#your honor they hate each other but learned to have sex

[jacksonseymour13]

Enemies to enemies that hate fuck each other

[highvern]

When in Rome TEASER

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, cheating, penetrative sex, nudity, mentions of drug use, more tbd

Length: tbd, teaser: ~3k

Note: excited to have this for the @svthub world tour collab! thank u to everyone who helped me brain storm and ofc @gyuswhore for dealing with the insanity that is my brain

Summary: After months of no contact, Seungcheol isn't sure what to expect when he sees you again at Jeonghan's wedding. He's prepared to apologize, to grovel, to bear the weight of a cold shoulder. Whatever it takes to have you back, his best friend since diapers; or whatever will ensure the last third of your trio has the best day of his life. But when he overhears the most recent development in your relationship, he must come to terms with something he was never prepared for, or risk losing you for good.

m.list

Leave a comment if you would like to be tagged when this is posted on July 7th. YOU MUST HAVE AN AGE IN BIO TO BE ADDED!

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

There are fewer places Seungcheol hates more than airports. Dentist offices, his grandparents’ house during the holidays when they ask about grandkids, and even the time he ran into his elementary school science teacher the first time he was buying condoms at the pharmacy, all were more favorable than the hustle and bustle of an international airport. 

Seungcheol likes to be straightforward and direct. Something that becomes seemingly at odds with the average person traveling because at the one place everyone has somewhere to be, they act as if they have all the time in the world.

But the simple thought that it's all temporary, that his personal ninth circle of hell is the only thing standing between him and a week in Italy is enough to grin and bear it. 

On the other side of the terminal, his best friends are waiting for him. It’s not as if they haven’t seen each other for long; Jeonghan and Sofie were at bar trivia last week as their last hurrah before tying the knot. As usual they wiped the floor with everyone, rousing several allegations of cheating that Jeonghan deserved. But Seungcheol is about to watch them get married and it makes him a little misty around the eyes because he loves his friends more than anything. 

The only concern, which is less of a concern and more of a titanic size anchor sinking in his gut, is that you’re Sofie’s maid of honor. And you haven’t spoken to him since New Years when you revealed you were moving to New York with your boyfriend, Johnny.

Another place Seungcheol dreads, right next to the airport, is anywhere Johnny happens to be. He’s everything you aren’t: abrasive, arrogant, catty, disorganized. And those are just the traits at the front of the alphabet. 

You had a plan. A list of criteria he had to listen to over and over again after each failed date. Even the guys Seungcheol set you up with after carefully vetting didn’t seem to make the mark. It was respectable, commendable. You wouldn’t settle for anything less than “perfect.” Whatever that meant to you. 

At a bar, three years ago, Johnny approached you. Seungcheol watched from across the table as you mentally ran over your checklist. Johnny met the physical ones: tall, good hygiene, well kept appearance. The other things would need more investigation. What did he do for work? Was he close with his family? Kids? Opinions on cheating at bar trivia?

The more Seungcheol learned about Johnny after your detailed debrief from a few dates the more confused he became. Johnny worked in banking. You hated finance bros and called them scum of the dating pool. He was an only child and only talked to his parents on holidays and birthdays. You had grand dreams of close grandparents and houses full of cousins. He didn’t want kids. You did. He didn’t think bar trivia was that serious. Seungcheol watched you threaten Jeonghan’s life on more than one occasion over the use of Shazam during the music round. Johnny was everything you said you didn’t want. 

And then you followed him across the country after two years of dating cut with three breakups. 

It didn’t make sense. 

When Seungcheol pulled you aside after you announced you’d be moving, trying to figure why you thought living with the man who once asked if you really needed to wash bath towels if you only use them when you’re already clean, you told him to mind his business. Later that night, after enough drinks to make everything blurry, you two got into a screaming match on the sidewalk with your shared friends attempting to play referee. It was the last time you two spoke. 

In over twenty five years of friendship, founded on the backs of elementary school shenanigans under a reign of terror of one Jeonghan Yoon, you and Seungcheol’s real fights can be counted on one hand. 

The sixth grade field trip where you and Jeonghan left him out, senior year of highschool when the girl Seungcheol took to prom argued about his parents taking more pictures with you than her, and junior year of college when Seungcheol caught you making out with his frat brother after ditching him under the guise of having a stomach bug. That was it. Three fights, all of which were resolved within a week because as stubborn as you both are, you’re best friends. 

Five and a half months of not speaking, except when Seungcheol texted a half hearted apology and you responded with a quarter of forgiveness. That was it. 

But Seungcheol won’t dwell. He refuses to make things awkward for Jeonghan and Sofie during the most special week of their lives. Knowing you, you’ve probably already come to the same resolution. The only person you’re closer to than Seungcheol is Jeonghan with Sofie a close second. If there is anyone you two will agree to put aside an argument for, it's them.

The sun has already begun setting when he makes it through customs and out towards the Arrivals, painting everything in buttery yellow. 

“SEUNGCHEOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL!” Sofie screams, hands cupped around her mouth.

She’s half outside the cherry red sports car. An Intermeccanica Italia Spyder because Seungcheol knows three things in life: expensive watches, expensive whiskey, and expensive cars. Sofie’s family happened to have plenty of the last and Seungcheol assumed the first two as well.

When Sofie became his study partner in law school she ended up following him on Instagram. He assumed from the way she carried herself, perfect posture with tailored clothes and an ‘air of society’ as you called it, that she was well off. But then, during a late night gossip session, you and he did a deep dive and found out Sofie wasn’t just well off. Her family had more money than God. 

But everything on the surface was a contrast to who Sofie really was. Heiress to a fortune but studied more than anyone in their class just to graduate second. Perfect posture and tailored clothes are a stark contrast to her favorite bar where she’d outdrink anyone, and cheer when the prize for trivia was cheap plastic margarita glasses.

Or right now, where she belts Seungcheol’s name again like some drunk frat boy while sitting in a car worth more than his life.

Seungcheol jogs to where she waits, already smiling. 

“I would have brought a ‘Welcome back from rehab’ sign but my mom thought you’d be embarrassed,” Sofie says as she hugs him over the console. 

“At least make it ‘welcome home from prison’ so people won’t walk in my way.”

“I’ll make sure Jeonghan remembers you have a preference,” she calls over the wind. 

Technically, the house (which is really a mansion) is almost an hour from the airport. With Sofie’s driving it only takes twenty minutes in which Seungcheol thinks he might need to start going to church. 

The pebbled driveway crunches underneath the tires as they approach. 

In the evening light, the house is more daunting. An imposing stone facade rises from the ground, more akin to a small castle than an actual home. Smooth stone with detailed carvings, windows with huge shutters, and on the top floor, a balcony, fenced with wrought iron, juts out.

Even after years of seeing pictures, Seungcheol still can’t believe his friend grew up here. 

Sofie throws the car in park right in front of the door before jumping out. 

“By the way, there were some issues with one of the rooms.” Sofie drops her voice, “My aunt and uncle are fighting, so I hope you don’t mind sharing?”

Seungcheol knows most of the guys coming to the wedding. Worst case scenario he’s stuck in a twin size bunk bed with a weird cousin. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Perfect! Just leave your stuff, everyones out back.” Sofie pushes him as hard as she can manage which isn’t much at all given she’s five foot nothing. 

The garden is filled with bodies upon bodies crowded together, some old, some young. Seungcheol recognizes a few faces in the mix: Soonyoung, Joshua, Seungkwan. More friends from law school. Jeonghan’s sister waves from across the way. Everyone seems to be paying attention to whatever is happening at the iron garden table. 

And then, like a scene in a movie, everyone parts for a second and time freezes. 

Seungcheol would recognize you anywhere. Even if he can’t see your face, he knows it's you. The curve of your shoulders, the tilt of your head. The bark of laughter as your chin drops forward. He knows it's you and the weight in his stomach lightens and leadens in an odd cycle.

He missed you.

Then everything comes back into real time. Wine and cards. Then he sees the chips on the table, your stack to the side significantly higher than anyone else's. 

Months of ruminating over what he’d do when reunited fly out the window. Seungcheol doesn’t waste a minute as he approaches, hand on the back of your chair as he peeks over your head to sneak a glance at your hand.

“Who let you talk them into poker?”

You’re already smiling when you tilt back to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Oh, how he missed you.

“She said she didn’t know how to play,” an old man grumbles from the side. 

Seungcheol doesn’t recognize him but he’s got the same expression as all the people you’ve sharked before: mildly impressed and slightly murderous. Two other guys sit at the table, one old enough to be his grandfather looks almost proud. Seokmin fills that last seat, head in his hands at being swindled so easily. 

“I said,” you start, throwing your gaze to him. “I hadn’t played in a while.” 

You look back up at Seungcheol for some kind of support. Eyes round and innocent in a way you both know you’re not. Pool, cards, darts, any game a man a few drinks in could beat you at was easy fodder for your con. Usually it ended with free drinks, sometimes money, but mostly it’s Seungcheol playing referee for the disillusioned guys you swindled while wearing a bright grin. 

Tossing a few chips towards the three men at table with a smart “don’t spend it all in one place,” you rise and throw your arms around Seungcheol like everything is normal. 

“Hi,” you whisper into his neck.

Seungcheol’s hands are already curled around your waist, pulling you in tight. “Hi.”

“I missed you.”

“I see that you can’t even greet your best friend.” Jeonghan coughs from the side.

Seungcheol squeezes you tighter at the jab. It’s Jeonghan’s wedding but the last time Seungcheol saw him was last week when dropping the couple off at the airport to come here. He’s far more interested in dragging out his reunion with you as long as possible. “I’m in the middle of that actually.”

He scoffs in response, walking away. “Whatever, I see too much of you anyway.” 

Another two hours of celebrating, filled with drunken toasts and more card games with Sofie’s family that only end with you digging into their pockets even deeper, fly by before the exhaustion of a day starting in one continent and ending in another catches up to him. You’re too busy arguing over if Jeonghan cheated in the last round to notice Seungcheol slipping away from the table and towards the door leading inside.

Sofie is in the kitchen just beyond, another bottle of wine sloshing in hand as she talks animatedly on the phone. “Okay, look. I am on vacation. I’m about to get married. I literally left notes for everything I'm not working on during my wedding week. Figure it out. Bye.”

She hangs up without response, tossing her phone on the counter before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Good?” Seungcheol asks.

“Oh, you know, just the usual. I leave and suddenly no one knows how to do their job.” Sofie rolls her eyes. “What’s up? Need another glass?”

She raises the same bottle and the thought of more wine nearly turns his stomach.  

Seungcheol brushes her off, moving to the sink and rinsing his glass with finality. “I think I’m gonna crash for the night.”

“Really?” she asks. “But the party just started!”

“For you maybe, some of us have been cramped on a plane all day.” He feels it. In his back and knees. The cramp in his neck from passing out halfway through and waking up bent at ninety degrees. And the hours he spent agonizing through emails with the inflight WiFi because even on vacation he can’t sit still for more than one minute. But now it’s a ticking time bomb before he curls up in a chair and passes out until morning.

Sofie snatches his glass before shooing him away from the sink and taking his place. “I forgot you’re an old man now.”

“You’re the same age as me?”

“Anyway,” she sings. “I know we promised you’d have your own room but—”

“That’s fine. I really don’t mind rooming with one of the guys.”

“Well… you and Y/N were the only ones not sharing and she said she wouldn’t mind for the weekend.”

“Huh?”

“I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal! Seokmin and Kwan agreed to share and room with Josh so things are pretty tight but I can see if we can switch things around and—”

“No, if she’s okay with it then it's fine.” Seungcheol says. “We just haven’t talked since, you know?”

Sofie seems to soften at that. “Seems like everything was fine outside.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol sighs. “I missed her.” 

“I know she missed you too.”

“She said that?”

“Oh please, neither of you have to say anything, you’re both pathetic,” she says while pouring another glass. “But I think this weekend will be good for you guys! Like old times.”

Old times. Before the fight. Before you moved away.

“Yeah, just like old times… At least we aren’t sharing a bed, right?” He jokes. 

“Actually,” Sofie grimaces. 

The one solace Seungcheol is gifted is the bed is massive. Almost the entire room is dominated by the plush mattress, a dresser, and a chair in the corner. He considers sleeping in that instead for all of a minute before realizing you probably wouldn’t let him and the absolute torture it’ll do to his neck. 

At least the forced proximity won’t be awkward since you’ve silently agreed to leave the past behind you. He can’t imagine Sofie would consider this solution if you were still mad at him, even if it was her wedding week. The realization lightens the weight on his shoulders an ounce more.

Seungcheol throws his bag down at the foot of the bed. It’s no big deal; sharing a room with you. Childhood sleepovers had been the norm, a few nights in college you’d shared a clunky old twin bed when you both were too drunk to find your ways home separately. Your first apartment together, when you two had to share a mattress on the floor for the first weeks because all your money went into paying rent, flash in his head. Old times.

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and in clean clothes, Seungcheol heads back downstairs for a glass of water before bed.

He remembers where the kitchen is after Sofie’s short tour, trapezing through the huge house easily. Behind different closed doors he catches glimpses of pre-sleep conversations: couples spitting harsh whispers to each other, a few cartoonish voices reading bedtime stories to an audience of childish giggles. But when he reaches the threshold of his destination Seungcheol stumbles into an entirely different atmosphere.

“You haven’t told him yet?”

“No. I didn’t feel like the kind of thing to say over text.”

“Well you could have called him!”

“And say what? ‘Hey Cheol, I know we haven’t talked in months because we got into a huge fight about my boyfriend but Johnny and I–’”

Seungcheol strains his ears to hear the rest of your sentence but fails to decipher anything before Jeonghan’s voice cuts in. Whatever ‘it’ is, you’re not ready to tell him.

“Just tell him.” Jeonghan says through a mouthful of something. “I’m sure he’ll be happy.”

His mind races with a million possibilities, all related to Johnny, all things you wouldn’t have told your best friend of over twenty years because of some stupid fight. Something you don’t know how to tell him over the phone, something you need to tell in person.

The realization strikes like lightning.

You and Johnny are engaged.

Thirst forgotten, Seungcheol turns back the way he came. He thinks through the new information as he stumbles up the stairs.

How could you not tell him? How could he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him? How long have you been hiding this? And why did Jeonghan and Sofie know before he did? Was everyone in on the secret and he was the odd man out?

You and Johnny weren’t even that serious when you moved away; or, that's what Seungcheol thought. In all honesty he fully believed it was some joke when you told him. A drunken practical joke taken too far but then the boxes were packed away and the moving truck came and you left with it. 

Everything else hits him in the seclusion of the bedroom. Your shared room. At least for the rest of the week.

Seungcheol isn’t happy. He is, but because you’re you, argument aside. If Johnny makes you happy enough to tie your lives together then he can bite his tongue. You’re his best friend and by default he’d never think anyone was good enough for you but if you loved Johnny, if you were this serious about him, then Seungcheol would support you.

Even if it meant there would always be a Johnny sized ravine between you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

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push and pull // feitan portor

tw ⇢ hate fucking, kinda rivals to lovers, mentions of violence and injuries, sexual tension, grinding, fingering, biting, cunnilingus, squirting, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cum-eating, implied voyeurism, rough sex, manhandling, overstimulation, feitan spanks you once

wc ⇢ 8.7k

a/n: this man is so difficult to write for 💀

The dimly lit hideout reeked of stale blood and smoke, the dank air carrying the weight of countless atrocities committed within its walls. In one corner, you and Feitan squared off, teeth bared and murder in your eyes.

"You son of a bitch," you snarled, fists clenched so tightly your nails bit into your palms. "That was my kill."

Feitan scoffed, his expression one of utter disdain. "Tch. As if a pathetic worm like you deserves the honor." His lips curled in a sneer. "I was putting that fool out of his misery before you botched the job...again."

A vein throbbed in your temple as you took a threatening step forward. "I'll show you who's pathetic, you arrogant little shit."

Before either of you could strike, a massive figure inserted itself between you, Nobunaga's broad chest blocking your path. "Enough!" he bellowed, dark eyes flashing dangerously. "Unless you want Chrollo brought into this, I suggest you two back off."

You and Feitan held each other's glare for a beat longer before grudgingly disengaging. As you turned away, Feitan spat a glob of phlegm that landed disturbingly close to your feet.

"This isn't over," he promised, voice laced with quiet menace.

Grinding your teeth, you fought the urge to whirl back around and rip Feitan's throat out with your bare hands. The only thing staying your hand was the unspoken rule against infighting - a rule that both of you constantly tested the limits of.

"One of these days..." you trailed off meaningfully.

Feitan's lip curled in a feral grin. "I can't wait."

As he slunk off into the shadows, you turned your frustrated glower on Nobunaga. The samurai met your look with an impassive stare.

"You two need to get your shit together," he stated bluntly. "These pissing contests are getting old."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Nobunaga raised a hand, cutting you off.

"I don't want to hear it. Take that shit outside if you must, but if you compromise one more mission with your bullshit, Chrollo will have both your heads."

Fuming silently, you could only nod in grudging agreement. Everyone in the Troupe knew better than to risk incurring their leader's wrath.

As Nobunaga wandered off, you allowed some of the tension to bleed from your shoulders with a weary sigh. Your eyes drifted to the corner where Feitan had disappeared, cold hatred settling into the pit of your stomach.

The next few days were a tense affair, the air thick with animosity every time you and Feitan occupied the same space. You traded insults and thinly veiled threats like volleys, each one more creatively vicious than the last.

"I heard the bakery down the street got a new shipment of rat poison," Feitan would muse idly, his dark eyes glittering. "I could slip some into your dinner if you'd like to try it."

You responded with a saccharine smile. "Why thank you, that's so considerate. But I ate rat poison for breakfast...your severed head on a platter is what I'm really craving."

The other Spiders quickly learned to give you both a wide berth during these escalating verbal sparring matches. Only Machi seemed unperturbed, rolling her eyes at your juvenile antics with a disdainful sniff.

The tension finally reached a breaking point a week later during a routine mission. Tasked with shaking down a local merchant for unpaid tribute, you and Feitan bickered the entire way over the most effective interrogation methods.

"If you so much as look at him wrong, I'll string you up by your entrails," Feitan hissed as you approached the target's store.

You barked out a harsh laugh. "As if I need pointers from an edgy little runt like you. I'll make this idiot squeal like a stuck pig while you watch and learn, shrimp."

The ensuing encounter quickly devolved into a pissing contest between the two of you over who could dole out the most creatively brutal threats and violence. By the time Pakunoda and Nobunaga arrived to collect you, the merchant was a blubbering, bloodied mess - the money long forgotten.

"This is the third time this month you idiots have fouled up a simple job," Pakunoda stated, her voice laced with barely restrained fury. "I've had enough of your bullshit."

Before either of you could react, her ability slammed into you both with the force of a typhoon. You slumped to the ground, mind wiped utterly blank as she extracted your memories of the incident.

When you came to a few moments later, Feitan was already lurching to his feet with a groan. You shot him a venomous glare, to which he responded by spitting a thick gobbet of blood at your feet.

"Starting to think you actually enjoy getting knocked around like that," you sneered, struggling to stand.

Feitan's eyes flashed with murderous rage. "Why you little-"

"ENOUGH!" Pakunoda's shout shook the room. "The next time you two sabotage a mission with your idiocy, I'll make sure you never remember your own names again. Am I making myself clear?"

You clenched your jaw but nodded stiffly. As much as you hated to admit it, the woman's threatening ability terrified you on a primal level.

In the ensuing silence, you cut your gaze towards Feitan, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. A thin trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, crimson stark against his pallid skin.

Despite your blinding loathing for the cocky little bastard, you couldn't deny the dark flicker of something else that stirred within you at the sight. You quickly smothered it beneath your ire.

One day, you vowed silently. One day, this powder keg would finally ignite.

The hideout was unnervingly quiet when the rest of the Troupe returned that evening. An eerie hush had settled over the dingy space, the kind of stillness that made the hairs on the back of one's neck prickle with unease.

As the group ventured deeper inside, the first drops of blood became visible - dark splatters marring the concrete floor. Nobunaga tensed, hand straying towards the sword slung across his back as they followed the grisly trail around a corner.

What they found then pulled them all up short, eyes widening in a mixture of shock and disgust. You and Feitan were in the center of the room, a tangled heap of flailing limbs and bloodied violence.

A feral snarl ripped from Feitan's throat as he tried in vain to dislodge you from where you'd pinned his smaller frame. In the struggle, his shirt had been shredded, exposing a mottled tapestry of dark bruises across his sinewy torso.

You weren't faring much better. Your face was a ruined mess - eyes swollen, lip split and gushing, vivid bite marks scoring your throat and shoulders. Despite the beating, you clung to him like a rabid animal, hands scrabbling for purchase to finish him.

"You crazy bitch!" Feitan's harsh pants turned your name into a vicious slur as he bucked and thrashed.

In response, you drove your elbow towards his face with sickening force, not caring that his head snapped back hard enough to crack against the floor. Bloodied spittle flecked his cheek as you leaned in close, lips peeling back in a manic snarl of your own.

"That all you got, runt?" You wheezed out a breathless laugh, nails gouging deep furrows into Feitan's straining throat. "I was hoping for more of a fight before I killed you."

A guttural growl bubbled up from Feitan's chest as his hips snapped upwards with bruising force, momentarily dislodging you. The two of you rolled, a flurry of grappling limbs and tattered clothing, each desperately struggling for the upper hand to deliver the killstroke.

It was Machi who finally intervened, upper lip curled in a sneer of revulsion. With a deft flick of her nen threads, she sliced through the melee and bound you both - Feitan hog-tied and you lashed spread-eagle to the floor.

"Enough of this depraved idiocy," she bit out, dark eyes flickering with disgust. "You're both lucky we don't slit your throats here and now for such weakness."

Feitan strained furiously against his bonds, deathly pale except for the mottled mess of his ruined face. His gaze swung wildly between you and the other Spiders, feral and uncomprehending.

You simply laid there, chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. Spitting out a thick gobbet of blood, you turned your head slowly until your battered gaze met Feitan's. A dark, unreadable look passed between you both - something haunted and turbulent flickering behind the hatred and violence.

If the rest of the Troupe noticed, they said nothing. Gathering themselves, they began to disperse - leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage until Chrollo could decide your punishment.

Chrollo's expression was utterly impassive as he surveyed the two of you - bruised, battered shells of your former selves after that vicious brawl. His lips quirked ever so slightly as he took in your defiant glares, eyes flickering with loathing.

"You two have become a liability," he stated, voice devoid of inflection. "Your pathetic inability to control yourselves nearly compromised everything we've built."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Chrollo raised a slender hand, effectively silencing you.

"Normally, I would have Pakunoda wipe your memories clean and be done with it." His eyes bored into you, glacial and unrelenting. "However, I have another task that requires your...unique talents."

Feitan made a rude noise of derision from where he sat slumped against the wall. You shot him a withering glare before turning an expectant look back towards your leader.

"You will attend the DeMario charity gala in two weeks' time," Chrollo continued calmly. "Posing as a wealthy couple, you'll insinuate yourselves into the inner circles and extract information from Marcello Randazzo - rumored to be a prolific collector of rare antiquities."

The implication hung heavy in the air for a beat before the weight of it slammed into you full force. Your mouth fell open in disbelief as you turned an incredulous look on Feitan, who was already visibly bristling with outrage.

"You can't be serious," you sputtered, temper flaring hot and bright. "There's no way in hell I'm playing make-believe as that bastard's lover!"

"Over my dead body." Feitan's low, raspy voice was laced with venom. "I'd sooner claw my own eyes out than be seen on that bitch's arm."

Chrollo's eyes flashed warningly and you felt the slightest prickle of his powerful aura washing over you, a silent threat. "You'll do as I command. Unless you'd both prefer to follow the fate of the hostages we collected from that ill-advised debt collection?"

He let the unspoken threat hang in the air for a long moment before continuing.

"I'm sure Marcello's information is worth playing along for an evening. Unless you'd prefer some...permanent disciplinary actions?"

You and Feitan held each other's murderous look for a moment longer before grudgingly turning your gazes away in submission. As much as you despised each other, neither of you were foolish enough to legitimately cross Chrollo.

"I expect you'll both conduct yourselves with aplomb and professionalism befitting our reputation," your leader stated flatly. "Any further disruptions or unbecoming behavior, and I'll have Pakunoda take away more than just your memories of the gala."

With that ominous warning, he swept from the room, leaving you and Feitan alone to simmer in your mutual resentment and disgust.

Seconds ticked by, taut with palpable tension, before you finally broke the silence with a contemptuous sneer.

"I hope you know how to dance, Portor," you bit out acidly. "I have a strong urge to grind my heel into those stumpy little feet of yours."

Feitan's eyes slitted with murderous promise as he levered himself upright with a pained grunt.

"Keep dreaming," he shot back caustically. "I'll be counting the minutes until I can slit that pretty throat of yours without consequence."

As your vicious glares clashed and held, it was abundantly clear that this mission posing as lovers would be anything but smooth sailing. For both your sakes, you could only hope the inevitable storm wouldn't capsize everything you'd built.

The ornate dressing room was suffused with tension as thick as the heavy perfume hanging in the air. You sat rigidly before the gilded vanity, jaw clenched tight as Machi deftly styled your hair into an elegant updo.

"Would you relax?" The girl's voice held a hint of irritation. "You're as wound up as a clockspring."

You shot her a venomous look in the mirror's reflection. "Forgive me if I'm not exactly eager to play Ken and Barbie with that sadistic little gnome."

A snort of muffled laughter came from the chaise where Shizuku and Pakunoda were laid out, idly inspecting their phone screens. You pivoted to fix them with a withering glare.

"Something amusing?"

Shizuku shook her head quickly, eyes widening innocently even as her lips twitched with suppressed mirth. Pakunoda simply arched one sculpted brow in a look of infinite disdain.

"Must you be so crass?" The blonde's dulcet tones somehow managed to sound derisive. "This is an important mission, not some childish game."

"Tell that to our 'esteemed leader'," you bit out acidly, making air-quotes. "Playing dress-up as Feitan's loving wife is about the sickest joke I've ever heard."

Machi made a soft noise of disgust as she speared another jeweled hairpin into place. "You're both behaving like petulant children. This is simply a job - nothing more. The sooner you and Feitan stop acting like lovesick buffoons, the smoother this night will go."

Her reprimand struck a nerve and you opened your mouth to deliver a biting retort when a sharp rap at the door cut you off. A moment later, Feitan slipped into the room, looking equal parts irritated and sheepish in his elegant tuxedo and slicked-back hair.

Your breath caught momentarily in your throat as you took in his appearance. Despite the permanent scowl etched onto his features, he cleaned up...well. The fine charcoal suit hugged the lean lines of his muscled frame in a way that should have been illegal.

Just as quickly, you smothered the errant thought, sneering at him in disdain. "Well, well, if it isn't Feitan Portor himself, dressed up like someone finally house-trained him."

Feitan's eyes flashed and he opened his mouth - no doubt to deliver a scathing rebuttal - when Machi smoothly interjected.

"Enough, you two." She leveled you both with a quelling look. "The car is ready, so I suggest you get your acts together before I tie you both up in nen threads to keep you in line."

An ominous threat given her prowess with her sadistic ability. You bit back the retort burning on your tongue and forced yourself to take a steadying breath. God, this night was going to be interminable.

Rising fluidly, you smoothed your hands down the shimmering fabric of your evening gown, subtly reveling in the way Feitan's eyes automatically tracked the movement before flicking away. Feeling petty, you allowed your lips to curve into a taunting smirk.

"Well, shall we, dear?" You crooned the endearment like a slur, watching his jaw tense infinitesimally. "I can already smell the misery wafting from those uppity pricks just waiting to be robbed blind."

Feitan's look could have curdled milk, but he extended his arm stiffly all the same. As you entwined yours through the crook of his elbow, his fingertips brushed feather-light against the bare skin of your back, raising gooseflesh in their wake.

"Lead the way, wife" he bit out with obvious distaste. "Try not to embarrass me too terribly in front of the marks."

Your derisive laughter was a caustic thing as you allowed him to escort you towards the exit.

"Oh Feitan, we're way past embarrassing at this point. I'd say this night is primed to be a total shitshow."

His dark chuckle echoed yours as you departed the dressing room - a soft, shared sound that somehow managed to sound equal parts threatening and thrilling.

The sleek town car purred to a stop before the opulent entranceway, and you took a steadying breath before allowing Feitan to assist you out onto the crimson carpet. Despite the months of rigorous training and countless assignments in your bloody career, you couldn't deny the flutters of trepidation in your stomach.

This was it - the moment to see if you two idiotic sadists could pull off playing a loving couple without slitting each other's throats.

Feitan's hand was firm at your elbow as you ascended the grand staircase, his expression locked in a rictus of forced neutrality. Up close, you could make out the barest hint of cologne wafting from him - something earthy and sophisticated that shouldn't have appealed, yet had your throat tightening oddly all the same.

Then you were sweeping through the arched doors and into the spectacle of the ballroom itself. A dazzling kaleidoscope of glittering crystal and jewel-toned decor assaulted the senses. The hum of cultured chatter and tinkling laughter washed over you as you took in the crowd of Yorknew's social elite, all decked in their finest attire.

You felt Feitan tense almost imperceptibly beside you before he was smoothly taking the lead, guiding you further into the fray with a proprietary hand at the small of your bare back. A shiver traced your spine at the contact, though from revulsion or something else, you couldn't say.

"Try not to look so much like a viper about to strike, dear," he murmured against your ear, voice a surprising low rumble. "We're supposed to be the picture of marital bliss, remember?"

You bit back the instinctive need to elbow him in the throat, instead pasting on a sickly-sweet smile.

"Of course, darling. Though with how titillating you look in that dashing suit, I may have trouble keeping my hands off you in public."

His lips quirked in a mockery of a grin, even as his dark eyes remained flat and assessing. For all his bravado, Feitan was firmly in killer-mode, scanning the ballroom with cold calculation.

Playing along, you looped one arm through his, allowing your free hand to roam almost territorially over the fine material of his jacket as you began to mingle with the other revelers. With each new cluster of mark- ahem, guest you engaged, you felt yourself relaxing infinitesimally into the role of the devoted wife on her husband's arm. Feitan too, seemed to warm to the act, his featherlight touches and heated murmurs just skirting the line between play-acting and something darker, more authentic.

It wasn't until you were deep in conversation with one of Randazzo's alleged underbosses that the illusion flickered momentarily. Leaning in conspiratorially, you relayed the crucial details you'd extracted about the mobster's dealings in the black market antiquities trade. But when you glanced up to share a weighted look with your "husband", you found Feitan's gaze was distinctly...elsewhere.

Following his stare, you bit back an irritated hiss at the realization that his attention had been utterly diverted by the low neckline of your evening gown, eyes firmly trained on the swell of exposed cleavage. His tongue darted out to wet his lips unconsciously as he drank in the view.

"Feitan!" You hissed out the side of your mouth, snapping your fingers to regain his focus. "Are you listening, or are my tits really that mesmerizing?"

He startled, gaze snapping guiltily upwards as you fixed him with a heated glare. For a beat, Feitan seemed utterly nonplussed, caught completely off-guard in a rare moment of distracted...appreciation? Honesty? His eyes were wide and molten in a way you'd never seen before - utterly disarming.

Then the mask slammed back into place with a nearly audible click, and he simply arched one brow in response.

"My apologies, dear. You were saying?"

And just like that, you were speaking to the most dangerous man in the room once again, cold and brutally efficient. Swallowing hard, you relayed the rest of the intel automatically, even as something restless took up residence beneath your breastbone - an odd, disquieting feeling sparked by that split-second glimpse of whatever it was you'd seen flickering behind Feitan's eyes.

As you continued to circulate through the crowd and ply your roles, you found yourself stealing sidelong glances at your diminutive partner more frequently than was wise. Each time, it was to find him in typical form - lethal focus etched across his features, not a hair out of place or a single tell to betray...whatever it was you'd witnessed earlier.

The grand ballroom seemed to bleed into a hazy blur around you as the waltz began, the opening strains of the orchestra swelling through the cavernous space. Feitan's hand found your waist with surprising gentleness, pulling you into the first steps of the dance.

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other, the newfound proximity seeming to crackle with a charge you refused to put a name to. Up close like this, you could make out the faintest dusting of freckles across the sharp planes of his cheekbones, the dark fan of his lashes. Little details you'd never noticed - or never allowed yourself to notice until now.

"I must say, dear wife," he murmured, voice a dark rumble that shivered across your skin. "You clean up rather nicely for a miserable little gutter rat."

You arched one brow coolly, refusing to be baited even as you moved seamlessly with him across the floor. "I'm surprised you can recognize 'nice' through that perverse little killer's lens of yours, darling husband."

His lips quirked in a semblance of a grin, though it held no mirth - only the same lingering malice that seemed to follow you both like a sickly perfume.

"The better to watch every tantalizing inch of you with, my vicious little vixen." His grip tightened fractionally at your waist, fingertips brushing bare skin. "Perhaps I'll have to stake my claim more...thoroughly later."

You scoffed loudly, allowing your palm to roam down the firm plane of his chest as you spun in seamlessly for the next figure.

"Trying to whisper sweet nothings won't get you far, darling. I've heard more creative threats from preschoolers."

Feitan simply hummed deep in his throat, a rough sound that inexplicably raised the fine hairs along the back of your neck. His gaze, when you met it again, had taken on a dark, hooded quality that had heat pooling low in your belly despite yourself.

"Say what you will, wife," he practically purred, dipping you in a slow, lingering arc that brought your bodies into sinful alignment. "We both know those pretty little lips were made for better uses than childish barbs."

His thumb caressed your chin with barely-there tenderness as he pulled you upright again, scorching your skin like a brand. For an endless second, you simply swayed there in silence, chests brushing with every stuttering inhale, caught in the molten undertow of his stare.

Dimly, you registered the buzz of an alarmed voice echoing over the sound system, followed by the unmistakable wail of police sirens dopplering towards the estate. Masks began slipping as guests registered the threat, panic seeping into the ballroom like a tenuous haze.

In that moment, time seemed to splinter apart kaleidoscopically, stretching and scattering until all that remained was the unnameable thing gripping your heart in its stifling vise. You turned back to Feitan, already anticipating the vicious string of threats ready to tumble from his lips as your covers were blown apart.

But there was no anger simmering in those unfathomable depths this time - only a searing sort of intensity that pinned you in place, ignited something low and precarious in your core that you didn't dare put a name to. His fingers were still ghosting across the curve of your jaw, a scorching benediction that somehow managed to convey both possession and worship in the same toxic mix.

You watched, utterly transfixed, as he leaned in with aching slowness, lips brushing the softest whisper against the thrumming pulse at your throat. Then he simply held there, breath searing like a brand, driving ragged splinters of sensation rocketing through your body.

"Run," he rasped, the barest brushing of sound against your superheated skin.

Just like that, the spell was shattered, reality cleaving back into your field of vision as distant shouts and shattering crystal rent the atmosphere. Feitan's fingers slipped from your skin, leaving a throbbing ache of loss in their wake as he pivoted and simply vanished through the thickening crowd.

Blinking dazedly, you found your limbs unlocking woodenly as you staggered into motion, following the only directive that seemed to make sense as the ballroom descended into pandemonium. One foot in front of the other as your heart jackhammered double-time in your ribcage, coursing with an unfamiliar feeling that felt a hell of a lot like it was tearing you apart from the inside.

Run. The word seemed to echo inside your skull as you fled through the service exit, a ghost's refrain. Though from what - the explosion of chaos around you or the cataclysm blooming deep within, you weren't entirely sure.

All you knew was that you would never be the same after this night. How could you when Feitan had irrevocably annihilated every fragile barrier you'd constructed between you, leaving your entire world shifted on its axis?

The dank alleyway reeked of rot and piss as you slammed Feitan against the filthy brickwork, fingers snarling in the lapels of his once-pristine tuxedo. A thin trickle of blood oozed from the split in his brow, vivid crimson against his pallid features.

"This is all your fault, you arrogant little prick!" The words tore from your throat in a guttural snarl as you shook him viciously. "If you could stop eye-fucking me long enough to focus for two goddamn seconds-"

"My fault?" He cut you off with a wheezing laugh, still managing to look utterly derisive despite the position you had him pinned in. "If your whorish little act wasn't so shameless and distracting-"

You drew back a fist, fully prepared to break his smug nose, when a peel of distant sirens had you both freezing. After a momentary standoff, you released him with a disgusted shove, wiping a trembling hand across your sweat-slicked brow as you struggled to leash your spiraling temper.

"Forget it, we need to move. Our exit is compromised."

Feitan sneered at you as he straightened his jacket with a dismissive tug, refusing to acknowledge he was just as rattled. His gaze took on a faraway look for a split second before he gave a tight nod.

"Chrollo sent a new set of coordinates. There's a safe house two blocks west."

You fell into step beside him, moving at a clipped pace that matched the jackhammer pounding of your pulse. Every few steps, your shoulders would brush with the barest whisper of contact, reigniting a phantom echo of the way he'd felt pressed against you on the dance floor.

The memory had you grinding your teeth hard enough to make the hinges creak, riling the sickly ribbon of confusion currently squirming through your gut. What the hell had happened back there? One minute you were shredding each other with barbs as natural as breathing, the next...

You shook your head sharply, refusing to dwell on the hunger that had momentarily flickered in Feitan's gaze. Or the way your entire body had sung in response, every nerve alight like a livewire about to detonate. It was nothing - a fleeting second of insanity brought on by the adrenaline and heightened circumstance. An anomaly, meaningless in the grand scheme of your...whatever the hell this sick alliance was.

Shoving the errant thoughts aside, you pushed forward into the overgrown lot Feitan indicated, trampling a wavering path through the weeds towards a squat, nondescript building. Not a word was exchanged as he disarmed the security system and led you inside to the dingy, compact space that would be your shelter for the foreseeable future.

You grimaced as you took in the sparse furnishings and musty odor. "Fucking fantastic."

Feitan simply grunted, dropping his suit jacket over the back of a battered recliner as he began divesting himself of weapons and gear. Only when he reached the buttons on his shirt did he pause, shadows obscuring his expression as he cut you a sidelong glance.

"I'd offer to let you shower first but..."

But there was only one visible door that presumably led to a solitary bathroom. You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the first tendrils of an stress-migraine coiling behind your eyes.

"Just get on with it before I decide to gut you and bleed out in the tub like a fucking woman scorned."

A bark of laughter punched from Feitan at the morbid joke before he could smother it. You blinked at him, oddly thrown by the genuine amusement glinting in his obsidian stare for a fleeting second. Then the moment passed, and he simply shrugged out of the soiled dress shirt, turning to disappear through the doorway without further comment.

You were left standing in the middle of the ramshackle living area, keenly aware of the steady drip of blood tracking from your split knuckles to patter on the cracked vinyl floor. With measured inhales, you attempted to shunt the chaos of the evening into a small, containable box to be unpacked later. Feitan was right, getting cleaned up would be the priority for now. After that...

Well, you'd just have to sort through this tangled web you'd woven like adults. And if violence and bloodshed was the only way to sever the noose cinching around your sanity, so be it. At least that path you understood - that was stable, solid ground to walk upon with him.

This... whatever it was brewing between you like a virulent sickness, was far more lethal.

The pipes clanked and groaned as you twisted the tarnished shower knobs, filling the cramped bathroom with a humid, enveloping steam. Grimacing, you peeled off the tattered remnants of your evening gown, letting the ruined silk puddle at your feet.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the warped mirror above the chipped porcelain sink - hair lank and makeup ravaged, vivid bruises already darkening along your ribs from your rough tumble during the escape. More telling, however, were the faint indents marring the swell of your breast, pressed there by Feitan's fingertips in the ballroom like brands seared into your very being.

A violent shudder ripped through you at the visceral recollection, every nerve ending rekindling with phantom echoes of his scorching touch. Slamming your palm against the mirror, you shattered the refracted image into a thousand fractals, each one reflecting back the turmoil roiling in your expression.

With a ragged exhale, you shed the rest of your undergarments and stepped beneath the mercifully scalding spray, welcoming the harsh sting across your battered skin. Anything to dull the incessant buzzing beneath, the molten licks of pure confusion that had you splaying one palm over your lower abdomen in a futile gesture.

After several long, steadying minutes, you finally felt coherent thought filtering back, shunting the chaos into submission - at least for now. Grabbing a towel, you twisted it around your body and yanked open the bathroom door, striding back into the main room with a cloud of steam billowing in your wake.

Feitan stood in the cramped kitchenette, spine taut as a bowstring as he doctored the split over his brow with clumsy, one-handed stitches. At your abrupt entrance, his shoulders twitched and rolled almost imperceptibly, head swiveling to face you with narrowed eyes.

"About time," he groused, voice sandpaper rough. "I was starting to think you'd drowned yourself in there to avoid facing the cosmic fuckup you-"

Whatever insult he'd been ready to deploy withered and died as his obsidian gaze dropped lower, raking over the exposed expanse of damp skin visible beneath your precariously knotted towel with undisguised hunger. His throat bobbed convulsively as he swallowed hard, suddenly looking anywhere but at you.

"Dammit," he snarled after a strained pause, teeth snapping the crass endearment like a viper's strike. "A little warning about parading around like that would be appreciated."

Despite the multiple layers of ice coating his tone, you detected the barest wobble crack along its surface - an infinitesimal tremor betraying the struggle to maintain his sangfroid. A meandering lick of validation bloomed through you at having caught him so thoroughly off-guard, splitting your lips in a mocking moue.

"What, am I making Lord Feitan flustered?" You stalked forward challengingly, towel slipping lower with every predatory step to bare more glistening skin. "Seems your vaunted self-control has sprung a rather conspicuous leak, husband."

His nostrils flared minutely at the poisonous endearment, fingers tightening around the bloodied gauze until his knuckles shone bone-white. Yet, his stare remained steadfastly fixed above your collarbones, the muscle in his jaw twitching erratically.

"Keep pushing, wife ," he bit out in a strained rasp. "You're cruising for a brutality you're ill-equipped to face tonight."

The unveiled threat landed square in your solar plexus, simultaneously shunting your reckless desire to poke the caged beast and stoking a deeper, infinitely more terrifying burn low in your belly. You felt yourself sway forward of its own volition, every instinct honed on a whetstone of fear and adrenaline screaming at you to retreat, to reassert the fragile barriers before they were obliterated entirely.

Yet you held your ground, searching Feitan's expression for any flicker of the same wounded animality you felt ricocheting through your own veins, your towel slipping another infinitesimal fraction down your sternum in the process. His eyes followed the movement with searing intensity before snapping back up, something dark and unfurling igniting in those obsidian depths.

"Bring it, husband," you heard yourself hissing recklessly. "I'll shove those brutalities so far up your sadistic little ass, you'll be regurgitating blood and teeth for a month."

You could have sworn his pupils blew wide at that, flaring with undisguised relish before he was lunging for you, movements a blur of untamed violence. If you'd hoped to provoke him, to unleash whatever it was roiling between you into the light, you were rewarded a thousand fold.

His hands were iron manacles around your biceps, slamming you back against the grease-stained counter as his lithe body caged yours with arching menace. You crashed together like colliding celestial bodies - unstoppable force meeting immovable object in a maelstrom of jagged breaths and stifling heat.

"Should've kept your mouth shut, dear," he growled against the hammering pulse in your throat. Each consonant scorched like a brand, igniting detonations of raw sensation you were powerless to withstand. "Now you get to take exactly what's coming to you."

His hips rolled into yours with bruising force, crushing your lower bodies together as his teeth sank into the juncture of your neck and shoulder hard enough to reave a harsh gasp from you. Not quite a bite, but a vicious promise all the same - a precursor to the violence he was poised to inflict that would leave no question as to whom you belonged.

You were suddenly lightheaded, nerves blazing white-hot as your body responded viscerally to his provocation. Mortification, anger, arousal - every emotion flooded your senses in a dizzying, inextricable miasma until you couldn't be sure what you felt any longer. Only that you burned feverishly from within, every cell straining towards the brutal inevitability of Feitan's next calculated strike.

When it came, your world whited out entirely, the resounding concussion off the counter rattling you down to your very marrow. There was no pain, only a discordant ringing and an unbearable pressure centered below your diaphragm. A sustained, broken noise reverberated in the cramped space that you belatedly recognized as your own ruined voice.

Feitan remained locked against you with grim triumph, the pads of his fingers leaving livid crescents in your flesh as he drank in your total debasement and undoing. When he leaned in next, you were certain without a shadow of a doubt that anything left unraveled between you would be torn asunder in the next breath.

You glared at Feitan from your sprawled position on the floor, chest heaving as you swiped the back of your hand across your split lip. A thin rivulet of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth as well, stark against his pallid skin.

"You're going to pay for that, you sadistic little bastard," you growled, levering yourself upright with your elbows.

Feitan simply arched one brow mockingly, his tongue darting out to lave at the crimson seeping from his busted lip. The sight of it, so obscene yet undeniably magnetic, had molten anger roiling through your veins anew.

"I'd like to see you try, bitch," he taunted in that raspy timbre that somehow managed to sound both threatening and profoundly unsettling. "Unless you plan on crying for Chrollo to intervene again?"

You were across the room in a blur, your towel slipping loose as you tackled him with bruising force. Feitan met your violence with feral glee, hands snarling in your sodden hair as you grappled viciously. The two of you crashed and rolled, trading blow for stinging blow in a whirlwind of flailing limbs.

At some point, your towel had come undone entirely, the terrycloth puddle abandoned on the floor as your bare skin met Feitan's sweat-slicked torso. Yet neither of you registered the complete state of undress, too singularly focused on the vicious undulations of your battle.

Finally, you managed to pin him beneath you, knees caging his hips as you fought to trap his wiry arms. Feitan thrashed and strained, every sinewy muscle corded to breaking as he bowed against your weight in a futile attempt to dislodge you.

Then, all at once, something within the atmosphere shifted - a subtle charge bleeding the rage from the air in a dizzying spiral. You both stilled as one, harsh pants reverberating between your sweat-sheened forms as you registered your tangled states. Feitan's gaze was hooded, pupils blown wide as they raked over every inch of your exposed, vulnerable flesh with undisguised hunger.

Belatedly, you realized your fingers were fisted in the sweat-damp fabric of his tank top, straining the material to translucence and leaving very little to the imagination. Your lips parted on a ragged inhale as Feitan's hips canted up in a subconscious grind, the blatant ridge of his cock catching you square between your bodies.

Time seemed to slow to a viscous crawl then, the world narrowing to the minuscule space between your labored breaths. Feitan's lashes fluttered once, twice, before his eyes slitted back open - dark pools of naked wanting that had you arching into him before conscious thought could intervene.

His mouth was searing, branding yours with a ferocity that stole the air from your lungs. Yet you returned his onslaught with equal desperation, all nails and teeth as you clutched him tighter against your naked body. There was no preamble, no gentle exploration - only the wild, unrestrained explosion of every unspoken want and need as you finally surrendered to the maelstrom.

Your fingers found the hem of his tank top, tearing it upward impatiently. Feitan's muscles rippled beneath your fingertips as you ran them reverently across every scarred inch of his chest and abdomen. When you flicked a teasing thumb across one hardened nipple, he hissed into your mouth, bucking up hard.

"Fuck," he swore, breaking the kiss with a ragged gasp. His fingers were tangled in your hair, holding you steady as his other hand skimmed up your bare flank. "If I'd known what a devious little whore you were, I'd have fucked you over every surface in that ballroom ages ago."

You arched one brow mockingly. "Is that so? Or would you have been too busy eye-fucking me to notice?"

The words left your lips in a breathless, taunting rush, and suddenly you were on your back again, the wind knocked from your lungs as Feitan pinned you against the floor with an animalistic snarl. He looked wild, utterly disheveled as his hips canted hard between your thighs.

"Perhaps I would have fucked that smart mouth of yours right there in the middle of the dance floor, wife," he practically purred, eyes gleaming as he rocked harder. "Would have had everyone watching how thoroughly I owned you."

Heat bloomed through your lower body at the vivid imagery, even as a traitorous moan slipped past your lips. Feitan smirked, a smug, victorious expression that had you surging up to catch his bottom lip between your teeth. He groaned, heady and deep, as you bit down, blood mingling on your tongues.

Then, abruptly, he was wrenching free, leaving you sprawled against the cracked tile. Before you could recover, his palm was wrapping around your ankle, yanking you across the floor like a ragdoll. Your fingers clawed at the ground, scrambling for purchase as you were dragged inexorably towards the couch.

The rough material was cold and abrasive against your skin as he flipped you over, yanking your ass into the air. Then his hands were spreading your thighs wide, and he was sinking his teeth into the tender flesh at the crease of your hip. You whimpered, hips grinding back against him mindlessly as your nails tore into the worn fabric.

His fingers were rough, merciless as they probed at your entrance, slicking through the evidence of your arousal. A choked moan slipped free at the sensation, back bowing as your spine arched involuntarily.

"Oh, look at how wet and desperate my vicious little whore is," Feitan crooned, two fingers curling inside you as his thumb circled your clit. "This what you've been aching for, wife?"

He punctuated the taunt by leaning in and biting the swell of your ass, sending a violent shudder through your core. Your fingers tangled in the frayed throw, the fibers ripping under your grip.

"Go fuck yourself," you bit out, hips canting back against him.

A sharp crack rang out as Feitan brought his palm down on your ass, a livid welt flaring across your skin. The sudden pain had you hissing, a curse rising on the tip of your tongue before it died as a third finger was shoved roughly inside you.

"Careful what you wish for," Feitan murmured, a hint of danger lacing his tone as his fingers thrust into you at a brutal pace. "I'd be more than happy to oblige, since you're such a cock-hungry little whore."

His words sent an undefinable pang through your core, your muscles clenching around him in a visceral response. He chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers with a final, lewd curl. You heard the jangle of his belt, the rustle of clothing being discarded, and then he was dragging the thick head of his cock through your folds.

"Please," the word escaped in a hoarse, pleading breath, the last vestiges of your pride crumbling away.

Feitan paused, his entire body stilling. A long, tense moment passed, the only sound between you two the rasp of your combined, ragged breathing. Then, slowly, his palms slid over the curve of your hips, thumbs hooking along the crest of your ass as he spread you wider.

"As you wish, dear wife," he replied in a strained whisper.

His first thrust was a violent thing, driving straight to the hilt in one harsh, relentless motion. You keened, fingers tearing deeper into the couch as the pain-pleasure of the stretch burned through every nerve ending.

Then, without pause, Feitan was fucking you in earnest, hips snapping forward with savage, staccato motions. Every inch of you was alight, electrified by the feel of him, the sound of his low, guttural grunts as he ravaged you.

You felt the tension mounting within, coiling low in your belly and spreading through every extremity like liquid fire. When Feitan's thumb ghosted against the tight ring of your ass, a violent spasm rocked you, a choked sob tearing free.

"You like that?" He practically growled, the pad of his thumb teasing the sensitive rim with a wicked rhythm that matched his thrusts. "Such a filthy little thing, you'll take it wherever I decide to shove it, won't you?"

Before you could even respond, the digit was pushing inside, sinking into your ass and stretching the tight muscle in a way that had tears spilling down your cheeks. Everything was too much, too overwhelming, the twin intrusions setting off a detonation of sensations that had you seeing stars.

You came hard, an uncontrolled explosive gush of liquid spraying all over the couch. Feitan moaned, an obscene, animalistic sound that had another aftershock wracking your entire body.

"Fuck, yes," he snarled, fingers digging bruises into your hips as he fucked you through the orgasm. "Soak me, whore. Mark me with every fucking inch of this tight little cunt."

His thumb twisted in tandem with his thrusts, stretching the ring of muscle to an almost-painful extent. It was too much, too fast, but every sensation felt dialed up to an eleven, leaving you helpless to do anything but ride the wave of his brutal pleasure.

When you came again, the scream ripped from your throat was a broken, fractured thing, a desperate, primal noise that Feitan seemed to revel in. You sagged against the couch, trembling uncontrollably as another rush of liquid coated his cock and thighs.

"God, that's it," Feitan hissed, sounding utterly undone. "Fuck, look at you, soaking and gushing all over me."

His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back sharply as his hips lost their rhythm. Then, without warning, his thumb was withdrawing, his grip shifting from your hair to your chin, wrenching your neck around.

Your eyes widened at the sight, the utter wreckage of him reflected back - flushed and wild-eyed, with his lips glistening and swollen from your earlier kisses. He was the very definition of unhinged, an untamed beast unleashed at last, and you'd never been more turned on in your life.

He kissed you again then, tongue plundering your mouth with a feral intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. You felt him throb and twitch, his moans becoming more frenzied, more broken. Then, with a final, brutal thrust, he was spilling inside you, the molten heat of his cum a brand marking you deep within.

You were barely able to catch your breath before Feitan was pulling out, rolling you onto your back and yanking your thighs over his shoulders. Your vision blurred for a moment, mind utterly uncomprehending, before the realization dawned - Feitan was burying his face between your thighs, his tongue plunging into the depths of your core to lap at the mess he'd left behind.

Sensation overload had you screaming, back bowing off the couch as another violent, full-body tremor ripped through you. Yet he refused to relent, his tongue relentless, his fingers joining the onslaught as they plunged into your abused hole to stroke at your oversensitive walls.

A third gush of liquid coated his fingers, and he was moaning, utterly shameless, against your pussy as he drank from you ravenously. The sound of him, debauched and unhinged, was too much, your nerves already rubbed raw.

You tried to push him away, the sensations too intense, too overwhelming. Yet Feitan simply growled, a muffled warning, his teeth closing on the hood of your clit. A sob wracked you, the overstimulation bordering on exquisite pain.

Then, he was sucking, tongue swirling and teasing and driving you mad. It was all too much, yet you couldn't pull away, couldn't escape the relentless tide he'd unleashed. When he slid a finger into your ass, the coil snapped, a white-hot, blinding rush that had you convulsing and screaming in his hold.

He worked you through the orgasm, his tongue gentling until the aftershocks had faded and you were left utterly wrecked, limbs quivering and mind completely obliterated.

When Feitan finally emerged, licking his lips like a self-satisfied cat, his expression was one of utter, smug satisfaction. You were barely able to form a coherent thought, much less an insult, so instead you settled for glaring at him weakly, trying to channel every ounce of disdain and irritation into your glare.

Feitan simply shrugged, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't look at me like that, dear wife. You started this."

You attempted a scathing retort, but only a ragged, garbled sound escaped as you realized the extent of your destruction. The couch was absolutely drenched, rivulets of liquid and cum leaking over the cushions in a vulgar display.

Feitan followed your line of sight, the smirk twisting into a lewd grin. "And to think, we've only just begun."

Before you could even begin to comprehend the implication, he was pulling you to your feet, scooping you over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. The next thing you knew, you were being dropped on the bed, bouncing against the sheets as he stalked after you.

"Now, wife, why don't we continue our honeymoon a bit longer?"

The dim of the Phantom Troupe's hideout greeted you and Feitan like a physical force as you stepped through the threshold. Raucous laughter and jeering whistles erupted the moment you appeared, drawing mortified flushes to both your cheeks.

"Well, well, if it isn't the newlyweds!" Nobunaga's booming voice cut through the catcalls as he swaggered over, a salacious grin splitting his weathered features. "Gotta say, I didn't peg you two for the kinky honeymoon suite types."

"I must admit, your performance was rather...enlightening," Chrollo interjected, the barest hint of a smirk playing across his lips as he leveled you with a weighted look.

You felt your face heat even further at the implication. Feitan shot you a murderous glare, clearly placing the blame squarely on your shoulders for this humiliation.

"You've got to be kidding me," he snarled through gritted teeth as understanding dawned.

"We had cameras installed to monitor your location," Machi confirmed with a longsuffering sigh. "For safety purposes. Though I don't think any of us expected...that level of disclosure."

Uvogin guffawed loudly, slapping his knee. "You mean you weren't hoping for some free live entertainment, Machi?"

The teasing and raucous laughter continued to swell around you as the rest of the Spiders utterly failed to contain their amusement at yours and Feitan's expense. Even the typically unflappable Pakunoda had a glint of mirth dancing in her eyes.

"I can assure you, the footage was quite...comprehensive," Chrollo offered blandly, making no effort to hide his satisfaction at your escalating mortification. "There were no details left to the imagination."

You sputtered incoherently, torn between the urge to burst into flames on the spot and throttling every last one of these voyeuristic savages with your bare hands. Feitan, meanwhile, looked two seconds from detonating entirely.

"You lecherous band of voyeurs!" he exploded, visibly shaking with rage as he whirled to face you. "And you! How did you not notice the goddamn cameras?!"

Seizing the opportunity to redirect even a fraction of the blame, you met his fury head-on.

"How did I not notice?! If you hadn't been too busy eye-fucking me at every turn like a horny mutt, maybe we both would have paid more attention to our surroundings!"

The argument quickly devolved into your typical vicious back-and-forth, insults and profanities flying as the Troupe howled with laughter around you. Eventually, you both stormed off in a cloud of barely restrained violence, hurling threats over your shoulders at the jeering pack of depraved hyenas.

As the sounds of your bickering faded down the corridor, Chrollo's smooth baritone carried after you with a hint of dark amusement.

"Do try and be more discreet next time, you two...unless you're intentionally putting on a show for us."

[creamhoodie]

First Time

A/N: Written for the person who requested it, I hope you enjoy it! synopsis: After you both confess that you are virgins in a game of truth or dare, Gojo offers to take your virginity. (afab reader, aged up characters, set during Gojo's Jujutsu High days)

You still remember the moment you fell in love with Satoru Gojo. It was when you had joined Jujutsu High and met him for the first time. You had met him outside by the koi fish pond. Coming from a non sorcerer family, you didn’t know anything about him then. Not that he was the strongest, a practical God on Earth, the honored one. 

Not a damn thing. 

All you had known then was that he was handsome and so you had made small talk to him the way you would anyone else as you two sat and watched the fish swim in circles. You enjoyed his kind and witty personality and had immediately felt at ease with him. 

It was such a small thing but it had meant everything to him as well. You had seen him as simply Satoru and had spared him from all the usual awkward ogling. He had hoped as time went on that you wouldn’t change in your behavior with him as you learned more about him. 

He was grateful when you still treated him the same and as a result the two of you had become close friends. Of course neither of you had crossed that bridge regarding your mutual feelings out of fear of rejection and ruining the dynamic the two of you had going. 

Still, it was evident to anyone that knew the both of you that there were feelings there: mutual yearning and longing looks that when called out would be denied. Perhaps the two of you would have continued that way for who knows how long if it hadn’t been for Geto and Shoko that had suggested playing drunk truth or dare one night after coming back from a mission. 

“Wait so you’ve never had sex?” Shoko had asked you as that had been your truth question to answer. You had foolishly believed that choosing the truth would spare you from any embarrassment. 

“I told you the truth. I’ve never done that,” you had said, face hot. 

You hated talking about this in front of Gojo. Both Geto and Shoko admitted to having lost their virginity, the former bragging about just how many women he had been with from the sister school. 

“Well why haven’t you done it, yet? You’re very pretty I’m sure lots of guys would want to,” Shoko continued to press the issue. 

Though you knew she didn’t mean for it to be embarrassing, the spotlight on your lack of sexual experience was growing humiliating. Luckily, Gojo, who seemed to always be in tune with your feelings, spoke up. 

“So what if she hasn’t had sex? Leave her alone. It’s nothing to be embarrassed of,” he said. 

You gave him a wry smile as thanks, the heat from your cheeks dying down. 

“Well don’t leave us hanging, Satoru. You’ve been awfully quiet, what about yourself?” Geto asked.

You found that odd. Surely the two would talk about these things amongst each other, but Gojo was ever the mystery. 

“I haven’t had sex either if you must know,” he said. Unlike you there was no shred of embarrassment visible in his demeanor. 

“No way! But what about all those girls from the other school?” Shoko asked. 

Gojo shook his head.

“I said I didn’t have sex not that I didn’t do anything at all. Now can we please move on to something else?”

Luckily, the alcohol in everyone’s system kept the mood light hearted and the other two were easily derailed to other topics.

Afterwards, Gojo walked you back to your room. He had his hand resting on his neck the way it always did when he was pensive. He stopped in his tracks causing you to do the same.

“Listen what I said back there, I meant it. You shouldn’t be embarrassed just because you haven’t had your first time yet,” he said.

“Thanks for that,” you replied a little unsure of why he was bringing it up now. His cheeks seemed a little pink but perhaps that was the alcohol?

“I just think your first time should be with someone special, don't you agree?” he continued. 

“Yeah I feel the same,” you said. His next words caught you by surprise. 

“So I want you to know even though there’s nothing wrong with it, if you- you know don’t wanna be a virgin anymore I’d be cool with helping you out with that,” he said. His stuttering was unusual for him, especially since he was usually so confident and well composed. He was a young man of conviction and that’s why earlier he hadn’t been embarrassed to admit he was a virgin because he believed in the sentiment of the first time being sacred. 

“Are you offering to have sex with me?” you asked slowly, your mind not fully registering his words yet. 

“If you want to. I just- look, you’re special to me. You’ve always seen me for me,” he said, closing the slight gap between the two of you. His hand cupped your cheek before adding, “am I special to you?” 

Him touching you wasn’t unusual, as your close friend he had hugged you, ruffled your hair, and laid his head on your shoulder. All of these actions had always made your heart react and now was no different, in fact it only raced more alongside the question he had asked you. 

“Yes you’re special to me Satoru,” you said in almost a whisper. 

“Well I want you to think about it. My offer always stands. Shoko is right there’s no shortage of guys that would want to be with you, but I wanna be your first. You’re so special and important to me I wanna make sure you’re well taken care of.” 

He planted a kiss on your forehead and wished you goodnight then, leaving you to stay up restless considering his offer.

First, your mind thought about how he could possibly be a virgin as well. He was a known flirt and had flings even if not serious girlfriends, but he wasn’t a liar so you knew when he said he was a virgin he was telling the truth. 

Second, you wanted to be with him. You had always known that you had feelings for him so why deny him when he was offering it with good intentions? Despite it being the middle of the night, you called him. He answered on the first ring.

“What are you still doing up?” He asked, though his voice sounded just as alert with no hint of sleepiness.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied.

“Same,” he said laughing slightly and you were glad to know at least he was in a similar position.

“Listen about your offer. I agree,” you said.

“Holy shit, really?” He asked in both shock and excitement. 

“Yeah, I just thought about what you said..” you paused, chewing the inside of your cheek before continuing.. “Am I really special to you?” 

“Of course you are. I’ve never lied to you and I’m not going to start now,” he said seriously, and you believed him. You were silent for so long he spoke up again: “so do you want me to come over now or..”

Your cheeks felt on fire as you realized you hadn’t exactly called with a plan of action other than telling him you agree. 

“I hadn’t thought that far,” you admitted. 

“It’s okay. How about tomorrow night? That way we have time to prepare and think about it and everything,” he said gently and you were grateful at how he was trying to accommodate you. 

“Yeah tomorrow night sounds good,” you agreed. 

“Cool, so you wanna do it in my room or yours? I have no preference,” he said. 

“My room if that’s okay,” you replied. Your reasoning was you’d enjoy the familiarity of your room and your own bed would allow you to relax without having to worry about somehow ruining his. 

“That’s okay. I have some errands to run tomorrow but we’re still good for the night and I’ll text you to confirm,” he said. 

“Sounds good, well goodnight,” you said a little hurriedly.

“Goodnight,” he said before hanging up. 

Unbeknownst to each other, the two of you both struggled to get sleep that night as anticipation for the next night’s engagement. 

— 

“What’s that?” You asked Gojo as he showed up at your door at the time you had agreed upon with a medium sized pink paper bag in hand. 

“Just some things to set the mood and things we may need,” he said walking past you into the room. 

You closed and locked the door behind him watching as he started taking out white candles from the bag and placing them on your nightstand.

“That’s so thoughtful of you. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it before,” you said, shifting slightly. 

Your prep had consisted of taking an ‘everything shower’ earlier and making sure your body was moisturized and groomed to your liking. 

“Don’t worry about it. I want you to be comfortable,” he said, lighting the candles then going to turn off your electric light. 

“Should we use a condom?” you asked suddenly, remembering.

“It’s your decision. I brought some in the bag if you want me to wear one,” he said. 

He seemed to have thought about everything. You were grateful for his efforts to make you comfortable. You weren’t sure if you wanted to use a condom for your first time as you did want to be able to feel everything and you knew where you were in your cycle so the chances of pregnancy would be very low. 

“We can start with one if that’s okay and see how it goes,” you offered. 

“Sure, whatever you want,” he said, seeming indifferent about it.

You stood there and shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He smiled at you and went to sit at your bed, motioning you to come sit with him. You did so. 

“Sorry if this is awkward,” you said shyly, not meeting his gaze.

He lifted your chin up gently so you were forced to meet his eyes.

“It’s a learning experience for both of us. Don’t worry. Can I kiss you? That’s how it usually starts anyways,” he said. 

You gave him consent by nodding and his lips were on yours. At first the kiss was soft and gentle, sweet light pecks that allowed you to get used to the taste and feel of him. They soon grew more feverish as you kissed him back. His tongue entered your mouth, lightly grazing the roof of your mouth. 

“You taste good,” he whispered as the kiss broke apart a faint trail of saliva still connecting the two of you. 

“You do too,” you said, already feeling a pool of arousal forming between your thighs. His lips moved down your neck, and it felt so sensual and eventually he traced that path back with his lips, his destination being yours once more. You felt him smile against your lips. 

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, pulling away gently, his eyes ever so soft. 

“Yeah, you’re a really good kisser Satoru,” you complimented him. He shrugged it off but you could tell from his smile and the blushing of cheeks that the praise meant a lot to him. 

“Would it be okay if I took your shirt off? You can take mine off too,” he offered. 

“Yeah that’s fine,” you replied and held your arms up as he helped discard your lounge shirt leaving you exposed in your bra. 

“Wow you’re incredible,” he whispered in awe. 

“Thanks,” you said, hoping he didn’t notice how red your face was getting before you added,”let me help you now.”

His white cotton tee was soon discarded, revealing his muscular torso. Instinctively, you reached out to touch his six pack and he shivered a little at the touch.

“Sorry,” you said, quickly dropping your hand. 

“No,” he replied, taking your hand and placing it back where it had been, “it’s fine I like when you touch me.”

The sincerity in his words gave you courage and so you let your hands run down his chest, taking in the firmness of his sculpted figure. 

When you looked up at him he was watching you intently with fondness in eyes. 

“Can I touch you as well?” he asked. 

You nodded.

His large hands went to cup your breasts, the nipples were almost seeping out of your bra from this gesture, and it was alluring to him. He wanted to take his time though, and cherish every moment with you. 

You felt the same, and no words were needed as he kissed you again, still cupping your breasts through your bra. You sighed in pure bliss and you were really enjoying how you were both taking the time to become used to each other’s bodies and touch. Losing yourself in the feel of him, your hand rested at the front of his pants and you could tell he was hard already.

“Fuck,” he groaned, breaking the kiss apart as he felt your hand palming at his front. 

“This okay?” you asked innocently. You knew he had done stuff before even if he hadn’t had actual full on sex so you were trying to lead by his example, not wanting things to be so formal or awkward.

“It’s more than okay, baby. I’m just worried I won’t be able to last long if you keep at that,” he said laughing a little before continuing,”here how about I start to prep you a little, yeah?” He tugged at the drawstring of your matching lounge pants. 

You nodded but then felt embarrassed at the immense pooling you felt in your panties. 

“Wait, Satoru-“ you said as he undid the tie of the drawstring.

“Something wrong?” he asked with genuine concern.

“I’m just really wet down there, forewarning,” you said. 

He smirked at that.

“Good you’re supposed to. It’ll feel better for you that way, trust me,” he said. 

When he felt your body relax, he undid the knot now fully allowing for you to pull your pants down. You appreciated how he allowed you to do it yourself, letting you make the decision. Your pants fully discarded, you were exposed to him in the matching baby blue set you had chosen specifically for him. 

For Gojo, the curved shape of your ass and the soft supple skin of your exposed thighs were driving him crazy. 

“You’re perfect,” he told you. He positioned himself so he was on his knees in front of you. “I’m gonna try something, let me know if you want me to stop.” His hand went to your sex, cupping it briefly before moving the fabric of your underwear to the side so he could feel and see your pussy. 

“Satoru..” your breathing hitched, you weren’t sure why exactly you were calling his name but you knew you needed more of him. He seemed to understand. 

“Fuck-you’re soaking,” he exclaimed. His eyes were fixated on your pussy and he was biting his lip. Taking one finger, he pushed through the folds gaining entrance. 

You winced a little and he paused. 

“It’s okay, just getting used to it,” you said, relaxing your body to make it easier. You felt long his finger gain full access to you and the sensation of it being inside you felt interesting and new. Yes, you had explored and pleasured yourself before, but it was much different when someone else did it. His digit felt much more prominent. 

“Good girl, you’re so fucking good. I had brought lube in case we needed it but it seems like you have plenty of your own,” he praised, entranced by how you pooled around his finger, “let’s see if you can take another.” He took another long finger and put it inside of you next to the former, gently stretching you as he did so. Determined to make this a good experience for you, his free hand searched and easily found your clit, a bud behind the rose petal folds of your pussy. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned as you felt him stimulate your clit and begin to buckle his fingers inside of you at the same time. 

“Feels good?” he asked for feedback, though from the way your eyes rolled back in pleasure he was sure he knew. 

“So good, Satoru. How are you so good at this?” you asked, succumbing to moans as his free thumb stroked your clit. 

Truth was, he had spent his prep time reading up on female anatomy. Sure, he had messed around with women before but he was still a virgin and as a man he felt it fell on him to make the first time perfect for you. He had also watched some porn but when a lot of them seemed catered to men with unrealistic expectations and regard for the women he had turned to amateur couple porn and read erotica. 

Of course he wasn’t going to tell you any of that though, despite what you may have thought he also got flustered around you. 

“Gonna give you another,” he said, turned on at how putty-like you were becoming for him. The third finger didn’t go in as easily as the first two. “Shhh come on baby you can do it. Need you to take them, otherwise we can’t fuck.”

To help you relax, he inched up closer to you until his face was in front of yours, kissing you sloppily. Your hands went to his snowy hair, loving how soft it felt and earning you a moan from him. When the kiss broke apart, you felt more turned on. 

“Hold on to me if you need to,” he said, pushing the third finger all the way in. Your hands gripped his shoulders and you sighed feeling the fullness of his three long fingers inside of you. “Good girl, I knew you could do it.” He began to thrust his fingers inside of you, mimicking the action of what was to come. All the while his free thumb stroked your clit. 

Your moans became gurgle-like and you couldn’t believe how good he was making you feel from just fingers alone. 

“Satoru, I feel-“ 

“You’re close, baby I know. I can feel it from how your pussy is gripping around my fingers,” he said. Your toes curled and you felt your orgasm coming as he kept the steady tune of stimulation. 

“Ahhh..oh fuck,” you moaned, your words slurring as you hit your peak. 

He chuckled as you laid back, breathing heavily and trying to collect yourself. You watched him suck on one of the fingers he had put inside of you. 

“Want a taste?” he teased. 

You shook your head, still breathing hard. That was so good.. too good. You hadn’t even orgasmed that good on your own. 

“Satoru, promise me you’re a virgin too,” you said. 

His eyes lit up at that. 

“Was it that good? I promise I’m a virgin. I just read up on stuff. I want it to be good for you,” he said. His skin became rosy and you believed him, noticing his bashfulness. 

You watched as he walked over to the pink bag he had brought with him rummaging through it. 

“What are you doing?” you asked. 

“Getting a condom,” he replied. 

You had nearly forgotten about that. You remembered how good it had felt to feel all the ridges and skin of his fingers, suddenly you couldn’t think of anything worse than having that skin to skin contact blocked. 

“Wait Satoru, I changed my mind. We don’t have to use one,” you said. 

“Really?” he asked, excited. 

“I just want to feel all of you,” you said shyly. He came back over to you, bending down like before to kiss you. 

“Thank you for trusting me with that honor,” he said afterwards, his lips still lingering inches from yours. The intensity of his gaze and his proximity made you feel faint. 

“Shut up, Satoru,” you said giggling both from nerves and at how serious he sounded. 

“I mean it. I’ve meant every word of what I’ve told you. You’re special to me,” he said, then you felt him hook his thumbs underneath your bra, “let’s get you out of this pretty thing, yeah?” 

He undid your bra easily and you helped him remove it, placing it on the floor. Your underwear soon followed. 

For Gojo, it was everything he had ever fantasized about, having you laid bare before him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in awe but it was enough for you to hear. 

Laying there completely vulnerable to him, you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you thought you would have. You chalked that up to him having taken various measures to make you comfortable. 

He began to undo his pants, unzipping the front and pulling them down alongside his boxers to reveal his hard, long length. 

You gulped at seeing how big and thick he really was. It was also veiny and the head was plump and pink.That was supposed to go inside of you? 

“Don’t worry, baby. That’s why we prepped,” he said, seeming to read your thoughts. 

“It’s so big, Satoru,” you said astonished, but you supposed it made sense he was just tall and big in general. 

He seemed smug at that and came over to you again lining up in front of you. 

“You ready? Just relax, we’ll go nice and slow,” he said. 

“I’m ready,” you said. 

You felt a slightly brief discomfort as his tip fettered through your folds into the plush entrance. 

“Shh, how are you doing? Just relax like you did for my fingers,” he said gently, almost nurturing. 

This was so much different than a finger however, it was thicker and wider and to think this was only the tip. He shoved a little more then sighed, a laugh of relief falling from his lips as his full tip was in. 

“You feel really warm,” he said. He craved more of it, wanted his full length soaring inside of you already, but he knew in order for the sensation to feel good and be non invasive to you he had to take his time. 

As for you, you enjoyed this new feeling of the sensitive skin of his head soaking inside of you. 

“I want more, Satoru,” you whined, desperate to find out how his full length felt. 

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled at your mutual enthusiasm. With that, he gave you another, inch adoring the way your lips let out a delicate little ‘o’ as he did so. All the while you soaked him more and more as you grew more excited. 

Another inch, another moan, all until his full length was finally resting inside of you. 

You felt each unique ridge and curve of his penis and it felt amazing knowing you were the only one who had ever felt him this way. 

“Satoru, it feels so good,” you whispered. 

“You feel incredible too, like you were made for me,” he said, amazed and enthralled at how you fit perfectly around him. He bent down and kissed you passionately, still in this missionary position. The skin to skin contact with him felt divine, incredibly intimate as his chest smushed against your breasts. When the kiss broke apart he added: “To think it feels this good just to soak and I haven’t even started thrusting yet. I suppose I’ll start now, but please don’t hold it against me if I don’t last too long.” 

“It’s okay, Satoru,” you said, assuring him. After all, it was his first time as well, you wouldn’t possibly hold anything against him performance wise. 

With your reassurance, he began to thrust his length, giving you steady rhythmic strokes.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking warm,” he groaned. Never had he felt a pleasure this good. Your soft walls engulfed him in their warmth, the sensation could only be described as the same soothing feeling one got from standing near a fireplace. Your pussy was greedily clamping down on him and your bed had begun to squeak at the back and forth motion. 

“Yes Satoru oh yes give it to me,” you whined, your legs wrapped around his waist bringing him even closer still and your hands went to his back desperately clawing at him. 

“Fuck, don’t think I can last much longer even though I want to- ah oh you’re so fucking hot,” his voice sounded so animalistic as he was losing himself in the feel of it. 

You moaned as he continued to fuck himself into you, his length hitting your sensitive spots. 

“I’m close we never discussed it- where do you want me to finish?” he asked, voice pained as he tried to be considerate despite being completely out of his mind. “Baby, baby tell me where you want me to cum,” he continued, urgency in his voice when you didn’t answer him. 

“Inside, Satoru, I want it inside,” you replied at last, forming words out of your moans. 

“Ahhh fuck so good to me,” he praised. The sounds of wet skin slapping against each other, the bed spring creaking and your shared moans was enough to set him over the edge. 

His hot fluid shot into you and he collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you with his full weight. You stroked his hair as you both tried to catch your breathing. 

You weren’t a virgin anymore, you had sex with your best friend who you’ve been crushing on for so long. It was enough to make your head spin.

“Did you like it?” Gojo asked, lifting his head to look at you. His eyes were vulnerable and you could tell his mood relied on your answer.

Luckily, you had enjoyed yourself and could tell him just as much.

“It was perfect. You really made our first time so special, Satoru,” you said truthfully. 

“I wanna sleep here with you tonight. Would that be okay?” he asked. 

You couldn’t think of anything better than having him sleep between the sheets with you. It would add to the intimacy of it all. 

“Yes I’d like that,” you replied. 

“Cool,” he said. 

The two of you laid like that a little while longer. You traced shapes into the skin of his back and felt the rise and fall of his chest against yours. 

When he at last spoke again he said: “I don’t just want to be your first, I intend to be your one and only.” 

If your heart could smile you know it would at his words. You watched the wick of the candle drop the flames, an ever present reminder of the passion between you two. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

[kteezy997]

The Heart of a Bene Gesserit- Part Four//Paul Atreides//Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

Warnings: cursing, smut, threesome, f and m receiving oral sex

“As a Bene Gesserit, I feel that it is my duty to see how you are being treated here. But please trust that I have no ulterior motives. I’m not wholly certain of the conditions of the slave quarters, but I’d like to find out.”

“Well, the food is shit, they give you just enough water to stay alive after being out in the scorching desert all day, and the beds here are hard and cold, but other than that, it is rather pleasing.” the biting sarcasm from the youngest Harkonnen was palpable.

“Mm-hmm.” you nodded, “I will speak to the Emperor, he needs to be more generous to the men who mind his spice. What you have is not enough.”

“That is very honorable of you…”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n.” he said your name, smiling and giving you a glimpse of his teeth. “But I fear that your suggestions will fall upon deaf ears. I cannot blame Atreides, if our roles were reversed, I'd have him enslaved as well, or I'd have just killed him. Our families have held hatred for one another for centuries, you should already know that."

“But he shouldn’t hate you, Feyd. You were just a boy, the same as Paul, when his father was killed. You were not a conspirator against the Atreides.”

“I have to ask: why are you lending yourself to my cause? Is it because Atreides has rejected your advances? Has he refused to give you the heir you were sent to acquire?” his dark eyes narrowed down at you, putting you on the spot.

You shook your head, “How did you know about the mission?”

Feyd-Rautha shrugged, “People talk. We don’t have much down here besides talk of spice. But the slaves have learned much about you, y/n.”

“Hm.” you huffed, “Well, you may know that I never did advance on Paul. He is my friend.”

“Friend? An Emperor has no friends, only followers.” he knew this to be true, as he was almost Emperor himself.

“Paul and I knew each other as children on Caladan.”

His non-existent brows raised up, he blinked slowly, “Oh, a childhood crush, is it?” he smirked.

You looked down, "I do not wish to speak of this."

"I suppose he rejected you, and now you're bored, so you're after the next best thing-"

"Silence!" you used the Voice.

Feyd's eyes closed, the movement of his mouth ceased against his will. "I see you've mastered the Voice."

"I am Bene Gesserit, of course I have. They do not let you graduate without doing so."

"I can also see that this is a sensitive topic for you, so I'll change the subject." Feyd slowly walked over toward the shadow edge of the roof. "I have a request for you, since Atreides won't likely show me any kindnesses."

You were intrigued, but also worried at what he could have wanted from you. "What is your request?"

"Get me off-world, back to Geidi Prime. Somewhere I can hide out from the Emperor."

"Feyd, he would kill you if he even knew you asked me that." youj warned.

"Precisely. Which is why he would never know."

You sighed, "You have given me much to consider, but I should be leaving. I have a feeling we are being watched by one of the servants."

Feyd gave you a smirk, "Well darling, if I knew we were being watched, I would have given them a show."

........

You left Feyd-Rautha and the slaves' quarters, returning to your wing of the House. You felt a little bit exhausted after your conversation with the Harkonnen and all the thoughts of Paul's reaction. You just wanted to sleep. You couldn't believe how quickly your life had come to revolve around two men.

You found yourself wrestling with thoughts of them both. You loved Paul Atreides, but there was something charming and also forbidden about his cousin Feyd. Were you attracted to the anti-Paul?

You took an afternoon nap, and your dreams became increasingly indecipherable from reality. First, there was Paul, your sweet Paul, his rich, dark curls falling in his face. The look of tenderness on his face warmed you up from the inside out. Then, the smooth, naked skin of Feyd-Rautha, his piercing eyes sending chills all down your body.

In this dream, you were in bed. Were they, taking turns with you? Feyd was waiting patiently by the bed, while Paul was kissing you all over. You were naked and breathless, trembling, even.

Paul had moved his face between your legs, flicking his Fremen blue eyes up at you. He started to lap his tongue between your folds. But it seemed that Feyd was having a difficult time only watching. As Paul sucked at the tiny bundle above your opening, you felt the bed sink at your side.

Feyd placed his big hand on your head, smoothing your hair back. He traced his fingers along your face, trailing down your chin, your chest, all to cup your breast in his hand. You gasped as he pinched your nipple.

Paul nibbled and kissed your inner thighs and rubbed your clit with his fingers.

You noticed Feyd's other hand at his waistband, and he pulled his pants down. Your eyes met his pale, veiny cock as he brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth, obediently, inviting his length. You moistened him with your saliva, sucking as best as you could.

Paul was moving up your body, his lips traveling along your stomach. He too, cupped your breast. Each man held your breasts, and your nipples hardened against their palms.

Paul's face was now close to yours as you had Feyd's cock in your mouth. He watched you, adjusted his body between your legs. You could then feel the tip of his cock prodding at your wet entrance.

You were then in a horny daze as you were abruptly woken by a servant barging into your bedroom.

"Sorry to wake you, my lady, but it is time for dinner."

"Who gave you the right to barge into my room while I'm sleeping?" you barked, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Well, His Majesty, the Emperor, does, my lady."

You rolled your eyes, "Of course he does."

…….

That evening at dinner, you didn’t sit next to Paul, you didn’t talk to him, you didn’t even look at him. You wanted him to feel your absence, your neglect of him. He had been cold and rude toward you, so why should you warm up to him?

As you ate, you looked over at Gurney Halleck, sensing something about him. You were nearly positive you were being watched with Feyd-Rautha earlier. Gurney was behind it, you were certain. But why? Was it Gurney acting alone in his suspicion of you? Or did Paul put this into place?

As the meal ended, you made it a point to get up from your chair and simply head back to your room, without trading words or even a glance with Paul. No Bene Gesserit tricks, as you promised. You would get him to come to you, if he so wished, the natural way. Deprivation.

It was nary a moment after you closed your bedroom door before there was a knock. You knew who it was. You opened the door, “Paul.”

“Y/n.” said the Emperor. “Are you alright? I heard you spent the whole afternoon in your room. You did not come to council. Are you ill?”

“No, I am not ill. You should not bother yourself with worry about me, Paul Atreides. You have much more important duties.”

“You know you are important to me.” he said, resting his hand on the door frame. “You are my one true friend. As long as you are alive, I will care for you. That is all this is.”

“A true friend? Is that why you sent a spy for me?”

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake

[yaut-jaknowit]

So. Uihoy x Male Yautja (bottom) reader… 

(Okay maybe it’s like a bit Mr. Preg… AAHH..)

Just the reader and him not both getting mates bc it’s that time of the year, but they both hate each other so they try to make fun of one another (one of them actually secretly likes the other and you can choose who), even get into a small fight which later turns into them getting too touchy bc of the heat. Shit gets crazy, rough sex, Like absolutely DOG pounding, breeding, size difference. I’m begging.

Hate Until You're Knotted

Pairing: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x M!Yautja!Reader

Word Count: 3259

Summary: You loathe Uihoy. He's top of the chain. He can get any female he wants. You, a lowly new blooded, have to scavenge and fight for just the taste or smell of a female. What does Uihoy do with this honor? Wastes it. He comes to you, out of his way, to find you.

Author Note: Don’t worry, I also want to get railed by Uihoy too. This is before Vic and Uie met since they were in a relationship before meeting reader. Gonna be honest, I unusually don't write Yautja x Yautja stuff but fuck, I loved writing this.

Masterlist

Ao3

Heavy, thick pheromones ran rampant through the village. Clouding everyone’s judgement, turning hunt brothers against each other. All in the name of breeding, continuing the bloodline. Only the strongest survive in a world designed to maul and slaughter the weak.

Like many of your sex, you were unsuccessful of gaining the favor of a female. A young, less scared male compared to those that have bested you in spars to near death. Anything to prove their worth for a chance to breed. Here you were, nursing your wounds, away from the dense population. There were a few others, scattered about like you, licking their wounds. You had chosen a high tree to pull yourself to the near top. From here, you could keep an eye on the crowd in the main square of the village.

Neon green blood dripped from wounds gained in battle against fierce opponents. As much as you hated to admit it, they were better, deserved whoever choose them after defeating you. Yes, there’s always next year for the season but only Cetanu could only tell if you would make it. Life was life. Death was death. You don’t know if you’ll be there to greet the next season.

Through it all, you caught a whiff of a scent that caused your blood to boil. Uihoy. The older Yautja was… arrogant in his own ways. Rude in others. Downright irritating if you must say. The male wasn’t one to mess with often. He did stick out like a sore thumb. His sexuality something that wasn’t popular among the Yautja kind. It did not produce offspring.

It is not frowned upon but discouraged. Yautjas were strong, mighty, and hunters. If males or females copulated with their own sex, the birth rate would decrease. Death was already high, especially for those that are young, learning.

Not that you had anything against mating with the same sex. No. But Uihoy was an icon for the village and he wasted his talents, his seed on something that wouldn’t produce anything. You scowled. How does a male like him not take pride in breeding with the females who are willing? You have to fight for your right while many females request him by name.

The tree shook from added weight. Your claws dug into the bark from the slight disturbance. Your head whipped down to find the face you wanted to cave in so badly closing in. Your jaw dropped behind closed mandibles at the sight. What the pauk is he doing? He knows I’m up here. This was purposeful.

Uihoy stopped to perch on a branch a foot above you, on the other side of the thick tree. A look of passiveness barely readable on his face. Not cocky. He knew his limits, where he stood on the chain of power within the village. Intelligent but respectful. He was about a hundred years from being deemed an elder. A title you believed he wouldn’t take. Not with the way he moves with ease.

Blazing eyes flicked between the cuts that marred your skin. You saw the way his chest rise with a deep breath. “Don’t speak,” you snapped at him and began to close up a cut along your thigh. The deepest, longest of any others. It required to be burned closed. You held your tongue when pain stung as the laser worked.

The purple Yautja snorted airily. “And why should I listen to you?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you over a mandible while exposing his neck. Your eyes twitched at the sight before narrowing on form. The laser was forgotten about and drove off course. You snarled and turned off the damned thing. Your jaw and lower mandibles jerked at the unneeded pain. Yet, in the moment, you steel your facial expressions the best possible. Uihoy didn’t need to see you weak, weaker than he saw you as younger male.

A scoffed then light scratching from nails digging into bark filled your ears. Before you had a chance to take notice was happening, Uihoy hopped over onto your branch and knelt next to you. Uihoy snatched the laser from your hands. “Youngling, you must pay attention or else you risk injuring yourself more,” he scolded and began to work on the rest of the wound.

If you didn’t want the laser to stray from its path, you willed yourself not to jerk away from him. His touch was prominently warm on your thigh. The hand not holding the welder was resting right above the wound, close to the apex of your legs.

Instantly, you blamed the scents that filled the air for the feeling growing in your stomach, for the way your cock roused in its sheath. It was the pheromones that clouded your judgment. Your jaw was locked, throat closed to stop any sounds from escaping.

Then, his hand shifted higher. You had enough.

You shoved the bigger Yautja away from you then your feet were underneath you. A glare settled on Uihoy, ready pounce if it came to it.

Uihoy nearly slipped off of the branch he was perched on but easily corrected the unbalance. He stood a fair distance away from you with a large grin on his face, tongue flickering out to smell the air. C’jit. His head lowered just enough he stared from underneath his brows. C’jit.

A drop of freezing water dripped down the length of your spine, then Uihoy sprung. The older Yautja could move. Fast. Faster than you were expecting. His body slammed into yours. Claws dug into your shoulders as his weight throw you backwards. Off the edge of branch and heading towards the ground closing in quickly.

To save yourself from pain of a mild fall, you twisted your body and latched onto the nearest branch. Your shoulder jarred, nearly pulling out of the socket at the weight of not only you but Uihoy gripping onto you as well. You release a snarl and kicked out a knee at Uihoy. The male grunted yet took the hit. His talons dug into the flesh of your shoulders, deeper and drawing rivets of blood. You growled and attempted to throw him off. Your one handed grip was weakening.

Your other hand latched onto thick bark as you held on. The purple Yautja snickered and lifted himself up enough to hold onto the same branch. This was your opportunity to kick him, using his body as a spring board and land on another branch further down. The leaves rattled at your landing. You lowered yourself into a ready position as Uihoy lifted himself and crouched as well.

Cocky but not, Uihoy held an aura of confidence around him. His body was lax enough to let his guard down. He did have the high ground and left you at a disadvantage. You didn’t let him take any opportunities to attack though.

The trunk of the tree was used as a foothold to launched yourself high up, above Uihoy. His eyes watched your actions, body moving into a position to take anything you served.

The first punch of the day was thrown, right at Uihoy’s beautiful face; ready to send him flying off of the tree. But the male ducked and counterstruck with a fist straight to your stomach. It almost sent you careening off the edge once more. Your claws dug in to steady yourself once more.

He eyed you up and down, scanning for points of weaknesses. The same thing you returned for the shy moment given to the two of you before the giants clashed again. He came at you this time with claws. The skimmed acrossed your chest, drawing trickles of blood down your sweaty skin. You couldn’t help the keen before returning the same fire at him.

Unlike the purple Yautja, you weren’t as lucky to draw blood. Uihoy was pushing hard, fast, throwing things you hadn’t even trained about at you. At points, it was dizzying. Now, you were just trying not to fall off or perish to him. He had every right to do so. It wasn’t against the code.

Your foot takes a step back but the way the branch dips means this was the end. Anymore and you could meet the ground harshly. When Uihoy takes a swing at your face, you lower yourself down to a crouch. The fist flies milliseconds later over your head. You spring and pushed with all of your force backwards.

Midair, you arch your back and force all of your weight over yourself. Then, your feet touch down on a branch on a different tree. It wavers at the sudden, new weight added to it but held strong enough for you to back up away from the oncoming purple Yautja.

From one branch to other trees, the two of you dance for what felt like hours. Possibly could’ve been. You only come to release the overwhelming scent from the mating grounds is faint when Uihoy pins you to the trunk of a tree. A grunt surpasses your throat, eyes clued onto his burning ones. Filled with fire. A fire you didn’t know what sourced from.

A firm hand had found its way to your throat, encasing it and keeping you to the trunk. Instantly, your body went lax. Uihoy could snap your neck before you had a chance to even raise a hand.

It was a stern, mighty gasp that held you. Yet, you didn’t fear it. Anger filled your veins at the fact this pauk-de was taunting, teasing you like prey. You had little chance to win against. It was idiotic to challenge him in the first place. It won’t cost you your life. Not while that fire blazed in his orange eyes.

The male leaned in and let his breath fan over your features, eyes blinking slowly. Your scales prickled. His tongue flickered out and tasted upon your skin. His hand tightened. The other palmed along your hip, nails creating divots in the flesh there. “There has been something about that has intrigued me since I first laid eyes upon you,” Uihoy chitters lowly next to your ear. You shivered, throat bobbing from a heavy swallow.

That’s when you smelt it. Heavy, thick in the air yet sweet to draw you in. N’dui’se. You felt the blood in your body screeching to a halt and immediately rushing towards your core. Unsure, uncontrolled, your own musk entered the air. It swirled, combed with Uihoy’s as the Yautja grunt and pressed harder on your hip.

All of your muscles strained into action to pin the male down. Uihoy locked his own down and kept you there. The claws attacked to the hand around a vital part of your being dug into flesh. He released a chest rumbling bellow of a warning. He had you. You could only watch as the male leaned back enough to find your eyes.

The other limb skimmed down just a couple of inches then grabbed a fistful of cloth. Your waistband was promptly ripped off in one go and absentmindedly tossed to the side. Before you could even squeak something pathetic, warm flesh palmed at the wetting slit close to the apex of your thighs. Your head was thrown back, exposing your neck to the male before you. An action that could cost you your life if it was anyone else. Uihoy attacked.

Sharp, lethal teeth latched onto the flesh of your throat. Just enough pressure to warn you who had the cards in hand. Uihoy purred pleased and let his upper hand fall away rest on your hip. The other kept working away, causing more slick to build up.

His touch was driving you wild. He knew it. He was doing it on purpose. Your mandibles gritted together at the bubbling rage at him. Like a volcano with molten rock rising to the surface, ready to blow when the time was right. And you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of coaxing your cock out.

Gathering all of your energy, you shoved at Uihoy with everything you had. For once, you believed to caught the male off guard as he stumbled back, adding a fair amount of distance.

How wrong you were.

He was back on you in a split-second. Hands. Claws. Teeth. All seared across your scales until you were forced onto your front on the branch. Uihoy’s heavy weight draped over your back like shadows swallowing you whole. It was enough to keep you underneath him. A roaring bellow sounded from the Yautja as he made his claim vocal. “Ze-rei.” Fire. “You have fire that I want to consume.”

Despite Uihoy pinning you to the branch, you still wiggled and struggled. It wasn’t enough to throw the male off though.

All movements stopped at the feel of something blazing and wet resting against the tight ring of muscles behind your sack. Your eyes jerked wide open, head yanked up at the feeling. The head of your cock speared through your slit but didn’t move an inch more.

The body on top of you sat up. Hands grabbed at globes of your cheeks and spread them as far as possible. You squirmed this time uncomfortably at the fact he was putting you on display for him. Your claws dug into the bark underneath. “This is my new favorite sight,” Uihoy mumbled lowly to himself, a wide grin marking his face.

Then, the tip speared into you. Pain rocketed inside of you, eyes rolling back into their sockets at the feeling. Your mandibles flared open in a silent cry. But… you pushed back on Uihoy. More of his shaft disappeared inside of you, even if it was only an inch. Uihoy took the signal and thrusted his hips flush with your thighs.

Uihoy’s weight nearly collapsed on top of you as he struggled to stay upright. Something you never thought to see from the older Yautja. He tensed his muscles, talons prickling the skin along your cheeks and lower back. “I lied… this, this is my new favorite sight,” he growled before drawing his hips back.

The drag of each ridge and bump on the sides of his thick cock had you seeing stars already. All the way until just the tip was snug inside. Without warning, he forced his length back into you. The strength behind the thrust had you scrapping forward.

A low groan vibrated along Uihoy’s spine. “You’re so tight,” he stated like it was a fact. It was to be honest. You’ve never ventured outside to learn more about yourself. But after just the tiny taste, the littlest of drop from this, you’ll never be satisfied. “You’re going keep squeezing me out.” Uihoy bent at the waist. “Relax.” A hand placed next to your head while the other kept an even pressure on your shoulder blade. “I don’t know if you can even take my knot.”

Bark groaned as claws raked across the layer. You fantasized the thought of knotting another but never being knotted yourself. That ignited a hunger you never knew existed inside of you.

Fingers and claws ghosted down the length of your spine then diverted where your hip meets your thigh. Uihoy started a beginning pace to warm you up, to loosen up the muscles locked. Heat flared at the base of your spine as his touch palmed at the space below your slit. Your cock still barely peaking out. You weren’t going to give in easily. He had to take what he wanted.

The limb next to your head prevented you from slipping away from him, trapped under his thick body. His movements increased with speed but more importantly: harshness. Like any other male in the season, he was losing himself. His control slipping right of his fingers. There wasn’t a single thing he could do to stop it.

Thick finger grasped at what peaked out from between your legs. You gasped and rutted into the hand before a dark snarl had you stopping. The digits moved down where two rested apart from each other. They were in the space between your sack and slit, on either side of where your straining cock resided still inside of you. Uncomfortably. Very uncomfortably.

A single roll of his fingertips had you seeing stars. The rest of your length shot out like a plasma shot that it hurt at out fast it unsheathed. You choked out a harsh gasp and jerked back into the male controlling you. His hips went flush with yours while your muscles locked tight around his shaft. Uihoy roared. A hand flying to your hip while his claws dug into your flesh.

“Pauk!” he snarled into the tense air.

Something shifted in the air. You didn’t know what but could feel something change.

Uihoy reared his hips back just until the tip just sat inside. Without remorse, he bullied it back into you. This new pace was harsh, rough, uncaring. He was dominating you; taking what he wants and not caring about anything else. The only thing keeping you from sliding off the branch was the limb next to your head and his claws piercing your skin.

Your own talons dug into the bark, clawing away at the trees barrier for purchase. His thrusts are a driving force to reckon with. The ridges along his cock adding to the friction that winds you up. Pleasure growing at a rate you couldn’t fight, couldn’t stop if you wanted it.

His thick waist started to stutter, pace growing wary. The claws tearing into your flesh, drawing blood were pulled out. The pain in their wake was brushed off.

Between your trembling legs, your cock was painfully hard, weeping from the tip. As desperately as you wanted to reach underneath and touch yourself, Uihoy beat you to the punch.

A firm grip wrapped around your shaft. The pressure sent your eyes rolling into the back of your head, hips faltering on either to drive back or forward. Drool hung from your jaw. You were an utter mess of pre-cum, drool, and blood.

The grasp slipped down to your growing knot and squeezed. A vice grip. Stars exploded in your vision. You shattered like glass. Your cocked twitching wildly at each new pump of sperm staining the tree. His hand never relenting the pressure even as the overstimulation began to hurt.

He switched his other arm to wrap firmly around your torso and kept you flush to him. Snarls, growls, bellows poured from the male’s throat before he keened a high pitch. His hips slapped to yours. A pleasurable pain sprouted to life as you felt his knot inflate inside of you. The feeling completely foreign to you. You grunted and squirmed.

Uihoy snarled at you in warning. In reaction, you growled back at him.

Sharp teeth punctured the muscle that corded your shoulder. You choked on a gasped and went ridged underneath him. He had made his point and untangled his fangs from you. The Yautja leaned up, all he could do while tied to you.

“Look at that. You were able to take my knot,” he snarked down at you. You huffed. The energy once in your body was depleted for the moment. Yet, you could already feel your core filling the same need as before.

Pleasure shot through you like a plasma shot when his hand tugged at your sensitive cock. You bucked back at Uihoy to stop but the grip tightened. C’jit. And you were at his mercy.

[lovelytsunoda]

spill the wine // lance stroll

summary: honeymooning with the hutchence-strolls. capri will always hold a special place in y/n's heart.

pairing: lance stroll x hutchence!reader

part two of the welcome to wherever you are verse

author's note: i'm so glad that you guys loved the first part of the welcome to wherever you are verse! i was so excited to make this into a series, combining two of my current hyperfixations. i hope that the first part was enough to make some of you curious about the life and times of my favourite aussie rock band. for people who are looking to learn more, i recommend watching the channel seven drama 'never tear us apart', starring luke arnold as micheal hutchence. it's two episodes, each of them an hour and a half that takes a look into the rise and fall of inxs. arnold's protrayal of micheal was beautifully done (and i love alex williams as kirk).

y/n.hutchence just posted to her private story!

y/n.hutchence just posted (private)

island of capri, italy.

tagged: lancestroll

liked by lancestroll, officialinxs, yourbestie and 130 others.

y/n.hutchence as my father once said, 'spill the wine, kiss that girl."

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jonfarriss first of all those aren't the real words, and your father didn't actually write spill the wine

-> y/n.hutchence jon why do you have to be right all the time huh?

-> jonfarriss you also know that song is about being on five different kinds of illegal drugs?

-> andrewfarriss he's being annoying because he cares. make smart choices, kiddo!

-> y/n.hutchence andrew have you ever known me not to make the smart choice? i'm living the sober girlie lifestyle here

yourbestie looking good sunshine!!!remember to send me pics, I need to pretend I don’t work a nine to five!

lancestroll wow I can’t decide what’s more beautiful: the scenery or my wife (jokes on you guys, it’s my wife)

-> y/n.hutchence 🥺🥺

kirkpengilly nice to see alcatraz hasn’t changed

-> y/n.hutchence of course you hated it...you hate the beach, the sand, the water, the sun

-> kirkpengilly i do not

-> laynebeachley sweetie she is right.

lancestroll just added to his story

lancestroll just posted!

island of capri, italy

tagged: y/n.hutchence

liked by y.n/hutchence, kirkpengilly, astonmartinf1 and 4,567 others

lancestroll honeymooning with the hutchence-strolls

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astonmartinf1 are lemons supposed to be that big?

-> y/n.hutchence arent they awesome?

estebanocon why do you have to add 'with the hutchence-strolls' to everything?? 'easter with the hutchence-strolls' 'cook chicken gyros with the hutchence strolls' its EXHAUSTING. watch you guys make a sex tape and call it 'making babies with the hutchence-strolls'

-> kirkpengilly they'd better not! y/n i will resurrect your father and have him talk some sense into you

-> y/n.hutchence kirky calm down!! there is NO sex tape!

user y/n is so stunning! europe looks good on her

yourbestie i held my tongue at the wedding but she has been so fucking happy since you guys got married and if you hurt her i will give you HELL to PAY

-> lancestroll don't worry, she's in good hands. she's my reason to get up every morning, my reason to smile. i have never felt more alive than i do when she is next to me

garrygarybeers huh i actually think capri has gotten nicer since 1993

mickschumacher why do your legs look so long in the first picture

-> lancestroll thanks mick, now that you've pointed it out i can never unsee it smh

y/n.hutchence just posted (private)

liked by yourbestie, yourmom, lancestroll and 278 others

y/n.hutchence take my breath away

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lancestroll it was an honor to experience the grotto with you, my wife

-> y/n.hutchence the view was pretty, but you were prettier, my husband

yourbestie consider my mind BLOWN. things like these just exist in nature???

timfarriss now why didn't we go here when we were recording the album again? this place would have inspired the crap out of us. your dad would have loved it.

fernandoalonso ah yes, the grotto. fond memories of skinny dipping there

-> lancestroll ew why did you think i needed to know that

-> y/n.hutchence i second that

(next part)

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @clemswrld @httpiastri @cartierre @lorarri @thatsdemko @sidcrosbyspuck

[isawken]

disco elysium and transmasculinity:

i don't want to be this kind of animal anymore

there is no such thing as an inherently masculine trait, only those which we have culturally prescribed to be masculine. muscular, tall, strong, stoic. self-destructive. repressive. angry. unhinged. violent. addictive.

Disco Elysium markets itself with the tagline “what kind of cop are you?”. to put it bluntly: you get to choose what man you want to be. the actual gameplay mechanic is the game keeps track of your dialogue choices and, among other RPG things, neatly divvies them up into 4 main Cop Categories: Sorry Cop, Apocalypse Cop, Superstar Cop, Boring Cop. after some time establishing your identity you can branch off into 3 other copotypes: honor cop, art cop, and hobocop. These are all exactly what you think they would be.

a supremacist stands tall, immovable, shirtless, tattooed, in the way of one of your objectives, and if you let him he will tell you all the ways your body betrays your degeneracy. all the indulgences you make, with drugs and alcohol and sex, are allegedly clear as day written across your reddened swollen face. you are not a man. you are pathetic. a pair of women reassure his divine masculinity even when he admits his impotence. there’s no denying it: that’s one man of a man right there.

your former detective partner is an eternally scowling pockmark faced asshole. he approaches every interaction with you with a nice solid baseline of aggression. if you choose to put your points into something called “espirit de corps”, you get small vignettes of his previous actions. in one of them, it’s joked that you two are near-marital in your relationship. in some of them, he worries about you. muttering under his breath, mostly to himself, not unkindly. but he certainly never shows that to you face to face. 

two old men play pétanque outside every day by the sea. they have done this for years. they have known each other since they were kids. one is a fascist, the other a democratic socialst. if you’re nosy, you can go to the watchman’s post and find a picture of him, his socialist buddy, and a young woman whose attentions they supposedly both vied for. if you decide to become a fascist, the game gives you something more. your abilities Pain Threshold, Composure, Endurance, Volition, Conceptualization, and Inland Empire take turns showing you tiny slices of a truth viciously stamped beneath the heel of his brilliant boot. a love for his dear hated socialist. and when he dies, that socialist tells you the same. but they never told each other. never even came close. because how could you?

harry dubois wakes up face down ass up covered in piss and vomit and full of foggy confusion after drinking himself into amnesia. he's tall, he's got giant arms, a proud beer gut, and he's self-destructed himself into literal oblivion. this pitiful bastard doesn't even remember his own name. the first person he encounters outside of the hotel room in which he fucked himself up beyond his limbic system’s reach tells him at some point during his bingeful weekend she heard him scream, "i dont want to be this kind of animal anymore". you don’t know why you said this. but after a while you have some pretty good guesses.

i could talk forever about the unique circumstances of growing up as a girl in modern western society. but i have nothing interesting to say that hasn't already been said much more eloquently. learning to hate my body, learning to be afraid, learning that you need to want to be consumed. the eternal unpacking of all the issues a patriarchal society burdens you with. it never ends. but i've at least reached a point where i've done my base legwork. i know the oppression i've fought. it is nameable. i have labeled each and every patriarchal burden like a so many papers in a filing cabinet. few are going in the shredder, but at least they're known. next to that filing cabinet, i have a big pile of loose papers slowly sliding off a desk with the word "masculinity" in neon lights flickering above them. i want to dive into those papers. but the thought of it fills me with such apprehension. i've always wanted masculinity. i've purposefully adopted affectations to make myself more stereotypically masculine. most are hilariously shallow, and not exactly innovative. i smoked camels for 8 years. i drink my coffee black. i picked up a nice little alcohol habit. i've shoved down more feelings than i would ever willingly admit in the hopes to appear unbothered. I’ve told myself to “man the fuck up” my fair share of times. none of it got rid of my hips or my tits or my anxiety or my painfully high pitched voice. i’ve quit smoking. i sometimes think i should start again for many reasons, but one is in the hope that my voice will drop. just one octave. at least. it’s silly, i know. believe me. i know.

when harry drags his sorry ass out of that hotel room, he isn't free of his past. he has shadows in his mind reminding him of the things he's forgotten. shadows that still influence his views of masculinity. there is no way to truly escape the bitter leaden paint stuck to the inside of your mind so violently applied by our beloved patriarchal society. there is a hilarious dialogue option where, if you so choose, you can proclaim that you would never let anyone androgynous touch your hair. because the “others” (unnamed) would laugh at you. here we have a man who cant remember his own name, but he is certain that he absolutely cannot under any circumstances have a non-manly haircut for fear of mockery and rejection by his peers. how many coats of that leadened paint must have adhered to his poor, poor limbic system that even when he’s forgotten the concept of money, he still knows about the boundaries of masculinity.

 as harry tries to be a good person (or a fascist or a doom prophet or a disco superstar) he cannot really shake the pieces of himself that make him him. and he meets another bastion of masculinity, kim kitsuragi immeasurably measured, willful, and kind (for a cop), he helps you rediscover the world around you as you try to rewrite your tabula rasa'd self. he is firm, but nice. he lets you make your choices and mistakes. and he only stops supporting you when you start fucking up like, literally everything, and indulging in racism. naturally, there is a lot of fanart of them kissing, and yearning. both are beacons of masculinity, different sides of the same coin. where harry is physically imposing, kim is slight. where kim is calm cool and collected, harry will break down crying after a brief conversation with his necktie. but both are undeniably masculine. i mean, they’re cops after all. what more masculine profession is there?

as kind as kim is to you in your lowest possible state, it can be easy to overlook the ways in which he is not kind. when you tell him you think you really, seriously, need to go to the hospital, seriously kim i can't even remember my name i think i could have brain damage, kim responds with the equivalent of "walk it off" by encouraging you to start working on the case and see if that makes you feel better instead. it is in this light that you recognize which affectations of his are conscious posturing. his fitted jacket and trousers, matching the uniforms worn by air brigades in a past war. his careful collection of tools he keeps in his beloved kineema. his vast knowledge and care for the car itself. looked at in a certain different light- you know the one- you could see these traits being the result of a very careful construction. he found pieces of overt masculinity and decided to subsume them as a defense. a bolstering, a reinforcement of chosen masculinity.

there are so many different flavors of masculinity that the game offers you to experience and explore yourself. you decide whether to value them. you can follow in mister phenology’s footsteps and try to build yourself into a supremacist ideal. maybe that will make you happy. you can also chase after a barely-coded homosexual man, who makes you stutter in most available dialogue options. even if that may make you happy, you don’t get to pursue it. you can think for 20 hours about the "homosexual underground", but you can't join it yourself. you can however join fascism. interesting how harry is more susceptible to fascism than homosexuality. interesting to prod and poke at his masculine limits.

“what kind of cop are you” is a loaded question. harry is rebuilding himself from the ground up as a man. and how funny is it to learn that is inextricable from his profession.

what do you find inextricable from your gender? what of those traits make you happy? what of those traits make you want to throw your fucking shoe through a god damn window and punch the bathroom mirror and scream and scream and scream and scream?

i want to emerge from a hotel room, at my lowest point, and have the power to rebuild myself from scratch. i want a cool man who i maybe want to kiss guide me with a gentle yet firm hand. i want to have large arms, and a proud beer gut, and a stupid beard, and i want to destroy a hotel room and drink myself into a beautifully tragic state. i want to have non-political body hair. i want to get stared at for my gaudy tie and green snakeskin shoes instead of my tits. i want become a different kind of animal.

[mrs--edge]

Hi Mrs Edge and Tom. I'm fairly new to your blog but my husband and I are in a similar relationship just for the past year or so. It started after he cheated on me and I didn't feel I could trust him anymore. Long story short he ultimately volunteered to be put in a chastity cage with me as the keyholder, which was very weird to me at first but turns out it was also sort of his fantasy.

Like you and Tom this isn't part of a larger "dom-sub" relationship or other kinks. And I honestly didn't want to do it at first. But it has evolved to an interesting point where I have a lot of control over him bc his cock is permanently (?) locked away and useless to him. Mostly he goes down on me and fingers me now which is how I like it. I do like him occasionally to use a fake cock on me.

At first he tried to treat this as kind of a fetish thing where he would get off on me teasing him etc but I basically just didn't go along with that.

My strategy was to just act like his cock being locked up was a normal and permanent thing. I almost never mention his cock at all, as if it isn't there. And that's honestly the biggest turn on for me. If I want sex his cock never enters the equation. It's just a question of, is he going to go down on me or is he going to strap on his cock? We both know that he won't be cumming. Its almost like he no longer has a cock.

Unlike Tom my hubby still occasionally asks to be unlocked but I always say no. I do it very casually, almost in passing, to make it clear it's out of the question. I make cleaning him a very sanitized, ritual thing that has nothing to do with sex. The cage comes off, he's thoroughly cleaned and then it goes back on. I don't acknowledge his cock as even a sexual organ at all.

I do think this has had a psychological impact on him. He definitely has lost some of his swagger. He doesn't show interest in other women now bc there's nothing he can do about it. If he ever tried to hit on a woman the ultimate result would be her finding out he's locked up.

He's extremely attentive to me now. Maybe it's partly because he cheated on me and broke my heart but I do believe it's at least partly bc he sees that as a way to eventually get unlocked and be inside me again. I honestly don't see that happening and I tell him that bluntly.

Wow. There is so much going on here. On one hand it does seem like you and your husband have a similar lifestyle as we do with your husband permanently locked and the focus being on you and your pleasure. On the other hand it's that you got there from a place of pain and heartbreak, and that you keep him locked as punishment, instead of mutual love and enjoyment.

I've had messages from men claiming that men should be locked up to prevent cheating but from what I can see it just makes them more focused on their dicks than ever. I'm a little surprised that you managed to go along with his fetish as a way to fix things between you, but I'm glad to hear that you have managed to turn this into something that (hopefully!) will bring you to a better place.

My husband has told me a few times that he sometimes fantasizes that I keep him locked because he was "a bad husband" in some way, but honestly I hate even thinking that way. I like to think about him as having made a commitment to honor and serve me out of love and loyalty... like a knight pledging to his Queen. The punishment fantasy turns me right off.

The other thing I see is that your husband may only be attentive because he is enduring his punishment (which is why he keeps asking to be unlocked). How will you know when he is being attentive because he has truly become devoted to you?

I hope that the both of you will consider some kind of counseling to learn how to better communicate with each other. I'm sure you're still in pain and I will pray that you are able to take this and build a stronger marriage from it all.

[swampstew]

Roronoa Zoro, O-66 ~ Collaring

Summary: Headcanon list of what your encounter with Weretiger Zoro is like - and how the two of you learn to live with each other. Peacefully? Depends on the day.

Warnings: Spicy and suggestive but not straight smut, collaring kink, Zoro is a weretiger, reader is not described nor given pronouns. Minor violence against Zoro but its kinda deserved. Word Count: 571

Zoro as a Weretiger

You stumbled on to him because he got turned around in the woods where he had meant to hide and managed to wander into a populated area. During the Hunter Moon. It was a miracle that A.) he was a mature weretiger so he had a sliver of self-control and understanding his actions and B.) you had a toy gun that shot silver balls, which you used when he scared the living shit out of you when you were trying to ward off what you thought were raccoons. You were not expecting a hulking beast and shot with no questions asked. Bullseye, you got his left eye and knocked him out.

When dawn broke, Zoro had turned back into his human form. Naked, with an eye patch on his face, and a fuzzy green collar around his neck that was attached to an iron chain that was hammered into the ground. You had sat on the opposite side of the wall and watched him all night, including the transformation. You were in a state of emotions but rendered speechless when you saw his flaccid dick.

“Any chance of you letting me go?” he asked.

You shook your head, “Not until you answer every question flying through my mind. First things first, is your hair naturally green? I thought the dark was playing tricks on my eyes but you looked fucking green last night! A green tiger! What the fuck!”

After he explained that he was a Weretiger, which didn’t make you feel any better about the whole ordeal, he talked you into setting him free by letting him stay on your land. He’d take the shed out back and help you out, give you any protection you needed, and you could lock him in on full moons. Samurai’s honor. No funny business whatsoever.

That lasted one month.

He was a beast of a man with shredded muscles that he worked out religiously, he was strong as hell taking care of most of your chores while you tended to your job, he farmed your land, repaired anything you needed, and he was delightful to stare at with his good looks. He never really left the land due to how easily he got lost, forcing you to have to go out and find him. You threatened to put a bell on him and he didn’t exactly hate the idea.

After a month of lustful staring, he cornered you and asked you straight up. “Wanna fuck?”

“No.”

“No? The way you look at me says otherwise.”

“The full moon is tomorrow. I’m not sure I really trust you right now.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you, might be a little on edge because of it but I won’t turn mid-sex or anything. And I certainly wouldn’t fuck you on a full moon.”

You weren’t convinced but then he had a solution.

“That collar you had on me that first night? It was lined with silver. Use that.”

Turned out, Zoro was really into being collared. A lot. To the point where he wouldn’t take it off.

“It’s kinda cute. Like you think you dom me or something,” he smirked one day. “If it makes you feel safe, it is what it is. But don’t think for one second that it means you own me, little one.”

18 tiles to go, 19 calls made so far.

[jinxedmuse]

let me back in — joshua hong, 홍지수

🎵 i keep thinking, maybe if you let me back in (did i fall out of line when i called you?) we can make it better, breaking every habit. pull myself together, you could watch it happen (when i told you, "i’m fine," you were lied to) let it happen, let it happen.

in which: reader and joshua are in a confusing relationship. a constant tug of war over who can get each other more in love, and more heart broken.

authors note: hii! tysm for the new support ! wish i could hug u all :( it means sm & truly motivates me to keep writing! plz enjoy this angsty one shot i whipped up a few nights ago while missing shua & having this song on loop!! ><

tags/warnings: afab reader x non idol joshua, unhealthy relationship, fwb except they’re barely friends, extremely angsty, mutual pining but they’re both too hurt to realize. mentions of the word sex but no actual smut, just suggestive moments. discussion that may come across as ‘arguing’ but they’re just genuinely learning how to properly communicate for the first time since they met…

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

joshua’s phone rang at exactly 12:00 am on his birthday.

just as a stream of constant messages poured in, wishing him a happy 27th birthday. another added year signifying he was truly growing up, catching up to time.

the number calling was one he hated himself for recognizing. for engraving so deep within his mind that he could practically say it backwards.

he mentally cursed himself more for what he did next; picking up.

“joshuuuuu” the voice sang out, your voice. on the other end, almost fully overtaken by the sound of what seemed like a club in the background along with laughter from your friends.

“this.. this is way out of line.” he begrudged out. it was wrong, so wrong for you to be calling. even worse for him to be entertaining it.

yet, here he was and he felt oh so genuinely content that you remembered his birthday after almost a year with no contact. now listen, in his honorable defense, shua was many things; dumb? wasn’t one of them.

however, when it came to you? his acquaintance, old friend, ex, situationship, fling, lover, whatever the hell you wanted to call it. he was, no, the first step is accountability. he is, way too smitten for you to have anything such as common sense.

“i know. trust me, i know. it’s just old habits die hard, you know?” you slightly slurred with a melancholic tone. as if reminiscing the countless times in your knowing of each other that this almost exact conversation has happened.

“yeah, i know. so.. what is it tonight?” joshua asked. slightly hopeful that you had more in mind then a simple birthday phone call.

“i have something for you, let me come over.”

his heart practically raced out of his chest. he could already imagine a string of thoughts; possible scenarios that could occur. but he had to put on a front, at least try to resist.

even if it was just a bit.

“at what point are we going to have enough of each other? isn’t this tiring?” he asked, feigning an exasperated sigh.

more than anything in this world he wanted this constant cycle to end, but more than anything in the world he wanted you, craved you, just as much.

the question rang in your ears. i mean genuinely, just what were you two still doing? both in your mid to late twenties playing a constant game of back in forth, banter through the pain that left you both feeling lonely for what? the nostalgia of it all?

at what point would this tug of war finally be bearable?

maybe when it ended.

regardless, you ignored his question. refusing to let the buzz of tonight’s choice of alcohol wither away into the depths of such a question.

“is it still the same address birthday boy?”

there was silence. followed by what seemed to be him getting up.

“yes.” he timidly replied. too embarrassed to acknowledge the fact that your grip on him seemed to be getting stronger each year.

“good!” you exclaimed. getting your purse and slinging it onto your shoulder, grabbing a full bottle of sikhye before gesturing to your friends that you were leaving and would call them later.

“why’s that good?” he asked, retreating to lay back down on his couch.

“it’s only like a 20 minute walk from the club i’m at.” you said nonchalantly while double checking your map app.

“no need, i’ll order you a uber. wait out front.�� he replies. he then puts you on speaker and starts ordering the ride, wanting the quickest and most comfortable one that would bring you to him.

“why? i’m a fan of walking actually. i picked it up a few months ago. needed something to do to distract myself from you joshu.”

there was a pang in his heart that felt all too real. he hated when you guys weren’t on speaking terms and the fact that you could bring it up all so casually while he had difficulty even whispering your name to recount to his friends what happened this time.

“that’s great, i’m happy for you. but there’s no need to tonight.” and with that, the ride was purchased. uber black, all for you.

“why? a gentleman doesn’t let a lady walk alone? that’s certainly not coming from you i hope.” you mocked bitterly. trying to push away one of the many painful memories you’ve had since your entanglement with joshua.

“you never let me explain my point of view of that night.” he complained. the flash backs still all too real, as if they had happened just yesterday. a feeling of frustration and guilt making home in his heart.

the uber black suv pulled up to the side. a man coming out to open the back seat door for you as you tumbled forward, thanking him quickly. once you’re in, he closes the door and you focus of not getting car sickness as he departs.

there’s a twinge in your stomach that has you patting it gently. you lower your window and stick your head out slightly. the cool air of the night slowly waking you out of your drunken state.

there’s a few minutes of silence before joshua speaks up again.

“hello? y/n? you still there?” he asked, tone laced with worry.

the question made you laugh.

despite all that you two had went through. the unrequited high school love that soon turned to a torturous one. years of pining, unbelievable out burst of arguments, and some passion yet “casual sex” but you both knew all too well there was no such thing as ‘casual’ for you.

regardless, you were still here. on the way to his place at almost 1 am on his birthday.

“yeah. i’m still there.” you replied.

you both always joked that you were probably thriving soul mates in another universe. you guys read each others mind dangerously fast but it still took you by surprise when he immediately picked up on the heavy meaning behind your words.

“it’s okay. i’m still here too.” he answered. as if to let you know that you weren’t alone in this cruel yet daunting situation. because after all, it takes two to tango.

soon enough, the driver stopped in front of the towering condos. you get out, once again thanking him as you grab your stuff and try to pull yourself together.

what takes you by surprise is the fact that joshua is waiting for you outside. wearing all black, hair slicked back and phone still to his ear. a small smile appeared onto his face, he looked as handsome as ever.

it still made your heart race just as it did when you first realized you liked him all those years ago in high school.

you walked towards him, trying to remain in a straight line. the nerves of the alcohol no longer giving you the confidence which had led you here in the first place.

it isn’t until you’re a few feet closer to him that he starts walking forward to meet you.

you’d make a joke about his action and the symbolism it had in regard to your relationship (or truly lack-there-of) but it still hurt too fresh. was still too early.

“here. happy birthday” you said slightly shoving the sikhye into this arms. he hangs up the phone and takes it, holding it carefully.

“so, how’ve you been-“ he starts but you’re already walking way past him, making your way to his place which he left unlocked.

joshua’s not dumb. he knows you did it on purpose. small talk never having been your fortitude but it still hurt him.

you enter the condo, him following closely behind snd locking the door.

as you take off your shoes and set down your purse, you looked around. everything the same as the last time you were in here on your birthday, almost a year ago.

“i’ve missed you.” he says while setting down the sikhye on his marble counter top. the small lights on top illuminating him. he almost looked angelic.

he always knew just what to say to have you weak in the knees. it was infuriating.

“i’ve missed your nice ass place, do you always have the ac blasting like this?” you say as you flopped down onto his ridiculously soft beige couch. using one of the pillows to prop yourself up.

“the floors are heated so i like the cool air, even during winter” he comes up and sits beside you on the couch, observing you closely.

“well my bad mr.money man” it took everything in you to not physically roll your eyes. you weren’t actually annoyed and you knew shua wasn’t saying it to brag but it was frustrating how seemingly put together his life is.

aside from this rather “chaotic” ensemble, your life was actually pretty nice. yet you were always right behind him, a step behind like some loyal puppy.

and tonight, you had the urge to prove once and for all you weren’t just a puppy, you were an equal.

what you didn’t know was that he already saw you as one.

“come here” he says while patting his back, looking at you with eager yet cautious eyes.

you don’t verbally respond, just physically get up and do as instructed. straddling his lap.

his hands dig into your waist, holding you in place.

“explain yourself.”

“explain yourself.”

you both said it at the same time. it was eerie but earned a unanimous laugh.

“you first” you string out. one hand playing with the ends of his hair and the other just below his neck, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“look, y/n.. this isn’t just a one way street and we clearly remember things differently” he says blatantly. the grip he had on your waist loosening the more he spoke.

“just admit it.” you start, piercing into his soft brown eyes.

this would be much easier if he wasn’t so handsome.

“admit what?” he ask. hands trailing up and down your back, just how he used to back in uni.

“that i’ve had it worse, it hurt me harder. admit that you, hurt me way worse.” you demand, trying to ignore the ache in your throat.

joshua tilts his head back and let’s out a frustrated sigh.he looks back at you with something else in his eyes, lust.

he pulls you closer to him while pushing you down onto him. you look at him confused but he doesn’t speak yet, instead he starts pressing light, gentle kisses up your arm.

“did i complain when you started going out with that pathteic exuse of a man might i add, in uni just a less than a month after you confessed to me?” he ask peering up at you.

there was a slight pang in your heart. you remember it so clearly. after years of a seemingly unrequited love in high school, you confessed to him in uni.

hoping, praying, that it would help you get over joshua.

when he didn’t give an answer before mid terms, you tried moving on in another ways. getting with a guy that liked you way more than you liked him.

thinking back, it was definitely cruel but staying alone and seemingly rejected seemed worse.

he continues, both kissing your body and speaking. as if letting out years of pent up hurt in the air.

“did i ignore you after you rejected my confession at the end of the last semester? a week or so before my birthday? you ignored me sweetheart; even though i was the one rejected.”

this one struck a nerve.

a memory far too painful to be brought up. he goes up to kiss your collarbone but you back up, ultimately getting off him and sitting on the table in front of him.

“seriously joshua? are you really still acting confused as to why i rejected you then?” you ask fully bewildered. one eye brow slightly raised as you observe the man in front of you.

he leans forward and mocks your expression. daring you to state your reasoning after all these years.

you let out a dry laugh before crossing your arms.

alright then, your turn to straighten some things out tonight.

“joshua hong do not act oblivious to the fact that i have been pathetically in love with you since high school. i don’t know if it’s when you started sitting by me in class, or opening my drinks, or that time you shaded me from the sun while i was napping in p.e but i have been. plain and simple, okay?”

he starts to talk but you cut him off, determined to get your point through.

“foolish teen me thought i was special. until, i realized you probably sat next to me because your two friends sat in front of me, you open anyone’s drinks, and excetra excetra but either way, i made the dumb mistake of confessing my feelings for you in uni.”

you’re angry now, not at him but at how pathetic you must’ve seemed all these years.

he stays quiet, letting you take a breather before continuing.

“so yes. to get over you i started dating, having fun, doing anything to fix a mended heart of what i assumed was unrequited love because you gave me some ambiguous ass answer and what i needed in my life was not ambiguity, especially from you.”

you get up while taking, now pacing around his table trying to stop any tears that warned they would fall out if you looked at him any longer.

“then, a year into my relationship, on my relationship anniversary, you confess to me and crumbled down genuinely almost every ounce of self respect and happiness and i barley managed to scrape together to make my relationship work. i had to break up with him because how could it be fair to try and love someone else when a single confession, no, even just a mere look from you spiraled me back into you palm.”

joshua looks pained as he looks at you, getting up to come over to you but you stand firm on the other side of the table. moving sides any time he tries to approach you.

not afraid of him, never afraid of him.

afraid of the affect he has on you.

in a momentary lapse of weakness, a tear comes out and you immediately wipe it away.

“i love you. a lot more than you do me which is fine, i accepted that a long time ago but i will not be the girl who has these arguments with you once a year and then slips out in the morning after we’ve had sex. not again, i can’t.”

you didn’t even realize when but joshua was suddenly at your side, holding you gently and leasing you to sit back down on the couch next to him.

“y/n i’ve loved you a lot longer than you think, i swear it. and i’ve never once told you to leave in the mornings, trust me. i never sleep well because i wake up practically scorn when i see the spot you’re supposed to be in is empty. i get hurt a lot more easier than you think, it’s written all over my face when i miss you.”

his words practically ate you alive. if he had said all these years ago, even months, no even just last week you probably would’ve gone right back head over heels, full in.

you let out a coarse laugh. the ache in your throat from holding back your tears evident as ever and he realizes this, gently brushing back some hair behind your ears.

“you never told me to leave but never asked me to stay.” you murmur almost incoherent while staring down at your hands.

“mhm?” he hums, confused at the string of words you purposely rushed out.

“i said, you never told me to leave but you never asked me to stay.” you repeat, now looking at him directly. trying to read his eyes.

this, he couldn’t refute. and he knew it deep down as well.

after all those years of pining and watching from afar it still felt too real for him when you were suddenly in his bed for the first time.

you could’ve thought he was a teen who hadn’t had his first kiss yet. hands shaky, eyes nervous to meet yours, mind racing with thoughts at 100 miles per hour because that is how much of an affect you had on him.

he never admitted it though, failed the chance to and soon enough you mistakenly took his silence as a “hint” and slipped out every morning before the sun even rose.

it was his turn to tears to start falling but his hands felt too limp to even dry his eyes. so when you raise yours and wipe them away ever so gently, all he can do is cry into your hands.

“i’m sorry” he starts choking out.

“i really am so sorry. if i could do it all over again, if you just let me back in, i would. i would make it right. make a move faster, acknowledge my feelings earlier, not let you slip away so easily. i would tell you to stay. i want you, no, i need you to stay.” he rushes out, practically pleading at this point because God forbid he lets you out his life again.

but you both know it can’t happen. you’ve hurt each other far too much, have fallen dependent on each other for far too long.

it was unhealthy and you both knew knew it.

you firmly interlock your pink with his and stand up. he looks at your pinkies for a few more seconds before standing up after you.

you walk ahead, grabbing your purse and slipping on your shoes. your pinkies still loosely intertwined.

joshua wants to say something, he tries to on multiple accounts but every time he opens his mouth, tears brim his eyes again.

you unlock the door and slightly go outside, your pinkies barely still holding onto each other.

you stare at each other longingly, as if you both knew in your hearts that it would be for the last time.

you smile fondly, even after just crying he was still so handsome.

“same time next year?” he jokes

you let out a genuine laugh and he swore in another life he’d do anything to keep hearing it.

“i’m joking. you are never, ever, allowed in my “nice ass house” again.” he dead pans, while not so obviously trying to hide a small smile.

you knew it had to end here, at his door step, pinkies intertwined. it would’ve never worked, no matter how much you guys both wanted it.

“i’ll miss you, so much.” you say sincerely.

he knows this. “miss” was a massive understatement in his books. he leans forward, placing a gentle kiss in your lips which you kissed back but for once you don’t chase after his lips once he pulls away.

he places another light kiss on your temple, as he does so he pulls away his pinky and this action is the one that almost breaks you all over again.

a beat passes, you stare at each other with simultaneously far too much love and hurt to ever truly be strangers.

“i’ll miss you too. just as much.” he echoes. meaning every word.

and with that, for the first time since meeting him, you pulled yourself together and turn your back to him first.

you walk away first.

and he watches it happen before closing his door, for good.

[persephonewritessometimes]

Moon Song / part six: punisher

Summary: A peek into Y/N's and Hotch's relationship three years later.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x (AFAB) Reader

Word Count: 2445

Warnings: proposal, pregnancy, wedding, happy and in love!hotch&reader, brief mention of sex

Playlist: Link

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading! I have a little surprise that will be going up sometime soon (bonus chapter lmao because I can't get enough of moon song!hotch) Thank you for all the likes, comments, and reblogs, I see them all and I'm so grateful. <3

This work is meant for readers aged 18 and over. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Three years. Three years of therapy. Three years of working cases together. Three years of Hotch trying not to burst a blood vessel when officers attempted to ask me out, and I politely shut them down. Three years of co-parenting. And three years of learning how to communicate and love each other in a healthy way. It wasn’t easy, not one part of it, but it was worth it. Because we’re okay. Better than okay, actually. We made it out. Together. With minor casualties of course, but we fucking made it.

         Haley married Todd two years ago, and they welcomed a little girl named Emma about a year ago. Haley and I have become friends, she helped me learn what it’s like to be a mom and I go to her when I have questions about Jack and how to handle certain situations. She lets me babysit Emma too, and I’m obsessed with that little girl. It makes me wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t had a miscarriage.

         I’m getting ready to go out for dinner, and since JJ had hinted that I might want to look nice I slipped into a pretty sky-blue dress. Aaron is downstairs putting away the dishes, I can tell that because it’s louder than all get out. He tries to be gentle, but I think he just hates putting the dishes away, so he rushes to get them done as fast as possible. Since he’s preoccupied, I dig around in the under-the-sink cabinet, reaching for a box in the back. I rip open the pregnancy test, pee in a cup, and wait. I’d been feeling off lately, my period was a few days late, and I just wanted to make sure. A couple of minutes pass and I turn the test over.

         “AaRON?” My voice cracks as I shout his name.

         “Coming!” He shouts back and I hear him jog up the stairs. He pushes the door open and sees my hands shaking. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” I can hear the panic in his voice.

         “I’m pregnant,” I whisper, picking up the positive test on the counter and showing him. I watch him closely, as several emotions flash over his face and he’s trying to hold back a grin, always waiting for my reaction.

         “And how do you want me to feel about that? Whatever you want to do, I’m on board with you one hundred percent.”

         “I want this baby so fucking bad,” I say, starting to cry. “After the first one, I felt so lost. I thought I would never get pregnant again.” He grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly.

         “I was going to wait to do this until we got to dinner, but I think the universe is telling me to do it now.” I watch as he gets down on one knee, fishing a small box out of his pocket. I start to cry even harder.

         “Oh my god, you are not – what – I – “

         “Y/N Y/LN, will you do me the biggest honor of my life? Will you marry me?”

         “Yes! Oh my god yes, of course!” He slides the ring on my finger, gets up, and kisses me deeply, not seeming to mind that I can’t stop crying and my nose is running. We break apart and he rests his forehead on mine, a hand on my stomach.

         “Whatever happens, no matter what, I will be here for you, always. I’m never leaving. You are my heart; you are my home. I love you.”

         “I love you too,” I whisper thickly. He kisses my forehead, then bends down and kisses my abdomen. I laugh and the smile he shoots me is so bright I almost feel like I could fall over from the force of it.

         “Okay, so you have two options. The dinner we originally planned where there may be some familiar faces.” He winks at me, and I laugh again. “Or, we can call it a night, have some steamy sex, and watch a movie?”

         “Wow, that’s a hard choice.” I pause, then say, “Let’s go see our friends.” I take a step back to wipe my tears and blow my nose. “But I’m still expecting steamy sex later, regardless.” He laughs loudly and promises that he’ll live up to my request. I smooth my dress down as he dials someone on his phone.

         “JJ, change of plans. I may have already proposed so no need to be incognito.” He says, smiling at me.

         “Dammit!” We hear Reid shout in the background.

         “Oh, thank god, Reid’s insistence on a fake mustache has made him insufferable,” JJ says, chuckling.

         “We’re leaving in a few, see you then.” He says, hanging up the phone. “Are you okay?” He asks, looking me over.

         “Yeah, just a lot of big things at once,” I say with a soft smile.

         “Need a moment alone? I can get the car ready.”

         “If you wouldn’t mind,” I say.

         “Of course, pretty girl. I’ll be downstairs. I love you!” He retreats, softly closing the door behind him. I look at myself in the mirror, I look down at my stomach, there’s no visible difference, but I feel different.

         “What if I told you I feel like I know you, but we’ve never met?” I whisper down to my belly, smoothing my hands over it. I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes, happy tears, and I put my shoes on before joining Aaron in the garage.

We drive to my favorite Italian place around the corner. “You really pulled out all the stops, didn’t you?”

“Anything for the love of my life.” He says, squeezing my knee.

“Oh my god, you are so sappy!” I say, resting my hand over his.

“I can’t help it; you make me weak in the knees.” We pull up at the restaurant, and he parks the car. We walk inside to the team yelling “CONGRATULATIONS!” I laugh and show off my ring, Aaron’s hand resting on the small of my back.

“Can we please eat for the love of god? You guys took forever to get here.” Morgan groans.

“Watch how you talk about my fiancé, Morgan,” Hotch says, glaring at him. Morgan holds his hands up in mock defeat and we all take a seat at the table that had been prepared for us. Hotch is seated to my right, and JJ is to my left. I lean over to say something in JJ’s ear while the rest of the team talks loudly.

“I’m pregnant,” I say, loud enough so she can hear me but no one else can. Her head whips around so fast, eyes wide. I laugh and nod, and she grabs my hand.

“Congratulations, Y/N!” She says in my ear. I beam at her.

“Who knew that it would turn out this way three years ago?” I say, and she gives me a sly smile but says nothing. I wonder what she has up her sleeve.

-7 months later-

         The wedding is beautiful – everything I wanted it to be and more. It’s a pretty small wedding, we only wanted our closest friends and family there. My sister and her husband came, as well as my parents even though they were traveling abroad at the time. Haley and Todd came, and they kept an eye on Jack during the ceremony. I’m in love with the dress I picked out – it’s an off-white color and is loose in the belly – something I knew I would need. I’m waiting for my cue to walk down the aisle, and I smooth my hands over my bump, resting my hands underneath it.

         “You’re glowing,” JJ says. I asked her to be my Matron of Honor, needing someone with a level head to keep me from freaking out. “You have your vows?” I nod, pulling a piece of paper out from the bust area of my dress. She takes it from me, vowing to keep it safe until I need it. Reid walks in and says,

         “Beautiful as ever, Y/N. JJ they’re ready for us to walk down the aisle.” Spencer winks at me, and I smile, mouth suddenly dry. This is really happening. They walk down the aisle, and then my dad is there, offering me his arm and a smile.

         “Breathe. It’s going to be fine; I promise.” He whispers to me, right before we round the corner and walk down the aisle. I take a deep breath and look up, locking eyes with Aaron and he’s crying. I start silently crying, emotional both from the day and the pregnancy hormones coursing through my body. My dad shakes his hand and hands me over. Aaron kisses my forehead, then my belly, and takes my hand. When we get to the vows, Aaron goes first.

         “My beautiful, Y/N. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see this day. I am not the same person I was three and a half years ago. You have changed me irrevocably and for the better. I close my eyes every night and I dream that I can hold you.” He winks at me, a callback to the letter he sent me, and I laugh. “I never thought that I would get to hold you forever. I promise to always love you, to always put you first, and to always take a bullet for you.” Another wink. “I didn’t think I would get another chance with you, but time and time again, you have surprised me and taught me how to love myself. I can’t imagine doing life without you. I love you.” He wipes my tears, and JJ hands me my vows. My shaking hands unfold the paper, and now it’s my turn.

         “I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say in my vows, as you already know how I feel about you. Then I was afraid I would say too much, and then I wouldn’t know where to start, wouldn’t know when to stop. Everyone knows you’re the way to my heart. I hope that when people look at me, they see the love I have for you, the love I have for our family, and the love I have because of you. I loved you from the first moment we met, and I have loved you every moment since. I promise to never stop loving you, even when you insist on making dinner and burn something, even when you put the dishes away too fast and it sounds like a bull in a china shop, and even when you take a bullet for me. I love you so much that I didn’t even know how to put everything in words.” I fold my paper back up and look up at him, wiping his tears, and he kisses the back of my hand when he’s done. Rossi, who got ordained just for this moment, pronounces us husband and wife, and Aaron’s lips are on mine before Rossi can even finish his sentence. Everyone hollers as Hotch kisses me like we have no audience and when he finally pulls away, I'm breathless.

         The reception starts after we take pictures, and everyone cheers when we walk in. We share our first dance, then take a seat at our private table because I’m starving and could probably eat the whole buffet table at this point. Aaron gets us both a plate, my belly weighing heavy from being on my feet for a while, and I subtly slip my feet out of the flats I was wearing.

         “Eat slowly,” Aaron says, raising his eyebrows at me when he sets my plate down in front of me. I glare at him, but oblige him, nonetheless. He knows me better than I know myself sometimes. I watch the room as we eat, everyone is laughing and having fun, and I’m smiling watching them.

         “I can feel you staring at me, you know,” I say after a few minutes, turning to face Aaron.

         “What, can I not admire my beautiful wife?” I blush, suddenly shy. He leans in to kiss me and I go,

         “Oh my god you can’t kiss me, you’re married!” He pulls away and hisses,

         “Y/N that is not funny! I married to you now, dumbass.”

         “Yeah, I know, but it was funny to me,” I say grinning.

         “You’re evil.”

         “Oh, definitely,” I say, leaning in and kissing him.

         JJ gets up and taps a knife on her cup to get everyone’s attention.

         “Hello everyone, thank you for coming. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m JJ, one of Y/N’s and Hotch’s friends, and I just wanted to give a short speech. When you work with profilers all the time, you start to pick up on things. When Y/N first joined our team, we welcomed her with open arms, and she fit right in. Two weeks into Y/N being at the BAU, our dear friend Spencer Reid, made a one-off comment about Hotch’s body language whenever Y/N is in the room. Hotch, for being section chief, we expected you to be able to keep a secret a lot better.” He laughs, and she continues. “When we in turn looked at Y/N’s body language, the attraction between them was obvious. At that moment, we placed bets on if they would last or not and seeing as we’re at their wedding, I’m pleased to announce I won that bet. Not even our resident genius was certain that Y/N and Hotch would make it out together. I may not be a betting woman, but I’ll always bet on you, Y/N.” She winks at me, and I laugh. “Needless to say, I bought you guys a really nice gift with the money I won, so, you’re welcome!” Aaron and I both laugh at that. “All that being said, I’m thrilled that you two have each other. Everyone who looks at you sees the love you two share, and it’s a beautiful thing to see. Even if it’s hard to work with two people who are constantly swooning over each other. I love you guys.” She nods, and I get up and hug her.

         “Thank you,” I whisper in her ear, “For everything. We wouldn’t be here today if you hadn��t stuck by my side and supported me.” She just squeezes me tight.

         We dance the night away before my eyes start to shut for more than a split second. Aaron calls it a night, and everyone sends us off. He helps me into the car before getting into the driver’s seat.

         “Well, you’re stuck with me forever now, Mr. Hotchner.”

         “And I couldn’t be happier, Mrs. Hotchner.”

---

bonus chapter!

---

TAG LIST (want to be added? click here!): @helmihotchner @hausofwhores @stxlemate @heidss @justjoyceme @bxtchopolis @art-and-thoughts @morgthemagpie @rousethemouse @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-aaron-hotchner @sebastiansstanswhore

[electricshoebox]

writer interview ✍️

Tagged by @junemermaid, thank you so much my friend!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

42 apparently!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

662,511 😳

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All of these are Dorian/Iron Bull from Dragon Age: Inquisition.

How to Share a Bed Without Killing Each Other: a Love Story (5 chapters, Rated T)

Rivers in the Sand (Oneshot, Rated E)

a soft place to land (Oneshot, Rated E)

Always Good at Bad Ideas (Oneshot, Rated T)

Flashpoint (Oneshot, Rated E)

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Oh definitely I do! I know that it can be really difficult and intimidating to find the words to leave a comment and I just really want people to know how much they're appreciated. I also love getting to share thoughts and excitement and little behind the scenes things. It may take me a little time sometimes, but it's really important to me to respond.

I heard somewhere once that people think authors respond to artificially inflate their comment numbers. I don't know where that came from, or if there are authors out there that may do that, but I honestly don't even pay attention to that? I don't even really look at that number as a reader either. I just want commenters to know how much they've made my day!

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Man, I really had to think about this. I don't really have nearly any that are solely angst.

But I do have one that's left open-ended in a pretty angsty place. My Dragon Age 2 rarepair fic for Merrill/Orana, Counting the Cost. It's set right after the final confrontation with Merrill's clan, with Orana having to learn via that news that Merrill uses blood magic.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Honestly, most of my fics have "happy" endings, or at least hopeful ones. I just have a hard time not leaving things on a good note. It's hard to pick one that stands out more than others. I think, though, that The Eye of the Storm will have this honor once I finish it (if that's encouraging to anyone 😊).

7. Do you write crossovers?

Echoing June here, I've written a fusion fic before. I basically took the plot of the movie Inception and adapted it to a version of Dragon Age: Inquisition set in a future version of Thedas (In the Shadow of Dreams).

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I think I remember getting a weirdly critical comment once but I don't think I've ever gotten direct hate. I mostly write in quiet fandom corners these days, I'd be pretty surprised if someone bothered.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh definitely! I've written all kinds. I've written some centered on specific kinks (like waxplay in a soft place to land), and some that were hinted at in canon that I wanted to explore (like Flashpoint). But the majority of the time, it's really just a part of the larger story, a vehicle for character analysis or communication. In A Line in the Sand, for example, it was a major character turning point. Sex is just such an interesting way to explore a character or a relationship. It's a level of intimacy and vulnerability that can really reveal so much.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, but I have had some ideas taken in the past. Nothing I'd make a big deal about, and I don't always mind when things like that kind of blossom into fanon, but I do wish people would ask first. I don't always think it's intentional or conscious, though, so again, no reason to say anything.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Still blows me away someone wanted to. Both Wishing Stars and No Patron Saint of Silent Restraint (both Dorian/Bull) were translated to Mandarin.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. My writing process just isn't very conducive to collaboration. It's unpredictable and scattered as to when I get writing done and get motivation. I'm also extremely particular about how my writing sounds and fits together, and I think I would just have a lot of trouble trying to mesh that with another writer.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

That's such a hard question. I think it's always going to be whatever pair I'm currently writing for. I just have phases with ships where they're all-consuming for awhile, and then I finally sort of move on, even if they still have a special place in my heart.

That being said, Deacon/MacCready has meant so much to me because it's not only the first pair I finished a novel for, I'm now finishing the second one. This pair inspired me again after a long desert of writing despair, and it just brought so much good into my life. It's really hard to top that.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

There are two that come to mind. One was for Red Dead Redemption 2, a meditation on grief set in the epilogue, from Charles' perspective. I really had a lot of ideas for it and a lot of things I wanted to explore.

The other is Uprising. This was my retelling of Dragon Age 2 inspired by David Gaider's comment that Velanna was initially considered as Justice's vehicle instead of Anders. I wanted to re-imagine the story that way. So Velanna is the Justice character and Anders stays with the Grey Wardens. I just wanted to explore what could change, and what ways the story would have been different. I got through Act 1, but lost steam. It was also my first attempt at a novel-length fic, and I think it had potential.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do a pretty decent job of setting a scene. I see a lot of scenes in my head play out like they're movie scenes, so I try to describe them in kind, and make them fairly easy to visualize. I'm also really aware of a character's physicality. Like what they're doing with their hands, posture, where they're looking, how they're shifting their feet, etc. And I do feel like I have a good handle on character voice, or at least I work really hard to make the characters not just sound like but feel like themselves, and make decisions or take actions that still feel like things they would do in canon. I feel pretty confident in my character banter, too. I feel most at home writing dialogue where people are bantering and teasing and sniping at each other.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have so many crutch words and phrases. I have to make such a conscious effort not to use them over and over, and even then I'll go back later and find where I've used the same term or word back to back. I also struggle a lot with action scenes. Writing ALITS and TEOTS has done a lot to work that muscle and I think I've improved, but it's not at all second nature. Trying to make them interesting and tense while still making sense is a real challenge for me and it takes me a long time. And I don't feel very confident in creating my own characters. I like writing for established characters because all the interesting and cool bits are already there. Making my own original characters equally as exciting and unique and intriguing is so much harder for me.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Going to just quote June directly here: "it can be used to good effect but it's best used sparingly. I would generally always prefer that plot-relevant or important dialogue were simply, 'This is the murder weapon,' she said in French. Don't withhold information or emotional impact for the sake of showing off."

She said it perfectly. And I'll add that it's often very jarring and even pulls me out of the story a lot of the time, unless it's written by someone fluent. It's very difficult to pull it off naturally otherwise, and that is very obvious to your readers.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Technically, Sailor Moon, though I only shared it with my friends. The first things I put on the internet were for Lord of the Rings.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Hmm. It would be fun to write something for Baldur's Gate 3, but I'm not sure I can get past some of my mental blocks with fandom there. I would like to play around with Barbara/Lucy for Fallout 4.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

It's hard not to say A Line in the Sand. It's just very, very special to me for so many reasons. I've talked about it a lot so I won't go on, but yeah. It's hard to believe I'll have another experience with writing quite like that one.

-

Tagging (no pressure as always) — @bardic-inspo, @totally-not-deacon, @mercurymiscellany, @amanitajack, @just-another-wasteland-merc

[citrusses]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much for the tags @maesterchill @basicallyahedgehog and @tackytigerfic, I loved reading your answers (here and here and here). I feel like an imposter filling this out (I just started publishing fics in August!) but here we go! Answers below the cut

How many works do you have on ao3?

3

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

~42K

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter, specifically drarry (with one guest appearance by a very sad, sexy Sirius).

4.. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The most kudos-ed is The Roommates*, which is a Sirius/Draco + Drarry endgame little piece of filth. My Suds fic, Löyly, has the second most kudos, followed by the rowing AU WIP, Our Objective Remains Unchanged. (*PS fellow americans who probably already know this: roommates does not have quite the same meaning in the UK as it does in the US, oops!)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I am so honored by every comment I have gotten. I also love leaving comments, though I never do so with the expectation of a response. I think comments are such a lovely way to extend the joy of the fic as a reader. If a writer wants to respond I love it, if not, that doesn't detract from the joy of commenting!

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Nothing yet, I really love an unhappy/ambiguous ending so I hope I can write more of that in the future.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Only two of my published fics HAVE endings... but Löyly is probably the softest, though I actually think the ending of Roommates is quite sweet.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet :)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

So far everything I've written is rated E. I surprised myself with 3 E fics right out the gate. I get very stressed that my smut is corny. In my two shorter fics the sex is very much driving the plot—non-explicit versions would be inherently different stories. In OORU I think it's more about the ways the characters do and don’t understand each other, and how that manifests in all their interactions, physical and otherwise, which didn’t need to be E-rated to work, but that’s how I ended up writing it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I haven't yet. I can't think of anything I would want to write as a crossover but never say never.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet! Another thing that seems like a cool challenge. I could see myself enjoying co-writing a lot (I love talking about fics/ideas with people), but I also am so self-conscious about my own writing that I feel like it would be very hard for me to overcome those insecurities enough to write with someone else.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Drarry forever. Enemies to lovers will always be my favorite dynamic, so I came into Drarry jazzed about the ship, but the creativity of this fandom, the talent of the authors, and the fact that I have read so many iterations of this pairing and still am consistently astounded by the complexity and originality of these fics -- what else could compare?

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

The first thing I started writing in this iteration of my fandom life was a time travel fic where Harry is a disillusioned, socially-scorned ministry underling and he and Draco have to work together to stop an apocalypse that they learn about from a time traveler from the future. I have like 20K written and a bunch of it that I really like, but I just don't know if I'll ever have the motivation to return to it. It needs to be quite plotty and I struggle with that.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I find writing dialogue comes more easily.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

When I read I don't really visualize what I'm reading, it's more like I really feel the emotions of the writing. When there's a particularly beautiful descriptive passage in writing I really appreciate that, but more for the craft of the sentence. Because that's how I read, I tend to skip illustrative prose in my own writing, and I think that is a pretty glaring weakness. I am trying to work on it! And then also plot. PLOT.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I haven't done much of it -- Draco quotes a few Finnish words in Löyly, but he's not meant to be fluent (so perhaps he’s not even getting the words right) and there's either context to make clear what he's trying to say or it doesn’t matter if he’s understood (because Harry is so horny that he can’t even hear). I think it's very fun when writers play with polyglotism (?) in fics, though I also think it's quite challenging to do! I also love when things are hidden from the characters/reader in fic and language can be a good way to do that.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I honestly don't know -- I wrote a lot of "fic" for myself as a kid that I never even put on the internet. My old fanfiction.net account of stuff I actually published is still up and I could't take it down if I wanted to, so that's... out there.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Not to cheat but I really think I haven't written it yet. I love all my fics, and each of them was a very different and rewarding experience to write, but I do feel l haven't yet written a fic that, as tacky said in their post, is exactly the fic I wanted it to be. Here's hoping that happens!

Tagging @nv-md @sweet-s0rr0w @wolfpants @thehoneybeet @mintawasalreadytaken @kittycargo and anyone else who hasn’t done this yet!

[thisnightissparkling089]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you to Lana (@cfr749) and Sarah (@queseraone) for tagging me! If you haven't read their works yet, you are seriously missing out!!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

19

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

124,341

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Solely The Rookie!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I won't

The morning after

Bad Habit

Only Love Can Hurt Like This

Brave

5. Do you respond to comments?

I absolutely do! It's truly so exciting when someone takes the time to comment on my works. I want to share my appreciation and be able to interact with the fandom.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Honestly, I don't think any of my fics have angsty endings. I try to end each story with at least so semblance of hope or happiness.

But I guess 'I can't love you in the dark' was pretty open ended and a tad angsty.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably (A not so) Cruel Summer because that fic ends with Lucy having met Taylor Swift, Tim taking the time to learn her favorite song so he can sing it to her as Taylor plays it on stage, and her getting 4 tickets to The Era's Tour, so...

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I don't! And I'm so beyond grateful for that. This fandom has been overwhelmingly kind and supportive of each other. Getting so much positive feedback on my first story is what gave me the confidence to keep writing, and I'm forever grateful for that.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Uhh...the smutty kind?😅 Yes, I do, but I don't really have a kind. I just write the sex scene as I see fit.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No. Truly no offense to anyone who does or enjoys these, they've just never been my thing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

No, but I would be honored.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I'm open to it!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Chenford🥰

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'll never say never, but the updates for Something New are pretty slow going at this point.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I hope dialogue and my ability to add humor where it's needed.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

My confidence and desire for my work to be perfect, and the frustration I feel when it isn't.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think it's perfectly fine, but I'm not multi lingual enough to attempt it myself.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Aging myself here, but The OC.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Probably Be My Lover because it was so out of pocket and so much fun to write😊

Thanks, ladies! Tagging @theawkwardanglophile @mamadoc @chenfordspiral and @sisterofficerlucychen

[spurious]

fic writer 20 questions

I was tagged by @alienfuckeronmain & @nimuetheseawitch to do this one!

How many works do you have on AO3? 108. I need to add some ficlets to my collection but I've been slacking a bit on that, so.

What’s your total AO3 word count? 274,716

What fandoms do you write for? Star! Gate! At! Lan! Tis! The hyperfixation is strong ok. It's the thing that shook loose my half-decade dormant desire and ability to write, so. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. Twenty Questions, 248 kudos 2. Ink and Wings, 221 kudos 3. Five Times Rodney (and John) Visit the Millers, 190 kudos 4. Solitary in a Wide Flat Space, 163 kudos 5. Abercrombie & Rodney, 151 kudos

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I really try to!!! One of the things that was not good about posting all my ficlets onto AO3 in quick succession was ending up with more comments than I could handle, so now I have a...backlog. Getting comments makes me feel so good though, and I just...want to honor the effort made with some of my own in return? Idk, I've talked about this a fair bit in a handful of posts but I'm just really not used to the amount of interaction I get in SGA fandom and I still feel.......very blessed lmao. Bleh sincerity on main how gross

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? We Are Standing On the Edge, a Jin/Kame fic about a road trip and the apocalypse which I wrote for @merionettes in a fic exchange in 2010.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics either have happy endings or implied happy endings? I like making good things happen to the characters I love so much. Sometimes after making bad things happen to them, but. At any rate, O I Think We Should Be Brethren is my personal happiest ending because of how long and hard a journey it is to get there.

Do you get hate on fics? I got a hate comment once, on the (in)famous Kanjani Cannibalism Fic.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Do I ever! I like to write kinky sex as a means of exploring and facilitating vulnerability. I also like to write blowjobs.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I've never written a crossover! ..............I don't think, at least.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I am aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! A couple of my Johnny's fics have been translated into Russian and Chinese.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not to completion.

What’s your all time favorite ship? Yokohina, Sakura/Syaoran, McShep...don't make me choose between my children like this??? Sakura/Syaoran literally invented romance for my teenage self, like I am not kidding at how formative of a ship that was for me in my life. Also why I started learning Japanese, so. Yokohina will forever be beloved to me in the same way that Kanjani8 will forever be beloved to me, in a way that is (literally) tattooed into my flesh, in a way that influenced my life massively, in so many aspects. I will never not be thirsty for the two of them saying weirdly romantic things about each other in public forums, for them being the solid foundation upon which their group is built. For Yoko being a pigtail-pulling twelve year old boy towards Hina even as they're in their mid-forties. AND THEN THERE'S FUCKING MCSHEP. A ship that I knew about when it was popular and brushed off as an Any Two White Guys, Migratory Slash Fandom Thing. A ship that, when my wife and I started watching SGA, we said "haha wouldn't it be so funny if we ended up being all in on mcshep?" A ship that resonates in my heart in the most bizarrely intense way and shook loose the desire to write and create from its atrophied place in the back of my head. I love them. I hate them. They're perfect.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have about 25k of a later-years yokohina friends to FWB to lovers fic that I wish I could finish but the McShep brainrot is.........so strong. On the other hand, never say never?

What are your writing strengths? haha so much harder to answer this than weaknesses!!!!!!!!!!!! I think I can write good funny dialogue, which is amazing to me because when I started writing my dialogue was horrendous, just absolutely awful and stilted and I hated writing it so much! like it was a running joke between me and my best friend at the time that I could not write anything that sounded even remotely natural or like real human speech. guess that shows that practice makes perfect or whatever? idk.

What are your writing weaknesses? endings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ensemble casts/scenes with more than two people in them. plots more complex than simple romantic contrivance.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? nah. It always feels a bit fanfiction.net anime fandom to me?

First fandom you wrote for? speaking of fanfiction.net anime fandom....I wrote Sakura/Syaoran angstfic into a notebook when I was 13. The first things that I actually shared with other people were either Harry Potter or the fics I wrote about the boys at my church who were just unnecessarily homoerotic with each other in the way that only teenage church boys can be (iykyk)

Favorite fic you’ve written? guess. 🙃

Tagging: @sga-owns-my-soul @stargayatlantis @hearteyesmcgarrett @texasdreamer01