#SO THIS CAN BE ANY SITUATION YOUR HEART DESIRES I'LL ROLL WITH IT ))

[pixeechix21]

The Ritual

Reader x Slytherin boys (Matteo and Theo)

Summary: When the ritual begins, the dark gives light to desires that need to be satisfied. You are a Slytherin and there’s the initiation for Last Year students. Pansy begs you to go, but what makes you agree is because, the Slytherin boys were betting you wouldn’t because you're a goody two shoes. When you arrive at the bonfire in the Forbidden Forest you're teased by Matteo and Theo.

TW: where do I start??? degradation kink, praise kink, primal, threesome, rough, M/M/F, blood, fighting, oral, p in v, fear kink, being chased, almost suggestion of rape (didn’t happen phew), trapping(idk wt it means necessarily but like it makes sense), teasing

WC:2.8K ish

Heading towards the dungeons you were ready to take off your tie and huddle up, hidden away from them. Entering the high vaulted main room, you search for them making sure you're safe. Pansy shrieks excitedly as soon as you take a step further. She runs up and hugs, “bitch where the fuck have you been!” she takes hold of you and steers you to the large leather couches situated in an arc, full of giggling girls. “Hey, y/n,” a couple smile and continue gossiping in whispering voices. You let yourself curl up between Pansy and Oliva. 

“Yeah, Snape wanted me after class to talk about extra work,” you explain, trying to play it cool and that you definitely weren’t getting some from Gryffindor. 

“Boo! You overachiever,” Pansy teases. “So you going?” She looks eagerly. It takes you a moment to realize what she was asking.

“Ehhhhh-”

“For the love of god, you better be,” she threatens.

“But I have to study and honestly I don’t want to be out there freezing my ass off,” you complain. You wanted to go but you really did have work you hadn’t done any of the assignments for tomorrow.

“You won’t be freezing your ass off if someone’s grabbing it. Pleeease,” she grabs your arms giving you faux puppy dog eyes. “We can even leave. After midnight,” she negotiates. You’re unsure, you’re low key excited about the Ritual, but… your brain tries to reason.

“Yeah pleeease, I know someone that’d want to get some,” Matteo's voice mocks from behind us. Aw shit, the Heirs. 

“Shut up Matteo, go find a fourth year to play with,” you retaliate facing the group of boys. Each tall and darkly handsome each in their own right. 

"Aww don't say that you know i prefer third years," he mockingly puts a hand to his heart in hurting. "I was merely offering an option."

"Ew Matteo," you, Pansy and Liv say in unison, rolling your eyes. "Anyways she would go for a dick like you, she's got Simon from Ravenclaw to help" she points out completely forgetting that that was said in confidence and that he broke it off to pursue "true love" or some shit. 

"We all know Simon couldn't please you," Tom chirps in walking along, already bored of this child's play. You roll your eyes and face forward ignoring their laughs echoing down from the boy's dorms. 

"He's not wrong he has that rat out of a sewer vibe," Liv agrees watching as your face screws up in a smile as you agree. 

"I'll go," you finally say.

"Yes bitch!" Pansy squeals again, jumping up and running to your room. 

The ritual is a customary initiation for final year Slytherins. All the staff know about it but they don't have enough energy to deal with stopping it from happening. It happens on the last weekend of autumn term, where everyone drinks endlessly and there's always a game involved. Hunt or be hunted; separate the mundane from the ambitious. 

As soon as Snape is reported to be tucked away in his master room, the students slowly scuttle out of the dungeons like mice, out to the dark forest. 

Pansy is readjusting her tits to be pushed out further, you shake your head giggling. "Shut up you're blessed with amazing tits," she dismisses you pulling down your shirt to stop you from hiding yourself. "Show what your mama gave you babies." The cold encircles your body and the full moon lights the path into the forest. In the middle behind a tangle of trees there's a small clearing in the middle a large bonfire burns. You see a page flutter up in the flames, probably used old books instead of fire, you think. You're nervous, unsure of the darkness and the rowdy teens drinking. Pansy spotted her boy toy and she left the bottle in hand. You walk around talking to others, slowly warming up as the fire burns brighter. Then just as everyone settled down, there was a shouting announcing, “everyone shut the fuck up!” On top of a newly fallen tree stood Draco. 

“As you all know tonight is the sacred night of the Ritual!” Everyone lifts their drinks shouting in excitement. “Alright alright, tonight’s special game is Tag, boys versus girls, as we are gentlemen we’ll let the ladies have a head start.” He goes on mischievously. “The Forbidden Forest is filled with monstrous creatures, but don’t lose sight of the real dangers. Us.” There’s geering all around. You search for Pansy but she’s nowhere to be seen. Don’t be a pussy, a small voice tells you. Inhaling deeply you accept the consequences whatever they will be. It’s a game, and you’re the chestmaster you got this, you hype yourself out. 

“We’ll start in 10 minutes,” Tom shouts. Everyone spreads out, you head out to search for a route. “The winners will be given the honorary title of King and Queen of Slytherine, and will be placed as head girl and boy of Slytherine house.”

“You warmed up?” Matteo cuts you off, eyeing you up and down. “I can give you a hand. Get you ready,” he steps closer. You instinctively step back. 

“Where you off to little bunny, we haven’t said go,” Theo breathes out smoke. The pungent smoke fills your lungs as you suck in your breath. He’s directly behind you, sandwiching you in.

“Go fuck yourself,” you say snarkily. Your chest rising up and down, tits rising and falling out of your small shirt. Matteo’s dead eyes look down to your chest, and smiles slightly, running his tongue over his teeth. Like a wolf ready to eat. 

“Trust me, I’d rather you do it,” he says slowly, inching closer. Theo chuckles as you step back again, this time his large hands take hold of your waist to steady you. A small hum of agreement comes from him. 

“I’d fuck your dad before you,” you spit out glaring up at Matteo. Challenging him further.

“Ha! I never thought power would be what gets you hot and heavy y/n,” he teases.

You’ve had enough, there’s too much adrenaline and alcohol running through your body to the point you’ve lost all reasonability, because suddenly you’re getting extremely hot. There’s a stirring down between your legs as he grabs your chin so that you look up at him. Feeling both of their hands holding you there, you feel trapped, encircled and being toyed with. 

Draco is counting down to zero and you’re starting to anticipate your escape. “Be careful little bunny,” Matteo starts.

“Wouldn’t want a big bad wolf to catch you,” Theo finishes, flicking his cigarette away. As Draco shouts zero, they both step aside, a devilish smirk plastered on their faces. They watch you intently as you start to walk away backwards then you turn around and bolt it.

There’s screams and giggles of girls as we make our way through the dark forest. I don’t even want to be the head girl you think regretting coming, the comfortable thought of your books and studies sounds like a much better option. You’ve slowed your running shouting and giggles only  distant echoes now. “Run run, bunny,” a voice says. You stop spinning around trying to gauge where the voice came from. The silence chills you to your bones, and you go into a sprint again. There’s laughing all around. You want to barf from the heavy breathing and alcohol. You check behind you, “GOT YOU!” Caleb James shouts, scaring the living shit out of you as he jumps out and takes hold of you. “Look who it is, the slytherin heirs’ slut,” he jeers, his breath stinks as he talks closely to your face, you turn your head in disgust. “Bet you’ll open your legs for me,” he starts to manhandle you and you scream for help. Your wand had fallen to the floor when he caught you. “Shut up slut,” he shakes you vigorously. There’s a snap of a twig in the dark. He stops his movements. You try to break free. Two dark figures step out of the shadows, their black clothes like camouflage. You never thought you’d be happy to see them. One of them advances upon you guys, he raises his fist and punches Caleb. A splatter of blood falls on your face, you step back watching them. Matteo dodges a swing and gets him in the ribs. Theo goes from behind and holds Caleb in a lock, “don’t you ever fucking try that you mud blood,” Matteo growls as he lands punches mercilessly. “Let him go he’s mine,” Theo steps back and Matteo tackles him to the floor.

Caleb gets Matteo breaking blood, a small stream coursing on his face. “Stop! Teo stop you’re going to kill him!” You yell. “Stop him Theo!” You jerk your head to Theo who’s watching happily taking a drag from his cigarette. 

“No this is all him,” he chuckles. Matteo’s knuckles are covered in blood and the boy isn’t responding any more. Face swollen and already purpling. After a second of two, Theo pushes off the tree, “alright I’m bored. Get off Matteo,” Matteo grabs Caleb's shirt and pulls him close, he says something that you can’t hear and then pushes him down.

He looks up at you as he gets up. “You okay?” He says quietly. His breath is erratic, a wild excited look fills his dark eyes. “You didn’t have to do that,” you start.

“A thank you would be polite,” he says sarcastically, approaching you. You can smell the blood and mint and he exhales from his mouth. Without you realizing your hand goes up and swipes his split lip, wiping some blood away. Suddenly he stops you by your wrist mid air. He takes you in close. He towers over you, “thank you,” you whisper. You’re released and snap out of the trance. Theo offers his blunt, taking it you relax as the smoke cradles you. “You caught me,” you laugh, not sure how to process those brief seconds you were scared for your life. 

“What’s the prize?” Theo teases, raising an eyebrow. 

“Come here and I’ll give it to you,” you joke. Well you thought you were joking until his shadow blocks the light of the moon and his black eyes gleam cravingly. You pull his head down, he opens his mouth slightly. You kiss him. His hands wrap around you and his tongue dominates your mouth. Ravaging your lips. Wanting to play with them like they did you, you break apart he looks disappointed at this. You put the blunt to your lips and breathe, exhaling as you eye Matteo who’s looking jealous at the scene in front of him. “And you,” you direct at him. Already your panties are wet with the idea of having them both. At the same time. 

Pansy would laugh her ass off, you think humorously. 

He comes to you with his hands snaking to your ass as he pulls you in close. He licks his lips, his eyes hooded heavily in lust. His kiss was determined. He wanted to show you. Force you to see that he’s the one you need. Behind you you feel Theo press himself into your ass, already growing harder you feel his dick on your back making you gulp. Reaching for him you pull his face into your neck, obediently he places hurtful kisses and bites up and down it. Matteo’s hot body firmly pushes you to Theo. Matteo’s hand needs your tits, as Theo’s moves down in front to your panties, his cold hands play between your wetness. You moan as you're over-stimulated. Turning your face to take Theo’s lips and bite. A clash of teeth and tongue. “You’re so wet for us bunny,” he moans. Matteo distances himself and looks at you both. Staring. He gets turned on at the idea of you entangled in his best friend's hands. He envisions himself giving you unbearable pleasure. How it’s hard to restrain himself and take you all for himself. “Take it off. Now.” He crosses his arms glaring at you as you make eye contact with him. Theo breaks away. First your pants fall to the floor. Your nipple hardens evermore at the chill and pure neediness. “More,” Theo presses. Lifting your shirt over your head that joins your pants on the floor. Tantalizingly you undo your bra. Then look through your lashes as you take off your pink panties.

They inhale at the sight of your beautiful naked body, both of them on the edge of tearing you apart. Your skin buzzes excitedly as you get on your knees in front of them. Your mouth starts salivating at the thought of having them both. “Want us both?” Matteo provokes. You nod your head, your hands eager to undo their belts. 

“Greedy little bitch,” Theo takes your hair and pulls it harshly. Your clit is crying to be touched, throbbing painfully. You can’t take it anymore. An unspoken agreement went between the boys, Matteo took you and Theo stood and watched. You have no time to react as you're thrown down, you hear the jingle and zipper coming undone. His hand palms your ass bruising it, you feel him slide his large tip up and down your slit, pushing in slightly then pulling out. Sexual frustration builds in you so much that you press your ass to him. “Needy little whore,” he chuckles as he thrusts himself in. Your back arches as he unfurls his hatred for you. There is no gentleness in his thrusts, none. He takes his hand to your front and starts edging you to your orgasm. Circling fast then slowly, taking you almost to the top then lets you settle down. Over and over he plays these cruel games. Theo eyes flare up as you look at him, eyes half open as if drugged by the sex, mouth open, you pant and moan. 

“You sound so pretty,” he crouches down, clearing a loose strand of hair, tucking it delicately behind your ear. He kisses you then stands up taking off his belt. “Take this Matteo, give her a lesson or two about power,” he hands his belt to Teo. He releases his grip from you and snaps the belt. The loud snap echoes in the dark.

 The Ritual so sexual and forbidden, it inspires even the most demonic of creatures. 

Matteo lets the belt hit you once, twice, three times each time, stinging more than before. You’re going to hate sitting down tomorrow. Theo comes back into your sight, his hard cock begging to be released. 

“Open wide bunny,” Matteo commands, setting down the belt and going back to circling your clit feverishly. As you come opening your mouth to let out sounds of pleasure Theo thrusts his dick into your mouth. His hands steady your head as he face fucks you, “fuck you’re better than I’d ever imagined,” you see sweat build on his forehead. “Look at you, such a beautiful little whore,” he wipes the strands of hair that are plastered to your face. 

“Fuck- God y/n you feel like heaven,” Matteo brakes out, as his own fucking doesn’t slow. You're so full that you start to feel another build up, it’s too much. It’s just enough. It’s not enough. Delirium comes over you as you cunt throbs, and you can breathe. The boys’ moaning and animalistic fucking sounds like a symphony to you. You cry out as you come again losing all control of your body. Theo finishes and wipes his come from your lips and you lick them clean as told so. Matteo’s nails mark you as he finishes ruthlessly. 

All three of you are a mess. Theo offers you a hand to stand up as Matteo helps you dress, picking out leaves from your clothes. Both treating you like a queen. You are lost, and they guide you back. “We found her! The Queen of Slytherin!” Theo takes your hand and bows. You are absolutely bamboozled at the fact that there were students playing tag and that they’re all cheering not knowing what just happened. Pansy yelled happily and you just nodded, thanking people as you passed by and headed to bed.

Because God knows the pain you’ll be in tomorrow.

[imastrangeone98]

Enough

(A/N: yes to blade, yes to everything about him 🩵)

WARNING: extremely ooc!blade cuz stoic men are hard to write, fem!reader, smut smut, minors get the hell out of here or I'll smack u to Heaven and back; more plot than there should be tbh; also y/n lowkey being the stellaron hunters' favorite member XD

Being alone with Blade in the hideout is not how you wanted to spend your day, yet here you are.

Agonizing over the lack of Kafka and Silver Wolf (your two greatest- and only- friends in the Stellaron Hunters) helps distract you as you sweep the floor of the Hunters' newly occupied hideout.

It also helps keep your mind off your unexpected companion... the man you've been trying to avoid for the past few weeks.

It's not that you didn't like him- quite the opposite, in fact. Your feelings for the broody swordsman were... complicated. Of course he was visibly attractive, as well as emotionally volatile; you'd be blind to not notice it.

But you grew to enjoy seeing his reactions to the smallest of things- from his disgust at the tomatoes in his sandwich, to the smallest curl of his lip at the sight of a whetstone for his sword, to the faintest glimpse of peace in his eyes when he watches the sunset.

You grew to love him. How could you not fall for the sensitive soul who secretly fed the stray kittens near the base, who joined Silver Wolf on the couch to watch her play games, who quietly thanked you every time you patched up the wounds his healing factor could not, even though it was your job?

Your heart blooms when you're near him. But you know better than to think he feels the same way.

Kafka had told you of his reasons for joining the Hunters: a thirst for revenge against all who wronged him, and the undying desire for eternal sleep. His path of vengeance meant no room for any unnecessary things, you included.

You will never be a part of Blade's world.

So you keep your feelings under lock and key, choosing to ignore the fluttering of your heart whenever he helps you with the dishes, when he silently joins you on your trips to the market for groceries, even when he hands you a small souvenir from whatever planet his mission was in.

"Bladie certainly likes to give you special treatment," Kafka had teased you once as she helped blow dry your hair. "Any more of his flirting, and I might just have to fight him for attention~"

"Oh please, be serious, Kaf." You rolled your eyes at the thought. "Blade would never be interested in romance, especially with a dime-a-dozen medic like me. Besides, have you seen the way he looks at that bracer?"

"Well, if he doesn't want you, I don't mind picking up the slack~"

You smacked her for that. But even though she hadn't used her Spirit Whisper on you that day, her words stayed in your mind long after the conversation was over.

Her voice echoed in the back of your mind after that night, when you had encountered him broken and lost in the middle of the night, aching from pains you could not understand. You had taken him in your arms, unable to watch him suffer, and sung him to slumber, watching as his eyes slowly drifted closed as he relaxed in your hold.

Putting him to bed was no easy task, but it was when you were about to pull away that your problem truly began.

"Stay," Blade whispered, soft and drowsy- a sound you didn't think him capable of. It left you speechless, even as he pawed at you to pull you closer to him. "Stay here tonight."

The warning to stay away should have rung in your mind. But when he gazed at you with wide, almost desperate eyes, you could not say no. And so you stayed that night, his head resting on your chest, falling asleep to the sound of your racing heartbeat.

You shouldn't have. Because now you're stuck in this situation, trapped in a corner, with the man haunting your thoughts hovering above you, a dangerous gleam in his eye that sends a shiver down your spine.

"C- can I help you?" you squeak out, a bead of sweat on your forehead. "I'll get started on dinner pretty soon-"

"You are very difficult to get a hold of." Blade cuts you off, leaning closer to you, nose brushing against yours. "Now you have nowhere to go... and no one to hide you."

You gulp. Aeons, you wish Kafka and Silver Wolf were here right now.

"You've been avoiding me. Why?"

Your cheeks feel hot at his question. Is he really that daft? (No, he isn't. He just likes seeing you flustered; but you don't have to know that just yet.)

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you splutter. He stares at you, exasperated. "I'm treating you just as I always do!"

"...You're terrible at lying." He sighs and finally leans away from you; you hadn't realized you were holding your breath. But you're still not off the hook, because he slides a finger under your chin and tilts your head to maintain your gaze on him. "Since you're not willing to be honest, I will. You disappearing in the morning wasn't particularly... enjoyable for me. And here I thought we were getting close."

Blade lightly scratches your chin, and aeons, if your face wasn't hot before, it's burning now.

"If you didn't like me, you could have just said so. I thought-" He stops himself, but his wide eyes speak the words he cannot vocalize.

Your heart threatens to burst. You have tell yourself it's not real. There's no way this is real. Blade does not like you. Blade is not capable of love. He desires only revenge against the many who wronged him, against the one who holds the other half of his bracer, the key to his heart.

Blade does not love you. He loves only what you briefly gave him because he lacked so much of it in his mysterious past that he instinctively reached out to the first person who gave him scraps of what he deserved.

And that knowledge breaks your heart.

"...You don't know what you're saying," you say stiffly, your grip on the broom tightening. "You must be confused. When Kafka returns, I'll ask her to use her Spirit-"

"Stop," he growls, pressing against you once more. He's so heavy he nearly squeezes the air from your lungs. "I don't know what you're thinking, but that's enough."

Aeons, you're insufferable. Yet he can't stay mad at you, not when your expressions are so cute. He gently cradles your face, fingers lightly tracing your cheeks, the corners of your eyes, your soft lips.

He wants to kiss you. He wants to know if you taste as sweet as you look. If your voice is just as sweet singing his name as you sing your songs that soothe his soul, his mara, better than any of your healing balms or even Kafka's Spirit Whisper.

"Why won't you let me in, you stubborn woman?" Blade whispers, eyeing your confusion, your hurt that he doesn't understand. "What pains you so, that you won't even look at me?"

You grit your teeth. How can you tell him that what pains you is the very thing that brings his immortal life meaning? That you're just trying to make his life easier by not interfering with his plans with your own, temporary issues?

But nothing comes out except a half-hearted, "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

"Bullshit," he hisses. "Everything you do concerns me. Your existence concerns me."

Your hands squeeze into fists. "And why's that? Am I that much of an inconvenience to you?!"

His lips curl into a pained smile. "Like you wouldn't imagine. You make me think of things that I don't need..." He glances down at his feet for a brief, long second, then looks back at you. His eyes are aglow with something you can't describe. "That I don't deserve to think of."

For as much as you want to harden your heart, Blade's words make your attempts meaningless. It's so full of fear and longing that you want to reach out and touch him, hold him close to your heart and never let him go.

You swallow, somehow feeling more nervous than before at what you're about to ask. But you want to know. You need to know, for your poor heart. "...And what is it that you think you don't deserve?"

His gaze softens. Blade leans down once more, and you feel his breath on your lips. He smells nice, you think hazily. Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed, too hyper aware of everything- his scent, the gentle brush of his fingers on your chin, the flecks of gold in his eyes.

"You," he whispers, and softly presses his lips to yours.

He's warm against you. His arms are strong as they wrap around you, pulling you into his firm chest. Before you're fully swept into the storm that is Blade, a funny thought flits through your mind: for a man with such a sharp name, he feels so warm in your arms.

He groans against your mouth, hands moving to your cheeks, coaxing your lips open to slide his tongue inside, feeling every part of you. You're so soft, so sweet, so perfect- he swears that you must have been crafted by the aeons themselves to fit his taste, to his hold. He has to fight against every cell in his body to not rip your clothes off and take you against the filthy walls. As badly as he wants to taste you properly, he needs to move this elsewhere. You deserve better than the cold corner he trapped you in. (And if Kafka shows up early, he doesn't want her to witness the filthy things he wants to do to you. But the marks he'll leave... That's fair game.)

When he finally pulls away, you're left breathless, chest heaving, and your lips tingle with the heat of his own. Blade nuzzles against your neck, and leaves kisses down your throat.

"Come on," he whispers against your skin, and tugs at your sleeve. "Stay with me tonight."

It feels too good to be true. You should be more suspicious. Blade does not love. Blade does not care for love. He does not love you.

He doesn't...

But he smiles at you- a soft, innocent smile that tugs at the corners of his eyes- and you fall into him, helpless.

When he offers you his hand, you don't hesitate to take it.

Maybe you're too hypnotized by him, but time melts into one hazy fog of memories. He's gentle- leading you to his room, lying you down on his bed, peeling off your clothes, piece by piece, until you're left bare and wanting. He stares at you hungrily, but he makes no move to devour you just yet.

He's slow, too. Watching him remove his garments- untying his belts and vest, sliding off his glove, unwrapping his bandages- it was torture. You huff, displeased, and reach out to him to lend a hand, but he lightly smacks it away, a playful smirk on his face.

"Patience," he teases, "and I'll give you what you want... and more."

To drive his words home, he moves even slower. By the time he's kicked off his shoes and pants, you've given up on being patient and paw at his boxers, much to his amusement. His cock finally springs free, and you gulp- it's big. Thick at the base, you wonder how it'll fit you. But you can't resist the temptation to lean forward and lick the tip. He groans above you, hands resting on the back of your head to push you further against his groin.

You're so cute. He watches you, hearts in his eyes, slurping away at his cock, clumsy hands rubbing at the parts you can't fit. You reek of inexperience, but it's okay. He has more than enough time to teach you, and he'll enjoy every second of it.

But for now, he lets himself relax and enjoy the warmth of your throat. The urge to cum rises its head, but he pushes it back. Not yet. Not until he feels you properly. (But he can't deny the mental image of his seed dripping from your mouth is incredibly arousing.)

It's when you begin to choke on his length that Blade pulls himself out of his pleasure-induced stupor, and he pulls you off of him to lay down on his bed. He follows you, resting on one arm above your head while his other hand trails down your neck, to your breasts (sparing a few seconds to fondle and squeeze each one), down your belly to your thighs, lightly tapping your wet mound.

"I'm gonna stretch you out now," he says, making sure you're paying attention to him. "Or it'll hurt when I go in."

It hits you: he's done this before. The bracer flashes in your mind. For a brief moment, you think to pull away and return to your room alone, to lick at the wounds to your sensitive pride.

But you hear him call to you, soft kisses being pressed onto your cheeks, and you are pulled away from the storm into his solid embrace.

"You're thinking again," he sighs, and he moves to kiss the corner of your mouth. "Whatever it is, think of it tomorrow. Just let me in; look at me."

Blade rubs his cheek against yours, giving you a reassuring look, then you feel his fingers, long and calloused, brush against your sensitive hole. You gasp at the unfamiliar feeling and squirm, but he keeps you firm, kissing you deeply to distract you from the way they slowly press inside you.

Your walls are tight. Blade wants so badly to pull his fingers out and devour you from the source, slurp up every last drop of your essence. But he grasps hold on the last few strings of his unraveling patience, not giving in to his desires just yet. He needs to do this, lest you cry in pain when he finally pushes inside you. So he finds solace in your softness, in the rhythmic squeezing of your silky cunt, carefully stretching you out.

A tear slips out of your eyes at the painful pleasure, and he kisses it away. "There we go. You're ready," he murmurs, pulling his fingers out, your whines at the emptiness music to his ears. He brings them to his mouth, sucking off your juices and moaning at the taste.

"Don't... don't do that," you whimper beneath him. You stare at him so innocently, he wants to ruin you. "It's yucky..."

"It's you," he corrects you, and he adjusts himself so he's between your legs. He smooths his hands down your thighs and positions his cock right at your entrance. When the tip catches onto your hole, you both sigh in pleasure. "Nothing about you is 'yucky.'"

With that, he finally- finally thrusts inside you. You yelp at the intrusion- he stretched you out, but aeons, it's still painful... and he's still not fully inside you. Whimpering, you claw at his scarred shoulders, nails raking down his back. He groans at the sting, leaning down to kiss you, unable to escape your addicting lips.

He can't move. He's trapped by the tightness of your pussy, your wet warmth distracting him from the main course. But your cries of his name pull him out of that haze, reminding him of what he needs to do.

"You're okay," he manages to heave out, cupping your cheek before pressing his chest to yours, mouth smushed against your ear. "I'm here. I'm gonna move."

You whine a weak "Blade..." but he shushes you.

"Ren."

"...What?" you ask hesitantly.

"My name. My real name. Ren."

"...Ren."

Oh, aeons. Your voice is so beautiful saying his long-forgotten name, he nearly came inside you. But he works up the strength to push his cock deeper, until his hips meet yours with a wet slap.

You wail, chanting his name- his true name- as he builds up a semi-steady rhythm. And he makes love to you, for aeons knows how long, hypnotized by your sounds, your smell, your touches on his body as you scratch at him and bite his neck, as if leaving your mark on him. (He wishes he didn't have his healing factor. He wants your scratches to last. He wants to look at them in the morning.)

You manage to cradle his face in your palm and turn him towards you. You take the time to admire him- his gorgeous red eyes, his bare chest gleaming with sweat, his long hair forming a curtain around you, narrowing your sight to him, and only him. So it's just Blade.

No... Ren.

Your heart clenches at his amorous gaze, as if showing his devotion to you, and only you. You do not know if he loves you... if he is capable of loving you. You do not know if he will come to regret this come morning. But you will embrace him, and smile at him, like you do now.

Because you love him. You cannot deny it anymore. You love Ren.

"Ren..." you call out once more.

And he answers you. "Yes." His voice is breathy, and his touch gentle, for he cups your cheek in his hand and rubs soft circles into your sensitive skin.

He may not love you, but you love him. And that is all you need. And you let your love consume you.

"Ren."

"Yes."

You say his name so much you lose count. And he responds every time, sometimes with words, sometimes with his lips. Until he grabs your thighs and folds you nearly in half, hips now slamming into yours as he buries his length inside you even deeper than you thought possible. Your eyes cross and you howl at how impossibly deep he feels, pressing buttons you never knew existed.

Blade moans, drunk on his pleasure, on your sweet, sweet pussy. He feels that unfamiliar tightness in his loins, his balls aching for release. But he needs you there with him, standing at the edge of that cliff right by his side.

"'M close," he whispers hoarsely. His hand flies to your hidden pearl, rubbing at your clit through your folds. You whine pitifully, but this time, he pays no heed. "I need you, come on, I need you-!"

The burning warmth in your gut spreads faster at his rough administrations. You squeal at how sensitive you feel, but you can't outrun it. The heat reaches to your limbs, your eyesight is hazy, and all you see, feel, smell, know is Ren.

Ren, who grasps hold of your hand, urging you to jump off with him. And aeons, he looks so beautiful doing it.

You can't help the words that slip past your mouth: "I love you."

And you jump. You plummet into the canyon, hands intertwined, and you're swept under the waves of indescribable ecstasy that makes you see galaxies. You feel warm, much like the ropes of warm seed that fill you.

Your mind is foggy, but Blade's sighs of pleasure are clear and bright. You feel him thrust inside you, once, twice, four times, before collapsing on top of you. He nuzzles into your neck, taking in lungfuls of your scent, committing it to his memory so he can never part from it.

With shaking arms, you manage to run your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp and untangling the soft strands, trying to shake your sudden nerves as you realize what you just said in the throes of your first orgasm.

I love you.

But if he noticed, then he hasn't spoken up about it. Instead, he shudders at your touch, pushing his head further into your hands, a silent urge to continue. So you do, until your eyes can no longer stay open, and your hands fall limp in his hair.

He pushes himself up and gathers you in his arms, pressing you to his chest, close to his pounding heart. And he takes the time to admire your drowsy form, so vulnerable and soft, so trusting.

"You terrify me," is all he can whisper before he joins you into slumber.

Because you make him not want to seek death. But he knows he must search for it, now more fervently than before. So that when your time inevitably comes...

...He will be able to follow you.

[...]

"It seems like you and Bladie have been rather close these days~ Have you two finally fucked and made up?"

You blush at Kafka's stupidly accurate teasing. "Don't say it like that! We just... had a talk, that's all."

Your friend eyes the hickies on your neck with amusement. "Sure... a talk with teeth~"

"Kafka-"

"When's dinner? Are you gonna make pasta?" Silver Wolf pops up out of nowhere, eyes fixed on her game.

"Do you want pasta?" you ask her with a laugh. She can be so childish sometimes, but you love her nonetheless.

"Yeah. I like your pasta." The gamer moves to sit next to you, but her chosen spot is suddenly occupied as Blade slides in beside you. He gives you a knowing look, before sending a cocky smirk at Silver Wolf, who pouts and complains to Kafka.

You cackle at the sight before you, and slowly rest your head on his shoulder. Blade says nothing, but the way he shifts his body for your comfort and wraps an arm around you tells you everything. You close your eyes in bliss, ignoring the chatter between your two friends as Silver Wolf decides to make a spot on your lap.

Blade is warm beside you. That is enough.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: this b*tch took all my wishes but it's ok I love him. I'll hopefully be able to save enough for Dan heng's dragon form *wink wonk* also I'm reassuring myself that no matter how bad this is, hbo's the idol is far far worse 😃

[thequeenviana]

Inkbound

Chapter 3

Pairings:

Yandere Taehyung x OC x Yandere Jungkook

Warning: This story is a work of fanfiction and is purely a product of the author's imagination. It does not depict any real-life events or individuals. While some characters may be inspired by real-life idols, their portrayal in this story is fictional and not representative of their true selves. Please note that this story may contain triggering content, including themes of abuse, gore, murder, humiliation, bullying, rape, and other mature and dark themes. Reader discretion is advised, especially for those under the age of 18. If you are uncomfortable with such content, it is recommended to refrain from reading and kindly disregard this story.

Fae laughed softly, her eyes twinkling as she closed them and savored the warmth and serenity of the water in the bathtub. The scent of rose petals filled the air, and delicate candles flickered, creating a soothing atmosphere.

She allowed herself to relax, momentarily forgetting the strange and unsettling situation she found herself in.

In the midst of her peaceful immersion,

'Noona.'

Fae was startled back to reality upon hearing her brother's voice. Her eyes flew open, and she sat up abruptly in the bathtub, desperately looking around hoping to catch a glimpse of her brother,and this made her got teary in longing to her family.

"Jae," she whispered, her voice laced with both longing and sadness.She couldn't help but cry once more. She yearned for her family, yearned for the familiarity and comfort they provided. In this moment, all she wanted was to escape the clutches of the dark magic or whatever force had transported her into this unpredictable realm.

The sound of a gentle knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present.

"Young Madam, your friend Gia is here."

Fae turned her attention towards the door, slightly disoriented as she tried to remember the this particular character.

"Gia?" she murmured to herself. The name eventually clicked in her mind.

' Gia was one of Yana's close friends, someone who had always stood up for her, especially during times when someone was bullying Yana, especially those two. Memories of Yana clinging to the two men whom Fae now despised flooded her mind. They were undoubtedly attractive, but their hearts were far from desirable.'

"I'll be there in a minute," Fae replied to the maid's announcement. She stood up, wrapping herself in a fluffy bathrobe, and efficiently dried herself before getting dressed in comfortable clothes.

As Fae descended the stairs slowly, she caught sight of Gia, a character from the book, sitting on the couch. Gia looked up and see her friend that made her rushing towards Fae with open arms. Fae instinctively reciprocated the embrace, enveloping Gia in a warm hug.

"Oh God! I was so worried about you when I heard what happened! You stupid girl!" Gia chastised, playfully smacking Fae's head. Fae winced at the impact, rubbing the spot where Gia had struck her.

"Don't ever do that again! How many times do I have to tell you to stop being infatuated with those two jerks? They won't like you back!" Gia scolded, her voice infused with a caring, motherly tone. Fae chuckled in response.

"Yes, I won't make that mistake again," Fae declared with determination, surprising Gia to the core. This was the first time Fae had spoken with such conviction, and it resonated deeply.

Fae understood the reason behind her response. In the story, Yana would become furious and would throw tantrums when her friends expressed similar sentiments, feeling unsupported.

"Wait...can you repeat what you just said?" Gia requested, seeking confirmation. Fae playfully rolled her eyes before repeating her declaration.

"I said I will no longer be a naive girl running after a man for attention. We girls should not be the ones pursuing men; it should be the other way around...after us."

Fae walked towards the nearby couch, gracefully taking a seat and crossing her legs. Gia joined her on the opposite side, pouring a cup of tea for each of them.

"To the new you?" Gia proposed, raising her cup. Fae accepted the cup, her heart brimming with pride. They both lifted their cups towards the air as a symbolic toast to a fresh start.

"To the new me," Fae echoed before they both took a sip, savoring the warm liquid. They engaged in a conversation, allowing Fae to gather as much information as possible within the confinements of this strange world. She needed these details to plan her next steps effectively.

However, deep within her core, Fae continued to yearn for an escape from this madness. She held onto the hope of breaking free from this realm as soon as possible.

....

Fae woke up as the mansion was bustling, filled with maids and butlers scurrying around, more than she had ever seen before during her time here.

She stood near the elegant staircase, observing the flurry of activity as the staff cleaned and prepared for something she couldn't comprehend.

Curiosity piqued, Fae approached one of the maids who held a white cloth in her arms. The maid immediately bowed, eyes downcast, causing Fae to frown, but she quickly got to the point of her inquiry.

"What's going on?" she asked softly, trying not to startle the timid maid. She had noticed that many of the maids were afraid of her, likely due to her resemblance to Yana, but Fae had come to understand their fear.

The maid glanced up briefly, her eyes wide, before clearing her throat and responding, "Um, young madam, it's Young Master Jeon's birthday tomorrow. As you can see, everyone is busy preparing for the party."

Fae nodded in understanding. "I see," she replied, dismissing the maid with a wave of her hand. Boredom washed over her as she watched everyone diligently work on the party preparations.

"Bored?"

A voice from behind startled her, causing her to turn and glare at the smirking figure before her. She quickly stepped back, keeping her guard up, that made the man frown at her sudden action.

"What is it to you?" Fae retorted fiercely, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms defensively. The man scoffed and took slow steps towards her that made her step back more,intensifying Fae's apprehension.

"Y-yah!" Fae's voice trembled as she looked behind her, only to widen her eyes in fear. The staircase was just a few steps away, and if this man had any ill intentions, she could fall to her demise. The memories of what Yana had done to these people in the past flooded her mind, and she knew this man could be just as ruthless.

"I'm here to warn you, Yana," he whispered ominously, causing Fae to turn back and gaze at him in terror. Thankfully, he stopped walking, but the proximity still made Fae feel like death was closing in.

"Don't you dare pull any tricks on my birthday, understood?" he continued, his eyes now filled with murderous intent as he slammed his hands on the railing. Fae flinched at the sudden aggression, gripping onto his black jacket in sheer desperation to keep her balance.

"I won't even attend tomorrow because Namjoon and I have plans—"

Overwhelmed with distress and desperation to escape, Fae burst out, not considering the consequences of her words.

"What?"

The man stared at her, momentarily speechless.

'She's not going? She's going to ditch my birthday with that man? How dare she—wait, maybe it's for the best—'

"Jungkook—"

Their attention shifted downward as a new voice emerged. Nara stood at the foot of the stairs. Jungkook backed away from Fae as if she were a dangerous object, unknowingly causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground thankfully not on the staircase. She winced in pain as her knees hit the tiled floor, tears streaming down her face at the painful impact.

Jungkook didn't spare her a glance as he descended the stairs and hastily led Nara away, fearing that Fae, or Yana as they assumed, may hurt Nara again.

Left alone, Fae silently cried, clutching her throbbing knees, feeling the burn of the fall.

Fae wiped away her tears as she gently caressed her aching knees, now bruised and swollen. Lost in her pain, she didn't notice someone crouching beside her until they reached out and lifted her off the floor. Startled, she let out a shriek, her eyes meeting the gaze of the same man who had intervened earlier to prevent her escape two days ago.

She looked down, unable to comprehend why the pain she felt in her knees was causing such deep heartache. Her chest throbbed with an intensity she couldn't understand as she witnessed Jungkook leaving her in pain, not bothering to look back as he rushed away with Nara. Fae didn't love him, but she understood now that the woman whose body she inhabited held strong feelings for him. It frustrated her that she couldn't control the emotions that surged within her in this unfamiliar vessel.

Leaning against the man's broad shoulders, Fae silently cried, but the man remained silent, steering her away to some unknown destination. Anywhere was better than staying in that place,as she can't take the pain anymore.

The man's voice cut through the silence, his words heavy with concern as he gently laid Fae on the bed. Moving to the corner of the room, he retrieved ice cubes from a small fridge, wrapping them in a towel before tending to her bruised knee.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" he inquired softly, his gaze fixed on her as she stared down at her injury. Fae nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, it does," she admitted, her eyes reflecting the pain she felt.

"I'm not talking about your knees, I'm talking about what he did," the man's voice lowered, his tone filled with empathy as he knelt before her, applying the cold compress to her bruised skin. Fae's gaze drifted to the window, lost in a swirl of emotions.

"I hate it but can't help but feel it," Fae confessed, her voice tinged with sorrow and resignation. The man's chuckle cut through the somber atmosphere, his understanding evident in the way he comforted her.

Removing the ice pack, he settled beside her, a silent presence in her moment of turmoil. With a heavy sigh,

"I told you before,stop that before it escalate to you being hurt."

he reminded her of his earlier warnings.

Fae's brow furrowed at his words, suddenly her sight blurred and a memory like scene was flooding in her mind in a rush.

**

"Oppa,why can't you love me!"

A young girl's anguished cry pierced the air as she bursts though the door confronting a boy engrossed in his studies. Tears streaked her cheeks as she poured out her heart, demanding his love. His blank and cold ignorance ,shattered her hopes more, when he doesn't even react.

He sighed finally and looks at her with a blank look as always,

"Yana,we can't."

The boy said coldly that made her cry more.

"But I love you!and you said you love me too!"

She yelled at the boy who just sighed at her.

"Yes,I love you but as a sister."

He declared and looks away from her towards his books again.

Yana shook her head at his declaration and bursts out the door crying heavily at her first heartbreak.

She walks down the slowly through the dim lighted corridor as she whimpered and cries silently

In the shadows, another figure was standing that made Yana stop on her track and looks at the figure before rushing to the person who had now his arms opened wide, inviting her.

She hugs him tightly as she cried in his embrace.

"You should stop, Yana,before it hurts you more in the future."

***

Fae gasped as she sat up suddenly, as the scene before her dissolved into nothingness.

The man stood in front of her, his expression filled with concern as he observed her sudden awakening.

"Are you alright? You suddenly lost consciousness," he inquired, relief evident in his voice.

He reassured her that her father had understood and believed her need for rest, allowing her to take a nap. Fae nodded, feeling her heartbeat gradually calm as she noticed that night had descended upon the world outside. Time seemed to be passing more swiftly than she anticipated.

"Well, I should be going. Thank you, sir," Fae expressed her gratitude, rising from the bed. The man quirked a playful smile and stood up as well.

"Sir? What's with the formalities lately?" he chuckled, shaking his head lightly.

Fae blushed, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "Um, you see... I've been experiencing some memory loss after everything that has happened."

As she averted her gaze, the man's eyes softened. "Kim Seokjin... Yana, but you always just call me Jin."

Fae looked up, meeting his gaze. Memories flooded her thoughts and she acknowledged the connection Yana had with Jin.

"Yeah, Jin. Um, I should go then. Goodnight," Fae said, preparing to leave the room.

"Goodnight, Yana," Jin responded, watching her quietly as she stepped out through the door.

....

Fae stumbles through the dimly lit hallway, her steps cautious and filled with apprehension. The oppressive atmosphere weighs heavily on her, suffocating her with its darkness.

As she nears her room, a sudden jolt of terror strikes her. Powerful, rough hands clamp tightly over her mouth, silencing her cries for help. Another hand, large and forceful, wraps around her small waist, pulling her forcefully towards an unknown room.

Fae desperately struggles, her fingers clawing at the assailant's arms, but her efforts prove futile against the strength of her captor.

Finally released, Fae whirls around, hastily putting distance between herself and the man. Fear grips her every fiber, her heart pounding loudly at her chest. But the man advances, closing the gap between them with predatory intent. Every instinct in her screams to flee, to escape the clutches of this menacing figure.

Before Fae can scream for help, a sudden,sharp object grazes her neck, and she freezes, terror pulsing through her veins. She meets the man's gaze, her eyes widening as recognition dawns upon her.

"T-Taehyung?" Fae's voice quivers, her fear palpable in the darkness.

A sinister smile curls at the man's lips, his voice a dark venomous whisper.

"You whore."

The words cut through Fae like razor-sharp blades, causing tears to well up in her eyes. She trembles, unable to comprehend the depths of the darkness that now resides within Taehyung. The cold tip of the blade presses against her neck, drawing a thin line of blood. The metallic scent fills the air, intensifying the nightmare she finds herself in.

"When will you stop, huh?" Taehyung sneers, his voice dripping with malice and contempt.

Confusion and anguish cloud Fae's features, her voice breaking as she questions, "W-what did I do?"

Taehyung's laughter echoes through the room, a chilling sound that sends shivers down Fae's spine. He takes the knife, tracing its sharp edge across her delicate cheeks, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Fae winces, feeling the warm crimson fluid oozing from her once flawless skin. She watches in horror as Taehyung's grin widens, the sadistic pleasure evident on his face, reveling in the sight of her pain and vulnerability.

"I hate it Yana,I hate you,I hate what's happening with you and I hate it even if it's just two days but I hate it so much,I hate it that I miss your presence tailing me everywhere."

Fae's heart pounded in her chest as Taehyung's confession poured forth, his words laced with anger and bitterness.

She whimpered, the weight of his hatred and words crashing down upon her. His sudden change in demeanor sent shockwaves through her, leaving her bewildered and scared.

'This can't be happening,' Fae's thoughts raced. 'He's not supposed to feel this way. Is he losing his mind? Is he mad?!This isn't what I planned.'

Suddenly Taehyung's hands clenched tightly around her neck, cutting off her air supply. She fought desperately to pry his fingers away, gasping for precious breaths.

With a cruel laugh, Taehyung finally released his grip, flinging her to the floor. Fae's body convulsed as she coughed, her lungs desperate for oxygen.

Through tear-filled eyes, Fae watched Taehyung draw nearer, his presence looming over her prone form. He caressed her bruised cheeks, a sinister control in his touch. He held her face with an iron grip, forcing her to meet his enraged gaze.

"What were you doing with Seokjin?" Taehyung's voice dripped with accusation, his glare piercing her soul.

"I-He was just helping me!" Fae responded, her words rushed and desperate, her hand instinctively reaching for his.

Taehyung scoffed, gritting his teeth in anger and... jealousy.

Yes he was jealous,and he doesn't like it even a bit.

He despised this woman, yet the absence of her presence over the past two days had unhinged him. He found himself going mad, yearning for her scent and seeking her out, only to witness her in another man's arms. It ignited a flame of possessiveness and jealousy within him, irrational and consuming.

He hated it.

Suddenly, the realization hit him like a lightning bolt — he missed her. He loathed the way she had followed him incessantly, but the void created by her absence had driven him to the brink of madness. When he finally glimpsed her in another man's embrace, his anger had boiled over, fueled by an unfamiliar jealousy that consumed him from within.

As he learned of Yana seeking solace in Seokjin's room, his anger grew. The scenarios playing out in his mind intensified his fury. Night fell, and the thought of her still with Seokjin tore at his sanity.

Now, in this dark moment, he confronted Fae, unable to rein in his anger any longer. His booming voice reverberated through the room as he accused her of whoring around. Fae flinched, cowering in the corner as she tried to escape his wrath.

Taehyung's glare bore into her, radiating contempt and frustration. With a final venomous glare, he stormed out of the room, leaving Fae trembling and broken in his wake.

He doesn't know what further he can do to that woman if he remained in close proximity to her.

....

Fae's eyes fluttered open, her vision adjusting to the soft glow of a warm light bathing the room. A groan escaped her lips as she tried to sit up, feeling a dull ache resonating throughout her body. Confusion clouded her mind as she surveyed her surroundings, realizing she was on the floor of what appeared to be one of the guest rooms.

A deep frown etched itself on Fae's face as she attempted to remember how she had ended up in this unfamiliar place.

But the memories flooded back with a jolt, and fear coursed through her veins. The man's twisted actions and unpredictable behavior lingered in her mind, and a shiver ran down her spine.

"That man...he's deranged," Fae whispered to herself, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and realization.

As she recalled what happened last night, her heart raced with the intensity of her fright. This wasn't just a strange world she had stumbled into; this was now her reality, and she was living through the haunting nightmares that unfolded before her.

Fae couldn't bear to linger any longer, surrounded by this derange people and danger that seemed to lurk in every corner of this twisted realm. She knew she had to escape, to find a way back to her own life, away from the clutches of the darkness that threatened to consume her.

As Fae slipped out of the room, her eyes darted back and forth, being watchful to her sorrounding, afraid that man would came out of nowhere again and who knows this time he will kill her for good.

....

Fae let out a sigh of relief as she reached her bedroom door, her heart pounding in her chest. With a swift motion, she slammed the door shut and swiftly locked it.

She took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the room. As her gaze landed on the mirror, she couldn't help but be drawn to it, her reflection staring back at her with a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability. Tears welled up in her eyes, a flood of emotions overwhelming her as she took in her disheveled state. The bloodstains on her cheeks served as a painful reminder of the torment she had endured, and the realization hit her with a wave of despair.

Sobs escaped from Fae's trembling lips as tears streamed down her cheeks. The release of emotions brought a bittersweet relief, allowing her to process the trauma she had gone through. She despised the weakness she felt.

With a determined wipe of her tears, Fae scolded herself for wallowing in self-pity. She knew she had to regain her composure and take action.She entered her bathroom, ready to clean herself up and tend to her wounds. The water cascading from the faucet provided a soothing balm, washing away the dirt and scars that marred her skin.

Carefully, she dressed the wound on her neck, doing her best to conceal it from prying eyes.

Donning a jacket that provided some solace and hid her wounds, Fae looks at the window and took a deep breath.

Fae descended the staircase.The mansion was as always is bustling with maids as they get ready for the party tonight.

As she entered the dining room. The aroma of food wafted through the air.

She was grateful for the absence of others at the table.

As she silently ate her breakfast, a tremor ran through her when an abrupt impact shattered the stillness. A fist collided with the glass table, causing her to flinch instinctively. Fae's eyes darted up, only to see Jungkook,in a bad mood.

He pulled a chair infront of her,his mood evidently foul. Without even acknowledging her, he emanated a strong aura of displeasure. Fae hurriedly focused on her food, her heart racing, desperate to escape the intensity of his presence.

Her attempts to go unnoticed did not escape Jungkook's glaring eyes.His glare only intensified, his jaw clenched tightly together. A maid nervously served him the breakfast, aware of his turbulent mood. She knew the consequences of provoking him were dire. When Yana finished eating, she quickly rose from her seat, purposefully avoiding any interaction with the seething man.

This action was the final catalyst for Jungkook. He abruptly stood, anger coursing through his veins like a raging storm. He violently swept his arm across the table, sending dishes and silverware crashing to the floor. The room erupted in gasps of fear as Fae recoiled, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You!" Jungkook's voice thundered, directing his fury towards one of the terrified maids who stood on the brink of tears. The room fell into an expectant silence, awaiting his harsh words.

"Clean this up with your fucking hands, and don't you dare use any cleaning supplies!" he bellowed, his anger reverberating through the air.

Indignation blazed within Fae as she couldn't bear witness to his outbursts any longer. She couldn't control the impulse that overtook her.

"Yah!Jeon Jungkook can you stop with your spoiled tantrums!" Fae yelled, her voice laced with incredulity. However, regret quickly washed over her as she beheld the fire in Jungkook's murderous gaze now focused on her. She gulped, realizing the dangerous predicament she had placed herself in.

Fae screamed in terror,her voice echoed through the dinning room as Jungkook lunged towards her, his grip tightening around her arms, cutting off her desperate pleas for him to let her go.

Tears suddenly streamed down her face uncontrollably, a mixture of fear, pain, and trauma flooding her senses. This twisted and abusive treatment went beyond anything she had ever experienced before, shattering the illusion of safety and love that had surrounded her in her world.

Her cries grew louder as he forcefully dragged her down a dimly lit staircase, the shadows obscuring their path. Panic consumed her as she realized that he was leading her into the depths of darkness, to a place even more terrifying than her imagination could conjure. She sobbed, her voice echoing off the walls of the basement, begging him to release her, to show mercy.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears, met with brutality instead. In a moment of cruel force, he struck her with a resounding slap, sending her tumbling to the ground. The pain seared through her, intensifying her fear as she crumpled in a sobbing heap. Desperation gripped every ounce of her being as she surveyed the darkened room, her heart pounding with a primal terror.

Her cries escalated, reaching a crescendo of anguish as she watched a large spider slowly crawling towards her. Its grotesque form instilled a primal fear within her, triggering her deepest phobia. With a surge of terror, she scrambled towards the door, desperate to escape. But her hopes were crushed as Jungkook maliciously locked the door from the outside, leaving her trapped in the suffocating darkness.

Fae's cries turned into desperate pleas, her voice hoarse and filled with sheer desperation. She banged on the door, her pleas echoing through the basement, calling out for anyone to hear and rescue her. Yet, her appeals were met with silence. Her heart sank as the realization set in – she was alone, abandoned in this nightmarish place.

With each passing moment, Fae's strength waned, her tears drying as exhaustion washed over her. Fear still gripped her, but her body could no longer sustain the consuming panic. She slowly slid down to the cold, hard floor, her trembling body succumbing to the overwhelming darkness and the traumatic events that had unfolded. Her eyes now finally shuts,as she finally gets unconscious.

Jungkook's blank face contorted into a sickening grin, reveling in the power he held over Fae.

When it finally gets quiet in the basement he grins wide.

It's really sick in the head to admit but he's feeling euphoria in seeing her reduced to such a helpless state.

He relished the torment, the manipulation of her fears that had consumed him with a dark delight.He really loves to see her in this state.

Helpless.

With a psychopathic laugh, Jungkook slowly descended the stairs, creaking them with each deliberate step. He swung the door open, revealing Fae lying unconscious on the cold basement floor. A sinister gleam danced in his eyes as he observed her vulnerable state, relishing in the control he held over her.

He couldn't help but revel in his madness, fueled by a cocktail of emotions that consumed him. A mixture of anger, jealousy, and possessiveness swirled within him.

First,it was childish to say but he can't help but feel mad when she didn't greet him on his special day. Especially when he grows accustomed to her being the first one to greet him.

Then,how dare she to not attend his birthday party later,just to have a plan with someone,it fueled his anger more, as if she had dismissed his significance entirely.

But what drove him to the brink of insanity was her ditching his Birthday Party celebration with another man, and that too,Kim Namjoon. The jealousy burned deep within him, consuming him like an unquenchable fire.

He despised the notion of someone taking away what he considered his.

It shattered his carefully crafted control, awakening emotions he never thought he would feel.

It was a concoction of jealousy, possessiveness, and an unsettling desire to possess her.

Even with his past encounters and relationships, none had evoked such a visceral reaction within him as Fae's connection with another man.

He had never felt this level of jealousy before, not even with Nara, despite the numerous individuals who harbored feelings for that woman.

This newfound feeling awakened a dark side within him, threatening to consume him entirely.

As Jungkook knelt beside Fae's unconscious form, his eyes locked onto her face. A twisted need swelled within him, a desire to break her and make her his own. Madness danced on the edges of his consciousness, as he reveled in the control he possessed over her, the power to torture her with her fears and terrors.

The basement was engulfed in an eerie silence, broken only by the soft sound of his manic laughter. Madness enveloped him as he assessed the woman, his mind swirling with dark desires and intentions.

Jungkook couldn't explain this newfound possessiveness that gripped him, engulfing his thoughts and fueling his actions. It was as if an unyielding force had taken hold of him, driving him to claim and possess Fae in a way he had never experienced before.

With a heavy sigh, he cradled her unconscious form in his strong, tattooed arms, his steps purposeful as he ascended the stairs. The maids in the corridor looked on, a mix of fear and apprehension radiating from their trembling figures. Their gazes focused on Fae, the young madam who lay limp in Jungkook's grasp.

Pausing for a moment, Jungkook glared at the maids, and this now made them scramble away, afraid that they will be the next to receive his wrath.

...

He slowly pushed open the door to her bedroom, his movements deliberate and controlled. Gently, he placed Fae back onto her bed, his gaze fixated on her unconscious figure.

Standing up straight, Jungkook momentarily stared at her before turning towards the door. He paused, casting a final glance at the room, his presence lingering with a sense of foreboding.

"No way out, Princess," he whispered, a sinister tone lacing his words. With that final declaration, he locked the door from the outside, sealing Fae within her own chambers.

A dark smile curled upon his lips as he walked away, his steps confident and deliberate. Whistling a haunting, melodic tune as he walks away from the room.

[eris-snow]

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥

Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, quirk accident, angst

I haven't written for Bakugou for awhile, so go easy on me. "The quirk is called 'Numb'. It basically cuts off any feelings of the person that got hit."

It feels almost numb now, when you think about him.

It's scary, because when you look at Bakugou, ready to feel a pang of desire and aching yearning for the blond...

you feel as if you're grasping at straws.

It seems like Bakugou can sense it too, because he doesn't seem to accept it either.

"What the fuck did this villain do to my Dumbass?" He demanded, placing a protective hand on your shoulder as Aizawa stood at the doorway of the infirmary.

On a good day, you'd feel touched. Feelings would be bubbling in your throat at the simple gesture because you were always a little bit more emotionally sensitive than others. Too bad you felt nothing from that usually touching gesture.

"We just interrogated the guy. And, no Bakugou, this was not caused by you." Aizawa runs a hand down his face, continuing without missing a beat. "The quirk is called 'Numb'. It basically cuts off any feelings of the person that got hit."

Bakugou draws his hand away from your shoulder as if it touched a hot pan. "What?" His voice is barely over a whisper. Bakugou squats down at your eye level, face losing all blood and starting to colour in dread. "Is this true?"

You swallow, biting your lip harshly. You wish you could feel some form of guilt, but it's scarily faint. Still, you have an answer to give.

"I'm sorry." You rasp.

Sensing the teenage hormones, Aizawa stiffens visibly and launches himself out of the room. "I'll give you some privacy. Once Recovery Girl is done treating your wounds, I expect both of you to head back to the dorms immediately. No detours. No buts. Judging by your injuries, I will allow a day off from school. Midoriya will hand you your notes for tomorrow after school."

With that, the sleep-deprived teacher escapes from the ward.

Bakugou's eyes snap from the doors to yours, and you blink back blankly, trying for a sheepish smile. It didn't feel right.

Part of you knew what you felt for the blond. You knew you were supposed to love him because you always did. He treated you right, was faithful to you and even protected you from that blast today.

And now look where that got you.

You could barely feel grateful for what he did.

--

Bakugou was having the time of his fucking life right now. His lover has stopped feeling and it was all his fault. If he'd moved a little quicker, a little faster, you wouldn't have to deal with this shitty situation

The moment he stepped foot into the living room and lock eyes with you, there's a sense of wrongness that swallows him whole. There was always something in your eyes whenever you looked at him. Love, adoration and soft contentment as a smile graces your lips.

That look needs to be there.

He needs it to be there.

Instead, all he's greeted with is rapid blinking and a hesitant wave. "H-Hi?" You voice, and it makes Bakugou's hard heart crack.

"Hi," He repeats to you curtly, clambering over to the fridge and yanking the door open. He really hopes that this was over soon.

--

Bakugou tries to skirt around you for most of today, but his plans are thrown out of the window the minute lunch rolls around. Without thinking, he'd made double portions because he's so used to cooking for two ever since he got with you.

He contemplates leaving you alone and starting on his own, but the blond knows how you are. You're almost as bad of a workaholic as himself. Before Bakugou knows it, he finds himself standing in front of your door with a plate of your favourite meal in hand, knocking on the door and hoping for an answer.

"Dumbass!" He calls when you don't answer, knocking on the door again. "I have food."

He's replied with frustrated sniffles.

Fuck.

Bakugou knows he fucked up. But seeing you, curled up on your bed while hugging your knees shakes his entire body to the core. He let's himself in and places your plate of food on your table, immediately rushing to your bedside.

"Y/n?" He inhales, taking you into his arms as he pulls your head to his chest. "What is it? What happened?"

He keeps his questions minimal and tone-leveled because your tears just keep flowing and he has no idea how to stop it. You'd know, he reminds himself bitterly. You'd know how to comfort people, it's practically your second quirk. He can barely talk to preschoolers without scaring them away.

"Katsuki," Your voice is shaky, as if it could break back into sobs anytime. You clench his shirt tighter, eyes pearling with tears.

"I'm scared."

Bakugou's heart shrivels up even more as you continue talking. "I can't feel anything. It's fading away and I don't know how to make it stop-please make it stop just-" You look up to him shaking your head as you burst into sobs. "I don't wanna stop loving you."

You're scrapping at the bottom of the barrel, looking for love that is draining fast. And Bakugou sees all of it.

"You're not going to stop loving me," He soothes, hugging you tighter. He doesn't know if he's reassuring you or himself. "I love you." He says firmly. "We're going to get through this."

You want to nod your head. To trust his words because, isn't Bakugou always right? He is, isn't he? It's a universal law.

But it only makes you want to cry harder because when you hear those words, the words that cause you to feel all kinds of colourful emotions that you'd gladly let on display...

Your tears dry and your heart slows.

You feel nothing at all.

---

So...I'm back :)

[the-morningstar-family]

*starts humming from the vent the song "Frere Jaques" to calm Al down some. Imbues a little magic to bring more of a calming effect*

(Meanwhile, in the other room)

Uh. Hmm. Not the questions I was entirely expecting. Alright though, we'll start there. And yes, Angel. You are limited to PG questions. Mainly because Im Ace and dont want to deal with your questions about that stuff.

Let me re-introduce myself. *stands up a little straighter, voice gains a faint echo*

My name is everything and nothing and nothing is truly my name. I am everything and nothing and all that exists in between existance. I am the space between the start and the finish. I am the journey on your way to your goals. I am the guardian of the balence of this world, and the next, and the next.

See me. Look inside of my heart, and you will find a ravine; carved within the beauty of the darkness in between the light. I stand in the balance of complete and incomplete; I identify the echo of what is and what will be.

Simply put I am everything and nothing all at once. I do not exist unless I desire to, and yet I do not ever exist. I am but a Ghost among 'men.'

*bows slightly, and then looks a little weirdly at Nifty*

Considering I am a shape-shifting of sorts, but don't have a "gender" to begin with? I guess I'm pretty much Schrodinger's Bad Boy? Cause I'm neither a boy nor not a boy, and I'm neither bad nor not bad. *looks over at Vaggie* I know you're gonna ask what that means. I have a very small, very questionable set of morals. One of said morals is to protect the people I care about. That includes this hotel. I also can shape-shift. It's part of my main ability set called "Adaptus Magicae." I can obviously only use it when im solid, but it makes it so that I can adapt myself in any way to any situation.

Cool? Cool.

(:

Alastor: "'M fucking tired..."

Right, recovering from major injuries takes a lot out of one even without a panic attack.

Lucifer: "Yeah, like I said, you should sleep a bit more. Take a breather Hun.... Do you want me to stay?"

Alastor: "I'll kill you myself if you leave"

Lucifer: "Alright big guy, a 'yes' would've sufficed"

Alastor, defensive: "I had enough emotions for today. I won't tolerate more."

Lucifer: "Okay, okay. I'll stay. But go on and sleep.

Meanwhile

Angel Dust, feigning hurt: "I'm insulted that ya think that would be the adult questions I'd ask."

Nifty, excited: "Another bad boy!"

Husk rolls his eyes and grabs her before she can run all over the ... Creature? Whatever.

Charlie: "So you and Ceres don't really know eachother?"

Vaggie: "How come the hotel is included in your dubious morals?"

[joprompts]

chess (musical) starters. part one. *starters from the musical. adjust as necessary.

everybody's playing the game but nobody's rules are the same. nobody's on nobody's side.

all men have a weakness: his is that woman.

no one in your life is with you constantly. no one is completely on your side and though i move my world to be with him, still the gap between us is too wide.

no one can deny that these are difficult times.

knowing i want you, knowing i love you, cannot compare to my despair, knowing i've lost you.

they're not too polite.

who needs a dream? who needs ambition? who'd be the fool in my position?

don't get me wrong, i'm not complaining.

that's the problem. he's a brilliant lunatic, and you can't tell which way he'll jump. like his game, he's impossible to analyze. you can't predict him, dissect him, which of course means he's not a lunatic at all.

i've been a fool to allow dreams to become great expectations.

how can i love you so much yet make no move?

one of these days--and it won't be long--he'll know more about me than he should.

if it were love, i would give that love every second i had.

wasn't it good? wasn't he fine? isn't it madness he can't be mine?

i'm on the case, can't be fooled. any objection is overruled.

pity instead the careless mother, what she missed, what she lost when she let me go. i wonder, does she know?

pity the child who knew his parents.

if i knew from the start, why am i falling apart?

i'm not getting rich. my only interest is in something which gives me the chance of working with the best.

you have caused such grief i can't forgive this evil thing you've done.

if you walk out on me, you're really betraying your father. were he alive now he'd surely be dying of shame.

you're on nobody's side, but your own.

there will be days and nights when i'll want you more than i'll want to.

you and i, we've seen it all.

this is the one situation i wanted most to avoid.

the one i should not think of keeps rolling through my mind and i don't want to let that go!

what's going on around me is barely making sense. i need some explanations fast!

what if he saw my whole existence?

what we've just seen's a pathetic display from a man who's beginning to crack. he's afraid. he knows he isn't the player he was and he won't get it back.

once i had dreams now they're obsessions. hopes became needs. lovers possessions.

maybe it's best to love a stranger. well, that's what i've done. heaven help my heart.

who'd ever think it? such a very pretty setting. tell me what's the betting, very pretty plotting, too. no matter--i've done all your work for you.

i want to talk chess.

how'd we ever get this far before you showed me what you really are?

never lose your heart, use your head!

looking back, i could have played it differently. won a few more moments, who can tell?

not much is known of early days of chess beyond a fairly vague report.

where's daddy? dead or in the KGB?

when i was nine, i learned survival, taught myself not to care.

pity the child who twenty-five years on, finds her confidence gone!

how you've hated my success!

it's the only thing i can stay true to.

you got your tricks, good for you, but there's no gambit i don't see through.

there must be more i could achieve but i don't have the nerve to leave!

how can you let mediocrity win? you have one chance left. win for chess. you were five one up. now it's five all. get a grip.

i don't see anything outrageous about demanding what i'm worth.

chasing our hearts' desire, but we go on pretending stories like ours have happy endings.

did i plan doing all of this for the love of a man?

[mi-rae07]

Song Mingi : Burning Desire (Part 5/5)

Pairing : Song Mingi (Ateez) and named character (Moon Aeri)

_____________________

A/n : so guess what, there's going to be a second season to this fic. I'd thought of cramming it all into one season with five parts but that didn't happen. Since it's enemies to lovers it's taking more time than expected to put them together lmao. So I'll probably have a second season with more parts to this after some time.

That is, if all of you want it to happen. So please let me know whether you'd like a second season or just leave it at this. And if you have any suggestions on the story line you can tell me that too!

But thank you for reading (this part is also going to be a bit long lol) and I love you!

______________________

Mingi remebered everything that had happened even when he was in a hazy state of mind. The medicine didn't wipe away his memories, although it did make him more vulnerable. And now as mingi followed aeri to wherever she was leading him, mingi not only felt embarassed, but also angry at himself for having been so emotional.

His bestfriend had betrayed him, but mingi should've known, given han's actions and negligence towards him lately. And he had been the only one to know that aeri was stabbed on her leg, not the heart that day.

But now, looking at aeri entering mingi's office room, he'd realized he'd fallen into aeri's trap. She had taken pure advantage of the situation. He had forgotten how cunning she was, how manipulative she could be.

Aeri : what is your mother's name?

Mingi paused on his tracks as aeri shut the door behind them, sitting down on mingi's chair as she said nonchalantly

Aeri : are you not going to answer?

Did she just sit on his chair, leaving him to stand? Mingi let out a breath in part annoyance as he looked away before saying

Mingi : jung mi-seo.

Aeri : is she alive right now?

Mingi : what does that matter to you?

Aeri : are you really going to show me that attitude given our situation, love?

Mingi rolled his eyes as he whispered

Mingi : she's long dead.

Aeri : how did she die? Did you kill her?

Mingi : she killed her herself, now can we just stop?

Aeri sighed, leaning back against the chair as she said

Aeri : it's han, isn't it? The traitor? That's why you let yourself get stabbed.

Mingi hated his answer.

Mingi : yes.

Aeri : you have to find him, and kill him.

As if he wasn't already going to do that.

Mingi : is that an order, your majesty?

Aeri : yes it is.

Mingi : consider it done.

Aeri : there's more. After you have brought me his head on a spike, you need to leave.

Mingi : pardon?

Aeri : leave, mingi, you're going renounce being China's emperor and you're going to go back to Korea.

Unbelievable. Mingi scoffed as he said

Mingi : you think I'll do that?

Aeri : you think I can't kill you, then? Either you do this your way or I make you leave my way. But if it goes my way you will not only lose China and Korea, but also your own head. So do it the easy way, mingi, just leave.

Mingi : is that why you did all that when I was sick, your majesty?

Aeri looked at mingi as he walked closer, her realizing he was doing that thing that he always does, intimidate her through her own past actions. She wouldn't fall for it this time.

Aeri : did what?

Mingi : oh don't act clueless now. If I know of it, you definitely do.

Aeri : mingi-

Mingi : you called me that when I awoke from a nightmare, didn't you? It was what put me back to sleep. I responded well to the call once, you think I want you to keep calling me by my name?

Aeri chuckled, shaking her head as she said

Aeri : what are you going to do about it? Kill me? You aren't powerful enough to do that anymore, mingi. Because if you do that the soldiers will know who did it and then the people. They would burn you to death, humiliate you. And I know of your greatest fear now, mingi. It is to not live a life of glory, to not die with dignity. Being humiliated is your biggest fear.

Mingi clenched his jaw, closing his eyes as he realized aeri had done her research while he was away, and she was smart enough to have taken something away from it. Mingi should've killed her much sooner.

Aeri : we have a ball tonight.

Mingi : what?

Aeri : to celebrate you getting better, of course. So dress in blue, royal blue.

Mingi stared at aeri in part shock as she stood up, walking towards the door before saying

Aeri : that was your mother's favorite color, was it not? It is mine too.

______________________________

Aeri looked at the mirror as the maids rushed around her, getting her ready for the ball. It was a beautiful royal blue gown with gold linings and pearls on it, perfect for an evening ball celebrating the health of her husband. Mingi hadn't directly told her about his mother's favorite color, she had figured it out through research. While aeri was plotting the taking over of the nation's powers she had figured it would be a good idea to know how mingi had ruled for the past 5 years in Korea as it's sole king.

The Korean crown was known for it's diamonds on it, but mingi had had it all removed and replaced with the finest sapphires that could be found. And his royal photo, he was wearing a royal blue suit in it. Moreover, as aeri looked at her wedding ring she came to the realization that the sapphire was more emphasized than any other jewels on it, even the main diamond.

It was obvious the obsession he had with the color, and she figured it would be because of his mother. Now she confirmed it.

Aeri didn't trust anyone anymore, not even Mina. Which was why she hadn't told mina of her plan to take over the nation while mingi was unconscious. No one wanted a woman on the throne, so aeri was going to put her there herself. And the people would not be able to do anything.

Right now aeri would play the role of a dutiful and good wife who was happy her emperor has surpassed death. And then when mingi leaves after han, she is going to appear to be weak, she's going to blame mingi for leaving the kingdom and condemn him for being an unfaithful husband. That will gain the people's sympathy, and then, soon aeri will be on the throne. She will not marry again, and neither will anyone be able to force her.

She will be China's sole empress, as she was always meant to be.

Aeri let out a small smile as she looked at the mirror in front of her, knowing that her time had come.

______________________________

Mingi had never seen so much extravagance for a ball, and as he walked down the stairs with aeri's arm wrapped around his, the ministers below clapped for him, bowing at the sight of their emperor. Aeri smiled as she looked at mingi, her eyes indirectly telling him to not look so blanked out.

Mingi sighed as he nodded at the people around them, aeri almost dragging him to the home minister as he started conversing with them. Mingi stared at aeri as she started talking about something, smiling as if nothing was wrong.

He still remembered how nice he felt when aeri had held him in her hands, how warm she felt and how soothing her words were. No one had ever held mingi like that, no one had ever told him such kind words. Now mingi knew those words were nothing but a trap aeri had skillfully set to get rid of him. But even then, mingi's body still longed for hers, he wished she could run her hands along his hair again, put him to sleep.

Aeri : my love?

Mingi quickly looked at aeri as she gave him a knowing smile, mingi looking back at the minister as aeri said

Aeri : mr kim was just asking you whether you would return to court tomorrow.

Mingi : oh, yes. I shall be returning to my duties tomorrow, if god wills it.

Minister : that is good to hear, your majesty. We have missed you very much. The court has been empty all this while long as well, since, you know, the empress refused to leave your bedside and took care of state matters from your chambers itself.

Mingi looked at aeri with raised eyebrows as she smiled at the minister before saying

Aeri : I am a wife before I am an empress, minister. Now if you'll excuse us, we'll need to talk with the other ministers.

The minister bowed with a smile as aeri led mingi away from the home minister to the defense minister that was standing a few meters away from them. Mingi leaned down as he whispered

Mingi : so you did not even leave my side, my good wife?

Aeri : in their eyes, I did not. My plan had to be foolproof, husband, being a woman is not easy.

Mingi looked at aeri as the defense minister quickly bowed down at their presence, smiling as he started talking about something. Except mingi couldn't focus, aeri looked too beautiful in blue.

It was now his favorite color too.

______________________________

Mingi sat back against his chair as he took another sip of his wine, staring soullessly into the carpeted floor of the palace ballroom.

"You are too weak, my son, you will love anyone no matter how bad they treat you, like a street dog. They can hit you, bleed you, kill you, but you will still love them as if they've been an angel to you. Your heart is too fragile for this world, you will never be able to control it"

Those had been the very words that had caused mingi to lock his heart away, caging it in stone and never letting it control him. But then the world had called him cruel, they had called him a monster for it. So mingi had realized that the people were going to hate you no matter what you did so he'd learned to stop caring about that too.

And then he'd met aeri, the cold cruel empress of China who ruled only with her head, seeming to have no heart. And yet the people accepted her. Mingi had kept his heart away from her and her feigning actions, but then…then what was this feeling? Why-

Aeri : it is time to dance.

Mingi looked up at aeri, her gloved hand held out for him to hold. Mingi knew he had no choice so he kept the wine glass away before taking her hand, leading her to the dance floor as the band began playing a fast romantic tune. Aeri put her hand on his shoulder as mingi led the waltz, wanting to finish this as soon as possible.

Aeri : do you know something, mingi? While you were unconscious, I'd thought of killing you then and there.

Mingi looked at aeri as she smiled and continued

Aeri : I thought of taking a blade and stabbing it into the same wound I'd helped heal, watching you thrash around helplessly as you tried holding onto whatever was possible. Watching you bleed dry as the sun rose and your eyes turned soulless and your body cold as ice.

Mingi suddenly felt breathless as aeri twirled herself around him before holding his hand once again. For the others around they would seem as a happy couple, the lady hopelessly in love with all her heart eyes and beautiful smiles. Only the both of them knew the words the lady was saying with those same eyes.

Aeri : but then I thought, oh, but if I do that then the people will surely know that I killed my husband and they will burn me to death before throwing the ashes into the river. So I decided to wait.

Mingi tightened his grip on aeri's waist as he lifted her up, twirling her around before putting her back on her feet again.

Aeri : I could kill you even now, my love, and oh how much I wish I could. If only there weren't so many rules and protocols.

Mingi felt his head spin, the suit suddenly feeling too tight on his body as sweat dribbled down his forehead. Before aeri could say anything more mingi whispered

Mingi : let go of me.

Aeri : you cannot leave in between a dance, that is impolite.

Mingi : let me go, aeri! I do not want to continue this.

Aeri : you don't have a choice-

Aeri cut herself off as mingi forced himself out of her hold, turning around as he rushed out of the ballroom. The band suddenly stopped playing at that, the couples and people around looking at aeri in part confusion as she smiled

Aeri : the emperor felt too giddy from the wine, and the dance was getting too much for him physically all of a sudden. I shall take my leave too now, noblemen. I will see you all in court tomorrow, thank you for coming.

The people around bowed at her as aeri gave them all a last smile before walking out of the ballroom as well. She looked around the place for mingi as she saw him rushing towards the garden area, her quickly following him.

She soon paused in front of the fountain area as she saw mingi sitting at the edge of it, his pant cuff drenched in water as sprinkles of it decorated his face and body. Aeri lifted her skirts up as she walked towards him, the cold water now falling on her as well as she said to mingi

Aeri : do you not understand my words, mingi? I told you not to leave-

Mingi : go away.

Aeri scoffed, walking further to the edge of the fountain where mingi's back faced her as she said

Aeri : you think I'll listen? You-

Mingi : LET ME BE MOON AERI!

Aeri looked at mingi as he stared up at her, her realizing that his eyes were red, his shirt now drenched from the fountain water. Was he…aeri stepped back as mingi stood up from his place, walking past her. Aeri let out a breath as she ran to him, holding his arm as she said

Aeri : what is wrong with you? Did the medicine cause something-

Mingi : the medicine caused nothing, I just need time away from you. So please, just let me fucking go.

Aeri : time away from me? Mingi you need to catch han soon and we need to attend to the court tomorrow-

Mingi groaned as he pushed aeri away from him with all his force, causing her to stumble back as she tripped over her skirts and fell down. Aeri gasped, looking up as she glared at mingi.

Aeri : did you just-

Mingi : I TOLD YOU, I DO NOT WISH TO SEE YOU RIGHT NOW! PLEASE!

Aeri stared at mingi in part confusion as he let out a breath and walked away, disappearing into the palace. Aeri let out a breath as she looked at her palm that had cut through a sharp piece of stone during the fall, blood oozing out of it as she muttered under her breath

Aeri : what the bloody hell is wrong with that man.

__________________________

Mingi stared blankly at the floors of the palace as he walked towards his chambers three hours later, the half asleep guards bowing at him. Mingi had no idea what had happened to him, why the hell had he reacted like that? He'd sat and thought about it for a whole three hours and he still had no answers. Fuck this, why was he so triggered by what aeri had told him? It wasn't the first time. What changed?

Mingi opened the door to his chambers as he saw aeri fast asleep on the bed, one of her hand dangling down the bed. Mingi frowned as he shut the door behind him, walking closer to aeri as he realized the skin on her palm had split open, probably from him pushing her in the garden.

Mingi sighed, bringing the first aid kit as he kneeled down the floor. He began taking care of the wound gently, not wanting to wake aeri up. He had no idea why he was doing this, but seeing her blood did something to him.

As mingi bandaged up the hand that had once buried itself in his hair, running along his back bringing him comfort no one else had ever offered, he realized how much he'd wanted to go back. Yes, he was not in the right state of mind and yes, he had recurring nightmares and the pain had been terrible. But if that meant having aeri take care of him, if that meant feeling her touch on his skin and her voice that held no sharpness, he'd go through all of it over again.

Mingi kept the first aid kit away as he laid his forehead against the edge of the bed, closing his eyes as a tired sigh fell from his lips. And just like that he'd fallen asleep.

______________________________

Han : he definitely loves her.

??? : what?

Han : I'm telling you, san, song mingi loves the empress.

San scoffed, taking a sip of his gin as he said

San : he, song mingi, the great emperor of China and Korea, has fallen in love?

Han realized how hard that was to believe, given mingi's stance in the political realm and his ways with people. But he saw the way he looked at her.

Han : believe it or not, it has happened. We can't defeat mingi face-to-face, he's too strong for that. We need something, someone, else as leverage.

San : so you're saying we should just kidnap the empress instead and lure him to us?

Han : yes, and he'll fall for it, 100 percent.

San supposed kidnapping a woman would be much, much easier than a man, she was too weak to fight back.

San : if this fails-

Han : it won't, san. Love can win battles, but it can also cause great wars, remember? When in love mingi is weak, he will do anything for her life, I am sure of it.

San : well then, I suppose moon aeri it is. By the way, do you think I could have her after all this? She's a pretty thing, I'm sure.

Han : I have nothing to do with that lady, san, I only need her crown. The rest of it is all yours.

_________________________

Aeri opened her eyes as she felt a weight on her hand, something smooth tickling against her skin as she looked to her side and realized with a start that mingi was fast asleep beside her, only his head rested against her wounded hand. Why the hell was he on the floor? And why was her hand bandaged?

Aeri let out a breath as she sat up straight, that waking up mingi as well as he woke up with a small groan.

Aeri : did you do this?

Mingi's sleepy eyes looked at the bandage that was wrapped around aeri's hand as he said

Mingi : yes, is it not from yesterday night? At the garden-

Aeri : where you started acting out like a teenage boy? Yes.

Mingi : I-

Aeri : I would appreciate it if you don't do that again, mingi. Now get up, we have to attend to court.

Mingi stared after aeri as she walked towards the bathroom, that same stone cold expression on her face. He wished he could see her smile at least once before she sent him away.

____________________________

3 weeks later :

Mingi was now walking towards a secluded area in the city, his fingers wrapped around the royal sword's hilt as he looked around him. He had ignored aeri for weeks now, hoping to get rid of these stupid feelings he had for her. He didn't want to decipher them, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to return from it. And so he'd lost himself in trying to find han, and yesterday he had gotten his first intel saying that han was living in a small place close to the old city market that had been abandoned years ago.

As mingi reached closer to the only small three storied building around, he saw lights lit up in some of the rooms, mingi looking around as he noticed that there was no one around here, it had gotten dark as well. This was seeming more to be a trap than it was now.

And just as mingi was about to step forward the door to the building opened, revealing han who already seemed to have expected him with that smug look on his face.

Shit, shit.

Han : so you're here, your majesty! I see you're healthy again?

Mingi : where did you get the men from?

Han chuckled as he said

Han : you're too smart for your own good, song mingi. But too bad I'm smarter than you.

Mingi let out a breath as han walked into the inside of the building, a bunch of men rushing out of the house after him with weapons in their hands. Mingi quickly pulled out his royal sword as he whispered under his breath

Mingi : god save me.

__________________________

Aeri had been sitting on that dining table for half an hour now, picking at her food. She felt no appetite for some reason, as she hadn't felt for the past week. Mingi had been ignoring her for everything other than work purposes, and aeri supposed that was what she ideally wanted, right? He had been focusing on finding han, and that means the sooner mingi would just leave this nation for good.

Except aeri had seen mingi with that puppy the other day, she had seen him smile and laugh for the first time, feeding the stray puppy food and water. The dog hadn't left mingi's side since then, and he had taken it in and was raising it in another room entirely. He hadn't told her about it, but she'd seen him take it for walks, and how happy he had looked with it.

Aeri had tried to ignore it, but then she hadn't seen mingi for a few hours now, and she had little idea where he'd gone. Aeri sighed as she said to the guard behind her

Aeri : did his majesty take the carriage with him?

??? : no your majesty, he went on a single horse.

Aeri : no guards?

??? : none, your majesty.

Aeri let out a breath as she stood up, saying to the maids as she walked towards the door

Aeri : dinner's done.

Aeri quickly walked towards the stables, picking up her bow and arrows along the way as she muttered under her breath

Aeri : damn this man.

_________________________

Mingi groaned as he pushed another man away from him, stabbing his already bloodied sword into the man's heart as he pushed him back. There were too many men, and mingi didn't have enough weapons. He had already killed dozens without getting wounded, but mingi felt like he would fall soon. Mingi felt sounds behind him and turned around to see a man running up to him with an axe. Mingi was just about to raise his sword when an arrow was shot straight into the man's heart from behind, causing him to fall down.

Mingi looked up with widened eyes as he saw aeri riding up to him on a horse, a bow and arrow aimed at the men behind him. Mingi stared as aeri shot arrow after arrow past him, her tilting the bow slightly as one of the arrows went right past his ear, causing his earring to jingle as aeri quickly rode up to him and said

Aeri : CLIMB UP!

Mingi looked behind him one last time before climbing aeri's horse, his chest pressing against her back as aeri handed the bow and arrows to mingi

Aeri : shoot.

Mingi held onto the saddle as aeri quickly turned the horse around, mingi raising the bow as he started shooting at the men close to them one by one.

Aeri : are you stupid?

Mingi : what?

Aeri : ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID!

Mingi : han, he has an army now, your majesty.

Aeri : I don't fucking care, mingi!

Mingi : you're the one who wanted me to find out-

Aeri : NOT BY KILLING YOURSELF!

Mingi did not understand why aeri was suddenly being like this. He shot his final arrow as the men finally stopped running after them, aeri leading her horse into a nearby forest as mingi looked around before asking

Mingi : are we going to get lost?

Aeri : no.

Mingi let out a breath as he kept the bow away, letting out a small hiss as he looked at the side of his right arm to realize that there was a deep cut on it. It was probably the only serious wound he'd gotten today.

Aeri : are you hurt?

Mingi : no.

Mingi paused as aeri slowly stopped the horse in between a small clearing, getting off of it as mingi looked at her in confusion

Aeri : get down.

Mingi let out a breath as he got off of the horse, aeri quickly holding his arm as she started inspecting him with worried eyes. Mingi stared at her blankly as he asked

Mingi : what are you doing?

Aeri : checking for any injuries.

Mingi : what does that matter to you?

Aeri : mingi! You just escaped death and now you're putting yourself into it again?

Mingi : you asked me to find han, your majesty. It was an order.

Aeri : you don't have to do it like this! If you die so soon who's going to kill han for me?

Oh, so that was why she'd come to save him. Because she still had uses for him, why did mingi even bother to think otherwise?

Mingi : han tried hurting you, and I'm sure he would do it again your majesty. I need to kill him before that happens.

Aeri : why would he do it to me? Why not you?

Mingi : because…look it doesn't matter. We-

Aeri : mingi, tell me.

Mingi stared at aeri as she looked up at him with those same eyes that mingi felt shone brighter than the stars above him.

Mingi : is that a command?

Aeri : yes.

Mingi : because you are my only weakness, because getting to you would be the best way to get to me, my heart. If they can't defeat me through physical force, they will do it this way.

Aeri : what…what is that supposed to mean?

Mingi : you've already researched about me, your majesty, you know how it gets when I…fall in love.

Aeri : what? Fall in love with who?

Why the hell was this lady so bloody clueless, mingi thought.

Mingi : we need to go back to the palace.

Aeri : I did not get my answer-

Mingi : it doesn't matter.

Aeri : it does to me!

Mingi : GOD DAMN IT, IT'S YOU! YOU…I've fallen in love with you.

Aeri stepped back in shock, her eyes widening as she scoffed and whispered

Aeri : this is a trap. You're trying to use my own moves against me-

Mingi : I am not so cruel, your majesty, and I am not as good as a liar as you are.

Aeri felt her heart beat faster as she muttered under her breath

Aeri : this cannot be true.

Mingi : I wish it wasn't.

Aeri : why…no, why would you fall in love with me? I have-

Mingi : I do not know, okay. Now can we go back to the palace, please.

Aeri watched as mingi got on top of the horse, holding out a hand for her to hold as aeri sighed and took it, using it to lift herself up onto the horse back as mingi started riding the horse through the forest.

For a few minutes neither of them said anything, mingi was too embarassed and aeri was too shocked. That was until she realized.

Aeri : do you know the way around this forest?

Mingi : how else do you think I came here, your majesty?

Aeri sighed as she looked around, the place getting darker as time passed. If they didn't reach mainland soon they'd be doomed.

Mingi : we need to prepare for war.

Aeri : war?

Mingi : han has an army now, your majesty, I told you. And there is only one way he could've attained it. Choi san.

Aeri : the king of our neighboring kingdom?

Mingi : yes, do you know him?

She didn't know him but she knew his body.

Aeri : he used to be my muse once, when my old husband got quite boring.

Mingi : what?

Aeri rolled her eyes as she started

Aeri : we used to have sex-

Mingi : no. no no I get it.

The last thing mingi wanted to hear right now was her past sexual relations and how it went. Aeri smirked as she moved her hair away from her face. Once again there was a pause for few minutes before mingi suddenly asked

Mingi : do you still love him?

Aeri : love? I've never loved him, mingi, or anyone for that matter. I have only ever used him for my own pleasure, as I have for everyone else in my life.

Mingi sighed, riding the horse faster as he whispered

Mingi : this is going to be such a mess.

_____________________________

[chonnysinferno]

miauuuu puts source memory writing under the keep reading thing or whateevr

(note: if you tag this as cj shipping or anything related i will hit you with a bat thank you)

It was snowing outside. It always was.

[Temperature's a good -1.6° Celsius outside.]

(Could you translate that into Fahrenheit? I don't follow.)

[Whatever. That's 29° Fahrenheit to you.]

We were both there, he was always finding something to nitpick about me. He always did. But this time, he was actually curious about how I was. Maybe it was only to find a weakness about me, although there were so many I couldn’t put it all in a list.

(Why’d you have to take me out in the snow anyways?)

It was so funny. It was all before the incident. Even saying that brought it up, fresh, like it was just yesterday. Before he became more of a monstrous machine, hooked up to wires and all sorts of blinking lights. Everything was so bright in there, I guess it had to be in his room. Besides the fact that his eyes pierced in the dark like eyes of a predator watching their next meal, everything lit up now. Before, it was just us. It feels like I’ve somewhat lost whatever humanity he even had to his desire to become perfect. It’s hard to remember anything when he was still alive to me.

[It’s nice out here.]

He preferred the cold comparing to the nice warmth of my room. He always insisted to talk somewhere frigid and freezing, much like his personality. I never got close to him, even if I tried, maybe he was trying to stay guarded, and he saw my attempts to get to know him better as “attacks”. They never were, but it felt like I was trying to fight him every time. It never was easy, but I wish it was. I wish everything could just be how it was back then, but we can never have anything we want, can we?

(You know why I hate being out here. I can’t understand why you’d ever want to be out here anyways, but I guess that comes with the Grinch-like personality.)

He scoffed. Maybe that was his attempt at a laugh.

[Ha ha. Very funny, Heart.]

(Genuinely though, why would you pull me out here? You know this isn’t my domain, and I hate being out of my comfort zone.)

[Good. That makes you more vulnerable.]

(Why are you like this?)

[Don’t ask me.]

(Since we’re being formal for some reason, what do you want, Mr. Mind? To mock me again?)

[No. I wanted to ask about your wings, and the fact you have 2 sets. Maybe you’ll sprout another pair of them, who knows?]

(Was that a joke? You have humor? Shocking. Where’s Mind, and what did you do with him?)

He rolled his eyes, sighing at me.

[I can crack jokes too, you're not the only one.]

(Youuuu sureee? Thought that wasn't in your system.)

[You suck.]

(Thank you!)

[That wasn't a compliment, idiot.]

(I know, but you take comments way too literally, stop being so concrete. Read between the lines! Think outside the box for me.)

[1. Those two lines don't correlate. 2. Thinking outside the box is for being creative and doesn't apply to this specific situation. 3. What lines, and what box?]

(My point is proven, I'm done here. Goodbye, Mind.)

I started to get up slowly, but he pulled on my scarf, a little too hard, forcing me to fall to the snow in an unmannerly fashion. What was he trying to do, embarass me?

(What was that for?? Don't you want me to leave?)

[No! I mean, no, I still haven't asked you my questions.]

(Ohhh, you want me to stay soo bad!)

[You KNOW that's not what I meant, Heart, don't play with me.]

(I know, I wouldn't want to date you anyways. I bet 100 dollars you couldn't even comprehend romance if you tried to.)

[Not like you can either.]

(You little-)

[Looks like I've struck a nerve. How's your love life, since you flaunt it so much?]

He grinned.

(Ugh, you wouldn't understand anyways. Not like it's any of your business, so buzz off.)

[I'll have you know I know more about romance than I let on, so tell me. What of your failures?]

(Uughhhh.. No, I'm not sharing my little stories with you, Mind.)

[Okay, then I'm leaving. Bye bye, Heart.]

(Good riddance.)

[What was that?]

(GO!)

[Okay okay, I'll take my departure.]

He cackled loud. He was only trying to get under my skin, after all.

I layed down on the white snow on the ground, letting the powdery material bury my face and body slowly. Wings outspread, shoes sticking out in the growing mound.

[hinatastinygiant]

5 | The Unexpected Desire

Pairing: Naoto Tachibana x Fem!Reader

Shameless Masterlist

After swiping a set of keys from the receptionist's desk where, surprisingly, nobody is working right now, I walk across the station to Y/N's cell. Just as I do, a sudden impact on the back of my head jolts me. My vision blurs, and I struggle to stay upright. 

Through the haze, I manage to turn around and see a large man standing there. My mind races to make sense of the situation. And to my surprise, I hear Y/N gasp and exclaim, "Dad, what the fuck?!"

I try to steady myself as I quietly ask, "W-What's going on?"

Y/N wraps her arms around me carefully, making sure I don't fall. And then she begins to question why I'm here.

"I was gonna let you out..." I reply.

Her father lets out a deep laugh, and a mix of emotions fills me as I realize the connection between Y/N and the person who just struck me in the back of my head.

Her father, with a smirk on his face, then comments, "Looks like you're in good hands, Y/N. I've gotta get myself the hell outta here. Dunno if I mentioned, but I'm technically supposed to be in Fuchu right now."

"Fuchu Prison?!" I gulp. 

Y/N's frustration is evident in her response, yet she doesn't bring up the fact that her dad is literally an escaped felon. "There's no chance Naoto will help me! He'll just lock me back up! Don't go!"

He chuckles again, this time pointing out, "I saw Naoto punch a cop in the face for no reason. I'm sure he'll help you. Probably won't have a job next week anyways."

Before I can fully comprehend the situation, he bids his daughter farewell with a kiss on Y/N's temple and hurries away, leaving up standing there confused.

Y/N and I exchange glances, and I see the desperation in her eyes. The realization dawns on me that her father, believes that I can be an ally in her fight for freedom. The punch I delivered to Officer Gullivan, and the potential consequences it may have for my career, further solidified his belief.

"Gonna throw me back in?" Y/N groans, crossing her arms. "Just get it fucking over with, Tachibana."

"Oh shut up," I roll my eyes as I grab onto her hand. "I'll help you, but we need to act fast and carefully."

Y/N's expression shifts from disbelief to gratitude and tears well up in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice trembling.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Y/N'S P.O.V.

With the keys still in one of his hands, Naoto holds your hand tight and you make your way through the dimly lit corridors, avoiding any guards or staff you encounter. Your heart pounds with the fear of getting caught. He moves cautiously, using every ounce of stealth he has.

Finally, you reach an exit, and he glances back at you one last time before stepping outside into the cold night air. The rush of freedom fills you, though you're still hyperaware of the dangerous path you've just chosen.

Once you're a block away, you can't contain your curiosity any longer and ask Naoto, "Why are you doing this? You're risking your career to save me..."

Without hesitation, he yanks you between two buildings, pushing your back against a wall. Your heart pounds out of your chest, partly from fear, but a part of you wishes he'd kiss you right here and now, even though you're on the run.

"It's not about you," he so obviously lies, his face flushed from embarrassment. "I'm already in trouble, and this is just delaying the inevitable."

You can't help but smile, realizing that he really is doing this just for you, and it makes your gratitude for him grow even more. "What did my dad say to you?" you ask, wanting to understand what really provoked this.

Naoto's face heats up further, and before you know it, you're overcome with emotion. You grab the sides of his face, pull him close, and tell him, "I'm really fucking grateful for you." And then you kiss him.

He pulls away, flustered, and stammers, "We need to get away before we do any of that."

You grin mischievously and tease, "So you do want to do that, hm?"

Naoto's reply is swift and serious. "Anywhere but Tokyo."

"Deal," you grin. But then a sudden realization hits you. "Hey, uh, why didn't we just take your car and use that to get out of town?"

He deadpans and admits, "That would've been a good idea. I didn't think of that."

"It's okay," you chuckle to yourself. "Let's take the train out of the city. They won't find us there. And then we can figure out where we want to go."

Naoto agrees, and in the midst of your daring escape, he pulls you close and kisses you again. You can't help but smile against his lips, feeling the rush of adrenaline and the thrill of being with him.

"Come on, let's go," you say, feeling alive and ready to face whatever lies ahead.

Hand in hand, you disappear into the night, two souls bounded by an unexpected connection, ready to leave the past behind and create a new future together.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

On the train, you find yourself in a private car, finally finding a bit of rest from all the chaotic events that led you there. As you look through a map, planning your next move, you notice Naoto still standing by the glass door, his expression tense with worry.

"You don't have to keep stressing," you sigh as you look up from the map. "We're safe and for now, we have this private car to ourselves. No one can find us here."

Naoto nods quietly and closes the curtains on the door before sitting back down beside you. "You're right," he hums. "What're you looking at?"

"I was reading up about the beaches in Okinawa," you reply. "I've always wanted to go there, and now that we're on the run, it feels like the perfect time to escape there."

A soft smile graces Naoto's face as he looks at you. "Then we should go there," he suggests gently.

You chuckle, enjoying the idea. "It'll be a long ride," you mention to him.

His response surprises you, but you can't help but smile at his words. "The longer the ride, the better," he says, his eyes locking with yours.

In that moment, sitting side by side on the train, escaping the past, you find comfort in his company. Despite the challenges that may lie ahead, you know you are not alone, and the possibilities seem endless.

You lean back and allow your head to rest on his shoulder, trying not to think too hard about the adventure that will change your life forever. And for the first time in a long while, you feel a sense of freedom and excitement, ready to face whatever awaits you.

Shameless Masterlist

[kookiecrumb]

jjk|| Your Head

"tags": @kazthebrekkerofinej

word count: uhhhh

summary: Jungkook is the heir to the throne of your Kingdom! In this tale of duty versus heart, will love prevail victorious?

tags: Royalty!Jungkook x Peasant!Reader, oneshot, smut, fluff, slight angst, some crack, pining, forbidden lovers, Jungkookie has a sweet tooth, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings: explicit language, impact play, birthday sex (technically), fingering, oral (m receiving*), love marking, alcohol consumption, s&m themes, horny grinding, praise kink/body worship

a/n:

hey guys!

Firstly, I want to say how proud I am of myself for growing so much during this fic. I learned a lot about what I'm comfortable with, what I'd like to work on, and where my confidences lie.

I won't lie and say it's been easy, because writing this meant dealing with a lot of my fears? I'm excited for all the works that are to come.

The only thing I can do is be as receptive to growth as possible, so I'm looking forward to learning...

*I actually learned that Vaseline wasn't invented until like the 1870s? The fic is written in the 1810s, so I actually had a choice between having them do it with vegetable oil or spit. Spit won.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

5 years ago

You bend over to pick up an apple that had rolled over under your father's produce cart, praying that it isn't bruised so that you have to pay for it out of your dinner, when a crumpled piece of paper hits you in the ass.

Confused, you crawl out from under the stand and unwrap the paper.

The paper itself is of the finest quality you've ever seen. It's a sturdy cardstock, bleached white with gold etchings on the borders. The print on the top of it reads "His Highness Jeon's Royal Study," and scribbled in some kid's amateur cursive below, "Nice butt."

You directed your gaze upwards, towards the towering castle walls. Sure enough, a boy no older than 15 had his noggin popping out from the top of the rampart, with two wide eyes staring down, curious as to your reaction. This was Prince Jungkook, heir to the throne of your kingdom.

"Shouldn't you be equestrian horse riding or playing polo or something?" You shout. He furrows his eyebrows, apparently offended at your assumption, and then disappears behind the edifice.

Moments later, another paper hits your shoulder as you're practicing your caligraphy behind your cart. It lands between the apples, so you reach your hand over and fish out out.

You glance up at the anticipant, and sure enough he's there with his doe eyes and his coconut head, ogling.

"No, dumbie. That's at MID-day." Well how were YOU supposed to know the royal schedule of the crown prince, it wasn't just common knowlegde you learned from being a humble farmer's daught--

Ah!

"Will you STOP?!" You put your foot down. "Unless you're here to buy my apples, then you're not getting ANY, little Prince." Oh, shit. You gave him ideas. Now it was really over for you.

In less than half an hour, half a company of men arrived at the marketplace, asking about your little old apple stand, and sure enough, Jungkook had bought out the entire cart so that you were forced to help with the transaction.

The young prince had eyes frankly too big for his head, with the most prominent cupid's bow you've ever seen. His nose slightly outgrew his face and his ears were hidden away behind his short, black hair. "Now you can talk to me." He gave you a rose he'd stolen from the royal garden. "I am Jungkook, heir to the throne of--"

"I know who you are." You interrupt him, documenting His Highness' total in your calligraphy book.

With a hand perched on his chest from surprise, he scoffed. "And I happen to think you're really pretty, so I was going to ask you to be my very first consor--"

"You're 15, you have playmates not consorts."

"And how old are you?!" He's had it, raising his voice and taking a bite out of one of your apples with force.

"16, old enough to have suitors." You tease. Jungkook hangs his head a little. He just needed someone to talk to, it would seem. Reluctantly, you scribbled down your address down on a piece of note paper and handed it to him.

"Look, if you buy more of my apples, I'll have an excuse to tell my Dad so I can hang out with you." You spoke in a low voice as to not raise suspicion.

Your dad is standing negotiating with the guards about prices, his usual embarassing haggling gruffly overpowering the guards elegant twiddle-tones.

"Wonderful! See you soon, my sweet!" He resumes his confident demeanor, tucking the paper into his overcoat with a small smile. He salutes you boyishly and marches away with a year's supply of apples.

For the next week, the royal kitchen had baked 3 apple pies, made 5 fruit salads, 4 batches of apple muffins, and threw the rest of them in Sangria; that's the same Sangria as King Jeon finds himself drinking in his wife's drawing room on Sunday.

"Call Chef, fetch him up here." He waves to his assistant, keeping his eyes on the outside. He was deep in thought, his hands stoicly behind his back.

The Kingdom had been prosperous for over many years now, and war had not come close to threatening its borders in a lifetime. Negotiations were always successful, and quality of living was high. The work of a King, in a situation such as this, was to perfect the image of the royal family as strong rulers, and to paint his daughters as desirable to foreign heirs.

"Your Grace," the assistant called his attention, "Head Chef Sung." The dainty man bows and scurries off somewhere else.

Chef Sung is a portly man, who carries himself heaving with every step, his great belly inflating with each hefty inhale. He approaches the King, and kneels down to kiss his hand with his fat lips.

The King recoils in disgust, but quickly collects himself and his words. "Where are these apples from, is it France or Spain?" He demands.

"Neither, Your Highness." Mr.Sung lifts up his eyes. "They are from our Holy Kingdom; by order of Prince Jungkook, an entire cart was purchased of these apples and we have not been able to get rid of them." Tears threatened Chef Sungs eyes at the very mention of the fruit.

'Well, there's one thing the kid's done right.' King Jeon now faces the Chef, setting down his drink on a mahogany table, leaning against it casually. "Well! Good. I'd like to meet the owner of that cart, invite him to my Sunday brunch."

"Oh, yes, of course sir! You'll never see them in our kitchen aga--What?" Chef Sung takes out his handkerchief, waving it around in the air and drying his tears at once. "So you like them! Why...Yes! Yes, of course!"

Your father thought it would be valuable to have you around the kitchen, learning from the skilled men and women employed by the Jeon family. He only visited once a week to drop off fresh produce, (he'd been officially hired to handle restocking of goods) but you, after showing promising signs of being a gifted baker during one of your father's restocks, were granted scholarship by Ms.Kang to be her aid.

You were now, officially, a resident of the Jeon Estate, residing in the servant's quarters, immediately adjacent to the kitchen. This was convenient. It was far too convenient for a certain little Prince to get the idea of wanting a midnight snack and wandering downstairs.

One day, he does just that. He finds his way into the first bedroom to the right of the stairs facing the kitchen, and that happens to be your bedroom.

He pokes you awake. "Ow! Ow, whyyy~" You whine and toss yourself over to the other side of the bed. His irritating poking persists. You grab his fingers and your eyes shatter open.

You sit up, alarmed. "You could have me arrested, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I wanted a midnight snack! Besides, I wanna talk to you." He pouts, still holding a small teddy companion.

"Fine. I'll bake you ONE sheet of cookies." You slip on your night shoes and shuffle to the kitchen, and Jungkook tags along.

By the time Jungkook's 18th birthday comes around, he's in the kitchen helping you whisk buttercream to top his cake while having a tease at the Austrian Princess' mole.

"You have one right under your lip, look!" You take a little buttercream from the bowl and stain the dark spot with it.

He licks it up and hastens to add, "it needs more sugar, lady!" as he turns to grab a puffy bag of confection sugar.

"You're impossible to please." Snatching the sugar away from him, you smirk. "You can gobble down as many sweets as you want when the ball commences. Remember, this is the year you're supposed to be keeping your eye out for a girl of a good fam--"

"Yada yada, must have hips for childbearing, yada yada yada..." He mocks the speech his mother had told him that morning when he got dressed.

"Exactly." You set your bowl aside to fix Jungkook's tie. "Yes, and that's your duty, as our heir."

You step back and examine Jungkook one more time. He'd grown so tall in the last year, his legs like spider's and he was just beginning to grow into his features. Handsome boy.

You, too, had grown into an elegant young woman. You had a poised complexion, ready-mannered and graceful. Your hands seemed out of place in your otherwise feminine frame, carrying an extra bit of girth from baking. You were 19 years old.

Marriage was becoming an uncomfortably frequent topic during your visits home, as your mother had married young, herself, she expected the same of you.

Truth be told, there were plenty of offers for your hand. You were a skilled and very esteemed individual, who had broken into thr artisinal class. But your father knew better than put a dowry on your happiness. So long as you worked, he saw no reason to marry you off just yet.

"Now, go. Your sisters must be worried sick! Go out there." You shoo him, pushing him out the door of the kitchen despite his flailing arms.

Throughout the party, you'd been carrying a platter of your own baked goods, serving them to the aristocrats attending the Princes' coming-of-age ball. Accents from all over Europe and some from Kingdoms as far East as Cyprus jubilantly engaged in artful conversation which filled the air with good spirits.

Jungkook, himself, was busy being introduced to as many women as possible, a medley of presenting duchesses, ladies, and even Princesses of your Kingdom. They were each more qualified than you'll ever be, ten-fold.

One was a Greek Princess, her hair cascaded in darling curls down her shoulders and her eyes were deep-set, her voice a flirtatious trill.

Another, a Prussian Princess', posture radiated excellency, and whose complexion sparkled like powdered snow. Jungkook greeted her warmly, pleased with her appearance.

Distracted, you tripped up your skirt and dropped the remainder of your pastries. With that, you stepped off to use the restroom.

The sound of Strauss' Rosen aus dem Süden faintly loomed in the air as you wiped tears from your waterline in the mirror. That was just the way it was, wasn't it? Princes come of age, and they find wives who they commit their lives to.

"Married men don't have friends who are girls." You say out loud, just to realize it. Jungkook was now expected to find a mate within the season, and he was, in fact, quite the eligible bachelor.

Little did you know that Jungkook had been keeping an eye out for you throughout the party, not only because you were carrying his favorite Danish pastires, but because he knew your company was his greatest comfort.

He's in the midst of greeting the Duchess of Kent when he excuses himself to go look for you. He finds your mess first, frowning as he realizes something has gone terribly wrong.

He catches you in the hallway, face puffy and shaky. He grabs your wrist to keep you from darting back to the kitchen.

"Please don't do this, it's my birthday, y/n." It's as if an unspoken rule had been broken between you, and he feels it. Something is making you uncomfortable. "Was it the girls? You told me about this, it's my duty to at least greet them and--"

"Yeah, you sure did greet the Prussian woman nicely." You speak through tears. "She's the girl you were born to be with, huh? Your birthright?"Jungkook is silent. "Every girl at that ball wants to be your wife, want to have your children. They haven't known you for a day and yet they're ready to be your bride."

You search Jungkook's eyes for any sign of coherence, hoping that he would defend against you, that he would speak up and tell you otherwise. No such argument comes.

You yank your arm from his grip and march to the kitchen to remake the pastries you spilled.

You had the job of clearing off all the tables upon the departure of the last guests. It is midnight, and the windows of the castle stream moonlight down on the carpet beneath your feet. The glow of candles soothe you as you hum the waltzes which echo in your mind. It's a brilliant evening.

The centerpieces of the tables were gardenias, lush rose-like flowers with yellow pistils.

Summer, 1809

"Jungkook, wait! You're going to make me trip!" You shout from the top of the hill.

"You've gotta come see before the sun sets! It's the only way we'll get there on time, now run!" Jungkook's speeding down the terrain towards the Sycamore tree which grew deep and wide beneath the banks of a great rushing river.

You groan and throw caution to the wind, rolling down the steep mount in your Sunday dress. Jungkook turns to watch you, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "Look at you!"

You land on your feet at the bottom and scurry off to join Jungkook under the grandfather tree, out of breath entirely. "Now, look what you made me do. You're such a boy, you know that?! Making me come out here just to see some bloody--"

Jungkook has plucked a gardenia and placed it behind your ear. "Would you shut up? We got here on time. Behold."

In all its glory, the sun bathes you in its vivacious rays, creating a feeling of heavenly bliss as it dips below the horizon. The sky blushes pink, its clouds mere whisps above you. Wind rustles the leaves of the grand tree, rousing the birds to chirp their afternoon song.

"Mom used to come here all the time with my Dad, because of these." Jungkook clasped the blooming flower in his tender hands.

After a while, he says "the bugs will come out soon, so we ought to go back," as if he's trying not to scare something away. He helps you up, and with one last look across the valley, you walk next to each other back to the East Quarters.

You take all the silverware and plates by the tub to the dish-washing station and toss all of the linen napkins into the washing machine. All you had left was to blow out the lights in leading upstairs.

"Prince! It is very late, and there are no guests left for you to entertain. What troubles you?" Jungkook's sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands, still wearing his best suit.

"I disappointed you, y/n...I didn't like any of them." He admits, lifting his head up to sulk at you. "I should have told you then, but I didn't want to make you upset!"

Did Jungkook mistake your jealousy for disappointment?

"I'm not upset because you didn't hit it off with the girls..." You sigh. A confession is due, and he's ready to hear the truth from you about how you feel about him.

"Well, the truth is, I didn't like any of the girls because I like you, y/n. But you know that, don't you?" You pause, asking him to elaborate.

"Remember when I bought all the apples because I wanted to be with you? Like...I told you that you were my consort and I kind of meant it?" He felt pathetic now, realizing that you weren't just ignoring his advances. "So you didn't friendzone me for 2 years, you actually didn't know that I liked you."

It was almost laughable, a situation you would read in one of your illegal novels which you kept tucked away in your pillow at night. "No, Kookie, I didn't." You admit to your insolence.

You can't bear to lead him on any longer. You needed to put duty over your own self interest for the sake of the kingdom, even if it shattered his hope. It was better this way.

"But, you do know that we can't ever be a thing, right? It's just silly." Your heart tightens with the words which fall out of your mouth. "It is. Nevermind what your parents would think, what would it do for your image? You're on the world's stage, Jungkook, and you're a selfish person if you think you can just throw all of your duties away to date a scum of the Earth like-- like me!" With your heart in your throat, dry your eyes with your sleeve. "And...I want to, I really really want to, more than anything else to love you, Jungkook. I love you! I...can't." Through the blur of your tears, the shapeless blob that Jungkook has become stands up.

Taking his thumb and swiping it under your eyes, he sighs. Words escaping him, he takes your trembling body against his chest and nestles his head in the crook of your neck. Your cold hands travel underneath his overcoat to hold his waist. The Princes' lips plant a gentle kiss on your neck, chaste yet deep and satisfying.

"I will not accept any bride if not you, my love." He draws back, meeting your fervid gaze. "To the world, I remain a bachelor for a few years."

"And after those years, Jungkook?" You ride your hands up to caress the man's jaw. "You will still love me after those years, and then what?"

"I don't know," he says, voice as soft as powder. "I don't know many things, y/n, that's why I need you to teach me." His palms are rubbing at your waist, beckoning you closer.

His breath quickening as you lean your body against his hold, and you figure it must be the wine he drank to calm his nerves. That was it, wasn't it? He was drunk.

"You're not drunk, are you?" Your face sours, really hoping it's not the case as you feel your body temperature rise.

"Y/N, I've only had a glass. You saw I was a wreck back there." His lips kept chasing yours in a dance you can't quite describe. "I have wanted to hold you like this since I saw you selling apples on the street. Give me the honor..." His forehead against yours and his strong hands supporting your back, he's already fucking you with his eyes.

"The pleasure of being your lover." He squeezes your waist tight with his forearms, planting brisk kisses behind your ear and breathing in your scent. He smiles against you. Your skin pebbles at his affectionate touch, purring softly as your eyes roll back in delight.

"Kookie..." You breathe, leaning on his broad chest. "Kook, the maids are wondering where I am, I have to go..." You slur, tugging at his collar.

He grunts in protest, taking your ear between his teeth and nibbling it.

"If you let me go, I'll steal some cake for you tomorrow at breakfast." If there's anything Jungkook likes more than Cream Ice, it was cake. He unravels you from his arms and nods, his eyes softening.

"Request my service tomorrow, from Ms.Kang. She's been sweet on me lately." You peck his cheek before stepping back. Your rouge has embarrassingly stained His Grace's cheek.

Jungkook bows and presses a kiss on your hand, eyes rising to meet yours. "Til' morrow, babe."

Jiyoo shakes you awake the next morning, handing you a cake and a note that reads: "Prince Jungkook has a commission he must discuss with you. Meet him at his chamber immediately."

Lacing on a simple corset over your nightgown, you try not to look too red in the face as you climb up the stairs to His Majesty's room. You'd be up there alone, as requested. The girls would absolutely start rumors based on that alone-- rumors which you realize are probably totally true. This was stuff of scandal, after all...

'There shouldn't be anything scandalous about love.' You decide as you rap on His Highness' door.

"Please enter...but only if you have my cake!" Jungkook says in his morning voice. He's so cute.

The simplicity of Jungkook's abode takes you by surprise. His bedroom is very well lit, a capital display of the flowered valley through his bay windows washed the room in gold, painting his porcelain white carpets and his cotton sheets a warm creme color. His drawers and vanity were etched in gold, with breathtaking detailing.

The Monarch himself was splayed across the bed, laying on his side casually. He held a glass in his hand, holding a white wine. He puts down his glass and sits up as your presence.

"We both know that you didn't come here as my servant." You lock the door behind you. "And I have no such commission to give you, darling." The innocence which undertones his usual speech is missing as he coaxes you towards him.

"This much I know, Your Majesty," You say, taking a bit of frosting on your index finger and smudging it on the Princes lips. His black eyes, as cunning as a viper, watch you dangerously as you push two fingers past his plush lips. He wraps his hands around your wrist and draws your hand away, his gaze fixating on you.

"Set the cake down." At his command, you carefully place the confection down on a nearby chest, feeling Jungkook's eyes on you, drawing you back towards his grip.

"Let me pull your laces apart," with your waist held by his Herculean hand, he hums "and then let me pull you apart. I want to memorize your pleasures and gratify your desires, I need it, y/n..." Your back flush against his chest and your thighs split, his hands knead into you as he litters your collar with his mark.

You gasp softly against the crook of his neck, giving into his hold of you. His hot tongue spreads under your jaw, closing into a hard kiss as his hands travel back up to undo your corset and free your tits.

One by one, his fingers pop open the buttons left on your gown until the collar hangs off-shoulder to expose your collarbone. At the sight of new skin, Jungkook's tongue darts to stain it.

His hands stagger above your breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here?"

"Oh, Kookie, touch me everywhere~" Your hands form fists around Jungkook's shirt, beckoning him impossibly closer.

Grasping one ever so carefully, his thumb grazes your bud as he playfully bites under your ear. "ah-- ahh,"

Jungkook groans in response, he can't believe how cute you sound. Curious, he wants to hear more, so he traces your thighs and experimentally pushes up the outside your cunt.

You squirm, tensing up immediately in response. You bring your hands down to find the latch on his trousers and dip your hands below to rub him through his undergarments. He heatedly bucks up to meet your touch, a panting mess.

You face him now as he watches you ride his fingers while you grip his girth through his clothes. He takes you by the ass and places you on his prominent bulge, hips rolling into you as he hungrily kisses you, his firm hands grinding your core on his cock.

His face is a sinful red, panting under you desperately.

"I've been wanting to do this," His voice warbles through your touch, running your thumb along his underside. It's his turn to gasp. He sits up and collapses his lips into yours, softer than rose petals and his taste faintly like wine.

You place your hand on his chest, and his heart is pounding, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his honeylike complexion.

Hastily, you pull your dress over your head and lean back to allow him to familiarize himself with your stark form, a dainty chain hanging between your bosom. Jungkook bites his lips as he wriggles out of his clothing, desposing of it beside the bed.

He's giddy behind those sultry eyes, you know him well enough that he's overexcited to get inside of you. It goes straight to his cock, your playfulness as you feel up his bare shoulders and discover his abdominals, your fingers tracing his ridges with a sense of innocent wonder.

He takes your hands and looks at you in this way-- Butterflies fill your stomach instantly. Jungkook's thumbing at your pout with his intrepid fingers.

His eyes flutter when grip his base and submerge your upper body below his hips. You lick a long, thick stripe up his underside, causing his breath to hitch and his head to fall back on to the bed.

Those goddamn cupid's bow lips of his would whisper the dirtiest things under his breath, lewd thoughts that sounded completely alien coming from His Majesty's mouth, he said for you.

"Oh, such a pretty mouth~ It's so good, y/n, you swallow me so good--" he moaned like a mantra, trying to keep his hips from snapping up into you. Your hot, wet tongue wrapped around his throbbing cock was only a fantasy to him for years.

He fills your throat with his girth, his taste tantalizingly smooth. It leaves your mouth with a 'pop.' You struggle to keep your legs apart as you crawl up to kiss him.

He takes those fingers of his and slides his index and middle into you and languidly thrusts them, smirking against your lips. "Shit, you liked that, hmm..."

"Kookie...please," you whine as he squeezes your ass hard before smacking it. You yelp, the sting of his fingers radiating from your skin.

"I like it when you beg, y/n, it's so cute..." He pulls your ass up to his thighs. He's flush hard against your abdomen, already sticky with his precum and your spit. You marvel at the self control he has.

You don't finish your thought before he has his head inside of you, impaling you on his cock and stretching your entrance, hissing at how incredible it felt to have you around him.

His shaft reached pleasure points within you had yet to discover. You clench, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. "Wh... hngh," he groans, "how did you do that, do it again--" You wrap your legs around his thighs and clench around him, biting your lip. You watch as he shivers from pleasure, feeling his skin horripilate under your touch.

His thumb is softly circling above your clit as he pulls out of you carefully. He swirls back in, nestling himself inside your heat, hissing. "Ahh~ Jungkook~!" At the sound of his first name moaned out of your mouth, he groans and rolls his hips up to create messy friction. That familiar knot in your stomach tingles as he plays with the bundle of nerves buried within you.

He glances up at your ruined lips, clashing with them again as he lifts your knees up with his hands and thrusts nice and rough, making you yell with every jolt of his cock. The smell and sound of sex fills the room as he experiments with positions, laying you on all fours.

"Get your ass up for me." You obey, ever servile. You're reminded-- you're his servant. He owns your work, he owns your services, and now he wants you in the most lucrative way, he wants your soaked cunt around his imperial cock. He gets what he wants.

Jungkook's palms smack against your ass one more time, just to watch the way it jiggles for him. He smirks a little before he shoves himself into your pretty little cunt. You bury your face into the pillows in pelasure as he chases your orgasm with vigor, fingering your clitoris while you move your hips back to meet his hard thrusts.

You whine like a harlot, his cock allowing you every satisfaction as he works a head-spinning orgasm out of that cunt. "I'm gonna cum, Kookie~!" you warn as you spasm against his length, moans ripping from your throat as you coat him with your thick juices.

His hips stutter up and he just barely pulls himself completely from you as he paints your back white, a guttural groan escaping his mouth.

After a while of loud panting and scattered giggling, Jungkook reaches over for a wet cloth and cleans the both of you gingerly. You trail your hands up to caress his jaw and kiss his lips softly.

"You need to tell everyone that I had a long and extensive request for the Harvest party, that I wanted a lot of fall fruits and vegetables featured in the baked goods, make it as specific as possible and make sure that you mention that I want to meet with you again, over dinner." His labored breathing punctuate his words, as youd kisses consume him. "And..."

"And?" You cock an eyebrow, simpering.

"Doyouthinkmaybeyoucouldbringmesomemilktogowithmycake?" He mumbles, eyes glued on the bed.

"What?" (If you give a Kookie a Cookie...)

Disgruntled, he sighs and repeats: "Milk! Milk for my cake. I know it's moist cause you made it but I'm really thirsty, especially after..." His cheeks flush a cute pink. You wait for him to continue just to fluster him a little more. "Y/N, just please!" You can't ever refuse his pouty face.

Next week, Jungkook's got you pinned against the hallway wall, making out with you hungrily as his hands ride up your dress. Just across the hall, his Dad is negotiating war with Portugal over land in the West.

The next month, you have his cock buried in your throat underneath the table at an important conference about how to create jobs.

All this while the pressure for Jungkook to find a bride continues to rise as he reaches seniority, and as his father's grey hairs pronounce themselves.

Warm touches are always hidden away to the public eye, but often shared between two kindred spirits underneath the man in the moon's watchful eye. Jungkook, as he reaches his maturity, grows strong. His jaw sharpens, and his eyes darken. His hair grows long, and he gains weight. Now at the proud age of 20, Jungkook had become a man before everyone's eyes, including the eyes of foreign monarchs and their eligible bachelorettes.

One day, you're serving the Royal family at a private dinner, when the topic of marriage comes up for the first time since his birthday.

"Your mother has made friends with the mother of the Austrian Princess, and she's invited you to the cordial ball to introduce yourself to the Princess. An allyship with Austria would prove advantageous for our relations with France, so you are to make your best impression." The King wipes his mouth. Setting his fork down, he continues: "It is in the family's best interest for you to marry her, if the French Princess, Anastasie, does not present this season or the next." The Queen holds the King's hand firmly, reassuring him from his shoulder. She wears a slight frown on her face, her eyes worrisome, somber. The King hides his anxiety, as he's been accustomed to from decades of responsibility. Would this be the face of Jungkook soon?

For now, Jungkook's face is scrunching at the thought of marrying Anastasie. She's not the most delightful young woman, her imprudence ruined her enjoyment of any event. She couldn't keep an intuitive conversation about regional politics and domestic policy for the life of her. Her people were on the brink of overthrowing the aristocracy, he was sure of it.

"Yes, father," is what you hear from him before you disappear down the stairs to fetch desserts.

Jiyoo interrupts your quest for sweets with a letter, signed by His Grace. She has a naturally innocent demeanor, her cheeks rosy and her frame as delicate as a feather. "Y/N, you have another special request from His Majesty...can I ask you why you get so many of these?" She looks genuinely curious, not a single menacing thought behind those eyes.

"It's because the Prince really really loves his cake." I mean, technically it was true. Jungkook never passed up an opportunity to squeeze, smack, or dig his fingernails into your ass during your sessions.

"Oh." Jiyoo pouts. "So it's not because you're like, in love or anything?" Her eyes are glued to the floor. You were expecting this question eventually, as the other girls in the kitchen were already suspecting it. It was only a matter of time before word slipped into the girl's ears.

"As much as I enjoy the Prince's interest in my baking, it isn't my place to confess any sort of feeling for him." Your answer is straightforward enough, so Jiyoo nods and hands you the letter. Another request.

Outside the Palace, Winter came like the wind. Lakes froze over, and couples tied up their skates and danced on the ice. The trees were bare and brown, not a single leaf persisting through the chilling breath of Jack Frost.

Jungkook had left for the Winter Palace, to volunteer and raise spirits up in the North. As heir to the throne, he was to be Commander in Chief of the Royal Armed Forces, and therefore needed to undergo intensive training in order to boost morale.

You're back home, and in your wake is your father, who has now grown tangibly tired. He's been on a strict diet of warm vegetable soup for about three months, now. His eyes are sunken, but he still wears a subtle smile even during his most trying days.

Match girls make their rounds at night, you watch as the lamplighters illuminate the streets with their tall ladders and their taller peacoats. Shop windows glow warm shades of yellow and creme; inscriptions on the glass create shadows on the white snow.

"Wow. It's almost as cold as the King's heart out here." You step outside one day with a cup of tea, sneaking in a cheeky smirk. Yeah, good one.

"I heard that!" You turn towards the little voice. A child, maybe about 9 or 10 years old is pointing at you. You squint at it.

"Well, it's true..." You mumble. You have a bit of change in your pocket, so you walk towards a stand to buy a hot bun and a paper.

"Chilly today, hon...Best you take this on the house." The tenant hands you a steaming cake wrapped in a simple cloth and your paper. You stick the paper in your dress pocket and take back your change. You nod a 'thank you.'

You spill the contents of your pockets on the dining table and snatch the paper, snapping it open. Your eyes eagerly skim the headline: "Prince Jungkook Fires Up Royal Army." Below is an article detailing the happenings of His Majesty. All of it sounded very intense, the running, strategizing, first aid training...Was there anything Prince Jeon couldn't nail on the first try?

You set the paper down and pick up your now lukewarm tea. In the back of your mind you're coping with the fact that the Spring Solstice is next week, and that marks the beginning of Jungkook's last season as a Prince.

The King is ill with tuberculosis, and recovery is unlikely. If Jungkook is to marry, it is next season and that was final.

Sitting at the window of his Winter Castle study, Jungkook plays with a ring nestled between his fingers. He looks out onto the lake, as if he's trying to reach you with his gaze. His heart is tight knowing that it would be the season he chooses his bride. Actually, he'd already made up his mind long ago. If his duty was to marry, there was no way to evade such a responsibility. He had to fulfill it, despite his anxieties.

He straightens up and walks out of the hollow room with a firm step.

You awaken with the sound of horse's hooves thudding against the Earth. It is yet to be dawn, and in the distance, thunder roars mightily.

A figure wearing a long, black hood hoists itself off of the animal, tying it to a nearby post. It walks towards an obscure entrance, unknown to many staff.

Intrigued, you wrap a blanket around yourself and peek out at the stranger. His fingers are shorter than his palms, and that's when he tosses of his hood, his eyes set on you. "Y/N..."

You're bewildered by his guise, questions filling your head.

"I was horny, so I left camp" He sits down at the counter, catapulting a cookie into his mouth.

You roll your eyes. "And the guards let you?! Jungkook!" You whisper-yelled at him, readjusting your makeshift blanket-dress.

"Obviously not!" He puffed out his chest with pride. "I bribed them," he smirks.

"You're insufferable," you scoff, your eyes wandering down to observe his physique. His shirt is anything but conservative, highlighting the muscle he'd earned through laborious, sweat-inducing drills. You can feel his eyes on your face as you observe him.

"You can't hide it either," he crosses his arms. "You're standing in the kitchen with a blanket around your naked body." He flicks his tongue. He steps forward, putting a finger under your jaw so you're looking him in the eye.

Your eyes fill with lust as he speaks over your lips. "Look at yourself..." A crash is heard in the other room.

Jungkook's head darts up and in a flash, he disappears into the night.

'Fuck.' You gather your dress from the floor and shuffle back to your chamber.

The first event of the season commences with the most exaltant of spirits as friends of old greet each other with youthful smiles. Juicy exposés, enticing tales, and thoughtful greetings are exchanged in the most formal manner, and the conversation is lively; the most controversial topic of conversation, however, is the rumor that Jungkook is to marry this season.

So far, he's been to four different private residences within his own Kingdom and has been invited, by the secretary of King Louis XVII to meet their daughter. It would be an understatement to say that stakes were high for the pending King.

You were kneading your dough a little too hard thinking about it. "Not so rough, y/n!" Ms.Kang snatches the mixture from your hands. "What is up with you lately, you're so tense! It's really disrupting the kitchen's dynamic."

You shrug it off. "It's going to be hard sedating Anastasie's sweet tooth, I suppose."

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine dealing with Jungkook's addiction to cakes...She's perfect for him, really." Ms.Kang throws more flour on your kneading table and steps off. You give up on the dough, covering it with a cloth and letting it rise.

Jungkook is tapping his feet, munching on finger sandwiches as he waits on you to make an appearance.

"Dearest Prince, look, I am wearing Mediterranean violet!" A duchess shouts as she passes by him, to which he raises his eyebrows at. Another, with dark green eyes approaches and begins speaking rapidly in French at him. Frightened and undereducated, his canned response was: "Excusez-moi, Pouvez-vous répéter plus lentement s'il vous plaît," to which the duchess furrows her eyebrows before something else catches her attention, elsewhere.

Truth is, Jungkook is incredibly shaken at the thought of announcing his engagement tonight. Well, that and the fact that you had yet to pop out of the kitchen. Man, those finger sandwiches were good.

As the night progresses, Jungkook realizes that if he doesn't get up on that platform and say what he needed to say, he'd have to say it in London. Setting his fears aside, he plants himself on top of the orchestral stage and taps a champagne glass with a cheese fork. The music comes to a stop.

With conviction, he begins: "The time has come that I announce my engagement. To all of my beloved friends, who have introduced me to the most beautiful, talented, diverse, and benevolent ladies I've come to get to know over the years, I thank you from the depths of my soul." He swallows and continues, his confident voice masking his trembling. "The life of a Prince is defined by the virtues presented to him at birth. Those virtues are: duty, responsibility, grace, kindness, mercy and integrity." Here comes the part, oh shit.

"I am abdicating my throne to my Cousin, the Duke of Namseong."

Silence sweeps the room. You poke your head out to see what was going on.

"...to marry the love of my life, y/n." He points at you. Your face is cherry red, and you find yourself dropping those same Danish fucking pastries all over the carpet.

"Shit," you fall on your knees, plucking them from the ground one by one. You don't know whether to run as fast as you can or to present yourself, but your body seems to be currently doing the latter. You go along with it.

Jungkook takes your hand tenderly on the stage. "I am unable to perform my duties as King, and therefore am ineligible for the throne." His touch gives you the will to continue beside him. You feel the pure fear rushing through your love's veins, and he knows that this is the hardest thing he'll ever have to do, yet he stands by his announcement.

So, if Jungkook doesn't get to be King of this World, he at least will forever be the King of Your Heart.

But all this, of course...is all in Your, dear reader, Head.

~

a/n:

hope you enjoyed.

[tommyspeakycap]

One where you’re fwb with Ben chilwell and no one else knows but he doesn’t want the two of you to be a secret anymore and he gets upset because he thinks you don’t want anyone to know about the two of you

please don’t say you love me

ben learns the pain of loving someone who does not want to be loved

The way your chest rises and falls rapidly matches almost perfectly with how Ben’s does; both sheened in a slight cover of sweat with hearts thudding erratically beneath the surface. You’re still flushed, wiping the sweat from your hairline with the back of your hand as Ben lays still. He’s trying to embrace this moment, embrace the feeling of you laying there next to him. Not under him, not over him.

Next to him.

He knows so painfully well that this is something that will not last. Unless he initiates another round, you won’t remain where you lie in his bed for longer than a few more minutes. He wants nothing more than to roll over, throw his arms around you and keep you there forever, still leaking him from your oversensitive core. But he’d settle even for holding you through the night.

That rarely happens. Only a handful of times has Ben been able to have you for the whole night and each time that he does, it only ever serves to cause him more pain for the nights that you refuse.

And as sure as his mind is racing, you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed already. He hopes at first that all you’re doing is going to the bathroom, but the way you begin to gather your clothes suggests that’s not the case.

“You could stay? It’s really late.” Ben says suddenly, his words blurted out of his face in a haste to have them out before you were gone. "Nah, it's alright. I'll get out of your hair for tonight; got uni tomorrow anyway." You shrug. If you have any of the same desires as Ben, then you certainly don't show it in your lackadaisical nature towards whatever it is that you have together.

He's told his friends about you, in fact you are one of his most talked about topics to them. They've met you so few times you probably would only require one hand to count those occasions. You never went to anything together, were never seen together in public and though try as he might, you always turned down Ben's invitations to go out with his mates and their girls.

Admittedly, this had raised flags right from the start, especially with Mason. He was the only one who knew and he could really see that this was something that could never end well for Ben. The left-back looks the part of someone who enjoys a sex-only relationship, but if you really actually know who Ben is even remotely on a personal level, it's clear that he's a massive lover. He's overly physically affectionate because that's how he expresses his love. It's how he likes to be loved and it always means so much to him. He's soft and he just wants to give love.

It had now become clear to Ben that he wanted more than just sex. Everyone had suspected that something had been going on between you and Ben for a while, but seeing Ben being sulky and defeated about it day after day was new. Unrequited love is one of the most painful feats in the entire world and this one that Ben is in is no different.

There's very little emotion in the way of this for you, and even if there was he's sure that no one would be able to tell. You have this outer shell of complete carelessness.

Nobody has any doubt that you care about Ben, you very clearly do. You encourage him to tell you what's on his mind, listen to his worries and all of his struggles while giving him your full belief and utter support. It's when it comes to the opposite way around that you come up short. Ben wants you to share with him the same way that he shares with you. He wishes you could take the same comfort in his presence as that he takes in yours, but you just don't. You'll shrug it off, laugh away the situation and say there's nothing that really bothers you. Nothing weighs on your mind and Ben can see right through this.

But there's just nothing in the world that seems to make you want to open up to him.

In essence, you're friends. Just friends who fall into bed together more often than not.

The sound of his front door closing behind you allows him to finally let out the sigh he had been holding since you shot down yet another ask to stay. You never did, never stayed the night in his bed or spent enough time for Ben to relax around you, always on edge about when you would walk out the door again.

Ben presses the hells of his palms into his eyes, groaning loudly to himself. Behind those closed eyes he can still see the shape of your body, eyes fluttering, mouth parted as he rocks his hips slowly against yours. His hair would tickle your face and you will always, always giggle in a way that makes his heart skip a beat. It's the same way you giggle through hums of pleasure as he kisses along your chest as his loose strands of hair brush against your neck and collarbone, eliciting gentle laughter he loves with everything that he has.

Truly what you had was always meant to be a fling. Just a friendly fuck when one needed the other. For you, that's still exactly what it was and Ben never expected you to think anything else of it. You're the kind of person who just doesn't get emotionally invested.

Two years ago, you might have. Two years ago, you used to love and you loved to be loved. You were a lover. You hadn't always been like this. It just took one serious relationship and one case of long term cheating to put you off seemingly for life. Ben curses the idiot of a man who had done that to you for more than just hurting you. He feels guilt for wanting you to break up with him before you ever did, forever wanting you to be his instead of someone else. But not he curses that idiot for ruining you the way that he had.

It was part of the agreement. No feelings. No getting attached and no having to be committed to the other. You were always complaining about how much commitment your other hookups wanted and now Ben knows that he can't even bring it up or you'll call it quits.

You were friends before you were ever like this, but now he has you halfway between being friends and lovers. Suspended in the place between being able to tell you he loves you and having to keep his mouth firmly shut as he comes undone because he knows he'll say something he'll come to regret.

"You home!"

Ben jumps, the rough round sound of the door slamming compared to how you had softly closed it this morning surprising him. In fact, you had never in all the time you'd known Ben slammed a door like that. "Yeah." He calls back, turning off his tap and setting the wet glass on the drying rack by his sink.

"I need you to fuck me, Ben." You announce, chucking down your bag with a thunk onto the floor. "What?" He asks, one eyebrow quirked. This was very not like you. "He's getting married so I need you to fuck me so hard I can't ever remember my name." Your shoes are kicked off promptly as tug your hoodie over your head to stand in front of him in your bra only. "Wait, what happ-"

You cut him off with your lips pressed firmly into his, your body flush against his. Ben doesn't waste time after that, ordering you to jump so he can carry you up the stairs into his bedroom. Your hands make quick work of freeing him from his shorts before he pushes you down onto the bed, standing there in only his boxers and you in your underwear. You don't seem to be bothered taking it off yourself, waiting for him to crawl over you.

The way you avoid his eyes is alarming and for some reason, begins to turn him off. "(y/n) are you sure you're-"

"Don't, Ben. Just go." You interrupt him again, hands dipping into the waistband of his boxers to give him a few rubs before lining him up with your entrance. He teases your folds delicately with his tip, testing the waters before he releases you're completely dry. You're usually absolutely dripping for him, soaking through your panties in anticipation to take him in you. With just his tip in you despite the wriggling of your body attempting to get him to push in further with your lips between your teeth to stop it from quivering.

"Ben please."

His eyebrows furrow, his face softening as he finally meets your eyes. Filled with tears. "You're not okay." He says strongly, tucking himself back into his boxers. "No," you protest, "I'm fine. I just need..I just need- need- I-"

Your words are ceased by the sob that breaks out of your lips, a shaky hand raised to cover it. Ben slides his arms under your back, between the soft mattress and you, using those strong arms to haul you up carefully off the bed so you're cuddled into his bare chest.

"It's okay." Ben soothes softly, his hand rubbing calming circles on your back as he cradles you to him. "You're okay. I've got you. You’ve got me, and I…” Ben paused tenaciously, trailing off his words as he waits for the courage to find him.

Your tears wet his chest, but Ben couldn’t care less until you start to fight him, pushing your way out of his arms to scamper off the bed. Ben looks at you, surprised as you race around grabbing your hoodie off the floor while pulling up your leggings. He hurries down the stairs after you, swiping hastily at your tears as you search for your shoes.

“(y/n) wait!” He calls after you, leaping down the last few steps. “I need to-”

“Please don’t.” You plead, shaking your head at him. The blotted mess of your face as those tears pour over your cheeks breaks his heart. “Please don’t say it.” You beg, swallowing the lump in your throat. Ben runs a hand through his hair roughly, heaving a sigh. His heart is hamming in his chest, his eyes fighting tears of their own. Ben doesn’t know how you know what he’s going to say, but he can see in your face that you know.

“But i do. I love you.”

There’s a beat of silence before that door slams closed at your back once again.

[babyybitchhh]

Shigaraki x Reader 18+

Title: Crybaby

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 12,290

Warnings: I'll be honest and say I'm not entirely sure how to tag some of this so proceed with caution. Infantilization, forced age regression, mental age regression, non consensual regression, ageplay, mentions of baby bottles and pacifiers, coercion, general noncon and dubcon, diddling, vaginal fingering, involuntary urination, wetting, mention of forced third party bathing, diapers, penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, creampie, excessive use of 'Tomu-nii', mention of sex slaves, a brief but explicitly violent death mention towards the start, overall very questionable decisions from both me and Shigaraki

A/N: I will not be taking any questions at this time, thank you.

( @tomurasprincess)

♥♥♥♥

There was a fine line between a gift and a burden.

A new video game, for example, is something people were generally happy to receive and there was no obligation to slave over it at all hours of the day, unless you wanted to. A puppy, on the other hand, came with a certain amount of responsibility that couldn’t be side lined until Tomura decided to deal with it. There was no save button, no coming back to it later. He had to be vigilant to some degree, mindful of the life that was now in his hands, and that wasn’t something he was accustomed to by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn’t stand it. Didn’t even really possess the vernacular needed to describe exactly how much it pissed him off that he was suddenly expected to take care of someone - something else.

It was bullshit.

Standing over your prone form sprawled out on the cluttered floor he thinks, not for the first time, about ending it right here and now. It would be easy, surely. One touch of his hand and you’d be gone. Disintegrated to mere dust and nothing more than a vague, unpleasant memory in the back of his mind. You deserved it by simple virtue of being such a damn inconvenience but, just as every other time, he hesitates.

Not because you don’t even realize the danger you’re in as you innocently kick your legs back and forth in the air, all your wide eyed, dopey attention locked on the tv screen. Tomura is not so soft as to consider a sneak attack you don’t even see coming an insult to his pride. He would’ve been showing you mercy, actually, because if he didn’t fear upsetting All for One so much he’d have preferred to wrap his hands around your scrawny little neck instead. Give you a good throttle or two. Squeeze until his knuckles were a stark white against your purpling blue skin. He could almost envision what you would look like, all bloated and full of blood from burst capillaries and reddened eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

His cock stirs in his pants and his hatred for you grows with it. He couldn’t stand you or what you represented, a sudden addition to his life that he never asked for but couldn’t get rid of, and the fact he was getting stiff from his morbid fantasies was certainly your fault too. Everything was your fault. Right down to the most minor of inconveniences, you were to blame - even if it happened before you were dropped into his lap with all the to-do of a posh, overly indulgent birthday present. It was you. You, you, you, you you you youyouyouyouyou -

“Tomu-nii?”

With a jolt, he snaps out of it. The haze lifts and his blown out eyes focus in on your tubby little face, now turned over your shoulder to glance back at him. Tomura isn’t sure when you realized he was looming over you like some horrible, sickly wraith and he knows even less how it is that you show no fear towards him. Were you really so stupid that you couldn’t sense his desire to not only kill you but make you suffer? So blind that you didn’t see the way his bony hands fisted at his sides with a purpose and not in idle reflex?

No. It wasn’t that you were as unintelligent as a brain dead sheep happily trotting off to slaughter. Rather, it’s because that was what All for One had designed you to be.

Tomura wouldn’t claim to understand how, exactly, his mentor had gotten these results but he knows enough to recognize the signs. You’d been stripped of everything in a way that far exceeded mere surface level nudity. All for One had gone even deeper than that, past flesh and bone and right into the heart of what made you you. The brain.

He had no doubt that a quirk had been used, the specifics of which he couldn’t even begin to fathom, but the tinkering and rewiring had done its job exceedingly well, in fact. While your body was that of a young adult woman, early to mid 20’s if he had to wager a guess, your mind was something like that of a toddlers. You could speak just fine but the enunciation was sloppy, your words childish and limited to small, easily communicable sentences. You picked up on things surprisingly fast, perhaps even a little too well if the way he’d heard you let out a soft, half hearted ‘fuck’ earlier was anything to go by. But you slipped up just as easily and he was getting real tired of making sure you went and sat on the toilet instead of pissing all over his (no doubt already smelly) carpet. Living in his own mess was one thing. Living in someone else’s was another matter entirely.

Nothing about this was in error, though. You were exactly what All for One intended for you to be - little more than an animal for him to look after but with arguably higher stakes involved - and he’d had enough. It’d only been a single day, a full 24 hours since you were dropped into his room, and he was already at the end of his patience.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like that stupid cartoon I put on for you?”

You actually had the audacity to pout at him, jutting your lower lip out and puffing your cheeks as if that was supposed to make him feel anything other than an even stronger urge to take you out of this world. “S’not that. Mm’ just bored. You’re no fun.”

Tomura very nearly lunges at you with outstretched hands, All for One be damned, but your next words stop him in his tracks.

“I thought maybe you were coming to play with me.”

Play with you? He would’ve laughed if only he could find even a sliver of real humor in this situation. This was a joke, if not because of the absurdity of it all then at least because he wanted to play with you alright. He wanted to play a game that started with you screaming in shrill terror and ended with a chilly body laid out on his bedroom floor. That sounded like more fun than a barrel of kittens.

He stills himself, though, and snobbishly peers at you down the length of his nose. “I don’t play games with brats. Sorry.”

That only makes you pout even more. “Meanie.”

“Watch your fucking cartoon,” Tomura grits out through gnashing, angry teeth, unreasonably irritated by your persistent refusal to cooperate. “Before I make you.”

He isn’t even really sure if that threat makes any sense at this point, so thrown off by your mere presence in what should’ve been his space that he can barely make heads or tails of his own thoughts anymore. But the dramatic way you squawk in displeasure and throw yourself out flat on the floor placates him somewhat. You were easy to rile up, and he would have been a boldfaced liar if he’d said he didn’t get a kick out of that. Tomura had never felt quite so cruel, so much like an adolescent bully looking to make his problems someone else’s as when he was working you up into a proper fit.

It was easily the most enjoyable aspect of this arrangement so far, and he watches with nothing short of smug satisfaction as you pound your hands on the floor in pent up frustration. It was laughably easy to picture what they’d look like, well groomed after a manicure and with a fresh coat of polish on the nails. You looked like you’d probably been the sort of woman who would go with reds. Fierce and bold, as much a statement as your pretty face, which was currently scrunched up and pressed tight against the carpet in front of his tv. Those same hands were plain and unadorned now, squeezed into tight little fists that were about as harmless as they could get. Tomura probably would’ve considered a turtle more of a pressing threat than you right now.

“Crybaby.” He spits the word out like it’s poison. “Does that make you feel better? Huh? Throwing a tantrum just because you’re not getting your way?”

“Mm’ not a crybaby!” You scream into the carpet. The contrast between your plushy figure and your behavior is disturbing on some very real, intrinsic level and that only seems to add fuel to his fire.

“Hah! That’s funny. You certainly look like one, you know that? What would you even think of yourself if you were in your right mind, I wonder.”

“Mm’ not!” Your incessant screeching rises in pitch and Tomura is almost positive you aren’t even really hearing him anymore, but he decides he doesn’t care.

“Embarrassing. Maybe I should have Kurogiri bring me a bottle since you want to act like a baby so much. Or would you like a pacifier instead? Hmm? Would that make you feel better, princess?”

“Nooooo!”

Your feet start kicking the air again, violently rather than in placid distraction, and the motion draws Tomura’s gaze to the seat of your onesie. Pink and humiliatingly infantile for a grown woman to be wearing, he’d looked at it with nothing short of contempt up until now. But the (no doubt exhausting) flex of your legs bunches the loose cotton, making it gather around your upturned ass and in turn emphasizes the convenient button flap across the back. Now that he’s actually looking at it, he’s almost positive it was wide enough to expose your entire rear to the world with little more than a quick snap of his fingers. Maybe even wide enough to expose other things too …

Tomura jolts with all the force of a sudden electric shock when you cry out his name or, rather, the ridiculous moniker you’d given him. He’d like to know who’d planted that particular seed in your head - if it was All for One’s idea of a twisted joke or if Kurogiri had really thought being called niichan by a woman who may or may not actually be older than him would make Tomura feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It doesn’t exactly matter now, though, because the wet quality of your voice makes his cock spring up in his pants. He’s mildly horrified with himself, far more comfortable with his earlier fantasies of killing you, but there’s no helping it anymore. Not when you say his name like that. Not when the tears he’d initially thought were crocodilian at best were so thick and heavy in your throat that the syllables come out garbled and almost incomprehensible.

He’s not sure what he intends to do, but he shuffles closer.

You’ve started to tire out now and the kicking slows before stopping all together. He watches your ankles cross over one another in the air, as if you were trying to self soothe on some level by physically keeping yourself together, but it doesn’t seem to do much in the way of good. Your shoulders were still trembling with the lingering traces of your fit, and he can hear you mewling into the abrasive carpet like a wounded animal. It was clear that you were hurting because of him - and not just as a result of his teasing. After the complete and utter deconstruction of your mind, you were probably scared without even really knowing why. Confused, but too lost in the quirk induced stupor that had left you in this sorry state to seek out answers.

He hadn’t bothered to test this theory yet, but Tomura would have been willing to bet good money that All for One left you with very little inside that thick skull of yours. It just made sense, after all. For what good was a doll with memories of her past life? What would he have possibly gotten out of playing house with someone who fought him every step of the way, either out of embarrassment or repulsion towards him as a person?

No. You were a blank slate in the strictest sense. His to mold however he deemed fit and with no recollection of who you were, who you’d been or even who you’d wanted to be, he was free to do whatever he damn well pleased.

There was still raging contempt for you burning within his chest, certainly. You were an annoying, unnecessary burden on him and there was no getting around the fact that he still wanted you gone. But the spark igniting his gut is even stronger and, for better or worse, it momentarily overrides his better judgement.

So he sinks down onto his knees, directly behind you, and reaches out to tentatively palm the swell of your ass. Pinky held away, so as not to disintegrate you, which surprises him somewhat given how vivid his fantasies of killing you had been. He doesn’t get to linger on that for very long though, because you grow still at his touch and your pathetic sniveling quiets to a soft, almost hopeful sniffle. Tomura bites back a crude snort, just barely managing to catch himself before he backpedals and hisses another insult at you. He could probably take what he wanted with any given method, he didn’t have to be nice about it, but somehow the alternative just felt wrong. Physically you were an adult, but with the mental state of a child it felt a bit like taking advantage of an innocent and he wasn’t a complete monster.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, the word foreign on his tongue. “I shouldn’t have been so mean. Will you forgive me?”

You squirm and push your face further into the carpet. “Mhm.”

He doesn’t smile. But he does take that as an incentive to push forward, and he starts caressing your backside with slow, cautious circles. “Do you really want me to play with you that bad?”

“Mhm.”

Hesitating, Tomura considers his next words very carefully. “Fine. I’ll play with you. But I get to choose the game.”

You don’t immediately respond and he starts to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Overestimated his ability to be diplomatic and conscientious - which wouldn’t exactly have come as a surprise. But then you shift on the floor, tension draining from your body as you turn your head so you aren’t suffocating in the carpet anymore. “Okay.”

His brows lift in surprise only to then knit together. It was that easy? He’s not so sure he trusts it but, dropping his gaze back down to your ass, he gives the doughy soft flesh an experimental squeeze. Your only response is a soft, faltering sigh that seems to help you relax more. This, too, seems a little too good to be true but he keeps going anyway.

When a few minutes of kneading your defenseless backside does nothing to upset you, Tomura starts to get bolder. He slowly brings his opposite hand forward and latches onto the other cheek with four fingers, massaging both sides in tandem. He’d had the unfortunate luck of seeing your bare ass late the previous evening, after you’d emptied your bladder all over the blanket he’d tossed you to sleep on which had resulted in an aggressively administered bath for you and a frustrated headache for him. He hadn’t paid too much attention at the time, far too angry to be horny, but he knew enough to realize that you were unexpectedly voluptuous under that onesie.

The garment itself was so oversized it hid even the smallest hint of the womanly figure underneath. He probably would’ve forgotten all about it, pushed to the back of his mind in favor of more pressing matters (like getting rid of you) but now that he’s got his hands on your butt it’s all he can think about. The way your full tits jiggled when he’d non too gently manhandled you into the tub. The frustratingly cute lower belly pouch that bulged when you sat down, crying, on the porcelain surface. The way your thighs molded to whatever position he’d yanked them in so he could hose you off like a filthy stray. He’d actively avoided looking at what was between your legs, in fear of what he’d see as much as stubborn refusal, but looking back on it now he isn’t sure how he hadn’t given in to temptation.

Now, however, he was suddenly more interested than ever in finding out what your pussy looked like and, hooking his long index fingers into the flap, he starts to unlatch it one button at a time.

You make no move to stop him. Don’t even protest or question what he’s doing. It’s almost as if just having his attention on you is enough, and Tomura’s mouth pulls back in a sneer at the mere thought. You were so damn stupid for trusting him like this, completely oblivious or uncaring about what his intentions were. He could be as violent with you as he wanted. He could erase you from this existence with the briefest touch. But you just lay there, your shoulders slowly rising and falling with each even breath you draw, and he can’t decide if that feeling clawing at the back of his throat is hatred or guilt.

But there’s no real reason to stop now, so he carefully peels back the flap of fabric once he’s got it completely unfastened. Bare skin greets him, a perfectly exposed strip of swelling flesh that seems all the more enticing with pink cotton framing it so nicely. He pauses long enough to lick his dry, cracked lips. The weight of his stiff cock strains against the inside of his zipper, twitching eagerly when he reaches out to hesitantly touch your back side again.

The sensation of a real, living person under his fingertips makes his breath come a little faster. Still, you don’t move though and he picks up right where he left off, roughly groping your ass cheeks with barely contained excitement until he gets so vigorous that you whimper.

“Shh. I’ll try not to be so rough.” Tomura shushes you, throaty and barely more than a murmur.

You settle back into place, thankfully, and he takes that chance to spread your cheeks open. He gets a brief glimpse of the puckered hole hidden inside, white hot static racing straight to his groin, and he lets out a rumbling groan. His fingers squeeze into flesh again and he pulls, baring you entirely to his voracious eyes. The tight muscle twitches, winking at him, and his attention drops to the smallest satiny peak of your slit. He can just barely see it, mostly hidden behind the pooling fabric bunched under the swell of your ass, but it’s more than enough to make him feel dizzy.

“Shit,” he sounds winded even to his own ears. “You’ve got such a nice body.”

To his surprise, you actually perk up at that. “Really?”

Tomura almost snaps at you on impulse, so irritated by the sound of your voice that he nearly forgets what he’s trying to do. Quelling himself, though, he tugs at the bottom half of your onesie until he can see the plushy soft lips of your pussy. You look so inviting, so warm and real he can hardly even stand it.

“Really.” He croaks. “How old are you again?”

You seem to think about that. “Mm, I dunno’!”

He frowns. Contemplates that for a long beat. But the coarse hair curling around your slit seems answer enough, for him at least. You weren’t actually a child. You just sounded like one, acted like one, dressed like one. That wasn’t what was getting him so painfully hard though. It was the fact you were a woman, physically, and he’d never gotten to see one up close and personal like this before. Why hadn’t All for One just given him a proper sex slave instead of one that threw tantrums and cried at the drop of a dime? Was this really what his mentor had intended for him to do with you?

“Tomu-nii?”

Drawing a sharp breath, he brings his attention up to bark at you to be quiet but the words catch when he finds you looking at him over your shoulder. He can feel his cheeks starting to warm, suddenly embarrassed.

“What?”

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

He flounders for a moment. Then, awkwardly clearing his throat, he decides to fall back on his original excuse. “This is the game I mentioned earlier. You wanted to play, right?”

You nod your head, but you don’t look entirely certain about that. “I do but … aren’t games s’posed to be fun? This is boring!”

His mouth presses into a thin line. It hadn’t occurred to him that you might not be content to just idly sit by while he molested your slutty little body, but if it was fun you wanted then he could certainly give you that. “This was just the warm up. Roll over and I’ll show you how to play.”

The way your eyes light up almost makes him regret this decision. It’s too late though, you’re already twisting over on to your back with your elbows braced on the carpet so you can stare up at him. Stupid and expectant.

He clicks his tongue.

Reaching out to grab your wide set hips with only eight of his fingers, he inelegantly drags you closer so that you were nicely slotted between his knees. Your legs curl up as you regard him with nothing short of intense curiosity, lips parting in a silent ‘o’ that very nearly sends him over the edge. You were too pretty for your own good. Much too beautiful to be wearing a pink onesie and acting like a baby. This was such a waste, and he almost feels bad for what All for One did to you.

But he shrugs it off, forcefully, and his delicately poised hands descend on your zipper. Zrrrrrt, straight down the length of your body. It stops directly above your crotch and he reaches up to reverently push the cotton out to the sides and expose the rest of you.

Your tits were even better than he’d initially thought. They were full and heavy, dotted with the most perfect little buds for nipples. Soft and smooth. Tomura’s mouth waters in anticipation and he doesn’t realize how roughly he’s jerking your arms out of the sleeves until you wail dramatically that it hurts.

He’d like to tell you what really hurts is his cock, unbearably hard and trapped inside his pants, but he refrains. Instead, he huffs out an insincere apology and keeps on yanking. He can’t get you undressed fast enough, mesmerized by the way your breasts jiggle and bounce every time he pulls on you. There’s something inherently wrong about this, he knows. It’s so damn obvious you’re not right in the head, that you aren’t of sound enough mind to even understand what he’s doing to you, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you were so willing and pliant under his shaking hands.

Finally managing to wrest the blasted onesie off your kicking feet, Tomura tosses it off to the side and he eagerly sets his sights on your naked body. You should have looked seductive and coy, spread out in front of him with a devious smile curling artfully painted lips as you invite him to have his way with you. Instead, you fitfully squirm, neither seductive nor shy. It’s clear that you have no sense of shame, your artificially infantile brain completely void of the concept and even less aware of how inappropriate any of this was. You just keep looking at him, waiting for the explanation he’d promised to give you.

Oh. That’s right. The game he kept talking about. Perhaps he could still salvage this after all.

“The rules are simple,” he says slowly, scrambling to put together a decent excuse to keep going. “I’ll touch you for a little bit and if I can make you feel good then I win. After that, it’ll be your turn. If you make me feel good, you’ll win. Understand?”

Your expression pinches in confusion. “So we both win?”

“Only if we make each other feel good. What’s wrong? You don’t want to play with me anymore?”

Much to his relief, you quickly bob your head. “I do! Please play with me, Tomu-nii!”

The way his cock jolts at that makes his entire body ache. It’s much too late to turn back now, he was well past the point of salvation, and he haltingly drags his attention down to your chest. Your petite nipples had stiffened in the cool air but it’s as if you don’t even notice. Wasn’t that something a grown woman would be conscious of? He thinks so, or at least he’s pretty sure it is. Apparently it isn’t the sort of thing a dumb baby brain even registers, though, and he reaches out to curiously flick at one.

You gasp, eyes widening slightly. Misplaced hope sears his veins and he watches you intently, holding his breath, but you don’t seem to understand what it is you’re feeling. Your brows furrow as you glance down at yourself and bring a hand up to cover your nipple.

“Oww …”

That certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Or at least it wasn’t the sort of reaction Pornhub had taught him to expect, but it was still something.

“Baby.” He grumbles, reaching for the opposite tit.

“Mm’not!”

“Are too. Didn’t that feel good?”

“No!”

“Then you’re winning, aren’t you?”

Confusion marches across your face for a moment before understanding dawns. You look quite pleased now as you track the movement of his hand as he carefully pinches your puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently rolling it between the pads. He doesn’t get an immediate reaction out of you but the longer he does it the more your lips start to purse. It’s as if you were holding back, determined not to show him that you might be enjoying it and risk losing the game, but it’s enough to embolden him.

His ministrations pick up and he gives your delicate little teat a mild twist. There’s no malice or cruelty behind the action. He just wants to see what you’ll do. And you don’t disappoint, the way you jump and your mouth flies open as if to squawk making his stomach clench with something perverse. You catch yourself at the last second though, teeth clacking together as your gaze flits up at him to see if he’s looking.

He is, of course, and you forcibly swallow the sound you’d almost let out. Tomura is a bit disappointed, sure. He’d wanted to hear how pretty you’d moan for him but there were still plenty of other chances for him to coerce at least one out of you.

Hunching over your prone body, he brings his other hand up to latch onto the opposite nipple, the one he’d previously flicked. You wince at the contact but make no move to stop him, biting down on your lower lip to keep quiet as you watch him play with your fat tits in petulant silence. It was ass backwards in so many ways. He’d thought, despite everything, his first time with a girl would be somewhat normal. Maybe not picture perfect or all that good when everything was said and done, but at least relatively mundane. This was the farthest thing from that though. He couldn’t conceive of a more wildly abnormal scenario even if he’d tried, nor did he recall ever seeing any porn with this hyper specific set up. But there was still some sick, twisted part of him that was deriving pleasure from this decidedly unorthodox encounter with the opposite sex, and that feeling only grows exponentially the more he keeps going.

Kneading, pinching, squeezing, tugging. He doesn’t let up until your nipples are flushed dark and straining hard, the glistening hint of tears at the corners of your eyes telling him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was getting somewhere. The urge to call you a crybaby swells in his chest again but he doesn’t want to risk another tantrum. He wasn’t so sure his cock could handle it, particularly not when he’d positioned himself over you in such a way that one solid kick would put him out of commission for the foreseeable future. No, this was a delicate situation that required the utmost care on his part and, gathering his nerves, he swoops down to cover one of the stiff buds with his mouth.

The heated gasp that bursts out of you in a great woosh has him groaning into the meaty swell of your tit. You shudder underneath him, involuntarily twitching as he traces your areola with the tip of his tongue and laves it in warm, wet attention. He can tell that you’re not sure what to do so he waits with bated breath, reveling in the fleshy nub pinched between his lips. There was no reason for him not to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment he could get out of this while he could, after all - but then your hands find his hair, threading into wavy locks, and he throbs for you.

“Tomu-nii …”

He practically sinks into you, damn near suffocating himself in the plushy swell of your breast. His mouth opens wide and sucks more of you past his lips, suckling enthusiastically just like the infant you were programmed to be. This particular role reversal doesn’t even seem to register in your mind though and he seethes when you tug at his hair, trying to pull him off.

“St-aaahp …. I don’t like it!”

Tomura comes up off you with a wet gasp. “Bullshit.” He practically growls, narrowing his eyes at your dopey, flustered expression.

“It’s true! I don’t!”

“Oh? Should we check then?”

Your face scrunches and you draw a breath to question him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Going back up on his knees, he plants one hand against the meat of your inner thigh and shoves it wide. His other darts between your legs before you can react, spindly digits finding your bare cunt and prodding at your folds with rough fingertips. You jolt at the contact but it’s too late. He barely has to touch you to feel the slick oozing out of you and he lets loose a harsh bark of laughter.

“My ass. You’re fucking soaked. You shouldn’t lie, you know.”

“I didn’t!” You gasp, clearly offended by the insinuation. “You’re just a fucking meanie!”

That gives him pause.

Glancing up at your face, Tomura regards you carefully as he tries to figure out his next move. On one hand it was his own fault for saying that word around you so much and it’s not like it was any of his business what you did or didn’t say, but on the other … there was something uncomfortable about hearing that come out of your mouth with such a childish inflection. It lacked any and all bite, not even a hint of impotent aggression to be found. You were just parroting him, that’s all, but for whatever reason he didn’t really appreciate it.

“Don’t say that.” He huffs, turning his attention back to your pussy.

Tomura had wanted to leave it at that, but of course you have to fight him every step of the way.

“Why not?” You ask rather flippantly.

“Because i said so. If you want to get smart, be my guest. I know how to handle bratty little girls like you.”

He’s a bit surprised when that actually shuts you up. Apparently, he was starting to get the hang of this but he still has to sneak a quick peek at you just to make sure. The fact you actually look contemplative, as if you were turning that over in your empty head, almost makes him laugh.

“Do you still want to play?” God, he sorely hoped you did.

You hesitate though, unwilling to give your acquiescence just like that. “When is it my turn?” You ask warily.

“Soon. I’ve got one more chance to make you feel good and then you can try.”

“Mmm … okay. But I’m not gonna’ lose!”

He’s almost certain you would have already lost if you weren’t such a petulant little thing, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, he once again turns his attention to the spot between your legs. Your puffy slit was noticeably wet, the faint sheen of fluid glistening slightly in the overhead light, and he takes a moment to gently part the curls there. Just as he’d thought. Damp to the touch and only getting wetter. He really was going to have to talk to you about lying especially since, in this particular context, you were cheating. This was a far cry from his video games but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

Swallowing his reprimand for the time being, though, Tomura carefully presses two fingers into the doughy softness of your labia and spreads them apart. He can see now that you were practically drenched in slick arousal, thin threads of discharge stretching across your petal soft folds before snapping. He gulps down his nerves. You really did have the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen and the fact it was all his for the taking very nearly had him creaming in his pants right then and there. It was almost obscene how bad he wanted to fuck your tampered brains out but he didn’t want to scare you into noncompliance. He wasn’t going to fight for this if he didn’t have to.

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings his other hand close and prods at where he thinks your clit should be. He’d certainly seen them in enough triple X videos to have some idea of where to look, but when all you do is let out a soft sigh he knows he’s mistaken.

His teeth gnash in high strung irritation as he walks his finger lower and then higher, feeling a bit like a blind fool searching for buried treasure. There were so many fleshy ridges and folds that he couldn’t pinpoint the right spot from memory alone, so he has to take his time feeling around instead. He thinks he’s found it for a split second when you shift underneath him, but then he realizes you were simply getting fussy - no doubt bored with all his incessant pawing - and that only angers him further. It shouldn’t have been this damn hard to find!

Impatient now, Tomura roughly swipes his finger up the length of your slit and surprise washes over him when you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Your head comes up off the rug and you stare at him, wide eyed, but it was much too late. He’d finally gotten the reaction out of you that he’d been hoping for, and he leans into it with nothing short of devilish delight.

Knowing precisely where to look helps a great deal and it immediately occurs to him that the reason he’d struggled so much is because your clit was still hidden behind its protective hood. But he’s got the advantage now, and he ever so carefully pinches at satiny soft skin until he can ease it back and expose the sensitive little bud nestled inside. You whimper slightly as he does it, squirming awkwardly on your back as if you could instinctively sense that you might be in a bit of trouble now. It was kind of cute, if he was being totally honest.

“I don’t think I like this game …”

“You will. Trust me.”

Clearly not believing him, you start to open your mouth to complain but he stops you cold with a quick flick of his finger. Your engorged clit jostles against the indelicate contact and you blurt out such a startled sound that he actually glances up to make sure you’re okay. Unsurprisingly, you look a little more flustered now and the panic edging your expression is almost enough to make him reconsider this.

Almost, but not quite.

“What’s the matter?” He goads, dropping his gaze back down to your pussy again. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I … I don’t …”

“Really? I’m not sure I believe that.”

He does it again, gentler this time. Just a brief tap against the meaty little nub, but it’s enough to make you twitch and try to close your legs from him. Tomura won’t let you back out so easily though and he shifts even closer so he can wedge himself between your thighs to keep them spread. You issue a frustrated, huffy sound that he could only describe as babyish as you try to push up on your elbows, no doubt intending to scuttle away from him. He had to give you credit for being so hard headed even in this infantile state but he was far too invested to quit now.

Letting up his hold on your labia, Tomura directs his fingers lower and wedges three of them into your slit. You freeze, momentarily stunned, and he takes that split second opportunity to feel around for your entrance. It’s not hard to find. Much easier than your clit, at any rate, and he wastes no time wriggling a long digit up inside your body. The penetration is smooth, your guts such a slippery mess that it almost startles him.

You really were a liar.

He suddenly realizes he’s panting. At the same time, he realizes that you don’t appear to be breathing at all. Your expression is about as dumbfounded as it could be, and he dully watches the way you sway in your half upright position. Shellshocked would probably be an appropriate descriptor, and he wets his lips in anticipation.

“Well? Do you like it?”

Your legs flex around his arms and you shake your head. “Nuh … no …”

“If you don’t stop lying to me,” he grumbles. “I’m going to get mad.”

You stiffen, clearly drawing yourself up to challenge that statement just like he’d known you would. It was embarrassing how predictable you could be.

He’s had just about enough of this back and forth though, and he roughly curls his finger upward in search of the spot that would finally shut you up for good. But his efforts only make you more fussy and his patience quickly unravels when you try to twist away from him, wailing in displeasure. He hated that sound and, if you weren’t careful, he’d go right back to hating you too

Grunting, Tomura abandons your clit in favor of latching his hand onto the swell of your thigh and he digs his blunt nails in to keep you still. You actually have the audacity to kick out at him but he puts a stop to that quickly enough by shoving a second finger into your sticky cunt. Just like the first time, it makes you hesitate and he watches your warbling mouth drop open in what he thinks might be pleasure. It’s frustratingly hard to tell with you but, having no other choice, he decides to take it at face value.

Your pussy clicks loudly when he starts pumping into you straight down to the knuckle, the wet squelch almost deafening in his ears. It’s unreasonably hot though, his mind running a mile a minute as he tries to commit every little detail to memory. The way your face screws up with a stuttering gasp, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and try to brace against the pressure of his digits driving into you again and again. The way you moan, even when you try not to, is particularly enticing, especially since it’s just as pretty as he’d hoped it would be. The way your legs shake and you threaten to double over, the way he can see you clutching the carpet in a death grip, the way you just seem to get even wetter for him. There was too much to take in all at once but it was also far too erotic to look away from. He really was going to cream his pants at this rate.

Somehow, your honest reaction appears to make up for all the trouble you’d given him up until now and Tomura can feel the wet spot bleeding through his boxer briefs start to grow. He was positive he’d never been harder in all his life. Animalistic and practically slobbering like a rabid dog, he hunches further over your quaking body and pistons into your cunt so vigorously his arm starts to ache. You were wailing for him to stop, crying out for Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, but he doesn’t even slow down. He can’t.

Your cunt just keeps sucking him in deeper on every plunge, gummy walls pulsating around his no doubt pruning fingers so enthusiastically that he’s sure you’re going to cum. He can practically taste it. Tomura wasn't going to stop until you did and, realizing he doesn’t have to hold onto you any longer, he reaches out to roughly shove you down on your back again.

“Are you going to cream for me, princess? Huh?” He grits out through savagely bared teeth. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“No! Please, Tomu-nii … it hurts!”

Even in the heat of the moment he can’t stop himself from clicking his tongue in irritation. “No it doesn’t, you big baby. You love this. I know you do. I can see it written all over your stupid, pretty face. Go on. Tell me exactly how good you feel. Do it!”

Wailing, you peer up at him through heavy lashes with a look so imploring it very nearly gives him pause. “I - I can’t! I’m … Tomu-nii, I’m gonna’ … I’m gonna’ pee!”

“No you aren’t. That just means your clo - -“

Tomura cuts himself off when you do exactly that. He’s almost too stunned to react and all he can do is watch as the steady stream of urine bursts out of you before dribbling down his wrist to soak into the carpet underneath. It’s only now, when you’re pissing all over yourself as well as him, that he finally has the decency to slow his pumping to a staggered halt. For a fleeting moment he actually considers the notion of keeping at it. There wasn’t much else you could do to ruin this for him, after all, but one look at your expression immediately quashes that idea.

He’d be lucky if all he could manage was to stop you from dissolving into ugly, heaving sobs, let alone worry about getting himself off. Dammit. You really were nothing but a pain in his ass.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He deadpans, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt now that he was thoroughly coated in warm, smelly piss. “To be honest I was kind of tired of that rug anyway. And these clothes, too.”

You hiccup so sadly that what little bit of anger had sparked inside him immediately dies out. He couldn’t even be mad at you for this no matter how much he may have wanted to blame you for everything. You’d tried to warn him.

“T- Tomu-nii … mm’sorry …”

Tomura sighs through his nose, hard enough to make the split end tips of his hair shift. “Don't be. That was my fault. Just - let me find something to clean us up with.”

“Do I have to take another bath?” You ask so meekly he almost misses it.

Pausing halfway through the motion of rising to his feet, he glances down at you again. It occurs to him quickly enough that it wasn’t the accident you were so upset about but, rather, the looming possibility of another aggressively meted out trip to the bathroom. Interesting. He’d almost think he was mistaken, it had only happened once, after all, but the way your lower lip wobbles tells him everything he needs to know. Apparently you were more scared of him than you’d let on.

“No, not right now. I think I can get you clean enough with a wet rag or something. You’ll have to take one later but,” Tomura scoffs, hating that he was actually trying to be nice after you’d peed all over him. “I’ll try not to be so rough next time. You just made me mad last night, that’s all.”

You nod slowly, looking like you don’t quite believe that, but still too naively trusting to press the matter. “Okay.”

Nodding once, Tomura climbs to his feet. The inner seam of his pants from the knee down is absolutely soaked and he makes it only three steps before deciding he didn’t like them all that much to begin with. Dropping his hand to the rough denim, he brushes all five fingers across the thigh and they dissolve into nothing without a second thought to the matter. He can faintly hear you ooohing behind him but there were much more important things to worry about than how easily impressed you were.

His half flagged cock throbs hopefully inside his boxer briefs and he reaches down to delicately adjust himself. God, he’d be aching for the next week thanks to your uncontrollable bladder.

An idea pops into his head with that thought. You weren’t the only thing he’d been saddled with yesterday, and he turns to regard the thick gym bag he’d previously thrown against the far wall in anger. It’s where he’d gotten your pink onesie after you’d similarly soiled the first pair of clothes you’d been wearing. He hadn’t bothered to look through all of its contents just yet, but he felt relatively confident he’d find what he wanted in there.

Circling back around, Tomura squats in front of the bag and yanks it open. He can feel your eyes watching him from your spot on the floor but he pays it no mind. Digging inside, he pulls out a few more articles of clothing, far too cutesy for his tastes, and then a book on child care that he knows for certain was put there in jest. Over his shoulder it gets chucked, and he digs deeper. Down at the very bottom he finds exactly what he’d been looking for.

But in addition to the baby wipes there are two other items that catch his attention. He outright balks at the very notion - however, realistically speaking, it could very well be the answer to his problems. At least the most pressing one, anyway.

The idea that All for One knew he’d likely run into this issue but still decided to dump you on him anyway bothers Tomura a great deal and he frowns even as he looks over the packaging. Diapers and pull ups. What was the difference? He’s not so sure there is one, and he feels almost certain that they serve the same purpose. But further inspection proves him wrong. One was for a total lack of control and the other was for the potty training stage, so not as thick or absorbent. That’s what the packing said but, at any rate, they definitely weren't the plain adult brands he was looking at here.

These were bright and colorful, and he can’t help but cringe at the thought of putting you in either of them. But he was still left with a very real concern that he simply couldn’t overlook. The fact he even had to make this decision at all was ridiculous but he couldn’t very well have you pissing on every available surface in his room. And given your track record of absolutely drenching whatever you happened to be sitting on at the time …

Hesitantly, Tomura takes out the diapers and shuffles towards his unkempt bed. The print on the back wasn't particularly clear about what to do with them. He’d probably have to look up a tutorial later, when he wasn’t feeling quite so downtrodden and his balls weren’t aching, though that would certainly put him on a few watch lists. Not that it really mattered.

He sighs and tosses the package on top of his sheets before tearing into the baby wipes. Taking his time, he methodically scrubs his wrist and his legs clean while he contemplates his next move. It wasn’t going to be pretty. It certainly wasn’t going to be sexy. It was still probably the lesser of two evils, though. Far be it that he wanted to go this route but did he really even have any other choice at this point?

“Tomu-nii …”

Your soft whining draws him back to reality and, abruptly realizing you’ve been sitting in your own piss this entire time, he turns to look back at you. For a split second, he seriously considers just killing you right then and there. It would save him a lot of trouble and you wouldn’t even realize what was coming. You were so stupid you’d probably think he was going in for a hug or something asinine like that. He’d be doing you a favor, really, because as far as he was concerned, death was certainly preferable to wearing diapers but … the urge fizzles out almost as quickly as it had appeared. He wasn’t going to let you slip out of his hold until after he’d gotten to bury himself in that tight, pretty little pussy of yours.

Decision made, Tomura makes his way over to the carpet again. You look cold, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, and he bends down to grab the meat of your upper arms so he can drag you up to your feet. “Come on. I think I’ve got a solution.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Salution?”

“Close enough.”

Steering you over to the bed, he makes you bend over the mattress so he can take a baby wipe to the backs of your thighs and ass. Luckily, depending on how you looked at it, the urine had run down rather than going every which direction so it was pretty easy to clean up. The way you tremble and shift your weight back and forth makes it a bit more difficult than it needed to be but he manages, somehow.

Tomura straightens after a long moment, finally deeming the back of you good to go. He’s not so sure he can get through this next part when you were fidgeting so much, though, and he briefly considers the clothes in the gym bag. The thought of putting you in another girly, saccharine sweet garment repulses him almost as much as the thought of putting you in a diaper. But he was going to have to pick and choose his battles here and, reaching back, he delicately tugs off his t-shirt.

“Turn around.”

You slowly comply, teeth chattering the whole time.

“Arms up.”

At this, you hesitate. But at his expectantly bland look, you do as you're told and raise your arms up in the air. The lift of your heavy tits almost successfully distracts him and it is with a great deal of self control on his part that he pulls his shirt down over your head, yanking it a little too forcefully into place.

“There.” He practically hisses, watching you clumsily work your arms through the sleeves. “Is that better?”

You think about that for a moment, eyes scanning across the front of his shirt, and he briefly wonders if you’re going to say something derisive about the worn video game logo stretched across your chest. But then you smile, nodding your head a little too enthusiastically.

“Mm! It smells like Tomu-nii!”

He really couldn’t stand you.

“Good. In return, I’ll need you to cooperate with me here. I’ve never done this before, you know?”

You blink at him quizzically. “Done what?”

Tomura rolls his eyes, feeling grumpier by the second. He couldn’t wait to get this over with and have you situated so he could run off to the bathroom for what probably wouldn’t even amount to five minutes of desperate jerking. “Never mind. Just do what I tell you, okay?”

You nod your head again, but he has some very real doubts about that. Even when you were pretending to go along with whatever it was he wanted you still found some way to fuck everything up for him. If this scheme somehow backfired because your brain was so scrambled you couldn’t even follow simple directions, he was not going to be happy.

Mentally bracing himself for the worst possible outcome, he reaches for the diapers. He rips the bag open almost violently and pulls one out, but it feels even more wrong in his hands than he’d thought it would. A strange sense of scandalized affront warms his chest, making him reconsider this choice for the upteenth time. If Tomura was being completely honest, he felt embarrassed for you but a quick glance in your direction proves that you don’t share quite the same sentiment. You really couldn’t have cared less, huh?

Right. Baby brain.

He grumbles under his breath as he non too gently snaps the diaper open with a loud crinkle of plastic and lays it out close to the edge of his bed. Motioning you closer, Tomura awkwardly helps you get seated on the damn thing and then instructs you to lay down. You genuinely don’t seem to have a problem with this as you recline back, just placidly peering up at him with your little fists balled in the hem of his shirt, but now that he’s gotten this far he’s not sure how to proceed.

At a loss, he takes another baby wipe out of the package and inserts himself between your bent legs. “I’m going to clean you some more, okay?” He's not sure why he’s telling you that, especially when all you do is nod your dopey head in understanding. Just buying time. That’s all he was doing.

But it gives him a chance to think and for that he’s grateful. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to figure out what All for One’s intention with all this had been. ‘A splendid birthday present for my favorite pupil’, he’d said, as if there were any others. But what was the reason? Surely you weren’t actually supposed to be a sex slave for him. Not in this sorry state. His battered onahole did a much better job on that front and it wasn’t prone to tantrums or crying, and it certainly didn’t pee on his stuff. It also didn’t require more than a perfunctory cleaning every few months. He couldn’t very well shove you into his nightstand and forget about it until the next time he was in the mood to rut into something.

All that was true, yes, but … his onahole also wasn’t warm to the touch, and it didn’t have soft, curly hair framing its abused slit (he really should buy a new one) nor did it self lubricate. It didn’t squeeze him quite the same way your pussy had squeezed his fingers, and it didn’t even really feel like an actual vagina now that he had something to compare it to. You were soft and squishy, pliable in the way only flesh and blood could be, and although he had no way of knowing if this had been All for One’s plan or not, he was certainly self aware enough to recognize that he’d screwed up somewhere along the line.

Tomura absolutely should have turned you to dust while he still had the chance.

Licking his lips, he drags the wipe through the seam of your cunt much more slowly than he needed to. You don’t even stir on the bed, and he thinks you must be starting to doze after … all of that. He’s not quite ready to leave well enough alone yet though, and he gently presses down on the spot where he now knows your clit is hiding. Still using the moist towelette as a pretense to keep touching you like this, he circles the sensitive little bud with it and genuine surprise washes over him when you let out a soft, pleasant sigh.

He glances up at your face but you aren’t even looking at him, lashes fanned out against the apples of your cheeks. It’s hard to tell if you were actually asleep or just pretending so you could lull him into a false sense of security, yet he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. You were his so he could do whatever he wanted to you, right? Besides. You kind of owed him after pissing all over his hand like that.

Discarding the baby wipe, Tomura bends closer and carefully spreads your labia again. He could see your little hole weakly palpitating, beckoning him to pick back up where he’d left off, but he drags his gaze a bit higher instead. You were so velvety soft and smooth it bordered on insane, so much more inviting than he ever would have thought possible.

He briefly hesitates before throwing caution aside and sealing his lips around your clit, gently mouthing at it. Your plushy thighs twitch around his head as you shift on top of the mattress, letting out another breathy sound that rushes straight to his cock. It almost hurts, the way it so eagerly springs back to life after being denied something as simple as release, but he can’t find it in himself to complain. You were giving him another chance, knowingly or not, and he wasn’t the type to squander such an opportunity.

Tomura takes his time lapping at you over the next few minutes until you’re almost as wet as when he’d started. You taste heavenly even with the artificial flavor of the wipes clinging to your folds and he entertains the notion of eating you out until you cum all over his face. There’s something he wants even more than that, though, and he sighs in relief when he finally straightens up so he can fish his cock out. It was almost painfully sensitive to the touch, and he could feel it throbbing potently in his hand. He knew this probably wasn’t going to last long but he didn’t care.

Guiding himself to your waiting entrance, he slowly pushes in one fraction at a time, damn near blowing his load the second his glans disappears into your body. He holds back though, struggling to maintain his composure as he seethes through gritted teeth. You finally seemed to realize that something was going on and your pretty eyes flutter open, immediately searching out his face.

“Tomu-nii …?”

“Be quiet. I’ve got you.”

You accept that in lieu of an explanation surprisingly fast, at least by his standards, and without another word you sleepily glance down at the juncture where your bodies were connected. A slow inhale makes your chest rise, mouth falling open as if to groan. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” the sound rattles out of Tomura’s chest as he slides in right down to the base, toes flexing against the floor. “I’m not even gonna’ get to enjoy this.”

Brows knitting together, you let out the softest mewling sound he’s ever heard and it makes him dig his carefully poised fingers deeper into the meat of your hips. He can’t even bring himself to move, so overwhelmed by how soft and wet your guts are. It felt like you were massaging his length, involuntarily or not, as your pussy suckles at the tip like he’s almost positive your mouth would.

Softly wheezing, Tomura drops his chin to look at where the two of you were stuck together. His pelvis was so flush against yours that your pudgy cunt was molded to the front of him, squishing under the pressure, and his silvery pubes were tangled with your darker ones. He hadn’t expected such a sight to be so damn erotic and it has him twitching, fighting back the orgasm he’d gone through hell and back for.

He’s almost scared to do it but, slowly, he eases back. The way his cock gradually reappears, glistening obscenely now, very nearly sends him over the edge. He isn’t sure how he hasn’t ruptured yet, his ballsac drawn so tight and throbbing that it leaves him feeling lightheaded, but through sheer force of will alone he manages to sink back into the inviting heat of your body without spraying your insides white. His self control was tentative as best, hanging on by a mere thread, but you felt far too good to waste on a quick nut.

“Goddamn … you’re so tight, baby. So fucking tight.”

You fidget underneath him, fussily tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Mm’ not a baby …”

Your pouty little response is enough to make him bark out a clipped laugh, more breathless than amused. You could insist you weren’t a baby all you wanted but, even putting aside the cruel, infantile reprogramming of your brain, it was hard to think otherwise when you were spread out on top of a diaper. It’s stark white, cottony lining was an almost unsettling backdrop to the perfect view he had of his cock stuttering in and out of your slick cunt. Even when he was barely moving, it crinkled softly underneath you with each rocking motion of his hips and he couldn’t quite forget it was there no matter how hard he tried.

Tomura wasn’t sure what he would ultimately do with you and he knew even less why he was even entertaining this wildly absurd situation to begin with, but there was no denying that you did have some use. The clinging grip of your pussy, for starters, and if he could get that bratty mouth of yours under control he might even some day find your company bearable. He still didn’t particularly like you but it wasn’t so farfetched to think that he might be able to tolerate you, with enough effort.

Hissing through his teeth, he drags one of his hands down to spread your puffy lips apart and get a good look at the way your petal soft folds clutch to his cock. It was a mesmerizing visual in the worst possible way, especially when accompanied by the soft, wet clicking he pulls from your body. He could have watched this for hours on end but, realistically, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he gives his wrist a brief twist to bring the middle finger down on your clit.

You twitch at the contact but Tomura takes a much more gentle approach this time, sedately drawing circles around the swollen bud. He doesn’t get much in the way of a reaction for his trouble so he just keeps at it, rubbing you in tandem with his staggered thrusts. The thought of making you cum around his cock is almost disturbingly enticing, but he isn’t so sure he can accomplish that. Not when so much of his focus was devoted to simply biting back his orgasm - but then, to his throbbing surprise, you draw a faltering breath.

“Tomu-nii … feels good …”

It’s as if the air had been punched right out of him. He isn't so sure he even believes his own ears, the blood suddenly pounding inside of them making it hard to hear much of anything. He groans though, thick and heavy as he slides his other hand up across your stomach to push at the bottom of his shirt. Your grip on the soft cotton momentarily tightens, still fighting him at every turn, but you give in almost immediately and allow him to shove it over the swell of your tits.

They’re moving, jiggling ever so slightly with the push and pull of his narrow hips as they quietly slap against the backs of your thighs. Tomura heaves, practically doubling over you with another throaty moan that rises in pitch at the tail end. His palm descends on one of your breasts, squeezing hard enough that the pliable flesh bulges and spills out between four of his fingers. You just stare up at him the entire time, face pinched and flushed while your glistening eyes dreamily watch him with a far off sort of quality that he’s sure must be - has to be pleasure.

He’d never seen anything sexier in his whole life, and that thought alone is far more terrifying than he could have ever guessed it would be. There was something wrong with you, yes, by All for One’s design. But there was something even more inherently wrong with him for getting off on this so much and without the added bonus of quirk tampering to excuse his behavior. You were so sweet and unfairly innocent despite your seductive figure, the sight of you naked save his bunched up t-shirt driving him absolutely wild. It was like you belonged here, with him, in his bed. It wasn’t that he no longer wanted to kill you but that he couldn’t.

What little bit of self control he’d still been clinging to up until now shatters, and Tomura snaps his hips into your upturned ass: once, twice, three times. The sticky squelching between your bodies increases in volume, echoing inside his skull like a ricocheting bullet as he watches your face screw up at the sudden force. It doesn’t even matter though. He’s long since reached his limit and, with a wounded grunt, he slams into you one final time, lurching over your prone body.

The sound that comes out of his mouth as he shudders and violently paints your pink guts is, frankly, embarrassing. But he’s riding a high too great to care, clinging to you hard enough to make his joints ache and you whimper in discomfort. He can’t stop though. He’s cumming so hard, pulse after pulse, that it feels like his soul actually slips out of his body for a worryingly long beat before returning in fragmented pieces. The same, but also somehow different. Like he’d experienced rebirth in the warm, comforting clutch of your drenched cunt.

He wheezes as if he’d been stabbed in the chest when he finally eases his softening cock out of you some time later.

Tomura was completely spent, both physically and mentally. His wobbly legs could hardly support his weight anymore but, with a strength of mind he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he directs a shaky finger to your clit again. You squirm in response, huffing after that rough treatment, but he soothes you with hushed words and a gentle touch to the delicate little pearl he barely even needs to brush against to have you shaking for him.

“Relax. You feel good, don’t you? Let me hear those pretty sounds again, baby.”

Obstinately, you purse your lips together to deny him even that one simple request. Tomura heaves a tired sigh, wishing you weren’t such a brat, but he doesn’t let up. The gentle circles he rubs into your clit with the pad of his finger slowly brings you around though, grudgingly, and he can’t quite deny the satisfaction that sparks in his throat when your mouth warbles open to let loose the sweetest, tiny moan he’s ever heard.

“Nngh … Tomu-nii …!”

“Don't fight it. I want you to feel good too, yknow.” He pauses, tongue glancing over his dry lips. “Will you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, eyes screwing shut, but the way your body continues to tense up seems to suggest otherwise. He could tell you were practically thrumming with it, burning from the inside out even as his milky white discharge slowly oozes down your slit to pool in the seat of the diaper. It was unexpectedly exciting to watch, disproportionately naughty given how utterly unappealing the crinkly plastic was at first glance, and he picks up the pace of his rubbing.

“I think you’re lying again. You liked how it felt when I was inside you, right? This will be even better, I promise. You’ll love it. I know you will.”

Weakly writhing on top of his bed, you crack your eyes open to peer up at him again. “T - Tomu-nii … I can’t … ahh. Ahh. Ahh! I … I’m … ahh! Tomu-niiiii!”

You suddenly jerk, tossing your head back against the sheets, and he watches in rapt fascination as you quake so hard it nearly catches him off guard. It wasn’t the seductive, rolling tremors he was used to seeing in porn videos but, rather, a full bodied spasm that had you twisting as if to get away. Your thighs try to clamp shut around his hand but he elbows them apart, refusing to let up until he’d milked your orgasm as thoroughly as you’d milked his.

And you looked so pretty, too. Caught up in mind numbing pleasure so intense he couldn’t even begin to fathom what you were feeling. Even his own earth shattering release seemed to pale in comparison to this, and it takes you much longer to start coming down from it than it did him.

Your hair is a mess by the time you’re done, matted in some places and sticking to your damp forehead in others. For a fleeting moment, Tomura can almost see the adult woman you should have been when your face goes slack in ecstasy and your flushed lips were parted to suck in as much oxygen as you could get. He imagines you were probably no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, not with that body and those looks, so the thought that he could make you feel this good was a bit like a pat on the back for him. It was probably just beginners luck, but that didn’t stop him from feeling any less proud of himself.

Slowly, he takes his hands off you and steps back. The spot between your legs was absolutely covered in fluid, your sticky, copious slick mixing with his spunk to make a truly viscous concoction that clung to your damp curls. He thinks that he should probably clean you up again and reaches for the baby wipes, but stops himself short.

The idea that crosses his mind is very likely foul, perhaps even more offensive than anything else he’d done til now, but … a quick glance at your sloppy pussy proves too great a temptation. There was something inherently erotic about making you walk around with his semen dripping out of you, even if it was only going to be absorbed by the diaper, and he shuffles close again with his heart in his throat.

Tomura hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s doing and it takes him a long moment to figure out the tape tabs on the sides. He gets frustrated halfway through the process, struggling to make sure the crinkly plastic was secure enough around your waist, but by some miracle you stay relatively still through all of his fumbling. He isn’t quite sure how he got so lucky but he doesn’t stop to question it, hawkishly focusing all of his attention on the task at hand.

At length, he straightens to admire his work. It’s not perfect by any means but he’s pretty sure the damned thing wasn’t going to fall off as soon as you stood up so there was that. The diaper itself was just as obnoxiously girly as everything else in the gym bag; a soft, lilac purple with a flowery, cartoon bunny design on them. He didn’t mind the rabbits so much, and it was certainly preferable to the onesie, but he still thought you’d look nice in something a bit cooler.

The realization that he was thinking about this in such quaint, fuzzy terms chills Tomura to the bone, and his gaze flicks to your face so he can ask what you think of them. Even if only to distract himself from his own uncomfortably perverse change of heart.

But you were already asleep. He probably should have expected as much, and he could tell you were actually snoozing this time by the shallow, even rise and fall of your chest. A strange sense of embarrassment washes over him and he reaches out to delicately take the hem of his shirt between thumb and finger so he can tug it back down into place. You only snuggle further into the mattress though, getting comfortable, and further cementing the notion that he had, indeed, fucked up.

He’d never be able to get rid of you now.

Grumbling under his breath, Tomura leans over you with one hand braced on the mattress. The other slips between your legs, unable to squeeze shut now with the bulk of the diaper between them, and ever so carefully cups his palm over your crotch. It was cool to the touch, but if he pushed down hard enough he could feel the warmth of your body bleeding through. You let out a quiet huff in response, petulant towards him even in your sleep, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing. It was absurd. It was strange. It was strikingly, unequivocally weird, but he was almost glad he hadn’t disintegrated you or strangled you to death.

This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d wished for a woman he could do with as he pleased and not have to worry about her running away, but … it was close enough, he supposed.

[dreamsclock]

Thinkin about the total control AU and what it could mean for other characters on the smp...

Like George, for example. George is Dream's best friend and probably the closest person to him on the server. What if George noticed something was off with Dream around the time the Dreamon manages to take full control of Dream, and that's why he stops getting involved in situations? He could either be forced into silence by the Dreamon threatening him or Dream so he rarely goes out because he can't stand seeing the Dreamon controling his friend like that. He could maybe just be like "Something is weird about Dream but no one seems to notice so I'll just lay back until he tells me what's up". Heck, maybe even he recognizes that the Dreamon is there, tries to help Dream get control of his mind again, only for it to curse him into some sort of sleep or amnesia or general disconnection to the rest of the server.

The angst possiblities are endless and could apply to really any of the sleepy boys, George was just my first instinct and i think that's makes this au so interesting to think about tbh

ty for this, anon !! i’ve been thinking about mr. notfound in this au!! let’s just say, he’s getting pretty good at chess.... :)

tw: possession, some creepy language from the demon just generally regarding possession/dream, dark themes !

George stares at his opponent, stoic faced. “I’m not about to let you get away with another win.”

“Then beat me,” the dreamon purrs, “save your beau. I don’t think you can.”

Choking back a defensive he’s not my beau, George refocuses on the board. It’s a brutal game; pieces are scattered left and right, and the sun is sinking. He can’t stall forever. The longer he stalls, the more dangerous it is for him, too. So, with a grimace, he makes his move, taking one of the dreamon’s pawns.

“Whoops!” The dreamon grins, delighted, and swipes George’s rook from the board. “Rookie mistake, George, pun intended. You have to play more carefully if you want a chance of playing the hero.”

George doesn’t respond. There’s nothing to say. Because the dreamon underestimates him, as usual - he’d known he would lose a rook, because some sacrifices are necessary in chess. Sacrifices are necessary in real life, too; that’s what he tells himself with every loss that results in him being driven into a longer and deeper sleep, that’s what he tells himself with every risky gamble he makes to try and save Dream.

Some people are worth sacrificing lives for. Dream might be one of them.

Or maybe he’s being stupid. George rubs his eyes, already feeling them burn under the strain of being awake longer than he’s used to. The dreamon notices, giggles. 

“Tired?”

“Yeah,” George admits freely, causing it to smirk, “which means I’m going to have to beat you quickly. I would’ve liked to savour this, it’s a pity.”

The dreamon rolls its - Dream’s - eyes, fond, amused. “You’re such an idiot, George,” it says in the exact same way Dream used to. George’s heart plummets. “you’re not going to beat me. I’ve already won.”

It does feel like it at times. How many enchanted sleeps has George woken up from now? Ten? Eleven? More importantly, how many does he have left in him to fight off? It’s getting harder and harder to pull himself awake after every sleep, harder and harder not to succumb to the desire to sleep, to dream, to see his Dream again, even if it is only in his subconscious. The dreamon is winning, yes, in real life. 

George isn’t going to let it win any longer. Especially not at his damn game. 

He sits up sharper, makes his next move with narrowed eyes and fire in his chest. 

“Oh...” The dreamon says, interested, “so we’re doing this.”

“We are.” George ignores the bitterness that catches on the back of his tongue like poison when he looks at Dream’s body. “I want him back.”

The dreamon grins. “There you are. I almost thought you were giving up.”

On him? George thinks. On Dream? Never. He doesn’t say this, however. He bites his tongue, straightens his shoulders, and shoots an empty, mocking smile at the face of his best friend.

“Make your move,” he says, challenges, and the dreamon frowns.

[floating-mid-air]

The Princess of All Saiyans

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Masterlist

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So first things first. I should probably mention that I killed Chi-Chi off before the start of the story. I completely forgot to include it in the notes last chapter. So sorry if there was any confusion there.

Ever since the last chapter, I've been kinda hooked on flashbacks. So there will be another one, this one featuring the man, the myth, the legend, the most ruthless of all the Saiyans King Vegeta. Also, my dumbass finally decided to create a Masterlist. I realized it's much easier than linking chapters individually. 

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Chapter 7

-

You've been on Planet Namek for approximately two hours, and the day has already been tremendously eventful. You and Vegeta have already had a run-in with Cui, who arrived shortly after you. That purple cretin went out the same way he lived as a spineless coward. Something was extremely satisfying about watching Vegeta drive that failure into the ground. Cui's demise was entirely his own fault. It's common knowledge that Saiyans grow stronger after a near-death experience. Underestimating your brother's growth was an act of pure stupidity.

After that minor inconvenience, the two of you toon into Dodoria's transmission, it sounds like those goons are slaughtering a village of Namekians, so they must store their Dragon Balls in separate settlements. Either that or they're executing them for leisure. Both are feasible possibilities. From what you've been able to gather, Frieza has four Dragon Balls in his possession, and he's currently after his fifth. Frieza even reveals some essential information on how these Namkeian villages operate. Before the signal cuts off entirely. 

Vegeta attempts to find another channel, but they all come up as static. "Those Namekians must be craftier than they look. Something tells me Frieza's scouters are out of commission."

"Perhaps." He turns to you. "Or they figured out we were eavesdropping. Either way, keep your guard up."

The two of you fly around aimlessly. Though you still need to be careful. Frieza is somewhere on this god-forsaken planet, and a run-in with him and his lackeys at the moment would be unfavorable. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot something that catches your attention. " I spy with my little eye an unsightly pink blob."

You direct Vegeta's attention to Dodoria, who has his classic disoriented look on his face. "Good eye." He smirks at you before ambushing Dodoria, knocking him into the water. You appear beside your brother on the shoreline, observing the water intently. 

Two pink hands grasp onto the terrain as he pulls his head up, gasping for air. You both laugh maniacally at the pink creature's stupidity. You swear, after every encounter you have with Dodoria, he somehow gets dumber. "Oh, it's you two." He sounds far from pleased as he pulls himself out of the lake. "What the hell do you want?"

"Mind your manners, Dodoria." You scold him. "No need to be crude."

He scowls at you. "Arrogant Saiyans." He mutters under his breath. "That was a dirty trick Vegeta. Although I wouldn't expect anything less from you monkeys." Dodoria straightens his posture in an attempt to appear more intimidating. Spoiler alert, it doesn't work. "You know I can't just let you get away with blindsiding me." 

Vegeta chuckles, rolling his eyes at the monster. "Oh, really now? Just what do you plan on doing? You're all alone. There's no Zarbon or Frieza for you to cower behind. How unfortunate for you."

"I doubt we'll even have to lift a finger." You shrug. "This should be a piece of cake."

Dodoria chuckles, shifting his gaze between you and Vegeta. "You two really think you can take me? You're both as egotistical as that father of yours, and you know how that ended for him. You Saiyan freaks will never be half the warrior that I am." You clench your fists, your nails digging into your palm. How dare he even mention your father. "Listen, I know neither of you desires to fight me. And I don't particularly want to fight you either. So how about you just give me that scouter, and we can forget this ever happened. That's more than a fair deal. I think I'm actually being quite generous." His tone may be confident, but his body language gives him away. Who knew the pink menace was actually afraid of something. 

"So your presumption was right." Vegeta turns to you. "Those Namekians must have destroyed their scouters. This puts us in an intriguing situation, doesn't it Y/N?" Vegeta removes his scouter, tossing it on the ground. "What are you waiting for, Dodoria? Take it."

He eyes you both skeptically, but he still takes the bait. Critical thinking has never been Dodoria's strong suit. "About time you brats showed me the respect I deserve." As he steps closer, Vegeta stomps on the scouter. The wretched thing, smashing into thousands of worthless pieces.

The pink monstrosity sneers. "No worries. I'll just take the girl's scouter." He speeds toward you, extending a hand in an attempt to rip the device off your face. Before he can even touch you, you grasp his arm, bending it behind his back.

"Why do they always think it's appropriate to get handsy with me?" A breathy sigh escapes your lips. "They'll never learn." You remove your scouter, holding it in the palm of your unoccupied hand. "Since you want it so bad." You snap your scouter in half, discarding the parts to the ground. "You ever think about laying your filthy hands on me again, you'll lose them." You toss the fool several feet away. The farther away he is, the better. 

"Why would you--- it doesn't even matter." He stands back up, dusting himself off. "Now, you won't be able to find the Dragon Balls either."

You shake your head at him, a pleased look crossing your features. "Not exactly. You see, Earth was quite the adventure. We picked up a few new tricks. One that leaves those hunks of metal useless."

Dedoria furrows his brows at you, his entire face contorting. "You're lying."

"I'm afraid she isn't. This energy-sensing technique is quite simple. I doubt any of the members of the elite Frieza Force would be interested, though. It doesn't require much strength, and everyone knows you don't care for anything that doesn't involve flexing your muscles." Dodoria is more fat than muscle. It's an irrelevant technicality, one that would only piss off the blob more. 

"I get it now." He seems to come to some sort of a realization. Only you have no idea what the hell he's referring to. "Those two runts I was chasing were earthlings." You stare at him in disbelief. Is it possible for them to be here? Raditz, he's the only possible explanation. But would he really be dumb enough to lead those weaklings to their deaths?

"W-What did you say?" Vegeta's mouth hangs agape.

"So I'm right. The looks on your faces tell me all I need to know. You're working together."

You combust into a fit of laughter, wiping tears from your eyes. This has to be the funniest thing you've heard all week. "Even if those pests were here. Never in a million years would we align ourselves with those soft-hearted fools."

"You must be mistaken. Even if those earthlings were here, we'd be able to sense them." Now that you think about it. Have you been able to sense them? You haven't been looking, but you have felt some strange energy. You just assumed it was some half-wit from the Frieza Force, but now you're not so sure.

 "It doesn't really matter anyway." He rolls his eyes. "You two are no longer any use to me. So either get lost, or I'll have to finish you off myself."

"Why, how generous of you." The sarcasm practically drips from your voice. "I think he's afraid Vegeta."

"Well, can you blame him? His scouter probably told him everything he needed to know. He must have seen my battle with Cui." For every step Vegeta takes forward, Dodoria takes another backward. "He must have seen how much stronger I've become."

"That isn't possible." He scoffs. "Those numbers were inaccurate, and I'll prove it!" He shoots an uncontrollable blast of fire at you both, which you simply dodge by stepping out of the line of fire.

"Was that really the best you could do?" You mock. It was sloppy even for an attack from Dodoria.

He turns around, only to be met with the two of you behind him, floating in the air. Vegeta swiftly moves behind him, grabbing both of his arms, twisting them behind his back. You swear you even heard them snap. "Look how weak you are." Vegeta sneers. "I'm stronger than I've ever been. While you've been sitting on your ass all-day, becoming soft and lazy. I should just end your pitiful life here."

"Wait, Vegeta!" He cries. "I have something to tell you! Something you'll really want to know! It's about your homeworld. I know the truth about Planet Vegeta!" Does that pink blob actually believe he has a form of leverage? What a fool.

"What could you possibly know about Planet Vegeta? You better start talking!" You furrow your brows at your brother. He's behaving strangely. And why is he humoring Dodoria in the first place? Vegeta has to already know about what they did to your homeworld.

"I will, but first, you have to let me go." Vegeta releases Dodoria from his death grip, pushing him away.

"Now, spit it out!" You observe the pair from a safe distance. Vegeta's response is bizarre, and his body language seems to have no ulterior motives. Is it possible that Vegeta doesn't know? You grab your forehead, running a hand through your hair. If that's the case, Vegeta is going to fucking kill you.

"As you know, Planet Vegeta was destroyed, but it wasn't by a meteor. Lord Frieza had started to notice numerous Saiyan babies being born with extraordinary combat skills. You two were the most notable in power. He realized that you Saiyans could really be a problem. You had the potential of becoming a real bother to Lord Frieza's regime. So he decided to wipe out the only race that could ever impose him before they could even become an issue. He destroyed Planet Vegeta with every last Saiyan on it. Well, except for you two. Did you really think it was a coincidence that you were off-planet? So there it is, you two are finally in on our little joke."

You've always known what happened to your planet. But now you've learned the answer to an even more substantial question, why it occurred. Frieza was afraid. He decided to take the coward's way out. How pathetic. 

You laugh, tilting your head backward. "That was your big ploy? I've known about that for years!" Before he can even react, you teleport behind him, impaling your hand through his chest, watching the purple goop ooze out of him. "How stupid did you think we were?" You twist your hand, tossing his lifeless body to the ground before obliterating anything left of him.

Vegeta stares at you in shock. "You knew?"

You raise a brow at him. "You didn't?" You always assumed that it was one of those things that you both knew but never spoke off. Turns out you were mistaken.

The two of you stand in silence. You have no idea what the protocol is for this. You don't know what you're supposed to say. Vegeta looks away, sighing. "It's irrelevant now. It was probably for the best that I was left in ignorance. Who knows what I would've done as a child. I'm just annoyed that you were able to figure it out before me."

You smile at him. Besting Vegeta is not something that comes easily. So you'll take what you can get. "You know, I don't think he was wrong about the earthlings."

"You think they're here?"

You nod. "You gotta remember. Raditz is with them now."

"Good point. When I get my hands on that pathetic excuse for a Saiyan, he'll regret ever betraying us. Let's go. We can't be out in the open for too long."

He hovers in the air, beginning to take off. "Vegeta." He turns back, meeting your gaze. "You know I would've told you, right?"

"I know---" He cuts himself off, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. "Do you sense that?" You nod, taking off in the direction of the two large power sources. Dodoria had mentioned that they were runts. So one of them has to be the half-breed and possibly the bald fellow. Your eyes scan over the terrain. They have to be around here somewhere. "They must be suppressing their power levels. Only if I still had my damn scouter. I'm not used to this technique just yet."

Bingo. You found them hiding between a few boulders. And your assumptions were right. There's only a slight difference. They seem to be accompanied by a Namkian child. A sadistic grin spreads across your face as their gazes land on you. Just the way you remember them, cowering in fear due to your presence. "You know. It was probably just three insignificant insects." You're not wrong. That's all they are to you. Pesky flies that invade your personal space and make your life slightly more irritating.

"You're right. We don't have time for this anyway. Let's get a move on." You both take off, leaving the earthling issue for another time.

It took you awhile, but you finally located a Namkeian village. Well, actually, you passed several, but this is the only one with a living population. "Looks like we found ourselves a Dragon Ball." Vegeta's lips twist into a sly grin, heading straight into the village. You follow his lead, now standing directly beside him. You've finally gained the attention of the inhabitants, who are now murmuring to each other. Who knew Namekians were such gossips. Their chatter dies down the second Vegeta clears his throat. "I wish to speak to your elder. I believe there is a Dragon Ball here, that we'll be graciously taking off your hands."

"I'm the village elder." An older Namkain steps up. These creatures do not age kindly. "I would ask you what your intentions are, but I can already feel that you are impure. I sense an unspeakable evil in both of you. Neither of you is worthy." What a self-righteous species. They're entirely different from that Namekian you encountered on Earth.

Vegeta shakes his head, chuckling to himself. Only if the Namekians cooperated, Vegeta has never taken the word no very well. "Then you die. Y/N, you do the honors." This could've ended smoothly, with a lot less bloodshed. Too bad for them.

"You got it, Vegeta." You hold up a finger gun, pointing it straight at the elder. "Bang!" A beam of blue light heads straight for the geezer before another Namkian jumps in front of him, absorbing the blast entirely. The body drops to the ground, and all hell breaks loose. 

You begin the slaughter, ending the lives of several Namkeians. Until you freeze, as much as you've been itching for a fight, you're reminded of something far more crucial that you have to fulfill. Damn your morals. They're ruining all your fun. You take one last glance at your brother. These Namekians should keep him occupied for some time. He might not even notice that you ever left. As soon as he turns away from you, you take off, successfully staying off of Vegeta's radar. 

You use your newly acquired energy-sensing technique to track down that Namekian child. Since those earthlings are suppressing their energy, they'll be much more difficult to find. This is assuming he's still with them. Those earthlings aren't like you. Neither of them would be able to stomach, leaving him for dead.

You pinpoint the energy source to a cave. What a strange place for them to reside in. You head into the cavern, only to find some form of futuristic architecture. How the hell did this get here? And what is Capsule Corp? You move toward the door, banging on it. "Knock, knock. Oh, little piglets, let me in! Before I knock the door down. Or worse." You can overhear faint whispering on the other side, mixed with a woman obnoxiously shrieking. "I can hear you panicking. Relax, I have no business with the half-breed, the Namekian child, or any earthlings in there. Now open the damn door."

The door slowly opens, revealing the bald man, whose name you believe to be Krillin. "What do you want, Y/N?"

"I need to speak to Raditz. It's urgent."

"Well, you can't---" Krillin gets pushed to the ground by none other than the infamous Hair Boy himself. This allows you to step inside the building. It must be some sort of luxury living quarters. 

The two of you stand arm's length from each other, matching cold expressions on your faces. "You here to kill me?"

"No." The corners of your lips tug upwards. "Well, at least not yet."

"So why are you here?" His face twists in confusion. "You aren't one to just drop in and say hi."

You take a deep breath, glancing around the room. This would be difficult to say one-on-one, but being surrounded by people makes it ten times worse. "There's something--- I need to tell you."

An arrogant smirk appears on his lips. "What? Did you finally fall for my good looks and charm? Are you finally declaring that you've fallen hopelessly in love with me?"

Your face scrunches up in disgust. "Don't make me ill." That would never happen, even if he was the last male Saiayn in existence, which he pretty much is. "I'm here to tell you the truth about what occurred on Planet Vegeta."

"What are you talking about?" Raditz eyebrows knit together. "A meteor wiped out our people."

You sigh, glancing at the ceiling. "Come on, Raditz. You're a lot of things, but you aren't stupid. There was no meteor. Even if there was one, our people could fly."

"What are you trying to say?" he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to shield himself from the inevitable blow.

"Our people were exterminated by that imperialistic dictator." Your voice booms. You're not even attempting to conceal your anger.

Raditz clenches his fists, his hands violently shaking. All he can think about is his mother, how she deserved better. The majority of your people deserved what they got, but not Gine. She was different. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Raditz always knew there was no meteor. The story was too perfect, and it was easier to believe that it was a tragedy. "Why?" That was all he could manage to choke out. Did Raditz really want to know? Would he be able to handle the truth? 

The others in the room remain silent, observing you anxiously. You're even more terrifying than they believed. You're not joking around or aloof this time. You're only expressing one thing, pure rage. So you do care about something. Whether you desire vengeance or truly cared for your people is unclear to the earthlings.

"Frieza was terrified. Our people were getting too strong for his liking. The Saiyan population was skyrocketing due to technological advancements. He was scared of what we could accomplish, terrified of the possibility that he could be out-ranked."

A Cheshire grin appears on Raditz's face. "We'll prove to him that he was right to fear us, right?"

"You bet your ass we will. We'll make Frieza regret leaving us alive." You take a deep breath, finally attempting to get your emotions in check, returning to your cold demeanor. "I just thought you should know. Before I killed him, Dodoria let the cat out of the bag to Vegeta."

"You killed that pink asshole? It was about time. How'd it feel?" The other stare at you two in bewilderment. Two seconds ago, you were swearing revenge, and now you're as casual as can be.

"It was extremely satisfying sending that pink blob straight to hell." You purse your lips together, cracking your neck. I should get back before Vegeta blows a fuse." You move to the doorway, stopping dead in your tracks. "Oh, ya one, last thing. Frieza's here."

"We know his men are here. We've already had the pleasure of encountering the Frieza Force."

"Raditz, I'm afraid you don't understand. It's not just his minions. He's here on Namek." Raditz chokes on air, his eyes popping out. You slam the door shut, hearing Raditz's reaction through the walls. The phrases we're so fucked, and we're all gonna die were your favorites of his elaborate babbling. You take off, heading back in the direction you came from.

As you near the location of the village, you quickly realize there is no point in returning. You can't sense any life, and that includes Vegeta. So this means he knows you ran off. You were due for one of his famous lectures anyway. Hopefully, he's not wasting his time searching for you. That would only make your predicament worse. 

You search in every direction, finally detecting your brother's energy to the west. Vegeta's power level is diminishing at an alarming rate. Maybe he's run into Zarbon or worse, Frieza. You take off at light speed, heading straight for the battleground.

Once you arrive, you conceal yourself behind a hill, observing the battle intently. It appears that Vegeta is fighting Zarbon, but something is off about the narcissist. His chest seems broader than it usually is. 

Zarbon turns around, your eyes widening at the ghastly sight. What the fuck happened to his face? He has to be the most hideous creature you've ever laid your eyes on, and there's a lot of competition for that category. This must be an alternate form of his, similar to your Great Ape form. It doesn't surprise you that you've never seen his transformation before. Even though it considerably increases his strength, his vanity has no limit. 

The green-haired egomaniac slams your brother into the ground, creating a blazing explosion. He stares down into the water-filled crater, and Vegeta is nowhere to be found. Your brother has gotten especially good at playing dead as of recent.

Zarbon reverts back into his base form, flying off into the distance. You wait an appropriate amount of time before heading toward the teal mass of water. You scan the lake, searching for your brother. He surfaces back up seconds later, desperately gasping for air. You extend a hand to Vegeta, pulling him onto land. 

He takes a few moments to collect himself before glaring daggers at you. "Where the--- hell did you run off to?" Despite being winded, he manages to find the breath to shout at you.

"I sensed some members of the Frieza Force. Thought I'd say hello." Believable lies are your specialty at this point.

"You can't---" He stops himself, his features softening at your expression. "Just never do that again. No more running off, especially without telling me. I'm serious this time. With Freiza here, I don't want you leaving my side again."

You can feel a familiar power level rapidly approaching, Zarbon's returning. "Change of plans. Go retrieve the Dragon Ball from that Namkian village. I tossed it in the water. I'll take care of the five that Frieza has."

"But, Vegeta." You giggle. "I'm not supposed to leave your side."

He glares at you. "Of course, now you decide to start listening to me. There is no reason for both of us to get captured. Now go!" You move to camouflage yourself again. Zarbon must need Vegeta for something. They most likely found the decimated village and want to question him about the location of the orb.

You watch Zarbon pick up your brother, who's pretending to be unconscious, and he flys away. You wait till you can no longer see Zarbon before speeding off to the Namekian village. Your plan is to retrieve the sphere and then take shelter somewhere. That is until you can sense Vegeta again.

You land in the ruins that were once the Namekian village. Damn Vegeta, did a lot of damage here. Your head snaps to the water. You swear you heard a splashing noise, and it couldn't have been a sea creature. If it was, the sound would've been louder. So what is it? Could it be one of Freiza's goons? If it is, they're probably weak. You'd be able to take them out with ease.

The creature emerges from the water with the four-star ball in his hands. He's a tiny little thing, way too small to be anyone currently in the Frieza Force. Something about the runt seems vaguely familiar. Wait a minute, that's Kakarot's brat. His hair's just shorter than it used to be. Half breeds must be able to change the length and style of their hair, fascinating. 

You sneak behind him with a blank look on your face. "What do you think you're doing, brat?"

Gohan jumps, turning around. "Y/N?" He shrieks, dropping the orb, which you swiftly catch one-handed. He looks around, anxiously searching for something or possibly someone. "Where's Vegeta?" His voice trembles just at saying your brother's name alone. Vegeta must have left quite the impression.

"Vegeta got himself---" You can feel Zarbon's impending presence once again, and the look on the brat's face tells you he can sense it too. This energy-sensing technique is becoming quite tedious, but you suppose it's better than being blindsided. What could Zarbon possibly want now? He already took Vegeta. Maybe he came to search for the Dragon Ball himself? Shit, you can't stay out in the open like this. You grab Gohan in one arm. And the four-starred ball in the other, rushing into a nearby cave. As an extra precaution, you seal the entrance with a boulder. Zarbon may be vain, but he's also significantly brighter than Dodoria was. Though that isn't very hard to do. 

You put a finger up to your lips, signaling for Gohan to keep quiet. The foot-steps outside grow louder. He must be standing right outside the cave by now. "Where are you, Vegeta?" He sounds deranged. So Vegeta did escape. Your best guess for Zarbon's erratic behavior is that Vegeta's prison break put Zarbon in hot water with Frieza. "Lord Frieza is going to have my head if I don't retrieve those Dragon Balls." Your insane brother actually did it. He stole the Dragon Balls from right under Frieza's nose. You're father's probably smiling up from hell as we speak.

You slide against the cave wall, dropping to the ground, leaning your head against the rock. You both might be here for a while. Zarbon is quite thorough with his searches. If he were to find you, it would put you in a tricky situation, especially with a Dragon Ball in your possession.

Gohan walks over to you, sitting down across from you. "Who is that?" Even though he's whispering, he's still being too loud for your liking."

"It's Zarbon. Now be quiet." You cover the orange ball in dirt and moss. If Zarbon does find you, the orb will be hidden in plain sight. Once finished with your little project, you shut your eyes. It's almost like you're alone. And not trapped in an enclosed space with your opposition's son.

"Y/N?" Your eyes snap open, immediately narrowing at the boy. You were about to reprimand him, but that was until you noticed the item in his hands. Your features soften as he extends the necklace to you.

You accept the necklace, grasping it tightly in your hands. "Thanks." A slight smile ghosts your lips before quickly vanishing.

"I was just returning what was yours." He looks at you, nervously twiddling his thumbs. "Hey Y/N? Where did you get that necklace from?" You hold up the jewelry, swinging the chain back and forth, getting lost in the memory.

Twenty-something years ago:

You're sitting down on your bed, with a book placed in your hands. Your gaze scans carefully over each word, occasionally flicking your wrist to flip the page. This is the newest piece of literature in your vast collection. You've only had this book for a few weeks. Vegeta gave it to you when he and Nappa returned from a mission off-planet. The book is all about these things called wish orbs. If you gather all seven, you can be granted all sorts of magical wishes. Vegeta says they're nothing more than a fairytale. That it's childish to believe in such an absurd concept, but you're convinced they exist. You've definitely seen stranger things occur, so it's in the realm of possibility for orbs to grant wishes. 

You hadn't even noticed that your father had entered your room. Until he was standing directly in front of you. Panic overtakes your body, your heart beating out of your chest. You slide the book under your comforter, even though it was much too late to hide the evidence. Your reaction may seem a bit extreme, but it's for a good reason. Books aren't necessarily illegal on Planet Vegeta, but they are forbidden. Your father believes that literacy is a waste of time. He considers combat training to be more essential to the prosperity of the Saiyan race.

"Relax." His gruff voice invades your ears. "I already know about the various books you hide around the palace." The king is a very observant man, making it extremely challenging to keep things from him. His general policy regarding situations like this is, he won't say anything unless someone brings it to his attention. Then he would be forced to move his hand, having to find a proper form of punishment.

"Is---Is there something you need?" It's not like him to drop by unannounced. Your father is a very busy man, sometimes you won't even see him for months at a time.

"As you know, you're going on a crucial mission tomorrow. Are you going to behave for your brother?" You nod in agreement. "You are also not to leave his side, do you understand me?" Ever since the incident, you're not allowed off-planet without either your father or Vegeta. One of them has to watch you like a hawk at all times because of one stupid mistake. That will probably be held over your head for the rest of your mortal life.

"Yes, sir." You decide to give him verbal confirmation as well. This way, you can avoid any potential lectures.

"Now, let's get down to business. While I was out on my last excursion. I found this piece of junk with my things. I thought I'd check if you wanted it before I destroyed it." He holds up the necklace. The pendant immediately catches your eye. It's one of the pictures from your book, the four-star wish orb. 

You nod, accepting the gift. You wrap the chain around your wrist, toying with the trinket. You've gotten pretty good at reading between the lines when it comes to your father. Saiyans aren't meant to express their emotions. You're raised to suppress them. Your father picks up on little things, like the fact that you're currently obsessed with wish orbs. You and Vegeta had to have gotten your conflicting behaviors from somewhere. And that somewhere was your father. The King of all Saiyans, the most ruthless of them all, deeply cared for his children.

He places his hands on your shoulders, causing you to look up at him. His eyes flicker with vulnerability as you stare at him. "Listen to me. Vegeta needs you just as much as you need him. You are capable of things that he isn't. And you are much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You are my sole daughter, the pinnacle of Saiyan pride. Never forget where you came from."

"A-Are you alright? You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, Y/N. Now get to sleep. You have to be up early." He leans down, kissing the top of your head before exiting the room. This only elevates your confusion. Your father has never done that before. Physical affection is not something Saiyan's participate in. At least they aren't supposed to. 

Little did you know, this would be the last time you ever saw your father alive. Looking back on it, as an adult, his strange behavior makes sense. This was his way of saying goodbye. He must have had some inkling about Frieza's plans for your race.

You snap back into reality, shifting your gaze to Gohan. Typically when you spaced out, it would irritate your companions. Maybe it would even earn you a scolding from Vegeta. But the kid has just been sitting there, keenly anticipating your response.

"My father gave it to me." Your tone softens. Nostalgia sometimes does that to you. Gohan is the first person you've ever told the origin of your necklace. It wasn't necessarily a secret. You've just never felt the need to talk about it.

Some Final Notes:

"Wasn't he the king, though? Couldn't he have given you a diamond or gold necklace? Or something fit for royalty?"

"He could have. It was more about the sentiment behind the necklace." And with that, the silence returns. Being in this cave really reminds you of your pod. Scratch that it's worse. The brat is just too nice to the point where it's nauseating. For the half-breed's sake, you hope that Zarbon leaves soon. Because you're not sure how much more of this you'll be able to take.

-

Some Final Notes:

I know some of you might think King Vegeta was a bit out of character. However, I believe King Vegeta did care for his children to an extent. I know there’s some confusion in the fanbase about Tarble, whether he’s canon or not. But since the script for Yo! Son Goku and His Friends Return!!! was a concept created by Akira Toriyama. I personally believe Tarble is cannon. So King Vegeta banishing his son, rather than executing him, does show he had empathy for Tarble, even though he was viewed as a disgrace on his entire bloodline.

[vasiktomis]

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

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The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

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The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

[shysneeze]

phases of falling in love (ginny weasley x fem!reader)

Description: the painful process of reader falling for her Ginny Weasley, her best friend.

Warnings: angst af, I can’t think of anything else specific but please let me know if you come across anything and I’ll add it

Authors note: in love by khai dreams and she by dodie fit this in my head and are worth a listen.( edit, : i have a playlist here that fits this entire fic) . 

 ...

(Y/N) has decided that falling in love comes in three distinct phases: realisation, denial, and acceptance, though with various forms of panic in between.

No one’s ever boasted that falling in love is easy, the bitter angst of doing so the subject of too many pieces of literature to be doubted. Yet, no one’s ever told her it would be this hard, but she supposes the stakes were always going to be higher when it’s your best friend.

Realisation came first during a party, sat in a small group by the fireplace as the cheers and laughter so typical of a Gryffindor victory party raged on around them. They weren't much different from the others, talking loudly and laughing with their heads thrown back dramatically. They were discussing the game, (Y/N) thinks, though she can hardly remember now, nor was she particularly invested at the time. 

How could she be with her just across the from her, fair freckled skin aglow from the fire, who's light danced across her face with each flame’s flicker. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders effortlessly, as if it was pulled straight from the ponytail she wore during the afternoon's match.

That was the night she looked at Ginny  Weasley and felt something in her heart, longing perhaps, that went beyond mere friendship, the first night Ginny's smile made her chest tighten and her eyes finding hers with a wink made her gulp. 

It was the first time she looked at Ginny and saw her best friend but longed for more. 

Denial was easy after that, the whole thing flippantly dismissed as a fluke of the evening, blamed on the giddy feeling that accompanied the house’s victory that Ginny played such a vital part in securing. It was nothing more appreciation, awe.

Weeks later though, and the tugging in her chest still lingers, holding her hostage and controlling her every move.

It flares up unexpectedly, from a smile at lunch, a wave during matches or a laugh hidden behind textbooks during classes. There is an endless array of quirks and habits that (Y/N) has never once before paid attention to that now leave her stomach victim to butterflies and her heart to palpitations.

Yet the denial continues, excuses ranging from the outlandish to the self-deprecating. Perhaps an insensitive prank, a love potion slipped regularly into her morning orange juice, or maybe it’s just all in her head, a crush manifested from loneliness, from the desire to be loved by someone.

Excuses are easy to provide, yet even easier to disprove and it soon becomes clear that every attempt to deny her own feelings is fruitless. Acceptance looms over her, unmindful of the heart it’s about to break.

Acceptance comes reluctantly during an evening’s study in the library. There’s no blame to place on atmosphere this time, hidden together at the end of an aisle of shelves, sat across from one another at a desk most certainly made for one.

The characteristic smell of old books lingers in the air and speckles of dust are illuminated by a dim lamp as they float aimlessly around them. The light does nothing to highlight the red in Ginny’s hair the way the flames of the fire had during the party, or to draw the warm brown from her eyes,  yet (Y/N) is enamoured. 

(Y/N)'s quill hangs limply between her fingers, ink drying on the tip with a word half-finished on her parchment. Across from her, Ginny bites her lower lip in concentration, deep brown eyes scanning each word she writes, occasionally lifting her hands to fix the loose bun holding her fiery red hair from her face, ridding her eyes of the messy stray strands with a frustrated rush of air from her pink lips. 

(Y/N) gulps and panics slightly that in the quiet of the library, her best friend might hear the hammering of her heart in her chest. They're so close that their knees touch under the desk and (Y/N) is left unsure on whether to move her legs or not from fear of only drawing attention to it. 

She's trying to convince herself to act normal, that this is all normal, a scenario they've been in so many times before with procrastinated essays and last minute deadlines, that she has no reason to act any different, yet her heart races, and she can hear it in her own ears.

It’s terrifying.

She's mid inner quarrel when Ginny lets out a loud sigh of surrender and lets her quill clatter against the desk. (Y/N) blinks out of her daze, dropping her own quill in surprise and frowning at the red head. 

"Snape is asking for one of the twin's puking pastilles in his tea." She grumbles.

"They'd give you them for free if you tell them it's for Snape." (Y/N) manages a laugh. "How much more have you got to do?" 

Ginny peers at her own parchment, then at (Y/N)'s with a questioning frown, reaching over to snatch it into her hands. She examines it with arched brows and stifles a small laugh at whatever she's read. 

"Better than you- You've neglected to finish the word 'assignment', (Y/N)." She snorts softly. "It just says 'ass'." 

(Y/N) stands abruptly to grab it back from her amused friend with a quiet 'oi' and a flustered wide-eyed expression that only adds to Ginny's laughter until she's clasping her hand atop her lips to muffle the sound. 

"I got d-distracted." She explains embarrassedly. "It's just the first draft." 

"Oh no, I think you should hand it in as is." She grins. "I want to see Snape's face." 

"I'm not getting detention just so you can get a laugh." She argues. 

"Aw, come on." Ginny pouts. "Not even for me?" 

A part of her, a shameful part, almost instantly concedes to the offer, despite its teasing nature, just for Ginny's puppy dog eyes, which (Y/N) has until now been immune to. She falters for only a second before fixing her friend with a frown. 

"No, not even for you." She decides firmly. "Lets hear yours then, Gin." 

Ginny dramatically clears her throat with a grin, something that eerily reminds (Y/N) of her elder brothers, and begins to read aloud before (Y/N) stops her with an eye roll, cautious of the pacing click of Madam Pince's heels as she roams the aisles for the opportunity to evict noisy teens. 

"You'll be surprised to hear I finished all my words and never once spoke about my arse." 

"Sod off." (Y/N) rolls her eyes again. 

"Well, what’s got you so distracted you felt the need to conclude that you 'learned lots about counter curses from this ass'?" 

"You memorized it all ready?" 

"Of course." She beams cheekily. "How else am I to tell the rest of our friends?" 

"You are the worst." 

"You love me really though." 

(Y/N) worries when she can't laugh that off, when she falters for only a second, but enough to remind herself of this new and scary situation. She forces on a smile and hope she's been quick and convincing enough to seem normal, though something in Ginny's eyes tells her otherwise. 

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?" 

"Fine." 

"Hmm, you look nervous." Ginny hints. "What are you hiding? Is it a girl?" 

(Y/N) is exposed instantly by the involuntary widening of her eyes and Ginny grins menacingly at her from across the tiny desk. She leans over, palms flat against the desk and head so close to (Y/N)'s that their foreheads almost touch. 

(Y/N) forgets to breathe. 

"Who is it?" 

"No one." (Y/N) manages, edging back as subtly as possible. "It's not anyone." 

"Aw, c'mon." Ginny rolls her eyes. "Tell me." 

"You're going to make Madam Pince kick us out again." 

Ginny tuts, rolling her eyes and returning to her seat, allowing (Y/N) to drop her shoulders in relief. She sighs as she picks her quill up again, soaking the tip in ink with a rejuvenated intent to write, motivated by the chance to change the topic of conversation. 

"You're no fun." Ginny mumbles. "I'll find out." 

“There isn’t anything to find out.” (Y/N) exhales, not daring to look up from her parchment, knowing once again her expression will betray her. “Or anyone.”

“Oh, but there is.”

(Y/N) doesn’t need to look up to know the red-head is grinning, it’s evident in her voice. All she can do in response is take a deep, calming breath and continue with her work.

It’s not long before she can feel Ginny’s eyes on the top of her head and she freezes again, not sure when this became a talent of hers, to tell just from some new sixth sense that Ginny Weasley is staring at her.

“Can I help you?”

“Is it Willow Kings?”

“Been there, done that.” (Y/N) mumbles with a sigh. “She’s nice but talks about her owl too much.”

“Hmm.” Ginny hums in contemplation. “You’re not crushing on Pansy again, are you?”

In every single way, (Y/N) wishes that was her current shameful crush, rather than the girl currently interrogating her. When (Y/N) denies it, Ginny begins to hum again in thought.

“Luna?”

“Luna’s just a friend.” (Y/N) sighs, distinctly trying to convince herself the same thing about Ginny at this exact moment. “I’m not telling you, Gin.”

“Ugh, why not?” Ginny grumbles loudly.

The red-head’s face pales when the methodical clicking of the Librarian’s heels halts, wincing at what is soon to follow. The sound begins again, quicker and sharper as it approaches the pair.

“Shit.” Ginny curses, already gathering her work into her arms. “Here we go.”

“You two.”

The girls turn sheepishly to the other end of the aisle, where Madam Pince stares them down, one hand on her hip, other extended outwards to point at them with a disapproving look.

“We’re just leaving.” Ginny assures.

Ginny stands, reaching out innocently for (Y/N)’s hand and clasping it in her own to drag her to her feet as she splutters out protests, flustered instantly by the action. Ginny only gives her enough time to gather her things before pulling her towards the exit.

“S-low down, Ginny.” She pleads. “Sorry, Madam- “

The librarian scowls at them with an icy look as they squeeze past her towards the exist, Ginny’s laughter barely concealed as they go. (Y/N) can barely focus on anything other than the hand in her own.

Once in the corridor, convinced of their own escape from the strict librarian, Ginny flings he rhead back in a laugh, bun bouncing on her head at the action, cheeks flushed from the excitement of it.

“Every time!” She exclaims. “We get chased out every time.”

“I-“

(Y/N) is too stunned to form a sentence, stunned not by their actions, one’s regularly performed to avoid Madam Pince’s wrath, but rather how suddenly loud her heart is in her own ears.

She could blame adrenalin, it would be so easy to do so, but she knows it’s not. It’s many things, but not adrenalin. Instead Ginny’s laughter, her free and proud laughter so cheerful on her ears, it’s the baby hairs framing her face, endearingly messy, and it’s most certainly the hand still clasped in her own, warm and soft.

Acceptance, that final phase. No amount of excuses in the world could hide it now, that (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is undoubtedly, and most terrifyingly, in love with her best friend.

In this moment, watching Ginny’s grin, that infectious smile that has (Y/N) own lips pulling into a smile of her own, she’s about ready to risk it all for her, to tug her closer and ask, even beg, to kiss her.

“Ginny- “She starts

“Harry!”

Like that, the spell is broken and Ginny’s hand is slipping from (Y/N)’s and her feet carrying her towards the red faced boy-who-lived at the other end of the corridor, flinging herself eagerly into conversation with him and leaving (Y/N)’s smile to drop.

The tugging feeling in (Y/N)’s chest returns, and she finds herself back in reality. Ginny likes Harry, she always has, it’s been the topic of so many late-night teasing, how could (Y/N) possibly forget. It hurts though, in a way it never has before, a painful stab of reality sent straight to her heart.

(Y/N) has just learned for herself that falling in love is never easy, even if her heartbreak isn’t one likely to be documented as a great tragic romance in future. No one told her it would be this hard, but as she watches Ginny grinning up at the boy across the hall, her heart twists with the reluctant acceptance that, not only is she in love, but that her best friend is in  love with someone else.