#vision is back to being complete shit until the nerve gets pinched again

[bitchfitch]

I got home from the hospital last night. I can't sit upright or really walk anywhere bc of vertigo and the numbness in my legs is worse than it was before but that's suspected to pass within the next few days.

that's not the point of this post tho. when I got home I was out of my skull on the nerve pain medicine and panicking bc I am. unhealthy emotionally dependent on my cat Changuita Prime and couldn't check on her since she can't really get on the bed on her own. (Manx syndrome).

She doesn't like being on the bed either, she knows she can't get down again and doesn't like her movement through the apartment to be that constrained, but I needed her so my father put her in bed with me.

she stayed beside me the entire night. my arms are bruised from her making biscuits. She usually gets bored after a few minutes and stands at the edge of the bed meowing for help getting down.

Its the first time she's done that since she was little, I think she knows on some level that I'm sick and need her right now.

[teamatsumu]

: ̗̀➛ rough.

✎ pairing: murasakibara atsushi x reader

✎ word count: 1,141

✎ nsfw, smut, explicit content

Murasakibara doesn’t get intense in bed often. He doesnt have to. He is already so massive that minimal effort is enough to completely wear you out. The problems start when he does get intense in bed.

After the Seirin game, there was no stopping him. No talking him down or trying to calm him. He was frustrated and irritated and he needed to vent. And there you were, a convenient target.

The headboard creaked and groaned in protest as it banged against the wall. The bed was probably on its last legs. A little more and it would break down. The noise it was making was already alarming in itself. You however, could give less of a shit. Not when you could barely breathe.

“Atsushi!” You wailed, trying everything in your power to squirm away from the relentless pounding your pussy was taking at the hands of your 6’10” boyfriend. Your lungs rushed to catch up and your muscles seized, toes curling. The wet slapping of skin was a positively pornographic sound. In the dim light, your body shone with sweat, tears, drool and your own juices, unable to do anything except cry and take his huge cock. This was a hard enough feat on your good days, but today? Atsushi had thrown you onto the bed and ripped your clothes off, no prep and no warning, before bullying his cock into your tiny pussy and proceeding to fuck you into the mattress.

All he did was grunt in response, hair obscuring his face from you, one hand holding your wrists tight over your head, while the other groped roughly at your breast, pinching and pulling your nipple so hard it made you shriek. His massive frame pressed down on your torso, leaving you with little room to breathe and even less room to move. His fast and trembling breath hit your cheek, the only sign that he was affected by this like you were. Your legs shook, twitching in the air as you took everything you got, feet kicking.

“Atsushi, please, slow-” you weeped. “Slow down.”

A rough hand reached up, gathering your hair and tugging hard enough to make you arch up. His pace quickened even more and you screamed.

“Silly girl,” he groaned, mouthing and licking at your throat before biting down hard. Your eyes rolled up into your head. “No ‘going slow’ today. I’m going to crush you, little bug. And you’re going to take everything I give you. Okay~?”

His singsong drawling voice was throwing you off. No one would guess he was completely wrecking you by the way he spoke. The only sign was the slightly hoarse tone of his voice. And here you were, feeling like your very nerves were being ripped from your body. Your core was singing in bliss, nearly purring when he hit just the right spot, the head of his cock pressing so deliciously inside you with each thrust it made fresh tears leak from your lash line.

You didn’t even register when he pulled out and flipped you over, the room spinning in your vision as he manhandled your hands behind your back. One strong hand gripped your wrists tight while the other wound into your hair, pushing you down until your cheek was squished into the mattress. You gasped when he entered you again and resumed his brutal pace. The new angles had you moaning all over again, your spine tingling. Your pussy burned and your thighs ached. Tears trickled down the bridge of your nose and dripped onto the sheets, mixing with the drool that ran down the corner of your mouth. The filthy squelch of his cock entering you made your face heat up, fueling every dirty desire you had ever dreamed of.

Minutes later you felt the wonderful ball in your stomach tighten, threatening to burst. Eyes squirming shut at the overwhelming feeling. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth.

“Atsu….. I’m gonna,,, I’m-” You babbled nonsensically, but your boyfriend seemed to understand, picking up his pace until you were screaming and clenching around him, stars bursting under your eyelids as your ears rang.

The last thing you heard was the low groan behind you as Atsushi’s hips stuttered, and the last thing you felt was warmth fill your core as he painted your insides white.

…………………

When you came to, you registered how cozy you felt, warm and relaxed, your back pressed into something firm while the sloshing sounds of water filled your ears. All was still and steady around you, eerily so. Your eyes blinked open slowly, as if the tiniest action was enough to fatigue you, and you smiled when you saw the pristine white tiles of your bathroom wall in front of you. You turned your head so your nose pressed into the side of Atsushi’s neck, inhaling his scent deeply.

“You’re awake,” he mumbled through a full mouth, making you pull back to look up at him. His cheeks bulged out, jaw moving as he munched on whatever he was eating. You followed the movement of his hand as he reached out to the small table beside the bathtub, dipping into a transparent bowl that you could see was filled with mini Snickers bars. You sighed and relaxed into him again, feeling him slide his other arm around your waist to steady you. His legs stretched out on either side of you and toes comically peeked out of the water on the other side.

The water around you was letting out gentle wafts of fragrant steam, and you observed that Atsushi had really gone all out this time. Bath salts tickled your skin and a scented candle gently flickered on the shelf above the tub. You felt something poke at your lips and you opened your mouth, allowing your boyfriend to feed you whatever snacks he had laid out on the table. You let the sweet chocolate melt into your mouth.

“How long have we been here?” You asked, eyes already drooping. You felt his muscles shift behind you, indicating that he was shrugging.

“Maybe ten minutes.” He hummed, looping both arms around you and pulling his legs up so he could squeeze you between his hold. You smiled and let him. The press felt nice against your exhausted limbs. You shivered when Atsushi pressed a wet kiss into your bare shoulder, nibbling lightly at the skin.

“You did good today. Sorry I went too far.”

You giggled and turned your head to look into his eyes, wet hand reaching up to thumb affectionately at the little crinkles around them. “Are you kidding? I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

He pressed his face into the side of your head, hair tickling your nose as you laughed, unable to muster the energy to push him away.

[ncitygirls]

dance - jeno x f reader

fluff, smut, 2.1k

jeno knows it’s bad, but he can’t help but reminisce on how this all began. he likes to torture himself by reliving the first night over and over. it always starts with the drunken taunts from his teammates, sullied further by his dismissal. ‘no way,’ he’d said. ‘i can’t go there.’ he remembers seeing your roommates hyping you up, followed closely by your misguided steps. even after his earlier reluctance, he still regrets not beating you to the jump, his friends’ clearing their throats, trying to act natural as you approached their booth.

he hated the setting: a grotty sports bar a town over from his college campus. it sold stale, cheap beer, triple vodka sours and served well past three am. this may not sound like the typical start to a love story, but it was a start all the same.

‘do you wanna dance?’ you asked in a painfully small voice, your emboldened strut paling in complete contrast to your timid yet gleaming gaze. jeno still can’t say where he found the courage to agree, but agree he did, nodding behind his beer before following you up to the sticky floor. somewhere along the way you had taken his hand in yours, in fear of losing him in the sea of sweaty bodies. in the musty wave of noughties hits with tacky modern spins, jeno managed to lose himself anyway. he hadn’t a clue where to put his hands, his eyes searching yours as you giggled up at him, cooing at his bewilderment.

so you led. placing his hand on your exposed waist, your top riding up as it hugged the skin beneath your rib. he felt you shiver under his touch, his fingers clenching minutely at the feeling. ‘is this okay?’ he’d yelled, though it came through as more of a whisper under the music. you didn’t respond, instead reaching for his other hand, squeezing it over the denim on your hip. jeno was spinning. not from dancing, and not from the amount he’d drank. he knew it wasn’t down to that, nor the dizzying motion of the lights, the thickness of the air or the pounding of the music. jeno knew it was you. your chest pressed flush to his, your eyes boring into his. he didn’t know when you’d started swaying, his body leaning, moving in time with the music and the others on the floor. he could hear the songs changing, feel the bass beneath his feet. there wasn’t much he could do but enjoy it.

much like he still does. as he drags you close to him, the rosie organza pleated around your chest pressed right up to his satin lapel. his confidence then pales in comparison to now. it only took a few months to see the change, one you nurtured in all the ways a man like jeno needed. in soft assurances and gentle praise. in delicate touches and the softest embraces. in ardent exchanges and steamy quickies.

but the trouble began this past winter. well, technically well before. as a child, jeno had spent his summers visiting his cousin jaemin in his hometown from before he could remember. there the two had fortified a friendship, a real brotherhood that jeno never would have gotten to experience without being cast away to the country every solstice. it was there he met his cousin’s neighbour, mark lee. mark lee, a kind kid with wide eyes and a wider smile, was the kind of kid everyone looked up to. he embodied what jeno typically thought to be an older brother. and he was. to his step sister and cousins, to kids in his neighbourhood, to jeno’s cousin jaemin and eventually to jeno. it’s why, this christmas just gone, when mark had approached jeno, with giddy eyes and a giddier smile, to ask him to be one of his groomsmen - not just due to the refusal of a painfully introverted jaemin - but because of a genuine brotherhood formed between the two, jeno’s big hearted self could not refuse.. bringing us back to where the trouble began.

‘so, are you bringing her to the wedding?’ mark questioned suddenly, his arm pushing through the sleeve of his tux. ‘you definitely shou- it’s a bit tight at the elbow, can you see?’

jeno still curses jaemin for opting out of being a groomsman, leaving jeno to deal with the trivialities of wedding prep. not that he has a real problem with it all. it’s just a fitting, he thought as he walked in, his eyes landing on the black silk hanging off the changing room door. it wasn’t until he realised it was just he and mark - the rest of the groomsmen opting to come on a later date - that he was regretting the decision. because even though no one would admit it to his face, mark was a bit of a groomzilla. less for the usual reasons. he wasn’t rude, short or angered by little inconveniences. he was just a man of superstition, faith, and insurmountable dubiety. he wanted everything to be perfect. he wanted to do as much of his part as he could for his wedding day. jeno thinks his fiancée had been right to leave him the task of the guest list. mark easily knew more people, so was naturally inundated with acquaintances. it was a great idea, jeno thought.. until mark kept- on- pushing- ‘i’ll even relieve you of your duties early, let you go off with her-’

‘thanks man,’ the younger tried, watching the tailor pinch the jacket at his waist. ‘but really, i don’t think i will. i’ll just bring my mom or something.’

‘your mom’s already invited man, you know that.’ jeno huffed at that. of course she is. mark did take his duties seriously after all. ‘couldn’t have her going off on me like jaemin did-’

‘are you comparing my mom to jaemin?’

‘i’m just saying-’ mark paused to thank the attendant, slipping back out of his jacket as he walked up to jeno, squeezing his shoulder. ‘you’ve got nothing to be nervous about, jen. you’re like a brother to me. you should bring her, i’d love to meet her.’

jeno flinches just thinking about it, his spine straightening as mark turned to him fully. jeno manages a shrug, turning back to the mirror just for a second before deciding that, no. no, it wouldn’t be a good idea to introduce his girl to his best friend on his wedding day.

because the issue wasn’t that he wouldn’t invite you.

‘you met her at college, right?’

the issue was that he couldn’t.

‘maybe y/n knows her?’

the issue is that you’re already going.

‘you know what my sister’s like, she gets on with everyone.’

“jen?” you pant, his name falling off your tongue as he bounces you quickly in his lap. “come back to me.” he smiles at your sweet call, your teeth catching his lip between them before slipping your tongue into his mouth.

the ceremony starts in ten minutes, though guests are still pouring into the church. it’s what actually convinced him. that and you, your manicured hand stuffing your damp panties into the pocket of his fitted tux. it had been his undoing, your sweeping frame gliding into a small side door a few feet from the altar.

the clock is ticking but you pay it no mind, your hips halting their rise and fall as you dig your heels into the masoned floor, grinding your hips back and forth as you ride him. you feel his nails dig painfully into your skin, his tongue wrapping around yours, swallowing your gasps as his other hand gathers your dress, the layers of delicate organza billowing over his knee. when your nails find his nape, careful not to mess up his perfectly styled do, you suck on his ear lobe, forcing him to thrust up into you.

“fuck-”

“shh!” you hiss, rushing to stuff the same panties you gifted him in his mouth. you hear his muffled groans, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks the essence of you onto his waiting tongue. he feels you clench harder around him, his eyes smiling in place of his occupied lips. he lifts a brow when your rocking falters, your eyes darting around his perfect face, incapable of taking in anything but him and how he makes you feel. there’s a question in his gaze, forcing your head to bob. “yeah- i’m close-”

he abandons your dress then, letting the material pool around you two as he presses his palm to your neck, bringing your mouth to his. it’s a quick and steep descent to your release, your thighs burning as he slams you up and down on his cock, your skin clapping against his as he abandons all reason. he’s kept it quiet for so long, at times he thinks it might consume him from the inside out, all this love he has for you. all jeno really wants is to scream it out from the highest mountain top, tattoo it to his forehead, paint it on the fucking moon. hell, he would pay anyone to listen. he didn’t care who. he’d tell anyone who’d listen that he, lee jeno, was in love with y/n y/l/n.

“i love you too,” you almost cry, jaw unhinged as you feel the effects of his thrusts and affection rip through you. it spreads through you like wildfire, setting every nerve in you alight before it finally consumes him. your heat pumps and pushes him past his release, his heavy load pouring out into you. you milk him through it, your temple pressed to the crown of his head.

it’s the church bells that rip you apart, your whole body cringing as realisation hits. you cringe further as his flushed face fills your vision, his hands gathering your dress again before further staining your panties as he wipes between your legs. “don’t look at me like that.”

“like what?”

“like it’s worse for you than it is for me.” you’re about to ask how when he moves away from you, closing his eyes as he wraps it up before shoving it back in his pocket. “i said don’t.”

“fine, i won’t-” your surrender is cut short when knuckles strike the door three times, jaemin’s sign to wrap it up. “shit, let’s go-” you try to leave but can’t. because suddenly he’s stopping you, his warm hand loosely wrapped around your wrist.

“let’s tell him.”

“tell who what-”

“mark.” jeno used to hate acknowledging the striking similarities between you and your step brother. much like the unwon battle of the chicken and the egg: which came first? which of you taught the other that when your eyes enlarge, rounding into porcelain saucers, two full moons nearly eclipsing him, that he’d give you anything?

“today?” when he nods, you want to laugh. but he looks so confident. so sure. “jen, are you sure?”

“i am,” his affirmation makes your heart swell, even before he continues. “i’m sure about you.”

he knows where your uncertainties lie. but you affirm it too. “i’m sure about you too.” you both seem to forget the wedding in that moment, both neglecting the importance of your bridal party roles in favour of basking in one another for even a second longer. “only if you save me a dance?”

“always.” so much so, you don’t register the sound of the confessional door swinging open when jeno leans in to kiss to your forehead, his bitten lips pressing to the skin as his eyes land on a pair not too dissimilar to the ones he’d just poured his heart out to.

mark seems to short circuit for a second that seems to last hours. “mom’s looking for you,” he announces, spluttering around the words as you immediately grab jeno by the hand and drag him out the confessional. you both duck your heads as you shuffle past jaemin, who looks beyond pissed you didn’t heed his earlier warning.

when you both disappear, your brother turns on jaemin, eyes wide as full moons. “you knew!” it only angers him more when jaemin nods, unflinching when mark starts slapping his arm. “he told you and you didn’t tell me?”

“nuh-uh,” the younger defends, straightening out the groom’s lapel as he reverently shuts the confessional door. “i figured it out.” mark looks bewildered at the notion it had been so obvious. jaemin has to remind himself it’s mark’s day and not to be too harsh. “come on, hyung. he wouldn’t tell us her name, wouldn’t let us meet her.” mark still looks stunned. “don’t get me started on how many times they pulled this shit last christmas-”

and to think. it all started with a dance.

[hoe-imaginess]

vanilla | dabi

very alpha!Dabi x fem omega!Reader 

summary: Dabi isn’t aware that the LoV has an omega up for grabs, not until he accidentally comes across you in heat. 

word count: 11.7k

contains: dub-con elements, scent kink, humiliation, masturbation, hella dirty talk, mentions of blood/burns, Dabi being an all around bastard

a/n: commissioned by K to share part of my ABO fic. Most ABO stuff makes me squeamish so I leave out token tropes (aka knots) another private fic that I didn’t plan on posting so it’s kinda uhhhhh bad lmao. will possibly post more but idk. 

DON'T let the title mislead you ok Dabi is anything but vanilla 

⤰

When he found the safehouse, Dabi knocked at the front entrance.

For a long time there was no response, and he tried again, louder this time and with more exasperation.

“Coming,” he heard a shout finally, muffled across the steel door.

Dabi rubbed his eyes to put some pressure behind them, in hopes it might too take that same pressure away from the sting in his nose.

Some heady omega in the area was in heat, and a bad one; the entire neighborhood reeked of the tantalizing aroma.

He groaned, jaw tensing, and with practiced composure put the fire down in his body. He had enough of it running under his skin every second of the day in the form of his quirk. He didn’t need any more. But it was getting worse the longer he waited there with that smell tiding in the air.

He didn’t even know why he was there, doing such a chore, in the first place.

Maybe it was because this League of Villains business was a promising crusade; he’d heard good things and seen for himself some profit in the affiliation, even despite how profusely he disliked the weird hand-guy, or how awkward the black fog in a suit could be. 

The other recruit, Toga—who he found as equally disagreeable as the rest—had all but blindsided him that evening as he exited the dainty bar which they called headquarters.

Could you do me a favor, Dabi? she’d entreated with an attempt at innocent, girl-like charm: a tactic which, as it usually did, failed. The manic grin on her face had only made him want to be away from her company all the sooner.

No, he’d said, and pushed past her.

But she’d skipped after him, steadfast. 

Tomura had asked her to run an errand in one of the more dangerous parts of the city, she’d said, but she wasn’t sure what to do. She was just a girl, after all. Couldn’t Dabi do her this one favor and take the responsibility off her hands? She was too nervous to take a trip like that, and so late in the night.

Bullshit, he’d said, but instead of protesting in defense of herself, she’d just giggled like a lunatic, dropping her pretense.

Still, when she said it was a delivery which needed to be made to you, the only member of the League he had yet to officially meet, curiosity pinched him.

Indifferent as he was to comradery, he was undeniably interested in unearthing the particulars of this would-be villainous syndicate, which included being at least somewhat familiar with his allies. He knew you had been an original member even before he and the psycho schoolgirl came into the fold; but little else. 

You needed a delivery to be made to one of the League’s safehouses? Well, maybe he could oblige, if only to snoop around. Shigaraki was particularly fastidious with the information he willfully shared, and Dabi would take any opportunity to filch information under the boss’s nose in stride.

After all, if Toga, a new—and undoubtedly incompetent—recruit was being tasked with these deliveries, why not Dabi? Why not Kurogiri, who could make the shipment with ease given his quirk?

What was going on behind the scenes that Dabi wasn’t seeing?

Underwhelming as his first task as a newcomer would be, he saw it as an opportunity. He could be a good and useful asset to the League just for the night, he’d decided, when he told Toga he would do it. He was headed to that side of town anyways, he’d said. 

So there he found himself, his foot tapping impatiently on the ground as he waited outside the safehouse. 

That goddamn scent that wafted around the building... Why did he feel as though he’d smelled it before? And why did it smell so… sickeningly sweet?

He tried to distract himself by musing over what might have solicited these late-night deliveries, for example: what was in this suitcase he was meant to give you. 

Toga had handed it to him with such a twisted, giddy smile on her face that he was half-convinced it was a bomb ready to blow and scatter him into pieces for her sick delight. Once he’d found it locked, he’d given up on guessing the contents after he shook the thing and the rattling inside gave no indication of the secrets it held.

More distraction, he entreated himself. 

He thought of the itch of his staples, the uncomfortable tingle on his ridged skin when the air brought heavy wind against it. He thought of anything that might take away from the smell of raw heat in the area, but it was an instinctual pull that left him fidgeting where he stood.

He was about ready to leave the suitcase at the door and hit the road, when there was a commotion from across the threshold.

The aroma that burst from the opening door completely smothered him, made every bone in his body feel like smoldering steel; made lightning shoot down his veins and a low breath catch in his lungs.

You blanked when you saw him there, your pupils blowing wide with shock, then, if he read it correctly, fear.

He sniffed hard, his body scrambling for a source to the scent that begged his alpha inclinations to go wild. The inhalation sent pinpricks of warmth down to his feet. The smell was overwhelming now, almost dizzying.

And it was coming from you.

“Fuck,” he spat, and covered his nose with his arm, backing away from the door.

You slammed it shut, your heart racing.

“What are you doing here?!” you demanded.

“Came to give you this goddamn shit,” he snapped, throwing the suitcase at the door. It landed with a violent thud. His limbs jerked with frayed nerves, like the sun was heating his skin and crawling down to his center. “Are you an idiot!? You know I’m an—”

“I do that’s why I wanted Toga to bring it—”

“She had me do it,” he shouted, and backed himself against the opposite alley wall, a hand clenching and unclenching against his clothed thigh.

Goddamn your smell. Goddamn it. Like vanilla. Horribly sweet. So fucking potent.

He threw his head back against the wall, ignoring the throbbing pain it kneaded into his skull, and breathed hard.

He wanted to bust down the door. His legs twitched at the impulse; fingers tensed and flames licked their tips.

It would be easy. Kick it down. Burn it down. Burn the whole goddamn place down if need be. He wanted to force his way in, wanted to claw at your clothes and shove himself inside you—

Instead he took another deep breath, and loosed it on a shaky sigh.

He’d handled omega heats before, why was he like this now? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was too much.

“You need to leave,” you muttered from the other side of the door, so resolute and aggrieved that he would have never guessed you were keeled over on the floor, legs shut tight and body shivering. His alpha smell was nauseating you; it was strong and dominating and demanding that you open yourself to him. “Now.”

“Yeah I’m goin',” he snapped angrily, storming off down the alley once his legs restored their loyalty to his head, and not what was between his legs. “Fuck."

⤰

Dabi stroked himself hard and fast and rough, nose pressed into his sleeve, breathing in the sweet tang of vanilla that lingered between the fibers.

He growled out his next breath, and it sputtered off into a wobbly sigh as he closed his eyes and thought of you: those perfect tits he was sure you were hiding under your clothes; your ass, which would look like nice, he knew, with his handprints burned onto the skin; and then your cunt—fuck, he could almost imagine how tight it was, how hotly it would grip him and milk every last fucking drop of his cum—the mere vision of it pink and twitching and spread out for him was like an explosive punch to his gut.

He came in thick, hot spurts, some rolling over his knuckles as he quickly twisted his fist over the cockhead, others staining the brick wall in front of him with ropey, white streaks.

“Fuck,” he panted, chest heaving, limbs trembling. A hand shot to the wall and braced himself there for balance, kept him upright while his quivering knees threatened to fail him.

When was the last time he’d even had to rub one out like this? In a dirty fucking alley? And least of all because of some stupid omega?

Goddamn you, he thought.

⤰

“Dabi!” Toga squealed when he returned to the bar later in the morning. She sniffed the air, breathed in his smokey scent, and flashed a hungry smile, tongue dipping out to wet her eager lips. “You smell so strong. Are you worked up?” Then her eyes were bright and thrilled. “Oh? Oh?! Did you see _____-chan? Did you?"

“Yeah, you crazy idiot.” Dabi slammed the bar door shut behind him. "You just forget to mention that she was in heat?”

Shigaraki, who’d been previously uninterested in the debacle, now looked up from his game. “What?”

Toga giggled. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Did you smell her? Oh, it’s so nice, isn’t it?” The girl’s eyes twitched and rolled back loftily in ravenous remembrance. “_____-chan smells so sweet. So sweet—”

“You caught her in heat?” Shigaraki asked, accusative but curious. “Are you stupid?"

Scowling, Dabi jerked a thumb at Toga. “Dipshit over here had me take some stuff over to that safehouse you got. I didn’t fuckin’ know."

“You dumb girl,” Shigaraki snapped, turning on her now. “Are you brain dead? Or do you really not get why omegas hide from alphas during heats? Why do you think we have a beta like you go do deliveries now?”

“I know what happens!” she contended. “I thought she could use some company. She smells so delicious. Was it fun, Dabi? Was it fun and romantic and—”

“Try infuriating,” Dabi spat, then set his anger on Shigaraki. “You’re no better. Either of you.” He nodded his head at Kurogiri behind the bar. “Would’ve been nice to know you had an unmated omega in your group.”

“Thought you’d noticed by now,” Shigaraki replied, now somewhat subdued, and tending to his game again. “What, your nose doesn’t work?”

“It works fuckin’ fine. Just didn’t realize that scent you got around here all the time was hers.”

In recollection, he put his sleeve over his nose. The sweet smell had vanished, but the memory of it still haunted his senses, made every nerve in his body flutter with excitement. It was driving him fucking insane.

“How the hell do you two work with an omega?” Dabi asked. “That gets heats like that, no less.”

“We’re not animals,” the leader replied. “Some of us can handle it.”

“My ass. Guessin’ that’s the reason she’s never around, huh? You don’t seem very disciplined. Bet you catch one whiff of that slick and go completely ape shit.”

Shigaraki scowled, affronted.

“It was our mistake not warning you,” Kurogiri conciliated the blame, clearly nervous, and possibly displeased by the crass talk. “We were under the impression that you knew. We’ve taken steps to lessen the risk in our years together. We are somewhat… desensitized.”

“Good for you,” Dabi muttered. “I ain’t. A heads up would’ve been nice.”

“Now you know,” Shigaraki said, scratching peevishly at his neck. “Stop complaining. You’ll get used to it.”

Dabi tsked. “Yeah, you better hope I do.” Then he stalked off.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Shigaraki asked Toga once the other alpha had departed.

Toga keened happily, still enamored with Dabi’s untamed scent. Alphas were so delicious when worked up.

“I forgot,” she insisted dreamily. “Honest, I did.”

“That was a very risky mistake,” Kurogiri was saying, black vapors flitting nervously about his frame. “As a beta, you may not be aware of the risks that both alphas and omegas face when it comes to positions of power–”

Toga pouted and whined, like a child whose gleeful imagination had been thwarted. “I don’t get it. I was just doing them both a favor. Alphas are supposed to take of omegas in heat, aren’t they? What’s the big deal?” She had a stupid smile on her face again, rapt with thoughts of desire. “It must be so nice as an alpha, getting to take any little omega you want… they’re so needy.”

“The big deal, you damn idiot,” Shigaraki started, “is that a guy like that is too selfish to put our objectives before his prick. There’s a reason we don’t mess with that heat and rutting crap here. Complicates things. Makes everyone go crazy. Like you.”

She tittered like a lunatic, proud of her indignity. “She smells so good, Tomura. It’s not fair. Not fair at all.”

⤰

After your heat, once you’d returned to the bar, you ignored Dabi to the best of your ability.

At first, he seemed content enough to reciprocate the caution. You both treaded carefully: any eye-contact made would be swiftly curtailed with averted gazes; you cleared a room whenever he entered, and vice versa, he acted as though you were invisible to him.

It would be fine, you’d told yourself. You’d dealt with the ugly dynamics your omega lifestyle wrought countless times. You could do it again. Dabi was a new recruit, after all. Promising—albeit coarse—according to Tomura. His contribution to the team far outweighed the plights of your personal struggles. You would be fine. It would be fine.

But those lofty self-reassurances were short-lived.

You were sitting in one of the bar’s empty rooms when he sought you out. You smelled him before he rounded the corner, and fear gripped you when the alpha bouquet invaded your senses. But then something else came to seek your submission: an instinctual calling on the wisps of his scent, bringing an anxious and conflicting nostalgia back to you.

God his smell had followed you for days: a smokey aroma, but something so fresh underneath it, like cold mint. You’d never been so enthralled by a scent before, never been so tempted to give in to carnal desire and offer yourself to a being nature had designated as your superior: an alpha.

He stood in the doorway of the room, just looking at you; you stared back, frozen, and made yourself small in hopes that you might avoid whatever confrontation was to come.

“Your heats always that stupidly strong?” he asked.

You blanched and took a deep breath to quell your unease. You wished to anything that the world would swallow you and take you away from what was undoubtedly going to be one of the worst, most uncomfortable confrontations of your life.

“Yes,” you said. “That’s why I have to go away.”

“Why? I mean, most omegas do it. Usually to work it out themselves, right? Bet that little delivery I made was a bunch of toys, wasn’t it?” 

“No,” you said, feeling embarrassed by the mere speculation. “It was a suppressant. They don’t usually work on me... I’m trying to find the right one.”

The broad smirk that shifted his scarring tissue made you shift uncomfortably. “Suppressants are useless if your heat is too strong. That shit was bad. The smell is ridiculous. You clearly ain't doing somethin' right if it’s always that potent.”

You shivered at the mention of your scent. It was always what they mentioned—the alphas. They always raved about your scent: like sweet candy, some said. Most often, vanilla. The sniff of it on your very nose was nauseating after so long: an inescapable quality that put you in the crosshairs of nearly every alpha you’d met, made you frightfully easy prey to their predator.

“I’ve...” Shit, should you be sharing this with him? Normally you did, with most alphas you were acquainted with. Especially those you trusted. But you didn’t trust him. You barely knew him. “I’ve never... been rutted properly. So, they’re stronger. The heats.”

“Never been rutted through a heat?” he asked, scoffing. “Sounds miserable. You’re all backed up, aren’t ya? That’s why you struggle with your scent so much.”

You were quiet. You met his interrogation more confidently than you previously thought possible, given how successfully he’d intimidated you up until now. But your fear was draining away slowly, giving way to some sense of adeptness.

Memories of his scent had haunted your every bodily cell since the moment you’d first experienced it. Although facing it again now was overwhelming, you’d steeled yourself since then.

It would be okay, you reminded yourself. Conferring with allied alphas was only a necessary tack if you were going to keep the peace.

“I have, obviously,” you answered. “I’ve been rutted through a heat. But, it’s not the same if it’s not with… well—”

“An alpha?” he finished, and couldn’t help the surprise on his face. “You’ve never been with an alpha in your heat?”

You shook your head. And then there it was, the returning frailty so thick that it seized the room. Why were you so humiliated to speak your truths? They were truths, after all, under his harsh gaze or not.

“…I’ve never been with an alpha at all.”

He actually laughed. “Nah. You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Never even fooled around a bit?”

“No."

A wry, callous grin stretched his staples. He tilted his head and hummed curiously. “You afraid? Of alphas?”

“No.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Omegas are normally dyin’ to get laid when they’re in heat. Especially when they’re surrounded by alphas they actually know, like you are. Would be one thing if you were locking yourself up to hide from strangers, but you’re not. Gross as that hand-guy is, he seems like he’d rut for ya."

“I just don’t... want it.”

“Nah. You’re scared. I can tell. Should’ve seen that look on your face the other day, damn near terrified—like I was gonna jump on you any second.”

You bristled with agitation, frustration invited back in full bloom now that your confidence was weakened. “Sorry if I don’t trust you,” you returned with grim sarcasm. “You’re not very… decent, to put it plainly.”

“Decent? Nah, I’m not. Alphas aren’t supposed to be. But that’s why you’re all nervous, right?”

“I don’t…” You shook your head, thoughts tripping over one another. “My quirk makes it difficult,” you admitted, and bit your tongue shortly afterwards.

”Your quirk?”

You swore it was his pheromones making you talk, clouding your judgment and wringing admissions from you. “Alphas and omegas dealing with ruts or heats… it compromises their quirks sometimes, I’m sure you know. Makes them uncontrollable and disorderly. I don’t want that to happen to me. Heats are bad enough on their own. Actually getting rutted through one…” You shrugged, vulnerable to be sharing your fears. “I don’t know. I heard it can go wrong. It would be too much.”

“Oh.” He snickered. “Afraid you’re gonna get too horny and flip out or something?”

Heat primed your cheeks in a blush. “No. I mean… In a way. But, thats not what I really meant–”

“So you just run away whenever you’re in heat? ‘Cause you don’t know how to handle it? That’s sad. Bet you wouldn’t be such a stuck up mess if you just let someone rut you through it, at least once. That’s what you’re supposed to do. Forget suppressants. Not just that,” he snickered, and smirked slyly, “it’s awfully unfair of you to be such a prude when you’ve got a bunch of alphas around."

You shivered, not simply noticing, but feeling his eyes pore over you. “They’re not interested.”

“Fuck that. Don’t know if you heard sweetheart, but omegas are made for us to fuck and breed.”

“No,” you said, almost indignantly, “they aren’t.” To be reduced to something so primitive and incidental put anger in your veins. It was a sore, but inevitable topic you were unfortunate to suffer so often.

“Yeah. They are. Don’t know how that hand-creep hasn’t tried to jump your bones yet. I sure as shit would have, by now.”

Then, considering his words, he made a curious frown. “Unless you hide to keep away from that guy.” As he thought of these depraved illustrations in his head, put pieces of his own mused puzzle together, the grim smile returned. “Yeah. I can see that. Putting your own sanity on the line because you don’t wanna provoke your boss. You’d rather scurry off than deal with that guy. You really are scared of alphas, huh?”

“No,” you spat. “Tomura is…“ God, you hated this, hated how his smell was driving you crazy, making you pliant. “Tomura doesn’t need distractions. He’s not very… well-equipped to handle these sort of things.”

You wouldn’t mention how the visual of Tomura’s hands gripping you with alpha-driven need, unwittingly cursing your skin with his quirk, obliging your flesh to break away under his clutches and slowly split you open was a terror that kept you awake some nights.

“I stay out of the way for both our sakes,” you said, shaking the fearsome thoughts away. “Everything works out fine the way it is. We want it this way. We know how to focus on our mission and that only."

He shrugged, unconvinced. “Sure, gotta keep the peace or whatever. Don’t wanna turn the League into a rut fest. Puttin’ the greater good over their alpha needs, over what’s in their pants."

You frowned at him, displeased with the vulgarity.

He snickered to see it. “Commendable of them and all that. But…” He pushed from the wall he’d leaned against and came towards you. You inched away, heart beating fast at the sudden approach. “I’m a little more radical about this stuff, I guess you could say. I think you’d be much more useful if you weren’t so pent up.”

When he crouched down in front of you, you backed into the wall that you sat against, but there was no room for escape. He wasn’t smiling now, only perusing you with expressionless intensity. You tried to suppress a shiver when his eyes rolled down your body.

“Never really been all that concerned with this sort of stuff, not gonna lie. I’ll rut when I need to. Otherwise shit starts getting complicated and I can’t think straight.” He shrugged. “But in case you haven’t noticed, my body ain’t all that suited for frantic ruts. I try to take it easy, if possible. But… I always thought it was a little dumb that we’re engineered to think with what’s between our legs, most of the time.”

And so saying, his warm had slid between your partially opened thighs, which shivered at his touch and clamped together quickly to deny him.

But he wasn’t deterred, and shoved against the resistance, slipping the invading hand under your skirt.

“Stop,” you demanded, breath automating into nervous pants. In sudden fear of being happened upon by the others, you glanced around feverishly, your feet shuffling on the ground to push you back against the wall.

“Stop, now.” Your hands were on his arm, trying to push him away. “Dabi,” you insisted, trying to sound firm. But it did little to deter him.

“See? Bet if you weren’t so damn skittish you’d be putting up a real fight.” His hand finally broke through the tight resistance of your thighs, and his fingers pressed against your underwear. They were damp to the touch.

He laughed, and stroked over the wetness with his knuckle, making you keen and try to pull away.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, looking down between your trembling thighs. “Unless you were playing with yourself before I got here, I’m guessin’ this is because of me?”

He took the wet fabric between his two fingers and rubbed together. “And what’d I do for you to get like this? You’re not even in heat. And I’ve barely got a scent on me right now. We’re just talking, ______. You really that hot for me, sweetheart?”

At the sound of your name coming from his mouth, gravelly and low, you shuddered, and put an arm over your mouth to keep in a stammering moan. But his other hand came and pulled the limb away.

“Please,” you stuttered out. “Stop.”

“Am I the first alpha who’s touched you like this?” he asked, ignoring your plea.

Your thighs tightened around him again, and one of your hands went to his collar, squeezing into it in meager resistance.

That too he ignored, and looked at you with plain impatience. “Am I?”

You whimpered and nodded, unable to form words when your lips were stuck harshly bitten between your teeth.

“Yeah, thought so.”

Then his thumb worked its cruel intentions and circled your clit. The pathetic gasp he received in turn made him chuckle.

“Nah. See, this isn’t supposed to happen.” His thumb pressed harder and your head knocked back against the wall. “I’ve seen some pretty slutty omegas, but this is plain stupid.”

“I’m—” You practically hiccuped through a whine, and squeezed your eyes shut, your quirk threatening to reveal itself, answering the calls of your panic and ready to defend against his assault. “I’m not a slut—”

He brushed up on your clit hard and you whimpered, defense all but surmounted.

“Okay, fine. You’re not a slut. You’re just damn sensitive because you’ve never given your body what it needs.” He grinned his wicked grin. “An alpha.”

You shook your head. “No—”

“Yes.”

You shook it vigorously now, and your hands came back to life, pushing at him. “No.”

“Yes, _____,” he breathed, laughing. “I thought you were supposed to be smart. Alpha, omega, whatever—those instincts make your brain all mushy if you don’t get it under control. You’ve got some dissonance going on in your head. You’re really letting yourself go because of it. You wanna be a good ally for your boss, but you can’t, because you’re too scared to—"

“I’m not,” you insisted, eyes wrenching themselves open to look at him. He was amused, depravedly amused, but still remarkably composed for how ruthlessly he was teasing you. “I just don’t want it–”

He snorted loudly, and you were sure the sound would echo and bring someone upon the spectacle. “You don’t want it? Seriously? Now you’re just in denial.”

His fingers coiled around your panties and shoved against your bare skin; your pussy was wet and warm to the touch.

“I can smell your slick, holy fuck,” he muttered. For the first time, though everything up until this point had been cruelly entertaining but not entirely stimulating, he felt his cock twitch, and his mouth water. He hummed. “Bet you taste like vanilla, too, don’t you?”

“St-stop,” you stuttered, face going hot with embarrassment, hiding it against your shoulder as if it would help mitigate the fluster.

He let go of the arm he’d been restraining, put a hand on your knee, and tried to push your legs open. He was surprised when met with resistance; you kept your thighs locked together like a vice, making it substantially more difficult to move his fingers on your clit the way he wanted.

He scoffed.

“Open your legs,” he demanded of you, and felt your body twitch at the command.

He looked at you, and was pleased to find you staring back, wide-eyed and jolted. His blue eyes narrowed autocratically.

He spoke his command slower, but with more authority, “Open them. Now."

And when you did, he let out a breathy laugh of satisfaction, and admired the mess of wetness between your thighs. “See? See how easy that was?”

One hand gripped the soft flesh of your thigh—shit, the skin was practically begging for his teeth to sink in, to make you bleed, to mark you—while the occupied continued its ministrations, fingers jerking quickly over your pink clit.

"What if I were some enemy tryin’ to get some information out of you, huh? You’d probably spill everything about the League to another alpha the second he gave your pussy any attention. Shit,” he laughed, head cocking curiously as he played with the folds of your cunt, “I’m just teasin' you a little and you’re already dripping, for one. For two, following my every command like a good little whore.”

You shook your head, wordless in your denial. You thought you could taste blood in your mouth from your own lips, teeth digging in harshly to give your body any sensation to distract from the burgeoning pleasure. Your nerves were trampling over one another, all of them somehow alight with fire, but numb all the same.

“Imagine what I, or any other alpha, really, could get you to do with a cock inside you. Ever think of that? And if you were in heat?” He scoffed. “Forget it. You’re pretty much a liability at this point. Don’t know why the hell your boss keeps you around. It’s pathetic.”

Bracing both hands on his shoulders, you loosed a strangled moan of frustration, fingers biting into his clothes, pressing against the lean muscle beneath. He didn’t seem to care, too focused on the pink, twitching flesh now turning red from his fingers' abuse. He swiped his pointer and middle across your clit in a dizzying pace, until the tendons in his wrists burned and his knuckles ached. But your scent… fuck, the fucking scent—

He prided himself on his practiced fortitude against alpha instincts; his body, wracked by the toll of his quirk, was vulnerable as it was. Willpower was necessary to stave off the feral hunger that often made him forget his own fragility and indulge the fierceness of ruts and heats. It always ended with loose staples and bloody rivulets along his skin. Self-aware as he was of his own limitations, he so rarely let himself indulge his body’s desires.

But fuck if you weren’t testing him.

You were close, you knew, your body spasming and breath catching in every interval. You panicked, tried to fight it, but it was as though his fingers had caged your volition somewhere in the back of your mind, and instead propagated all senses to pleasure.

“Fucking tease,” he muttered under his breath, but you barely heard him above the frenzied din in your brain.

Just as you felt something in you stirring irrevocably, both his hands left you, and he stood to his feet.

You nearly toppled over, and spilt over yourself awkwardly to try and catch yourself on the ground. The wet slide between your thighs was horribly palpable, and horribly embarrassing.

You panted as you gathered yourself, looking up at him in flustered awe as you shut your thighs and protectively shoved your skirt back into place.

He was admiring his fingers, the wetness coating them, and when he noticed your gaze, waved them at you teasingly. “See this?”

So wet, you thought, humiliated, as a sticky strand started to spill from his finger. You shivered, your face sweltering and flushed.

“This is your body’s way of telling you that it’s beggin’ to be filled.”

You shuddered, and held yourself miserably, trying to fight the unsatisfied heat in your veins with calming breaths. “You’re horrible,” you whispered, your mouth dry.

“Nah. I’m being a nice guy. The only smart one around here, too, looks like.”

He licked at his fingers, a shudder going down his spine when he tasted the sweetness. It was unreal. “This is ridiculous. You wouldn’t have to worry so much about scurrying away from alphas if your smell wasn’t so strong. If you’re heat wasn’t so strong. And none of it would be, if you just did what you were made to do. You’re repressed. Backed up as hell—”

“I wasn’t made to do anything,” you argued, frustration returning.

“You can keep sayin’ it, but it doesn’t make it any less true. You’re more trouble than you’re worth, honestly. Got everyone jumpin’ through hoops for you because you’re so damn sensitive. I ain’t gonna do that.”

You sat there in a heap, fidgeting uncomfortably and fighting for any sense of self-determination you could. He’d said his scent was scant, but you swore it was filling the room, pulping your thoughts and dizzying your nauseous head.

“Clearly you’ve been stuck with some pretty underwhelming alphas until now,” he said. “So I’m gonna do you a favor. Next time you’re in heat, find me, and I’ll do something about it.”

He wiped his dirtied fingers on his shirt, then left you there.

⤰

A month later, Dabi got a call.

“What?” he answered curtly, thinking it was Shigaraki from a burner number. The boss did that sometimes, despite there being little need for throwaways. It was theatrical and annoying.

“It’s me.”

After a pause of non-recognition, you sighed, “It’s ______.”

“Oh?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

In the alley, Dabi admired the burning body he’d just finished off, the corpse kindling his blue flames nicely as it crumbled to ash.

He laughed lowly. “Yeah. Been about a month, hasn’t it. You had some time to think sweetheart?”

From the other end, you bit your lip. “I have rules.”

Something seeped into his blood and swelled within him. Like a breeze carried from somewhere far off, he got a whiff of your sweet scent, just a ghost of it, and licked his lips.

“Seems a little over the top,” he said. “But I’m listening.”

There was a sound in the alley behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder.

You took a deep breath on the other end, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. “I’ll be at a different place tonight. Another safehouse, down by the docks. The first rule is that when you get here, you have to—”

Dabi heard the cocking of a gun. The disdainful comrade of the dead, scorched man had the weapon raised and trained on him, spouting some threatening nonsense of vengeance. The flame-wielder huffed in annoyance.

“Can’t really talk right now,” he spoke into the receiver, his hands brightening with his quirk. “I’ll find the place. Better not get cold feet.”

“Dabi—”

But he hung up before you could say more.

⤰

You waited for the better half of the evening shot to pieces with doubt.

You’d gone over the situation a dozen times, and twice that number decided the uncontrollable confusions weren’t worth second-guessing; dictating right and wrong left you light-headed when your body was already a frenzied playground of sensation thanks to your heat.

You started to text him the address when midnight rolled around, just in case he’d gotten lost—then thought better of it. The uncertain doublet came again: You couldn’t do this. It was dangerous. You hadn’t witnessed Dabi’s brutality firsthand, but the hearsay was worrisome enough. He would break you. It would end horribly. Your quirk, or even his, would lash out—

Then the other half of the fretful analysis: Yes. You could do this. It was natural. It was true what he’d said, about you neglecting your body’s desires, and in turn leaving room only for self-sabotage. The thought of him drove you wild with uncertainty, but so did the notion of not doing this; your body was raging at the absence of touch. One which he was apparently willing to give.

Finally you called him, nerves scattered and patience thinned, deciding that whatever he had to say to you on the other line would determine whether or not you should carry on with your plans.

Almost as soon as you heard the ringing from the other line, so too did a chirpy noise come from right outside the safehouse door: a phone.

You blanched. Before you could make toward the door, the metal lever twisted with a creak and opened. He was there on the other side with his phone in hand, and lifted it teasingly when his eyes found you in the dim room.

“If you’re callin’ to give me directions, waste of time,” he said as he slunk inside. “I can smell you across the damn street.”

You shivered, smelling him, too: he radiated a warm scent, then that icy undertone which always perplexed you in the most enticing way.

He shut the door behind him, locked it, and inspected you. He huffed in amusement to see how nervous you were.

“You said you had some rules,” he started, coming towards you. Your heart started skipping. “Sounds like a lot of bullshit, so I wasn’t gonna remind you. But I guess if it’ll stop you from chickening out halfway…”

His hands were on you in an instant, at your sides, squeezing and kneading the flesh underneath your shirt. You froze. The dumbfounded look on your face had him smirking.

“Not that you’ll be able to once I get started,” he went on. “Or even want to. Probably gonna forget you even had rules once I stick it in you.”

The hands went down, gripped your ass, and brought your bodies together. You braced yourself against his forearms, stuttering when he wasted no time and pressed his face into your jaw, licking, kissing, teasing you with teeth.

Your eyes fluttered closed, mouth hanging open as he traveled down. At his touch, your mind slowed to blind submission. The excitement was stroking a fire in you that you hadn’t even known was there.

Fuck, it was too much. Already, too much.

“You gonna tell me?” he asked between kisses. "Or you already forgot?”

As he moved to your neck, he inhaled sharply through his nose. The sweet scent stirred a frenzy in his gut.

“Fuck.” The hands at your ass squeezed so hard that you gasped. “Goddamn girl,” he laughed breathily, grinding against you. “That shit’s good.”

“I—" You choked on your next words when he spread your thighs apart from behind, fingers curling under your skirt to feel for your panties. “The rules, I—”

“You better spit it out,” he warned, coming up to look at you, eyes fixed with hunger. “I’m not a patient guy. I’m really gonna pounce on you in a second if you don’t get on with it.”

It struck apprehension into you. You breathed out the words hurriedly, “Don’t mate me. Don’t give me a mating mark—”

He laughed in your face, making you blush, then went back to kissing at your neck.

“Didn’t plan on it. Don’t want a mate. Probably never will.” He kissed hard at your neck, breathed in your scent again with a hum. “Besides, even if I did, you’re not bad looking and I know your cunt’s gonna be nice and tight, but you’re not worth mating. You’re high-strung. It’s annoying.”

You bristled with anger, but his warmth was making every other sense dull to you. When his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder, you were wrangled back to focus.

“No marks,” you warned, just as his teeth sank in, and nudged away gently to dissuade him. “Don’t leave any. Kurogiri and Tomura can’t see–”

“I don’t give a fuck who sees,” he replied harshly, coming up to look at you. “Who cares? They were dumb enough to leave you unmated and practically dyin’ for a fuck, so forget them. I’m doing you a favor here, remember that. You can have some rules, but I’m doing whatever the hell I need to do.”

His fingers rubbed hard at your panties; they were wet to the touch. "Not like you’re gonna run out now. You’re fucking soaked.” With a pleased growl he went to your neck again, biting hard.

You squealed, but before he could start sucking at the skin, you reeled back and moved away from him. You pushed at his forehead with a hand, and he smacked it away.

“Then no,” you sighed out shakily once you’d gotten his attention. "We’re done here.”

You spoke it with such confidence that it actually earned you his consideration. He stared at you, half-impressed, but mostly, furious.

“If you can’t listen to me,” you muttered, braving his piercing eyes willingly, "then… then fuck off.”

He was scowling at you now, and without warning his fingers pinched your clit.

You gasped sharply and raggedly at the feeling, melting into his touch with weak legs. He had to hold you upright to prevent you from collapsing, and against your ear, he huffed angrily.

“That’s what I fucking thought, stupid slut.”

He shoved you down onto the mattress at your feet.

You were too dizzy to make a protest when he climbed over you, and had no voice on which to loose it when he ripped—literally ripped—your shirt apart and attacked your chest with harsh bites and licks. Your nipples got the worst of it: he went for them with a growl in his throat, claiming the peaks between his teeth, biting down so hard you squealed and kicked.

“You really don’t have a goddamn clue how this works, do you?” he was breathing out harshly. “What an alpha does to an omega?” He looked up at you. Your eyes were watery and trembling as they gawked down at him. “What I can do to you?”

His lips went down, and he shoved your skirt off of your legs, the panties going too. You had enough sense in you to shut your thighs, which made him scoff, and yank them apart painfully.

“Don’t you fuckin’ try it. This is mine right now. You and your little cunt, mine. Like it’s supposed to be.”

He knew even as the words came from his mouth like venom, that your scent, coupled with his long-unreleased pheromones, were pushing him to a point of brutality. He’d never been so prone to complete and utter dominance like this. And now looking between your thighs at the pink, swollen, shaven pussy twitching for him, he knew there was no chance you’d be getting any mercy.

“Look at this shit,” he muttered, dropping to his knees, and as a protest died on your lips, his own pressed against your wetness, breathing in your scent as he did, growling loud and wildly in his throat.

His hands went to your thighs and pulled, bringing you closer against him, ignoring the fingers in his hair that feebly tugged. A shaky whimper came on every one of your breaths, your mouth sputtering through frail pleas he didn’t understand and didn’t bother trying to.

He indulged one harsh, long, angry suck on your clit, and released with a wet smack. You cried, actually cried when he went back in and dug his tongue harshly against you.

“Dabi, Dabi—no, please–”

Your scent made him light-headed, made him forget for a split second where he was, made him forget the constant and residual pain from his quirk, the itch of his staples—made him forget it all.

You came on his tongue without warning, a loud screech dying in your throat as you arched off the mattress. He was too shocked to lick up the sweet cum that received him. His eyes shot open and he looked up at you; you were an absolute wreck: flushed, sweating, shaking, and seized with pleasure.

He tried to count in his head. How long had it been? A minute? Barely? Fucking ridiculous.

He sucked and sucked until you were writhing. He wanted to punish you, wanted you to see how fucking weak you were, how badly you needed this.

“Dabi—” you sobbed out, tears itching your eyes and rushing down your face.

He pulled off finally with a loud breath, smacking his lips, then went back down to lick up your pussy one more time to clean you with his tongue. You jerked and twisted miserably. Then he was climbing over you again, forcing you to face him.

“You see?” he panted. "See what I just did to you? See how fuckin’ quick you were to cum for me? That’s what you’ve been missing. You’re not in the position to be making demands or rules here, _____. This is what you deserve. This is what you need. You need an alpha, you need me, you need this—”

He took your hand and forced it to rub between his legs. You stuttered a pitiful breath when you felt the bulge there, so hot, so inhumanly hot, waiting for you. Under your touch it twitched, greedy to be inside you.

You shook your head, unable to keep your eyes open; the blinding pleasure made a transit to numbing warmth, and your lids were heavy with drowsiness.

Your lip trembled. “Please, I need a minute, please—"

“No. Fuck no.”

He shred his clothes quickly, pulling his jacket off, kicking his shoes off, clawing at his belt and throwing that off too—but getting no further than shoving his pants down his hips so his eager cock could spring free. He didn’t have the time for anything else. He didn’t have the fucking time.

“I was gonna go easy on you,” he muttered. "Just a little."

Manhandling you to a spread position beneath him, he was almost ready to shove into you—then he had an exhilarating idea, and flipped you over, slapping your ass hard and making you yell in surprise. He wanted to take you like this: dominating, and utterly primal.

He forced your hips up, ass out, pussy spreading for him. He took his cock, flicked the head mercilessly against your clit until you were keening. A firm hand on your hip prevented you from squirming away.

“Please,” you sobbed again, gasping, body trembling. The heat. The heat. It was too much. Your skin crawled with euphoric pinpricks of fire. You needed it. You needed it. “Please, Dabi—”

“Please what?” he snapped, fire in his veins, vanilla flooding his head. “There’s no way in hell you want me to stop, so you’re beggin’ me for more. Use your words then. Say it.”

Your shook your head, mouth dry and gaping. “I can’t—”

He smacked your ass again and you jolted, unable to stop from curling into yourself as you orgasmed; the scent of your slick invaded his nose and he realized what you’d done. A dangerous, slow, ragged laugh bubbled from his throat.

“My god you’re so fucking pathetic. Look at that.” He kneaded his hand hard into your ass, pulling and stretching the skin, keeping your pussy fleshed out for him. “Look at this shit. It’s dripping. I want you to admit how pathetic you are.” He started to jerk himself hard, precum spilling over his fingers in messy streams. “Say it.”

You shook your head, pressing it hard into the mattress below. His hand went for your hair, yanked it backwards, and a tight yell tore out of your throat.

“Say it right now or you’re not getting my dick. I can shove it in your throat and get off just fine.” Oh, but how fucking badly he needed to put it in your cunt... “Say it. Say you’re pathetic, and that you need an alpha cock. Say it.”

“Dabi, please—“ Your hips arched upwards, begging, completely overrun with need. He shoved you back down, dismantling your sanity with every second went without feeling him inside of you.

“Say it now or I swear I’m gonna leave you here, _____.” He yanked your hair tighter, his hand flying on his cock. Everything felt so good. Too good. Too fucking hazy. “I’m gonna use your mouth or these tits to get off, and then I’m gonna leave you here, dripping and fucking pathetic and alone. Alone in your heat like you always are, you stupid whore.”

The thought made you whimper despairingly; in turn, he groaned loudly as he worked precum out in rapid strokes.

“Say it. Now. Now.”

“I’m—” Needy sobs wracked your voice, your hands clutching the mattress. “I’m a—I’m pathetic, I’m pathetic—”

“Fuck,“ he moaned loud and heavy, pinching the base of his cock to hold off release, then going back to stroking again, unable to go without stimulus. “What else? What else, _____?”

“I’m pathetic and I need your cock!” you cried out, too desperate for pride, too desperate for anything else. “I need an alpha cock, I need it—Dabi, damn it, please!—”

You practically screamed when he rammed into you, a loud shout tensing out of him as he let go of your hair. He put both hands at your hips to hold you in place for his violent thrusts.

Your mouth was open in vacant stupor, eyes rolling, feeling another orgasm ripping through you almost instantaneously.

“Fuck… fuck,” he breathed, feeling you tighten around him. He growled angrily, biting his lip until the burnt, abused skin swelled and bled. “You fucking—fuck—” Your slickness was in such abundance that little specks flew with every one of his thrusts, making his cock spear in and out perfectly and without restraint.

Every muscle in his body screamed for release, so soon, so quickly. His balls ached for it, spittle flew from his mouth with every ragged breath he took. Your back arched so nicely underneath him. You were such a perfect fucking omega he almost couldn’t stand it.

He shut his eyes tight, hand going to fist back into your hair and wrench upwards. You didn’t protest, didn’t even let a sound leave your throat despite the pain it brought. It didn’t take away the pleasure; nothing could. Nothing could ever take this away: the stretch of his thick, long cock pounding into you, hitting that spot over and over again until you came once more, then twice, then a third time.

He was breathing so raggedly that it branched pain into his lungs; his fingers dug into your hip so harshly that blood spilled from beneath his nails.

“Fuck,” he breathed, almost like a whisper: an angry, desperate, hissing whisper. “Oh fuck, _____...”

Everything was too much: your scent, the sight of you, your perfect cunt gripping mercilessly with every thrust. He bent forward, stuttering his hips into you as his orgasm approached. Copper met his tongue when he bit harshly into your back.

Beyond his control, his quirk joined the fray of pleasure, blue flame flickering faintly along his palms and burning you. But fuck, it didn’t matter. Nothing fucking mattered but the wet slap of his hips ramming into you, the painful bite of his belt at your thighs, his teeth at your back, sharp alpha canines digging in.

He felt the flames on his face rising; along his jaw, in his hair, they had a mind of their own. He had the sense, just a sliver of it, to back away from you, saving you from the heat that licked parts of his face, even as his hand burned char into your hip.

His rhythm was going; he was close. It hurt. It fucking hurt. He needed to let go. Needed to give you his cum. Needed to pump it in your eager little omega cunt.

“I’m—shit,” he choked, swallowing the dryness in his mouth and moaning long and low. “Tell me you want it baby girl,” he panted. “Tell me you want this cum. Tell me.”

“I—” You coughed miserably, body beyond your muscles’ command. “I want it—”

“What? What do you want? Say it, sweetheart—fuck, tell me—Tell me you want my cum and I’ll fucking give it to you—” You squeezed him tight, too tight, and he keeled over with a grunt. "You feel so damn good. Fuck I’m gonna give it to you, gonna fill this tight pussy come on, come on—”

“I want your cum!” you sobbed, tightening around him as if on instinct. He grabbed your hips with both hands, fucked into you primally now, an angry, seething growl in his throat that was far from human.

Flames on his back, on his arms, on his neck. The skin where his hands held you steamed and you moaned in agony, or maybe pleasure—maybe both. He didn’t care. Neither did you.

“Fuck!” he shouted, just as his hips stuttered and fire shot up his spine. He threw his head back, tendons on his neck flaring, arms and legs shaking as he came inside. “Fucking shit—”

He panted for air, felt staples pulling in places all over him, felt his balls burning with pleasure and heard your mangled cry as he gave you what your body needed, what it had always fucking needed.

He didn’t stop fucking into you until his body couldn’t physically answer his brutal needs, and he bent over you, one last and hard thrust sending you flat against the mattress. His searing body pressed flush against you, met your nipped skin in an overwhelming contrast and forced a whimper from your throat.

He bit into you wherever his mouth could reach, claimed you in any way he could without irrevocably mating you. Lost in the heat of it all, in the pleasure that burned up his spine and gave him vertigo, he wanted nothing else but you: to dominate you, make you submissive, fucking own you until you knew nothing else but him and his cock and his seed inside you—but he couldn’t mate you. Wouldn’t. 

Maybe not yet. 

His flames subsided on their own, leaving smoke to rise all over his skin like overworked geysers; a steaming form on top of yours. The pungency of the expelled fumes would have surely made you nauseous any other time, but your senses were dulled to discomforts and pains alike.

You panted heavily beneath him, quivering under his weight. He lay his head against your back and breathed.

Wanting to push himself upright he twisted a hand into the cushion next to your head, tried to work himself up, but unable to with the debility of his worn muscles.

“Goddamnit,” he rasped, then, forcing strength into his limp limbs, pushed up on a shaky arm and righted himself dizzily. He had to close his eyes, reclaim his vision from the black spots encompassing it, then blinked the room back into focus.

You made some mousy noise beneath him. Then you squirmed, tightening around his oversensitive dick and making him grunt.

He pulled out of you carefully, slowly, every inch dissuaded by the tight squeeze. Wetness made a sleek mess of it all, slick streaks down to your knees, on his own skin, too; splattered against his pelvis, dripping down his balls and his thighs. He shivered. All of this, all of this mess for him, because of him.

His seed spilled out of you when his cockhead, red and twitching, released itself. His cum was hotter than what should have been normal. As it dripped down your thighs it felt like a simmering stream.

The mess, primal though flattering as it was, was quickly something of an agitation on his sweltering skin, and he wanted to be rid of it. A hand was at your back to steady himself, and he pushed at it again to keep his balance—that was when he noticed the full scope of the burns he’d left on you. The burns, the bruises, the blood. He looked upon the violence he’d done with careful regard. He knew from a simple glance, and from experience, that the burns were so severe they would be beyond full healing. You’d have them there forever. A token of his brutality, of his lust.

He closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh to steady himself.

“Oi.”

He pushed at you, and your limp body moved jointlessly beneath him. He wet his mouth to alleviate some of the dryness. His heart raced and his ears felt stuffed by warmth.

“Oi, you bring a towel? Something to wipe this mess up?” Your cum on his skin was cooling uncomfortably. “Oi.” He shook you a little harder when you kept to your silence, and a quiet whine answered him. “C'mon.”

There was a tiny movement: you attempting to push on your arms. But they were utterly useless to the command of your body. A raspy sound came from your throat, like you were trying to speak in murmurs.

He leaned in. “What?”

You tried again, to little betterment. He tsked, impatience entering his body again despite how languid it felt, and smacked your ass lightly, making you jump.

“I can’t hear you dummy, speak up."

You gave up, and trying to muster what little forte you could, moved a shaking arm and pointed to a bag off to your left. He understood, reached for it, his muscles screaming at him in ache, and set about cleaning himself with a towel he found inside.

He thought better of doing the same for you, but was again drawn to the wounds he’d left on you. Provoking an alpha-like possessiveness in him as they did, they were unsightly, and some far away part of him regretted what he’d done. He cleaned you carefully, in the smallest form of apology he was capable of evoking.

When the rough towel wiped over your sensitive clit you shivered miserably, and he huffed a quiet, weak laugh, his eyes heavy-lidded.

“Such an omega.”

He tugged his pants back up his waist and sunk down into the mattress at your side. He’d mastered his breathing again, though there was a heat in his lungs, like smoke, which made every breath feel powerful and choking. The smoke had all but gone from his skin, however, extinguished by his mind returning to lucidness.

But there was still a trace of the ferocious alpha in him there, his legs and depleted cock twitching when he breathed in and smelled you, a warmer vanilla now: something changed and unpure now that you’d been rutted. And he knew, possessively, with a shot of primal instinct going down his spine and making fire roll through him, that he’d forever changed you.

He looked over at you, realizing for the first time that you’d been completely inanimate. You barely looked to be breathing; your inhales came in irregular, heavy intervals, as if each breath taken succeeded a reminder that you were still alive, awake.

He knew it was the adrenaline still rushing in his veins that made him do it, but he reached out, pushed at your head gently so you would look his way, and brushed the matted hair from your face.

Your skin was flushed with sweat. A damp spot in the mattress must have been tears, and probably drool. It wasn’t particularly nice to look at, but it stirred something in him nevertheless. You were a mess. An utter mess. His mess.

Your eyes were closed, pupils fluttering beneath the lids like shaking leaves.

“Open your eyes,” he said, for no particular reason.

But they shut tight at the command, and your breathing picked up, as if you were debating between obeying or not.

“Open them,” he told you again, no firmer, but apparently, it was persuasive all the same. Tears slipped from your ducts when you complied, eyes shining and trembling.

He ignored the part of him that ached to fall into his greedy impulses again. It was alluring. Not just because you were an omega, but because you were you. And he’d fucked you. He’d taken you. He was your first alpha.

Without further instruction to do otherwise, your eyes started to close again, and the hand that still held your hair from your forehead tugged lightly, entreating your eyes to stay trained on him.

“Nuh uh, wake up. Talk to me a little, before you pass out.”

You hummed groggily in response, your mouth open but too dry to form around words. You sealed your lips together, swallowed the dryness.

“Can’t move,” you managed raspily, staring at him, looking exhaustedly vulnerable and knowing you did, too.

He watched you, debating leniency, and decided he’d give you some, just for good measure.

You made an uncomfortable whine when he took your forearm and dragged you to him. He didn’t try to hold you, or keep you against him. Instead when you curled into your little ball against his side, moaning as you did at having to stretch your body’s abused muscles, he let you. What he didn’t deny of intimacy, however, was the arm he draped over you leisurely, just to feel you as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

His thumb brushed over the flesh of your hip, and felt the corrugated, slowly cooling flesh there. The sensation made him grimace. It was so like the gnarly, repulsive texture of his own skin. Not as severe by a long shot, but nevertheless, unpleasant to the touch.

“Hurt?” he asked.

You blinked lazily, his voice sounding like a waning echo to your numb ears. “What...?”

“Your hips. Look at them.”

You forced your eyes open; they rolled themselves into nausea when you shifted to look. When you noticed the pinkish, creased wound on your burned skin, you froze, then started to shiver in your dismay.

“You… I…” Your unsteady hand moved, a finger traced over the rough, still raw skin. Clearly, the pain was lost on you, lust granted. But the sight had your stomach twisting, its emptiness sloshing uncomfortably at the sight of your own damaged flesh; you could even smell it, strong and sickening like cooking meat.

“You’re lucky that’s all I did,” he muttered, selfishly flippant. “And you’re lucky I did it there.”

You took a shaky breath, and shut your eyes, resigned to your body’s lethargy. “Asshole.”

He humphed. “It’ll heal,” he lied. “I’ve had worse, clearly. Done worse, too. It won't get infected.”

You were quiet afterwards, volitionally so, barely keeping your hostility in check. He was more than aware of your chagrin, and didn’t particularly care. If you started feeling it later, he’d go get you meds for the pain. But he’d known omegas to be particularly resilient in their heats. There was very little that registered above the natural pleasure of being filled by an alpha.

“I’m…”

He glanced down at you, saw your mouth opening and closing in determined hesitation.

“I’m not a whore,” you managed croakily, and irritably.

He started laughing. “You gonna hold that against me?”

“I’m not a whore.” You scowled, resentful of his carefree ribbing. “And I’m not”—you sputtered, breathing hard through a phlegm-choked cough–“a slut.”

His laugh subsided into a low chuckle in his chest. You didn’t see the wry grin on his face, but heard it.

He shrugged. “I say shit when I’m high on fucking. Don’t take it so personally.” But he couldn’t stop now that the warmth of craftiness was twisting in him. “Besides…” The arm draped over you shifted, found your ass, and gave a generous squeeze. You whimpered in objection. “You basically are my whore, now.”

You shivered with frustration. Despite the wild—incredibly wild and earth-shattering sex, you were conceiving a poorer and poorer image of him the more he gloated. With renewed strength, you rose on your arm and pushed his hand off.

“I’m not,” you insisted testily.

“I get you don’t know how this shit works,” he started, “so guess I’ll explain it to you.”

There it was again: the possessive, ravenous wildfire in his veins that coaxed his arm to reclaim its spot at your back, bring you closer to him. Adjusting his position, he let your head rest on his stomach; your legs curled comfortably around his own for comfort. He watched your head rise and fall as he breathed steadily.

“May not have mated you,” he went on, anticipating your griping, "but I’m your alpha now.”

You tensed at the declaration, he noticed, but no more than that.

“And it’s gonna stay that way unless you let some other one take you in a heat, which I don’t see you doing. Unless you’re just so dick hungry after this that you let any guy fuck you.”

One of your feet dug opposedly into his calf and he snickered. “Didn’t think so. To the last part, I mean. Trust me…” His hand smoothed over your ass again, and he smirked when you moaned quietly. “You’re gonna be hungry for it.”

“I can’t handle anymore,” you muttered, breath puffing against his stomach. Even those giddy times you’d imagined your first alpha taking you, envisioned a night of passion that would end in ardent nurturing, wrapped under your dominant’s embrace, protected and warm and wanted—you now balked the indulgent, cherished ideal of it. This was not what you had expected. Dabi was not what you had expected.

“I can’t,” you started, lacking the confident breath to loose your doubts on. “I don’t even… feel it. It’s gone.”

“You’re still in heat. It’ll pop back up when your body’s ready. I’m hoping you don’t need a biology lesson for this shit, but point of a heat is to get you knocked up. You get that, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he mocked. “And obviously since I’m not tryin’ to make you a mother, I didn’t do that. Your body’s gonna keep beggin’ for it until I give it to you, and I won’t. So you’ll get your heat back once your junk down there realizes it’s empty and wants to try again, except it’s gonna be a lot crazier this time, since you’ve finally had a taste. Told you that you were only hurting yourself by holding out this long."

You started to follow the logic. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before. But to hear it fleshed out like this, by the alpha who had taken you, felt somewhat like a hazardous warning.

“I just… “ You shook your head against him. “We did it. You said that would be enough. That it wouldn’t be so bad, now…”

“You thought one fuck would fix it?” he asked, condescension taking an amusing slope in his tone.

You didn’t answer, and he grinned.

“You got a lot to learn, sweetheart. Gotta get you through the whole heat, first. Life would be easy for you omegas if one fuck could take care of your problems.” He hummed. “No, you’re gonna be dyin’ to get bred up until your heat is over. I’m not gonna do that, but I’ll fill you up for a little relief.” Something about his own words made him twitch in anticipation, and he put a hand on your head, pinched a handful of hair gently in his fist. “Until you need it again. And again.”

You heart was beating fast. He felt it against his side. “We don’t have to,” you said.

“Don’t have to what?”

“I’m too tired,” you insisted, feeling your body lag into the mattress. “I won’t want it anymore. I’m done. This will be fine. I don’t need you.”

He laughed with such smugness that your cheeks went hot.

“Now you’re just being dumb… But fine. Think what you want. Give it a couple hours. You’ll be clawing at my dick before morning.” He picked idly at the drying blood under his nails, frowning to see it, but too amused by the prospect of your ignorance to regret his violence anymore. “And now, I’m gonna make you work for it.”

“I won’t. You got what you wanted. And I… you made your point.” You shoved off of his body, pushed away from him scornfully on limbs that were seconds from giving out, and sat yourself upright.

Your spine curled and straightened enticingly as you arched up; he watched with covetous appreciation, then saw the red blood drying on your back. He tried not to put out a spiteful laugh.

Let you find the mess he’d made later, he decided. For now, a more urgent matter was making sure his dick didn’t get too hard before you were ready to go again. But you stretched so nicely like that, reminding him of how your body had dipped so obediently for him when he’d bent you over and fucked you cross-eyed.

“You need to leave,” you said.

Snorting, he went back to picking at his nails. “I’m stayin’ right here. Even if I didn’t still have a job to do, this is a nice bed. Better than the couches at the bar, ya know. Nice little nest you’ve made for yourself."

“Then… I’m leaving.” You tried to stand, and failed, legs sliding out from under you and giving your body back to the mattress beneath.

“No you ain’t,” he snickered. “Even if you could find another place to wait off the heat before it came back again, you’re gonna run back to me.”

“I don’t need you,” you insisted decisively, angrier now.

“Yeah, you do. I’m your alpha now, remember?” He saw your shoulders rise with a heavy, angry breath. “You said it yourself. You’re pathetic, and you need an alpha cock. And right now, that’s mine."

“…Fuck you.”

He cackled patronizingly, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, giving no stock to your anger at all.

Indignation compelled you to your feet, wobbling, a hand going between your thighs to feel the hot throbbing there.

That was when you noticed the blood, and some of the bruises. You shook your head, infuriated with yourself, and with him.

“You’re… sick,” you muttered. “I can’t believe I let you… You’re a sick bastard."

He chuckled dismissively, and stopped himself from reaching out to grab you like he wanted to—that attitude of yours made you really fuckable.

Instead he rested back into the mattress, forcing his hands to keep busy on his nails, on his staples.

“Keep it up sweetheart,” he muttered. "When you’re wet for me again in a few hours, I’m gonna remember you said that."

“Fuck you,” you said again, too disillusioned to think carefully on the foreboding, and found your clothes.

Then, forgetting he’d torn them, you threw the tattered garb at him.

He ignored you, unfazed, flicking the ineffectual shirt off his chest as you rummaged through your bag for a new one.

You pulled it over your head, then, with a final glare of indignant reproval, walked off.

He didn’t bother asking where you were going. He knew you would be back.

[prideymcprideface]

ARt (F!MCxDiavolo)

Warnings: NSFW!,  very light dubcon, language

Word count: 1777

.....................

As you add the finishing highlights on to your work, heat creeps up your face. You’ve never drawn anything quite SO lewd. 

To be fair, this was the only way you could think of to release some pent up “steam”, so to speak. Diavolo was getting to be too much these days. His eyes that sparkle whenever he laughs, his almost calculatedly messy auburn hair, and, oh my god, when he’s in his demon form, his rippling abs, and toned arms. 

As you admire your newly finished art piece you imagine the same scene happening in real life. Diavolo’s strong hand snaked up the front of your blouse, your skirt hiked up as he positions himself at your ent-.

“Ohhhh, (M/C). This is truly quite a scene.” You freeze in place at the Prince’s voice. Shit. You quickly flip the paper over, concealing the filth. “Is this what you think about when I’m not around... And I promise you, I’m much bigger than that.” You stare at him in shock for a second.

“I dun- I jus- everyt- when- I- yep. Y’know?” You bury your head into your hands. Embarrassment brings tears to your eyes. What the hell was that?! You think to yourself.

You can feel Diavolo move closer, you peer out, for just a moment, from in between your fingers. Huge mistake! You are met face to.... crotch with him. He snatches up your drawing- you futilely attempt to steal it back, but he’s simply too tall. 

“Is this supposed to be me?” Diavolo flashes an amused grin at you. “and even better, (M/C), is the beautiful doll I’m with, you?”

“Noooo?” You mentally pinch yourself, “No. I don’t even see a resemblance to us, honestly.”

“How tragic.” Diavolo feigns sadness, unconvincingly, considering the huge smile that is quick to spread across his lips. “I thought this might mean you may want me, too...” 

Your breath catches in your throat, and you cough, and cough, and cough. Your mind spins trying to think of a response.

“Too?” You voice wavers, exposing your excitement and nerves.

Diavolo beams from ear to ear. You’ve unknowingly quenched any doubts he had about your feelings for him. He crouches down, his amber eyes peering up at you. 

“Too.” He only says that simple word, but his eyes are telling you so much more. They are burning with a desire, a desire you assume your eyes are reciprocating. Diavolo steals a glance at your lips, and licks his own. You reach your breaking point, you summon all the courage you can muster, and gently bring Diavolo’s face to yours. Your lips crash together, the months of tension, the longing for this to happen, melting away by the second. 

Your lips moves in unison with his. His hand snakes up and down your sides, fueling the fire in between your legs. You ache for him.

Diavolo’s tongue dips in between your lips, silently asking permission to explore. You grant him access without hesitation. He pulls you in closer as he delves farther into your mouth, until eventually you’re pulled from your chair and find yourself in Dia’s lap. A very pronounced bulge pushes against your heated crotch. Your mouth forms into a small ‘o’ at this discovery.

“Mmm, you like what you do to me, (M/C)?” He licks from the corner of your mouth, down your jaw, and settling on a sensitive spot on your neck. Your body shudders as he scratches his teeth against your skin.

“Mmhmm,” You breathe out, your mind swimming. You push your hips down grinding across his clothed erection, grinning to yourself when the sucking at your neck pauses in reaction. “We should have been doing this more often.”

“Based off your drawing, you’ve been thinking about me in this way for quite awhile, haven’t you?” When you don’t respond to Diavolo’s question, he digs his nails into your thigh, bringing your attention effectively to him.

“Y-yes, I think about you, like this, a lot...” Your voice trails off in embarrassment. 

“Mm, good,” Diavolo pushes you onto the floor, and he towers over you, “because I think about you, your small, fragile body, underneath me, every night.” You can feel his hot breath on your ear as he whispers to you.

Only a small squeak escapes you.

“Do you want to reenact that beautiful drawing of yours? I can make that happen.”

“Yes, please,” Goosebumps raise on your skin at the thought. Diavolo gives you a toothy grin, he’s already clawing at your panties. They never make it off, the garment is left in shreds still  around your hips, but effectively giving entrance to your dripping core.

“Ah-” You involuntarily cry out, Diavolo swirls his finger, collecting your juices onto his long finger. He brings it up to his waiting lips, eyes closing, he savors your taste.

“Mmm, (M/C), you’re truly intoxicating.”

You say nothing, only opening your legs wider, inviting him in. His eyes darken at your gesture. He lightly runs another finger down your slit, purposefully avoiding all the places that are aching for his touch. Your hole clenches, seeking relief. 

Diavolo smirks down at you, he notices that way your body was already begging for him. Slowly, he enters a single digit into your waiting cunt. Your body visibly stiffens as you wait for what feels like hours, for him to move.

A small whine escapes your clamped mouth. You start fidgeting against him, unable to hold still any longer. His strong hands pins you to the floor, quickly stopping your attempts for more. 

Diavolo’s finger is joined by two more, the size of his hands making is a tight squeeze for all three. The feeling of him filling you up overtakes you. He slowly starts pumping in and out of you, at first just scissoring his fingers spreading you out. When he’s satisfied with his work, he plunges those fingers as deep as he can go. You throw your head back, a long moan spills from you, your hand grabbing both sides of Diavolo’s head, pulling his gaze to your face. A small smile creeps onto his handsome features. 

He continues to fuck you with his fingers, watching your expressions change, watching the way your eyes roll back every time he curls his fingers into you. 

“Harder, please, Dia!” You cry out, wanting more.

Dia stills for a moment, he grabs onto your shoulder for leverage, and slams his fingers back into you. 

“Ah!” Stars flood your vision, the familiar tightness in your core clueing you in to your approaching orgasm. 

Diavolo can feel the tightening of your walls, he runs small circles over your clit with his thumb, encouraging your climax along. With the skillful work of his masterful hands, you come undone around his fingers. 

The demon prince coaxes you through your high, until your left panting underneath him, legs still shaking every once in awhile. Diavolo begins to pump into you more, your body jolts at the overstimulation. You involuntarily try to push away from him. 

“N-no I can’t, i-it’s too much- Ah!” Diavolo’s tongue replaces his thumb, he swirls circles around your throbbing nub, in eager now.

The demon mumbles into your heat, “You can do another for me, baby.” You continue to struggle against him, the pleasure wracking your entire body. 

Without warning, another orgasm, even stronger than the last, courses through you. Your eyes screw shut, back arching off the ground, and hands coming to Diavolo’s hair in between your legs. 

When you come to, Diavolo is inches from your face, hand now in between his own legs, pleasuring himself over his pants.

“Are you ready for me now?” Dia licks his lips, eyeing down your entire, used body. 

“Yes,” You breathe out, still completely spent from your last orgasm. “Please.”

Diavolo unbuttons his pants, letting his dick spring out. He snakes his hand up the front of your blouse, teasing a pert nipple in between his fingers. He aligns himself with your entrance, dick throbbing for you. 

“(M/c)?” You meet his eyes, “This familiar to you?” He’s referencing your drawing.

Without warning he shoves his dick into you, your walls inviting him in. The pain shoots through you, his large cock feels like it’s splitting you in two.

“OH!” You voice your pain, but intstead of stilling Dia pulls out and thrusts back into you with equal force. Your mind blurs as the pain mixes with the pleasure of being so completely full. He continues burying his dick into you, from tip to base over and over with force unmatched by any human you’d been with before. He revels in the way your pussy sucks him in.

Soon, all your senses are replaced with pure pleasure, Dia having adjusted himself to drive right into your g-spot with every thrust. Your body squirms under him, his pace is unrelenting and pushing you towards yet another orgasm. 

You become unbelievably tense, body on the edge of climax. “Cum for me again, (M/C), come all over my dick.” Diavolo speeds up, that and his words push you over the edge, Your head goes blank and you’re consumed again by your climax. You throb over Dia’s dick, coaxing him closer to his own release. He rides you through yours, watching every movement of your body intensely.

As you start to come back to reality, you’re met with Diavolo’s lips. He’s kissing you, hungrily. 

“You want me to fill you up?” You nod against his neck. “Ah, you take me so fucking good.” 

You lick up his neck, tasting the layer of sweat. You give a small nibble, trying to encourage the demon on top of you to give you what you want. He stirs, at the feeling of your teeth on him. 

“Please, Dia, I want your cum!” 

Your words push him to his release, you can feel his dick pulse inside of you. A small grunt and a series of catching breaths are followed by warmth spreading through you as he cums, filling you up. Your legs wrap around his waist holding him deep inside of you, even after he was finished.

Diavolo chuckles, lifting you up and gently placing you onto your bed, following right next to you, his cock still buried inside. You’re eyes droop, you can barely hold them open. 

“Rest,” Diavolo kisses each eye, urging them to close, he wraps two large hands around you, positioning his head right next to yours,  “Round 2 will be even better.” He whispers, causing your eyes to flutter open.

This man will be the death of you, you can already tell.

.........

As always if you would like me to add an additional warning, message me!

[ateezmakemeweep]

365 days.

mafia!yunho

word count: 9k

angst, fluff, smut (warning: stockholm syndrome)

request

he knew it was irrational, the intense longing and fascination with the girl he saw the night his father was murdered. he had been watching you for an hour, your hair blowing in the wind as you stared out at the ocean with a small smile on your face. 

you had been perfectly content and tranquil, your feet sinking into the sand with your white sandals in hand. every time he tried to pull his attention back to the men talking with his dad, you’d make another move. a simple quirk of your lips or head tilt to the side that fully captured his attention. 

he wanted you and he didn’t even know you. he had no idea why the pull toward you was so overwhelming, the possessiveness he knew he always had at an all time high. 

his dad made his way over to him and followed his line of sight, shaking his head as he asked if he knew you. but before yunho could answer, the sound of a gun shot and his father’s pained groan caused him to snap his head toward the man. 

the man who raised him, told him one day he’d have to carry on this business and subject himself to the worst types of criminals, fell into him as blood seeped through his shirt. yunho could only watch the man bleed out in front of him, set him onto the floor and press his large hands into his dad’s bullet wound as chaos erupted around him. 

their men attacked the others, more gun shots and grunts from punching and kicking surrounding him until he saw the exact moment life left his dad’s eyes. tears welling up his vision and his fist punching the ground because he just watched his father die. it’s something he always prepared him for but never thought would actually happen, the hole in yunho’s chest already filling him with so much sadness and devastation. 

and then when he looked up toward the beach, you were gone too.

it took him five years to find you.

and when he did, the empty hole in his chest finally felt like it was healing. he knew it was fucking crazy and that it made no sense. that he could look at a person just once, not even have a conversation with them, and claim them as his. 

but he wanted you and he always got what he wanted. 

that’s why he waltz right into the private party you were in, took a glass of champagne from the waitress’s tray with a wink, and watched. he watched your boyfriend flirt with girls behind your back and the way you were so carefree and alluring. 

your smile effected everyone in the room, men and women, and it’s like you didn’t even know it. you saw your boyfriend’s advances toward anyone but you and slapped him across the face, a smirk appearing on yunho because he’s hoping you’ll be that feisty with him. 

he followed behind when he saw you making your way to the bathroom, an elaborate path of twists and turns that makes a part of him angry and protective over you; it’s dark and dangerous here, what if some psycho decided to stalk you?

his body was itching to follow you into the doorway, take your face in his hand and tell you how long he’s waited for you. how much he’s missed you and is so happy he finally gets the chance to know you. but this plan has to be executed perfectly, not being able to afford fucking this up and losing you again. 

but he also couldn’t not say anything to you, watching you waltz out of the bathroom and look around at the large, gaudy building. he loved the way your eyebrows pinched together, looking around and your lip turning up almost in disgust at how ritzy this place was.

“are you lost, baby girl?” 

you looked up at the sound of his voice and he wanted to smirk at the blank stare you threw his way, narrowing your eyes even further before brushing past him and back down the hallway. there wasn’t a flicker of recognition in your eyes, and he didn’t expect there to be, but he hopes there will be tomorrow, watching your retreating figure until you’re back at the main lobby of the party.

you wake up in an unfamiliar room, in different clothes than the ones you were wearing last night. you quickly try to piece together what happened before you start to panic, desperate to remember if maybe you got a little too drunk and went home with a random man.

but you know that wasn’t the case, remembering walking down the alley to go home and hearing footsteps behind you. turning around and seeing nothing but the gravel and shadows of the buildings. an arm catching you around the waist made you scream out, the last thing you remember feeling before your mind fogs and you can’t think of anything else but falling into a deep slumber. 

you’re thinking, however, that if you were kidnapped, this is unusual treatment. because you’re in a silk nightgown with a comfortable king sized bed under you. the room is beautifully decorated and the outside window looks like something of a villa, a pool and grassland of flowers shining in the sun. 

you lift your head and feel your eyebrows knit because instead of something normal like a tv or dresser at the front of the room, there’s a shower. it’s a beautiful, fancy shower, with neon lights inside and two luxurious rain shower heads. 

you stretch out your bones getting more and more stiff and alert as you look around the unfamiliar room, your feet hitting the floor as you reluctantly make your way to the door; what are the odds it’s even unlocked? you think about knocking or calling out for help but what good would that really do in what appears to be a mansion like this?

you push open the door and hum in surprise when it’s open, making your way down the hall. it’s dark and full of expensive statues and artwork, taking in the columns and high ceilings as your feet start to pick up. there doesn’t appear to be anyone around so you have to hurry up and find the nearest exit, your head snapping side to side as you quietly run down the stairs and through the large house. 

you’re in a room that resembles a living area, couches and chairs sprawled out around the area. pictures cover the walls and you’re frantically searching for another exit or archway when something in particular catches your eye. you shake your head because you almost don’t believe what’s in front of you, your stomach sinking and heart racing because-

“what the fuck,” you mutter out, walking over to the fireplace where a portrait of you is hung up. your face and eyes are staring back at you and the eerie feeling that rips through you makes your heart start to pound even more, to the point where you think you’re about to pass out. 

who the fuck would have a picture of you hanging and why the fuck? were they some sort of creepy stalker? was he watching you now through some cameras, waiting for you to cry out for him and-

“are you lost baby girl?”

you stiffen at the deep voice that sounds like it’s right behind you, the words sounding so familiar but you can’t quite place them. and when you turn around, you see a tall man staring down. his shoulders are broad and his eyes are dark and intense, looking down at you in a way that makes your skin both crawl and warm. 

his hair is slicked back and then it’s finally the way his lips quirk up that you remember him: the man from last night outside of the bathroom. the reminder sends you into a silent panic, the frantic beating of your heart starting to pound in your ears before you feel yourself grow faint. 

you’re only slightly aware of being picked up and carried over to a chair, being plopped down on a cool leather seat that feels nice against your warm skin. the crackling of the fire hits your ears before it’s replaced by the sound of ice clinking around in a glass, the presence of someone kneeling below you causing your eyes to flutter open again. 

and there in front of you is the man, his dark eyes and towering presence even as he’s bent down next to you. you watch as his hand reaches out, littered with tattoos on each knuckle, and you do your best not to flinch away. 

“suck it.” 

his demand leaves no room for objection, the ice cube he’s holding out for you cold and wet on your lips. you refuse to meet his gaze as you open your mouth slightly, his fingers pushing their way through your mouth and making your heart and stomach squeeze; if it’s fear or ill placed arousal, you’re not sure. 

but it quickly turns to anger when he pushes down on your lips. he swirls the wetness over them as you meet his gaze, this bizarre mix of hard warmness as he explains to you that you probably passed out from shock. you can’t even stop yourself from spitting the ice cube at him, watching him with cold eyes as it hits his chin.

the way he tenses and his eyes darken make you think he’s about to hit you but you could give a shit, looking at him with such ferocity as anger courses through your veins; who the hell is this lunatic and why does he have you here? why does he have a picture of you hanging above his fireplace like it’s some sort of family portrait?

his jaw clenches and he rips himself away from the chair, his hand flying up to his hair before you straighten yourself up and shake the remaining nerves away.

“who the fuck are you?” you snap, “why am i here?” 

he doesn’t answer your questions, just looks at you with a challenging look like he almost doesn’t believe you’re talking to him like that. you purse your lips to the side, biting at the inside of your cheek when you jump up from your seat despite your pounding head. 

“are you gonna answer me or not?” you ask, making your way over to him like he doesn’t completely tower over you. “who the fuck are you and where did you-”

“sit down.”

you narrow your eyes at his demand, the way his voice is calm and steady despite the darkness in his eyes only making you more eager to poke at him. he’s completely ignoring your questions and expecting you to listen, making another wave of anger course through you. 

“fuck you and answer me,” you snap. “why do you have that portrait of me?”

“sit down,” he repeats, an edge to his voice though still steady enough. but you couldn’t care less, desperate and getting more and more anxious to know who this psycho is and to know-

“where am i?” you ask, voice high and booming through the living room as you raise your pitch. and that seems to be what makes him crack, makes him step forward and grab you by the arms roughly. he pushes you back down into the chair, words dying in your throat as he manhandles you. 

“sit the fuck down.”

the silence between you is thick as he glares at you, your own eyes wide and fiery as you meet his stare head on. it could be thirty seconds or two minutes but you both don’t say a word, just have a stare off that makes him take your jaw in his hand roughly. 

“you wanna know why you’re here or not?” his voice growls out, the power behind it not even scaring you because “that’s what i’ve been asking, you fucking-” 

his hand squeezes your face and your eyes narrow because you refuse to wince from the pain. 

he lets out a sharp exhale before releasing his hold, giving you a warning look before he takes his drink and makes his way over to the fireplace. he stares dramatically at the flames and if your chest wasn’t heaving from your heavy breaths and fear, you’d yell at him to spit it the fuck out. 

but you have to remember you’re dealing with someone who just kidnapped you, that you’re gonna have to try and control your temper if it means getting the hell out of here.

“i saw you five years ago,” he surprises you by saying, “the night my father died.”

you raise an eyebrow at the his words but don’t have time to dwell on them. can’t try to see if you remember him at all or think about where you might’ve seen this tall, handsome nut job before he starts talking again. 

“i’d been watching you on the beach right before he got shot. i kept trying to look away but i...couldn’t. you just captured my attention and i don’t know what it was about you.”

his words make you swallow as you watch him talk, his tense shoulders and hand gripping the glass as he probably relives the moment of his father’s death. and you feel bad because that’s awful, to see a loved one die before your very eyes, but what the fuck does that have to do with you? 

“but then you were gone,” he continues, “my dad was gone and then so were you. and i became...consumed with this feeling to find you again. i wanted you to be mine then and the feeling never went away.”

you can’t help the small laugh that leaves you, shaking your head in disbelief. how could he have gotten that feeling from just looking at you? he didn’t even know your name or have a conversation with you; if you had to guess, it probably all had to do with physicality. 

because neither of you were blind, both two good looking people and if he wasn’t a kidnapping lunatic, you’d be attracted to him in a second. but you also don’t believe in being owned - you’re your own person and refuse for someone to refer to you as theirs. 

“that sounds pretty fucking crazy to me,” you snap, crossing your legs as you squint your eyes and look at him. “you didn’t even know me and you still don’t. i’m not something to be owned, especially by someone like you who thinks kidnapping me would automatically make me yours.” 

“i know,” he says. and for a second you think maybe you got it all wrong. you don’t know what any other possible scenario could be but if he knows you’re not his and that he can’t just take you, then what the hell is this for? what’s with the freaky portrait and abduction? what’s with that-

“that’s why i’m giving you a chance to fall in love me.” 

your eyes bulge open at his words, looking at him in disbelief and shock because this fucking guy cannot be serious. neither of you say anything until you shake your head, watching him walk toward you when he sees you’re ready to bolt and scream at him. 

“what the fuck are you talking ab-”

“i’m giving you a chance to love me on your own. so you can see that i felt something for a reason. not because i forced you but because you’ll actually have feelings for me, too.”

“i don’t want a fucking chance, i don’t need one,” you snap, sick and tired of the ludicrous nonsense coming from this grown man. “i have a boyfriend and a life to get back to. i don’t know you and you don’t know me and you’ve gotta be really fucking deranged to think i’m gonna stay here and-”

his words cut you off as he plops down in the chair next to you, explaining his men have already “put a hold” on your life as you know it. e-mailed your work and left a note for your boyfriend and family, made it seem as if you wanted a break and took a much needed vacation they had all been begging you to go on.

“and if you don’t love me, i’ll let you go,” his deep voice tells you, like he’s gonna be so gracious toward you and your wishes. “but i’m just asking for you to see what it’d be like. to have a life with me and see if you could love me.”

you don’t know how to process what this man is saying to you, thinking that he has to have some sort of mental illness. using his piecing eyes, towering frame and good looks like that’s gonna somehow be enough for you to fall at his feet. 

but if he thinks it’ll be that easy, he has another thing coming.

because while yes, he’s attractive and yes, you could see yourself being attracted to him if he wasn’t a raging lunatic, you will absolutely not submit to him. so you turn your head to the side and smile at him, a small, sarcastic smile with your eyes narrowed as you look at man staring down at you. 

“go fuck yourself,” you say through gritted teeth, jumping up from your chair and away from him. you only get about three steps before he gets up and grabs you around your waist. his hands are large on your waist as he throws you back down on the chair, pulling you by the hair so your neck is craned up against the back of the cushions. 

you’re only slightly aware of his knee between your legs, more so focused on the way your heart is pounding and breath is strangled from his tight, strong hold on you. how his dark eyes are boring into yours and how his hand is hovering over your chest. 

it feels like he’s got you completely caught and that you can’t do a thing about it. your mind racing to push and fight and get away from him but your body doing it’s own thing. tightening at the way his knee is so close to your pussy, his hand almost grazing your thigh while his other is right next to your head.

“i’m not gonna touch you or do anything you don’t want me to,” you hear him mumble in your ear. you can feel your heat against his knee as his breath fans across your neck, noticing the way you shiver and how it’s the firs time you’ve given in since he brought you here.

but he also sees fear and that unsettles him. makes him feel like you think he’s a monster.

“i’m gonna wait until you come to me on your own. ready for me to touch you and then begging for me to fuck you.”

you sharply inhale as he completely rests his hand on your boob, feeling the sheer size of it in comparison to your chest and not being able to help but swallow nervously. and then he squeezes and a gasp leaves your mouth, his mouth hot and close to your ear. 

“but don’t fucking provoke me,” he warns lowly, his knee pressing against your dress that’s pooling loosely between your legs. “because i won’t be gentle.” 

you don’t even realize you’re shaking until he pulls away, watching him let out a sigh as he walks back over to the fire. his walk is cold and calculating despite the way he’s so hot and unpredictable, a burst of anger in his eyes before you can even blink. 

the crackling of the fire rings in yours ear again as you look over at him, feeling a wet tear on your cheek that you didn’t even feel escape. 

“i’ll give you 365 days. if you don’t love me by then, i’ll set you free.”

another round of panic and anger fills you despite the terror you’re feeling, shaking your head and wiping at the tear before you spring up and start to run. but the man only growls again, snapping his head around before the sound of his feet following you cause you to speed up.

but it’s no use because he wraps his strong arms around your waist and shoves you against the wall, his chest flush against your back. you feel his lower body pressed into your ass and you want nothing more than to kick him right between his legs, knowing that that is probably the reason for all of this. 

“if you just want to fuck me, then get it over with. don’t try to say this is about love, you sicko.”

you hear him chuckle in your ear before he takes your hair in his large hand, wrapping his fingers around it and pulling so you’re looking at him. he can see in your eyes that you’re scared but also ready to fight, the searing determination and anger in them making him all too excited and fond of you. 

“it is, baby girl, what do you take me as? a perverted monster?” he asks with a smirk and you’re so so tempted to spit in his face and continue to curse at him. but you can’t because then his lips brush yours, not enough to classify it as a kiss, but just a little tease. just enough to feel your breath tangle and mouths to part on one another. 

“and i already told you i’m only gonna fuck you once you’re begging.”

you tried to escape again the next night. 

stayed camped out and hidden away in your room all day until it became dark outside your window. he had come in a few times to check on you and you had faked a slumber each and every time, your lip curling when you see he had left food for you. 

what a polite kidnapper, you thought, giving you deadlines to be set free and food like he’s the poster child for psychotic abductors. 

but then what you discovered about him proved that, maybe, he really was psychotic. or at least very much a criminal. because one second, you’re rushing down the hall and through the main room where your picture is creepily hanging and the next you’re outside. 

the cold night air hits your face and you tell yourself not to get too excited yet, you still have an acre of land to maneuver while also avoiding him and the several other men you think must work for him. the other men you see standing in a circle, your tall, broad kidnapper looming over someone curled into a bloody pile on the floor.

and then without a second thought, you watch his arm extend down and a gunshot rings through your ears. it’s the first time you’ve ever heard that sound and you watch with wide eyes and a pounding heart as the bullet hits the man and his shaking, shriveled up body stops. 

dark familiar eyes meet yours as you feel yourself grow faint, a pair of arms wrapping around your waist before you hit the concrete floor underneath you. 

the next time you open your eyes, you’re back in the bedroom. still so shocked by how nice it is, how soft the bed is under you and the view outside the bright, sunny window. you stretch out your body as you try to remember how you got here, remembering the way you crept around the house desperate you find a way out.

“are you okay?”

the deep voice coming from the corner of the room causes you to jump, looking over to see the man’s long body leaned back and sitting in the chair. he’s watching you carefully and shirtless, his board shoulders and toned stomach on complete display. 

it makes you swallow as you try to not allow your eyes to roam, remembering that this is the man who’s forcing you to stay with him for a whole year. a whole year and he hasn’t even told you his name yet. or told you his occupation, but it seems kind of obvious given what you saw last night.

how him and his men hold such a powerful, strong presence. how they have guns and protection at all times and they were able to so callously watch a man die. 

“i’m sorry you had to see that,” he says, his soft voice sounding so foreign to your ears; but then it gets that deep growl back and you find yourself not being able to look away from him. “but he deserved it. he was hurting children and betrayed us. we don’t allow that type of shit.”

you can’t help the smirk that crosses your face at the comment, your tongue poking at your cheek as train your gaze on his face and feel something vengeful and petty course through you.

“but kidnapping women is okay?” 

his eyes narrow at your comment but he only pops his neck to the side, his eyes raking over your exposed legs in the night dress you’ve been wearing since yesterday. you notice his eyes on you and raise an eyebrow, not missing the dark look in them as he takes in the sight of you. 

“what exactly do you do?” you ask him with a raised eyebrow. “since, you know, i don’t even know your fucking name.”

he smirks, bending his head down so he doesn’t laugh because okay, maybe this whole situation is a little absurd. 

“sorry about that. i’m yunho,” he tells you when he looks up, his deep voice a contrast to the glint of amusement in his eyes. “and i’m a... business man. the head of a corporation, we’ll say.”

you let out a scoff as you shake your head, jumping up from the bed and making your way over to him. “if i’m stuck with you for a year, you’re gonna fucking be honest with me. you can’t just keep everything from me and expect me to-”

he’s out of his seat and you’re on your back in a second, the soft bed under you as he looms above you. despite the harsh way he got up and pushed you back, nothing is threatening. he’s just looking at you with his usual hard stare, his long finger tracing down on your neck and over your pulse point.

“listen to me carefully, pretty girl,” yunho breaths out. “i am gonna be honest with you about everything. my intentions with you and anything regarding that. but my work stuff? you’ll know what you need to know about that.”

you let out a shaky exhale as you look up at him, ignoring the way his finger on your neck makes you feel warm and like a piece of prey caught. 

“because that’s what’s gonna keep you safe. the details are dangerous and you need to stay out of it,” he continues, his hand softly running through your hair. his eyes roam over your face again, moving to caress your cheek and you don’t wanna believe it but it’s actually a soft and sweet touch. 

“i know you don’t believe me, now, but your safety has quickly become my number one concern.”

you swallow down the lump in your throat, staying trapped underneath him as looks over every bit of your face. you don’t understand him, how he could go from hot to cold and how he could look at you in such a way that holds care and desire. 

he pulls himself away from you and makes his way over to your door silently.

“you should get showered and dressed, we’re going shopping.”

your eyebrow quirks up as you look at him, sitting up on the bed and turning so you can look at him. “oh?” you quip, “so now you’re trying to buy me?”

his hand comes up to his face, rubbing over it in stress before he meets your eyes. “no,” he grunts out lowly, your eyes running over the long, tattooed fingers you can’t seem to look away from. “but you’re gonna need clothes, are you not?”

“i guess i am,” you bite out in annoyance, rolling your eyes when he leaves the room without another comment.

you felt bad about spending his money for all about five seconds.

but now. now you were almost doing it vengefully, picking up the most expensive pair of shoes you could find just so he could be charged the absurd amount of money.

but by the sixth store, you saw it was no use. because he just handed over his black card without a care in the world, like you weren’t raking up thousands and thousands of dollars on clothes and shoes. and you think about how someone so obviously a criminal attains that kind of wealth, hooking the lace bra that matches your black thong when no other than he himself bursts through the door.

it’s in the same manner in which he took you from your life, abrupt and absurd and like he belongs in that room, deserves to be seeing you standing there half naked like this lingerie is for him. “get out,” you snap, not caring that his eyes are on you but more so at the way he thinks he can just do that. 

he only raises his eyebrow at you, bursting in just because he thought you were in there for far too long and was paranoid you somehow escaped him and his four men. but instead he’s met with the sight of you, lace complimenting your skin so well and it’s taking everything in him not to crumble at your feet. 

especially when, after he doesn’t answer, you advance further with a look in your eye that makes his dick twitch in his pants. “get. out,” you say through clenched teeth, pushing him back until his back hits the door. “or else.”

“or else what?” he challenges, not being able to help the way a smirk spreads across his face or the way his eyes roam your body. you’re just so fucking hot and angry, nothing like the woman he thought you were five years ago but finding this way better.

the way you’re so feisty and don’t back down, the way you act like this but then submit the second his hand is on you. because you’re bound to say something in a second that’s gonna make anger course through his veins and-

“or else this will be the last time you’ll see me like this,” you tell him with a smirk, not thinking twice about palming him through his pants the same way he did your chest. ”it’ll be a long year for you, don’t you think?”

and just like he predicted, his hand reaches around your throat and he backs you up until you hit the cold mirror. you look away so you don’t smirk at the reaction you just knew you were gonna get, hearing the way his breath turns ragged and his vein bulges out of his neck from trying to control himself. 

“i can promise you that won’t be the case, baby girl,” he growls in your ear. the tiny chuckle you release causes him to tighten his hand around your neck even more, your hand reaching down again so you can cover his bulge. 

“are you promising or hoping?” you ask him, your voice breathy and eyes teasing as you look up at him through your lashes. “because those are two very different things.”

you watch his jaw tick and eyes darken even more before he releases his hold on you, staring down at you for a few silent moments until you’re finally alone in the dressing room again. and when you are, you rip the lingerie off and slip on your dress again, annoyed by him and this situation and your ill placed arousal at teasing him. 

“i’m done,” you announce as you walk past him, crumbling up the underwear and bra in your hand before throwing it at his face. you roll your eyes at the familiar sound of feet following you, walking yourself out of the store and back to the car he all but dragged you into hours earlier. 

later that night at dinner, however, his eyes and demeanor take a turn that calm your irritation. it doesn’t halt it or dissipate it by any means but you crazily enough find that you’re...accepting of the conditions. it started when you sat down and saw all your favorite meals cooked, raising an eyebrow when you asked him just how long he’d been stalking you. 

he only rolls his eyes and tells you he watched you carefully at the party you first saw him at, how he noticed you avoided all the red meat and your eyes lit up in particular when it came to the pasta and seafood dishes. 

“what a gracious kidnapper you are,” you tell him, resisting the urge to moan in delight when you pop the ravioli in your mouth; fuck him, it really does taste good. you look over to see a blank look on his face, raising your eyebrow questioningly from across the table. 

it takes a while to get the conversation going, the both of you just commenting on the food or clothes before he finally thinks about how to approach it. 

“i know this is a...hard situation. but for it to work, we both need to try.”

your eyebrows pull together at his comment, putting your fork down as you cock your head to the side. and once he’s sees you’re about to say something, most definitely sassy and anger-inducing, he talks again. 

“we can make this year either really fucking good or really fucking hard. but we both need to try, y/n. you need to see this as an opportunity given to us by fate.”

“by fate?” you question, voice raising as you feel irritation fill you. “you fucking took me, yunho. you planned this all out and kidnapped me. this was completely your doing!” 

his fists clench as drops his gaze away from you, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough until blood is drawn. he knows you’re right and that this instant of meeting wasn’t fate. but him seeing you that night was, him getting that feeling and not being able to stop thinking about it was. 

“but first seeing you wasn’t,” you hear him say, his head snapping up to look at you. “it felt like i was given you before my dad died. that i couldn’t take my attention away from you because...something knew i was gonna need you.” your eyes narrow as you listen to him talk, the honest and brashness in his tone making you keep your mouth shut. 

you still think it’s fucking crazy and it still doesn’t make sense. but you know what trauma can do to the mind also. 

“but then he was gone and so were you. and i can’t find my father again until i die but i found you again. i found you.” the words don’t sound like they should be coming out of his mouth, the deep voice that growls curses at you with eyes that flare just as much darkness. 

but now he gets up from his seat to walk over to you and you don’t find yourself being scared. the way he circles your chair not making you feel like he’s a big bad hunter and you’re a fragile little deer. 

“you keep saying i have to try,” you say, spinning around in your chair and looking up at him. he’s watching you so carefully, like he’s hanging on every word you’re saying tonight because you haven’t cursed at him and tried to run away. “but you’re not much better yourself. you have a temper too.”

“i know,” he says, bending down so his face is at your level and a small smirk on his face looking almost...cute. “but i want you to help me. help me learn to be more...gentle. for you.”

you let out a quiet sigh, nodding your head before you bite down on your lip and look up at him with something darker in your eyes. “and it’s still true what you said the first night? that you won’t...force me to do anything?”

his hand reaches up to caress your cheeks as he shakes his head, the soft look in his brown eyes the nicest you’ve seen since you know this man. “i’m not the monster you think i am,” he says, his eyes falling to your lips before he looks into your eyes again. “and i hope you’ll see that one day.”

the next few weeks with yunho were rather....calm. he ate every meal with you and you guys got to know each other a little more. no snippy comments or reminders that he’s technically holding you hostage, just conversations that were light and let you two see more about each other.

how he’s tough and hard but has a soft side. how even though he’s harsh with his men, you see the fond way he looks at them. he learns that even though you’re naturally bratty and roll your eyes way too much, you also have a sweet smile that could melt away almost any of his qualms. 

but getting you on the plane proved to be a challenge. 

“i’m not a sack of potatoes you can just transport from country to country, yunho,” you snap, “and why do i have to go anyway? you barely tell me what you do for work in the first place.”

he only took your face in his large hand and squeezed, realizing over these past few days just how much your eyes linger over them. his long fingers covered in black ink, usually with sliver and black rings adorning them. 

“you’re going because i’m going,” he answers lowly in your ear. “and i’ll put you over my shoulder if i have to.”

“you wouldn’t fucking dare.”

but oh would he. because now here you sit, with your arms crossed, jet lagged  and a puss on your face as you sit in a ritzy hotel. he’d been making you sit here like some perfect little trophy waiting for him, your eyes following him as he sat down and talked with another tall handsome man.

and maybe because you were pissed or bored or knew by the way they kept glancing your way that they were talking about you but you couldn’t help the way you pranced over there with your vanilla ice cream cone in hand. licking at it slowly as a dollop of white covers your lip, wiping at it with your finger before swirling your tongue around it to lick it off.

“are you talking about me?”

your eyes meet yunho’s who looking at you with a guarded expression, the other man smirking as he introduces himself as mingi. “i was telling him what a...gentle, obliging woman you are.”

you raise you eyebrow as you lick at the ice cream, looking right into yunho’s eyes as you decide to poke the bear just a little bit. because he forced you on that plane and completely rendered you unable to move for the entire flight. he kept his hand on your knee and his cold skin felt nice on your warm leg despite the rage you felt. 

so now, you think, he deserves to be fucked with a little. in a way that he can’t fight you back on because he promised not to touch you. so you make sure to keep your gaze on him the entire time, swirling the ice cream around your mouth and tasting the vanilla on your tongue. 

“is that right?” you hum, looking at mingi as you lick off the white cream that’s covering your lips. 

“stop it,” you hear yunho’s voice growl but you can only smile, walking closer to mingi before you lick at the ice cream again. mingi’s eyes move to your lips for a split second before going to yunho, watching the way his friend is growing enraged and bothered. 

“you want some?” your voice suddenly asks, circling the tip of the ice cream with your tongue before pressing it to mingi’s lips. the man shakes his head and you turns your head to the side, a little hum leaving you just as yunho’s arm wraps around your waist and roughly pulls you into him. 

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

you turn around and meet his gaze, your eyes heated and vengeful and you think you’re probably having a little too much fun with this. 

“i’m bored,” you tell him flatly, reaching down for his hand before bringing it up to hover over your stomach. he sharply exhales but then instead of placing his hand on your skin, you drop the ice cream cone in his hold and walk off toward the elevators without another word. 

the hotel room is laid out eerily similar to your bedroom at...the room at yunho’s, a large bed placed in front of a full length shower with lights and an array of sprayers; you wanna know when this bizarre style of room became the choice for wealthy criminals. 

you strip down out of your clothes and walk toward the shower, turning on the faucet until the water is scorching. you laugh to yourself as you think of the way yunho’s probably downstairs still frustrated and anger at the stunt you pulled. 

you both promised to try with each other but how can you not have a little fun? especially when he forced you on the plane to a new country and already set the tone for the day? you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear the door open or yunho take in a sharp breath, your naked body exposed as water drips down the curve of your back. 

you only know he’s here when his naked body is next you, craning your head to see his broad shoulders and erection in the steamy air. you can’t seem to tear your eyes away despite what’s going on in this moment, far too distracted by how big his cock is. not like you’re surprised, though, given the sheer size of him. 

“you just gonna stare or are you gonna try to put on another show?”

his voice is even and low but there’s an underlying tone of frustration that makes you all too amused. you bite down on your lip so you don’t smile, instead choosing to let your eyes roam over his body. 

“i don��t know what you’re talking about.”

a huff leaves his mouth and he shakes his wet hair out, making his way over to you until he’s standing over your body. your eyes travel up his torso and pecks until you’re looking at him, your skin wet and only a few inches from grazing. 

“you wanna touch baby girl?” he asks, his voice deep and strained and you wanna laugh because it’s almost too fucking easy. you place your hands on his chest and turn him until he’s pushed against the wall, his adams apple bobbing at the way you press your naked body on his. 

the sexual tension and attraction has been palpable this entire time but it’s only getting more and more intense as the days go on, your hands sliding slowly down him as you feel him start to shake underneath you. you know he probably wants to throw you against the wall and wrap his hand around your neck, warn you lowly that he’s not gonna touch you but that you better not provoke him. 

but instead he just takes it, his head leant against the wall and his chest heaving as your fingers trace right above his cock. you’re not gonna lie and say you’re not wet and aching between your legs now but you can’t focus on that, far too distracted by the way it seems like you finally have him under control.

and it’s because of that you look at him, pump his wet dick just once in your hand and hear him growl. you smirk in his face as you circle the tip before pulling your hand away, feeling something hot and fiery sear through you at the way he looks so worked up over this; his eyes are dark and hazy and he looks about to ready to fuck you against the wall. 

you flick your hand so the water and his slick precum fall off your hand, rolling your eyes before you turn around and go to exit the shower; but then, just as you predicted, he reaches out and roughly spins you around. his hand is on the back of your neck and your mouths are just inches apart, his lips brushing yours and you can feel how ragged and rough his breaths apart. 

“how many fucking times do i have to tell you not to push me?” he growls against your mouth. “don’t you think your little stunt downstairs was enough?” you only look up and meet his gaze, the teasing look replaced with a hardness that causes him to squeeze you tighter. you just look so unbothered while he’s ready to explode, everything about you and your presence overwhelming him.

“you’re gonna make me do something i don’t wanna fucking do.”

and at the time, you think his words just mean he’s gonna go back on his words and show you that he’s a monster. that he’s gonna take you even though you’re not crying out for him and you can’t say you’d really be surprised at this point. 

so you only shrug your shoulders, quirking an eyebrow challengingly. “yeah? and what’s that? fuck me even though i’m not begging for you?” 

and that’s exactly what you think is gonna happen when he drags you down the hallway of the suite in a robe. you’re fighting against him but his hand is wrapped so tightly around your wrist, walking into another dark room as he throws you down on the bed. 

you rut against it and try to run away but he only pushes you down with a lowly growled “stop it.” you feel yourself start to panic slightly when he cuffs both your hands, black leather around your wrists and sliver chains attached to the high posts of the bed. 

you nearly kick him in the face when he does the same thing to your ankles, your growled out curses and screams telling him to fuck off falling on deaf ears. you’re completely spread out in front of him as he looks at you from the bottom of the bed, his body free of clothes as he peers down at you without a word. 

you don’t know what the fuck he’s about to do but you can’t stop the way you’re shaking. out of fear and arousal and fury and everything you’ve felt for the past month and a half of your life. you two just wordlessly stare at one another, his eyes never leaving your face despite the way your legs are spread, before he breaks it off and takes a seat on the couch. 

you narrow your eyes when his hard cock hits the air, the sound of the door opening making you swallow and tense; you half expect to see mingi walk through the door, some sort of sick twisted idea that yunho had to prove that you’re his.

what you don’t expect, however, is to see a woman you’ve never seen before walk in the room, clad in the black lingerie you threw in his face when you were shopping that day. something about it unnerves a crazy part of you but you don’t say anything, can only watch as she crosses the room and bends down into between his legs.

you bite the inside of your cheek and swallow down, almost not believing it when you watch her take his cock in her mouth. your mouth falls open slightly at the way he throws his head back and letting out a small groan, wondering what kind of sick shit he’s pulling right now.

his head falls back as you watch her head start to bob up and down, her hands laid out on his thick thighs and making something in the pit of your stomach burn.

he watched you flirt with mingi and now he’s making you watch this. watch as he moans and fucks up into this random woman’s mouth. his head rolls back up to watch you, your eyes wide and unable to leave the sight in front of you. 

but then the second you meet his gaze, you look away. 

because it’s too much, to see his glassy eyes full of arousal and lust as someone else sucks him off. as he moans and thrusts his hips frantically while you’re spread out right there and feeling wetness seep between your legs. 

“look at me,” you hear his deep voice growl. you swallow and bite down on your lip, the sound of the chains clattering when you try to move away at the sound of him moaning again sending a satisfied smirk on his face.

“i fucking told you to look at me.”

you can’t help but look up at his words, feeling yourself swallow a whine when his eyes roll back into his head. the girl’s head bobs faster and faster on his dick, his large tattooed hand grabbing the back of her hair as he bites down on his lip.  

the room is full of sounds of his strangled grunts and her slurping, the way you flail and rut against the clanking chains making you more and more angry. why is he doing this and why is it working? why are you so effected by seeing someone else get him off and wishing it could be you?

because the burning ache between your legs is too much and you feel the wetness on your thighs. 

you can’t tear your eyes away from him when you know he’s about to come, the way he bites down on his lip and fucks up into the hot mouth sucking and licking him. he makes sure to look right at you when his mouth falls open, releasing into the girl’s mouth and making a hot pang of desire shoot right through you. 

you’re clenching around nothing and hate that you feel this way, how wet and ready you are for him to push that girl off of him so he can fuck you. fill you up the way you feel the need to to be despite everything so fucking wrong with this situation. 

but when he makes his way over to you, the girl wiping at her mouth as she walks out of the room, he doesn’t look like he plans on doing so. he only leans over your body and can smell the arousal on you, his large hand in between your legs and on the soft, wet sheets. 

“maybe now...you’ll be a good girl for me. and won’t pull the shit you do.”

you look up at him through hooded eyes and feel your mind clouded, his flushed face looking down at you with such a hard stare. you try to touch him but you’re still completely tied up, a whine leaving your mouth as the chains clatter and your restraints just get tighter. 

“yunho,” you whine out and the sound of your name falling from your lips almost makes him crack. but he only takes your face in his hand, his thumb running against your lower lip that you immediately take in your mouth.

you look up at him as you suck his finger, swirling your tongue around him and feeling your pussy throb. he watches for a few seconds before shoving his finger down you throat until you gag, shaking his head as he trails his finger down your chest and circles your hard nipple. 

“do you want to touch me now?” you hear him mumble lowly in your ear. a broken whine leaves your mouth as you whine out a yes, to beg him to fuck you and that you need him his cock and want him now. 

“please,” you whine and you don’t even recognize your own voice. 

because the pounding in your ears and between your legs is completely overpowering you. he leans closer to you and takes your face in his hand, his body overs yours and his hot mouth by your ear making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“i’m gonna fuck you so hard baby girl,” he grunts lowly and the words fill you with such relief and excitement. your pussy clenches in anticipation and you pull against the restraints so you can touch him and have your hands on him. 

his eyes watch you carefully, the way your robe has fallen off your shoulders and your nipples are hard in the air. how your legs are shaking and he wants nothing more than his bury his face between them.

but you pushed him to this point and now, even though it pains him, he has something to prove. it’s why he bends down to kiss at your inner thighs, his lips and hot mouth so close to your pussy you feel tears in your eyes. 

“i’m gonna fuck you until you scream for me,” you hear his deep, strangled voice says. he can’t help but lick up your pussy just once, toying at your clit just to get a taste of you as you widen your legs and scream out at the feeling.

but then his mouth is away and he brings his face to yours, pressing his lips to your mouth in a kiss. the first real kiss you two have had thus far, where your lips are parted and you can even taste your heavy arousal on him.

“but it won’t be tonight, baby girl,” he hums, kissing down on your neck before pulling away and leaving you panting on the bed. he makes no move to untie you or fuck you or do anything, just leans his head against the bed frame and looks over your body with lust in his eyes. 

“after all, we have a whole year together, don’t we?”

[jangofctts]

Ma’am I’m dying out here. It’s always “Void will wreck you in the fresher” and “Void has the third best stroke game of the squad” but never “Here I wrote a lil blurb of Void wrecking your shit”

Please I need we need it

smH YOURE RIGHT IVE BEEN DENYING YALL KJEKEJH

ct-7775 void // fem!reader

warnings: shower sex 

You’re not quite sure when this became a regular occurrence--a couple months ago you think. Sorta like date night, except in the fresher...naked and undoubtedly against regulations. That’s what makes it fun you suppose--a little late night thrill.   

Not like anyone would find you, you specifically chose time slots around midnight so you’d have the entire fresher block to yourself--an ingenious idea and totally worth waking up with wet hair in the morning. You just--well you didn't expect someone else to have the same idea. Safe to say it was a little jarring to cross paths naked and afraid, soaped up and scrambling for a towel with Sunburst squadron’s finest and only medic. Void. 

To be fair, he hadn't even seen you. It was the end of your shift, tunnel vision on one thing, and one thing only. A nice hot fresher and certainly not a naked you. 

With neither of you willing to budge and shuffle around schedules, you came to the brilliant conclusion that you could both shower at the same times--just so long as you both kept your eyes to yourselves. Funny how that rule barely lasted two weeks.    

Safe to say, it’s been the best sex you’ve ever had. And all done in a fresher for kriff’s sake. 

Once or twice every week you have Void all to yourself--that permanent scowl and grumpy mannerisms washing away with the flow of water and the warmth of your skin. A completely different man--one briefly unburdened with the weight of keeping his brothers alive and well just to send them off to battle the next day. You don’t mind being his distraction--as fleeting as it may be.   

Tonight is no different as the solid line of his body slips in behind you, filling in the limited amount of space left in the tiny space. And you mean tiny. You can move without challenging your flexibility or banging your elbows and knees against the walls.

The touch of Void’s palm over your ribcage pulls a pleased sigh from your lungs. His fingers tickle up your shoulder blade and sweeps your hair, plastered to the nape of your neck, to the side. “Let me see you...”

You turn without hesitation, giggling as Void’s hand cups your cheek, his thumbs jumping up to smooth down your eyebrows and wick away the rivulets of water. Before you have the chance to greet him, Void tugs you forward into a deep, toe-curling kiss, shuddering as the cool durasteel of the wall touches your back. You break away and place your palm over his cheek. leans into your palm and smiles as your thumb lands right over the little blue dot tattooed onto his cheek.

“How was it today?”

“Sweets got a splinter and Fuse burned himself playing with matches again.” Void grumbles, sliding his other hand up to cup one of your breasts. He pinches your nipple and rolls it between his forefinger and thumb, plucking out a gasp from your parted lips. “All I could think about was you--always distractin’ me.”  

You roll your eyes. “Boohoo--baby is distracted by my tits. You’re lucky I like you.”  

Void buries his face into the crook of your neck, nips at your ear and hooks his arm around your waist. “Mhm. If I accidentally kill someone, s’because of you.”  

You slide your fingers through his hair, a bit long once it’s wet and free from his headband--you give the strands a playful jostle. Void tilts his head, skims his lips over the line of jaw and steals another kiss--when he pulls away he hesitates here for a moment--simply drinking in the shape of you, every freckle and little wrinkle, grafting it into his memory for eternity. It’s a two way mirror however--

The bags under his eyes, like two swaths of purpling bruisers, are worse than last week and Maker--do they ever give this man a break? “Void--when’s the last time you slept?”

He blinks rapidly and shoves his head back into the crux of your shoulder to avoid your scrutiny. “Don’t worry about it.”

You frown. You’ll push him about it later, because right now? He’s trailing tiny, addicting kisses from your shoulder up to your ear, your blood already singing even though the chaste pecks border innocent. You gasp as those kisses morph into nips, sucking sure to be bruises into the flesh, marking you just below the line of where the collar of your uniform ends.

The arm around your waist skims further down, grabbing a handful of your ass and roughly squeezing.  You whimper, curling further into his hold as liquid heat races from the pit of your stomach and outward to each and every limb. He worms his muscled thigh between your legs, pinning you further against the wall, the hand on your ass snaking back to massage tiny circles over your thigh. You whimper and thread your fingers into the wet strands of his hair, arching into his chest.

“Fuck--you’re a vision,” Void pants, “So beautiful.”  

He moans low in the back of his throat as your hand gently encompasses his cock, thick and swelling to its full length in your palm. “I could say the same about you, handsome.”

 Void shudders and sags into your hold, huffing out curses and roughly parting your thighs further apart. You whine and press your head into the wall as he hikes your thigh up and around his hip. He then slides two of those thick, calloused fingers pass over your clit, throbbing and aching to be touched. Your own slick mixed with the aide of the water let the two digits glide with ease over your lips, rocking down to circle your clenching entrance then back to lightly trace the little bundle of nerves.

His cock jumps in your grip as you whine his name, needy and desperate as you roll your palm up and down his cock. He curses under his breath, and bites your earlobe. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

You groan as he pushes a finger into your cunt, the muscles squeezing around him for just a shred of pleasure. “Yes--please, Void--fuck me.”

“Such a filthy mouth.” He chastises with a dark chuckle.

You groan out your frustration as you roll your hips, your nails digging into his bicep to pull him closer. He must take pity on your squirming, pathetic display as he abruptly extracts his finger and drops your thigh. 

Your stomach drops as your bare feet slip off the tiles, yet the heavy muscled weight of Void’s chest pinning you forward saves you from landing ass over heels. He’s stronger than he looks, a fact you’re confronted with as he scoops your knee over his elbow and squishing you further into the wall. “Careful, mesh’la--wouldn’t want a trip to med bay, now would we?”  

You swear and dig you nails into his shoulder, slippery from the water. He grips his cock in one hand and slides the thick head over the wet slit of your cunt, the tip of him catching against your dripping entrance.

You jerk and press your hips back. “V-Void…”

Your breath catches in your throat as the very tip of him, searing hot and harder than tempered steel, pushes into you. It feels the same with each time he fucks you, that pinch and fluttering panic low in your stomach that he’s too big. You squirm and whine as he rocks his hips forward, the little motions seating him deeper into your greedy center. Maker— you think it’ll go on forever, with no room to accommodate him.

“There you go,” he babbles, his breathing a mess of pitchy moans and praise, muffled by the spray of water. “Fuck—such a good girl. Taking it all.”

You shiver despite the temperature of the water, twitching in his hold as the narrow dip of his waist slots against your cunt. Your name flows past his lips, the enamel of his teeth tugging at the fragile skin lining the base of your neck.

Stars— your thoughts are pulverized into dust with the first tentative rolls of his hips. There’s no buildup to the pace he sets or patience as his fingers dig into your ass while the other anchors to the wall. 

It’s a ridiculously short amount of time, you think, as your orgasm creeps down each vertebrae, your cunt clamping down on his cock tighter than a fucking vice. One last roll against your clit and you’re done for. So fucking gone.    

The edges of your entire universe drop off into some unknown mystery--bursts of white light igniting behind your eyelids as you're brought over the edge.

“Shit—get so fucking wet when you cum,” Void snarls. “And tight. S-so fucking tight.”

You’re not allowed to float down from your high, not until he also reaches his end. Until then you’re forced through the rough scrap of the last dregs of your pleasure, his abdomen scraping agains your throbbing clit. The loud, wet slaps of his hips meeting your cunt echoes in the tiny space, accentuates every hitched moan and sharp whimper. Void’s hand slips off the wall and buries it into your hair at the base of your skull, tugging sharply as your core clenches around his cock.

“M’close,” he pants, his breath humid against your skin. “Can I—fuck--can I cum in you?”

You nod with a shuddering whine. 

Your nerves burn as you slip your own hand down to toy with your clit, a simple brush over the nerves and your careening off the edge again. Your cries are a jumble of incomprehensible babbles--the only thing you manage to latch onto is his name. 

With a dangerously loud curse, Void’s bruising pace quickens, frantic as he chases his own release. Void’s hips stutter, the hand in your hair tightening into a fist as his teeth embed themselves over your shoulder. With one—two last thrusts of his hips, he cums. Ropes of his release coats your insides, throbbing and twitching until he’s spent, left with the ambiance of quick panting and the trickle of water.

Stars, you can’t fucking think.  

With a grunt he stumbles back as much as he can in the limited space, the absence of his cock leaving his cum to dribble out and slip down the inside of your thigh. You’re still squeezing your eyes shut, jittery and unable to move from your current spot without the risk of stumbling to your knees.

Void dips his head and steals a kiss, dragging his tongue deep into your mouth. He groans and keeps you here, leading you through soft kisses and a careful dance of something more than just a simple fuck in a fresher. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to breach that gentle space between you—grasp something tangible with uncertain promises and stolen minutes as sunlight fills the space between your heart and lungs.

He kisses your cheek, breaking away before either of you slip and tumble into uncharted territory. Another time maybe—not in the middle of a war and certainly not in a communal shower.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. And it’s enough—it has to be enough.

[babbushka]

Burnt Bridges and Goodnight Kisses

Flip Zimmerman x Reader x Kylo Ren 

5k, cw: ANGST (severe depression, grief, mentions of the war, Flip going away to war, hurt/comfort)

(A/N: This is much more melancholy than my usual sort of writing, so I completely understand if it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. No pressure at all to read, I’ve just been Going Through It, and needed to get the sads out of my system. I won’t be tagging anyone because of the subject matter, but I hope that if you read it, it’s cathartic in some way.)

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

It’s a sunny day, and Kylo’s at the shop. Elbow deep in the engine of a motorcycle for a customer that doesn’t deserve it, he huffs and puffs around a cigarette to keep the nerves in his skull from going on the fritz. They’ve got the windows open, too good of a day to be completely holed up in the garage, they’ve got the front door open too.

When a shadow falls over the engine, in the shape of a tall man with broad shoulders, Kylo doesn’t bother looking up to greet him. He’s sure it’s the customer, and he wasn’t supposed to be there until three – it’s not even a quarter past noon, who the fuck does this guy think he is?

Against his better judgement, Kylo squints into the backlit silhouette of the man before him, and his brain takes a moment to process what the fuck he’s looking at. The face is familiar, the stature even more so…but this, that couldn’t be…was it really?

“Flip?”

He’s bald, hair shaved down as close to his skull as they were able to get it. His face is bare too. It’s the first time Kylo’s ever seen Flip without his goatee. The man in front of him is Flip, but it’s wrong, it’s not the Flip he knows. Could be a twin brother for all Kylo fuckin’ knows, but that’s not his Flip.

Until this not-Flip sighs, and his shoulders sag in the way that Kylo has seen too many times for it to be refutable, and the not-Flip becomes Flip and Kylo’s stomach clenches, because what the fuck have they done to him?

“Don’t laugh.” Flip says, still standing there in front of Kylo, blocking the sunlight. He’s got his arms at his sides, hands fidgeting. His thumb rubs against the inside of his wedding ring, and it’s only then that Kylo takes in what he’s wearing.

Instead of the flannel and jeans and those cowboy boots of his, Flip’s in a matching green number with black combats on, and he’s bald and clean shaven and that means it’s really happening.

Kylo’s going to be sick.

He doesn’t laugh.

He can barely muster anything at all as he stands up, only able to choke out a pitiful, “Are you…?”

“Yeah.” Flip knows what he asking, knows that he’s asking if Flip’s leaving. There’s a hardness in Flip’s eyes that didn’t used to be there, and the room spins around Kylo.

“I’m sorry.” Is all Kylo can manage, hating himself for not being better at this. He never was good, at this, at the whole talking thing, communication. You had always teased him for that, teased the both of them.

Flip wasn’t very good at it either.

“I uh,” Flip makes an automatic move to scratch at his goatee, but then aborts the mission halfway through when he realizes that there’s nothing to scratch. Kylo wonders when he got that scar on his chin, how it happened. “I came here to say goodbye and...to ask a favor.”

“Anything.” Kylo finds himself breathing around his cigarette. Flip watches the movement, and almost without thinking, Kylo passes Flip the zippo lighter that he keeps in his pocket. Flip accepts it gratefully, lights up a camel and mulls over it in his lungs for a moment or two.

“I need you to take care of her for me.” He says quietly, on the exhale.

“Flip —” Kylo’s eyes widen, his stomach dropping. He has to brace himself, because this can’t be happening, it has to be a dream, some fucked up nightmare. He pinches himself hard on the muscle of his arm, certain that he’ll wake up with your body sandwiched between the two of them but the more he pinches himself the more frantic he starts to get.

“I mean it, Kylo.” Flip steps out of the light, walks around the bike that’s separated their bodies, puts his hands on Kylo’s shoulders and steadies him. Flip’s always been the one to steady the two of you, what the fuck is he going to do without him? “I...I need her to be okay, understand? I need to know she’ll be okay. When I’m gone.”

“You know that she won’t be.” Kylo blinks back tears, furiously denies ever letting them well up in his eyes. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, devastation or red hot anger. He’s not sure it isn’t both, as he clenches his jaw and his hands shake, “Has she seen you like this yet?”

“No.” Flip’s voice is quiet quiet quiet and it freaks Kylo the fuck out, how can a man so quiet go off to fight in such a loud war? Flip sighs, he looks tired already, exhausted. “I said goodbye before getting the cut, I didn’t want her to have this be the last memory she might have of me. Wanted her to remember me the way I always looked.”

“You’re talking like you’re not coming back.” He settles on angry, his voice starting to raise, his cheeks starting to grow hot.

“I don’t know if I will.” Flip responds with a tight pain constricting the back of his voice that has Kylo shouting, has him starting to make a scene.

“Shut the fuck up —!” Kylo throws the wrench he’s holding, throws it hard enough to shatter the one fucking window they left closed, everyone in the garage looking at him.

Flip does the thing he’s always been so good at doing, grounding Kylo. He drags Kylo into a hug, tight and firm and sturdy. Flip’s always been so fucking sturdy, steady. Kylo hates him for going away, he hates him.

“Kylo you have to listen to me. This war is fucked up, and nasty, and some boys don’t come back. Most of us won’t. I’m going to do my goddamn best to come home but there’s a chance I don’t.” Flip tries, but Kylo doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t want any of this.

“No you listen to me!” Wrenching out of Flip’s grip, the tears have starting to sting hotter now, and Kylo almost wants to hit him, wants to knock some sense into him as his vision blurs around wetness on his lashes. “You’re not allowed to fucking die over there, okay? You’re not. You can’t.”

“Will you do it?” Flip closes his own eyes, still not having gotten an answer from Kylo.

Kylo’s heart begins to pound, begins to thud dangerously loud in his chest. He can’t say yes, he doesn’t want to say yes, because the second he says yes then Flip will leave. If Kylo can just keep him here, maybe if Flip misses the bus to the airport, maybe if Flip misses his flight he won’t have to go overseas and can stay.

“She doesn’t love me the way she loves you.” Kylo admits, and it’s an admission that hurts. He’s known it for a long time, he’s known it ever since the day you chose him after that boxing match all those years ago. It still fucking hurts.

“But she loves you.” Flip licks his lips, starting to get desperate in his own right, starting to grow tense when he scowls, “Don’t you love her?”

“Don’t you?” Kylo shoots back, rage coming in full force again, a dangerous and nauseating see-saw. Everyone has cleared out of the garage by now, it’s just the two of them. Somewhere in the back of Kylo’s mind he can hear the door clicking shut, everyone giving them privacy, and so Kylo starts shouting again. “She’s your fucking wife! Don’t you love her enough to not go?”

At the insinuation that Flip could be something other than completely devoted to you, he grabs Kylo by the collar of his black-tshirt, shoves him back against a wall, shoves him hard. Flip’s face is two inches away from Kylo’s, and Kylo wants to kiss him so badly that he could cry. Maybe he is crying. If he is, Flip doesn’t say anything, he only bares his teeth in a snarl.  

“Look! I’m sorry that I’m not the son of a senator who could afford to put me through college so I could sit around and fucking tinker in a garage all day. I got drafted I didn’t sign up for this fucking war, I don’t want to fucking go, and I don’t appreciate you making it sound that way.” Flip snaps, shouting back, face shaking from it.

Kylo sees it then, the terror, the sheer and utter fucking terror in Flip’s eyes. Something about that, something makes him break, and suddenly Kylo’s doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to hold himself up with the force of his own fear; because if Flip – sturdy reliable formidable Flip – is afraid, then who among them wouldn’t be?

“I’m sorry.” Kylo cries, and Flip holds him, even though Flip’s crying now too.

“Will you take care of her for me?” Flip asks again, and Kylo’s still not willing to give him the yes, not yet, just a few more minutes.

“What exactly does that mean?” Kylo demands, vision going spotty as he tries to get a grip on himself. He can feel his sinuses going, and he sniffles and sniffles and sniffles until he just fucking wipes his nose with the sleeve of his tank-top, not giving a shit anymore.

“Just...keep her safe. Make sure she’s okay, happy. Love her.” Flip says it so quietly that Kylo thinks he’s imagined it.

“Love her?” He presses, and the two of them look at each other, really looking. Kylo frowns for a minute, before he catches Flip’s real meaning, and he’s afraid he’s going to be sick all over again, this time with shame – because he’s wished for that before, wished that he could have you all to himself late late at night when he was sure no one was listening.

He never meant like this, he doesn’t want it like this.

“If she wants to.” Flip nods in confirmation, “I’m not going to make her suffer and be starved of touch just because I’m gone fighting for Uncle Sam.”

“And what happens when you come back?” Kylo emphasizes on the when, not an if, because he has to believe that Flip’s coming back. He has to, it’s going to break everyone in this fucking town if Flip doesn’t come back.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” Flip decides, as the clock strikes one-o’clock. When Flip looks from the clock, back to Kylo, there’s an urgency in his voice as he asks, “Will you do it?”

That’s it, Kylo thinks, he can’t drag it out any longer.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Kylo whispers. He looks down, watches as one of his tears lands on his reflection in the mirror shine of Flip’s boots. He hates them.

With that, Flip’s done what he’s come here for, and there’s nothing left. There’s nothing left but for him to hand back the zippo lighter that Kylo had handed to him, so he does, and Kylo takes it even though his fingers have gone numb.

Flip’s walking away then, and Kylo watches him go, watches him for a minute or two before he’s sprinting out of the garage and into the sunlight, the dizzying bright yellow golden sunlight. It bathes everything in a glow that it doesn’t deserve, the world doesn’t deserve to be so beautiful when it’s taking Flip away.

Kylo sprints, a desperate last ditch effort, asking for something he doesn’t even know he needs, using a name he’s never called Flip before, shouting out, “Phil?!”

Flip stops walking, turns to face Kylo, only to get tackled by the biker in a hug so fierce and tight that it makes Flip grunt. Flip holds him back, the two men clinging to one another in broad daylight, right there in the driveway in front of the shop, out in the open, sun washing all around them.

“She’s not the only one who loves you.” Kylo whispers, face shaking, eyes flicking down to Flip’s lips for a split second.

Flip grabs Kylo by the face, a hand on his jaw, and crashes his mouth against Kylo’s. Their eyes close, and for a moment, Kylo can pretend they’re back at the big house up in the mountain, or in the little motel a town over, or even on Kylo’s own couch. But they aren’t, because you’re not here with them, and the reason you’re not here is because he’s leaving.

Something cold presses into Kylo’s palm – it’s the zippo. They break the kiss, and now there’s tears in Flip’s eyes too. Kylo can only wonder what the conversation must have been between you and him. If Flip’s crying in front of Kylo, Kylo can only imagine he had a nervous fucking breakdown in front of you.

Kylo pushes the zippo back into Flip’s hand and before he watches Flip walk down the sidewalk, headed towards a bus that will head towards a plane that will head overseas, Kylo tells him to, “Give it back to me when you come home.”

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

That had been a week ago.

He feels shitty about it, about the whole thing. He should have gone to you that same day, right after work. He should have gotten on his motorcycle and driven to your house and held you like he knows you need.

He hadn’t done any of that. Instead, when the work day had ended, and that customer picked up the fucking bike, Kylo went home. Maybe…Kylo didn’t know. Maybe he thought he could pretend everything was alright. That it was normal. Going home after work just like any other day.

When Friday comes around the calendar again, Kylo has almost forgotten that Flip’s gone. He had almost forgotten, until he started getting dressed for Shabbos dinner, and then remembered that there wasn’t going to be a Shabbos dinner with Flip for a long long time. And when he checks the calendar, he realizes it’s been a week since Flip left, and he hadn’t checked on you.

So he’s furiously ripping through the streets, half-dressed and terrified of the state he’ll find you in, blowing red lights and cutting around cars like the asshole he is, hating himself for not even so much as giving you a fucking call. The trip up the mountain is the same as it always is, but it’s different at the same time, different because he keeps expecting to see Flip pass him in that truck of his and it doesn’t happen.

The truck is under a tarp, when he finally makes it to your drive-way, the mailbox is filled with letters that you haven’t brought in. That’s not a good sign, none of this is a good sign.

There’s leaves on the porch, they crunch under Kylo’s heavy footfalls as he makes his way up to the front door. Knocking once, twice, three times in the little pattern that’s all his, Kylo tries not to chew his lip until it bleeds.

“Sweets? it’s me. Can I come in?” Kylo stands outside the front door, tries jiggling the handle. It’s locked, no give.

Kylo knocks again, this time a little harder, even goes so far as to ring the doorbell.

“Y/N?” He calls, this time a little louder.

Still no answer from you, and he begins to panic. Your car is in the driveway so he knows that you should be home, you should be. You didn’t like to go for walks by yourself in the woods, always worried about mountain lions, always teased Flip that one day he was going to get eaten. They used to tease you for your fears. Kylo wonders if Flip getting drafted had ever been one of them.

Kylo breaks into the house, breaks the window on the side of the house that he knows leads into the living room. He doesn’t break the glass, just the latch that keeps it locked, and manages to shove himself through the small square opening, crawling through the space headfirst, toppling onto his chest as he pushes himself into the living room.

“Fuck.” He sucks in a breath when he sees how much of a mess the place has become.

It looks like everything that was once on a bookshelf, table, credenza, desk or counter has been shoved to the floor. There’s boxes all around the living room, stacks and stacks of case files, of clothing. It smells like camels, there’s one smoldering still in a little ashtray on the coffee table. It doesn’t look like it’s been smoked once, just simply left to burn steadily, the ash long and undisturbed.

You’re on the couch, face tucked against the cushions, facing away from him. Despite it being bright outside, the living room is pitch black, all the shades drawn.

“Oh sweetheart.” Kylo sighs softly, as he very gently so as to not scare you, sits down on the floor next to the couch.

He switches on the little lamp on the side table, and you wince against the light, curling in on yourself. Kylo begins to rub soothing circles to your side, and you let out a shuddering sob, something wordless that catches in your throat. Kylo hates himself for not coming to see you sooner, he wonders how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve been on the couch like this.

“I know baby, I know. I’m here.” Kylo whispers, before trying to coax you up. It’s telling that you let yourself be manhandled without much resistance, too out of it to care. It breaks Kylo’s heart, he’s never seen you like this, not even when you were sitting by his bedside in the hospital after the big crash. A stab of guilt rings through him; you had sat by his bedside every night for a month then, and it had been a full week since he had even called you. “Baby we gotta get you put together, okay? C’mon.”

Kylo swallows the guilt, and stands, guiding you up up up with him. The moment you’re on your two feet, your arms cling to Kylo, your face shoving itself into his neck. Kylo just holds you, kisses the top of your head, tries not to wrinkle his nose at how your hair is in desperate need of a wash.

“I — what day is it?” You shiver around a hiccupped sob, red hot sorrow branding his throat.

“Friday.” Kylo responds, wondering what day you think it is.

“Oh, shit.” Is all you say, and that’s all that Kylo needs to hear.

“C’mon, we’re going to shower.” He tells you, but when you try and take a step forward it’s hard for you to stand up without his help. He makes the mistake of not supporting your weight and you go teetering over to the side, stumbling out from under yourself like you’ve forgotten how to use your legs. Kylo catches you, holds you close close close, deciding, “Fuck — okay, bathtub instead.”

You sit in the dark, in the bathroom. Kylo goes to turn the light on but you panic and stop his hand, not wanting him to see you, the state of you. You don’t say it, but Kylo thinks you’re more afraid of you seeing yourself. He doesn’t say it either, but the both of you know it. Kylo keeps the light off.

He sits behind you in the bathtub, your face away from him, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. You brush your teeth, and Kylo doesn’t even care when you spit the toothpaste out.

Carefully, gently, he washes your hair, uses all the products you’re too sad to even think about right now. Carefully, gently, he listens to your sighs as he washes your back, your arms and legs, soapy hands sudsing up the water. Carefully, gently, he cradles your body as you lean back against him, his legs bracketing your sides.

He tries not to scream.

You try too, but you fail.

He’s got his arms wrapped around your chest as your head thunks back against his shoulder and you wail wail wail. Your body shakes and trembles until you have no more tears, until the water’s run cold, until you let out a sigh that sounds like you’re done. Kylo unplugs the drain.

The two of you sit in the tub for a long time still, long after the tub has drained. You’re both too scared to stand, unsure if your knees will hold you up.

Kylo doesn’t know how much later it is when the two of you get up and get dressed. Kylo ties the sash of your robe tight enough but not too tight. He puts himself in a pair of sleep clothes that he’s left at your house for impromptu sleepovers like this, even though this isn’t nearly as happy of an occasion as the sleepovers usually are.

When the two of you are dressed, he takes you by the hand to your bed, tucks you in. It’s bright, in the bedroom, the late afternoon sun dipping behind the mountains. It’s golden hour, Kylo realizes, and once again everything is too bright. In the sunlight your face looks…awful. You look like you’ve been crying for a week straight, and Kylo knows it’s because you have been.

Your stomach rumbles, and you look sheepish about it, which worries Kylo. Everything about this worries Kylo.

“When’s the last time you ate something?” He asks, not accusatory, just concerned.

“I don’t know.” You shake your head, voice just barely above a whisper. Your hair is wet, and in the moonlight, he can see your eyes shining.

Your stomach growls again.

“I’m going to order something from the deli.” Kylo announces, and you nod, a small good sign.

Kylo knows your order like the back of his hand, always brings you over a big hero when he passes the deli, likes to bring you and Flip things. It’s only after he hangs the phone up that he realizes he ordered Flip’s hero too, wonders what the fuck he’s going to do with that.

Flip’s sandwich has extra pickles.

Neither of you like pickles.  

You burst into tears then, because you’ve just realized it too, and your face is buried in your hands now, and Kylo feels like he’s going to scream. Maybe he does, this time. Maybe he takes one of the pillows on Flip’s side of the bed and shoves his face into it and screams. He doesn’t know, he’s so out of his fucking depth.

Not for the first time, shame bubbles up inside Kylo’s chest. He remembers an argument that he had once had with Flip about his late undercover nights, how you had been so worried about the danger he puts himself into when he goes out like that. Kylo remembers shouting red in the face, veins popping out of his neck, that if you had picked Kylo, if you had been Kylo’s girl instead, if you had married Kylo instead, then maybe you wouldn’t be so worried all the time.

He remembers Flip throwing it back in his face that you hadn’t. You hadn’t picked him, and Kylo had to deal with it. Kylo had been bitter for a long time about that, he thinks. He’s not so sure now though, he’s not sure now what would have happened. There isn’t a man alive who loves you more than Flip, and not a woman who loves Flip more than you. Kylo sees that now.

You had picked Flip, and now Flip is gone, and Kylo is filled with shame, and you’re miserable.

“I’m sorry.” You’re crying crying crying, and Kylo doesn’t even know what you could possibly be sorry for, when all of this is his fault.

“Don’t you dare,” Kylo shakes his head, pulls you against his body because you’re shivering, and you’ve always teased Kylo for being so warm. “Hey, hey look at me. Don’t you dare apologize.”  

“I just miss him so much.” There’s a tremor in your voice, and your pitch goes higher and higher that way it does when you’re starting to spiral, as you shake harder and harder, “He’s out there alone, and god knows what he’s doing, if he’s okay, if he’s going to come back — fuck what the fuck do we do if he doesn’t come back? How do we live without him?”

“He’s okay.” Kylo cuts you off, because that’s a line of thinking he hasn’t even let himself go down yet, and he can’t deal with that, not right now. So instead he wills it, he puts it out into the universe, “I promise. You have to breathe, stop holding your breath.”

You shudder out a breath, not realizing you’d been holding it until he said something.

“You can’t know that.” Your chin wobbles, and Kylo envelops you, smothers you with love. He’s not sure it’s the right thing to do, but he hopes that if he just…if he just holds you tight enough, it’ll be okay.

“I do though, I do know. I promise you, he’s going to come back. I’ll go over there and get him myself, if I have to.” Kylo tries to joke, but it falls flat.

You’ve stopped crying, at the very least.

Kylo doesn’t let himself think about how he’s going to keep this up for as long as he might have to. It’s only been a week, but what happens when you’re still sad a year from now? What happens when Flip isn’t back in two? What happens if he really doesn’t come back at all? How do you move on when your entire world is built around the one person you love more than anything?

Kylo doesn’t have you the same way that Flip gets to have you, but at least Kylo gets to have you in some way. At least you weren’t taken from him and put on a plane, taken far away, not knowing if you’ll ever return. How does anyone ever recover from that?

They don’t, he supposes.

But he can’t think about that that, not now. Especially because you’re turned towards him, and for the first time Kylo sees something other than misery in your eyes.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” You ask, voice soft, apprehensive and hopeful.

“I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.” Kylo promises, knowing that at the very least this is one promise he can keep.

“Will you kiss me?” You whisper, and Kylo’s heart breaks. You never used to ask before, would just pucker your pretty lips and smile at him and he’d give you one without thinking.

You pucker your pretty lips now, but there’s no smile, and Kylo’s heart breaks. He presses his lips to yours, and the sigh that pours out from your chest has Kylo guilty all over again – he knows for a fact that Flip kisses you at least a dozen times a day, and because Flip was gone, because Kylo was too terrified to do anything about it, you’d gone a whole week without them.

The kiss isn’t heated in a passionate sense, it’s longing, yearning. Kylo’s mouth opens and his tongue slides against yours, tastes the minty toothpaste that lingers there. You wrap your arms around his neck, and Kylo wraps his arms around your middle, and you kiss and kiss and kiss one another, until your breathing evens out and you’re no longer taking those shuddering shivering gasping breaths.

“He asked me to, you know…” Kylo smears the words against your mouth, smudges them with his lips, making them all fuzzy.

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, knowing what he means.

“Yeah. If you want.” Kylo swallows around a lump in his throat, unsure of whether he wants you to want it or not.

“I don’t think I do.” You say, hushed hushed hushed like he can hear you, like someone is listening, “It doesn’t feel right without him.”

“I know. I just thought I’d mention it.” Kylo finds himself relieved, he doesn’t know why. He does, but he doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to say how much he misses Flip too.  

“I’m sorry.” You say again, and Kylo shakes his head, telling you not to be with another small kiss. This one feels closer to normal, and even though there’s food on the way, you’re starting to fall asleep. Kylo wonders if you’d been awake this whole time, waiting and waiting for a goodnight kiss. Your grip on him begins to loosen as you mumble out, “You’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.” He promises, and this too is another one he can keep.

He doesn’t know how many others there will be, but he knows that at the very least, this is one that he can keep. You fall asleep in his arms, your hair on the pillow, shining in the last of the sunlight. Kylo lets one of his big scarred tattooed hands rub against your back, and he begins to hum out a little tune. Something soft, gentle under his breath, hoping that wherever you are in dreamland, the music will soothe you.

And if, when the delivery guy leaves the food out on the porch some time later, when Kylo extracts himself from your arms to bring the heroes inside and pay the kid, if he brings Flip’s hero into the kitchen and eats it so he can start getting used to the taste of pickles so that you’ll have someone to give yours to, then that’s his business.

And if, when he strikes up a cigarette and finds that he’s missing his zippo, wishing he had it back again, wishing he had Flip back again, wishing and wishing and wishing, wishing so hard that you must hear it upstairs because you come down to hold his hand and rest your head on his shoulder as he lets big fat tears slip down his cheeks, well.

Kylo decides he’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it.

[kuuderekweenfics]

Dabi is Not a Liar

Hello everyone,

This is it. I’ve fallen off the precipice of...what exactly? Sanity? Or, perhaps, lack of shame? Who knows. But this was a fun little piece I wrote about a month ago. I put it up on AO3, but I thought I’d create a Tumblr for future fics since this is a bit more social.

Please keep in mind that I am shaking the dust off my writing and so it may not be the most polished piece of work. Go easy on me. But I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Explicit Warning: non consent or extremely dubious consent.

Fingernails carve into the the filthy brick of the abandoned building nestled by the sea. The pier moaned, it’s cold breath wrapping around your body and reeking sourly of fish and decay. 

Your head hangs low between your hollow arms. How you got yourself into this position is due to several reasons, of course. One, your brain is swollen twofold in your skull, pounding with the weight of lead. Two, shame caresses every part of your body far more thoroughly than the man who currently has you trapped between him and the wall. Three, and most likely the most crucial reason, Dabi, ‘the Cremator’ as he was so often called, has been railing you senseless for the past hour.

You cried yourself dry after about ten minutes. He came quickly the first time, unabashedly getting off on your whimpers and pleas. Where he dug up the stamina to keep his cock hard for another three rounds was a dull ache for your mind, and pussy, to ponder over. 

The strength in your knees escaped long ago. His fingers gripping your bare ass as he currently pounds himself into you, deeper and deeper each time, is the only support you have against gravity. 

He attempts some foreplay occasionally, killing the space between the two of you as he whispers into your ear threats of what is to come and reaches under you to thrash at your clit rough and carelessly. This is, you figured out, more to his benefit than yours; he had to get you more motivated to continue the little game he set for the both of you somehow. You mewl softly when he does, cursing your needy body for betraying your wants.

Because this isn’t what you want. No, no, no. Not even if his thick, veiny cock fills you to the brim and sometimes hits a spot in your core that makes you see stars and silently beg, much to your humiliation, for more.

What you want is to go pro. You just started working for a small agency start up only a week ago. You’ve dedicated to becoming a top ten hero, even if your quirk isn’t the most convenient. But if a guy who’s power was to do laundry could make it to the top, so can you and your absurdly comical gacha quirk. You are able to generate capsules from your hands, ranging anywhere between the size of a tennis ball to a beach ball, but the contents inside are always random. This little inconvenience made your quirk almost entirely useless. Despite it all, you trained hard and got a once in a lifetime opportunity at this agency. Your task today was to survey the pier for any suspicious activity called in by a concerned citizen. You were strictly told not to engage and call for back up as soon as you surveyed something worthwhile. But you immediately ran in, all too confident in your ability at hand-to-hand combat, as if you had something to prove. You crouched behind stacked crates and fumbled through your creations: a teddy bear, a toaster, a tennis racket. Before you could generate another capsule, you heard his whistle behind you. He was crouched, hands lazily in his pockets and looking over your shoulder with a deadpan expression that plainly said you were in over your head. 

But you knew you were quick. The tennis racket sped toward its target only to be crumbled to ash as his hand stopped it an inch from the side of his head. He smiled at you then, not quite reaching his eyes but eerie and menacing all the same. And before you could even fathom throwing the toaster, he pinned your neck to the wall. Your feet kicked helplessly against the brick, unable to find purchase on the floor a inches below. One of your hands pried at his arm while the other reached for his face or his neck or anything you could grab hold of that could cause enough pain to lot weaken his grip. Your breaths came up short, your lungs screamed for a sip of air. 

“It looks like a little mousy lost her way,” he chuckled. “Now whatever am I going to do with you?”

Drool leaked from your mouth as you fought against your restraint and blurred vision. Your mind clawed for consciousness, your body begged for survival. You had come to terms that one day you could potentially meet your end at the hands of a villain, as does any hero in this field of work, but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon. 

You felt the obstruction in your mouth before you saw it. The thumb of his free hand pressed on your dancing tongue, drool pooling where he held it down firm. If the look in his eyes scared you before, now they were wild and carnal and more terrifying. 

He first has his way with you with his hand still around your throat. He let up on his grip and was so gracious enough to let you wrap your legs around him while he impales you without a second thought. 

He grunts. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

You are no longer a virgin, but you’re sure you never experienced cock of this size, all the while without some form of foreplay. Granted, he used your drool to lubricate himself before sheathing himself deep in your gummy walls, the friction elicits a gasp of pain while from you as he moans and nips at your neck. Not long after he begins to thrust do you start sobbing, and soon after that he shoots inside of you, his cock twitching to unload what feels like everything he had. You hope it is over then. He would either kill you or leave you there broken physically and mentally. You find out soon enough it is neither.

“I’m gonna fuck you until your voice is gone from screaming my name, little mousy,” He gasps into your shoulder as the twitching finally ebbs and his release oozes down your thigh. “I’m gonna fill you with my cum until I am sure that when I leave you in this shithole, you will have a little part of me with you for the rest of your miserable life.”

And if there is one thing you can call Dabi, among the million curses and names you can conjure, you aren’t sure if you can call him a liar. For true to his word, albeit only partially, he comes into you, hard and relentless, two more times before starting once more. You are absolutely positive this goes against all modern male biology. But you guess, in a world with bizarre quirks, anything is possible.

Halfway through round four, you feels his fingers weave into your hair and, for a moment, you think Dabi just may capable of being passionate. Or, at the very minimum, maybe he thinks more of you than just a bucket for him to shoot his load in. This moment, you find, is fleeting as he yanks your head back and pulls you up until your back lies flat against his chest. He slowly pulls the zipper of your shirt down and grabs your breast callously, pinching your nipple hard until you cry out. 

You can only imagine that he’s grown bored of your silence and complacency because his other hand reaches around until his fingers find your clit, exposed and hungry for some well-deserved stimulation. His fingers rub small circles against it, and you feel nauseated as you let out a moan, your pussy clenching desperately around him in newly kindled desire.

He hisses at your reaction, an obvious stamp of approval and continues flicking your bundle of nerves as he pumps in and out of you. “Say my name.”

Your mind, which, up until this point, had been lost in a sea of fog, finally breaks the surface. And it is pleading with you to not give in. He speeds up, each thrust hitting the right spot and oh no, oh no, it feels so fucking good.

“Say my name, little mouse.”

Your core coils tight with stimulation, the spring on the precipice of release with the pressure of his calloused fingers. The ache you had felt up until then is replaced with an immense pleasure that you haven’t felt in, let’s face it, ever. You stand on your toes to give him a better angle. Your hands searched for something to anchor onto. One mindlessly reaches above to grab onto his hair as he licks you, hot breath warming your already flush neck, the other latches onto your ignored breast.

“Say it.”

You bucked against him, almost there, almost there, so very close....

Until he becomes utterly and completely still. 

“No, no. Please, Dabi! I need it. Fuck me, please Dabi!” You sob. 

And with that, you feel a smirk form against your neck. He pulls out of you and before you can so much as whimper, he shoves you back onto a large crate. He grabs one leg and forces it up and over his shoulder as he penetrates you, holding your waist to keep you steady as he pumps in fast and hard. His hip bumps into your overstimulated clit with each thrusts and it nearly obliterates you. In this new position, his cock kisses your cervix and, if you ever had any semblance of control since being pounded into, it has all but disappeared.

“Dabi! I’m going to...Ah, shit, I’m gonna...”

As you begin convulsing, you hear his name, loud, hot and heavy, escape from your lips. Your release sends him over the edge, and he ruts into you. 

Just as quickly, he slides out of you, places himself back into his pants and walks out with his hands in his pockets without a word before the cum can so much as leak out of you. You lay still and let the world refocus before you get up and go home. You come to realize that he didn’t so much as care if you came or not, and that the fact that you had was a happy coincidence on your part. What he was really aiming for was you to scream his name, just as he said you would. How little regard villains had felt about others left you in awe. Can you really go head to head against him or any other villain again? 

You submit your resignation the next day.

And two months later, as you stand wide-eyed and frozen over the test exposing itself to you on the bathroom sink, you can finally confirm that Dabi is, in no way shape or form, a liar.

[jjpmoans]

painting your galaxy | ijb [M]

w.c : 1.7k+

warnings : soft smut, love-making, really, not heavy smut. It’s a first for me too.

a/n : A continuation from the previous painting the galaxy, the fic for @fairygyeom‘s birthday. I wanted to make part 2 of it which has sexual contents so people can choose not to read this one instead of merging both of it together. Also i am glad that @jj-nyoung​ helped me by beta-reading, i laughed at how much grammatical errors were there. Hope yall enjoy reading this! My first ever soft smut.

Your back hits the cold duvet and you shiver just as Jaebeom places you carefully on the bed. He follows, caging your frame with his own as he drops kisses all over your face and presses his lips onto your skin. How you managed to come home safely is questionable, judging by the way Jaebeom had his mind clouded with sexual thoughts all the way home.

You are surprised that he can still function well.

A kiss on your neck, followed by a tongue lapping at a particular jugular vein had your mind back to the man on top of you. His hand wanders aimlessly, trying to feel every crook of you as though he doesn’t have enough. His calloused hand finds your hip, pressing it down to keep you staying still.

Your hand finds his hair, tugging at the black locks after he mouthed your clothed breast and made your nipple harden under the layer of clothes. The sex tonight feels different, far from your usual adventure. By now Jaebeom is supposed to be ripping you out of your clothes because as much as the man is patient with you, he is not in bed.

“Jaebeom.” You manage to squeak a word when he pops the button of your jeans, slipping his hot hand under the tight material. His touches burn you, more than anything when it slides just across your sex and slips further, cupping your now- probably- drenched core.

Jaebeom is still lapping at your skin, he had your shirt bunched slightly higher than your chest. Your breasts however, are spilling out of your bra, courtesy of the impatient Jaebeom, whose open mouth is devouring your now abused skin. “God, princess.” 

“Your nipples are so hard.” He drags a tongue across your taut bud and hollows his cheeks to suck, the pressure stimulating your bundle of nerves and sending shivers to your spine. The blunt tip of your nail scratches his scalp in return, wanting him to stop foreplaying and enter you instantly.

“Jaebeommie.” You whine, making him stop in his track. “Please, inside me. Please?”

Begging should do it. He should bend his will for you, as this is your birthday. He ought to grant you whatever you want.

“Take off your clothes, princess.” At that you shoot up, tugging the materials off you harshly and throwing it aimlessly to the floor. Where they’ll land, you’ll think about it later.

Jaebeom, however, is amused at how fast you comply, even stripping down to nothing in just a few seconds. He never saw you being so needy, but not that he is complaining. Instead he shreds down his own clothes, leaving it as a heap of bundled clothes on the floor.

“So..needy.” he lets his hand graze your thigh, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You know he’s trying to delay it; he wants to take his time. As much as he is impatient, he can also be the most patient person when it comes to sex. “Aren’t you so needy tonight?”

You nod, not even trying to deny it. You are needy, you’ve been excited since you made out while stargazing. It is still an amusement that he didn’t take you right then and there because honestly, he looks like he can.

“Please Jaebeom. Inside me.”

He hums, the pad of his thumb finally finding your throbbing clitoris. One swipe and you jolt as an immediate reaction to his touch. You have learnt that your body is absolutely sensitive to touch when you’re horny, you seem to buckle every time Jaebeom plays with either your nipples or your clitoris. Either way, you have no complaints.

In no time, Jaebeom has you a moaning mess, only by rubbing the pad of his thumb over and over your clit. He keeps his eyes on you, watching you slowly falling apart under his touch.

“So beautiful.” He switches his hand, one hand rubbing and the other slipping a finger inside you, making you throw your head behind. One is not enough. One is just a child play for Jaebeom. “More?”

One becomes two, two becomes three. Tears are forming at the corner of your eyes because of how full you’re feeling down there. Jaebeom just keeps pumping his fingers in and out, repeatedly pressing the spot that makes you cry louder each time.

Jaebeom has a thing watching you becoming a mess for him. To him it feels like an achievement, watching his girl cumming only from his fingers.

“My beautiful princess.” Head thrown and sweat trickling all over your body, you feel like you’re burning. A particular hard thrust though, sends you into a firework of white vision, your legs cramping and your core throbbing violently, clamping on Jaebeom’s fingers. It’s extremely tight but somehow Jaebeom manages to still pump you through the orgasm while swiftly rubbing your clit to calm you down. “Wanna make you cum like this, every day.”

He stands, shredding one last piece of his clothes, hard on springing up to show how hard it has been for him. Slowly he crawls, effectively caging you again while his length rubs your thigh. You feel it twitch upon bumping into some goose bumps that have been painting your skin for a while now.

Jaebeom, being the lover he is, cradles your head after he positions his bulbous head at your entrance.

“Tonight, princess.” You feel him slowly entering you, inch by inch of his hard length penetrates your core. “I’m going to make you feel good.”

Halfway, probably, you don’t know anymore, you sob at the sensation of fullness brought by his dick. He stills, knowing how incredibly tight you can be after your first orgasm. Then when you nod, he reaches for your fingers and locks them together before pushing more of him inside you.

In return, you lol your head to the side, holding your intertwined hands as a support.

“You’re extremely tight, princess.” He catches his breath, a pained look painting his face when you accidentally squeeze him. “Shit.”

“Move.” You said. “Please.”

Jaebeom wastes no time pulling back and slams into you with the intensity of a mad man, right to your pleasure spot. Your mouth forms an ‘o’, clouded by his delicious thrust. You want every day to be your birthday.

He chuckles, pushing your hands up above your head. “I can make love to you like this every day, princess.”

You blush, realising that you unknowingly voiced your thoughts out.

“Tell me how you feel.” Jaebeom’s length, thick and full inside you, keeps plowing in and out without giving you time to think. You wanted to laugh, as if you needed time to think, really. “Does it feel full, baby?”

You nod hurriedly, afraid that he pulls a stunt if you don’t answer instantly. “So big, Jaebeom.”

He laughs, agreeing with what you’ve muttered. “Harder?”

Again you nod, wanting him to break you. “Make love to me, Jae..”

You get a moan as a response and if you squint really hard, you can feel his member twitching inside you. In return, Jaebeom stills and drops his head to your shoulder, obviously affected by your words.

“Say that again.” He pleads.

You, knowing there is no harm saying it again, thread his hair and press a kiss to his lips. “Make love to me, Jae. Make me feel good.”

At that he picks up his speed, which started as a mere push but is now gradually turning harder. At one point your legs are folded and Jaebeom is practically drilling his length into you in full force.

Jaebeom’s hands are everywhere, all over your body, determined to make you cum again.

“So pretty. So so pretty.” He repeats like a mantra, one hand pinching your taut bud. “Feels good, right princess?”

Your mind is everywhere. Each time your walls clench around Jaebeom’s length, a wave of emotion hits you and you’re sent to the clouds. Each thrust is hard and short but manages to hit that spot repeatedly. 

“Yes.” your voice comes out like croak, thanks to the whimpers you’ve been making every time Jaebeom plunges inside you. “Yes, Jaebeom. Yes.”

“Do you know,” Jaebeom’s pained voice alerts you, though you don’t think he’s in pain but he manages to catch your attention which is now actually everywhere. “You’re so unbelievably tight but your juices, fuck, your juices help me move faster.”

An embarrassing moan escapes you and makes you hide your face, you wanted to die from Jaebeom’s crudeness. “Shut up, Jaebeom.”

Giggles, moans and whimpers fill the love-making alternately, accompanied by Jaebeom’s labored breath and the slapping of his hip with yours. Just as you think you are safe, Jaebeom cradles your head again, reaching for your lips and tasting you. 

“I love you.” despite his softness, his pace is wilding, now every thrust is aimed to make you feel stars. Your vision slowly turns blurry, back arched and hands gripping the sheet intensely. “I love you.”

Jaebeom knows that you’re close, your velvety walls are clamping on him therefore he mouths your neck, licking the jenture between your neck and your shoulder.

“Let it go, baby.” he whispers, triggering the sensation you’ve been seeking from the start. In a split second you struggle to lock your eyes with him, involuntarily tipping your head back and finally, you reach the ecstasy zone, blunt nails digging into Jaebeom’s shoulders for support. “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

You sob, your lower region contracts violently despite Jaebeom still thrusting into you to help you ride out your high and to reach his. Your mind is filled with his praises until you feel another euphoria, the sensation of his cum filling you up completely until you feel bloated. 

Jaebeom rests half of his upper body on you, his hands still caging you while he takes his breath. It was a mind-blowing sex, a different one from all of your adventures. 

“I love you.” he says, dropping a kiss on your forehead before groaning out loud after you squeeze his buried length. You giggle in return when he narrows his eyes on you. “You’re turned on because I said I love you?”

He laughs again, nosing your cheeks and drops another kiss. “Well now I know why you’re always ready for me.”

“Oh my god!” you gasp loudly and whack his arm. Trust Jaebeom to be the crudest. “Jaebeom!”

Copyright © 2020 jjpmoans. All rights reserved

[ Writings ]

[captain-yeet]

Heartbreaker (Felix Volturi x Fem!Reader One-Shot)

Request by Anon; Hi could you do an imagine with Felix just leaving people after he sleeps with them and not caring about hurting their feelings? (I can’t stop thinking about it)

Warnings: NSFW themes, abandonment, Fuckboy!Felix

Word Count: 1.78k

Author Notes: Oh god my heart. I’m like, a super emphatic person so when I say I felt this while writing it I FELT THE PAIN

You’d been warned of a vampire’s charm, but that sure didn’t stop you from finding yourself falling for one particular tall muscular vampire, did it?

Despite the warnings from those who knew of how seductive a vampire could be - and warnings from those who knew Felix - you still got wrapped around his finger. Quite happily so. It began with the two of you shooting flirty comebacks at each other, and then that lead to you two getting even more flirty with each other, which lead to hanging out in secret... and then to last night’s events.

You’d slept with him.

He had slept with you.

And it felt amazing. You enjoyed it a lot.

That would have been the most mind-boggling thing about your relationship with him and sure, you still questioned it, but as you stirred back to the land of the living you awoke to just you in the bed.

Alone.

No Felix, but certainly evidence all around you that he was here.

The bedroom looked like it’d been hit by a hurricane with blankets strewn haphazardly across the bed and the floor. Your clothes you’d worn the night before - you couldn’t even call them clothes anymore as they’d been torn. You moved your head and felt something soft shift in your hair. Reaching to pluck whatever it was, your fingers found the stuffing from your pillow had made it’s way to your hair.

 “Shit,” you sighed, closing your eyes and arching your back as you stretched. Your stretch was short lived as you cried out, a pain shooting up your spine from your hip.

You slowly came to a sitting position, breathing heavily as the pain throbbed away. Now more awake, you carefully slid off the bed and made your way to the mirror in the bathroom.

What you found honestly shocked you.

A deep, dark bruise shaped oddly like a hand print bloomed at your left hip, a matching one on the right. The right-sided bruise wasn’t as sore-looking as the one on the left. Guess he really gripped me hard last night, you concluded, frowning as you scanned the rest of your body. You wouldn’t have minded much if you could properly put weight down on your left leg. It felt like the nerves were being pinched.

As your eyes moved up your reflection, tears came. You did not look good. It was as if someone had beaten you to a pulp, with more bruises lining your forearms, your neck and even down at your thighs. Your lips were swollen too.

Breathing becoming erratic, you turned away from the mirror disgusted. “So much for being gentle by vampire standards,” you huffed, wiping away a tear.

You weren’t expecting to wake up looking like this. Sure, you’d heard about the possibility of getting a few bruises but you expected not to wake up to the aftermath alone. 

Where the hell was he? Was this his plan all along? Get close to the gullible human girl, fuck her and leave her? The thought made a little tiny sob bubble it’s way to the surface. Fueled by the panic of waking up sore, bruised and alone, you tried to get your thoughts together.

First step, find some clothes. Make them comfy.

Padding back into your room you rummaged through your drawers for some loose, comfortable clothing. As you shimmied into your sweatpants, more pain shot up your spine.

 “Fuck,” you hissed, letting your body rag doll onto the half-destroyed bed. “I need to call a doctor.”

But how would I explain this? Oh hi doc, yeah I might be injured after having filthy dirty sex with a vampire. That wasn’t going to fly.

At that moment, your phone started buzzing.

Gritting your teeth through the pain, you wriggled over to the end table while still on the mattress and picked up the call. “Hello?” you answered, part of you hoping it would be Felix.

 “Y/N?” came a light, almost sing-song voice.

Ah, Alice.

 “Hey Alice, what’s up?”

 “I had a vision -”

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. “Do you know?”

She sighed. “Yes, I do. Are you okay?”

 “I... no, my body hurts like a bitch,” you confessed. “Like, ‘I need to see a doctor’ bad.”

 “I’ve already told Carlisle -”

 “Alice!” you whined, heat flooding your cheeks. “Why would you tell him?”

 “Because, little breakable Y/N,” she quipped at you with her signature sass, however it was laced with concern, “I saw you in pain and you falling over. You can’t really go to a normal doctor about this, so Carlisle is on his way.”

Curse the tiny psychic and her sound logic. Unable to give a counter-argument, you simply sighed and shook your head. You knew she was right. “Fine, you’ve got me. I’ll wait for Carlisle to show up.”

And so you did. About fifteen minutes after your call with Alice, you let the good doctor into your home. In a way, you felt a little grateful for Alice’s vision; the though of having to explain to Carlisle why you were so banged up embarrassed you. It’s not like you were close to the man - a heat flushed your cheeks at the made-up interaction in your mind. “Hey Carlisle! Oh how did this happen? Well you know how everyone warning me about getting close to Felix of the Volturi? Well I ignored all that and we had sex last night, and now he’s gone without a word and everything hurts and I just want to cry!”

It would have been humiliating.

Luckily for you, Carlisle wasn’t one to judge.

 As he examined your bruises, he met your gaze with concerned golden eyes. “How are you feeling, aside from the soreness Y/N?”

 “I’m feeling...” You struggled to find the correct word. “I guess, upset.”

 “That’s understandable,” Carlisle replied softly, nodding to himself as he averted his eyes back to the task at hand. “I have to ask as a doctor and as the grandfather of a hybrid - did you use protection?”

Blushing would be an understatement for how red your face grew. “Yes.”

 “And Felix? Are you expecting him back any time soon?”

Your heart ached. “No he uh,” you paused, eyes glued to the doctor’s hands, “I don’t know where he is. Pretty sure he just kinda left.”

A pause. “I see.”

An uneasy silence fell over the two of you as Carlisle checked over your injuries. You felt like garbage and that was really the only words you could use to describe your predicament; garbage. Complete and utter garbage. 

A soft hand on your shoulder brought you out of your miserable disassociation. You looked up at the doctor, a sad smile making it’s way to your sore swollen lips. “You all warned me, I’m reaping the consequences.”

The kindness to your surprise, left Carlisle eyes. A hard glare fixated onto your face, boring into your eyes and internally you shrunk under his now hardened gaze. “Do not blame yourself for the actions of an uncaring man, Y/N.”

That glare stuck in your mind for a long time, along with his words. You’d known the doctor to be so kind, a warm presence; never had you seen him look so intimidating. 

Months went by and you thought you’d never see the man you shared a night with again. Until one particularly rainy night.

You were nestled in bed watching a show when you heard the faint clink of your bedroom window opening and shutting, and a large shadow moving in the corner of your room. Fumbling for the remote to pause the show, you began to panic until the shadow stepped into the light.

Low and behold, there was Felix.

 “You know it’s politer to knock right?’ you said haughtily. Irritation of being ghosted for months built up and began to pour out into your words as you glared at the immortal who broke your heart (and nearly your body).

He fixed a collected stare on you, tensed up and angry. “I suspect you have questions, but I’m here on business.”

Swiveling into an upright sitting position, you barked out a bitter laugh. “Questions, he says,” you sneered. “you bet your ass I have some.”

Felix’s cool gaze turn cold, frustrated. “Oh please - don’t tell me you’re still upset over that night a while ago?”

 “Of course I am!” you felt your body move on it’s own accord, moving off the bed and towards the tall man in one swift movement. “I wake up bruised and feeling arguably the worst pain I’ve felt in multiple parts of my body, and where are you? Nowhere to be found.”

 “You knew the risks!” he quipped back, lowering his head down to match your glare. “Forgive me if I didn’t want to stick around for some human’s breakdown over a couple of bruises in bed.”

Once again, your heart shattered at his words. You leaned back, away from him, mouth open. Hot angry tears welled up in your eyes. “Then maybe, just maybe, Felix,” you growled his name as you tried to swallow back your emotions, “try keeping it in your pants if you’re just going to be a giant piece of shit.” All of this could have been avoided for you if you’d just not have toyed with me, asshole.

You didn’t realise you said that last part out loud until you saw his eyes widen angrily; you noted he looked shocked, even.

Felix closed his eyes, a low growl being suppressed in his throat. He turned away from you and began to walk toward the window. “Aro had been contacted by the leader of the Cullens... said I should come by here and mend things with you.”

He spoke in a low, barely controlled voice. You had to strain your hearing just to make out what he was saying. 

 “Some things can’t simply be mended that easily,” you replied sadly, wiping away the wetness on your cheek with the back of your hand. “And I don’t forgive easy. Vampire, human... you’re the last man I’ll let break my heart.”

He nodded to himself. As he reopened the window to climb back out, he half-turned his head to you. “I’m not a man to be tied down right now, Y/N. I haven’t met my mate yet so I’ll continue to fool around with whoever I wish. After all, why not? But for what it’s worth, I... I apologise for the physical pain I caused you with my roughness.”

Before you could even respond, he was gone the next time you blinked, leaving you with high emotions and the sadness of a few months ago rearing it’s head once more.

Tag list: @vamp-army​

[averagespawn]

Wrote a fanfic...might make more and add to it...there is an oc.

The cold…it was so cold.

  Her first memories were in the bleakest part of the year.

 And it was….so, damn, cold.

 The mattress she woke up on was resting on a wooden floor with dirty stone walls. The only noises reaching her were the brisk footsteps.

Her eyes were still blurry, but she could make out figures standing in front of her. Two hefty figures in grey uniforms and two in white coats.

“They…. were…talking? Mumbling? “What were they saying…?” She thought.

One of the figures in a white coat knelt next to her and shined a bright light into her eye, then moving over to the next one. Then got up, said something to the other white coat, and left the room with the others, but not before locking the metal door behind them.

 Her head was pounding, spinning, and doing everything that it was not supposed to do. She struggled just to roll over and get on all fours before collapsing on her stomach. She felt weak, as if heavy weights were strapped to her arms and legs.

She lied there for some time before trying to bring herself up again, using the dusty stone wall to support herself. It was taking a lot of energy just to get on her feet, leaving her winded and aching all over. She held this position for a while before taking one step away from the wall, allowing her to support herself.

“Ich sehe, Sie wach sind,” said a deep, old voice.

She opened her eyes and looked around, vision still a bit blurry, but able to make out details much better. Towards the door it was a figure in a white coat accompanied by a man in a grey uniform, who was armed with a rifle.

“W-what d-did you sss-say?” It was hard to talk as well…. anything other than laying down was difficult to do.

“Ah! Englisch. Vhat I said vas, I—see—that—you—are—avake,” the deep, old voice said slowly, enunciating every word. “Vhy, don’t you rest, hm?” he gestured to the mattress on the floor.

She slowly began lowering herself, collapsing to the mattress once more.

“Are you…avare? Can you talk?”

She was lying face up, resting her hands on her stomach “y-yea, I--think—so.” Her head was still spinning but her vision was becoming less blurry.

“Very good. Now I am going to ask you some basic questions and I vant you to anshure them as accurately as possible, do you understand?” The man in the white coat grabbed a chair and clip board, settling himself against the metal door across from her.

“Uh, sure.”

“Good. First question, vhat is your name?”

“It’s…. uh….um…uhh…….” She paused and widened her eyes, “I don’t……. I don’t…. know.”

“Next question, vhere are you from?” She kept staring towards the ceiling, eyes wide with her hands wringing. “Are you shtill vith me?”

“Oh, um, yeah…what was the question?”

“Vhere are you from?”

She paused again, shutting her eyes tight hoping it would give her an answer, “I…. don’t…..know…” She began to feel her chest tightening.

“Strange. Vhat is today’s date?”

“I don’t know….”

“Hm, are you sure?”

“Y-yeah,” she was still wringing her hands and shutting her eyes tight, as if that was going to bring her memory vacj.

“Last question. Do you know vhere you are?”

“…..No,” she had no hope for her memory.

“How unfortunate,” the man in the white coat writing down on his clipboard.

“C-can I ask some questions?” She asked, pinching her left temple.

The man looked up, cocking an eyebrow up, “I suppose so.”

“What is *your* name?”

“You can address me as, Dr. Maxis.”

“Ok, where are…*you* from?” She was beginning to try to prop herself up and lean against the wall. She made eye contact with her interviewer, an older man who looked to be in his 50’s, bald, with a thick white beard.

“Germany.”

“We’re in Germany?”

“Yes,” Dr. Maxis remained very direct and stiff, with no fluctuations in his voice and little body movement with exception to the occasional writing on his clipboard.

“What is today’s date?”

“October 19, 1945.”

She could not put her finger on it, but that did not seem right, “a-a-are you sure?”

“Vhy vouldn’t I be?”

She gave a small shrug and began thinking of a retort when another man in a white coat came to Dr. Maxis. They both began speaking German to one another, as she began to stand up once more, using one hand on the wall to balance herself.

“You! Young woman! What is that on your ankle?” The other balding gentleman barked at her in a posh British accent.

“Huh?” The woman responded. Before she could react, the balding man pushed her back into the ground and pulled her right trouser leg up. “What the hell are you—!”

“Tätowierung…letters J.V.” the man looked back at Dr. Maxis who sat calmly in his chair. “Do you think she came from a nearby facility?”

Maxis paused and looked at the woman, who was still being pinned by the other man’s hand. “No…it’s far to decorative. Hm, J.V., and I am assuming you do not know vhat that means, do you?” Asked Dr. Maxis.

“I don’t.”

“Vell, it is much easier zhan a serial number, so…” he wrote on his clipboard before continuing “JV is your label from now on, you vill do vell in answering to it,” Maxis said as he placed the chair back out in the hallway along with coaxing the other gentleman out, “it is best you do try to remember, ja?”  Before she could retort, the metal door closed followed by the sound of a heavy lock.

JV felt some relief with them gone, but the noises around her were nerve wracking.

If she listened hard enough, she heard talking, shouting, vehicles, electrical arcs, and the occasional sound of gunfire. It could not have been a prison; it would have been far quieter and more confined. Maybe, it is a laboratory? A factory? A small town of workers? Whatever it was, the environment dealt with electricity, people, and mechanics, and it certainly was not home.

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

“What a goddamn hell hole…heh…” muttered Tank. A large, violent, and intense American marine who breathed rage and patriotism. “I’ve been in worse, much worse….,” this is the 101st time he repeated this sentence to himself today. Given the chance there would be no doubt that he would kill every guard in this building, make it to the northern shore of Germany and swim across the channel to England. No doubt in his iron-clad head he could do it, but until the bars the walls were made from something softer than concrete and the door was not metal, he would have to bide his tim---

           “Halt den Mund!” Shouted the German guard outside of his door.

           “I don’t know what the fuck you just said but……fuck you,” Tank snapped back. He was laying down on his wire bedframe mattress waiting for the next event in his capture to take place. Be it injection, interrogation, or whatever trouble he could stir up with his personal guard. None of it bothered him as it all his escape plan depended on timing, just like his time with the Japanese, though the enemy was more organized here, there certainly were weaknesses.

           “Eez-vahn-nee-*hic*-tihye….Amerikan….helllLLlooOooO, I have …*hic* idea….. do you want to get out of here…heHehH *hic* Heeeh,” the drunk Russian slurred from his adjoined cell room. Tank had the ‘fortune’ of being in a cell connected with a drunk through a ceiling high, barred window.

           “Jesus Christ, for the ump-teenth FUCKING TIME! SHUT IT!!” Tank yelled back, “you wouldn’t even know how to walk down the hallway! Let alone use a rifle!”

“HALT! DEN! MUND! HUND!” the German soldier shouted through the opened viewing window of Tank’s cell door.

           “HeEeEEeeEEEY, t-th-dis-this Russian knows Siberia like back of h-hand,” he said as he stared in his palm “hallway is easy! As for rifle….eh….vwhat was I saying? Eh…fuck it” The Russian began to

           “Riiight,” Tank began throwing small pebbles at the wall from his bed. He found it funny that when he talked to himself the guard would yell, but when someone else started a conversation the guard would not say shit. Go figure. Favorite-having-kraut bastards.  

           “—und zhis is vhere our current speshimens are,” a shrill voice said from down the hall, catching Tank’s attention. “Here ve have a Russian who has been injected vith a modified compound, which SO HAPPENS to be similar to vodka…. complete coincidence, I promise.”

“Showing us off to another gullible group of yours Rich-y-tick? Alright….I’ll play along….” Tank muttered as he got up from his metal cot.

“Zhis is our Japanese man, he does not shpeak much, exshecpt some muttering, but he has proven most USEFUL in our research…shilence is golden after all.”

When the shrill voice reached Tank’s cell, he hid directly underneath the cell door’s viewing window. “Now zhis speshimen is something of a ‘challenge’ so to shpeak. He has a verrry shtrong vill! But zhat is zha best of him.” the shrill German doctor opened the viewing window “Now gentleman if you so like to view the shpeci--.” The doctor paused, whispering a soft, “vhat?”

“Is there a problem Dr. Richtofen?” A man dressed in a grey SS uniform asked.

“Oh, no no, of course not Offizier!” Richtofen was playing it cool but not seeing the American in there was more than a little worrying. “Just one moment, if you please, I vill meet vith you back in zee atrium. Wachen[1], if you could escort zhem please?” As the group began to walk up the stairs, Richtofen ripped open the cell door.

“Gotchya…” Tank breathed. The minute he saw the doctor’s white coat Tank pulled him in, slamming the door behind, leaving only him and the man that has been torturing him for a month in the same room. “A LITTLE TASTE OF YOUR OWN MEDICINE YOU FUCK!!” Tank grabbed the thin doctor’s throat pinning him to the wall with one hand, while landing a solid punch to his stomach.

Richtofen began gagging and wheezing, but not without a wide smile on his face. “You fool!” He began to cackle like a madman, but it was silenced with Tank’s fist to his face, sending him to the ground with a bloody nose. Richtofen remained unmoving but breathing.

“Alright! It’s been some time since I worked out, now…where are the keys?” Tank bent down and began searching the doctor’s pockets, as he moved on from the coat pockets to pants pockets, he felt a sharp, stinging sensation in his arm. Looking back towards Richtofen’s face there was an almost unnaturally large grin.

“Hehehe, nice try American, I appreciate zhat tumble, but it’s time for bed, schweinhund,” with a loud thud Tank fell forward followed by his raucous snoring.

��          Richtofen got up, dusted himself off, licking the blood off his lips and using a handkerchief for the rest if his face.

“Just a little bit more time, heh heh, zhen….zhis vill all be vorth it.”

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

[1] German: guard

[berri-hopefulspouse]

-- Remembering Me --

And I oop. Not gonna be all fancy with the ~Description shit~ this time.

Just know these things;

Ships: Zhongven, Aether x OC/Self insert

TW: Flashbacks, injury, Emotional Neglect Implications, ~Abandonment Issues tm~, Suggestive language, general swearing

Taking a deep breath, dark brown eyes look out over the evening sky. It was quiet, save for the panting breath of a small group, who sat there for a few minutes to gather themselves together and regroup. Another quiet evening along the mountains of Liyue…

This group had been traveling together for a little while, to the point that their hair had started getting a bit overgrown. How annoying. Still, for now until they settled down for a little while, they were keeping their hair tied up a bit, with some help from their friends.

At the head of the group, Aether- determined as he was- glanced back towards the group with a small grin. 

“Caught your breath? Ren, Venti, Zhongli?” 

“Enough to make the jump, yeah. What about you two?” Ren responded, a smile on their features. Still, something about them had seemed off. Had been off most of that day, Aether couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was...and frankly, given their nature, he was afraid to ask. He watched as they turned their expression to Venti and Zhongli, the former sitting on the latter’s shoulders. 

“You act like I can get winded,” Venti joked lightly, “I am Barbatos after all.” 

“Keep making that joke and I won't hesitate to throw you off the cliff myself.” Ren quipped back, tease in their tone but full intention in their voice. Venti only laughs, knowing that they would, but likely won't. 

“I can manage to cross the gap, yes.” Zhongli responded curtly with a small nod. 

“...You do realize you’ll have to put Venti down to use the glider properly, right?” Aether pointed out, although knowing how this would likely go. Sure enough, Venti pouts and clings to Zhongli by the neck. 

“No!” 

“Venti, dear…” Zhongli sighs and takes a step to try and pry the clingy archon off of him, “It's just until we cross the gap. It’s getting late anyway, we’ll likely be setting up camp once we cross the gap.” 

Watching the two bicker lightly back and forth for a few moments, Ren sighs, reaching into their bag to make sure their glider was properly situated. Still, as they went to do so, Aether put a hand on their shoulder. 

“Everything alright?” He figured he’d at least ask, tilting his head to the side. 

“...Yeah, of course, why?” They smiled, again, but it was...fake. He knew that, and he knew they knew it too.

“You just seemed kind’ve distant lately, that's all.” He responded, taking a moment to sit while the couple behind him sorted the situation out. Looking briefly over his shoulder, he saw Venti’s arms were now wound completely around Zhongli’s face, with the latter in question trying to pry him off. But, much like a cat, Venti would only slipped out of his grasp and cling even harder. 

“...Just been thinking, that's all.” They mumbled after a moment, “You mentioned before how you were looking for your sister...And that you were a traveler from a completely different world.” 

“Yeah?” As he spoke, he took out an apple, biting into it quietly. 

“...When I asked you before, you didn't answer my question… But I knew the answer already. When everything is said and done, when this is all over… You’ll likely just leave again. You and your sister. You’ll just up and leave all the people you met here behind. Leave all the lives you changed behind…” They hesitated to continue speaking before sighing, looking down past the cliff, the ground hundreds of feet below, “Leave me behind…” 

Aether couldn't bring himself to really speak. They had brought this up in the past, that was true...and even then, Aether was uncertain of how to respond. Of course, being realistic, the likelihood was that that inevitability was still further down the line- likely months, maybe even a few years in the future depending on his luck. But, even so… It was still an inevitability. 

As he fumbled with his tongue on the words to speak, they gave a melancholy chuckle and shook their head. 

“Still, I get it, I mean!...Big otherworldly guy, you have such a strong destiny ahead of you and I mean...I’m just some guy who happens to have a hydro vision and the patience of a twig.” 

“Ren, you’re not-” 

Ren quickly shook their head, “No, no. It's fine. I’ve known that for practically my whole life…It's something I've grown used to.” 

Aether raised an eyebrow at that, about to question what they meant with that last statement, before they stood up and looked behind them, quickly trying to end the conversation. 

“Hey! Barbatos! Morax!” Well, guess that does end the conversation, at least for now. It seemed that the more Aether tried to talk to them, the more questions he ended up left with. 

The two looked towards the brunette, Zhongli huffing in annoyance. 

“I told you not to call me that.” He mumbled around Venti’s hand, which was clung to his mouth. 

“Have you two sorted out your whole...mess?” They gestured to how Venti was still feverishly clung to Zhongli, his legs now wrapped awkwardly around the taller archon’s torso. 

“Does it look like we have?” Zhongli muttered bluntly, and Ren sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose, walking over to the pair. Aether sighed, following suit. He’ll have to ask at a later point. 

“Venti, it's just for a short while okay?” The brunette looked up to their friend, eyebrows furrowed.

“No!!!” He remained stubborn, pouting and hiding his face into the crevice of Zhongli’s neck. Taking a deep breath to keep their composure together, they wracked their brain for a few moments before pursing their lips in a meek attempt to not start smirking. 

“You know, once we set up camp on the other side of the cliff, me and Aether will likely go to sleep right away...Leaving you two to do whatever you want, really…” They rose an eyebrow at that, cheekily chuckling, “Cuddling, kissing...etcetera.”

At the mention of possible etcetera, Venti practically sprung off of Zhongli, a cheeky and mischievous grin on his face.

“Well, why didn't you say so earlier? Let's go!” 

“Leave it to Venti to be swayed by the promise of draconian dick.” Ren shook their head with a laugh, Venti chuckling as well as the two headed to the cliff. Zhongli only flustered in response, and rather than saying anything at all in response to the antics, simply covered his mouth with a gloved hand and followed the two in tow. Ren snickered noting to themselves how his face was dusted in a light shade of pink.

Aether couldn’t help but chuckle, deciding not to think much of the statement at this point. As far as he knew, Ren had been best friends with Venti since before he met them- so it wasn’t much of a surprise that they knew what would kick the poetic Archon along. 

Now that they were all ready to head out though, the group couldn’t help but grin. Gliding was usually a fun experience for them, bringing memories of goofy accidents and bittersweet promises. Sure, it was just to cross over from one giant mountain to the next; but it was still a moment to be shared only by them- that was for certain.

Zhongli took off first, somewhat hesitant on leaving the ground as he usually was- but as he sprinted and leapt off the cliff, the subtle little click of the glider unfolded- dark brown wings unfolding from the depths of his bag. 

Venti followed in tow, almost as easily as breathing. Simply meandering off the cliff himself, his braided pigtails glowed as the lightest puff of what remained of his archon powers sent him a bit higher into the air, bright teal glider wings fluttering out behind him as he soared up and over.

Ren was next in tow, taking a moment or so to calm their nerves and just focus on gliding rather than the anxiety of falling that has had them gripped since they had awoken in Mondstadt all those months ago. Still, being cheeky, they looked back to Aether with a still-fake smirk, leaping behind them off the cliff before their glider clicked to life, a soft darker blue set of wings from their glider popping out. 

Aether, being the leader of the party, usually went last- mostly so he could keep an eye on everyone else and keep any incidents from happening. He shook his head with a laugh at his friend’s antics, a sheepish little blush coating his face for a few moments before calming himself down and resolving to leap off the cliff himself, a mishmash of light brown and soft teal wings from his own glider catching his fall. 

In the air, it was mostly silent. Silent save for the quiet chirps of wildlife around them- mostly birds in the air- and the wisp of wind all around them as they slowly started to make their way across the gap. Ahead of them, Ren watched Venti quietly staring at Zhongli- mainly his ass- from behind the taller Liyue Archon. Glancing slightly over their shoulder, Aether looked lost in thought, but stared straight on ahead towards his destination- determined as he always was. 

Looking back ahead of them, Ren couldn’t help but think about the conversation they were having earlier with Aether. Truth was, they couldn’t be feeling worse. They cared about him, a lot, and they cared about the relationships they made. But, like always, it seemed that they were destined to be left behind while the people around them accomplished things they never could. 

‘Like always.’ 

That phrase bounced around in their head idly, and they couldn’t help but furrow their eyebrows in confusion. 

There was a lot they didn’t remember- in fact as far as they’re concerned, they don’t remember the life they had before waking up in Mondstadt. Venti was their first friend, even if he had a few commitment issues. But that feeling….that fear of being abandoned, even without their memories- it lingered and festered deep within them.

...For the life of them, they couldn’t remember why.

And a part of them wondered if they even wanted to know. 

Yet, that phrase kept bouncing around in their mind. Like a ping pong ball, or a slime repeatedly attacking, it kept repeating. It felt like they knew why, it felt like there was a scratching at the back of their head. A flickering. A flickering feeling, a flickering thought… 

A flickering...memory?

‘She’ll never come around.’

A voice. It was familiar. Very familiar. It was...their own. 

‘She just hurts me...leaves me...she left me behind so she could be with him. How could she do that to her own daughter?’

In one blink, they were still flying alongside their party. In the next, it was dark...it was raining. Occasionally, shots of lightning lit up the sky, and the sound of rain was only as loud as the thoughts that had prattled around their head. The rain that hit their cheek was just as cold, as the tears that fell from their cheeks were warm- leaving them clammy. Both from the chill, and the anxiety that had their hands shading around their makeshift glider. The same one they had haphazardly handmade specifically for this reason. To get away. To run. To be free, finally. 

Their heart kept pounding out of their chest...it took a few days, but they barely slept. They barely stopped to eat. They just kept running. They didn’t know if their family would do a search for them, and frankly they just wanted to get as far away from them as possible. 

Not to mention, there was the stinging sensation of cuts and bruises along their body... Even during their escape, they had run into plenty of goons and monsters. Most of their equipment aside from their glider was stolen...they just had to keep running. They had to get somewhere safe.

‘I have to keep moving. I have to keep going. I can’t stop running, I can’t give in to everything yet, I can’t-’ 

Their thoughts were still running a mile a minute, have been since they had run off on their parents all those days ago. There was a faint hum of their thoughts, what they could only assume was the reason behind their escape, but it was just out of reach of their present-day self.

The makeshift glider was struggling. Made out of various shabby materials, and you had to grab onto the handles on the sides to keep from falling. It shook in the wind, threatening to fall apart, as lightning once more shot across the sky, bright and angry.

A face came into their thoughts. Dark brown hair, that cascaded down past her shoulders- and a cold...almost calculated stare of bright blue eyes.

A shudder wracks through their body. Landing for a brief moment, they didn’t know exactly which way they were going, or even if the direction was correct. They had just been hopping between mountain points for the past few hours. They felt so cold though, between lethargy and malnutrition, not to mention dehydration. All of that, faced with the cold winds of a storm overhead. 

However, their thoughts were interrupted by a feeling, almost like static, like the air was heating up around them-!

Before they could think twice to move, lightning shot up from the ground below them, striking them straight through the makeshift glider and splicing it clean in two. A screech of pain wracks through their body, all before starting to plummet unforgivingly towards the ground below.

Their vision spotted, unconsciousness starting to creep in towards them...and for some reason, there was a sense of acceptance in the deepest parts of their mind. They did everything they could...would it really be a shame for someone like them to really meet their end this way?...At the very least, it would be out of everyone else’s way…

But, right before their consciousness slipped away, they saw, just out of the corner of their vision, a bright teal burst of wind- and a blur quickly reaching out to catch them before they met the ground-

“Soren!”

They snapped out of their thoughts- their memories- long enough to realize what happened….the shock of the memory had shut off their glider, sending them plummeting down again. Venti was the one who shouted after them, the party quickly flying down after them to try and catch them before they gave themselves a concussion.

Eyes widening as their situation dawned upon them, they turned and reached around trying to unlock their glider once again, but despite the subtle clicks of their bag- nothing happened. Was the damn thing stuck?!

Swearing to themselves in a low tongue, they did small somersaults in the air as they tried to wrestle their bag off of them to fix their glider. However, the more time that was passing, the faster they were falling, and the faster they were coming closer to likely getting themselves killed. 

Aether’s eyes widened when he seemed to realize none of them would be able to catch them quick enough. Thinking on the spot, he looked to Venti and Zhongli before forming a quick idea.

“Venti, the bushes!” He called out to the anemo archon, and after a moment of thought, Venti nodded in agreement, gliding down a bit more and with a twist of his hand- yanking a flurry of leaves and bushes over where they’d likely meet their impact. 

Despite all of that, their heart rate was quickening and they couldn’t breathe, they just had to focus and- and-!

Squeezing their eyes tight, their brain had resolved to just shut off in the face of their fear and anxieties being too much for them to handle, curling into a ball around their bag as they- unconscious- thunked into the bush Venti had yanked over.

Fluttering back down to the ground, Aether put his hands on his knees with an exhausted little sigh. He didn’t know what happened, one moment they were in front of them, and in the next they were falling- expression blank as if they were completely lost in thought. Venti and Zhongli landed in tow, as Aether pulled himself together and walked over to the bundle of leaves where they were laid. 

Taking off a glove, he put a hand to their wrist. They were alive, thankfully. Their pulse was racing though, likely a result of panic. Giving a quiet sigh of relief, he looks back to Venti and Zhongli.

“They should be fine… they seemed to just black out. They might have a minor head wound, and be suffering from shock, but they’ll live.” He said to the two Archons, “Guess we’ll be setting up camp down here tonight.”

Nodding to themselves, the group was strangely quiet, as they went about laying down camp for the night.

➽───────────────❥

...Ugh.

Their head hurt.

It hurt a lot. 

Taking a slow breath, their eyes slowly opened as their eyebrows furrowed, vision hazy as their world came back into view. What happened? Where were they now? Several questions were just mindlessly playing in their mind, but it all faded to white noise as they slowly tried to sit up.

“Whoa, hey,” Aether’s voice immediately caught their attention, eyes shifting to the front of a tent where he stood, “Be careful there...you took quite a bad fall. You’re lucky you’ve got two anemo users on your side.” 

Ren just groaned as the memories came flashing back- both the memory they had recalled earlier...and the, frankly, embarrassing display that happened after.

“Fuck me, I’m so sorry about that. I don’t know what happened, I just-”

Aether shook his head, “None of that. It doesn’t matter what happened or how, all that matters is that you’re alright. Just...get some rest, okay? I made some food for everyone to eat for the night, I’ll bring some in for you.”

“No, you don’t need to go through all that trouble-” Ren protested, trying to get to their feet but only pausing as Aether put a gloved hand over their mouth. 

“Let us take care of you for once, okay? You always are telling us when we need to take a break and to not overexert ourselves, so it’d be hypocritical not to show that same kindness to yourself.” He spoke sternly, soft amber eyes staring directly at them. Despite the situation, they found their face dusted in a galactic blush.

“...O-Okay,” They mumbled around his glove, and he smiled and sighed, letting his arm drop.

“If you need anything, let me know okay?” Aether gave a gentle nod to them, “I’ll be in to sleep a little while later.”

As he walked back out of the tent, Ren simply laid back down, staring at the soft browns of the tent and the sky outside its flaps. It looked like it was night now, so no doubt quite some time passed between then and now. There were so many thoughts just trying to rattle around in their head...that night.. That was only a few short days before they woke up in Mondstadt, that they knew for certain. 

Still, the more they tried to focus on that memory and process it, the more they just found themselves thinking of Aether and flustering up all over again. Damnit all, why must he be so fucking cute! They huffed in annoyance and lightly bit at their hand, growling under their breath as they tried to focus on anything else other than how pretty his soft amber eyes were…

They don’t know how much time passed, but soon enough Aether came back into the tent with two plates, Paimon holding a couple cups herself.

“Hey! Hope you weren’t waiting too long,” Aether spoke as he sat down next to them. Ren’s eyes widened in confusion in realizing he brought both a plate for them, and for himself.

“Aren’t you going to go eat with the others?” They asked, managing to sit back up. There was a dull ache in their spine, but it was nothing that some rest wouldn’t heal.

“For one thing, Venti and Zhongli ate earlier. For another, I feel like if I...well, ‘interrupted’ right now, I wouldn’t hear the end of it from Venti.” Aether explained, a nervous flush across his face. Ren had to forcibly swallow the quiet squeal.

“Pfft-” They giggled, “Okay, that sounds about right.”  

“Besides,” As Paimon set down the two drinks, she winked to Aether who spoke as she floated back out to go to her own separate smaller tent- preferring her privacy, “I like spending time with you...you know?” 

“Archons, you’re fucking adorable,” The words slipped aimlessly past their lips without much hesitation. Only to blush even further and put a hand over their mouth. 

Silence took over the tent for a few moments as Aether stared at them in shock, blushing to the tips of his ears. 

Ren just nervously coughed into their arm and looked away, scratching the back of their head.

“A-anyway!! Let’s eat.” Ren quickly dismissed, grabbing the cup and bringing it to their mouth. All before Aether put an arm around their shoulder and yanked them close to his side. After blushing even more for a few quiet moments, they quietly gave a silent smile.

...Sure, things were complicated right now, between Aether’s destiny and their own abandonment issues but...for now, they didn’t have to think about it right then. 

For now, they just appreciated being alive...and being allowed to be around him. Being in his arms like this, even for just a little while. So for now...they’d just eat in a pleasant silence, occasionally blushing and giggling as they looked to each other.

Tomorrow was another day...and with it, another day full of adventure. In the end, that’s all this was. Life was their adventure.

[a-bugz-life]

Fuckin’ Amphibians || Anita & Nicodemus

TIMING: A few days ago. PARTIES: @professoranieves and @bountybossier SUMMARY: Anita and Nic are both out in the forest when they run across some Ballogbogs. Things get a bit psychedelic. 

Anita had lived in White Crest for almost five years now. When she first arrived, she knew of a handful of supernatural beings, but her worldview expanded exponentially even within the first few months of living here. It didn’t hurt that she spent a lot of her time in the woods, mostly for the bugs partially for the isolation. But even in her years of experience, she apparently still had more to learn. In her exploring, she found herself near a small pond out in the forest. Perfect place for some interesting breeds of bugs. But then she saw them, very large and very gross looking toads. She didn’t think much of it, toads love bugs too. But as she drew closer to the pond she noticed one of the toads puff up, and then shoot something at her. “Shit, shit…” She groaned, as she tried to run before it hit her. But she wasn’t so successful. Initially she didn’t feel much of anything, and thought for a second maybe she was immune to whatever this was. But then the leaves on the trees began turning pink? And the ground began to slowly melt under her feet? No, something wasn’t quite right.

The place farthest away from the lake was the woods on damn near the other side of town. In between trying to figure out any thing that might help deal with the fucking squid, Nicodemus went about business as usual. Took up a job and saw it to completion. Traditionally, he wasn’t picky about jobs that demanded a bounty dead or alive. He took whichever. But lately, he wasn’t in the mind for killing. Just a catch and release to the shadow paying him. The task of catching a handful of fatflitters was just mundane enough that he didn’t expect to be bothered too much. The hunter tapped his fingers against his thumb as he walked, a small perforated cage in his other hand. The things were quick and liked their fatty tissue, so it was just a matter of finding the right tracks of a larger creature and hoping the quick shits were on it. The croak of toads sounded loudly to his left and he briefly looked over in that direction. Over the sound of toads, a voice. A voice that sounded a hell of a lot more bothered than he did. The hunter considered just keeping on the way he was and even as he did, he was already heading over to the noise. As he drew closer and his night vision made out the shape of a person, he looked over at the pond. Oh hell. Fucking ballybogs. They didn’t like when anyone got too close to their little domains. And it looked like the stranger had found that out. He cleared his throat to try and get her attention. “You, uh, you good?”

For a split second Anita thought she saw a person approaching, but it quickly became clear to her that this was no person, but rather a very tall and mobile ice cream cone. Interesting. It was rocky road, which wasn’t her favorite flavor. No pun intended but she really wasn’t a fan of nuts. But then the strangest thing happened, the ice cream spoke to her? No that couldn’t be. She slowly got closer to it, trying to figure out if maybe someone was just standing behind it? But no, just one singular cone of ice. “You can talk?” She asked, the disbelief thick in her voice. She sat down on the ground in front of the ice cream and dropped her head into her hands. “This ice cream cannot talk to me. This ice cream cannot talk to me.” She whispered, then rubbed her eyes and looked back up. “Fuck.” It was still an ice cream cone.

She was looking at him like she wasn’t really seeing him. Nicodemus squinted. Ballybogs made homes out of the swamps he grew up in and he had seen people when they got hit by their shit. Woodstock had nothing on what ballybog crap could do to a person. Once, a few years ago, not even he had escaped it and he was stuck trying to hop into the Mystery Machine that had just been a hollow log. The shame of that still haunted him sometimes. Fucking Scrappy Doo. “Yeah, I can talk,” he answered with a sigh. Damn it. He just wanted to find some damn fatflitters. Not this mess. When she sat down, he stepped back and put a hand on his hip. Oh hell. “This, uh, ice cream is fuckin’ talking to you. That’s me, one big damn waffle cone.” Alright, so she was seeing him as an ice cream cone. Maybe she wouldn’t feel like attacking him. He glanced down at her. “And I might be able to waffle us the fuck outta here.”

Anita was shocked when the guy? Yeah, sounded like a guy, seemed to respond to her delusions … and knew that he was a waffle cone? Anita stood up, eyeing the frosty treat with delicate suspicion. But it was almost as though the moment that he acknowledged that he was in fact a waffle cone, things began to shift. Anita began to hear odd voices coming from all around her in the forest. They weren’t speaking any language she understood, but something told her they were not nice voices. Suddenly, the nice ice cream cone began to melt, causing large puddles of melted chocolate ice cream. “Oh no.. oh my god… here let me help.” Anita tried to scoop up the puddles of ice cream and put it all back into the cone. “We can’t get out of here until I fix you… I can’t just leave you here for them to get you.”

Her eyes, large and confused, were directly on him and Nicodemus couldn’t help but feel a little scrutinized. Waffle cone or not. Jesus, he was starting to refer to himself as a waffle cone. Maybe he had been hit too. When she started to try and put dead leaves, plus bits of grass on him, he decidedly was not feeling like a waffle cone. “Alright, no need to go and do that,” he asserted as he took a step back. “Think you’re the one needin’ help here.” Surely someone else would come along and help. People in town had a habit of running headlong into shit every day. As he waited for a beat, a ballybog croak answered him. Fuck. He was the person that had run headlong into shit. And she had too. “Let’s get the hell on outta here, huh? I think somethin’ nearby is causin’ me to--fuckin’ Christ--melt my ice creamy bits all over the place.” He winced and shook his head. He was a hunter, for fucks sake. With a reserved expression, he offered a weathered hand. “Name’s Nic, alright? Let’s get on away from the fuckin’ acid trip frogs.”

Anita had been ignoring his claim that he didn’t need help getting all of the ice cream back into his cone, largely because that was just insane? Why wouldn’t a giant cone of ice cream want all of it’s contents securely inside of itself before running off? But then he finally offered a real reason. He was melting because of something nearby! Of course! Quickly, she stood up and stopped scooping up the ice cream melted in giant sticky puddles on the ground around them. Anita reached out to take the cone’s hand, finding it a bit odd that he had hands to begin with. “Nic the Ice Cream Man.” She repeated, clearly making up those last three words herself. His comment about frogs threw her for a loop. She had heard stories about supernatural frogs. As she was just about to open her mouth and say something, she saw all of the ice cream quickly melt away from Nic and the cone break off into a million tiny pieces. That’s when she realized that he really wasn’t an ice cream man… he had been a giant toad in disguise all along. She let out a soft scream, then quickly pulled her hand away from him. “You! You’re the acid trip frog!” Without paying much attention to where she was going, she began to slowly back away from him.

Nicodemus breathed in sharply through his nose, thankful as hell that she had stopped trying to help get his ice cream back together. Jesus, he was already in too deep with the ice cream bit. It was too much and he can feel a nerve pulsing somewhere near his temple. He shook her hand a bit stiffly. “Just, uh, Nic works,” he said. “The...Ice Cream Man is my father?” Whoever the hell that was. He had never met the poor bastard. And just when it had all been going so well, she looked at him like he was coming apart at the seams. Hell, he just might have been. Ballybogs spat serious shit and she had been hit with it. His hand clenched by his side before it came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. She was backpedaling towards the ballybogs again and he could see the damn things puffing up. He moved toward her and attempted to act as a buffer between. Like a dumbass would. “No. Nope, I’m not the acid trip fr--Oh fuck.” The ballybogs spat and Nicodemus blocked his hand with his face. He blinked twice, squeezed them shut, then opened his eyes to see his hands melting. His ice creamy hands with weirdly frog-like fingers but hey, he had been born with those. He stared at them for what felt like a century. “I...I think I am the ice cream frog,” he said as he looked at her. “And we gotta get out of my fuckin’ swamp.”

As the giant ice cream began to move towards Anita, she began to panic. How was she going to get out of here? She didn’t even know where here was anymore. Had she hiked here? Was her car nearby? Could she even drive like this? Unlikely. She heard a faint noise from beside her and while it took her a moment to place it, she eventually recognized it. Amphibians. And this ice cream frog was likely their king. Of course the dumb fucking amphibians still had a monarcy system. Reptiles had evolved beyond that need of hierarchy. “If you’re the ice cream frog… can’t you just make them stop! They’ll listen to you. Amphibians are really dumb.”

“Reckon they want us to move away from the party we weren’t invited to,” Nicodemus said as if it were obvious and it was. He could understand them. He splayed his hands out to his side, ice cream and all, in a sign of submission. They could respect that. “Partners. Fellas. We’re just gonna hit the, uh, old dusty trail now as it were. Didn’t mean to bother you fine folks this evenin’.” He made a sound as close to a frog as he could before he turned on his heel and took to walking away. He turned his head toward the stranger and spoke in a stage whisper. “They might not be bright but they like bein’ respected. Let’s just go on elsewhere.”

Anita watched the frog’s leader try to talk them down, finding the level of kindness he was showing them to be more than a bit annoying. In fact she might have rolled her eyes at his big performance, or maybe she just thought about rolling her eyes and actually didn’t move at all? It was really hard to tell. So she tried again, feeling pretty confident that she did this time roll her eyes and not just roll her head around in a circular motion. “Of course they’re not bright,” Anita quickly replied, not bothering to follow suit and speak in a whisper. “Why would I want to go anywhere with you? You’re like their leader or something stupid.” Despite her resistance, Anita followed this strange somewhat suave smooth-speaking ice cream man. At least wherever he was going was away from here, and away from those fucking frogs.

[goalcaufield]

hold me - spencer knight TRIGGER WARNING: this fic deals with domestic/relationship abuse, physical and verbal abuse. in no way am i romanticizing abuse in any way, shape, or form.  if this will trigger you, DO NOT READ. keep in mind, barrett is a fictional character i have made up for the sake of this story.  word count: 3602

________

with a shaking hand you dab at the concealer under your eye, trying desperately to spread the remaining makeup to cover the dark blue and purple that had become visible. “y/n, you almost ready?” you hear your best friend, jacey, yell from the other side of the door.

“one second!” you yell back, voice shaky. you curse to yourself, but you know the bruise had been covered up as much as it could be. you weren’t able to grab your concealer tube before barrett was yelling at you that you had to leave - and you weren’t willing to take another chance tonight.

with one final look in the mirror you force yourself to smile. a smile that’s good enough to convince everyone around you, but you were the one that could see right through the mask you managed to put on every single day. your smile falters.

how the hell did you manage to get into this situation? you’ve been asking yourself that every day since everything had started to go downhill.

you shake your head slightly and grin from ear to ear, turning to throw open the door to see your best friend. “what are you waiting for? let’s go!” you grab jacey’s hand and pull her back out to the living room, where the music is blaring. you jump right into the crowd dancing to what ever travis scott song was being played.

for the first time of the night, barrett wasn’t on your mind. you were focused in the moment, on having fun with jacey, finding some of your other friends you’ve made around campus. you catch eyes with spencer and he grins at you, giving you a chin nod, in which your smile grows and you wave. for a second, spencer’s eyes squint at you, but you shake it off and tear your eyes away from him.

“y/n, i’m gon-” jacey starts to yell over the bass of the music, but she cuts herself off looking over your shoulder. you’re about to tell her to keep going, but a hand on your lower back makes you tense up. 

of course it’s barrett. his cologne was identifiable from a mile away. it could make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “where were you baby? you were gone for a while,” barrett coos in your ear, hands going around to press against your churning stomach. you can feel your heart begin to race, but inside you know barrett would never do something in a public setting like this. he would save it for when you got back to your dorm.

“i was, uh.” and suddenly you can’t think straight. you’re stumbling over your words, which will only get you in more trouble later tonight. “i was just in the bathroom, that’s all.”

barrett hums, and it’s enough for the taste in your mouth to turn sour. you catch eyes with spencer, and if you didn’t know any better you would think he never even looked away from you in the first place - and maybe that’s the case. but it’s not like you would know that or not. spencer jabs his best friend, trevor, in the side with his elbow, and trevor’s eyes travel to meet your eyes. 

spencer was one of your best friends. you weren’t able to see him all too much due to his grueling hockey schedule, but you knew he was always there. it was the type of relationship where, even if you hadn’t talked in weeks, you could start talking again and pick up right where you left off. spencer knew in this moment, and the look in your eyes, something was wrong.

barrett is saying something, but you’re too focused on praying that the pleading look in your eyes was enough to get the boys to realize. whatever barrett is saying? it’s going in one ear and out the other completely.

“y/n,” barrett hisses, his thumb and pointer finger meeting as he pinches the exposed skin on your waist. you whimper, but turn around quickly in his arms to face him. “did you hear a thing i just said?” 

“no, i’m sorry. i just zoned out,” you mumble. barrett heaves out an angry sigh, his eyes rolling and glancing over your shoulder.

“those guys won’t stop staring at you. i told you you shouldn't have worn this top,” he grumbles, shrugging his flannel off his shoulders leaving him in his jeans and white t-shirt. you hesitantly take it from him and put it on, buttoning it up all the way. you knew he was talking about trevor and spencer - all the other guys here either had other girls to focus on or they knew how possessive he was when it came to you. they wouldn’t mess with him.

“i’m sorry.” you can’t even meet his eyes. they’re focused on the staircase behind him, because to be frank, you were too scared to actually look at him. “won’t happen again.”

barrett rolls his eyes, “damn right it won’t. go grab me a beer?”

you nod, pulling away from him and heading towards the kitchen where all the alcoholic beverages were fully stocked. jacey had wandered off, she hated barrett with a burning passion. she didn’t know what was going on - no one did - she just hated him because of stupid fights you had gotten into. she thought he didn’t deserve you. and she was right.

you grab a can of bud light from the cooler that was on the ground, and right when you come up you feel a liquid splash all over your face. your eyes go wide, but you’re met with logan, trevor’s girlfriend. trevor and spencer are standing right beside her.

“y/n/n, i’m so sorry!” logan exclaims with wide eyes. she grabs napkins and, before you can object, she starts to dab on your face to dry it off. taking your concealer off with it.

logan’s shoulders drop and her face falls, along with her mouth. spencer and trevor mirror her exact expression.

“y/n, what - what happened to your face?” spencer asks, stepping forward abruptly making you flinch back. he looks defeated when you do that. but his gaze travels behind you, and the dejected look on his face turns to pissed off real quick. and you know exactly who’s there. “did you do this?”

you whip around, and sure enough, there’s barrett. his eyes are glued to you. he could care less that spencer looks like a bull who’s just seen red - he’s livid. at you. and suddenly the thought of him not doing anything in a public setting? that mentality is fading. and fast.

you feel a soft hand grab yours, and before you can shy away, logan is pulling you back behind spencer and so you’re standing in between trevor and her. “you are unbelievable, y/n! how could you be so stupid?” barrett scoffs, attempting to step past spencer who just moves right with him. “come on, we’re going back to my dorm.”

“the hell you are,” spencer chuckles, turning to face you, logan, and trevor. “can one of you take her back to one of your dorms? or mine? matt should let you in.”

without another word from the two of them, trevor places his hand lightly on the middle of your back.. your breathing is heavy, and suddenly you’re wishing that you stayed back in your dorm like you had originally planned for the night.

“y/n! you better not go with them, we’re not done here!” you hear barrett yelling. you look over your shoulder at him and spencer’s got both of his hands on barrett’s shoulders to prevent him from chasing after you.

everything is in slow motion. you have no clue what spencer is yelling right back at barrett, but you watch as spencer shoves him back into the refrigerator door and barrett’s head jerk to the side as spencer lays the first punch. everything feels like you’re underwater, from water logged ears to blurred vision. 

logan and trevor manage to get you into trevor’s car. logan slides into the backseat next to you, and silently she presses her hand to your head to lay it down on your shoulder. you look in the driver’s mirror and trevor is already looking at you, a defeated look on his face. you give him a tight lipped smile and let your eyes close on the short ride to the dorms.

“y/n, y/n,” you hear logan whispering softly. your eyes flutter open, and you’re outside of logan’s dorm building. “we figured you’d be more comfortable here tonight.”

“thank you, log,” you mumble. she leaves the backseat door open and you slide out. 

the three of you are both quiet as logan unlocks the side door to her dormitory building. you follow the two of them up to logan’s dorm room, where she luckily has a single room all to herself. you plop down on the couch in the corner of the room and the two of them look at you in sorrow.

“please don’t pity me,” you say, looking back and forth between the two of them. logan sighs and she sits down next to you.

“i know it isn’t exactly easy to tell someone, but y/n, you could’ve told me. or jacey. or trev, or spence,” logan sighs and you shrug your shoulders. “but, you just didn’t want to make him mad, did you?”

you nod your head lightly, eyes trained on the tiled floor. “he got mad so easily, if he found out… i just, i don’t know. he scared me, a lot.”

the two of them don’t know what to say, until trevor breaks the silence once more. “well you’re staying the night here. obviously logan doesn’t mind.”

“not at all,” logan says quickly and you smile softly at her. “y/n, how long has this been going on?”

you hesitate, pulling the blanket logan handed to you up to your chin. “just a month or two,” you mumble, playing with the strings that hang off your ripped jeans. “i dunno, i guess it was more so verbal than anything for a while.”

there’s a knock on the door, and immediately your head snaps over in that direction, heart racing at the idea that it could possibly be barrett. “it’s just spence. i texted him to come over if that’s okay with you, y/n/n.” trevor says quickly, which eases some of your nerves.

“yeah, it’s okay,” you say and trevor walks over to open the door. 

“holy shit, what happened to you, knighter?” trevor asks, stepping aside so spencer can step into the room. sure enough, spencer’s got a few light bruises on his face along with a cut along his lip. he has a hard look on his face, but the second he sees you with the blanket pulled up to your body his expression is softening. you slowly stand up, your mouth dropping open at the sight of spencer’s face.

“did he do this to you?” 

“not important,” spencer grumbles, closing the door behind him as he walks in. “how are you doing, y/n/n?” 

you shrug, “could be better,” you chuckle to try and lighten the mood slightly. it doesn’t work. “guys, i’m alright.” 

spencer steps forward to wrap his arms around you, but you flinch away from him. immediately you regret doing so, the look of hurt on spencer’s face tugging at your heart strings. “y/n, i would never hurt you.” he whispers, arms falling to his sides in defeat.

instantly, you’re diving forward to wrap your arms around spencer. because if there was anyone that would be able to make you feel better, it would be spencer. you heave out a sigh resting your head against his chest, and you can feel him hesitate before tightening his hold on you. 

“spence, i wanna go home,” you mumble into his chest. spencer’s hands go up to your cheeks and softly pull you away from his chest. 

“y/n/n, there’s no way you’re going back to your dorm right now. not until we get this under control. i think it’s best if you just stay here for the night with logan.” your eyes begin to water and spencer presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “you’re going to be okay, i promise. trevor’s dorm is right around the corner and i’m only a five minute drive away from here if you need anything.”

your lip is still quivering by the time he’s finished, and he sighs. “can we just go back to your dorm or something? he’d be so stupid if he ended up going there, so he wouldn’t. your dorm is the best bet, spencey. i’d feel most safe there.”

“okay, okay. we can go to my dorm if that’s what you really want,” he says, brushing away the hair from your face as you nod your head. 

“so you’re gonna go back to spencer’s?” logan asks and you nod. she smiles. “okay, i get that. i know trevor wouldn’t be much protection staying here anyway.” she jibs at trevor who rolls his eyes and you manage to crack a smile.

“do you wanna head out now?” spencer asks and you nod against his chest. “okay guys, we’re gonna head out now if that’s okay with you two.”

“of course. text us if you need anything y/n,” trevor says and you nod. spencer leads you out of the dorm room and the two of you walk in a comfortable silence down to the street where spencer had parked. 

you can tell spencer wants to say something to you, but both of you know if he doesn’t it’s for the better. spencer was the only one you were willing to actually talk to about this. you had known him since you were just ten years old, spencer meant everything to you and then some. but you knew it killed him knowing this was going on and he had no idea and that you hadn’t told him.

“you’re okay, right?” spencer asks quietly as the two of you walk together in the dark night. you’re walking closer to him than you normally would, but due to recent events and the fact barrett could be anywhere, next to spencer is the one place you want to be.

“i will be,” you whisper right back to him and out of the corner of your eye you watch as he nods. the two of you get to spencer’s car and you slide into the passenger's seat while he slides into the driver’s.

the drive back to the boston college dorms is rather short, just like spencer promised and just what you had already known. spencer unlocks the door for you and you’re headed right up to his dorm. 

“matt’s staying over at drew’s for the night. so you don’t have to worry about him at all,” spencer says and you nod as he opens up the door to his room. sure enough, the dorm is empty. “make yourself at home, y/n/n.”

you sit down on spencer’s bed, the familiar smell of his cologne filling your senses. he had used the same one for as long as he first started wearing it, and by now it was a comforting smell. because spencer was there.

“hey,” spencer mumbles as he rummages through some of his clothes drawers. “here’s something better for you to wear than that.” he gestures towards the flannel you still have on your body, and he hands you one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. “i’m just gonna go to the bathroom. let me know when you’re dressed. feel free to make yourself at home, y/n.”

“okay, thank you, spence,” you say and spencer offers you a smile before disappearing into the bathroom connected to his dorm room.

you slowly strip your clothes, starting with unbuttoning the flannel barrett had given you to cover up. you fold that and place it on the chair from spencer’s desk, moving to take off your jeans and top. you stand in front of the mirror, the bruises on your legs fully exposed and the ones on your stomach and sides still covered by makeup. you sigh, reaching over to grab your clutch where you had a travel sized makeup wipe packet. you begin to rub at your stomach, uncovering the bruises that had been laid there either a few days ago or only a few hours ago. then you work on your face, wincing when you realized how bad the bruise around your eye had gotten. after a few minutes, all the bruises that lingered your skin were fully uncovered for spencer to be able to see.

you slip on the clothes spencer had given you: an old darien lacrosse shirt from back when you guys were around thirteen and the pair of boxers, which even though you hated to admit, they were pretty comfortable.

“spence,” you call out. “you can come out now.”

spencer emerges from the bathroom and you brush past him quickly to take his place in there. spencer doesn’t say a word, he just lets you go into the bathroom. in there, and in the fluorescent bathroom lighting, is when you can really see how bad everything is. you thought it was bad in the dorm room, but in here? it was a whole other story.

your finger traces over your black eye, which by now has turned a grotesque shade of purple. you know spencer is going to ask questions, but of course he would. he’s been your big brother for years now. 

when you decide you’re ready to go back out, and to face spencer with all the bruises and other secrets you had kept from him the past few months, you step out of the bathroom. spencer is laying on his bed on his phone, but when he hears the door to the bathroom close he’s looking right up at you. his face falls instantly.

“y/n…” he mumbles, sitting up straight resting his back against the wall.

“spence,” you sigh. “i’ll answer anything you want to know. just please, please don’t look at me differently or anything.”

“how long?” is the first thing he asks. you sit down next to him on his bed, but you cross your legs and face him. spencer’s hand goes up to cup the side of your cheek, but he freezes half way afraid of how you would react, letting his hand fall back to the mattress. 

you hesitate before speaking, your gaze dropping down to your lap. “five months.”

“y/n,” spencer’s hand gently rests on your chin, tilting it up so you can look at him. “you guys have only been dating for six months, it’s been going on nearly the entire time you’ve been together?”

you nod your head, afraid of using your voice in case you were to start crying. spencer lets out a defeated sigh, his hand going around your back and trying to bring you closer to him. instead, you wince in pain and immediately spencer withdrawals his hand from you.

“shit, i’m sorry.” when you look up, spencer’s eyes are glossy looking down at you. “god. how couldn’t i have noticed this? i knew things were strange when the two of you started dating.”

“it’s okay, i didn’t want anyone to know. but it’s over now, okay? i’ll probably just end up transferring closer to home at the start of the next semester and everything will be okay.” spencer lets out a sigh, but nonetheless he still nods his head. he knows it’s what you needed. 

spencer hesitates before speaking, “how many bruises do you have?” he asks quietly. silently, you shift back and pull your shirt up just enough to show the bruises on your stomach, then shifting so he can see the ones on your back, an assortment of both fresh and old ones. when you turn back to face him, there are more tears in his eyes than there were before. 

instead of saying anything, you scoot closer to spencer and wrap your arms around his neck. you rest your head on his shoulder and he gingerly wraps his arms around your waist, this time being extra careful as to not hit any of the bruises you had just shown him. for the first time of the night you relax against his touch. you pull your head back away from his chest, your thumb running over his bottom lip where it was split. “does this hurt?” you ask quietly, and spencer shakes his head. you heave out a sigh, your head resting right back on his chest.

“i love you, y/n. please never forget that.” spencer whispers in your ear and you nod. 

“i love you too spencer,” you breathe out. “can we lay down? i’m exhausted.”

spencer nods, shifting so he can lay down. you’re laying down right after him, but keeping a safe distance. spence manages to grab the tv remote and he turns it on to fill the silence of the room. your eyes focus on the rerun of friends playing on the screen until your eyes start to get heavy. you feel the bed shift and you feel spencer getting up from the bed.

“spence, stay,” you whisper, reaching out to grab his wrist. “please, just hold me.”

[luciferpens]

Loved You Once || Aurora & Kass ft Zoey

What: Another accidental run in -- except this time... more people get hurt.  Where: Poseidon Beach  When:  March 25, 2021 Who: Aurora, Kass (@kassmeifyoucan), ft Zoey (@icarialex)   TW: Abuse, death, breakups, lies, 

Pacing never seemed to actually help any kind of situation but here she was.... Pacing. She was nervous, and not just because of everything that had been going on as of late. No, it was also due to the fact that she had planned out something special. A date. An actual date where she called it a date and they both knew it was a date and—look. It was a date. Granted, she hadn’t exactly told Zoey that it was a date. She’d just said it was a surprise but... Maybe part of the surprise would be that it was actually a date? To her nerves and utter horror, Zoey wouldn’t be off of work for another half hour, maybe less depending on how long it took her to close up shop. A whole half hour for her to be alone with her thoughts. To worry over every detail. The campfire was lit, the guitar and the food basket and blankets were hidden behind a large piece of driftwood. The blonde would be none-the-wiser! It was perfect! Until it wasn’t. Because there she was. And no, not Zoey. Aurora. What the hell was she doing walking on her beach? ....Okay so it wasn’t her beach. But still. The fuck. Without missing a beat, Kassandra crossed her arms over her chest and called out to the other woman. “Um... Hey?”

—

Aurora was not used to Island life or Island time, everyone here seemed to move at a different speed, a slower one, a less get up and go sort of speed. And when you come from the chaos of LA and the FBI anything other than 100 seemed like a snail's pace. Though…. She was slowly learning to enjoy it. Those she met were slowly convincing her to take things a bit slower and enjoy the view. So she decided to take their advice and enjoy the view of the ocean. She slipped out of her shoes and laced them over her fingers as she started to slowly walk up the coast line, just letting her mind wonder and flutter between all the things going on. Running into Kass and then running into Juliette, she really should just leave. Leave them both to their lives without her showing up and being a bomb. There was so much to be done too… with Jane being taken she needed to keep her safe and then close the file; there were still other files on her desk back home, other people she needed to find; other things she needed to do -- and yet she couldn’t leave Icaria yet. Not until she was 100% sure Jane would be safe and had everything she needed here. So she was stuck. Stuck with these thoughts, this place and the anxiety of knowing every moment here meant so many other things she wasn’t ready to deal with. Lost in thought she almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a familiar voice. Her hand, not the one holding the shoes, flew to her chest. “Oh -- hey.” She said with a tiny, tiny smile but as the tone of Kass’ voice registered in her head it faltered and she glanced away, “I uh -- didn’t even see you there, I can go back” she tossed her thumb over her shoulder indicating she could turn back around and walk away, give her space. “I hate to intrude or -- anything.”

—

"Its a beach, Aurora. You're allowed to be on it. I just... Sorry, I guess I find it funny and also kind of like the universe is.." Kassandra sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment before she held up her hands in a surrendering motion. "Look. You can be wherever you want. I'm not going to force you to leave. It's just hard seeing you. Logically I know it shouldn't be because you're not even.... Nevermind." Kassandra breathed deeply for a moment, trying to calm herself down. The good part of this whole interaction was that Zoey wasn't here, something she was super incredibly thankful for. That would be a whole can of worms that she didn't think she was ready to explain. Mainly because Zoey, Gods bless her, was the sweetest human bean to ever exist. She'd probably be so nice that her and Aurora would become friends and -- Nope. No. Do not think like that. It was then that she realized she'd been stuck in her own head and that she should probably say something that came off as completely awful. "Enjoying the weather?" No. Not that, you absolute fucking disaster of a human-ish being.

—

"It is." Aurora said with a slow nod, she wiggled her toes into the sand trying to use it to ground herself and not get upset. She was normally so good at keeping her cool and not getting emotional, but apparently that could be thrown out the window when it came to her ex-girlfriend. Clearing her throat she tilted her head to one side. "I'm not even?" she asked eyebrow shooting upward rather curious to know where Kass's mind was taking that sentence. But when no answer came quickly she realized Kass was lost in her mind and just cleared her throat hoping the noise would snap Kass out of her thoughts.

"The weather?" She asked glancing up to the sky, the ocean then to Kassandra again, "It's a nice difference from the places I've been lately. Not having to wear a ton of layers is -- a nice change of pace.”

—

Small talk. She could do small talk. On a beach. With her girlfriend not girlfriend planning on showing up at any minute. While she was talking to her ex girlfriend. Of course, totally fine. This was normal, right? Yeah, super normal. "You're not even gay." She finished her earlier thought, hoping that Aurora would understand. "So it's not like I should be upset about that. I'm not. But that's neither here nor there. Glad you're liking the weather though. It's a lot different from Portland." Kassandra sighed, rubbing the back of her neck before taking a cautious step closer to Aurora. "Look, I'm sorry. About my behavior since you've seen me, I mean. I'm not sorry for past me because honestly... Past me is still hurting which means... Present me is also hurting." She could slap herself. "I don't know what I'm saying. You make me forget how to function and it's annoying the absolute shit out of me." Kassandra put out into the open in probably the most honest thing she's said to Aurora in a long time. "But I'll manage.... So uh. You and Brandon? Still together?" Saying his name left a bitter taste in her mouth but she pressed on, wondering if she'd genuinely felt happy for her ex or not.

—

Aurora slowly tilted her head not understanding why in the world Kass would think she was straight but as Kass continued to talk the pieces fell back into place and she slowly nodded her head letting out a huff of a laugh. "Let me -- first clear up some misconceptions." She said running her free hand through her hair and tossing it to one side. "I am not gay, this is true, but I'm also not straight. I'm demi -- well, pansexual. Have been since we were children." Aurora swung her arms behind her back and looped her fingers together. "Two, you never need to apologize to me about your past or what happened between us. I know I fucked us up and hurt you and I take full ownership of that. Yell at me if you need to, tell me you hate me or slap me if it will make you feel better. I deserve it." She shrugged.  She honestly knew she deserved it, she knew she had broken Kass when she did what she did; and while she would have done it differently knowing what she knew now -- she knew that in the moment young Aurora was doing the best she could to protect herself. "As for Brandon, no. We --" She shook her head, "Weren't ever seriously dating, after we were," she motioned between them with a free hand " he basically -- was a beard and he knew it, I knew it. It was a safety thing." She shrugged. That sounded bad, but Brandon knew something bad was happening in her house and he just -- never questioned and did what he could to give her safe spaces to come to instead of being at home where her mother was.

—

She wasn't meaning to see red, but here she was. Listening to every word that came out of Aurora's mouth and letting it cut her deep, just like her words had when they were sixteen. "You're fucking kidding me." Her arms crossed over her chest, staring incredulously at her ex. "Do you have any fucking idea how much internalized homophobia I felt because of my mom? Because of you? I get that you couldn't have told your mom. I fucking understand. But you could have told me. I spent the next two fucking years of my life hating who I was because of who I loved." Kassandra felt sick to her stomach, taking a few staggering steps away from Aurora as she bent over, hands moving to her knees as she gulped in air.  Before Aurora could potentially make a move towards her, she held up a hand. "Don't you fucking dare come near me. I can't... You.. He was a beard. And you're..." Kassandra swallowed thickly, wishing the bile away. "You're pan. So you..." Green eyes tore upwards, looking at Aurora with such a broken gaze. "What was I to you? Was I some kind of fucking joke to you? An experiment? Because clearly whatever we were didn't fucking matter if you couldn't tell me the truth. You let me believe that I wasn't..." Tears flooded her vision, nausea ramping up in her belly. "Am I worthless to everyone I try to care about?"

—

Aurora felt her heart ripping from her chest. Why she still had it she wasn't sure; her heart had been ripped out -- well now three times. Twice by the same woman. It was a useless item, only seemed to cause her pain. Gods she should just go back to Quantico. Why was she still fucking on this gods forsaken island? Seeing Kass crying, seeing her in such pain made Aurora want to throw up. She never meant to hurt her. "I --" she shook her head, "I don't think you totally understand why couldn't tell my mom, why I had to do what I did." she swallowed, looking away and stopping herself from moving to comfort her ex love. "I'm so, so so, fucking sorry about it all, about hurting you, about -- all of it, Kass, I really am." She sucked in her lips tears welling in her eyes. "You are -- were the one person on this planet I love--d more than anything" She caught herself caught the present tense and while sure, it was still true she didn't need to hurt Kass more.  "I couldn't tell anyone the truth. I didn't even tell my own father until I was already 18 and about to graduate highschool. I didn't tell a SOUL about all the abuse I suffered through until I was 23 and -- honestly since then you're the only other person I've even mentioned it to." she shook her head thrusting her hand down to her side before stepping forward, anger in her movements but determination as well. "Don't you fucking dare Kassandra." She didn't curse often, but here she was, cursing and angry too. "You are not in any way worthless Kass. I didn't -- break up with you because I didn't love you. I loved you so much that I had to to keep my crazy mother from literally killing one of us. You have never -- ever been worthless and I am so sorry I ever made you think you were."

—

All Zoey had to go off of was a cryptic text from Kass telling her to meet the woman at the beach after she got off from work. Typically she’d worry about not having her bathing suit on her that day, but since the brunette didn’t like getting in the water, she didn’t worry so much. Zoey would rather spend her time with Kassandra than swim anyway. She could do the latter anytime. Still, she wasn’t used to being antsy to close shop. The artist loved her work, but she’d be lying if she didn’t love spending time with the mysterious and sometimes juxtaposing woman as well. When five o’clock finally came around, Zoey closed everything up and then began her short walk to the beach. She checked in with Noreen on the way to make sure everything was okay at the Inn, and then followed Kassandra’s directions on which street entrance to take that was closest to her destination. The blonde was so engrossed in her phone that she didn’t notice how close she was to her desired spot until she heard Kass yelling. The pain in her tone caused pain in her heart, but Zoey stood back and waited. It seemed important, and the illustrator didn’t know if she should interfere. 

She had no idea who the other woman was until she heard her mess up between love and loved. Then, Zoey’s heart stopped. Aurora. That’s who it had to be. Not being ready or able to hear what Kass’ reaction to that would be, she turned back around and walked away. Zoey wouldn’t go far because she’d seen the effort Kassandra had put into setting everything up in the background. So, she found a nearby bench, sat down, and did what she always did when she was upset or anxious. Zoey began to sketch.

—

Her brain had turned off as the rage and nausea consumed her, Kassandra staring at Aurora as she looked at her with that unreadable expression. It all shifted in her face when she stumbled over her words, stumbled over that word. Her eyes narrowed, she wanted to challenge that. Because no. No. Aurora didn't fucking get to do that to her. Not after a decade. But before she could even get out a word edgewise, the other woman was rounding on her. Kass visibly flinched, taking a step back as she wrapped her arms around her torso. It was then that she heard footsteps from behind her, causing her to turn around to see Zoey's retreating form. No.... No no no. Fuck. She wanted to go off after Zoey but she knew she had to deal with the woman who was right here, in front of her. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to come back into my life and stumble over that word, Aurora. I loved you. Loved. Past tense. I thought... I thought that a part of me would always love you. But I don't know how I could ever..." Love someone who hid the truth from me. She couldn't even say it, realizing how much of a hypocrite that would make her. "You were my first love. And I want to one day not hate you. But you don't get to insinuate that you still love me. Not after... Not after everything. Not after twelve fucking years." A tear fell down a cheek, Kassandra quickly wiping it away. "I need to go because that woman you saw walk away? Unlike you..." She locked their gazes, taking another step backwards in the direction of where Zoey had gone. "I can't let a good thing slip through my fingers." Kassandra turned to walk towards where she'd seen the blonde head off to, stopping for a moment to turn her head just enough so it was barely looking over her shoulder. "I need time.. Time to process what you've told me. Just please don't... Don't hurt me again." And with that, she walked away.

—

Seeing the flinch made Aurora recoil, to fold in on herself. She never wanted to be scary to people she cared about; those she was hunting for work, sure 100% she'd be fine being seen as threatening. But Kass? No she didn't want to do that. She took a couple stumbling steps backwards as Kassandra spoke. There was a stab of pain in her chest. She knew better than to not calculate her every word, when she let her mouth run she got hurt. This was just more proof of that. More proof she needed to slow down and think before she spoke.  As Kassandra continued, as she laid into her, saying she didn't know how she could ever her stomach dropped. She didn't connect the dots, didn't totally realize there was more to be said and instead took it as a sentence. A statement. Kass, in Aurora's mind, didn't know how she could ever have loved her. Right. This -- this was. She deserved that. She didn't deserve to say the things she did, even if some part of it still felt true to her. Nope. The muscles tightened in her jaw as her fists clenched and tears threatened to spill. Another jab as she mentioned the other woman; some blonde who had walked up looked confused, hurt and then walked away. She just nodded and watched as Kass started to walk off. She was unmovable. Frozen as still as a statue as Kass slowed for a moment to say one last thing. She didn't look up, didn't dare even breathe. She waited a few moments until she could hear Kass's steps fade and she finally let out a breath. With that breath the tears came, the anger flowed and she felt an intense level of fear and hatred towards herself. She turned on a dime, kicked the sand creating a small cloud before she walked off, eyes down.... only to stop ten feet forward and see what Kass had been hiding when she first walked up. Oh. She had messed up a date with -- that blonde girl and now -- she felt even fucking worse. She slipped her shoes on and started to run, exercise  being the only thing to clear her mind.