#has the same positive reputation but has a hidden dark side | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skzdarlings · 4 months

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omg that sounds so fun!!!! (Sorry if this was quick I have your post notifs on) imma jump on this early!!! can we get “do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” W changbin? 😩😩😩

summary: you are in love with the son of your family's greatest enemy. he sneaks into your room one night after a party.

pairing: seo changbin/reader content info: petite!reader. mentions of past body insecurities. romeo-and-juliet style love affair. sneaking around. gun play that is somehow more romantic than kinky but still kinda kinky. explicit sexual content. word count: 2900 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

You catch his eye across the room.

There are a hundred people between you, bustling in their designer gowns and glittering in their jewels. The hotel ballroom is an incandescent chamber of silver light. The sun has long since set but the party plays on in its excessive splendour, never tiring of itself.

You are tired of it. The glamour of this lifestyle has turned more tedious than not. At the centre of all this majesty is money, and everyone in this room prioritizes their wealth and capital above everything else. They have fought and slandered and killed each other and they will do it all again, but they throw their galas nonetheless. Places to celebrate themselves and their so-called achievements, to flaunt their successes in self-congratulation. Everyone laughs and dances, spinning around the ballroom, sipping their champagne.

You smile and demur, pretending you are having a good time. You sit with your family and only interact with their trusted allies or those who would be.

He is vehemently not included in that.

Seo Changbin.

He is across the room with his family, your family’s greatest enemy. Your father and his father are titans of business and the family rivalry spans generations. It started with your great-grandparents and you are destined to uphold it. You will marry an appropriate man of standing, someone who will expand the empire, someone whose allyship is worthwhile in both the monetary and social strata. You will have children and raise them to take your place, to inherit your name and all the blood and money that comes with it.

Those same expectations are on your enemy. You hold gazes across the sparkling sea of people. You look away first.

You are coerced onto the dance floor by one of your father’s chosen men. You join that sparkling sea. It is always bizarre to brush elbows with these people, knowing very well they would not hesitate to put a bullet in your head under any other circumstance. You catch the sight of a few discreet weapons as you are twirled around the dance floor. Ostensibly, weapons are not allowed inside the gala as fighting is prohibited, but these people always take their precautions.

Your dance partner spins you. You twirl as per the dance, then stumble to a halt because Changbin is standing there. He is dancing with someone too, has them spun out the opposite way. You stand in the middle of the ballroom looking at each other, faces equally stoic.

He is dressed in all black, austere and intimidating. His black hair falls in a sweep across his forehead, just this side of too-long so it obscures his eyes if he tilts his head a certain way. He is always so meticulously hidden in public, nothing but a walking shadow. He is a dark reflection of his family and their grim reputation.

But his jovial laughter is in your mind, his witty quips, his jokester nature. He is devastatingly charming and endlessly humorous.

You would never know just looking at him. Changbin is not the tallest man in the room but he more than compensates with his bulk and power. Pretty much anyone would be big next to you, but you know what your hand looks like when laid against his, how all encompassing the breadth of his big arms feel when they wrap around you.

He does not touch you. He looks. He smirks, like he knows your heart is racing. Then he spins away. Your partner pulls you back.

The dance continues.

You say you are sick and leave the party early. You are escorted back to the house with your usual security flank, sitting in the backseat of your limo with a guard on either side of you. They wear bulletproof gear under their uniform, matching pale blue in the family’s colours, and wearing bulky glasses to shield their eyes. They are all armed to teeth, wearing their holsters and belts. They dwarf you almost comically. They do not speak to you.

When you reach the house, you go straight to your bedrooms. You have three rooms to yourself, each lonely space spilling into the next. You dress in your closet, leaving the gown pooled in a silk mess on the floor. You discard your jewelry and amble to your main room in a satin nightdress and robe.

You almost miss it, the sound so faint, but you swear a gentle knocking comes from your balcony doors. They are still sealed shut. Security did not notice anything remiss upon arrival, but there is a blind spot in the security camera on your balcony. There are no cameras inside your room for privacy purposes. But no one would know that unless you told them.

And you have only told one person.

You approach the balcony doors, wary. You peer into the night, eyes roving the grand expanse of the brightly lit garden and swimming pool. Wind rustles through the leaves of the trees and a security guard is finishing his round.

You step onto your balcony slowly. The security guard can only see you when you lean over. He waves at you before leaving the yard, continuing the rest of his patrol elsewhere. You watch him go.

The world is quiet as it ever is. You can hear the buzz of the pool lights and the tinkling of your wind chimes, little else. You lean against your balcony railing and look over the yard. You weigh the luxury of the estate against its cost. Not for the first time, you ruminate on how it is absolutely not worth it.

You sigh and turn. Then you freeze at what, who, you find.

You mistake him for a security guard for half a second, which nearly gives you a heart attack because they are never on your balcony. But he is just wearing one of their uniforms. You are not sure when he stole it, tonight or previously.

Seo Changbin stands there in the blue uniform shirt and gun holster, winking at you behind bulky glasses. He is pressed against the wall in the solitary blind spot, nodding his head to your balcony door. If you open it a little wider, he can sneak in undetected.

Like he has done a dozen times before.

You feign nonchalance for the camera, humming to yourself as you step into your bedroom. You push your door open all the way, positioning yourself in distracting view of the lens while he sneaks inside. Then you follow and slam the door shut. You both take a curtain and draw them together, meeting in the middle.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say. It is not what you want to say. You want to say, thank god you are here. I missed you so much. But that is an utterly foolish proclamation. You know better. You have always known better.

But the son of your family’s greatest enemy is standing in your bedroom anyway. He looks at you, at where you clutch your robe, at where you wet your lips. He removes the glasses and tosses them aside, as if to study you more closely.

“I shouldn’t,” he says. You cannot tell if it is an agreement or a question.

“No, you shouldn’t,” you say. You take a step back, because every second in his proximity only compels you closer. It is surer than a planet caught in a gravitational pull, threatened to be shattered by the sheer cosmic power of the star holding it in orbit.

He steps with you. When you take another step, he follows. Back and back and back. He feels big in this space. Even though your room is massive, his presence shadows your little world. When your back hits the wall and he looms in front of you, he is all you can see. Nothing else exists beyond him.

“Changbin, we shouldn’t be doing this,” you say, though you know it is useless to protest your liaison with any logic, because this is a matter of the heart and not mind. That rebellious heart of yours beats faster. “If anyone found you here… we’d both be in so much trouble.”

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he says. He speaks with such easy confidence, like it is a matter of fact and not hope. He says it so certainly that you almost believe him.

“You can’t promise that,” you say.

“Yah, shame on you,” he teases. “You know I always keep my word.”

It is true. Though Changbin has a formidable reputation, it has little basis in actuality. He is a man of strong moral principle. He does not like the fighting and brawling and warring. He does not hurt innocent people, nor does he put civilians at risk for the sake of a stupid business.

And he has treated you with more loving respect than anyone else in your life.

Of course you surrender to him, again and again, sighing now as you lean against the wall and release your robe. It falls open and reveals your little nightdress. His gaze dives down your body, igniting sparks inside you. You were once insecure about your appearance, taking to heart your mother’s admonishments, that you were scrawny and gaunt, nothing but a burden as they struggled to find a match for you.

It is no struggle for Changbin. He curses even though he has seen you a dozen times. He holds your hips, then runs his strong hands up your body so you shiver all over. He cups the back of your head and draws you close, like he intends to kiss you. You are ready for it, eyelids heavy and lips parting.

With his other hand, he reaches for his chest holster. You blink as he slowly draws the gun, as he brings it closer to you. It feels like your whole body turns to liquid heat, heart thundering as he rests the barrel so delicately against your temple.

“See, baby,” he says, “if they find us, they’ll blame me. What was a little thing like you supposed to do, ah? Fight me?”

You are breathing harder, already so hot with anticipation. You gasp when he tugs you closer still, the gun still tapping your temple.

His lips are so close to yours, they almost touch.

“Poor baby,” he says. “She’s so good to her family. It’s not her fault Seo Changbin climbed in her window and fucked her in her little nightdress.” He moves the gun, making your breath catch again. The barrel touches your lips then moves down, down. It brushes a sensitive nipple, then moves lower still. The cool metal brushes your inner thigh under your nightdress and your knees starting shaking, a delicious heat twisting in your belly. “Tsk, tsk,” he says. “No panties. Maybe it’s not my fault completely.”

“We really shouldn’t do this,” you say, but it is still not what you want to say. I want you, I need you, so so badly.

He smiles and lifts the gun again, all the way up to your mouth where he taps your lips.

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” he asks.

It is so funny; Changbin is holding a gun to your lips but you feel more safe than dancing among those people at the party. You trust him so completely, so irrevocably, that you do not feel truly threatened for even a moment. There is something so liberating and joyous in allowing your body to go completely lax, in forgetting all your many grievances for the short but blissful time you have with him. Your heart is so full you could burst.

You kiss the tip of the gun, then smile.

“Well,” you say. “What are you waiting for?”

He tosses the gun onto the bed so he can hold you with both hands when he kisses you. You moan against his lips. His searching hands are careful where he touches you, squeezing and loving. He cups the small curve of your breast in his palm, rubs there until electric desire shoots to every extremity.

You shrug your robe off and he wastes no time gathering you into his arms. He holds you so securely, picking you up with no effort at all. Then you are pressed against the wall with him pressed against you.

“Yes, yes,” you say, gasping, as he kisses down your neck. He hikes you higher, catching you effortlessly, guiding your legs around him as he kisses down to your breasts. He wraps his lips around a nipple through your dress, making you clench your thighs around him, which makes him giggle like the maniacal tease he is.

“You like that,” he says, and tugs your dress down to get his mouth on you properly. He is so good with his tongue. You feel a little giddy, thinking to yourself that it is his true weapon. Fast, precise, teasing you and working you until you are tugging at his head and grinding against him.

“I need you,” you say, breathlessly, “Changbin, Changbin—”

You seldom take your time, given the danger of the situation. With the house empty and both your families occupied, you have time tonight to go a little slower, but you simply cannot wait. You are both accustomed to instant satisfaction when together. Your body feels wrong without him inside it. You need him like a breath of air.

“Please,” you say.

You do not have to beg much. He fiddles with his belt and his zip, then he repositions you. You cover your mouth to catch your squeal when he pushes inside you. He moans into your neck to stifle his own sounds.

“Baby, so good for me,” he murmurs, sounding intoxicated from the silky feel of you, wrapped around him so completely.

You know the feeling. You are incapable of forming sentences, clinging to him desperately as he fucks you steadily against the wall. He holds you with just one arm, the other palm planted flat to the wall, near your head. You clutch his big bicep while your other hand sinks in the hair at his nape. You fuck until he is close, when he carries you to the bed and lays you out.

You lean forward and take him in your mouth, sucking him down until he comes. He bites his wrist to keep his volume down.

You wipe your lips, smiling. Then you sprawl back on the bed, nightdress turned to little more than a sash around your middle. You slide it off completely. Even though he just came, he is already looking you with hungry eyes. He puts a knee on the bed, evidently ready to pounce.

You pick up the gun and point it at him, quirking a playful eyebrow. He blinks at you, surprised, then smiles as well.

“Baby,” he says. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” you reply.

It just makes him laugh. The sound makes your heart gush with sentiment. He looks so handsome and sweet, hair pushed back, a light sheen of sweat on his neck. He is still mostly dressed, tucked back into his pants, but they are open and slung low, his shirt all untucked.

He gazes at you with deep, dark eyes, nothing but affection on his face. He plays your game and strips his shirt off, then he crawls across the bed until he is close enough for you to rest the barrel of the gun against his temple.

“Go on,” you say, nodding.

Truly, his tongue is the greater weapon. The gun does not stand a chance, falling out of your hand, forgotten, as he descends between your legs. You feather his hair through your fingers, then dig into his scalp, riding the motion of his mouth as he licks and sucks and kisses you down there. You come with a shivering sigh, your legs shaking.

He lifts his head and wiggles his eyebrows. “Good?” he asks, to which you can only nod. “Ha-ha,” he says, lightly slapping your thigh. “Of course it was. It’s me.”

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes.

“You are incorrigible,” you say.

He climbs up your body and kisses you on the lips, tasting of you. It makes you whimper, delighted.

“I think you meant to say incredible,” he teases. “That’s okay, I understood you anyway.”

“I’m sure you did,” you say. Because there is a great deal of truth in that statement. You and him are on opposite sides of this ridiculous feud, but you are in exactly the same place. No one understands you better than him.

That understanding is written all over his face. He smiles tenderly, cupping your cheek in his hand. His next kiss is the definition of romance itself, sweet and long, enough to make you swoon.

“How much time do you think we have?” you ask.

“Not much,” he answers, then kisses you again. “Don’t think about it now. It’s okay, baby. I got you.”

“I know,” you say. You wrap your arms around each other and hold tight, kissing again while you can. The truth is, neither of you is in any position to dictate your fate. But he kisses you like that does not matter, with no past and no tomorrow on the horizon. You take control of this moment and consider it a happy ending for as long as you can.

#seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #changbin x you #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x you #valentinesdaystories #anonymous request

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veinsfullofstars · 3 months

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✨ May I interest you in some Dedede and Meta Knight as childhood friends? ✨

(ID: Kirby series fanart, Childhood Friends AU, of King Dedede and Meta Knight as kids interacting in various cute and wholesome scenarios, such as coloring, cloud-watching, sparring with sticks, overindulging on sweets, protecting each other from bullies, and more. Design-wise, young Dedede is short and chubby with a smaller beak and three feathers sticking up from the top of his head. He wears a pair of red overalls with gold buttons on the straps and a pocket on the front with a white two-finger peace sign. Young Meta Knight is maskless and similar in appearance to Kirby, save for his yellow eyes, dark blue complexion, and a pair of tiny wings on his back. Additional headcanons and worldbuilding for this AU under the cut. END ID.)

UPDATE 03/11/24: Added a scar to Meta's head.

(AU info updated as of 05/23/24.)

Started on 10/09/23, finished on 10/11/23. NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 10/11/23.

—

-This AU primarily takes place within the Kirby gameverse (with a few superficial elements borrowed from external media), the timeline starting decades before the events of KDL and eventually catching up to and following the main games’ canon (with nods to side games and some unique events added here and there for character flavor). I am trying to stay canon-compliant, but I’m also kinda making things up as I go and changing them as needed, so no promises I won’t just go completely off the rails the more I workshop things, haha.

-I'm mostly going to leave ages nebulous in this AU (in line with the series itself not really giving characters canonical ages and to keep the timeline a bit looser narratively), but - for clarity's sake - we'll say Dedede and Meta are both the equivalent of 7-to-11 years old here, though they first met a little earlier...

-Meta Knight is just called Meta for now - he won’t earn his title until after he starts his overstars military training with the Galaxy Soldier Army (GSA) in his late teens.

-That hammer belongs to Dedede’s mama - a former pro-wrestler - and will someday be passed down to him (once he’s strong enough to actually pick it up).

-The Star Warriors/GSA inclusion in this AU is more for flavor than any major role. In this version, they are an intergalactic military group fighting various malignant forces and providing relief-aid across the universe, their reputation generally positive thanks to a genuine effort on their part to balance acts of war and defense with acts of philanthropy, community assistance, and compassion, well-known enough to reach even distant Popstar. Most known Star Warriors - Sir Arthur, Sir Dragato, Kit Cosmos, etc. - are either long since passed on or retired somewhere outside of the story (with a few exceptions we may learn about later...). Upon learning of the GSA, Meta becomes enamored with their deeds and longs to be a knight himself (not yet aware of the hardships involved in becoming one).

-The kids like to spar for fun in their free time, but on occasion they get proper training from Dedede’s papa - a retired knight with connections to the GSA who’d settled in Dream Land with his wife just before they had their only son. Meta looks up to him with the same admiration he has for the Star Warriors. Dedede, however, doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with his well-meaning but rather strict father.

-In his early years, Meta is quite shy around people he doesn’t know well. In overwhelming situations, he tends to either shut down and go non-verbal or quietly slip away to recoup. That said, he is much more expressive around those he trusts, listening eagerly and chatting far more than he would otherwise. He also has a bit of an anger streak hidden just under all that resolve, though it takes a lot of prodding to bring it out...

-As a kid, Dedede is impulsive to a fault and likes to make wild plans that tend to put him and his buddies in precarious situations (when he can be bothered to actually follow through with them, that is). Meta is often the first to point out the flaws in said plans (if Para Dee doesn’t do it first) but inevitably ends up tagging along anyway, his wariness easily overturned by his curiosity.

-Meta is sometimes bullied by the bigger kids in the village due to his strange appearance and timid nature. Dedede is quick to step in and defend him, usually getting into scraps in the process. It will be a little while before either of them gain the respect of their peers…

#veins art #veins fanart #fanart #kirby series #kirby #king dedede #meta knight #star warriors #AU #childhood friends au #friendship #technically pre-relationship #but I'm gonna keep the tags platonic for now since they're still kids here #no weird gooey feelings yet #right now they're just a pair of good buds who really believe in each other #veinsfullofstars

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godspecd · 2 years

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𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧 - many would recall his attire that he wore only years ago for his beloved sister’s wedding to prince daemon. the same man he regarded as family, he ensured to make aware just how proud house velaryon still remained even if they bent their knee to their king. the way the dark blues brought out the golds that adorned the heir of house velaryon that night. a single man then, many would have loved to find them lost in his embrace that night looking devastatingly handsome. yet, now, for the second wedding, one could notice how the blues and the golds seemed to be long forgotten in the now-ruling lord of driftmark. black and white adorned his being, the pattern on his sherwani resembling much what late princess laena would have worn so effortlessly. he stands in support of his king and his heir, seeing as his loyalty has never wavered from them even if many like to believe them to be involved in his sister’s passing.

𝐝𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐰 - the ruling lady of pyke, making one of her first public appearances without the looming figure of her father or mother since their passing. while many knew the lack of involvement her parents had with the iron islands since dyana had returned from her travels around westeros and essos, many doubted she could excel without the looming threat of disapproval from her parental figures. yet, here she stood, a flourishing nation that only seemed to grow stronger by the day. accompanied by her betrothed, lord ryamis redwyne, her gown is a personal reminder to herself to not let her home define her completely. so different than the colors of her house, yet seemingly perfect for the woman who symbolizes peace within the iron islands. a personal touch was added, as the precious stones on her bodice is all broken pieces of geode rocks she has collected through the years on the iron islands. a gentle reminder that while all seems bleak in the iron islands, there still was a beauty that possessed such a place if one looked hard enough. one could look at dyana and almost forget how her cries echoed merely weeks before all the festivities happened. good, cause she would need all of her pride to hold herself together during the drama to occur ahead of her.

𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 - malina, the true sun of the north, the holder of all the stars in her husbands eyes, so desperately awaited for an occasion to dress up. fortunately, her gown would not go to waste, as the green silks and green sheer fabric so graciously reminded everybody just what would bring a beast down to its knees. she looked mother nature herself, the forests of the north that beckoned one to get closer and explore its mysterious wonders. the robe like design of the dress was a small request on her behalf for her husband, since she knew how much he adored such a silhouette on her. she looked the spitting image of a goddess, holding onto her husband’s arm who seemed humbled by the experience of escorting such a divine being to an event. even if mere moments before he caught her mocking all the lord’s ideas of her husband with his cane raised up in the sky, proclaiming for all to fear her. her handmaidens couldnt help but laugh, cause even if malina tried, she could hardly act intimidating. she was never a good actor. though, it left one wondering what it would feel like to be on malina’s bad side.

𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 - many already know of elif’s reputation. there was even those who have seen elif in the most compromising of positions thanks to certain lover boys who wished nothing more than to see their woman perform for an audience. one could say that while elif’s fashion was rather modest, there was nothing that was hidden at night near her private quarters in oldtown or the brothels that got paid handsomely to keep their mouth shut. yet, elif was getting so tired of having to pretend. the rumors were there, her reputation was hardly anything to maintain. her sweet demeaner many knew only hid the she-devil that laid underneath. so why not indulge it? why not deliver what everyone expects of her? oh how her grin lit the room when the sheers of the fabric left little to the imagination, but the waves of purple jewels expertly covered all that needed to be covered. it was elif’s personality embodied in a gown, with the color of the house she was meant to join one day. there are already those who dont like the idea of aeron marrying elif, those who think he deserves better. those who believe she is nothing but a disgrace to the noble name of dayne. yet, elif’s confidence that she radiates at the wedding festivties says “aeron dayne is lucky to even call me his”. there is little anyone can say that could ruin her mood that night.

#thrones.wedding

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your-astro-mami · 3 years

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The 1st House Ruler and your identity

The first House or your Ascendant/Rising sign represents your character, your self and everything that is a part of you, including your physical body and appearance.

The planet that rules your 1st House is highly important - what it represents is greatly connected to your identity, its the most influential energy in your chart.

How to find the planet ruling your 1st House?

Look at the sign on your 1st House/Ascendant and the planet it is ruled by:

Aries - Mars, Taurus - Venus, Gemini - Mercury, Cancer - Moon, Leo - Sun, Virgo - Mercury, Libra - Venus, Scorpio - Mars,Pluto, Sagittarius - Jupiter, Capricorn - Saturn, Aquarius - Uranus, Pisces - Neptune.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is the Sun:

You exude courage and confidence. You are warm, inviting, give people the energy you want to receive. Your world revolves around you, at times you may feel like other people's worlds have to revolve around you too. You can be authorative, you were likely very influenced by your father or male figures in your life. You are inspiring ro yourself and others.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is the Moon:

You are emotive, you are likely to face changes quite often, there can be lack of stability, you may be very reactive and sensitive to your surroundings and other people. You are highly empathetic, you like to nurture others, understand them, make them feel better. You are focused on caring about yourself and others, maybe even prioritize others at times. You are a person who feels like home. You may experience a lot of daily travelling or movement (for duties, job.)

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Mercury:

Your personality revolves around your intellect - you are a curious person who wants to understand everything they face. You are intelligent and quick-witted (If your Ascendant is Virgo, you may have a dry but smart sense of humor). You like to talk, share your thoughts and opinions. You like to play the devil's advocate and at times defend others just for the sake of it. You have great memory and good ability to collect information.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Venus:

You exude beauty and harmony, you bring peace wherever you go. You are charismatic and have the ability to make people like you without much work. You are influenced by the feminine figures in your life. You like to see and represent the beauty in life, you like to bring things together, you like to appeal to everyone and visualize the world as a beautiful place to be.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Mars:

You are dominant and assertive. You like things to go your way. You may have a troubled temper, inability to stay patient, you are expressive of your dissatisfaction or irritation. You can be prone to violence - it can be expressed in different ways, it's not always direct. You are very competitive, you are bold and brave, you have the courage to do things others may be afraid of. You aren't afraid to face your fears. You are a warrior at heart.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Jupiter:

You are born with luck, throughout your life you are likely to meet many people who are willing to help you and guide you through anything. You attract opportunities and now matter how hard the situation you're in might be, there will always be a way out. You are wiser than your age, you learn through other people's experiences, you love freedom and knowledge. You receive double the amount of what you give.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Saturn:

While Jupiter represents positive growth from experience, Saturn can show th growth we have from suffering, from hardships and what we've been through. You are a dedicated person who is persistent, unwilling to give up no matter how hard it is. You may feel restricted, limited, blocked from certain experiences in life - like something is holding you back. Despite the downs and sorrow you may experience, you must know that you have the strength of two people combined, you are the person who builds their own life's structure.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Uranus:

You are an innovator, you are a person sent from the future, a stranger in a strange land. No one knows what to expect from you, you are the hidden genius - you may be misunderstood often, people rarely have the same perspective as you. You are an unconventional person, you have a distinctive way of presenting yourself, of being. You live in the future, you look foward to the way things will be, not how they are or were. You are bold, unapologetically yourself and unafraid of how you're perceived.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Neptune:

You represent glamour - but in the untouchable, far-away type of way. You give an illusion about yourself that could be very different from reality - whether it's intentional or not. You are vulnerable and may often view the world and others in a deluded way - you may think things are better or worse than they are. You have a very strong inutuition and are likely to follow your heart.

If the planet ruling your 1st House is Pluto:

Even if you are quiet your presence is always noticed. You may experience things intensely - everything that has happened has influenced you in one way or another. Life feels like a constant transformation - big changes are made quite often, for better or for worse. You are strong-willed, you have tough-skin and the ability to overcome anything.

The House your chart ruler is in and which area of your life has the biggest impact on your identity:

Example: Kim Kardashian has Sagittarius on the 1st House Cusp/Ascendant. Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter. Her Jupiter is in the 10th House.

1st House ruler in the 1st House:

Similarly to the Sun, your world revolves around you. You are a very self-focused person. You are true to yourself. You may be seen as selfish, but you prioritize yourself. You are likely focuse on self-improvement throughout life. You are the face of your own brand. You are very connected to your body.

1st House ruler in the 2nd House:

Your identity is focused on the way you support yourself, your values and what brings value into your life and character. You may be seen and vain or materialistic, because you understand the worth of money. You have a strong sense of self-worth. You can sometimes be passive or avoidant of action. You like having stability, a pattern, you might be a creature of habit.

1st House ruler in the 3rd House:

You are a communicative person with a strong need to express yourself. Your siblings or neighbourhood have influenced you. You are a person who feels responsible for their community. You are creative and have the ability to transform any information in a useful way. You may often have short trips.

1st House ruler in the 4th House:

You are someone who is very connected to their roots, their home and family. Your family has had the biggest influence on your identity. You are a very home-oriented person who looks for parts of their home wherever they go. You may have traditional values or values taught from your family. Your life may revolve around homes, properties, ancestry.

1st House ruler in the 5th House:

They are constantly inspired - a very creative individual. They are great with children. Their life may revolve around anything that brings them pleasure and makes them feel good - relationships, hobbies. They have a strong need to express their creativity, to show off a product of theirs, to be proud of something in their life. They are a person who is very fun to be around, someone that brings out other people's best side and inspires them.

1st House ruler in the 6th House:

Another creature of habit, of routine. Their work and work environment is highly important when it comes to how they generally feel. Happy wife, happy life, but make the wife your work. They can be very health-conscious and keep a steady healthy lifestyle (if they have time). They are prone to health problems especially ones that come from stress (again, work-related) - especially headaches. They are very responsible and reliable.

1st House ruler in the 7th House:

You are very influenced by your relationships with other people. People with this placement tend to mirror other people's characteristics unintentionally. They are very considerate people, very willing to compromise in order to keep a good relationship with everyone. They tend to attract and be attracted to people similar to them. They are very diplomatic and have a natural good sense for business.

1st House ruler in the 8th House:

A very private, secretive person, who can often lack trust in other people. May be very money-focused. They value truth, they have the ability to face everything, every topic no matter how uncomfortable it is. They seek power, validation, to have any kind of impact. They aren't afraid of the darkness of the world.

1st House ruler in the 9th House:

A person very focused on knowledge, education or generally the complex matters in life. These are the people who are focused on gaining experience throughout life, undertaning different perspectives, travelling and mastering any topic that peaks their interest. This is a great position for a guru, a political leader, a professor, someone who has responsibility on a greater level.

1st House ruler in the 10th House:

They can be someone who is well-known, who has a large reputation and is known by a lot of people., especially from their career and what they do professionally. Their personal identity is influenced by their field of work. They are good at self-marketing, how they present themselves, carefully building their own image.

1st House ruler in the 11th House:

Another house that can show fame - more specifically fame from a following, from building an audience, networking. Their identity is influenced by their friend groups. They are a people's person, who seeks support from others. They often think for the good of a larger group of people, they can be very selfless.

1st House ruler in the 12th House:

Possibly the biggest sign of an introvert, someone more focused on their inner world than their surroundings. While it can show that you can be prone to isolating yourself, it can also show that your time alone is your most productive and joyful time (depending on the aspects). There people are highly intuitive, very close to the spiritual world.

#astrology #1st house #ascendant #rising sign #1st house ruler #zodiac signs #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

Text

an ode to winter | dabi.

♡ pairing: dabi/touya todoroki x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 14.1K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: manga war arc!au, single-parent!au, unplanned pregnancy!au, angst, fluff, smut.

♡ summary: touya todoroki had broken a lot of things, your heart, promises, your window a few times, but you swore he'd never leave your child feeling that way. but when he wants back into your life, will he take no for an answer? And do you even want to say it?

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, ( literally 5k of it ), MANGA SPOILERS IN THE EXTENDED ENDING, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of semi-toxic!relationships, struggling with parenting, blackmail ??, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, losers ), handjobs, oral sex ( female receiving ), fingering ( female receiving ), choking, branding, squirting, spit!kink, needy touya lol <3

♡ author’s note(s): OK so this started out as a fic for my bestie @ozzy-bozzy but then turned into this long ass vent fic bc i do be struggling!! i’ve barely written for touya so apologies if his character is off. special thanks to @bakugous-trauma for beta reading n @doinmybesthere for the summary and beta reading and thanks for 4.7K MWAH <3

♡ masterlist | requests

the snow had fallen heavy that day, its flakes dancing along the window panes while you’d brought her into the world. you hated the cold, the way it nipped at your nose and stung at your cheeks, how it could freeze over a heart so badly that it would take years to thaw it out. you’d complained about the ice sheets that frosted your windows to the doctors, the ones on the roads too, but they’d simply wrote it off as your anxieties related to bringing kori home for the first time in such weather.

funnily enough, your daughter much resembled the cold in many ways. you’d named her ‘kori’; meaning ice, since her hair was white as the crisp blanket of winter outside and her eyes a piercing shade of aqua marine, that for a while, had no meaning written behind them except for a cool curiosity that you knew didn’t come from your side of the family. she wasn’t warm either, the first time you held her, her flesh against yours was almost a painful spark of frostbite— you expected that it was related to the lineage she came from too.

you thought that you’d resent kori when she was born; for the struggles that her new life had brought to you. you’d given birth alone and afraid, having lost friends and contact with your family due to keeping your pregnancy a secret. if they had known who caused you to end up in this situation in the first place, you were sure you’d have lost them all anyways. you hadn’t a chance to attend maternity classes due to the hours you worked in order to ensure yourself and your child’s financial security. although, prior to her arrival, dabi had told you that if you chose to give your daughter the todoroki name; you both would be looked after when the right time came.

and like a fool in love, you’d believed him, avoiding the apologetic gazes of the doctors and midwives who’d delivered your baby as you filled out her paperwork and birth certificate. one nurse even asked you if you wanted to contact endeavour for support, and you couldn’t blame her— the rumours of your child potentially being that of natsuo todoroki’s had spread fast through the hospital and it was a given, figuring his bad boy college reputation. natsuo and his ventures into the college life were no stranger to the media, so it didn’t surprise you nor the doctors to believe that this wasn’t the first time a girl had given birth alone to a todoroki child. you suspected that if there were any, enji todoroki would have paid them off.

so you let them believe what ever false truth that might have plagued the hospital walls about yourself and your daughter— not having the heart to tell them that you’d probably receive a much larger sum of money to keep hush about the child that you mothered and the child who’s father belonged to endeavour’s deceased, eldest son.

so you realised, thumb held by the chubby hand of your sweet infant girl; that you couldn’t hate her for the mistakes you’d made and the mess you’d become tangled up in— you could only promise to do your best in raising her despite the odds and difficult circumstances, you could give her the life and childhood that her father never had but most certainly deserved.

“miss yn...”

your midwife; himari enters the room, calling for you— tearing your gaze away from the hypnotising sea-foam eyes belonging to your daughter, the way she looked at you only reminding you of dabi. you’d told him once that his eyes always took you to the mediterranean sea, to which he’d laughed and mentioned you’d never seen it before. when the pair of you realised that this was true, the boy with the black hair and intoxicating stare made an oath to you, that he would take you there someday so you could bask in the warm sun and dip your toes into the clear oceans. you only hoped that this oath still remained true.

“miss yn...” himari tries again, this time stepping further into your hospital room. your thoughts had carried you so far away that you hadn’t realised how close she’d gotten as she lingered by your cot. her hands lay flat against her pale blue uniform, nails you note—neatly trimmed— and a smile that would have made you feel comfortable had you not known she’d volunteered to care for you because she too believed she’d be paid off by endeavour. you almost felt bad that she thought the silly lie was true and that she had a shot at a big time bonus but it was funny to think that no one would believe her when she eventually took to the news to claim that she cared for the next heir of the todoroki empire. “it’s says here, that kori is scheduled for feeding— i was wondering if you wanted to continue breast feeding or try pumping a bottle or two today?”

chewing on the inside of your cheek, you hum with hesitance. feeding kori was something you’d never discussed with dabi, some of the nurses had assured you that it was possible for you to do both— so that you could grow closer to your daughter and form a tight bond whilst also giving the opportunity to others to feed her when need be. there weren’t many others, but you figured that dabi might want to give bottle feeding a whirl when he finally returned from the league business. the business that had made him miss his little girl’s birth.

kori gargles from hunger in your arms, drawing your attention back to her tiny form. a stray strand of hair curls against her forehead from underneath her blankets and swaddling— the end you notice has a slight tint of red to it. the icy shell around your heart thaws. glancing back up to himari; you grin with a decision in mind. “i’d like to try breast feeding again, we can use the pump tomorrow.” you say, voice quiet.

“do you need any help getting her to latch?” your midwife asks, aiding you into a comfortable position to feed kori.

“no,” you smile after getting settled, pushing down your gown to expose your breast to your little girl. “i’ve got her, i can take care of her.”

you say the words more so to yourself than to himari, a hidden reassurance that you’re more than capable of raising your daughter on your own.

for now at least.

that winter, dabi never came home.

the snow melts, the flowers bloom and the seasons change. your daughter grows with the swift transition of the weathers too, her hair is a little longer now but the small curl of red against her forehead remains hidden and the same. her eyes open wider, still that deep shade of ocean blue, she can sit up on her own, throws toys out of her crib and her favourite movies are bambi and bambi two. they’re the only things that she watches, which you hate, because they remind you of her. an innocent child who loses one parent and is left in the care of the emotionally closed off other.

you hadn’t realised how much you would need dabi, but still he is nowhere to be seen.

raising kori on your own proves a challenge, especially now that she’s a little bigger— it was easy after she was born; she was quiet and only made a fuss when she was hungry or needed to be changed. went down easy too, that was until her wails reared their ugly head as soon as the colder parts of winter hit. no matter what you did, the girl would cry for hours on end until her face would hurt from how scrunched it was and her fingers would turn red from the grip she had on your hands.

since her birth, you and kori had to move three times due to the noise complaints about her consistent crying throughout the day, evening and night. by the time february rolled around, you’d ended up in an apartment not so far from dabi’s old neighbourhood— it was a shitty area with high crime rates and an eerie feel to it that made you clutch your purse tighter when you walked home from the late night shifts— you had never had any intentions to raise kori in a dump like this, you wanted a better life for her than what dabi had, but your shabby two bedroom apartment in the dark side of town would be enough for now.

the rent was cheap since your current boss at the local grocers market was close friends with the building manager, but your boss was also a sleaze who thought offering you an extra 10% off of your weekly shop and an expired coupon for the coffee joint down the street would be enough to get into your pants. he was just another thing on your list that you hated about the world, about the current life you lead but you needed to keep him close to keep your rent low and a roof over your head.

besides, it had been a few days since you last saw him at work— the asshole was probably taking a few days to himself while you and your colleagues practically ran the store.

you can’t leave kori with a sitter; they never worked with her. your daughter was far too temperamental for the average person and would spend one night with her before taking their pay and quitting. the only person able to handle your beloved little girl was the old lady who lived two floors above yours, mrs. yamamoto. she was a sweet woman, widowed by fifteen years and had taken a liking to kori that one time you’d helped with her groceries when she couldn’t make it out in the february winter after your little girl was born.

it seemed kori liked mrs yamamoto as well, she was only ever quiet in the woman’s presence and you put it down to how high she had the heat up in her apartment. one time, it was up so high the power in the building went out for an entire night— which was hell for you since kori wouldn’t stop bawling. however; you appreciated the help, you’re sure that without the help of the elder woman you would have been far under the surface— drowning in regret.

but sometimes, it’s easy for the darker emotions to slip through the cracks— take a choke hold over your sanity. there would be nights where guilt would consume you and tears would flow heavily down your cheeks while your daughter slept. it was hard being alone, no one to confide in about the troubles of parenting or to reassure you that you were doing a good job at taking care of your child.

it didn’t help that winter was coming up again, kori’s first birthday fast approaching. the sudden milestone only made you wish that dabi was around more — it hurt you to know that there was possibility he’d run out on you and his responsibilities as a father but part of you believed that your lover was better. the eldest todoroki son appeared way too excited throughout your pregnancy to leave you with nothing.

despite not being able to make it to appointments due to his criminal nature, dabi had somehow manged to find the money to get you a 4D ultra sound of your baby, telling you a few odd jobs here and there allowed him to scrape the cash together. you never asked what it was that he did, afraid of what you might find in the eyes of the man that you loved so much.

why did you allow yourself to love a man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day if he hadn’t broken into your home? his seafoam eyes a glowing shade as he threatened your life through shards of broken glass and then wails of cop sirens outside. were you just as broken as he? had you not realised it yet? you could blame this whole mess on the fact that he kept coming back, but you always let him back in. dabi was a broken man who only knew blood and grit and grime and you were the girl with a chance to lead a normal life— yet you poured all of your heart and all of your soul into loving him because you were so sure that you could fix him.

and every single time you’d convinced him, convinced yourself that what you had could be normal and domestic— dabi would slip between your sheets, pinning you to your bed with your name heavy on your lips and the emotion of love painted into the turquoise flecks in his eyes. they burned with passion while his heated cock sunk between your plush thighs and welcomed him into your warmth. the moans you’d share while your skin slapped together, creating a bubble of safety where you were the only two people on the world.

dabi made promises against your swollen lips as his fingers swirled hidden messages of desire into your slick, puffy clit. he couldn’t give you the ring, the wedding or the house with the white picket fence and dog barking at the post man in the front yard— but he could give you every part of him from the good to the bad, the beautiful to the ugly and he would seal that promise with a throaty groan of ‘you are mine and i am yours...’ into your ear as you came together.

but it seemed that like all things, dabi’s promises were broken like shattered glass— never meant to be kept or eternalised. the shards cut your delicate fingers, the pain numbed as you were left to pick up the pieces and be strong for the small life you were now responsible for.

you were careful to not let the door fly in and hit the wall opposite as you unlocked it, stumbling into your two bedroom with kori’s chubby legs locked around your hips and bag full of groceries in your other hand. “look princess,” you coo down at your daughter sweetly, watching as she drools all over your staff lanyard from work. “we’re home!” bending down, you dropped the produce off by the door before heading off to your living room area, propping kori in front of her toy mat.

smiling down at her, you brush the pure white hair that curls over her cobalt eyes and kiss her freckled cheeks— heart swooning at the way kori giggles in your arms. she’d been on her best behaviour the entire week, keeping out of trouble with the staff at her daycare and mrs yamamoto in the place upstairs, so it was only right that you treat her.

“you hungry babygirl? want mommy to make your favourite, hm?” kori is barely old enough to talk aside from a few babbles and repeats of mama but that doesn’t stop you from asking.

“mmmamamamaa!!”

you press another kiss to her baby fat cheeks before heading to the kitchen to prepare her favourite dinner— spaghetti. ever since kori started eating her solids, she hadn’t been a picky eater and you noticed that her appetite much resembled dabi’s, who couldn’t afford to be fussy about any of the meals you’d made for him before he disappeared.

making the sauce is easy, a dish you’d prepared from when you were a child and used to cook with your parents— you retrieve the ingredients from the groceries and pull out the stuff you’ll need to cook them. you mince the vegetables easily like you’d been taught as your mind gets away from you.

you wish that dabi was here to enjoy the domesticity of your current life— maybe him being around would lift the dark cloud over your life. sometimes it hurt to know that he would be missing out on moments like this and you could imagine him sitting by the couch while kori played with her toys and you cooked for them both. in this world, he’d laugh at her fascination with colder toys and magnets— make a joke about how much your little girl resembles him and kiss your cheek when you served them both up their favourite meals.

tears pool in your eyes at the thought of your wish never being granted and that’s all it takes for you to slip and cut your finger while chopping up the garlic. “fuck!” you boss, dropping the knife and squeezing your hand around the wounded digit. you know that the clattering of the knife has scared kori, and from the way she looks at you, you can already tell that she’s seen you injure yourself. “god, fuck...that hurt.”

there’s a pause in time, while you rinse your cut under the tap, cold water soothing the sting before kori starts to wail like her life depends on it. in a rush, you grab a tea towel in hopes that it’ll stop the bleeding and head straight for your baby, hoping that you’ll be able to soothe her. by the time you reach kori, her eyes are red with tears and snot dribbles from her nose down to her chin while she babbles loosely all the new words she’s learned— in a whiny tone.

“baby, don’t cry mommy’s got you,” you murmur to her, reaching out to the little girl with open arms. your heart breaks at the way her bottom lip wobbles in a watery pout. kori crawls into your arms, white mop of soft baby hair buried into the junction between your shoulder and your neck— her tiny body shakes with awful heaves and cries while her tears dampen the old hoodie of her father’s that you wear, effectively ruining the fabric. “come on honey, it’s okay! momma didn’t mean to scare you...”

she snivels in your arms, quiet for only a second while you walk around the apartment bouncing her. walking kori up and down seems to soothe her for the most part, a trick that worked when she was first born and had her horrible crying fits. “good girl, mama’s got you...” you continue to soothe her, brushing a finger under her white lashes to remove her tears. all is well for a second and it seems her tantrum has calmed, until she grabs onto your wounded finger and makes you curse in pain again.

“shit!”

“m-momma-!” kori whimpers, face creasing in pain as her cheeks start to heat up again. you fear that if you don’t do something soon she’ll bust a lung from crying.

you shake your head in an attempt to calm her down, baby sobs striking right through your body and resume bouncing her, hoping that it’ll work. “shhh kori, honey, it’s okay— mommy’s okay and so are you...” in the process of comforting her, you somehow trip over the discarded knife, sending it flying into the cabinets across from the island and making another loud noise that further spooks kori.

at this she screams bloody murder, the sound of her little chest heaving giving you a splitting headache. you were tired, tired of your daughter’s crying , working long hours with no help and raising a child all on your own. you were tired of the pain spreading through your head and your body and your heart. you needed an out or break at the very least.

you should feel guilty for what you’re about to do, heading for the nursery with a heaving baby in your grip. you can’t think of anything better to do than put kori down for a nap and hope that her crying tires her out— you do your best to pry the little girl from clinging onto your clothes and tuck her into her crib as she sniffles, quickly backing out of her room before she can call for you and make you feel even worse than you already do.

you close the door quietly behind you, somewhat sliding down it while your own sobs take over your body— shaking you violently as you hug your knees to your chest. you don’t know how long you sit there, biting your lips and holding onto in your whimpers while tears stream down the apples of your cheeks, but eventually

you find yourself drifting off with dreams of your happy family.

you jump awake a few hours later, surrounded by a thick darkness from the sky outside. the hum of the city streets helps to bring you back down to earth as you rub the sleep from your puffy eyes and blink away the exhaustion. you don’t quite remember when you’d fallen into a slumber but you figure that kori must have eventually, judging by the quietness that surrounds your apartment.

the blanket of the night allows your guilt to burn brightly in your chest— you shouldn’t have left her alone. scrambling to your feet, you stumble over to the kitchen counter and grab your phone to read the time. 11:06pm. it’s just about time that you check on your daughter, but with two steps of heading to the nursery and you’re met with foreign sound that doesn’t quite fit in with the usual creaks and squeaks of your apparent.

happy gurgles belonging to your baby creep out from underneath her bedroom door, low humming or singing to accompany her sweet sound. humming that you don’t recognise. with a pang of fear to your heart, you reach for the knife on your kitchen floor as a weapon of defence— this would go down nicely with the police. a single mother on self defence...yeah, that could work out.

the knife shakes in your hand as you approach kori’s nursery, barely steady even when you push open the door.

“...touya?”

nothing could prepare you for what you’d see after walking into that room but when your eyes fall witness to your love standing in the centre of the room with a little tuft of white hair cradled to his bare chest. the air around you tingles with warmth as if dabi has heated the place up with his quirk and your little girl curls into him as if she’s known him all her life. but she hadn’t, he hadn’t.

all at once, your heart heals just as it breaks— it’s been so long since you’ve seen the villain that you can’t help but notice all the changes in him, the way his eyes droop a little more with exhaustion and his hair dusted with a the slightest bit of white. he was noticeably thinner too, maybe from being away from a warm bed and good food for too long...so a half of you was relieved that he was home, the other— hurt and betrayed.

“hey beautiful,” dabi’s timbre voice fills your entire being, stimulating your senses into a dull tingle. his lips a drawn into soft smirk as he rocks kori back and forth, your baby’s eyes flutter with the gentle indication of sleep. “how’ya been?”

if you weren’t frozen in shock, you would have given the villain a piece of your mind. how dare he...after all this time apart from you, from his daughter...ask how you were doing? your eyes flutter to the open window behind the oldest todoroki son, as if you need to look away from him to convince yourself he’s real and he won’t disappear when you look back.

proven right by meeting the cool, chartreuse sea of his eyes— your throat runs dry as all you’d ever dreamed of saying in this moment, flees from your mind. “what are you doing here?” you say, trying to sound firm even though your voice falls through.

touya stays quiet, twirling a long finger through the small curls on his—your daughter’s head. “i was in the neighbourhood.” he mumbles, gaze tearing away from you to focus on the content infant he has in his arms.

you should feel angry, you should be screaming and kicking at dabi— forcing him out of your home with your child safe in your own arms but your body doesn’t will you to. hurt seeps through your veins at the casual aura in his tone. of course dabi would treat the situation as if it never existed and that he’d been with you the whole time. the pain of seeing him with her as if he’d been in kori’s life from the very start wraps around your heart in a poisonous grip and squeezes hard until you’re choking back a sob, letting it sit in the base of your throat.

you refuse to break in front of him.

“you need to go. you need to put her down and you need to leave.” you attempt to assert yourself in a harsh bark, almost making dabi jump. he’d never seen you like this before, but then again he hadn’t seen you in a year. he could only imagine what motherhood had done to you, especially facing it on your own. touya hesitates, kori shifting in his soft grip— one he didn’t even know that he had as a villain but you steady yourself and repeat your words. “touya, i said you need to leave.”

“why? so you can fall asleep and leave her crying on her own again?” the villain spits out, harsher than he intended. he watches your face fall and your body curl in on itself and he feels bad. dabi had promised you a lot of things since realising he loved you, and not hurting you like his father hurt his mother was one that he’d just broken. relenting, the dark haired villain eases kori from his pec and tucks her into her crib.

there’s a beat of silence and then. “i’m sorry.”

“you should be.”

“yn,” he sighs, running a hand through the light roots of his hair as he leans over his child’s crib. the young father tilts his head, scanning kori’s face while he identifies every characteristic she has from the family he’d done his best to free himself of. “i’m sorry, it’s just— just that she was cold and crying, so i took off my shirt and held her and she warmed up and—“ dabi pauses his quiet rambling, finally looking up from the slumbering baby tucked away into powder blue silk and locks eyes with you. “and she probably has my mom’s shitty quirk. and i can’t get over how much she looks like them, how big she’s gotten.”

touya finds his shirt after admitting that, throwing on the thin white material before closing the window he came through. he moves with the swiftness that comes with his job, and it’s almost peaceful to watch. you stay plastered by the door, torn between falling right into the palm of his hand and demanding the answers that you and your daughter deserve.

it makes you feel a little sick when he gazes down at kori with pride, it makes you queasy at how easy she was to handle to him. touya todoroki doesn’t know half of what it was to raise his child...but did that make you a bad mother? was there something he shared with kori that you didn’t? dabi hadn’t known what it was to love someone other than himself until he’d met you, but you’d spent your entire life around family and friends who took care of you and made you feel cherished every day. you had all of that before you had dabi, and you’d given it all up for him.

shouldn’t you be the one to easily put your daughter down for a nap? to soothe her tears? and for him to come so briskly into your lives and take care of it all when he doesn’t even know what you’d been through, hurts most of all.

“you don’t even know her,” you start, tremble to your bottom lip as the sob in your throat builds up and threatens to burst. “you never saw her after she was born, never cut the cord, never knew her weight. you don’t know how tiny she was when she came into the world, you don’t know because you didn’t come!” with each word, stray tears manage to escape from your tired eyes, but you’re too fixated on dabi to bother to wipe them. it hurts to cry, it stings even as they stream down the apples of youth cheeks but you don’t move.

“yn, sweetness, i—“

“i know how much she weighed when she was born, four pounds and thirteen ounces. she was so tiny i was scared that she would break—“ you’re gasping now, almost choking yourself out on the pain that burns brightly in your lungs and claws its way up your throat. “i know her favourite foods, what fabrics irritate her skin, her favourite stuffed toys, how she likes to be swaddled in her blankets at night or that her curls make her face itch but they’re practically untameable.”

you start to heave, losing breath with every word and dabi does nothing but watch, keeping an eye on kori to make sure she stays sleeping as he steps towards you. “i know that i love her more than i’ve loved anything in my entire life, despite how much i suffered alone bringing her into this world. and i know that i named her kori after the ice that frosted the windows of my hospital room while i waited for... you.”

touya remains emotionless while you descend into madness, letting you cry it out. “i’ve been watching...”

you want to scream, beat his chest and blame him for how insane you’ve become. “watching isn’t enough touya, she needed you. i-i needed you.” you whimper, falling limp against the door frame as your hands move threateningly towards your hair as if you’re going to rip it out from the root. “...you couldn’t come and visit? not once i-in the eleven months that she’s been alive? not once while she’s been breaking me down and giving—“

“giving you a hard time? i tried, i took care of you from afar...i’m the one who made your boss disappear. the one who put his hands on you.” dabi sneers towards the end of his once gentle words, standing a breaths width away from you. you hate that you crave the same touch from him as he gave to kori, but you’re still so mad at him.

eventually, it all becomes too much and you succumb to the tears that wrack your exhausted body. you sway with each choked wail that tumbles from between your chapped lips and dabi surges forward to catch you after kicking the knife from earlier away, letting you sink into the warmth of his embrace. he feels like home, smells like safety and not a word is uttered as he brings you to the floor and cradles you like he did with his daughter.

dabi doesn’t need to say sorry when he shows you through how close he holds you to his heart.

when you finally calm down, dabi lifts you bridal style to your bathroom and draws you a bath with the salts and lavender extract from the cupboard above the sink. neither of you speak except for when he softly offers to help you undress— to which you decline— and when he tells you he’s going to fix something to eat.

you knew damn well that the villain could not cook, he hadn’t been when he was little since endeavour took away the entirety of his childhood and you’d only taught him the basics when he was still on the run and stopped by your place from time to time. his favourite thing back then had been to watch you cook to the weird music you kept playing, hips swaying to the beat and a sparkle in your eyes— but you didn’t do that anymore, he could tell those days were long gone.

dabi orders in takeout in the end and you have half a mind to curse him out for using your money— but the day’s events have exhausted you beyond your wits end, so you eat with him in silence atop your double bed after dressing in an old shirt of his. “stay the night.” is what you tell him, scared that he’ll leave. he puts his cigarette out on your balcony. the doors usually stayed locked so kori couldn’t crawl out on her own but you opened it for him since dabi liked to smoke and you hated the ash.

he promised to quit back then, and he hadn’t now.

“i’ll stay.” dabi says, throwing the butt over the ledge and stripping his clothes as he follows you to bed. he decides not to mention he wanted to stay anyway. you peel back the covers enough for him to slip in behind you, heated arms wrapping around your waist and settling on your tummy, where he rubs small patterns into your skin. the villain’s chest is overwhelmingly warm against your back— reminding you of the days where you would spoon and he’d wait with baited breath for kori to kick.

both of you lay together, wide awake in the dark for goodness knows how long. touya’s breath balmy against the nape of your neck and if you focused hard enough, you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. he pretends to sleep, refusing to acknowledge that his proximity to you affects him in the worst of ways— evident in how his prominent hard on presses against the swell of your ass.

rolling over, your heart skips a beat at the way your love’s eyes still manage to glow brightly in the dark— ignited by the flames of his quirk and emotions of angst from the past.

they flicker as he looks to you, pale skin illuminated by the silver moon slipping in from your balconies, scars as enticing as ever. tentatively, you reach a hand out to cup his face, not kidding the apprehension that paint his matured features even as you run your fingers down the scars on his jaw. “been a while since we’ve been like this,” is all you can muster up, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek while your free hand snakes between your bodies in an attempt to pleasure the man.

fear strikes you right in the chest, leaving you panting as dabi flips you onto your back quickly, pinning your wrists against the bed. “don’t,” he growls, almost feral in tone and in his eyes. “don’t do something you might regret in the morning.”

you lay still, staring at the man above you in an attempt to read him. doing so had always been hard, but tonight you can see every detail of his life and every part of him. the fear of being his father and disappointing another group of people, a broken man torn between the people he loved and the life he led— you could finally see him. you wondered if it hurt him to be away from you and his child, if he ever thought of you.

you take a deep breath, fabric of the sheets fuzzy in your ears as you shake your head up at him. “i could never regret being with you,” you sigh, dabi’s gaze lowering. “i just need you...”

your proclamation is all the permission dabi needs before he ascends on your neck, almost whimpering at the taste of your skin against his tongue. you know that he’s avoiding your lips, scared that things may not feel the same if he kisses you there— as if your love might have fizzled out from the months that you’ve been apart. the villain’s mouth is hot against your skin, sharp teeth sinking into the column of your throat— it’s not hard for him to find the spots that make your back arch and body tingle, the dark haired man would be embarrassed to admit that he had your body mapped out in his brain. you were all that he thought about in the months between then and now.

you miss his lips, but you fear that if you push your love to far he’ll clam up and withdraw from you completely. you can’t lose him while you have him now. in the meantime, your bodies press against one another hotly, burning while dabi paints shades of blue and purple deeper than his eyes against your flesh before lapping at each love bite with an odd tenderness people wouldn’t think he possessed at first glance. as he works, touya loses grip on your wrists, allowing them free roam across the expanse of his back.

your nails leave light tracks across his back, trailing up from his muscled back to the nape of his neck— curling in the white roots of his hair in an attempt to tug him up to your lips. “baby,” the old pet name tumbles from between them before you can catch yourself, laboured from where you’re short of breath. “please kiss me, please..”

with newly mussed hair, dabi is still for a moment before leaving one last mark at where your jaw meets your neck— wet tongue lolling over the fresh bruise while his large palm move back to cup your head. a thumb belonging to a scared hand runs over your bottom lip, pulling the plump flesh down while he watches your face for a reaction. “are you sure that’s what you want, beautiful?” the villain chuckles into the dark of the night, pink muscle running over his own lips to wet them in anticipation. “you want your man to kiss you?”

your senses go into overdrive, desperate for any kind of contact from the man above you— he feels so close and yet, a million miles away, even with his body making its way between your thighs and your chests pressing together eagerly.

“touya—“ you breathe, barely able to finish your sentence before the man himself delves deep into your mouth. his lips move with hesitance at first, sucking on yours slightly and parting for air more often than he should but you grip him by the whites of his hair firmly and tug him further into the kiss. your tongue dances along the seam of his lips, prying them open as you seek permission for entrance— dabi groans lowly as you tug on his roots and force your way into his mouth, tasting him as if it were your last time.

you swallow each of his moans that mingle softly with your own, while your tongues dance together messily— the kiss were and sloppy as if the two of you were out of practice. your worries fly out of the window from there, it’s good to know that neither of you had been with others during your time apart instead you feel like a teenager making out with their highschool crush for the very first time. dabi’s hips rut into the plush bed beneath you both and you can tell that even the slightest touches are riling him up beyond belief— it’d been almost a year since he’d felt you against him in any way and it didn’t help that you were so ready to accept him.

that you still wanted him.

whimpering at the thought, the villain pauses against your lips to catch his breath— panting softly. you can feel him pulling away, questioning if he deserves to be with you after everything he’d put you through. so, cupping dabi’s jaw, you let your free hand slip between your heated bodies and glide your fingertips along the waist band of his sweats.

“yn, i ain’t so sure about this,” dabi sighs, body twitching at the proximity of your hands to his hardness, his eyelids flutter shut and lock away his beautiful blue eyes— holding fear, insecurity and desire. “what if ya’still regret this later on?”

smiling up at him, you thumb at his cheek and work your hand deeper into his pants, past his underwear. “you’ve been away too long baby, i would regret not being with you more,” you coo up at him just as you grasp at his hardened length, watching as dabi shudders in your grip. his cock leaks hotly against your soft palm from going untouched for so long, your fingers explore him— tracing down the thick veins on the underside of his length. “let me make you feel good tonight.”

“fuck, sweetness. talk pretty with that filthy fuckin’ mouth of yours.” touya breathes heavily against your mouth, both of yours falling open in hot moans. cheekily, you run a thumb over his tip, circling the slit at the top. dabi collapses on top of you, burying his mop of salt and pepper hair into your neck as he drives his hips into your hand at his own leisurely pace. “y’better live up to those words—shit, don’t go letting me down, princess.” jade orbs finally open, heavy with lust and desire as the air around you tingles with a newfound desire to make each other feel good, settling on the planes of your marked and scratched skin.

your grip around dabi tightens while he fucks into your closed fist, wet sounds filling the room from where he leaks at his bright red tip— almost hot as his hands that dance up your sides and tenderly touch at your hips. so unsure, yet so needy. clear, thick precum guides the movement of your hand as it slides up and down your lover’s girth— he’s much bigger than you remember, swollen with an impending orgasm and dabi stutters when you reach further down his boxers to grip at weighty balls full of his seed, just about ready to burst.

he howls from deep within his chest, the noise only muffled from the drool that glides across his tongue before the villain’s wandering and scarred palms stop at your rib cage, settling just under your breasts. you don’t bother to stop pleasuring him even as his quirk ignites, blue flames burning right through your night shirt to expose your skin to the cool night air. without even a second thought, dabi’s mouth ascends on your tits, taking one into the hot cavern while his free hand seers marks over the other.

the thought have being branded by your man makes your hips jump and your hand squeeze his cock in your grip— a reminder of what’s to come later on. his strawberry tongue rolls across your hardened nipple and you yelp in surprise with the sudden feeling of cool metal across the exposed flesh. “y-you have your tongue pierced?” you squeal as dabi repeats his actions, loving the way you arch your back into his mouth and your heart rate speeds up.

“never know when a bit of metal’s gonna come in handy, sugar tits.”

you barely have time to formulate a response before your boyfriend’s mouth is back on you, biting and sucking and marking your raw flesh like a man starved of his last meal— you don’t let up either, quickly pumping his cock as he continues to leak, painting your hand with teases of his incoming release. you’re sure that his sweatpants and the sheets below you will be stained with his arousal from how much precum oozes from his dick, slicking up your hands and creating the perfect flashlight but you don’t dare to think of anything else but the way dabi’s face twists with pleasure as he desperately thrusts himself into the softness of your palm.

his cheeks flush red, globs of drool connecting the roof of his mouth to his tongue while his eyes grow fuzzy at each step he takes closer to orgasm, the very drool from his mouth covers each of your breasts as dabi switches between them— creating a layer of wet against your supple skin that shines under the moon. you flick your wrist around him, faster, harder— giving the villain everything you’ve got to make him feel good.

“shit pretty girl, y’gonna make me...cum,” touya shakes in your grip, eyes crossing and tongue becoming lazy against your marked up chest. his salvia pools against your skin while he pants and fucks your wet hand as if it were your pretty little cunt clamping down on him. “fuck, fuck, fuck. don’t you fuckin’ stop, don’t you dare fuckin’ stop...”

he barks out the demands, but there’s a neediness to his tone and whine to his voice that makes you grin with pride, even if you’re barely there from having your nipples stimulated beyond belief. “cum for me touya, please, wanna feel you come undone for me.” you beg him, ever so slightly and it’s just enough to push the villain over the edge, sending him into an earth shattering orgasm. you don’t dare to stop as you jerk him off, guiding down from his high as his cock twitches from release and paints your knuckles with the thick white of his seed. he mewls contendly into your breasts, slowing his hips while the world of colours dance behind his cerulean eyes.

“here with me yet?” you murmur to him, grasping his wild locks to tilt his head up towards your face— dabi looks so blissed out but the smirk on his raw and bitten lips tells you the night is far from over.

pressing a searing kiss to your sternum, your boyfriend’s pierced tongue makes yet another appearance as he trails the muscle down your soft tummy— biting your navel as he goes. “never left gorgeous, but don’t you fucking dare think for a second that this is over, y’got that?” he sits up quickly, grabbing hold of your doughy thighs and using them to pull you down the bed. the pads of his fingers start to burn marks into your skin, dancing along your legs and stopping just above the waistband of your underwear. “gotta stretch this cunt open before i give you my cock, remind you of who the fuck you belong to.”

spreading your thighs nice and wide, you release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding as dabi’s hands finally come into contact with your slit, prodding at your slick folds from over your panties. lowering his face between your open legs, your boyfriend hums in satisfaction as he peels your sticky panties away from your pussy. “why, babydoll, you’re so fucking wet down here. this can’t all be for me, can it?” touya teases you, hot breath fanning against your unused sex while his fingers play with the string of your slick that coats them. “y’must’ve missed your man badly for your lil cunt to look this fucked up, s’pecially when i haven’t even touched’ya yet.”

you shiver and nod weakly, willing to say or do anything to feel more of your boyfriend against you. “s’all for you dabi, o-only you could get me this wet, n-no one else could take your place...” you mewl, hips bucking into the air while the man himself watches you grow needier and needier, hormones expelled into the air. dabi grins, leaning into your core once more to press his nose into your wetness, sniffing your spiked panties like the dirty man he is— only to then lay his pierced tongue flat against your folds, tracing your hole with the muscle while his nose bumps at your clothed clit.

“saved this all for me, huh? you’re so loyal, sweetness. waiting for me all this time…” he kitten licks at your cunt until you’re writhing amongst the already solid sheets, forcing his spit into your hole from over the thin fabric of your panties, creating a more prominent outline of your puffy lower lips as your thighs quieter around his head. they threaten to close as he works on you through your underwear— teasing and prodding at your sex to see if you respond the same way to his touches as you used to.

you force your shaking through his black and white locks, grabbing hold of his roots in an attempt to pull dabi back to your heat when he lifts his head from between your thighs— pushing your lips into a pout. “no, no no, baby, please— need you to eat my cunt, want your mouth on me, please!” you cry out, but you’re quickly pacified by his scarred hand which cups your pussy— seat of his hand grinding into your clit.

“god, if i had known you were still this eager to fuck me i woulda come home a long time ago, babydoll.” he chuckles, licking up your inner thigh and biting down on the plush flesh. “need’ta get rid of these though, they’re getting in my way.” the villain gestures to your panties, making you watch as his quirk burns it’s way through the silky material until it’s nothing but ash against your sheets. you gasp as soon as your cute little pussy is exposed to the cool air, missing the warmth of touya’s pink tongue against it. “better.” he sneers, eyes bright and glowing in the dark with a new sense of feral desire.

thick digits press into your tight hole at the same time touya takes to sucking on your swollen clit, forcing their way up your velvet walls in search for your pleasure spot. dabi chuckles against your sticky folds as you begin to whine, hips rolling up into your lover’s face while his tongue draws rough patterns onto your bud. you’ve missed him, missed this. the nights where the villain dabi would sneak into your home, becoming your touya todoroki between the four walls that you shared— where you would spend nights seeing stars by his hand or his cock and he would make you his over and over again. the memories have you clamping down on his digits like there’s no tomorrow, greedily sucking them in as he strokes at the walls of your sex and makes your whole body shake.

touya works hard at pleasuring you, apologising for his absence through slurping the juices from your folds only for you to gush and paint his scarred chin with more of your nectar. the way you taste makes him dizzy, he could spend the rest of his life between your thighs and never miss the outside world like he did before tonight. he wants to be good for you, make you feel good too and it’s not enough to feel the ecstasy roll off of your heavenly body in waves— he wants all of you, mind, body and soul to belong to him.

you can barely breathe, leaking with every swipe of his tongue against you and every twist of his fingers inside of you. you can feel everything at once, the euphoria crackling across your brain, high on the way touya makes you feel. “god, t-touya, don’ stop...feel so fucking good…” you heave in a drawn out moan, barely able to tell what’s up and what’s down as the villain pulls his fingers from your slick hole and replaces them with his tongue ( only after they’ve pushed down on your g-spot over and over again ).

“you’re not the one giving orders, sweet stuff, oh no.” dabi reminds you sloppily, looking like a child with no table manners as your nectar smears across his face. for his own satisfaction, he delivers a harsh smack to your pussy, watching as your entire body jolts and jumps up the bed. “your cunt is mine and i’ll do what i want with it, show you how much i missed it.”

his possessive words almost set you off, the knot in your stomach growing tighter with every pinch of your nub and every swirl on his tongue inside your walls, committing every ridge to memory. your body burns and you’re not sure if it’s from dabi pressing against you so hotly or because of the desire that fuels the fire inside you.

“yours, yours, yours!” you chant like a mantra, high pitched and whiny— your voice mixing with the crude sounds of your own pathetic cunt, that grows louder when dabi spits on your clit to add to your wetness. he lets it drip between your folds, fingers to busy with stimulating you to catch it before it slides between your lower cheeks, opting to use his tongue on you instead.

“ya’like that don’t you? missed your whinin’ pretty girl, fuck, even missed making you a fucking mess.” you keen into his touch, babbling incoherent praises to the man between your legs as he spreads you wider by the ass with one hand and forces his fingers back into your cunt with the other. his fingers curl into a come hither motion, repeatedly pressing down on your spongy spot as he sloppily makes out with your puffy nub— taking only one, two, three strokes to make your eyes roll into the back of your skull and your orgasm to wash over you.

your body convulses, shaking as you’re hit hard by your release— juices gushing all over your lover’s face even as he refuses to let up. “t-touya no...no no...can-can’t,” you whinge, tears clumping in your lashes. dabi spreads your lips again, using three digits instead of two to continue stimulating your clit until another release builds up inside your lower belly— clear liquid gushing out of your abused pussy and staining the sheets below.

he hums proudly, pressing a lasting kiss to your fluttering hole before reaching up to your lips to do the same, barely allowing you the time to catch your breath— chest heaving while you come down from your high. “so pretty when you squirt for me like that, sweetness,” dabi moans into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on him. but as soon as he comes, he’s gone— rolling you onto your stomach and lifting your hips so your ass sits in the air for him. “gonna take my cock now, kay?”

“kay,” you mumble into the sheets, brain too fuzzy to resist as the villain manhandles you the way he wants.

after shoving down his sweatpants, the eldest todoroki grips the peachy soft flesh of your ass— smacking it a few times with his heat activated palms to watch the flesh jiggle and his handprint sink into the skin. you lean back, watching over your shoulder as his cock stands at full attention, hard from seeing you come undone on his fingers and tongue. it burns bright red at the tip, another fat glob of precum making it shine and making you dribble with anticipation. “y’such a fuckin’ slut, my beautiful slut… hungry for my cock even after i’ve wrecked your lil pussy so bad,” dabi says with a cocky lilt to his voice, the very tone making your hole clench around nothing. he taps his sticky cockhead against your slit, running it up and down your cunt three or four times— groaning as it slides between your cheeks. the sensation causes your back to arch as you wail, fingers gripping the bed covers so tight that you almost cause them to tear. “don’t you worry baby, ‘m gonna make up for lost time, you don’t have to miss me anymore.”

there’s a double meaning to his words that you don’t ask him to elaborate on, too caught up in the way he teases your hole as he dips his length in— only to pull it right back out. “don’t tease, need you badly,” you plead, earning yourself another harsh spank to your raw ass cheeks.

“shut the fuck up and let me fuck you,” the words are harsh against his tongue, but dabi utters them softly as he relents to his wishes. his cerulean gaze flutters down to where your bodies begin to join, his large hand gripping his length before he starts to push into your dribbling entrance. “god, you’re s’fuckin’ tight, you might as well be a virgin.” pussy spasming at his words, you leak against touya’s cock, creating a lewd squelching sound as he pushes more of himself into you. the weight of dabi’s thick girth causes painful, yet delicious burn which he eases by rubbing soothing circles into your clit once more. “been s’long, i outta fuck you open again, huh?”

“uhuh, take me again touya. make me yours, all over again.” you slur over the spit drowning your tongue, eyes fluttering shut when the villain’s hips surge forward his dick brushes against your cervix. his rough, calloused palm grabs your neck from behind, forcing you down into the sheets while he bottoms out inside of you and pushes the last of his cock past your entrance. the two of you groan in unison, touya sitting heavy inside of your walls before you muster up the energy to say. “move.”

he doesn’t need to be told twice, whilst dabi was enjoying the feeling of being engulfed by your soft, warm insides— cock twitching in relief from time to time— he finds it within him to pull back from your selfish cunt to thrust into you with all his might. the force pulls a broken squeal from between your bitten and bruised lips, your hips pushing back against dabi to keep him inside of you. the pair of you move in sync, bodies dancing in a sensual grind between lovers that moulds your cunt into the shape of your boyfriend once more. “oh fuck yeah baby, oooh, missed your cunny s’bad…” dabi yowls loudly, listening for the squashy sounds of your sexes moving against one another. “christ, you like when i talk about your pathetic little pussy like this?”

you bite down on your lower lip, embarrassed by your own bleats of pleasure when he degrades you like this. annoyed by your lack of answer, touya grabs onto your hips and pulls you off of his cock, only to slam them back into you seconds later. his pace is unforgiving and relentless from there, forcing your body up the bed with every thrust into your core. “yes! like it, love it, missed your cock so bad touya!” you cry, holding onto the sheets for dear life as his dick drags along your pleasure spots and his hands burn marks into your ass and hips.

weakly, you attempt to match his thrusts. circling the meat of your ass back onto dabi and squeezing around the head of his girth every time it plunges into your sopping pussy. your arousals mix as he pounds away at your hole, a thick string hanging between your bodies and dribbling down your inner thighs, tainting innocent skin. the wet noise reverberates across the room, creating a passionate symphony with dabi’s deep, pitiful moans.

even though it had been a while since the two of you had been intimate like this, dabi still knew all the ways to get your body going. he took you from behind but still let his marred hands wonder and explore the planes of your skin, pinching here and there, marking your body as his to use and his alone. there’s love hidden beneath his rough touches, little signs that he missed having you so close to him— having you split open on his cock while you dripped on his pelvis and ruined your bedsheets, was his own way of unleashing his pent up emotions of love, anger and despair onto you and you wanted it. you wanted his good and his bad while he fucked you like his life depended on it, balls deep inside the pussy of the woman he loved was where he was most vulnerable with you.

“s-shit, sweetness, you’re such a pretty mess, so fucked up on my cock, can feel you clamping around me like my greedy bitch should.” you’re stuffed so full, clenching every time touya drives his cock deeper into your gummy cunt, head prodding at the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you. he’s losing his mind at how you choke out his iron hot girth, clear liquid seeping down your thighs at every thrust. “you’re my beautiful brain dead baby, letting me fuck you like this, yeah? missed you baby, missed this,” despite his words, touya is no better than you, mind hazy with thoughts of you creaming around him because of how good he’s made you feel. him, and no one else. you saved yourself for him after all these months, the least he could do was bring you to cloud nine.

he does so by angling his thrusts up to meet your pleasure spot every time, howling your name in the way he knows you like just to feel your hot cunny spew more of your juices out against his tummy. “missed you, thought about this for months,” you lament, elbows that kept you up finally giving out as your body tiredly collapses into the sheets— dabi’s balls still clapping against your ass. he follows you down into bed covers, chest pressing hotly against your back as the jackhammers into you from behind. “thought about your fat cock in my tight pussy, t-touched myself to you...made being alone worth it, made waiting for you to come home worth it. ‘cause i get to see your beautiful face when you fuck me…” you barely register what you’re saying, babbling incorrectly while the temperature of your body rises with your level of arousal.

behind you, touya’s cheeks burn with a new feeling. deep down, all he wanted was to be validated as a lover to you, he’d always been deemed as the bad guy incapable of feeling anything for anyone other than himself. but you, you had proved him wrong so many times and he still found your words hard to believe. yet, it felt good to know how much you loved him. snaking a hand down to your face, the villain squishes your cheeks together and brings you up to his own face despite the arch to your back— he keeps up his sinful pace, your lower cheeks bouncing with every push and pull of his length while he drips a globule of his saliva into your pouting mouth. “shut up,” he grunts harshly, although love is written across his cobalt eyes.

you smile up at him dopily, keeping eye contact with him as you swallow gratefully. “anything for you,” his hands slip from your squashed cheeks to your throat, cupping it as he holds you against him. more arousal pools in your lower stomach, turned on by the thrill of him being able to end your life right then and there, all it would take would be one flame but you know more than anything that dabi loves you and would never hurt you. “i love you, touya todoroki. i a-always will.”

your admission makes dabi’s heart stop in his chest, heated pants tickling your ear as he continues to take you and claim your body as his. with newfound vigor, he links his free hand with yours that lays against the bed and rams his cock into your core as hard and as fast as he can, determined to make you cum. “i—oh fuck, i love you too, sweetness…” the arsonist can feel the way your cunt flutters around his girth at his confession, tears building up in your eyes once more. god, you were so pretty like this, arched for him perfectly in the moon, stars illuminating every curve and dip on your body— showing off the stretch marks from where you’d carried his child. everything about you turned him on in the best possible ways and everything about you that turned him on, also turned out to be everything he loved about you.

your stupid big heart, your stupid big eyes when you say that you love him, your stupid smile when he used to kiss you and hold you and even now when he fucked you. touya todoroki was in love and in the worst possible way but he couldn’t say he regretted a single moment of it, not when you stayed true to him after all these months of being apart. you raised his child and you loved him all the same and a part of him is grateful that you never turned your back on him like everyone else he’s ever loved.

so the least he could do is make love to you, push his creamy cock into the depth of your core while kissing down your spine to watch you shudder oh so cutely. it’s messy and sloppy and the pair of you should feel nasty for the stench of sex in the air, lingering against your skin. but you don’t, how could you? not when love and adoration tingles in the air as well, it’s messy because of the unadulterated emotions you feel for one another— deep in vulnerability is where dabi grinds his cock slowly into you, hitting all the right places that make you scream his name into the night. makes him mumble incoherent praises against your bruised neck and squished cheeks as he lewdly licks a stripe up the column of your neck to behind your ear.

you gush around him and he grunts with ecstasy into your ear, tightening that knot in your stomach as you both step closer to your highs. “you like the way i fill this cunt up, huh? yeah? when i hold you like this, when i fuck you like this?” dabi mutters to you lewdly, holding onto his sanity by a thin thread as his own release sneaks up on him. “tell me you like it...fuck sweetness, please.”

“i love the way you fuck me touya, fuck! only you can make me feel this good,” you moan to appease him, bouncing back against his cock while his hips begin to stutter and your eyes begin to cross. it’s true, you love belonging to him, being able to bring him such pleasure and you know he feels the same way. the villain prods at your g-spot over and over again, stealing your breath away as he pulls you up and into your chest, changing the angle of his hips to bring you to the last hurdle. “baby—ohmygod—-touya! ‘m sososo close, don’t stop...don’t stop, gonna cum, give it to me, give it to me please!” you chant, eyes fluttering shut as you lean your head back against his shoulder and search for his hand, voice rising with every octave as you get closer and closer.

“fucking cum for me sweet girl, shit, cum all over this fucking cock.” dabi manages through gritted teeth, grasping your hand while the pace of his thrusts grow inconsistent.

that’s all that you need to hear before the damn breaks and arousal floods through your entire body courses through your veins. white dances behind your eyes in flashes as your release flushes out of your pussy and drips between touya’s balls, coating them in a layer your honeyed slick. you slump against your boyfriend, not able to mutter a word as you convulse in a silent scream and squeeze both his hand and cock alike.

gently, he pushes you down to the bed and pulls his cock from your intoxicating heat— his free hand clasps around his cock, palming himself towards a swift release. “yeah, oh fuck yeah, fuckin’ love you baby,” he cums on your back and your ass, thick, potent and milky seed landing on your flushed skin before he collapses beside you and exhaustion settles in his bones.

you black out for a few minutes after, fingers still intertwined but dabi manages to slip out long enough to retrieve a washcloth that's damp and warm to clean you both up with. you wake up just as he crawls back into bed with you, kissing your hairline while he makes himself comfortable. “almost thought i’d killed you for a second,” the villain jokes, slinging a loose arm over your bare waist and pulling you to lay on his chest.

“you couldn’t, even if you tried.” you counter sleepily, drawing star shapes on your boyfriend’s naked stomach. a comfortable silence sweeps over the room, despite the thoughts that linger on your mind. looking up at dabi, you notice him drifting off but still can’t help the words that slip from your lips. “why didn’t you ever come back?”

you feel dabi’s chest rise and fall with a deep sigh, fingers coming up to scratch at your scalp— something that used to help you to sleep when you were together before. “i was figuring out a way to get out of the league, to be with you and kori.” he says after some time, catching your eye as you give him a confused look. “shigaraki doesn’t know about her, i never told him. but i knew from the moment we found out about her, i didn’t want her to be a part of the life i’m involved in and knowing how the league works, they’d find a way to make use of her.”

you stay quiet, not knowing what to do with the new information and dabi’s reasoning for staying away for so long. on one hand you were grateful to him for keeping your daughter quiet and safe but part of you still wished he’d given you a sign to let you know it’d all be okay. grabbing your chin, he forces you to look up at him—passionate flames burning in his eyes. “i need you to trust me on this one sweetness, i promise nothin’ will happen to you nor kori. so long as i’m around.”

“pinky promise?” you ask him sweetly, feeling the truth to his words.

you hold up your pinky to the villain’s face, smiling through exhaustion as he rolls his eyes down at you. “pinky promise, babydoll. now get some shut eye, kay?” touya links your pinky with his, scoffing when you make him kiss them.

“g’night, touya.”

“sleep well, babydoll.”

the bed is cold when you wake up the next morning.

the panic sets in quickly, speeding up with the chirping of birds from your balcony outside. you shouldn’t be tearing up over the childishness of a pinky promise. he always made you promises but never actually kept the and as quickly as dabi had waltzed back into your life, he had left you alone and in the cold once more.

gathering yourself together, you stumble out of your bed— avoiding any mirrors that may show the cascade of marks dabi had left against your skin from the previous night. you feel embarrassed and ashamed that you let him back into your life so easily, especially now that you had kori to think about. tears start to well in your tired and puffy eyes as you head to the kitchen, thinking that a mug of coffee will calm you down before you prep your daughter for the day.

but as you wander out of your room, the familiar sound of your baby girl’s laugher drifts through the air— seemingly coming from the kitchen. the sweet melody calls out to you and suddenly your casual stride to the kitchen becomes a brisk walk so you can reach her faster. “kori? baby? did you climb out of your crib again—?” you call out to her, stopping in your tracks when you round the corner.

dabi stands in the middle of your kitchen, still shirtless, with kori balanced on his hip— in one hand he holds a small blue flame, which you’re sure he believes is safe enough for kori to play with while the other steadies your baby girl while she claps and squeals. a first. you’re not too sure when the last time you’d seen her happy was, but you figure her father’s presence had something to do with it.

“i was going to make you breakfast, but the little shit woke up and i didn’t have enough free hands to make you a grilled cheese.” touya smirks over at you, diminishing his flame to grasp kori’s hand and use it to wave at you. she squeals happily, curls bouncing and eyes lighting up in a similar way to her father’s. your heart melts at the sight of them being together, seeing the mannerisms that they share and how joyous they seem. they both grinned the same way, shared the little twitch in their noses and even their sneezes. kori todoroki was an exact replica of touya todoroki, right down to the tiny red curl she had lost in her white locks.

“you know, i thought you’d left,” you make your way across to the island where dabi sets his daughter down and check her temperature— just in case her sudden change in mood is down to any sickness. “the bed was cold when i woke up.”

“didn’t i make you a promise last night, sweetness? i’m not going anywhere,” the arsonist reminds you, wrapping his arms around you from behind while you wipe at kori’s pudgy baby cheeks and give her the once over again. “if you’re checking the kid’s temperature, she's usually pretty cold because of my mom’s quirk. something ice related will be coming through, but she must’ve inherited your strong constitution. guess she has a normal body temp when i’m around ‘cause it balances her out.” while dabi explains the inner workings of kori’s incoming quirk, she claps and babbles excitedly from her place on the island— making a game out of throwing her toys off of it. all of dabi’s logic makes sense and you seem a little more relieved knowing how to take care of her from here.

picking her up, along with her stray toys, you set your baby down by her playmat again and switch on some baby-safe cartoons while you fix yourself and dabi some coffee, kissing all over kori’s face beforehand. he had whined when you pulled away the first time to give your daughter some attention, it was almost comical how the big bad villain had pouted then. “i wonder if there’s anything of mine she inherited or if it’s all you and todoroki genetics.”

“well, her pretty smile certainly didn’t come from me, babydoll.” dabi muses with a light chuckle, arms trapping you against his chest once more as you continue to make you both some much needed caffeine. the coffee machine whirrs as you sway together in the early morning sunshine, warmth from the sun brushing against your skin and touya’s hair tickling your neck before he presses kisses over your fading love bites while kori’s annoying shows play in the background. everything feels complete and at peace. you feel like a real family. “i could get used to this, this life with you.”

you spin in dabi’s arms, cupping his cheeks and taking in his face for the millionth time in the last twelve hours. “then stay, or at least visit some more now that you’re back. you may not feel it, but kori and i need you. everything has always been better when you’ve been around touya… and i mean that. stay.” you stare at him with pleading eyes, standing on your tiptoes to stare him down and communicate just how much you needed him here with you both.

and for once in his life, touya todoroki feels the most loved he’s ever really felt. here in this shitty two bedroom apartment with his angelic little girl and his beautiful girlfriend during the winter season— touya knows this is right where he needs to be. “i’ll stay, for as long as you’ll fuckin’ have me.”

“forever, then?” you ask, eyes lowering to your boyfriend’s lips.

“forever it is, babydoll.” the villain nods, following your gaze before leaning down to capture your lips with a promise written into your sweet kiss.

extended ending

you thought that the best kind of weather was when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds but the air around you was still as cold as a december’s day. the breeze is enough to make your nose run just a little, but occasionally the warmth of the sun’s rays radiates across your skin like a warm blanket, balancing it out.

it was the kind of weather where people didn’t know how to dress, some wore mismatched shorts and jerseys whilst others were decked out in scarves up to their cheeks and sandals where their toes flopped out. it was the kind of weather that reminded you of dabi and kori, they were your warmth and your cold, they balanced each other out and made your family whole.

kori sits on your right hip as you push the car door closed and wave goodbye to an accomplice of your boyfriend’s— your driver for the evening. your little girl’s curls are combed back into two even pigtails, dark blue bows in each one while the red lock of her hair ( now, much longer ) curls against her forehead stubbornly. she looks so pretty, all fancied up a dress that dabi had chosen for her on this particular occasion, the lace irritated her only slightly but the decapitated endeavour plushie her father had gifted her served nicely as a distraction.

you bounce her once, cooing down at your baby before you look to the hospital in front of you— a look of determination in your eye. ever since the night touya had visited you and swore to stay, he’d kept his word to the best of his abilities. being a villain was still a major factor in your relationship, he came when he could stayed if his job permitted it— taking care of your daughter when your shifts were long and even going as far as to learn his and kori’s favourite recipes to cook on the nights where you couldn’t or you didn’t fancy take out.

in the last few weeks his visits had become slightly more scarce with shigaraki becoming more and more demanding, but touya’s plan to leave the league was slowly coming to fruition along with endeavour and the hero society which had both carved a life of struggle for the three of you.

your boyfriend being busy had given you more time to reconnect with the friends you had lost over the last year, meeting up with those from college, mina and tsuyu ( who’d simply thought you’d gone off the radar ) for kori’s first birthday. they absolutely loved her and your sweet girl loved all the attention she was getting. you even had the chance to reunite with your parents, who were more remorseful that you felt you couldn’t come to them for help than the fact that you’d gotten pregnant during college.

of course, they all asked who the father was and you simply told them that he had died ( which was half true ), using the excuse that you were embarrassed to be widowed and with a child at your young age.

shaking your head, you enter the hospital and recite the words that touya had made you practice the night before. you were here by endeavours orders and needed to see mrs.todoroki. your lover had used some sort of hack to put you on the list of visitors for his mother but one look at kori was all the guards and staff needed to let you through. a few nights prior to today, dabi had asked you to do one thing for him before it all went down, kissing your knuckles over some sushi take out.

so despite your nerves, you would go through with this for him, especially if it meant your family could be together. some guards escort yourself and kori to rei todoroki’s room, leaving you with a curt nod and slightly more polite wave to your daughter. the room itself is slightly bleak, a chair and some blue cushioned sofas positioned in an L-shape parallel to the blanketed bed. there’s a tv in the top left corner which and a set of draws underneath where a clear vase sits— containing blooming blue flowers.

rei looks up when you enter, grey eyes flashing with confusion despite the blank look on her face as kori babbles happily in your arms. “who are you?” she whispers, hands retreating from her flowers and folding neatly in her lap.

“oh! i’m yn, your son’s fiancé and this,” you beam kindly, further entering the room and being sure to lock the doors behind you. you nod your head down to your daughter who waves around her endeavour plushy— paying no mind to the situation unfolding. “this is our daughter, your granddaughter...kori todoroki! she’s just turned one and daddy thought it was about time she met you, isn’t that right pretty girl?”

“dada!!!”

rei blinks and you smile again. “she’s a daddy’s girl,” you explain and lift your hand to snow the small sapphire engagement ring on your ring finger. touya had proposed last night as well, certain your plan would work out. “and quite frankly, so am i! how can i not be when your son treats me so well.”

nodding slowly, the wife of endeavour looks down at her hands which you note, nervously fiddle with a stray petal. “so, natsu and you—?” you can see her trying to work it out, curiosity written across her features. you could see why the woman might think kori was natuso’s child— they looked a lot like each other just by first glance but rei was missing an important feature. the colour of kori’s eyes.

“oh no, your other son. the eldest one.” you correct her with a sinister shake of your head. swiftly crossing the room to set your daughter down in rei’s lap. you watch with an evil air of satisfaction as rei todoroki freezes with fear, as the mistakes her family paid out to touya suddenly come to the forefront of her mind. she wobbles with kori still in her grip and you shoot her a dark glare— reaching over to fix her flowers in their vase. “touya picked these out, always said that you loved them. such a pretty shade of blue, no wonder why they’re your favourites, right?”

“please leave.” she looks up at you pleadingly, shaking like a leaf in the breeze outside. oh how you wish your fiancé was here to see this but he had more important things to do.

rolling your eyes, you grab the remote to switch on the tv— pinching kori’s nose affectionately to make her laugh again. “come sit with me rei, let’s watch some tv to help you calm down.”

the woman nods weakly, barely moving an inch as you take a seat beside her with a smile. you skip channels a few times, pride swelling up in your chest when you finally land on the right one, touya’s broadcast flashing across the screen. he sits leisurely in a chair, shirtless with all of his beautiful scars on display— a painful reminder of his childhood and what he’d become. “i, touya todoroki, was born as the eldest son of endeavour. today i’ve killed over 30 innocent people until now, some to protect my family. my daughter, who i have not been able to see due to my father. i would like to let everyone know why i’d end up committing such a hideous act.” he speaks such calmness and clarity, and you can’t help but feel emotional at how he stands in front of the world.

kori grins, leaping up at the sight of her father on the screen and claps her hands. “dada!! dada!! lookie s’daddy!!” she squeals while rei struggles to breathe, panic set in her eyes.

you put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, offering her a sweet grin in an attempt to calm her before the oncoming storm. “keep watching, mrs.todoroki, touya said we’d be one big, happy family after this.” the words are sugar coated and sickly sweet, carrying the dark meaning across to your fiancé’s mother.

looking away, your heart swells while touya tears down the hero society and spills the truth for all of japan to see. you were grateful to the man he’d become— loyal to you, to your daughter and the dreams that you had. the satisfaction of seeing the real villains of the world fall was much greater than any hush money enji todoroki could ever offer.

fin.

— TAGLIST:

@husband-to-tomura-shigaraki @grace-todoroki @toshiuwu @whet-ones-write

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jingyismom · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Lan Wangji’s uncomfortable position during Sunshot

Rated T, pre-relationship wangxian, cw for harrassment, suggestive language, no other warnings, canon compliant

During the Sunshot campaign, Lan Wangji only had the reputation of being peerless and pure before the fighting began. It is entirely possible that this, plus his position and appearance, could have resulted in jumped-up heirs from lesser sects thinking him easy prey.

He came into it late, too, after leading the Wei Wuxian-finding mission with the Jiangs.

Imagine this beautiful young cultivator in spotless white appearing in a city filled with men primed for war.

Worse, imagine the fragile state of Gusu Lan and their dependence on these alliances.

Lan Wangji is politically aware, even though he's not held to the same standard as his brother. And when these men loom out of dark corners spewing lewd remarks and making even lewder requests, he wants to kill them. If the situation were different, they would come away at least maimed.

But he cannot afford to be rash. Not when the Cloud Recesses is not yet rebuilt. And he is in no real danger - if one of them tried to touch him he would feel no qualms taking a hand in recompense. So he...lives with it. For months.

Lan Xichen has other, more important troubles on his mind, there is no need to make him aware. It is just men indulging their baser instincts. It is nothing.

Except. Over time. It begins to wear on him. Its true he's only the second master of Gusu Lan, an ornament, a bargaining chip. A thing. He begins to feel like a thing. And after weeks, then months, of bloody fighting and unceasing, unseemly comments on his body, his face, his mouth - he begins to feel like a dirty one.

One night, Wei Wuxian is walking between tents during the push for Nightless City. He hears gruff voices, liquor-proud, making obscene offers not far away. He tenses and strides over, resentment rising beneath his skin. How dare anybody in this army treat a fellow soldier this way?

He comes around a corner and freezes. Lan Wangji is there, practically glowing in the black of night. Is he already taking care of the problem?

The voices continue to jeer. Lan Wangji doesn't move.

Is he...with them? It can't be possible that Lan Wangji would...hang around...anyone like this.

Wei Wuxian peers closer at him, still hidden in shadow. His face looks. It looks...weird. Wei Wuxian still has trouble reading Lan Wangji, but he knows this is...not his normal face. It's tense. Like he's angry. That, he's seen before, maybe too often. But there is the slightest furrow to his brow.

Like he's torn. Or...helpless. Which is, well. It's ridiculous. Lan Wangji is incapable of helplessness.

Still, the strangeness of it kicks him into action. He comes out into the firelight ready for a fight.

And pauses once more.

There are four men Wei Wuxian doesn't recognize facing Lan Wangji.

Blocking his path. They're saying things...the things they are saying. Are. Are far worse than any of the hushed, private joking Wei Wuxian has been privy to among friends. The things they are saying are forceful. Joyfully violent.

And they're saying them to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji's eyes snap to him immediately and go wide, but Wei Wuxian doesn't see it. His vision is bleeding out to tones of red and gray, Chenqing clutched tight in one shaking hand. He points it at the men. They laugh. They don't yet know what he is, what he can do. He's happy to show them.

He raises his flute to his lips, only for a hand to catch his elbow, to drag it back. He shakes it off. He's going to rip these sorry excuses for men into small pieces, and then make their ghosts thank him for it. He's going to--

"Wei Ying."

He looks at Lan Wangji's face, right beside him now. It isn't stern, or reprimanding. It only looks tired.

He stops. Looks back at the men.

"I was just speaking with Nie-zongzhu right over there," he lies, bringing up the only name he can think might strike fear into these animals. "Shall I go and get him, and let him hear what trash is fighting alongside him in his righteous war?"

The men scowl and leave. He turns to Lan Wangji.

"Lan Zhan," he says, confused and still unsteady with rage. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Lan Wangji says. He lets go of Wei Wuxian's arm and turns to go. Wei Wuxian catches his in turn.

"Nothing? Nothing? Lan Zhan, why did they think...why did they think they could say such things to you?" He knows Lan Wangji could have ended their lives with one strike. "Why were you letting them?"

Lan Wangji does not look at him.

"Because they can," he says. He tries to break away, but Wei Wuxian holds on.

"No," he says firmly. "They can't."

Lan Wangji turns to face him at last. "Why not? They may speak as they please to the second son of a broken clan."

Wei Wuxian bridles. "A broken - Lan Zhan-"

"If Gusu Lan is to recover, it cannot afford animosity from any who might give it aid." His voice is hard and sharp as steel. "Their words are of no consequence. Their coin is a different matter."

"No consequence?" Wei Wuxian asks. "Lan Zhan. They were saying..."

"I know very well what they were saying," Lan Wangji says, and pulls away at last. He leaves Wei Wuxian staring after him in open shock.

Lan Wangji is mortified. He tells himself he is merely concerned about what he almost witnessed Wei Wuxian do to those men, but in truth is he is shaken. Scared, and tired, and very much ashamed. That Wei Wuxian has witnessed the way mere strangers could reduce Lan Wangji so easily to nothing. For the first time in his life, Lan Wangji feels uncomfortable in his own skin. And now it is as if Wei Wuxian knows. As if he knows that Lan Wangji is just...just a blank canvas for any passing uncouth fantasy. He both is and isn't the Second Jade of Lan - He is not untouchable, not in mind, in spirit. He is neither peerless nor pure. But he is not human, either. Not real in any way that counts.

And now Wei Wuxian, almost the only person that counts, can see it.

They do not speak of it. The war rages on. They fight, side by side, and protect each other.

Wei Wuxian does his best to protect Lan Wangji off the battlefield, too. Tries to make sure he never walks past strange tents alone at night, without being too obvious about it. He knows Lan Wangji wouldn't thank him for it, and their friendship is tenuous as it is. Still, the expression he'd seen on him that night haunts Wei Wuxian. He doesn't want it to make a home on his beloved face.

After Nightless City, though, things change.

Wei Wuxian isn't respected, exactly. But he is feared. When he speaks, cultivators at least pretend to listen. They've seen now what he's capable of.

He hasn't forgotten those men. Hasn't forgotten the lurid, barbaric pictures they dared to paint over Lan Wangji's undeniable impeccability, nor the unforgivably horrible way they'd managed to make Lan Wangji feel.

But there have been other things to take care of.

Until the banquet.

After the battle, after Wen Ruohan has been killed, liquor is bountiful as cultivators and foot soldiers alike make merry, preparing to feast. Jin Guangshan, now that things are over, has opened his purse to the victors, and none of them intend to waste it.

Once Wei Wuxian has recovered, once Lan Wangji has deemed him well enough not to need healing music any longer, they lose track of each other in the busy work of cleaning out the city, of preparing to celebrate a job well done.

But when the night arrives, Wei Wuxian is hurrying back to the Jiang quarters alone to join their contingent and head to the banquet. He's late, partially because he's him, and partially because he does not want to go. But Lan Wangji will be there, and he hasn't seen him in days.

He hears voices down a parallel street. Rough and loud. Familiar.

He turns and is halfway down the connecting alley before consciously deciding to change course. Dozens of voices whisper in his ears of vengeance, of justice, and black smoke licks his skin.

He sees them, lit harshly by the bright moon, washed out, pale and ugly, leering. He doesn't care what they're doing, who they're talking to. They have to pay.

"Wei Ying."

Lan Wangji's face swims into view, suddenly close. He looks nearly wild with concern. Wei Wuxian realizes Chenqing is already pressed to his lips, the first notes of a fierce melody dying on the air. Lan Wangji is gripping his wrist.

"They are not worth your life," he says."

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to disagree. Lan Wangji's fingers tighten. Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, and looks away from his steady, grounding eyes.

The men are still there, daring to look at them. Brazen.

"You have nothing better to do than lower the value of this entire street by merely standing on it?" Wei Wuxian calls to them.

They shift uneasily. But one of them lifts his chin, defiant.

"Who are you to discipline us? We're not Jiang or Lan, you can't speak to us this way."

Wei Wuxian angles away from Lan Wangji, faces them fully. Lets the shadows grow longer all around him. Pitches his voice low and calm. "Oh? Can't I?"

Three of them begin to back away, but the mouthy bastard stands firm. "You've no claim on us nor that one. What, is ruining our celebration your idea of fun? He's been acting all high and mighty all the while we've been down in the mud. It's high time he takes a turn on his knees."

Wei Wuxian flinches as if he's been hit. He doesn't look at Lan Wangji. He can't manage it, can't believe he's allowed this to happen again.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji pleads beside him. "The banquet. Your shidi and shijie are waiting for you. Lotus Pier needs you."

Wei Wuxian's breaths have gone erratic and shallow. He cannot kill these men. He should not. It would be...there's a reason. Lan Wangji doesn't want him to. He cannot kill them.

But he cannot leave it be, either. Something dark and animal rears up inside him.

"No claim?" He repeats. "What claim could I or my sect have on miserable refuse such as you? What claim could I possibly need in order to teach you a lesson? Cutting your throats would be

counted as a service to the world. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

The man crosses his arms. One of his companions is pulling frantically at his shoulder. "Give me one good reason why I can't bend that pretty thing over my knee."

A vicious snarl rips out of Wei Wuxian's throat and he lunges forward, but he's held back. Lan Wangji is holding him back.

"Why are you stopping me?" He bites out at him. "Why aren't you ending them yourself?"

Lan Wangji is angry now, enraged, Wei Wuxian can see. Why is he still letting these men breathe?

"Because my duty to my family comes first. As does yours. Wei Ying, think. Alive, they are nothing. Dead, they are an excuse to deal a killing blow to both our sects."

Wei Wuxian clenches his teeth and rips his arm out of Lan Wangji's grasp. He's right. Wei Wuxian hates that he's right.

The resentment is burning him up from the inside with no outlet. But Lan Wangji is looking at him, holding him steady with just his righteously angry gaze.

"Well?" Calls the man, who apparently has a deathwish. "I'm waiting."

"For what?" Wei Wuxian bites out, not looking at him. "Leave if you value your life."

"Waiting for you to give me a reason we can't have him. It's just one night. Who's to know? Who's to care?"

It's a ridiculous question. Beyond ridiculous. There is no single reason - the best one is that Lan Wangji would have the perfect excuse to kill them if they did indeed try. But Wei Wuxian is past thinking clearly. He sees only the worn, tired anger in Lan Wangji's eyes.

The dark, animal thing in his chest strains against his hold, bucking and shaking, trying to get free. Trying to curl around Lan Wangji and protect him from anything that could dream of making him feel so exposed.

"One reason?" Wei Wuxian asks, then turns to look at them again. He lets the resentment free, lets it seep out into the night in curling, questing tendrils. Entirely without thinking, guided by some deep-seated, abhorrent instinct, he wraps his arm around Lan Wangji's waist. "He's mine."

He lets the thick wisps of shadows flick at the cultivators' faces, cold and burning. They claw at their own skin, crying out, and finally, finally, turn and run. The resentment chases them out of the street, and then returns to him, preening.

Once their screams have died out, and the resentment has settled back beneath his skin, Wei Wuxian comes back to himself. With a sickening start he realizes that he is still holding Lan Wangji firmly against his side. He lets go and steps away, heart pounding.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm - sorry."

Lan Wangji is staring at him, expression unreadable. Wei Wuxian cannot believe he's managed to do something so thoughtless, so stupid, so...horrifyingly revealing.

"That was stupid. I didn't mean to...I was just trying to speak a language he'd understand. I'm sorry. You're not - you don't-"

"I understand," Lan Wangji says quietly. His gaze has shifted to Wei Wuxian's shoulder. He looks strangely fragile. Tall, straight, and graceful still, but...

"No," say Wei Wuxian, "no, that was uncalled for. I should have left when you told me to. I'm sorry I made things worse."

The shake of Lan Wangji's head is slight. "No more apologies. I will see you at the banquet."

He leaves then, sword in hand, one arm neatly folded behind his back. Wei Wuxian watches him go, and can't help but feel he's made yet another fatal mistake he can't take back.

He's mine.

Lan Wangji cannot get those words out of his mind. He cannot forget the sound of Wei Wuxian's voice, the certainty in it, the firm, inarguable tone. They echo in his ears almost palpably, an illicit caress that won't let the shiver in his spine die.

He feels the ghosts of Wei Wuxian's fingers on his waist for a week. He finds himself, at random intervals, placing his own hand over them, trying to exert the exact same pressure, to feel - but it is not the same. Not without the warm, hard length of Wei Wuxian's side against him.

The alien mixture of emotions from that moment twist and mix and become ugly parodies of themselves in his dreams. He does not know what he felt, then, anymore. Does not know what he feels now.

The only thing he knows with any confidence is that every time he sees Wei Wuxian thereafter, he aches, and aches.

Aches to simply tell him that he was right.

#my fic #mdzsnet #lan wangji #wei wuxian #the untamed fanfic #imported from twitter and unedited #just thought i'd share here because the concept of lwj experiencing harassment during sunshot is...too real now that i've thought of it #idk this isn't a complete thing with a plot it's just #something that could have happened #easily i think #maybe some day i'll formalize this and use it for the lead up to yllz smut?

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nakamoto-aesthetics · 3 years

Text

Varsity Jacket | j.jh

synopsis: your highschool boyfriend has a reputation of not showing affection in public nor sharing his clothes with other girls so why was he doing those things with you?

pairing: boyfriend!jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: highschool!au, sexual themes with some fluff on the side

warning: lots of touching “you just gotta touch you know-”

word count: 2.2k

Part 1 | Part 2

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you open your locker and huff grabbing your heavy textbooks out of your locker. there was no reason for them to be this damn heavy at all. the books were only filled with a bunch of nonsense words and things you were never gonna use in the future.

if the books were filled with useful things then maybe you would let the heaviness of them slide by but for right now it was a definite no.

you grunt as the weight of the books gets heavier and heavier the more you pile on. you will never get used to the weight not then, not now, not ever.

“babe what the hell are you doing?” you whip your head around and see jaehyun walking toward you, his words bringing attention to the two of you but neither of you cared.

“what am I doing?” you asked once he was standing near you. he doesn’t say anything at first and instead takes the books out of your hand.

“carrying something heavy that’s what you're doing” he holds the books with one hand by his side. “take this instead” he hands you a jacket. you hold it up to look at it fully. eyes were staring at you two from all directions, all attention was on you. you could hear whispers from every direction but you didn’t feed into it.

‘jung 07’

“you want me to wear your varsity jacket?” you ask glancing up at him.

“yes now put it on; I want you to wear it the whole day,” he says and you take the sweater you were already wearing off, putting it in your locker. you put the large jacket on, immediately getting a whiff of his cologne and conditioner, it all smelt so good. you loved the way your boyfriend smelled. the jacket was huge on you, it swallowed you up making you look adorable in his eyes.

“that’s better, you look so adorable” he smiles lovingly. he puts your books down on the ground and your about to protest but he grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest. you squeal and he chuckles bringing you in for a kiss. your heart skipped a beat right then and there, his hands were already curling around your hips. your hands went straight to his silky brown hair. you loved to play in his hair, there was something about the way it moved and shined that acquired your attention. jae loved when you played in his hair too and he didn’t hide it either.

when he laid casually in between your thighs. sometimes you massaged his scalp with the pads of your fingers. every time you did it, it made him close his eyes and every last one of his muscles relax. you both would end staying in that position for an hour or two or until you got tired and when you did he switched places with you, ending with you in between his thighs. he would do the same thing to you but sometimes he would do a little more, putting your hair into different styles, a bun, ponytail, braids, etc.

yes, you taught him everything hair related so then he could do your hair when you didn’t feel like it. jaehyun has done your hair a substantial amount of times and he was good at doing it too, it looked as if you had done it when in actuality he did. other than that he loved to practice different hairstyles on your head and you loved that.

at this moment, jaehyuns open-mouthed kisses were making you hot in a good way; you wanted- no needed a fan. his hands traveled down to your ass and in no time he gave it a tight squeeze making you let out a throaty sound.

“baby not here” you breathily say against his lips.

“I know but I can’t help it” he grunted against your mouth and pushed you up against the locker. he pins your arms above your head with one hand and grabs your chin with the other. he moves your lips against his at a faster pace.

“jaehyun” you whine out softly making him grunt. you could feel his hard-on pressing into you by now. your heartbeat was pulsing in your ears and your legs felt like they were going weak. it got harder and harder to stand as the air got thinner and thinner.

and as if on cue he pulls away for air, breathing heavily looking at you with dark, heavy, and passionate eyes.

“we should go before we’re late” he looks at your lips and back at your eyes before stepping away to bend down and grab your textbooks. your hands slide down by your sides and you breathed heavily as you stood there trying to take in what just happened.

“babe come on” he laughed as if nothing had just happened. he grabs your hand with his free one, his other hand occupied by your heavy books.

you weren’t crazy, he acted as if he didn’t just make out with you in front of an audience. you looked around and everyone was staring at you, whispering. at least they let you know you weren’t crazy, that you weren’t just daydreaming. you looked away and continued down the hall not letting the multiple pairs of eyes affect you.

once you arrived at the classroom door jaehyun gave you your books carefully and kissed you.

“i’ll see you later princess” his thumb strokes your bottom lip and he smirks.

“see you later jae” you bite your lip at him and spin on your heel. he takes the opportunity to smack your ass as your walking into the classroom. “damn jaehyun” you yelp and look back at him. he’s looking you up and down while biting his lip and rubbing his hands together before ultimately walking away. your roll your eyes playfully and going to your seat.

as you sit down your friends were already staring at you. “what?” you look at them both.

“girl your dating the captain of the basketball team, you got him showing you affection in front of everyone and even giving you his jacket. that’s a real privilege right there” mira says.

“why is that?” you ask setting your stuff down.

“nobody has ever received that jacket before or gotten a kiss, ass slap, a single touch, nothing in public until now. you must be the one or something” seongyeon says making you chuckle.

“shut up” you laugh and that conversation ends there as the teacher starts the lesson. you couldn’t help but think about it. why did you get special treatment?

you and jaehyun had kept your relationship on the low for a while; nobody knew of your relationship up until 4 days ago. you and jaehyun have been dating for a year, you were surprised by how well you both kept it hidden. but since then the school hadn’t stopped staring at or stopped whispering about you two, it was because everyone was curious as to why they hadn’t figured it out earlier and because jaehyun had never shown PDA to the previous girls he’s dated. you were the first one so of course, it was a huge deal to the school.

it started with the hug and cheek kiss jaehyun gave you at the end of the day and then it slowly progressed to more PDA and that’s how people found out.

you received glares left and right when all the girls found out but you were prepared for it. jaehyun also told you in advance not to worry about it or pay any attention and that is exactly what you did.

today was the farthest he had gone through. with the whole make-out session and jacket exchange. we’re you that special?

once class was over you picked up the heavy books and walked to your next class. you couldn’t help but turn your head to look at the group of jaehyuns friends. there was mark lee, johnny such, lee donghyuck, lee taeyong, moon taeil, kim jungwoo, kim doyoung, nakamoto yuta, dong sicheng, and jung jaehyun. it was quite a large friend group. not all of them were athletes though, they were all known for different things;

mark lee - the sweet and talkative one

johnny suh - the chill and humorous one

lee donghyuck - the overdramatic and smart one

lee taeyong - the mom of the group and softie

moon taeil - the kind and talented musician

kim jungwoo - the unique and sincere one

kim doyoung - the kind-hearted and generous one

nakamoto yuta - the soccer player and super affection one

dong sicheng - the shy and overly adorable one

and last but not least;

jung jaehyun - the basketball player and compassionate but non-affectionate one

the whole friend group seemed super cool but not many people dared to mess with them, talk to them, anything. even though everyone knew they were all sweet. it was because they all looked intimidating as hell and if you mess with one of them you were gonna get the whole team. all 10 of them.

people have tried it before though. one time this guy picked on mark and even though mark could handle his battle, the guys weren’t having it… let’s just say that guy got his ass handed to him. from that point on nobody has ever tried to mess with any of them again.

right now they were all staring at you but for what reason? you didn’t know. jaehyun wasn’t standing with them so it only made it weirder. it wasn’t like they were glaring at you, they were just looking. you mentally shrug and look forward, making your way to class.

as you sit down in your seat, you're met with glares from multiple girls and you look away thinking that they will eventually stop looking but a few minutes later when you look up again they are still looking at you.

“is there a problem?” you speak up blinking your eyes multiple times at the two girls. this was the first time you said anything to anyone since everyone found out. you know jaehyun told you to ignore it but how could you when they were staring into your soul.

“you're dating jaehyun” one of the girls state.

“sweetie I’ve been dating him for a year now, what’s your point?” she looks taken aback by your answer but continues.

“that’s my man,” she says making you roll your eyes and sigh.

“are you sitting here bitching over some dumb ass shit like this?” you say calmly with a blank expression.

“yes-“

“im gonna stop you right there. see where you fucked up was when you stared me down, called him your man, and then said yes to that question. you made yourself look entirely stupid and now you're wasting my time and your time, so how about you do me and you a favor and stop worrying about me and jaehyun.” you said looking into her eyes the whole time, your tone was calmer than the ocean and a sunny day but you all knew underneath that was a blazing fire.

the girl looked shaken up but tried to hide it. her mouth opened and closed as she tried to find words to reply with but nothing came out. you waited for a few seconds but there was nothing said. her friend looked at her and shrugged.

“this conversation is over then,” you say and pull out your phone scrolling through instagram. ‘wow that felt so good’ you thought. it felt good to finally speak up and say something. now if only you could do that same thing with the whole school. you almost shuddered at the thought. that seemed like a nightmare but maybe with the power of jaehyun and his friends you could accomplish it.. that’s if they were willing to help you.

you’ve been around them a bunch of times, only exchanging “hellos” and ”byes” because you were too shy to hold a full conversation with them, plus they were intimidating. it was the way they stared at you all at once when you walk into the room. they always stared at you for a reason you didn’t know but you never asked jaehyun why you don’t even think he ever noticed it either-

the sound of the bell knocks you out of your thoughts and you stand up, gathering your stuff. it was lunchtime, the time you got to eat and see jaehyun at the same time. it was a win-win situation. when you walk over the door you head to your locker and place the heavy books in it. the second part of the day was the best because you didn’t have to carry anything, all of the things you needed were already in the classrooms.

you close your locker and headed to the cafeteria to see your man.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

NCT Masterlist

#nakamoto yuta #nct doyoung #nct fluff #nct haechan #nct imagines #nct jaehyun #nct johnny #nct jungwoo #nct mark #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct taeyong #nct taeil

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wolf-and-bard · 3 years

Text

Bad Reputation

Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4

Jaskier/Eskel, ~1.3k, rated T, no warnings

Written for @thewitcherbog fic train event together with @kueble, @professorjaskier, and @softdarlingjaskier so be on the lookout for their parts in the next few days. It was so much fun!! 😊💕

---

“Ta-da,” Jaskier says with a flourish of his hand, and gestures at the dress-form he has set up in the middle of the living area of his rooms at Oxenfurt, all furniture pushed to the side. The mannequin is clad in a positively stunning arrangement, an unpretentious doublet of deep burgundy with subtly golden ribbons at the cuffs and seams, a matching pair of cotton breeches. Underneath, an almost-black silken shirt. It’s plain for Jaskier’s tastes and habits, but it’s perfect for its recipient whose suspicious gaze is currently flicking between Jaskier and the clothes.

“What is that?” Eskel asks, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He’s wearing his typical red-and-dark stripe with those small spikes on the shoulders that Jaskier thinks are honestly ridiculous. Not big enough to work as any form of weaponry or defense mechanism, too dismissable to count as a fashion statement. Yeah, right. Wolves and fashion. Ridiculous.

Jaskier snorts and watches Eskel watch the dress-form, wary and uncomprehending to a point that is just adorable.

“That, my dear witcher, is an outfit. Your outfit to be precise. That is to say, the outfit you will wear tonight.” Jaskier puts on his brightest sunlight-smile, hoping it will cover up the awkwardness he can feel tightening his throat. This could have started better. But then again, this could have started so much worse. Eskel could already be out the door what with him just having arrived, swords still strapped to his back, one hand fisted around the plain linen sack he keeps most of his belongings in.

“Do I look like Geralt to you?” Eskel asks, brow raised which contorts the landscape of scars that cover half his face, stretching them out. Jaskier’s fingers itch to reach out and trace them, they always do whenever Eskel graces him with a visit to his apartment.

It’s about the only place they ever cross paths. With Geralt, Jaskier is bound to stumble into him in the most ridiculous of places and predicaments, as though Destiny wills it so. With Eskel… well. Jaskier learned early on in their acquaintance that finding Eskel anywhere takes effort, so it’s easier to have Eskel find him. The wolf sticks to himself almost all year round, avoids big cities and gets by on mysterious, long-winded contracts that take him to places most of the rest of the world has forgotten about. Jaskier has never once accompanied Eskel on one of his hunts, and that is perhaps why he often feels that a certain distance remains between them, no matter how often Eskel comes around.

And Eskel does, with striking regularity. At least once, whenever Jaskier’s staying in Oxenfurt for longer than a handful of days. He’ll always bring something too; a fine Toussaint vintage for them to share, a hearty piece of salt-crystal cheese for them to put on their bread, some pickled fish straight from the Skellige Isles. It isn’t always edible or drinkable, sometimes it’s useful like a pretty button or a new set of lute strings. There is no rhyme or reason to Eskel’s little gifts, just one thing that threads through them, and it is that every time, they take Jaskier by surprise. Eskel is so very reliable and Jaskier’s brain still hesitates to form expectations. Expectations can get crushed and he has already invested more heart into this relationship than is strictly healthy.

“Jaskier?” Eskel asks into the silence which has speeded by for Jaskier with his mind reminiscing, but which must have dragged excessively for the witcher. To Eskel’s credit, he doesn’t show the slightest twitch of impatience.

“Of course you don’t,” Jaskier says, shuddering inwardly. Outwardly, his smile freezes over.

You look nothing like Geralt, he doesn’t say though he knows that with taking away the scars and dyeing Geralt’s hair, they would look strikingly similar. There are no pictures of Eskel before, but it didn’t even need Vesemir telling Jaskier this for the bard to notice. They have the same cut of jawline, same set of their shoulders, a similar nose. But that’s artificial and if one looks closely, the similarities start to fall away pretty quickly.

You look much more beautiful than him – sorry Geralt, but it’s true, is what Jaskier also doesn’t say even though his rapidly beating heart keeps commanding him to.

“Then why would I wear this? What for?”

“Oh nothing special, just a wee little occasion, really.”

“Jaskier…”

“A-hem, right. The school-board is throwing a fancy dinner party tonight and I have been invited as a guest. I thought you might want to join me… be my partner if you will.”

Oh, but that feels daring. That feels very daring.

Eskel cocks his head, golden eyes boring into Jaskier’s. Jaskier feels his cheeks heat and licks his lips.

“Can’t I go the way I am?” the witcher asks finally.

“Ah, well,” Jaskier says and swallows. “Well, you see… there’s nothing wrong with the way you are, necessarily, but… it’s, well. They are very important people and I have a certain standing within the university. A reputation to maintain, if you will.”

“You?” Eskel raises a brow. “A reputation to maintain?”

A reputation other than drinking and whoring around, is what Eskel doesn’t say, but it is heavily implied and not even in a condescending manner. Eskel knows Jaskier the flamboyant bard, Jaskier the man with an eye for a good party, Jaskier that will drag any conquest into his bed regardless of whether there’s a witcher crashing in his guest bedroom or not. And even though Eskel’s been visiting him in Oxenfurt, in his rooms at the heart of the academy, Professor Pankratz is a complete stranger to both Eskel and Geralt. They know of him, of course, but they don’t know him.

“Yes, me,” Jaskier says. “A Professor at this university and highly valued member of several poet’s societies and bardic unions.”

“Trust a fucking academic to demand I dress up for him.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to trust anyone around here?” Jaskier retorts in what he hopes is a light note, but something has settled in the pit of his stomach at Eskel’s words, even though they were meant in jest. If this was Geralt, there would have been a deeper meaning woven into the words. In this regard too, Eskel is very different from Geralt in the manner in which he deals out his faith. He was wary when they first met at Kaer Morhen, of course; careful. But one night under the tightly-woven tapestry of constellations above the keep together, watching from the battlements while the temperature still allowed it, and Eskel turned from cool indifference to a low simmer of secretive smiles and sidelong glances. Jaskier can’t help but wonder if - for all of Eskel’s straightforwardness - there is still a hidden fuse he’s about to light up like a damn wildfire one day.

“I thought you were the exception,” Eskel grumbles and sighs deeply. Still eyeing the doublet wearily, the wolf witcher begins to pace around it, circling it as though it is a ghoul about to jump him and not his dress for the night. It would have been quite funny too, if it didn’t make Jaskier ponder so much. He doesn’t like pondering, not before an evening of events. He isn’t here to think, which would lead to dissecting, which would lead to inspiration and doubt at the same time. Jaskier has many doubts, especially when the handsomely rugged witcher in front of him is involved and he suspects there’s no glazing over them now, not when big words such as trust have been thrown this carelessly into the room.

“I hoped I would be,” Jaskier admits begrudgingly and carves out another smile, if dampened. “Will you come along then? It would mean the world to me.”

#the witcher #jaskier #eskel #jaskel #jaskier x eskel #my writing #fic train #fluff #oxenfurt #professor pankratz #dancing #alternating pov

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celticcrossanon · 3 years

Text

BRF Reading - 30th of March, 2021

WARNING: This reading involves mentions of sexual acts and uses blunt language that may be offensive. Do not read if this upsets you.

This is speculation only

Cards Drawn 30th of March, 2021

Question: Was Meghan Markle a prostitute/escort/pay for play/yacht girl? Did she sell her body for sex?

Interpretation: Yes, she did.

There are two fours and two sevens out of the six cards in the spread. Fours are a card of stability/stagnation, and Sevens are a card of challenges. The reading goes from challenges, to stability/boredom, to the Knight of Swords. Double numbers, especially two in a sequence like that, means that this energy is being highlighted so we pay attention to it.

Card One: The Seven of Pentacles. On this card we see Daedalus, the craftsman, being offered money by the Queen of Minos, Pasiphaë, to build a cow to enclose her so she could have sex with a white bull. Money, Sex. Paying people (the craftsman) to obtain sex (with a bull). This tells me that Meghan did sell her body for sex. The presence of a third party being paid to facilitate the sex (Daedalus) tells me that she may have been advertised to buyers by a third party, for a fee. The fact that it is the Queen who approached Daedalus of her own free will says that Meghan did this willingly, it was her idea. The presence of the bull and the subsequent bestiality tells me that Meghan was engaged in the ‘kinkier’ side of the sex trade, performing acts that most people would view with repulsion. She did these acts of her own free will for the money that they would bring in.

Card Two: The Seven of Wands. This is a card of challenges, of conflict, of fighting other people to maintain your position. This card tells me that Meghan had to fight to maintain her position as a prostitute. There were other prostitutes who were higher paid/more in demand than her, and she had to fight off challenges to her client base. The card also says that Meghan might have been known for rough sex, as well as the ‘kinkier’ acts suggested by the card above.

Card Three: The Four of Wands. This is a card of stability and firm foundations. It is associated with the home and with places and people that are familiar. It is also a card of celebration - an initial success has been built on and stabilised, so you have a form foundation for future work. This tells me that Meghan’s work as a prostitute was steady and gave her a reliable income. She had a steady client base and was a familiar face as a prostitute. She was able to go to parties and outings (to celebrate), either by herself to pick up clients, or with her clients. She had carved a place for herself from the conflicts and challenges of the last card, and could use this to climb to higher paid jobs in the world of prostitution.

Card Four: The Four of Cups. This is also a card of stability, but here the stability is marred by dissatisfaction. The card shows Psyche and her two sisters. The sisters are filling Psyche’s ears with gossip and derogatory speculation. People started to gossip about Meghan and her lifestyle, and the gossip was not wholesome, to say the least. She gained a reputation for unsavoury acts, sexual and/or otherwise. This is the sort of gossip that would be heard by Prince Philip (see the next card). The sisters gossiped to Psyche about her husband because Psyche never saw his face, he always came and left in the dark. This tells me that Meghan’s ‘face’ or past as a prostitute is something that has also been kept in the dark/hidden from the general public. Psyche is discontented by the gossip, she wants more than what she has. In the same way, Meghan was discontented with her status and role as a prostitute - she wanted more money, more clients, richer clients - all the thing s she enjoyed in the Four of Wands, she wanted to increase.

Card Five: The Knight of Swords. This is a card of an air sign person, especially a Gemini. Prince Philip is a Gemini sun sign. He said to Harry about Meghan: “One steps out with actresses, one does not marry them”. To ‘step out’ here means to escort someone to a party and have a good time with them, which usually involves having sex. ‘Actress’ here retains the old association of the word with ‘whore’, like calling someone a ‘chorus girl’ or a ‘showgirl’ does. This is an old way of speaking, as you would expect from someone born in 1921. What Philip is saying to Harry here, stripped of the politeness, at the most blunt and basic level, is “One fucks whores, one does not marry them”. Point taken, Sir.

Stepping Out as per the dictionary: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/step%20out

Underlying Energy: The High Priestess. This is the only major arcana card in the spread, so it is the strongest energy in the spread. The High Priestess is a card of intuition, inner wisdom, the underworld, things that are hidden. This tells me that when I comes to Meghan and her past as a prostitute, things are not what they seem. A lot is hidden in the underworld, either literally, such as the world of crime and the Dark Web, and/or figuratively, as in buried in people’s minds and memories. On the card, Persephone blocks the path from the underworld to the light of day. Someone or someones are hiding/blocking this information because they do not want it to be part of public knowledge. There are secret/hidden agendas at work here, which will involve misleading truths and talking about people behind their backs to bring them down. The people involved are hidden in the shadows, as Persephone is hidden in the underworld. The High Priestess can show that things are not what they seem, as shadows hide the true shape of things. Use your inner wisdom and trust your gut. If something seems off, it probably is. If it walks like a duck and acts like a duck, don’t let PR tell you that it is a swan. Those sort of illusions will abound around Meghan and her past.

Speaking of synchronicity, I was idly scrolling through blogs on tumblr and this post appeared:

https://skippyv20.tumblr.com/post/647052060442918912

If it walks like a duck and acts like a duck....

Conclusion: Meghan Markle worked as a prostitute. She entered the business of her own free will and stayed of her own free will. She fought to maintain her position and became a familiar face on the prostitute circuit, making a steady income from her ‘kinky’ sexual activities. She used that position to climb higher, as she wanted more money. There was a lot of gossip about her unsavoury activities, sexual and otherwise. This gossip came to the ears of Prince Philip and resulted in him warning his grandson not to marry Meghan. Her sexual past has been erased from public knowledge and there are unknown people trying very hard to keep it that way, although leaks occur through gossip and the memories of other people.

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whosscruffylooking · 3 years

Text

Instinct Part Two: Interrogations and Intrigue (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: I'm super excited for this part. Spencer and Reader’s relationship finally has some foundation!

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings! Mentions of suicide and manipulation.

(Reader’s POV)

I tap my foot anxiously as I peer around the bland and intimidating interrogation room. It looks like something out of a mental asylum in a 1980's horror movie. They want me frightened? They got me.

Count Dracula barges in abruptly and sits opposite from me. I wince at the sound of the metal chair scraping against the cement floor.

“My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner. I'd like to take a moment to get your description of the man who broke into your apartment," he shows no emotion.

I nod, "Well, he had his hood up and a bandana on, but from what I could tell, he had green eyes...maybe blue...or hazel. I'm sorry, I'm not a hundred percent sure. He was just a little bit taller than me, so maybe 5'8 or 9. He climbed out of my window, so clearly, he's at least slightly athletic. He disguised his voice; he made it sound almost like Batman."

He writes down some notes. A statement that the other agent presented to me at the crime scene puzzles me. I decide to inquire for myself.

"The other agent..." "Dr. Reid?" "No, Emma? Emily?" "Yes, Agent Prentiss." "Yes, her. She told me at the ambulance that I might be the key to solving this. What did she mean by that? This wasn't just a one-off robbery? How could it involve me?"

He purses his lips, obviously pondering the right response, "What do you know of the Nomad Boys?"

My heart rate rises, but I promptly disguise my anxiety. "You get straight to the point, don't you," I quip, "I know that they used to operate about a block from my old neighborhood growing up. A lot of people have lost their lives because of them. Both figuratively and literally."

"Are you aware of your brother's involvement with them?" Agent Hotchner examines me.

I gasp. What kind of game is he playing here? I shift uneasily in my seat, "Excuse me?"

"We have significant evidence that your brother Jeremy was involved with the Nomad Boys from 2015 until his death."

I slam my fist on the table, "How dare you. How dare you bring my brother up and implicate him in illegal activities that he had no part in. Is this what you people do? You're so desperate to close a case that you can't admit defeat in then you pin it on people who aren't even here to defend themselves?"

"You seem relatively defensive yourself. Care to explain why?" The emotionless man taunts.

"Two hours ago, I was the victim of a failed robbery, and now I'm being interrogated by the feds about my dead brother? Is that not a good enough reason to get defensive?" I clamor back.

Tears sting my eyes and threaten to spill over as I dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand, trying frantically to suppress my growing rage. He watches me like a predator to its prey. The sound of my rapid heartbeat muffles my hearing. I can feel my skin heat up with anger. I stare right back, eager to display my disdain for his treatment.

"If you'd excuse me," he gathers his files and leaves the room. I exhale shakily and hastily wipe the stray tears from my eyes, desperate to gain my composure.

(Spencer's POV)

Hotch exits the interrogation room and clutches my shoulder, "You're up. She knows more than she's letting on, even if she doesn't realize it. She will feel more comfortable with you." "Hotch...I-I feel like maybe Emily or Morgan should go in. Not me." "Why?" He glares at me. I swallow the lump in my throat.

I have a job to do.

"Forget about it," I say, stepping past him into the dimly lit room. She looks up at me with pleading eyes, silently begging me not to put her through what Hotch did. I sit across from her, noticing her obsessive picking at the skin of her fingers. Her knee bounces and lightly taps against the underside of the table.

She takes a deep breath and breaks the stillness, "Whatever it is they are thinking, it's not true. None of it is true. They're wrong."

"Y/N, I appreciate your willingness to cooperate and come back to the precinct with us and sit in here to be interviewed."

She throws her head back and laughs, "My willingness to cooperate?Interviewed? You mean interrogated, right?"

"I know this must feel like an ambush," I say, and she jeers, "but I promise if you just hear us out, the sooner we can rule you and your brother out of this."

She sits up, eyes wide, her posture defensive, "You just said my brother and me. Am I a suspect too? For god's sake, I don't even know what we are suspected of! Do you think I'm apart of the Nomad Boys too?"

Strike one, Spencer. Don't screw up again.

"I didn't mean it like that, y/n."

"But you said it," she crosses her arms.

"I need to ask you some questions about your brother's death."

"I'm going to be sick. Screw you, Dr. Reid."

I can't manipulate her. I don't want to. I can't use months of researching her to achieve our agenda.

It doesn't feel right. Why doesn't it feel right?

But for the efficiency and success of this case, it's required.

"Every day, you wake up in fear of the nightmares that haunt you each night. You live with the images of your brother engrained in your mind. The patterns he used to follow every day have now been adopted by you, most likely in an attempt to keep his spirit alive somehow. You are constantly looking over your shoulder because, still to this day, aspects of his death leave you unsettled and uncertain. You opened the door today because you were under the impression that the person on the other side would be able to offer you insight into your brother's death. He couldn't because he had another agenda, but I can. I can give you that insight; I just need you to work with me."

I watch as she struggles to fight the pain that comes from masking her fear. I got to her.

Why do I feel so guilty?

Her lip trembles as she begins to speak, "I know he didn't kill himself. That's all." "What makes you so sure?"

She releases a sob and then grapples with composing herself, "B-because he loved his family. He loved life. His girlfriend was pregnant; he was going to be a father. What kind of man who was so family-oriented and had such a bright future ahead of him would do that to himself, to his future child?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize he had a child." "Aren't you guys supposed to know stuff like that? Shouldn't you come in here armed and ready with any ammunition needed to break me down?" She cocks her head. "We do. We try to find out all vital information on our suspects and those connected with them." "That's how you know that I follow the same routine as my brother? Have you been watching me?"

I can feel a bead of sweat drip down the back of my neck; I reach my hand around to pat it off and to buy myself time to come up with a sufficient answer. She chuckles, "You don't have to answer that. I've seen you and Count Dracula in there tailing me."

My heart stops, and I swallow unexpectedly, slightly choking in the process. "For professionals, you sure don't take into consideration the fact that most people are suspicious of black SUVs now...mainly because of tv shows. Black Suburbans with tinted windows are either law enforcement or a celebrity. And judging by the fact that no celebrity would ever willingly set foot in my town, I was quickly able to determine which I was looking at every Monday and Friday from 10am to 5:30pm. You should really try getting some red cars, maybe blue, just try and blend in a bit."

"Actually," I begin falling back on my knowledge as a way to diffuse the situation, "Any vehicle, when suitably modified, can be utilized as a police vehicle, but the most prevalent are those produced or altered by manufacturers for the role of being a police vehicle."

"Validation and dissemination: am I making you uncomfortable, Dr. Reid?" She raises her eyebrow. I adamantly shake my head, "Not at all. I was merely dissecting your point and proving it to be a failed tactic to intimidate me."

She looks at me keenly, but not in the way she had looked at Hotch. No, she peers at me as if striving to convey a message, an offer to be her ally. While locked into her gaze, I can't help but study her. Contrary to all of the times we followed her, hidden within the shelter of our car, I can now learn her up close. She is attractive in a flawed, approachable way. Her vulnerability camouflages a might that even she doesn't perceive exists.

(Reader's POV)

I study him thoroughly. He baffles me. A man in the station he is, maintaining the job he has, and bearing the weight of both victims and perpetrators on his shoulders, should be coarse, bitter, emotionless, much like the first agent who grilled me. Yet, here he is, eyes lighting up when he starts to spout off facts. His nervous ticks overflow, making it seem like he is incapable of withholding the truth of what this job does to him. He doesn't want to put me in this position. He's not like the standard brute that treats this job, and it's prey as if they are nothing but a bridge to walk over to get appreciation and approval.

"I want to help you," he proposes in a hushed tone.

"I know," I whisper, easing back in my seat.

Unexpectedly, he offers me a wink and then stands from his chair. Stepping over to the door, he clasps the doorknob but delays for a moment. I look at him in anticipation. Looking back at me, he declares, "I'm going to get you answers. I promise you that." And with that, he's disappeared behind the two-way glass. A feeling of being left alone in an alternate universe overwhelms me.

Spencer is somewhere out there on the side of the good guys, his reputation untainted, with the certainty that he will be going home tonight. I, on the other hand, have lived in uncertainty since my brother died. Here I sit, on the side of the glass that is riddled with darkness and evil. Spencer lives in a world of heroes. But I have been subjected to the world of criminals. I have a feeling, though, that I won't have to navigate it alone.

Tag list:

@mcntsee

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iamdarkness · 3 years

Text

After the Storm

My Birthday gift for Alfonse's Day. I am one day late because I didn't know about it.

NSFW 18+

Lif x Summoner. A little bit of Alfonse x Summoner x Lif .

This can take place after the summoner is rescued and back in the castle. It also may or may not be part of To Feed a Tiger and Letters From Fodlan. It is all up to you.

He was standing right there, just in front of you….so close…and yet so far away. Dark blue hair and silver-ish tips swaying over his ruby red eyes, while he slowly approached you. His gauntleted hand reached slowly for you face. It was cold and smooth as leather, the metal fingernails not reaching your skin, he had made sure of that.

-We meet again. I thought you would not want to return.- You say and your face lean on his touch.

-I had to see it for my self…See you. That you were safe and sound. - He answers softly with that oh so deep voice that never fails to make you sway where you stand. It is true his voice had made you tremble from the first time you had heard it, he did not know it was not from fear. He had touched your soul from the beginning and drew you in like a moth to a flame. And what a magnificent flame he was.

The moonlight bathes you both in cool silver light, but you find the glow of his body a more compelling sight. You knew how insecure he had always been and knew that now he thought himself a hideous monster. If only he could see himself through your eyes; how beautiful you found him. You touch his face and you can hear the intake of breath he takes. His mask slips from his face and he tries to turn away. You use your other hand to turn it to face you.

-You are so gorgeous Alfonse.

-No I’m…

-No. You are gorgeous to me. I love you so much…- He looks down at you searchingly with knitted brows, expecting to find deception. How can someone like you find someone like him, attractive. He doesn’t understand and he doesn’t want your pity. Yet he finds only love in your eyes and even more than that. He can see desire and this surprises him and dare he hope?- Alfonse! Why are you like this? Why can’t you understand that to me, you are amazing and sexy! Your intellect and your skills and god Alfonse you learned a whole new sword style! You are so amazing. Even before, you always thought I liked other men better and…

-That was before…but now…

-Alfonse! No matter what shape you have, you are still my Alfonse and I find you gorgeous. Don’t you remember what I sang to you the first time we were together?I still love your precious heart …-You gasp. You were not suppose to say that and he catches on quick as smart as he is. He knows this Askr’s Alfonse and you had never been together. It had only been Death’s first attack; that had given Alfonse, now Lif the courage to leave all formalities behind and you had become lovers for the last weeks of your life. The words from that song had stayed with him and kept the little sanity he still had. His eyes blaze with that inner fire you had seen when he is either very angry or very exited. The deepest of passions have always lay hidden within him; restrained by the weight of his position and reputation. Lif had neither of those restrains.

-________. You are my _______!My Summoner!- There were so many feelings passing through his mind. He was surprised and happy and so angry too. He wanted to laugh and cry, but he also wanted to yell at you and hurt you. How could you not tell him the truth after everything you both had gone through? Did you prefer to stay by Alfonse’s side instead? Do you love him more? Is it because of how he looks? Of course you would prefer to stay with him. Whole as he is and not a monster like him.He was alive and could give you everything he always dreamed of giving you. He does not realize it, but the same hand that was caressing your face was now squeezing hard enough to hurt and his nails beginning to scratch.- Why did you not tell me this? Do you..

-I am not sure how it went. I lost my memories of my life in our Askr. I didn’t know and I did not want to hurt you and Alfonse. I know it has something to do with Breidablik. All the memories started coming when I was using it or when I was asleep.

There is a silence in which he looks deeply into your eyes. He sees no deceit in them but he has been hurt so much, he doesn’t dare believe. He sights and his head lowers to rest on your forehead. He did not think he would be able to cry any more ever, but he feels the wetness roll down his face.

-I wanted to heal you, not hurt you. I was willing to let you go and help you from afar but you never let me.

-I am here now…- He did not mentioned he was not letting you go now. He had given up his hope of saving his own people to help this Askr, and he was not going to give you up too. He kissed you now, deeply and full of need. The restrains now gone. Your hand lets his mask fall to the ground and you embrace him. He forgets he needs not breathe and you do need it and his kiss last so long you feel dizzy. You make to let go but he follows with a moan of protest that was almost a whine.

- Air…-You say and smile, while peppering his face with butterfly kisses. He gives you a low growl in return and kisses your neck instead. It gains him a moan he returns in kind. He hears your whispered plea and stiffens. He separates to look you in the eyes.

-Here?- He asks and he sounds scandalized. Nothing really changes.

-You do not remember that kitchen cupboard? Or the tactics tent after the meeting?- He splutters and turns a little away. It might just be you, but it looks like his light brightens.- They were not my ideas either.- You add and take this time to slip your hand under his belt close to where his abs can be felt by your knuckles.

-I remember.- He turns to you and takes his time looking at you. Then he close his eyes and takes his hands off your face to undo the clasps that hold his fur cloak. He lays it on the moon bathed grass and looks at you again.- Are you sure?- You nod. He steels himself and adds.- I…it is all of my body and half my face as you can see…

-Alfonse…I am not afraid of you or your glowing body. I find it perfectly amazing. Here, let me help you...-You tell him and go to help him take off his armor. He stops you and just takes his top hard armor as if by magic and is left with some low cut under armor pants and boots. You take a long look at him. As you had seen before, he had grown a lot. His chest and back were broader and even though you could see his bones there was a light in all of him that did not let you see through him. You could see his shape as If he was very muscular as well.

You were aware that you were staring, but you could not take your eyes away from him. He was so perfect. There was an intake of breath that was more a reflex than a necessity. He must have seen the desire in your gaze when you looked him in the eyes.-God Alfonse! Have you no idea what you do to me?

His shyness relents with your confession and he reaches up to you and kisses you deeply again. His hands roams your back. He kisses you until he reaches under your night shirt and you feel him lift the fabric. You are wearing nothing under and he caresses your skin on his way to lifting it off of you. When it is off, he looks down to you perked up breast. They had hardened with need and the night breeze. You feel his heated gaze on you as it explores once again your chest. His hands take hold of you pants as he pulls them down he leaves a trail of kisses down to your hip.

He gets up again kissing your body up to your neck. Your thigh, hip, lower abdomen, belly, between your breasts, chest, neck. All the while his hands trail up your side and back, like the sweet caress of flower petals.

His mouth reaches yours and his right hand takes your breast and squeezes gently, gaining a moan from you. He hungrily kisses you harder and starts lowering you down to where his fur cloak waits for you. You feel the weight of his body, the firmness of his glowing skin, soft and cool against your heated one. You shiver, not precisely because of the cold. It had been so long since you wanted to touch him and be touched by him. So long since you wanted to tell him how much you love him and how much you needed him.

He has taken your panties off along with his pants and now his head is between your tights and he kisses your womanhood. His tongue starts twirling around the pearl of your clitoris. His sparkling red eyes find yours as he gives a growly moan.

-Already so wet for me ______. Tell me how much you want me.- He licks at you. You had forgotten this man went from hiding his face out of bashfulness to pounding you vigorously into the mattress. He was a possessive, kinky, dominant lover with the drive to make love to you all night and the daring to take you in the riskiest of places.

-Oh …I want you please! I need you! I have waited so long for you! Mmm…aah- He introduces a finger inside you and then the second. You see him smirk while you moan and squirm.- Oh please! - His fingers go in and out in a merciless rhythm while he bites the inside of your legs, your hips, your stomach, suck at your breast and then bites you neck.- Aah …Alfonse please!- He growls at that.

-Not Alfonse!Alfonse is a child! Say my name! Say it!

-Mmmm Aaah! Lif! Lif Please! I can’t…I …- He has you seeing stars and the way he talks to you in your ear is enough to make you come. You shudder and moan his name again.

-Yes. Come for me ______- You are still shivering when you feel him lift your leg and position himself between your legs.- Are you ready for me?- He asks in your ear; then bites it. This ignites the fire within you once again.

-Yes. Please. I need you.

He looks into your eyes. -We will become one. Do you accept me? Will you be mine once again? Will you re-new our vows? - He asks, his voice full of emotion make your heart melt. You feel this moment as if this was a promise. Your wedding night. No going back. Your eyes water. How can you say not to him. The love of your life. Once you had pledged to be with him in a” till death do us part” promise. Now you knew he had gone beyond death and so had you. If there was a” for ever”; you wanted it to be with him.

-Yes. Only you. For ever.

He kisses you; tenderly this time and just as tenderly you fell him enter you. Here ,now while his hips moved so sensually against you, and he kisses you like it is the fist time; you feel him become Alfonse once again. The man that had asked you once, to promise him to never leave him. The man who had promised to never be with anyone else but you. The man who had said his wedding vows before making love to you for the first time, because there was no time to have a wedding.

He moves inside you while he utters your name like a mantra, proclaiming you as his. You respond to him that yes, you are his and cling to him for dear life because this is too much, too fast for you. Soon enough you feel the pressure build inside you and you climax again. He stops a second and gives a small rumble of a laugh.

-My _____. As passionate as ever. -He feels you shiver against his flesh and your moan of release was silenced with a long kiss. Suddenly while still kissing you he starts moving, but this time faster to reach his release. His moans are, so sensual to your ears.-You are so warm. Come for me again dearest! Come for me! Only for me!

-Oh Lif you feel so good! You are so good! - He came undone with this. He bit your neck long and hard enough to bruise and you came again right there alongside him, while he reached into the deepest part of you and you call his name.

You both ride your high clinging to each other, entangled like ivy. Your hands roam his strong back in a soothing motion. He hides his face in the crock of your neck and you hear his whispered plea.

-Run away with me. - Oh how you wish you could. You hug him tighter.

-I gave him my word. I will leave with you once the war ends.-You tell him.

-You can not return to him after this. Stay with me.

- I gave you my word. I am yours, but I need to save this Askr. I can not fail twice. I will not. I swore to you to serve you till death and I did. I will fulfill my promise to him and I will return to you. Please let me do this. If we play this right we can save this world and return ours to life.

-Ours.- he says with emotion.- I knew you would say this.- He kisses you and then he kisses your ear. Once he is close enough he whispers.

-The gods are plotting to end us. They specifically want to end Alfonse’s line. I am working with them to find their weakness. -He makes a shushing notice when he feels you stiffening.- Do not tell him anything, but prepare. Trouble comes and it comes fast.- He kisses you again and then he keeps on whispering.- I will come to you. I promise.

He separates from you and say coldly. - So you will not come with me?

-No. I… I am sorry Lif.- You play along. He just nods and gets up. You are left there feeling cold and empty. He starts dressing up and you do the same. Once you both are again standing dressed and ready to leave; he takes your cheek in his hand and with the other he touches the bruise left on your neck.

-Does he know where you are?

-Yes.

-Now he will know who you belong to. Although this will not deter him, I know him well enough to understand this.- He sighs and turns to leave.- Until we see each other again Summoner.

He does not turn around and he is gone.

~*~

You stand looking out of the window. Children run around laughing in the garden. A strand of hair comes undone from your bun and tickles your cheek. You feel a hand take the graying strands to tuck it behind your ear. You turn to see deep blue eyes watching you fondly. Alfonse’s blue hair is graying too. He looks out the window and smiles. Among your grandchildren a tall figure stands up (1). Lif’s dark blue hair swaying in the winds while he talks to a young man that looks remarkably like a young Alfonse. He looks down to a child clinging to his left leg. A blond haired and greed eyed girl of around five years. He picked her up and she giggled. His face turns to look at you and his crimson eyes twinkle in the sunlight. There is happiness and love in them. You blow him a kiss and Alfonse chuckles at your side.

With how endless you had felt the war, you never thought you could reach a happy ending and here you were. In that moment; there was only happiness.

1. It is my belief that anyone as a summoner would find that there were a lot of casualties of war and many orphaned kids. Used to so much people in the castle and with most of the heroes gone; the summoner opened up an orphanage and ended up adopting some of the kids, along side of whoever she married. At the end it is not only her biological grandchildren, but also the kids of her adopted ones.

#feh #feh fan fiction #feh alfonse x summoner #feh alfonse x reader #feh alfonse x kiran #feh lif #feh lif reader #feh lif x summoner #feh lif x reader #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem heroes #alfonse x summoner x lif #feh lif x kiran #feh kiran #feh summoner #fire emblem fanfiction #kiralfonse

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spicymayo1983 · 3 years

Text

Hiya. If you haven't yet seen the 2013 erotic thriller In Secret starring Elizabeth Olsen, Oscar Isaac and Jessica Lange I highly recommend it. I've watched it twice in the past month. Lol.

Oscar's character Laurent Leclaire is so sensual, so devious that I decided to write a short, filthy little fanfic starring you, the reader, and him.

Laurent is sexy evil personified, sigh.

The setting is 1860's Paris. The story takes place before Laurent meets Elizabeth Olsen's character Therese. You are a young (nothing illegal, you are 19) virgin artists model that gets seduced and absolutely ravished by the dominant, more worldly Laurent one evening in his studio when you are posing for him.

Warnings, female receiving oral sex, dominance, frank descriptions of painful virginity loss, rough sex, language, not for anyone under 18. Just pure, gratuitous, thirsty smut. Lol.

But it's set in the Victorian Era so that makes it classy? Lmao.

Touch and taste

Things started out fairly innocent enough. You met him at your older sister's dinner party one evening.

He is a friend of your sister's husband, they went to school together.

Your sister is much more outgoing than you and at 19 you are still unmarried, having never even held hands with a man before.

You live with your sister and brother in law in an old but tidy home in Paris. You are middle class and the home is well decorated and furnished. Your sister is expecting her first child and you are looking forward to helping care for the infant.

The two of you have a warm, loving relationship.

Even for the Victorian Era you are painfully shy, your sister had to beg you to come to her party.

There are several single men there and she's trying to find you a suitor, a potential husband.

He was an artist, and his name was Laurent Leclaire.

You sat across from the mysterious, brooding man and as you attempted to make small talk with the other guests you couldn't help but notice from the corner of your eye how he looked at you.

It was like Laurent was studying you, taking in your shy, delicate beauty. When your eyes finally meet he flashes you a devilish little smirk that sends a shiver down your spine.

Your face turns bright red and you immediately look down.

In the glow of the candlelight you can make out his absurdly beautiful chiseled features. His curly hair, dark eyes, and of course that smile. He made you feel things, unfamiliar feelings that terrified you somewhat. You feel a twinge, an ache, coming from somewhere inside of you. Somewhere where good, Christian women don't normally get those feelings

"Oh dear, what's wrong?" Your sister asks, noticing your flush.

"It's nothing". You reply quickly with a nervous giggle.

"Perhaps I've imbibed in too much wine, I'll be fine".

"Oh my it's getting worse!" The older lady sitting next to your sister exclaimed.

You happen to catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror hanging on the wall across from you. Indeed the flush has gotten worse, your pale cheeks are as red as cherries.

"Let's get you upstairs". Your sister insists, helping you get to your feet.

"No I'm fine". You reply, sounding slightly irritated.

"You look terribly unwell". Your sister continues. "Come with me".

You reluctantly follow your sister upstairs to your room. You have to pass the handsome stranger on the way by, and you could have sworn you felt his hand brush yours, and then down the soft velvet of your skirt.

Once upstairs your sister helps you undress. You crawl into your bed and she brings you a cup of warm tea.

"You have a fever". Your sister frets as she lays her hand on your forehead.

"Quit fussing over me I assure you that I'm fine". You reply, smiling a little as you begin work on the embroidery project that was waiting by your bed.

"How am I ever to find a suitor with you making me leave the party early?"

"There's noone suitable there". Your sister replies sharply.

"What about the dark haired gentleman across from us?" You inquire, a slight smile creeping across your face.

"His name is Laurent and he is nothing but trouble". Your sister snaps back. "Stay away from him, I mean it, he will ruin your reputation".

Your sister's harsh words surprise you a bit, but you now have a name, Laurent, and you are also intrigued by your sister's stern warning.

Ruin my reputation? What on earth does that mean? You wonder as you nod off to sleep.

The next morning you are awakened by the familiar smell of food cooking and the sound of men talking. Sleepily you leave your bedroom and step into the hallway.

It's him again. You catch a glimpse of Laurent talking to your brother in law in the foyer. You immediately duck back into your bedroom and hastily get dressed.

You dash down the stairs quickly, brushing past Laurent. You look at him and flash a shy smile, he smiles back warmly.

You enjoy a nice leisurely, breakfast with your sister, brother in law and Laurent. You catch him glancing at you again, your face turns a light shade of pink.

Afterwards Laurent catches you alone in the foyer. You formally introduce yourself, Laurent kisses your hand.

"Your features. They're so classically pretty, like a sculpture". Laurent tells you as a rather seductive smile appears on his handsome face.

"I'd like to, if you wouldn't mind, paint you".

You giggle nervously at his proposition as your face turns pink. Laurent gently touches your flushed cheek,

you look at him and say nervously, "I'll do it".

"Wear that beautiful velvet dress you had on last night, and the pearl earrings too". Laurent replied, looking into your eyes.

The next afternoon you nervously arrive at Laurent's small flat/art studio, which was only a short walk from your own home.

As soon as he opens the door he smiles brightly and takes your hand. He leads you to a small room, where you sit on a chair in front of an easel.

Laurent sits next to you, looks deeply into your eyes and says,

"Tell me more about you, y/n, I like to learn more about my subject before I paint them".

"There isn't much to say really". You reply quickly, your face turning bright red again. "I'm 19, from Paris, I love my sister and brother in law. Both our parents passed years ago."

"You get embarrassed around the opposite sex, don't you?" Laurent pressed, taking your hand in his and stroking it. "You're so innocent like a child, but at the same time I know you're curious".

The man has read you like a book, you gasp a little at his words and start to tremble noticeably. Laurent leans over and kisses you gently on the cheek.

"Can I kiss your beautiful lips?" He continues, his breathing changing a little due to his own arousal.

"I've never done this, kissing". You reply, the heat from the lower part of your body becoming almost unbearable. "You'd have to show me".

"Open your mouth a little bit". Laurent orders, stroking your cheek with his strong hand. "Follow what I do".

He passionately kisses you using his tongue, you're shocked but quickly mime what he is doing. One of his hands drifts to your lap and he starts to stroke the wetness that is hidden by your pantaloons.

"Undress for me, I want to see my beautiful subject, all of you". Laurent orders, not asks.

You are so caught up in the moment, in him, that you obey his commands.

Noone has ever seen you like this, male or female. Well, maybe your sister. Definitely no men. You are trembling a little as you stand before him.

Laurent uses a paintbrush to trace and tease your body, you can see his hard manhood through his trousers.

"Let's go into my bedroom, I want to touch and taste you". He orders.

You go into his bedroom and recline on his bed. Laurent undresses, revealing his lean, muscular body.

His hard cock looks massive, intimidating, you've only seen them in medical journals and you've had no idea that they were this large in person. Perhaps it's just his own personal endowment.

Laurent kneels between your trembling legs and gently spreads them.

"It looks like an orchid, a fragile, pink orchid, it's so beautiful". Laurent tells you as he teasingly massages your intricate folds that are peeking through a thick patch of hair with his fingers.

He leaves you for a moment and grabs a sketch pad, he uses charcoal and quickly sketches your womanhood. When Laurent is done he shows you, you gasp a little and say, "I've never seen this side of myself".

"Can I touch and taste your petals?" Laurent pushes, you can see the desire burning in his eyes.

"Taste? What do you mean?" You ask, innocently having no clue what he means.

"Let me show you". Laurent purrs, leading you back over to his bed. "Tell me where you want my tongue".

You relax on the bed again, you gently spread your legs and he kneels before you and spreads them further.

He touches his tongue on your sensitive bud, causing you to immediately tremble from pleasure.

Laurent begins to suck and lick your frilly inner lips, you moan with delight from the intense sensation that you are feeling spread throughout your body.

What he's doing to you feels so good yet so sinful, and dirty.

Laurent's tongue moves down further, and he hits a barrier, your hymen is still intact and fairly thick, he gives it a gentle little flick with his tongue.

He then buries his face into your hairy mound, taking in your sweet, musky scent, the tip of his nose brushing against your wetness.

Your scent makes him moan from delight, Laurent is showing you just how much he savors and appreciates the female anatomy.

He teasingly strokes your innocence with his finger, being extra careful not to penetrate it or break it.

It's almost like he's in awe and aroused at that little barrier.

"My cock needs you, I need to feel this". Laurent begs, you can see the precum oozing from his hard tip.

"It's for my husband". You reply quickly and nervously.

"Noone cares about that anymore, especially in this city". Laurent tells you with a quick laugh.

You are so worked up and attracted to him that you relent, he spreads your legs again and positions himself on top of you.

Laurent starts to enter you, you gasp and sputter in a mixture of agony and pleasure as he slowly penetrates you, both of you can feel the moment your hymen breaks, spilling a considerable amount of blood on his sheets.

"Does it hurt?" Laurent asks.

"Yes". You reply, tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Good". He replies, thrusting into you harder.

With your legs wrapped firmly around his waist Laurent fucks you, hard. The pain quickly turns to pleasure as you become more comfortable with his body.

When he cums he fills you with a fairly large load as he moans and sputters. Afterwards Laurent spreads your legs again, and sticks his tongue deep inside of you, tasting a mixture of your juices.

Your sister is correct. If Satan himself walked the earth his name would be Laurent Leclaire. The man is so virile, so charming and so handsome that even you, the shy, innocent virgin relented to his charms.

Afterwards with his help you get redressed. As he's lacing you into your corset Laurent gently kisses and nuzzles your neck, muttering about how beautiful you are.

You sit with him through the night and he does indeed paint your portrait, as promised.

"You touched my hand and dress when I was walking by at the dinner party, didn't?" You ask, your face turning pink again.

"Of course". He replied, chuckling a little. "I wanted to see if you were as soft and delicate as you looked. Your silken hand felt just like the beautiful fabric of your gown".

"Why the pink background?" You continue, smiling a little.

"The pink represents the blushing of your cheeks". Laurent explains, sounding like every bit the serious artist. "And the colors of your beautiful petals, you are truly a masterpiece of God's creation".

The end

#in secret #laurent leclaire #fanfic #fanfic smut #fanfiction #long post #reader insert #smutty #smut tag #oscar isaac fanfic #oscar isaac

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allthingskakashi · 4 years

Text

• YEARNING •

[ Kakashi x Reader]

Summary: A sparring session with Kakashi takes an unexpected turn as you reunite after years.

Tags: Smut

Words: 3.3k

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

You shift the angle of your stance, trying to assess the best position to attack from. You see Kakashi a few feet away, trying to do the same. His eyes are contemplative, focused. Both of you wait in anticipation of the other’s attack, reading each other’s every move carefully.

The two of you have been at this for a while now but neither of you has been successful in throwing a direct blow at the other. The air surrounding you is humid. Beads of sweat are beginning to form on your forehead.

A smile escapes your lips. This brings back so many memories.

Images of a young skinny kid flash through your mind. A younger rendition of the man standing in front of you now. You’ve known Kakashi since childhood. The two of you went to the Academy together. You were the only one in your entire batch who could match his speed and strength. Kakashi was never much of a talker, he liked keeping to himself. But the two of you shared some memories. Most of them are from when you trained together, although that was never a planned encounter. Usually it would be whenever the two of you ended up being in the training spot at the same time. You had the same training spot as Kakashi’s and sometimes your timings collided. And in those times, the two of you decided to spar and most of the time it ended up just like right now. With the both of you unable to land a single blow on the other. It was frustrating and the exertion was immense. By the end of it you’d usually be so tired, you’d just sit side by side resting for a while, watching the horizon in silence, letting the cool evening air soothe your warm skin. It was a strangely pleasant memory.

Kakashi’s voice breaks your chain of thoughts. “Giving up already?”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “I’ll make you wish I had”, you say, charging forward towards him, kunai knife lifted, ready for attack.

Kakashi corresponds your move, and within a few brief seconds, the two of you are face to face, your own kunai knives in front of your faces, blocking the other’s. You sigh. Yep, just like old times.

You make your other hand into a fist and throw a punch directed at Kakashi’s stomach. He blocks it. Clasping your fist in his palm, he flips you around with force and hurls you away, making you go sliding backwards, creating a trench on the ground as you go, to hold your balance. He comes near you in a single leap and you see him pull his fist in, getting ready to throw a punch. You somersault backwards but he catches up, wheeling around ahead, and throws a roundhouse kick to your head. You swiftly lift your arm to your side and block it with the back of your hand. He has the knife ready and you see it come swishing towards you. You swing the arm blocking Kakashi’s kick sideways to fling his foot away and immediately raise your own knife for attack. The metals clang as your knives block out each other’s. Again.

You can’t help but notice how toned his arms are as he stands so close to you. The bulge of his bicep. The veins in his forearm. You feel your stomach flutter. Whoa this is new.

Even though you considered Kakashi a formidable opponent in terms of skill, you’d always known him to be rather cocky and rude to others. But looking at him now, you could see a change in his eyes, a difference in his demeanour. You could tell he is not the same guy he once was. Well...how could he be? After everything?

You hadn’t been in touch ever since you left the village after your parents’ death but you’d heard things. About his father. About him. Kakashi the friend killer, Kakashi of the Sharingan. So much must have happened in his life to change him. His reputation preceded him. Praises of him as a shinobi were sung across all the nations. You’d hoped that somewhere along the line your paths would cross again. But it never had, until now.

You belonged originally from the Hidden Mist, although you always considered The Leaf to be your true home. Back when the Hidden Mist was in cooperation with The Leaf, your parents were sent here on a few years’ mission. That’s when you were born. You grew up here and studied and played with all the other Leaf Village kids. It was the only home you’d ever known. But after their deaths, you were sent back to the Hidden Mist. And now again, after all these decades, you had the opportunity to come back.

And coming here again in your old spot today to train, running into Kakashi, seeing him after all these years, sparring with him…you felt like you were home again.

But this isn’t the same cocky Kakashi you once knew. For starters, he’s become hot. Crazy hot. It took you a little by surprise when you first saw him again. And of course, there’s the change in his eyes.

“Y/N.” Kakashi’s voice brings you back again.” It looks like you may have softened up since the last time we met.”

Retracting your kunai, you take a few steps back, strategizing about your next move.

Kakashi lunges forward again. You duck down at the nick of time just as his kunai is about to make contact, and slide through between his legs. “I’m sorry, you were saying?” you raise a smug eyebrow.

Kakashi turns around and you notice a twinkle in Kakashi’s eyes. He’s enjoying this.

You stand up and charge towards him again, kunai pointed in his direction. he deflects it with ease. “The same trick again?”, he says, making himself sound bored. The you in front of him poofs away in a quick cloud of smoke as the real you appears behind him, knife to his neck.

“Shadow clone. I see.”

“Uh huh. Got you”, you say triumphantly, preparing to make another remark when the man in front of you vanishes, leaving a log in his stead.

A substitution. Of course. Kakashi’s classic move.

A voice appears in your ear, behind you. “Not so fast.” Dammit.

You can feel his hot breath on your ear. You try to move away but you find yourself unable to. Kakashi has you tied up with an invisible thread around your body, with the end of the thread held in his grip. Your arms are wound tightly parallel to your sides so you can’t move them. That’s fine, you think, reaching for the kunai kept within the bandage on your right leg, in reachable distance from your right hand. You take the knife out and swirling it between your middle finger, index and thumb, throw it high up in the air behind you, through the distance between you and Kakashi.

It comes back down, pointy end sliding across your back, cutting the loops of thread with fine precision as your clothes remains unscathed.

“Not bad”, you hear Kakashi say behind you.

The both of you are drenched in sweat now. The sun is blazing above you.

Kakashi takes several steps back readying himself as soon as you turn around to face him, freed now. “So you like me tied up, do you?” you say, smirking.

You can see that the comment takes Kakashi by surprise. You use this moment to direct three shurikens at him.

He gathers himself almost immediately and moves out of their way but you throw three more in the direction in which he moves. He bends backward to get out of their trajectory but not before they make slight contact with his vest, shredding it up in places and leaving a gash in the t shirt underneath. He steadies himself, an amused look in his eyes. He takes off the shredded vest and lets it fall to the ground, panting a little.

“Well, I just did you a favour. It was getting too hot for that.” you say, subtle hints of mischief spreading throughout your voice and all across your eyes.

“Oh?”, Kakashi says, matching your tone. “In that case, allow me to return the favour”.

In the sudden blink of an eye, before you can even react, you notice a few shurikens approaching you. You crouch, but it only causes one of them to make contact and cut a slit through the front of your t shirt, exposing your cleavage. You let out a laugh. You see Kakashi looking pleased and smug in front of you. Well, he always did have good aim.

You stand slowly back up. Your surroundings suddenly start to feel charged with an unusual energy. Your insides feel like it’s buzzing with the same energy. Unusual, but oddly exciting.

You look at him and an inexplicable feeling engulfs you. What is this feeling?

Yearning, you find your subconscious answering. The realisation startles you.

Not wanting your opponent to catch a whiff of your emotions, you recompose yourself and scream out a perfunctory jeer. “Just give up already, Kakashi”

“Make me”, he answers with a smile, stretching the words out slowly, his voice teasing.

Jeez. He’s not gonna make this any easier, is he?

You run towards him at full speed, hurl yourself into the air and aim a kick to his chest. He swivels his leg clockwise in front of him, blocking your kick by deflecting it to the side. You fall to the ground on your knees with a thud.

You look up to see Kakashi’s hand extended towards you, his eyes soft. You take his hand and pull yourself up as he pulls you as well and the combined forces cause you to topple forward on him, accidentally stepping on his foot with yours. Kakashi staggers a little and holds your waist to regain balance. The tip of your nose brushes against his briefly and you feel your eyes widen at the sudden proximity and suddenly become very aware of the feel of his hands on your waist and yours on his chest. You watch him look equally stunned by this unexpected outcome and after what feels like forever, the both of you detach yourselves from each other, averting your eyes to avoid eye contact and get yourselves into battle stance again.

You look up at him self-consciously, only to watch his eyes reflect a strange look of hunger that you feel inside you. You gulp.

The sky above seems to also have taken an unexpected turn. The blazing rays of the Sun have disappeared and dark clouds hide the Sun behind them. A light drizzle comes to pass.

The two of you dive towards each other, back in battle mode again. You put your focus on his right hand holding the kunai and concentrate on deflecting it with yours, but instead of attacking directly with the knife when he comes near you, he grips the wrist of your kunai holding hand with his free one and turns you around , twisting your arm behind you with your back to him. He’s got the advantage now.

He holds your wrist firmly in place behind you, and bends it slightly so your grip loosens and the kunai falls from your hand. You try to snatch the kunai in his right hand with yours but he throws it into the air and catches it with his mouth. He takes your free arm and brings it behind you, both your wrists criss-crossing each other now. He holds both your hands in place behind you with his left hand and takes the kunai back into his right from his mouth. You’re panting heavily now and you can feel him taking heavy breaths behind you. He gives your wrists a tug and you stumble a few steps backwards, getting even closer to him.

The rain is pouring angrily now, gradually drenching the both of you, bit by bit. The water feels good against your warm skin.

You can feel the tight muscles of his chest behind you through his shirt, and sweat and water from his hair drips down to your shoulder drop by drop. Your heart beat rises as you feel the tension thicken between you and Kakashi. You bite your lip unknowingly. The rain wets your clothes but your clothes aren’t the only thing you feel getting wet. Kakashi brings his face closer to your ear but doesn’t say anything.

Just the sound of his heavy breathing and your heart thumping in your chest, and nothing else.

Slowly, he lifts the kunai and brings it in level with your neck. You wait, holding your breath. He lowers it down slowly to make the tip of the knife touch the area between your collar bones. The hot metal slightly burns your skin. He traces the knife down in a straight line down your chest and along your cleavage and stops where the slit in your t shirt ends. With a swift movement, he drives another straight line through the slit of your t shirt, all the way down to the end, ripping the front of your t shirt in half. Your heart is racing so fast now, you can barely breathe. You hear Kakashi drop the kunai on the ground. You want to see his face but you’re so astounded by this sudden turn of events, neither your mind nor your body is working. The air surrounding you is ripe with tension now.

Kakashi loosens his grip on your wrists and lets them fall free. You turn around slowly to face him and look up to meet his eyes. He has a strange look in his eyes. It makes your heart skip a beat. You quickly rewind the past few hours’ events in your mind and stifle a smile.

Well that certainly was a turn of events I didn’t see coming.

You feel a sudden rush of inexplicable emotions flow through you. You steady yourself.

We’ll deal with the emotions later, this fight isn’t over yet.

You watch him looking at you with interest, anticipating your next move.

Your upper body is exposed now except for the sports bra that you had on underneath and the ripped t shirt hung loosely on your shoulder. Your wet clothes stick to your body, making patches of skin visible through the them. You see concentration replace the strange look in Kakashi’s eyes as you pretend to reach behind to your empty weapons bag. He changes into a defensive stance. You smile inside, he’s falling for it.

Taking one step forward towards him, as you pretend to draw out a weapon, you angle your foot behind his and drag it forward with yours to break his balance. As soon as you see him loose his footing and trip slightly, you leap forward into the air and throw yourself on him, legs astride his waist, pushing him backwards with your body and making him fall to the ground with the force of your weight.

Just as his head is about to touch the ground, you instinctively put your hands at the back of his head to soften the blow of the fall. You feel it in your knuckles instead. He looks at you with widened eyes, surprised at the gesture. You feel surprised yourself at your own subliminal act.

He lays flat on the ground now, his eyes wide as he comprehends what happened. It’s your turn to look smug. You smile, victorious. You sit astride his lower abdomen, hands beneath his head. You feel the softness of his wet hair in your fingers. You lean forward a bit and withdraw your hands from the back of his head. He tries to move, so you quickly pin his hands to the ground, holding him in place. He starts to laugh a little. Your face is inches from his and you can see all the details of his face up close. You’re panting now. Your throat is dry, you take a gulp.

He has long curled eyelashes, you never noticed that before. His water glazed face makes his skin glisten. You can make out the outline of his lips through his mask. You let your eyes linger on his face and allow yourself to marvel at how handsome he has become. You feel something in your heart again. You watch his eyes linger on your face in the same way.

You notice a droplet of water trickling down his forehead, through his eyebrow, just about to enter his eye. You lean forward further and blow on his face lightly to change the path of the drop, keeping it from entering his eye. He closes his eyes and you see his lips stretch into a smile beneath the mask, you smile a little yourself.

You start to sit back upright again but you take your time doing it. Drops of sweat from your body; your face and your chest drip down on him, becoming one with his. He doesn’t look as if he minds. You let your nose lightly brush against his and let your lips hover just inches over his before you sit back up. You feel a sudden stiffness underneath you where you’re sitting. The realisation makes you get hot inside, blood rushes to your cheeks. Your heart rate goes up again and you feel a wet, warm sensation fill you, down there. You look at him, unable to hide your desire. Come on, y/n. Get a grip.

“So.” You say, clearing your throat. “Who’s soft now?” you finish, with a smirk.

“Well, certainly not me”, Kakashi answers slyly, his tone thick with innuendo. Oh god. God save me.

You raise an eyebrow at him, barely concealing your amusement; looking flustered and impish at the same time. “But I’ll admit defeat this time. I have indeed been slacking on my physical training. I’ve been too fixated on trying to control my Kamui. Although it’s about time I started working my body again.”

“Got any ideas for that?”, he adds, his tone puckish.

“Oh yes. So many.”, you say, your voice teasing, unable to hide the thirst inside you.

The bulge beneath you grows bigger. You shift around a little, on purpose and watch as Kakashi writhes and closes his eyes.

“But before that”, you say “There’s some unfinished business I need to take care of”. He opens his eyes and looks at you. You reach across and find your kunai knife which had fallen on the ground earlier. He looks on at you, waiting, a look of curious anticipation playing across his face.

You pick up the knife and bring it to his chin. He doesn’t avert his gaze from your face. Pointing the knife down vertically, you run a line through his drenched undershirt, causing a tear till the middle of his chest. You throw the kunai aside and rip the remaining part with your bare hands, exposing the pale, smooth skin beneath. He looks a little baffled, almost impressed and you can see an expression of amusement in the way his eyes twinkle. Now we’re even.

You lay your hands on his damp chest, feeling the tight muscles underneath and lock your eyes with his.

He glides his hands up the sides of your thighs and stops at the waist of your skirt, just below the region of exposed skin of your stomach, holding you by your waist. You can feel just the tips of his fingers on your skin, but even that is enough to send a shiver through you.

“y/n. you’re soaking wet”, he says, smiling. Innuendo unmistakable in his voice again.

“yeah, I am”, you answer in the same tone. You lean down towards him, a ghost of a smile on your lips, before continuing in a whisper, “Guess we better get out of these clothes.”

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tchallasbabymama · 3 years

Text

Ménage à Trois Chapter 8

Hey lovelies, here’s the next chapter of Ménage à Trois a day early! I’ll be honest, I only had 10 chapters mapped out for this originally, but I’m not really ready to let them go just yet so I’m thinking this story might end at around 13 chapters. We’ll see.

Check out my masterlist to read my other stories, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything! Enjoy 😘

Word Count: 6594

CW: smut

T’Challa sat back in his desk chair and let out a deep sigh. It had been a rough week trying to convince the US government to continue their cooperation without Theodore, but they eventually came around and “allowed” the liaison position to replace an ambassador. It didn’t help that Theodore had been bad-mouthing Zora and the king to anyone who would listen, and unfortunately, lots of people listened. That is until some of those photos of Theodore and his mistress were mysteriously sent to Mrs. Thompson’s phone from an unknown number. That shut him up real quick. However, some of the damage had already been done. Thankfully, Zora had no interest in working in the world of politics and could care less about her reputation among that crowd.

Not only had the week been difficult because of work, but T’Challa was also missing his lady. Zora had flown back to New York to pack up her life, and she would be back in about a week, but he couldn’t wait that long. By the time three days had passed, he was already getting antsy. “Is this what it is like when I go on missions?” he wondered to himself.

He missed her loud laughter and the twinkle in her eye when she looked up at him. It just wasn’t the same seeing her in hologram form; it wasn’t anywhere close to as good as the real thing. Despite that, he looked forward to her morning calls. She would call him as she got ready for bed and tell him about her day as she detangled her hair, and T’Challa loved watching the look of determination on her face as she worked her way through every curl and kink. Some nights it was hidden under a solid layer of clay, and he’d tease her about looking like Hulk in her green mask. He didn’t get to see her like that often, but he liked it, and he wanted more of it. Something about seeing her in that relaxed state made him want to lay his head on her chest and doze off with her, but, unfortunately, as her day was winding down, his was picking up. He smiled as he thought back to their conversation earlier that day and the words that almost left his mouth when they said goodbye.

“I love you.”

He almost said it. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but it felt as natural as breathing.

“Sweet dreams, Babygirl. I...will talk to you tomorrow.” He had caught himself right before the words came tumbling out, but she didn’t notice his awkwardness thanks to a yawn that overtook her as he spoke. When she ended the call, he sat there in a stupor, unable to wrap his mind around what had just happened. It’s not that he couldn’t believe he was falling in love with Zora, that was pretty easy for him to believe, but T’Challa was surprised at how deeply he felt the words as they sat on his tongue. They were his truth that even he didn’t know until that moment. He felt a warm glow emanating from within him as he thought about his feelings for her, but it was quickly tamped out by the looming anxiety of what he knew he had to do regarding his other truth. T’Challa had no doubt in his mind that he loved Zora, but he had been lying to her the whole time about who and what he was. She had been kept in the dark about his identity because of her ties to the U.S. government, but T’Challa couldn’t hide behind that excuse anymore.

A call interrupted his thinking, and his mother’s image was projected into the air.

“Molo, mama.”

“Molo, unyana. Are you busy?”

“Not too busy for you.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Change into something you can get dirty and come down to the garden.”

Ramonda ended the call before he could protest, and he chuckled, knowing she did it on purpose. The king stood and stretched out his body after sitting for so long, and he left his office to change into something a little less royal.

“How are you today, mama?” T’Challa asked as he kissed Ramonda’s cheek, interrupting the song she was humming as she watered her hanging flowers.

“You would know if you hadn’t skipped breakfast,” she taunted with an eyebrow raised as he smiled sheepishly back at her.

“I did not skip breakfast. I just had it in my quarters.”

“Mmmhm. Talking to Zora again?”

T’Challa playfully rolled his eyes and groaned. “Mama-”

“Don’t ‘mama’ me, boy. I already know,” she knelt down on her padded mat as she watered her fire lilies. “You know, in all the weeks she has been here, I have been able to spend very little time with her. Hopefully, that will change soon.” She eyed her son, and he nodded under her piercing glare.

“Yes, ma’am. I believe you will like her.”

“Oh, I already do. Zora is a lovely girl, T’Challa. You have chosen well, but then again, you always have had good taste in women.”

“Of course I do; I learned from the best,” he smiled at her as he crouched down and started pulling weeds.

“So, how is she?”

Ramonda smiled to herself as she watched T’Challa’s face brighten at the thought of her.

“Zora is well. She is still wrapping up loose ends in New York, but she is excited about her new job when she gets back.”

“I cannot say I am surprised at her appointment. She seems perfect for the position.”

“She is, mama...she is,” he said with a far-off look on his face and a dreamy smile holding firm on his cheeks.

“I bet. Have you told her yet?”

T’Challa’s voice caught in his throat.

“No, not exactly-”

“T’Challa!”

“I know, I know,” he rubbed the back of his neck, completely forgetting about the dirt on his hands.

“They have been here how long now, three months? You need to tell that girl before you make it worse than it already is. You should have told her the moment you decided you wanted to be with her.”

“It was not that simple.”

“And why not?” she asked with a hand on her hip.

“We went into this thinking there would be an end date,” he sighed. “Zora would leave soon and go back to America, so there was no need to get serious. She had already been looking for other jobs because she hated working under Theodore, but our relationship ended up blooming into this big, beautiful thing. It became more than I expected it to be, but now it might all come crumbling down because I have been keeping a huge part of myself from her. And M’Baku had to keep my secret, too...I do not think it will go well for either of us, but myself especially.”

The king pulled the unwanted plants from the ground and roughly threw them in a large basket, taking his frustration out on the soon-to-be compost. Ramonda looked over at her son, and her eyes softened at the sad furrow in his brow. She reached out and placed her hand over his. “Unyana, the longer you wait, the worse the outcome will be.”

“I just do not know how to come out and say ‘hey Zora, I have been lying to you this entire time’ without hurting her.”

“It might be inevitable, T’Challa, but that is not to say she will not eventually come around.”

“I hope so,” he sighed, and the two of them went back to gardening in comfortable silence. After a few more minutes of the hot sun beating down on them, Ramonda spoke again.

“So you said she is still seeing M’Baku?”

“Yes, and I believe things are going well.”

“Good for her. Does he love her as you do?”

“Yes, he-” A look of horror washed over T’Challa’s face while a smirk settled on his mother’s.

“Do not look so surprised. You are always the last to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, everyone can see how much you love that girl. Have you considered a future for your relationship?”

“So diplomatic. Is this how I sound to everybody?” T’Challa chuckled. Ramonda lightly slapped his arm, and he gave in. “Alright, alright. Yes, I have considered it.”

“But?”

“But it is complicated with M’Baku involved as well. Well, not complicated, but definitely something that requires a conversation.”

“A conversation you just now realized you need to have,” Ramonda said while slowly nodding along. “Well, your great-great-grandmother, Queen Asha, married both the River tribe and Border tribe chiefs. And I believe it was your great-great-great-great-grandfather, King Jidenna, who had seven wives.”

“That is entirely too many.”

“I agree, but what I am saying is do not worry about his relationship with her. It has no bearing on where yours can go. She would make an excellent queen and an excellent chieftess if I do say so myself.”

T’Challa smiled from ear to ear at the thought of Zora ruling beside him before looking down at his beads and noticing the time. He let out a deep sigh, having enjoyed his time spent with Ramonda but not wanting it to end so soon. His free time was over, and he had to get back to running his kingdom. He pulled the last few weeds out of the ground and carried the full basket over to the composter on the other side of the garden, dumping out the contents into the putrid container and shutting the lid tight. He waved goodbye to her as he walked back toward the palace, stuck in his head about how to tell Zora his secret.

Ramonda sat back on her heels as he walked away, and she shook her head before turning back to her flowers and sighing. “T’Chaka, your son is a handful.”

--------

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“I can’t see, T’Challa,” Zora giggled as he carefully led her out of the car and down the walkway of her new home. As part of her new job, she was given a choice between an upgraded suite at the palace or her own house. She sort of missed cooking for herself, so she chose the house. As much as she loved living in the palace, she had never lived alone before and jumped at the opportunity to get her Ari Lennox on. Besides, she could always stay with either of her boyfriends in their palaces whenever she wanted.

T’Challa grabbed her waist to still her movement and pulled her flush against him, kissing behind her ear. “Are you ready?”

“Mmm, for what?” she asked as she bit her lip and wound her hips back on him.

“Behave,” he rumbled in her ear, making her flood her panties. “Are you ready to see the house?”

“I’ve already seen it, baby; I picked it.”

“True, but you have not seen it like this.”

Zora felt his hands undo the sash, and as it fell away, her eyes slowly blinked open and focused on the vision before her. Her home was surrounded by a beautiful landscape of tropical flowers, and there was a swing to the right of the door.

T’Challa held out his hand to her, and she took it, “There is more inside.”

Zora followed him into the house, and her jaw dropped. It was already decorated and furnished, and somehow it was exactly what she wanted, right down to the art on the walls. The plush teal velvet sectional was obviously the centerpiece of the living room, and she immediately walked over and ran her fingers along the soft fibers. She wandered into the kitchen and almost drooled when she saw that T’Challa had made sure it was fully stocked with her favorites. The six-burner stovetop caught her eye, and her wheels already started turning, bringing up memories of how she used to cook huge meals for her loved ones. She made a mental note to bring that energy to Wakanda and host some get-togethers.

She continued her self-guided tour with T’Challa on her heels and slowly made her way up the stairs and to her bedroom. T’Challa opened the door for her, and when she stepped through, her eyes became misty.

“T’Challa...how did you do all of this? This is...this is perfect.” She walked to the four-poster canopy bed and sat down to test the mattress. “Yep, perfect.”

“Wait until you see the closet,” the king teased, laughing as Zora got up and ran to the closet doors.

She flung them open and gasped, “T’Challa, you didn’t!” The closet had been expanded to fit her existing wardrobe and an entirely new wardrobe T’Challa had gifted her. She walked in and excitedly started flipping through the garments one at a time with a massive grin on her face. “This is too much.”

“Then stop smiling,” he walked closer and rested his hand on her hip as she continued to flip through the clothing rack.

Zora turned around in his arms to thank him when she caught a glimpse of a full shoe rack on the other side of the closet. She damn near pushed T’Challa to the side and made her way over to the shoes in no time flat, picking up a simple pair of black stilettos and flipping them over to see the bright red soles.

“Holy shit, these are Louboutins.” She carefully placed them back as if they would break and turned to face her man. “How did you do all this? Everything is exactly what I wanted.”

“Keisha may or may not have shown me your “Home Sweet Home” Pinterest board.”

“Of course she did,” Zora laughed. When she stopped, her voice took on that smoky timbre it tended to get when she was aroused, “You know there’s one more thing I really wanted that I haven’t gotten yet.”

“And what is that?” He asked, closing the gap between them and tilting her chin up towards him.

“We need to christen it.”

“How do we do that?” T’Challa captured her lips with his, and she melted into his arms.

“I want you to fuck me in every room in this house.”

“You haven’t even seen the home office or the meditation room yet-”

“I’ll see it later,” she reached up to undo his buttons, but he stopped her by grabbing her wrists in his hand.

“Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

“I don’t care right now. Just fuck me.”

“You don’t care, eh? Alright, we will see,” he said as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

“T’Challa, stop,” she giggled out.

“Nope, you said you want me to fuck you in every room. Let us go where your neighbors can watch me slut your pretty ass out,” he said with a slap to the back of her thigh.

Part of Zora wanted to protest. She didn’t need her introduction to the neighborhood to be her getting her back blown out by the king, but those feelings were overridden the moment he reminded her of her position.

He took her back downstairs and toward the back of the house to a wide-open sunroom. She could see her new neighbors relaxing in their backyard, and her heart rate picked up when he set her down. What Zora didn’t know yet was that although she could see them, they couldn’t see her through the glass thanks to Shuri’s cloaking tech, so the thrill of possibly getting caught washed over her from head to toe.

“Take off your dress.”

“You do it,” she teased.

“Zora, I will not repeat myself,” he growled as he walked her back towards the glass wall. Fear flashed in her eyes for half a second before it was replaced by lust. He had a way of doing that to her that nobody else had ever done before. His presence alone made her tremble, and her body did just that as her back hit the glass. Despite how his dominance made her body melt, she still felt like putting up a fight.

“Then I’m not doing it,” she crossed her arms and looked up at him with a smirk.

“Take off the fucking dress, Zora. Now,” he grabbed her jaw roughly and made her meet his piercing gaze. She shuddered but held firm until his hand traveled up her inner thigh and zeroed in on her clit. Zora moaned as his middle finger applied the perfect amount of pressure while moving around her clit in circles. “No panties today...I see you wanted this. Do my fingers feel good on your pussy?”

“Mhm,” she moaned out louder as her teeth lightly clamped down on her bottom lip. T’Challa’s fingers experimented with different speeds and pressures, not letting her get too used to any pattern before they dipped down and collected some of her wetness. Right as her moans grew louder and higher, he removed his fingers and stuffed them down her throat.

“What does that sweet pussy taste like today?”

“Hmm, an orange creamsicle?”

“Mmm. Too bad I won’t be tasting it.”

“What? Why not?” she whined.

“Because you are disobedient. A good little slut would have taken off her dress and sucked my dick right here when I told her to, but you chose not to be that today. You decided you’d rather push my buttons than get fucked like a good girl,” he leaned into her ear, “but now I have to fuck you like a bitch out of line. You have clearly forgotten my rules and need to be reminded who is in charge here.”

Zora’s breath caught in her chest as the king yanked her head back by her hair.

“No traffic lights tonight, just the safeword.” He bit her ear. “Say it.”

“Sunset,” she whispered.

“Take off your dress,” he murmured between bites to her neck and shoulder.

“Uh-uh,” Zora shook her head and smiled mischievously at T’Challa. He pushed her into the wall and ripped her dress down the middle. Before she could protest, his hand was covering her mouth.

“You are only making things worse for yourself. Now, get on your knees.”

Zora had one more ounce of defiance in her and shook her head again, her words muffled under his large hand. Without saying anything, T’Challa threw her over his shoulder again and crossed the room to sit in a chair by the glass wall. He set her down, throwing her over his lap while she squirmed in his grasp. He held her down with one hand and slapped both of her cheeks with the other.

Zora cried out as he rained blow after blow down on her, alternating sides and watching her ass jiggle and redden. He spoke between slaps, “What are my rules?”

“I do what- Ow! I-I do what you say when you s-say it.”

Slap.

“And?”

Slap.

“I am to call you Sir unless you give m-me permission otherwise,” she spoke as her eyes watered and he massaged her cheeks to relieve the burning.

“And what’s the last one, Babygirl?”

“Bratty behavior will get me punished.”

His hands both came down on her backside, and she yelled out his name, forgetting herself. T’Challa growled and pulled her off his lap as he stood up. “On your knees.”

She obeyed, and her legs shook as she carefully knelt down and sat on her haunches with her hands in her lap and her mouth wide open.

“Oh, now you want to be a good girl?” T’Challa laughed as he unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor, freeing his already hard dick. He tapped it on her tongue as he teased, “Tired of being my bitch already?”

“No, Sir,” she said around the thickness of her tongue.

He grabbed her hair and tilted her head back before sticking out his tongue and allowing his spit to drip into her mouth. His tongue soon followed in a sloppy kiss.

“Good. Now suck this dick.”

His grip on her hair tightened as her mouth enveloped him. Her long tongue flickered along the underside of his shaft as he carefully thrust his dick down her throat. Zora’s head swiveled up and down his length, taking every last inch like he had trained her to do. He held her head down when her nose reached his manicured pubic hair, and when he pulled her all the way off to see her face and his dick covered with spit, he couldn’t help but plunge back inside and fuck her face.

The wet sloshing sounds coming from Zora’s mouth were all that could be heard as T’Challa’s dick made itself at home in her throat.

“Fuck, Babygirl, this throat,” T’Challa groaned, not letting up on her as involuntary tears fell from her eyes. He was used to that by now and simply ignored them as she looked up at him with her doe eyes. “You look so pretty like this, with my dick in your mouth.”

Zora moaned around him, and the vibrations made his toes curl.

“You were made to please me, and that is all you are good for. You are worthless without my dick in your mouth,” he pulled her head off his dick, marveling at the bridge of spit still connecting them. “Say it.”

“I’m worthless without your dick in my mouth,” she slurred.

“Good girl,” he chuckled darkly as his hand ran up and down his shaft while she looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “Not good enough yet, though.”

His hand sped up, and she could see his dick twitching, so she opened her mouth for him.

“Close that shit,” T’Challa seethed through his clenched teeth.

Zora shut her mouth, and shortly after, warm squirts of liquid painted her face as he grunted above her.

The next thing she knew, she was being pulled to her feet and her breasts were pushed up against the glass.

“All they have to do is look over here, and they will see you covered in my cum,” he whispered into her ear as he entered her from behind, “taking my dick like a good bitch. They can see how filthy you are.”

Her back arched as her hands pressed into the glass to steady herself. T’Challa’s hand found its way back to her curls and pulled her head back as his hips pistoned inside her. He licked a stripe from the base of her neck to her temple, tasting himself on her skin and making her shudder and clench around him. His other hand gripped her hip so tight it would probably leave a bruise as he pulled her ass back onto him. He wouldn’t even let her throw it back; he controlled every move her body made. He arched her back deeper, making her bend more at the waist.

Zora’s eyes rolled to the back of her head when the hand on her hip moved down to circle her pearl again. She nearly lost her mind as his thrusts got deeper somehow, and his hips rolled into hers, stirring her insides, before removing his hand and going right back to his punishing strokes. Her already sore ass stung as his pelvis made contact, and his balls slapped her clit. He let go of her hair and grabbed both of her hips, fucking her deep as she screamed out for the heavens. Her body tensed up and released all over him. Her contracting walls almost brought him along with her, but his self-control was out of this world. T’Challa pulled out and turned her around, wrapping her legs around his waist and pushing her back into the glass as he thrust into her.

“T’Cha- Sir!”

He chuckled and whispered in her ear. “No, say my name Babygirl. I want them to know who you belong to. Who owns this pussy?”

“M-me,” she looked him in his eye and challenged him, wanting him to go harder. And he did.

T’Challa used gravity to Zora’s disadvantage and dropped her on his dick, meeting her thrust for thrust and going as deep as he could possibly go inside her. She screamed out, unable to contain her volume any longer. Her nails dug into his back, and the cool chill of the glass against her back reminded her of her possible audience, taking her over the edge.

“T’Challa, baby, my pussy-”

“Wrong. Whose pussy?” He smiled teasingly as she looked around the room, eyes unable to focus on any one thing. “Uh-uh, look at me. There you go, good girl. Now tell me, who owns this pussy, Zora?”

“Y-you do.”

He groaned in approval. “And what’s my fucking name?”

“T’Challa!”

“Who?”

“King T’Challa!”

“Mmm, one more time Babygirl. Say it again.”

“King T’Challa! Mmmm, you’re gonna make me cum again.”

“Do it,” he slapped her thigh, “and tell me what I want to hear.”

His hips never faltered as her walls gripped him tight. Her voice was hoarse and uneven, but she was able to croak out as she came, “This is your pussy, baby.”

Hearing the words sent him over the edge right behind her, and the two of them stayed in that position, catching their breath and gazing into each others’ eyes warmly. Zora loved that about T’Challa. He could be as rough as he wanted to be, but he could turn it off with the flip of a switch and be tender with her.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice low.

“Sore.”

T’Challa nodded and carried her back into the main house and up the stairs to her bathroom as she clung to him and buried her face in his neck. He set her down on the edge of the enormous clawfoot tub and started the water before disappearing out the bathroom door and reappearing a couple of minutes later with a cup of tea. He handed it to her and grabbed some bath salts, pouring them in as she sipped and soothed her aching throat. Once the tub was almost full, he helped her in and slid in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned her head back against his shoulder.

“Are you ready for your first day?”

“I think so. I’m still nervous about not being qualified.”

“Theodore was unqualified, but you are simply inexperienced. There is a difference. You will find your stride and do great things. I can feel it.”

“You better, you’re the one who hired me,” she chuckled as he wrapped his arms tighter around her and kissed her neck. “Thank you, by the way. For everything. The job, the house...for being you. Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome,” he said between kisses, making her giggle.

“T’Challa, I’m still sore.”

“So I cannot kiss you?”

“That’s all you get.”

“That is all I need.”

--------

Zora had spent the whole weekend alone as she settled into her new home. T’Challa had to get back to the palace to get some work done, so he didn’t end up staying that first night with her. At first, she was upset he had to leave, but then she rejoiced in getting her place all to herself. She didn’t wear a stitch of clothing all weekend, and she spent most of her time dancing around her living room and getting in the right headspace in her meditation room.

By Monday, she actually felt ready to do her job, something she hadn’t felt up until that point. Zora smiled at herself in the mirror as she adjusted the lapel on her favorite electric blue pantsuit and checked her outfit one last time before heading out the door. Thankfully, her home wasn’t very far from the palace, but T’Challa had gifted her with a hovercar to make her commute even easier. Before he left, he gave her a quick tutorial, and she picked it right up. As she slid in the driver seat and turned the vehicle on with her kimoyo beads, Zora smiled, thinking about how much she loved the Wakandan tech. “This is so fucking cool,” she mused as she ran her fingers over the dashboard.

When she pulled up at the palace, she grinned at seeing her own parking space near the entrance. She got out of her car at the same time Akil, the River tribe elder, arrived for the council meeting.

“Molo Zora! Unjani namhlanje?” he raised his eyebrow at her, testing out her Xhosa even though he was a former wardog and spoke English fluently. Zora had always liked Akil since he was one of the few council members that were initially open to her being there.

“Ndiphilile, Akil. And you?” she sent him a knowing glance with a healthy dose of playful attitude as he stepped out of his car.

“Bast woke me up this morning, and the sun is still in the sky. I cannot complain,” the older man smiled at her as they walked into the palace. “Are you excited about your first day?”

“I was nervous, but all that went away when I pulled up.”

“Because you saw me.”

Zora playfully shoved him as he cackled.

“But seriously though, you will do well. King T’Challa would not have chosen you otherwise.”

Zora turned to smile at Akil and caught sight of M’Baku coming down the hall. Her smile widened, and he turned to see what had gotten her so happy, quickly understanding her change in demeanor when he saw the chief. Zora excused herself from Akil and made her way over to her man, giving him a chaste, work-appropriate kiss.

“This color looks beautiful on you,” he held her hand in his and made her do a spin for him.

“Thank you,” she giggled. “Want to come see my office?”

“Of course. I am sorry I could not make it down this weekend to see the house.”

“Can you make it to my housewarming tonight?”

“Of course.”

“Then don’t worry about it. You’re gonna love it.”

They got to her office, and T’Challa was already there waiting with her paperwork. She took a look around the room and noticed how different it looked from when Theodore occupied the space. The walls were a warm burnt orange, and the furniture was all hand-carved Jabari wood. There were pictures on the desk of her and her mom and some with her and Keisha. Her framed degree hung on the wall behind her desk above a full bookcase. She ran her hands over the titles from throughout the diaspora and smiled, already thinking of curling up on her couch with a few of them. The Wakandan language and history books caught her eye, and as she reached for one of the history books, T’Challa intercepted her hand.

“Before you do that, there is something I need to tell you, but now is not a good time. How about after your party tonight?”

Zora’s heart sped up, and he tried not to notice, so he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

“Everything is ok, I promise,” he said, ignoring how M’Baku narrowed his eyes.

Zora’s first day went by smoothly. She mostly just read over and signed her contract after the council meeting, where she was officially reintroduced as American Liaison. The council gave her a round of applause, and she felt a weight lift from her chest upon realizing they wouldn’t be against her appointment like she thought they would. Another weight stayed, though. One put there by T’Challa earlier that day. His words continued to echo through her mind, haunting her until it was time for her to go home.

“There is something I need to tell you,” she mocked aloud as she packed up her things. She was frustrated and nervous, and she was thankful her housewarming party would be small and hopefully not too draining.

The rest of the night ended up being a blur. She greeted her friends when they arrived and held a couple of conversations as she kept the food and drinks flowing, but everyone could tell she was in another world.

“You should not have said anything earlier,” M’Baku grumbled to T’Challa before taking a sip of his beer.

“Would you prefer her to read about it before I tell her?” T’Challa rolled his eyes. “Either way, this is not going to go well.”

“For either of us.”

“Not necessarily. It is my secret, not yours.”

“I do not think she will see it that way.”

T’Challa nodded, and his eyes trailed Zora as she went to the kitchen to pop open another bottle of wine.

Zora needed to hide from the crowd for a moment, so she disappeared to the kitchen. Bahiti and Keisha had noticed her behavior and were concerned for their friend, so they followed behind her moments later.

“Is something wrong, Zora?”

“You’re acting kinda funny, and you normally love a party in your honor. What’s going on, sis?”

Zora chuckled. She was so in her head that she was missing a fun time with her friends. Her eyes swept over the dozen or so folks in her living room who had all come to celebrate her and her new home, and she suddenly felt a wave of guilt. Zora hadn’t meant to ignore her guests, but thankfully they had kept themselves busy. T’Challa and M’Baku chatted with Dakarai as Mandisa and Asha sat on the couch giggling over who knows what with a couple of people Zora had met in the dance class she had started taking a few weeks ago. The music set a chill tone for the gathering, and Zora thought it was nice getting to see her friends mingle with each other. Her friends from the dance class melded well with her work friends and the friends she made on her adventures around the country. Even with royalty and Okoye present, the vibe was relaxed, so Zora followed suit and put on a smile for the rest of the party.

Since it was a work night, people didn’t stay too late, and at around 10:30, Zora found herself cleaning up what little mess was left behind when she felt a hand circle her waist.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” T’Challa asked, nuzzling his head into her neck.

“Yes, but I would’ve enjoyed it a lot more if you hadn’t done the whole ‘we need to talk’ thing earlier,” she rolled her eyes and tried to get out of his arms, but he just turned her around to face him.

T’Challa sighed, “We do need to talk.”

“Ok, then talk.”

“My sweet, let us sit down first-”

“No, I don’t like this. Somebody talk, now.”

“Zora, please sit. Trust us. Please,” he felt a lump form in his throat at the words, knowing what followed would surely break her trust in him.

She eyed them both suspiciously before taking a seat on her couch. M’Baku sat next to her, and T’Challa started pacing as he searched for the words.

“Not this pacing shit again,” Zora thought.

“Zora,” T’Challa began, prompting M’Baku to grab Zora’s hand in his. “There is something I have not told you. Something very important. The only reason I kept it from you is because you worked for the U.S. government, and it is something I want to keep from the rest of the world for the time being, but now that you work for Wakanda, you need to know...”

Zora’s body felt like lead as she listened to his words and went over every possible worst scenario in her head. T’Challa’s deep breath unnerved her, and she braced herself for whatever came next.

“How familiar are you with the Black Panther?”

“The superhero?”

M’Baku rolled his eyes as T’Challa chuckled.

“Yes, the superhero.”

“Um, not very. He kinda just shows up, does his thing, and dips.”

“Yes, he is a very busy man.”

“You know him? Is that what this is about?” Zora rolled her eyes and sighed in relief. “You had me thinking-”

Just then, T’Challa’s suit appeared on his body, and Zora screamed, jumping back into M’Baku’s lap. Her hands were cupped over her mouth in disbelief as she stared at her boyfriend, the Black Panther, in all his suited-up glory.

“You...you’re- how?”

“It is a long story, but-”

“No, not ‘how are you the Black Panther,’ how the fuck could you lie to me all this time?”

“There it is,” T’Challa thought to himself. He knew the lie would overshadow the news.

“Zora, we went into this for just a good time. I cannot divulge this to just anybody-”

M’Baku shook his head to get the king to stop before he went too far, but he didn’t see it in time.

“Just anybody?!”

“Zora, that is not-”

“Then tell me this: if I wasn’t working for you, would you even tell me now?”

He hesitated, and Zora’s eyes blew wide open.

“So you can fuck me, but you can’t trust me unless I’m under contract?” Zora said as she climbed off of M’Baku. “And you-”

“Zora, he was acting under orders. Please do not be upset at him.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your orders, T’Challa, and I don’t care that you’re the Black Panther. I’m fucking pissed because you two lied to my face for months.” M’Baku reached for her arm, and she snatched it back.

“I had to. I could not let Theodore or the Secre-”

“I wouldn’t have told them, and you fucking know it,” she snarled. “How long were you gonna keep it up? Since I was ‘just anybody’ would you have ever told me? Would you have even spoken to me after we left?” Zora’s mind was racing, and her breathing became shallow.

“Maybe you should sit down, Babygirl.”

“Don't call me that,” she said between breaths. M’Baku tried to put his arm around her, but she pushed it off.

“Ok...ok. Zora, please come sit down.”

She listened, but not because he asked. She was getting lightheaded, and a cold sweat had started to take over her body.

“I need...you...to leave.”

“Zora, I can hear your heartbeat. We will leave, but you need to slow down your breathing. In and out, just like that,” he breathed with her for a few moments before the panic left her eyes anger filled them.

“You can hear my heart beating?”

“Y-yes, I-”

“Get out.”

“Zora,” M’Baku tried to get through to her, but it was no use.

“Get out. Both of you.”

“Babyg-”

“Get out!” she yelled, making T’Challa hang his head in shame. “Get the fuck out of my house, and if it doesn’t have to do with work, don’t talk to me. We’re through.”

“Zora,” both called to her, voices cracking with tears threatening to fall from their eyes.

“Save it,” she turned and walked up her stairs before stopping and turning back to T’Challa. “I’ll need the next week off.”

“Anything,” he pleaded, bringing tears to her eyes. She wanted to trust them, but she never could trust a liar, and that’s exactly what they were. Nothing they said felt true anymore, and she questioned everything they had ever told her. She ran up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door closed before they could see her cry, and she held it in tight until she heard her front door close behind them. Next Chapter

Taglist: @dersha89, @ljstraightnochaser, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #black!oc #t'challa #m’baku #t’challa x oc x m’baku #zora #throuple

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