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mischiefm4n4ged · 2 years

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Just you and me now… | Dark!jegulus

Summary: James joins Voldemort to protect Regulus, who doesn’t really take it that well.

Warnings: violence, swearing, blood, abuse.

Word count: ~ 4,3k

James had decided. He was going to do it. He couldn’t leave Regulus in that place and with those awful people any longer. If Regulus was not brave enough to leave then his only way of protecting him is to join them, after all he is the brave and loyal gryffindor out of the two. It’s ironic how he had fought so hard for Sirius’ escape and now he is the one willingly stepping into their little cult.

The entire order relied on him, he couldn’t stand the thought of letting them down especially his friends, especially Sirius. However, if we put things into perspective, James didn’t have much left to lose. His parents were dead, his friends would be safe together, they had each other. He felt like he had no one, no matter how much his friends tried he never felt comforted, he needed Regulus. Every minute that passed his heart yearned for him, wished to hold him and keep him safe.

The pain in his heart left him laying on the lawn of his parents’ (recently turned his) manor, intoxicated on alcohol and some overpriced potion he picked up from the guy behind the pub. He woke up rolled on to his stomach with vomit threatening to choke him. He weakly sat on his knees as his stomach emptied onto the grass before balancing on his wobbly feet. There was an instant regret as his knees gave in and he fell onto the grass, hitting his head on the ground, but it was just grass and it didn’t hurt badly. However, he cried and sobbed and screamed. It was lonely and he knew Sirius wouldn’t show up to help him again, Remus had his own issues and Peter, well, he had given up on him long ago.

James felt something crawl on his hand, it was a tiny ladybug, he felt the soft dirt between his fingers and thought about regulus. Was he comfortable? Was he fed? Was he lying dead somewhere? He sighed and slowly sat up. His mind was unusually blank, there were no thoughts only a feeling, a desperation to see the one he loved most safe. To do that he had to join them, there was no other choice. He told himself this all the way into the manor, up to his room, in the shower and all the way through the gates and down the street for the apparition spot. He knew where they were so he only had to think of that awful place and he was there. Last time he was here to fight for the first black heir, now he was here to surrender for the second.

There was not a second of hesitation has he approached the hidden building. He made out two shadowed figures by the door, guarding it from people like him. They spotted him and raised their wands, ready for a fight. He put both his hands up into view.

“I’m not here to fight, I would like to speak to Voldemort.” He said loudly and to his own surprise confidently. The guards looked at each other before one of them spoke.

“Are you alone?” He looked around as if someone was hiding in the bushes.

“Yes. I want to… join you.” James’ voice was growing weaker but his eyes remained on the two men in front of him.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m James Potter…” he said and snickers erupted from the other two.

“Alright Potter, Follow me.” The taller one pointed to his friend “you, stay at your post.”

James followed him into the house and it was just as dark as he could remember. They reached the end of a hallway and the man knocked on a big wooden door. When it opened magically the guard grabbed James by his sweater and shoved him inside. There were three people in the room, first Walburga Black the owner of the house, second Bellatrix Lestrange the mad cousin and third, Voldemort himself.

“A blood traitor!” Roared Bellatrix, standing from her spot on the large conference-like table and pointing at James, “how dare you!”

“My Lord… he asked to speak to you, he wants to join us.” The guard explained, half hidden behind james.

Voldemort looked between them and gestured for Bellatrix to sit down, “you may leave the room.” The guard nodded and left within a second.

“Come.” He ordered and James gulped, feeling his senses returning to him but he did as told. It was so quiet his footsteps echoed in the room and he could hear his heart beat loudly in his chest. “Well, introduce yourself.” Voldemort scoffed as James stood frozen in front of him, his face half lit by the weak candle light.

“I’m James Potter…a pureblood…” He said, unsure of the proper lingo for a place like this.

“And what brings you to me, boy?” Voldemort asked as if their meeting was a normal occurrence and he was not the most evil wizard in centuries.

“I would like to join you… I want to support your cause if you would let me…my lord” James hesitated but decided in the end that if he was going to do this he would do it fully. He dared to glance at Walburga, she had her arms crossed and her face expressionless as always. “I’ve had a change of heart. I realized how brainwashed I was by my parents who recently passed away, your way is the only one, I want to dedicate myself to you.” James spoke desperately, which he was in some way.

“Liar.” Walburga spoke for the first time. “I know you. I know you would never betray your friends, what are your real motives?”

“I tried to talk to them but they didn’t accept it. They are vile, blood traitors and all those years I’ve spent with them… I’d do anything to take it back. Let me prove myself. Please.” James was basically begging now and hoped that they wouldn’t see through his lies.

“I’m not convinced.” She said and Voldemort nodded.

“I say we torture the truth out of him.” Bellatrix laughed evilly.

“Now, now Bella, let’s give him a chance first…” Voldemort gestured at James to tell the truth.

“I’m not lying, I swear. I want to be like you my lord”

“Walburga, lestrange, it’s now in your hands to get the truth out.” Voldemort inserted his wand into his sleeves and got up to leave. Bellatrix let out a snicker and grabbed James by his collar. “Let me know how he does will you?” Voldemort said and apparated in a second.

“Please don’t… I’m telling the truth.” James begged as he was shoved to his knees just by the curtain covered window.

“What a shame, a pretty face never comes with a smart mind.” Bellatrix said and her snickers were drowned out by the wave of pain hitting his core. He begged and pleaded but they didn’t stop, even when he was crying and screaming and drooling with pain they continued.

“Please! I’m telling the truth!” He cried while they took turns.

“This is a daily activity for us, Potter, your pleas mean nothing” Walburga said and James didn’t know what else to do, he couldn’t die now.

“I’ll tell the truth! I will!” He screamed in pain and it all stopped instantly, he heaved himself onto his knees, blood dripping from his nose. “I’m here for your son.” He said, delirious.

“That boy is not a son of mine!” Walburga shouted and James shook his head, before she crucio’s him again.

“Not Sirius, Regulus.” He looked up at her through hooded eyes. “I wanna protect him. Please let me.” He begged.

“Regulus? He doesn’t need your protection.” She said but her voice wavered a little.

“So romantic…” Bellatrix laughed and Walburga shot her a glare.

“Romance? What is this nonsense?” She was getting upset.

“I promise I will protect your heir, the last true heir of the house of Black, I will do anything to keep him alive, I would die for him.”

“I suggest an unbreakable vow…” bellatrix said and Walburga nodded.

“I am not sure of your relationship with my son, and I’m not sure I approve of it but if you’re so willingly joining us out of desperation to protect him…” she squinted her eyes at him, “stand up” she ordered and he did his best, on shaky legs. He took her outstretched hand, not thinking twice about the vow.

Bellatrix took out her wand, excited to cast the spell for the first time in her life. The light of the spell wrapped itself around their intertwined hands as she eerily whispered the promise in James’ ear. “Will you, James Potter, protect Regulus Black from harm and in face of death, stand between them?”

“I do.” James’ voice shook, but he had never meant the words any more. The thread of light around their wrists tightened before letting go and disappearing in the air. James didn’t feel any different, he would die for Regulus with or without a spell.

“Call for him Bella.” Walburga ordered and Bellatrix left the room.

“You will receive the dark mark immediately, it’s a symbol of loyalty and dedication to our lord. Once you receive it, there’s no going back, you’re expected to join our meetings and fight against the order in assigned missions, you will not lift your wand in the presence of our lord and you will behave with utter respect around him, unless you wish to be gone before fulfilling your vow.” She explained to him and James thought that this must be how Sirius felt all those years, how did they end up switching places like this?

“Don’t frighten the boy Walburga, I trust your judgement so I will not drag this on” Voldemort was suddenly in the room, he reached for James’ wrist and pulled the sleeve up. He whispered a spell, sounding like a long sentence and a greenish skull started forming on his wrist, slowly developing into a snake.

Tears prickled his eyes as he felt reality hit him. He was a death eater now, officially, he can never go back home again.

“Welcome. I expect you’ll be a pleasant and… useful addition…” Voldemort smirked. “Let’s arrange a meeting, Bella call for them.” He ordered and the witch pressed the wand to James’ new tattoo and it started moving.

“Black, fix him up, we will be in this room for the meeting.”

“Yes, my lord.” Walburga dragged James to a bathroom across the hall and handed him a wet towel for him to press on his swollen nose.

“Does he know you’re here?”

“Who- oh no.. no one knows.”

“So you’re really here for regulus then”

“Yes I literally just swore on my life…” James made a what-the-fuck-are-you-dumb face? She rolled her eyes.

“You’re just like Sirius.”

“Fucking great then.” There was a moment of silence while his feelings kind of settled from the hectic events. He felt happy he was seeing Regulus in only a few minutes, he was going to have him once again and hopefully forever. If it took being evil to do that, then he would.

“Alright follow me” she said and vanished the bloodied towel. They walked across the hall and to the big wooden door. He took a deep breath and it hurt but that only made his heart flutter, because all this pain was worth it in the end.

“Who is it, my lord?” James heard a high voice on the other side of the room and he had a feeling it was about him.

“You shall see in a moment. Come in.” Voldemort opened the door, wandlessly and James stepped in, walburga in the lead. James’ eyes scanned the table as they approached it. Everything froze as regulus laid his eyes on him and James watched as he almost jumped from his seat, his eyes blown open, his jaw clenched like it usually did in anger and his cheek sucked in like he was biting his tongue. He glared at him, tears rimming his eyes. However no one noticed except James.

James slowly looked away his stomach flipping shame, was he really doing the right thing? His attention was back to Voldemort who had an evil smile and was pointing him to a seat, which happened to be the one in front of Regulus. He figured he had missed the part where Voldemort introduced him to everyone.

James took his seat, feeling Regulus' glare follow his every movement. His own eyes were glued to the floor as he felt another wave of shame come over him.

“Potter. Show everyone your loyalties.” Voldemort requested and James nodded, understanding what he had to do. He could practically feel Regulus’ anger across the table. He could feel him lowering his head and shed tears of disappointment when he pulled his sleeve back, revealing the mark to everyone for the first time.

James knew Regulus was shaking his leg and picking at his fingernails and biting his lips to not make any kind of reaction. He wished he could hold his hand, but even if he could he wasn’t sure if he would let him.

Voldemort started talking and James’ eyes didn’t leave the table. He didn’t dare. Luckily nobody talked to him, and after what felt like hours, the meeting was over. Everyone went their separate ways, except Regulus and his parents.

James looked up slowly, his eyes filling with tears as regulus came into view. “Reg-“

“Don’t..out of everyone… you’re the last person- ” Regulus responded, his voice breaking off. James shook his head and wondered if he should just plead for Regulus to hear him out.

“You don’t understand…” James said and saw Orion and Walburga leave the room from the corner of his eye. Regulus looked at him with such disappointment, it tore at his heart. “It's not what you think. I’m here because- because you wouldn’t come with me and I hate that you’re here alone. I need- i need you and if this is what it takes then im ready.“

Regulus let out a scoff, even though tears were staining his cheeks, “are you though? Are you ready to fight your friends? And maybe even kill them? You won’t survive here for long if you think you won’t have to hurt the people you love the most. Everyday you’ll have to fight against your own values, James, are you really ready for that?”

“You’re worth it to me…you’re the one I care for the most” James’ voice was quieter, but it still echoed slightly in the room.

“How can I know you won’t leave the moment things get hard, huh? Just like Sirius did… You think you can protect me… but if it was a choice between me and your precious friends you’d always choose them. So don’t bullshit me!” Regulus was crying harder now, his nose red and stuffy and James just wanted nothing more than to comfort him.

James lifted his sleeve, “I literally have this. How else should I prove to you that you’re the most important person to me? I would follow you to hell.” He stood up and walked around the table, to get closer to Regulus.

“I don’t want you to… this is a mistake, James. Please, why do you have to make everything so hard?”

James was now just by his chair and looking down at Regulus, “I’m sorry I always make things complicated but I’d rather die than leave you here alone.” His voice was almost a whisper but it still made Regulus more upset.

Regulus stood up all of a sudden and held James' sleeve in a tight fist before weakly punching James’ chest. “You can’t just say that. You can’t just show up here and expect me to be happy about it. You can’t do this to me! You have to go back you idiot, you have to go back, don’t be a coward like me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His voice faded into a whisper and then loud sobs.

James didn’t resist him, he only held him once he had given up on his weak hands. He had never seen him cry before, not like this. “Hey, Shh, I’m here now. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll keep us both safe…look at me.”

Regulus looked up from where he had rested his face on his chest and James wiped his tears. “You’re not alone anymore…” he said and smiled softly at him “…I promise I will never, ever leave. I love you.” He leaned down and slowly, making sure regulus didn’t move away, placed gentle kisses on his lips. Regulus kissed back and both of them had tears down their cheeks as their emotions took over.

“I love you too…” Regulus said between sniffles and James stroked his hair, feeling the intense need to protect him. “Do they know? Does Sirius know you’re here?” He asked and James shook his head.

“Do you have any idea what our next mission is?” Regulus asked, his eyes blown open and teary. James shook his head again. “James… you don’t understand how bad your timing is…”

“What is it?” James almost yelled. Regulus let go and took a step back.

“We have found the location of the order and we are attacking it in two days.” He said with the most neutral face. James’ heartbeat picked up and he started to sweat. “It means that if it comes down to it you really have to kill your friends. I'm sorry.”

“I told you, I’d do anything for you.” James said, shaking his head and concealing his panic.

“I’ll ask mother if you can stay with us. We can just share a room I guess.” Regulus said nonchalantly and James’ eyes lit up.

“Are you suggesting we share a bed? I didn’t know you had such thoughts little Reggie…” James teased, unconsciously imitating Sirius. He chuckled at regulus’ unamused face as the latter just rolled his eyes.

“Well I can't expect you to keep it in your pants… after last year I’m convinced you’re a… wild… something…” regulus looked him up and down and then half smirked. James blushed at the reminder of their hookups during his last year of Hogwarts but he did pride himself in the way Regulus described him, compliment or not.

“Why thank you. I shall continue delivering the highest quality service to you, my love.” James said and put his hands around regulus’ waist.

“I really wanna kiss you right now.” Regulus said and James leaned down, pressing their lips together. It was not like the previous kiss, this one was passionate and full of love.

“I missed you so much.” James whispered and Regulus nodded in agreement.

“I’ll go ask my parents if you can stay here. Don’t go anywhere.” Regulus let go of James' hand, which he didn’t even know was held.

Two days later they were in their matching capes on their way to destroy the order’s headquarters. Their hands were secretly intertwined as they went in pairs to the apparition spot. James had slept in regulus’ bed and it would be a lie to say they didn’t do anything, because if anyone deserved to share intimacy and love it would be the two of them. Walburga was brutal, worse than James had pictured her from Sirius’ stories and he could say she was close to being worse than Voldemort himself.

“James. Are you ready?” Regulus asked as they stood behind the bushes.

“Yeah. Let’s just do this together.” James inhaled deeply and Regulus nodded, apparating them to the location. They shared a look as everyone took their positions around the house, there was not one lit up window so they must know they were coming.

“Can you tell me the plan again?” James asked. Regulus moved in a crouched position so no one would spot him. “We wait until the signal and once we hear it we start destroying the house. Just point wherever. The order members will need to go outside and that’s when we fight.” Regulus repeated the same instructions for the third time and James nodded, his hands shaking with anxiety.

A light shined in one of the bottom windows and James could make out two figures who looked a lot like Remus and Sirius. They were yelling at each other, pacing and then they were hugging. What was that about? James wondered but then he realized he had no right to know anymore. He was their enemy now, was this what Regulus felt when he got the mark?

Arthur Weasley turned up, he was mostly a shadow but the red hair gave him away. He looked upset and gestured angrily before the lights turned off again.

“Now, James!” Regulus yelled and started throwing spells at the peaceful house. He watched for a few moments as his boyfriend destroyed the fence. “If you wanna live, you need to work, we talked about this!“ regulus yelled, snapping James out of his trance.

“Bombarda!” He pointed at the ground, which didn’t do much else than throw dirt in the sky.

A powerful spell hit the third floor and sent the house tumbling down to ruins. Five people ran out and James froze. Remus, Sirius, Peter, Arthur and Marlene were standing in a circle, back to back. Only Sirius and Remus had seen him as they stood right next to each other. He realized how they must think it was he who had revealed their location and it gave him a desperate need to prove the opposite.

“Prongs?! What the fuck?!” Sirius yelled, his wand raised just in case. It caught Arthur’s attention, he looked in their direction and his eyes widened at the sight. He sent sparks towards Regulus who flew a few feet away, landing harshly on his back. James watched for a few moments and before he knew it Regulus was back on his feet and stupefying Arthur. Remus blocked it and attacked Regulus with the same spell. James felt the rage inside him and reversed the spell’s direction.

Remus fell back and the pain in his face was clear as day, he held his hip as he tried to get up again. James felt bad but he had to protect regulus.

“You’re a fucking traitor! You’re a coward James Potter.” Sirius started attacking James with hexes and curses as a few tears fell down his cheeks. James wished he could explain, but he had nothing to say for himself so he let Sirius take it out on him.

“Stupefy!” regulus yelled from beside him and Sirius was off the ground. James breathed for a second and as he was standing he saw Remus point his wand at Regulus. James made eye contact with Remus and stood between them. Slowly Remus took steady steps backwards toward Sirius who layed (probably) unconscious against one of the destroyed walls. James lowered his wand as Remus did the same.

“Hey, James you’re hurt!” Regulus yelled over the loud noises of people fighting and bricks falling. He pulled his hair up from his forehead and observed the cut, with the other hand he held James’ chin. James saw how his friends were looking at them and while Sirius was enraged, Remus was giving him a knowing look. As if he knew exactly what had happened.

“We need to go back!” Regulus yelled and took his hand. The next moment he was outside the house and they both limped towards it.

“Mum!” Regulus yelled frantically into the big hall and a few moments later Walburga came running toward them. James had observed their dynamic and he never called her that, unless it was some kind of emergency.

“Are you hurt?” She asked, a faint hint of worry on her voice. Regulus shook his head.

“James needs a healer please. He was cursed.” Regulus said and James suddenly felt weak and there was a sharp pain in his forehead, like someone was holding a torch too close to his face.

“Fuck!“ he yelled and held his head, his fingers smudging the blood.

“Alright. Follow me.” Walburga said, her tone back to normal. They followed her into a room where their family healer lived and he was told to quickly lay down on the bed.

“How did this happen, Regulus?” Walburga asked, her arms crossed.

“He was protecting me and then Sirius attacked him.” Regulus explained and his mother nodded.

“Never expected much more of that boy.”

“He was crying, mother.”

“I do not care for boys who cry, how many times do I need to repeat it.”

The healer looked between them and nicely asked them to quiet down. She used her wand and a few potions to fight the curse.

A few hours later James was sitting in the bed with regulus by his side. His head felt heavy but the pain was gone, and he felt lightheaded as if drunk.

“Reg…” James whispered and held his hand out. Regulus took it and softly kissed the back of it. “It’s just you and me now…”

“Yeah… we only have each other, I’m sorry.” Regulus said and James shook his head.

“What are you sorry for? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m sorry, for not coming earlier.” James mumbled and Regulus crawled into the bed next to him, laying his head on his chest.

“We should run away together.” James said, half-heartedly. Maybe they could, maybe if James was with regulus he wouldn’t be afraid. Maybe the biggest mistake was Sirius leaving his brother alone.

They weren’t cowards, not him, not regulus. They were the opposite, Regulus was brave enough to face his, once Sirius left it to him, inevitable fate and James was brave enough to join this disgusting mess just for the one he loves.

“Okay…” regulus whispered and James didn’t dare respond, in fear of Regulus taking it back. So he just smiled and kissed the top of his head, wondering if that kind future really laid in front of them.

Thanks to @darquevdg for the prompt <33

#i don’t know how I feel about this work #sirius black #marauders #harry potter #remus lupin #james potter #jegulus au #jegulus #dark!jegulus #regulus arcturus black #regulus black #regulus x james

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a-funny-little-sunflower · 3 years

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Yandere Legolas x reader Smut

There is a ball scene in this fic and this is what I imagined the dress would look like, cause I adore cottagcore. If you don't like it, I respect that and just ignore this picture :)

You would never have thought that this would ever happen to you. You’d heard the stories. The tales of elven obsession towards their darlings but you had never expected to become one of them….

Time makes fools of us all, I suppose.

You don’t know how you never saw it coming, after all, looking back on it, it was quite obvious.

The fawning over you, the obsessive glances, the jealousy.

God, you really should have seen this coming. You shouldn’t have fallen for his trap, but in all honesty, it just seemed so innocent.

Legolas had invited you to the Mirkwood palace, a high honour considering their secrecy and what kind of person would you have been to refuse such a generous offer?

You had gotten to the border, and Legolas was eagerly awaiting your arrival. His eyes were gleaming with an emotion you couldn’t place, and he greeted you warmly. “Y/N! I’m so glad you came!”

He ran forward and gathered you in his arms, utterly enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug, and you couldn’t help but hug back. When he finally pulled back, and gently cupped your face and stared into your eyes for what seemed to be an eternity. He looked enrapture with you.

You looked at him questioningly for a moment before you finally broke the silence “Legolas? Are you alright?” Your voice seemed to break him out of whatever trance he was in, and he smiles brightly before answering “Oh I’m alright! It’s just that my memory does not do your beauty justice”.

You were by surprise at the sudden compliment, but you couldn’t help but believe his words. You didn’t get a chance to answer because he was already guiding you to sit on his horse, and when you had been comfortably settled, Legolas joined you in the saddle.

You rode through thick forests filled with lush greenery, imposing trees, and beautiful trees. And the speed at which you were going must have been causing you to see things because you swore you saw a figure sat upon a snow-white elk, but you cast the notion away, deciding that it must have just been a trick of the light.

Time seemed to cease in this forest because you no idea how long you had been riding for, but it felt like it was somewhere between a second and eternity. Regardless of how long it had taken, you were finally at the palace gates.

You dismounted, and you had only taken a few strides forward before the gates opened ceremoniously and you were greeted by a company of guards. They bowed in unison before the captain announced your presence. “Prince Legolas and Lady Y/N, welcome to Mirkwood. The guests await your entrance”.

“Thank you Elros, we will be there soon.” You looked questioningly at Legolas as you were led into the palace, not understanding what he was talking about. He must have felt your curious gaze on his face because he turned to you and spoke “My father arranged a ball in the honour of your arrival.”

That took you completely by surprise! You would have never expected such a fuss over your presence. “But I’m not dressed for a ball!” You said in a shocked voice, but Legolas only gave you a patient look as you broke away from the group of guards.

Legolas smiled at your panicked tone and said in a reassuring tone “Your gown has already been arranged starlight.” You went a little pink at the nickname and allowed yourself to be led to the guest chambers that had been arranged for you.

“This will be your chambers for the duration of your stay, I hope it suits you well,” Legolas said before opening the door for you.

“Thank you, Legolas, it's more than I could have asked for!” You said with a bright smile. He grinned at your reaction, “You like it?” he asked. You nodded joyfully, staring around the room in wonder. “It’s wonderful Legolas, thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to get changed into your gown, my lo-…My lady,” Legolas replied, before closing the door, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

You turned to where your ballgown was hanging, and you couldn’t help but to stop and admire it. It was truly divine. The tailoring was magnificent, it was designed to show off your shoulders and the soft colour would most certainly bring out your eyes.

You quickly stepped into the gown, and you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring how you looked. Utterly gorgeous.

You strode towards the door when you heard a firm knock echo against the hardwood and when the door swung open, you were met with handsome looking Legolas. The way he looked took your breath away and your appearance seemed to do the same. Legolas finally broke the silence, “Are you ready for the ball starlight?” You nodded eagerly, linking arms with him, and walking towards the ballroom.

The Mirkwood halls were truly as grand as the stories said. The decorations were extravagant and every elf in the room was dressed beautifully, and it was all being overseen by the Elven king, sitting high in his throne.

The night went by in a blur. You stayed by Legolas’ side the whole night, and you had the most fun you’d had in years. You had danced and drunk and laughed, it was bliss. You hadn’t thought much of it when Legolas asked you to meet him in a quiet corridor, thinking he just wanted somewhere quiet to talk to you for a while.

You finished up the conversation you were having with a young elleth and went out into the hallway in search of Legolas. You found him standing at the end of the hallway, waiting for you. He didn’t notice you walking towards him at first, seemingly entranced in his thoughts.

When he finally did notice you, his smile was enough to make flowers grow. “My darling Lady, you came!” He sounded so happy that you had decided to join him, almost like he was expecting you not to. “Of course, I came, why wouldn’t I? Besides, it sounded like you wanted to talk about something important.

He nodded, his face suddenly hardening over with a looked of determination as if he were preparing for something. “Yes, it’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time. Y/N, you must have noticed my affections for you by now, and I’ve been wanting to ask you…Will you marry me and become my queen?”

After he had finished his proposal, he handed a beautiful ring to you and looked at you with a hopeful gaze.

You stood frozen to the ground. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Legolas was asking you to marry him, and by every force, in Middle Earth, you wanted to say yes. But you knew that you wouldn’t be able to handle the responsibility of being a queen, so with a heavy heart… You refused.

Legolas face fell into a heartbroken expression and his eyes glazed over with tears. “I’m sorry Legolas, as much as I do love you, I wouldn’t be able to handle the responsibility of ruling. So, I can’t marry you…I’m so sorry” You felt your voice crack on that last word and your eyes filled up with tears. You couldn’t look at his broken expression any longer, so you turned on your heel and started walking back to your guest chambers, leaving Legolas standing alone in the palace corridor.

Even after you had left, Legolas stayed in the corridor, still as a statue, with stray tears running down his face. He had been so sure that you would marry him, but you had refused him.

Legolas had been so caught up in all his thoughts that he hadn’t heard his father’s footsteps approaching him. “My son, what will you do to convince her to rule alongside you?” Legolas shook his head in defeat, "There’s nothing I can do ada, she doesn’t love me.”

Thranduil tilted his head at his son, "Oh, but she told you herself that she returns your feelings, but the burden of queenship frightens her.…She just needs a little encouragement to truly persuade her.”

Legolas looked up at his father, hope building in his heart. “What do I tell her ada?” Thranduil gave his son a knowing smile before placing a hand on his shoulder. “it is not your words that persuade her my son, but your actions.” Legolas gave his father a confused look before listening eagerly to what his father had to tell him.

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

You awoke feeling groggy and exhausted. When you had returned to your chambers after rejecting Legolas’ proposal, you had willed yourself to fall into the land of dreams to escape the feelings of heartbreak you had. But now you had returned to reality and you were slowly coming back to yourself, albeit slowly.

You opened your eyes to see Legolas staring at you from the bottom of your bed. You froze in shock, thinking you might still be dreaming, or maybe even hallucinating but sure enough, the longer you looked, the more it settled in your head that you were not dreaming.

You try to sit up in bed, but it’s like you’re frozen. You were only brought out of your trance by the feeling of Legolas’ hands on your rubbing up and down your legs in a comforting motion. You stare at Legolas in shock, and his only reply was to give you one of his cute smiles.

“L-Legolas…What are doing…?” You asked quietly, afraid of what the answer might be. Legolas only tilted his head at you and gave you a soft understanding smile.

“Darling, I know that this must seem all of a sudden but I can’t allow you to slip through my fingers. No one else makes me feel the way you do. I can’t lose that. You said you felt the same, didn’t you? You said that you loved me back?” You nodded, curious as to where he was going with this.

“Well darling, I will show you that staying with me despite your anxiety and fears of ruling will be filled with pleasure and love. Will you allow me to show you how much I love you?

After what seemed to be an eternity, you finally found your voice, “Y-Yes, I trust you.” Legolas smiled at your words before speaking “Lie back and lift your hips for me, my love.” You did as he asked, and he gave you a loving look before lowering his head between your legs and started to kiss up your thighs.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the pillows, enjoying the feeling of his soft kisses against you. He slowly made his way up your thighs until he reached your centre. He pressed his thumb against your sensitive clit and because you weren’t expecting it, you let out a soft whimper of his name.

“Oh darling, you have no idea the power you hold over me, you could rip my heart from my chest, and I’d still adore you.” Before you could reply, he started an onslaught of licks against your aching pussy causing you to cry out in a mix of surprise and pleasure.

“Ahhhhh~ g-god yes! P-please don’t s-stop! It feels so good!” You heard Legolas laugh at your desperation “Shhh, darling, don’t want anyone to know how good I’m making you feel when we aren’t even married yet, now do we?”

You were already a panting, whimpering mess and he’d barely touched you, you don’t know how you were going to get through the rest of the night.

“No stay still and let me please you.” He lowered his head between your legs again but this time he was nowhere near as merciful to you as he’d been before. He was holding nothing back and you just couldn’t keep quiet. You weren’t even bothering to keep your loud cries of pleasure muffled because you knew it would be a wasted effort.

“Legolas – Legolas – ah right there! You cried, thrusting your hips up in a desperate attempt for more of the blissful pleasure he was giving you. Legolas listened to your desperate pleas and began to thrust his tongue into you, and within seconds of him doing that, you were ready to cum. “Ah! Ahh! Gonn- c-cum! Please! Please! Please, can I-”

Legolas cut you off before you could finish “Let go for me darling, I want to see how gorgeous you are when you let go.” His commanding tone was too much for you, and you finally let yourself tumble off the cliff in a peak of pleasure.

When you finally came down from your high, you saw Legolas staring at you with utter adoration in his eyes, and the overwhelming look of love in his expression was too much for you to handle, causing you to look away.

“Look at me darling, I want to see those beautiful eyes.” You turned your head back to look at him as he brought himself up to lay beside you, all the while his adoring gaze never left you. “Have I convinced you to stay my love?” Legolas asked, his voice full of hope.

“And if your people don’t accept me as their Queen, what then?” You asked in a worried tone, but Legolas only cupped your cheek lovingly, “Our love comes first. Everything else is secondary. I’ve waited so long to build up the courage to ask for your love, and now that I have it, I’m never losing it. All I want is you. All I’ve ever wanted was you.”

Your heart was filled with such love at his confession that you felt as though it might burst. And how could you refuse him? After everything he had done for you, how could you not agree?”

“Alright Legolas, I will be your Queen, and love you to the end of days.” His eyes gleamed with happiness and he put the ring he had placed in your palm earlier, onto your finger, before he pressed his forehead to yours in a loving gesture.

Cementing your love for each other till the end of time.

#Yandere Legolas x reader Smut #Yandere Legolas #Legolas x reader Smut #Legolas x reader

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fandompride101 · 3 years

Text

Girls Gone Wild

Raven's POV:

"Exit on the third floor. Take a left!" Kori's voice guided me on the intercom. I followed her directions and took a sharp left. I ran down the long hallway, the lights flickering as I went. "The door on your right!"

I swung open the door and chased down the stairs as fast as I could. I could feel it though. This place was about to blow and I was still in it. I couldn't portal because I didn't have the strength, but I ran with all my might.

I reached the first floor of the building, pushing the door open with all my strength. The light from outside blinded me for a few seconds, but I ran anyway. I got past a building and sunk into the alleyway.

There was a loud explosion.

I sank to the ground, keeping my back against the cold building. I took a few seconds to breathe and get my head on straight.

"Rachel!" Kori's voice cried out in panic as she searched for me. "Rachel!"

"I'm over here, Kori," I said weakly.

She rushed over to me and helped me to my feet. I put my arms around her for support as the tall Tamaran helped me over to the Titan car. Once we got close enough to the car, I let her go and climbed into the passenger seat.

"Kori, the next time you ask to have a girl time..." I turned to look at her as she started the car. "Remind me not to go." I sank into my seat and clutched my aching side. Even though it was already healing, I was so weak that it would take time for this bruise to heal.

Kori chuckled and shook her head, as she started our drive home.

Kori had begged me yesterday to go for a girl's day out. She had in shopping and spas in mind, not almost dying. I had said yes on a whim. I really don't get to spend much time with other girls and honestly, I didn't have anything better to do.

What started off with eating lunch on a nice pear, ended up being a chase down with some bad guys that robbed a bank. They ran from the bank to some wear-house, where we followed and caught them. Of course, they bombed the place and a few of them got away.

"Dick will not be very pleased." Kori shook her head. "He had told me not to go on any calls today and enjoy the day with you."

"Hey, we had fun." I smile. "You kicking that ogre of a guy's butt was pretty awesome."

"And you are getting quite good at hand-to-hand combat, Raven." She smiled at me. "You are right, it was a pretty good day."

"But next time we should stay in and do a movie night," I tell her, being completely serious. Today had been a close call and had drained me more than I cared to admit.

"You are right." Kori gave a tired smile. "When we get home how about we watch movies. I can get the guys on patrol for the night."

I forgot I was even on patrol tonight.

"That would be great, but I might fall asleep during the movie." I chuckled. As I did that my side started to ache more so I grasped it with both hands. "And maybe some ice tonight?"

"How bad was it?" She gave a concerned look.

The ogre man had kicked me in the ribs and gave me a bad bruise. I am sure it is already purple by now. After the ogre did that, Kori came in like a badass and kicked his butt.

"I'll be fine," I said, trying not to worry her. "All I need is rest."

She nodded and pulled into the drive of the Titan Tower. She opened the garage door and parked the car. When the car had stopped, I slowly climbed out of the car, holding my side. I let my cap fall over me, hiding my arms.

Kori and I walked into the tower together. When we stepped into the living room, the TV was on and showed us fighting on the screen. Garth and Jaime were commenting on something before they turned and saw us.

"Kori, Raven!" They jumped to their feet.

"You're on TV." Garth pointed to the screen.

"You did good work," Jaime commented.

"Where are the others?" Kori ignored their looks. I did the same.

"Dick and Damian are having a training session." Garth sat back down. "I am pretty sure one of them has killed the other by now."

"I bet Damian killed Dick." Jaime joked.

"Boys, have you don't your homework?" Kori eyed them.

The boys stood up and slumped out of the room. I followed Kori to the training room.

"If they have been in here the whole time, there is a chance they haven't heard." Kori turned to me. "Let me explain everything."

I nodded and followed her in.

Right away my eyes caught Damian slash at Dick's feet. Dick jumped up and narrowly missed Damian's sword. Dick countered with his bow staff, hitting Damian's side with it. Damian hissed in pain and then swiped the feet out from under Dick.

"Do you yield?" Damian said with his sword to Dick's neck.

"Yes." Dick coughed and sat up. Damian put away his sword and offered his hand out to Dick for help. The brother took it and stood to his feet.

Both of them seemed to notice us standing there.

"Ladies." Damian nodded to us.

"Hello." Kori stepped forward. "I want to explain before you hear it on the news."

Both of the boys looked at Kori. "What?" They both asked. Dick was confused and Damiana was a tad annoyed.

"Well, you see..." She turned to me. "We were going out to eat when we heard of a bank robbery."

"You didn't go... right?" Dick stepped forward, looking right at Kori.

"Well..." Kori backed away.

"We went," I confirmed. "The bank robbers ran from the bank to a warehouse, where we caught up to them," I explained to Dick. "We took care of it."

"Took care of it?" Damian said, pulling up something on his tablet that he had grabbed without me noticing. "It blew up!" He handed the tablet to Dick. Dick started reading.

I was glad for my cap now. I knew that if I had shown any of the guys that one of us got hurt, we wouldn't have heard the end of it. I stood up taller, trying to hide my injury. I wasn't going to let them know.

"We hadn't known it was more than just bank robbers," Kori argued.

"And you didn't call for help?" Dick said, handing back the tablet.

"We didn't have time." Said Kori.

Damian didn't say anything. I turned to look at him while Kori and Dick squabbled. Damian's eyes were on me as if he was searching for something. For some reason his eyes made me feel naked and exposed. I looked away.

"It says here one of the girls was injured." Damian interrupted Kori and Dick.

Dick looked at Kori and then at me. I looked at Kori, pleading with her not to say anything. She understood.

"It was a lie," Kori said confidently.

Damian looked at her. I prayed that she wouldn't crack.

"Well then, if no one got hurt, why does Raven have her cloak on?" Damian didn't turn from Kori.

"I am fine," I say. I knew to sell this lie I had to show him, so I opened my cloak and held myself up, telling my hands not to reach for my side. When Damian seemed satisfied, I put the cloak back around me.

"Look, it was a small brawl and everything is fine now," I assured them. "We just came here to see if you guys would allow me off patrol tonight. I am beet."

Dick stood up straight and looked between Kori and me. After a second he nodded. "Fine. I'll fill in for you tonight."

"Thank you, Dick." Kori smiled.

He turned to her. "I am still not happy neither one of you saw the need to call us."

"We handled it," I told him.

"The building was destroyed." Damian stepped towards me. "If one of you had been in there, then this would be a whole different conversation."

If only I told him right there that I only escaped by seconds. I could just see his whole head-turning red and steam coming out of his ears. But I won't tell him. I mean what he doesn't know won't kill him.

Shortly after that, Kori and I went up to our rooms and changed into something more comfortable. I was already gaining my strength back, so I teleported downstairs and snuck up a cooler of ice.

Kori and I went to her room and watched The Office. Kori had shown me this show a while back, so now when we have girl bonding time, we usually watch it in silence. Kori and I shared the ice and nibbled on snacks that she hid up in her room.

"Damian was very angry when he read that someone had gotten hurt today." She spoke while the show changed to another episode.

"He did?" I tried to focus on the intro of the episode.

"It was almost as if he cared one of us had gotten hurt?" She said in an almost suggestive tone.

I looked at her, and she was smiling back at me. "I don't think..." I didn't know how to play it off. Her gaze on me made me turn red with embarrassment. "He was just angry, there is nothing to it."

"Hmmm." She said and turned back to the episode.

I tried to focus on the show, but my face was still red. The way she made it sound almost like Damian cared, but that can't really be. It was just an illusion.

We spent the rest of the night watching shows and soon fell asleep. I woke up around one in the morning and teleported to my bedroom for the rest of the night. I was already feeling better, but when I looked the bruise was still on my skin. The bad thing about bruises that even when my body heals, the bruising color stays on my skin for a while.

******

The Next morning I got up like normal and took a shower. I didn't really feel up to an early morning training, so I decided to go on a walk around the grounds. It was a lovely morning with the birds calling and no one in sight.

I was past the gate before I even realized it. I turned back to look at the giant 'T' in the sky. Titan Tower has been my home for many years now and looking back now, I was lucky to have Zatanna watching over me when I came to earth.

Zatanna was the first person to show me kindness when I came here. She was the one who saw the good in me and got me on the Titans. I owed her so much.

"Rachel?" A voice spoke out from behind me.

I turned and saw Damian in his workout gear. He lowered his sword that he was apparently training with and stepped towards me. I stepped forward, closing in the distance between us.

"Damian." I nodded to him.

"What are you doing out here?" He put his sword into his belt.

"I could ask you the same." I nodded to the sword.

"I was training." He stood straight. "Now you."

"I am going on a walk." I stood straight to mimic him.

He nodded in understanding. I turned back, thinking the interrogation was over. I heard his footsteps behind me before I saw him. He was soon walking my pace by my side.

"What are you doing?" I gave him a sideways glance.

"I am walking with you." He said, looking straight forward.

"Okay." I nodded and continued on my path.

"Where are we going?" He said after a few minutes of silence.

"Not sure," I say, brushing my hands across a bush on the path. It was the perfect time of year where the trees were turning green and it wasn't yet too hot out.

He just nodded and we continued on our walk. Honestly, it was nice to have him walking next to me, and even though we weren't talking, it wasn't boring. If it was anyone else like Garth or Jaime, it would be a long and annoying walk, but with Damian I was fine.

"What are you thinking about?" Damian turned to look at me.

"Nothing." I shrug.

"So are you going to tell me the truth about yesterday's events?" He gave an all-knowing look. I tried to play it off.

"I am not sure what you are talking about." I turn so I am not facing him.

"Raven, you are quite good at hiding things and lying, but you should know by now that I can read you. I have been trained by both the League of Assassins and my father. I know you're lying." He grabbed my arm and stopped me from walking anymore.

"Fine." I turned to him. "There was a hick-up and someone got away," I say, trying to avert his attention from what he was surely asking.

"Someone got away?" He stepped back.

"Kori and I have contacted the Justice League," I inform him.

"If this was a normal bank robber there would be no need for the Justice League to be involved." He looked me right in the eyes with his stern emerald eyes. "What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing." I lie.

"Rachel."

"Fine, it was a bit bigger of a situation that we ran into," I tell him. "It wasn't just a normal robbery and to our knowledge, they were working for someone high up than our pay grade, so we handed it over."

"How much high up of a pay grade?"

"Lex Luther," I tell him. "I mean it's a guess, but that is who Kori and I believe it to be."

"What makes you think that?" He tilted his head to look at me. He was adorable like this. Oh shut up mind!

"There were just a few boxes and things there that made us believe Lex had funded that place." I shrug.

"What was inside the boxes?"

"Weapons." I turn away. "As I said it was more than we bargained for."

"And you didn't call because..." He sounded annoyed.

"There was no time." I turned to him. "Look, I know you don't like that we stumbled on this for some reason, but it all happened so fast! There was no time to call for help."

He looked at me as if trying to see if I was hiding anything else from him. I huffed and turned back to the path and started walking. Of course, he followed.

It was a while before he spoke up again.

"And you got hurt?" He said, taking me away from my thoughts. I didn't answer him. "Look, I saw how you held yourself. Even with your cape, I could tell something was off in your walking."

"I was hit by an ogre," I say not looking at him. "It doesn't matter now because I have rested and it has healed."

"Even the skin coloration?" He asked.

How did he know that? I haven't ever told anyone that I heal but the bruising color doesn't go away. I mean a select people know, but none of them on the Titans. HE READ MY FILE!

"Your snooping now!" I turned to look at him, stopping him in his tracks.

"I need to know about everyone's weaknesses and strengths on the team. You should too if you were smart." His words cut through me.

I huffed and started fast walking away. Damian was close on my trail, following me every step. The faster I walk, the faster he did. When I knew I couldn't outrun him, I knew I had to portal.

I stopped dead in my tracks and back kicked Damian in the chest. He stumbled back.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos" I conjured the portal and stepped through, letting it close behind me. I was fuming now. How dare he impose on all of our privacy and then accuse us of not being smart to do the same.

I was in my room, pacing out my anger. I knew this was silly of me to let this get to me, but I couldn't help it. How dare he call me dumb! He had no right to those files. They were only for Kori and any of the Justice League members.

Did Kori give him the files?

No, she wouldn't have let that happen. She would have stopped Damian if she ever found out. Damian had to have gotten the passwords and stuff from his father. He was insufferable!

"Raven?" Kori's soft voice took me out of my thoughts.

I walked over and opened the door to find Kori with a concerned look on her face. I let her in and closed the door behind her.

"I heard your footsteps in the hall. Are you alright?" She asked me.

"No," I mumbled in anger.

"What happened?" She put a calming arm on my shoulder.

"Damian has access to all the files on every Titan." I clench my fists together. "He has been reading on all of us."

"He can't do that. He doesn't have the codes." She tells me.

"He does too. He read up on all of us." I look her in the eyes. "Those files have private things that I haven't told anyone. He doesn't have any right to read those."

She studied my face. "Look, I will talk to Batman." He gave me an encouraging smile. "But if he has read up on you, I think it only fair to read up on him."

"What?"

"Don't tell Dick, but on Tamaran, it is only fair that if someone has a one-up on you, that you even the playing fields." She smiled at me. "If you wish, I can give you Damian's file."

"Really?" I wasn't sure if that is what I wanted, but I was interesting.

"Yes, but you can't tell anyone I gave it to you." She nodded. "I will give you the file after breakfast if you wish."

I nodded.

She left the room, giving me one last encouraging smile. When I closed the door I didn't know if I felt any better. I knew that looking at the files would make us even, but it would also be something that my father would have wanted.

There was another knock at the door. I opened it a crack to see if Kori had forgotten something, but it wasn't her.

"I am sorry." He said, pushing the door open wide enough for him to step in.

"Come on in," I said sarcastically, closing the door.

"Look, what I said... I didn't mean it like that." He walked over to my bookshelf and started to look at the collection of books I had created over the years.

"Damian, please go," I asked him.

"Look, I am sorry. I was angry. I am not sure why, but I said those things from anger." He turned his head to look at me.

"So it's not true. You haven't read all the Titan's files?" I questioned.

"No, I have." He nodded. "But you are not dumb for not looking at them yourself."

"Damian, those files are only for the Justice League, they are not for you!" I came closer to him, giving him a piece of my mind. "There are things that some teammates don't need to know about each other!"

"That is not what I was raised to believe." He said a matter of factly.

"I don't care if you were raised to kiss cows!" I point at him in the chest. "You making that choice to invade our privacy is not 'cool' and very unwelcome."

"I am sorry..." He began.

"Save it!" I held up my hand, stopping him. "I don't want to hear it. You are just like my father and invading personal space. If I wanted you to know something, I would have told you!"

I stepped back.

He stepped towards me. "That is not my intention."

I turned so I didn't have to look at him. I heard him sigh in frustration at me.

"Look, I am sorry. I did it a long time ago when I first join the Titans. I haven't looked at them since. I do have picture memory, so I apologize, but I have changed from the boy I was when I first came." I felt his hand on my shoulder.

I knew I was supposed to be anger at him and push away his touch, but his hand felt warm and welcome. I leaned into his touch for a moment before I realized what I had just done.

I turned to look at him, and our eyes met.

"Raven, I am sorry." He bent down so our eyes were at the same height. "I only brought it up today because I wanted you to admit you were hurt, but I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I am not so angry about that as... mortified," I admitted.

"Mortified?"

"You read my files. The things on there... They are..." I looked away. "My father was ruthless, and what's on those files is proof that I am weak."

"Weak?" He pulled my head up so my eyes met his. "No, Raven, when I read those files I was amazed by your strength. You stood up to your father even after all the things he had done to you. You could have easily been his pawn all your life, but you changed that."

"No..." I began to protest.

"Raven, when I first came on the Teen Titans, the first real call was against your father and the entire Justice League. You stood firm and faced him." His eyes were hopeful. "You are not weak and those files prove that."

"They still have all those horrible things I had done before I took the leap to come here." I protest again.

"Stop it!" He held onto my face, firm. "You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. I don't care what the file says."

I sigh and lean my face into his hands. He is strong and holds me, and a feeling of safety comes over me. When I open my eyes again I give a small smile, which he returns.

"Breakfast?" I ask, pulling out of his hands.

"Yes." He nods and follows me out the door. When we get into the kitchen we sit down and eat our meals in silence. Garth and Jaime are having a fight over who is the best hero to fight in the dead of winter. I tune them out and eat my cereal.

Kori comes in sometime later with a plain folder. She passes it to me when she sits beside me. I take it and hind it under the table. There was no need for Damian to find out about this folder now.

I ate the rest of breakfast in silence and when I am finished, I head up to my room with the folder. When I get inside I look down at the cover of the folder. I don't really want to look at this now, but something is telling me to hold on to it.

I put it in the top of my desk drawer and put it out of my mind. Damian might have looked at everyone else folders, but I don't want to be like my father and read it for vengeance. I don't need to.

*********************************

Bonus (This takes place in the future of this same storyline)

I teleport into my room, exhausted from the workout Dick put me through. When I got into my room, there was a certain green-eyed boy in my room. I bushed my hand on his shoulder and went to my dresser for my clothes.

I pulled out some PJs and turned to Damian, who had yet to acknowledge me.

"Damian?" I stepped closer to him, looking over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. He had a yellow folder in his hands. Oh shit!

"What's this?" He turned up to look at me.

"Um..." I was at a loss for words.

"This is my file." He stood up and looked at me. I was mortified.

"Yes," I said, not able to look him in the eyes.

"Why do you have my file?" He questioned. "How did you get this?"

"Well, um..." I glanced up at him. "Kori might have given it to me when we had that fight a while back about you reading my file."

"That was like three months ago." He looked down at the folder in his hands. "You read this three months ago?"

"No." I look up at him. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "I haven't read it. I didn't want to."

"Why didn't you?" He looked surprised.

"It would be something my father would have done." I didn't want to hold anything back from him. "I kept it for god knows why, but I promise I didn't read it."

He looked at me in silence for a minute, debating something. Probably to yell at me or kill me. Damian had every right to be angry, he did, but I hadn't even thought about the folder in so long, and I was already so tired.

"Alright." His voice pulled me from my downward spiral.

"Alright?" I asked.

He handed me the file. "You were quite angry about me reading your file. And I don't want to hold anything back from you. You may read my file."

I looked down at the folder and up to him. "What?"

"Raven, I don't want to hide anything from you. I like you, and if you would like, you may read this file. I will answer any questions you may have." He nodded and walked over to the bed, laying down.

I walked over and looked down at him. He looked relax.

"Why?" I didn't understand.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me close to him. "I like you, Rachel Roth. I don't care if you know what is in that file. I want to be honest with you." He pulled me for a kiss.

When our lips touched it was like our first kiss all over again. I had been with this boy for a few months but lived with him for years and somehow this boy still managed to sweep me off my feet and surprise me.

I loved him.

#damian #Damian Wayne #Teen Titans #teentitans #Robin x Raven #raven x damian #damirae #raven roth #damian x raven #raven #robin #justiceleague #DC comics #DC animated universe #dc animated movie universe

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

let me be your ruler.4

Warnings: guns, dubcon, noncon, fingering, treats.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (dark!mob!) Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: There is no escape but it doesn’t make staying any easier.

Note: Well, I finally got around to finish the chapter I had half done but we finally get some deliciousness.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You didn’t move as the city streets flashed by. You stayed huddled against the car door; paralyzed and petrified. You couldn’t even look at the man next to you as he kept one hand on the wheel.

You felt his gaze at every stop and his hand lingered ominously between your seats. You touched your chin where he’d pressed the muzzle; a lump lodged firmly in your throat.

He passed through the gates of his extravagant estate that loomed before you like a pale giant. The engine hushed and his door opened and closed. As he opened yours, you nearly fell out, your seatbelt loose and forgotten. He caught you and pulled up straight.

“On your feet, princess,” he lulled and slung his arm around your shoulders. “You got lots of time to get ready for dinner. I just gotta talk to my chef.”

He led you up the steps and a man in a dark suit moved to open the door. Peter nodded at him and carried on inside.

“Any problems, my security is always here to help…” he ushered you towards the stairs, “and I can keep an eye out myself.”

His gaze ventured above you and you turned to follow his attention. You squinted and the nearly imperceptible lens gleamed back at you. The camera was set into the wall sconce and was only obvious if one were looking for it. Your imagination stormed as you wondered how many were scattered throughout the mansion.

“Go,” he nudged you back to him, “upstairs. Our room.” He caressed your chin. “I was saving the surprise but the closet just to the left of the bed. Put on something nice.” He leaned in and pecked your lips. “I’ll expect you in about…” he drew away and checked his watch, “One hour, princess.”

Your eyes began to water as you stared back at him. You nodded and turned away slowly. You grabbed the railing and lifted your foot. You climbed in dread and at the top, you looked back to find Peter still watching you. You shivered and turned down the hallway.

You retraced the steps you’d taken the day before. The bedroom decked in black and white greeted you on the other side of the door. You shut it carefully and hesitated as you faced the room. You crossed to the glass doors that opened onto the balcony and looked out across the vast yard. You’d never felt so empty.

After a moment, you turned back and went to the closet. It was a whole other room hidden behind the bedroom. You stepped inside and looked around at the array of dark suit jackets, pressed pants, and steamed shirts. A shelf of carefully folded socks and ties over a set of six narrow drawers. A bench ran below the higher shelves with polished shoes lined up across them and you sat as brighter colours caught your eyes.

A dozen dresses in varying shades of pink, red, purple, and black, made of sequins, prints, velvets. Below, another cubby with at least six sets of heels and to the right, a glass cabinet of jewelry. You sat forward and held your head in your hands. It was some dystopian romance; twisted and terrifying.

When you found the strength to sit up, you were still trembling. The adrenaline remained as hot as ever. You closed your eyes and saw the gun, heard that awful click. You stood before you lost your will entirely. You took the black velvet dress with the tiny gems set like stars into the fabric.

You changed in silence. The dress was snug and hugged your form perfectly. You took a pair of black heels and bent to shove your toes into the pointed shoes. You stood and considered the diamond necklaces, studded cuffs, and dangling earrings. You didn’t touch any of them as you went back into the bedroom.

You swept into the bathroom and startled yourself in the mirror. You saw the fear, the desperation in your feature. Your face felt brittle. You fixed your hair as best you could. There was a finely organized kit of make-up and accessories nestled on the broad counter beside an electric razor and leather zip-up bag.

You thought of keeping your face bare. You thought of Peter and the rage in his eyes as you came out of the station. If he was disappointed, he would let you know. Appease him, that was all you could do. You reached for the mascara and blinked away your terror.

You weren’t certain of the time when you finished. You went back to the bedroom and looked out again onto the green grass. The gates were closed. A dead end. You couldn’t turn back, you couldn’t bypass it, you had to face it. There was no choice. Peter would get whatever he wanted and it would be easier if you just gave it to him.

You winced as the door opened behind you and you turned to face Peter. A smirk slowly spread across his face as he saw you and he raised a brow. He waved you to him and licked his lips.

“Gorgeous, princess,” he said, “dinner’s waiting for us.”

You tried to smile but your face was stiff and your lips quivered. As you neared him, Peter took your hand and pulled you close. He swayed you against him as he looked you in the eyes. His gaze flicked down to your mouth. He kissed you and purred.

“I don’t know if I’ll make it through dinner,” he whispered as he drew away. “you look delicious.”

You swallowed as you searched for your voice. “Thank you,” you murmured.

He winked and parted, keeping a hold on your hand as he tugged you through the door. Down the hallway and the stairs, across the foyer then through to the dining room. The lights were low and the table was set for two. You sat across from Peter and a man in all black offered you wine.

You shifted awkwardly as you waited for your glass to be poured and then Peter’s. He watched you as the man told him that dinner would be served shortly. You took the cloth napkin and spread it over your lap to keep from fidgeting.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said and you glanced at him. “the staff. Usually just a maid to keep things tidy and the chef for mealtimes. Some hired hands occasionally for the garden and the pool…” He squared his shoulders. “You’ll never have to lift a finger… well, in some contexts.”

You pressed your lips together. You were speechless. How had you gone from the certain doom of the alleyway to the luxury of this ridiculous house?

“You okay, princess?” He asked.

“I…” Your lips parts but you stopped as you heard another enter.

You waited patiently as covered plates were set down and uncovered with some explanation of the meal you didn’t hear. The server left and you stared at the chicken breast drizzled with some fancy sauce. You raised your eyes cautiously.

“You were going to shoot me. Am I supposed to be okay?” You asked.

He laughed, a soft roll in his throat. “I’ve done a lot worse to others for less.”

“So what? I should thank you?” You gripped the edge of your seat and tried not to show how afraid you truly were.

“Princess, I’ve treated you kindly. Dressed you up, taken you out, made you cum.” He winked and looked you over vulgarly, “all I’m asking is for your loyalty.”

You picked up your fork and looked at your plate. There was no arguing; no choice. Only what he wanted.

“Fine.” You muttered.

“Look, princess, let’s not get into all this right now. Let’s enjoy our dinner,” he said, “As far I’m concerned, the slate is clean. I’ve forgiven, but I won’t forget.”

You speared a green bean and took a bite. You nodded and chewed. Whatever kept him happy, kept you alive.

✨

Your skin was covered in goosebumps as you entered the bedroom. Peter’s hand lingered on your low back and grazed your ass as he shut the door and passed you. You stood, frozen, and watched him move around. He shed his jacket and loosened his tie. His eyes found you with a glimmer.

“Ah, princess, I forgot.” He said as he pulled his tie off completely, “I’m still working on your side of the closet.” He unbuttoned his shirt casually, “You can grab one of my shirts to sleep in… unless you’d rather nothing?”

You shook your head and carefully slipped your heels off. You picked them up and went to the closet. Peter followed you inside as you replaced the shoes in their cubby.

“Thanks,” you said quietly as you went to the row of shirts and looked them over.

He came up behind you and ran his hands over your shoulder, sliding the straps down your arms. As they fell limp, he reached out and took a plain white shirt from the bunch. He pressed the hanger to your chest and leaned close. “That should fit you nicely.”

You took the hanger and parted from him. You felt him watching you as you shimmied out of the dress and turned your back to him. You unhooked your bra and quickly buttoned up the shirt over your panties.

You heard his soft footsteps as he closed in on you. His fingers tickled along the hem of the shirt and delved beneath. He grabbed the side of your panties and tore them down your legs. You flinched and stepped out of them. He gathered up your clothes, one piece at a time, admiring the warmth of your body still radiating from the fabric as he did.

He left you and slowly, you crossed the closet. He dumped the heap into the hamper and turned back as he took off his shirt. He dropped it into the basket without looking and continued to undress. You lowered your head and paced listlessly around the room.

“Lay down, princess,” he said as he came around the bed, “you’ll need your sleep.”

You stopped and peeked up at him. You wordlessly approached the bed from the other side and climbed up after him. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him, pressing your head against his chest as he leaned against the plush pillows. You shivered and his hand glossed over the curve of your body.

“I already took care of Halle. As far as she’s concerned, you’re spending the night. Not a lie, is it?” He said coolly as his hand moved up and down your back, “and tomorrow, you’ll forget about your work. Call whoever you need but you won’t have time for all that. Not for a while.”

“I… can’t do that,” you breathed.

“You work from home.” He said evenly.”

“How… yeah but that doesn’t mean I don’t have deadlines.”

“Find someone else to pick up the slack. You’ll have time to do so before we arrive.” He said sternly. “You’re clever, you’ll figure it out.”

“Peter, I-- where--”

“Shhh,” he slid his arm out from under you and rolled over to shut off the lamp. He nestled against you again as he turned onto his side. “It’s taking everything I got not to keep you up all night.”

You let him embrace you and closed your eyes. You found it hard to relax as your body remained rigid and your nerves skittered through you. You let out a shaky breath and grasped for sleep. It was your only escape but it seemed just as unlikely as any other.

✨

Peter drove as you held your phone to your ear and listened to Selene rant from the other end. You rubbed your eye socket and yawned as you nodded along with her complaints. She was right, you were leaving her in the lurch and you would owe her, however your debt to the man beside you was more pressing.

“Look, I’m so sorry and I know I’m asking a lot. I promise, I’ll take care of everything else but I just need you to take the rest of my assignments for the week. Yeah, I talked to Melinda, she’s not happy either. And it’s extra pay, please?”

“This is really short notice,” Selene sighed and you heard the tapping of keys.

“Yes, it is, but so was your spring vacay and I covered you, didn’t I?” you pleaded. You felt bad for bringing up the favour but a work relationship hardly mattered against the steel hidden beneath Peter’s jacket.

“Fine, fine, I guess I owe you,” she resigned, “I’ll let Melinda know.”

“Thanks,” the line died abruptly as Selene grumbled again and you swiped away the window.

“Sorted?” Peter asked.

“Yeah,” you answered quietly and crossed your legs, leaning heavily on the door as you watched the scenery without, “I still have to get some things done myself, I can’t just drop everything.”

“You’ll find the time,” he slithered and reached over to squeeze your thigh then slipped his fingers over your phone. He took it and dropped it in the cupholder, “just relax.”

“You still not gonna tell me where we’re going?” you asked.

“You know, princess, you ask a lot of questions,” he said, “that could get you in a lot of trouble and I think we’ve had enough of that.”

You took his warning and pressed your lips together. You tickled your cheek with your fingertips as you sank into silence. He was headed upstate, you knew that much, but you didn’t know much beyond the stinking city.

You closed your eyes and stifled a yawn behind your fist. He had you up early but you hadn’t really slept at all. After the few hours you managed, you woke up to his hand under your shirt, nestled along your vee. He let you go without venturing further but promised you more by the end of the day.

He packed a bag for you from the spacious closet and as you descended, he was presented with several shopping bags from which he picked a few more pieces to add to the haul. He drove you to your apartment to grab your toiletries and allowed you your tablet for work purposes.

You explained to Halle you were going away and she listened with envious curiosity as she watched Peter. She slipped in an “I told you so” and you withheld your bitterness. It was all her fault and you could at least be glad that you’d be away from her.

You mind lingered as you wished to be anywhere but in that car. You looked over at your keeper as he drove, his brown eyes distant as he watched the road. He didn’t wear his usual tailored suit, instead a button-up with a few buttons undone and a pair of pale slacks with some expensive loafers. A gold chain peeked out around his neck and his large gold ring caught the sunlight.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were uncomfortable in the short lilac skirt, the flare of it had it slipping up often. Your top was pure white and nearly see-through over the bubblegum coloured bra. It wasn’t your style but Peter had been meticulous in his selection. The chunky heels were better suited to someone at least a decade older but he insisted they suited the look.

You wrinkled your forehead as you pondered on his eye for detail; likely he only went for what showed the most skin. You hated that. Even when you were a care-free co-ed, you never had the courage to flaunt your thighs so openly. You planted an elbow against the door and the seat belt strained across you.

“Tired?” he asked above the low hum of the radio, “I think a nice glass of wine will help when we get there.”

“Just a little,” you murmured and stayed as you were. He had to keep reminding you he was there, that you were trapped with him.

“Another hour,” he said, “then we can settle in and relax.”

You nodded and his hand trailed along the hem of your skirt again. He squeezed your leg and growled. His hand remained even as you shifted and he pulled your legs down from over the other. His fingertips tapped along your inner thigh and traced circles along your skin. You trembled and he chuckled.

“I know, I know,” he said, “I’m having a hard time waiting too.”

✨

The beach house stood above the shoreline, a short deck stretched over the water and a balcony opened up to a sparkling pool at the rear. It was unlike anywhere you’d ever been before, even that cottage you’d stayed at for your sister’s bachelorette. It was the type of lifestyle porn you saw in magazines or in those reality shows about wealthy old wasps.

Just like his house near the city, there was a staff ready and willing to tend to your every desire. You wanted little but that you knew you couldn’t have. Peter kept his arm around you as he showed you around the exorbitant interior and ended the tour in the bedroom. Your bags were already waiting on the bed.

“How about a swim?” he said as he unzipped the Louis Vuitton duffle and pulled out a red one piece and laid it out on the mattress, “I’ve been waiting to see this on you.”

You reluctantly neared and flipped it over. There was no ass, only a thin strip that would have your skin burning with embarrassment. You picked it up by the thong and squinted.

“You don’t have anything… with a bit more fabric?”

“You’ve got a nice ass, you should show it off,” he purred as he pulled you to him and stretched his fingers across your skirt, “princess, I like a little… bite but I thought we came to an understanding.”

You gulped as you stared into his eyes. The naturally warm brown had turned dark and foreboding. His jaw squared as he held you against him.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds and all that,” he lowered his voice and his breath tickled your lips just as he drew you in for a hungry kiss, “let’s not have this conversation again.”

He parted and left you to stare at the red bathing suit. He rolled his shoulders as he went to the door, “I’ll meet you by the pool, I gotta make sure everything’s running smoothly.”

“Sure,” you muttered and lowered your chin.

He left and closed the door lightly. You undressed and laid out the disposed clothing on the bed. You shimmied into the scanty bathing suit. You felt almost naked as there was almost no back at all and the high vee threatened to show more than you wanted. You checked yourself in the slatted mirrors that hung along the wall and cringed. He would be able to see everything you tried to hide.

You took a towel from inside the attached bathroom and wrapped it around you. You ventured out through the hallways and found your way to the sliding doors that opened onto the mosaic patio. You inched over to one of the sunbathers and sat on the edge as you picked at the top of the towel.

You flinched as a shadow appeared in the open door. A man in a pale blue shirt and white cotton slacks greeted you with a tall cocktail with fruit bubbling from the bottom.

“Miss,” he set it down on the table, “compliments of Mr. Parker, he would like me to inform you he will be out shortly.”

“Thank you,” you said awkwardly and gave a weak smile.

The man left and you reached for the glass. You smelled the sweet alcohol and sipped. It made your cheek twitch and you stirred the concoction with the little plastic stick that twisted at the top.

“Princess,” Peter’s voice startled you and you looked up. You set aside the drink as he strode through the door, a silky black robe hung open over tight swimming briefs.

His stomach was tightly muscled and as he shed the extra layer, his arms were thick but wiry. He was in good shape, much better shape than you, and you tried not to stare so obviously as he tossed the robe over another chair and turned to you.

“So, you just gonna watch the water or… you gonna have some fun?”

He neared and took your hand. He pulled you up and tugged the towel down so that it fell to your feet. He eyed you as he backed away and took you with him, turning you to check out the back. He slapped your as and laughed as you squeaked and reached back to shoo him away.

“Please,” you turned to face him, “it’s a bit…” you looked down at yourself, “it’s not much.”

“I’d rather nothing but the staff is still here,” he clung to your wrist and urged you towards the pool, “maybe later.”

You followed him down the curved steps that led under the water if only to hide your bareness beneath the surface. He guided you deeper and spun you against the wall of the pool. The tile was cool as the water swayed around you. He kept you trapped against him and brushed your nose with his.

“You really do look amazing, princess,” his hand dipped under the water and he felt along the vee of the suit, “last night…” he exhaled and pecked your lips, “it was so hard to… I was so hard.”

“Peter,” you pressed your palms to his chest.

“I wanted to wait but seeing you like this,” his fingers slid under the suit, “I can’t…”

He shoved his hand under the fabric and cupped your cunt. He held two fingers against your cunt and swirled them. You gasped and clawed at his chest. His eyes were smoky and his touch determined. He kissed you again, this time longer as his fingers slickened along your folds.

He pushed his legs between your and spread them wide as he pushed along your entrance. You clenched as he poked around and slid his finger into you. You pulled back and bit your lip. He bent his head and his mouth explored throat. You trembled and whispered a soft, ‘please…’ but he either didn’t hear you or didn’t care.

He slipped in another finger and kept his thumb firm against your clit. The swimsuit crumpled to one side and he rocked his hand as he grinded against your body. He nibbled the flesh along your neck and purred as you tensed around him.

“Princess,” he murmured and nipped at you, “you’re perfect.”

He curled his fingers and squeezed, the pressure building between his thumb and his index. He pushed the heel of his hand against your bud as he lifted you off the pool floor. He sped up as quiet mewls flew from your lips. As much as you didn’t want it, you couldn’t stop him and your will to resist dwindled as he plucked at your core.

Your hands crawled up over his shoulders and you gripped him tightly as you felt an orgasm blooming. You bent your legs and arched your feet as your eyes rolled back and you pushed your head back into the tile. His deep groans made you quiver and as the water moved vigorously between your bodies, the tension snapped.

You cried out as you came and your walls rippled around him. He tickled your neck with his nose as he eased you through the afterglow and you winced as he lingered in your cunt. He lifted his head and slowly slipped his fingers out of you, dragging them over your clit.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth roughly. The sloppy noises set you alight as he pressed against you and his other hand crept along his bottoms. He wiggled as he pushed down the elastic and you felt his warm tip poke against you.

You moaned into his mouth as he lifted you higher and his tip glided along your wet folds. You went rigid and tried to turn your head away. He grasped your chin and eased you down onto him. He growled into your mouth as he sank into you. Your lashes fluttered, your eyes damp as you were all too aware of your body’s betrayal.

“Oh, princess,” he dragged his lips over your cheek, “you’re so precious.”

He began to move against you, slowly as the water rippled with each tilt of his hips. His breaths were long and ragged. Your chest burned as your heart pattered and he pulled down the straps of your swimsuit and freed your arms. He bent to bite at the top of your breasts as he played with your nipple.

You whimpered as his pelvis rubbed against your clit and the flames licked at your thighs. Your arms fell over him as you hugged his head desperately and his motion grew more frantic. His breaths turned shallow and humid against your chest and he lifted his head again to kiss along your chin and throat.

“See how good I can be to you,” he hummed, “all you have to do is be good, princess. So good.”

He fucked you until you were witless and wild-eyed. Another climax crashed down over you but he gave you little time to recover as he kept writhing against you. You reached back and gripped the edge of the pool and he took a step back, holding you at an angle from the wall as he pounded into you, the water stirring around you.

He stared down at the water and watched how he slid in and out of you. He snarled and sped up as he covered your clit with his thumb. You moaned, a steady drone as he forced another orgasm from you and shivered as you clenched around him.

He bared his teeth and gritted them as his eyes roved up your body and clung to your dazed face. He didn’t look away as the muscles in his neck tensed and he grunted through his own climax. He growled as he emptied himself into you, a warm deluge amidst the cool water.

He pulled you down onto him entirely as he drew you away from the wall. He threw your arms over his shoulders and hugged you against him as he carried you through the pool. You felt fuzzy and fiery as he stayed inside of you and spun slowly. His breaths steadied and he cradled your face as he jerked his hips. He smirked as you gasped and your walls twitched.

“You understand now?” he rasped, “what I can do for you, princess?”

Your head lolled and you nodded dumbly. You hunched forward and rested your head on your arm as it hung over his shoulder. His hands ran up and down your back and he nuzzled your hair.

He walked you back into the wall. He thrust and slapped his hand against the tile and you felt him growing hard again, “I can make you my queen.”

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #mob!au #mob au #mafia au #mafia!au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #spider-man #series #let me be your ruler

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kim-poce · 2 years

Text

Alex and Neo 46 - Changes

Febuwhump 2022 - “Let me see”

Masterlist

Part 1 | Previous | Next

CW: past trauma, brief gun mention, brief mention to past noncon, fear of rejection.

=====

Alex has two kinds of rules: the ones meant to keep Neo safe, such as the ‘Don’t hurt yourself’ one, and the soft rules like ‘Don’t wander around the woods’ which is also meant to keep Neo safe but Neo would not suffer consequences if he brakes it. Neo noticed that Alex stopped giving him soft rules when he started breaking each one of them as if they were a to-do list.

Due to this, Neo was surprised when Alex gave him an actual order. “Don’t go upstairs today.” Neo didn’t know what Alex was planning but in a few minutes everyone knew about the rule, no one could go up there until said otherwise. There were two guards in each stair, Neo didn’t think he would ever get used to how much power Alex and Evie have.

It was an hour after it, Neo was behaving for once, reading a –stolen– boring book he found in Alex’s office when Jasmine knocked on the door. “A-a minute,” Neo said, Jasmine doesn’t enter his room ever, not even when he was with Evie; Neo liked to have this personal space.

He opened the door slowly. “W-what are y-you here for?” He made sure to word his question well since Jasmine could that them in the literal sense. He was afraid a ‘Hi’ would only earn him a greeting.

“Your sister is downstairs, do you wish to see her?” Jasmine said in the same calm tone she always use, but this time she had an eyebrow raised, waiting for the answer.

Neo’s body started to shiver, he looked up at Jasmine to seek the lie, the joke, the trap but there was nothing. He had so much in his head to be able to speak Why? How? Since when? She will be sad when she meets me. Who brought her here? Why did Jasmine come here instead of Alex? She will be disappointed when with who I become.

“W-w-why?” He managed, not worried about clear wording anymore, not when he could barely speak at all.

“She showed up at the front gate and asked to talk to the owner,” Jasmine said, her tone was amused, and Neo wasn’t sure if this was better than the usual nonchalant tone.

She must think Alex is the owner. Neo managed a small smile through the hurricane of thought and emotions, Aurora didn’t change a bit. That didn’t change the fact that she had been so much reckless, and now she was just there, under the same roof, a few stairs and hallways away.

And he changed a lot. Neo tried to breathe, all of sudden nothing seemed real, he didn’t know who he was, he wasn’t the teenager kidnapped four years before, he wasn’t the mutt that Ash tortured for the last years, and he wasn’t Neo, the person with no memory covering away from everything.

Neo hated to feel fear, hated to way his body seemed to escape his control, he can’t breathe the way he wants, he can’t force himself to move or to run, as if there was someone else controlling him, he hated this.

But he hated even more to see Aurora suffering, the despair on her face has been in his mind since the day in Paul’s, he took a deep breath, “Here,” Neo tried, forcing the words out, this is his body, it’s supposed to obey him. “Call her,” his voice is small and he doesn’t think that he’ll be able to force more words out while Jasmine looks down with her too-calm face.

Jasmine nodded and said something that Neo didn’t quite grasp, as she walked away Neo let himself slide to the floor, trying to think about something else, taking a deep breath as he felt the sweet smell of flowers coming from the window, he listened to some bird singing in a tree far away, as if the world was peaceful as if everything was okay.

-----

The man –Neo– accepted to talk to her, Aurora was confused and so scared, anything could happen, and although she was relieved that no more guns were being aimed at her head and that she had been taken inside the mansion rather than into some basement or something she was still anxious; the place was huge, it was easy to feel small in there, she looked around and there was only enough ornament for it not be oddly empty but not more than this, there was nothing personal as if no one there tried to feel at home.

The woman lead her upstairs, to an empty floor that screamed that no one lived there, Aurora felt a little bitter for knowing that a place so large only housed a couple of people, they went further up to a well-lit floor without a single closed window, to be honest, she was relieved, the place had some personality, there were flowers outside the windows and yellow paints on the walls, the was also some cool statues that she felt like touching, she would, if all of her energy wasn’t being used to keep moving through her fears.

“Turn to the right and you will see Neo,” Jasmine said with her nonchalant tone, “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

Privacy? For what? she had no time to ask before Jasmine turned around and started walking, she almost asked her to stop but the anxiety didn’t let her. Aurora took a deep breath and forced her –slightly trembling– legs to move.

Aurora wanted to take a quick glance before actually walking there, but this would show her fear, and she can’t show her fear just yet, so she put on her I-don’t-give-a-damn face and turned the hallway.

Her facade fell in the second she saw him, Kenneth, he was sitting on the floor while nervously fidgeting with his fingers, as soon as he saw her he entered a room and closed the door.

“Hey!” She shouted running at the door, forgetting the place she was, forgetting the danger, she could only think about him, even so, she didn’t try to open the door, she didn’t want to be rejected, he doesn’t remember me, she recalled the day in the store, but she didn’t want to believe it, she wants him to recognize her, “Kenneth!” she shouted again, “It’s me Aurora… your- your sister,” remember? She didn’t ask, she was too scared of the answer.

“... Yes,” a small voice answered for the other side of the door.

-----

“Sorry,” Neo said, leaning on the door, sorry that I can’t speak, sorry that I changed, sorry that I left you, sorry that I forgot you! “Sor-”

“Thank you,” Aurora said, and Neo could hear that she was crying, “Thank you for saving me, I’m sorry I… tried to find you, I tried but…” It’s not your fault! Neo wanted to scream, “I’m sorry, please… just please talk to me, I miss you.”

I miss you. Neo didn’t know that those words would hurt so much, she misses Kenneth, he isn’t him anymore, he is no one, his memory says he is a human, Alex also says so but it doesn’t feel like all of it, and each time he looks at himself all he can see is the scars from being a bad pet, when he closes he eyes she can see Ash’s nasty smile and feel their hands on him. Kenneth didn’t have this. He only worried in get enough money to eat, fought random kids, and laughed with Aurora.

“I…” he took a deep breath, he had to talk, “I c-changed,” he managed, before sobbing softly.

Aurora gave off a small laugh at this, and he looked at the door as if this would make him understand her reasons, “Yes you did,” she said, making something in his heart hurt, “You have an adult voice now, it kept changing to some keen sound before,” she said, and Neo couldn’t understand what she meant, “You also got taller.”

“T-this,” deep breath, “I-isn’t what what I’m saying,” he said in a low voice, but somehow the words didn’t choke in his throat as much as before.

“Well,” Aurora said with a sweet voice, the same tone she used when planning some troublesome thing as a child, “there is also your hair,” she was still crying, “It’s a mess.”

Neo let out a small laugh, of all things this is what she choose to talk about, this didn’t really sound like her, she wasn’t this… calm, maybe she changed too, maybe everyone changes after so long, “I I tried t-to cut,” he said, not saying that this was a petty attempt to make his hair less grabbable.

“You suck at it then,” she said with a laugh, “Let me see it, I know how to cut hair now, I even made some money out of it, well, I did ruin some people hair before learning, but you know, we just ignore this.”

Neo laughed a bit again, still looking at the door, suddenly the problem was just his hair, suddenly it was just him and his sister, no Ash, no even Alex, just the two of them, “Okay… I would… I would like it very much,” he said before slowing opening the door.

=====

Taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain, @whump-blog, @wolfeyedwitch, @octopus-reactivated, @whumpkinpie, @equinix, @stuck-in-this-mortal-form, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @neverthelass, @latenightcupsofcoffee, @rose-pinkie, @febuwhump

#Alex and Neo #Neo #Aurora #Jasmine #whump #past trauma #febuwhump #febuwhump2022 #febuwhumpday5 #my writing #let me see

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cheelduh · 3 years

Text

How to tie up a cute boy

(Highschool Au)

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Parts: 1 2 3

Word count: 4K

Warnings: Swearing, Scaramouche abuse, no Signora slander this time, shit humour.

Synopsis: "Why are you doing homework?" Childe groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

Note: Unedited yet again besties. Tysm for reading :) I got Childe after losing him to mf MONA, istg it was the most stressful moment of my life.

The clock ticks with its pendulum, ridiculing you as it holds the time. The gentle whirring of the air conditioning in the background serves as the icing on the cake to your pent up aggression.

You try not to glare at your phone too much after receiving a text from Childe that told you not to worry, that his dad picked him up and that he was in the comfort of his home, letting the flu blow over.

It took a lot of convincing from his part earlier that morning to get you to go back and actually attend the rest of your classes, making sure to check up on him every break plus the additional "bathroom breaks" you usually never take while in class.

"I can't let you get in trouble for me." He murmured with a small smile that pumped your blood a little faster than usual. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry your pretty little head."

You do exactly that.

You don't even know why you're so worried. He's sick, not dying. Not to mention, you aren't even his girlfriend let alone his friend to care so much.

Your intrusive thoughts don't waste any time. You latch onto the one thought that takes over. He's probably dead. Lying in his bed in a heap of pillows, passing peacefully while his parents are in the other room. He's dead.

Okay, he's not dead. You intrusive thoughts sure do one hell of a job. He'll be fine, and in no time he'll go back to being a reckless distraction in your life that you need to surpass. Just another obstacle to add onto the list of things life has thrown at you.

But for an obstacle, he sure is kind of cute.

You refrain from bashing your head on the desk. School isn't really a preferred environment on your list of top ten places to shrivel up and die.

Speaking of death and all that is evil, why is Childe always on your mind? He takes up every nook and cranny of your day, constantly, and truth be told it's starting to boil your piss.

Every time you close your eyes you see his smug smile, and hear his stupid laugh. He's an annoying little prick who gets a rise out of exasperating you. Yet here you are, terrified by the warmth that blossoms in your heart when you so much as hear his name.

The final bell rings at long last, conveniently before you bite your tongue to avoid screaming, and not another second is wasted once you launch yourself out the door. You dodge through the crowd of students in the hall that are buzzing in excitement from it being a Friday afternoon, and you would be too if you weren't so damn hung up over a ginger with a battlekink.

Locker in view, you make a beeline and spend the next two minutes fumbling with the lock in your hands.

"Woah there cutie," Lisa speaks up playfully. "At this rate you'll break the poor lock with your bare hands."

For a moment you're surprised at her sudden appearance, but then remember that it's normal for her to worm her way anywhere.

"It's just—this lock is being dumb okay? It has no reason being a pain in my ass but it wakes up every day and chooses violence." You hiss through your teeth, a sharp metallic ring invading your ears when you lose it and jostle the combination lock against the door of your locker.

Lisa winces, but smiles teasingly nonetheless. "Want me to give it a try?"

"Please."

Lisa has the door open at record speed.

"I love you Lisa." You confess wholeheartedly, gripping at your chest. "I love you so much—"

"Yeah yeah," She waves you off with a grin. "Now hurry up and go save your boyfriend from the common flu. Archons knows he won't make the night."

You flush at the word "boyfriend" and don't give much thought to the insinuation that lies within the rest of her sentence.

Sliding your skateboard under an arm, you spin on your heel just to bump straight into Scaramouche, who's won the scowl of the century on his face. He's the last person you want to see right now, but apparently the universe wants to have a pissing match with you.

"Give this homework to that idiot Ginger." He shoves a stack of papers into you. "Tell him that once he's done circling the drain, I'm gonna kick his ass." He then leans in, murderous glint in his eyes. "And if you ever touch me again I'll take a shit in your cereal. That's not a threat, it's a promise."

You shiver at the thought of him squatting on your Cheerios, hands becoming clammy as you try and justify yourself. "It was an accident."

Your pitiful excuse earns you nothing from the navy haired boy. "It'll be an accident when I murder your entire family, three generations over."

"Hi Mona!" You wave excitedly over his shoulder at the body of students that are totally not Mona. With elation he fails to conceal, Scaramouche turns to look at the speed of light.

You take the chance to make your escape—not before waving to Lisa, chuckling to yourself. He's down bad.

With great expertise you file your way through the flock of students chattering near the entrance. , you confidently place your skateboard down on the sidewalk, ready to—

Wait—where does he live again?

You sigh heavily, ignoring the sadness as you thank the universe internally for pulling the reigns on your disastrous plan. Checking up on Childe at his house? With his family present? Making a complete fool out of yourself? What are you thinking? The possibilities are horrendous. He probably doesn't even think of you like that, he just likes a challenge and you pose as one.

You turn away to make a run for it in the direction of your home, all the while ignoring the nagging worry in your chest for Childe. He's probably fine anyways, you don't need to check up on him, and if you did he'd likely find a way to spin it and tease you relentlessly.

Although somehow, the thought of being teased by him isn't as dreadful as you'd like it to be.

Suddenly, an idea graces you, one that guarantees your misery by sating your obligation to check up on Childe. A litany of curses escape your mouth. Genius really, the amount of ways you can think of doing something that'll end in your demise.

"Adeptus Xiao." You whisper apprehensively, already regretting your decision. "Adeptus Xiao." Glancing around your surroundings, you barely notice the shadow that looms over you at your backside.

"What do you want mortal?" Unbeknownst to you, he strikes out of nowhere, making you jump back several meters. You manage to muffle a surprised shriek.

Xiao is Venti's -6 ft boyfriend, the vicious epitome of an eboy. He has a scaled tattoo covering up the majority of an arm, a few piercing holes in his ears, all matched up with a disinterested look. Somehow, he always appears out of nowhere if you call out his name. It's sort of disturbing in a way.

His amber eyes pierce through you, forcing a shudder of fear and dread to lace your blood, almost as if he can sense you shittalking him in your head.

With shaky hands, you ask, "Can you tell me where—"

"No."

"You didn't even hear me ou—"

"No."

"Please?"

He refuses to at least pretend to think about it for a moment.

"No."

"Why?" You frown, stomping your foot on the ground childishly.

"Because." He retorts with a lack of interest, but doesn't further explain his point. English teachers must love this kid.

"Okay," You say slowly, casually inspecting his form as you come up with an idea, briefly remembering Lumine mentioning it to you. "How about I give you my share on almond tofu Tuesday."

The lack of interest on his face wavers slightly. Bingo.

"What do you want mortal?" Xiao mutters gruffly, arms crossed, face morphing into subtle annoyance.

You wrack your brain for a proper answer. You can't just outright ask him or it'll seem like you have a thing for Childe, which you unfortunately do, but you'd like to keep a semblance of integrity. Ah yes, the homework!

"I gotta deliver these to Childe." You outstretch the pile of worksheets in your hands. "Except I don't know where he lives. Can you tell me?"

Xiao's eyes glint with danger. "Did you summon me for the trivial task of giving you an address?"

You nod furiously.

"Do humans have no shame?" Its rhetorical. Expressionlessly, he closes his eyes with intent focus, doing what you assume to be locating Childe's exact location.

He blinks an eye open, reaches a hand out. "Give me your phone." Palm waiting.

You hand it over to him almost desperately.

One glance at your bubbly phone case and he doesn't even try to hide his distaste. He taps a few times, then hands it back to you almost immediately.

On the screen is maps, and Childe's home is about a fifteen minute walk away.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

"Easy," He mutters, leaning back against the school gate as the remainder of students walk past the two of you. "Locating demons that need subjugating is but a simple task."

There's a pregnant pause. Demon.

"Childe's a demon?" You gasp, even though you've always had your suspicions. Hence the reason you invest so much in demon-cancelling charms.

"What? No." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, and you note that his irritation grows the more questions you ask. "I had a physics project with him last semester."

That's why the charms don't work.

Your mouth forms an o, in fear that if you keep this conversation going on any longer, he'll snap at you. Especially when your next line of interrogation involves how he's able to appear and disappear into thin air.

It's a magic trick you'll want to master whenever Il Dottore has another conniption fit in the middle of the hallways after Kaeya tells him he looks like he has skid marks.

"Thank you." You say instead, trying to preserve his regard, but by the time you meet his gaze he's already gone with the wind.

—

Childe's home is surprisingly humble, considering the amount of fat stacks of cash he carries around in his fanny pack so care-freely. It's a normal suburban home from what you can tell, a little bigger than normal with a double garage, neatly mowed lawn and a few forgotten decorations from the windblume festival. A series of water guns lay forgotten near the entrance, making their presence known when you stumbled upon them.

It's hard to remain unphased. Especially since such a normal looking home has bred someone as ruthless as Childe.

Maybe it not the home, you think. Maybe it's the way he was raised. You recall a few glimpses of his mother in middle school, but because of your worse for wear memory retention, you can't ballpark her personality type.

As your thoughts wander further down to his parents and early childhood, villain origin story and what not, you're pulled out of your concentration when the door opens. The possible implications of being here are most definitely not in your favor.

Childe's mother is a stunning woman in her mid-forties who sure as hell doesn't show it in that jaw-dropping sapphire dress, topped off with a brilliant smile that makes your knees weak. Like mother like son, you suppose.

With her sudden appearance, strangely enough, you can remember how good her tiramisu bites are.

You take a moment to respond, swallowing thickly, only to stare at her stupidly.

His mother doesn't waste another second before ushering you in, oblivious to your star-struck expression. "Y/N? L/N Y/N? My have you grown. I remember when you were only this tall." She lifts her hand up a little above her waist, the jewels on her fingers dazzling with every movement. "How is your mother doing?"

"She's doing alright, busy with the clinic." You're able to find your words, smiling back at her, able to get somewhat familiar with her warmth. "I hope I'm not intruding. Childe forgot some homework." You say, heaving the short stack up.

"Ajax?" She laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe he's going by that now. I wonder when this phase will be over. He may act tough but he's such a softie, has the biggest heart."

You, in between concealed emotions and giggles that threaten to leak, try to hide the oncoming grin but it's impossible. "Well he's got you to thank for it."

"You flatter me too much Y/N," She fixes the up do, pinning back the blonde hair that deftly frame her familiar cerulean eyes. "I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Her words make you waver momentarily. The fondness you've refused to share, the drawn out stares in the halls, the lingering touches, you don't want to acknowledge it but it's there. Whatever it is.

"I'm so sorry for cutting this short dear," His mother sighs, grabbing her keys off the counter and placing her wallet in an elegant handbag. "My niece is getting married and we're already late. I told Ajax I'd stay if he didn't feel too well but he said he could handle a headache. That boy, I swear, always tries to power through."

You nod in understanding, but wait a minute. A headache?

Scrunching up your face, eyebrows furrowed, you ask. "Headache?"

She frowns, applying another layer of her rouge lipstick hastily in a nearby mirror. "I know dear, how unfortunate. The school nurse said it's a migraine, and I shouldn't fret much, but a mother can't help but worry. If only he weren't so stubborn, like his father."

As if on cue, a loud honk comes from outside.

"That must be him!" She exclaims, hurriedly sliding in her heels, turning back to look at your awkward figure. "Ajax is in his room, it's the second door to the right upstairs. I've made some lasagna for the kids, you ought to have some as well, I'll be upset if you don't—" Another annoying honk cuts her off, to which she scoffs, shaking a fist. "That old man, I'll strangle him in his sleep. I must be going now, goodbye dear." She reveals a twinkling smile at you one last time, waving a slim hand before picking up her heels and making a run for it.

The door closes with an unceremonious thud, gust of wind in its trail, leaving a bewildered high schooler in its wake.

Snapping out of your haze, overwhelming tides threaten to drown you whole. Being in Childe's home, alone, with him a handful of stair steps and a wall or two away, your cheeks are set ablaze.

Now that his mother's gone, you take a second to really look. There are a few toys littered in front of the TV, home covered in with soft throws and coordinated cushions, a lazy sectional plopped right in the middle. The marks on the furniture with all the stories, the light hued mismatched frames hanging on the walls and on all the table, so many pictures of those that resemble him, his brothers, his sisters, his family. You can almost hear the echoing laughter in the halls, the childish squeals and pitter patter of tiny feet slapping the hardwood floor.

This is where he grew up. This is where he retires to after a long day full of gratifying fistfights. This is where he was raised to be who he is today, ambitious and reckless, with the absurd dream to one day rule the world. This is his home.

It's...like being wrapped in blanket, safe and cozy, surrounded by all the love in the world.

Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the outlines of a younger Childe, two missing teeth and eyes full of dreams, hugging the side of his father's shoulder because his small arms can't wrap around them. Not just yet.

You make your way over to the staircase, which has even more frames littered across the wall, one that falls short of hiding the marks of a green crayon—another slice of domesticity you aren't quite accustomed to.

The reality sets in, and you come to a conclusion. This home is definitely not an environment for growing psychopaths, Childe just beats the odds like he beats up kids on the daily.

Your fist hovers over his door as you contemplate abandoning the sheets on a nearby table, but his mother was so sweet and polite, so incredibly hospitable, you wouldn't have the heart to make a run for it.

"I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Three consecutive knocks. If he doesn't answer, you'll leave them at the door.

"Mama," Childe's muffled groans stem from the other side, and oh, you want to revel in the grave undertone of his voice because it's certainly not a common occurrence. "I told you I'm fine. You can go okay? I don't want you to be late, just need to sleep it off."

You blink, lips curling, and then knock again.

"Mama," He whines again, and it has you grinning mischievously. He's a mommy's boy, he has to be. The thought envelopes your heart with a newfound fondness. "Just come in and hurry."

You eagerly take in the room once you slip in, eyes scanning over every little detail, until they zero in on the heap of sheets smack dab on the single bed, a pair of feet dangling off the edge, topped with a comforter thrown over leisurely.

Childe's facing away from you, head dipped in between his shoulders, probably trying to find a position that's more comfortable. He's shivering, sweating at the same time. His mother must've been too preoccupied to notice. This isn't the first time he's used his exceptional bullshitting finesse.

"I can't believe you lied to your mother," You cross your arms, leaning back against the door.

With a jerk, Childe flings into a sitting up position, wide awake and aware of everything that is going on, a stark contrast from nearly seconds ago.

He blinks at you in shock, once, twice, rubs his eyes a bit, relaxes, then leans back, out of it completely. "For a sleep paralysis monster, you sure are kind of cute."

"For and idiot you sure are an idiot." You snort back.

"Wait a minute," He mutters slowly, jaw dropping. "You're actually here?!"

Ignoring his question, you opt to slap the papers on his desk to ignore your clammy palms. "Homework."

"And here I thought you came here all this way to be my personal nurse." He smirks, recovering from his momentary shock fairly swiftly. Doesn't refrain from giving you that shit stain of a bad boy grin, even with a flushed face and concavity under his eyes.

"I can be your personal mortician instead."

"I didn't know you were into role play babe, but I'll take what I can get." He winks, but is punished by a sequence of coughs that earn a wince from you.

"Headache?" You tease after he quiets down, but he remains as cavalier as always.

He sighs, sides of his lips still arched upwards. "My parents barely have any time to themselves, it's so hectic with the kids. What kind of son would I be if I couldn't even give them this?"

He must've threatened Barbara.

"You're," You inhale, briefly letting the silence hang between you two, mulling over what you wish to convey. sweet.

"Irresistible? Hot? Sexy?" He starts casual, arrogant smirk widening.

"Kind of not a complete asshole, is what I was going to say."

"Careful girlie," He narrows his eyes on you, playful lilt in his tone. The comforter is allowed to slip past his shoulders to reveal the goods that lie underneath, the complete naked chest of a post-puberty highschool boy who sprays too much axe. Full pectorals are something to pay for, stringed with smooth muscles that ripple their way over his toned shoulders. "If you keep teasing me like this, I can't promise I'll be the nice guy."

"One more time from the top," You bite back, avoiding staring at him for too long. "Without the congested nose this time."

With great expertise, he weakly throws a pillow at you, and you watch it exceptionally land at your feet, barely grazing the tips of your socks.

"Impressive," You whistle, not impressed.

He pouts, shivers, then is dunking his head back into the welcoming embrace of his plush collection of pillows.

With a sigh, you plop down on his chair, grab a pen and begin calculating derivatives.

"What're you doing?" He doesn't even turn your way, voice muffled.

"Homework," You reply nonchalantly, trying to calm your nerves. "unless you want me to get you something to eat, considering you puked out your gogurt on Barbara's shoes earlier. Congrats by the way, you're hit listed by her fan club."

"Why are you doing homework?" He groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

He really has an IQ below room temperature.

Burying the formidable obligation to clock him in the face on behalf of society, you slowly get up to approach his bed, to which he grins widely in disbelief.

Apprehensively, you climb onto his bed, and he scoots over, excitement as clear as day. His hair's a wild mess from all the shifting, almost makes you want to card a hand through it. Your heart nestles it's way in your throat at the sight of his blazing blue eyes.

You pity him for what you're about to do.

"Relax Childe," You lean over him with confidence you never knew you had to begin with, face hovering inches before his. Your fists strategically grip the comforter on either side of him. "We have all day after all."

Although you attempt to pay no heed to his quivering hand that snakes up to find solace on your hip, you momentarily shiver at the tenderness.

He's eating this up and leaving no crumbs. Closing his eyes in anticipation, his lips tremble when he tries to close in the distance.

Abruptly, you cross both handfuls of sheets over his body, tying them securely in place to keep him docile. He struggles in your grip, eyes snapping open in surprise. "Wuh-What."

"Did you really think you had a chance?" You cross your arms, stepping back to get a good look at your handiwork.

"Honestly?" Childe huffs, struggles some in his restraints. "I wasn't really thinking."

"Typical," You scrunch your nose up, unscrunch, and then exhale. "You stay here and I'll go make you some soup. Well, not that you can really move but you get the idea."

"You're really going to leave me here like this?" He pouts cutely, melting you, and the sick bastard knows of his power.

"Relax," You wave a hand, "I may be evil but I'm not Scaramouche."

Meanwhile, Scaramouche sneezes as he tries to ask Mona out, falling straight on his ass from the kick back, making a complete fool out of himself. Mona doesn't mind though, finds it endearing.

Back at Childe's room, he raises a brow, expectant.

Going through the five stages of grief, you do something you've been wanting to do for a while, succumbing to the immense feeling.

Closing in the distance between you two, you suck in a breath and gently tilt Childe's head to the side. He blinks quickly, not quite expecting your sudden forwardness, about to say something that doesn't matter as soon as you place a tender peck on the side of his cheek.

Time stops, the world coming to a halt completely. A moment made in history, one you won't ever forget, fresh in both your minds from forward on.

And then you stagger away as if you've been stabbed.

"Soup!" You squeak, appalled by the sheer boldness of your actions. "I'll go make soup while you rest."

Childe, frozen, stares at you incredibly confused, and then beams.

Dear Archons, what have you done.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #childe x reader #childe #fanfic #genshin oneshot #kaeya alberich #dottore #genshin tartagalia #tartagila #lumine genshin impact #mona genshin impact #aether #barbara genshin impact #ajax x reader

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sweetbunnykook · 3 years

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Only You (9)

Word Count: 13,197 // [SPOILER IN WARNINGS] angst (mention of double homicide, gore/blood, miscarriage, mistreatment of a corpse, panic attack), smut (period sex, cunnilungus, blowjob, throatpie, body worship, mommy kink), brief fluff, toxic relationship, manipulation

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.

A/N: If you are still reading this series, I wish you the best of luck. Please leave a review if you can and let me know your thoughts. - 🐰

You were every mother’s blessing – kind, caring, intelligent, obedient. She watched you stumble and fall many times but you manage to catch your footing with a smile. Despite your yearning for independence, your mother kept you in her embrace as all mothers do. In some ways, it would be loving; things like helping you choose the venue for your wedding and holding your hand while you inquire about using chiffon instead of silk for your veil. You were such a wonderful daughter that she didn’t wish for a son even when you decided to carve your own path rather than follow your father’s footsteps into medicine and entrepreneurship.

It’s why your mother sits in the parking lot of your apartment complex, dumbfounded beyond belief, teeth gritted. She looks up at your window to see Jungkook staring back down at her, unable to read him. She holds his steel hard gaze, daring him to look away or pull the curtains close.

He doesn’t take the bait.

Pulling the shifting gear and rolling out of the parking lot, she peels her eyes away and takes several deep breaths.

There is no way on God’s green Earth that you fell in love with a middle-class photographer. Of all people, of all the men in your circle, affluent men coming from money both new and old, you couldn’t have fallen for a lowly photographer who doesn’t care about you enough to know his place and leave you be. How could Jungkook not know that you aren’t meant to live like this? How could he be so selfish as to hope for marriage when he could barely afford the ring he wants to slip onto your finger?

Your mother throws back her head and cackles. The only reason you were able to study abroad during college, the only reason why you could walk into an upscale neighborhood and look like you belong there, is because she followed the natural way. She never loved your father, not even once, but he was a good husband and an even better financial asset. Not only did she not have to lift a finger after tying the knot, but she also became part of the untouchables.

There’s a sense of power and invincibility that comes with wealth. It comes softly, like a whisper of wind that keeps a dandelion intact; it’s invisible to the eyes but she can feel it when she shakes hands with politicians, celebrities, businessmen and women, important people doing important things.

It took nearly twenty years of work. Getting close to the Kims, making sure you attend the same school as their children, running into Namjoon when you visit their vacation home, and letting his parents witness what a great wife you would be for him – it was all going so well. Puberty treated you well enough too that she didn’t need to consider getting you minor cosmetic procedures when you graduated high school. Sure, you could lose a few more pounds, but you were healthy and fit to give the Kims, and her, the grandchildren who will guarantee a new generation of wealth and prosperity. Gone are the days when she could only dream about creating the perfect family, respected by the social circle and the general public. You, her lifelong project, made it all come true.

Yet, life proves to be cruel once again.

As soon as she set her eyes on Yori she knew she was trouble. She didn’t object when you stayed out later and wore a bit more makeup than what was deemed graceful for a woman of your age. She knew that if she’d raised her voice, you would be compelled to rebel (it didn’t help that you were as stubborn and thick-skinned as your father). However, she wanted to warn you, just a tiny bit, that Yori is the kind of girl whose eyes strayed to find a new target and you were a hair away from standing right in the middle of that mark. She knew, because Yori had the kind of eyes she had as a twenty-year-old woman who climbed that very same social ladder.

You were such a good daughter, so intelligent and transparent, that she believed you would have the backbone to come into your mother’s arms at the first sign of danger. It looks like you were just as clueless as the rest of the sheep you called your bridesmaids.

A Jeep honks from the next lane as she swerves into the street and bangs on the steering wheel with the heel of her hand, her Cartier bracelets clanking together in unity. The light turns yellow and she stomps on the accelerator, lurching the vehicle forward.

At the end of the day, she knew it was her fault. She could have warned you earlier, planted seeds of doubt in your mind, even pull Namjoon back into your arms if you realized soon enough; but alas, your day was chosen to be one of desolation and misfortune. Her poor daughter, the apple of her eye, the one precious gem of a person who would propel the family into royalty, whisked right away from under her nose.

She shakes her head, tires screaming as she veers into the next semi-busy lane, watching the sun disappear into the horizon as the familiar roads darken.

Letting you mourn on your own terms was the biggest mistake of her life, second to not following her gut feeling and keeping Yori away from you. She knew about this photographer lover of yours who has the face of an angel and seem to follow you like a puppy wherever you go. From a distance, she’d watched you wrap your arms around him and kiss him with such fervor in a public space she felt bile rise for the first time looking at you – her most precious creation acting like a hussy for all to see.

The boy seemed to be in love with you as much as you depended on him. She waited until you would be sick of him like the ones you took to bed after the wedding night (yes, she knew about your shameful conquests). She waited countless nights, praying that you would come to your senses, that you won’t refuse her advances, until months later she sees you living with him and sharing meals and completely forgetting about her. Yes, she had been mainly focused on making sure the investors haven’t pulled out and that you still had a name for yourself after the wedding. It wasn’t an ideal response as a mother because you needed help and she knew you’d throw a hissy fit but you must understand that while you had been taking men to bed, she had been busting her ass saving what’s left of the family pride.

The Kims also attempted to salvage your reputation, but they won’t do so at the cost of Namjoon’s name. The true reality is that parents will only care for their own blood in the end.

It’s why she finds herself confused and drenched with sweat when the car halts in front of the white villa lined with jasmine bushes. There’s a new gate installed, probably to keep away reporters during the first few weeks after the wedding incident hit the papers, and it momentarily angered her that she must now ask an intercom to enter a space that should have been a gift to you from the Kims.

Her hands tighten around the steering wheel with the intent to squeeze something warm and pulsing. She still remembered the day Yori knelt on the floor of your dressing room and she still remembered the strands of hair that squeezed her fingertips as she tore the whore’s flower hair clip off her head. The yelling, the panic, the uproar, the whispers that came from the guests – it was humiliation to the tenth degree.

Wiping the bead of sweat off her temples with the back of her hand, your mother hushes the engine and places the key in her coat. She steps out of the vehicle and marches up to the gate and buzzes in, huffing when her heels wobble on the cobblestone steps.

A few heartbeats later, Yori’s voice pours through her ears and reached into the crevices of her scalp like a dull headache.

“Hello?”

She leans forward. “It’s me.”

There’s a long pause before the gates click open and the stone stairway up to the front door reveals itself with a moist gleam. The garden sprinklers die down just as she steps onto the platform and makes her way up to the front door where Yori is leaning against, one hand on her stomach, the other hand tucking her fringe away from her face. She notes that the knitted silk dress, tied above the swell of her belly, is from the latest Prada collection.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she smiles. “Come in. Welcome to my home. I apologize for the mess…I had a baby shower earlier today and help is gone for the rest of the week.”

Your mother wanted to rip that smug grin off her face but she kept her eyebrows still and her lips soft.

“Excuse my intrusion.”

She walks into the spacious living room, eyes quickly glancing at the stacks of presents on the couch and the empty bottles of sparkling water and champagne sitting on the coffee table. She can recognize, just from the color of the boxes, that the gifts were not cheap. Had you married Namjoon, this would have been your palace.

“I’m in the middle of decorating the nursery. If you don’t mind…” Yori says, not bothering to look back as she makes her way up the stairs. She didn’t have to turn around to see that steam is coming out of your mother’s ears. “Can you help me with unrolling the mat in the hallway? I can’t bend over very well.”

Your mother trails behind in place of answering, watching Yori’s hip swing side to side as she makes her way up the stairs and then turn to leer down at the older woman. It’s a bit laughable, Yori thinks, as your mother pretends not to ogle at the stacks of Tiffany blue boxes tucked beside the living room couch like shoeboxes. Her face flushes when she meets Yori’s eyes once more but she doesn’t comment as she follows the young woman into the hallway just a few feet away from the stairs. Her head turns at the smell of fresh paint to see the nursery on her left, the door left open as if the room expected her arrival.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Yori fixes her fringe once more. “He needed to attend a conference in Ginza. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“There’s no need.” She leers at the stacks of presents next to the crib. More aquamarine boxes, all neatly stacked according to size with the smallest at the top.

The younger woman leans against the tall, heavy vase next to the wall leading into the hallway to the East wing. “If you say so.”

There’s no reason for your mother to be here. It should be you instead, coming back to tie loose ends and perhaps inquire about Namjoon’s injuries if you cared enough. Compared to your mother, you didn’t have much of a backbone when it comes to relationships and it makes it so easy for men to take what they want and go. It’s what made you a bore, what gave Yori the power to pull Namjoon right into her bed and have him calling her name like a prayer.

“Did you forget basic manners?” Your mother finally snaps, beady eyes darting from side to side to admire the nursery that could have been a snapshot from a furniture magazine. “Not even offering a glass of water?”

Yori only smiles, motioning to the unrolled mat slumped against the wall, adjacent from the staircase.

“I assumed whatever you wanted say would be quick as you came uninvited. You’d probably think the water is poisoned even if I offered any way.”

The older woman glances at the rug – no doubt imported from Dubai with its elegant coloring and silk touch – then walks over to it before tracing her fingers around the rolled edges. She shouldn’t have accepted to do such demeaning housework but given how she pulled into the driveway unannounced and that the woman is heavily pregnant with no help around, it was only fair. She may have left behind her patience with Jungkook but not her manners.

“Why did you have to pick that day to tell her?”

Yori’s eyebrows raised just slightly before falling back down to its former position. She puts a hand over her stomach and walks towards the giant vase again, rubbing her fingers over the cool lacquered surface. Namjoon’s parents had a thing for porcelain she just couldn’t wrap her head around.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you wait until the marriage ceremony to tell her you were screwing her husband?”

“Husband?” She cocks her head to the side with an incredulous widening of her pupils. “Last time I checked he only had a fiancée he rarely saw who ran away with some pretty photographer the first chance she got. I’d say that’s far from married.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Answer the question,” she looks down, chin trembling. The world is falling apart, her dreams are nothing but a pebble in quicksand, and you no longer cared. “Please.”

Yori watches, in a way one watches a fly buzzing around a piece of fruit, the older woman bring her hands together in front of her like it has taken all her energy to ask such a question. Maybe for a moment she considers telling the woman the truth. She considers telling her that you broke her heart first, that you had the world succumbing to your every need, that your mother’s greed doesn’t only belong to her but you too because you made Seokjin your lap dog while Namjoon promised you a future. She considers telling her about the night she saw you laying like a swooning damsel in distress as Seokjin – the only man she had to beg for attention – suckle your tits like you were getting paid for it. She considers telling your mother that her daughter is the two-faced whore here, not her. She considers telling her that you touched what belonged to someone else first.

But what difference would it make? What would it change? The baby is still due in a handful of weeks, Namjoon is set to take over the company once he gets his shit together and his nose heals, and you’re perfectly happy with a new and exciting boyfriend of yours. The truth doesn’t set anyone free, it just makes sure the shackles aren’t too tight.

Yori turns her moist eyes away towards the living room downstairs. She walks over to the railing, resting her wrist on the copper before she stares down at the half-eaten cake on the coffee table with utmost disgust, as if she can still smell the overly sweet frosting with too much blue and pink dye. Catching her voice, she brings the smile back onto her face.

“I picked that day,” she turns her head, just slightly to catch your mother’s expression. “Just because I wanted to watch her look as pathetic as you do now.”

Your mother’s lips part, hands falling to her sides.

“It just happened. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s…all?”

Yori chuckles, her empty gaze falling back down to the cake. “That’s all.”

Years of planning, years of giving you the best education the country has to offer, years of making sure you never have to suffer as she had, years of shaking hands and kissing the ground the Kims walk on, only for this girl without new or old money to come and…

Before your mother can think, she lunges forward and grabs Yori by the ends of her hair, twisting the locks around her wrist as the younger woman gasps and shrieks. Her swollen stomach hits your mother’s side as she screeches and uses both hands to grab at her taught hair, pulling away to place as much distance she can. The heel of her ankle catches the edge of the first step and she watches the older woman’s eyes widen as she slams, back first, into the steps and then bounce off the next step as her jaw and skull slams into the copper pipe railing. Yori’s stomach hits the corners of the last several steps before the swell of her belly squeezes inwards, the final gurgling scream ripping out of her throat as her vision turns black and the house falls in silence.

It all happened so fast. Your mother watches with her hands over her ears, chest pounding and bracelets clattering as her limbs turn cold and her knees buckle.

Her eyes widen, more and more, as the pool of blood around Yori’s head expands until there lays maroon halo around her crown. She’s lying flat on her stomach and it takes another moment for the trembling woman to realize that, in the silence save for her own labored breathing, the bump is no longer there.

“Oh my god…”

Curling over to the side, your mother’s jaw falls open and the remnants of her early lunch spills over one of Yori’s shoes ledged between the railing and the first step. She empties her stomach until there is nothing left, her knuckles white as she grips the railing for support. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she descends down the staircase, back pressed against the wall and eyes darting from the body to the tinted windows with burgundy curtains tied to the side. When she reaches the body, she trips over Yori’s limp feet as she quickly dashes to the living room to draw the curtains close, her neck craning from side to side as she finds any opening where an imaginary eye might witness the ultimate sin. It was only when she finds herself in the kitchen, washing her hands that she realized she had, in fact, stolen two lives.

Yori, and the baby who never had the chance to see daylight.

…

You’re sitting in a bathroom stall, turning over the small flash drive between your fingers when you hear the clattering of heels against polished tile and the sound of handbags slumping on the counter. One of the women walks into the stall next to yours, undoing the tampon wrapper as if she were scouring for the winning lottery number written on the string.

“Did you see Jin with her again?” The woman outside of the stall says and you recognize her by voice. She works for the accounting department and regularly walks into your office for weekly reports.

“I was keeping an eye of him. It’s annoying that they work together now so he’s always all over her.”

No doubt this conversation is about you.

“Tell me about it. I bet they’re fucking, you saw how he looked at her.”

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” The toilet flushes and you can hear her shrugging her skirt back up to her thighs.

You hear a gasp. “Oh my god, you’re right. It’s that young guy who keep bringing her lunch, right? She didn’t break up with him?”

The stall opens and both women are in front of the counter. You’re stuck in your seat, not knowing whether to kick open the door or to interrupt the conversation but with Seokjin’s flash drive in your clammy hands, you struggle to even breathe.

“They’re still together. Looks like that photographer dick is too good to give up for the office hunk.”

They laugh like hyenas – that high, shrieking kind of laugh that makes their red lipstick bleed onto the corners of their mouths.

“They’re so out of her league. What do they even see in her? She’s painfully average. The only thing she’s got going on is a good wardrobe.”

You keep your head lowered when they walk past your stall as if they could see you. They pull on the paper towel lever until they can rip a generous piece and wipe their hands.

“She’s rich. She’s probably only working here because it keeps her humble or some bullshit like that. You know how girls with daddy’s money are, thinking they’re doing charity for working like the rest of us-”

You don’t hear the rest of their conversation, glad that your face no longer feels hot but you’re angered all the same. Jungkook’s visits, for this reason, had made you nervous in the beginning because you know they’ll talk and come up with their own little villain fantasy about you. It doesn’t bother you as you keep work separate from life (something Jungkook had been interrupting much to your discomfort) but hearing it in person ignited the kind of angry tears that has you cursing at yourself for letting yourself be disturbed by it.

You grab your handbag off the hook, place the flash drive back in your pocket, and unlock the stall before pushing the door open. You wash your hands in haste as the air had become suffocating in the aftermath of the two women. Wiping your wet hands down your black slacks, you let your wavy hair down and let it frame your face to hide your flushed cheeks, making sure that your eyes are no longer moist and your nose isn’t pink. What a way to end a workday.

When you arrive back at the office, most of your coworkers are gone except for the new interns organizing papers for tomorrow and the occasional workaholics making coffee in the makeshift cafeteria. You just hope you won’t run into the two women if they choose to swing by for whatever reason but, thankfully, it was never a common occurrence. They never did above the bare minimum any way.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you slump back down your office chair, squeezing your nose bridge as a wave of exhaustion wracks havoc in your pulsing head.

“There are some more sandwiches in the fridge, please help yourself if you’d like.” A student intern says as she carries a crumpled file under one arm, peering from above your divider.

“Oh!” You exclaim, your head darting towards the room Sora left in a mess before turning back to the girl. “Thank you, I’ll help myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gives a short nod before leaving, the glass door squeaking as the office once again is filled with the sound of coffee machines whirring and papers shredding.

The USB flash drive sits heavy in your pocket as you wave goodbye to the last person leaving your department with a cup of coffee. She nods, smiling, and pushes out the heavy glass door and you silently hope she won’t forget to return the mug before leaving the building. You listen to the clacking of her heels fading before turning back to the work computer still logged into your account. The saturated blue screen is harsh on your vision and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut, turning to look at the clock on the wall momentarily to keep yourself grounded.

Jungkook can call at any minute as your shift is coming to an end.

Maybe it would be easier to do this with your phone turned off but knowing him, he would worry enough to drive over to make sure you’re safe.

Within the gray walls that surround your cubicle, you should feel secure. Yet, some part of you wonders if he would suddenly appear behind you and wrap you in his arms before asking you what you’re up to. In this nightmare of a scenario, you can also feel the antagonizing gaze of the two women.

Looking back down at the USB, you’ve come to realize that you have bigger things to worry about. Some part of you feels just as disgusting as a cheater taking off her ring in the presence of another man.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

You’ve rehearsed the same mantra in your head at least a hundred times within the same hour (before you had the unfortunate chance to overhear that unpleasant conversation) and it sickens you that this is a phrase that Namjoon would have used to justify his time with Yori. It’s a cheater’s mentality – a cowardly way of shifting responsibility away from themselves without considering the consequences when the truth comes to light.

With a sigh, you pull the flash drive out of your pocket and flip the black casing open until the lid hangs off its hinges to reveal the silver end. You look around once more, taking a deep breath, and push the end into the appropriate slot of the system unit. The USB flashes a neon green light, pulsing as it loads, before it dims and a small ping pulls your attention back to the screen.

The file explorer window expands, showing a ZIP file among an array of photos that had you squinting to observe. You jolt straight from the seat as your phone rings. Cursing under your breath as you note an incoming call. You’re just about to turn back to the screen when you recognize that the number flashing across your screen isn’t Jungkook’s but your mother’s. She never called at this time and if she did, she would have texted you first to make sure you weren’t in a meeting.

Just as you reach for the phone, it stops ringing and you contemplate turning it off. But something tells you you should have taken the call. When the phone rings again, causing you to flinch, you let it vibrate twice before swiping across the screen.

In exactly five minutes, you will regret ever picking up the call. In ten minutes, you’re running for your life.

…

Jungkook paces back and forth with his thumb between his teeth. If he bit his nails any shorter, he would pierce through skin. Your voice still rings in his ear as you cry into the phone, your tires screaming through the speaker as you speed through the streets back to the apartment. He’s sick with worry, wondering if you crashed into a tree of if you decided – on a whim – to handle this situation yourself. Because you called him immediately after you left work, he has a feeling you wouldn’t do anything stupid but today has been especially unpredictable.

First, your mother coming to meet him. Second, the same woman pushing Yori down the stairs and threatening you to take care of it. If he’d heard you correctly, the old wench even mentioned she would make his life a living hell if you don’t head over immediately. Some mother you are. It pisses him off to no end that you had to live with her for half of your life but it makes him even more upset that you’ve been hiding your mother’s behavior, throwing excuses about how much she worries when she’d call in the mornings and leave voicemails that you delete without listening.

He changes into a pair of jeans and an old university sweatshirt that is a bit too tight on the cuffs. When he hears the sound of your heels clack on the other side of the door, he barely had the time to wrap his head around such a God-given opportunity.

As soon as the door swings open you’re falling into his arms, wracked with sobs as he engulfs your entire torso in his arms. He presses your head further below his neck, reaching behind you to grab his coat off the hanger and wrap it around you before kicking the door close in case a neighbor passes by. You can’t bear to lift your head, trembling as your teeth chatter and your pupils are wide with fear. He’s never seen you like this – not even during the wedding night – and it makes his insides squeeze as if someone had reached in him and pressed a hand against his organs.

“I-I don’t know w-” you sob, “I don’t know w-what to do. I can’t breathe. Jungkook-”

He hushes you softly, threading his fingers through your hair with his thumbs curling around your ear. He tilts your head up towards his gaze, watching your tears trail down your face and onto the coat. Between gasps, you’re wailing, your throat tightened to the point that even his name sounds like nails on chalkboard on your lips.

“Noona, you have to breathe for me. Inhale,” he brings air into his nostrils as demonstration, “and exhale. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, swallowing first before you mimic and close your eyes. Jungkook brings a hand up to your chest, digging underneath the coat to feel it pounding against your ribcage.

“Keep breathing, noona. It’s going to be okay, keep breathing.” He rubs his warm palm over the chiffon and you find yourself leaning your forehead against his chest in exhaustion.

You wish you could stay in his embrace forever. Locked inside this warm and unassuming apartment, away from your mother, away from the past that has now resurfaced in the worst way imaginable – you wish you can curl into his arms and never leave. That…or you just want the world to swallow you in a deep well and leave you to starve.

“We have to tell the police.” You tremble. You can’t imagine the repercussions, not to mention the heartache of seeing your mother behind bars. She’d rather hang herself than end up in prison, you know that much. You’d sworn to your father before his passing that you’d keep her safe and you’re already thinking of running away.

“Noona…”

“We do. We…I have to. I-I mean it was an accident,” you’re suddenly peeling yourself away from him, bringing your hands up to rub your face. “They’ll give her m-maybe three or four years at most, right? If it was an accident it won’t be…”

Jungkook comes up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing up and down. You’re shaking again, tears streaming even quicker than before and the nausea is causing you to falter from side to side.

“Kookie, I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do, I’m going crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

He places his forehead against the crown of your head, staring into the distance. You feel his fingers tighten around your arm before he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his weight upon your collarbones.

“Do you trust me, noona?” He whispers.

The fridge hums in the distance. You nod.

“Yes…I trust you. With my life.”

When he doesn’t reply, you turn your body, slowly, as if you were anticipating a monster and not a man, until you can look up at his face. He’s rubs his thumbs over your tears and moves down to your chapped lips, swollen and pink from your incessant gnawing. Your lips part just slightly as you exhale, keeping your eyes locked onto his loving eyes. He looks so angelic under the kitchen lights, the yellow bulbs blurred by the moisture in your eyes to form a halo around his long fringe. His hair is parted in the middle to form a curtain around his structured face, casting a shadow over his eyes in the semi-darkness. You can’t see him clearly with the lights behind him but you can sense his confidence, his reassuring grip on your cheeks; he’s no longer the boy from the night before but a man who is willing to keep the promise he made to you.

“I can help you.” He whispers softly once more, his voice lowered. “If you take me to the body…I can help you, noona.”

He holds your gaze, his thumbs still rubbing softly over your cheeks as if to coax the words into your skin. The implication isn’t lost on you but your body reacts first, fingers shaking as a fresh wave of sweat prickles down your back.

“W-What do you…” you trail off as your breathing grows heavy. Jungkook puts a hand on your chest once more as he did before, rubbing softly over your chest to calm your pounding heart.

He holds you close, breathing in your skin once more as his own eyes sting with unshed tears. Fate is a terrible thing and for every moment of bliss with you, he must pay the price; except, this price is a new opportunity to secure you by his side and earn your mother’s silent approval. It’s okay, Jungkook thinks, he can do this for you. He has the resources, the will, the strength, the plans – the only thing he can’t predict is your mental well-being in the aftermath.

Will you lose respect for him? Will you still love him? One thing he was sure of was that this was the only chance to keep your mother from arranging a marriage partner for you. He must go through it to not only save your sanity, your mother, but your answer when he puts one knee on the ground and opens the velvet box he keeps on top of the fridge for the perfect time. Oh how the universe responded so quickly to the day’s worries.

“Back then…when you said you would…”

Kill

“…You would do that for me. You really meant it, baby?”

Jungkook brings your head back under his chin and keeps you there, rocking from side to side as if to lull you to sleep.

“I meant every word. I’m not afraid, noona, not if it means I can protect you and your family.” His eyes darken as he tangles his fingers into your hair, twirling the ends of your waves between his fingers. “You love me, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then I need you to listen to me.”

With great reluctance, he pulls you away and holds your palm in both of his larger hands. Your eyes are closed, whether from fatigue or concentration he doesn’t know until your brows scrunch when he speaks.

“Call your mother when I tell you to and tell her you’re on your way over. If she asks why you didn’t answer her previous calls, tell her you had an emergency at work. Reassure her and make sure she doesn’t touch anything more than she’s probably already touched by now. Don’t mention that I’m coming with you, understand? She might panic and bring attention to herself if there’s any witnesses.”

You nod continuously, creating a mental checklist. Call, inform, excuse, reassure, move.

“And noona?”

You look back up into his eyes.

“You…you won’t hate me after tonight…would you?”

How could you fathom it? With his warm, sincere stare and willingness to walk to the ends of earth for someone as plain and unlovable as you, you should be on your knees worshipping him. You don’t understand how he can think of you hating him when he had so willingly put his entire life at risk without reluctance. You aren’t asking him to fetch a forgotten carton of milk at the corner store. You’re asking him to clean up the mess your mother made, a mess that can tear your entire world apart, a mess that has nothing to do with your boyfriend who has no boundaries to prove his devotion.

You shake your head. “I could never,” you breathe.

You hold him this time, letting his body bow towards your trembling figure as he breathes in the scent of sweat and perfume on your neck. You give him a moment of peace. You wanted him to remember this touch as after this night is over, you don’t know if you’ll be the same person. You don’t know if he’ll be either.

He goes over the plan once more and leads you to his car. When Jungkook straps you into the passenger seat and turns the ignition key, you curl your fingers around your shaking knees. He notices your anxiety and takes the closest hand in his before letting your palm rest over the gear shift. He places his own hand on top of yours, gripping tightly when he shifts and maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the road before unclenching.

The sky is pitch black and the moon stalks from behind. You count every tree, read every sign, tense at every sign of a police car passing by, and sniffle when your burning eyes refuse to calm. You don’t register where you are until Jungkook lets go of your hand on the shifting gear and undo his seatbelt. You’re inside the garage of his studio, surrounded by wires, cardboard boxes, plastic bins, and office supplies. When you grasp his arm, letting out a small cry, he hushes you instantly, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“I’ll be quick, noona. I just need to get some things, okay? I’ll be right there-” he points to the very back of the car – “in view.”

You swallow, nodding before uncurling your grip from his arm.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint for Jungkook not to coo at your desperation. He missed this dependency of yours (he had only seen it during the wedding night and the necklace argument) and for once he wonders if he went a bit too far with his role as the sweet and needy boyfriend. He’s not acting in a way that he doesn’t want to but he is guilty of dramatizing some of his pleas and affectionate touches. He knows, in his head, that he is a man. He’s stronger, taller, capable of committing a crime and not just cleaning its aftermath, and will eventually be the father of your children. He’ll tug his collar open to expose his vulnerabilities, but he will show you his strength too. Tonight is a blessing from the universe that will, finally, keep you where you belong: at his side, looking at him, and needing only him.

You watch as Jungkook swings open the trunk of his car and load three large plastic bins and pile photography equipment – tripods, developer fluids, camera bags, lighting equipment, and even a small monitor. And then you see the last box of supplies: rope, black plastic bags, gloves, masks, bleach, towels, and tape. When his eyes meet yours, he flashes you a small smile between his labored breaths, the kind you’re used to seeing after you make love to him and he’s spent, sprawled on the sheets with an arm over his perspired forehead. The car jolts slightly as pushes the back door shut and hop back into the driver seat, adjusting the temperature in the car, muttering something under his breath, and latching his seat belt back on.

He keeps both hands on the wheel. “Noona…make the call now.”

You’re frozen, hands clasped together on your lap.

“Kookie…”

You’re having doubts. He can see it in the way you can’t even bear to look at him. He digs through your pocket and presses your cell phone on your lap. When the lockscreen awakens to the photo of you two, you feel your heart anchor to the bottom of your stomach.

“I-I can’t do it.” You shake your head. “We have to go to the police. I can’t live without you, I can’t live without mom, we’ll get caught and I-” You press your hands to your face, your hoarse sobs lodged deep in your throat before it rips from your chest in the kind of wailing that makes Jungkook’s own heart squeeze. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Yori either e-even if it means my family…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He sees himself in you. He sees himself as the teen boy who let Taehyung drag his scalpel across his father, then his mother, before encouraging him to give it a try. You’re a virgin. Even if tonight worked out perfectly according to his plans, you’d still be a crime virgin. It was your mother who pushed Yori, not you. Knowing how empathetic you are, how tender you are, it might as well be you who pushed the woman down the stairs. He knows your fear all too well and he knows just how quick your hummingbird heartbeat is underneath his coat that you’re wearing. You’re just like him.

“You’re beautiful, noona.” He places a palm over your clasped hands and brings his other hand up to your face, tucking your hair behind your ears and strumming your cheeks with the back of his fingers.

“No one deserves your kindness. It fucking upsets me,” he swallows, allowing his eyes to water, “that even a mother will take advantage of that kindness.”

You sob into his hand, leaning your temple against the head rest. He’s right. How many times have your mother, before Jungkook came into your life, morphed you into something you’re not? The days you spent trying to please her, comparing yourself to other children she would complement to get a reaction out of you, letting yourself be a pawn for when she wanted something from your father that either required money or the right handshake. You still love her above all because she’s your mother but there’s no denying how much it still touches every part of your life from your relationships to your career. Moving away from her and letting her fade into the background was a true feat and it pains you that all that effort crumbled away and you’re left in a bigger mess to clean than before. If only you hadn’t taken the fucking call.

Maybe this was your fault. Maybe, if you hadn’t been such a hard-headed person, she would never had driven over to Yori’s place and none of this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have to get Jungkook involved either, as willing as he is.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Jungkook slouches back into his seat, putting his hands back onto the steering wheel. “Don’t you, noona?”

You nod, keeping your head lowered.

“Then be good for me and call. I’ll take care of you and I’ll take care of everything else. I’ve never broken that promise, not now, not ever.”

Jungkook hopes that’ll work. He’s rather annoyed but not at you, never at you. Why couldn’t she tumble down those stairs too instead of giving you such unnecessary stress? This kind of stain would be terrible for the baby had you been pregnant. It’s tearing him apart watching how different you are now compared to this morning, leaving the apartment in comfort only to come falling into his arms in tears. He came to the conclusion that you’re simply too pure for the world.

Oh how romantic tonight would be if you were honest with yourself all along. Claiming to loathe your mother with the strength of a thousand suns only to act like this when she shows up with baggage. Jungkook can’t blame you for you shared a majority of your life with the wench, but he finds it exasperating that you can’t see how little of your pity people like her deserve. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t be the love of his life if you weren’t so sensitive and caring.

It was with great relief that you mustered the courage to swipe across the phone screen and type your mother’s number.

He clicks open the garage door and the vehicle begins to descend down the elevated lot.

“M-mom? I’m on my way now…c-can you tell me where you are? It’ll be okay…I know mom, I-I’ll be there soon…”

…

You feel eerily calm as Jungkook drives past your mother’s car parked in the front of the gate to circle around the perimeter of the fence. He doesn’t recognize the new gate but he’d climbed over the old ones many times to watch you on the balcony. The metal may have changed but the level of security should be the same given that the villas are built a good distance apart between trees and the residents – people with mostly new money – keep to themselves. Lodged between a large tree and a partial opening in the back gate that is no doubt left ajar by your mother, Jungkook step out of the vehicle and press the door close before coming over to your side.

He’s relieved that you’re no longer in tears but your hands are still freezing cold despite the heat turned to the max inside. Your eyes are wandering and your breaths are labored as you press your body close to Jungkook’s.

Your mother is waiting near the door, her head poking out just slightly in the darkness and you can see the familiar row of bracelets on her wrist. She seems to have aged several years in just the last few months and the reason for her demise is standing next to you.

“Are you insane?” She seethes as she pulls you by the arm into the dark house and keep her eyes on Jungkook whose gaze bore into her skull. “How could you bring another-”

Jungkook barely had the time to secure your grip on his arm when you gasp, flinching back to hit the chess table next to where he’s standing when you see Yori’s pale arm stretched out from beneath a mat. The deep crimson shade of blood had congealed on the marble, partially smudged by the mat above her weighing her corpse down. Deep inside you had hoped that at least the baby could be saved, by some miracle, but the damage is far too great. Accident or not, a police officer finding this scene would not consider a light sentence if you mother decided to confess.

The older woman’s jaw is clenched, no doubt suppressing the panic she too feels hammering inside her as you hang off of Jungkook arm, trembling still. She looks up to your boyfriend and finds herself jolting awake when his eyes are peering down at her. He looks kind, sympathetic, soft, as if he is still sitting across her on your couch, eager to prove that he can be the son-in-law she’s been looking for all along.

“You should head home for the night. I’ll handle the rest.”

She scratches at her bracelets, her nails tugging the gold free from her skin. “B-But…where are you taking her? Anyone will find it if she’s buried in the yard.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer the question.

“Please go home and make sure there are no witnesses. I know you didn’t inform anyone before coming here,” he turns his head towards the body, “so go home as if you were never here. I promise I’ll take care of it.”

It’s evident the older woman is relieved by the way her shoulders slump but her gaze is still firm as she measures her trust into the young man who is in full control of your heart. Your eyes are still on the body when your mother takes your hands in hers and gives a squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” she croaks. She knew she gave birth to such a dependable, obedient daughter. You’re every mother’s dream and she makes a mental note to come back to your apartment with more boxes of food and perhaps make amends. There are far too many misunderstandings and miscommunication; it’s no way for a mother and child to live.

However, when you rip your hands away and take Jungkook’s hand in yours, her face crumbles.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” You hiss, your voice straining. You’ve never spoken to her like this and didn’t think about doing so until you saw the body, the mess your boyfriend has to clean. “You did this to us.”

“Wh-”

“Leave me alone. Please, mom. Get out of here, okay?” Your eyes glisten and you wipe away the droplets before they have the chance to fall. “It’s…we’re putting our lives on the line for you. It’s the least you can do now…so please…”

Between your pleas and Jungkook’s silence, your mother bites the inside of her cheek from saying anything more and turns back the way you came in. You watch her figure recede into the darkness, her shoes clacking softly on the cobblestone path. She turns back to look at you before the door closes and for once, you earn the most genuine apology you’ve ever received and this time she didn’t even need to open her mouth.

When the door falls back into place, Jungkook gives your shoulders a comforting rub and leads you towards the staircase, reminding you to breathe. He feels a bit more relieved that your mother didn’t raise too much of a ruckus. How could she when he’s the one getting his hands dirty? It’s what the perfect son-in-law will do and after this night is over, he’ll no longer have doubts about her approval. She wouldn’t have a valid argument anyway – not when he had just proved that he’s willing to go to the ends of Earth for your family and stability.

You’re too cute, Jungkook thinks, as you breathe through your nose and exhale through your lips. You’re a mirror image of his virgin self coated in blood, panicked but euphoric, angered but more than relieved to be rid of the parasites that kept him in the sewers.

“H-how are we going to do this?” You breathe, looking up the stairs as if you were expecting Namjoon to be standing there.

“I’ll handle the body. You can help me wipe down the stairs, okay?”

And handle it he did. He first fetched the supplies from the car, making sure once more that there are no witnesses while also keeping you within sight. Even without a severe puncture wound, Yori made quite a mess.

The terror didn’t come from seeing your former friend of years lay in a puddle of her own secretions. Nor did it come from seeing how calm and collected your boyfriend is peering down at the body with something akin to annoyance. No, terror came from how easily your mind and body adapted to helping Jungkook. You had no more tears left to shed when he lifted the mat from the body and placed a plastic covering next to her before rolling her body onto it. The sheet rustles beneath her weight and the stench of iron and urine fills your nostrils, prompting you to place your gloved hand over your nose.

Jungkook seems to know just what to do. He orders for you to wipe the railings first, which you do so with the slowness of a snail climbing a brick wall. The smell of bleach kept the nausea at bay and prompted you to focus on the smaller tasks because you can feel your heart already beginning to race with the sound of your boyfriend dragging Yori by the feet to straighten her posture. When you risked a glance back, you catch yourself feeling irked by the way Jungkook places her fingers so tenderly on her flattened stomach. Even when he’s wearing gloves, you catch yourself glaring at his touch on her skin, at the way his fingers brush over the ring on her finger. It makes you clench your jaw harder, pour more bleach onto the staircase, and wipe down each step with vigor.

She’s dead, she can’t take him from you.

You spray the bleach onto the top step, scrubbing with the heel of your palm as your shoulder fights through aches and pressure. You can do this. If Jungkook kept his promise, you must too. You will never find another man who will devote his entire life to you and for that you must not be too forgiving to those who don’t deserve your kindness, not this time.

All your life it’s one person after another coming to take what they want and leave. This is your lesson to finally take yourself back from them all, to come to terms with how much you gave and how little you received, see that Jungkook was the catalyst you desperately needed. It was no coincidence that when the elevator doors opened that very night of your wedding, he was the person standing in front of you. He was meant to be there holding your shoes as he rescues you away from those who would eventually suck the life out of you. He’s not someone you should be afraid of – no – because he’s your savior.

When you turn back again, Jungkook is slipping Yori’s legs into a large, black plastic bag identical to the one she’s laying on. He uses the bag beneath her to fight friction as he slides her body forward, careful not to bend her body before the duct tape comes into play.

And suddenly, your shoulder doesn’t ache anymore. Your heartbeat slows as you take another deep breath, this time through your lips, and watch his shoulders hunch over and forearm veins protrude.

“Kookie?”

He looks up, hair damp with sweat as it falls over his eyes. The lights from the front lawn, as it filter through dark maroon curtains, casts a red glow on your lover’s skin. When he meets your eyes he’s filled with glee, seeing that you’re no longer panicking and your eyes are clouded with a kind of protective apathy that lets him know you’ve gotten stronger. You’re dipping a toe into his world.

“Yes, noona?” He huffs, straightening his spine and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist.

“Nothing will happen to us after tonight…right?”

He physically melts at your saccharine voice. You’re worried about him, about whether he’ll still want you after this and if he’ll want you forever. “Of course not, noona. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to rest?” He asks if he hadn’t been the one packing the corpse into a bag.

You shake your head with a sniffle. “…I’m fine.” You’re not sure what to say, so you rub the cleaning cloth between your fingers and shy away from his eyes. “J just wanted to hear you say that.”

A smile spreads across his face, slow but bright as if he had just heard the most amazing thing. You can’t smile back and instead focus back on the floors and the last few inches of the railing.

You make sure to wipe the decorations nearby, in case your mother left any fingerprints on the lacquered surfaces. She can be rather careless in dire situations. You’re lifting yourself off the floor when something catches your eye: a large crib with layers and layers of blankets and fuzzy cloud and star plushies.

“What kind of bedtime stories should we tell our kids?”

Namjoon puts his head on your lap, sighing in relief when his neck is elevated at just the right position to depressurize the knot.

“What about myths? About the constellations and such.”

You giggle, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Isn’t that a little too mature for babies?”

When he doesn’t answer, you wave you hand in front of his eyes. He squints, chuckling. So this is what marriage life is going to be like – he can get used to it. “You’re right, that is a bit too much. Then…hm…they’ll learn about the types of clouds in the sky and we can go from there.”

“Joonie, I love you, but don’t come crying when our kids prefer mama’s stories over papa’s boring myths and random science facts.”

“We’ll see when we get to that point. Either way, you’re stuck with me.”

Asshole.

A fucking good-for-nothing lying asshole.

Gifting the same toys he promised to give to your future children to the same bitch who ruined your life, your family, and your sanity; they deserved each other, you think, and they both deserve to disappear as if they had never existed. The unborn baby inside Yori is innocent but a part of you is elated that he’ll never experience the kind of fatherhood he wanted. You silently wished Namjoon would tumble down the very same staircase you cleaned and joined Yori in a happy couple’s embrace to…

“Kookie?” You call out to your boyfriend who had duct taped the body in a semi-mummified state and used a shibari knot with his jute rope for easy carrying. He’d dragged the body next to the railing and leaned it against one of the stair planks in an upright position so that after he inspects the house for any evidence, he can bring the corpse easily over his shoulder.

“Yes, noona?”

“Where are we going to bury her?”

Jungkook wets his lips. He can’t possibly tell you the process of disposing a body or else you’ll surely fall back into panic so he gives you the simplest answer he can. “I’ll have to keep her body in the freezer in my studio. I’ll look for a place to burn it soon.”

You nod, swallowing as your throat tightens uncomfortably once more. The waves of anxiety come and goes. Jungkook knows how you’re feeling all too well and he wishes he could just hold you in your arms until tomorrow comes. Much to his distain, he knows you’re partly living your fantasy of making Yori pay for her involvement with Namjoon. You no longer love the man but anyone in your shoes wouldn’t deny there is a sense of satisfaction in seeking vengeance after a lifetime of humiliation that dampened your reputation in both your personal and professional sphere. Jungkook prays that getting rid of Yori will eliminate your mind of their presence although he highly doubts it; you’re not always rainbows and flowers. It’s only natural for you to be curious about taking another life when anger consumes logic. Most of these thoughts are fleeting ,which is why you had surprised Jungkook by your composure. He expected screaming at the very least but all you could do was cry.

He understands.

After he watched the life drain out of his parents, Taehyung had watched him cry for the longest time and when the next day came, it was like the world had turned its back while he washed the blood off his hands. The anxiety was terrible – at least for the first month or two – and then it was as if nothing had happened.

Like he learned before and like you’re learning now, it didn’t take much to get rid of a person. Over time, it just became muscle memory, kind of like making your morning coffee half-asleep. Now that you’ve gotten your first taste of the power, he wonders how you’ll cope. Will you fall into despair and regret it all in the morning? Will you be hungry for more? How will you return his most tiresome display of affection? These are questions he can’t answer. But what he does know is that you finally understand what love is in his world.

Love isn’t just about a ring on the finger or a baby in the crib. Love has to hurt. It has to infest your dreams and turn them into nightmares, wreak havoc on your heart, rip off the magnet in your moral compass. It’s why the human heart is caged behind ribs – it can hardly be tamed.

…

As the car lurches behind trees and between unpaved roads, Jungkook notifies your mother about what to do next. It would not raise suspicion for her to leave the country for a few weeks, especially since she had been traveling to speak to investors abroad. It would take some of the burden off his shoulders too; your mother is a cunning woman who fears losing money more than losing you so he had no trouble alluding to her demise if she disobeys. While you look away, he quickly sends a notification to Jimin to make sure the older man will take care of the rest. When he receives an immediate response back, his shoulders slump in relief and he pockets the phone back into his jeans.

When he takes your hand in his again, the other gripping the wheel, you give him the smallest of smiles through the silence.

Three is a crowd. The body folded and hidden in the rear space between his photography equipment makes your head turn every now and then to make sure it doesn’t escape somehow. You’re exhausted beyond belief but Jungkook is here, his palm over your hand on the shifting gear once more, to keep you grounded. The night feels like it might go on forever.

The streets pass by in a blur – nightlife still alive and pulsing with neon signs – and there’s a kind of peace enclosed in the car that you can’t find anywhere else. It’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook has always been and will always be there for you. Whether to take you from somewhere or bring you to some place, he’s the only person in your life left that you could depend on. As he expertly drives through tight alleyways where gas station surveillance cameras can’t reach him, you’re dozing off with your head against the window.

“We’re almost there.” He says while running his thumb over your knuckles. There’s blood on his shirt and your neck but you’re too tired to care.

You awaken with a gasp when Jungkook swings the door open; he had been careful not to wake you but you feel enough residual adrenaline to jolt awake at the smallest of sounds. It takes a moment for you to recognize the inside of his garage, the bright LED lightbulb hanging above causing you to squint as your eyes adjust.

Unaware that you’re awake, Jungkook quickly moves to the rear of the car and swing Yori’s body over his shoulders, tightening the ropes around where her neck and feet are to secure his grip. He carries the wrapped body towards the door next to the shelves and kicks it open to reveal several more stocked shelves before coming to a halt at the buzzing freezer. With a free hand, he lifts the lid open and removes several bags of seafood and miscellaneous food items you can’t quite make out before rolling the body inside the interior. He places the bags on top of the body and latches the freezer shut, securing it with a combination lock from one of his bins.

When he steps back and shut the storage door before turning, he’s surprised to see you standing in the doorway, your hair a mess, his coat hanging loose off one shoulder.

“Do you remember the night after you took my engagement photos? The ones at that same house?”

His brows scrunch slightly in confusion as he nods. There’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks as you breath in and out from your lips, a puff forming in the chill of the garage. You’re half-asleep, the exhaustion resting well deep in your bones but you can’t bring yourself to find your way towards his bed.

“I left my bedroom door open for you. I-I watched you from the balcony and waited for you to come back.”

Jungkook’s lips part, something foreign stirring in his stomach as the coat weighs down your shoulders and you don’t stop it from sliding down your arms, letting it pool around your feet. You don’t know why you wanted to confess but it felt right. It felt right to confess to something that isn’t about being an accessory in a crime.

“Why didn’t you say anything, noona?”

You close the distance, putting both of your hands on his chest, over the blood stains on the university sweatshirt. He exhales loudly when you bring him down to your level by a tug of his collar, your lips just a mere centimeter apart.

“Because I wanted you then just as much as I want you now.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between your lips, slamming your body onto the car behind you as he brings one of your legs over his waist to press himself against your heat. Your fingers curl around the nape of his neck and he listens to your squeal as he lifts you fully off the ground and lets you wrap both your legs around him this time. You break the kiss and pepper sweet kisses over the mole on his neck and the smears of dried blood that caked onto his sweatshirt.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, moving your head to the other side of his neck to suckle on his warm skin and feel his pulse through the jugular.

Jungkook quickly throws open the door to the studio and steps into the darkness, his memory allowing him to lead you towards the bathroom without his eyes adjusting. Your eyes burn once more when he reaches behind you to shut the bathroom door close and turn on the yellowed lights with the back of his elbow. When your face comes into view, he sits you on the counter next to the sink and pushes his tongue back in your mouth, your name leaving his lips with a whimper.

He’s terribly hard against your thighs, his length straining through his jeans. You tug him forward by the belt as you break the kiss once more and let him rip open your blood and bleach-stained blouse.

“God, you’re so beautiful, noona. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He moans as you press the heel of your feet up his erection, his voice muffled by skin filling his mouth as he takes the top your left breast spilling from the brassiere on his tongue. You arch to chase the heat of his tongue, back of your head leaning on the mirror behind.

“My good boy…such a good boy…”

The effect your praise has on him is immediate. Jungkook reaches behind his neck and pulls the sweatshirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. You watch him unbuckle and tug his belt free from the hoops before unclasping the front of his jeans. Impatient, he circles his arms around you to undo the brassiere, leaning down to kiss the indents on your skin as you slip your blouse off your shoulders and pull the straps down your arms. The coolness of the counter causes a hiss to leave your lips and Jungkook drinks in your state of orgasmic delirium like an aphrodisiac.

It’s a blessing for you to have worn a less difficult pair of pants to shimmy out of. With a short tug, Jungkook slides the waistband of your wool slacks and cotton panties down your ankles. When he pauses, chest rising and falling steadily, you follow his gaze to see a streak of blood in the middle of the light pink fabric.

In the time between your mother’s call and your boyfriend dumping your former best friend’s body in a freezer, your period makes an early appearance. The streak of blood is bright and vibrant, unlike Yori’s blood that oxidized into a deep maroon shade on his tanned skin. Jungkook tugs your pants down your ankles but takes your panties into one hand, his doe eyes coming to rest on the blood before something snaps within him.

He throws the fabric on the floor and hooks his arms beneath your shin, prompting you to gasp as he spreads your thighs apart. He stares down at your dark pubic hair before tracing two fingers up your slit and into the curls. His fingers reappear with your blood, seeping underneath his short nails and the crevices of his nailbed.

“Can I taste you, noona?” He breathes, chest rising and falling even faster. His cheeks are flaming red, the flush reaching his earlobes as his lips part for more air. He feels like he can’t breathe, seeing how beautiful, fertile, and red you are for him.

You’re hesitant, the blood reminding you of what you just done – what he just done – yet the burning in your belly proves that you want this just as much as he does. You barely had the chance to nod before Jungkook pushes his face into your pussy, his tongue lapping the blood on your vulva and clit as his nose buries in your trimmed curls. You taste metallic, as if he’s sucking on a penny, but it’s light and the syrupy texture allows him to take all of your juices in his mouth. When his tongue draws circles around your clit and he presses his lips around the nub like a suction, your fingers immediately grasp his hair from the roots, begging his tongue to fuck your weeping pussy.

Jungkook laps your folds like a starving puppy until you’re arching for him once more, thighs trapping his head where it belongs as your cum gushes out of you with traces with red. Between your blood and your juices, he can’t decide which one tastes better. The metallic tang disappears, leaving a fragrant aftertaste that he can only indulge when he inhales through his nose after swallowing what remains on his teeth. When your knees twitch, Jungkook pulls back to come up for air, watching your expression as your eyes fall to his wet crimson lips, the mess reaching his chin and jaw.

It takes a minute for you to gather yourself together and in your exhaustion a slow but soft smile reaches your lips.

“Does it taste good, baby?”

“Heavenly,” he whispers as he traps your body between his arms and gives you a taste, twisting his tongue deep inside your warm mouth. Your hands stroke the contours of his biceps and triceps, core aching as he groans when you lick your remainings from his chin.

You can tell he’s tired, having to do most of the manual labor. He winces as you knead his shoulders and it makes your chest ache. Even when he’s hurting, he takes care of you first. Your precious boy.

“Turn on the shower for me.”

Jungkook is aching to be inside you but he obeys, turning away to step inside the shower and twist the silver handle lodged into the tile. You stand behind him, moving away just slightly when the water – steadily turning hot – sprays over his hair and onto your breasts. Just as he’s about to turn around you circle your arms around his waist and reach into his jeans, palming his throbbing cock before pulling his jeans and briefs down his ankles. He steps out of the tight fabric, watching the remnants of Yori’s blood spiral down the drain as you kick the fabric in front of his toes.

The shower hose is harsh on his head but he can’t seem to pull away, one arm holding onto the wall for purchase, when you cushion your knees with his wet, blood-stained jeans. He can’t get any harder watching water drip from the ends of his hair down to your erect nipples, sliding down between the valley of your breasts and onto your soft stomach.

You’re delighted to see his cock twitch, taking your bottom lip under your teeth as you look up at him.

“You want mommy to take care of you, Kookie?”

He nods, exhaling as his abdomen clenches.

“You want to cum all over mommy’s tits, yeah? Make me proud?”

“Unng…” He moans in response, hips bucking forward to slide his leaking tip across your lips. He whimpers when you pull away, your smile twisting when his stomach clenches again.

You massage his firm thighs, gliding over every ripple of his muscles and over to the patch of pubic hair above his cock. When you pass your hands over his belly button, you stretch a palm up towards his face.

“Spit.”

The mole beneath his lips appear as he gathers as much saliva as he can produce on his tongue and spits into your palm. There are some traces of blood in your palm but you pay no attention to it as you place your saliva-coated palm over his cock and make a fist around the length.

“Mo-mmy,” he throws his head back, the shower head coming down his flushed pecs. Your fist begins to move slow but tight around his hardness. “It feels so good. Fuck…unng, mommy…please…”

Jungkook can cum just from your warm breath hitting his leaking tip but he doesn’t. When you lean forward and take his entire length in your mouth, tongue stretched as far as you can as you press your nose against his pubes, his jaw drops. You’re warm, wet, and fuck, so tight.

His other hand combs through your hair, reaching underneath the nape to pull your head back until your half-lidded eyes can watch his skin glisten.

With your hands back on his thighs, Jungkook expects you to move. What he doesn’t expect was you to tighten your throat before swallowing with his entire length in your mouth.

“Fuck!”

You gag around him but repeats, breathing through your nose before letting your whimpers and cries vibrate his cock. He’s about to lose it, his tightening grip causing your scalp to burn.

“You’re so pretty, mommy,” he pulls his length back just slightly to let you suction him back inside. When his entire length is warm and pulsing in the back of your throat, you swallow once more and begin moving up and down, your eyes closing as Jungkook backs your head to the tile and fucks your mouth at a steady pace.

“Wanna cum in your throat, all over you, inside you. God, you’re so perfect.” He chants, abdomen clenching when your throat tightens just right over his pink tip.

You hum, hands trailing behind his thighs and up to his firm cheeks to push him forward. His grip tightens once more when he whimpers your name, over and over again, his cock driving into your mouth with a vigor that’s bound to leave your throat sore in the morning.

The first spurt of his warm cum hits your uvula and you cough just as he slides out of your mouth and pumps himself into his fist. Watching his creamy cum dripping down the corner of his mouth intensifies his high, prompting him to burst onto your shoulder blades and over your wet breasts. He doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath before he pushes you down onto the tile, moving away the wet jeans to a corner before finding safety between your legs. His arms, on either side of your head, allows him to prop himself up to lead his tip towards your entrance.

He’d forgotten all about cleaning the blood on your neck when you’re spread for him, your hands cupping his face in admiration. Your eyes and nose are still puffy and red, but he knows the blush on your cheeks come from your need to have him deep inside until you can feel him against your cervix.

“I love you, noona. So, so much.”

You hiss slightly when he pushes inside, your snug velvet walls engulfing his cock and keeping him where he belongs. His body bows in servitude to the goddess that is you.

“I love you too,” you huff, brushing your fingers over his sculped cheekbones and mandible. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You let him take you there despite how painful it was to bear him pounding into your walls with the intent to ruin. You’re not sure how long you lay on the tile, how many times he came inside, how sore and painful your insides will be when he’s done. It was never-ending – how Jungkook muffles your wails and whines, how he pumps his cocks while pressing your shoulders down to bury himself deep, how exhausted you are by the time he’s pushing his cum back into your swollen hole. The last orgasm triggers tears to seep from the corner of his eyes which Jungkook kisses away as he reaches up to the shower cloth and waits for you to fall limp before running the soapy cloth along your body.

You’re freezing cold despite the hot water still coming down onto your boyfriend’s body and, from there, onto you. He’s quick to clean you up and wrap you in the same towel he had laid over you the first time you used his studio shower. You can barely move as he carries you to the bed and lays your damp body on the fresh linen. You can hear the sound of him ripping open a thin menstrual pad and placing it in a pair of fresh panties he fished from the shared armoire closet. He slips the panties up your legs, lifting your hips to pull the fabric over your buttocks, flashing his usual charming grin when you murmur a thank you.

He pulls the towel from your body and squeeze out as much water as he can from your long tresses, careful not to tug. It wasn’t ideal to him that you’ll be sleeping with wet hair but you’re beyond exhausted and, to be frank, he is as well. At least he’s heading to bed satiated.

Jungkook slides under the blankets and brings your body closer by your waist. He groans into your neck, his body immediately softening as the warmth of your skin and the blanket brings him the peace and comfort he craved.

“Kookie?”

“Hm?”

It takes a heartbeat for him to sense your sudden anxiety. “…I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He manages to ask although sleep is weighing heavy on his eyelids.

“I don’t know.” You murmur.

Jungkook is too tired to remember if you said anything afterwards for he falls deep into slumber. As for you, your head won’t let you sleep despite your body pleading for rest. Every part of you can feel Yori’s heavy body in the freezer just several feet away. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about tonight or if tonight should have happened in the first place but in Jungkook’s arms, you can’t find the smallest ounce of pity for the woman.

You close your eyes, snuggle closer into his firm chest, and try your best to pretend nothing will change. You try to forget the flash drive sitting in your bag, the possible evidence your mother may have left behind in the villa, the corpse in the garage. Most of all, you try to forget how Jungkook looked at the bottom of the staircase, slipping the corpse inside the black plastic trash bag with such ease that makes you wonder if he had done this before. He surely must have, that voice inside of your head says but you wave it away.

I don’t know.

You lied to him. For the first time in your relationship, you lied without guilt. You do know why you’re scared and it’s not because after tonight every knock on the door will cause your heart to pound.

No. It’s because you know your boyfriend – your sweet, loving boyfriend who cries watching romantic comedies on Sundays – is truly capable of murder.

#bunny:fic #yandere bts #yandere fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan angst #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #only you #chapter 9 #I did not follow the outline I made for this chapter LOL this was an unpredictable chapter even to me

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tales-unique · 3 years

Text

FAITH, LOST IV

Oh honey she starts off so spicy! Hence why it's all under a Read More since I don't wanna get done for showing the nasty straight out the gate. Minors better beware! ;3

Tagging the boos, for obvs reasons @chelseareferenced @buckysbaby1 hope you all like it! 😘😘

Chapter 4

It begins as soon as your eyes flutter open. The darkness, familiar, like an old friend, coerces your senses into a heightened state. Exposed, your skin prickles at the coolness of the room, writhing against soft sheets. You exhale in exhilaration; you know what’s to come. It starts small, a low thrum of electricity in the air that tickles your bare flesh. Then it builds, tantalizingly slow, a measured surge of power that has you twisting yourself in knots. You want more. Only He can give you more. His arrival is heralded by the scent of oil and whiskey, leather and smoke. It caresses you, embraces you, and sends you into overdrive. It’s instinctual, a primal desire. It corrupts your mind, the sequence disjointing in its take over. Thick boots echo on a wooden floor, your mouth falling open with a heated breath. Your back arches when you feel his weight dip the bed, heat radiating from him. The contrast has you trembling, body wired. His hands, strong and calloused, grip the backs of your thighs easily. A simple tug and you’re at his mercy, legs parting easily in his strong grip. You moan, he growls. He likes what he can see, those beast eyes glowing a dangerous red in the blackness. Sharp indents form against delicate skin, his claws marking your inner thighs. His little lamb, so sweet and so ready for the slaughter. Then there’s movement, the shuffle of fabric, the chink of a belt buckle. You tense, but you’re ready. The air surges with the oncoming crescendo, the room spinning, or maybe it’s you? You’re not sure, preoccupied with the molten heat that pools suddenly between your legs. You feel his grin, all teeth and tongue helping to blot out the sharp stab of pain. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned—

The sudden chaos of a burst steam pipe in the hallway outside your room abruptly shocks you from your slumber, a cacophony of sounds assaulting your sleep-hazed senses. You hear Heisenberg shouting, the scraping of metal being reshaped at will, the harsh hissing of escaping steam. Groaning at the rude awakening you flop back against the lumpy couch cushions, kicking off your blanket in protest. A light sheen of sweat covers your body, making your nightclothes stick to you in an uncomfortable way. As you stare up at the ceiling you try to decode the meaning behind your dream. You recall with an embarrassing amount of clarity just what it was you were doing and who you were enjoying it with. Humiliation blooms within you, coloring your cheeks a shade of scarlet. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t indulged in the past, you just never had desires so blatant before. Especially for someone who was your superior in every way. “Hey, you awake in there?” Heisenberg’s voice cuts your thoughts short. All the racket has stopped, there’s just the usual hum of the Factory. “Y-yes!” You squeak, stomach clenching uncharacteristically as you sit up, “I’m awake!” “Well get your ass up, we have work to do!” He claps his hands hard to exaggerate his point and you lament your new found torture as his footfalls recede down the corridor. Oh merciful Mother Miranda how were you supposed to face him anymore?

Heisenberg is, for lack of a better word, pissed. It surges through him and it shows in the haphazard, volatile approach he takes with his work. It isn’t rational, this level of response on his part, but he can’t help it. You’ve barely spoken a full sentence to him all day. Now, he’s under no illusions that you were going to become the best of friends. After all, you had been sent to him by Mother Bitch herself to be his servant and he knew that you were three sheets to the wind over this religious bullshit, but he’d thought that you’d been showing progress in becoming your own person. At least, you were , until that little incident where he had you pinned against his desk and decided to take his teasing to the next level. It isn’t often that Heisenberg considers that he may have gone too far with something, or someone , but he’s definitely considering the possibility now that you seem to be avoiding him wherever possible. You’d even brushed off his blatant last ditch attempt, an offer to accompany him to see his forge and the projects he’d been working on, in favour of praying to Mother Miranda. It’s the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. You’d been so close to opening up, to no longer being a tool, but instead you’re become even more the meek little lamb of Miranda’s flock. Frustration bubbles within and his temper, short-fused as it already is, takes a critical hit. As a result everything he does has a sharp, volatile edge to it; even something as simple as opening a door is menacing in his current state. It serves to further deter you from him, giving you the space you so desperately desired. That is, until Heisenberg reaches his limit. “Just open up already! You can’t ignore me forever!” He thunders where he stands in the hallway, gritting his teeth in a vicious snarl. When he’s met with your persistent silence he howls in frustration, throwing his arms up in the air. The irony of him choosing to remain outside your door doesn’t go amiss, since it’s well known that he could easily rip the door from its hinges with the flick of his hand because of his nifty little ability to manipulate metal. Which, coincidentally, nearly everything in this Factory is made of in some form or another. But he doesn’t and you’re thankful for that, even if you still don’t want to face him. It continues on relentlessly, neither side backing down, and without realizing it, the whole thing becomes a game in its own right. One that pits you against one another to see who cracks first. So it’s a surprise when it’s Heisenberg that seeks you out first. It’s a situation of his own making, having followed you on the gritty live feed from his security cameras. With ease he catches you off guard on your way out of the elevator, taking your fright in his stride. “Easy now!” He exclaims, his hands raised in surrender. You’re cagey, looking for a way out. He isn’t going to give you one because he’s had about enough of you giving him the cold shoulder over a goddamn joke . You’ve pressed yourself tight against the wall, watching him like a hawk. He can hear the frantic flutter of your heart, the sharp intakes of breath, and his jaw tightens. He can’t get distracted now, he needs to focus — this was not the time to enjoy your distress. “Now I know that I can be a bit of a handful,” he starts, then falters, mouth working to try and word it just right, “but, really, hasn’t this gone on long enough? I didn’t mean any harm by it! Just a little teasing, you weren’t meant to get upset.” Oh, he thinks this is because of that time. You stare up at him in utter disbelief. You want to slap him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt the innate burning desire to inflict bodily harm on anyone, but here you stand, about ready to knock those glasses right off his face. “You have literally no idea how you make me feel , do you?” You accuse him, incredulous, your posture straightening. Things might have slipped back to the way they were before all of this if he had just let you be, allowed you to warm back up to him, and maybe you might have been content with that. This was a turmoil of his own creation, after all, so why not let him stew in it a while. But now? Now you were at your limit. You’re tired of constantly tip-toeing around yourself because of him and his stupid games. If anything, you’re even more tentative to rekindle whatever this relationship is that you have with him, to throw in the towel and tell Mother Miranda she’d been wrong about you. It made you sour to think that what little progress you had made had been lost and it’s taken its toll on you. There’s a harsh look to you that has Heisenberg’s head spinning, apprehension gripping him. “H-Hold on a minute,” he attempts to defend himself, an uncomfortable blend of emotions sitting like a stone in his stomach. He’s conflicted over your new found confidence. You’re no longer the mild-mannered devotee that was wound around Mother Miranda’s finger, standing tall. You’re practically shining. It’s a good look on you, but he’s not exactly thrilled to be the one on the receiving end. “No!” You snap, squaring up to him. You see his brilliant eyes widen behind his circular glasses and for once in your life you feel powerful and in control . “I’ve done nothing but try my best here, trying to make something good out of this situation and you made me feel like a complete idiot !” The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you feel lighter now that they’re out in the open. Who knew that having your shame out in the open could feel so liberating. You take a deep breath when you feel the pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, trying to ground yourself. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him. Not in this lifetime, or the next. Heisenberg stares down at you with a look of realization on his face, now fully aware that there was more to this than your feelings of inadequacy, that you were little more than a joke to him. It’s always been there, in the way your heart races when he gets just that little bit too close or how your eyes soften when he’s agonizing over his work. He goes to speak this revelation but you shake your head, lower lip trembling. “I was just trying to help .” The way your voice breaks has him in a tailspin, the look of pure anguish in your eyes cutting him deep. This is in no way what he had envisioned when he spotted the chance to clear the air with you. “Oh come on, don’t cry!” It’s a desperate plea, something you never thought you would hear from him. “You’re making me feel really shitty here!” “That’s because you are!” You sob, unable to hold it back anymore. You feel like such a pathetic idiot. That overwhelming monster of self-degradation looms, fueling your misery. If only a dark abyss could just swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment, but you know that’s not going to happen. There’s only this awkward moment, lingering between you. You whimper, trying desperately to wipe away your tears. They stream down your cheeks, burning against your already flushed skin as you sniffle. Suddenly his hands are encasing your own in a firm grip. With a surprisingly gentle touch he tugs them down, exposing you. The whites of your eyes are marred with tiny lines of red and your long lashes clump together from your tears. You’re a mess, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds you oddly endearing in the moment. Swallowing, you try to understand what’s going on. Your hands are still held in his, the feel of soft leather almost comforting against your skin, and you wonder if you’re dreaming again. Something stirs in you, glowing embers kicking up from ashes, and you try to pull away. It’s an admirable attempt but Heisenberg easily catches you, holding you in a vice-like grip against him. You whine at the harshness of his grasp and he frowns, loosening his hold just enough to make it bearable. “I’m sorry, alright?” He mumbles, hesitating. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s been in such close proximity to someone who wasn’t prey. You aren’t fighting him, you aren’t trying your damnedest to get away. In fact, you look as though you’re captivated by him. It’s a side of him that no one has ever seen before, the dejection of a man twisted into being a monster. Something inside you breaks anew at how lost he looks, the last and most dangerous of the Lords at Mother Miranda’s disposal. He’s nothing more than a dog on a choke chain, to be used when it’s suited and then discarded afterwards. Just like you. “Heisenberg,” your voice is hushed, woeful. The words are so genuine and your heart isn’t yet made of stone to be immune to their plight. When you shift in his grasp there’s no resistance and you reach up to gently cup his cheeks in your hands. The stubble on his face tickles your palms and his skin is warm and smooth to the touch. You find you quite like it, the contrast of textures. He does little in the way to stop you. In fact, he encourages you. His hands find purchase on your hips, thumbs brushing the delicate spots just below your rib cage. It elicits a soft gasp from you, your body stiffening beneath him. Glistening eyes stare up at him, a swirling maelstrom threatening to drown him along with you. He’s curious whether or not you’re ready to commit to this. Heisenberg knows what you want, or better yet, what your body wants, but your mind eludes him. He waits with bated breath to see what path you will take, the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety creeping in his bones. It’s like poison, a crawling taint that threatens to take over him. What have you done to him? The exact same thing he did to you. It’s a disquieting notion, one that almost overtakes him, until it doesn’t. The doubts are suddenly banished and relief washes over him at the feel of your silken lips against his in a tender kiss. The chain breaks; you're both suddenly free, and it feels euphoric .

#RE #RE8 #RE 8 #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 Village #RE Imagine #RE Imagines #RE8 Imagine #RE8 Imagines #Resident Evil Imagine #Resident Evil Imagines #Karl Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg Imagine #Karl Heisenberg Imagines #Karl Heisenberg x Reader #Heisenberg Imagine #Heinsenberg Imagines #Heisenberg x Reader

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cinnonym · 3 years

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The Dark One’s Choice

As announced, I finally polished (and finished) my Dark One smut fic, sooo if you’re one of @swanqueensalad‘s horny followers (aren’t we all) or otherwise inclined to read the closest thing to smut I’ve ever written, here goes:

~5k

rating: m

mildly dubious consent, sub/dom hints, choking, restraints, power play, angst, canon-compliant

don’t like don’t read ^^

The great grandfather clock in the hallway shows half past 1 at night when Regina passes it, finally on her way to bed after a long day. Her thoughts have kept her alert until now, the risk of Emma, now as the Dark One, turning up at her doorstep to demand to have Henry too high to let her relax properly. And then there is the gaping hole in her memories, a condition she's familiar with but which still annoys her in no small measure. One moment the gates of Camelot swing open for her, the dagger pressing to her side in the warm promise of Emma's trust, then the next second she's flat on the floor of Granny's Diner, faced with Emma in full Dark One apparel, mercilessly glaring down at her. Accusing and dangerous and assuring to punish them all, though her cold eyes were on Regina only, sending a shiver down her spine that consisted of trepidation and arousal in equal measures.

Regina shudders just remembering the low purr of the Dark One's voice, the radiated dominance so different from the kind of nervous excitement that usually accompanies Emma's talks with Regina. Different, yes, but not necessarily worse, Regina thinks, the naughty admission painting an unexpected smirk on her lips, and she permits a silent chuckle before calling herself back to order. She mustn't enjoy nor underestimate the saviour's dark side. Quite the contrary, to save Emma from herself, and the rest of town from Emma, it is crucial that Regina stays alert and focuses on figuring out a way to get rid of darkness once and for all. So, no unnecessary risks. Constant vigilance.

Right on cue, the doorbell rings and startles Regina back into reality. She throws a glance at the clock. 1:40, not exactly a reasonable time for visitors, even in this tense situation. Besides, Snow, or David, and even the pirate, would have rather called to talk than walked through nightly Storybrooke with a new Dark One on the loose. No, Regina decides, it has to be Emma herself who's on her porch, now pressing the bell again.

Regina swears under her breath; if she doesn't put an end to this, Emma will wake up Henry. On the other hand, opening the door would violate the very set of rules she has just established. There's just no easy way out of this.

Emma ends up making the decision for her when suddenly greyish smoke forms right in front of Regina, vanishing to reveal the familiar frame of the saviour. Her lips set in a thin straight line, the green eyes as expressionless as earlier, she stands and looks at Regina. Just takes her in. Regina feels her skin starting to tingle when a flash of hunger crosses Emma's features, and she's suddenly all too aware of the red velvet dress she's still wearing, clinging to her curves.

"What are you doing here?" She asks when Emma still hasn't moved to talk after several seconds. Her voice is calm, only the slightest hitch in her throat betraying her racing heart. Emma is close, far too close, the aura of power that surrounds her enclosing Regina as well. She's always had a weakness for great wizardry she supposes, the mixture of envy and admiration an exhilarating drug running through her veins, and she welcomes it like an old friend.

"After weeks of sleeping wall to wall with my parents," Emma finally answers, her tone as cool and indifferent as if she were talking about the weather, "I now have the opportunity to take what I want." And she steps even closer, now bare inches separating their bodies.

A sudden fright befalls Regina, her heart fluttering weakly in her chest, colibri-like. She almost doesn't dare to ask for clarification. What if Emma has changed her mind somewhere along the way, realizing that sacrificing herself for Regina has been a mistake after all? What if she's here to make Regina pay for that mistake? What if this is revenge?

"Which is what?" Regina still whispers, hoping against all odds for a, what, fourth chance by now? But no such luck this time; Emma's eyes harden and she raises her chin. Her voice is but a whisper, her lips carefully forming the word:

"You."

Regina closes her eyes for just a second, absorbing the impact without allowing Emma to witness the emotions flickering through her mind. A second is all Emma should need to finish matters once and for all, but it passes without either of them moving and when Regina glances up at Emma again she's surprised to find a tiny glint of amusement in the depths of her eyes. And then that glint changes, grows darker, twisted, and funnily enough, heated, burning with an intensity that makes Regina automatically lower her gaze.

A throaty chuckle vibrates through Emma's body. She waves her hand, and the next thing Regina feels is the cool tapestry of the wall against her back and Emma's grip tight around her wrists, pinning her down. A hot breath tickles her earlobe when the blonde leans forward in the same movement, teeth grazing Regina's skin.

"Control is mine now. Is that understood?" Emma whispers huskily, fleetingly biting down on the sensitive flesh right under Regina's ear.

Regina can barely stifle a moan and she feels her knees grow weak. It would be so easy to give in, the fulfilling of late night dreams and poorly repressed fantasies right in front of her - but she can't. This, what's happening, is the Dark One's choice, not Emma's. And while the darkness might be prevailing in Emma's mind right now, it doesn't mean Emma isn't still in there somewhere, fighting and protesting. And when she returns and the darkness is extinguished - an act Regina will accomplish and if it so takes years - Emma will have to face regrets enough. A nightly adventure with the Queen doesn't have to be among them.

So Regina summons her strengths, and resists. Pulling away from Emma's touch as much as possible in the confined space at her disposal, she shakes her head and squares her shoulders.

"I don't think so, no."

The rage wells up in Emma immediately, her hands clenching around Regina's wrists until it hurts but Regina neither flinches nor backs down. She can tell that Emma didn't expect defiance from the way her eyes widen a fracture before darkening to a near black.

"What?"

The whisper is deadly, a promise of pain if Regina were to repeat her words. Well, Regina can handle pain, if something greater is at stake. And so she raises her chin and holds Emma's glance, proudly and with all the indifference she doesn't really feel.

"I said no, I won't defer to you. Magic doesn't make you my leader and I refuse to - "

"I am the Dark One," Emma roars and Regina once again thinks of Henry asleep upstairs. She prays he won't wake up and choose to see what's causing the commotion, or she will lose some serious ground to Emma. Maybe playing up hasn't been the best plan after all, but she can't revise her strategy now.

"I see that," Regina consequently bites right back, hoping that if she only appears strong enough, Emma will step back eventually. "But it doesn't change the fact that I won't yield to you."

It's only when the expression in Emma's changes again, turning almost playful, that Regina realizes the mistake she's made by counting on Emma's rationality. Magic is based on emotions, and since the Dark One's powers are still relatively new to Emma, she is bound to act unpredictably. Well, this brings a whole new danger to this nightly encounter. Regina's suddenly glad that her provocation didn't fuel Emma's anger. In fact, Emma is eyeing her almost fondly, leisurely letting her eyes take in every tiny aspect of Regina's complexion. The scrutiny inadvertently brings the colour to Regina's cheeks and a smirk on Emma's face.

"You don't really mean that."

And then, without another word of warning, Emma surges forward again and captures Regina's lips with hers before the mayor can dodge her. A yelp of surprise escapes Regina. She tries to jerk back, except she can't, Emma has her trapped against the wall, pressing down on her with the full length of her body. A shudder passes through Regina upon that realization, making her skin tingle and setting her nerves aflame. Never would she have thought that Emma's touch could have such an effect on her. And the kiss, the saviour's lips moving on Regina's almost feverishly. They are dry and slightly chapped under the crimson lipstick and Regina finds herself sinking into them, answering Emma's harsh bites with tentative nibbles on her own part.

But no, she must not delight in this. She has to keep a clear head, because while she is kissing Emma's lips and inhaling Emma's perfume, she has to remember that it's not Emma's mind who's in control here. And so, although a long, leather-covered leg is slowly wedging itself between Regina's, making her feel all kinds of things, including a very dominant throbbing at her core, Regina uses a momentary distraction on Emma's part to push against the arms confining her and turn her head away.

"Stop," she says, intending to sound firm, but it comes out as a strangled moan instead. Miraculously, Emma still seems to have heard her, because she pulls back slightly to look at Regina. Her eyes are darker than Regina has ever seen them and for a moment she feels her resolve weaken, but she masterfully ignores the dryness in her throat and pushes against Emma's shoulders again.

"Let me go," she demands when Emma doesn't budge, instead watching her with the faintest annoyance in the tilt of her head. Regina pushes again, a petulant move rather than a well-considered one. She should have known better than to provoke the Dark One further, but her skin is burning, and she just needs Emma to back off before she'll commit a whole different folly. And who would have known it would be just this little extra push that makes Emma snap.

But it is and the angry flashing of familiar green eyes is all the warning Regina gets before a hand wraps around her throat, constricting her airways.

"Why do you keep resisting?" Emma growls, her voice inhuman, feral. "I can see how you want this," she wriggles her leg slightly and Regina gasps when it rubs against her hot centre. It takes all her self control not to thrust her hips forward to grind against the leather, and maybe the desperation shows a little in her eyes, because Emma smirks and applies more pressure on Regina's throat.

"So why don't you take it?" She hisses and curls her index finger, the sharp nail scratching against Regina's skin, "Take it."

Suppressing a whimper, Regina feels her body react, a new gush of wetness slowly trickling down the inside of her thighs. She has to put an end to this soon or so help her.

"This is not you talking," she brings out, varying somewhere between a moan and a gasp, the limited access to oxygen finally making her feel light headed and breathless. "The darkness has lowered your inhibitions."

Emma chuckles and brings up her other hand, drawing a slow trail down Regina's stomach. When she feels muscles tensing beneath her touch, she releases a delighted laugh. It's scary how fast her emotions seem to change.

"Oh but dear," she replies, almost conversationally now, her eyes twinkling with some wicked amusement, "that is exactly why it's me talking. The darkness is simply giving me the courage to do what I've been wanting to do for a very long time."

Regina's teeth clench at the easy, un-Emma-like admission, and of course the Dark One notices.

"You don't believe me?" She snarls, suddenly furious again, "Let me prove it."

And not giving Regina a chance to react, Emma's long slender fingers press against Regina's core, cupping her through the velvety fabric of her dress. A strangled moan escapes Regina but before her body can betray her by rolling against the tantalizing touch, she summons her magic and poofs out of Emma's grasp.

Mastering magic in an emotionally turmoiled state is difficult, but Regina has perfected the technique during her long years as the Evil Queen. She materializes on the exact spot she had in mind, several metres away from where Emma had held her, an armchair in front of her, which she grabs on to in need of support. Taking a deep breath and revelling in the feeling of the air streaming in her lungs freely again, she lifts her eyes, fully expecting to see Emma leaning against the wall still. The room is empty though, without a trace of the Dark One.

Regina furrows her brow. Would Emma just leave like that? And let Regina win? It seems highly unlikely, and yet the deserted scene she's presented with suggests it. Disappointment pulses through Regina, but before she can analyse and revoke the feeling, grey smoke envelopes her. It's only due to her marvellous reflexes that Regina manages to jerk away in order to avoid being trapped again when Emma makes her appearance. An infuriating smirk is playing on her lips, which, as Regina shamefully notices while consciously pursing her own mouth, are now devoid of crimson lipstick.

"Missed me?" Emma mouths, a knowing glint in her eyes that only intensifies when Regina attempts to scoff. "Don't forget that I know when you're lying."

This comment throws Regina off balance though she refuses to let it show. It reminds her of Emma, the real Emma, untainted with darkness yet not free of pain. Emma, who through the course of her life has learned to read people to protect herself from getting hurt. Emma, whose superpower may not be perfect, despite all efforts, but with Regina it always is. Emma, who knows her.

For a moment, Regina misses her so much, the loss feels like a sharp knife twisting in her gut. And a moment is all the Dark One needs to bridge the short distance between them and cradle Regina's face in her hands. The touch is almost gentle, Emma's thumbs tracing the line of Regina's cheekbones, and when Regina looks up, she's surprised to notice the tender expression in those green eyes.

"I am still Emma you know," Emma whispers, tugging at a strand of Regina's hair, then placing it delicately behind her ear. "Still me." And then, leaning in with a wicked grin spreading on her lips she adds: "Just look at my powers like an extra gift. Something to give matters some kick..."

Regina swallows, tantalizing images penetrating her mind, colliding and overlapping with those of Emma, the real Emma, with her jutting jaw and hideous leather jackets. She shakes her head to get rid of them, refusing to let the Dark One play with her emotions any longer. It's time the Queen regains some command. For Emma's sake.

"Embracing the darkness doesn't seem very Emma-like," she counters tentatively, testing the waters by also taking a step back. Dark eyes follow her, thin lips drop into a frown, but for now Emma lets her have the distance. She just shrugs.

"Didn't want to waste the potential."

Regina takes another small step back, sees Emma's eyes dart down to her legs, freezes - but still nothing happens. Good. The gap between their bodies allows Regina to gather her wits and think of how she'll handle the situation. Hitherto, it has been Emma who set the pace, hardly giving Regina time to react. This will have to change if the mayor wants to stand any chance against the Dark One. She needs a plan to distract Emma from trying to seduce her, distract her from Henry sleeping upstairs, distract her from using her magic against Regina. And what distraction could be better than a midnight snack?

"Are you hungry? Or did the darkness extinguish this trait too?" She asks as casually as she can muster.

Emma cocks her head, an amused smile flashing over her complexion. Her eyes darken.

"On the contrary. I'm almost insatiable these days."

Regina is sure her cheeks burn brightly pink but she ignores the feeling and clears her throat.

"I meant food."

"Oh, I know what you meant," Emma smirks, disappearing and reemerging a foot closer to Regina in the blink of an eye. The mist has not yet cleared away when she repeats the trick, now standing behind Regina. Their noses are almost touching. "I also know that I'm tired of this chitchat. Why don't you put that mouth to better use elsewhere?"

A groan escapes Regina when Emma's lips once again press against hers. Still she focuses and flicks her hand to escape the Dark One's grip, reappearing on the other side of the armchair. Emma follows her before she can even breathe, pins her down to the chair, effectively demobilising Regina's wrists with her knees.

"Two can play this game," she murmurs against Regina's ear, then sits up. "Your move."

Regina's whole body seems to buzz with nerves, her skin is aflame where Emma's touching her, still she forces herself to think. Emma's magic works faster than hers, but she's inexperienced. She might be more powerful but she lacks self-discipline. If Regina managed to lure her into poofing repeatedly, unnecessarily, maybe she could tire the Dark One while saving her own strength, until eventually she would have the upper hand again.

The heat pulsing through her body is put to good use as Regina channels the energy to her palms, letting them warm up to the point where, if she were to flick her hand, she could conjure a fireball. Then she twists them, reaching for Emma's thighs.

The Dark One jerks back for only a split second, but that is sufficient for Regina who's been awaiting it. She draws her hands free and sends a magic blow at Emma. Just like she predicted, the blonde is sent flying but disappears mid air and grey mist once again embraces Regina. However, she is prepared; jumping up from the chair she creates a shield around where Emma is materializing. A hiss escapes the Dark One, then she throws her head back and laughs, short and hard. Regina's eyes dart to the staircase, to Henry, but fortunately Emma doesn't seem to notice.

"You see, there are advantages to being the Dark One," her voice comes out of nowhere as she breaks free from her cage by poofing a ridiculous amount of seven times until she's facing Regina again. "I love this form of transport."

Regina only smiles tightly, hands already up again. This is her game now. She risks wasting some of her magical energy to create a soundproof spell in the living room, then makes a swooping gesture that hurls the armchair Emma's way. Instead of stopping it, like any sensible user of magic would have, the blonde turns into swirling smoke again, and then again when Regina lets the footrest follow, and even to avoid the decorative tablecloth. It's quite ridiculous really, she's bound to get tired in the matter of minutes, and Regina allows herself a tiny self-satisfied smile. Not many can claim to have tricked the Dark One.

Except her victory only lasts seconds, when suddenly Emma's slender fingers encircle Regina's wrists once more and she's slammed against the wall.

"Oh Regina," Emma purrs in a low voice that seems to buzz through Regina's entire body. "Do you honestly think I don't know what you're trying to do?" Her free hand delivers a soft, almost gentle blow to Regina's cheek. Regina quivers, not from the sting but from the unexpected flash of pleasure that burns through her veins. Who would have thought that Emma harbours sides like this.

Not Emma but the Dark One, Regina tells herself as she stares up at her opponent, who in her turn is eyeing her appreciatively.

"What am I trying to do then?" She utters defiantly, wriggling her hands until Emma is forced to let her go. Without granting herself a second of triumph, Regina snaps her fingers and shiny black metal starts growing around Emma's wrist, holding it effectively in place above her head.

"You think you can exhaust me," Emma smirks, not at all bothered by the constraint, "You think you can lure me into wasting my power until it's drained." Another click of fingers and a chain sprouts from the first cuff, enclosing Emma's other hand and pulling it up too. Still the Dark One doesn't move, doesn't fight it. Regina is beginning to feel a bit uncertain about her plan to bind Emma's wrists. It should render her helpless, incapable of using her magic, so why doesn't she look the least bit concerned? Why is she smiling still?

"This is kinky," Emma mentions, almost conversationally. Regina cocks her head.

"Usually I'm the dominant one," she says, in spite of her instincts' warning not to trust her victory yet. A grave mistake.

"I am the Dark One!" Emma suddenly roars, and never in her life has Regina been so glad about the existence of soundproof spells. At least Henry's safe, she thinks, as she's hurled backwards into the couch. Emma, inexplicably, has freed herself from the handcuffs. Her face is contorted with rage as she attacks Regina with blasts and blasts of magic.

"How can you think my power would be finite?" She screams and wrecks the couch on top of Regina who barely has time to roll away.

"How can you think you could shackle me? Dominate me?" She screeches and the iron chains turn into snakes at her feet and lunge at Regina.

"Why won't you let me take you?" She cries and yes, she's crying now, and as they fall, her tears become ice spears that are aiming at Regina.

"After everything I've done for you!" And at this Emma breaks down, collapses into a small heap on the floor that's shaken by sobs. With her deflate the snakes, until they're just iron again, curled around Regina's legs. It is very silent all of a sudden, and Regina stands in the middle of her demolished living room, watching her friend cry.

"Emma," she says cautiously after a while, because the woman before her is Emma now, Emma in all her broken glory, Emma the abused saviour, Emma, still breathing under her cloak of darkness.

Emma, who is now lifting her head, face stained with too much mascara. It looks like the darkness is bleeding out of her with every black tear that's rolling down her cheeks, but Regina knows this is not the case, unfortunately. Darkness doesn't yield to grief, quite contrary. It consumes it, forges it into yet another weapon, feeds on it until it's strong enough to take over control. Which means, Regina has to play on this break now, has to use it to talk to Emma before the woman she likes, loves as she realizes now, becomes captive to the Dark One again.

"Emma," she says again, stepping out of the chains and hurrying to the shaking heap. She hesitates briefly, before reaching out to gingerly wrap her arms around Emma. A sigh shudders through them both as Emma accepts the embrace and leans into Regina.

"I just wanted..." Emma begins but Regina shushes her before she can finish her sentence.

"You don't have to explain yourself," she murmurs into Emma's hair and god, why didn't they hug before? Why did it have to come to a catastrophe for her to realize how much she'd yearned for this?

"But I want to explain," Emma protests, muffled against Regina's shoulder, still weak but already defiant again. Regina smiles and releases her reluctantly. Emma's hair is still the Dark One's, her face still greyish white, but her eyes look at Regina the same way they've always had. Or, not exactly the same, because when they were reserved and secretive before, they now shine with a brutal honesty that makes Regina squirm under their gaze. Emma Swan has let her walls down.

"I meant what I said earlier," Emma says at the same time as Regina blurts out: "Don't tell me things you'll regret later."

Emma frowns. "Stop interrupting me, Regina." Her voice rings with a newfound authority that has Regina look at her in alarm, certain that the darkness has regained control. But Emma's eyes remain soft and full of emotion, and her lips form a smile instead of a sneer. Regina relaxes a bit.

"As I was saying," Emma then continues as if nothing happened, "I meant what I said, about me still being me and the darkness simply giving me courage." She takes a deep breath. "I've meant every word I said and I've meant every move I made. I see the way you look at me, Regina, I know that you want me. Yet you're acting as if you hate me. Why?" Her eyes search Regina's and first now does Regina notice how tired Emma looks. How worn, how sad, how, yes, broken. And Regina realizes, she can't lie to her.

"Because," she therefore begins, her voice feeling scratchy in her throat as she fights her own terror about admitting her thoughts. "Because I like you, Emma, very much. And I can't let the Dark One ruin your life even more by sleeping with me without your consent. I can't let the darkness abuse you. I'm not gonna lie, I was tempted. It's your body I desire, but it's your mind I love and I can't do this to you." Regina's voice breaks and she realizes she's crying too now. "I can't do this to you," she repeats weakly and prays, for the sake of both of them, that the Dark One won't choose this moment to return.

"But Regina, don't you see?" Emma whispers, her hands reaching for Regina's. "I am the Dark One." She says it differently now, softer, soothing. "I am consenting. This is me acting, all me, body and mind and heart if you so will, and everything is striving after you."

And Regina is shaking her head, not believing, never believing, although she absorbs every single word Emma is saying.

"Regina, listen!" Emma says, sharper now. Regina is listening, but she wishes she wasn't, wishes she didn't have to hear the words that are too good to be true.

"Didn't I become the Dark One for you?" Emma inquires, "Didn't I give you the dagger as a token of my trust?"

"And yet you erased our memories from Camelot," Regina counters, her mind clinging to this one sane thought in a desperate attempt to withstand the madness Emma's offering.

"To protect you!" Emma says, louder, as if she feels that she's losing Regina. "Camelot was a disaster. A broken kingdom with a corrupt king. Arthur, he didn't help us to find Merlin - he sabotaged all our plans. Everything, this whole mission to Camelot failed, and in the end, bringing us back to Storybrooke was the only thing I could do to save us... Taking your memories was a necessity in the process, but believe me, I'll only keep them until I've sorted out the dangers that are still present."

"What dangers?" Regina whispers when Emma doesn't continue. Her thoughts are racing to keep up with Emma's tale. In a horrible way it all makes sense, matches up with what few memories Regina has of Camelot and its leader. The shrewd look Arthur gave them when they first arrived to the kingdom, the scheming in his glance, the triumphant smile. "What dangers?" She repeats, urgently now, afraid.

"I can't tell you," Emma says, not meeting Regina's eyes. She sounds apologetic but also stubborn, a faint trace of the original Emma in her voice and Regina's heart would warm if it weren't so frustrating.

"Emma," she sighs and the woman before her crumples.

"I'm sorry." Barely a whisper.

"Why did you come here?" Regina asks, equally low. Her heart is still pounding and her skin crawls where Emma has touched her and while she's glad they're talking now, a tiny part of her wishes they could go back to kissing. A tiny part that Regina deliberately chooses to ignore.

"I needed to see someone," Emma murmurs, still evading Regina's gaze. "To know what I'm fighting for."

"But why me?"

A frown settles on Emma's brow, her lips forming a pout and for a second she looks so much like Emma that Regina almost jerks away, the proximity suddenly overwhelming her. She doesn't have the right to be here, cradling Emma's face, not while all they are is friends and both of them have a boyfriend waiting. And yet Emma doesn't move away, doesn't tell her no. Only looks at her in this intoxicating defiance.

"Because I made a mistake. And I will fix it but I needed to be sure first."

"Sure of what?" Regina breathes, although she already has an inkling what Emma is going to say. And indeed:

"Your feelings," Emma affirms her suspicions, and for the first time tonight the blonde looks nervous. "You do have feelings for me, right?"

Regina closes her eyes. Her head is swimming, the late hour and extensive display of magic at last taking its toll.

"Emma..."

"Please." The word is carefully enunciated, every letter pronounced with a purpose that lets Regina know just how much it costs Emma to say it. "I promise I will sort this out, I promise I can. I just need to have something that I can come back to. I need you to be there when I do. I... need you."

"And I need you," Regina whispers, because what else is there to say? What point is there in resistance when all the walls have been torn down anyway, when her heart lies bare and hurting amidst the ruins? When Emma has already seen it in its truest state, what use is there in lying? "I need you, Emma," she therefore repeats, her hands still cupping Emma's cheeks, her eyes mapping every inch of Emma's face. "I need you to come back. If I let you go now - promise you will come back."

"As long as you'll have me," Emma says, "I will always come back."

And she snaps before Regina can say anything else, dissolving into grey smoke between Regina's fingers.

#swanqueen #swanqueen fanfiction #sq fanfic #my writing #dark swan #uhhhhhhhhhhh so yeah this got out of hand at some parts whoops #come get yall some dark swan smut hehe #okay its not real smut #but close enough #also this is partly very old (like from a few years back) so dont judge past-zoes writing too much pls #thank u #anyhoo time to wrap up the tag rant #zoe out #sq

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han-shinsuke · 3 years

Text

ɢᴇᴛᴏ sᴜɢᴜʀᴜ x ғᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Desperate to burden you more with thoughts and a few of his hard rubbing, Geto places himself between your legs and rubs his tip against your flushed lips down there, throwing you on the edge of torturous sensation. “Ge–Geto... please...” when he gets his desired reaction from you, a low chuckle emerges from him. To his kind, hearing a lady moaned softly was rewardingly good. And you did good, moaning his name like that.

🔞🌹 “does it hurt?” his tune was different compared to the normal tone he uses in class. There was a faint smell of concern in it and for a second, you wanted to believe that he cares for you for having his thing installed balls deep into you. The sheet is wet and so the pillow case where you had been muffling your moans and tears. You cried out the pain, digging your nails against your own flesh since your hands were tied behind your back while he was there, above your bareback, big hands gripping tightly on your waist as he makes sure you’d be filled with his arousal. One more long and strong push of his hips, you found yourself trembling from pain and an ounce of pleasure from his final assault. Geto withdrawn his shaft from your swollen anusx and he carefully rolled you on your back, checking your condition. “Does it hurt?” as if to make fun of your struggles, he asks again, swiping his thumb against your swollen lips. This may sounds funny but you couldn’t help but asked yourself if there were any part of you that hadn’t been touched and sucked by him. Probably, there’s none. Because Geto Suguru never missed. Putting your state in consideration, he feels obliged to answer his own inquiry, “of course, it hurts. I was your first, ms. front row.” You stared at his face, drained and in pain. If only you could wipe his smirk off his handsome face, you would. Sadly, you can’t. You need to stabilize your breathing and regain some energy in order to leave his estate. Though it feels impossible but you must. “G–get off me.” You gave him an undisturbed look, thinking of some effective ways to get to the bus station to not miss its last trip. Desperate to burden you more with thoughts and a few of his hard rubbing, Geto places himself between your legs and rubs his tip against your flushed lips down there, throwing you on the edge of torturous sensation. “Ge–Geto... please...” when he gets his desired reaction from you, a low chuckle emerges from him. To his kind, hearing a lady moaned softly was rewardingly good. And you did good, moaning his name like that. “Here’s the money,” again, the guilt was eating you up. Geto hands you the amount you both agreed on. You were no different from those department harlots who jumped on men like Suguru. “I’ll shower first, just wait here.” You got no time to waste so when he enters the bathroom, you put on your crumpled uniform, left his huge bedroom, painfully went through wide hallways and numerous staircases. As you stared back at the tall and automated gate, another slap from reality had hit you hard. Suguru Geto is reality miles away from the mud you’re in. You have reached the station on time. Luckily, the last bus hasn’t arrived yet so you took the chance to sleep in the shed. Fuck life. It will take a dozen of painkiller to calm your wrecked flesh and disturbed nerves, you thought. 🌹 “Your balance has been settled, Ms. Y/N.” The registrar shows you the updated payment of your account and you were not happy or pleased by it. You had someone in mind and just the thought of it, you can feel the anger and insult building inside of you. As usual, he’s there, surrounded by his kind. Women lurking around him as if they are there like an options for Geto to pick who knows who. He raises an arm, waving at you. You answered by nodding your head. Your knuckles turned white as he flashes you an innocent grin. The chair on the front row creates a screeching noise as you sat on it. You were so mad right now. Maybe throwing a shoe to his direction can lessen the fuming anger in you but you’re not that kind of person. You settled things privately. Just wait, Geto. You fucking wait and I’ll burn you alive. “Happy Birthday,” a hand put a protein bar and a can of chilled coffee on your desk. There’s no need to look at the giver. The bite mark on his wrist is enough to identify him. You were the one who put it on him last night. Your gaze follows Geto’s back as he returns to the back row. The place where strength and power lies. At twenty, you sold your dignity to

Geto Suguru. Now that you turned twenty one, you have promised that would be the first and last time you’ll use your innocence to overcome a problem. 🌹 “You’ve paid me well, Suguru, but I don’t accept tip for my service.” He didn’t speak. He must be in a state of shock after receiving a slap from you. After the exam, you confronted him and lashed out your anger from his doings. “I’m returning the money you had given last night. Thank you for the kind gesture.” You said in a very sarcastic tone. 🌹🔞 Suguru Geto is an heir. Unlike the other, he has no records of bad memories or any sad untold stories. The life his parents had given him was very ideal and perfect. He has friends and loved by many. And from those infos, you have come up with a thought that maybe, due to the perfectly laid out plan of his life, Suguru is trying to create a fault in his flawless existence. A fault that made you so eager to avoid him, that no matter where you tried to look at it, you’re a trial for him. Would he mind if you’ll be found in front of his doorstep, soaking and looks like a real shit? Well, that’s what he was looking for! A shit to jump in! “Geto!” he looks beautiful when he opened the door for you. The spotless white shirt he was wearing is now covered with dirt. Suguru returns your action, hugging you close against his body. “What happened?” his question after closing the door. Instead of answering, you just tightened the embrace around him and bit your lips to suppress your cry. “No–nothing... I’m sorry for barging in so late at night.” You tried to sound convincing and smiled. Your hand reached for the knob but Geto pulls you back, cupping your face between his warm hands. That’s the moment you gave in, face contorting as you cried helplessly while gripping his shirt. That’s all you need. Someone who can ask with sympathy. Someone who cares. For now, Suguru seems to care for you that’s why you let yourself cried in front of him. That moment, he looks and he feels like someone you can rely on with all the shits happening around you. You told him everything in details, not missing a part of it. You slept with him in exchange of some bucks. Gave your innocence with the man you thought who deserves it and that was him, Suguru Geto. Rather than selling it with your obsessed landlord, who also threatened to kill you if you refuse to bed him, you ran for your life, escaping the hell hole you have been in. You just wanted to graduate in college, make it until graduation but life have forced you to your limit. “I would rather die than to sleep with a psycho,” you confessed to him. You needed money and without those shit, you will not make it. You were so desperate to live. So desperate for a safe environment. You couldn’t even call your parents and tell them about your misfortunes for they are as well struggling to live, to sustain their needs. “You can stay here,” suddenly he suggested. “For free. No hidden charges.” He jokes. “I will be useful.” You ensures him. “You’re already are.” Geto smiles, tucking your hair behind your right ear. 🌹🔞⚠️ Whe he says, no hidden charges, there were really not. Guess, he doesn’t like the idea of tasting the same food he had before. You have been living with him for almost a month now but he’s not making a move to you. He lends you a spacious room and that made you felt lonely and cold. There was a time when Suguru brought a woman from the engineering department and you happened to witness their make out session in the kitchen one night. You were so embarrassed then apologized to them. As of the moment, you’re in the barn house, feeding his two pet horses while wearing the dress that Geto bought for you. “Y/N–” he swallows his words upon seeing you leaning forward in one of the stables, reaching the harness to check it. Suguru grits his teeth, seeing your thighs and curves are too much for him. Suddenly, he regretted purchasing the cerulean dress that fits perfectly on you. Your throat felt dry. You were familiar with the heat oozing from his

gaze. You’ve seen that during your first time with him. He walks to you, grabbing your hand, dragging you to the second level of the barn where you were slammed against the wooden wall. You cried in pain but immediately silenced by rough and hungry kisses of Suguru. At first, you couldn’t find the will to kiss him back but by just a lick on your bottom lip, you found yourself opening up for him, tilting your head to the side to give him easy access to your mouth. “Geto... ” his name slipped from your lips, pushing your own tongue into his, determined to play with his expert ones. He hummed between the kiss, supporting your chin through his forefinger. Suguru is really tall that you had to tiptoe to reach his mouth and kiss him back with same intensity. You gathered up enough courage and Suguru, himself, didn’t saw it coming. You caught him by surprised, pulling him down to you to suck on his bottom lip and lick it afterwards. “Fuck, babe.” He breathes when you released his mouth. Time for another surprise, you guided him to the nearest storage box and motioned to sit. You stopped him in the middle because you had to remove his pants and boxers. As soon as he settled, naked, Suguru holds your hair for you when you started sucking his thing. His moans and heavy breaths filled the space and your wet sucking sounds rings louder as he guides your face up and down to his erection covered in your saliva. You raised a hand when his grip tightened on your hair, almost like crashing your mouth with his hard and thick head that had been knocking your pipe pretty hard every time he goes balls deep in your mouth. You coughed helplessly as he frees you, gagging from the overwhelming thickness of his manhood. Geto cups your face and stares at you with malice before kissing you torridly, so eager to drown you with his lips and tongue that you accepted wholeheartedly. “Can I fuck you against the wall and tie you up as well?” a part of you shivered but you didn’t say ‘no’. He takes that as a ‘yes’ so you watched yourself slowly levitating from being tied up and held possessively by Suguru’s strong arms. You gasped for air when he enters your pretty tight hole in one swift push and managed to knock against your womb. “You’re so big, Geto aah!” your head fell back, the feeling of his throbbing manhood inside you is suffocating. You gasped again, sweats rolling down your neck as you let yourself adjust from his size. Geto licks your collarbone, nipping his lips against your skin up to your neck where he gets a taste of your tears and sweats, “really? You think I’m big? I feel honoured, babe.” He sucks the hollow on your neck and pulls slowly. Your eyes widened, feeling how a simple movement can stretch your rim wide open. “Aahhnnggg~ Ge–Getooo... ” You tugged your arms against the shackles, another pain inflicted upon you. And then there’s another pain, and it was a long one. He pushes fast, stretching you inside by installing deep inside of you, causing your hips to tremble when he smacks your ass and gropes you hard. As you can noticed, Suguru was being careful not to ruin the dress, the straps were rolled down just below your shoulder and he perfectly exposes your breasts, nipplesx really hard and red. For the second time in a row, your head fell back when he dips down your chest, sucking in a nipplesx while swirling his tongue around it. Geto. Geto. You went crazy and delirious. He’s attending your needy titsx with his thirsty mouth, biting the skin around it then going back to sucking the two buds alternately like a child. When he’s done showering your bosoms with attention, Suguru goes back to pushing further inside you, pulling his shaft roughly and then again, he never gets tired rutting you with his thing, slamming your hips against his hips. He was using different paces in stretching you wide so when he feels your breathing returning to normal, he would suddenly thrust his rod in and out of you roughly, making you gasp for air. “My arms feels numb, Geto ooohhh god!” you cried again, bursting into tears

when you felt him grinding his hips against yours while unloading his jizz. He stops moving for awhile but his loads are still oozing from his tip. “Okay, babe aahh~ hold tight.” Geto says, removing the shackles then locking your arms around his neck. Just when you thought it’s over, he lays you on the dust covered floor, folds you in half, hips ramming deep as he continues spilling his seeds into your cunt. He shoots you, with his long strings of arousal, fucked hard in a breathless mating press position. You’re just a dust in Suguru Geto’s universe. 🌹 Your surrounding turned pitch black with scattered stars in the night sky. You expected the moon to smile down at you but it was the greater creation who have his eyes on you. Universe taking his time looking at a particular dust. “where are we heading to?” you asked, blinking. He stops to carry you properly in his arms before answering, “home, Y/N.” Your eyes fell to the place you’ve been to. The door was left unlocked. “You forgot to lock the barn, Geto.” “They would not think of escaping, babe. They’re drawn to me and they are loyal to me.” You turned to the night sky once again, mesmerized by its beauty, you asked him a weird question, “since the door isn’t locked, then I’m free to go whenever I want to?” “Well, if it’s about you leaving my land, then expect some changes in the security. I can be selfish at times, Y/N.” “What do you meant by that, Geto?” “I just don’t think I’m capable of letting you go anymore.” ❤️

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk geto #geto headcanons #geto suguru #geto imagines #getou suguru x reader #not suitable for minors #smut with a plot #jujutsu kaisen #lovely #im a simp for suguru

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tacticaldiary · 3 years

Note

BRO BRO BRO HI I JUST READ UR OIKAWA X READER FIC CALLED LOSING AND I NEED A PART TWO ISTG- ITS VERY GOOD FJSHDBDHDBDB

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ask and you shall receive! :) @yagucci

Losing Pt.2

Part 1

Genre: Fluff, a lil angst

Pairing: Reader x Tooru Oikawa

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

It was surprisingly easy to avoid Oikawa. All Y/N had to do was look for the gaggle of lovestruck fangirls and then get out of the vicinity. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when she heard him call out after her desperately. She had managed to avoid him for a week. A whole 7 days without Oikawa.

Now that she had time to think, Y/N realises why he acted out like that. He had been tired and was hurting, with no clear outlet for his frustrations. She knew he wasn’t a violent person, by nature, that was more of an Iwaizumi thing. He preferred to show his love straightforwardly with affectionate gestures, so she had been scared and taken aback to see him act like that.

Y/N rubs her forearm at the memory. The bruise had mostly faded, only visible if you looked really closely. She missed him a lot, his warm hugs and affectionate gestures, his voice and his smiles, but nothing could excuse him physically hurting her, and Y/N refused to talk to him until he found a way to fix things. If he only saw her as a ‘problem’, then maybe they both would be better off without each other.

Shaking her head the thought, she continues walking down the school hallway. THe last lesson had ended 15 minutes ago and Y/N had been hanging around the classroom in an attempt to avoid Oikawa, who had taken it upon himself to wait outside her classes. He usually left after waiting for a bit, probably assuming Y/N had already left.

He furrows his eyebrows when the doors to the gymnasium don’t budge. Checking his pocket for the keys, which he really shouldn’t need to use because the whole team was supposed to be here by now, he sighs when he remembers how Iwaizumi had asked to have them this morning. Practise wasn’t cancelled today, as far as he knew, so why wasn’t anyone opening the door.

“Hello?” he bangs on the door, pausing when he hears the squeaking of shoes on the floorboards. The door fly open to reveal Iwaizumi.

“Iwa-Chan! Are you trying to lock me out?” he says, moving to push past him into the gym, where he could see the rest of his team already warming up.

He makes it about five steps in before he’s yanked back out. Letting out a sound of surprise. He regains his footing and stares at Iwaizumi, who is looking at him with scowl.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

Oh. He knew then.

“I know.” he crosses his arms.

“Have you even tried to fix it?” “Of course I have! I just can’t get a hold of her, she’s avoiding me, Iwa-chan!” he huffs, frowning.

“She has every right too.” he sighs. Glancing at something over his best friends shoulder, he says. “Don’t screw this up” before walking back into the gym, shutting the door in Oikawa’s face when he tries to follow.

He turns his back to the doors, about to yell something about Iwaizumi being mean, but freezes when he sees Y/N standing there, just as stunned as he is. They make eye-contact briefly, before Y/N shifts her gaze to the floor and starts walking past him.

Oikawa moves to block her path. “Y/N-chan, please...hear me out.” he says.

She considers it and sighs, still staring at the ground in front of his feet stubbornly. “What do you want Oikawa-”

“Tooru.” he blurts out before he can stop himself. “It-...can it still be Tooru?”

She blinks in surprise and shifts her gaze up to him. He had a pained, slightly hopeful expression on his face. “Why should it be?”

“Because I miss you.” he moves closer to her, and tallies it up as progress when she doesn’t move away. “I miss you so much, I can’t think properly.”

“Well you should have thought of that before you...” she trails off rubbing her forearm subconsciously. The movement doesn’t escape his eyes, and he frowns when he sees the remnants of the bruise. His bruise.

He gingerly reaches out and gently grasps her arm, checking to see that she was okay with it, before carefully bringing it up to his face to have a closer look. Running his thumb over the patch of skin, he whispers.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Y/N-chan. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” his voice gets slightly louder. “You know I’d never hurt you on purpose right? It was an accident. I want to say that I’ll be more careful next time, but there won’t be a next time, ever, I swear.” his tone gets more desperate, willing her to believe him, pleading with her to see he means it.

“Oikawa, It’s-” he swears he’s never hated his last name this much before and he cuts her off

“You’re not a problem Y/N-chan, I promise. I was just...frustrated, I guess. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Please forgive me, I miss you so damn much. I don’t want to lose you.” he brings her palm to his cheek and looks at her pleadingly.

“It’s alright...Tooru.” she smiles a little, amused by the way his face lights up. “I’m not going anywhere. I just want you to stop pushing yourself so much.”

He nods, his body relaxing with relief. When she pulls him forward for an embrace, he eagerly complies, throwing his arms around her and burying his face in her shoulder. God, he missed this. He missed her, he thinks, pecking her temple sweetly.

After a few moments, he takes her by the hand intertwining their fingers and grabs her bag from where it had fallen on the floor. He pulls her along with him as they walk towards the front gates.

“Tooru, the gym’s back that way.”

He glancing back for a second, before grinning at Y/N. “Practise can wait.”

The statement leaves Y/N shell-shocked. Never in her life did she think she’d hear those words from his mouth.

“Y/N-chan, you’re gonna catch flies.” he grins and continues to pull her along. “Come on! I’m thinking we get ice-cream.”

“Y-yeah, that works.”

They walk together, falling easily into their old pattern of banter and all the both of them can think is how much they missed this.

Requests are open

#haikyuu fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #haikyu x reader #oikawa fluff #hurt comfort #y/n #aoba josai x reader #hq oikawa #oikawa x reader #x reader #tooru

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kozumekenza · 3 years

Text

house of memories :: six

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.0k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: mafia elements, profanity, kidnapping, drug use, guns

Kageyama Tobio paces in front of your lab building. You should have been done an hour ago, and normally you text if something comes up. Maybe you’re studying or had to do extra lab work. He shouldn’t worry himself yet.

Six hours later, Kageyama finds himself at his desk, looking over security camera footage with Miwa leaning over his shoulder. His phone buzzes next to him; a simple picture is the only message. His shaking hand causes the phone to slip from his grip, falling to the floor. His stomach drops as his heart cracks.

---

Your first thought is that your head hurts. Your second thought is that you need to figure out what the hell happened.

You keep your eyes closed; if your attackers are near you, you don’t want them to know that you’re awake yet. Instead, you focus on what information you can gather from your other senses.

You’re laying on your back, on what you guess is a bed. It’s soft underneath your back, which is a slight relief. You can’t be in too much danger if your kidnappers have given you a comfortable bed, right? The room isn’t completely dark; your eyes are able to register that something is emitting a soft light. If you focus, you can hear muffled voices, probably in a hallway outside the room you’re in.

You slowly open your eyes; there doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger. Most of your assumptions were correct. You’re in a small room, lying on a bed, blankets covering you. There are no windows, but a lamp on the bedside table casts the room in soft yellow light. A closed door is to your right, and you can hear the voices that way. Besides missing your shoes, you’re still fully dressed in what you were wearing. The backpack you were carrying is missing, along with your phone. There’s no telling how long you were out for or what time it is now. You can only pray that Kageyama knows you wouldn’t miss your lunch date without telling him; that he realizes something is amiss.

The lock on the door clicks, and you sit up, preparing yourself for whoever enters. It’s the man who was leaning over you before you passed out; you recognize his sickening grin. His smile only widens when he sees that you’re awake, and he comes towards the side of the bed as you try to crawl away from him.

“I’m glad to see that you’re finally awake, darling.”

His voice drips with sweet venom, making you cringe. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He cocks his head to the side. “No can do, darling. You’re mine now.”

“I don’t even know you. Let me go.” You really wish that you had anything to use against him; a weapon, a knife, even something to throw at him.

“You know me. Well, maybe you don’t, but Tobio sure does. Isn’t that right?” Your eyes widen as he pulls a cellphone from his pocket, your cellphone, you realize. Kageyama’s not on speaker, but you can hear his voice. He’s shouting, screaming at this guy in front of you, and it all suddenly clicks.

These are the people who have the files. This is Seijoh. This is who Kageyama was worried about.

You don’t know how you didn’t realize it from the start; getting drugged must have slowed down your brain. Now that you know the situation you’re in, adrenaline starts to kick in. This is the mafia, and these people will kill you. You know this, and you need to escape before that can happen. Seijoh will do anything to get to Kageyama, and you can’t allow him to risk anything to get you back. You will have to escape yourself.

“Give me the phone.” The man glances up at you, eyebrows shooting up at your request.

“Why would I do such a thing?” Kageyama’s still shouting, even louder now. The man hums thoughtfully, then presses a button. “I guess I could put him on speaker.”

Kageyama’s voice is now clear, but all you hear are threats and a lot of shouting.

“Tobio?” You call his name, hoping he’ll hear it through all his yelling, and vaguely, it crosses your mind that this is the first time in four years that you’ve used Kageyama’s given name.

“Y/n?” His voice is frantic, and you can almost picture him, disheveled and pacing back and forth. The thought brings tears to your eyes. You have to escape, if only so that you can see him again, tell him you love him, call him by his first name to his face.

“I’m here. Listen, don’t do anything stupid. I’ll find a way out, I promise.”

“Y/n, I’m going to come get you, don’t listen to anything Oikawa tells you. I’ll give him whatever he wants in exchange for you returning safely, he knows that.” You look to the man, Oikawa.

“Tobio, don’t you dare do anything stupid. Don’t give him anything. I’ll kill you myself if you do. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’ll find a way out.”

Oikawa grins. “Alright, that’s enough.” Kageyama’s shouting as Oikawa ends the call, pocketing your phone. He extends his hand to you, and you grimace.

“Come on. Why don’t we chat for a bit, darling?”

---

Kageyama Tobio tosses his phone across the room in anger. You are so, so brave and he is not worthy of you. You were taken right from him, in broad daylight, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Even with your warnings, he is willing to do anything to get you home, to bring you back safe.

Miwa brings him tea as he pours over every piece of information he has. She calls his associates; his most trusted men, any and all rival gangs he has alliances with.

He can only pray that you are safe, that Oikawa wouldn’t harm his most powerful bargaining chip.

---

When Oikawa reaches for you, you grab his hand and pull him towards you, punching him in the nose. He’s shouting for someone, but you’re too focused on doing all the damage you possibly can. You don’t notice when another man comes into the room, syringe in hand, and pricks you in the arm. As the world fades and tears form in your eyes, you can only hope that you’ll have the chance to wake once again.

---

When you wake again, you are thankful. You’re in the same room with the same surroundings. There is no telling how long you were out for this time, but you’re mercifully alone. That is enough to encourage you to get up, to start thinking of a plan. You try to sit up, but your muscles are weak. It takes minutes to pull yourself into a sitting position, and you’re exhausted by the end of it. You can’t do anything like this. You collapse back down again, praying that whatever drugs they’ve given you will be worn off by the time you wake next.

---

The Artura roars as Kageyama presses down on the gas, one hand on the gearshift. It’s nearing dawn; he’s been out all night looking for clues and a way to see Oikawa without provoking him. None of his efforts have proven futile, so now, he does what he should’ve done first: gone straight to the source.

There are no bodyguards are security outside the lavish mansion, not even a gate. He parks at the top of the driveway, just outside the garage. There have to be security cameras, but he doesn’t care. He’ll get what he’s here for regardless.

Oikawa’s personal residence is an elaborate estate on the outskirts of Tokyo. It’s quite the commute, Kageyama thinks, for someone who works in the heart of the city. He himself prefers living where he works; it’s an easy way to oversee all of his assets and ensure that everything is running smoothly.

This isn’t his first time here, and when he goes to push the front door open, it is unlocked. Kageyama’s mind screams that this means danger, but it doesn’t fully sink in until he walks into the foyer, a gun pointed at his head.

Oikawa Tooru stands leisurely, even when pointing a glock at someone’s forehead. His smile is the same as ever; a chilling, too-nice thing that has always given Kageyama the creeps. His finger hovers on the trigger, and Kageyama immediately realizes that he has made a grave mistake.

If Oikawa pulls that trigger, he will be dead, and there is no way of knowing what will happen to you.

---

When the blanket of sleep lifts again, you are feeling significantly better. There is no one in the room and the drugs have worn off. You rifle through the nightstand’s drawers first. There seems to be nothing of importance, all of the drawers are empty, until you hit the bottom one.

You dig your fingernails into the edge. The depth of this drawer was significantly less than the rest, and your suspicions are proven correct when the false bottom pops out and a handgun is revealed.

Laughing, you grab it, popping the safety off. It’s a miracle, really, that you were able to find such a thing. You stand and head to the door, expecting it to be locked, another challenge to face. Instead, it opens with ease, and you step out into the hall with chills crawling down your spine. Someone is allowing you to leave, and that is unusual.

You stick to the walls as you make your way around. You can hear faint voices, and you follow them through the confusing layout of the house. You look around a corner, gun poised and ready to shoot, when someone grabs you from behind.

You shriek as an arm is snaked around your body, one of your attacker’s hands coming up to cover your mouth. Your eyes are wide in fear when they turn you around, and you remember the gun in your hand. You bring it up to shoot, closing your eyes and hating yourself for what you’re about to do, but your attacker knocks it from your hand easily.

You recognize him, he was there when you were first kidnapped. He puts a hood over your hand and leans in close.

“Stay quiet if you want lover-boy to stay alive.”

Goosebumps prickle on your skin at his words. He can only mean Kageyama, right? You pray that Kageyama is safe, that he didn’t do anything stupid, that he’s alive and well and not here.

You’re led around the house; you can’t see anything, and you’re thoroughly confused with all of the turns by the time you’re led down a set of stairs and towards the voices you heard earlier.

Your heart drops when you’re close enough to distinguish the voices.

“Anything, really? You’d give me your business, your assets, your life?”

Oikawa’s voice is smooth, and you can tell he’s finding humor in the situation at hand, but it isn’t his voice that concerns you.

“Anything.”

No. No. No.

You silently cry when you hear Kageyama’s voice. Why is he here? Why didn’t he stay away like you told him to? Why is he risking everything?

“Hm. Well, if I’m going to kill you, wouldn’t it be better to have an audience?”

You’re thrust forward, nearly stumbling without anyone’s hands to keep you steady. The man from before rips the hood off of your head, and you come face to face with Oikawa, a gun in his hand, aiming for Kageyama. You can’t run to either of them, someone will shoot you if you do. Instead, you hold your ground.

“Let her go.” Kageyama’s voice is thick with anger, and you let your tears fall. “At least don’t make her watch this.”

“You aren’t in a position to make demands right now. I could just as easily kill her instead. Actually,” Oikawa’s easy smile makes you want to scream, “Hajime, why don’t you show poor Tobio how bad this could really get.”

The man behind you, Hajime apparently, grabs you again so that you can’t move. Kageyama’s eyes widen in fear; you aren’t sure why, Hajime just grabbed you, that’s all.

Everything makes sense when you feel the cold press of a gun against your temple.

taglist: @lilith412426 @itoshibaby @wallywaffle @princess-sunshyn @zukoslosthishonor @fatal-impact @kageyamakock

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automaticneon · 3 years

Text

Clouds

Chapter 1: Automatic Love (NSFT)

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

Summary: “When desires go unfulfilled, they turn into needs”

Clouds is the most technologically advanced dollhouse in Madripoor. It’s a void for people to escape into, or at least the lucky few that can afford to visit.

And Zemo is very lucky.

The reader meets a strange new client, a man of mystery and poetic language and when she uncovers a secret most valuable to Helmut Zemo, their relationship goes from professional to something much more profound.

A/N: It’s essentially a Cyberpunk AU, but you don’t need to know a thing about the game! I’ve just borrowed the names of locations and the concept of Clouds. The reader is essentially a high clas s*x worker, if that isn’t your cup of tea, this probably isn’t the fic for you!

If this was high-end, there was no way to tell.

At least that’s what Zemo thinks as his car pulls up outside the mega-building. It’s an unsightly structure but not uncommon for this area of Madripoor, about fifty-storey’s tall and covered in vibrant LED screens.

For a minute he considers instructing his driver to take him back to his apartment in high-town so he can pretend this never happened. He had been averse to this idea already, but a friend from his military days had been convinced he should try coming here. “It’s cutting-edge” is what he had been told, but what exactly cutting-edge meant was a mystery to Zemo.

“Would you like me to wait for you, Sir?” the driver asks, snapping Zemo out of his thoughts.

The baron swipes his hand over his face, taking one last look at the building outside the window before responding.

“No, I’ll call when I’m done.”

He reckons his driver knows what he’s doing here. Mega-building H8 was known for only one thing, its position on the layline between high and low town meant it was frequented by all wealthy inhabitants of Madripoor. Mobsters and politicians alike congregated at this monster of architecture, hopeful of its contents and desperate to go unrecognised.

And now they can add a Baron to that list of unfortunates, Zemo thinks with resignation.

He leaves the car before the embarrassment can fester in his chest.

The building is worse up close than at a distance.

Climbing the flight of concrete stairs Zemo is transported from the sidewalk and into the belly of the beast. The entrance to the megabuilding is a low-ceilinged sprawl of street-vendors and food stalls. It’s loud and busy, but Zemo has no problem blending into the crowd. He weaves through the stream of people, illuminated by neon signs that grow increasingly vulgar in their images the deeper into the building he moves.

Eventually, towards the back of the building, he finds the metal gates of an industrial-style elevator. He slides the grate open and steps inside to find the space is lit by multiple illuminated advertisement screens rotating through various commercials, each more obscene than the last. For a moment Zemo takes the moral high ground, musing with distaste about the sort of men these adverts are geared towards. He takes the moral high ground until he remembers what he has come here to do. Defeatedly he admits to himself he has no right to feel lofty.

The illuminated keypad flashes at him, and he reaches out to input his destination.

Floor 12 – CLOUDS

The elevator is slow as it climbs past the levels of cheap apartments and eventually comes to stop at level 12. As Zemo goes to open the grate again, he wonders if he’ll be greeted by some of that high-class sophistication he was promised.

He is not.

This floor is much like the entrance hall, only this time it’s a balcony that wraps around the interior of the mega-building and faces down into an open-air atrium. Zemo notices that the elevator he steps out of does not go any higher than this level, the floors above must be the luxury apartments and must have their own entrance. He begins to follow the neon signs again.

“I don’t get why you’re so hung up about this?” A man near him says to his friend. Zemo bristles at the strong American accent, but carefully allows himself to eavesdrop.

“I don’t know, man,” The friend responds “It just feels wrong, you know? Like I’ll be cheating on my girl with one of these dolls”

“But that’s just it! These girls are dolls, man. They’re not real. It’s like sleeping with a blow-up-doll. No difference”

“You know that’s not true; the difference is they’re real. They’re made of flesh.”

“That’s what makes them great though. They’re dolls made of flesh.”

Zemo moves on before he can hear anymore.

He follows the signs until he reaches a wide hallway into the building, and there at the end is the rather simple looking entrance to Clouds dollhouse. The low ceiling of the hallway allows for little decoration, but he supposes a place with such an infamous reputation needs little in terms of advertisement. Soft pink neon signs flash the name of the establishment, and beside the double glass doors a glitchy hologram of a woman dances away. As he approaches, a pre-recorded voice rings out from a speaker at the base of the hologram.

“Looks like you could use a little automatic love.”

He refuses to acknowledge the projection.

Inside clouds is arguably worse than outside. The hallway is lined with tattered posters and it smells of something cheap and artificial. When Zemo enters the small, empty reception the lady behind the desk looks up with a smile.

“Welcome to clouds, where we always know what you’re looking for.”

None of you can hear a thing from the changing room.

“Do you think he’ll fire her?”

“I’m not sure. Depends how angry the client was,”

“Shut up I’m trying to hear,”

The room falls silent as Divine presses her ear to the door.

Moments ago the dressing room had been full of the usual chatter as you and the other dolls prepared for the evening shift. There was nothing to indicate the night would be anything but normal, that was until a few minutes ago when Woodman, the caretaker of dolls, had knocked furiously at the door and demanded that Azure come to his office down the hall for an immediate meeting.

“Is it just Woodman?” you ask. Azure could be abrasive at times, but she was certainly one of you favourite colleagues and you desperately wanted her to avoid being fired by management.

“I think so. I can’t hear anyone else.” Divine says, leaning back from the door.

“She’ll be fine, I’m sure,” one of the other dolls assures the room “She’s been here the longest. If they haven’t fired her yet, I doubt they ever will.”

“True. We can’t let this ruin a good Friday night. Five minutes until we need to be out in the booths, girls” Divine announces, and promptly returns to her table to finish her makeup.

Moments before the timer goes off the dressing room door flies open, and Azure stalks back to her table in silence. She’s not upset, but you can see the frustration hidden behind a poor attempt at offhand indifference. You want to ask if she’s alright, but the aggressive way she’s searching through her desk drawer makes you think it’s better to leave her be. The other girls do the same, cautiously looking over at her but making no attempt at conversation.

When the timer rings out you take one final sip of water and head to the door, grabbing the key-card for booth three as you leave.

“Welcome to clouds, where we always know what you’re looking for.”

The pink light of the glowing reception desk illuminates her face from below. That, combined with her uncomfortably bright smile makes the receptionist look like some sort of robot from a sci-fi film. Zemo lets out an amused huff at the very ambitious welcome promise.

“With all due respect, how could you know exactly what it is I want.”

“Clouds always knows. Your deepest desire – we find it. You’ll have your needs fulfilled – and maybe much more. ‘Less’ is not a word we use around here.” The receptionist replies.

“And how is that supposed to work then,” Zemo questions with a tilt of his head.

“Our algorithm searches your social media. With your permission it will create a personal profile based on any information if can gather, including personal preferences for you partners appearance. The algorithm will then select a doll for you, and create an experience based off that information.,” She slides a form across the desk “of course we ensure this is entirely confidential, this form confirms our promise.”

“I’ll admit I’m impressed. However I do not have a social media presence I’m afraid.” Zemo responds.

He couldn’t lie, the process seemed interesting. It was obviously a successfully programmed algorithm if the establishment had such a strong reputation. He found himself for the first time tonight not entirely doubting his choice to come here. He was interested to see what they would do for his situation.

“In that case I’ll have to ask you a few general questions to select a doll for you. If you are unsatisfied with their performance, you’ll be entitled to a refund at the end of the session.”

The receptionist begins to read a series of questions from her computer screen, gender preferences, what sort of experience he’s looking for. She concludes with organising payment, and the price is eyewatering even with the slight discount she applies since they cannot use the algorithm. When all is paid and signed for, the receptionist asks for a safe word. Admittedly it throws Zemo for a minute.

“It’s company policy” she says.

“Pontiac” he says bluntly, after a moment of thought.

“Fantastic.” The receptionist enters his response to the computer “Welcome to clouds. Serenity will be waiting for you in booth three.”

Zemo passes through another set of double doors and finds himself in a labyrinth of pink lights. The walls are lined with black, opaque glass and every so often a blue neon number protrudes from the wall indicates the booth behind it.

It doesn’t take long for him to find booth three, but he pauses before pressing the button to open the door. He takes a breath, collects his thoughts and lets his head and shoulders drop. He doesn’t want to look at his reflection in the tinted glass. Five years ago the thought of coming to a place like this would never have touched his mind, even in his questionable youth he had always been opposed these places. The risk that they were run unethically was far too great for his conscience. But he was not the man he was five years ago. Since Sokovia he wondered if he had a conscience at all anymore.

He presses the button, and the glass panel slides open.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the room. It’s dimly lit, faint blue and purple lights shine against the walls that are lined with the same dark, opaque glass as outside. There’s a chic, white sofa against the left wall, and against the right is a simple bed.

Sat atop it, kneeling with her thighs spread and covered by a short black night dress is the prettiest girl he’s seen in years.

He’s handsome, is the first thing you think when the glass door slides open.

It’s rare that you ever receive a client you’re inclined to call attractive, even the most conventionally attractive men that come here bring with them such a foul soul that it taints their appearance. Not this man, though.

He’s smartly dressed in dark trousers and a well-fitting grey jumper. His hair is styled nicely, it’s either brown or very dark blond (you can’t tell in the coloured lighting). He carries himself well, but after a year of working here you’ve grown accustomed to seeing through the façade’s of your clients. He’s apprehensive. Unsure if he belongs here. Hesitant.

“You must be Helmut. It’s nice to meet you,”

You try to make your voice sound soft and gentle, cocking your head to one side to beckon him in. You get the sense he wants something authentic, or at least that’s what his profile had said when it was sent through from reception moments ago. No porn-star moans or obscene pick-up lines tonight.

He collects himself, and the harsh line his lips have been pressed into relaxes as he enters the room. The glass panel slides shut, trapping the two of you in the bubble of the booth. It’s tranquil. You think he must need that.

“And you must be ‘Serenity’” He responds, crossing the room to sit on the sofa. His eyes don’t leave you as your ‘name’ rolls of his tongue with amusement. You can hear the next question in your head before he even opens his mouth again.

“So what’s your real name?”

They always ask you that. They ask every doll that. The clients are desperate to form a connection with you. To brag to their friends that they have a special relationship with a doll at clouds. You’ve never told anyone your real name before, it’s against company policy. Clouds attracts the rich of Madripoor, and rich in Madripoor usually means dangerous. It’s for your own protection more than anything else, you really don’t need work following you home.

You picked a name the day you were hired and that’s the name every client has known you by. This man will be no different. You begin your usual response:

“A name is a name, Helmut. A title. An advertisement of who you are. I want my name to tell you exactly who I am, so that you can know everything about me. I want to bring you peace.”

He adjusts his hips and rests his arms across the back of the sofa. He regards you quietly, and you’re positive he can tell that your response was a deflection. His eyes squint slightly, and a flash of humour appears in his dark pupils.

“Well I hardly think that’s fair. You get to call me by my name, but I don’t get to know yours?” He lets out a huff of laughter “Actually, I don’t think I’ll let you use my name. We should be equals, should we not?”

You admit you’re enjoying this. The smooth accent and playful tone of his voice keeps you interested. You swing your feet around so that you’re sat facing him on the bed, reclining back on your palms to match his casual stance.

“What should I call you then?”

“You said a name is just a title. So then my title can become my name. You can call be Baron, Serenity” He says your name like it’s some sort of inside joke, taunting you to give up and tell him who you really are. You won’t be so easily swayed.

“So what’s a Baron doing in Madripoor then?” You say with genuine curiosity. If it weren’t for the NDA’s you’re forced to sign you would be buzzing to tell the other girls who you’re spending the night with. You can’t imagine that aristocracy visits this place frequently. “And do you drink?”

“I do, thank you” he says, and you hop down from the bed and walk to the low table in front of the sofa that carries a few glasses and a bottle of expensive-looking alcohol. You know he’s looking at the satin hem of the night dress as it tickles to top of your thighs, and when you bend down to pour him a glass, you make sure he gets a tasteful peak at your cleavage.

“I’m here to work, actually.”

Did aristocrats work? You thought they were just for show.

“I’m… translating some documents. It’s taking me a very long time,” He continues, watching intently as you finish preparing his drink.

“A Baron and a translator? Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate” You loop around the table, perching beside him on the sofa and handing him his drink.

“It’s more of a personal project I suppose, but a very important one” he says, accepting the drink with his free hand. The one that rests behind you on the back of the sofa comes up to rest between your shoulder blades. It’s a very gentle touch, just the tips of his fingers making contact with yours skin and moving in a tiny little circle. He’s testing the waters with you, seeing how receptive you are. It’s almost gentlemanly.

“It must mean a great deal to you. We could talk about it, if you like? We can talk about anything you want to,” You reach up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying how he melts into the action.

“Anything but your name?” He shoots you teasing look from the corner of his eye, and you give a little strand of his hair a small playful tug in response.

“Anything but that, Baron”

“Tell me something else about you. Like why you came to Madripoor, I can tell you weren’t born here.”

Jesus you can’t tell if this man is a pest or just being polite. It’s unusual for him to be asking these questions of you, most men would usually have you on your knees by now. You hum and give him one last stroke down the back of his neck, before climbing off the sofa and walking back towards the bed.

“Very perceptive. I’m not from Madripoor, no,” you crawl onto the bed, taking your time so that the baron can take a good look at where the night dress rides up over the curve of your ass “but we’ve only just met, and only my friends get to know my life story.”

You settle yourself comfortably at the top of the bed, lying down and propped up on your elbows so you can maintain the measured look he’s giving you.

“Perhaps I should come over there and get to know you better” he says calmly, with the barest hint of a suggestive undertone.

Thank god he’s dropped the topic of your true identity. You can handle sex; you don’t need an interrogation tonight. Slipping into character you drop your voice to a low whisper and cock your eyebrow.

“Perhaps you should”

The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile as he accepts your little challenge. In one fluid motion he downs the rest of his drink, places the empty glass back on the table, and rises to walk towards the bed. No, he stalks towards the bed with a natural swagger that admittedly makes your chest squeeze tight.

Within a second he’s onto you, slotting himself between your parted thighs and pressing his lips to yours. Your baron kisses well, is the only thing you’re capable of thinking as he uses his body to push you down into the cushions. One of his hands slides up your body, skimming across your neck before coming to rest below your jaw. He doesn’t squeeze, just gently holds you in place so that he can kiss you how he pleases.

After a moment he tilts your head up slightly, pausing the kiss so he can look down at you. You reckon you look a picture of arousal, pupils blown and cheeks flushes as you catch your breath. Your baron seems to agree; he’s looking at you like the cat that caught the canary, and you shiver when his grip gets just a fraction tighter on your jaw.

“So pretty,” he praises quietly as he dips down to skim his lips over your pulse.

The tender pressure makes you whine and arch up beneath him and he acknowledges you with a hum and a hand on your breast. As he continues his assault on your neck, the free hand on your chest squeezes the flesh softly, finding your nipple beneath the silky fabric and circling it with his thumb.

When it pebbles to his satisfaction he pulls away and you keen at the loss of contact. He tuts, pulling down the straps of your nightgown and peeling it down below your chest, shuffling down slightly so that his face is level with your now exposed torso.

He breathes out against your nipple before latching onto it, with one hand he squeezes your neglected breast and the other slides from its place on your jaw to the base of your neck. Again he doesn’t squeeze, just exerts a level of control that lets you know where he wants you. If you wanted to you could break free, but why would you want that? The way his thumb begins to circle your pulse point has you practically melting into the bed, the thought of telling him to stop can barely manifest in your mind.

You reach down to dig your fingers into the baron’s back, instead only making contact with his expensive-feeling jumper. You huff in disappointment and pull him from where he’s entertaining himself with your tits, meeting his hazy eyes that are riddled with confusion.

“I thought we were trying to get familiar with one another?” you ask, and his eyebrows pinch in confusion “How are we supposed to do that when you’ve got so much between us?”

The baron’s face melts in amusement, and he reluctantly pulls himself away from you to pull the jumper off and start undressing fully. You take a moment to catch your breath, watching him peel away his clothes to reveal his impressive body. He’s slender but impeccably well-toned, his torso is covered by a light dusting of hair that leads your eyes down to the impressive bulge in his underwear.

Tonight should be very entertaining.

Your sit up, reaching out to run your hand down his chest but before you can begin to pull at the waistband of his underwear, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist.

“I don’t know where you think you were going, but I was quite enjoying myself” he says roguishly. He gathers both of your wrists into one hand and pins you pack against the bed, with both hands restrained you have no choice but to let him bury hid face into your neck again.

This time he uses his free hand to skim along the inside of your thigh, getting high enough that you think he’ll reach the apex between your legs but instead he trails his fingers back down towards your knee again.

You whine in frustration as he continues his cycle of teasing up and down your leg, he ignores you until you tug against his grip on your wrists. He makes a low noise and quickly tightens his hold on you. The sudden movement sends a chill down your spine, and for the first time in a long while, you feel genuinely inclined to beg a man.

“Please-” you breathe out shakily “I want-”

Your voice cuts off suddenly as his hand moves boldly to cup your pussy. You can hear how embarrassingly wet you are as his fingers move through your folds, and he hums happily when he finds your clit with his thumb. Slowly he circles it, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you wriggling in his grip.

“This? Is this what you want?” he asks, and his voice has dropped at least another octave.

You shake your head furiously. Right now this is just not enough, you can feel his dick rubbing against your leg and you’re beyond desperate to have him fuck you open with it.

“No?” he says with feigned innocence “What is it that you want then?”

“More” is all you can get out “I want you in me. I’m wet enough, see?”

Your baron seems unconvinced. He circles a finger around your entrance before pushing in, rocking it gently inside you as he tries to decide if he thinks you’re really ready. He continues for a moment more before adding a second finger, now with two fingers stuffed in you and his thumb still working on your clit you’re almost ready to cum. It’s making you desperate, and it doesn’t help at all when he buries his face in your tits again.

Finally he lets your wrists go and immediately your hands grab at whatever part of him they can, eventually you settle with gripping his shoulder and hair as you try desperately to urge him to fuck you. He gets you right to the edge, literal moments away from finishing on his fingers when he pulls them away from you with an obscenely wet noise.

You let out a frustrated, desperate whine as he separates from you. He looks down at you with satisfaction as he takes in your flustered state.

“Stay still, you’ll get what you want” he says, and he reaches for his pants to retrieve a condom. It takes him a minute to pull himself free of his underwear and put the condom on. In your desperate state it feels like an eternity.

He positions himself between your legs, lifting the hem of the nightdress so he can get a good view of your pussy whilst he lines himself up. He pauses before he presses forward, looking up at you for any last-minute hesitation.

You nod your consent instantly, not trusting yourself to get any words out.

When he pushes in you think you might cum from that alone. He’s a perfect size, long enough that you feel as though you could feel him in your belly. When he finally bottoms out you can’t help but squeeze him tight, and he slumps over you, his face tucked into the side of your neck and swears in a language you don’t recognise. He nudges his hips forward as if to get deeper than he already is. The both of you gasp out at the sensation and he repeats it a few times, just the tiniest movements of his hips that causes him to rub against something deep inside you.

He pushes himself up on his forearms so that he can get a good look at you. In turn, you get to see the state of him as well – his eyes are impossibly dark and glazed over with something wildly lustful, his once pristine hair hangs dishevelled over his reddened forehead. Your baron’s lip curls wickedly as he sets a punishing pace, pushing you deeper into the sheets. It feels like he’s trying to fuck you through the bed.

His previous teasing had done a real number on you, and within minutes you’re moments away from cumming. You don’t think you could get much out of your mouth other than pathetic little whimpers right now, instead you reach up and pull the baron down for a deep kiss, one that he melts into fully.

When you do cum it’s fucking incredible. You’d never use a word that strong to describe a client before, but your baron brings with him many firsts for you. You cry out into his mouth as he picks up the pace to ride you through your high, your fingers dig into his shoulder so tightly you wonder if you’ve drawn blood. If you have, he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything it spurs him on as he fucks you to the point of oversensitivity.

He finishes just as you think you can’t handle anymore. His hips stutter momentarily, and tremors run down his spine in waves. The entire time he’s rambling in a foreign tongue against your skin until his pants of exhaustion overtake his ability to speak.

Your baron collapses on top of you but you hardly have the brainpower to care that he’s crushing you. Instead you reach up to run your fingers through his hair, listening to him as he catches his breath against your chest.

You yourself are struggling to even out your breathing, it feels as though you’ve run a marathon and the man on top of you seems thoroughly amused by that.

“Come now,” he says as he smooths a hand up your side “I wasn’t that good.”

You can hardly help the genuine laugh that escapes you.

“Humility doesn’t look good on you baron.”

The man in question huffs out a laugh before peeling himself away from your sweat-slicked body.

“I suppose I should make myself scarce. I imagine you have other, much more interesting clients to see tonight” he says, moving to sit on the side of the bed.

“You can stay and talk if you want, it’s entirely up to you. You paid for this, after all.” You say, secretly hoping he’ll stay for just a minute longer. You don’t intend to entertain anyone else tonight, but part of you is quite intrigued by your newest client.

“Well in that case I have one final question I’d like to ask” he says as he slowly begins to dress himself again.

“Ask away.”

Once his trousers are securely over his hips he pauses to look at you. There’s a soft expression on his face, as if he already knows he’s not going to get the answer he wants.

“What’s your real name?”

You really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s asked again. Truthfully, it’s not the question itself that’s thrown you, it’s how tempted you are to answer it. His voice is so compelling at the moment that your name nearly springs from your tongue without you noticing.

“Oh baron,” you say quietly “you know I can’t tell you that.”

His lips press together in acceptance, and for a second his eyes leave yours. As he begins to get ready again, he gives his response.

“It was worth a shot.”

#my writing #clouds #baron zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x y/n #marvel x y/n #tfatws x reader #tfatws #marvel

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Orange Lamborghini

Bakugou Katsuki

word count : 6.3k

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]

themes : lil toucha ass play, car sex, baku being a damn tease

bio : You keep telling yourself you’re done with Bakugou, but the last time is never really the last time, is it?

author’s note : i know i said i was gonna post a tamaki fic but it’s a certain violent blonde’s birthday tomorrow!! (happy 4/20 ayy) so here you go ;) … also this is a part two to my other baku fic, “fuck you i just might”, but you don’t have to read that one before this if you don’t wanna!

side note : Y/H/N is your hero name, and reader is a pro hero working at the same agency as Bakugou. ALSO he smells like caramel bc of his quirk, dont fight me on this >:(

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

“🅂taying late again?” Reo, the owner of the coffee cart stationed in the lobby of the hero agency, quizzes as he throws you an accusatory look.

You stand before him, hand awkwardly looped around your elbow and a small, bashful smile on your lips. He totally knows. But you appreciate that he never outright says anything, and you know for a fact that he would never peep even a whisper to anyone. You are probably his most loyal customer, and you’d like to think he considers you a friend after all this time— not to mention, all the coffee you’ve purchased from him.

Reo gauges your meek expression, and he only smiles as he pours the creamer into the dark brown liquid. “They must be working you hard… I’ve never seen a top hero work such long hours, staying even after everyone else has left. Well, almost everyone, that is.”

Yeah, he most certainly knows.

“What can I say?” You blabber, perhaps answering him a bit too quickly. “Work is my whole life. I don’t have time for anything else, I guess.” The sentiment is a little awkward but full of candor, and when the words leave your lips you’re surprised to hear them carry such a solemn tone.

The man nods in understanding, handing you your cup of coffee before he grabs a cookie from the glass display case and offers it to you as well. “On the house,” he states and you share a long showdown of a gaze with him before you reluctantly pluck the treat from his outreached tongs.

“Thanks Reo, you have a good night now.” Bowing slightly to the elder, you turn and take your leave, quiet steps echoing in the otherwise empty foyer.

Just as the elevator doors open to take you back up into the higher levels of the building, Reo calls out to you. “You know, you should find someone that’s just as hardworking as you. Maybe they’re closer than you think.”

Flustered by the old man’s advice, you only nod and bow again, jamming your thumb into the button. A sigh of relief escapes you as the doors conceal you from his prying eyes. That man has a sixth sense, you swear.

The elevator doors open and you briskly walk through them, along the corridor and around the corner before you finally reach the conference room. Taking a deep breath, you slip through the doorway, eyes trained on the table half-covered in paperwork. Bakugou is sitting behind the spread out files, his red eyes jumping up to regard your approaching form. Placing the cookie wrapped in napkin on the table, you nod at him as you turn and open a cabinet, fingers pinching a fresh manilla folder and shutting the door with a bump from your hip.

“Working late, huh?” His rough voice splits the silence hanging in the air, and when you turn to look at the blonde, he’s lounged back, corded bicep hung carelessly over the back of the chair and a cocky look on his face. But his eyes hold another emotion as they give you a once-over, one that makes your insides stir in both memory and apprehension.

You nod again, a coy smile gracing your lips as you take a sip of your coffee, your own gaze lingering on the muscles that poke out from the hem of his tight tank top. “You too?” You ask, even though the answer is obvious.

Bakugou’s hand twirls the pen he was previously using in rapid, effortless circles, and his knee bounces slowly underneath the table. “You gonna eat that?” He answers your question with his own, slanted eyes flicking towards the cookie resting on the tabletop just an arm’s length away from him.

“You want it?” You can’t help but be surprised— you always expected Bakugou to be an uppity-ass, no-junk-food kind of guy.

“It’s Reo’s, right?” The blonde replies gruffly, thick fingers reaching out to grab the confection. “Shit tastes like heaven.”

Your eyes widen as you connect the dots. Why, that sly little…

“Don’t work yourself too hard,” you chirp out as you turn on your heel, ready to retreat back to the safety of your office.

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes return back to your departing figure, a thin brow raised and a snarl of a smirk splitting his lips. “Aw, ‘ya worrying ‘bout me now, Princess?”

“Fuck you,” it flows from your mouth, years of foul-mouthing built up into a knee-jerk reaction. Your eyes widen as his turn to slits, that stupid smirk morphing into a gleaming grin.

“Don’t tempt me.”

A wave of heat washes over you from head to toe before settling between your legs. You don’t bother to stick around, your feet carrying you out of the conference room as Bakugou’s harsh laughter trails behind you, echoing down the hallway.

Closing the door to your office behind you, you lean your back against it as you slide toward the floor, shutting your eyes tight as the memory washes over you. He’d taken you— right there on the desk you’re supposed to be working at— and ugh, it was fucking good. Shit, he was good. Dropping the folder on the floor your fingers fly to your temple, rubbing your skull in a useless attempt to push the memory away.

Alright, if you’re being honest… that was just the first time. There were, well, a handful of times following the initial incident, much to your now chagrin. There was that time in his office on the other side of the building that had a perfect view of the ocean, which you had become very familiar with while your face was pressed up against the glass and he ravaged you from behind. There was also that time when it was around this time of night and he had thrown all your paperwork off of the conference table and taken you right there, pounding into you like no tomorrow. Yeah, there were a few times you’d found yourself naked before him, pussy gripping his thick cock as your lips clashed with his.

But last time was the last time. You can’t just keep fucking him like this, all over the agency in such scandalous secrecy… the two of you hiding this gruesomely passionate beast you co-own, feeding it only once the the coast is clear and, oh, he feeds it so well… every meal a juicy, fat steak dripping with desire and euphoria, encasing your senses in a silky smooth film as his calloused hands glide all over your— No!

You shake your head abruptly, derailing your sinful train of thought. You agreed that last time was it, fin. And… the time before that, too… and maybe the one before then as well— well, it doesn’t matter because last time was actually the last time. Pulling yourself together, you make your way toward your desk and begrudgingly begin your work.

By the time the folder is full, the clock indicates that tomorrow has begun and thus, it’s time for you to go home. Without a glance towards the conference room, you make your way toward the elevator, letting out a long sigh as the weight of the day slips from your shoulders. Jabbing your thumb into the button, you lean against the railing and check your phone out of habit. Two new messages from Jirou pique your interest, and you eagerly open the chat log to see what she’d sent.

Jiji 🎸: Girls meeting at the usual tmrw night!! Hope you can make it :)

Jiji 🎸: We all miss ya girly, you’ve been working too much lately ❤️

A part of you feels bad for misleading your friends. It’s not that you aren’t working late these days… it’s that your workload is not the only thing you’re doing when you stay after hours at the agency. Your friends had started to notice all the late nights you’d been spending at your job, and they’d begun to pout when you would bail on their bar-nights. They understood that you were working, and you hoped that they didn’t harbor any further suspicions. You had not told a single soul about your rendezvous with Bakugou Katsuki— the only person who seemed to have an inkling of your relationship, if you could call it that, was Reo.

Sliding your phone into your bag, you decide to try to make it tomorrow night. The last time had been the last time with Bakugou, so you would definitely be free tomorrow night, especially after finishing up the paperwork you had just completed minutes prior. With a wave of determination washing over you, a small smile appears on your lips as you fiddle with your staff key-card absentmindedly, wondering what you should wear when tomorrow night comes around.

When the elevator dings and opens its doors, your feet take you out of the steel chamber and into the cement confines of the parking garage. At this time of night, the only way in and out of the building is through the parking garage gate, seeing as the custodians lock up the front doors long before midnight. But you don’t mind, because the night air is fresh and cool on your face, and the subway is only a three minute walk from the garage exit. Just before you can reach out to tap your key against the automatic gate, an ear-splitting screech roars behind you and you jump, shooting straight up into the air.

Whipping around, headlights nearly blind you as they point right into your eyes. Squinting at the obnoxious light, your vision widens again when you recognize the outline of a sleek and shiny Lamborghini. An orange Lamborghini, to be precise. And a license plate with “G-ZER0” unmistakably tacked onto the front bumper, which sits almost flush against the smooth cement floor.

“Oi, Y/H/N,” a blonde head pokes out from the driver’s window, narrowed red eyes glaring at you. But his lips are curled into a smirk, clearly enjoying your frightened-animal-like reaction to the startling revv of his engine. “You’re blockin’ the way.”

Your hands indignantly turn into fists at your hips, a frown and a furrowed brow marring your expression as you turn around. Smacking the key card against the scanner you strut directly in the middle of the pavement for as long as you can before the road widens. Once the car can easily fit on either side of you, you move over to the sidewalk, arms crossed over your chest as the low car matches your pace, engine purring loudly.

The window next to you rolls down soundlessly, and the blonde leans slightly over his console to crane his face up in order to see yours. “Where are you goin’?” Bakugou inquires, and you can feel his intense gaze on the side of your face but you do not turn to acknowledge him.

“Subway.” You reply shortly, eyes trained straight ahead of you. Three minutes until you reach the subway station, exactly two corners and two blocks away.

The car roars as the angry blonde hits the pedals again, exhaust crackling with a ferocity similar to a big cat’s. The sound is deafening but you don’t waver, feet placing calmly in front of one another. “At this hour?” He pauses for a moment, long enough for you to let your guard down and chance a look at him. Which is a mistake, because goddamn he looks sexy as hell sitting in that exorbitant car, one hand thrown atop the wheel with his bicep on display, the other arm perched atop the console between the seats and those vermillion eyes blazing into you. It’s only a mere second that you give him, but he knows your resolve flutters as you look away quickly, your pace increasing to make him press on the gas just a hair harder to keep up with you.

Your breath catches in your throat when he speaks again, your heart pummeling your ribcage with vigor and a claminess lining your palms.

“Get in.”

It’s neither a question nor a statement— it’s a demand. One that has heat rising between your legs, the embers that had been so surely extinguished suddenly igniting furiously with but a scrap of sustenance. You grit your teeth and keep walking, determined not to get in the car. If you get in that car… you don’t know where you’ll end up. Or, you do know where you might end up, and that would be very bad. It takes a lot of your willpower to spit out a simple, “No thanks.”

Bakugou grumbles at your stubbornness, the vehicle screeching again as he demonstrates his displeasure and the unnecessary horsepower underneath his hood. “Come on, Y/N. Just get in,” he presses, his voice not as harsh as it was just a moment ago.

But you hold your own, flipping a stray lock of hair over your shoulder. “Aw,” you smirk, humoring him for a millisecond as your eyes flick over to him, “‘ya worrying ‘bout me now, Boom-Boy?” Your lips curl into a satisfied smirk as he visibly bristles in the corner of your eye.

“Damn it, I’m trying ‘ta— tch,” Bakugou grumbles and cuts himself off before he apparently decides he’s not going to play the familiar game of cat and mouse with you, “Fuck this.” Tires squealing on the rubble, the sleek car leaves you in the dust, sharply turning the corner ahead of you before disappearing into the night, the noise of the thundering engine echoing through the tall cityscape.

You glare at the corner ahead of you, unimpressed. He was trying to— to what, put you in a pissy mood? Hell of a job he did, if that was the case. Frown sinking into your cheeks deeper than before, you continue your way to the subway station while you pull your phone out to distract you from your miffed thoughts. Turning around the very same corner the orange sports car had rounded just a minute ago, you nearly drop your belongings when a pair of rough hands grip your biceps.

Relief washes over you for a moment when you meet Bakugou's irritated expression, before horror spreads through your limbs as he shoves you into his open passenger door. Without much of a fight you’re inside the vehicle, fruitlessly yanking the door handle only to find it’s locked shut. Sliding back into the luxurious leather seat, you scowl at the hero as he slams his door closed and snags the black seatbelt over his torso. “The fuck, Bakugou?” You hiss, attempting the door again to no avail.

“Hey, easy with that!” He growls, a thick finger flicking the pedal shifter into drive and slapping his boot against the gas. His eyes meet yours as a wicked grin lifts his lips. “Buckle up, Princess.”

Your head smacks against the back of the seat as the car lurches into a velocity that no doubt exceeds the speed-limit. Your hands scramble over your shoulder and you frantically grab the metal clip, unceremoniously shoving the belt across your lap to find its destination. Once the joint clicks into place, your eyes fly to the man beside you, pure rage boiling underneath your skin. “You asshole! I’m gonna rip your dick off!” You yell, the slightly ajar windows letting air zip into the cabin and howl in your ears, your hair flying around your face.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he quips dryly, voice deep but holding an infuriatingly potent tone of amusement.

You shut up at that, heat rising to your cheeks as you look out the window defiantly, away from him. Your eyes trail over the interior of the car, curiosity winning you over as you your fingers trace the smooth features lining the inside of the door. There’s a soft underlighting beneath the seats, glowing an acidic green to compliment the orange of the exterior in a display that screams man with an enormous ego. You roll your eyes, adjusting your legs to point away from him as much as possible.

“I didn’t know you had a Lamborghini. This how you get into your slutty fangirls’ pants? Take ‘em for a ride in the Baku-bile?” You ask, shooting daggers into his sharp jawline. The premise of him fucking faceless girls in the very seat you’re in makes you want to throw up in disgust.

Bakugou snorts at the name, scarlet eyes snapping toward you before settling back on the road. “Don’t need to show ‘em my car to take ‘em for a ride,” he answers snidely, a sharp canine gleaming at you from his smirk.

You don’t acknowledge his reply, one arm crossed over your chest and the other gripping the side of the door harshly as the city flies by outside the windows. You wonder where he’s taking you, because he never asked for your address, but you sure as hell aren’t going to start up a conversation again with that dickwad, so you just simmer in your displeasure instead.

The ride is surprisingly smooth and you would never admit it, but the feeling of him stepping on the acceleration makes your heart thud, adrenaline coursing through your veins and washing over you. You try your best to hide your excitement with every boost of speed, but you don’t catch Bakugou’s eyes lingering on your tiny smile every time he accelerates. You almost whine when the car slows and you pull into an empty parking lot, apprehension settling in your chest as the engine cuts and you’re left in silence, with him. A public park stretches before the lot, empty swings and monkey-bars twirling leisurely in the wind.

He doesn’t say a word, so after an incredibly long and awkward minute you break the ice. “Bakugou… what are we doing here?” You turn to him expectantly, lips melting back into a frown as you give him a once-over. He’s still in that tank top, which you curse for being a part of his hero costume. Why the hell did he have to choose something so flattering?

The blonde casts a side glance at you, leaning back slightly in his seat. “Wanted to have a chat with ‘ya,” he says, turning to look at you fully. The car seems like it is not big enough, for he’s only a short distance away from you and looking handsome as ever. The park before the windshield is illuminated by only the moon and starlight, casting a soft glow onto his smooth skin. The stubble on his jaw scatters tiny shadows across his chin, and those scarlet eyes peer into yours deeply. The moment is full of unrestrained tension, until he speaks again. “Coulda done this in the garage but your stubborn ass wouldn’t gimme the time of day,” he grumbles, effectively releasing you from his trance.

You blink and look away before returning your attention to him, a sour expression on your face. “Okay, dipshit, what did you wanna talk about?” You huff, arms crossing over your chest defensively. So you might have gotten yourself into this, but only a tiny bit.

You’re left hanging, expectantly eyeing him with a measured gaze. His eyes are locked with yours, but his mouth doesn’t move, not a semblance of a word on his lips. You give him that ‘eyes widening and head jutting forward, I’m waiting for you to talk’ look, but still he’s quiet. Tossing your hair over your shoulder impatiently, you let out a frustrated sigh as you close your eyes. “Look,” you start, turning back to him ready to flame his ass, “I don’t—”

Bakugou’s lips are on yours, his hands clutching your jaw and pushing your mouth into his while he leans forward over the console between the seats. A moan tears from your lungs, the familiar scent of caramel crashing over you as he fills up your senses, fingertips weaving into the hair behind your ears. His tongue thrusts into your mouth, greeting yours like a lover desperate to hold his beloved, caressing and rolling and dancing.

Suddenly your hands are on him, one around his back and pressing him toward you while the other threads through his silky soft tresses. A groan rumbles out of him as you pull against his scalp, one of his hands slipping down the back of your head to hold where your neck meets your shoulders, squeezing the sides of your throat gently. An embarrassing mewl floats out of you at that, a string of saliva connecting your mouths as you both gasp for breath.

His red eyes twinkle at you mockingly, a sultry snarl on his lips. But Bakugou doesn’t dare say a word, instead claiming your lips again with his own, sucking in your bottom lip and biting gently with his pointy canines. The hand on your neck remains strong, while his other hand slithers down your chest, groping your breast with enthusiasm and his thumb roving over your already-hard nipple, which he can feel through the fabric of your skin-tight hero costume and bra. He moans at the discovery, fingers eagerly flying to your side and unraveling the zipper there, watching as the skin of your exposed chest becomes illuminated in a mixture of moonlight and the green glow emanating from beneath the seats. Tugging the wire to rest atop your tits, he nearly growls at the sight of them, diving face-first toward you and wrapping his mouth around a nipple. You buck into him, falling back uncomfortably onto the door, but he just crawls onto his seat and leans further into you, red eyes darting up to catch your wanton expression.

Desperately gripping at the shreds of your sanity, a tiny part of you screams out at the wrongness of the situation. “We shouldn't… fuck, Bakug— ohhh,” you whimper as he nibbles at you, your heart rate skyrocketing in desire as you close your eyes, trapping your trembling lip between your teeth. The rationale is pushed away, the only thing you can pay attention to being the way Bakugou’s mouth feels latched onto you, and the hand traveling down your torso to tease between your legs. His rough fingers prod at your cunt through your leotard, expertly locating your clit through the cloth and focusing extra attention there. Simmering tendrils of heat burst through you and you cry out, legs weakly drawing his wide frame closer to you.

After a moment Bakugou sits back in his seat, pulling you with him. It’s a little rocky, not a perfect transition, but you make your way to sit on his lap nonetheless. His large hands palm your tits roughly, pinching your nipples as his tongue wrestles with yours, your moans leaking into his mouth. His body jerks in surprise as your hips begin to roll against his, and you can feel just how bad he wants this too, rubbing into you against your thigh. It only makes him touch you harder, leaning down slightly and becoming lost in the heated kiss. A hand trails down your waist to grab a handful of your ass, cupping the flesh before he slaps it harshly, then holding it in his palm again as his fingers dig into your skin. He drinks up every noise you release, like a starved man receiving his first meal in forever. He pulls away to kiss down your neck, tongue licking a stripe down your throat before his warm mouth lands on your skin, nipping and lathering and sucking.

“This is,” you gasp, coming up for air and that scrap of sanity surfacing in your mind again, “We shouldn’t be doing this, we— we said that last time was the, ahuh-ahh, last… last time.”

Bakugou sucks harder against your neck, his hands on either ass cheek and pulling your bottom against him. The friction of his cock against your core, even with your clothes separating you, makes your head spin and your voice die out. “You want me to stop, hah?” He grumbles against your throat, slick with his saliva. He rolls your hips against his particularly hard, and your hand reaches out to latch onto his shoulder as your pussy twinges in your panties.

You cannot reply, only a high-pitched whimper tumbles out of you because suddenly he’s pushing aside your leotard and panties, digits dipping into your humiliatingly wet entrance. His fingers easily glide up and down your slit, thumb flicking cruelly against your clit as you double over, nails breaching the skin on his shoulders.

“Doesn’t seem like you know what you want,” he comments, voice gravelly and timbre. His other hand rests on your hip, keeping you from grinding against him. He’s looking up at you, eyes darkened with lust and that haughty grin splitting his lips.

You glare at him, eyebrow twitching at his torment, mouth wavering as his fingers continue to tease along your sopping folds. After being with him so many times, you know what he’s waiting for, but you’re absolutely torn; a moth drawn to the flame yet wary of being burnt. “Please, Bakugou,” you murmur, eyes begging him to give you more.

Bakugou’s brow quirks upright, a single knuckle pushing into you and rubbing against your velvet walls. “Please, what, Princess?” He drawls out, almost purring at having you in his favorite position. That being, you, desperate for his touch.

You groan, throwing your head back as another knuckle slides inside, two wide fingertips stretching your cunt so infuriatingly shallowly. You try to move your hips but his grip is iron on your waist, and a long whine falls out of your mouth. “Just— Pleaseee Katsuki,” you beg, not wanting to say the words he truly wants, but not giving him nothing as his name leaves your lips so seductively.

His nostrils flare as he exhales, shifting underneath you as you feel his cock twitch against your leg. “I thought you wanted me to stop?” He growls, tone low enough you can feel his words shake his lungs. They shake something within you, too.

“No,” you breathe out, placing your lips softly against his before pulling away, your eyes boring into his, “I want this, I want you so bad.”

Bakugou groans as he drives his fingers into you knuckle-deep, curling his fingertips and rubbing against your insides. You moan like a whore at the sensation, his thumb still working on your clit clumsily as he pumps his fingers into you. His lips capture yours again, the hand on your hip jumping up to grab onto your neck again and push your lips harder onto his.

A searing heat ebbs through your body as his digits dutifully work within you, and you can’t help but begin to drop your hips against his hand, grinding onto his fingers without restraint. Bakugou clearly appreciates that, a loud moan ripping out of his lungs at the novelty and his fingers press harder into you, colliding into that spongy spot deep inside. You sob at the intensity, pleasure wracking through you as the angle only makes it easier for him to hit that spot— again, and again, and again— until white shapes flash before your eyes and you’re clutching onto him, screaming out as ecstasy thrums through your entire being.

After a minute of your pussy fluttering around him, Bakugou’s fingers pull out of you, and you finally open your eyes to see him looking at you like you’re the hottest person on the planet. “Fuck,” he snarls, lip twitching as he lifts his hips, tugging down his black pants and briefs half-way down his thighs. His heavy cock smacks against his abdomen, looking pale and pretty in the low lighting, glistening with a bead of pre rolling down the side of his length.

You lick your lips at the sight, the desire to shove him into your mouth overcoming you. Bakugou catches your reaction, a low chuckle reverberating his chest and making you glance at him. “I wanna suck you off,” you say quietly, looking over to the passenger seat and wondering if you could do it from that position, because you certainly can’t do it from where you are now.

“Thas’kay Princess,” he mumbles, grabbing your chin and forcing your lips to meet his once again. His tongue glides over your lip slowly, his other hand smacking your ass roughly before he grabs the inside of your thigh, spreading you above him. “That can wait. Need you right now.”

His words send a different kind of shiver down your spine— the kind that was the whole reason why you’d told yourself you needed to stop fucking him in the first place. But right now, in this moment, there is no way you’re not going to fuck him. You’d already come this far, you might as well just indulge yourself in him.

So you do, and you both let out a breath of satisfaction as you rub your dripping cunt against the underside of his length. You lather him up, slickening his member in your arousal from back to front before you press your lips onto his, soft but passionate, and you welcome him inside with ease.

Bakugou’s head falls back onto the headrest as his hands lay slack on your hips. He’s reclined, but his red eyes jump between your face, your tits, and your cunt that sucks him up so greedily as you begin to bounce above him. His mouth hangs open slightly as you find your rhythm, your hands ripping up the bottom of his tank top to lay your palms on his chest and his abs, a thumb scratching through his kept and dark happy trail. “Hah— fuck, Y/NNN,” he moans, closing his eyes to succumb to the pleasure for a moment before he forces them back open, refusing to miss out on such a dreamy sight. Memorizing your body, willing himself to remember each moan and blissful expression you give, storing it away so he can burn them into his spank bank.

Once he’s had his fill of the wondrous sight, he sits up, mouth sucking in your nipple as his hands still your hips, grabbing the flesh there and wiggling to adjust himself underneath you. Ecstasy shoots through you as he takes the lead, thrusting up harshly to prod deep inside your womb, stretching you out and rubbing so deliciously against your g-spot. “Oh, god, Katsuki,” you wheeze as he just goes faster, thick and muscular thighs providing enough means to continue like this for who knows how long. Just as you begin to feel your orgasm build once again, his pace slows, and you’re about to complain before a long finger is thrust into your mouth.

Bakugou groans as your tongue coats the digit in spit, not needing instruction. “You gonna be a good girl for me, Princess?” He questions before he takes the finger out.

Your arms fold around his neck as you nod and kiss him again, drunk on his lips and his touch. He welcomes the tender moment, a hand planting on your ass and spreading you again before his wet finger meets your asshole, making you jump into him with wide eyes. “Ka—”

His lips pull you back in, silencing your hesitance as he begins to thrust his cock up into you again, pace measured and slow. The roll of his hips provides a new type of pleasure as his cock drags against your inner walls, your clit rolling on his pelvis. You quiver on top of him, hole puckering as his finger rubs around your rim. You whimper when he pushes inside, the small stretch foreign and stinging. But he doesn’t push it any further, just continues to lazily grind up inside of you, his tongue playing with yours. He only breaks away to whisper praise to you that makes your pussy shiver around him, “Good girl, you’re sucha good girl Y/N.”

Before long the digit is up to the second knuckle, and you’re a moaning mess above him. The feeling of his finger in your ass, with his cock stretching and pushing in and out of you— it has your eyes crossing in pleasure. The thin wall separating his cock and his finger continues to rub exquisitely on both sides, sending waves of fuzzy bliss coursing through your limbs.

The extra penetration seems to also be affecting Bakugou, for his thrusts begin to pick up as he starts slapping up into you with renewed ferocity. The stimulation from your pussy and your clit already have you clenching, but then he starts to push his finger in and out of your ass slowly, and you’re holding onto him for dear life, your head on his shoulder as you mewl into his neck. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and so can Bakugou, who nuzzles your face a bit before he kisses you again. Your lips dance sloppily, your body jostling as he pounds into you from below, and you begin to whimper as your cunt tightens around his cock.

“Still want me to stop?” He hisses, rough palm clapping across your ass cheek.

“Fuck no,” you pant, planting your knees on the seat beside his thighs and bucking up and down in tune with his pace.

Bakugou groans at your initiative, knuckle sliding deeper inside of you and gauging your reaction as your shudder against him in pleasure. “You like a finger in the ass, hah? Fucking slut,” he snarls as he rubs the digit inside of you, eliciting a low moan from the depths of your lungs.

You’re bouncing on his lap as best as you can, your head skimming the top of the car’s interior while you claw at his shoulders. “God, Katsuki, mphhh—” The added pressure of you sinking down as he ruts up is almost enough for you to cum, and Bakugou knows exactly how close to the finish line you are, grabbing your jaw and tugging your face to hang directly in front of his.

You brow furrows and your heartbeat hastens at the intimacy, passion crackling between the pair of you as his vermillion orbs burn into you. You don’t want to let him see such a vulnerable part of you, but he starts to slam into that spot deep inside of you mercilessly, determined to show you how good he can make you feel. Your orgasm tears through you and an overwhelming heat blasts into your body like wildfire through dry grass. A broken shriek releases from you as your eyes slam shut, limbs shaking, nails diving into his traps, and toes curling in your shoes.

Bakugou gasps as you constrict around him, moving his hands to clasp onto your hips tightly, throwing your body down to meet his as he pistons into you. Skull falling backwards limply, your tongue lolls out like a bitch in heat, his actions dragging out your mind-numbing climax delightfully long. He launches at the exposed skin of your neck, teeth sinking into your throat hard enough to leave dark bruises there, moaning shamelessly into your flesh as his thrusts become quicker, needier. “S-Shit, where should I— ‘m gonna—”

Your fingers rush to his hair, snapping his head backwards and his eyes widen in surprise, but you smother his open mouth with yours immediately, your tongue plunging into his wet cavern and claiming him as your own. Your hips hurl onto his with finality and the blonde stiffens beneath you, trembling fingers pressing into your skin. A loud groan rattles both of your bodies as his load spills into you, coating your womb in his sticky release as you continue to drop onto his searing cock slowly. When he comes down from his high he squeezes your waist gently to signal you to stop, sitting back with his jaw hung open slightly, laboured and choppy breaths making his sculpted chest rise and fall sharply.

You let him pull you into his embrace, his large biceps caging you against his chest as he tries to catch his breath. It’s peaceful laying in his arms, the post-orgasm bliss thriving and filling the entire cabin of the vehicle in a hot and sweet scent. Or maybe that was just Bakugou— you subtly sniff his skin and smile, the caramel-like aroma from his exertion wafting off of him. He’s warm, and somehow even though his muscles are rock-hard beneath you, his embrace is soft. You nuzzle into his neck as his fingers glide over your moist back, arms locked around your waist.

Neither of you say a word, two heartbeats thumping rapidly against each other as you enjoy each other’s presence. The both of you desperately cling to this moment of serenity, knowing that soon enough you’ll have to go back to normal, and this will have just been another “last time.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

no one asked for this but i did it anyway 🤪🤪 happy birthday blasty 💥💚🧡

➥ masterlist

#mhmm ive been thinking about this for awhile #hope it was alright!! i know nothing about cars nor car sex LMAO #especially not lamborghinis lol #bakugou fic #bakugo fic #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugo katsuki fic #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #mha smut #bnha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my fics #my fics katsuki

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wolf-and-bard · 3 years

Text

The Geraskier dark academia AU of my dreams (because writing these up keeps me sane; TLDR at the bottom because this escalated):

-Jaskier is so ready for college. Like, the readiest he's ever been for anything in his life. He couldn't wait to get out of his stuffy family home, away from his narrow-minded hometown, he is ready. He signs up for a Liberal Arts major, moves into a dorm, drinks his brains away during the first week. He makes an archnemesis, he makes friends, he live-documents the whole affair on Snapchat for his friend Triss who lives across the country, but is always with him in spirit. Life is good.

-Jaskier doesn't think twice when his roommate Zoltan invites him to come along to a party at the Kaer Morhen fraternity house because hello? Orientation week was last month, high time he goes to an actual frat party full of guys like wardrobes that eminate sexual self-assuredness and hopefully some sexual flexibility as well. He puts on his most revealing shirt and too tight jeans and joins Zoltan. The fraternity house is old, red-brick with sandstone pillars and iron-wrought gates which would seem rusty if not for the ivy that curls around them. It's chock-full with people of every kind of major and age, most of them drunk beyond reason by the time Jaskier and Zoltan arrive. Zoltan disappears in a tangle of rugby-players and leaves Jaskier to his own devices. He befriends a group of Archeology majors, their leader being a cute blond called Filavandrel, and they share a bottle of red wine, round and round. He meets his archnemesis, the one he spent all orientation week bickering about music with, Valdo or some nonsense, and they do tequila shots. It’s a nice party and Jaskier has the time of his life until he returns from the bathroom to find a god of a guy standing in the hallway.

-"Oh hello," Jaskier mutters under his breath. Before, his evening was aimless, he let the wave of the vibe take him wherever, let the alcohol blur the world around him. But now, he has an objective. And that objective stands all by his lonesome, scowling down the hallway. Man, does he brood well. Jaskier usually goes for people that are easy to read if some casual fun is what he has in mind -and it's not out of his mind just yet - but this guy intrigues him; there is more to him than simple dudebro-ness. He has shock-grey hair and startling amber eyes and seems to cast the longest shadow. Jaskier wants to ride him. Jaskier also wants to serenade him on a starlit wooden bridge and collect all the guy's deepest secrets and desires to keep under his pillow and draw divine inspiration from. Okay, that may be the Tequila shots talking. He scurries over to the bar, downs another two, then approaches the guy.

-"Hi," Jaskier says as he sidles up to him. The guy half-heartedly raises his beer in greeting. Taciturn, dark, dramatic. Jaskier decides to go for it. "I absolutely adore the way you just stand here and brood." (Jaskier will only learn much much later that he accidentally used some weird Kaer Morhen frat code and set off a chain of events that changed his life forever). "Lamb," the guy calls out instead of answering, something that makes Jaskier think he's so far gone that he's actively hallucinating. But no, seconds later a guy with equally lush red hair and equally thick arms appears from the crowd. He wears a scowl which has Jaskier's throat tighten. "What is it, Wolf?" Wolf, huh? "Go collect Goat and Kitty-Cat. I found him." And Wolf-Guy grabs Jaskier by the back of the neck and hauls him through a door, down some stairs - is that marble? are those torches? GARGOYLES? - and into pitch blackness. Jaskier squeals. This is what he imagined when he dreamt of college. Well not exactly this, but close enough.

-They bind him with silk scarfs and put a blindfold over his eyes which, okay. Jaskier knows he shouldn't find this as sexy as he does, but he can't help it. He has no sense of self-preservation and this will just be the best of fuel for the first assignment in his screenwriting class. "Oh, this is fun," he murmurs when someone tugs off his boots and someone else smears a fatty paste onto his lips. It smells like... okay it smells lot like his uncle Matthew's pigsty. Weirdly disgusting. "Who are you guys anyway?"

-They don't speak at all that night, don't take off the blind-fold until way later. All night, Jaskier can hear them rustling around him, chanting in some language he doesn't understand. They give him several drinks, most of which honestly taste like asphalt, but make his insides go fuzzy. When the blindfold comes off eventually, Jaskier finds himself on the front-seat of a pick up truck, Wolf guy behind the wheel. They are parked behind the frat house. "Look, I don't think you're a suitable candidate. The guys all said they want to keep you, but my friend recognized you from the freshman introduction party and we usually only inaugurate sophomores." Jaskier blinks. He has absolutely no idea what's going in anymore. His friend Triss is probably worried sick because he hasn't checked in all evening. The faint taste of burned rubber clings to his lips and all Jaskier can think is: Fuck, is this man hot. "Go out with me," he blurts. "Go out with me, I'll show you how suitable I am."

-Over the course of a month's worth of introductions, preparation and inauguration traditions (which, among other things, have him dropped butt-naked in the middle of the forest, requiring him to find his way back to campus; have him spend more time learning long-dead languages than he is comfortbale with; have him getting thoroughly intimate with Eskel's (Goat) helper syndrome, Lambert (Lamb) and Aiden's (Kitty-Cat) ostentatiously loud fucking, Coen's (Hawk) frequent absences and Geralt's (Wolf) quiet, but passionate idealism) Jaskier learns the truth at the core of Kaer Morhen. It is more than a fraternity, it is a brotherhood of students that spend their free time in rituals to protect the college, its city, likely even the whole state from supernatural creatures that threaten to cross over into the world. The existence of these is no surprise to Jaskier who's come out of an adolescence of escapism and coping through fiction and song, but the fact that there are handsome tough guys who work to banish him is too much of a dream to be true. It is true. Unofficially, the call themselves Witchers. They catch wraiths in cricles of runes, they re-direct necrophages into Kaer Morhen's basement and slay them with blades of silver. They brew potions and cast minor spells to get rid of mutated insectoids. And Jaskier is to be one of them. They call him Lark.

-His first ritual goes bat-shit wrong. Jaskier is reasonably sure he did everything right, but the wraith doesn't stay contained after they bound it . "Fuck," Geralt growns after, pressing a cloth to the gaping wound in Jaskier's shoulder while they wait for Eskel to whip out the first aid kit. Jaskier shudders, can taste blood. "There shouldn't be fireflies here, right?" - "Ah, nope," Lambert says. He keeps snapping his fingers before Jaskier's eyes. "Hey, Lark, stay with us, okay?" - "He's fine," Aiden says, inspecting his nails. "If anything, it's Geralt we should be worried about. He's about to have a full blown panic attack." Geralt grunts and holds Jaskier closer.

-"Does this mean I can ask Priscilla to let me copy her homework," Jaskier asks later. He's in bed, bundled up in one of Kaer Morhen's bedrooms. Portraits of alumni line the wall and a hearth crackles away. Geralt sits next to the bed, a pretense-book on his lap. His eyes bore into Jaskier, wide, haunted. "Jask," he breathes out shakily. - "Hello, big guy. How are we doing?" - "Better now that you're awake. We... we had to call in Vesemir. He will want to talk to you." - "Alright, okay," Jaskier says. He knows who Vesemir is of course, but he has no idea what exactly his job entails or what having to talk to him means. "Geralt?" - "Hmm?" - "What did I do wrong?" - "Nothing. You were uncharacteristically precise... but it turns out I was right all along. You're not suited for this kind of work." - "Because I'm not big and buff like all of you?" Jaskier asks, pouting. Geralt has the audacity to laugh. But he also takes Jaskier's hands and kisses his knuckles and huh? What? Jaskier's brain short-circuits. Fuck when did he fall so hard for Geralt? "No, Jask, you're perfect. I mean, uh, ah, perfectly annoying." That bastard. "The wraith went crazy because it turns out you're an amplifier. That means supernatural creatures are pulled to you and can draw from you to manifest easier in our world. You wouldn't have noticed this unless you ever passed by a spot where the spheres overlap significantly. As it is, your participation in the ritual poses a danger." - "TLDR: I'm fired?" - "That's for Vesemir to decide... truth be told, I don't want you to go. But I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. Because of me, this." - "Go out with me, Geralt. Please. One coffee," Jaskier practically begs. Yes, his shoulder is minced meat and he feels exhausted from the blood loss but Geralt has never been this open and honest with him. "...fine."

-Jaskier heals up under the diligent care of his friends. Priscilla is allowed over too, practically drags him though his classes with tutoring and copies of her homework and sugar-coated emails to his various professors. Triss video-calls him three times a day. Eskel's med school expertise leaves Jaskier with the most neat scar he is ever going to get out of this, Lambert and Aiden hang out to play Gwent with him, a strange card game they invented and custom-painted, Coën even pops in to bring Jaskier his guitar and a venti Matcha Tea Latte even though the nearest Starbucks is miles away. Geralt... Geralt is there almost all the way. He sleeps in the chair at first, then - on Jaskier's stern insistence - in the bed with him, though careful to keep his distance. He helps Jaskier into the shower, something so strangely intimate without feeling innately sexual, he takes him out on slow walks. Geralt doesn't talk much, but Jaskier knows he feels responsible. It's fine. Sure. Absolutely fine. Jaskier is so far gone for this man by the time he moves back into his own dorm that he considers getting injured again just to have Geralt by his side. They never do go out for coffee.

-Vesemir doesn't so much invite Jaskier as have him called out of his choir session by a girl about Jaskier's age. She has the same hair color as Geralt and Jaskier thinks he's seen her around Kaer Morhen's bigger parties. "Hello, Jaskier," she says sweetly, but one look at her tells Jaskier she's deadlier than any of the frat boys. If his drunk memory serves correctly she also does a phenomenal keg stand. "Ves sends me to collect you." Which has Jaskier even more impressed with her. None of the boys dare to call him anything but Vesemir or Sir, even when he's not around. - "I've been expecting this," Jaskier says, shouldering his bag. The girl laughs and grabs his arm to guide him out of the building and across campus. - "You are cute," she says. "Geralt said so, but I thought that was just because he's so infatuated with you. I'm Ciri, by the way, his younger sister." Infatuated, huh? Jaskier has just enough brainspace left to save her name. Ciri. They will have to become very good friends. Infatuated.

-It turns out, Vesemir isn't half as scary as the boys made him out to be. He's closer to sixty than fifty, has a stern face, but a kindly voice and the first thing he does after dismissing Ciri with a meaningful glance is offer Jaskier a glass of whiskey. Jaskier sneaks a photograph of the bottle's label when Vesemir stands at the window and glances down at the campus, hands clasped behind his back. Triss will never believe this. It's the sort of alcohol that exists only in myth, at least to college students. "So, Mr. Pankratz. I'm afraid apologies are in order." - "Please, I prefer Jaskier." - "I know," Vesemir says and turns. "I would kindly ask you to delete that picture, my office and its contents fall under the terms of the non-disclosure agreement you signed when entering our brotherhood." Jaskier gulps heavily, the whiskey suddenly sour on his tongue. But he's quick to paste over a smile. He's gotten this far with the mysterious Kaer Morhen fraternity, he can pull all the way through. He deletes the picture. "Good," Vesemir says. "Now down to business." Vesemir gives him two options. Jaskier can consult a local magical artisan and have his memories of Kaer Morhen's true purpose removed. It is an easy procedure, won't cost him anything. Except for his new-found friends and the love he feels for Geralt. Except for the only place he's ever truly felt at home. Jaskier chooses the latter option which is to become the fraternity's chronicler.

-After that, things are supposed to calm down and they do, for a bit. Geralt still dodges any and all attempts Jaskier makes at flirting even though it's evident his resolve is thinning out. Jaskier observes and documents the rituals, begins to collect old notebooks. He's planning to go above and beyond his job and compile a comprehensive history of Kaer Morhen and its members before he's graduated. He may not be able to partake in the rituals or help the guys protect this city from monsters, but he can play his part. Leave behind a legacy.

-Between that and his normal studies, hanging out with his theater group, meeting Triss on alternate weekends and throwing epic frat parties, all of Jaskier's time is consumed. There are several instances in which Geralt and him almost manage to have their coffee, but then they have Eskel on the phone because Lambert and Aiden managed to give themselves poisoning over a simple Endrega job, or Priscilla needs an emergency stand-in for her weekly performances at a local bar, or Jaskier is simply too tired and falls into bed, sleeping over Zoltan's aggressive snoring. Jaskier doesn't mind so much. They catch glimpses of intimacy, Geralt's hand on the small of his back as he guides him downstairs for another ritual, a good night kiss on the cheeks once it's done, a spot of quiet homework-doing in Kaer Morhen's common room together, their legs pressed close under the table. One of these days, Jaskier will find the courage to close the last bridge between them. He just wants to wait until Geralt seems absolutely comfortable with it.

-All is as well as can be until Vesemir comes up with an idea. Because more and more creatures have been getting through and they are unable to hold off all, he wants to capture one of them, an Archgriffin, to bind in their world and act as guardian against lesser creatures. "You're mad," Aiden says. "That's fucking brilliant." - "It's a good idea," Eskel and Coën agree. Lambert keeps exchanging grim glances with Geralt because they both know what this means. They will have to use Jaskier to lure the beast. Which is why they both protest the idea heavily and Geralt gets into a fight with Vesemir. Jaskier is not there for it, but Aiden and Lambert tell him later, once he's back from theatre rehearsal. He watches them fight over it too and then it's only him and Lambert. Jaskier steals one of Zoltan's bottles of spirits and they get stupidly drunk, wandering around campus all night until Eskel collects them and tucks them into bed at Kaer Morhen. "I will not stand to lose you," Lambert slurs, arm dragged over Jaskier's chest. "You're like, almost my best friend. Plus, Wolf would be devastated." - "Aiden seems to think it'll be fine," Jaskier says, snuggling up to Lambert. - "Yeah, fuck him." They fall asleep like that and the first thing Geralt does when he finds them is kick Lambert all the way down the stairs.

-In the end, Geralt and Lambert are outvoted, not that they can stop Vesemir. Geralt is more silent than usual throughout prep and Jaskier can't seem to cheer him up. He knows his life is likely on the line, but he wants to help so badly. These guys are his family after all. If he can make their lives a little easier by doing this... well, he wants to. He needs to. Being in Kaer Morhen is the first time he seems to have a purpose other than writing angsty teenage songs. Eskel keeps checking up on him. Vesemir writes preliminary excuses for all Jaskier's exams which leave him with only A's, something Priscilla does not appreciate in the slightest. Lambert and Aiden fight and fight and won't stop fighting over this whole affair until Jaskier sits them down and makes them talk. Geralt... remains quiet. Jaskier can tell he doesn't sleep. Can tell he rarely eats. He decides now is as good a time as ever.

-It's the night before and the others have all returned to their dorms, but Jaskier stayed in Kaer Morhen under the pretext of Zoltan having his girlfriend over, and Geralt rarely ever goes home. He has a flat off campus, but Jaskier suspects it's drab and lonely. He gets it. Kaer Morhen has soft fluffly beds and fire places and wards and books. Currently, it has the two of them, bundled up in one of the upstairs rooms. They share an armchair before a low fire, not an unusual sight for them, not anymore. And still, Geralt pretends they're just friends. It's ridiculous. "You know I'll be fine, right?" Jaskier says. He has his head tucked under Geralt's chin and has been humming show tunes under his breath for the last half hour, something that usually puts Geralt right to sleep. Not so now. "I can't know that," Geralt replies. He lifts Jaskier's hand which he's been holding and traces the veins on the back of it with his thumb. "You've no idea how dangerous the ritual is. Even more so with you being an amplifier." - "So protect me." - "I will. I promise, I will." - "Geralt, when are you going to finally give in?" Jaskier sighs and pulls back a little. Geralt stares at him, a little cross-eyed and Jaskier gives a shaky laugh. "I'm going to kiss you now. Pull back if you don't want to, but allow it and I'll never let you go." Geralt allows it, kisses back. It's the first night they indulge in a love that has been growing for almost a year and it's gloriously sweet, blazing, beautiful. It leaves Jaskier with faith that, even if things go sideways, Geralt will get them both out of it alive.

-The ritual goes well thanks to the Witchers' meticulous preparations, the dozen or so warding spells they put on Jaskier and Geralt's reflexes that save him from a swipe of the Griffin's claw. They bind the creature to one of the basement holding cells and celebrate with excessive amoutns of vodka and cake. "All is well that ends well, huh?" Jaskier asks from where he sits on Geralt's lap. Strong arms hold him and his chest is full of nightingales that flutter and sing. He watches Eskel drunkenly dance-offing with Coen in a corner, watches Lambert and Aiden make out in another. Vesemir took off, but Ciri is there, lounging next to them on the couch, nose buried in her phone. "I will never put you through such danger again," Geralt grunts, his nose buried in Jaskier's hair. "Of course, love." Jaskier relaxes into the embrace. All is well, though it is not nearly the end of this story.

-TLDR: Kaer Morhen is an occultist fraternity that keeps supernatural beings away from campus. Jaskier, unable to participate in the actual rituals due to a genetic predisposition, becomes their chronicler. Geralt worries a lot. Jaskier tries for the longest time to get him to go on a coffee date or something. Lambert and Aiden are a disaster couple. Eskel keeps them all together, literally and figuratively. Ciri is the one who got all the brain cells.

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