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spacegoldilocks · 3 years

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The Gods Demand a Queen

Bjorn Ironside x F!Reader

Summary: You're a thrall in Kattegat, under the rule of Bjorn, who desires to one day be Queen and sit on the throne. He helps you realise these dreams, in more ways than one.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, smut, rough sex, throne sex, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, bit of choking, bit of spanking, size kink, praise, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.5k

The Gods have never favoured you.

You’ve been at someone else’s will for as long as you can remember. Not all of them have been nice. It’s toughened you up, though. You’ve learnt your place and your manners. You’ve learnt when is the correct time to speak, and definitely when isn’t the correct time.

You’ve been in Kattegat, under the mercy of Bjorn Ironside, for a few months now. He’s fair. You mostly stay in the shadows and out of his way. He’s not even here most of the time, anyway. You can’t really complain about your time here, even though you dream of a different life.

You dream of sitting high on a throne somewhere. Anywhere. Not having anyone to answer to. Your own thralls and slaves to do with as you please. A thousand people who call you their Queen, who sit around you, showering you with compliments and gifts. Sacrifices in your own name. A crown upon your head and your face smeared with colours that tell everyone that you are the Queen.

Alas, dreams are dreams. And you don’t dare defy the authority that lingers over you. The fate that awaits your disobedience and failure to capture the power you so desperately crave is worse than simply maintaining your fantasy. You listen attentively to the every need of the family in charge. Most notably, Bjorn.

He’s away more often than he’s here. In those moments, the throne lays empty. Practically begging to be used. At present, no queen resides in Kattegat and you long for the feeling of the throne beneath you. It calls to you like no other.

It’s more than a feeling that tells you that you belong on the throne. You feel as though the Gods have a plan for you. They keep you waiting, so you can ready yourself for when the times comes. It is a question of when not if. The Gods demand a queen for Kattegat, you can hear them.

You say Bjorn is away more than he’s here, yet today is one of the rare times he’s here and he’s active. A room full of people and many duties to attend to. Which also means you’ve been on your feet all day. With Bjorn home and his being busy, you’ve had no end of tasks to complete and requests to indulge.

It started this morning when he and his men arrived on the shores of Kattegat. You having to draw baths and prepare a feast, wash clothing and all the while do it quickly to keep time for any other jobs that might need doing. This included waiting on their every need as they enjoyed festivities for returning safely from their travels.

And so, the throne has been occupied. The only time Bjorn left his seat was to eat with his men, and he quickly returned to it when he was finished. You’d been watching him since he returned. The way he sits, spreading across the chair. Arms thrown over the sides, legs parted, head resting against the back as he looks down at everyone else.

Despite everything you feel, there’s no denying that power suits him. He makes a good king. He is fair and strong and courageous. And he is a son of Ragnar. He speaks with a loud, commanding voice when he addresses his people, thanking them for their bravery and telling them that they live to face more battles before walking the halls of Valhalla.

You won’t lie to yourself and say he’s not attractive, you’ve thought about it before. If you weren’t a thrall and spent more time with Bjorn, you like to think that something might’ve happened between the two of you. But you really have a knack for staying in the shadows, hidden, and only coming out when absolutely necessary.

Throughout the entire evening into night you’ve stayed hidden away as much as possible, watching Bjorn in his position on the throne. Gods, he’s so big. You shake the thought from your head, feeling the pain in your shoulders from so much time racing around today. Your back is killing you. But it’s getting very late, not long and you should be able to go to bed. Not long, you tell yourself. Everyone in the hall should be getting tired too, a long day of celebrations after an even longer time travelling.

They start disappearing in small numbers. Many women leaving in the arms of men, some already married, others seeking comfort in one another just for the night. You’ve made it your business to become familiar with a lot of people around here, not just so you can be a good thrall, but just in case. In case of what, you don’t know. You just think it might be good to have a good indication of who people are, and what they do, in case you need it.

Eventually, there’s only you, a few other slave girls and a handful of men, who are outrageously drunk. They’re so loud. They shout and bang their fists and cups on the table, spilling their drinks and making an even bigger mess that will need to be cleaned up.

Bjorn looks almost fed up, scowling as he watches the men from his seat. He holds his chin, elbow propped up on the arm of the throne. “That is quite enough.” He calls.

All eyes shoot to him. The men look like they want to argue back at him, but ultimately know better than to do so.

“Finish your drinks and leave. Everyone needs their rest.” He gestures around the room, even though there are only a few men, all concentrated on the table nearest the fire. “We have a long few days ahead of us.”

They chug their drinks, not wanting to disappoint or annoy Bjorn any further. They leave one by one, as soon as they each finish drinking, bowing to him before swaggering out of the hall.

You and the other girls are expecting Bjorn to up and leave, letting you all take care of the mess in the hall. But he doesn’t.

You each look at one another from across the room, spaced out along the walls. You’re all as confused as each other, trying to look for someone, or something, to take a cue from.

One of the girls, directly across from you, begins to move. She steps forward gingerly, looking at Bjorn as she does so for any sign that he wants everyone to remain as they are. It’s incredibly tense. This has never happened before. You’re waiting for his voice to boom and echo throughout the mostly empty room, telling the girl to return to her place.

His eyes flick to her, watching as she goes to the table, picking up as many items as she can carry, before returning to stare at the ground, lost in thought and twiddling his fingers. He doesn’t seem to have a problem - you’d know if he did.

And so the rest of you follow her lead, carrying things out of sight to clean and making the hall look more presentable after being thoroughly worn out by the returning warriors.

Your whole body aches. Your back, your feet, your head. Everything. At this point, you just want to sit down. The soles of your feet are probably worn from standing, walking, rushing from one place to the next.

You take any little milestone you can get. You told yourself everyone in the hall would leave and they did. Check. Now it’s four more tables to clear, the fire to put out, the goblets and cups to leave soak. The list goes on.

You and the other girls are dotted around the hall, cleaning and collecting different things when Bjorn gets up. You all make it your duty to not look at him.

Do not make it obvious that you were waiting for him to do something.

You hear him make his way across the room, his heavy boots making the wood underneath him creak, thumping across the stone floor as he descends from the elevated throne. His footsteps stop much too early for him to have already left the room, let alone the building. It’s unbearably quiet.

You audibly gasp when you hear whispering voices - much too quiet for you to understand what they’re saying, and thankfully they’re too far away for them to have heard your embarrassing gasp. Although, you immediately recognise one of the voices as Bjorn’s. Gods, you’d love to turn around to see what he’s doing. His behaviour tonight is continually fascinating.

You try your best to keep going with your task. ‘Just clean the table’ you tell yourself. ‘Focus on that. There’s a stain, try to get it out. Pay no attention to the-‘. Now there’s two sets of footsteps. One Bjorn’s, the other one of the girls. Is she leaving?

The stain. You scrub at it, trying to ignore the way Bjorn’s footsteps stop again. Followed by more whispering. And more footsteps. What the fuck is going on?

You think another one of the girls has left too. You scrub harder at the stain, thinking that perhaps if you channel enough of your remaining energy into removing it then your brain won’t have any to think about what Bjorn may or may not be doing.

Gods, why are you so on edge? Would you be this tense if you could actually see what he was doing? Shit, is that more whispering? And it’s closer. Maybe if you stopped scrubbing the table so loudly you could just about hear…

No. The stain.

Fuck, what is happening? In the room, to the girls, to Bjorn, to you.

You can probably guess what’s happening to you - you’re tired. You’re becoming delusional from being so exhausted by today. You’ve worked hard. You’re still working hard. This damned stain. You’re working so hard to remove it, to distract yourself, you’re only now feeling the way your shoulder is pulling from the harsh movements of your arm.

The stain’s probably gone. You lift your arm up to check and, sure enough, it is. Surely, you’re done for the night now? You’re exhausted, the long hours you’ve worked today are starting to catch up with you. You want to sit down. You want your bed. You want to rest. You want the hand that’s just started rubbing circles across your back to keep doing it. Gods, you could fall asleep right here, the motions lulling you.

Fuck. You flash back to your reality, your head whipping around as Bjorn’s eyes meet yours. He looks aggressive, towering over and shrouding you against the table. His hand rests on the small of your back as he just looks down at you. Maybe its your exhaustion, or perhaps its seeing him this close up for the first time, but Gods is he gorgeous.

Well, you’ve always thought he was handsome but something about seeing the many scars on his face that you’d never had the privilege of seeing before, and the brilliant blue of his eyes somewhat dimmed in the firelight, and the coarse hairs of his beard like this snaps you awake. His smile breaks through the tough exterior he presents, making you relax just a little bit.

The next words that come out of his mouth take you by surprise more than his hand that smoothes across your back. “Have a drink with me.”

Have a drink with him? You probably look insane because you just stare at him. Completely dumbfounded. Somehow you manage to nod your head, letting him lead you away from your lovely, clean table to a slightly dirtier one. At least he appreciates your hard work.

You set yourself down on one of the benches by the fire, resting your arms on the table to try to find a comfortable position where your back doesn’t ache. Bjorn, meanwhile, crosses the room, fetching with him two cups of ale. He sits down right next you, leaving a bit of space but not much.

He looks at you quizzically as he takes a gulp of his drink, whilst you sip. “What is your name again?”

You’re not surprised he doesn’t remember, it’s been many months since you last spoke to him outside of his instructions to you. You answer him between sips of the ale. It’s not your favourite drink in the world, but you like it. And you’ll probably get a small buzz off it between your sleepiness and the lack of water you’ve drank today.

“Hm,” he hums. “That was it. You have been here for several months now, no?”

You can’t help but wonder why he’s sat with you, asking you questions about yourself. Is he expecting you to ask questions back in return? You don’t think there’s a thing you don’t know about him. He is the king, after all.

You nod. “And what do you think of Kattegat?” He swigs from his cup, eyes staying on your face as you carefully consider his question.

You have nothing negative to say about the place, but you still try to choose your words carefully in case you say the wrong thing. “I think it is lovely here.”

He stays silent, willing you to keep talking.

“The people are nice, the food is good. And it is a beautiful place. There is much to see and do.” You elaborate.

He smiles under his beard, nodding in approval at your answer. You sip some more, waiting for another of his questions. He gets up to refill his cup, having finished it rather quickly. He checks yours, seeing it still mostly full, and walks across the room.

Just when he’s about to sit back down, he asks you another question. “And what do you think of the King?”

Your heart starts hammering against your chest - what sort of question is that? Moreover, what the fuck does he expect you to answer if not praise? You see his kind smile has turned into a devilish smirk when you look at him. Are you imaging it or has he sat ever-so-slightly closer to you?

You straighten yourself up, ignoring the painful tugging of your shoulders. “Well,” you begin. “I think that he is just, and fair. And that he makes a good leader.”

The smug look on his face stays, not bearing to stay silent long enough for you to make the decision to keep talking on your own. No, instead he insists you keep feeding his ego as soon as you take the smallest break in talking. “Go on.”

This time it’s you who smirks at him. “I know he is a fierce warrior. And I think that he looks rather good on the throne.” You mean the last remark in that the symbol of authority suits him. But, if he decides to take it … another way, then that’s up to him. Either way, you don’t mind what he interprets the comment to mean.

He looks away from you, chuckling, but giving nothing away. It makes you laugh a little bit too, any tension from earlier having melted away with your easy interactions.

It doesn’t last, not for you at least.

“Tell me, have you ever thought about what it would be like to be Queen?”

With one single sentence, you feel as if he can see right through you, right into you. Fucking of course you have, but how should he know? How can, in one sentence, he be able to floor you like he this, to ask you a question so unintentionally personal? One that pulls something deep within you, something you’ve never voiced to anyone and suddenly now it’s being unearthed by the one person who you should never have to confess it to. Not that you necessarily need to confess the degree to which you have thought about it, but even the insinuation that you have is enough for you to begin flustering, muddling any answer that comes into your head into an unintelligible mess that you can’t verbalise.

You’re quiet for much, much too long. You need to say something. “I’m sorry?” You settle for pretending not to understand.

But it’s no use. The damage caused by you silence is done. His jaw rocks to the side, clenched so hard his jaw bone juts outs under his beard. “So you have.”

Your drink lays forgotten, only serving as a distraction for your anxious hands as you fidget with the rim of the cup. You avoid his gaze, unsure how to act. Then again, surely everyone has dreamt about being king or queen? Maybe not to the degree you have, but doesn’t everyone strive for power? You hold your head up a little bit, feeling slightly reassured by your own line of thinking.

You keep your eyes trained forward, though. He tips his head to look at your face and you can just feel the way he’s smirking at you. He’s left you looking so stupid, stewing in your own thoughts.

“Come with me.” Is all he says as he swings his legs over the bench to stand up. When you look up he’s waiting, hand held out for you to take.

You get up, smoothing your dress out and taking his hand. He guides you out to stand with him on the other side of the bench and leads you towards the very far end of the long room. Towards the throne.

Your eyes flick from him, to the throne, to him again - back and forth as you walk the length of the room.

He stops at the chair and you stop with him, still with your hand in his. Is he doing this as a display to taunt you? Show you up close what you can never have? It’s fucking cruel if he is.

You wait for him to do something so you can take a cue from it. You look up at him and he simply motions with his hand to the throne. You frown, waiting for more information from him. “Sit.” He says.

Sit? On the throne? On his throne? Gods, is this some sort of test? Is he giving you a taste, a mere crumb, of how it might feel to actually have power? Or is he just pushing you to see how far you’re willing to go to obey him? It’s his throne, it belongs to him. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone else use it - not even while he’s away, far gone on a raid somewhere.

He drops your hand, using his own to push gently on your shoulders. He spins you around, pulling you down to sit on the throne as he stands behind you.

The room looks huge from this position. Slightly elevated above everyone else and able to see everything and, should the room be full, everyone. It’s comfortable too, and big. You expected as much, Bjorn doesn’t even fully fill the chair and he’s the biggest, broadest man you think you’ve ever seen.

He lowers himself to your ear behind you. “How does it feel?”

‘Correct’, is what you want to say. “Good.” Is what you settle for.

He straightens back up, placing his hands on your shoulders. He’s so big, and he’s putting far too much weight on your already sore shoulders, causing you to wince. “Are you alright?” He asks, alleviating some of the pressure.

“‘M fine, my back hurts is all.” You try to make it not seem as bad as it is, but truthfully you’re in pain.

“Let me help.”

“N-no, it is fine, really.” You lean forward to get up from the throne just as he starts using his thumbs to dig right into a tight spot in the middle of your shoulder blades. You let out a groan at how good it feels, closing your eyes and slumping your head against the back of the chair. Any desire to get up leaves you as Bjorn works the muscles at the back of your neck.

“Tell me if it is too hard.” The calloused pads of his fingers trace firmly across the tops of your shoulders, barely grazing your collar bones as his thumbs work into the top of your back.

It’s a power trip. You sitting on his throne whilst he massages the knots out of your back and shoulders. It’s getting you high, and you open your eyes to look out across the room. You imagine how it would look full of people. Like it was earlier tonight. Packed full with people there to see you. You'd kill for it.

Gods, his hands feel so fucking good and they spread across your shoulders so big. Your eyes flutter back closed, wanting to enjoy his touch without much other sensory experience.

You’re reluctant to acknowledge the fact that it’s turning you on, too. The pain of him rubbing away the aches mixes with just how amazing his warm hands feel against your bare skin. It makes you moan, forgetting where you are as you revel in his hands taking the pain away from you, leaving only traces of his touch behind.

He focuses on your arms now, the clusters of dull ache now gone from your back. His palms work down your biceps, squeezing your soft flesh over your clothes and coming back up to massage your shoulders. His fingers spread out over your chest, rubbing the skin there. You hum under his touch, which he can probably feel reverberating on your chest under his fingertips.

You didn’t tell him your chest hurt, but he spends time concentrating on manipulating your flesh there anyway. His fingers dig into the bones, coming up momentarily to wrap his thick fingers around your neck, squeezing before dipping back down. He repeats this a few times, making you whimper every time he does.

“Is this good?” He whispers from behind you.

You moan out a small ‘yes’, letting him continue with his handy work. His splayed hands come further down your chest, beginning to dip below the necklace of your dress. Your heart beats faster and fuck, you’re wet. You’re trying not to let it get to you but in this moment, you’d let him do anything to you, you realise.

You furrow your brows, trying to push it to the back of your mind, but his hands keep working further and further down, in tiny increments. You swear he’s going to reach your breasts any moment. But he doesn’t. It feels like he’s teasing you. In fact, he goes anywhere besides them. He massages the skin directly above them, kneading into it with the heel of his palm. Then, he dips his fingertips deep into the neckline of your dress, drawing a long, hard line through the middle of your chest, dragging between your breasts. He starts near the bottom of your sternum, feeling the rapid beat of your heart as you try not to think about the warmth pooling between your legs.

You don’t see the way his jaw clenches as he realises how rousing you’re finding this, being groped and touched by him. He told himself he wasn’t going to take it any further, but he can’t help himself. Not when you respond to his touch like this. All the little moans you’ve been making, and the way your heart thrums against your chest. He wants more from you. He wants to hear and feel more of you. Fuck it, he thinks.

He touch leaves you, and you feel yourself come down slightly from a high you didn’t even realise was so severe until it cuts short. You open your eyes to see him walking around to the front of the throne again. He extends his hand to you, much like he did earlier, and you know its your signal to get up from the throne.

You take it, feeling no pain whatsoever in your back, nor shoulders, when you hurl yourself from the comfort of the chair.

He surveys you, using his free hand to cup your cheek. His touch is intoxicating. You don’t know what it is, but the way his hands feel on your skin makes you chase the warmth of him, needing more than the short strokes he gives you. You lean your head into his palm, only slightly but enough to indicate your interest to him.

He’s trying so hard not to give into the part of his brain that tells him to kiss you and to touch you even more. But he hasn’t done well at fighting it up until now. And, unless he’s deluded, you want this too.

Your chest rises and falls, waiting for him to do something. It’s not your place to. His hand stays holding your cheek. It’s so fucking big. It’s big enough for his palm to cover your entire cheek. Gods, his hands were big enough to almost spread out across your chest. His long, thick fingers working at the base of your neck and down past your breasts. Your mind drifts as you stare at him, thinking about how they might feel somewhere else.

His hand drops from your cheek. You think he’s going to walk away and leave you desperate for his touch again. Instead, he sits back down on his throne, looking up at you as he settles against the back of it casually.

Fucking Gods, if he keeps looking at you like that you’re going to jump on him. It’s him that made you feel like this anyway. You were perfectly content to go to bed after finishing cleaning, but no. He had to ask if you wanted a drink with him, and ask you questions, and fucking massage you as you sat on his throne.

He keeps looking at you, considering what to do next. All he knows is he wants you out of your dirty, worn clothes. He flicks his hand up and down, gesturing at them. “Take it off.” He tells you.

Finally, you think, trying not to be too eager in removing your garments.

You start with your shirt, unhooking the top few buttons to allow you to slip the long sleeves down your arms. You let the sleeves fall and the rest of the garment goes with it, left in a heap at your feet. You’re completely revealed for him, your body glowing from the light of the fire behind you.

His cock twitches in his trousers upon seeing you bare before him. He’s trying not to be too obvious, trying to be patient in looking at your body, but he’s greedy. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every inch of your exposed skin that he can see.

You look down at the slight tent in his trousers, smirking at him. He returns it, curling his finger at you to beckon you forward. You’re much too far away, he wants to let his hands explore you. Much further than they already did.

You walk to him, meeting his hands as they come up to hold your tits. Those big fucking hands that trace under the swell of your breast. That grope at your flesh, and his thumbs that brush over your nipples, hard in the cool night air that makes its way into the hall.

He alternates between pinching your nipples, pulling them so hard it almost hurts, and soothing them again by gently rubbing over them.

Everything about this feels so dirty. Displaying yourself to Bjorn. The literal king. Offering yourself to him naked like this whilst he sits completely clothed on his throne. You know you’re probably not the first thrall he’s done this with, but it’s a first for you. And you actually like it. It’s a thrill. Whimpering at every roll of his fingertips over your nipples.

You ache for his touch somewhere else, trying to subtly squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the ache. He doesn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry, taking his time to study every detail and flaw in your skin. It could be ages before he touches you elsewhere - if he decides to touch you elsewhere.

He pinches you again, but you’re so sensitive from his hands that you yelp, chest jumping under his touch. He looks up at you, looking at your face for the first time since you removed your clothes as he leans forward, enveloping your breast in his mouth. His tongue is hot but does wonders to soothe the slight stinging. He maintains eye contact as he swirls gentle circles around your nipple, leave a small bite before he moves to work on your other one. His beard scratches at your skin as he moves his mouth, melting in with the pleasure he's already giving you.

You snake your arm around his head, holding him to you as you watch him in awe. He’s an expert with his tongue, flicking and drawing patterns over the peaks. He moves on from focusing all of his attention on them though, sucking sloppy wet kisses into the bouncy flesh on your tits. He travels the kisses across your chest, leaving you glistening with his saliva. He goes down, grabbing at your hips as he traces his tongue down the centre of your breasts to just above your navel.

You want him to go further, resisting the want to buck your hips towards him to will him to go on. He draws his head back, his hands still resting on your hips.

He shifts his gaze down, watching his own movements as his fingers move across your lower abdomen, combing through the curls that lead him down.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

You nod. Gods, it’s more than okay. You’ve been waiting for him to touch you for the last … how long? You’ve lost all sense of time. All you know is you’re needy for him.

His tips of his fingers travel further, stilling as they reach the beginning of your slit. He lifts his head, studying how your face contorts in pleasure as he moves his fingers again, pressing one of them against your clit.

He pushes his finger down further towards your entrance, feeling how wet you are there. He smiles at this, satisfied knowing how turned on you are for him. He drags his finger back through, now wet with your slick, using it to draw an irritatingly weak circle around your clit. You try to push your hips further forward for more pressure, but the hand that remains on your hip prevents you from doing so.

Your breath staccatos as he pays not nearly enough attention to your throbbing clit. You moan at the loss of contact when he removes his hand from your cunt altogether, spinning you around so your back, and ass, face him. He almost pushes you over as he grabs handfuls of your behind, spreading your cheeks apart to really get a good look at you.

All you need is just a little push, a minute or so of strong, steady work on your pussy to send you over the edge. He’s intent on making you wait though. It’s cruel, you think. He knows what he’s doing to you - he’s fucking felt it. It’s sadistic. Making you wait. Teasing you.

He kneads your ass, his thumbs dipping into the space between your cheeks, so close to where you need him but never quite reaching there. It’s torturous. You know if you push your rear out against him, it’ll probably result in a longer wait before he properly pays you the attention you desperately crave. And so you stay just as you are, letting him manipulate your flesh as he so pleases. You can wait, you tell yourself.

Suddenly, he takes one of his hands away, using it to place a hard smack against your ass. You cry out as you feel heat rising where he’s slapping you. It stings and you’re surprised you like it. He watches your body shake, eagerly awaiting more. You clench around nothing as he lands another one. And another. He huffs a laugh, seeing how your body jolts at every strike, continuing to land a few more as he pleases.

He seems satisfied with his work on your behind, raising his hands to your hips once again. He places a soft kiss on your burning skin and then you’re being hurled backwards, landing on his lap.

He immediately starts attacking your neck with tongue and teeth, hands roaming around your stomach to pull you into a comfortable position on him. He then uses them to pull your legs over both of his, spreading them to give himself access to your body.

And he makes sure he makes the most of it. He grabs your tits, letting your head roll onto his shoulder as he continues his assault on your neck. You feel your skin going tender as he sucks harsh spots against the delicate flesh there. You feel the irritation there as his rough beard scratches your skin, with the potential to leave your skin marred.

“Do you want me to touch you?” He whispers between sloppy kisses.

“Gods, please.” You moan in response.

“Where?” He grabs your hand, placing it over his and pressing firmly, letting you guide him wherever you want him. You take his hand down, letting it hover over your trembling cunt. He nips at your jaw. “I thought so.”

He repeats his motion from earlier, pressing a single finger against your clit, but instead of only dipping down to your entrance, he opts to slide an entire finger into you down to his knuckle. Your back tries to arch away from him, but he keeps you locked down against his chest with his spare arm.

He pumps the finger in and out of you, making the most obscene squelching sound from the warm wetness he uses to ease the movements of his digit. Your arms lay useless at the side of you, letting him do all the work to pleasure you.

He adds another finger, scissoring the two of them inside you, stretching you open as he brings his thumb down onto your clit. To go from one lone finger to this makes you cry out, hips spasming from the shock. You can’t help moaning with how he works your pussy, curling his fingers to hit a spot deep inside you that makes you feel dizzy.

“If you keep being so loud people are going to hear you.” He warns.

“Maybe I would like that.” You retort, bucking your hips as far as you can with him restricting your body’s movements.

You feel his cock twitch against you as he snarls into your ear. “Such a filthy girl.” One of his hands begins snaking its way towards your throat, grabbing at it harshly to cut off any noise that tries to escape your mouth. “But as much as I like hearing your pretty sounds, I need you to be quiet.”

The moans get trapped in your throat, and you can’t warn him of your oncoming orgasm. It starts creeping up on you, burning low in the pit of your stomach as his hands work to push you further and further. You hit at the hand on your neck, trying to get him to let you go.

He loosens his grip but the fingers inside you work faster to make you cum. “What is the matter?”

“Close.” Is all you say, the oxygen able to reach your brain again momentarily before he constricts around your neck again.

He nods into your shoulder, kissing you there as he pumps, nudging your clit with his thumb as he does so. The way you make the smallest noises that he feels trying to escape beneath his fingers makes him groan. You’re making him so fucking hard. Your pussy clamps down around his fingers, preparing for your climax when he slows his movements down entirely, sending you spinning away from coming. He removes his fingers from you, bringing them to trace small wet circles around your nipples, as his other hand eases its grip on your throat.

It takes you completely by surprise, only seconds away from finishing when he rips it all away from you. You’re breathless, asking him why he stopped. “I didn't cum.” You tell him.

“No, I know.” He laughs the deepest, filthiest laugh you think you’ve ever heard in your ear. “You’re not coming yet. I want you wetter before I make you cum on my cock.”

The words hit deep inside you, making you clench on instinct. So this is what he wants to do? Prepare you to take him. Or maybe he just likes seeing you squirm and fidget on his lap, completely in control of your body.

Either way, it’s doing wonders to keep you wanting him.

He slowly drops his hand back down, bringing the same two fingers into your warm heat. He leaves your clit alone, focusing all his attention on dragging the rough pads of his fingers against the sweet spot inside you. He curls them, hitting just where you need him to every single time. It’s bliss and before long your walls start fluttering, a sign of your peak.

He feels it. He feels how your pussy starts spasming around his fingers, clenching the very tips of them as he pushes them so fucking deep into you. He loves this. Getting to push you further and further. He wants you begging for him to let you cum. Begging for him to fuck you and let you cum all over him. He wonders how many times he can edge you before he gives in to your sweet little cries and pleading eyes.

Both of you knew it wouldn’t take long for your high to burn back up as quickly as it diminished. It makes you crazed, letting your loud moans fill the hall with nothing around your neck to stop them getting out. He works faster, now knowing how you respond to being so close, pushing his fingers into your opening and using his other hand to absentmindedly play with your tits.

He knows now how to work you up unbearably quick and strip it all away before you're pushed too far - and it’s exactly what he does. As you're sent hurtling forwards towards your high once again, he takes away his fingers, leaving you edged again.

You slump back against him and let your head rest on his shoulder, already exhausted from the whiplash of pleasure and it being stripped away before it’s able to consume you.

He rolls your head towards him, pressing his lips against your forehead. “You’re doing so well.” He praises. He rubs your thighs, waiting for the right time to start playing with your cunt again. It’s surprisingly soothing.

He waits for your breath to become steady and for your body to cool down. You’re worked up beyond belief

Your body’s covered in a cold sweat, worn out from all the edging he’s putting you through. You don’t even know how much more of this you can take. How much more you can tolerate before you take matters into your own hands, giving yourself your own release. It sounds good, but truthfully? Waiting it out for the prospect of being fucked by him? Gods, it sounds a thousand times better. You can’t see it but you can just feel how big he is, his cock pressing hard into your back. You want to feel it stretching you, filling you in a way his fingers fail to achieve.

He decides you must be ready, because he takes two fingers to rub against your clit. Your hips buck up, the nerves in your clit overworked and yet desperate to chase any contact to give them release. Your moans come out frantically, whimpering in your slumped position lying against him as his hot breath fans over your face.

His fingers work around your bud with ease, using the excessive slick you’re producing to slip through your folds. He loves this, watching how your body looks, so worked up. You’re shining with sweat, an icy sheen over your entire body, coating your chest, your legs. Beautiful.

You’re so sensitive and you haven’t even cum. You writhe in his lap, waiting for the moment you feel yourself about to peak and trying to prepare for the eventual fall away from it. You know it’s going to happen. He told you he wants to fuck you through your orgasm, so you know you’re about to be denied three times in a row.

You feel it, again. Your clit becoming more and more needy as his fingertips swirl around it. Your back starts to arch, preparing for a climax that’s not going to happen. You push his hand away on instinct, already accustomed to being denied your high. The quick movement of your hand takes you both by surprise.

You keep a firm grip as your fingers lock around his hand, keeping it held hovered above your pussy. Your eyes flutter closed. You know you can’t take another round of this … whatever it is. Fucking torture.

“You learn fast.” He remarks, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly, your orgasm slipping away from you for the third time.

“Please, let me cum.” You plead with him.

“Here, get up.” He helps you to your feet as you stand on weak, shaking legs.

You get up, feeling just how wet you are at the apex of your thighs as they press together for the first time since he pulled you onto his lap. They move together, sticky, as you pad around to face him.

He’s spread out across the chair, just as he was earlier when you saw him. The only difference is the huge bulge in his trousers, and the wet spot - evidence of the messiness between your legs.

He dips his hand below the loose waistband of his trousers, pumping himself without you being able to fully see. With his other hand he pulls you by your hips onto his lap, facing him this time. You place your knees in the free space left on the throne on either side of his legs. You reach your hand to meet his in his trousers and feel how big he is for yourself.

Your hand can barely wrap around his girth. You give him a hard tug, making him grunt. It’s like music to your ears. Finally getting to hear the noises he makes, instead of him pulling the sounds out of you as he denies you. He twitches in your hand as you free him from the confines of his trousers.

And if you couldn’t feel it in your hand, you fucking see it. He’s huge. You bite your lip, anticipating the difficulty you’re going to have letting him fuck you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone this big before, let alone let them inside you.

You look up at him, seeing how smug he looks knowing you’re gobsmacked. He knows he’s impressive. Just knows you’ve never seen a cock that big. He probably knows you’re going to find it hard to take, too.

So you’re determined to take it. And you’re so fucking ready to cum. You need it.

You rise up on your knees, lining him up with your entrance. You're wet enough, but even the nudge of his head against your opening makes your mouth fall open. He pulses in your hand as you stay there, trying to let your cunt adjust to the intrusion.

The way he stretches your tight hole makes it sting. But you can’t help but think it feels fucking amazing - he fills you so well as you sink down onto him. A different kind of pain and pleasure mixture than when his big, warm hands were caressing your shoulders and chest, earlier. It’s not warm and soft like that, it’s blazing hot and fiery, perfect around him as he throbs.

Your hands find their way back onto his chest, confident that he won’t slip out of you by accident. You move up and down on just the top half of his length, taking yourself further down with every jolt of your hips.

The hands on your hips still you as you move down on him. “Do you want me deeper?” He pushes his hips up, nudging his cock further into you by a mere fraction. “Tell me, is that what you want? You need me to fill you?”

Fucking of course it’s what you want, you want to feel him all the way inside you. You want to be able to feel him when you walk tomorrow. You’re just nervous at having to take all of him. “Yes, just go slow.”

He stays holding your hips, lifting his hips up to push into you. He loves watching it. Loves how it feels. How your tight heat clenches around him as he pushes into you. He takes it slow, like you asked, gently lowering you back onto him a little as he watches himself move inside you. You’re almost there and he thrusts the rest of the way into you, burying himself to the hilt.

You mewl, completely filled by him now. You roll your hips against him, feeling every time his head moves against your walls and nudges against your cervix.

“F-Fuck. Bjorn -“ you begin.

He feels your thighs clenching on either side of him, a sign that you’re about to cum. “Do it.” He says. “Cum for me.”

The relief washes over you just as your orgasm does. Your body jolts forward, unable to hold yourself up anymore. You cum hard. So hard. He feels his cock get flooded with more of your arousal as you squeeze him with the flexing muscles in your cunt. Your eyes roll back as you hold yourself against him for security, clutching onto him hoping to ground yourself against something.

He keeps moving his hips against your writhing ones, dragging his cock inside you. It makes you scream. The sound gets muffled against his clothed chest as you crumple into a spent heap on him.

You feel more than hear the guttural moans that escape Bjorn as he feels you coming undone so hard on his lap. The sounds reverberate in his chest underneath you and he holds you close to him. You nuzzle into his chest, letting him take over the movement to chase his peak now that you’ve reached yours.

He meets virtually no resistance from your cunt now, easing in and out with your slick and the slackness that came with your orgasm. He thrusts a few times before starting to hammer into you with zero remorse.

You try to thrash out, but he’s holding you so tight against his chest that there’s nowhere for you to go.

“You didn’t think I was only going to let you cum once, did you?” He growls into your ear. “You worked so hard, you deserve one more.”

Your arms are trapped under the weight of your upper body, all of which is held flush against him as his arms wrap around you. He holds you in place as he brutally fucks up into you, his skin slapping against yours and making the filthiest smacking noises that echo around the empty room.

You relax against him, feeling every inch he buries into you and letting yourself be carried away by the euphoric way he’s making you feel. You swear, no one’s ever made you feel like this.

He notices the way you go slightly limp against him, using the opportunity to keep one arm around you and wedging the other between the two of you. There’s just enough room for him to reach his middle finger up to stroke over your clit in perfect time with his thrusts.

There’s no sound that escapes your mouth when you open it to cry out. Only a hoarse, throaty moan that gets caught somewhere. Tears form at the corners of your eyes as you feel another peak approaching. It’s debilitating. Your cunt's been teased so many times and then allowed to cum, it’s as if it doesn’t know how to deal with the oncoming climax. You clench, drawing higher and higher and higher, waiting to be dropped down to your pleasure.

When you cum, it’s even more brutal than the time before. He has no consideration for your spasming body as his pace never falters, only becoming even easier for him to fuck you now with two orgasms worth of your cum to guide him.

You cry his name out, begging him to cum soon. You don’t know how much more of his savage, relentless thrusts you can take.

“P-perfect. So good.” He replies, losing himself in chasing his high. He can feel himself getting closer. And the way your pussy gets so wet and how you clench so hard around him. Gods, he’s surprised he didn’t cum with you. He has always prided himself on his ability to last, though. “W-won’t - fuck - won’t be long. Want to cum in this cunt.”

Fucking please, you think. You want to feel him fill you in the only way he hasn’t yet.

His movements begin to falter ever-so-slightly, so you know he means it when he says he’s close. He tries to get a few more good, deep thrusts into you before he cums. He lasts for maybe five or six more.

Everything about him is big and excessive. Big hands, broad shoulders, big cock. And even his fucking load is huge. He pushes into you as he spurts his cum, feeling it drip down his cock and drilling it back into you as he tries to keep fucking you while he cums.

He sounds so good moaning in your ear, louder than he’s been moaning this entire time. The noises he makes are gorgeous - low, husky groans right next to you.

He drops his hips down, but even still half his length is still buried inside you. You feel his cum leak out of you, probably mixed with some of your own wetness. And he, in turn, feels it run down his cock, dripping down onto his balls.

You’re both left breathless and completely exhausted. He rests on the chair, one of his arms still haphazardly thrown around you, the other hanging over the arm of the throne. You lie on top of him, still curling your upper body to huddle into the warmth of his chest.

He clears his throat. “I must confess something." He begins. You lift your head up slightly to look at him. The sweat gleams on his forehead, dripping down from his temples. "I have heard the demands of the Gods. And they demand a queen for Kattegat.”

Your eyes go wide, not that he can see.

“So,” he sweeps the hand on your back upwards, coming to hold your face as he asks you one final question. “How would you like to be Queen?”

#Bjorn ironside x reader #Bjorn ironside x you #Bjorn x reader #Bjorn x you #Bjorn ironside #smut #Bjorn fanfiction #vikings fanfiction

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drakenology · 3 years

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𝐁𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ♡ 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : smut!, daddy kink, violence & mentions of blood, established relationship, dumbification, face slapping (politely), dirty talk, degradation, a pinch of knife play (he just cuts your panties open), exhibitionism, breeding kink, cum, fingering, swearing and size kink if you get a magnifying glass.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Hey sexy bitches. This one’s for my Vice City event. I scrapped so many ideas to get here which is why I extended the due date for it.. Anyways! Enjoy, sluts. Daichi supremacy.

He sat at the bar; tall, dark and handsome. He had this roughness to him, his hands riddled with scars and his face rocking one just above his eyebrow. He was one of your most handsome regulars. He always came in around 12 am on Friday, all blooded up and battered from god knows what. Tonight was no different. You sigh, taking in his strong arm that was now covered in bandage wrapping. You strut over to him, pulling your top up a bit to push up your breasts.

“What can I get ya, handsome?” You ask charmingly. He looks up from his empty glass, his deep brown eyes soaking in your form.

“Whiskey, neat.” He replied, smoky tone of voice vibrating against your ears as you bit your lip.

“Comin’ right up” as you turn and walk away, adjusting your shorts after bending down to get his drink ready. His eyes trailed to your hips where your g-string sat snugly on those hips he often watched sway as you walked by to serve your patrons. Were you always this sexy? He never stopped looking at you as you poured him a drink, leaning over the bar to ask him something.

“I swear every time you come in here you show up with a new injury. This is a bar, not a hospital. What the hell were you doin’?” You question, reaching a soft hand up to his brow as if to try and heal it with your touch. He didn’t even flinch either, almost leaning into your hand like a touch-starved puppy. You grab some napkins and wipe some blood from his leaking nose, tsk-ing at him as he sighed. He knew you’d give him shit.

“Got into this nasty scrap with some gang. One of ‘em tried robbing me.. I showed him why he shouldn’t have. His boys came after me and they caught me off guard. One of ‘em had a knife.” He admits. You flinch, looking at him in awe. What’s this guy into?

“Be careful, Lui Kang.” You tease, sliding a glass of ice over to him from one end of the bar while you took some orders.

Not even a few moments later, someone came up to you at the bar. This sleazy looking man with his hair gelled back so thickly it didn’t move as he craned his head to look you up and down.

“Hey, sweetface. Get me a drink, will ya?” His voice like a natural irritant. You turn to him and take his order, your protective regular watching him closely as he sipped his drink. He hardly knew you; just some girl who worked at the sleazy bar he always finds himself licking his wounds in after a scrap. Still, you were always so nice to him; greeting him with a pretty smile, a cold drink and a conversation. He was just so used to violence, fighting for everything he has. He was grateful to have just one ray of sunshine. Vice City, nor his life had ever granted him that luxury.

As you serve the man his drink, he takes a sip and makes this repugnant face.

“Women. Not even good for making a man a fuckin’ decent drink.” He snaps, tossing the drink towards your direction; the glass almost hitting you. You scream as the glass shatters against the wall, your regular standing from his stool to give him a piece of his mind.

“Fuck’s your problem, tough guy?” He spits at him, grunting when a fist suddenly meets the bridge of his nose. The thud causes you to jump, staring at the scene with wide eyes as your heart slammed against your chest. Of course you were no stranger to bar fights, but this? How could one man make violence look so tempting. You gasp as you watch him pick that grease ball up by his shirt and practically toss him out the doors of the pub.

“Fuck off home, before I decide to kill you.”

He takes his seat back at the bar to find you cleaning up the mess, noticing your startled and clumsy movements from shock.

“You okay?” He asked, concerned. You nod. As tough as you try to front to be, you were scared shitless. Though this wouldn’t be the first nor last asshole to grace your bar.

“I can handle myself, ya know?”, putting up a front that you didn’t need his help. You were grateful. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Remind me not to interfere, miss independent.” You stare into his deep chocolate brown eyes and lean closer to him.

“What, am I supposed to thank you now?” You tease, taking a cherry and sticking it in your mouth.

“It’d be nice.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow at you. You giggle, leaning over to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek as a token of gratitude.

“Thanks.”

After that fateful day, you and Daichi were attached at the hip. He brought you everywhere with him as if his scene was safe and tidy. Most nights consisted of dressing his wounds after watching him roughhouse at his fight club. You never minded caring for him since you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat.

The life he lived, the way he made his money just to get by was terrifying and... exciting. You always came with him for his matches whenever someone had bet big money on him or if some assholes wanna settle a score. You always stood in the loud crowd as they watched, beer bottles and cigarettes littering the concrete ground. Daichi told you to always wear his name chain so that the guys knew who you belonged to, those dudes can get real handsy and Daichi would hate to have to hurt a friend. God, you were such a distraction. Daichi stared at you almost too long; dodging a swing of a knife as he took his opponent down with his bare hands. The crowd smashed more glass against any nearby surface to celebrate, the other half of the crowd booing and hissing.

After he was declared the winner, he got his cut of the bet in cold hard cash; about a nice $200,000. Boy was he frisky after that. His big hands stayed planted right on your ass as he walked you both out and onto the streets to walk home. Your walks were always so peaceful after the boisterous and rowdy night. But tonight, Daichi wanted to claim the second part of his prize. He swiftly scooped you up in his arms, sitting you atop a car parked on the side of the steady street. He pulled his knife out from his back pocket, spreading your legs with his palm.

“Better not make a fucking sound, baby. ‘Else everyone’s gonna hear how much of a whore you are for your daddy.” He grunts, taking the blade to cut your panties apart by the crotch from under your skirt. Your pussy was now on full display for him and quite possibly the ongoing traffic driving by. You shudder as the cold breeze hits your bare skin, looking at him with doe eyes - only making him want you more.

“What? Don’t act like you don’t want it like this, babe.” his voice thick with lust as his thick finger reach up to pinch your nipples through your thin top. “God, look at these.” as his hands grope and squeeze the softness of your breasts. You’re moaning into the air as his lips kiss your neck feverishly, taking your top and lifting it up over your breasts.

“You want my dick don’t you, baby?” He whispers into your ear, your thighs starting to tremble just at the low, brassy tone of his voice. You nod, your cunt fluttering as it starts to drip with slick. Your obedience has him feeling firm, the brunt side of his hard cock starting to grind against you through his jeans. You gasp, Daichi’s hands still pinching and teasing your nipples as his hips grind to make you feel good. You start moving your own hips to follow his movements, Daichi groaning as he watched you try and get yourself off.

“Look at you humpin’ me like a little bitch in heat.” He spat, a whimper leaving your mouth as you start getting desperate. His hands stop your hips in place, his eyes seemingly dilated with a dark appearance.

“Take it out since you want it so bad.. yeah, put it in for me. Work for it, slut.” He demands, tapping your cheek to keep your eyes focused on his. He slaps the other side of your face as he snapped his hips, this chubby cock seemingly splitting you open as you cry out. He starts off brutally, as if he weren’t railing you out in public in the middle of the night on some stranger’s car. You weren’t making the scene any more discreet with all your pathetic groans, your hands pulling at his shirt to hold onto something. Your mind became cloudy, panting and sobbing like a real whore. Daichi’s just enjoying the sight of you ruined underneath him, slapping you in the face once more to snap you back from your daydream causing you to gasp. The sting faded as his hand went to stroke the blow with his thumb, the rest of his hand lifting your chin.

“Look at me. Don’t cum until I say so, got it? I feel your greedy cunt sucking me up already.” He says, thumb pressing up against your clit just to make it harder for you to contain yourself. You feel your walls squeeze him, whimpering with every vein of this cock sliding in and out of your walls so addictively. Your hands claw at his back, drooling into his shoulder as you start trying to grind your hips to change the pace. He grunts and holds you still as he slides his thick cock in and out of you slower to tease you, smirking when you start to cry.

“Pl-Please go faster, Da-Daddy, please, I can’t-” You whine, interrupted by a harsh slap to your outer thigh causing you to yelp.

“You can and you will. Daddy’s almost there, c’mon. You don’t want me to punish you out here, do you?” He coos, opening your mouth by squishing your cheeks together, spitting on your tongue and tapping your chin. You shake your head and try your best to take him for a little while longer, your slick oozing all over the hood of the car you were pinned to. As your eyes roll back, you feel Daichi’s cock start to throb intensely, a sign he was close. Relief was soon to come.

“G’head and cum for daddy, baby. Want you throbbing for me, c’mon, you wanted to cum so bad.” Daichi urged, swiftly flicking your clit to help you. You cum in a flash, white lights shining behind your eyes as you scream his name. Seconds later he fills you, pumping his hot seed into your pussy before pulling out to watch it spill out onto the cold metal of the car.

“Sloppy little whore.” He spits, taking his fingers to scoop it up and shove it inside you, pumping his fingers to secure it inside. You pant, your thighs trembling as Daichi hoists you up on his back to carry you the rest of the way home.

Your eyes close, humming as you lean into his shoulder. A silent “I love you”. The walk was silent and safe, dozing off on Daichi’s shoulder as he trudged through the mean streets of the neighborhood you both lived in.

#haikyuu!! smut #daichi sawamura #daichi smut #haikyuu hinata #haikyuu smut #.club specials 💗💋#.vice city 🎲

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tyongxnct · 3 years

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𝑠𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 - 𝑊𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑎𝑠

pairing: Lucas x reader

special guest: Ten, Xiaojun, Hendery, mention of Jaehyun

summary: you fell for him, and you fell hard. You knew that you’d fall for him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop seeing Yukhei. He was heartbroken and you filled that empty space with your body. Whenever he was drunk, he called you and treated you like a queen but when he was sober, he was distant and hated it when you got too close. It didn’t matter that you were jealous and heartbroken every time he pushed you away, Yukhei only cared for his feelings.

song: sober - Selena Gomez

genre: fwb!au, angst, smut

warnings: smut, alcohol consumption, swearing

word count: 5,6k

A/N: I hope you enjoy reading this one!! This is the third story of my series and I’m so excited to share this with you! I recommend you to listen to sober by Selena Gomez while reading!!

We fall for each other at the wrong time Only for a moment, but I don't mind Guess I don't know where to draw the line, the line, the line We're playing the same game every night

You met Lucas when he was fresh out of a relationship. It was at a party, your mutual friend Xiaojun was celebrating his birthday, and Lucas caught your eye the second you entered Xiaojun’s apartment. Everyone was having fun, red cups filled with alcohol and bodies dancing with each other and there he was, a boy with a cup in his hand and eyes on the floor, deep in thoughts. While everyone was having fun, he just wanted to get wasted and then leave, but his honey like skin and beautiful big eyes attracted you.

“Are you just going to keep staring at me?”

You bumped into his chest after you left the bathroom. You looked up and your eyes met Lucas’. He was right, you were staring at him the entire time, sometimes your eyes met, and you started a staring competition until you lost because his eyes were intimidating. He was so close to you and his hand slowly wandered to your waist. He smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t mind. Drunk or not, you wanted him. “What do you want me to do instead?” you whispered. “I want your pretty mouth around my cock.” The sexual tension between you two was almost suffocating, you wanted him, and he wanted you. Your hand travelled between his legs, softly palming his crotch. “I don’t even know your name.”

“My name’s Lucas, y/n.” he looked at you. “How do you know my name?” you asked. “I asked Xiaojun.” And then he leaned down and pressed his lips on yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth as you moaned, his hand squeezed your ass and he left hot open mouth kisses on your lips. Lucas pressed you against the door, his knee right between your legs. Your fingers were playing with his hair as he started kissing your neck. When he started sucking and kissing your sensitive skin, you moaned his name.

Next thing you knew, he pulled you out of Xiaojun’s apartment and he pulled his keys to enter the apartment on the other side of the hallway. “Do you live here?” you asked. “Yeah. Xiaojun’s my neighbor.” He pushed you in his apartment and closed the door. You looked through his apartment, it was clean and simple. You turned to him, his eyes were all over your body. He licked his lips, “Take of your skirt and shirt.” He demanded. You slowly stripped out of your clothes, eyes never leaving his. “Get on your knees.”

You obeyed. You were now on your knees, only in your matching black lace underwear. Lucas stepped forward and stopped right in front of you. Your hands unbuckled his jeans and without a second thought, you pulled his jeans and boxer down. His cock was semi-hard, your make out session earlier turned him on, but he wanted your mouth on his cock, not on his mouth.

“Show me how you suck a dick, baby.”

You smirked as you wrapped your fingers around his cock. It wasn’t even fully hard and but still, it was big. You pumped his cock up and down and slowly licked his tip.

“Don’t tease.” He growled. With that, you put his cock in your mouth and started bopping your head until it hit the back of your throat. “Fuck.” He moaned as you sped up. One of your hands softly played with his balls, and you kept sucking his dick and you could feel him twitch in your mouth, he was almost there. “Fuck my mouth.” You said. “You want me to fuck your pretty mouth? ?” he started fucking your throat, his hand held you by your hair. “Fuck.” He moaned. “Fuck fuck fuck, want my cum? Huh? You’re doing so good baby. Such a good girl for me.” You moaned, signaling him that you wanted his cum. “I want to cum on your face baby. Can I fucking cum on your pretty face?” you moaned again,

He took his cock in his hand and started pumping, his cock twitched, and he came all over your face. You opened your mouth wide, you wanted to taste him too. With your finger, you collected the cum on your face and you put in your mouth.

Lucas pulled you up and carried you to his room, he threw you on his bed. He took off your panties and bra and while he played with your nipple with one hand, he slowly put his finger on your clit. You were so wet, his finger slipped inside of you easily. With two fingers he started pumping in and out of you and his mouth was on your nipple, he was licking and sucking. You moaned, his long fingers hit the right spot. “Fuck.”

He stopped playing with your nipples and got on his knees right in front of your pussy. You opened your legs wider as he started licking you wet pussy with his tongue. He put his tongue on your clit and played with it, his two fingers, now three, were back inside of you and with his fingers and his tongues, you could feel your climax coming. “Fuck Lucas- feels so good.” You closed your eyes as he fastened his pace and he ate you so good, you came on his tongue. “I’m cuming, shit, fuck it feels so good.”

You were coming down from your high when Lucas already put on a condom and was about to enter you. “Gonna destroy this pussy.” And he did. Lucas thrusted into you, it’s been a little since you fucked someone, it didn’t hurt but it did stretch you. “Fuck.” You moaned as he kept thrusting into you. He sucked on your nipples as and your hands were on his hair. He let go of you breast and wrapped his hand around your neck, he lightly squeezed your neck, and it was so hot you clenched around him. “You like that, don’t you?”

Lucas turned you around, you ass was up in the air as he rammed his cock again inside you again. His hand on your waist tightened as he fucked you deep and when you felt his finger on your clit, circling it, you lost your mind. “Fuck! I’m gonna cum.”

He pulled you against his chest, one hand was around you, kneading your breast and playing with your nipple, the other one was still on your clit as he still fucked you, deeper and faster. “Cum. Cum on my cock.” You reached your climax and clenched around his cock, he also reached his climax and filled up the condom.

That was the best sex you’ve ever had, and you were so exhausted, and still drunk, you fell asleep. Lucas, also still drunk, was still able to clean you up before he fell asleep next to you.

Up in the clouds Yeah, you know how to make me want you When we come down Oh, I know, yeah I know, it's over

Your relationship with Lucas had no title. You’ve been hanging out a lot in the last 4 months and you also had sex with him whenever you wanted. Everything was going perfectly fine. Until you met her, his ex-girlfriend. Jealousy bloomed in you and you didn’t know why.

“Hey, you know that girl?” you asked him as you watched him watch her, his ex, dancing and grinding against a guy. “Yeah,” Lucas was angry and sad. He still loved his ex, he missed her, and you were the perfect replacement for her, but you didn’t know that. “My ex.”

“You still love her, don’t you?” you asked him even though you knew the answer. He nodded and looked at you. Lucas was drunk, really drunk. You were at a party with him and his ex was also there, she looked at his direction and Lucas felt her eyes on him. He didn’t think about his next action, he just did it, and with that he pulled your face closer and kissed you. Your tongues were fighting for dominance as his arms wrapped around your waist. He pulled you on his lap and kissed your neck, you were drunk, and you didn’t care about the people around you, but Lucas did. He cared about his ex, he wanted her to watch him kiss and touch you.

The worst part is, as much as you tried to stop yourself from falling for him, you still did. You fell in love with Lucas.

You don't know how to love me when you're sober When the bottle's done, you pull me closer You're saying all the things that you're supposed to But you don't know how to love me when you're sober

He was always drunk whenever you had sex with him. You tried to kiss him sober, but he pushed you away, said that he wasn’t in the mood, but he was never in the mood when he was sober. He saw you as a friend whenever he was sober and when he was drunk, you were his slut in bed who sucked his cock. There was always a distance between you two, you acted like friends, but you knew that you wanted to be more than friends, more than friends with benefits. You only felt loved when he fucked you, the way he kissed you and told you how beautiful you were, you fell for it.

“You’re so pretty, my pretty baby. I love your pussy so much. Are you going to let me fuck that little sweet pussy of yours? Hm baby? Answer me.” Lucas licked your clit over and over again and you came on his tongue, you grabbed the sheets and cried out in pleasure. “Fuck! Yes please! Fuck me, Lucas please.”

Lucas hovered above you and entered your pussy. “So big, Lucas.” You moaned, as he thrusted into you. “You love my cock, don’t you baby. You love how I make you cum.”

“Yes! Yes, I love it so much, please fuck me harder- Fuck!” and he did, he fucked you so hard that night, you almost forgot your own name. He turned you around and fucked you from behind, his favorite position to fuck you nice and deep. “You want my cum? You want me to fill you up?” you felt your second orgasm coming, “Yes! Please fill me up! I need your cum Lucas!” he slapped your ass with his big hand, making you scream in pleasure. “You like that, huh? You like being fucked like the slut you are. A slut who lets me fuck her whenever I want. Who owns this cunt?” you clenched around him as you felt his cock twitch inside your pussy, he was close and so were you. “You! Y-You own me. Fuck Lucas I’m cuming.” And with that you reached your orgasm, you clenched around him and he filled you up with his cum as he moaned your name.

Like every time after sex, he cleaned you up as you fell asleep, your body was exhausted, and you just wanted to sleep. After cleaning you up, he covered your bodies with the blanket and pulled you closer.

Why is it so different when we wake up? Same lips, same kiss, but not the same touch Don't you know that you doing just enough, but not enough But I know what's next, and I want so much

You woke up in his arms the next morning. Lucas was still sleeping, he looked like an angel. With your thumb, you stroked his cheek and slowly travelled to his beautiful full lips. Lucas slowly woke up and you pulled your hand away. “Morning.” He mumbled. “Good morning.” You said back. He looked so cute and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing his lips. He pushed you back softly, “I told you not to do that.” He said annoyed. “Sorry.”

Lucas got up and entered the bathroom. You were scrolling through your phone when he came back. “The boys are coming over.” He showered, his body was still wet, he looked hot. Lucas sat down next to you. With your hand, you stroked his biceps and then your hand landed on his abs.. You were still naked underneath the blanket. “What are you doing?” he asked, you didn’t answer him as your hand travelled to his crotch. “Want to go for another round?”

He gripped your wrist, “I told you not to that.” He said strictly and pushed your arm off. “You can stay If you want to, but don’t do shit like that.”

With a sigh, you left his bed entered his shower. Lucas never wanted to be touched when he was sober, there was no morning sex or anything, not as long as he was sober. Staying the night was also something new, except for your first time, all the times after you had to leave his place, there was no sleeping together, but after you got closer as friends, he acted like a gentleman and let you stay, he didn’t want anything bad happen to you late at night on your way back home.

After you showered, you changed to his black shirt, and your jeans, you couldn’t find your bra and your own shirt. “Lucas do you know where my bra is?” you yelled as you left his bedroom. When you locked eyes with three guys, none of them Lucas, you got shy. Xiaojun, Hendery and Ten were already there. “Well, that was awkward.” Ten said as he looked at you. “Hi guys.” You crossed your arms in front of your boobs, “Where’s Lucas?”

“Kitchen.” The three of them said at the same time.

Up in the clouds Yeah, you know how to make me want you When we come down Oh, I know, yeah I know, it's over

Lucas told you that he didn’t know where your bra was, he was cooking for you and his friends, a simple breakfast. You went back to his room and looked everywhere, your last chance was under the bed, you looked, and you found it, but your shirt was still gone. You stayed in his shirt and when you were about to leave his room, you heard the guys and Lucas talking about you.

“I don’t think that this is a good idea.” Ten said.

“Why? It’s not like she loves me.” Lucas shrugged his shoulders. “You don’t know that. Why don’t you forget about your stupid ex and start something new- with y/n for example. Don’t you like her?” Xiaojun asked. “First of all, my ex is not stupid. And second, I do like her- like I like you guys, just as a friend.”

“Yeah but you don’t fuck us.” Ten softly slapped Lucas’s head.

“Look, Yuqi still loves me, okay? We’re just on a break or something. We love each other, it’s just about time she comes back to me and until then, I’ll fuck y/n; end of the story.” Lucas really thought that Yuqi would come back to him.

It hurt you, to hear it from him, that you were just a replacement. You knew it. You knew it when he called out her name in bed, or when he scrolled through her Instagram.

“And what are you going to tell y/n?” Hendery asked him. “There is nothing to say, we’ll just stop fucking and stay friends. You should’ve seen Yuqi’s face at Jaehyun’s party when I kissed y/n. She was so jealous, y/n will help me get her back.”

“You are an asshole.” Ten didn’t like the way Lucas treated you, “Whatever, let’s eat before it gets cold. y/n! Breakfast is ready!” Lucas shouted, but you stood still. You put on your fake smile and entered the living room. “Yeah, uhm, sorry but I gotta go.” Before he could ask you where you were going, you had left.

Your heart hurt, you wanted to punch yourself that you loved him even though he used you. Why was it so hard for you to leave him behind and stop having sex with him? Why did he act like he loved you when you had sex? Why didn’t he just stop loving Yuqi and loved you instead?

You don't know how to love me when you're sober When the bottle's done, you pull me closer You're saying all the things that you're supposed to But you don't know how to love me when you're sober

You were at a party, this time with Sunmi, your best friend. It was your first time after a couple of months going out with her and without Lucas. You didn’t tell him that you were going out with Sunmi, you also didn’t know that he’d be also here.

“Let’s get wasted.” You said as you entered the kitchen with Sunmi. You took two shots and then you filled your cups. Sunmi told you to get laid, but you could only think about Lucas. “Babe, you can’t get him out of there,” she pointed at your heart, “If you can’t get another dick in there.” She pointed at your pussy now. “But I only want his dick.” You pouted. “C’mon, try another dick for tonight, I’ll find you the best dick at this party, okay?” You nodded, even though your mind still wandered to Lucas.

After an hour of drinking and drinking, you were dancing with Sunmi. Everything was turning but you were having so much fun, you almost forgot about him, but when your eyes met his, everything around you stopped moving. “I’ll be right back.” You couldn’t dance with his gaze on you. Why was he watching you in the first place? What were you going to do now? Say hi? Ignore him? You decided to ignore him, and it also seemed like he was ignoring you. You left the dancefloor and sat down on the couch. The seat next to you was empty, until someone decided to approach you.

“What is pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” a guy asked you. He was hot. “Who says I’m alone?” you asked. “Well, I saw you with your friend, but I think she’s a little distracted right now.” He pointed to your left and you saw Sunmi making out with a random guy. “So, you’ve been watching me?”

“Yeah, you caught my eye.” He placed his hand on your knee, you looked at his hand and then back at the handsome stranger. “Is that okay?” he asked. You nodded and after talking to him for a while, his hand travelled higher on your bare thigh. The short skirt you were wearing barely covered you.

“Do you want to go somewhere… more private?” he softly squeezed your flesh and before you could say anything, someone gripped his wrist and pushed it away.

This someone, was Lucas. “She’s not going anywhere.”

You looked at him in confusion, “Excuse me?” you said. “Y/n were leaving. Now.” Lucas said through gritted teeth. “Hey, dude what the fuck?” that guy said and pushed Lucas a little. “Yeah, Lucas. What the fuck?” you also asked. Why was he behaving like that? He was obviously drunk again, the smell of alcohol was so strong. None of your friends were near you, you had to manage a drunk Lucas on your own. He would never do such thing sober.

“Hands off my girlfriend. Y/n I said we’re leaving.” He softly gripped your wrist and pulled you after him.

His girlfriend? Since when were you his girlfriend? Was he jealous? Why would he be jealous?

You were with him in the elevator on the way to his apartment. Your arms were crossed in front of your chest and you looked at the floor. No words were exchanged since you left the party. “You look really beautiful.” He blurred out. You didn’t say anything back. How could you? You were confused like never before. He was jealous and he told you that you looked beautiful in one day? “Why did you go between us?” you asked after you entered his apartment.

This time, he didn’t answer you. Instead, he pressed your back against the door and kissed you hungrily.

I know I should leave, I know I should, should, should But your love's too good, your love's too good, good, good I know I should leave, I know I should, should, should But your love's too good, your love's too good, good, good Yeah

Lucas’s hands were all over your body, like his lips. He sucked on your neck, leaving red marks. Wet kisses on your lips, he couldn’t get enough, and he loved how your body reacted. You moaned as his hand squeezed your ass, with his other hand, he pulled down your skirt, he almost ripped it.

“Why did you even were this skirt huh? It’s so fucking short, everyone could see your fucking ass, and that ass is only mine to see.” With one swift move, he pulled your top over your head, you weren’t wearing a bra. “Not even a fucking bra. You wanted everyone to see your fucking tits? This body is mine, no one else is allowed to see your perfect ass,” he squeezed it again, a little stronger now, “Or your perfect tits.” He started sucking on your nipple, you moaned, it felt so good.

“L-Lucas, more please.”

“Did you want him to fuck you?” his voice was loud. You didn’t answer.

With his hands, he ripped your panties and you closer your legs, but he put his knee between your legs and pushed them apart. His fingers were on your pussy, without any warning, he thrusted two fingers into you. “Lucas!” you moaned out. He fucked you with his fingers, fast and deep. “Answer me or I won’t make you cum. Did you want to fuck him?!”

“N-No…” you closed your eyes, he curled his fingers and hit the right spot. “Fuck!”

“You’re lying baby. Am I not enough for you? Huh? You need another dick? Like a slut?” he licked your nipple with his tongue and slowed down. “L-Lucas please! I don’t need another dick, I just want you! Please make me cum!” and that was the truth. You only wanted him, no one else.

“Okay baby, I love making you cum, so cum.” He thrusted fingers faster than before and with his mouth on your nipples, you came on his fingers. “Fuck- it feels so good.” Your legs hurt, you couldn’t stand right, and Lucas carried you to his bedroom. “I’ll fuck you so good, you’ll never think of any other cock.”

And he did, he fucked you like he never fucked you before.

“L-Lucas fuck fuck fuck!” his grip around your hair tightened as he fucked you from behind. He pressed your body down on the mattress as he thrusted. His other hand was on your ass, smacking it and making you moan even louder. “I’m gonna c-cum Lucas!” he turned you around and faced you. He put your leg on his shoulder as he thrusted even deeper now, “Want to see you pretty face when you cum, baby. I love it so much.” You clenched around him as your fourth orgasm of the night hit you like a tsunami. He overstimulated you with his thumb on your clit, circling it and making you lose your mind.

Marks everywhere on your body, bruises on your ass and on your hips. You put your legs around his hips to pull him closer, he was so close.

“Fuck, gonna fill you up, baby.” His face was in the crook of your neck, placing wet kisses as you clenched again, and he exploded in you. “Fuck I love you. Fuck!” He moaned out, without thinking what he was saying.

He said I love you.

He really said I love you.

Why did he say I love you?

You don't know how to love me when you're sober When the bottle's done, you pull me closer You're saying all the things that you're supposed to But you don't know how to love me when you're sober

You couldn’t sleep at all that night, he was fast asleep next to you, chest going up and down. Your head hurt, you were thinking too much. You need to sleep, you need to- Lucas wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you closer, like he always does when you sleep in his bed with him. He was softly breathing against your neck as you tried to fall asleep. You tried so hard, but with him next to you and his words in your head, falling asleep that night was impossible.

You were still awake when Lucas woke up. He looked at you, eyes open. “Hi.” He stretched his arms and got up. “Hey.” Did he know what happened last night? “Sorry- I couldn’t clean you up last night.” He apologized. “You can take a shower. I’ll make breakfast.” And then he left you alone, like he always did.

After showering and changing clothes, you entered his kitchen. He was deep in thoughts as you watched him. Did he remember?

“I’m going on a date with Yuqi tonight.” He said bluntly, with his back to you.

“What?”

He’s going on a date with Yuqi? After last night?

“We’ve been talking for a week now, she wants to try again.”

“Are you kidding me?” you couldn’t believe your ears. “No, and about last night-“

“You said you love me!” you yelled, “You can’t say you love me and go on a date with someone else!” He turned to you. “It was just because of the moment- it slipped, I didn’t mean to say it.” He looked at you, but you vision was blurry, tears blocking your sight. “What the fuck?! You- why did you fucking do it?! Why did you take me here last night! I was with someone else and your fucking jealous ass interrupted me! Why?!” you let your tears fall down.

“I just wanted to fuck you one last time before I end things.” You hated him, you didn’t think that it was possible, but you hated him so much. “Y-You’re an asshole! You just use me, tell me you love me, and you stop me from fucking other people?! You told him that I was your fucking girlfriend! What is wrong with you?!”

“I love Yuqi, not you. I told you that-“

“I don’t fucking care! I love you and you used my love until that bitch who broke your heart comes back! Why would you do that to me?!” Lucas looked to the floor, “I told you I don’t want anything serious with you. Yes, I used you to make Yuqi jealous, but you knew that I love her!” he yelled back.

“You have no right, no fucking right after everything you said and did last night to say that you love her. You-, fuck, I was trying to move on after I heard you and the boys talking about me. I knew that I had to move on, but you acted like I mean something to you, you made me feel loved! Why?! Why can’t you love me? Why her? ” you were sobbing, you didn’t get it, nothing made sense.

“I-I don’t know okay?!”

“I hate you so much, Lucas. I don’t want to see you ever again, and we both know, she’ll leave you again, because you’re an asshole.”

You looked on last time at him with tears and pain in your eyes and confusion in his before you left.

You've got a hold on me You're like a wasted dream I gave you everything But you don't know how to love me when you're sober

You loved him, even after weeks, you still loved him.

You missed him, even after everything he had done to you, you still missed him.

“Come on, y/n. Stop thinking about him. Let’s go to that party, you need to have some fun.” Sunmi insisted. “I don’t know, what If he’s there?” It was a party of one of your mutual friends. “With her?”

“Who cares about his stupid face and her stupid face? Show him that you don’t need him. Show him what he lost.” You were scared of seeing them together, but she had a point. Who needs Lucas?

You did, you need Lucas.

You should’ve stayed at home.

He was alone, your eyes met his.

“Y/n! I’ve missed you! It’s been so long, and I’m sorry- he told us what happened, and I hate him for that.” Ten hugged you. “It’s fine, I don’t really care anymore.”

“You can lie to yourself but not to me, honey. But don’t waste your time with him, you deserve better.” Ten smiled genuinely at you. “I guess you’re right.” You said, eyes still locked with Lucas’s. “I’ll get myself something to drink. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah sure, don’t get too wasted though.” With a nod you left his side and entered the kitchen. You need to get distracted and the best distraction is alcohol, right? With a cup in your left hand, you walked up the stairs to enter the bathroom. You tried to avoid Lucas at all costs, and you thought you did a good job, until you turned the knob on the door, and it wasn’t locked, so you entered. What you didn’t think you’d see was Lucas looking at the mirror, he gripped both sides of the sink and he was crying.

He looked at you through the mirror. Lucas wiped his tears away and turned around to look at you. “Y-You look so beautiful.” He stuttered. “Why are you crying?” you ignored his comment. You shouldn’t be here all alone with him, you really shouldn’t. But your heart told you to stay with him and comfort him. It hurt you to see him cry. You closed the door and leaned against it, leaving a distance between you and Lucas.

“S-She broke up with me. Again. And then… and then I saw you and I-I just miss you so much.” His voice trembled, just like his hands. Lucas looked at the floor, he felt like a stupid pussy. Crying in front of you like a baby because his girlfriend broke up even though he knew how you felt, how much you loved him.

“You miss me or her?” you asked straightforward. You knew the answer, you just wanted to know what he’d say.

“You! I miss you…”

He missed you, but he loves her. You knew, no matter what, he’d never love you the way you love him, and maybe, just maybe, you were selfish enough to stay with him, just for one last night.

You entered his apartment after months and nothing had changed. You felt like you had never left. Lucas almost stumbled over his own feet, still drunk and not clear in mind. But he knew he wanted you, he needed you right now as much as you needed him.

Lucas was hovering above you, his arms on each side of your head. He kissed your lips, your forehead, your nose, and your cheeks. He kissed every inch of your face and body. This time, he took his time. No rough sex, no teasing and playing around. His lips pressed against yours and his hands gripping your tights to wrap your leges around him.

Heavy breathing, wet kisses and soft moans were the only sounds in the room. No words exchanged.

Lucas was kissing you with so much passion this time, you got drunk on his lips. He kissed you slowly and it was so so fucking good. He entered you, skipping foreplay, you were definitely wet enough. Chest against chest, lips on lips and hands intertwined as he thrusted into you. Not too slow but also not too fast, he still hit the right spot and he was deep and stretched you out perfectly. You moaned in his mouth, his tongue slipped into your mouth and danced with yours.

His lips travelled from your lips, to your jaw and he stopped on your neck, softly kissing and nibbing on your skin. He left marks, he loved to leave marks on your perfect body.

He thrusted a little faster now, you were so close. Lucas’s mouth was on your breasts now, sucking on your nipples as they hardened, it felt so good, you squeezed his hand. Your orgasm hit you so hard, and the way you clenched around him made him cum.

Lucas kissed your body as you calmed down from that intense orgasm. He pulled out slowly and left to get a warm towel to wipe away his cum of your legs. After cleaning you up, like he always did, he pulled you in his arms and hugged you until you fell asleep.

The next morning, Lucas felt cold. He opened his eyes, and your side of the bed was empty. A little note was on your pillow and when Lucas read your last words, he knew that it was over, and that he would never get you back. He never deserved your love and for the first time, he felt his heart breaking. Whatever he had thought he felt after Yuqi broke up with him was nothing compared to his heartbreak right now.

You don’t know how to love me when you’re sober

goodbye

SEQUEL: 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐒 - 𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐬

#lucas angst #yukhei angst #wayv angst #lucas smut #yukhei smut #wayv smut #nct angst #nct smut #lucas x reader #wayv lucas #nct lucas #yukhei x reader #yukhei x you #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #nct2020 #nct songfic #wayv songfic

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miyalove · 4 years

Text

➳˚｡⋆ MUTUAL CONNECTION.

➳ pairing. roommate!kuroo x fem!reader x (slight) terushima

➳ warnings. slight dubcon (kuroo listen’s to reader having sex), voyeurism, swearing, masturbation (male), pining

➳ notes. thank you for 500 followers! here’s a spicy fic to celebrate... if it gets enough love then maybe a part two will be out

2.4k | thinking you were going to be home alone, you decide to invite your favorite fling over to have a good time. surpisingly, you’re not alone and your roommate kuroo is torn between letting you know that or locking himself up in his room to torture himself.

he’s in some deep shit now. the playfully cocky man is grown enough to admit that. as much as he wanted to blame you for his trouble, he’s adult enough to admit that maybe… just maybe, this one is on him. you thought that he was out and with fair reason too. he did text you saying so; ‘late classes. don’t wait up’. only it turned out that his professor had a last minute change of plans because as he got to class, on the door was a note detailing how they were canceled.

it wasn’t much of a sweat for him though. he wouldn’t mind a day home alone with his thoughts. it would allow him to catch up (and even get ahead) in most of his classes so this was basically water under the bridge. instantly, his feelings of serenity changed when you arrived home and not alone either, but with your current prey— terushima.

he was a younger guy compared to kuroo, but not by much. fit, intelligent, a cosmetology major (so he never looked bad) and kuroo knows just how much of a good dude he is in bed too. courtesy of you, of course. every now and then, you’d get into tangents about your flings and terushima was the only one that you had only good things to say about. it wasn’t as if he was jealous though. please, kuroo feels all emotions but he prides himself on not feeling that on. him? jealous? nothing of the sort, really.

he thought you were hot and when the two of you meet for the first time, there was just something that clicked. you got along so well with him like puzzle pieces perfectly slotting together. you two got along so well that since then you were practically attached by the hip. that was nearly a year ago, when you meet. if the circumstances were different he might have made a move on you, but things are complicated now because even if he thinks about what you would look like underneath him; he can’t make a move.

you guys are roommates. he missed his opportunity to have something more once he asked you to move in with him. and you being a broke college student, just like him, happily said yes. it would become awkward if things didn’t work out because hell— he’d be living with his ex which could make a great plot to a cliche hallmark movie but not to his life.

for now, he’d have to keep things on the down low. even if you constantly came at him with flirty teasing. it happened mostly when you were drunk— everyone tends to have more courage when they’re 5 shots deep in tequila. however, there are some instances of ‘friendly’ flirting that happens especially when you’re sober. he doesn’t miss the vague compliments that, if either of you questioned, things would start spiraling. he doesn’t miss the stares that last a little too long or touches that linger for a split second longer than needed. the way you giggle a little too much to not be considered flirting.

but even at that, even with fate constantly pushing the two of you together be it through classes, parties, or running into each other on the street; he never made a move and neither did you. and at first, he was okay with that, but right now not so much because right fucking now, he’s stuck in his room wanting nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

he didn’t even know you were still seeing terushima. sure, you bragged about how great he is in bed but you were more of a one and done kind of girl (as you lovingly explained to him one drunken escapade). so to see the bleach blonde again (in his own house of all places) with you straddling his lap rubbed kuroo in a way that was anything but pleasant. he didn’t want to be subjected to this kind of torture so he figured running into his bedroom would be a good solution to his problem.

he anticipated just blasting music in his headphones. drown out whatever was happening just a few feet away from him. arriving at his destination, he gently shut the door to his room. throwing himself on his bed and reaching for his laptop, he’s glad that the noises haven’t started up yet. but when he searches his bag for his headphone and nothing comes up, it then dawns on him that he leaned his pair to a friend and now he is more fucked than you.

he panicking. a low whine of despair escaped his lips as he felt pity stir in his chest for himself. just his luck that his pretty roommate was fucking a completely different dude and he’d have to sit her and take it like some kind of incompetent loser. he contemplated going out there to stop whatever was happening. to just maybe knock on his door or yell out to you, to have you guys know that he’s in here and it’s not just you and terushima. yeah, just yell out to you guys would be easy, right? open the door, scream a simple “please don’t!” and done. he so sure that his plan is golden that he reaches for his door knob with a grin.

but then he hears you moan.

and his eyes widened at the sweet sound.

he can’t help but freeze up. how could something so lewd sound to pretty? his grip on the knob tightens. kuroo finds himself thinking hard to himself. this is so bad. even if he’s heard how pretty you sound, doesn't meant anything. as a good roommate, hell, as a good friend, he should go out there and tell you what’s up.

but then he hears your pleas again, however it’s not a moan this time. you let out a shakily sigh that was followed by some other words that he couldn’t really make out because of the distance. you sounded so needy, so desperate to have someone touch you to make you feel good. the mere thought of you desperately pleading with that pretty little mouth of yours made him dizzy.

with everything that’s happening, it makes sense that his dick starts to stiffen. he fumbled about his room. trying so damn hard to ignore the growing pain in his cock. he did some quiet jumping jacks, paced around his room, and tried to drawn everything out by screaming in his head.

it seemed that most things where to no effort. when he hears you let out a low groan followed by the succulent sound of wet lips kissing at your skin is when he finally lets go. desperately kuroo’s hand clutches his crotch over his shorts as he tried to control his thoughts and raging desires. he pleaded with himself to keep it cool, but no matter his attempts, it felt like his dick had a mind of it’s own— which it does.

no matter how hard he shut his eyes, or how loud he blasted super bass in his head, he couldn’t get the image of you naked out of his thoughts— you were probably fully nude by now, underwear (if you were even wearing any) scattered across the living room floor. he imagines that you’d wear something elegant yet contradicting sexy. lingerie that framed your body perfectly. kuroo would have to demand you to take them off or he’d rip into them himself. you’d be on full display just for him— terushima, he meant. not like him him. dear god, he felt sick but at the same time so fucking horny. it’s a weird combo that only you could ever invoke from him.

would you be weirded out if he jerked off to the idea of you having sex with someone else? of course, you would! it takes a special kind of crazy to think that you’d be okay with him just barging in on your private time. there’s no other way around it. you’d probably hate him for the rest of your life, if you were to find out what he was doing. but it’s not like he can do anything about it. it’s not like he can not not listen to you.

it’s far too late to interrupt now because he’ll look like some kind of perv that was actually enjoying listening in on his roommate fucking another guy. when his head start to finally clear, a deeper voice erupts from the intimate silence. it’s terushima.

“you want me to fuck you right here, baby?” he breathed out. even with the distance, kuroo could hear the leather of the couch shift. he only can only imagine how you two are positioned right now. “what if your roommate sees?”

“then he can enjoy the show,” he knew you were just playing along. drawing out the teasing to further your play time with terushima but it’s startling really because— if only you knew.

at this point, kuroo thinks he’s about to explode. he could practically hear the smirk you had on. the way you were dripping with lust had him biting back a groan. the things you do to him when you’re not even doing him was insane. he tried to block his thoughts out, think about something that’ll kill his boner but nothing came to mind.

nothing could kill his intense wanting when all he could picture was that he was the one making you moaning right now. that it was his name that you were grunting as you ride his cock. the thoughts made his dick impossibly harder, the pressure building up so much that it felt like he had no choice but to rub it over the fabric of his shorts.

it was like his body was acting without thinking as he began panting quietly to himself. when the sound of your voice got louder, his pace over the fabric quickens. his cheeks flush at the scandalous act. there is no way he’s rubbing one out to the sound of you fucking another guy.

but then your voice gets more needy, pleading with a desperation that kuroo couldn’t help but wish was for him. something inside him snaps. then all at once he’s betraying his thoughts. he’s not thinking straight when he finally pulls his shorts down. sighing in relief as his dick springs up, slapping his abdomen.

he waste no time wrapping his hand around his cock. eyes fluttering close when he gets a good rhythm going. slowly pumping when he hears you whining. then quickening his pace when he hears your moans getting faster. the slapping of skin on skin contact making his imagination grow wilder. he can’t help it really. picturing you all spread out, taking his cock like the good girl he hopes you are. your expression shifting to absolute bliss when he hits your sweet spot. he’s drowning in pure pleasure. his body completely laxed as he slumps over.

he slows when he hears your voice again, “god, fuck. just like that.”

it’s airy and pitched. begging and praising terushima as he fucks you perfectly. the image of you taking him— kuroo (not your other stupid fling), makes his breath hitch.

“f-fuck,” he mutters. his hand picks up speed. so many thoughts running through his head. mainly of you spiraled out in his favorite position, and so wet that his cock would just slide into your pussy easy. you’d be begging him to go harder and with such a sweet fucked out voice, how could he say no? he’d grab your hips and slam into you. you’d practically forget who the hell terushima was if, kuroo has his way with you.

hearing your moans pick up, his imagination gets the best of him. his hand pumps faster and faster. his body feels hot as he imagines your tight pussy swallowing his cock, sucking him in ever time he tries to pull out. he pictures you to be greedy in bed wanting every inch of him inside you and pounding so hard into you’d practically be seeing stars. he imagines running his hands gently through your pretty hair, petting you every once in a while and cooing about how much of a good girl you are. he’d be ready to pull at your roots if you even dare to tease him because he knows you’d try something as cunning as that. you’d do it with pleasure, a smirk plastered on your lips and nothing but trouble lining your hues.

“oh god– fuck.” he’s nearing the edge. he can feel the brink of his heat snapping. as if the gods are finally righting their wrongs. your melodious moaning reaches his ears.

“fuck. i’m– i’m gonna cum!” if this were any other circumstance, kuroo would say that it was romantic. the two of you finishing together. the blissful ride coming to an possibly wholesome end. silks of white hot pleasure filling you up and just when you think it’s over, he’d lean down one hand gripping your thigh while his long slender fingers go to work on stuffing all the leaking cum back into you. fuck. you’d be squirming under his touch caught between begging him to stop or wanting to go again and again and again…

opening his eyes, kuroo’s hues are meant with darkness. a stickiness all over his hands and tummy that he’s come to be all to familiar with at this point. he wishes he could finish how he imagined but he has to snap back into reality every once in a while. a bitter feeling fills his chest, a huge shift from his lust filled yearning a few seconds ago. things were certainly going to be a little weird from now on. kuroo considers himself quite the extrovert (sorta) but he’s kind of terrified to see how he’ll naturally react to you now that– that that has all went down.

taking one last look at the white strings that cover his body, he let’s out a way too loud (especially given the circumstance) groan. grabbing at a dirty towel he starts to clean himself off. when warm thoughts of you invade his memory again, he grimaces a fluttery feeling overcoming him.

“oh, i’m so fucked,” tossing the towel somewhere in his room. he falls asleep to the sound of your soft giggles as his soundtrack.

#dubcon #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #kuroo tetsuro smut #hq x reader

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

Text

LIGHTWOOD BANES WEEK - MAGNUS & MAX

“How about Mexico?”

“No.”

“Hmmm. Madrid?”

“No.”

“Paris?”

“No.”

“They have a Disneyland there,” Magnus winked.

“I’m not eight anymore,” Max rolled his eyes.

“Who said Disneyland is just for kids?” Magnus demanded. “Alright then. What about Singapore?”

“No.”

“Okay then let’s keep it local and go to Los Angeles,” Magnus suggested. “You love the beach. And you can even hang out with Octavian.”

“No.”

“Max, why are you being difficult?” Magnus sighed.

“Because it’s my birthday,” Max pointed out. “Why should do I what you people want?”

“Well, we people are your family,” Magnus raised a brow. “We are just trying to make the day special for you! And you know it’s tradition. We go somewhere every year!”

“Well, traditions change,” Max snapped. “I don’t want to go anywhere. In fact, I don’t want to celebrate. So, enough with the planning!”

Magnus tried not to show his disappointment. He loved planning and he loved Max. Alec and Rafe were excited about the trip too – but it was Magnus who loved it the most.

The tradition had started on Max’s 8th birthday. They usually celebrated at home. But Magnus had suggested that maybe the Lightwood-Banes should visit a new country everywhere.

He loved it. He loved sharing little corners of the world he had once discovered on his own. Places that had blessed his eyes but broken his heart – because he had convinced himself that his wandering heart would only ever wander alone. So, he loved returning to those places with his family and silently whispering ‘I made it’ as he held his family close to him.

But Max was right. This wasn’t about Magnus. It was Max’s birthday.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Magnus said now. “I didn’t mean to push you. We can just have a small par-”

“I SAID I DON’T WANT TO CELEBRATE!” Max yelled.

Magnus flinched.

He was used to temper tantrums.

The cute tantrums like the time when Max had cried when he had found out that Santa wasn’t real.

Even the ugly tantrums like the time when Max had fought with Alec after Rafael had gotten injured during a mission.

God, he was used to the temper tantrums.

But this one hit different – because Magnus couldn’t help but feel it had something do with him.

“Did I do something wrong?” Magnus asked quietly.

“No,” Max whispered. “You can’t help who you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Magnus demanded.

“Nothing,” Max said. “Just…nothing.”

“Alright, blueberry,” Magnus said softly, and he saw Max wince. “We don’t have to celebrate if you don’t want to.”

“Good,” Max replied shortly.

Magnus should leave him alone. Max always came around after a couple of hours – or sometimes days.

There were still a few hours till his birthday – the day Alec and Magnus had found him in the academy.

But Magnus didn’t want to leave him alone. Max looked just as helpless and alone as he had all those years ago.

“Do you want to tell me why you don’t want to celebrate?” Magnus asked.

“Because I’m not a kid anymore,” Max pointed out.

“Birthdays are not just for children,” Magnus said with a chuckle. “I mean look at me. I’m 900 and I still celebrate my birthday.”

“You’re not 900,” Max rolled his eyes. “And that’s cause you love parties. You threw a party when dad got his first grey hair.”

Because throwing a party is sometimes easier than crying in the bathroom, Magnus wanted to say.

“This is not about parties,” Magnus pointed out. “It’s about you. Why do you not want to celebrate your birthday?”

“Why are you making a big deal out of this?” Max demanded. “It’s not even my real birthday.”

“It’s real to us,” Magnus said, trying not to sound hurt. “Besides, that has never stopped you before. We had so much fun in Shanghai last year. Maybe we could go bac-”

“Bapa,” Max said. “I said no.”

Magnus had taught both his children to say no – to things they didn’t like and to things that made them uncomfortable. He never wanted them to do things that they didn’t want to do.

“Of course,” Magnus nodded and got off the bed. “Okay.”

“It’s not just this year,” Max said when Magnus opened the door. “I never want to celebrate my birthday again.”

Magnus closed it back. No. this conversation was not over.

“Never is an awfully long time, Max,” Magnus said carefully. “Especially for a warlock.”

Max just stayed quiet. Magnus walked over to his and sat down next to him.

Unlike Raphael, who was tall, lean and lithe, Max was broader. He was still tall of course. All Lightwood-Banes were above six feet – a fact Clary was not particularly happy about.

“I know something is bothering you,” Magnus said gently. “If you don’t want to talk to me about it, that’s okay. But at least talk to your dad.”

“I’d rather not,” Max replied. “What good is talking going to do?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Magnus laughed.

Max was quiet again.

“Blue,” Magnus called softly. “What is it? Talk to Bapa.”

Max took a shuddering breath. “I…I don’t wanna grow old.”

And Magnus’ breath hitched.

He knew those words. He feared those words. He had been preparing for a long time to hear those words.

From Alec. From Rafe.

But they had never said it – and Magnus hoped they never will. A part of him was secretly glad that the discussion didn’t come up. He was relieved that the nightmare was over.

But hearing those words from Max – the last one person expected it from – pushed him right back into his nightmare.

“Is it David?” Magnus asked, feeling confused “But I thought you’d be happy about this. You and David both get to grow old together.”

David had been Max’s first boyfriend – and the only person he had loved. Magnus knew they had something special. He had been worried that Max would have a fate similar to his – stumbling around searching for love for centuries and losing all hope.

But Max had taken up after Alec. He had found his love on the very first try. Magnus was glad for these small blessings. He was glad Max didn’t have to stumble.

“Did something happen with David?” Magnus prompted when Max didn’t talk. “Did you guys…have a fight or something?”

Max looked down. “Everything is fine with David. I told him why I didn’t want to celebrate. He understood.”

“And you think I won’t?” Magnus asked. “Come on, blueberry.”

Max winced again. He looked up at him directly then, his blue eyes mournful. “What if you stop calling me that?”

“Why would I ever stop calling you that?” Magnus asked.

“Because I’m growing older,” Max replied quietly. “Tomorrow I’ll be officially older than you are.”

Magnus hadn’t even realized.

Unlike mortals, warlocks looked at age as an abstract concept. It didn’t make sense after a while. Like most things.

Magnus had simply assumed that Max would feel that way. But Max was still very young. He hadn’t lived long enough to understand the beauties and absurdities that came with being an immortal.

“I don’t want to grow old,” Max said again. “I don’t wanna grow older than you.”

“Oh, Max,” Magnus pulled him closer. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“Doesn’t it?” Max demanded, his eyes still teary. “How about if I only stop aging when I’m 40?”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” Magnus pointed, ignoring the lump in his throat. “It means David can grow-”

“Not everything is about David,” Max sounded angry. “What about you? What about us?”

“You’re always going to be my son, Max,” Magnus promised. “How you look isn’t going to change that.”

Max looked away.

“I promise,” Magnus urged. “It doesn’t make a difference to me.”

“I’m sorry, Bapa,” Max whispered.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I…I don’t want to make it any harder for you.”

“You’re not making anything harder,” Magnus chastised. “Why would you even think that?”

“Because everyone keeps growing up around you,” Max sniffled. “You already have to deal with dad and Rafe. I thought me being a warlock would make things easier. But apparently I was wrong.”

Magnus had thought so too.

But his life had never been easier. It had been a long one. A difficult one. But he liked where he was right now. He wouldn’t trade any of it for anything.

“I tried to do something about it,” Max said hesitantly. “I went to the shadow market and tried to see if I can stop ag-”

“You did what?” Magnus demanded. “Max, you can’t change who you are. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

“But I-”

“But nothing,” Magnus interrupted, feeling angry and terrified all at the same time. “I know people who have tried using this kind of magic – warlocks and mundanes. It doesn’t end well. I don’t want you dabbling with dark magic, Max. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Max said in a small voice.

“Please,” Magnus said. “It’s dangerous. If something happened to you…Please promise me you won’t try anything like that again.”

“I won’t,” Max said. “I promise.”

Then they were both quiet. Magnus wasn’t used to that.

“It doesn’t matter whether you are a warlock or a shadowhunter or mundane,” Magnus pointed out after a while. “These are things beyond all our control. We need to accept them as they come.”

“It’s hard,” Max only said.

And for some reason Magnus laughed. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Max rested his head on Magnus’ shoulder. He was just the right height. But Magnus knew it wouldn’t always be that way. Max was still growing.

“It is hard when everyone around you keeps growing up,” Magnus said. “It makes you feel so young and so ancient at the same time. It makes you feel like you are standing still while everyone is running towards something. But it is the life we were given. It’s part of our magic. It’s part of who we are. There is nothing wrong with that.”

“So you don’t mind…You don’t mind me growing older? You’re not mad?”

“Of course not,” Magnus said. “Max, this is something you can’t control. I would never hold it against you. That’s hardly fair.”

“I wish I could control it,” Max whispered.

“I know,” Magnus smiled. “But there are lots of other things you can control.”

“Like what?”

“Like whether you are going to let this ruin your birthday,” Magnus grinned. “Besides, I’m still very much older than you. I’m basically 800.”

“You said you were 900 five minutes ago,” Max laughed softly.

“Ah, it’s hard to keep track of these things,” Magnus shrugged. “I'm such an old, old man.”

Max rolled his eyes. “You promise you’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” Magnus promised. “You’re still with me, aren't you – wrinkles and all.”

“I don’t have wrinkles!” Max said indignantly.

“Well, you might,” Magnus shrugged. “And probably crows feet too.”

“I see you are once again using humor to deal with the angst,” Max pointed out dryly.

“Always,” Magnus winked.

Max smiled, just a little.

“Listen to me,” Magnus took his blue hands in his. “It doesn’t matter how old you are or what you look like. You will always be my blueberry.”

“Promise?” Max asked, his voice small.

“I promise,” Magnus smiled.

“Even if my hair turns white and I get…crows feet,” Max chuckled. “What if I only stop aging when I’m 50? When I look like your father? You won’t find it strange?”

Magnus remembered the day they had found Max. The first time Alec had mentioned the topic of marriage. The first time Magnus had realized that maybe happily ever after was a possibility for someone like him.

He still remembered the words Alec had whispered to him that night, as they both rested beneath the crib, where Max was sound asleep.

“It would be strange,” Magnus smiled now. “But I never want a less strange love.”

Max choked back a sob and threw his arms around Magnus. “I love you. Bapa.”

“I love you too, blueberry,” Magnus whispered.

Max held him closer for a long while and Magnus let him. He wasn’t going to let him go – not now. Not ever.

It would be the two of them one day and they had to get used to holding onto each other.

“Now about this trip,” Magnus said, as he pulled back.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Max rolled his eyes fondly.

“Oh, come on!” Magnus complained. “We hardly go on family vacations anymore. You and Rafe are too old and too cool to hang out with your parents.”

“Fine,” Max put his hands up. “But I get to choose.”

“Anywhere you want,” Magnus promised.

“Alright then,” Max said, his eyes no longer tearful, just plain wicked. “I want to go to Peru.”

#AND THEN THEY BROKE INTO PERU JFSNHGKJSHDFK #sorry for the angst homies #max lightwood #magnus bane #lightwood bane family #lightwood banes week #dani writes stuff

186 notes · View notes

eliemo · 3 years

Text

Silence Speaks

Summary: Virgil can't get out of bed. Days like this are nothing new, he just doesn't know how his new family will react to him being so pathetic.

TWs: Depression, depressive episode, brief death mention, self-hatred, temporary nonverbal episode

Notes: Found this fic in my drafts from a few months ago, so I cleaned it up to post since LB and Permafrost are taking a bit. Enjoy <3

Virgil knew it was going to be one of those days when the third hour passed with no change.

Everything was too much. His chest hurt, every breath was just too much work, all he wanted was to sink into the blankets and sleep the rest of his life away. He’d been staring blankly at the wall since he’d woken up, curled up on his side with tears pooling in his eyes. He couldn't get up, couldn’t get back to sleep, couldn’t even call out to ask for help.

It had been a while since he’d had a day like this, when just the thought of getting out of bed made him sick,

They’d used to be more frequent, back when Virgil was alone and shut out, hated and scorned by the people he just wanted to protect. The resentment took its toll, and sometimes he couldn’t find a reason to get out of bed.

It wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. He was supposed to be over this. He was supposed to be better.

He had everything he’d ever wanted. He had his family, Thomas listened to him, and he wasn’t just needed- he was wanted.

He was wanted. He knew he was. Sometimes it was just...hard to convince himself of that, despite the overwhelming amount of kindness he’d been given for months now, the reassurances and patient understanding that felt too good to be true.

But now here he was again, unmoving in the dark of his own room, closed off like the brooding villain he was trying so hard not to be anymore.

God, he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be anywhere. He didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to go back to sleep, and he didn’t want to get up and go downstairs.

He just...didn’t want to do this anymore.

Why couldn’t he just disappear?

Virgil thought he could hear voices downstairs, but nothing was really registering through the fog settling around his head. His room was pitch dark, the curtains pulled tightly shut, leaving it impossible to tell how much time had passed.

He thought it might have been a few hours by now, and he hoped everyone would just continue on with their day and leave him here forever, trapped in his own body with a brain stuck trying to sabotage his happiness. He’d fade away on his own, and they’d forget about him, never bothering to even question his absence.

Virgil knew better than to really believe that. A year ago he could have gotten away with it, he could lock himself up in the dark for days and nobody would care. They’d probably celebrate.

Now...now they would notice he wasn’t coming down for breakfast. He had a job to do, he had people who actually cared. Virgil couldn’t just lay here, pathetic and useless. He was letting himself waste away and fail everyone who had taken a chance on him. They’d given him so much. He couldn’t undo all that progress because he was feeling a little sad.

But he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t. It would be so much easier if he could just die.

Virgil still wasn’t sure how much time had passed, laying there wide awake without the energy to move a single inch, but suddenly a knock on the door sliced through the haze around his brain.

More tears gathered in his eyes, frustration and dread making his chest unbearably heavy. He didn’t want to be ridiculed and yelled at right now. He wasn’t ready to be forced out of bed, selfish as it was to want to stay here.

A few seconds passed before the door creaked open, light spilling in from the hall, the faint smell of coffee wafting into the room.

“Virgil?”

That was Logan, even though Virgil couldn’t bring himself to turn his head to look. The logical side’s voice was comforting and familiar, but he wasn’t sure he could handle his blunt judgment right now.

He’d think Virgil was ridiculous, his refusal to leave his room illogical and stupidly selfish. He’d made everyone worry for nothing. Anxiety was just being lazy again.

“Virgil, it’s almost eleven,” Logan said, and Virgil kind of wished he could just die right here and now. Death would get him out of being lectured. “You need to wake up and eat something. You missed breakfast.”

Virgil still couldn’t move, but his breath caught in his throat at the reminder. He knew he was being stupid, and he knew he was behind schedule, but the thought of food just made him feel nauseous.

He heard footsteps, carefully tracking Logan’s movements as he came closer and listened as he carefully set down what was probably a mug of coffee on the dresser.

“Virgil?” he called, and it was getting harder and harder to see as more tears built up. “Are you awake?”

Virgil still couldn’t bring himself to answer, even as Logan moved around to the side of the bed. Virgil didn’t glance up to his face, but there was no way Logan couldn’t tell that the anxious side’s eyes were open and aware.

He tensed, waiting for anger and judgment, or even just an annoyed huff. He waited to be told that it was easy to get out of bed and Virgil was just being difficult, that he needed to stop being so pathetic or they had no reason to keep showing him so much kindness.

He needed to be useful, or they wouldn’t want him around anymore.

But Logan was suddenly kneeling down to his level, eyes kind and worried behind his glasses.

“Are you alright?” he asked, frowning when Virgil just clenched his jaw in response. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Virgil couldn’t force words to form no matter how badly he wanted to, and to his dismay a few tears slipped free, trailing down his jaw and seeping into the pillow.

Logan’s expression softened, but the concern in his eyes only grew. He reached forward, slow and careful, and somehow Virgil managed to move just enough to latch desperately onto his hand.

He didn’t have the energy to choke out any apologies, although he was almost certain Logan was about to demand one.

“That is alright,” the logical side said instead. “You do not have to talk. Do you think you can manage a nod or headshake?”

Virgil forced himself to respond with the tiniest of movements, even though just reaching up to take Logan’s hand had felt like running a marathon.

“Alright,” he said gently. “Are you feeling ill?”

Virgil wished he was just sick. That would be so much easier to explain. Being sick was fixable, and it wouldn’t look like he was just making excuses to be lazy.

But he didn’t see the point in lying, and he certainly didn’t have the energy to deal with even more anger if he was found out. He managed a small shake of his head, even as Logan reached up with his free hand to carefully feel his forehead. He had to force himself not to lean into the touch.

“Are you in pain?”

Yes. Everything hurt so bad and he wanted it to stop. His chest felt like someone was sitting on it, his head felt like something was pounding at the back of his skull, and every bone in his body felt heavy and useless.

But he couldn’t say that, because he knew it was all in his head. It wasn’t real.

He shook his head again, choking on a small sob, and something like realization dawned in the other side’s eyes.

“I see,” Logan said. “Is this...just a bad day, then?”

Logan had finally figured it out, because of course he had. Virgil being stupid and useless probably wasn’t a difficult conclusion to come to, anyway.

He nodded, tense and staring at nothing as he waited for Logan to rip his hand away and demand Virgil grow up and stop wasting everyone’s time. Or maybe he’d just roll his eyes and leave, closing the door and locking Anxiety back in the dark where he belonged.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Logan said, and to Virgil’s surprise his hold only tightened. “Are you able to get out of bed?”

More tears welled up at the question, dread rising in his chest. Because he couldn’t imagine even standing up right now, but of course he couldn’t expect to be able to get away with that. Logan was being polite about it, but they had a schedule to stick to.

“It’s alright if the answer is no,” Logan continued. “I have no intention of forcing you. I only thought it might be easier to take care of you today if you’re set up on the couch.”

Wait...what? Take care of him?

Logan seemed to sense his confusion, and the hand that wasn’t currently being held hostage moved to run gently through his hair, smiling sadly at Virgil’s barely audible whimper.

“If you’re more comfortable here you can stay. But I know being left alone with your thoughts is not always...ideal. We can keep you company in the living room if you like. If you’re overstimulated, the lights will be kept dim, and the noise to a minimum.”

Virgil hesitated, trying to figure out if Logan was joking- or if this was some kind of cruel trick to teach him a lesson. They didn’t need to do anything. He didn’t deserve it. And he wasn’t sick, he was just being a baby.

Logan was suddenly cupping Virgil’s cheek, wiping tears away with his thumb. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Virgil. Would you like help sitting up?”

And Virgil felt ridiculous, because he had no real reason to feel so weighed down, but he gave another timid nod.

Logan didn’t even hesitate before moving to help, a steadying hand against Virgil’s back as he guided him up to lean against the headboard. He didn’t complain, didn’t lecture Virgil about how inconsiderate he was being, just silently assisted and pulled away when he was done.

Again Virgil wanted to apologize, but the words got stuck in his throat, buried deep beneath the fatigue.

“There is no need for an apology,” Logan said, and Virgil wondered when he’d become so predictable. “If you aren’t able to walk, I’m sure Roman would be more than happy to carry you to the couch. I only need your permission to inform him and Patton of what is happening.”

Virgil wasn’t sick or injured, he was competent enough to get himself out of bed and down the stairs. People were busy, and he was already being awful by forcing Logan to stay.

But just the thought of getting out of bed and walking out of his room was enough to make him want to bury himself under the covers and dissolve into sobs. He curled in on himself and eyed Logan warily, hoping that was enough of an answer.

“Alright,” Logan said, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “I’ll go get him, just wait here a moment.”

Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand, and he’d known the logical side long enough to know the smile he sent was nothing but genuine.

Virgil felt cold when Logan pulled his hand away and moved off the bed, but being unable to talk meant he couldn’t call him back as he disappeared through the door.

He let out a shaky breath and pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He squeezed teary eyes shut as he rested his chin on his knees.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before Virgil heard footsteps in the hallway, his bedroom door creaking open as the creative side cautiously stepped inside the doorway with a small frown.

Virgil tensed, because if anyone was going to make fun of him for this it would be Roman- well meaning but so brash and over the top at times- and he could already picture Roman’s mocking laughter, his exasperation as he tried to just drag Virgil out of bed, his—

“Hey there,” Roman called, softer than Virgil could ever remember him sounding. “Feeling under the weather today, Stormcloud?”

Virgil shrugged, hunching his shoulders and staring at his own hands. From the look in the Prince’s eyes, it was clear he understood.

“That’s ok,” he said, ducking his head to meet Virgil’s eyes as he smiled and made his way to the bed. “Bad days happen, Doom and Gloom. You just have to ask for help.”

Virgil let out a pitiful whine, the closest he could get to telling Roman that he couldn’t. Even if he could, he didn’t know how. He’d never been able to ask for help before. The Prince’s smile turned sad, and he slowly lowered himself on the bed beside Virgil.

“I know,” Roman said, and Virgil watched as he opened his arms in a quiet invitation, looking so ridiculously hopeful. “But we’re here now.”

Virgil broke. What little walls he’d still been holding up crumbling at the Prince’s simple words, and he choked on a sob, vision blurring with the tears he finally allowed to fall. He collapsed forward into Roman’s chest, shuddering when strong arms wrapped around and pulled him close.

Roman didn’t speak, and he didn't force Virgil to even try, just held him tight and rocked them both on the edge of the bed, the Prince’s chin hooked over Virgil’s head, almost cocooning him in safety.

Roman held him, strong but gentle all the same, letting Virgil cry into the Prince’s shirt as long as he needed, hushing him through violent sobs. He didn’t rush him, didn’t tease or berate him, just kept him close and safe.

“I’m here,” he said when Virgil had quieted down a bit. “Is it ok if I take you downstairs now? Logan and Pat are worried about you.”

Virgil nodded with his face still buried in Roman’s chest, breath catching in his throat when the Prince carefully maneuvered them both towards the end of the bed. He kept one arm wrapped firmly around Virgil’s back, the other hooking under his knees.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when Virgil clutched desperately at the back of his shirt, squeezing his eyes shut as Roman stood from the bed, Virgil secure in his hold. “We’ve all got you, Virge.”

Virgil kept his eyes closed, breaths coming out as nothing more than pitiful, hiccuping sobs. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to talk to anyone, look at anyone, or be seen by anyone. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to exist today.

But Roman’s embrace made him forget that for just a moment. The memory of Logan’s comfort and the promise of Patton’s care made it just a little more bearable.

It was all a blur, Virgil barely able to focus on the world around him, overwhelmed and so so exhausted. The curtains in the living room were drawn, keeping the room comfortably dim, and Patton and Logan moved quietly, keeping everything blissfully peaceful.

Roman set him down on the couch, letting Virgil curl up on his side and pull the nearest blanket over him, taking a moment to run his fingers through the anxious side’s hair.

Patton kneeled beside him, searching his watery eyes for silent permission before leaning in to kiss Virgil’s forehead with a soft smile.

“Hey kiddo,” he said, just as loving as Logan and Roman had been. “You want your old dad to make you some hot chocolate?”

Virgil blinked, not sure how to respond to that. It sounded nice, but...but he was already convincing them enough. They were all busy, and probably annoyed and—

“It’s not an issue, honey,” Patton assured, like he could sense Virgil’s internal panic. “We didn’t have much planned for today. You can relax.”

He had his suspicions that Logan had actually just changed their schedule in favor of keeping an eye on Virgil while he rested, but he wasn’t exactly in the place to ask questions, as panicked as the thought made him. He’d make it up to them tomorrow.

Virgil couldn’t quite look Patton in the eyes, but the parental side seemed so eager to help, and...hot chocolate didn’t sound terrible. He gave a hesitant nod, chest loosening a bit at the way Patton positively beamed.

Patton hurried into the kitchen, only to come back less than five minutes later with the biggest mug Virgil had ever seen, overflowing with marshmallows and whipped cream. Roman perched on the arm of the couch, close enough to keep running his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

“Just rest, Virgil,” Logan said, smiling when Virgil took his hot chocolate with unsteady hands. “We can put on a movie if you like. Or we can leave you alone if you’re overwhelmed.”

Virgil bit his lip, a few stray tears still running down his cheeks and dripping onto the couch. It was a bad day, not his first and definitely not his last but it wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. It was already getting a little better.

He took a steady breath, raising his head to meet Logan’s eyes, mustering what little energy he had to force his voice to work again, the words small, breathy and ragged, but clear all the same.

“Stay? Please?”

Logan smiled, Roman scooted closer, and Patton gave Virgil’s forehead another kiss. They gathered around him on the couch, similar to how they usually ended up after a bad panic attack.

Roman and Logan ended up on either side of him, while Patton let Virgil put down his mug for a second to wrap his arms around the moral side’s waist, relishing in the warmth of one of Patton’s hugs.

There had been more days like this than Virgil could count, everything weighing down on him until he just wanted to disappear. He’d never...had this before. He’d always been alone, locking himself away until he could face his own existence again.

This time his family was on all sides, Patton holding him tightly, Logan taking his hand, Roman still playing with his hair, reminding him that it would be ok soon. He had a reason to fight through it.

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to thank them, not out loud again, but he knew they understood.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #depression tw #nonverbal tw #crying tw #fanficiton #writing

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dreaming-twist · 3 years

Text

THAT'S NOT FAIR!

I wrote something self-indulgent for myself ~

Note: "(Y/n)" has her/she pronouns. And sorry if the translator changed any pronoun, I re-read it already but if something's left I'll correct it later!

At NRC, there weren't many opportunities for an entire course to come together in one class, but this was one of those days when it did. Professor Vargas had told all his students something about how observing other people, apart from classmates, could awaken in each one a feeling of improvement and rivalry that would make them try harder everyday. And having said that, he gathered all the first-year classes in the schoolyard, so that each of the students could do the sport that they most wanted.

Ace, Deuce and (Y/n) –who was carring Grim– walked around looking sideways in search of their friends, and after a few seconds they saw Jack's hand, calling for them above all the student heads around. The four of them made room to pass netween their classmates, and found Jack and Epel there.

"Hey ~" Ace greeted, raising his hand. Deuce and Epel bumpled their fists, and Jack smiled. "Well, I'll be brief: Basketball"

"You're making up your own mind, Ace" Grim said reluctantly.

"You know, there are two people here from the athletic club, if we were to pick something by majority we would win" Deuce commented casually, glancing at Jack.

Ace mockingly mimicked him, then put his arms behind his head.

"What do you want to play then?"

"Anything, I only want to start moving NOW" said Epel, who had already begun to stretch.

"Same here" Jack said, folding his arms. "I just want something to keep me going."

"Well, then it's decided!" Ace turned away, before Deuce could say anything to him. "I'm going for a ba—!"

"I THINK that what Professor Vargas wants is for us to try new experiences."

"UWAH!" Ace was startled to see someone cutting him off, which he almost bumped in. "SEBEK!? Since WHEN were you there!?"

Sebek arched an eyebrow, not changing his expression too much.

"I have listened to your conversation from the very beginning, human. If that's what you mean."

"... Well, now that we are 7 at least we can play 3 VS 3."

"... Huh? But if we were 6 before, right?";(Y/n) said, counting.

"Ah— did you count Grim? 'Cause I didn't"

"HEY, ACE! I'M GONNA TO HIT YOU, YOU SEE!" Grim yelled at him angrily as Ace held up his tongue.

"AS I WAS SAYING," Sebek began, walking a few more steps to the other boys, "I think trying something that no one practices on a regular basis would be a much more enriching experience for everyone."

Ace narrowed his eyes at him, though Sebek didn't seem to have noticed him. Deuce put a hand to his chin thoughtfully.

"Sounds like a good option to me, actually" he said, glancing at (Y/n) and Grim, who nodded. Jack seemed to be listening intently, and Epel's eyes were fixed on Sebek, since he wanted to get started as soon as possible. "Do you have any suggestions, Sebek?"

"Hmpf. Of course I do" he said, smiling, and then headed straight for a bench.

They all looked at each other without understanding anything, and followed him. Sebek ended up sitting up and putting his elbow on the table, and when everyone saw him smile proudly they knew what it was about.

"Arm wrestling? Like, seriously?" Ace asked, looking bored. He sought support from the others, looking at them, but he was surprised to see everyone really wanting to get started.

"Do you think you can beat me?" Jack asked confidently. "I was competing against Leona-senpai some days ago."

"Impressive, but yes: I think I can win. Do not underestimate the bodyguard of the great Malleus Draconia."

Jack smiled and sat down at the table, and they both put their hands together for a second after they started. They were both too strong, so they just smiled while straining.

Epel was looking at them with super bright eyes, and then he turned to Deuce, clenching his fists tightly.

"DEUCE! We are next! I'm not losing to you!"

Deuce looked at him in surprise, but then his grimace changed to a crooked smile as he collided with one of his fists against his other hand.

"I'm going to do everything I can to win you over, huh?" He said, and Epel was quick to nod and sit up to go against him.

They both put their elbows on the table and clasped their hands, and on the count of three they started. From the start Deuce seemed to have the upper hand, but Epel didn't give up on the first try, keeping his arm up for a long time. Deuce knew that if he used as much force as in his past days, he could win, but he was no longer like that, so he gave his all without going to extremes that were not going to be good for him or for his opponent. But still, he was struggling. And that made him feel proud of his friend, who seemed to be getting stronger every day through training and perseverance.

"Epel, your training seems to be paying off" Deuce said, smiling, though his tone darkened a bit afterward. "But I'm not going to let you beat me."

"HA!" said Epel, cocky. "We both train very hard, but there is something that I have and you don't ~"

Deuce arched an eyebrow not knowing what his opponent was planning on him... until he fixed his eyes on him: Epel was looking at him with the brightest and most adorable eyes he'd ever seen.

"Huuum, Deuce-kun, you're too strong ... I'm not going to be able to beat you ... ~"

Deuce shuddered when he heard that high-pitched tone of voice suddenly, which made Epel suddenly use more force and knock down Deuce's arm, thus winning the game. Epel stood up with a jump, returning to his normal voice again.

"TAKE THAT, YOU LOSER! WOOOOOOO!"

Deuce blinked a few times, unaware of what had just happened. But as he recovered, he snapped his eyes open and pointed at Epel, embarrassed.

"EPEL! THAT'S NOT FAIR!

"What's not fair?" Epel asked, pretending to be oblivious, but without losing his smile.

"Deuce... You have to lose that irrational fear you have of women... Or well, of everything just a little femenine, ya know" Ace said, sighing.

"It's not irrational! EPEL! I DEMAND ANOTHER MATCH!"

"Eeeeeh...?"

Ace, Grim and (Y/n) stood watching them argue a bit, not saying anything ... until Ace and (Y/n) ended up looking sideways. And Ace then showed a mocking smile.

"... Weeeell, (Y/n)... Do you want me to crush you?~"

"You speak very confidently for being the weaklest guy in the basketball club, Ace" Grim said quickly, to which (Y/n) gave a small laugh.

"WEAKL...! All right, Grim, you against me! But if you end up crying don't blame me, huh"

"Whatever, I'm gonna win you over."

Ace sat down at the table and Grim jumped on top of it. They both put their arms in position and on the count of three, they started the match... which ended just as quickly.

"... Wait, WHAT!?" That scream sounded so loud that other students turned to look his way. "THAT'S NOT FAIR! (Y/N)! WHY HAVE YOU HELPED HIM!?"

"Hum? What are you talking about?" (Y/n) asked innocently, whose hand was on Grim's paw, and both of them had managed to knock Ace down in no time.

"HEY, DON'T PLAY FOOL!"

"Tch, tch, tch ... Ace, my minion and I are one student. If you are looking for a fight with me, you are looking for it with her. This is how things are ~"

Meanwhile, Sebek and Jack continued to compete. Neither of them seemed to want to give in and be the last loser of the day.

"Aren't you tired yet, Sebek?"

"Not at all. I am totally focused on our match."

"Heh. I supposed it. Although it seems that the others have already finished. We should finish soon.”

"HA! That those humans and that magic monster are not as good as us is none of our business."

"... You're right, I just have to beat you."

That made everyone turn their heads towards the two of them, especially Ace and Deuce, the losers from the previous rounds. The two of them frowned at being treated like that, looked at each other, and ended up reading each other's minds. Epel, Grim and (Y/n) could feel how they weren't planning anything good... even though they couldn't say anything about it. Ace and Deuce took a breath then, and...

"M-M-MALLEUS-SENPAI! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?"

"KINGSCHOLAR-SENPAI! HAVE YOU COME TO WATCH JACK'S MATCH?"

And then, Sebek and Jack reacted at the same time, getting up from the place very upright, turning to see their superiors ...

"WAKA-SAMA, IT'S AN HONOR—!"

"LEONA-SENPAI, I WAS—"

... Only to realize that they were nowhere to be found.

"WOW, Sebek, looks like you've lost, huh? ~"

"Now we're in the same boat, Jack ~"

The two of them were stunned to realize that they had given up at the same time, and thus, they had both lost.

"Good work, Deuce-kun ~

"Same there, Ace-kun ~

Ace and Deuce bumpled fists, grinning. When they weren't arguing, the truth was that they made a great team. Although...

"... Uh... You two... I don't think it's time to celebrate."

They both turned to Grim and could see Sebek and Jack getting dangerously close to them, stretching their arms and clenching their fists.

"Time to show them who the losers are"

"I was going to say the exact same thing"

Epel, Grim, and (Y/n) stood, watching the chase live... until Epel finally said something.

"Well... do you want to take one more?"

"Of course! This is the one to see who wins!" Grim said, jumping back onto the table.

"No cheating this time, okay? We will play as it should from the beginning" (Y/n) said him, laughing, and placing her hand on Grim's paw.

Epel smiled and joined them, getting ready.

"OK! So... AT THE COUNT OF THREE...!"

#twst #twisted wonderland #epel felmier #deuce spade #ace trappola #jack howl #sebek zigvolt #grim #twst imagines #twst writing #self indulgent

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 3 years

Text

Exercises in Self Control

It's been five years since Endeavour divorced his wife and sent her away to a hospital.

You are his second bride and all he wants is to see you naked. Based on the short story 'The Tiger's Bride' by Angela Carter. You can find a summary of it here

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Endeavor x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: Possessive behaviour, (it’s Endeavor, I mean, c’mon), Endeavor pre-redemption arc who’s still learning boundaries, references to suicide (not Reader), references to Touya,

Endeavor is spelled Endeavour because I’m British mmkay

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Your father lost you in a game of cards.

On the surface he was a respectable man, owner of several businesses and an outspoken member of the local community. He also spent much of his free time in underground gambling dens, betting more money than he could possibly afford on poker and mahjong. By the age of fourteen, you had made peace with the fact that you would never go to college. By seventeen, you had dropped out of high school and taken on a job in a hostess bar. By twenty-five you paid almost all of the rent and took full responsibility for getting the groceries and maintaining the house.

On good days, your father would return with diamonds and tiaras and remind you and your mother that you had come from rich stock. On bad days strange men would come knocking at your door, demanding the money your father owed. It was too much for your mother, whose family ran most of Roppongi. Prior to her relationship with your father, she had never had to go without. The shame of it ate away at her until there was nothing left; finally claiming her life when you were sixteen.

You decided at her funeral that you had nothing left to lose.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You were twenty-seven when the unthinkable happened and your father finally lost everything.

Well. Almost everything.

Two weeks later, the strangest and most frightening man of all arrived at your home, ready to change your lives forever.

You knew his name, of course. Everyone did. He was Endeavour, the world’s number two hero, as famous for his flames as he was his stern demeanour. He dominated every room he entered; easily more terrifying than any yakuza you had ever met.

Your father urged you to make tea and then promptly dismissed you, which in itself wasn’t unusual. He hated discussing business matters with you or your late mother in the room, mostly because he didn’t want you to know how dire your situation actually was.

It was the first and last time you gave in to curiosity.

You stayed outside of your father’s door and listened in on the plotting within. Endeavour made a proposal shortly after; a business deal so terrible that your knees buckled underneath you and you had to hold onto the door frame.

He would settle your father’s debts and buy each one of his businesses, but in exchange he wanted to marry you.

Surely your father wouldn’t accept such a fate for you? Surely he wouldn’t agree to have you marry a man thirteen years your senior that you didn't even know?

You had heard that Endeavour was married with children. What on earth did he want with you?

You threw yourself into his office before you could stop yourself.

“Please,” you begged. “Please don’t do this!”

You fell to your knees in front of your father, but the decision had already been made. Endeavour honoured his side of the deal there and then, transferring a down payment to your father’s account, with the promise of more after the wedding.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You were married to Endeavour two days later. There was no ceremony or celebration and you signed away your life while your father counted his money.

The only pretty part of the wedding was the bouquet of white roses your soon to be husband delivered to your door and even then you cut your finger on the thorns. Endeavour took one look at the bloody smears on their beautiful white petals and appeared quite disgusted, burning them on the spot.

You thought of them as you climbed into the back of his car and bit back tears all of the way to your new home. You had sacrificed so much already, but losing any chance at love hit you the hardest. You told yourself that this was the way things had to be; that if you didn’t marry this man, your father would end up dead or worse.

Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder how things might have played out if the roles were reversed. Your father would throw anything he had at a chance of glory, but you weren’t so sure that extended to his loved ones.

You supposed it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered now was the man sitting beside you. In certain lights he didn’t look human; teeth fractionally too long and eyes too sharp. He did not speak his vows, so much as growl them.

You were going to have to have sex with this monster of a man and that knowledge left you twisting and turning your hands in your lap.

You expected him to take you to one of his other apartments, but in the end he took you to his main residence, opening the car door for you in silence and gesturing for you to follow him up the path. His house was massive and you shivered as you saw it, suddenly convinced that it wasn’t only your husband who would swallow you whole.

Every room your husband took you to was bare, as if the house was merely for show and not a family home. His staff stared at you as you passed, as curious of the new bride as any other exotic animal. You wondered how they saw you. Did they think you were despicable to even consider replacing the previous Mrs Todoroki? Did they look at your bright eyes and white wedding dress and think of you as a lamb to the slaughter? Did they think you were a whore? A jezebel who seduced their master for his money? They kept their cards close to their chest.

You weren’t sure what was stranger about the experience: the absurd circumstances behind your arrival at the residence; the way your husband gruffly pointed out each room to you; the fact that even now that you were his wife, he never once looked you in the face. It was all so very overwhelming and you couldn’t help but feel dizzy.

Endeavour’s children had been noticeably absent from the wedding. You knew that the circumstances were unconventional, but it surprised you nonetheless. You were going to be their stepmother. This would be a strange period for all involved.

As it happened, they were absent from their family home too, not only in presence, but sentiment. He pointed out each of his children’s rooms and skimmed over their ages, but that was the only sign they existed at all.

Fuyumi was seventeen, Natsuo fourteen and Shoto the youngest at ten. He passed by the final room with little in the way of acknowledgement, though you paused to read the name on the door.

Touya

The door was ajar, with just enough space for you to see inside, though you didn’t get the chance, for your husband noticed you weren’t following and came back to take you by the arm.

“You won’t be going into that room,” he said, without a hint of doubt in his voice.

You wondered why such an innocuous room was forbidden, though didn’t get the chance to wonder about it for long, as you arrived at the master bedroom.

Of all of the rooms in the house, this was the emptiest. It had a king sized bed with plain white bed covers, a dressing table and simple wardrobe and a set of bedside drawers. That was it, though. There were no photographs on the walls, no bookshelves, no possessions. Much like the rest of the house, it was as if no one lived there. The closest thing to a personal item was the mirror on the dressing table.

Endeavour closed the door behind you and it echoed on your senses, like the snap of a bear trap around your ankle. You were alone with him now, far away from home, with no one to save you or take you away. Your eyes filled with tears before you could stop them.

“Strip,” he said, with no room for argument.

“No,” you whispered, hugging your arms around your body.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of this and didn’t bother anymore to hide it. You didn’t want to offer up your body to him. You couldn’t think of anything more frightening or distasteful than his hands on your skin.

“Strip,” he said again, but you refused him just as before.

It was just as you had feared; this man wasn’t used to or fond of being told ‘no’.

He grabbed one of the arms you had been using to shield your body. He was strong, too strong, and your attempts to resist were fruitless.

“We won’t be having sex,” he said, as if it would comfort you, “but I will see you.”

For some reason, that only made you cry harder. He squeezed your arm, sending a rush of heat through your skin.

“No,” you said, voice trembling and arm stinging. “I’d rather die.”

You looked up into his face and realised that this was the first time since his arrival on your doorstep that he’d actually looked at you. His gaze drifted from your tearful face to your heated arm to the cut on your finger from the wedding bouquet. You hadn’t gotten the chance to put on a band aid. He stared at the dressing table mirror behind you for an uncomfortably long time.

Something changed in his expression and he dropped your arm, saying nothing as you held it to your body. He said nothing, in fact, even as he left the room and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving you alone in the enormous bedroom.

You dropped to the floor and hugged your knees to your chest, sobbing silently at this terrible sequence of events. You hated your father, hated your new home, hated the heavy footsteps of your new husband as he prowled the hallways.

You stared into the dressing table mirror as he had, taking in your tearstained face and white wedding dress. You knew that under different circumstances you were beautiful. There had never been any point in denying it. You had taken advantage of it at the hostess bar, using your youth and good looks to make a fortune.

You were not beautiful then, though. Your hair was a mess and your arm pink where he’d held onto you. You rubbed the tears from your eyes and got to your feet, stepping closer to the mirror and loosening your gown.

He had told you that he would not have sex with you, and you wondered why, running your fingers over your exposed chest. Many men had tried and failed to get you into bed, be it buying expensive trinkets or leaving you hefty tips. You were all too aware that your body was the only thing you had left to barter and Endeavour meant to take ownership of that too. He had not lost control that day, but someday he would.

You vowed that you would never allow it, no matter what it took.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You spent the evening listening out for Endeavour’s footsteps in the hall, waiting for the inevitable moment he came back to the bedroom, to sleep if nothing else. He never came back, though, and you fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, sprawled across the bed.

You woke a matter of hours later with a crick in your neck, eyes burning from keeping them open for so long. You squeezed your eyes shut and willed your surroundings to be different when you opened them. With any luck, you’d wake up back in your own bed to your own alarm clock, your father calling for you to get up and make coffee.

That’s not what happened, though. You were still in the master bedroom at Endeavour’s house -now your house- in the same wedding dress you’d had on the night before. You wondered what time it was. Sunlight shone through the blinds but, given it was the middle of summer, that didn’t mean much. It could have been four in the morning or two in the afternoon.

Someone was trying to wake you, though, someone knocking at your door far too gently to be your husband. You sat up and hobbled over to the door, wondering what on earth would greet you when you opened it.

In the end, you need not have worried.

It was a member of the house staff, clutching a pile of clothes and letting herself into the room the moment you opened the door.

“Good morning,” she said without looking at you, setting the clothes down onto the bed. “I’m here to get you ready for breakfast.”

“Oh, I…”

“Mr. Todoroki has decided you should wear this today,” she said, picking up a white summer dress from the pile.

“Thank you,” you said, “but I-”

You had clothes of your own. You remembered packing them the day before your wedding.

“Your bathroom is across the hallway,” she said, as if you’d said nothing at all. “Let me know if there’s something else you require.”

You accepted the outfit she held out to you, deciding to humour her for now. You would change into your own clothes when she wasn’t looking.

“One more thing,” she said, as you headed for the door. “Mr. Todoroki wanted you to have this.”

She held out a small jewellery box and you stared at it, picking it up in curiosity. You already had a wedding ring, what could this be?

You didn’t want to open it while the other woman was there, so you carried it into the bathroom with you.

You had never had your own bathroom before and, much like everything else in the house, this one was unnecessarily large. Someone had filled the cupboards with everything you might need: freshly laundered towels, aspirin, soaps, a toothbrush still in its packaging. It was as if you had entered a hotel bathroom and not a room of your very own.

You opened up the jewellery box as you ran yourself a bath. Inside was a pair of diamond earrings that sparkled in the light. They were beautiful, undoubtedly, but you weren’t sure you wanted to wear them. You had worn your mother’s earrings almost every day since her funeral and didn’t want to change that now.

You closed the box and set it to one side, stealing glances at it as you soaked in the bathtub. You would thank your husband later. It was the least you could do.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You arrived at the breakfast table a short while later, stomach fluttering from nerves and hunger. You had no idea what awaited you, only that your mouth watered at the smell of food, in no small part because you hadn’t eaten anything since the previous day.

The housekeeper showed you to the breakfast table and, for a moment, you wished you had stayed in your room. Suddenly you were the main focus of four sets of eyes.

Endeavour and his children all sat at the table, clearing their plates in silence. The children appeared more than a little baffled to see you there and your stomach churned. Something about this was very, very wrong.

“Sit,” said Endeavour, motioning to the seat closest to him. That wasn’t wholly necessary, for all three of his children seemed to have positioned themselves as far away from him as possible.

You crossed the room, conscious all of the time of everyone’s eyes on you.

“This is (Name),” said Endeavour as you sat down beside him. “She’s going to be your mother from now on.”

In that moment, you realised the real reason for his children’s absence at your wedding. This was the first they had heard about the marriage.

You couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be in their shoes. If your father had brought home a strange new woman following your mother’s death, you would almost certainly have hated her guts.

You wanted to tell them that you had about as much desire to be there as they did, but the tension in the room was too much to bear.

“I…”

The oldest of the two boys, presumably Natsuo, was the first to speak.

“What the hell do you mean? What...wh…”

“Natsuo,” murmured the girl, presumably Fuyumi. “Don’t…”

“Isn’t it enough that mother’s in a hospital because of you? Now you’re going to replace her with some...some…”

“Natsuo,” said Fuyumi, stopping her brother before he could land on the word ‘whore’.

Endeavour sipped his tea, apparently used to these sorts of outbursts. You wondered how many arguments could prompt this sort of indifference.

“As I said. (Name) is your new mother. You will give her the proper respect.”

Just as the night before, he offered no room for argument. The table fell into silence once again, though only for a matter of seconds.

“I’m not going to call her mother,” said Natsuo, to which his sister elbowed him in the ribs.

“Natsuo, that’s enough,” she hissed, before turning to you with a weak smile. “Welcome to the family...m…”

She cleared her throat, glancing from you to Endeavour, who watched her in turn.

“Mother.”

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

Endeavour left for work shortly after, announcing that you were not to leave the grounds except to meet him at the door when he returned. Just like that, he left you alone with his children, two of which swiftly dismissed themselves from the table. Only the youngest remained and he stole glances at you every so often with his mismatched eyes. You wondered how he had ended up with such a prominent burn mark on his face. You told yourself you didn’t want to know.

He got to his feet after clearing his plate, conflict visibly playing out across his face.

“Excuse me,” he said, before leaving the room.

You picked at your food for a little while before giving up, Endeavour’s words playing over and over in your mind. You were not to leave the grounds. You were to be the mother of his children, but none of them would be yours. He would decide what clothes you wore, which rooms of the house you went in. You had come to him a virgin and, as he had no intention of having sex with you, would remain so for the rest of your life. Overnight your life had become just as muted as the white roses he had picked out for you.

You wondered why his previous wife had ended up in a hospital. Had her circumstances been at all similar to yours?

No, you decided, they couldn’t have been. She was the mother of each one of the children at his breakfast table. There had clearly been some sort of physicality between them.

In that case, why were you so different?

What had changed in the past few years?

┍━━━━━━━♔━━��━━━━┑

After breakfast you went to your bedroom to change out of the summer dress and into your own clothes, only to make a shocking discovery. You remembered packing your clothes; remembered sobbing into them as you took them from your drawers. You had expected them to have been taken into your wardrobe or stored somewhere in your room, but you couldn’t find them anywhere. The only clothes in your wardrobe were the ones the housekeeper had brought in earlier.

You told yourself that it had to be a mistake. You rifled through the wardrobe and under your bed for a flash of colour or anything familiar, though found nothing of the sort. When you flagged down the house staff, they seemed just as confused as you. Mr. Todoroki had said nothing about your possessions coming to the house. He had, however, made it perfectly clear that you were to have new clothes based on his own incredibly specific preferences. You were to have nothing made of silk or satin, no lace embroidery or skirts above the knee. Your necklines were to be no lower than your collarbones and the heels on your shoes three inches high at most.

He meant for no one to see you but himself and that only made you more determined to hide yourself from view.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

Days passed, each as slowly as the next, a never ending cycle of silent meals, boredom and your husband’s predictable nightly visits. Every night, just as every night before it, he would close the door to your bedroom and speak the same single word.

“Strip.”

You refused every night and he pressed the matter over and over until he grew tired.

That first night was the only time he ever touched you. He did not lean down for a kiss when he returned to the house. He never once reached for your hands. He would slam the door behind him and stomp around the house but he did not try to drag your clothes off himself.

Weeks passed by, in fact, without you so much as sharing a bed. A lot of the time he did not even eat meals with the rest of the family. The house staff explained that he very often slept away from the main building, in a secluded part of the estate once reserved for his youngest son.

Sometimes you slept naked, just to spite him.

One day, you told yourself, he would get bored of your constant refusals and send you back to your father. Until then you would have to be resilient.

You thought you had everything worked out. You thought you had him all worked out.

As with so many other aspects of your life, though, you soon realised your mistake.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

Three weeks into your marriage, you sat on the porch with a bowl of shaved ice in an attempt to combat the summer heat. By then you knew every square inch of the garden; knew the title of every book in the house. As miserable as it was, the most exciting part of your day was waiting at the gate for your husband, but even that was hours from then.

Your only other source of entertainment was the cat that very often came to bask in the afternoon sun, though more recently had taken to nudging you for pets to the head. On this particular day, it was chasing butterflies through the garden and you laughed as you watched. You wished you could be as free as that cat, coming in and out of this household whenever you pleased. You missed your friends, missed going out for drinks, missed going shopping for new shoes. Hell, you even missed your father. You hadn’t heard from him since the wedding.

You took a spoonful of shaved ice, enjoying the cold against your tongue. For the briefest of moments, all was right in the world.

That is, until the butterfly the cat had been chasing changed course and flew into the house, leaving the cat to follow suit. You set down your bowl and cursed under your breath, getting up to catch it before chaos ensued.

You rushed through the hallways, peering into every corner for the cat or the butterfly and seeing neither. You wondered where they had gone and wandered deeper into the house.

The cat streaked across your path, heading towards the bedrooms and you gave chase, reaching out to catch it and following it through an open door. You didn’t stop to think about which room you had gone into, far too caught up in the euphoria of scooping the cat into your arms. The moment you turned to leave, however, you realised your mistake.

This room was even emptier than the others, save for an altar lined with photographs of the same boy. Touya, you realised. There was no one else it could be.

This was the room Endeavour had told you not to come into and in that moment you understood why. When your mother died, you had been angry at everyone; yourself for every argument you had ever had; your father for allowing such a tragedy to happen. You hadn’t wanted to go to her funeral, didn’t want to accept that any of it was real.

You couldn’t imagine how it felt to lose a child and it must have shown in your body language, for the cat suddenly wriggled out of your arms and escaped through the open door.

You hugged your arms around your body, a chill creeping up your spine. Touya gazed out at you from every photograph, the same stern look in his eyes that Endeavour had. You weren’t supposed to be there and even the room seemed to know.

“What are you doing here?”

Someone called to you from the doorway, dragging you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Natsuo standing there, practically trembling with anger.

“I,” you said, realising how it must have looked. “I’m sorry, I-“

“This is my brother’s room,” he said. “You have no right to be in here.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, “a cat came in here and...I’m sorry...I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn't,” said Natsuo. “Why would you? It’s not like he’d ever tell you the truth. Even the worst of the worst would turn their noses up if they knew.”

He laughed miserably and you wondered what he meant. No one would turn their noses up at a grieving parent.

“How does it feel,” he said, “being married to a murderer?”

At that, your blood ran cold.

“What are you talking about?”

You didn’t like where this conversation was going.

You remembered how you had felt on your wedding day; your observation that Endeavour was more monster than man.

You had fallen so far into good behaviour and small victories that you had forgotten your fear on that first night.

You clapped a hand over your mouth for fear that you’d be sick and stumbled back out of the house. You needed fresh air, needed to escape. You walked along the garden path and didn’t stop, leaving the grounds far behind you.

You knew Endeavour had forbidden you from leaving. You knew he would be furious when he returned home and found you gone. You couldn’t stop, though, walking as far as the business district before finally stopping for air.

You hadn’t planned any sort of escape and it showed. You had no money for train fare and had left your phone in the house.

There was really only one place you could go.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

White Rabbit was the best known hostess bar in Musutafu and for good reason. It was sleek and stylish and, most importantly, discreet. All of its employees were carefully vetted and given months of training, making their debut only when they were as confident at karaoke as they were making cocktails.

The bar didn't open until the evening, but the boss was always on site by noon, crunching numbers and checking stock.

He was polishing glasses at the bar when you walked through the door and it was immediately clear that he didn’t recognise you.

“Ahhh, apologies, we aren’t open just yet!”

“Not even to me?”

He froze when you got a little closer, eying you from head to toe.

“It can’t be… (Name)??!?!”

He set aside the glass before you could answer, rushing out from behind the bar to look at you properly.

“As I live and breathe,” he said, “I didn’t recognise you.”

You glanced at your reflection in a nearby mirror, taking in your sweaty face and modest dress. You weren’t sure you would have recognised yourself either in his position.

He drew you into a hug and it took everything you had not to cry. You were still a minor when you interviewed for a job in his bar, but he took you on anyway, concerned that if left to wander the streets you would end up somewhere far less reputable. He kept you in training until your eighteenth birthday and even then kept you away from one on one sessions until you turned twenty.

He poured you a drink and you gave him the bare bones of the past few weeks, from your sudden marriage to your new role as a stepmother to your husband’s desire for nothing more than to see you naked.

You said nothing of your earlier conversation with Natsuo. That part was still sinking in.

The boss nodded at just the right moments, though didn’t seem at all surprised by anything you told him.

“I did wonder if that would be the case,” he said at last. “I suppose I share some of the blame in this matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...you see...I was the one who told him your name.”

“You what ?”

This wasn’t a betrayal, but it felt like one.

Your boss sighed and took a seat beside you, his own story to tell.

About a year and a half ago a man came into the bar, offering obscene amounts of money for his presence to be kept a secret. He refused to hand over his name and was almost unrecognizable without his costume or fiery beard, but your boss was far too clever to be fooled. He knew within an hour or two that this man was the flame hero and was only too happy to adhere to his requests. If Endeavour became a regular, there was a lot of money in it for him.

It paid off, for Endeavour did indeed become a regular, even if your boss didn’t fully understand his reasons until later. He had no interest in booking company and always ordered the same drink, demanding that only the boss waited on his table. He wanted to be left alone and drink in peace and for months that was exactly what he did.

That all changed about a year ago, when one of the hostesses caught his attention. You. Endeavour still wanted to drink in privacy, with only the boss to attend him, but he also wanted to be positioned where he could see you. You and only you were permitted to mix his drinks.

You could barely believe your ears at this new information. You remembered having to drop whatever you were doing to mix strawberry daiquiris for a VIP, though would never in a million years have guessed it was Endeavour.

The mystery of the Strawberry Daiquiri Man had plagued you for months. You had chatted about it with the other girls and even tried to wheedle details from your boss. He was a professional, though, and far too discreet to let anything slip.

Endeavour’s requests soon got out of hand. He paid extra to have you spend the night at the bar instead of entertaining customers. He gave you hefty tips, he had the boss send you jewellery, all of which you sold shortly after.

About six months ago he asked the boss how much he would have to pay to sleep with you, to which the boss refused to answer. Some things just weren’t for sale, even to a VIP. Of course, as you yourself knew quite well, Endeavour did not take kindly to being told no. He told the boss that he had to have you; he needed you to be his and his alone. After many not too subtle threats, be it asking how fire resistant the bar actually was to implying that he might look the other way the next time he learned of trouble in the area, the boss caved and told him your full name. He offered up no further information, but that was all it took for him to find you.

The rest, as they say, was history. He showed up on your doorstep and bought you from your father, finally possessing you completely.

“I don’t understand,” you said, stirring your soda with your straw. “On our wedding night he said he had no intentions of having sex with me...but you’re telling me he was willing to pay?”

“I think he would have done just about anything for the privilege. I’ve never seen a man so heated...so to speak.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” you said. “Any of it.”

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

The weight of recent revelations was almost too much. With your boss’s blessing, you let yourself into the dressing room upstairs to take a breather and evaluate your situation.

You hadn’t realised how much you missed the familiar scent of stale perfume and pot pourri that lingered in every corner. There was still a pile of glossy magazines on the dressing table; still a set of abandoned pantyhose draped over the stool. You had spent so much time there over the past decade that it felt like coming home.

You were tempted to sit down at the table and indulge yourself further, but had a sudden flash of inspiration. You hadn’t come into this room when you handed in your notice. You had been too upset at the prospect of never coming back. As a consequence, you hadn’t emptied your locker, where you kept a set of spare clothes in case of booze related emergencies.

Your fingers shook as you entered the combination, praying that the boss hadn’t emptied it ahead of hiring a replacement. Fate seemed to be on your side, though, for jeans and an envelope of cash greeted you the moment it clicked open.

You snatched up the envelope and counted the notes. You had always kept a secret stash away from the house, knowing that your father wasn’t above searching your room in search of money. There was enough there for a plane ticket; enough to cover a hotel for several weeks.

You realised that this was your chance to escape.

You also realised that you weren’t going to take it.

Endeavour had found you using just a name. He would almost certainly figure out that one of the first places you would go was the White Rabbit. He had already threatened to burn the bar; who knew what he would do if he got into his head that the boss had helped you flee?

And then there was Natsuo’s revelation. Considering how he felt about you, it wasn’t out of the realms of possibility that he had been lying to you. Perhaps your swift escape was exactly what he wanted.

That said, if Endeavour truly had killed a child, should you leave his children alone with him?

You still had a great many questions. You didn’t understand why Endeavour had wanted so desperately to sleep with you, only to tell you he never would. Why had he gone to such a bar in the first place? What had happened to Touya? Why did your husband live away from the main residence?

There were too many pieces to this puzzle and none of them fitted together, but one thing you knew for certain.

No matter where you went, he would almost certainly track you down. If you went back, at least, it would be on your own terms.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You returned to the house a short while later, just in time for your daily text message from your husband. He always texted you before leaving the office and then again a few minutes later if you had not yet replied. You weren’t sure what would happen if you failed to respond to the second one, largely because waiting for Endeavour to text was the most eventful part of your day.

You responded to the text and then packed away the clothes from your locker. The envelope of money you stashed away in the bathroom, emptying out the bottle of aspirin and rolling your notes inside.

It was like smuggling contraband and easily the most fun you had had since arriving at the house. It gave you a newfound confidence for when your husband came to your room. You were going to ask him about his presence at the bar; you were going to ask him about Touya. You felt brave enough to do just about anything.

That night, though, he didn’t come and you kept yourself awake long into the early hours of the morning, listening out for his footsteps as you had on that first night. Once again, you fell asleep sprawled across the bed, only to be woken by the house staff the following morning.

Endeavour, as it turned out, had outfoxed you.

He had arranged for you to take a trip that weekend to a private onsen in the mountains. As husband and wife you would almost certainly have to share a room and you would have little choice but to take off your clothes.

You scowled in the car all of the way there. This was supposed to be your victory. You were supposed to be the one holding all of the cards.

You refused to undress for him. Just the thought made you angry.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You had to hand it to him. The mountains were beautiful.

You peered out of the window as you arrived in your room, taking in the sight of the summer flowers and open air. It almost distracted you from the elephant in the room; the single futon you would share for the night. You refused to think about it, grateful for the simple hiking trail around the property. You occupied yourself with admiring the view, wandering ahead of Endeavour and snapping pictures on your phone of the skyline.

Your stomach churned as you sat down to dinner, time steadily running out. You had no idea how you were going to get out of this. You couldn’t think of a single scenario where you came out on top. You stared into space as you showered your body, fastening your towel far tighter than was necessary and pinning your hair loosely in the hopes that it would fall.

Despite the steam and summer heat, you shivered as you stepped out towards the bath. Under ordinary circumstances you would have been excited at the prospect of relaxing under the stars, but right then you were terrified. You clenched your hands into fists to hide how much they shook.

The simmering heat; the silent night. Was this how it felt to enter a dragon’s lair?

“Sit there,” said Endeavour, pointing to the side of the bath.

You blinked.

You had expected him to watch you undress. Why, then, was he instructing you to sit away from the water?

Your bewilderment must have shown in your face, for he sighed deeply.

“Just sit there,” he said, sounding just as frustrated as every time you had refused him.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you went to sit down where he had asked. Endeavour waited for you to be fully seated before stepping towards the water. He looked you straight in the eye and then cast aside the towel covering his waist.

You willed yourself to be modest and look away from his nakedness, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

When he wore clothes he was imposing.

Without them he was magnificent.

He had a broad chest and sculpted waist, all of which was covered in a fine layer of hair. The evening sunlight cast shadows across his muscles, highlighting every contour and scar. He practically shone where the water touched him and your mouth ran dry.

His hair grew thicker on the lower half of his body, though it did nothing to hide how thick his thighs were, nor the sheer enormity of his cock even while flaccid. You caught yourself staring at it, wondering how big it would be at full tilt. If his fingers were anything to go by, it would leave you limping for days.

Your stomach fluttered, though not from fear. Had his jawline always been so sharp? Had his eyes always been so bright?

It was as if he had been carved from stone and he let you stare at him, not in the least bit self conscious. He sat down in the water and leaned back against the edge you were sitting on, close enough that you could reach him if you wanted to.

You realised with horror that you did.

“Something wrong?”

“N-no,” you said, turning away to look over the horizon. “Nothing.”

You weren’t used to this sort of desire. It crept over you unbidden, like the steam from the bath.

You closed your eyes, taking in the sounds of birdsong and gurgling water.

“Move over,” you said, shifting positions.

“Wh-”

Endeavour turned to you, mystified.

“Don’t look,” you pouted, getting to your feet and fiddling with your towel. You cast it aside like a second skin and stepped down into the ghostly waters

The water was hotter than you had thought; it prickled your skin as you sank. You didn’t know why you were surprised. Endeavour was a flame hero, it made sense that he was used to heat.

He simmered next to you even then, warmth radiating from his body.

You sank down to your collar bones, shielding as much of your body from view as you did when fully clothed. You sat in silence, listening to the sound of birds overhead. You realised that this was the longest you had been alone with your husband since the wedding.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Hmm?”

“For the jewellery.”

You still hadn’t gotten the chance to thank him. The only time he normally spoke to you was when he asked you to undress. It was leagues out of the ordinary and he seemed to think so too, for he stayed quiet for a few seconds.

Finally he nodded his head and grunted by way of response.

“You don’t wear them,” he said.

“No. They’re just so beautiful...I’m afraid I might ruin them.”

He fell quiet again at that, awkwardness bleeding out of his words when he next spoke.

“I would like it...if you wore them.”

Perhaps it was the change in your surroundings; perhaps it was your mutual state of undress. Whatever the explanation, this was not the man who had grabbed your arm on that first night. This one was subdued and clumsy in his kindness and you wondered which one was real.

You hugged your knees to your chest, just as you had on your wedding night. This time, though, you did not cry.

“Endeavour,” you said.

“Hmmm?”

“What happened to Touya?”

He stiffened at that and, for a second, you were sure the water burned. You realised that you had certainly poked at a sore spot, but knew it would be a long time before you got such an opportunity again.

“Why are you asking about that?”

The tension in his body showed in his voice too.

“I just...I’ve heard... certain things.”

“Like what?”

You chose your words carefully, making sure not to name Natsuo.

“I heard that...well…”

You turned to look at him and he glared right back, searching your face for hints at what you were about to ask.

“Well? Spit it out.”

You told yourself that this was no time to be afraid.

“I heard he was dead...and…”

“And I killed him?”

You closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

Endeavour sighed, sinking down into the water.

You willed him to tell you it was a lie; a bit of maliciousness on his son’s part. In Natsuo’s place you would have done the same.

He didn’t, though.

“That’s right,” he said. “I did kill him.”

Despite the heat from the water, the steam, from him, his words sent shivers down his spine. He said it as casually as if you’d asked if he had remembered to pack a handkerchief.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” He asked. “Does it make you feel better?”

He moved to get to his feet, but you reached for his arm. He froze on the spot at your touch and you realised that this was the first time you had touched him of your own volition.

“Wait,” you said, taking advantage of his hesitation. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“I’m your wife,” you said. “Right now it’s my main concern.”

You had him and you knew it. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and cursed under his breath, though didn’t try to shrug you off.

“Fine,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. From the beginning.”

You didn’t want to flinch from this. You wouldn’t flinch from this. He was a pro hero and there had to be a reason, even if it wasn’t one you wanted to hear.

“Touya was my first born,” he said. “My first attempt.”

“Attempt? Attempt at what?”

He glared at you and you fell silent.

“I’ve been the number two since I was twenty,” he said. “I knew I always would be even then. With my own strength, I could never beat All Might. Another’s strength, though, refined and perfected…"

He lifted a hand out of the water and clenched it into a fist, the water on his hand turning to steam.

“My knowledge...my techniques,” he said, “everything I am and more…”

“And that was Touya?”

“Touya,” he nodded, “and then Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shoto. Until we got to Shoto not one of them was perfect. Fuyumi and Natsuo both favoured their mother’s side of the family. Touya favoured fire, but inherited his mother’s constitution.”

“Constitution?”

“R-My ex wife is an ice user. When Touya got his quirk, he set himself on fire,” he said. “My body is built to burn, but his wasn’t. His was built to insulate and trap heat to protect against the cold. However hot his flames burned, his body burned twice over. If he used his quirk for too long, he broke out in blisters and burns. Fire users run hotter than most people and Touya…well...his flames ran hotter than mine.”

You swore you saw him smile at that. You got the feeling he meant it in more ways than one.

“Shoto is my heir,” he said. “He is the perfect combination of fire and ice. His body does not burn or freeze. That one will achieve what I could not…”

“But…”

“...but it came at a cost. Namely, my ex wife’s mental state. I made a lot of mistakes...did some things I’m not proud of. One day I… heard Shoto screaming. His mother had burned him. I’ve never heard a noise like it. I don’t think I ever will.”

“If she was an ice user, how did she burn him?”

“Kettle.”

“Oh.”

“She’s in a hospital now,” he said. “I had her taken away. Our marriage was over.”

“Because she hurt your son?”

“She damaged my property.”

You didn’t know why you were surprised to hear him speak such a way of his children when he had told your boss that he had to possess you. Even so, it stung.

Not to mention, you still had questions.

“But… what does this have to do with Touya?”

“He was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Rei, my ex wife...Touya’s death was what truly broke her in the end.”

“What happened to him?”

“One day, in training, we both lost our temper. His technique was wrong; he’d been slacking off; he hadn’t taken heed of any of my lessons. He told me he didn’t want to be a hero, which was ridiculous. Of course he’d be one. Once he managed to endure his own flames, he would be an even stronger flame user than me.”

You had a feeling you knew what was coming next.

“He was angry that day. I told him he’d be a hero whether he wanted to or not and he told me that he’d rather die. In the end...he chose death. I sent him away...somewhere he could still be of use. A government program...They told me later that he burned his flames far hotter than he ever had before, so hot that he burned himself alive. He died in the hospital two days later. The doctors told me that even if he had survived, he would have needed full body skin grafts and the kickback from his quirk would be far more severe than before.”

Endeavour closed his eyes, leaning back against the water’s edge.

“I don’t understand,” you said, “Touya killed himself. That wasn’t you.”

“I didn’t hand Rei the kettle either,” he said, “but I might as well have.”

You weren’t sure what to say. It felt inappropriate somehow. In the end, you settled on your own suspicions.

“How long ago...with Rei, I mean? When did she leave?”

“Two years ago. Why?”

“No reason,” you said. “I was just curious, is all.”

You weren’t lying; you really were curious, just not necessarily in the way he thought. He didn’t know that you had talked to your boss and, consequently, knew he had started coming to the White Rabbit only a matter of months after his wife’s hospital admission.

The pieces of the puzzle were changing shape, though you still couldn’t quite see the greater picture. You still couldn’t understand why he had married you; why he had so desperately needed to possess you, only to hold you at a distance. There was a reason somewhere and you were infuriatingly close to finding it.

Endeavour watched you, no doubt trying to gauge your reaction. He did not seem to approve of your silence and stood up once again, getting up out of the baths and reaching for his towel.

“Wait,” you said, turning to face him.

You wanted to thank him for telling you the truth; for exposing himself to you so unapologetically.

You stood up yourself and exposed your own body, though only to waist level. You straightened your back and looked him dead in the eye in an attempt to hide how nervous you actually were. You might have worked in a hostess bar, but no man had ever seen you naked. You waited there in silence, watching as he took in the swell of your breasts and shade of your nipples. You wondered what sort of expectations he might have harboured and if the real thing lived up to them. Whatever the case may be, he finally gathered his composure with a ‘tccch’ and stormed back inside.

You decided to count that one as a victory.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You stayed in the bath for a while longer before returning to your room.

You realised as you reached for the door handle that you had forgotten all about the shared futon, which filled you with a far different sort of fear than before. You now knew what your husband looked like without his clothes; if you slept beside him you wouldn’t get any sleep. All it would take was a brush of his body against yours to leave you thinking about how he had looked climbing out of the water.

To your surprise, Endeavour seemed to have already anticipated this. During your absence, he had swapped the double bed for two singles, along with a shield to divide both beds. Your husband had already gone to sleep with his back to the barricade, snoring softly.

It was a kind gesture and you couldn’t help but smile as you changed into your nightclothes and tucked yourself into bed, eyes darting to the shield and your husband’s silhouette. Even then, laid on his side, his back was broader than any you’d seen. You wondered how it might feel to drag your nails across it and then cursed yourself for doing so.

He was just a man, you told yourself. There were millions of them in the world.

You hadn’t seen all of them naked, though.

You didn’t want them as you wanted him.

He slept with his back to the shield, but you slept facing it, smoothing your fingertips over the wood until you fell asleep.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

The next few weeks were a new brand of torture.

The summer grew even hotter and you spent much of your time on the porch, drinking iced tea and fanning yourself to no avail. No matter how many ice cold baths you took, no matter how few clothes you wore as you slept, no matter how many windows you opened, nothing could cool you down and you feared the summer heat wasn’t entirely to blame.

Your husband no longer begged you to undress. Since returning from the onsen he had not come to your room at all and it bothered you more than you liked to admit.

You wondered if you had made a terrible mistake by letting him see you.

Every time you crossed paths in the house, you caught yourself eying the parts of his clothes that pulled against his muscles, knowing what lay beneath.

It was a problem.

You were starting to want him to come to your room. You wanted him to beg and plead to see more of you, just so you could have the pleasure of telling him no.

You wanted his attention, wanted to feel his gaze on your body, though had to settle for your own fingers. You touched yourself every night that he neglected you, running a hand between your legs and tentatively running your finger across your clit, which had never seen so much attention in the twenty seven years you had walked the earth.

You would think of him as you dipped your fingers into your folds, thinking of how much bigger his hands were than yours. You wondered how much he would have to warm you up before you could comfortably take his cock.

Every night you touched yourself and brought yourself to a boil, though it did nothing to ease the pressure inside of you. You would lay there, flat on your back and legs trembling, pleasure overtaking each of your senses, and none of it would be enough. It didn’t matter how hard you came, how much you changed positions or technique, your real desire ran far deeper.

One night, two and a half months after your wedding, you gave up on trying to make yourself cum.

You wanted him to want you so you could push him away...

You wanted him to want you...

You wanted him…

You wanted…

“Fuck,” you hissed, flopping back against the covers. “Ffffuck.”

You were sure you were going crazy. Every time he passed you now, you had to squeeze your thighs together.

This was how it felt to suffocate.

This was how it felt to die.

...die….

The word lingered at the back of your mind.

How ironic that only a short time ago you had told the same man that you’d rather die than let him see you naked, let alone touch you.

You closed your eyes, only for them to snap right back open. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position and stared across at your reflection in the dressing table mirror.

Could it really have been that simple?

You thought back to Endeavour’s tale at the onsen; his son’s last words before burning himself alive.

I’d rather die.

They were the same as yours on your wedding night and only now did you make the connection. Endeavour had stared into the mirror then too, and you had always assumed it was your reflection that made him flinch. You knew now, though, that you were wrong. He had been looking at his own.

That realisation was your rosetta stone, leaving every other piece of information to fall into place.

He had introduced you to his children as their new mother, for in his mind he had ruined the last one. What was it he had called Touya? His first attempt? He had told you without a hint of hesitation that each of his children had been born in the hopes of improving upon the last. Refined and perfected...an extension of himself.

You realised that the same was true of your marriage.

Losing his son and sending his wife away to a hospital had almost certainly brought to light a number of harsh truths. You weren’t the only one who had looked at him and seen a monster.

Just like Rei, you were the means to an end.

You were an exercise in self control.

He had held himself at a distance to prove to himself that he could. He had chosen to keep you chaste and childless because he desired the opposite and acting on his previous desires had ended in disaster.

Just like that, you understood your situation.

You knew what you had to do.

You got up from the bed and rummaged through your wardrobe, dragging out the pile of clothes you had smuggled out of the White Rabbit . Among your jeans and spare shoes was a silk nightgown, left behind for the occasions you slept at the bar. You pulled it on like a second skin, giving yourself a twirl and watching in the mirror as the fabric caught the light.

Next, you reached into your dressing table drawers for the various pieces of jewellery he had given you over the past few weeks. For the first time in over a decade, you took out your mother’s earrings and swapped them with the shining diamond ones from your husband.

You combed out your hair and fastened your nightgown so tightly that it hid how bare you were underneath, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror before leaving the room. You paused in the kitchen, a wry smile breaking out across your face at the scheme coming to mind.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You had never been to the empty side of the property where Endeavour lived. You had no idea how he occupied himself when he wasn’t at work or sitting in stoic silence. You wondered what he was doing as you slipped away from the house, the moonlight shining on your pale nightgown.

You never did find out, knowing only that his voice rumbled through the door as you knocked.

You took a deep breath and opened the door, finally able to relate to your gambler of a father. This was just as much of a gamble as a round of poker, even if you knew you held all of the cards.

He had been getting ready for bed, wearing loose jogging pants and a tank that left little to the imagination. You weren’t sure who exactly he expected to visit at such a time of day, but you knew within an instant that it wasn’t you, much less as you were now. His eyes darted from your opalescent nightgown to your loose hair, to the earrings that twinkled as they hit the lamplight, to the blood red cocktails you had mixed before leaving.

Strawberry Daiquiris, stained red with Grenadine. Your speciality. His favourite.

“What are you doing here?”

You didn’t answer, instead walking straight past him.

As you had suspected, this house was a near perfect copy of the main building and you made your way to the bedroom as if by heart. You stopped at the door to the master bedroom, turning back to check if he followed, just as he had on the day of your wedding.

You were not nearly as nervous this time around.

This time you wanted him to swallow you whole.

He had not followed you, preferring to watch you prowl his home as if it belonged to you. You reached for the door handle and cocked an eyebrow.

“Well? Are you coming?”

That was enough to leave him lumbering forwards.

You stepped inside of the bedroom, waiting for him to follow before taking a seat at the foot of his bed.

“What are y-”

“Peppermint,” you said, to which he appeared confused.

“Peppermint?”

“It’s my safe word. What’s yours?”

He scratched his chin, though stepped closer. You got the feeling he had never had to think of one before, much less used one.

“I don’t have one,” he said at last. “Never needed one.”

“Peppermint it is, then,” you said, before straightening your back, a near perfect imitation of his own body language. “Now. Strip.”

Of all of the things you could have said, he definitely hadn’t been expecting that. He took another step closer.

“Undress me,” he said.

“No.”

He took another step closer, too close, and you lifted a leg, gently pressing your foot to his belly to retain the distance.

He was a big man, realistically speaking. If he wanted to, he could easily have swatted your leg away and taken command.

He took a step back, though, and peeled off his shirt, exposing his broad chest and defined stomach. You did not bother to be discreet, brazenly admiring his body and biting your bottom lip.

You were still holding your leg up, ready to hold him back if he came closer. He glanced from your leg to your hungry expression, before sighing and dropping his pants. He had not been wearing any sort of underwear and you took a sip of your drink, making a point to lick your lips as you dropped your leg.

He came closer and you stretched out your other arm, offering up the second cocktail.

Not only did he take it, but he swallowed it in one gulp, reaching up to rub the red smears from his lips. You downed your own and passed him the glass, taking the chance to admire his butt as he turned to place them on the nearest counter. There was something oddly satisfying about watching a naked man enjoy one of your drinks, especially when said naked man was as well built as this one.

He turned to look at you and this time you motioned for him to come closer. You continued to do so as he stepped forwards, only stopping to motion for him to get down on his knees. You fully expected him to protest at this point, but he dropped down immediately, looking up into your face with flushed cheeks.

You ran your fingers through his hair, wondering how you had ever been afraid of this man.

You lifted both of your legs, balancing one on each of his shoulders and reaching up to wipe the leftover syrup from your own lips. He ran his fingers over your exposed skin and spread you wide as you leaned back. You closed your eyes as you felt his warm breath on your cunt, willing him to touch you there.

Nothing could have prepared you, though, for how it would feel when he actually did. All it took was a stroke of his thumb across your clit to leave your mind falling blank. You gasped, back arching from the bed before you could stop it. He held you tighter, though did not continue, catching your eye the moment you opened them.

“Do...do that again,” you said, eyes rolling back into your head when he did.

He didn’t touch you with his lips at first, instead stroking his fingers around your folds, exploring the parts of you that he had wanted so badly. He chuckled at how wet you were, slipping the tip of his finger into you and swirling your wetness across your clit, sending a shockwave of shivers down your spine. He kissed the inside of your thigh and pinched a patch of your skin between his teeth. It would leave a mark in the morning and you didn’t care at all.

He parted your folds with one hand and held you open with the other, ghosting his tongue over your clit. You dug your nails into the bedcovers with a sigh and he ran his tongue across your flesh, sending a shudder of pleasure rocketing through your core. He turned his tongue in a figure of eight and wrote his name with his tongue, branding your cunt in the softest of ways.

You reached down to stroke your fingers through his hair, wanting to hold him there forever. He slipped a finger in then, though, and you dug your nails into his scalp. You had considered before how large his fingers were and it was apparent to you even then. He sucked at your clit and took it slowly, angling his finger to find that particular patch of nerves that would turn your insides to jelly. His touches made your stomach flutter, your legs quivering every time he made contact. You were grateful for his firm hand on your waist. Left to your own devices, you would almost certainly have been squirming in delight and grinding against his face.

He dipped his finger in and out and you willed him to go faster. The touches he didn’t make drove you just as crazy as the ones he did.

“Please,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair. “Oh g-”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He pumped his finger into you so quickly that you could hear the wet sound every time he made contact. You arched your back into him, the pressure building in your core and threatening to overflow. The combination of his tongue and finger was overwhelming.

He added another finger and you snatched up the hand that had been gripping the bedcovers, digging your teeth into your fist to stifle your moans. You were close...so close and you needed some form of anchor. He didn’t seem to approve of that, though, for he let go of your waist and reached up to take it, holding you tightly as you cried out in delight.

Your stomach fluttered with butterfly light flashes of pleasure, so close to the real thing and yet so far. You couldn’t think of anything more than the growing tension within you. You stretched an arm over your head and dug your nails into the bedcovers, crying out at how close you really were.

He stopped then, though, and peered up at you through the valley of your breasts, smirking at how flushed your cheeks were. He sat up and crawled up on the bed, planting both hands on either side of your head. You wrapped your legs around his waist before you could stop yourself, linking your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss, biting at his lips and sighing when he pushed his tongue against yours. You tightened your legs around him, relishing the feel of his stomach against yours and hard dick against your thighs.

You came back to earth as he tugged at your nightgown, a stark reminder of why you had gone to him in the first place.

You pushed both hands onto his chest and he allowed you to guide him, rolling over onto his back without a word of complaint. You sat up to straddle him, crushing your lips against his before sitting up to pull the tie from your nightgown.

His eyes brightened up at the slightest flash of your body, but it didn’t last for long. He reached a hand to drag away the final barrier between you, but you slapped away his hand. He seemed confused until you lifted the tie, finally understanding your real intentions.

You refused to be his experiment; refused to be docile and fragile because he said so. Your teeth were as sharp as his and he would not control you without your permission, just as you would not try to command him without his own.

He gave you a nod and sat up just a little, enough for you to drape the tie over his eyes and loop it into a simple knot. You waved a hand in front of his face and checked the gap as he laid back down, ensuring that he couldn’t see before sitting up straight and tossing aside the nightgown.

You sat down onto your hands and knees, planting soft kisses along his neck and shoulders. You kept them gentle until you reached his collar bone, at which point you sank your teeth into his skin, enough to leave a bruise but not to break the skin. He inhaled sharply and for a moment you wondered if you had gone too far, though that worry did not last for long. He reached up to stroke a hand across your exposed back, running his fingertips across your spine as you moved further down the bed.

If you had felt intimidated by the size of his dick before, you definitely were now that it was hard. It stood taller than any toy you had ever seen, much less owned, with a slight curve and prominent veins. He shuddered as you traced a single finger across one of the veins, fidgeting as you put that same finger between your lips and made an overly theatrical sucking sound, making sure to pop your lips as you pulled it back out.

“Oy,” he said, “that’s mean.”

“So am I,” you said, reaching up to squeeze your fingers around his shaft, slowly pumping your hand up and down and making sure to squeeze that much tighter as your fingers reached the tip. You leaned over and ran your tongue over the underside of his dick, mimicking the movements of your fingers until you were ready to take him into your mouth. You continued to pump your fist around his dick and bobbed your head along with the pace, making sure to suck him harder and harder and smack your lips whenever you let go.

“Fucking ffffff,” he snarled, reaching for your hair and gathering it in his hand to pin you in place. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

You made your feelings on the matter quite clear, spitting on his tip and giving him a quick stroke before taking all of him into your mouth, pushing your free hand against the bedframe and crushing the space between your thumb and forefinger, weakening your gag reflex and relishing the feel of him against your throat.

You were a virgin; not an angel. You’d watched your share of pornography.

He snarled in delight and you let go, pumping his dick far more furiously than before. You lowered the hand you had crushed against the bedframe and gave it a couple of quick clenches to restore sensation before running your fingers over your own poor, neglected clit. You touched your tongue to his dick, swirling it around the head and moaning into him whenever a pang of pleasure rushed through you.

You stole a glance at him and enjoyed what you saw. There was something sinfully sweet about the world’s number two hero falling apart at the touch of your tongue.

You wondered if anyone had given him head before.

Maybe you’d ask him when this was over.

You could tell he was close from his ragged breaths and increasingly tight grip on your hair. You didn’t know how much longer you would last either. You wanted him inside of you and found yourself jealous of your own lips and tongue.

You let go of him and crawled up the bed, straddling his waist and yanking off the makeshift blindfold. He stared up at you, drinking you in as he had the strawberry daiquiri. He reached up a hand to touch your breast and this time you let him, cupping the other yourself as you ground your pussy against him.

“Do you want me?” You asked through half-lidded eyes.

You knew the answer, but you wanted him to say it.

“Yes.”

“All of me?”

“And more.”

He swallowed drily, reaching out for your hip.

“Do you want me ?”

You closed your eyes, considering it. In truth, you did want him. You wanted his broad shoulders; wanted his rough edges; wanted his ambitions; wanted his guilt. Most of all, you wanted the lambswool he had so carefully hidden behind tiger stripes.

You smiled, considering your return to the house after your trip to the White Rabbit; the money you had tucked away in an aspirin bottle and never touched since.

“If I didn’t want you,” you said, opening your eyes and leaning your head to the side, “I wouldn’t be here.”

You sat up onto your knees and adjusted your position, taking his dick into your hand and sliding yourself down onto it. It was so much bigger than his fingers and took you a moment to adjust. You ground your hips, holding onto the hand he had placed on your hip. He loosened his grip to link his fingers with yours, holding you tight as you grew accustomed to his girth.

You rocked yourself, taking him slowly until you couldn’t stand it any longer. You arched your back and slammed yourself onto him, reaching up one hand to grab your hair and lift it over your shoulders, exposing you completely and giving him the perfect view of your bouncing breasts. The other you rested on your clit, frantically rubbing it every time your hips collided.

He squeezed your breasts; he held your hips; he groaned as you took him in. You planted your hand on his firm chest, slowing up as the tension inside of you broke.

“I’m coming,” you moaned, “oh god, I’m…”

You never got to finish that sentence, for the euphoria was too much. Your mind fell blank, the room fell into slow motion and you fell still for fear of ending the moment too soon. You cried out every time your insides squeezed around him and Endeavour watched, absorbing not only the tightness around his cock, but your own loss of control.

He pushed you backwards and spread your legs wide, pushing into you as you lay in a satisfied haze. You reached up to stroke his face as he slammed himself into you, sitting up onto his knees and holding your legs wide open as you fucked you harder. You could do nothing but watch and, in truth, you didn’t want to. It was as if all of the bones had left your body, pleasure washing over you like waves against the shore.

He bit your neck; you dragged your nails over his back. The time for common sense was gone and all you had left were animal instincts, every former pretense shattering around you like summer heat in a thunderstorm.

You dropped your hands to the bed and let him fuck you, losing track of where one wave of release came and another ended. He came with a roar, dragging himself out just in time to spill all over your stomach and breasts. You had expected him to come inside of you and found yourself oddly proud that he hadn’t.

You lay there for quite some time, catching your breath and rubbing your legs against his waist. He stared down at you as the fog lifted and he came back to earth, taking in the bite marks and puddle of semen he had left on your body. He hadn’t come out of it much better; scratches and bite marks on his neck, arms and most certainly his back.

The pair of you looked as bloody, bruised and dazed as if you had fought off a bear and you couldn’t help but smirk, admiring the tiger stripes and leopard spots you had left on each other.

He was yours and you were his.

Both of you human; both of you beasts.

#endeavor x reader #enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki #todoroki enji #boku no hero academia #eisc

319 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 2 years

Text

Serendipity

Word Count: 3030

Fluff, Romance, Canon-Compliant, Post-Timeskip

Summary: Kei gets dragged out to a bar by his friends to celebrate his impending graduation. He thinks it's going to be a big fat drag, but little does he know that he's in store for a most serendipitous encounter...

Hello, everyone! Here is my story for the Sendai Frogs Big Bang! Please go give my partner vie’s art all the love! And enjoy!

“Come on, Kei! You gotta live a little!” Tadashi wheedled as he tugged at Kei’s arm, trying to pull it from where it was crossed over his chest with the other. Kei just sniffed in annoyance, whipping his head around to glare at the driver’s side of the car. However, he was only met with Kentarou glowering threateningly at him. Kei groaned, rolling his head to let it flop against the headrest of the car seat. Tadashi had given up on his arm in favor of his leg, dangling it out the open door and tugging on it persistently.

“Okay, but why do we have to go bar-crawling?” Kei grumbled, turning to look at Tadashi once again.

“Because! You’re going to be graduating college!” Tadashi trilled and flashed him a giddy smile. “That’s an achievement worth celebrating!”

“By getting plastered?”

“Well, you don’t have to get plastered, but I sure as hell am,” Kentarou grunted. He switched off the car engine and stuffed the key down in his jacket pocket. Unless Kei figured out how to hot-wire a car, it looked like he wasn’t going to be escaping any time soon. He groaned one more time before finally relenting, relaxing his body so that Tadashi could haul him out. His best friend did so with much glee, dragging him up and standing behind him to place his hands on Kei’s shoulders.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Tadashi insisted while he steered Kei towards the bar—the first chosen venue of the night. Tadashi had explained that it was always best to begin “low-key” when bar-crawling, progressing to the more lively bars as the night grew deeper and the drinks grew stronger. However, nothing about this bar screamed “low-key” to Kei.

The patrons were already spilling out into the street despite the early evening hour, nursing beers and cocktails as they slurred loudly to one another or swayed clumsily to the music leaking out through the walls. Kei scowled as he felt the bass notes thrumming the air; it made his bones vibrate uncomfortably, like ants were crawling over his skin. But Tadashi’s grip on his shoulders was iron. He wasn’t going anywhere.

At least I’ll have the alcohol, he thought with a sigh.

Kentarou and Tadashi basically bullied him into the bar, delivering him to a bar stool. Tadashi ordered three shots of whiskey and demanded they clink them together. While Kentarou and Tadashi eagerly threw back the burning alcohol, Kei sipped his calmly. He closed his eyes as he did so; the music was thumping in his head, giving him the beginnings of a migraine. If he focused enough on the whiskey, maybe it would numb the pounding in his skull. And as it slid down his throat, igniting the nerves as it went, he imagined that it did, at least a little.

It was going to be a long night.

It didn’t take long for Tadashi to get absolutely sloshed—he never could hold his alcohol. He enjoyed drinking, however, because it made him less intimidated talking to girls. Within thirty minutes of them arriving, Tadashi was in the thick of the dance floor, grinning like an idiot as some pretty college girl danced all over him. He held his half-drunk beer above his head, not minding—or not noticing—that his vigorous grinding was making it tip and slosh all over him.

“I feel like this night out is more for him than it is me,” Kei sniffed and sipped at his whiskey.

“Oh, let him have his fun. He’s graduating soon, too,” Kentarou hummed. He was leaned up against the bar sipping at his own beer, the only sign that he was slightly inebriated being the slight haze of pink over his cheeks. “He thought that making it all about you would make it harder to refuse,” he smirked, turning glittering golden eyes on Kei. Kei whined loudly, looking away in embarrassment. Damn Tadashi, using his feelings of friendship against him.

Well, at least I don’t have a headache anymore, he thought with a sigh and finished off his whiskey. He signaled the bartender to pour him another. Feeling that Kei had resigned himself to a night on the town, Kentarou sauntered off, melding into the thick of the crowd. Kei propped his arms up on the bar and closed his eyes, trying to acclimate himself to the lively atmosphere as much as he could.

Bars had never really been his scene; he didn’t like how loud and sweaty and sloppy they were. Nor did he like to use them as a venue to meet women. He wasn’t really interested in dating anyone who wasn’t… He just…

“Tsukki? Tsukishima Kei?!”

Kei’s eyes open snapped open as someone—a female someone—called his name. He then reared back in shock as said female rushed him, zooming right up to him at the bar to clap her hands on his cheeks.

“It is you!” she squealed in delight. All he could see was fluffy blonde hair and big brown eyes and a blinding smile and rosy cheeks—it all dominated his senses, a confusing haze that made his heart stir in his chest while his neurons struggled to make the appropriate connections.

“H-Hitoka?” he finally realized. Unmistakably, it was Hitoka Yachi. Her smile brightened at his recognition, a cute blush rising to her cheeks.

“Oh my gosh! You remember me!” she giggled happily, even doing a little happy dance. Her hands were still squished into his cheeks, moving with each giddy motion of her body. He could only stare at her in shock. What a coincidence.

“What… What are you doing here?” he finally asked once it felt like his tongue was working properly.

“Oh! Sorry, I was just so excited to see you that I just surprised you, didn’t I? Sorry!” she said, pulling away from him. She dragged a barstool over and hopped up, crossing her legs. Her foot bumping against his calf made him instinctively glance down, and he felt the heat rush to his face when he realized that she was wearing a mini-skirt and tall boots. He had never known Hitoka to be so… daring.

“Ah… It’s a little much, isn’t it?” she flushed, and he could see her legs color a little with her rising body temperature. He hastily looked up at her face—catching sight of the loose blouse barely concealing her bandeau—to see her smiling bashfully and hiding her face behind her hands. “I’m here with my friends… One of them insisted I dress up like this. I was a little apprehensive, but, I wanted to try something a little different… I must look silly, though…”

“N-no,” he interrupted quickly. Even he was surprised at the conviction in his voice. He cleared his throat and shifted on the barstool, mumbling more calmly, “No, I think it suits you well. It may be a little different, but that doesn’t make it bad.”

Hitoka blinked, and then she gave him a smile sweet enough to give him cavities. He hid his blush with the glass of whiskey that the bartender slid over; he downed it in one big gulp, hoping the burning in his throat would replace the burning in his face. It didn’t, and so he was just left blushing and staring uncomfortably at her.

Kei couldn’t help it. He’d never thought about Hitoka that way, having been more interested in his studies and volleyball than girls throughout high school—but now, seeing her all dolled up while alcohol coursed through his veins, a certain attraction was beginning to creep up within him. It stuck in his throat like a rock, making the whiskey hard to swallow, but there was no way in hell he was going to leave now.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Kei,” she said. A good thing, too, because his gaze had started drifting back down to her provocative outfit, and his mind was trying to travel to places it really shouldn’t. He grimaced, pushing the whiskey glass away—that was enough of that. “I didn’t think you the type to come to bars.”

“I’m not,” he huffed. He gestured with his chin into the crowd, where Tadashi was currently lip-locking with the same pretty college girl that had been trying to meld their bodies together earlier. “Tadashi and Kentarou dragged me out to celebrate our upcoming graduations.”

Hitoka jumped up, her eyes bright, and followed Kei’s gaze to the absolutely sloshed Tadashi. She then giggled and sat back down, thinking it better not to interrupt Tadashi’s successful—albeit inebriated—courtship. “I’m beginning to think that he was just lonely again and wanted to kiss somebody. Not sure why he ever bothers, because he usually ends up crying into his beer by the end of the night because no matter drunk he gets, he’ll never resort to one-night stands.”

“Aw, he’s as sweet as ever,” Hitoka cooed. Kei found himself bristling with jealousy at the tone of her voice and the soft smile on her face as she watched Tadashi laugh and dance clumsily with the girl. Had she always looked at Tadashi like that? He knew they had a soft spot for one another in high school, but he didn’t think it was like… that. And even if it was, why did that bother him?

Not comfortable with the way his emotions were swirling, he cleared his throat and continued, “He wanted to go bar-crawling, but I’m assuming that we aren’t going anywhere soon. At least not until the girl tries to take him home and he refuses. Then he’ll want to go drown his sorrows somewhere else.”

“And you’re as blunt as ever!” Hitoka laughed. Kei felt his body flush again. He felt compelled to object, but Hitoka didn’t seem to be bothered by it. In fact, based on the gleam in her eyes and the smile on her face, it was something she seemed to find endearing about him.

Wow. The whiskey must have really gone to his head.

“Well, seeing as we’ll be here a while, let me buy you a drink,” he said, turning to hide the haze of pink on his face. Hitoka thanked him—God, how could she sound so adorable when saying it?—and ordered herself some kind of colorful fruity cocktail. She sipped at it daintily as they exchanged small talk, chronicling their lives for each other to fill in the gaps since high school. One cocktail became two became five, and soon Hitoka was swaying back and forth on the barstool while she cracked up at something Kei had said that wasn’t particularly funny.

Kei smiled bashfully as she fell against his shoulder, clutching onto it while her head bobbed against his bicep.

“Wow, this has been really, really fun… Ah, I haven’t been this stress-free in a while!” she hummed, using a finger to flick tears away from her eyes. She then looked up at him with watery, bleary eyes. Her smile suddenly took on a warm tone, one that made his heart thump against his sternum. She brought her face close, fluttering her blonde lashes, and Kei could only gawk awkwardly at her. “You know… You really have grown quite handsome, Kei.”

“Oh, erm… Thank you,” he said quietly. He wanted to turn and hide his blush again, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was just so captivated—everything about Hitoka was entrancing, even with her hair falling out of her up-do and into her face, her lip gloss smeared at the corners from sipping the cocktails, her face flushed and slightly sweaty and her mascara running a little from crying-laughing. Some might call her a mess, but to Kei, she was the most beautiful sort of mess.

“Not that you weren’t handsome before, of course,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. She straightened back up in her seat, and Kei quirked his eyebrow. What did she mean by that? She averted her gaze from him, chewing on her lip and shyly staring down at her lap. She squirmed a little as she quietly admitted, “Actually… I had the biggest crush on you in high school.”

“What? Me?” Kei blinked and pointed a finger at his chest. A crush? On him? It floored him. He would have thought her type was someone like Shouyou or Tadashi—someone sunny like her, not some moody sour low-key asshole like him. Hitoka laughed and put her cheek against her hand.

“I know! I still don’t really get it myself… Everyone could have sworn that I liked Shouyou and even that we were going out. I was very close to him, of course, but it was never like that.” Her expression turned bashful, and she looked at him almost apologetically. “Ah, I’m sorry! I don’t mean to sound like I’m justifying anything. I’m saying too much, aren’t I? Oooh, I’m sorry if I made it awkward! I just get really honest when I get alcohol in my system.”

Hitoka continued to nervously prattle on, but Kei ignored her. He was too busy turning gears in his head. Hitoka liked him in high school? Looking back, it sort of made sense—she always had seemed to make an attempt to be around and talk to him, seeking him out over the others when she didn’t have Shouyou—who probably put her anxiety at ease, in hindsight. Kei, like everybody else, had been soft for Hitoka, too. She was just so adorable and cute and pure; even he couldn’t find it within himself to be mean to her. But could it have been more than that? Could Kei have also harbored some sort of feelings for her, but have been too emotionally constipated to comprehend what it was?

He was starting to think so, considering that his heart hadn’t stopped pounding since Hitoka had sat down beside him. He ran his thumbs in circles over the smooth sides of the whiskey glass, swirling around the condensation that had formed as the ice had slowly melted.

“Kei? You’re not saying anything. You’re kind of making me nervous,” Hitoka chuckled nervously. He looked at her, then straightened up and quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I’m thinking.”

“Oh. What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking that I would like to go out with you.”

Hitoka’s mouth fell open. She pointed at herself, then at Kei, then back at herself. She nodded and pressed her lips together. And then, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell straight backwards.

“Holy shi—Hitoka!”

Kei lunged forward. He managed to grab her before she cracked the back of her head against the hard wood of the bar, grabbing her around her upper torso. The sudden movement made him straddle the barstool, as well as Hitoka’s legs. He leaned over her, panting slightly as he fearfully ogled her limp form. Just as he was beginning to tell the bartender to call an ambulance, Hitoka shuddered and groaned.

“Ohhh, dear… Well, that was exciting,” she laughed weakly. Her head bobbled on her neck like an unsteady toddler’s, slowly lolling until she looked up at him weakly. Holding a hand to her likely pounding head, she smiled placidly at him. “How long was I out? I had the strangest dream about you…”

“Hitoka, you’ve only been out a few seconds. That wasn’t a dream,” Kei laughed breathily. He couldn’t blame her for the shock. Hitoka probably didn’t come out tonight with the intention of nailing her childhood crush.

Hitoka blinked at him, and then her face flushed bright red.

“You—You mean—”

“Yes, Hitoka.”

Kei kept a steady hold on her as her face paled, afraid that she might pass out again. Though she acted a little woozy, she managed to remain conscious this time. Kei slowly helped her to her feet, keeping a steady hand on her waist just in case she collapsed again. She leaned against the barstool as she breathed heavily, anxious and perspiring and avoiding Kei’s gaze.

“Oh my gosh… I can’t believe it…” she murmured. “I was so happy when I saw you… All those old feelings came rushing back… I thought I was just going to be lucky enough to get a few short moments with you, but you… but you…” She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Tch. Always so emotional,” Kei laughed softly. But there was tenderness in his touch as he cupped her face, using his thumbs to swipe her leaking tears away. He kept his palms against her cheeks; warmth flooded his skin, making a fuzzy feeling propagate over his hands and up his arms. It was addicting; he didn’t want to let go—and he had no intentions to.

“What do you say we go somewhere quieter? Just you and me.”

“Like… A date?”

“Yes, like a date,” Kei laughed. Hitoka shyly turned her body side-to-side, chewing her lip as she contemplated it. Her gaze drifted to the dance floor, and Kei’s followed. Kentarou was grimacing as he stood over Tadashi, who was laying on the floor with his behind sticking in the air as he sobbed a puddle on the floor. When Hitoka looked back at Kei in concern, he rolled his eyes. “Oh, he’ll be all right. Though Kentarou won’t like me saddling him with the responsibility.”

Hitoka giggled with that. Kei dropped his hands, and they fell right into Hitoka’s. They laced their fingers together, and Kei began to walk backwards, guiding her toward the exit.

Kei had never really believed in things like fate or serendipity or good luck. He believed that life was what you made it. But as he watched the low lights of the bar refract in Hitoka’s warm brown eyes and catch in her golden hair to make it shine like the sun, as he watched the smile dance over her face, watched the adoration grow in her expression with every step they took, he couldn’t help but thank whatever goddess of good fortune had brought Hitoka back into his life.

And Kei wouldn’t let her go again.

#tsukiyachi #tsukishima x yachi #yachi x tsukishima #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #yachi hitoka #hitoka yachi #haikyuu #haikyuu!!

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 3 years

Text

Wildflower

Yooooo impromptu nsfw fic!? On this fine evening!? As if you don't know me! Y'all want soft wet Eren and I deliver.

Pairing: Eren/ Reader

Summary: You and eren find yourselves tangled with each other after a swim in the lake, things take a much warmer turn from there.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+

The lake was beautiful at this time of the day.

A soft evening breeze blew the fresh smell of blooming wildflowers around. Mellow tints of camomile and lavender lingered in your nostrils, blended with water lillies and hibiscus struck you tenderly, brushing your senses beautifully. The forest green leaves around you shimmered an entirely different colors under the thousand golden rays of the blushing sun. Numerous duos of butterflies fflickered and flapped their wings on each other, twisting and turning in the air as they seemingly kissed, landing on perky petals and hoovering with each other under the tangerine light.

Yet here you were; drainched and shivering, laid on a thin sheet of clothe, cold as ever, but burning up from your core and outwards.

"Eren"

The whisper of his name was silent, lost in the heart of the forest, overlapped by the sounds of nature as the sun was shyly hiding underneath the horizon. Still it reached his ears and his ears only, just like he thristed for.

He too was shivering and very pale and as sweat begged to drip from the pores of his skin, it merged with the flowing water that the two of you had been bathing in only moments ago.

His lips were sucking yours in with need, worrying your flesh with arrogance before his time guess dared to dip in the crevices of your mouth. His palms were always supporting, always cupping your face to sink his head closer into you. His tongue rubbed yours with twirling motions, dipping and swiping in any place he could manage to drag it on.

"You have such a lovely voice."

"I do?"

"You do" Eren said. "You're making my -ah- my heart melt."

Turquoise orbs locked with yours, his sharp nose brushed over the tip of yours, his hand coming to cup tenderly just the underside of your jaw line. The cold, wet fabric of his shirt brushed over your naked skin, hanging so low that when you'd stick your forehead to his collar bone you could see the view of his hips as they remained frozen and in collision with yours.

"Eren, please, please move."

"Shh." His lips brushed over yours with animalistic need, but he never placed a kiss on you. "I just want to stay like this for a while, to look at you, you're so beautiful under this light."

With a sharp breath creating commotion on your side you felt like your lungs were spent. His plum lower lip sank under his teeth as he looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing together and away from his eyelids in what seemed like utter, horrible pain.

Maybe it was painful. No, it definitely was painful. The fact that he wouldn't move inside you, the way your hardened buds brushed with his shirt. The sly adoration that glimmered in his gentle turquoise eyes. We're you ever in a position to chose a single memory to keep of his it would be this very moment.

That was if he would let you think clear.

With one thumb flicking over your most sensitive bundle of nerves occasionally and the squirm inside the depths of your chest, you instinctively brought your hands to cup his own face eager to clash his lips against yours. Your hips finally made a movement of their own accord; you bucked forward and into the small surface of the tip of his finger, searching desperately for some rythimc friction.

You found yourself pushing against him hard and fast, so much that the evening breeze was finally starting to become evident, forming little bumps on the surface of your wet skin. Another short lived shiver ravaged your body and you gasped, you forehead linked with his collar bone. Before your eyes, you could see his hand hiding just between your legs, rubbing just on the spot you wanted, and it only added to your lust.

With a hitched breath, you let out a soft mewl and earned one from the brunet in response.

"Fuck!" Eren snarled and his hand came to dig absurdly on the ground next to you.

With the twirling of his hips inside you, he bucked slightly before he hoisted him self out of you and aligned the tip of his length with your entrance, sliding it teasingly over you.

"I love you." He said and clashed his forehead with the prominent tip of your jaw.

Your heart throbbed the instant he uttered the words yet he de ied you the chance to look him in the eye. Whether from embarrassment or shame, whether because the little scarlet tint on his cheeks was something he was insecure about, he took away from you the right of being able to lock your gaze with his. And somewhere between not being able to look into his eyes and being teased by his slow rhythm against you, you felt lost and swallowed by the words you wanted to speak back to him.

Perhaps he knew your answer. That he could probably be why he didn't demand it.

Still, your heart slightly ached at the slight melancholy of his tone.

You were being swallowed as a whole by the slow dragging of his member across you, by the way that you could see he held him self just below his fleshy tip to take a lead and establish his self control. He didn't want to thrust inside you and establish a pace, he was making that obvious. The pained expression in his face was more likely due to that, the paleness of his skin gave him away.

"Don't you love me?"

It came out like a cry, a whine, like a little brawl of a hurt puppy and it hit hit you like a monstrus tide. Had Eren always been able of making such lewd sounds?

"Of course i- of course I do." You stuttered, the throbbing heat that thrilled your abdomen fueling by your confession.

You could only sense how much he was enjoying it; the hiccuped breaths he let out, the tight clentching of his abdomen muscles, the veins in his hands that flexed as he pressed into the abnormal soil with the fact of his palm, the stray strands of wet hair that shimered im tiny droplets at their base as they flickered on your skin, it all added to that.

"I feel so dirty." He whispered and you knew to what he was reffering.

"But you're not."

"That's exactly how I feel though."

"Not for me, you're not what everyone paint you to be."

"Then promise me you'll hold my hand." He growled. "That you won't leave my side with what's to come."

Right after hot slowly dragged his teeth the the length of your jaw, his breath was on your ear, hot against your skin despite the cold evening air. The hiffs of his nose shot like steam over the crook of your neck and unbeknownst to you they preppee the area for what was to come.

"I promise."

Eren's lips attacked you, the launched over the tender skin of your neck, the hot torture of his tongue and teeth beginning a sweet massacre against all the little sweet spots he knew you had. You only pressed your head against the sheet of cloth harder, accepting the little defeat of your own personal ego. You were glad you didn't have to worry about being audible into the heart of the woods.

Your body was jolting against his touch, your pelvis, sore and needy in its movements slowly gave in the the build up in the aftermath or Eren's teasing. A hand came to grip on Eren's flexed bicep, your fingertips digging painfully into his skin everytime the feeling became unbearable for you to handle. You were going numb, painfully numb but you seemed to savor your release for later, you repeatedly told yourself that you could do it.

The little drizzling of cicadas had started spreading throughout the air by now, from the corner of your strained eye you could see some of them flying around, some birds chirping and flying inside their little nests as the last specs of sunlight peaked right between the enormous trees. Nature was celebrating another endearing late spring sunset and here you were, feeling the dear melancholy of a delayed edge.

It was only when Eren shifted his weight onto you that you immediately run your hands through his hair, throwing a chocolate lock away from his tired eyes just to finally get the chance to look at him. This time it was you who took so long tracing his jawline, it was you you placed chaste kissed across his face, chin, the corners of his so well outlined lips.

"Eren, I love you no matter what," You whispree, eyes closed as your heart hammered in your chest. "you don't have to hold back with me."

Whether he did it because you genuinely convinced him of your words or because he wanted to get this over with, you didn't know. All that you knew what that your legs were forced over his shoulders, and that his hand was cupping your cheek with force, desperately clutching on you as he finally slammed his throbbing member inside of you.

Puckered lips and glistering skin, angry brows and a menacing look, it all added to the occasional gulp he'd force upon himself, it all took away from the moans he failed to let out. The little grunts he left were due time the brutality of his rhythm and they were so unique but still overlapped by the sound of skin clapping and clashing.

You only gave a little moan and surrendered to the feeling, your coiling stomach refusing to allow you to hold your orgasm in for any longer. Your legs went still, your toes curled and flexed and your walls clenched around him. You let out a panting mewl as you felt your whole body giving into the immediate trance of afterglow.

Eren only grunted at the feeling, thrusting himself faster into you before barely managing to pull out, a hand coming to his length to guide the spurting white rope that emitted from the tip anywhere away from you.

"I'm so sorry" He panted, and finally his head nuzzled to the crook of your neck almost painfully.

"I got you Eren. You don't have to have a single worry in the world at the moment."

And he truly wished he didn't

#eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager #snk

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

Text

True Love - George Weasley

Title: True Love Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary: George may have married a girl his dead twin brother may have been in love with at some point but it’s really not what it looks like. A/N: this fic is born out of my hatred for a post I saw a few days ago that said George and Angelina only got together as a way to mourn Fred, and that they would eventually get divorced. Requests are open and feedback is always appreciated!

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George is tiptoeing past Roxanne’s partially opened door to get a glass of water when he hears the little girl call out to him.

“Daddy?”

George stops in his tracks and shuffles over to her door, peeking in the crack. The only light in the room comes from a pink everlasting fire Y/N had produced in a jar for their daughter to use as a night light a few weeks ago. Roxanne is curled up in a ball in her bed, drowning in her fluffy comforter. George and Y/N had tucked her in and kissed her goodnight a few hours ago, so he frowns when he notices that her deep brown eyes are open and blinking up at him.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” George asks as he pushes her door open.

Roxanne sits up a little, reaching out to him. “Can’t sleep.”

George smiles at her grumbly voice, sounding so much like her mother does when she’s tired. He enters her room with a small laugh and takes a seat on the edge of her bed. He strokes her mess of curls they call hair and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Well that’s no good, pumpkin. How can Daddy fix that?”

Roxanne, smiles up at him, leaning back into her pillows. “Can I get a story? Please?” she begs.

George lets out a chuckle. “Of course.” He starts to reach for the copy of The Tales of Beadle the Bard that Y/N had placed on Roxanne’s night stand a few hours ago after she had fallen asleep. But he stops in his tracks when Roxanne grabs his forearm.

“Noo,” she coos quietly. “A story from your head, Daddy.”

George raises his eyebrows and chuckles at her demanding tone. Yep, there is no denying that she is Y/N’s daughter.

“Of course, pumpkin, how silly of me.” He brings his hand that had been reaching for the book back and places it on her cheek. “Any requests, darling? I could always whip out the one about the brave knight who lost an ear in battle.” George winks at his daughter while gesturing towards his missing ear, causing her to giggle.

“No, not that one. You always tell that one,” she teases.

George laughs again, tapping Roxanne on her nose. “Well sorry,” he drawls. “How about the one where the three brave knights rescue the King from the dungeon using their flying stead?” George frowns slightly at the memory of his twin, a pang of sadness in his chest. George gives Roxanne a questioning look when she shakes her head. “What do you wanna hear then, pumpkin?”

“Tell me the story about how you and Mummy fell in love,” she asks, looking up at him hopefully.

George bites his lip, contemplating the idea. Y/N and George had never really told their kids the full story of how they met, considering that it was pretty questionable. All they had told Roxanne and Fred ii is that they had been friends while at school, and a few years after graduation they met again and fell in love. They never mentioned the fact that Y/N used to date Fred.

“Well sweetie you know that story. Mummy and I went to school at Hogwarts together, and went our separate ways after graduation and then we got together a few years after,” George explains, trying to dodge the question.

Roxanne rolls her eyes. “That’s the short version. I wanna hear the whole thing. Please Daddy?”

George sighs, he can’t resist her pleas. “Alright, pumpkin. I guess our story begins on the morning of May 3rd, 1998.”

George is sitting on the ground next to Fred’s body, mostly alone. There are groups of people scattered around the Great Hall, some mourning the loss of their loved ones, others waiting for Madam Pomfrey and the other Healers that arrived from St. Mungo’s to help them. Everyone seems to be leaving George alone, allowing him to spend a few more fleeting moments with his twin.

He’s looking down at his hands, tears streaming down his face, so he doesn’t realize that someone has joined him until she speaks.

“Hey, George,” Y/N speaks quietly, voice shaking.

George looks up at the sound of her voice. Y/N is sitting on the ground too, on Fred’s other side, tears streaming down her face. She’s covered in dirt and blood and George can’t imagine that he looks any better.

“Hey, Y/N,” he mutters after he clears his throat. His throat feels raw, probably from a mixture of the crying and the fact that he hadn’t spoken in a few hours.

George watches as Y/N stares intently at Fred’s face, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek. They’re quiet for so long that George jumps slightly when Y/N speaks up.

“It’s been years since anything has happened between us and yet I still feel,” she cuts off abruptly to let out a few sobs.

Y/N begins to cry harder and George places a hand over the one she has placed on Fred’s chest. He squeezes her hand tightly, wishing there was more he could do to make her feel better.

“Mummy used to be with Uncle Fred?” Roxanne asks, pulling George out of his thoughts. Roxanne and Fred ii had heard many stories about their dear Uncle Fred from both of their parents and various other family members throughout their lives. But George and Y/N made a point to make sure that no one ever mentioned her past with Fred. Not because she was ashamed at the fact that she had once been with Fred, but because she didn’t want to confuse them.

George nods, blinking away the tears in his eyes. “Many, many years ago, they were together. Back when we were at Hogwarts. Your Uncle Fred and I met your Mum when we were all in our first year at Hogwarts. You know we were all in the same house and played on the Quidditch team together. You’ve heard Uncle Harry talk about the Triwizard tournament, right?” George waits for Roxanne to nod before continuing. “We were all in our sixth year when that happened and there was this great huge ball on Christmas called the Yule Ball. Uncle Fred asked your Mum to be his date, and they dated for a few months afterwards.”

Roxanne purses her lips, thinking about what her father has just said. “And when Uncle Fred died, Mummy still loved him?”

“Not exactly,” he answers.

Roxanne groans and rolls her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

George rolls his eyes playfully. “Maybe if you hadn’t interrupted my story you would know by now,” he teases.

Roxanne sticks out her tongue playfully but doesn’t say anything else.

“So, I guess our story continues in June of 1999.”

“Hey George. The store looks great,” Y/N speaks, shocking George. He turns around from where he had been stocking a shelf, a smile appearing on his face when he sees the familiar girl standing in front of him.

George hasn’t seen Y/N since the day they cried together over Fred’s body. He heard that she came by his funeral briefly, but he hadn’t seen her himself. Now, a little over a year later here she is, and George can’t help but think how beautiful she is. Her hair frames her face perfectly, and she is smiling warmly at him.

“Hey, Y/N. Thanks, it’s definitely getting there. Not quite back at its prime but, it definitely will be soon,” he says wistfully, looking around the shop.

After Fred’s death he hadn’t been able to step back into the store he had started with his brother. It hurt too much, and it almost felt wrong to go back to work without his partner in crime. The store had always been their dream, and George didn’t think he could carry on without Fred. He spent the first six months after Fred’s death moping around The Burrow, spending most of his time in bed, alone.

Everyone in the family had been patient with him, all of them taking time to grieve as well. Until one night, Molly sat him down and with as much love as possible told him that enough was enough. She had reminded him that Fred wouldn’t want George to throw away their dream just because he couldn’t be there with him. That the best way to honor his brother would be to carry on making their dream a reality. George, realizing his mother was right, had started planning new products that very evening.

He spent the next 5 months after that developing new products and perfecting them. 2 months ago, he finally plucked up the courage to enter the abandoned shop for the first time and started to put it back together. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had officially been open again for 2 weeks and running the store has made George the happiest he’s been in months.

“Every time I would come to Diagon Alley I’d check to see if the store was open again, and I’m glad it is. If there’s anything people need these days it’s some Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” Y/N says with a laugh.

There had been mass celebrations after Voldemort’s defeat, but so many lives had been lost that they were short lived, and the wizarding community had needed to slowly heal. Things had been getting back to normal, Diagon Alley was just as busy as it had been before, and George could hear happy voices and laughter every time the door to the shop opened.

George chuckles. “A bit of mischief makes everyone feel better. Things have been crazy since I reopened, I can barely keep up on my own.” He gestures towards the shelf he had been restocking when she came in, and the other various shelves that were missing products. “I never realized how much work it was, it was way easier when there was two of us. Between selling the products, making them and stocking them I’m exhausted,” he admits with a small laugh.

“I didn’t want to say it but, you look exhausted,” she teases, smiling at him playfully. “That’s um, kinda why I came in. I mean I obviously came in so I could see you,” she admits, blushing. “But also, I was wondering if you were hiring? I’ve been working freelance for The Daily Prophet but it’s not enough to keep me busy.”

George tries not to let his surprise show on his face. Y/N had always been supportive of George and Fred’s antics, but had never wanted to actively participate. George scratches the back of his head like he’s thinking about her offer, not wanting to seem too eager. “Yeah actually, that would be great. I could really use the help. I’ll have to get some references of course. Make sure you’re not too difficult to work with,” he teases.

Y/N rolls her eyes, playfully shoving George’s shoulder. “We got paired together in potions one-time years ago and you’re still giving me shit about it, Weasley? Unbelievable.”

“Mummy used to work with you? Before Uncle Ron did?” Roxanne asks, interrupting the story again.

George hums as he nods. Once Ron quit the Aurors office and came to work with George Y/N had left. Her and George were beginning to start their family, and she wanted to be a stay at home mum. She started writing again as well and had become a pretty successful children’s book author in the wizarding world.

“Yup. Uncle Ron used to work with Uncle Harry at the ministry, before you and your brother were born. So, your Mummy helped out at the shop, and then me and Mummy got married and decided to have your brother, so Uncle Ron decided to quit his job and work with me,” George explains.

Roxanne has a bewildered look on her face, like she had never thought about the fact that all the people she loves had lives before she was born. “So how did you and Mummy get together then? Fall in love?”

George chuckles. “I’m getting there, missy, don’t you worry about it.”

Y/N had only been working for George for a few weeks when he realized he had a huge problem. He was developing feelings for her. He had always found her attractive, but when Fred expressed interest in her during their fourth year he pushed those thoughts away. He was always the more reserved twin and doubted that he would ever act on those feelings anyway.

But now that they’ve been spending so much time together and working together so closely he can’t help but feel those things again. She’s just as beautiful has she had been back at school but there was so many other things too.

Her smile was so bright that it could light up the whole shop. She was always there to offer him a warm smile and a helping hand, staying late into the night to help him restock shelves or coming in on the weekends to help make a new stock for the upcoming week. She was always sending him little winks too throughout the day as they worked. While she was upselling a product to someone, or when he just seemed down and needed a pick me up, all he had to do was look over to her and she’d give him a reassuring wink.

And it certainly didn’t help that she was so damn good at her job. She was always helping him to arrange the store in the best way possible, moving around displays and finding new, exciting ways to showcase their range of products. She was so good with the customers too, always able to help someone, their customers always raved to George about how amazing she was as they checked out.

And her touch, it sent electric waves shooting down his spine. Whether it was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulders as he stirred a new potion late at night, or a hand on his back as she passed behind him his brain seemed to short circuit whenever they came in contact with each other.

It didn’t help that her presence had begun to creep into other parts of his life as well. She had only been working there a few days when Molly popped in to see how things were going. His mum had been so excited to see Y/N and invited her to dinner at The Burrow that night; since then it has become a weekly occurrence. He’s bumped into her at The Burrow more than once during the weekends as well, her and Ginny flying around each other and passing a Quaffle back and forth.

“Morning, George!” Y/N calls as she pushes through the shop door.

George jumps at the sound of her voice, not expecting to see her. It’s early on a Sunday morning, and George figured he’d be alone in the shop all day to catch up on the things they hadn’t finished the night before.

George stands up from where he had been kneeling behind the counter, trying to count out the safe, but mostly thinking of the girl who just entered the store. He smiles as she bounds up to the counter.

“What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he stutters, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “But you were here late last night, I didn’t think you’d come in today.”

Y/N smiles at George, taking off her bag and placing it on the counter. “Well we didn’t finish everything last night, did we? You’ll actually be able to go out and enjoy your day if we’re both here working.” George gives her a look, prompting her to continue. “Besides I don’t mind being here all the time. I like being here.”

George’s smile fades, figuring that Y/n likes being here so much because it reminds her of Fred. They haven’t talked about that morning, when she had practically declared her love for his dead brother as they both cried, and George doesn’t plan on bringing it up.

He’s brought out of his deep thoughts as she passes by him, her hand brushing his arm and sending electric shocks up to his neck. He clears his throat to try and get rid of the lump in it. “Well thanks, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem! What do you need me to do boss?”

George looks to the to-do list he had made after closing on Friday. Well the to-do list Y/N had made for him; she really was a huge help around the shop. Even if she did distract him from his work from time to time.

“Well looks like the next thing up on the list is,” he pauses, suddenly nervous. “Next thing up is to restock the love potions. But uh, I checked in the back earlier and we’re all out, so you’ll need to brew up a new batch.”

Y/N nods, heading towards the storeroom to grab the needed ingredients. “Yeah I can do that, no problem.” She pokes her head back through the door. “Or are you still hung up on that whole potions thing and don’t trust me?”

George laughs with her, his nervousness melting away at her playful tone. “Just get to work, yeah?”

With Y/N out of sight George is able to get back to work, and he had forgotten that she was there. That was until she interrupted him while he was stocking the shelves, causing him to shout and drop all of the Skiving Snackboxes he had in his arms.

“Bloody hell, Y/N. Forgot you were here,” he says with a nervous laugh, his cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. He turns to face her, glancing at the cauldron in her hands. “What’s up?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you Georgie,” she says with a laugh, causing George’s knees to quiver at the nickname. “I haven’t made a potion in ages, let alone Amorentia. Just wanted to see if you could check it? Make sure I did it right.”

“Yea, ‘course,” George says quietly, leaning close to look at the potion. He stirs it with the silver spoon, checking to make sure the consistency is right. He’s a little nervous, leaning in so close to Y/N that he momentarily forgets what Amorentia does. “Forgot to mention, but that new perfume you’ve been wearing smells really good.” Y/N gasps, taking a small step back. George looks up at her. “What?”

“Thanks but um. I’m not wearing any perfume today,” she stutters out, refusing to meet George’s eyes.

George is about to question her, since he definitely just smelled her perfume, when it dawns on him. He wasn’t smelling her perse, but the Amorentia smelled like her to him. And he just admitted that.

“Look, Y/N I. I,” but he trails off, unsure of what to say. He opens his mouth to say something else but is stopped by Y/N stepping close to him and pressing a hard kiss to his lips. It lasts just long enough for George to grip her waist and for Y/N’s hands to tangle in his hair. Just as quickly as she had kissed him her lips were gone and they were just staring at each other.

She opens her mouth to speak, but when nothing comes out she closes it again. And before George knows it she’s rushing towards the counter to grab her bag. “I should go. Yeah I should go. I’ll see you later,” she rambles. And before George can blink again the door is shutting behind her.

“So, Mummy kissed you first!” Roxanne says excitedly when George stops talking.

“What? Like it’s surprising?” George scoffs with a chuckle.

Roxanne shrugs her shoulders, playfully smiling at him. “I mean have you seen how pretty Mummy is? And you’re, well you’re alright I guess.”

George can tell that she’s teasing him, and as payback he tickles her sides, causing her to shriek with laughter.

“Shhh,” he whispers, realizing just how late it is. “We don’t want to wake your brother up, or your Mummy.”

Roxanne nods, taking a few deep breaths to settle down. “So, what happens next? You and Mummy kiss and then what?”

George is still horrified about what happened the next morning as he opens the shop. He’s exhausted, having stayed up most of the night finishing everything on his list. It shouldn’t have taken him that long, but he kept getting distracted, thinking of how Y/N’s lips felt on his.

He’s about to grab the door handle so he can unlock it and officially open up when the door swings open and Y/N is walking through it. They collide, and George instinctively reaches out and grabs her around the waist so she doesn’t fall to the ground.

A moment later he realizes what he did and he lets go, stepping back. His cheeks are red and he rubs his neck sheepishly. “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t think you’d come in today so I was just. Sorry, sorry.”

Once he finishes his rambling he turns on his heel and practically runs towards the counter, not even daring to glance at Y/N. But he can hear her footsteps following behind him and when he turns around she’s standing at the counter, an apologetic look on her face.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing to you, Georgie. I shouldn’t have ran out on you like that. And I shouldn’t have kissed you that was… well anyway, I’m sorry,” she says quickly.

George opens his mouth to respond, but the door to the shop swings open and Y/N is off to help the few customers who came in.

“You need help with anything?”

George looks up from the papers on his desk to see Y/N poking her head into his office. They haven’t spoken since their weird moment this morning, and after the afternoon rush George excused himself to his office to work on paperwork while Y/N stocked some shelves and made up a new display. But that must have been hours ago now, as the sliver of shop George can see over Y/N’s head looks dark.

“Just been going over the books. Well trying to at least,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “I let Fred do it the last time. Well no, I didn’t let him, he insisted on it. Some crap about how he needed to know how to do it. But boy was listening to him a mistake,” he admits with a sad chuckle. “I can’t make out half of what he wrote and the half I can is completely wrong.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything, but gives him a sad look. George feels awkward in the silence, so he continues to ramble on.

“And I wanna be mad at him, for not taking it seriously but. Then I get mad at myself for feeling that way. And then I feel sad because he’s not here for me to just ask him what the hell it says and then I try and figure it out and get mad when I can’t and it’s just a vicious cycle.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything right away, trying to choose her words carefully. She comes into his office and takes a seat at one of the chairs across from George’s desk. George runs his hands through his hair again, silently pleading that she says something. A few more quiet moments pass before Y/N speaks.

“That sounds. Well frankly that sounds like hell. But it’s okay to feel like that, you know. It’s okay to be mad at Fred. It’s okay to feel whatever you want towards Fred, that’s a normal part of grieving, George,” she explains, leaning forward in her chair.

“So, years will go by and I’ll still feel,” George mumbles almost without thinking. He casts his eyes downward, not wanting to look Y/N in the eyes or see the expression on her face.

A pink blush flushes Y/N’s face. “You, um, remember that then? You never mentioned it, so I figured you forgot about it, or maybe never even heard it. I was kinda hoping that you never even heard it.”

George looks up at her then, staring deeply into her eyes. “Is that why you came into the shop that day? Why you started working here? So, you could feel closer to Fred? Is that why you kissed me?” His last question is quieter, practically a whisper. He feels ashamed as soon as he asks, he wants to take it back.

But then Y/N lets out a laugh, shocking George. He looks at her quizzically. “What? Are you laughing at me?”

Y/N shakes her head no, but continues to laugh, almost as if she can’t stop herself. It takes what feels like an eternity for her laughter to die down, and once it does she scoots closer to George, reaching out to touch his hand.

“That day, when we were sitting there in the Great Hall, I wasn’t talking about still feeling love for Fred. I never really loved Fred. Not in that way at least.”

George is taken aback by that. “What do you mean?”

“Georgie, Fred and I dated for like 4 months when we were 16. It was nice to have someone to go to Hogsmeade with or carry my books and it was fun spending time with Fred but I wasn’t in love with him. And Fred knew that, that’s why we broke things off.”

George looks at Y/N. He’s trying not to get his hopes up, but he’s still so confused about everything. “So, what the hell were you talking about that day? Because I sure as hell thought you were talking about still being in love with Fred.”

Y/N bites her lip, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I was talking about feeling guilty, George.”

George suddenly pushes away from his desk, beginning to pace back and forth. “Feeling guilty for what, then?”

“Feeling guilty for being in love with his twin brother!” Y/N admits suddenly, causing George to stop in his tracks.

“Come again?” he asks, looking down at Y/N. His eyes follow her as she stands up and walks over to him.

“I was never in love with Fred. And after we broke up I started to fall in love with you. But I never acted on it because I felt guilty. I knew Fred had strong feelings for me, so I never tried to act on my feelings for you. And that day, when I saw you in the Great Hall, even though it had been years all of those feelings came rushing back. How I felt for you, how guilty I felt for feeling those things. That’s why I came over there that day, because I wanted to see you, make sure you were okay. And I hoped that saying goodbye to Fred would make me feel okay to try and approach you.”

Suddenly it dawns on George. “That’s why you came to his funeral, then? To put those guilty feelings to rest once and for all.”

Y/N nods, taking one of George’s hands in hers. “That’s why I didn’t stay long. The second I saw you I wanted to run into your arms and kiss you. But I figured that was probably not the right time or place to fling myself at you.”

George laughs, trying to imagine what he would have done if Y/N had done that. He uses his free hand to reach up and cup Y/N’s cheek. “So that day you came into the shop, it was to see me?”

Y/N rolls her eyes but nods. “I said that, didn’t I dummy? That I came into the shop to see you. I would make excuses to head to Diagon Alley nearly every day to check to see if the shop was open. It took me two weeks to get the courage to actually walk in once you opened back up. And truth be told-“ she stops, letting her gaze drop to the floor. “I didn’t really need a job. I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.”

Suddenly so many things started making sense to George. “So that’s why you would stay in late? Come in on days off?”

Y/N nods. “And why I agreed to come to dinner at The Burrow every week, and why I agreed to help Ginny with her Quidditch training.”

“Not to keep the memory of my dead brother alive?” George asks, almost unable to believe everything he’s heard. Y/N shakes her head. “But to be close to me, because you’re in love with me?”

Instead of nodding Y/N grabs George’s face and brings their lips together in a heated kiss. George is frozen for a moment, his brain trying to catch up with what’s going on. Once it does he kisses Y/N back hungrily, his hands gripping her hips tightly. They kiss for a few moments before Y/N pulls away breathless.

“And that was that. Your Mum and I got together and the rest is history.”

George stops with his story, waiting for Roxanne to say something. When she doesn’t he looks down, a smile spreading across his face when he notices her eyes have fluttered closed and she’s breathing slowly. He presses a kiss to her forehead and tucks her blanket around her tighter.

He’s closing her door behind him quietly when he runs into his wife, nearly shouting at the scare she gave him.

“Bloody hell, how long have you been standing there, love?” he asks, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist.

“Long enough to hear you spill all of our dark secrets,” she responds with a quiet laugh.

George frowns. “Are you mad? I know we said we wouldn’t tell them, but you know I can’t resist her puppy eyes, just like how I can’t resist yours.”

Y/N doesn’t answer him, choosing to press a kiss to his lips instead. Y/N buries her hands in George’s hair as he deepens their kiss, his hands squeezing her hips tightly. They both can’t help but be reminded of the kiss they shared all those years ago that George had just finished recounting.

“Why did you get out of bed anyway, hm? You were sound asleep when I went to get my water,” George asks a few minutes later when they’re back in bed.

Y/N shrugs, snuggling up into George’s side. “You were gone for ages. Thought maybe you were sneaking some of those chocolate chip cookies I made, wanted to catch you in the act. ”George laughs, throwing an arm around his wife and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“So, you weren’t lying in bed awake, thinking of my dead brother?” he jokes with a chuckle.

Y/N smacks him on the chest lightly, laughing along with him. “You’re lucky I love you, Weasley.”

“You’re right, my love. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

#george weasley #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley fic #George Weasley x reader #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine #Harry Potter fic #gw #golden

489 notes · View notes

lahyene · 4 years

Text

Reward.

Pairing: mobster!steve, bucky, & thor x maid!reader

Summary: As Steve Rogers’ live-in maid, you have a certain set of responsibilities and duties you owe to the mafioso. Tonight, you get to serve his loyal men as well.

Themes: smut, foursome, oral sex, masturbation, degradation, choking

Word count: 2070

You come downstairs to the “man cave” of the large mansion, your innocent little smile on your lips as you waltz into the room. “You called, sir?” You bat your eyelashes in the direction of your employer, the one and only Steve Rogers, sitting in the grand armchair a few feet away as his friends are seated comfortably on the imported Italian leather couches around him.

You’ve been the mobster’s live-in maid for about a year now, but you only really started working for him three months ago. Meaning, your responsibilities became a bit more extensive than cleaning and taking care of the giant house. You used to feel shy and embarrassed wearing the lingerie he bought for you so flagrantly around the house, but now? You love the attention. He’s made you feel confident and appreciated, and you have no issue being his little pet- especially with the rewards you get in return.

“I sure did. C’mere.” He commands gruffly as he crooks his pointer finger to gesture for your presence, his lips curled into a wicked smirk. You giggle quietly, shooting flirtatious looks to his men as you walk straight to your master, straddling his lap with complete ease and comfort. “How can I help you?” you practically purr, running your fingers over the rich material of his suit covering his broad chest.

“Damn,” his right-hand, Bucky, lets out from beside you before Steve can answer, taking a swig of his beer. “Is there anything you don’t look good in, sweetheart?”

“Doubtful.” The blond on your other side speaks in a deep, hollow voice. You’ve never even known his real name, but everyone in the gang simply refers to him as “Thor” thanks to his bulging muscle. “Every time we’ve seen her, especially in those skimpy little numbers, she looks absolutely ravishing.”

You barely smirk, tilting your head as you glance over at him. “Why, thank you, Thor. I’d argue I look- and feel- even better naked, though.”

“But the feeling is just for me, isn’t it, my little pet?” Steve cuts in rather authoritatively, one massive palm sliding down to roughly cup and squeeze your ass as if claiming what’s his. You can’t help but whimper in excitement and desperation, already wanting more. You hate that he has this effect on you. He’s always in charge, and he knows it.

“C’mon, Steve. It doesn’t have to be.” Bucky speaks up, looking somewhat devious and hopeful at the same time. “I’d say we deserve a treat, we pulled in some real big bucks today.” He makes eye contact with you, his teeth barely pulling on his lower lip. “We always watch you guys fuck, can’t you let us touch for once, too?”

Had it been anyone else who asked, even Thor, Steve would have most likely beat their faces in. You’ve witnessed it yourself, when a lowly drug mule had the audacity to simply flirt with you in Steve’s presence. But this is Bucky, Steve’s ride-or-die. The two have been friends since they were children. You have to admit, you’re curious as to what the mafioso’s reaction will be.

“You want me to share, hm?” Steve looks to Bucky with a lifted brow, then to Thor, who immediately nods his head rather vigorously. “Yes, I think I could be on board with that,” the lengthy-haired blonde agrees with an eager smirk.

You and Steve lock eyes, and you can’t help but be temporarily mesmerized with those orbs of aqua staring back at you. You’re under his complete control, and you’re more than happy to go through with whatever he decides- though, the more you think about it, the prospect of a foursome with these attractive men is genuinely exciting.

“Alright.” Steve finally speaks, his gaze still on you. “I suppose you boys deserve a reward for your hard work.” They exchange wide-eyed glances, about to celebrate, but Steve continues abruptly. “But-- neither of you are allowed to fuck her, though. That pretty little pussy is for Master’s dick only, isn’t it, Princess?” He looks to you with a smirk and you barely giggle, nodding your head.

“Yes, sir.” You agree, slowly turning around so that you’re facing Bucky and Thor while still on Steve’s lap. “I’d be happy to do whatever else I can to make Master’s friends happy.”

The two are practically drooling now, staring at you with all sorts of ideas in their brains as Steve’s hands take hold of your hips, rubbing and squeezing them sensually. “How about you start with stripping for us, pretty girl?” Thor suggests with a low tone, though you know this isn’t really a suggestion. Now that they have the okay from Steve, they’re in charge of you, too. You’re expected to listen and follow their every command, as long as it falls under what Steve has permitted.

“Of course, sir.” You smirk, slowly standing up and moving your hips as you walk to the center of the room. All eyes are on you as you slide the straps of the lacy babydoll off your shoulders; you tease a little, only revealing the top half of your breasts until you finally let the material slide down further, your hand moving over your breast to squeeze as you let out a tiny hum of satisfaction. As the lingerie slides down lower, you seat yourself atop the coffee table, pushing the article of clothing down your legs until it’s off entirely. Arching your back, you spread your legs slightly so everyone can get a view of your entrance, already wet.

“Damn, kitten.” Bucky whistles lowly, eyes focused on your gleaming folds, his expression full of hunger and lust. Steve sits back proudly, tongue lazily running over his lips as he nonchalantly begins to unbuckle his belt. “Well? You better go taste her while you have the chance.” He looks to his right-hand with an arched brow, and the man immediately stands up in excitement, striding over to you and getting down between your legs. “I want to hear you beg for it, baby,” he breathes out huskily, hand already sliding up your thigh, squeezing teasingly. You can’t help but whine in anticipation, spreading your legs further.

“Please, eat me out, sir.” Your voice is needy and desperate, big eyes staring at him hopefully. “I want you to tongue fuck me so bad.”

The mobster groans, already more than turned on simply from hearing you. He leans in and swipes his tongue across your slick, fingers digging into your thighs as he keeps them apart. You whimper in pleasure, placing your hands back behind you on the table as you start to slightly roll your hips, practically grinding against his tongue. “Oh...!”

Meanwhile, Thor stands, walking over to your side already removing his belt and lowering his pants. His huge erection almost immediately catches your eye, your head turning as you stare at his length in shock. He smirks widely from seeing your reaction, pumping himself as he steps closer. “Think you can handle it, sweetheart?”

“She can.” Steve speaks up, and you look to him in surprise, eyes immediately dropping to his hand rubbing his thick length up and down. You can’t help but be more aroused as you look back up at Thor, nodding your head. “I can,” you agree in an airy breath, still enjoying Bucky’s tongue plunging into your soaked pussy, your body trembling slightly. “Let me prove it to you, sir.”

It’s overwhelming at first- Thor’s large cock stuffed in your mouth, Bucky’s tongue teasing your wet folds. Your hand finds his shoulder length brown hair, gripping it hard as your muffled moans travel up Thor’s shaft, the vibration making him groan happily in return. All the while, Steve is watching through heavy grunts and low pants, jacking off as he stares at his talented little pet. Just watching him turns you on even more- you love knowing how much you get to him, how crazy you drive him.

“Fuck,” Thor hisses, his length hitting the back of your throat roughly, making you cough slightly. “You’re such an obedient little girl, aren’t you? Steve is a lucky guy...”

“Mm... mm, tell me about it,” Bucky mutters, his lips pursed around your clit. “She even tastes fucking delicious.”

“Mmmnn!!” you can only whimper, feeling a jolt of ecstasy travel through your body as Bucky’s teeth graze your sensitive bundle of nerves. You release without warning, your body practically shaking, though you’re still focused on sucking Thor’s cock. Bucky smirks as he laps everything up, pulling back breathlessly as he watches you swirl your tongue along the mobster’s length. Thor groans louder, his fingers curling into your hair as he forces your head back and forth on his cock. “Just... like that... fuck, I’m close...!”

He pulls out and releases all over your face, making you gasp in delight as you feel the streaks of white fall upon your skin and dribbling over your lips and chin. “Mm!” You run your tongue over your lips to lap as much of it up as you can, your chest moving up and down along with your heavy breaths.

“Fuck. Get over here,” Steve suddenly demands, his teeth grit as he pumps himself harder. “Sit down right on Master’s big dick, my little pet.”

You happily oblige, breathlessly rising to your feet as you make your way over to his lap, turning so your back is to him and slowly positioning yourself, sinking down onto his thick cock. “Mmm...” you moan, tilting your head back as you start riding him, moving your hips in sensual circles. Steve groans as he grips your hips tightly, leaning in and sucking bruises on your neck, moving his own hips upwards to bring himself deeper inside you.

“I think you’ve proven you can multitask,” Bucky suddenly speaks with a devious smirk, standing up and taking his own shaft out, pumping as he steps closer to you. “Open up, sweetheart. I want to help paint that pretty little face of yours, too.”

You whimper as he slides himself into your mouth, your head turned to face him as you bounce on Steve’s dick, your hands placed on his thighs to keep your balance. Thor kneels down to grope your breasts, fingers pinching your sensitive nipples before he leans in and begins to suck roughly, teasing with his teeth every now and then. As Steve maneuvers your body with one hand, he wraps his other around you to start rubbing your clit, growling into the crook of your neck from pleasure. “Such a good girl for your master, hm?” he mutters, rubbing even harder. “Fuck, are you going to cum all over my dick like the little slut you are?”

“Mm... mm, mmhm!” is all you can muster, with Bucky’s cock thrusting deeper into your mouth. He’s not as thick as Thor, but he’s certainly long and still impressive nonetheless. Steve moves his other hand to wrap tightly around your neck, smirking breathlessly as he bucks his hips up even rougher than before. “You look so sexy when you’re coming undone, baby doll...”

You finally come, your moans lewd and sultry, head tilted back as you keep your lips parted to let out breathless gasps. Steve releases as well, deep inside you just as he likes- you love feeling him fill you up, or simply the feeling of him inside you. You stay where you are, continuing to suck Bucky’s length hard until his groans and grunts become shorter and more desperate; he soon pulls out and does just as promised before, his cum covering your skin and blending in with the streaks already there before. He smirks widely, staring down at you in awe. “Fuckin’ beautiful...”

You finally get up, only to sink down onto the floor by Steve’s armchair, sitting on your knees and panting as you look up at your master with round, innocent eyes. “Did I do well?”

“Very well.” Steve praises with a smirk, reaching down to slowly stroke your hair, running his tongue over his lips as he admires your messy face. “In fact, I think Master should reward you for doing so well.”

He suddenly stands up, scooping you up into his arms. “Get out of here,” he commands to Bucky and Thor, his tone rough but his blue eyes glinting mischievously. “I think I need to give my little pet a bath.”

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #thor odinson x reader #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #writing

484 notes · View notes

purrincess-chat · 3 years

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH5

Aaaand it’s finally time. Surprise! Work has been kicking my butt the past couple weeks, so I’ve been really tired and writing has been slow. But we are still plenty ahead of schedule on this project, so don’t worry your pretty little heads! You’ll still get a chapter every Friday! We’re getting closer to the big shifts. Only a couple more chapters until the real fun begins >:)

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

Previous First Next AO3

Chapter 5: when the party’s over

“Good morning, sweetie.”

“Morning, Mom.” Marinette made her way down the stairs, carrying her boots in one hand. She yawned and stooped to kiss her mother’s cheek.

“How was the concert? Did you all have a good time?” her mom asked.

“I had an amazing time! We got to stand backstage for the whole performance, and you’re not gonna believe it! I fixed Jagged's jacket, and to thank me, he invited me to sing a song with him!” Marinette relayed as she grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl.

“Oh, how exciting!” her mom said. “I always knew you would do something amazing.”

“If Eliott hadn't suggested that I ask for tickets, Jagged would have canceled the show. It was really lucky that I was there,” Marinette said, ripping the peel.

“So, I take it everything is going well at your new school?” Her mom took a seat across from her.

“Yeah. I'm making new friends, and I helped someone with their bully,” Marinette answered around a bite.

“Are you happy?”

Marinette slowed her chewing as she mulled over an answer, and sensing her hesitance, her mom placed a hand over hers.

“I know there are things you don't tell me, but I can tell when you're upset,” she said. “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. All I care about is that you're happy.”

“It's just that…” She took a deep breath before spilling everything. Following Lila and Adrien, the situation with seats, Lila's threats in the bathroom, Alya's akumatization.

Everything.

Once she started, she couldn't stop. Words tumbled from her mouth in a rapid current until hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Her mother moved to hold her, rubbing her back and kissing her hair.

“When you said you wanted to transfer to this new school to focus on your talents, I had no idea you were leaving behind so much,” her mom said. “You've been carrying all of that weight for so long.”

“I didn't know what else to do,” Marinette whimpered. She sniffled against her mother's shoulder.

“Look at me.” Her mom lifted her chin. “You do so much for other people, and that’s wonderful. But I think it's time that you focus on what makes you happy.”

That was the understatement of the century, but Marinette wasn't going to say as much.

“Your father and I raised you to always help others when you can, but we never wanted it to be at the expense of your own happiness. Sometimes it's okay to do what's best for yourself, and I think that changing schools was a smart decision.” She brushed a tear from Marinette's cheek with her thumb. “I know you're hurting now, and if you ever need anything, Papa and I are always here for you.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Marinette said.

She hugged her mother tightly, her worries washing down her face in thin streaks. For once, she wasn't a superhero with the weight of the world on her shoulders—she was a young girl, abandoned and hurt by the people she once trusted. There wasn’t a clever solution to fix everything. No lucky charm to get her out of a messy situation. It was the hardest lesson she'd ever learned. That sometimes there was no magic to reset everything. Some wounds didn't heal, and some bonds stayed broken.

For the first time since she became Ladybug, Marinette didn't have to carry anyone's burdens but her own. For once, she could just cry.

♪♫♪ When I’m Gone ♪♫♪

“Well, class, by an overwhelming majority, I’m happy to announce Lila as our new class representative!” Mlle. Bustier said.

“Mlle. Bustier, I would like a recount!” Chloe demanded.

“You only had two votes, Chloe. I don’t think a recount is necessary.” She gave her a sympathetic smile.

“What? That’s ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” Chloe folded her arms over her chest.

“Can you blame us?” Alya asked.

“Yeah, Lila is way cooler than you.” Alix shot back, a sentiment echoed by several others.

Chloe slouched in her seat, seething. “Well, at least Sabrina recognizes my natural leadership,” she said, but her bff averted her gaze. “Don’t tell me you voted for her too?”

“Sorry, Chloe.” Sabrina shrank when Chloe gasped in disbelief.

“Are my ears deceiving me? How dare you!” Chloe slammed her fist on the desk as the whole class erupted into laughter.

“Wow, even Sabrina is tired of you,” Nathaniel said.

Chloe’s jaw clenched, cheeks burning angry and hot. Even the shrimpy comic book nerd was laughing at her. What had the world come to?

“I don’t want to cause any trouble, but I did win fair and square, Chloe. I hope you aren’t too mad at me.” Lila curled her shoulders. “The last thing I want to do is make another enemy like I did with Marinette. I just want to do my best to make your lives as easy as possible here.”

“See? Now that’s natural leadership.” Alya smirked.

“You’re all so lame. I wouldn’t want your votes anyway.” Chloe glared at Lila as class resumed and clicked her stylus pen. Lila wasn’t some nobody like Marinette. She was going to be harder to push around. Regardless, if there was something Chloe wanted, she always got it.

♪♫♪ I Don’t Care ♪♫♪

“Congrats on winning class representative,” Alya said at the next class change. “I can go over all of your duties with you this afternoon if you want. Marinette and I used to discuss things over ice cream.”

Lila suppressed an eye roll. The sooner Alya stopped talking about that brat, the better. Things were working out in Lila’s favor already now that she was gone. Pretty soon she’d own this school, and no one would even remember Marinette’s name.

“Actually, I’m recovering from tonsilitis, so my doctor said I’m not allowed to eat any dairy.” Lila touched her throat delicately. “Besides, you and I should pick our own rituals and forget about Marinette.”

“True, I guess.” Alya pursed her lips, and Lila placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I know it’s hard to move on, but honestly, Marinette is nobody,” Lila said. “Though not many people can say they saved an entire village from a stampede, so I guess I shouldn’t be one to judge.”

“Not all of us can be so amazing.” Alya chuckled good-naturedly. “I guess part of me just wishes that Marinette could have gotten to know you and seen how cool you are.”

“Her loss.” Lila shrugged as they entered the locker room.

“Did you see-”

“Is that for real?”

“No way!”

“What’s going on?” Alya asked Adrien and Nino.

“Marinette sang with Jagged Stone last night at his concert here in Paris.” Nino explained, tilting his phone toward them.

“What?” Lila snatched it from him.

“Miraculous, yeah I got this! I gotta confess I feel so strong!”

“She asked him for tickets yesterday on Instagram, and he gave her backstage passes,” Mylène said.

“She looks so happy and confident,” Rose cooed.

“Wouldn’t you be if you got to sing with Jagged Stone on stage?” Alix said.

“I miss her.” Rose slumped, and several classmates followed suit.

“Yeah, me too,” Max echoed.

“Hey, Lila, since you’re such good friends with Jagged Stone, do you think you could get us tickets to his next show?” Kim asked.

Every eye turned to her expectantly, and her annoyance flared. Of course Marinette wouldn’t go quietly. That stupid brat was causing her problems even after she was gone. Lila wasn’t worried though. This situation just needed a little precision…

“Well, I would love to, but celebrities like Jagged really don’t like to give stuff away for free. It’s kind of taboo to even ask. I’m sure Jagged only complied this time because he wanted to save face. He cares about his fans so much, but it’s actually very rude to ask someone for special treatment,” Lila said. “I feel really bad for Jagged being put on the spot like that. She could have ruined his reputation.”

“Wow, I guess I didn’t realize…” Kim rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d hate to put you in that position.”

“I can’t believe Marinette would do such a thing.” Nathaniel glared down at his phone.

“Yeah, way uncool.”

“Everyone, please don’t make a fuss and blame Marinette. She isn’t used to dealing with celebrities. I’m sure she meant no harm.” Lila assured them. “If only she were still here. I have so much I could teach her.”

“We’re so lucky to have you, Lila,” Nino said. He draped an arm across her shoulders.

“Yeah, thanks, Lila!”

“You’re the best.”

Lila smiled as the bell rang, and everyone shuffled off to class. Marinette wasn’t going to get ahead so easily. Everyone was still exactly where Lila wanted them, and she’d make sure it stayed that way.

♪♫♪ Primadonna ♪♫♪

Later that afternoon, the girls gathered in the bathroom to comfort Mireille who was crying over some stupid argument she’d had with her boyfriend, not that Chloe cared. All she wanted was to find dirt on Lila, so she slipped in unnoticed and hid in an empty stall to listen.

Nothing was right in her school anymore. Lila was stealing away everything she’d worked for, and while everyone was too busy paying attention to her, Chloe barely had anyone to boss around. Something needed to change. Fast. She would have to be smarter if she wanted to dethrone this queen, but she’d have order restored in her kingdom soon enough.

Chloe peeked through the crack in the door as Alya and Lila entered. She was going to find Lila’s weakness, then she was going to take her down.

“What’s going on?” Lila asked.

“Mireille and her boyfriend got into a fight, and she’s pretty upset,” Mylène said in a hushed tone.

“Marinette used to give advice to everyone and help them stay positive.” Rose glanced up at Lila. “Since you’re the new class representative, you can help, right?”

“Well, Mireille isn’t really in our class,” Lila said, but when Mireille let out a loud sob, she scrunched her nose and knelt beside her. “Hey, there’s no sense crying over some boy. I’ve had my heart broken before too, so I know how it feels. Boys are dumb. He’s not worth your tears,” she said. “If he really loved you, he wouldn’t have argued with you, and if he doesn’t love you, then you shouldn’t waste your time crying over him. I think you should move on because there’s no better revenge than finding someone cuter.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…” Mireille sniffled and ran a hand across her cheek.

“We can get some ice cream later if you want.” Alya offered.

“Thanks, girls.” Mireille smiled. She turned to the mirror to fix her face as the bell rang.

“See you later.” They all waved goodbye, shuffling to their next class and leaving Mireille alone.

Drat. Chloe would have to figure out another way to get to Lila. Everyone had a weakness, and Chloe would find hers if it was the last thing she did. But first she needed to get out of the bathroom stall.

She peeked through the crack in the door, but Mireille was still pouting over her lock screen—a picture of her boyfriend hugging her lovingly. Too preoccupied with her sadness, she didn’t see the little black butterfly land on her charm bracelet.

Chloe gasped as Mireille transformed before her eyes, closing the stall door before she could be noticed. She hated to admit it, but she actually missed Maribrat Dupain-Cheng. At least with her around giving pep talks to every miserable face she came across, akumas had reached an all-time low at their school. Where was Ladybug when she needed her?

♪♫♪ Listen ♪♫♪

“So, you really saved his whole show?” One of Marinette’s new classmates asked as everyone crowded around her.

“I’m sure they would have found another solution but-”

“Oh, don’t be modest!” Eliott cut her off with an eye roll. “She totally saved the whole show.”

“Yeah, Jagged Stone adores her.” Macy added with a giggle.

“I still think it should have been you up there, Macy. You’re a much better singer than I am.” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck.

“You have such a cute voice! We should sing a duet together for our next art project,” Macy said, and several classmates agreed, much to Marinette’s chagrin.

“Alright, class, everyone take your seats,” Mme. Allard instructed as she strolled into the room. To Marinette’s relief, the group surrounding her dispersed. “Today we will be discussing themes in Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. Now, who can tell me-”

When Marinette’s phone buzzed in her bag, she checked it under her desk. “An akuma alert!”

“What’s that?” Eliott leaned over.

“Is something the matter, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng? M. Chasse?” Mme. Allard paused her lesson and quirked a brow.

“Uh, there’s an akuma loose in the city, ma’am. Shouldn’t we evacuate?” Marinette held up her phone.

Mme. Allard removed her glasses to read the report. “It says here that lockdown orders are only for the area surrounding Notre Dame. We will continue our lesson until it becomes a threat on this side of town,” she said. “Now, put your phone away. They are prohibited during instruction.”

“Yes, Mme. Allard.” Marinette tucked her phone back into her bag and exchanged a nervous look with Tikki. “Actually, Mme. Allard?”

“What is it, Marinette?”

“Can I be excused to the bathroom?”

“You just went before we got here.” Macy gave her a quizzical look.

“Do you have a documented medical condition that requires you to frequent the restroom, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng?” Mme. Allard asked.

A few classmates giggled, and Marinette’s cheeks burned.

“No, ma’am,” she mumbled.

“Then I think you can hold it until the next class change. Now don’t interrupt my lecture again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She lowered her head, shooting Tikki an apologetic wince.

Her foot tapped the entire lecture, fingers drumming, pen tapping, eyes watching the clock. Part of her hoped the akuma would make its way to their side of town, but she wasn’t so lucky. When the bell rang, Marinette jumped from her chair and stuffed her tablet into her bag.

“Uh, I’m not feeling too well, so I’m gonna go see the nurse,” she said.

“Do you want us to walk with you?” Eliott offered, but she shook her head.

“I, uh, think I might be getting the flu, and I don’t want to infect you guys, so I’ll see you later.” She raced up the hallway.

The third-floor bathroom was empty when Marinette burst through the doors and ducked into a stall—her first stroke of luck all day.

“Your new school is so strict,” Tikki said.

“We can talk about it later. Transform me!”

Dashing across the rooftops, she hurled her yoyo as far as she could. She just hoped Chat Noir managed to show up and keep things at bay. When she made it to the school, she swooped down just in time to deflect an attack before it hit Chat Noir.

“Oh, nice of you to finally drop in,” he said dryly.

“Sorry, kitty, I got held up,” she said. “You okay?”

He relaxed and offered her a wink. “Better now that you’re here. You had me worried.”

“I’ll try not to make a habit of it.” She vowed, readying her yoyo. “In the meantime, I think we could use a little luck to get us out of this mess.”

“Be my guest.” Chat Noir bowed.

Her magnifying glass made quick work of Heartbreaker, and Mireille blinked in confusion as Ladybug purified the akuma.

“What happened?” Mireille asked, dazed.

“You were akumatized.” Chat Noir explained.

“Oh no!” She covered her face. “I got so angry…Now Jean will never take me back!”

Ladybug placed a hand on Mireille’s shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Hey, arguments in relationships happen. I’m sure you both said things you regret, so why don’t you try talking to him now that you’ve both calmed down?” She advised. “I’m sure you can come to an understanding.”

“I will. Thank you, Ladybug.” Mireille smiled. She waved as Ladybug and Chat Noir vaulted off.

“Thanks for your help, m’lady.” Chat Noir kissed her hand.

“Sorry it took me so long, kitty. I’m glad you were able to manage,” she said. “I’ll see you next time.”

“Don’t be late,” he called as she swung off.

Landing back in the bathroom, she leaned against the wall with a sigh. That was too close. She’d have to figure out a better way to escape to fight akumas, but at least she made it in time for this one.

She slipped into her desk in physics quietly and leaned over to Eliott. “What’d I miss?”

“I thought you had the flu?” Eliott recoiled.

“False alarm, just allergies,” she said.

“Oh, we should go to the spa later! The sauna is really good for your sinuses,” Macy whispered.

“Uh, sure.” Marinette nodded, shifting in her seat as they tuned back into the lesson. She relaxed when no one seemed suspicious of her.

Being a superhero just got a lot more complicated.

♪♫♪ Delicate ♪♫♪

“How is your new school?” Adrien asked that afternoon over tea and cookies.

“I’m…adjusting.” Marinette pursed her lips. “How is the old school?”

“Well,” Adrien drawled. “Lila is the new class representative, and she may have convinced people that you almost ruined Jagged’s image.”

“What a brat.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “She’s really class rep?”

“Don’t look at me, I voted for Chloe.” Adrien held up defensive hands.

“Somehow I don’t feel like that’s better.” Marinette leaned against her fist with a smirk.

She fixed her gaze on her cup with a sigh.

“Rose said she misses you.” Adrien offered. “Before Lila convinced her you were clueless about dealing with celebrities.”

“I miss her too,” Marinette said. She traced the rim of her cup with a finger. “I miss everyone, but…”

“I know.” Adrien winced. “For what it’s worth, I thought your performance with Jagged was awesome.”

“It was pretty awesome,” she admitted with a giggle. “And I got you an autograph!”

Adrien pressed his palms together appreciatively as she retrieved a signed poster of Jagged’s face from her desk.

“You rock, Marinette!” he said in his best Jagged impression, then more sincerely added, “I’m glad that you’re doing what’s best for you. If there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word.”

“Thank you, Adrien.” Her cheeks warmed as he held her gaze, her mind clouding into a lovestruck haze. She almost got lost in his gorgeous green eyes, but footsteps pounded up the staircase, breaking her trance.

Marinette jumped as her trapdoor swung open, and a familiar pair of icy blue eyes poked through. It was Chloe Bourgeois, and she was pissed.

#mdcspr #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

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ronsenburg · 3 years

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Hi! I wanted to ask you something about Klapollo. What topic/argument do you think could possibly cause them to break up or take a break from the relationship? I live for the drama and was thinking about maybe writing a fic but like I dont want to make either of them assholes, like Apollo bringing Kristoph up to hurt Klavier, for example. I don't think he would do that but I struggle to come up with something else.

Oh boy, I hope you’re not upset about this, but I wrote you an essay. I’m sorry.

Overall, I really like the klapollo relationship timeline because, compared to, say, narumi/su they have a much more normal, organic story. They meet, flirt, share a mutual trauma, get together! Totally normal! But I also think that they would have a much harder time than narumi/su finding the balance you need in a serious relationship and I can see them calling it quits for perfectly practical reasons that aren’t really anything to do with one being a jerk, you know? Here are my top things that I think they would have to navigate and maybe struggle with before a real happily ever after:

1. Money. You’ve probably seen my post where I talk about Apollo feeling uncomfortable with displays of affluence. I don’t think that this is an easy one to get past. AA6 Spoilers, but Dhurke and Datz literally raised them in hiding on the run in the mountainous jungles of Khura’in. They sent Apollo to the states as a nine year old. We don’t know what he did when he got here, but my money’s always been on the foster system. That doesn’t typically breed a sense of stability, financial or otherwise.

From my experience (so take it with a grain of salt), children who grow up with very little tend to behave in one of two ways when they reach financial stability and/or achieve wealth: first option, they’re really bad with it. They spend it nearly as fast as they make it on things they didn’t get to have or experience when they were growing up. Second option, they never spend it. They know what it’s like to be without, so they save as much of it as they can so they have the security of knowing, if something happens, they won’t have to go back to the way it was before. I will always put Apollo in the latter category. He works hard for what he has and what he gets and, I think, things that signify extravagance make him uncomfortable. On the other hand, I think that the Gavin’s have always had some sort of wealth. Klavier and Kristoph have very different aesthetics to their spaces that we get to experience (Klavier’s office and Kristoph’s cell) but they’re both pretty lavish. Now, we can assume they each made their money individually in their respective careers but, honestly, Kristoph’s cell is so gaudy. To me, it screams “this is what I’m used to and I refuse to accept any less” which is an attitude that I feel comes more from a lifetime of that treatment.

So if we accept everything that I’ve said above as true, trying to put a person who saves every penny they get and feels bad treating themselves with a person who spends money freely because it’s been a constant throughout their life? It can go poorly. Casually dating, maybe it’s not such an issue once Apollo says “please no more presents and can we just get takeout for once?” but if you’re talking about something more serious, where you have to live in the same space and pay joint bills and be confronted with the other person’s spending habits constantly, it’s a whole other thing. Please take it from me as a person in a long term relationship who loves their partner tremendously—everyone fights about money. Everyone. It would be very difficult for Apollo to feel comfortable, even if he knew that finances were in good shape and there was savings, etc. Things happen, people leave. Nothing gold can stay. Changing that line of thinking takes work. It would also be easier said than done for Klavier to just do an about face on his own habits for Apollo’s comfort. Being a celebrity makes money, but it costs money, too. There is a certain amount of lushness that people expect. That can’t just go away. These are things that become bigger problems overtime, no matter how much you love each other.

Anyway, I would be really surprised if—even if you’re writing them as really happily married—Apollo doesn’t have a ‘emergency fund’ that even Klavier doesn’t know about. It’s a ‘just in case’. Just in case Klavier leaves him. Just in case he needs to get away fast. Just in case the world ends. It’s not a logical thing, something that he sat down and rationalized doing, it’s just there because it feels better to have it than to not. But that can be kind of hurtful if the other person finds out about it, so. There you go, a whole minefield of money related drama.

2. Apollo’s Abandonment Issues. He’s got them! What do you call and orphan twice over who also lost his very best friend? I don’t know, but if capcom doesn’t stop picking on my boy I’m going to kick them in the teeth. I will still never get over AA6 for telling us that Dhurke took Apollo in when he was orphaned as a baby, then abandoned him in the USA, then came back for him and got his hopes up, and then was actually dead the whole time! Hahahaha! What a trip!

Anyway, you don’t come back from that super easy. People who suffer this kind of trauma usually have a really hard time trusting others, which is understandable. They also can have unrealistic needs from their partners, become codependent, or even just self-sabotage their relationships, pulling away first to try and avoid the pain because they think the other person will leave them. I think that last one is most likely for Apollo, especially given the disparity in circumstances I mentioned above. If Apollo can’t trust that Klavier actually loves him, can’t trust that he won’t leave him like EVERYONE ELSE HAS, then they can’t have a healthy relationship. Drama.

3. Klavier’s Emotional Trauma. Kristoph is a pretty big jerk to Klavier in the last case of AA4. He criticizes and undermines Klavier, threatens and admits to manipulating him. In the anthology, Klavier shares an “lol so funny!” story about Kristoph accidentally breaking a window while he and Klavier are playing ball. In it, he convinces Klavier that it was his fault and that he should take the blame and apologize for breaking the window! And Klavier does! That’s gaslighting, baby, and since the Anthology is supposed to be canon, we can take that to mean it’s been happening since Klavier was a kid. Think about that. An entire life of gaslighting and manipulative behavior! You don’t come back from that easily, either.

People who experience emotional abuse can, among other things, suffer from depression and low-self esteem. They need affirmation from their partners and can have a hard time with letting people in or being honest (though not from a malicious mindset—more a “I’m going to say what I think you want to hear because if you’re happy, bad things won’t happen!”). They can also always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. Sure things are good, but when will that end and the bad time start? It’s a self fulfilling prophecy: if all you can do is worry about things going wrong, then you aren’t actually enjoying when things are going right and you will cause the issues you’re so worried about. Drama.

4. Fame. Klavier has been in the spotlight since he was a literal child. If the Gavinners were already hits when Klavier was 17, they likely formed and starred their rise some time before then. A year, maybe two? Klavier spent his formative years in the spotlight. He quite literally doesn’t know any other way. Apollo, on the other hand, has never experienced the kind of scrutiny he’d be subject to when dating someone like Klavier. It can be really stressful and hurtful and just overall not a good time. And I’m not saying that Klavier wouldn’t be sympathetic, but I don’t think he would really understand how difficult it could be to have been thrust into that position out of nowhere, because he’s had years of dealing with it and was in a completely different place in life when it began for him. It’s not unreasonable to think that Apollo might not be able to take it. You can love someone and want to be with them but if you can’t adapt to their lifestyle, it’s not going to work. They could walk away rather than risk what might happen to Apollo if they kept it up. Drama.

5. Careers. They both have very demanding jobs. While sharing a similar profession can mean there’s a mutual understanding, it can also cause issues if you... never get to see each other? Schedules can be out of alignment (which could easily happen; their cases can’t always line up and they seem to require a lot of time investment outside of just normal hours). If Klavier goes back into music, that’s an additional time constraint. Why be in a relationship when you can only see the other person for moments here and there? What about the stress that comes with those jobs? That can cause drama.

6. Klavier looks like Kristoph. They are very different people, yes, but similar enough in some ways that it could cause tension. Maybe Klavier is tired and stressed and snaps at Apollo, and suddenly, all Apollo can see is Kristoph and all he can feel is the uncomfortable churning in his stomach that goes along with the memories of him. Someone he trusted, someone who let him down. That’s a difficult subject to broach, and it can fester like an infected wound if left intended.

But Apollo sounds like Kristoph sometimes. We saw it in AA5, which is, of course, an extreme circumstance. But it can come out from time to time in other ways. A phrase that slips out, the way he intones certain words, the way he signs off in his emails—little things that are harmless, but can still act as triggers.

Sometimes you need to get away from things that can remind you of your past in order to work on getting over them. If you are in love with someone who shares a similar trauma, who brings those issues from the past to light frequently just by being themselves, it might not be a healthy situation. I don’t think they would need to throw it in each other’s faces for it to become an issue. Drama.

There are more, but I probably took this more seriously than you intended. Whoops! Anyway, I hope that helps??? Maybe???? I hope you get them back together in the end because they deserve to be happy though!!!!!!!

#LONG POST #shut up krissy #if you want me to cut this please let me know #klapollo

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yugen-works-118 · 3 years

Text

Happy Valentine’s Day! It’s a little bit late, but it’s too damn cold for Texas so here’s some fluff! :D

————————————————————

The air was cold. Too cold, Aki mused to herself. Wasn’t it supposed to start warming up by now? She exhaled from her mouth and watched the puff of air form a cloud for just a moment before vanishing. She hugged the bags of chocolates closer to her chest hoping to keep them from becoming too cold. Learning and getting the hang of how to make chocolates was a tedious process, thank god she decided to begin preparing them at the beginning of the week with how many failed attempts there were. She could feel her fingers beginning to go numb, she wished she had brought some gloves or something. She looked down at the bags of chocolates tucked into her arms. This would be the first Valentine’s Day she spent with people she actually cared about and loved, wouldn’t it? She smiled softly at the thought. She wasn’t sure what to expect of it, and she was a bit nervous, but knowing her friends; everything would go well.

“Aki-San!”

“Aki-nee-chan!” She stopped and turned around to see Rua and Ruka jogging towards her.

“Hello, Rua, Ruka,” she greeted. The twins were bundled up nice and warm with matching light blue and pale pink winter coats respectively along with boots, pants, and gloves. Rua wore a beanie which hid his ponytail while Ruka donned a pair of fluffy earmuffs.

“Are you going to Poppo Time too?” Rua bounced in place excitedly.

“Yes, I am.”

“Cool!” Aki realized, seeing as they were already here she might as well. She fished through the pile of bags clutched to her chest until she found Rua and Ruka’s bags of chocolate.

“Here,” she said. She handed the appropriately labeled bags to each twin. They both beamed at her and wrapped their arms around her sides as best as they could.

“Thank you,” they said simultaneously. Aki smiled and wrapped an arm around both of them as best as she could with the pile of bags in one hand.

“Of course.” The twins smiled up at her before presenting bags of their own to her. She smiled and thanked them in return. The rest of the walk to Poppo Time was filled with talk of how their days went, things they had planned for the weekend such as going out with Bob, Tenpei, and Patty, and other mundane things. Once they arrived at Poppo Time, Rua took a running start and practically slammed the doors open much to Ruka’s chagrin.

“Hey guys!”

“Yo! What’s up Rua?!” She heard Crow call back just as enthusiastically. Rua had already run down the ramp and was talking with Crow and Bruno in the garage when Aki and Ruka entered the door.

“Hi,” Ruka greeted as she walked down the ramp. Aki lingered for a moment to close the door.

“Hey, Ruka, Aki!” Crow greeted.

“Hi!” Bruno greeted from the entrance of the living room.

“Hello,” Aki responded. She walked down the stairs and joined the lot of people in the garage. Rua ran and peered around Yusei’s duel runner, looking disappointed at the absence of the mechanic.

“Huh? Where’s Yusei and Jack,” Rua asked. Meanwhile, Ruka was giving both her and her brother’s bags of chocolates to Crow and Bruno. Aki doing the same a moment later.

“Thanks you guys! Jack went to spend the day with Carly, so, who knows when he’ll come back,” Crow explained. “Hm, I’m not sure where Yusei went though. I just got back from making deliveries and he wasn’t here.”

“Yusei went to go pick up some parts for some of the computers he’s working on fixing.” Bruno clarified, then turned to Aki and Ruka. “Thank you,” he said as he accepted the bags of chocolate. Rua pouted and groaned.

“Aw!” Crow chuckled and rubbed Rua’s head.

“It’s all good though, they’ll probably be back soon. In the meanwhile, who wants some hot chocolate?! Because it’s damn cold outside!”

“Me!” The twins cried simultaneously while raising their hands excitedly. Aki chuckled at their antics.

“I’ll take some as well if you don’t mind. Thanks Crow.”

“Can I have some too?” Bruno asked sheepishly.

“Heck yeah you can! Go get some blankets and take off your coats!” Crow instructed.

“Yes sir!” Rua mock saluted with a grin on his face. Ruka smiled and chuckled at her brother’s actions. The four of them walked to the living area and shedded their heavy winter coats, gloves, and head accessories before plopping down on the couch, Rua comfortably nestling into Aki’s right side while Bruno took a seat to Aki’s left after he threw some blankets over them all. The room was filled with a blissfully comfortable silence save for Rua gently asking Ruka if she was warm enough or would want more of the blanket, only to be met with gentle assurances that she was fine. Aki hummed contently and snuggled further into the couch, closing her eyes. She heard the twins giggle softly and felt Rua bury himself into Aki’s side. Aki smiled gingerly and began stroking the boy’s hair gently. At some point Bruno began to talk about projects and the progress of their engine program that Yusei and him made, Aki hummed in acknowledgement at the appropriate times and praised their work when needed. Crow came back in the room carrying a tray with five steaming cups of hot chocolate resting atop it. Crow distributed the cups to each person before demanding Bruno to scooch over so he could sit too. Bruno tried his best to not disturb Aki and the twins with his awkward shuffling. At that point, Crow began talking about how his deliveries went, how some people were just plain rude assholes to him, and any other occurrences that happened while running his deliveries. Eventually he began asking the twins and Aki about how school was going for all of them. At some point, they all heard the garage door open and close quite loudly.

“Hi everyone! Huh? Where is everyone?” That was Carly’s voice. They also heard Jack harumph.

“Where the hell are you Crow?!”

“In the living room!” The orange headed man shouted back. It wasn’t long before Jack and Carly entered the living room.

“Hey Jack, where have you guys been all day? Hi Carly!” Jack hmphed and claimed it was none of Crow’s business.

“We went on a date at the pier!” Carly stated at the same time. Jack turned to look at Carly, his eyes squinting at her. A bead of sweat rolled down Carly’s face as she sheepishly turned to face her lover.

“Hehe, sorry,” she apologized meekly. Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The blonde then turned and caught sight of their guests.

“I’ll be right back, just a moment.” Jack stomped off, earning quizzical glances from Crow and Carly. The reporter sheepishly turned to face the lot on the couch.

“So, uh,” she chuckled awkwardly. “How’s life?” They all stared at her blankly and shrugged. Jack entered back in the room with a plastic bag.

“Here,” he huffed, shoving a chocolate bar in Aki’s hands. “You should be grateful that I of all people got you lot anything.” He shoved two more chocolate bars into each of the twins’s hands. They all chuckled and smiled at the blonde.

“Thanks Jack!” Rua smiled at him. Ruka thanked Jack as well.

“Thank you,” Aki said. Oddly enough, the man seemed a tad surprised but huffed.

“You should be grateful.” Aki softly asked Ruka to reach for the pile of bags on the small table behind her. Rua reached forward to the coffee table and retrieved Jack’s bags of chocolates while Aki did the same. Three bags of chocolates were presented to Jack.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Aki smiled. Jack hmphed and smiled, taking the three bags.

“Offerings worthy of a king, I shall enjoy these.” The three chuckled at their older friend. Crow paused for a moment, and then his eyes widened.

“Oh crap, that’s right!” Crow pressed his hand against Bruno’s face to brace himself as he stood and ran to the kitchen, calling out an apology to the now disheveled Bruno. Jack puffed air through his nose and went to get a blanket for him and Carly to share from his room. Crow came back in the room with three goodie bags and gave one to Rua, Ruka, and Aki. “Sorry, I completely forgot about them,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. They waved off the apology and said it was fine.

“Wait, aren’t you usually supposed to wait until White Day to give gifts back?” Ruka asked. Jack and Crow both looked at each other and then at Ruka, shrugging.

“We know about White Day, but that wasn’t a holiday Martha celebrated all that often,” Crow explained. “So, we never had much of a reason to follow that tradition.”

“Oh,” was Ruka’s simple reply. She then shrugged. After a moment of comfortable silence Bruno stood and excused himself to the bathroom. Then, not too long after Bruno left, the door opened but closed much harder than when Jack and Carly arrived, as if the door was kicked closed.

“Yusei! We’re in the living room!” Crow shouted.

“Okay,” Yusei replied, then grunted with an accompanying sound of metal clinking together. Soon enough, the leader of the Signers entered the living room and blinked at the sight of everyone gathered on the couches.

“Hiya,” Carly greeted with a wave. Yusei waved back and greeted his friends.

“Your chocolates are right there,” Ruka explained as she grabbed Aki’s remaining chocolate bag to Yusei and placed it next to their’s. Yusei froze and stared at the chocolates, and then smacked his palm over his forehead.

“I’m so sorry, I entirely forgot today was Valentine’s Day,” he explained.

“What?!” Crow exclaimed. “But I reminded you at the beginning of this week!” Yusei sighed.

“You did, but I got so swept up in my side projects that I forgot about it.”

“It’s fine,” Aki assured. “Don’t beat youself up over it.” The twins nodded in agreement with her. Yusei sighed and nodded in thanks, awkwardly looking around for where to sit. Crow pat the spot where Bruno had been sitting, barely suppressing an impish grin behind a pleasant smile. Yusei silently took the offer. Aki picked up the blanket, allowing him to sit before placing the blanket gingerly over him.

“Thanks,” Yusei said as he tucked himself further into the blanket. After Yusei settled in and got comfortable, Bruno came back in the room.

“Aw,” the man deflated. “My spot.”

“I can get up and-“

“No,” Bruno shook his head ‘no.’ “It’s fine.” He grabbed a pillow and sat on the remaining one person sofa in the room.

“So,” Crow piped up after a minute. “Do you guys want to watch a movie or something?”

“Your obsession with watching movies is atrocious,” Jack scoffed.

“Aw,” Cary whined. “I was kind of wanting to watch one.” Jack paused and... sheepishly turned away from his friends, the shell of his ear tinged a dark red. Crow snickered and started laughing.

“I’m taking that as a yes!”

——————

Were these the kinds of moments she had been missing out on? She couldn’t remember ever feeling this warm and fuzzy. Buried under blankets, being surrounded by her new family, and enjoying such mundane activities. She glanced over at the loveseat where Carly had dozed off and cuddled into Jack’s chest who had his arm wrapped around her. Then to Bruno who was still watching the boring romance movie, that she couldn’t remember the name of, along with Crow, both looking like they were about to fall asleep. Then to Rua, who was still buried into Aki’s side, but cuddling Ruka, both of them had fallen asleep sometime ago themselves. She sighed contently and stroked Rua’s hair once, a smile gracing her lips.

“Are you still awake,” came the soft whisper from her left. She looked over to Yusei and nodded silently. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you were or not. Is something on your mind?” She smiled again.

“Nothing bad, I suppose I’m just enjoying how nice this is.” Yusei waited until she continued. “It’s just, I haven’t experienced this before. My parents were never particularly the kind to spend family time together and neither was anyone at the Arcadia Movement. So, this is new to me,” she explained. Yusei smiled at her.

“I’m glad,” he responded softly. The two fell back into a comfortable silence, nothing else needing to be said. Aki eventually dozed off herself after failing to pay attention to the movie.

————————

“Well! It’s going to be dark soon, and we don’t want to be out after dark, so, we’ll see you guys later,” Rua explained, Ruka nodding in agreement. The twins had already begun pulling on their coats and accessories.

“Okay, well, be safe on the way home you two! And stay warm!” Crow called after them as they walked away from Poppo Time. Crow shivered and closed the door. Jack had already gotten up and left to go take Carly back to her apartment. Bruno had already retired to the sofa down in the garage for now. Crow walked back up to the living room and snickered. Yup, the remaining two were still cuddled up like lovebirds, he thought to himself as the view of a sleeping Yusei now leaning his back on the arm of the sofa with a pillow underneath him and an arm wrapped around Aki’s shoulders. The psychic herself was sound asleep on top of him. The two being covered by at least three blankets. Oh well, not his business.

“Unbelievable,” Jack scoffed softly from behind him. Crow nearly jumped out of his skin and barely restrained himself from smacking his older brother upside the head. “This is some of the sappiest shit I’ve ever seen.”

“You already know Martha would’ve been taking pictures already,” Crow mused. Jack nodded in agreement and the two walked away.

——————

Aki opened the door to Poppo Time, shivered, and nearly slammed it back shut. It got so much colder! Of course it would get even colder after the sun went down, she reasoned. She then cursed herself for not bringing a heavier winter coat. She sighed and prepared herself to brave the cold until she felt a hand land gently on her shoulder. She turned around and found Yusei behind her with a thick and fluffy brown bommer jacket.

“Here,” he held the jacket up to her. “The weather channel had said that it would be in the thirties around nine.”

“Are you sure?” She hesitantly held a hand out. He gently pushed the jacket into her hands.

“Yeah, and since it’s already dark out I’ll go ahead and walk you to the train station.” She accepted the jacket gratefully and pulled it on before zipping it up. She silently noted about how it actually kind of fit her.

“Wait, walk?” She questioned. He nodded.

“The roads are closed because it’s too icy to drive right now.”

“Oh. Well, you don’t need to, I’ll be fine. It’s too cold and I don’t want you to get sick,” she explained as he pulled a large navy colored winter coat on anyway.

“And I don’t want you to be out there by yourself,” he countered. She looked in his eyes and sighed. She recognized that look. She knew he was going to accompany her no matter how much she protested.

“Okay,” she relented. Yusei finished zipping his coat closed before opening the door and holding it open for her.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to walk Aki to the train station!” He called out as an afterthought before closing the door. Crow and Jack peaked their heads out from around the corner of the kitchen, and then looked at each other incredulously.

“Wasn’t that his old favorite jacket?” Jack nodded at the younger man.

“It is,” the blonde confirmed.

————————

“So, where are your parents?” Aki hummed and glanced away.

“They’re out of the country. Dad had some kind of political event to go to in the United States, and mom went with him. Last I heard from them earlier today they were in Texas at some kind of river walk. They were celebrating their wedding anniversary there.” Yusei sighed. He would never fail to be miffed about how her own parents could just leave her alone like this even after what they went through trying to get her back, same with Rua and Ruka’s parents. Aki shrugged. “It’s not a big deal though, I mean, it’s not like I’m not used to it.” He winced.

“That doesn’t mean you should have to be used to it,” he stated bluntly. Any argument she was going to come say after wilted away with a sigh.

“Well, at least they’re trying more than they used to,” she supplied. “Mom wants me to go with her to Germany to meet some of her family during the summer of next year. She extended the invitation to you guys as well if you want to come.” Yusei hummed in consideration. He’d never been outside of Neo Domino or Satellite before. It sounds like it would be an interesting experience. Perhaps some issues concerning a language barrier, but, he’s sure that maybe that could be worked out somehow. The trip would also take place after the WRGP as well, so, it wasn’t as though he had any major plans in the foreseeable future after that.

“I’ll think about it, but I’ll go ahead and tell Jack and Crow about it and see what they think.” She hummed in acknowledgement. Eventually, the lights surrounding the train station came into view, and the two walked steadily towards it.

—————————

Yusei leaned his head against the cement pillar while Aki requested and paid for her ticket. He briefly turned and glanced at the girl, and he couldn’t help but remember waking up after the movie. After the initial panic of, “When did we even fall asleep,” and, “Holy crap Aki was sleeping on top of him,” faded, he found himself admiring how content and peaceful she looked. It was the most relaxed he had ever seen her, he thinks. And he couldn’t stop thinking about that smile on her face from before she fell asleep. She looked so happy and wistful, like a fairy, he thought. Of course, a small part of his part broke when she explained that she had never experienced that simple joy of being around people who genuinely cared about him. He knows that if he had never been able to experience those moments with Jack, Crow, and all of his other friends, he would not have been able to stay completely sane. Which is why he admires her strength. Sure, she was definitely affected by Divine and the way he manipulated her and hurt her, but, she had the mental fortitude to be able to pull herself back up onto her own two feet and evaluate herself. She was still in the process of doing that even now, but she was much better off than in the beginning. Back when Yusei had known that she couldn’t stand up by herself without any support, so he had allowed himself to be her crutch for a time. It took a long time, unlearning any old habits instilled into her, and breaking out of the mental cycle that had let her fall so low, but with each day that passed, he was able to see her begin to lean on him less and less, which made him glad that she was growing by herself. To see that smile, to see the fruits of her own hard work, it filled him with hope for some reason. It was beautiful, and awe inspiring. To see who she was blooming into, a blend of her experiences and who she used to be, it was beautiful. He can’t put it into words how and what she makes him truly feel, but, he knows that the answer isn’t anything bad, and it isn’t an answer he’s scared of finding out.

“Yusei?” He jumped as he heard her from right beside him. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed her return. “Are you feeling alright? Your face is all red.” Without hesitation, she removed her hands from the pockets of his jacket and gingerly placed them on his face and forehead. He froze in shock. “You’re not getting sick are you? Your face is red and you’re feeling warm,” she explained her concerns. She removed the hand on his forehead and placed it on his other cheek, rubbing just underneath his eye where his criminal marker was soothingly. When was the last time someone touched him so tenderly? Those kind of touches were usually associated sensations to Martha and another set of familiar yet unfamiliar hands that he vaguely remembered; his birth mother’s hands probably, he would realize later.

“I-I’m fine,” he quickly got out after forcing himself to not get lost in his thoughts again. Since when did he stutter? He reached up and held her wrists delicately, debating with himself about whether or not to pry her hands off. Aki’s hands were warm, but the slight chill of having them out in the open air briefly still lingered.

“Are you sure?” He nodded.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. She gently pried her hands from his grasp, but instead of dropping them back down to her sides right away, she held his hands and squeezed them briefly before doing so. He found himself yearning for the warmth of her hands almost as soon as she let go, but didn’t show it. He dropped his hands back to his sides as well. After a lingering awkward silence, Aki gently fiddled with the zipper of his jacket.

“Um, do you want this back later or now?” He blinked at her and paused, considering his answer.

“You can keep it,” he said instead. She looked up at him in surprise.

“Huh?”

“You can keep it,” he reiterated. “It’s a jacket that I don’t really use anymore,” he lied. Well, it was technically a half lie. It was one of his favorite jackets actually, but, it was true that he tended to favorite his blue jacket nowadays than any other jacket he had. Besides, he was by now starting to grow out of it, he noted as he realized just how well the jacket suited her.

“Are- Are you sure?” He nodded silently. At that moment, the two turned their heads and stared at the train as it pulled into the station. “Ah,” she said somewhat disappointedly.

“That’s your train, right?” She nodded. He stood from his placement against the pillar. “Well,” he sighed disappointedly. “You should probably go ahead and go, you wouldn’t want to miss it.” She sighed and began her treck to the train’s entrance before she paused about half way. He stared at her, wondering if she had forgotten something, but was taken by surprise when she turned around and ran at him. She jumped and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. He found himself frozen in stupor once more.

“Thanks, for everything,” she said. “Be careful on your way home okay?” After getting over his shock, he found himself wrapping his arms around her as well.

“Yeah, I will. Be sure to let me know when you make it home safely.” She nodded into his shoulder.

“I will, same goes to you too though.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed her once more before they detached from each other. When her face was in his vision, he felt like he was blown away when he realized she was smiling at him. Not at something else, not at anyone else, just him. That precious smile was just for him this time. He hadn’t even realized he had been holding his breath until the train’s doors closed. He lowered his hand after the two had stopped waving at each other and the train had slithered out of view into the tunnel. He almost didn’t realize that he had already begun walking home until the only lights that remained were the street lamps above him. A bit numbly, he reached into his pocket and felt the plastic of the bag of chocolates that Aki made for him. He pulled the string tying the bag closed until it unraveled. Then, he popped one of the small chocolates into his mouth, and smiled as the warm caramel coated his tongue. Well, he now had an inkling of what he was feeling. But, still, it was a tango he’d rather not pursue until the WRGP and Illiaster were no longer a threat, he noted with a sigh. So, he’d wait, but that didn’t mean he’d be yearning for the day he didn’t have to wait anymore.

————————

BONUS:

Rua grinned impishly as he stared at the picture. He clicked the ‘send’ button on the messaging app. Ruka sighed from beside him on the couch.

“You know Yusei-san and Aki-san will be livid if they find out about this right?” Rua resisted cackling, and shrugged.

“Oh well,” he said as he deleted the picture from his phone. Rua’s phone chimed with a message. The boy opened the app and looked at Jack and Crow’s responses.

“Rua, you’re a genius,” was Crow’s response.

“If we die by Yusei’s hands for this Carly knows it’s your fault.” Jack typed a few seconds later. Rua scrolled back up to the picture he sent just a few moments ago of a selfie Rua took with half of his face in the corner grinning mischeviously with the rest of the picture centering on a sleeping Yusei with his arm wrapped around a sleeping Aki who’s face was not visible, but half buried in his shoulder.

#yugioh 5ds #5ds #yusei fudo #fudo yusei #aki izayoi #izayoi aki #jack atlas #crow hogan #Rua #Ruka #carly nagisa #faithshipping #scoopshipping #fluff

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