#which is why my skin has been awful for years

[kurooh]

PROFESSIONAL ( AT LOVIN’ ) !

⊹₊˚. HAWKS’ BDAY 2024 — after six months of being his press agent’s friend with all kinds of benefits, keigo struggles to find a way to tell you that he can’t keep up his side of the agreement any longer. / or, his heart’s been in it since the very beginning.

word count: 14.3K (um….please read🧎‍♀️)

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, friends with benefits -> lovers, angst, unprotected sex, creampies, cunnilingus, drinking (everyone is mid twenties), dirty talk, squirting once, office sex.

xoxo, juno: happy LATE birthday to keigo <33 WOOO first fic of 2025 and it’s the longest one i’ve ever written.. inspired by the weeknd’s kissland! hope you enjoy, love you guys :,) 🩷

“this pussy of yours is pretty fuckin’ greedy, huh?”

“how could i not be when you always fuck me so g-good?” the filthy words rush out of your mouth in a surge of euphoria that has taken over your cognitive functions and renders you clinically cock drunk. in this state, things you’d normally never agree to are suddenly more alluring than a shiny trinket to a nesting bird. sex on the roof of the heroes’ safety commission is outlandish and obscene (you’d used those words when keigo had first brought it up in jest) — but here you are getting plowed by none other than the no. 2 hero of japan.

“aw, dovey,” keigo coos, gloved hand closing around the slope of your neck and tugging you back into his chest, “you’ve always got the best compliments, don’t ya?”

“ah, r-right there!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull as your third orgasm of the half hour boils in your tummy like magma in an explosive volcano. “shit, kei, ‘m gonna cum again..”

“heh, go ahead ‘n let it out for me,” the heel of his other hand digs hard into the plush skin above your pubic bone and the crude slapping of skin against skin grows louder. “c’mon, baby, cum all over this cock. show me how good you feel, yeah?”

“yeah,” you whimper, desperately throwing your ass back onto his cock to get him even deeper, “oh my god, keigo, fuuuck—‘m cumming!”

it nearly sweeps you off your feet, the strength of your blissful orgasm leaving you shaking violently and clenching uncontrollably on keigo’s cock. his teeth sharply sink into his lower lip when he quickly pulls out of you, lamely stroking himself to completion above your ass and spraying strings of ivory onto your skin. your body is slick with sweat and now cum, but the messiness of the situation doesn’t hit you quite yet — you’re busy trying to catch your breath while he hangs his head lowly behind you.

keigo still holds you upright on legs of jelly, lightly beating his wings to help stabilize himself. watchful gold eyes sweep over your body, doing a once over and admiring every inch of you. he’s always considered you as the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and has always felt lucky to touch you — so why does he feel so damn unfulfilled? it’s probably a form of karma; keigo hasn’t ever had a consistent relationship, all due to his own actions. so many of his old girlfriends had clashed with him over his neglectful habits — his inability to give them time, attention, and effort. all of his relationships began positively, then quickly deteriorated into toxicity he’d grown tired of dealing with.

he’d been single for a year, and went without sex for longer. if he didn’t always have the press looming over his shoulder and scrutinizing each of his damn movements, he would’ve been able to get his dick wet sooner! keigo would certainly never admit it, but the total deprivation has been a good thing, allowing him to reset and understand why those relationships had completely gone downhill. at the time, he’d pettily blamed his girlfriend or the new guy she’d moved on with.

you let out a tired puff of breath and break away from his hold too soon just to look at your phone, which is sitting on top of keigo’s jacket. “so, my lunch break isn’t over just yet. we can hit the sandwich place around the block if you’re up for it?”

god, you’ve got that lazy smile playing on your lips like it always does after he’s made you cum. how is it possible for someone to look so elegant even as she buttons her blouse and wipes cum off her ass with a spare napkin? his brain literally short circuits when you hand him his jacket, plush lips shaping around a word. words. didn’t you just say something? maybe his post nut clarity has faded into obscurity, or he’s lost his hearing from how hard he just came.

“keigo,” you sigh, snapping your fingers in front of his face and briefly contemplating slapping him out of his stupor, “is the light on upstairs?”

a shiver jolts through him despite the fact that the weather’s warm, and his disassociated eyes finally hone in on you, standing right in front of him. “yeah, sorry. what’d you say earlier?”

you shrug on your suit jacket and slip into your heels. “i’m still free. we can grab sandwiches around the block if you’d like.”

so thoughtful. his heart swells happily at the prospect of eating lunch with you. it always does, usually accompanied with a flip in his stomach, whenever he tags along on something you’re doing, whether it’s eating lunch or sorting through lengthy documents after the office closes.

“sounds good. are we walking or flying, dovey?” your favorite sex petname rolls off his tongue naturally, and after months of this arrangement, you’ve stopped correcting him.

“let’s just walk,” you say decisively, wrapping the used napkin in another, “it attracts less press, showbird.”

☆ ☆

still thrumming with the sensations of sex, keigo walks into the restaurant behind you, piping up to place his order and then to swipe his card for the lunch. he dutifully waits at the table while you stand at the counter, glancing at your phone every now and then to alleviate the impatient boredom that accompanies most edible purchases. keigo allows himself a moment of respite, and instead of looking at his phone, he looks at you — particularly the way your clothes hug the slopes and curves of your body, much like he does when he’s coming down from an orgasm.

it was exactly eight months ago when keigo had first laid eyes on you. he knew right then and there that under no circumstances would he allow his old persona to shine through or mess things up between the two of you. for the first two months out of those eight, keigo had befriended you (with much encouragement from his friend mirko, bless her) and spent time getting to know you as a person over friendly lunches and the occasional drink. he’d committed each of your stories to memory and marked your birthday down on the calendar, something he’d never done for anyone else before. the beginning of everything was after one of those rare drinks that had landed you in keigo’s apartment and sitting criss-crossed on his bed, discussing your unlucky love life.

he’d listened with rapture as you pored over the freaks you’d met and gone out with in detail, mistakenly trusting your friends to set you up with someone nice on a blind date. in their defense, you’d drunkenly mumbled, it’s not their fault that there’s so many people catfishing. one inebriated conversation led to another, and you’d happened upon the fact that neither of you hadn’t had any good sex in a very long time. in the morning, you came into work late and sore all over, but also newly enlightened. for the past six months, you’ve successfully maintained a friends with benefits relationship with keigo takami, the no. 2 hero of japan.

“this one’s yours. here’s the receipt,” you push him a tightly wrapped sub sandwich and his tab.

he catches the sandwich after letting it spin on the table like an arrow on a game spinner, then crumples the receipt. “why don’t you believe me when i say i enjoy paying for you, hm?”

you sigh after a bite. “it makes me feel like a sugar baby . . but also, i can pay for myself.”

“so you’re either saying i’m old or rich,” keigo chuckles when you roll your eyes dramatically, “i know you can, but just let me spoil you, dovey.”

you knew it was a losing game the moment you brought it up, cheeks heating a little at the implication of his words. maybe being his baby isn’t that bad. conversation comes to a comfortable standstill as you both dig into your sandwiches, crumbs falling to the table and making a small mess. when you look up to pause and wipe your mouth, a laugh tumbles out before you can stop it.

“what?” keigo asks confusedly, holding his sandwich tightly and going so far as to swivel around backwards in hopes of pinpointing whatever made you laugh. 

you wrap a napkin over your fingers and lean across the table. instinctually, keigo leans in for a kiss, only to be a little more than heartbroken when you swerve to the side and dodge it to instead dab at a streak of mustard across his chin. the sudden intimacy and close proximity cause the apples of his cheeks to turn rosy in embarrassment. “did you just lead me on?” he asks when he notices you giggling at him again, voice taking on a playful and petty tone. “because it totally feels like you did that on purpose.”

“no, keigo,” a wide smile spreads across your face at his usual antics, “you were the one eating so quickly you got mustard all over your face! someone had to clean you up.”

in an instant, his voice drops an octave, becoming low and sultry. “you keep talking like that and i’ll clean you up.”

“i— we’re in public!” you exclaim, a dull ache pulsing between your legs at the thought of him using his tongue on you. 

he shrugs noncommittally, feeling triumphant now that he’s briefly flustered you. “public or not, you know you love it. now eat your sandwich.”

“way ahead of you,” heat floods your cheeks as you pick up the sandwich, feeling dirty because of the slick pooling into your underwear. keigo doesn’t understand how easy it is to get you worked up, whether it’s with his words or the mischievous footsie he keeps playing under the table with you. “if i come across a headline about this conversation, i’m gonna kill you.”

☆ ☆

“late night?” keigo hums, shattering your concentration on the current task. startled and disheveled, you glance up just in time to catch his typical smirk. his gold eyes shamelessly rake up and down your body as if he’s spotted something he wants—no, needs—to claim. however, his raunchy ogling comes to a screeching halt when he hones in on the shadowy dark circles beneath your eyes.

“the latest,” you blow out a peeved breath through pursed lips, doing your utmost to avoid looking out the window. it’s completely dark outside, the sky an inky blanket of night and stars over the city. “i’m fucking swamped.”

it comes out bitterly, and keigo cautiously steps forward, wings twitching nervously behind him. that well-groomed mess of vermilion feathers at his back seems to have a mind of its own, constantly betraying their owner by displaying his emotions so openly. 

“what, you coming to rescue me?” absentmindedly, you swish around your empty coffee mug. not a single drop flies over the edge, the porcelain totally dry as if it was never used.

“c’monnnn, you know i’m always up to rescue you,” he teases playfully, gently tugging the mug out of your grip and setting a reassuring palm down on your hunched shoulders. “i’ll get us some coffee and help you out when i get back.”

“i highly doubt that you’re qualified to deal with PR work, keigo.” a small though rascally smile plays on your lips, corners flicking up as your sour demeanor starts to mellow out. 

he sticks out his tongue and steps out of your office, heading to the kitchen. as his feet quietly pad along the hard carpet, he considers your recent behavior — last week you were fucking around on the roof and then getting sandwiches like it was nobody’s business. keigo was seeing you around the office and outside of it, but the time he’d been spending with you had decreased dramatically over the past few days. the coordinated lunch breaks and escapades were no more, and keigo’s been caught up wondering why. now, the reason for this couldn’t be linked to anything he did or said — still, it’s impossible for him not to overthink.

“god, you’re a lifesaver!” you groan joyously as keigo sets down a full mug of coffee in front of you and away from your laptop and notepad. “thank you for this.”

“slow down, you haven’t even seen the things i can do outside of making coffee.”

you rotate your laptop once he finally takes a seat in front of you, insistently pointing a finger at the various tasks on your metaphorical plate. “if i give you some work, you’ll have to do a lot of proofreading.”

keigo nods, and his eyebrows suddenly pull downwards in a mix of playful confusion and surprise. “wait, is that a virtual shrine dedicated to me?”

“what?” you mutter, squinting your eyes as you frantically look over the computer screen to no avail. “oh, shut up. just start reading while i finish up the rest.”

there’s a pause and a beat of silence as you both settle into your respective assignments.

then, “i actually came to the office because i missed you a little.”

“you what?” you laugh increduously, licking a finger to aid you in flipping through paperclipped pages. his eyes follow you, from the moment your tongue darts out to wet your skin and then flicks through pages you skim to find what you’re looking for.

“well, i haven’t seen you outside of work in a while,” keigo sniffs, tearing his eyes away from you and refocusing on the words on the screen. at the risk of sounding too vulnerable, he throws in something disgustingly horny to save himself. “was just wondering about my fuck buddy.”

fuck. he’s really cringing now, throat instinctually closing up once he feels waves of nausea crashing over him. but you don’t even bat an eye, too busy setting papers aside in different stacks and barely paying attention to him. “oh, yeah. i’m sorry, it’s just that a ton of people have been dumping so much work on me.”

“so that’s why i’m reading a drafted article enshrining endeavor as number one?” he grins, briefly catching your eyes. you’re not quite sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up or something else, but your stomach flutters when you automatically meet his gaze. loose papers drift to the floor, falling right past you. 

“yep, that’s why,” you laugh nervously, snatching up the papers so forcefully that they crumple in your grasp. keigo’s always so damn charming, and it affects you more now that you’re so tired. right?

“you want some dinner, dovey?” the affectionate pet name lingers in your mind, echoing loudly until it finally fades into a memory from a while ago. the transition of his affectionate voice into one choked with unadulterated pleasure is seamless, leaving you breathless in an instant. a glance at his wings has you sloppily picturing them fanned out above you and frantically beating the air as keigo ruts his hips into yours . . god, what’s gotten into you? he certainly could.

“i want you,” it slips out before you can stop it or even control it, words laced with a silent desperation only he can detect. “uh, i mean—”

“bold words,” a wolf whistle trills out into the air, reminding you that you’ve now started something you won’t be getting out of easily. “sure you can handle what you’re askin’ for, baby?”

“don’t act like i haven’t countless times before,” you retort, voice a little weaker than you’d like. it’s frustrating, the influence he has over your body — he hasn’t even said anything meaningful and yet heat’s surging to your cheeks while a shiver of excitement ripples through you.

“riiiight. aren’t you the one always saying you can’t handle it? ‘oh, keigo, please! i can’t, i—’”

the endless teasing is just too much — it makes your blood boil, gets your pulse racing, and absolutely does what it was intended to do. your full mug of coffee tips off the edge of the table and spills when you slam the laptop shut, leaping forward to rapidly close the distance between you two. your lips, slightly sticky with coffee, crash onto keigo’s hard, causing your foreheads to knock together too.

it’s a palpable invitation, one that he eagerly accepts without hesitation. his strong hands settle firmly on your hips in an attempt to stop their slight tremble, fingertips pressing into the curve of your waist. he pulls you into his lap and you fall into sync with one another just like always: keigo slips his tongue into your mouth while you tug at his blonde curls. impatience curated by time apart and characterized by frustration has the air in the room sparking with white hot electricity that’s strong enough to cause a power outage — you’re so close to finally scratching that unbearable itch, at least until it comes back tomorrow with much more ferocity.

keigo draws back with a knowing smile, lips curling up. “we should stop, dovey.”

a thin, glossy string of saliva connects your lips to his. you’ve got this desperate, needy look written all over your face, which crumples petulantly as you consider the possibility of being left unsatisfied. something purely horny twists in his chest, alongside his still yearning heart — keigo fucking loves being in control, being the only one who can give you the satisfaction that you so desperately need, but the thought of being something more resurfaces in his mind again.

it always comes to him at the worst times: right now, during a sexual moment, or before he falls asleep and when he opens his eyes to daylight in the morning. it’s eating him up inside, and he’s already too far in to stop — or is he? no, he isn’t! not if he finds a way to extricate himself from the suffocating casualness of this mess and advance whatever’s left into a real relationship, one that’s abundant in love and adoration. the evolution of the relationship hinges on the timing of his love confession, so he’ll definitely plan to wait until you’re not holed up in the office and on his lap looking like you’re about to shed tears.

“i c-can’t,” you gasp breathlessly, heart pounding in your ears, “kei, please— i need you so badly, i’ve been waiting so damn long.” 

and who is he to deny you, when you’re begging so beautifully?

“so you missed me?” keigo murmurs, pressing kisses to the column of your throat and savoring the way you softly gasp. this is his moment. he’s going to slyly frame a question for you, and when you answer it correctly, he’ll spring his confession onto you and then give you what you’ve been dying for.

“god, yes,” a moan rushes out from between your lips, head tipping back to give him easier access. with his nose pressed into your skin, keigo blissfully inhales the faint wisps of your favorite perfume. eight months later and you’re still wearing that scent daily, ever since he complimented you the day he met you. “you know i did, keigo.”

“what’d you miss the most?” he smirks between open mouthed kisses, guiding you straight to the answer with his warm hands that slip under your shirt and languidly caress the small of your back. 

“your cock, t-the way you fuck me,” you groan, unintentionally shattering his plan into pieces; but he doesn’t let it show, chuckling into your neck as he rapidly snatches them up and off the floor. it’s okay, he’s okay. all he has to do is ask a few more questions and offer up some multiple choice answers — in doing so, he’ll have a chance to tell you how he really feels.

“mmmm, is that all?” 

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you tug him back by the hair, scrutinizing him with eyes clouded by lust and nothing else. a carnation colored flush sits high on his cheekbones, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down a pesky i love you. not now, not here — this isn’t the right moment.

“keigo, why are you questioning me like my boss does?” he blinks, averting his eyes to your glossy neck, shining with his saliva in the dim light. it smells like coffee now, and he’s wondering if it’ll ever get cleaned up, dark liquid overflowing and soaking through the carpet, straight into the floor. he doesn’t want to be like the coffee, forgotten about and lingering in the air since it had fallen off the desk without you having caught it.

keigo knows you — he always has, and it’s too easy to pick up on the unmistakable tension twisted in your question, along with undertones of discomfort and deflection. automatically, he slips back into his typical persona, lips curling into an impish smile while he waggles his eyebrows to emphasize his words. “heh, you’re so impatient. can you blame me for wanting to build things up?”

you visibly relax, plush mouth forming into a pout he wants to kiss away. “i think there’s been plenty of build up. don’t tease me again.”

“yes ma’am,” he replies coolly, lifting his hands into the air in a show of submission. you release his hair and he pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly as he stands up from the chair. it rolls away into a corner, plastic backing hitting the wall with a soft thud just as keigo slams you down on the desk, papers flying every which way. 

“keigo, hah, you haven’t even gotten me naked yet,” you sigh, heat rushing to your face as he sinks to his knees on the hard carpet, his eyes never leaving yours. dexterous, impatient fingers find the clasp of your pants, and he drags them down your legs, along with your sticky panties. 

“i know,” keigo breathes, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and pulling your hips close to his face, “and yet, you’re already fucking soaked for me. aren’t you, baby?”

“yeah, i am,” you whimper, feeling your cunt clench around nothing when he rewards you by spitting onto your clit. “all for you, kei.”

“you’re so cute.” 

you really are, all spread out on the desk, pretty and pliant just for him. there’s not a shred of resistance when he manuvers you closer or teases his fingertips around your quivering hole, ignoring your strained cries for more. dark pupils enlarge against gold irises, and keigo’s wings flutter eagerly as his arousal crashes over him in continuous, steady waves of heat. now that he’s between your legs and focused on his favorite late night snack, the scent of the coffee dissipates along with his thoughts. 

“keigo,” you keen, fingers threading through his tousled curls, “please, just—oh god, stop fuckin’ teasing me.”

a sportive smack! lands on the side of your bare ass, kicking up a few papers when you jolt forward in surprise. “easy, baby. easy,” there’s a low, warning pitch in his voice, and you settle down frustratedly, gnawing on your lower lip. keigo’s never been one to rush when it comes to eating your pussy, even during quickies—you’d be more aggravated if he didn’t always make you cum so damn hard. his face is flushed pink and shining with eagerness as he pushes two fingers inside you, fixated on the way they slide in so easily. 

he experimentally curls them, and a lick of heat washes over his whole body when he watches your face crumple, head tipping back weakly while you tug at his hair. the blond curls are soft between your fingers, giving you something to grab onto when you need to steady yourself. 

“fuckkk,” keigo groans, attaching his rosy lips to your clit and lightly sucking at the swollen, sensitive bud. clumsily, you grind your hips against his mouth, body sweltering as the small office fills with the impolite smacks of his lips and wet squelches of your sloppy cunt. “loosen up for me, baby, you’re too tight.”

a trembly breath leaves your lips as you obediently readjust for him, spreading your legs and trying to relax so he can tug his fingers back. for a moment, he pauses to appreciatively look over his glossy, creamy fingers—he sticks them into his mouth, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he puts on a show of swirling his tongue around them like some kind of slut. once he opens his eyes, those piercing gold hues meet your own and he plunges them back inside, making you whimper.

“listen to me, dovey,” keigo murmurs, breath fanning over your wet clit, “i want you cumming hard on my fingers in the next thirty seconds.”

“but—oh,” your voice cracks when he deeply curls his fingers, purposefully interrupting you, “what if it’s not enough? i don’t think i can—”

sharp, pearly teeth lightly graze your clit and make you mewl noisily, the action both a warning and a reward. “yes, you can, dovey,” he utters in a hushed voice, “c’mon, show me you’re a big girl. i’ll be counting for ya.”

with that, keigo dives back in, furiously licking your clit while he roughly curls his fingers into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. it’s probably not serious, but something in your stomach flutters at the thought of disobeying him—if he wants you to cum, you’ll do just that. your hips rock into his tongue, developing a messy rhythm that could possibly rival his own when he’s inside you—he smirks against you, clearly pleased with himself. papers lift into the air, swirling around in a flurry of white as if they’re caught up in a tornado. the source of the miniature storm is his wings, uncontrollably flapping about as he determinedly licks at your clit like a lollipop. 

twenty five. a thin sheen of sweat shines on your forehead, making the skin tacky. absentmindedly, you wonder if it could be possible for him to cum in his pants just from eating you out. he certainly enjoys it enough — whenever he says he’s feeling thirsty or hungry, he’ll end up eating you out for so long you pass out by your seventh orgasm.

twenty. keigo’s absorbed in the smell, sight, and taste of you. nothing’s better than watching you fall apart on him, dewy tears in your eyes as you fight back overstimulation or impatience. but this is new: he’s never demanded you to cum after setting a time limit in place. it occurs to him now that he didn’t think far enough ahead to answer the question you’ll probably end up asking afterwards, something along the lines of ‘what would’ve happened if i didn’t cum?’ . . 

fifteen. with your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips lurch off the desk, a bit of drool pours down your chin. covered in a mixture of sweat, spit, and slick, you’re at a loss for words as keigo’s damn tongue rolls over your clit again and again. perhaps you’re too dazed, but you swear you feel him etch the letters of his name into you with the tip of his tongue.

ten. keigo’s pussydrunk, soaking his boxers with precum as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. his eyes are dark with lust, and the rosy skin of his cheeks and chin is smeared with that sticky wetness he just can’t get enough of. all of your muscles pull taut like a bowstring, and you sob out his name, pushing his face into you as euphoria hits you from every direction and all at once.

“kei, oh my god, ‘m gonna fucking cum,” within seconds of your frantic gasps, you abruptly gush on his fingers, hard enough to push them out of you — cum squirts from your cunt, getting onto his face when he curiously leans in to lick it away.

you don’t get a second to come down from your high because keigo roughly licks you through it as if he’s severely dehydrated. “mmmph!” you squeal, hips immediately pulling away from him like he’s given you an electric shock. “wai—wait, keigo, it’s way too much!”

he relents, rolling his eyes as if he doesn’t believe you. “fine, fiiiiine. you win this one, dovey.”

“pants off.”

he quirks an eyebrow but starts to undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft bang. “you’re so fucking greedy, i swear.”

you throw him a glare, wiping sweat off of your forehead as you sit up, slowly hopping off of the desk. 

papers fall all around you, quietly crinkling as they hit the floor and surround the desk in a sloppy circle. your lips press into a thin line as you take the sight in, mildly exasperated by the mess you’ll force him to clean up. “on the desk, keigo. tuck your wings in too.”

he laughs in disbelief, used to calling the shots when it comes to sex, “so demanding, baby.”

you fix him with a serious look, crossing your arms over your chest while papers ride the dying currents of air made by his wings. keigo clears his throat and folds his wings close to his back, “yes ma’am.”

his flushed cock is rock hard, bobbing as he settles onto the desk; it’s fraught with veins and beautifully curved to one side, something you’re endlessly thankful for when he’s inside you. above him, you’re dripping wet and ready to take him deep — keigo shudders when you grip the base of his cock, carefully balancing yourself on the desk so that you can easily sit down on it.

“holy—oh, shit,” he curses, abs clenching beneath his clothing as he forces himself to keep his hips down. if you want to take control, he’ll give it to you — anything you could ever want is immediately yours. bleary gold eyes clear up and hone in on where you’re connected; your pussy swallows his cock whole like it’s nothing, leaving him breathless.

you swallow, gnawing at your lower lip, “i’ve fucking missed this, kei. been s-so long.”

memories from your most favorite escapades rush back to you so quickly your head spins, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand. there’s a beat of silence before keigo grips your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he borderline begs you, “baby, c’mon, fuck me already.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you breathe, placing your hands in the center of his chest to hold yourself up, “you don’t get to do that right now, keigo.”

“god, you’re gonna kill me.”

maybe you won’t, but your hips will — they start to move until you’re bouncing roughly on his cock, letting his tip bully itself against your cervix. it’s the kind of kiss that only the two of you can understand, filled with affection and an hungry obsession for more.

for what seems to be the hundredth time, this mahogany desk is christened with more sex. skin claps against skin, filling the room with the same applause that echoes in a theater after a successful show; the whole building is empty, and it’s only your window that’s flooded with fluorescent light in the otherwise dark night.

“dovey,” keigo moans, voice cracking on the familiar pet name, “if you keep going like this, i’m—i’m not gonna last much longer.”

you don’t answer, eyes squeezing shut against the burn of exhaustion setting into your muscles. handsy as always, he grabs at your tits, pulling you further on top of him and taking a hardened nipple into your mouth.

the sharp edges of his pearly teeth drag against your skin as he sucks, golden eyes shutting once he hears your whiny moans grow louder. you’re fluid and all too smooth, riding his cock into oblivion while working in these little humps against his pelvis that don’t disturb the rhythm you’ve built up. your clit drags across his skin deliciously—shit, it’s possible that you could cum together.

“haah, baby,” keigo trembles beneath you, wings spreading out and quivering against his will. “i’m so damn close, i want—” it nearly sounds too intimate, but he ignores the voice in the back of his mind and focuses on his impending orgasm that’s fighting its way out of him. “shit, i just want you to cum with me.”

sensitivity creeps up your spine and makes your body ripple with a shudder, “r-rub my clit ‘n i will, kei.”

everything happens so damn fast; it doesn’t take long for your body to respond to his frenetic touch, and you completely fall apart on his cock, triggering his own high. while your cunt desperately grips him like a vice, he’s shooting endless ropes of cum deep against your cervix. ultimately, it was pointless for him to fold up his wings — they’ve fought against him like usual, strewing more papers around the room and knocking objects off of your desk.

“d-don’t move just yet,” he wheezes, holding your hips in place the moment you try to retreat, “just stay here for a second, dovey.”

a mixture of slick and cum is smeared in the wispy beige hair that adorns his pelvis, and he looks at you pleadingly, cheeks a blotchy pink. it’s cute, but not nearly convincing enough for you to stay much longer than half a minute. “c’mon, i’ve got some stuff to finish up.”

begrudgingly, keigo lets you go and winces as you pull off of his cock. it flops lamely against his stomach, cum dribbling down the sides and adding to the creamy ring around the base. he sighs, unsurprised by your eagerness to depart — his thighs are cooling now that you’re no longer sitting on top of them.

“that was good,” you say, voice layered with praise as you stand on the tips of your toes and peck an appreciative kiss to his cheek, “let’s get started on sorting papers, shall we?”

you’re already across the room before he can grab your waist and show you what a real kiss feels like, slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand each and every time. 

☆ ☆

rules are the stitches in the seams of anything, always there to hold things tightly in place. it’s natural to break a few every now and then, but what if there are some that should be broken? perhaps they tend to hold things back rather than securely in place.

“okinawa’s just beautiful,” keigo says wistfully, reminiscing about white sand beaches and the bird’s eye view of colorful tourist umbrellas dotting the shoreline from above. there’s a small glitch in his memories that adds you to the scene in a bikini, sunbathing on a towel while he convinces you to come swim in the water with him. he hears himself say something impulsive, but he doesn’t regret it. “maybe we can go on a trip there together. i’ll fly us.”

you stir your drink with a straw, watching the alcohol whirl around ice. “ah, i think we should build up to that, keigo. you’re forgetting that i’ve never flown around that far with you before.”

“we could always change that,” he replies, voice suave. “nighttime is the best time to fly.”

“someday i might just take you up on it,” a laugh spills out of your mouth after a gulp of sweetened tequila, and keigo’s face softens. one of the things he loves most about you is the fact that you’re not afraid to be yourself around him, never once hiding a smile or laugh. “anyway, is there anywhere you haven’t traveled?”

“hmm, let me think,” he raises his fingers to his chin and ponders momentarily, although the answer had come to him the moment you’d started to ask the question. “well, there’s your house.”

you shake your head, nudging his wrist with your own. “noooo, i’m talking about other countries and cities. haven’t you flown out of japan?” 

“only to okinawa,” he supplies, wings twitching anxiously. whenever he brings up your home in the city or worse, him going to it, you always clam up or push him away. granted, it was a boundary line you’d marked in the sand when you’d gotten into this reciprocal relationship all those months ago. escapades have taken place everywhere but your home—he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d mentioned doing it at your place, only to end up on a random rooftop or in an empty alleyway. ever the quick learner, keigo learned not to bring it up. but now, when he’s considering all the variables involved when it comes to confessing to you, he can’t help but feel that it’s necessary to see your house at least once.

sweat rolls down his spine and he unconsciously tugs at his fitted shirt, feeling the heatwaves brought on from both the liquor and the crowded atmosphere of the bar. there’s so many people walking behind the two of you, so much noise, so many bodies all in one space — he feels a little trapped.

“i’ve never been,” you say, derailing his train of thought as you drain your third drink of the night and then flag down the bartender for another. “it’s supposed to be a great vacation spot, though.”

he wipes away the sweat from his forehead with his arm and finishes his drink before nodding your way, wings fidgeting behind him. “it really is, dovey. you wanna take off after another drink or two?”

two glasses slide on the counter, the sides dripping with condensation and cold to the touch. it’s nice to feel in his hands, and he feels his nerves calming after a few long sips. “sounds good,” you answer, feeling hot yourself. the edges of everything in the room seem to blur, thanks to the halos circling the dim bar lights. “you might have to carry me out of here, though.”

“oh, i don’t mind,” keigo answers with a smirk that you can hear in his voice before looking up at him, “but only if you promise you’ll hold on tightly.”

“yes, keigo,” you drawl, scooting your barstool a few inches closer to him. he follows your shameless eyes, tracing your weighted stare to the small gold chain around his neck. it makes a tinkling sound when keigo loops a finger beneath it, hazy eyes meeting your own.

“can’t stop staring, can you?”

you automatically roll your eyes and look away, although your heart starts to race with anticipation. it should be an innocent question, but keigo’s words roll off his tongue in a way that is loaded with his unique charm and flirtatiousness. in a matter of seconds, you’re overthinking the question and the certain innuendo behind it; your breaths come in shallow pants that are just barely audible, and a finger slips beneath your chin to tip your head up. 

keigo leans in, lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “gettin’ all worked up and i haven’t even touched you? that’s a first for you, baby.”

just stop it, you think, yet you’re unable to turn away. damn, he’s got you right where he wants you, and he knows it — keigo shoots you a knowing smile when he notices your thighs unconsciously squeeze together. it’s so hot in this bar, and it only grows hotter in his presence; an uncontrollable shiver races up your spine and you shakily reach for your drink. “stop it, kei.”

your words are shaky, and his wings twitch triumphantly behind him, feathers slightly puffing up. the dewy glass slips right out of your hand and splashes all over your blouse, sticky tequila soaking all the way through to your bra and dampening your chest. keigo stifles a snicker and plucks the glass out of your lap, a little bit of liquid still sloshing around inside it.

“that—that was your fault,” you drop a loose ice cube into the remains of your drink and glare at him angrily as he dabs a handful of napkins against your chest, unabashedly looking over the shrinking fabric. now that it’s all wet, it clings to every inch of your chest and emphasizes the outline of your tits.

“oh, but i wasn’t holding the drink,” keigo clicks his tongue and sends you a wink, sweat shining on his forehead. 

“someone has to foot the bill,” you grouse, sourly blaming him for your now stained blouse and sticky chest. then, it hits you—neither of you are drunk enough to leave the bar. after flagging down the bartender and requesting six shots, you look at keigo competitively. “listen up. whoever finishes the shots first wins and doesn’t have to pay.”

“really, a drinking challenge?” keigo grumbles, knowing you have a better chance of winning. normally, he wouldn’t mind paying for you, but you’ve challenged him and might risk covering the bill you’ve both racked up. his head is fuzzy, but one thought is clear: he won’t let you.

“yes, really,” you shoot back, nose crinkling at the smell of the liquor all on its own in the shot glasses. it’s not sweet and there’s no chaser, but you’re determined to fight your gag reflex as it goes down. “ready?”

“i’m ready,” keigo sighs, lifting a shot glass. 

it ends faster than the alcohol was poured. you’re proud to have won, and keigo doesn’t let on the fact that he assisted you. despite the liquid fire burning your throat, you’re happy—too happy; this is the most drunk that keigo has ever seen you, and he’s in the same boat as you, looking for the oars.

he nearly forgets his card when he struggles to his feet and walks out of the bar with you, right into the not-so-dark nighttime of the city. all of the streetlights are fuzzy and the sounds of racing cars are muffled; this is a different area of the city and it takes a moment for you to register where you are in relation to keigo’s apartment.

“dovey,” he says, cheeks flushed a bright red, “do you wanna go to my place?”

strong, possessive hands find your waist and pull you close, pressing your damp chest against his. those gold eyes of his search your face carefully, as if he’s taking in your features and committing them to memory or looking for something he’s intent on finding. 

your hand settles on his cheek and you pull him forward for a kiss on the busy street, not caring about who sees or writes about it. you’re in your own world, thinking of nothing but keigo and his plush, yearning mouth—he’s got the sense to pull away before it goes further, vaguely gesturing for you to turn around. when you oblige, he wraps his arms around you and under your own, holding you securely against his chest.

“i’ll treat you to a little night flight.”

vermilion wings beat the air powerfully, kicking up dust and litter along the sidewalk as keigo lifts you off the ground and into the sky. you’re shocked and speechless as you look over the city from above, thousands of buildings endlessly illuminated with light and color from the entertainment district. “it’s beautiful up here,” you breathe, feeling a little less drunk now that chill air washes over your face and cools you down. “why didn’t you invite me up here sooner?”

keigo laughs, riding on the wind and becoming one with it. “i did, you just never took me up on it. as to why, i don’t know.”

everything’s so much clearer from up here. the view is impeccable, and the air is fresh, free of the different scents of the city — exhaust fumes, restaurants, cigarettes, the occasional incense store. you’re shivering, a little too cold from the breeze blowing through your damp blouse, but being pressed against keigo’s warm chest makes it more bearable. something prods at the back of your drunken mind, a thought you’ve pushed away each time it arrives.

keigo thinks he’s slick. he thinks you don’t notice his lingering gazes, the odd way he tries to snuggle up to you every time you finish having sex, or the acute tenderness written all over his face every now and then when he’s talking to you.

but you do. you notice it, each and every time—in fact, you know exactly what all of this behavior stems from, but you choose to ignore it. clearly, keigo is in love with you. it’s evident in his actions and body language, yet he hasn’t actually said anything. it’s so damn easy to notice and understand because you feel the same, you’re just better at hiding it. something about the idea of a relationship with the no. 2 pro hero of japan is daunting — not only because you’re his agent or you’ll constantly have to face the public, but because there’s a possibility that transitioning into something more from being friends with benefits may be too dramatic of a change. 

“oh, fuck,” keigo groans, getting lost in the myriad of lights and buildings below. he doesn’t know where the hell his apartment is and isn’t sure if he has the time to fly around for a half hour looking for it.

“what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, suddenly aware of the fact that your legs are dangling in the air. in order to preserve his pride and sensitive ego, you don’t bring up anything about him dropping you, but your body tenses.

“it’s the shots,” he grouses, speaking quickly, “they’re gonna come back up.”

“where’s your apartment?”

“i don’t know,” keigo answers, and now you can hear him starting to gag as he forces the contents of his stomach back down. “i can’t keep flying around much longer . . sorry to cut this little flight short, baby.”

“it’s okay, just don’t get sick,” you reassure him slowly, trying to pinpoint your own apartment. surprisingly, the building is a minute or two away from you, if he flies fast enough. “keigo, we’ll head to my place. see that dark building right there, near the red billboard?”

he nods, and the waves of nausea evaporate instantly. after months, he’s finally going to see your apartment—he’s now leagues closer to successfully confessing his feelings to you. keigo’s heavy wings slice through the sky as he hurdles toward your apartment; while the speed is steady, the course is not. from below, people watch as something wobbles through the sky, shifting awkwardly from side to side in a way that isn’t at all graceful . . or intimidating.

you assume he really has to throw up, when it’s quite the opposite. “k-keigo, see that balcony with the potted plants? there’s only one pot of flowers.”

“is that yours?” he asks, struggling to control how giddy he is. “i see it.”

☆ ☆

with the solid, familiar ground of the balcony beneath your feet, things around you are a little steadier. still, the alcohol buzzes persistently in your head and makes you giggle over nothing. it’s warmer now that you’re out of the sky, standing close to keigo and surrounded by all of your potted plants. a pleasant tingling sensation courses through your limbs as your body wobbles, adjusting to being out of the air and the new thoughts that rush into your head.

everything’s still a little fuzzy at the edges, a reminder of your tipsiness and disorientation. keigo wraps a supportive arm around your waist when you nearly stumble to the ground, quietly giggling at your own actions and sighing contentedly in his grip. there’s a beat of silence as your body meshes into his, the kind that settles between two people who’ve just shared a long day, and it feels so natural that your mind absently drifts to two pairs of shoes beside one another and two cups of coffee in the mornings—perhaps you didn’t notice the routine you’ve slipped into, one so innate that it makes everything else feel a little less important.

“hey, did i mention how sexy you are when you’re drunk, dovey?” keigo hiccups, wings quivering as he leans on you for some support, struggling to balance just like you are. his knuckles nudge into your side gently, grin widening as if he’s waiting for a reaction from you. the playful edge to his voice falters momentarily, and you exhale through your nose, shaking your head in disbelief.

“ugh, you must’ve had much more than i thought,” you laugh, kicking the doormat up and retrieving the brass key from beneath it to unlock the door. it’s dark out here on the porch and the same inside, leading you to awkwardly jam the key into the lock.

“you always blow me off,” he sighs ruefully, smile dropping as he notices you using the key upside down. “what, do i embarrass you or something?”

“i-it’s not that,” you breathe, tensing the moment his chest presses against your back and his hand envelops yours to help you with the key. goosebumps rise on the tender flesh of your arms first, then all over your chest, beneath your damp blouse. you recover once the lock gives, sliding the heavy glass door open and catching your breath. “kei, you’ve always got something to say to me.”

“you, of all people, have the power to shut me up whenever you want,” keigo teases, following you into your quaint apartment. instead of appreciating the moment, his mind races to find an answer to the million-dollar question: why were you so intent on keeping him out of here? even in total darkness, the place is cozy, shelves adorned with knickknacks and décor that suits you. totally lost in concentration, keigo’s wings bristle and he accidentally knocks something off a shelf, but manages to catch it in his hand. you’re in the middle of saying something, but he doesn’t even notice, his eyes completely lighting up at the sight of the object.

“is this that glass bird i gave you all those months ago?” 

a nervous laugh rushes past your lips and you nod, hand falling away from the light switch. “yeah, i thought it looked nice up there. it’s pretty.”

“wow, baby,” he gingerly puts the figurine back in its place, elated by the possible significance that this little glass bird holds. “if i’d known you liked it that much, i would’ve showered you in gifts.”

in the middle of unbuttoning your blouse, you trip over your own foot, and keigo, ever the hero, catches you as gently as he did the figurine. his fingers splay across your bare side and you blink up at him, faced with another small gap that’s dying to be closed. “i know what i want as a gift,” you utter, voice low and sultry. the words seem to hang in the air like more of a promise than a request.

keigo can smell the liquor on your breath and the temptation that accompanies it—without a second thought, his lips are on yours and he’s pushing forward with alcohol buzzing in his veins. he’s so full of hope, believing the best over what he’s considered a sign of something more; it feels so right to kiss you like this, with his hands spanning your bare waist and tugging gently at your waistband. it doesn’t quite occur to him that he is inebriated and therefore may not be thinking as sharply as he would if he were sober in this situation. 

you shove forward, pushing him hard into a wall and nipping at his lips hungrily. despite being a little bothered by him being in your apartment, you can’t say you’re not interested in fucking on your own bed for once. a shaky gasp leaves you when you pull away for breath, stomach fluttering delightedly at the hardness of his cock pressing into your thigh.

his breath hitches in his throat, hazy mind racing a thousand miles an hour. the question leaves his lips with more urgency than intended. “i—shit, you really want me to take you right here?”

“in the hallway?” you laugh, astonished. “i’d much prefer my bed, it’s easier for you to fuck me as hard as you want.”

desire and lust conducts your actions, has you dropping your blouse to the floor and unclasping your bra next. each article of clothing falls to the floor in a heap, forming a trail leading to the bedroom door. keigo follows your lead, wings jittering with anticipation as he crosses the threshold. billowy curtains blow up and around the window, lifted by the night breeze, and your room is dark, the details barely visible: keigo notices the many pillows on your bed (so that’s why you were on his ass about buying more than just one) and the full length mirror off to the side.

keigo stops to glance at his reflection in the mirror, fraught with the sculpted curves of muscle—each line a testament to years of hard work and dedication. dark hickeys litter his tanned skin, all left behind from the heat of many moments. momentarily, his eyes shift from the glass to you, perched on the bed and waiting for him. his fingers subconsciously graze over one of the marks, just as he recalls one of your rules, a line that had been drawn in the sand early on—no marks, nowhere near your neck or anywhere at all, even if people couldn’t see them. 

it’s a curious little thing, isn’t it? you clearly have no qualms about marking up his body, but you never let him give you some in return—he hasn’t voiced it, not yet. he exhales softly, feeling the ache between his legs flare once you call his name expectantly. it’s like a switch flips, causing his mind to sharpen and his pulse to quicken when he steps toward you.

bathed in opalescent moonlight, you sit back against your makeshift throne of pillows, eyes raking over him shamelessly, as if you’re looking for something else to sink your teeth into. vermilion feathers puff up and shake themselves out as the bed dips beneath his weight. “come here,” he beckons you lowly, with every intention of making you his. “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

now mussed with abundant wrinkles, the bedspread shifts beneath your bodies as keigo slots himself on top of you and hastily kisses down your neck, lightly nipping at the tender skin, just enough to elicit soft moans from you. doubt melts into desire, lacing his ministrations with something more urgent. for six months, keigo has never seen or left a single mark on you, and tonight, that’s about to change—you’ve already broken the biggest rule you had by bringing him to your apartment, so how much further could this go? 

“yeah, ‘m all yours,” you whine, back arching off the bed when he bites at the soft skin of your tits, tongue lapping away the sticky tequila you spilled earlier. it’s so different—he can’t believe he went this long without making any objections. 

things are heating up fast, and that haziness from the liquor creeps up on both of you, blurring your thoughts just enough. his hips chase yours into the bed, and he eagerly grinds his hardened cock against your thighs, all over them. your voice cracks slightly when you try to moan his name, impatient as always. but keigo decides to take his time with you, kissing and biting longer than usual—he’s in no rush, not yet.

it’s intoxicating in every way possible, causing your body to swelter and thrash beneath his own. keigo’s moving fast, delighting in your pleasure and drinking in every reaction unapologetically. fuck, to think you’d denied him and yourself for so long—he should make it up to you somehow, shouldn’t he?

“dovey,” he pants, fingers slipping under the fabric of the panties appreciatively, “you wore my favorites?”

crimson fabric adorns your waistline, threaded with soft lace. for lingerie, it’s pretty comfortable: it doesn’t floss your asshole like a thong or g-string does, something you’d told keigo when you tried it on in the dressing room. he knew he’d be buying it the moment you stepped out with a bright smile on your face. seeing it on you now is surreal, and he nearly creams his boxers at the sight of it, wings conveying his thoughts for him through a tremble.

your hips rise up and off the bed so he can pull away the last bit of fabric that covers your body. “yeah, but it doesn’t matter now,” you titter cheekily, shockwaves of arousal shooting straight between your thighs.

unceremoniously, your legs are thrown open and keigo’s wings flutter in amusement, always the first thing to react to whatever you have to say. “it matters to them,” keigo comments, jerking a thumb back to point at his pesky wings, “fair warning, this place might be a mess by the end of this.”

“so long as you help me deal with it tomorrow, i don’t mind,” your fingers swipe his cooling spit off your chest, and you’re a little startled as you press at a fresh hickey. it’s sticky, skin now sensitive and tingling in a way that’s just right.

fierce as always, keigo doesn’t waste any time diving between your legs, eager to fuck but even more so to eat your pussy. glistening strings of slick stick to the tender skin of your inner thighs, connecting them to each other thinly until he licks it away. “mmm, dovey,” he moans adoringly, and your pulse quickens, “taste so goddamn sweet.”

keigo’s a proud pussy eater, the filthiest and best you’ve ever met. he could be gasping for air with his face covered in your cum and yet, he’d still have something utterly nasty to say. unapologetically nose deep, he slurps loudly at your soaking cunt and pins your antsy legs down over his shoulders. 

“ngh, keigo,” you thrash forward, thighs squeezing his head like a vice while your hips uncontrollably buck into his face. “please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

“keep squirming around like that and i will,” he grunts, one hand pressing you down into the bed while the other pushes between your thighs. those tenacious gold eyes of his are hooded now, gleaming rapturously as he devours everything you have to give him like he’s been starving. loud, sloppy slurps soon fill the room, falling into cadence with your whiny moans; scarlet feathers ruffle in response to his most favorite sounds, and his hips rut carelessly into the mattress, desperately seeking friction.

your head falls back into the downy pillows, jaw dropping slackly as you unsteadily sneak a hand down to your clit, fingers seeking to rub a lustful itch away. keigo’s fingers wrap around your wrist and snatch it away from your pussy, instead guiding your hand to his head in a show of acquiescence. 

“don’t go doing that,” he groans, pulling up for air and pressing a thumb to your swollen clit hard enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull, “use your words instead, dovey.”

you weakly nod his way, and a sudden, swift slap is delivered right to your clit, the force behind it causing you to see stars. a twisted yelp tears from your throat, and you’re doe eyed when you tearfully glance down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“gotta work on using your words, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing away a stray tear from your cheek. “jus’ trying to make you understand that i need you to tell me what you want.”

there’s a dark edge to his voice that makes the apologetic tone he’s taken on seem ingenuine, almost a little mocking. and yet, you let out a sweet moan, leaning into his touch with a hushed, “yeah, kei. i understand.”

still reeling from the tingling impact of the pussy slap, you guide his head back down between your legs and unsteadily grind into his mouth. he greedily drinks you in, smacking his lips like he can’t get enough of your honeyed taste, and unconsciously pulling you closer. his fingers rub tight circles into your throbbing clit, occasionally pinching the bud to elicit a scream or two before letting go.

keigo had always been taught not to play with his food—but when she’s quaking against his face and sobbing out his name over and over, he just can’t help himself. he’s had a perpetual  mean streak that he’s only ever unleashed during sex with you, taking an overwhelming satisfaction in fucking you dumb and then teasing you about it. he notices the way your thighs tense at either side of his head, the way your head falls back whenever he tenses his tongue.

your clammy fingers claw through blonde curls, saccharine moans spilling from your lips with each ravenous push of his tongue through your folds. it’s a push and pull rhythm that is nothing less than addictive, dragging out the air from your lungs and leaving you utterly breathless. 

“g-god, keigo,” you keen loudly, shoving him down without any regard for his ability to breathe, “need you to—i need you to fuck me with your tongue.”

he groans in response, shamelessly humping the bed now that the ache between his legs has become too prominent to ignore. it flares dangerously every time you say his name or look at him with that blissed out expression written all over your face . . fuck, now you’re telling him exactly what you want and pushing him around, something he’s always enjoyed. his tongue slips into your awaiting cunt and pushes deep, tasting even more of you once he finds that puffy, spongy spot inside of you that makes you clench up every damn time. 

your breaths come in rushed, frantic gasps that soften each word. “fuuuck, right there—yeah, t-that’s it,” your voice shakes involuntarily, tight with inevitable euphoria. “kei, you’re gonna make me cum, hah—‘m real close, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

you chant those last words religiously, and keigo’s offended that you’re thinking he’d ever want to. “on my fuckin’ tongue,” he half groans, half begs, not sure if you even hear him at all.

keigo doesn’t dare to stop until you finally come undone on his tongue, shuddering uncontrollably as he licks you through your high, nearly passing out from a severe lack of oxygen. you’ve got him in a beautiful leglock that he regrets breaking out of, but seeing the dazed, drunken look on your face when he comes up erases the thought from his mind. the entire half of his lower face is covered in your cum, and heat floods your face when his pink tongue darts out to clean up his lips, all while holding your lidded gaze.

a few sanguine feathers float around your face, falling from the air like snowflakes and lightly settling on the bed like rose petals. it seems to make the moment warmer, more romantic as if this is your first time with him—in hindsight, it would’ve been nicer to christen the relationship with a bed of rose petals and scented candles scattered around the room. instead, it was something that happened fast and right after conversations about ex partners.

you pout at him as he positions himself on top of you once again, pressing a wet kiss to your mouth. instinctively, you lick away the mixture of spit and slick he leaves on your lips, tasting yourself on your tongue momentarily. it’s bittersweet and a little syrupy . . maybe he really isn’t lying about you tasting like candy. your thoughts fade away when you catch a glimpse of his vibrant wings — you’ve always seen them, but not like this. this time, you’re up close to them, so close you can see the downy barbs and delicate vanes of each individual feather.

“are your wings . . sensitive?” you ask curiously, voice carrying the barest note of reverence as your hand tentatively inches over his shoulder. after each and every covert tryst of yours, you’ve seen keigo smooth out the feathers or greet you in the morning with stimulating news of his freshly scrubbed wings. but this—touching them—feels like crossing an unspoken threshold.

keigo doesn’t answer, his breath catching in his throat. he’d been in the middle of dazedly tugging his boxers down his body when you’d just dropped a miniature bomb on him. this is the first time that he’s been this astonished, features mellowing profoundly. soon, he finds his voice and uses it, words intertwined with an unexpected tenderness: “ . . it’s alright. they’re just a little sensitive, heh. nobody’s ever touched them before.”

as if they understand you’re talking about them, his wings shift toward your fingers, obviously inviting you to touch them. this is certainly new — for the first time, his defiant wings are actually yearning to be touched, even though they get a little choosy when it’s him who’s brushing his hands through the feathers. gingerly, you reach forward and your hand disappears into the mussed feathers, fingertips brushing lightly against the sensitive skin beneath. the apex of his wings is abundant with small, downy feathers that quiver at your touch.

his eyelids flutter shut and he emits a shy moan, swallowing a sudden heart-shaped lump in his throat. courage swells in your chest and you push further, awed by the all-encompassing softness that meets your fingers. you’d expected them to be coarse, rough from years of flying and smelling earthy or musky. the faint scent of mango wafts through the air, stirring up a sense of familiarity and comfort in your chest, reminding you of all the times he’d protectively wrap his wings around your body as if to steady you. 

“they feel so nice,” you murmur, feeling his cock throb against your thigh. it draws you back into the moment, where you’re naked beneath him with anticipatory legs sprawled open. “so . . soft.”

keigo’s buzzing when you experimentally stroke your fingers through the thin feathers, an intimate form of worship that is only understood between the two of you. “you, ah, didn’t expect them to be?”

a wind created by his flapping wings kick up your curtains and make the metal rings clatter on the bar they’re hanging on. “i thought they’d be a little rougher,” you purr, voice smooth and sultry as your legs lift, locking tightly around his waist. his v-line is visibly sharp and hard to the touch like cut marble against the pillowy skin of your thighs, muscles flexing as he guides his cock to your soaked pussy. 

“i’ll show you rough, dovey,” keigo huffs, smearing his cock with your slick and pulling your legs away from his sides. he’s going to fuck you up, and he can’t do it properly in this position—your feet are thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, thighs folded tightly against your chest. he’s painfully hard, leaking sticky precum all over and trembling by the time he pushes the tip of his cock between your folds. your response is immediate; an eager moan slips out of your mouth, hips bucking impatiently onto his cock.

“damn, baby,” his chest heaves tirelessly, skin flushed pink and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, “you’re ready f’me, aren’t you?”

you look up at him with dewy eyes, electricity shooting through your every nerve. “i-if i was made for—ah—anything, it was taking your cock.”

god, you can’t just say shit like that and cluelessly think he won’t actually fall in love with you—he was only asking for a simple ‘yes’, but now he’s got hearts in his eyes as he finally pushes inside you, swallowing down the sudden urge to blow his load this fast. pulsating, gummy walls wrap around him and seem to suck him deeper without him even moving; he weakly presses his head into your shoulder, gasping frantically as he tries to adjust to the grip you’ve got on him.

“f-fuckkk,” he stutters out, regaining his cool composure after a moment despite the room feeling like a sauna, “i’m gonna hold you to that, you better not forget it.”

he’s relentless, going from zero to sixty in a second with no thoughts of slowing down — he’s jackhammering his hips, curved cock ramming right into your sweet spot and french kissing your cervix. you’re dripping wet, slick pouring down your ass and making each thrust slip ‘n slide all the more smoothly; the bed creaks ceaselessly beneath the weight of your bodies, groaning so loudly it occurs to you that it might just break. but that isn’t even a problem, not with keigo, who’d drop a ton of money on something you could just express the slightest bit of interest in.

“h-holy fuck, keigo,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed, “i could—oh my god, i could cum just from this.”

“yeah, dovey?” he grins, voice tight as he quite literally plunges deeper into heaven. “jus’ from my cock?”

sweat beads on your forehead, making your body swelter with endless steam that seems to vaporize any inhibitions you still had after all the drinks. “nghh, w-wait, ‘m gonna cum—”

“wait?” keigo practically barks out a laugh, shaking his head ruefully at you, “there’s no waiting. i want you to cum right on my cock ‘n i’ll fuck you through it, dovey.” 

you nod with mascara infused tears streaming down your face, legs quaking uncontrollably. everything seems to happen at once — a twinge of pain takes root in the backs of your thighs just as the built-up tension inside you snaps into thousands of sparks, finally igniting your long awaited orgasm.

keigo forces himself to keep his eyes open despite the fact that he’s risking an early orgasm, balls clenching at the sight of you: your lips form an o shape as euphoria washes over you, making your body quiver frenetically. he swallows dryly, closely rocking his hips against yours so you don’t push him out. 

“kei,” is the first thing you sob out when you recover, struggling to catch your breath with every thrust fucking the air out of your lungs. you’re sensitive all over, skin prickling with heat that doesn’t cool even with his wings creating a draft. 

he’s straining tight at the seams, heart pounding in his ears as he thinks of nothing but you.

you, you, you.

with your sweet, glossy-lipped smile in the mornings and the voice of a vixen when you innocently call his name. you’re nothing less than beautiful beneath him, clawing at his shoulders and staring up at him with those glazed over, blissed out eyes while your body molds against his. it’s a shape he knows well, one he’s pictured in his head when he’s all alone, one he’s been dreaming about whenever his eyes close.

his breath catches in his throat. “haah, fuck—dovey, i can’t hold it anymore.”

“right fuckin’ there,” your voice cracks into a squeal, “mhm, jus’ cum inside me.”

“you mean it?” keigo asks dumbly, nearly melting at the wild look you throw him in response.

“yeah, kei—shit, ‘m gonna cum again,” the words rush past your lips, urgent as ever and spurring him on to keep going, “i want you to—i need you to fill me up.”

something sweet flashes behind his gold eyes and he tucks his face into your shoulder, breath coming in frantic pants while he gasps your name. you’re practically in your own world, moaning loudly and dragging his slim hips closer to your own. when his cock starts to twitch deep inside you, the heel of your palm digs into his lower back, forcing his tip right against your cervix. he’s burning hot, utterly lost in you with no way of finding his way out — cum spurts from his cock and the spasms wrack his body, each stripping away a layer of him until he’s left with only his heart in his hands. 

“i fucking love you,” it rushes out and he doesn’t regret it for a second, “god, baby. i love you so much.”

your eyes roll back as your body surrenders to the toe-curling sensation of your third orgasm of the night, euphoria hitting you from all directions and rendering you clinically cock drunk. you muster just enough strength to wipe the salty tears away from your eyes, teeth chattering just the slightest bit as you drag in a gasping breath. 

after a moment, you yawn, stretching out your folded body and nudging at his chest to get him to lay down beside you. “ooh, that was great, kei. there’s no fucking way i’m walking tomorrow.”

coming down is the hardest part.

keigo’s shaken to his core by your flippant response to his confession, but most of all, he’s deeply embarrassed to have said something—no, to have thought something this stupid. finally, he’s getting a taste of karma from all of his failed relationships; he wishes that he could allow himself enough pity to ask the abyss of the universe what he did to deserve this. the heat that had once been sexy dissipates immediately, leaving him as cold as a corpse. he rolls over to the side, letting go of you and staring up at the ceiling, laying on top of wings that don’t even have enough life to twitch. pathetic tears prick at the corners of his marked eyes, and for the first time, he’s happy that the lights are off.

“keigo? did you hear me?”

“sorry, i didn’t. what was it you were saying?” he drags a forearm across his sweaty forehead, overlooking the tender inflection in your voice.

“i just . . i don’t know. that was really good,” he may not hear it, but you do. quickly, you clear your throat and tug up the blankets, inviting him to crawl underneath with you. “goodnight, kei.”

he should bite his tongue, but he doesn’t; this is the last time. “goodnight, dovey.”

☆ ☆

after tossing and turning the whole night, keigo finally decides to end the torture at 5:20 am the next morning. it’s still dark out, and he figures that he can easily slip away under the cover of night. he’s got a mild hangover, but it won’t impair him, not when he’s determined to keep it together until he gets back home.

soberly, he absorbs his surroundings and recalls the memories that have been plaguing him for hours. his body tenses, thick cords of muscle pulling taut as if he’s bracing against the impact of a punch, and like it has countless times before, the scene replays in his head again. his emotional, devoted admission of love was something you’d completely ignored—again and again, you’ve only ever shown an interest in his body.

in his chest, he feels his heart clench horribly as he looks over your sleeping form. you’re curled up in yourself under the warm blankets, turned toward him with a serene look on your face that makes it all the more difficult to slip out from under the sheets and into the cold. like a cat, he silently pads into the hallway and collects his clothes as if he was never there. he’s inches away from the back door he’d been so excited to step through last night when he stops in his tracks, head hanging lowly as pangs of guilt hit him like fists. it’s not right to just leave you like this, not without making an effort to say some kind of goodbye.

keigo hesitates in the hallway, feet seemingly glued to the floor. all he can hear are loud alarm bells—every instinct is begging him to leave, to spare himself the imminent heartbreak of going back in that room to see you. against his better judgment, he eventually tiptoes into your room with every intention of giving you one final kiss. at your bedside, he bends forward and presses his lips to your forehead; the kiss is entirely chaste, the brief touch carrying a blend of quiet grief and the tenderness of a love that was bound to fall through.

like most things in his life, this kiss doesn’t go as planned. there’s a momentary flash of blue and white—he’s managed to give you a strong, accidental static shock with an innocent kiss at 5:22 in the morning. you blearily wake up, squinting up at him in confusion and making out the high collar of his hero jacket.

“good morning, keigo,” you stretch under the blankets and reach for his hand, “what—what time is it?”

“it’s early,” he answers unsurely, sitting down on the foot of the bed. his wings droop, vermilion plumes seemingly inanimate. “y’know what, don’t worry about it. go back to sleep, baby.”

“but where’re you going?” you sit up abruptly, eyes narrowing at his fully clothed body. a glance over the edge of the bed reveals that he’s even got his boots on! 

“i’ve got patrol, silly,” keigo picks the easiest excuse out of an array of choices, and you sniff it out immediately. “i’m a hero, remember?” silence hangs in the air for a moment before you slowly speak up, sounding more confused than anything else. “but saturdays and sundays are your off days.”

keigo pauses, tongue sliding over his teeth as he contemplates what to say now that he’s been caught in his lie. like an idiot, he’s managed to trap himself. you scoff, cognitive functions coming to back to life as the final vestiges of sleep fade away into the ruined morning. did he actually expect you to wake up naked and hungover, all by yourself?

“okay, you caught me. i’ve got some stuff to deal with.”

“this early? c’mon, why’re you in such a rush?”

ultimately, it’s best for the both of you if he pulls away.

keigo’s usual smile drops and he sighs, “i’ve got shit to do, okay?”

it’s this early in the morning, and your blood pressure is already spiking in a way that is most undesirable. “are you fucking kidding me, keigo?”

the way you say his name so angrily, so accusingly—it fucking irks him, causing the corners of his lips to pull downwards into a scowl. he’s not really angry at you, he’s angry at himself for causing this dilemma to begin with, but you don’t know that. how could you really know anything about him aside from the way he likes to fuck?

“why are you getting so damn pissy? i’m going to leave whether you want me to or not, okay?”

stark naked, you exit the safety of the bed and make a beeline to your dresser, where you yank open drawers in search of clothes. keigo stands, watching longingly as you pull on some panties and a bra.

“i’m getting pissy because you wanted to take off so i could wake up naked and alone! you didn’t even say goodbye.”

“i was trying to,” keigo argues back, jumping to his feet, “but you were the one who ruined that for yourself, didn’t you?”

“a kiss isn’t enough!” you snap, now covered in a loose t shirt and pajama shorts. “couldn’t you have just waited a few hours? maybe then you could’ve told me why you were leaving.”

“what the hell? so you’re saying i need a reason to go back to my own house?”

“i don’t see why you think you can lie to me!” your voice raises furiously, words sharp as daggers, “i’m not just your agent, keigo. i know you, i care about you! don’t you get that?”

it’s quickly evolved into a dangerous game of catch, the pressure to be the one to drop the ball growing heavier atop his shoulders with each passing moment. painfully, a vein in his forehead pulses from the headache brought on by the hangover and the memories that follow it. it’s been hours and he can’t seem to shake away the pain that gnaws away at him. he’s so stupid.

“yeah, i know you are,” keigo grits out bitterly, “all i wanted to do was leave.”

“so abruptly?” you press him for answers, flicking on a small lamp so you can see him clearly. deep wrinkles span the entirety of each article of clothing that hangs on his body, but it’s the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes that makes him look unusually sloppy, getting you to pause as you take the sight of him in. concerned for his wellbeing, you soften, body relaxing. “what—keigo, what’s wrong?”

“it’s just the hangover,” he squints defensively, backing away and into a corner, “anyway, you got your goodbye, didn’t you?”

your gentle, worried face falls away. it hurts more than any injury he’s ever gotten, but he has to keep the walls up to protect himself from the pain even though guilt slips in through the cracks like mustard gas. with a pinched sigh, keigo backs away from the wall, wings limply hanging behind him as he prepares to exit your bedroom with no intention of ever coming back.

he’s blindsiding you, lying to you out of nowhere and slipping through your fingers like steam, too elusive for his own good. without a second thought, you close the distance and grab firmly at his wrist, a gesture that would’ve worked once. “i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters without looking over his shoulder, snatching away from you as if he’s been burned. “i just . . i can’t.”

“what’re you—what do you mean, keigo?” he looks out into the distance of the hallway, focusing on a specific floor tile and tracing its grooves so he doesn’t have to see your face. just from your voice, he knows you must be absolutely crushed. for courage, he allows himself a steady inhale before stepping past the threshold and leaving you in the lurch.

“this,” keigo turns, gesturing wildly and spitting out the words as if everything that’s happened in this room is horribly filthy, “it’s bullshit, all of it. i’m done, got that?”

there’s a beat of silence, and keigo stays a second too long.

“keigo, you’re breaking my heart here.”

you’re probably referring to the sex, aren’t you? surely you’re disappointed by the fact that you’ll no longer be fucking the no. 2 hero, petting his wings and calling him by a name few are able to.

“oh, come on,” he looks over you sourly, shaking his head as his eyes span the entirety of your body, “you’re pretty. you’ll find yourself a new fuck buddy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

immediately, he regrets saying it, feeling a rush of nausea in his stomach—he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

you blink back tears, his stare suddenly invasive and hurtful. “i don’t want a new fuck buddy, i want you.”

“tough shit,” keigo grunts, wings drooping further down. the longest feathers now drag along the floor, picking up whatever there is to offer. “i’m done being friends with benefits.”

“i just—all this fucking time, i’ve been wasting my time wanting to be with you,” the words tumble out of you bitterly, filling up the space between you with everything you’ve ever wanted to say, and his ears prick, grasping at a possible implication beneath all of it, “god, to think i was afraid we wouldn’t be able to become something more—all of this was a mistake.”

keigo pauses, heart pounding in his ears and possibly affecting his ability to hear. “you’re . . in love with me?”

“i was,” the correction is swift and choked, reverberating straight to his core and making his body stiffen. it hurts more than anything to hear, carrying a horrible weight, the kind that makes him realize you’ve given up on him.

“then why didn’t you—that doesn’t make any sense,” he gasps, the newfound information hitting him like a freight train, “if you were in love with me, why didn’t you—how couldn’t you have said something?”

“what’re you talking about?” you hiss, harshly rubbing away the tears in your eyes with the back of your hand. keigo’s bewildered now, face devoid of anything but shock and some kind of adoration as he seems to process something inside his head.

he stares at you desperately, struggling for the right words, “fuck, dovey, why didn’t you say anything last night?”

“don’t call me that,” you snap, the petname far too fond for a moment like this one, “why would i possibly have said something last night?”

keigo falters, and his voice cracks as the words rush out like a torrent. “i told you that i—god, i fucking told you i loved you. didn’t you hear me?” 

oh.

oh.

his heart squeezes painfully in his chest when the realization washes over your face, making him realize the gravity of this misunderstanding—you didn’t hear him.

wearily, you take a seat on the edge of the bed. he sees the way your spine curves forward, and bites down hard on his lower lip once the first sob slips out of you. in an instant, keigo’s beside you and pulling you into his arms, shaking all over. he doesn’t know what to say, but his voice breaks with endless regret when he finally comes up with something. “i’m sorry, god, i’m so sorry,” tears race down his cheeks and into your hair as he murmurs despairingly, “i thought you didn’t care, i didn’t know—”

there’s nothing more to say. 

keigo tries anyway, brokenly whispering apologies that fade into the air like smoke. his arms are tight around your body, holding you closely — it’s an unspoken promise to never let you go again. for the very first time, he truly melts into you without the walls in the way or the burden of hidden feelings. when you slowly relax against him and your sobs become quieter, something shifts in the air. vermilion wings, once held down by the weight of everything they’ve been carrying, finally come back to life. wings that have had no other purpose but to protect keigo now extend outwards to protect you too, soft feathers cradling you tenderly in the quiet of the morning. just over the horizon, the sun begins to rise, bathing the city in the light of dawn and new beginnings.

[swiftzeldas]

Not to be a skincare girlie on main but I have been trying all freaking summer to find moisturizer/sunscreen for my face that work and don’t make me look bright red and shiny and I’ve bought so many products that I don’t like….anyway today I bought Clinique moisture surge and my skin feels great, soft and moisturized without looking greasy and inflamed. Why do I ever try anything else.

[lateseptemberdawn]

Ngl bad parents give me such an ick like stay tf away from me ew

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied to me about his human job?

I (542 vampire) and my husband (260 vampire) have been together for a little over two centuries. There’s a saying in the vampiric community that it takes a century for a tryst to become an enduring partnership and another century to become soulmates. I thought that was true and that Matthew (using his real name because fuck you, Matthew) and I would be together forever…until this week.

First, let me explain a few things to the mortals here. I don’t mean that negatively – I came here specifically to get the opinion of those with a finite lifespan. However, I want to be fair to Matthew as much as possible and some of his decisions are very immortal-minded.

Both Matthew and I are vampires who have chosen to forsake some of our powers in exchange for the ability to daywalk. We made the transition together on our 100th anniversary almost 115 years ago. It wasn’t an easy transition for me. I was very dependent on human blood and I spent the first twenty years in almost constant sleep as my body adjusted to running off of less lunar magic and more solar magic.

It really felt like I was losing everything. My body got physically weaker and my powers began to disappear one by one. It felt like every time I woke, another part of me was missing. One day I could turn into a wolf, the next I could barely turn into a vapor. I could command a legion of undying servants, and then I could barely convince the mailman he didn’t see me levitate down from the second floor.

Matthew, however, took to daywalking like a werewolf to a sheep farm. He barely seemed to feel the pain of losing his power, maybe because he was so much younger than me. Whatever the case, he was out all the time once he stabilized. He would be gone for days sometimes and when he came back it was with fantastic stories about the humans’ new inventions or the new structures being built in whatever town we were in.

I’m not saying I regret transitioning. Just that Matthew and I had very different experiences. It felt like he barely changed at all while my entire being got rewritten. Being immortal makes you comfortable in your own skin. I never doubted myself or my power after I turned 100. But becoming a daywalker made me feel like I was being born as a human again. It was humiliating and vulnerable. I have to admit there were times I resented how easily Matthew did it. I blamed him for not supporting me like I thought he should. I would daydream about draining a human in front of him, showing him what I thought of his fascination with them. I had all sorts of vile and vengeful thoughts. I’m not proud of the person I was and now I’m grateful Matthew wasn’t there to see the lows I sunk to.

Despite all my awful thoughts, I didn’t quit. I don’t know why, but I didn’t. I stuck with it and, day by day, things got easier.

After 26 years I began to stabilize. The benefits of being a daywalker slowly blossomed before me.  Now I can say that I am completely happy with my daywalker status and all the changes it’s brought.

I am the most mentally stable I have been since my Turning in 1482. It’s like I’m awake. The fits of rage that used to consume me for months at a time have completely disappeared. I don’t experience the same level of obsession I used to which has freed up a lot of my time that I used to spend stalking my victims.

However, that drastic of a change would be challenging in any relationship. Matthew and I ended up together because of my obsessive nature. Our relationship became strained when that part of me went dormant. He expected me to follow his immersion into the human world just as I had followed him in his revenge quest against his Master. He expected me to support him wholeheartedly and with everything I was. He wanted sacrifices from me that I used to not even flinch at before making. But something was just…different. We wanted different things. I wanted different things.

Matthew was obsessed with being the perfect human. He craved full immersion. He still makes it a point to get a human job every twenty years or so. Me? I’m happy to live off our investments and some mild mind control while enjoying the art and theater community the humans have evolved.

It got bad. Some years, we spent like ghosts in our own house, drifting by each other without a glance. Other years, it was like we were spies behind enemy lines. He would do whatever he could to thwart me and I would go out of my way to ridicule him. Our vitriol poisoned the earth. Matthew didn’t speak to me for a full decade when that poison killed off an entire town.

About twenty years ago, it all came to a head. We had a serious sit-down talk about our relationship. It wasn’t easy. What they say about teaching an old dog new tricks is sometimes true. Matthew wanted me to be as involved with the humans as he was. He wanted me to care about them like he did. I wanted him to travel with me like we used to and not just hop from town to neighboring town (which he did to maintain a human identity with references so he could keep working). When it became clear that we were at an impasse, I brought up the idea of separation.

Separating in the vampiric world isn’t easy. There are a lot of alliances and blood oaths to be considered. Over the two centuries we spent together, we became known as a unit to a number of supernatural entities that we maintain an uneasy truce with. Separating would mean creating new oaths and alliances with the same individuals. And there was no guarantee that those individuals would make new pacts with both of you. A LOT of vampire couples end up in blood feuds while separating. Neither of us wanted that.

There was also, of course, the emotional side of things. While a lot of immortals tend to only feel muted emotions (especially vampires as old as me), Daywalking had made both of us more sensitive than we’d been before. We were both attached to the memories we shared and neither of us could imagine life without the other. After 200 years together, it felt like Matthew was my right arm, and I his. When I brought up separation, we both felt it like we were discussing an amputation.

After about a year of talking, we finally reached an agreement. We didn’t want to separate, and so we would compromise. I wouldn’t interfere with any of Matthew’s human jobs for the 15-17 years if he could hold them without arousing suspicion. In exchange, he would take a year off to go traveling with me before finding another town for us to live in. In between my trips, he would go to plays and galas with me to enjoy human artistry at least once a month.

Maybe our deal was in his favor. At the time, it felt practical and fair. A year of traveling wouldn’t undo Matthew’s string of connections. We would still see each other frequently by going on dates that I liked. Matthew would get to stay immersed in the human world at the level he wanted, and I could stay within my comfort zone.

Which brings me to my current problem.

We are currently at the start of one of Matthew’s work cycles. He’s been everything from a fireman to a politician to a subway worker to a barista. He craves knowledge and connection to a terrifying degree. If it weren’t for how we move every 20 years and he goes without protest, I’d call it obsession.

This cycle, Matthew told me he was going to be a teacher. I was hesitant. While the humans have become more tolerant and less violent over the years, that doesn’t mean they will tolerate us near their young. Enough humans know about vampires that staking in the modern era is a real possibility. Matthew could incite an angry mob against us or, heaven forbid, get a vampire hunter on our tail. I have yet to be shot, but I hear that they have silver bullets that hurt like Hell.

When I voiced my protests, Matthew reminded me about our agreement. He said that I wouldn’t interfere with his jobs and he’d go to all the plays I liked. He even pointed out that, as a teacher, he could get us into high school plays and expositions. I was uneasy, but agreements are penultimate to immortals. I silenced my objections and let him get a job as a science teacher at a local high school.

When Michael has had jobs in the past, I’ve never really paid attention. One time he was a state senator for ten years and I never even heard him speak. I didn’t consider it worth my time to hear whatever his facsimile of a human would say. Real humanity is in the art they create, not in the parody Michael enacts.

But this one…I couldn’t ignore this one. Maybe it was because I was still uneasy about his proximity to human young or maybe I could sense his lies even at the beginning. Whatever the case, I watched him.

The first thing I noticed was the hours. He would go to work early and would often come home when it was time for us to sleep. When I asked him about it, he said that he wasn’t used to grading and that he had underestimated what it took to put a good lesson plan together. I visited some online forums and that’s apparently reasonable for first year teachers.

He would also sometimes go in on the weekends. He missed one of our dates because there was a “grading emergency” that needed his immediate attention. Something about a student’s test getting lost and then found and he needed to input their grade before the deadline which was on Saturday. Humans like silly rules like that so I didn’t even look that one up. I just reminded him that he couldn’t miss our dates again or else he was breaking our deal. He apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again.

Then about three months into his new job, the phone calls started. We have a private room in our house for when we need to talk without any visitors overhearing. Michael moved all his school supplies in there, saying that he needed a silent space to concentrate on his grading. Whenever he got a call, he would never answer it in front of me. Instead, he’d say “Sorry, work” and just go into his office.

I also noticed that he didn’t dress very professionally. Human fashion changes quickly so it didn’t register at first. A sweatshirt here and there slipped past me, and also the Gucci slides. When he started wearing baggy jeans and jerseys to work, I noticed. I may not be up to date on all the newest fashions, but I do go to classy events. I know what a slob looks like and it didn’t sit right with me that he was wearing that to school. When I asked him about it, he always had an excuse. “This is what everyone wears” and “It’s a theme day” or, bafflingly, “It’s spirit week!”

I tried to leave it alone. The reason we have stayed together for so long is because of our agreement to not interfere in each other’s lives. But between his hours, the phone calls, and his appearance, something didn’t add up.

Then, last Thursday, he missed another one of our dates. We were supposed to go to the Nutcracker together. Even though I prefer matinees (when the cast is fresh), I agreed to get us tickets for the evening show so that he wouldn’t have to leave work early. When he wasn’t there at 7pm, I called him and he didn’t answer. Then, when I called him again, his phone was switched off.

I was furious. I spend nearly two decades in these tiny towns so he can live his human fantasy and he can’t even show up for one two hour show? It was the first time since becoming a daywalker that I felt that angry. I was scared about what I might do, so I made myself go home to wait for him.

Only, he never came home that night. At 3am, he sent me a text apologizing and promising to make up our date on Saturday. But the Nutcracker was only playing until Friday and that would be too little, too late. To be honest, it already was. I texted him that and he never responded.

He never ended up coming home last weekend. I texted and called him probably a dozen times and he never responded. I got angrier and angrier as the days dragged by. Did he think I was someone to be taken lightly? Did he not realize that the fragile agreement between us was all that was keeping us from separation?

Yesterday (Monday), I couldn’t take it anymore. If he wasn’t going to come home or respond to my messages, then I would go to him. If he was so obsessed with this new job that he would ignore me for it, then I knew exactly where to find him.

I arrived at his school at 10am. I researched enough to know how to go to the office and sign myself in. I asked the office assistant which room Mr. Duetto was in.

The lovely young woman looked confused. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give that information out to anyone but family,” she said.

“I am his only family,” I said.

She clicked a few more keys and looked more confused. “His paperwork only shows his mother, Delilah Duetto.”

That’s right. His mother. But I still didn’t understand then.

“That’s me,” I said.

“You are not the mother of 17-year-old.”

“I’m his wife,” I said.

She was upset by that. I won’t bore you with every detail, but I had to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call the police. I may not look like someone who has a teenager, but I also don’t look like a teenager. I ended up having to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call human CPS on an apparent adult swearing she was married to a minor.

I went home and broke into his office. There weren’t any lesson plans. There were no graded papers. There were syllabus from different classes, homework with his name on it, and a few polaroids taped to the bottom of his desk of him at a party with children.

Human children. I don’t honestly know which is worse.

(EDIT: I know the child part is the worst part. I misspoke because of my anger. It’s not the humans’ fault that my husband is a pervert.)

I broke into his laptop and used that to check his text messages. He’s been texting like a high schooler. He’s been to parties with them, listened to their problems and even fabricated a few of his own. He’s caught in some sort of weird love triangle where a freshman girl likes him but his “best friend” likes her. He has texted both of them about it, promising his “bro” that nothing is happening and then turning around and leading this girl-child on.

Some choice quotes: I should know better than to get close with you. You and I come from very different worlds

To which she replied, lol maybe we should let our worlds collide

!!!!

I find the entire situation disgusting. Matthew is several centuries older than them and he definitely knows better. He’s literally wearing the sheep’s fleece amongst the flock. He has no business forming relationships with human children and even less pretending to be one of them. He’s not a baby. He is over two centuries old!

What is he doing flirting with a child? It’s vile and disgusting and I was set to kill him for it.

I confronted him about it when he came home last night. I told him that he was sick and dangerous and if he loved humans then he needed to stop immediately. I told him we either left town today or I would make sure he never set foot back in that school in a way he really wouldn’t like.

 He threw a huge tantrum over my invading his privacy. He shouted at me that I had broken my promise to never interfere in his job. He called me controlling and crazy.

I told him he was the crazy one for chatting up a child. He told me he wasn’t, she was just his friend. I asked him to read their texts out loud if he was being so friendly. I also pointed out that there was no way a 260-year-old vampire is a child’s friend.

He told me I was a hypocrite because I basically cradle robbed him (we’re almost 300 years apart.) He said if anyone was disgusting, it was me for taking advantage of him.

I pointed out that he wasn’t a child, he was over 60 and had already been a vampire for four decades. He argued that that was basically being a child in vampire terms.

I was so angry at that point that the house was shaking. I told him if he felt that way, then we could get divorced right then and there. That that was what I wanted to do anyway because I couldn’t be married to a pedophile.

He asked me if I was seriously going to start a blood feud over him immersing himself in human society. I said no, I’m starting a blood feud because he’s become every predatory stereotype humans have of vampires.

He called me a hypocrite again and told me he was leaving. He said not to call him unless I was ready to apologize. I told him that the next time he sees me, he’d better run before I showed him the real difference between us. And it wasn’t just 300 years.

When I calmed down, doubt started creeping in. From an immortal perspective, what he’s doing isn’t really wrong. I hate to say it, but most immortals don’t view human lives as significant. I know a few vampires who would say that divorcing because he’s playing with his food is idiotic.

Plus, there’s the agreement to consider. During our fight, Matthew pointed out that being a student is a job to humans. So therefore I didn’t have the right to interfere. A big part of me thinks that’s bullshit, but a small part of me wonders if he’s maybe right about that?

I also have to ask myself why this even bothers me. I’m the one in the relationship that is aloof from humans. I’m the one that’s always saying we are from different worlds (Yeah, he stole that from me) and for good reason. 

But over the years, I’ve become fond of humans. No immortal makes art like them. I may not remember my time as a mortal, but there are works that give me a sense of nostalgia. Sometimes I think I can remember being a child myself, standing in a field like in Monet painting, staring at the wheatstacks and waiting for the miller to come. 

The thought of Matthew playing with them makes me sick. It’s like even after all the years of him living amongst them, he thinks of them as props in his twisted play. It’s even worse that he’s doing this to children. 

I can’t help but think something went really wrong with my husband when I wasn’t looking. At the very least, I’m planning on divorcing him. But would I be the asshole if I killed him too?

 Separating from him will be violent and messy. There will likely be human casualties. But I don’t see any other way. So, I ask.

AITA for divorcing my husband for lying to me about his human job?

----

Thanks for reading! I loved answering some of the responses I got when I first posted this over on my Patreon (X)!

These collaborative story telling pieces are the highlight of my week. Next week's story is about a witch who wants to know if she should attend her high school reunion even though she's responsible for stripping two former classmates of their magic...

Please check that out here (X) if you''d like early access! Otherwise I'll see y'all next week :)

[luvergirl-866]

I think you'd cook a one short one about the first time Paige saw Azzi's belly button piercing

don’t need to breathe (when you look at me)

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, needles, FLUFF, smut

a/n - this is my fourth time trying to upload. lately, whenever i try to upload anything more than 100 or so words, tumblr gets slow and then crashes and i lose the whole thing!! it sucksss 😩. pls send help. anyway, hope you like! (also this is unedited as fuck)

Azzi absolutely hates needles.

It’s something she’s always known about herself—when she was getting her four-year-old vaccines, she fought the nurses holding her down and ripped the needle out of her leg while screaming like a banshee.

Safe to say, whenever she finds herself around needles, it’s usually against her will.

Which is exactly why she wasn’t brave enough to get her ears pierced until she was fifteen. It’s also exactly why, when her mother brings up a belly button piercing the summer before college, her reply is an immediate and adamant no.

“Why not?” Katie asks, as if she doesn’t know her daughter at all. “I had one when I was around your age.”

Azzi shudders at the mere thought of a piece of metal forced through the inches of skin between her navel and belly button. “No way, Mom.”

“I gotta say, I agree,” her dad pipes up, and usually Azzi doesn’t favor his opinions on these things (crop tops were a no until she was thirteen) but today, she smiles gratefully at him. “She doesn’t need nothing like that ‘till she’s older.”

“Tim,” Katie says exasperatedly, “she’s an adult.”

“Yeah, but not really,” Tim says, throwing his arm around Azzi’s shoulders. Azzi burrows into her dad’s chest in an attempt to hide from her scary mom with the scary needles.

“It was just a suggestion,” Katie sighs, reaching into the oven to pull out the pot pie. “You don’t have to if you don’t want it. They’re just cute, is all.” Placing the hot pan on the stove, Katie turns back to the two of them, smiling slyly at Azzi. “I’m sure your girlfriend would think so, too.”

Admittedly, that thought itself has the cogs in Azzi’s mind turning.

————————————

Later that same day, at around 10:00, Azzi’s phone buzzes with a text from none other than Paige Bueckers, also known as Azzi’s aforementioned girlfriend.

I miss you

The two of them had woken up on FaceTime that morning, and had been texting throughout the day, but it’s been a few hours since their last conversation so of course it’s the first thing Paige would say to her. She’s never liked conventional conversation starters, anyway.

Before Azzi can respond, three other texts come in tandem:

send me pics

WHOAAA pause, not those kinda pics. I just miss looking at u or whatever

but if you wanna send those kinda pics i wont complain 😛

Azzi rolls her eyes, albeit affectionately, at her phone screen. A pang of longing shoots through her stomach, reminding her just how much she misses her stupid, dorky girlfriend.

Typing quickly so that Paige won’t beat her to it, Azzi types: I miss you too p

And then, you’re like a teenage boy btw

The response comes fast: rudeee I just wanna see my girlfriend’s beautiful face

are you ovulating or something?

whoa howd you know

Once again, Azzi rolls her eyes. And then her thumb hovers over the camera app before she opts for Facetime instead, pressing the button and smiling when Paige answers halfway through the first ring.

“—out of my room, seriously!” Azzi catches the second half of Paige’s sentence, and immediately knows who she’s talking to—that tone is reserved for one particular little boy.

“Hi,” Azzi says, and Paige’s attention snaps down to her phone, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“Hi, baby,” she says softly, and then there’s giggling in the background and Paige looks away again. “Drew, for real, leave me alone!”

“I wanna say hi to Azzi, too,” Drew’s playful whine comes distantly over the speaker.

“Aw, let him say hi,” Azzi argues.

Paige glares down at her, but then Azzi gives her a stern look—she’s a firm believer that Paige needs to be nicer to perfect little Drew, even though she herself isn’t a saint to her own brothers by any stretch. Sighing dramatically, Paige passes the phone over to Drew, whose smiling little face appears on the screen. “Hi, Azzi!”

“Hey, Drewski,” Azzi replies, ignoring Paige’s mumbling in the background. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Today I beat Paigey in 1v1 and then she beat me up and knocked my tooth out.”

“Drew!” in a second, the phone is ripped away from him and back to Paige, who’s looking urgently at the phone. “He’s lying, he lost that tooth naturally.” She looks up, presumably at her hysterically laughing little brother. “And you didn’t beat me, I let you win.”

“Hey! I’m gonna tell Dad you said that!”

“He can’t do anything to me, I’m an adult.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that, too!”

“Well I’ma tell him you’re bothering me if you don’t get out my room!”

Finally, there’s the aggressive sound of the door slamming shut, and Paige smiles triumphantly down at the phone.

Azzi leans back against her pillows, shaking her head. “Fighting with him as if he isn’t seven years old.”

“Hey, I gotta do what I gotta do,” Paige replies, the background changing as she moves across her room to set the phone on her desk. “I’on like him around when we call.”

“Why not?” Azzi asks, even though she already knows the answer to that.

“‘Cus sometimes I wanna say things to you that nobody else should hear.” Paige grins devilishly, but there’s something a little heavier in her eyes, and that longing curls a little more dangerously in Azzi’s stomach now.

It’s been a long time, but they’ve yet to resort to phone sex. With Stewie curled at her feet and her brothers in the next rooms, Azzi decides she’d like to keep it that way.

“Again, teenage boy,” she teases, and it successfully changes the atmosphere.

Paige gasps and plops down in her desk chair in order to get a closer look at her. “That’s actually offensive.”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi says, watching as Paige fiddles with something on her desk before picking up her gaming headset, and her mouth drops. “You’re not about to game while we’re on call right now.”

Freezing, Paige stares at her, slowly setting the headset down, “What? No, ‘course not.”

Azzi would call Paige a teenage boy again but she thinks it might actually give her a complex, so she decides against it. “Hey,” she says, already feeling her palms get sweaty at the thought of what her mom said earlier, “what do you think about belly piercings?”

“For you or for me?”

“In general.”

Paige shrugs, leaning back in her chair. “I dunno. They’re cute. Why?”

Azzi bites her lip. “My mom thinks I should get one.”

“Yeah?” Paige wiggles her eyebrows at her. “That’d be hot.”

“You think?”

Paige nods decidedly. “Yeah, I do. But you’d never get one, right? I mean, you cried last time you had to get your blood drawn.”

Azzi waves her off. “That was a long time ago.”

“That was four months ago, baby.”

“Okay, whatever.” Azzi flushes at the memory, how she and Paige had gone together for their physicals and how Azzi had been shaking with nerves while Paige sat cool as a fucking cucumber. Paige had teased her about it when the tears started, but she still wiped them away tenderly and later, Azzi heard her asking the nurse if they really had to do the needles. “Maybe I will do it.”

Paige looks at her with this doubt in her eyes that she hates. “You will, huh?”

“Maybe,” Azzi reiterates a little nervously, because she can’t promise anything, not when it comes to a long-ass needle going through her flesh. Okay, so, maybe not.

But Paige is almost smirking now and so she says, “I’m seriously thinking about it.”

Paige nods at her, clearly bemused. “Sure, sure. You, the girl who has a scar on her thigh from ripping a needle out of it—“

“I was four!”

“Still,” Paige laughs. “No way you’re getting that piercing. Maybe stick with a lil nose stud, that’d be cute.”

Deep down, Azzi feels a certain tug of competitiveness—all too familiar when it comes to her girlfriend. And, in this case, dangerous, because when Paige challenges her to something, she refuses to lose.

But, this isn’t a challenge. This is just Paige being Paige. It’s not a challenge until someone says—

“I’ll bet you twenty bucks you get a belly piercing,” Paige jokes. And dread curls in Azzi’s abdomen. Because there it is.

Scary needles and crushing anxiety aside—suddenly, Azzi needs that twenty dollars. And she will absolutely not be losing it.

————————————

Azzi is in her room, trying and failing for the third time this week to pack for college, when her mother appears in the doorway. “Hey, Az.”

“Yeah?” Azzi asks without looking up.

“Can you come help me unload the groceries? I can’t carry them all by myself.”

“Uh,” Azzi glances at her suitcase—which needs to have her whole life packed away inside it within the week—and decides it can wait, “yeah, sure.”

She doesn’t notice the twinkle in Katie’s eye as she gets up and heads out into the hallway. As she walks down it, she registers the muttered sounds of her family and realizes she hasn’t heard the dogs in a few moments. Turning back to her mom, she says, “Where are the dogs?”

“Oh, we put ‘em in our room,” Katie says, taking Azzi by the shoulders and ushering her down the hallway.

Azzi furrows her brow. “Why?”

Katie pushes her out into the living room and the first thing she notices is her brothers and dad all gathered there, watching her with—excitement? Anticipation? And she’s about to ask why when Katie takes her by the shoulders once again and turns her so she’s facing the front door, and there’s Paige, knelt down, focused on untying her shoes.

Azzi doesn’t move, because is this real? This has gotta be an stress-induced hallucination, right?

But, no. It’s real. She knows because Paige, her perfect, oblivious girlfriend, hasn’t noticed her yet, and is chattering away like she always does: “So then I was like, yo, it’s not my fault you didn’t buy an extra seat, so like, why would I give you mine? And usually I would’ve given it up but I told her, I was like, I gotta see my girl, I can’t get off this plane. Because that’s serious to me, you know? And I…”

Paige’s rambling trails off only when she finishes taking off her shoes and finally glances up, to find Azzi standing a little awestruck a couple feet away.

“Oh,” she says, smiling almost sheepishly at her as she straightens up, “hey.”

For some reason, that’s what snaps Azzi out of her Paige-induced trance and she sort of forgets about the rest of her family watching them as she crosses the few steps it takes to launch herself into Paige’s arms, nearly sobbing with relief of a weight she didn’t know was there being lifted off her shoulders as she’s wrapped up in an all-too-familiar embrace.

“You’re here,” Azzi breathes, almost unable to believe it. “Why’re you here?”

Paige squeezes her tight, leans down to bury her face in the crook between her shoulder and neck. “Couldn’t wait any longer,” is all she says, and Azzi hasn’t ever agreed with anything more.

————————————

It’s not until later—after a celebratory lunch and family board games and then a celebratory dinner and family movie night, completed with ice cream sundaes—that they get a moment alone.

As soon as they’re stepping into Azzi’s bedroom, Paige is on her in a second, holding her tight by the waist and inhaling deeply into her hair. It’s almost instinctual the way Azzi reciprocates, her body moving on its own accord to wrap her arms around Paige’s broad shoulders and hold her close. It’s not for a few more moments that Paige says something. “Missed you so much, Az.”

“I know,” Azzi nods, pulling away just enough to get a good look at her girlfriend’s face, and though they’ve spent half the day together she still marvels at the fact that she’s looking at her without the barrier of a shitty internet connection, hearing her without the interruption of cackling speakers. “‘M happy you’re here, baby.”

“Me too,” Paige replies, leaning forward so their noses are touching. “We should never do that again, yeah?”

“What? Spend the summer apart?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies, her eyes drifting shut as her lips brush up against Azzi’s. “Hated every second of it.”

“Me too,” Azzi breathes, closing her eyes as well at the feeling of Paige’s breath up against her lips, her hands running slowly up and down her back before moving to her stomach, pushing against her. Azzi gasps as her back hits the bedroom door, eyes opening to study her girlfriend’s face, to find her staring back. Her pale cheeks are already a little flushed, and Azzi must be wearing a similar expression because Paige chuckles softly before leaning down and finally pressing their lips together in a soft, tender kiss. Chaste enough but nothing like the few pecks they shared today—this is intimate and weighted and altogether not meant for her family to see.

“Azzi,” Paige mumbles needily against her lips and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly she’s getting wet, just from a closed-mouth kiss and roaming hands on her stomach and an utterance of her name.

But she can’t really bring herself to be embarrassed. Because this is Paige. And it’s been so much longer than either of them can bear.

“Az,” Paige repeats, pressing soft kisses against the corner of her mouth now, “I…can we?” she pulls back and Azzi’s legs nearly give out at the hot, desperate look in Paige’s eyes. “Need you,” she insists.

Azzi glances over her shoulder, at the closed door and the hallway she knows is beyond, her family separated only by square meters and walls. It’s not an ideal situation.

But neither is holding off for another day. Even another hour might destroy her, if the damp spot growing on her panties has anything to say about it.

So, Azzi nods, untangling her arms from around Paige’s neck in order to reach back and lock the door. She can’t help but smile at the excitement in Paige’s eyes when she turns back to her, and at the same time she gives her a look that’s all warning. “We gotta be quiet, though.”

“Got it,” Paige nods, already walking them backwards toward the bed.

“And no strap,” Azzi continues, then squeals as quietly as possible when Paige pushes her down onto the bed.

Paige is back on her as soon as she’s lying down, kneeling on the bed to hover over her, and the pout on her face contrasts almost comically with the heat in her eyes. “But I brought it for us.”

Azzi isn’t all that surprised—of course Paige would bring their neglected dildo to her surprise visit at Azzi’s parent’s house. But Paige becomes sort of feral when that thing comes on and Azzi is no better, often unable to hold in the noises that rip their way out her throat while Paige pounds her.

As Azzi scoots back until her head hits the pillows, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck so she follows, she knows tonight isn’t the night for rough and filthy. The longing in her belly is heated, sure, the arousal leaking from her downright sinful—but there’s something almost innocent in the way she needs Paige tonight. She needs her as if she’s a piece of her that’s been missing too long, and it’s only natural to come back together like this.

“Paige,” she whispers, pulling her down, “please, just—don’t need any of that. Just need you, right now.”

Something softens almost immediately in Paige’s expression at that, the arousal clouding her gaze clearing just a bit and making way for pure, unadulterated love.

“Aight, baby,” Paige mutters, kissing Azzi again, and this time Azzi opens up for her, salivating when Paige’s tongue meets hers, pushing past to enter her mouth and lick around inside like she’s looking for something. Azzi’s legs go instinctively around Paige’s waist, hands tightening around her neck, anything to bring them as close as possible.

Paige pulls back when Azzi’s breath gets shaky, string of saliva connecting their lips until Paige licks it away. “I gotchu,” she reassures, one hand finding its way from where it’s bracing her on the bed to stroke down her cheek, to her collarbone. “Just relax, baby.”

“‘S been a long time,” Azzi replies, figuring that’s the reason for the lump of anxiety in her throat, the way she’s grasping at Paige as if she’ll disappear. And, sure, it’s only been three months—what’s three months, when plenty couples go years without seeing each other?—but for Paige and Azzi, it felt like an eternity. And Azzi realizes it’s a little overwhelming coming back to something so familiar all at once.

“I know,” Paige says, leaning down to trail her lips delicately against her jawline. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi replies, a little breathily now that Paige is moving to that sweet spot on her neck. And when she gets there, she sucks, not quite hard enough to leave a bruise but hard enough for her to feel it. “Paige,” she murmurs, her own hands going to the hem of her sweater, “Wanna—take this off.”

“Okay,” Paige replies, helping Azzi sit up just enough to pull the piece of clothing off and toss it somewhere across the room. It’s dimly lit, only the moonlight and the lamp on Azzi’s bedside table to illuminate the room, but it’s plenty enough for Paige to take in Azzi’s bare torso, eyes flickering from her collarbones to her chest to her face, then back to her chest again where her gaze lingers—Azzi reminds herself to make fun of her for that later—and then, finally, Azzi watches her girlfriend’s gaze travel down the bare expanse of her stomach, to her navel, where her eyes widen and her jaw drops just slightly when she sees the new piercing sitting there.

“You…” Paige mumbles, never ripping her eyes from the piercing, and Azzi giggles. “You actually got it.”

“Had to,” Azzi says, pleased with the reaction. “You owe me twenty, by the way.”

Paige looks up at her then, and her free hand travels down Azzi’s stomach to cautiously touch the stud. “Did it hurt?”

Azzi nods. “Yeah. But it was worth it.”

Paige nods along with her. “Definitely worth it.”

Her lips reattach to her neck, but they don’t linger there, moving quickly down to the dip between her collarbones, her fingers still delicately playing with her piercing. “Got it a couple days after our FaceTime. You remember?”

Paige nips at her collarbone. “Yeah. Thought there was no way in hell you’d get it.”

“‘S why I did,” Azzi replies, tone going a little unsteady again as Paige’s lips travel lower, reminding her of the pulsing that’s beginning to ache between her legs. “Knew you’d like it.”

“I was right, though,” Paige replies, a little muffled as she kisses the pillowy flesh of Azzi’s chest, “it is hot.”

“Tha-anks,” Azzi moans out, clutching Paige’s hair as she finally attaches to a nipple. Her head falls back, relishing in the way Paige flicks her tongue, feeling so much better than Azzi’s own fingers ever could. She’s resorted many times to playing with herself while thinking of Paige, but it’s never the same. And maybe the knowledge of how good Paige is had begun slipping away from her, but it comes back now with sharp clarity as Paige suckles and then smooths down with the flat of her tongue.

Paige moves over to Azzi’s other breast, making sure to litter a few marks across her chest on the way, and she busies herself with removing Paige’s ponytail, fingers fumbling a few times around the hair tie before she gets it off. Paige chuckles against her when her hair falls loose around her shoulders, and Azzi smiles, too, watching through hooded eyes as Paige lifts her head to place a chaste kiss on her lips. “Can we take these off?” she asks, tugging at the waistband of Azzi’s sleep shorts.

Azzi nods, lifting her hips while Paige pulls them down, leaving her underwear on. It’s not exactly a cute pair—she didn’t prepare for sex when she woke up completely Paige-less this morning—but she can’t bring herself to be self-conscious about it.

“Mm,” Paige hums, dragging her lips down Azzi’s chest, to her navel, where the tip of her tongue pokes out, licking around her piercing. Turns out she likes it even more than Azzi thought she would. Azzi watches, lazily, while Paige presses open-mouthed kisses against her. She wants to urge her on but at the same time knows she needs to be patient, needs to let Paige take her time with her.

“Fuck,” Paige mumbles against her skin, then licks down to the hem of her underwear, kissing along it to nip at her hipbone. “Missed this so fucking much.”

“Baby,” Azzi breathes, watching Paige open her legs enough to settle between them, breathing hot and purposeful over Azzi’s clothed core.

“I know,” Paige mumbles, eyes locked on the wet patch on Azzi’s panties. She takes her bottom lip between her teeth as she brings a thumb to rub gently over Azzi’s clit, and it makes her hips push up for more. “I’ma eat you now, okay?” Paige says, looking up at her.

Azzi nods. “Please, P.”

Paige licks her lips, then presses them to the plush skin of her inner thigh, making quick work of pulling the panties off. As soon as she does, she spreads her open even wider, eyes hooded and mouth slightly open when she takes two fingers and spreads her folds. “Look at that,” she breathes, licking her thumb before using it to rub her clit in little circles. “She’s cryin’ for me, huh?”

“Fuck,” Azzi moans breathily when Paige nuzzles her nose up into her. Paige uses her free hand to press down on her abdomen, partly to keep her still and partly to make it feel better, and she tries to stay steady, resisting the urge to arch her hips up.

“Hold my hair, mama,” Paige says, and with shaking hands Azzi does, gathering her long hair away from her face. Glancing up at her, Paige licks a long stripe up her cunt as a reward. Azzi gasps desperately, gripping her hair a little more tightly and pulling her closer, urging her to do that thing she loves. And Paige gets it, smirking against her pussy before dipping her tongue into her hole, effectively drinking her up while her nose bumps against her clit. Head lulling back against the sheets, Azzi throws an arm over her face in a feeble attempt to keep quiet.

“Tastes so good,” Paige moans into her, mouth wide open as she sucks her folds into her mouth. “Missed this shit so bad, mama.”

“Mm-hmm,” Azzi whines, unable to respond or even really register the words with the way Paige is making such a mess of her, spit mixing with Azzi’s own juices, leaking down onto the bed.

Paige licks into her entrance again, the warm muscle exploring that spongy spot inside her and then going up to her clit and sucking it harshly into her mouth. Azzi bites down on her hand—otherwise, she’d sob.

When Paige looks up and catches her struggle, she smirks and wraps her arms around Azzi’s thighs, situating them over her shoulders and pressing a few tender kisses to Azzi’s clit. “So pretty, baby,” she mutters, and Azzi shivers when her hot breath hits her cunt. “Wanna do this forever.” She works her jaw, and Azzi barely has time to register what she’s doing before Paige spits on her, using her hand to rub it in, and then going in and licking it back up.

“P—“ Azzi chokes, scratching her nails roughly through Paige’s hair, holding her head close enough that she doesn’t move when her hips cant up. That warmth in her belly becomes tense, a familiar knot forming there, and her legs begin to shake.

“Close?” Paige asks, knowing all her tells.

Azzi nods urgently, pulling Paige’s head back down, gasping as she presses the flat of her tongue against her clit before flicking it at an impossible speed, her hips grinding up as she rides Paige’s face, head turning to the side to bury into her pillow.

“God, Paige—gonna come,” she says urgently, the feeling of Paige nodding against her only hurdling her closer, “fuck, love you so much. Love you so fucking much, gonna make me come, fu-uckkk!”

She thrashes, legs shaking impossibly hard as Paige licks her through it, her hand rubbing furiously at Azzi’s poor clit while she slurps up the arousal gushing from her, and she doesn’t stop until Azzi’s heels are kicking against her back, palm of her hand pushing at her forehead.

Even then, Paige gives her a last kiss on her clit before surging up to meet her lips, the kiss they share far too tender for what just happened.

“Missed that,” Paige whispers, smiling down at her when they separate.

“Fuck,” Azzi sighs, looking up at her girlfriend almost in disbelief. “Me, too.”

She combs her fingers gently through Paige’s hair, getting the knots, and Paige’s eyes flutter shut. Slowly, she lets her hands wander, down her shoulders, her chest, to her stomach. “Baby,” she whispers, watching Paige open her eyes slowly, “need to see you.”

Paige hesitates and for a moment Azzi thinks she might be too tired, but the next second she’s reaching behind her and pulling her t-shirt off. Azzi’s hands immediately go to those toned abs she loves so much, then up to Paige’s sports bra. “This, too.”

Obediently, Paige pulls the tight material over her head, tossing it along with the rest of their clothes. Azzi doesn’t take her time—can’t bring herself to, not now—bringing her hands up to Paige’s tits and squeezing them. Paige inches up, encouraging her, and Azzi lifts her mouth to one of her hands, separating her fingers to expose a nipple and taking it between her lips. Paige is quick to react, bracing herself on Azzi’s shoulders while she grinds down onto one of her thighs, and Azzi can feel the wetness through her sweats.

While her tongue works over the pert nipple, she lets her other hand wander back down Paige’s stomach, under her sweatpants, and when Paige grinds down encouragingly, she dips her fingers into her boxers. Using her pointer and ring fingers, she spreads her folds, then drags her middle finger up her sopping slit, groaning into her breast at the sheer amount of wetness she feels there.

“Az,” Paige breathes, bearing down on Azzi’s hand, but the angle is all wrong and she pulls of her tit with a pop.

Urging Paige off her lap, Azzi flips them over, knowing Paige would resist if she wanted to. But Paige is needy, hair a mess and lips swollen, chin still a little wet with Azzi’s arousal, baby blue’s wide as she stares reverently at her. “Lay back, baby,” she mutters, making quick work of the rest of Paige’s clothes once the girl obeys.

As soon as she’s naked, Azzi crawls over her, dipping her hand back between her legs, warm heat pooling at her fingers. “So wet, P. I make you like this?”

“Fuck, yes,” Paige replies, and it’s her turn to wrap her arms around Azzi’s shoulders, nails scratching a little when Azzi dips a finger into her hole.

“You want it?” Azzi asks, teasing, rubbing her thumb over Paige’s clit before going back down to her entrance.

“Need it,” Paige insists.

“Gonna be good for me?” Azzi murmurs, leaning down so she’s right by her ear, making Paige shiver. “Gonna be quiet, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige says, the submissive tone in her voice rare and so fucking sexy, “promise, baby.”

“Mm,” Azzi hums, relishing in the little noise Paige makes as she slides a finger inside her. Paige arches forward, burying her head in Azzi’s neck, and Azzi presses comforting kisses to her shoulder, shushing her gently. She pumps in and out a few times, getting her ready, before sliding another one in, and she loves the way Paige curls even further into her—not an inch of space between them. She wishes they could stay like this forever.

Starting out slow, Azzi goes in an out, spreading her fingers against the impossible tightness surrounding her fingers. She glances down between their bodies, but it’s hard to see—still, she can just make out Paige’s cunt sucking her fingers in eagerly, and she moans maybe a little too loud.

“Oh, oh,” Paige whines into her neck, clinging onto her as Azzi picks up speed, “don’t stop, so good.”

Azzi bites her lip, concentrating, and on her next thrust she hooks her fingers upward on the way out, letting them drag against that spongy spot deep inside, and Paige sobs, nodding feverishly.

Azzi pulls away, forcing Paige’s head out of her neck so they can look at each other. She uses her free hand to brush a damp strand of hair from Paige’s face. “Right there?”

“Yeah,” Paige breathes, obviously doing her best to be quiet, and Azzi thinks they’ll need to empty out the house tomorrow so they can do this again without so many restraints.

Azzi repeats the motion once, twice, and Paige’s eyes roll to the back of her head. Her thighs clench around Azzi’s hand, abs tightening—she’s getting close.

Nuzzling their noses together, Azzi brings her thumb to Paige’s clit and starts rubbing hard.

Paige cries out weakly. Azzi presses their lips together, regretfully swallowing every noise Paige makes, arm growing tired as she works her over, thrusting fast and hard now. Paige is writhing, hands keeping Azzi close as if she’s going to up and leave.

“Not going anywhere,” Azzi murmurs against her lips. “You okay?”

Paige moans. “Getting close—just…stay right here.”

“Okay, baby,” Azzi whispers. “Just relax, I got you. You’re okay.”

It works, Paige softening around the edges, jaw unclenching and legs falling open, eyes hooded and searching as they look into Azzi’s. Azzi nods at her, kissing her lips and then the tip of her nose, not once slowing the pace of her fingers. “Doing good, baby. Gonna come?”

“Yeah,” Paige breathes, nodding fervently. “So close.”

Azzi punctuates it with a particularly hard thrust, loving the way Paige whines for her. “Missed making you come,” Azzi groans, forehead dropping onto Paige’s. “Missed fucking you.”

Paige swallows thickly, supposedly swallowing down a particularly loud sound, and Azzi rubs at her clit to the point of abuse. Paige opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something but then her jaw goes slack and her eyebrows furrow and she’s coming, hard, choking on a moan, bottom lip trembling like she might cry.

Enthralled, Azzi watches, trying to commit everything to memory—the way Paige’s tits arch up, the way she throws her head back, the way she bites her swollen lips, the way tears form at the corners of her eyes but don’t fall. Azzi hadn’t realized quite how much she missed this until just now.

As Paige comes down, pushing Azzi’s wrist so she’ll pull out, Azzi settles herself gently on top of her, pressing kisses to her face and neck. Paige’s arms soothe down her back then back up, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

“Good?” Azzi asks, giggling tiredly when Paige stares at her as if she hung the stars in the sky.

“Perfect,” Paige corrects, watching as Azzi lazily licks at her fingers, cleaning them off. “We can never be apart again, okay?”

“I can’t promise that.”

“I’ma—like, sneak you into my suitcase if I ever have to leave,” Paige insists, pulling Azzi down so she’s lying fully on top of her. “Gonna fuck you every day, I’on care.”

Azzi laughs, resting her cheek on Paige’s chest. “You’re an idiot.”

“Be quiet,” Paige says, pushing half-heartedly at her shoulder.

“Shit,” she says after a moment.

Azzi lifts her head to look quizzically at her. “What?”

“I really love your belly piercing.”

[cutebat]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

The Other Half

Warning(s): Yandere themes (at the end), neglect, mentions of pills (but she doesn't actually take them), a lot of swearing, stealing, mentions of cheating and bribery, attempted guilt tripping, forcing to drop out, reader is just a millennial in the 2020s

(This chapter is basically the other part of the prologue, and I fixed some things. Most of this chapter just shows reader's personal life at school.)

~~~~~

How long has it been has you stopped being Batgirl?

Days... Weeks... Months... A year?

Honestly, you don't really care. It's more like you don't feel to care anymore.

After you threw out your costume in that dumpster, you just lost all hope of whatever you'll become.

You were walking down the hallway of the Wayne manor as you think about all of this.

If nobody really cared about what you did, then why bother keep going? I mean, your family didn't really give you a lot of praise.

You let out a heavy sigh as you enter the bathroom. When you locked the door, you couldn't help but stare at yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes were still kinda empty but a little bright at the same time. Your hair feels so smooth and soft. And your skin... it just looks so perfect. This makes you think to yourself...

Since when did you become so pretty?

After staring at yourself in the mirror, you were about to leave the bathroom before you gaze lands on something.

It was an orange pill bottle.

"SSRI..."

You mutter out as you read the label.

You opened the door to peak to see if anyone was in the hallway. Coast clear.

With that, you took the pill bottle and put it in your top since you didn't have any pockets.

~~~~~

The first week when you started eighth grade came by quickly.

You were just wandering down around the hallway alone as many students walked by you to either go to class or skip to go somewhere.

As you walked down the hallway, you spotted someone approaching you.

"Uh, hey."

The voice calls out to you as the person walks towards you.

It was a guy with slightly bushy blonde hair with brown eyes. He seems to be around your age.

You only blinked before you spoke up.

"Hi."

You responded blankly.

"Um, are you new here?"

He asks as he rubs the back of his head.

"I've been going here for two years."

You said as you just stood there, staring at this boring looking guy.

"Oh, cool... I just thought that since I've never seen you around here before. Anyway, do you know where your classes are?"

He asks which makes you tilt your head to the side a bit.

"Kinda. I've seen all of the classes here around this building, so I think I'm going to be fine."

You said as you place your hand on your hip.

"Okay, that's cool. I'm Peter, by the way. What's your name?"

The guy whose name is Peter introduces himself with a small smile.

You were silent for a bit, surprised that someone actually spoke to you. You decided to... be nice, I guess.

"(name)."

You simply replied with your hand still on your hip.

"Aw, cool. It was nice meeting you (name). Hey, if you want, maybe we can hang out. You know, as friends? Maybe more...?"

Peter said as if he had high hope.

You just blinked before you replied.

"I literally just met you."

"Well... yeah, but-"

The guy tries to explain himself before you caught him off again.

"Well, I'm going to find my class now. See ya."

You said before you turned and walked away.

Was that guy really trying to hit on you?

~~~~~

You enter the classroom that seems to look like any other classroom.

"Ah, we have our first tardy student. Welcome to English 2. My name is Ms. Tucker, what is yours?"

The teacher said as she turned to you.

You stayed by the doorway for a moment, looking unfazed.

"Um... Beyoncé?"

You replied which made the students in the class laugh.

"Settle down! I have to look it up in the attendance sheet, then..."

Your teacher said with a sigh before she pointed at an empty desk, indicating that your new seat was.

As you sat down, Ms. Tucker speaks up again.

"Alright then, now I see that everyone's present, I want to start off with some first day reading. Basically, like silent reading time."

She said before a girl raised her hand.

"Can we read manga?"

She asks, which makes the teacher raise her eyebrow.

"Is that like... a comic book?"

"Does it even matter?"

"Well, I don't think they're fitting for your age."

"You literally just said to 'read a book'. Manga is technically a book."

"I'm not sure if that's school appropriate."

"I just saw a manga section in the school library earlier, how the fuck is that not school appropriate?"

"Not getting to the point here. I'm just saying to read something more like you kids would like."

"And what's that?"

"How about... The Catcher in the Rye? Written by J.D. Salinger?"

Everyone fell silent before you spoke up.

"You're such a fucking white mom, it's not even funny."

This made everyone in the class burst out laughing.

"Excuse me, young lady?"

"You heard me, bitch."

The students laughed even more.

"Go to the headmaster's office!"

Ms. Tucker yells as she points to the door.

~~~~~

"You're on thin ice on the first day, (name)."

The headmaster said with her hands on her hips.

"It's not my fault that Ms. Tucker is such a bitch and also, there was this other girl who interrupted her."

You said as you were seated in front of her.

"Don't shift this onto someone else, (name). We're talking about you right now."

"So, what am I supposed to do? Accidentally call my teacher a fucking white mom?"

"You're supposed to follow the school rules and not insult your teachers. You should've known this."

"I do."

"Then, why did you do it anyway?"

You purse your lips before you respond.

"Because it's funny."

Your response made your headmaster sigh to calm herself down.

"Well... if this doesn't work out for you, we can always transfer you in an alternative educational system instead."

She suggests using a calm, patient expression on her face.

"I swear to god if you put me in one of those schools that have nothing but those weird, delusional people who believe in 'those' kinds of inclusivity topics, I will actually bully the fuck out of all of them."

You told her with a slightly irritated expression on your face.

"I wasn't implying to those schools, (name). We have other educational systems for students who don't seem to get along."

Your headmaster said which made you raise your eyebrow.

"Really now?"

"I wouldn't try to get into them if I were you. Please believe me when I tell you that the school you're in right now is actually a good thing."

She explains to you which made you seem to be in more thought.

~~~~~

Later in lunch, you were sitting at a table alone as you stared down at the food that Alfred made for you.

"Damn, it's fucking freezing in here. Why do they always turn up the AC?"

You mutter to yourself as you slightly shiver.

"Fucking tell me about it."

A voice pipes up that makes you look up to see two girls who are wearing the same uniform as you, walking over to you.

"Oh, sorry. Were you guys sitting here? I can move if you want."

You said before one of them shook her head.

"Nah, it's fine. You seem cool."

She said as she and the other girl sits down in front of you.

"I'm Noelle, and this is Sasha."

The girl in the bob cut said as the other girl nodded.

"I'm (name)."

You said in a bored tone.

"(name)... such a cute name. I like it."

Noelle said with a small smile.

"So, where did you come from?"

"The headmaster's office."

You said as you roll your eyes.

"Damn, the headmaster's office on the first day? What did you do?"

Sasha asks as she rests her chin on the palm of her hand.

"I told Ms. Tucker that she was a fucking white mom."

You respond in an emotionless tone.

"She is, isn't she?"

"Yeah, except I don't think she's married or anything."

"You don't need to be married to be a mom."

"That's true."

"Anyway, that was really good."

"I know."

You said with a small smirk on your face, feeling a sense of pride in yourself.

As the three of you were chatting, someone walks up to your table.

"Hey, guys. Hey, Sasha..."

Looking up, you see a slightly tall guy with brown hair, towering over the three of you.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Sasha asks as she glares up at the guy.

"It's me. Ian? I was in your social studies class last year. You know, year 8? You used to copy off of the tests that we took. I'm also in your geography class right now."

He said as Sasha just blankly stared up at him.

"Okay... cool."

"So, anyway, I actually wanna ask you something."

Ian said as he glanced down at the three girls below.

"Who?"

You ask with your eyebrow lifted.

"You, actually."

"Wait, me? Why?"

"I heard about you calling Ms. Tucker names and got sent to the office for that. I want to say that's actually pretty cool."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Yeah, so, anyway... I want to know if you're free either tonight or tomorrow."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I actually want to... take you out on a date."

"A date?"

You ask out loud with your eyes wide.

"Yeah. It's not going to be too extreme... just a simple night out at my favorite spot."

Ian said with a smile.

"And where's that?"

You ask with your eyebrow raised.

"The arcade at the alleyway."

"An arcade? Out of all the places, an arcade is your go to spot?"

"Yeah. It's pretty old, but it's also kinda cool."

You just blinked as you were in thought. The guy himself seemed pretty boring, but on second thought, you don't really want to go back home after school.

"Yeah, sure."

"Wait, really?"

Ian said out of suprise.

"Yeah, I have nothing else to do. My home life is pretty shitty anyway, so I have no problem."

You tell him.

"Oh, sweet. Okay, then. I'll give you my number to send you the location. It was nice meeting you."

He said before he placed a piece of paper in front of you before he walks off.

"Holy shit..."

Noelle mutters out.

"You got asked out by a grade 9 student."

Sasha said as she stared into you.

"Yeah... Is that a problem?"

You ask.

"No, not at all. It's just that... you got asked out by someone on the first day. That's pretty impressive."

Sasha said in an amazed tone.

"Yeah. I won't be that surprised that it's a super lame dude, but an older dude is kind of just... wow."

Noelle said with her eyes wide.

"So, if I get asked out by an older guy, does that mean it's a good thing?"

You ask as you lean back to your seat.

"Well, it depends on the guy. If he's just a few years older than you, that's fine. But really old dudes, no way."

Sasha said as she stares at your food.

"Hey, are you going to eat that? My mom won't make me anything cause I told her that her new haircut looks like a really trashy lesbian would have, and the school lunch here is just not it."

"Yeah, sure, go ahead. The temperature in here made me lose my appetite."

You said as you pushed your lunch towards her.

~~~~~

After school, you went through a very long day.

You had your date with that Ian guy at the arcade. It's pretty trashy but kinda fun. He even got you this massive bunny plushie. After the date, he wanted to take you home, but you just left before he could say anything else. Then, you end up meeting a guy who seems to be around a few years older than you on your way home. He took you to an abandoned building, but he ended up falling asleep the second you two entered. So, you ended up taking his wallet for an Uber. Once the driver dropped you off, he gave you his number for some reason. It was weird, but you took it anyway cause, why not.

~~~~~

"Whew, what a day..."

You muttered to yourself as you entered the Wayne manor.

"Miss (name), where on earth have you been?"

Alfred, the family butler, asks out of shock as he comes downstairs to find you coming inside.

"At an arcade."

You reply in a blank tone.

"So, I'm supposed to believe the story of you being at an arcade after school all night?"

The old butler wonders with his eyebrow lifted.

"All night? I was there for about what... Two or three hours."

"It's two in the morning, miss (name)."

"Oh, wow. I really hung around that building for that long?"

You mutter to yourself out of surprise.

"What building are you talking about, miss (name)?"

Alfred asks as he walks up to you.

"Some abandoned building I went to after my date at that shitty arcade."

You tell the butler as he kneels down to your height.

"How far away were you? Did you walk? Your uniform is a mess!"

He asks as he took a look at you.

"Nah, I got myself an Uber. It's fine."

You tell him with your tone still blank as ever.

"Miss (name), I don't think it's a good idea to accept rides from strangers."

Alfred said with a heavy sigh as he led you upstairs.

"That's how Ubers work, Alfred. You just find someone pretty close to your location and let them drive you anywhere you want. It's like going on a taxi."

You explain to him as he takes you to your bedroom and lets you sit down on your desk chair.

"I suppose. However, you could have given Master Richard or Master Jason to pick you up. I think that'll be a safer option."

Alfred said in reply as he took out some comfortable clothes from your closet and handed them over to you.

"Why the hell should I call these fuckers? They don't give a shit about me anyway."

You snap at the butler as you snatch your clothes from him and go inside your own bathroom.

It was silent as Alfred stood in front of your bathroom door with a concerned expression and a heavy heart. Then, he speaks up again.

"I tried to talk to them again today, especially to Master Bruce. But, I got no response from all of them. I really tried. I'm really sorry, miss (name)."

His words made the old butler pursed his lips as he let out a sigh. He feels guilty that he didn't try enough for your family to at least give you a glance. He's been doing this ever since you got neglected and tried every single day with no response.

That's when you open the bathroom door with you wearing the clothes that he gave you. A yellow sweatshirt and a black skirt.

"It's fine, just forget about it. I appreciate though."

You tell him as you look up at him.

"Sorry for snapping at you a second ago..."

You added as you put some of your hair strands behind your ear.

However, the butler only smiles as he kneels down to your height once again.

"I understand, miss (name). It's not your fault. None of this is."

He reassures you as he places both of his hands on your shoulders.

"Even though they might not pay attention to you that much, I will always be by your side."

He tells you that made you smile a little.

"Thanks, Alfred."

You mutter out.

"Also, let's keep me coming back home a secret, okay? I know that they won't care if they find out, but still."

You add with a chuckle that made the butler smile.

"Alright. But, I will advise you to go to bed now. It's a school night, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Meanwhile, unknowingly to you, someone was beside your bedroom door, listening in the conversation.

~~~~~

Since then, you've never felt so... free.

You became friends with those two girls from lunch, and more guys asked you out while you two timed them the same time, and some of the teachers were so easy to bribe off that you ended up skipping most of your classes. At least you were still passing.

You also stayed up at night to do stuff like going out, doing some more lame dates, and most of all, just chilled out.

As long Alfred kept quiet about all this, then none of this would have a problem. Not that you have too much to worry about.

Life is going so well for you.

For now.

~~~~~

When the first semester ended and winter break started, you had a packed schedule ahead. You're planning to go on dates for the next two weeks straight. It was going to be tough, especially hanging around with a bunch of weird guys, but hey, at least they're buying you things that you want.

As you entered your bedroom because you forgot your phone, you were suprised to see...

Bruce?

He was sitting on your bed and seemed to be deep in thought before he looked up to see you standing by in the doorway.

"What are you doing in here?"

You ask as you walk into your room.

Bruce seems to be nervous before he lets out a sigh.

"(name)... we need to have a talk."

He said as he looked straight into your eyes which made you groan.

"Oh my god... Can we talk about this later? I have a date to go to."

You ask that made him a little frustrated.

"You're not going anywhere tonight, (name)."

He said that made you a little surprised.

"Why the hell not?"

"Watch your tone, young lady."

"Since when did you address me that?"

"Not the point right now."

Bruce lets out a sigh before he looks down at you.

"Look, I... was told about your behavior for the past months and I took a look through your things to check up on what was going on. I... didn't know what you were going through. None of us did. We didn't know that this the reason why you're behaving like this at school and started hanging out with the wrong people."

He tells you as he places his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, (name)... I really am. Even though you can't forgive me for what I did, I'll try my best to be the best father you've ever had. I told the others about this and they'll start behaving and treat you the way that you deserve."

You just stood there, as if you heard the biggest news of your life, except not in a good way. It's as if something hit you right in the gut.

"Oh, shit! Um... okay."

You mutter out as you just stare at your adopted father.

Sensing your tenses, Bruce decided to go into more detail. Which was not a good idea...

"Because of this, I decided that you should be around people who me and the others will find alright. Since I don't know who you're around, Damian will check who your friends and the people you date are. Also, the family wants you to be around them. Such as spending time with them and basically having fun. Something that you never got to experience."

Now, this. This felt like a nuclear bomb dropped into your head.

"Are you serious...? Like, are you actually fucking serious right now?"

You ask as your eye twitches a bit.

"You really thought I could just accept whatever shit that comes out of your mouth because you suddenly remember what you and those other fuckers treated me? Now, you want me to drop out of the life that I kinda enjoy? You sure are funny, are you?"

You said in a bitter tone before your lips curled into a snarl.

"I will never forget about the shit that I went through to please you and that shitty family that I was forced to be a part of."

You added as you walked to Bruce and got in his face before you spit out the next two words out of your mouth.

"Fuck you and your family."

With that, you stormed out of your bedroom as Bruce calls out for you.

~~~~~

Your mind was flooded with so much anger that you ended up forgetting about the three dates that you were supposed to go to today.

This wasn't the way you wanted to start your winter break.

You don't know why, but you stormed into the attic and sat down on the floor.

"Fuck!"

You yelled out as you panted slightly.

As you were panting, you looked down to finally notice a glittery diary in your hand. Since when did you get your hand on this?

You can't help but open the diary to find all the pages empty. It's not really a suprise then you never used it in your life. You don't even remember when you got this.

So, you looked around before your eyes landed on a random pen lying on the ground. Without thinking, you picked it up and opened the diary to the very first page.

With that, you started to write your 'entry'.

It's time to show the world of this game that you're forced to be in.

•

•

•

Taglist: @somebodyrandom-613 @delias-stuff @endism @ragdol-666 @snowy-violet @sleepydhanie @missikkj @k1ttys-w0rld @box-of-kinderjoy @thetreefairypersonalblog @thelibraryofdeez @animegoddess15 @lilyalone @seraph101 @lain3iwakura @tacodeemon @whiterabbitxxx @yuyuzi-ling @lilithquillete @amisupposedtomakesenserightnow @una1002289 @spacetravelr @luckyangelballoon @illytian @ghostdoodlen @imaginarydreams @flyingpansaurus @wrenbirde @kimzzz18 @ohnoivefallen @ferakillia @f1lover4ever @asahi20789 @livingforloves @moonieper @rosecentury @waitingforanarchicaddiction @missmannequin @mischiefmanaged124 @hanselate @doli09 @chocolatemoose26 @enjisthings @stitchtheseconde @purple-lemon-8 @milliu @blublock404

(If you want to be in the taglist, let me know!)

[cosmopretty]

Hard Launch

Caitlin Clark X Fem Blurb

Synopsis: After dating for a year Caitlin decides today would be the best day to hard launch your relationship together.

———————————————————————————————————

I can’t believe all of the amazing things that have happened to me this year especially my girl that has stuck with me through thick and thin :) I’m so grateful for her ;) Love you baby

aliyah.boston my babies 🫶🏽

y/n y/l aw love you to cc

gabbie.marshall can’t believe it’s been over a year congrats guys

katemartin your welcome 😊

caitlinclark22 @katemartin stop taking credit for my relationship

y/n y/l @caitlinclark22 she did force us together baby

sabrina_i cuties ❤️

overtimewbb goals

lexiehulll best couple out here

paigebueckers favorite gay couple 🙏

y/n y/l @paigebueckers don’t make me say it paige

paigebueckers @y/ny/l IM SORRY

nalyssasmith my girlssss 🖤

You reply to a few of the comments under Caitlin’s post seeing a few comments from some fans that made you smile at how supportive they were. That didn’t take away from the trolls and rude comments as well but you ignored them because the good comments out weighted the bad.

Caitlin comes over to you on the couch slinging her arm around your shoulder, looking over you to see your phone “See I told you people would support us” she says proud of herself and her fans for making her right, once again.

“But some people said this” You point to some of the mean comments dissing your relationship. Reading the comments Caitlin grabs your phone shutting it off and putting in her pocket “So what? Those are a few random people your never gonna meet in your life. Who cares what they say I love you and that’s all that matters right?” Caitlin asks you her hand coming to hold your cheek in place so she can look at you.

Eye contact was always important to her, she loved looking into your eyes knowing you were looking back at her. You nod leaning into her hand “Yeah I know I love you too” you say quietly, that is she weren’t sitting infront of you herself she wouldn’t be able to hear you.

Her hand pulls you closer to her until your lips connect, you kiss her back. This wasn’t a normal kiss it was her showing you how much she loved you. The kiss was soft and slowly her hands holding you to her, all she wanted to do was protect you from the world. She never kept your relationship a secret more so private, for the past year she was scared for you, and what the fans would say or do to you. But with all the media and fame she has gotten, with getting drafted she wanted the world to know she was yours and you were hers. She loved you more than anything, that’s why you moved with her all the way to Indiana, so she could live her dreams with you by her side the whole time.

Caitlin pulls away from the kiss first, her thumb caresses the side of your face “You mean everything to me you know that right?” she asks you. This isn’t the first time she asked you something like this, she always made sure you knew how much she loved you and cared for you.

“Yeah I know you mean everything to me too that’s why we’re here with me by your side while you live out your basketball dreams” You reply to her your hand coming to hold her waist, rubbing up and down on the soft skin under her shirt. Caitlin visibly relaxes when your hands touch her skin, her eyes softening as she looks at you.

Now the whole world knows you together, which means she can show you off to everyone as her girlfriend. Caitlin jumps up from the couch “Come on get ready let’s go out so everyone can see you’re my girl” she beams excitedly.

Your furrow your brows “Baby you all ready posted it. Who are we seeing outside?” you ask her confused as her hands pull you up from the couch. She shrugs “I don’t know fans maybe, someone, a rando I don’t care” she tells you dragging you into your shared room.

All Caitlin could think about was how you were her girl and everyone now knew it.

[thehouseofurmotha]

In all honesty, I'm such a fan of the bakugo x aizawas daughter!reader series (if i can all it that)

I'm in NEED of new oneshots basically anything will do

AHH PLEASE TYSM @kitthefanfickat FOR REQUESTING THIS I LITERALLY LOVE ANY EXCUSE TO WRITE DADZAWA <33

Pt. 3 to loud blonde <3 (as for all of them could be read on its own as a standalone one shot.)

Pt. 1, pt. 2

Summery: y/n starts feeling really left out of her father's life, and her loud blonde boyfriend is there to comfort her and fix the pieces of her that have broken.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mommy issues!! Mentions of mental abuse snd neglect,

You loved your father, and you knew how much he did for you. But sometimes you couldn't help but feel left out of his life. Recently he's started spending the little free time he has training a kid in your general studies class.

Hitoshi Shinsou, you've talked to him on more than one occasion. You and him have a very similar personality, and in reality he kind of reminds you of your father. Which is why it makes sense that he took a liking to the kid. But fuck did you feel like shit.

You knew that your father loved you too, and that there wasn't anything that he wouldn't do for you. But you still, couldn't help but feel left out of his world. The world of being a hero, you suppose.

You've never once regretted your decision to not become a hero like your father. Maybe it was from your mother drilling it into your head as a child that hero's are bad, and you should never want to be one.

For the first 5 years of your life you were raised by a mother who simply did not care about you. Maybe she saw to much of your father in you to ever truly love you. She had left your father before you were born, as a child you fantasized about him coming to save you and take you away from your mother. But even as a child, you knew the chances were unlikely as the chances he knew you existed were very slim. Your mother would tell you that, all the time. She would constantly remind you that no one loved you, and nobody was coming to save you.

For a long time you couldn't come to terms with the truth that your mom was an awful person. You wanted to hate her but she was still your mother. No matter how much she neglected and manipulated you.

The day of your 5th birthday, your mother finally snapped. She hadn't been taking care of you in months, you were practically skin and bones. Your hair was in one huge mat.

As a child, most kids were excited for their birthdays. Not you, your birthday just reminded your mother more of 'mistake' she made by not getting rid of you. You woke up and made your way to the kitchen in hopes she would have made herself breakfast and you could steal whatever scraps ended up left.

You were lucky that morning that she did. Or so you thought, she had went to the couch to watch her show while she ate. And you saw this as the perfect opportunity to eat a little bit of the food she had left over, even if you couldn't have much it was better than nothing.

You quietly dragged a chair over to the stove and picked at the extra eggs and bacon lying in a pan. You thought your mother had been preoccupied, but she must have forgotten something, you didn't really know.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" She screamed some how louder than she ever has at you before. You immediately burst into tears stuttering an apology over and over again.

"I was just so hungry mommy I'm so sorry- I- I won't do it again-" She looked at you with burning hatred as you begged for her forgiveness. You didn't understand what you had done to deserve this.

"Get the fuck out of my house." You sob even harder at this. You were just a kid where were you supposed to go.

"Mommy please-" you beg, you don't want to get kicked out. You just wanted her to love you.

"Get out. Now." She was unnaturally calm while saying this. You kept sobbing and sobbing as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the door handle. Suddenly you were no longer in that house, and surrounded by a cold uncaring world.

You don't know how, but you managed to make it to a police station. You knew that these people would help you. You just wanted to be saved, like the people your father helped. Why couldn't he help you.

You push the large doors open, not without struggle though. You see a pretty woman sitting at a desk in front of you with a kind smile.

"Hi honey, where are your parents?" Her comment makes the tears that had previously stopped come back even harder. No body had ever been that gentle with you.

"M-mommy kicked me out-" You sob and hiccup throughout the sentence and the lady gives you a look of pity. She quickly gets up from her desk and wraps you in her warm arms.

"You're safe now sweetie, you're safe." You shove your face into her chest and sob harder. Never having felt such loving touch. "Can you come with me honey? We just need to ask you some questions so we can figure out how to help you."

You look up at her and give her a small nod. You're brought back into an interrogation room, but the kind lady never leaves your side. She sits in the chair next to you asking if you need anything. She offers you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"don't know what that is.." It's hard for you to admit, you really didn't know what anything was. It was a miracle that you had learned how to talk at all.

"It's a very yummy food, and it'll help you feel better." She adds the second part after heading your stomach grumble. You not giving her approval, "I'll be right back honey." She says this as she walks out of the door leaving you alone.

You pull your knees to your chest. You were so scared, you just wanted your mom to love you.

You wake up from the nightmare, if you could even really call it that. It was nothing but the truth, the harsh reality you had to face that your mom had abandoned you.

You hazily make you way out of bed, tears gently falling from your eyes. You make your way straight to your father's bedroom, it's a Saturday so he should still be in bed asleep. But he's not and an overwhelming panic sets onto you. You go and search the rest of the house hoping that he just woke up early today.

As you're searching you find a letter on the kitchen counter, and it reads

'Hi hun,

Left to do some training with Shinsou, I'm not sure when I'll be home. But if you want me to pick up food or anything on the way home just text me. Have a great day.

Love, Dad'

The letter only manages to make you sob harder. You just wanted your father, and he was just with another kid. With this thought, you started to spiral. With the thoughts that your father's going to leave you, just like your mother did. Maybe you should have become a hero, maybe he'd like you better. You start thinking of all the things you could've done wrong, all the things that could make him hate you like she did.

Eventually you start to recognize that you are not in the state of mind to be alone. But texting your father asking him to come home now seems like the scariest thing ever. So you settle on the next best person.

As soon as you had just simply said please he knew something was wrong. You never invited him over without telling your father. You respected your father to much for that.

As to his promise, Katsuki arrived 15 minutes later. He pounded on the door until you opened it; you weren't sure if it was because he was worried, or this was something he would always do if you didn't wait outside for him. But today you simply didn't have the energy.

You walk over the door quietly unlocking it before sitting back on the couch. Your boyfriend obviously hears you unlock it cause he's bursting through the door a second later. He scans the room looking for you and as his eyes land on your disheveled body, with tears still running down your face.

He gently wraps you in his arms, holding you as close as he can. "Talk to me doll what's goin on?" He just wants to know how to help you. The softness in his voice seems to only make you sob harder.

"He- he's gonna leave me- he's gonna leave- I'm not good enough he's gonna leave-" This only left Katsuki with more questions. Who was 'he'? It couldn't be your father would it? What would he have done to make you feel like this, Katsuki thinks he may kill your father if it was him.

"Who baby? I need to know so I can help you, I just want to help you." He gently rubs your back, the soothing motion help you to start sobbing a little less. But in the moment Katsuki thinks that any progress is good progress.

"My- my dad- he's gonna- he's gonna leave me just like she did-" Katsuki's suspicions are confirmed with this. It was about your father, and he could only assume the she was your mother. He knew a little bit of what had happened. He knew that you didn't have contact with your mother, but that was pretty much the extent to what you had told him. He really didn't know what to do, so he texted the one person who might.

"You good sensei? You look even more miserable than normal." Shinsou and Aizawa have always had a sort of playful banter while sparring. And even though they're on a water break they normally keep it going. And when Shinsou noticed that Aizawa was staring at his phone with his brows creased, of course he was gonna do some teasing.

"Sorry to call it quits early, but I have to go kid. Something's going on with my daughter." Aizawa is really panicking internally, wondering what he could have done to upset you. He doesn't know, he thought you had been fine. But obviously not.

"Oh you're all good, I didn't know you had a daughter Sensei." Shinsou was a little taken aback by that comment. Never having heard about this mysterious girl.

"Yeah.. have a good day Shinsou I'll see you Monday morning before classes."

"Alright see you then sensei, thank you." And with that Aizawa gets in his car has fast as he can. Thoughts racing, he just wants to know what's wrong with his daughter. What he did, so he can fix it.

He doesn't want you to feel like he's going to leave you like your mother did. He never would. He definitely speeds a bit on the way back to your guys apartment but honestly, he doesn't care. He just wants to hold his daughter and tell her that everything will be okay.

He quickly arrives at your guys apartment, due to the fact that it's not very far U.A. He rushes up the stairs to get to get to your apartment.

As he opens the door, he's greeted with the sight of you sobbing into Bakugou's chest. The boy looks up at him with a puzzled look on his face. This tells Shouta that he's made no progress figuring out what sparked this.

Quickly he makes his way to you and picks you up out of Bakugou's lap. The boy goes to resist it but he just sends a glare at him and the boy takes the hint. Allowing him to carefully cradle you to his chest, the way he would when you were upset as a child. This action causes you to only sob harder.

"I'm not leaving hun, I'm not going anywhere's. I'm not leaving." He just keeps repeating that he's not leaving you. And this manages to get you calm enough to form semi coherent sentences.

"Msorry- I was just being dramatic- I'm sorry-" you mumble this out with your face shoved into his chest.

"Honey, if you're this upset it's not dramatic I promise. I need you to tell me what's wrong hun, please. Let me fix this." With a sigh he holds you closer, he just wants to make you feel better.

"I just- I had a dream- more a nightmare I guess- of um- the day my mom you know- kicked me out- and then you weren't here.. and you've been spending so much time out of the house. And I know your training Shinsou and he's a nice kid and would make a good hero- but I don't know- I feel like he's taken up the little bit of time that we would spend together- it's stupid but part of me thinks you like him better because he wants to become a hero and I don't.." Once it starts to come out you just couldn't stop. You had told him everything you had been feeling. He looks at you with a look that makes it impossible to tell how he feels.

"I'm so sorry, kid. I should've thought about you would feel about this, but I need you to know nothing you could do could ever make me love you less, or love someone else more. I need you to know that I'm not going to leave you, not ever. I will not abandon you like she did. I promise I'll make extra effort to hang out with you, I'll call out of patrol tonight. Me and you, as well as Bakugou if you would like, can all hang out and have a movie night. Or whatever you want to do, anything to make you feel better. I'm so sorry." You start to cry again, but this time more of relief than anything. You had finally gotten the reassurance from him that you needed.

"Also hun, I don't care about you not becoming a hero, all I want is for you to be happy and do something you love. And I know analysis is that thing."

"Thank you dad.. but you um- you don't have to call out tonight I'll be fine."

"Nah it's alright, I'll just get Hizashi to cover and he'll do it no complaints." This causes you to giggle, you truly do love your father and Hizashi's relationship.

"I love you dad." You say this with a smile on your face looking up at him.

"I love you too kid."

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you're the one who breaks it. "I think that I want to try and contact her.." You whisper this not knowing how your father will feel about this.

"If you think that's what you need to do, then I'll support you 100%." The reassurance that he's not upset at the idea is comforting.

You notice that at some point your boyfriend had left. You figured that he just went outside, to the benches at the front of the building. Because you know that Katsuki would never leave you with out saying bye.

You spend the rest of the night sitting between your two favorite people feeling more content than you had in a while. And even though there was anxiety about trying to talk to your mother, you know that they would get you through it. And that was all the comfort you needed.

Okay so I definitely meant to finish my Shinsou x reader one shot before I finished this, but I got a little carried away when I started- soooo! Anyways I hope you enjoy! Happy reading <3

[nebulaafterdark]

Dracarys (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: if you know, you know. Post Dance AU

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, knife!play, smut, angst

This night Y/N decides, she is going to kill Aegon. When his back is to her, when he is least expecting it, she pulls out her knife. Stalking up behind him, she counts to steady her breathing. On one, two-

Aegon whips around, his own dagger held between them.

All the air leaves her lungs as he grins at her.

“Do it,” he dares her. “Or I will.”

Her hand trembles. “How shall I do it?”

“A clean cut across my throat, that’s what I would do. Make it quick.”

“Do it then,” Y/N decides. “Do it, free us both.”

“Providing a way out which allows you to cling to your precious virtue is not nearly as stimulating. I want my blood on your hands. I want you to bathe in it, choke on it.”

Y/N keens as he backs her against the wall, now trapped beneath their blades.

“Is it not what you want?”

“At times.” She breathes.

“What do you want in the rest of the time?”

“You said yourself, you and I are fated to dance.”

His lips are on hers then, before either of them can do a thing to stop it. Drawn together by an invisible string, one neither of them are able to press down and sever.

Her blade nips Aegon’s skin and a low groan rumbles out from his chest. “Sorry,” she apologizes, realizing what she’s done. “I am sorry.”

He drags the tip of his dagger along the front of her gown, tearing it open. “This is where I ordered my guards to cut your mother, so Sunfyre would smell blood.”

Suddenly she doesn’t feel guilty for cutting him, wishing only that she’d done it deeper.

“Even my dragon did not want to harm her.”

“Mayhaps that was your sign from the gods.” Y/N challenges.

“The same gods which sent you to me? I care little for their signs anymore.”

Y/N moves her blade to her side.

“Ah, ah, ah, my dearest love.” He brings her knife back to his neck, “we must get it out of your system.”

“No,” she whimpers.

Aegon clicks his tongue at her. “I wasn’t asking. Either we end each other here or you stop fighting me.”

“I do not know how to stop.” It has been too long, years of betrayal between them.

His eyes search hers, she is telling the truth. “It would require forgiveness.”

“Could you forgive me? Well and truly, for all of it? Tell me now.”

“Say please.” Aegon licks his lips.

“Tell me now, please.” This is a mockery. A performance, a show, but she wants-

“I could, in time. After all, I have little choice. We can’t go on like this.”

Y/N burns, the awful part of her tethered to him, pulled taut. “Please, I want to touch you.”

Aegon grits his teeth. “You will never raise a blade to me again. Swear it.”

“I swear this to you, on the memory of my mother.”

Aegon bats her knife away, “touch me.”

Y/N buries her hands in his hair, kissing him in earnest. Licking into his mouth, along the backs of his teeth, dancing along his tongue.

Aegon nips at her lips, peeling her away from the wall to sit on the bed. The ruins of her tattered dress join his clothes. “Is this what you want?”

Y/N hesitates, before nodding.

A slow smile spreads across his lips, “why?”

“Because there is no point in denying myself the comfort of being one with you.” You are all I have.

Aegon traces the line of her jaw with his index finger. Trailing down her neck and sternum, past her belly, to her cunt; finding her dripping. Without a word, he lines up his cock, splitting her open.

She lurches toward him in surprise. Pressing against his chest, “fuck.”

“Hush now.” He takes her wrists, pinning them to the sheets, on either side of her head. Staring down at her hands, curled into fists; he is overcome by the urge to hold them. Slowly he unfurls her fingers, linking his own between them and squeezing.

Y/N squeezes back.

“Keep your eyes on me.” Aegon breathes, rocking against her.

She pries her lids open, perfect lips ajar, fighting for breath. Any time he called for her in his bed, her eyes were screwed shut.

“Terrifying, isn’t it? To desire something so badly, beyond all reason?” He moves faster, fucking her in earnest and not just to pass the time.

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Be mine,” he murmurs. “Be mine and the rest will sort. You will not be lonely, you needn’t be angry or afraid, you will be mine and nothing more.”

“And you would be mine, in return?”

“If that is what you want.”

Y/N feels the coil in her belly tighten, “that is what I want.”

Aegon reaches down to her pearl, rubbing in tight circles, until her breath hitches. “I love you still.” He rests his forehead against hers. “I do not want to, I have tried so desperately to stop.”

“Please.” Y/N shakes her head, a fresh batch of tears falling upon her cheek.

“You need only say it once.”

“I cannot.” Y/N sobs, “I will die if I say it.” From the guilt and the shame, from the bitter truth of it all.

“The words taste of fire and blood, but you will feel better once you’ve purged them.”

Y/N grapples with it, though in the end, she is as powerless as she’s ever been to stop it. “I love you.”

The world explodes around them, collapsing in on itself, as they both burn.

Reborn from the ashes.

[jjmaybankshousekeeping]

long time no sex - jj maybank

summary - yn goes on vacation for two weeks, leaving jj horny as ever. when she gets back, she makes a decision with john b to try to go as long as possible without doing anything with jj, which she quickly fails.

warnings - full on smut, pet names (baby, babe, darlin’, sweetheart), words such as cock, pussy, shaft and hole are used, jj with a breeding kink?, oral (f given), hand jobs (m given), unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), lil bit of fluff.

a/n - this took me like two days cause i’ve never written full on smut before and i was struggling sm, please lmk what y’all think 🙏

word count - 2,198

post number - 8

reader - she/her, fem.

after a long vacation, yn couldn’t wait to see her boyfriend. the closer john b drove her to the chateau, the more excited she got to see jj.

she’d been gone for two weeks and now she got to see him again.

“yn?” john b broke the silence.

she looked at him, “yeah?”

“please don’t fuck in my house.”

yn made the most shocked face she possibly could, “what- why would we hav- what?!”

“i know you two; you can’t keep your hands off each other for two seconds, and jj has been dying without you here.”

“in what means?”

“he got a hard on from an eighty year old woman picking up her bag that she dropped.” he beat around the bush.

yn snickered, “oh my god! should i make him wait as long as possible just to tease him?”

“yes, definitely. i’ve been meaning to get him back for his pranks recently.”

“you? you’re gonna do the prank?”

john b chuckled, “no but if i agree to it then technically i’m in on it. right?”

“suppose so.”

“i don’t think you’ll be able to go five minutes - either one of you.”

“shut up, jb.”

after another few minutes, they’d finally arrived at the small home, where jj was already waiting on the porch steps. when he saw the van pull up, he immediately jogged over to the passengers side of the van, opening the door to pull his girlfriend out.

he pulled yn towards him as soon as her seatbelt was removed. he pulled her into a hug, as she wrapped her legs around his body.

“hi, baby.” she mumbled into his neck.

jj inhaled yn’s scent, “oh, i’ve missed you so much.”

“i’ve heard.” she looked at him, smirking.

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “what?”

“oh, nothing, jb just told me a little something on the ride over.”

he thought for a second, then immediately knew what she meant. he dropped his girlfriend to the floor, only after making sure her feet were on the ground, before turning to john b.

“bro. seriously?”

“it was funny.”

“no, it wasn’t.” jj defended.

“it really was.”

jj turned away, “fuck you, then.”

“aw, poor little baby, jj.” yn teased, “did you get a hard on from someone’s grandma? poor you.”

“i hate you.”

“can we go in now?” john b whined.

and so, the three of them went inside.

for a few hours, yn and jj laid in bed, relaxing, with netflix playing in the background while they conversed. everything was going smoothly until yn made another joke about grandmas.

“fuck you!” jj shouted, pinning his girlfriend down to the bed. yn squealed, trying to wiggle free as the blonde boy held her down by the wrists.

“you wanna carry on?” jj raised his eyebrows.

yn held back her laughter, “no.”

“are you gonna stop now?”

the girl thought for a moment, “no.”

jj got up in yn’s face, “what’s that darling?”

“no.” she got shy, lowering her voice.

“gonna have to do something about that.” their faces were practically touching at this point; they could feel each other’s breath against their skin.

before yn could even reply, jj pressed his lips against his girlfriends, their lips melted together as if it were in their body’s nature to do so.

their lips moved together quickly, but not too quickly. jj’s left hand crept from around yn’s wrist to around her neck, while his other hand slipped down to her thigh.

he gently pressed his hand against her neck - in response, her mouth slightly opened, and a soft whimper came out.

“do that again.” jj whispered into her ear.

“i can’t just make it happen, jj.”

jj moved his lips down from her lips to her neck, nipping at her skin, softly. he knew the response he would get this time - soft, quiet little moans fell from his girlfriends mouth.

his smirk pressed against her collarbone as he left small red marks on her skin. his hands moved to the hem of yn’s shirt.

“can i take this off?” he asked.

“yeah.” she whispered.

without wasting a moment, jj had already taken the girls shirt off and it was now laying on his bedroom floor.

yn’s hand quickly got tangled in jj’s locks as his lips pressed against her breasts.

“jj” she softly bit her lip, holding back a moan.

“good girl.” he praised, “i love your little moans, darlin’, but jb probably wants you to keep quiet. can you do that for me?”

she nodded, getting a soft peck on the lips in return.

jj took his own shirt off, then his shorts, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. by now, jj’s cock pressed against yn’s core, causing a lot of friction. jj removed his lips from around yn’s nipples, going up to her ear.

he nibbled her ear gently, “fuck, you feel what you’re doing to me, sweetheart?”

“fuck me, jj. i can’t wait any longer. it’s been two weeks.”

“tell me about it.” he responded, pulling down his girlfriends jeans, before going to pull off her panties, “this okay?”

“yeah.”

jj quickly discarded of his girlfriends final item of clothing, throwing it onto the floor.

his fingers made their way into his girlfriends pussy, not moving until after he’d spit to make sure it wasn’t going to be uncomfortable, even though she was already wet.

he started with two fingers, slowly pumping them in and out, getting yn’s pussy used to the feeling again. the moans that were now falling from yn’s ears sounded like music to jj’s ears.

jj nipped at yn’s thigh for a moment, leaving another mark, before his tongue made its way to her clit. as his fingers sped up, his tongue was soft, moving up her clit, qs if he was stroking it. as her breathing got heavier, jj sped up his fingers and tensed his tongue slightly, earning godly praise falling from yn’s lips.

“fuck- jj! that feels so good!” one of her hands was tangled in jj’s hair still, while the other was gripping on the bedsheets for dear life.

jj felt yn’s body start to twitch and shake beneath him, hinting that she was close.

waiting for a whimper, which usually let him know she was going to reach her high, he asked, “you close, baby?”

“mhm-“ she whimpered, biting her lip, begging her mouth to stay quiet.

gripping the bedsheets were no longer enough, and yn gripped jj’s hair with her other hand, basically yanking at it now.

jj slipped another finger into his girlfriend’s hole, and his tongue became more passionate as he licked her clit.

“jj! fuck, i’m gonna cum.” she moaned.

“cum for me, darlin’.”

jj’s fingers sped up, going as deep as he could get them, curling them slightly, in order to hit that spot that got yn to climax.

his fingers were now covered in a sticky, cloudy substance, “fuck, baby. you okay?”

“yeah.” she breathed, “that was so good.”

jj reached for a wipe, as he wasn’t one that was much for licking his fingers clean, wiping the cum from his fingers.

“you ready for my cock now, darl?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

she nodded, not giving him the consent he was after.

“verbal.” he spoke, in a low tone.

“yes. please, jj.” yn was practically begging.

finally getting the consent he needed, he discarded of his boxers, also tossing them to the ground.

yn got up to kneel, and wrapped her hand around jj’s shaft. she leant over to spit, making her movements smoother and less uncomfortable for jj.

they were both aware that she wasn’t giving him a full on handjob, just getting him completely hard, but she wanted to tease him a bit. her spare hand crept underneath to jj’s balls, giving them the slightest squeeze possible; jj’s head fell straight into yn’s neck as she stroked his cock, letting out a groan into her skin.

“fuck, baby.” he groaned, “don’t play with me like this.”

she chuckled, “just getting you warmed up, jay.”

while yn stroked jj’s hard on, he went back to pecking at her neck, occasionally nibbling and sucking at her skin.

“oh my god-“ jj held back laughter.

“what?”

“i just gave you a huge hickey, babe.”

yn’s irises widened, “what?!”

she picked up the closest phone to her, which happened to be jj’s and checked in the camera.

“jj!” she scolded, “my brothers are gonna kill me, you dick!”

“i can make it up to you?”

she smirked, as jj tilted in response, almost as if he were asking an actual question. almost as if they were in sync, jj practically dove at yn as she pressed her lips to jj’s.

jj lifted his girlfriend’s leg up and pulled her closer, pressing his cock against her core.

“you ready?” he asked.

“fuck, yeah.”

jj pulled out a tube of lube from his bedside table before smearing a small amount over his cock, then tossed it onto the pillow next to them.

“condom?” he asked, checking what yn wanted.

“nah. i’ve got plan b in your drawer.”

he nodded, then he rubbed his dick up and down her folds, teasing her by rubbing it occasionally on her clit, causing her lower body to slightly twitch.

when yn gave him the okay, he slowly pressed is dick into yn’s hole, trying not to cause her too much discomfort, as it had been a while.

“you hurtin’?” jj asked, genuinely concerned.

“no, just feels a bit strange.”

“am i okay to move then?”

she nodded, “mhm.” giving him the verbal consent she knew jj was after.

jj slowly moved back and forth, pushing in and out of yn’s pussy. he leant into his girlfriend, placing one hand on her hip, and the other on her jaw, before passionately kissing her.

their lips moved as if they were molded together, when jj knew that yn was okay, from the small moan that fell against his own lips, his pace sped up.

“baby-“ yn grabbed jj’s shoulder, “fuck- go faster, jj.”

jj’s hips thrusted in and out faster than before, hitting yn’s cervix, repeatedly.

yn could no longer kiss jj; her nails were currently digging into his back, as her teeth were softly pressing into jj’s neck, “fuck me, jj.”

“i am, darlin’.” he breathed.

by now they were both a complete mess, hickeys all over the both of them, teeth marks in jj’s neck, nail marks on yn’s hip and scratches across jj’s back.

jj threw his head back, flicking his now sweaty hair out of his face, in order to see his beautiful girlfriend again.

“fuck- you’re so beautiful.” he moaned, admiring yn’s body.

she pulled jj closer to her, as his cock twitched inside her and her vision was partially covered by white spots. she kissed jj, as they both couldn’t hold back anymore - their breaths became one, as they moaned and groaned in between kisses onto each other lips.

“i’m gonna cum, sweetheart.” jj informed yn, pressing his head into the inside of her neck.

“me.. too-“ she struggled to breath out.

as they were getting closer and closer to reaching their highs, jj’s hips slapped against yn’s skin faster and harder than before, he almost couldn’t control it anymore.

“can i cum inside you?” he asked.

“yes, fuck- please cum inside me, jj” she moaned, consenting once again.

with the consent he was given, he thrusted into his girlfriend a few more times, before the both of them had their orgasms.

jj pressed his forehead against yn’s, slowly thrusting, as yn held his head.

“i love you so much.” yn whispered.

“i love you too, baby.” jj responded, pressing a kiss to her lips, before flopping down onto the pillow next to him, “ow, forgot i put that there.”

jj passed the lube to yn, who then placed it into the drawer next to her.

both their chests were quickly moving up and down as they caught their breaths.

“can i clean you up, sweetheart?”

“yeah, jay.”

jj reached to grab a tissue from the bedside table next to him, and gently wiped around yn’s now sensitive areas, wiping the substances off her, then grabbing a wipe to properly clean her. he then threw them both into the bin before laying back down, only for yn to do the same cleaning process to jj.

“i don’t understand why you never clean yourself off after me.”

“guess i just prioritise you.”

“how cute.” yn joked.

jj chuckled, “shut up. wanna stay here for a bit or do you wanna get some food and a drink?”

“i’m kinda hungry.”

“let’s get changed then and we can go grab some food.” jj responded, getting up, before pulling his girlfriend up with him, making sure she stabilised herself before he let go of her.

they both got changed before they left jj’s room and headed into the kitchen area of the chateau.

while jj made food, yn went over to john b, and whispered, “i failed.”

“i know. my poor ears had to hear it all.”

[dadsbongos]

ANOTHER ONE

fucking stupid part 2 i did for my yuuji fic for ao3 :) and decided to post here lol

2.1 K words

warnings - 18+ mdni !!, pwp, penis IN vagina, thigh fucking, tummy bulge (+pressin on it), minor headlock action, yuuji is hesitant but not NOT into it, a lot of drool, mentions of sukuna's cannibal past (not sexified)

Yuuji excels at the single most important tenet of being a boyfriend.

Compromise.

A giver at heart and selfless and so, so loving, he practically bends to your every whim - something Nobara and Megumi love teasing him over. Yes, he would crab walk over glass if you so much as asked, but he will not bend to this.

“I don’t trust you,” Yuuji is stubborn on this, and this alone.

“I’m the reason you’re with her!” the red eye stabs him through your bathroom mirror, “You forget that, vermin!”

“You’re literally in my body,” he sighs, “And keep your voice down, I don’t want her hearing us argue,” at the unimpressed stare Sukuna levels him with, Yuuji only sighs louder, “I don’t know why you even think she’ll want you.”

“I know her body more than you could ever hope to, worm,” if Sukuna notices the way Yuuji huffs, he certainly doesn’t let it be known, “Studied it to perfection years ago, and spent my time in solitude remembering every detail. Every stretch mark and curve and swell of fat - I know her body better than you. I know it.”

Well, he was stubborn on this.

“Be nice,” Yuuji grips the smooth counter of your sink, he could never hold out against you and your batting lashes and sweet voice, “I’m taking over the second she seems upset.”

Another low-lidded, testing glare from Sukuna, and Yuuji shakes his head before throwing the bathroom door open.

“Well?” your fingers lace together in your lap, bottom lip tight between your teeth.

Centuries ago, in different bodies, the two of you were in this same position - with a different question on your lips.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Sukuna had settled in beside you, the tatami mat squishing beneath his heavy weight and he still towered over you, “Speak up.”

“Well,” you leaned back, head falling against your pillow and fluttering your lashes up at Sukuna, “Would you eat me?”

Rolling over, Sukuna planted a knee between your legs with two arms holding himself from crushing you, the remaining two curled around your waist, “How do you mean, hm?”

Reaching a hand up, your soft palm cradled the unhardened side of his face, giggling when his tongue lolled against the tip of your thumb, “You know how I mean.”

He did. It’s something you’d mentioned since falling into poor health - a stiff question that leaves his heart cold and skin raised. When he should’ve been used to this. He was. He’d eaten many people before you and, even then, he was certain he'd eat many people after you. You’d fed him. You’d helped Uraume cook his meals. You were used to this.

Sensing his hesitation, you slid your hand from his cheek to ghost your fingertips over his lips. Kissing the pads of your fingers, Sukuna’s lids were low as he stared down at you - and he knew the answer you didn’t want to hear.

“It’d be an honor,” you cooed, because of course you already knew which way he was leaning, “To be with you like that. Forever.”

“Greedy,” he teased, slipping from his knees to sit back. He scooped you up with his hold around your waist to settle you atop his lap, his other two hands cupped your cheeks. Your own hand moved down to the base of his throat, fingers tracing the bridge of his collarbones, “Eating you would be a disservice to this beautiful body.”

The word is nourishing, spring water on a dry tongue. You used to fear a long, drawn-out death (not death, not around Sukuna), you’ve seen these same sunken eyes and shaking hands in others. And you did not find them awe-inspiring. But Sukuna has given you no question if his eyes still fell upon you kindly.

You frowned and he scoffed, “You won’t even think about it?”

But Yuuji has no idea about any of that.

Yuuji sits beside you and takes your hands tightly between his, “I can always come back.”

“I know!” you lean in and kiss his cheek sweetly, “I’m just curious.”

Because there has to be something Sukuna can offer if he insists on maintaining this obsession with you (in front of your boyfriend, no less).

…

“Are you nervous, bunny?”

Your heart beats in your throat. Your palms soak into the sheets when you grip them. Your bottom lip is on the brink of bleeding between your teeth. But no, no you are not nervous.

No matter how much you probably should be. And no matter how much it should’ve taken, Sukuna doesn’t take long to put you on your back - lips locked to yours. He cackles cruelly when you huff after he pulls away.

Sukuna binds your knees together, plush thighs trapped against one another. Releasing one knee just to feed his cock through the wetted spot between your thighs, he quickly flushes his chest against the back of your thighs. Both arms winding around your legs to keep them shut around him.

“So wet from just a little kissing,” he stares down at where the head of his cock peeks out, kissing your clit on the way. He fucks your thighs slowly, taking earnest joy in how you whine.

Your teeth sink into the back of your hand at the sensation of Sukuna parting your lips and bumping your clit with his dick. He groans, deep in the back of his throat, when he can feel that gush of slick from your cunt.

“I knew this brat couldn’t care for my bunny as I can,” he slips from between your thighs entirely to press his tip inside you. Your chest rises in a quick gasp, jerking at the intrusion, “You missed me,” he states simply, settling his weight on his elbows beside your head as he teases slow thrusts, “Cunt’s sucking me back in,” he snickers at your squeaking as his hips speed up, “You missed me so much.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about. But you can’t call him on it when he’s clawing at your sides and thighs to flip you onto your stomach, perking your hips snugly against his.

“I’ve seen him,” his hand presses against your lower belly, thrusting down and deep and hitting that spot Yuuji magically detects and obsesses over - that spot that makes drool humiliate the corners of your lips, “That brat abusing your poor clit. Like you can’t cum without it.”

“Huh…” your mushy brain barely registers the disrespect to your boyfriend, “hey…!”

“Do you wanna show him I can fuck you better?” despite that questioning lilt, you don’t think a response could change his pre-determined mind, “I can make you cum without setting a fire between your legs.”

He pulls out slow and miserable, smoothing the hand not on your tummy down your back and curling into your hair.

Sukuna leans his weight into you when he bottoms out, he laughs watching your cheek smush against your mattress. He laughs as his hand untangles from your hair to squeeze around the soft fat of your hip. He laughs when you wheeze with the springs as he pulls out and thrusts back in, rolling his hips flush against you.

“What a good bunny I have,” he coos, slicking his hot tongue over the exposed flesh of your neck, relishing in how his skin audibly pap, papa, paps against yours. You moan, lightheaded, and your forehead hangs into your pillow. He presses on that spot where he bulges inside you, going mad over the choked gasp in your throat, “My sweet bunny.”

Curling an arm around your throat, Sukuna’s muscles squeeze around the soft flesh of your neck. Desperately, the skin of his chest clings to your back as he leans down, teething at the sensitive spot on your shoulder - the one Yuuji bites and the one he bit for himself centuries ago. Licking the sweat from your body and cackling as you squirm under the slick, wet run of his tongue.

His hips quicken, borderline battering that spot in your cunt to really make you messy. You bury your face into the soft pillow, but Sukuna ‘tsk’s and undoes the arm from your neck to lift your chin. He licks up the drool from your lips and swallows the pitchy moans he’s been starving for from behind Yuuji’s ears.

He consumes you, melding your skin to his and ensuring you cannot leave again.

“Good- “ he grits it between clenched teeth, “girl! Good girl. Good girl,” he grunts each word between thrusts. He groans, thick and gravelly, digging his nails into your soft skin, “My best fucking girl.”

Your face is on fire, the backs of your thighs clinging to Sukuna’s, and the wetness of your cunt stringing between the both of you. Loud, sloppy echoes of that wetness only make the fire burn hotter. You whine, hands scrambling back and clinging to Sukuna’s thighs, nails biting into the thick muscle.

“Aw, you’re squeezing me,” Sukuna refuses to slow down, bouncing your body on his cock from behind, “Are ya gonna cum, bunny?”

And any respect you were trying to maintain for your out-of-commission boyfriend is quickly tossed aside, “Yes! Yes, ‘m gonna cum, Sukuna…!”

“You want me to make you cum?” he reaches both hands down and takes hold of your face, fingers dipping into your open mouth, “Say it, bunny - fuck - say you want me to make you cum.”

As best you can through his fingers parting your lips and pressing on your tongue, you cry, “Please, Sukuna- please, please make me cum. Wanna cum, wanna cum with you, need you to make me cum…!”

“Need me,” Sukuna repeats, palms soft against you despite bullying his cock into your weepy hole, “Need me, need me, need me…”

“Uh… huh,” you whine, the coil in your stomach eats at itself and your thighs shake, “Need you, Sukuna! Need - hah! - need… cum, please!”

“Cum for me, bunny,” he teases his fingers further into your throat, just to see if you’ll remember.

“God- fuck!” your hands cinch around his thighs just as your cunt does to his cock, tugging him closer, deeper as you finally soak him in your cum. Chanting his name with a sugary, soft, “Sukuna! Sukuna! Sukuna!”

You don’t seem to recognize it, the need to cum overshadowing the need to meld your bodies into one.

His cock spits hot cum in your tight, sucking cunt despite the realization. He keeps himself pressed against you, dragging his fingers from your mouth and circling his arms around your soft waist.

Sukuna rolls onto his back, pulling you on his chest and letting his softening cock slip from you. He peppers your raw, marked shoulder in tender kisses - then moving to your neck - then your cheek. He feels your cheeks ball up in a grin under his attention.

Your ditzy head falls against his shoulder and he doesn’t know how much longer he has like this. So he ignores the cooling saliva on his fingers and the mixed cum flowing from your hole and onto his thigh. He never minded the mess before, and he certainly doesn’t mind it now.

“Don’t forget me, hm?” you blink up at him drowsily, “If you ever get tired of that brat.”

You don’t remember asking him to gobble you up, and you don’t remember wanting to clutch his hand in your final moments, but you still see something in him. Something he thought was sealed away long, long ago.

He misses you. Whatever life you shared, he hasn’t been able to mourn.

Giggling, you nod and kiss his cheek. He slips hair from your hair and studies the way you flutter into sleep. Commits it to his memory and lets Yuuji take back the body with little more than a scoff.

You rouse later in the night, feeling your bed dip beside you, a thick warm arm sweeping you into an equally warm chest. A steady heartbeat ba-dumps into your ear. You nestle into the cradle.

“Cleaned ya and then showered,” Yuuji murmurs, lips soft against your forehead, “I take it you liked the big guy?”

Snorting, you nod sluggishly, cheek sticking to his skin, “Mhmm.”

“Good,” he suddenly groans, “Sukuna doesn’t know anything!”

“Mh?”

“I can make you cum without your clit,” he pouts, looking down at you despite your closed eyes, “You believe in me, right, babe?”

“Mhm.”

“Exactly. Thank you!” he kisses your forehead this time, “Alright, we’ll try that another day. Get some sleep already, jeez!”

“Hm!” you huff fitfully.

“Okay, okay,” he whispers, “Shutting up now.”

And, for now, you ignore how right it felt to have Sukuna’s mean fingers fucking your mouth.

~~~

people i think will be into this @moonlitdivination @kingofthe-egirls

[tkwrites]

Quinn mentions he prefers meaningful tattoos, what's his reaction to Sarah's sticker tattoo when he first sees it?

gif from kawhh

The first time he saw it, it was in the dim in The Second Time is Better, but he thought it was birthmark.

It took quite a long time after that for him to realize it wasn't.

Seeing her real birthmark, on her forearm, which he thought looked a little like an oak leaf, he asked, "you have two?"

"Two what?"

"Two birthmarks. You have the one on your thigh, too."

Sarah felt her brows knit together, "I don't have a birthmark on my thigh."

"Yeah, you do. It looks like a heart," he said, settling his hand over her right leg, where he knew it was. He'd been meaning to get a better look at it, but got so distracted by the rest of her whenever she was naked, he could never remember in the moment.

Biting back laughter, she said, "Quinn, that's a tattoo."

"It is?"

"Yeah," she stood up and pulled her (his) sweats down to show him.

The sudden revelation of so much bare skin and her cheery underwear (blue cotton with lemons) had him momentarily distracted to speechlessness.

Finally, he remembered what they were discussing, and his eyes found the heart on her upper thigh.

Now that he was seeing it fully lit and not in the dim light coming in through his bedroom windows, he could clearly see it was a tattoo - too crisp and sharp to be natural. Also, "Is it purple?"

"Yeah. That's why I was so surprised you thought it was a birthmark."

He blushed a little. "I've only ever see it in bed, and just noticed you had a heart shaped something on your thigh. I'm usually a bit distracted at that point."

She giggled, pulling the sweats up.

"Why did you get it?" he asked, pulling her back into his lap.

"Hu?"

"This," he slid his hand to her ribcage, fingers just barely grazing the curve of her breast, "one means so much. What does this one mean?" His other hand came to rest on her thigh over the tattoo.

"It doesn't really mean anything other than I like hearts," she said. "I got it on a night out my senior year of college."

A wave of disappointment rang through him. "Were you drunk?"

She nodded. "Beth was teasing me about being too chicken to get one (she already had three), so I told her I would if she would. I'm just glad I had the presence of mind to get something small. Beth ended up with this giant flower on her shoulder blade she ended up getting removed a year later."

Quinn snorted.

"Are you disappointed it's a sticker tattoo?" she asked, thinking back to the first time he'd seen her tree.

He shrugged, "not really. I am glad it's not a whole sleeve or anything. My friend Trevor has one of those, and I just think they look kind of dumb all together."

"I can see that. I think it depends on what they are. If there's no theme, I don't love a sticker sleeve."

"Do you have any more?"

"What? Tattoos?"

He nodded.

"No. I've thought about getting one for my family, a bouquet of all of our birth flowers, but I haven't really decided where it would go, and what exactly I want it to look like. It took me two years to go through with this one," she said, gesturing to her ribcage. "The heart isn't bad, but the day after I got it, I realized I could have ended up with something really terrible, and it's made me a little gun shy ever since."

Quinn smiled, glad for that at least.

"You don't have any, do you?"

He shook his head. "I'll probably get one if we win the cup, but other than that, I don't really plan on it. They look painful."

She laughed, "oh, they are. The one on my ribs hurt like a bitch. I had to sit through three sessions, and if it didn't look so awful after the first two, I don't think I would have showed up for the third one. I'm pretty sure Davis, my artist, did that on purpose."

Quinn laughed, "smart man."

"Davis is a woman, but yes, she's very smart and very good at what she does."

"She's in Nevada?"

"Hawaii. I actually went to O'ahu to have it done. We did two sessions one weekend, and the third a month later, after it had healed."

He winced.

"Yeah, she really made sure I came back. Only the left part of the tree was shaded, and half of the poem was missing from the roots."

Quinns fingers traced absent minded patterns over her ribs.

"That's another reason I haven't gone through with the flowers. I'd like to have Davis do it, which means not only paying for a new tattoo, but a flight to Hawaii as well."

"Sounds like a real burden," he teased.

She snorted. "I just have to save up for a trip like that, and with school, it's not really in the cards right now."

Quinn hummed his agreement, wondering, not for the first time how Sarah seemed totally out of the loop when it came to his salary. Past girlfriends and even family members would have said something like that and expected him to offer to fund the vacation. With Sarah, she was just stating facts.

"So why a heart?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "It just seemed to fit. I've liked the shape since I was a kid."

"And why here?" he asked, rubbing his hand over her thigh.

She giggled, "that's because I was chicken. Tattoos hurt most over the bone, and my thigh is, like, the meatiest part of me, so I figured it would hurt less."

"Did it?"

"I don't really remember. I was pretty drunk," she said before musing, "I guess I would have remembered if it hurt more, so it must not have."

He chuckled.

"I can't believe you thought that was a birthmark," she mused, shaking her head.

"Hey," he defended, "every time I've seen it, I've been far more interested in looking at other parts of you."

"I guess that's fair," she giggled, turning her face to brush her lips over his.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

[lizajane2]

I was scrolling through TikTok and watched a short edit of a fictional couple saying goodbye. He's begging her to stay—let me repeat that— HE'S the one begging her to stay!

Which led me to watching the first season of Midnight at the Pera Palace. Why had I never heard of it before? I adore that it's set during the 20s; I've always loved that era. But anyway, I've got to vent about the main couple, so this is gonna contain spoilers for those who haven't watched it.

The way Halit looked at Esra from across the room in the first episode, I was gone. I was a complete goner. That look was perfection. It wasn't just awe, it was "I know you. I've known you forever, and I want you, only you." SOMEONE LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!

He is madly, passionately, and obsessively in love with her. And it drives me nuts. These two have altered my brain chemistry.

And I know he just killed another man, but the way Halit is holding her, his grip on her hand is even tight like he's desperate to keep her there.

The absolute yearning that is coming from him is so gut-wrenching in the best way possible.

And he said this, when he first met Esra in 1917:

Halit had me kicking my feet, giggling, and squealing like a little girl. Had me falling in love, too, damn. "You were made for me, weren't you?" WHAT?! That is insane behavior, good sir, and yet I melted like butter. And excuse me, but you don't need to look at her like that.

Prime example number 2:

They look at each other like they've been in love for years. And he doesn't even know her name! She never even told him. THEY MAKE ME SICK!!

But this, THIS RIGHT HERE:

For fuck's sake, kill me now!! How he grabs Esra to pull her close, leaving no space between them, is absolutely divine!! And then it gets so much better with his speech:

"I've been waiting for so long to see you again. I can't wait any more. Whoever you are, I don't care. Because the thing is we... we are meant to be with each other. You know it, too. I can see it in your eyes. I need you. And I'll do whatever I can to have you. And I can see that you need me, too. Destiny has brought us together."

I NEED THAT INJECTED INTO MY VEINS, TATTOOED ON MY SKIN!!

The soft caress of her cheek, how he tilts her chin up when he says "I need you. And I'll do whatever I can to have you." See, no, that's not... he's driving me absolutely wild!!

Halit: "But I'm in love with you."

Esra: "But I'm not in love with you."

She's stronger than me, cause girl why the fuck are you lying?!

And it's also insane behavior that Halit followed Esra through time when all he had to hang on to were fleeting moments. He even had a child on the way, but that didn't stop him. Nothing felt right without her. LUCKY FUCKING HER!!

His hand placement here:

IT MAKES ME WEAK IN THE FUCKING KNEES!!

"Don't leave me, then." "No. No. If you leave, my life will not be worth living, my love."

Who chooses to go back to their own time over him?!

Me:

[averagewriter-inthedark]

When Three Became Two 🪽| Platonic!Weasley Twins Imagine

Set during the Battle of Hogwarts

Harry Potter masterlist

Characters & Pairings: George & Fred Weasley x Sister!Weasley Triplet (platonic), the Golden Trio x weasley!sister (platonic)

Content Warnings: Character Death, sadness, angst, mentions of blood and major injury, profanity | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 7k

Premise: The dynamic redheaded duo Fred & George were never particularly close with their older triplet sister Y/N, especially after she was sorted into Slytherin during their first year at Hogwarts. It is not till the Battle of Hogwarts do the twins realize just how important family is, but by then it was too late to make amends.

(Y/E/C)- Your eye color

Note: I’m going to put red hair because you know Weasley but if you want to envision your own hair color that is totally fine too. Also, just so y'all know....I started this piece back in 2018 and recently picked it back up. So....the last 400 words are pretty much the most recent material I added + i did A LOT of editing. So I apologize if the beginning is trash because like I said, 6k of the nearly 7k words are from 6 years ago. I've been hyperfixating on the Weasley twins again which is why I was like 'maybe I should finish that imagine I started...'

Italics are flashbacks

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

Y/n Weasley felt the sweat and blood drip off her forehead as she ran through the halls of the school she had spent several years in which became a second home to her. She was out of breath, dodging and reflecting spells that were casted her way from the surrounding death eaters. Screams and shouts echoed from every corner, flashes of red and green light nearly blinding her (Y/E/C) eyes while her flaming red hair swished when she ran. Her breath was wavering, she could see several of her fellow Order members dueling around her. Passing the Great Hall, her pace nearly faltering when her eyes locked on the doors, the memory of walking through the first time when she was just a nervous little eleven year old began to play in the redheads mind….

Y/n sighed, stepping off the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Her twin brothers had already raced to the boats leaving the smaller, although older, of the three behind. Picking up her robes that were slightly dragging due to her small stature, Y/n followed her fellow classmates to the boating docks, casting a smile to Hagrid as she walked past him, who in return smiled back. She found a boat that already had two other first years seated, and quickly took the spot adjacent to a girl about her age.

“Hi,” the girl smiled to the redhead, “I’m Angelina Johnson. What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n Weasley, it’s nice to meet you,” the two shook hands with smiles.

“What house are you hoping to be in?”

“Honestly,” Y/n sighed, “I’m not sure. My whole family has been in Gryffindor, including my two older brothers who are currently here. It would be nice to be sorted there so I have my family, but I’ve always felt different.”

“Are those other two ginger boys your brothers?” Angelina pointed to the boat where Fred and George were laughing loudly while talking with a dark-skinned boy. Y/n nodded after looking where Angelina was pointing, turning back with a grim expression.

“Yeah, that’s Fred and George. We’re triplets, I’m the oldest of the bunch yet I never seem to be included in anything.”

“Aw, that’s not right,” Angelina said with a frown. The two continued to talk the entire boat ride to the castle, learning about their backgrounds and finding out  they had several similar interests. One could tell that the two instantly connected and were on the road to becoming best friends. The two girls got off the boat once it got to the docks, Y/n helping Angelina when she nearly tripped as she got out, to which the young girl was grateful for. 

“Oh my gosh thank you!” Angelina exclaimed, “That would have been so embarrassing.” Y/n laughed slightly, fixing the girl’s robes.

“No problem, I wouldn't want you tripping on the first night and being made fun of before classes even started.” The two girls followed everyone to the entrance of the castle, beaming in awe of everything they passed. Climbing the steps that lead to the great hall seemed like forever, but soon they were faced with an older woman who wore a pointed hat on top of her head and green robes. 

“Good evening,” she greeted, “I am Professor McGonagall. In a few moments, the doors behind me will open and you will enter the Great Hall where you will then be sorted into one of the four houses named after the four founding members of Hogwarts; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin--.” She continued to explain the four houses to the children before the doors opened. When they did, Professor McGonagall escorted the group into the Great Hall. Many looked at the ceiling, gasping at the candles floating in midair. Some caught the eyes of soon to be fellow classmates, the students sending smiles to the young ones. 

The group halted in front of the steps leading to the podium. The members of the head table gazed down on the children, Headmaster Dumbledore giving them a warm smile to welcome them making many feel more at ease. Professor McGonagall stood beside a stool, on top of it was a brown pointed hat. 

“When I call your name,” she said, capturing everyone's attention, “You will step up, take a seat on the stool and I will place the sorting hat on your head where you will be sorted into your houses.” Y/n felt her hands become clammy, nerves racking through here with each name being called getting closer to hers. When Angelina was called and sorted into Gryffindor, Y/n clapped for her with a smile, happy for her new friend. She immediately hoped she would also be sorted into the house to be with not only her older brothers, but also with Angelina. 

“Weasley, Fred.” The ginger boy raced up the stairs, careful not to trip over his robes and took a seat on the stool with a grin. The hat was placed onto his head and it took only moments before the hat exclaimed, “GRYFFINDOR!!” Cheers erupted from the lion house, the older Weasley boys, Charlie and Percy, clapping loudly for their brother and greeting him with open arms when he ran to the table. George was called next, the boy also running to the stool and the Gryffindor house applauded with joy once more hearing the sorting hat call out the name again. Fred and George embraced in a big hug, happy they were going to be in the same house and sat next to each other beside their brothers. 

The room went quiet and Professor McGonagall read out the name many had already guessed was next, “Weasley, Y/n.” The small eleven-year-old let out a shaky breath, ascending the steps before taking a seat on the stool. She flinched when the hat was placed on her head and heard a gasp emitted from it.

“Ahh another Weasley,” the hat began, “only you are much different than your many siblings huh? Loyal to your family, a trait you value, but Hufflepuff is not for you. There is no doubt you are brave like a Gryffindor, there will be a time your bravery will be put to the test, but there is a strong ambition that lies within you. You are a very determined young one, and will do anything to accomplish your goals.” Y/N felt her heart begin to beat faster as the hat continued talking, “So, there is only one house in which you will find what you are looking for and that is SLYTHERIN!!”

That day, while no one wanted to admit it, changed everything. The twins hardly ever talked to Y/N, even less than what they already had. Many of the Slytherins ignored her, not enjoying the fact that a member of the blood-traitor family was sorted into the notorious pure-blood house. Even though Y/N was of pure blood, it did not matter to them, she was still relatively shunned from her housemates. Professor Snape was displeased at first until she proved she had a talent for potion making, becoming more advanced than any student he had ever taught. It was then he treated the Weasley girl with some actual respect and even allowed her to practice in the classroom whenever she pleased as long as she promised to never let her brothers get their hands on any of the ingredients he stored in the room. 

Charlie, Angelina, and Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff seemed to be the only people besides her parents and professors that looked beyond the fact she was in Slytherin. Others included her older brother Bill, her younger sister Ginny and eventually Hermione Granger. The bushy haired Gryffindor met the older Weasley in her first year at Hogwarts. After being told of the talented potion maker from Ron, Hermione sought to meet her. Y/N was shocked when the girl first introduced herself, but it was the start of a treasured friendship Y/N held dear to her. 

“Hi!” a cheerful voice sounded, causing Y/N to look up from her textbook. Her eyes met the warm brown ones of a petite girl bushy haired girl sporting a Gryffindor tie and robes. The Slytherin girl gazed at her confused, looking around  the library in case she was addressing someone else other than her. By the warm smile the first-year gave her, Y/N realized she was in fact talking to her. 

“Uh hi?” she said with a questionable tone, brows furrowed. The girl stuck her hand out which made Y/N slightly flinch by how fast the movement was.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” she introduced. Y/N hesitantly extended her own hand, clasping it with the girl's small one and shook it lightly.

“Y/N Weasley.”

“I know,” Hermione smiled, “Ron told me about you. Well he did not tell me much except your name and that you were in Slytherin. He also mentioned you were really good with potions and Snape likes you.” Y/N could not help but slightly chuckle at the last sentence.

“I wouldn’t say Snape ‘likes’ me, but he certainly tolerates me more than my siblings. You’ve probably already seen that the twins are pranksters, they tend to cause him immense distress.” This made Hermione laugh and Y/N felt her lips curl up. She then noticed the girl holding several textbooks, one of which was a first-year potions book, “Is there anything I can help you with Hermione?” 

“I just wanted to get to know you,” the girl said warmly, which made Y/N slightly shocked. “Ron and the twins did not speak much about you and when they did they made it seem like you were horrible just because you were sorted into Slytherin. I know that a house does not define who a person really is, so I wanted to talk to you myself and it appears you are not a mean or evil person that your house makes people think you are.” Y/N could not believe what she was hearing and she could not detect any hint of a lie in the girl's words. 

“Wow,” She breathed, “Sorry, I’m just a little taken back. It’s been a while since I’ve really heard anyone say that. Only my older siblings, minus Percy, my parents, my sister, and a few people who I happen to be friends with think the same way you do. Ron and the twins just really ignore me.”

“But aren’t you and the twins actually triplets?” The question caused Y/N to frown and look down at her book.

“Yeah,” she muttered softly, “We are. Many people forget that we are because we never act like it, but it’s okay, I’m used to the two leaving me out. It happened before we were sorted into our houses so it does not bother me much anymore. I’ve learned to live with it.” Hermione frowned at that, feeling sad for the older Weasley.

“That’s not right. You guys are siblings, family. They should not treat you like that.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. One day they will realize how they act wrong, until then I can only be patient.” Hermione nodded though she still possessed a frown  and Y/N pushed away the many books laid on the table, gesturing for the girl to take a seat. “Here, sit down. You said you want to get to know me, so let's just talk while we do our homework and you can see how I really am compared to what Ron tells you. I’ll even help you with potions if you need.” Hermione beamed, placing her books on the table and sitting down across from the redhead. The two talked for hours until it was time for curfew, getting to know one another and Y/N offering help when Hermione had a question on a certain subject and Y/N felt it was the start of a blossoming friendship.

The years continued, and Y/N only had few friends, hardly ever seeing her siblings due to them all being sorted into Gryffindor leaving her alone. Her friendship with Hermione grew and she even looked at the girl as a sister, the Gryffindor looking at her the same way. Y/N and Angelina remained close even after being sorted in different houses. Despite having few friends, she could not wait to graduate and finally go off on her own, already planning to continue her work in potions and become a potioneer after spending countless summers devoted to perfecting different elixirs. Several events happened during her time at Hogwarts, including her sister Ginny unlocking the Chamber of Secrets and the tragedy of the TriWizard Tournament. 

When the Order of the Phoenix was back in business to stop Voldemort following the death of her dear friend Cedric, Y/n immediately joined despite objections from her parents. The death of her friend caused immense grief. She became depressed in the following months, hardly sleeping due to nightmares of his corpse and she rarely ate, resulting in her facial features becoming more hollow. It was not until she joined the Order that she was back to her normal self and that was because of her determination to bring justice to Cedric’s death. The Order faced great loss. The deaths of Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody and with her brother George losing his ear proved how real the war was and the fight to make the world a safer place. 

Now it was the second of May, and the fight of everyone’s life was in place. Death Eaters swarmed every inch of Hogwarts, attacking students whether they were armed or not. Y/N ran down the corridors, deflecting spells and sending jinxes back and forth. Her adrenaline was soaring, not knowing where exactly she was headed, but the only thing she knew was to survive and protect the students around her. Y/n never thought she would ever cast the killing curse in her life, but when a second-year Hufflepuff was about to be killed, the spell left her mouth before she could stop herself. The Death Eater fell back unmoving, Y/n took the hand of the small boy she saved and hurried him to the nearest dormitory or classroom. 

“Here, go!” she ushered him into the room, “Stay here and do not leave! Hide somewhere and be alert, you understand?” The boy nodded furishouly, his small body shaking and clutching his wand tightly in his hand. The redhead raced out of the room, closing the door shut before darting down the hallway. A flash of familiar hair caught her eye and her feet carried her to the source. “Ginny!” She shouted upon seeing her sister. The younger Weasley halted her movement at the sound, turning around only to collide in the older one’s embrace. “Oh my God,” Y/n breathed, “Are you okay? Why are you out here? I thought you were to stay in the Room of Requirement until this was over?”

“Harry needed me to leave,” she told her sister, the two moving to a corner where they were slightly hidden from the battle, “He needed to search the room for a possible horcrux. Once he went in, I left and came here. I couldn’t just let my friends and family fight with the chances of them getting killed and just sit and wait!” Y/n sighed, bringing a hand to wipe the sweat on her face which resulted in more dirt being rubbed. 

“While I don’t like you being involved, I understand where you’re coming from.” She pauses to rub her nose bridge, placing her hands on Ginny’s shoulders to look at her sternly, “Mum and dad might kill me for letting you fight, but there’s really no time to negotiate and stop you. At least find Neville or someone who can stay close to you and keep you covered, okay?” Ginny nodded, embracing her sister once more in a tight hug. 

“Stay safe, sis.”

“I will,” Y/n told her, “You stay safe too, I’ll see you soon.” The two pulled away and Y/n bolted away down the hall while Ginny rushed to Tonks after seeing her battle a Death Eater and rushing to her aid. Y/n turned the corner, something in her stomach dropping and her intuition telling her something bad was about to happen. She heard the sound of a duel taking place and followed it. Familiar voices echoed in her ears and her pace picked up. The redhead rounded the corridor, jets of light flashing in her eyes and she spotted Fred and Percy battling Death Eaters while Harry, Ron, and Hermione helped while dodging incoming jinxes. 

“Hello, Minister!” Percy bellowed, sending a jinx at the man, “Did I mention I’m resigning?” 

“You’re joking, Perce!” Fred shouted and looked at his brother. Y/n watched the two and in the corner of eyes she could see a Death Eater with their wand raised. Her brothers could not see the man, and she noticed he was pointing at the wall directly behind them. Before she could think, Y/n sprinted as fast as her feet carried her, eyes widening when the flash of light emitted from the want of the assailant. At that moment, nothing mattered other than making sure her brothers were safe. All the years of being ignored and looked down upon by them due to being sorted in Slytherin seemed to vanish, and Y/n felt water line her eyes as she got closer. 

“You actually are joking, Perce… I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were--.”

“Fred! Percy!” Her scream ignited and the two snapped their heads toward her just in time for the redhead to push them both out of the way at the exact moment the air exploded around them. The two brothers along with the Golden Trio were flown back from the impact, all landing onto the stone ground with a groan. Pain erupted to several areas of their bodies which would surely bruise. Dust covered them, their vision blurred from how much was in the air. 

Fred pulled his body up, groaning from the pain in his side and coughing from how much dust filled his throat. He scanned the area and saw how the wall he was in front of was blasted apart with stone and wood now covering every inch of the ground with a large pile in the middle. It took two seconds for the ginger to realize what had happened, the last thing he saw was his sister running at him before he was flown back. He immediately got up and rushed to the pile of debris, staggering over the stones while shouting his sister's name.

“Y/n!!” He screamed, moving at a fast pace. “Y/n, can you hear me!” The boy began throwing the many pieces of stone and wood away from the pile, searching for any sign of movement and listening for sound. Percy and the trio joined in, the group shouting Y/n name and digging through the debris. “C’mon Y/n I need you to tell me where you are!” Fred grew more and more worried, feeling his heart sink by the second. It was not until he heard a pained groan and rushed to the source. He spotted a hand peeking through the rubble and Fred shouted for the others saying he found her. They all rushed to him, removing the stone covering Y/n's body, allowing Fred to pull her out of the wreckage when they were able to get her upper half revealed. She let out a scream, pain erupting all through her and Fred tried his best to get her out as gently as he could. 

“I got you, sis.” He said with a shaky voice, “I got you.” With one quick but harsh tug, Y/n was removed from the rubble and was laid onto the floor. Everyone surrounded her, becoming frozen by how much blood covered her body. Cuts and gashes painted her skin, her clothing ripped and chunks of stone were embedded into the many wounds. Her breath wavered, gasping for air and they all felt their heart race at the sight. Hermione, with shaky hands, pressed a palm on to a deep cut in Y/n’s neck. The Weasley girl hissed, blood filling her mouth and dripping down her lips. 

“You’re going to be okay, Y/n,” Hermoine’s voice cracked, trying not to look at the many wounds which the girl could tell will be fatal if not treated immediately. Ron could see a large gash right above his sister’s temple and gently laid his hand on top of it, while biting his lip to stop a sob from escaping. He knew it was bad, and his sister was dying in front of him. They needed a healer, but the Great Hall was several corridors away and Ron feared she would not make it in time. Percy began calling for help, applying pressure onto her stomach which had been cut open when a large piece of wood had impaled her. Harry stayed on his feet with his wand ready for any threats while also keeping his eye on Y/n, his heart dropping at the sight of her battered body. 

“I can’t--,” Y/n gasped with a tired breath as Fred held her hand, “I can’t feel my legs.” She could hear them gasp, Fred’s hand becoming tense in her hold. 

“We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey!” Fred shouted and went to pick her up, the others keeping their hands on her wounds to hold the bleeding but when they tried Y/n erupted in wails from the pain filling her by the slightest movement. It was like a volcano, fire filling her blood. The thick liquid poured out of her wounds, her skin becoming pale. Hermione’s hands were painted red, as were Ron and Percy’s. The sound of her screams were so loud it echoed through the nearby hallway and caused tears to stream down Hermione’s face.

“Stop!” she shouted, “Fred stop! It’s too late, she won’t make it!” 

“You don’t know that!” He yelled back trying to get his sister into his arms, his clothes now coated in red. Y/n began to shake from the pain, becoming numb by the intensity and Fred started to panic. 

“Fred, she’s losing too much blood,” Hermione cried, “She’ll bleed out before we can even get her to the Great Hall.”

“Are you serious, Hermione?!” Fred shouted in disbelief over the chaos around them, “Do you even hear yourself?! She’s your friend and you’re gonna let her die!? ”

“Fred stop,” Y/n's hoarse voice whispered. The ginger boy looked down at his sister, her upper body being held up in his arms while the others continued to put pressure on her wounds but blood continued to seep through their fingers. 

“What--?”

“She’s r-right,” Y/n interrupted, “I-I won’t make it. The pain is too much--I-I can’t move and I'm losing too much blood.” She was shaking, fighting against what was pulling her to the other side to have a few precious moments with her family. “You need to get out of here, go find mum and dad.” Fred could not believe what he was hearing, neither Ron nor Percy. All three boys felt their eyes water and Fred tightened his hold on her. Percy grabbed her other hand, and Ron kept his on her head, covering her wound while tears flooded his face. 

“Y/n,” Fred stuttered her name, “We can get you to a healer. Madam Pomfrey will help and she will heal you, you’ll be fine.” The words were more to convince himself. He watched as her lips curled up, tired and broken eyes looking into his. 

“Fred,” she sighed, “You and I both know that I am not going to make it.” A sob escaped his throat.

“No! You’re not dying! You’re going to be okay!” He cried, dropping his head so his cheek rested on her hair. “You’re going to get out of here. You’re going to go home and learn how to walk again and become a potioneer like you’ve always dreamed of. You’ll get married and have kids…” He trailed off when sobs overtook him and he began to cry into her hair. Fred never believed he would ever have to watch his sister die in his arms. He had never felt more pain in his life than in that moment watching her gasp for air as her life started to fade away. What made it even more painful was knowing she saved him in the process, “I was supposed to die, not you! Not you!” 

Fred started to think back to all the times he and George would ignore Y/n, never including her in pranks or just ordinary things. The moment she was sorted into Slytherin they acted like they were not even related at times and Fred felt more tears fall knowing he could never make up for it. He won’t ever get the chance to show her how sorry he was. 

“Y/N go get your brothers and tell them supper is ready.”

“Yes mum.” Y/N raced up the many flights of stairs in the burrow in search of her twin brothers. When she got to the room, she knocked gently and waited for a reply but did not hear one so she pushed it open to see the two boys sitting on the ground in between their beds with several items in front of them. 

“Hey, hey!” Fred shouted in surprise and George started to gather their many inventions away from her sight. “You can’t just come in here without saying anything!” Y/N frowned at him.

“I knocked,” she told him, “neither of you responded.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, “Still does not mean you can just walk in our room unannounced. We are doing something very exclusive and can’t risk you snitching it to mum or dad or your pal Snape.” Y/n’s eyes narrowed at her brother.

“Snape is not my ‘pal.’ He just stands me more than you lot because you are always causing him trouble.” George mumbled something under his breath, but the girl could not hear it. “And besides, I haven’t told anyone about your previous antics so why would I do so now?”

“Oh please,” Fred said in an annoyed tone, “we know you told Filch that we were the ones who put fireworks in his office second-year.” Y/N’s jaw dropped at the accusation, her cheeks becoming inflamed as anger rose.

“I did no such thing!” she shouted, “whoever told you that was a lie! I never ratted you out to Filch and why would he believe me? He thinks I’m just as bad as you two because I’m a Weasley.”

“Sometimes I don’t understand how you are one?”

“Excuse me?” she said appalled, “What in the bloody hell do you mean by that?” The twins just looked at her with blank expressions while she felt her eyes begin to water. 

“Well first,” Fred started, “the most obvious is that you are the only one of us who got sorted into Slytherin. A house you know is full of pure-blooded pricks and bullies who hate everyone but themselves. You don’t like quidditch like the rest of us and prefer to be by yourself working on potions. Snape likes you, but hates the rest of us and you just have always been the outkast in the family. Who knows, you may even become a Death Eater like the rest of your housemates. Maybe you already are one and just haven’t said anything, wouldn’t be surprised you never tell anyone in this house what you are up to.” Y/n stayed silent when Fred finished, she felt a small tear fall down her cheek but neither of her brothers looked like they were unapologetic. She bit her lip giving a small nod and wiped away the drop.

“Mum wants you to know that supper is ready.” Turning on her heel, Y/n paced out of the room with the door slamming shut behind her. She shoved past Percy who simply glared at her for her attitude and bumping into him, obviously not knowing what the twins had said to her to cause such emotion. The redhead burst into her room, collapsing onto her bed and pushing her face into her pillow as cries erupted from her, being muffled by the pillow. She felt her heart break, her brother's words replaying in her head causing torment like a radio playing a horrible song over and over again. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he wept into her hair, “I’m sorry I treated you so badly. For everything. Ignoring you, pranking you in ways that had humiliated you and made you cry. Accusing you of snitching on us when you never did.” He held her close to his body, breaking inside each time she made a sound of agony. “I’m sorry for what I said to you during fourth year. I’m such a horrible brother,” he sobbed, “Please sis, don’t go. Don’t leave us.” 

“It’s okay, Fred,” she hushed him, stroking his arm with the hand Percy wasn’t holding. The two other Weasley boys were sobbing next to her. They two often treated her unfairly and were now going to live in tremendous guilt and despair, begging God to not take her. “It’s okay,” she said again, this time quieter.

“Y-Y/N,” Percy stuttered, but she simply hushed him.

Her voice grew weaker, and the group knew it was only moments before she would be gone forever. “It’s gonna be okay. I love--,” it was getting harder to speak, but she was fighting. “I love you all.”

“We love you too. We always will,” Ron said and Hermione started to cry harder, leaning onto Ron for support. Harry no longer looked around for Death Eaters, his own face drenched in tears at the sight in front of him. He felt anguish in him, seeing another friend die at the hands of those who wanted him dead. 

“You think I’ll see Cedric up there?” She questioned, eyelids falling shut and the image of her best friend filled her mind. Happy at the thought of possibly seeing him again. Fred let out a small cry before she felt him nod. 

“Y-yeah,” he croaked, “He’ll be waiting for you. You’ll be together again just like before.” 

“Freddie?”

“Yeah, sis?”

“Take care of George,” she managed to breathe out, “Tell him I love him.” 

“I will,” He sniffed, feeling her take one last breath.

“Promise me you will live.” The air left her body one last time, the pain no longer present and Y/n felt at peace, unable to hear Fred’s last words to her. 

 “I promise. I love you, sis.” But Y/N did not respond, causing him to gently shake her.  Her lack of reaction caused Fred to collapse into a heap of cries when her body finally went limp in his arms. “Y-y/n?” 

Percy felt her hand become unmoved and he too, cried in heartbreak. Ron held onto Hermione, turning his body away so he did not see his now dead sister in his brother’s arms. His heart was heavy with agony and he could not help console Hermione for he was in the same state. Harry dropped his head, sadness all within him at the loss of someone he looked at as family. He would never forgive himself, and he wished nothing more for Y/n to be brought back.

“Y/n,” Fred tried again, but to no avail. “W-wake up. Please w-wake u-up.”

The Golden Trio had to force themselves to leave, to continue their search before more people died. Harry and Hermoine having to drag poor Ron away from his siblings. None wanted to go, but time was limited and it took all their strength to get up and leave Percy and Fred with Y/n’s body. Promising Ron they’d get her to their family once it was safe to do so. 

The two Weasley brothers lost track of time. They stayed put, mourning the loss of their sister until the battle ceased and they were drained of tears. It soon became quiet in the castle, Death Eaters had retreated upon Voldermorts order and bodies laid all through the halls. 

“We should take her to the Great Hall,” Percy spoke with a dry voice, hoarse from all the cries. “Take her to mum and dad.” Fred was still, looking in front of him at the dusted hallway full of debris from the explosion that killed his sister. She was still held close in his arms, eyes closed and the blood stopped flowing but coated every inch of her skin along with Fred’s clothes. It took all his might to look down, eyes landing on her face. She looked peaceful, her lips slightly curled as though she had died smiling and that gave Fred some sort of comfort despite her damaged body. 

That she left the world at peace. 

“You think she’ll watch over us? Even though we treated her like shit?” His voice cracked. The older Weasley gazed down at his little sister, a small yet heartbroken smile on his lips and he cleared his throat. His hand came over her forehead to move some of her red hair, flinching at how cold her skin was.

“Yeah,” he said, “I think she will.” Fred carefully stood, cradleling Y/n in his arms. Percy rose beside him, grabbing their discarded wands and leading them out of the hallway, careful to avoid the debris around them. They reached the Great Hall, hearing the sound of others. Many were painful groans, others were cries of despair. The two emerged in the doorway, paying no mind to those around them and instead continued to walk forward until they saw their parents, Ginny and older brothers Bill and Charlie. Ginny was the first to see them, and rushed to them relieved they were okay and searched for her sister, but when her eyes landed on what was in Fred’s arms she halted. She could see the flaming red hair similar to hers and the blood stained clothing on the unmoving body. Her mouth went agape, hand flying to cover it as her eyes filled with water threatening to escape.

“Please tell me it’s not--.” But Percy simply shook his head, looking at his baby sister with sorrow and Ginny let out a small scream, falling to the ground but was caught by Bill. He stared at the Y/n’s lifeless body, his heart breaking into pieces and he tried desperately to console Ginny, but found it hard to battle his own grief emerging. Molly and Arthur ran upon hearing their daughter’s scream and froze when they saw their son.

“Fred,” Arthur said in a hesitant voice. His son looked at him with tear filled eyes, lips quivering and for Fred, he could feel his body start to shake.

“I-I-I,” he could not find the words, “S-she saved us. She saved us…..” His knees nearly gave out and his brothers Percy and Charlie helped him lower their deceased sister onto the ground. After gently placing the fallen Weasley onto the stone floor, Fred once more collapsed over her body as his grief overpowered him once more. Molly fell back into her husband’s arms, wailing in agony, he too had trouble holding her up as his body racked with sobs. Ginny was still on the floor, being cradled by Bill while Charlie and Percy stood over Fred, rubbing his back with tears of their own falling. 

Onlookers watched with solemn expressions. The sight was gut wrenching but unfortunately resembled many throughout the Great Hall as friends mourned friends and teachers draped blankets over their deceased students.

“No! Not my girl!” Molly screamed, “Please not m-my girl.” She fell to her knees, crawling over to the opposite side of her daughter's body and caressed her cold cheek. Blood was all over her precious face, adorned with cuts and gashes, the most horrific on her head and neck. Molly did not even want to look down at Y/n’s body, for she was afraid of what else had happened to cause her daughter such a horrific death. Arthur could see the gaping wound in Y/n’s torso, his stomach lurching at the sight and he had to turn away as he felt nauseous. 

George burst through the entrance of the Great Hall. He had separated from his family and Fred at some point during the battle which resulted in his anxiety to soar at not knowing where they were. He heard the wounded were being treated in the Great Hall along with the bodies of those who perished being moved until further notice, so the ginger bolted to the location as fast as he could. His eyes scanned every inch of the large dining hall, and soon he could see a group of people with the same colored hair as him, instantly relieved. 

George walked with a rushed pace, slowing with confusion when he heard the wretched cries of his parents and siblings. They were all huddled, blocking his view of the ground. He immediately looked for Fred, becoming relaxed when he saw his brother alive. But George’s stomach dropped at the broken look painted on his twin’s face.

“F-Fred,” he stuttered out as he approached him, “what’s wron----.” Something behind Fred’s shoulder caught his eye, George’s gaze falling to the still figure on the ground. That’s when he realized the fact Fred was kneeling on the ground, hovered over the figure, and his mother was sobbing into their neck. 

His twin lifted his head, turning to meet George’s eyes, which revealed the horrific reality waiting for him. There, lying on the stretcher covered in a dark red--almost black--substance and nearly unrecongnizable, was his sister Y/n. Unmoving. Dead. 

All the air left George’s body, face consorting to match his family as he took in sight. The clothes she wore were tattered. Dirt and grime painted the visible parts of her skin not coated in her blood. Gashes upon gashes. A nasty intrusion on her temple and torso. George felt the bile form in his throat and before he could stop it the redhead was hunched over, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Arthur instantly went to him, rubbing his back. Once it appeared George had got it all out, Arthur produced a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his son's mouth as he had seemed to freeze.

“Y-Y/n,” he dropped to his knees. Crawling to Fred and their mother. His twin slightly moved aside to give space. George instantly reached for her hand, devastated when the cold touch hit his skin. “No.” Tears dropped from his eyes, George looking to his family for them to say it was all a nightmare. “N-no. No!” 

“George,” Molly whispered, reaching over to comfort him. 

He shook his head, not wanting to believe the truth. “What happened?!” Fred winced, returning to a heap of sobs. 

“She saved us,” Percy whispered, making George look up. “There was an explosion. A-and she pushed us out of the way. A wall came crashing down,” the older Weasley boy flinched, head dropping as he relieved the most horrifying moment of his life. “It crushed her.”

Molly wheeped into her daughter's chest. Picturing the scene. Unable to save her baby girl who she had spent so long wishing for. 

For the twins, it was like a piece of them was now missing. Creating a hole deep in their hearts. They all came into the world together. Y/n first, then Fred, lastly George. How were they supposed to go forward without the third piece of their puzzle? 

This question only surfaced the ocean-sized guilt swimming in their veins. Like Fred had done in the precious moments he held their dying sister, George was replaying all the times he had tormented Y/n. The constant pranking. Humiliating her in front of her friends and schoolmates. Getting her in trouble with their antics when she took the fall. Accusing her of snitching on them. 

George crumbled, clutching onto Y/n’s hand as he lowered his head to her torso. Praying to whoever above to take care of her in the afterlife and begging her spirit to forgive him. Wishing he could turn back time to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted his sister back. 

A cold breeze brushed his ear, almost like a whisper. George thought he felt a hand on his shoulder, but when he turned the closest person to him was Percy, and he was at least five steps away. 

Whatever it was Fred had felt it two. The redheads glancing to one another, anguish filling their gaze. For they had their suspicions of what--or who--was responsible for the touch. 

Turning back to Y/n’s body, Fred and George pictured what life was in store for them without their sister. Reality sunk in. No longer a bright light, but instead dimly lit. 

For what was once three became two. 

[hisunshiine]

—college nights, diner fights | jjk

pairing: waiter!jungkook x waitress!reader au/genre: diner au, e2l, angst, smut, fluff rating: M wc: 9,664 warnings: POV switches (obvious, tho) mentions of domestic abuse and alluded infidelity (parents not pairing), JK's mom has terrible boyfriends and his dad is a petty "Disney" dad, Reader's parents are better but not around often, mentions of Jungkook having to protect his mom from the bad boyfriends, mean teachers, enemiesssssss, triggering middle school memories can be brought up upon reading the banter of middle school JK and reader LOL but also not LOL, swearing, vulgar statements, forced proximity, secret mutual pining, a drunken physical altercation/assault at work (mild), mentions of blood, minor cuts/scrapes, kissing, tattoo tracing SMUT warnings: oral (f receiving), praise an: shoutout to my beta readers @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @mrsparkjimin18 @peachiilovesot7 for helping me get this thing done in time despite me being on vacation and dragging my feet! thank you all so much for the motivation, for brainstorming, and just all around positive feedback! summary: If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen! You and Jungkook have been enemies for as long as you can remember—elementary school even—and when Seokjin hires him despite knowing this, you have to call a truce during working hours. When an incident at work leads Jungkook, and you, to put things into a different perspective, will the heated diner fights become a passionate college night? Or will it fizzle before it can start?

Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by ME of @bangtanwritershq

My Big 3 are: Sun (Member): Gemini- Jungkook, Moon (How They Met): Scorpio- Late Night Diner, Rising (Trope): Libra- Enemies to Lovers

Part 1: Elementary School

Elementary school is supposed to be fun. For you, 11 years old and in the fifth grade, elementary school is perhaps the best time of your life so far. Your dad signed up for career day, and you are excited beyond measure for him to come in and meet with your class to talk about his job.

It’s rare that you get to spend time with your dad, as his job keeps him pretty busy. The fact that he was able to show up today was a miracle in and of itself, but he negotiated presenting first so that he could leave first to get to work. 

“Everyone, please welcome our first parent speaker, Mr. Cha.”

Your classmates applaud as your dad steps forward to the podium in the front center of the classroom and you beam from ear to ear. He looks all spiffy—hair styled well, suit pressed, and shoes shined. 

“Good morning, boys and girls, I am Mr. Cha, and I am here to speak to you about my career. To be honest, I have two jobs,” he pauses as the kids, including you, look at him in both awe and confusion, “I am the father to that little girl right there,” he points to you and you giggle. “That is a full time job all on its own, but for the other time spent working, I am a plastic surgeon.”

You can’t help the pride you feel from your classmates clapping as your dad shares. He talks about the schooling needed to get to his position, shares study tips for the transition to middle and high school, which—while still some time away—will be good to begin practicing even now. 

“You’re so handsome, Mr. Cha! Have you ever had any work done yourself?” one of the students asks during the question time.

“Ah, great question! I have tried some of the treatments that we offer at my clinic, because if I don’t believe in it, why should others have faith in me and the services I offer?” he explains. “I had a colleague of mine fix my deviated nose bridge, which I injured playing basketball in college, and I maintain my skin with various anti-aging treatments as well. It’s important to start taking care of your skin even at this age! Princess, come help me please.” Your dad gestures to you, and you rise from the chair, only a little embarrassed at him using your nickname. “Help me pass these out to your classmates.”

You begin walking around the room, placing the small cardstock printouts on each of your classmates’ desks as your dad continues speaking.

“These are coupons for my office. You can give these to a family member, or if your parents will allow you to come in, we offer a free consultation to check your skin, and a reduced rate for any skin care products or procedures for any of my princess’s classmates and their family.” He wraps up his presentation there, pulling you into him for a side hug as he smiles at your classmates and the other parents waiting in the wings to present. “Thank you for letting me present, I’ve got to run because I have a rhinoplasty scheduled today, and I need to prepare, but I had a lot of fun talking with you all today!” As your dad kisses your forehead, he whispers a quick goodbye as he leaves your classroom. You’ve never felt so proud.

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“Okay, everyone, let’s line up for P.E.,” Ms. Kim directs, and you jump in line with your peers to walk down to the field. Your classroom teacher disappears for his break as Ms. Kim takes over, and thus ensues a battle between your class as you play ‘Capture the Flag’. 

“The rules are simple,” Ms. Kim explains, “a ball is placed on each side of the field in that box.” She points at the four cones creating a safe zone with a kickball inside of it. “Once the game begins, players have to cross the midline into ‘enemy’ territory to try and capture the ball and bring it back to their side. The other team has to stop you from stealing the ball by pulling the flags to remove your waistband—no tackling! Understand?”

“Yes, Ms. Kim!” 

“Good. If your belt is pulled off, you stand off to the side at the cone here, okay? That’s the jail. To rescue your teammates from jail, you have to high five them. You must return to your side before attempting to go after the ball again. Once a player enters the box, they are safe, but they cannot stay in there forever…” 

You tune out Ms. Kim because you already know how to play, and instead busy yourself with wrapping the tan belt around your waist, adjusting the position of the three blue flags hanging from it. The red team moves to their side of the midline, and you stretch your legs idly as you wait for the teacher to blow her whistle. 

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Huffing, you pout as you walk to the jail cone, re-attaching the waistband that your classmate pulled off. He’s put you in jail several times now, almost as if he’s targeting only you during the game. It’s getting a little irritating, since Jeon Jungkook is the fastest boy in the fifth grade, but he’s spending all of his time chasing you instead of helping his team win. Even now, he’s guarding the jail so your best friend can’t come to save you again.

“Dang, JK, you pulled her flag again?” Kim Taehyung snickers loudly as he jogs over to where you’re held captive.

“Can’t let the princess get everything, now can we?” he taunts, a sarcastic tone to his words.

Kim Taehyung, unable to whisper to save his life, leans into Jungkook and asks, “Do you think her dad worked on her face? No way she’s that pretty on her own.”

Your feelings are split between irritated and pleased at the backhanded compliment. 

“She’s not that pretty, it looks more like her dad messed up her face, ‘cause she’s so ugly,” Jungkook counters, and it’s hard to decipher if his cheeks are red from playing or from talking about your looks.

“But, you said last week that she was—”

Ms. Kim’s whistle blows to end the game, and you miss the end of Taehyung’s statement. Walking away from the two fools, you barely get a foot outside of the jail zone when a sharp tug at your waist stops you in your tracks. You look down and see your belt missing, and hear a soft thud a few moments later as it hits the grass in the opposite direction several yards away.

Taehyung is laughing, his large boxy grin behind his hand as Jungkook smirks at you. 

“You lost.”

The two then take off towards where your teacher is collecting the game belts, leaving you to backtrack to get yours.

“What took you so long? Everyone else has already returned to the building. Taking your time  to head back to class is not good sportsmanship.”

“But, Jungkook—”

“No excuses. Hurry up and get inside.”

Jogging back to the building, you get another scolding when you reach the classroom, with your teacher telling you that just because your dad is a surgeon and came for Career Day does not mean you get to behave this way. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Jungkook eats up every second of the scolding, seeming to enjoy the way you wilt as it continues. As you walk back to your seat, you don’t see Jungkook stick out his foot, and you trip loudly as the desks and chairs nearest you clatter and clang as you try to regain your footing.

As the boys snicker at your forced clumsiness, you vow to yourself that Jeon Jungkook is the worst person to exist, and you will hate him for as long as you live. 

Part 2: Middle School

Jungkook’s had a hard week. Chuseok just ended, and he had to spend it with his dad’s family instead of with his mom this year, per their divorce agreement. He’s partially thankful because it allowed him a moment to rest. His hypervigilance with his mom’s new boyfriend is tiring, and his grades are suffering for it. But Jungkook is tired of these men sniffing around for a piece of the ‘supposed’ alimony his mom receives from his dad, because everyone was aware when the CEO of Jeon Industries divorced his wife and married his secretary. Jungkook begged to switch schools, but his parents refused, despite it being reported on several news outlets for a month in sixth grade. 

Eighth grade hasn’t been so bad for him though, no one talks about the divorce anymore, and Jungkook is able to be just Jungkook, known for his athletic abilities and gaming. He was able to guilt his dad into a new gaming computer, since he forgot to take him back to school shopping, and Jungkook is able to help his mom pay the bills each month with the earnings he makes betting on Overwatch. 

So when he returns back home, tired of hearing tales and seeing pictures of the trip to Cancun with the new baby that conveniently interrupted the planned shopping trip, to see his bed holding a Nike box with the shoes Jungkook begged his mom to get at the start of the year, he’s elated. He erupts into shouts and whoops of excitement, running to the kitchen to hug his mom.

“Ouch!” she can’t hide the wince as Jungkook pulls back from the embrace.

“I didn’t even squeeze you that tightly, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing, you know how clumsy I am, I ran into the dining room table the other night—”

Jungkook doesn’t even think as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, barely lifting it to see an ugly burgundy bruise spreading across her abdomen.

“Mom! Did he do this to you?” Jungkook demands, fury building in his body. 

“N-no, honey, you know how I c-can be,” she stutters through the lie, but they both know the truth. 

“Mom, if he did this because of money, just return the shoes, it’s fine.”

“No. I bought those for you. You deserve them.” His mom is resolute, turning away and adjusting her shirt as she goes back to cooking dinner. “Plus, we broke up. He won’t be back.”

Up in his room, Jungkook readies the shoes for school tomorrow. He has a few nice things, his dad is a CEO after all, but after the divorce, Jungkook chose his mom, and his dad took it personally. His dad didn’t understand, but the choice was clear to Jungkook. His dad had a new wife, but his mom had no one. Jungkook couldn't leave her too. But his dad became spiteful after that, and so Jungkook can’t take most things his dad buys him to his mom’s house, including certain clothes and shoes. 

It’s why he’s so upset about his dad missing back-to-school shopping, because those were usually the only things he was allowed to take to his mom’s, but this year he has nothing new. Not until his mom bought him the Nike Dunks he’s been coveting. Jungkook is happy, proud of his mom for choosing him over the newest boyfriend, and lying in bed, he finally feels like maybe his life isn’t so bad. He hears a knock at the door, and his mom’s tired feet shuffling to answer it.

“Please, Jongyeon-ah, I promise, it won’t happen again.” 

Jungkook rolls over, grabbing his headphones to drown out the sounds of the pleading, good for nothing, weaseling himself back into his mom’s life.

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 “Yo, Jungkook, those dunks are fly!”

Jungkook props his shoes up on the desk next to his in class, showing off the brand-new kicks to Taehyung.

“Yeah, they're limited edition.” Jungkook knows his response is a little douchebag-esque, but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted these shoes for the longest time, and after all of the bullshit he dealt with during Chuseok and now waking up to see that greasy slimeball his mom said she was done with shirtless at the table for breakfast, he just wants to pretend for once that his life is perfect. 

“Take your crusty shoes off my desk,” you scoff. Jungkook ignores you for a few seconds, leaving his feet where he has them propped on your desk. He hates that you called his shoes crusty, knowing that they’re not. They don’t even have a speck of dirt on them! He made sure of that upon his arrival, being overly cautious with each step and wiping away any blemish he perceived to be there.

“Awe, is the princess jealous she doesn’t have the limited edition dunks?” Jungkook can’t pinpoint when this rivalry started, he just knows that for as long as he can remember, the two of you have been enemies. 

“There’s a reason the supply is limited. It’s because they’re ugly and they stopped making them once they realized someone would have to be an idiot to wear them. You sitting here with them just proves this point.” You push his crossed feet off your desk and he lets you, but Jungkook holds you in his glare.

“One day you’ll stop being a hater, drowning in all that Haterade you’ve been drinking,” Jungkook makes a play on words, and his friends ‘ooooh’ and high five at his middle school burn.

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At lunch, Jungkook precariously steps between the seats to avoid damaging his shoes. His shins are starting to hurt from how he’s walking to avoid creasing his sneakers, but it’s worth the pain to him. He’s successfully avoided getting any food on his shoes from the sloppy eaters, and as he makes the last stretch to the door, a loud yell catches him off guard.

“Watch it!”

Nayeon, one of your lackeys, warns everyone as she’s bumped by you and her red sports drink goes flying. Jungkook is stuck between tables, backpacks cluttering the aisle and Nayeon’s body flailing taking up all of the space. It all happens in seconds—a hip check, a flying drink, and the contents now strewn across the floor and Jungkook’s new sneakers and laces now stained a bright red, dripping across the leather and fabric of his brand new, limited edition Nike Dunks. 

“Oh my god, Nayeon, you are so clumsy!”

Jungkook gawps at you, unbelieving, as your annoying voice fills the silence that took over the room only moments before.

“So sorry, Jungkook. Nayeon bumped into me and then she spilled her haterade—I mean Gatorade—all over your new shoes! I hope those weren’t hard to get or anything! I’m sure your CEO daddy can get you a new pair.”

Jungkook storms from the room, seething at your audacity. If you had any idea about his life, would you treat him this way? He wishes you could walk a day in his shoes, maybe you would realize that life outside your perfect, princess bubble is not always sweet, and would think twice before being a bitch to him, but it’s too late for him to change his view of you. You are the devil’s spawn and Jungkook has never hated someone as much as he hates you.

Part 3: High School

Getting into BTS-U should be easy for you, what with your dad being an alumnus, but you don’t want to rely on nepotism. You’ve been working your ass off for good grades all four years of high school, and the final determination of your competency is about to start. Only one student can represent your high school as the Youth of the Year, winning prestige and honor by being granted early admission into any four-year university in the country of their choice without needing CSAT scores. 

The last of the trials, the oral interview, is scheduled for today and as you sit outside the room in the creaky, overly hard chair, your heart pounds. Of course, the final two students competing for this merit would be the two students who despise each other the most in the school, making the competition that much more important to you. 

You cannot lose to fucking Jeon Jungkook.

“We’re ready for you!”

The chipper voice startles you from your thoughts as you steel yourself to go into the final challenge. 

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“Thank you all for your participation in the Youth of the Year program. As you know, the contenders were all very high achieving and will have plenty of options available to you for your future. Do not let not being named deter you from the future awaiting you all. Now, today, we interviewed the two finalists from this wonderful school, and while both were outstanding, one student really opened up and shared a vulnerable side to him that inspired us. He has already begun an incredible journey in his young life, showcasing a will to succeed. Jeon Jungkook, please stand.”

The crowd in the auditorium bursts into applause as you burst into tears. The one good thing about this ceremony is that the finalists do not sit on stage, so in the chaos and celebration, you are able to sneak away to the bathroom. Jeon Jungkook looked so shocked to have been chosen, but you knew that he couldn’t actually be shocked. His mom stood up with him, hugging him with pride, and your parents couldn’t even be bothered to show up for such an important moment. 

You tell yourself it’s not a big deal, that you have done well and will most likely have the same options for college as Jungkook does, but being a Youth of the Year finalist is not the same as being the Youth of the Year. What really hurts you the most is that if the roles were switched, Jungkook’s mom would be there to hug him and tell him he did great and fought hard. If you had been chosen, you still would’ve been alone, but at least the loneliness wouldn’t have hurt as much. 

The judges who interviewed you must think you don’t need the help, that you have everything you could ever want, so why would they choose the spoiled little rich girl? Why would they choose the girl who eats dinner with the maids, who read bedtime stories to herself growing up, the girl who has everything—everything except a family that loves her more than their careers and supports her unfailingly?

Facing the mirror, you reach for your purse and pull out the small makeup pouch so that you can erase any evidence of the sadness you feel today, brimming with the unshed tears of yesterday, and prepare your battle face to go back out there and be cordial as the runner up. Another battle you’ll face alone. 

Part 4: College at BTS-U

“Welcome to Jin’s Diner, have a seat wherever you’d—what the fuck are you doing here?”

The chiming of the door opening caught your ear, so you’d turned to greet the newest customer, except instead of an overly tired trucker or a group of post-clubbing college students, you’re faced with one Jeon Jungkook.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asks, eyebrow pitched and smirk full of snark.

“No, I kiss your father with this mouth. Now get out.” You go back to wiping down the counters, ignoring the stare of your arch-nemesis as you finish cleaning.

“Now, now, Baby Cakes, let your new coworker into the diner so you can finally get the help you've been asking for.”

You turn to the owner’s son, Kim Seokjin, mouth gaping open in confusion. “Coworker? I thought you read through the notes I made on all of the applicants?”

“Yes, I did, and they were very helpful. He’ll be working nights with you, so show him to the back while I grab a lock for his locker and a uniform.”

“Sir—”

“Now, Cakes.”

Seokjin disappears into the hallway towards his office, and you turn back to Jungkook, who’s standing smugly with his arms crossed watching you.

“Ugh, keep up, small fry.” 

Jungkook’s black boots squeak along the freshly mopped floor as he hustles to catch up with you. The doorway behind the counter opens into the kitchen, where the two line cooks, Hoseok and Yoongi, work diligently. Hoseok is sitting next to the recently delivered products with a clipboard in hand as he counts the items, while Yoongi is wiping down his area before the rush begins. You clear your throat loudly to gather their attention.

“We have a new waiter, his name is Jeon Jungkook, but he shall go by Small Fry, I think.” The smile on your face is devilish, and the two men snicker as they take in the newbie rushing in behind you.

“Wait, why am I ‘Small Fry’?” he asks, only a little out of breath from having to round the counter and catch up to you.

“Because everyone who works here gets called a food nickname, helps with the creeps, especially on nights.”

“I’m Suga,” Yoongi greets, “and this here is Hobi-Honey, but we just call him Hobi for short.”

“And I’m Baby Cakes, as you heard bossman say.”

“What’s your real name again, Small Fry?” Yoongi asks, his platinum hair shining in the fluorescent kitchen lights.

“It’s Jungkook,” he answers, emphasizing his name as he glares at you.

“Hmm, Baby Cakes, I think he might be better suited to Cooky…”

“Isn’t that too close to his name?” you argue, hoping to keep Small Fry, but when you see Hobi shake his head, you know you’ve lost.

“Fine, Cooky it is then! Next new hire will be called Small Fry no matter what!” you concede, waving Jungkook to follow you towards the back of the kitchen.

He trails you quietly as you push a swinging wooden door with a circular window in it and lead him into the employee lounge. Seokjin is whistling to himself as you enter, twirling a metal lock around his finger. You look around the room, surprised at how quickly he had everything ready.

“Great, you met Suga and Hobi then?” he asks, nodding at the door you just entered.

“Yes, I figured it would be best to do that first on the way here.”

“So, Jungkook—”

“He’s Cooky,” you interrupt, but Seokjin just shakes your rudeness off.

“—Cooky, this here’s the lounge. The door you just entered is used while you’re on shift for breaks and such. When you arrive for your shift and leave for the night, it should always be through the door behind me.” He gestures to a purple-handled door. “To the left are the employee cubbies, and to the right, we have the laundry station, small kitchenette, and door to the staff bathroom.” 

You nod at the TV mounted on the wall next to the swinging door. “The remote always stays on this table,” you tap the main table in the room that seats six, “and we typically keep the TV on ESPN, MTV, or my personal favorite, HGTV.”

“Thank you, Cakes. Now, your Jin’s Diner gear stays here, we’ll wash it for you after each shift you work.” Seokjin points to a stacked washer and dryer in the corner. “Just throw it in the wash after your shift each night. We’ll put it back in your cubby for you once dry.”

Jungkook nods, but he looks a bit overwhelmed from all of the information. You take the lead and sit down first hoping he’ll follow you. You know Seokjin talks fast and moves through the employee information even faster, and despite not liking Jeon Jungkook, you need the help on your shift since Mochi quit to focus on his last semester.

You grab a permanent marker and white label from the center of the table, tossing it across to Jungkook with a little more force than necessary.

“We each have a cubby, with a small locker inside. Use this to write your name and then claim an empty spot, and you can also write your name on the tags of your uniform.”

Seokjin grabs plastic-wrapped clothing articles from the cabinet next to the laundry station and approaches the table, too, tossing down the new clothing. 

“Your gear. Shirt, apron, and a ballcap. If you want a visor instead, let me know. Black, khaki, or blue jeans, black non-slip shoes, keep the blingy jewelry at home.”

“Dammit, I was planning to choke him with his chain after the first shift.”

Seokjin levels his gaze at you, and you know you’re pushing your limits with him. 

“I’ll have you follow Baby Cakes around to learn the drill for taking orders, but mostly you’ll be bussing tables tonight. I’ll work on the final processing of your paperwork in the meantime. Cakes, come with me while he changes.”

You follow Seokjin out of the lounge and back towards the office. He opens the door and steps back to allow you to enter first, shutting the door behind him as he follows you into the room.

“You need to tone it down. I know you said that you and he have some bad blood, but we need the help and he’s the best applicant we have.”

“It’s deeper than that, Jinnie, he’s literally been tormenting me since elementary school. We work with heavy-duty machinery and cutlery. You might come in one morning to find that one of us has stabbed the other to death.” You push out your bottom lip and give him your best, roundest, watery puppy eyes. “Is that what you really want?”

“What I want is to have a fully staffed evening shift so that my best girl can stop having bags under her eyes and complaining about her feet hurting every shift.” Seokjin smiles teasingly at you. “Plus, you need a good annual review to get a raise, and training new employees looks good to the owner.”

“Your dad is the owner! You can just tell him to give me a raise!”

“I could…but this is so much more fun. Who knows, he’s kinda hot…maybe you find out that the reason he’s picked on you your whole life is because he has a crush on you.”

“That fallacy is just a way for the patriarchy to continue to push abuse acceptance and the ‘boys will be boys’ agenda.” You cross your arms, but overall you know Seokjin is right. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to adapt well to situations, put a fake smile on when you need to deal with rude customers or your parents missing another monumental event in your life. “But fine. At work, it’ll be a ceasefire. That’s about all I can promise you.”

“I thought you said there would be a ceasefire!” Seokjin yells at you from where you sit in his office. Jungkook is seated next to you, slouching in the chair with his head turned away towards the wall. You can see his jaw clenching every few seconds as Seokjin continues berating you. “Instead, I got a call from a family friend that you two were so busy yelling at each other for not doing your jobs that you effectively stopped doing your job!” 

You huff as you roll your eyes, turning away from Jungkook’s severely hot—no—aggravating jawline, (where did that thought even come from?) to respond to Seokjin.

“That’s not even what happened last night! This idiot decided to fuck with the seating and of course, since the big game is tomorrow, we had a lot of people stop in and it was noisy. I was trying to seat the guests who were being louder and rowdier on one side so that our regulars,” you glare at Jungkook, who’s still refusing to look at either you or Seokjin, “could dine in peace, but when I ran to the back to restock the napkins for the bar top, he seated people himself. He’s not the host. He’s still a newbie! It’s been, what? Three, four months?”

“...Four,” Jungkook mumbles, but you ignore it.

“And so then poor Mrs. Hana ended up dealing with the hooligans who disrupted her meal, and yes, it was when I was trying to explain to him how seating works—”

“I know how seating works, it’s not rocket science!”

“So then why would you mess with the flow of the diner and seat them there?!”

“Because you,” Jungkook finally breaks the stoic act and turns to face you abruptly, so much so you almost visibly jump, “kept seating the large groups in your sections, which meant that you were giving yourself the better tips and leaving me with the geriatrics who barely leave anything!”

“Are you serious? You think I was trying to take tips from you? I hate dealing with the sports crowd! I would have gladly traded with you if you had said something to me, but you were too busy ignoring me when I was trying to talk to you about dividing up the floor—”

“—you talk to me like I’m a child, so of course I was ignoring you, you dolt—”

“—really piss me off, you think I would stoop so low, probably because it’s what you would do—”

“Shut up, both of you!” Seokjin’s eyes have a hardness to them you are not used to seeing. He’s usually laid back, but the stress lines on his face speak to an underlying tension you aren’t aware of. “Look,” he takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his eyes briefly, “this can’t happen again. Mrs. Hana could’ve broken her hip slipping on the spilled soda, and her son is debating suing us. My dad is obviously handling this situation, but that means your jobs are on the table. If her son demands it in exchange to avoid a lawsuit, I can’t stop it.”

It settles on you at that moment, how severe this is. You know that the little, old lady regular slipped and fell, but both you and Jungkook rushed over to help her up, comping her meal and walking her outside to sit quietly and assess how she was feeling while waiting for her son to arrive. Not only that, but he didn’t seem mad when he picked her up—just worried about if she was in pain and if she needed to go see a doctor. Apparently, after the shock wore off, his anger set in.

“I’m sorry, Seokjin. It won’t happen again.”

“Get to your shift, I’m sure Nam—I mean Porkchop—is ready to go. Remember, Suga will be late today, the championship game is tonight. So no more ignoring the hooligans and Cooky,” Seokjin gives his leveled glare to Jungkook this time, “Baby Cakes is in charge. I know you’re eager to prove yourself, and you’ve done well so far, but she’s worked the aftermath of championship games before.”

Jungkook stares back at Seokjin, a low humming tension filling the room before he answers with a “Yes, sir.” 

The diner is louder than Jungkook’s ever heard before as he goes around clearing tables now that the game is over. His coworker, Yoongi, did amazing from what he saw on the screen. BTS-U wore their white home jerseys with purple and black lettering, so it was easy to see when number 3 hit the game-winning three-pointer. 

Now, as the same white jersey is stepping into the diner, all of the fans cheer and bang their cups and silverware to congratulate the MBC Cup National University Basketball Championship’s MVP for the win tonight. 

Jungkook looks across the dining area, where he sees you kneeling on the countertop clapping your hands above your head. The uniform dress that you chose for tonight has risen higher up your thigh than normal—probably from the way you climbed up onto the counter—giving Jungkook a pretty good view of the skin leading up to what he’s sure are lace panties. He’s walked in on you changing one too many times to not know your preference. 

He can’t look away from you; something about the sheer energy radiating off of you is magnetic, as if you’re lit from within, and before he knows it, he’s moving closer to you. Jungkook knows he can’t stand you personally, but physically? He’ll never admit this aloud—not since Taehyung almost told you the truth back in elementary school— but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

He doesn’t have much time to ponder your looks as you bring two fingers to your lips and let out a loud wolf whistle, setting you off balance with the action. Luckily he’s already been pulled into your orbit, because he catches you with two strong hands on your waist before you can fall off the counter.

“Thanks, Cooky!” you say, eyes alight and voice pleasant, as if you’ve forgotten who Jungkook is to you, and who you are to him. 

“No problem, Baby Cakes.” Jungkook helps you climb down, and when you bend forward to place your palms on the counter to dismount, he sees his hypothesis on your panties is right. His eyes remain on your ass as you extend a leg to the floor, and despite the trouble the two of you got into before your shift, Jungkook can’t seem to care to remember why he shouldn’t be enjoying the view.

“Congrats, Suga!” Jungkook watches as you launch yourself into Yoongi’s arms, giving him a loud smooch on the cheek.

“Thanks, Cakes, that last shot was for you.” He winks, and Jungkook doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so affected, but he wants to blame it on those panties you unknowingly flashed for the irritation he feels toward his friend for flirting with you. She’s your enemy, Kook, get it the fuck together.

Jungkook stalks away, grabbing his bussing bin and rag so he can clean up the table of the group in line to pay.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

“Fuck you and your sorry-ass school!” 

Jungkook turns his head to see you standing feet shoulder-width apart with your arms crossed, looking so much like the evil bitch he’s come to know. Only this time, it’s directed towards an EXO-U fan, by the looks of the silver and black shirt he’s sporting.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

You command the space well, and had the man been sober, he probably would have listened to you when you gave him the polite option to leave on his own two feet. As luck would have it, the man grew more belligerent with each passing moment, causing Jungkook to run and grab Yoongi from the back to help handle the situation. Jungkook doesn’t like what he’s hearing when he returns to the front.

“You dumb cunt, we don’t have to leave! Come over here, baby, suck my cock like you suck their players, bet that’s why they won, huh? Saw you all over their star player earlier, let me get a piece, bitch.”

Jungkook wants to lunge at the man, but Yoongi beats him to the table, effortlessly grabbing the man by his arm and neck to yank him from his booth seat.

Jungkook gets to his other side, helping the man walk towards the double glass doors as Yoongi mutters menacingly at the patron.

“Best not show your face around here again, if you know what’s good for you. Find another place to eat, and we won’t beat your ass.”

Yoongi lets go of the man once they clear the sidewalk into the parking lot, the man’s friends stumble out behind, but Jungkook shoves the man hard, and he falls to the ground. He feels no remorse for the man; he reminds him too much of the creeps his mom dealt with: stench of alcohol on their breath that grew with each vulgar word that rolled out of their mouths, animosity leeching from their greasy skin—Jungkook needs to wash his hands and splash his face. 

Fleeing inside, he bypasses you cleaning up the mess the rowdy table left behind, unable to hear the words you say clearly enough to decipher them. He knows that it’s almost time to close up and he has a few tasks to do to help speed up the process, but he’ll get to them in a minute. He just needs a minute to shake off this feeling, and then he’ll be okay to do the final cleaning for the evening, and find out what you said.

You’ve always hated dealing with the championship game guests, but always loved being with the crowd because of the thrill and your love for the game. The shift wasn’t terrible work-wise, as Jungkook really pulled his weight throughout the shift, allowing you to be in charge as the hostess and main waitress, filling in where you needed and bussing tables as the guests rotated through the double doors.

And you can’t lie, when you almost lost your balance on the counter, it was kind of hot that he was there to catch you, and help you down safely. With his jawline that can cut glass and his warm hands sitting large on your hips, you were a little sad to have them drop away, but you hid your disappointment in congratulating Suga and then moved on with the shift.

Of course, such a perfectly good shift had to end with a douchebag. To your surprise, when you turn to look to Jungkook for help, he’s already approaching with Suga in tow. And damn your worst enemy if he doesn’t do the second hottest thing of the night, vanquishing the drunkard with the sailor’s mouth from your sight, his foul friends trailing behind. 

You clear off the table, the half-eaten food discarded in the trash and you realize that it needs to be taken out now before the last of the tables are done. Jungkook speed walks past you, so you call out to him, “Cooky, take the trash out, please!”

You finish sweeping under the table, then wipe down the booth’s table as Suga also returns inside, pausing to check on you.

“Everything good, Cakes?”

You nod, placing a hand on your hip as you reflect on the incident. “Yeah, he was a real fuck boy, but you and Cooky saved me just in time.”

“Always…I’m surprised Cooky was so worked up when he called me from the kitchen. Usually you two are at each other’s throats, I would’ve thought he’d enjoy seeing you deal with a rude customer.”

“Well, we did get yelled at earlier by Jin for last night, so we promised to work together and drop whatever rivalry we have during working hours. So maybe that’s it.”

“Mmm…maybe. Well, let me go help Hobi, this last wave will keep us later if I don’t.” Yoongi takes a few steps to round the counter, then calls back out to you, “The trash is about to overflow, Cakes!”

Frowning, you notice that Jungkook has yet to return to take out the trash. Glancing around the room, you see most of the tables are in stages of eating or waiting for their food. They all seem well and distracted with clips from the post-game coverage, so you decide to take out the trash yourself. Maybe the truce between you and Jungkook isn’t as intact as you think. 

Grumbling to yourself, you tie off the bag and lift it from the bin, foot angled to keep the wheels from sliding across the floor from the tug. You eye the replacement black bag, but decide to put it in once you return from the dumpster. 

You hate taking out the trash; you love feminism but some tasks are just made for men. You refuse to use the loud trolley with the janky wheel, so you carry the bag gingerly, resting it down every few steps as you make your way across the sparsely lit back parking lot.

“Well, if it isn’t the bitch who didn’t let me finish my meal.”

You snap your head around, eyes roving for the source of the raspy words, finally landing on the douchebag discharged from the diner only 10 minutes ago.

“We didn’t charge you for it, so I suggest you leave before this turns into a real problem.” You keep your eyes on him, watching as he shifts around on his feet, inching closer to you. You hold your stance, refusing to look weak in case he decides you’d make a good target.

“Maybe if you come suck me off like a good girl, I won’t leave a bad review online about how much of a cunt you’re being. Matter of fact, throw in some pussy, let me fuck you properly and I bet all that attitude will drop. You just need someone to tame you.”

The man lunges for your left arm, his meaty fist closing around your wrist and you pull back to break the contact but he’s strong. You yell out, stumbling back away from the trash bag and he follows, heavy footfalls adding to the sounds of the evening. 

“Let go, you freak!”

You jolt your arm, wrenching it in as many directions as you can to try and relax his grip but he pulls you closer to him until you can smell the ethanol on his breath as he places his other hand forcefully on your shoulder. 

“I said I wanted you on your knees, stupid bitch,” he utters, and reflexively you punch him in his dick. He groans and releases you, hunching over in pain. You make out a figure stepping through the service door, and you call out for help. Attempting to step around the man, you only make it a few steps before you feel the weight of the man bearing down on you again.

“You stupid bitch!”

You try to run, but the man has the back of your dress in his grip so instead, your shoes scrape the asphalt in the same place repeatedly. A loud thwack of flesh on flesh sounds right before you’re released, dropping the short distance to the concrete. Your palms and knees feel the sting of the gravel but the relief of being out of the man’s hold overpowers any lingering pain as you scramble to your feet. 

Behind you, Jungkook is pummeling the man in the face, and you pause for a moment in shock before you rush back to him, grabbing his bicep to stop him from swinging again.

“Cooky, stop, I’m okay! Jungkook!”

He freezes, turning to look at you as if to see if your statement is true, and seeing that you’re serious, he appears to deflate a bit, no longer an attacking watchdog but a protective knight, making sure his charge is unscathed.

“Let’s go.” He gestures for your hand and you place yours in his, letting him guide you away from the groaning sack of trash and the garbage bag on the ground.

The fluorescent lights of the break room are blinding after the darkness of outside. Vaguely you hear Jungkook yelling at the others working, followed by the clattering of kitchen items, but you’re so out of sorts you don’t even realize that Jungkook has maneuvered you into a chair and is gently checking your knees, palms, and arms. He brushes off the remaining dirt from your skin.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

His voice sounds pained, and this pulls you from your thoughts and back to the present with him. 

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Where all did he touch you? It might not hurt now, but once the adrenaline dies off, you might feel it.”

“Um, my arm, my shoulder, I can’t…I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, let me check your neck…he grabbed your dress and pulled you, so I wanna make sure it won’t bruise.”

He takes your face in his hands delicately, tilting your head to expose your neck to his view. The proximity has your head spinning, his cologne enveloping you as he leans closer, a hand leaving your cheek to allow a finger to trail across your neckline. You know he’s just checking to make sure that there’s no lingering marks, but you don’t think that the after effects of tonight will be anything anyone can see. He grabs a glass of water for you, and you sit quietly while he tends to the minor cuts on your palms from the jagged gravel in the parking lot. 

Time seems to pass as you’re deep in thought, but you’re not sure how much until Seokjin appears, his purple and white painted face replacing the doe eyes and clenched jaw. He looks frazzled, as if he just left an after-party for the championship and was pulled into work. You realize after a moment that that’s actually what happened, and chuckle at yourself. He says your real name, pulling you out of your laughter.

“I’m so sorry this happened, luckily Jungkook was there. I don’t know what I would've done if something happened to you.” Seokjin pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, squeezing him tighter as the feeling of being held feels good. He pulls away sooner than you like, but he continues talking to you about what’s been going on since you’ve been sitting in the employee lounge.

“Look, don’t worry about staying and cleaning up tonight, okay? We’ve got everything under control. Hobi called the cops and Yoongi made sure the guy didn’t flee before they came. He’s in their custody now.”

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, uncharacteristically using his given name.

“He’s giving his statement to the police now. They’ll want to talk to you too, but I can put it off for tonight if you need,” Seokjin offers kindly, but you want to get it over with.

“It’s okay, I’ll speak to them now.”

“If you’re sure. I’ll grab one of the detectives now and they can take your statement, and then I’m sending you home. Jungkook will drive you, okay? You’re still a bit shaky.”

You look down at your hands, seeing the tremble Seokjin is referencing and nod. There’s no use in putting up a fight. All of the men you work with have now proven that you’re safe with them. Seokjin walks over to the door, popping his head out to call for an officer, and he paces quietly as you recount what happened, starting with the attacker growing belligerent in the dining area. Once finished, Seokjin grabs Jungkook from where he’s talking with Yoongi outside the door, ushering him to take your belongings and get you home.

You follow along, compliant, waving goodbye to the others as Jungkook pulls off into the main road back towards campus.

“You live by BTS-U, right?”

“Yeah, at Omelas, next to the train tracks.”

Neither of you speak again until he parks, turning off the engine to his jeep.

“Here, let me help you.” Jungkook grabs your backpack and climbs out of the SUV, coming around to the passenger side door to open it for you. You jump out and lead the way to your first -floor apartment. Unlocking the door, you flip on the lights as you toe off your non-slip work shoes.

“My roommate is out of town visiting her parents this weekend.”

Dumping your purse onto the kitchen counter, you walk further into your home, Jungkook trailing you slowly. He kicks off his shoes, socks shuffling quietly along the carpet as he enters your living room after closing and securing the front door lock. He places your backpack on the couch, and the two of you stand there awkwardly.

“Um, do you want some water or something? I have juice, milk, beer…” you trail off, uncertain.

“Water is fine, thanks.”

You grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it with ice water to return the favor from earlier as you bolster your courage to thank him. You hand him the glass and before you can think too hard, you just start speaking.

“Jungkook, I just wanted to thank you, for coming out there and, you know, saving me. I know we don’t get along much, but you really came through and I appreciate it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, blinking up at you from where he’s sitting on your couch. He takes a long sip from the glass, and he seems uncertain if he wants to speak but does so anyway.

“It was nothing, really.”

“Why, um, why did you help me, I mean—I’m just saying, oh this is coming out wrong—”

“Look, I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with creeps like him. I’ve had to do it plenty for my mom, and I just don’t like to see anyone getting hurt, not even my arch nemesis.” Jungkook tries to joke it off at the end, but his tone reveals so much more to you about what he’s not saying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was like that for you back in high school.” You sit down next to him, closer than you normally would with your backpack taking up part of the seat, but you don’t mind it. You feel safer being closer to him.

“I mean, why would you know?” he asks, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip. “You have a perfect family, I’m sure nothing like this happened on the weekly at your place.”

“No, but like, my perfect family isn’t what everyone thinks it is, either. My parents didn’t pay attention to me, always busy working and what not. Honestly career day, back in like fifth grade was the only time one of my parents made it to something, and even then, it was so my dad could advertise his business. I felt so sheltered growing up, like I had no life skills. It’s why I work at the diner.”

Jungkook digests your words, understanding blooming through his chest. 

“I get that. It’s funny, I remember that day so well, I was so jealous of you, because your dad showed up for you. I guess our dads are the same though…I think if I had grown up with my parents still together, I would’ve felt like you do. My dad kind of left me behind when he remarried, you know? In a way, that made me less sheltered, because when I was with my mom, I had to grow up fast. I couldn’t always have the nicest things because she couldn’t always afford them.”

“I didn’t realize that you had to split time between them. One of my friends, Jimin? He told me about how your dad wouldn’t let you take things back and forth between houses.”

“Why did he do that?” Jungkook looks a little scandalized, and you’re sure it’s because Jimin is one of his best friends. He’s the one who recommended that he apply to Jin’s Diner in the first place, and how you knew to warn Jin to not hire Jungkook, not that it worked. “I didn’t know you were close with Jimin!”

“We used to work together…you actually replaced him. It’s why we were hiring in the first place. But, he told me that because he was trying to get me to ease up on you one day. I was complaining about something and he was trying to make you more human, I guess.”

Jungkook just nods. You know he probably realizes there’s no reason to be mad, it was all in the past and Jimin was coming from a good place when he revealed that.

“Well, it’s true. My dad is kind of the worst. My mom saved up to get me some Dunks back in middle school because my dad couldn’t be bothered to take me back to school shopping. As if I didn’t grow a foot and 3 shoe sizes.”

“Oh fuck, you know, I’m sorry for making Nayeon spill her drink on your shoes. That was really evil of me.”

“We were like 13? 14? All middle school girls are evil.” Jungkook chuckles. You’re relieved at how gracious he’s being, but a little annoyed. You turn to him to say as much, but he continues to speak. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we went toe to toe like that. We probably would’ve been best friends if we had combined our smarts. You were really great during the Youth of the Year competition. I’m sorry that you didn’t win, I think you deserved to.”

Jungkook is looking back at you now, with his pretty doe eyes, sitting so close to you. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, instead focusing on his star-filled eyes and the way they’re staring into your own. His arm moves slowly, lifting to bring his hand to your face, curling a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“It’s getting pretty late now, I should get home,” he starts, but his eyes speak volumes and it doesn’t seem like he wants to leave just yet. “But there’s still one more thing I need to apologize for.”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to what incident it could be when his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, not too forceful but not shy either—just the right amount to let you know this isn’t a mistake. It takes you a few seconds to respond, but when you sense Jungkook about to move away you pull him in closer, keeping his lips where you can access them. It’s not enough though, so throwing caution to the wind, you straddle him as your tongue swipes for entry, pushing him further into the couch as you lean into his fit body. He groans at your boldness, large hands planted firmly on your ass as the kiss deepens. You feel dangerously high, lacking oxygen, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. He’s intoxicating.

His fingers tighten imperceptibly, and you know he, too, is at the end of his air, so you break apart, chest heaving as you stare at his lips, red and plump from the kiss. 

“That was your…apology for? Or you were…apologizing for…kissing me?” you pant, trying to catch your breath.

“Both?” he says with a cute, bunny-like smile, “one, for hating you all these years, and two, for kissing you out of the blue.”

“And if I want you to apologize to me more?” you half-question, half-goad, and Jungkook gives the right answer, leaning into you once more so he can kiss you hard, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away.

“That’s something I can do.” Jungkook uses his strength to flip you onto your back on the couch, knocking your backpack out of the way and onto the floor. “Is this okay?” He searches your eyes for your consent to his hands on your thighs, fingertips skimming the hem of your dress. 

You nod, and he trails them higher until he’s grasping the band of your panties and sliding them down without haste. You enjoy the commanding presence he takes on, unlike the people you deal with on a daily at work, indecisive with what to order, he knows exactly what he wants, and when Jungkook pushes up your dress and buries his face between your thighs, it takes everything in you not to climax right then. His tongue flits around your clit, teasing you as his hands massage your thighs while keeping them wide for him. 

“Jungkook,” his name is a breathy whisper in the air as your fingers curl around his locks, tightening your grip when he flicks closer to where you need him. “Please.”

You wiggle your hips, searching for more friction from his tongue but he just pulls away, tutting his tongue at you for being bad. You sit up slightly to glare at him.

“Patience, baby.”

Whining, you lay back on the couch with a huff. “This is why we hated each other bac—oh, fuck me,” you finish with a moan as he flattens his tongue across your pussy and stimulates every nerve he can cover. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he begins to suck, gently flicking his tongue every few seconds as he positions two fingers at your dripping center. Delving inside of you, the plunge of his fingers reaches the ache inside of you, causing your legs to tremble as he fine-tunes your body like an instrument. 

“Feels so good, mmph, fuck,” is all you can manage to say as he continues to pump his fingers, the squelching of your walls suctioning them back in with every tug out only making you wetter. Jungkook hums, and the thrumming sensation curls your toes. Arching your back, you tug his hair hard as you mewl loudly from the impending orgasm.

“You can do it, baby, cum for me,” Jungkook praises, “you’re doing so well, squeezing my fingers so tight, watch me.”

When his mouth once again finds its rhythm on your core, it takes just a few seconds of making eye contact with Jungkook, doe-eyes wide as he watches you enjoy his tongue, before you shiver and melt into the euphoria he’s bringing to your body. 

“That’s it, fuck—you look so pretty, baby.”Body spent, you stare up at the ceiling blinking as you come back to earth. Jungkook tucks himself behind you, holding you in his arms. You look down at the arm over your waist, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his exposed full sleeve. You can feel his bulge, know that there’s so much more…apologizing you both need to do after years of being enemies, but you have all night for that. And in the morning, you don’t know what will happen, if there will be more to come after tonight, but what you do know is that at this moment you don’t hate Jungkook; not even a little bit, not even at all.

🍽️🍽️🍽️

© hisunshiine 2023. All rights reserved. 

thank you for reading!!!

[draco-spencers-paramour]

May i please request a slytherin reader where she gets in trouble with umbridge and is punished with a "i must not tell lies" scar on her arm. She tries to hide it from draco but he finds out? Ive always wondered how draco would react ;) thank you in advance!

yes i’m on it!! x

draco malfoy x fem!slytherin!reader

tw: torture, violence, mentions blood loss, angst, fluff reader discretion is advised. And this is quite long

seeing between the lines

you knew it was a bad idea joining Dumbledore army after Harry had asked. But after all, Hermione was your best friend, to Draco’s dismay and you were the go between being a Slytherin you had access to the plans of the Inquisitorial Squad unfortunately led by your boyfriend Draco.

You felt awful lying to him but you were also angry at him for trying to destroy Harry and his friends, the DA to be specific which he was yet to find out that you were apart of. However it all fell apart for you very quickly when you were discovered by Crabbe and Goyle practicing defence spells with Parvati. They escorted you both to the office where you were met with the shocked face of Umbridge. You gave the two boys a fleeting death stare as to warn them off of telling Draco that you were part of the DA. “Restrain them.” Umbridge smiled as the Slytherin boys tied your hands to the chair.

“I am truly disappointed girls. Why ever were you engaging in such treacherous magic.” she clasped her hands together as you and Parvati glanced at one another fearfully. “In all due respect Professor, we were just having a little bit of fun it was nothing serious.” She furrowed her brows, still with that wicked grin on her face and walked towards you slowly “Don’t lie.” you shook your head “I’m not professor.” the next two seconds were a blur as she smacked you straight across the face “I told you not to lie Miss y/l/n. With many years of experience in the ministry I know a defence spell when i hear one. Unfortunately you will have to face consequences now.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes from the sting of her slap as you saw yourself in the mirror she had also drawn blood from your cheek. She turned to Parvati who was practically shaking in her chair “Are you practicing defence magic with other members of your class Miss Parvati? Like Mr Potter perhaps.” you knew how good of a liar Parvati was “No Professor. Of course not, it’s against the rules.” Umbridge took that bait.“One month detention. You can go now Miss Patil but I’ll watching you.”

The gryffindor girl nodded before being released and practically running for her life out of Umbridge’s office. “Now what to do with you Miss Y/L/N.” you struggled against your chair and she shushed you “Now now. What’s all this commotion? You’ve disobeyed the rules surely you realise you deserve to be punished.” you shook your head squeezing your eyes shut. “You think i don’t know about your….relations with Mr Malfoy. Which too, is also forbidden in my school. I suppose I should punish you for that too. However Draco has been more that helpful in assisting me to keep this school in order so I’ll spare that punishment…for now.”

She circled around to her desk draw, taking out her wand, a piece of paper and a pen. “I would like you to write lines for today’s punishment. You will write I must not tell lies seven hundred times on this piece of paper. You will not be released from my office until you have finished.” Crabbe released one of your hands “Wait outside the door please boys and lock it.” Umbridge explained. Your stomach dropped and you picked up the pen with a shaky hand before you started writing. I must not tell lies I must not tell lies I must not tell lies. as you began to write line number 15 you felt a sharp stinging pain in your arm.

You rolled up your sleeves and saw your own writing cutting into your skin. You eyes began to water again as the pain got stronger. You pleaded with Umbridge as she sat watching you, the happy expression never leaving her pug-like face. “Please…no.” you said in choked whisper. She sighed and shook her head “I feared you’d say that Miss Y/L/N. Now carry on or I’m afraid I will have to take matters into my own hands. I don’t like disobedient children.”

You carried on writing, each sentence cutting in the same spot in your arm making you cry out in pain until you could no longer write. Umbridge took clear joy from your punishment and stood up coming around her desk once more “I’m afraid you’ve left me with no choice but to carry out it myself.” she fluttered her eyes with evil intent. “You’re the devil.” you cried , straining against the chair “That is an a terrible thing to say to your headmistress. You horrible little girl.” and with the flick of her wand she carried on the sentences, carving into your arm making you scream out in pain.

It went on for almost 4 hours. Even Crabbe and goyle felt bad and knew that they wouldn’t be the only ones able to hear your blood curdling screams that could wake an army. But everyone knew where they came from and who was causing them. The who would be the mystery unless the boys and Parvati were to tell people that it was you being punished which they probably would. When you were finally released, it was nightfall and you were seriously injured. “Mr Goyle please come back in.” when the boys opened the door and crabbe nearly passed out from the sight of you, half of you soaked in your own blood and struggling to stay conscious, surprised you were even alive.

“I hope you learned your lesson Miss Y/L/N.” You dragged yourself to the hospital wing assisted by Goyle “You tell Draco… and i’ll kill you.” you choked out at the boy holding you up. He said nothing and nodded. Goyle was going to tell Draco no matter what you said. Madame Pomfrey attended you immediately, luckily there were no other students in the hospital wing. She patched you up with a sympathetic look of deep concern on her face “Stay here till morning and then you can go back to your dorm. But you must rest for a few days. You lost quite a lot of blood.”

You sighed weakly lying in the hospital bed as pomfrey connected your bandaged arm to an IV and within minutes you were asleep. When you awoke the next morning you felt a hand holding yours. Opening your eyes you were met with the puffy red face of Hermione. “Mione.” you smiled groggily. “I’m so relieved you’re okay.” she wiped her tears and rubbed her thumb over the top of your hand. She helped you sit up in your bed fluffing the pillows behind you “I’m guessing Parvati told everyone.” Hermione shook her head “Just the DA. To keep everyone vigilant.” You bit the inside of your cheek nervously “Could you hear it? When Umbridge was punishing me?”

She cast her eyes to the floor “I was in charms class at the time but I’m pretty sure everyone could Y/N. You know thats how Umbridge frightens students to follow her orders. Remember when it was Hannah?” you rolled your eyes “I know. But everyone will gossip about it today.” Hermione gave you a weak smile as you continued “Wait. Draco’s in your charms class.” “Don’t worry Y/N. He looked visibly uncomfortable when it was happening but I don’t think he could tell it was you. Parvati covered for you and told him you were studying in your dorm and didn’t want any distractions from anyone. Whether or not he listened to her is another matter entirely.”

“Right well I better not waste anymore time he’ll be looking for me.” You insisted. Hermione shook her head “It’s sad really. He’s your boyfriend yet…” you finished her sentence “Yet he’s the head of the inquisitorial squad determined to rat everyone out just keep him and his idiot friends out of the trouble. Mione I know, I currently hate him for it.” She helped you up out of bed as madame pomfrey came over. She took your bandages off to reveal a fresh red cracked scar reading i must not tell lies.

Hermione observed your arm with a deep frown on her face “Oh Y/N….” you shrugged dejectedly as pomfrey collected a clean uniform and set it down on your bed. “I’ll still do whatever I can to help. Even more so now this happened. That she-devil needs to be chucked out of this school.” You pulled on your uniform making sure the scar was hidden under your jumper. Your arm was sore but it wasn’t unbearable you prayed Draco wouldn’t notice but you knew that facing him was going to be difficult for you.

You walked slowly back to your dorm, deliberately stalling. However it was no use and before you knew it you were making your way through the door of the common room. Of course there Draco sat on the plush green sofa. You immediately felt a lump in your throat and pretended not to notice him like it would solve the problem. He watched you walk by small smile on his face at your absent mindedness. As you got to the bottom of the stairs you felt is his arms wrap around your waist “Where are you off to my darling? I knocked on your dorm this morning but you weren’t in. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” draco sighed into your neck.

you turned yourself out of his hold looking up at him to meet his icy blue gaze “Sorry went to the library I’ve just been studying a lot. I’m still quite busy Draco so I’m gonna get back to my dorm” his brows furrowed “But I didn’t see you all day yesterday. Had to put up with all that screaming from Umbridge’s office and Patil, a gryffindor, letting me know that youd locked yourself in your dorm to study. Cant I just hang out in your room or you can come to mine-“ you felt yourself beginning to choke up and get angry at his words so you cut him off “Draco. I’m busy. Not now.” and you took off up the stairs as he stood rejected watching your figure retreat into the dark hallway.

You threw yourself on your bed sobbing into the pillows. You had no idea how to act in front of Draco. You were so angry yet you loved him so much. For the rest of the day you showered and got into some comfy clothes before catching up on some schoolwork and getting some more rest. You felt your stomach begin to rumble so you got up again and trudged your way down to the great hall. You came down into the common where unfortunately Draco and all his friends were still sat. Blaise noticed you first and nudged the blonde boy. Draco looked at you hopefully as you ignored him once again.

“Y/N.” he called out to you. Internally cringing you faced him with a polite smile “Hi.” he scratched the back of his head “Did I uh- do something?” you shook your head as you felt the anger bubble within you “It just seems like I have. You’ve been acting really off with me today. Are you feeling ill? You don’t look well. You’ve been studying too much.” you rolled your eyes as your saw the other boys listening in on your conversation “I’m stressed, I need to study I already told you. Or is that not okay? I don’t want to do this in front of your mates Draco.” you turned to go back to your dorm but he grabbed your arm. The one with scar making you cry out in pain. He noticed immediately “Shit, are you okay darling? Did I hurt you?” You stepped back from him “No it’s fine. I just want some alone time Draco, please.”

You went back to your dorm even though you were starving and after an hour you eventually gave in. Giving it one last attempt you headed down to the great hall without any attention seeking from your boyfriend. Crabbe, Goyle and Draco were still sitting in the common room although this time there was no laughing or joking that could be heard “We have something to tell you.” Crabbe played nervously with the hem of his robe “Okay? what?” Draco looked at the boy suspiciously “You won’t like it.” Goyle admitted.

The slytherin prince sat back into the sofa “Well now you have to tell me. Is it to do with the DA? Cause you know we need to go to umbridge immediately if there’s information you’ve found.” Goyle sighed “No but well..sort of. Its complicated.” Draco frowned “For God sake spit it out.” “It’s Y/N.” Crabbe confessed “What are you talking about?”But if there was ever worse timing for you to return the from the great hall, this was it. you heard the heated exchange between the boys and caught Goyle ratting you out to Draco as you opened the common room door

“We saw her performing a defence spell with parvati so we took them to umbridge’s office. But we didn’t realise Umbridge was going to punish her with the lines. So the uh…the…the screams were hers. She was bleeding, that’s bit of an understatement really. And then I took her to the hospital wing after Umbridge had…finished with her. But I had to Draco.” You stormed into the room “Goyle! You asshole I told you not to say anything.” you yelled as Dracos heart dropped and eyes widened with horror as faced you.

“What? You mean yesterday when…all those screams..that was you.” his body when numb. “Yes. it was.” You eyes produced fresh tears as they flicked between the three boys “It’s your fault. All of you. Especially you Draco. You and your stupid fucking mates, you’ll do anything to destroy Harry. This is what your doing to people. To me. The person you love and the people trying to save this school from deatheaters and voldemort.” You screamed at him,rolling up your sleeve pointing at your arm with tears streaming your face as he stared at you as you headed off back to your dorm.

Draco ran after you shutting the door behind him “Y/N I-“ you cut him off, shouting “That monster of a woman tortured me for hours for using one defence spell. One. I nearly died! And yes I am part of the DA before you ask. I have to be if I want to survive in this school. God, Draco if anyone should be helping us it’s you! You hate your family and everyone knows they’re deatheaters anyway.” admittedly you felt bad for saying it but it was true. You turned away from him, sitting on your bed and sobbed “Go on turn me in then.” silence. You faced him again “If you have nothing to say then leave.”

he sat down and suddenly grabbed your waist, pulling you into his lap “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he whispered over and over as tears streamed down his face “i love you. forgive me.” his gaze flicked to the scar on your arm, feeling wracked with an overwhelming guilt. You both held each other until your crying had turned to sniffles. Draco held one side of your face as he cradled the rest of your body “I can’t tell you how much I regret acting this way. You wouldn’t have suffered if I hadn’t have been Umbridge’s pet. That woman deserves Azkaban.”

You smiled “It’s true. You’ve definitely made yourself even more hated than usual. You know that Umbridge is insufferable and inquisitorial squad is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of. You lot made a lot of people suffer.” Draco hung his head in shame “I know. I promise I will spend a lot of my free time hating myself.” you giggled nuzzling into your boyfriend “Well I’m glad you feel that way. Though there is one thing you could do. You could stay in the inquisitorial but you wont tell on anyone. Make Umbridge think everything’s perfect and let the DA carry on to drive her out the school.” He nodded “If it protects you, I’ll do anything.” you gave him a stern look “So you’ll stop going after Harry too?” He sighed “Yes I will stop going after Harry. I’ll even talk to my father and the ministry about Umbridge.”

He kissed you deeply stroking your hair “I promise, anything for you. Now let’s rest and let me take care of you sweetheart.” You laid in your bed with Draco, his arms wrapped tightly around your body coaxing you off to sleep. And for the first time in a long time you felt hopeful about the future.

hope it’s not too dramatic lols. Also if you are following my Draco series I’m am still continuing with it I’m trying to finish the next chapter xx