#belladonna fucking black

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception - Chapter Fifteen

The Great Wicked

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

She Knows It by Steven Rodriguez

Roman sat back in a plush chair outside the glass-walled conference room, his dark eyes fixed on the meeting taking place inside. Ever stare at something for too long before your mind just takes it and runs with it? Or you say a word too many times until it loses all meaning? That was how Roman was feeling.

With each passing moment he sat in that chair ‘people watching’ his mind wandered further. The conference room began to look less like a conference room and more like a giant fish tank with its floor-to-ceiling glass walls and bland artwork that was supposed to be thought-provoking but only induced boredom. And let's not forget the generic, mass-produced paintings that were meant to add some color but ended up blending into the beige office walls perfectly. So stimulating.

The ergonomic design of the chairs in the room was reminiscent of strange coral furniture one might find in a fish tank. The potted plants in the corners probably aimed to add some vitality to the sterile environment, which likely saw many long hours and late nights without exposure to any natural stimuli.

Yes, the longer he looked the more it looked like a fish tank. 

The men in their suits became a school of angelfish, drifting aimlessly. The women with their bright colored high fashion frocks like Discus fish effortlessly floating through the water. 

And there, in the center of it all, perched on the table leafing through papers and glancing back at her laptop was Belladonna. Her inky-black hair flowing loosely, cascading down her shoulders like the elegant fins of a betta fish. Dressed in the black jacket, and silver jewelry that Roman had delivered for her that morning made for a striking contrast against that only solidified his odd comparison. Beautiful and elegant. And just like a female beta fish, she seemed to furrow her brow when approached by her male colleagues - he was well acquainted with the difference between her ‘resting bitch face’ and her ‘are you that fucking stupid’ expressions to know that her colegues were not impressing her with theri smart deas. 

Why was he comparing the woman he wanted to fuck to a fish? He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Goddamn it, Cobblepot.” He muttered under his breath, refocusing his attention on the conference room and trying to shake off his annoyance.

Fuck he hated fish.

Roman couldn't understand why people would choose to have fish as pets. 

Fish were about the most ridiculous idea for a pet Roman could think of, but people loved them. Maybe because they were cheap and easy to dispose of when they inevitably died - just a quick flush down the toilet. Some people went for the more exotic options like lionfish, piranhas and even electric eels. But at least those were interesting, lionfish were venomous, electric eels looked scary as fuck and he could certainly see the benefits of having something like piranhas floating nearby. Perfect for getting rid of unwanted guests...or bodies.

Roman didn’t personally like fish. In fact he thought they made horrifically boring bets and he had little interest in pets in the first place. He didn’t even have any as a kid. Though that might have been due to his parents not having any faith in Roman not using them as target practice or something. 

Bit extreme. He didn’t hate animals, he just found them like he found most living things; clingy and annoying. 

He looked back to Belladonna adjusting her glasses and combing a hand through her hair. He liked those glasses on her, he’d have to see if he could convince her to wear a sexy little pencil skirt, then he could live out the sexy librarian thing again, the first time it was for the novelty of it. Not because he particularly liked the woman but hey, a fantasy was a fantasy.

Betafish weren’t boring. 

Hell, females could be so aggressive that they would attack males, nip at them to establish dominance and it could result in injury and even death.

God, he loved a woman who wasn’t afraid to take a bite out of him. It was what he found fascinating about Belladonna, she was afraid of him, no doubt, but she didn’t act like it. Hell, she’d put a gun in his hand and all but dared him to shoot her. Fuck the woman had some balls, her temper flaring like the vibrant fins of a betta.

They were some of the most common fish in aquariums, but commonality didn’t mean less interesting. Hell, diamonds were as common as taxis but that didn’t stop everyone from falling all over themselves saving two months salary for one. Bettas in particular were well liked for their beauty, intelligence and their spunky personalities.

The problem was that most people didn't know how to properly care for them or keep them happy. Instead, they would see these stunning creatures and impulsively buy them, only to place them in tiny fish bowls that were unfit for their needs. Her shabby loft came to mind, a place far below her worth. She'd chosen to keep a low profile, to avoid the limelight that should have been hers. 

Eventually the shimmer in their scales would fade and they’d more than likely be forgotten about. Not Belladonna, she shimmered in a dark room.

Roman blinked, suddenly aware that his mind had been drifting into an almost absurd fantasy about fish. He scowled at the thought, silently cursing Oswald Cobblepot again for filling his head with such useless information. The man had a penchant for talking endlessly about his various collections and interests, and naturally, in his years of knowing Oswald Cobblepot he’d been forced to absorb information about things he didn’t care about whenever they spoke. 

Cobblepot had a thing for penguins and naturally with his collections of oddities at the Cyrus Pinkney Natural History Museum. He also collected seemingly useless information, which he then forced upon Roman in their younger years.

Roman knew far too much about fish for his own personal liking: including tips on how to care for betta fish.

He shook his head, his thoughts went to some strange places when his mind was stagnant like it was currently. 

His fingers tapped impatiently against his leg, the urge to barge into the meeting growing stronger by the second. But he knew she would bear the brunt of those consequences and then he’d be subject to hers. And while Roman was sure he could turn that frustration into something a little more fun with most people, Belladonna wasn’t most people. He sighed, forcing himself to remain seated.

He needed to get a gameboy or something, watching the meeting Belladonna was stuck in wasn’t good for his IQ, he could feel it dropping by the second. And by this point it had to have dropped at least by thirty points, because he’d been waiting for thirty minutes. 

Once he’d focused on their moving lips it had gotten a little bit better, he couldn’t quite read lips but he could make out some words:

"Emergency... Urgent... Expensive… Client… Fired…" Roman whispered under his breath, catching a few words. Roman's eyes flicked to Zsasz, who stood beside him with an air of stoic indifference. "You picking up anything useful?" he asked in a low voice.

“Nope.”

Zsasz shook his head, but Roman wasn’t surprised, he noticed that the man's gaze seemed to be following Belladonna's assistant, Daisy, as she moved around the room. Fair enough, he was Zsasz’s boss, not his goddamned babysitter, it he wanted to eye fuck Daisy; let him. Someone should.

She was too tiny for Romans taste anyway, he liked curves, hips, breasts. Daisy was just too petite for his taste. But judging by the way Zsasz was watching her, it didn’t seem to bother him.

Back to the meeting, it didn’t seem to be wrapping up or getting any better. He knew from the way her brow furrowed and the tenseness in her shoulders that whatever was the topic of discussion wasn’t a very pleasant one. It didn’t look like she was bearing the brunt of anyone's wrath but rather she was trying to untangle a mess. She hadn’t even noticed him there on the chair in the small waiting area and he hadn’t really said or done anything because at first watching her had been somewhat fascinating. Then he made the comparison of the conference room looking like an aquarium and then… Shit. He needed to stop this.

Roman checked his watch again, scowling. Thirty-five minutes now with no sign of the meeting ending. Roman's fingers went back to tapping impatiently on the arm of his chair as he watched Belladonna continue her heated conversation with her boss. 

She threw up her hands, clearly exasperated. His fingers tightened on the armrests of his chair. 

Maybe she finally felt his gaze on her but he seemed to catch Belladonna's attention and she looked at him, he winked at her and she at least smirked at his little flirtatious charm, but she was still clearly strained by the weight of the conversation she was having. 

He knew that look well, it was the look of someone who was surrounded by incompetence or someone who was forced to fix something that wasn’t their problem to begin with. Roman gestured with a nod of his head, urging her to join him outside the conference room. But she only shook her head softly, her expression remaining serious, before turning her attention back to her boss. 

Pulling out his phone, Roman quickly typed a message. 

'Problem, angel?' 

As he hit send, his eyes flicked to Daisy, who often had Belladonna’s cell in her possession, glanced at the notification. She offered Roman a little wave hand, held up a finger then showed the text to Belladonna, and after a brief pause, Belladonna texted back, as her eyes darted back and forth from the phone to whomever was talking 

'Can't talk.'

"Damn it," Roman muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening. 

Well, he couldn’t necessarily be angry, it wasn’t like she was ignoring him. But he still wasn’t wild about being sidelined. He wanted her undivided attention, not this nonsense with clients and deadlines. Frustrated but simply too stubborn to quit, he decided to try another approach and texted Daisy instead. 

‘Everything alright, Daisy? Your latte is getting warm.’

She was sitting at the conference table looking up from a laptop then looking at her phone, her eyes met his as she read the message, and she offered Roman and Zsasz an appreciative smile. They could see the tension in her shoulders begin to ease, if only slightly.

She seemed in a far better mood than Belladonna and offered a smile and twirled her finger around her temple to convey the insanity of what was currently happening. Roman chuckled.

‘Everything alright Daisy?’

She looked like she was struggling to put her thoughts into words and after a minute she got up, whispered something to Belladonna, who looked back and forth between Daisy, Roman, and her boss before giving a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"Finally," Roman murmured, as Daisy excused herself from the conference room. 

The moment the door swung open, a cacophony of raised voices spilled out into the waiting room, as predicted, it wasn’t good.

Daisy emerged looking utterly relieved to be free from the chaos within. As she approached Roman, he got to his feet and held out her iced green tea latte, from the way she was looking at the cold drink one might be tempted to think that Roman was holding out a winning lotto ticket. She gratefully accepted the drink and a quick sip seemed to energize her a bit.

​​"Thank you," Daisy said gratefully, wrapping her hands around the cold cup and taking a long sip. Her expression softened, and she let out a frazzled breath, trying to shake off the tension that clung to her like a second skin.

Zsasz watched the exchange with an amused glint in his eyes, leaning casually against the wall. He gave Daisy a playful wink, which elicited a small smile from her before Roman's deep voice cut through the lingering tension.

“Daisy, Daisy… What’s got my girls so worked up?” She smiled at Romans' endearing ‘his girls’ note. “Bad day?”

She shook her head, “It’s one for the books, that’s for sure.” She took another sip, “Falls into the category of ‘its not our fault but it is our problem’ kind of thing.”

"What's going on?" Roman asked, charming concern coloring his voice.

"It's been absolute chaos since this morning," She began, sweeping a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Long story short, we had a huge post-fashion week photo shoot scheduled with the Gotham Literary Society, but there was some sort of paperwork snafu with the permits. Now we're out of a location and scrambling to find one to accommodate the client."

“Yes, I read about that, the site’s just been restored after a two year long renovation.” Roman added casually. Daisy nodded and emphatically gestured with her hand in confirmation as she took another sip of her coffee.

“Exactly! We need to find another location by tomorrow or we might lose the client, Lauren is pissed and well, everyone is scrambling to figure something out." She explained, frustration creasing her brow. "Her bosses are breathing down her neck, which means she’s breathing down our necks. There's talk that if we lose this client, several people might lose their jobs. It’s literally no one’s fault but someone’s gotta pay, right?" She glanced back at the conference room, worry etched in her features. "We're trying to find a place for the shoot, but it's practically impossible because most popular locations are booked already and have been for months. It's the week after fashion week, after all."

“Big client?” 

“Huge,” She looked around and lowered her voice, “Adrian Blackwood.” Romans face lit up in recognition. “He just debuted his entire collection and lets just say he had other offers for people to work with, we need to figure this thing out but we’re running out of time. He’s expecting the details to be confirmed by the end of the day which is officially in,” She paused and looked at her watch, “Six hours. Any place worth booking is booked out and any place available isn’t worth the trouble.”

"Are you or Belladonna's jobs at risk?" Roman's concern for their well-being was palpable, his fingers tapping against the side of his leg as he awaited Daisy's response.

She hesitated, biting her lip. "I'm not sure. Belladonna might be okay, but I can't say the same for myself. Assistants get fired all the time, we’re a dime a dozen but I’m pretty sure Belladonna would march out with me while giving them all the stiffest middle finger ever.”

Roman scoffed, of that, he had no doubts. Despite Belladonna’s claims of not having any friends, she was loyal, he’d only recently seen just how loyal.

"We can't have that," He said, shaking his head. He looked back at the chaotic conference room, his gaze finding Belladonna's once more. Roman furrowed his brow in thought before an idea struck him. "Daisy, I think I can help," He declared. "Tell her to come speak with me."

Daisy seemed uncertain, glancing between Roman and the ongoing chaos inside the meeting room. She took a deep breath, seemingly weighing the potential consequences, briefly opening her mouth to try and argue but Roman insisted and his tone of confidence seemed to convince Daisy it was worth the interruption. Finally, she shrugged, an air of ‘fuck it’ in her demeanor. 

"What's the worst that could happen?" With that, she turned on her heel and made her way back into the lion's den to relay Roman's message to Belladonna.

Again when the doors opened the tense tone of their words floated out, she whispered to Belladonna who looked between Roman and Daisy, confusion evident on her face. He was pretty sure she was telling Daisy she wasn’t going anywhere but Daisy appeared insistent. And she must have convinced her because Belladonna let out a sigh, rolled her shoulders and reluctantly approached her boss. 

They talked for a minute and her boss didn’t look very happy, clearly unimpressed by Roman's presence, waved her hand dismissively. But after a minute and some vague gesturing with her hands she conceded and Belladonna strode out of the conference room, back rigid and heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. Roman watched her approach, noting the tension in her shoulders and the tight set of her jaw. She wasn’t happy by any means, though she was doing her best to conceal it but the irritation was simply radiating off her.

"Ok, Daisy said you needed to talk to me. Make it quick, Roman, I’m kind of in the middle of something." She snapped, her patience wearing thin.

“I can see that,” He wore something of a smug smile and after a silence long enough to start to get on her nerves, he spoke again before she could bite back with something smart. "Daisy was just telling me about your little predicament. It seems you're in need of a new location for your photoshoot, and quickly.”

"Yes," she replied tersely, impatience and exasperation seeping through her words. "But can we please get to the point? My boss is already in a pissy mood and I’m pretty sure I’m next on the chopping block if I don’t get my ass back in there."

"Question?" He said, clearly not bothered by her eagerness to wrap up their conversation.

"Fine, what's your question?" His leisurely questioning was starting to grate on her nerves, and she couldn't help but glance back to her boss, who seemed to be keeping a watchful eye on their conversation.

"Am I a joke to you?" Roman tilted his head looking both disappointed and confused. Sort of reminded her of a puppy with its ears half up and half down trying to suss out a high-pitched sound.

Belladonna stared at him, confused. "What?”

"Use my club," 

Belladonna stared at Roman, her dark eyes wide in surprise. "Use your club?" Momentarily thrown off balance by his unexpected offer.

"Yes," he said, his voice low and smooth. "It's mine to do with as I see fit, it’s empty during the day, and should have more than enough space to accommodate your shoot. You can use the space however you need.” Roman smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “and you can vouch for its legitimacy since it's up-to-date with all the necessary permits and licenses."

"Would that help?" he asked, a hint of smugness creeping into his voice.

"Yes, it would," Belladonna admittedly a bit lost for words

She hesitated, shifting on her feet. The offer would solve all her problems for the shoot and might even put her in a better spot for work. She’d obviously need to run it by her boss.

As if reading her mind, Roman gestured towards the conference room.

"Go. Run it by your boss." Roman said with a playful flick of his wrist, shooing her away as if she were a mischievous cat lingering too long by the cream. His dark eyes twinkled with amusement at her hesitation, a side of him few got to witness. "Do you need a slap on that gorgeous ass to get you moving?"

Her eyes flashed with something sharp, but she bit back a retort and turned on her heel, striding back toward the conference room before Roman could follow through with what she hoped was only a joke. As she spoke to her boss, he could see the shock register on her boss’s face. She glanced at Roman, then back to Belladonna then back to Roman, who allowed himself a triumphant smile, knowing he was about to be the hero.

Belladonna motioned for Roman to join them, trying not to let her surprise – or her gratitude – show too openly. As he stepped through the door, the room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. All eyes were on him, but this time, he was not the source of any problems. In fact, he was the solution – a role that felt surprisingly gratifying. With his charming smile and easy manner, he greeted Belladonna's boss.

“Ms. Preston, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” His smooth tone eased the tension in the room as effectively as a tranquilizer. 

"Mr. Sionis, this is a pleasant surprise," Laura said, her demeanor considerably improved as she reached out to shake Romans’ outstretched hand. 

“Oh, please, Roman is fine.” 

"Belladonna here, tells me you're interested in leasing out your club for our shoot." She crossed her arms over her chest, head tilted as though she wasn’t sure she bought it. 

Surely there had to be more to it, right? 

“Leasing? Oh, not at all. Can’t have a face this gorgeous wearing anything other than a smile.” Roman's gaze drifted to Belladonna before turning back to Laura. "I'm more than willing to assist, by providing my space free of charge," He responded smoothly. "It won't be a problem."

Laura was one of the most assertive people Belladonna knew, never one to be told what to do, never one to let a man swoop in and save the day… Yet, here they were… Either the situation was worse than Belladonna had initially thought and Laura couldn’t afford to lose this client, or her boss too, was drawn in by Romans’ charm, she wouldn’t be the first or the last. Hell, it happened to Belladonna more times than she could count.

Laura eyed Roman skeptically, her expression guarded "So let me get this straight, Mr. Sionis. You're offering us the use of your club; one of the most exclusive night spots in Gotham for our shoot, free of charge?"

Roman nodded, a nonchalant smile playing on his lips. "That's correct, Laura. Consider it my contribution to the arts."

Laura shook her head incredulously. "Well, I'm afraid I can't accept your offer without some form of compensation. Your club is a prime location, and we can't just take advantage of it for free." Laura stood clicking her pen several times as she contemplated her next move. "But, you know, Roman," She began, "I think we could generate some fantastic publicity for your club through the shoot. If you’re unwilling to accept monetary compensation, maybe some good publicity in the fashion industry might suffice."

"Oh? How so?" 

A smirk played on his lips as if he didn’t understand what Laura was proposing, he knew damn well. But he was at least smart enough to know that he had to let her feel like she had a say in this whole thing.

"Well, I have it on good authority that the designer behind the collection is a huge fan of your club. Since your club would be the backdrop it seems wholly inappropriate if we don’t see the man of the hour. And I happen to know for a fact that the designer has a fantastic piece that only a man like yourself could do justice to.” Roman's ego swelled at the thought of being part of a fashion shoot. “It would be great exposure for both the club and the collection."

"I like the sound of that," he replied, nodding thoughtfully. "But one condition."

Laura raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what's that?"

"Belladonna does the shoot," Roman declared, his gaze drifting to where Belladonna stood, sorting through fabric samples. "She's got the skill, the eye. She'll be perfect."

Belladonna's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden turn of events. She opened her mouth to object, but before she could speak, Laura cut in.

"I think that's a fantastic idea," Laura said, flashing a quick smile at Belladonna. "It would add a personal touch to the campaign. We all know Belladonna has quite the eye for male beauty,"

Belladonna hesitated for a moment, then nodded, reluctantly agreeing. She knew she didn't have much choice in the matter.

"Great," Roman said, extending his hand. "It's settled then."

"On behalf of the entire team, thank you, Roman. And I look forward to the proofs,” She turned to Belladonna, “Don’t let me down, Belladonna. This goes well and I think you’ll have earned that bonus we talked about.”

“You got it, Laura,” She replied coolly.

“Alright, then let’s go make the client happy, I'll let him know about the change of venue, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” Roman offered her a card from his jacket pocket.

Roman extended his hand, sealing the agreement with a firm handshake. "My pleasure, Laura. I hope you’ll find time to stop by, and if your client has any questions, don't hesitate to give them my card. I'm always happy to accommodate."

As the bubble of stress burst open like a fragile balloon, the aquarium fish seemed to have taken a cue swimming away. Daisy wrapped Roman in a hug that could rival the strength of an ant and crowned him a lifesaver, before following the other fish out of the conference room. Belladonna collapsed onto the table, hands rubbing her temples in relief… or maybe just exhaustion at the fact that it was only noon. Roman playfully nudged her with his foot, 

“Look at me on my white horse, saving the day!” He mused so proudly, “Seems it got you a bit of cred with your boss, didn’t it? And what was that, something about a bonus too?”

“And now I have an entire shoot to direct.” She replied with a tired smirk and a nod. “And yeah, she’s been dangling that bonus since the beginning of the year.”

He shrugged, prowling closer, caging her in with his arms as he braced them on the table behind her. The scent of his cologne enveloped her, dark and sensual. 

“I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.” He paused, “You’re welcome by the way.”

She tilted her head at his playful remark, giving his belt a tug, pulling him into a kiss. Her lips brushed his several times, by now they were both used to the stares and quick little instances of phones being pulled out during his lunchtime visits. 

“Thank you.”

“You know angel, I have to say, I think these conference room meetings are starting to grow on me, I’m finding them very stimulating…”

“Keep it in your pants, Sionis, mama’s working.” His eyebrows shot up at that one, and his chest inhaled a deep controlling breath.

“Easy kitten, don’t forget who holds the cards here.”

“Let's see them.” Her mood had considerably improved but Roman found that was usually the case after he kissed her, “Full house beats a flush.”

Roman shook his head, a half-smile playing on his lips as he held out her coffee. Today, it was different - her usual rose-infused mocha, but iced. The cool container melted against her skin as she took it from him, the condensation leaving small droplets on her fingertips. 

"The girl at the shop insisted you try it iced with the warming weather," Roman explained, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"And you actually took her suggestion? Shocking," She replied, taking a whiff of the sweet aroma before taking a tentative sip. 

"Jokes on her, if you don't like it I'm burning that little cafe to the ground..." Despite his playful threat, she could tell Roman was only half serious. But the drink was surprisingly delicious, and she couldn't help but wear a pleasantly surprised expression as she took another sip. 

“Good?” He asked with a smug look, she held the drink out to him but he shook his head, so she took another sip and leaned forward to give him a kiss, slipping her tongue past his lips for a rose-infused mocha-flavored kiss. He seemed a little more interested in tasting the coffee now.

"And so the little coffee shop that could, lives another day... Have you eaten?" His concern might have been slightly pandering but it was still kind of cute.

Roman looked hard at her searching for any signs of deceit, Belladonna seemed very unamused at now having two people inquiring as to her dietary needs. “Been too busy.”

Roman reached into the small brown bag that had gone unnoticed until now, revealing a box of french macarons that were almost too beautiful to devour. After careful consideration, he chose a bright pink one adorned with delicate swirls and a sprinkle of glitter. The aroma of rich chocolate mousse wafted through the air as he playfully commanded:

"Open up." 

Belladonna licked her lips in anticipation before parting them to accept the treat. She nipped at his fingers, savoring the velvety texture of the macaron and the warmth of his skin against her lips. As she chewed, Roman chuckled and shook his head.

 "What am I going to do with you, kitten? Tie you down and force you to eat?" Belladonna shrugged nonchalantly, enjoying the banter between them as well as how Romans eyes did that thing again; where they flared up and there was a little surge of something dark trying to get out.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to drag him into the nearest closet.

Professionalism be damned.

“Kitten, don’t test daddy’s patience…” He warned her with a growl, his voice low and dangerous.

Belladonna wasn’t quite sure what came over her but she couldn’t stop the words that slipped past her lips. 

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

He jerked her forward into a hard kiss, and she was pretty sure she could feel that last little strand of his self-control pulled taut ready to snap as his tongue delved into her mouth and his hands slipped over her ass, lifting her onto the table. Standing between her legs, he pressed himself against her, feeling the heat of their bodies meld together. A guttural groan escaped his lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tickling the nape of his neck.

Oh, this naughty little kitten of his…

“You like to tease me, don’t you, Kitten?” His voice was gravelly and strained in between kisses, panting heavily before finally breaking away just long enough to speak a few words.

“I’m about five seconds from dragging you into an empty office and bending that sweet ass over a desk, Belladonna, and I don’t care who hears." He kissed her again, harder this time, “You wanna play like that? Call me daddy?” He grinned a wolfish lear against her lips, “I’ll make you fucking scream it.”

A knock at the glass window pulled them both from the edge of the abyss they were standing on, looking over to the windows, Zsasz stood with his back to them, he had knocked on the glass, and several people in passing were hurrying away. No doubt they must have snapped a few pictures that would be splashed over the tabloids and gossip rags tomorrow, hell, maybe even today, it was still early.

“Kitten,” His deep voice rumbled through the air, causing her heart to skip a beat. He paused and straightened his perfectly-tailored jacket, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room before landing on her. 

“One of these days I’m not gonna care how many people are around, and if you get fired, I’ll just get you another job somewhere else.”

“My office is down the hall.” She tried to maintain a professional demeanor but felt her cheeks flush under his intense gaze.

“Temping as that is, Angel,” He used her nickname with a hint of amusement in his voice, “I did come for more than just your afternoon coffee and to check to make sure you’ve eaten.”

“Has something happened with the cops?” Her curiosity was piqued by his serious tone.

“No,” His expression turned grave, “Does the name Maria Lopez mean anything to you?”

She furrowed her brow, trying to recall any information about the name. After a minute of concentration, she shook her head. 

“No,” she answered honestly.

“No one? Not a teacher, a maid, a friend, nobody?”

“No, I didn’t get along with most of my teachers. Our maids were mostly Italian or Greek, and after what happened with Olivia, I didn’t have many friends. Plus, my father wouldn’t allow anyone with even a hint of Hispanic heritage near me,” 

Roman looked confused by this revelation. 

“His best friend was Spanish,” she continued, “They had some kind of falling out between their families a long time ago. My father saw anyone with Hispanic blood as someone not to be trusted.” Roman nodded in understanding; he knew the type of person her father was. “Why do you ask?”

Roman hesitated before offering up what he knew, “If I tell you this, you do nothing. Do you understand me?” 

His voice took on that hard quality again, the one that readied her fight or flight instinct, he was serious. She nodded slowly, but he looked expectantly.

"Okay, I promise. What's going on? Who is Maria Lopez?" She asked.

He lowered his voice, “I think that’s the alias your mother has been using.”

Her jaw dropped. “You found her?”

He shook his head. "Not yet. I'm still verifying some things, but I needed to know if that name meant anything to you."

"If it's an alias my father chose for her, I never would've known to look for it." Understanding dawned on Roman's face as he nodded. "Where is she?" She demanded, feeling a surge of hope mixed with fear.

"I can't say for sure," He admitted.

“I don’t believe you.” His eyes sharpened. "You wouldn't ask me something like this if you didn't have reason to believe she was out there."

He was amused by her straight talk and she was right, fact was he had a lot more than he let on. 

“Maybe I do have something. But,” She visibly deflated, “Nothing happens until I can verify what I’m looking at.” He seized her chin, “You do nothing. You don’t even so much as Google that name, do you hear me, Belladonna Black?”

She hadn’t been called by her full name in years and the way Roman said it… Well, it had her wondering if she could change his mind about the whole office rendezvous.

“You’re really gonna find her?” He was trying to be serious and maybe a bit intimidating but she didn’t see it, she saw him assembling pieces to a puzzle she hadn’t even been able to find pieces to in four years. 

“I said I would. Anyone jumping the gun could result in more blood spilled. Do you remember what we talked about the other night after Stan left?” She nodded and gave a feint, ‘Yeah’ It was easy in the span of an evening with Thai takeout and sleeping in the safety of his cozy bed to forget just how real the game they were playing was. 

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” She took hold of his hand that gripped her chin and kissed it. 

“Alright. You’re going to finish out your day and I’m picking you up at eight, not a moment later. Any other work you have to do will have to be done remotely, understand me?” 

“You kidding, I’m a hero by association today, it won’t be hard to leave by eight.”

“Be ready.” She nodded, “Now, I need to be going, Angel. I have some errands to run and before you ask; don’t.”

Roman pulled her in for one more kiss, his hands settling on her hips, maybe a little lower than might have been appropriate for a goodbye kiss but she didn’t seem to mind. It was slow and leisurely, a gentle exploration of her mouth and she could feel the warmth of his wet tongue teasing the seam of her lips. With a satisfied 'Mmm' and a heavy restrained sigh, Roman pulled back, leaving her wanting more. But before she could protest, in Roman fashion he kissed the palm of her hand, his lips lingering for a moment before he left the box of macarons on the conference table, a gesture of sweetness in contrast to his confident and seductive demeanor.

“Eat up kitten, but not too much. We’re going out tonight.”

The hands of the clock on the wall had inched closer to six pm, casting long shadows across the nearly deserted office. Belladonna, now left to her own devices after sending Daisy home with Lloyd, focused intently on her task at hand: finalizing preparations for tomorrow's shoot. The responsibility of running it all loomed over her, a weight she now bore thanks to Roman's influence.

Belladonna adjusted her glasses and diligently worked through the shot list, making necessary adjustments and confirming equipment availability. She double-checked every detail, ensuring that everything would be in working order for the big day. Somehow knowing Roman would be there not only watching but participating made her a bit anxious.

Her gaze momentarily drifted to the corner of her desk where the mostly empty box of macarons caught her eye. A small smile played on her lips as she recalled Roman's 'doting boyfriend' act earlier that day. She reached for the box, taking out the last one; a chocolate and pistachio macaron, and lifted it to her nose, inhaling its sweet aroma.

She’d never say it outloud but the Roman made one hell of a fake boyfriend when he tried, almost fooled her, before taking a satisfying bite.

As she chewed, her mind wandered back to Roman—his enigmatic presence and the powerful connections he held. She was putting a lot of trust in him, the feminist in her didn’t like how dependant on him she was and she felt a pang of unease. But at this point Roman had had multipl opportunities to either cut her loose or let her die and each time he did neither. 

The clock continued to tick away, marking the passage of time as she worked tirelessly to ensure tomorrow's shoot would go off without a hitch. And all the while, Roman Sionis' presence continued to linger in the back of her mind.

She redirected her attention to the list of garments for tomorrow's shoot, pulling out the photo of the piece Roman would be modeling, an intricately detailed, dark and alluring outfit that seemed to perfectly match his enigmatic persona.

"Damn, he is going to look incredible in this," Belladonna whispered under her breath, feeling a sudden surge of excitement at the prospect of capturing him on camera. 

The past week had been a whirlwind, and despite the chaos and danger, but oddly enough she felt perfectly safe. And the notion of Roman being close by while she worked, working in his club was oddly comforting.

She still knew practically nothing about him, and their entire relationship seemed to be built on a foundation of dependency and manipulation. 

Slumping into her chair she stared at the open search engine on her laptop thinking back to the last time she Googled him and how she didn't find much. At the time it had been disheartening but now she had more information on him, especially after her conversation with Cobblepot. She has a better idea of what to look for. She decided to try again, beginning her search at Gotham Preparatory School for Boys. 

As she browsed through the website, with some quick math she found the graduating classes section and quickly calculated which year Roman would have graduated. Once she located his year, her eyes were immediately drawn to his graduation picture – stone-faced, serious, and undeniably gorgeous. 

She studied the class photo, she noticed the space that people seemed to give Roman, as though he was a shark among a school of fish. It only confirmed Cobblepot's description of him – magnetic yet unnerving. People were afraid of him even at only eighteen. 

"Roman Sionis, man of mystery…”

Roman wasn’t Valedictorian and hadn't received any special awards or honors. However, his grades must have been decent enough for him to participate in extracurricular activities, and he was a busy boy. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she read the list – debate team, high-ranking chess competitor, social clubs, polo, squash, fencing, boxing, equestrianism, and swimming. 

None of those sounded like Roman but given the prestigious nature of the school, she suspected his parents likely had something to do with Roman’s busy schedule; something she could relate to. The thing that surprised her the most was the chess thing, she didn’t see Roman as having the patience for that sort of thing but by all accounts, he was very good.

"Of course, they'd want their son involved in everything," she mused, thinking of how similar Roman's upbringing seemed to her own.

Though she knew she should focus on the upcoming photo shoot, the enigma of Roman Sionis proved too enticing to resist. 

She clicked further into the archives next, finding a treasure trove of photos featuring Roman in his school uniform. The crisp white shirt and sharp black blazer and his immaculately styled hair seemed to be precursors to his current love for suits. Even as a teenager, he exuded an air of confidence and danger that was undeniably attractive. His stern expression, reminiscent of a young James Dean or Clint Eastwood, gave him a "resting bastard face" that somehow only served to heighten his appeal.

"Damn," she whispered to herself, unable to look away from the smoldering intensity in his eyes. Many of his photos possessed the quality to them that his eyes seemed to follow you wherever you went.

There was an alumni section dedicated to post-high school achievements like colleges, civic honors, and prominent family legacies where Roman was mentioned as a successful club owner, nothing more. There was no mention of any continuing connection with the school, but it did lead her to a page dedicated to significant contributors – including Roman's father, Richard Sionis.

Richard's gray hair betrayed his age, though there was still a strong resemblance between him and his son. Unlike Roman, Richard wore a smile in his pictures – but it appeared rehearsed and artificial, reminding Belladonna of the way her own father would grin for the cameras. It was clear that Roman had inherited his father's good looks, but there was something more genuine in his features, less tired and fake than the elder Sionis.

Belladonna continued to read about Richard's long-standing support of the school, noting his service on the board of trustees and involvement in numerous fundraisers. It seemed that the Sionis family had a history of influence and power, making her wonder what role Roman's upbringing played in shaping the man he had become.

Who was Roman Sionis before he became Roman Sionis?

She stared at the screen, not ready to pack it in just yet.

She didn’t know if he went to college or where to look and she really had no idea what happened to him after he graduated, only that at some point his family had severed all ties with him and Roman had begun a criminal life. He had mentioned he’d done time in Blackgate, but she wasn’t sure of the reason. The criminal stuff didn’t bother her at this point, she mostly wanted to know about his family drama. Because personal family drama was irritating, someone else’s family drama was entertainment.

"Alright then," She muttered under her breath, typing in the keywords ‘Roman Sionis’ and ‘Blackgate’ then hitting enter.

Over a dozen arrest records appeared on the screen, and Belladonna felt her heart tighten in her chest. Most of the records showed Roman posting bail up until he was twenty-one, but then the pattern changed. The bail postings stopped, and he started doing more time in jail. She suspected this may have been when his parents severed ties with him, but she couldn't find anything concrete to prove it. 

Not surprising, a family like his was likely to have as many skeletons in their closets as hers did and like hers; they stayed locked up tight away from prying eyes.

She clicked on the last arrest record, dating back to when Roman was twenty-three. Her stomach churned as the mugshot revealed several injuries to his face – a black and slightly swelling eye, bloodied cheeks, and a split lip. He looked like he had been beaten very badly, yet his smug expression remained intact, as if daring the world to knock him down further.

"God, Roman..." 

Despite his injuries, there was something about his defiant gaze that made her feel a flicker of admiration. It was clear that Roman refused to be broken, even when the odds were against him. She could practically hear him boasting ‘You should see the other guy.’

Aggravated assault, property damage, trespassing, criminal menacing, assault with a deadly weapon, possession of illegal weapons, resisting arrest, and battery – it was an extensive rap sheet that painted a portrait of a man prone to violence and chaos. 

"Roman, you really don't make things easy, do you?" Belladonna muttered under her breath, feeling a strange mix of concern and fascination. 

As she researched further into the dates of his arrests, Belladonna stumbled upon the court case where Roman was tried for these numerous charges. Limited to a mid-tier lawyer, she expected him to suffer the consequences of his actions, yet one by one, he managed to beat most of the charges. It seemed as though evidence had conveniently disappeared or witnesses had mysteriously chosen not to step forward.

"Interesting," She mused, intrigued by the power Roman appeared to wield even in his darkest moments. "How did you manage all of this?"

Her search eventually led her to the final charge that stuck: tax evasion. The out-of-place accusation left her puzzled, as it seemed far removed from the violent nature of the other crimes.

"Tax evasion? That's what they got you on, Roman?" Belladonna shook her head, disbelief etched across her face. Frustration gnawed at her as she tried to find more information on the bizarre charge but came up empty-handed. “Well, the permits make a little more sense now…”

The courtroom photos were grainy, like a lower quality paparazzi shot. His expression was one of pure disgust and irritation as he stood before the judge, his dark eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. The gavel came down, sealing his fate: three years in Blackgate Penitentiary.

She couldn't find anything on Roman's prison stint without hiring a private investigator or formally requesting court documents and that required the Freedom of Information Act which was time consuming and could be expensive and it wasn’t exactly subtle. And for some reason, she didn't want Roman to know she was digging into his past.

Her eyes narrowed as she typed in a new search query – this time focusing on Roman's initial arrest that had landed him in Blackgate Penitentiary. As she skimmed the articles, she discovered it was tied to an assault case against a local criminal named Tony Zucco.

"Tony Zucco?" 

A feeling of déjà vu washed over her. She knew the name sounded familiar but couldn't quite place it. Frustrated, she opened a new tab and quickly Googled the man.

As the search results loaded, Belladonna found herself staring at a squeaky clean image of Tony Zucco – a self-made man from Old Gotham with a very old school mafia gangster look to him. He looked like the type of man her father surrounded himself with. 

The more she searched, the less information she seemed to find about the altercation between Roman and Tony. It was as if their conflict had been purposefully scrubbed from the internet. However, one detail remained consistent throughout the scarce information available – Roman had lost the fight, but not without causing some serious damage.

"Damn," Belladonna breathed out.

What did Tony Zucco do to earn Roman’s wrath? What could have possibly ignited such a violent confrontation between the two? Her instincts told her it wasn’t exactly a fight over a seat at the bar.

The case was open and shut. As far as she could tell, he’d done his three years and he was released on the date, not a day more or less. There were a few pictures from paparazzi’s of Roman after his release and he looked harder, features darker and sharper, grittier. But she couldn’t imagine that three years of prison was easy on a man like Roman who had known luxury his whole life.

Gotham was almost pretty at sunset, if you didn’t think about all the scum that came out at night, the fading sunlight doused the area in hues of orange and gold. Roman lounged against the hood of his sleek black Maserati, scrolling through his tablet. A smirk played on his lips as if he were watching a thrilling episode of his favorite show, waiting to see what would unfold next. 

Zsasz, Roman's loyal assistant, stood beside him, taking a drag from a cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. For once not wearing his jacket in a departure of his professional look, he wore a shoulder holster but it didn’t hold a gun. No, where a small firearm usually sat tucked against a mans side instead was the scabbard of a very large knife. Scars on his arms on full display since no one was around to be scared by them, besides when it came to nightfall in Gotham, the scarier you looked, the less likely people were to fuck with you and there weren’t many men who looked scarier than Zsasz. 

"Tell me she's asking better questions this time," Zsasz asked in a monotone voice with a hint of reservation. 

“She started with my old prep school this time." Roman said, his eyes never leaving the tablet. "Nobody ever thinks keyloggers are useful until they are," 

“I prefer a more hands on approach.”

Roman chuckled, nodding in agreement. "You think she’ll find my list of extracurriculars impressive?"

“Hell no. Squash is dumb, and polo is for spoiled rich pussies," Zsasz countered, blowing out another puff of smoke. Zsasz scoffed. 

A bark of laughter escaped Roman. "You do remember I played Polo, right?." Zsasz shot him a sideways glance, the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “

Zsasz's lips quirked. "Wasn't calling you a pussy." 

"Damn right I’m not." 

Roman's attention returned to the tablet, watching in real time as Belladonna uncovered more and more of his sordid past. Part of him relished the thought of her reaction. The rest rankled at her audacity to dig into his business but he had done just that too her so he couldn’t blame her much. Still, pretty stupid to think she could dig into him and he not know. He knew about her previous day of Googling after his little adventure at the docks with Cobblepots men and he’s watched as she searched up his old school.

He had to give it to her, she’d gone right back to work after he’d left and he was pleased to see that she didn’t Google the name Maria Lopez, just as she’s promised not to. Nope. But she did take a second shot at Googling him. Her first attempt at digging into Romans past hadn’t yielded much, turns out when you write in the name ‘Roman Sionis’ into Google it’s mostly just papparazzi pictures and a few articles on his club. Roman had paid good money to make sure those articles on his arrest and his younger years were at least seven pages back in the search results. You couldn’t erase a criminal past but you could make it harder to find. 

He admired Belladonna's tenacity. She was resourceful, stubborn, and unafraid to dig into his past. Those traits only served to make her more attractive to him.

"Let's see what else she has up her sleeve," Roman murmured, his finger swiping across the tablet screen. 

A wicked grin spreading across his face as he noticed Belladonna had uncovered his criminal record. 

"Ah, there it is. She's finally found my rap sheet," He said, his voice low and amused.

"Should've been her first step," Zsasz commented, looking over Roman's shoulder at the screen. 

"Oh come on now, give the kid a break. She's new at this."

"True," Zsasz chuckled, leaning back against the car hood. "I’ll give her this, she’s has handled everything so far like an old-school mafia woman. Haven’t seen tears from her once."

“Thank God for that, I can’t stand seeing women cry.” Roman agreed, his admiration for Belladonna growing with each passing moment "Indeed, she's been a champ,"

Flicking through the rest of the information she'd gathered, he spotted something that caught his attention. 

"Look here, she's found Tony Zucco's name."

"Tony Zucco?" Zsasz mused, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "She won't find much. He's been out of the game since you shut him down.”

"Ah, yes. Good ol' Tony," Roman sighed nostalgically, a distant look in his eyes as if recalling a fond memory. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Not the least of which was the scar on his shoulder,courtsey of Zsasz's loyalty. Roman met his gaze. 

"Good shot, by the way. The ladies seem to like the scars." 

Zsasz's lips quirked again. "Following orders.” Zsasz reminded him with a sly grin as he flicked the ashes off his cigarette. “What else has she dug up?" 

Roman scrolled through the contents of the laptop. "She found the shooting at the club." His mouth twisted. "Hard to believe that lazy bastard was in business for so long, Tony never seemed to understand the value of paying your people what they’re worth..."

Zsasz chimed in. "You had a better employee retention program." 

"I did at that." Roman said smugly. They both chuckled, enjoying the memory that many would probably find deeply suspicious or deeply unsettling.

"Yeah, poor Tony never saw it coming. Shame you didn't kill him," Zsasz said casually. "Could've gotten the club for cheap if there had been a death on the property." 

"True," Roman mused, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at the thought. “A little restraint goes a long way Zsasz…”

His laugh died and Roman's eyes narrowed to slits as he zoomed in on an article that Belladonna was currently browsing. It was a piece the Gotham Times had published shortly after the shooting—one he'd somehow overlooked until now. The street lights flickered above, casting eerie shadows across his face as he scrutinized the text.

"Zsasz," Roman said, his voice low and dangerous. "Take a look at this and tell me what you see."

Zsasz took the tablet from Roman, his pale eyes scanning the screen with a growing sense of unease. He glanced back at Roman, his voice tense with anticipation. "Two very irritating names.”

"This makes it two times now," Roman muttered, a note of irritation lacing his voice.

"Two?"

"First, we miss Belladonna's hypoglycemia diagnosis," Roman said, tossing the tablet aside where it landed with a soft thud on the leather couch. “Now this.”

"Ah," Zsasz nodded slowly, his lips twitching into an almost-smile. "A determined woman does better research than the FBI. Maybe you should take Belladonna out for a nice dinner, thank her properly for her detective skills."

Roman's expression softened at the mention of dinner. The thought of her resourcefulness brought a rare sense of warmth to his chest. 

"Dinner?" he echoed, considering the idea. His hand instinctively reached up to adjust the cuff of his immaculately tailored suit.

Roman considered it. 

"Taking a half-Italian woman to an Italian restaurant... is that too cliché?" Roman inquired, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a semblance of amusement.

"Boss," Zsasz replied with a deadpan delivery, "clichés are clichés for a reason. But if you want something different, I know a place. Turkish."

"That little hole in the wall joint in the Bowery?" Roman's tone shifted with intrigue.

Zsasz gave a single nod. "That's the one."

"Karnıyarık," Roman mused aloud, a hint of hunger creeping into his voice as he remembered the savor of well-spiced eggplant and minced meat. "That does sound good."

"And don't get me started on the büyükanne's baklava." Zsasz's eyes gleamed with a rare spark of enthusiasm. "Better than any of those fancy restaurants, hands down."

Dinner was a good next step but there was a new loose end to tie up. Roman's amusement faded as he glared at the article again, picking out the names that had drawn his ire—Ramirez and Craven. The detectives first on scene after he'd been shot. 

Roman sneered at the article, muttering under his breath, "So that's why you've got it out for me..." 

His mind raced with thoughts of revenge and calculated moves, feeling the weight of their names pressing down on him. 

"This changes things," Roman said, the gears turning in his head. He looked at Zsasz with a new sense of urgency. 

"What do you want to do about it?" Zsasz asked calmly. 

"Call up the lawyers and our inside man. I want everything on Ramirez and Craven by Monday." 

"Got it, boss," Zsasz replied, nodding in agreement. His fingers were already reaching for his phone, ready to make contact and set things into motion. “You wanna wait on Metropolis? Left that doctor in pretty rough shape, he might talk, might not.”

“No, I think we’ve properly motivated the good doctor to keep his mouth shut. But let’s not take any chances, keep our travel plans as scheduled. And look into that other thing, I want that sorted by the time we leave, make sure she has everything she needs.”

"Now what?" he asked, curious about Roman's next move.

Roman's mind buzzed with plans and contingencies, the dark machinery of his intellect churning relentlessly. Craven and Ramirez had been the proverbial annoying thorn in his side since this whole damn thing started. He’d have figured out exactly what their beef with him was sooner or later but thanks to his little detective, it was sooner and he’d have to make sure he thanked her properly, wouldn’t he?

But he’d also have to tell her he’d been spying on her at work as well as her home, which really shouldn’t surprise her at this point. Well, she’d get over it.

The neon glow of the city reflected in Roman's dark eyes as he glanced at his watch, the ticking seconds a reminder that time was always moving. 

"Time to go pick up my angel from work." 

He pocketed the tablet and slid off the hood of the Maserati with predatory grace. Zsasz looked up from his phone call, nodding in understanding. Neither spoke of the growing reality, which was that Belladonna was quickly becoming a more central influence in Romans life, which made her dangerous.

Her beauty and courage had captivated him from their first meeting, and he found himself craving her presence more and more each day. 

"Boss, everything's set," Zsasz said, interrupting Roman's thoughts as he hung up the phone. "Our guys will get us what we need."

"Good," Roman replied, his voice low and intense. "We'll find out exactly what those bastards are playing at, and put an end to it. But for now… let's focus on something far more pleasant." He smirked, enjoying the idea of spending time with Belladonna, even if only for a brief reprieve from the darkness that consumed his world. “I’m hungry.”

When faced with virtually no information about Tony Zucco aside from his sterling reputation within the community and the many mentionings of his hand in local businesses, Bealladonna’s bullshit detector started going off. Jaded or not, a wise man once said if something seemed too good to be true then it was.

When one word didn’t work, she opted to cross reference the name of Tony Zucco with Roman Sionis and then she found it.

The words "shooting" and "Masquerade Noir" had caught her attention, and as she read, she began to piece together a story that had unfolded just months after Roman's release from prison.

The article detailed an incendent that had unfolded at the location that would later become Roman’s club, he had been looking at the building with a leasing agent when Tony Zucco and his men showed up.

The statement of the leasing agent told of how Roman instructed her to flee and call the police and when she ran Tony’s men persued her. She imagined Roman's tall, dark frame acting as a barrier between the fleeing woman and Zucco's thugs. Roman then inteviened and tackled one fo the men by throwing punches but was qickly overwhelmed when he second man attacked Roman from behind. The witness report stated she saw Roman taking a severe beating on his knees before she went for help.

Roman out-numbered two to one, those seemed like his kind of odds. The image of his strong, muscular body entangled in a vicious fight made her shiver with both fear and admiration. It was compelling but something about it just wasn’t right. Where was Zsasz? She hadn’t bothered to look up anything about Zsasz, that one she had been a little afraid to look into.

The article continued stating by the time the police had arraived the two men were dead from gunshot wounds, Tony Zucco was shot in the chest but still alive and Roman was shot in the shoulder. She could almost hear the gunshots echoing through the empty building as Roman and Zucco traded fire.

Her breath caught in her throat as she envisioned Roman wounded and bleeding. She thought back to earlier that morning when she’d caught sight of him with that towel draped around his waist. She’d seen a few scars, one in particular on his shoulder, it had looked like a bullet but she couldn't tell from where she was.

As she absorbed the information, she could almost see the scene play out in her mind: Roman, bloodied but unbowed, bringing down the older man before collapsing into unconsciousness. It wasn't long after this brutal exchange that the police arrived, taking both men to Gotham General Hospital for treatment.

"Both men were treated and held in medical hold with armed police officers until they cold be taken to the GCPD." She read further. 

While there was push from Zucco’s attourney to have Roman thrown back into Blackgate for the shooting and there was a potential civil lawsuit against him, the judge had ruled that Roman was out numbered, out gunned and he acted in reasonable self defense. 

"Tony Zucco was sentenced to ten years for conspiracy to commit murder, assault with a deadly weapon, criminal conspiracy, and criminal solicitation. " 

It had been, as far as she could tell, a slam dunk case mostly thanks to the severity of Romans injuries and the leasing agent who had witnessed the whole ordeal. She had stepped forward offering testimony, ultimately clearing Roman Sionis of any wrongdoing.

She moved from one article to another that talked about Tony Zucco’s release several years ago and he hadn’t been mentioned that much since, choosing to keep a quiet profile until almost all mention of him stopped. And a price reduction of several hundred thousand dollars had left the building vacant, which Roman swooped in to purchase it months later.

"Masquerade Noir opens its doors... quickly becoming Gotham's hottest night spot," She read aloud, her voice tinged with disbelief. The club had been born from violence, yet now thrived with people fighting to get in.

"Roman Sionis: Behind the Mystery" – another article title caught her eye, and she clicked on it eagerly. Scrolling through the text, she absorbed every detail there were interviews with staff, patrons, all speaking very highly of Roman as an employer who ran an immaculate ship. Didn’t tolerate any shady activity and overall, all who set foot inside his doors reported they loved the experience and felt safe and eager to return even if a martini cost almost twenty five dollars.

"From violence to prospering into an icon of the city; one thing is certain – he has built an empire from nothing, and many are drawn to the allure of his power and charm."

The sudden buzz of the intercom jolted Belladonna from her thoughts, her heart pounding in her chest. 

"Miss Black, Mr. Sionis is in the lobby to pick you up," The security guards voice came through the speaker.

"Thank you, tell him I’ll be right down." She managed to reply, quickly shutting down her laptop and packing her bag. 

As she stepped out of her office and made her way to the lobby, she considered what she might say to him, or even if she’d say anything at all. He’d never forbade her from looking into his past, never warned her not to go digging and what kind of idiot would she be if she didn’t at least do some light Googling into a man that she was growing more intimately connected with? Hell, she was all but sleeping with him at this point, she was living with him. 

Her steps slowed as she entered the elevator and waited for it to carry her to the first floor. He did, however, tell her to ask fewer questions or learn to look the other way. 

"Angel," 

Roman's deep voice called as he saw her, his eyes alight with a mix of desire and possessiveness and he wore a smile that could charm the devil himself. He crossed the distance between them in a few swift strides, pulling her into an unusually passionate kiss that caught her off guard. There was no one here aside from the security guard who wasn’t even watching, why the show? Something put him in a good mood. 

"Hi.” She said a little breathlessly.

He ushered her toward his black Maserati parked outside, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. "Hungry?"

"Actually, yeah." She replied, her previous queries now pushed to the back burner after that kiss and the prospect of dinner. She wondered what he had in mind but before she could ask he answered that with a question of his own.

"Ever had Turkish?" Roman asked, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

She wasn’t sure what it was but something had put him in a very good mood, it was hard to find any hint of those little tendrils of darkness that usually clung to him. It was then that she registered his question and her lips curled in distaste, the memory of her father's rants about 'those damned Turks' still fresh even after all these years. 

"No, of course not." She said it with an almost laugh, as if it was the dumbest question she’d been asked.

Roman's gaze sharpened, and she could almost hear the unspoken reprimand. “Excuse me?’ Who's never had Turkish in this cultural melting pot of a city? It’s almost offensive.”

“Sorry?” She shrugged. "Did you forget I'm half Greek and my father is something of a xenophobe?" She replied, unable to keep the slightly defensive note from her voice.

"What's that got to do with food?" He asked perplexed as the car pulled away from the curb.

Belladonna bit her lip. Did Roman really need her to explain her father's deep seeded, outdated, cultural hatred? She thought it was pretty self explanatory. On the other hand it was just as plausible for Roman to harbor no real hate for anyone unless they crossed him in which case that was most certainly a ‘case by case’ basis. He also seemed like an ‘I hate everybody equally’ type of man. He was a total social butterfly, floating between different groups without a care in the world. Old grudges and racial tensions didn't seem to faze him at all, personal grudges? Well, that was likely different.

"Turkish food," She finally said. "Greece and Turkey have been enemies for centuries,” She managed. "Ever since the Ottoman Empire conquered Constantinople in 1453, there's been bad blood between the nations. Even now they're still not exactly friends-"

"Despite both being NATO allies..." Roman interjected, one dark brow arched knowingly. 

His mention of something so political surprised her, Roman was smart but she didn’t really think of him as ‘politics smart.’ She had never thought of him as someone who paid attention to politics, let alone casually mention it. But in a way, it did make a certain kind of sense, the politics of crime.

"Just because someone is an ally, doesn't make them friends." 

She froze, hearing the echo of their own intricate affiliation in those words. The playful atmosphere evaporated, replaced by an awkward tension. 

Without warning, Roman's hand reached out to cup her chin and he silenced any concerns she had with a deep, passionate kiss. His lips moved slowly over hers, lulling her into a relaxed state, slow, smoldering, possessive and hungry. When he pulled away, she was left breathless, her mind pleasantly unfocused. 

"Trust me, you're gonna love it," He purred, low and seductive, his thumb stroking over her lower lip. 

He didn't acknowledge her earlier words or the uneasy parallel she had drawn between them. If her comment bothered him, he didn't let it show. 

“Was your father that much of a bigot to keep you from trying some of the most delicious food known to man?” Roman's disbelief was evident in his tone, and it surprised her. She had never thought of him as a foodie but he seemed all riled up over it.

“Roman, what do you think?” She asked dryly.

"Come on," he said. "Time you tried some Turkish delight."

“That jello thing that little prick Edmund liked from the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe?”

Roman rolled his eyes, and scoffed. “You know classic children's fantasy literature but you’ve never had Turkish?”

“You mean, ‘I know classic Christian biblical propaganda?’ Then yes, I do. I went to an all girls Catholic school, remember?”

A sly smile crossed Roman's face. “Oh, Angel, trust me. That’s a detail I’ve never forgotten.”

Just an hour ago she’d read through as much of Romans criminal history as she could find, she was still no closer to discovering what it was that happened between his family and him. She didn’t for one second buy the fact that he’d done three years for tax evasion or that there was no validity to any of the other charges against him. 

He did it. She was sure. 

And she knew for a fact that the shooting that took place in his club couldn’t have been as simple as the article had made it out to be. 

Roman protecting a curiously present leasing agent when someone he had a sketchy past with had just happen to show up? Not for a second.

She couldn't explain it, but somehow Roman had found a way to get away with murder and attempted murder. And now, he was doing it again with Jimmy. Even more unsettling, she was helping him - at times, even enjoying it. She could hardly believe how comfortable she had become in his presence, especially since learning to read him better. As they drove through the streets of Gotham, for what was sounding more and more like a real date, Roman wore something that hovered between a smile and a smirk. His hand rested possessively on her thigh, thumb gently grazing her leg through the fabric of her jeans. Electric sparks shooting between their bodies like lightning bolts. She couldn't deny the thrill she felt being by his side, despite the danger and moral ambiguity of their actions together.

Roman was a man of many qualities, but at the forefront of it all was his ability to survive. She couldn't imagine how much blood he must have shed to get to where he was. Despite knowing he was dangerous and having witnessed his quick fire temper firsthand, and even being mildly on the receiving end a few times. She was drawn to him. 

Everything about this man should have sent her running and screaming.

But it didn’t. 

First he’d spared her life, then he’d saved her life more than once, called down an armed assault when she’d been in danger and nearly declared war with another criminal over her. Yet, here he was, sitting beside her, taking her to dinner after a long workday, to try something new. She wasn’t bothered by his touch, in fact, she craved it. Despite the red flags every Cosmo had ever told her to look for and run from there was a warmth emanating from those flags, like a bullet-proof, blood red blanket. 

Roman Sionis was a pit bull. An angry dog with a penchant for biting and slicing off ears. Dropping bodies where it pleased him and something about that knowledge set every nerve of hers on fire. 

He was a criminal. A killer with blood on his hands. And a psychopath with violence in his heart. And if there was a God in heaven, let him help her because she was falling for him.

I woke up a little early so here's a happy surprise for you guys! So, we got a little more insight into Roman's past, eh? Anyone else get the impression we're missing some information???? Belladonna does. Hope you guys liked this chapter, I know I'm teasing you guys mercilessly but stick with me I PROMISE YOU the smut is coming in the next chapter or two, it just depends on pacing but it will be worth it! Y'all have stuck with me this far just hang on a little longer. I need to work on a few one-shots but I have the next chapter mostly planned out so it shouldn't take quite as long. I also had some family in town so writing was put on the back burner for a little bit.

I'm really loving how this story is coming together and I really appreciate everyone's support, especially my mysterious anonymous questioner who checks in on me, I don't know who you are but I appreciate you! Comments and interaction comes from such a small group so the feedback and check-ins really do keep me motivated!

How do you guys like the new look fo the story??? I finally got Canva Premium so I think I'll be playing around with some more fun stuff like the bars and dividers. You guys know what to do, reblog with those crazy tags, comment and like! Reblogs are the best way to circulate work on Tumblr so we can reach more Toxic Fangirls! And speaking of which a big welcome to a new potential member of the Roman Sionis Toxic Love Fangirl Club who is actually a pretty damn good writer her/their damnself! Looking at you @gilverrwrites and my other toxic fangirls too! @hereticpriest @daenerys-skywalker @tarrenterror25 @supernatural-lover and @keffirinneYou guys are my cheer squad!

Have a great day, let me know what you all think, and stay toxic.

#roman sionis smut #fake relationship #fanfiction is life #original character #close proximity #slightly toxic #slight power imbalance #medium burn romance #shadows of deception #belladonna black #belladonna fucking black #i have too many fanfictions #roman sionis toxic love fangirl club #black mask smut #black mask #black mask fanfiction #roman sionis #roman sionis x original female character #simping for the bad guy #dc #dc fandom #dc birds of prey #there will be smut #romansionisfanfiction #romansionissmut #dark romance #ewan mcgregor characters #alternate universe #yandere #roman sionis has anger issues

[vv4nn4b3]

literally

#coquette #girlblogging #born to die #lana del rey #lizzy grant #norman fucking rockwell #mitski #deftones #midsommar #black swan #gone girl #blonde venus #belladonna of sadness #hole band #the virgin suicides #fiona apple #female manipulator #female rage #female hysteria #girl interrupted #manic pixie dream girl #female blogger #hyper feminine #dior girl #dollette #insane #lobotomy chic #radiohead

[dinodogs]

wghat the fuck dude we were robbed

[SOURCE]

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #like??? Rubys hair is so fucking cute what the hell #Weiss with that shawl #THE BLACK NECKLACE AND GOLD ARM CUFFS #I'm gonna be SICK #They took this from us #personal

[g0blinwitch]

Decided to group some of my favorite characters in rwby lol

#rwby #oh god i have to tag them all fuck #sienna khan #mercury black #weiss schnee #whitley schnee #roman torchwick #neopolitian (rwby) #yang xiao long #sun wukong #pyrrha nikos #ruby rose #penny polendina #lie ren #blake belladonna #coco adel #teir list

[ladyimaginarium]

mini gangsta fandom rant bc im&. annoyed bc i& remember seeing a bunch of hcs back in the day of how like. striker never cared about beretta at all whatsoever & only ever cared about marco. or ppl just blatantly erasing or removing her autonomy & influence & power in the storyline & reducing her as a prop to be used for the male characters' angst or otherwise she's just there to look pretty instead of being. yknow. a villain. or g-d forbid a person. & ignoring & erasing beretta both as an individual character but also as a major person in striker's life. or that striker's lowkey violent or abusing beretta w/ her almost always being on the receiving end of all kinds of abuse or people implying that she's just plain stupid or dedicated enough to striker to be just his toy to be used for his own pleasures or that they're not equals in any way. despite canon indicating nothing of the sort & im& just like. are. ARE WE READING THE SAME FUCKING MANGA LMAO

like. striker literally NEVER, EVER, reacts negatively to her. striker CARES for her, he RESPECTS her, he PROTECTS her, he TAKES CARE of her, he TREATS HER LIKE A PERSON. striker NEVER abuses her. he NEVER swears at her. he has NEVER told her to mind her own business, he NEVER silences her or even worse, NEVER swears at her & NEVER hurts her like he had with spas when he told striker & beretta that he wouldn't be returning to the second destroyers. he NEVER said or did anything uncouth like that to her.

if anything, it's the exact opposite.

maverick literally tells spas that beretta is striker's weakness. which, coming from someone like striker, that's a hell of a compliment. she clearly wants to fuck him & expresses sexual interest & desire for him. they're almost always touching. she reaches out to hold his hand. after she "gifts" him constance, he tells her that she's incredible.

now. does any of that look like abuse or beretta being mistreated. lol

okay cw for upcoming gore & nonexplicit discussion of csa & creeps.

he PROTECTS her. he AVENGES her. he DEFENDS HER HONOR. he CANONICALLY MURDERS HER ABUSERS. i.e chau who's a grown ass 30 year old man when beretta is. literally 13 years old. a CHILD.

the night before CURSED happens, he fucking SNAPS the minute beretta tells him that three men attacked her & kills the mfs instantly.

& VIOLENTLY at that, particularly the one that threatened to kill her & after he previously said she "came onto" them, aka, beretta, a clearly visible 13 year old child, led three grown ass men on, & he keeps beating the guy even after he's dead into a bloody mess. good on striker. & seeing how unfazed beretta is, this has likely happened before. & that realization paints a very dark & sobering picture for beretta; this is a girl who grew up too fast & striker knows this & it's because of this that he's so viciously & violently protective over her.

he saved her life before. look at the look on his face when he tells her to get the FUCK out of there. that's pure unadulterated desperation.

now. do they have issues with marco?? yeah ofc !! but. yall. yall mean to tell me& that. HE DOESNT CARE FOR HER AT ALL ????

literally look at how gentle he is with her. he doesn't just throw her ass on his back then yeet her onto the stairs, he gently places her down. then he leaves her momentarily to rest & recuperate bc he cares about her rather than selfishly going on with their plan together to... do whatever the hell they were planning on w/ daniel monroe.

when the flare happens, beretta comes to get him & he's pissed because 1) he wants to go after daniel monroe & 2) he's pissed in like that angry protective bf way that she's even there with him.

he even apologizes to her. he does so right away in fact & he does so sincerely & in a teasing, loving, lighthearted way, putting himself in a position we, the audience, never see him be willing to take ( not even in situations where it was more than warranted ) because striker is just. simply not the type to feel he owes anything to anyone & much less the type who admits when he's wrong. but most importantly, he apologizes to beretta bc he genuinely WANTs to, with not a single thought to her abilities, having no ulterior motives & no personal gain. he apologizes bc he knows he was in the wrong, that he hurt her feelings by staying away a bit from her for too long ( maybe clingy, but they're like 13 & 14 respectively here guys what do you expect y'all lmfao ), regrets that & wants to offer at least that much. & he always says "we" when referring to their plans; he includes her in their plan.

with that said, it's. VERY obvious that beretta seems to trust only striker with the softer, more vulnerable parts of her personality since he was a source of strength for her in overcoming her trauma as a child experiment & he lets her cling to him so he can comfort her & vice versa. & keep in mind the above scene is all happening while striker is holding a decapitated head & neck & shoulderblades clean off. this is from STRIKER of all people, y'know, the guy who casually choked a man to death in front of his son while on the phone with beretta simply to kill time, the guy who deadass hulk smashed his way through a building while laughing like a maniac & wiped the floor with ergastulum's high ranking twilights. this guy is soft for someone like beretta, that has to mean something bc that's impressive tbh.

he literally lets her bodily drag him around by the arm. lmao

& that doesn't change not even as grown ass adults. lmfao

literally look at his face is when he realizes that she's hurt/in danger.

& he is literally ALWAYS near her afterward to make sure she's okay & acting as a source of comfort for her when he clearly doesn't have to.

& that's not to say beretta's a weakling, no, she faced several high ranking twilights even as a tiny 13 year old girl & caused so much death & destruction to ergastulum & by the end of CURSED, all she gets is a tiny cut on her right shoulder. all of that was a game to her. striker doesn't protect her bc she's weak, he protects her bc he Wants to. we don't have a full backstory for striker or beretta for that matter yet, but i'd& bet my& money that beretta, like the other destroyers, that she struggled & was experimented on & was traumatized in the government laboratories by scientists who treated her like she wasn't even human & that she had to work her ass off to get to where she is. like. this is only one example of how horrifying their treatment was.

LITCHERAL STRAITJACKETS, WALKING ON COLD TILED FLOORS BAREFOOT & STRIKER LITERALLY HAS A MUZZLE ON HIM. that's literally so dehumanizing for anyone let alone a CHILD where they look about 6-8 years old here & even moreso for a BLACK child & just how horrible those implications are & how black boys are so often treated & it doesn't make it better that nobody else from the destroyers were seen with a muzzle on them & i& think the reason why striker cares about & i'd& argue loves beretta so much is that she never once thought of him like a monster like literally almost everyone else in the series has or as a rabid dog to be treated like the government or as a weapon to be used; to beretta, he's a person. so there's this underlying undertone & there are many canonical implications in the series that, precisely BECAUSE they both went through hell and back together as children growing up, they have an unbreakable bond that's unparalleled with anyone else in the series. & y'know, for being villains, they're actually in a healthy relationship.

beretta would do literally ANYTHING for that man & it makes me& wanna tear men in half & go clinically insane. & some ppl might find that crazy but like. if you're genuinely in love with someone & go through the same circumstances that beretta has, who wouldn't. if you haven't been abused your entire life & someone comes along in your life & they're the first person to treat you like you were an actual human being? you'd do anything for that person without question. so beretta's not "stupid" or "too devoted"; she makes her own choices. they both grew up together & witnessed unimaginable horrors & governmental abuse together, they really didn't have nothing but each other for a very long time. & then spas betrayed them, & minimi & maverick are both dead. & now only striker & beretta remain.

this is one of my& favorite scenes in the entire series. there's no dialogue shared between them, but it carries one message: I'm here for you when the whole world stands against you. they don't Need that dialogue, the way they feel for each other is in their actions. it's a really heartwarming feeling despite the tragedies & crimes they both committed. don't get me& wrong, they're both horrible people who've done horrible things to both good & innocent people & tbh overall shitty horrible people, this isn't me& justifying any of their actions or trying to woobify them ... but the fact that beretta still metaphorically, symbolically & literally stands by & behind him is just so beautiful & it shows how much she loves him ( & by doing so she's saving worick's life bc let's face it striker can very well still kill him with one arm be for fucking real ). so striker's publicly humiliated by everyone, he's called a failure to his face, he's just freshly lost his arm & his eye & he'll likely live the rest of his life disabled, mocked & shamed by everyone else, after spending his entire life trained to fight & kill for a cause that he was brainwashed by the government to believe in ... but beretta still keeps her arms around him in his moment of greatest need, & if that's not genuine love, then i& don't know what is. even after he's hurt her by possibly making her think that he values marco over her despite all she's done for him, she still holds onto him to let him know that in his most vulnerable moments, she is right there beside him holding him. she still supports while knowing that won't get her anything in return & putting his needs before hers... that's something incredibly heartwarming coming from someone as cruel, cold & cunning as beretta; this is a side of her that only striker gets the privilege of seeing. because her love for him isn't shallow, it's not based on looks, power, glory or lust alone, because if it was, she'd have left his ass right when he became disabled, it's because she loves him as a PERSON despite how fucked up he is.

regardless, they have mutual development, i'm& not necessarily confirming whether or not their relationship is mutual & romantic in nature but it's definitely obvious they're in some kind of relationship. they have a significant amount of substance ( meaningful moments from both ends, interactions, they're literally almost ALWAYS by each other' side & almost ALWAYS touching, it's heavily implied & then confirmed that they've had sex, subtext, focus, backstory, remarks from other characters, etc. ). the most selfless acts they do ( as surprising as that sounds, coming from people like them ) that we have seen them have been directly related to their feelings for each other, like saving each other's lives & putting their lives in jeopardy & throwing aside any fear in order to courageously run to each other's aid & save each other's life to do so when no one else did... & that speaks volumes. & regardless of what happens next & regardless of whether or not you ship them yourself, you have to at least recognize that they do care deeply about each other, beretta is a MAJOR person in striker's life, striker has never ONCE abused her or treated her violently, they are EQUALS although she's happy to follow his lead but isn't afraid to make her own decisions, striker PROTECTS beretta, he murdered her abusers & there is no canonical evidence for any of the aforementioned headcanons & to suggest otherwise is an insult not just to the ship but also to their individual characters. & all this coming from a CANONICALLY QUEER BISEXUAL INTERRACIAL PAIRING? that's a MASSIVE deal in animanga.

#arcana.txt #fandom: gangsta. #& like. on striker's behalf that's not even getting into the stereotypes of black men.... #& how black men especially QUEER black men which striker canonically is are simultaneously oversexualized & demonized #like. please think why you would think striker's abusive towards beretta. there's literally no canon evidence for it. /nbh #idk ive& been thinking of making this for the longest time & here it is #fictives. #bellatrix belladonna / beretta. #THEY R LITERALLY CRYING SCREAMING SHITTING THROWING UP & GOING FUCKING FERAL FOR EACH OTHER & DAS FAX #& if sb dont love me& Like That then i& dont want them AT ALL !!!! #reposting this bc i tried to insert a video into the last one & couldn't edit so DFGGHFHGGJHGJHHHHJHJHHHGHHHJ #BUT W/E W/E THEY'RE INSANE FOR EACH OTHER

[avernaqueenofthedead]

I hear the devil

Whispering and cackling

On my left shoulder

Give them what they deserve

It is what’s fair

Don’t you want justice for all of your torments

I clearly understood I held the keys to my own fate

And for once in my life

I desired to put a end to it all

-avernaqueenofthedead

#sphinx #give them hell #goodness energy #i put a spell on you #conundrum #fire emblem radiant dawn #whisperedfaith #you get what you fucking deserve #royal blood #redemption #kanashimi no belladonna #black cat

[crazydiamondgeese]

Currently vibing to: Belladonna - Beast in Black

#power metal #metal #beast in black #belladonna #dark connections #power metal fucking slaps #the whole album is SO good #Youtube

[pearlsinmyhair]

kinktober day five - desk sex

hobie brown

content: nsfw. slight exhibitionism. p-in-v sex. violation of property??? hobie loves making a statement.

———————————————————————————————

“Shh, pretty girl. be real quiet now. Don’t wanna get caught, do we?” Hobie manages to whisper between thrusts, his hand over your mouth to muffle your screams as he pushes into you, every movement slamming you down into the polished black of Miguel’s desk.

All you can do is lay there, belly pressed into the cold lamenant and hands gripping the edge to keep yourself steady.

It was practically a dare, a whisper of “what if?” that led to you both tugging at your spider suits and muffled moans as his hands snuck into your panties.

And when Hobie commits, he commits.

If it wasn’t for his hand over your mouth, you were sure you would have screamed enough that spiders would have ran to the office thinking someone was dying. No one would even think that someone could be having sex in here, on Miguel’s desk.

They could get fired. Or worse, Miguel might actually make good on his threats to chuck Hobie off a building. But you knew that in some way, Hobie got off to the fact that it was his boss’s desk he was fucking you against. That he was defiling it.

And the threat of someone walking in on you only made you both more eager, more vigorous. You matched Hobie’s thrusts, and he hissed as he surpressed one of his own moans.

“Atta girl. There you go.” he grunted against your shoulder when your eyes started to roll back and your knees buckled. “Let it out f’me.”

And all you can manage is a muffled scream and a death-grip on the desk as he fucks you through an orgasm, Hobie coming undone shortly after as he releases into the condom that he thankfully had on hand.

And when you lift yourself up (with Hobie’s helpful strength, hands catching you when your knees buckle again) you spot the small puddle of your slick against the surface of the desk. Your ears go hot with shame, but Hobie just chuckles and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Wanna leave it for good ol’ Miguel to find, angel?”

———————————————————————————————

an: reeeeeeeaaally short one this time, guys.

taglist: @katcaron @huyyyyyyyttt @bobtheoriginal-blog @m4dyy @deobipabooo @belladonna-is-alive @rainbowsocks @ya-boi-v

#kinktober 2023 #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x reader smut #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown #atsv #hobie atsv

[duhnova]

a witches apothecary: for all your desires and needs

pairing: witch!seungcheol x fem!reader

word count: ~4.8k

synopsis: when your boyfriend told you to read the labels on the bottles carefully you should’ve listened, because what was supposed to be a relaxing night of you messaging all the tension away turned to him being in even more pain that only you could fix.

warning(s): smut under the cut (mdni!!), established relationship, supernatural / witch au, light fluff, hint of angst? mentions of food, mentions of blood, petnames (love, babe, baby, ect.) are used for both reader and cheol, whore is used / slight degradation, marking, praise, aphrodisiac oil is used, unprotected sex, creampie, slight breeding kink, dick riding, multiple orgasms (m), squirting, oral (m receiving), throat / face fucking, deep throating, cum eating, let me know if i forgot anything! - don’t mind grammatical errors/typos (i tried) // thank you @onlyhuis & @multi-kpop-fanfics for proofreading!

the story of pink eros collab masterlist

“here you go cheol,” you plop the last basket full of herbs down on the counter top. “i finished harvesting all your herbs.” you give him a bright smile despite all the dirt on your face and hands. 

“thank you baby.” he smiles back, laughing quietly at the state of your being. “when you get cleaned up, could you put these away for me please? i need to start prepping the herbs to dry so they’ll be ready for next week.” he moves the herbs to set baskets full of premade potions and potion ingredients on the counter for you. 

“okay!” you chirp out before rushing to the bathroom to clean up. after scrubbing all the dirt from your fingernails you make your way back to the kitchen to start putting stuff away. 

you mumbles the ingredients to yourself as you read the labels carefully, making sure you put them in the right spot. seungcheol was in one of the back rooms hanging up all the herbs to dry, giving you the whole kitchen to yourself. the longer you did things like this the more he trusted you to figure things out on your own - not being born into the same life as him. it was new adapting to all the magic he used in everyday life, but he made sure to take his time introducing you to everything. 

while in the middle of rearranging some of the potions so you could add the new ones you heard quite scratches coming from the back door followed by whimpers. sighing quietly you set the small glass bottles down on the counter to go open the door, a shaggy black dog comes waltzing in with a backpack on its back. 

“hi mingyu,” you smile as you watch the dog shift into a person who stands taller than your boyfriend. “i see jihoon let you out of your cage.”

“he did, and he sent me with offerings.” mingyu takes the backpack off and sets it gently on the table so he could pull out bundles of belladonna and a couple glass bottles full of a red liquid. 

“is that blood?”

“from a vampire! so it stinks, be careful.” his nose crinkles in a cute way. 

“do i even wanna know how he got it?” mingyu shrugs before it looks like a lightbulb went off in his head. 

“oh!” he reaches back in the bag to pull out something covered in cloth. “this is very special so be extremely careful with it… ji might kill me if it breaks.”

“what is it?”  you take it gently and unwrap the bottle, the handwriting was hard to read so the only thing you could read was ‘oil’. 

“he wouldn't tell me but he said cheol would know what it was.” mingyu closes the backpack and throws it back over his shoulders. “speaking of, where is he?” 

“the herb room, be careful going back there, the house is swamped with orders so there's boxes and ingredients everywhere.” mingyu nods his head and bids you a farewell, going to seek out his friend while being cautious of everything that's haphazardly stacked up in piles that reach the ceiling. 

carefully you put the belladonna in a basket for seungcheol to deal with later, making sure to wash your hands extremely well you go back to putting everything where it belongs.

the vampire blood was almost powdery, but it moved like a liquid so it mesmerized you for a little bit, mingyu leaving out the back door snapping you out of your trance as you went back to your task. 

“hey love,” you poke your head into the herb room, smiling as you watch seungcheol use his magic to levitate the herbs all around the room while also expanding the walls to make more room for everything. “where does this go?” you show him the bottle that had the mystery oil in it. 

“is it from jihoon?” you hum in acknowledgment. “um, just put it with the other oils for now. i’ll deal with it later.” he tilts his head back to offer you a tired smile, his eyes flinching a little when his neck cracks. 

“okay.” your voice is soft with worry but you still manage to smile back at him. “i’ll start dinner soon… how does soup sound?” 

“sounds amazing.” he hums while he looks down at his herb book that’s floating off to his left before he sighs, rearranging some of the herbs after he read that they shouldn’t be mixed. quietly you back out of the doorway and close the door, leaving cheol to work in peace. 

“put it with the oils?” you frown a little. “which oils though?” you sigh quietly  figuring you wouldn't bother seungcheol anymore as you go to the bathroom where all the nonedible oils are kept. after mingyu consumed the oil from a non edible plant a while back seungcheol made the decision to put all nonedible oils in the bathroom where no one could eat them accidentally. 

once you were back in the kitchen you hurriedly got back to putting everything away, wanting to get started on dinner early so you could get seungcheol to sit and relax for a little bit before he had to go out and set up all the water that needed to sit during the crescent moon. 

there were some bottles you weren't able to put away because of the lack of space but that's something seungcheol could fix later with his magic. washing your hands again you got to work on lighting the stove, which still used fire but seungcheol needed it to be that way for him to properly cook some of his ingredients and potions. mumbling the ingredients of the soup to yourself you get everything ready and prepared while the fire gets roaring. 

“we’re almost out of garlic.. i need to ask ji for some more later.” you make a mental note to text the garden witch later, even if he rarely touches his phone you hope he’ll send mingyu with some next time he makes a delivery. 

“hey baby, do you know where the string is? i ran out and i have a couple more bundles to wrap and hang.” seungcheol comes up behind you while you stir the pot to hug you. he takes a big sniff of the air and groans quietly. “it smells good and i’m starving, when did you start?”

“it’ll be done by the time you are.” you giggled quietly as he kissed gently at your exposed neck. “i think we should have some more in the first drawer in the storage room.” he mumbles a quiet ‘thank you’ as he kisses your cheek before pulling himself away from your body. he also grabs the basket full of belladonna so he can dry it as well. 

just like you predicted you finished dinner a couple minutes after seungcheol finished hanging everything and getting cleaned up. while you took your time to wash up, getting all the food and grime off from the day, seungcheol was setting the table - the bowls and cups floating in the air as he poured soup and drinks into them before setting them at their respective chairs. 

“i was thinking,” you started talking when you entered the room. “after we finish eating I can give you a little message.” you smile at your boyfriend who looks at you with wide and curious eyes. 

“oh?” his eyes follow you to your seat, his food untouched because he wanted to wait for you before he started eating. 

“yeah, i noticed that you were flinching earlier when you were moving your head.” you pick up your spoon so you could take a sip of the broth that was still hot. “maybe i could help loosen up some of the muscles so its more comfortable for you to move.” seungcheol smiles wide, his dimples on full display as he watches the way you frown after burning your mouth on the broth. 

“i’d love that.” he hums quietly before he eats a spoon full of the soup, the heat not really bothering him as much as he starts to scarf down his food. 

“oh!” you jump out of your chair and rush back into the kitchen, the smell of the soup overpowered the bread you had baking in the oven and you almost forgot about it. “there's bread.” you bring the freshly baked bread out into the dining room, your boyfriend is quick to use his magic to levitate it out of your mitten clad hands. 

“thank you baby.” he uses his magic to cut a couple slices for the both of you, levitating the knife to spread butter on them before setting them on your plates. while you both ate your dinner you talked about your days, most of which was spent preparing things for orders people had been putting in for potions and spells.

“i’ll clean up while you go get comfortable on the bed.” you give seungcheol a smile when you both finish eating. 

“let me help you.” he stands up and uses his magic to pick up all the dishes, sending them to the sink where they land a little harshly - his excitement getting the best of him as he grabs your hand to drag you towards the bedroom. his magic was still doing work in the kitchen as he put all the food in the fridge. 

“you're excited.” you giggle quietly as you watch him crawl onto the bed to lay on his stomach. 

“of course i am, you're going to put your pretty little hands on my back.” he hums quietly. you couldn’t help the way your face heated up as you shake your head. 

“take your shirt off for me, i'm gonna go get one of the message oils.” you’ve never seen your boyfriend move so quickly before as you watch his back muscles flex as he lays back down on his stomach, the tattoos on his back prominent under the dull light of the bedroom. you didn’t waste too much time going into the bathroom and grabbing one of the oil bottles, holding it under your shirt to help warm it up a little using your body heat. 

“i know you want me to relax baby but i do have to be outside in the next two hours to make sure the water is in the moonlight for the longest time possible.” seungcheols voice is soft as you crawl onto the bed, sitting on top of your boyfriends ass as you hum quietly. 

“i know love,” you smile gently, even though he couldn’t see it. you pull the bottle out from under your shirt and open it, a sweet but tangy scent hits your nose - it was pleasant but new, you don’t remember the scent but you shrug it off as it has been awhile since you’ve done this. “now relax.” you pour some of the red liquid onto your hands and rub them together, the color looked familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on it as you began to rub the shimmery oil into seungcheols skin. groaning quietly, seungcheol relaxed into the bed, his muscles screaming a little as you knead at his skin. 

“feels good baby.” he mumbles as his eyes flutter closed, the tension beginning to leave his body the higher up his back you got. your hands would linger a little longer on the areas where his tattoos were, loving the way the specs of gold in the oil looked against the black ink. 

“i’m glad it feels good.” you purr quietly as you put some more oil on your hands so you could rub at his shoulders. your hands began to tingle a little but you paid no attention to it as you messaged his shoulders, drawing louder groans from your boyfriend as you felt the knots in his muscles melt away under your fingers. 

“what oil is this?” he mumbles after a couple minutes of silence. “the scent is new.. but familiar.” you shrug your shoulders before realizing he couldn’t see you. 

“i don't know, but i think it's floral?” you bring one of your hands up to your nose to sniff at the oil, your head becoming a little light all of a sudden. “woah..” you whisper.

“where did the oil come from?” seungcheol groans quietly, this time in pain as he shifts under you. 

“the cabinet?” you question quietly as you rub at his back again. “are you still in pain?” 

“this is a different kind of pain.” he shifts under you again, his skin starting to heat up under your hands. “where did the oil come from before the cabinet baby?” you could tell his jaw was clenched as he held back another pained groan. 

“um…” you fumble picking the bottle back up as you go to check the label, which is something you forgot to do before using it. you freeze as you stare at the label, jihoons horrible scribbling stared back as you as it finally dawned on you that you potentially just used something dangerous on your boyfriend. “jihoon..” you whisper. 

“what?” your boyfriend's head tilts to the side as he tries to look at you behind him. 

“it came from jihoon..” you gulp quietly, your hands starting to shake. “i’m so sorry cheol! i didn’t think about checking the label, the colors looked similar and i thought i grabbed the right one and now i just rubbed something into your back that could potentially ki-”

“hey,” he groans as he tries to roll over without knocking you off of him. “It's ok, it's not deadly.” he watches you through his hooded eyes as you shift around to sit on top of his lap where his cock was growing hard. 

“what is it then?” your face heats up at the feeling of his bulge under your ass. you try to read the label again but give up as you lean over to set the glass bottle on the bedside table. seungcheol was quick in grabbing your hips to sit you back down on his lap after you set the bottle down. groaning quietly at the contact he closes his eyes, his jaw clenching again as he tries to focus on anything other than the pain in his body. 

“it’s…” he takes in a deep breath, “its pure concentrated aphrodisiac oil.” he lets out the breath. 

“what..” your eyes widen a little, you remember reading about aphrodisiacs in the book jihoon let you borrow. 

“it’s for sex potions and spells..” his fingers dig into your hips. “and it's super strong.. even just the smell of it can make you horny when it's in this form.” he mumbles quietly. 

“oh..” you gently set your hands on his bare chest, your fingers ghosting over his nipples that are rock hard causing him to groan loudly, his head falling back into the pillow deeper. 

“please.. y/n..” he whimpers a little, his hips bucking up into yours causing you to jump forward a little, a quiet moan leaving you as you bite your lip. 

“are you in pain right now because you're horny?” you mumble as you push your hips down into his as you grind against him, his own hips grinding with yours as he groans lowly. 

“yes..” he was becoming breathless, his body already worked up enough to cum in his pants right then and there. there was enough aphrodisiac in seungcheols system to give him the sex drive of a bunny. 

“do.. do you need something to help with it?” you try to keep a straight mind while you both helplessly grind against each other. “like an antidote or something..” you breathe out quietly.

“i don’t have any remedies made right now..” he groans as he bucks his hips up into yours hard. “i need to get off.” he almost whispers as his eyebrows furrowed together. 

“can i help you get off?” you lean down to kiss gently at his jaw, nosing his cheek as he whines. 

“only if you want to..” he stops his movements, his legs shaking as he tries so hard to open his eyes to look at you. 

“i do want to help you,” you smile softly, moving your hands from his chest so you can fully lay on top of him, allowing you to grab his face. “besides, it would be a lot quicker with me here right?” he nods before he's rolling you two over so he's laying on top. he groans quietly in pleasure and pain, his hips instinctively rutting into yours. 

“tell me when to stop.” he whispers against your lips before he kisses you deeply, his body rocking as he deeply rolls his hips into yours, his pants getting tighter than before. you both were desperately moaning into the others mouth as you sloppily made out with one another, the sexual tension becoming thicker the longer you two took to get naked. 

‘cheol..” you manage to breathe out in between kisses, a needy whine escaping your lips when he nips at your tongue. 

“what's wrong?” he mumbles as he trails his lips down your cheek and neck, sucking dark marks into his favorite places. 

“it’s getting really hot..” you whisper while wiggling under his flaming hot body. one major side effect of the aphrodisiac is it makes the consumer really hot, almost like it mimics the body temperature that wolves and other animals experience during their heats. 

“can i take your clothes off?” 

“god yes.” you sit up along with him so he can pull your shirt off while using his magic to unclip and pull your bra off while he shimmies out of his own pants. you don't even get the drawstring of your pants undone before he’s pulling them off of you along with your panties. the cold air hitting your soaking hot cunt makes a shiver run down your spine and goosebumps rise up on your skin that seungcheol soothes away with his hands. 

“i am going to devour you.” he groans as his warm hands trail down your legs, pushing them wide open so he can comfortably sit between them. he takes one of his hands to jerk his cock a couple times, his precum coating every inch of him. when you whimper quietly seungcheol doesn’t waste a second before he's lining up at your glistening hole. “are you sure you want this?”

“yes, please.” you were starting to sound like the desperate one here despite your boyfriend's pupils being blown with lust and his cock throbbing from all the aphrodisiac in his system. “give it all to me.” with that seungcheol pushes into your tight cunt inch by inch, his hands resting on the back of your thighs to keep them pushed wide open. 

“fuck..” he groans lowly, your pussy clenching at the sound caused his hips to buck forward - his cock fully bottoming out. his fingers dig into your flesh and his jaw clenches while he waits for you to finish adjusting. when you give him the green light to start moving he doesn’t waste a breath before he's thrusting his hips. 

he wanted to start slow, his muscles tense with restraint as he watches the way your head tilts back and your bottom lip disappears between your teeth. letting go of your thighs seungcheol leans his whole body over yours so he can rest his forearms on the bed on either side of your head, caging you against the bed. instinctively, your legs wrap tightly around his waist while your arms snake around his neck, your nails digging into his back as he starts to thrust harder and faster - his slow pace long forgotten as his only thought was to make you moan as loudly as possible while also getting you to cum before him. 

“you feel so fucking good,” he grunts quietly as his hands grip onto the sheets tightly, his hips jackhammering into yours creating a loud squelching sound to echo throughout the room. “doing so fucking good for me, taking my cock like a good little whore.” your pussy clenches at his words causing him to fuck into you faster, the amount of slick you were creating made him slide in and out with ease. 

your nails drag down his shoulders, dark red lines forming in their wake as seungcheol fucks you like theres no tomorrow. a shiver runs up your boyfriend's spine when you rake your nails over his tattoos, the skin puffing up a little but no blood spills out as you continue to mark him up. 

‘keep doing that baby and i’ll cum.” he groans into your neck as he tries to will his fast approaching orgasm away. 

“cum for me my love,” you purr quietly before whining when he hits your g-spot. seungcheol didn’t think twice before he was spilling his thick load into your cunt. despite being sensitive he continues to thrust into you. his cock is still painfully hard, all the aphrodisiac hadn’t been fucked out of his system yet. “let.. let me ride you.” you pant quietly, yelping when he rolls you two over so he was laying on his back again. 

“ride me.” his voice dripped with dominance despite him letting you take over. once you were comfortable, your hands find purchase on seungcheols abdomen before you start to slowly bounce your hips. he groans lowly, his hips bucking up to jostle you around a little bit - the pace becoming too slow for him. biting your lip and digging your nails into his abs that flexed under your hands you pick up your pace, your hips slapping down against his harder as his cum leaked out onto his balls. 

“so big,” you coo quietly, your moans turning into whines as your eyes roll and flutter a little. his cock twitched inside you as you clenched harder than before - your orgasm approaching quickly. “so full.”

“gonna fuck you even more full,” seungcheol groans as his hands find their way to your hips so he can help you bounce on his cock harder, the need to be as deep inside of you as possible becoming bigger by the second. “fill you with my cum till you're dripping with it for days.”  

“please!” you moan loudly, your body jumping forward everytime his hips come up to meet yours. 

“please what baby? fuck.” he almost growls when you clench around him, his cock twitching and his balls tightening as his orgasm threatens to wash over him. 

“cum.. cum please, please!” you babble as you let your body collapse on top of his while he takes over in fucking into you again, his arms wrapping around your waist as he groans into your hair. 

“you can cum baby,” he mumbles as he plants his feet on the bed to get a better and more stable angle. “cum all over my cock.” and just like that the coil in your stomach snaps and your orgasm washes over you as you squirt a little all over his cock. 

“cheol!” you gasp and whine as he helped you ride out your orgasm, his second one washing over him as he unloaded his cum deep inside you. 

the two of you lay there for a couple minutes, panting while you both come down from your highs. your lower half began to ache a little as you slowly sat up, whimpering at how sensitive you were as you gently pulled yourself from seungcheols semi hard cock. 

“how do you feel?” you mumble as your hands rub at his chest, his quiet hums vibrating through your fingertips. 

“less horny that's for sure.” he laughs quietly, his dimples popping out as he lazily looks at you through his lashes. “how do you feel? i wasn’t too rough with you, was i?” you shake your head.

“not at all, besides i love it when you get rough.” you shrug your shoulders as your hands gently message their way down his stomach, his muscles flexing before relaxing - a content sigh leaving him. “is all the aphrodisiac out of your system?” the lower your hands got on his body the harder his cock got again. 

“i would say it is…” he watches you with dark eyes. “but it's hard to tell with your hands on me like that still.” he smirks at the sweet smile you give him.

“well you were still a little hard when i got up.” you crawl backwards slowly till your head is positioned right above his cock. “so maybe you still need my help.”

“i’ll never turn down your help baby.” he breathes out, gasping when your fingers wrap around the base, your fingertips almost touching. you jerk him off a couple times before you stick your tongue out to kitten lick at the head, the tip of your tongue swirling around his slit causing him to hiss and buck his hips up. giggling quietly you decide that teasing him could wait another night as you slowly lower your head, taking inch by inch until you couldn’t take anymore. 

“fuck,” your chest swells with pride at being able to make him sound so fucked out. slowly you start to bob your head, your hand wrapped around the part you didn’t get shoved down your throat yet. “mouth feels so good.” his groans were like music to your ears as you picked up the pace. 

considering he was already sensitive and overstimulated from the oil and his first two orgasms, his third climax wasn't far off. his legs began to tense up a little the closer it got causing you to use both your hands to soothe at his legs while you worked on deep throating him. after a little bit of effort you were able to nestle him nicely down your throat as he began to buck his hips up, fucking your throat as he chased after his next orgasm. 

“y/n!” he moans, his orgasm washing over him like a tidal wave as he cums down your throat and all over your mouth. swallowing every last bit of cum you make sure to kiss your way back up his body, giggling when he laughs quietly. “you’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers right before you kiss him on the lips, his tongue instantly exploring every inch of your mouth as he tastes himself on your tongue. 

“you’re amazing too.” you whisper before kissing him again, this time softer. after pulling away from one another, seungcheol slowly sits up carefully so he doesn’t head butt you. 

“lets go get cleaned up.” he stands up and stretches, groaning as the bones in his back pop. you can't help but drool a little at the muscles in his back, they flex so deliciously as he stretches his arms out and the black ink mixed with the deep red scratch marks was making your head dizzy. when he was done seungcheol picked you up gently to carry you to the bathroom where he ran you two a hot bath - making sure to put the correct soap and oils into the water so you can get the maximum relaxation effect. 

“not to alarm you or anything but its almost ten thirty.” you hum quietly as you relax deeper into the water while using seungcheols chest as your backrest. 

“seven hours minimum is needed for the crescent moon water.” he mumbles against your neck as he relaxes with you. “as long as i'm out and setting up the water by eleven it’ll be fine.” 

“you better not be out there all night.” you mumble already knowing he won't be joining you in bed later until sunrise. 

“i'll try baby.” he laughs quietly when you grumble out a quiet ‘bullshit’ before sitting up to grab your shampoo wanting to hurry up and get out so that seungcheol can attend to his water and you can go to bed (where you’ll one hundred percent pout until your boyfriend comes to join you). “i love you.” he coos, smiling when he notices how hard you're trying not to smile as you lather shampoo into yours then his hair. 

“i love you too..” you mumble, finally giving in and offering him a smile as you helped rinse his hair out. “but you better come to bed tonight, or i’ll strap you to it tomorrow.” he laughs quietly as he grabs your hips so he can pull you close enough for him to kiss the tip of your nose. 

“i’ll come to bed tonight baby, i promise.” and he did keep his promise, after spending two hours setting everything up and making sure it was all protected properly he crawled into your guys bed where he proceeded to lay on top of you like a cat (and even if he was up a couple hours later putting the water away before the sun came out you couldn’t complain too much about his lack of sleep since he did keep his promise, and he took a nap later that day per your request while you took care of some of the potion making that didn’t require magic).

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#svthub #svthub.collab #the story of pink eros collab #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #seungcheol x reader #witch!seungcheol #tw food

[lissrissye]

“𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰…” | bungo stray dogs (bsd)

osamu dazai, nakahara chuuya, ryunsouke akutagawa, gogol nikolai, dostoevsky fyodor

🪻𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; you are weeping because you feel insecure… they, of course, wouldn’t leave you alone just like that. they come into the room to comfort you, attempting to reassure you and tell you just how perfect you are… because you are ! <3

🪻 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 ; i lowkey got this idea since i was feeling so damn insecure earlier today <3 but just remember your self worth, pooks! you’re literally worth the world, so love yourself and be confident, mi amor ! try to stay positive, and compliment yourself because you fucking deserve it !

🪻 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 ; fluff, sweet romance, safe for work, comfort, angst

𝒪𝓈𝒶𝓂𝓊 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾 — 太宰治

The keys inserted in the keyhole as Dazai twists it, unlocking the door after a day of investigating tiring cases. A huff escapes his lips softly as he pushes the door open, the fresh scent of home meeting his nostrils. He slips off his tan trench coat, letting it drop off his shoulders as he hangs it on the coat rack at the enterance with the first instinct to look for you. You were his first priority.

A soft noise of a sobbing seeps from the bedroom. You were the only one in the house, so Dazai rushes to the bedroom to see your silhouette in the dim room, the gentle moonlight illuminating a soft pearly white light. He walks to your side with an empathetic frown, bending down. —“Are you okay, belladonna? Please don’t be afraid to express your worries to me, my dear.”

You slowly turn your head to your brunette lover, a quiet cry coming from you as you reach over to embrace him for comfort. Osamu obliges happily, wrapping his arms around you and nodding as you vent to him. He sees his past self in you, and he wishes to protect you… he doesn’t want you to go through the things he had to learn from. He doesn’t want you to get hurt. No, no never. —“I get it, belladonna. Keep going, let it all out and do my hold back. It will only pain you more to bottle everything up. Trust me, I know from personal experience, and I don’t want you to go through the same things I had too.”

𝒩𝒶𝓀𝒶𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 — 中原中也

With a glass of wine in hand, Chuuya returns from the bar after a mission complete for the Port Mafia. All he wishes is a refreshing, undisturbed 7 hours of sleep at the very least. He reaches for his keys as the keyhole accepts it with ease, the door making a soft click as it’s unlocked. He twists the handle, too lazy to even push it open, so he just uses his weight for it to swing open. He kicks off his glossy black shoes while heading inside to look for you.

—“Hmmph— pretty? Where are ‘ya…?” The executive calls out your name several times to receive no response. With a groan, he sets down his glass of liquor on the coffee table and heads up the stairs… he checks the kitchen, the living room, the restroom, the guest room… then eventually, after walking around the house, the only option was you were in your guy’s shared bedroom. Chuuya grabs into the handle and opens the door, as you didn’t put much thought into locking it.

With wide eyes, the first thing he sees is you, sitting on the cold floor while holding your knees, softly rocking back and forth. His first assumption is that someone had hurt you, though his blue orbs couldn’t discover any injuries on you. He sighs while approaching you, immediately cradling you in his arms and putting you up on the bed. —“Shhh, don’t cry… You boyfriend is here. Tell me everything, okay? Let me relive your stress and release the weight off your shoulders. You don’t have to hold it in anymore.” As you explain to ginger darling that you’re feeling insecure, he listens intensely… —“Don’t be insecure, you’re fucking gorgeous, Ma chėrie…”

𝑅𝓎𝓊𝓃𝑜𝓈𝓊𝓀𝑒 𝒜𝓀𝓊𝓉𝒶𝑔𝒶𝓌𝒶 — 芥川龍之介

After a day with Atsushi, Akutagawa was irritated and tired. He despised working with the jinko more than anything. Slowly stepping up the stairs leading up to the door, he searched his pockets for his keys. He then had to took the time to find the right key for the front door, making him grumble softly. Finally, he positioned the key with the keyhole, letting it slip in as he turned the key.

With a sigh, the Diablo placed his keys on the coffee table and bent down to remove his shoes, frequently putting it his hand over his mouth to cough. You haven’t answered his text messages, which made him quite concerned. He heard soft whimpering, as if someone tried to be silent. It came from the living room. He quickly made his way there only to find you curled up in a blanket, a pillow buried in your face. You sounded so vulnerable, dread and sorrow washing over you… Akutagawa hated seeing you like this, it pained his heart.

—“Hey— hey, hey… why are you crying? Are you hurt, are you okay? Please, please tell me…” Your black haired lover gently extracted the pillow from your grasp, cupping your face with his hands. He was silently panicking because he didn’t know how to comfort someone as he himself never experienced it except from you, so he tried to intimidate his actions. Despite being terrible at it, you appreciate it because he was attempting, and doing his absolute best to make you feel better. —“Do you want to… cuddle? Maybe eat snacks?… Erm…”

𝒢𝑜𝑔𝑜𝓁 𝒩𝒾𝓀𝑜𝓁𝒶𝒾 —ゴーゴリニコライ

After a day of annoying Fyodor and terrorizing innocent citizens for fun, Nikolai skipped to the front door and immediately started to unlock the door as quickly as he could. He created this sort of challenge for himself, how quick could he open the door everyday. Well, let’s just say Nikolai wasn’t too normal. Okay, far from the ordinary human being. With a hum, he managed to head inside in approximately 15 seconds or so. It took him a bit to decipher which key was for the door.

—“Oh, oh my little angel!~ Where are you?~ I need you to help me clean blood stains of my clothes, pretty please~ I’ll find you if I need too!~” The jester cooed your name softly, his voice reaching your ears because of the echos in the hallway. His voice was accompanied with a maniacal giggle. He didn’t bother to remove his shoes and skipped away to the restroom to one, see if you were there, and two, to wash the blood stains on his white clothes. With a soft hum, he switched the light on to see you on the ground, covering your stomach.

—“Hm?~ My beautiful dove?~” Nikolai couldn’t help but feel empathy for you, as he couldn’t lie that he felt something wash over him as he watched you in this state, all vulnerable. He bend down, first spraying some cologne to attempt to cover up the horrible stench on the blood on his clothes. —“Shhh, shhh~” He whispered softly on your ear, a bit stiff when it came to comforting you but he did his best and started to make jokes to try to make you laugh.

𝒟𝑜𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑒𝓋𝓈𝓀𝓎 𝐹𝓎𝑜𝒹𝑜𝓇 — ドストエフスキー・

A long, long day that felt like eternity with Nikolai annoying him, Fyodor was finally home. A soft grunt of exhaustion emerged from him as he checks his pockets for his keys, patting it down until he feels a bulge. He shoves his hand in that pocket and profess to find which key unlocks the front door. He makes sure not to loose it as he pushes it in the keyhole and twists it.

—“Myshka, I’m home.” The terrorist spoke softly, removing his shoes accompanied by his fluffy ushanka hat. When he noticed you aren’t running towards him as per usual, he tilts his head slightly in confusion. He walks around the house to look for you because you were acting very strange. He didn’t even have to see you to even know. As he approached the living room, he turns his head to the sofa to see two blankets covering you. You eeemed to attempt on hiding from him at first.

Fyodor did not hesitate to rush by your side. Cruel, heartless, brutal. Those were the words he received from the public as a unregretful terrorist. Though, you could argue with that just now as he scooped you up immediately and sat beside you, treating you like a princess. Fyodor could already tell what was happening as well, you didn’t have to tell him you were insecure. It made you feel better because you wouldn’t have to speak. He whispered sweet praises in your ear to show you how much of a precious treasure you are to him… —“You’re absolutely stunning and perfect the way you are, my dear… don’t change that.”

#bungo stray dogs #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa x you #akutagawa x y/n #nikolai gogol #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #bsd nikolai #nikolai x reader #nikolai x you #nikolai x y/n #bungo

[juanarc-thethird]

Jaune meets... an "Assassin!" (Blake Belladonna)

White Fang headquarters

Sienna: *Angry* They arrested our supplier!

Fang Member: *Scared* Y-Yes ma'am.

Sienna: How?!

Fang Member: L-It seems that he was caught by a huntsman named Jaune Arc.

Sienna: Who the fuck is that?!

Fang Member: J-Just some regular guy, I think.

Sienna: Good lord... Blake!

Blake: *appears out of nowhere* Yes ma'am.

Sienna: I want you to send a team to free Roman and his partner from jail.

Blake: Understood. *Walks away*

Sienna: Wait!

Blake: Hm?

Sienna: I also want you to kill that Jaune Arc guy. Let him be an example to anyone who tries to get in our way.

Blake: But isn't that to much?

Sienna: Are you questioning my orders?

Blake: No ma'am.

Sienna: Excelente, now you can leave.

Blake: *Disappears out of nowhere*

Sienna: *Smiling* Enjoy your last moments Jaune Arc. Your head will be mine.

A couple of days later.

Jaune walks through the park with a nutella crepe with banana. She sits on a bench and starts to eat it.

Blake: *In a bush* (So this is the Jaune Arc that caught Roman, huh. He doesn't look like much.)

Blake takes her katana, and slowly pulls it out.

Blake: (He has a lot of openings. This will be easy.)

Blake takes a deep breath, but just as she was about to jump out of the bushes for her attack, she is interrupted.

Jaune: Thought you could sneak up on me, huh?

Blake: *Worry* (W-What? He knows Im'm here?)

Jaune: A lost stray cat.

Blake: *Panic* (He knows I'm here! Shit, I have to run away!)

But before running away, she is stopped once more

Jaune: I know what you came for. But unfortunately it is impossible. But it's not too late for you yet. I can help you find a good place. A place where you can have a real family and leave this dangerous life of yours. Doesn't sound bad at all, right?

Blake: *Silence*

Jaune: Just come to me and I will help you.

Blake eventually runs away, leaving Jaune behind.

Blake: *Confuse* What a weird guy. But maybe....

Back with Jaune.

Cat: *Pulling Juane's pants* Meow

Jaune: I already told you that you can't eat this.

Cat: Meow~

Jaune: Aww, I can't be mad at you. Let's find you a family. *He lifts him up* I heard that Mr. Guzman is somewhat lonely. Maybe you can keep him company, what do you think?

Cat: Meow!

Jaune: That's the spirit.

Later that day at night

Jaune walks back to the Inn where he and his friends are staying. Turning the corner he finds a black haired girl inside a box that he says "Adopt me".

Jaune: (Oh no. How many strange people live in this town? Maybe if I ignore her she won't bother me.)

Jaune walks without seeing her, but the girl grabs his hand.

Jaune: (Shit!) *Looks at her* Y-Yes?

Blake: My name is Blake, and I am here to serve you, master. *Bow her head*

Jaune: *Confuse* What?

A new member joined the group! Party members: 6

#Jaune meets... AU #jaune arc #jaune #rwby jaune #rwby jaune arc #blake bellodona #rwby blake #blake #rwby blake belladonna #rwby sienna khan #rwby sienna #sienna #sienna khan #rwby #rwby shitpost

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Under the Influence by Chris Brown

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

---

His index finger rapped against the glass of scotch, the rhythm not bound by any conventional beat but rather mirroring the erratic tempo of Roman’s internal world. He listened intently to the audio from Belladonna's police interview. He’d lost track of how many times he’d replayed it, too many to count. He was fixated in particular on replaying the moments where Belladonna described her understanding of their relationship on an endless loop.

“Roman only cares about himself. You’re nothing to him.” 

His lip curled up each time he listened to Ramirez’s bold assertions. Just who the fuck did he think he was? Every word that he spoke only egged on Roman’s more violent intrusive thoughts, every little dig at Belladonna, every attempt to rile her up and his index finger tapped a little harder on the glass. But then Belladonna’s voice came over the recording and his tempo returned to its earlier calm but odd tempo.

“I know.”

"I'm not stupid—maybe a little starry-eyed, but not stupid. I see the score. And you’re right, men like Roman don't fall in love; but they do dip their toes in it for a bit. I get it. Sooner or later, he'll move on, find someone more exciting, someone willing to do things I won't. And when that day comes, I'll thank him for the good times and go my own way."

Then his tapping stopped altogether, and his grip on the glass relaxed so much it nearly slipped from his hand.

“And what if he doesn’t let you go that easy?” 

"Life's short—last year sure hammered that home. If Jimmy's fate tells us anything, it's that nothing's guaranteed. Not today, not tomorrow. So, until my clock runs out, I'm going to enjoy every second I can, and right now, I’m enjoying them with Roman. He makes me feel alive." 

He grinned at that last part, so he made her feel alive, huh? Funny, he usually had the exact opposite reaction on people.

He’d had more than a few run screaming from his presence when he lost his temper, when the mask of the confident club owner slipped and the monster beneath it peaked out, eyes burning and frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog. One way or another, none of them had what it took to handle a man like him, though to be fair, he’d never been terribly interested in women as anything more than a means to let out some pent-up frustrations, and they didn’t always enjoy it either. He wasn’t a gentle lover. That wasn’t to say Roman ever forced anyone to do anything they didn’t want to, he wasn’t one of those types. 

Women were a fickle thing that he never understood, like most men, and he’d seen them all. The starry-eyed naive girls hoping to bring out a softer side to him, the wanna-be she-doms who thought they could control him, what a laugh. The ones that insisted they could be everything he wanted and meet his every desire, not in his experience. There had even been a few crazies who’d insisted they could match his particular brand of insanity, but Roman had time and time proved to be too much for even them to handle and in the end, they were just words.

He’d listened to the interview a handful of times since returning to the penthouse with Belladonna, long after the doc had told him to sit down and wait, there wasn’t anything else Roman could do apart from look like a lovesick puppy at her bedside. And he sure as shit wasn’t about to do that, though it didn’t stop him from occasionally putting down the recorder and wandering into the room to look at her. 

He'd managed to keep his visits under five, and he certainly didn’t sit by her bedside, or rather his bed all weepy-eyed clutching her hand, no he simply stood in the doorway like a respectable psychopath, thank you very much. At least, he’d started out that way. With each visit he found himself drawn a little closer into the room but it had been hours since their return, and every time he looked at her, his gut twisted into tighter knots. She looked like a rag doll, her olive skin unnaturally pale and sickly—a sight that grated on him. When the hell was she going to wake up? This was just plain ridiculous.

He’d nearly strode into the room with the intent of shaking her awake but the second he’d felt her breath on his outstretched hand the sudden urge died inside him replaced by something he couldn’t understand or explain and he once more retreated to his office. Stan’s assurances did little to quell his unease; he claimed she was fine, just experiencing the aftermath of a sugar crash, and that sleeping was a natural consequence but he wasn't convinced. 

Everyone in this whole damned penthouse was entirely too calm. He felt like he was going crazy. Well, crazier.

He didn’t even understand why he was so fixated on her. There was no reason to be.

Damn it, there wasn’t a safer place for her than right here, in his bed nonetheless.

She was fine. 

It was fine. 

Everything was fine!

Except it wasn’t. And he wasn’t the only one who knew that.

Powerless wasn’t a feeling Roman Sionis liked at all and that’s exactly how he felt. Powerless. All he could do was wait for her to wake up, and then they would have a discussion about her stupid decision to leave his penthouse. They’d most definitely be going over some of her answers in that interview… Oh, he had some thoughts about that too.

But then his thoughts would circle back to the reason for her departure in the first place, and he clenched his fists in frustration, cracking his knuckles, before pouring another scotch.

He wasn’t good at this. The whole waiting thing, patience wasn’t his strong suit. God, what he wouldn’t have given for a little good old-fashioned interrogation right now, just something to take his mind off the uncharted territory he was drifting in. He wanted familiarity and routine, his normal, so his mind wandered back to the only thing he could approach cold-heartedly; the recent encounter with Cobblepot. Surely focusing on business matters would provide some respite from the chaos of his emotions. Ew, emotions, what was he, turning into some pussy little girl? But as he replayed the scene in his mind, the anger that had simmered within him boiled over once more.

At first, he was furious with Belladonna for finding herself in such a precarious situation, his lip twitching. But when he saw the gun pointed at her, his fury transformed into a blazing inferno of rage. At that moment, he felt an overwhelming need to protect her, to assert his dominance and stake his claim.

And then, without hesitation, he uttered those possessive words in front of both groups of men. 

‘His woman.’

His.

It was a slip of the tongue, he told himself. Of course it was, he would never say something so stupid.

But then it wasn’t. Was it? 

In his mind, he went back and forth, debating every which way he could, talking himself in circles. It was a purely tactical decision he’d made, a carefully selected choice of words. By attaching Belladonna to him like that, it sent a message loud and clear; keep away. 

But at the same time, it was a double-edged sword, making her a bigger target, a vulnerability to Roman opening him up to further attacks from those who were stupid enough to use her against him. And of course, he had to protect her anyway, because if anything happened to her, his life would only get more complicated with the police breathing down his goddamn neck.

Frustrated and angry, he clenched his teeth and gripped the leather arms of his chair before everything inside him welled up and exploded like a reactor, chucking his glass of scotch at the wall in a burst of murderous glitter. Why had every moment since he’d decided to let her live only been incredibly complicated and taxing? 

This wasn’t like him, and he knew that his little heroic display would cause problems within his ranks. His tunnel vision wasn’t so all-consuming that he missed the shocked and curious looks his men gave him as he left her loft, carrying Belladonna in his arms. No, this was going to be something he’d have to sort out later, probably in a very grand fashion. He needed to be more vigilant now than ever, more ruthless, which meant she had to stop being so damn careless. He had to bring her in closer, tell her more. Pull her in deeper.

Most of his men were simply hired help and very few of them possessed what one might think of as genuine loyalty; Zsasz aside, he couldn’t think of anyone specifically that he didn’t have to make a direct deposit to for reliability. Until the enigma that was Belladonna Black.

"If you want me to spin a story to help you dodge your duties and let the real killer go, find someone else," she asserted. "Roman didn’t kill Jimmy. He was with me, delivering a memorable experience against a cinderblock wall, then I gave him my number and got a lift home."

He smirked again as the audio came to its conclusion. She said she could do it and she’d done it. She’d lied for him and in exquisite fashion as well, it was a good performance, one she deserved a standing ovation for. She’d been in control of every second of that interview from the moment she’d sat down. It sounded so convincing and he would have given anything to see the look on Ramirez’s face, but Derrick assured him it was everything he imagined it was. 

A quick flash of frustration, his stupid, fat, fucking face filling with disappointment and anger. But mostly it was a realization that Belladonna Black wasn’t going to be one turned so easily, and that brought a smile to his face.

Which was, precisely when the twin Detective Douchebags turned their focus on him. They wound him up easily and he couldn’t explain why. Well, that wasn’t true, he knew why he’d gotten so wound up. It was because, at the time, he hadn’t entirely trusted Belladonna; he didn’t know if he could. He knew it now though, and so did those fucking cops.

Fear didn’t keep someone loyal, it kept them afraid, and in that interview room, Craven had used that fear of Belladonna’s trustworthiness against him. All his pep talks, all his charm on Belladonna, and the few threats he’d made against her had all been unnecessary, she trusted him enough to put her neck on the line for him and he hadn’t exactly been a gentleman. At best he’d been a reliable source of thinly veiled threats, promises he’d yet to deliver on, and the occasional orgasm.

No, he couldn’t explain what was happening to him these last two months, any more than he could explain his decision to let Belladonna live. It was a whim. But the facts were the facts now, she was in far too deep for her to just disappear. And he was quickly coming to the understanding that he wanted it that way. That he wanted her to continue to drive him insane with her smart mouth and constant retorts, wanted to keep showing up at her work and making a spectacle out of their displays of affection but he also wanted to keep driving her insane too. He didn’t know why but he loved it.

Two firm raps at the door pulled Roman from his thoughts, and Zsasz leaned against the doorframe, his sharp gaze taking in his brooding boss. He looked to Zsasz and gave a simple head nod to enter, then he rose to grab another glass and poured himself a new drink.

"It's not too late. We can still find a solution for her," 

Roman paused, and the gentle clinking of the decanter against his glass ceased.

Zsasz’s suggestion lacked his usual sharp certainty, but rather it held an edge of hesitancy that wasn’t typical for him. To some degree he was right, people disappeared in Gotham every day, never to be seen again, but the notion of Belladonna being one of them wasn’t one he was willing to entertain anymore.

Roman took a long sip of his drink before responding in a flat, emotionless voice, "No, Zsasz. I think we're past that now."

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, knowing that what Belladonna said about their relationship was true, but hating it all the same. He wanted her to want him, he couldn't pinpoint why, she had become important to him. It both irked and exhilarated him. It was the way she’d looked at him like he was the hero, as opposed to what he really was, the monster in the closet. Somehow she was changing from a pawn he liked to play with, to a queen whom he was pulling out all the stops for.

Zsasz sat down "If she's here to stay, we'll need to increase her security. We’re looking at major changes to protect her and address the problems this’ll cause."

Roman nodded, understanding that both he and Zsasz had similar concerns about maintaining his reputation as a formidable criminal without appearing weak. The notion that a woman could soften a man’s heart like him was a fantasy, the fact was; Roman was about to get meaner. There would be fewer severed ears and more severed limbs and plucked eyes.

“Where do we start?” Roman pushed a glass over to Zsasz. “Could we just burn down the whole damn city?”

“That’d be a lot of bodies,” Zsasz replied after a moment pouring himself a drink with no ice.

“Oh, what’s a few hundred thousand bodies?” 

Zsasz smirked and looked as though he was running the numbers in his head but ultimately he came to the same conclusion he knew Roman had come to. They needed to be smart about this, the game was changing, and losers clung to outdated rules, while the victors won by creating their own.

“Her place is a weak point, had the men going through it top to bottom, found a few listening devices aside from yours, but we’ll need a team to do a more in-depth sweep for anything else. Cobblepot has access to top-tier gear, I doubt we’ve found everything.”

“Oswald… He’s not even the real problem is he?” The ice in Roman’s glass clinked with another sip. “What’s the word in the ranks?”

“There's some mutterings but nothing that can’t be fixed by an appropriate show of force.” An appropriate show of force usually meant bodies or blood. Or both. “She’ll have to step up too, they need to be just as afraid of her as they are of you.”

Roman scoffed, that was an amusing idea, his men being afraid of Belladonna, sure she had a resting bitch face that could make most people shrivel, but he couldn’t see Belladonna so much as squishing a bug. “Where are we with Jimmy?”

"Everything seems to line up with your plans," Zsasz reported, "except for one thing: Jimmy doesn't appear to have any association with Cobblepot." 

“How the fuck is that possible? He had at least ten grand worth of product all with Cobblepots branding, and the boys at the lab even had it tested, it was all legit and 100% pure.”

"Well, Cobblepot did say you two needed to talk," Zsasz replied, a sly grin on his face. "We could get the information we need if you handle him carefully."

Roman agreed, scowling at the mention of Cobblepot's name. "How the fuck is he involved in this?" he muttered under his breath, adding, "Keep your enemies closer..."

Just then, a knock at the door alerted both men to the presence of Roman's personal doctor. 

"Roman, she’s awake."

—

Belladonna's eyes fluttered open, the world around her resembled more of a kaleidoscope; unfocused and hazy. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to her surroundings, the only source of light came from a bedside table and a light outside the room she was in. The walls were a dark, rich color and adorned with expensive artwork. The furniture was modern and sleek, befitting of someone with lots of money. The sheets were luxurious and cool to the touch when she stretched out on them only to realize she was lying in a bed that wasn't her own. She knew this was likely Roman’s penthose but it wasn’t until she turned into his pillow and breathed it in.

A mixture of expensive cologne with an underlying hint of something dark and alluring. The clean, fresh scent of soap hung in the air, mingling with the cologne to create a distinctly masculine smell. And beneath it all was a raw, primal scent that could only be described as pure testosterone. All of it screaming Roman Sionis.

As she struggled to sit up, the room spun around her, and a sharp pain shot through her arm and she drew in a ragged breath; somewhere between a shriek and a gasp. When she finally managed to prop herself up, she noticed something that made her stomach drop: there was a needle lodged in her arm, connected to an IV bag hanging next to the bed. Panic quickly set in as she struggled to focus on the contents of the bag; her vision was still hazy. She had no clue what was being pumped into her and began to hyperventilate.

She couldn’t just unhook it, she didn’t know how, and she had nothing to stop the bleeding. She wanted to get out of there. She tried to stand but that was a mistake and dizziness washed over her like a tidal wave, causing her to lose her balance and fall back, grasping at the nightstand.

"Shit!" She muttered, knocking over a glass of water in the process, its contents spilling onto the cold floor, glass shattering everywhere. The needle in her arm shifted causing more pain and blood began to trickle down her arm. Fuck!

Footsteps quickly approached, and a man she had never seen before entered the room. Panic surged through her veins, and she scrambled away from him while trying to avoid the glass.

"Stay away from me!" Her voice was scratchy and weak.

"Miss Black, it's alright, I’m Dr. Stan," he said calmly, his hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. "I'm Roman's personal physician, and you're currently in his penthouse." She studied him for a minute, he could be a doctor, sure, he looked the right age, and his glasses gave him a scholarly kind of vibe. And not that it meant anything but she was fairly sure, he was wearing a hairpiece, but that wasn’t really a judgment on her part, just an observation.

"Roman?" 

"You had a sugar crash, do you remember?" She squinted like she was trying to remember but groaned and clutched her head, ultimately shaking it. "Ok, I understand, don't worry, you're perfectly safe, I’m going to help you."

“What is that?”

He approached carefully like one might cozy up to a wounded animal with the intention of helping it. “It’s a dextrose solution, you were dehydrated and your sugar levels were too low, I had to administer an IV to get you to a safer place.”

Belladonna's gaze darted to the needle in her arm again, and she winced as she felt a sharp pain. "Can you take it out?" she pleaded, her voice tinged with urgency.

The doctor nodded, understanding her distress. "Of course," he said, moving closer to inspect the IV. 

As her panic subsided, and she allowed him to come closer, he carefully helped her back onto the bed, kicking the glass aside. 

What kind of name was Stan? Was that his first name or his last? Did doctors go by their first names when it came to personal doctors? She didn’t even know they made house calls. He reached for his medical bag that had been on the floor and pulled out a few things, 

"How long was I out?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's been a few hours," 

She winced as he pressed a quarter-folded piece of gauze against the needle site, but she mostly stayed completely still. Once the bleeding subsided, he took an alcohol wipe and started cleaning up the blood that had trickled down her arm, before turning to the IV. His movements were precise and controlled, the adhesive tape pulled on her skin and it was the kind of sensation that made her want to rub the spot profusely. 

"Hold pressure here," he instructed, placing another piece of gauze over the needle site before he finally removed it. Then he reached for a roll of blue self-adhesive tape and wrapped it around her arm, securing everything in place with a bit of pressure. “Better?”

“Much.”

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like the floor of a taxi," she admitted, rubbing her temples, he chuckled. At least her sense of humor was intact.

"Understandable. You were in pretty rough shape when Roman found you. Let’s check your vitals,” 

He reached back into his bag and began pulling out several items, setting them on the bedside table; a blood pressure cuff, one of those things they stick on your finger at the doctor’s office, a stethoscope, and a thermometer. “You know, you’re very lucky, Roman knew how to stabilize your sugars." 

Roman did what? She didn’t remember any of that, the last thing she remembered was seeing Roman looking as angry as she’d ever seen him telling her to come to him. 

Belladonna furrowed her brow in concentration, trying to recall the events that had led her here but everything was hazy at best and it really did feel like a dream. 

"What happened?"

He placed the cuff on her left arm and inflated it, inducing the familiar annoying pressure, then placed the stethoscope on her brachial artery listening as the pressure released slowly. 

"You called Roman, and he arrived before you lost consciousness." 

She vaguely remembered Roman telling her to eat something but it was so unclear she thought it was part of a dream. Doctor Stan must have noticed the constant licking of her lips and he supplied the answer before she even asked the question, “He said he got you to eat some M&Ms, but you were pretty out of it, good thing you had them handy, complex carbohydrates are your friend at a time like this.” 

He loosened the cuff and the tingling in her fingers began to ebb. “120/80, that's good.”

He placed the pressure cuff back into the bag and placed the little monitoring thing, whatever it was, on her finger and then brought the thermometer to her forehead. 

“He was pretty frantic when called me and had me come over, said it was a top-tier emergency, and to be honest I expected worse,” the thermometer beeped and he seemed pleased with the result, “98 degrees.” He said passively, then he took his stethoscope from his neck and put it on. "Alright, Belladonna, I'm going to listen to your breathing now. I need you to take slow, deep breaths through your nose. Inhale deeply, then exhale slowly."

"Roman was worried about me?" she asked skeptically before complying with the first breath, he moved the stethoscope and indicated another deep breath.

"Very much so," the doctor said, nodding. "I've never seen him like this. When he called me, I was surprised it wasn't about him being in trouble – but well, Roman has a way of defying conventional expectations." He moved the stethoscope one more time, “Few more deep breaths,”

She nearly laughed, then breathed in deeply and slowly several times. Feeling a spark of warmth at the thought as she settled back onto the bed.

"He’ll be glad to know you’re awake," He put the stethoscope away and took her pulse, centering his index and middle finger on her radial artery and applied pressure while looking at his watch. 

“Your pulse looks good. Alright, sit tight, I’ll be right back.” 

Roman was worried? No, he didn’t say worried, he said; frantic. It was hard to picture Roman any other way than amused or angry, there was no in-between. At least not that she had ever seen. It was impossible to picture Roman as anything other than composed, what exactly did that mean? What was frantic Roman like? Probably very similar to angry Roman, she reasoned. 

Roman wasn’t a man who liked it when he wasn’t in control. That much was well understood. She could almost imagine him yelling into a phone, lots of swearing, probably reiterating that money was no objective and it was a sweet thought. One that caught her off guard so much so that she almost didn’t notice the multiple sets of approaching footsteps. 

Moments later, Roman appeared with Zsasz in tow. His expression was stern, but maybe there was just a hint of concern in his eyes. She wondered if she was imagining it.

“Welcome back, Angel.” Roman’s heavy and dark voice drifted back into the room. "Doctor, what's the verdict?" 

Doctor Stan looked up at Roman and he seemed very pleased, "I think she’ll be fine, just going to do a few more things and I’ll be out of your hair, let's check your glucose levels." 

He took out an alcohol wipe and produced a glucometer, a lancet, and a bandaid. As if second nature she held out her index finger, he wiped down her finger and the lancet snapped out pricking her fingertip, she made a face at the lancet and stuck her finger but otherwise didn’t react. 

“Any lingering pains?” He pressed the test strip to her finger and the blood soaked into the strip.

“Just a headache.” 

“Well, that’s normal, I’d recommend some electrolytes, sports drinks, or maybe some coconut water.” 

Zsasz pulled a face at the lancet and the small bead of blood on her fingertip, he seemed uncomfortable. 

“Oh, come on now Zsasz, with all the work you do for Roman, a little finger prick test has you squirming?”

“You have any idea how many nerve endings are in your fingertips?”

It seemed an off thing for Zsasz to be uncomfortable with but she supposed it made sense, she instinctively brought her fingertip to her lips but Roman quickly grabbed it and wrapped the bandage around her index finger.

“As a matter of fact I do, learned all about it in med school, over 3000 per square inch.” 

He fed the test strip into the glucometer and waited for the device to finish its reading. 

“The headache we can manage with over-the-counter headache medicine, but if you like I can give you something a little stronger, drink plenty of fluids, no strenuous activity.”

The glucometer beeped and he checked the results, his brow furrowed. 

"Belladonna, your blood sugar level is a bit lower than we'd like to see right now. It's currently measuring between 60 to 70 milligrams per deciliter, which is slightly below the normal range for someone without diabetes. While it's not dangerously low, it's important to bring it up a bit to ensure you're feeling your best. A good balanced meal with carbohydrates, proteins, healthy fats, fruits, and vegetables should fix that. How do you feel about having a snack or a drink with some sugar in it?"

She offered a weak smile and nodded, “Sounds good actually,” Roman whispered something to Zsasz and he quickly left the room.

"A nice quiet evening will have you back on your feet and let's try to avoid any more sugar crashes, no skipping meals.” He actually wagged his finger at her, she hadn’t been chided by a doctor in a hot minute, but she liked Stan. Seemed like a nice guy and she added his name to the list of people whom she was shocked to associate with Roman Sionis. 

“A nice evening of what the kids call 'Netflix and chill.'"

"It’s already handled" Roman agreed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What sort of snack in the meantime?”

“Candy can work in a pinch but let’s try to stay away from it, something like fruit would be better, it's absorbed more easily into the bloodstream. Don’t forget to replace that emergency stash of M&Ms in your bag.”

“With or without the chocolate fountain?” The doctor just chuckled, shaking his head at Roman, and packed up his bag. 

“Get some rest, Miss Black, call me if you need anything.” He spoke the last part more to Roman than Belladonna. 

"Thank you, Stan," 

Roman walked Dr. Stan to the door and in the shadows that fell over them, but they were still in Belladonna’s view, as was the small stack of cash Roman tried to discreetly hand him. Stan held out his hand to Roman and tried to wave it away but Roman didn’t budge.

“Oh, no, no, Roman, this is far too much. It's not like I removed a bullet."

"Not this time," Roman countered, his tone darkly humorous.

Dr. Stan chuckled and nodded, “Well, this was one of the easier house calls,” As they reached the door Dr. Stan mentioned something Belladonna heard but couldn’t understand it was too muffled from their distance, and Roman didn't respond.

There was the sound of Roman footsteps coming back into the room, but when he returned to her side, he held a pomegranate in his hand and wore the look of a parent about to lecture her. She pulled her knees a bit closer to her chest as he sat on the bed, still not saying a word.

She watched as Roman meticulously peeled the crimson pomegranate, its juice staining his fingers. 

“Where’d Zsasz go?”

"I had him go get Thai for you." Her eyes widened in surprise; she didn't recall ever telling him she liked Thai, but then again, who didn’t?

"How'd you know I like Thai food?" she asked, curiosity evident in her voice.

Roman smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I have my ways, Angel." He held out the pomegranate to her. She hesitated, never having eaten one before, then pushed it away, seeking answers instead.

"Roman, what happened? Tell me about Oswald Cobblepot. Why was he at my place?"

"He was dropping off my dry cleaning," he replied humorlessly, but his expression turned serious, holding out the crimson gem-like pomegranate seed again, “I’m waiting, Angel.” 

“So am I.” Stubborn as ever.

"I’ll make you a deal; questions answered, but only if you eat." 

He gently pressed a pomegranate seed between her lips, holding his fingers there for her to bite down on. After a few seconds, her lips gave way and she accepted the piece of fruit, her lips brushing his fingers. He seemed relieved. 

"Ask away, Angel," Roman said, biting into the pomegranate like an apple. He placed a chunk of the seeded fruit into her hand, which she studied for a minute before plucking several little ruby-like seeds and popping them into her mouth. The tart sweetness burst on her tongue in a way that put strawberries to shame, and she asked;

"Who is Oswald Cobblepot?"

"Oswald is a criminal who deals with stolen goods, bribery, witness intimidation, theft, controlled substances, and occasionally murder," Roman replied deadpan. "As for our personal relationship, we've known each other for years. We went to prep school together, and our families have a long history together." 

So Cobblepot wasn’t lying about that, the conversation she had with him began to drift back into her mind. “Tell me about your family,"

His face darkened. "That's not up for discussion."

She looked away, the frustration was impossible to miss and after the day she’d had, and in a rare act of submission he offered up the following.

"We haven't spoken in years, I last saw them when I was twenty-one." he said tersely. "Now, let's talk about what happened at your apartment. What's the last thing you remember?”

She chewed on the seeds before spitting one into her hand, uncertain of what to do with it, 

“Eat the seeds angel, they're good for you. You can swallow them whole.” Roman took another bite of the pomegranate juice staining his lips, something she tried to ignore.

“He had a magazine with our picture in it,”

Roman smirked, “I saw it. Explains what got into you that night after the party,” He grinned, biting into the fruit again and licking his lips. 

“He was there when I got back, I didn’t even get the door shut all the way before I saw them, I went for the panel but it was disabled.” Roman nodded, “He said, he needed to talk to you about the docks and he thought I could get ahold of you. I called, a bunch,” she looked at him squarely in the eyes, “You didn’t pick up.”

“I’m sorry.” 

It couldn’t go more silent than it already was, and it soon became overbearing with how he looked nowhere other than her eyes, black on black. No hiding, no deflecting, no excuses. He apologized to her. She was stunned.

“It’s-it’s ok-”

“No, it's not.” He chewed a few more seeds, “It won’t happen again, if you call I come running, guns blazing. No questions asked.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, she was speechless. She just nodded in agreement, unsure of how to handle such sincerity. 

“Did he touch you?”

She thought back to her loft, aside from the hand patting a few times, the answer was a resounding no and she shuddered at the thought.

“Not really,” she rubbed her hands, “Patted my hands like a teacher or something.”

“He didn’t hurt you?” She shook her head and continued to rub at her hands trying to erase the memory. 

“I feel like I need a scalding hot shower,” 

Roman took her hand and pressed a surprisingly gentlemanly kiss to it, then her palm like he did whenever he visited her at work. It was a sweet gesture but it did little to counter the taste of apprehension that came with her next question. 

“What happened at the docks?”

Roman paused and seemed like he was weighing his options before replying. “Business.”

“I saw the guy's ear, Roman. You did that?” He gave her a hard look, not a cold or cruel one but it was like he was trying to decide something. “And you, bit a kid's ear back in high school?” He smirked.

“Only a little.” At the mere mentioning of the memory, Roman grinned a dark grin.

He seemed to have made up his mind about what to tell her because he handed her more fruit and began speaking again. 

“His men were trespassing on my territory, so I interrogated them.”

Interrogated. 

“You mean tortured.”

Now he wore no smile, just a strangely detached expression that communicated just, nothing. “I had to send a message. Cobblepot was responding in his own way, I don’t usually send men back alive once they've crossed me. It was a bit out of character.”

“Is he going to come back?”

“Not if he’s smart, he won’t.” He sighed and laid on his side, “But it doesn't mean we’re out of the woods yet, in fact, now that he knows how important you are to me things are only going to get harder.” She stayed quiet on that last note, “You’re not going home.”

She wanted to argue and he knew it, her lips went to form a reply but ultimately her brain caught up with her mouth, and she nodded. Understanding that his concerns had more to do with the practicality of the situation and less about his possessive tendencies.

“That's the third time I know of that a man has broken in, not sure how I’ll ever sleep there again.” 

“I had Zsasz make some calls to some shops for some things for you, I’m not going to have you wearing anything Cobblepot or his men might have touched.” 

There was such a venomous tone to his voice just then and it should have scared her, but after today, Roman seemed like the lesser of the two evils. And in a way, she understood where he had been coming from, she wasn’t sure she wanted to wear any of it either. She stopped eating and stared off into space, maybe thinking of all the things that had gone on in her apartment in her absence and she shuddered.

“Keep eating, angel.”

“Am I in danger?”

He didn’t answer right away, “Yes.” She already knew the answer, but somehow she just needed to hear it from him, maybe because if Roman took something seriously then somehow it was comforting because he didn’t fuck around. 

“Which is why things are going to change.” He suddenly became very serious and he sat up and reached forward to grasp her chin “You are never to leave my side, not even to that little bodega Ernies, no more mysterious motorcycle rides either. And don’t you ever pull a stunt like this again.”

“Don’t give me a reason to.” The expression ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you’ should have kept her silent but it didn’t, was she scared? Shitless. Did that make her spineless? Hell no.

“Angel, I don’t think you realize the gravity of our current situation. I came to your place in force with a dozen of my best-armed men and Cobblepot knows I’ll did it to protect you. My own men know that and let's just say they've never seen me hold a door open for a woman much less call up an armed assault. And I’ve certainly never carried an unconscious woman in my arms before.”

She started to smile but Roman's hard expression stopped her.  

“There's going to be doubts I’ll have to quiet, people questioning me and my effectiveness. I’m going to have to make some examples. Painful, messy ones. So you’re going ot have to put a bandaid on that bleeding heart of yours.”

“The rules of our agreement have to change.” Now she looked like she might fight him but he stopped her. 

“Never question me in front of any of my men. Ever. Don’t even talk back, nothing that might be construed as you having any sort of control over me, because if you do; I’m going to have to kill a lot of people to prove that you don’t.” 

That stopped her, she didn’t know Romans men or what kind of men they were but she didn’t want any more blood on her hands. 

“Things are going to get even more unsafe and more violent, which is why you can’t leave me, ever. Understand?”

When he said ‘you can’t leave me, ever,’ his voice did a funny thing, so subtle she almost missed it, there was the tiniest hint of pleading in his voice, like something desperate and quivering, then in an instant, it was gone. She nodded and looked to the ground briefly, only to be brought right back to Romans gaze by his grip on her chin, his thumb brushing her lip almost lovingly. 

“You have to listen to me.”

“I promise.”

“You're going to have to learn to look the other way or ask me far fewer questions. Understand?” She nodded, not liking the picture he was painting but also realizing there was little other choice.

"Roman, about today—" she started hesitantly, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

"Enough about that. I have a lead on your mother," he said, effectively changing the subject. “It’s going to take some finessing but I’ve got Zsasz on it and I’ll know more within the week,”

The mention of her mother made her heart skip a beat. Had he found her already? How? She didn’t care and his confession prompted her to all but crawl into his lap leaning in for a kiss. There was every chance he was just saying it to keep her nice and calm and pliant, he could very well have been lying, but it didn't make sense. Roman was very protective about his reputation as a fairly honest criminal so when he said he had a lead on her mother, she believed him.

He accepted her kiss with little resistance but he clearly wasn’t expecting it, allowing her to lead the way with slow and smoldering movements. Surprisingly, his lips were soft and gentle against hers contrasting with the dangerous aura he had previously exuded. 

But what surprised her even more was his docile behavior; he didn't try to take control or rush the pace. He seemed content to savor the pomegranate juice that lingered on her lips as they moved over his and her tongue dipped into his mouth.

Finally and with some effort, he pulled back from Belladonna’s almost feral advance, his voice a bit breathless and sounding like he was teetering on the edge of some invisible boundary, "Angel, doctor's orders," Roman reminded her as gently as he could manage. 

She remembered his warning from the week prior, when he said ‘no’ he meant it and it had been an uncomfortable lesson and experience, her fingers curled in his hair as she pressed herself against him for one last deep kiss. 

"I know I'm irresistible, but really, the doctor did say to rest," he teased. He held up more of the crimson fruit, “Keep eating.”

She took the seeds and sat back down. "Any more questions?" he asked. 

“What now?”

“Now? We’re moving in together.” She blanched and shot him a panicked look, “Relax kitten, just until I sort out your apartment situation.” 

“What's to sort out?

“Well security, obviously. And your place has been broken into four times, not three.” She looked like she was about to say something but he kept talking, “Need to sweep it for any listening devices or cameras that I didn’t put there before I let you go back.

“I knew it,” Roman winked at her.

“Until that's all settled, I’ll see to it you have anything you need, but for now, you stay here; where I know you’re safe.” 

His choice of words in saying ‘I know you’re safe’ as opposed to 'where I can keep an eye on you’ settled over her with an odd sense of finality and comfort.

“Might just have you stay here till I wrap things up with Jimmy though, got a few things in the works for that too.” 

What did he mean? Jimmy was dead, what sort of plans could he possibly have for a dead man? She started to speak but he placed his hand over her lips, “No, angel, not this. Can’t tell you this. It gives you plausible deniability.” 

How oddly considerate of him? She smirked, lightly pressing her lips to his fingertips. He promptly withdrew them, maybe doubting his ability to adhere to his own suggestion of following the doctor's orders of avoiding strenuous activity.

"Earlier, you told me I was replaceable," Belladonna reminded him, her tone challenging. Roman gave her a hard look, unwilling to discuss it further. "But you seem to be pulling all the stops out for me," she pushed.

"Angel, you haven't seen anything yet," he answered cryptically, his dark eyes promising protection, possession, and a future rife with uncertainty.

The room seemed to swallow them as Roman and Belladonna fell into a heavy silence, she didn’t feel the need to ask any further questions, or maybe because she just couldn’t think of any. 

"So who has pomegranates lying around instead of apples?" 

"Someone with refined taste. You should expand your palate, Belladonna. Pomegranates are considered the fruit of the gods.” She eyed him skeptically. “The pomegranate holds great significance. Some even believe it was a pomegranate, not an apple, that Eve ate in the Garden of Eden. And it was the pomegranate that Persephone ate to become the queen of the underworld in the love story of Hades and Persephone."

"Wait," Belladonna interjected, her brow furrowing. "You mean the pomegranate Hades forced her to eat after he kidnapped her?"

Roman tutted, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Belladonna, you're half-Greek; you should know your mythology better. There are theories that suggest Hades and Persephone had a passionate romance and she willingly went with him, just as much evidence as there is for his supposed kidnapping." There was an odd cheekiness to his expression, as though he was trying to make some coded reference.

He offered her another piece of the fruit, but she eyed it suspiciously. Roman smirked. 

"It's too late. You're already trapped in my underworld until the investigation is done. You may as well enjoy the food." 

It was fascinating how easily Roman could slip between personas - one moment the charming owner of Masquerade Noir, able to entertain and entice, and the next a cold-blooded criminal who had shown mercy by only cutting off a man's ear. The portrait of Roman lounging on his side on a luxurious bed, in a black shirt with a few buttons undone, black slacks, casually eating a pomegranate was quickly burning itself into her brain. He looked so normal.

"How did you know I'm hypoglycemic?"

Roman gave her a mysterious look, his eyes dark and unreadable raising his browns suggestively. "I have eyes everywhere."

"Like my bedroom?" 

"Especially in your bedroom," he replied smoothly. "How else would I know about that little purple toy of yours?"

His teasing was less annoying and now more charming in its own odd way, and whereas before she might have ignored it or gotten irritated, she opted to give it right back to him. 

“Guess, you didn’t find the big black one…”

Romans expression quickly fell and he didn’t look as amused as she was, but after he noted the upturn of her lips, he shook his head and finally answered her question.

"I did extensive research on you after we met. I know all about that fight with you and Olivia Danvers when you were sixteen and you’ve got one hell of a right hook.” Belladonna smirked a little bit at the memory. “It’s clear that you could have been valedictorian if not for that D on your senior chemistry final and your Spanish class, Eso no es bueno, ángel.” 

Roman knowing Spanish wasn’t surprising but then it kind of was, he wasn’t stupid, no, Roman had proved time and time again that he was highly intelligent. But it just seemed such a… frivolous thing, to speak another language, like, it was such a normal thing, for normal people. But she quickly reminded herself that was stupid. Belladonna herself was trilingual, adding Greek, Italian, and Latin to her repertoire. 

“I know how you switched majors halfway through college from business management to photography and graphic design even though you can’t really stand either one and I know all about the attack last year,” His tone dropped at the mention of her attack and he offered no particular insights on it. “But no one’s perfect, because despite how deep I dug, I somehow missed that little tidbit." Roman admitted with a hint of annoyance. "But Daisy clued me in after I sweet-talked it out of her."

Yeah, Daisy, that sounded about right. It wasn’t exactly privileged information, and she had no doubt there wasn’t much Roman couldn't sweet talk Daisy out of.

"I was diagnosed after the attack last year. It was hard to want to eat anything, didn’t sleep much." Belladonna said, "Guess I should thank you," 

His cocky demeanor returned in full force as sat up and he scooted closer, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “But how will you thank me?” 

“Don’t get cocky, you’re still in la casita del perro in my book, you’ll be lucky if you get another kiss.”

Roman chuckled, undeterred, seeing her challenge as an invitation. He closed the distance between them, his breath warm against her skin as he whispered seductively, “Oh, really?”

"I can be very persuasive. And it seems to be working." Their lips barely brushed, a tantalizing tease of what could be. "Admit it, you've wanted to kiss me since the moment I rode in on my dark horse, saving the day that night in the back of my club with Jimmy."

That was certainly one way to put their meeting, if not a little skewed, it almost sounded romantic, and she couldn't resist teasing him. With a playful smirk, she grabbed his chin and planted a simple kiss, it wasn’t what he wanted, she knew that but he’d already shut her down when she was practically climbing on top of him. 

"Is that all I get?" he asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"You'll get what I give you, and you'll like it.”

The door to the bedroom swung open and the scent of spicy Thai food quickly filled the air, mingling with the lingering tension between Roman and Belladonna. Zsasz strode into the room carrying takeout bags in both hands. He seemed to have returned faster than expected, much to Roman’s dismay, but then again, Zsasz was more often than not, more punctual than a Swiss watch. It also helped that he cut quite the intimidating figure and Belladonna wouldn’t have been surprised if people had jumped out of line upon seeing him.

“Cockblocked by the doctor's orders… and Thai food.” 

Roman grumbled, finally tearing his gaze away from Belladonna and taking the food from Zsasz. A flicker of warmth flashed across Zsasz's usually cold eyes as he handed over the bags to Roman. It was a brief, unexpected moment that caught Belladonna off guard. Then with a curt nod that carried an unusual ease to it, Zsasz took a bag and disappeared. Was she beginning to grow on him?

Roman settled back onto the bed and produced several takeout boxes with enticing aromas that could only come from a yāy’s soulful cooking. Bold spices, succulent roasted meats, and hints of coconut. He handed her one box filled with Thai green chicken curry and rice, and another containing papaya salad. To her surprise, there was even a small container of mango sticky rice for dessert. She didn't bother asking how he knew her favorite dishes; his answer would probably involve some vague explanation about being "all-knowing." 

As they ate, she watched Roman open his own container of Thai basil chicken, captivated by the movement of his jaw as he chewed, before drifting to Roman's strong hands, deftly maneuvering the chopsticks to pick up a piece of chicken. She had seen those same hands clenched in anger, and wrapped around a gun with deadly precision. Yet, here they were, sharing a simple meal together. Life was certainly dealing her some strange cards lately.

Here she was in Romans bed, after having briefly been held hostage in her own apartment, and being saved by her own knight on a dark horse, as he had dubbed himself. Eating Thai food, like any normal couple might, Roman lounging in a casual manner that Belladonna had never seen before using chopsticks like a pro. He seemed more like just a man eating Thai food with her than the dangerous figure she knew him to be.

"So, no Netflix?" 

"The beds for sleeping, not Netflix," Roman replied playfully, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You should be glad I'm letting you eat in my bed at all."

“You don’t ever eat in bed?

"No," he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I eat at a table like a civilized criminal." His tone was light, teasing even, and Belladonna couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh. Was he making an honest joke? No dark undertones? Guess there was a first for everything.

“The only thing that gets eaten in this bed is pussy.” There it was. He couldn’t let it go, but a sex joke was better than a dark one, she supposed.

Belladonna glanced down at her box, a vibrant array of colorful vegetables and steaming rice accompanying the spicy chicken that filled her senses with a mixture of comfort and warmth. She hesitated for a moment before looking up to meet Roman's unwavering gaze. The dim lighting of his bedroom cast shadows across his chiseled features, accentuating the intensity behind his dark eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever really know you," she admitted, her voice laced with vulnerability. It was a thought that had been gnawing at her ever since they'd gotten involved with each other – an unsettling feeling that there was always more beneath the surface. “You’re like a puzzle with no picture.”

A smug grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, I'm a puzzle, am I?" he asked, the playful tone in his voice belying the weight of her words. "How many pieces? I'm at least 10,000 pieces."

Belladonna couldn't help but smile at his lighthearted response, even as the unease continued to churn within her. As much as she wanted to believe that she could understand him, she knew deep down that there were aspects of his life that she never would.

"More like a Rubik's star cube," Belladonna countered, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she looked at Roman.

Roman raised an eyebrow, clearly appreciating the challenge. "Ah, one of those, huh? Well, I suppose that makes me even more intriguing."

"Alright, then," Roman said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "Why don't you ask me something? Anything you want. Consider it your first move in solving this puzzle."

"It’s all just games to you, isn’t it?"

"Trust me, angel. I never play games with what's mine," he replied, his gaze never wavering from hers.

"Yours?" she echoed, feeling both a sense of belonging and unease at his words.

"Undeniably," 

——

The concept of moonlight illuminating a sleeping lovers form while they slept was bullshit, stupid and cliche. So was the idea of longingly looking at them, as if moonlight was a magic highlighter that drew attention to all the details that you never noticed before. 

He always thought the moonlight at night thing only worked because the person you were looking at had finally shut up. He didn’t need the magic of a planet fragment reflecting light to draw his eye to Belladonna's hourglass form, he didn’t need it to draw his attention to the swell of her hips, the full lips he wanted to taste, that long black hair he wanted to use to direct her, or the curve of her breasts he wanted to touch. No, he could appreciate those things in broad daylight, the low light of his club or the artificial light of her studio while she worked. 

But that’s exactly what Roman was doing

Fuck it, the moonlight was doing its job, casting that magical soft glow on Belladonna's peaceful face as she slept. And Roman lay next to her, wide awake, his dark eyes studying her delicate features. It was the first time he'd ever allowed a woman to share his bed without sex being involved, and strangely enough, he found himself not minding much. People were interesting to watch when they slept, Belladonna, for instance, was lying on her side with one arm embracing her pillow and her knees slightly drawn up towards her chest. It wasn't quite the fetal position, but she wasn't sprawling out either, and Roman couldn't blame her. She didn’t sprawl out and take up more of the bed than she should, didn’t hog the blankets leaving him to freeze his ass off, and she wasn’t one of those types who tried to suffocate him by clinging to him like a lovesick teenager. 

That wasn’t Belladonna though. 

Roman's interests were about as varied as the weather, but he always found the way people slept to be fascinating. It was like a secret language they couldn’t help but speak. Belladonna's sleeping habits, in particular, caught his attention. They suggested she was guarded and lacked a sense of security or comfort.

As for Roman himself, he usually slept on his back with his arms at his sides. He didn’t move around much unless he was really stressed. Occasionally, he might flop onto his stomach and bury his head in the pillow, but that was rare. He didn’t like how exposed he felt sleeping on his stomach, even if it was comfy as hell.

As for Zsasz, well, he had never seen Zsasz sleep but he was fairly certain if Zsasz slept at all, he slept like a vampire and he hadn’t ruled out the possibility of a coffin.

The whole situation was an odd one for him. Sure he’d let women sleep in his bed but more often than not it was only because he was too tired to kick them out right away. He’d let them sleep and then send them on their way to that glorious walk of shame home, in the clothes they’d worn the night before, covered in the marks he’d left on them, both seen and unseen. And really, even if he was tired, he would have much rather they leave as soon as he was done with them. His only real motivating factor behind letting them stay was the possibility of a morning blowjob. What man didn’t love waking up and having his dick sucked before breakfast?

His late-night musings were interrupted by a quiet presence at the door, Zsasz lingered just outside the room, he gave Roman a nod and Roman slipped from the bed's warmth. 

"Got something."

Roman followed Zsasz to his study, where they reviewed the security footage from Belladonna's loft. The screen flickered to life, revealing Cobblepot's arrival and the entire conversation between him and Belladonna. Roman clenched his jaw, anger simmering beneath the surface. 

It was the first time he’d watched the footage and it was just as she’d said earlier and although it infuriated him, he had to admit; he’d never been more impressed by a woman. Her voice hardly shook but he could hear it, there were no tears and she wasn’t frantic when she put the phone down after a finally failed attempt at reaching Roman. His lip twitched in a sneer when he thought of how many times she’d tried calling him and how calm she’d been throughout the whole thing and in a rare moment, he felt like shit. 

He’d told her he’d take care of her so long as she was with him and he didn’t. In fact, he’d acted like some shithead teenager. It angered him but not as much as the moment Cobblepot offered a bullshit apology to Belladonna before directing one of his men to shoot her in the chest as opposed to the back of her head. Even still, she didn’t move, she didn’t cower, didn’t plead, didn’t cry. Nothing. 

Solid as a statue, only closing her eyes. He knew grown men who wouldn’t have handled having a gun pointed at them half as well as she had. 

"Reach out to Cobblepot's associates," he instructed Zsasz, his voice cold and controlled. As much as he didn’t like Cobblepot he wasn’t so stupid as to go on the warpath. "Set up a formal sit-down. No more surprise visits from him, I need to know how he's connected to all this and how Jimmy came to have his stuff if he didn’t work for him."

He didn’t much like Cobblepot but it would be idiotic to make him an enemy rather than a strained acquaintance. 

"Arrange for new security measures at her loft, after it’s been cleared," Roman ordered, dismissing Zsasz's unspoken concerns. "She'll stay with me until everything is in place. Did you call the shoppers?” Zsasz nodded, “Good, make sure she has whatever she needs."

As Roman contemplated their situation, he found himself recalling the myth of Hades and Persephone—a tale that seemed to mirror his own relationship with Belladonna. 

"Who is our Demeter?" he muttered, leaving Zsasz slightly confused, but not surprised. Roman often spoke in cryptic references that made sense only to him. 

"Been keeping tabs on her father like you asked. Doesn't seem like he's actively involved in any major schemes anymore. Looks like he's content living off the family fortune," Zsasz reported, his tone matter-of-fact. "But I found something interesting while I was looking into him.  Belladonna is the only heir to the family estate, assuming her father doesn’t blow it all. And he doesn’t seem too keen on her having much of it to herself based on the stipulations required for her to get access to her inheritance." Roman's interest piqued at the mention of Belladonna's wealth.

"She's entitled to half the estate according to her grandfather's will. However, her share is currently tied up due to certain conditions she hasn't fulfilled yet."

"What conditions?" Roman inquired, intrigued by the complexity of the situation.

"There are two options. Either her father passes away under circumstances deemed non-suspicious, and the inheritance is released once the investigation is concluded," Zsasz explained. 

Roman smirked, that could certainly be arranged.

"Or she ties the knot." Zsasz's voice held a hint of amusement. "In that case, the money essentially falls under her husband's control, to be distributed at his discretion."

Roman's eyes narrowed with disdain. "So her fortune hinges on marriage. How... quaint."

“Tale as old as time.”

“Pathetic.” Roman shook his head at the man's manipulations. "I'll pay him a visit soon enough. What about her mother, what did you find?"

"Maria Lopez," Zsasz announced, handing Roman a medical file. 

Roman pulled a confused face, that wasn’t her mothers’ name. It was Caruso, not Lopez. 

“She's tucked away in a top-tier facility in Metropolis, specifically tailored for clients grappling with significant trauma." Zsasz made air quotes around the term 'significant trauma,' his tone dripping with skepticism. 

“Why Metropolis?” Zsasz shrugged.

“Probably because it's not in Gotham. Makes her harder to find, especially if Belladonna was trying to keep a low profile.” 

Roman nodded for Zsasz to continue as he looked through Maria’s file. He didn’t ask Zsasz how he got ahold of privileged medical records; some things were better left unsaid. But based on what Roman was looking at, it was all doctored up and as authentic as a spring breakers driver's license.

"The alias is completely disconnected from anyone in Belladonna's family,”

“Who pays for it?” Roman asked, his voice low and tense as he looked at Maria's photograph, fixated on the sorrowful expression in her gaze. 

She looked nothing like the woman he had imagined; she appeared exhausted, fragile, and hollow inside, though the resemblance was striking. Belladonna got her looks from her mother, no doubt. He suddenly understood how bad of a situation Maria must have found herself in as a young immigrant worker to a man like Benjamin Syrus Black. The predatory nature of it disgusted him, her mother was sixteen when she’d become pregnant with Belladonna, barely a woman. Not even a woman by his standards. 

“A numbered bank account. Easy enough to set up, probably had a lawyer do it."

"So, no paper trail leading back to her old man. Jesus. No wonder Belladonna couldn't track her down," 

Roman remarked with a hint of disdain. The records spoke of years of physical trauma as well as several psychiatric conditions ranging from bipolar disorder to schizophrenia. He threw the file onto the table, sending papers scattering across the surface. 

“This reads like a dossier of Arkham's most dangerous inmates; bi-polar disorder, paranoid schizophrenia, dementia, dissociative identity disorder, psychotic depression, PTSD,” 

Roman looked back and forth from several documents but he seemed to be studying their headers, logos and signatures as much as he was reading the diagnosis and treatment history. It was a chaotic mess. 

“These diagnoses contradict each other. Bet money no one was paying attention when she was admitted." 

"Even if she somehow found her mother now, there's no way she could get her released, probably wouldn’t even be allowed to visit her."

Zsasz nodded grimly in agreement. "But on the bright side, this gives us leverage over whoever is treating her. If they want to keep this quiet, they won’t involve the police." A sly smile spread across Roman's face.

Roman smirked at Zsasz, “Maybe they just need a good scare.”

“Pain is scary,” Zsasz said with a smile.

"We'll need to take a trip to Metropolis soon. But before we do, make sure you dig up every detail possible on the doctors in charge of her care and anyone involved in her admission. I want it all. I won't tolerate any more surprises." 

Zsasz nodded, “Got it.”

“I’m going to bed.” His voice dripped with deadly intent as he tossed the file back onto the desk and turned, stalking off toward his bedroom.

Roman crawled back into his bed and looked over to the side he usually slept on, Belladonna had her back to him, she had rolled over in her sleep and he found himself staring at a scar on her back. Long and jagged, one that had taken over thirty sutures to close, his lip curled up when he thought about how it got there. The tip of his finger had barely brushed against her skin when she turned over and curled closer to him, not close enough to nestle in his arms but close enough he could leisurely touch her, his hand slipped from her shoulder down the curve of her side before settling on her hip. She made a little noise of contentment and scooted a bit closer. Stans words to him played over in his head as sleepiness began to gently tug at him.

“She could be good for, Roman,”

Roman just smirked, shook his head then pulled his hand away and folded his pillow over, eventually drifting off to sleep.

—-

Belladonna slowly blinked awake, the cool space beside her a stark contrast to the warmth she craved. This time, when she woke up in Roman’s bed she felt no panic, in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well. Sure, she wouldn’t have minded staying in bed, rolling over, and going back to sleep but the sunlight streaming in from the window made that hard. She sat up and stretched, disentangling the sheets that had twisted around her legs, searching the room for any trace of Roman.

The faint sound of running water drew her towards the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar. With careful steps, she approached, peeking inside to find Roman at the sink. He stood tall, only a black towel wrapped around his waist, traces of shaving cream on his jawline as he focused on his steam-framed reflection.

She held her breath, captivated by the oddly domestic sight of Roman. Despite their closeness, she had never seen him so undressed, always shrouded in mystery and tailored suits. His broad muscular back bore was a blank canvas, surprisingly devoid of tattoos, she hadn’t exactly expected any as they didn't seem like they fit his personality. She only saw maybe two faded scars, one looked like a knife wound and another maybe a bullet, he certainly wasn’t covered in them like Zsasz was. She couldn't help but let her gaze linger on the edge of the towel, if only he wasn’t so paranoid...

"Roman had me get some things for you for work," Zsasz's voice broke the moment as he entered with a garment bag. Startled, Belladonna jumped with a startled gasp and stepped back, feeling a flush of embarrassment. But it was too late, when she changed a glance over her shoulder Roman met her gaze with a smirk and a freshly shaven face. 

A knowing grin playing on his lips. Her heart quickened, realizing she had been caught off guard, a rarity she tried to avoid.

“Time for work angel,”

Fifteen

---

Little R&R Roman style? I know, I'm a tease... Sorry guys, stay tuned the spice is coming soon...!

@keffirinne @daenerys-skywalker @supernatural-lover

#fanfiction is life #i have too many stories #original character #alternate universe #roman sionis smut #roman sionis imagine #romansionis #roman sionis fan fiction #roman sionis x original female character #roman sionis #black mask #black mask imagine #romansionissmut #romansionisimagine #romansionisblackmask #romansionisfanfiction #blackmaskimagine #black mask fanfiction #belladonna fucking black #belladonna black #shadows of deception #blackmasksmut #blackmaskfanfiction #dc #dc fandom #dc birds of prey #dc comics #dc universe

[pastel-paramour]

Mutually Assured Attachment

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.9k Tags/Content Warnings: SKK x F!Reader, Dom!Dazai, Sub!Chuuya, Sub!Reader, Voyeurism, Brief Alcohol Consumption, Brief Smoking, gun play, knife play, edging/teasing, Oral (F & M Receiving), Overstim, Gagging, Begging, Shotgunning (Smoke, Fluid) Okay... Here we go... First original post. I'm considering additional parts exploring this strange little... dynamic these silly little men have with you. Mind the tags, and away we go!

The two of you fell tangled through the door, your collar bunched in Chuuya’s fists. He kicked the door with his heel, and the resounding slam shook you loose of his lips with a breathless chuckle.

“Shhhhh! Chuuya! Someone’ll catch us!” You scolded in a stage whisper.

He leaned over you, hands roaming freely over your breasts, your ribs, your waist, your hips, all the way down to give your ass a hard squeeze, pulling you against him, his already hard cock straining against your thigh.

“Like I give a damn.” He says against your smiling lips, quickly arrested in a kiss.

You ran your hands over his shoulders as he shrugged out of his coat, and the two of you waltzed backward into the room in a clumsy tango. When you collided against the far wall, you managed to pry your body apart from his enough to get your fingers around his belt. The buckle yielded with an affirmative clink, his zipper following suit soon after. Your own remained untouched at the side seam of your skirt, Chuuya instead opting to hike the crisp black fabric up wholesale to get his access to your aching pussy.

You slung your leg over his hip and traced unintelligible patterns into the neatly starched fabric of his rapidly disheveling waistcoat. He palmed your breast, and your head thumped against the wall while he ground into you, teeth and tongue working your neck.

“Well, well, well…”

Your heart seized in your chest, Chuuya’s eyes went wide as he whirled around, fixing his fly but otherwise leaving his belt undone, “Dazai!”

Indeed, in the shadow of the doorway loomed Dazai, moonlight glinting copper in his eyes, a light smile curling his lips. You pulled your skirt down to cover yourself.

“Fraternizing between colleagues? And an executive, no less…” He tutted, “You darling, I can understand, but Chuuya… You should know better.” He brought his hand to his face, like his voice, dripping with drama.

You shrank into yourself as Dazai crossed the room. Chuuya, on the other hand, only scowled, untucked his cigarette case from his breast pocket, and took one between his lips. Dazai’s face darkened, and before Chuuya could even put away his lighter, Dazai had snatched the cigarette from his lips.

“Hey!”

“It’s rude to smoke in front of a lady.” He scolded. Only, he didn’t put it out or discard it. Instead, he took it between his own lips. The ember glowed cherry in the dark as he took a long drag and held it, snuffing the rest in an ashtray on the dresser. Dazai hooked a finger beneath Chuuya’s choker, his other hand taking his jaw. If you hadn’t known better, you would have believed Chuuya’s eyes softened, even glazed just a bit, as Dazai pulled his face to meet his; lips just shy of touching, before exhaling a rolling cloud of smoke onto his waiting tongue. Dazai’s hooked finger tugged firmly down, down, down until Chuuya sank to his knees, Dazai towering over him.

You twisted your legs together. You had never seen this side to Chuuya before. He looked completely lost to the world, but Dazai never let an eye off you.

“Like what you see, Darling?” he smirked.

Your face flushed, and you averted your eyes in a vain attempt to save face.

“Don’t be ashamed, sweetness, I’ve learned you can get Chuuya to do all kinds of amazing things.”

“Fuck you, Dazai…” Chuuya panted.

“Ohh..” Dazai whined in mock pity, and took Chuuya’s face in his hand again, “We’re getting to that. Now-”

He released all hold on Chuuya, and turned his attention to you, sweeping up your hand in his “Sweet Belladonna…” a kiss that was anything but chaste pressed to each knuckle, “Would you like me to show you his true potential?”

You were flabbergasted, quite honestly too stunned to speak. Here was Dazai, Osamu Dazai, who somehow waltzed into this room and the entire world bent around him, even, most astonishingly, Chuuya.

He huffed a small laugh at your silence, and took the initiative once again, pulling you against his chest.

“First of all, let’s put this back where it was…” His fingertips skimmed along the hem of your skirt, goosebumps raced along your thighs as he pulled the fabric up over your hips and ass. In his wanderings, his hands glanced along the delicate lace of your panties. Feigned shock lighted his face.

“Very nice…” He teased, flicking his thumb beneath the elastic. You squealed at the snap against your skin, but still you didn’t push him away. He squared his hands on your hips and turned you around to face Chuuya, who’s blue eyes shone silver to Dazai’s copper, flashing dangerously as he took in your body, and Dazai’s hands upon it.

“Then…” Dazai continued, pulling you backwards until his knees collided with the mattress. He pulled you both down so you were seated between his legs, back pressed against him. Before you knew it, his mouth was at the shell of your ear, chasing chills down your spine.

“Now here is where it gets very interesting…”

Chuuya’s eyes tracked Dazai’s bandaged hands from your hips, down your thighs, to the bend in your knees. He hooked his fingers featherlight beneath them, and pulled them apart, exposing your thinly clad cunt to the cool night air. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him, eyes glazed but trained so intently on the apex of your thighs, not daring to come closer, despite so desperately wanting to.

A cool touch picked up your right hand, laying it palm up in his;

“And this is where you say-” He curled his fingers, and yours with them, “‘Come, Chuuya…’”

Chuuya, coming vaguely to his senses, sucked his teeth and moved to rise.

“Ah, ah, ah…” You gasped as Dazai hummed the warning against your ear and released your hand only to point downwards.

He cut a withering glare at Dazai, but in time, Chuuya sank back to his knees and crawled across the floor to his place between your feet, gazing expectantly up at you.

“Now you say, ‘very good, Chuuya’...”

Much to your surprise, Chuuya, Chuuya Nakahara pouted.

“I don’t want to hear that from you…” He muttered.

Dazai only chuckled before he turned back to you, “And now what do you suppose you say, hmmm?”

Your heart raced in your chest, the wind thoroughly knocked out of you when you spoke, “Please?”

If he only chuckled before, his shoulders now shook with laughter, “No, no, Bella…” He brushed his knuckles softly against your cheek, “You are the boss, now. You ask for nothing.” He whispered, casting a sidelong glance at a scowling Chuuya; “Say ‘thank you’, Chuuya.”

Dazai’s hands hooked your legs again, and pulled them further apart. Chuuya was able to quickly shake off his glare as he shuffled forward and pressed his face to the lacey apex of your thighs. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply, loosing a shuddering breath before he raised his hands and paused.

He appeared to gnaw his cheek for a moment, a light flush dusting his cheeks. Dazai said nothing.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, worried you had erred somehow.

“I want-” he started, only to reconsider his words, “May I… take off my gloves?” He finished, eyes sidecast and fixed firmly to the floor.

You looked at Dazai for assistance, only for him to shrug and nod back to Chuuya.

“You… may…”

He slowly, deliberately rolled each glove off, one after the other before he returned to his task. He skated his newly bare fingers over your ankles, your calves, over your knees and around your thighs before lighting so gingerly on the soaked through fabric covering your cunt. His thumbs kneaded the flesh, glancing agonizingly close to your clit, and drawing some oh so necessary friction over it.

At length, he hooked a thumb over the lace barrier, and pulled it to the side. Cold air lapped at you, as Chuuya drew a long exhale over your center. His eyes flicked up to you again to see you worrying over your lip, and that damn Dazai looking so fucking smug, before he let his tongue peek out over his lips, closing them over your clit.

You gasped, your back arched away from Dazai but he held you firm against him while Chuuya lapped at your clit, drew circuits and figure eights around your lips, your entrance and back. The sweet sounds of your sticky pussy and gasping breath echoed into the night. It wasn’t long until your head rolled back to rest on Dazai’s shoulder, which he allowed himself to take some advantage of by sparing playful nibbles on your neck while he skirted his way up to cup your breasts, his cock granite hard and twitching against your back while Chuuya eddied you torturously closer to orgasm.

“Hmmm, you two are lucky I caught up to you when I did…” He mused idly, his hand relinquishing your breast to reach between you two to adjust himself.

“After all, if anyone else had found two people sneaking around a secure area like this, they might get a little nervous…” You dismissed his rambling, too lost in bucking your hips to grind on Chuuya’s tongue.

“And you know, some folks here, they can get a little…” You stilled as the cool edge of metal pressed to your temple, “trigger happy.”

Chuuya’s eyes flashed wide, “What the fuck, Dazai!”

“Oh hush, Chuuya.” Dazai chastised, free fingers flying out to entwine in autumn tresses, yanking his face back to your twitching cunt. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full. Besides… I think she likes it, don’t you, belladonna? Oh come on, say you do?” He pleaded.

Your attention fractured, split between Chuuya’s tentative licks at your most sensitive spots, eyes still trained on the gun to your head, and, well, then there was that…

“Ah, I see…” He hummed, removing the offending article, but before you could relax completely, you heard the hammer click back and saw the barrel extend out in front of you.

“Say you like it, or I’ll make him stop.” He said icily against your ear.

All at once, you were a whirlwind of feeling, your gut dropped, your heart thrummed, but still your cunt tightened as Chuuya continued haphazardly servicing your slit.

“O-okay!” You yelp, “I do! I like it, Dazai!”

Just then, without knowing what combination of the circumstances in which you found yourself led to this, your entire body seized up around Chuuya’s tongue. Your legs clamped over his ears and drew him impossibly closer to you until he could do little more than suck your keening clit until your muscles shook and ached with effort.

This seemed satisfactory to Dazai, because quickly thereafter the pistol disappeared from your field of view.

“Wow…” He purred, you could feel his smile curl against your skin as you gasped for breath, “I was only foolin’, but I think you really did like it… Ha! And they call me sick…” His arms wound around your shoulders and your waist while he nuzzled your neck.

Chuuya rested his hands on your thighs and scowled up at Dazai, “You knew, didn’t you?”

Dazai had the nerve to look hurt at the accusation, “And lucky I did, too!” He said, lithely dismounting from the bed to meander to the dresser behind Chuuya, “You two are hopeless when it comes to discretion.” Dazai busied himself with the decanter which glistered crystalline in the moonlight.

“You should really be thanking me…”

Chuuya whirled at that, “Thanking you?! For what?”

Dazai chuckled darkly, “Oh, you will…” His voice was low with an edge to it that seemed to hush even Chuuya into a cautious, but expectant silence.

Dazai’s heels click… click… clicked against the floor, decanter in hand. He stopped in front of Chuuya whose lips were still slick with you, and uncorked the decanter with a squeaking pop. A crooked finger beneath Chuuya’s chin raised his gaze up to Dazai.

“For you…” The one and only warning Chuuya received before the dark liquor came waterfalling out of the crystalware, dribbling into Chuuya’s mouth gracelessly. He spluttered and coughed at the burning liquid invading his throat, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away what had escaped out the sides of his mouth and down his chin.

No sooner than he could breathe again, Chuuya found his chin once again hooked over Dazai’s knuckle. Another cutting glare until he spoke again;

“For her…” He canted the bottle in your direction, this time pressing his thumb to Chuuya’s bottom lip as an instruction to open.

The amber liquid flowed into Chuuya’s mouth again, this time with more decorum. Just shy of exceeding the amount that Chuuya could hold in his mouth, Dazai halted the flow and capped the decanter, gesturing once again toward you, before turning away to replace the bottle on the table.

You watched Chuuya, knowing better than he had before, crawl his way up your body. He used one arm to hike your leg over his hip, and his free hand to press you reverently into the mattress. Once there, he caged you in on either side, with his thumb he swiped away an errant curl from your face, before stooping low as though for a kiss.

When you opened your lips to grant him passage, warm, golden liquid spilled from his mouth to yours. It scalded the back of your throat as you drank it down, gulp by gulp, until your lips parted, a shining thread still connecting the two of you.

“Chuuya…” you cooed, pitching your hips up to even just graze his weeping erection. He hissed, and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“The fuck are you doing to me, doll…”

In the distance, you heard a cheerful hum, something to the tune of ‘Memory’.

Chuuya heaved a long-suffering sigh, then busied himself with gnawing at your neck. You reached between you, once again flicking open the button of his pants, slowly undoing his fly, and reaching in to palm his wrought iron cock, to the response of a breathy groan against your neck as he ground into the touch.

“Please, Chuuya… Need you so bad…” Damn what Dazai says, you thought, you two know yourselves better than he does, right?

Chuuya wasted no time shuffling his pants down enough for his cock to spring free. He laid it against your still dripping cunt, hot like a brand. One thing that was different with Dazai here, Chuuya never loved you this slowly before. He thrust against you, relishing the friction once, twice, and on the third stroke he sank himself into your waiting heat. Your pussy sucked him greedily in, which knocked the wind right from his lungs.

He pushed himself off the mattress to look at you, arms and shoulders trembling with effort as he took you in. He pressed into you again, and again, and again. Eventually, he captured your lips in a hungry kiss, tongue skimming the roof of your mouth, melding with yours, before sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. In one movement, he snatched up your wrists in either hand, pinning them to the mattress as he bullied into your cunt over and over.

His grip tightened around your wrists, vicelike, bruising.

“Ch-Chuuya!” you stammered around his thrusting cock, “You’re h-hurting me!”

“Don’t. Stop.” Dazai commanded, unseen.

And like he had no other choice, Chuuya slammed into you like a crashing tide, pinning you to the bed as he loomed over you, sweat slicked, panting and animal.

Soon, like you had no other choice, your legs snapped around him, your breath came ragged and whining as he ground you down into his shape, made to receive only him.

“M’gonna…” He gritted through his teeth.

“Yeah” You agreed, the feeling of your own release ricocheting off him.

His face once again sunk down to your shoulder, and a loud groan fell from his lips as he peaked shortly after you. Your breaths mingled, and at length the two of you relaxed into each other.

Before you could fully recover, the sound of a slow applause resounded about the room.

“Very nice…” Dazai crooned.

Much to your chagrin, Chuuya rolled off of you to look Dazai in the face, but Dazai wasn’t  looking at Chuuya. He was looking at you.

“You put on a good show, Bella… Come, sit in my lap.” He said, patting his thigh softly as he reclined in the ornate chair he had pulled from beneath the window.

You sat up, skirt pushed well over your waist, and moved to stand. Chuuya’s hand captured your wrist,

“You don’t have to do what he says…” He tells you.

“Why don’t you let her decide that, Chuu-ya?” Dazai sing-songed from his seat.

“It’s okay, Chuuya…” You whispered, smiling blearily before turning to meet Dazai.

You’d only gotten within arms reach before he snatched up your arm and spun you around, “Yeah, it’s okay, isn’t it Chuuya?” He called, mocking, before raising you wrist to inspect it.

“I swear to god, if you hurt her, Dazai…”

“What, like I’d hurt you, Chuuya?” He smirked against the blossoming bruise on your skin, “I think you’ve got that well in hand, don’t you.”

Chuuya blushed, actually blushed as Dazai pressed light kisses against your skin.

“I think it’s high time these came off…” He continued, unzipping your skirt, and pulling it with your panties unceremoniously to the floor. Left exposed, you tried to pinch your legs together just out of sheer embarrassment, as though you hadn’t just been licked and fucked within an inch of your life while a most unexpected guest watched. Behind you, Dazai tutted again.

“No no, sweetness, that won’t do… Can’t hide how beautiful you are, now can we?” He chided, before he shoved his leg between yours, both forcing them apart and throwing you off balance until you straddled his thigh.

Dazai pushed up on the ball of his foot to grind his knee into your clit. You tossed your head back with a gasp as he wound his arms about your middle like a python, pulling you hard against him, so he could nuzzle the hollow of your ear.

“Hasty, isn’t he?” he purred. You only whined as you tried to cant your hips into his thigh to feel just an ounce of friction again.

“Some people just don’t know…” long fingers trailed over each of your buttons until your now rumpled dress shirt fell open, “how good slow can be…”

He deftly undid the clasp of your bra and slid both articles off your shoulders, The night air  raised goosebumps over your whole body. Even colder hands skated up your tummy to pluck at your purled nipples while Chuuya watched, your gasps and whining moans rousing his cock each passing second.

“Oh how I’d tease him to tears…” He recalled. “I could do that for you, if you’d like…”

One set of fingers trailed down, down, down just where you’d need them to be. They pet at your clit, swirling featherlight over it. The nerves there sang, pitch driving higher and higher until just as you’re about to reach the zenith.

Smack.

You yelped as a cold hand landed a sharp slap over your cunt. Again, he toyed with you, playing with your nipples, nibbling your neck and ears, thumbing over your clit until you’re just about to cum, and…

Smack.

The aftershock of your denied release rolled through you, your muscles tensed and ached and rebelled, choking a strained groan from your throat.

“Oh, what’s the matter, Belladonna?” He cooed, his iron grip around your middle barring you from the delicious friction of his thigh, your impatient grunts and whining availing nothing to you.

“Such a greedy little thing…” He continued, “Already two orgasms from Chuuya, and you want another from me?” He chuckled as you whined and struggled against him, meanwhile Chuuya sank off the bed onto the floor to watch you, pale fingers raking desperately through velvet tresses in a feeble effort to contain himself.

“Oh darling, you’ll have to work for that.” He kissed the hollow behind your ear, “Go on, pretty, give him a show…” He said, both hands dropping to your hips, canting them forward until your clit rubbed sweetly against his trousers. You shuddered and groaned, and he pitched your hips back to start again.

After a few strokes, you found your own rhythm grinding against his thigh. You unclasped your hands in favor of supporting yourself on Dazai’s knee, heavily lidded eyes lighting on Chuuya, cunt twitching at the far-off look he had watching you work yourself up.

“Isn’t she pretty, Chuuya?” you heard.

“Mm…” He murmured in dazed reply.

You couldn’t see the way Dazai rolled his eyes behind you, before tucking into his jacket and pulling out a thin blade of shining metal. Some of the light came back into Chuuya’s eyes.

“I said…” Long fingers knotted through the hair at the nape of your neck, and forced you to look skyward, “Isn’t she pretty?”

You yelped again, and where you had previously been aching, burning, like your skin was too tight to contain your body, cold metal prickled your skin.

“You should really be more careful where you keep these, Chuuya… I know you like to keep them…” You hissed as the cutting edge of the blade bit into the delicate skin of your neck. “...sharp.”

“Dazai, you fucker, I’ll-!” Chuuya did his best to scramble to his feet, only to be met with a booted heel to his shoulder.

“You’ll what?” Dazai said darkly, more of a challenge than a question. WIth barely more than a glance, he directed Chuuya’s attention to where you met his thigh. You were soaked, pussy positively drooling over Dazai’s thigh if the rapidly spreading dark spot was anything to go by.

Dazai’s lips quirked up as he, in time, removed the knife, pressing the tip against his tongue before taking the whole blade end into his mouth, pulling it out clean.

“You found a real freak, Chuuya…” He licked a long stripe along your neck to clear the dribbling blood from your cut, “Maybe I’ll keep her…” He grinned, winding his arms tightly around you again.

Chuuya opened his mouth to reply, but was soon interrupted.

“D-Dazai…” You whined.

“Hmmm?”

“Wanna… cum…” You panted in his ear. Your body ached with need, your legs trembled you could have climaxed just from the rolling chuckle he lilted into your ear.

“Of course you do, sweet thing.” He said with a kiss against your jaw, free hand tucking some hair behind your ear.

Your eyes flew open when those fingers twisted in your hair again, forcing you down to your knees as he stood without warning.

“However, I hardly think that’s fair, considering poor Chuuya has worked so hard to make you feel good, and you’ve done next to nothing!”

You winced away from his grip against your scalp, but he held firm as he crouched to speak in your ear again,

“Perhaps if you try returning the favor, maybe I’ll consider it.” He spat venomously, letting go of your hair, and disappearing from your sight.

Despite the scathing words, your mind swam on a numbing sea, leaving you with no thoughts outside of the humming in your blood and the ache between your legs.

Your skin sparked at the sensation of a ridged leather sole between your shoulder blades, forcing you forward into a near kowtow between Chuuya’s knees.

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” He hissed. “Suck.”

You sighed as though in relief, like you were granted a great boon, and leapt forward to take his flushed cock in hand.

Your eyes swam up to meet his, just as bewildered and mystified as your own as he watched your tongue loll from your mouth, and lick a white hot stripe up the underside of his cock. His surprised moan tumbled from his lips as he carded his fingers through your hair, gentle and delicate compared to Dazai’s biting grip.

Chills raced up and down your back as he swept up your cascading curls into his fist while you took him from tip to base into your throat. Eyes fixed on his face, so pretty in the white gold light filtering through the window, you swallowed around his dick. He hissed sharply and another groan choked forth from his throat.

“Oh, you can do better than that.” Dazai chided, the last thing you heard before a second hand forced you further down his cock. Chuuya threw his head back with a strangled gasp as you gagged around him, tears rolling down your cheeks. You planted your hands to either side of Chuuya’s hips, thumbs fisted in your palms while you struggled to take him all.

“Dazai…” Chuuya breathed, “please…” 

Dazai only hummed in reply, twirling his russet hair between his fingers as Chuuya yielded himself to the sensation of you, kicking his feet and bucking into your throat until white ribbons painted the inside of your mouth.

“Don’t waste it, Bella…”

And you didn’t, wouldn’t dare, swallowing every drop of what Chuuya had to give until Dazai let you off his cock, spluttering, coughing and gasping through your spit slick lips. When you started to catch your breath, a cold hand cupped your chin and pulled you to look into deep dark eyes.

“You’ve done very well, sweetness.” A wan smile painted your lips at his praise, “I think she’s earned her reward, don’t you, Chuuya?” Chuuya said nothing while Dazai trailed a hand between your legs to pinch your clit, eliciting another wanton moan from your lips, which devolved into one of protest when Dazai removed his hand. You weren’t sure how much more teasing you could take.

Dazai , however, quickly dismissed your concerns, “Go on, take your prize then.” He said, glancing once down to Chuuya. Your gaze flitted from him, back to Dazai, and then hungrily back to Chuuya again as you clambered up his body and positioned yourself over his hips.

“Wait…” He slurred, propping himself up onto one elbow, “Hold on a sec- ah!” Chuuya keened as you slotted him at your dripping slit, and rode slowly over him, feeling him growing hard beneath you, spreading delicious warmth over your needy clit.

“Baby…” he pleaded, “I can’t…”

“He can.” Dazai assured.

You threw your arms around Chuuya’s neck, your breasts pressed to his chest. You couldn’t help but marvel at him, flushed, panting, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, yet another one of his facets that Dazai’s chosen to reveal to you tonight. When his hazy eyes landed on yours, polished with tears, alcohol, the moment, you found your mouth landing on his, swallowing his moans, sucking on his tongue as you ground in circles on his cock.

His hands flew to your hips, slender fingers gripping the fat of your ass, pulling you on top of him. He tried to hold you still, but the more you wound around him, the less control he had over his hips pistoning in and out of you, a chorus unbridled moans tumbling from his kiss-bitten lips.

In the end, you collided in ribbons of color, your body overwound and his undone, and you both came with trembling gasps as you held tightly to one another, a sheen of sweat setting your skin aglow.

“Perfect.” Dazai whispered.

From where he was standing, you couldn’t tell if he was looking at you or at Chuuya. Maybe both, maybe it didn’t matter. When you heard the echo of Dazai’s footsteps, you shook yourself out of your suspension.

“W-wait!” You called hoarsly. He stopped. Chuuya’s arms wound around your waist to hold you to him, but still you reached for Dazai;

“What about you?”

He tossed a look over his shoulder, an exasperated smile playing on his lips before he turned back on his heel and crouched in front of you.

“And what about me, Belladonna? Hmm?” A long finger idled with a strand of your hair, caressed your cheek.

“You- I mean… You didn’t…” Why were you suddenly so embarrassed? Like he didn’t just watch you and Chuuya come apart in his hands, taken apart like instruments, only he wasn’t the player here, he was the conductor, directing the tempo, crescendos and arpeggios into a beautiful symphony. A perfect masterpiece.

Dazai smiled wistfully at you, a touch of sincerity opening up on his face, in his eyes. He took your chin between his fingers, and pressed a lingering, chaste kiss to your lips.

“Something to look forward to.” He smirked, and took his hand over to Chuuya to tuck a stray lock behind his ear, before returning to his exit, sans encore.

“Dazai…” Chuuya grumbled, but before he could get another word out, Dazai spoke, a finger to his lips and a mischievous glint in his eye;

“Don’t worry, Chuuya… Your secret is safe with me.”

And with a wink, he was gone, the echo of his statement sounding more like a threat than a promise.

#these men have a chokehold on me #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #soukoku #chuuya x reader #dazai x chuuya #chuuya x you #dazai x you #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #skk x reader #paramour writes

[nevernonline]

✧.* grow as we go; svt smau.

entry #12 stolen heart. 

synopsis: over the past ten years you’ve fallen in love many times. one day someone happens to stumble across your journal sitting out on your nightstand and started posting your entries online. after all of your secrets are leaked it’s clear things would ever be the same again.

𐦍 paring: svt members x afab! reader.

𐦍 feat: non-idol! svt

𐦍 genre/s: reader is super angsty low-key, fluffy, sexual themes.

𐦍 content: swearing, bullying, crazy ex’s, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

masterlist ▸ 010 devil in disguise ▸ 013 coming soon.

note: my beautiful bbgs hi!! sorry my update took so long my dumb ass had to have some r&r for my ankle bc I hurt it skiing lmao (we good) but pls enjoy and thank you always for how much fucking love you all have for this story it makes me SO happy I live for loving drama with all of u sm!! they'll probably be like... 7ish more parts and we will be on to the next which is maybe going to be inspired by little black book which is an iconic film with brit murphy so pls vote and lmk who you'd want to see as the main bitch!!

taglist:  @sun-daddy-yoriichi,@hipsdofangirl@kissesfrmwonwoo, @minhui896, @wonwooz1, porridgesblog,,  jasssy051, @soonyoungblr, @saucegirlreads, @musingsofananxiouspotato, @young-adult-summer, @punkhazardlaw, @bibs-world@the-swageyama-tobiyolo@wonuulvr@woozixo@k-drama-adict@90s-belladonna@blaycke@dnylwoo@to-mi-yo

#❃ - duffytalks #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen headcanons #seventeen x reader #svt reactions #seventeen imagines #svt fic #svt texts #seventeen smau #svt smau #seventeen fic #svt x reader #svt x oc #svt x you #svt x y/n #seventeen x oc #seventeen au #svt au #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt sns #seventeen text au #seventeen texts #svtcreations #svt fanfic #svt scenarios #seventeen social media au #seventeen sns #smau series

[darklydeliciousdesires]

La Dolce Vita - John Shelby/Cosima Changretta (OFC).

So, I decided to begin this new little series of mine, besties. It shan't be delivered in regular chapter form, but a series of one-shot parts that will tell the story of John and Cosima's marriage, beginning from their wedding day. I hope you enjoy it :)

Words - 3,682

Warnings - Each part will be adult only content, from swearing to eventual smut and violence. Minors DNI.

Part I - Inferno

The blood of a thousand men could stain a thousand streets, cold, hard warfare spinning out of control in a haze of spatter and gunpowder, yet sometimes all it took was the presence of a woman to end it all. 

And it had.  

It didn’t mean the woman in question had to like it, though. 

“No.” The word fell from his lips with mild irritation as he took in the sight before him. “You will not wear black.” 

Cosima didn’t even attempt to hide her distain. “Why not? This is a death, after all.” 

Luca couldn’t help but feel entertained by her words, even though she was rapidly whittling him down to his very last nerve. “You are so dramatic, la mia sorellina.” She always had been. “It’s about time you were somebody’s wife, and you will make a good wife, too. Every man betrothed to an Italian woman should recognise how damned lucky he is.”  

“And me?” Her cadence rose sharply, her voice bordering on shrill. “What about me, Luca?” 

9:23am and already, he wished he’d had the sense to bring some aspirin with him. “You will do as you are told, Sima. And wear white while you do it.”  

The silky drawl of her brother never rose beyond the smooth hush he spoke with, but his words packed the same punch as they would have had he yelled them. He was also the only person alive who she allowed to shorten her name. People had called her Cos in school, swiftly ending up with a slapped face for it. Her Italian fire had been lit pretty much since the day she’d been born. “I wish I’d brought mama with me now.” 

His lip curled, a soft rumble of a laugh echoing his throat, sucking on the matchstick he pulled from between his lips as he pointed it at her. “We both know why you didn’t.” 

“Yes,” she chirped, admiring her reflection in the mirror, “you’re paying.”  

Again, she prompted his smile. Few did, really, save Anna Maria, his wife, as well as his sons, Joey and Guiseppe. “I am, cara mia. Listen, if you want the black dress, I’ll buy it for you. You won’t be married in it, though. Imagine if mama was here, eh? She’d be, ah, much more vocal than I about it.” 

This was true. Audrey would have taken over rather than sitting quietly like Luca. “I’m beginning to think she’d fuss much less than you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Try on the next dress, for the love of god.”  

Huffing and cussing in their native tongue, Cosima flounced back behind the privacy screen, getting herself out of the dress, the nearby assistant helping her into the white lace gown. Her face was a picture of utter contempt upon emerging, raising her middle finger when Luca quietly applauded her appearance. 

“Perfect.” 

“I fucking hate it,” she sneered, the assistant’s eyes bulging a little at her coarse language. 

“Cosima, you would hate even the most exquisite of gowns, crafted by the finest of designers,” he pointed out, standing and walking to her slowly. He reached beneath her chin, raising it up, placing a little kiss upon her forehead. “You look beautiful. La belladonna. It is done.”  

His word was final, and she knew this well. It did not mean she had to be quiet or graceful in her compliance, though. Being wed to a Shelby, after all they had done, the war that had seen the deaths of both her treasured brother and beloved papa, was not a fate she relished in.  

Negotiations in order to cease the bloodshed and forge ahead in a new bond, running Shelby gin into New York with the assistance of her family and their connections had been sealed by a proposed joining of their families through marriage. Her marriage, to John Shelby.  

How she had screamed and complained when Luca had informed her of this truce sealing union. Glasses and ornaments had been smashed in tempestuous fury, Cosima’s ire reaching the kind of decibels that had taken Luca and Audrey much effort and nips of gin to quieten, the youngest of the Changretta clan storming from her mother’s home, walking the streets, chain smoking in blind fury.  

The only silver lining? At least Luca had not decreed that she marry the man who had killed her father, not that she actually could. For his sins, Arthur Shelby breathed no longer. Neither did Grace Shelby, nor Esme Shelby, the late wife of the man soon to be her husband, the gypsy beauty getting in the way of a hit meant for John on Christmas Day and lamentably not surviving it.  

And Cosima thought her hand dealt was bad. For John, it was decidedly bleaker by far.  

His brother was gone, his wife was gone, his sister-in-law was gone, and his fate was now bound to a person belonging to a family whom he couldn’t stand with any ounce of tolerance. Tolerance was what he had to show, though, in order to keep relations smoothed over, before anybody else ended up dead.  

“It’s a fresh start for us all, John boy,” Tommy began, standing in front of his brother, straightening his tie. “I don’t expect you to be happy about it, but...” 

“Good, ‘cos I ain’t,” he cut in with, his jaw tightening, refusing to meet his brother’s eye. “Esme is barely fucking cold, and you’ve got me marrying some wop bitch. Trust me, Tom. I ain’t fucking happy in the slightest.”   

The elder Shelby truly had no comeback for that. He knew his actions were a slap in the face to John, to Arthur, to Esme and to the love of his life, but there was no other way around it. He didn’t plan on losing anybody else to a war that could be negotiated through. It had been tough to bargain, but peace had been restored finally, Tommy reasoning that scores had been settled upon both sides of the divide.  

They were more than even. In fact, they truly weren’t, two lives on the Changretta side, three on the Shelby, two innocent women coming into the crossfire and dying because of it. He was not prepared to lose more. If he could also turn a very tidy profit while not losing more, then so be it.  

Finally, he managed to catch the icy stare of his brother, Tommy squeezing his shoulders. “Give it time. At least you’re getting wed to an attractive woman. Could have matched you to a right scrag, but I didn’t.” 

She could have been the queen of fucking Sheba for all John cared. Her beauty or lack thereof was neither here nor there. She wasn’t Esme, and that was all there was to it. “Gotta habit of this, you have, marrying me off to some bird I ain’t ever clapped eyes on until I get to the altar, all for the sake of keeping the peace.”  

There hadn’t been an actual altar at his wedding to Esme, but this time there was no room for negotiation. The priest local to the district Cosima Changretta lived in had been given a hefty bung to marry them, regardless of the fact that John was a non-practising Catholic. Usually, Father David would have required he at least attend weekly mass for a few months prior to the wedding, but this wasn’t possible when the union had been set up to take place within the space of a week from its original incarnation. 

Through his disesteem, John wasn’t blind to see the benefits of joining the families in order to broker peace, though. He just wished there was some other way, one that didn’t involve him forsaking his late wife’s memory, or literally getting into bed with a member of the very family who had taken three members of his. 

With a red rose buttonhole pinned to his charcoal suit – those specific flowers at Cosima’s request – they headed out to the waiting car, ready to be ferried across Birmingham to the district of Bournville, to St Francis of Assisi. 

“Holy shit, the waft of that bloody chocolate," Polly spoke from the back of the car, the famous Cadbury factory emitting the heady scent of it’s delicious confectionary. “Making my mouth water, it is.” 

“Well, as long as the air smells like Dairy fucking Milk, all’s right as rain, ain’t it, Pol?” John muttered, watching the little black and white houses dotted along the main road pass them by. It was such a different landscape than the one he was used to, the village of Bournville so very picturesque and quaint.  

Polly tutted. “Oi, less of your fucking lip, our John. Don’t make today any harder than it has to be by being a surly shit about it.”  

“Yeah, but...”  

She cut his protests dead with her usual blunt retort. “We know, for the love of god! You’ve vented your spleen so hard at this, I’m surprised you have one left! This isn’t ideal, but it’ll bring us peace and let me rest my fucking head easy at night, not worrying when the next of my fucking nephew’s is going to end up riddled with bullet holes. Now, put your fucking face straight. We’re nearly there.”  

He could have begun his protests once more, vented at how it wasn’t right that he was being thrown into wedlock again just four months after his second wife had died, how at thirty years old, he shouldn’t have already had to attend the funerals of two Mrs. Shelby’s, but he knew it would serve him little good.  

Arriving at the church, they made their way inside, John surprised to be greeted kindly by Audrey Changretta, who was standing talking to the verger.  

“A lot of water has gone under the bridge, John. All I want going forward is for you to be a good man to my Cosima. Can you do that for me, love?” 

His heartstrings were yanked upon hard, knowing how much his actions had devastated her. She looked weary from it all, the sparkle in her eyes non-existent. He’d never wanted her to be hurt in all of this, the teacher he held so many fond memories of, the woman he had steadfastly refused to murder in cold blood. “I can. I promise I will.”  

She patted his cheek, smiling thinly. That smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and for that he couldn’t blame her. “Thank you.” She exchanged nods with Polly and Tommy, the Shelby’s moving into the church, smiling to their family and friends as they passed the pews, the Changretta presence outnumbering them by about two to one.  

He and Tommy stood to the side of the altar, Polly taking a seat at the first pew between Finn and Ada, the latter giving the groom-to-be a bolstering smile. It had little of its desired effect, John feeling a cold swirl of discomfort growing chillier by the moment. “Forgive me, Esme. I fucking wish this weren’t happening just as much as I wish you were still here, love.”  

His deeply lamenting thoughts were banished by the sound of the organ keys pressed upon, the church filling with music as the congregation stood, Father David quickly shaking both his and Tommy’s hands before his focus shifted towards the doors, beaming as he watched Cosima escorted in by her brother. The bride looked exquisite in her white lace gown, her cascading veil shrouding her face, the dress very quintessentially Italian in fashion. 

John didn’t dare turn around and watch her walk to him, only aware of her arrival at his side from the strong plume of Chanel perfume entering his nose, finally turning to see Luca gently lift her veil, kissing her cheek and whispering a few words in Italian to her. He then moved to John, surprising him by offering his hand.  

“To famiglia, eh?” 

“Yeah,” he coughed, shaking it. The Italian’s grip was like Iron, his face unflinching. There was no true warmth there. “To family.”  

Luca moved to sit at his mother’s side, John finally letting his eyes fall to his left, taking her in for the first time. His throat tightened in an instant. He’d thought Esme to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, the guilt of the fact that Cosima Changretta was the biggest knockout he’d ever witnessed hitting him hard.  

As for his soon to be wife, when her piercing blue eyes found his, the sensation of her heart skipping on three consecutive beats made her feel a little nauseous for a moment.  

He was gorgeous.  

Why did he have to be gorgeous? It would have made hating him so much easier if he’d been ugly.  

“At least I will have something nice to look at, while I’m throwing plates at his head.” She thought, turning to the priest and smiling as best she could, given the circumstances.  

The ceremony was a long, tedious affair, the bride wishing for a traditional mass that bored the balls off John. He did well to hide it, though. What he failed miserably at was looking in any way, shape or form happy when they were pronounced man and wife, offering her a chaste kiss to the cheek, a speedy peck of non-affection. Cosima was relieved he hadn’t leaned to her mouth. She wasn’t ready for that yet.  

Taking his arm, she walked back down the aisle as the newest member of the Shelby family, her eyes sad as she looked at her mother and brother. They smiled at her with loving pride, Cosima dropping her chin, lest they see the tears in her eyes as she walked alongside her new husband, a man she couldn’t stand. True, she knew nothing of John Shelby, other than what he’d had a hand in taking from her.  

With every step, she had to physically prevent herself from gathering the bridal lace swathing her slender curves and running, back to Acacia Road, back to the family home. This was where she desired to be, out in the flower filled back garden tending to her roses, taking cuttings of herbs ready to be brought into the kitchen and tutored by her darling mother in everything from Carbonara to baked Ziti. 

She longed for the scents of her mother’s pasta, to hear her father’s key in the door, his whistled tunes filling the homestead as she’d wipe her hands upon her apron and run to greet him. Her papa, the man she loved and respected the very most. Gone.  

“You erm, you look beautiful, Cosima.”  

His face did not match his compliment, Cosima looking up at her new husband, her face stony. “I know. Shame my dream wedding didn’t come with the dream groom, though.”  

John sniffed, his eyebrow tilting a fraction. “Ahh, you might still get it yet. We can get divorced and give it another go with other people. Who knows? I could nail it lucky the fourth time around.” 

Her eyes widened. “You’ve been married twice before?”  

“Ar.” 

“And what the blinking hell happened to them?” she demanded, wondering just what her brother had gotten her into, marrying her off to a man who was on his third wife. 

“They died, if you must know,” he frowned, reaching the end of the aisle, the door opening, a cascade of confetti hurled at them from the throng of guests exiting behind them. 

“Lucky them.” Her mutter was drowned out by the sound of happy cheers, or at least she thought it had been. Her new husband had heard it, though, wanting nothing more than to slap her in her rude mouth for her coldly delivered statement. 

“Great, got myself hitched to a stunner and she’s a right nasty little mare.” he spoke, certainly loud enough for her to hear, releasing the hold upon her arm and moving to receive congratulations from his family. Cosima narrowed her eyes at him in his wake, turning to smile brightly at her friends, her hands taken in theirs, cheeks kissed, her heart thrumming with waves of sadness. A right nasty little mare. That’s what he thought of her, Cosima’s indignance burning brightly for a while, not able to reflect upon the fact that what she’d said had indeed been very spiteful.  

At twenty-three, she truly should have known better. With two dead wives behind him and a bitterness that still lingered beneath the surface between the two families, she guessed he was likely as thrilled to be married to her as she was to him. An apology perhaps wouldn’t go amiss.  

Once they’d posed for a few photographs, the bride and groom were shown to the waiting Rolls Royce Silver Cloud, John holding the door open for her, following her in and staring stonily out of the window as they pulled away from the church.  

She felt awkward and ashamed of her words, moving her thumb back and forth over one of the large thorns the florist had neglected to remove from the bouquet of red roses. “John, I apologise for what I said, about your late wives being lucky. I only meant that... I don’t know what I meant, actually.” 

She was met by a cold, two worded statement. “Fuck off.”  

Deserved, to be fair. Predictably, Cosima let it spark at her kindling rather than rushing for water, though. “That’s impossible, now I’m your wife. Don’t bloody pout at me. I said something regrettable, but because of your family I don’t have Angel or my father any longer. You yourself are directly responsible for the former. If you hadn’t beaten him within an inch of his life, he wouldn’t have lay vulnerable in hospital, ripe for the plucking. And let’s not forget that scumbag of a brother of yours, who killed my papa.” 

He tutted, chewing his toothpick with hostility. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who lost somebody you loved. Fucking gone right over your head, ain’t it? Because of your family, I lost me wife, brother and sister-in-law. We’re in the same boat, Cosima.” 

“You started all of this. You could have just let Lizzie be happy with Angel, but no! You had to burn his restaurant to the fucking ground. What is it you dumb Shelby fucks say, hmm? By order of the Peaky Blinders, that’s it! Your way or the highway!” 

Bile began licking at his insides. “Your brother weren’t good enough for Lizzie. She’s a good woman, and he was a fucking duplicitous shit. Didn’t even have the balls to use his real name for half his dealings. At least we stand by who we fucking are.” 

Her rage escalated by the second, staring at him incredulously. “My brother had the sense to be clandestine, and you will not speak of him like you knew him! So, he partnered with your enemies, so fucking what? The way you Shelby’s conduct yourself, you make enemies left and fucking right! You took my family away from me for nothing. Nothing!” 

John eyed her viciously, his eyes losing any trace of warmth. “They fucking deserved it, and you, you spoiled little wop bitch? You deserve nothing less than every fucking ounce of my contempt. We’re married in name only, believe me. Ain’t no way I’m gonna be a good husband to you, no matter what I promised your mom.” 

“Fine by me!”  

The air virtually crackled with their mutual distain, Cosima shuffling as far as she could get away from him, muttering cusses in Italian. 

“I know what testa di cazzo means,” he spat. 

“Good!” she fumed, “I want you to know I think you’re a dickhead!” 

The reception was being held at a small hotel local to the church, Cosima storming out of the car and not looking back, fixing a huge, fake smile to her face as she was welcomed by the staff. Immediately, her eyes locked onto a waiter carrying a tray of champagne filled flutes, taking one and knocking it back. A second was reached for, John arriving at her side.  

“Whiskey please, mate. Fucking large one.” 

The waiter nodded. “At once, sir.”  

They stood together to welcome their guests, both repelled by one another’s presence, going through the motions of everything. Cake cutting, first dance, spending as much time as they could away from one another. It was while John was seeking the solace of quiet and fresh night air much later that evening, standing on the rear patio of the hotel smoking a cigar, that he found himself joined by the last person he expected. 

“Can I give you some advice, John?” 

Turning to Luca, he raised an eyebrow, the tall Italian continuing. “If you want a quiet life with my sister, you need to keep her in the lifestyle she’s become accustomed to. I love that girl to her bones, but she’s a fucking spoiled princess.” 

His eyes widened. “You can say that again.” 

Luca’s mouth twitched, removing the toothpick he’d been idly chewing on. “My father bent to her every whim, being his only daughter. She was daddy’s little girl. Roses, diamonds, furs, French perfume, she loves all of that. You treat her good and she’ll be sweet with you. And make sure she has a garden. That kid lives for horticulture.” 

Luckily, he was wealthy enough to provide such luxuries for his new bride, not that he wanted to. Not that she deserved even one of them. “Noted.”  

He nodded, turning to leave his new brother-in-law to it, pausing suddenly as he pointed the toothpick in his grasp at him. “Oh, and John? She’s got a thing for hurling plates. Learn to duck.” Laughing to himself, he carried on back into the hotel, while John felt a prickle of annoyance at his statement, or rather how much pleasure he’d derived from delivering the news that Cosima was nothing short of a bad-tempered handful.  

Standing out there alone, he did hope that one day he might see her as something different. Whether that day would come swiftly or not was anybody’s guess, though. 

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x ofc #peaky blinders fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #john shelby smut #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #john shelby x oc #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic

[goldenshornyjail]

People mistake wanting to fuck a character with them being a canonical bottom so anyways uhhh can i get stupid sexy terrorist catsuit blake getting railed into oblivion

When I originally read this, I was so excited to write a blurb for it. Unfortunately, every time I came back to it, my brain just went "Nah... I'm not feeling it." Well, I got the juices flowing now! I'll say Yang is wearing her volume 5 outfit.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

On an SDC train approaching Vale.

Terrorist!Blake: (wearing skin tight, leather shorts with fishnets and thigh high, black leather boots, black leather corset with deep purple and red accents, black jacket with red stitching and a purple belladonna flower on the back, and a Grimm mask. An earpiece and microphone receiver are placed in her ear and around her neck in a collar)

Blake: (finishes planting the last charge on the dust storage door and presses a button on the receiver) Final charge has been placed.

Adam: Nice job, Darling. I knew you could handle it. Make your way to the last car so we can ditch the train and blow the whole train sky high.

Blake: Yeah, I don't need you calling me "Darling" anymore.

Adam: What was that?

Blake: (walks out to the car connection and flips a switch on a spare bomb) Consider this a breakup. Not that it was much of a relationship to begin with.

Detonator beeps and Blake steps back into the train car just in time for the bomb to explode, sending the rear car careening off the tracks and down the embankment.

Huntress!Yang: Well, I never would have figured you to be the type to abandon a partner.

Blake: (smirks) Ex- partner. (turns towards Yang and pops her hip) I'm not a fan of being in a relationship with a manipulative abuser.

Yang: (crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe leading into the train car) Yeah, I think you brought that up a few times in this little game of tag of ours.

Blake: (saunters up to Yang and drags the tip of her nail under Yang's jaw) I appreciate you not saying "game of cat and mouse".

Yang: (watches Blake's hand diligently but gives a warm smile) I figured that would be inappropriate, even if it is true.

Blake: I hope you don't think you're the "cat" in this situation~ (trails her nail across Yang's lower lip)

Yang: Maybe at the beginning of this. (gently grab's Blake's hand and gives a teasing nip to the tip of her finger)

Blake: (breath catches in her throat, but she manages to hide her reaction)

Yang: But I know better by now. (releases Blake's hand and rolls the tension out of her shoulders) So! How are we going to do it this time? We fight a little bit before you find a way to distract me just long enough to escape? We fight and I actually capture you this time to bring you to "justice" for your crimes?

Blake: Or you could just let me go. (drags her nails over Yang's breasts, down her stomach, and stops just above her crotch)

Yang: (grunts softly) Sorry, Blake. I can't exactly do that.

Blake: Awww. You remembered my name.

Yang: Of course I did. It's a pretty name. A pretty name (reaches up and pulls the Grimm mask away) for a beautiful woman.

Blake: (blushes slightly but keeps smirking) Well, how about we enjoy the little time we have left before the train pulls into Vale Station? Then we can make a decision.

Yang: (rolls eyes with a smile) I feel like that's a bad idea.

Blake: (continues to rub the front of Yang's pants until there's a prominent bulge) We've made plenty of those already, Yang. What's one more?

#bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #rwby #spicy bees #huntress yang #terrorist blake #i'm gonna have to make a part 2 for this #hot damn #yang's gonna have a wang