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studiojeon · 3 years

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use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | - Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee).

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed.

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish. “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes.

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better.

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you.

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face.

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly.

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips.

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way.

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were.

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion.

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on?

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week.

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker.

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way."

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while.

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either.

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out.

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside.

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you.

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know".

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right.

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?"

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though.

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t.

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.

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cherienymphe · 4 years

Text

Rapture (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, loss of virginity

!!! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !!!

➥ {page breaks done by @firefly-graphics }

summary: taking on the case of the disappearance of your father, Sherlock Holmes finds himself drawn to you, the daughter who holds more mystery than any riddle he’s ever encountered

“Y/N, keep your chin up, dear.”

Swallowing down your ire, you listened to your mother and did just that, raising your chin and pushing your shoulders back. A soft breeze ruffled the skirt of your dress, and goosebumps erupted over your arms underneath your sleeves. You could hear your mother fussing over your sister, lightly scolding her for the dress she’d picked out, something about the color.

“We want to look our best for when Mr. Holmes arrives,” you heard her say.

You heard your sister let out a soft huff, having no desire to hide her annoyance. Those classes your mother made her attend weren’t doing much for her character, but she was young. No longer a child but not yet a woman, instead stuck in that place in between. You did not yearn for those days…

You did once, longed for the innocence and ignorance that clouded your childhood, but adulthood had long taught you that ignorance was not bliss. Ignorance kept people blind from the truth, and some truths needed to be known.

Your mother’s change in tone alerted you to the carriage that was being pulled into the yard. A soft sigh escaped you as it drew near, a far cry from your sister’s intrigue, eyes wide and neck strained in order to get a better look. The three of you were poised on the steps in front of the grand house, having been patiently waiting for Mr. Holmes’ arrival.

Sherlock Holmes.

The detective whose name was known far and wide was arriving to help none other than your family. Out of all of the possibilities that had taken up residence in your mind, the infamous Sherlock Holmes taking on the case of your missing father had never been one of them. You supposed that you shouldn’t be shocked that the mysterious disappearance of the wealthy patriarch had caught the man’s attention. It was all anyone could seem to talk about these days…

All three of you watched the mountain of a man step out of the carriage, but for three very different reasons. Your sister was curious, intrigued by this new person, a new puzzle to figure out, a thing to study and observe. Outside of father, your sister had never interacted with many males in her life. Your mother looked at the dark-haired gentleman like a beacon of hope, a savior to bring her peace in some form or another. You, on the other hand, you watched him like a snake would a hawk.

If you didn’t keep an eye on him, he could very well eat you alive.

“Mr. Holmes,” your mother rushed to greet him, and the contents of your stomach tossed at the relief you heard in her voice.

In her mind, he had already solved the case and returned your missing father to you. She was comforted by the detective’s mere presence, and you grimaced.

“It is an honor to have you here. Truly. You do not know what it means to me and my girls,” she told him, voice already shaking.

“It is no great deal to me, madam. I wish to find your husband just as much as you do, to bring peace and relief back to your household.”

You shifted on your feet, hands clasped in front of you as the low timber of his voice reached your ears. It was smooth, soft even, but no means wavering. His steady diction exhibited his refined background that you’d heard so much about, and you warily eyed him.

He towered over your mother, making the strong woman look so incredibly fragile to the point that it scared you. You suddenly had the urge to push him away. As your mother conversed with him, your sister tiptoed to your side, admiration in her voice as her lips brushed your ear.

“He is quite handsome, isn’t he?” she said, surprising you.

She had never expressed any interest in boys, but Mr. Holmes clearly struck something in her that even she could not ignore. As you ran your eyes over him, you found you were unable to deny the truth in her words. His features were indeed striking, the kind of face that artists begged to paint. His dark brows and hair complimented his eyes, strong jawline and pink lips moving fluidly as he talked to your mother. His curls gave a boyish quality to his otherwise manly countenance, and you had the brief thought of touching them, wondering if they were as soft as they looked.

“…and these are my daughters,” your mother’s voice reached you as she neared, the imposing man a step behind her.

Both you and your sister greeted him properly, your sister’s name falling from his lips as your mother honed in on her. You sent him a small smile when your mother gestured to you, and he returned it, eyes alight as she introduced you.

“This is my oldest, Y/N. My pride and joy,” she praised.

Your sister squirmed beside you, and you frowned.

“Mother,” you quietly admonished to which she quickly brushed off.

“Oh, hush. She will bring greatness to our name just as her father did. Rest assured, she will be a great help to you,” she told him.

He eyed you with something unknown as your mother continued to speak praises to your name, and you looked away, gaze landing on your sister instead as you took her hand. She had begun to shrink in on herself, and you swallowed down a sigh.

Your mother wanted her youngest to be something she was not. She wanted her to be you, but the young girl couldn’t ever be anyone but herself. And you didn’t understand why mother would want her to. It was a great source of insecurity and frustration for your sister, to constantly be compared to yourself, and it hurt you to see the adventurous girl make herself small.

“Do come in,” your mother ushered him inside.

Mr. Holmes followed her, and you and your sister him, your eyes never straying from his broad form. You’d heard of his skills, his observation, but of course you had never seen the man in action before. At first glance, it seemed like an innocent perusal, as if he were simply taking in the new scenery, admiring it. However, it didn’t take long to realize that he was taking note of every detail. Every plant, every painting that was askew, even the liquor cabinet, eyeing which liquors were consumed the most.

Your mother was prattling on about nonsense, and Mr. Holmes had already begun to work.

“Tell me, when did Mr. Y/L/N disappear?” he suddenly murmured, fingering a plant on a nearby table.

“Tomorrow will make it…what is it? Three weeks without him?”

She looked to the two of you, and you both nodded.

“Three weeks,” she confirmed. “We only noticed his absence the next morning, so it had to have been that Wednesday night. At the very latest, the early hours of Thursday morning.”

“…and you are sure it was a Wednesday?”

She thought for a moment before nodding.

“I’m sure of it. It rained all day the next day, finally making the ground soft enough for my dear Y/N to start her garden. She adores plants,” she told him with a smile.

Your heart sank to your stomach, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you realized what was happening here. Leave it to your mother to prioritize finding you a husband while investigating your father’s disappearance. Mr. Holmes’ gaze met yours, and you held it until he was forced to look away. At least she thought highly enough of you to think you worthy of someone like Sherlock Holmes.

All three of you watched him pace around the living room, a soft hum leaving his lips here and there. Again, he returned to that plant that he’d been fingering, eyeing the carpet beneath the table before finally looking to your mother.

“I’d like to take a look at the rest of the house.”

With a wide smile, she was all too happy to oblige. Your sister bid him goodbye with a soft smile, and you did the same when his eyes met yours, face falling as soon as he turned his back to you.

“Do you think he will find father?”

You glanced up from your breakfast to gaze at your sister, her anxious eyes already on you. You swallowed, wiping your mouth before offering her a shrug.

“Who is to say…”

“He must! He’s the best detective there is. He’s only been here for two days, and already he seems far more diligent than the others,” she quietly argued.

“I cannot argue with that,” you admitted.

You were unnerved by the unfamiliar man. He was indeed great at his job, and his acceptance of your mother’s offer to stay in one of the many rooms here only gave him more time and free reign to gather clues as to where your father could have gone. He spent the first day with your mother, having her recount everything she could remember, anything that could help. The next day was your sister, so you knew it was only a matter of time before he demanded your time and attention as well.

You didn’t like the thought of being alone with the man. His piercing eyes were scarily perceptive, taking note of much more than you could possibly give him credit for. They were ever watchful, and that unnerved you to no end. True to your suspicions, he entered the dining room just as you were finishing up, heavy gaze finding yours, and you bid your sister adieu.

“Your mother said that you went to bed early Wednesday night,” was the first thing he said as soon as you sat down across from him in the dimly lit living room.

The dark curtains allowed for little sunlight to peak through, and shadows casted over his aristocratic features.

“I did.”

He hummed, a faint smile on his lips, so small you could miss it if you blinked.

“Tired?”

“Extremely. I don’t sleep very well,” you honestly told him. “…and so I figured the earlier I rested my head, the earlier my eyes would follow suit.”

He nodded at that, eyes trailing over the room.

“Does gardening help with that?”

“…sometimes,” you answered.

“Does your mother or sister help out with that? Or is it just you?”

“It’s just me.”

His eyes were on yours again, gaze inquiring, yet guarded. He was probing for something, and you knew it was his job, but it filled your mouth with distaste.

“…so you are the only one who attends to the plants in the house?”

“Yes.”

He stared at you for a moment before releasing a small sigh. He stood, and you did as well, eyeing him as he paused at your movement before slowly beginning to pace about the room.

“I am here to help…Ms. Y/L/N.”

His voice reeked of well-hidden frustration, and you sighed as well.

“I know that,” you responded, briefly closing your eyes. “…and I am cooperating, am I not?”

He paused, and his eyes met yours again, flickering between your irises before humming.

“Indeed, you are, but I want you to cooperate because you want to. Not because you feel like you have to. I am merely here to help, to find your father’s whereabouts, so I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“I am,” you lied.

He knew that you were lying, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, but he let it go.

“Your mother and sister said that you all searched the grounds for him all day. Enlisting the help of the police for the next week and a half before the search was eventually called off,” he suddenly said, moving on.

“Yes. No stone was left unturned. My mother felt it was best to leave this in the hands of detectives, but the lot of them were…incompetent at best.”

Disdain and disgust coated your words, and Mr. Holmes eyed you.

“…and at worst?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pursing your lips.

“Greedy perverts trying to get their hands on our money,” you admitted.

You threw him a humorless smile, and the corner of his lips quirked up just the slightest as he turned away.

“None of them sparked your fancy?”

He was teasing, and you fought back a smile.

“No. I don’t daydream about marriage, Mr. Holmes. Of course, it is what my mother wishes for me, and I know that I am to settle down eventually for it is the way of the world, but I am certainly in no rush. Marriage does not appeal to me in the slightest.”

It was the one wedge in you and your mother’s relationship: your lack of prospects. However, no amount of snide comments from your mother about your age would sway you.

“Surely, your parents’ marriage must have softened your heart just a little…”

When you looked up, his eyes were once again on you, something in them that you could not name, and you held his gaze, a fond smile on your lips.

“Their marriage was like any other, I suppose. Of course, they had the occasional spat over the most trivial of things like all married couples do, but they were happy,” you replied.

He simply nodded, gaze lingering before pulling his eyes away, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say reluctantly so. His casual interrogation that wasn’t really an interrogation didn’t last for much longer, and somehow, you felt more nervous leaving the room than you did when you entered it.

Your mother and sister did not seem to share your sentiments. Indeed, they were ever comfortable around the dark-haired man. Part of you wondered if the holes in their heart that were left by father were temporarily being filled by Mr. Holmes. Having a man around the house again surely brought some mild comfort to them, even if they knew it was only momentary.

They happily invited him to eat with you all, participate in small talk, even showing him your garden. You felt that it was all unnecessary, distracting even. Mr. Holmes had a job to do, and the sooner he left, the better. You didn’t know how much more of his analyzing gaze you could take.

It didn’t matter that he would be engaged in conversation with your sister or mother for his eyes always found their way back to you somehow. He wasn’t a man of many words, but it seemed that you were an exception. Your mother did not miss how he always attempted to draw you into conversation, get you to talk more. It was becoming rather tiresome to explain to her that the man was simply doing his job.

Hell, it was becoming tiresome to remind yourself of that. It was his job to pry, to observe, to snoop even. The day that you’d found him in your chambers, standing by your bed, gazing around with his hands folded behind his back, you’d almost suffered a heart attack. It took the will of God to remind you that he was a detective, and that he was simply doing his job.

Sherlock Holmes was doing what he was hired to do.

And that was the problem.

You could hear footsteps approaching from below, and you paused on your reading, sticking a finger in the page before closing your book. The branch that you’d chosen to lounge on was higher than the usual, and you craned your head ever so slightly to look down below.

Mr. Holmes decided to make himself at home beneath the tree, leaning back against the trunk. His suit jacket was gone, one knee bent, and you watched as the autumn breeze ruffled his soft curls. You blinked, wondering to yourself how he managed to look both intimidating and vulnerable at the same time?

“No one in town seems to have any legitimate idea of where your father could have gone.”

His voice traveled to you from below, and you chuckled before you could stop yourself.

“No, I would imagine not. Despite what they may think, none of the townspeople know my father, at all,” you told him.

You could feel his eyes on you as you descended, and you brushed your dress off when you finally made it to the ground. He looked up at you with such intrigue, brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and concentration. You cleared your throat.

“You’re staring, Mr. Holmes.”

He slowly blinked at you.

“Indeed, I am,” he said, rising to join you. “I do apologize. I was having a rather strong sense of déjà vu.”

Now it was your turn to frown in confusion, and he continued.

“My sister…she loves to hide away in a tree with a good book just as well as you.”

He ran his eyes over your face, drinking you in, and the hair on your arms stood on end.

“…you remind me of her in some ways,” he murmured.

“Well, she sounds like a remarkable young woman then,” you complimented.

“She is getting there,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “Although, just like her, so much of you remains a mystery to me.”

You squirmed under his scrutinizing gaze, looking away from his narrowed eyes to walk towards your garden. You could both feel and hear him behind you, and you felt your face grow hot as the weight of his stare pressed down on you.

“You have a rather impressive garden,” he praised.

You looked to him, a small smile slow to spread along your lips.

“Thank you.”

“Crown Imperials,” he noted, and your smile fell. “They seem to be a favorite of yours.”

“They are. The bright blooms are so pretty to me,” you truthfully replied.

“You spend a great deal of time out here,” he hummed.

You bent down to finger a petal, a genuine smile on your face now.

“I find comfort out here. Looking at this garden, basking in its presence, puts me at ease. Flowers that bloom in the colder months, when all the leaves have fallen and the animals have scurried away to hibernate, symbolize rebirth to me. New beginnings,” you whispered, eyes unfocused as you let your hand fall.

You slowly stood, stomach flipping when your eyes met his as you turned around. His hands were at his side, broad form much closer than you remembered, and your eyes zeroed in on the way he flexed his fingers. Mr. Holmes opened his mouth to speak, but you interrupted him.

“I should get back inside to assist my sister with her studies,” you told him.

You bid him goodbye and scurried past him before he could utter a word.

The next night, you made your way downstairs in the darkness as you did every night. Your mother and sister were fast asleep in their rooms, Mr. Holmes having long gone to bed as well. With a soft sigh, you approached the front door, locking it with a resounding click. You pressed your hand against the wood, heart aching for your mother, pitying her even, before you turned around.

“Why do you lock the door every night?”

A scream threatened to escape your throat, but you swallowed it down as light flooded the foyer. You pressed your hand to your chest, glaring at the detective as he stood across from you…dressed for bed. You blinked at the sight of his bare chest, and you quickly looked away, face heating up.

“Mr. Holmes,” you slowly began, forcing your heart to slow. “…you frightened me.”

“You did not answer my question,” was his only response, and you frowned at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

He took a step towards you, and you resisted the urge to take a step back.

“Mrs. Y/L/N leaves it unlocked every night in hopes that her husband, your father, will return. She told me so, and you come down every night to lock it. Why?”

You heaved a sigh, guilt flooding you.

“…because it is sad. I hope for his return just as much as my mother, but I will not be so foolish as to leave me and my family completely vulnerable while we sleep.”

He didn’t respond, so you continued.

“My father, her husband, is God knows where, and I understand that she is worried, but she is beginning to lose all sense of reason ever since his disappearance. Someone must keep this house together,” you complained.

He eventually nodded at that, seeming to accept this, and your eyes fell to the floor, uncomfortable with his close proximity and inappropriate state of dress. Your eyes caught the end of your nightgown, and you realized with a start that you both were inappropriately dressed for this conversation. Especially one so late at night. You shuddered to imagine what your mother would think if she came downstairs this very moment.

You looked up, startled, when he stepped closer, and your throat felt incredibly dry all of a sudden. Your sister’s words that first day came back to you, and you thought to yourself that Sherlock Holmes was much more handsome than she knew. You took a step back, back grazing the door as you eyed his face, him doing the same.

“You brew medicine for your mother, making salves as well,” he suddenly murmured, and you frowned. “I saw them in her room. The herbs used to make them I found in the kitchen.”

Your frown deepened, unsure of how this was relevant to anything.

“I did not know she was unwell,” he probed.

You cleared your throat, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“She isn’t…unwell, I mean. At least…not really. As she said, it rained that Thursday after my father’s disappearance. She was worried and distraught and did not take note of the slippery steps. She fell, and the salve and medicine are simply to help with the bruising and the pain,” you explained.

He only hummed at that, and you made to move around him, a bidding of goodnight on your lips, but he blocked your path. You looked to him with wide eyes, heart beginning to race again, although you didn’t know why.

Even in the thin and exposing nightgown, you felt your body heat up under his heavy gaze, his eyes running over your frame in a way that you were familiar with. However, the disgust that normally coursed through you at such an action was nowhere to be found. Instead, something unfamiliar swirled in the pit of your stomach, and this scared you.

It must have been written on your face, that fear, or at the very least visible in your eyes for Mr. Holmes took a step back. You noticed that his jaw was clenched, face pinched in a pensive manner that was becoming all too familiar to you. He suddenly wished you a goodnight, and you did the same, feeling his heated gaze searing into your back as you ascended the stairs.

Sleep did not come easy to you. In fact, it smoothly evaded you for days, and the already dark circles beneath your eyes became even more prominent. Your mother and sister were used to your inconsistent sleep schedule, accustomed to the haggard appearance your face would take sometimes. If Mr. Holmes noticed, however, he did not mention it. Of course, that was a silly thing to think. He noticed everything, and it was no surprise to you to find him in the lounge room late one night.

The flames licked at the inside of the fireplace, casting a low light over the room. His daunting form was seated in your father’s chair, and neither one of you greeted each other as you made your way into the room. Sometimes on particularly trying nights, you liked to curl up with a book by the fireplace in hopes that it would lull you to sleep. You had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Holmes knew this, hence his presence, and you sighed.

You didn’t wish to be alone with him, and you had every intention of making your way back to bed, but some part of you scolded yourself for your treatment of the detective. He was only doing his job, after all. You knew that your wariness of him was no fault of his, and you guiltily made your way to your father’s bar.

“Would you like a drink before I head back to bed?” you asked him, already reaching for a glass.

He didn’t respond, and you glanced up to find his gaze still on the roaring flames, a hand resting against his mouth, eyes thoughtful. You reached for one of your father’s more expensive selections just as Mr. Holmes spoke.

“He’s beneath the garden…isn’t he?”

You did not falter in your movements, but you could not stop the way your stomach churned, threatening to expel everything you’d eaten that day. You set the bottle down, and your hand shook around it. Your lips parted, but no words came out, and you snapped them shut, swallowing.

“I beg your pardon?” you eventually responded.

“I took on this case to pass some time really. It seemed simple enough to me. Your father had been murdered…that much was clear,” he quietly said.

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden, and your heart clenched in your chest, painfully so.

“However, it was only a matter of who.”

You felt tears spring forth, but they held off, collecting in your eyes as he continued.

“Your mother seemed the obvious choice, too obvious even, and I was proven right when I met her. She loved your father dearly, and I’d be a fool to think she could ever bring harm to him. I considered your sister next. Naturally. She is impulsive and wild, but that is precisely why she was ruled out. She’s not, how would my brother say it, refined?”

You briefly closed your eyes in defeat.

“No. Not like you…”

He stood to face you, and the tears finally spilled over when his troubled gaze met yours in the low lighting.

“She has not mastered the skills to truly be a lady. She has not learned to hold her tongue or hide her thoughts or school her features so that they are the picture-perfect vision of decorum and poise…to show the world only what you wish for them to see.”

His smooth voice did not bring you comfort, and you fought to hold his gaze as he neared you.

“…but you have. You’ve mastered it quite well, in fact.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out, only a shaky exhale.

“Many people in town mentioned your mother’s clumsiness. Her constant aches and faint bruises…bruises you’ve been tending to for a while…”

He stopped before you, eyes somber.

“He was hitting her. Probably much more than that. When did you first discover it?”

Again, words failed you, and he shook his head, a dark curl brushing his forehead.

“That tidbit is not relevant, so don’t bother to answer that.”

“Mr. Holmes-.”

“You referred to their marriage in the past tense. You lock the door at night because you know that he is never coming home.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Crown imperial is an interesting flower to plant, most people avoiding them because of the putrid smell. Of course, a flower like that would cover up the smell of decaying flesh rather nicely,” he mused. “I know it happened in the living room.”

Your eyes widened at that.

“That plant on the table…there’s hardly any soil in it at all, the only one in the entire house like it. That and the pinches of soil on the carpet beneath it tells me that it had been knocked over. It matches the few grains found in your sheets,” he explained.

You blinked at him.

“You were evidently in a hurry to clean it up and get back into bed. After all, it must have been rather early in the morning at that point… This was after you buried him correct?”

Reluctantly, you gave a shaky nod, confirming his accusations for the first time. He pressed his hand to his mouth again, the other on his hip as he paced, brows furrowed.

“The only thing I cannot seem to figure out is how you did it…”

“…belladonna,” you softly said, speaking for the first time that evening.

He looked at you, and you held his gaze, tears at bay for the moment.

“My father never misses a nightcap,” you told him with a shrug. “Large doses of belladonna can be-.”

“Fatal,” he finished for you, and you looked away.

“So…what happens now? Surely you mean to turn me in…hand me over to the police to answer for my crime,” you tearfully said.

He didn’t say anything, and the only noise in the room for a while was that of the crackling fireplace. Eventually, you heard him approach you again, and you flinched when his hands landed on your arms. Reluctantly, you looked at him, and his eyes flitted over your face, unsure of what to settle on. His thumbs brushed along your bare skin, and your throat bobbed.

“I should,” he whispered to himself, brows drawn together as he studied you. “I should turn you in immediately.”

He stepped closer, and you could feel his body heat, practically feel his heartbeat beneath his chest. His hands tightened on you for a brief moment before loosening his hold.

“…but I can’t,” he confessed through clenched teeth.

Confusion filled you, and your lips parted in shock. His eyes seemed to be drawn to the action, gaze lingering on your mouth for far too long.

“I…I don’t understand…”

He drank you in, gaze vexed, like you confounded him. One of his hands slid to your neck, fingers brushing your jaw, and you sharply inhaled, lips trembling.

“Even now…I still cannot figure you out,” he murmured to himself.

Your confusion grew, frown deepening, and you watched as he suddenly blinked, taking a step back. It took longer for him to finally let you go, and his face appeared strained, movements stiff as if it took everything in him to do so. He took a few more steps back, getting as far away from you as possible before he spoke again.

“There is no doubt in my mind that you very well could kill me in my sleep, but I trust that you won’t.”

Your eyes widened when he made to leave, and you called to him. He paused in the doorway, fists clenched at his side as he refused to look at you.

“W-what…what will you tell them? What will you tell my mother?”

Your voice was but a whisper, disbelief coursing through you at this turn of events. His shoulders heaved as he sighed.

“…nothing for you to worry about…Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of your name falling from his lips, and before you could process what he had said, he was gone.

“He…he’s simply run off?”

You leaned your head against the wall as you listened in on the conversation taking place in the dining room, and your heart constricted as her soft sobs reached your ears. You couldn’t imagine the feeling of fretting over someone for weeks, fearful for their wellbeing only to discover that they weren’t hurt at all. The opposite, in fact.

Only, it was a lie.

As you listened to Mr. Holmes spin the believable tale of your father running off with some mistress, you thought to yourself that the truth would have been better. Your mother could move past the truth. She could heal from the truth. How was she meant to heal from this?

You quietly pushed yourself off of the wall and made your way past the doorway. As you passed, your eyes caught those of Mr. Holmes, his heavy stare boring into you, and guilt tore through you as you caught sight of your mother’s distraught form.

No, the truth would have been far better. Your mother, the loving and strong woman that she was, deserved to know the truth, and you intended to give it to her.

Hours later when darkness fell, you found yourself outside, yanking out flower and vegetable roots. Thunder rumbled far off in the distance, and a light sprinkle of rain dampened your hair and dress. Tears soaked your cheeks as you dug through the dirt, sobs wracking your frame. You had buried him deep, and now that had come back to haunt you.

Or so you thought.

A startled gasp left your lips as firm hands yanked you to your feet from behind, and your eyes were wide as you were spun around to face none other than Sherlock Holmes. Lightning flashed behind him, illuminating his angry features, and you shrank in on yourself underneath his harsh gaze.

“What the devil do you think you are doing?”

More tears fell, and you shook your head.

“I cannot do this! I cannot go along with this lie any longer,” you told him.

His eyes softened, but his jaw ticked at your words.

“Y/N,” he sighed your name.

“Thank you for what you’ve done, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot bear to see my mother hurting like this over a lie. The truth…the truth will be much easier for her heart to bear,” you gasped.

You fought to get out of his hold, but he proved to be as strong as he looked.

“I cannot allow you to do this-.”

“Why not? You’ve solved the case! The great Sherlock Holmes figured it out, and soon my name and face will be plastered on papers everywhere as everyone learns what I did,” you cried.

“You were protecting your mother,” he argued.

“In the eyes of the law, I am still a murderess. I have reason to believe that you would agree with them,” you scoffed. “…why are you protecting me?”

He didn’t respond, and you huffed, jerking in his hold again, but he wouldn’t budge. The rain was coming down a little harder now, and your vision was blurry from both the weather and your tears. Your knees started to buckle as your movements slowed, and you would have collapsed to the ground if Mr. Holmes hadn’t been holding you.

He leaned you against your tree, and your fingers twisted into his rain-soaked shirt as tears skipped down your cheeks. He still hadn’t answered your question, and your eyes reluctantly met his. He looked at you like he had been looking at you for weeks, and that unfamiliar feeling returned…as well as the fear.

“You are not nearly as fragile as I initially thought you to be,” he quietly said, puzzling you.

He continued before you could voice your confusion.

“…but you are not nearly as tough as I thought you to be either.”

He reached up to brush his thumb over your lip, and you jerked, eyes widening at the action. Your heart felt like it was threatening to leap from your chest, and a thought suddenly occurred to you that had never occurred to you before.

“You have plagued my thoughts for weeks,” he confessed, making you freeze. “…entering my dreams the very moment I first had my suspicions.”

“Mr. Holmes…”

“Who would think that someone like you would be capable of such a thing,” he mused, genuine bewilderment on his features. “…and yet…I still want you so.”

Dread began to fester in your gut, and you pushed against his chest, but it proved to be useless. He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes boring into your own.

“Sh-Sherlock,” you said, hoping that hearing his name from your lips would snap him out of it, knock some clarity into him, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

His fingers tightened, enough to make you wince, and his eyes fluttered close, a long exhale leaving him.

“Y/N,” he whispered your name like it was a prayer. “How do you manage…to be half heaven…and half hell?”

The words had barely left his lips before he fiercely pressed them against yours, startling you. A horrified gasp left you, and he clutched you to him, breathing you in as he moved his mouth over yours. He only seemed to take note of his actions when your palm met his cheek.

You stumbled back, hands grasping along your tree as he took a step back. His lips were swollen, hair damp and eyes troubled as he blinked at you. You pressed one hand into the tree behind you, the other to your chest as you stared at him in fear. Your chest was heaving just as much as his.

“Forgive me,” he whispered.

He swallowed, at least having the gall to look ashamed. You stared at one another for a painfully long time, ruminating on what he’d done, the line that he’d crossed. You didn’t move, too afraid to, and Sherlock’s jaw clenched as he eyed you.

His hands curled into fists at his side, features twisted with a myriad of emotions that you couldn’t place. There seemed to be a struggle going on, and your lip trembled as he dragged his eyes over your wet frame, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His dark hair was damp from the rain, the strands curling around his ears and kissing his forehead.

His lips parted ever so slightly, and he straightened as his eyes finally met yours again. You watched the way his nostrils flared, a carnal hunger in his eyes that terrified you to the bone.

“Forgive me,” he whispered again, apologizing for something that he hadn’t done, but was instead about to do.

You turned and ran past your tree, but he was already upon you before you could even get in three steps. His muscular arms wrapped around you, holding you to him as he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, lips trailing kisses over your damp skin.

You reached back to tangle your fingers in his hair, attempting to pull his head away from you, but he only groaned against your skin. Fresh tears escaped, and you shuddered as he pressed himself against you, hard and threatening against your dress.

Your back met your tree, and Sherlock was quick in pressing his lips to yours. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, noises of protest escaping your lips as you pushed against him. You were sobbing when he finally broke the kiss, and you shook your head, pleas falling from your lips.

“Don’t do this,” you begged, knowing you were no match for him and accepting that pleading was your only chance. “Please, don’t- you’ll ruin me.”

Your eyes searched his.

“I’ll never be able to find a husband, to give my mother some form of happiness again after what I did. Let me make her happy,” you shakily whispered.

His brows were furrowed as he gazed at you, and his hands felt incredibly hot on your waist. The light rain had passed now, leaving only a partly cloudy sky and a bright moon to shine down on you. Sherlock closed his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours, thumbs tracing patterns into your waist.

“…I suppose I will be your husband then.”

He gently shushed you as you cried, softly pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t budge no matter how hard you pushed against him, and you shook as he hooked one of your legs onto his waist. One of his hands pressed into the back of your head while the other tore at the skirt of your dress, all the while he kept you pinned between him and the tree.

It suddenly occurred to you that this was your punishment. This was your comeuppance for what you’d done. It didn’t matter that your father hurt your mother on a regular basis, murder was wrong, and you were being punished for it.

You cried harder when you both felt and heard him releasing himself, and the cool air you felt against your core told you that Sherlock had ripped away every barrier between you two. His lips were gentle on yours, and his entry did not differ from that.

He was slow in pushing inside of you, and you hit against his shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream as he stretched you. Your nails dug into him when he could go no further, and a long moan lowly left his lips, satisfaction dripping from every note. You blinked back tears as he pressed his hands into the bottom of your thighs, keeping them at his waist as he held you to him.

He slowly moved within you, and one hand held onto him to keep from falling while the other dug into the bark of the tree behind you. He kissed you again, and you turned your head away. He let out a soft growl of frustration before pulling away from the tree.

You yelped and shuddered when your back met the cold damp ground, but your yelp turned into a gasp when he firmly thrust into you. It was a feeling unlike any other you’d ever known, and you squeezed your eyes shut, one hand fisted into his shirt while the other did the same to the grass.

You felt full, but it was an uneasy feeling, like you shouldn’t be full. Every drag of his member pulled a whimper from you, and your face crumbled when he pressed kisses to it, trying to bring some comfort to you while he had his way with you.

“You feel exactly as I dreamed you would,” he whispered.

You sniffed beneath him, core protesting his assault, no matter how gentle it was. You pushed against him again, but he gripped your hand, bringing it to his mouth, and a shiver traveled down your spine as he brushed his lips over the inside of your wrist. He held your gaze as he held your wrist to his lips, and the intensity behind his eyes scared you.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “I have every intention of marrying you.”

Somehow, the fact that he was telling the truth scared you more than the thought of him abandoning you. He was going to take you away from your mother and sister, and then who would look out for them? A shaky sob escaped your lips, and he shushed you again, hips curving into yours over and over.

“No one will ever discover what you did. I’ll see to it,” he told you, kissing you again. “…and I’ll make sure your family is well cared for.”

His breath hitched, pace changing, and your toes curled on their own accord.

“Why?” you tearfully gasped as he nipped at your neck. “Why…?”

He paused his movements, holding himself inside of you as he looked down at you. You felt defeated, and the only thing left was confusion, bafflement at why you. He brushed his fingers over your tear-stained cheek, eventually ghosting them over your swollen lips. Sherlock looked at you like you were the most magnificent creature he’d ever seen, and your stomach turned.

“…so much of you is still a mystery to me, and even if I never figure you out…”

He brushed his soft lips against yours.

“…at least you are mine.”

tags: @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @trinittyy @hyoyeoniie @kellyn1604 @sherrybaby14 @jtargaryen18

#dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #dark fic #sherlock x reader #henry cavill

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cornacopicimagines · 4 years

Text

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well.

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride."

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable.

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

━━★✼☆｡

The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

━━★✼☆｡

The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything.

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

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kiribaku-queen · 3 years

Text

The Blood King and his Queen [6]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.2K

Summary: From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: I really need to stop writing so late at night... I finish writing sometimes at 2 or 3 in the morning but I have to wake up at 5:30!! God, why do I do that to myself?! But its all worth it because I love reading your comments and seeing your likes and shares <3

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You waved your arms in the air, signaling to his men where you were. How worried and concerned they looked couldn’t be explained with words. It was like they didn’t even look at him as their prince. They viewed him more as a close family member than their future king.

Everyone crowded around Bakugou wanting to be the one to help him up. But ultimately, it was Kirishima and Sero who supported him, one on each side as they helped sling his arms over their shoulders. Bakugou growled in pain every time he moved or took a step. Your eyebrows furrowed in concern and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You deeply wanted to help him, but what more could you do? Sure, you helped stop the bleeding a little bit but surely there was something else you could do. You wanted to be the one he leaned on. You didn’t want to feel useless. And it was frustrating because you knew you could be of more help. You didn’t want to look like a princess who didn’t know how to do anything.

Mina happened to glance over at you while you mentally criticized yourself. Your hands were balled up in fists in front of you, your pouty lips were quivering, and you couldn’t take your eyes off the wounded prince. Mina’s eyes softened. She came up to you, took your hands in hers, and gave you a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry about that drama queen. He’s going to be fine. He can handle a small cut like that. He’s not called the infamous Blood Prince for nothing,” Mina assured you, making you feel a little bit better but no doubt, still worried.

You all stopped to rest about that ambush. No one else was hurt and nothing had been taken, just a few broken carriages but that’s all. One soldier was setting up a fire to heat up some drinks, two of them were looking at a map and depicting which route was safest to cross, and another was tending to Bakugou’s wounds. Thankfully, there was a whole cart of medicine. They applied medicine skillfully to his cut. This must happen a lot that they know exactly what to do without a doctor. You could only watch as you sit next to him, your eyes never leaving his cut. As his soldier was about to cover his wound back up, you held your hand out to stop him.

“May I?” you offered. The soldier was taken aback at the request, not expecting you to offer your assistance but gladly let you after seeing your determined face.

“As you wish, princess,” he backed off to leave the rest to you. You took hold of the bandages and began to wrap them around his torso.

“You let me know if it starts to hurt again,” you demanded as you finished wrapping him up.

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbled. You didn’t like his answer so you tightened your knot a little too tight for his liking and he winced in pain.

“I’m serious,” you pouted. Bakugou could laugh at your reaction but decided against it.

“Is her highness upset with me?” he questioned and you couldn’t hold back your thoughts.

“How could you get hurt like that?” you exploded. “You had me so worried. What if you had gotten killed? What would I have done then? You shouldn’t let yourself get distracted, especially not because of me.” You were scolding him but Bakugou’s lips turned into a deep frown. He grabbed you by the wrists, making you face him.

“Surely her highness isn’t saying that she is not of importance?” his deep voice whispered, raising one eyebrow in curiosity. Having his face so close to yours made you flustered.

“Well…” you tried to say but couldn’t finish.

“To me, you are the most important person here. I would battle a hundred swordmen and lose all my limbs if it means that you are safe,” he said, seriously. Your lips parted in surprise by his sudden confession. When Bakugou snapped back to his senses, he was the one to become flustered this time.

“B-Because you are the future queen… o-of course,” he tried brushing off, looking away like it was nothing. Any feeling of happiness that you had slowly turned into disappointment. Of course, he was only protecting you because he thinks you are the princess, his future bride. If it was you, you were sure he wouldn’t be saying these things. But you tried to not let it get to you.

“Bakugou, princess!” you heard Sero’s voice behind you. You both turned to see Sero running towards you with two cups in his hands, careful not to spill its contents. “Freshly made. Drink it before it gets too cold.” He squatted, carefully giving you both a cup.

“Thank you,” you gave Sero a smile.

“Ah, also,” Sero stopped to pull out a map from his back pocket. “Kirishima was looking at the map again and if we go through this route, we can probably avoid any more bandits.” He said while showing Bakugou the new route.

“Can we still make it there in two days time?” Bakugou asked.

“Yes sir,” Sero said confidently.

“Good man. We’ll leave in 10,” Bakugou gave Sero a nod of approval. When he left, Bakugou attempted to get up from his position. He held onto the tree for support and grunted in pain as he started to stand.

“What are you doing?” you questioned, puzzled on what he was doing. Instinctively, you grabbed hold onto his arm to help support him.

“Leaving. I have to make sure everything is intact,” he said and still tried to stand tall. You pushed him back down and shoved the cup back in his hands.

“At least finish this. I’ll go do it for you,” you say. Before Bakugou had the chance to refuse your offer, you were already on your feet, running to the group of soldiers. Bakugou watched while you were frantically making sure that you had all the supplies and checking everything like he would. Although, being a rookie, you were bad at your job. The soldiers laughed, making you feel embarrassed yet welcomed by them. They told you everything you needed to check so that next time, you could do it yourself. With a smirk, Bakugou watched in amusement.

You traveled on the new route Kirishima had set for you all. But because it wasn’t the normal road they took, it was a bumpy ride with the ground being uneven. You thought you would be fine continuing on, but you became a little jumpy due to the recent events that just happened. Every snap of a twig or rustle of the bushes, you turned your head to make sure that no other bandits were sneaking up on you.

“Scared, princess?” Bakugou whispered in your ear. You huffed and crossed your arms.

“No,” you denied.

“Like I said, I’ll protect you no matter the cost,” he reminded you. He was loud enough for his other soldiers to hear. Mina gushed over his comment while the others had their mouths wide open. Bakugou? The Blood Prince? Saying these romantic remarks to a woman? Now this was a new sight to see. Kirishima, on the other hand, was smiling softly at the new couple. He couldn’t wait to see your relationship bloom into something beautiful.

Being that the road you were on was so uneven, you had to hold on tight so that you didn’t fall off the horse. At one point, the horse became scared, lifting on his hind legs. You gasped out loud and closed your eyes to brace yourself for a fall. But Bakugou had swooped his arm around your waist and stabilized both of you to stay on the horse.

“See, gotcha,” the prince teased. You covered your face so he couldn’t see how flushed your face was. Bakugou chuckled because he knew. He could tell you were flustered and that’s the exact reaction he wanted to get out of you.

As promised, in two days time, you made it to your next destination. What you saw wasn’t a lively town, filled with vibrant colors and a chorus of people. There were no food stands that sold a variety of foods and desserts. No whiff of saliva-inducing smells. No entertainment on the street for you to enjoy.

You saw a poor village; with run-down houses and starving people all over the streets. The atmosphere turned sad, like a gray cloud was constantly over this place. The life out of this town was completely sucked out. The image was so heartbreaking that you could break down in tears this very instant.

“Bakugou,” your voice cracked.

“I know,” he said, just as sad and disappointed you were, probably even more. “This is the other side of the kingdom that no one gets to see. Most of this kingdom is living in poverty. Everyone knows of the more lavish side, but in reality, what you are currently seeing is most of my kingdom. There are two completely different worlds here but no one, not my brothers not the kind, is doing anything about it. I don’t even know how to fix it.” He explained. You reached a certain, open area and Bakugou got off, so did every soldier. They began unloading all their supplies. You could see a line starting to form not far from you guys.

“And this is the only way I can think of to help,” he said, offering his hand to you. You took it, hoping off the horse.

“How often do you do this?” you ask, still in shock with what you were seeing.

“Every month or so? I try as often as I can,” he replied as he also started unpacking the crates from the cart. Food, medicine, spare clothes, they had it all. The realization hit you. So that’s why they packed so many things in the beginning. It was for his people. His men were almost done setting up, getting ready to pass out rations to his people. But you were standing to the side awkwardly.

No. There was no doubt in your mind that you wanted to help him. You moved to stand next to Bakugou, proactively helping to pass out food rations.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. Aren’t you embarrassed as a princess?” Bakugou asked without sparing you a glance.

“Never. I want to help,” you said as confidently as you could, giving him eyes of determination. Bakugou finally looked at you, his heart skipping a beat again. He coughed, beating on his chest a few times.

You smiled at everyone who came in line, welcoming them without a single judgment. You looked down the line and all his soldiers were doing the same thing. They do this so often that the people recognize them and are laughing and having a good time. For living in such poor conditions, their spirits weren’t down.

After every single person had gotten their rations, you thought the work was over. Oh, how you were wrong. Once that was over with, his men started carrying out more things from the crates. This time, it was wood. They were going to help repair some homes. You were going to find Bakugou but immediately turned around when he took his cape and you saw him completely shirtless.

“You can sit this one out princess. This’ll get a little messy,” he advised. But you shook your head, still facing away from him.

“No, I want to help!” you were still determined. He chuckled at you.

“If you want to help, you’re gonna have to face the other way,” he pointed out. You took a deep breath and had the courage to face him. But only, your stare was straight down at the floor instead of him. How could you? With him being shirtless and all. Was that even necessary?

Bakugou took an axe and started chopping some wood. Your job was to bring the chopped wood to his soldiers who were the ones building the houses.

You eventually got tired bringing the wood back and forth, so you took a seat next to Bakugou who was nonstop chopping wood. The sweat was glistening his body in a godly matter. You couldn’t take your eyes away from his chest, that was heaving up and down. And then add some sweat? Phew, it made you feel hot.

“How long as this been going on?” you started a conversation.

“Ha?” he turned to you, not expecting you say anything so he was a tad out of it. “Ah, all my life.” He said. He decided that he’ll take a break too. He put down the axe and sat down next to you.

“If my father didn’t lie, these people probably wouldn’t be living like this,” he commented.

“Your father lied?” you asked curiously. Bakugou couldn’t believe that he was actually saying this, but he felt comfortable enough with you that he did.

“When he became King, he promised that he would protect every life in his kingdom. But look at all these people. They are suffering and dying because they are not getting the help that they need. And my father is neglecting them! He is a liar who couldn’t commit to a promise!” Bakugou started getting heated up. “That’s why I hate liars. I’ll ruin anyone who lies to me.”

And when he said that, your heart physically dropped.

A/N: Can I just say, you're gonna LOVE the next chapter. I literally just know it because I LOVE IT!

Also, does anyone else just read these chapters and think of it as an anime? No? Just me? Honestly, if I'm the only one that does this I'm gonna feel like such an idiot.

If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment or DM me and I'll gladly add you!!!

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @melasnchz-things @animexholic @bkgwrites @sam-i-am-1025 @apexqueenie @katsukibabe @germfart3 @tspice283 @angie-1306 @bakugous-trauma @bakugousmrs @random-fandom-girl-24 @monetfatalia @triviajeongin @readingslumpfanfic @softredrobin

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha imagine #bakugou angst #bakugou romance #bakugou fluff #bnha art #bakugou drama

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marinetteplztakeabreak · 3 years

Text

I need to share soft sign language buddies ninogami headcanon because they’re taking over my brain always:

(This got so long, so youre welcome if youre also starved for ninogami content)

Nino’s mom is Deaf , so he grew up signing as much as speaking. When he was younger he always signed as he talked.

It turned out he’s also Hard of Hearing, so sign language is way easier for him to understand most of the time.

However, though he’s great at making friends, he’s very awkward when it comes to talking about himself. So never comes up in conversation.

It’s not a self-deprication issue. It’s just a “thinking of things to say is hard and I’d rather have someone else do the talking” thing. He’d rather talk about anyone except himself.

Additionally! He’s great at helping other people, but he’s terrible at asking for help. He does not EVER want to be like “hey i cant understand what you’re saying, my ears dont work great,” its his worst nightmare

And it doesnt help that there have been a few cases of people being rude about it when he doesnt hear them after they repeat themselves. And possibly worse, there have been even more cases of people giving over-the-top apologies instead of just,, telling him what they said. So it’s not worth the trouble in his mind

with his few close friends who still dont know, it feels like its too late and it’d be awkward to bring it up, so he just… doesnt. He’s procrastinating on telling them he cant hear them

He stopped signing as much as he talked in middle school because strangers would always be like “woah thats so cool, how do you know sign language” and he’d just panic because he was an awkward tween, and he didnt know if he was comfortable telling them he was HoH, but ALSO just saying his mom was Deaf and not mentioning himself felt like directly lying by hiding information, so he just took the “lazy” way out and signed less in public.

Sometimes fighting the anxiety was not worth it so he just let it win in that case.

Nino is so nice and energetic and loves people, but he is way more introverted and anxious than his friends think.

But when they start to get closer, Kagami who is ever-observant, notices him signing a little bit, (not ever to her, not ever on purpose, but he’d sometimes sign a word he needed to remember while speaking or sign along to emphasize something)

and she luckily for his anxiety, she doesnt know how to have a normal conversation either.

Her (platonic as well as romantic) love language is studying and research, and Nino seems very cool and she likes him, even if she is awful at holding a conversation with him or doing anything to show it.

She thinks he’s so cool and such an amazing talented kind friend. She has so much love for him that she doesnt know what to do with it. So she channels that energy into learning to sign through the internet and whatever tools she can find

And then after a while of this, she’s like “oh no, he’s gonna think that’s so creepy, I cant tell him I know sign language or he’ll be so uncomfortable”

So, like a whole idiot, she hides that she’s learning sign language from anyone. Because OBVIOUSLY if word got back to Nino, he’d assume it was because of him and that she was a weirdo he shouldn’t be friends with

But also Kagami accidentally falls in love with sign language because she has undiagnosed autism. She always assumed that communicating was just going to be impossible no matter what, but as she gets proficient in sign language she’s like,,, oh,,, OH,, this is very nice

Even just signing while she talks makes it so much easier to keep words and sentances straight, but she only does it when she’s alone with her mother, who is literally blind and would never know.

They become closer friends in late high school, and by that time a lot of Nino’s anxiety has worn off and he’s become completely comfortable letting teachers know when he needs to hear somthing, and middle school feels like a distant dream

At some point, Nino invites Kagami to his house a few times, and he signs with his mom. Nino is like “I can interpret for you,” and Kagami is like “wow thanks, I’m so lucky, because I obviously do not know any sign language, why would I have learned it, and also for the record it is brand new information to me that you can sign,” and Nino is like “cool? Its not a secret but im glad i told you if you somehow didnt already know,” and Kagami is like, “yep :)”

But then eventually as they become really close, they are texting one night, (Kagami can still barely get out of her house, so they need to communicate remotely. And both of then HATE phone calls bc its so hard to understand whats happening, but neither of them have admitted this to anyone)

Nino admits that he likes using sign language better than talking, and he wishes he could use it with his friends, but he’d feel so guilty asking them to learn an entire language just to make him slightly more comfortable. He can talk and hear OKAY so he shouldnt put the pressure on them.

and Kagami is like “you could always ask, worst case scenerio they say no, and i dont think thats an unreasonable demand” and nino is like “it is though,” and kagami’s like “ok so haha funny story, please dont hate me” and nino is like, “…what.” And kagami confesses everything and nino is like “why… why would i hate you for that?” And Kagami is like “oh wait youre right im stupid,”

And then Nino’s also like “hey if YOURE more comfortable signing too, then why dont YOU ask your friends to sign for you. Do you see what i mean? It’s hard to ask-” and kagami is like, “as your friend i will prove it is not.”

So then Kagami ends up confronting Adrien and Marinette the next day and is like “Hi. This is a sign language dictionary. Learn from it.” And they’re both like “what?” And she’s like “oh wait sorry. Backing up. I’m autistic. I decided like three years ago. Forgot to tell you. And I need you to learn to sign a little bit so you can understand if i sign something at you. If you want, of course. Please :D.” And theyre like “ok sure yeah i can do that.”

(Theyve already learned and accepted that shes extremely direct in asking for things)

So then she texts nino and is like “i did it. Youre welcome.”

But anyway both of them are uncomfortable in crowds and parties: Nino cant hear anyone and Kagami tends to get sensory overload, so they start signing mostly in those situations, and then it starts to sink in that they’re allowed to sign whenever and that the other really IS also comfortable with it.

(Both of them are much more willing to make sacrifices for others than to try something new and intimidating for themself, so this is the perfect situation to trick them into getting out of their comfort zone, ironically by trying to be more comfortable in the long run)

so they will just sit together and hang out and have long conversations while just chilling somewhere in a park or at cafes or whatever. Both of them become chattier than they’ve ever been because talking and understanding is so much easier, and its addicting

And their close friends all become proficient enough in sign language to have simple conversations.

But also Nino and Kagami start sitting together automatically even in group hangouts, and they start hanging out more with just the two of them, and soon neither of them feel bad about asking to hang out in quieter places, because they can justify it knowing that it will also help the other one, and together that makes both of them also more comfortable asking for little accomodations from other friends, if only to prove to the other that they can do it too.

And Kagami has the lesser-known autism side effect where she makes WAY TOO MUCH eye contact. She’s aware of it but that doesnt make it go away. Normally she feels so awkward about it, and overthinks her gaze because she doesnt want to scare people away. But when signing, you literally HAVE to be watching the other person constantly, so she has an excuse to just be herself, and its so relieving

(and also its kind of fun to look at Nino anyway because he can get so animated and his smile is really nice and oh no she is in love a little bit)

And Nino always struggles because he emotionally ALWAYS needs to be the nice polite one. His anxiety sometimes gets the better of him and he’s constantly worried about sending the wrong signals to his friends and coming off as rude somehow. But with Kagami, he can literally just ask?? And she will tell him her honest opinion without making it weird. And its so comfy and so good and he really loves hearing her unfiltered opinions on so many things because she sees the world in such a unique way and she gets so passionate about such little things and then oh no, he is fallen for her before he can realize it

And they also learn that they’re both artists, they both love to just observe the world because even if they;re awkward, people are actually pretty great most of the time, and its fun to observe them and try to capture the world, and they just sit together and sketch, or they watch each other sketch, and the thing is, both of them draw ONLY FOR THEMSELVES, its not a ‘skill,’ and they don;t want it to be, its just private art for relaxation. Somehow, though, its okay if they share their art with each other. They can just sit in comfortable silence for hours while one of them sketches something and the other watches patiently

And they start to get more comfortable with one of their heads resting on the other’s shoulder as they watch them doodle, and sitting so close their legs press together, and soon enough their hands start brushing against each other’s as they walk next to each other and then all of a sudden they’re casually holding hands whenever they’re not signing because it’s nice

They try to share headphones so Nino can share some of his favorite songs and his compositions with Kagami. But try as she might, Kagami can not handle the sensory of only having one earbud in. Nino knows her tells by that point, and he’s not about to let her suffer for a stupid reason, but she REALLY does want to hear his music. They somehow end up with Kagami putting a pair of headphones around her neck and turning up the volume a little bit so she can hear, while Nino rests his head on her shoulder so he can hear just enough to know where she is in the song

And then he has to sit up and scootch away just enough to see her hands so they can talk about it, and they both pretend not to notice how nice it was to snuggle as they sign. Its fine, though, because now they get the excuse to just look at each other again and sign overdramatically with exaggerated facial expressions, and no one else around can overhear their conversation, and Nino likes to go a little over the top when signing onomatopoeia and acting out particular parts of the song rhythm that he likes, and Kagami laughs, and they both mentally save the image of each other in this moment the same way that they look at reference images for artwork, memorizing the lines of each movement and the things that make each smile unique,

and Nino also shows up at every single one of her fencing tournaments, and he sits as close as he can and signs encouraging messages to her from the crowd whenever she’s not actively competing, (that her blind mom can never catch, which is somewhat of a bonus to Kagami, because every element of their friendship that her mother cant interact with makes this more personal and special and HERS). Every little sign she sends back at him, even a simple thank you, always feels so good and rebellious and free because shes supposed to be focusing on fencing but shes deciding to care more about friendship. And even if she’s expected to leave immediately afterword, she’ll find every excuse possible to find him and give him a hug, which he’ll always accept even though she jokingly warns him shes sweaty and gross

And eventually they are special best friends and it brings them instant joy to see each other and theyre able to interact for no reason other than that they want to and like each other

(And then they kiss)

#ninogami #ninami #nino lahiffe #kagami tsurugi #miraculous ladybug #ml #fic tag #dont want to tag this with the other ship because the tumblr algorithm is weird #and i dont want it going in the tag because theres no content for that ship and this directly opposes it #but i respect nino and alyas relationship so much they are so good and perfect #but im also terminally a multishipper #and ninogami is so darn precious too i love them #i just try not think about the circumstances with alya in this shup #ship #just imagine she and nino are still close bros and alya is dating marinette or adrien or whoever else you want

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wonder-kid-pugh · 3 years

Text

Homesick - (Christen Press x reader)

Hey guys!!! Honestly heard this song and loved it so much and thought it would be good for an imagine. Halfway through writing it I thought it would have been better with an army service person but honestly was too tired to change it all. But I hope you enjoy!!!

You look so peaceful in our bed

I didn't wanna wake you when I left

To catch my plane

And I'll be trailing through the sky

Just another silhouette up high

Before you wake

I groan quietly as the alarm on my Fitbit buzzes awaking me from my peaceful night. I lay there for another minute before deciding I unfortunately have to get up. Ever so slowly I gently slip out from Christen's grasp and quietly get out of the bed.

I start to move around the room getting ready. The benefit of having everything packed the day before means I wasn't in a rush to pack and I all I had to do was get changed. As I check my watch I see I need to be leaving soon to make my flight. But as I look over at Christen who is still sleeping peacefully in the bed I smile softly at the sight.

She looked so serene and peaceful. She looked so relaxed as her chest rises and falls in slow rhythmic breaths. I frown knowing how hard she's been working lately on Re Inc alongside training and everything else that needs to be done. I sigh and bite the inside of my cheek. We had a traditional, sort of like an unspoken rule. Whenever one of us had to leave for somewhere we would always wake the other up to say goodbye. Sadly it was usually me doing the waking up having to travel a lot for work.

But knowing how stressed she been recently about Re Inc's new capsule launch and the upcoming Olympics, I didn't have the heart to wake her up.

Instead I settle for a gentle kiss on her forehead. I freeze as she stirs in her sleep as she shuffles around in the bed before burying her head into my pillow. With one last smile I creep out of the room leaving her a small note on the counter before leaving for the airport.

Knowing by the time she wakes up I'll be high in the sky.

You tell me that you had that dream again

When I didn't have to go

I wish that we could live inside your head

I had barely stepped into my hotel room when my phone rings. I drop my bags before fishing around in my pockets to find my phone. But I smile as I see the name pop up on my screen, "Morning Chris".

"You didn't wake me this morning..." I didn't even need to see her to know that she was pouting on the other end. I bite my lip, "I know but I know how hard you've been working and you just looked so beautiful and peaceful. I just couldn't do it". She giggles, "Maybe it's because of the dream I was having".

I flop back into the bed settling back into the mattress, "What were you dreaming about?" "You woke me up and told me that your gig was cancelled and you didn't have to leave". I chuckle and run my hand through my hair, "I like the sound of that. I wish we could live inside you head".

And I know that you'll feel better

When you're sat there in my sweater

That I gave you to remember

Being on the sofa next to me

And I'm waking up at 6:00 a.m.

To call before you go to bed

And tell you 'bout the day I've planned

And listen to the one you had

And when I'm homesick

I've got you on my home screen

So anywhere I'm going

I know that you'll be with me

Until I hold you, darling

I grin, "I'm sorry I didn't wake you up. But I have a surprise that will make you happy". She hums, "Oh yeah? What is it?" "Go look in the wardrobe" I tell her. I can hear her shuffling on her end as she no doubt goes to the wardrobe. Then I hear her coo over the phone, "Awe Y/n..." I smile, "I know it sucks being away from each other a lot of the time especially with conflicting schedules and stuff. But I hope this will help remind you I'm always here for you".

She giggles, "It's smells like you and a small bit of popcorn". I had left her one of my oversized sweater which she always loved to steal off me. She had spent many nights curled up in my sweater on the sofa for our movie nights. It was one of my favourites but I could never be mad at her for taking it. She just looked so adorable all swallowed up in the massive hoodie.

"This way" I tell her, "whenever you start to miss me. You can just put this on and think of the two of us cuddled up on the couch". She lets out a content sigh, "I love you". I smile, "I love you too".

Your friends, they ask you all the time

Why'd you wanna wait another night

When I'm not home?

And nothing seems to settle down

Just another day, another town

And we're alone

As much as I love my job it did suck at times. Being a photographer for hire was brilliant as I got to do what I loved and got to travel all over the world meeting amazing people. The problem with being in such high demand means I'm traveling a little too much at times.

It also meant that I was purely reliant on reputation alone. Thankfully I had spent years building it up. It didn't hurt that I was very versatile doing just about everything from travel pictures to modelling shoots. But in building up a reputation it meant that I couldn't turn down bookings.

And it seems that I always had the worst timing with luck. It seems that just as I finish up a job I get booked for another one. Postponing my return home. Things just never seems to settle down. Meaning spending even longer away from Christen. Or just when I come home she's leaving for camp or matches. I would be hopping town to town. The two of us alone.

But not really

But I can never let this go to waste

The further that I go

The more I seem to love you every day

But no matter how far away we are from each other. No matter the distance I travel it could never diminish how much I love Christen. It's as if the further I travel the more my love grows for her. I guess what they say is true.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

And I know that you'll feel better

When you're sat there in my sweater

That I gave you to remember

Being on the sofa next to me

And I'm waking up at 6:00 a.m.

To call before you go to bed

And tell you 'bout the day I've planned

And listen to the one you had

And when I'm homesick

I've got you on my home screen

So anywhere I'm going

I know that you'll be with me

Until I hold you

When I'm homesick

I've got you on my home screen

So anywhere I'm going

I know that you'll be with me

Until I hold you, darling

After touching down in New York and hailing down a taxi I slump back in the seat as they drive me to the hotel for the night. But the first thing I do is check the time difference. It just became apart of my routine everytime I went somewhere for work. I would always check the time difference between where I am with wherever Christen is.

I had made it a priority to always call Christen before she goes to bed no matter what unless it was organised before hand for some reason.

Of course I never told Christen this. Purely cause in doing so it means that I would have to be awake at insane hours in order to call her. Of course it was a pain but everything was worth it to hear about Christen's day.

As I get to the hotel I immediately slide into the bed not even bothering to change and instead just dropping my bags and getting comfortable underneath the warn blankets. Knowing I only have a few hour before needing to wake up to call Christen.

I groan lightly when I hear the alarm on my phone go off. I sit up in my bed with a yawn before taking my phone off the charge and dialling Christen's number. I rub the sleep from my eyes as it rings. But it doesn't take long as it only has the chance to ring twice before I hear my beautiful girlfriend's voice on the other end, "Hey Y/n!"

I smile tiredly, "Hey Love". "You okay? You sound tired. Early start?" I chuckle quietly she has no idea. "Eh it's okay I just woke up is all". I stifle a yawn, "But don't worry about that how was your day?"

I can't help but smile as she begins her long rant about her day. Starting off with the usual with her morning yoga and meditation and everything. Then tells me about Kelley acting like a crack head at training and work for Re Inc. "Mal was asking for you as well today" she tells me making me smile. "Awe" coo, "tell the little nugget I miss her too".

"Do you have much planned for the day?" She asks. I shrug although I know she can't see me, "Well other than the shoot I have today I don't really know. Maybe if I get a chance I can go explore maybe take a few pictures". She groans, "Uh I wish I could go exploring with you". I smile, "Maybe one day I'll bring you back with me and then we can explore together". "I would like that" she says softly.

There's a small pause before she speaks again. "So do you know when your going to be coming home?" She asks quietly. I sigh knowing it was coming. She asks every time and I hate it. Purely because I can never give her a good answer. I never liked giving her an answer only for her to be disappointed when another job calls me away again. "I don't know Chris" I sigh. "I have this gig which is a city wide shoot which could go on for days if we get delayed and then I might be getting called for another in England afterwards".

I could practically see the frown on her face, "Okay..." I sigh and play with the ring on my finger, "But you know that I'm doing everything in my power to get back home to you". "I know". I inhale deeply, "I love you so so so so much Christen Press". I smile as I hear her giggle down the line, "I love you too". "To the moon and back" I whisper. She sighs contently.

"To the moon and back"

I know that you'll feel better

When you're sat there in my sweater

That I gave you to remember

Being on the sofa next to me

I groan quietly as I rub my eyes tired from constantly staring at the screen. When I glance up I see I've been editing these photos for over 3 hours now as the it now shows that it's nearing 4am. I slump back in the chair and stare up at the ceiling just taking a moment to rest my eyes.

I loved photography and taking pictures of different things. But this was the part I hated the most. Editing. Was simply the bain of my existence. It was just a slow process and took so long to do such small things. And as much as I wanted to just go to sleep I knew I couldn't. The longer I put these off the more pressure I'll be under to get them sent off.

It would also lead to just a bigger amount of pictures to edit and that didn't seem all that appealing either.

It didn't help that all my thoughts just seems to trail back to Christen. She's probably in the middle of team bonding or free time right now. Probably hanging with Tobin or someone right now. What I wouldn't give to just be cuddled up with her right now taking a nap.

I missed her so much right now

My thoughts are interrupted by my phone pinging. I sigh as I grab my phone only to see it's an Instagram notification. I scrunch my face "I've been tagged?" I shrug thinking it's just probably someone posting some photos I took for them but instantly smile when I see who it was.

It was a picture I had actually taken a while ago just for fun but it came out extremely well. It was a picture of Chris sitting on our sofa looking away from the camera and instead to the seat beside her. The light streaming in from the windows we're hitting her perfectly. But the best part was her sitting them in my baggy sweater adorning her small frame making her look even smaller than usual.

Christenpress Wish you were here next to me

I chuckle as I like the photo. Christen was such a tease. She knew that fans had suspicions that she was dating someone but would never come out and directly say who. It was quite funny seeing how many people speculated Christen and Tobin were dating from photos I had taken. Taking friendly gestures way out of context.

After staring at the picture for a while longer I switch off my phone and get back to editing the photos. Wanting to get these done as quickly as possible. Because the quicker I get these done.

The quicker I get home to her.

And when I'm homesick

I've got you on my home screen

So anywhere I'm going

I know that you'll be with me

Until I hold you

When I'm homesick

The day had been longer than it should have been. The shoot had a rocky start with an overbearing manager interrupting the shoot constantly and questioning everything every 5 minutes. I was quickly coming to the end of my tether but I finally cracked. Not only was he making the model uncomfortable, he started questioning me. So I eventually kicked him off the shoot.

Which was the best decision as the model finally relaxed enough to continue on with the shoot. It ran much smoother after that but we had a lot of time to make up for. And along with the wardrobe changes and travelling between locations the day was just tiring overall.

It didn't help that homesickness hit my like a train today.

I don't know why but everything just remind me of Christen. It was almost crippling how much I missed her. Wanting nothing more than to be in her arms. But I plastered a smile on my face and grinned and bared it. The only thing getting me through the day was my phone.

My phone was my lifeline and my medicine for homesickness. Whenever I was having a bad day or just missing home all I had to do was turn on my phone. And I was met with Christen smiling up at me from my home screen. It was a picture that I think one of her teammates took. It was of a picture of a few of us at a party or team celebration I honestly couldn't remember. With Tobin, Pinoe and a few others either side of us while Christen was sitting on my lap with my arms wrapped around her and my chin resting on her shoulder. Both of us smiling at the camera. It was of It's my own way of always having her with me.

She has my sweater and I have my home screen. And that will keep us going until we're back together again.

I've got you on my home screen

So anywhere I'm going

I know that you'll be with me

Until I hold you, darling

I focus my camera waiting for the perfect moment until I quickly snap the photo. I grin as I see the outcome of the shots and swear that she could never take a bad photo ever. I wait anxiously taking the occasional picture until the whistle finally blows.

I pull the snood closer to my face and pull my hat down further down my face making me almost unrecognisable. As I make my way onto the field I snap pictures of the players trading after match pleasantries and talking to each other. I smile as I see her smiling and laughing with Tobin and Mal. I raise the camera to my eye and wave at them, "Hey! Can I get a picture?"

They all nod before standing beside each other and smiling at me with their arms around each other. I quickly take the picture before lowering the camera, "Beautiful! Thank you but I was expecting a better reaction from you".

She looks at me confused before I lower my snood and smile at my girlfriend, "Hey Love". She gasps at me before launching herself into my arms giving me just enough time to move my camera away from getting crushed and catch her in my arms. I spin her around in my arms before putting her back on her feet. "Your here! Omg your actually here!" She squeals as she wraps her arms around my neck.

After passing off my phone to Mal with a smile I securely wrap my arms around her waist pulling her even closer to me, "Yes Darling. I'm here".

We sway side to side for a bit just enjoying being back in each others arms again. "I missed you" she whispers into my neck as I kiss the side of her head, "I missed you too. So so so much Chris".

She pulled back just even to look into my eyes before leaning in to kiss me. Finally being back in each others arms we were so happy to be back with each other. "I love you to the moon and back" I whisper pressing my forehead against hers.

"I love you to the moon and back"

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #christen press x reader #christen press imagines #christen press imagine #uswnt x reader

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lunar-jimin · 4 years

Text

life goes on, it gets so heavy; the wheel breaks the butterfly

Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reading

Rating: 18+

Genre: smut, angst, fluffy ending, ceo!jungkook, secretary!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: cheating, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, using pulling out as a protective method (don’t do this kids), dom!jungkook, sub!reader, cumming in pants, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink, degradation, lovey-dovey sex, impreg kink

Summary: Despite being the golden heir of a wealthy empire, Jungkook is incredibly unhappy with life he’s been handed. When you show up in his office one morning, you change his life in the way he least expected, but in the way he needed the most.

a/n: This is an anonymous commission for my BLM fundraiser!! If you would like to request something yourself, you can find the link to my official post here! I would also like to thank the lovely @nightowls388 for beta reading!!

| masterlist | moodboard | playlist |

The air was too hot. Uncomfortable. Sticky. Jungkook loosened the tie around his neck in a desperate attempt to free himself from the confines of his suit. He hated August. It was always too warm, too sunny. He preferred the dark winter days where the snow silenced the universal white noise. Black suits weren’t as suffocating on forty degree days.

He glanced out the window of the Rolls Royce, taking in the pedestrians struggling not to melt in the intense gaze of the sun. He sympathized with their struggle. Even the blast of freezing draft from the air conditioner did little to spare him from the heat. He enjoyed watching people. He was fascinated by the little idiosyncrasies that formed them into unique individuals, each essential to making the world work. Besides, everyone’s life seemed more interesting to him than his own.

There was a point in his life when he was content with the plan his parents had laid out for him before he was in diapers. He looked forward to one day taking over his father’s company, marrying a nice girl, and starting a family. It was a simple plan and one that gained the approval of the adults in his life: something he was constantly vying for as an adolescent. It was what he was raised with. When he went to college, everything changed. For the first time in his existence, he wasn’t being inundated with his parent’s doctrine and found that there was more to life than running Fortune 500 companies. His parents were less than pleased to discover that he had accompanied his business major with a minor in photography.

But despite the longing that had bloomed in him for something more intriguing than sterile offices and mundane board meetings, he still found himself back home where his parents once again instilled in him the desire to be the golden heir. A year after his return as the prodigal son, his parents set him with the woman who was now his wife. Three years after that, his father decided that he would rather spend his days on the golfing green rather than in sky-high conference rooms, so he handed off the company to Jungkook. Ever since Jungkook had been locked inside stuffy black suits and boring ties. And he absolutely hated it.

He squirmed in his seat, his desire to escape increasing with each second he was locked in the back of the car. God, why was it so hot? He felt like crying- a feeling that had become increasingly common during the past six months. His brain felt like a bubbling volcano waiting patiently to explode. Sometimes, Jungkook imagined what would happen when it did. He would divorce his wife, leave his job, and move to some island in the Caribbean where he would spend the rest of his days taking pictures. It was a nice dream, but it was only that, a dream.

He shook his head, trying to contain his runaway emotions. As the car came to a halt in front of the office building, Jungkook tightened his tie and grabbed his briefcase before exiting out into the scalding heat. If inside the car was bad, outside was absolute hell. It was so hot, Jungkook swore he was on fire. He frowned, rushing into the safety of the air-conditioned skyscraper in front of him before he broke out in a sweat.

He sighed in relief the second he made it through the rotating doors. He had never been so grateful for the large air conditioning bill in all his life. His relief was so immense that it took a full minute to realize something was wrong. Normally, the second he walked through the door, his secretary greeted him with an iced coffee and a pastry, but as he looked around, his secretary was nowhere to be found. Yet another sigh escaped his mouth as he stepped into the elevator. Why of all days did today have to be the day his secretary magically disappeared? He shook his head.

He noticed her the minute he arrived at his office floor. She was bent over a box, all her attention focused on searching for whatever object was eluding her. It took her a moment to notice his presence, but when she did, she bolted upright before scurrying in front of the desk, hands behind her back. Jungkook looked her up and down, transfixed by the beautiful stranger.

“Can I help you?”

His voice came out harsher than he meant it to and he cringed when you tried to disguise a wince.

“Um, yes, I’m your new secretary, Mr. Jeon.”

His brows furrowed.

“New secretary? What happened to the old one? He was perfectly fine.”

He didn’t remember any emails about his secretary leaving, although to be fair, he hadn’t been paying attention to much these days. He might physically be at work, but more often than not, his mind had drifted to far off places. Mostly island paradises.

“He moved away.”

“Ah,” he gave you a once over, “and what is your name, new secretary?”

You answered him. He nodded as if you had given him the right answer on a quiz.

“And I don’t suppose anyone has told you how things work around here.”

“No sir.”

His hands clenched at the name, a picture of you on your knees before him (with much less clothing) popped into his head. He shook it off, trying to stay the least bit professional. He had a wife for god’s sake.

“I see. Well, for future reference, I expect you to meet me each day in the lobby with an iced americano and a pastry,” he paused when he realized how demanding he sounded before softly adding, “No cherries though, I hate cherries.”

You nodded, grabbing a sticky note and jotting down his instructions.

“For now, just get settled in. Do you happen to know if I have any meetings today?”

You nodded again, “You have a lunch meeting with the Samsung marketing director at one, sir.”

There it was again. That damn formality. It was really going to get the better of him.

“You will accompany me. I expect you to take notes, but don’t contribute to the conversation. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jungkook nodded before making a beeline to his office before he got a boner. He let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him. His heart pounded in his chest and despite his desperate attempts, he’s chubbed up a bit in his pants.

He didn’t want to admit that it’s because you might be the most attractive woman he has ever seen. He didn’t want to admit that he hasn’t been this turned on in months. Instead, he passed it off on the fact that he hadn’t had sex with his wife in three months which left behind quite a bit of built-up tension.

The hours ticked by and Jungkook attempted to bury himself with the neverending stack of paperwork. He remembered there was a time when he loved to show off his signature (there was a reason fifteen-year-old him never had a girlfriend), but now he wanted to chop off his hands so that he could never sign a contract again. He was thankful when the clock struck eleven, releasing him from his office, even if it meant being stuck talking shop for an hour while eating expensive but flavorless food.

He stepped out to find you arranging photos on the wall beside your desk. You glanced up when you heard the door open and flashed him a blinding smile.

“Ready, sir?”

He nodded. The title was really going to be a problem.

The meeting was the beginning of Jungkook’s personal purgatory. Every day you would greet him with a smile and the best pastries he had ever tasted. (He was surprised when you admitted to him that you had baked them yourself. If you weren't proving to be an amazing secretary, he would suggest that you open a bakery, but he’s selfish.) You were a good listener and caught onto his routines without a struggle. But every day you would show up dressed as pure temptation. It wasn’t even that your outfits were scandalous, just simple pencil skirts and pastel blouses, but you made them look like sin incarnate. It didn’t help that every night he went home to his wife who he barely noticed existed anymore.

There had been a point when he and his wife were, er, passionate. For the first couple of years, Jungkook even managed to convince himself that he was in love with her. But a couple of months ago, weekly dinners turned into once a month before they disappeared altogether. To make the situation worse, his mother was starting to complain about her lack of children, but he didn’t know how to break it to her that he couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed his wife, much less had sex with her. There were no bitter feelings or resentment, just indifference. He had briefly considered couples therapy before deciding against it. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to attempt to salvage the crumbs of his marriage.

You had only added fuel to the fire. Jungkook found himself just as infatuated with your mind as he was with your body. Not only did you laugh at his dumb jokes and listen to his whining, but you had witty contributions and easily found out-of-the-box solutions. He swore this quarter’s numbers would be higher just from you alone. And you flirted. He wasn’t sure at first, incredibly hesitant to respond in fear of a scandalous HR report. But when he caught your gaze on him when you thought he wasn’t looking one too many times, he realized there was a good chance that you liked him just as much as he liked you.

Between you, his wife, and his desperate need to escape this world of offices, limos, and quid pro quo, his life was unraveling right in front of him. Still, he tried to hold onto all the pieces before they landed in a disappointed heap in his lap. He wasn’t quite ready to let it all go to shit. He definitely was not ready to meet his parents’ disapproving faces when he lost everything they had worked so hard to ensure he had.

Two months after you began working, he found himself at an overcrowded party praying he was anywhere but there. Sadly, being a CEO meant that he wasn’t allowed to drink away his woes, lest he make a fool of himself in front of all the investors. Instead, he was forced to stay exhaustingly sober as he watched everyone around him devolve into debauchery. He found his wife pleasantly drunk near the bar talking to one of her friends whose face he recognized but couldn’t remember her name for the life of him.

“Having fun darling?”

He grinned, trying to play the role of loving husband. A role that had become increasingly difficult to mimic.

“It’s your birthday party, I should be asking you. Have you even had a drink? Probably not,” she turned back to her friend, “He never drinks at these things, something about keeping up appearances. I think it’s dumb. It’s his own birthday for fuck’s sake.”

He rolled his eyes. There she went again, putting him down. It wasn’t the first time she had commented on his festive sobriety. She wasn’t a fan. Maybe it was because he only fucked her after he drank. Still, he conceded to her teasing, figuring one drink wouldn’t hurt. He waved down a bartender.

“A whiskey on the rocks, please,” he turned back to his wife, “satisfied?”

She grinned at him before resuming ignoring him in favor of whatever fascinating conversation her friend was providing. He sighed before grabbing his drink and making his way out to the balcony. The air inside the penthouse was stuffy and he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. He was surprised to find you already out there, nursing your own drink in your hand. It wasn't unusual for people from the office to be at his personal parties. His father had taught him a long time ago that inviting your employees into your personal life was key to inspiring loyalty. It made them feel like they knew you and that they were important to you. But seeing as you were a relatively new addition, he had never seen you outside of the office and if you were sexy in skirts and blouses, the dress you had on should be illegal. He gulped before leaning next to you on the rail.

"Parties not your thing?"

You jumped, spilling a bit of your drink onto the dark street below.

"Um, no, parties are fine. Rich people parties are just a whole new animal."

He chuckled.

"That's fair I suppose. Even I get sick of those fuckers. They do realize that they aren’t at the office anymore right? No need to brag about how well your stock is doing"

You smiled at him before looking back out at the city skyline. Despite having grown up with views like this, Jungkook still found it breathtaking. Almost as breathtaking as he found you. He took a sip of his drink, trying to drown his thoughts in alcohol. When he looked at you again, he felt his stomach churn. You were so beautiful that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. A sigh escaped him. You broke out of your trance and turned to look at him.

"Something wrong?"

"No. Not really."

You raised your eyebrow.

"I just- I know this sounds stupid and pretentious- but I really just don't want to do this anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"This job. This lifestyle. This life. I was raised to be the perfect CEO with the perfect family, a copy of my father really, but that's not what I want. All my family has ever seen me as is the golden heir and honestly, I don’t know if I can be that anymore."

"Who do you want to be?"

"I don't know. A photographer I guess. And marry somebody I actually choose to fall in love with. And live away from the stress of trying to please every person in my life at the cost of my own happiness."

"You don't love your wife?"

"No, I do. Kinda. I just... My parents picked her out and at some point, I was smitten with her, but we're so different and she wants success and money and, well, I don't care about that as much. She’s not a bad person, she’s just obsessed with her books and her writing, and well, that doesn’t leave much room for family. I’m not much better though."

"Oh."

"And we haven't been too hot lately."

"How so?"

"Um, well, we're really distant, and, um, we haven't had sex in two months."

You snorted and he blanched. He usually never shared that kind of thing with anyone and here he was confessing his personal problems to you, his secretary. The alcohol must be affecting him more than he thought. This is why he didn't drink at parties.

"How? Has she seen you? I would be all over you if I was your wife.”

You realized what you had said a moment too late and you looked at him with wide eyes, a faint blush covering your face. He let out a nervous chuckle.

“Would you now?”

You nodded before downing the rest of your drink. Jungkook felt something akin to butterflies begin to flutter in his stomach. He had known that he was fairly attractive, but something about hearing someone as ethereal as you admit it made his heart do flips.

“Yeah, well, it’s really on me I guess. I haven’t really wanted to.”

“You don’t want to have sex?”

Relief washed over your face when you realized that he wasn’t going to linger on your slip up.

“Yeah. Well no. I do want to have sex. Just not with her.”

“I see. Well, who do you want to have sex with?”

It was a small glimpse, almost imperceptible, but he saw the recognition in your face as you watched his eyes glance over you.

“Me?”

Jungkook gulped. What was he doing? What was he getting himself into? He had a life to protect. Expectations to uphold. And yet, here he was, considering risking it all for a secretary who was making him feel something for the first time in months.

When he gathered enough courage to look at you, he found you staring at his lips. One second he’s waging a war with himself and the next your mouth is on his. Your lips are just as warm and soft as he thought they would be and for a moment he lets himself be absorbed by them. But reality rapidly floods back, and he pushes you away. You looked at him, obviously hurt by the rejection.

“I’m sorry.”

He’s being honest. He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he was a coward who was afraid of what people thought of him. And the things people would think about him if they knew he kissed his secretary were not pretty.

“It’s fine.”

You failed to cover up the disappointment in your voice.

“It’s not you. It’s just I have a wife, and a family with expectations and-”

He sighs.

“Look, it’s fine. Really. I’m just gonna get going, okay? I’ll see you on Monday.”

With that, you leave him to his own devices. He watches your figure go, before turning back to face the city.

“Fuck.”

If work was hell before, it was nothing compared to what it was now. Every day, he found himself torn between wanting to take you on his desk and wanting to never see you again. Ever since the party, the memory of your lips pressed on his had haunted him like an orphaned Victorian ghost with a thirst for revenge. It was on replay in his mind to the point he couldn’t properly sleep anymore. He felt like shit, and he was pretty sure he looked it too, but if anyone noticed they neglected to say anything.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be doing just fine. You hadn’t so much as mentioned the party. You performed your duties with your usual pep and continued to bring him your heavenly pastries. He resented you a little bit for being able to move on so easily. Here he was hung up on a moment he had fucked up, and there you were acting like nothing had happened. He wanted to scream.

So he pulled back. He only talked to you if it was absolutely necessary. He never looked your way. He threw himself into his job. But you were still there, just as tempting as the first day he had seen you. His mind was being forced to choose between you alongside the island paradise he dreamed of, and keeping up appearances while pleasing his elders. A week passed and he was miserable. He was exhausted and all his will power had been depleted.

That’s why he ended up doing what he did. Or at least that’s what he told himself. Friday rolled around and Jungkook was at his wit’s end. And then there you were, fifteen feet away from him flirting with some random guy from IT. (Namjoon, maybe?) It was harmless, but it didn’t stop Jungkook’s gut from twisting about inside of him. Why didn’t you flirt with him? Why didn’t you show him any signs of affection? He reminds himself that he rejected you, but it’s no help. Jealousy overwhelms him as he squirms in his leather chair. He barely noticed his hands clamped into fists or the way his jaw had clenched to the point of pain. When Namjoon leans over to whisper into your ear, Jungkook loses the small tidbits of control he had left.

He pushes himself out of his chair and storms out, not bothering to say anything as he grabs your arm and pulls you away from a stunned Namjoon and back to his office, slamming the door behind him.

“Can I help you?”

Your tone is curt and your face was twitching with displeasure. Jungkook realized that once he had you, he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with you. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He would certainly like to bend you over his desk and fuck you until you couldn’t walk, but he was fairly certain that wouldn’t go over well with you right now.

“Umm…”

He felt a blush cross his face as he realized he was still holding onto your wrist. He released it before turning to pace back and forth across the marble floor.

“Well?”

You folded your arms across your chest, your eyes were alight with something dangerous. Something that Jungkook found incredibly sexy. Before his brain could register with what he was doing, he found himself marching over to you, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you in for a kiss.

You stiffened against him, but before you had a chance to respond, he had pulled away from you. The guilt was almost immediate, drowning him in regret and confusion. You too looked confused, as you stood stock still, surprise plastered all over your face. Jungkook turned and walked back to his chair.

“You can go.”

You seemed to barely register the words as you nodded before absent-mindedly wandering out of his office. Jungkook relaxed in his seat as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He knew he had feelings for you, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Nothing he couldn’t control. But he had lost control and now he wasn’t able to trust himself. And he didn’t know if he wanted to.

After that, things went back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be. He gathered the courage to interact with you again. But now instead of friendly glances and gestures, there were secret looks and subtle touches. Jungkook knew he was a wind-up toy one twist away from snapping, but he couldn’t help but indulge in your flirty gestures.

He found himself growing bolder as the consequences he had once worried about seemed to be a world away. What started with the brush of a hand across the hip, grew to a hand on your thigh in the back of the car. Dark stares and lip bites plagued his day. At night, he would go home and lock himself in his private office where he would wrap his hand around his cock while conjuring up images of you in a variety of wanton states, all for him.

He should’ve known that staying at work late with you would be a bad idea. Usually, you had the rest of the employees to keep you in check. With them gone, he found himself finding little reason to hold himself back.

“And so that’s why I think it’s a good idea to start engaging with younger consumers.”

You had been discussing ways to boost sales for the quarter, but he had stopped listening long ago, instead focusing on how your shirt was opened a button lower than usual.

“Mr. Jeon?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you listening?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Of course. Younger consumers. Got it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Maybe if you spent less time staring at my chest and more time focusing on these market studies, we would already have higher sales.”

“Sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

The drop of his voice surprised even him. You looked at him with an unreadable look from your perch on the edge of his desk.

“And what is so enticing about my chest?”

Jungkook gulped. Your eyes had darkened and he felt himself start to stir in his pants.

“It’s a part of you. And you are so sexy I can barely control myself.”

You smirked, before sauntering over to him and lowering yourself into his lap. The scent of your perfume overwhelmed him as you leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Then don’t.”

Somewhere inside him, a cord snapped. The control he had been trying to reign in had broken free and he was left to his own primal devices. He pulled your lips to his, finally relishing in getting to properly kiss you. You responded instantly, lips moving against his as your hands buried themselves in his hair. You tugged on the strands and Jungkook moaned into your mouth, hips bucking up into you as his hand grabbed your ass. You returned his moans and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

His brain was a mess of emotions and hormones. He was overwhelmingly hard in his pants and your lips felt too good against his. You rolled your hips on top of him and he let a growl, the need to take you battling with his need to preserve the few remaining shreds of his dignity.

He didn’t have the chance to make a decision though when the office door swung open and the head of a very confused janitor popped in.

“Uh…I thought you were gone,” he stuttered, “...I’ll just leave.”

The janitor blushed before shutting the door. Jungkook turned back to look at you to find a similar rosy hue had graced your cheeks.

“Um...I should probably get going too.”

Your voice was meek and the embarrassment of getting caught was plastered all over your face. He can’t blame you though, he isn’t doing too well himself. The fear of getting caught had left him deflated in more ways than one.

“Yeah, sure, that’s probably good.”

You moved off his lap, readjusting your skirt as you do so. You grab your purse and jacket before walking to the door. Just as you were about to open it, you turn back to look at him.

“Good night, Jungkook.”

He looked up surprised. It was the first time you had called him by his first name. It sounded heavenly coming from your lips.

“Goodnight.”

Before he left for the night, he made sure to track down the janitor and offer him a healthy sum of money to stay quiet. He took it happily and continued on his way.

The weekend passed slowly for Jungkook. You plagued his thoughts with images of your rumpled skirt and the feeling of your hands in his hair. His wife was out of town for yet another business trip. He didn’t care. It just gave him more time with the thought of you while his hand was around his cock.

When Monday finally rolled around, Jungkook found himself the happiest he’d ever been to go to work. As he walked into the lobby, the sight of you washed over him like the cold water of a lake on the hottest day of summer. Something about your smile seemed to relieve him of all the heavy stress he was carrying on his shoulders.

He almost made it through the day without losing control of himself. Despite all the glances he gave you, or the way you brushed your hand against his while you leaned over next to him to explain a chart, he managed to keep it together. But when you bent over in front of his desk to pick up a pen he dropped, he lost all control. The next thing he knew, he was slamming you against his office door, lips attacking yours, while his hips rutted into you.

Your initial shock wore off almost instantly and you groaned as you melted into him. You wrapped a leg around his waist, dragging him closer to your core. The kiss was messy and he was sure your lipstick was ruined. A fervent need overwhelmed him as he humped you like a desperate teenager. You pulled away to catch your breath, dark eyes looking staring back at his own.

“Fuck, you turn me on so much, baby,” he growled into your ear, hips moving faster.

Words seemed to fail you as you whined back at him, pleasure contorting in your face. You suddenly let go of him, before dropping down to your knees. Instead of going to undo his pants like he expected, you simply gave a long lick over his bulge. Jungkook’s legs immediately turned to jello and he had to brace himself on the door to keep himself upright.

“Oh fuck, what are you doing baby?”

“I’m getting you off. Do you want me to make you feel good sir?”

For once he was happy to hear the name. He didn’t get a chance to respond before you grabbed him through his pants. He threw his head back with a moan. It briefly occurred to him that people might hear through the thin walls, but your hand on his hard cock soon relieved him of all thought. It didn’t take much to get him to the point of no return. Even with all the nights spent with his fist and a bottle of lube he still felt like a rubber band getting stretched to its limit. You were barely touching him, but there he was, on the precipice of cumming in his own damn pants. He barely had time to warn you before spurts of hot cum filled his boxer briefs with white. “Oh, fuck.”

You giggled as he let out soft groans, cock twitching in its confines. The high of pleasure was quickly wiped away as the sensation of sticky underwear rose to his attention.

“You’re a bad, bad girl, baby. You made me cum in my pants. Do you know what happens to bad girls?”

“No, sir.”

“They get punished.”

“And how are you going to punish me, sir?”

Jungkook had to stifle a groan. You were still on your knees in front of him, calling him ‘sir’. Despite having just had one of the better orgasms in his life, his dick twitched with interest.

“Stand up.”

You quickly obey, rising to your full height, but keeping eye contact the entire time.

“Take off your panties.”

Your eyes grew wide at his demand, but you obeyed him nonetheless. The second you grasped the pink lace in your hand, he snatched them from you, immediately bringing them up his nose. He inhaled, letting himself get lost in the musky aroma.

“Shit, baby, you smell so good. I can’t wait to eat your wet pussy. But not today. You were bad today and only good girls get their pussy eaten.”

You let out a whimper but kept your mouth shut, body frozen in place. He stuffed your panties into his pant pocket before walking over to his desk and taking a seat.

“You may go.”

You looked like you wanted to say something, probably about your lack of undergarments, but you held your tongue and turned to leave.

“Oh, and one last thing.”

You turned back to him.

“I’m going to need a new suit. It seems I’ve spilled some coffee on this one.”

He smirked and you nodded, before stepping out the door.

He didn’t try to hold himself back after that. He would take you whenever the opportunity arose. It didn’t take long for him to fulfill his promise to eat you out. He would forever remember the way you whined his name while his mouth pulled not one, but two orgasms from your dripping pussy. And when he finally got to feel your mouth around his cock, he was fairly sure he had found nirvana.

He wouldn’t fuck you though. He knew it was silly as if he would be betraying his wife any more than he already was by having sex with you, but for some reason, he felt the need to draw a line. To separate the boundary between the fantasy land he had created with you and the cold reality that he returned home to. His wife had become all but a ghost in his life, and as a result, Jungkook found you providing his only emotional support in addition to sexual release. He didn’t want to admit that somehow, in a few short months, you had grown from being just his secretary to his closest companion.

He didn’t want to admit it because he was too afraid of where it would lead. He was already teetering on the edge to give it all up, even before you had shown up in his office looking like a gift from heaven, but now, now he was fairly certain that even the tiniest breeze would push him over. And he didn’t know if you would be there to catch him if he fell.

But that didn’t stop him from starting to dream of a future with you. The island paradise in his mind expanded to include you. Flashes of laughing children, nights under the stars, and soft kisses danced through his mind. You would have your own bakery, he would take pictures, and together you would create your own little family. One that was far removed from the hassle and the stress of his painful existence.

Jungkook was over the moon to discover that you would be accompanying him on a work trip to Japan. For one whole week, you would be one door away. Even if it was a ruse, Jungkook would be allowed to pretend, for one whole week, that you were his and he was yours alone. On the plane ride alone, he made you cum three times in the cramped bathroom. During the day, you would both try to hold it together. Merger meetings were laced with subtle glances and hidden touches. At night, you would become a whole other animal.

You tested his limits. Dared him to give in and finally give you what you both wanted: him inside you. Every night you would knock on his door in translucent nighties that highlighted the fact you had discarded your bra. After the second night of showing up in see-through clothes, Jungkook decided to return the favor, opening the door with his shirt unbuttoned, leaving his abs out for anyone to see. While you were both visibly affected by each other’s teasing, neither of you gave in until the last moment, each of you leaping into each other's arms and making a mess of the hotel furniture. But he still didn’t fuck you. It was his line. His final frontier.

On the last night of the trip, Jungkook suggested that they finally test out the jacuzzi on his balcony. Bad idea. When you showed up in a tiny red bikini that did little to protect your dignity, Jungkook felt himself spiraling out of control. Instead of greeting you like he usually did, he thrust a cocktail in your hand while trying to will his dick into submission. He made it through about ten minutes in the hot tub, trying to participate in regular conversation with you. But he couldn’t, not when your tits were sitting right there. He was no longer sure if the sweat dripping down his forehead was from the warm water or the pent up tension.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“I can’t take this anymore,” he groaned.

“Can’t take what?”

Your eyes gleamed, daring him to admit to what they both knew he so desperately needed.

“There is nothing more I want then to sink into your pretty pink pussy right now.”

“So why don’t you?”

It was the first time you had questioned why he refused to have sex with you, and now that you were finally confronting him about it, he found himself at a loss for a reasonable explanation. The line that he thought he was creating by refusing to have sex with you had long ago been blurred to the point of no longer existing. And here you were, with your warm body inches from him, wanting him just as much as he wanted to you and he knew that he was done for.

“Fuck it.”

With that, he pulled you onto his lap, attaching his lips to yours for the three millionth time. He would never tire of your kisses, the way they comforted his soul, and quenched his constant need for your touch. You eagerly responded to him, tongue licking the seam of his lips. As the two of you began to explore each other’s mouths, his hands came up to the string keeping your bikini top together and gave it a quick jerk, letting the scarlet cloth fall from your body. He pulled back and groaned at the sight of your perfect tits, the water around you swishing as he rolled his hips up into yours.

You whined out, “Fuck, baby. Just like that. God, I can’t wait for you to be inside me.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook’s voice was low with lust, “Me neither, baby. You’re gonna be such a good slut for me aren’t you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Even after months of you calling him ‘sir’ in less than professional situations, Jungkook still hadn’t gotten used to it. He felt every inch of his skin tingle with sheer pleasure every time the word fell from your shameless mouth. You whined, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as you pressed down on top of him, just as desperate as he was. He moved from your mouth to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone, where he stopped to take the time to leave a rosy mark that signified you were his and his alone. Once he was satisfied with it, he continued down your chest, taking one of your pretty pink nipples in his mouth, sucking on the hardened bud. You moaned out his name, hips stuttering against his. God, he loved your breasts.

Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, pulling on them to the point of pain. Jungkook didn’t care though. He loved when you showed him just how good he could make you feel. It made him feral. Sure, receiving pleasure was gratifying, but there was nothing quite like watching you squirm from his ministrations.

He reluctantly pulled away from your tits to pull the ties keeping your bikini bottoms intact before discarding the garment in the same manner as your top, leaving you naked on top of him. He took a moment to pull back and admire how beautiful you looked. You sat there as he looked you over, a blush rising to your cheeks. You crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to make yourself less vulnerable to him.

“Oh no baby, don’t hide yourself from me,” he gently pulls your arms away, “you’re too beautiful to stay covered up.”

Your blush intensified. He smiled at you, wrapping his large arms around your body and carrying you out of the hot tub. Your lips reconnected with his as he stumbled his way into the hotel room, tossing you on the king-sized bed.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

His voice was as dark as his eyes. You nodded in response, voice escaping you.

“That’s my baby.”

He pulled off his wet swim trunks before joining you on the bed, where your wet body had begun to soak the sheets. If he had his way, they would be much wetter by the time the night was over. He wasted no time diving into your pussy, lips attaching to your clit, drawing out your sweet moans. His fingers found your entrance, circling it a few times to collecting your slick, before slipping one in. Your back arched at the sensation and Jungkook let out a chuckled against your clit.

Your whines grew higher and he could tell that you were getting close to finishing. After months of exploring your body, he was well acquainted with how to play your pussy like an instrument, conducting your symphony of pleasure. He slipped in a second finger, crooking them upwards in search of the spot he knew would make you scream. When you cried out he knew that he had found it and not five seconds later, you were coming all over his digits.

“Fuck, Kook.”

“I hope you don’t think that we’re done yet,” he growled as his fingers slowed before leaving your sopping cunt, “when I’m through with you, you won’t be able to walk for days. I'll have to carry you to every meeting and explain to them that I fucked you too hard for you to function.”

You clenched around nothing at his words and he mindlessly took his cock in his hands, giving it a few quick strokes.

“You like that don’t you? You would love for the entire world to know how much of a whore you are for my cock.”

“I would. I’m a whore for your cock, please give it to me. I’ve been a good girl.”

Without bothering to warn you, he lined himself up before sinking into you. You both groaned at the feeling of your tight cunt stretching around his cock. After months of dreaming of what your pink walls would feel like around him, he could confirm that the sensation was much better than anything his imagination had conjured.

He started with slow thrusts, trying to give himself time to come off the edge he had already been worked up to. Your legs came to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you. As soon as you had adjusted to his girth, you began to roll your hips up to meet his.

“Go faster.”

“Uh uh, if you want Daddy to go faster, you have to beg like a proper slut.”

It just slipped out. Jungkook knew he had a daddy kink, but it generally stayed repressed deep within after his wife had shamed him for it. But you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, you squeezed him even tighter.

“Please Daddy, please go faster. Fuck my tight pussy.”

He conceded to your wishes, pulling all the way out, before thrusting back in. He set a tireless pace, pounding into you so hard the bed began to shake. He leaned down, meeting your lips in a sloppy kiss. Your teeth clacked together, but Jungkook didn’t care. He just wanted to be as close to you as possible.

He pulled away from your lips and his cock twitched at the visual of the string of saliva connecting your mouths. Without him to silence you, your moans mingling with the sound of skin slapping creating a beautiful symphony for Jungkook’s ears.

He felt himself approach the edge, honing in on his release. Luckily for him, your pussy was tightening around him, signaling that you were close too.

“Fuck, are you gonna cum for me, baby? Are you gonna come around Daddy’s cock like a good girl?”

“Yes Daddy, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-”

Your voice broke off into a high pitched moan as you clenched around him. You threw your head back, hands clawing into his skin. The mix of pain and pleasure sent him over the edge with you. He quickly pulled out before covering your pussy and stomach in white strands. As soon as the waves of ecstasy rescinded, he collapsed on top of you, exhaust claiming his muscles.

He laid there for a minute before hopping up and heading to the bathroom. When he came back out, warm towel in hand, he found you passed out on the soaked sheets. His heart skipped a beat at your blissed-out face and for a moment he wished he could feel as peaceful as you looked. After making sure you were thoroughly clean, he collapsed on the bed next to you. Sleep was quick to come to him, but not before he took you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

A dam had burst. The two of you went at it like rabbits, he would take you any and every way could, whenever he could. He couldn’t get enough of you. He would take you in the back of the limo, in the elevator, empty conference rooms. It was to the point he was sure the entire company knew of your amorous relations, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he thought about was you. Even the fear of disappointing his parents was beginning to diminish. As his feelings for you grew and blossomed, his desire to please anyone else faded into a faint buzz in the background of his mind. You had him whipped.

He knew things were bad when his five year anniversary with his wife rolled around and he didn’t feel a thing when she told him that she wouldn’t be able to be there due to some book tour. Sure, a little part of him was upset that she didn’t care enough to even try to change the tour dates, but he knew that he didn't have a leg to stand on. In fact, he was rather grateful he wouldn’t have to plan some dinner to celebrate a love that had died long ago.

When you heard that he was spending his anniversary alone, you had offered him some company. He felt a twinge of guilt about the idea of having sex with a woman that wasn’t his wife on their anniversary, but not enough to stop him from inviting you over. So there you were, in his foyer, with an overnight bag, a bottle of wine, and a smile that could light up the heavens. He grinned back at you, taking the bottle and leading you into the living room.

“I’ll get us some glasses, yeah?”

“Sure. Do you mind if I change? Work clothes aren’t the most comfortable.”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead. There’s a bathroom down the hall to your left.”

When he returned to the living room with two glasses and a bottle opener, you were curled up on the couch in a tank and shorts. You were flipping through the photography book that he kept on the coffee table. You were so immersed in the pictures that you didn’t notice his presence.

“So whatcha want to do?”

You jumped, startled by the sound of his voice.

“It’s your anniversary, you should decide.”

He placed the opener and the glasses on the table next to the bottle before taking a seat next to you.

“I don’t know. How about we just drink and talk for a bit?” he paused, “Maybe that’s stupid.”

“Nope. Nothing about you is stupid.”

There was your damn smile again. Jungkook hated the way his heart pounded faster because of it. He smiled back at you. It only took a few sips of the merlot before Jungkook had begun to relax. He had been drunk around you plenty of times, but there was something about wine that made him want to pour his entire heart out to you.

He watched as you laughed at your own joke, strands of hair that had fallen loose from your tight ponytail danced on your cheek. The world seemed to slow down a little, time coming to a halt, making the room for him to exist with just you and no one else. It was somewhere in that warm, fuzzy space that the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I think I love you.”

Even the air in the room stilled. You stared at him, eyes wide with shock.

“What?”

You looked like a deer in headlights. Jungkook felt like one.

“Nothing. I was just running my mouth. Don’t mind me. Go back to telling me about this dream bakery of yours.”

Much to his chagrin, you didn’t budge, eyes still fixed on his rigid body. Your surprise had evaporated and you were now looking him up and down as if you were trying to analyze his inner thoughts. You both sat frozen for what felt like ages before you moved to kneel in front of him, taking his shaky hands in yours. When you opened your mouth, your voice was soft, caressing his soul.

“I love you too.”

The world stopped in its tracks. Jungkook swore his heart stopped beating in his chest. And then your lips were on his and even though he had kissed you more times than he could count, this felt different. This felt like the collision of two planets, the implosion of a star. Fireworks weren’t enough to describe the cascade of emotions pouring through him. His hands grasped your cheeks, gently caressing the soft skin. You hummed against his mouth as he pushed you back to lie on the couch, while your legs spread to make room for him between your thighs.

Jungkook swore he felt a tear trickle down his cheek, but he couldn’t tell if it was from you or him. He honestly didn’t care. The woman he had grown to love loved him back. He now knew that you would catch him if he fell. And so he let himself tumble over the precipice he had once been so terrified of. He could finally admit that your embrace was home and that your arms eyes were the safety he never felt. He loved you. You loved him. The stars had aligned.

He trailed his kisses away from your lips and to the crook of your neck where he inhaled. You smelled of the remnants of your perfume mixed with your own personal scent. He swore if he breathed it in enough, he would get high off it. Instead, he placed soft kisses on the delicate skin, before taking it in between his teeth, shamelessly marking you. The whole world would know that you belonged to him, almost as much as he belonged to you.

You moaned as he sucked the bruised skin into his mouth before shifting lower so that his face was right between your breasts. Your flimsy tank top did nothing to stop him from tearing it in two.

“Jesus, Kook,” you groaned as he took in the sight of your braless chest, bare before him.

“What? I can buy you all the tank tops you want. I would buy you the whole world.”

And it was true. If that’s what it would take to make you happy, that’s what he would do. Tears glinted in your eyes at his words before Jungkook ripped a moan out of your mouth when he took a nipple in his. He sucked on it before releasing it with a pop.

“These are the best tits in the world. I love them almost as much as I love you.”

He dove back in taking the neglected breast in his hand, rubbing the nipple. Your hips bucked up into him, desperate for more concrete pleasure than the little he was teasing you with.

“Slow, baby, I’ll get there. Slow.”

You whined in response, head thrown back against the arm of the couch while Jungkook swirled his tongue over you. Even though he was unbelievably hard in his sweats, he found no motivation to do anything about it, his sole focus on you and your pleasure.

He moved to kiss down your stomach. When he reached the hem of your shorts, he pulled them off, before moving to kiss over your lace panties. An obvious wet patch marked the center and Jungkook once again took the time to stop and smell you. The aroma overwhelmed him, driving him mad with carnal lust.

“Fuck baby, your dripping, and I’ve barely touched you yet.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re taking forever. Please baby, I need you.”

And how could he deny you when you were so sweet and all fucked out, just for him. He pulled your soaked panties to the side, groaning at your soaked, pink lips. He dove in, licking one long striped from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit. You bucked against him desperate for more.

In response, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you in place. His tongue found your clit, eliciting angelic moans from you while he drew abstract shapes on your bundle of nerves. Your thighs began to quiver in his grip and he smiled against you. The thought of you coming from just his mouth had his dick twitching in excitement.

“Fuck, Kookie, I’m gonna cum.”

“That’s right baby, cum all over tongue.”

Seconds later, you're soaking his mouth while you writhed in pleasure. But Jungkook didn’t stop. He was too blissed out with his face in your cunt. He would stay like this forever if he could. He pulled one hand away from your thigh, to sneak around to your entrance, a finger slipping inside.

“Oh god, Kook, it’s too much.”

“You can do it, baby. I know you can.”

You looked like you were about to protest before he curled his finger up, hitting your g-spot. You cried out, more slick pouring out of you, if that was possible. He knew that there was a large wet spot staining his ten-thousand-dollar couch, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Slipping another finger in you, he began to flick with his tongue, daring you to come again. It didn’t take long.

“Oh shit, Kook, shit, shit, gonna cum, shit, shit-”

He’s never heard you scream so loud in all the months he’s had the privilege of giving you orgasms. Before he could properly register what was happening, you were squirting all over him. Your hips bucked out of your control as you painted his face with your orgasm. Jungkook swore that if he had any less self-control, he would’ve come all over in his pants.

As you came down from your high, Jungkook scooped you up, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed, giving you a few moments to recover as he stripped himself of his own clothes. You sat up, watching him closely as he slowly revealed himself to you. He was well built, he knew that, but you often told him how much you appreciated his muscles, as if the way you kissed and bit his abs weren’t enough of a clue. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t started working out more just to please you.

But he also knew that he could never step foot in a gym again and you would still love him just as much. That was the difference between you and his wife. You loved him without condition, without the need for him to be someone he wasn’t. His wife had fallen in love with only one version of him, a version that no longer existed.

He joined you on the bed, crawling up between your legs, giving you a soft kiss when he reached your lips. You fell back on the pillows letting him take in your face, your body, you. He bucked up against you, tip rubbing your clit and you let out simultaneous moans.

Just when he was about to slip into you, his phone rang on the bedside table. He groaned, lifting himself up to see who dared to call him when he was about to have sex with the love of his life. A flash of guilt rushed through him when he saw his wife’s name light up the screen. Of course it was her. Despite everything, this was a woman who would keep up appearances until her dying breath. And here he was, about to have sex with another woman in their shared bed. He sighed, swiping to ignore the call, before tossing it back on the table.

This time, he didn’t wait to enter you, thrusting in immediately. He groaned at the feeling of your soft walls encapsulating him. Ever since the first time you had had sex, he had always made sure to use a condom, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that he wasn’t using one now. Being inside you without the extra barrier felt so intrinsically right. In fact, part of him was excited about the idea of going raw and risking getting you pregnant.

“You wanna get me pregnant?”

Your voice was soft and curious. He stilled inside of you,

“Umm…?”

His voice trailed off as he tried to come up with a reasonable response. His brain failed him.

“It’s okay if you do. It’s kinda hot actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind having your kid.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the moan that fell out of his mouth. He thrust softly in you. So many hormones were flooding his brain that he could barely focus on what was happening.

“Well, then I guess it’s my duty to make sure you’re nice and pregnant for me by the end of the night.”

“Yeah, Kookie,” you whined, “give it to me. Want you to cum in me. Want your baby.”

The two of you met in a messy kiss as Jungkook pounded into you, balls slapping your ass. Desperation flooded him, determination to knock you up with his child overriding every other need. He’d never had the desire to get someone pregnant like this before. There was something about you that pulled at all his primal instincts.

You were tightening again, your moans drowning out the sound of skin slapping accentuated by Jungkook’s own grunts. Jungkook himself wasn’t too far from finishing himself, having been on edge since you squirted all over him.

“Fuck baby,” you moaned, “you fuck me so well.”

“Yeah. Are you gonna cum for me? Are you gonna cum so that I can get you pregnant?”

“Yes, fuck, I love yo-”

Your voice faded into a scream as tears rolled down your cheeks as you came for the third time that night. The look on your face triggered Jungkook’s own orgasm. He roared as jets of white cum covered your inner walls. His hips stuttered as he chanted your name. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him deep within you.

He rolled over without pulling out, keeping you tight in his arms.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “hope that did the trick.”

“Yeah? Me too,” he smiled.

You grinned back.

“Are you not gonna pull out?”

“We gotta keep my cum in you so we make sure it does the trick.”

“Okay,” you chuckled.

“What?”

He pouted.

“You’re just cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“Sure...”

He giggled when you rolled your eyes, pressing a peck on your lips. The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the night, wrapped in each other's arms, talking until sleep carried you off into dreamland.

Jungkook woke the next morning before you. He took a moment to admire your face, not believing that you were really all his. He softly kissed your forehead before wiggling his way out of your embrace.

He quietly slipped on a tee and some sweats before making his way to the kitchen where he put on a pot of coffee. While he waited, he checked his phone, expecting to find a voicemail from his wife. He was surprised to find none. He opened the phone app and his stomach dropped. There at the top of his recent calls was a twenty-minute call with her. He must have accidentally answered it. She must have heard everything. Anxiety crept up on him as he began to pace the white kitchen floor. Before he knew what he was doing, the phone was dialing.

“Hello?”

Her voice was groggy.

“Hi.”

His voice quivered.

“What do you want Jungkook?”

“Oh, umm, I’m sorry I guess,” his voice is quiet, “For what you heard.”

“You mean listening to you moan about how you wanted to get your secretary pregnant?”

He cringed at her dripping sarcasm.

“Yeah. That.”

“Don’t be.”

“What?”

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“Jungkook,” she sighed, “I think we both knew something like this was going to happen.”

“Yeah, I guess. But that doesn’t mean that it was okay for me to cheat on you.”

“That’s true.”

They both stay silent for a minute, letting it all sink in.

“I suppose that means this is the end of the road for us then, huh?”

“Yeah, it is. But it’s okay. We weren’t meant to be. All things being said, you sound like you really love her.”

“I do, I really do.”

“And if I’m being honest, I’ve kinda had a thing for my editor for a while.”

“Seokjin?”

He was honestly surprised that he remembered his name.

“Yeah.”

They both laughed.

“We’ll talk when you get back, yeah?”

“Yeah. Goodbye, Jungkook.”

“Goodbye.”

He hung up before leaning against the counter, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. A breath of relief escaped as all the weight he had been carrying for so long fell from his shoulders. It was over. His dead marriage was finished and now he had the rest of his life to love you. He laughed giddily before running to wake you up and tell you the news.

Six months later, he’s on a beach in Jamaica, trying to take a picture of you without you noticing. He’s almost successful, your nose is buried too deep in a paperback you had propped up on your pregnant stomach, but you looked up when you heard the shutter click.

“Jungkook,” you groaned, “I told you not to take pictures of me.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t help it. You're too sexy carrying my baby.”

You rolled your eyes behind your shades.

“Whatever. As long as no one else sees them.”

“Of course, baby. I’m keeping you all to myself.”

You grinned before turning back to your book.

A month after his conversation with his now ex-wife, their divorce had been finalized. He’d simultaneously quit his job as CEO, unafraid of disappointing anyone else at the expense of his happiness. He had made more than enough money to support the two, soon to be three, of you for the rest of your life. Together, you had moved to Jamaica, where you were working on opening a bakery and he had begun a fairly successful photography business. And in three months, the two of you would welcome a beautiful baby girl into the world.

He sighed, overly content with his life. He glanced down to your hand to spot the sparkling diamond on your ring finger. A month ago, he had taken you out on a boat ride where he had asked you to be his wife. You had eagerly accepted.

Now he was blissed out in that island paradise he had dreamed about all those months ago. His stress levels were an all-time low. And, sure, maybe his parents weren’t that happy with him, (all though his mother was over the moon when he announced the impending arrival of a grandchild, finally), but whenever he woke in the morning with you by his side, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. You were his whole world, and he wouldn’t give that up for anything.

masterlist

#ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #bangtanhq #goldenclosetnetwork #heartsforbts #btsgoldnet #houseofddaeng #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #bangtanshadowfamily #bangtanidx #bts #fanfic #jungkook #smut #angst #fluff #ceo

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moonnightyoongi · 3 years

Text

puzzle piece | jk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: angst, angst, ANGST

word count: 1.8k

description: you just seemed to fit like a puzzle piece

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You don’t really remember where or how it started. The desire to love, to be loved. Of course, it is simply human nature, the ancient thought that when you are made you are split in two and you spend your life searching for your other half. Except in this day and age that is a thing of the past for some, they simply spend their life by themselves and they enjoy it. But where does that desire go? Surely it just doesn’t disappear – perhaps theirs gets projected onto the one that comes after them. The double desire to find and be loved. The double desire that eats away at them all night and is quickly put on the back burner during the day when they find a measly distraction. If that’s the case, then you are the one that came after. Growing up you were not deprived of love; your parents loved every bone of you, and you had a fair share of friends who would do anything to see you smile. But it all started when you hit the age of dating, everyone seemed to have it so easy, but you always went for the wrong guy or the guy who loved another or you were simply left alone in the corner of the dance while everyone slowed danced and the teachers watched with hawk eyes to make sure they didn’t get too close. No really. 9th grade, the boy who had asked you conveniently got back with his ex while you went to the toilet, and worst of all you couldn’t go cry in the toilets because you had just come out of them!

All your friends say your time will come. But it’s easy for them to tell you all the cliché things when they had met the perfect partner for them. They were happy and content, living in a world where they don’t need to think about anyone else because they had each other. No dating apps, no more awkward first dates, no more unanswered texts, no late-night cries when you receive the ‘you’re great but…’ texts. Just blissfully unaware of the hell on earth that is dating for people who don’t have it as easy as they do.

Jealousy. It’s hard not to be jealous when you go to their house warmings, or their dinner parties or that one engagement party. It’s hard. Sure, you were happy for them, because at least they weren’t feeling the hell and the social pressure to not be alone for the rest of your life. They don’t get the judgemental looks from the bitchy aunt that definitely didn’t have a rushed marriage when she was your age because she was pregnant (definitely didn’t happen – your cousin was 100% premature).

You hear about love languages and how everyone has a specific one, everyone said they knew yours from a mile away – words of affirmation. ‘You constantly need to hear that someone loves you or that they’re proud or that they haven’t changed their mind. Isn’t it tiring?’. Yes, it was extremely tiring, tiring to be constantly trying to tell yourself that you’re being foolish, and they do still love you and they are proud - yet still having the nagging feeling in the back of your mind that it’s all a lie.

“Any dates lined up?” Yuki asks as she scrolls through her phone.

You sigh and put down your drink, “No. I’m done.”

“You said that year and then met that awful dude that thought he was better than you,” Anastasia chimed in.

“He was better than me,” you reply thinking of the doctor and all his PhD’s. Sure, he was an awful person who liked to bring up just how many he had but he had every right to, he had earnt them.

“Just because he had a few pieces of paper doesn’t mean he’s better than you. You have a personality, he didn’t.” Anastasia scoffs stirring her coffee.

You shrug your shoulders as you look out the window, “He’s engaged now.”

“Poor girl,” Yuki laughs putting down her phone, “Does she have any degrees?”

Yuki and Anastasia laugh at the memory of you introducing your ex and him straight away asking if they had any sort of degree between them. Looking back, it made you feel sick to your stomach, he was so rude, and you were so desperate.

“PhD.” You reply.

“Just the one?!” Yuki exclaims, “Disgusting!”

They both laugh once more as you sat silently staring at the half empty coffee expressionless. It was easy to joke about exes when they weren’t yours.

“Listen, a new guy started at my work and he is so much like you I wanna set you two up,” Anastasia says.

“I don’t know, remember the last set up?” you point out. He was a whole foot smaller than you and at one point you had to help him reach something from the second shelf in the supermarket. Ironically, he didn’t want to meet again because you were too small.

“That was my mistake, I didn’t realise he wanted a 6ft girl,” Anastasia tells you, “Come on! He’s lovely, he’s taller than me and the other day he split coffee down himself.”

“So that means he’s perfect for me?”

“A match made,” she smiles, “Please!”

“I’d just do it; how bad could it be?” Yuki points out as you fumbled with your jumper.

“Getting shouted at in aisle 5 because you couldn’t reach the top shelf bad,” you joke. They both burst out into laughter once more as you sighed and watched the rain fall to the ground outside the coffee shop.

“Fine,” you sigh, “What’s his name?”

“Jungkook,” Anastasia smiles.

~.♥ ~

The lead up to the date was the worst, Anastasia constantly went on about how clumsy he was and how perfect you would be together – her favourite story was him walking into the glass door and simply shaking it off before going into a meeting. With every new story it bought up a sense of hope – but even you knew this was dangerous. For what one thinks is cute and endearing another finds childish and immature. What if he wasn’t as cute and as clumsy as Anastasia constantly explained – what if it was because he saw someone cute in the office and got distracted and he was now using you to make her jealous.

“Stop overthinking,” Yuki demands snapping you out of your thoughts.

“How did you-?”

“I’ve known you far too long. You’re either overthinking or over romanticising.”

You smile sadly before looking back into the mirror and applying some more blush. Maybe it was all the fairy tales growing up that made you this way, or maybe it was the tv shows. Either way they had both set you up for failure.

“Jungkook is on his way to the restaurant. It’s under my name,” Anastasia smiles walking into the room with her phone in hand, “Tae said good luck!”

“So does Jae,” Yuki smiles.

“I need it,” you mutter standing up and fixing your dress, “What do I do if he doesn’t show?”

“He’s on his way,” Anastasia sighs.

“What if he goes to the wrong restaurant?”

“They won’t seat him because my name won’t be on the list of reservations.”

“What if they don’t do reservations?” you challenge.

“You’re annoying me. He’s on his way to the right restaurant where he will give in my name and will be seated waiting for you.”

“But-,”

“Stop! Get in the taxi,” Anastasia shouts cutting you off. You drop your head as you walk down the stairs sheepishly. Anything could happen, you could arrive before him and he could look at you and change his mind. He could arrive before you and when you walk in scream and run out the back entrance. Everything was a possibility.

“Anastasia,” you smile nervously to the hostess.

“This way, your party is waiting for you,” she smiles kindly. Party? How many where here? Did Anastasia set up a conveyer belt to give you your best shot? You don’t think you could handle multiple rejections in one night.

Walking into the dining room you spotted him straight away. He was staring out the window, his leg twitching under the table – so much so he knocked over the pepper. His red face made you flutter and as you got closer the butterflies became more and more active. He was as clumsy as Anastasia had described and a lot cuter than she had as well.

“Your table,” the hostess smiles placing the menu down and walking away.

“Y/N,” Jungkook smiles standing up quickly, “I’m Jungkook!”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you smile pulling the chair out.

“I should have pulled your chair out for you, shouldn’t I?” he wonders aloud.

“No, because if you couldn’t push it back in, I’d probably overheat with embarrassment,” you laugh pulling your chair in and hitting your hip on the table, “Fuck!”

The restaurant stares at you as you held back anymore swearing.

“Very hard table,” Jungkook jokes before they resume, “Are you okay?”

“I’ve got shivers.”

“You’ll have a bruise tomorrow,” he laughs as you finally sit down.

“I bruise so easily; my whole left side will be.”

“My friend is the same, he once caught his ankle on the door and couldn’t wear a shoe for weeks. The whole thing was swollen. He used all the ice in my freezer too,” Jungkook laughs.

“What about the ice in his freezer?”

“We live together so I guess he used all of his too,” he replied.

You laugh loudly as you opened the menu, all the anxiety had melted away when he smiled in your direction.

~.♥ ~

Days had turned into months and months had turned into a year. There was something about him that was so different from everyone you had met before. Nothing you did was ever childish or embarrassing and the same for him. You two just seemed to fit like a puzzle piece. He made you laugh, he made you feel safe, he made sure you knew he loved you. Whether it was by sending you a midday message when you were in work, or whether it was a cheesy video of him kissing the screen. He would bring ramen when you were stressed, and alcohol when it was time to celebrate. You would attend parties together and would spend all night dancing, drinking and laughing. You finally felt happy when attending engagement parties, housewarming parties and everything else that used to fill your social calendar with dread.

It’s just a shame it was all a lie.

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sourwormsaresour · 3 years

Note

Headcanons on the type of pets La Squadra would own?

Holy shit this was too fun to make, especially with giving the pets names.

Sorbet and Gelato have their own Crusty-White-Dog™ that's a Maltese Terrier named Armani. The dog hates and barks nonstop at everything deemed threatening (aka, everyone and particularly the rest of La Squadra) and yet those two will claim she's the sweetest thing in the world. True to her name, they deck her with Armani branded clothes, either specially made dog fashion or they had a DIY done to make it look like an Armani outfit- down to the bright pink leash she wears dripping in the Armani logo. She eats the finest dry kibble and only drinks Ferrarelle Sparkling water; she will know the difference if you switch it up. She's the epitome of "I demand pets but only do so with your eyes" to everyone. Despite loving Sorbet and Gelato the most, she demands all their attention on her and she will cockblock those two if she catches them being affectionate to each other instead. Despite having a nice bed, she always sleeps between the two of them and will whimper if they kick her out of the bedroom so they can get intimate. Those tear-stained eyes always look like they've seen everything, despite being constantly babied by her owners. If Armani could, she would kill everyone.

Risotto, the biggest man in Vento Aureo, has a little Syrian hamster he called Ace. He thought that a pet with a shorter lifespan would allow him the perfect balance of having a pet but not being very attached to it compared to pets that live longer- he was wrong. If you ever come into Risotto's office as he worked, either you are greeted with Ace running around in his green hamster ball, walking around Risotto's desk as he worked, or running in the hamster wheel behind the desk. Ace's tank is an old Aquarium tank Pesci gave to Risotto that is now full of soft bedding, toys, and Risotto frequently cleans it. There are days where Risotto just spends hours watching his hamster walk around the room, eating little treats, and staring at Risotto with its beady eyes. It's gotten to the point where you can't walk into Risotto's office without noticing a lone sunflower seed or piece of bedding on the ground that Risotto didn't notice until you pointed it out. Every time Ace passes from old age, Risotto buys a new Syrian hamster and calls that one Ace. He hasn't kept track of how many hamsters that came and went so far, but treated every one of them as if they were the first Ace. He takes pictures of Ace doing the most relatively boring things and will share them with his members.

Illuso got a Sulphur-crested cockatoo named Scapino as a joke. He thought they didn’t require much attention but later felt bad when he found out that they need specific proper care. He proceeds to care for it as if it was his child. Illuso taught his bird how to speak and swear at people, specifically swearing at Formaggio and occasionally at Ghiaccio. This man will shower his bird with the best treats (expensive nuts, dried fruit, chicken bones) and has a special bar for it to perch on when they're in the shower together. This bird has free reign all over Illuso's place and wears a little anklet thing to verify that it has an owner should it escape. The two of them have spa days together and it’s one of the most wholesome things in the world to witness. Scapino will actually join Illuso on missions too, staying in the mirror world the whole time, and it provides him some comfort from his social anxiety. Sometimes Scapino sits on his shoulder as he walks. Illuso trained it to stay and hide in the mirror world so that it wouldn’t fly away or blow his cover when he’s working. But the bird will fly around in there and will watch anyone that’s getting murked in front of him with no remorse and commenting on it too. Imagine you’re dying in the mirror world and your last moment is this fucking bird looming over you going “night night, motherfucker”. JESUS CHRIST.

Prosciutto used to be on the whole “pets are unnecessary” train but he had considered looking at breeders for the best quality dog. And then one rainy day he found an abandoned Portuguese Water Dog puppy in an alleyway and at Pesci’s insistence took it in. Turns out the puppy was bought by a rich family for their kid but then abandoned when the kid wasn't interested in it anymore. Prosciutto insisted that the dog was going to stay for one night and then sent to the pound first thing in the morning. It's been years now and the little dog is now a big fluffy good boy named Pon Pon. The second biggest chunk of Prosciutto's paycheck is for this dog; I'm talking grooming services with paw-ticures, an all-organic raw diet, the nicest beds that even a human would wish they can sleep on. Pon Pon is properly trained with all the basics and tricks, because Prosciutto doesn't want to deal with a misbehaving dog, but it will use puppy eyes against the old man now and then. He give you the best smiles if you call him a good boy and if you glance at the right time you can see Prosciutto smile for a brief moment. Had he lived longer, he would have made Pon Pon famous on Facebook like Boo the Dog. Prosciutto will also not admit that this dog has helped him get laid a few times, because every person he did bring home always got a kick out of Pon Pon.

Ghiaccio has a pet snake- an albino ball python named Bianco. Ghiaccio was also on the “pets are unnecessary” train too but mainly because he can't stand loud pets (i.e. Illuso and Sorbet and Gelato’s pets). When Risotto suggested he get a snake, Ghiaccio looked into it, researching and meticulously setting up the proper enclosure and found himself going to a local reptile expo to find Bianco for sale. He’s fascinated by his snake to say the least, and would use leftover containers or Tupperware for Bianco to spend more money on proper equipment or food. Ghiaccio is really involved in online reptile forums and frequently debates with people on topics such as the best substrates to use, whether live rodents are better than frozen, ethics of breeding certain species, etc. He often gets worried when Bianco becomes picky and Ghiaccio would spend sleepless nights trying to get his baby to eat. Ghiaccio would walk around with his ball python wrapped around his neck or lets him slither around in his room under supervision but he mostly leaves him alone in the enclosure. There are times where he would claim he has the best, smartest pet and everyone just rolls their eyes like “yes the white fettuccine that got stuck in a toilet paper roll an hour ago is so smart”. But they let him rant about it. It’s kind of cute to say the least.

Pesci is the definition of people whose entire LIVELIHOOD is making his room into an aquarium. His room is full of strictly maintained, cleaned, and decorated tanks full of various types of aquatic animals. I’m talking Dwarf Puffers (Antonio, Portia, Jessica, Bassiano, and Solanio), Albino Gold Axolotls (Moe, Larry, and Curly), Red Ear Sliders (Franco and Ciccio), Clown Fishes (Browser, Mario, Toadstool, and Koopa), Brazilian Sea Horses (Tom and Jerry), a Blue Betta Fish named Valentina in a 30+ gallon aquaponics tank that grows a variety of plants each season- to name a few. He rebuilt his entire room to keep everything running and even had Melone help him set up timers for lighting and temperature control. Pesci will cry if you somehow made the pH level off by 1 or did not care for his animals properly when he’s away. He’ll even lecture you about bad tank setup. He's a prominent member of the aquarium community in Italy and will regularly redecorate each tank to suit the year and mood. This is where he’s spending his cut on the 20 million lira job: caring for his mini aquarium room. He occasionally gives away his pets’ offsprings for extra money (he doesn’t breed but sometimes he ends up having a ton of baby animals he can’t take care of) and would have been a YouTuber for his fish content. Now that I think about it, Pesci reminds me of my mutual @nexter2nd. Please go follow them.

Melone has a Holland Lop bunny and you cannot change my mind. He actually had a pet bunny growing up, another Holland Lop named Echo and Grep, and his current one is named Sudo; all three are named after UNIX commands. He has a large dog crate he diy-ed to be a roomy enclosure in his room for her that he cleans frequently but also allows Sudo free reign of the room when she wants to go out. Because of his job, he makes sure all his wires are covered so his bunny isn't tempted to chew them and watches his bunny diligently whenever she roams around. Easter time is when the denim jacket, pastel bows, and flower crowns come out and Melone makes sure to take a lot of photos. He also housetrained his bunny and taught her a few tricks, similar to how he trained Echo and Grep years ago. Sudo is spoiled in terms of getting a lot of pets, new toys, and feasts on the finest veggies and delicious hay. Melone also makes sure the first thing he teaches his Juniors is to not harm the bunny. Surprisingly, he's against breeding Sudo and has her neutered. This is mainly because he doesn't have the time to breed and raise more bunnies but also he hates the idea of selling the grown bunnies off afterward.

You know that Formaggio has a cat: the little Russian Blue cat named Sweetie Baby. Sweetie Baby was a kitten that he found outside his home. The little thing was the sole survivor of its litter and nearly starving to death, so he took her in thinking he will bring her to the shelter when she recovers; that cat now lets him live in HER apartment rent-free. Despite feeding her cheap dry food and constantly shoving her into bottles, he treats her like a queen otherwise. He will dress her up in little outfits (much to her annoyance) and often would be too aggressively affectionate towards her. Still, there are moments where she would cuddle with him during the later nights and allow him to put on one iced-out bow he just spent a quarter of his paycheck on. Walking to his apartment and even the backdoor of La Squadra’s HQ means carefully walking through the stray cats mewling at your feet, because Formaggio will feed any cat he sees. Initially, Risotto wanted the cats gone, but then he finds out the cats doubled as security when he watched some robber attempting to break in but getting their eyes scratched off instead.

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immortalcoelacanth · 3 years

Text

Between the Walls, Chapter 1: Roommates (Dream SMP fic)

I've noticed there's an unfortunate lack in Borrower AU content, and as that shit is my jam I'm putting forth the content I wish to see into the fandom XD

To quote my friend, "I do not control the hyperfixation"

Word count: 4497

Summary: At first retirement had sounded like an excellent idea. Make a house far away from everyone else, get some peace and quiet, no longer concern himself with the total garbage that was the local government. Nice things, relaxing things.…

But then the scratching in the walls started happening.

Techno groaned as he flopped backwards into his chair, tired eyes staring into the glowing fireplace as he relaxed after his busy day. A day full of building, repairing the damage dealt by the creeper population, and…

A day spent trying to find any signs of his thief.

You see, Techno had assumed that retirement would be an excellent way to unwind from the massive amount of blood that had been shed after L’Manberg went up in smoke, as well as the aggravation he felt towards his sweet, innocent cows being slaughtered and his bunker being raided.

Raided and dismantled thanks to Phil stealing his bookshelves and in turn chunks of the wall.

It was scuffed, horribly scuffed, and left him with one option.

Relocation.

That, combined with the wanted posters Quackity had hung up demanding his capture and subsequent execution after what he had done. Honestly, talk about the biggest character arc for Quackity, going from fearing him to taking an active role in trying to end his life.

Too bad for him that Technoblade never dies.

But still, having to constantly deal with being attacked while no longer having a truly safe and secure base was troublesome, so he had sought out to make a new home far from L’Manberg and all other communities.

The isolation did not scare him, on the contrary he liked having a space all to his own with no worries about socialization or someone bothering him. Besides, Phil could always visit him if he wanted some company.

Fortunately, constructing his new home had taken relatively little time once he had found the best spot for it, and with some help from Phil, moving all the important resources and equally important fixtures of his home had taken even less time.

All in all, Techno had managed to acquire a new sanctuary away from all the plotting and scheming, although he had a feeling someone would try to mess with him at some point, and he had plenty of space to make a brand new vault. He had achieved peace and quiet, and was even in the process of planning on making a turtle farm. Surely all these positive developments would mean he was happy, right?

Well, he would be if it weren’t for the fact that there was a thief rummaging through his home.

It started with small things, like his chests becoming less and less organized over time. Yes, there were moments where he simply chucked whatever useless items were in his inventory into the nearest empty chest, but he would never clutter up chests containing important items, like potions and enchanted books.

So, finding several misplaced items as well as random blocks of dirt and stone, practically pebbles given their size, while also finding certain resources such as wood and leather missing was the first sign of something strange going on.

The next was the odd noises that seemed to come from the walls of his home. Faint scratches that would be inaudible to anyone but himself due to his heightened hearing. It reminded of a rat infestation, and he unconsciously shuddered.

Not due to fear or discomfort, but the sheer amount of work it would take to get rid of a pest infestation. At that point he might as well take his house apart and build elsewhere.

However, despite his suspicions and hypothesis, there was practically no evidence to support. There were, thankfully, no signs of rat activity, or activity from any other pests. No scratches, bite marks, signs of wood decaying, or anything like that. Other than the noise and the strangely messy organization of his chests, there was no sign of the thief.

And he had looked.

Intensely, as best he could. Logic and inductive reasoning had led him to this conclusion. There was a thief, so there had to be signs of this thief somewhere. A lack of footprints meant they must use pearls to get around. The fact that his rarer resources had not been stolen, his potions of strength and enchanted books, meant that his thief was either unconcerned with stealing things of value from him and just wanted to mess with him, or they were a cocky idiot.

… So it was either Ranboo or-

His ears perked up, cutting off his train of thought as he glanced over at the nearby wall. His eyes narrowed and he pushed himself up and out of his chair before striding over to the wall, cape swishing about behind him.

He pressed the side of his head against the wall, eyes closing as he tried to focus on where the sound was coming from. It was here! It had to be! There was something hidden in this very wall. The source of his annoyance, his thief.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Techno readied his axe, and swung it down-

xxxxxxxxxx

There are times where Tommy can’t stop himself from looking in the nearest reflective surface and asking how he managed to fuck things up this bad. It was painful to recall the steps that had led him to this outcome, the signs obvious but he had been too stupid and ignorant to pay them any mind.

Causing trouble was in his blood, something the local borrower community had reluctantly accepted over the years, helped by how eager he was to throw himself into dangerous situations. Something that should have been concerning to the adults who watched them, taught them how to borrow, how to gather items and even hunt in order to survive, but he had learned that lesson at a very, very young age.

The lesson that no one would step in to help him if he was in danger. That he was on his own and had to prove his worth in order to stay, constantly putting his life on the line for the slightest crumb of respect.

To hear someone say that he had done a good job, to be thanked for his hard work instead of always being brushed off and ignored.

Of course, his friendship with Tubbo helped to soothe that constant within him, dulling the sting of rejection while reminding him that there was one person who truly cared about him. One person who would always be there for him, would lift him up when he was down, and jump into any situation to protect him.

Orphans had to stick together, after all.

And it was a good thing they did end up working together as the duo balanced each other out perfectly. Tommy was far more outgoing and blunt, hotheaded being the best word to describe him. He was willing to do whatever he needed, always ready to speak up when he thought there was bullshit going on, and spoke his mind freely.

It was an ironic honesty, a trait that one assumed would help to attract friends but only aided in driving them away.

Meanwhile, Tubbo was much softer in some ways. Much more reserved than Tommy, he was more of a thinker and planner. Nowhere near as comfortable with spontaneous action as his friend, but he had the knowledge and skills to reign in those impulsive actions before things got dangerous.

They were the best of friends, pals to the very end.

Even though they would never see each other again.

And it was all his fault.

Tommy had ruined everything.

The plan had been simple, easy. All he wanted to do was mess up Mrs. Brigsburry’s house. Just a tiny touch of crime and freaking the old bat out.

She deserved so much worse because of that day. The pot that had been thrown at Tubbo and how much blood Tommy had seen running down the side of his face. The bitch’s shrieks and curses as she insulted them over and over again.

Swearing they both should have died with their parents-

How was he supposed to know he accidentally left one of her rags near the lit stove, the fire within causing the piece of fabric to ignite and in turn allowing the flames to spread to the rest of the house.

It was a good thing she lived on the edge of Borrowton, the fires thankfully only burning her home to the ground.

No one wanted to live near an asshole like her.

Tommy, who had been feeling proud of himself, quickly experienced true regret and fear once the meeting started. Shouts, demands, and insults had flown through the air, many of the people he had grown up with insisting that he be tossed out for what he had done, exiled from the only home he had ever known.

It had been terrifying to see how quickly everyone had turned against him, how they refused to give him the chance to defend himself or even explain why he had done what he did. Not even Tubbo had been able to protect him from the crowd’s wrath, his attempts at standing in front of Tommy and blocking him from sight thwarted when one of the adults grabbed his arm and dragged him elsewhere.

He would never be able to forget the haunting sight of Tubbo reaching for him, tears pouring from his eyes as he screamed his name over and over. It was the last time he had seen his friend, too.

And yet, this was not the worst part of his punishment.

He had been given an hour, one measly hour, to pack up everything he had ever owned before being forcefully exiled from Borrowton. The realization of what was happening had slammed into him all at once, leaving Tommy trembling and unable to move.

He was going to lose everything he had ever known, everything he had worked so hard to build, Tubbo-

He was going to lose his Tubbo.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

No amount of begging or pleading had stopped the adults who dragged him to his shoddy, shared home. He had groveled on his hands and knees, promising to change, to do better, to do whatever they wanted if they just let him stay.

Don’t take my Tubbo away. Don’t take him away. I need him, I need him-

Smack!

The harsh sting of his cheek and the painful sensation of his neck snapping back from the force of the slap was enough to snap Tommy out of his trance. He blinked and looked around, feeling all the more disconnected from reality as he noticed the two bags that had been placed beside him.

One for food, and one for clothes and tools.

… He was really getting exiled, wasn’t he?

“You have no one to blame but yourself for this.” The adult beside him grumbled, dragging the stunned teen up to his feet and shoving him towards the door.

“Front gate. Now. And if I find you causing more trouble, you’ll be leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back.” The man sneered.

For a moment that spark of anger rose up in him, rage flowing through his veins and making his fists clench while he ground his teeth together. The urge to lash out, both physically and verbally, was strong, and yet…

As quickly as those feelings emerged, they faded, and Tommy was left feeling hollow and drained. What was the point in fighting back if all he did was get himself into more trouble. It was obvious they weren’t going to change their minds, he would be exiled no matter what, and if he did lash out-

Tubbo screaming his name as he was dragged away, snot and tears flowing down his face. Thrashing and struggling in a futile attempt to reach him.

… The risk, the damage he could do to his friend, was far greater than the satisfaction of breaking the man’s knobby nose. So, with extreme reluctance, Tommy left the house and made his way towards the front gate. The streets were surprisingly empty, he had expected to see a mob of people cheering while watching him leave, maybe even get the occasional bit of dirt thrown his way.

Treated like the trash they thought he was.

His send off lacked all formality. Only the usual guards of the gate were present, and even then they paid him no mind. He was simply shoved towards another borrower, a lady this time who, based on the immense amount of foliage covering her clothes, spent most of her life out in the wild.

God, how would he ever survive out there. Between the wild animals, the shitty weather, and the mobs that would wander the lands when darkness fell, he was doomed.

He had only ever known how to survive in his community, where you could barter for goods and depend on someone to help you. Now he wouldn’t have any of that. There would be no shelter, no safety in numbers-

No Tubbo.

Numb, Tommy was shoved towards the woman and quietly took note of the presence of the animal he could not see before. It was a fox, quite large compared to him and the other borrowers, and domesticated since it wasn’t ripping anyone apart.

… Or maybe it was just waiting until he got outside, then it would rip him to shreds. Wouldn’t want any blood splatters staining the inside of the gate.

He was so absolutely, royally fucked.

“C’mon, we gotta get moving.” The woman barked, grabbing his arm and pushing him towards the fox with little care for his comfort and the fact that she was adding more bruises to his arm. Tommy hissed in pain and rubbed the aching spot while glaring at her.

Everyone in this place was a fucking asshole.

“Alright, alright, chill the fuck out. I’m moving.” Tommy grumbled as, after a moment of hesitance, buried his hands in the animal’s warm fur and climbed up its side. A moment later, the woman jumped up to join him, taking a seat near the fox’s shoulders while Tommy struggled to pull his bags up as well.

Finally, once his meager supplies had joined him, it was time for them to set off. He had nearly been thrown off as the fox stood up, and when the animal sprinted out of the hidden tunnel and into the fading sunlight-

Well, it was a good thing he managed to grab hold of his bags before they were knocked off. He shuddered in the sudden, stinging breeze, and did his best to hunker down into the warm fur below him. He had no idea where they were going, no clue what far away biome he would be abandoned in, and quietly decided to not think about it further. The last thing he wanted to do was to start crying.

… Even if he had been ever since they first left the front gate.

He quickly rubbed at his face, trying to dry the lingering tears so there were less signs as to his degenerating mental state, and instead decided that it would be best to strike up a conversation, something that would help to distract him from what was going on.

Tubbo, Tubbo. He missed Tubbo. He wanted to see Tubbo again-

“Name’s Tommy!” He called out. “What’s yours?”

Silence was his answer.

“... Well fuck you too then.”

Much like the start of their journey, the rest of the trip was silent as the fox ran through various biomes, fields, and forests. On multiple occasions they stopped, the woman gathering some sort of herb every single time.

… Perhaps she was making drugs.

Tommy snorted to himself at the joke, mood lifting just the slightest bit before plummeting back to bedrock. God, he was tired. His body ached from sitting still for so long, as well as the general discomfort from the fox nimbly jumping from cliff to cliff, ducking around trees, and just being an agile shitbag. It was annoying and he hated it.

… Hated the fact that he was getting further and further away from his friend. Hated the fact that the fox could cover far more distance than he could ever hope of traversing on his own, and that the odds of him managing to reunite with Tubbo at some point were growing slimmer with every block they crossed.

Eventually they reached the coldest biome Tommy had experienced yet, ponds covered by ice and snow layering the ground. The snow seemed to muffle their surroundings, the only sounds coming from the snow crunching under the fox’s paws and the animal’s panting as it started to feel the strain of their journey.

And yet, for as desolate as this tundra seemed to be, Tommy spotted something in the distance. A structure that was definitely man made and appeared to be well taken care of, which meant there was someone living there.

Someone he could mooch off of and boost his chance at surviving his exile.

It had been a stroke of pure luck that he had managed to convince the borrower escorting him to change their route, practically begging her to take him to the lit house that was just barely visible through the snow.

The sounds of Tommy sniffling and sobbing since the start of their journey had probably helped to wear down her resolve to take him to wherever he was originally supposed to go.

In the end, she had agreed and directed the fox towards the house. It was interesting to see her previous confidence of navigating the cold tundra diminish the closer they got to their destination, as though she was unsettled by the house.

Strange, but then again she probably thought the same of him and how much of an idiot he was for getting kicked out of somewhere perfectly safe.

Safe aside from the prying eyes, the cruel words and harsh hands. His salvation was Tubbo and their whispered promises. They would leave one day, set out into the world and make their own home.

The moment they arrived at their destination, the woman wasted no time in metaphorically, and literally, kicking him off the fox. He dropped into the freezing snow, landing face first, and pushing himself up seconds later to cough out the chilly substance that had invaded his mouth.

The memory of Tubbo laughing as his snowball hit Tommy in the face, the other teen turning to the side and yelling about how “cold as shit” it was.

“Maybe you should try keeping your mouth shut for once.” Tubbo teased as Tommy, snow still stuck to parts of his face, flipped him off.

“Fuck you.”

Tubbo’s laughter rang out around them, and the teen kept laughing until his face was red and tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

… Damn, it was cold.

Trembling, he stood up just in time to dodge the bags that had been carelessly thrown his way, getting a concussion from one of his tools would definitely be a death sentence in this situation, and he promptly flipped the woman off.

“Oi! Watch where you’re throwing that shit!” He shouted before crouching down to inspect his supplies, quietly relieved that nothing seemed to have been damaged. “Fucking bitch...”

She just rolled her eyes in response to his insults and looked unimpressed as he grumbled, huffed, and got himself organized. No words were exchanged between the duo, no goodbyes or wishes for good luck, just the howling of the winds while the borrower made his way to his new home.

As Tommy had trudged through the too tall snow, he had been oblivious to the way the woman stared at the house, eyes wide with some sort of emotion. Was it fear? Not quite, it was more a combination of dread mixed with reverence, emotions fueled by her knowledge of the being who resided in this place. A whispered phrase floated through the air, much too quiet for him to have heard. It was a simple sentence that made her stance and understanding of the situation clear.

“Blood for the Blood God.”

Then she fled, leaving Tommy alone to deal with whatever fate he had stumbled into by breaking into the house.

And what a house it was.

All pretty and neatly designed, complete with various floors and tons of storage, and even some decorative flowers outside the windows, which meant Tommy had many things to rummage through. The roaring fireplace was an added bonus since the cold was one of the things he had been the most worried about.

Knowing those assholes, they had probably planned to abandon him somewhere in the tundra, leaving him alone and freezing in the cold…

Honestly, all things considered, this was a good place to settle down in. He had basically everything he needed, as well as access to some rarer resources too. It was ideal, practically perfect given how easy it would be to create small, unnoticeable entrances into each chest for him to use to snag items, but there was one downside to his new home.

His roommate.

He was tall, far taller than anyone Tommy had ever seen before, and he looked… weird. Like one of those pig monsters he had heard stories about back in Borrowton. Monsters from hell that craved gold and bloodshed. With his pig-like features, including a set of tusks that poked up from his lower jaw, he was a perfect match for those nightmarish beasts.

… But, they weren’t in hell, and this man seemed to be far less gold and bloodshed obsessed than the stories had said, even with the various scars the borrower had seen littering his body.

It was weird, he was weird, and the weirdness had only increased the more time Tommy spent in the house. Despite his regal attire, consisting of a flowing cape and golden crown, it was obvious that the pig-man was no prince or nobility. Plus there were those shitty reading glasses Tommy had seen him wearing once, stuck together with taping and looking like they were on the verge of breaking again. He was the strangest combination of loud-yet-awkward behaviour, something that the borrower actually related to quite a bit. His roommate was not “normal” and acted how he wanted, whenever he wanted, with little regard to how “improper”, “violent”, or “rude” he was.

Like Tommy…

He found it comforting to know that there was someone else more like him out there, someone else who was unlike everyone in Borrowton, someone else who would know what it felt like to be treated as an outcast, like he did not belong there or anywhere. Stuck in this new place, he did not feel as alone as he originally expected.

He did not consider the possible problems this could cause in the future, of course. Tommy had never the best at planning ahead since that had been Tubbo’s specialty-

But, the positives ended there as he realized that trying to survive in this relatively small, isolated house was going to be far more of a challenge then he had originally anticipated, with his roommate presenting the greatest obstacle to his success. Breaking in had been easy, actually situating himself and building a decent base within the walls of the house was downright impossible in these circumstances. At most he had managed to dig out a shitty hole close to the fireplace where he stashed all his stolen goods.

And even if he wanted to leave, it was impossible thanks to all the snow and how bloody cold this damn biome was!

So, here Tommy was, having essentially trapped himself with some creepy pig guy who owned too many weapons for comfort and was decked out like he was about to fight the whole damn world. Sure, his house was pretty nice, there was tons of food for him to steal and snack on, and the resources were plenty, but he would have rather had anyone else as a roommate in this situation.

At least this guy was in retirement, or whatever that meant.

He let out an annoyed sigh, arms dropping as he allowed his axe to rest against the wooden floor of the passage he had been carving out. While most of the house was made out of concrete, Tommy had focused on carving passages through the wooden supports in order to have a network of tunnels he could easily move around in without being spotted. All in all, it was a good plan, even if it was a massive pain in the ass to make.

It was like every time he started making a tunnel, no matter what time of the day it was, that piggy dipshit would show up and start stalking the walls, looking for him!

… Granted, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to make boar-face all suspicious by messing with his chests, but Tommy needed the resources! And it was pretty funny hearing the surprised sounds the man would make echo through the house.

His trouble making nature might have been the cause for his exile, along with some other bullshit, but that did not mean he would try to suppress it, even if it would be better for him in the long run. That was like asking to stop breathing. It was just a part of him that could only be controlled and never truly stopped.

… He missed Tubbo. He missed him so much and the ache in his chest still had not faded, and he felt all hollow and empty, without purpose-

Unfortunately for the borrower, the world refused to give him a break as he spiraled, his negative emotions distracting him and preventing him from paying attention to his surroundings.

Like the footsteps that were slowly getting closer to his location.

Without warning, the wall beside him cracked and split open, and Tommy let out a terrified shriek. He jumped backwards, dropping his axe in the process as light spilled into the carved out passage.

The now exposed passage.

A passage that had been cracked open by a certain pig man who had clearly been awake instead of asleep like he had assumed. Brilliant red eyes met terrified blue, and Tommy swallowed nervously.

Of course, of fucking course! As if the world didn’t hate him enough as is! Now he had to deal with that pig shithead who’d been tormenting him for days with his stupidly good hearing, preventing him from making any progress in creating his new home.

And of course the second he tried to make a tunnel this bastard just had to appear and ruin everything!

On the plus side, he had not actually done anything yet, although Tommy was certain things would turn south soon based on the axe the man was holding. So, he would live for now, and his shocked state allowed the borrower to make the first move.

“How do,” Tommy greeted, tilting his head to the side and smirking. “You ugly motherfucker.”

If he was going down, he would go down swinging.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Technoblade, holding up a cup containing Tommy: So I found this, anyone wanna trade a book of mending for him- Tommy: *feral screaming intensifies*

#my story #fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp fic #borrower au #dsmp tommy #dsmp techno #dsmp tubbo #mild angst #tw mentions of abuse #borrower!tommy #the lads are orphans #the start of found family #dream smp borrower au #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc fic

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consumedkings-archive · 3 years

Text

THE LAND OF GODS AND DEVILS, a sequel.

—part i.

word count: 6k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, massively canon-divergent, roman gets his own tag because he's a fucking nutso, canon-typical violence, established relationship that might not be the healthiest, age gap, domestic murder family. for this chapter in specific, roman likes to take things to the Extreme (i.e., "i'm going to fucking kms if you say this word one more time") but if you're here i imagine you know exactly what he's about.

notes: it's here! i know that most of my followers and friends on here are my friends through my far cry 5 content, but my return to the fic-writing world was inspired by my first longfic in a decade after watching birds of prey. you could say, perhaps, that i have a Type(TM), given that roman sionis lives rent free in my head forever and always. this is the sequel to my work carry your throne, though i like to think it's fairy user-friendly, especially once we really get into the thick of it.

special thank you goes to my beta and the loml, @starcrier; the first person to ever truly recognize varya for the wretched little beast that she is and love her anyway. thank you for being my beta and for loving my girl!

and, of course, another special thanks goes to @shallow-gravy, @vasiktomis, @faithchel, @tomexraider, and @belorage for being so supportive of my foray out of the far cry fandom and back into one that, in a way, brought me here in the first place!

summary: —by dread things, compelled.

roman sionis is the closest he has ever been to having everything that he wants; a perfect wife, a perfect family, a perfect international black-market arms dealing business signed over to him in its entirety. unfortunately for him, there are people in the world who would prefer to see him without, and that has never been a thing that roman has accepted for himself: being without.

(or: a fic wherein the devil spends his time rebuking sin.)

“If one more person says the word ‘chandelier’ in my presence,” Roman announced, drawing all eyes to him, “I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. Got it?”

There was a brief moment of silence that lapsed before the murmured acquiescence of the workers marked their return to their work. Blowing hot air from his mouth, Roman raked his fingers through his hair and turned back around to where Zsasz was watching him expectantly.

“What?” He demanded. “It’s my wife’s birthday.” Emphasis on the my, not the wife; it was not a favor Roman was doing for Varya, it was something he was doing for himself.

“V told them she wanted it.” Zsasz gestured to the offensive piece of lighting, which continued to haunt Roman’s waking and dreaming hours with its garish crystalline drippings and expensive bulbs. Ever since Varya had found out his fluctuating approval of the chandelier, it had been in and out of the Black Mask Club more times than he could count. Not that he needed to; he could very well put in or rip out a stupid fucking light fixture as many times as he wanted.

“Well.” Roman pulled a glass out from behind the bar, setting it on the top and dropping an ice cube into it. “She does so love to torture me.”

“It's just a—”

“Do you want my fucking guts on the floor, Zsasz? I mean it. Say the word and I’ll do it.”

The blonde regarded him drily. “No, boss.”

“Blood and guts everywhere.” Roman gestured widely with his free hand. “All over the floor. The bar top. You’ll have to clean it up. Maybe wipe down some of the bottles.”

“I won’t say it.”

“I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to get blood out of the carpet.”

Zsasz’s mouth quirked up in a smile. It said, without saying anything at all, no, you don’t. More agreeably, and with the flash of pearly whites and the capped tooth: “Sure.”

Roman poured well over what would have been considered the polite amount of expensive scotch into his glass, capping the bottle and setting it aside. It had been exactly twenty-four hours of making sure the club was perfectly polished and styled for Varya's birthday; though she was shrewd, she was so preoccupied with the twins and the lawyers and overseas business associates that she barely seemed to notice whatever was coming in and out of the Black Mask Club. He didn’t think she’d had a baby nor a phone out of her hands in over two days, and truthfully, it was starting to become tedious. Now that the twins were a little over a year old, they were supposed to be scheduling their honeymoon.

The delay of it hadn’t been a big deal, at the start. But everyday with you feels like my honeymoon, Varya had demurred months before the twins’ arrival, fluttering her lashes and gliding her fingers along the lapel of his jacket—and not even an hour after she’d curtly informed him that any more chatter, while she was nursing a headache, would be met with a swift and efficient extraction of his vocal cords by her own hands. Motherhood was supposed to have domesticated her, Roman thought, and had done the exact opposite; now, she was more assured of her status and power than ever.

So, yes; Varya had been busy, and he was almost certain she’d forgotten her own birthday. Never mind that everything had to be perfect. Never mind that it had to be immaculate. Never mind that Varya had deigned to order a brand new fucking chandelier from the same place they’d gotten one last time, knowing full well that he had made the executive decision to gut the fucking thing and get it out of his club.

“Tell you what, Zsasz,” Roman muttered, taking a swallow of the amber liquid in his glass, “don’t ever get fucking married. You want someone knowing all the shit that pushes your buttons all the time?”

“Maybe you just got a button pusher for a wife.”

Roman grimaced and took another swallow. It was true. “Fuck off.”

The blonde opened his mouth to say something else—and hadn’t he gotten confident in himself too, since Varya had become such a permanent fixture in their life, constantly goading and coercing him to voice his opinion on things, things that normally he would just defer to Roman on—when the doors to the stairwell and the elevator opened.

Eclipsing the doorway was Armazd, Varya’s hand-picked-from-the-batch-of-Russians-left-over-guard. Armazd had to be easily cresting six-foot-five, his dark beard neatly trimmed and peppered with silver, a scar breaking the color of his top lip. Roman had only ever seen the man swathed in dark clothes, like a fucking mourner on parade. His wife had been the one picked to be the twins' nanny, despite the fact that Roman felt like she barely did anything.

Also hand-picked. Thoroughly vetted. Interrogated for hours. No stone left unturned, when it came to Yuli and Ro.

“What are you doing down here?” Roman barked, coming around the side of the bar to make his way across the room. “You’re supposed to be going up and keeping—”

“She is coming down,” Armazd clarified. “In the elevator. Irina called to tell me.”

“Instead of stopping her?”

“She was—”

The elevator dinged in the hallway, and Roman quickly ducked around Armazd and closed the door into the club behind him. As soon as the doors slid open, he planted a smile on his face and closed the distance between himself and his wife.

Nobody would know, looking at Varya, that she not only barely utilized the nanny that they had furiously vetted and now paid handsomely, but that on top of juggling their twins she was actively in the process of getting a massive, international gun-running business signed over in his name. There was not a single hair out of place, not a single crease or rumple in the sapphire-blue silk of her blouse or skirt; the scent of her preferred jasmine perfume followed her like a cloud. She looked as put-together as the day he’d first seen her standing in his club.

And now, he desperately needed her to stay out of it.

“Kitten,” he greeted warmly, his hands—though gloved—immediately scratching the itch by reaching for her; they captured hers to carefully still her procession to the club’s main room. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be busy for hours.”

“Yuliana has been fussing nonstop,” Varya replied, her voice light despite what could only have been an expression of frustration quickly following, “all while I listen to grown men fussing nonstop at me on the phone.”

Roman feigned a sympathetic noise, bringing her hands up to his mouth to kiss them. “We have a nanny, V.”

“You know better than anyone else,” the brunette murmured, brushing her nose against his as their hands dropped, “that she is inconsolable without you.”

He tried not to look too pleased. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Don’t be modest, Romy.”

“Well, I’ll come up, of course.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And console our princess.” Another kiss, to the other corner. “So that you can continue letting grown men fuss at you.”

She beamed at him prettily, and finally they met in the middle for a real kiss—nothing coy, nothing demure, but lingering warm and just between the two of them.

“I love you,” she purred. “Go on, then.”

And then Varya pulled away, as though to go around him and into the club, and Roman blinked rapidly. He had only just caught her around the waist before she could walk in and pulled her in a full one-eighty until she was facing the elevator again.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I was just going to make myself a drink.”

“Encouraging productivity,” Roman replied, hitting the button for the elevator doors to open again. “Ready for all this paperwork to be done, aren’t you? It’s been over a year.”

A year of wading through mafia-esque bureaucracy. A year of listening to Varya say, these things take time. A busy year, to be sure, jam-packed full of things—the biggest wedding in Gotham since its founding, the twins.

A funeral.

Roman tried more and more every day not to think about his (now) brother-in-law’s funeral, the double burial of the only man that might have stood a chance at being loved by Varya more than Roman himself and the only man who had ever been anything like a father figure to her. Family is tedious, he’d wanted to say, brothers and fathers and mothers, the whole lot of them, cut them loose why don’t you? Why should anyone matter to you outside of the twins and I?

Varya glanced at him over her shoulder. “These things take time.”

He rolled his eyes. “Mhm.”

“Not to mention, we were a little busy,” she added, eyes narrowing playfully as he nudged her into the elevator, “you know—having children.”

“And what beautiful children they are.” Roman hit the button without looking, the doors sliding shut behind him.

“Well, how am I supposed to suffer through those phone calls without a stiff drink?”

He quirked a brow upward. “I’ll make you a stiff drink, Mrs. Sionis.”

The brunette propped herself up against the back rail of the elevator as it whirred into motion. The corner of her mouth, painted ruby, curved and her head tilted inquisitively. “Oh?”

“Of course,” he demurred, sidling forward and boxing her in against the wall. “I’ll make you a stiff drink—”

He dropped his head to the slope of her jaw to plant a kiss there.

“—you’ll finish up with the lawyers, and put on the dress I bought you—”

Varya hummed and sighed sweetly.

“—we’ll go out to dinner for your birthday—”

He dropped his hands to her hips, planting a kiss on her temple so that he could rumble, “And we can get to work on baby number three, hm?”

A sweet laugh billowed out of her just as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open to bring to Roman the oh-so-sweet sounds of a caterwauling infant. Over the distressed crying was Irina’s voice, shushing and cooing dulcet words in Russian; he could see her swaying to and fro with a swathe of fabric bundled in her arms.

“I almost forgot about my birthday,” Varya said thoughtfully, completely unrattled by the sound of their daughter’s distress. She stepped out from between him and the elevator wall; Roman fell into step beside her easily, the sound of her heels clipping against the floor enough to draw Irina’s eyes to them.

Roman said, “I know you did,” and did not bother to hide his smugness as he held out his arms for the shrieking baby in Irina’s arms. The redhead regarded him with a sort of weary amusement before she acquiesced; with Yuliana safely in his arms, he watched Varya cross the room to turn the automatic rocker that held their son back on to a slow, lulling pace. The freckled infant babbled happily—ever the quieter of the twins—and as Varya said something to Irina in Russian that inspired the woman to depart to the kitchen, she absently picked up a baby blanket from the couch and wandered over to him.

“Yuli,” she murmured, waving her finger at the already-content infant, tucking the blanket around her “is that all you wanted, hm? Just for your papa to hold you?”

“What else could she want for?” he replied confidently. Soothing Yuliana’s fury had become old-hat for him at this point. And, certainly, it pleased him to know that sometimes, the only thing that would make his daughter stop screaming was being held by him. Not even Varya—who had taken to motherhood like a fish to water—bothered when she was in a fit.

Still, the brunette sighed dreamily, her finger captured by their daughter’s tiny hand before she said, “What a perfect little gem.”

Roman hummed his agreement. “Finishing that call with the lawyers?”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Varya replied. “They’re in a mood today.”

“They’re in a mood every day.” Russians, he thought venomously.

“Yes.” She smiled, flashing pearly teeth at him. “But only today is my birthday.”

She had him there. Still, he was itching for the whole thing to be done—Ilarion had dragged his feet through the process of even drawing up the original contract, which had only been a spit in his face (“You are the only person who gets to fuck Varya Astakhova, that is as exclusive as it gets”) and by the time all of that nasty business had been wrapped up, Ilarion was dead.

Ilarion, and Nikita—leaving only a single living soul to be in charge of the Astakhov empire: Varya herself.

Which, she had expressed time and time again, she had no desire for; not in the public way that her father had done it, and Ilarion after them. She much preferred the clerical work of it all. Paperwork and public relations. Let the men do men’s work, she’d demurred one night, tangled up in their sheets, when he’d asked her what she was going to do with it. I don’t mind. They like me better as their madonna, anyway.

“You know,” she continued, breaking him out of his thoughts as she made her way to the bar cart, pouring herself a drink, “they will like you more if it’s you they’re talking to.”

“I don’t give a fuck if they like me or not,” Roman replied, lifting Yuliana with both of his hands so that he could look at her. “Isn’t that right, princess? Mommy gets to do all the paperwork so that your papa can spend all of his time with you, instead of listening to some dumbfucks bitch and moan on the phone.” He glanced at her. “Well, anyway, since it’s your birthday we can let it slide.”

“Very generous of you.”

“Get dressed, won’t you?” he prompted, depositing his now-content daughter in the mobile swing with her brother. “The table’s been ready for us since noon.”

Varya watched him, dark eyes glittering amusedly. “And why, my darling, did you make the reservation for noon? It’s nearly six now.”

“Because,” he replied, “I wanted to make sure they held it, regardless of how long it took us to get there.”

“Ah.” She lifted her chin a little, lashes fluttering with contentment when he reached up and brushed the hair from her face. “Or else?”

Roman flashed her a grin.

“Or else.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They held the table.

“Good for them,” Roman said as they followed the server out onto the balcony. The table had clearly been refreshed—a new candle, a new vase, a new bucket of ice and bottle of champagne. He’d heard the waitstaff whispering furiously among themselves as they idled in the lobby to be taken to their table; now, settled across from the birthday girl, Roman was content with the way they had squirmed.

“Quicker than the two-hour wait last time,” Varya noted by way of agreement, smoothing her hand along the edge of the tablecloth.

He scoffed. The only reason they had waited in the lobby for two hours was because Varya had asked him to stay for the table she wanted. If it had been his way, they would have left with a bloody warning and gone somewhere else. “I can’t believe I finally convinced you to leave the twins home for a night and we got stuck sitting in that fucking lobby because they gave our table away.”

“In my defense, they are good babies, Romy. Hardly ever cry. Certainly not too much trouble.”

“But there’s two of them,” he replied, “and toting two babies around is a lot of work. All I’m saying is, what’s the point of paying her that much fucking money if we’re just going to—”

The waiter came by the table, clearly a little stressed; the lines of concern on his face were clear as he cleared his throat and said, “Should I come back?”

Varya, perusing the menu: “No, my darling, you may stay. You were saying, Romy?”

“I just don’t know why we’re shoveling money into her bank account for her to be a glorified accent chair in our house rather than a nanny.” Roman gestured to the champagne bottle expectantly. “Open it.”

The waiter did as he asked, having been standing there uncomfortably for a moment during their exchange. As he worked to carefully open the champagne bottle, Roman turned his attention back to Varya; her eyes remained on the menu, absently twisting the engagement and wedding band on her finger back and forth.

There was no way, he thought, that she was putting off getting the business signed over to him on purpose. Surely, there was no way; even when Ilarion was alive, even when she had anticipated no further problems, it had always been, if you’re going to be my romantic partner, it seems only right you’d be my partner in business too, don’t you think? And yet—

And yet, Roman could not push down the strange, hazy doubt that occasionally flickered through his mind. He had always wanted Varya, had always found himself wanting and wanting and wanting more and more often, and Varya had always seemed content to indulge him. There was, it seemed, nothing she enjoyed more than indulging him. One more kiss, one more minute in bed, one more lingering glance across the room. She was the absolute pinacle of his hedonism, in every sense of the word, and had proven time and time again that she would give him anything that he wanted.

The business had always been for her and Ilarion. He wanted it, and told her he did, and she said, you can have it, if you like, but like in all things, there was a slyness about his wife—a cruelty—that he found endearing and dangerous. Dangerous, because it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been on the other end of her cruel nature, playfully poking and unwinding and tugging the thread loose until she had pushed him to the limit.

Something echoed in his head, and he realized that the waiter was asking him what he wanted to eat. Varya had handed the menu over and steepled her fingers, watching him with dark, curious eyes and red painted lips, sooty lashes fluttering. A pretty, painted little snake.

“I’ll take whatever she’s having,” Roman said after a moment, setting his menu aside and returning his attention to the brunette across from him. “Something interesting, kitten?”

“Can I not just appreciate my husband?” Varya demurred. “You’re wearing the suit I like best, after all.”

“It is your birthday. What greater gift is there than me?”

She laughed, delighted by him—as she always was—and took a sip of her champagne. “You were away from me, for a moment.”

He watched her, gauging her carefully. Even I know not to drop my pants when a viper opens its mouth, Bianchi had said, just before Varya had unloaded six rounds into his face and chest less than two feet away from him.

“Just thinking,” is what Roman said finally.

“Hm. A dangerous past time.”

His expression flattened, deadpan. “It’s taken a significant chunk of time to secure your father’s business in my name.”

Something flickered across Varya’s expression. at the word father. “To secure my business,” Varya replied, her voice abrupt and cutting, her eyes narrowed, “in your name.” Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked to be composing herself, like she’d spoken on a knee-jerk reaction rather than with thinking.

Then, glossy and silken again: “You know your patience means the world to me, Romy.”

There was nothing that he loved more than watching her pull back her venom for him. Drumming his fingers against the top of the table, Roman bridled his own irritation to say, mildly, “I’d do anything for you. Even wait...” He made a thoughtful noise. “Over a year to finally take on the responsiblities you wanted handed over to me.”

“Of course.” Varya smiled prettily, absently straightening out her silverware. “And we will speak no more of my father on my birthday, or any day after this.”

He knew what that meant. She phrased it pretty, wrapped it up in silk and velvet and presented it to him as unassuming as a doe, but he knew what that meant. There is my button, she was saying, there is my trip wire. Don’t push it, Roman. The name Nikita had all but been banned in their household, even when funeral arrangements were being made; any time he’d heard one of the lawyers mention her father’s name, there had been a sharp rebuke. Not in my presence, she would tell him later, I do not want to hear that fucking name in my presence.

“At any rate, there is nothing that I want more than for this whole process to be done,” she continued lightly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “It was always what I wanted, you know. Ilya was better suited to be a functional piece of the business; he was the face because he had to be, not because he wanted to be, and I am better suited for the nitpicking and the details. Being the overseer is much more in your circle of talents, Romy.”

Her words assauged something unsettled and prickly in him, the sweep of the pad of her thumb across the back of his hand returning that doubtful monster in his mind back to its slumber. He sighed.

“You’re right,” he acquiesced after a moment, “it is more in my circle of talents.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I always got the impression Ilarion wasn’t happy with it,” he added. “Though you two certainly enjoyed making work of me that first night, didn’t you?”

Varya smiled demurely. “It was never meant to make work of you, only to make a good impression.”

“Hm,” he replied, eyes narrowing playfully, “but you enjoy pushing me, V.”

She looked pleased. She always did, when he remarked on something that felt like he was really seeing her, beneath the glossy veneer. His girl did so love being seen.

“Only,” V demurred, “because you so enjoy reining me in.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Roman brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before relinquishing it and glancing around. He would just have to exercise patience, of which he had the most; patience, modesty, and humility, all excellent qualities that he could participate in at will, at any given time. Without any restraint.

“Did the men get the chandelier installed?” Varya idled, snapping his attention back to her. He narrowed his eyes.

“I told you I didn’t want a chandelier anymore.”

She looked at him across the table, dark doe eyes wide and innocent. “I thought you liked how polished they make the club.”

“No, you little viper,” Roman replied, clicking his tongue, “Paolo has a chandelier in his club, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to have people comparing it.”

“Ah,” she murmured, “the drama of the chandelier goes on.”

“And while we’re at it, might as well gut that one from the estate, too.”

“There’s more than one chandelier in there.”

“Then the men will be busy, won’t they?” He tsked his tongue. “I know you dream about watching me blow my top, V, but I’m making an executive decision on gaudy light fixtures.”

A smile flashed across her expression, pearly teeth and delighted eyes. She sighed, almost dreamily, like there was nothing more that she liked than to be doing this exact thing, and with him.

“Oh, Romy,” the brunette said sweetly, “you are the only thing I dream about.” And then, almost as an after thought: “Gaudy light fixture terrorism included.” She waved her hand to dismiss any protest or rebuttal he might have given her and said, “Now, since it’s my birthday, tell me all of the things you love the most about me.”

Roman sucked his teeth, eyeing her for a moment as he leaned back in the chair. Wicked little thing, waiting to preen and glow under his attention, a feline seeking him out. Her little bout of cruelty before was already forgiven. He said, “We’re going to be here for a while, if I do that.”

“They held the table for over six hours,” Varya demurred, “I’m sure they’ll hold it for as many more as you need.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time they got to the club, Varya was acting as though nothing had happened.

Truthfully, Roman preferred it that way. It just also left a lot of room to wonder—his wife was a talented actress, adept at smoothing his ruffled feathers out and not divulging her own feelings on the matter. And he wouldn’t ask, of course. If Varya wanted to express herself, she would, and had, quite openly in the past.

“I am so happy to be home,” she announced, gliding past the door to the club once Roman had opened it for her. “Do you think the babies are asleep, yet? I always miss putting them...”

Her voice trailed off, pausing a little as she seemed to realize that the club was cloaked in inky darkness, freezing just a few steps past the threshold. Roman let the door swing shut behind him, nudging her forward with a hand at the small of her back. He was met with some resistance; she steeled, stiffening against his insistence, before taking a few steps forward.

He said, barely keeping the delight out of his voice, “You’re holding up the line, V.”

“Roman,” Varya said, her voice pitched oddly soft and tight, “why—?”

The lights flashed on to a loud, unified cheer of Happy Birthday!; the club had been packed with vases of flowers, the tables donned with food and drink, and everyone worth their salt within a fifty-mile radius had made their way there. Not a single thing was out of place—everything exactly where he had instructed it be placed, and not a fucking chandelier in sight.

Roman came around in front of the brunette, grinning. “Happy—”

He stopped. Varya’s expression was not happy, or even surprised; it was something else, something that he couldn’t read, the pupils of her hot-whiskey eyes blown wide and the normally Renaissance-soft lines of her face sharpened and hardened into an expression that was more vicious.

“V?” he asked. Her eyes snapped to him, and for a second she looked the same way she had that night in the loft, her hands drenched in blood and the kitchen knife clutched in her fist with bodies at her feet: like she didn’t recognize him.

It took a heartbeat, but her expression smoothed out and she smiled, almost sheepish—like she’d been caught doing something naughty, instead of being caught being somewhere else. Someone else, more the wolf than the girl.

“The lights,” she explained, hands resting on his chest, “they startled me, is all.”

A frown creased his expression. He brought his hands up to hold her wrists, thumb pressed against her pulse point. It fluttered unsteadily. Unconvinced, Roman pressed, “The lights?”

“Just the lights,” Varya assured him. She tilted her head up and kissed him, one hand departing his jacket to go to the back of his neck—and when she kissed him, he could feel that strange little flicker of energy, like she’d been stamping something out before it could catch, but it still vibrated under her skin.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she disentangled from him and swept around to the crowd of people waiting, beaming prettily and playing at bashfulness, as though she did not enjoy their eyes on her and did not soak their attention up like a flower did sunlight. Whatever had been plaguing her in that moment was now gone, and she was awash with attention and love, thanking people profusely and accepting each hug and cheek-kiss directed her way.

Roman brushed off the odd feeling that she wasn’t being as forthcoming with him as he would have preferred—no secrets anymore, isn’t that what they’d agreed on?—and instead waded into the crowd. Music kicked on overhead; chatter picked up to a warm humming around them; there was nothing else to think about except letting his girl enjoy her birthday celebration.

By the time Varya had made a suitable number of rounds (which tended to verge much higher than one, much to Roman’s chagrin—what tedious work, to share her with everyone else), she had barely sipped the glass of champagne someone had planted in her hand. She circled back to him eventually; like always, there was that pinprick tugging in the cavity of his chest, like they were bound by a single thread that kept them from parting too much and too quickly, and when she drew closer to him again it oozed relief, warm and vibrant, through his ribs.

“Sufficiently loved on?” he asked as she neared, hand reaching up to slide around her waist.

“By them? Certainly.” The brunette’s hand smoothed along his shoulder, the pad of her thumb gliding across the velvet of his jacket. “By you, though, not hardly. Not ever.”

“You are insatiable,” Roman agreed in a rumble. He splayed his fingers against the small of her back, tugging her in closer and brushing their noses together.

“Just for you,” Varya murmured, and the words brushed their lips together just a little—but everything with Varya, like this, felt like almost-kissing, enough to push him to some kind of edge where his stomach twisted and wrenched with want when she added, “And only for you.”

“You know I can’t resist you when you talk like that.”

She laughed, leaning in to set her glass to the side and curl her fingers into his shirt for a kiss; everything for a second felt normal, and good, and right again, the strange way she’d gone-away back in the doorway having disappeared, the dark cloud over her having cleared, her wretchedness from dinner dissipated.

And Roman kissed her, with the sound of the party chatter ringing in his ears, and kissed her with the faint taste of champagne flooding his senses when she parted her lips against his, and kissed her while his hand fisted the fabric of her dress and he managed out in a voice rough with want, “So you’re trying to rile me up.”

“I always,” Varya murmured against his mouth silkily, “want you riled, Romy.”

“Varya?”

A stranger’s voice filtered through the haze—the rose-colored one that usually accompanied Varya saying anything like she wanted him riled up—and Roman felt the irritation spike straight through it. He turned to look at the interruption at the same time that Varya did, only to find a young, handsome blonde standing just a foot away.

Varya said, sounding faint, “Maxim?”

“It has been a while,” the blonde said, and he sounded sheepish. “I called Armazd, asking after you—”

“Sorry,” Roman interjected briskly, fingers still curled—now possessively—into the fabric of Varya’s dress against the dip of her spine, “but who are you?”

His wife started to say, “Romy, this is—” at the same time that the man began, “I am sorry, my name—” and they both stopped at the same time, a strange little silence stretching between them.

“Maxim,” Varya said after a second, turning to look at Roman now. “This is Maxim. He is Artyem’s son.”

Roman stared at her, more to buy himself time than anything; she said the name like he was supposed to know who that was. Artyem, but it didn’t sound familiar. Almost any Russian name sounded like gibberish to him, and if Varya had said it to him, it had been in passing, an afterthought, nothing but a whisper of information passed between them before it was gone again.

Until it did. Until he remembered that the person Varya had thought was her father had actually been Artyem, that she’d poisoned him, let him bleed to death on the carpet while she had mentally checked out of the moment. That she had watched him die, but she had been somewhere else—someplace else, the way Ilarion had described it, very far away where she couldn’t even enjoy what she’d done fully.

And Maxim—golden, and polished, and clean-shaven—looked awfully pleasant for someone whose farther had choked to death on his own blood because of Varya.

“I see,” Roman said, even though he didn’t. His gaze turned to Maxim. “And you’ve—shown up without calling ahead?”

“I have been in Turkey,” Maxim explained, “finishing up some business, and I did not know how to get in touch—”

“Well, you spoke with Armazd, didn’t you?” Roman’s head tilted. “The man practically sleeps in our bed, I imagine he would have been happy to get you in contact with us.”

“Admittedly,” Maxim said, “I wanted it to be a surprise—”

No, Roman thought absently, venomously, that won’t do at all.

“—Varya’s birthday—”

“So you slunk in,” Roman elaborated tartly, “like a little street dog, hm?”

“Maxi,” Varya interjected, fingers absently tracing the stitching on Roman’s jacket, “why don’t you go get a drink and acquaint yourself with our friends? Armazd is just there—you see?”

Maxim’s eyes darted between her and Roman for a minute. He shifted on his feet, tilting and giving a little smile that might have liked abashed if Roman didn’t think he saw a little squirm of self-satisfaction in his gaze. Fucker.

“Of course,” the blonde replied after a moment. “C dnyom razhdyenyem, Varushka.” He took a step forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Varya’s thumbnail dug into the lapel of Roman’s jacket. “Thank you, Maxi.”

Once the blonde had departed, linking up with Armazd in the crowd to get introduced, Roman straightened up from the bar. It was impossible not to stare at this newcomer—he glowed with an easy charisma, flashed bright smiles that were all teeth. Roman hated him already.

“Maxi?” he asked her, eyes narrowed, and Varya sighed. He waited for her to elaborate. Perhaps she’d say they had dated once, perhaps they were literally nothing. That would be ideal, after all. Ships passing in the night.

She said, “We grew up together.”

Even worse. Roman twisted a loose, dark curl of hers around his finger. “And you killed his father.”

“Well—” She paused, mouth pressing into a thin line. “He does not know.”

“He doesn’t—” The notion that she was keeping secrets, and not from him, coiled high and happy in his throat. He tried not to sound too delighted when he said, “V, surely he knows.”

“Surely he does not, that I did it. Only that it happened. And I will keep it that way,” she added firmly, picking up her champagne glass from the bar top. “Maxim was incredibly loyal to my father because Artyem was, but more than that—he was mine and Ilya’s friend. I’m sure he is missing Ilya almost as much as I am.”

“As we all are,” Roman agreed sagely, planting a kiss on her temple in spite of the dry look she gave him. It was hard to tell, to get a read on this Maxim. What was it he’d dragged himself out of the trenches for? Just to fly halfway across the world to wish Varya a happy birthday? Above all things, Roman understood that his wife was a desirable thing, and knowing that he kept her out of the reach of others was part of her appeal—but that much? Could someone who was just a friend want that much?

He continued, “So what is it that Maxim offers to the business, hm?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Varya demurred, which didn’t sound at all like the truth. “Artyem was the one who sent him out on jobs. My father kept things tight around the top, you know. If anyone would know what it was Maxim was up to in Turkey who wasn’t my father or Artyem, it would have been Ilarion.”

“I find it hard to believe you have no idea what your father was using someone for.”

The sound of delighted commentary drew both of their eyes away; Irina had come down, both dark-haired infants in her arms, and was walking them toward Varya and Roman. Murmured remarks on what could only be their cuteness passed throughout the crowd of party-goers.

“I am putting them down for bed,” Irina announced as she approached, “and I know you like to say goodnight.”

“Oh, you are an angel,” Varya murmured, glass set aside once again. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to baby Ro’s cheek. Yuliana babbled, and she sighed dreamily, “Have you ever seen more perfect babies, Roman?”

Perfect babies, a perfect wife; soon, he would even have the perfect grip on Gotham’s neck, throttling it until it was nothing but dust and ash. Soon, but not soon enough; he’d be content when it was just done and settled, when there was nothing else standing between him and everything that he wanted. Varya, and the guns—what an odd thing, to know that a year ago he’d set out for this and it was just falling into his lap.

“Romy?”

“Never,” Roman replied, smiling and glancing back at his wife, reaching and cradling the back of Yuli’s head. “I’ve never seen more perfect babies, V.”

Across the room, Maxim watched them. There was something about it that Roman didn’t like—the way his eyes flickered, the way he looked between the children and Varya, the way their eyes met and he didn’t deflect away. Like he didn’t mind getting caught. Where had he come from? What little shithole had he crawled out of, over a year after Nikita’s death and Ilarion’s death—longer, still, since his father’s death? Hadn’t he wondered what had happened to his father?

What are you doing here, he thought venomously, that you think you can just come in here like nothing? Like I won’t root you out like the little rat you are?

Maxim smiled. It was a polite smile, unassuming kind of smile.

Roman picked up his drink from the counter, taking a heavy swallow. Suddenly, the evening seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of him, no finish line in sight.

Nothing else standing between me and everything I want.

And he was going to keep it that way.

#birds of prey #birds of prey fic #roman sionis x original female character #ch: varya astakhova #ch: roman sionis #ch: victor zsasz #roman sionis/original female character #my writing #fic: the land of gods & devils #me sweating profusely posting this #i am really excited about this though and i want to really really thank everyone who has been supportive of me pursuing this!!!!#creeping up on varya's birthday and also the one year anniversary of CYT making me super emo #<3 <3 <3

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dossi-io · 3 years

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An introduction to DeVita

Do you want to learn all about the AOMG artist DeVita? This article will cover everything you need to know about the third female member to join the labels roster.

The content of this article is also available in video format, embedded at the bottom of this article.

Prelude

In early April of 2020, the Korean hip-hop label AOMG ambiguously announced that a new artist was signing onto the label. This label was grounded by the Korean-American triple-threat; Jay Park, who’s also one of its executives. This is a label with a very organic feel and artist-oriented nature, which stands out compared to many other music labels.

On April 3rd, the label’s official Instagram account posted a video. It was titled, “Who’s The Next AOMG?” where fellow AOMG members talked about this upcoming recruit. They sprinkled small hints and details by sharing their thoughts on the artist without mentioning who.

Around the world, fans immediately began speculating on who this could be. The major consensus was that it had to be the solo artist Lee Hi, due to reporting like this: “AOMG responds ‘nothing is confirmed’ to reports of Lee Hi signing on with the label”

A few other names got thrown in fan speculations like Hanbin (B.I), previous member of IKON, Jvcki Wai, and MOON (문) aka Moon Sujin. This despite a few of these already being signed to other labels.

On April 6th, three days later, the account was updated with a part two. This time dropping more hints, which would exclude many names from fan speculations.

On the 7th of April, the label’s official Instagram account posted a short teaser. The video sported an 80’s retrofuturistic setting, with a woman turned from the camera, dressed in all black, rocking braids, and some glistening high-heels. As it seemed to be a female, some were now certain that it had to be Lee Hi. A small few actually guessed correctly that the one who would be joining AOMG would be Ms DeVita.

Finally on April 9th, it was official! She debuted with the music video, from which the teaser clips was taken from, EVITA!, which accompanied the release of her EP, CRÈME.

What does the name DeVita mean?

The name DeVita, draws inspiration and meaning from two things. Firstly, Eva Perón – also known as Evita – who was Argentina’s former First Lady. When Chloe was learning about Eva’s life, it inspired her to combine “Devil” and “Evita”, thus creating “DeVita”. The name signifies the duality of how both Eva Perón and DeVita could be perceived. Either being a devil, or an angel depending on the eye of the beholder. Secondly, Salvatore Di Vita, a character from Cinema Paradiso, was also a source of inspiration.

An introduction to DeVita

Chloe Cho – now known under the artist name DeVita – was born and raised in South Korea, until the age of eleven. In 2009, she moved to Chicago, where she would learn English.

In 2013, she went back to Korea and participated in the third season of the show; K-pop Star. A talent show, where the “big three” (the three largest music labels in Korea) hosts auditions to find the next big k-pop star. However she didn’t win, therefore neither got signed.

Later on, she returned to Chicago and graduated high school. After reflecting on what she wanted to do next, she decided to make music. In 2014, her pursuit to become an artist brought her to the talent show Kollaboration. On this show, she performed covers and actually ended up being a finalist. Despite her talents, she did not triumph as the winner of the show.

Not letting these losses stop her, she started releasing music on Soundcloud. The earliest release I could find, Halfway Love (Ruff), was from 2016. Her catalogue consisted of both covers and original music.

One day, Kirin, an artist and CEO of the music label 8balltown Records, was introduced to DeVita’s music. He liked what he heard and the two linked up. In May of 2018, WEKEYZ, one of 8balltown’s producer duos released a track titled Sugar. This track featured both DeVita, and the AOMG rapper Ugly Duck. This was the beginning of many collaborations to come.

On August 28th of 2018, just a few months later, AOMG released Sugar (Puff Daehee Mix).

This was a remix done by Puff Daehee, the alter ego of Kirin. Along with this track, it was accompanied by a music video starring Kirin, DeVita, and Ugly Duck. For most people, this was their first time seeing DeVita.

DeVita continued doing features on many songs by Korean artists while creating a little buzz for herself. There’s one notable feature, which could be seen as an important milestone in her career. That is her feature on the track Noise, from AOMG artist Woo Won Jae’s project, titled af.

In a tweet a few days after the release of CRÈME, she shared the significance of this moment.

“I was still making minimum wage working at a restaurant back when Noise dropped- I wrote my part during my shift on the back of this receipt paper. This was about a year and a half ago. A little bit after that I got a call from Pumpkin at 3am Chicago time. He said Jay wanted to meet in Philly in 4 hours. They put me on a plane and the rest is history.”

The phone call she mentioned in her tweet, about Jay wanting to meet, must have been made around September 2018. Jay was performing in Philadelphia at the time. The moment they met in Philadelphia was actually captured through a photo of the two. However, this picture ended up getting removed later on.

Fast forward a few months and Jay had just released his Ask About Me EP. The project focused on a western audience, so he went to the States on a promo run. During his visit, he also met up with DeVita once again, as can be seen here.

Finally, on April 9th, her being signed to AOMG was officially announced and she debuted with her EP titled CRÈME. Her joining AOMG, looked like something that happened pretty naturally. The vast majority of artists she had collaborated on tracks with happened to be AOMG members. Getting comfortable with the AOMG family, likely made the decision to join crystal clear.

Artistically

Just a quick look at her body of work thus far, a majority of it is in English. However, she has no issues singing in Korean, as proven by her feature on Code Kunst’s; Let u in. The tone in her voice has this sort of mixture of many singers, a melting pot of sorts. It reminds me of Audrey Nuna, SAAY, H.E.R, some vocal riffs from Dinah Jane, and at times, just a tiny bit of Ariana Grande.

As an artist, she’s still in the early stages of carving out her own unique sound and style. There’s incredible potential here, but her distinct identity is not completely there yet. I see before me a caterpillar that within a couple years, will transform into a butterfly, with its own identifiable pattern to spread its wings out on.

From what she’s shown so far, I would say she seems most comfortable doing R&B and soul music. However, beyond a quick description I prefer to refrain from categorizing her. Mostly because artists generally feel limited when categorized. More importantly, because we have no idea what she has in store for the future.

Debut EP: CRÈME

CRÈME is DeVita’s “crème de la crème”. She constantly modified the tracklist to present her debut project in a way that held her personal standard; essentially presenting us her best tracks. The result is CRÈME, which consists of five tracks, with a runtime of fourteen minutes altogether.

This EP showcases the fact that she is a competent songwriter, able to write some soulful, emotional ballads. It is completely in English and all the tracks are written by her, telling both life stories of her own and that of others. A majority of the production was handled by her “musical soulmate”; TE RIM, but other notable names, like Code Kunst show up as well.

Tracks:

Movies, introduces the project in a very gentle manner. In the track, DeVita paints a picture of a criminal couple, getting a rush, by committing crimes together. The lyrics feel inspired by movies like Bonnie and Clyde. My initial thoughts were that, for some ears, it could possibly be “too” calm as an opener. It doesn’t demand attention the way EVITA! does. Simply put, it’s not a bad track. I would just have put this track later on in the EP.

EVITA!, is something different compared to what I hear from others in the K-R&B lane. I love the 80’s aesthetic in both the track and music video. Sonically, the nostalgic saxophone riffs, warm lush synth pads, thumping bass line, results in a trip back to the 80s. With this recipe, topped with DeVita’s “current” contemporary soul and R&B voice makes for an interesting combination. The music video had that futuristic 80’s look with the neon colors, and I loved how the guns she played around with looked a lot like the “Needlers” from the Halo franchise. The title is once again just like DeVita’s name, an ode to the controversial Eva Perón. The instrumental was originally used by TE RIM, the producer of the track in 2017. His version has the same title as DeVita’s version and I recommend giving that one a listen as well, as it has a different feel to it. This track was definitely one of the highlights of the EP.

All About You, is a simple yet beautiful piano love ballad. Originating from her own tales of love, her vocals effortlessly capture what she felt during these moments.

1974 Live, is yet another ballad, but this time, with a calm guitar backing, playing a poppier R&B chord progression. DeVita’s voice is given a lot of space to be in the center of the track. As soon as I heard this track I became curious. What was the significance of this year, which would have her title the track as such? My questions were left unanswered… until the EP had marinated a while, when she tweeted: “1974 Live is about Christine Chubbuck”. In case you’re unfamiliar, Christine Chubbuck was a television news reporter, who made history in 1974. She was the first person to commit suicide live on air. According to her mother Christine’s suicide would on paper be due to an unfullfilling personal life. All throughout her life, she had experienced unreciprocated love. With this information tying back to the track, it becomes a lot less ambiguous and reveals a more cohesive narrative.

Show Me, is the final track of the EP, featuring immaculate production from the talented CODE KUNST. The sound is very moody, which fits her voice like a glove. This is my favorite performance on the entire EP, both lyrically and vocally. The lyrics present someone who’s fed up dealing with men, who talk the talk but don’t walk the walk. Now she’s looking for love with someone who’s honest and “real”.

With the project being a year old now, it has already gotten her nominated for both Rookie of the Year along with EVITA being nominated for Best R&B & Soul Track in the 18th iteration of the Korean Music Awards.

A majority of listeners seemed to enjoy the project. Many seem to be in love with her voice judging by the endless amounts of praise she has received, often described as painfully addicting, soothing, smooth, and so on.

I also asked a friend who’s a huge fan of Korean music, especially the hiphop and r&b scene to share her thoughts on the project. Here’s what she said:

"This whole project is empowering, in particular the tracks Show Me and EVITA! DeVita being a new artist, managed to impress me and many more listeners through this EP. As mentioned earlier, empowering lyrics with unique melodies and beats. Especially with the track EVITA! The fact that 1974 Live and EVITA! was referring to, two historically important women, is something that I love. This is one of my favorite EP:s of 2020 and DeVita is now included in my list of favorite artists." @Haonsmom

From what I’ve seen, only a few have been vocal about not really being too fond of the project. Some were left a bit disappointed, as they were expecting more hip-hop and R&B from an AOMG artist. The lack of “danceable” tracks was also a concern to some. Despite these criticisms, one thing was always mentioned; the girl has a beautiful voice and is obviously talented.

After listening to this EP, I hear a lot of potential. Being an EP with just five tracks, it definitely avoids overstaying its welcome. It’s brief enough to allow a listen through the entire project, no matter what you’re doing. My favorite tracks would have to be Show Me and EVITA!, but I found the whole project to be enjoyable. This EP is sprinkled with lovely vocal performances and simple but captivating production. I do still stand by my opinion that Movies would have fit better later in the tracklist if you’re chasing that mainstream ear.

I think the way EVITA! kicks you in the face, demanding attention, would’ve been a better fit as the opening track. In contrast to the other tracks, the energy level is unique, making the placement feel odd as the rest of the tracks have a chill vibe. All in all, this project gave me a taste of the “crème” but left me with a curious yearning for what this chef will whip up for dessert.

Bright future ahead

The addition of more female artists to the AOMG roster was much needed. Hoody was the first and only female member for about four years. This was the case up until late 2019, where she was then joined by sogumm, who had just won AOMG’s audition program called SignHere. Now funnily enough after DeVita, Lee Hi actually did end up officially signing with AOMG on July 22, last year.

Based on what I’ve heard during Devita’s Kollaboration days, she has improved immensely. This topped with her leaving the impression of someone passionate about their craft, bodes well for what's to come. She seems to be someone who'll constantly evolve.

Following an artist, at the early stages of their career, is something that I always find exciting. With such a lovely debut, I cannot wait to see what the future has in store for DeVita.

To view the content of this article in video format simply play the video embedded below.

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Credits:

The first image in article: Original photo, pre-edit from @jinveun

Gif from the Sugar Puff Daehee MV: @moxiepoints

#devita #krnb #jay park #aomg #h1ghrmusic #8balltown #kpop #review #korea #uglyduck #chloe devita #chloe cho #kirin #evita!#crème #moon sujin #khh #korean hip hop #krap

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 4 years

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Falling Together Part III

Author’s Note: Here it is, part 3. Next part will be the last. I just wanted to thank you all for how engaged you’ve been. I’m constantly surprised when people actually like my work. This one is for you guys! As always, please let me know if you wish to be tagged in future works, and I would like to open requests if you have any, just don’t flood me with too many at once!

Part 1, Part 2 Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 3364 Warnings: Angst, language, smut, NSFW Since you had shared a kiss, things began to shift and progress in your marriage. Ivar was rather private when it came to being sentimental, so all of your affections were shared in the privacy of your chambers late into the night. You found yourself going through the motions of the day, the tedium often making you groan as you waited to retire to bed. Not that you would ever consider shirking on your duties as Queen, but you were caught up in an exciting new stage of your relationship with your husband, and it was easy to get lost in the romance of it all.

When she was alive, your mother often told you that marriage progressed like the changing of seasons. She said to be mindful that not all was as warm and bright as a summer's day. You were hovering in a high point with the sun shining and the crops thriving, which meant a cold, blustery front was around the corner to kill everything green and alive. That winter storm came in the revelation of Freydis.

Enough time had passed that you had no longer dwelled on Ivar's previous marriage, and he seemed just as content to not mention it. Such a truth could never be ignored though, and you discovered it without meaning too. It was a conversation overheard, not meant to harm you as you sat at a stool working on your weaving. You had wanted to learn the art practiced by their women, and so you had asked a thrall to instruct you.

Two shield maidens were patrolling through the Great Hall, acting as your guards for the day. They were speaking Norse, unaware that you had been studying the language under Ivar's behest. In return, you had agreed to teach him to read and write in English since he was already fluent in speaking it.

"Queen (Y/N) has been good for the people. She is respectful of the Gods."

"She is still squeamish about live sacrifice, but I agreed, she is a fair leader, and she has made Ivar a more tolerant King."

You smiled while you continued to work the threads. In your mind, you had to live up to your father's example as a ruler, and if you could please the people of the North, then you would continue on the path you had started.

"It has taken a lot for him to regain the trust of the people. They suffered under his brutality because of Freydis. She was never meant to be a Queen, she was of low birth, and selfish ambitions. She was only good for Ivar."

"Good for him until he killed her. Such an end must have been the work of the Gods."

Your hand slipped on the loom, causing the shuttle to tear through the thread, ruining the pattern. The thrall at your side grew alarmed, having heard the discussion as well. It wasn't that she looked surprised by the news, but rather concerned that you had heard it. Did everyone know?

You had assumed Ivar was no longer married to his first wife, even though it was common for his people to be married to more than one woman. In your head, you had come to the decision that he had divorced his first wife, another common practice that Christians wouldn't dare to dream. He had failed to mention that she, this Freydis, was dead, and once more by his hand. While your intuition told you that he had avoided telling you on purpose, you wanted to fall back into denial and believe he had forgotten.

You stood from the bench and began to pace the floor. The small tapestry you had been working on was abandoned, and you sent the thrall to fetch Hvitserk. Your first instinct was to confront Ivar, but you did not want to charge into such history when you would be likely to act out irrationally in fear or anger. Too many of your previous fights had ended because of fervent emotions, and you wanted to be tactful. Isn't that what a good Queen would do, and a wife?

"(Y/N)," Hvitserk said, poking his head in around the corner.

"Oh hello," You said, startled out of your thoughts by his arrival. "Please, come in."

Hvitserk's eyes flitted over you, and his face grew pensive. "What's wrong?"

You rubbed your hand down your neck, figuring you must have shown your worry. You never were good at lying. Might as well just come out and say it. "Did Ivar murder his first wife?"

He tried to hide the shock on his face from the question, but you had caught it. "Who told you?"

"Does it matter?"

"If someone is trying to come between you and my brother, yes," Hvitserk remarked. He appeared bothered, and the tension in his shoulders made you anxious.

"No, it's nothing like that. I overheard something, and I had to find out the truth myself," You explained, trying to calm down your brother-in-law. "It's true, isn't it?"

"Yes," Hvitserk admitted. He was watching you with concern. "Don't you want to know why?"

"Yes...no, I mean not from you. I just had to confirm for myself before I went and accused Ivar of something so horrible." You fell onto the bench by the loom and held your head in your hands. "I don't understand how he could."

"Freydis, that was her name, she wasn't a good person," said Hvitserk, coming down to kneel before you. He was gentle as he pried your hands away from your face.

"Hvitserk," You started in with a sigh.

"Just listen, please. You should talk to Ivar, but trust me when I say, I knew the woman. She used manipulation and any opportunity available to further her position. I'm not saying that she deserved what she got, or that you should just forgive Ivar, but she hurt him. My brother has always reacted out of anger when betrayed, so I guess I wasn't surprised to learn it ended the way it did."

"Am I in danger, that is, would he ever hurt me?" You barely recognized your voice with how small it had become.

"No," Hvitserk said, and his conviction eased your quivering nerves. "For one thing, you could never be so vindictive as to hurt him purposefully. I think he finds more fault in himself now, and would probably leave you before he could ever lay a hand on you."

You tried to imagine yourself in Ivar's position. A lot of what Hvitserk said made sense, especially when you considered how emotional your husband could be. He had a sharp mind, but that didn't mean he wasn't ruled by his heart, at least on some matters. When he had accused you of seeing another man, he had spoken from a place of hurt.

"I need to talk with him," You decided.

"Do you want me to go find him?" Hvitserk asked, taking a step back towards the entryway.

"No, I don't want him to feel as if I'm ambushing him with these questions. It can wait until later, the truth isn't going to change."

Hvitserk nodded, but he appeared to still have things on his mind. "What will you do?"

"What do you mean?" You frowned.

"You won't leave him because of this, will you?"

"No," You were surprised with how easy the answer came to you, but you knew it to be true. You were a daughter to a King, and you had lived through wars, disease, and famine. It would take more than a slave Queen to rattle your resolve.

Hvitserk breathed out in relief. "Good, because our people love you, and I think my brother is starting to as well."

"Hvitserk," You admonished him for causing you to flush pink to the tips of your ears. "That's not something you should be telling me."

He laughed. "I knew there was something of a shy Christian in you."

You rolled your eyes before sending him on his way. Even after you were alone, your heart continued to thunder in your chest as you considered Ivar's feelings. If his fondness for you had grown, then you hoped the discussion of his first wife wouldn't result in it halting. Hvitserk's words had excited you because you knew that your affections for Ivar had developed as well. You didn't want something else to come between you, but you knew you couldn't lie and forget the issue either.

You headed for your chambers in search of your growing hound. No longer was he the small bundle that Ivar had gifted to you. He was at a lumbering height, and he seemed to knock into everything, including your husband. You worried he would send Ivar to the ground one of these days. His name was Dáire, and you were sure he would make a better pet than a guard dog. That was what you needed right now, to calm your mind, and sink your fingers into his fur as you waited for night to come.

ooOOoo

Ivar felt uneasy as he pushed himself forward to his chambers. He was feeling more alone than he could recall in a long time. You had not joined him to eat in the Hall, and Hvitserk had disappeared early in the afternoon and had not made a reappearance. His instincts to sense when something was amiss were flaring, and his mood had darkened to pitch.

He didn't know when it had happened, but he had become dependent on your company. Whether it was your opinion on a ruling call, or just to hear you speak about something trivial, he had become entranced by your voice. You were an apparent absence when not at his side, and he would demand to know why you were avoiding him.

Some of the anger he had pent up released from him, as steam would from a geyser when he came upon your chambers. He found you lying in the center of the bed, and that menace of a dog was sprawled beside you. Ivar huffed. Not only would the furs smell like that ungainly creature now, but you were also holding the animal tight in your embrace. It should have been him, or so his callow thoughts told him anyway.

Dáire raised his head and gave Ivar a look that felt like a challenge. He regretted giving you that overgrown bovine the moment it grew into the habit of flopping down on your lap for pets. Ivar growled at the beast, and that's when he noticed you smiling with your eyes still closed.

"Stop asserting dominance over the dog," You grumbled.

"He provokes me every time I find him in my bed."

Your eyes shot open, and you gave him an incredulous look. "Alright Dáire, time to go. You've made my husband jealous."

Ivar watched as you led the dog by the neck to his corner of the room. He was relieved to find you in a teasing mood, it eased some of his earlier doubts. He moved over to the bed, slipping down slowly before getting to work on removing his braces. You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a familiar gesture.

"You missed supper," Ivar commented as he held one of your hands in his. You had long fingers, but they were thin like spindles compared to his broad palms.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just had little appetite I guess."

You rested your chin on his shoulder, and Ivar inclined his head to gaze at you through his peripheral. "Are you unwell?"

You swung around until you were straddling his lap. He had never seen such fluidity come from you, and you were mindful not to rest on his legs with your whole weight. For Ivar, he felt a little dumb when his hands hesitated to touch you. He had to remind himself that you were his wife, and you did not flinch from him as he rested his grasp on a handful of your hips.

"I am well," You assured with a smile. "But I do have to ask you something, and it is of a sensitive nature."

Ivar immediately tensed, and his mind wandered to every foul thing he could conjure. "What is it?"

You had lost any cheer in your face, now a mask of uncertainty tainting you. Taking a breath, you looked him in the eye while settling your hands on his chest. "Why did you kill Freydis?"

You seemed to regret asking the moment the words left your tongue. Ivar knew he must have appeared furious, but there was no going back now that the question had been asked. His grip on you tightened, and he wanted to throw you to the side and escape. It would seem you had already thought of that first and had picked your position for just such a reaction. You collapsed the rest of your weight down, forcing him to fall flat on his back with you above.

"How do you know her name? Was it Hvitserk?" He hissed.

"No, I only confirmed what I heard with him. It was never meant for me to overhear, but it's done now," You hurried to explain.

His brother's disappearing act now had an explanation. Hvitserk never was good at keeping things from him, and his face would have tipped him off.

"She's dead, what more do you need than that?"

"She was important to you Ivar, and you're important to me now. Please, I deserve to hear the truth from you," You pleaded.

Ivar felt his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. Whether they were for Freydis, or for your display of care, he wasn't certain.

"She pretended to love me," He said, and his voice wavered like a limp flag caught up in a breeze. "I lost Kattegat because she went to my brother Bjorn, and passed along information that ensured he was able to win back the city."

"So treason then? Any wife of a King would be sentenced to death for such an offense. You aren't the first man to have to execute a traitorous Queen."

"It was not a public execution, I strangled her while we were alone," He told you, and you shrank back in fear. It had been his intention to scare you. You were gazing at him with such understanding, and he didn't deserve your kindness. "She had a child with another man, that she tried to pass off as mine. And I would have let her, but he was born cursed like me. Punishment by the Gods for her lies. I took him into the wild, and I let him die."

At this point you had moved away from him to the head of the bed, hands clasped together as you held your knees to your chest. You had a troubled look, but your eyes returned to his face. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You deserved to hear this, and know what man your father married you to."

"I know what man I've married," You said, your body relaxing, and you began your way back over to him. "The things Freydis did would have resulted in her death by any King. I can't say whether your decision to murder her by strangling was the correct one, but that was before my time with you. I don't have to forgive you for that, you have to forgive yourself."

"Mercy is a weakness you know," He said, turning to you as you sat beside him.

"So is self-pity, but you're too clever to fall into that trap, right husband?"

Ivar's heart swelled with pride as he watched you. The things he had done had horrified you, but you had the bravery of Thor to call him out for his faults. You were foolish and lovely, and he was half in love with you then as he brought his hand to the back of your head, forcing your mouth to his. You let out a sigh, and your fingers splayed out on his chest. Ivar could feel the pressure you applied, trying to ease him back to slow down, but his need for you could not be contained.

He forced you down on the bed, allowing all of his weight to come down on you. The strain between his legs was a pain he'd never felt before, and he was rutting at your center to feel the friction.

You broke away from the violent kiss, your lips swollen and red while your hands shook at the waist of his pants. He helped you force them down to his thighs, his cock springing free, hard and pulsing with need. You threw up your white skirts, and your legs trembled on either side of his hips as he brought his member to your folds. The patch of curls was damp, and Ivar plunged into your moist heat until he was buried to the hilt. You let out a sharp cry, tears springing to your eyes at the abrupt intrusion.

"I'm sorry...I’m sorry," Ivar continued to pant into your shoulder, his arms shaking as he supported himself above you.

"Don't stop. I want this," You told him, even as he caused you pain.

He couldn't hold back anymore, and with your permission, he began to move. The pace he set was brutal, hips snapping quick and hard into you as he fucked you into the mattress. You held onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his flesh while letting out the occasional whine. Seeing his cock disappear into you over and over had him racing towards his end, and the blood that tinged your thighs gave him a sense of ownership. You were his now, in every way a husband and wife belonged to one another.

"I can't--I can't stop," He groaned, knowing his end was near.

"It's alright," You told him, your hands smoothing down his back.

Feeling every bit as virginal as you, he finished much too soon. His seed spilled inside you, and Ivar collapsed half on top of you, trying at the last moment to spare you of his weight. You both were breathing hard, and he felt himself tremble as he slowly removed his softened member from inside your cunt. Some of his seed trickled out onto your thigh, and Ivar felt embarrassed he had left you in such a mess.

"That wasn't good for you, you didn't finish," He grumbled, staring up at the ceiling.

"Ladies rarely do, the first time," You said, still short of breath, but with a look of contentment. "But I enjoyed myself, and we'll learn to please each other together."

You rose from the bed to clean yourself, and your look of discomfort did not go unnoticed by him. He tucked himself back into his trousers and sat up. "I've hurt you."

"Not intentionally. I expected a little roughness having a heathen for a husband," You teased, and Ivar was baffled by your glowing cheeks. "You act as if you've never lain with a virgin before."

Ivar's head flopped back onto the pillow as he thought of his demeaning trysts of the past. Margrethe had not been a virgin, and he never had been able to consummate his union with Freydis.

"I am your first," You remarked with realization, and you joined him in the bed, spreading out on top of his chest. "Don't I feel special."

Ivar let out a grunt as he wrapped you up in his arms. You were warm, and your heart had settled at a slower pace. He toyed with the ends of your hair, losing the time as he wandered in and out of his own thoughts. You weren't just special to him, you were everything. His future as King was secured with you at his side. It was an idea he had almost given up on until your father had given you to him the day of your wedding. You were a gift, a Queen, a wife, and a friend, and you would have his heart until he parted from this earth to Valhalla.

@peachyboneless

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@pieces-by-me

@rastakami23

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#vikings #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar x you #ivar the boneless x reader #vikings imagine #ivar angst #ivar fic #history vikings #ivar imagine #ivar ragnarsson imagine #ivar smut

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yaimlight · 3 years

Text

Rating : 18+

Summary : Bakugou, Todoroki and reader have a bit of fun whilst the boys are supposed to be on duty.

Series : Twos Company, Threes a Crowd

Cross post on AO3. Find me under LokiLover89

“Thank you!” The young girl called as she ran away back to her friends, waving enthusiastically as she went. Sighing Shoto offered her a small awkward wave in return, the action causing her group of friends to burst into giggles. “Fucking finally. I thought they would never leave” Katsuki grumbled next him and Shoto had to agree. He knew that a large chunk of hero work was interacting with the public and building their image but he really could do without the seemingly constant stream of people demanding photos and his attention, snapping image after image as if he didn’t have anything better to do with his time.

He and Katsuki had just spent the last twenty minutes with the group of girls that couldn’t be no more than a year or two younger than them, taking photo after photo with them in various poses and positions until they were satisfied. He was surprised Katsuki hadn’t snapped at them, demanding they get lost but after he tanked two points in the last hero ranking Shoto assumed he was probably trying to improve his image somewhat, though he may be regretting that decision now. Shoto had come close a couple of times though, growing impatient and wanting to just get on with his job. Not that there had been much of that to do tonight. All the villains and criminals seemingly deterred by the cold November night and the threat of snow that hung over the city.

Now the group of girls had moved on the street had fallen quite, not many people still out this close to midnight and that was how Shoto liked it. He was always suspicious of people wondering around in the middle of the night, especially now that most places were closing down. “Fuck its cold” Katsuki grumbled.

Shoto turned his head slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow as the other man rubbed at his arms. He looked good in his winter costume, the fabric pulled tight across him and clinging to all his muscles. He had ditched the normal black and orange tank top in favour of a black long sleeved top. It still had the orange x across the chest but it now had two orange bands wrapped around his biceps that seemed to make the muscles look bigger. His collar was high, the black fabric covering the bottom half of his face so Shoto couldn’t see the permanent scowl of his plush lips.

“What?” Katsuki growled, turning to glare at Shoto. He had be caught starring and if it had been anyone else Shoto would feel embarrassed but this had happened enough times now that neither of them cared much and even if he did deny it Shoto knew Katsuki liked the attention. Shrugging slightly Shoto turned back, looking at the street ahead of them as they continued on their patrol. “I thought your new suit had heaters built in”. He knew it did, Y/N wouldn’t stop gushing about how warm he was and was constantly cuddling up to him. Not that Shoto was jealous or anything.

“Don’t change the fact it’s fucking cold” the blonde grumbled and Shoto’s lips quirked into a soft smile. Shoto didn’t mind the cold, being able to regulate his temperature with the different aspects of his quirk but Katsuki hatted it. He said it interfered with his quirk, the cold making it impossible for him to get the sweat he needed to use it and Shoto knew that much was true but it didn’t hide the fact that he would bury himself under a mounting of blankets at home, his scowling eyes and blonde spike sticking out. It was adorable but Shoto would never say that to the other man, not wanting to end up with an explosive hand in his face.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, both of them watching their surroundings. The streets were mostly empty though and the few people they did see were too preoccupied in their own lives to bother the heroes and that was fine. The rumble of traffic was low and as they turned the corner onto a new street the faint hum of idle chatter died off and they were plunged into almost silence.

Katsuki’s phone chimed loudly for what felt like the hundredth time this evening and Katsuki cursed, yanking the thing from one of his many pockets. He yanked a glove off, hissing as it was exposed to the cold air. Shoto continued on, expecting the other man to follow along behind him like he had done every other time this phone had gone off tonight but when Shoto couldn’t hear his steady footsteps any more he stopped, turning to find the other man a few steps behind. He was stood still, staring down at his phone and Shoto knew he was frowning just from furrow between his brows. “What’s wrong?” He called out, taking a step back towards Katsuki, concerned as to what had him suddenly stopping.

Shoto’s words seemed to jerk him back to reality, Katsuki’s head snapping up to look at him with wide eyes. He looked startled and Shoto could see a light blush just underneath his mask but it was hard to tell if it was from the text or the cold. “It’s nothing” he rushed out quickly. Shoto frowned, tipping his head slightly and his brow drawn down in confusion. It clearly wasn’t nothing if the other man was acting so cagey all of a sudden. Shoto hadn’t said anything every other time Katsuki had revived a message but this one felt different somehow and Shoto wanted to know why.

Katsuki seemed to regain his composure, shrugging his shoulders and turning his attention back to his phone. “Just Kirishima checking to make sure him and the shitty extras are still allowed over Friday” he said offhandedly, sending off a quick text before shoving his phone back into its designated pocket. Shoto highly doubted that was true but Katsuki didn’t have any reason to lie to him, yet it definitely felt like that was what was going on and he didn’t like it. “A little late for him isn’t it?” Shoto said, his tone questioning with a hint of suspicion. He knew for a fact that the redhead was on early shifts this week because he had swapped with Ochaco so she could go wedding dress shopping with Momo.

Katsuki must know he had been caught out in his odd little lie because he wouldn’t meet Shoto’s eyes. Instead he was scowling, eyes darting around his surroundings as if he was looking for something in particular. “Yeah. Look I’m fucking freezing my dick off here. I’m gonna go grab a hot drink from that shitty stand back there. You want anything?” Katsuki said gruffly, finally looking at Shoto with his normal perpetual glare. His red eyes were piercing and Shoto felt pinned beneath them.

Still confused Shoto shook his head, offering the other man a ‘no’ as answer. The blonde grumbled something under his breath but Shoto couldn’t work out what it was apart from the odd curse word. “Stay here” Katsuki yelled at him over his shoulder as he stomped back the way they had come, still grumbling about something under his breath. Shoto watched him go until he disappeared around the corner, leaving him alone on the quite street. Well that had been odd and sudden.

Sighing Shoto rubbed at his eyes. Katsuki had been acting odd all evening, almost texting constantly for the past hour. That in its self was strange, normally he would shut his phone onto silent and ignore it until patrol was over then proceed to bitch and moan about the amount of unanswered messages he had from his friends. There was only one person Shoto could think off who Katsuki would answer straight away but she was supposed to be knee deep in a new project at Takahashi Enterprises with Hatsume and she never normally bothered either of them when they were working anyway. It was the only thing Shoto could think of though and it stung a little that she would be so focused all her attention on Katsuki instead of engaging them both on their shared chat.

A small thud and the sound of glass rattling had Shoto’s head snapping to the side, his eyes narrowing as he looked down the alleyway he had stopped in front of. The street lights only just illuminated the mouth of the alley, maybe a few feet but after that it was just shadows. He waited, staring into the darkness, expecting something to come charging out at him but when nothing did Shoto shrugged, assuming it must have been just a stray cat or something.

Turning back round Shoto huffed, glaring in the direction Katsuki had gone. What was taking him so long? The stand was only about a minute or two back the way they had come and Katsuki should have been back by now, his large hands wrapped around a stupidly oversized cup of coffee and with a content smile of his face. If the coffee was good enough Shoto may even be able to convince Katsuki to share it, the blonde grumbling as he handed it over like he wasn’t smiling behind his collar.

A loud crash had Shoto whipping back round, everything on alert as he stared into the darkened alleyway. That sounded a lot bigger than a cat and Shoto wouldn’t be doing his job if he didn’t go and investigate. He should probably wait for Katsuki to get back but Shoto was confident enough that he would be able to handle himself for a minute or two. Tentatively he stepped forward, left hand raised and fire dancing to life in his palm. He kept his footsteps light as he slowly ventured further into the darkened alley, his eyes darting around as he looked for any sign of threat.

His fire provided sufficient enough light for him to see but the flickering flames made the shadows seem to almost dance, giving the appearance of someone moving around him. The alley was small, wedged between two tall buildings that seemed to be using it as a dumping ground and Shoto was having to carefully make his way round broken bottles and rubbish bins. There were no windows looking down into the alley, no cameras either that he could see unless they were high up on the walls but even then it was too dark for them to capture anything. It was a good spot for an ambush and he probably shouldn’t have come down here by himself.

He was just about to turn back when movement just on the edge of his ring of light caught his attention. That was defiantly something, a person shaped something. “Who’s there?” Shoto called out into the darkness, stopping where he was to search the shadows for any sign of movement. Silence greeted him, the air around him feeling incredibly still. Shoto’s skin was prickled the distinct feeling of being watched making him uncomfortable. He was far enough away from the main street now that Katsuki would not be able to easily hear him if he called out.

Suddenly a light flickered on toward the end of the alley and Shoto spun to face it, the flame in his hand growing. It looked to be some sort of security light but there was no door or anything that would warrant one being there. The space was empty the person who had set it off seeming to have melted into the shadows. Shoto got the distinct impression he was being toyed with and he didn’t like it. “Show yourself” he called, his voice tinged with anger as he took a few steps forward towards the pool of light.

He toyed with the idea of setting off a large spurt of fire, sending it hurtling into the darkness to flush out whoever was hiding but he couldn’t chance it. He didn’t know what kind of crap had been stored down here and didn’t want to start a building fire, nor did he want to potentially kill whoever was screwing with him. Maim maybe but kill, not so much.

The hairs of the back of his neck stood on end at the sound of gentle laughter behind him and Shot was turning quickly, arm raised and ready to blast someone in the face only to find no one there. His heart was racing, his eyes darting around the shadows that seemed to be getting darker, pushing in on him until everything outside of his ring of fire light was pure darkness. This was bad, very bad. Shouto couldn’t tell what way he had come from, couldn’t even see the night sky above him. He felt trapped, cut off from the possibility of help. All he could do was hope that Katsuki would activate Shoto’s tracker when he wasn’t where he had left him and come to his aid.

The air behind him shifted and Shoto held his breath as a hand curled around his shoulder. In one quick move he turned, knocking the hand away from him and shoving the person back with a shoulder to the chest, the person grunting in pain. He wrapped his ice coved hand around their neck and pushed them back, pinning them against the wall, his left hand level with their face and the ball of fire pulsing in his hand.

“Love it when you throw me around like that, gets me all tingly”. Shoto jerked back at the familiar voice, his grip on his attacker’s neck lessening. Suddenly the world around them shimmered and the shadows vanished, everything else coming back into focus with a jarring burst of colour. Y/N smiled up at him, head tipped to the side slightly and eyes sparkling with mischief. They were stood under the security light, Shoto practically plastered against her as he used his body to keep her pinned against the wall.

He quickly stepped back, flames dying and ice melting as he realised what he was doing. She lifted a delicate hand, rubbing gently at her neck and never taking her eyes off of him. Shoto ran a shaky hand through his hair, his body humming with adrenaline from the fight he had been expecting. It wasn’t the first time he had her pinned against a wall, his quirks bursting to life but that had been during sparring and she had been giving as good as she got not during some weird shadow attack thing.

Frowning Shoto turned his full attention back to the women, narrowing his eyes at her. “Was all that you?” It had too of been, it was the only explanation for it all suddenly stopping when she had made herself known. Her smile widened as she shrugged dismissively. “You looked bored so I thought I would bring you a little excitement. Get your blood pumping”. She dragged her eyes down his body as she spoke, biting down on her lip as he eyes lingered on his crotch.

Frowning Shoto crossed his arms over his chest. She was lucky he hadn’t seriously hurt her and sure he knew that she would heal but that wasn’t the point. He always hatted having to watch her grow he skin back afterwards, it always reminding him of how he had gotten his own scare and he really didn’t want to associate the women he loved with the horror of his childhood.

“I thought you were spending the night at Takahashi’s with Hatsume”. Shoto sounded a little angry as he spoke and he wasn’t sure at who. Angry with Y/N for being so carless with her own safety or at himself for not realising it was here sooner. Either way he was angry and he didn’t appreciate her toying with him like that. Sighing she tipped her head back, her smile shifting into something softer, “She said I was distracting her so she kicked me out for a bit and I haven’t seen you for a few days so I thought I would come say hi”. Her voice was just as soft as her smile and Shoto felt some of his anger fade.

“So hi” she said giving him a little wave and with that sweet little smile still on her bitten red lips. Sighing Shoto unfolded his arms letting them fall to his sides. “Hello” he said in return, his voice low and a little bit stiff but she didn’t seem to care, her smile getting that little bit wider as she let out a little laugh. “Was that all you wanted?” Shoto asked, eyeing her expectantly. As nice as it was to finally see her Shoto wasn’t so stupid to think that was the only reason she had trekked halfway across the city.

She let out a huff of laughter before giving him her best puppy dog eyes, pouting a little to help finish the look off. “Cold. Warm me up?” Shoto raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head in exasperation. “If you dressed in weather appropriate clothing you wouldn’t get so cold” he reprimanded, his eyes darting over her as he finally took in her outfit.

She was dressed all in black, with a high waisted pleated skirt that came down to just above her knees, Katsuki’s black t-shirt with a skull printed on the front tucked into it and a black pair of sneakers on that came all the way up to her knees and laced up the front with bright white laces. She had a black leather biker jacket on with two pins on one of the lapels. One was of one of Katsuki’s gauntlets, a little explosion coming from it that looked like one of his fins and the other was of a flame and ice twisted together. She looked good, leant across the wall and smiling enticingly at him.

“I could but then I wouldn’t have an excuse to do this” she teased as she leant forward, hooking her thumbs in his belt and tugging him forward until they were pressed against one another again. Shoto went willingly, letting out a huff of laughter. “You need excuses now?” he asked, cupping her cheek with his left hand. Y/N hummed in answer, her eyes slipping closed as she nuzzled against his palm. He could feel her cold skin heat up under his hand as she absorbed his fire quirk, her skin flushing a light red as it spread out through her body.

Shoto placed his other hand against the wall next to her head and leant in slightly, unable to resist now he was so close to her. Her eyes fluttered open as his hand slid back into her hair. As he slowly leant forward Shoto kept his eyes open, watching as hers widened when she realised what he was going to do before they closed again, Y/N tipping her head up towards him.

His dry lips brushed gently across hers, his tongue darting out to tease at the crease of her lips, just pushing inside ever so slightly before he pulled back, smirking at her annoyed whine. He didn’t get far, her hands darting out to grab at the front of his costume and yank him back down to her. He let out a surprised umph as their lips collided, Shoto’s eyes slamming closed as her lips moved demandingly against his.

It got out of hand quickly, the hand that Shoto had been supporting himself against the wall with going down to her leg instead, dragging his hand along the back of her thigh to grip at her knee and hoist her leg up as he pushed tighter against her. Her hands slid up his chest so she could drape her arms over his shoulders, one of her hands sliding into his hair and curling around the back of his skull. The kiss its self was hard and demanding, their tongues battling for dominance as they tried to devour one another. Shoto hadn’t realised how much he wanted this, how much he had missed it until the moment their lips connected. It had been days and he felt like a starving man who had just been given a steak.

She nipped at his lip before soothing it with her tongue and Shoto moaned, grinding his half hard dick against her. They should stop, needed to stop before things went too far and he couldn’t. It was one thing to be caught making out down a dingy back alley but it would be something entirely different if they were caught having sex because that was where Shoto knew this would end if they didn’t stop in the next few seconds.

“What the actual fuck” came an angry call and they both stilled. With a sigh Shoto pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against Y/Ns and turned to look at the angry blonde who was glaring at them, his collar folded down so you could see all his face. How had neither of them heard him approaching? “Knock it off” Katsuki growled, eyes narrowing and Y/N laughed, shoving at Shoto’s shoulders to get him to move, her out line seeming to shimmer slightly.

Scowling Shoto reluctantly stepped back, letting her leg go as he moved to the side. He slumped against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and defiantly not pouting. Y/N stepped in between them, smiling widely as she spoke. “Shoto was just helping me warm up” she explained and Katsuki grunted. His eyes moved past Y/N and dragged over Shoto’s body, his red eyes narrowing when he saw that bulge in his jumpsuit. Shoto had to fight the shiver that wanted to run down his spine at having the other man’s eyes on him so intently.

“Is that what he was doing?” Shoto turned his head to the side, feeling the slight flush forming on his cheeks. Katsuki was teasing him, Shoto could hear it in his voice but it didn’t change the fact that he still felt like a school kid getting caught behind the bike shed by a teacher. Katsuki didn’t like it when he wasn’t included, Shoto had learnt that the hard way.

Katsuki stepped forward and Shoto’s head snapped back to him, watching as he crowded in close to Y/N a wicked smirk on his lips. “Maybe I should help with that” his voice was full of amusement as he took the final step forward into Y/Ns space. His hands darted out, grabbing at her arm and yanking her forward as he dived for her lips in what looked like a bruising kiss.

She let out a moan, her body arching into the blondes as he wrapped an arm around her waist, the other going to her hair. Shoto could do nothing more than watch as Katsuki dominated the kiss, their lips moving fast and hard against one another’s. He could feel his dick hardening, pressing against his zipper but he couldn’t help it. He had always found the two of them incredibly enticing and loved watching them together, almost as much as he liked Katsuki watching him and Y/N together.

His eyes darted down to Katsuki’s gloved hand as it slowly slid down Y/Ns back, gently brushing over her arse and sliding down her thigh. His fingers played with the edge of her skirt, twisting the fabric between his fingers before he slowly started to slide his hand back up, pushing the fabric up with him. Shoto let out a small moan as he exposed her arse to the cool air, his hand curling around her plump cheek and squeezing. Y/Ns moan had Shoto’s head snapping up, wanting to see the blissed out look that he knew would be on her face but what he found was Katsuki smirking at him, red eyes practically glowing.

“I think someone is feeling a little left out” He mumbled into Y/Ns neck, never taking his eyes off Shoto as placed a kiss under her jaw, nipping gently at it and dragging another small moan from her. Shoto barley had time to react as Katsuki stepped forward, pushing Y/N back until her back was pressed tight against Shoto’s chest. Out of habit Shot’s hands went to her waist, holding her still as her arse pushed against his hard dick. His head tipped forward as he let out a low groan, burying his face in her neck.

He lifted his head as Katsuki pushed forward, sandwiching the smaller women between the two of them, his smirk wide and hungry as he looked down at them. “Wouldn’t want you sulking now, would we?” Shoto scowled at him, wrapping his arms around Y/Ns waist and pulling her tighter against him. He hadn’t been sulking, just feeling a little left out.

Groaning Y/N tipped her head back, resting it on Shoto’s shoulder. ”Less talking more doing. Some of us have a time limit” she demanded, rolling her hips and making both men groan. It was an odd thing to say and Shoto was about to ask what she meant when Katsuki growled, a gloved hand slinging over Shoto’s to grip her hips. “So fucking needy” he growled, rolling his hips and pushing her back against Shoto. He let out a gasp, his grip on her hips tightening and holding her in place as her arse pushed flushed against his dick.

He watched as her lips spread in a smirk, her eyes finding Katsuki’s. She lifted one arm, her fingers slipping in to Shoto’s hair and tugging gently whilst the other curled around his thigh. “So why don’t you hurry up and come satisfy me” she challenged, lifting her head to look at his properly and sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. Katsuki snarled at the challenge, diving forward and kissing her hungrily.

Katsuki’s hands split, one staying on Y/Ns waist whilst the other slid back to curl around Shoto’s hip, gripping it tightly. Shoto gasped at the sudden contact, muffling the sound in her neck as his hips jerking forward to grind his hard dick against Y/Ns arse. She moaned in the kiss, her grip tightening in Shoto’s hair and he groaned loudly, placing hot and cold kisses along her neck and loving all the muffled sounds she was making that Katsuki was swallowing greedily.

This was wrong. They shouldn’t be doing this in such an open place. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night, someone could walk past and see them at any minute and they would all be done for because they were stood in the light and there would be no mistaking what pro heroes Ground Zero and IcyHot were doing to Noir. They would be able to see him grinding and groaning against her like a desperate slut and Katsuki dominating the both. The thought shouldn’t send pleasure zinging through his body, shouldn’t get his dick twitching but it did and Shoto found his mind fogging over with lust as he bit down on the sensitive skin behind Y/Ns ear.

She tore her head away from Katsuki, her head falling against Shoto’s shoulder as she gasped, eyes closed and cheeks nicely flushed. Shoto lifted his head just enough to smirk at Katsuki over her shoulder and slowly started to slide his hands up along her stomach, his long fingers tickling at her sides and causing her to squirm between them. He didn’t stop until he cupped his hands over her breasts, squeezing gently. He didn’t take his eyes off Katsuki as he kissed and nipped at her neck, deft fingers pinching at twisting at her hard nipples and causing Y/N to make these sweet little gasps and whimpers that they both loved so much.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes at him, folding his arms over his chest and Shoto instantly missed the weight of his hand on him, his grip tight and keeping Shoto pinned in place. “So that’s how you wonna playing huh bastard?” Katsuki growled and Shoto felt the shiver of excitement and anticipation that rolled down his back. Smirking he bit down hard causing Y/N to cry out loudly. There was no way people hadn’t heard that, the sound cutting sharply through the quite night air but none of them seemed to care much, Shoto enjoying the annoyed growl that Katsuki made.

“Fine” Katsuki snapped and Shoto only had enough time to lift his head before Katsuki was grabbing Y/Ns hips and spinning her. Shoto let out a hiss of pain as her hand was jerked from his hair and she let out a squeak of protest as she found her chest pressed against Shoto’s. Her hands fumbled, bracing herself against the wall so she didn’t smack her face into Shoto’s, his own going to her waist to help steady her. “What the actual fuck” she hissed, head turned to the side and glaring daggers.

Katsuki snarled, stepping in close and pressing his chest against her back. He leant forward, placing one hand in the wall next to Shoto’s face and gripping her chin with the other, turning her head back towards him just a little bit more. “Blame the half ‘n’ half bastard. He seems to think he has some sort of control over what’s happening here” Katsuki growled before he lent in and sealed his lips over hers in a quick but hard kiss. Y/N smirked turning her head to look at Shoto, her eyes dark and gleaming with lust and amusement. “How unfortunate for him”.

Shoto’s eyes widened, his mouth flapping like a fish as he tried to think of something to say but nothing was coming to mid. They were ganging up on him and Shoto didn’t quite know how to handle that. Y/N pushed her hands against his stomach, her fingers spread wide and dragging across his muscles as she slowly slid her hands up his chest, mimicking his movement from just moments ago.

Katsuki let go of her chin, his hand going back to Shoto’s hip, gripping it hard and keeping him pushed back against the wall. Both of them were smirking as Y/N lent up, her lips going to his neck. Groaning Shoto tipped his head back, giving her more room to run her hot lips across his cool skin. He could feel her smiling against him as she nipped at his throat, her hands squeezing at his pecs.

He was breathing heavily as she pulled back, just enough to get her hands between them and undo the metal clasp that held the two sides of his collar together. She tipped her head back, Katsuki nuzzling against her neck, his red eyes watching Shoto and smirking dangerously. Shoto let out a little whimper, feeling like prey caught in the other man’s gaze, like he was about to be devoured and he would welcome it with open arms and a desperate please tumbling from his lips.

Y/N lent forward her warm lips going to the newly exposed skin, biting and sucking along his collar bone. There would be marks left behind, proof of what they would do to him and Shoto loved it. Loved to see all the dark and angry marks in the mirror when he got dressed. Loved it when people would question what animal he had let maul him when he changed into his hero costume, always refusing to tell them anything but most of all he loved to push his fingers against the tender mark on those lonely night, having nothing but his own hand and half formed fantasy’s mixed with memories to get himself off.

Katsuki’s smirk got wider, his perfect white teeth flashing in the hazy yellow light and Shoto was reminded of a shark about to rip its prey apart. He shivered in anticipation, hips rolling forward as he tried to get some kind of friction on his neglected dick but Katsuki’s tight grip kept him firmly in place. Y/N laughed as he let out a pathetic whine, his hands gripping at her hips as he tried to pull her against him instead. She shifted slightly as she moved forward, sliding her thigh between his legs and ground against him.

Shoto was gone, hips rolling forward as he chased his own pleasure, his hands gripping at Y/Ns waist to keep her against him. He didn’t even feel Katsuki let go of him, not until he felt two gloved fingers gently rubbing at his lips. Shoto’s eyes fluttered open, completely unaware that he had even closed them and looked at the other man with hooded eyes. “Open up” he growled and Shoto obeyed without a second thought. Katsuki slid his fingers in, pushing down on Shoto’s teeth until he bit down on the fabric. He kept his jaw tightly closed, biting down hard on the sweet tasting finger tips as Katsuki pulled his hand back, tugging his hand free of the glove. As soon as he hand was free Y/N reached up, tugging the glove from his mouth.

“Good boy” she murmured, letting the glove fall to the floor and Shoto preened. She lent up, sealing her lips over his in a slow and gentle kiss, a complete contrast to the hard and fast roll of her hips as she worked her thigh against him. Shoto was moaning and gasping into the kiss, his hands sliding round to grab at her arse. The back of his hands dragged against Katsuki’s thighs, his knuckles brushing dangerously close to the other man’s dick and it took all his considerable self-restraint to not cup his hand over him and squeeze the sizeable length. They weren’t there yet and Shoto really didn’t want to ruin what was going on here.

Y/Ns hands were back on his chest, fingers playing with the zipper of his jumpsuit, her delicate fingers teasingly dipping under the fabric to brush against his over sensitive skin. He could feel Katsuki’s hand pushing between the two of them, his knuckles digging into Shoto as he squeezed at her breast and she moaned into his mouth. Shoto took the opportunity, pushing his tongue between her parted lips and rubbing it across hers.

Shoto’s eyes snapped open, jerking back from Y/N with a startled and choked off moan as Katsuki slid his hand down lower, the back of his hand pushing against Shoto’s dick as he worked his hand between them and slid his hands between her legs. She shifted back slightly, her head falling to rest on Shoto’s shoulder and hands gripping at the fabric of his suit. He watched with wide eyes as Katsuki pushed himself tight against her back, trapping Shoto’s hand against her arse with hips, his hard dick pushing against the swell of her arse and the back of Shoto’s fingers.

He could feel the other man’s fingers as they slid under the edge of her skirt, skimming across her thigh. She gasped against Shoto’s neck, her hot breath making his cold sling tingle as Katsuki slipped his fingers under her underwear and along her folds. The way they were with Y/N straddling his leg Shoto could feel every move of the other man’s hand. Could feel him gently dragging his fingers against her, Y/N letting out these sinful little whines against his neck. Shoto felt helpless, gripping tighter at her arse as she rolled her hips forward to get more but Katsuki just moved his fingers away, laughing darkly.

He lent in closer, mouth by her ear and eyes level with Shoto’s. They stared at one another, close enough that if he wanted Shoto could just lean forward and seal their lips together. Katsuki’s eyes flickered down to Shoto’s lips as he licked at his own and Shoto let out his own needy little whine. Smirking Katsuki turned his head, keeping his eyes on Shoto as he nipped at Y/Ns ear. “You know what I want”. His voice was low and rumbling, a teasing edge to it and Shoto could feel him just gently brushing his fingers against her.

Y/N let out a shaky breath and lifted her head. Her face was flushed, her lips bitten red and her eyes blown wide with lust. She looked beautiful and far enough gone that Shoto knew she would probably agree to anything right now to get some sort of relief. She licked at her lips and both men tracked the movement, entranced as a small smile pulled at her kiss swollen lips. “Please” she said, her voice low and breathless and the tension snapped.

Katsuki growled, his lips going to her neck as he pushed his fingers into her. Shoto pushed his lips hard against hers, only just managing to muffle the sound of her cry as Katsuki set as fast a rhythm as he could with Shoto’s leg in his way. She was gasping and moaning into the kiss, her hips rolling forward onto Katsuki’s fingers and pushing her thigh against Shoto’s dick. They both pulled away from his kiss gasping, Y/Ns head tipping back to rest against Katsuki’s shoulder.

Katsuki lifted his head to nuzzle behind Y/Ns ear and Shoto got a look at what the other man had been doing. The bite mark on her neck was large and angry looking, the clear indent of Katsuki’s teeth visible through the red and purple splotch where he had been sucking at it. The mark was low enough that her jacket would hide it and if it was anyone else the mark would be there for days for all to see but this was Y/N and Katsuki would be lucky if it was still there come morning.

“I though half ‘n’ half was supposed to be the perv but look at you, fucking dripping around my fingers” Katsuki growled, pushing his hips forward as she sunk onto his fingers and stopping her from being able to move. Shoto couldn’t feel Katsuki’s fingers moving any more but from the breathless gasp Y/N made Shoto knew he had to rubbing over her clit with his thumb.

“Stop teasing” she whined, turning her head to glare at the blonde as best as she could. Katsuki laughed lowly, his fingers shifting slightly and causing her breath to hitch. “I would but someone isn’t holding up their end of the deal”. Shoto frowned, confused as to what Katsuki was talking about. Oh. This had been planned, the two of them deciding how this was going to go before Shoto had even took his first steps in the alleyway. He didn’t know whether he should be angry or impressed.

Y/N rolled her eyes and pouted, clearly unimpressed she was being denied what she wanted. “Fine” she huffed turning her attention back to Shoto. He sucked in a breath as her hands dragged down his chest, her pout turning into a smirk. She made quick work of his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a thud before going back up for his zipper. As soon as her fingers curled around his zipper Katsuki started to move his fingers again, fucking them into her as fast and hard as he could. “Fuck” she moaned, her head tipping back and her hands stilling. “Not if you don’t get on with it” Katsuki teases, winking at Shoto as he nipped at the bite mark, making her moan once more.

Grumbling she yanked down the zipper of Shoto’s jumpsuit, her hands warm as she slid them under his suit. She pushed the two sides of fabric apart, her nails dragging along his muscles and causing him to hiss at the sudden sting of pain. Everywhere she was touching felt like electricity was dancing over his skin, sending sparks of arousal through him and he wanted more.

Katsuki stepped back slightly, tugging Y/N back with his free hand wrapped around her waist and putting some space between her and Shoto. He wasn’t proud of the noise he made, his hands gripping tight enough at her arse that his nails were digging in as he tried to keep the pressure on his dick. “Don’t worry love, I have something much better for you” she purred, leaning up to place a delicate kiss on his lips. Shoto’s eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her back, losing himself in the gentle movement of her lips and the little moans she was making, so much so that he barely noticed her hands sliding down his abs with intent.

Shoto’s eyes flew open, a loud moan tumbling over his parted lips as she plunged her hand into his underwear, wrapping it around his straining dick and pulling him free of his confines. Slowly she dragged her hand over him, rubbing her thumb over his leaking tip and smearing precum across his red and swollen head.

She was smirking at him, her chest heaving as Katsuki continued to work his fingers in and out of her, digging his knuckles into Shoto’s leg every time her pulled them out. Shoto stared down at her, wishing she was in her own hero uniform so he could actually see the swell of her breasts, watch as they rose and fell with every breath she took. He would be able to duck his head down and get his lips on the soft and unblemished skin, kissing and sucking his way across her chest and adding his own bite marks.

Y/Ns hand tightened around him as she focused her movements on the head, sliding it through her fingers and dragging them down his shaft. His moan was loud Y/Ns own mixing into it. Katsuki hooked his chin over her shoulder, dark eyes watching Shoto as his breathing picked up, mouth hanging open. “If you don’t shut your mouth I’ll take it as an invitation” Katsuki growled, eyes narrowing. Shoto tried, he really did. Licking at his dry lips before biting down on them, muffling his little gasps and moans but Y/N was good at turning him into a pathetic, desperate mess and it wasn’t long before his mouth was falling open again on a gasp as she twisted her hand on the down stroke, dragging her thump along the sensitive vein.

“I think he wants something” Y/N said breathlessly but still managing to sound teasing and Shoto wanted to tell her to shove off but it turned into a groan as she dug the thumb into his leaking slit. “It would be rude to refuse such a blatant invite” Katsuki mumbled, turning to kiss Y/N and all Shoto could do was watch as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her moan as he twisted his fingers.

They broke apart, both of them breathing heavily and Y/N nipped hard at his lip. It was the first time since this had started that Shoto saw the other mans controlled exterior crack just a little, his eyes dark and hungry as he growled at her, the sound low and threatening. She whined as he slipped his fingers from her, Katsuki glaring down at her with a satisfied smirk. He lifted his glistening fingers to Shoto’s lips, both of them turning to watch him as he opened his mouth wider.

He eagerly sucked the two fingers into his mouth, moaning as his mouth was flooded with their mixed taste. “So fucking tight” Katsuki growled, spreading his fingers and pushing down on Shoto’s tongue. “Bet you would be a good little cock sucker”. Shoto hummed eagerly, nodding his head as best as he could and curled his tongue around his fingers, sucking hard. He had never sucked dick before, had never wanted to but Shoto knew that should Katsuki ever ask him to he would be on his knees in seconds.

Y/N leant forward, kissing up his neck and jaw, her hand slowing to just a gentle glide across his aching member. She placed a gentle kiss on the corner of Shoto’s stretched lips, her tongue flicking out to lick along where Katsuki’s fingers pressed in. Katsuki chuckled as he slipped his fingers free from Shoto’s lips only to push them into Y/Ns waiting mouth. “Don’t worry kitten, you always suck me best” Katsuki practically purred, red eyes watching intently and licking at his lips.

She locked eyes with Shoto, her lips spreading into a smirk around the other man’s fingers as she started to bob her head. She matched the movements of her hand to what she was doing with her mouth, her thump swiping over the head on every up stroke just like she would do with her tongue if her was buried in the warm, tight heat of her mouth.

Shoto tipped his head back, resting it against the wall as he panted. “Fuck” he hissed, his hips jerking forward into her hold. His hands slid down her arse, pushing up the fabric of her skirt so he could finally get his hands on her bare flesh, his nails digging into her cheeks. She moaned around the fingers, sinking her mouth down as far as it could go. Shoto knew the moment she swallowed, Katsuki hissing a quite ‘shit’ before quickly pulling his fingers free.

She licked at her lips, winking at Shoto as she slowed down her hand again. He groaned, the pressure that had been building slowly easing as her hand loosened and it became just a gently brush of her fingers against his shaft. She pushed up, pressing her chest against his as she slid her other hand into his hair, pushing his head down towards hers. “Can’t have you ruining our fun too soon” she whispered, lips brushing against his as she spoke.

Glaring Shoto thrust his hips forward, trying to get more friction but Y/N tightened her grip in his hair, yanking his head back and exposing his neck to her sharp teeth. She bit down hard, right by his adam’s apple and he cried out, eyes slamming closed. He felt her laugh against the saw spot, her lips brushing against it before she sucked it into her mouth. It was too high up and there would be no way he would be able to hide it when they got back to the office. People were going to know what he had been doing, would probably think Katsuki had put it there and that was one rumour they could do without at the moment.

Y/Ns hand started to move again, still slowly but her grip a little firmer. Shoto kept his eyes closed, losing himself to the feel of her hand working his dick and her warm lips leaving a trail of burning kisses along his cool skin, the grip on his hair keeping his head pulled back. Vaguely Shoto was aware of the sound of a belt being unclipped, a zipper being yanked down and Katsuki letting out a loan groan. There was the rustle of foil followed by a groaned out curse and Y/Ns soft laughter against his neck.

Large hands grabbed his, sliding them round to Y/Ns hips. Shoto opened his eyes, frowning at the other man but Katsuki just winked. “Hold her steady for me” he growled and Shoto swallowed, nodding his head slightly in understanding. Y/N whined against his neck as Katsuki grabbed her hips, pulling her bottom half back a little and kicked at the inside of her legs to get her to spread them a little more. One of Katsuki’s hands disappeared between them whilst he pressed the other one flat against the wall next to Shoto’s head, his muscles flexing as he steadied himself.

Katsuki was too close to Y/N for Shoto to see what he was doing but he knew the minute the other man pushed into her. She tensed against him, her open mouth pressing against his collar bone as she moaned, her hand stilling on his dick. Katsuki groaned as he pushed into her in one quick thrust, his head falling forward to rest against her shoulder. “Always so god damn tight” he groaned, his hand curling around Shoto’s on her hip. They stayed like that for a moment, everyone trying to calm their racing hearts.

Groaning Y/N shifted, her hand slipping from Shoto’s hair to brace herself against the wall. Shoto felt trapped between the two of them, their arms bracketing him and keeping him in place. “Move already” Y/N grumbled, pushing her hips back and causing Katsuki to let out a grunt, lifting his head to look at Shoto. “Hold on” he growled and Shoto tightened his hold on Y/Ns hips.

He watched as Katsuki slowly pulled back, his brows knitted in concentration, looking down to where they were joined and Shoto wished he could really see it to, wished he could watch the other man fuck into her properly. Y/N cried out when Katsuki slammed back in, her hips pushing hard against Shoto’s hands as Katsuki pushed her forward. He set a bruising pace, hips snapping into her hard and face, the two of them moaning. Y/N tightened her grip around Shoto’s dick as she moved her hand over him, her hand stroking down him every time Katsuki fucked into her.

It didn’t take long for Shoto to feel the muscles in his stomach twitching, heat pooling low in his belly as he raced towards his end but Y/N stopped, her hand gripping tight at the base of his dick to stop him from releasing. She did this twice more until Shoto was a pathetic desperate mess, his body vibrating with the need to cum. “Please, I need to cum” he begged Y/N, his voice rough and desperate. Katsuki was the one to answer him though, growling his words through gritted teeth as he continued to fuck into Y/N. “You can cum when she does you little slut”.

Y/N let out a breathless laughter and Shoto whined. He didn’t know if he could take much more of this teasing, being driven to the edge only to be denied relief. His eyes were starting to water and his dick was throbbing with the need to cum and it had been so long since he had felt her hands on him that he was surprised he had made it this far. Soft lips brushed gently across his and Shoto sighed, the tension easing in his shoulder as he kissed her back just as softly. “I need more” she whispered, nipping gently at his bottom lip. “Will you give it to me Sho?”

Groaning he nodded dumbly, staring down at her with longing. “She means use you’re fucking fingers dip shit” Katsuki snapped when Shoto didn’t move, grabbing tightly at his hand and moving it round to press against her pussy. “The quicker we get her to cum the sooner you can” Katsuki said, winking at Shoto before letting go of his hands. He gripped tightly at Y/Ns hair, yanking her head back and she gasped at the sudden action, her hand squeezing tightly at Shoto’s dick as she dragged her hand up.

Katsuki leaned in until his mouth was next to her ear, his hips stilling. “Beg for it” he growled, Y/N whimpering as he gripped her hair tighter. “Please give it to me” she gasped as she tried to roll her hips but they had a tight grip on her and she couldn’t get the movement she wanted. She let out an annoyed groan, her brow creasing as she frowned. “Please. It’s been so long and I want it so badly. Please let me have it, make me cum so hard they hear me screaming your names a block away”. Her voice was desperate as she begged, the sweet words tumbling over her lips and Shoto’s heart stuttered as his dick twitched.

They moved as one, Katsuki growling as he started to snap his hips into her fast and hard. At the same time Shoto ducked forward, sealing his lips over her neck as he slid his fingers down, rubbing hard at her clit. She cried out at their assault, her eyes squeezed shut and nails scratching along the stone. The sound of her cry was ringing in Shoto’s ears but he didn’t care, it was the best sound he had heard for days and he would still be hearing it ringing in his ears come morning. Her hand starting moving over his aching length again, her movements fast and uncoordinated and he moaned, biting down over the mark that Katsuki had already left behind.

He was speeding towards his climax quickly, all of them racing towards the finish but Y/N had to cum first. Shoto wouldn’t put it past Katsuki to punish him somehow if they didn’t get her off first, probably tie him to a chair and make him watch him reduce Y/N to mumbling mess. It wouldn’t be the first time he had done it and it probably wouldn’t be the last, the blonde liking the control it gave him too much. Shoto never complained though.

Taking a deep breath Shoto tried to concentrate, covering his fingers with ice as he pressed down against her sensitive clit. “Shoto!” She called out her rhythm stuttering and Shoto would swear that the alleyway seemed to shimmer for a second, the image destroying before snapping back into place. “Would you fucking focus” Katsuki growled, tugging at Y/Ns hair until she hissed. “I’m trying but it’s hard when you’re....ahhh” Y/Ns irritated words cut off into a cry as Katsuki slammed into her particularly hard, his smirk wide and dangerous.

Confused Shoto leant back against the wall, trying to figure out what they were talking about but all other thoughts left his mind as Y/N sealed her hand around his leaking head and squeezed. He moaned her name as she set up a fast pace, his head squeezing between her fingers only to be sucked back in. “You were saying” Katsuki teased, dragging his nose along her exposed neck before biting down in the same spot again. “Just hurry the fuck up. I can’t keep it up much longer”.

Shoto barley heard the other two bickering, his ears ringing as he tried to keep himself from exploding. Her hand was so warm and tight around him, squeezing and rubbing in all the right places to have his heart slamming against his chest and his body tingling. He could barely stay focused enough to remember to move his fingers, rubbing hard and fast against her. They were all breathing heavily, their moans mixing together. Shoto could feel the heat building, his stomach muscles tightening as he got closer to the edge. He had been on the edge for so long now that if Y/N didn’t stop he wasn’t going to be able to hold it back.

“Scream for use” Katsuki growled, yanking her hips back against him as she thrust forward and sank his teeth into her neck. Y/N didn’t disappoint, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open as she called out Katsuki’s name, her body going taught as she came. She looked beautiful, caught in rapture and it was enough to send Shoto tumbling after her. Shoto arched off the wall, his shoulders digging into the hard stone, moaning loudly and gripping tightly at her hip, his fingers stilling against her. His vision went white, his fingers tingling as release finally found him.

Pulling his hand away from her Shoto curled it around her hip, holding her tightly as Katsuki slammed into her, losing his rhythm as he chased his own release. Y/N moaned, panting as Katsuki thrust a couple more time’s before stilling, groaning loudly as he came. Shoto felt the heat of Katsuki’s palm sparking as well as heard the crackling and pop, the blondes’ fingers curling against the wall.

They stood there for a few moments, leaning against one another and trying to even out their breathing and calm their racing hearts. Katsuki slipped his hand from Y/Ns hair, his fingers gently rubbing at her scalp and she hummed in pleasure. Katsuki was the first to pull away, the muscles in his arm rippling as he pushed himself away from the wall and slipped out of Y/N. As soon as he was far enough back Katsuki yanked the condom off and chucked it away, wasting no time tucking himself back into his pants and righting his uniform.

With a sigh Y/N stepped back, Shoto’s hands slipping off of her as she moved and he instantly missed the closeness. He set to sorting himself out, tucking his now soft dick back into his pants and tugging the zip up. Shoto groaned as Y/N lifted her cum covers hand to her lips, sucking and licking every trace of him off of her, his spent dick giving a valiant twitch at the sight. “You are disgusting” Katsuki growled, watching her with a frown as he zipped his trousers up and fastened his belt. She moaned loud and exaggerated around her fingers and Shoto let out a snort of laughter as he finished doing up his jump suit.

She popped her fingers from her mouth, turning so she could look at Katsuki. “Would you rather I wiped it on your face” she said in all seriousness, smirking widely and raising an eyebrow at him. Trying not to laugh as the blondes eyes widened in surprise for a second before he went back to scowling at the women, Shoto bent down, retrieving his belt and Katsuki’s glove from the floor. “Try it and I will kill you” Katsuki growled, snatching his glove from Shoto’s outstretched hand.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she turned back to Shoto, taking his belt from him and leaning forward to loop it around his waist. “Enjoy yourself?” She asked smugly, looking up at him through her lashes as she clipped the belt in place. “I did, though I get the feeling I was missing something” Shoto looked down at her expectantly, a small smile on his lips. Smirking she stepped back, shrugging her shoulders and waving her hand dismissively. “I had to try out some new quirk related tech and we were horny, didn’t think you would mind coming along for the ride”. As she spoke the dark alleyway around them shimmered and then seemed to snap out of existence.

They were nowhere near as far away from the street as Shoto had believed and the security light they were under wasn’t the only one dotted along the walls. Oh god, they had been so loud, so brazen about what they had been doing and anyone could have heard them, seen them. What if someone had? They were going to be over all the papers and most definitely getting fired for having sex not only in public but on duty.

His panic must have shown on his face because Y/N was speaking again, smiling reassuringly at him. “We’ve been working with the hero Mirage to help keep her allusions up whilst distracted and you two are the best distraction out there to test it with. Don’t worry no one saw or heard anything other than an empty alley and a few stray cats”. Shoto felt the tension ease, relieved that no one had been able to see anything. That did explain some of the things the other two had been saying.

Growling Katsuki wrapped his arms around Y/Ns waist, the women laughing as he lifting her up of the floor. “You’re a pretty good distraction yourself” he growled, placing her back on the floor and pressed a kiss against her cheek. Frowning Shoto crossed his arms. “So you misused someone else’s quirk for your own entertainment” he chided. She was getting paid a lot of money to do this job and these heroes were trusting her to help develop items to further their carrier, not to go around finding all the different ways she can apply their quirks to their sex lives.

Katsuki looked up from where he had been nuzzling at Y/Ns neck, scoffing and rolling his eyes. Y/N raised a delicate eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t remember you complaining when I had that vibration quirk for the night”. Katsuki laughed as Shoto felt himself blushing. That had been different. It belonged to a pervert who told her to make use of it and try it whilst having sex because it felt amazing. They had the guy’s permission and he had been right. It had felt really good with her two fingers shoved inside of him as she swallowed him down. He had cum in a matter of minutes and screaming so loud that Katsuki had heard him when he got out of the lift on their floor of the apartment building they lived in.

Knowing she had won the argument Y/N turned in Katsuki’s arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I better go, let you two hard working heroes get back to work” she said reluctantly, pushing up on her toes to places a quick kiss on Katsuki’s lips. He growled into it, pulling her closer against him and it soon became heated, Katsuki’s mouth hungrily devouring her. When they pulled away Katsuki looked smug, stepping out of her arms and spinning her round to face Shoto.

She licked at her lips, placing her hands on Shoto’s shoulders to steady herself as she pushed up. He met her half way, their kiss soft and gentle as he cupped her cheek. When he pulled away her eyes fluttered open slowly with a gentle sigh and Shoto wanted to spend the rest of the night kissing her, slow and softly, savouring the feel of her lips against his. “Text me when you get in?” she whispered and Shoto nodded not trusting his voice not to break if he opened his mouth.

She stepped back from his hold, trying to put some distance between the three of them. “Right. Okay. See you later” she said quickly turning and running from the alley. As she went her outline shimmered then suddenly they were looking at a smiling Kirishima, waving at them enthusiastically. Katsuki growled, taking a step forward. “I told you to knock that shit off” he yelled angrily after her but Y/N just laughed louder, disappearing around the corner still looking like the redhead.

“Something the matter” Shoto asked casually, eyeing the blonde out the corner of his eyes. Katsuki groaned in annoyance, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets and glaring at the floor as if it had offended him. “It’s what she was fucking doing when I found you” he grumbled as he started to make his way back to the street. Shoto’s eyes widened in shock, mind scrambling as he tried to process what the other man had said and stumbling after him. “She was shitty hair and had you looking like fucking Denki”. Shoto blinked once before he burst into laughter.

Katsuki’s shoulders tensed, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth together. “It’s not fucking funny asshole” he yelled and Shoto had to bite down on his lip to stifle his laughter. No wonder he had looked so angry when he turned up. “I’m never unseeing that shit” he grumbled, looking down at the floor as they stepped out into the street. They both looked back down the way they had come earlier before turning and heading down the other way, starting their loop to take them back to the agency in silence.

It was a comfortable silence even if Katsuki was still sulking, though Shoto could sympathise. He would probably be acting the same way if he had walked round a corner to find Tenya and Izuku making out. He shivered at just the thought but that didn’t change the fact that Katsuki was seeing his two friends in just a few days and Shoto couldn’t wait to see the horror on Katsuki’s face when they undoubtedly did something to remind him of what he had seen tonight. He would have to make sure to have his phone on hand to capture the moment in glorious high definition.

#bakugou x reader #ao3 fanfic #bakugou x todoroki #bnha fanfiction #mha #my hero academia #todoroki x reader #bakugou x reader x todoroki

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