then i clicked my heels and walked away

Mistress - Soryu Oh

Set somewhere between the middle of season 1 and end of season 2. Just a teasing; angsty, partially smutty fic. Nothing serious. ;) Enjoy.

I hadn’t seen Soryu in close to six weeks - for business reasons or some twisted lie along the line of that he’d mentioned last minute; but I could clearly hear his footsteps pacing through the hotel lobby behind me - each click of his heels as one foot came down briskly in front of the other causing my mouth to go dry. It wasn’t half obvious at this instant reaction that I missed him - mind, body and soul. A knot in my throat tightened uncomfortably as I muttered a quick thank you beneath my breath and took the spare master key from the concierge at the front desk; slipping the swipe card into my chest pocket and swivelled on my toes, walking away with a mix of shyness and curiosity pulsing through my veins. Waiting with a small crowd for an elevator to arrive at the ground floor and slide open; I manage to catch a hint of his signature musky scent as he gets closer - my eyes fluttering shut as I consciously try to control my breath; a barely there sweat creeps across the inner of my palms and forehead.

If there weren’t other people around us I could be confident that something would have already happened right there, right then yet between us no words are said. I can picture it now, I’d have his tie wrapped around my fingertips tightly to pull him in close - to initiate an intimacy that I longed for; would have happily even begged for. Licking my dry lips once over to soften them; I could taste an almost hunger painted on them which I knew for him - was to also exist. His dark eyes glanced sideways in my direction as we stood side by side in silence; his gaze hovering over my body, over my curves which I was aware this uniform did nothing to accentuate. Pushing my hair lazily all over one shoulder and letting my own soft, gentle fingertips trace down the side of my exposed neck, the way Soryu adjusted his posture told me that he wanted nothing more than to press me up against an elevator wall; push the emergency button to keep us captive between floors and have his way with me yet for the company we had - an audience so to speak; we both knew this wouldn’t be an option.

Adjusting my stockings through my skirt and playing with my bra strap teasingly through my shirt I heard a low, needy growl that escaped from deep within his chest - a sound so subtle which I knew was reserved wholly for just me. Soryu slipped his hands deep into his pants pockets and it was then in a split second that I knew I was having my desired effect on him. Between the ground floor and the 23rd that I had been working on all afternoon people got on and people stepped off - lifting my head to count the green digital numbers which added up as we travelled floor by floor; a smile crossed my lips as I saw the special number appear and pushed my way through the crowd as the doors promptly opened.

Pacing down the hall lined with suite door after suite door, I could hear Soryu walking a few steps behind me yet we still kept our silence; still didn’t bother saying a word. A feeling of anticipation begins to curdle in the pit of my stomach; I can feel a hard blush sweep across the apples of my cheeks. Pulling the swipe card out of my pocket and sliding it through the security reader; I pull the maid trolley I’d left out in the hall through with me into the room and place a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the exterior handle of the door which earns a chuckle from the mobster as he wanders through; closing the door to lock us in.

I take my time and liberty in strutting over to the king sized bed in the middle of the suite; glancing over my shoulder only once as I unbutton my shirt. He stands silent; just waiting - just watching, wanting to pounce but keeping his cool. He cocks his head to one side and waits for me - reserved to see what I’m going to do next and just as I’m about to step out of my heels which I’ve been wearing for hours; he shakes his head, clicks his tongue and with a single look; tells me that that is not necessary - that he’d prefer them on.

“I thought you weren’t a fan of heels Mr Oh”, I announce with a smirk, I can see him getting hard; I watch as he swallows harshly; adams apple bopping up and down in his throat.

“I’m a fan of anything when it comes to you Ms ____.” His voice is low, lower than that growl on the elevator and it prompts me to keep things moving forward; bending down slightly to slip my hands beneath my skirt I shimmy out of my lacy underwear; a dark navy set of panties which perfectly match the bra he’s had his eyes on for a while now and toss them across the room for him to catch; the material slipping into his jacket pocket. That’s all he needs as a yes; as a welcome; as a signal to not bother holding back.

Quicker than he was pacing behind me in the lobby; Soryu is over to where I’m standing within a split second - hands on my waist, at my shoulders, around my back, snaking through my hair, tender around my neck and searching for anywhere he hasn’t yet had the pleasure to touch as our lips meet; soft, slow, turning hungry, aggressive and forceful as his tongue darts into my mouth, coaxing my own to play a game of twists and turns as I struggle for air and try to get some between gasps and moans. His hands run down to my hips; get comfortable at the curve of my ass and the simple command of 'jump’ has me doing everything he wants me to as I’m picked up; held up; turned around - legs wrapping around him before he pushes me up against a wall in the corner of the room. Arching my back and head thrown to one side he’s adamant on leaving a pepper line of tiny, tiny ownership marks on my shoulders and down across my chest. I whimper at the detail of his lips - how they quiver against my skin; how he breaks away and lets me hold his face tenderly in my hands and they slowly tremble - a lust in his eyes which is to die for.

Loosening his tie; it doesn’t take much to tear his shirt open - buttons popping; nails clawing at his chest to leave scratches that will be there for days that only he will know of and see. With a strong hold on my jaw, Soryu manoeuvres me so that I’m looking straight at him; his grip loosening around my waist, it’s a quick shuffle of steps and before I know it, I’m tossed straight down onto the bed.

Half sitting up, I’m forced back down as he fights off his jacket and gets comfortable between my legs; lips cursing across my bare skin - my skirt pulled down and thrown across the suite as I try to kick my heels off the bed.

“Keep them on..”, he whispers as a near almost secret and I can’t respond as a kiss seals my lips shut. It’s harder, needier, more ravaging, less discrete; more desperate than before. Kissing the tops of my breasts to force my back to arch; he slips a hand beneath me; playing with the clasp at the back and sets them free; lacy material quick to find its own home temporarily on the floor. Taking the nipples gently between his teeth; it’s a mixture of a suck and bite motion which has me so close to being thrown over the edge. So close to wanting to just scream and pant and beg and long for more. I’d almost forgotten how perfect intimacy was. Hands trailing down his still half shirt clad chest; my fingers are eager to unbuckle his belt; to pull down his zipper; to palm at his cock hidden beneath his boxers and hopefully set it free. Forcing a finger into my mouth; a hopeless plea of 'suck’ he manages to vocalize and I succumb to his request with please.

Legs further apart and trousers shuffled down; his thumb finds my clit with ease. A slur of profanities and moans roll off my tongue and a cold sensation; a wedding band; for a moment makes me freeze. I’ll only ever be a mistress; I know this - it’s how it was all meant to be. It’s the reason I haven’t seen him in so long; it’s the reason we barely talk or say even a single word. It’s the reason he hasn’t been around the hotel lately; the reason for his intricate lies and schemes which he followed through to set me free. Shaking my head to rid myself of all these thoughts and ideas; I’m late to notice that his pressed himself up against me; length slicking through my wet core and face buried into the crook of my neck. A groan from him erupts a wave of pleasure through my veins as slowly he lines himself up and begins to sink in.

“Ughh… fuck..”

It’s the only phrase I can comprehend.

“S..Soryu… fuck…”

Head thrown back; his teeth sinking into the thin skin of my neck; this seems perfect, this seems right, this seems how it’s just meant to be - until a someone we weren’t expecting disregards the sign on the door and knocks; unlocking the suite with their own master key.

Dating 'Katherine Pierce' Would Involve...

  • Discovering new facts about each other
  • Going on amazing dates
  • Exploring the world together
  • You protecting her
  • “I stopped running for you.”
  • Her opening up about her feelings for you
  • Her making the first move
  • Running your fingers through her perfect curls
  • Her putting her life on the line for you
  • Her cheeky comments
  • “You looked past all my flaws.”
  • Spending days in bed together
  • “Only you have ever loved me.”
  • Knowing her genuine laugh
  • Her being able to make you laugh
  • Knowing that she is walking towards you because of the clicking of her heels
  • “I’m never going to let you go.”
  • Whispering sweet nothings to each other before falling asleep
  • Her trying to make you jealous
  • You kissing her passionately in public
  • Her storming away during a fight only to come back hours later apologetically
  • “Kat.”
  • When you are feeling playful “Kitty-Kat.”
So while in the lobby of my building I ran into a white guy wearing the Haitian flag as a bandana
  • Me: Is there a reason why you're wearing my flag as a bandana?
  • White dude: Um, I went there. Where in Haiti are you from?
  • Me: That's really disrespectful. I wouldn't wear an American flag as a bandana.
  • White dude: I just like Haiti. It's to honor them.
  • Me: Bullshit.
  • His white dude friend: What's your issue?
  • Me: My issue is him flat out disrespecting my flag, just b/c he went there once. It's disrespectful that's what it is. Do you know how hard we had to fight to get this flag? And how hard we're still fighting today to keep it?
  • White dude: Do you want me to take it off?
  • His friend: Man, you don't have to take it off. It's a free country.
  • Me: It's a free country, you do what you want. But just know you and yours ain't shit for this.
I would have given you forever, you know? If only you had asked. But you never did. That told me all I needed.“ She said and she walked away, her heels clicking on the hard ground. She never looked back despite the fight in every bone within her body.
—  M.C.E But you never asked. So I left without a second thought.
Five Times Matt Touched Foggy’s Face, Part 3

part 1, part 2, part 4

also on my ao3 now woop


Matt hears her heart stutter and the blood rush to her cheeks. 

“Matt.” Spoken through gritted teeth as she walks toward him, heels clicking menacingly, louder than everyone else that pushes past him in the crowded hallway. “How did you know it was me?”

“I can smell that perfume you take a bath in across campus,” Matt answers shortly. “We need to talk.”

Her heart rate jerks again–her throat clicks as she swallows once, twice. “Of course. Shall we go somewhere more private?” She takes his elbow, but, planting his cane firmly in front of him, he pulls away from her grip. Her fake nails grate against his jacket, an ugly sound.

“Right here’s fine.”

“Okay, Murdock,” she snips. In a split second, she drops her polite affectations and moves neatly into business mode, all clipped words and barely controlled impatience. “What is it? I’ve got class in ten.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Uh… Standing here waiting for you to make a point?”

“Don’t bother lying about it, Marci.” She swallows again. Her heart is hammering so loud and so fast that Matt wonders briefly if anyone else passing by can hear it. He takes a deliberate step toward her, so close that the tips of his shoes bump into the toes of her pumps. “Foggy loves you, which makes him blinder than me here. You’ve been so obvious about it I can’t believe he hasn’t noticed. And yeah, I know you think that just because I’m blind I can’t see right through you. You’re wrong. You’re cheating on my best friend, and it stops today.”

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

Lie. Not that it matters. “Either you tell him today, Marci, or I will. I get out of Spanish at 8:30, so. You have until then.”

He secretly relishes the sound of her heart pounding as he walks away from her.

As soon as Matt opens the door to their shared dorm room, he hears a panicked crinkling of papers, the thud of a foot connecting with the floor.



“Don’t come in yet, I–kinda–hang on–”

Matt cocks his head in confusion but raises his hands, palms up, cane held between two fingers. “Not coming in. What, did you move the furniture around?”

“No, I, uh.” Foggy’s voice, oddly muffled, moves quickly around the room. “My books and stuff are all over the floor. Okay, you can come in now.” Matt steps over the threshold and closes the door behind him.

“What happened?” he asks, though he already knows.

Foggy sighs, a little shakily, and Matt realizes that his voice sounded muffled before because he had been crying. “Marci cheated on me, so I told her to fuck off.” He sniffles a little; Matt’s heart drops to his feet.

“Oh, Foggy.”

“Yeah. So, that happened,” Foggy said with false brightness and a desperate laugh.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know.”

He sounds dangerously close to tears, so Matt pounds his cane on the floor dramatically. “So, how drunk are we getting?”

Foggy snorts. “It’s Tuesday.”

“Oh, come on, live a little!” He hits Foggy’s leg with his cane. “Aren’t you always the one telling me I need to take a night off? Let’s get, uh–crunk? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Foggy laughs again, and it’s genuine this time. “Stop trying to be hip, Matty. You sound like my grandpa.” Glass clinks as Foggy opens the minifridge, and the bottle he puts in Matt’s outstretched hand is cold and damp.

Three beers and two shots of tequila each later, Foggy says, without a trace of a slur, “I hate her.” It’s soft, muffled by the comforter he threw over his face ten minutes ago, but Matt’s hearing is distressingly perfect. Matt closes his eyes. (There are some moments, like this one, where he still hopes that closing his eyes and opening them again will yield some result other than awful, endless blackness. It never does.) “No, seriously,” Foggy continues. “I thought that my most hated person would forever be Professor Simmons for giving me that B minus last year, but like, I would honestly wine and dine and marry him if it meant I never had to think about Marci Stahl again.”

“I believe you,” Matt replies, and he does.

Two more shots and Matt is almost asleep with his head on Foggy’s knee when he hears the smallest voice he’s ever heard from Foggy: “What’s wrong with me, Matty?”


“I mean–” There’s a sniffle and a shaky breath before Foggy pulls himself together enough to speak– “I mean, there must have been something she wasn’t–that I wasn’t doing right, you know? Is there something about me that makes me cheat-on-able? Am I just–”


“No, seriously,” Foggy insists. “I wanna know. I gotta fix it for next time.”

“Foggy, stop it.” Matt drags himself up to lean against the wall beside Foggy. “It’s not your fault. She’s the one who fucked up, not you.”

“I’m shaking my head right now, Matt.” There are definitely tears in his voice this time. Matt drags his hand up Foggy’s arm, across his collarbone, reaches for his cheek. Foggy’s tears slide over Matt’s fingers. Matt thumbs them away as best he can, and maybe he’s crying a little bit too, because his throat has closed up against his will and he can’t think of anything to say that would make it better.

Foggy whispers, “Fuck.” And he finally comes crashing into Matt’s shoulder, and Matt hugs him as he silently shakes apart.