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ibukis-songbook · 3 years ago

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[Non-Request] [One Shot?] [Smut]

Blackmail? - Kokichi/F!Reader/Kiibo

Hoooooooooboyyyyyyy this was long as HELL to write, and took quite a bit of back and forth editing to make it just right. This is actually the first smut one shot of this length that I’ve ever written, and I even considered breaking it into two parts because it’s really long with a lot of build up! I’ve been working on this since the first of the year and I’m so happy to be done with it so I can post it! I’m highly considering turning this into a series as it was really fun to make, so part two may be out soon!~ (or not, I do take forever to write anything lol) I have plenty more ideas to make y/n into a mess~

-Mod Ibuki 💜

.｡.:*☆♥︎♫♪—————— ↫ l l ↬ ——————♪♫♥︎☆*:.｡.

Dirty Thoughts - Chloe Adams

Off The Table - Ariana Grande

Hi, I’m a Sl*t - Lil Mariko

Synopsis: Kokichi finds f!y/n’s diary and sees all of her naughty secrets. He plans to embarrass her for his and her own enjoyment. He knows she has a little humiliation kink, after all.

Warnings: Fem s/o, AFAB s/o, is this dub con? it might be dub con*, hard dom Kokichi, switch Kiibo? (submissive to Kokichi, kind of a service top/soft dom to you), sub Kiibo goes to dom Kiibo in .5 seconds and it’s hot, Hope’s Peak University AU*, pet names, oral sex/cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, big boob joke on y/n’s behalf about her own tits, thigh talk, wrote y/n thicc on accident whoops, shock collar (mostly for Kiibo), handcuffs, threesome???, humiliation, degradation to praise (use of sl*t and wh*re), edging to overstimulation, mild hair pulling, I like being manhandled so sue me, Kiibo getting soft and literal heart eyes, Kokichi being a little shit, I use the c-word for fem parts sometimes*, weed joke I wrote at like four am that runs for three paragraphs, reader is slightly blunt, (HAHA BLUNT GET IT OUID), one (1) singular ass smack from Kokichi, also I wrote this before the Oscars and there’s a Will Smith mention and I’m just kinda laughing awkwardly at it now

*Reader consents but struggles at first. Kiibo and Kokichi also consent, obviously. Please don’t force yourself to read this if this is upsetting/triggering for you!

*Everyone attends college, so no killing games happen in this universe, but Kiibo’s still a robot and yes, still has a robo-dick. Cast of NDVR3 (Killing Harmony) are uni freshmen (18-19 y/o), DR1 (Trigger Happy Havoc) are uni sophomores (19-20 y/o), and SDR2 (Goodbye Despair) are uni juniors (20-21 y/o). Where y/n falls is up to the reader, just know you also attend classes at Hope’s Peak Uni.

*C-word being “c*nt”. I PERSONALLY do not consider this offensive, as it was actually the first scientific term for the vagina in the English language, thus I associate it more with the reproductive system and use it as slang rather than as an insult or a demeaning phrase. I’m also from the US so we don’t typically use “cunt” as an insult. If you find this insulting and seeing it prevents you from reading this, I completely understand. No need to read/like/comment/reblog if you really don’t want to, seriously. Don’t force yourself to read something you aren’t comfortable with.

Okay that was a lot of CW but I felt they were necessary! Into the fic. 🎵💜

This day was heinous. This day was terrible. You might even say this was the worst day ever.

You should have known better than to leave your diary unlocked on your desk in the same classroom as Kokichi. You really should have known better, but you figured that you were just getting up to go to the bathroom for, like, five minutes. No big deal right? He wouldn’t try anything, especially since you sat between him and Shuichi. Shuichi would never allow Kokichi to touch your personal belongings, right?

“Kokichi, what are you doing?” Shuichi glared at his friend, immediately aware that the shorter boy was up to something dastardly.

“Me? Oh, nothing, Shuichi dear!” Kokichi slid your diary over to his side of the lecture hall desk with one finger, swiftly opening it.

“Kokichi Ouma, put that down!” Shuichi whisper-yelled. Shit, he knew you’d kill him and Kokichi if you saw the two wrestling over your personal journal. “Kokichi, please, that’s y/n’s personal diary!”

Kokichi snickered, intently reading your handwritten secrets. “Nishishishi, chill out Shuichi. I’m just having a little fun, I don’t mean any harm!” Despite Shuichi wrestling to grasp the notebook, Kokichi had managed to make it several pages in already. He must have been very invested in what you wrote to be able to speed-read it like that, Shuichi thought.

“Shit, Kokichi, the professor is going to turn around. Just give it back already!” Shuichi’s voice cracked.

Kokichi shut the book and sighed, placing it back on top of your textbook. “Fine, whatever, it’s boring anyways. Nothing juicy enough to bother with…or am I lying?” He laughed, silencing himself as soon as you walked back into the room.

Shuichi gulped, visibly nervous about the thought of you finding out about the little tussle the two boys had just had. You slumped down into your seat, preparing for another fifteen minutes of your professor droning on and on about…ah, what was he going over again? Something about op-eds you think. You let your eyes close for a moment as you laid your head on the desk.

Your two seconds of rest didn’t last very long though, as you felt one of your deskmates staring at you. You opened your eyes to see Kokichi’s violet ones looking back at you. He was smiling that devilish little smile he had when he was plotting, and twirled his hair not-so-innocently.

“The fuck do you want, short stack?”

He smiled wider, looking even more mischievous than before. “Nothing in particular. I’m just thinking,” he chuckled a bit.

Ugh. He was likely just messing with you. You rolled your eyes and slept until Shuichi shook you awake at the end of class. You were so tired that you didn’t even notice Kokichi’s slight blush when he answered you.

꧁🎀꧂

“Later, nerds. I’m taking a nap,” you dragged yourself out of the building. It was a grey, rainy day outside of the walls of Hope’s Peak Uni, and it only added to your exhaustion. You couldn’t wait to get the fuck back to your room and pass out.

“Oh, wait y/n! Your bag is open. Let me get that for you,” Shuichi bounded up to you and stopped behind you. He zipped your bookbag closed, and sent you on your way with a slight smile.

“Thanks, Shu!”

Kokichi and Shuichi waved goodbye to you, ready to go about their own days, until Kokichi spotted Miu and Kiibo walking in.

“Hehe! What’s up, dumb slut? Hey Kee-boy!”

Miu strided over to the pair of boys, Kiibo tagging along. The normally chipper robot looked unusually upset today. Something else about him seemed different too, but Kokichi couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Hey guys!” the former Super High School Level Inventor greeted them. “Where’s y/n? She usually gets out of class with you.”

“She was really tired, so she went to her dorm to lay down.”

“Shuichi!” Kokichi interjected, “I was gonna tell them that she got kidnapped by DICE and taken to my secret underground base!”

Miu rolled her eyes. “What would your dumb organization want with her anyways?”

“Nefarious purposes. Anyways, Kiibo, why aren’t you talking? Did your voice box break?”

Shuichi stepped closer to Kiibo, who was scowling at Kokichi. “That’s what looked off. What’s with the uh…new…bling?”

The white-haired android sighed. Around his neck sat a new piece of tech, likely designed by Miu. It looked like a collar of some sort, with a strip of greenish blue LED light within its center, wrapping around the circumference of the neckpiece. “I’ll have you know that my voice box is perfectly fine, thank you very fucking much. Miu is just-“ he was cut off by a shock, presumably administered by the collar. He suppressed a shriek, grabbing onto the necklace.

Miu pulled out a small remote from her pocket. “Shock collar. I’ve just corrupted poor Kiibo with my awful swearing habits!” She pulled Kiibo into a tight embrace, his face shoved in her chest, and arms pinned under her own. She pet his ivory hair, “I’ve passed it onto him. So now, to reverse it, I’m trying out a new invention, brought to you by the one and only Gorgeous Girl Genius, Miu Iruma!” She let go of Kiibo, and grandly gestured Will Smith style to what hung around his neck.

“Behold! A shock collar that detects the wearer’s voice and punishes specific word inputs!”

“Woah, that’s…awfully interesting, Miu,” Shuichi scratched the back of his neck.

“I know! But unfortunately, the voice recognition doesn’t work right just yet. So, for now, I’m having to manually administer the shocks. I make them slightly stronger each time though, so eventually it should break Kiibo’s potty mouth.”

Kiibo rolled his LED eyes. “I’m an adult, you know. If I want to swear, I can! I’m not some little kid!”

“No, you’re not, but you are my lab rat, and this is fun. I have to go to class though, and Kiibo is done for the day, which means I can’t make sure he’s properly punished! That’s actually what I was going to ask y/n for, but unfortunately, she’s not here.”

Kiibo pinched his nose in a very human-like fashion.

Miu held out the remote, dangling it between her index finger and thumb. “But, if either of you were to volunteer to watch him for the day…”

Kokichi grinned his signature grin and snatched the remote out of Miu’s hand. “I would gladly watch over Kee-boy for the day! I don’t have anything else to do anyways.”

Shuichi whipped around to book it to his next class. “Sorry guys, but I have to go. Kokichi, don’t do anything dumb, please! I know you’re planning something!”

“Worry not, Detective Saihara! I’m not up to anything!” Kokichi shouted after him. He then turned to Kiibo as Miu sauntered away, thanking Kokichi for taking her responsibility for the day.

“That was totally a lie. I’m up to something great. Wanna know some juicy secrets, Kiibo?”

“Even if I say no, you’re going to tell me anyways, aren’t you?” The robot boy sighed again.

“Oh, you know me so well! Seriously though. You’ll really like this. Like, really like this.” He slung his bag over his side, reaching to open the pocket. He pulled out a simple looking notebook with an open lock on it.

With that, they were off to Kokichi’s dorm.

꧁🎀꧂

Ding!

Ding!…Ding!

Ding!Ding!Ding!Di-

You picked up your phone to see ten messages from Kokichi from within just the past two minutes.

What the fuck did the grape bastard want now? It’s not that you didn’t like Kokichi, but you were sleeping. This was encroaching on your beauty rest, and your friend was in for a conversation with a very grumpy y/n.

“Y/n, answer me! Y/NNNNNN! COME 2 MY ROOM BBY!!1! I have a surprise for u! <;3”

His texts read like it was fucking 2010. You had to admit though, you blushed a little at his heart. Whatever. It wasn’t that big of a deal, it was just how he texted everyone, probably. What could he possibly want from you at four p.m.?

“I see u reading my shit. Gimme attention!!!!”

“Chill dude. I’m otw. I’ll be over in like ten, okay?” You sent a couple replies to quell his relentless texts. That would buy you enough time to brush your hair and teeth, throw a hoodie on over your skirt, and get to his dorm.

“Okie dokie! See you there peasant! :D”

Typical Kokichi to call you that, his talent being what it was and all. You shoved your phone into your hoodie and made your way out of your dormitory hall’s doors, not caring too much to be exactly on time, as much as you knew it would annoy the former Super High School Level Supreme Leader. He could deal with it. He did just wake you up for god knows what, anyways. So, you made your way up the small hill to the boys’ dormitory hall at your own damn pace.

You shot him a text letting him know you were downstairs, and the door swung open only a few seconds later.

“That was fast,” you said pointedly.

Kokichi stood on the other side of the door, holding it open with a simper stretched across his face. “I just ran down here ultra-fast! Kidding, I was waiting for you.” He grabbed your wrist, pulling you inside the hall and dragging you down the hallway. “I’m lucky that I managed to wake you up before nighttime! You know how RA Taka is about visiting curfew.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. Twogami might let it go, cause he knows me, but Taka definitely won’t,”

Kokichi laughed. “Twogami is kinda soft on you. Come on in! I have a little gift I set up for you.” He opened the door to his dorm, and you stepped inside. Kiibo sat on Kokichi’s bed, playing with his hands.

“This the surprise? I’m not complaining,” you smiled at the robo-boy.

“H-hey y/n!” Kiibo was…blue. Kiibo’s face was slightly bluish, which y/n knew all too well was his equivalent of a human blush.

“Hey Kiibo. You look embarrassed about something. What’s up?” You said that a bit more abruptly than you intended, but you could see that Kiibo looked like he wanted to say something.

Kiibo glowed a brighter turquoise and let out a nervous chuckle. “Ah, about that. Kokichi and I actually have…something to ask you…”

You turned to Kokichi, who stood behind you, balancing from his heels to his tiptoes. “You should sit down for this, y/n,” he said it so playfully, but whatever the boys had to ask of you seemed more serious. Was Kokichi going to ask you to commit some sort of crime for DICE? Was Kiibo secretly Kokichi’s weed dealer? Was Kokichi Kiiibo’s weed dealer? Was Kiibo smoking? Could Kiibo smoke? Forget Kokichi’s question about robots having dicks, could robots smoke?

You sat next to Kiibo on Kokichi’s bed. Although the likelihood of Kiibo smoking the devil’s lettuce was about as low as your final grade in econ would be if you didn’t start fucking studying, the suspense was killing you, and now you absolutely had to know if there was any possibility that Kiibo was getting high as balls with Kokichi and Miu on Saturday nights at half past two am in Miu’s lab.

“Okay, so,” Kiibo started. You wanted to say aloud what you were thinking, which was “Kiibo, I don’t care if you smoke. In fact, I want to join. I want to be shotgunned by a robot,” but you kept that to yourself.

He continued, his voice malfunctioning in a way that sounded not far off from a human stutter. “What Kokichi is about to tell you is a bit…of an, uh…invasion of your p-p-personal privacy, but! P-please don’t get mad! I uhm, he…told me a couple of things and��” His face was completely blue now, “I wanted to know if they’re true because I…um, I w-w-wouldn’t m-mind at all. In the slightest. If, you know, they were.”

The gears in your brain started turning as you looked at Kiibo, and the two boys could see you were confused as all hell.

A “huh?” fell from your lips as you tried to think of anything he could possibly mean. Is this about the time you lied to Kiibo and Kokichi about your bra size being smaller than it actually was so Kokichi didn’t tease you about it? It backfired and he still called your tits gigantic but at least you tried.

“Oh, look! Silly girl doesn’t get it yet! Here, lemme show you something that might help you understand everything, since you’re too dumb to figure it out yourself,” You rolled your eyes at his rude comment. Kokichi laughed as he hopped over to his desk drawer. He pulled out a small notebook, and held it up for you to see it clearly. It was a notebook with a lock on it.

A notebook with an unlocked lock on it.

“No. No fucking way. Kokichi, you better be fucking with me,” you began to sweat, seeing the shit-eating grin on Kokichi’s face as he laughed again, this time more boisterously.

“So you’re not a complete idiot! Yeah, it’s yours.” You could feel your heart sink and all the color from your face drain. Was the room spinning, or was that just you?

This day was heinous. This day was terrible. You might even say this was the worst day ever.

You lunged for the diary, but Kokichi evaded you, diving this way and that for the notebook. “Please tell me you didn’t read it!” you shouted. If they found out what you had written in that stupid thing, all of your friendships were most definitely over. You were screwed!

As you were contemplating how you were going to transfer colleges in a day, Kokichi got the upper hand in your little tussle and, from behind, pulled you to the bed, your larger form sitting between his legs, back against his smaller chest.

He tossed your diary to the side, and proceeded to hold your wrists to your sides tightly. For such a small dude, the guy had a good deal of strength that you were unaware of before. Kiibo sat himself between your own legs, firmly, but still tenderly holding your legs down with his hands around your thighs (how Kiibo of him). Having Kiibo there eased you a bit, but you still thrashed, trying to break free of Kokichi’s grip on your wrists.

“Please ignore how rude Kokichi is being about this! I’m so sorry y/n, but Kokichi did read at least some of what you wrote, and that’s what we need to ask you about,” having his hands on your thighs in this position made him just as blue as before, but he somehow looked…more…confident? His voice had mostly stopped malfunctioning, too.

Regardless though, you were so fucked, and Kiibo could see your face drop.

You stayed silent, waiting for Kokichi or Kiibo to say something, anything to break the awkward silence that had fallen between you three after Kokichi had totally shattered your…like, everything.

You braced yourself, steeling your insides and balling your fists, ready for whatever horrifying thing Kiibo was about to ask you.

“Do you really…want me like…that? With Kokichi…?”

Classic Kiibo. Even such a terrible question sounded so gentle coming from him. He couldn’t even finish his whole thought, he was so nervous. You could feel him scanning you for signs of any negative emotion. You hoped he wasn’t saving that to his database.

Deep breaths, don’t panic. Stay calm. Just be honest with him. It’s Kiibo. He probably won’t get mad. Probably. God, I’m gonna KILL Kokichi after this.

You took one more deep breath before speaking. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” you exhaled, about to lash out at Kokichi again. “Now, can I leave? You’ve embarrassed me enough.”

Kokichi laughed. “Of course not! You think that’s the only reason I’d bring you here? No, no, no!” Suddenly, you felt something cold and foreign against your wrists, clicking closed. Kokichi released your arms, and you thrashed again, unable to move your arms to the front of your body.

Oh he did NOT just cuff you-

“What the FUCK are you pulling, you purple-haired, checkerboard looking ass motherfucker?!” You shouted at Kokichi.

“Shhhhh, y/n, you need to be quiet, or we’ll get caught,” he shushed you, pressing a pale finger to your lips. Before you could bite it in retaliation, he pulled it away. “I just did this so I can use my hands now, silly. Now calm down and let us finish explaining.”

Your rage began boiling towards the surface of your skin. You just had to tell Kiibo, your friend, that you had fantasized about being in a very explicit situation with him AND Kokichi, your other friend. Now you were handcuffed with Kokichi behind you, teasing you, and Kiibo holding down your thighs so you couldn’t…..

“You have two minutes to finish explaining before I start screaming.” You spat out, your face heating up at the realization of what was happening, putting the pieces together in your head.

“Will do!” Kokichi seemed more than overjoyed to explain his little scheme, the evil smirk returning to his face. “I will tell the truth this once. I did read your diary, but like, only for a couple of minutes or so. I also stole it out of your backpack, because after I read it I thought up an evil plan, of course.”

He pulled you by the waist farther into him, and then tilted your chin to look him in the eyes. “I read all about how you wanna be totally humiliated. Now, I am a generous leader, so when I realized I can give you what you want, I seized the opportunity!”

Kiibo joined, “So he found me, explained, and asked if I wanted to join. I said I’d only do it if you were up to it. This is a major invasion of privacy, and if you want us to stop, then we will, and we can never bring this up again.”

“Or,” Kokichi started up again. He dragged a finger along your spine, from bottom to top. You shuddered. He leaned close enough to whisper. “If you don’t admit what you really want, we could just leave you cuffed like this, all helpless. Maybe we can even tease you when we have guests over! Would that be a fair trade?”

“Kokichi! You said you would be nice! Why are you being so rude to her?” Kiibo huffed.

You shook your head, trying to find a clear train of thought to put this together. “Wait, so you’re saying I have to tell you what my diary entry was about or you’re not gonna let me go?!”

Kokichi grinned.

“This is not what we planned, Kokichi. Why are you not doing what we discu-AGHH!” Kokichi cut Kiibo off with a shock to the collar.

“Where did the shock collar come from?!?” You shouted.

“Oh, it’s a cute little device Miu whipped up. The shock wasn’t that bad, it just startled him a bit. To answer your question though, yes. You’ll have to tell me what you want in order to get out of those cuffs! Also, stop yelling.”

This was total bullshit. “Fuck you, grape boy,” you growled.

“Not yet, sweetcheeks,” he smiled, softer and more flirtatious this time. He slid his hands down your torso, wrapping one arm all the way around your waist, the other hand resting on your hip. He gave it a slight squeeze. “So? Are you going to tell Kiibo and I what you want from us sooo desperately?” He rested his chin on your shoulder, leaning close to your ear. He was close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your neck. “Or, are we going to have to coax it out of you?” A shiver ran up your spine again as he kissed your neck, gently at first.

He sucked on your supple skin, and the rough pulling was beginning to leave hickies. You didn’t push him off, it felt way too good. You felt Kokichi’s semi-hard-on pressing up against your back. Excited already? Damn. You sighed, starting to buck your hips upward, beckoning Kiibo to do something about your growing arousal.

He lowered himself to his knees, him on the floor, you and Kokichi still on the bed. Swinging your leg over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but squish your thigh with the chilled metal hand that supported your leg from underneath.

“So soft…” he murmured, eyes wide with curiosity. You’d almost forgotten that he didn’t often get to touch the…softer parts…of people. He turned his head to touch his cheek to your inner thigh, his lips brushing against your skin. He looked up at you with pleading eyes. “M-may I…?”

You nodded as Kokichi slipped his hands underneath your hoodie, dragging his fingertips along your stomach and ribs. Kiibo kissed your thigh, and bit down slightly every few seconds, inching ever closer to your heat, before you felt Kokichi remove his hand from under your hoodie to reach for the remote. He pressed the button, and administered a light shock to Kiibo’s collar.

You could feel the aftershocks from the collar that hung around Kiibo’s neck, though it wasn’t strong. It didn’t startle you much, since you saw it coming, but Kiibo, who had been so lost in his ravishing of your inner legs squealed a bit at the unwarranted punishment. This time though, his cute little noise sounded much more pleasurable.

“Kokichi,” he pouted, “what was that for?”

“Nishishi. Silly Kiibo, you’re getting so excited already. I had no idea robots got so horny,” he teased.

“You need to take this slow though. How else are we going to pry it out of y/n that she wants us to ruin her?” He took a piece of your hair between his fingers, twirling it playfully. You rolled your eyes.

“Awe, don’t act like you don’t like us touching up on you like this,” he resumed attacking your neck, and you moaned ever so slightly. You knew what he was doing.

He was marking you so everyone would know how desperate you are.

“Getting turned on already? You’re so easy,” Kokichi chuckled. Rich coming from him.

Kiibo, after leaving just as many marks on the other leg as he had left on the first, looked bothered. He was already panting. “Kokichi,” he mumbled against your thigh, face oh so close to your clothed warmth, “can I please? Please? I really wanna.”

Kokichi grinned against your jaw. “Are you ready to tell us exactly what you wanted from us?”

You shook your head, and suppressed a whimper.

“Not yet, huh? Well, I guess we’re going to have to punish you a bit first to get the message through your thick skull,” he licked a stripe up the side of your neck, making you let out the whimper you were holding in. “Go ahead, Kiibo. You’ve been well-behaved, unlike our sweet y/n here.”

Kiibo looked up at you again, his eyes half lidded as he bit his lip. “Can I please taste you, y/n? I wanna taste you so bad…”

You shook your head yes, perhaps a bit too vigorously. Kiibo smiled a wide, dorky smile. He ran his hands up your hips, reaching the hem of your panties. Carefully, he slipped his fingers, now warm from holding your thighs over his shoulders, under the elastic and pulled them down your hips, and off of your legs. Once again, he hiked your legs over his shoulders, and stared wide-eyed at your exposed cunt.

His jaw slacked slightly, and you swore you could see him drooling (apparently robots can drool). Cautiously, he ran his finger along your slit, and you whined. “Pretty…” he mumbled. He barely dipped his finger between your lips, gathering your already pooling arousal and spreading it up to your clit. You let out a tiny moan when he brushed against it. Kiibo brought his finger, coated in your slick, up to his mouth to taste. You flushed.

“Unlike anything I’ve ever…” he trailed off. You’d once again forgotten that Kiibo had never done anything like this before. The two of you had talked about sex and sexual acts before, but he had never actually done anything. Despite that, he surprisingly knew human anatomy very well, as he had educated himself quite a bit out of sheer curiosity.

Yes. Sheer curiosity. No other reason…

Kokichi finally piped up again, the first time in a good five minutes actually. It was unlike him to keep his mouth shut for this long, especially as aroused as he already was, so of course he was due to say something about the scene unfolding in front of him.

“I wanna know how y/n tastes too! Kiiboy, lend me your fingers for a second, wouldya?” Kiibo obeyed, not even correcting Kokichi on his nickname. He seemed to almost be in a daze, letting Kokichi take his fingers into his mouth. Kokichi sucked on Kiibo’s metal digits, savoring any taste of you he could get, as he wouldn’t be the one administering your “punishment” as he had called it.

He released Kiibo’s fingers, and a string of saliva fell from the taller boy’s fingertips. Kokichi giggled, “Use that to make sure she’s thoroughly made up for keeping secrets from us.”

Kiibo didn’t nod, simply placing his fingertips at your entrance. You whimpered as he carefully slid his middle finger into your weeping pussy. He watched in awe as he pumped it slowly. He sighed, as if he was swooning, and leaned into your cunt, getting to work on your clit.

Your back was already arching at the feeling of his (somehow) wet, warm, silicone tongue flicking your bundle of nerves. The licking turned to sucking, and one finger turned into two.

“K-kiiiiibo…” You dragged out his name, and he hummed into your warmth.

Kokichi was busy with two other matters. He unclipped your bra (thank god you were wearing a front clasp today), and held the weight of your chest in his hands. They looked small carrying your breasts as he rubbed circles into your soft nipples. “Awe, look at how cute your nips are when they start to get hard!” he laughed, flicking one as it hardened.

“Ah! Kokichi!” He took the same nipple he flicked into his mouth, sucking on it gingerly, like he was apologizing for spooking you. That was until he bit down slightly and pulled the other nipple. “Ko- Eee! Kokichi!”

You clamped your thighs down around Kiibo’s head, unintentionally beckoning him closer to your sex. He took this opportunity to remove his fingers from you and replace them with his tongue, shoving it into your tight hole, and gripping at your thighs.

“Ka…Ki…Kii- I can’t, haaahh…”

Kokichi pulled his mouth off of your breast, licking your nipple one last time before resuming his position resting his head on your shoulder. He traced his hands along your torso again, tittering at your delicate moans.

“What a naughty y/n! You wouldn’t want my neighbors down the hall to hear you, would you? Or maybe you want Hajime or Rantaro coming in and seeing you all desperate and needy for Kiibo’s tongue. Perhaps Makoto. Is that it? You just need someone to see how much of a hopeless whore you are?”

You shook your head no, unable to speak because of the pleasure Kiibo was giving to you.

“Hmm, funny. That’s not what your book said!” he reached his hand into your hair, pulling at the base of the scalp, making you tighten your thighs around Kiibo even harder.

You could see Kiibo begin fo fall apart around you, his tongue becoming frantic as it fucked into your core, his LEDs lighting up with little hearts. Even his eyes had changed into heart shapes, and his ahoge curled itself to match. Fuck, it was cute. He moaned into your pussy, and you shook as you felt your high drawing closer.

“Awe, cat got your tongue? Well I guess your kitty has Kiibo’s tongue, nishishi!” You were so close to cumming. You could feel the tangle unraveling as each flick of Kiibo’s tongue sent shockwaves to your deepest parts.

“You’re so cute when you’re moaning like a slut. Unfortunately though, I’ve still yet to hear you say what you want from us, sweetie.” Kokichi reached for the remote, with you unable to do anything to stop him.

“No, wait!” But he had already pressed the button, and Kiibo lept back in surprise at the shock. The pressure between your legs ceased, and you were left bucking up into the air, desperate for any friction you could get.

Kokichi laughed, almost maniacally, at your ruined ecstasy. “Ready to tell me what you want me to do to you now, pretty little slut?”

You whined. If it weren’t for these stupid fucking handcuffs Kokichi would be so fucking dead. You weren’t giving in just yet though.

“I have more self control than that,” you spat at him. Kiibo resumed his position from before he was tongue-fucking you, with his head leaning on your thigh.

He hummed, grasping at the side of your leg. His eyes were totally glazed over now, and he looked almost…high. Maybe robots do get high? Just like, off of tongue fucking their friends.

He squeezed your thigh again, leaning against it like he was too drunk to hold his head up. “Come on, princess. Be a good girl and tell us so I can give you what you want.”

Woah. Kiibo’s voice was huskier than it was just a moment ago. Before, he pleaded to eat you out, basically begging you. Something must have fucking snapped in him though, because he was biting his lip and looking at you like he wanted to chase you down and devour you.

And it was hot.

You tensed your thighs again. Okay, maybe you didn’t have as much self control as you thought…

You whimpered. Kokichi and Kiibo both chuckled lowly.

“Come on, pretty girl. Please tell me what you want me to do. I’d just hate to have to leave you like this, just dripping wet.”

What the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK, KIIBO???

Mimicking his movements from before he was eating you out like you were his last fucking meal, Kiibo slipped his two fingers between your lower lips, letting your warmth cover his fingertips before dragging it up to your clit. You bucked your hips as he did. Gods, you were soaking.

Kokichi tugged lightly on one of your nipples, and you whined. “Oh, poor girl. Look how sensitive she is! It’s such a shame that she won’t just let herself go and tell the truth,” You felt his thumb and index finger catch your chin, and he turned your head around to face him.

Oh…

“Come on, little slut. Just be a good girl and tell us exactly what you want, and I promise we’ll give it to you.” You whined, for probably the tenth time this evening, and Kiibo gently rolled your clit with his index finger, not enough to satisfy you, but definitely enough to get you to break. Kokichi laughed.

“I… I wanna…fuck, I- I”

Kiibo leaned up to whisper to you, “Come on y/n, you can do it. Use your words, princess.”

Alright, THAT was the hottest thing a robot has ever said in the history of EVER.

“I wanna be t-touched. I wanna be marked. I want everyone to know that I belong to you two and that I’m your little plaything.” Your face was hot with embarrassment.

Kiibo finally sank a finger into your heat, making a come-hither motion with it. You cried out his name and tears started to form in your eyes, before you winced and shut them tight.

“Hmm,” Kiibo hummed, “gooood girl. Such a good girl.” His hand slid from your hip to your stomach, and he lowered his head to your pussy as he pushed you farther back into Kokichi. “Good fucking girl.”

Bzzzt.

Kokichi shocked Kiibo again, but instead of backing off like before, he delved into you further, and you felt the shocks on your inner thighs. You let out a pained moan. It hurt but it was so fucking good.

He totally did that shit on purpose.

You already could feel your high getting close again, and despite your wrists being bound, you managed to find Kokichi’s thigh and squeezed it.

He retaliated, smacking your thigh, as close to your ass as he could get without lifting more than just your leg. “Don’t be a fucking brat. I can call Kiibo off again. Do you want that?”

You vigorously shook your head no. “No, no please. Please, I’ll be good.”

“Apologize to me, y/n,” he grabbed your chin again, forcing your neck to turn this time. You knew he was enjoying the sight of you flushed and begging him for any sort of release. “Apologize to your supreme leader.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, please, just let me cum! I wanna cum, please!”

Before tonight you never expected that something of that caliber would come out of your mouth, but you were so desperate now, you just let it tumble out as you were getting the best tongue fucking you’d ever gotten.

“You can only cum if you say our names when you do,” Kokichi grinned.

You hardly gave a shit who heard you at this point. If everyone knew that Kiibo and Kokichi were making you a mess, so be it. You were theirs in the moment.

“Yes, I will, just, please!”

“Fine, I guess you can cum,” Kokichi feigned disinterest in your ordeal, and you were just about to let the knot in your abdomen unravel, when Kiibo shoved his tongue into your pussy as far as it would go and, to your complete astonishment,

it vibrated.

And you screamed out an amalgamation of both boys' names, riding out your orgasm, Kiibo lapping up your cum like he was dying of thirst.

As soon as it was over with, you felt the exhaustion set in, and you leaned into Kokichi, your face buried in his neck, not even caring that you had just shouted his name at the top of your lungs and the RA’s were probably going to give him a noise complaint.

Oh fucking well. His fault.

You heard the jangling of Kokichi undoing your cuffs. Before you could grab your wrists to rub the marks away, Kiibo took them in his own metal hands and did it for you. The feeling of his hands on your wrists, and Kokichi’s hand petting your hair arguably felt more intimate than the both of them making you cum.

Kiibo finally got off of his knees, and sat on the bed. He kissed your neck, your jawline, your cheek, all the while whispering little praises to you, still holding your hands.

“Good girl, you did so well. Thank you for letting us do that for you. So so good for us.”

Kokichi gently (Kokichi doing anything gently? Odd.) shifted you to Kiibo’s arms as he got off of the bed. Your eyelids felt weighted, but your heavy breathing had gone back to normal. Kiibo continued kissing your cheeks and holding you up, telling you how wonderful you were. The sounds of running water were lulling you barely into sleep.

Kokichi returned with a warm washcloth in hand. He lifted one of your lethargic legs, and then hesitated.

“Can I…? If you want to do it yourself that’s fine.”

You smiled a little bit. Kokichi was being kinda…sweet. You nodded, and he went to work gingerly cleaning you off. After he was done, he walked off and you heard him running the water again. It was Kiibo’s turn to clean off a bit, and he handed you over to Kokichi, who slid your panties back up your legs. Carefully, he leaned you back against the mattress and pulled the covers over you, him facing you. His arms fell around your waist, and yours around his, your face in his neck once again. His smaller body seemed bigger than usual as he was wrapped around you.

Kiibo shuffled out of the bathroom, and flicked off the light.

“Got a charging cord?” Kokichi asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got my retractable one.”

You couldn’t see anything, since you were facing the wall the bed was against, but you assumed the noises you were hearing was Kiibo plugging himself in, and that the weight next to you on the bed was the android climbing in with the two of you.

Kiibo wrapped his arms around you, his above Kokichi’s, and rested his chin on your shoulder.

It was kind of uncomfortable with the three of you together on a twin mattress, but it was nice. Kokichi and Kiibo were warm, and comfortable, and you were so, so tired.

“Your hair smells nice,” you felt Kiibo rumble next to your ear.

“Sorry, was that weird?”

You lifted your head to turn to him. “Nah. It was dorky, though. Thanks,” you chuckled a little.

“Thank you guys…for doing this for me. I mean, the diary thing I’m still totally gonna kill you over, Kokichi, but the rest was…nice.”

Kokichi grinned and laughed his stupid little laugh. “Nice is an understatement. You loved that.”

Quietly, so as to not disturb you, he mimicked your moans and whimpers from earlier. “Ahhh! Kiibo! Kokichi! Lemme cum, lemme cum!”

You flicked his head. “Oh shut up, dweeb.”

“I’m glad you liked it, though.” Kiibo mumbled.

“Pfft, I’m glad you liked it. Where did you learn to eat someone out like that?”

“I have internet access, y/n. I just did some of my own research,” he smirked.

“Neeeerrrrrrd,” you teased him.

“Whatever, just sleep. You’re exhausted, and my…” he paused to yawn, “battery needs to charge, too.”

“Alright, night guys.”

Kiibo had already changed to sleep mode, the whirring reminding you of a PC that had fallen asleep, and Kokichi looked like he was asleep, so you adjusted yourself back into a comfortable position and closed your eyes.

You were so tired that you almost didn’t feel it when Kokichi kissed your cheek.

Maybe today wasn’t that bad.

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nightmare-weaver-vex · 2 years ago

Text

A Nightmarish Confrontation.

Masses of purple clouds formed above your head, seeming to come from nowhere, obstructing your vision of the once peaceful sky. Lighting them from within were bright green Lightning sparked from one cloud to another, seeming to be drawn to a particular source of power. A shadow compromised of the familiar jester attire and eyes that seemed to radiate pure terror and destruction. However, those eyes were currently closed, almost as if in a trance.

A bolt of lightning brighter than the rest gave you a clearer picture of the figure in front of you. He sat cross-legged, hovering in mid-air, his gloved hands resting neatly in his lap, his elegant cape fluttering softly behind him. His body shone with energy like any you had ever seen before, it pulsating in time with his breathing. Curiosity drove you forward, almost like you were being drawn to him.

Without so much as a warning sign, one of the jester's eyes shot open, brimming with power. Uncrossing his legs, he swiftly rose to his feet. He looked annoyed at being interrupted but took a deep breath and chuckled from within his chest.

"Well, it seems you have survived my little trails. Congratulations! You have earned a front-row seat with the dastardly and marvelous Vex! Luckily, your presence interests me, so I shall keep you alive for now...Now, what brings you to such a foreboding place? You can't simply be sightseeing. Or have you come to gawk at a true God? Come now. Spit it out!

"Depending on your question, I shall consider keeping you around or not. You must know that as a trickster I bore quite easily. So for your sake, please keep this entertaining. Just remember, one wrong move and you will see firsthand why they call me the nightmare king. There is however one condition that you must know,I expect something in return from you. You can't expect me to do this for you without something in exchange, correct? Luckily for you, I have just the thing! I want you to... Let's see... What shall I do to you that is befitting of my title as a God? So what I want from you is..."

Vex was cut off by the expression currently adorning your face. He was caught off guard, to say the least, but it didn't last long as he let out a deep, malicious laugh.

"Awwww what's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Those in my presence are usually ready with a smart comeback, but you are different. I can already tell that we will have so much fun together! Now, I'm not completely heartless mind you, I still have my morals and ambitions. So, as a man of my word, I will permit you to speak. However,Consider your words carefully for I grow bored. You do not want to be around when that happens! After all, isn't curiosity what killed the cat?"

Going silent, Vex sat, his legs crossed over each other once more. His eyes pierced you to your very soul, almost judging you. He looked relatively peaceful except for his fingers drumming against his legs, showing his impatience. Taking a deep breath, you uttered your next few words that would seal your fate.

#role play #questions #interactions.#sackboy #vex sackboy #vex saba #alternate universe #jester #nightmare #lbp vex #little big planet #lbp

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ssadumba55 · 4 years ago

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Neverland (Peter Pan + Jane Darling X Reader)

Request: fanfic (or headcanons if you prefer) where Peter Pan, Jane Darling and Reader have adventure together! Reader always wanted to go on adventure and so they are very enthusiastic about it! If it helps, maybe something where they will have to climb trees?

The best part about being Jane Darling’s friend was listening to her tales of Neverland. After the brutalness of the war and all the uncertainty about how things would go back to normal, the stories of a boy who never grew up, who fought off pirates and had a friend who was a fairy were welcome distractions.

Jane loved telling them too, to anybody who would listen. After a while, the other children had grown tired of hearing the name Peter Pan but you never had. You still sat ever intently whenever she came to class, recounting her gallant tales of fighting Captain Hook and being the first ever Lost Girl.

It was late afternoon and the two of you were walking home from school. Jane was cheery as ever, she had been cheery ever since the war ended. You, on the other hand, never looked forward to the end of a school day. It just meant you got to go home and listen to your parents squabbling.

Peter Pan had the right idea, if that’s how grown ups acted, you never wanted to grow up either.

“Jane, do you think Peter Pan would ever take me on an adventure?” You kicked a rock on the path as you walked. The two of you were almost to the end of your street.

She tapped her chin as if she were thinking hard about the question. “I think Peter would love to. If I ever see him again, I shall let him know where you are. We could go on adventures together!”

Even though you were still dreading going home, her words lifted your spirits. An adventure with your best friend and the legendary Peter Pan would be amazing, maybe one day. Hopefully before you get too old to visit Neverland.

The two of you said your goodbyes and went off on your separate ways.

You briefly considered asking if you could stay the night at Jane’s but your parents would never let you. Instead, you made your way back home, sneaking up the stairs because your parents were in the middle of another argument. This was probably as good a time as any to do your homework.

That night, you tucked yourself in. It was a common occurrence in your household, your parents got so busy being mad at each other they forgot to tuck you in. That was okay though, you’d gotten pretty good at it yourself.

Who needed grown ups when you could do everything they could do already?

Tucked under your warm blankets, favourite stuffed animal at your side, you drifted off into dreamland. This was the only time the house was completely peaceful and..

Knock.

You snuggled into your blankets. Your mom must be knocking on your father’s door to apologize for whatever they’d been arguing about. Where were you in your dream again? Oh yeah, Peter Pan…

KNOCK! KNOCK!

The knocking was louder now and you sat up, slightly annoyed and disgruntled. It couldn’t be your mother, unless she was hoping to start another fight. But no, this noise was coming from inside your room. From… the window?

You rushed to open the window, it must be that dastardly wind again. It was always knocking tree branches into your- huh. That was odd. There was no wind at all.

You looked around, London looked so peaceful at night. Now that the city wasn’t under threat of attack, it felt a lot safer and warmer too. You wondered if anyone else felt the same way.

“(Y/n)! Hurry!” A familiar voice called and you poked your head out further. There, standing on the roof was Jane Darling. You had no idea how she’d gotten there or what was going on, but this looked like the beginning of an adventure.

You climbed over your window sill, not even caring if it was closed behind you. It wasn’t like your parents would even notice you missing anyway, there were far more important things to worry about.

You climbed carefully onto the roof, worried you might fall off if you weren’t careful.

“How’d you even get up here, Jane? There’s no way you climbed up here…”

She grinned, taking your hand. “Faith, trust and a little bit of pixie dust!”

Without saying another word, she lifted up into the air. She let go of your hand and spun around in the air, showing off that she could now fly. You waved your arms excitedly, this must mean that-

“You must be (Y/n), it’s a pleasure to meet you! Jane’s told me so much about you.” Peter Pan jumped out from behind you, scaring you half to death. Seeing your fear, he laughed and joined Jane in the sky.

“Tink! We’re going to need a little more pixie dust!”

The fairy began to sprinkle you with the shiny stuff, fluttering around and making tinkling sounds as she went. You laughed, waving to her and she waved back, returning to join Peter.

Both Jane and Peter took one of your hands and the three of you were off. Second star to the right, straight on until morning. Just like the stories Jane had told you. Only, you guess they weren’t stories anymore.

The landing in Neverland was a lot rougher than you’d been expecting, but maybe that was because almost as soon as you entered the mystical land, Captain Hook and his band of pirates were intent on shooting the three of you down.

Jane rolled her eyes in annoyance, as the three of you landed in a nearby tree.

“Those pirates will never leave us alone, will they?”

Peter let go of your hand, putting his hands on his hips instead.

“Eh, let em’ have their fun,” he brushed the pirates' antics off and began talking about all the adventures they could go on now that the two of you were there.

You tried to pay attention, you really did but there was so much to look at around you. You were in Neverland, THE Neverland from Jane’s tales. Oh! It was even more beautiful than she’d described it. If you squinted you were pretty sure you could see the mermaid lagoon from here.

By the time you came back to your senses, you realized Jane and Peter had wandered off, leaving you alone. Oh well! Time to do some exploring, this didn’t look like that big of an island anyway. If they really needed you they could come and find you. You really wanted to see that mermaid lagoon.

Now you’d really wished you’d stuck with Peter and Jane. The brisk air of the sea caught your pajamas, sending a shiver up your spine. You stood on the end of Captain Hook’s plank, hands tied behind your back. One more step and it’d be to your doom.

Even if you could swim (which you couldn’t), your hands were tied tightly and there was no way you’d be getting out of it.

“Go on, child,” Hook called from the safety of his ship. You swallowed the nervous lump in your throat, if you were going out, you were going to go out dignified. You held your head high, stuck your foot out and…

“Got you!”

Just before you hit the water, someone swooped in to save you and you realized it was Jane. She laughed as she carried you over to shore.

“EN GARDE HOOK!” Peter’s voice echoed and the sound of metal on metal could be heard from behind you. Jane and the Lost Boys, who had been waiting for the two of you, helped untie you.

You glanced over your shoulder. “Is Peter going to be alright?”

The others waved you off.

“He does this all the time. Come on, we’re playing fairy tag. Gotta find Tink before she tags one of us.”

The Lost Boys pulled on you and Jane’s hands. You laughed, running after them to keep up. This sounded like an adventure you could handle! Eventually, Peter joined the group and there was a lot of howling and laughter. Trees were climbed eagerly, laughter was heard, jumps were made. Eventually though, you started to get tired. The others, used to being so active, continued on while you rested your head in a nearby field.

Just for five minutes then you’d be ready to go.

When you awoke, however, you were back in your bedroom. The window was closed, there was no knocking but best of all the house was silent. It was rarely silent in the morning. You got ready for school quickly, hurrying to meet Jane at your usual spot.

Last night must’ve surely been a dream. Even though it had all felt so real, there was no way you had met Peter Pan last night.

“Oh good! You made it home alright!” Jane cheerily said when the two of you met up. You tilted your head in confusion. Of course you had made it home alright, she had seen you walk back to your house.

The two of you walked in silence a few moments before she giggled. You glanced over at her.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, it’s just… Peter had to carry you home last night. Because no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t wake you. He was very annoyed, next time you see him, I think you owe him an apology.”

Your jaw nearly dropped. So it hadn’t been a dream at all! You really had had an amazing adventure with Peter and Jane and all the Lost Boys last night.

Your eyes lit up when you realized exactly what she’d said. “Next time?”

“Peter likes you. All the Lost Boys do. No surprises there, though. You are my best friend!”

You felt your chest puff with pride. The best praise you could’ve ever gotten, if nothing else in your life went right, at least you would always have Jane and Neverland to think about when you were alone.

#disney imagine #disney x reader #jane darling x reader #jane darling imagine #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 5 years ago

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THE BOX IS NABOO

That’s it, I’m doing it, I’m writing that stupid meta I’ve had in the works for two and a half years, I’m sharing it with the world. I promised it for last Thursday, my poll was forever ago, but whatever! I’m writing that freaking thing.

(super duper long post, press j to skip)

Enter my rabbit hole.

First thing to establish: the Box makes no sense whatsoever in-universe.

((EDIT: Something I forgot to mention. IRL, the premise of a giant murder cube and the aesthetic - wall patterns, light designs, etc - of the episode come from the 1997 horror movie Cube, (see the episode’s wookieepedia page). However, while the two are very closely linked visually, the Box does not follow the movie structurally or narratively, as you can verify by simply reading the movie’s summary.))

Recap of the context for the "Box" episode (s4e17): Palpatine is planning his own kidnapping. It was never meant to succeed, and while the plan would obviously benefit him (making the Jedi look bad, pushing Anakin closer to the Dark Side, making Republic citizens more afraid -> more docile, etc...) his actual goal is never explained, and it’s weird that he’d go to such extreme lengths for results so minimal that we’re never told what they are.

So Palpatine asks Dooku to kidnap him at the Festival of Lights on Naboo. Dooku hires Moralo Eval to design a giant box-thingy to test bounty hunters to hire the best of them to kidnap Palpatine. Moralo then gets arrested to alert the Republic that something is afoot, and hires Cad Bane to break him out. Obi-Wan - undercover to learn Moralo’s plan - goes with them. They evade capture and go to Serenno, and Bane and Obi-Wan have to pass the box-thingy test. The level of brainkarked logic here... Truly on par with Megamind, Gru and Heinz Doofenshmirtz.

Setting aside the insane plot holes and utterly nonsensical behavior of the villains, the Box itself is moronic from a plot perspective. It’s insanely complex, obviously incredibly expensive and would have taken months (more like years but it’s a short war) to make when it’s not even needed for the dastardly plot! Just hire some guys who have already proven themselves against Jedi! Throw cash at Bane and Embo and a few others! Maybe attack them with your saber and see how they do!

And after all that, Dooku still ends up trying to kidnap Palpatine on his own. I can’t even...

So why does the Box exist? Well, apart from being a nerdy callback to Cube, giving us a good thrill and being generally awesome to look at, it has actual narrative purpose within the SW universe.

The box is Naboo.

What the Box lacks in plot relevance, it makes up for with its heavily symbolic meaning. It very closely follows Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s experiences on Naboo - but only certain parts, which I’ll explain later.

We start with clean, sterile environments, SW’s favored way of showing villainy.

Then we have the protagonists locked in a room as dioxis, a poison gas, pours in.

And then they escape... this way.

(Okay, here the shaft is down, not up. And it’s not a ventilation shaft per say, it’s the designed escape route. Same difference).

We then skip most of TPM (namely, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon discovering the droid army, finding Padmé, leaving Naboo, landing on Tatooine, going to Coruscant, etc, etc) to come back to Naboo and go directly to the lightsabers and catwalks.

(Note: in both scenes, Obi-Wan has to propel himself from a catwalk.)

In TPM and TCW, the catwalks are immediately followed by ray shields

And we finally end with the last scenes. Now, they don’t look the same but they are structurally identical.

Obi-Wan is faced with a challenge unsuited for his abilities (facing Darth Maul // shooting three moving targets when he’s far more skilled with a blade than a blaster) on a narrow space above a melting pit/pit of fire.

He first watches someone die failing to complete the task...

... and has to do it himself, faring much better than expected (holding his own against Maul // shooting all the targets easily).

He then almost falls to his death and gets saved unexpectedly.

And then there’s the final showdown.

In both scenes, Obi-Wan is angry. And in TCW Dooku eggs him on, banking on his anger. (More on that later.) In both cases though, he centers himself and is able to overcome both his opponent and his own unbalance. But in TCW, he doesn’t go for the kill, because he doesn’t need to.

The Box, as a literal character-explorator ex-machina, thus shows us Obi-Wan’s growth.

In TPM, Obi-Wan follows Qui-Gon’s lead. In TCW, he is the leader. He identifies the gas, makes the plans. He doesn’t fall from catwalks anymore - he runs atop moving ones. He doesn’t stay stuck behind ray-shields, he finds the solution. (Btw, how did Moralo know what blood type Derrown the Exterminator was? There was a 50% chance of him dying - thus killing all of the bounty hunters. Was that an acceptable outcome? TCW I need answers!) He doesn’t slay his foes, because he’s become powerful enough, skilled enough and wise enough to survive (and win) without needing to kill.

He’s grown - and, even more interestingly, he’s also stayed the same. In the previous episodes, we see some of the dark aspects of Obi-Wan. How he - like all Force-wielders, all people - could lose himself if he stopped maintaining absolute control.

But in the Box, surrounded by the worst criminals of the Galaxy, the most ruthless, worthless people, he’s still kind and tries his best to keep them alive.

The Box is a reminder and a reassurance for the audience that Obi-Wan Kenobi is still there under Rako’s face. He hasn’t lost his compassion, his restrain. He’s still a Jedi. And he’s an awesome, badass one.

And now, for what it tells us about Dooku!

It’s much shorter, don’t worry. Basically, Dooku considers that the best way to pick “the best of the best” of the deadliest people in the Galaxy is making them go through what killed his Padawan. There, I’ve broken your hearts, you’re welcome.

More seriously, Dooku is a manipulative ass. It’s pretty clear that he knows Rako is Obi-Wan, or at the very least suspects it.

He has an interesting reaction upon learning Rako’s identity, he keeps praising him despite his usual distaste for low-lifes, he smirks secretively after Eval says “I’ll show you who’s weak” (not included there because it’s a close-up of Dooku’s lips and no one wants to see that) and he tells Rako he’s very disappointed when he doesn’t finish off Eval.

[Later]

(Look at this smug asshole - I can’t. YOUR GRANDSON IS THE BEST, WE KNOW, STOP ACTIVELY RUINING HIS LIFE ALREADY.)

(Dooku... why...)

Now obviously Dooku couldn’t have made the Box specifically for Obi-Wan, because it would have to have been designed months before the Council ever decided to send Obi-Wan undercover, but he has no qualms trying to use it to push Obi-Wan to the Dark Side. Ffs Dooku, making your spiritual grandson relive one of the most traumatic events of his life on the off chance that he’ll join you (and desecrate his Master’s memory in doing so) is not okay!

Final tidbits of analysis: I mentioned that not all of TPM is mirrored in the Box. What’s omitted is the droids (even though Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon fight B1′s and droidekas between the dioxis and the ventilation shafts) and anything pertaining to Sidious (all the political stuff on Coruscant). You’ll also note that the fake lightsabers are orange.

=> The Box distances itself from anything that connects Dooku to Naboo. Red lightsabers are the trademark of the Sith, so they’re not used. The bounty hunters will be facing Jedi, so logically the fake sabers should be green or blue - and yet they’re orange, the color closest to red without being red. It fits with Dooku’s special brand of dishonesty - he always tells bits of the real story but twists them just enough to absolve himself of any fault and to justify his choices.

(”We can destroy the Sith” -> could maybe destroy Sidious with Obi-Wan, but fails to mention he’s a Sith Lord himself; “the Viceroy came to me for help, that’s why I’m attacking the Republic” -> political idealism is a small part of it, but fails to mention he’s Sidious’ underling and is playing the Viceroy like a fiddle; “Qui-Gon would have joined me” -> maybe, still fails to mention he’s working for the man who ordered Qui-Gon’s death; “I told you everything you needed to know” -> debatable, never said that Palps was Sidious; “Sifo-Dyas understood, that’s why he helped me” -> partly true, doesn’t admit to killing Sifo-Dyas right after getting his help)

So we have a twisted version of Naboo, droid-free (as droids are now irrevocably associated with Dooku, even if that wasn’t the case in TPM) and with sabers that aren’t quite red. Keep in mind that Dooku had already fallen by TPM. (We know this because he killed Sifo-Dyas and created the Clone Army - part of Sidious’ plan - when Valorum was still Chancellor, as per the episode The Lost One.) That means Dooku was (in)directly complicit in Qui-Gon’s death. And the Box doesn’t (=refuses to?) acknowledge that.

(Also omitted in the Box are the Gungans and Tatooine. It makes sense, because Dooku probably wouldn’t have the full details regarding those parts of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s missio as they weren’t as public, and would see them as irrelevant if he did. He utterly despises Anakin, and Gungans are the type of people he always dismisses out of hand).

Anyway, that’s my two cents about the Box. To quote Lucas...

“It’s like poetry. It rhymes.”

Thanks to @lethebantroubadour @impossiblybluebox @nonbinarywithaknife @ytoz and @kaitie85386 for voting for this one. Next up is a compilation of the Jedi being casually tactile with each other (because they’re a warm and affectionate culture, dammit).

Also thanks to @laciefuyu for giving me gifs I ended up not using ^^; you rock anyway!

#meta #my meta #the box #deception arc #rako hardeen #rako hardeen arc #naboo #obi-wan kenobi #count dooku #cad bane #moralo eval #darth sidious

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xiaophobic · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I love your writing and I’ve never requested something before so I hope this is fine, could I request for c, h, k and j for Scaramouche?

sfw alphabet | scaramouche

LETTERS - c, h, k, j !! • 200 event !!

➷ C - cuddles :

small angry fatui man does not approve of such intimacy on a day-to-day basis, so incredibly rarely will you ever be granted to relinquish in such prolonged closeness with him. ...however, everyone can become touch-starved after a taste of intimacy, and because of you, he knows of such deprivation very well (due to what he’d label as his own ineptitude).

the closest you’ll probably ever get to him initiating anything of the sort is him sitting a little bit closer to you, just inching his limbs closer to yours. he won’t protest if you happen to link hands or arms with him (as though it weren’t his entire plan) — this is his preferred closeness.

➷ H - hugs :

“so incompetent.” he sneers at your request, turning his back to you in distaste. “what has led you to believe i would ever even consider—” he’s cut off by your embrace from behind. his mind buffers for a second as he registers that he’s being held, and a dastardly heat rushes to his face. he turns, fully prepared to yank you off him until you tighten your arms, sighing contently into his aggravated form. to think that someone could find solace within such destruction...

“fine.” is all he says in response to your efforts, all other verbal remarks falling flat on his tongue. he’s so awkward with trying to return it, patting your head and your back as though you were someone other than his significant other. “i’ll learn, okay? now get off.” and he means it. he’ll learn, or he’ll do his best.

➷ K - kisses :

“what’s this?” he coos, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. his sardonic nature builds anticipation, and the tension rises with each bat of his eyelashes as he studies you. he leans in close, ghosting his mouth over yours with a quirk of his brow. he’s toying with you, his trim fingers making their mark on your face with how concrete his hold is. “i thought you wanted to kiss me, no?” he doesn’t give you the chance to seize your opportunity before he retreats, releasing your face with a firm squeeze beforehand.

the times you do kiss, he’s rough. his hand resides on the back of your neck, guiding you to him. you ponder whether it’s possessiveness or he simply knows no other method, though both answers hold a solution. if he listens to anyone, it’s you (with great reluctance). when you scold him, he scoffs, wiping his swollen lips and gazing away, his brows furrowed. “...right.” he huffs frustratedly, composing himself. love is too complicated. “.....sorry.”

➷ J - jealousy :

the absolute worst. he has no patience for any customs that interfere with what he values most, that being your relationship, so he’s not going to maintain a front like he would in other situations. “if you so much as cherish your feeble little life, you will remove yourself.”

“they were getting entirely too close! no — you — do not lecture me about my methods!” you two argue over his strategy for hours on end only to arrive at the same conclusion every time. “if i promise to think before i act so...“rashly” next time, can we move on from this idiotic exchange?” ...scaramouche does not keep his promise. in fact, scaramouche becomes increasingly more violent with every dullard that dares to try their hand at you. so, he’s entirely too jealous.

i wanted to write him soft but it just...wouldn’t be correct LMAO we all know he’s emotionally unavailable in all aspects (in all seriousness, this is lowkey toxic. please do not seek out relationships similar to this depiction.)

#atlas hits 200 !!#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin oneshot #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche genshin #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche genshin x reader #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader genshin impact

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Melted Mask

awitchbravestheverge prompt: I don't know if you're still taking prompts but you are a master of hurt/comfort and would sell you my soul for some of that for Janus. Maybe where he's feeling insecure or like he's worn out his welcome post acceptance, or maybe a little touch starved, or both. Preferably with Virgil or Patton as the comforter, but if not thats ok. I just have a never-ending need for fic where people are soft and gentle with the snake boy, and I love everything you write with my whole heart

Thanks for the request, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: DLAMPR, focus on anxceit and moceit, can be platonic or romantic you decide I don’t mind

Warnings: uhhh sympathetic deceit and remus

Word Count: 4804

“How many masks of your own face are you currently wearing?”

“At least four.”

Between the gloves, the cape, and the hat, there’s not an awful lot of Janus that is seen most of the time. Not that he particularly minds. There is a certain benefit that layers upon layers of clothing provides. One, they’re perfect for concealing his cane—the others always look so surprised when he summons it from nowhere. Two, he is Dark Side, thanks to Roman’s fantastic naming system. There is an aesthetic standard that must be met. What was he going to do, show up in some ratted old hoodie?

Three, well—there is an awful lot to look at. If the others are focused on the clasps at his throat, the shock of the yellow gloves, the logo hidden under the black fabric, they’re not looking at him.

If they were, they’d see his scales.

He is the only side with a visible animal trait, after all. The scales cover the left side of his face, down beneath his collar. He doesn’t mind the stares—come on, it’s so easy to catch them off guard, how could he?—but sometimes he does wonder if they’ll ever get used to it.

To him.

The scales are a reminder. That he’s different. That he’s not like them. He’s not like the others, he doesn’t look like Thomas, at least not to the extent that they do. Thomas doesn’t have golden scales along the side of his face. Thomas doesn’t have a mouth that curves up along his cheek. Thomas doesn’t have a slit-eye pupil. No, no, Thomas is normal.

How dreadful.

Then, of course, there are the lies.

‘Deceit.’ Such a funny word. And so…polarizing.

‘Deceitful,’ ‘dishonest,’ ‘dastardly’—lot of ‘d’s, here, hmm?—all of the words that just mean he’s a liar. And lying must be bad, right? So it follows logically then, because we simply adore logic in this house, that he must be bad.

He’s not to be trusted, he’s a liar. He’s not honest, he’s a liar. They have to double and triple-check everything he says because he’s a liar.

They always conveniently seem to forget that you can always trust a dishonest person to be dishonest. It’s the truthful ones you have to watch out for.

Janus knows he’s a liar. Frankly, he’s quite proud of it. He’s gotten very good at it too; twisting the words together just right in order to tug slightly at a heartstring there, block off just a little rationality there, get the job done. The others always get caught up in his words, too busy focusing on the minutia of it, the details, leaving him free to step around them and speak to Thomas.

They see the gloves, they see the scales, they see the lies.

They see the masks.

Oh, sometimes he’ll put on a little bit more of a show if he needs to make a point, if the normal masks aren’t quite enough to get Thomas to listen. He’ll tie a hoodie around his shoulders, push a pair of glasses up his nose, knot a tie around his neck. Problem is…those ones are a little easier to see through. No matter how hard he tries, all of his disguises end up being a self-portrait.

Which is how he ended up here.

“You know the rules,” Patton says, his hands on his hips, “no impersonating others outside of filming!”

Janus rolls his eyes and idly flicks a speck of dirt off one of his gloves. “Oh, please. You don’t want me to do it during filming either.”

“No, I don’t, but we made a compromise, kiddo, now we both have to stick to it.”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure the others will be relieved to hear so.”

“What have we said about impersonations?”

He sighs. “The others may be idiots—“

“Oi!”

“—but idiots are also deserving of respect,” Janus finishes, glancing at Virgil draped over the back of the couch. “And I would never dream of being anything less than perfectly respectful.”

Virgil snorts. “What do you even get out of it anyway?” He sits up a little straighter. “Wait, you haven’t been tricking Roman into telling you how to impersonate us better, have you?”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Janus!”

“What? Like you don’t make a habit of going to the others for advice.”

“There’s a difference between openly asking for it and tricking them into giving it to you.”

Janus levels a stare at him. “I suppose there is, isn’t there?”

“Hey!” Patton steps between them. “That’s enough.”

“Oh, well—“ Janus makes a show of resettling his cape—“if you say so.”

Patton sighs. “Janus, we are trying, okay? You heard Thomas, you’re…well, you’re more welcome now.”

“And you’re doing a marvelous job of that.”

Patton doesn’t quite deflate, but it’s close. “Well, maybe we could all try a little harder.” He gives Janus a pointed look.

“Yes, I’m sure my efforts will be richly rewarded.”

“Well, you could start by showing up as yourself more often.”

“Myself?” Janus gasps theatrically, putting a gloved hand to his scales. “Who’s that?”

“Dude,” Virgil sniggers—Virgil did always appreciate his sense of humor—“how many masks of your own face are you currently wearing”

“At least four.”

Patton lets him go with another verbal slap on the wrist and Virgil flips him off. Janus sinks out, striding down the hallway near his room. It’s quieter here. The walls hum a little less. He can think.

He hadn’t gone to Roman to gets tips on his acting. He’d gone because Roman doesn’t want to talk to Janus.

Janus, the liar. Janus, the manipulator. Janus, the Dark Side.

Janus shuts the door of his room and instinctively slumps, the cape hanging off his shoulders. He knows Patton means well, and Virgil’s…Virgil, but sometimes it stings a little more than it should. Not that the others will ever see it.

He’ll never forget the look on Thomas’s face when Logan said he was the side that acts with the one priority of self-preservation. Of how it instantly demonized the idea of protecting yourself. Of Thomas keeping himself safe.

He looks at his hands, sees the gloves. They still don’t fit quite right, even after all these years. He can’t get the seams to run down the sides of the fingers, not curve around to the front or the back. It really shouldn’t be this difficult. Especially considering how much use he’s gotten out of them.

Lying kept Thomas alive. It kept him safe. He helped keep Thomas safe. When Virgil couldn’t breathe, when Logan faltered, when Patton froze, Janus would quietly make his way over to Roman and whisper a suggestion. Just a suggestion. To lie. To keep Thomas safe. To get them out of here. And it saved them. So many times.

Janus walks over to the mirror. It’s a fairly modest thing; about the size of a small sink, oval, large enough so he can see himself completely if he takes a few steps back. He ignores his own face and reaches for the golden latch on the side. He turns it.

The cabinet swings open to reveal a dark velvet interior with several small podiums. Each has a thin mask laid atop it. They gleam in the low light of the room. Janus reaches out and carefully makes sure each is perfectly centered. As he does so, his gloves linger on the fine print beneath the podiums.

Everyone has masks. Versions of themselves to present to the world when they need to. A mask that keeps you safe, a mask that keeps you alive, a mask that has the courage to speak when you don’t. The mask they wear around their homophobic relatives, the mask they wear when they need to make a phone call, the mask they wear when they need to pretend they’re something they’re not.

Janus is very, very good at making masks.

He never wears these. These are for Thomas. When Thomas needs help, Janus slips one of these out of the cabinet and sets it on the desk in front of the mirror. He looks at it, then at the mirror, and works. These masks are what helps Thomas.

He shuts the cabinet with a decisive click, suddenly confronted with his own face.

Janus is so good at making masks that he doesn’t even need a mask to wear one.

A mask because you’re the bad guy. A mask because you can never be trusted. A mask because when you try to be vulnerable they won’t listen. A mask because they don’t want you, they want the character that you embody to survive.

He pities the others sometimes. They don’t have these masks and they hurt. They can’t distance themselves, pull away just a little more, embody a role so that when it’s over, when they’re safe again, they can take it off and breathe. But they don’t. So they just get hurt. Over and over and over.

Janus’s lips involuntarily curl up into a snarl. The hand on the mirror closes into a fist.

They’re not supposed to get hurt. That’s not how this is supposed to work.

He’s not supposed to hurt them.

Part of him argues that he has to. If he keeps working the way he’s been working he can get right to Thomas, who is who needs the most protection. If he tries to do it their way they risk Thomas getting hurt and Janus won’t have that.

Part of him whispers that this is good for them. If he can make them a little tougher, help them get thicker skin, they’ll be safer. And then it won’t matter if they hate him. They’ll be safe. That’s all he cares about.

The rest of him—

…well, the rest of him is currently the reason he’s having trouble looking in the mirror right now.

The problem with wearing so many masks is that it becomes harder and harder to figure what’s the mask and what’s not. And he’s gotten so good at making them that now…now he doesn’t have to think about it.

A mask for when Logan asks to debate about philosophy. A mask for when Remus wants him to help him and Roman make something new. A mask for when Patton wants to bake. A mask for when Virgil comes to him for help.

A mask for all of them. A mask for none of them.

Janus doesn’t want to wear the masks all the time. He wants them to be warm, to care, to smile when he comes into the room, or even ask where he is. He wants to laugh as Patton smears batter all over his nose accidentally. He wants to listen to Logan ramble about some new advancement in quantum gravity. He wants Virgil to come plop down next to him while everyone else is in the living room. He wants Remus to stay with him while they watch the others get into ridiculous fights over board games. He wants Roman to not be afraid to come talk to him.

He wants.

Janus is selfish.

But he isn’t stupid.

He knows they don’t want him. He knows they don’t want him, even without the masks. Deep down, he knows they don’t need him either.

But Thomas does.

So here Janus will stay, in the dark, in the cold, wearing too many masks of his own face to keep count.

—————————————————————

The Mindscape is cold. It never quite feels solid. Drafts blow in and out of the walls, through the little gaps in the floor, from places that Janus can’t find, no matter how many times he looks for them. He bundles himself up in his cloak and his hat and does his best to hold still, sink in as much warmth as he can. He sneaks up behind the others, pressing himself up near them, purring in their ears, just to snatch their body heat. They always shove him away with flustered protests and blushy little faces. They’re so adorable.

Plus, he knows that’s all he’s ever really going to get from them.

But he’s cold, goddamnit. Why do they keep the air conditioning so high in this house? Snakes are cold-blooded. They get slow. Lethargic. Hypothermic, if it gets very bad.

Janus can’t afford to be slow.

So he wears his gloves, his cape, his hat. He stands opposite the window so he can get the most sunlight. He finds the patches of warmth where none of the others will find him and he can curl up for the warmth he needs...

…and fine, maybe it’s a little more than just being cold.

The others are…touchy. Patton throws his arm around just about everyone. Bumps his hip against theirs. Pats their shoulders, squeezes their hands, kisses their cheeks. Roman sweeps people into his arms, pulls them in for hugs, keeps an arm around their waists for as long as he’s allowed. Remus can and will just tackle whoever he wants. Logan holds himself a little further away, but even he’ll lay a comforting hand on someone’s arm. Janus will admit he was shocked when Virgil started exhibiting spider characteristics. That Side is a cat and you will not convince him otherwise. And everyone knows if a cat falls asleep on you, you’re not allowed to move until it wakes up.

Not that Virgil has fallen asleep on him recently.

Janus is not too proud to admit that at first, he didn’t want their touches. He had a job to do, he didn’t need to be distracted. But now…now he does.

He sees the way they move around each other and it stings. The accidental brushes he gets from standing too close or when they aren’t thinking about it sear through layers and layers of clothing to burn into his skin. When he stays close to them—close, but not too close—his whole side begins to tingle, reaching for them, their warmth, for them. But now it’s too late. His mask is already firmly in place and they know Deceit hates being touched.

That’s another reason for the layers. For the gloves.

Janus knows that if they ever touch him directly, skin to skin, his mask will shatter. And that is too dangerous to risk. With his gloves, his cape, his hat, his masks, the only way that would happen is if one of them tried to touch his face.

And that is certainly very likely indeed.

The clothes give him a barrier. A last line of defense. No touch is better than unexpected touch.

But that doesn’t stop him from being cold.

He can tell it’s going to happen when he can’t quite close his fingers around the end of his staff in the middle of their conversation. His gloves don’t catch on the wood quite right and he has to fumble to grab it properly. He glances up. No one’s looking at him.

Are they ever?

He tucks his hands smoothly out of sight, frantically burrowing them into his cloak to see if they’ll warm up. He locks his knees. No good. His fingers start to hurt as he flexes them. They’re still not moving faster. It’s cold.

He glances at the clock. Two minutes. He can last two minutes. Or so he thinks, until his jaw starts to clench. He clenches it harder, ignoring the protest from his neck, his shoulders, trying to make it stop. He takes a deep slow breath and tries to relax, to stop his muscles from tensing. It works, barely.

One minute.

His hands aren’t responding properly. He can barely move his fingers. He just needs to get out of here. If he gets out of here he can get warm. He has his electric blanket, he has everything he needs. He just needs to leave.

Thirty seconds.

The conversation draws to a close and Janus nods deeply, tossing one last barb over his shoulder as he sinks out, only to collapse in the hallway as soon as he does. A draft flows out right next to his shoulder, freezing fingers dancing up his arm, along the back of his neck, diving into his collar to snatch more of his warmth. He curses, heaves himself to his feet, and makes it to his room. It’s so cold.

Something tugs in his chest. No, no—!

“I suppose there must be a good reason for summoning me back,” Janus drawls, snapping his gloves right back into place as he appears in the living room.

Patton and Virgil stare back at him. Patton fidgets with his hands. “W-well, we, uh, I had a question for you.”

Damn. “Well.” Janus spreads his arms, trying to play off how slow he’s moving for dramatic effect. “I’m here. Ask away.”

“I, uh, a few days ago you mentioned that you didn’t feel as welcome here.” Patton looks at him with such an expression of sincerity that it makes Janus’s tongue itch. “And I wanted to know what I could do to help.”

“Aren’t you sweet?”

Patton won’t be deterred, it seems. He stares at Janus, resolute as ever. It’s so cold in here he’s going to start slurring in a moment.

“Janus?”

“That is my name, yes.”

“Are you…are you feeling alright?”

Janus gestures to himself, movements growing slower by the second. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Slow. Too slow.

Patton frowns. He gives him a look. “You don’t seem like you normally are, are you sure?”

“I am entirely in one piece.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Honey, if you’re looking for a straight answer, I’m afraid you’re looking in the wrong place.”

Virgil moves. Right, Virgil was here too. Janus is slow. Too slow. He can’t move. He can’t get away. His mask forms a bored expression on his face, quirking an eyebrow. Virgil approaches him and holds out a hand. A cold part of Janus’s chest leaps.

The lips of the mask part. “And what exactly do you intend to do with that?”

“This,” Virgil mutters, and cups the side of Janus’s face.

Everything stops.

Distantly, he feels Virgil’s hand leave his face. Hears something about being too cold. Sees a blur of blue rush away. But all he can focus on is—

Warm. Virgil touched you. Warm. Warm. So warm. Keep the mask on. Don’t let the mask slip. Warm. If the mask slips everything will be ruined. Warm. Don’t you remember how to take the mask off? Virgil. Patton. Warm.

“Janus? Janus!”

Janus blinks. Virgil is still standing in front of him. There’s a little wrinkle between his brows. The mask is frozen in place, iced into a neutral expression.

“Hey,” Virgil says quietly, “you’re freezing, bud. You gotta get warm.”

Janus can’t speak. The mask is so cold.

“You remember what happens when you get too cold,” Virgil continues, taking a step closer. Janus can’t move. Virgil’s frown deepens and he tilts his head. “What’s going on, Janus, you don’t normally let it get this bad.”

Yes, Virgil, we’re aware.

“You could’ve asked, dude,” Virgil says, taking another step closer, a little exasperation mingling with the concern, “any of us.”

The mask smirks. Barely. “Yes, because I’m sure everyone would be so willing to cuddle me so I could steal their body heat.”

“You don’t know that.” The mask doesn’t move. Virgil glances over his shoulder. When he speaks next, his voice is lowered to a whisper.

“You don’t have to keep that on right now, Jan,” he says quietly, “it’s okay. It’s just me. I know you. You can…you know. Emote and stuff.”

Janus huffs a laugh. It’s weak.

“You ever wear a mask so long you forget how to take it off?”

Vigil pauses. “Huh?”

“Ever pretended to be something for so long you forget which is real and which isn’t?” Janus’s smile turns sad. “Made yourself believe it too?”

Virgil’s eyes close for a second. When he opens them, the concern in his gaze takes the last of the warm breath from Janus’s lungs. “Does this have anything to do with…?” He waves in Janus’s direction.

Janus nods, slowly, so slowly. “I can’t. Because I’ve been…I’ve been trained out of it. I built my masks to hide behind. And now I can’t take them off.”

“And we haven’t been good about helping you do that, huh.” He sounds so tired. He’s been through so much…

“I’m…”

The mask won’t let him apologize.

Like they would ever accept it.

“No, no,” Virgil says, “don’t apologize. You aren’t to blame for what you’ve been put through.”

Oh, Virgil…

Virgil glances over his shoulder. Then he shakes his head. “Just…look, go.”

“What?”

“I know this isn’t the time to talk about stuff. You’re not in any sort of shape to do that and Patton will understand. Go get warm.” He gives Janus a pointed look. “You take care of yourself first, okay?”

He tries. He goes back to his room and buries himself in blankets, in pillows, in more layers than he can stand. The pressure is good but it’s still so cold. The weight of the electric blanket is nothing compared to the warmth of Virgil’s hand. Everything in here smells sterile, clinical, detached. It’s all so cold.

You take care of yourself.

The last sentence rings through his head late at night. He wants. But everyone’s probably asleep by now, and god knows they need to sleep. Surely it’ll be alright if he just goes to the living room? That’s not too far, right?

There’s a fire going in the fireplace—since when did they have a fireplace? And there’s someone sitting on the couch. Hmm. Maybe if…if he’s quiet, if he doesn’t make too much noise, he can slip in and soak up some of the warmth.

Virgil turns around.

“Hey, Janus,” he murmurs, standing, and comes over to him. “Can’t sleep?”

Janus shakes his head. It’s warm in here, but he’s still cold. Virgil can see that, apparently.

“Here,” he says, handing him a cup of tea that appeared out of thin air, “drink. It’ll warm you up.”

Janus takes it cautiously. Isn’t it Virgil’s? There’s no way Virgil would’ve know Janus was coming…right?

“This is my third one, figure I should let you catch up first.”

He gestures to the couch, an encouraging smile on his lips.

“Sit. C’mon”

Janus does, sinking into the plush couch and cradling the warm mug in his hands. The couch groans as Virgil sits next to him. He can feel Virgil just out of reach, just there…

“I like watching the fire,” comes a low voice from next to him as he sips the tea. “Helps me think. Or stop thinking.”

He keeps talking in that low voice and the warm tea flows through Janus, sapping the cold slowly away from his body.

Distantly, he feels someone steering him down onto the couch, and heavy arms around him.

“Or maybe you just need a cuddle. Go to sleep, Janus.”

—————————————————————

“ — stop twitching, Remus! You’ll make a mistake!”

“Stop tugging his arm all over the place and then you won’t.”

“Will you two pipe the fuck down? You’re gonna wake him up.”

“Says the loudmouth!”

“Roman, stop it.”

“Stop moving his arm!”

What is…? He’s lying on something. It’s warm, really warm. It smells like…coffee, makeup, and…cinnamon? He shifts slightly, and oh he slept on his neck wrong. A low groan escapes his throat.

His pillow stiffens. “Shit. He’s awake.”

“Good going, Remus.”

“You were the one yelling!”

“Shut the fuck up, both of you.” The chest underneath him vibrates. “Shh, snake-face, go back to sleep. You’re alright. Go back to sleep.”

Janus shifts again, trying to look around, but he’s held down by another strong arm. A hand cards itself through his hair—where’s his hat? “Shh, be still, buddy, you’re okay. Can’t we get you back to sleep?”

“What…’s going on?” His tongue feels heavy, swelling up in his mouth.

“I believe the chances of getting him back to sleep will increase if you tell him what you’re doing.”

It’s…Logan? He appears, fuzzy but definitely there, over the back of the couch. Janus tries to turn to make it easier to see him but his right arm is pinned and he can’t move—

“Easy, J, easy, shh, shh, you’re okay, you’re safe, just keep your arm nice and still, okay?” Virgil, it’s Virgil he’s lying on, runs his hand through his hair again. “I’m pretty sure Roman would pitch a fit.”

“Hah.” Roman snorts from somewhere close to the ground. “If this got ruined, yours would be too.”

“If you hadn’t insisted on going last,” Remus says, “this wouldn’t’ve been an issue.”

And then he feels it. Something is drawn sharply across his right wrist.

“Shh, shh, Janus, breathe, breathe, you’re okay, damnit, Princey, stop! You’re making him freak out!”

It’s gone, the contact is gone. His arm is still hanging over the edge of the couch but it’s held there by Virgil’s arm and another hand.

“Hey there, Snakey.” Remus appears over Virgil’s shoulder. “You’re okay. We’re just making sure you’re okay.”

Roman snorts. “There’s something wrong with how you phrased that.”

Then suddenly Patton appears out of nowhere and doesn’t surprise him at all. Luckily, or unluckily, Janus is far too exhausted and disoriented to react more than rucking up the fabric of Virgil’s hoodie a little. Patton looks at the couch.

“There isn’t room, Pop-star,” Virgil says, lazily stretching so his bulk takes up all of it, moving slow enough so Janus isn’t jostled too much. Then Virgil yelps and their lower bodies are lifted and he can feel the couch sag under another body.

“What the hell, Pat.”

“Now there’s room.” Patton reaches up and ruffles Virgil’s hair.

There are so many people and it’s warm but why are they all here? Did he miss something? Does he need to leave?

“Looks good,” Patton says, interrupting his train of thought, “it’s coming along well.”

Logan clears his throat. “Would someone like to inform Janus about what exactly ‘this’ is?”

“Oh, right, sorry, Snakey,” Remus says, crouching back down, “let’s show you.”

Virgil turns over slowly, lifting his arm and using the leverage to shift Janus onto his chest. “Jeez, Janus, you’re light. Patton, have we been feeding him enough?”

“I suspect there’s been a lack of communication, kiddo.”

“Now is not the time to yell at him, Patton,” Logan says quietly.

“I’m not yelling! But yes, now is not the time.”

Virgil coaxes his head to one side, and Roman lifts his arm by the back of his hand.

Janus’s mouth drops open.

There are little animals drawn on his right arm, from his wrist to his elbow. There’s a navy cat, simple and clean, near the vein. A light blue frog with little glasses. A purple and black spider. A green octopus with large black tentacles. And an unfinished red dragon right near his wrist.

“If I could finish,” Roman asks softly.

“Alright, calm down, here.” Remus lowers his arm and holds it steady. Roman puts the brush back to his arm and starts painting again. Virgil and Remus start arguing about something, probably, but he can’t focus on anything besides the soft bristles of the brush on his arm, the rumble of Virgil’s chest, and the warmth of the weight on his legs.

Logan stands behind his head. “You don’t need to wear a mask here, Janus,” he says softly, “not unless you want to.”

No one else hears him except for Patton. He gives Janus’s leg a squeeze.

It’s warm. It’s so warm.

He wants to watch as Roman paints the dragon but he’s tired but he doesn’t want to sleep yet…not just yet.

Patton reaches towards his face. His finger lands on his forehead and drags gently down the bridge of his nose.

What…?

Oh.

As he follows his touch, Janus’s eyes drift closed.

It’s so warm.

And a warm hand on his cheek wipes the last of the mask away.

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pinkmirth · 4 years ago

Text

—𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝗼𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 [𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞]

《𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 + 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝》

Boxes splayed across the bare, sheen hardwood of your newly owned apartment, some contents of them being haphazardly tossed out onto the floor, courtesy of Katsuki. Speaking of, the eager ash blonde had been taking this whole unpacking thing with a ravaging approach, a little more aggression than enthusiasm being displayed. This disregarding husband of yours had already broken two vases since the moving van hauled in your belongings..

You caught wind of his incoherent murmurs throughout the day, which were practically countless by now. You’d been racking your brain since, attempting to discover what had gotten your poor Katsuki so upset. Despite the marriage that bonded you and him, Katsuki’s profession usually got in the way of many personal things. For a while, it’d been a danger just for the pair of you to live together, so you haven’t been. Until now. It had been three days since you and him moved from the comfort of your hometown, Musutafu, to the renowned capital, Tokyo, and you wished you could say it had been smooth sailing. Unfortunately, a certain Bakugou wasn’t having the best time, always sputtering a profanity or a groan left and right. His case of the grumps was probably a trip of his complex emotions, either caused by a sense of neediness, deprivation of some sort, or bottled rage. You were betting, practically hoping on the first two instead. Knowing your husband, it meant well that he’d get his hands on miscellaneous household items to crush, smash and break, as some way of channeling his anger episodes. Three days down the line, and you already needed to replace a handful.. Though, it was currently dinner time, and you were sure that was a good thing. Katsuki’s little funk would wash away come 6pm. Cooking had a way of melting away the male’s heaps of stress, especially when you offered to join in. Throughout that hour of making food and serving you his prideful dishes, he always carried a subtle smile. Dinner wasn’t something to worry about. “Fuckin’ hell!” Scratch that. Telling by the pestering clatter of the cabinets he was yanking open, to the dastardly echo of his stomps, it seemed that you couldn’t rely on the succor of food for any longer. “I oughta’ set this lousy kitchen on fucking fire!” You let out a hefty sigh, picking yourself up from the spacious beanbag, since you were yet to assemble any couches, before strolling over to the kitchen, awaiting to see the reason behind your husband’s exaggerated shrieking. “Katsu-Chan, what's the issue..?” Your husband immediately bombarded you with a growled rant, “I can’t find my shitty apron!” You eyed Katsuki through furrowed brows. Is all this attitude really about one measly apron? Nah, I doubt it, your inner voice chimed. “And there ain’t any more pepper seasoning, so I haven’t got a clue what I’ll cook now..” he spewed through gritted teeth, recklessly tossing away the poor frying pan that he’d been holding onto all the while, impressive dents imprinted onto the handle, curved into the shape of his fingers. In that case, you had one more household item to replace. Noted.. “I can’t find that damned thing,” he spoke with an exasperated huff, his hands flying up to the cupboards, motioning them open and closed with the slightest violent tendency. “Hate to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but we ain’t eating dinner tonight,” you scoffed over Katsuki’s recurring dramatics, “These past few days have been shitty anyway..” He’d said it throughout a lowly mutter, but it was enough to cause a nervous stream to rush through you. Did he not like it here? Perhaps the city was too busy for Dynamight, maybe he wasn’t immune to getting homesickness as he liked to brag about, or it couldve been that he just wasn’t ready to get used to such a foreign occurrence in your relationship— living together. But, of course, considering your nature to bat things off with a joke of some sort, you contorted your worries into a comical stick to jab at your husband with.

“Darling, if you’re on your man-period, you should’ve just said so..” you’d said it with fabricated pity, all the while holding back your chuckles as his brows began to furrow, upper lip curving vexingly.

“You think you’re so damn funny, dontcha’, woman..?”

“Yeah, just a little bit.”

Another rasped groan left the lips of the ever-impatient Bakugou Katsuki, “Oi. Are ya’ just gonna keep giggling on about my little anger episode forever?”

Hm. For once, he actually acknowledged it for what it is, you thought briefly, before making your way around the glossy, marble-design kitchen island, your hands finding solace on his defined, muscular triceps.

The thick straps of his black, square neck tank top gradually began to slide past his shoulders, shadowing over his collarbone before you inched it back up.

“Do you.. like it here, Katsuki?” By the moment he answered your answer with an aggressive snort, you realized you had nothing to worry about.

“Why the hell wouldn't I? We didn’t pay for this house just to hate the place,” he scoffed, his large palms skimming over the small of your back before thick fingers of his wrapped around your waist.

“That’s a relief, but you’ve been acting a little grumpy— Like something’s bothering you. Could you just tell me how you’re feeling?” You finally admitted your questioning thoughts with an expectant look, watching Katsuki return your curiosity with a subtle smirk. “You wanna know what’s bothering me..?”

“Y’know what, never mind. Don’t wanna hear it, Katsu-Chan.”

Your abrupt response had him knitting his brows and emitting confused huffs. “So you’re just gonna change your mind on me like that?!” You jabbed at his chest with your pointer finger to punctuate your reply, “because you made it sound creepy, that’s why!”

Katsuki then tightened his grip around your waist, earning a breathy gasp out of you. Before you could question the blonde, he already had you hauled up into the kitchen island, standing between your dangling legs with the tip of his nose grazing yours. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh at the comforting warmth of his sizey hands, your arms instinctively flinging around the back of his neck.

“Alright, I’ll tell you the truth, hon,” confessed Katsuki, “The move has been great, but horrible. It all went good, I guess. No missing items, moving trucks arriving in record time, everything we wanted. But there’s one more thing that we wanted that you seemed to forget about, you lil’ idiot..”

Despite the use of an insult, his cheeks and ears began the bloom a subtle but pretty pink, his sharp red eyes averting from your own blinking ones.

“Care to inform me on whatever I forgot..?” You skimmed through my your memory frantically in those few seconds that he’d paused, trying to dig up a pleasing answer before he told you himself.

“Privacy, [Y/N].. We’d have so much, too much once we moved to our own place. And we loved the sound of that. Y‘know why, right..?”

Your heart suddenly leapt within your chest at his indication, his left brow rising suggestively as he briefly cocked his head. You definitely knew why.

“So we could have times like this. Without any damned interruptions. I can suck your face off without one of my shitty friends popping up unexpectedly, ain’t that swell?” His voice held the slightest bit of laughter in it, his tone comical and yearning.

“So.. if I said that I wanna feel you close to me..” you murmured, your breath fanning over his proximate lips, “Like, really really close, it wouldn’t be a problem, yes?” A teasing, lingering peck was what you placed across his cheek, earning a genuine grin from Katsuki as a response.

“Who the hell’s gonna stop you? In fact, I’ve got my own idea,” his lowly voice came out booming nonetheless, but of course, the benefit of privacy made sure that his volume wasn’t a problem.

“I wanna watch you. While you watch me.” He didn’t have to be lewdly exact with his words, the lust-blown gaze in your husband’s vermillion eyes was enough to tell what he wanted. It was simple enough as he’d said; Mutual masturbation, just a few minutes before dinner time would commence.

Albeit the serene atmosphere, you couldn’t hold back your snicker over your realization. Bakugou Katsuki, your impatient lover. The poor guy had been in such a distasteful mood, only because of his unnerving libido..

“You wanna watch me take off my panties, huh?” Your teasing statement came out as a suggestive giggle, your hand placed sturdily at the nape of his neck while the unoccupied one got to work on making his fantasies a reality, tugging at the hem of your leggings hastily.

“You’ve gotta watch me too, y’know,” Katsuki reminded you with a gravelly chuckle, shimmying and pulling his bottoms off as though there were no time to spare.

His half naked form had attracted you in an instant, eyes drawing to his thick cock, semi-hard and already being encased into his moving palm.

“Don't just stare. It works both ways, sweet cheeks. I wanna see some fingers moving’ already,” Puffs of breath were taken between his words, ruby red eyes already lidded with an agape mouth that poured out the most arousing groans.

“Nah, I think I’ll just enjoy the show for now,” you decided matter-of-factly, pressing a sloppy kiss along his defined jawline, causing him to emit another grunt, lowly slapping sounds being heard from his vulgar ministrations.

“You think you’re cute, huh..” hissed Bakugou, trudging his clothes back on with a grunt, to your dismay. “Forget it. Instead of putting on a show for a brat like you, I’m gonna go straight to dinner.”

You accepted the fate that your actions resulted in, ready to slide off the island, just before his stern hands stopped you. He gave you this glance, one that made you eye him in suspicion as he kept his hands on each of your thighs, spreading them apart with a lax grin.

“Katsu— Ah!” By now, the blonde had already dropped to his knees, now face level with your clothed heat. “W-what about dinner..?!”

“Whaddya’ mean?” His tone came out rasped and attractive, a growing smirk reaching his lips as his fingers prodded at the band of your bottoms, “This is my dinner, babe..”

#bnha thirst #mha thirst #bakugou imagines #bnha Imagines #Katsuki Bakugou imagines #Bakugou x reader #Bakugou x female reader #bnha insert #mha insert #Bakugou smut #bnha smut #harmoni writes

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talesgolden · 2 years ago

Note

☘ : My muse’s relation with their family. (If they speak with each other and how much, if they are close or estranged, e.t.c.). for ag :)

(Symbol-based Headcanons)

Oh, oh boy. Listen so this is the way it seems to me, right now, but it’s subject to change because there’s a lot of people involved ok? But [cracks knuckles] here we go

Agnieszka considers all of the Chernabog shards/vessels/whatever you want to call them her siblings. They are coarse, they are dark, they are different, and they are hers. Her family. Even when they are unkind to her, even when she is unkind to them. Even when they are fighting and clawing and biting and ripping at each other, that is her den of devils, and she would defend and rescue and protect all of them. Any one of them. Mostly they are stronger than her and don’t really need help or protection, but that’s ok too.

She has a more benign personality than several of the others, but nevertheless keeps a very us-and-them view of the world which... in all honesty, is fair, really. She’s not a human or even mortal. Any other person she could potentially become close with is far more vulnerable, far less understanding, and distinctly going to die, someday. Her siblings are strong, know her nearly better than she understands what she is herself, and will live alongside her evermore, until the skies go black and maybe even longer. They don’t rightly know, yet. She is really quite neutral towards outsiders, but her family, her siblings, are everything. There is no one closer, and it’s unlikely that will change. Even if she were to fall out with any of them, her siblings would still vastly outweigh anything else you put before her. She loves them, through all. The world she could take or leave, really, as long as she could keep her siblings.

While they’re all roughly of similar ages (as in all within five years of each other, as they were all created in the same span of threat) she has a distinct role in the overall dynamic of being a younger sister to everyone except Flea. This means, like most younger sisters, she is generally a bit coddled by most of the others, and simultaneously their biggest bother. She is more manipulative than outside eyes tend to see, and sometimes it works and sometimes it just annoys the others. Resident master-pouter: she has puppy dog eyes and she’s not afraid to shamelessly employ them to get her way! And she is something of a pester-er, with many questions and a habit of trailing along behind one of the others in the hopes of being included. She is dear, she is dastardly. No doubt there are times she annoys the others to high heaven, but when things get serious and she calls for help, they are swift to her side and protective to homicidal degrees. They can bully her, you absolutely cannot.

uhhhhh for the next part I’ve done some plotting with the others for dynamics between siblings, but also I’m just going to assert some of this by the seat of my pants/the vibes of what I think the dynamics are probably like. So they’re subject to a little change, when/if we get more into talking about it, but--- more specific sibling-by-sibling info under the cut:

Hella: The most distant dynamic, Helvetica is quite independent and, further, quite different from safety-seeking Agnieszka. They don’t spend very much time with each other at all. Nevertheless, big sister hung the very stars in the sky and can do no wrong. Every now and then Ag will go into phases of trying to emulate her chaotic eldest sibling. It generally doesn’t end well for anyone involved.

Kon: Oldest brother, meanest brother. For his half, Konstantin carries a largely apathetic attitude everywhere he goes. He bullies his siblings as indiscriminately as anyone else he’s ever encountered, and Ag is no exception to this. She frequently tries to appeal to him despite being repeatedly and often harshly shut down. Sometimes she bites back, but mostly it just makes her sad that he claims to want distance— she thinks he’s bluffing, because she thinks he doesn’t want at all. She thinks she can fix that.. somehow. She’s got time to figure it out, and in the meantime she’ll keep making puppy eyes.

Freyja: Classic big sister/little sister dynamic, taller-little-sister syndrome included, with a spin of being strangers to each other for many of their early years. Freyja is so smart! and strong! and knows everything about everything!! Ag wants to learn from her, and frequently asks questions, repeats the the answers, and generally takes Freyja’s word as the definitive truth of everything. They’re aren’t super close, as yet, but Ag wants very badly for them to be. (So much so it might be the main obstacle to them actually being close. It’s hard to build on something idealized.)

Gonzo: Perhaps the most human-minded of the siblings, Zo is very bound to his mortal shape and the lives of many humans, and for that he Jagna don’t have much in common. He is also, though, fun! and good about being straightforward and clear with her, if somewhat blunt in a way that can hurt her feelings sometimes. He frequently intervenes when Kon is being particularly nasty, and is also likely to try to cheer her up when she’s feeling low. They aren’t necessarily tight-knit, but definitely good with each other. Ag will bite you for messing with Zo (you will not like it.)

Yana & Alexei: The twins, terse and tangled, are the siblings Kat & Ag have known the longest and leaned on the most. Yana & Alexei are the ones who discovered what was going on inside the church’s orphanage. They freed Katja & Jagna from their childhood of torment. The four of them spent some time as a unit, during which Kat & Ag gained their names and a new understanding of who -what- they even were to have been targeted as they were by the lord judge who held them captive. There is also a sense of understanding the four of them have, as each pair knows something of what the other feels and experiences as bonded duos. Two sets of twos, in slightly different fonts. Voted most likely to huddle together and hiss secrets in each others’ ears. Though, as I said, it seems broadly true the others are defensive of Ag, Yana & Alexei (& Kat) in particular will absolutely end you in a myriad of creative and very painful ways if you so much as think of hurting or harassing Agnieszka.

Katja: Jagna’s other half in a very literal sense. Too much to go into, and yet as simple as that. Though they have split and spread since the time they were one and the same, they remain deeply entrenched in each other, and although all of her siblings are dear, the honest truth of it all is that Katja is on another level. When Jagna wonders if she would survive the loss of her sister, it is not a metaphorical question. Could she exist without Kat? Well. No one will ever know, because no one will ever hurt Kat. Jagna is sworn to it. It’s what she was born for.

Valeria: Most likely owing to their proximity in age, griping and snarling and squabbling are the best words to apply to the relationship between Valeria and Ag (and by extension, Kat— or perhaps, it’s Val and Kat who have problems, and Ag who gets towed into it.... it’s hard to tell.) It is, mostly, affection in an antagonism hat, a vitriolic sort of normal that simply defines them to each other. That’s Val, she’s stinky. Sometimes, though, it escalates into them genuinely trying to wound each other, both emotionally and physically. Regardless, whatever stage of snippish, they’ll happily turn on a third party in tandem, to rip them to shreds should they think they have any right to antagonize one or the other, or even just stick their nose into it. Afterwards, they’ll go happily right back to criticizing each other.

Flea: Baby brother, beloved. Outside of Kat, he’s the sibling Ag feels the most close to. Both of them are somewhat less bound to their mortal bodies than the others seem to be, more at home in stranger, wilder forms. They spend a lot of time together, away from the lives and world and worries of humans. They see less of themselves in people, more from their siblings. From each other. Flea is the only sibling (Kat included!) Ag has never once argued with. They are all of them monstrous one way or another, but Ag and Flea seem the most inclined toward the inhumanity of it. Though they rarely acknowledge it in words, they hold common ground in that they seem to be formed from the Chernabog’s basest parts: the Shadow and the Beast; the darkness and the hunger.

#❖║headcanon / agnieszka.#oh yeah that's a fun fact for anyone who didn't know: all of the siblings have players none of them are npcs #we built a lil monster family owo #so these are my Takes from some building but may shift around or change entirely tbh it's just how the vibes feel currently

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triviareads · 2 years ago

Text

Releases on March 28th

Summary:

Lady Gertrude is a pillar of the ton and stuck in an unhappy marriage. She wants to give her debutante daughter Delia more freedom on the marriage mart but her profligate husband has already decided on a spouse for their daughter. Said choice, Jasper Thorne, is the man who propositioned Tru before he knew she was his bride-to-be's mother... and it goes from there.

Some background:

Listen, I know Sophie. I love Sophie. I've read nearly everything Sophie's ever written. My favorites so far have been the books featuring the Langley sisters, the Debutante Files series, and of course her seminal masterpiece of a Texan ex-con series, Devil's Rock. They were hot. Which is why I was surprised that The Countess did not have the follow-through in terms of sex that I was expecting. Like, there were three chapters solely dedicated to Jasper propositioning Tru, not to mention both these characters are not virgins, so I was definitely expecting more time dedicated to sex.

The book I was most inclined to compare this to based on the premise was Sophie's The Scandal of it All, in which the heroine gets with her step-son's best friend. To me, the joke was that Graciela was suuuuper *scandalized* with herself for wanting someone six whole years younger than her. I thought the age gap was negligible at the time so when I read the premise of The Countess, I hoped the age gap would be greater as this is a mother and her daughter's suitor. But alas, it was only four years when I feel like it could have been... more. Like, we really could have sold the "older woman-younger man" thing here, but it didn't happen 🤷🏻‍♀️.

My review:

Tru and Jasper's chemistry was present right off the bat with their darkened garden encounter, and it grew into something true and honest regardless of them having to hide their attraction. Jasper was there for Tru in ways her husband never was. That being said, I finished this book, I couldn't help but feel that the ending was super abrupt and very deus ex machina in resolving loose ends. I'd seen Tru and Jasper's relationship developing, but it wasn't quite there, you know? Maybe a couple more clandestine encounters (yes that includes more sex), and a more firm realization of her love for him would have done the deal.

The sex:

What we did get in terms of sex almost felt like an afterthought— make no mistake it was well written (thought I do think the kissing scenes conveyed more passion), but none of them (two of them?) were particularly noteworthy. There was a scene where parlor games were practically (unwittingly) foreplay, which I wholeheartedly approve of. I feel like people forget parlor games with kissing were A Thing back in the day, which is unfortunate, especially consider the potential of games called "Kiss the Candlestick".

Review (continued):

I think the problem was that there was way too much time devoted to just how *dastardly* Tru's husband was. She could easily have removed excess passages on how much of a drunk, lecher, glutton, terrible father, etc. he was in order to focus on our actual love interest, Jasper. Additionally, there were a lot of POVs outside Tru and Jasper's. I think Sophie wanted to introduce the full cast of characters, especially those who will be featured in upcoming books, but that came at the cost of somewhat neglecting her main couple.

Outside the romance, I did appreciate the focus on female friendship. It's similar to what I said about Sabrina Jeffries' upcoming book, except in this case, it's friendship between a bunch of disenchanted older women— which is fun. The sneak-peak into the next heroine's book definitely seems fun. Between Joanna Shupe's Fifth Avenue Rebel series, and Vivienne Lorret's Mating Habits of Scoundrels series, I think this is becoming something of a trend, and definitely one I can get behind.

Overall, I did expect more from Sophie in terms of romance and the sex, but I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for this series as a whole.

Thank you to Avon and Harper Voyager and NetGalley for an advanced copy of this book in exchange for my review.

#sophie jordan #netgalley #arc review #arc #historical romance #avon books #avon #Harper Voyager #romance novel #romance novels

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sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

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Mostrami Amore.

Summary: Cha-young tries to move on from a certain mafia boss.

Author’s Note: Thank for to everyone who sent in prompts for Chayenzo, it resulted in this mess. I don’t have much to say, I considered making this into a multi- chaptered story but honestly I don’t have time for another ongoing story so if this seems rushed it was a little, I wrote it in one go today. Hope you enjoy this, I stuck in some of my favorite crack ship because I am weak and obsessed. Happy reading!

p.s takes place after final episode but han seo lives because this is my world and I get to play God.

Another postcard.

Their delivery becomes sporadic and she’s embarrassed at the giddiness that washes over her each time a new square is sent miles across a wide stretch of ocean, the view on the card most likely lackluster in comparison to the true rendering of Malta. She has spent many hours on her laptop searching for images of the small paradisiac island, yearning to see what he sees and feel just a tad bit closer to him. Most of her life has been spent in solitude with only her work acquaintances filling the void at times, so she expected herself to be more equipped to deal with his disappearance and subsequent absence. But nothing prepares her for those moments at the coffee shop, when she finds herself smiling across a table only to realize there is no miniature espresso cup in the hand of a very dangerous Italian Korean mafia member grinning back at her.

The smile melts off her face and she swallows the bitter cool sludge in her cup, the beverage tasting exactly as he had described it without him there.

Nights are the hardest, loneliness coils around her like a snake.

There was never any other fate for them, she knew that when Vincenzo murdered all their enemies this was their only real outcome. He would always be a fugitive on the run and she an accomplice if he were captured and questioned, it was in both of their best interests if he vanished from the face of the planet. But knowing that does nothing to qualm the ever present feeling of isolation that clings to her skin as she sits alone on her couch, downing makgeolli at a vicious pace. Trying to wash his taste from her mouth, that kiss on loop in her mind and the phantom grip of his hand on her neck.

It’s those treacherous nights without the plaza members that have become a second family to her and Han Seo following her like the lost puppy he is calling her “Noona” so freely and frequently until she forgets her own name, that she allows herself to feel exactly what she’s feelings.

Heartbroken.

Desperate.

Lonely.

Rage.

The last one she hides like a dirty secret in the closet of her heart, she knew what she was signing up for. She has no legitimate reason to be angry, or so she tries to reason with herself. But. This was the same man who had bypassed the security of one of the richest men in Korea and ultimately killed him without leaving a trace. She had watched him do despicable things, blackmailing, threatening, seducing, and murdering others as he saw fit and yet, he hadn’t used any of those dastardly ways to see her. That chance meeting at the art gallery had been the last she had seen of him, Then a few weeks later another postcard with the same message she had boldly uttered at the airport, it feels insufficient after having him in her arms again. She knew in that moment that they would never be enough again. She hadn’t even argued when Mr. Nam claimed he would leave this one on his table instead, she merely nodded and walked away to peruse the new sexual assault case she has taken recently.

It gets harder and harder to hear Han Seo regaling the wonders of his “hyung”, her anger boiling deep below the surface like magma waiting to explode and transform into something tangible and destructive.

“He told me that he has a room for me too. I wonder when he’ll let us visit.”

She nods absently, staring out the window at the sunlight twinkling in through the blinds but then his words register and the gears in her head churn before running the sentence back through to carefully process them.

“He---what? You spoke to Vincenzo?”

The human puppy pouts his lips before tilting his head and dealing a hard blow to her ego and her heart, “Yeah, he sends me letters. I got so scared the first time! He said the letter would self-destruct after I read it and I really thought that was true and I dived across the room to escape but I bumped my head on the table and then...”

He sent Han Seo letters.

She had received the same fucking postcard for months on end with the same message she had said to him, and he had time to write Han Seo letters. He hadn’t sent her even one in the time he had been gone.

“That fucking bastard!” She explodes interrupting Han Seo’s recount of his near death experience and he looks wide- eyed and taken back by her outburst, she almost soothes him before another wave of anger rushes through her veins. She had accepted the bare minimum because she thought this was all he could give her but it seemed she was being too naïve. He was Vincenzo Cassano after all, he could make anything happen. She had seen it with her own two eyes. If he wasn’t reaching out to her maybe that was a message and she was too blind to see it.

“Noona? Are you okay?” Han Seo looks absolutely terrified, eyes huge and quivering. She doesn’t bother answering, grabbing her cup of lukewarm coffee and stomping out of the office ignoring Mr. Nam’s calls behind her. She’s tired of being an idiot.

She throws herself into forgetting him, the same way he seems to have forgotten her despite his words to her that fateful night on the stairs.

I thought about you everyday.

Actions speak louder than words and she is done accepting his crumbs. She has never needed anyone, had even accepted when her own father wanted nothing to do with her; she has basically been prepping for this moment her entire life.

So she goes shopping with Miri, buying gadgets that she has no idea how to use but that the other girl makes sound like things that she definitely needs such as a new home security system, her break in still fresh in her mind. She grins at the pretty smile on the other girl’s round face as she explains the specification of the machines around them and she can see why Han Seo has such a huge crush on the girl, the pretty blush that blossoms on the other girl’s cheek after stating the fact out loud is adorable and she pinches said cheek much to her chagrin.

“You should worry about your own love life.” Miri teases but the words sting like acid on her skin and she turns away to hide the grimace on her face, but she’s not fast enough and the other girl catches her wrist halting her movement.

“What? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Mr. Cassano?” Miri whispers the last part, looking around to make sure that nobody overhears them.

She forces herself to stifle her emotions, trapping them in the back of her mind refusing to let him have this kind of affect on her.

“I wouldn’t know.” She tries for a emotionless tone but even she can hear the bitterness in her own voice and Miri’s eyes fill with pity and it makes her sick to her stomach, “Don’t. I am going to be fine. Let’s just go.”

They don’t utter single word in the car ride home.

After that it becomes painfully obvious that everyone in the plaza thinks something is wrong with her and are teaming up to make her feel better. It’s the packed lunches that keep showing up on her desk without fail, her clothes being steamed and pressed for free, the way that they won’t allow her to be alone and there are countless spontaneous family game nights all ending with her drunk and being carried home.

Tonight Mr. Tak is the unlucky volunteer, dragging her limp body in her father’s house and she thinks of all the times that they drank here together and a certain person was the one hauling her body to bed complaining and grumbling but that distractingly fond smile on his face that he only ever seemed to shoot her way. Her heart thumped loudly as he loomed over her and leaned in close, getting her hopes up only to brush her hair behind her ears and softly tell her, “Go to sleep now,” and she had never been obedient all her teachers could testify to that but when he looked at her like that she was powerless to do anything else but listen.

“I miss him.” The traitorous words fall from her lips and vanish into the inky darkness of the night.

A deep sigh from the left of her, “We know.”

She feels vulnerable, the worst thing about having a weakness is other’s noticing too. She hates how weak she feels.

“I am going to forget him.”

The body supporting most of her weight tenses under her arm and she waits for his response, they all love Vincenzo- he had become their unexpected hero and leader in many ways. They would always take his side, she knows that.

“If that’s what you need to do to be happy. Then, do it. Loving a man like Vincenzo isn’t easy.”

She turns to look at him in genuine shock.

“What? You thought I would tell you to keep waiting with no end in sight? You should know by now, you mean a lot to us too. Your happiness is important to us too, we’re a family.”

“But we’re the Cassano family,” she challenges unable to accept that they could love her without Vincenzo attached, but Mr. Tak shrugs at the clarification, “We can be the Hong Family too.”

She feels her eyes swimming.

“I should go inside.”

She feels sober and more awake than ever, she stays up all night twirling the long strands of her hair in between her fingers.

Thinking.

Variety is the spice of life.

She doesn’t know where she’s heard that but it’s those sage words that are the catalyst for her spontaneous decision.

“Same as always? Silky with some body?” Her stylist peers into her eyes through the wide mirror and she hears herself say, “No I want a cut and some color.” Yu-jin raises one pretty tweezed brow but nods after a moment’s pause, “Okay. How short are you thinking?”

And that’s how she starts her day with long thick hair that grazes her lower back and ends it with a short bob that tickles her neck. It feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulder, metaphorically and literally and she loves the face that she sees in the mirror, her eyes looking brighter than they have in months. She feels more alive, like a snake shedding its skin and becoming a newer and fresher version of itself.

“Your hair?” That becomes the running theme for her day, shocked gaping mouths and hands reaching out for the hair that was once there. She merely smirks at their palpable surprise, especially Seol-jin who doesn’t recognize her from behind.

“I haven’t seen a pretty lady like you aro--Oh Ms. Hong! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, I am so sorry please excuse me!” The interpretative dancer bolts away leaving her to watch him bemused, she skips to Jipuragi with a pep in her step laughing loudly when Mr. Nam drops his coffee upon seeing her and the brown liquid goes flying and douses him in a sticky hot mess.

It’s an entertaining day to say the least.

Moments later when he’s finished cleaning himself up and changing into the cheetah print track suit that he insisted to keeping in the office, he mentions that a new postcard has arrived. She nods at the information, looking at her laptop and it’s only seconds later that she finally looks up and sees that he’s waiting for her response. She doesn’t have one.

Forcing a tight smile on her face she replies, “Oh that’s great. Just put it with the others.”

He does.

But she can feel his eyes on her, his concern heavy and tangible in the air.

She pretends not to notice and keeps clicking away on her laptop, only glancing over at the card once or twice. But it’s only out of habit.

Nothing more.

She starts going on dates with random men. Men she meets in coffee shops, on the streets, in bars, hell one time even the bookstore. She never meets the same man twice and they never get what they want but it does make her feel desirable and that’s all she’s looking for.

“Where are you going?” Han Seo asks her curiously, Miri by his side as she struts out the plaza new perfume on her skin.

“On a date. I’ll see you both later.” They both gape at her and can only watch with wide eyes as she sashays away, heels clicking with every step.

Word spreads like wildfire and no one takes it harder than Mr. An, who calls her a “jezebel” and cries at the front of the law firm for hours, she has to step over him to go get lunch shaking him off when he latches on to her ankles.

The others just look at her with sad eyes, filled with both understanding and disappointment.

Much to her surprise the lunch boxes keep coming and her clothes are still pressed and starched to perfection though.

She also starts taking self defense classes, Korea is much more dangerous than she had first suspected and she has to be able to protect herself because nobody is coming to save her. Not anymore.

It becomes a great outlet for her built up anger and her instructor praises her for being a fast learner. She grins and nods before flipping him and twisting his arm around his own neck in a modified sleeper hold. When he taps on her arm she squeezes tighter instead of letting go and he goes limp for a moment before she comes back to herself and releases him hastily with a quick apology, “Sorry!”

He rubs his neck, panting for air and she feels guilty, there's a tinge of that but most of all she feels powerful, more so than she has for a long time.

It’s crazy but she finds herself asking him for drinks after class and even crazier is that he agrees even with her marks still there on his skin, the area bruised and red. He looks at her like she’s challenge that he wants to conquer, she lets him believe that’s possible. It’s only a bit of fun anyway, she has no plans for anything serious.

Drinks turn into a drunken cab ride home with his hand on her thigh, hot through the thin material of her tights and they don’t feel right- too small and not rough enough but she’s moving on and she has no time to reminisce.

There hasn’t even been a postcard lately. Message, loud and clear.

When she shoves the keys into her door, he’s glued to her body leaving wet kisses on the long column of her neck and she tries to suppress the nausea that swims in her stomach, everything feels wrong and she hates herself for feeling that way. Why shouldn’t she fuck whoever she wants? He is probably doing the same thing, everyday on his beautiful private island. Kissing women that aren’t her and whispering dirty Italian words into their ears as he rocks back and forth, nary a thought of that Korean woman he knew once upon a time.

Fuck him.

She rocks back into the purposeful grind of the hips behind her, feeling the hardness that digs into the soft flesh of her ass and finally the door opens and they both tumble in haphazardly and he thrusts a hand under her loose shirt fingering at her breasts before a dark figure moves far too quickly in her peripheral and she hears her date cry out in pain.

She almost faints at the familiar sight of the one person she never expected to see, the hard glint of his cold eyes as he twists the same hand that had just been fondling her chest. The grip looks painful, the wrist contorted in an unnatural manner.

“What the fuck? You have a boyfriend?!” Her instructor cries out, voice high pitched falling to his knees as Vincenzo kicks his feet out from under him.

She rolls her eyes, of course he would come now when she is trying (and failing) to get over him.

Vindictively she answers the question, ‘No.”

But that makes Vincenzo twist the wrist in his grip even tighter and she can see the bones breaking so she takes pity on the poor man, he didn’t sign up for a murderous mafia leader after all.

“Just let him go. You have no right to do any of this.”

He doesn’t listen right away and absently she wonders if she’ll need to test out her new moves on him, it would be satisfying to deck him square in the face. She dreams of that as often as she dreams of their reunion. Her feelings are...complicated to say the least.

Then with a grunt, he throws the other man away like he’s trash and growls out, “Get out of here before I kill you.”

She tries not be get turned on by that. But it’s a hard sell, her body already getting revved up. He’s telling the truth.

The man wastes no time, jumping to his feet and bolting out the door without one backwards glance. Asshole, he was really just leaving her with a clearly unstable and dangerous man.

“We need to talk.” Vincenzo squeezes out between clenched teeth, and her blood runs cold but she stares him dead in the eyes tired of this game they’ve been playing, if he’s here to end things she wants to know.

“Okay. Then talk.”

She looks insanely beautiful, with her hair cropped so short bringing his eyes to the tantalizing length of her neck. His eyes close in on a spot of moisture on her neck, he feels his blood boiling imagining that bastard touching any part of her. She’s glaring right back at him, her chest rising and falling and he can’t help but check her out, it’s been months since he saw her in person the photo of her doing aerial yoga above his bed couldn’t compare to the tempest that is Cha-young in real life.

The flat plane of her belly is on display under the white crop top loosely stretched across her chest which leads down to her slim hips and legs wrapped in white spandex, leaving very little to the imagination not that he hasn’t imagined her in far less many, many times. Too many times to count. Spilling across the silk adorning his king sized bed with only her name on his lips.

She looks fucking hot.

That makes it even more frustrating because he can still clearly see that bastard wrapped around her like a snake and his hands going up her shirt---he has to take a deep breath before he breaks something. Or chases that asshole to break his face.

There’s so much he wants to say to her, so much he owes her.

I missed you.

I love you.

Come with me.

“Who the hell was that?” He says this instead then watches her eyes glint over into nothing but pure murderous rage. Wrong move. But he couldn’t help it, green eyed raged taking away his decision making abilities.

“That’s all you have to say? Get out.”

He wasn’t expecting rose petals and trumpets when he returned but he definitely wasn’t expecting this, her cold glare or another man in his spot. He thought she would wait for him, just as he had done for her.

“Are you serious right now?” He counters, flabbergasted.

“Deadly. Get out.”

He clenches his fist, and then stomps out. Turning back but only to watch the door slam in his face.

What the hell.

It had only taken a letter from Han Seo to get him on boat that would take him to an open field and hours later he was soaring through the skies on a hot air balloon, on his way back to Korea. It was insane and he barely had time to explain to his family but Luca nodded at him like this was the only choice and told him that he would take care of everything, and he trusted those words more than he had ever trusted anything in his life.

“Vai a prendere la tua donna( go get your woman).”

He had nodded, gruffly patting the other man on his shoulder before hopping over into the waiting boat.

But he wasn’t so certain anymore that Cha-young was his.

She seems different. Colder almost, she leaves whenever I mention your name and she goes on dates now. I think she’s moving on hyung, what are you going to do?

Those words had been the scariest thing he had never seen. Scarier than every gun that had ever been pointed at his head. He thought what they had was something special, something that could stand the test of time and distance. He stared at the huge pile of letters on his bedside, all addressed to her. He had written one everyday since they had been separated, but each time he was too much of a coward to send it. In those letters he could say things that he could never say to her face, things like how much he ached without her by his side and how her smile was the only thing that kept him going. In those letters he could regal the ways he loved her, and how deeply she had been branded into his soul, every atom of his body belonged to her and her alone. He would kill for her, die for her, anything she needed or merely wanted he would provide it, all she needed to do was ask.

He could only share those feelings in the letters.

He walks for hours, until he ends up at his old apartment the familiar door greeting him and he sticks his hand in his pocket before he remembers that he gave the key away, with a sigh he starts to walk away before the door creaks open and he hears a voice he hasn’t heard in months.

“Hyung!”

A warmth spreads across his back as a solid weight almost knocks him off his feet. He reaches one arm around his body, awkwardly slapping the face that is pressing into his collar.

“You really chose to stay here.”

He feels the nod on his shoulder, “Of course. It made me feel closer to you hyung, I missed you.”

He grunts in response, before turning around and tugging the younger man into a real hug. He had missed the annoying little leech too, he had missed everyone.

They are still in each other’s embrace for a moment before Han Seo pulls away, sympathy etched deep on his face.

“She wasn’t happy to see you.”

“There was someone else there.” He hates the words even as they leave his mouth and Han Seo winces, looking pained for him before tugging him into the small apartment. Everything is just like he left it. He looks around in awe.

“I’m sorry hyung. What are you going to do?”

That’s the golden question, he pondered it all the way here and he’s no closer to knowing the answer to that. Usually she is the one that makes the move, she has always been the brave one between them. He back steps and says things he doesn’t mean and she sees through him and smashes down all his walls. That’s how this has always worked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Let her be happy.”

A loud scoff reaches his ears, “Sure. Is that why you sailed across sharked infested waters and trusted a hot air balloon company run my former thugs?”

He smarts at the sarcastic reply and glares before flicking the cheeky brat on his nose, "I liked you better when you were stupid you know. Now you're a little smart ass."

The younger man looks even more youthful as he grins back at him, rubbing at his nose before shrugging. "I learned from the best."

He has no rebuttal for that so he tries to flick him again, giving chase when he darts off.

It feels good to be home.

He warns Han Seo not to tell anyone that he's here least they give away his location.

So he's not surprised the next day to find the cavalry at his doorstep hands filled to the brim with containers of food. There are tears, mostly from Mr. Nam who won't stop screaming his name and pinching his cheeks to see if he's real and Mr. An who wraps around him like a koala despite his very detailed threats. It's all chaos and so familiar that his heart aches but her absence is like a hole in his chest. Nobody mentions her but they all keep looking at the door, so it's obvious that she was invited but chose not to come.

Because she didn't want to see him.

"You're here to win her back right?" He doesn't know who even utters the words but when he glances up they are all looking at him expectantly.

He didn't know that was what he was indeed here for thought that she would happily welcome him back and they could pick up where they left off but she's made it clear that this won't be the case. This will be the most important fight of his life.

"Yes. I'm here for Cha-young."

He gets enthusiastic thumbs up and a loud giggle from the Yeon-Jin and Cheol-Wook’s adorable baby, her little hands too uncoordinated to do a thumbs up but she waves excitedly feeding off the energy around her.

He wonders how Cha-young would look with a baby in her arms, their baby it's a dangerous thought. But one that he can't get out of his mind once he thinks it.

They stay until midnight, forcing him to eat and drink too much soju until he passes out to dreams filled with a round Cha-young, belly swollen and protruding from her body.

It doesn't take much to learn her schedule(Mr. Nam hands him a laminated copy) and he has to put on a disguise but he enters the shop seconds after her, hearing her order that god awful sewer water she's so fond of.

"An espresso for me." He leans in too close, almost brushing her shoulder and she jolts at the sound of his voice, turning to stare at him as if she's a mirage.

"You're still here?" She whispers and then shakes her head and looks away as if she's hadn't meant to say the words aloud.

It hurts him that she thought he would leave without telling her but he can't blame her, he has been anything but consistent. Instead of answering, he leans forward to hand his credit card to the cashier who glances between them suspiciously before accepting the card.

Their orders are ready in seconds and he follows her as she walks to their table, butterflies in his stomach at the familiar sight.

She turns to him with a glare, "It's just the only available table."

He moves to pull out her chair and she starts at him tight lipped before sitting down. She's in a tight black suit today, two long slits on the side of her pants going all the way up to her thighs. He gulps down his drink to get rid of the drool pooling in his mouth.

"You're upset with me."

She stares at him like he's the biggest idiot on the planet, it's not a look he receives often but she's always the outlier in his otherwise organized life.

"Astute observation." She quips back, sucking loudly at her coffee.

"Why?"

He considered how to go about breeching this subject and in the end had decided on going straight to the source, he had been under the impression that this was working for them.

Her face morphs into a person he hasn't seen for a long time, the Cha-young that would berate him and make him angry enough to curse in Italian.

"Do you think this little of me?"

He's completely lost, "What do you mean? What did I do that was so wrong? Wrong enough for you to cheat on me!" He's panting now, his voice has gotten loud enough to catch people's attention he can feel them watching their table, nosy and invested.

"Cheat on you?"

Cold as ice, her voice is. It almost makes him shiver.

"How could I possibly cheat on you? We're not together. You send me the same postcard with the same message every few months. I have no idea what you're doing in Malta, who you're with. You can't even be bothered to send me a letter, do you think this is a relationship? You think it's enough to pop up like this every once in a blue moon? You've told me nothing about how you feel about me but I'm supposed to be satisfied with whatever you throw my way?"

If he wasn't sitting down his legs would have already given out he's certain about that. Her voice is deadly quiet each word landing and chipping away at his confidence.

"I'm doing the best I can! You knew it would be like this after everything was over, why are you blaming me now? How about you, I don't know how you feel either!"

"I love you! Anyone with eyes can see that, I told you that at the airport too. And again when I took a bullet for you, you didn't think that meant I loved you? I was willing to die for you."

Shit.

It's not at all how he expected them to confess their love for each other, it's hard to believe the words that are coming out of her mouth as she bares her teeth at him.

"So why are you doing this? Why are there other men?"

Why aren't I enough? He wants to say but he's scared of her answer, terrified that she'll say that she can't do this anymore. That he just isn’t enough anymore.

She stares at him long and hard.

Waiting for something. But he doesn't know what.

"You haven't changed at all. You're still a coward, I'm not interested in guessing anymore. I’m done playing this game.”

She stands up and walks away, leaving her unfinished coffee on the table.

Unwanted just like him.

She doesn't see him for days and she accepts that her words had done their damage, she had cried until she fell asleep that night. Waking up with swollen red eyes that no amount of concealer would save but thankfully no one commented on her state.

She goes through her day on autopilot and before she knows it she's back home, ready to face her night alone again. She pushes the door open, half praying he'll be waiting for her but her hopes shattered when she turns on the lights and finds no one.

"It's better this way." She lies to herself, pouring herself an obscene glass of soju. She's going to need plenty of alcohol to get through this pain.

Her head is woozy and heavy when she hears a sound, suddenly alert she stills in her chair before rushing over to get a frying pan walking on the tips of her toes she prowls closer to the clicking sound, finding herself at the window peering at a long lost friend. Placing the frying pan on her window sill she pry opens the window, screeching when the audacious bird flies inside landing on her table as if he belongs there.

"Hey Inzaghi! Get your dirty bird feet off my table!"

He looks at her nonchalantly, making himself comfortable on said table and she sighs before shutting the window and drunkenly swaying over to him.

"What are you even doing there? Do you want to be my bird now, I won't be a very good owner. I won't remember to feed you. I barely remember to feed myself."

Despite being a bird he finds a way to roll his eyes at her before standing up and only then does she notice something on his leg. She looks at him cautiously before moving closer and untying the paper on his leg, the pigeon barely reacts before flying over to her couch. She sighs in annoyance, she's going to have to clean everything after this bird leaves.

She unwinds the string holding the paper together, unrolling the paper scroll. There is a message written inside: the rooftop. 9 pm.

Glancing at her clock the time shines at her.

7:34pm.

"This could be a trap."

It very much could be, she has enemies now. It was a small price to pay for taking down Babel but she's always looking over her shoulders now, so this note could easily be someone luring her to hurt her or get back at Vincenzo.

Inzaghi coos loudly at her as if he can hear her thoughts. This time he finds a way to look exasperated.

She stumbles off to her room.

She needs time to think.

"So she told you that she loved you and you didn't say it back?"

"I was shocked. She was growling at me and looked ready to kill me at the same time." He reasons back, trying to show his hyung his point of view. The younger man doesn't look even a little bit convinced by his logic.

"Okay and? That sounds perfectly normal for you too. You should have shot someone and wrote it back in their blood on the table."

He recoils in disgust at the suggestion, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you actually insane, why the fuck would I do that?"

Han Seo stares deadpan in return.

He puts up a hand trying to stop whatever response he has, "Don't say it."

It doesn't work.

"Pig's blood. Don't forget I saw it all, I've never seen Ms. Hong look so excited before. You're both crazy."

Well, that had been different. It was an old tradition, she simply had an appreciation for the classics.

"And I bet you're defending her right now in your mind. Noona is just like you, that's why you're made for each other. She's the gasoline to your fire."

"You know that would just make an even larger fire right?"

"Yes. I'm smart now remember? I know what I said."

He sighs falling into the comfortable familiarity of the couch, a spring digging into his thigh.

"Why didn't you say it back?" His stills at the barely whispered question, his chest constricting as he recalls the passionate confession. He had frozen, like he'd always known she was the brave one between them. Always doing the unexpected and the time was no different, her words had knocked him off his feet.

"Because I was scared."

Han Seo huffs at his honesty. He doesn't know where the words are coming from but he's tired of keeping it all in.

"Because if anything happens to her it'll break me, I thought it would be better if I kept her at a distance. I thought this was enough. I thought this would be easier. When I think about her I want to drop everything and just be with her and that...was too dangerous. I had to keep my distance."

There's a pregnant pause, just the sound of their breathing filling the void.

"Was it?"

"What?"

"Easier. Is this better? Enough?"

He thinks about Cha-young getting married to a faceless man, exchanging vows and sealing it with a kiss, happy and in love on their honeymoon wanton moans and screams from their room, learning that they're having a baby and her round and glowing with someone else's child smiling brightly as she rubs her belly and it's too much. He wants to smash it all into little pieces.

"No. It's not enough. I need her, without her nothing is enough."

"That's what you should have said to her. Don't glare at me I'm right, but I have an idea. I saw it in an American cartoon."

And that's how he lets his younger brother convince him to send a note to Cha-young using Inzaghi, the pigeon had shown up one night and he'd been so happy he almost kissed the bird.

"How will he know where Cha Young lives?" He asks skeptical even as he ties the note to the birds leg.

"I showed him a picture of her house. According to the cartoon, birds just know.”

He stares at the younger man, wondering why he's listening to this ridiculous plan.

"This is stupid. I should just text her, Inzaghi is never going to deliver this. He's just a regular pigeon."

"This is more romantic." He answers matter of fact.

"How is a pigeon delivering a message in anyway romantic?" He challenges already knowing from the shit eating grin he won’t like the response.

"The same way pig blood was." The brat counters and he doesn't get a chance to respond before Han Seo picks Inzaghi up and throws him out the window, "In the name of love!" He only barely stops himself from bashing his head into the wall, the younger man has to wrestle him to the ground.

It's stupid. They did all of this for nothing the cool breeze makes him pull his coat tighter around his body, exposed to the weather on the open space of the rooftop.

He checks his watch, 9:48.

She's not coming and the worst part is that he doesn't know if it's because that damn bird never delivered his message or if it's because she really doesn't want anything to do with him. The burden of not knowing hurts more than anything.

Expelling the air in his lungs he walks back to the single door that leads off the roof, twisting the doorknob in his hand and pulling it open.

Meeting the shocked face of one Cha-young.

They both just stare at each other before he speaks, "You came."

He can't believe it. Inzaghi had actually delivered the note, somehow the pigeon had found her house and she was here. He almost pinches himself to see if he'd passed out on the roof and this was just a dream.

"I didn't know Inzaghi was a carrier pigeon." She futilely tries to change the subject and he takes a step back, gathering the tattered pieces of his courage. The same courage that had propelled him to kiss her all those months ago on the stairs.

"I'm so happy you're here. I waited for you."

She stares at him like he has two heads before blushing, and avoiding his eyes.

"Come with me." He extends his hands and tries not to be too hurt when she bypasses it and steps around him instead.

At least she was here.

With a quick swipe of his hand he sends the message to his accomplices.

Now.

The lights come on, fairy lights decorating the roof top in a heavenly glow. She spins around in wonder, eyes nearly as bright she's so beautiful it's almost painful to look at her.

Then the music starts.

The soft notes filling the space.

When I walk down a road I don't know well....

She looks around in wonder, staring back at him she can’t believe what’s happening.

Then the letters start falling from the sky, all the letters he had written to her alone and missing her thousands of miles away. His plaza family smiles down at him, throwing letters from a higher building.

Cha-young stares up at the sky in surprise, hundreds of letters landing all around her.

It had taken a few days for Luca to send them all over and then another day to get the guts to do this, there was no turning back now. He had never willingly made himself vulnerable to anyone else, but according to Han Seo it was the only way he was going to win her back.

“She just wants to know that you love her too. Show her.”

He watches anxiously as she picks up a letter, stroking lightly at her own name on the front looking at him with stunned wet eyes.

“You wrote me a letter.” Her voice is revere and awe that he doesn’t deserve, not after everything he has put her through in the sake of protecting himself but he’s too elated to see her looking at him like that again, like he’s someone important to her.

“182. For each day we were apart. I told you I thought about you everyday, and every time I did I wrote you a letter.”

She stares at the letter in her hand, gently ripping it open and devouring the words on the page. Nerves shoot up and down his body as he watches her read his most private thoughts about her, her expressive face for once empty of emotions as she silently reads the letter.

He waits.

Breathless and terrified.

“Why didn’t you ever send them? They were mine so why did you keep them?” He hears an edge in her voice that makes him wonder if she’s only talking about the letters.

“Cha-young, I don’t think you understand.”

She breathes out loudly, stomping over to him until they are inches apart and he has no choice but to look into the deep pool of her eyes.

“I don’t! I don’t understand anything, I thought you had found someone else in Malta and the postcards were just your way of being nice. I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did, you were sending Han Seo letters but you wouldn’t do the same for me. What was I supposed to think? Why didn’t you try to help me understand, you were gone for six months!”

There’s so much wrong with everything she said, how could he find anyone else when his heart beats for her? How could he forget her when everything he did reminded him of her, he saw her every night in his dreams. But he doesn’t make the same mistake this time, he says what’s important.

“I feel the same way. I love you Cha-young. I thought this was better for you, that this could be enough. But I was wrong, I missed you every minute of every--”

“Come home with me.”

He stops, stares, gapes and then stares some more.

“What? I wasn’t finished confessing though.” Actually offended that she interrupted his planned speech. He was about to recite one of his favorite Italian love poems for her and then ask her to dance.

She rolls her eyes dragging him towards the door, “Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time? It’s been six months and you have been here for too long, you have to go soon.”

She’s right, he has a flight in two days for an identity he borrowed for his escape.

“Listen to her, just go back to her place and have a good night!” That sounds like Cheol-Wook and then they all erupt into applause and start cheering and hollering, chanting their names and then to his embarrassment they start chanting, “Go have sex! Go have sex!” complete with the monks banging on their drums and he doesn’t think he will ever live down this moment, especially when he sees Miri capturing it on the new video camera he had gifted her.

He flips them off as an eager Cha-young pulls him away their laughter following them all the way.

The car ride is too long on the way over and she wonders how quickly she can undress them both as soon as they reach, there is simply no time to waste.

But once they get to the doorstep he suddenly freezes, tugging her backwards into his chest.

“This looks familiar doesn’t it?” His voice is dark and smoky and she immediately knows what he’s referring to, and she refuses to give him any reaction.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“You let someone else touch you. Here.” He runs a hand up her neck, briefly squeezing, “And here,” she gasps at his hands suddenly on her breast, squeezing harshly at the tender flesh.

“So what are you going to do about it?” She knows that she’s playing with fire, but that is their foundation. She has never aimed to cool him off or tone him down, she sees the dark side inside of him and loves it, encourages it and feeds on it herself allowing it to bring her darkness out too.

He kicks the door open, shoving her side and she delights at the rough treatment. She hopes that she is filled with his bruises tomorrow.

She doesn’t wait for his next move, pulling her shirt up and over her head before tugging off her skirt leaving herself in a barely there lace panties and a matching lace bra that is translucent, her nipples peeking through the sheer material. He stares at her transfixed, his hunger evident in his eyes and in the tent forming in his tight dress pants.

“Take those off.” She commands and he smirks before obeying, peeling the pants off his thighs standing in his button down shirt and tight boxer briefs that leave nothing to her imagination, every delicious inch of him visible. She steps forward bringing their bodies in contact, before thrusting her hand inside the opening of his briefs. He feels hard and smooth, liquid pooling at the tip and she twists her hand collecting it to ease her slow strokes up and down. His voice hitches as she fingers his balls and without warning she tugs his boxers off, leaving him bare to her eyes.

Mesmerized by the unencumbered sight of him, she drops to her knees using her hand to guide him to her eagerly waiting mouth.

His flavor explodes on her tongue and she swallows more, grabbing his hips to drag him deeper into her mouth until she can feel him in her throat, but even after her eyes start to burn and she feels herself choking she doesn’t stop, bobbing up and down hungrily, sloppy wet sounds filling the room in a filthy symphony. At first he lets her control the movement, pliant in her hands but as she increases her speed and suction he starts groaning and huffing loudly and then she feels his hand on the back of her hand, keeping her in place and when she looks up at him he looks wrecked. Eyes dazed and his face red and flushed, she ingrains that image in her mind, for when he’s gone and all she has are her toys.

She stares back defiantly before he draws himself out of her mouth, a single line of spit connecting them and then he thrusts back into her mouth roughly and she opens her mouth wider to accept the abuse, loving every second of it even as a her throat aches. He sets a frantic pace, his balls slamming against her chin and she doesn’t realize at first that his grunts have transformed into words, too much blood rushing to her head.

“Mine. Mine, nobody can---ah fuck! Nobody can see you like this. Only me. You’re mine.”

He fucks her mouth like it’s his to use and do what he pleases, and she’s wetter than she’s ever been listening to him claim her verbally and with the wet push of his dick in her mouth.

She starts grinding on the floor like a cat in heat and without preamble he grabs her under her armpits and lifts her like she weighs nothing, his dick sliding free from her hot mouth, “I want to make you scream.” He says this like a declaration of love and she throws herself at him, kissing the words off his lips. His tongue swirls in her mouth and she wonders if he can taste himself in her. It makes her hotter and she grinds her barely covered pussy onto his naked length, groaning at the friction even though the thin layer separating them.

He tosses her onto the bed and she doesn’t even remember them walking, his tongue and his wondering fingers had completely distracted her.

She lays sprawled across the bed as he stares at her, like she’s feast he can’t wait to devour.

“Nobody has been in here.” She doesn’t know if he’s asking a question or making a statement, but she feels that his jealousy is real. Seeing her with someone else had done something to him, guilt washes over her. If she had seen him with someone else she would have lost her mind too.

“Nobody. I never brought anyone home before, that guy was a mistake. I was just hurt and missing you. I’m sorry.”

He had abandoned her for six months and she didn’t owe him anything but his pain is her pain and they are stronger now, everything has been said.

“Good.”

Then he rips her panties away and buries his face between her legs, prying her wide open with his hands and lapping at her with his searing hot tongue. Immediately he has his wish and she screams, loud enough to fill the entire room.

“Already screaming amore? It’s going to be a long night, I want to make you hoarse.”

She doesn’t get a moment to respond before he’s back to licking and sucking at her most sacred part, fingers deep inside her as he thrusts and strokes alongside his tongue, his fingers and tongue moving in tandem and she tries to stifle the scream but a particularly deep fuck makes the sound erupt from her throat and her head feels dizzy from the overwhelming sensation.

He has boundless energy it seems, as time drags by and she feels her body tightening up as he systemically destroys her, he never takes a break or pauses, slurping up all the liquid that drips from her and the sounds of him swallowing are beyond erotic. When a hand runs up her stomach and squeezes at a bouncing breast she can’t contain her moans of pleasure, crying out as his fingers pinching the tight bud of her nipple.

“Please.”

He coos in her, “So pretty when you beg.” Then he sticks his tongue as far as it can go and she hears the rush of blood in her head as her body shakes apart and her release gushes from her body, twitching when he laps it all up her oversensitive body recoiling from the overstimulation.

She has never come like that before, most men have never put in the work necessary to make her come and she wasn’t one to fake it so her experiences with sex with someone else were few and far in between.

This feels like nirvana.

“You still with me amore?” The bastard looks so smug, looming above her naked arms on the side of her head, and she had no idea when he took his shirt off.

“I can’t feel like my legs.”

He chuckles loudly at the statement, grinning growing wider.

“Well I can assure you that they’re still there and they will look great wrapped around my waist.”

Raising to his challenge, although her body is still buzzing she wraps her legs around his waist, they feel like jelly but she finds the strength to follow through with her movement.

“I was right they do look great.”

“Well this would look great in me.” She counters, grabbing at his thick ruddy red dick jutting from his body and he rocks into her hand before knocking her hand away and taking himself in his hand.

“Do we need a condom?” He asks her, looking like he is ready to stop at nay minute if she tells him that they do.

“No.”

She has been on birth control since she was a teen and there’s been no one for her since she met him, and she trusts that it’s been the same for him.

“Thank goodness, I want to feel everything.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s easing into her, slow and steady. She lets him continue for a moment before she tightens her legs around his waist and pulls him in roughly, as deep as she can get him in this position. “Fuck, you’re so impatient.”

“Shut up and fuck me already.”

He grumbles at her calling her bossy, but she sighs when he draws out and slams back in with a quick snap of his hips.

“Yes just like that!”

He takes direction very well, repeating the motion until the bed starts to creak from their movements, he pistons in and out of her gone all semblance of gentle or slow, they have teetered into a speed that can only be defined as “break neck” and she feels her body sliding up the mattress as he pounds into her over and over again, she latches onto his neck eager to leave a branding mark on him and he groans at the suction, grinding harder into her and gripping her ass to force her to meet his vicious thrusts.

Absently she feels him peeling her bra from her body, the only remaining item of clothing that has survived their coupling and she knows exactly when he sees the scar. The grotesque knitting of skin that had left a permanent scar on her shoulder, she almost covers it up but when she peels her eyes open he is staring at her mesmerized.

“Don’t look.”

He leans down to kiss it, the softest more precious kiss she has ever received in her life.

He peppers more kisses all over, then strokes at it with a single finger.

“I should have realized, this was your confession. I was an idiot. I will never be that stupid again, I love you so much. I would do anything for you. Anything.”

He puts her legs on her shoulder, nearly bending her in half before resuming his thrusts but they are less frenzied now, it feels like lovemaking. Her eyes prickle when he kisses her scar with every downward thrust, whispering, “Beautiful, so beautiful. Every inch of you.”

She cries out.

With every thrust he kisses her scar, making her feel lightheaded and naked.

When he moves them into a new position, her back to his front giving him better access to her scar, she loses herself as he whispers sweet nothings into her ears and litters the spot with warm kisses.

She falls off the edge with his lips on her scar and him deep inside her, warm bursts filling her up before leaking out onto the bed sheets.

“Today’s our last day.”

Waking up next to him is torture, she tries not to ingrain that in her mind but it’s too late it’s already there. He blinks away the sleep in his eyes at her words and then nods solemnly in agreement.

“Yes for this visit. But I’ll always come back for you.”

She smiles brightly, “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

They don’t leave the bed except to get breakfast and that ends with her laid across the kitchen table getting taken from behind after teasing him. He can’t seem to keep his hands off her new hair, twisting the short strands in his hands and yanking on them. She catches him looking at her heatedly more than once.

Then they wind up in the shower, trying to clean up and getting dirtier instead, his hands tight in her hair and around her waist as he hoists her up to pound her into the wall. Making up for lost time.

They get messages from their entire family, Vincenzo showing her a message from Han Seo asking if he’s going to be an uncle soon. She promises to embarrass him in front of Miri very, very soon.

Both pretend they don’t feel the day fading away, bringing them closer to their goodbye.

Tomorrow he will be gone again, but there’s no guessing now. She knows what she means to him now and that’s more than enough.

She wakes up to an empty bed and a ticket to Malta, the ball is in her court.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #smut #but you know with feelings #romance isn't dead #you can find it in strange places #like pig's blood #han seo has the best wingman #the mafia family

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