#i wonder what i would see if i were 500 feet tall. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

schneesisterss · 3 years

Note

Do you have any head cannons for the other Dimitrescu sisters? I loved your takes on Cassandra!

thank you! <3 and Of Course I have headcannons for the other two. (though not as extensive as the ones I have for Cassandra bc you know... brain rot) BUT HERE:

Daniela:

ADD/ADHD representation

stims include, but not limited to: jumping, hard blinking, leg bouncing, word/phrase/noise repetition, and fidgeting with her clothing

and i’m also CONVINCED she gets the zoomies at random times of the day

Alcina, hearing loud and fast footsteps up and down her hallway at 3am: *sigh* “Daniela! Take it outside!”

followed by a loud THUMP and painful groan (she definitely ran into a wall)

hates loud noises but simultaneously has no volume control

especially when she gets excited

Cassandra has to constantly remind her to lower her voice

“AND THEN I TOOK MY KNIFE AND STABBED THE LYCAN IN THE NECK AND IT WAS SO COOL—”

“Dani, i’m standing right here, why are you yelling?”

she loves play-fighting with her sisters

Cassandra is more willing to entertain her than Bela but the both of them like to see their sister happy. so whenever they recognize Daniela getting antsy they’ll wrestle with her a bit

(Cassandra gets way to into it sometimes and makes Bela be the referee lol. Cass always ends up pinning her younger sister with a proud, competitive smile on her face. Bela let’s Dani win, but we don’t tell her that)

has the keenest senses of the three which makes her the best at stalking/killing pray

and since she can hear the best out of all of them, she unintentionally eves drops on conversations

so Daniela, bless her, has all the tea

tactile learner

will just. touch things

“Life hard, Mothers gown soft”

can get trapped in her own head and doesn’t know how to express to her family what’s bothering her

this can make her very reserved at times and she’ll distance herself for days on end

her mother is really the only person who knows how to get her out of that state. Alcina walks up the long flight of stairs to the highest point of her castle. her youngest daughter likes to come here sometimes when she needs the quiet. “Daniela? Are you up here?”

“Hello, Mother.” Alcina looks up to see her daughter lounging on a banister high up on the ceiling.

“What are you doing up there, my love?” Daniela rubs the fabric of her dress between her fingers. “Cassandra and Bela were arguing again. I don’t like when Cassandra yells.”

Alcina shakes her head. Those two were always going at it. She’ll speak to Bela about it later. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.” Daniela then grabs a fist full of her dress and tugs at it, blinking hard. “Come down for a moment. Talk to me, baby.”

and Daniela simply rolls herself off the banister and into free fall. Alcina, already prepared, catches her with ease and holds her bridal style against her chest. Daniela runs her hands over the sleeve of her mother’s dress.

Alcina gave her youngest child time to gather her thoughts, knowing it sometimes takes longer for her to be able to understand them herself. Daniela finally spoke up: “It’s been very loud recently. Around the castle. Small things, like footsteps or glasses clicking, they sound so loud in my head.” She covers her ears with her hands. “Even now I can still hear Cassandras voice through the castle, it’s pushing in my ears. My head hurts, Mother.”

Alcina gave her daughter a quick squeeze before setting her down. “Follow me baby, I want to show you something.” Daniela followed her Mother through the twists and turns of the castle until they ended up at a door that was just like all the others. It blended in and maybe that’s why Daniela has never noticed it before. “In here.” her mother guided.

Inside was a small library and lounge room. A fire place tucked in the corner and, of course, a wall a wine next to it. Daniela looked at her Mother questioningly.

“Listen.” her mother said, and Daniela did. She heard... nothing. Nothing outside of the quiet cracking of the fire place. “This room is sound proofed. Come here whenever you feel overwhelmed.” She leaned down to stroke her daughters head. “Just don’t tell your sisters I showed you my secret getaway room.” and with a wink, the tall woman exited the room and shut the door behind her.

The next day Daniela was at breakfast like nothing had changed. She didn’t even mind when Cassandra yelled at a maiden for breaking a plate, it only made her laugh.

(if you get overstimulated you KNOW what i’m talking about)

personal space? never heard of her.

loves to cling to Belas arm and Bela let’s her bc she thinks it’s just. so cute.

will also sometimes just crawl into her mothers lap and fall asleep. then Alcinas like: “well.. i guess i’m not moving for three hours”

Daniela: “if I run an jump at Cassandra, she’ll most certainly catch me.” *takes off in a full blown sprint*

Cassandra: “NO IM HOLDING HOT TEA—” *drops tea to catch Daniela* *proceeds to cuss her younger sister out, all while Dani is wrapped around her like a koala*

(this happens a lot. Dani will just... climb on Cassandra. piggy back rides, getting on her shoulders, wrapping her hands around her neck from behind and letting her feet drag on the floor, etc. Cassandra complains adamantly but never once moves to get her off)

Cassandra: “hey Dani, I dare you too—”

Bela: “Mother said Daniela isn’t allowed to accept dares anymore.”

Daniela: “apparently I have ‘no regard for my personal safety.’”

it takes a lot for Daniela to get genuinely angry, but when she does, it’s.... bad.

Very Very Scary when mad

turns into a completely different person that you Do NOT want to fuck with

dangerous and violent

much more dark and sadistic as compared to her normal personality

came home one night covered in blood and laughing hysterically. it scared the shit out of her sisters bc if they would try and get close, she’d slash at them with her weapon.

(this was one of the only times Bela had seen Cassandra genuinely worried and afraid for their sister)

when Alcina came to see what was wrong, Daniela, still laughing madly, swung at her too. Cassandra quickly shot out her arm and grabbed Belas elbow to stop her from getting involved. Bela whipped around with a growl but Cassandras glare and squeezing nails told her to back down. Mother can handle it.

Insane Laugh™️

thinks it’s funny to intimidate the maidens by showing her fangs and snapping her jaw

she often likes to find Bela when she’s reading a book to convince her to read to her (Bela almost always complies)

that’s it for Daniela. just a hyperactive baby with a murder streak <3 ONTO THE FINAL SISTER

Bela:

Mama’s (and I cannot stress this enough) Girl

needs constant reassurance that’s she’s doing a good job and yes this reassurance can ONLY come from her mother

INSOMNIAC

this girl never sleeps, pls baby you need some rest

she spends the time she should be sleeping reading books or running errands for her mother (whether Alcina asked her to or not)

she has read almost every single book in their giant library

Cassandra doesn’t understand this at all

“Why are you always cooped up in here?” Bela glanced up over the pages of her book at her younger sister. “This is the library Cassandra. Take a wild guess.” her voice was completely level and had no inflection. Cassandra gritted her teeth, “You think your so much better than me.” Bela sighed and closed her book. She didn’t want to do this again. “No. I don’t.” she said seriously. Cassandra eyed her for a moment then looked away, Bela saw the guilt on her face before she turned on her heal. “You’re so boring.”

because she reads so much, she is incredibly smart and just knows facts about random things

Daniela, daydreaming: “I wonder why grass is green.”

Bela, immediately: “the pigment that most grasses produce, Chlorophyll, absorbs almost all blue and red light and reflects green light which is why we see green. so I mean, technically grass is every single color EXCEPT for green.

Dani, confused as fuck: ....

Cass: “Bitch, how do you even know that?”

Bela’s sisters just end up using her as Google

“Hey Bela, how far away is the moon?” “238,900 miles.”

“Hey Bela, how many different climates are there?” “Twelve”

“Hey Bela, what’s the worlds deadliest poison?” “Botulinum... why?” “No reason.” “Dani. WHY?”

“Hey Bela, how much can I sell a human skull on the black market for?” Bela, concerned: “Cassandra why would—” “HOW MUCH?” “Well... are all the teeth still in tact?” “...No.” “Than only about $500.” “FUCK.”

“Hey Bela, I have this weird rash on my back and—” “Daniela. Do not finish that sentence. Go ask Mother.”

she is so quiet

and not just because she doesn’t talk very loud or even much at all. she’s just So. Silent. when she moves

just pops up in random places without anyone hearing her approach

even Daniela can’t hear her coming, which is saying something

Cassandra, minding her own business, drinking blood tea: .....

Bela, suddenly right next to her: “Hey I was wondering if— stop screaming, it’s me— have you seen Mothers lipstick? It’s missing.”

refuses any type of help with anything or else she feels like she failed that task

Never asks for help, Never asks for favors, and Never Ever will burden her Mother with any of her problems. Ever.

(Alcina thinks this is ridiculous. her eldest daughter pushes herself too hard.)

Anxiety™️

sometimes when her anxiety becomes too much she shuts down and becomes very indifferent to things around her. this has caused many fights between herself and Cassandra because Cass will get really fired up when all Bela does is respond with a monotone voice and blank stare.

overthinks literally everything and is a perfectionist

this makes her prone to panic attacks :(

when this happens she shuts herself in her room, not wanting to bother her Mother or sisters

Bela closes her bedroom door behind her and stumbles to her knees. she can’t seem to get air into her lungs no matter how hard she tried. she had failed. Mother asked her to bring her the head of that stupid man-thing, but somehow he knew their weakness.

how could he know? are Cassandra and Daniela ok? where are they? where is Mother?

Belas breathing was shallow and short, her chest burns as she presses her forehead into the ground. She claws the skin of her chest raw, leaving angry, red marks behind, desperately trying to open her lungs.

she stays as quiet as she can, only gasping few and far between. she will not be a burden. she should deal with the consequences of her failure. alone.

a sudden knock on her door makes her scramble backwards on her bottom till her back hits the opposite wall. then Belas worst nightmare, her Mothers voice.

“Bela?! Bela, is that you?” Alcinas words were rushes and worried. the door handle jiggled. “Bela, baby the door is locked, please let me in.” Bela covered her mouth and cried silently while her Mother begged to be let in.

the sound of snapping wood had Belas eyes flying open, her Mother had broken down the door. Bela shrunk into herself. She’s going to be so mad. I’m a failure. the ringing in her ears became so intense she couldn’t hear anything else.

large, soft hands cup her cheeks and a muffled voice through the air: “Bela, my love, you’re alright thank god. Are you hurt anywhere? Let me see.”

Bela pushed weakly at her Mothers arms and said between sobs, “I-I’m sorry, M-Mother.”

Alcina looked at her eldest daughter with confusion, she had no physical wounds, but the look on her face was heartbreaking. “What are you sorry for, my love?” this only made Belas breathing spend up even more, her face red from the lack of oxygen. Alcina quickly pulled her in close.

“Now Bela, listen to the sound of my voice,” she said it gently but just hard enough to grab her daughters attention. “I need you to copy my breath. Do it now, love, listen to me. Do what i’m telling you to.” Alcina took exaggerated breaths and noticed that instantly after her command, Bela had tried to follow, but the smaller girls breath was still choppy and small. Alcina rubbed a thumb across Belas cheek. “You’re doing so well baby. Keep going just like that. Good girl.” a smaller hand was placed on her arm and grabbed at her sleeve. “Good baby, use me to ground yourself. Keep breathing now, you’re doing so good.” Alcina kept whispering soft encouragements and praises until her daughters breathing was back to normal and she was laying limp on her chest.

Alcina moved the hair away from Belas face. “What a good girl, you did so well.” Bela squeezed her eyes shut and pushed into her Mother until her face was hidden. “I’m sorry Mother.” came a muffled apology, though her voice was much more steadier than before. “I failed you, I couldn’t stop the man-thing. He shot at the windows! He knows our weakness, Mother. What are we going to do? Where’s Daniela and Cassandra, are they ok? I should have stopped him for you I’m so sorry I—”

“Quiet.” Bela immediately seals her lips and looks away, already extracting herself from her Mother’s arms. She probably hates her. Alcina simple tugs her back and forces Bela to look in her eyes with a quick tap to the forehead. “Bela, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” Her daughters eyes go wide and she nods. “You have nothing to apologize for. This is not you’re fault and I will not allow you to think that way. Plus, the man-thing won’t bother us any longer, I took care of it.”

“But—” Alcina raises an eyebrow and Bela gives in, nodding hesitantly. “Good girl.” Bela exhales through her nose at the phrase and squeezes her Mother’s sleeve again. They sit like that for a few more moments, calming down.

Bela suddenly shoots up. “Daniela, Cassandra, are they—” “They’re fine my dear, Daniela got a little banged up, but Cassandra was already patching her up before I could even get close. We didn’t know where you were, that’s why I was so worried.” Bela relaxed and again nuzzled her nose into her Mother’s chest, took one more deep breath, then stood. “I’m going to go check on them.”

She steps through the now empty door frame and pauses. She spoke without turning around: “I won’t fail you again, Mother.” and shifts into a cloud of flies and disappears.

(am I projecting again? idk help)

can play the piano

no like you don’t understand, she is so good at piano

this girl has mastered songs by composers like Liszt, Beethoven, and Ravel

she’ll play for hours on end, if she starts a new piece she Will Not get up until she can play it through perfectly

she pretends not to notice Cassandra secretly listening to her play, hidden behind a nearby bookshelf

while her younger sisters always jump head first into a fight, Bela takes a more calculating approach. learning her enemies movements from afar before advancing and ending it in like 3 quick moves.

“Well Bela, if Mother asked you to jump off a bridge, would you?”

Bela, already climbing over the railing: “Hm?”

and there you go for Bela! my sweet child.. please learn self-care.

*ahem* I went overboard again didn’t I? WELP. I regret nothing. Give me more headcannons.

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the-broken-truth · 3 years

Note

The dimitrescus, Donna and Mother Miranda x 👨 reader. Reaction when reader is working out shirtless? (Love your works by the way, can't stop reading all of it!💕)

Broken Truth (Looks at Ask): This is interesting...LET'S GO!!!

- Alcina Dimitrescu -

Alcina was walking around the castle, looking for her lover.

When she woke up - he was not in bed.

When she went to the kitchen - he was not there either.

She searched the garden (He loved tending to the flowers), the library (He would read there with Bela), the armory (Daniela loved showing her father figure all the weapons she had), and the study (He would pat with Cassandra) - he was not in any of those places and none of the girls had seen him.

Then she remembered that her lover had been having a hard time lately when Mother Miranda commented that he didn't look like much and wasn't worthy of being by Alcina's Side.

He spent most of his money on him - none of Alcina's - to purchase metal contraptions to 'become worthy of his wife'.

He had been in that room for hours on end for about 5 months now.

'He might be in there.' Alcina wondered as continued down the hall to her Husband's Workout Room.

The closer she got to the room - the door was open and the light was on the room - the sound of grunting and metal clanking together got louder and louder.

She ducked her head a bit and walked into the room - holding her hat to make sure it didn't fall off - and rose to her full height. She opened her mouth the speak but once her sight was no longer obscured by the brim of her hat, her jaw dropped, her face began to warm up, and her body tingled.

Before her - her husband stood: his back was to her and he was wearing nothing except his boxers - his very tight boxes; she would see his defined butt and it was amazing.

In his hands were large weights that he lifted and flexed his muscles - Alcina could see every muscle flex.

His skin was shining with sweat and the smell of his musk was driving Alcina crazy - she wanted to jump his bones. So very bad.

What she didn't know was that her beloved had developed a sense to detect her and knew she was watching him...so he decided to tease his Lady and Mistress.

He dropped the weights in his hands and raised one of them opened palmed to the sky before summer suiting forward and landing on that hand to where his feet were pointing to the ceiling before beginning his set of one-handed push-ups. This time - facing her.

Alcina's eyes widened at her lover's chiseled body - the drops of sweat flowing through the cracks of his abs and biceps...then she made the mistake of looking up and saw the large bulge in his tight underwear.

That's it - she had enough.

"Beloved." She called out, making the man look at her with a smirk - her face was bright red and she was biting her bottom lip.

"Alcina, My Love. When did you arrive?" He asked faking confusion.

"That doesn't matter. I need you to accompany me to our bed chambers. Now."

"Our Bed Chambers?" The man asked as he flipped him to stand upright. "It is breakfast time, is it not?" He raised an eyebrow as he walked closer to the tall woman - his scent flooding her nose.

"Well..." Her eyes glowed dangerously, "I'm having Blood Sausage for breakfast."

She grabbed his wrist and marched to their room with him in tow, locking the door, and refused to leave that room until she was pregnant with the Latest Dimitrescu Spawn.

- Bela Dimitrescu -

Bela was bored and in need of some cuddles so she went looking for her lover - the only man-thing her mother and sisters approved of.

She looked at the grandfather clock and saw it as around 9:45 - her lover would be in his workout room to burn off any extra energy before showering and going to bed.

She floated down the hall to her husband's workout room and walked into the room without knocking - it was her man and she could do whatever she wanted regarding him.

What she wasn't prepared for was the sight on the other side of that door.

Her Husband was boxing with the sandbag.

In nothing but his boxers.

She could see everything - from the singular drops of sweat that ran down his sculpted body to every single flex of muscle with every move he made.

If the sight didn't have her done it - it was his smell.

The room was filled with the smell of musk that he was giving off and it was intoxicating - it radiated power and it was making her hungry.

"Darling?" His deep voice returned her from her fantasies of all the ways she wanted him to rock her world but the fact she could see his imprint from his shorts sent her mind back into the gutter. "Bela, is there something wrong?"

"Do you always...working out like this at night?" She questioned as she walked slowly to her man.

"Yes, it's hard to move in clothes; I keep my boxers on just make sure I don't scar any maids."

"Scar Them?" Bela tilted her head with a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well...the one time I worked out naked, a maid came in without knocking and she looked like she saw a ghost."

Bela was pissed.

"A maid saw you naked?!" She hissed. "Where is that harlot?!"

"Your Mother turned her into wine 3 nights ago."

'Good, I won't have to kill her myself. As for you..."

"NGH!" He clenched his teeth as Bela's hand wrapped around his throbbing manhood.

"You're going to learn to lock your door when in this room...and punishment for failing to inform me about that whore."

The Next Morning - Bela & [Y/N] weren't at breakfast.

- Cassandra Dimitrescu -

Cassandra would already be with her beloved because they were each others' sparring partners.

Cassandra would be doing push-ups while her beloved would be jumping rope.

She would look at him and smirk - she loved the way his body moved during intense workouts and the smell he gave off was perfect; it made her hungrier and hungrier with each passing moment.

When it would be time for the spar - her lover would use one arm to test himself more than he needs to for he wanted to be worthy of dating a Dimitrescu Daughter.

While sparring - Cassandra would try to pin him and have her ay with him - whether that would be drinking his blood or having him devour her like a full course meal.

This time - it was different.

She threw a punch at him but it was grabbed by his free arm and used against her to wrap around her neck, once he was behind her, he used his knees to the back of hers to make her fall to them and then lay on the mat.

Once his other hand was free, it snaked around her body and into her shirt, where it grabbed and twisted one of her nipples - making the girl squirm under him.

"D...Darling? What are you...?" She began but was cut off when his teeth locked into her neck.

"Every time we train, you make me submit to you. This time - you're mine, Cassandra Dimitrescu."

And his was exactly what he made her.

Daniela walked down the hall looking for her sister when she heard moaning coming from behind the door leading to the training room - she leaned in to listen and went to find her mother.

"Mother?"

"Yes, Dear?" Alcina asked as she looked up from the book she was reading.

"Why didn't you tell us Daddy was coming to visit & he brought presents?"

"Darling, you don't have a father."

"Then why did I hear Cassandra saying "More, Daddy! More!" in the training room?"

Alcina went wide-eyed as the glass in her hand shattered and the one thing she thought was...

'I'm too young for grandkids...'

- Daniela Dimitrescu -

CHOMP!!

"OW!!!"

She smelled something delicious and followed that smell to her lover's training room and found him completely naked with the exception of his undergarments, shadow boxing himself.

He looked like a full snack with the sweat making his body glaze and his muscles looking like beefcakes - he was just begging to be bitten and that's exactly what she did.

"Daniela? What was that for?" He asked her as he looked over his shoulder at his wife - who was clinging to his back like a koala with her fangs in his shoulder blade.

"I couldn't help it, love. Your scent was driving me crazy and I was in the mood for a snack." Daniela tried to say but her fangs were still in his skin.

"Dani, I was training, and as much as I would move to be your mid-morning meal; I need to get back at it if I want to keep the form you love so much."

"I love you for who you are - the body is just a plus. I don't want you to train, I want you to take me to bed and cuddle me."

"But..."

"Do you love me?" Dani asked.

"Yes, without a doubt." He answered.

"Would you do anything for me?" She asked again.

"Without question." He said.

"Then I want you to stop training and take me to our bedroom so that we can cuddle and make little vamp-babies."

"...Okay."

- Donna Beneviento -

Donna would be walking around Beneviento Manor - looking for the man who stole her heart. Who accepted her and her dolls and loved them all equally.

He wasn't in his normal spots but she did remember that he recently got interested in getting in better shape and asked her if there was anywhere in Beneviento Manor she would be alright with him making it into a workout room - she gave him one of the rooms on one of the floors under the house floor.

Donna walked down the hall without Angie as she followed the sounds of something grunting in effort echoing down the hall's walls.

She reached the opened room but didn't want to just walk in and disturb her love so she peeked around the corner and her eye widened while she let a gaspy moan escape her lips,

Her lover was laying on the weight bench with a long metal bar in his large hands - giant iron circles on each end.

She looked closer at the circles - 500 Pounds. That made her shiver - she knew he was strong but to be able to bench that much was...alluring.

She looked at his shining skin.

Listening to her man's grunts with each lift of the bar.

The define lines in his muscles with each movement he made.

It made her hot. She rubbed her legs together before she hid behind the wall completely and pressed her forehead against the cold wall.

She needed to get a hold of herself - she was like she had no control of herself but when she was around him, it was like she forgot all she was and wanted nothing more than her man.

She was so focused on keeping herself from relieving herself right then and there that she didn't notice she was no longer alone until a familiar weight pressed against her back and she was completely pressed against the wall.

"It looks like you have a very serious itch, My Love." his voice growled as his hand moved closer and closer to her throbbing organ.

"I...I can explain..." She blushed in her weak, gasping voice; she was embarrassed but having her lover so close with his body radiating power made her weak.

"Let me...help you with that, My Lady." He growled before one hand reached the buttons on the top of her dress and the other was cupping her womanhood while she bit her lip in hopes of being silent.

A few moments later - he had her on that same bench that was still drenched in his sweat and scent, her hands gripping the metal poles that held the long rod over her head' sweat dripping from her body as she was stretched apart.

She was pleading for him to continue to Beneviento Bloodline with her.

Begging him to make her family's bloodline stronger than it ever was before.

Crying for him to make her a mother.

Who was he to deny his lady what she wished?

- Mother Miranda -

Miranda stood n her lab, looking at the results from the latest experiment and possible host for Eva but once again - it wasn't good enough and it makes her angry.

Once again - so close but so far away.

"Miranda? Love?" A familiar male voice called out to her.

She looked up at was met with the shirtless, bare-chested, sweaty body that was the man she entrusted her heart to.

He stood there in the doorway with a towel around his neck while one hand used an edge of the towel to wipe the sweat from his face.

The Village Leader blushed but then looked away from him to keep from looking upon her face.

"[Y/N]. Darling. I thought we talked about you walking around the lair like that. It's rather...distracting." She said.

"I do hope you'll forgive me but I sensed that something was bothering you and I wanted to make sure you were alright." The man said as he walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her stomach and pulling her back into his bare chest.

"Your...concern for me is welcomed, Darling, but I must return to work. Please, do prepare yourself for dinner; I shall be down in a moment." Miranda said as she reached for a book, only to her lover's hand to stop her.

"Miranda." He turned her to face him - worry and compassion in his eyes. "You've been working on this for over a week straight; you haven't taken any time for yourself...or for me." He was sad - afraid his lover had forgotten about him.

"My Love, I'm sorry I have made you feel this way but...I'm so close, Darling. I can return her to us and...MPH!" She was cut off by a deep kiss. She melted into it before he pulled away from her.

"Enough of this for one night, My Love. Let me take care of you...and make you see you don't need to Cadou for a child. Just...me" He kissed her again and she wrapped her arms around him; submitting to his command and desire.

It would be a year later that Miranda would invite the Lords to meet Eva and Ethan Winters arrived in the village - only for his wife and child to be given back to him and escorted out of the village; never to be seen again.

#resident evil 8 #donna benevient x male reader #alcina dimitrescu x male reader #bela dimitrescu x male reader #cassandra dimitrescu x male reader #daniela dimitrescu x male reader #mother miranda x male reader

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rosenallies · 2 years

Text

the feminine urge to write things not a single soul asked for but anyway …here’s whatever tf this is! Bosco’s a witch hehe

——

Jasmine wandered the wooded area surrounding her, the creek she walked beside flowing and ebbing with the wind, cool earth squishing between her bare toes. Wind howled around her, sending sharp chills up her spine. She wrapped her arms around herself, dressed only in a short lacy dress, the chill seemed relentless. It seemed out of nowhere, the sun began to set, casting the area in a dark shadow and she realized she was lost. Just up ahead, she noticed smoke rising and curling above the trees.

She followed the smoke deeper into the woods. It consistently got darker and darker around her, her heart thumping with anxiety. Getting closer to the source of the smoke, she saw it was coming from a chimney of a small stone house. Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that whoever lived there would allow her to stay the night and perhaps show her how to get home in the morning.

Approaching the house, she could feel the warmth radiating from the inside, warming her goosebump covered skin. She tentatively raised her fist to knock, but before she did, the door creaked open, leading her inside with the sweet smell of blueberry muffins.

“Hello?” she called out, stepping inside the warm cottage.

She looked around, the shelves lined with bottles and bottles of liquids she didn’t recognize. Gravitating toward them, she ran her fingers over the intricate glass bottles, picking up one shaped like a heart. There was no label on it and she briefly wondered how anyone knew what was in them. She was about to set it back down when a voice came from behind her.

“Hey, who are you?” the voice exclaimed, making her drop the bottle at her feet, the glass shattering on the hardwood.

Jasmine whipped around to see a tall woman dressed in a long black cloak with light eyes that even from afar bore into her soul.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

The woman rushed toward her while Jasmine’s feet stayed planted on the ground, unable to move or take her eyes off the woman. Jasmine began to feel lightheaded, her stomach flipping as the woman came closer.

“I’m Jasmine, what’s your name? You’re very beautiful,” she muttered like she was in a trance. She reached out to touch her, her hand barely coming in contact with the woman’s arm before she crumpled to the ground at the woman’s feet.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, lifting Jasmine bridal style and placing her on the couch, a crocheted blanket thrown over her limp body.

Making her way back over to the mess Jasmine left, she gasped when she saw the bottle she had dropped. The strongest love potion she had, the fumes in that one were so strong it must’ve affected Jasmine so strongly she passed out, the feelings of love and adoration flooding her body all at once.

She did the only thing she could think to do, call her best friend Daya, the only other witch she knew that might know what to do.

She quickly dialed the number into the phone on the wall, silently begging that she’d pick up. Finally, she did.

“Bosco, what the hell are you doing calling me after sundown? You know that’s when I practice my spells.”

Bosco sighed. “I fucked up. Well, sort of, it’s not exactly my fault, this girl came inside my cottage without me knowing and kept touching all my potions and dropped the Lovesick potion, the most potent one! She didn’t even ingest any and she was already all googly eyed looking at me before she passed out!”

“Aww! How sweet! Finally after 500 years someone looks at you with something other than hatred!”

“Daya!” Bosco snapped, “this is no joke! What the fuck do I do?”

Daya pondered for a moment. “You weren’t affected by the spell? How do you feel when you look at her? Do you feel warmth and butterflies in your stomach?”

Glancing at her sleeping form, Bosco shook her head. “I feel nothing. Just annoyance, if I’m being honest. Aren’t witches immune to potions they created anyway?”

“Sometimes, but not always. That’s rough though,” Daya said, sucking in a breath, “even the most experienced witches can’t break a lovesick spell that strong.”

“Can I just make her leave in the morning? She’d get over it eventually, right?”

“Is she completely human?”

Bosco set the phone down for a moment and made her way to the couch where she placed her hands directly above Jasmine’s heart, closing her eyes and whispering something in Latin under her breath. She felt no magic in the other girl, only human blood pumping through her veins.

She picked the phone back up to confirm her findings with Daya. “Yep, completely human, around 22 years I think.”

“Okay, so technically if she never sees you again, the spell bond would break over time, but that takes hundreds of years. Since she’s only human, her health will deteriorate and she will die before that ever happens. If you’re okay with letting her die, that’s your course of action.”

Bosco glanced at Jasmine, even in sleep her cheeks were flushed pink. She was sort of beautiful, Bosco didn’t feel right letting her die. She sighed. “No, I can’t let her die. There has to be another way.”

“Well, you could fall in love with her yourself? That way it doesn’t matter. Or you can just tolerate it and see if your indifference breaks the spell. It’s very very rare, especially with humans because their souls are more fragile, but it’s worth a shot.”

Bosco groaned inwardly. “You know I’m incapable of love, me falling in love with this human girl of all people, is definitely impossible.”

“You never know, but I’m gonna go now. Good luck with sleeping beauty over there.”

The line went dead and Bosco slumped against the wall, a pit in her stomach. She’d been living in these woods for hundreds of years and had never stumbled upon a human, nevermind one who accidentally poisoned herself with love for Bosco, someone who was notoriously anything but warm and fuzzy like she suspected Jasmine was.

#jasco #witch au

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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

Text

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 3

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 3497 (oops 🙈)

Additional note: what you’re going to read is not realistic.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

With his stomach in knots and a frown on his face, Ivar watches closely his godfather, who enters the living-room, wheeling a large trolley case behind him.

"Hello, Ivar." Floki looks around, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "Lagertha isn't here?", before flopping down on the corner sofa.

"No," Ivar shakes his head, wheeling up next to him, "She's out on a date with this English guy... Hammond, Halmund or whatever his name is."

Scratching his ear, Floki tilts his head, "but she knows you're going, right?" He pulls the trolley case closer and then snorts, mumbling under his breath, "don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes!"

"What do you think? Of course, she knows. She said, and I quote," Ivar raises his hands to make air quotes, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance, "'Of course you can go, sweetie, you know I don't want to be the one holding you back. Call me if anything goes wrong. And don't forget to take your meds.'"

"She cares, Ivar." Floki's tone is soft as he places a hand on his godson's shoulder.

Ivar lowers his gaze. "You should have taken me in." His words are barely audible and suddenly he feels like he's eleven again and he has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

"You do know that back then I wasn't in a good place." Floki's sad sigh almost gets Ivar in tears as memories of his parents and Helga flood his mind. The pain in his heart becomes nearly unbearable but he fights it off with all his might. He never wants to feel broken and lost again.

Ivar lifts his head up and Floki can see the stubbornness in his eyes. "I could live with you now."

"No, you could not, and you know it!" Floki smiles and taps Ivar on the cheek. "Ivar, I live between two flights, today in Norway, yesterday in Iceland and after-tomorrow in Canada. What kind of life would this be for you, huh? And besides, living with Lagertha is not that bad."

But living with Sigurd is! Ivar wants to shout. He keeps quiet, though, shrugging before eventually mumbling. "Guess not..."

"So," Floki starts, eager to change the subject, "where are your brothers, by the way?"

"Where do you think they are, huh, you knock-kneed fool? They're already there." Ivar glances at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Harald's party started twenty minutes ago."

"We better hurry up, then!" Crouching down, Floki slowly opens the suitcase under Ivar's scrutinizing gaze.

"Quick!" Ivar commands, barely able to contain his impatience, his nervous fingers tapping his push rims. "What do you have for me, old man, huh?" He even contemplates climbing out of his chair to open it himself, but the fear of breaking a bone at the worst possible time is stronger than his eagerness.

"You're going to calm down, young Padawan." Floki quips, slowly moving his hand in front of Ivar with eyes full of mischief. Ivar immediately slaps his godfather's hand away, mumbling under his breath, "I'd rather be a Sith Lord." That earns him a loud, hysterical laugh from his godfather.

Ivar grunts, ready to protest, but all thoughts leave his mind as soon as he's able to see what is in the trolley case. The scowl on his face obvious, he doesn't even try to hide his disappointment as he utters, "you made me braces?"

He hates braces with a passion. Along with underarm crutches, he had some, as a child. They were bulky, stiff, painful and walking with them was tedious, agonizingly slow, and exhausting. Ragnar had been adamant that he wanted his youngest to walk, no matter the struggles, no matter the nearly unbearable pain. Ivar had settled his ass in a wheelchair the day of his father's funeral, getting rid of his braces shortly after, a decision he had never regretted. So no, such torture devices were not at all what he was hoping for.

"Have a little faith in me," Floki rolls his eyes. "These," he looks lovingly at the strange contraptions in his hands, "are not braces, Ivar. Have you and your crippled ass ever heard of exoskeleton?"

Ivar's eyes widen. "It's that thing used in rehab that allows paraplegics to walk, right?" As Floki nods, Ivar gives him a puzzled glance. "But, erm, you do know I don't have a spinal cord injury, don't you? Or are you suffering from memory loss? Maybe it's your age?"

Dismissing the remark with an exasperated wave of his hand, Floki hisses, "I'm well aware that you don't, godson dearest," before narrowing his eyes, his voice now serious, "you may have full sensation in both legs, yet they can't exactly support your weight and your lack of motor function can't be denied. Not really different from some paraplegic dudes, what do you think?"

Feeling a heavy lump in his throat, Ivar frowns, not pleased with the idea of him being like a paraplegic. Almost without thinking, he contracts his quads as best he can, as if he wants to make sure he's still able to do it.

Floki doesn't miss the barely-there movements in his thighs, though, and his voice softens. "Look Ivar, you're not a paraplegic, okay? But I used the exoskeleton technology. And since you're not paralyzed, I was able to make a smaller device that you can wear underneath your clothes, and you're going to walk. I mean, really walk, not just like those guys in rehab, between parallels bars and with a PT right behind them."

Ivar, his eyes bright, stares at his godfather, slack-jawed with amazement. "I'm..." He begins to sputter, voice filled with emotion, "I'm really going to walk?" Feeling like his heart is pounding out of his chest, he fails to contain his excitement, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his lap. He'd tap his feet if only he could.

"You are." Floki nods before taking out of the trolley case a pair of dress shoes. "I put dozens of sensors in the insole of these shoes, which will enable the exoskeleton to correct your stance practically every second. Therefore, you won't need crutches, although I would say it's safer for you to use this." Reaching down, he grabs a black derby-style cane, simple and sleek in design. "You know," he shrugs, "just for extra support. Better safe than sorry, hmh?"

Ivar, who doesn't even flinch when he sees the walking stick, just reaches out, his hand grazing the carbon fiber exoskeleton. "Is it really for me?" His eyes filled with wonder, his voice trembling, his lips stretch across his face as his godfather nods. "And you made this in what?... four, five days?"

Letting out his signature giggle, Floki waggles his fingers in front of his face. "Even I couldn't make this in such a short time. No, the truth is, I've been working on it for a while. Let's say your phone call just sped things up. Though I must say, this marvel of technology is not flawless... It has a really low battery life, like four hours of autonomy at best. If I had more time, I certainly could have done better, but for now, it is what it is and you'll have to make do with what you've got." Pursing his lips, he glances at his watch, "So, just so you know, if you put this on now, you'll have to come back around midnight if you don't want to have to crawl around. And if you hear a beep, you'd better hurry, okay?"

As Ivar just nods, his beaming smile never fading, Floki adds, tilting his head, "and now, go get ready, young Padawan, you have a party to attend!"

***

Sitting on a bench at the seaside, Ivar watches the party from afar, a feeling of uneasiness tightening his chest. It was a mistake. Attending to this party was a mistake. Despite the exoskeleton, despite the fact that he walks almost normally, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't be here. Anxiety surges like the swell of a wave, and he struggles to breathe. Sigurd was right: he doesn't belong here, doesn't belong to this life.

A part of him wants to leave. It would be better to run away, to go hide in his room. But he won't. He can't. Because just a moment ago he saw you. Because he's not ready to give up on you now that he is here, eventually close to you.

He recognized you the moment his eyes fell on you. Looking radiant in a polka dot dress, you're as pretty as he remembers. Pretty? Who's he kidding? The girl you were six years ago was pretty. You're a woman now, and one of the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Glowing, smiling at everyone, you didn't even see him. In his head, of course, he makes plans to approach you, even if deep down, he knows all too well he'll never muster enough courage to talk to you. You probably wouldn't want him to anyway. After all, he may be standing tall today, yet he's still a freak, a fucking cripple. He's still cursed with his bony, twisted, useless legs. He's still a burden.

Yet, there's this little voice inside of him, barely audible, whispering that you're not like this, that you never were in the first place; and that's partly why the ten-year-old boy he was when he first met you felt drawn to you almost instantly.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing and decides to take a little trip down memory lane, bringing him back to that sunny, summer day of his first – and only – encounter with you. His memory so vivid it's like it happened only yesterday.

He can't hear the chirping of birds as his brothers are loudly playing and bickering in the pool. His beloved mother is nowhere to be seen and he's willing to bet she's taking a nap, but not without first making sure he has everything he could possibly need. Lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, a glass of lemonade within reach and a thick book on his lap, he hardly notices his father coming into the backyard, Harald Hårfager following close behind.

Since Ivar knows Harald is here to talk business with his father, he pays no attention to the two men, who take their seats at the patio dining table.

He nearly falls off the sunbed when a tiny voice startles him. "Hello!"

Stunned, he turns his head towards the voice and comes face to face with a smiling girl he doesn't know. You. He'd say you're about his age.

"I'm Y/N," you tell him, waving your hand shyly. "I'm at my uncle's for the weekend," you keep going, pointing your finger at Harald, "and I was wondering... May I join you?" You finally ask, dragging a second sunbed closer to his.

His first instinct is to look around, because you can't possibly be talking to him. Why would you? Surely you can't have failed to spot his leg braces, nor his hideous orthopedic shoes. You can't have missed that he's a cripple.

Frowning as he sees that no one is around, he snorts, his nostrils flaring. He can tell you're wearing a swimsuit under your pink dress. What do you want, then? Are you here to mock and ridicule him or what?

"You better get in the pool with my brothers." He knows he sounds rude, not answering nor greeting you, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be made fun of and doesn't intend to give you the chance to do it.

Seemingly undeterred, you speak with a soft voice. "No, I'd rather not." Your smile is so genuine he can't help but think you mean no harm. "Actually," you shrug, sitting next to him, "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind. What are you reading?"

Gobsmacked, he just looks at you – and gods, how pretty you are! – for a long time, unable to utter a single word. Are you truly interested in what he's reading? Interested in him? He swallows hard, his heart racing. A small smile dancing on your lips, your kind eyes never leave his as you wait, full of hope, for him to finally talk to you.

And that's what he ends up doing, almost in spite of himself. For the next two hours, he shows you his astronomy book, a gift from his godfather for his tenth birthday, and tells you about the stars, the constellations and the nights he spends watching the sky, when his mother allows him to. And for two hours you listen to him, asking a question here or there and always smiling. He's pretty sure you're not faking being interested in what he's saying.

All too soon, your uncle tells you it's time to go and you stand up with a scowl, letting out a sigh of regret. The next moment, you flash Ivar a grin. "I had a really great time with you, thanks! I'm going back to my mom's tomorrow but I hope we can spend time together again sometime, maybe next summer. I'd love to stargaze with you, you know?" With that, you lean forward and as your lips touch his cheek, Ivar's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Ivar inhales deeply. That kiss... That's when he fell madly and hopelessly in love with you. If he concentrates enough, he can still feel the softness of your lips against his skin, still smell your sweet, flowery scent.

That day, he had watched you leave with a smile on your face, already dreaming of the day he would see you again. You had said "next summer" and even though it was a long time away, he was willing to wait. In the meantime, he would have plenty of memories to recall - your joyful voice, your sparkling eyes, your lovely smile... Sure, he could wait.

And he had waited, hopeful and happier than he had been in a long time.

Not long after, however, his life had been turned upside down, his father being murdered and his mother dying in a car crash. Lost, angry, broken, and infinitely sad, he had gone through the following months as if anesthetized - barely living, hardly functioning, sometimes feeling as if the memory of you was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Yet, and he doesn't know why – or perhaps simply because Ragnar being dead, Harald had no reason to visit anymore – he had never seen you again.

"Hello!"

His whole body freezes and he stops breathing. This voice... Your voice... He'd know it anywhere. Yet, it can't be, right? Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is one of his brothers tricking him? Why would you talk to the cripple?

"My name is Y/N." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I was wondering... May I join you?"

Summoning the courage he's not sure he has, Ivar looks tentatively toward you.

Gods! You're even more beautiful up close. Fuck. Now that you're here, right next to him, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Panic seizes his hammering heart as a lump rises in his throat. He attempts to swallow around it to speak, to say something, anything, but the words won't come out and he finally just nods, his hand gesturing to the bench for you to sit on.

"Thanks," you give him a broad smile before taking your seat.

Ivar cannot believe his eyes. What are you doing? Did you recognize him? Why are you here, with him?

"Woul–", he sputters, struggling to find his voice, "Wouldn't you rather be there?" Pointing his index finger at the crowd gathered in front of the makeshift stage just a few meters away. He frowns, tilting his head, "the party is in full swing."

"No, I'd rather not." You shrug and as you turn your head toward him, he breathes in your sweet scent, suddenly feeling dizzy. "The guys are already drunk and really have one thing on their minds. And those who are not are boring." You lower your gaze, as if embarrassed, and it's so adorable Ivar feels like his heart is melting. "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind."

Oh, he doesn't. He doesn't mind at all. The truth is, there's a fucking firework inside of him, and he barely contains the screams of happiness that threaten to escape his lips. "That's okay, you can stay," he says instead, his fidgeting fingers dancing on his lap.

Over the next hour or so, the conversation flows easily as you speak about Karasjok, the small town where you live, telling him about your mother's people, the Sami, their culture and customs.

Ivar shares with you bits and pieces of his life too, speaking about his passion for the Viking culture and about his belief in the ancient gods. The night, his night, is full of your laughs, full of your smiles, full of you. He wants it to never end.

He's still trying to figure out if you know who he is, if you remember meeting him once when you rise to your feet, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Walk with me, will you?"

He's about to break the truth about his inability to walk when he remembers that actually, thanks to Floki, he can. His eyes never leave yours as he grabs his cane with a little bit of self-consciousness, wincing as he stands up, but he can't see disgust, contempt, or disappointment on your face and your smile doesn't falter as you delicately slip your hand under his free arm, curling your fingers back over it. Shaken by your sudden proximity, Ivar feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

"It's such a lovely night and I'm so happy spending it with you."

Your words leave him speechless as you lead him close to the water. A bunch of guys can be seen in the distance and Ivar is pretty sure his brothers are among them. He can feel their heavy stares on him and doesn't need to hear them to know what they're saying. "Who's this dude? Do we know him?" Standing tall, with his braided hair and a blue suit, he knows he doesn't look like himself. Yet, as he locks eyes with Hvitserk for a second, he'd sworn he sees a hint of recognition crossing his brother's face. And as the latter gives him a thumbs up, he knows his mind is not playing tricks with him.

"Oh, I love this song!" You clap your hands twice before shrugging shyly. "Let's dance, please!"

Ivar's heart breaks. Scared out of his wits, he swallows hard, his breathing uneven. "I... I can't." It's a painful admission, and he wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

He realizes you pay no mind to his defeated tone, though, as you grab his cane, leaning it against a nearby tree. "We'll go slow, I promise."

Almost in spite of himself, he places his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Gently – cautiously – swaying to the music, Ivar leans in close and, inhaling deeply your delightful scent, he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust. Your head resting on his chest, he's sure you can hear his frantic, pounding heartbeat. But he can't bring himself to care, not when you're finally exactly where he wants you to be. In his arms.

That's why he doesn't hear the first beep, or if he does, he doesn't pay any attention, entranced by your beauty, your kindness and the mesmerizing color of your eyes.

But when you stop dancing, your eyebrows raised, "What's that beeping noise? It doesn't stop," he hears it too, cold sweats washing over him as panic courses through his body.

"I... I must... I must go," he stammers, and honestly he's about to throw up. He can't think, can't speak. All he knows is that he doesn't want you seeing him crawling around. He won't allow it. He can't.

Fuck.

That's why he leaves. He just strolls off. He doesn't see the appalled look you're giving him, doesn’t' realize he's leaving his black cane behind, doesn't hear the despair in your tone as you shout, "wait, please! I don't even know your name!"

He has only taken a few steps when crocodile tears run down his cheeks, blurring his sight. It hurts so much he could scream, and he can barely breathe as the realization starts to sink in. Who was he trying to fool? Sigurd had been right all along. No matter the exoskeleton, no matter the genius of his godfather, he's still a freak. A monster. An abnormality.

He doesn't belong. He's not worthy.

Fuck.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces.

Fuck.

Y/N.

Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927 @dini73

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

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may-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Don't Take My Sunshine

summary: love like yours was forbidden in the time period, afraid of ridicule that you both could face, you and wanda remain a secret.

warnings: mentions of old fashion punishment

word count: 2,330

masterlist

a/n: thank you for 500 followers! I've had such bad writer's block for the past couple of days but I hope you all enjoy this story.

((feel free to send in any request you may have 💕))

------

She was the sun, bright and warm whenever she wasn't around; your life felt dark and dull. You cherished moments spent with her, even if they weren't long. You knew she was constantly busy; even a second of her time was precious. When Wanda announced in a letter that she'd be around much longer this go around, you were excited when her letter read that she wanted to enjoy every wakening second with you.

Wanda showed you that she loved you in many ways; although the girl never spoke a word of it, you knew the feeling was there. It was too hard to ignore the chemistry that poured out over the two of you when you were around; it was impossible to ignore the pound and burn of your hearts when near each other. Love was a simple thing when it came to Wanda; she showed it in the way she looked at you, held you, and even sent gifts to ensure that you'd known that you were in her thoughts. Even when she was away, Wanda was determined to make sure you understood and remembered the inevitable feelings that you both had for each other.

Wanda often feared that if she had not been around long enough, your feelings would disappear during all the lonely days you'd have to spend without her, so she always went out of her way to make sure you knew how she felt. Words were never enough for her; she could never imagine the words that would seep past her lips could give her feelings justice, so she never tried. She never dared to let her feelings mutter past her lips in fear that you'd think she was being foolish.

You were the only one who truly understood her; she was only herself around you; god forbid anyone found out about her secret, she'd be burned at the stake, but you swore to keep her secret buried deep inside you till the end of time. She trusted with everything she had that you would keep that promise.

When the carriage arrived, you could feel your heart thump against your chest, all the time you spent longing for the woman, and now she had only been a few feet away. You hoped she meant every word she wrote in the letters; the purest form of hope was set upon your shoulders as you waited anxiously by your family's door. You anticipated for her to step out of that damn carriage, nibbling on your lip. You were excited to spend every moment you two had left together, hand in hand as she promised.

But, when Wanda stepped out, she was arm and arm with a man; he looked important enough, he looked expensive. The dress Wanda wore must've cost a fortune; you had never seen such luxury up close. Wanda's lips were painted red; they held a smile until she watched the way yours dropped. You felt like a fool at that moment, staring back at the young couple who stood tall. You couldn't understand the meaning behind all this, so you turned back into your family's home, leaving Wanda and your family to greet each other as you raced to your bedroom.

You were alone, drowning in your thoughts for a moment before a soft knock sounded by your door. You yelled for the person to go away, but they had not listened; instead, they pushed open the door. Your breathing was sharp when you met her gaze, your frown deepening.

"My love, what's troubling you?" she questioned, her voice sweet and gentle. There was a moment when all your anger melted away, and all you could see was her, dressed up all lovely. "what's troubling me?" you scoffed, your eyes watering and your lips quivering as you took a step towards her. "that man!" your voice raised as bitter tears leaked from your eyes.

"darling," she hummed quietly, her hands coming up to hold your cheeks. "It's not like that with him." she smiled down at you, her hands caressing your reddened cheeks, wiping away the droplets that pooled over and damped your cheeks. "He's like us," she reassured, causing the pound in your heart to subside. "oh." you breathed out; a soft giggle burst past her lips.

"I can't exactly travel alone." you knew that women couldn't take a trip without the assistance of a man; you hated that it never crossed your mind; you should've never assumed the worst. "I could never cherish another," she whispered before you could utter out anything else; the woman leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. It silenced all the nagging thoughts that made your head spin; all you could feel and focus on was her.

Wanda relentlessly broke the kiss, her hands caressing your face for a moment longer before she ultimately moved away, a tender smile taking over her kiss bruised lips. "We can't stay long; the others would wonder." you stood tall on your tippy-toes, catching her lips in a shorter kiss. It was almost painful to break away from such pleasures, but you knew deep down, wanda was right. You feared the idea of your family finding the two of you; you knew you'd be ridiculed for committing such acts.

----

Your mother was determined to find you a suitable man to marry you off. No matter the number of times you fuzzed and yelled at her that you weren't ready, she never listened. She was prepared to find you anyone to pass you off to, which is why the meetings and dinners occurred. You figured with Wanda as a guest, she'd push aside the thoughts of marrying you, but the idea that wanda found herself a man only encouraged her to find you someone quicker. It'd be a shame to the family name if she were unable to find you a partner.

The man was sweet enough; he was charming even. You knew deep down that he wasn't the problem, but you felt emptiness as you looked at him. It felt like nothing, unlike the swirling fits of emotion you felt for Wanda.

"I would like to marry you." he reminded, a grin taking over his pink lips; you cringed at the thoughts of being his wife, the mother to his children. You recoiled at the idea of having to spend every night of your life sleeping next to him. "I wouldn't." you spat out, giving him a sarcastic smile before taking a sip of your piping hot tea. It burned the tip of your tongue, and as you swallowed down the flavorful liquid, it stung your throat. It brought some form of comfort, the remainder that you could still feel despite the void you felt engulfed you like the black hole.

"Why not? I could give you the life women could only dream of." you could roll your eyes, he had nothing to offer you, and no amount of fortune could ever fulfill you. "I'm in love with another," you stated bluntly, shrugging when you watched the smirk on his lips disappear in the blink of an eye. He could be a devilish shapeshifter with how quickly his emotions alternated.

"So why am I wasting my time then?" you did not have any words for him as you showed him out, grinning to yourself when you were alone. The silence was so pleasing, you could finally hear your thoughts, and they screamed so loud for Wanda. She was all you could think about; you dreamt of her every night, the concept of running off to live with her somewhere filled you with euphoria.

Your mother's nagging soon followed the silence, but you drowned her out, your mind so far away that you could hardly snap back into reality; you were happy in your head. There were no troubles in the paradise that lived within your thoughts.

------

Laughs filled the crisp wind as the two of you walked hand in hand around the field of wildflowers. Nothing could disturb the sanctuary that had been built around you and Wanda. The town was nosy; anyone could spread the news that you found love in a woman, but at that moment, you couldn't care. Wanda turned to you abruptly, her hands laced with yours. You leaned up against your favorite tree, one your great-granddad built in honor of your birth, and smiled up at the woman.

"I could die today and feel so complete knowing I have you." her words filled your ears like music, all too rich. You squeezed her hands, staring up at Wanda with adoration. "I love you." the words seeped past your lips; you had written it out to her so much before, but you never spoke of it.

"I love you a million times more." her words left her lips almost as a promise, a commitment for eternally. You reeled the woman closer until she was only a breath away, catching her lips in a passionate kiss that would undoubtedly leave you both gasping for air. Your jaw would ache, and your lungs would burn, but your heart would fill so full.

A gasp sounded, causing the both of you to break apart abruptly, your heart pounding against your chest, your eyes wide, and your breathing uneven. "Your mother told me to fetch you." the stranger stated, his gaze moving between you and wanda. "I was not expecting to see such heinous things; your folks will be hearing about this," he swore with a look of disgust; you could feel your heart in your stomach when he turned away and began storming back in the direction of your home. You called out for him, moving to chase after him to stop him in his act, but wanda caught your hand, preventing you from leaving.

"It's no use, my darling." she frowned, her hands lacing with yours. "We must try something." you cried for her to figure something out, fix this for the both of you somehow, but by the look on her face, she could not think of anything. The truth was out, and now you'd have to face the consequences of it all.

You dreaded the idea of having to walk into your home and face your family; you knew it would end so terribly. You swallowed hard; your hands shook; it was fear that washed over you; you were bound to face your certainty. You knew you would be told that your freedom to see Wanda was revoked, and they'd force you to marry a man of their choosing, or worse, the two of you would be burned for expressing your love for each other in public, none of this would end well.

The house was quiet, and for a moment, you could've been fooled into thinking the man had never returned to your home and spoke a word of your affair with Wanda. "It'll be okay, dear," she whispered into your ear, but then your father stern voice boomed through the quiet residence.

"What is this nonsense I've heard?"

"Father, I can explain." you tried, dropping the woman's hand and entering the home completely. You felt small under his gaze; you wish you could melt away into the floor and disappear from your father's glare, but you couldn't; you could only stand there in horror. "Wanda, you must leave," he uttered, you snapped your gaze over to look at wanda from over your shoulder.

"I'm not leaving without my beloved." she crossed her arms, standing tall and bold. She had not been afraid of the man; she was not frightened of anything. She'd never let anything stand in the way of her loving you.

"She's not yours to love," he growled; the woman huffed, taking steps forward to grip your wrist. "She's all mine, sir."

"If you do not leave this instant, I will notify the authorities." she scoffed.

"Call who you want; it won't change the fact that I'm in love with your daughter, and I will be until the end of time," she argued, her hand tightening with yours before she pulled you closer to almost protect you from him. "You can't,"

"I can, and I do," she stated bluntly, rolling her eyes when he turned and left the both of you, giving her one more warning to leave. You knew she wouldn't go, but you needed her to leave; she couldn't be here. She could be hurt or killed, and you'd never be able to live with yourself if something happened to Wanda.

"You must go!" you shouted, ripping your hand from hers, watching as pain washed over her expressions. "I will not,"

"He'll kill you," you yelled, causing her frown to deepen. "I'll be happy to die for your honor."

"Go, Wanda! Gather your things and go!" her eyes clouded with tears, and her plump lips quivered. Nothing could ever pain her more than leaving you behind with such troubles.

"But I love you."

"And I do you, but you must go." you reached up, your hands cupping her cheeks softly. "Go for me, my dear." The powers that Wanda tried so hard to conceal had been bubbling up inside her veins, but then you leaned up and left her with a chaste goodbye kiss, and it soothed her long enough to prevent anything from escaping.

"I'll write to you every day," you reassured, wiping away the stray tears that escaped her bright eyes. "That will never be enough."

"It has to be for now."

Watching Wanda leave stung, it felt like a part of your soul and heart had been ripped from you, and now you felt nothing but emptiness; you were alone. Wanda was the sun, and you were a flower; you could never survive without the comforting warmth and brightness that the girl provided; you were nothing without her, and every day until you could see her again, you'd feel as if you were already dead.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximov #wanda marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x you #wanda #marvel #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff angst #wanda x reader #wanda mcu #scarlet witch x you

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

sex tapes

— Midoriya Izuku is an overanalyzer in every aspect; it shouldn’t surprise you that he’s into making sex tapes too. When you’re stuck at home for an indefinite period of time, it’s finally time to pull them out and watch them together. —

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pairing: midoriya izuku x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, sex tapes, spanking, sir calling, fuck machine, bondage, choking, slight degradation, dom!midoriya

word count: 3,697

a/n: i’m sososooososoosoosooso tired.... I apologize for any and all mistakes i did this from 2 am to 6 am...........im so tired...... this is for the bnharem collab as always, check out the masterlist for the otherssss buhbye!

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“You want to see our sex tapes?”

Two hours ago, you had complained about needing something to do.

Two weeks ago, Japan had been closed down indefinitely due to a pandemic. A virus sweeping across the nation that had even medical professionals with quirks unable to help. As Pro Heroes, you were given leeway to continue working under specific circumstances.

Until things improved, Pro Heroes were not allowed out unless circumstances changed. A particular unit of one hundred heroes was permitted to keep up their patrols throughout the entire country because of their immunity to this virus. Unfortunately for you, both you and your boyfriend were not apart of that group.

Thus that meant that you were trapped at home.

Izuku Izuku had been your sweet boyfriend for a little over a year.

Two years after graduating from U.A., you had found yourself falling for your old schoolmate who worked at a nearby agency. He was no longer the short, awkward teenage boy that he was, but instead this tall stupidly buff adult Pro Hero. On top of his flowering, good looks, the two of you began to have instances together. Instances where you would both find yourself running into each other during patrols, having each other backs during team-up missions, and the many parties your old classmates pulled. It was only a matter of time before you held the sweet boy’s collar in your fist, and despite the aggressive look in your grip, you pressed a loving kiss to mouth.

The rest was history.

He was truly something else.

But you also learned somethings about your boyfriend that you didn’t realize was a thing until you were far too into this relationship.

For starters, despite how kind he was, how calm, beautiful, altruistic, and self-sacrificing he was in and out of his hero persona, it didn’t bleed into the bedroom.

While there was no arguing that he was a true hero, his aftercare was most definitely the best care of your life, you were almost ashamed to admit that you thought he was vanilla in bed. Not that there was anything wrong with being vanilla, you just didn’t expect him to keep a straight face at the feeling of your breasts pressed against his chest.

You didn’t expect Izuku to be a sadist of sorts, using his quirk to inflict pain on you. To hold you against ties, sex toys stuffed in every available hole in your body. You didn’t believe he would whisper such lewd things in your ears, taunting you to not cum again despite his cock ramming into you at such bizarre speeds that you were completely overwhelmed. You couldn’t begin to fantasize the way that he would force your body into different positions -- positions you didn’t think possible of yourself! At every instance, he surprised you, destroying all of the theories your old classmates and you had once put together during late-night gossip sessions. As you grew used to this new side of Izuku, the side that made you seriously contemplate if he had some type of split personality, there was one thing you should have noticed from the beginning.

For the most prominent thing that shocked you was the one thing you should have seen coming from the very beginning.

The thing that just made sense for your over-analytical boyfriend to be into.

Sex tapes.

It took a single month of your sexual endeavors to begin for him to ask. You could remember it like yesterday; the way his green curls plastered to his sweaty forehead, his muscles tensing with his heavy breathing when his cock pulled out of your abused cunt. His green eyes, nearly black in their lasting lust, a reminder that you were his, trailed down your body.

“Do you mind if we try something new?” he asked, fingers massaging warm circles into your body. You had nodded, always eager to please your boyfriend in bed. “Do you mind if I film us?”

Had you known what you knew now, you definitely would have said yes still. But maybe you wouldn’t have been so willing to put up with every single time you two fucked if you knew this is what was going to transpire from it.

With the quarantine in place, the two of you could do nothing but watch the news in anticipation for the government to call for more Hero backup. Two minutes under quarantines bleed into two days into one and a half weeks.

The two of you were restless, on edge, and near feral.

Neither one of you wanted to be stuck indoors, and it was beginning to transpire into your daily interactions. Who knew you would miss physical interaction?

But you two find common ground in releasing this built-up tension through passionate love affairs. You had always believed you and Izuku had a healthy sex life, the both you always finding time to get a good fuck in despite your demanding lifestyle. But this was different.

All-day, the two of you were going at it like horny bunnies in heat. If you hadn’t fucked on every inch of your shared apartment yet, you most definitely have now. The liter of lube the two of you had was gone in five days, and you were beginning to cross off all the sexual fantasies the two of you wanted to try.

Pegging? Done.

Sounding? Done.

Upside down sixty-nine? Done.

Food play? Done.

Every essential role play in existence? Done.

Putting on his costume and fucking him? Done.

You two had definitely gotten a lot of the ‘let’s try it out to see if we like it’ kinks out of the way. As a matter of fact, you were still recovering from wax play gone wrong because you didn’t have the proper wax but were too impatient for the proper one to come in the mail. There was a perk in being a masochist, you guessed.

If you were honest, you really wanted to watch the sex tapes he had of the two of you. There was something oddly hot about sitting on the couch in front of the T.V. and view the various shots of the two of you fucking. You wondered how different it looked like from an outsider’s position, or if it seemed as good as it had felt. However, you didn’t know how to bring it up without being embarrassed.

So after failing to bring it up, you were stumped on what new to try. To get past this, the two of you had resorted to a website that had over 500 kinks and were now going through it. Things took a turn when Izuku sat behind you on the couch, his hands holding your waist, lips pressing against your neck while you scrolled through the list, trying to find one you both could agree to at the time. But you were never good at paying attention when Izuku’s lips pressed sinfully against your neck.

It took no time for you to straddle his lap, fingers raking through his thick curls, ragged moans pouring from your mouth when you ground against his hardening cock. His fingers gripping your waist in the same spot so hard you wouldn’t be surprised at the time this was all over your skin would be permanently dimpled in that area. Mouths meshed together in wet lust, his tongue coercing you for louder noises, more dramatic reactions to his dizzying force.

It’s when he presses your shoulders against the cushions of the couch, his teeth imprinting against your sensitive skin, do the words slip from your mouth.

“I-I wanna see our s-sex tapes,” you stammer, heat flashing deeply through, burning through your core as if you hadn’t had sex in years.

For months now, he’s kept the videos hidden from you. You didn’t watch them, they definitely weren’t leaked anywhere, and as you said, your sex life was healthy, so there was no reason for Izuku to be watching them for pleasure afterward. Especially not of late. Your need to watch them on your T.V. was too high, and with them plaguing your mind, it seemed to come out now.

Thus the question that started this all poured from Izuku’s mouth when he pulled away from you.

“You want to see our sex tapes?”

His forest green eyes peered down at you, they weren’t their usual nearing black with lust eyes, but instead a light green.

Excitement.

Darkened eyes were almost universally known as a promise for something good to happen, but no, not for Izuku. A smile spread across his face, pink tinting his cheeks while he nods his head in that same boy like excitement.

“Such a dirty fucking girl, wanting to get off on watching us fuck? ...I’ll go get it!”

Light eyes on Izuku was a threat. A promise that you had no idea what you were getting yourself into, a sign that you were going to be nothing but an experiment for him to try out.

Izuku stood up, his tall frame seemingly bigger than he was, and walked away. You let out a ragged breathe that you had no idea that you were holding in while he retreated to where his phone most likely was.

You lay awkwardly on the couch, pushing up against the plump cushions you could only imagine what his plans for you were. You didn’t expect him to pull out popcorn for the both of you to eat while you watched this, not after feeling his hard cock against your crotch.

But what would he do to you?

You yelped when his fingers grabbed your wrists, tugging them upwards, forcing you onto your feet. Blinking rapidly, you watched while Izuku wrapped a silk tie around your wrists, attaching it to the hook on the ceiling most definitely not to be used to hold your weight.

“Izuku?” you whine when he appears before you in a flash of green electricity.

“The thing about our sex tapes is that I take them for... educational purposes,” Izuku sighs, his thumb running against your lower lip. He coats his thumb lightly with your saliva, his eyes remaining bright when he pushes your mouth down. “I take them to make sure that I fuck you properly each time.”

You whimper when his fingers hook around the waistband of your shorts and yanks them down. Your mouth drops in a shriek because something cold and full enters your cunt.

“If you want to watch them, that means I expect you to learn to. I want you to be able to fuck my dick the way that I want you to,” he sighs in your ear, obviously pleased by the way you arch into him. “Don’t worry, y/n, if you do well, you’ll get the real deal. If not? Well, we have time to waste until you get it right, don’t we?”

“Izuku, I didn’t think you,” you try to form sentences, but your mind is already foggy when he places a stool between your legs. It dawns on you that this wasn’t just a dildo that he shoved into your cunt, it was a fuck machine. “Holy shit…”

Izuku chuckles, stepping away from you and turning on the T.V. You watch while he connects his phone to the T.V., your arms already feeling like lead above your heads, and nothing had even started yet. His phone connects, and you watch with growing shallow breaths when he makes his way back behind you.

“Don’t look away from the screen, baby girl. I don’t want you to miss anything.”

Your eyes shift to the T.V., a familiar scene of your naked, cum stained body showing up on the pixels before you.

It was the very first sex tape.

“Now, I’m going to be giving you instructions. Pass them, you get my cock. Fail them, and well, we’ll see how long you can last there until you get it right.”

Without a second delay, the video plays, and with it, the fuck machine is turned on.

You watch the screen Izuku, and you kiss sensually. Your body stiff under his, obviously tired from the rounds you’d already endured. Izuku’s arms wrap under your legs, quickly slipping his cock back into your cunt, and the pornstar moan that ripped through your screen you’s voice made you scarlet in embarrassment.

“See, right there,” Izuku speaks to you from behind, and you shudder. The feeling of the cock slamming up into you was something new, the new angle was something similar yet different from riding Izuku’s own. But the tension of keeping yourself was proving to be a challenge. “When you circle your hips, throw your ass out more. Don’t be a prude about it.”

Your eye focuses on your swiveling hips, and you see what he’s talking about. Your ears burn in embarrassment, and you stammer in your discomfort. But before you could genuinely get your opinions out, a heavy hand comes down on your ass.

He slammed his right hand against your ass cheek, making you shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. The sharp pain made your legs buckle, a hot pressure igniting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on your opposite cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you yelped loudly when Izuku yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your wounded skin. His light, but still wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“What did I fucking say?” he whispers in your ear. “I said to follow my instructions—” his hand comes down against your ass with every word, ignoring your growing wails— “I’m the one who’s keeping you from my cock, so you better start listening because my patience is already thin.”

The next spank that comes across your ass nearly sends you stumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms tremble above you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Izuku abused your ass.

“Answer me, baby girl.”

There was no stopping Izuku’s mighty hand against your tender ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks.

It delighted you.

“Y-Yes, sir!” You pant, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more.

“You like this, don’t you,” he laughs almost delightfully while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “I guess we’ll have to make this harder for you.”

And harder, he made it.

Izuku came for your speed, intensifying the machine that was currently slamming into your squelching cunt, insisting that you needed to outpace the machine. At one point, he even grabbed your waist and assisted you on your conquest of out fucking the sex machine, but it was overwhelming you. You could barely hear Izuku’s corrections, his demands for you to improve the dipping of your pounding hips, his advice of how you should be louder in bed, of how you should stop using your head so much.

But right now, you could no longer keep the focus on the POV video of you sucking his cock and were entirely mesmerized with the dildo thrusting into you and the way the recently placed gag felt in your mouth.

The fuck machine blows into your tight and slippery cunt, your eyes rolling backward at the mere sensation of the speed it was at, and a loud mewl leaves your throat. His fingers snuck behind your head, unfastening the gag, and was removed with a saliva string, and a sob croaked through your voice as your mouth was finally free.

“Suck my dick just like that, baby girl,” on-screen Izuku pants, pleasurable noises following after only fueling the hot lava heat in between your legs.

You whimpered, watching yourself take his cock into your sore throat. The ever so eager on-screen Izuku wasting no time starting his face fucking.

You try to keep up with the momentum of the toy, pretending they were his viciously thrusting hips on-screen. Your hips fall against the toy despite its insane speed, keeping up with it according to the praises that now fall from Izuku’s mouth. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you moan, seeing yourself choke against his cock. Izuku chuckles, standing up behind you, his hands fondling with your breasts, his moans satisfactory and low, he was enjoying this a lot by the feeling of his cock pressed into you from behind.

“Look at you, so desperate,” Izuku chuckles, his fingers tweaking your hard nipples. “So fucking needy.”

The words ignite a fire within you, and your legs tremble in unspoken glee. You wanted him to fuck you until you were nothing less than a mess. You needed him to give you his cock instead of this stupid fucking machine.

“IZUKU, PLEASE,” you scream, no longer satisfied with the fake cock stimulating your core. “PLEASE FUCK ME! PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR DICK! PLEASE, I NEED IT SO MUCH!”

Izuku chuckled, somehow pleased with your desperation, and with the sloppy noises of you sucking him off on-screen, and the machine billowing into your cunt, he let you free from the ceiling.

He threw you against the couch, your tied arms moving over his head and pressing your sweating chest against his taut one. His fingers held onto his cock, teasing your entrance while he stared up at your pathetically needy form.

“Let’s see how well you learned.”

Without so much as a warning, his hips slammed entirely into you, and your mouth dropped into a silent scream at the way his thick cock pressed against your cervix. It was a familiar sensation now, and excitement you had grown to lust over despite the pain it brought you.

You panted as he slammed into you, pulling you by your hips so he could get a rapid rhythm going. You kissed him, saliva, teeth, and tongue clashing together in this desperate clash, you clawed at his back, desperate to hear him snarl. Unsatisfied with his lack of response, you bit down hard against his lip, the familiar taste of iron filling your mouth.

He let out his own pained moan as you sucked at his skin, which only coaxed him to drill harder into you, driving you further down into the cushioned couch that would have your back imprinted into it permanently.

His hand found your neck. “You’re a fast learner, huh?” he squeezed his hand around your neck, while he found the perfect soft spot above your breast to suck on, your choked moans a song in his ears.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you managed to squeeze out, your eyes clenched shut when you felt the burning coil build up in your stomach. “Oh, fuck, Izuku, I’m… I’m so c-close!”

“Is that right?” He said through his own labored breathing. He sucked on his index finger before trailing it down to your sensitive nub and began rubbing it, making your hair stand up on your skin.

His hand against your throat tightened, and black dots littered your vision; the heat of his hands burned against your skin. His teeth sunk far into your shoulder, enough for you to feel your skin breaking as his tongue moved in heated wet strokes to calm your now irritated skin. Then there were his nimble fingers running against your clit, your spastic walls clamming around his hammering and throbbing cock. But your bouncing and swiveling hips-- his taught lesson -- held no value anymore. Izuku’s hips snapped upwards fast enough and powerful enough to overcome and overwhelm you, disregarding any improvement you had made. The only thing you could make out with the way that you were no longer able to keep your eyes open was that his cock was hitting your bruised cervix. The sounds of your sopping wet pussy crashing against his forceful hips rang in your ears in a primal yet excited fashion, and the familiar sound of him using One for All to intensify everything about this fucking.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, and you dug your nails into his back, crying out when an ecstatic wave shot out through you, causing your legs to shake more than before.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he growls, and once again slams into you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

The couch creaks loudly under you, shifting against the floor until you swear you can feel Izuku having to take steps to keep with you against his powerful thrusts.

“Cum, Izuku,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Please, fill me with your cum!”

That’s all it takes, and a hot and heavy load shoots through you, and Izuku collapses onto you. His body twitching while his cock remains hard within you, the feeling of his cum swimming in your cunt, making your head spin with euphoria.

“Holy shit,” you mumble, unable to say anything but that. No amount of fucking had made you feel like this yet.

“I didn’t think you’d have such a… such a good reception to the sex tapes,” Izuku admits, pulling out of you and stumbling to his feet.

“We are pretty hot,” you jest, trying to compose your sweaty and sticky self.

“You are,” he agrees with a sweet smile. “Give me a sec to clean you up!”

You could only hum when he presses a last kiss to your mouth before retreating to get you cleaned up. Your eyes fell on the camera that had been recording everything and was still recording. A smile perked on your face, maybe you did really like this sex tape thing he had.

#midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #midoriya smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha

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lunaverseimagine · 3 years

Text

Worth Living For

Part 2 of Worth Dying For

Request: “Congrats on 500! I'm new to tumblr and love your blog! can you do Herbology with post war George and telling him you want to name your baby Fred” - @green-intervention So this was a headcanon request for my 500 sleepover but it fit Worth Dying For so perfectly that I made it into a part 2 instead

Pairings: George x Reader

Warnings: Grief, pregnancy, mentions of death

Word count: 1.5k

Fic:

Streaks of moonlight shone through the tall window, casting a gentle glow on George’s face. The white light highlighted the gauntness of his cheeks and the glazed look in his eye, a sight that made your stomach clench.

“Georgie.”

His eyes flicked down to where you were lying on the sofa with your head in his lap. His fingers were running idly through your hair - sensations grounded him, in particular the feeling of your presence. Three months had passed but you were still his lifeline, and you didn’t think that would change soon.

“I think-” You swallowed, maintaining eye contact. “I think it’s time we visit your parents.”

George’s hand stilled and he clenched his jaw. You knew this was a sensitive subject, but equally you knew going to the burrow would be good for him. The burden of grief is easier to bear when the people around you are feeling the same way; when you can share in your mourning. You had loved Fred like a brother but you hadn’t been there from the beginning, not like George’s siblings had. He needed his family, needed to be with people who had known Fred as he did, who felt the loss as he did. He couldn’t keep hiding in your apartment, a truth he knew as well as you did. George sighed.

“I know.” He glanced at your belly, at the little bump just starting to show. Your hand cupped it instinctively. “They need to know.”

You sat up so you were facing George, holding his hands in your own, running your thumbs soothingly over his coarse skin.

“We’ll tell them together.” Leaning forward, you captured George’s lips in a gentle kiss. You focused on being present: the way George tasted of cinnamon. How his hands felt slightly cold in yours. How your knee was pressing against his. You tried not to focus on the sacrifice that had been made so you could be here. The sacrifice Fred had made to save not just one life, but two. How up until now, the pregnancy was tying you and George to Fred’s memory. It was special, something that hadn’t been told to anyone else. You worried that by telling your families, the tie to Fred would weaken, and his memory would slip further through your fingers.

You held George’s hand while apparating, watching anxiously as the lopsided stories of the burrow came into view. When your feet were firmly on the ground you waited for George to move towards the door, but he stayed rooted to the spot. After a moment of taking in the familiar home, a tear slid down his cheek, and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed too. These walls held so many memories of Fred that it was impossible to stand in front of them without the loss hitting you like a bludger. A reminder of all the memories that wouldn’t be made in the future. How Fred would never meet his nephew.

You embraced George, as though you could squeeze strength into him. He rested his chin on top of your head.

“I’m ok love.”

You shook your head slightly at the lie. “You’re not, but you will be.”

You each took a deep breath and walked into the burrow, hand in hand.

Molly was in the kitchen, and at the sight of you she burst into tears, her words incoherent through her sobs. But the bone crushing hug she encased the two of you in said more than words ever could.

“Blimey Molly, what’s wrong-” Arthur stopped short on the last step of the haphazard staircase, eyes widening at the scene in front of him. His face had turned white, and equally pale faces emerged one by one behind him. First Ginny, followed by Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Percy. The Weasleys seeing George must have been an even more emotional experience than that of you seeing the burrow. It was impossible not to feel the missing piece of the family when faced with his twin, like looking at a guitar with no strings. Nobody quite knew how to maneuver the situation, the only sound being Molly sniffing as she wiped her nose with a handkerchief.

Finally the rest of the Weasleys, as well as Harry and Hermione, seemed to come to their senses, closing the distance between you to share hugs and whispered condolences. George was interacting but as though he’d removed himself from the situation, like he was there physically but emotionally he was far away, trying to cope with his feelings. The grief came in waves, this wave feeling like the tallest one yet, and it was all George could do to keep his head above water.

During the day the tone of conversation was kept light, and George became more present, engaging in conversations about what had been happening the last few months. Molly cooked a delicious meal that not only fed you and the baby, but could’ve fed an entire nursery, and as your stomach filled a bit of the emptiness did too. Fred was gone and nothing would make that ok, but there was still a great family who would remember him, and as long as they were alive a bit of Fred would be too.

It was after dinner that you and George decided, through silent glances, to break the news to the family. The chatter had lulled and each individual seemed lost in their own thoughts, although undoubtedly they all revolved around the same person. George cleared his throat.

“Y/n and I have some news.” George looked at you, asking for permission to continue. While neither of you had said it out loud, you knew that this pregnancy was a connection to Fred for him too. That telling other people felt like giving away bits of that connection, which was difficult to bear. But at the same time, maybe there was a way you could honour Fred through the pregnancy, and that’s when the thought came to you. You nodded for George to continue, suddenly buzzing with the feeling of sharing your idea. It was perfect. “Y/n’s pregnant.”

The cries of joy were immediate and heartfelt. George’s hand clasped yours under the table as you were congratulated, hugged, and even kissed by Molly. The atmosphere in the room felt so much lighter, as though this was the good news the Weasleys had been waiting for for three months.

Late into the night, when the celebrations had finally calmed down, you bid your goodbyes before apparting back to your apartment. It seemed less daunting now, knowing that at any time the burrow was just an apparition away. You and George got ready for bed in silence, George reflecting on the day and working through the complex feelings being back at the burrow had brought, you working out how to bring up the idea that had consumed your thoughts for hours. You climbed into bed, laying your head on George’s chest, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.

“Thank you.” His whisper was quiet and soft.

“What for?”

“For telling me to see them.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad it helped.”

For a while you let the silence wrap around you like a cocoon, your safety net. Approaching the topic you desperately wanted to talk about made your hands clammy and your heart race, not knowing how it would make George feel. All you wanted was for him to be happy - what if this was a terrible idea? What if it’d do the opposite of making George happy? That would break your heart. Before you could persuade yourself out of it you piped up.

“Georgie?”

“Mmhm?” You lifted your head off his chest so you could watch him.

“I was thinking… maybe we could- if you wanted to, of course- we could name the baby Fred?” You felt your heart thumping in your chest as you waited for his reply.

Not for the first time that day George’s eyes filled with tears, and he shook his head fondly, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it himself. “It’s perfect.” Arms wrapped around you, he kissed you passionately. Your hands cupped his face, feeling his stubble beneath your fingers. He was in awe of you. Of how you knew exactly what he needed. Knew how to honour Fred in the best way possible, with the baby that Fred had died to save. His legacy.

Eventually George broke the kiss. “What if it’s a girl?” You laughed, and so did he, the beautiful sounds mixing with tears you were getting used to shedding. You savoured the light in George’s eye, how he seemed more alive now than he had in months.

“It’s not.” George grinned at your response.

“How do you know?” You grinned back, and silently thanked Fred for the gift he’d given you. This baby was the light and hope that you and George needed so desperately. You could feel, from somewhere inside you much deeper than reason, that you were right. The baby would be a boy, with an uncanny likeness to his Dad and Uncle. The thought excited you, making the future seem bright despite the current darkness. You rested both hands on the bump.

“Mother’s instinct.”

End

Thank you for reading! I hope this was a bit less angsty than the first part - if you liked it please feel free to reblog/give feedback <33

If you’re interested here’s my other stuff

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #fred weasley #weasley twins angst #george weasley angst #fred weasley angst #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #hp fanfic #death #grief #pregnancy

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scvrllet · 4 years

Text

the inevitable / r.b

Pairing: Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

Summary: Defying the Dark Lord never ends well, you and Regulus learned this from experience

Warning(s): death, brief mention of torture, angst but with a fluffy ending (you’re welcome, we all know I usually would’ve left it angsty)

Words: 3k+

Prompt: “Run away with me, it’ll be worth it.” will be in bold

This is for @obsessedwithrandomthings‘ writing challenge (congrats again on 500 followers!)

A/N: I cannot write fluff I’m so sorry if you cringe. Also I’m posting this at nearly 11pm so idek if anyones gonna see this

General HP Taglist: @summer-writes @lunaralpha270 @tinylumpiaa @slytherin-chaser @bloodblossom73 @peachesandpinks @mischiefsemimanaged @accio-rogers @iamak20 @klaus-m-trash

Permanent Taglist: @sleep-i-ness @emmaloo21 @62442-am @flowersgrewbackasth0rns @imintoodeeptostop

Regulus stood hunched over the basin. The green glow of the remaining potion acting as a cruel reminder of what remaining torture he has to go through. Kreacher stood in front of him with a goblet in his hands. Regulus nodded and gulped down the potion, feeling the burning sensation as it went down.

He’s only had a few sips and so far, have only felt like his insides were on fire. As uncomfortable and painful it was, he forced himself to take more until his surroundings seemed to change.

(Y/N)?” He rasped as his vision started to focus on the figure sprawled out in front of him. When his vision finally focused, that was when he started screaming and scrambled to get up. Kreacher quickly dropped the goblet back into the basin and went to hold back his master who was mumbling stuff under his breath.

“Master Black, you must drink the potion.”

“(Y/N)! She’s there! Kreacher let go of me, she’s going to die!”

“Master Black, (Y/N) isn’t there. You must drink the potion.”

By this point Kreacher had to force the boy to take the potion and he hated every single second of it. Hearing his Master’s cries and protests to save someone who wasn’t there. Kreacher only hoped that they’d be out of here soon.

Taking more of the potion only made the visions worse. He kept seeing you, then Sirius, then the both of you laying in front of him. The two of you, dead before him just before the vision changed again. This time, Regulus recognized it as a memory. It was the first time he had gotten into a fight with you.

“I just don’t see why you’re so worked up on this (Y/N). I’ll be fine, just because my family supports him doesn’t mean I’ll become a Death Eater.” Regulus said, his tone laced with annoyance as he lied straight to your face.

“Than run away with me, it’ll be worth it. I promise. You won’t have to worry about Voldemort or your family. It’ll only be us. Just say the word, take my hand and we’ll go.” You pleaded desperately

It hurt him to see you so stressed over him and it hurt even more that he was lying to you. He was already branded with the Dark Mark but he just didn’t know how to tell you. He didn’t even know if he wanted to tell you.

“No, (Y/N), I can’t. He’ll find us, find me somehow. That will only put us into more danger.” Again, lies spilled out from his mouth.

Regulus now wondered if he had taken your hand, would have things turned out differently.

When the potion was finally gone, Kreacher quickly grabbed the locket and switched it for the one Regulus had brought that contained the letter.

“Water. I need water.” Regulus mumbled, looking around the cave before crawling towards the dark lake surrounding the island they were standing on.

“Master Black no!” Kreacher protested but it was too late.

Immediately after Regulus and cupped his hands into the water to bring some to his lips, white ghastly hands had started to crawl out from the water. Several of them from all sides of the island. It was as if they were waiting for him.

By the time Kreacher made it to Regulus’ side, the inferi were already dragging him towards the water and they both knew that there was nothing that could be done. Before he was pulled under the water, he gave Kreacher one last order, fighting to stay above the water for even just a few more seconds.

“Go! Don’t tell my family anything, and give the letter to (Y/N). Protect her at all cost and destroy the locket”

The House elf nodded and with a guilty expression, appeared out of the cave and back to 12 Grimmauld Place. The sounds of his Master’s screams and cries echoing in his head as he appeared into the home that felt colder than usual. He quickly called for his master’s owl and gave it the letter. “To Hogwarts, to Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

---

Mail at Hogwarts was usually delivered during breakfast unless it was considered urgent, then it’d be delivered straight to the recipient’s dorm.

You were sitting on the edge of your one of your dorm-mates bed when a pecking noise was heard from outside the window. It was one of your other dorm-mates who decided to open the window after you waved it off as a tree branch on the window.

“It’s not a branch (Y/N),why would there be a branch here? Anyways, it’s a letter for you.” They said as they handed you the letter.

The second you grabbed it from her hand your brows raised as you recognized the Black family crest stamped in the middle of it, sealing the envelope shut. “Regulus?” you mumbled as you got up to go sit on your own bed.

For the past month you noticed that he was acting differently and just a week ago he apparently left school. You just assumed that his parents needed him home for some urgent business and that was why he didn’t tell you anything. He was a busy boy after all.

Breaking the seal on the envelope you took out the piece of parchment which was written in black ink. Your heart swells as you read what was written in it.

My little dove,

If you’re reading this then it means that I have been killed. I’m sorry I’ve kept you in the dark about this but I found out something about Voldemort. He’s created this thing called a Horcrux. He’s not human, not anymore. For the past month I’ve been trying to figure out where to find it and possibly destroy it. I know that you’d probably scold me for doing a suicide mission but that’s now why I haven’t told you anything. It’s because I know you’d join me and do anything and everything so that I could live but I can’t let that happen. I’m ashamed to be a part of this family and shamed to have waited so long before finally realizing how horrible it actually is.

There isn’t much time. I’m writing this the night before I go to the cave with Kreacher. Hopefully he is able to destroy the Horcrux and he’ll be mortal once again.

Also, another thing. Please don’t tell my family anything or anyone in general, especially Sirius. If they ask about me just say you don’t know. Sirius would go out of his way to try and kill him and as much as I miss him, he’s safer with the Potters. Or at least I hope.

I love you (Y/N), I always have and always will. Not even death can stop me, I promise.

Yours forever, Regulus Arcturus Black.

P.S.

Please don’t rush to see me again. We will meet again when your time comes but for now, your time is far from near. Don’t rush it darling, it’s not a race to the end. I love you forever.

You didn’t notice the tears that fell from your eyes until one landed on the letter you were now gripping tightly. Your dorm-mates had paused their conversation and were now at the edge of your bed looking at you with worried expressions.

“What’s wrong?” One of them asked.

“N-nothing.” You lied.

They either believed it or knew better than to pressure you into saying anything. They simply just nodded and quickly left the dorm to give you your space which you silently thanked them for. When the door closed behind them you fell back onto the bed, your head buried into your pillow as your sobs filled the room. The letter clutched tightly in your arms until you had fallen asleep.

When you woke up the next morning you immediately sat up to make sure that no one had taken the letter and read it. You sighed in relief when it was still in your hands and hid it before getting ready for the day. Getting ready as if you hadn’t just found out that the love of your life was killed the day before. No one could find out.

You were thankful that there was only a week left before the Christmas holidays. Though you had plans to meet with Regulus over the break, you would now be spending them grieving a boy that no one but you and Kreacher knew had passed. You only hoped that the week would end quickly.

---

Kreacher greeted you at the door. 12 Grimmauld Place felt colder and lonelier than ever as you stepped inside.

The House Elf led you to the Drawing Room where a yellow locket rested on a table. You looked back at Kreacher who nodded, already knowing what you were going to ask.

“So this was the Dark Lord’s Horcrux, Salazar Slytherin’s locket.” You thought to yourself as you picked it up to examine it.

“Kreacher has not been able to destroy it.” The old House Elf croaked.

“And why would Kreacher do such a thing?” A voice said suddenly from behind the two of you. You instinctively grabbed your wand, ready to defend yourself and Kreacher but as you turned around two spells were shot towards you. The locket along with your wand dropped to the ground and a third spell was aimed at your chest, causing you to stumble and fall onto your back.

Kreacher tried to intervene but with a wave of their wand, the attacker who you have yet to get a clear look at, sent the House Elf flying into the closest wall. By the time he was on his feet, the attacker was standing by your side and harshly grabbed your shoulder before apparating out of the house. Kreacher stood there for a moment, taking in the fact that he had failed his Master not just once but twice.

“My Lord, this is the girl.” Your attacker said, they bowed at the tall dark figure who stood before them and that was when you finally recognized who it was. Bellatrix Lestrange, Regulus’s cousin who was an extremely loyal Death Eater to the Dark Lord. It was said that she was even obsessed with him and you wondered how twisted someone must be to be obsessed with a man like him.

“And where is the locket?” The figure, who you assumed was the Dark Lord, asked. His voice was calm which surprised you. You expected him to sound colder, cruel even.

“I-I didn’t see it.” Was Bellatrix’s reply which caused the Dark Lord to finally turn around.

“Well then, why don’t we ask our guest then.” He suggested as he slowly stepped closer towards you. Crouching down in front of you, he placed two fingers under your chin and lifted your head up so that you were looking him in the eye.

You were once told that the Dark Lord was actually an attractive young man while studying at Hogwarts. Many girls fawned over him but he paid them no mind. He seemed to have his own gang of ‘friends’ who ended up to be his very first Death Eaters. No one would have thought that the he would have rose to power at such an early age. Over the years, as he started to become a dark wizard was when his features started to look less human but they were subtle. From a glance you would have assumed that he was just another wizard but upon closer inspection you noticed the subtle snake-like features.

“Now, have you seen a yellow locket? More specifically, one that shouldn’t have been touched from the start.”He asked you calmly, a wicked smirk on his lips as he watched you try to appear calm.

“No.” You lied through gritted teeth.

His smirk seemed to grow as he let go from your chin. “Liar!” He seethed as he stood up straight.

He turned to Bellatrix who stood behind you and you felt your heart drop to your stomach when you heard him say, “Bella, do as you please.”

The sounds of his footsteps retreating echoed through the dimly lit room and when the door behind him closed shut you prayed, prayed for some sort of God or deity to spare you from what you knew was going to come.

“Looks like we are going to have some fun.” She said in a sickly sweet tone before grabbing her wand and pulling you up by your shoulder.

It felt like hours had gone by as you laid on the cold ground, not you minded. You liked the cold ground. It was better than Bellatrix’s wand burning into your skin or the cruciatus curse that felt like white-hot knives piercing your skin.

Just when you had thought it was over, the pain filled your body again. Your bones felt like they were on fire and you tried to bite back a scream. Bellatrix only giggled, seeming to love the pain she was inflicting as she rasped her wand and pointed it at you again.

“Please.” You had managed to say. Due to the hours of torture you had just gone through you were surprised you had enough strength to even speak.

Bellatrix lowered her wand, her eyes no longer bearing that maniac look that often filled her eyes as her expression looked more sympathetic. At this point you were far too weak to even try and figure out if this was all an act or not. A part of you told you to not get your hopes up but on the verge of death, your hopes were already far too high.

She crouched down and leaned towards your ear, her signature smirk returning to her face as she whispered, “You should’ve told him where it was.” before one last spell shot out form her wand.

“Avada Kedavra.”

Your body fell limp and during the last second before death greeted you, a small smile appeared on your lips as your last thoughts were of finally reuniting with Regulus. Then quicker than ever, darkness flooded your vision and you welcomed it.

---

When you opened your eyes again it was no longer darkness that flooded your vision but bright white light. Once your vision adjusted you noticed you were at Kings Cross Station except it was entirely white. Even the clothes you wore were all white. Was this the afterlife?

“He’s waiting for you.” A familiar voice said and you turned around to see your grandmother. You didn’t hesitate for a second as you ran towards her to hug her, a chuckle escaping her lips as she hugged you back. You had lost her the summer before you started Hogwarts and it pained you to not be able to tell her what you experienced there. You knew she would’ve loved to hear what you had to say but maybe now, 6 years later, you could finally tell her.

“As much as I’d love to hear about your years at Hogwarts, I have to wait for someone else.” Your grandmother said as if she had read your mind.

“Mom...”

“Yes my child, though worry not, it is not her time yet.”

Silence draped itself onto the two of you as you realized that your parents had no idea that you had died. You simply told them that you were going to a friend’s house and that you’d be back for dinner but now that wouldn’t be happening.

“They’ll be fine, don’t worry about them. What you should be worrying about is keeping him waiting.” Your grandmother said and you looked at her with a confused expression.

“He?” You asked, not sure who she could have been referring to. She simply smiled and then it clicked in your head. Regulus.

“Take the train down three stops, get off and wait until the train is gone before getting off the platform. He’ll be there waiting for you.” With one last hug, you left your grandmother and hopped onto the train that arrived a few minutes after. You followed her instructions, getting off at the third stop and waiting until the train was fully gone before getting off of the platform.

Getting off of the platform, you were relieved to see that everything wasn’t all white but instead, was the countryside with farm animals and a small cottage. There was a feeling inside you that wanted for you to go towards the cottage.

“I’m already dead so what’s the worst that could happen?” You thought to yourself before heading towards the cottage.

The closer you got the more nostalgic you felt though you couldn’t figure out how. By the time you were standing on the front door step, you could’ve sworn that you’ve seen the cottage somewhere before.

Before you could even knock, the door swung open and a head of black curly hair immediately pulled you into their embrace. You stood there unsure of what was happening until the familiar scent of the boy you loved filled your senses.

“Regulus...” You said softly, as if trying to confirm whether it was really him or not that was hugging you so tightly.

He pulled away, hands no longer holding you close to him but now cupping your face. Tears filled both your eyes though neither of you knew who started crying first.

“You’re such an idiot.” He tried joking as he buried your face in his chest. He held you close, pressing kisses into your hair as tears streamed down both your faces.

“I love you.” You said, lifting you head up from his chest to look into his eyes that you were starting to miss. You were happy to see that they didn’t look so dull anymore.

“I love you more. But that doesn’t mean you’re not an idiot. I told you to take your time which meant not to go and try to destroy the Horcrux. I even told Kreacher to protect you but clearly-” Pulling his face closer to yours so that you could kiss him caused his lecture to abruptly stop as he melted into the kiss.

The moment lasted for a while but ended far too quickly in your opinion as Regulus pulled away and started to lecture you again causing you to roll your eyes.

“You can lecture me all you want but could you at least tell me why we’re here?” You stopped him mid-lecture, pointing to the area surrounding you. For some reason it felt like home.

“This was the life you wanted when you asked me to run away with you,” He replied with a smile that quickly dropped, “I’m sorry for not taking your hand that night. Life would’ve been different, maybe even better if I had but I was scared. I’m so sorry.”

You flashed him a soft smile, pulling his face closer to yours so that you could press a kiss to his check. A blush bloomed on his cheeks and though he tried to hide it, he knew it was no use and just gave up.

The two of you stood there for a while. Not a word being scad but instead, a comforting silence as you both took in each-others appearance. It’s been a while since either of you have been able to feel this peaceful.

“So this is the other side?” You asked breaking the silence.

“I think so yeah. Why? You don’t like it?” The smile on his face turned into a worried expression as he looked at you. His reaction caused you to laugh. Ignoring his questioning look, you placed your hand into his and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“No no, I like it though I don’t really care where we are.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I have you with me.” You replied, looking up at him with a smile which he mirrored.

“You’re such a sap.” He teased.

“But you still love me.”

“And I always will.”

#dees500challenge #regulus arcturus black #regulus black #regulus black au #regulus black angst #regulus black fluff #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black fic #regulus black imagine #regulus black oneshot #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus imagine #regulus oneshot #regulus x reader #harry potter series #harry potter au

443 notes · View notes

caiuscassiuss · 4 years

Text

Birched⎮D. Sicheng (M) P.1

Description: There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous… something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious. (Or, your ill-tempered coworker turns out to be your dominant.)

Sicheng♡Female! Reader

Genre: BDSM/ enemies to lovers winwin! smut | romance | angst WC: 11k+ Warnings: graphic smut (dom! sicheng + sub! reader, BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Submission, and Masochism) paddling, fellatio, fingering), taboo relationship, blatant sexism, TW: mentions of an abusive relationship

(A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @won-markiepooh-woo for helping me. This story wouldn’t have been possible without you!!!!

Also, this story contains heavy and graphic BDSM with violent contact play and uncomfortable dialogue. You might not like Sicheng very much here. 18+ please.)

Red, red light highlighted the contours of the woman’s back, and threw the rest of the room into dark, dark shadows.

Slap.

A long, drawn-out, strained moan resounded,.

A sinful smile crawled up the tall, slender man’s face as he looked down at her.

January 5th, 2020

Raesung, Lee

Re: Important Office Notification —

To: y/nl/[email protected], [email protected], [email protected]… view 389 more

To all whom it may concern,

It is my greatest displeasure to be announcing my resignation and consequent retirement from Sinochen Enterprises. I had been the Head of the Sales Department in this great company for over 10 years and it has been a pleasurable experience to work with all of 500 you, in order to better our enterprise.

Words cannot express how grateful I am to all of you, from the interns to my managers, for working hard and honestly over all these years. We experienced a 468% sales increase over my tenure, and it couldn’t have been possible without any of you.

My resignation will be announced tomorrow at noon, but I thought it would be better to get a heads up from myself. In the meantime, until a new successor is appointed, my vice president, Xiao Daiyu, will step in and act in my place. A new email regarding possible successors will soon circulate shortly, and I advise all of you to keep an eye out for it.

Once again, I thank all of you deeply for these wonderful 10 years at Sinochen Enterprises, and I wish the utmost success for this company and all of you individually.

Regards,

Raesung Lee

Department Head of Salesforce at Sinochen Enterprises

Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

Office 1876, 18th floor

Phone: +852 XXXX XXXX ext. 1876

On one side of the island, a woman finished reading her work email. She remained calm, scrolled through her other emails, and shut down her laptop after seeing no such material.

She faced her high rise window, contemplating the Hong Kong skyline.

The email was written in the usual arrogant tone that her Korean boss took. Not a surprise, seeing as she worked with him nearly every day as the South Asia Region Sales Manager. She sighed, kicking up her feet on the coffee table.

A new successor? Y/N L/N hoped and prayed that it would be her.

On the other side of the island, a man finished reading his work email. He remained calm, scrolled through his other emails, and shut down his laptop after seeing no such material.

He faced his high rise window, contemplating the Hong Kong skyline.

Of course, the man was anticipating this as his East Asia Regional Sales Manager. The old coot was due for his retirement, so he could spend time with his many mistresses. He sighed and kicked up his feet on the coffee table.

A new successor? Dong Sicheng knew it like the sky was blue that it would be him.

January 6th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7 AM HKT

It was a rather chilly morning, as your assistant knocked softly on the oak door. You finished putting your light coat on the stand. As you hummed for her to come in, she slowly creaked open the door.

She smiled brightly at you. Genuine, to boot. “Morning, Miss L/N. Do you want any pastries, or breakfast goods, to go along with your usual macchiato?”

You considered BeiBei a good secretary—prompt, meticulous, and all what an assistant should be. Sociable, too. However, even with all her amiable requests for lunch or coffee, you couldn’t consider her as a good friend. After all, there was to be a balance of power to be maintained.

“Yes, that would be great.”

Like everything else in your life.

Work went on as usual in the office—you dealt with the clients, you dealt with HR, you dealt with this and that.

BeiBei knocked softly at the door. She peeked in through the door with her sunglasses perched atop her brunette locks and a scarf around her neck.

“Miss L/N? They asked all of the sales department to meet in Ballroom D for an announcement.”

It was noon already? Christ. “Alright, let me get my things and I’ll go along with you.”

You grabbed your cell phone and Dior sunglasses, then quickly headed out with BeiBei. You lagged behind her slightly as she socialized with her other coworkers, laughing uproariously at some inside joke between them.

You wondered what it was like to be able to make real bonds in the office.

Out of your periphery, a large group coming from the other side of the floor was bustling their way through. In the midst, you could see the blonde head of Dong Sicheng, looking down at his friends as if they were his royal subjects.

Psh, you could never see what was the fuss around this boy. To be fair, objectively, he was good-looking... in that pretty boy kind of way. All of his older, middle-aged coworkers looked like pigs next to his lean, pale figure. Yet, all of the sales department, and probably half of the office, thought he was the next best thing since the vibrator.

You thought he seemed too nice, too friendly to be true. Sicheng had the innocent flower boy looks, but you could see the dark edge he kept from everyone. You could see how his smiles never reached his eyes, how his words were always friendly but strained. Dong Sicheng was disingenuous as hell, and it bothered you, but why waste energy over such a matter?

You’d rather focus on other, more productive things.

Namely, the Sales Head promotion.

Your South Asia and his East Asia division converged in the middle of the lobby, forming an even more boisterous crowd. Everyone slowly piled into the elevators to go down.

You were reaching the chokehold of the crowd, but unfortunately you were a bit on the shorter side. It was hard to see where you were going in this crowd, and you wouldn’t dare raise yourself up on your tippy toes, like some fresh intern.

“Ladies first.”

You looked up to see Dong Sicheng smiling at you brightly—his arm extended to herd you into the crowded elevator. You couldn’t help but see a mocking tinge to the curl of his lips.

“Thank you,” you said.

After you had stepped into the elevator, he followed immediately afterwards. You had no choice but to be eye level with Sicheng’s chest. You two were so close that you could smell his cologne, and it briefly think of his cologne all around you—

No. Never. No. No. No. No. No. Nope.

Dong Sicheng would not tempt you.

January 6th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

9 AM HKT

The department filed out of the ballroom, murmuring amongst themselves about the new development.

“Oh my god, we all know Xiao Daiyu will never be promoted. Yeah, she may be vice president, but Daiyu can’t do shit.”

“Well, who do you think will be promoted?”

“Certainly not you, Lina.”

“Hey, I—”

A new voice enters. “I, for one, think Y/N should be promoted. She’s smart, driven, and you actually get things done when you work with her.”

A hum of agreement went over the little group. Some of them nodded along quietly.

“That’s not a bad idea. She’s cold as hell and kind of intimidating, but I wouldn’t mind working under her.”

You pretended not to hear their conversation, but you felt ecstatic to hear your name in regards to the promotion. It was hard to admit it to anyone other than yourself, but you thrived off of attention and vindication more than what was healthy. The satisfaction of being praised, of getting the answer correct or being complimented was as heady as being drugged.

“Y/N is great and all, but you know who’d I rather have as sales head? Dong Sicheng.”

Your jaw clenched unconciously when you heard that blond asshole’s name.

“Kinda agree. Sicheng’s friendly and it’s easy to talk to him. We also get a lot of work done with him too!”

You could not hear any more of the conversation as they had walked out of earshot, but you felt… sour. You swore to god—if that asshole gets the promotion, you will leave the damn company.

Well, whatever. The likes of Dong Sicheng would be wiped from your mind after the fun you would have tonight with Dolos.

January 6th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

12 PM HKT

“Hey Sicheng, what did you order?” Some coworker of his said to him.

Sicheng felt an inward flush of irritation. Couldn’t people leave him the fuck alone and let him eat his meal in peace? Without interrupting him about how XX from the implementation team did this and YY from IT did that?

“Oh, hey, um—” What the fuck was his name again? Joon? Jin? “Jae, I ordered a teriyaki salad. It’s pretty good, I’d recommend it.”

There. That answered any potential questions Jae may have and clearly signalled the end of the conversation so he could eat in peace.

“What about the grilled chicken salad? Have you tried it?”

Alas, not all well-thought out plans would be fruitful.

He continued conversation with his inane coworkers around him at the lunch bistro they always frequented. It was tiring, keeping up the facade of a friendly office boy. His impatience wilted slowly as the people tittered and tattered, laughing and gossiping, god—they were so stupid.

“I like your tie, Sicheng. It’s very nice.”

He turned back towards the conversation as soon as he heard his name.

The so-called department hottie was staring at him from her seat a couch away—her eyes slightly widened, in an attempt to be vexing.

“Thank you, Tzuyu. Might I add, you look very nice today,” he said, as he forced a smile on his lips.

The brunette blushed heavily and turned away in bashfulness. Ugh.

Don’t get him wrong.He rather liked blush on a woman. But, Tzuyu was the kind of woman that would not put up any type of fight, if he chose to seduce her. Sicheng liked the thrill of the fight, the thrill of gradually pressing his control into someone until they were submissive to only him.

God, but Y/N was someone he’d like seduce.

Sicheng thought back to the moment when he courteously gave his spot in line to her, yet she only thanked him off-handedly. Y/N was the only one in the whole damn complex that didn’t give a fuck about his amiable facade and treated him as callously as one would beneath them. He clenched his fist, thinking how uppity and standoffish you were to snub him. That was something that couldn’t ever be forgotten.

Luckily, he knew his darling Dove would be there tonight to take the edge off his anger.

Friday January 18th, 2020

A Busy Street

6 PM HKT

You huddled a light coat around yourself as you checked the address on your phone.

353 Cornerstone Ave.

You looked up at the British colonial-style building, slightly reminiscent of the Ritz-Carlton a few blocks away. The building was probably a remnant of colonization. Nevertheless, it was beautiful.

Your heels clicked against the marble floor, as you dipped into the establishment named Black’s Spa. Swiping off your sunglasses, you beamed at the beautiful lady behind the receptionist desk.

“How may we help you today? Are there any services you would like provided?” she asked.

The corners of your lips turn up. You’ve always liked this part of the game, where you have to gain access into a club. It felt like you were a femme fatale in one of those old Bond movies your father loved.

“Hey, afternoon. I’ve been hearing about this rope treatment. I’ve heard it does wonders for your muscles.”

The girl’s pink tinted-lips twisted into a grin.

“Right this way.”

The zen, stark white corridors of the spa that the dungeon pretended to be eventually led to an innocuous bookshelf. The lady felt around the shelf for the handle underneath the dark wood paneling. A hum of affirmation left her mouth as she closed her well-manicured hands around it.

With a click, the shelf gave way to a dimly lit room that looked like the parlor of a traditional British gentleman’s club. What little light there was was provided by candles and glittering chandeliers, which reflected off of the dark oak paneling of the room. Rich Persian rugs and velvet sofas dotted the room, and the hum and tinkles of conversation meandered around. However, little details quickly ruined the impression that this was a respectable establishment of any sort.

For one, many individuals here were scantily clad. Yes, some were in suits and proper evening wear, but that was contrasted heavily by the diffusion of revealing lingerie sets and sculpted chests. Second, there were casual warning signs posted about the room, asking patrons to practice safe, healthy, and consensual sex, alongside the expensive paintings.

Black’s was the best dungeon in East Asia, no doubt. It was such a bitch to gain access into the club. Yet, what made Black’s so popular was not its top amenities or the luxurious atmosphere—it was the utmost anonymity it provided.

The depravity that happened in these walls stripped even the most upright individual to their most primal, lustful states. People became lumps of flesh, starving for the next release. The eclectic mix of businessmen, trust-fund kids, and professionals hungered for the anonymity that they would be hard-pressed to find in a regular dungeon (as regular as one could get for being a BDSM dungeon, anyway).

The best way Black’s maintained privacy?

Masks.

You quickly donned your own dove gray mask, securing the silk ribbons in your hair to prevent it from falling off. Tonight, you were Dove. Tomorrow, you will be Y/N. It was easy to slip into the subspace once you donned your mask, but you couldn’t really immerse yourself into it—not until your master came to you.

A quick glance at your watch told you it was only 10 PM. Dolos had told you in his letter that he would find you at 10:10. He certainly was a curious individual—one with an obsession with symmetry and a penchant for old-fashioned tradition. For fuck’s sake, his letter was sealed by a green wax seal.

But Dolos was everything you never knew you wanted.

Deciding to amuse yourself with one of the exhibition rooms, you wandered into one that seemed crowded. A girl was strung up on stage, hands bound with chains connected to the ceiling. Her black hair hung around her face and she was as naked as the day she was born. Her voluptuous figure bared to the hungry crowd—a metal table full of paraphernalia was next to the cross.

A brutish man, clad in a wifebeater and tight jeans, walked up to the stage.

“My slave has been rather naughty,” he announced. “She had the nerve to touch herself without my permission.”

A murmur arose from the crowd, whispering and gasping and giggling heard amongst the shadows. For a slave to pleasure herself, without her master’s permission, was a serious ordeal around these parts.

The man drew a finger against the side of her breasts, causing her to shiver and a gleam of arousal to run down her leg. “Today, my dear little slave will see what happens when she doesn’t obey her master seriously.”

“Let’s start with something light. Flogging.”

A curl of delight ran through you. You loved flogging; each hit stimulated different parts of your body that ultimately brought you to the brink of an edge. A bit of heat rose in your bosom imaging Dolos, with his Cat O’ Nine Tails, flogging your ass until you were red.

A whimper was heard as he struck her stomach lightly with a cat o’ nine tails. He began alternating strikes against her breasts and inner thighs, as she whimpered and cried, begging for her master to touch her there.

“Oh dear, only good girls get touched in their sweet spot. What’s the magic word?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, sir! Please!”

“Better.”

A strangled scream echoed throughout the hall, as he struck her repeatedly in between the crux of her legs. After the girl was left shaking, he whipped off the juices she left on the leather strands then threw it behind him. You shifted uncomfortably, crossing your legs tightly to ignore the burst of arousal.

“Bend over!” the man on stage barked, grabbing a paddle from the table.

The slave bent over a table immediately, unwilling to risk the possibility of more punishment.

He inserted a knee between her legs and forced them wide open—her pretty cunt exposed.

You could only see a flash of his swing as his paddle connected with her backside, a thunderous smack resounding. Her gleaming arousal was almost to her knee now, and the poor dear was visibly shaking and could hardly stand.

A high-pitched whimper came out of you and you quickly bit your lips, hoping you weren’t heard. Your panties suddenly rubbed you in the wrong places and your knees knocked together, in an effort to stop the heat emanating from your core.

“I see my little girl has lost herself on her way to the Salon.”

A gasp left your mouth as you stared back into a burgundy mask, burnished with gold.

Dolos.

“M-master, but it’s only 10 PM—”

He chuckled—a dark, delicious sound—and stretched him over the chaise you had settled yourself in. Slim, tapered fingers played with the ends of your hair as his plump lips curved into a dark smirk.

“Wrong, dearest. It’s 10:15. What time did I write in the letter?”

You hung your head, playing with the ribbons on your dress. “10:10, sir.”

He tugged on your hair, forcing a whine from you. He tsked.

“Your master has been waiting patiently for 2 weeks to play with his favorite little girl. And yet, she’s late?” You knew he was teasing you, but a sliver of real anger and irritation slipped into his voice. Immediately, you felt guilty and your bottom lip trembled. You had disappointed your master.

“And what do little girls who are late get?”

“T-they get punished, sir. I’m sorry—”

His lips turned downwards until he was sneering. “An apology isn’t going to cut it, Dove. We’re going to the Salon right now.” He roughly took your wrist and pulled you out of the room. Interested eyes followed his clearly irritated and furious gestures.

“Your safe word, darling?”

“Sappho.”

“Sappho, what?”

“Sir.”

His eyes, through the holes of his mask, darkened. “God, I will never get tired of hearing you say that.” Dolos turned around.

Dolos has been your dominant for the last 5 months, and fuck, he has been the best one you have had. Your participation in a public demonstration had led to him stealing the contract from your previous Dom, who was already supremely possessive at first glance. Your eyes, he had told you, were the most expressive he had ever seen. They were the ones that had convinced him to enter into an exclusive contract.

Your eyes traced his tall stature, the broadness of his back highlighted by his nondescript white shirt. The quote from Julius Caesar came to mind. “Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world/ like a Colossus, and we petty men.” Such power, such arrogance.

The Salon was Dolos’ room of choice, since he was a legacy member of Black’s. Filled with toys hidden behind halcyon scenes of the English or French country sides and tall, imposing dressers, the room merely looked like a noble bedroom but the things that occured in it… not so much.

“Bend over my lap, sweetheart. I’m thinking… hm, 10 slaps? Double the time you made me wait. What do you think?” He mused, throwing himself into an armchair.

You settled onto his lap, lifting your skirt and exposing your pretty, pink panties beneath. A mixture of nerves and arousal made your hands tremble, but the haze and glossiness of subspace settled over you easily, like your favorite blanket.

“Whatever you deem necessary, sir.”

His chest rumbled. “Good answer, little one. Such a good slut for me, huh?” He whispered to himself, running a paddle over your bare ass.

You barely heard his acclamation of “ten it is” before the paddle delivered a stinging slap to your left cheek. You unconsciously jerked up until his arms forced you down.

“Count for me, Dove.”

“One!”

Another one, but to the flesh of your thighs.

“Two!” you bit out.

Dolos’ hit parts that surrounded your core, but never actually reached touching it. Moisture began to dampen your lacy underthing and you had to bite down on your lips to stop from grinding yourself on his thigh like a brazen whore.

After the ninth slap, he palmed your ass carefully. His fingers dipped in between the folds of your pussy and you held your breath.

“Already, so wet? Christ. Clean me up and I’ll hit you the place I know you want me to.”

Swiping your tongue over his digits, you looked back at his mask and saw the tension at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” Without warning, he shifted aside your panties and struck the paddle against your throbbing pussy.

“TEN!” You sobbed, unable to keep from sagging into his lap.

He hushed you and ran a comforting hand over your ass, smoothing over the red marks you were sure glowed.

“What a good, good girl you are,” Dolos cooed, caressing your cheek. His thumb wiped away your errant tears and he smirked, patting it.

“On your knees.”

You scrambled out of his lap and onto the carpet, wincing as your heels met your sore ass. You looked at him, wide-eyed, for his instruction.

“Suck my cock.”

A blush spread over your face at his frank wording and your hands moved to unzip his trousers, but Dolos made a noise of disapproval.

“With your mouth only, slut.”

Your hands bunched the fabric of your dress tightly and you squeezed your thighs together.

“Yes, master.”

As you took the button in between your teeth, you used a combination of your lips and tongue to unbutton his trousers. Once opened, you slowly dragged the zipper down all while looking up at him innocently.

His length, girthy and flushed an angry red, sprung out of his trousers. Licking your lips, you looked up to him for permission.

A sly smile came across his face. “Go, darling. This is your reward.”

You took the head of his cock in between your lips and swirled your tongue over the salty precum. He groaned, a gutteral noise from his chest, and his fingers clenched the plush arm rests of the chair tightly.

Gathering some of the precum on your tongue, you released his head and ducked down to take his testes in your mouth. You licked the length of his cock, finishing off with a playful suck to the head.

An angry glint flashed in his eyes. “Stop teasing, slut. Get to it.”

Dolos clenched some of your hair at the back of your head in his fist, and the pain from the sudden action caused your eyes to water. You’d gotten the message loud and clear.

Spitting on his cock, you took half of him in your throat, bobbing and hollowing your cheeks. Your master made sounds of appreciation, loosening the grip on your just a little bit.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, relaxed your throat and went farther down on his thick cock. You were no novice, but you had trouble taking him so deep—even after such a long time together. The tip of your nose touched the base of his cock and you hummed in satisfaction.

The vibrations from your throat seemed to set him off. His previously relaxed grip tightened again and he forced down on his cock until your face was smashed in his crotch.

“Mmph!” You gagged from his sudden, violent action.

“You’re such a fucking tease, fuck,” Dolos groaned, his head tilted back in pleausure.

Forcefully, he fucked your mouth without mercy. You could barely breathe, and the combination of the pain from your hair being pulled, your throat being abused, and the slick between your thighs caused tears to run down your cheeks.

“You know you like this, whore. You like gagging and choking on your master’s cock. You like being used like a little slut, don’t you?”

Unable to respond, you focused on trying to breath through your nose as he abused your mouth.

“Don’t you?! Answer me!” he shouted, pulling your head back.

More tears dripped out of your eyes at this pain, and you nodded quickly with his cock in his mouth. Dolos narrowed his eyes and forced you further on his length.

He quickly set a cadence and it felt like your mind was filled with cotton. The only sensations was the pain from your throat being stretched, his groans of satisfaction, and the throbbing in between your thighs.

“I bet you’re dripping right now. What a slut, getting off on her throat being fucked,” he sneered. His face was flushed as he neared his peak.

Your knees started to throb in pain, your joints aching at being on the ground for so long. His thrust even harder and faster into your lips, prompting a squeal.

“I’m getting close, slut,” he said between clenched teeth. You could feel the hard muscles in his thighs tensing in anticipation for his orgasm. You sucked even harder on his cock, swirling your tongue in figure eights on his length.

“FUCK!” he shouted, eyes clenched tightly. Both of his hands grasped your head and forced your head onto his cock until your nose touched the base. You gagged and prayed to breathe as warm liquid splashed down your throat. He thrusted his hips harder into your mouth, riding out his orgasm.

Dolos pulled out and left the tip of his cock on your opened mouth, tapping his length on your tongue as cum spurted out erratically as he groaned. You flinched as he slapped his cock along your cheeks for good measure. He slumped back in his chair after he rode out his orgasm, his broad chest breathing heavily. In the low light, he looked like a fallen angel with his head turned up towards the heavens.

I will show you how us mere mortals can reach the gardens of heaven from earth, he had said to you once.

You waited with your mouth open, still painted in his seed, for instruction. A few drops of his seed dripped on your chin and onto your chest.

Dolos took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your head side to side. He paid attention in particular to your smeared lipstick. A beatific smile crossed his lips and he was so beautiful in that moment, so wicked and debauched and depraved it made your heart ache.

“What a gorgeous mess I’ve made.”

Tuesday January 21st, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

8 AM HKT

Raesung, Lee

CC: [email protected]

Re: Important Office Notification —

To: y/nl/[email protected]

Y/LN,

It is with great pleasure for me to inform you today that you are being considered for the Head Salesforce position at Sinochen Enterprises. Your name has come heavily recommended to me, and your previous boss has given me a glowing review of your performance these past few years. I, myself, have enjoyed your hard-work and impressive work ethic in your year as Head of the South Asia Division. Two other people are being considered for the role, and you will hear more from Daiyu and I about several interviews and necessary materials. I know you will practice the utmost discretion regarding this email.

Regards,

Raesung Lee

Department Head of Salesforce at Sinochen Enterprises

Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

Office 1876, 18th floor

Phone: +852 XXXX XXXX ext. 1876

You squealed but quickly clamped a hand over your math. This was it. This was the culmination of your dreams coming true. Being the Salesforce director for one of the largest companies in Asia… shit. That would prove your mom and everyone in that shitty-ass town of yours wrong.

After quickly shutting the door and the windows, you did an undignified jig around your large office filled with fist pumps and silent screaming.

“Y/N-laoban, I have the files for—”

You froze.

“...For… uh… you know what, I’ll just come back later—”

“No, it’s fine, BeiBei.” You cleared your throat and sat back into the chair. “I just had exciting news, that’s all. Come, please hand me those files.”

Beibei quickly handed them to you and moved to scurry out of the room and back to her desk.

“Wait! Beibei, could you grab me an Iced Americano? I feel like I need a treat today.”

Her young face peered at you curiously and nodded furiously.

“I-If it isn’t too much to ask, laoban, what’s the good news?”

Uncharacteristically, you beamed at her. She seemed a bit frightened at the sheer excitement you were exuding, so you toned it down a bit.

“Let’s just say I might not be the Head of just South Asia any longer.”

“I hear congratulations are in order?”

You looked up from your double-screens to see the extremely pretty face of Dong Sicheng. His plump lips pulled in a sort of mocking smile.

“For what? I don’t recall getting engaged nor getting pregnant,” you retorted.

“I overheard a little birdie telling her friends that her boss might move up in the world.” Sicheng pushed off the doorway and moved to place a long-fingered hand over the back of one of the couches.

A sigh left your mouth. Oh BeiBei.

He drummed his fingers against the back of the couch. “Although, I am surprised Raesung is considering someone like you for the promotion.”

Your eyes snapped to his heavily lidded one. “Pardon?”

“You know, someone of your… type.”

“Elaborate.”

He sighed, like he was dealing with an ignorant child, and moved to lean over your desk.

“We all know when push comes to shove, no matter how icy your demeanor may be, individuals like you will eventually succumb to their emotions.” His mocking smile was an attempt at his nice-boy persona around the office— that made you want to throw your paper weight at his face.

Your jaw clenched. “I knew your family was traditional, Sicheng, but I didn’t expect they were this intransigent.”

He moved closer. “The old ways keep our heads at the right place, woman.”

A snort left your lips. “And I suppose customs guide the ignorant?”

His smile grew razor sharp. “Exactly.”

Your teeth clenched around your tongue. “Excuse me, Sicheng, but I’m afraid I have a meeting in a few minutes—not all of us are as lax as a board member's son.”

Ignoring the barb, he watched raptly as you stuck all your files into your purse calmly. As you moved to show him to the door, he stalled.

“I think you’re forgetting something, Y/N.”

“I’m afraid you have me at a loss, Sicheng. Please hurry.”

“Don’t I get salutations as well? I’m the other person being considered.” He smirked.

Thursday January 23rd, 2020

Your House

9 PM HKT

“Hi, mother. How are you?” you asked.

“Aiyo, my old bones are holding up, but you know what would make me feel more at ease?”

“What, mama?” You kicked off your heels and threw yourself into your lumpy, comfy couch. It was time for that conversation again.

“If you settled down with a nice man and gave your grandfather and I grandkids.”

“I am busy.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard you. “I know there are a lot of nice men at that company of yours. Surely there is a rich laoban that you can settle down with? You are not unhandsome, after all.”

“I am my own laoban.”

A moment of silence. “Ah, that’s good I suppose.”

“Thank you, mama,” you replied dryly.

“Aiyo, but you know men won’t like that! The good sort of men want good, obedient wives. How are you going to serve your husband and raise your kids if you are working such a busy job?”

“You say that as if I will marry or have kids.”

A loud gasp came from the other end of the line. “Y/N, you will give me a heart attack early! Husband, Y/N will kill me early!”

You heard a faint grunt and your mother subsequently scolding him.

A migraine started to form. You loved your mother as much as one daughter could, but she was very traditional in the way she looked at things. She had raised you from a young age to be an obedient, well-trained wife of a village man like her. Mother had good intentions of course, because that was all she knew. This was the best way she could prepare you for a good life.

The only reason she let you move to the city was because she thought you would find “good quality” (her words, not yours) men in the city. She only approved of you applying to Sinochen because not only did she see the name emblazoned across her noodle and food packets, she also knew very rich men worked there.

You really had thought that once you had moved to Hong Kong, everyone would be Westernized with more flexibility in their mindsets. But the higher ups in your company diminished those hopes very quickly.

Especially for country-bumpkin you.

You hadn’t known the Hong Kong dialect Mandarin, the new slang and modern mannerisms. Adding onto the fact that you were a woman, Sinochen did not treat you very kindly until you started to learn that being kind would get you nowhere.

And look at what you are now—a highly-paid business woman at one of the largest companies in Asia, living in a luxurious apartment within some of the most exclusive real estate on the island, along with all the pretty handbags and shoes you’ve always wanted. You even knew you were reasonably pretty and attractive, if the way Dolos looked at you was true. You kicked ass.

“Y/N, please visit us! Your father and I miss you terribly.”

You grimaced at the thought of your dirty and dusty hometown in the mainland. But still, you missed your father, who had supported you silently in whatever ways he could, and your mother, who loved you something deep.

“I forgot to mention! Kunhuang has been asking after you. Aiyo, what a good boy. He comes to our house once a month and gives us fruits, you know? Such a kind, kind boy.”

You smiled at the thought of Kunhuang and his childish face streaked in dirt and playing Catch the Dragon’s Tail in the woods near your village.

“Tell him I said hello, mother.”

“That boy— he owns most of the farms around us, wah—he tells us he misses you. Why couldn’t you have married him? You could've been closer to us, you know. Kunhuang and you would have made such cute grandkids—”

You sighed heavily. “I had dreams to chase, mama. I still do.”

Friday, January 24th, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

Sicheng frowned at the vellum letter in his hand. His dearest Dove was unable to make it this week, citing she had work responsibilities she could not miss.

The letter crumpled in his hand.

He quickly stood up from the armchair near the cozy fireplace at Black’s, dodging various couples or individuals that attempted to coax him into joining them for the night. There was no need for him to be there tonight.

What a pitiful mess he was—over a woman, nonetheless.

When he had first received a recommendation from his uncle to join Black’s, he was ecstatic. Sicheng knew of the rich history and tradition of the club. It was a holdover from colonial times, when bored British aristocrats created a gentleman’s club that quickly turned into a pseudo-bordello as the 19th century chugged on. Legacy and tradition were paramount to the club.

His father was too fastidious to enter Black’s, even though his own father was a frequent patron of the club. For all his faults, he was a loyal man to his wife. Sicheng, on the other hand, was a randy twenty years old looking to unleash his private fantasies onto the prestigious dungeon.

The mask and name he wore were given to him by his Uncle, who retired from the club as Sicheng entered. Dolos was the other side of his personality that Sicheng hid from the rest of the world.

But never had Dolos been so enraptured by his contracted submissive, Dove.

Dove was… perfect. While other women just laid there and received his attention like a rag doll, she responded in kind. Whether it was an adorable gasp from her lips or precious, minute twitches, Dolos never had a problem ascertaining what Dove was feeling. She was also such a good girl for him, as well.

So, so good. Incomparable.

No other woman would do it for him. Well...

Sicheng slammed open the door a bit more forcefully than he had intended. Fuck, not her. Anyone but that prissy bitch. Roughly bidding goodbye to the receptionist of the so-called spa, Sicheng quickly slid into the passenger seat of his Maserati and zoomed off into the lights of Hong Kong.

As much as he’d like to put her in her place, Y/N would never do it for him.

Monday January 27th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

10 AM HKT

Your ears perked up to hear the sound of muffled yelling outside your office. Quickly standing, you peeked your head out the doorway to see Sicheng fitfully waving a crumpled paper in his fist at two employees, towering over them with his mouth pulled into a sneer.

“—I do NOT pay your salaries for you to laze around and produce substandard work! If my secretary had not caught this mistake within the analysis, I would’ve been fucking HUMILIATED at the board meeting for faulty figures! My ass would’ve been on the line—”

Glancing over, you saw the other girls in the office whispering behind their hands with shocked eyes. In any other situation, you would’ve done the same. Pretty boy Sicheng? Nice, kind Sicheng who dimpled at everyone each morning? It would’ve been unimaginable for that Sicheng to be putting two of his employees (Tzuyu and Xiaogui, you think, but can’t see past their bowed heads) on blast—but this one stood in the morning light, proudly and harshly, with a terrible mask of rage.

BeiBei, who was standing outside the doorway of your office and head bowed with her friend, giggled softly.

“Wah, Sicheng looks so attractive like that. He’s usually nice but, ugh, what I wouldn’t do to get him,” BeiBei pointed at the now snarling Sicheng,“—bending me over at my desk.”

Her friend squealed and fanned herself. “I may need to change my panties after this, oh my god.”

BeiBei nodded sagely. “I knew he was in a bad mood earlier, when I accidentally bumped into him in the elevator, but my god I didn’t expect for him to blow up like this.”

“I wonder what made him so mad? I remember when Jae accidentally spilled coffee over his phone and Sicheng didn’t even get angry—just smiled and patted him on the back.”

You frowned, remembering that day. While he did pat Jae on the back, Sicheng’s fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles were white and the veins on his forearms stood out. There was a hidden layer behind his seemingly placid eyes, and your suspicions were confirmed after you saw the janitor taking out a broken lamp from his office late one night.

It was that incident, along with so many other tiny occurrences, that clued you into Sicheng’s secret side. You distrusted him solely on that basis. Otherwise, what kind of trustworthy man would hide something like that?

From the corner of your eye, you could tell that Sicheng looked dangerously close to punching something. You decided to intervene before HR got called. Even you had a heart, no matter how cold you were. However, you couldn’t look like you were bailing them out...

“Tzuyu! Xiaogui!” you barked, startling the gossiping women next to you.

Everyone’s heads snapped towards you, along with Sicheng.

You pursed your lips and adjusted your stance. “The Yang reports were supposed to be in my hand an hour ago. My hands are currently empty.”

Tzuyu looked close to crying, while Xiaogui shifted his eyes to the side.

“Go. Before I tell the finance department and you won’t get your full bonus for the year.”

They bowed to Sicheng, then to you, and scrambled off.

There was a moment of silence, until Sicheng had turned his angry attention towards you.

“Well? Why are all of you just standing there? We have deliverables to fulfill, people!” You scowled at the crowd, which disbursed from your shout.

Sichend had not taken his eyes off of you, not even when everyone left.

“Y/N, can I see you in my office for a moment?” he asked with his jaw clenched.

You narrowed your eyes, but acquiesced, standing by the window overlooking Kowloon Bay as he shut the door.

Sicheng paused for a moment by the doorway, his broad chest heaving. He let out a strangled breath before standing near his desk.

“You do not encroach on MY authority in this office, woman. I know the old men in other departments let you step all over them because you’re willing to put out—”

Your jaw dropped and motioned to defend yourself, but he rolled right over you.

“—but you do NOT get to do that here. Unlike the other fuckers in this office, I think with my fucking head not my dick. I handle my goddamn subordinates the way I see fit, understand?”

Your hands gripped the plush chair you stood next to.

“Where the hell do you get off talking to me like that? They’re under my supervision as well, have you fucking forgotten that? Criticize me however you want, but I draw the fucking line on attacks on my character!” you hissed, stepping closer to Sicheng.

“I talk to you however the hell I want, woman! This is my office. I’m in charge!”

Scoffing, you sat on the arm of the chair. “I know you’re sour you didn’t get the region you wanted. But that's real life, Sicheng. It must suck getting told no, daddy’s boy? Huh?”

“You shut the fuck up, Y/N. You do not get to talk to me like that,” he growled, towering over your deceptively lax figure.

You examined your nails nonchalantly. “Whatever, Sicheng. Let’s see who gets to talk when I get the promotion.”

“Ha! You wouldn’t last a fucking week in that position. No one can stand your uptight ass.”

Your placid demeanor snapped and you pushed a manicured finger into his (surprisingly) built chest.

“Fuck off, Sicheng! Some of us worked our ‘uptight’ asses off to get to where we are. You wouldn’t be shit without daddy dearest!”

“You wanna bet on that, woman?!”

Too little, too late—you didn’t notice how close the two of you were. His right arms clenched the back of the seat behind you and your noses were inches apart. If someone walked in right now, it would’ve looked like Sicheng was trying to kiss you.

You both were breathing heavily and, for the first time, you observed him from up close—his frustratingly clear skin, straight nose and slender jaw line, mouth drawn into a snarl looking like he wanted to corner you into your chair.

It was… hot.

Unwittingly, you bit your bottom lip and his intense eyes were drawn to the movement. Your legs shifted to rub together at the crux and his pants tented, while his eyes narrowed. He breathed heavily through his nose and, god, what you wouldn’t give for him to push you up against a wall and—

What the fuck!

You recoiled the same time he did, jumping away from each other like opposite poles repelling. A cold sweat formed on your back as you realized you were fucking attracted to the man that called you a whore all but in name a few moments ago.

The feral desire on his face morphed into disgust and the two of you gazed at each other in shock and revulsion.

Rushing out of his office like a bat out of hell, you slammed the door to your office shut and collapsed into your chair. Here you were, wanting to vomit in disgust but your panties were fucking soaking. You groaned and pulled at your hair. How the fuck were you supposed to last until Friday without Dolos? He would somehow fucking know you got yourself off and he would paddle you black and blue.

You dialed the private line for Black’s.

Your last resort...

Monday January 27th, 2020

Black’s

7:55 PM HKT

Sicheng drummed his finger restlessly against the leather couch, glancing at the clock. His knee bounced in anticipation and he was unaware of the dark energy he exuded.

The man felt like he could explode right now—no thanks to Y/N in his office earlier. Sicheng couldn’t believe he was reduced to a pathetic bundle of nerves all over Y/N and her red lipstick and fuck me! Eyes.

He wanted to crack open that ice-cold facade that you hid behind. He wanted to pick apart every aspect of your being, from your veiled eyes to your restless hands and—

He rubbed a hand over his face. Fuck, not Y/N again. Where the hell was his Dove? Although, he supposed he couldn’t ask for anymore than her now. He was about to break their schedule of Friday nights only, but, by some saving grace, the manager of Black’s called to notify him of Dove’s request to meet here tonight at 8 PM.

Sicheng couldn’t get out of the office fast enough. He usually worked late, but as soon as the clock turned six, he revved his Audi to get home and shower. Now he was here, looking groomed as hell for his favorite little girl.

“Master?”

There she were—standing off to the side, wearing a simple skirt and blouse, yet looking like sex personified.

He was so relieved that he didn’t even check the clock to check if his darling girl was late.

“Sit on my lap, sweetheart. Master has missed you.”

She straddled his lap and he buried his nose into her neck, inhaling deeply. He could feel the tension melting away in his muscles as she sat in his lap.

“Are you stressed, sir?” she asked innocuously, stroking his chest.

He hummed affirmative, tracing his nose over her collarbones. “Master’s had a rough day, baby. Why don’t you be a good girl and help me out, hm?”

Dove grinned, and Sicheng could see her twinkling eyes under the grey mask. “Anything for you sir.”

Sicheng heaved her over his shoulder, a squeal to coming out of her mouth unbidden. He smirked. She was lucky he hadn’t stopped her from making noise.

As soon as he got to the room, he made her strip as he pulled down a silk tie from the ceiling. Sicheng roughly forced her hands up, exposing her breasts to the cold air. As he finished binding Dove’s wrists together, he smirked and flicked a finger over her hard peaks.

A small mewl came out of the girl’s mouth, but Sicheng heard it clear as day. A smirk crawled over his plump lips.

“What was that, little girl? You want me to use a riding crop on your ass? Huh?”

Her eyes widened, she held still.

Sicheng languorously looked her over, eyes tracing the dips and curves of her body. “That’s what I thought.”

From a wooden panel, he produced a riding crop, setting aside on a side table as he rolled up his sleeves and loosened the collar on his button-up. Brandishing the crop again, he placed it on her collarbone, the cold leather a stark contrast to Dove’s heated skin.

“Safeword?”

“Sappho, sir.”

The tip of the crop forced her chin up, his intense eyes meeting hers. “Good girl.”

She preened.

He traced it down her chest, circling her sensitive breasts. He chuckled. They were so perfect for him, begging for his attention. She clenched her eyes shut.

Out of nowhere, he sides of both her breasts in two quick snaps of the wrist. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.

“Eyes on me, girl.”

Down and down he went, tracing over her stomach and waist. Sicheng skipped over her mons and started at her feet. He tapped the crop softly against her calves and thighs; he smiled, seeing her keep her stance. Sicheng would delay her orgasm if she so much as bent her legs. The irritating tapping continued until he got to her ass, where he delivered two sharp blows.

He could see her swallow down a moan, her eyes begging him to touch her there. Push and pull, Sicheng reminded himself. Push and fucking pull.

The man looked her dead in the eyes as he snapped the crop all over her ass and waist. Sicheng was unsatisfied. She could withstand the sharp, short pain of the crop and Dove wouldn’t act out.

Throwing the crop to the ground, Sicheng grabbed a ball-gag and paddle from the wall and stalked towards her.

Stuffing the ball-gag into her mouth, he smirked. “Keep your fucking legs straight.”

With that, he wasted no time and swung the paddle straight over her ass. her moan, muffled yet a masterful concerto to his ears, filled the room. Again and again, he paddled her ass until it was hot to touch, taking out his anger at Y/N on her poor ass. She couldn’t think—a buzz filled her ears and a subspace settled over her mind as he kept delivering.

Sicheng smirked as he saw the clear, viscous fluid of her pussy tread down the inside of her thighs. Unable to help himself, he swiped a finger through it and sucked on it.

However, the paddle had hit right next to her throbbing pussy and she cried out, pushing her legs together to relieve the tension.

His slim fingers grabbed her chin. His eyes were wild and his lips were drawn into a familiar snarl. The thought left her head as he hissed. “What the fuck did I just say about keeping your legs straight? You wanna be bad? Disobey my order? I’ll show you bad.”

Uncharacteristically, he threw away the paddle and wrapped a strong arm around her chest. She felt the rough, calloused skin of his palm smack her ass and she couldn’t take it.

Moans and whines forced themselves past her lips as he kept on going, smacking her ass in quick succession with his bare palms. It was a useless mission trying to keep her legs together but he kept going until she was trembling. The only thing keeping her up was his arm around her waist.

“What a naughty, naughty girl,” he whispered into her ear. “You deliberately disobeyed my fucking orders, huh? Fucking put your legs together because you were too impatient for master to touch you.”

“Sir, please,” she sobbed through the gag, saliva dripping down her chin.

Sicheng thrust two fingers into her mouth and she rushed to spit and lube them up. He quickly spread the lips of her labia apart with his finger, and his thumb brushed slightly over her little pearl. The ‘accidental’ move nearly made her pass out, a loud scream echoing along the walls.

“What sweet, sweet screams are elicited from that throat of yours,” he murmured.

Suddenly, he roughly stuffed two fingers into her dripping wet pussy making her scream even louder from the sudden intrusion. Pumping harshly, in and out, an undulating rhythm that made her legs collapse and lean on him totally for support. She cried into his shoulder as he just kept on going, feeling the lush walls of her pussy pulsate against his fingers. Once again, his thumb brushed over her clit and her throat felt raw from her shouting. He rubbed her little pearl viciously while two fingers were still deep in her pussy. Her muffled screaming echoed through out the room and he quickly unbuckled the gag from her mouth.

“Master, sir—please, let me come! I’ll be your good girl, I’ll doing anything you want, I’ll keep my legs apart, I’ll—”

“Come, sweetheart. Come for your master,” he said, his breathing finally a bit labored.

She let out a keening wail and her nails dug into his broad shoulders, shaking uncontrollably against him. He held her close.

Monday January 27th, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

All that could be heard was the crackling fire in the corner of the room. You slumped bonelessly against Dolos on the leather couch, head on his chest, knees pulled up to rest on his lap. As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you could feel his fingers stroke your hair and the comforting sound of his heartbeat thrumming steadily.

“Sir, I… I missed you,” you whispered.

He said nothing. But, as you turned your head up to his, he gazed at you with an unreadable gleam in his eye.

You blushed, and buried your head in his chest. God, that was too sincere. It actually sounded like you needed him outside the walls of this playroom. You knew what happened when you mixed feelings with sex. Trouble.

Trouble was Minghao. Trouble was dark and mysterious—the kind of boy that made girls go starry-eyed and ga-ga over him. The girls would constantly daydream Minghao “fixing” himself for them, “piecing” himself back together in order to be with the girl of his dreams.

Except they were wrong. So, so wrong.

Minghao wasn’t like that. He was cool, he was cruel, and he was mean. He was the first to initiate your eager eyes into BDSM. He was the one that discovered how good of a submissive you were. He was your first in everything.

In the end, he was too much for you. Minghao would’ve destroyed you had you stayed for any longer—would’ve ruined your already fraying self-esteem and confidence. Yet, when the two of you parted ways, it felt like something had been torn out of your chest. You had dedicated yourself to serving this man, thrown your confidence and dignity on an altar and sacrificed it to him, but he had deigned to not even treat you with a modicum of respect outside of playtime.

Never again.

“Never mind, sir. My mouth ran away from me for a moment.”

His right hand rose to cup your jaw, and his fathomless eyes searched yours.

“You are the only thing real in this world, you know that?”

Your thumb stroked his sharp cheekbones and Dolos sighed. He quickly gathered you up in his arms and crushed you into his chest. You froze, unsure what he planned to do.

“Fuck,” he said. “What are you doing to me?”

You gazed into the fire lapping at the stone of the fireplace, snapping and crackling. What the hell was he doing to you? Dolos was the first dom in years to make so weak—so attached.

He gave a bitter laugh.

“I came here for control.”

Burying his face into your hair, he inhaled deeply like you would disappear in thin air.

“So why are you taking it away from me?”

Wednesday January 29th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

3 PM HKT

You sighed and played mindlessly with your pen as the clock ticked forward. Sicheng had gone to the bathroom before your quick progress check with him which left you to scrutinize his office.

If there was one word to describe his office, it would be monotonous. White, black, and red with no personal effects in sight. The only thing that made the space not some page from a design catalogue was the simple calligraphy painting bearing a proverb in harsh, strong strokes.

人算不如天算.

Man proposes and god disposes.

Huh. Funny, for a man whom you thought was fettered by nothing but himself.

The scroll painting was also dead set in the middle of room, with two dark bookshelves flanking it. In fact, everything in the room was perfectly symmetrical. The two chairs faced the desk straight on. There were two pens that stood side by side, unnaturally neat at the center of his desk. Even his recycling bin was perfectly in the center of two tables—

A ball of paper, different from the other stark white sheets in the bin, caught your eye. Weirdly enough, the paper broke the bizarre, polished neatness of the room by laying on the floor adjacent to the bin.

Insatiable curiosity gripped you in its clutches, and you bent down to pick up the odd bit of parchment.

Immediately, you felt the quality of the paper. It was heavy and smooth like silk, not something an individual wrote on casually. Hell, it was aged as well. What was Dong Sicheng doing with this?

Opening the crumpled paper (which had felt like it had been crumpled and straightened many times), you took a look at the contents of the paper.

Your own handwriting stared up at you mockingly.

Dropping the paper like it was a burning ember, you fell gracelessly to the carpeted floor. Your eyes widened and your hand clamped over your mouth to prevent you from gasping.

No. That could not be Dove’s letter. It couldn’t. It couldn’t because—

You heard muffled footsteps echoing coming down the hallway outside the office, and you scrambled off the floor and into your chair. Having no time to think, you stuffed the letter into your coat pocket.

“Y/N, thank you for waiting,” Sicheng greeted, striding confidently into his office.

His casual oxford and black trousers were a slap in the face. How could you not notice the similarities between Dolos and Sicheng? The way they walked, the way they talked, the way they looked at you.

With Sicheng, looking into his eyes was like gazing through a veil. Silhouettes and hints of something indiscernible danced in his eyes, alien to his warm demeanor. Looking into Dolos’ eyes was as if the veil had been lifted, naked and hungry desire running rampant and burning with its ferocity. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide underneath his stare.

Even his forearms. The way they flexed as he lowered himself into his office chair and took one of the freakishly aligned pens in his sinuous fingers. You could see them twisting and rippling as he paddled your—

“Y/N?”

Your eyes refocused on Sicheng watching you intently, concern written on his face.

“N-no problem, really.”

You wanted to facepalm yourself. Your voice almost fucking cracked and sounded shy, like the twittering of the office girls around him. Fuck, where was your ice queen when you needed her?

A slight smile played upon his pink lips, and hell if you couldn’t imagine him calling you a little slut.

The informal progress meeting continued on in the same vein, you acting uncharacteristically bashful and him hiding his befuddled amusement badly.

The paper felt like it was a brand burning through your blazer pocket the rest of the day.

Love, your Darling Dove.

Friday January 31st, 2020

Black’s

9 PM HKT

Friday night once again found him at Black’s, awaiting his weekly tête-á-tête with his darling Dove. But this time, he planned to make it different.

He restlessly toyed with the red, signature box embossed with gold etching. He had never spent this much money on something for someone other than his mother and older sister, but Dove once again compelled him. The necklace with gold filigree had a simple pendant of a blossom, its leaves done in malachite and its petals in iridescent opal. Sicheng imagined Dove in nothing but his necklace, her pretty lips contorted in a moan, and he instantly got hard again.

Fuck. He could not wait to get her to the Salon and kiss every inch of her skin, worshipping her with his mouth and his hands. And after, when she was sated and curled contentedly in his arms, he would ask to remove her mask.

And hopefully, she would say yes.

Then she would be his.

His mouth salivated at the thought, his heart beating just a tiny bit faster at the thought of untying the ribbon of her grey mask and the stupid lace falling down so he could bask in her features. A thousand different features flashed before his eyes, each one as perfect than the next.

Y/N’s cold gaze flashed unbidden before his eyes.

Sicheng’s teeth clenched until he couldn't feel his tongue. As much as he’d like to put her in her rightful place, why was she in his thoughts? Dove was perfect and submissive to his whims, and he was about to make her his. Y/N had no business being even a passing thought.

Although, she acted quite off this week. She was her normal, bitchy self around the office, ruthlessly demanding results while everyone obeyed in a mixture of fear and awe, but Y/N was almost… shy.

She refused to look him straight in the eye, even if, in the past, she had no problem getting all up in his face. Her posture was slumped and hesitant, her hands twiddled and twitched in his presence.

While he liked it a bit more than he should, this was not the Y/N he knew. He had no idea what made her like this and it made him... uncomfortable. Did he do something?

“Dolos, sir.”

He looked up from his broody contemplation into the fire and to the distinguished, older man’s face. This was not some errand boy, this was the owner of the damn establishment. Sir Theodore Lau himself.

“Mr. Lau, nice to see you,” he said, rising up to greet him properly.

“Quite well, and you?”

“In good spirits.”

Mr. Lau’s face took on a pained expression.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Lau?”

The usually unflappable gentleman looked discomfited. “You… I have received this. For you.”

Sicheng cautiously took the letter from Lau’s hands, and broke the wax seal to the aged vellum inside

Dear Dolos,

I am sorry you could not receive the contents of this letter in person, but circumstances have not allowed for it.

Dolos, I’m sorry to inform you I am no longer a patron of Black’s and consequently not your submissive anymore. No, it is not an issue of money. Neither have I been treated untowardly in this establishment. No, I have had to leave because of some personal conflicts.

I have had the best six months of my life with you. You have made me feel comfortable in my submission, with no shame or judgement in those eyes of ours. I looked forward to our Friday rendezvous, embarrassingly eager for when I could be in your arms again. But that shall sadly never happen again.

Please do not get angry, but if our six months together meant anything to you, please do not seek me out. It’s best for the both of us.

Thank you master,

Dove

Sicheng could only gape at the paper, the letters rerunning and jumbling in his mind until they were all a blur. He could literally feel the blood freezing in his veins and the unnatural stillness he was stuck in.

“She… she said she was sorry. Very sorry.”

Mr. Lau could have been speaking gibberish for all he cared, because Sicheng could not hear anything other than the pounding of his blood.

“What the fuck,” Sicheng hissed after a long time of not speaking.

Mr. Lau could only look on piteously. Sicheng’s face was grotesquely beautiful in the firelight, highlighting his angelic features contorted tortuously. The owner had never seen such raw, unfiltered emotion from Sicheng— from anyone in his life, really. This was the face of a man who had the rug taken out from beneath his feet.

He put a fatherly hand on Sicheng’s shoulder. Lau had known the boy since the boy was an adolescent and a submissive had never left him in such a state.

“We have other girls—men as well—who would be more than happy to serve you tonight—”

“I don’t want to fuck tonight,” Sicheng seethed, brushing the older man’s hand off roughly. “I don’t want any of them. I want Dove.”

How could she do this? Just leave him high and dry with just a letter and unforgettable memories? He thought they were more.

Evidently not, Sicheng thought bitterly.

However, something was off in the letter. There were blotches of water around the page and even in the handwriting, as if a droplet had smeared the page. Of perhaps, a tear.

“Can I meet with you privately in your office?” Sicheng said lowly after he got his rage under control.

Mr. Lau sighed. “Of course. Come along.”

Sicheng refused his invitation to sit, but did accept a finger of bourbon. He took a sip, contemplated the glass in his hand, and hurled it at the wall.

Mr. Lau jumped out of his chair, shocked. “Sicheng, those glasses were from my grandfather!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Like air suddenly leaving a balloon, Sicheng deflated and collapsed into the armchair. The blond youth rubbed a hand over his tired face.

“May I ask you for a favor, Mr. Lau?”

The man, inspecting the now ruined silk wallpaper, snorted. “Unless you replace my decanter set, no.”

Sicheng waved a careless hand. “Consider it done. 1890s, correct? I’ll even pay for the cleaning service.”

Harrumphing, the owner sat in his office chair and steepled his fingers. “So, what may I do for you?”

Sicheng’s burning eyes turned towards him.

“Tell me who Dove is.”

Mr. Lau winced. “Anything but that Sicheng, anything. Not her identity.”

“Well, say goodbye to your father’s decanter set, then,” Sicheng murmured petulantly.

“I can live with that. However, I will never disclose her identity— or anyone’s, for that matter.”

“Please, you don’t understand. I need her.”

Oh, how beautiful he looked like this. A tortured angel materialized from a Michaelangelo painting.

Mr. Lau felt all his years weighing him all at once, and two sides of him warred.

“I’m sorry, but no matter how good your intentions are, I personally and legally cannot do that.”

“Even though my family and I have been patrons of the club for decades?”

“Even then. You know this.”

The blond man’s eyes shifted to the side, and his jaw tightened. His knuckles grew white clutching the wood armrests of the chair he sat in.

“Fuck this!” he shouted, suddenly throwing the chair back with a resounding clash. He motioned to stomp his way out of the room, but Mr. Lau’s voice stopped him.

“She’s a good girl, Sicheng. If she wanted to be found by you, she would’ve.”

Sicheng grasped the door and said ominously, “I will not accept this. Never.”

The older gentleman sighed, and took in the destruction a man’s broken heart had left in its wake.

*cackles evilly* to be continued...

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insomniac-jay · 3 years

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An Unexpected Find [Vampire!Korekiyo x Reader]

Description: Y/N gets dragged by their friends to the rumored haunted mansion outside the city. They expected many things, but one of them was not meeting a vampire.

Relationships: Reader x Korekiyo Shinguuji

Additional: Gender neutral pronouns for reader, Miu cussing up a storm as always, Himiko being a cryptid, my LGBTQ+ headcanons will be in use, Y/N is done with everything

Also this for @glitter-froggy, you forced my hand on this/j

“Come on, guys,” said Himiko as they led the group through the forest. “We’re almost there.”

Y/N grunted as they continued following the redhead. What were they doing you ask? Y/N and their friends Himiko, Miu, Shuichi, and Gonta were going to explore a rumored haunted mansion- Well it was mainly Himiko that wanted to go.

“Do we really have to do this?” they asked.

“I-I agree.” spoke Shuichi. “I-It’s cold and it could be getting late.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, Saihara!” exclaimed Gonta. “I’ll hold your hands if you feel scared!”

“No thanks, Gonta, though I appreciate the gesture.” they said as the group continued to follow Himiko. Twigs snapped beneath their feet and bushes rustled as they came up to their location. The mansion was beautiful. It was large with stone walls and a high rise balcony. Two sets of staircases were sprawled out before the group.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Miu. “Whoever lives here must be rich as shit!”

While the others took in the beauty of their destination, Y/N was focused on what time they would be getting home. It was a summer night, they had no way to get back to civilization, and Y/N was tired. They hoped this would be quick so the group could immediately find a way out of this forest and back to the city.

“Let’s do this.” they sighed.

The group entered the house and looked around. Himiko was fascinated at how preserved and new it looked despite being possibly over 500 years old. “This place is amazing.” they said. “I wonder what kind of stuff we’ll find.”

“I hope we find some good fuckin’ shit!” exclaimed Miu.

Y/N looked around at the scenery. The walls were a beautiful burgundy with African Blackwood adorning the wall over it. Even if they had sneakers on, they could feel their footwear sinking into the rug. The room was illuminated by a beautiful chandelier with thousands of crystals. Damn, whoever lives here must’ve had good tastes, they said to themself. I could never dream of living here, though. It probably gets lonely here.

“Guys, look at what me and Saihara found!” called Gonta.

Himiko, Miu, and Y/N walked over to see the two staring at a painting of man who looked to be around their age. He had long green hair that stopped at his waist tied into a ponytail and bright yellow eyes. He wore a mask of sorts and was dressed in an elegant manner.

“Who the hell is that guy?” the blonde asked.

“According to the rumors, he used to be the mansion’s owner.” replied Shuichi. “His name was Korekiyo Shinguuji.”

“They say his ghost haunts this place and I wanna see if I can get in contact with it.” spoke the redhead. The statement earned her a look from Miu. “I know you’re a witch and all, but are you high?” she asked. “This ain’t an episode of Supernatural, honey!”

“I know, but I wanna continue testing my powers.” they said.

Y/N continued looking at the painting. Korekiyo sat in a tall, refined way. There was something enchanting about the former owner. “Y/N?” they turned to Shuichi. “You’ve been staring at the painting for a long time. Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah!” Y/N clapped their hands together. “Just, y’know, admiring the artwork.”

“If you wanted to shoot your shot, you missed it about 500 years ago.” teased Miu. Y/N rolled their eyes and continued walking around with the group. As they walked down another hall, something caught Y/N’s attention.

Out the corner of their eye was a partially open door. They took a quick glance at both their group and the door before quietly abandoning their group in favor of looking inside the room. Once they were in, their eyes widened. It was a library with many books and ancient artifacts. On one of the tables was a large book. Curiosity took over them as they pulled out the chair and sat down. Slowly, they turned the pages of the book. It wasn’t even a book, it was a journal. Each page had something to do with anthropology and how humanity changes with each passing year.

“Wow...” they said to themselves.

“Interesting, is it not?”

Y/N jumped at the sound of a voice. They clutched the journal closely to them as they looked around for the source of the voice. “Do not fret, dearest human.” the voice said again. Y/N looked to see a man emerging from behind one of the bookshelves. Then they realized who it was. “Are you...Korekiyo Shinguuji?” they asked.

“Why yes I am.” he replied. Y/N found Korekiyo’s voice to be oddly relaxing despite it being so deep. “I see you’ve been looking through one of my journals.”

“Huh....Oh! Y-yeah. I’m Y/N, by the way.” Y/N was nervous. The man from the painting was here. In the flesh, standing right in from of them. Wasn’t he supposed to be dead or something? So why was he still flesh and bones even after 500 years? They guessed Korekiyo must’ve known what they were thinking because he said, “I am a 500-year-old vampire. Fourteenth generation to be exact.”

“A-and I am a human.” Y/N said.

“I apologize for scaring you.” he said. “It was not my intention.”

Y/N relaxed a little but still kept their guard up. “You must really like anthropology.” they said. Korekiyo nodded. “It is fascinating to see how humanity changes and evolves alongside time. It is also fascinating to see their beauty.” A snake appeared from out of one of the sleeves and wrapped itself around Korekiyo’s arm. “I do not get many visitors here.”

“I mean, you live in the woods. Nobody’s really gonna be out here.” Y/N said.

“Yet here you are.” the vampire said back. Y/N put their hands on their hips. “Correction: I was forced to come here. Otherwise Himiko would take away all of my albums and I don’t want mysts touching my Mother Mother album. I worked too hard to find that shit.”

“Mysts? Is that what humans call a neopronoun?” Korekiyo asked.

Y/N was surprised he knew what a neopronoun was. None of their family knew what a neopronoun was, not even the relatives their age. So for this decades old vampire to know what it was shocked them. “Yeah...how do you know what a neopronoun is?” they asked.

“I have been observing humans for many years, my dear.” he replied. “I, myself, have began to adopt some of these neopronouns. I gave began using they and rose. They give me what humans called a boost of serotonin.”

Y/N listened to them. Despite Korekiyo being much taller and capable of sucking the life out of them, they weren’t. Instead, they were talking to them as though they were an old friend or frequent guest.

“Follow me, Y/N.”

They followed the vampire elite out of the library to the garden, where the two were greeted with a breathtaking view. The moon shone above the beds of roses as the stars shined in the background. It was beautiful. “Korekiyo, this is beautiful.” they praised.

“I’m very glad you got to be the first to see this. This rose garden was planted by my mother. It shows just how beautiful humanity can make things such as nature.” Y/N nodded in agreement. They watched as Korekiyo took out a rose and stuck it in their hair, causing the smaller person to blush. “Keep that as a memory of our night together, Y/N.”

Y/N nodded and began walking back to the library. But before they closed the door, they took one last look at Korekiyo.

“Until we meet again?”

“Until we meet again.”

Reblogs > Likes

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #korekiyo shinguuji #korekiyo shinguuji x reader #disco's fanfics

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m3kuroshirt · 3 years

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Sharp Darts and Wilting Flowers

GrimmIchi Weekend Challenge 3

Challenged by @kuroosden

Genre/trope: angst with a happy ending

Required words: grey, flower

Word count: 3551

Posted to AO3 as well, under the same title, on this account: M34GS

Warnings: some graphic description of injury and pain, death

The only thing he remembered was a wilting flower and the colour grey. Ichigo blinked, looking about the room he was in. It appeared to be a well-decorated elevator. The floor was covered in a plush red carpet and the wall panels were the colour of mahogany. Gold trim lined the edges, but whether it was solid gold or just gold-plated he couldn’t tell. All at once, the elevator jolted and Ichigo realized it had stopped…though he hadn’t known it was even moving at all until that moment.

A small, bright ding! and the doors slid open. Ichigo stepped out hesitantly. He scanned the room he stepped into; a modern-looking place in direct contrast with the old-fashioned elegance of the elevator. The lighting was tinted blue, and all around he could see empty chairs and tables. Turning to his right, Ichigo could see another man, tall with blue hair and piercing blue eyes, who looked just as confused as he felt. Something about the man seemed familiar, but try as he might, Ichigo couldn’t quite remember his name.

“Uh. Hi,” he greeted the man, hoping that would lead to conversation, where he could learn something. The man tore his gaze from the scenery and locked his eyes on Ichigo. And damn. DAMN. That was not an unpleasant gaze to have fixed on him. Ichigo swallowed and smiled nervously. The other man narrowed his eyes and panic seized Ichigo for a moment before the blue-haired man spoke.

“…Do I…know you?” his tone wasn’t angry…it was wholeheartedly confused, maybe even frustrated. As if he was struggling with remembering things, just like Ichigo. Ichigo shrugged.

“I, uh, don’t know? I don’t remember much of anything…I have no idea how I got here or even where ‘here’ is,” he mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Way to sound like a freak in front of the hot guy, he chastised himself. I should’ve just said no. But to his surprise, the other man relaxed.

“I’m not the only one, then,” he muttered. He stopped looking at Ichigo and glanced around the place. “…place is fucking creepy as hell,” he continued.

“Eh? And here I thought it was really nice,” a lilting voice cut through the tense atmosphere. Both men started and whirled around to see…a person. They were standing there, dressed in a beautiful, flowing gown, blue and shimmery. Their hair was jaw-length and trimmed to frame their face, and they smiled at the two men. Ichigo felt suddenly self-conscious. Is everyone here hot as hell? He wondered. He shifted awkwardly on his feet. “I rather like the colour blue. And don’t you find the theme…entrancing?” the person asked them. Ichigo blinked and looked around again, finding himself wanting to please this beautiful person.

“Uh. I…uh, yeah,” he replied very intelligently.

“So, you own this place?” The blue haired man demanded. “You know why we’re here then, how we got here?” He stepped forward, standing right next to Ichigo now. And Ichigo felt the urge to lean against the man, almost as a reassurance; as if no matter what this stranger had in store for them, he would back up this man with his life. And the strangest thought came to him that maybe, just maybe, the blue haired man wouldn’t mind. But he stopped himself when he caught the stranger in the dress smiling at him with what had to be a knowing smile.

They know something about me. The thought slid into his brain unbidden, and, try as he might, Ichigo couldn’t seem to dispel it. His fingers twitched at his sides and his mouth was dry.

“If you really want to know,” the stranger answered as they turned and gestured for the men to follow, “then come over here.” The stranger turned fully away from them and started to walk toward a bar. Ichigo exchanged a look with the blue haired man.

“Do…do you think we should?” he asked. The blue haired man frowned.

“We don’t have much choice. Unless you got any ideas?” Ichigo shook his head and the other man nodded grimly. “I thought so.” He ran a hand through his blue hair and Ichigo snuck a glance at his forearm. He could see the faint outline of veins, and his heart gave an odd little leap. “Grimmjow.”

Ichigo blinked. “Uh?”

The other man rolled his eyes. “It’s my name, dumbass. I think we can be on a first name basis, given the situation. Plus, if shit goes sideways, you’re the only one I think I can trust here,” he clarified. Ichigo blinked again.

“Oh. Uh. Nice to meet you, Grimmjow. Uh. I’m Ichigo.” Grimmjow’s name seemed to roll off his tongue with an easy familiarity, but Ichigo couldn’t quite figure out why. Grimmjow just nodded after Ichigo introduced himself, then stepped forward to follow where the prettily dressed stranger had gone. Ichigo fell into step behind him, feeling oddly much safer than when he’d been alone in the elevator.

They found the stranger at the bar, perched on a barstool and sipping from a martini glass. Another person stood behind the bar, a bald man with sharp, angry-looking features, sporting red eyeliner that only seemed to make him appear more fierce. The stranger in the dress motioned for them to sit, so they each took a seat. The man behind the bar looked each of them up and down for a second, before speaking.

“Wanna drink?” he asked them casually, his voice much more rough than the smooth sound of his companion’s. Grimmjow gave one shake of his head, and Ichigo followed suit. No telling what would really be in the drink if they took one.

“We want to know why we’re here,” Ichigo countered, doing his best to appear intimidating and not as nervous as he felt. The man nodded. He wiped down the bar counter with a towel.

“To play a game,” he answered simply.

Grimmjow slammed a hand on the counter. “Don’t fuck with us! ‘To play a game’?! The hell does that mean, you fucker,” he snarled. Ichigo watched with wide eyes. The pretty stranger sipped their drink, not even fazed by the reaction. Behind the bar, the bald man glared.

“Shut the hell up and listen then, idiot,” he snapped.

Oh good. Two hot-heads in the same room. This will go well, Ichigo thought dryly. Grimmjow quieted but continued glaring at the baldy. Unexpectedly, it was the pretty stranger who spoke up.

“You two will be playing a game where your lives are at stake,” they stated, as calm as if observing that Grimmjow’s hair was blue and Ichigo’s eyes were brown. “You will play against each other in a game that is chosen at random, and the loser will die.” Ichigo felt his brain come to a screeching halt.

“Wait. What?” he demanded. He slid off his seat and stood towering over the pretty stranger. “You want us to play for the right to live? That’s fucked up! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The stranger stared back at him without even blinking, their eyes a dark and mesmerizing slate grey.

“If you don’t play, you both die,” they answered simply.

“Bring it. I’ll fucking take you both down,” Grimmjow snarled, standing now as well, shoulder to shoulder with Ichigo. The bald man rolled his eyes. Before either of them could react, a gun barrel was pointed at each of them; one held by the baldy, and one by the pretty stranger.

“Unless you want to both end up stone-dead, you’ll do as you’re told,” the pretty stranger replied with a sly smile. “My name is Yumichika, and this is Ikkaku,” they gestured to the bald man behind the bar. “We’ll be your hosts tonight. Now come, it’s time to choose your game.” Yumichika waved to a small roulette wheel Ichigo hadn’t noticed before. On it were game titles that sounded like what a child would play in a cheesy horror movie. Death billiards? Really? He thought to himself bitterly. A faint part of him wished, hoped, dared to believe that this could be a dream; a nightmare.

A button was pressed and the wheel jumped to life, spinning in a flash of colour and light. Ichigo felt his throat seal shut, as if this somehow made it more real than the guns did, more real than the heat of the man standing next to him. This was not a dream.

The wheel stopped. Ichigo blinked and read the bright shining title. Death Seven Darts. He’d barely comprehended the words when there was a quiet rumble. The floor ahead of them split and two dart boards rose from the ground. Along with them came two little trays, each with seven darts. Ikakku stepped out from behind the bar.

“The rules are simple,” he stated, his tone rather indifferent. “You each start with 500 points. You throw the darts and points are deducted from your opponent according to the score you get. The one with the least points when all the darts are gone is the loser.” Ichigo felt a shiver run down his spine. The dart boards were decorated with grotesque images; a picture of human organs adorning each possible space to hit. He really wants us to be constantly thinking about how one of us will die, doesn’t he? Ichigo thought with a frown. We could both refuse to play. We’d be killed…but that’s better than the other option…survivor’s guilt or being sentenced to die by the only person in the same situation as me…

As if reading his thoughts, Grimmjow bumped his shoulder. Ichigo blinked and looked up at him. “You got something to live for?” he asked Ichigo, his blue gaze burning into Ichigo’s own brown eyes.

“I…I don’t know. I can’t remember,” Ichigo answered, fear sliding down his spine and spreading along his nerves like oil; slick and gross.

“Then that means you must have. Whatever they did to us…they wouldn’t have messed with our heads if it wasn’t important to their little ‘game’,” Grimmjow reasoned. He glanced to the dartboards and ran a hand through his hair. Then he looked at Ichigo with resolve. “Don’t hold back.” Grimmjow turned away from him and walked over to one set of darts. Ichigo felt his heart sinking. They were really going to do this. His stomach churned and he chewed his lip as he walked up to his own set.

Grimmjow picked up one of the darts. Ichigo couldn’t stop watching him as he inspected it, probably checking to see if it was some sort of trap. Then he took aim…and launched the dart. It hit the board, and pain burst in Ichigo’s skull, behind his left eye. He screamed and grabbed at it, the pain piercing through his head. Ichigo sank to his knees, barely hearing the shout of his name, barely feeling the arms wrap around his shoulders. The pain blossomed into an aching throb and he choked on a sob.

That’s when the images started.

An orange lily in a vase, beautiful but wilting. A warm, inviting kitchen, one he instinctively knew was his. And warm arms wrapped around him. A low voice murmuring in his ear. And Ichigo was smiling.

Ichigo was not smiling when he came back to the present moment. He was on his knees, leaning forward, someone holding him from behind to support him. He gasped, the shock of pain pouring over him once more like cold water.

“-Chigo…Ichigo! What’s wrong?!” the voice that shouted was familiar and yet strange and the thought made Ichigo dizzy. He frowned as the pain faded to a dull ache, finally able to think and speak.

Ichigo looked up to see the indifferent faces of Yumichika and Ikkaku watching them. He glared at them. “What…” he gasped out, still catching his breath, “what the…fuck…did you do to me?” They watched him with unchanging faces. Grimmjow’s arms tightened around him.

“The fuck is this bullshit?” he growled. “I thought we weren’t dying until the game is over.” Yumichika raised an eyebrow.

“Are you saying he’s dead? And yet, isn’t he talking to you?” they asked in their low sultry voice. The arms around him squeezed once more, and Ichigo reached up to rest a trembling hand on them. He felt Grimmjow stiffen and then release him.

Ichigo turned around to see him offer his hand. He took the offered hand and Grimmjow helped him stand. “Sorry,” the blue haired man apologized. “I didn’t mean to go overboard…but when I saw you were hurt…I reacted without thinking.” His voice was low and his cheeks were pink. He refused to look Ichigo in the eye. Ichigo swallowed.

“No…it’s alright. I, uh,” he started but hesitated and glanced at Yumichika and Ikkaku. Ikkaku spoke up.

“Whatever you say, we won’t be intervening,” he stated shortly. His voice was rough but not mean. Ichigo licked his lips and started again, facing Grimmjow now.

“I think I got a memory back. When the pain came on. There was a flower…and someone behind me. It was brief but it felt important.”

Grimmjow blinked. “…is that so?” Ichigo nodded. Grimmjow’s lips twisted as he thought, his brow furrowed. For some reason, Ichigo wanted to press his fingers to Grimmjow’s face and smooth the creases away, help him relax. He did not give in to that urge. Grimmjow gestured to the tray holding Ichigo’s darts. “Your turn.”

Ichigo grimaced. “I…don’t want to,” he mumbled quietly. Grimmjow tensed.

“Yeah. But it’s the only way one of us is getting out of here alive. And,” he paused, as if mulling over his words before plowing on, “and I’d like to see one of my memories. If I’m able.” Ichigo nodded once. Then he picked up the dart, aimed, and threw it.

There was a shout and then Grimmjow doubled over, clutching his left arm. Ichigo was torn between staying away out of guilt and rushing over to him, even though he knew running to Grimmjow would do no good. There wasn’t a thing he could do to ease the pain. Yet he ended up running to the other man’s side.

“Grimmjow?” he called hesitantly. There was an answering grunt and Ichigo reached out a gentle hand to rest on his shoulder. Grimmjow turned his gaze upward, still hunched over, curled protectively around his hand. Ichigo wet his lips absentmindedly as he stared into those intense blue eyes. “Did it work?” Grimmjow gave one nod, his grimace easing, and straightened his posture.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded choked, almost broken. And Ichigo had a feeling it wasn’t the pain.

“What did you see?”

There was a beat of silence far too long to be comfortable. Then, “I think I was going to propose to someone. I saw a ring.”

Ichigo felt his stomach plummet. Violent emotions swirled inside his head. Anger. Fear. Jealousy. Guilt. Resignation. He removed his hand from Grimmjow’s shoulder. “You should win.” Ichigo wasn’t even aware he’d thought the words before they were falling out of his mouth unbidden. Grimmjow shook his head.

“Nuh-uh. You aren’t going to throw this game to give me the win. No fucking way, not with both our lives on the line,” he snapped.

“You have someone important!” Ichigo argued.

“So do you! Someone who bought you flowers! What if you’re already married? Are you going to say your actual spouse’s feelings don’t matter as much as my possible spouse? Huh???”

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Ichigo was the one to look away. “Alright. Fine. I won’t throw the game for you,” he muttered. Grimmjow nodded with satisfaction. Ichigo gestured to his tray. “Your turn then.” He braced himself as Grimmjow picked up the dart.

From that point on, the game was a blur. They rotated between bursts of excruciating pain and blurs of memories. Ichigo did his best to piece them together.

A wilting flower. He wanted to get more. He wanted to go to the florist and pick up some more and maybe some nutrients for the water this time. All he had to do was convince someone…

***

Scenery flashed past them as they drove. It was a city, that much he was sure of. The sun shone down brightly and kids ran along the sidewalks. Something warmed his hand and when he looked at it, it was another hand holding his. Strong, rough, but gentle, the hand squeezed his own while its partner rested on the steering wheel.

***

A voice was talking, and he tried to hang on to every word. ‘A special night’ and ‘reservations’ but Ichigo couldn’t pick out all the words; distracted by a shadow to his right.

***

Someone was screaming. Who was it? Who was screaming? There was red everywhere, scattered and splashed among grey pieces of metal and plastic on dark asphalt. And a spot of blue. Who was screaming?

He was. Ichigo was screaming. The blue across from him came into focus and he could see now, the blue hair, blue eyes, a hand that reached for him, covered in blood, mouth open, trying to speak…

And then the loud sound of squealing brakes.

Turning. Slowly. As if stuck in molasses.

A semi truck careening toward them with no chance of stopping.

Darkness.

Ichigo felt tears slide down his cheeks as he came back to the present.

“Ichigo! What’s wrong? Did you see something else?” Grimmjow’s voice cut through the buzzing in his ears. Up to this point, they’d been sharing their memories with each other, finding they had both been in similar situations…never once had Ichigo imagined they’d been going through all of it together…and that they were…

“…dead,” the word tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. Grimmjow froze.

“What?”

Ichigo turned to Yumichika and Ikkaku. He hoped he was wrong, gaze pleading as he looked at each of them. “We’re already dead, aren’t we?” Yumichika nodded once.

“What? That! That’s impossible!” Grimmjow protested, but even as he spoke Ichigo turned to him and saw the realization steal across his face. The last memory sunk in for him too, then, he reasoned.

“When people die,” Yumichika stated calmly, as if teaching a course in a university, “one of two things happens to their soul. They either go to the void, to be lost forever in darkness, or they are reincarnated.”

Ikkaku stretched his neck from side to side and continued the speech. “Sometimes, when two people die at once, they get sent here, to play a game and be assigned either the void or reincarnation, according to the judgement of the arbiter. I am the arbiter.”

“So, you’re going to judge if we go to the void or get to live again?” Grimmjow asked slowly. Ikkaku gave a short nod.

“That’s right.”

Ichigo frowned. “If either of us is reincarnated…would we lose our memories of each other?” he whispered.

“That is correct,” Yumichika confirmed. Ichigo felt something snap inside his chest, like a string that was tugged until it broke.

He turned to Grimmjow. “I…Grimm…I just got these memories back…I don’t wanna lose them.” His voice was ragged with the tears building up and his throat ached the more he tried to hold them back. Grimmjow shook his head.

“You think I’m gonna let you say you want to go to the void, dumbass? Like hell I wanna see your soul lost in darkness forever. Think about what you’re saying, you idiot,” he answered, but there was no bite to his words, and he walked over to Ichigo and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. Ichigo curled into Grimmjow’s arms.

“But,” he mumbled, “what if only one of us can be reincarnated?” Grimmjow tightened his arms around him and for a fleeting moment Ichigo felt safe and secure. That came crashing down with his lover’s next words.

“Then it should be you.”

Ichigo pulled back in alarm, mouth open to protest, but he was cut off by Ikkaku.

“I’ve decided. It’s time for the two of you to go back to the elevators. They will take you to your assigned destinations,” the bald man interrupted. His tone was final, and his face offered no consolation to either of the young men.

***

Yumichika watched the two young men step into their respective elevators. The two looked grim, but there was a resignation about them as well, as if they were both accepting of their fate, though they had no idea yet what it might be. Yumichika hummed to themself thoughtfully as the doors closed, remembering how the couple had hugged each other tightly, as a ‘good-bye’, only moments before. They watched as both elevators started upward, whisking the occupants away to be reincarnated in the living world.

“Do you think…Ikkaku…do you think they’ll find each other again in the living world?” They asked, their tone feigning indifference. In truth, Yumichika felt a nervous thrum of anticipation as they waited for Ikkaku’s answer.

“Dunno,” came the gruff reply. There was a pause. And then, “I hope so.”

#grimmichi #writing challenge #jaegerjaquez grimmjow #kurosaki ichigo #m34gswrites #angst with happy ending #grimmichi au #Death Parade au

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