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joels6string · 4 months

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RE4R Leon Kennedy x f!reader

Leon's home from Spain and the only thing he needs is a familiar face.

18+ only MDNI

content: a little hurt/comfort, established relationship, unprotected p in v, oral f!receiving, creampie word count: 3k

There were fewer things in life more pleasant than the feeling of a warm mug clutched against your palm, a thick, fuzzy blanket in your lap, and a book resting on your thighs. Your fingers are flicking at the corner of the page as you took in the words written so elegant yet simple on the page, transporting you to world’s beyond. It’s raining, and the brisk autumn air begins to nip when the sun sinks below the horizon, but you’ve been nestled totally content in your home since well before the light had begun to dwindle. Dinner was forgotten after a quick shower to scrub the day off your skin, the world so colorfully illustrated in black and white sucking you in too far for you even to feel the passage of time.

Heroes and heroines, love stories and daring rescues, it isn’t your usual genre, but after enough recommendations you’d decided to give it a try, swallowing your pride to admit the praise was well earned to your friends when they asked.

Knock knock

The sound of a fist slamming brutally against your door has your heart skipping as you squeak in shock, your eyes shooting to your clock to find it was nearing 1 AM, a time well beyond acceptable visiting hours. Another two bangs, and your spine goes rigid with fear.

“Are you home?” Even through the door, the sound of that slurred voice has your terror ebbing and annoyance flowing in its place. “Can you open the door? Please?”

Though you already know who it is, you peek through the small round glass, a mess of dirty blonde hair hunched against the doorframe greeting you. Muttering under your breath, you undo the chain, wrenching the door open hard enough to have none other than Leon S. Kennedy toppling over face-first at your feet.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you spit, your tone laced with so much venom even you feel its poison.

“Just needed to see you,” he practically whines, groaning against your cheap wooden floors.

“We’re not doing this, Leon. I told you, I’m done.”

“Please, Bug.”

“Don’t call me that.”

It’s almost embarrassing watching him try to stand, the thick arms that usually sweep you off your feet with ease barely able to push himself up, his face falling into your stomach as his foot gives way beneath him seconds after getting himself onto one knee. Instinct has you catching him from falling, and he wraps himself around you like a life raft, breathing in deeply as if he’s been trapped beneath the rolling tides and just found the surface. The desperation of it plucks at your pity chord, and your fingers thread into his hair and scrape against his scalp in the way you know he likes, soothing hushes falling from your lips as you cradle him close.

Your past with Leon is tumultuous, he is a man torn in two by the duties he’d sworn to uphold and the one thing that could convince him to give it all up and walk away. You’d met by accident, crossing paths with him at an event and leaving when his eyes as blue as a summer sky had consumed you completely. He was as sweet and playful as he was dark and deadly, and he’s careful to keep that latter side as far away from you as he could. And that quest had begun keeping him away for longer stretches, his ability to lock away the pain and anguish that plagued him beginning to fail.

Spain had been his last location, he’d told you before he left he’d be overseas for an undetermined amount of time. It had been months. After weeks of checking reports and news articles to see if Officer Leon Kennedy had been killed daily, you’d given up. The thought that maybe he’d lied had passed through your mind, maybe it was his way of finally cutting whatever co-dependent cord that attached you to each other. Someone had to be brave and strong enough to do it, and you were certain that couldn’t be you. But here he is, drunk off his ass and clinging to you with every ounce of strength he has, and whatever his alcohol-induced plan is, you hate to admit it’s working.

You knew he was back, it had been all over the news, “President’s Daughter Saved by Hero!” That happened two weeks ago. Seeing him applauded had made your chest swell in pride until you recalled telling him this drawn-out sham of a relationship was over when he’d brought you the news of his latest assignment. You couldn’t take it anymore, the distance and the secrets, the months away and the lack of contact. It was practically debilitating, but it hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t your concern anymore in those months he was gone. It felt worse than waiting for an email he’d sneak in or a spotty phone call where you could barely make out the words but the sound of his voice still washed over you like a soothing balm.

It’s why you couldn’t truly be angry now.

“Let’s go,” you finally urge, your tone gentler now, “Bed.”

It takes every bit of your strength to pull him into your bed, whiskey heavy on his breath when he collapses on top of you while mustering enough decency to kick his boots off as he sighs in what must be relief. Your lights are still on, and you’re certain the door is unlocked, but there’s no moving now, he’s too heavy and warm and familiar. You can’t be mad, because then you’d have to admit that you didn’t want this, that you hadn’t thought about the way your mattress just feels more comfortable with his weight dipping it down to the perfect point. It would be a lie.

“Leon?” you whisper into his hair–it smells like a bar, stale, musty cigarettes and sweat–but he’s already out cold, too comfortable and content in your embrace now to stay awake.

He sees more horrors in a week than most do in their lifetime, and he finds safety here. It’s something you take for granted, especially in the long stretches of his absence filled with solo dinners and lonely nights, but it’s impossible to forget as he’s curled into you as much as his large frame allows, his breathing slow and easy. The familiarity of it drags you under, your eyes drifting closed as your fingers scratch soothingly up and down his spine.

******

Butter crackles and pops over the hum of your podcast coming through the small speaker beside the sink. Early morning light filters in through the paper shades still drawn in the kitchen, the tiles cool on your bare feet while you chop fruit and various toppings for the omelet you’ve been thinking about making since last night.

Leon was still in bed, getting out from beneath his heavy body without waking him could be considered your morning workout. He hadn’t moved an inch all night from where he’d fallen asleep pressed to your chest. When your rumbling stomach had become too much to bear you’d had to pull away, despite how little you found yourself wanting to.

“That smells good,” a sheepish voice calls from the doorway, your head turning to find Leon slumped against the frame scratching the back of his head, his eyes avoiding yours, “I’ll go. I’m sorry for showing up like this. Thanks…for not kicking me out onto the street.”

“You can stay. Just take a shower. I can smell you from here.”

He laughs, his face lighting up enough to wash away the harrowing look he’d been wearing, “You didn’t throw my clothes out onto the curb?”

“I didn’t, actually. I like your shirts.”

“Well, they look better on you anyway.”

Ten minutes later as you plate fruit and omelets and pull two slices of bread from the bag on the counter, you hear him approaching, and you don’t even try to suppress the happy little smile settling on your lips. Flicking the toaster on as you spin, you soak in the sight of him turning into the room that always looks smaller when he’s in it. His hair is still damp and hanging loosely in his face, the shirt that was too tight months ago now on the verge of tearing at the seams when he reaches up to comb his locks out of his eyes. He looks better, the color returning to his face and the glow to the sea glass eyes you’d swam in so many times before. Your throat seizes for a moment when he flashes you a content smirk.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, your breath hitching when his arms cage you against the counter, his lips centimeters from yours.

“I forgot how pretty you look in the morning,” he whispers, his thumb and pointer tipping your chin up softly.

He gives you no time to comment on the blatant deflection, his pouty lips pressing to yours as he cups the back of your head, groaning when you reciprocate eagerly. Immediately, your hands find the warm, solid stretch of his chest, your hand falling instinctually to the steady beat of his heart. You’d learned early on that every symphony it beat into your ear as you laid on his chest could be the last, so the gentle taps against your palm are a welcome reminder that he’s still here. The dangers he faced had yet to lay claim.

“Missed you, Bug,” he murmurs against your lips, his nose nuzzling yours.

“Missed you, too,” you finally confirm, his relieved huff of laughter hot on your skin as he sighs in relief, kissing your forehead.

“Still mad at me?”

“Not til the next time you leave.”

“Gonna let me in the house when I get back?”

“If you’re lucky.”

It’s easy to tell he’s trying to control himself, the hardened bulge pressing against your inner thigh giving him away. His lips can’t stop pressing against yours, taking advantage of every pause in the conversation to peck at your still-speaking mouth, your arms finally wrapping around his neck warmly, his head burying into the crook of your neck. You lean your head against him, cradling him in the way you know he loves, his deep, content breaths heating the thin skin of your throat.

“I’m never lucky,” he sighs, and your heart aches for him.

This time is different, and you don’t know why. He always comes back battered and bruised both mentally and physically, but this time seems to have affected him even more than all the others. You don’t ask for details, he won’t tell you anyway, but you know he can work through it here, however slowly.

“You have a key, Leon,” you remind him with a chuckle, threading your fingers into his hair, “You can get in whenever you want.”

“You have to want me here,” he mumbles, “I have my own bed to sleep alone in.”

“I want you here.”

With those words, you pull his head up to stare into his tired eyes. You do want him here, and though your last outburst certainly had given him reason to think you didn’t, you hope he believes you now in the warm, soft realm of your embrace.

“I want you here,” you repeat, “I want you here. Not there. Do you know what it’s like when you’re away?! I make myself sick, obsessing over the news and…and obituaries…”

You pull away to read the guilt falling over his features. It had come out harsher than you intended to, but the point was made.

“I love you,” you whisper and then watch as he shatters.

“Saying things like that might make me consider retirement,” he chokes out, closing the space you’d made and leaning his forehead against yours.

“Oh yeah?” you respond, a sultry lilt to your tone as your hand drifts to the waistband of his sweatpants. “And what might convince you then?”

Before he can answer, your hand grips his already stiffened length, the way his breath trembles as you tug slowly sending a surge to your core. It takes him a moment to recalibrate as you drag your hand over him, and when he does, the ease at which he hoists you onto the counter makes you yelp, your arms wrapping around his neck as he wrestles your shorts off your hips.

As soon as you’re free, you spread your legs wide, ready for his body to notch between them in a perfect fit, but instead, he sinks to the floor. Teeth graze over your inner thighs, just the thought of how close his mouth is makes your cunt clench around nothing but anticipation. Rough hands loop around your legs, pulling you closer to the edge before pressing his lips to your clit and suckling just enough to make you buck up against his face. His hair is soft when you knot your fingers through it and lean back against the cabinet behind you, his tongue probing into your fluttering hole greedily as he seeks to reacquaint with what he’d missed.

Muffled groans are vibrating against you as he weaves through your slit, lapping at your juices leaking free before petitioning for more at your swollen bundle of nerves. You can see your arousal shining on his face when he pauses to take a lungful of air through a slackened jaw, his eyes as lidded as they were last night under the effect of alcohol. It’s shameless and unhindered the way he takes his fill, not that he was ever very timid before, but this time it feels like he wants and needs more, or maybe like he’d been afraid he’d never get to do this again.

You can already tell he won’t relent until you come on his mouth, so as the coil in your belly winds ever tighter you tug him by the blonde knots in your fist where you need him, enjoying the way he whined against your slick skin appreciatively. Two fingers slip inside you as his lips lock around your nub, curving and pressing the soft patch on your inner wall that has your vision flashing white. Every nerve is standing on edge as you lose control, your toes curling and fingers tugging on his hair hard enough it has to hurt, but he doesn’t stop or protest.

“Leon!” you cry out as you finally release his head to brace yourself on the countertop’s edge, “Lee-hmmm…”

His name is the last coherent word you get out before it’s only feral moans of bliss. You’re so close it’s like a fire burning in your limbs, every muscle tensing as you try to withhold it a little longer to prolong this moment where all you cared about was him and the way he could send you into the stars. When the tip of his tongue pinpoints and stiffens to flick teasingly before he latches once again, that’s all it takes to have the elastic snaps, sending a shockwave from your core all the way to the tips of your fingers, your scream echoing off the counters and windows. He’s satisfied with himself, smiling as he stands and lets your legs fall limply from his grasp, his hands catching your boneless body from slinking down onto the floor.

“M’gonna fuck you now,” he warns, gripping his cock that’s flushed purple and notching at your entrance, your response is nothing more than blind, sloppy kisses as you clean the taste of yourself off of his lips.

Your body welcomes him eagerly, sucking him in on his first thrust to the root. He sighs, gripping your waist to keep you still during the onslaught he’s set to release after you rip his shirt up over his head. Broad shoulders and thick pecs keep your fingers busy as you rememorize every dip and curve of his body, the slapping of skin on skin drowning out the pathetic whines falling from both of you as the sticky arousal leaking from your pussy soaks the patch of blonde hair at his base and drips down his thighs to pool on the waist of his pants he’s pulled down just enough. He’s not gentle, taking everything he needs with every hard piston of his hips, your legs quivering around him as you take every thick inch of him with no resistance.

Leon wants to slow down, to savor the friction of your silky walls over his dick that’s craved anything but his own calloused hand for months, but he can’t. Not when you’re so wet it takes all his concentration to not slip right out of your gaping hole that’s pulling him in with a vicelike grip. He wants to flip you around and bend you over the counter, take you from behind where he can arch your back by tugging your hair, your ass rippling from the force of his thrusts, but you’re still kissing him so sweetly as he fucks you this hard, his throat currently being lavished by your affection instead of strangled by a monster. And it’s that reminder that sets him over the edge.

Thick, hot ropes of cum fill your cunt as his head falls to your shoulder, his thumb flicking over your clit as he steadies his breath and his cock softens. It doesn’t take long for you to find release once again, gentler this time, quieter than the wildfire of the first and you let it ember as the mix of your releases leaks free, drenching you both and dripping onto the floor.

When he lifts his head to smile at you, his cheeks are flushed rosy pink, his eyes sparkling like gemstones before he cups the back of your head and kisses you in a silent thanks.

“I, uh, think we burnt the toast,” he chuckles, kissing you again before you can utter an unnecessary apology as the smell of charred bread finally registers, “Good thing I already had breakfast.”

Masterlist

#leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #re4r leon #leon kennedy fanfic #leon x reader

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slytherintrikru · 7 months

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|| First Time || (‘It Wasn’t A Dream’ part 2)

— Part 2 —

Pairing: Severus Snape x gryffindor!student!reader (SHE’S OF AGE)

Word Count: 5206

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 16+, dry humping, fingering, clit rubbing, cock in Vigina, male and female, adult content, adult language, cuss words, cum swallowing, fluff, out of character snape, newly graduated student, professor, younger woman with older man, first time, first kiss, kissing, hickeys, both are virgins. (SHE IS OF AGE)

Summary: Y/N and Severus have been dating for three months. She has just found out she graduated Hogwarts, will Severus and her celebrate in a special way? Read to find out. (SHE’S OF AGE)

Requested: by no one this is my idea

A/N: Hello, my fellow Dreamers, hope you like part 2 of ‘It Wasn’t A Dream’. This part might have smut, but you have to read to find out..😏 BTW I also already posted this on my AO3 account @ slytherintrikru. ( PS: hope you don’t mind I called you guys dreamers. I wanted my readers to have a name instead of being just ‘readers’ or followers’)

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Y/N's heart raced with excitement as she dashed down the corridors of Hogwarts, her footsteps echoing through the ancient stone walls. Passing her 8th year was an incredible achievement, especially considering the tumultuous years when Voldemort had threatened the school and everyone in the wizarding and muggle world. A mixture of disbelief and pride surged within her; she couldn't believe she had not only survived but thrived in the magical world. With the recent defeat of Voldemort by Harry Potter, a renewed sense of hope permeated the air. Y/N's destination was the dungeons, where Severus Snape, her devoted boyfriend, resided. The thought of seeing him made her steps quicken even more. She couldn't wait to share her accomplishment with him, someone who understood her struggles and dreams. As she hurried towards his private chambers, she imagined how they would celebrate her graduation from Hogwarts together, cherishing the moments that lay ahead.

She’s hoping to Merlin that they could celebrate by taking things further in their relationship.

Y/N and Severus had been entwined in a love that felt as though it had existed for far longer than three months. Despite the simplicity of their interactions—conversations that danced between intellect and laughter, and passionate moments that left them breathless—they couldn't quench their thirst for one another. It was a love born of mutual admiration and deep understanding. Y/N was wholeheartedly enamored by Severus, his every word and touch etching deeper into her heart. Her desire to build a life with him, to be his partner in every sense of the word, consumed her thoughts. With every tender kiss and whispered confession, he reciprocated her feelings, the unspoken understanding between them affirming their connection. Y/N longed to make him see himself through her eyes, to recognize the extraordinary beauty he possessed, both inside and out. Their love was a tapestry woven with unwavering devotion, a promise of forever that left them yearning for nothing more than each other's embrace.

In those transformative three months, their connection deepened immeasurably, leading to revelations that brought them closer than ever. With a profound sense of vulnerability, they confessed that they were both virgins, their body’s unclaimed by anyone before. Y/N, despite her curiosity, had never allowed herself the exploration of pleasure, each attempt leaving her searching for something more profound. Severus, too, had kept his desires in check, his solitary moments reserved for relief rather than intimacy. But as their love flourished, so did their longing to bridge the gap between them physically. Today held the promise of a change they both yearned for desperately, the culmination of their shared desires and the day Y/N had eagerly anticipated since the moment her feelings were laid bare.

She just hopes that it’s the day where she and him could make love. She's been daydreaming about it for a while and each time she created scenarios her body and mind would scream for to go to him.

Y/N's heart raced as she finally reached his chambers, her anticipation pulsating with each breath. With an eager hand, she swiftly opened the door, her eagerness spilling into the room. The door closed with a resounding thud, and her voice burst forth, calling out for her beloved Severus. "Severus!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of longing and excitement, the sound of her own voice echoing off the walls of his private haven.

“Sev! Severus!” She yelled for him again, waiting with intensity as she heard his bedroom door open abruptly. He stepped out of the room and before he could even get a word in, Y/N ran and flung her arms around Severus, almost knocking both of them over in the process. Luckily Severus caught himself and instantly wrapped his arms immediately.

“Hi, love.” He whispered for only her to hear, as if there was no else in the world but them, her smile widened even more hearing his rough, sexy voice in her ear. “I take it you’ve seen your grades?”

“Yes! I graduated, Severus. I did it Sev!” She happily said. She pulled back looking into his dark chocolate brown eyes. She saw as his smile widened across his face and his eyes twinkled with love and admiration as he looked at her.

“I’m proud of you, my little one.” He whispered for only her to hear. His smile was as bright as hers while saying this. His hands were rubbing her softly on her back up and down. She felt relaxed with him doing that, she loved this side of him so very much.

“I couldn’t have passed my exams if it wasn't for your encouragement, Severus. You helped me a lot!” She said, letting her hands slide up and around his neck and through his shoulder-length ink black hair. Severus sighed at the feeling at her soft and gentle touch before speaking again.

“It was all you, little one, I merely helped. You’re the one who studied and successfully passed. You did all the work, little love.” He said, pulling her as close as he possibly could while tightening his grip almost as if she was going to disappear at any moment and never return to him again.

Without realizing what she was saying she spoke the three words neither of them had spoken, “I love you.” She muttered, she stopped with what she was doing and froze looking shocked as ever, scared to stare into his eyes. This is the first time I ever spoke that out loud, she thought. After a few moments she finally looked at Severus, his smile was gone, he had the same expression as hers on his face. oh no I ruined the moment. She thought. “I’m s-“ she started to speak but was cut off by him.

“I love you too, my precious one.” He said, now smiling again. Kissing the top of her head.

“Really?” She happily questioned. Staring into his dark brown eyes trying to find an answer for her simple question.

“Yes really, I have been meaning to tell you, but you’ve beat me to it.” He muttered, leaning in kissing her lips softly, the kiss was so soft it was as if he was making a wish with a dandelion, before pulling away. His hands moved from her back and found a place on her hips, squeezing lightly.

Time seemed to stand still as Y/N and Severus locked eyes, a silent exchange of emotions passing between them in those fleeting moments. The air was charged with an unspoken understanding, their gazes speaking volumes that words could never capture. In the hushed intensity of their connection, Severus leaned towards her once more, their lips meeting in a kiss that held the promise of countless unspoken desires. The touch was gentle yet electric, a fusion of tenderness and urgency that encapsulated their longing.

The kiss became more and more needy by the second, it started to become needy in a sexual way, it wasn’t just a normal snogging session. As he finally surrendered to the pull that had drawn them together, the world around them faded, leaving only the exquisite sensation of their lips meeting in a union of shared affection.

Y/N was flushed, she was more flushed than she was when they shared their first kiss a few months ago, “I want to have sex with you.” She bluntly told him. She looks away embarrassed about her outburst of words.

Severus grabs her chin gently, making her look at him.

“You do? Do you want to take this further, my baby girl?” He asked, smirking.

“Yes please make me feel good, Sev.” She muttered honestly, looking lovely at him.

“Ok, my little butterfly, but if you start to feel uneasy just tell me and I’ll stop.” She nodded in response.

Her gaze shifted between his lips and his eyes, a magnetic pull drawing her back and forth. Without hesitation, she crushed her lips against his once more, the kiss ignited with an insatiable fervor. In response, he met her passion with an intensity that mirrored her own, his lips moving in perfect harmony with hers. A hand slid to the back of her head, pulling her closer, while the other found its way to her ass, the heat of his touch electrifying her senses. Stepping backward, he guided her until her back met the cool solidity of the wall, the embrace intensifying their connection. His tongue traced the contour of her lower lip, a silent request for entry that she willingly granted, allowing him to explore the depths of her mouth. A subtle struggle for dominance unfolded as their tongues danced, an unspoken battle that she ultimately relinquished to him. Slowly, his lips embarked on a journey downward, leaving a trail of heated, moist sensations along her jawline, inching closer to the tender spot at her throat that begged to be found.

She moaned, he smirked knowing that he has found the spot that makes her whimper for him and only him. Her hands moved towards his hair and she tightened her grip in his soft and fluffy hair causing the man to growl in response, he slapped her ass. A whine left her lips, making him smirk.

“My eager little princess, moaning for me and only me. Now be my good little angel girl and take what you want.” He hissed into her ear seductively. The hand that he had in her hair moved from her head, and made its way down towards her shorts, pulling them back quickly, before sticking his hand completely into her shorts and underwear. His thumb found its way to her clit, rubbing her bundle of nerves slowly causing her to let out a soft moan. “Yes, my darling little one. Moan for me. Just for me, ONLY for me.” He said tighten his hold on her with his other arm.

He pushed his thumb harder into Y/N’s clit, rubbing tight and slow circles as he kissed and nipped at her neck, making her feel pleasure she has never felt a day in her life. She lifted one of her legs and tightly wrapped it around his waist bucking her hips into his hand so she could get as much pressure on her clit as possible. Y/N wanted his mouth on her neck again, kissing her skin, so she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling slightly, causing his face to fall forward burying it on the side of her neck. Severus growled again, getting the jester, her lover attached his lips to her neck sucking on her neck.

“Please Sev! Please.” She gasped, as she moans at the new feeling he was making her feel.

“Does this feel good my angel? Does this make you want to cum? Hmm?” Speeding his thumb up more as his middle finger made its way to her opening, entering her swiftly yet softly, making her jump a little from the new pressure, his middle finger stilled for a moment and then he started to move in a come here motion. When he felt Y/N start to move her hips into his hand faster, his middle finger sped up. He spoke again, “That’s it, my sweet sweet love, move your hips and rub that pussy on my hand, take what you want from me. My little angel, your pussy feels so fucking good and my cock hasn’t even entered you yet.”

She did as he told her and started moving even faster, moaning and panting at the way he was making her feel. Y/N moved harder when she felt this odd sensation in her abdomen. It felt like her insides was doing flips, she likes that feeling. He felt her velvety walls squeezed around his finger and he sped up his pace in her tight, soft, wet hole while he added more pressure to her clit making sure her pussy throbbed for him more. This is the first time she has felt like this down there and it feels so good. She wants more. She continued to rub her pussy on his hand making sure to add pressure to her bundle of nerves so she’ll be able to feel that pleasure in her abdomen again. FUCK! fuck, want more of him, just him, only him. Feels so good. He makes me feel so good, so wet. Her thoughts were cut by the sound of her own moans. Her mind spinning in circles while pussy was pulsing around his thick finger and it felt spectacular.

“Yes! Oh Merlin, yes. Severus don’t stop I- you feel so- awh.“ she pulled him tightly against as she was stopped by her own cry of pleasure, she felt a hot liquid spill from her pussy all over his hand and her underwear. I came already? She thought. Her face turned a bright shade of red, she felt embarrassed that she couldn’t hold it in and that she came that quickly.

Instead of moving his hand he let out a deep groan while she was cumming all over his hand as he continued to add even more pleasure to her clit so she’ll be able to ride out her high, which he caused. He started to kiss and bite at her neck while making his way down her chest leaving hickies so everyone will know she belongs to him and him only. His arm around her squeezed her delicately as he held her body to him not wanting to move.

Finally, removed his hand and pulled back just enough so she’ll be able to see him stick his fingers in his mouth, tasting her juices while moaning and groaning as he did so. He quickly pulled his fingers out of his mouth and kissed her passionately letting her know she did good for him. He finally pulled away looking at her beautiful face, smirking at the way her eyes was barely open and mouth agape. Knowing it was him who did this to her made him brim with pride. So fucking beautiful. He thought.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and heard.” He breathed out, her eyes opened fully and she saw his pupils was dilated. Y/N could hardly see his brown onyx eyes anymore. When her eyes met his that was when he saw the look in her beautiful eyes, he instantly knew what she was feeling and said, “Don’t second guess yourself, little one, what you just did was dangerously sexy.” He kissed her lips again.

She felt the weight on her chest lift at his words.

“That felt so amazing, Severus I never felt like that in my lifetime and I want more Sev, please give me more. Please.” She begged almost moaning in the process. “Make me yours completely Sev. Fuck me hard and fast into the bed.”

In a moment of involuntary movement, her hips shifted forward against his hard clothed cock, causing him to let out a suppressed moan. Her own nervousness showed as she tentatively pressed closer, her breath catching at the sensation. Amidst the uncertainty, her body's response had soaked through her underwear and shorts, revealing her arousal. Severus leaned his head back, absorbing the overwhelming sensations, letting a hint of pleasure course through him. He proceeded cautiously, wanting to ease her into the experience without causing any pain. Their hips began to sway together, a mixture of curiosity and excitement in the air as they both emitted soft, unsure sounds. The rhythm intensified, and he pushed against her a bit more urgently, feeling the tension build. Their movements became faster, though they retained a degree of innocence in their exploration. They moan loudly at the new feeling. Gently, he held her hips to still their motion, preparing for the next step. With a nervous yet determined resolve, he lifted her and guided her towards the bedroom, laying her down as he hovered above. In the safety of that private space, they continued their intimate movements, her legs wrapping around his hips to bring him closer, both of them navigating new territory with a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

He battles with the urge to halt, recognizing the need for restraint, even as the tantalizing sensation of her moist core against him remains irresistible. Pausing for a brief moment, he hurriedly removes his own clothes, seeking her permission with an inquisitive glance. With an eager nod, she signals her consent. Swiftly, he undresses her, mindful of her comfort, and then he grasps his firm, long, thick, & hard cock. Gently inserting himself between her folds, they resume their rhythm of gentle grinding. He pays careful attention to ensure the tip of his shaft presses against her sensitive areas, particularly her clit, generating pleasurable pressure against her bundle of nerves. Y/N becomes captivated by the sensations, as if she's been transported to an ethereal realm she never wishes to depart from. The seamless glide of his impressive length along her folds, the precise alignment that brings the tip of his member into contact with her clit, all contribute to her enchantment. Amidst her heightened arousal, her moans escape once more, and she clings tightly to him, wrapping her legs around his form in a blend of desire and trepidation.

“Feels. So. Good.” With each word he said he thrusted harder than the last causing her to moan into his ear. The bed started to shake at how hard and fast he was pushing into her. His cock sliding and pushing against her whole pussy that has become wetter than before letting him easily move against her folds. The veins on his cock were becoming more evident. He loudly moaned into her ear feeling so much pleasure from the way they were rubbing together. She loves that sound.

He bucked his hips into her, rubbing his already hard cock against her humping as fast and as hard as he could. He slipped his hand between them, opening her pussy lips so she could feel his cock on her throbbing core. She moaned. The way he made sure his cock was hitting her clit every time he moved his dick into her was making her see stars in her eyes. Her eyes disappeared into the back of her head at how good he was making her feel. She couldn’t get enough and wanted more so she started moving her hips as well adding on to the pleasure. Her nails dug into his back making Severus hiss in pleasure and pain. Even dry humping feels good to her. Fuck her cunt feels so amazing against me. His eyes slowly closed from the pleasure as he just lived in the moment feeling so good at what he was receiving and loving ever second of it.

“Awh, fuck, fuck, fuck. That’s it, baby harder.” She moaned, coping him by pushing harder and faster into him when she said each word.

He pressed into her with force, a fervent desire to draw as close as physically possible evident in his movements. His weight bore down on her as he thrust, the pulsating ache of his erection yearning for fullness within her, though restraint held him back. His primary focus lay in preparing her for the impending connection. Unrestrained, he persisted in their dry humping, the friction intensifying as he pressed firmly against her, attuned to her moans that seemed to implore him for equal pleasure. Encouraged by her engagement, she matched his rhythm, enhancing their mutual experience with the urgency of her own movements.

“Do. You. Like. The. Way. My. Cock. Feels.” He said thrusting a lot faster with each word he spoke, putting as much weight on her cunt as he possibly could, making her bundle of nerves throb and tingle even more. She moaned out a ‘yes’ feeling intoxicated by his big cock. He moved back slightly before thrusting hard towards her causing her to whine out. He growled back in return.

Before words could escape either of them, a shared moan erupted as they reached a climax in tandem. As the echoes of their orgasms subsided, she resumed her movements against him, driven by an unquenchable desire. Clinging tightly with her legs, she intensified her grinding, an urgent determination guiding her actions. She seemed possessed by an insatiable craving for him, an overwhelming force that resisted any attempt to halt. Each motion was driven by an unyielding need for more, a single focus on him alone. Her attentiveness to his pleasure remained evident as she maneuvered, ensuring his substantial length struck precisely against her bundle of nerves. The fervor of her actions escalated, pressing him further against her in a testament to her yearning. Her hand ventured downwards to the point of connection, exerting pressure upon him that elicited twin whimpers of shared longing. Progressing with unabated eagerness, her fingers encircled him, stimulating the head of his erection with unrelenting intensity against her clit.

“Love, you have to stop so I can continue getting you ready to take my cock in your tight cunt.” He muttered, while breathily moans escaped his lips and filled her ears turning her on even more. Her pussy feels so good on my cock though, he thought. He moaned lowly again feeling her pussy heat on him when she pushed his whole dick against her wetness.

“No! No! Please more, I don’t wanna stop. I want to feel good again, Sev. I want to cum again, please keep going.” She begged “Please, so good, almost there,

your cock feels so damn good on my cunt.”

“I will make you cum again, love, but you have to stop for a second.” Her hips stilled waiting for his next move she felt him lift her up so he could sit on the bed this time, his hand moving towards her clit to rub circles again. Y/N moans loudly, making Severus smirk and speed up his movements with his hand. She felt the familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach again, Severus noticed and stopped his movements. She whines at the loss.

“W-W-Why did you stop!” She whimpers, trying to get more friction on her clit, but he held Y/N still and flipped her over on the bed. He was on top of her now, between her legs. Severus smirked at how eager she was.

“I’m not even close at being done with you, my slutty princess. This time, I’m burying my big cock inside of your wet tight little cunt. I want you to moan my name as you squeeze me and milk my cock with your cum until you go dry. My beautiful horny girl. Are you ready to take my cock, love?” He questioned in a low yet deep dark voice. Almost growling like a wild animal in the process. He looks into her beautiful E/C eyes. She nods eagerly. “I need you to use your words, my beautiful queen.”

She blushed, “Yes, please, I need you in me!”

“Ok, my sweet, but if you feel uncomfortable in any way just like me know and I’ll stop.” He said, she nods in response.

He resumed a trail of kisses, traveling along her neck before descending toward her breasts. As he reached them, his lips enclosed around one, sucking with a purposeful intensity on the erect bud while manipulating and fondling the other. The sensation drew her body upward, arching off the bed to amplify the friction between them. A sharp hiss of discomfort escaped her lips when he bit down on her nipple, momentarily shifting her focus. Simultaneously, his other hand ventured downward, finding its destination at her soaked entrance. Though she winced at the heightened sensitivity from her twice-repeated climax, he collected the evidence of her pleasure on his hand, then brought it to her mouth, prompting her to taste herself. In response, her moans of mingled vulnerability and desire filled the air.

One of his hands was placed by her head, while the other moved its way down toward his cock, grabbing it. His lips moved from her chest making their way towards her neck again, kissing and sucking feverishly.

He started to rub the red swollen tip of his cock on her pussy getting ready to fuck get into the bed. He groaned loudly while he rubbed his dick against her, feeling pleasure in doing so. Moving his cock up and down her soft pussy. He circled his cock around her opening before moving toward her sensitive clit. He has never expressed this desire before nor has she and it felt like he was on cloud 20 not 9, 20. It felt almost like a dream he never wanted to wake up from. A dream where they fuck for infinity and never stop no matter how much it hurts. He rubbed harder as his pre- cum started to drip and cover her pussy with his arousal.

“Do you want me to go slow and easy or do you want me to slam into you hard and fast to get the pain over with as soon as possible?”

“Start off slow, then slam into me hard and fast. I can take it, Sev.” He nodded.

Moving his cock towards her wet entrance he slowly let the tip of his dick slide in. After he slid in a bit he pulled back out and then pushed back in not going all the way in just enough so she’ll be able to feel what he’s about to do. He continued that for a while making her a moaning and squirming mess underneath him before she was begging for more.

Without warning he pulled back a little than harshly slammed back into hard making her yelp in pain but pleasure as well his hips stilled for a moment. Damn she’s so fucking tight and wet. Calm down Severus it’s her first time as well as yours but this hurts her more than me don’t fuck it up, his thoughts ran wild.

As the discomfort subsided, she initiated a gentle rotation of her hips, an act that symbolized her gradual acceptance of him, and only him. Sensing the opportune moment, he withdrew and reentered with an intensified force, evoking harmonized moans from both of them. Sustaining his vigorous rhythm, he maintained a powerful and relentless pace, delving as deeply as the confines of her tightness would allow. Every thrust conveyed an unspoken connection, a tangible presence of his entirety within her. She feels so fucking warm, fuck, her pussy is squeezing me so tight my dick might fall off. Her velvety walls feel like heaven, He thought. He moans loudly in Y/N ear, making her even more wetter.

In that intimate moment, she experienced the sensation of his pulsating presence brushing against her moist core, moving with urgency and intensity. Her impassioned cries resonated loudly, resembling almost a scream, matched by his deep groans and primal responses to the symphony of her pleasure. The connection they shared overwhelmed them, a profound sense of affection enveloping them both.

So good this feels even better than the other. “Awh- oh fucking hell- sev.” She uttered out breathlessly.

“My sweet girl, your pussy feels so good it makes me want to stay inside you forever. You’re squeezing me so tight I can tell you’re close to my little love bug. Release for me, angel.” He moaned out, he thrusted into her deeper with each word.

He accelerated his rhythm, pushing himself to the limits, relentlessly thrusting into her with an intensity that made both them and the bed quiver. The sensation of her enveloping him so snugly heightened his pleasure, and although this was unfamiliar territory for him, the connection between them felt instinctive and seamless. Even Lily paled in comparison to the depth of emotion he shared with Y/N, rendering those memories insignificant in comparison. Lily was nothing compared to Y/N, he thought.

“I love you, S-Sev! I love you so much!” She moaned breathlessly in his ear.

“I love you too, my little darling.” He responded, thrusting faster into her pussy. Her eyes roll to the back of her head as she moans.

They both experienced a blazing sensation of pleasure, as if their insides were ablaze. He intensified his movements, going deeper and more vigorously, causing their moans to become louder and more intense. He was aware that their sounds probably echoed throughout the entire castle, but he paid no attention. He quickened the rhythm of his thrusts, feeling the ebb and flow of his body against hers, ensuring his movements hit just the right spot. His abdomen was rubbing against her swollen clit. Despite any discomfort, she was resolute in her desire for this connection, wanting to be with him in this way indefinitely.

He entered her with a newfound intensity, thrusting deeper and quicker than before. It was as though his body was moving beyond his control, like the effects of the Imperius Curse. His desire for more was insatiable—he craved a union so passionate that they would be left exquisitely sensitive and spent. His wish was to continue until both were thoroughly exhausted from their shared climax. He longed for his essence to spill into her, finding its way to her womb, leading to the possibility of her carrying his child and her abdomen swelling with the promise of new life.

“Feels so good. Can’t stop. Can’t st-“ He caught his breath, a gasp lodged in his throat, and nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck, gently nipping it as a deep, guttural groan escaped him. His hips moved erratically as he released thick ribbons of his cum into her, and in response, Y/N climaxed as well, coaxing every last drop from him. Her pussy embrace held him so snugly that his movements were almost restrained.

He eased his full weight onto her as they both took a moment to catch their breath after their passionate encounter. A serene relaxation enveloped them, making the idea of moving seem undesirable to both. However, Severus recognized the necessity of tending to their cleanliness and preparing for sleep. He began to shift and rise, only for Y/N to emit a plaintive whimper, her grip on him tight.

“Where are you going?” She quipped.

“I’m just going to get a rag to clean us up, my lovely girl.” She nodded letting him go.

He swiftly rose and retrieved a damp cloth, using it to gently cleanse her pussy. She winced as he touched her oversensitive and swollen clit. "I know, my love. You're alright," he reassured her. He then flipped the cloth to its other side, cleaning his softened cock before discarding the cloth onto the floor. Once he finished, he returned to bed to join her.

He drew her near, her head finding a comfortable spot on his chest. As she began to drift into slumber, the sound of his heartbeat echoed in her ears. He tucked them both under a blanket, whispering, "Sweet dreams, my love." He muttered. With a sense of profound relaxation, he too succumbed to sleep, feeling a tranquility he had never experienced before.

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moodymisty · 2 years

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Hi there 😊 I am so glad to see someone writing (so well, I might add) for Paz Vizsla ! I am quite obsessed with him atm... May I request something for him, like falling uncontrollably in love with a jedi reader? (also with some nsfw... a little inappropriate use of the force... just enough to bring this big guy to his knees 😇😍).

Of course I know it is not easily compatible with canon so it is completely fine if you do not wish to write it, no pressure!

Thanks 💜

An opportunity to write for Paz? Hell yeah. Forgive any issues, I wrote this while sick in bed. (I don’t think it’s COVID and praying it isn’t cause I had over 6 months of long COVID last year and I’m not in the mood)

Maybe it isn't the most canon compliant thing sure, but fuck that lol. Went with kind of a order 66 padawan survivor kind of vibe, but overall it's pretty vague. imagine how you wish all, tis the point of this sort of thing.

Relationships: Paz Vizla/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lewd but not full NSFW, Inappropriate use of The Force, handjob(?)

It’s during a long hyperspace flight that Paz leans back in the creaking pilots chair, and thinks. He’s perhaps been a bit reckless at times; But he has a brain in that helmet of his, and prides himself on the minimal damage it’s taken.

But his trip to Dirahn didn’t leave him empty handed, which was part of the reason why his thoughts were so tumultuous. Maybe more so the main reason, than just part.

Judging by the description on the bounty he’d expected someone like a Zabrak armed to the teeth; Not, you. Someone in a hovel near the woods, clearly trying to hide from something. He remembers the look you’d had, of someone who was scared but couldn’t run and so they were ready to fight, even if they weren’t prepared.

He’s had that look before; He’d recognized it through the glow of your rusted unkempt lightsaber.

He couldn’t pull the trigger then, even if you’re a sworn enemy. Even if you’re the bounty he’s after.

Thats what made it all worse. It also wasn’t a problem. At least to someone with less of a moral compass.

It took more than a bit of coaxing to get you to dim your lightsaber, and even more so to step closer. Then again, he isn’t an expert in talking. Not to many Mandalorians are. But it works, and eventually the bad feeling in your gut dimmed enough to follow him.

You originally say, after a long and uncomfortable silence that he had brusquely explained that you were no longer hidden here, that he should drop you off at the next habitable planet with spots to hide. It makes sense; And at first he's more than eager to get you off of his ship. But the travel takes cycles of boring time that you fill with casual attempts and conversation and fixing your old robe, and by the time you both get to a habitable planet and he’s refueling the ship, he finds himself convincing you away from staying here.

It’s a better idea; Is the excuse he uses for himself. He attempts to ignore the way he keeps looking over at you sitting in a normally unused co-pilot seat, a dark robe comfortably swathing almost your entire body.

He finds himself in less of a rush to throw you off than he’d like to admit.

The Jedi are their sworn enemies, he knows well. Even though you insist you aren't a Jedi, Paz knows that it isn't that simple. But yet here you are, sitting in his co-pilot's seat as the stars stripe past the viewport.

Paz considers this all a lapse in judgement.

A big one.

He has to go back to the covert, and part of feels tumultuous at the idea; He's bringing someone who's supposed to be a sworn enemy this close to where is people lie hidden.

He should've just given you that first ride and dropped you off on Nar Shaddaa like you'd asked. But when he glances over to you again and sees you turn to him and give a small smile playing again with the bracelets on your wrist, he knew he would've have been able to.

Of course the time he falls irrevocably head over boots for someone, it's a Jedi.

Well, not a jedi, as you say. But you know it's just arguing semantics. In this day and age the difference is just a line in the sand.

It doesn’t take a genius to tell by the tone in his voice when you land that you aren’t welcome where he’s going, and you’re not exactly surprised.

“I’ll be back to the ship before dark.”

"Don't take too long," You manage to joke before he leaves. The ship also needs a good bit of work, after a fire fight you’d gotten into a short while back. Some of it might serve to keep you busy while he's gone, or you wander around.

You decide to wander; As the large city is too much of a temptation after so long of seclusion.

And with your newly fixed robe swathing most of your body, the hilt of your lightsaber is hidden safely behind it, you end up passing through crowds of people and around stuffed little stalls. The security of your inherited lightsaber lets you wander around safely, arms close to your body as the cold pierces your clothing.

You have vague memories of large cities like this, but overall, it's largely new.

You'd ran to the farthest planet you could make it to with the credits you had once the order fell, as even after the main slaughter many like you were still being actively hunted. Paz being a lucky break.

It's not like it's something that's exactly easy to keep a secret, the Force.

Neither is your appearance, as you can feel eyes on you as you slowly shift through a sizable crowd. There’s shops selling things everywhere and it’s almost overwhelming, compared to the peace of your woods. You must seem out of place enough that people are starting to get a little curious, particularly any locals.

From the perspective of a Jedi in hiding this would be a perfect place; as the noise from so many beings clouds the Force to such a degree that tracking is difficult.

But not for Paz, it seems.

“What are you doing out here?” It’s less so of a question and more of a statement, as he doesn’t give you much leeway to answer once you turn to look at him.

“The ship is fixed. We should be off.” It's the ladder half of the sentence that catches your ear, as you hadn't exactly heard him use one of those particular words before.

“We?” Part of you had been under the impression this was where you parted ways, even if the time you’d spent together had been surprisingly enjoyable. You wouldn’t mind sticking around, as well as it was safer being constantly on the move. However it seems Paz is content to completely ignore your question, and stares at you through the tinted visor of his helmet. He's glaring, you can feel it.

“Let’s go.”

———————--------------

Time passes slowly and incredibly quickly during hyperspace, as it feels like you're often time ferociously bored, as well as constantly busy with things.

Paz being one of those things.

You weren't sure exactly of what place in time you ended up becoming a permanent edition to the ship, but at some point you had beaten the odds, as well as Paz's hard exterior. At least made a few cracks in it. You’ve found out through it and many other little instances stuck alone up in hyperspace that Paz can be a bit of a flirt, in the right mood.

It’s just after one of those moods now, and you’ve decided to play around a bit with him when he isn't expecting it.

The force is something you’ll always need to hone but the feeling lasts on your palm as you slowly move, your hand cupped a bit as you glance over. You know exactly what you're trying to do, but you can't exactly shake the feeling that it feels a little, wrong. You still do it anyways however, biting your lip to try and avoid smirking when you glance over to take a look at the pilot's seat.

He shifts ever so slightly, so you have a good feeling it is working.

Slowly you keep it up, trying to focus but not make it incredibly obvious you are focusing on something. Afterall you can't see if he's looking at you, unless his helmet is pointed right at you. He's managed to abuse that with a few sneaky glances, you're sure. But he's not facing you now, as the reflection of stars scatter across his helmet while he looks out of the viewport.

He shifts again, and you could swear you heard him clear his throat, but the helmet muffles it almost completely. That piece of armor is the source of a good bit of your grievances, it seems.

One of his hands darts down for a second to tug at the fabric of his flightsuit, so it's more than obvious now he's getting hard. It's even hard to hold back the smirk now. You wonder how long you can get away with this before you either get caught, or he takes his leave for a moment to deal with what he surely thinks is a random thing.

Not much longer is what it seems; As mere moments after you have that thought, his helmet is turning to look right at you.

When he glances over, tempted to leave the pilot's seat for bit to take care of this, it's when he notices something about you that his body goes so rigid that even you realize you've been caught. You still keep going however, even as it's more than obvious his eyes are on your lap.

"Are you-"

He sees the way your hand is ever so slightly moving while your arm rests on your lap, and you glance at him. Your hand matches what he's feeling perfectly.

"Dirty Jedi tricks."

He doesn't have much of a chance to say anything more beyond that, as the feeling intensifies so much so that he actually lets out a somewhat loud groan while leaning forward. That sensation shot all the way up his spine, and it probably would've buckled him had he been standing. Right after he manages to gather himself just enough he suddenly bursts up from his seat, and even with his helmet on you can tell by his rigid body poster that he's more than a little bit furious.

Thats fine with you, as more often that not as you've learned that isn't exactly a bad outcome for you.

“Come here.” He doesn’t give you much choice in the matter, as he grabs your wrist- conveniently the one that was just in a way jerking him off, and drags you in the direction of his cot near the back of the ship. He throws you down onto it, just as you speak up:

“I thought you couldn’t take the helmet off?” Paz sternly gives a response.

“You’re lucky I’m taking my glove off after that trick.” Now well and truly out of your depth the engine still rumbles in the background; as Paz flips you over onto your stomach.

#mywriting #paz vizla x reader #Paz Vizla/Reader #reader insert #reader #x reader

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veronicaleighauthor · 11 months

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“The Meyersons of Meryton”: A Review

Description:

When a new family, thought to be associated with the House of Rothschild arrives in Meryton, a chain of events are set in place that threaten the betrothal of Miss Elizabeth Bennet to her beloved Mr. Darcy. Rabbi Meyerson and family are received at Longbourn. This inconvenience leads to misfortune, for when the rabbi disappears from the quiet market town, Mr. Bennet follows dutifully in his path. Her father’s sudden departure shadowed by the Wickhams’ unannounced arrival has Elizabeth judging not only her reactions to these tumultuous proceedings but her suitability as the future Mistress of Pemberley. A sensible woman would give her hand in marriage without a second thought. Can Elizabeth say goodbye forever to the one man who has captured her heart? The Meyersons of Meryton is a Pride and Prejudice variation. The narrative introduces Jewish characters and history to the beloved novel and, although there are some adult themes, this is an inspirational and clean read.

Author Bio:

Mirta Ines Trupp is a second generation Argentine; she was born in Buenos Aires in 1962 and immigrated to the United States that same year. Because of the unique fringe benefits provided by her father’s employer- Pan American Airlines- she returned to her native country frequently- growing up with "un pie acá y un pie allá" (with one foot here and one foot there).

Mirta's fascination with Jewish history and genealogy, coupled with an obsession for historical period drama, has inspired her to create unique and enlightening novels. She has been a guest speaker for book clubs, sisterhood events, genealogy societies and philanthropic organizations. Sharing her knowledge of Jewish Argentina has become her passion.

Besides being an avid novel reader, she has had a lifelong love for choral music and is a devoted Beatles fan. Follow Mirta on Amazon, Goodreads, Instagram, and BookBub or stop by her blog: www.mirtainestruppauthor.com

My Thoughts:

Nearly two months ago (again, apologies for this taking so long!) Mirta Ines Trupp invited me to read and review her books, “Celestial Persuasion,” and “The Meyersons of Meyerton.” You can read my review of the former…now here are my thoughts on the latter! I loved it – not to give anything away, it picks up where Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice” left off and takes the reader on a very different adventure. We step out of the drawing rooms and picturesque gardens, and follow Elizabeth, Darcy, and company as they take an active role in assisting Great Britain during the ongoing war. Again, I was introduced to a part of history I’m not familiar with. I’m familiar with Austen’s books and many events from that time period, but when it comes to the war, I’m fairly clueless. I like what was done with Elizabeth and Darcy – it captured Austen’s characters beautifully, while reflecting they learned their lessons from before and still have more to learn, but through the events of the story, they learn together.

We are also introduced to the Meyersons, a Jewish family who moves to Meryton and I just fell head over heels in love with them. I’m going to publicly beg the author to write a book starring one of their daughters or sons – I enjoyed them that much and want to see them again. Mr. and Mrs. Meyerson are a fantastic couple; they have a beautiful relationship and they love each other. Again, faith is woven through out and there are many discussions and comparisons of religious beliefs, but everything is respectful and realistic. This is a clean read, the romance is sweet and keeps in step of customs and religious beliefs of the time.

I highly recommend “The Meyersons of Meryton.” I know you’ll like it as much as I did.

#the meyersons of meryton #mirta ines trupp #jane austen #jane austen fanfiction #historical fiction #historical romance #regency era #read this

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mizutori-heiko · 3 years

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Mizutori’s bakudeku fanfiction master list [complete works]

Really really good writing by these incredible authors. In no particular order! These are all Top!Bakugou and Bottom!Deku. If A/B/O dynamics then it’s Alpha!Bakugou and Omega!Deku. Yes, I have preferences.

Canon World – until 15k

What The Fuck Did You Just Call Me? by reading_raindrop | 8,303 | Izuku starts calling him Bakugou and it pisses the explosive teen off a lot more than he thought it would.

Oh right, you were a little sh*t by SaysiWrites | 5,653 | When Midoriya Izuku gets hit by an age-reversion Quirk, the last thing anyone expected to find out is that Toddler-Izuku is a little shit. Except for one Bakugou Katsuki, who has seen this phase one too many times already. (Bonus+ the entire Little Sh*t (Kidfic) series)

Do Not Disturb by surveycorpsjean | 10,010 | Apply enough force, and something is bound to break.

And Atlas fell by supercrunch | 15,185 | They move in together, after a while. Katsuki joins Best Jeanist and Izuku trains under Gran Torino. They still take comfort in each other every day, curl up in bed and kiss and talk about how life is going. Their live are tumultuous, after all, what with villains and training and rescuing people every week. It’s nice to have something certain. At the end of a day filled with violence and adrenaline, Izuku knows he can come home to someone concrete. It’s perfect. Being a hero is scary and grueling and uncertain, but this part is just right. And then, one day, a child dies in Izuku’s arms.

be loved by bonnia | 5,403 | The kidnapping incident leaves bakugou traumatised about being touched on the back of his neck, and midoriya decides to take matters into his own hands.

Big Protein by Mysecretfanmoments | 13,683 | Bakugou Katsuki has a thriving hero career, an agent to manage his famous attitude, and absolutely zero romantic interest in anyone. With the exception of his favourite health food joint refusing to expand to his city, his life is pretty damn perfect—so why does a viral video revealing Deku's stash of dirty mags involving him and Deku together turn everything upside-down?

Chocolate cake and resin preserved flowers by Anoksun | 11,396 | Izuku loses his memories. Katsuki struggles not to lose Izuku too.

Twin Stars by theperksofbeinglarissa | 8,435 | When Deku saves a woman's life, her quirk is accidentally activated. Her quirk? She reveals a person's soulmate. A star-shaped mark appears on Midoriya's left arm... and on Bakugou's as well. Kirishima is the only one who knows that Bakugou is Midoriya's soulmate, and Bakugou isn't taking the news very well. Can the twin stars of class 1-A work out their differences and find their happy ending?

Unhealthy Fixations by Thesis | 12,522 | Izuku is an adult who knows better than to crush on his childhood bully. AND YET.

Like the Moon by osakakitty | 14,781 | Katsuki Bakugo is having constant, erotic dreams about Izuku Midoriya. He isn’t sure why, but they won’t go away. In order to make them stop, he needs to figure out what Izuku Midoriya means to him.

Worth a Second Shot by cinnabee | 13,080 | Katsuki and Izuku celebrate registering as a Hero Duo together with a big party. What could go wrong?

Like Something Out of A Shoujo Manga by Merrywetherweather | 2,971 | Deku ends up in a rather interesting quirk accident, one that triggers flag events as if he were the protagonist of an otome game.

Canon World – 15k++

Blood Moon by lalazee | 94,860 | The Thank-Fuck-We-Aren’t-Dead Sex had started then, and had never really stopped. Then came the feelings and the fights. The ego, the pride, the jealousy. And then there was Us.

The Way You Used To Do by edema_ruh | 669,463 | During a battle, Midoriya gets hit by a villain whose quirk detaches his soul from his body. Stuck in a ghost-like state, the boy enters a race against time in order to save himself from permanently dying. Much to his luck - or lack of it -, the only person who can see and talk to him in this state is no one other than Kacchan.

Just Like Breathing by MD_Daydreamer | 35,423 | Izuku got engaged. He didn't mind. If that made Uraraka happy, he could do it. He thought his life wouldn't change much.But then, Kacchan went to live in the USA.

briar roses (and hundred years of sleep) by vannral | 15,951 | In which Izuku is hit by a ‘Sleeping Beauty’ Quirk, Class 3-A tries to find his True Love and get them to kiss him, and Katsuki’s very angry about it all.

"what's your type?" by sapphicflower | 20,192 | In order to increase their popularity rankings as up and coming pro heroes, Izuku and Katsuki participate in the most popular late night talk show for hero duos - ‘Heroes Rising!’. They’re killing it, obviously, because they know each other from inside and out. Until one question stumps the two of them: “What is your hero partner’s type?”

and it was Just Right by cinnabee | 23,759 | Katsuki spends two years post-graduation in a furious one-sided competition with his childhood friend and rival's promotional photos - until they finally run into each other, and, well. You shouldn't believe everything you see in magazines. A love story about size differences.

Notice Me, Nerd by useless_donut | 40,000 | Bakugou is in love with Midoriya. He doesn’t hide it, in fact it’s so painfully obvious that the entire class of 3-A has him figured out in a matter of months (days, in some cases). Too bad Midoriya is the most oblivious motherfucker out there, and Bakugou is too damn stubborn to actually ask him out. A love story as witnessed by the class of 3-A.

in your dreams, nerd! by sapphicflower | 37,639 | In a strange and unexpected set of circumstances, Izuku and Katsuki find themselves sharing their dreams together whenever they happen to fall asleep at the same time. Being hopelessly in love with each other, they don’t mind it all that much. What better way to spend time with your crush than in a stupidly vivid dream?

Hear Me by my_name_is_Levi | 22,419 | It wasn’t as if nightmares were uncommon for the freshman class of Yuuei. They’d seen plenty of things, heard and felt and witnessed enough travesty in their lives to last them a lifetime. But Midoriya Izuku was screaming, and no one, not even Bakugo Katsuki could ignore it.

Bridges by supercrunch | 18,018 | Bakugou is signed up for a Calvin Klein modeling gig. The thing is, they really do need the money. And Katsuki's technically the leader of this bunch of morons, so he finds himself taking the job even though his pride will never recover. And even though nobody thought to tell him that he'd be working with his ex-boyfriend. You know, the cute freckled guy from high school who went and broke his heart. So, yeah. This whole situation kind of sucks.

objective truth by mamalade | 15,390 | Izuku gets hit with a truth quirk, as one does. He seems to be handling it well—until Katsuki shows up.

catharsis by dollcewrites | 15,071 | It's been six years since Izuku graduated.It's been six years since he confessed to his childhood friend; his classmate and his inspiration. It's been six years since he deleted Bakugou's number, asked his friends not to mention the name, spent every last effort of his heart turning off the TV and averting his eyes from the newspapers. It's been six, long, long years since he gave up on Katsuki Bakugou ever loving him back.

Here here, my friends and me (You are my familia) by Jeka | 128,832 | Bakugou Katsuki has made a great job of ignoring the fact that he is tragically in love with Deku, someone who could never love him like that and let's face it, he doesn't deserve. Now that he can't ignore it anymore, he has to find a way to keep his childhood friend and move on for his own sake. Or so he had thought, maybe he can have Deku, after all. Izuku has everything he always wanted in life. But suddenly he has to navigate the most important relationship in his life through different eyes.

Canon World – Jealous!

Hands Off by SaysiWrites | 7,140 | When a new girl at school starts flirting with Bakugou, his friends quickly become invested in the idea of their friend experiencing love - even if he doesn't seem at all interested in her. What they don't see is Midoriya fuming in the background. But how can he get rid of her when they've spent so long keeping their relationship a secret?

Surfaces by surveycorpsjean | 25,225 | Katsuki has a new girlfriend, but something isn't right. As impossible as it is, Izuku can't help but wonder what it'd be like to be called Katsuki's girl.

Green-Eyed Beast by SecretKiwi | 4,721 | Everyone wants a piece of Katsuki Bakugou, but they should beware of the Green-eyed beast always lurking close behind him.

Green with Envy by Sol_Morales707 | 2,611 | Izuku Midoriya is not as innocent and pure as everyone thinks he is. The truth was he was very jealous and willing to do anything for a certain blonde.

Happy Camper by Arysa | 7,074 | Wanting a break from the stress of dealing with the rookie Pro Hero grind, a handful of students from Class A decide to go on a camping trip. Izuku's excited to relax and catch up with everyone, especially Kacchan. But, well, Kacchan's... Kacchan. And dating Kirishima.

How to stop time: kiss by Teddingtons | 31,693 | Deku finally asks Uraraka out. Everyone's supportive except Bakugou who can't even look him in the eye. Deku seeks him out after and is hit with truth.

What I Deserve by s_the_queen | 16,671 | When Izuku starts dating a student in General Studies, everyone is happy for him. She's super sweet and really caring. But something doesn't sit right with Katsuki.

Deku's Already Fucking Taken by asdfjkl129 | 20,704 | 5 times people don't realize that Deku is already in a very happy relationship and try their hand at asking him out, and then in Bakugou's unique and special style, get very firmly corrected, +1 time where no correction is needed.

His by sister_elric | 6,206 | Izuku would like to consider himself a pretty level headed individual. Sure, he had the occasional tunnel vision, especially when it came to training. And hero work. And Kacchan. But, overall, Midoriya felt as though he typically kept his cool. Well, maybe that was a stretch. But, at the very least he could understand his own emotions. So, it surprised even him when an unfamiliar emotion coursed through him as a first year approached his boyfriend, Katsuki.

Down the Red Line by MinervaHope | 7,804 | Izuku has been able to see the red strings of fate since birth. It's no surprise that his is connected to Katsuki.

Canon World – Fake Relationship Goes Wrong

how he should’ve known (and how it turned out) by vannral | 43,918 | In which Katsuki and Izuku pretend to be a couple to avoid journalists, the plan backfires magnificently because of course it does, and the act goes on. Includes feelings, pining, domestic fluff and jealousy.

Vicious by feelslikefire | 105,173 | Midoriya and Bakugou wind up in the very last position either of them thought they'd be in: Hero Partners. It's not fun, but they learn to cope. Their first big assignment together takes them undercover to infiltrate a cult, but the situation turns out far more sinister than they first thought.

What I can never tell you by Mikacrispy | 27,067 | After living in the US for 5 years, Izuku returns to take care of a concussed Bakugou who believes they're engaged. Now, Izuku has to pretend he's in a relationship with the man he's loved for most of his life, knowing that it's just a matter of time until Katsuki gets better and realizes it's all a lie.

Not-Dating by MiraChaDoodles | 14,290 | Katsuki takes Deku on a not-date to save his career, only to find himself wishing it were real.

we'll do the things that lovers do by ethereals | 29,544 | Izuku gets an invitation to Shouto's wedding and Katsuki is PISSED that he asks Kirishima to be his date (also he wasn't even fucking invited

Canon World – Friends With Benefits (?)

Four Times Bakugou Katsuki Doesn't Intend to Sleep With Midoriya Izuku (And the One Time that He Does) by fallingraine85 | 17,601 | He hadn’t planned for any of this. He isn’t about to go delving into the ball of yarn that is Midoriya Izuku’s heart; he isn’t equipped to try and untangle and make sense of it all. He isn’t about to try to analyze how he’s feeling about all of this, either.... How many times can you repeat the same mistake?

We Wear Chains on the Weekend by surveycorpsjean | 35,086 | Well, in a day of revelations, it turns out that Izuku isn't as vanilla as Katsuki previously thought. Unfortunately, that fascinating discovery is overshadowed by Izuku's dumbassery, because he has zero concept of aftercare."Don't go to anyone else," Katsuki says, because screw it. He can do a better job anyways. Or; Katsuki finds Izuku on a bad drop.

Just for Now by Shiro_Kabocha | 48,135 | Katsuki's parents are out of town over a school break and to keep him from getting up to any shenanigans, they ask Izuku to house sit with him. What are two teenaged boys to do when left alone to their own devices? (Bonus+ the entire Just for Love series)

safe in the darkness by yoonskisses | 20,855 | Izuku and Katsuki had been meeting up secretly for months, with absolutely no feelings involved. Or so Katsuki thought at least. The dorm gossip about Ochaco and Izuku's new relationship seemed to set a spanner in the works for their arrangement.

Alternative Universe – No Quirks

Bluebird by EtherealBeing | 53,108 | Dialing a wrong number was no unusual occurrence. Everyone did it once in a while, and Katsuki was well aware of that fact. However, possessing this knowledge made it no less aggravating for him to discover — a full two minutes into his rant about his day — that he’d been venting his frustrations to a complete stranger. As if that wasn't enough, said stranger was also inexplicably determined to hear his story to its end.

Someone Borrowed by mynameis152 | 138,996 | It felt like hours that he stared at Izuku, coming to terms with the fact that a man, his childhood best friend, whom he hadn’t seen since their senior year of high school, was there in front of his very eyes. Then his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched before he uttered through gritted teeth the very name Izuku had longed to hear for years. “Deku.”

Dark Side of the Sun by Synnie | 51,598 | Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn't expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

Manage Me by Justaperson1718 | 10,756 | Izuku becomes Katsuki’s model agent.

Don't Set Your Drink Down by Crandberrycrush | 88,424 | With sudden clarity Izuku realized he had broken the first rule of going out. Never leave your drink unattended.

Livewire by pretty_rekless | 18,160 | Per Ochako's request, Izuku downloads a gay dating app in hopes to finally find a partner. Except every single one of his leads keep ghosting him or standing him up... That is until one hot, fiery blond enters the chat. Grindr/Tinder AU fic.

Drinking Watermelon by warschach | 8,906 | Katsuki works as a camp counselor, and Izuku is a boy made of summer heat and sunlight.

Precious Pet by Mikacrispy | 6,379 | When broke college student Midoriya Izuku found a job that offered lodging, food, and good pay for four hours of work each day, he thought it was too good to be true. But he called anyway. Turns out all he has to do is to be the spoiled little puppy of a rich businessman.

Our Eleven Summers by Dark_Mage_Ayumu | 34,472 | The first time Katsuki met Izuku was when he was eight. For the next eleven years, Izuku changed his life, and no one even knew. Their relationship was something they shared in secret.

sticky note crushes by ladyofsnails | 3,239 | Katsuki hates his roommate. The green-haired, freckled, artsy son of a bitch with his dumb pun t-shirts and paint-stained hands he can’t fucking keep to himself. Katsuki can’t leave a single assignment or paper out in his room because that idiot will just grab anything to draw on it. He’s like a shark that can’t stop swimming else it’ll die – he can’t stop drawing. Ever.

Don't Play Pretend by SweetSide | 10,103 | Actor AU: Deku and Bakugou get the leading roles for an upcoming TV Drama. They weren’t aware that they would be working with each other for who knows how long. It would’ve been completely fine if they weren’t exes.

97.6 FM by jamjars | 32,249 | Izuku can’t stop listening to the radio host with the deep voice who sounds like he’s stuck in 2010. It’s a harmless crush. That is until he starts calling into the show under the pseudonym Deku.

Read {between} Your Lines by greatcloudninja | 52,252 | Midoriya Izuku, up-and-coming actor, has finally hit his big break (...), Bakugou Katsuki, who has been acting for over twenty years.However, Bakugou seems to have it out for Izuku, leading to tension both on and off set. When some incriminating photos surface, the studio suggests (...): having Bakugou and Midoriya fake a relationship to get ahead of the rumors.

I’m not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts by PassingShadow | 5,522 | Izuku is a professional cuddler and Katsuki is his new client that’s just a little rough around the edges, and needs a natural healing touch.

Alternative Universe – Quirkless Deku

A Good Old-Fashioned Tattoo AU by lalazee | 14,437 | After their paths had split, Bakugou & Deku meet again as adults. While Bakugou begins to repent for the kid he used to be, he also starts to prove himself as he the man he is now.

Call Me a Safe Bet (I'm Betting I'm Not) by WTTTD | 10,803 | He wished he had some sort of heads up before seeing Deku again for the first time after nearly two years, looking like the essence of a lazy Sunday, smiling and surrounded with brand new, adoring friends. It was a little fitting that Katsuki burned for him so badly. (Support Department Deku)

In Which Kacchan Has a Ruff Time by OneshotPrincess | 14,511 | Bakugou Katsuki gets quirked into a dog, gets adopted by an unknowing Izuku and generally has a very rough few days full of realizations

While You Were Sleeping by Belkacaramelka (annabelleg) | 71,197 | The one where quirkless fanboy Midoriya Izuku rescues Pro Hero Todoroki Shouto, gets mistaken as his fiancé while he is in a coma, and gets caught up in the most unlikely fake engagement... until his childhood enemy and Todoroki's classmate Bakugou Katsuki tries to catch him out, and they both end up discovering a lot more about each other than they'd expected.

Let Me Assist You Personally by Seeress | 32,806 | Izuku is long-suffering Personal Assistant to #1 Pro Hero Dynamight.Dynamight can't keep a PA to save his career. They all quit crying after a few days weeks. Enter, Izuku—with enough money problems to brave the jaws of the cranky beast. Childhood friend turned glorified paid slave. Somehow it all works out. ‘Kill them with kindness’, his mom had told him once. If that were true, Bakugou Katsuki would be stone-cold dead by now.

Smile For The Camera by kurokonekokilled | 19,179 | Midnight has a cam site, home to millions of users, but one catches Katsuki's eye when he goes scrolled through it in search for something to help him release a little stress. A live stream and the best orgasm of his life later, his wallet is lighter, and he might be almost as obsessed with this Deku guy as the cam boy is with him.

Just Like The Comics by brichibi | 24,935 | Where Izuku works at a comic book shop because that’s as close to a hero as he’s gonna get, and Katsuki plays the part of heroic ex-boyfriend who is good at everything except winning Izuku back... maybe

Alternative Universe – Quirks

Get on my Level by Mikacrispy | 92,273 | Bakugou Katsuki is a Pro Hero whose boss demands him to take an intern. Midoriya Izuku is a UA student who needs an internship. When the two of them are put together, they learn about what it truly means to be a Hero and what it means to be in love.

A/B/O – Secret! Baby

Home by Emerald2402 | 87,214 | Midoriya Izuku left Japan in a rush, moving to America without a word to anyone else. But then almost 11 years later he arrives back Home and Bakugou Katsuki's Alpha is furious. Fuck that, Bakugou is furious, because Midoriya Izuku, an omega he tasted one time, has been keeping a very big, very blonde haired, green eyed secret.

Those Under the Same Stars by PerpetuallyPerturbed | 325,553 | When Katsuki Bakugo left Izuku Midoriya five years ago, he thought it was for forever. He put aside dreams and wishes of the omega to focus on his career. He was going to be the best hero, after all. He couldn't have an omega getting in his way. So when he's stopped on the streets one day by a pup begging for help for his mom, he isn't prepared to face what he gave up, and what the consequences of his actions were. (Quirkless Deku)

A/B/O – Quirks

Mark Me. Make Me Yours. by decadentbynature | 10,062 | Midoriya is the only Omega at UA and he's been hiding it well but there's one issue that threatens to expose him: his attraction to an Alpha, Bakugo. After being told to give some paperwork to Bakugo, Midoriya lets him into his dorm room and is immediately overwhelmed by his scent. Unable to help himself, he gives in to his urges, only to be discovered by Bakugo but instead of becoming enraged, Bakugo decides to give Midoriya exactly what he wants

Claim Me by ScientificallySinful (VampireGaaraCheesepuffs) | 114,449 | Being an Alpha has nothing to do with Katsuki's success as a Pro-Hero, the same way Deku's Omega status hasn't kept him from becoming Number Two. Secondary gender doesn't mean anything nowadays and “mating” is an antiquated practice. So when Izuku, his rival, asks Katsuki to Claim him in the middle of the night, there is only one logical thing to say. “What the fuck?”

Change of Plans by Mikacrispy | 185,965 | Alpha Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki never planned to get married to some random omega but what he wants isn't an option anymore. One for All wielder Midoriya Izuku has suffered injustice too many times and doesn't plan in allowing his secondary gender to dictate how he must live his life. Falling in love was never in the plans.

Going Feral For You by ANGIE_fic | 17,977 | Bakugou has an aggression problem that might have to do with his Alpha. His job is on the line because of it. So what do you do with a pent up Alpha? Yes.Rut. (Quirkless Izuku)

i live for you, i long for you by jeonjeonggukkkkkie | 19,165 | The five times Izuku hinted he wants Katsuki to spend his next heat with him, and the one time Katsuki took the hint.

Baby's First Bloom by ContraryBee | 44,945 | Izuku blooms for Katsuki one warm day in their third year of middle school. What follows is both boys learning about themselves, their bond, and the society they live in.

As Fate Would Have It by ScientificallySinful (VampireGaaraCheesepuffs) | 88,737 | Katsuki Bakugo had plenty of reasons why he wasn't mated yet, not that he was going to explain why to just anyone. But now, Ground Zero was running out of time. If he didn't find someone soon, he'd lose his position as a Pro-Hero and he'd never get to be #1. So, when he finds out there's a male Omega recently arrested for prostitution that's headed to prison if he too doesn't get a mate…well it must be fate. (Quirkless Izuku)

A/B/O – No Quirks

Gravity by warschach | 71,477 | Izuku is back in his hometown and plenty hasn't changed much from the 8 years he was gone. Except, Katsuki Bakugou, the alpha king of their small town. He's hotter- because that's fair, right, God? -, stronger, a now-famous pro fighter, and noticeably nicer this round.Not that he cares, pfft. (Fine, he cares.)

Nine Months by greatcloudninja | 23,303 | Omega Midoriya Izuku connects with Alpha Bakugou Katsuki through an online singles ad. Izuku pays Katsuki to help him with his heat, ending up pregnant in the process. What follows is a pregnancy filled with ups and downs, but whatever hurdles come their way, they can make it through together.

The long dark by Ominous-Anonymous (Ominonymous) | 13,289 | He could have been really dangerous. He could be a fucking murderer for all he knew. But Izuku Midoriya, ever the reckless daredevil, was not thinking of that when he got into a car with a complete stranger. Completely ignoring the part where his mother always taught him to never gets into cars with alphas he didn't know...

#bakudeku #masterlist #fanfic masterlist #katsudeku #holy shit i can't believe i did this #mizutori’s personal post archive #bakudeku fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #alpha bakugou #omega izuku #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist post #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #archive of our own #ao3

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minsyal · 3 years

Text

The Fugitive: Finding Home, Pt. 2

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

The Fugitive: Finding Home Masterlist

Part 1 - The Beginning

“Mother Miranda, I’ve been requesting new maids for at least six months to this day.”

“That’s because you keep eating your other ones.”

You were shaken awake.

“I think that my castle would be best suited for her.”

“Oh, so you can bleed ‘er dry? You think that would really be the best use of anyone’s time?” A familiar voice retorted.

“Good morning!” A shrill voice squeaked as what felt like wood kicked at your face. “She’s up! She’s up! She’s up!” It exclaimed excitedly with a bounce, the voice became softer as the skittering of feet scrambled away.

“Ah,” the unfamiliar smooth woman’s voice cooed as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. There were what looked to be six figures in the room. Miranda stood before you, perched upon a stage-like area that once housed what you could only imagine was a priest or preacher. To the left sat a cloaked woman with a blob of white resting in her lap. Another woman, also adorned in a white garb, sat towering over the rest, the light constant trickle of smoke danced upward from her vintage cigarette holder. On your right sat a familiar face, the man from the village who had saved you only a few hours prior. You’d come to know him as Lord Heisenberg. He maintained the large woman’s gaze, but the look held no love or any remote sense of familial belonging. Instead, his eyes were set ablaze, even behind the shaded rims of his glasses. Lastly, a shorter creature with a large hunched back moved ungracefully around. Its long gangly arms accompanied by its deformed face only aided in the growing unease.

The dull ache of your shoulder only distracted you from the bindings of your wrists for a moment. Your attention was quickly drawn to the rough ropes that dug their thorny threads into the soft skin of your wrists. Everything ached, mentally and physically.

“I do think she would be best suited with me.” The tall woman repeated herself. “There’s no doubt Moreau wouldn’t be able to handle her, and likely not the rest of you either.”

The hunched creature whirled back, throwing a forlornly glare in the woman’s direction. You supposed that was Moreau.

“You think I couldn’t handle her?” Heisenberg shot back, bent forward to rest his weight on his heels. His relationship with the large woman was clearly tumultuous given his outburst and her subsequent reaction.

“You always get them.” The shrill voice called. It was the doll; the fucking doll was talking... not that this should surprise you at this point. “She should come with us! We need more friends.”

“You’re not included in this conversation.” The tall woman mocked with a fierce glare shot violently at the doll as its mouth hung slack.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Thus far, nobody had managed to answer your simple question. The lot turned toward you, the majority with piercing stares. “Guess not.” You muttered, becoming quite fed up with the range of emotions you had been experiencing over the past day. If it kept going in this direction, you’d surely have to be treated for whiplash.

“She’s already proven to be a considerable pain in my neck.” Miranda loudly projected. Her steps were a clear juxtaposition to her tone, falling light on the church floor as she approached. “One villager is unable to walk, another dead.”

“Dead?” The words fell before you could stop yourself. She didn’t answer.

“Please,” Heisenberg leaned back once more, his hand moving to the interior of his jacket, “the dumb thing practically laid down when she was attacked by a lycan.” His fingers fumbled around the darkened paper of a cigar. Yellow, blonde streaks flashed upon his face as the distinguishable clink of a metal lighter was flicked. “I wouldn’t call that too capable.”

“My friend pushed me.” You argued, once again mentally reeling for the outburst.

Heisenberg let out a huff of smoke, intentionally blowing it in the tall woman’s direction, “sounds like a piss poor friend.”

“Enough.” Miranda had taken to her spot at the front near the alter once more. “The girl shall go to Alcina.”

A wicked smile crossed the tall woman’s face. “Thank you, Mother Miranda. It is so good to have you back.”

“Where are you from?” One of the girls ushered you through the depths of the castle. She wore a simple gown with stitches at the bottom, holding together the frail fabric that looked to be decades old.

“America.”

The girl cocked her head to the side like a newborn. “I don’t know of that town.”

Upon arrival you were escorted down to what was described as the maids’ chambers. In a small stone room, you were assigned a cot, given a chest, and told to change into uniform. Your arm ached and spasmed as you lifted the lid of the trunk open. Somewhere between being shot by the villagers and being transported to Castle Dimitrescu, the bullet was removed from your shoulder and replaced with gauze that limited the mobility of your arm. The distinct oily feeling of grease caused friction between the bandages and your clothes; the ache of alcohol still stung, causing a sore numbness.

The Lady insisted all maids conform to the strict code of dress. Long, unflattering dresses, short heels, and sometimes a headscarf if hair wasn’t pulled tautly into a bun at the base of one’s neck were a few things to name the least. You always wore the headscarf, which was a thin piece of grey lace that attached at the peak of your hairline, cascading over your shoulders to land at waist-length.

The rest of the day passed slowly. You learned the ins and outs of the castle, became acquainted with the sparse staff that only consisted of women, and met Alcina’s daughters from a distance. The next two weeks passed the same way.

Wake up, clean the castle, serve Lady and her daughters, go to bed. That was your routine. Though, the sounds that seeped from the halls at night prompted unwavering curiosity. Heisenberg had mentioned the ill-fated maids that had the luxury of serving the Dimitrescu women back in that church. Nothing at this point had you doubting that was the case. But you assured yourself daily that you would not accept the castle’s fate; you would get out of here one way or another.

You had only been at the mercy of Lady Dimitrescu once to this day. A small spat broke out between maids and the arrival of the head of house had the women squealing lies of how you were the one to start it.

“She stole our rations!” The girl with the wide nose accused her chubby finger outstretched in your direction.

“I didn’t steal anything, you dirty fucking liar.”

“She did. We were squabbling over how she should be punished.” The other girl replied, tucking a shaking hand behind her back as she straightened her poor posture.

“A thief,” Alcina regarded you, “that’s a shame.” Knives skid across the thin skin of your forearm. “Another outburst like this and there will be harsher consequences.” Red stained her tongue as she ran the claw through her cherry-red lips.

As she sauntered down the hall and out of sight, you uncurled your arm from your chest, wincing at the large crimson stain it left on your dress.

“Fresh face.” The words ricocheted off the wall in front of you. Footsteps steadfastly approached from behind. He walked with an effortless swagger, legs slightly bowed with each lyrical step. You’d gone for the quiet route after the situation, finding that silence often pleased those that ruled over the castle. “Here I was thinkin’ it would take you a little longer to lose that fight.” He stepped closer; the unmissable smell of tobacco seeped from his lips. “Looks like I was wrong.”

Instead of words, you held his gaze through unimpressed eyes. Hues of yellows, greys, and greens met yours from beneath his rounded glasses. You could see more of him from here. A large scar ran from the right of his face to the left, the lifted skin healing over leaving memories of whatever had happened. In fact, the majority of his face was plagued with scars. One ran from the bottom of his lip down to his chin, disappearing beneath the stubble of his beard. You wondered if his disdain toward Alcina was founded by those wretched claws of hers. His hair was wirey with shades of brown and peppered grey streaking through the ends. Quite honestly, he was an attractive man.

“I’ve got a name, you know?”

“I don’t think I cared to ask.”

“Then I suppose you aren’t deserving of one either.”

“Well,” he tapped at your chest with a gloved finger, “I think you’ve got a little spunk left in you, sweetheart.”

“Call me Y/n.”

“No last name?” He deadpanned.

“L/n.”

He nodded, but you felt as though your words had passed through him like a ghost.

“Karl.” He gave a lazy bow, tilting the rim of his hat. “But I think you probably already knew that.”

“Gossip and information don’t come easily from the maids here. Sorry,” you pressed your lips together, “I didn’t know.”

Karl gave a shrug.

“Do you know what happened to my friend?” The thought had been playing on your mind for the past few weeks.

He raised an inquisitive brow and turned his head to peer out the shaded window. “The so-called friend that left you to become lycan chow?” A hearty tut left his chest. “I think she’s assimilated into the town.”

“Dumb bitch.” You breathed.

“There’s that spark.” He stood tall with an artificial sense of pride. It had been a long time since somebody in the village was willing to use such crude language in front of any of the Lords, let alone Miranda. It almost astonished him that they’d let you live after the killing of Adelina’s brother. The gun misfired; it wasn’t really your fault.

Another week of growing suspicions and two newly missing maids, you finally attempted to seek out the dungeons that everyone spoke of but warned to stray from. You had to know what was going on here.

“Lost?” Heisenberg’s voice appeared at your right side. His chin almost rested upon your shoulder; the stubble of his beard scratched at your neck. “This isn’t a place I’d get lost in if I were you. In fact, it’s not even a place you should be exploring.”

“Are you going to run to Alcina if I do?” You didn’t face him, why would you? The hallway was cramped, restricting of any sort of movement other than in the direction you were going.

“Me?” He leaned backward to stand at full height. Your body cursed silently, wishing nothing more than to have him close again. How he wasn’t hitting his head on the rafter just inches above floored you. “I hate that bitch. You do what you want, but I won’t bail you out when you get caught.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being caught then.” You descended the metal ladder, only looking upward for a moment to catch a glimpse of Heisenberg leaning over the opening. An eerie smile was plastered on his lips, it was almost smug.

The dungeons were as you imagined. Cold water trickled down some of the walls, likely due to cracks in the castle’s foundation accompanied by the ever melting of the outside snow. It smelled of mothballs and garlic, something musty was clinging to the air. You noted a few turns here and there, attempting to memorize the path you had taken in case you needed to make a swift escape. What didn’t help was the skid of your maid’s clothes along the rigid floor.

Muffled cries put you further onto the edge. The narrow hall gave way to a large room filled with arched stonework. Metal bars shot from floor to ceiling, hinges creaked as the sound of hands banging against them filled your eardrums. You didn’t want to go further, scared of any repercussions should any of the jailed women recognize and rat you out.

Turning to head to the ladder, you collided with a chest. “Leaving so soon?” Heisenberg again.

“Shh!” You slapped at his chest with a closed fist, only realizing what you had done when the action was completed. He looked rightfully amused. Everything that you had learned of these “Lords” up to now told you to act less casually with him, to put on an air of respect at the very least. But there was something surprisingly human about him. Something that told you it was okay despite it potentially not being so. At this point, you were only prolonging the inevitable.

“What?” He started, swiftly being cut off by approaching footsteps. Firm hands grasped at your arms, pulling your face forward into his chest. “Open your mouth and I’ll feed you to whatever’s coming.” He said through his teeth, trapping your arms between your two bodies.

The room grew dim, the wall behind your back became close even though you had not moved at all. Heisenberg’s grip was strong on your forearms, causing you to inaudibly hiss as his thumb dug into the slash Alcina had left weeks prior. The footsteps were accompanied by the soft cries of a woman, gasping pleas of being let go falling silent on the ears of her assailant. A minute passed; the dungeon fell soundless.

“You can breathe now.” His lips lingered close to your ear, once again sending a rush of chills crawling down your skin. He knew what he was doing.

“I’ve been breathing.” You breathily retorted sounding as if you had just run a marathon.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

The wall behind you gave way, moving on its own. You turned; the materials that had been pressed to your back laid themselves on the ground. Heisenberg’s smile was unmissable. “Go ahead.” His voice was gravely, gruff, a slight melancholy dismay underlying. Heisenberg desired for you to implore what just happened, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You refused to see him as anything but normal, for if you did give in to the village’s mental games, you’d likely find yourself going mad. He was a man, you told yourself, nothing more.

“I thought you weren’t going to bail me out?”

“I wasn’t.” He tightened his grip on your arms. “But I figured it’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face so soon.”

“I, I’m sure you say that to all the girls here.” You couldn’t hold his gaze at this distance. Perhaps Adelina was right, you were rather frumpy and unexperienced.

A huff came as he exhaled, a thoughtful tug of his lips upward accompanied it. He didn’t answer, a reoccurring event with those who inhabited this town.

Heisenberg had been keeping his trips to and from the castle a secret. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he felt so inclined to bother with the outsider woman who appeared in the village one fateful evening. Perhaps he was growing bored of his daily routine with no results to show. Maybe he was enticed by the well of knowledge you held of the outside world. Maybe it was something else, something human. The Lord’s weren’t allowed to stray far from the village. The other three lived delightfully oblivious, completely okay with never exploring the unknown. Heisenberg, on the other hand, was not. Your friend, Jess as he recalled you calling her, was far from interesting to him. It didn’t take a genius to tell how low her I.Q. had to be. She conformed easily to the village and by all accounts had been down talking you to the others she met. She quickly fell into the same brainwashed daze of worship.

It had been another turbulent week of utter chaos around every corner. Nobody knew of your adventure into the depths of Castle Dimitrescu and you had no intentions of spreading any gossip among the maids. They all seemed to have it out for you anyway. You were the “outsider,” as one described it. It was so blatantly evident to them that you were not going to conform to their ways. And that disturbed them.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t your fair share of punishment to this point. In actuality, you had received a significantly greater amount of beratements and surface wounds from Alcina and her daughters. You thought to Heisenberg often, continually wondering how your life would differ had Miranda bestowed you upon him. He was irresistibly charming in his own twisted sense. Every word that escaped his mouth heavily contradicted his actions. You received a good number of swats to the hand stemming from woeful daydreaming of the man you hardly knew.

He could be dangerous, you’d tell yourself before slipping into yet another sequence of fervent and unrelenting thoughts stemming from the mysterious man. He was a Lord, one placed in a top position according to the village’s hierarchy. You just weren’t sure why.

There had been countless times the man had sauntered into the castle, “accidentally” run into you, and held brief conversation.

The other maids were assholes. Though you had concluded this swiftly upon entering the castle, their recent actions only solidified your feelings.

It had been only a day since Heisenberg’s last visit. He strolled into the castle, easing his way past the maids as they hurriedly passed by. They paid him no mind. The evening sun had begun to set in the sky. Lady Dimitrescu had gone out for the night, instructing her girls to hold down the castle while she was away. The three of them had descended into the dungeons, not to be seen again until morning. This left the halls free and roamable for the savvy Lord.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Your voice caught his attention. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Marybeth.”

Shrill voices argued back and forth behind the kitchen doors. The sound of muffled giggles fell on his ears; it was an unusual sound within the castle walls. The girls must be relaxed knowing they’re safe from punishment tonight. At least, that’s what they thought.

In a second, the hinges of the door burst off, sending the heavy frame crashing down to the tiled floor. Shrieks came quickly and died on their lips as soon as the girls realized who was there.

“Lord Heisenberg.” One woman bowed her head, concealing something within her hands as she placed them in her lap, clasped tightly together. “Lady Dimitrescu has left for the evening.”

“I know.” His brow raised at the scene set before him. You stood to the rear of the kitchen, clearly irate at something the woman who regarded him had done. Five other women were huddled with the one who spoke, following her lead and averting their gazes. No aroma of cuisine drifted from the empty cauldron, only the stale scent of curing meats clung to the air.

“What’s going on in here?” He looked directly at you from beneath the lid of his hat.

“We were cleaning the kitchen.” The maid spoke through shaking breaths.

After a pensive moment, he waved his hand. “You’re dismissed. Except,” he held his hand at your chest as you attempted to pass, “you.”

The girls stumbled over the door, making quick work of getting back to their quarters and away from the Lord. You listened as the audience of feet trampled away. None of the girls here knew how to walk in heels causing for a rather elephant-like clomping of shoes wherever they went.

“What really happened?”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly, but color me curious.”

“Don’t get them in trouble.” You demanded through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”

He chortled. “You seem more afraid of them than you are of me.”

“You’ve not given me a reason to be scared.”

Your back pressed to the wall, a glass chalice fell, shattering against the floor. The lapels of his jacket and dog tags pushed to your chest were still cold from the frosted night air. “Do I need to give you a reason?”

“I just,” embarrassment rose in your cheeks, “would you stop doing this?” There was no budging the man. His strength far outweighed yours, easily acting as if your pushing against his chest was nothing but a soft breeze.

“Doing what?” A smirk grew on his lips. God, he loved this.

“This!” Your clenched fist banged on his chest, not rattling him in the slightest. Droplets of claret liquid ran from your palm to your elbow. “Dammit, Karl. Move.”

The use of his first name was new. A solid hand closed around your wrist, bringing it up to eye level. He tilted back, adjusting his vision. The raise of his brow signaled that he wanted you to open your hand. Complying, you cringed as the reddened skin screamed for relief.

“They did this?”

“It’s no different from the other injuries I’ve gotten here.”

“It’s deep.” He reached into the pocket of his trench coat. “Don’t let anyone know you’ve got this.” A silver tin slipped from his hand to yours, you pried at its ridges with your nail.

Heisenberg disappeared after that, taking off with a dramatic throw of the castle doors as he disappeared into the dense forest. He had given you a tin of salve and a bandage.

“Lady Dimitrescu has requested your presence.”

The Fugitive: Finding Home Part 3 - Foreign Thoughts

I'm so excited for where this fic is going...

Feedback is always appreciated

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@ambiguous-g @ren-ni @metaphorical-love-for-a-car @lgbtomatoes

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #heisenberg #re8 #re8 heisenberg #Resident Evil Village #resident evil heisenberg #lord heisenberg #resident evil 8 #re8 imagines

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Shiny New Toy

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Military Officer Matsukawa x Prisoner of War Reader AU, Yandere, Non-Con/Rape, Bondage, Sex Toys, Degradation, Overstimulation, Objectification, Humiliation, Body Writing, Mentioned/Implied Non-Con Branding, Knife Marking, Tattooing

Summary: Most people would consider having a white Christmas a stroke of good luck, but you’re about to find out just how untrue that is.

Author’s Note: This fic is for the Lovesick Server’s December collab and the theme is Stormy Nights~ Be sure to check out the amazing work by other members here.

When most people dream of a white Christmas, they think about soft fluffy snow you can easily shape into snowmen, they think about fluttering snowflakes they can gaze at as they sit inside a cozy home surrounded by their family.

Not you.

When you dream of a white Christmas, you pray for a thunderous snowstorm, you pray for harsh winds, frigid temperatures, you pray for anything severe enough to serve as a distraction, to keep the demons and monsters at bay.

And it takes every ounce of self-control not to accidentally betray how relieved and thankful you are as your guards for the day are sloppy enough to leave you uncuffed, hastily throwing down enough food to last you a few days in their rush to return to the safety and warmth of their barracks, unwilling to venture out more than necessary to feed you multiple times a day during the blizzard outside.

They still have enough sense to lock the cell door behind them as they scurry back to the merry celebrations, too afraid to deal with the wrath of their superior officers. And you can’t blame them, not when Oikawa’s sadistic streak and Iwaizumi’s untempered rage are infamous throughout the nations, not when you’ve seen firsthand just how cruel the Seijoh Four can be.

Painful memories of fire, screams, and blood flood your mind and you grit your teeth as you push them aside. There would be time for grief and mourning later. But for now, you need to escape first.

You examine the lock in front of you, the one thing separating you from freedom. It’s not a bad piece of work. Sturdy, strong, and reliable. But it’s nowhere near the craftsmanship and skill you’re used to. After all, when you come from Date Tech, the nation famous for its Iron Walls, its ironwork, its ability to manipulate all types of metal to do or be whatever the heart desires, nothing compares. And it’s laughably easy to make said lock useless as you quietly creep outside for the first time in months.

It’s quiet. Not a soul is in sight and you slow your breathing and thoughts down as you concentrate. What’s the next step? Which direction should you go? What’s the overall plan?

For once you’re thankful for how the guards they’ve been sending could care less about your presence, treating you nothing more than an object as they blatantly ignore you and carry on conversation as if you’re not there. You know that despite the fact that most of Miyagi has been conquered, three nations still remain in an endless war against each other.

Karasuno. Shiratorizawa. Aoba Johsai.

It’s just your luck that you’d ended up a prisoner of war by the worst of the three, humiliated and kept alive as a trophy and symbol of what they had accomplished. At least if Date Tech had been conquered by Shiratorizawa you’d be dead within seconds once Ushijima had deemed you unworthy and far too weak to live up the to high standards of his warriors.

But Karasuno...you don’t know much about the crow nation, a nation that had kept a low profile for as long as you could remember, only to recently rear its head and prove that they’ve kept up with the best of the best despite their long isolation. But you do remember the kind faces of their high ranking officers when they had gotten into a conflict with Date Tech long ago, how surprisingly amicable the two sides were as Date Tech admitted defeat, preparing for the worst, only to be surprised as Karasuno had peacefully left after having your nation promise an alliance with them, leaving your home relatively in one piece, letting your authorities remain in power, allowing your people to live normally.

It’s decided then. The game plan is to escape to Karasuno and hope that Daichi Sawamura is as just and kind as you remember.

Determined, you carefully listen and check your surroundings, grateful for the added coverage the snowstorm provides, relieved when you hear the distant drunken shouts and celebrations as the soldiers celebrate the joyous holiday, tucked away in the mess hall quite a distance from you. And you brace yourself as the wind howls around you, as the icy snow stings your bare feet and legs, soaking through your tattered clothing. But like hell you’re going to let something as silly as frostbite stop you and you darkly think that dying from hypothermia would be a preferable way to leave this world than by the hands of a Seijoh officer.

Escape is tantalizingly close and you forget about the way your body feels numb from the bitter cold, forget about how your teeth chatter and your body shivers when you see the nearing enclosure, so focused on the exit that you don’t notice the solitary tall figure casually leaning against a wall nearby, curiously watching your stumbling weary body make its way towards the opening, amusement in his eyes when you pass him, completely unaware of his presence as your eyes sparkle from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

Matsukawa doesn’t care much for Christmas. Well to be fair, he doesn’t care much about holidays or celebrating in general, finding the rowdy atmosphere headache inducing, the raucous volume irritating, the crowds of people bothersome. But Oikawa and Hanamaki love their social events and it boosts squad morale, so needless to say of course there is an obnoxious holiday party raging on, with Iwaizumi playing babysitter. And Matsukawa had slipped out as soon as he could, finding strange comfort in the tumultuous weather outside, unfazed by the way snow slashed across his face as he walked and walked until only the sounds of wind and the night accompanied him.

So imagine his surprise when their adorable little prisoner shows up in the midst of the blizzard like a ghostly apparition, struggling through the elements in a desperate attempt to escape. Honestly he doesn’t know why you’ve been kept in the cell for so long and he supposes you have Iwaizumi to thank for Oikawa not sinking his teeth and claws into you already, the green eyed general having a softer heart than most would assume knowing his reputation. But your luck has run out and not even Iwaizumi can save you from punishment and Matsukawa’s penchant for ruining pretty things.

Suddenly Christmas doesn’t seem so bothersome after all as Matsukawa’s long legs swiftly carry him to you, his arm quickly wrapping around your neck from behind and squeezing until your nutrient deprived and half frozen body collapses in his arms.

You groan when you come back to your senses, sinking into the soft surface you’re laying on.

Wait. Soft surface?

Your eyes shoot open and your arms instinctively move to help you sit up, only for you to falter as something keeps your arms bound behind your back and you flail and struggle to move your tied up body as you gauge your surroundings, feeling nauseous when you recognize the turquoise and white uniform jacket hung up by the door, staring in disbelief and humiliation when you finally look down at yourself, the glowing Christmas lights adorning and highlighting your body as they weave around your breasts and between your legs. And you can only assume that’s what you feel wrapped around your arms, keeping them immobile behind your back as your naked body fights against its restraints on the bed you’ve been placed on.

But you scream, all thoughts of escape zapped out of you when two devices come to life inside of you and you sob in shame and panic as both your lower holes are assaulted by the vibrators inside of them, the tangle of lights looped between your legs keeping the toys firmly shoved inside of you despite the way you try to push them out of you.

Matsukawa doesn’t understand the appeal of Christmas lights or decorations nor does he understand Oikawa’s fascination of sex toys and overwhelming his play things with plastic, rubber, and metal, preferring the surge of pride that courses through him when he wrecks his sluts with his body alone. But as he watches you writhe in front of him, your eyes glistening with hopeless tears, your nipples perky and erect, your moans and whimpers filling the room as he sits back and relaxes, his large hand slowly palming his hardening cock that he untucks out of his trousers, he admits that maybe he had been too quick to judge, grateful he hadn’t immediately dumped the box of gag gifts his brunette captain had gifted him bright and early this Christmas morning.

“I know you don’t like toys, Mattsun. But you should test these out on the new batch of prisoners we get from the next raid!”

You aren’t a new prisoner, but he’s sure Oikawa wouldn’t mind that he was using them on you. If anything, the brunette would probably be jealous that he’d claimed you first.

Time ceases to exist as Matsukawa watches you, fingers idly tapping away on buttons and a smirk spreading across his face at how receptive you are to the setting changes, how little he has to do to have your body contorting and your voice wantonly wailing as orgasm after orgasm is ripped from you. But he grows tired of watching from afar after he forces you to break apart countless times and he draws near, stroking his now fully erect cock as he mockingly whistles at how you’ve soaked the bed sheets near your cunt and drenched the lights shoved against your folds, laughing at how your back arches and your eyes roll back when he roughly pinches and twists your nipples.

It’s like you were made to be played with. And suddenly Matsukawa can’t get his hands on his new toy fast enough, unwinding the soaked string of lights from your lower half and bending your legs before retying the lower strands of lights so that they bind your calves to your thighs, enjoying the view as the vibrator in your pussy easily slips out from your loosened sopping wet hole while he teasingly pulls and shoves back in the large vibrating plug he keeps nestled inside of your ass.

You really are just like a sex toy or a fuck doll, other than that scowl on your face and the raging hate and disgust in your eyes. But the fierce look only stirs deeper lust and anticipation in the officer as he eagerly awaits the moment you completely break because of him, large hands easily hauling your bound body by the waist and forcing you to straddle his lap as he reclines against his headboard, smiling at how rage turns to a gorgeous look of fear when you feel the tip of his cock brush against your glistening entrance.

It really is admirable how you hopelessly fight against him, against gravity as his hands guide you down and down, despair, pain, and maybe something on the border of pleasure overtaking you as you sink on an enemy’s shaft seemingly forever, the girth alone already stretching you far more than the vibrator had. But it’s the length that tears you apart and Matsukawa is painstakingly meticulous about making sure you swallow him at an agonizingly slow pace, making sure you have no choice but to feel every bit of him that enters you, that drags against your walls, further and further until you swear he’s in your cervix, in your stomach.

You hate how sensitive his earlier torment has made you, how your pleasure addicted body is already chasing after another orgasm, your pussy fluttering in excitement around the new object filling it, your mouth drooling and unable to close as your mind goes blank from the sensation of being double stuffed again. And you sob in relief when you finally bottom out before you can humiliate yourself by cumming yet again, tensing as you wait for your captor to ruthlessly fuck you right away.

But nothing happens and you stare in astonishment as Matsukawa merely reaches over to his nightstand to pick up a book, flipping through pages as you sit in his lap.

“Be a good cock warmer and just stay still and look pretty, okay?”

Humiliation courses through you at his words, but you obey. Or at least you try your best to. But he’s set you up for failure as the hand not holding his reading material finds its way between your legs, calloused fingertips gently and slowly rubbing against your clit in a way that has your body heating up, has your hips unconsciously grinding as they chase the building inferno inside of you until you’re desperately humping him like a bitch in heat in search of relief. And Matsukawa irritatedly sighs.

“Aren’t fuck dolls supposed to just stay still and be quiet? If you want to cum that badly and distract me, at least entertain me.”

You don’t even have the presence of mind to pay him any attention as you keep on bouncing as much as you can with your limited movement, completely ignorant of how he tosses his book to the side and rummages through the opened gift box besides him, a pleased hum escaping him when he pulls out two jingling objects.

But you do notice the piercing pain from both your nipples as incredible pressure is applied to them and you scream as Matsukawa adjusts the nipple clamps, whimpering when he smacks your breasts and the bells attached to the devices loudly ring. Satisfied with your new decorations, once again he wraps his large hands around your waist and you wail as you’re easily lifted and slammed back down, face burning with shame and embarrassment when you realize you’re being fucked to the rhythm of Jingle Bells, the bells lewdly swinging from your sensitive buds only emphasizing your pathetic position with every shrill chime.

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. You shouldn’t be moaning like a whore. You shouldn’t be on the verge of yet another mind blowing orgasm. And you clench your eyes shut as you try to remember your home, remember your family, remember your friends, anything to distract you from the present. But Matsukawa has other plans for you and pleasure and pain strike you down like a bolt of lightning when he rips the clamps off of you and you let out an animalistic sound of ecstasy as you experience your most intense orgasm yet, one that has you twitching and mindless, slumping against the broad body in front of you in post-coital bliss and exhaustion.

But you weakly cry out when large hands hold you still as strong hips thrust up hard into you.

“Your performance was so good that now I’m in the mood.”

All your pride goes down the drain as you beg and plead for him to let you rest, to stop, making a mess of his shirt and neck as your tears and snot smear across skin and fabric as you exhaustedly bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, crying even harder when fingers trace slow patterns on one ass cheek before slapping you harshly to shut up your whining.

“A toy’s job is to make its owner feel good. Plus, I’m curious just how durable you are. Clearly if you’re conscious enough to annoy me with all your sniveling, then you’re in good enough shape for me to use some more.”

You can only brokenly cry as he rails you from below, your torso still propped against him, face still buried in his shoulder, as he manhandles your body, forcefully slamming you down with every thrust, making sure you’re completely filled and unable to escape the delirious fullness and stimulation. And you can’t even breathe, unable to think of anything except for the aching overwhelming feeling bubbling inside of you, threatening to consume you as you’re brought to new highs over and over again.

But your weakened body can only take so much and your squeals trail off into silence, darkness encroaching on your consciousness as your body shuts down from overexertion. It’s too much and you gladly and wearily welcome slumber, can practically taste it on your tongue as a part of you shatters deep inside when you vaguely register the hot thick spurts filling your insides as Matsukawa slams balls deep inside of you one final time.

Your heavy eyelids flutter shut and you can feel your breathing begin to even out, but panic forces you to stay awake and alert when a low teasing voice murmurs into your ear.

“You lasted longer than I thought, but I guess you’re officially out of batteries now. Don’t worry. I’ll charge you right back up.”

You don’t know what he has planned for you, but it can’t be anything good and despite how fatigued you are, you thrash and wiggle, doing everything you can to avoid the inevitable despite your still bound position. But it’s useless and you feel so small, so vulnerable as you’re shoved face down in the corner of his room, twisting just enough to see Matsukawa holding the vibrator that had been inside of you earlier and plugging it to an outlet in the wall. And your heart plummets when he gives you a lazy grin as he abruptly shoves the toy inside of you once more.

“Can’t have it running out of batteries while it keeps you loose and wet for me.”

You kick and scream as he adjusts the lights wrapped around your legs once again, only pausing as he rains down hard and heavy hits to your ass, and if you felt vulnerable before, you feel absolutely pathetic now with a strand of lights keeping both the vibrator and plug firmly inside of you once again and your binds adjusted until you’re in a hog-tie position. But you don’t have time to dwell too much on it, not when both vibrator and plug are suddenly set at their highest settings and you shriek, tears streaming down your face from the onslaught of sensations in your already spent body.

And you can only feel, feel, and feel, brain dead and numb to anything else happening around you. Even when Matsukawa crouches in front of you, you just dumbly stare at him as drool trickles from your mouth and lewd moans spill from your lips.

But even in your depraved state, the last dregs of your pride shout at you to do something, anything, as the officer holds a pair of socks and black briefs in front of your face.

“As beautiful as you sound, I can’t have the entire unit complaining about how loud my little doll is. And toys don’t need to talk or see anyway, so I’m going to wrap you back up until I’m ready to use you again, okay?”

It’s a rhetorical question and before you can even think of retorting, the socks are brutally shoved into your mouth and you gag and choke as long fingers cruelly push and push, practically deep-throating you with the thick fabric, more hot tears cascading down your face as he removes his now saliva coated digits and wipes them clean on your face.

But as the elastic band of his briefs are pulled over your head and snapped into place right beneath your eyes, rendering your eyesight useless, making the buzzing torment in your lower regions even more prominent, you go completely limp save for the uncontrollable tremors of pleasure, any fight you had in you shattered into a million pieces as you fully register what has happened and what you have been reduced to.

And Matsukawa takes a moment to appreciate how broken you are already, barely looking human with the glow of the Christmas lights surrounding you and your facial features hidden for the most part by his briefs, looking every bit like a depraved whore, like human furniture, like a lewd object to be used by anyone, anytime.

But Matsukawa has never been good at sharing his belongings and he plucks a permanent marker from his desk, scribbling dark unmistakable lines across both your ass cheeks, smirking down at his new mark of ownership.

Issei’s Toy

The words look good on you. His name looks good on you.

Maybe if you survive his treatment long enough, he’d get it permanently tattooed into your skin. Maybe he’d carve it into your skin. Maybe he’d burn it into your skin…

The possibilities are endless, but for now, he has an appearance to make, sighing tiredly at the responsibilities he has as a senior officer. Curse Oikawa and his insistence that all of the Seijoh Four had to at least show face at the beginning and end of the holiday party. And he rolls his eyes as he straightens out his uniform and throws on his jacket.

But before he departs, he spares you one more glance, mood instantly lighting up when he sees your wrecked pitiful form laying on his ground like a forgotten toy.

At least something good came out of this dreadful day, he thinks, as he quietly hums Jingle Bells all the way down to the mess hall.

#haikyuu smut #matsukawa x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere matsukawa #yandere matsukawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #tw: noncon #tw: rape

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tra-sh · 3 years

Text

Love’s Labors pt 3

Part three to my Ivar Ragnarson x reader series! Part four is here!

@youbloodymadgenius @red-roses-are-gonna-shine @angelofmysmalldeath

The library of King Ecbert's castle was, unsurprisingly, empty. Most of the inhabitants were either being trained for battle or standing guard around the Kings as they met. So, you found it to be the perfect hiding place when you felt the need to escape your tutor for the day. The chamber was in a calm and almost reflective state as if you were the first one to grace its halls in months. You gathered a small pile of books and scrolls that seemed the most interesting and made yourself a small nest on the ledge of a tall window. You'd purposefully tucked yourself away in the back of the library in the case that someone came looking for you. Though not many had caught onto your tricks, you knew Judith was smart and would most likely search for you here if she discovered you went missing.

You sift through your pile, settling for a written book on medicinal plants. At least this one was illustrated.

You settle into your spot as comfortably as you can and immerse yourself in reading. Though you were much more content to wander around the castle and cause mischief, you knew your father was especially on edge today. You'd overheard the maids gossiping about King Aelle's mistrust of Ragnar and knew if he caught you in your usual antics, you would be banished from seeing Judith and Alfred for the next month.

The warm breeze coming from the window coupled with the book in your hands was enough to lull you to sleep, and you surely would have, were it not for the figure leaning against the dimly lit bookshelf across from you. You sit upright, blinking to let your eyes adjust. "Ivar?" You ask quietly. "What are you doing here?"

Ivar shuffles forward with the help of his crutches, into the sunlight where you could see him better. "Same as you, I suppose. Hiding," he says with an amused tone. You laugh, closing your book and scooting forward. "How did you know I was here?" Ivar shrugs, plopping down at a small wooden table across from you. "Lucky guess."

You rest your chin on your palm and observe the prince as he sets a book of his own on the wooden table. "I'm not sure why I am surprised to find you can read," you mock gently, biting your lip in anticipation of his response. Would he have a temper with you, as the rumors say?

Though Ivar's jaw sets and he throws a glare in your direction, he says nothing. You wonder for a moment if you've ruined the mood, and you press again. "I didn't mean anything by it. People talk, you know," you add. "People may talk, but it is up to you to listen," Ivar replies. You let out a small chuckle and look away. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid I haven't a response to that," you say quietly.

Ivar looks back to you with a brow raised. "You, not having a remark? I think I'm surprised." A loud laugh rips from your throat before you can stop it, and you lean back against the stone window frame behind you. "It does not happen often, so I cannot advise you to get used to it, Viking." Ivar's face betrays his amusement as he turns back to the book before him. "I imagine, Saxon, there are many things about you I will not get used to," he says quietly. You bite your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from smiling, but to no avail. The Viking prince does something to you that you have never experienced before, and it was thrilling.

You shuffle back into your spot, picking up your forgotten book. You flip through the pages absentmindedly and steal little glances here and there at the boy beside you. You allow your mind to wander and imagine what it would feel like to be courted by someone so fierce. Ivar was a mystery to you, so much like his father. When you'd heard of their arrival, you had expected two beastly men who did not speak a lick of English nor have any common decency. Admittedly, you were almost disappointed at how pleasantly normal they were. Perhaps your dad's stories of the Northmen were just that-- stories. Figures, you shouldn't have listened to the paranoid old man.

You glance over once more only to catch Ivar staring at you. You offer him a smile and lift your head. "Yes?" You ask, smug that you caught him looking. If Ivar notices the tone in your voice, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he asks, "You and Alfred. Are you really betrothed?" Your face falls at the topic, and you turn your attention out the window and to the courtyard below. "We are," you start slowly. "It is more so in name. My father wants me out and tamed as soon as possible, and King Ecbert was looking for a queen for his Alfred. It was a supposed perfect match," you mutter. Ivar listens carefully, his eyes scanning over the words before him. "When would you marry?" He wondered. You sigh and slump down further against the wall. "Most likely when Alfred is crowned King. If my father had his way, I'm sure it would be far sooner." Ivar seems to consider your words for a moment. You lull your head to the side, eyeing the young man. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugs, his eyes not leaving the page. "Curious about Saxon affairs," he offers lamely. You sit upright and frown. "Is that all?" You wonder quietly. This time, it's Ivar who turns to you with a smug face. "Is that all you want it to be?"

A heavy silence blankets the library as the two of you stare at one another. Was there another reason? What were you hoping for? For Ivar to live up to the Viking rumors and kidnap you, hauling you off to some unknown land?

You're the first to break eye contact as you lean back into the wall. "I suppose so," you say softly.

You hear the creaking of wood and a shuffling sound, followed by the repeating tapping of Ivar's crutches meeting the stone floor. You turn your head in time to see Ivar towering over you, looking down to meet your gaze. "For someone who causes such trouble," Ivar begins, reaching out to grab a stray piece of your hair. "You are a terrible liar, princess." Your face feels hot and you splutter incoherently while Ivar chuckles. "I am not lying!" Your voice betrays you, rising above your normal pitch. Ivar gives you a knowing grin and you snap your mouth shut. His eyes flit back and forth from your own as if searching for something. "I am leaving tomorrow. Will you really not tell me the truth before I go?" Ivar asks finally. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare up at him. Does he leave tomorrow? But what about Ragnar? Your face must have betrayed your sorrow because Ivar's gaze softens as he looks at you. "What if I ask nicely?" He adds.

You can't help laughing at this and shake your head. "It wouldn't suit you, Ivar."

He stares at you and it brings back that strange feeling in the pit of your stomach that only he seems to cause. He reaches a hand out and grips your jaw experimentally as if examining you. He does not hold your chin as a lover would, but more like a farmer observing livestock. It sends a strange thrill up your spine, to be so fiercely scrutinized by someone like him. Something dark and mischievous flashes in his eyes as he looks at you. "Give me permission, princess," Ivar says in a low voice. It's so quiet that you almost don't register that he spoke. You swallow as your eyes search his. "For what?" Your response is barely above a whisper, you know your voice would betray you if you spoke up. You don't need his response. You're not so oblivious to what he wants, but the tumultuous side of you wanted him to say it out loud. To hear him say he desired you, in the same way you did him.

But Ivar is wise to your tricks and doesn't speak. His grip on your face lightens, and for a moment you're disappointed in thinking he's walking away. Suddenly, his thumb hooks your chin and drags you towards him, earning a small squeal of surprise from you. His mouth is hot over yours as he kisses you and it sends small tingles throughout your body. Your hands come up to grab fistfuls of his shirt, trying to pull him flush against you. One of his hands tangles in your hair, gripping and pushing you closer. You feel his free hand slide under your dress and grab your thigh, hooking your knee and dragging you forward so he's nestled between your thighs.

Your head spins as Ivar kisses you with such a passion as if this was the first and last time you would see each other. The thought bothered you, and you found yourself whining into the kiss. This seems to spur him on as Ivar lets out a low growl, nipping your bottom lip with his sharp teeth. Then he breaks away, ending the kiss just as quickly as it began. You lean after him lamely, mourning the sudden loss of his warmth. Ivar steps back and looks at you with such a savage look of pride on his face that you feel something curl in your stomach. "Until next time, princess."

His fingers trail across the frame of your face one last time before he drops his hand and starts to leave. "You would leave me here like this?" Your voice trembles as your eyes sting. He can't just leave you here like this, right? Ivar spares one last glance over his shoulder and rakes his eyes up and down your figure. "When I come back, you will not have to worry anymore."

And just like that, he leaves you sitting in the library alone as the sun sets behind you.

#ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar from vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivarxreader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar romance #no beta we die like men

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

RESPECT ✩ namgi

✩ as part of @btswritingcafe‘s mots: 7 collab ✩

✩ pairing: king namjoon x witch reader x king yoongi

✩ genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, angst, smut, fluff, a sprinkle of crack

✩ summary: in a land where the only openly acceptable magic is intrinsic soulmate bonds, what is a lowly witch to do when she is called upon by not just one king but two?

✩ word count: 7.1k

✩ warnings: 18+, cursing, magic, societal oppression, mention of snakes, reader has hella trust issues, begging, general cheesy fluff, smut [dom!reader, dom!namjoon, switch!yoongi, threesome (duh), throne sex (yuh), yoongi gets taken to paris and then the reader gets double teamed (aka double penetration)]

✩ beta’d by: the MAGNIFICENT phia @meowxyoong

✩ banner by: the ILLUSTRIOUS danica @dee-ehn

Magic danced at your fingertips as you summoned ingredients from the shelves behind you. You had been brewing this potion for hours - a tedious and tumultuous process that always accompanied the crafting of wolfsbane. It was a badly kept secret that you supplied the temporary suppressant along with a variety of other magical remedies, spells, and an occasional curse or two.

There were - of course - limits on what you would provide. You did not take too kindly to townspeople that asked for dark spells or soulmate switches. Your fellow magical and supernatural folk in the kingdom of Meridian were ostracized enough as it was by the majority of the wealthier classes. To add on to your bad reputation would be a foolish endeavor.

Magic - it seemed - was a poor man’s trade. Why would the rich deign to ask for help from lowly witches and warlocks when they had access to the best doctors, the furthest overseas markets, and the fattest bank accounts? The occasional upper class individual would stray from the norm and enter your shop, but that was a rarity. And thank god it was.

The rich and the royals often feared what they did not understand – whether it be foreign powers, lower class revolts, or magical beings. For centuries, supernaturals like yourself clung to the outer rim of the kingdom out of necessity. Some who were able to pass as human lived closer to the castle at the center of the kingdom; but, you had long since lost your cover, choosing to openly use your powers for good and for a source of income.

While the two current rulers had lifted the outright ban on supernaturals and magical beings a few years ago, centuries of prejudice and trepidation could not be quickly unlearned.

It always struck you as ironic how easily the magic of soulmates was accepted, but a simple spell of healing, for example, was not. Perhaps the acceptance of soulmate magic was out of the longevity of its presence or the necessity of its inevitability - perhaps a combination of the two. You were taught from a young age that soulmate bonds felt like a welcomed tether to another person - a connection celebrated and cherished. And, in most cases, that rang true.

However, you knew too much to hope for a soulmate of your own, having heard too many stories from your fellow magic wielders. You knew all too much about the severance of soulmate bonds and the pain that accompanied the process – the pain that never left.

Obviously, you were downright terrified of finding your soulmate and the almost certain rejection that would follow over the mere fact you were a witch. You would stick to your spells and your potions, thank you very much.

Giving the wolfsbane one final stir, you reached for the empty bottle next to your cauldron, only to be interrupted by a thumping knock on the thick wood of your front door. Sighing, you set down the bottle and doused the flames beneath your finished brew with a flick of your hand.

Turning to the door, you cast a quick reveal-spell at the dividing barrier between you and the newcomers. The magic dripped down the door, erasing it from your sight.

Kim Taehyung waited expectantly on the other side, body practically vibrating with anticipation. You rolled your eyes. That boy always carried way too much energy with him. He pounded again on your door. You smirked, it always seemed funny when visitors would continue to knock on what was - for you - an invisible barrier.

You waved the spell away with another wave of your palm. Pulling open the door, you failed to get a word in before you were swept into a giant hug. “(Y/n)!” Taehyung bellowed in your ear while he swung you around.

“Tae,” You wheezed, “Can’t. Breathe.”

The werewolf let you stand on your feet once more. “How is my favorite witch?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, chuckling slightly, “Tae, I’m the only witch you know besides Sinestra, and she scares you.”

Taehyung gasped, “She does not scare me! She’s just mean. She threatened to turn me into a cactus last time I went to her shop!” A pout formed on his face.

“Well,” You cannot resist teasing the boy, “She did say that you were being a prick.”

Taehyung shot you a playful glare and mumbled something about damned witches sticking together.

Deciding to let him off the hook, you headed back over to where the wolfsbane was left waiting to be bottled. “It just finished,” You told Taehyung as he trailed after you. “But, Taehyung, you really should just tell him.”

The reason that Taehyung repressed his wolf each month was none other than his soulmate - a human named Jimin. Tae was terrified of Jimin’s reaction to discovering his supernatural side. You thought his fear was justified, but you also figured that Jimin would be accepting of Tae just from how the werewolf described him.

Besides, it seemed inevitable that Jimin would catch on at some point. And Taehyung seemed to know that, too.

Tae’s shoulders sagged, “I know, (y/n). I’ll think about it.”

With that, you nodded and dropped the subject, pouring the portion of the potion Taehyung needed into a bottle. Capping it tightly, you handed it to him, “Here. Remember to take it with food this time, okay?”

He smiled widely, clutching the bottle close to his chest. “Thank you! I will, (y/n).” Pulling you into one more hug, Taehyung waltzed out the door with a wave.

You smiled wistfully at his departure. So full of life, that one was. You just knew that his soulmate would accept him. You also recognized that you were not like Taehyung. You weren’t as vibrant, as gentle, or as beautiful. Would your soulmate be able to look past all your magic and stay for you? You didn't think so.

Shaking yourself from your negative thoughts, you carefully bottle up the rest of the wolfsbane for your stores. Even though you had long since stopped charging Taehyung, there were other werewolves nearby that you sold the potion to for quite a pretty penny.

You had barely begun to shelve the bottles when another knock sounded at your door. Cracking a wry smile, you yanked the door open, “Tae, what did you forget to tell me this ti—”

The knock had not been from Taehyung. Instead, two palace guards stood there, shoulder to shoulder.

Oh, this was not good. Having any lingering association with the palace would hurt your business. It was always best to deal with potentially hazardous situations quickly. Pulling open the door wider, you stood with hands on your hips, facing the two intruders. They both gaped at you, and you arched an eyebrow at them. “Can I help you, boys?”

You took their continued silence as an opportunity to flick your eyes up and down each of the men before you.

The one on the right looked like he had just passed the guards’ test with his widened doe eyes and his flushed pink cheeks. The one on the left looked slightly older but no less youthful as he seemed to bounce on his toes with energy.

Seconds ticked by until - finally - the second guard exclaimed, “You’re (y/n)? The witch?”

“Last time I checked, yes,” You addressed the guard who had spoken. You dubbed him ‘Happy’. “Were you expecting me to look differently?”

“I heard that you were super old! Like over one hundred years old!” Doe-eyes unhelpfully answered before widening his eyes in panic, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being old! I mean, I love old people! But, not, like, romantically! I mean—”

Happy seemed to notice your mood darkening with each word his partner spewed out. Shoving the younger guard aside, Happy puffed out his chest and announced with pride, “We are members of the Royal Guard sent to escort you to the palace, Miss Witch.”

Doe-eyes nodded swiftly next to him, cowering slightly as you continued to glare at him.

“First of all, please never ever call me ‘Miss Witch’. My name is (y/n),” You uttered, completely unamused, “Second of all, what happens if I refuse your escort?”

The guards slid each other a look.

“Ah, I see,” You murmured, mood darkening even still, “Was there an implied ‘by any means necessary’ tacked on to the end of that sentence that I didn’t hear?”

“She’s a mind reader!” Doe-eyes gasped, leaping behind Happy and peering slightly around his shoulder at you.

You rolled your eyes at the sight of his quivering form, “Calm down, kid. I’m not into non-consensual mind reading.” Shooting the baffled duo a wink, you turned to open your door further. “Please, come in,” You insisted. It was obvious there was no avoiding your summons, but that did not mean your business would suffer.

“But our orders...” Happy failed to follow through with his attempted protest as he practically jumped past you into your little cottage. What an intense curiosity that one had, you mused. Meanwhile, the younger guard seemed more trepidatious, practically tiptoeing across the threshold and into your humble abode.

You shook your head at the way the two palace guards were quickly captivated by your gathered crystals, your worn spellbooks, and your wall of potion ingredients. Swiftly, you shelved the rest of the wolfsbane potion like you had tried to do before being interrupted.

Your clients would have to pick it up themselves. Scrawling a quick note to your fellow witch Sinestra about the recent events just in case, you vanish it to her with a snap of your fingers.

“Whoa,” Two awed voices sounded from behind you.

“It went ‘poof’!” Doe-eyes yelled, tugging on the sleeve of his fellow guard, “Did you see?”

“Do you want to go ‘poof’, too?” You smiled evilly, wiggling your fingers in his direction.

“Ah, hyung! She’s threatening me!”

“Get it together, bro,” Happy rolled his eyes. Turning to address you, he asked expectantly, “Ready to go now, (y/n)?”

“As I’ll ever be,” You muttered, grabbing your cloak from the rack by the door. Ushering the two men out before you, you quickly cast your protective charms on your home. Now, no one besides your most trusted clients should be able to enter.

Satisfied, you trailed behind the guards as they walked over to where their horses were tied to one of the many nearby trees surrounding your cottage. At least they didn't seem to be malicious in their intent. Their backs were to you, either a sign of trust or blatant stupidity. Only time would tell, you guessed.

"You'll ride with me," Happy smiled at you as he held his palm out for you to take. You shrugged, ignoring his hand to mount the horse on your own. "Alright then," The guard muttered as he seated himself behind you, "Let's go."

The journey towards the heart of the kingdom was not one you made often. It was only out of necessity that you sometimes ventured to the more expensive markets for key ingredients. The looming castle always stirred up inexplicable and foreign feelings of longing and fascination. You feared that actually entering it this time would be almost too overwhelming.

As the three of you made your way through the town you lived in, you received some tentative smiles and concerned looks from those in which you interacted with regularly. Visitors from the palace were rarities in these parts of the kingdom. You didn't blame people for being concerned by the guards’ appearance and by your departure with them.

The day wore on as you made your way through village after village, stopping only for a quick lunch. All too soon the palace appeared on the horizon. The looks you received from the townspeople were no longer cordial or concerned. They were full of suspicion and condescension.

You shrugged it off as best you could. You had bigger things to worry about - starting with whatever was waiting for you on the other side of the looming palace gates.

The large engraved metal doors swung open with your approach as Happy and Doe-eyes nodded to the guards posted there. Your breath caught in your throat. The castle was magnificent. The stone structure seemed to shine with a silvery sheen. Large stained glass windows gleamed from the many stories and towers adorning the palace. Vines wound their way up the walls despite the best efforts of the gardeners to stem their growth.

You stifled a laugh as one such gardener attempted to do so, but the vine refused to budge. Maybe there was some magic here after all.

Two other palace guards walked over to where the three of you had come to a stop inside the palace gates. Doe-eyes dismounted first and then offered a hand in your direction. This time, you decided to take the olive branch and accepted his assistance.

“Okay, ready?” Happy nodded at you and pointed towards the castle doors. “Let’s go. We don’t want to keep the kings waiting.”

“Oh, no,” You gasped, slapping a hand to your heart, “That would be a travesty.”

Doe-eye’s mouth quirked at the corners like he had stifled a laugh, while Happy spluttered something about respect. The short walk to the front entrance was much too short for your liking. You felt like you were walking to your doom - and maybe you were. The two guards had given you no clues as to the purpose of your summoning. That was such bullshit.

The heavy gold encrusted front doors creaked open as you approached. The foyer of the palace beckoned to you with that familiar pull. You sighed as you took in the expensive decor. From the shiny marble floors to the heavy purple drapery, you could see yourself living here all too easily. Why did you feel so called to this place? Well, you had always thought of yourself as a queen.

Laughing to yourself, you let yourself be ushered down an adjacent corridor to the right of the foyer. You barely noticed where you were headed since your attention lingered on the gorgeous paintings that lined the walls. You probably should have been more alert because you suddenly found yourself at the cusp of the throne room.

The second you entered the room your attention was captured by the two men lounging on elevated thrones at the focal point of the room. These must be the kings, you mused. You had never seen them in person before, but their reputations preceded them. Your magic surged as you neared the kings. Was there a threat nearby? You shift a glance throughout the wide hall.

Courtesans were scattered amidst large marble columns adorned with intertwining gold and silver accents. The majority of those gathered gaped at you in distaste, while a small handful simply spared a few curious glances. You couldn't spot a single person you knew in the bunch - not that you had expected to - nor could you find a source of outright danger.

Still, your magic thrummed louder within you as you continued on your way towards the kings.

Your heart sank. This was not a reaction based on imminent danger. No, you knew what this was; someone here was your soulmate. And, when your eyes finally landed on the two men who summoned you, you had to choke down the hysterical laugh that bubbled up inside you.

King Yoongi reclined lazily on his ornate silver and black onyx throne, his body lax but his eyes sharp. His laser-focused attention on you made your stomach flip. You held his gaze as best you could, taking in the delicate dark silk of his diamond encrusted tunic and the tousled auburn hair on which his silver crown resided. He was beautiful.

And he was your soulmate.

Could he feel the tether between you? Had he known about it somehow before you did? Was this why were you here?

Your eyes slid over to the right, unable to take the heat of King Yoongi’s gaze; King Namjoon’s curious eyes met yours. Unlike his partner, King Namjoon leaned forwards on his gold and emerald throne, avidly taking you in like you were a subject of study. And perhaps you were… You studied him right back. This king was no less intimidating in his scrutiny than the other. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands steepled in front of his face as he stared you down. The intelligence you saw within the depths of his brown eyes clued you in that this was a king that no one could fool.

And, since fate was clearly a bitch, he was your soulmate, too.

You came to a stop before the kings amidst the sea of murmuring courtiers. “Bow,” Doe-eyes whispered to you, urgently prodding you in the side with his hand. You only stood straighter. You bowed to no one, and you certainly would not bow to your soulmates - no matter their status.

“Leave us.” At King Namjoon’s command, the room emptied. Your two escorts remained behind you. “Hoseok, Jungkook, that includes you,” King Namjoon lifted his chin as he swished a hand in dismissal of the two guards.

“But, sire—”

King Yoongi spoke for the first time, effectively cutting Happy off, “Don’t worry, Hoseok. What can one little witch do to us?”

Oh, you could think of a lot of things. Your thoughts must have been written all over your face because King Namjoon glanced at you and immediately let out a deep chuckle.

Glaring at the two men before you, you decided that one way or another they would learn to respect you. The guards you now knew to be Hoseok and Jungkook exited the room, leaving you alone with the two kings - your two soulmates.

Now, it seemed that you were somehow in a staring contest with both of them at once. Fine, if they didn't want to talk, you would.

“So, nice weather we’re having, huh,” Your tone could not be any drier.

“Indeed,” King Namjoon quirked a half smile, and you realized you might be in over your head as his dimple made its first appearance.

You hated the whole power imbalance thing going on right now - the two of them sitting silently on an elevated platform lording over where you stood. Gathering all your dignity and lack thereof, you placed your hands on your ample hips and raised your eyebrows, “Well? Did you summon me just to stare?”

“No,” King Yoongi drawled, cupping his chin in his hand, “But you are quite delightful to look at, soulmate… That is, if this is your true form.”

You let the backhanded compliment simmer as King Namjoon chastised his partner, shooting him a warning look.

“Ah, yes,” You finally say, swiping at a nonexistent tear, “You’ve caught me. My true form is actually so old that it’s partially decomposed. Ah, silly me. I thought I would spare you from the grotesque monstrosity.”

King Namjoon burst into uproarious laughter. “Yoongi-ah,” He wheezed, “You’ve really met your match this time.”

Opposite him, King Yoongi scowled, “It was a fair question! The last witch that we summoned could shift into an owl.”

“You’ve met Helvetica?” You blinked, thinking of the only witch you knew with that ability, “She’s legendary.” Then, it registered. “Wait, what do you mean she was ‘the last witch you summoned’... Why have you been summoning witches left and right?”

“Isn’t it obvious now?” King Namjoon smiled, “We’ve been looking for you.”

“You see, (y/n),” King Yoongi purred your name, inciting a shiver down your spine, “Namjoon and I are also soulmates.” He gracefully shifted to his feet before walking down the few steps to where you still stood.

Circling you like a shark in water, King Yoongi continued, “But we had been feeling lonely despite our connection. We couldn't figure out why.”

“That’s right,” King Namjoon chimed in from his throne, “We tried everything to fill that void.”

“And we mean everything,” King Yoongi whispered in your ear, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

“We were quite desperate,” King Namjoon laughed lightly. He, too, rose to his feet and made his way to stand before you.

Your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest from the sheer sensation of being caught in between these two beautiful men. King Yoongi continued to play with your hair from his position behind you. King Namjoon’s heavy gaze pinned you in place with its wicked intent.

“Desperate enough to contact King Seokjin of Andolia and request that his top Seer be sent to us to do a reading.” King Yoongi’s words caused you to jolt back slightly in shock. Andolia was known to be a more liberal kingdom than yours. It was a kingdom of magic, of carnal pleasure, of beauty.

Plus, King Seokjin was practically famous for his good looks and for his love of otherworldly entertainment.

“You outsourced from Andolia? Couldn't you just have asked one of the Seers here in Meridian?” It seemed absurd to you that these two kings reached out to another land so unlike their own for assistance - especially when you knew of at least four Seers in your own land.

King Yoongi and King Namjoon exchanged a look. “The Seers in our kingdom weren't exactly forthcoming, (y/n).” The taller king in front of you withered under your responding glare.

Could they really blame the Seers for not coming forward to help the very kingdom that had rejected them for so long? You certainly didn't think so.

King Yoongi continued, “Well, King Seokjin sent us his personal Seer Moonbyul… And imagine our surprise when she took one look at us and laughed.”

“‘No wonder you’re lonely! You’re missing one,’” King Namjoon quoted the Seer’s past words with air quotes. You had to bite down a smile over the cuteness of his action. “And not just anyone… a witch no less!”

His tone was light, jovial. You couldn't tell his feelings on your magical status no matter how hard you searched his twinkling brown eyes. Turning slightly, you assessed the other king who looked no less unreadable.

Still staring at King Yoongi, you questioned, “Okay, so you knew your other soulmate was a witch, and you just decided to summon every witch in Meridian to check them out? Do you have any idea how much that would scare us?”

The shorter king had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. “I guess we were too excited by the prospect of finding you.”

You fought down the hopeful feeling inside you. There was no way these two actually wanted to keep your bond to them, right? Not in this economy…

“I’m just going to be straight up with you.” You pulled away from their hold and paced away to climb up a couple steps so you were finally the same height. “I think you searched for me because you want to sever our bond.”

The two kings moved to interrupt you, but you just held a palm in the air, “No, let me finish. Look, I’ve already come to terms with the fact that my soulmate wouldn't want to be tied to a witch. And why should I even want to be with someone who doesn’t respect me or my craft?”

You lowered your palm, effectively lifting the unspoken silencing charm you had cast on them.

The first thing that King Yoongi said once he recovered his voice was: “Damn, that was sexy.”

And the second? “I would rather sever my left arm than sever our bond.”

“Well,” You blinked as King Namjoon nodded emphatically besides his partner, “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Please don’t write us off that easily, (y/n),” The taller king begged, “Don’t you feel it? The tether between the three of us? Can’t you see we were made for each other?”

Oh, you felt it. You felt the pull so deeply that you feared you might lose yourself within them.

But if the spark you felt for them was akin to a flame, you weren’t sure if you were the darkness longing to be brightened or the moth destined to be burned.

Would it be worth it to give up your current life to be with them? Could you leave Taehyung and your little cottage? Could you survive in a court that held no love for your kind?

Your prolonged hesitance clearly worried the two kings before you.

“What can we do to show you how much we want you here with us?” King Yoongi implored, his hand drifting out to clasp with King Namjoon’s.

Staring down at the unified front the kings presented, you realized that your soulmates could offer you so much if you let them. By accepting the bond, you could gain the ability to help others more broadly than just offering simple spells of assistance. You could feel safe and secure. And, you could even allow yourself to love and be loved.

“Hm,” You mused, “I think I need to take a seat.” You lounged on the very throne in which Yoongi had lazed just a half an hour prior.

“Just when I thought you couldn't get any more beautiful,” King Namjoon murmured as he stared up at you as you reclined on the silver and black throne.

King Yoongi hummed in agreement, “We’ll need to make hers resplendent just to even come close to her radiance.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” You lied, secretly basking in the warmth of their praises, “Would I really get my own throne? You’re not planning on shoving me in a far away tower?”

“We were fearful of this,” King Namjoon walked up to the foot of the throne with King Yoongi in tow. Pausing briefly, they both fell to their knees before you. King Namjoon continued, “We feared you would think the worst of us. And for good reason.”

King Yoongi’s gaze pleaded with yours as he explained his partner's words, “We grew up to be scared of magic. We were sheltered from it and were told falsehoods about its ‘malicious nature’. It wasn’t until a few years ago that we first travelled to Andolia and met King Seokjin that we realized how wrong we were.”

“We were ignorant,” King Namjoon said lowly, “We removed the outright ban on magic and supernaturals immediately, but unlearning such prejudiced ways has proven to be difficult for our kingdom.”

You took everything in. You did not doubt that they were being genuine; however, one thought still lingered in the back of your mind.

“If I stay here with you...” Both kings eagerly stared up at you and you rolled your eyes, “And I mean if I do, will you see me as an equal? Will you respect me as such?”

The kings exchanged a confused glance before replying that they already did. You weren’t convinced. You decided to lay everything on the table.

“Okay, but do you really respect me? Or do you just want to fuck me?”

“Do those have to be mutually exclusive?” King Yoongi asked, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was holding himself back from touching you.

Your lips quirked, “I suppose not.”

“Thank the gods for that,” He growled, “I’ve been hard since you sat on my throne.” Both kings moved forward with clear sensual intent, but you sent a wave of magic forward - effectively halting their movements.

Their eyes blazed with desire for you that you were certain was mirrored in your own. You take in the magnificence of the sight before you. Your two powerful soulmates on their knees before you, desperate to touch you, to taste you. Your eyes traveled over the expanse of Namjoon’s shoulders to settle on his black velvet and gold choker. Then, you shift your gaze to Yoongi and his long ring adorned fingers, the smooth skin of his chest that peeked from the v-neck of his tunic.

They really were quite a pair. What in the universe had you done to be fated to such beauty? You guessed you probably shouldn’t question it.

Waving away the magical barrier between you, you began, “Earlier you asked what you could do to show that you want me here with you.”

“That’s right,” Yoongi rasped, his heated gaze locked with yours as he lightly trailed a finger up your calf. Beside him, Namjoon inclined his head in agreement before taking your hand in his.

Trying to ignore the rising tension, you forged onwards. It was important that you made these points before this went any further. “Well, I have some requirements.”

Namjoon cracked a smile, “I would be disappointed if you didn’t, my soul.”

Your cheeks warmed at the endearment but didn’t let it distract you. “I want to draft an ordinance that explicitly declares equity for those with magical and supernatural abilities.”

“Done.” Your soulmates agreed in unison.

You paused. That had been almost too easy… “And also an amendment stating that discrimination against said subjects will not be tolerated by any means.”

“Agreed.”

You were on a roll now. “I like practicing magic. It’s a part of me. I don’t want to have to hide it.”

Namjoon pressed a kiss to your palm, “We don’t want you to hide it.”

“Your magic is beautiful, (y/n),” Yoongi’s hand slid further up your leg, “You should never feel like you have to hide an intrinsic part of yourself - especially around us.”

Your body burned under their touch, but you still held back. Were they just going to agree to any old thing you threw at them? “I also want ten thousand Burmese pythons.”

That took them a second to process. “We can easily get you around six hundred, maybe seven?” Namjoon squinted as he seemed to calculate the math in his head, “I’ll have to talk to our allies about trading for the remaining amount.”

Spluttering out a laugh, you shook your head, “I was just kidding about the snakes, my gods. Although… now that i think about it, maybe one would be cool?”

Yoongi pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. When had he pushed your skirt up that high? “Anything for you, my queen.”

It was official. You were ruined.

Your soulmates had effectively stymied your doubts and quelled your fears, leaving you with only the intense desire to be with them.

And so you caved. “That just leaves one last stipulation... You say you want me, need me. Well then show me how badly you want me to be with you.”

The words barely left your mouth before they were on you. Yoongi pushed your legs further apart so that he could get closer to you. His hands slid around your waist, tugging your body flush against him, and he fused his mouth with yours.

You smiled into his kiss as you felt Namjoon sidle up to you and begin to place fevered kisses across your collarbone. A witch could get used to this, you thought as Yoongi’s tongue tentatively swiped across your lower lip. What a good boy he was to not take more than you offered.

Your hands tangled into Yoongi’s silky strands before they came to a halt at his crown. Carefully, you slid the crown off his head and onto yours. Pulling away from Yoongi’s mouth slightly, you murmured, “Well? How’s it look?”

“You look like our queen,” Namjoon whispered hoarsely as Yoongi just looked at you like he might devour you whole.

At Namjoon’s words, you turned to face him, hooked a finger around the choker adorning his neck, and tugged his mouth onto yours. His hand immediately flew up to cradle your cheek as he kissed you as if you might slip away from him if he stopped. You almost laughed at how obvious it was to you now that Namjoon was the more dominant of the two.

He had just mastered the art of patience amongst the other things you only hoped you could have the pleasure of discovering. His teeth playfully nipped at your bottom lip, and you returned the affection in kind.

Meanwhile, Yoongi refused to let you forget about him as he settled into his position of kneeling between your legs. His lips kissed and sucked at your neck while his fingers danced up your thighs, taunting you with their light touch.

You decided you had been teased enough. Tugging away from Namjoon and shifting Yoongi back from you slightly, you paused briefly to focus your magic and then snapped your fingers. Your dress and undergarments disappeared from your body and reappeared a few steps away folded neatly.

“Fuck, I love magic,” Yoongi breathed as he takes in your naked body for the first time.

Without hesitation, you hitch one leg over one of the ornate arms of the chair. “Well?” You arched a brow, looking over your two speechless soulmates, “Are you just going to stare? Or are you going to get naked?”

The speed at which they shed their clothes almost gave your magic a run for its money.

You marveled at the two men before you, their bodies chiseled, their cocks hard.

“How do you want us?” Yoongi asked, practically thrumming with anticipation.

You arched an eyebrow at Namjoon, “Is he always this eager?”

The taller man grinned, “Occasionally, but this level is rare form for him.”

Yoongi scowled, “Please, Joon, like you aren’t dying to sink your cock into our soulmate’s pretty little pussy.”

“Oh,” You sighed, “Someone has quite a mouth on them… Why don’t we put that to good use while Joon teaches you some discipline.”

Not even thrown off at the notion of being punished, Yoongi gladly sunk to his knees before you once more. Namjoon hesitated, and you quickly realized the problem. Summoning your magic, you materialized some water-based lubricant for him.

“Yeah,” Namjoon laughed, “Magic is a fucking beautiful thing.” Taking the lube from you, he leaned down to prep Yoongi. “Ready?” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine. Yoongi nodded.

“Gods yes,” You barely finished your thought before Yoongi buried his face between your legs, his mouth immediately kissing and exploring your pussy. The first stroke of his tongue tore a moan from you as your back arched into the cool metal behind you.

“(Y/n),” Namjoon growled, “Look at me, my soul. Watch me fuck our soulmate while he tastes you. I want you to feel each of my thrusts in every jolt of his tongue.”

Despite not being one to typically take orders, the heat of Namjoon’s words pulled your attention immediately and the sight before you made it stay. You watched enraptured as Namjoon slowly sank his cock into Yoongi’s ass.

Yoongi groaned and the vibrations sent another rush of arousal through you as he continued to greedily tease your clit with his tongue. Your hands dug into his auburn waves, pushing his face harder against your pussy.

Namjoon slid out of Yoongi and then drove back in. The visual of his hard cock pumping feverishly in and out of Yoongi’s pert ass was indescribable when every stroke caused Yoongi’s tongue to thrust inside you and his nose to nudge against your clit.

“How does she taste, Yoongi? Is she as sweet as she looks?”

You scowled at Namjoon for causing Yoongi to pause his worship in order to answer. “She tastes like the fucking sun, Namjoon.”

“Now, that doesn’t even make sense— Fuck,” You moaned as Yoongi’s mouth sucked hard on your clit, effectively shutting you up. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you felt the arousal build and build inside of you. Your legs shook as Yoongi sucked and hummed on your clit as Joon continued to pound into him.

Your eyes focused on the sharp movements of Namjoon’s hip and the flexing of his muscles as he alternated in thrusting and rolling his hips. Gods, you wanted those hips to drive that cock deep inside of you.

“Does this please you, my soul?” Namjoon growled, “Do you like watching me wreck Yoongi while he gives you pleasure?”

“Y-yes,” Your breath hitched as Yoongi teasingly nipped at your swollen bud. “But I want you to wreck me and then I want to wreck you both.”

Namjoon’s thrusts stuttered to a halt as your words connected. Yoongi tore his mouth from your folds. Placing your foot on his forehead, you gently pushed Yoongi back so you could stand, “I want both of you inside me.”

Panting, Yoongi gasped, “Please, please wreck us, my queen.” His lips shone with your essence and you swiped a finger along their seam. Bringing your finger up to Namjoon’s plush lips, you tilted your head with a sly smile, “Well? You wanted a taste, didn’t you?”

Without a pause, he took your finger into his mouth, his tongue curling around the digit, tasting you. His dark eyes remained on yours as he released your finger with a pop. “So fucking divine,” Namjoon groaned, his hands darting out to grab your hips, his hard cock pressing into your stomach.

Yoongi once again mirrored Joon’s actions from behind you. You could feel his hardness against your ass, and you couldn't help but to grind slowly into him. “(Y/n),” Yoongi moaned into your neck as his cock practically throbbed with need for relief.

Tugging Namjoon closer to you, you whispered, “My love, go sit on your throne.”

Your soulmate appeared confused but nonetheless did what you said. Pausing only briefly to admire the way Namjoon looked on his throne, you extracted yourself from Yoongi and sauntered over to stand over Joon.

“You know,” You murmured, grabbing his cock firmly, eliciting a gorgeous moan from the man, “I think I want to sit on your throne, too.” Your hand stroked him teasingly as his head leaned against the back of his throne.

“As you wish, my soul,” He rasped out, his thighs tensing.

With that, you knelt over him. Immediately, Namjoon’s hands rested on your ass and squeezed. “What a greedy boy,” You murmured, placing a soft kiss on his lips, “That’s for Yoongi, my love. Or is my pussy not enough for you?”

As you spoke, you slowly sunk down his thick cock inch by inch. And at the mention of his name, Yoongi practically shoved Namjoon’s hands off your ass and replaced them with his. Echoing your own words, he teased the younger king, “Yeah, Joonie, don’t be greedy.”

Namjoon shot the two of you a half-hearted glare, but before he could say a word, you clenched your walls around him. “F-fuck,” He moaned, his eyes squeezed tight, “You feel so good around my cock, so wet.”

You slid up and down his length, reveling in the building heat consuming you. From behind you, Yoongi slowly teased your other opening. The coolness of his finger assured you that he had done this before. His finger slid into my ass with ease, the lube no doubt helping with that. You both moaned.

“You like that, my queen?” Yoongi growled, beginning to push his finger in and out.

“Oh my gods, yes,” You felt wild from the sensation of being so full of your soulmates, but you couldn't help but want more. “Want your cock inside me, too, Yoongi.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” He responded, pulling his finger out of you. After a moment, you felt the gentle nudge of his cock head against your ass. You stilled your motions, bottoming out on Joon’s dick as you waited with anticipation of being stuffed full with both of them.

Slowly, inch by inch, Yoongi pushed into you. “Fuck,” He bit out, “Joon, I can feel you.”

You felt so satisfied as Yoongi’s hips pressed into you, his cock buried deep inside you.

Namjoon’s cock twitched inside you as he no doubt could feel Yoongi right back. “Please, my soul, I need to fuck you. Let us fuck you,” He begged, gazing down at you with pupils blown out wide.

“No,” You shook your head emphatically, “I’m going to fuck you.”

With that, you started riding Namjoon’s cock. Moving up and down his thick shaft, you guided Yoongi’s hands to your hips as he thrust in and out of you in time to your movements. Every time you sank down on Namjoon’s shaft, Yoongi thrust into your ass. It was exquisite.

You felt your orgasm coiling within you, burning brightly. You squeezed down, trying to prolong the sensation, rolling your hips.

“Godsdamn,” Yoongi moaned, “Your ass is so tight, my queen. I’m not going to last much longer.”

You shook your ass slightly just to tease him. Yoongi responded by biting your neck and muttering, “You’re such a witch.”

“You fucking know it,” You gasped out as Namjoon suddenly rolled your clit between his fingers. Pleasure shot through you as you writhed on top of them. Your walls clenched down as you hurtled towards bliss, your world going white.

You could feel both of them coming inside you, painting your walls. The heat of their releases only added to the intensity of your orgasm as you flew over the edge, milking them with every pulse of your pussy.

Slowly, you came down from your high, breathing hard. Collapsing against Joon’s chest, you nuzzled his neck.

You felt his chuckle before you heard it, “I think we tired her out, Yoongi.”

“Yes, I think so, Joon,” Yoongi replied, slowly pulling out of you, “Let’s get you cleaned up. We have a private hot spring just outside.”

Not one to be outdone, you straightened, hopping off Joon. Placing your hands on your hips, you leveled each of them with a devilish smile, “Hey, maybe I was pretending to be satisfied for your benefits, you old men.”

“Old!?” Yoongi bellowed, so easily riled up.

“Hmm,” Namjoon’s arms encircled you, hugging you to him. Bringing his mouth to your ear, he whispered, “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you, my soul?”

“Undoubtedly,” You whispered back as Yoongi still fumes over being called old. Yeah, a witch could really get used to this.

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sohcean · 3 years

Text

to love and be loved (or, the first foray into doing this again)

it's been a long time, hasn't it? i said that it would probably take awhile for me to get here again but... i can hardly help myself at this point. forgive me if this is surprising.

i figured that five months of pondering and growing would mean next to nothing if i didn't share it. here. i want to share.

so i'll begin slowly articulating some of the lessons i've learned while i was gone. and i'll get my bearings again. and maybe you'll like this era of writing more than my last. i hope so, at least.

in short, here is what i wish to say: love has become sort of a... kinesthetic experience, these days. articulated only by some sort of movement, or touch; touching the heart, reaching the heart, it's all facilitated by human hands, is it not? symbolically, at least. a symbolic movement of the frame.

is love not just carrying? holding? reaching? building some sort of space to inhabit? it doesn't really matter what the connection is; it is the same, whether i am with a friend, or brushing past a stranger, whether i know someone or not, it exists. that's kind of what we are, isn't it? beings capable of connecting in split second encounters, loving strangers just because they smile at us in passing— a carrying, of sorts. we carry that with us, wherever we go.

so in this space, tumultuous as it may be, as it has always been, how do you carry? hold? reach? build?

i say that the answer is this: there are as many loves as there are people on this planet. we all move differently, do we not? your carrying is different than mine, feels different from mine. i could go on forever about it.

i won't do that, though. i'll spare you... this time. i'll gift you a half complete thought, instead.

the way that kihyun carries is the easiest to grasp, right now. he holds in remembrance. cradles ever so fondly. remembering the littlest details from letters (to the point that he can and will recite them, word for word, to the people that sent them at fansigns), remembering to wake someone up on fancafe... it is a repeated motion, like rubbing someone's fingers, or singing to a plant. it is proven over time, constantly built up. he is always glancing behind him, making sure no one is left behind. (about his brothers, he says, "there is no one i've known that can make me worry if i've not seen them only for a day.") his carry is warm. it's soft. he holds gently but firmly, feet dug into the ground, and yet, still smiling. the man who would rather be forgotten than to ever forget us. he who believes in eternal love. a lighthouse of sorts; shining bright, standing tall, leading home.

and home is so important when it comes to their carrying as a whole. for changkyun, whose every movement reveals something close to his heart, who is thoughtful and kind, tender, and yet forceful, his brothers are his home. blood brothers, or brothers forged in blood, whose parents are his parents, whose hearts he carries in his silent manner. his hold is as soft and quiet and intimate as he is, in that vein. he who is always quietly taking care; the gifts he leaves on beds, the way he just goes along with everything (jooheon demands a goodnight hug, hyungwon blows him a kiss, they constantly fawn over how much he's grown), the way he is always trying to unburden everyone. a soft removing. a brushing of the knuckles. the man who would rather feel everyone's pain than to let his loved ones bear it alone. he who holds out his heart and then tucks things away in it, whose every breath is reminiscent of a, "don't worry," who says the members were his fate. the night sky. all encompassing, always there, just quiet about it.

and there is no one who is always there like hyunwoo is. if carrying was a person, it would be him. the most recent example of which is the past couple of weeks, where, even though he's on hiatus, he makes a point of popping his head in, an assurance. who just last night, assured us that, "he's here." who always tries to assuage any worries about him, and gently reminds everyone to take care of themselves, to not get hurt, to get up slowly if we've been hurt, and that he loves us, always. always bearing the weight until he absolutely can't anymore. always looking out, observing, beaming when he sees us, saying his brothers are all he has. the man who would do anything to protect the string that connects them. he who called us his hope, in all seriousness. the most reassuring of touches. i can't find it, but if there were anything to grasp the fringes of what i think he is, it would be that one photo where a monbebe broke down in front of him and he reached out and caressed their head. the sun. beaming, bright, unconditional, kind; forever shining on us all.

and who could speak of forever without mentioning hyungwon? forever, or as long as possible. there's something about hyungwon and time, finality, the weighted resolutions that lie in the undertow of his love's river. we are his last, the brotherhood is so precious to him, this, this right here, he will hang onto it as long as he permitted. his hold... is just walking hand in hand, really. he is constantly revealing more and more of his affections, trying to be more open with his emotions, keeping us by his side perpetually. and like kihyun, he is always checking over his shoulder to make sure that we're alright, we're there. a diligent, soft taking care of his people. the man who said that the most important thing, the most precious thing, was spending time with people he loves and who love him. he who wants as many days as he can get with his brothers, with us. a reassuring squeeze of the hand (tell me despair, yours), and the space to squeeze back (and i will tell you mine). a lantern, softly held in the hands, floating up to the stars with endless hopes and wishes.

and hope... i don't think i could touch on hope without mentioning jooheon. hope is full of light, as is he. the strength of his beliefs and convictions is almost infallible, and he always believes in their capacity as a whole to do better, to be better, to get better. and his hold is as star studded and light filled as he is, though maybe that brightness turns to warmth in the process. his openness is inspiring, like being held close to his chest and hearing his heartbeat. to be the impetus of so much of his work, to be called an inspiration, to talk to and then receive a reply in song... the warmth is unending. and to him, the most important thing is the touching, is the love; we are the audience he caters to, and if we like it, then that's enough. and he holds his brothers even closer; kissing their hands, constantly beaming with pride over their connection, being reduced to tears over how close they are. the man who called us his light. he who would bear anything just for those whom he loves. a star, really. bright, burning, but still soft and romantic, in a sense.

and that brings me to minhyuk. his carry, like all things minhyuk, is unlike anyone else's. he notices details, big and small, and carries them with him. he learns lessons and carries them with him. i cannot, will not ever forget him saying that he didn't believe in unconditional love before us. he carries his loved ones on his body, in the whale tattoo that is supposed to take everyone to a better place. he carries his memories in his soul so that he may never forget how it feels. winning first place was so important because it opened the way for it just to be them and us, just to talk. he misses sitting on the stage and singing for us and looking at us as close as he can. he who constantly, constantly greets us with warmth. "shh. i'm going to work. i love you." the man who carries us wherever he goes. who would open a daycare so that he'd be able to see us one more time. the man who carries the brotherhood wherever he goes. always remembering the littlest details about them, even if he jokes about it. holding them when they need to be held, loving each of them in the way they need to be loved. who says i love you by reflex. who talks about them almost every episode of his radio show, and who took them all on his show, even though he said it was like having family at the office. he who called us home, and then said that the members were his home, the place where he could rest after a long day; solo schedules are lonely, but the warmth re-enters once he sees their faces. an aurora, spreading wide, full of color, a soft, gentle, strong light.

to love and be loved. to carry and be carried. the hold and be held. to touch and be touched. back and forth, back and forth, in and out, like the tide.

inhabiting the same space.

what is this but that, really?

#beepost #i wrote this w fern in mind the whole time by the way #she doesn't know that yet but she WILL #now to alert all my older sister friends that i wrote one again and hopefully make them smile :)#anyway... yeah this is really long winded but . i wanted to say it #fern said it was fitting for the return of the beeposts #hey uh by the way if you ever like . filter through the things that minhyuk has said even in passing #like . emotionally prepare yourself he's ... something else entirely #i digress #i hope you like it #long post #VERY long this is 1.6k words

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joontella · 3 years

Text

achromatic.

Yandere!Kim Namjoon x Female Reader

Word Count: 11.1k

Genre(s): Angst, Slight Fluff, (HORRIBLY WRITTEN) Smut

Trigger Warning(s): Mentions of religion or lack thereof, blood, murder, idk how the human body works, (unknown) consumption of blood, manipulation, stalking, male masturbation (again, horribly written), Namjoon is an asshole, and musical terms because i play music rip, minor character death, slight gore. it gets really shitty towards the end. i’m sorry

Merry Merry! It’s Peppermint! Your gift is finally here, @exhausted-joy! I’m sorry for the wait. I had to make sure that it was perfect. This is my first time doing this, and I really wanted to give it my all. Please forgive me, and thank you for putting up with my antics in the server. I hope you enjoy it!

I also want to thank Saniya (@smeraldos-blog), Mari (@joheun-saram), Hannah (@spicykoreantatertots), Ley (@pars-ley), Avery (@ksmuttherapy), and everyone else who tolerated and/or helped me out! I love you all and thank you so much for the help and support! I’m so happy to have met you all!

ach·ro·mat·ic /akrəˈmadik/

adjective

without color.

“Damn. There goes my chance of starting my winter break with a passing grade.” One woman groaned.

“What the hell are you talking about? You have a solid ‘C’! I’m literally failing everything!” Her friend responded, as her arms waved in a cartoonish rendition of exasperation. “And whose fault is that?” “Not mine! This semester was nothing but a months-long depressive episode. How could I focus with everything that’s going on?”

He so desperately wishes that they would shut up, or at the very least, take their obnoxiously loud conversation elsewhere. Namjoon twirled the ink pen in his hand with a practiced precision only years of being hunched over paperwork could provide. However, those were nothing but pipe dreams as the two students turned their attention over to him. “There’s Kim Namjoon! He’s had the top spot for years now, way before he was enrolled here.” One began babbling quite loudly whilst pointing to the man in question. “I bet he came out of the womb with high marks. I heard that he scored in the 99th percentile for his newborn screening tests.” The other swooned in response to her own musings.

Obviously, these two were much more idiotic than he had originally thought. It didn’t take an expert to read his body language: the way that he twirled his pen faster, as if that could speed up the agonizing conversation he was being forced to bear witness to; the way his jaw clenched so tightly that it could easily break a metal wire; and the position his shoulders held, resembling an animal coiling in preparation to strike or flee. He pleaded to gods he didn’t even believe in for the duo to be quickly eradicated with a swift strike of lightning. According to the calculations he made swiftly in his head, the chances of something like that happening were infinitesimally small. How unfortunate.

Deciding that the best course of action to take would be to leave the two neanderthals to their devices, Namjoon did just that. He quickly snapped his book shut with one hand and a loud, meaningful clap as the pages suddenly collided with each other. If that didn’t make the nuisances jump in surprise, his words would.

“Although I’m a source of inspiration and wonder to many, it’s degrading to hear someone so openly refer to me in a way that one would to an exotic zoo animal,” He began. Namjoon’s tone was cool and even, carrying an air of regality all the while retaining a bitter edge of contempt and disdain for both the conversation and the mere existence of the two original party members.

Finally, the two felt the brunt of the consequences their crimes on Namjoon’s ears had to offer. They both visibly wilted, reminding the tall man of his mother’s daisies being roasted and withering under the dry summer heat. Normally, this would have been more than enough to diffuse the situation and lift him of his auditory burden. However, his heart ached for more. His brain so desperately yearned for more stimulation and a rush of dopamine.

He decided to twist the knife, so to speak.

“Also, you too could rise to the top.” Namjoon said as he began to turn away.

Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the two wilted flowers gain new life and their faces brighten with newfound hope. The loudest of the two even had the audacity to whimper a pathetically optimistic, “Really?”

Twist. Twist. Twist!

“Of course~.” Namjoon purred, deciding to turn to face his victims’ satisfying demise. His heart threatened to beat in double time in anticipation.

Although their anxiously awaiting smiles made his stomach turn, he couldn’t deny the mirth swirling alongside the disgust in his belly.

“First off, instead of blaming your inadequacies solely on the tumultuous events of this year, take responsibility for your shortcomings. Only children avoid blaming themselves.”

He could hear the glass shattering as their faces fell in a tandem that most would find heartbreaking. He found it utterly amusing. Now, he would take his leave. After receiving the reaction he desired and more, Namjoon wanted nothing more than to leave the duo to stew in their humiliation. Yet, one last thing lingered. He had yet to land the finishing blow that would ensure that he wouldn’t be bothered by these two pieces of scum ever again.

Twist. Twist! TWIST!

“Before I forget, avoid talking so loudly. As you may or may not have noticed, I was trying to study. You know, one of the things that facilitates good grades? I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but your incessant bantering made it increasingly difficult to do so. Might I suggest that you follow my example and do the same? Maybe then, one day, you could take my place at the top.”

Namjoon wasn’t even facing them anymore. His back was to the two women, further solidifying his dismissal of them. With a simple and curt wave of his hand, he simply uttered,

“Ladies.”

And he was on his way.

“Exam results will be posted this afternoon. I trust that you all scored high enough marks to keep our university in high regard.” Your professor droned from the front of the lecture hall. “I know that many of you despise the fact that a standardized test is still administered in college, but so far, it is the only way to ensure that Mugunghwa National Academy is churning out bright students worthy enough to contribute to society!”

The students in question couldn’t care less about their scores or the school’s prestige. All they were worried about was getting the hell out of there after two hours of examination and stifling silence. They all stood from their seats and slung their bags across their bodies. A disgruntled murmur rang throughout. Quite frankly, you were no different.

As you hugged your notebook close to your body, your professor stopped you as you reached the lecture hall door.

“Ah, Miss (L/N). A word, please.”

Surprised, you let out a soft, “Sure.” and walked over to the podium where your professor started to neatly stack and organize his papers.

“As you know, Miss (L/N), you are one of the two best students we’ve had at this academy recently.”

You shifted your weight awkwardly at the sudden praise. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you began to speak. “I mean, I guess? I wouldn’t go that far, but I suppose that records and the numbers do suggest that I’m performing quite well.” Your professor scowled at your response. You were a bright young woman. You deserved to flaunt it and soak up the praise every once in a while, right? He folded his arms and sighed deeply causing your brain to go into overdrive on how you could rectify the situation. “While pride does come short of a fall, you should learn to take compliments when they’re given, (Y/N). I promise you that you won’t become an egomaniac anytime soon as a result.” He said gently, causing your nerves to subside. Right. Maybe you should just accept compliments. A little self esteem boost never hurt anybody, right? “Thank you, professor, but may I ask why you’re telling me this?” You asked, trying to move the conversation along as politely as you could. You had an hour before you were due to go to the college’s radio station and prepare for this evening’s broadcast. Hopefully, your professor would get to the point so you could quickly grab a bite to eat before you started airing.

“Oh yes, of course! I’m sorry! I said all this to tell you that I have your exam results already. Seeing as how you are the brightest in your class, you finished early, giving me enough time to grade yours while your peers were working. I think that you’ll find the results to your liking, Miss (L/N).” He grinned, handing you a white manila envelope with the school’s insignia printed on the front.

You quirked a brow and opened it. You were then greeted by the name of the school, its motto, and yet another print of the school emblem on the header. Your (E/C) eyes scanned the page until you found what you were looking for:

𝑴𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝑨𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎

𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: (𝑳/𝑵), (𝒀/𝑵)

𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓: 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒎

𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎: 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 21

𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆: 98/100

𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒌:

1 𝒐𝒇 300

You stood there, dumbfounded. The paper you once held gingerly and timidly was wrinkling and threatening to tear under your now iron grip. You were now number one. Somehow, some way, you managed to best Kim Namjoon. Mugunghwa’s already carefully balanced and fragile ecosystem was crumbling around you. What have you done?

“I take it that you’re in shock. I’ll leave you alone to celebrate.” Your professor said smoothly as he slung his coat over his shoulder. “Congratulations, (Y/N). Please enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Uh huh… Will do…” You uttered dumbly.

Mugunghwa National Academy ran on strict rules, but most of them were unspoken. For the sake of your sanity and that of the rest of the student body (and let’s face it, staff, too), you intended to follow those sacred and silent rules to the letter.

Rule Number One: Don’t look in the janitor’s closet near the athletics facilities. You may not come out the same way as you came in.

Rule Number Two: If the cafeteria serves meatloaf, avoid it at all costs. Only eat it if you want to get sick and purposely miss class.

Rule Number Three: Kim Namjoon is the best at everything. He is to be number one until Hell freezes over.

Rule Number Four: In order to keep peace and balance between the nations, (Y/N) (L/N) must always come in second. This is the natural order of things.

You were content with being in second place. To be frank, you preferred to leave the pomp and circumstance of being the top dog to Namjoon. He was more equipped to bear the burden, after all. Besides, it wasn’t like your future career was depending on you being the best. You could skate by with a silver medal and leave Namjoon with the gold. You preferred the look of silver, anyway.

Now look at what you've done. There’s no doubt that the records have been updated by now. Your professor did grade yours early, and it’s reasonable to assume that Namjoon’s was as well. You’d inadvertently torn a hole in the gossamer fabric that was Mugunghwa National Academy. With one exam, you signed the collective death certificate of every other person besides Kim Namjoon himself.

May God have mercy on your wretched soul.

“Young Master, your father would like to have a word with you in his study.” The head butler of the Kim mansion stated simply.

For the second time that day, Namjoon clenched his jaw tightly. He shrugged off his coat and handed it to the older gentleman who was automatically waiting at his side to collect the article of clothing. He hadn’t even gotten through the door and already his father wanted to speak with him. This didn’t bode well.

“Seokjin, did he mention why he’d want to see me?” Namjoon asked dryly. Seokjin simply shook his head and hung his coat on the nearby rack.

“He only mentioned that it was urgent, so I suggest that it would be in your best interest to make it there expeditiously.”

This certainly did not bode well. Kim Joonho was a man of few words. Most would say that he’s the very definition of “actions speak louder than words”. Whenever the CEO of Kim Industries did something, people watched in equal parts starstruck awe and fear. However, when the CEO of Kim Industries deemed something important enough to speak on, there was no choice in the matter. You either listened intently or you perished in more ways than one. This was no different for Joonho’s family. In fact, he was worse to them. Working under the guise of caring for his family, Joonho was more stoic to his wife and children.

Regardless of his debatably righteous intentions, it sent the Kim family into delicately managed dysfunction. Simply put, Kim Joonho never spoke to Namjoon out of wishing to connect with his son on a more personal level. Namjoon was the next heir to Kim Industries. Being his son was an unfortunate side effect.

“Sir, I know that I did implore you to hurry, but-”

“What?” Namjoon growled. His nerves were shot to shit today. Anything that impeded his meeting with his father and his goal to quickly get it over with was met with hostility.

Seeming to understand this, Seokjin cleared his throat and motioned a gloved hand towards the mansion’s threshold.

“You know better than to walk in the house with your shoes still on,” The Kim butler began smoothly as he made his way over to Namjoon to collect his shoes. “I do understand that you are upset, but you shouldn’t let your emotions cloud your judgement so drastically that you forget such basic cultural conventions.”

Namjoon sighed sharply and bit back a retort that was bubbling in his throat. Arguing with Seokjin was pointless. As per usual, he was correct. Engaging in such petty conflicts would only worsen things.

“Right. I suppose I was quite hasty. Thank you.” Namjoon sighed whilst peeling off his shoes.

“I do believe that an apology is in order, Young Master.”

Namjoon was already halfway across the foyer, about to ascend the grand staircase leading to the upper floors when Seokjin’s cheeky remark reached his ears. He felt his blood begin to simmer in his veins and his muscles stiffen.

“The fact that I haven’t fired you by now and ruined any chances of you gaining any further employment should be enough of an apology. You’re treading on thin ice, Seokjin. Remember your place in this world.”

With that, he continued his journey to the final boss room within the Kim family mansion: his father’s study. The last he heard of Seokjin was a sly chuckle and the clicking of his polished leather shoes against the floor. Staff were not guests. Therefore, they were not allowed the privilege of removing their shoes. They were expendable. They needn’t get too comfortable.

Despite how much he detested it, Namjoon couldn’t deny that cold chill of anxiety that frosted his entire body. His father never wanted to talk to him. Ever. He could count on his hands the times that Joonho requested his presence. He could count on only one hand how many times Joonho requested his presence to celebrate his son’s successes. Their relationship was solely professional. There was no love to be found, no matter how hard you read between the lines. Even in as high of a position as Namjoon is in, he is still subservient to his father.

That’s the natural order of things.

“Come in, Namjoon.” Joonho’s voice rang from behind the large mahogany doors.

Almost cartoonishly, the hinges squeaked like Namjoon was uncovering the entrance to a haunted crypt. Namjoon decided long ago that was an eerily apt way of describing his father’s study.

Naturally, Namjoon obeyed his father and entered the room. Dead center, there sat Kim Joonho on his throne. Sitting with perfect posture behind the large oak desk, Joonho stared his son down with cold eyes filled with disdain. How Namjoon desperately wished he could gouge them out with his father’s prized letter opener.

“Don’t waste my time. Have a seat. I don’t have all day.” Joonho snapped.

“Of course. How are you today, father?”

The CEO’s eyes narrowed at his son’s inquiry. “Spare me the niceties, boy. Sit down. We have business to discuss.”

Before Namjoon could interject, Joonho was already reaching into a drawer and produced a white manila envelope. Upon closer inspection, one could see Mugunghwa National Academy’s insignia emblazoned on the front. Once Namjoon was properly seated, he reached out and grabbed the parcel.

“May I ask what this is?” “You may not. You have eyes, boy. Read it for yourself.”

The frigid chill of anxiety was soon being replaced with the molten heat of fury. Some tiny part of Namjoon’s mind was concerned that he would develop a fever at the sudden and constant shifts in his body temperature. That wouldn’t do. He couldn’t afford for his health to decline. That would be another thing for his father to berate him for.

“Of course. My apologies, father.” Namjoon whispered as he undid the envelope’s fastening. Once he did so, he pulled the paper out with an air of nonchalance. Surely, it must have been another letter from the school to congratulate him on some academic achievement he didn’t even realize existed. However, in his eyes and in the eyes of his father, it was the exact opposite.

𝑴𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝑨𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎

𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: 𝑲𝒊𝒎, 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏

𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓: 𝑩𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓(𝒔): 𝑩𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚, 𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎: 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 21

𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆: 96/100

𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒌: 2 𝒐𝒇 300

For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon’s world fell apart before his very eyes. Suddenly the sturdy and imposing columns holding up the large study appeared to crumble around him. The fire that crackled in the fireplace was reduced to nothing but pathetic cinders. He felt the ground split beneath his feet and his father… His father grew to a monstrous size in comparison to his surroundings, suddenly hunched over his son in preparation to strike.

“This must be some mistake! The results must have gotten mixed up! I-”

“Enough!” Joonho boomed. He swiftly slammed his hand down on his desk, successfully frightening his son into silence. “Only children avoid blaming themselves. I thought I taught you to accept responsibility! How dare you blame your inadequacies on the people who made them apparent?!”

Namjoon clenched his fists tightly in his lap and pushed down the urge to go through on his original plan of plucking his father’s eyeballs out.

“Can’t you see? Whoever graded my exam was clearly incompetent. If they had a brain stem, they would know that I am only capable of producing top-class work! Just like you should not be blamed for one measly employee’s mistake, I should not be blamed for the mistake of someone beneath me!” Namjoon exclaimed. Once he finished his spiel, he found himself standing up, but he didn’t remember willing his muscles to do so.

“This entire conversation is pointless. It’s inefficient at best and mind-numbing at its worst! For someone who values time and money more than his own family, I find it quite curious that you’re willing to waste both so frivolously.”

Now, it was Joonho’s turn to clench his jaw and his fists. Despite the utter disdain he felt for the situation, the patriarch had to admit the merit in his son’s retort. His pride would never let him express the sliver of admiration that stirred within him at Namjoon’s courageous display.

Nobody dared talk back to Kim Joonho. That was the natural order of things.

“Regardless of who’s truly at fault, find this (Y/N) (L/N). She usurped your throne, Namjoon. She deserves to be punished for her transgression.”

“Of course. She’s public enemy number one, but she won’t be number one ever again.”

With that, the young master of the Kim household turned his back on the old master and shut the door to the crypt behind him.

“Aaaaaand now, we’re back after our break!” Your co-host chirped from beside you.

The red on-air sign glowed warmly overhead, creating a sense of coziness and heat in the otherwise cold station. You wrapped your cardigan closer around you before adjusting your mic.

“And we’re about to go into our winter break soon. How fitting!” You posited, trying to match your co-host’s energy.

“That’s right! Mugunghwa exams are finally over, and the scores and ranks have already been updated for some! Care to talk about that, (Y/N)?” Taehyung, your co-host, wiggled his sharp eyebrows in his quest to prod for information.

Normally, his rectangular grin and bright eyes would warm your heart. Today, however, you wanted to punch that devilish smirk right off of him. You should have known that Tae would have suddenly caught wind of your latest academic achievement. He’s the university’s most involved (read: nosiest) student.

“Not really… But you won’t shut up until I do, so…” You sighed as you spun around in your swivel chair. Once you stopped your cycle, you scooted closer to the microphone and cleared your throat. “I got a 98 on the exam. My professor stopped me after class and told me the news.”

Not that anyone but you and the sound director, Yoongi, would see it, but Taehyung’s impish smile turned into a disappointed pout. “Ah, listen to our (Y/N). Always dodging the important questions. Such a tease!”

You shoved him gently and laughed at his comment before shaking your head. “This guy… To everyone who dreams of dating him, work with him first. You’ll see how much of a horrible person he is.”

“Yah! That’s slander! Aren’t journalists supposed to avoid that?”

“I’ll kick your ass.” You licked your lips and began to answer the original question in further detail. “Yeah, so… Anyway, I got a 98 and I guess that warranted me becoming number one…?”

Both Taehyung and Yoongi’s faces dropped. From his booth, you could see Yoongi grimace and in your peripheral, you saw Tae stiffen.

“Up next is Still With You by our resident golden boy Jeon Jungkook. We’ll be back soon. Stay tuned.”

Suddenly, the on-air sign was turned off. The song began to play and Taehyung immediately gripped your shoulders.

“You what?!” Taehyung nearly screeched. “(Y/N), do you have any idea what this means?!” “That I took Kim Namjoon’s place and sent the fragile society of Mugunghwa into ruin? Yeah, I do.” Tae blinked for a moment. “No… Although, that does make sense. That seems way more important than what I was gonna say. Huh.”

You were actually going to punch the shit out of him. “Dude, what?”

“Listen, this is your chance! You can finally get recognized as the top-tier person that you are! As long as you were under Kim’s big, goofy shadow, you were going to be pushed aside! Now you can show everyone here how cool you are!”

You felt your throat tighten. That all-too-familiar sensation of a goose egg being lodged in your esophagus rose. You were going to cry. How you desperately wished that you could view the world like Taehyung did. How you longed to see the silver lining of every situation just like he did. All you saw was destruction and despair. All you felt was guilt for damning the entire student body to some cruel fate that only Kim Namjoon could dish out.

“Tae, I love you, but you don’t fucking get it! I’m screwed! We’re all screwed! I broke two of the sacred rules of this school! Kim Namjoon must always be first! I must always be second! I just sentenced everyone to death!”

Taehyung raised a brow, as if what you were saying were the incoherent ramblings of a mad woman. “You describe my cousin like he’s some heinous demon.” Even the usually passive Yoongi had to straighten his spine and widen his eyes at this revelation.

“He’s your cousin?!”

Tae leaned back in his seat with yet another smirk. This time, you couldn’t put a finger on the emotion this specific lift of his lips held. “Isn’t the resemblance obvious? The Kim line has some strong genes. It’s been that way since the Joseon era, I’ve been told.”

Ignoring the historical implications for why such strong genes would still be present thousands of years later (assuming that Taehyung was actually serious), you hurried the conversation along. Jungkook’s silky voice had faded away a while ago, leaving the two of you with little to no time left before it was time to open the floor to callers. This was your last chance to get some useful information about Namjoon before you were dragged into what you knew was going to be a relentless storm of phone calls and incredulous screeches at the news.

Like you had said before, you’d damned everyone. Who wouldn’t want to yell at the person that had the audacity to send an entire population into ruin?

“Get to the point, Taehyung. You’re telling me that you’re related to Satan himself? And I’ve been your co-host for how long?!” You near screeched.

Tae’s ambiguous smirk was now replaced with a blank expression. “I didn’t think it mattered, (Y/N). Why does it even matter now? If there’s a bigger issue here, I think you’re dodging it.”

You froze. He was right. For as long as you knew him, Taehyung had this uncanny ability to pick people apart and leave them vulnerable in an instant. This was especially effective on you, you’ve come to realize. The funny thing was that you hadn’t realized that you were employing tactics to postpone the inevitable inundation of accusatory and furious phone calls being thrown your way. Deep down, you always hated confrontation. Until Taehyung uttered those words, you hadn’t realized how deep that hatred and aversion was ingrained.

“Damn. You’re...good… I guess I am avoiding things. Let’s just get this over with. If we hold it off any longer, things will get worse.” You muttered as you looked towards Yoongi’s booth, motioning for him to put you both back on air.

Taehyung placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and flashed his signature boxy smile. “You don’t even know what they’re going to say. Who knows? News of your latest accomplishment may have brought the (Y/N) (L/N) Official Fanclub out of hiding. I bet that there are going to be several callers professing their undying love for you!”

“Their what now?” You asked dumbly.

Taehyung placed a hand on his heart and slipped into a persona reminiscent of the male protagonist of one the many romance dramas that were plastered on television nowadays. His deep voice rumbled the soundproof padding on the walls and wrapped you in its velvety embrace.

“(Y/N), I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I’ve struggled with these emotions for so long, but news of your success has given me the courage to confess them. I can’t quite make heads or tails of them, but I want to explore them all with you…” Not that anyone but you and Yoongi could see the exchange, but Taehyung gently cupped your chin with his large hand and looked longingly into your eyes. “That is, if you’d let me.”

Silence. Then raucous laughter from you and Taehyung. (Yoongi was visibly cringing in his booth.) You expected nothing less from the theater major, but you couldn’t help the delicate fluttering that began in your stomach. Was this the fabled Taehyung Effect at work? The two of you turned to your microphones and opened the floor to callers, as per usual for this segment of your show. What was highly unusual, however, was the heartfelt “confession” that was unwittingly broadcasted to everyone tuned in. Unbeknownst to everyone, the red on-air sign shone above your heads, serving as a beacon or perhaps an unfortunately ignored warning. A warning that your lighthearted joke wasn’t going to be a joke to some.

A warning that the harbinger of doom himself was listening in… A warning that he had now collected leverage over his new enemy… A warning that he was going to destroy you, even if he had to use his own relative to do it. He would surely add this to his rapidly growing arsenal of schemes.

The next day, the very air at Mugunghwa was different. Somehow, despite being the enigmatic second-place student, everyone instinctively knew to distance themselves from you. Biologically speaking, humans were still animals, despite the staunch separation that was created over time. There was still a basal instinct to survive. In this case, that instinct screamed, “Get away from the brainlet that dared to tip the scales and anger Kim Namjoon.” You didn’t blame anyone for their decision. You couldn’t. You’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite if you did, and you didn’t want “hypocrite” to be engraved on your tombstone next to “cold-blooded killer”.

Everywhere you walked, people watched you intently with eyes filled with either fear, confusion, or disgust. You could hear thinly-veiled whispers as you passed your fellow students.

“There she is.”

“She’s surprisingly pretty. I expected some ugly broad to be under Namjoon’s shadow.”

Ah, yes. You had forgotten your previously fairly secretive life before the shoe dropped. You were content with living under the radar. After all, it kept the vicious rumors of the poor girl who by hook or crook got her way into an elite university on a full-ride scholarship at bay. As long as you held the number two spot, nobody cared about you. News of your arrival and subsequent theories surrounding it were just a fad that most people shortly moved on from. The drastic and sudden change from peaceful irrelevance to hostile notoriety made you nauseous.

The cold air nipped at your flesh while you made your way to the library. Fresh snow made its satisfying crunching sound as you sped towards your destination. Wait. Sped? Only when you looked down at your feet did you realize that your steps were quicker than usual. Needless to say, you were confused at this revelation. Were things really this bad? Why was your body subconsciously hurrying you along when no danger was immediately present? Then, it hit you: If the Kim Taehyung Effect caused your insides to flutter and your heart melt with glee, the Kim Namjoon Effect caused everyone to cower and hide in pure horror. Maybe it ran in the family. After all, the two were related. How that crucial detail managed to slip past you was beyond human understanding.

Soon enough, you made your way into the campus library. Warmth enveloped you and thawed your chilled skin with each step into the large building. The tall bookshelves that towered over you and the other patrons made you feel safe. The walls of knowledge served as barriers from the predatory glares that were shot your way anywhere else. Here, while not entirely forbidden, hushed insults and remarks were more so. The library was your sanctuary when the dormitories weren’t, and with all the girls and even your RA avoiding you like the plague, it was safe to say that your dorm wasn’t very inviting right now.

Whatever it took, you needed to get your mind off of the Namjoon business. Sitting down in the warm silence served to do just that. You absentmindedly wandered through the various sections of the building. The nutty scent of someone’s morning brew filled your nostrils on your journey, easily putting you at ease in an instant. The rhythmic click-clack of someone's fingers against a computer keyboard kept your body grounded to the Earth. It served as a nice tether and protection from your thoughts that threatened to whisk you away into the stratosphere with every step you took.

Your feet took you past the reference section, the nonfiction section, and even the genealogy section before making its final stop at the fiction section. When you first started college, you found it odd that a library carried such books, but you soon came to realize that an escape into another world was appreciated by everyone. A love for fiction did not have an age limit.

You found yourself engrossed in a high fantasy novel by one Bang Sihyuk. (A very talented author, you decided. You made a note to look into some of his other works when you weren’t staring death in the face.) The sweet sound of yet another page turning and revealing more of the lore slowed your racing heart. The subtle smell of ink and glue softened your muscles, willing them to relax into the plush chair. The floor lamp next to you glowed softly and turned the usually stark clash of pitch black lettering against white pages into a mellow brown against cream parchment.

Even if you knew you had to face the wolves outside your sanctuary eventually, you still savored the solace you had in that moment. What you never considered was that those halcyon days were going to soon fall into utter ruin and despair with a singular human-shaped silhouette.

Everywhere Namjoon went, eyes followed. The air around him crackled with apprehension, but he couldn’t care less if he tried. This was natural. The pitiful prey animals around scrambled away for dear life, functioning solely on the fleeting notion that sticking around would spell their demise. Most of the people here were college students beginning their prime. They couldn’t afford to wither away… Not yet, at least… And certainly not here.

Stifled gasps laced with fear and admiration threatened to strangle the poor Kim heir. How he so desperately wished that they would all shut up! The constant buzzing murmur felt like mosquitoes tiptoeing across his skin during the hot and balmy summer months. It was highly annoying, to say the least.

His piercing mocha eyes landed on a target. A mousy figure was dwarfed by Namjoon’s taller and muscular frame. Pair the size difference with his steely and—arguably murderous—gaze fixed on the piteous male before him, both parties were surprised that the smaller student didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

“I would stay to chat, but I have important business to attend to,” Namjoon began. The timbre of his voice seeped into the small man’s bones and rattled them with each syllable. “You obviously know something, or else you wouldn’t be so pathetically fearful.”

The other male gulped audibly. His dull brown eyes stared into Namjoon’s vibrant cocoa ones. His pupils contracted as a cold sweat formed on his forehead and neck. Deep down, he knew that one wrong move would send him spiraling into horrors unimaginable. This was Kim Namjoon he was dealing with. He only had one chance.

“I don’t know w-what you’re talking about…” He squeaked.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes with clear annoyance and disgust for the situation and the animal shivering before him. This caused the mousy man to gasp sharply.

“Tell me where (Y/N) (L/N) is. It’s a simple request. Even someone of your calibre should be capable of such a mundane task.” Namjoon stated simply. Disdain bled through his words into his tone and seeped into his prey’s already paper-thin psyche.

With a trembling arm, the rodent (as Namjoon decided to call him) pointed in the direction of the campus library. Of course you would be there. It made his blood boil to think that you’d already be in the library after receiving news of your latest feat. Anyone else would be a fool to risk losing such an honor. Studying was the only way to cement your new station as Mugunghwa’s new number one.

Without so much as a half-assed utter of thanks, Namjoon strode off in the direction of the large building. He was so hyper-focused on cutting you down and ensuring that you wouldn’t be a problem again that the signature thud of a body against snow missed his attention completely. The concerned and shocked gasps of onlookers didn’t affect him either.

Soon enough, he was at his destination. The same book-filled shelves and walls that greeted you greeted him at the entrance. Upon seeing his figure, the librarian at the circulation desk straightened in order to greet Namjoon properly. ‘At least one person here knew their place.’ He thought to himself.

“I’m looking for (Y/N) (L/N). It’d be in your best interest to point me in her direction as quickly as possible, Jimin.” Namjoon stated coolly with a tinge of nonchalance. Although he was painfully aware of the importance his little scouting mission served, his seemingly apathetic tone was the result of having said the same thing over and over like a broken record. The sooner he found you and got you to bend the knee, the sooner he could return home to his own studies.

The librarian, Jimin, nodded and swiftly pointed towards the fiction section. His mug of hazelnut coffee threatened to spill at the sudden and crisp motion. “She went that way, towards the fiction books.” He stated plainly. Namjoon couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his features. Jimin was always such an attentive servant.

Ever since that little incident before Mugunghwa’s annual recital, the dance major felt a deep sense of allegiance towards the older male. He had to. Namjoon was the only reason Park Jimin was able to continue his dream of becoming a world-class dancer, and it was made abundantly clear that what Kim Namjoon giveth, he can just as easily taketh away. Poor Jimin had no idea why you were being sought out by the most powerful student at the university, but he couldn’t help but suppress the gnawing sensation that he was leading you to a painful end.

Once again, forgoing a thank you, Namjoon began the final stretch of his arduous journey to find you and finally set things right in the world. The only issue was that he had no idea who he was looking for, exactly.

Oddly enough, despite your status, you had managed to keep a low profile. Very few people actually knew what you looked like. Hell, your student profile didn’t even have an image of you posted. In fact, the only way people outside of your direct circle of cohorts started to gather what you looked like was because the web connecting (Y/N) (L/N), radio show host and journalism major and (Y/N) (L/N), former number two was finally starting to weave itself. As far as most of the student body was concerned, you were nothing but a faceless placeholder image against a drab gray background. It wouldn’t have surprised Namjoon if you actually walked around with the words, “NO IMAGE AVAILABLE” permanently marked on your body. What he saw, however, was beyond his own comprehension.

There you were, his enemy, his prey. You sat idly in the large cushioned chair with your book nestled delicately in your hands. For the moment, you were blissfully unaware of the danger that loomed nearby. This was almost too easy. Almost as if your presence unlocked a vault to all his plans to destroy you, you looked at him.

And then his world changed. He almost felt sick at the sudden rush of sensory input his brain was forced to parse through. The previously unsaturated hall roared to life with colors he hadn’t even seen before. Warm browns, reds, and hues of every other name shot into Namjoon’s retinas upon gazing at your graceful form. This was (Y/N) (L/N)? This hidden gem? He was meant to demolish this?

He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon was rendered speechless. His heart began to beat in double-time. If his biological functions were a musical piece, this specific section’s tempo marking would be prestissimo. Beyond vivace, beyond presto.

He couldn’t take it, so for the first time ever, Kim Namjoon ran away.

You didn’t dare move. Fear wrapped its spindly fingers around your heart and clutched it in its icy grasp. You didn’t have to move your eyes off of the page to see who the shadow cast onto it belonged to. Deep down, you knew.

Goddamn it.

You just knew.

Just when you gathered the courage to face your doom head on, he was gone.

“What the fuck…?” You whispered. Your fantasy novel fell to the ground on its spine with a soft thud. Was this it? Were you officially losing it? Was stress causing you to hallucinate and see literal shadow people?! That was it.

Not wanting to have a literal breakdown in the middle of the library, you honed your senses in on the now cold-smelling coffee nearby. The faint hazelnut blend managed to at least tether you down to reality once more. You took a deep breath. Everything was now in focus. You had to leave, you decided. So that’s what you did.

If the library’s other patrons noticed the shocked, glazed over look in your eyes, nobody said anything. You had just come in contact with the menace. You were lucky to be alive. There’s no need to add insult to injury by inquiring about your current situation. Wordlessly, you ambled out of the library door. Jimin’s small eyes followed your every movement until you were finally out of his line of sight.

Soon enough, you made it to your dorm room. Oddly enough, it felt like you’d walked through a wormhole and warped to the private space. It appears that moving effortlessly through time and space was an eerily common theme that day. Not wishing to dwell on it any further, you plummeted onto your bed and let a dreamless sleep whisk you away from all your troubles.

A month had passed since your clandestine encounter with Namjoon. Surprisingly enough, after the first week or so of living in terror, the foreboding feeling of doom had all but disappeared. Like a colony of ants rebuilding their anthill after a sudden rainstorm, so too did Mugunghwa National Academy rebuild anew. As Thanksgiving rolled into Christmas, the student body had learned to accept that you were now at the top of the food chain. The status quo had shifted in your favor. Students that would previously mutter curses after you passed by would suddenly wave amicably once they noticed your presence.

While the sudden lack of hostility was appreciated, you couldn’t help but notice how shallow the whole situation was. A faint sense of disgust settled at the pit of your stomach. Or was it foreboding, after all? After your encounter with Namjoon’s shadow at the library, the Kim Industries heir had disappeared suddenly. He had disappeared without a trace. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. His scores were still updated regularly; his name was still in the mouths of every man, woman, and child that walked across campus; and you swore that you saw his tall figure slither like a snake behind buildings and shrubbery one time after class. While there was solid proof that he still (at the very least) resided within this plane of existence, Kim Namjoon had achieved cryptid status. Just a month ago, he was the dark overlord that ruled Mugunghwa with an iron fist. Now, he was merely a relic of the past, a name synonymous with the Boogeyman. Kim Namjoon was now used to scare freshmen like tales of a monster under one’s bed were used to frighten young children.

The truth, like all things are, was much more complicated than that. After he met you, his goddess, at the library, Namjoon spiraled out of control. Nothing was the same for him. At first, it was a fleeting rush of endorphins, he had decided. Perhaps the sense of victory he felt after finding his long lost rival caused his brain to go into overdrive with glee. With that in mind, he returned home to lick his wounds and rewrite his battle plans.

The next day, everything seemed normal enough. His world was in grayscale once more. Individuals who weren’t of direct importance to him retained their distorted, blob-like features. His senses were mostly dulled once again… Until you appeared. You walked across campus with grace that put the supermodels that his father regularly “worked with” to shame. To be honest, they looked like pitiful crows with snapped legs when put up against your stork-like elegance.

His previously unsaturated world regained its color. His heart rate increased, warmth filled his veins as a result. Everything was crisply in focus when it came to you. For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon was terrified… But that’s what intrigued him all the more. Once you left his sight, however, the blooming colors vanished. Everything was blurred again. The warmth had died and left him empty, hollow, and cold. After a few days of this occurrence, Namjoon made his biggest realization yet: he was in love with you.

He was quick to write it off as pure lust. After all, remaining at the top didn’t leave much time for him to indulge in more carnal pleasures. Hell, the only thing he could remember slamming on a table on doing all night long was homework, as old and pathetic as the joke was. Namjoon was a dashing, intelligent young man beginning to reach his prime. Abstaining from such a primal and basic need wasn’t good for him. With that in mind, he immediately began his conquest.

First, it started with the models his father would fuck behind his mother’s back. Despite how carefully manufactured their appearances were, they didn’t quench his thirst. In fact, they enraged Namjoon to the point where it wasn’t uncommon for the women to leave his bedroom bruised the next morning. This charade went on for much too long until he’d had enough.

No other woman could set his heart aflame without even trying. No other woman could bring life to his distorted and achromatic world like you could. So he tried a man. Several men, in fact. He got so desperate that not even his little Park Jimin was safe from his ravenous clutches.

Nothing. Nothing had worked.

Now, as the clock struck midnight in his grand bedroom, Namjoon sat in his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. He’d been so on edge for the longest time, yet nothing he did could stir him. So, he did the only thing he knew how… Thoughts of you filled his mind as he ghosted a finger across his limp member. The warmth he felt was returning once more…

“Namjoon! There you are! I’ve been so lonely… Don’t you know that I’ve missed you?”

There you were in the Kim manor’s living room. A black silk robe hugged your form perfectly as you bounded over to him. Golden sunlight filtered through the curtains and cast you in its heavenly warm glow. Your (E/C) eyes peered up at him with such admiration, lust, and most importantly, love. Before he could even properly process the scene, you had him enveloped in the warmest hug imaginable.

Namjoon felt a rush of lust and blood shoot straight to his dick.

“I know, darling… But I’m here now. We can be together. I’m all yours from now on.” He replied smoothly.

Namjoon didn’t even think it possible for your eyes to shine any brighter, but they did. And they were all for him. Your eyes, your beautiful eyes, for his eyes only… He gently caressed your cheek, careful not to mark it. The time for leaving marks and bruises would come later on…

“Really?” You asked. Your entire face lit with hope and wonder. “You mean it? Please don’t tease me, baby~. I don’t know what I’d do if you had to go so soon…”

You buried yourself into him, as if you knew that your home was within his embrace. He relished in it. He really did…

Namjoon felt feverish. His hands got to work immediately. Visions of you nestled against him, starlit eyes gazing into his, your form undulating beneath him as he pounded into you with everything he had. Your ecstatic moans and gasps filled his ears and mind, creating a carnal symphony only you could compose.

Sweat beaded on his temples, his arms beginning to burn with exhaustion as they continued to bring him to completion. Musical, “I love you, Namjoon”s and “Please! I’m so close, baby! Fuck me!”s began to crescendo rapidly. The world around him went from a gentle warmth to a blazing inferno. Colors reached their maximum saturation. Namjoon’s heart began to beat erratically. This was it. This was it! This is what he needed!

“Yes, (Y/N). You’re so good to me! Take it! Take it!!”

With an animalistic roar, Namjoon shot his seed. It coated his body and even his blanket that he pushed aside in his lustful fever. The fireworks came to a close. His jagged breaths began to even themselves out. The angels stopped singing. He was alone once more… But he wouldn’t be for long.

Tears filled Namjoon’s vision as he looked at his clock. Time wasn’t important anymore… But you were. He was going to have you, and he was going to become number one again. Kim Namjoon was going to be your number one.

Just like that, the year of terror had come and gone. Now, a new year was upon you and another December along with it. You stared up at your dorm room’s ceiling with a dumb smile etched on your face. After all, that was the only expression you could possibly muster, given the circumstances.

“Damn… What the hell happened to me?” Was all you managed to say as you turned onto your side. Your phone in hand, you scrolled through your photo gallery almost absentmindedly until you reached one particular photo. There you were at a carnival with the Devil incarnate, Kim Namjoon. Your eyes bright with glee at the large plush you held in one arm as you posed with Namjoon for a selfie.

You chuckled and zoomed in on the image with a wistful smirk. While you stared ahead at the camera, Namjoon stared at you with an expression that you didn’t even know that he possessed: pure, unadulterated admiration. You were almost inclined to call it love.

The past year and some change was a whirlwind. Your earliest memory of it consisted of finally coming to terms with the ecosystem at Mugunghwa, only to be faced with Namjoon and your whole world coming down. Students and staff alike scurried away from the dining area, not wanting to be a witness to a crime. You had gained new friends over the course of these months. They simply couldn’t stand to see your last moments on this earth in complete agony.

However, your death never came. Namjoon stood proudly in the now empty cafeteria, as if he relished in the fact that he could clear a room without uttering a single word.

“(Y/N) (L/N). It’s so good to finally put a name to a face… And what a lovely face it is…”

If Namjoon wasn’t going to kill you, the water lodged in your windpipe at his words would. You sputtered, hands waving as you choked on your water. Suddenly, Namjoon came behind you and swiftly patted your back. Once you could breathe again, you wiped at your tear-filled eyes and peered up at him. “I’m sorry… What?”

Namjoon returned to his original position in front of you with a smirk. Pulling out a chair, he sat down with the practiced air of a businessman about to make a deal. “I called you beautiful. I do hope that wasn’t too forward.”

Now, you were suspicious. Satan himself had saved you from choking and was now calling you attractive? Were you dead? Did you imagine Namjoon helping you as a last-ditch effort to survive somehow? Was that the image your brain created as you slipped away into the world of the dead? But this was reality. Something deep down told you that you weren’t dying or dreaming.

“Forgive my skepticism, but I highly doubt that you came to exchange compliments. What do you want, Kim Namjoon?” You asked icily. The male in front of you visibly recoiled at your tone, as if he didn’t factor in the possibility that you could speak with such a tone. He quickly recovered, however, and he began his pitch.

“You’re half right, (Y/N). I didn’t come here to only compliment you, but I came here to have a discussion that is long overdue. At my core, I am a businessman. I make deals, I negotiate. That’s what I’m here to do.” Namjoon stated simply. Looking deeply into his eyes, he didn’t show any signs of insincerity, but that’s to be expected. He’s been trained his entire life to hiding his true intentions behind an amicable facade, regardless of how nefarious his plans may or may not be.

“I see… What is it that you wish to discuss? I’m afraid that I’m not as well-versed in business etiquette as you, so please forgive me for any mistakes or slip-ups that I may make. That being said, this is not an invitation to walk all over me. I may be inexperienced, but I am by no means an idiot.”

Could you be any more perfect for him? A beautiful face and body, poise and grace, and the courage to hold her own in a negotiation? Not to mention, the colors were swirling around you and blooming delicately in such a comforting fashion. He was absolutely smitten.

“I wouldn’t dare make the mistake of calling someone who replaced me as top dog an idiot. Give me some credit. I’m not as vile as the university’s tall tales make me out to be. I’m sure that my cousin, Taehyung, could vouch for me.”

You bristled at the mention of Taehyung. What had he done to him? Did something happen? No, that couldn’t be. You had just finished your show with Tae only a half hour ago. Surely, that isn’t enough time for him to get into any trouble, right?

“Calm down, (Y/N). Nothing’s happened to him. I can see the wheels turning in your head. My cousin is safe and sound. I can even call him up for you, if you don’t believe me.” Namjoon said smoothly, already fishing his phone out of his designer coat’s pocket.

“No, that’s fine…” You swallowed and regained your composure. Once you were calmed down, you returned Namjoon’s gaze. “I’m sure he’s alright. If anything, I’ll call him later. Right now, this is more important.”

Namjoon put his phone away and leaned back in his chair whilst giving a dismissive wave of his hand. Hopefully, the display of nonchalance would mask the sheer excitement and feverish nervousness he felt from being so close to you. Hearing your voice was like hearing the soothing melodies of birdsong in the morning. His heart soared at the mere act of being in your presence.

“Very well. I came here to apologize. You see, I’m well aware of the distress to you and everyone here at Mugunghwa that I’ve caused, and for that, I’m sorry.”

You could have died right there. Kim Namjoon? Apologizing? And apologizing to you, no less?! The infamous heir to Kim Industries, known for the downfall of any and everyone who dared impede his goals was apologizing to you?!

“Please, (Y/N). Forgive me. It’s just that losing to you has put my life into perspective. Yes, I was the head of our class, but what did that mean? Why was I fighting so hard to keep a title that in the long run, means so little? What was the point if I had no one to share it with?”

“What the hell are you getting at, Kim? I fail to see what this has to do with conducting business.”

As precious as you were to him, Namjoon despised your tone. If you were to be his, that sharp tongue would have to be dealt with. Besides, in that instant, you reminded him of his lowlife father. That certainly wouldn’t do. His queen should never adopt the mannerisms of Kim Joonho. Never. Ever. You were to whisper sweet nothings into his ear while he reciprocated. You were to never take such a tone with him ever again.

“I was rambling, so I’ll forgive that insolent remark of yours just this once. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Namjoon stated darkly.

Not wanting to push your luck, you relented. You were actually talking to Kim Namjoon. You couldn’t afford to ruin an opportunity like this.

“Right.” He resumed “The truth is that I’ve been watching you for quite some time. Honestly, that’s all I can ever do anymore. You’ve occupied every inch of my mind, and I just wanted to ask if you’d be mine, (Y/N).”

You sat there, slack-jawed. Was he serious?! What was happening?

“You’re joking… There’s no way that you could be serious. There’s no fucking way!”

“I am. I’ve done some soul-searching recently, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you are what I’ve been fighting for all this time. Not a damn class rank. I’ve been fighting for love, affection, understanding… And I believe that I can find all of that in you.”

“You… What…? I- How?”

“February 14, a dozen red roses were waiting for you on your desk in your dorm. With them, was a card addressed to you from a secret admirer. March 14, a diamond necklace was gifted to you for White Day by a secret admirer. And now, these.”

Namjoon produced a stack of envelopes bound by a black silk ribbon from his jacket pocket.

“These are from me. You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). Can you tell me who your secret admirer is?”

That was April. After a few talks with your co-host and having to sit through embarrassing stories of their childhoods, you finally took the leap and went out on a date with Namjoon… And you were the happiest you’ve ever been. The large stuffed animal that Namjoon had won you sat on a bookshelf, next to several other trinkets he had given you over the months you had dated.

You chuckled to yourself at the memory and closed your photos app. After which, you opened up your messaging app to shoot a quick text to Namjoon. That was until, you got a notification reading,

KIM INDUSTRIES CEO, KIM JOONHO FOUND DEAD IN HIS WINTER ESTATE.

Without thinking, you dialed Namjoon’s number and was greeted by a somber moan answering the phone.

“Namjoon, baby, I’m so sorry… I just saw the news.”

A sniff. “Hey. So the news outlets already published the story, huh? I should have known that it wouldn’t take long… They could at least have the common decency of letting his corpse grow cold first before they publicize it.” Namjoon chuckled humorlessly.

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t imagine going through the sudden shock of losing your parent, only to deal with the press soon afterward. You sensed that Namjoon needed some time to himself to grieve, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

“Yeah, it’s shitty what they’re doing. And to think that I’m going into that profession. It’s crazy.”

“It is what it is, (Y/N). Besides, I have faith that you’ll be one of the good journalists that don’t try to weave everything that they hear into lies and defamation.” He said earnestly.

Something about the way Namjoon spoke was unnerving. He didn’t sound like someone who was mourning their late father, but then again, he might have been in shock. His apathetic demeanor on the matter must have been a coping mechanism. After all, losing your father so suddenly is a lot to process.

All you could do is hum in response. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I know so, dear.”

A pregnant pause.

“Hey, (Y/N). I know this sounds horribly insensitive, but, can we still have our dinner date at my mansion? It’s just that I can’t bear to be alone right now, and you’re the only person I’ve been able to trust lately. It doesn’t have to be a date. I guess I just want you to come over.”

Your heart shattered into smithereens. He was alone and scared. Namjoon had no one to trust or turn to in his time of need, yet he found it within his heart to ask you. Who were you to refuse?

“Alright. I’ll go. Same time?”

He didn’t have to say a word, but you could hear his dimpled smile some out to play.

“Y-yes, yes, of course! Same time! Thank you so much, (Y/N). You don’t know how much this means to me. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Alright, see you soon. Bye.”

You hung up the phone with a sigh and faced your closet. You had exactly two hours to get ready for dinner. You had two hours to prepare…

And so did Namjoon.

Once again, Namjoon was summoned to his father’s study. He was expecting it sooner or later. His class rank hadn’t improved since his father sent him to take his top spot back by any means necessary, but you were number one now. Namjoon wouldn’t dare dethrone his goddess from her rightful pedestal.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was upon opening the large doors a swift slap coming across his face.

“You useless, useless brat! You can’t even eliminate a simple girl?! You can’t even reclaim your title?! How am I supposed to leave my estate and company in such incapable hands?!”

Joonho was fuming. His once pride and joy had betrayed him and disappointed him. How dare he? Namjoon sat on the floor, gingerly rubbing his cheek. He was sure his father’s handprint was burned into his flesh.

“I swear, you’re incompetent just like your brother! He disappointed me, and look at where he is now! I should have known that it was too good to be true.”

At the mention of his brother, Namjoon’s body stiffened.

“All of this. You’re ruining your life and your career all for some girl?! You’re willing to throw away what I’ve essentially bred you for, all for some lowlife pussy?!”

At the mention of you, Namjoon began to see red.

“I suppose I’ve been too lenient on you. I should have known that you would flounder. Maybe I’ll get rid of (Y/N) myself. It’s clear that she means a lot to you. Maybe you’ll get back in line once she perishes.”

That was the final straw. With pure rage fueling his every cell, Namjoon sprinted over to his father’s desk and grabbed his letter opener.

“Say it again, bastard! Say it again!”

Now, Joonho’s figure was dissolving into a crimson blob. All of his human like features were gone in a furious red haze. Kim Joonho wasn’t his father anymore. He wasn’t even human.

He was the enemy.

Without giving his father a chance to speak, Namjoon plunged the letter opener into the older man’s eye sockets. After that, it was a blur. Hours had seemingly passed and Kim Joonho was nothing but a human pincushion. Stab wounds littered his body, and blood was oozing out of every one. With a satisfied grin, Namjoon stood and cupped a crimson hand to his face.

“Seokjin! Seokjin! Come down here!”

The head butler rushed in the study and into the carnage. The older male was mortified at the bloodbath before him, but he couldn’t help the relieved smile and tears of joy forming in his tear ducts.

“Brother, come help me clean up father. Unless, of course, you have some words for him?”

Seokjin carefully approached his father’s corpse and smiled wickedly. He placed a gloved hand on his eyeless face.

“You’ve disappointed me, Joonho. And now look where that’s brought you. My transgressions against you warranted that I were to be stripped of my place in the world as your son, only to become your servant. Your transgressions warranted your death at the hands of your prodigy. Isn’t that poetic justice? Sleep well, father.”

“Master Namjoon will be down in a moment.” A maid stated as she had you seated.

A white cloth napkin was folded and placed on your lap while you got comfortable in the antique dining chair. Staff hurried to and fro to finish preparing for your meal, and it was almost amusing seeing them rush around like busy worker bees instead of the esteemed staff of the Kim Manor.

A few moments ticked away before Namjoon made his appearance. He was elegantly clad in a designer Armani suit, giving a regal and princely appearance as he made his way over to you from the grand foyer.

“Please forgive me, dear. I had some business to attend to.”

Namjoon outstretched his arms, motioning for you to give him a hug. You happily obliged.

“Namjoon! There you are! I’ve been so lonely… Don’t you know that I’ve missed you?” You cheekily giggled. If you ignored the whole dead dad situation, the whole scene would appear wholesomely domestic. You decided to indulge in that notion.

Namjoon’s breath hitched.

“I’m sorry that I’ve kept you waiting. I hope that we can make up for lost time during dinner, yeah?”

You nodded and sat down in your chair. Namjoon was seated right beside you. As if on cue, the staff brought in your dishes. A classic Christmas dinner, consisting of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, ham, and vegetables was placed in front of you. On a small dish nearby, some cranberry jelly sat. You tried to hide the grimace at the red jelly. You were by no means a fan of the garnish, but you didn’t want to appear picky or ungrateful, especially considering the reason why you were having dinner with Namjoon in the first place.

Ever the attentive partner, Namjoon was keen on noticing your inner turmoil. “Is something not to your liking?”

“Uh, it’s just… I don’t really like cranberry jelly… That’s all.”

Namjoon looked utterly dumbfounded before letting out a joyful, booming laugh. “That’s all? Oh, (Y/N). You had me worried! I thought that I’d ruined the whole meal for you!”

His fork stabbed into a piece of turkey and he dipped the meat into the red gelatin.

“But, please do try the jelly. My brother and I, we made it for this occasion. I promise it’s nothing like the canned slop they sell in grocery stores.”

Namjoon made this? Now, this you had to try.

“Alright. Since you went through the effort of making it, I’ll give it a shot.”

You copied Namjoon’s actions of taking a slice of turkey and dipping it in the cranberry jelly. With the expression of a chef on Chopped, Namjoon eagerly watched as you placed the food in your mouth.

“Mmm! This is delicious! Namjoon, you should sell this! This is amazing!”

Another laugh came from Namjoon, although, this one had an arguably maniacal lilt. “Why, thank you, but I’m afraid that this specific batch is one of a kind. Besides, cranberry jelly isn’t the most profitable market out there.”

Little did you know that you had just ingested Kim Joonho’s coagulated blood. Perhaps that was why his cranberry jelly was one of a kind.

Merry Christmas.

#bwcssy2

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worldwidemochiguy · 4 years

Text

expectation ≠ reality (18+)

When you first met Jungkook, he was so kind, with wide eyes and a sweet smile, but soon enough he dragged you into a tumultuous marriage where you were barely allowed to draw breath on your own. But, when you meet Taehyung, the cute delivery boy with blond hair and a penchant for flirting, you start to wonder if you’ve found your second chance.

Masterlist

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour, slight dub-con, graphic penetrative sex, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE A MINOR pls im not tryna get arrested or anything

Word Count: 4K

a/n: thanks to @gucieguciekook for requesting !! hope u enjoy lol <3

Expectation ≠ Reality

You have had enough.

From the moment you agreed to marry him, Jungkook had been getting steadily worse and worse. He had always been possessive to a fault, but you mistakenly saw it as a sign he truly cared and treasured you. You cooed over his obsession with littering hickeys all over your neck, blushed when he called you ‘Mine. Only mine.’ When he asked you to move in way too quickly, you thought it was a sign he was committed to your relationship.

How wrong you were.

Not that he isn’t committed, of course. God, if there was ever a word to describe Jeon Jungkook, it was committed. He is obsessed with you. He slowly started cutting you off from the outside world, persuading you to stay in when your friends invited you out, and convincing you they were terrible people when they inevitably stopped interacting with you. You had cut out everyone else in your life because of him.

Your parents:

babe, they don’t approve of our relationship because they don’t want you to be happy with your own life, they want to control you and treat you like a kid. you don’t need them anyway, you have me.

Your coworkers:

i called in sick for you today, babe. you don’t need to go there anymore, i have more than enough money for the both of us.

Even your pet:

your cat? oh, i’m sorry baby, she got hit by a car. no, don’t cry, baby, now you can give all of your attention to me instead of that rancid furball.

Jungkook had isolated you and exhausted you to the point where you agreed to marry him, convinced it could not make your life any worse.

Again, you were wrong.

With his ring on now your finger, Jungkook is even more assured of his ownership of you. You are no longer allowed to cook or go into the garden, both deemed as dangerous activities where you could somehow be harmed by a vegetable peeler, or maybe grass cuttings. You have no access to the internet, and the only books you are permitted to read are simple, dull books with no plot or dusty old historical text books, obviously the only things Jungkook is certain wouldn’t give you ‘silly ideas to confuse your pretty little head.’

~~~~

“Jungkook,” You murmur, voice muffled as he presses your face into the pillow.

“Yeah, baby, say my name just like that.” He grunts, attempting to tug off your skirt with one hand while the other is fisted in your hair. You roll your eyes and shift your weight so he can take it off properly. After he had separately ripped all your pants at some point in his haste to take them off you, you had realised it was simply easier to wear something less finicky.

As soon your lower half is bared for him, he starts running his large palms greedily over your skin, for his own benefit rather than yours.

“Fuck, look at you.” He mutters, before digging a thumb into a bruise he had left on your ass. You yelp and he chuckles lowly behind you. Just as you expect, he presses firmly on the bruise and you clench your teeth, burying your nails in your palms and refusing to make a noise. He waits for a second, but you remain stubbornly silent.

“Huh,” he says, “I guess baby’s pain threshold has risen a bit, yeah?” He strokes a possessive hand between your shoulder blades and you repress a shiver, before he loops his arm around you and lifts you onto your hands and knees.

“I guess I’ll just have to fuck you harder then.” He resolves, before shoving himself into you roughly.

Jungkook is not small, putting it lightly, though you hate to afford any kind of praise to that bastard. He is long, and thick, and you really hadn’t been very turned on at all, just letting him do what he wanted so that he’d leave you alone, so you don’t blame yourself too much when a scream bursts out of your lips. You can barely hear his smug laugh behind you over the burning sensation in your core. He doesn’t give you any time at all to adjust, roughly pumping himself in and out as you try to hold in your whimpers.

“So fucking tight, baby.” He grunts in your ear, punctuating his words with harsh slaps against your thigh, “You sure you can handle my cock?” This is his offer: Admit that I’m hurting you, admit that you’re weak and at my mercy, and I’ll stop. That’s all you have to do.

You clench your teeth and press your face into the pillow again.

He sighs behind you, though you can tell he’s quietly pleased, before pulling out of you and walking away. Him yanking out and leaving you roughly stretched and exposed to the cold air is almost as painful as when he shoved into you in the first place, and when he returns you resent yourself for feeling the slightest hint of relief.

He is carrying a bottle of lube, normally used for when he decides he wants to fuck your ass instead. You tense up, preparing to swallow your pride and beg him not to — it’s been a while and you’re not sure you can take the pain — but he senses your fear and smirks.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m just gonna make it a bit easier for you.” As he speaks, he’s slicking up his cock and soon enough he’s getting back up on his knees and taking ahold of your hips, pushing himself in slightly gentler this time.

The coolness of the gel soothes — but doesn’t eradicate — the burn and Jungkook has started to move in long, rolling strokes inside you that are almost pleasant.

“See, baby?” Jungkook coos as his hands move around to stroke your stomach, “I don’t want to hurt you, you have to know that. I hate hurting you, but you never tell me to stop. You have to know your limits, baby girl. You’re just not strong enough.”

His words — though patronising, and awful, and the kind of thing that make you want to whack him in the neck with one of those massive historical tomes he provides you — are spoken in that soft, Jungkook tone that he used to make you fall in love with him. It reminds you of those days when he was just Kookie, your cute study partner with a bunny smile and a pretty singing voice and broad muscly shoulders that flushed along with the rest of his body when you complimented him.

The Jungkook that you know him as now — the one swiftly bringing you to a reluctant and resentful orgasm — is the opposite of soft. He is rough and impulsive and controlling and you honestly fear what would happen if you tried to ask him for a divorce. He wouldn’t let you go, probably. He’d just laugh at you, and then shove you down and fuck you to make you remember who you really belonged to, like he is doing now.

You try to contain your pants as Jungkook starts a series of staccato thrusts. You are sure Jungkook would hear you, even over the obscene sound of his hips slapping into the back of your thighs, and would be obnoxiously proud about it for the next month. He would already be smug enough having made you come, which you have given up trying to stave off because Jungkook — damn him — is really good at fucking you until you can’t remember your own name.

He reaches around to pinch your clit harshly and you decide that now is as good a time as any to give up your last remaining vestiges of pride. You come with a piercing whine, clenching around him rhythmically until his hips stutter and you feel the unpleasant sensation of warmth spilling into you. He doesn’t stop, pumping every last drop into you and then dropping on top of you, pinning your body to the mattress.

After a while he rearranges himself so that he is spooning you, arms wrapped stiflingly tight around your waist, and his now-flaccid cock still tucked inside you. You grimace. Jungkook had always fallen fast asleep after sex, but now you are wide awake, hyperaware as he snores behind you. You don’t know what you’ve become. You hate him. But sometimes he says things that make you wish he wasn’t a monster, that make you wish he was the boy with soft smiles and expressive eyes that you had fallen in love with. You live for the resurgences of that humanity, because it is the only thing you have to look forward to, apart from the eventual day when Jungkook finally snaps and kills you.

~~~~

“Jungkook,” you say over breakfast, and he looks up with his cheeks full of pancake.

“Yes, my angel?” He asks, eyes twinkling — he loves when you say his name — and your breath catches, and for a second everything is perfect and you are having breakfast across from a boy who loves you more than anything. And then you see the annoyed glint in his eye — you hadn’t immediately answered his question — and you come crashing back to bitter reality.

“I-” You start, then stop, unsure of how to phrase the question into a compliment, that way Jungkook is more likely to give you what you want.

“Say what you want to say, baby. You know how I hate to be kept waiting…” He gives you a shark’s smile.

“I… I really loved all the books you gave me.” You tell him, making sure your voice is exactly the correct tone of gushing admiration.

“Really?” He replies, a pleased expression on his face as he strokes your hair back gently.

“Yes, and I- I was wondering if maybe… I could have some more?”

His hand drifts down to rest at the hollow of your throat. It curls slightly.

“N-not that I’m not grateful-” You stammer, “B-But… I liked them all so much I read them too quickly, and now I have nothing else to do with you’re gone.” You end the statement with a playful pout, and you feel your self-loathing level up a notch.

“Baby, you have to remember to take your time with things like that.” Jungkook grinned, standing up and getting his briefcase. You move to the door where you are supposed to administer a farewell kiss before he goes to work, just like always.

He smiles, satisfied, before looking sideways slightly so you can get up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He reaches around to squeeze your ass quickly, smirking when you squeak in shock.

“Don’t be greedy baby, take what you’re given.” He tosses a ‘Love you!’ over his shoulder as he goes, and when you call it back the words taste sour on your tongue. You wonder if you had ever uttered those words sincerely.

~~~~

You had been thinking Jungkook had forgotten about your request for books, so when the doorbell rings at six o clock and you answer it to see a cute delivery boy with a bundle of books tucked under his arm, you are surprised to say the least.

“D-Delivery for Jeon Jungkook?” He stutters, and you had been expecting him to have a slightly high, nervous voice so the deep, thick drawl shocks you in more ways than one. You can feel yourself melt just looking at him. His eyes are so… innocent, just like Jungkook’s when you first saw him. His nose cutely scrunches as his blond hair — longer than Jungkook’s — falls in soft clumps over his eyes. He huffs a lopsided breath and the light strands flutter about momentarily, before settling back just where they were. You think you’ve fallen in love.

You realise you’ve been staring at him this entire time, but to be fair, he has been staring right back, and you feel yourself become flustered.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. That’s my package.”

“Sorry ma’am,” He starts in his honey voice, before grinning. He seems to gain confidence due to your flustered state. “-but this package is addressed to a Mr Jeon Jungkook, and you certainly don’t look like a ‘Mr’.” He mutters as his eyes drag up and down your form. You are only in your nightie — Jungkook always likes it when you wear pretty, flimsy things — and this stranger’s gaze is making you blush in a way you know Jungkook wouldn’t be happy about.

“Yeah, that’s… uh, that’s my husband. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Your husband, huh?” The delivery boy does not seem put off by the mention of a husband, in fact, he seems almost spurred on by it. “And where is Mr Jeon Jungkook right now?”

“He’s working late. He would normally be back by now but he called and said he’s spending the night at the office.”

“Working late, huh?” The delivery boy repeats in that cocky drawl, and oddly enough, it reminds you of Jungkook. “You know, if I had a wife like you waiting for me to come home, I don’t know if I’d even make it out of bed long enough to go to work in the morning, let alone stay there overnight.”

Your eyes widen as your cheeks darken, and his open, bright laughter is the nicest thing you’ve heard in months.

“What happened to the nervous delivery boy?” You spluttered indignantly, and his laughing slowed down, though his eyes were still twinkling. Just like Jungkook’s used to do.

“He relaxed when he realised you were just as affected by him as he was by you.”

“Who says I’m affected by you?” You ask boldly, and then immediately retreat a step when he moves towards you.

“You’re giving yourself away, sweetheart.” He smirks, before advancing another step into your home. “You know… empty house… husband at work… it seems a waste not to use this opportunity.” He waggles his eyebrows at you, and you scoff, forcing him back with both hands until he is outside the door again. He lets you push him with a brow raised lazily.

“That sounded like a line from a bad porno, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook would literally kill me if he found out.” You fake a laugh, covering up your very real and valid fear that Jungkook would actually kill you.

“Jungkook’s the possessive type, huh?”

Yes, you scream internally.

“Well, I’m pretty sure no husband would like delivery boys sleeping with their wives.”

“What about delivery boys visiting their wives during the day?”

You pause, hands floating in midair, about to take the parcel out of the delivery boy’s hands.

“Huh?”

“I could come around in the day while your husband’s at work-” He sped up when you raised your brows, “-not to do anything, or at least, anything that you’re uncomfortable with, but just to talk. I can tell you’re lonely.” You scoff and roll your eyes, ignoring the fact that he’s absolutely correct. You turn back to him, ready to decline his offer, when you see his puppy eyes. Your resolve crumbles.

“I don’t know,” You had no way of telling what punishments Jungkook would submit you to if he found out. He didn’t even let you talk to your parents, so you could hardly imagine he’d be pleased with you chatting to young, attractive men while alone at your house.

“Come on!” The delivery boy wheedled. “He’d never know. He’s practically asking for it, he leaves you alone day after day, all you have for company are these stupid books!” A dismissive gesture to the collection of Austen, Dickens and Shakespeare you are carrying. “Aren’t you bored? Don’t you want a little excitement?”

You tiredly fumble around for an excuse.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“My name’s Taehyung.” He introduces himself promptly. “I’d like to visit you tomorrow at lunch time, if that’s alright.”

“You sure you don’t have a delivery then?” You ask hopefully.

“I don’t.”

You release a weary sigh.

“You’re going to come no matter what I say, aren’t you?” He responds with a blinding grin.

“I love that we’re learning things about each other! You can already anticipate my actions,” He starts listing off ‘facts’ on his fingers, “you know my name, I know you’re trapped in an unsatisfying marriage-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Taehyung.” You shut the door firmly, cutting him off.

You hear a muffled ‘can’t wait!’ from the other side of the door and if you happen to blush and giggle like a lovesick schoolgirl it doesn’t matter because no one else is there and therefore it cannot be proved.

~~~~

Taehyung starts paying you regular visits. He keeps up his job obligations even when he’s off the clock, bringing you food that Jungkook wouldn’t let you eat, newspapers since Jungkook doesn’t let you know what was going on in the outside world, and even snapshots of his day.

Taehyung is an aspiring photographer. He has a small apartment outside of the city and an obsession with strawberries and a dog called Yeontan. He has a life, a life that you are desperately beginning to yearn for. Taehyung tells you once that he wishes he could take a photo of you outside, because he knows this perfect spot — a field full of wildflowers and sunshine that would compliment your beauty perfectly — and you burst into tears.

You tell him, as he rocks you gently in his arms, that you are trapped by Jungkook. That you hate your husband more than anything. That you can’t remember the last time you felt the sun on your skin. And so, quietly, carefully, the two of you begin to plot.

It is not as simple as calling the police. Jungkook has enough money that there is no crime he cannot buy his way out of, no officer he cannot bribe into submission. No, you have to disappear completely. You begin passing along your possessions to Taehyung so he can take them back to his place, gradually, so that Jungkook doesn’t notice you are withdrawing from his life one pair of shoes at a time.

You daren’t risk taking any money of Jungkook, but Taehyung tells you it isn’t a problem, which is slightly strange since you know Taehyung must have quit his delivery boy job so that he could see you every day, and surely he could do with some extra cash. You tell yourself it’s sweet that he doesn’t care about material things, he just cares about you.

“What are these?” Jungkook asks one morning, when he is greeted not with eggs sunny side up and a kiss, but a stack of papers.

“A divorce contract.” You tell him, trying to ignore the waver in your voice. He only raises an eyebrow at you, and you blanch.

You had been expecting yelling, threats, maybe even violence. Taehyung had begged you to just leave without a trace, and abandon Jungkook to his own horrid life of loneliness, but you just can’t do that, even if it is the safer option. There is still a small, pathetic part of you that clings to the idea of Kookie, the boy with wire-rimmed glasses and carefree smiles who always accepted your help with questions he couldn’t answer. Even though you know that side of him is now long-dead, if it ever even existed in the first place.

However, Jungkook is currently subverting all of your expectations. He sits there calmly, leafing through the papers.

“These don’t make any sense.” He remarks. You attempt to snatch them back, but he holds them out of your reach.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t really expecting you to read them.” You reply, embarrassed. The fake contract had been your idea, a way of telling Jungkook you wanted a divorce without actually saying the words. Of course, you had expected him to fling them into the fire, or something equally as dramatic, not read through them carefully and snort at all the typos.

“I understand.” He declares eventually. “You want my attention, so you’re pretending that you want to leave me. Very funny, baby.”

“That’s not true!” You burst out, cheeks burning. “I am leaving you, divorce contract or not.”

“Hush, baby, you know I don’t like it when you lie.” Jungkook purrs, his eyes burning dangerously.

“I don’t care what you like anymore, Jungkook.” You respond, suddenly furious, “I’ve spent so many years as your wife, being terrified by you, being controlled and miserable. Now I’ve got Taehyung, and I’m finally happy! I love him, Jungkook, not you. I’m leaving.”

You turn away and storm to the door, but hesitate when you hear Jungkook chuckle.

“If you think you are liberating yourself by going to Kim Taehyung… you are wrong, baby.”

“H-How do you know his family name?” You ask, fear starting to invade your mind.

“I know a lot of things about Mr Kim,” Jungkook spits, and his anger starts to bleed through. “He is not who you think he is, baby. Are you sure you want to go?” His patronising tone is the last straw for you.

“I’d rather die than stay here with you.”

“Who knows, baby, Mr Kim might just fulfil your wish.” You blanch again, hesitating with your hand on the lock, a breath away from freedom.

“Y-You’re just trying to scare me.” You stutter, and you hear him sigh behind you.

“No, baby, I’m trying to warn you, but you insist on being so, so dumb. I don’t like to see you hurt, remember? But, if this will teach you a lesson about how lucky you are to have me, I guess I’ll have to let you go. Just remember, baby, when you’re with him and it’s not all you expect it to be, I will be coming for you.” As he speaks, he rises from his seat and moves across the room until he is right behind you, his breath ghosting on the back of your neck as you stubbornly refuse to turn, hand still poised on the latch.

“I’m not coming back.” You whisper, and you feel a huff of laughter against your neck.

“No, baby, I’ll rescue you, and take you back. I promise, you’ll be counting the days until you’re in my arms again.”

~~~~

Jungkook watches from the window as your harried form disappears into the distance. Cursing softly to himself, he turns on his phone and pulls up a number he is loathe to possess.

“So, she left you, huh?” A cocky voice drawls across the line.

“Shut it, Kim.” Jungkook snaps, “She’s still my wife, she still belongs to me.”

“Oh? You didn’t sign the divorce papers?”

“Yes, very funny by the way, Kim. ‘I hereby announce that Kim Taehyung has been our mother’s favourite from the moment of his conception.’ You should’ve become a comic instead of a criminal.” Jungkook reads a line from the fake files.

“Well, I could say the same to you, baby brother, allowing your wife to leave you like this. It’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years.”

“Half-brother.” Jungkook growls. “And she hasn’t left me.”

“The tracker I planted on her begs to differ.”

“She’s just…” Jungkook huffs, “Confused.”

“No, she’s just got good taste, obviously.”

“You really are pathetic, stealing your little brother’s toys like this, hyung.” Jungkook taunts. “Soon, very soon, I’m going to come and get her back. I better not find her too broken when I get there.”

Jungkook hangs up, mutters a curse under his breath, and then starts planning the inevitable gang war he’s going to have to embroil himself in because his wife can’t keep her damn legs closed.

#yandere #Yandere jungkook #yandere bts #yandere jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #yandere kpop #yandere taehyung #yandere taehyung x reader #bts taehyung #bts taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #jungkook smut

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prinxlyart · 4 years

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Beforehand, I'm sorry for not giving you a rest xDU -.-U: So, you mentioned begorr that Emira and Viney considered having children but Emira was reluctant because of her (not-redeemed) parents. I would like know their point of view then AND after the Blight parents redeemed themselves

Ooof this is a toughie. Hmmmmm let’s see

I think the question was first brought up on accident, yknow, by like a complete stranger trying to make nice conversation in all the wrong ways. Like, maybe Amity still, after all these years, loves to read to kids at the library. She’s good at it, the kids love her, and she doesn’t have to worry about anything except making sure those kids have a good time.

And maybe it’s during one of those reading sessions that Emira and Viney also happen to be in the library researching something when they pass by the Kiddie Corner and see Amity reading to those kids and they both hide behind a bookcase and just coo at how adorable the sight is. After a minute they start to get comfortable watching Amity read to the kids and they both have warm goofy smiles on their faces until suddenly someone comes up next to them and whispers “they’re so cute, aren’t they?” And they see what looks like one of the kid’s parents next to them also watching the story telling. Emira and Viney agree, it’s probably the cutest thing in all of the Boiling Isles (certainly the most wholesome). Then this parent whispers again, “which one’s yours? Mine’s the little guy with the horns.” And Viney and Emira just freeze because oops, they’ve been mistaken as parents. They both blush and stammer for a bit and explain they’re actually just related to the story-teller and the parent apologizes and they day continues. But that interaction is on both of their minds for the entire rest of the day.

Viney’s never considered kids seriously before; she has her beasts to take care of and those usually aren’t kid-friendly. But she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about teaching children about how to handle different kinds of creatures. Besides, she’s also a Healing witch, (most) any damage can be patched up with a quick spell. But teaching kids and actually raising one are two totally different things. And the interaction from the library had left her feeling strangely warm all the rest of the day. Would she be okay with actually having kids with Emira? Maybe. That answer by itself is already scary enough - they’ve only been married for less than a year, but that doesn’t stop the misunderstanding from the library from making her feel warm and fuzzy and a little bit giddy.

In the meantime, Emira’s having a silent meltdown within her own head. All alarms are going off like a Shale Hail storm was rampaging through her mind. Her, a mother? She’d spent her entire life trying to get away from her own mother; she couldn’t even begin to imagine herself in that role. Her thoughts were racing the entire day following the library incident and it left a gross feeling in her chest and a queasiness in her stomach. She didn’t even know if she really liked kids let alone liking them enough to want one of her own. And what if she fucks it up just like her parents did??? She and Viney are just getting their Service Creature business off the ground - she is not about to be an absent mother like her own to focus on her work. That thought alone is enough to keep her feeling slightly off-kilter the entire rest of the day.

I think they talk about it that night in great length; their fears, their concerns, their dream-scenarios, Emira’s parents. That’s when the convo gets especially hard as Emira’s stutter starts making it more difficult for her to articulate herself before she just breaks down entirely. Viney reassured her that they don’t have to make any decisions right that instant, it’s just a thought they’d both been plagued by all day. They could have that conversation again when they felt they might be ready for it.

Of course the following year and a half is a whirlwind of helping Amity get hitched to her girls and messy makeups with the Blight parents. And even after that giant wedding is over, Alador and Odalia are still learning how to make amends and it puts Emira in a weird headspace. Not to mention she’s concerned about her twin brother living alone. He hates being alone. He was the one that insisted he move into a single-room apartment but that doesn’t stop Emira from worrying over her twin. She still had a hard time wrapping her head around the whole aromantic thing, especially since she knew Edric thrived off being around other people.

She was especially worried now that they’ve been trying to repair their severely broken relationship with their parents; they’ve both been a little emotionally turbulent. They took Camilia’s suggestion of seeking out a therapist (as a human healer she doesn’t need to worry about the magic side of things and they consider her quite practical as a result. Also, she’s Luz’s mom and is basically the best woman in the world, of course they’d take her advice).

I think it takes several years of the Blights all working hard to fix their family relationship before Viney brings up how one of their clients had asked about a kids class; maybe a single session where they go over the basics of different creatures and how to approach them (if you should even approach them at all) before allowing them to try on one of the more docile creatures they have. I think she tries to bring it up as casually as possible; I think ever since that first conversation they had, Viney’s kinda tiptoed around the concept of kids in general around Emira.

They’d talked about her fears and what caused her to meltdown during that first conversation of course, and they talk about how therapy has been working for Emira and her family. But Viney hasn’t brought up them having their own kids since that first conversation, even though she’s been feeling a hint of longing in the depths of her heart recently as she watches parents interact with their own kids (of course sometimes that’s exactly what also stifles that longing - there are some parents that look dead on their feet with their screaming child throwing a tantrum on the ground).

But they discuss the idea of hosting a weekly or monthly class for kids without issue and Viney just waits....I think until maybe the following night to bring up the idea of being parents themselves again. And I think it still scares Emira absolutely shitless. She doesn’t break down the way she did the first time but she does start going into brief panic spirals before Viney pulls her out of them. Viney reassured her that again, they don’t need to decide anything right then and there, it’s just something she’s been thinking about recently.

I think Emira takes the thought to therapy with her and she and her therapist really work through what’s bothering her about the concept of her being a mother. And it takes a while. Like, several months. But in that time, Emira’s slowly warming herself up to the idea of being a parent. She constantly reminds herself that she isn’t going to behave like her parents had. She’s not going to get too tired of them and wave them away or push expectations onto any child of hers by the time they’re 6. She’s going to love whatever child they might have with her entire heart. She’s still scared.

I think her actual breakthrough is with a conversation with Camila and Eda. They’re both Luz’s moms (kind of? Mostly? In everything but like, legal documents? Like Eda’s 9/10’s of the way there so she’s basically Luz’s mom) and Emira’s witnessed how much they both love Luz over the years that she’s known them. She wants to learn how to love any potential future kids like they love Luz. Hearing this actually shocks Camila and Eda; they’ve watched Emira grow up into an incredibly kind and caring witch - of course she’d be an amazing mother. But then they listen to her fears of falling back on her own parents’ shitty parenting tactics just because that’s what she grew up with and they reassure her that she’s not her parents.

Camila and Eda make their own points from their own perspectives. Camila describes how it felt like the universe was crashing around her when she found out she was pregnant with Luz. How she was frightened beyond anything that had happened in her life up to that point. She was a medical student!!! She didn’t have time to take care of a baby! But then she also couldn’t bring herself to terminate the pregnancy. She didn’t know why, but she was already deeply in love and attached to the little bundle of cells rapidly dividing in her uterus. The thought of being a part of such an impossible thing as creating an entirely new person was overwhelming and exciting. She somehow convinced herself that she could handle it. She’s a hard-working woman with probably too much pride to admit that she bit off more than she could chew, but she felt like she had something to prove.

Camila explains how emotionally tumultuous she’d been in the following....probably 5 years? There were times when she could turn her thoughts off and just focus on what was important: making sure the baby was taken care of and making sure she got all her homework done on time. But then there would be moments of peace and tranquillity where her only concern was making sure Luz didn’t hurt herself while she played where her emotions would take over like a tsunami. Ironically enough, Luz would always notice, even as a baby, and motion for her mom to pick her up so she could snuggle into her mom’s neck in her version of a hug. Camila would try to hold back her tears in those moments, but whenever Luz raised her arms up at her with a frown on her face, her heart would warm up so much it felt like it was nearly on fire and those tears would just start flowing freely. Luz loved her and she loved Luz and that was enough for Camila to know she’d made the right choice for her life and to keep pressing forward.

She worried every single step of the way that she was doing something wrong (whether or not she had a partner/family members/friends helping her) and nothing rocked her world more than being introduced to the Demon Realm after thinking her daughter had been somewhere else entirely for a whole summer.

She had wrestled with that for months afterwards; the guilt that she hadn’t done more to help Luz thrive in her own home the way she did on the Boiling Isles. That somehow it was her fault for not being able to magically make everything work in her daughter’s favor. That she maybe could’ve somehow singlehandedly change the entire system to benefit Luz the way it did the other kids so she wouldn’t have felt so lost and alone that she needed to go to the Demon Realm to feel like she belonged somewhere.

It had taken several talks with Eda (after they stopped hating each other) for her to accept that she had done everything she could with what she had. None of it was solely her fault, but she probably could’ve listened to Luz’s unspoken/misunderstood needs more carefully.

She emphasizes to Emira that the most important thing to take away from all of that is that no matter what happens, she just needs to love and provide for her child as much as she possibly can. And to always listen to them; they won’t always know how to articulate their needs so it’s up to the parent to help them figure it out. Love and patience, which she notes that Emira has plenty of.

Eda’s perspective is vastly different because she didn’t even consider being a mother for the large majority of her life until suddenly there was a teenager camping out in a spare room in her house that she used for miscellaneous storage. And it wasn’t something that happened overnight either; she didn’t just wake up one day and think “today’s the day I’m going to start loving Luz as if she was my own daughter”, like, that thought literally never crossed her mind. It really didn’t hit her just how much Luz meant to her until the first instance with Belos; Luz being kidnapped by Eda’s own sister and nearly dying kinda makes you really think about how important a person is to you. She didn’t realize how much Luz being in her life made her feel like she was part of a family until Luz said so just before she was sent to be petrified. It took Luz saying it point blank to her face with tears in her eyes while Eda was essentially on death row for it to click in her head that she loved Luz like a daughter. That she would do anything to keep her safe and happy.

And as un-versed as she is in being an actual mom, she was relatively well-versed in how to handle Luz as a teenager because she saw so much of herself in her. She didn’t have the previous 14 years of Luz’s life coloring her opinions and expectations of her; all she saw was a young, weird girl that wanted nothing more than to learn magic even though all odds were stacked against her. Eda emphasizes that as kids become teenagers, it’s important to treat them with respect and to let them know their voices are heard.

A parent may want to hide them away so they can be safe from the world, but then they’ll never grow. She idly comments how she just treated Luz how she would’ve wanted to be treated at her age: like an equal. Eda emphasizes to Emira that respecting children is a huge part of being an effective parent, at least in her experience.

Emira takes all of this in stride; thanks to her siblings and their friends, she’s learned a lot over the years about how to be a kind and compassionate witch. She returns to Viney that day feeling infinitely better about the concept. Now it’s just a matter of discussing whether or not they’re ready in every other aspect besides emotionally.

Eventually they get there. It takes some encouragement from Edric and Amity (and by extension, Luz and Willow) as well as Jerbo and Barcus (between them, Edric and Gus? This kid will have the coolest uncle-squad ever), but Emira and Viney do find a point in their lives where they’re excited and ready about having kids.

Again, I’m not one for coming up with fan kids. Far too many possibilities. Last time I made fan kids was maybe ten years ago so I’m super rusty anyway. But I know for a fact that any children they have had essentially a small army of adults ready to love them. How would they get those kids? Again, far too many possibilities. Maybe one or both of them are trans and capable of biological reproduction! Maybe they decide to go the Magic Route! Maybe they adopt! I truly don’t know. All I know is that once they are ready to have kids, they’re so fuckin hyped it’s all they can think or talk about for months until they finally have one. And they will love that child so fiercely, that child will never feel for even a moment that they’re unloved.

(All grandparents involved are over the moon; the Blight grandparents actually cry for like an hour straight the first time they meet their first grand baby and spoil them like nothing else; Viney’s parent(s) don’t cry as much as the Blights, but they do cry a lot and are the kind of grandparent(s) that secretly try to give that kid their first sip of (boiling isles equivalent) soda, candy, etc., just to give Viney and Emira a hard time. Eda and Camila [and Willow’s dads] are honorary grandparents that also love and adore this kid.)

#prinxly inquiries #wam-hope #the owl house #vinera #vinira #damn. sorry this one took so long #this was sent like a week ago and I just have not had the energy recently #but hey!! here we go #ty wam hope for those good good prompts

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drethanramslay · 3 years

Text

Letters of Love and Longing (4)

Book: A Courtesan of Rome

Pairing: Marc Antony x MC (Aurora Lavigne)

Letters of Love and Longing Masterlist

Request by @beckaroo- #29

Author’s note: This is my first time writing Marc Antony and i Hope i could do him justice. I referred to Google for the info and translation so if it is wrong blame google (And also lemme know because i always am willing to learn hehehe)

Thanks to @cryinginthebackseat the OG talented queen to pre read it ❤

Year: 1940 Location: Across the Mediterranean Sea in Libya, North Africa

Mio Tesoro,

You were right in predicting that Italy won't stay still. You were right that the people who run this country care little for its citizens or for the people working to keep this country alive. Mussolini's pride is the reason our country is put into a tumultuous war and will be the reason we will suffer.

What was the reason to join Hitler? Was it that hard to shut his pie-hole and not get involved in something bigger than him? Bigger than all of us?

Mussolini and I have so much in common. He is also from a small, inconsequential family much like myself. Worked hard through childhood and had big dreams and ambition so big, people would laugh at you. Joined the military to rise the ranks... sounds familiar, no?

I just hope that I never become like him. And if I do, you have full permission to smack me.

My loyalty lies with my country but I am honestly so disgusted by that man. I happened to overhear what the Bastardo said to Marshal Badoglio? "I only need a few thousand dead so that I can sit at the peace conference as a man who has fought."

Who says that? After years of serving him and his fancies, this is how my loyalty is paid?

I apologize for unleashing all my annoyance and rage on you. You don't deserve it.

This was meant as an appreciation and acknowledgement of how you always manage to be correct. But look at me, displacing and projecting my anger onto you, my Aurora, mia cara. Sorry.

Ideally, this letter could be seen as me fraternizing with the enemy and I could probably be hung for it. Could you know how scandalous it would be for a high ranking officer to be head over heels in love with a French woman? Every day I think about you or the way your lips feel against mine or those sinful curves, I am dancing on a thin line, the moral grey zone as they say.

But what is life without the rush of cheating death, eh?

I miss you. More than I thought I would. It is a completely new experience for me. I don't understand the romantic ballads the young lads sing to woo a woman. I rather show you how much you mean to me... Or how much you infatuate me... Or how much I love you, for actions speak louder than words.

But I am so far away from you. You would think that after all these months of distance after you left Italy and sought refuge in Switzerland I would be able to deal better with the distance.

How far away you seem - how far everything seems that I have loved.

It must be the karma of all the lives I have taken to be miles away from you. But if it means getting to see you again, I will suffer through the hardest of times. I would go to any ends to be in your presence. Aurora.

I am pleased to hear that you are taking care of yourself. If you are well, I am well. Also, I am glad that you have made some friends with the other woman. They will give you the company I lack to provide. Mussolini says that it is going to be a short war so I hope that I can bring you back home. If not, then we will have to settle for these letters which do so little to alleviate the emptiness in my heart.

Ti amo, mia Bellissima.

Yours,

Marc Antony.

Well from whatever little history I remember back from high school, Mussolini was a gigantic cunt and I didn't like him. Also the quote is true! He deadass said that like yuck, fuck off

Also the axis powers were Italy, germany and Japan while the Allied Powers were Great Britain, France, Soviet union, USA and China.

Anyways, i hope you liked it ♥ Like, comment, reblog and share your thoughts :)

Permanent taglist: @bellcat2010 @choices-fangirl-yeet @chaotic-ramsay-queen @ramseysno1rookie @chasingrobbie @kimmiedoo5 @chaotic-pixie @akshara16 @fleur-de-jasmin-fdj @bratzlahela @ac27dj @hatescapsicum @theeccentricbibliophile @monsoonblooms12 @maurine07 @choices-love-affair @kaavyaethanramsey @drariellevalentine @agent-breakdance @justanotherrookie @mvalentine @greenbean-kylie @choices-addict @trappedinfanfiction @colossalpainintheass @jamespotterthefirst @queencarb @starrystarrytrouble @mrsdrakewalkerblog @lilypills @dr-ramseys-rookie @arcticlumineer @choicesficwriterscreations @anonymously-cool @choicesstan1 @nooruleman

Marc X MC Taglist: @theo-oface @beckaroo @cryinginthebackseat @arfeiniel

People interested in the series: @whatchique @cryinginthebackseat

#anushka writes #a courtesan of rome #marc antony #marc antony x mc #playchoices #pixelberry #choices fic writers creations

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babbushka · 4 years

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Two’s Company (5/5)

1989 and New York City is a mess. Life was shit for all but you and Pale, who found that among the rubble and rubbish, there existed peace and calm and hard hot fucking. That is, until, an unwanted visitor makes themselves known, throwing this happy dream into a tumultuous nightmare.

Pale (Burn This) x Reader

The Final Chapter of my sequel to Blue Moon

9.2k; Warnings: NSFW, angst, drug mentions, mentions of violence

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

He smiled a lot, on the walk to the diner. It wasn’t much further, but he smiled the whole way. That was somethin’ real rare for Pale, to be smiling for that long. Even in bed he didn’t grin the way he was grinning now.

He didn’t let go of your hand the whole way, kept an even tighter grip on you after your accidental slip. These were new heels, and you shoulda broke them in longer than you did, they weren’t all scuffed up on the bottom like your old pairs were.

But you didn’t mind too much, not if it meant Pale got to hold you tight the way he was. Whenever the two of yous walked, he always made sure you were on the inside, never on the street-side. He always made sure, didn’t want you gettin’ hurt or hit or nothing, even though you ain’t never seen a car come up onto the sidewalk before.

It was sweet of him to worry though, and you didn’t complain, just held his hand and laughed and smiled with him all the way to the diner.

When you finally got there, and he smacked at your hand for trying to open the door yourself, you gasped in so much surprise that Pale immediately stiffened into a fight-or-flight mode that had you chuckling, especially because you had been gasping at,

“Chaya!” You rush to the small woman’s side, opening your arms for a hug that she eagerly accepted, “My god it’s been so long!”

Chaya, Fish’s wife, almost never came to the diner. She always said she never liked the smell of it, of all that cooking oil and grease. You saw her occasionally of course, whenever you’d spend the holidays with them and random dinners, but seeing her in the diner was a novelty.

“(Y/N) it’s so good to see you, you look gorgeous – are those new shoes?” Chaya had a habit of complimenting you whenever she saw you, fawned over you like a granddaughter she didn’t have.

You always let her, because well, before Pale, you didn’t get complimented all that much, and it felt good to be recognized, even if it was from a tiny Jewish woman that looked at you through glasses that were an inch thick.

“Yeah, my old heels were fallin’ apart, walked in the snow one too many times with them.” You explained as you showed off the pretty heels you had bought yourself – you hadn’t accepted any of Pale’s money for them, you saved up and up and up for them and finally, after a good couple of months you were able to spend that hard earned cash on something nice and new for yourself.

“Ohhh,” Chaya said appreciatively at the way you turned your ankles so she could see the black patent leather and red bottoms. Chaya had always had a very New York style, very chic. Her hair was a bleach blonde cloud teased to perfection on top of her head, and her clothing was always heavily beaded to the point where you were sure you could see her from a mile away – just the same as you could see Pale, who she was eyeing up and down just as appreciatively, “And who is this?”

“This is my man Pale.” You said happily, pride making you bashful as Pale stuck his cigarette in between in teeth to extend his free hand for a shake.

“Big strong and handsome! I’ve heard so much about you but oy nothin’ about how tall you are!” Chaya laughed at his grip, gave him a wink.

“Heard only bad things I hope.” Pale winked right back, and you couldn’t help but let a little laugh out through your nose at how charming he really was, even with little old bubbies.

“The worst.” Chaya teased, before sighing and putting her hands on her hips, getting right to the point: “Fishel ain’t here today honey, he’s feelin’ a little under the weather.”

“Sick how? Is he okay?” Your smile dropped, fearing the worst.

“Don’t worry about him honey he’s going to be fine.” Chaya scoffed and waved her hands around, “His allergies are just acting up is all. You know I always tell him to take a Benadryl in the winter-time but he never listens to me. Men!”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be running the diner today.” You raised your eyebrows, but she only scoffed again, making you sigh in relief.

“Me? God no.” She said as if she were offended, before jabbing her thumb in your man’s direction and saying, “I was actually wonderin’ if your man Mr. Pale wouldn’t mind taking over here.”

“I would love to but I gotta be at the one in the city.” Pale shook his head, took a deep drag of his cigarette.

“No you don’t, my nephew is going to cover for you today.” Chaya countered, making the both of your eyebrows shoot up then.

“Nephew?” Pale asked, cocking his head towards her as if his ear wasn’t close enough.

“Little Joshua’s hopin’ to go into the restaurant business like his uncle isn’t that so precious?” She put her hand over her chest, “Well I say little, he’s thirty and back from a stint overseas. He wants to open up his own place for the vets, bless him.”

“So let me get this straight,” Pale asked a little too aggressively, “You want me to stay here and manage the diner today, while your nephew manages the diner in Manhattan?”

“Is that gonna be a problem?” Chaya asked back, just as aggressively, and you had to admit it was funny seeing him back down. Not even the big bad Pale was a match for a stubborn Jewish woman with a plan.

“Problem?” Pale put his hands up in surrender, making you laugh as he quickly said, “No, no problem at all. None whatsoever.”

“Good, then I’m off.” She brightened up considerably, dropping the serious act right away. She leaned over for you to give her a big kiss on the cheek as you always did, and patted yours when you pulled away enough. “It was so good seein’ ya honey, come by for dinner one of these nights, okay?”

“Okay Chaya, send my love.” You said, opening and holding the door for her.

You waited until she got into her tiny sedan and drove away, before turning to Pale and putting your hands on your hips in much the same manner.

“What was that all about?” You asked, wondering why he had given attitude.

“You ain’t never seen me work before, you know that?” He scratched the back of his neck, chewed on the inside of his cheek as he smoked smoked smoked his cigarette.

“You see me work all the time.” You pointed out, walking towards the back to go get your apron and your little hat, putting both on so your uniform was complete.

Pale followed you, snatched the sash of your apron out of your hands and gently tied it into a pretty bow for you so you didn’t have to.

“I know but that’s different, you ain’t gotta yell at anybody.” He said, and your heart warmed at his soft tone.

“Is that it? You don’t want me seein’ you get all angry?” You turn to face him, loop your arms up and over his neck, pluckin’ the cigarette out from between his teeth enough to kiss him a little, “I ain’t afraid of you or your angry voice, if that’s somethin’ you’re worried about. I’m excited actually, believe it or not.”

“Excited.” Pale quirked a smile, making you hum out a little affirmative.

“I like when you’re…” You mull over, trying to find a good word before settling on, “Authoritative.”

“You’re gonna be the fuckin’ end of me, you know that?” He groaned, thunked his head back against the wall where he was leaning on in the little employees only room in the back, “The absolute fuckin’ end. God I want to fuck you, already I’m hard for you.”

And you could feel it, could feel just how hard he was for you. He pinned your hips against his, and right at the moment when you were fully ready to make out with him and ride his thigh right there in the back room, did the first ding of the door sound, alerting you to the first customer of the day.

“I bet you are honey, but I’ve gotta go serve coffee.” You unlatch yourself from him, and he groaned loudly, playfully.

“Let me watch you walk away?” He asked with big doe eye, and you only grinned as you turned to leave the room, swaying your hips in a teasing exaggerated way.

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

It was mesmerizing, seeing him like this. You��d seen him in all kinds of ways – seen him at home, seen him in the concert halls, seen him preforming. But you ain’t never seen him like this.

It was really somethin’, watching Pale work. You knew he worked hard of course, everyone knew that, everyone who took one look at him knew that. But you’d never actually seen him work, never seen him in the full swing of things like this, not like this. He was stormin’ all over the fucking place, not even realizing that he’s storming, you didn’t think. He just had that presence to him, that aura about him – that don’t fuck with me or I’ll break your legs kind of vibe.

You almost spilled your coffee a coupla’ times because of it.

Well maybe you almost spilled your coffee a coupla’ time’s because of the way he had taken off his fancy silk shirt and suit jacket, revealing a black tank top underneath that showed off his arms so nice and good that you wanted to reach through the order window and give his biceps a squeeze.

You’d seen him in the kitchen before of course, he cooked all the fuckin’ time for you at home, but this was different. Here it was like his need to show off was multiplied ten times, and damn, did he. Smoking cigarette after cigarette through the breakfast rush, workin’ hard as he could to get all the orders just right, just perfect.

You knew he knew he wasn’t no Fish, not really, and when Fish came back to work tomorrow you were sure there’d be folks who’d be thrilled – because let’s face it, even Pale’s best just wasn’t what some of these regulars were used to but damn, his best was pretty good.

It was almost surreal, walkin’ up to the order window and seein’ your man on the other side. He’d only be in the kitchen for breakfast and you knew that, knew he’d be going back to the office once the rush was over and the cook could take full control of the kitchen again. But for now, you and a couple of the other waitresses walked up to the counter when he dinged the little bell, and it put a real big smile on your face to see Pale there.

“Alright I gotta Adam and Eve on a log for table ten and an Adam and Eve on a wrecked raft for table seven and don’t you dare fuckin’ mix ‘em up.” He snapped at the kid, Jess, who worked the morning shifts with you sometimes if she didn’t have any college classes in the morning.

Jess only rolled her eyes and grabbed the plates, careful not to mix them up, and you occupied the little space that she had freed up to pass a new order ticket to Pale. It was for one of the truck drivers who came in all the time, he only ever ate a huge breakfast in the morning, and then a big dinner real late at night, so it had to be done the right way, and you tell Pale as much.

“Hi honey, got a bean buster over at booth eleven and he’s real particular about how he likes his steak so please just, for the love of god make sure it’s rare?” You said soft enough that the trucker couldn’t hear you, not that he really would even if you shouted it out, just because of how packed the place was and all the clinking clanking clanging of everyone eating and enjoying their food.

“Black and blue comin’ up – hey,” Pale said, reaching through the window and grabbing your wrist when you slide him the ticket, pulling you a little closer and suckin’ down some nicotine as he asked, “Gimmie a kiss?”

You laugh and pluck the cigarette out from between his teeth before giving him a quick smack of your lips on his. He watched you walk away until you were officially out of his line of sight, back behind the milkshake bar makin’ egg creams.

Pale’s massive, you think. Absolutely fuckin’ huge, but there’s a sort of bull-in-the-china-shop kind of grace about it. He spent most of his time in the mornin’ doing the breakfast rush alongside the cook, the guy that worked the night shifts and who also got brought in when Fish wasn’t feelin’ too hot. You almost wanted to feel sorry for Pale, because breakfast rush was some fuckin’ nightmare sometimes, but he handled it with as much ease as Fish did, and you were impressed.

Like when some random guy – not a regular or at least not one you recognized – was yelling at that poor college kid Jess, for something that ain’t even her fault. You heard the commotion seemingly right as it happened, but so did Pale. He must have, because he was approachin’ the table cool as a cucumber, his silk shirt back on and tucked into his pleated trousers, big suit jacket makin’ his broad shoulders look even more broad.

You were almost worried that he’d start yellin’ right away, that he’d get into a fight or some shit like that. Not anything mean by it, but you knew your man, you knew your Pale. He was a hot headed kinda guy when it came to some shit, and you were fully prepared to step in if necessary.

So he surprised and impressed you when he was nothin’ but calm.

“There a problem over here?” He asked, hands on his hips just in that way that men in charge liked to stand.

And boy, was your man a man in charge.

The guy takes one look at Pale, and it’s like he can see his whole fucking life flash before his eyes. He immediately regrets raising his voice at Jess, immediately regrets causing a scene at all, and Pale gives him good reason to. He could so easily pick the guy up and physically throw him out of the diner, could snap him in two if he wanted.

You have to bite your lip at the thought, and Pale caught that look of yours from the corner of his eye, smirked a little to himself, too smug about how wet he makes you. But fuck, you’re wet, and it’s all you can do to just stand there and pour some coffee and force yourself not to whine to be fucked.

“I’m sorry I hate to complain, I really do, but there ain’t no salt on these hashbrowns, and there ain’t no salt in my shaker, I think somebody forgot to fill ‘em up or somethin’?” The guy says eventually, when he realizes that there ain’t no winning a fight against Pale, and Pale picks up the little salt shaker that’s definitely not empty, inspects it for a minute.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna have ‘em remake the whole fuckin’ thing for ya, okay? No charge no nothin’, and I’m gonna see what’s goin’ on about this here salt shit. But don’t you ever fuckin’ yell at one of the these girls again, you got that? I catch you yellin’ at any of them and I’ll serve you shit from the dumpster outside – you got that?” He stared the guy down, who gulped and nodded. “My girl (Y/N) will take real good care of ya, won’t you honey?”

Pale looked at you, beckoned you over. You went easily, and he handed you the little salt shaker that’s just about half full, the top only a little clogged.

But while he had you within reach, he pulled you a little closer, and a little closer still – and even a little closer still, until he had a handful of your ass and was kneading it in his big hand right there in front of everyone. Not that anyone was really paying attention.

“You bet, I’m real sorry we ain’t ever outta salt, here’s a new one I’ll go refill this myself.” You said breathlessly, chewing the inside of your cheek and pressing your thighs together from the feeling of Pale’s hand on your body, you’re barely able to ask, “Can I get you anything while you wait?”

“Nah that’s okay, thank you really – wait can I have some coffee?” The guy, who clearly sees what’s going on, ducked his head in embarrassment for making a scene about some shit that ain’t even that big of a deal.

You poured him some coffee, and then went in the back storage room, to “fill up the salt.”

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

It took maybe two seconds, before Pale was comin’ in up behind you.

The storage room was small, not much to really store, when so much of the produce and meats and shit came from local suppliers around the town. Fish was real big on that, and it was something Pale appreciated the fuck outta him for – quality ingredients from local places.

But Fish wasn’t there today, and you took the opportunity of Pale’s managerial position to bend yourself over one of the big storage boxes and hike up your uniform skirt without even so much as a second glance.

“God damn you’re sexy when you work, you know that? I tell you that enough? I should, fuck remember back in the day when I would come and sit here and jerk off to you pourin’ that coffee? Fuck.” Pale’s already undoing the belt buckle of his trousers, already yanking his shirt out from where it was tucked in real nice.

“I didn’t know you jerked off!” You gasped when you felt the cool air of the storage room hit your bare ass, as Pale slid your panties down your legs to hang around your knees.

He kicked your feet apart with those fancy fuckin’ boots of his, freed his cock and rubbed the head of it through your folds which were dripping from a mix of his old come from earlier in the morning, and your fresh slick from watching him be so fucking hot.

“Of course I did, and now look, now look at the two of us, jerkin’ off together.” He slid his cock through your pussy some more before finally nudging his cock properly inside you, filling that aching emptiness that had been making you weak all morning.

“Pale it ain’t jerkin’ off if we’re together.” You couldn’t help but laugh a little, until your laughs dissolved into moans from the way he rolled his hips flush against your ass, pressed you down a little further onto the storage boxes.

“Bullshit, your pussy’s jerkin’ me off – it counts.” He grunted groaned growled in your ear as he draped himself over your back, hands bruising on your hips.

“C’mon fuck me, we gotta be fast there’s people out there waitin’ for us and shit.” You swallowed down all the drool that kept threatening to slide out of your mouth, and Pale only grunted some more as he sped his hips up, built a pace that was brutal, skin slapping hard against skin.

“They can keep waiting, god you’re so fuckin’ good, this pussy’s so good.” He breathed, “All for me, my fuckin’ cunt to have whenever I want it, you like that? You like gettin’ fucked at work like this? Maybe I should come run the place more often, let Fish’s nephew take over the one in the city more often, come and fuck you here in this little room more often.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head and your toes curled in your pretty new heels as your pussy got pounded, the thick squelch of it music to your ears. His cock was so firm inside you, so fuckin’ hard, rock hard, and it speared into you searching for your gspot. You knew he liked to milk your pleasure for as long as he could, but the two of yous really didn’t have the time to spare – so when he found it he dropped a hand to your clit and rolled that at the same time as he thrusted against your walls.

“Pale – yes honey – oh fuck yes, yes please – faster,” You gasped, your eyes flying open and your thighs shaking shaking shaking as he fit inside you so perfectly.

“Shh, shh sweetheart be good for me, be a good girl and suck.” He shoved his free hand into your mouth, gags you on his fingers while he rams into you hard and dirty, shaking the walls of the storage room and threatening to knock down the boxes and bins from the force of his thrusts.

You came together, the both of you cursing low and long as your bodies shook together, his cock still thrusting in and out of you just because he could, because he had to. But this was only a quickie, only a little stolen moment in the storage room, and when he pulls out of your cunt he stuffs those slicked up fingers back inside you, pushes all his come that starts to leak out right back into your pretty pussy, slides your panties back into place and watched hungrily as the fabric began to darken.

“Back to work.” You sighed dreamily, making him just chuckle and smack your ass a little.

And it was, back to work. Back to him showin’ off and impressing you.

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

It wasn’t just you who he impressed, neither. All the regulars at one point or another pulled you aside gently, like one of them, a nice elderly lady with blue hair and huge rimmed glasses, was doin’ now.

“(Y/N) sweetheart who is that man?” Her deep voice is like velvet as she holds out her mug of coffee kindly.

Stevie had been coming to the diner way before you were born, you’re sure of it. But ever since your first day, she had always been there to support you and be patient with you while you were learning the ropes. Not many people gave you that kinda kindness out there in a dog eat dog world, but Stevie came from the life of showgirls and pageants and drag queens, and she knew how far a little kindness could go when you were new at somethin’.

She didn’t do much preforming anymore, content instead to be surrounded by handsome men and live a life of quiet luxury, but still she came into the diner for a cup of coffee and to do the daily New York Times crossword on the newspaper Fish never finished.

“Which, the guy doin’ the shoutin’, or the guy gettin’ shouted at?” You teased, filling the mug up with enough room for her to daintily pour in however much cream and sugar she’s feeling in the mood for that morning.

“Shoutin’, the big guy, the one in the tank top.” She appraised the big guy from over the rim of her mug, and you grinned, your heart filling with pride.

“That’s my Pale.” You said happily, watching him bitch and shout at someone for fucking something up. You didn’t know what it was, you hadn’t really been paying attention, still too high on your own bliss from his cock.

“He new around here?” Stevie asked and you waved the idea away.

“Nah, he manages the diner in the city, the one we just opened up ‘bout a year ago or so.” You explained, making her eyebrows raise over her glasses.

“No kidding! Well next time I make a run into town I’ll be sure to stop by.” She winked, and you grinned, shook your head at her unashamed attitude. You loved and respected that about her, how someone of her age was still going strong, still getting laid.

“He’s so handsome, ain’t he?” You found yourself sighing, watching him get red-faced from shoutin’ and strikin’ up a cigarette, angrily suckin’ it down.

What a guy, you couldn’t help but think.

“Yeah, he really is. You’re a very lucky lady, (Y/N), he reminds me of the nice young men I used to meet down at Fire Island.” Stevie poured the sugar and cream into her coffee with a wistful sort of smile, making you frown the smallest bit.

“What do you mean ‘used to’, Stevie I know you’re still down there gettin’ your kicks, ain’t ya?” You asked, hoping that everything was alright.

“Oh believe me, I try.” She scoffed, “But you know how it is these days, what with…the whole thing that’s goin’ on.”

You think of Robbie, think of so many others, who would end up the same way. Your heart breaks to think of Stevie ending that way too.

“Yeah.” You say softly, with understanding, with empathy. You know, and it weighs heavy on your heart, but you put on a smile anyway, not wanting to get yourself upset, not now.

“Scary times we live in. I’m just grateful to wake up and see the sun shine another day, frankly.” Stevie brightened the mood back up, and you’re grateful for it.

“I’m grateful you do wake up, and I’m grateful you come here, and every day when you do, I’ll be here to serve you coffee, okay?” You winked, topped off the mug when she took a sip.

Just then, the little bell on the front door chimed, and you don’t bother to look over your shoulder just yet to see who it is. The breakfast rush had begun to die down, so you knew there would be a table or two open for whoever it was, depending on how many people they brought with them – and anyway you were with someone.

“Just a second!” You called out, just to make sure they didn’t feel ignored or neglected.

“Do I seat myself or what?” The woman at the door asked, and your blood ran cold, because you recognized that voice.

After just one meeting with the bitch, you recognized her voice.

Slowly, you schooled your face into a neutral expression, and turned to face her – Barbie.

She was standing there in that same fur coat, but this time there were diamonds dripping from her earlobes and hanging around her neck. She smoked a Virginia Slims just as she had the other day, and you tried your very best not to reach out and snap it in half.

Instead, you walked over to her, grabbed a menu and looked at the seating chart, and led her to a little booth by the window. Not Pale’s booth, but somewhere with a lovely view of the street.

“Are you stalking me or something?” You asked, when she sat down prim and proper, huffed and puffed and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear even though it didn’t do much on account of how fuckin’ hair-sprayed it was.

“I’m not here for you.” She said bitterly, and you sucked on your teeth.

“Well he ain’t here.” You lied, not wanting her to cause any more trouble than she already had, not wanting to stress Pale out anymore than he already was.

“Bullshit, I saw you walking together.” She blew smoke in your face, and you made a mental note that if she ordered any food, you’d spit in it before serving it to her.

“He ain’t here for you.” You clarified, not even bothering to wave away the cloud of haze that hung around your face. You had real good practice with dealing with smoke, you wouldn’t let her get the benefit of having it effect you. “You want something, I’ll get it for you, but you’re not bothering Pale.”

“Why the fuck do you keep calling him that? Everybody calls him that here.” She gritted her teeth and flicked her ash on the floor, as opposed to the ashtray that was literally right in front of her on the table.

“That’s what he introduced himself as, that’s what we call him. We respect chosen names around here.” You made a point of saying, before lifting the pot you were holding and asking, “Coffee?”

“I’ll take a mimosa.” Barbie shook her head, and you wanted to strangle her.

“We don’t have mimosas.” You said instead, and for whatever fucking reason, she’s shocked by this.

“You don’t have mimosas?” Barbie acts scandalized, and your patience for her was wearing thinner and thinner by the minute.

“Of course we fucking don’t have mimosas – look we’re not some fancy brunch bar on a tropical island like you’re used to, okay? We got coffee, tea, milkshakes, egg creams, soda, juice and water but we ain’t got mimosas.” You snapped, ready to walk away and call someone to come get rid of her.

She must have noticed, because she sighed dramatically and nodded.

“Coffee’s fine.” She said, holding out her cup.

“I know you’re not here to order anything, so please, do me a favor and just leave, okay?” You poured her coffee, and hoped that maybe she’d have some sense to cut her losses with whatever she was trying to pull.

“No I want to talk to you.” She sighed again, “I lied earlier, I came here for you, to talk to you.”

There’s honesty in her eyes, and you hate that, because you ain’t ever seen that before. You’ve only met the woman twice, but this was the first sincere expression that had crossed her face, so you find yourself pursing your lips into a straight line.

“Wait here.” You said finally, before walking to the back.

He was working on something in the office, sifting through paperwork. You didn’t know what it all was, but he was dressed up nice and normal, his stint in the kitchen finished for the day. You almost didn’t want to bother him, not with this, not with something like this, but it didn’t feel right to not tell him.

“Pale?” You asked gently, not wanting to startle him the way you sometimes did when he was engrossed in his work.

“Yeah sweetheart?” He asked, looked up at you and patted his thigh.

You went easily, sat yourself down on his lap and tucked your head on his broad broad broad shoulder, padded jacket making him so wide, even though he don’t need the help.

“If I tell you something you gotta promise to not get mad, okay?” You didn’t know how else to say it.

“That fuckin’ guy botherin’ you again? I swear to god I’ll beat the shit outta him honey you say the fuckin’ word and I’ll – ” Pale got all riled up, and you smiled sadly because you wished it were that easy.

“It’s her, she’s here. She wants to talk to me, but hey listen – ” You cut yourself off because he was already getting ready to jostle you off his lap and go storm the fuckin’ diner to get rid of her, so you clamp your hands on his cheeks and force his head to turn towards you. “Hey, look at me. I’m going to try and talk some sense into her, woman to woman. I’m going to figure out what she wants and then I’m going to get her to leave, okay? I don’t want you comin’ out and getting all angry, please, please stay in here for me for a while.”

“I don’t – ” He shook his head, but you kissed him, real deep.

“Do you trust me?” You whispered, when you pulled away, searched his eyes. You saw panic there, and your heart broke for him.

“O’course I do.” He whispered back, chewing his lips and the inside of his cheek with those perfect crooked teeth of his.

“Then stay in here. I don’t need your blood pressure going through the roof over this bitch alright? I’ll come back here and tell you all about it when she’s gone.” You said, getting up off his lap.

“I trust you, it’s her I don’t trust.” He caught your hand in between his own bear paws, and you only smiled at him.

“She ain’t gonna tell me anything that’ll make me change my mind about you.” You promised, and with that, he let you go.

She’s still sitting there when you return, thankfully. You were mildly worried that she wouldn’t listen, and would come storming into the fuckin’ office and cause a scene like she had at the apartment. But there she was, smokin’ her Virginia Slims and drinking her coffee, grimacing at the traffic that passed by the window.

You put the coffee pot on a warmer near the kitchen, and slid into the bench seat opposite of her, crossing your hands on the table.

“Before I even let you say anything, I have to ask, why now?” You started, because you were genuinely curious.

“Why now what?” She looked at you like you had two heads, and you could see how this would resort to a screaming match, could see exactly why Pale and her spent so much time yelling.

“The fuck am I talkin’ to, a brick wall?” You grumbled, “Why now as in why are you all of a sudden interested in him again? Why, after all these years, do you suddenly give a shit? After everything you’ve done to him – ”

“Everything I did? You don’t know, you don’t even know the half of the shit he put me through.” Barbie bared her teeth at you like some feral thing, and you figured you know what, let her get it all out.

“What’d he put you through Barbara, tell me.” You gestured for her to spill.

Once you did, the floodgates were open.

“He was never home! Do you know how hard it is to raise two kids on your own? You can’t even imagine, can’t even fathom the thought of having to care for two small children all by yourself – he left me alone in the house all day every day, would come home sometimes at five or six o’clock in the mornin’ when the kids were just waking up, and he’d come home a greasy fuckin’ mess, a disgusting slob, workin’ in the kitchens all day. I wanted kids desperately and he didn’t want any, but he had them anyway and if you have kids you have to take care of them.”

She said it all so quickly and so easily, it was as if she’d complained about him a hundred thousand million times, it felt like she was reading from some sort of script, a monologue memorized inside her brain.

“Where did you work?” You asked, when she took a shaky drag of her cigarette.

“What do you mean?” She asked back, and you really were getting tired of having to repeat yourself.

“Ya know, how did you financially support the family?” You explained, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“What the fuck are you talking about I didn’t do any fucking work, I stayed home with the kids, that’s work enough.” She scoffed, and you bit back any comments, just shrugged.

“What else did he do to you?” You asked, and she went off.

“The drugs, god the fucking drugs. He was hopped up all the time, all the fucking time. I don’t think the kids ever saw him sober, between the coke or the booze. I would scream at him all fucking night for shit like that, when he came home like that. My god I would scream, how could you do this to yourself? Night after night. It was murder on my throat.”

“He always wanted to have the dirtiest sex – the kind of sex that lands you in hell, you know. I never agreed to it, never agreed to anything other than pure and simple missionary but god, even the thought of it felt so fuckin’ dirty I couldn’t stand it. He would get so mad, ask me why I even bothered if I was gonna just go clean him out. As if I needed a third fuckin’ kid to take care of!”

“You know he’s got connections to the mob? That’s why I had to go down to fuckin’ Miami and live with my parents – he’d get into some fights with some guys at a bar for makin’ fun of little Robbie, and the next goddamn thing I know, there’s some guys at my door knockin’ sayin’ if Jimmy don’t leave them alone, they’ll kill me and the kids! We almost had to go into witness fuckin’ protection!”

“He was a lousy gift giver, always fucked something up. If I wanted a white coat he’d get me black, if the kids wanted a train he’d get them a car, it was a mess. It was like he didn’t fucking know us at all – probably because he was never home. It got to the point where we just asked for money to buy ourselves shit because we couldn’t count on him to deliver anything right.”

“All we ever did was yell. He’d come home and he wouldn’t listen to me so I’d yell to make him hear me, and he still wouldn’t listen. It was fucking ridiculous. So yes, I left him, because I couldn’t take it anymore, and I thought he was going down a path that was going to put our kids in danger. But now, now he’s turning his life around. He’s got a real good job with the Philharmonic, making good money to support the family, and maybe we can have another try.”

After her speech, you’re dumbfounded. You’re stunned, how a woman could be so callous, so cruel to someone who obviously cared about her so much. Or at least, cared once upon a time.

You almost don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything for a real long time.

Maybe it was only a couple seconds, or maybe it was an hour, or maybe it was a minute, you didn’t know.

But eventually, eventually you furrow your brow and take a deep sigh, and you don’t even bother to look at her because you don’t want to see her face, it’ll make you sick.

“So, let me get this straight. You left him because he worked long and hard hours to provide for you and his children, who are all so ungrateful that you scream at him when he gets a minute to himself, and he sometimes got in trouble for defending his gay brother. You left him because you couldn’t take not being waited on hand and foot, even though he did do that for you, gave you whatever you wanted, but it wasn’t good enough. And now you’re back because you hear he’s got more money you want to leech out of him, in addition to the money he already sends you to keep you afloat – which is much kinder than I would have done for you if it were me. Did I miss anything?”

And now it was her turn to be stunned shocked scandalized. She was expecting you to side with her, but if anything, it only turned you against her more. You wanted nothing to do with this woman, nothing at all.

“You’re a real cunt, you know that?” Barbie asked, more of a rhetorical question.

“Did I miss anything?” You repeated, and she slumped back in her chair, all the answer you needed. “Let me tell you something about Pale.”

“I don’t want to hear – ” She shook her head but you cut her off with a steely glare.

“No, it’s my turn to talk, your turn to listen.” You snapped, loud enough for the people around you to turn their head, but not loud enough to hold anyone else’s attention.

Barbie looked like she’d never been interrupted like that before, and you wondered if maybe she hadn’t.

“The first time we ever met, he was coked up out of his mind, and fucked me so hard I couldn’t walk the next day, and you know what? I cooked him breakfast the next morning, and he almost cried about it, because he couldn’t remember the last time anybody, ever cooked for him.” You said, and you thought to yourself that if you smoked, you’d be in desperate need for a cigarette right now.

“And I thought to myself, somebody this big and important – you could tell he’s important, you know? Could tell with the way he dresses and walks and talks, he acts like he owns the whole wide world. That ain’t true of course, but he’s sure got the confidence for it, he owns something. Somebody this big and important’s gotta have someone taking care of him, someone to go home to at night, someone to love him. He’s got so much love to give, somebody’s gotta be there to take it.”

You couldn’t look at her, so you look out the window instead. You look at his shiny black car in the lot, and you remind yourself of how the first time you ever saw it, how you thought it looked like the nicest thing that’d ever been parked there.

You still think that.

“But night after night he’d go home alone, he’d leave the apartment alone, he’d eat and sleep alone. I could tell, I saw since my apartment’s right across that little street there. He’s big and brash and loud, but he’s gotta be lonely. A person can’t be all by themselves for that long and not get lonely. He’s a solver, Pale is. He solves everyone’s problems. You got a problem, you call Pale. Whether it’s the restaurant he managed before meetin’ me, or problems of friends, problems of family, he solved them. Nobody ever did anything for Pale, nobody was ever a solver for Pale.”

“What’d he solve for you?” Barbie asked, and for once, there was no malice in her voice.

“I was lonely too.” You said simply, toying with the little thing of wrapped silverware there at the placemat in front of you. “I didn’t think there was anybody out there for me, and that was okay, for a time. I never got my chance at settling down with a white picket fence, two kids and a dog in the yard, and that was okay too. But I would come home late at night all by myself, and so would he, and I would think you know, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be alone together.”

You thought back to those first nights, those first times when he would talk to you out of his fucking mind, would hold you too close and cry in your hair.

“But god, once I started knowing him, I mean really knowing him, it was like I ain’t ever met anyone like that before. Someone that vulnerable and that insightful and that wise, all wrapped up in a man who could come crashing through the door and nearly take it off its hinges because he missed me.”

“He had so much love to give, so much love that he didn’t know where to put it. He didn’t have a place for it all to go, and it was spilling outta his heart like a leaky faucet. He kept stashing it in the wrong places, kept trusting the wrong people with it, and he kept getting hurt. He’s still hurt.”

“And me? Well I thought I was all dried up from love. I absorbed all his emotions like a sponge, and that shocked him, I don’t think he’d ever had someone who would take him so steadily like that. I wanted so badly to give him everything, even though I didn’t have much to give at all. But I gave him what I had, and I took all that he couldn’t handle, and in the end, we fell in love.”

You don’t know how or why, you decided to say all that. But it needed to be said, needed to be put out there into the world. Those words needed to leave your lips. You didn’t like talking about yourself too often, but it needed to be said.

Barbie stubbed out her cigarette then, scoffed to herself.

“Jimmy doesn’t do love.” She shook her head, and for the first time you see the age in her face, the toll that this relationship had taken on her.

You don’t pity her for it, but you do recognize it.

“Pale loves more strongly than anybody I’ve ever known.” You said softly truthfully genuinely, “He just has his own way of showing it. It’s not his fault you never bothered to find out.”

Barbie stood up then, dropped some money on the table for the coffee, and slung her purse over her shoulder.

“How does it feel, being the other woman?” She asked, looking down on you physically and metaphorically, from her spot standing by the table.

“I wouldn’t know.” You said simply.

She didn’t say anything else, just turned around and walked away, out the diner and into her car and off to who knew where.

You’re shaking, and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was the confrontation, maybe it was the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders just then. You didn’t know. You wanted Pale, wanted to be near him, wanted to pour love down his throat like an unending fountain, wanted to make up for all the lost time he spent with that woman.

You went to him, back to the little office where he resumed his paperwork.

His head snapped up when you opened the door, and he stood up quickly, rushed to you.

“Is she gone?” He asked, and suddenly he reminded you of the terrified man crashing into your apartment, eyes too wide and blown black from coke in the grief of his brother.

He wasn’t high, hadn’t yet snorted up a bump, but you opened your arms for him anyway, cradled his head close to your chest anyway.

“She’s gone.” You confirmed, kissed his temple.

“What did she say?” He asked like he was afraid to ask, asked like he was preparing himself for the worst, for your rejection of him.

“I told you, nothin’ that changed my mind about you.” You assured and reassured and reassured him again, “If anything, I think I love you more. I’m sorry you had to deal with her for so long – are still having to deal with her.”

“I’m not, not really. I only deal with you, but I like dealing with you.” He shook his head, looked up at you with those eyes of his, sad nervous brown eyes, that were slowly slowly slowly becoming the cheeky teasing Pale you knew.

“Yeah?” You egged him on, tugged on one of his big ears.

“Yeah, you’re a fuckin’ brat and a half, but you’re mine.” He pinched your nose, gave your face a shake and smacked your ass, willing his hands not to shake.

“Love you.” You said softly then, cupping his cheek tenderly, carefully.

“I know.” He whispered into your palm, “What say you and me take the rest of the day off, Jess said she’d cover for you.”

You laughed and shimmied away from him and his wandering grabbing hands, smacked at his fingers when they went to reach for your ass.

“Pale you can’t just ditch work.” You rolled your eyes – when the door opened.

“He’s not.” Your boss popped his head in, sitcom timing in full effect.

Pale had wrangled you into his arms, and wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon, not even in the face of your boss, of his business partner. You tried not to be embarrassed with the way Pale was hugging you, but you loved being hugged by him so much that it didn’t matter.

“Hey Fish, you feelin’ any better?” You smiled at your old friend.

“Yeah, needed to get out of the house. Had to make sure the diner didn’t burn down to the ground.” Fish chuckled in that dry laugh of his.

“Ha ha.” Pale rolled his eyes then, rested his head against your stomach as your hand came up to his hair and he asked, “Is it okay if we go?”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Fish winked at him, making you groan – he was like your grandpa, you didn’t need that sort of comment.

“Bye.” You said with a laugh, you and Pale detangling enough to only wrap yourselves up in one another as you walked back home.

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

The walk back was nice enough, for being in the afternoon. Everyone was on their lunch breaks, so the streets were busy. You couldn’t help but think Pale’d be pissed if he had to drive, he’d be stuck in the lunch rush.

You don’t say much, on the way back. Mostly content to listening to Pale ramble on and on about the differences between this diner and the one in the city. It was impressive how he noticed everything, every little detail. You still hadn’t been to the diner in the city, maybe one of these days when you both weren’t so busy you’d make him take you.

You walk arm in arm, on the way back. Normally you’d hold hands but you wanted to be closer to him, and he let you, only complained a little about it. He still offered you his jacket, and this time you took it.

You wore it all the way up to the front door of the apartment complex, where Barbie was waiting inside the lobby.

Pale came to a halt, just outside the big glass door.

“Fuck.” He hissed, and your heart sunk.

“I’m sorry I thought she’d leave us alone now.” You sighed, bracing yourself for the worse, wondering briefly if she’d go so far as to shoot you.

Pale opens the door for you, and the two of you step into the lobby, and Barbie doesn’t say a word.

She hasn’t changed or anything, looked exactly the same as you had last seen her only an hour ago at the diner, but now she’s holding something. A thick manilla folder, unmarked on the outside. There are some dents and bends in the cream colored cardstock, and her hands clench around it a few times before finally shoving it in Pale’s direction.

“Is this…” He swallowed hard, taking the folder from her. You held your breath, because you thought you knew what it was, but you weren’t sure, couldn’t be sure until he opened it. But Pale knew, Pale knew and he frowned. “Barbie what kind of fucking game are you playing.”

“Three’s a crowd.” Is all Barbie said, before passively brushing past him, shoulder checking you as she went.

The two of yous watched her go without a word, and he looked to you, before looking down at the folder.

“Holy shit.” You said softly, when the divorce papers came into view, when the dotted lines have been signed by fresh ink, a signature recently given. “…Is that?”

“Let’s go up.” Pale’s hands were shaking now, and you know he wanted to get high.

Or maybe, maybe with this feeling, he already was.

He was all over you, the moment the door to his apartment closed. He dropped the folder on the kitchen counter, scooped you up and held you tight as he walked you through the lavish space, back into the bedroom. He couldn’t stop smiling, wouldn’t stop grinning, and you found yourself smiling real big with him.

“Let me get a look at you?” He asked as he dropped you onto the bed, makin’ you bounce bounce bounce on the mattress.

You laughed and smiled and nodded as he worked the buttons of your uniform dress open, as he shuffled it over your body, freeing your skin to him. He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and pressed open mouthed kisses all across your collarbones and the flesh of your stomach.

“You can look at me for as long as you’d like, you know.” Your hand buried itself in his hair, as he kissed lower and lower and lower, until he was shimmying down your panties and diving into your pussy.

He ate you out like he was starving for it, kissing and sucking marks onto the skin of your inner thigh. Hs lips and tongue paid all their attention to your clit, hard sucks that were designed to get you to come down his throat as quickly as possible.

You didn’t hold yourself back, not one bit, let yourself get lost in the eager pleasure Pale gave you. You were coming into his mouth, gushing all over his chin and fingers in mere minutes. He was going to fuck you later, you both knew that, but this, you didn’t know what this was. Maybe it was a thank you, maybe it was just a quickie, maybe maybe maybe. You didn’t know, but you were glad for it, for the orgasm that washed over your spine.

“What’d she mean – three’s a crowd?” Pale asked, climbing up your body and wiping his chin on the back of his hand, kissing your cheek your neck your tits.

“I don’t know.” You said honestly, because you didn’t. “What’s that old saying?”

“I like that.” Pale said softly, taking your hand in his, “The two of us.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you. And you looked right back. You turned to your side, faced him and traced the shell of his big ear with the tip of your pleasure weak finger, smiled at how he was still dressed in his fancy suit, his silk shirt and tie, even those boots of his. He had been in such a rush to make you feel good, to taste you, that he hadn’t even shucked his own uniform for the day.

He looked at you, and you looked right back. And hadn’t that always been it? Hadn’t it always been the two of yous, always just you two, together out there in the world, braving it and facing it every day.

“As long as you’d like.” You said with a smile.

“Careful sweetheart, I might just ask you for forever.” Pale said, voice just above a whisper, meaning it, meaning every word.

“I’d say yes if you did.” You replied.

And when he looked at you, and you looked at him, you knew he knew that you meant it too.

And the two of you let yourself get lost in each other’s eyes, glad to know that there was one less obstacle in the way of forever. Just you two, the two of yous, two’s company.

The End

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

Thank you all so much for going on this journey with me, I really really hope you liked it. Tagging some Pale pals!

@fullofbees @dreamboatdriver @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler @kyloxfem @fallin-for-youreyes @attorneyl @jedihbic @bens-rose @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @hippieface @tinyplanet-explorers @satansstrawberry @oberynmartell @whiskey-bumblebee @kyloxgirl@helloimindelaware @ah-callie @proxyfoxy @theold-ultraviolence @ktellmeastory @emily-strange @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk–maaan @autumnlovesadam @solotriplets @flapjacques @hidingp @goodboybensolo @dearestalladay @the-marvelatic @miasera @kylo-ben-ren-solo @hazydespair

#pale x reader #pale/reader #pale/you #pale burn this #burn this broadway #adam driver burn this #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #adam driver character #pale fanfic #pale fanfiction #pale smut #pale imagine #my writing #twos company

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