#can we just have silver accents or none at all please please please please

[yourworldiseternallycomplete]

starting the search for "new" headphones (refurbished) and ughhhhhals

[writeforfandoms]

Homeward Bound 1

Find the series masterlist

Welcome to my newest wip, because dragons are my absolute favorite fantasy creature. Also, please leave canon at the door, this is a full on fantasy AU we're now entering.

Seriously. I have so much world building already done for this. Come ask me questions.

We've got a bit of a slow burn, dragons, baby dragons, and drama. What more could you want?

Eventual Simon Riley x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, fantasy au rules, literal dragons.

Word count: 1k

You huffed as, yet again, Kyle and John invaded the nesting area. They had gotten more polite over the last weeks, but still. 

Truly, though, you couldn't entirely blame them. They were both in the group for this upcoming Hatching, and were very eager. John had been passed over last time, and Kyle was new this time. 

You would never tell them, but you had a good feeling for them, for this season. 

“Quiet down,” you told them, stern and no-nonsense, refusing to smile at their silliness. 

“Aw, we jus’ wanted te see,” John wheedled, his northern accent still strong despite his time in the capital. 

You rolled your eyes. “Quietly, then,” you stressed, taking a quick look round. Most of the dragons were still calm, only one or two first timers fidgety and anxious. Good enough. Nothing to fuss over. 

Kyle nodded eagerly, making a face at John. But the two were quick to look around the nests, whispering to each other. 

You just closed your eyes and leaned back in your seat. They'd be fine. And if they weren't, they'd get hissed at. 

Good enough. 

Yawning briefly, you blinked lazily up at the ceiling of the cave, which stretched far above your head. Strategic perches had been hewn into the rock over generations of dragons, giving plenty of spaces above the hatching grounds for the dragons to observe. The seating had been added for humans to observe, long before you. 

In a matter of weeks, the seats would be filled, and the cave would be the site of great joy once again. 

Kyle cleared his throat softly, prompting you to look at him instead of the ceiling. You raised one eyebrow in silent question. 

“You know best,” he murmured with a little smile. “How are they looking?”

“Healthy,” you murmured. “No issues that I can see. It's a good clutch this year.” 

“Good.” Kyle smiled, clearly pleased. “That's good to hear.” 

“You don't have long to wait now,” you encouraged gently, taking pity on the young man. 

He nodded, looking at the nests and the mothers with something akin to awe in his eyes. “Not long,” he agreed in a murmur. 

Your lips twitched in a smile, a little against your will. You had appearances to maintain, after all. “Go on,” you murmured. “Either go say hi to some of them, or go elsewhere.”

He shot you a look, a little startled and a little betrayed, but he nodded. He made the smart choice and went to the silver near you, greeting her. He'd be fine. 

You, instead, looked for John to make sure he wasn't getting into trouble. It took you a moment to spot him, way out by Ilsbet. Rather to your surprise, she had tucked him into her nest. 

Could be first-timer instincts, although most first-time mothers went the other way and drove everyone away from their nests… 

You meandered your way over there, smiling when Ilsbet chirruped at you in greeting, stretching her head out to gently nudge your shoulder. “Hi, sweetheart,” you murmured, scratching under her chin. “You seem to have a pest in your nest.” 

“Oi!” John's indignation was muffled somewhat. 

Ilsbet purred, trying to encourage you closer. Probably so she could tuck you into her nest along with John. 

“No, sweetheart.” You patted her nose. “I can't. We've talked about this, remember?” 

She drooped, massive green body only squishing John a little. He oofed. 

“Oh come now,” you scolded gently. “None of that, hm? Or your rider will insist I'm tormenting you.” 

“Are you not?” The dry question came from behind you. 

You didn't jump, but you did slowly turn to look. Ilsbet's rider was big and broad, blonde hair kept short, the usual fabric covering the lower half of his face. Brown eyes stared at you, impassive and unimpressed. 

“No, Simon. I am not tormenting your dragon.” You kept your tone flat as you spoke to him, none of the teasing warmth you had for Ilsbet coming through. 

Simon grunted once and stepped around you, staring down at John in his dragon's nest. “Out.” 

“But–” John started to protest. 

“Out,” Simon repeated, crossing his arms over his chest. 

John sighed but got out of the nest carefully. Ilsbet didn't even notice, busy purring and chirping at her rider. You did catch a glimpse of four eggs, shells still soft beige flecked with gold. Good. 

You were quick to back off and leave Simon alone. He was notorious for being difficult to get close to, even among the riders. And since this was Ilsbet's first time nesting… Well. You expected him to be extra grumpy. 

But the hatching wasn't that far away now, thankfully. 

You made your way back over to your seat, settling down again. In a little while, you'd check on the mothers, see if they needed anything. See if you could get another count on the eggs. 

But that would be in a little bit. For now, you found Kyle and John, watching them talk quietly. Your gaze wandered back to Simon, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the way his body language had softened as he spoke to his dragon. 

He did have a heart. You'd known that, of course. You'd been at the hatching when he'd been selected. Dragons didn't select people who were heartless. 

Although how such a sweet dragon had selected someone as reserved as Simon… You would never understand. 

John and Kyle left, and Simon left not long after them. Your domain returned to quiet, the sand warm even through your shoes. All was as it should be. 

You breathed out slowly, eyes drooping half-closed again. This was better. 

Not too much longer until the hatching. 

Not that you went a single day without seeing Simon, as he came in to check on Ilsbet often. It was almost like he didn't trust you. 

Honestly, you weren't sure if it was just you, or if he was just like that in general. After several days of dealing with him, you were inclined to think he was just like that. 

Well. The hatching would be over soon, and then it was unlikely you'd see much of him for three more years.

[blerb-f1]

"Lost" - Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Charles celebrates too hard and gets lost. More news at 6

Find more on my masterlist!

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“Sir?”

“Sir!”

“Wah?”

Charles awoke as he felt his shoulder getting ruffled, eyes dry and hurting. His throat was dry.

“Sir, please get up. This train is finished cleaning, you have to leave”

‘Train?’, he wondered in confusion. Hadn't he just been celebrating his win in Monaco? He took a look at the person shaking him. She was a train attendant, pretty looking he might add. Her uniform was not flattering the least. A light blue t-shirt with a dark blue vest thrown over it. Her accent was german. He attempted to get out of his seat but stumbled, bad leg control.

She supported his shoulder. 

“Where am I?”

“Far off from any kind of civilisation you'd normally travel to, based on that watch on your arm” the attended reported. “The middle of nowhere, in Germany.”

Charles held his head. “I don't remember getting on this train at all.”

She looked at him with a lifted eyebrow. “Well, you had all the necessary tickets for your journey. Must have gotten them from somewhere.”

Together they walked outside of the train. The train station was small, one white painted building. Only two tracks, lot's off trees.

“Have you got anywhere to go to?”

Charles looked at her, thinking. Fumbling around his pocket resulted in nothing, his phone and wallet were gone. Shit.

“Apparently not. Let's just get going. You can stay the night with me, I've got space.”

“Can't I just take this train back to where I'm from?” Charles asked her in desperation.

“Good Joke, truly. This train runs every two hours during the day. And then you'd have to take more trains, none of which usually run in the night as well. Also, I've had a long day of work. I'm really, really beat up.”

Charles sighed. ‘What did I just get myself into? The people saying to not mix uppers and downers were right…’

She led him to her Car, a little silver Hyundai. Throwing her backpack in and settling into the driver's seat, she sighed in relief. “Finally done.”

“Done?”

“I've got the weekend off. Your arrival kinda ruined it but we gotta take the things as they come. I'm Y/N L/N. You?”

“Charles Leclerc”

“That sounds French”

“Monegasque”

“What? I don't know that word”

“I'm from Monaco!”

She looked at him in surprise.  “Now you're pulling my leg. You got here from MONACO? You must have taken like 10+ trains!”

“Urgs, not so loud. My head hurts”

“God.” She groaned as she inserted the car key, starting the little engine. “Move your hand”

“Huh?”

“Either you move your hand or you loosen the handbrake. I can't get it with you spreading over there”

Charles quickly lifted his arms in the air. “Isn't it Electric?”

She just looked at him exasperated. “Do I look like I'm shitting money? I can't afford a car that new. Unless you'd wanna pay one Mr. Money Bag over there.”

“Oi, that's rude”

“You're from Monaco, don't y'all bath in money and champagne? Now, let's just get going.”

The car ride was silent with Charles looking out of the windows. This really was the countryside. Trees, fields, cows and horses. Lots of half-timbered houses.

After half an hour of journey, with them passing over roads he'd never even classify as those, considering the many holes and breaks they finally reached a large property. A large half timbered house with a similar looking barn and a long building houses garages presented itself to him. She parked the Hyundai in one of the Garages, the smaller one to be exact, and stepped outside.

Charles followed her as she unlocked the front door, revealing a house with small-ish rooms with low height walls painted weight. The most color each room spotted was oak- all the furniture and floor were oak. He had never been in a house like this before.

“Stair up, the left room is the bathroom. Soap's there, go shower. I'll put clean clothes and towels in front of the door for you.”

“Shower?” 

“Sorry …Charlie. You stink. Long journey and all”

“Ah, I'm so sorry! I'll go shower immediately!”

Charles stepped into the bathroom, throwing his clothes on the ground. The second they left his body he noticed the less than stellar stench of sweat, alcohol and weed stuck on them. The water hitting his skin felt heavenly, scrubbing off layers of grime and dirt he never thought could amass so quickly. The water was different, as well. It didn't smell of chlorine as much, more like iron instead. Nonetheless, only after the shower did he realize what a stinky guy he had become. The clothes laid in front of the door were oversized on him. Some red, used polo shirt and cargo pants with frayed edges awaited him. Downstairs in the Kitchen, Y/N had changed into casual wear, foot already served on the table. Charles settled into the chair, staring at the provided meal. “What, you’re not hungry?” she asked him, tauntingly. “I don’t know how to eat this” he had to state.

“Look”, she said. The table was covered in two plates, each having a solid kind of bun laid on it and a pot with sausages swimming around. She took her knife, cutting a slit into the Bun. “Take the Brötchen-”, she then grabbed a fork and fished out a sausage, putting it into the ‘Brötchen’, “then put the sausage in there. "That's it.”

“Nothing else?” Charles asked, pretty confused.

“Yeah, simple meal you know. "Nothing fancy.”

“Hm.”

They ate silently, with Charles being confused at how hard that Brötchen was. He slept in the living room that night. The house didn’t have blinds but there were no street lights to keep him awake. Instead pure silence, something he never encountered anywhere. It was almost blissful - until the sun woke him up at 6AM and the birds were singing really loudly. He heard a loud mechanical noise and a cupboard clinking, then Y/N appeared in the doorway, offering a mug. “Coffee.”

The cup of coffee was hot, very nice.

“We’ll go to the electronics store to get you a phone, so that you can get your stuff in order. I can’t get you onto a plane without documents.”

“Aight.”

“Are we there soon?”

“Sorry mate, nothing’s close by.”

Driving to the electronic store took over half an hour and as they finally arrived, no grand palace was awaiting him. It was a dinky old little store, the bottom floor housing washing machines, fridges and vacuums. The upstairs was mostly TVs and DVDs, the phones tucked into the corner. Charles approached the few iPhones they had there, playing around with them.

“Dude, pick something cheaper”

"Why?" I’d just buy something that lasts.”

Y/N looked at him in annoyance. “I don’t know when you’ll be able to pay me back. That stupid phone is like a third of my monthly income. I can’t afford that.”

“A third?”, he asked in shock.

“Yeah, train attendants don’t earn much. Tickets want to be cheap right? Also…” she added. “We gotta get you a limited plan. Since you don’t have an ID, I have to be the owner. We should get a monthly one so that i can cancel it later.”

He simply agreed, settling on one heck of a cheap phone.

“Finally.” he sighed, installing his social media apps and creating a new WhatsApp profile. Contact to the outside world could be established.

“I need to call my team.”

“Please do, i bet they’re worried sick”

Charles leaned against the door as Y/N settled inside, as he heard the familiar call beep. Then, a voice he hadn’t heard in a while returned from the speaker.

“Who’s there?”, asked his friend, Andrea Ferrari.

“It’s me, Charles!”

"Charles?!" Where the fuck have you been ? We were so worried about you!”

“So fun story, i apparently took multiple trains and am now somewhere randomly in Germany. And I lost my wallet along with my phone.”

“Somewhere in Germany and no identification… Can you rent a car?”

“No, since I obviously have no ID, right?”

"Ah, shit. How’d you get a phone?”

“A train attendant took me in and bought it, but she can’t really afford more than that.”

Andrea seemed to think for a moment. “What if we send her money and she drives you back?”

“That sounds like a moronic, stupid journey…”

Shortly afterwards, Y/N made large eyes as insane amounts of cash appeared on her bank account. She didn’t believe that Charles actually was rich, especially not that he was an F1 Driver. For Ferrari as well! The Michael Schumacher Ferrari! She was quick to convince however, as a paid vacation like that sounded like a nice idea. They headed to the car dealership which also rented cars.

“Hyundai, again?” Charles complained.

Y/N just stared at him. “I know a guy there, the only spot where they won’t scam you.”

She had picked a car that looked quite similar to hers, just a bit longer with more horsepower. “I don’t like driving big cars. Want some power for the Autobahn though.” Charles whined in Response:” Can’t I drive? Pretty please? I haven't driven a car in a while~”

“Do you currently have a physical license?”

“No”

“Then shut up. I'd lose my license if we were to get caught. My car takes me to work, no options without”

He wanted to pout in response but that had quickly become not an option. The drive was sheer madness. Y/N was running on hopes and energy drinks, pushing the little car to its limit. Charles was gripping every piece of interieur he physically could as she drove at max speed for every stretch she could. Google had estimated the journey to take 13 hours, she shaved off 2 of them. He made a note of never saying that women were the calmer drivers. Blasting loud techno music that turned into a monotonous drone combined with the engine screaming as German countryside flew past him, only interrupted by gas station breaks.

Sweet, sweet silence they proved to be. A heaven of calm, shoved tightly between what most likely was an out-of-body experience.

Then, silence, white doves and heavenly goodness stopped: the return of techno. Y/N throwing the Car around Italy’s shit roads, ignoring all laws of traffic ever created. One goal in Mind: Maranello.

With the crack of dawn and the first worker’s arriving to open the doors, they saw something they had never seen in their long career. A crazed car coming to a full stop, brakes glowing hot directly in front of them. Passenger side flung open and their golden treasure stepping out. Il Predestino had returned, he had risen from the dead. 

And was vomiting against a tree.

“Aren’t you F1 Drivers supposed to be tough or something?”

Charles tiredly leaned against said tree, face free of blood. “We’re tough but not tough like that. I can survive a long ass GP but not 11 hours of insanity”

The crazed driver laughed, her whole body shaking. She approached him, forcefully shaking his hand. “It was nice to get to know you, big boy. I want to go to sleep now, hit me up if you want to visit Germany again.” Y/N shoved a slip of paper between his tightly pressed fingers and walked off as an employee showed her the way. She was to stay somewhere close by as some NDAstuff needed to be handled now.

On the other side, more people were approaching. Charles' friends, the team and the media. Maybe Germany was actually a nice spot to vacation in. Without all the circus going on here. When was the winter break again?

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I pinky promise that i WILL continue this since i wrote it for my friend acexf1 over on YouTube. It's more set-up than anything rn. My other stuff is also getting continuations now!

[roostersgirlfriendlovesf1]

i'll be home for christmas

bradley bradshaw x reader

prompt: bradley has been on a mission the past couple of weeks and as christmas approaches y/n becomes more lonely. she decorates their apartment as she awaits his return...

warnings: none, just cute ;)

an: hi guys!! this is my first post hope you love it! i will be taking requests for rooster or hangman and if you're intrested in f1 lando norris and charles leclerc! i def need ideas so please comment!

A cold breeze makes its way into the apartment as y/n attempts to hang the last string of lights on the tree. The sound of waves crashing on the shore almost drowned out the sound of Nat King Cole’s A Classic Christmas playlist. Y/n peaked out of the window, the sun was quickly setting. Bradley was set to arrive home any day now. Christmas was a holiday that they had not yet spent together over the past two years; Bradley was either on a mission or stuck having a late night on base.  She stepped down from the chair she was balancing on and poured herself a glass of wine. She had been slowly decorating more and more each night, hoping that she would be staying up late enough to greet Bradley when he came home. She never knew what his mood would be when he got home, but always tried to keep a smile. She had put on green, plaid pajama pants and a tighter black long sleeve. She heard the sound of giggles outside the balcony door. Y/n peeked out, seeing a family of three spending their Christmas Eve together. She grabbed a plate of cookies off of the counter, not wanting them to all go to waste as she could not eat them all. She slipped on a pair of uggs and walked downstairs. She waved politely. The family lived a couple apartments down. “Cookies?” 

The mom bent down. “Go get a cookie.” She tickled her daughter before the little girl shyly approached y/n. She grabbed a sugar cookie with red, green, and white sprinkles.

“Good choice!” y/n smiled before looking back up at the two adults. 

“Brad coming home soon?” The man asked.

“He said he would be home between December 20th and December 26th…” She sighed, “So hopefully in the next couple of days.”

“If you want to come over tomorrow we wouldn’t mind.” The woman smiled.

“It's alright.” y/n shook her head. “I just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas!” She bid them goodnight and let herself back into the lonely apartment. She shut the balcony door before taking a step back to appreciate the Christmas scene she had set for herself. A moment of appreciation quickly turned into a moment of loneliness. The room was dark except for the accent of faded-white Christmas lights and candles. She wanted her boyfriend with her. His perfect golden skin, infectious laugh, and comforting smell. She sat down at the piano he had and their first memories together flooded her mind. She had moved in with him a week after she convinced him to buy the piano. He knew he was in love as soon as she pointed out the piano. It had faded wood and the paint on the black keys had just about dissipated.

“This one is perfect.” She ran her fingers along the keys.

His heart dropped as he studied the piano. “This looks like the one my dad would play when we went out for food at this one diner…”

“Then you need it!” She smiled at him. “It's gotta be a sign.” All he could do was stare at it. She placed a hand on his shoulder, kissing his cheek. “I’m gonna go see how much I can negotiate the price.”

He watched her as she debated with the store owner. She waved Bradley over with an angsty look. “He agreed to lower it by 20%, think that's fine?” She crossed her arms.

“Yes.” He was determined to have the piano. “I’m going to be broke after this.”

“Christmas is coming up.” She declared. “So I’m obligated to put some money in for this.”

“No-”

“Yes.” She nodded. As she put their money together Bradley noticed her eyes latch onto a silver necklace with a red heart. He watched as she read the price, sighed, and then continued to count the money owed for the piano.

She was now slumped over it, attempting to find a tune. She set her wine glass on a side table and glared at the keys. They hadn’t been touched in weeks. The sound of laughter and singing hadn’t echoed off the walls in what felt like decades. She wished the piano could comfort her the way Bradley did. Tears filled her eyes, but had not yet fallen as she realized the Christmas songs playing on her speaker had stopped. She put on a new playlist before shuffling into she and Bradley’s bedroom searching for a sweater. She opened the closet door, grabbing a gray sweatshirt. She and Bradley’s separate sides of the closet had now just blended into one wardrobe. She pulled it over her head, prepared for another long night of finding a show to binge. Y/n grabbed a blanket and went to clean the Christmas plate she ate dinner on. Being alone made her envy the times she had to clean double the dishes. The sound of the sink running overpowered the sound of the front door unlatching. She set the plate down in the sink, sighing before blowing out a candle. Thump. A duffel bag landed on the floor and her attention was diverted. The tired eyes of a familiar pilot greeted her as she rushed herself into his arms. Her arms were wrapped around him tightly, one hand running through the hair on the back of his head. His arms caged around her waist as he kissed the side of her face, mustache tickling her. “Merry Christmas, baby.” He whispered in a tired, raspy voice. 

“Merry Christmas,” she breathed, pulling away to look at him with glassy eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” He let out a breathy laugh, obviously exhausted. “I couldn’t get you anything really nice, but I picked something up on the way home…” He placed his forehead against hers. 

She kissed him. “You didn’t need to get me anything.” He nodded, but retreated to his duffel bag, grabbing a green box from inside it. 

He placed it in her hands before bringing them down to hold her waist. “Nothing was really open this late, but-”

“Shhhhh….” She hushed him. She opened the box to find a sticker and a silver necklace.

“The sticker has the exact plane I fly on it, so that you can stick it on your phone case and look at it when you miss me. It was dumb, but it was at the 24/7 gas station.” She stayed silent, taking the necklace out. “Now that…” He cupped his hand around hers, taking the necklace into his own hand. “I’ve had for a while.” He hooked it around her neck. It was a simple necklace, but had a tiny red heart that fell right between her collarbone.

“Bradley…” Her voice caught. “Thank you.” She kissed him again. 

“God I’ve missed you.” He embraced her again.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Fairytales : In which Virgil kills some plants.

Virgil ends up on a quest in the imagination he didn't agree to. Through which he ends up slaughtering some flora, almost stabbing an old woman and expessing his hatred for a staircase in his quest to rescue his beloved from his own woes.

----

| Ao3 |

Warnings: None I'm aware of, if there are any I should list lmk!

Pairings: Prinxiety

Word Count: 2139

Notes:

This is the longest fic I've written from one of these ship weeks so far jfkdlsjfds

Todays prompts from @prinxietyweek were Fairytale and Daydream! Both of which I employed here!

Roman is genderfluid in this fic/au! They switch between pronouns and how they prefer to present - in this fic they're using they/them

I don't think this needs any tws but please let me know if I should add any!

----

“Roman?” Virgil yelled into the forest, picking his way through dense vegetation, pushing aside a thick dark green vine to keep making his way forward. Belatedly he realised he could use the sword at his hip he had been given to cut through them - albeit sloppily, Virgil wasn’t good with a sword, “Ro c’mon, we don’t have time for this!”

The wind whistled through the trees, there was no answer.

“Can you at least - eugh-” Virgil slashed at an invitingly pink flower that had started oozing some kind of corrosive slime as he got closer, “Can you at least give me a hint at what I’m even doing here?”

Looking for Roman was a pretty monumental task when Roman didn’t want to be found, and Virgil had been the unlucky soul to get the job (he had volunteered). They were supposed to be going to a ball on Remus’ side of the imagination as a group in less than an hour and no-one had been able to find Roman, so Virgil had said he’d go into the imagination to look. His time spent in there with the Prince himself had gotten him acquainted enough.

At least so he thought. 

When he entered the imagination he found himself in this thick forest - closed in on all sides with dense vegetation, half of which seemed to be out to kill him. Not to mention he was dressed up all fancy. The imagination was in quest mode.

Quest Mode was the name Virgil had affectionately given to the infuriatingly frustrating trials and plotlines Roman liked to conjure up to get the others to play in. They’d get an outfit change, a character role, sometimes even a backstory. Virgil hated it (he didn’t, usually he liked the adventures his beloved Prince put together for them all, he was just frustrated). He was yet to even work out what his role was supposed to be here and Roman wasn’t giving any hints. 

And they had to be somewhere! Yet the only way to get out of a quest was either for Roman themself to end it or for the quest to reach its conclusion. Great.

“Where am I supposed to be going?” Virgil yelled at the sky, which he couldn’t see through the canopy. 

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance and Virgil groaned, taking that as a sign and beginning to head that way. At least he finally had a direction.

“So…” Virgil said aloud to no-one, “Anyone gonna tell me who I’m supposed to be…. Or what I’m doing here…? Where is Roman anyway, they’re usually here with us!”

No response. Virgil looked for a puddle of water he could at least see his reflection in, before once again realising he had a very shiny sword in hand that he could quite easily use to look at himself. When he did, he groaned. 

On his head was a silver crown. It was light enough that he had barely noticed it before, and it was pretty too - set with purple gemstones and shimmering silver beads. The outfit he wore was way too fancy for his tastes, he already knew that, and absolutely not suited to trekking through the forest at all. He was wearing a royal purple sash. 

“Am I supposed to be some kind of Prince?” Virgil complained, huffing and tugging at the sash. His outfit looked a little like Roman’s, but black with silver and purple accents rather than white with red and gold. It was also a little more elaborate, with silver embroidery and a collar that circled up to his neck. His boots came up to his knees and his pants were loose and baggy - at least that was decent. This outfit was horrifically impractical for the setting he had been thrust into. Usually on these quests he ended up as some kind of rogue or archer - not a Prince - that was usually Roman’s role, if they were feeling it, or princess, if they were feeling that instead. Regardless, ‘Royalty’ wasn’t Virgil’s role, he didn’t like it. Suddenly he felt like he had a whole lot of pressure on him. 

All he could do now, though, was to keep moving towards the distant sounds of thunder. 

—

Eventually, Virgil emerged from the forest after what felt like hours on hours of walking, though really it mustn’t have been that long. From the forest he came onto a cliff face, the drop must be hundreds of feet and a sick feeling pooled in Virgil’s stomach when he looked down. Looking back he could see that this forest spanned for miles, and behind him the cliffs continued upward to form a steep, rocky mountain. 

This place seemed just as treacherous as the forest did for a whole host of different reasons, but at least here he could see into the distance - and what he saw was a single tower surrounded by a dark sky full of storm clouds, lightning crashing and thunder rumbling.

He guessed that was his destination. Great. 

If he died, he was going to kill Roman.

At the very least, the tower had given him a little more of a clue as to what the story he was supposed to be a part of was about. That didn’t mean he liked it any more.

So he was a prince rescuing a damsel in distress - a princess locked in a tower, or something. The typical cliche.

“Hello dearie!”

Virgil screamed, turning and pointing his sword at the little old lady who had just materialised on the goddamn path out of fucking nowhere. He had almost stabbed her right in the face. 

“Who the hell are you?” Virgil asked, he could admit he had panicked a little - he wasn’t normally the type to scream at old ladies. 

“Now now dearie, it’s all okay, don’t fret so! I’m your guide!” She said brightly, Virgil stared, dumbfounded.

“Well I know where I’m going now,” he huffed, “You couldn’t’ve poofed into existence back when I was lost in that stupid forest?”

“I’m afraid Their Grace is… having a tad bit of trouble,” The old lady admitted as she took Virgil’s hand and hobbled resiliently up the rocky path. Goddamn, this lady was strong.

“Trouble with what?” Virgil asked, following though he was unhappy about it, “Roman never has trouble with this kinda stuff!”

“Trouble holding the fairytale together for you, dear, but it’s what they need right now.”

“Cryptic much?”

“You’ll understand in time,” She said, typical old-lady-in-a-story to not actually tell him shit. Virgil grumbled, but eventually fell quiet too as they continued to approach the distant tower that slowly became not so distant.

—

The old woman left when they arrived at the foot of the tower, wishing him good luck as he headed in. 

It turned out that the tower itself wasn’t that special, with just a set of spiral stairs inside leading up. 

Looking back, none of this journey had actually been hard - well, perhaps the deadly plants in the forest had been annoying - nothing had been impossible or even all that difficult to defeat. 

The worst thing he’d had to face today, thinking realistically, was the stairs in this tower. By the time he finally reached the top of them he was exhausted, and not to mention worried about Roman. What had that old lady meant? What if Roman was hurt?

When Virgil finally gets to the top of the tower he expects to find Roman. 

What he did not expect was to find Roman huddled up on themself in the corner, dressed in an extravagant ball gown and tiara but looking practically miserable. Immediately, of course, Virgil went over to them, crouching down and reaching for them. Roman quickly took his hand in both of their gloved ones. When they looked up it was clear that they had been crying. All of his frustration at the quest melted away at the look of pure relief on Roman’s face. 

“Hello, your majesty,” Virgil says softly, with just the hint of a tease, reaching with his other hand to cup Roman’s cheek, “I believe I’ve been sent to rescue you?”

“I’m sorry, stormcloud,” Roman said quietly, voice smaller than Virgil would like it, “I didn’t mean to rope you into all this I- I couldn’t project properly - I meant to bring you closer to the tower - just- I- I didn’t want any of the others so I had to-”

“Hey, hey, shhh Princey, it’s okay,” Virgil said, rubbing Roman’s cheek back and forth with his thumb, “It’s okay, what’s wrong? What's got you in such a sorry state?”

“I- I couldn’t decide what to wear to Remus’ ball…” Roman admitted, looking down. For a moment, Virgil considered saying something along the lines of “Is that all?” but he bit his tongue. He knew how important presentation was to Roman. 

“And you got upset?” Virgil asked, Roman nodded, “Can you tell me exactly what it was about it that upset you?”

“I…” Roman said, before stopping themself, “I couldn’t decide whether to wear a dress or a suit - and - and so I tried both on and- neither felt right and I- I didn’t know what to do-”

Virgil could see the tears building up in Roman’s eyes, so he gently squeezed Roman’s hand. 

“Okay,” Virgil said softly, “Can you end the daydream, my love?” he asked, “I’d like you to snap us into some comfy clothes, if that’s alright? Pajamas - or a hoodie or something, whatever you feel most like wearing right now.”

It took a decent amount of time and concentration, but eventually the quest setting faded, leaving them in a lush room in Roman’s palace instead, the one that sat at the centre of the imagination. Best of all, though, Virgil was back into his hoodie. With a snap, Roman wore an oversized sweater along with a skirt and knee-high socks, Virgil coo-ed.

“Pronouns, love?” he asked, tilting his head. 

“They/them, I think, it’s kinda fuzzy right now,” Roman admitted, looking down. Virgil nodded and scooped Roman up - earning a yelp in surprise - and carried them over to the large bed. Putting them down and climbing up after them earned him a confused hum as Virgil pulled Roman into a hug. Resting his lovely Royal against his chest and combing his fingers through their hair. 

“So…” Virgil said eventually, “What’s bothering you so much about the clothes, then? It’s not that Remus’ll care, right? We both know he won't.”

“No- no it’s not that,” Roman mumbled against his chest. Virgil kissed the top of his head, “It’s… I don’t know, both just felt - wrong, too - too gender, both outfits.”

“Ahh, I see,” Virgil said softly. So Roman didn’t want to dress masculine or feminine - Virgil sighed, trying to wrack his brain for a solution. Eventually he came up with one.

“What about-” he paused, “Hm- I saw this thing on the internet a while ago where it’s like - some kind of formal jumpsuit thing that has pants that kinda look like a skirt? Do you think something like that might work?”

For a long moment, Roman seemed to be lost in thought, before humming, “Oh that - that could maybe work…”

Roman stood up and Virgil moved to the side of the bed to watch as Roman snapped themself into a red and white jumpsuit. The jumpsuit had no sleeves and a high collar with a cape-like section attached to the waist that looked like a skirt when they stood still, but when they walked showed that they were actually wearing pants instead. They looked delighted. 

“Oh you look great, Ro,” Virgil said happily, “Does it feel okay?”

“Y- yeah actually - this feels… perfect,” Roman said softly, “Thank you, my dearest stormcloud… are you sure it looks okay?”

“Well duh -” Virgil rolled his eyes, “Now - we should head to the ball before it doesn’t matter what we wear - because he’ll kill us.”

“Oh but what about you? You can’t go dressed like that!” Roman protested, rushing over and brushing down Virgil’s hoodie. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Damn - thought I might get away with that,” He joked, “Uh - I mean, that prince costume from earlier wasn’t actually that bad…”

“Your wish is my command!” Roman cheered, leaning forward and giving him a kiss. When he pulled away, Virgil’s clothes had changed back to the costume he had been wearing before, “You shall go to the ball, my sweet Prince.”

Roman kissed the back of his hand and Virgil blushed bright pink, making a string of incoherent sounds before finally ending up on “That’s - that’s not how this works! You can’t do that!”

“I think I very well can,” Roman said with a smirk, “Come, lets go, we wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?”

“That’s what I- oh nevermind…”

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierreblogs @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 ( if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[that1emowitch]

Suit Shopping pt. 2

Part 2 of this

A/N: Kinda to the short side but still

Words: 1277

TW: None, I think. It's all pretty fluffy. Lmk if I missed smth

The tension crackles in the air as the Batfamily stands awkwardly before Dick in the grand foyer of Wayne Manor. Two days since their mall adventure, the moment of truth arrives. Cass and Duke hold a large garment bag proudly between them, while Steph, Jason, Tim, and Damian each clutch separate bags, their faces etched with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Dick, in a simple t-shirt and jeans, stands in the center, a hesitant smile plastered on his face. "Alright, alright," he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's see what you amazing people have come up with for my wedding suit."

Steph, ever the impulsive one, can't contain her excitement. "We'll go first!" she declares, darting forward before anyone else can react. With a dramatic flourish, she yanks the garment bag open, revealing a suit that can only be described as... exuberant. A vibrant purple screams royalty in the wrong carnival. Sequins shimmer across the fabric, catching the light like a disco ball in a bad dream. Tiny, glittery bat wings sprout from the shoulders, adding an extra layer of questionable taste.

Dick coughs, trying to hide a wince. "Uh, Steph... it's certainly... unique."

"Wait—" Jason jumps away from the suit. "That's not the suit we bought!"

Steph's smile falters slightly, but she recovers quickly. "Exactly! Now Dick will be the most dazzling groom Gotham has ever seen!"

"But— What'd you do to our suit?!" Jason scoffs, betrayal clear in his eyes. "Blondie, you are expelled from Dead Robins Club."

Tim, unable to hold back a snort, steps forward. He unzips his bag with a flourish, revealing a sleek, black suit. Red accents run down the sides, and a subtle bat symbol is embroidered on the chest. It's a classic, cool design, a clear nod to Dick's Nightwing persona.

"This is more your style, right?" Tim asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dick nods, a genuine smile breaking out this time. "Definitely a contender."

Damian, ever practical, approaches next. He reveals a simple, tailored blue suit. It's elegant and well-made, the kind Bruce might wear on a more formal business occasion. "This is a timeless classic," Damian states, his voice devoid of his usual sarcasm. "It would be appropriate for any setting."

Jason, ever the drama king, scoffs. "Please, Demon brat. Dickwing deserves something more... modern. Wait one sec while I find what Blondie here has done to the suit he picked." He runs upstairs quickly, then comes back with a bag, showcasing a suit that looks like it belongs on the set of a futuristic space opera. It's a Nightwing blue, with metallic silver accents that seem to glow in the dim light.

Dick whistles. "Wow, Little Wing. Record time for that run."

Damian humphs. "But mine is more practical. Durable enough for any rogue attack, yet stylish enough to turn heads."

Last but not least, Duke and Cass step forward, holding their mysterious bag together. "We designed a suit based on your Nightwing colors," Duke explains. He carefully unzips the bag, and Cass pulls out a suit that leaves Dick speechless.

It's a masterpiece. Made from a midnight blue fabric that shimmers with a subtle sheen, the suit incorporates sleek black accents that run along the sides and down the arms. Designs of a starry night, intricate and beautiful, run across the entire fabric. But the true genius is in the details - a subtle hidden compartment on the arm for Dick's communicators, a flexible construction that allows for ease of movement, and a subtle lining that feels light and cool against the skin.

Dick stares at the suit, a wave of emotion washing over him. It's perfect. More than just a suit, it's a symbol of his journey, a blend of his past and future.

"Wow," Dick finally breathes. "This... this is incredible. Thank you, guys." He looks at each of his siblings, his heart full of gratitude. "Every single one of you came up with something amazing. I honestly can't choose."

Then his eyes light up. "I know! I'll call Wally! Everyone get out of the room, him and I will choose, then I'll announce which suit I'm picking."

A collective groan rises from the bats.  

"Seriously, Dick?" Tim grumbles, already turning towards the exit. "You're letting your fiance be the tiebreaker?”

"Hey!" A voice called from the doorway before they can escape. Wally West, the Flash, in standing there, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "I got your text. What's the big decision?"

Dick sheepishly explains the situation, gesturing to the remaining garment bags. Wally whistled, his grin widening.  

"Alright, alright," Wally says, holding up his hands. "Let's see what we're working with."  He darts around the room, examining each suit with the practiced eye of a seasoned shopper – or maybe a seasoned costume designer, considering his own flashy getup. 

Steph puffs out her chest as he reaches her mangled creation. "So, what do you think? Pretty dazzling, right?"

Wally's eyes widen comically. "Uh, Steph, that's… Not gonna lie, certainly a statement piece. Take this from the guy people say used to be dressed like mustard." 

He moves on, offering polite praise for Tim’s practical design, a raised eyebrow at Damian’s classic choice, and a snort at Jason’s space opera-inspired suit.  Finally, he reaches Duke and Cass' masterpiece. 

He falls silent for a moment, examining the suit with a thoughtful frown.  Then, a slow smile spreads across his face.  

"Wow, this is incredible," He breathes, tracing the intricate starry night design. "It's perfect, Dick. It's you, it's Nightwing, it's everything. You’re gonna look so hot."

Dick grins, a blush washing over him.   "You really think so?"

Wally winks. "Absolutely.  Besides, can you imagine Bruce's face if you showed up in a sparkly purple suit with bat wings?"

The room erupts in laughter, the tension dissolving almost completely.  Dick claps his hands, gathering everyone's attention.

"Alright, alright," He announces. "Looks like we have a winner. Thanks to everyone for putting so much thought into this. It means a lot."

He gestures towards Duke and Cass.  "And for the two of you… seriously, amazing work.  This suit is incredible."

Cass gives a small, satisfied nod, while Duke beams.  The rest of the Batfamily offers their congratulations, the competitive spirit replaced by genuine camaraderie, though a few glares are exchanged.  

"So," Wally says, slinging an arm around Dick's shoulder and pressing a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Ready to pick out a wedding band that's just as awesome?”

Dick chuckles.  "Maybe we can skip the family vote on that one."

.

.

. 

As soon as Dick and Wally speed out of the room, Jason, Steph, Tim, and Damian turn to Duke and Cass, glaring.

The pair in question only wear a smug grin. Cass holds out her palm, and Duke teases, “Pay your debt, losers.”

Grumbling, Jason presses a fifty-dollar bill into Cass’s hand, glaring daggers at the two. “I used to like you two. No more pancakes for you, and no showing up uninvited at my apartment. Got that?”

Duke’s grin only falters slightly— no pancakes?— but Cass steps on Jason’s foot before he storms off with an “OW!”  to make it even.

Tim pays his loser’s fee with only a slight frown, probably too sleep-deprived to care. Steph tries to give Cass a kiss instead of money, but Cass is too headstrong to fall for that. 

Damian huffs and promised Duke he’d get revenge, in the most haughty and powerful voice a pre-teen could possibly muster. Duke tries so hard not to laugh, but fails, leaving the baby demon to stomp out of the room.

This competition was perfect. Duke knew they’d win.

[athena-xox]

Eah backgrounder headcanons

Orange haired girl

Penelope Pea

She attends muse-ic class and she is very friendly with lots of backgrounders, mainly the girls. The wiki says she voted for Maddie in the election but I went back and watched and she only appears once in the hallway talking with her friends while Maddie is campaigning. I don’t think that proves that she voted for Maddie. She also, of course, is one of the background girls who constantly fawns over Daring. She’s actually so pretty.

She’s often seen with grey hair girl so much.

She can also often be spotted with background pink and purple hair girl

The three of them are a trio and in basically every hallway scene you can see them chatting in the background (I’m taking it as they’re besties and not just reused animation)

She is also seen with princess wearing blue and white, although not as often

Other people she’s hung out with:

My headcannons for her. None of these are really based on fact but they aren’t outlandish and they’re pretty likely.

She’s a Royal. Daughter of the princess and the pea. She has a transatlantic accent. Or at least a vaguely British accent. She doesn’t have perfect princess hair, she spends an hour each morning taming it since it’s naturally frizzy.

My headcannon is that she was originally supposed to be roommates with Duchess but since Apple switched rooms it set of a domino effect and she ended up getting roomed with blue and gold girl.

Her grey haired girl and pink & purple haired girl had been BFFA’s since their freshman year. Pink & purple haired girl is a rebel, grey haired girl is somewhere in the middle, but they don’t let conflicting views affect their friendship.

I think that her personality would be similar to most royals in personality, mainly to Holly. Speaking of Holly I think that Pen would definitely be reading Hollys fanfics.

She doesn’t know who her fairytale prince is but she knows that it probably isn’t a Charming. It’s most likely a second or third son.

But until then she has a little bit of romance

(This is canon) during true hearts day silver crown boy enters with blue and gold girl (the girl who I hc to be Penelopes roommate, she’s the one sprawled on the stairs in the sixth picture and on the end of Penelope and grey haired girl fawning over Daring) but during the dance Penelope and silver crown boy start hanging out and and the end of the night (the picture shown) they leave together. And then they are always shown together as a couple.

Silver crown boy (I might make a post on him later) is a rebel, he cheers for raven during legacy day and is seated on Maddies side for the election. I think they’re very cute… until they’re not

THATS RIGHT. FUCKING GREY HAIRED GIRL, HER BESTIE STOLE HER BF. Istg I was not expecting to find this kind of blatant drama. But she’s chatting him up during ‘Cupid makes things right… kinda’ and Penelope is no where to be seen. And then in that one really random Courtly redemption episode we see them at the theatre together. And then they’re cuddling during raven and dexters date. And you know what the worst part is?

Penelope is NEVER seen with grey haired girl again or silver brown boy again. And most of the times we see her after the breakup she’s all alone. Like all of her other friends took grey haired girls side.

This poor poor girl, I don’t know if I even want to make a post now for grey haired girl (I’m planning on doing as many as I can) like she just doesn’t deserve it.

In my perfect world she goes to Cupid for relationship troubles because yk her best friend stole her man and all her friends and Cupid consoled her and now (post canon) Penny ditched her old friends and is a part of the main characters.

Ps: I plan to make posts like this for all the background characters that I like/have hcs for. If anyone has any different hcs for orange haired girl please share. Or any other character. Or if you have a background character you want me to make a video on.

Pps: if you haven’t seen my earlier post I have a page in my notes app just full of everytime a backgrounder shows up so I can track the drama like that

Ppps: it’s not exactly in chronological order it’s like all the stuff on Netflix in order (or like mostly in order) and then all the webisodes even if they go in between so the whole love triangle might not be accurate.

Pppps (god I should have thought this through too many P’s): all the characters besides Penelope are being referred to by the name that the Royal/Rebel wiki has given them

[calicohyde]

The light in the room is pink. Ferris's cat eyes see it mostly as a sort of rosy gray, but he recognizes the giant salt lamp stretching all across the mantle and remembers the hue from his past as a human, with color-sensitive rods and cones and all. The women sitting in their typical circle in the center of the room appear to Ferris in tinted shades of gray as well. There are thirteen of them. A… volatile number.

It's the usual number. The nine crones of the Shaw coven are hosting four crones from the Bellefontaine coven, their neighbor to the West. It's always arranged for a meeting like this that the total attendees will come to thirteen. The witches think it's a lucky number. Ferris doesn't believe in luck, personally, not to mention that if he did he wouldn't foolishly assume "lucky" could only mean the good kind. 

Where the Bellefontaine coven is concerned that's all irrelevant anyway. They only have the four crones to send. They pride themselves on being exclusive, not that it does them any favors magic wise, for Ferris's money. He figures they're mostly just rich and they only like other flush types. But he also figures that's their business. It's not like he has to live with them.

As is also usual, in the West corner of the room there is a crystal bowl of rainwater set out by the Shaw witches to honor the Bellefontaine, and in the South corner a sputtering red pillar candle brought along by the Bellefontaines from their own coven house to honor their gracious hosts. The rest of the circle is cast only with the women's bodies in their rearranged and mismatching chairs, informal.

The atmosphere that's meant to achieve would probably be a little easier to reach if anyone at the meeting was actually friendly.

Ferris is mostly ignoring them all. They're arguing over which coven the Creve Coeur lake belongs to (as if a lake could belong to anyone), and it mostly just strikes him as whiny posturing. It's a whole ass body of water; there's no reason they can't share it, aside from their own fragile egos. Humans are such babies.

"As a Southern coven you hardly need access to that volume of natural water to do your spellwork," one of the Bellefontaine crones is insisting. Her name is Camille Fay, and her tone is less than diplomatic. She's the youngest crone of her coven at fifty-eight, but she still acts like she's the wisest damn person on the whole of the earth. Ferris hates every fiber of her being, from her silvering blonde hair down to her sensible flats. Usually he doesn't get to express that feeling much. Happily for him, his job tonight is to have an opinion. For once he'll be able to let his mistress know all about it.

"On the contrary," a Shaw crone, Nubia, responds. Her voice is quiet and calm but as unyielding as steel. That's how her whole personality is, as far as Ferris has ever been able to tell. He knows her a little better than he might if only Nine, her snooty familiar, wasn't always getting on his furry ass. "The element doesn't come as easily to us as our own. We can gain more from the resource than you."

"Sisters, please," interrupts Breanne, another Shaw crone. Her voice is croaky with both accent and age. She's the eldest crone in attendance. Ferris doesn't even know how old she is, but from the way her aura fills rooms he'd guess probably old enough that none of his little magic tricks work on her anymore. He's not daft enough to try asking her. "The simplest course is to share the lake. It's already split by the borders of our covens, we might as well just keep it that way."

"Please forgive us, Crone Clearly. You must understand why we wouldn't want to share magical space with…" Camille pauses, pursing her lips in the most contrived thoughtful moue Ferris has ever seen. He's glad he can't see the shade of her lipstick, or he'd probably be put off the color for the rest of his lives. Finally Camille finishes her sentence, her tone making it obvious that she'd rather use a much less politically correct word. "Clairvoyants."

"No," Breanne replies, harder now than Nubia has ever been. She's right to be. Ferris comes from a time long before Camille's, and he even knows that all the dogshit everyone says about clairvoyants is just that - dogshit. He knows it now, and he damn well knew it back then too. "I'm afraid we can't understand that at all." She leaves it at that and Ferris sniffs. If he were in charge here, he would have cast a little something special to bring the point home.

Instead of backing up her superior, Nubia coolly tells Camille, "We don't have any clairvoyants in our coven," as if Breanne had never spoken.

There's a long silence. The air in the room chills and the salt lamp flickers briefly in an effort to stay on in the sudden onset of negativity. Breanne's aura darkens noticeably, though she - too mercifully, in Ferris's opinion - refrains from reproaching Nubia in front of their guests. Ferris shivers at the feeling of her anger, but he has his own rage to contend with too. The Shaw coven does have clairvoyants in it - two of them, and it would have another if Nubia and her likeminds hadn't practically hanged the third themselves!

"The Shaw coven proposes that we maintain the current borders, and share the lake," Breanne says officiously, holding her anger behind her teeth with long-practiced skill (a skill Ferris himself has never learned and doesn't have any plans to, though he supposes it's respectable enough in her case). "Let's convene a moment to discuss the motion privately."

The mood lifts, barely, as all thirteen witches rise. Tradition and decorum dictate that they all present some level of camaraderie to each other as neighbors regardless of their disagreements. Of course, craftism isn't what Ferris would call a disagreement, but he's only been around for a century so what could he possibly know about anything.

Ferris ignores the shitty atmosphere and the bad taste in his mouth at great cost to his patience, not that he ever has much of that to start with. It's amazing the shit he has to put up with in this being-a-familiar biz. Sometimes it can get hard for him to remember what fucking year it is, when living people still manage to think so backwards.

Whatever. It's like he said; at least he doesn't have to live with them. With her. If he had been reborn Camille's familiar he thinks he might have gone into the regular cat life instead, power and extra lives be damned. As it is, he has a mistress who fits his sensibilities much better, thank the Gods. If only she'd quit giving him such tedious jobs.

Ferris waits impatiently by the heavy double doors as the Bellefontaine crones kiss cheeks and exchange brief, disingenuous pleasantries with the Shaw crones. He knows his pale orange fur makes a stark contrast against the backdrop of shiny dark wood, but unfortunately that flare will be lost on the Bellefontaine witches. Ferris carries some of his mistress's power with him when he does her work. He can't be seen unless he makes a particular point of it. 

The four Bellefontaine witches file over and exit the pink-glowing room in a line, with Camille leading the way. Ferris follows them out, careful to keep his tail out of the way of the closing door.

Ferris watches in silence - and boredom - as the witches discuss Breanne's movement to share the lake. One crone thinks it fair, one is indifferent. The eldest Bellefontaine crone - Justine or Josefine or something, Ferris doesn't remember or care - hears them both out without showing any reaction. Camille watches her with a sour look, her gaze pointed.

"Speak, Crone Fay," the elder says eventually. "You obviously have a strong opinion." Camille draws herself up to her full height, taller than her fellows by virtue of her relative youth, and steps forward. It's easy to tell she hasn't been listening to her coven sisters, only waiting for their turn to speak to be over.

"I am extremely hesitant to share my magical space and resources with them," she sneers. Ferris's hackles rise, but he manages to stop himself short of acting. "They'll taint the purity of the natural water! It's only a fact, Crone Sommer, you know the history. They spread their magic sickness everywhere they go. If they go to the lake, we won't be able to. Not safely. How is that fair, when it's ours to begin with?"

Ferris pants through his mouth, trying to avoid the tar-like scent of Camille's self righteousness. If there's any grace among the Bellefontaine coven, Sommer will shut down Camille's dogshit. The eldest are meant to be the wisest, after all. Surely she must know the "history" Camille referred to is a long legacy of widespread slander, at a generous description.

Sommer sighs. "We have to function within these new times, Crone Fay," she murmurs. "Our sisters in the Shaw coven won't welcome us to the resources inside their borders if we refuse to grant them access to ours."

Ferris's teeth itch. So much for growing with age. Not to mention that as Breanne pointed out, only half of the Creve Coeur lake is inside the Bellefontaine borders as they stand.

"Fine," Camille snaps. She folds her arms. Ferris is shocked she doesn't stomp her foot too. Gods almighty. "A compromise then. We can share the lake with the Shaw coven, as long as the sixers don't muddy it. It shouldn't be a problem since they said they aren't part of the coven anyway. And if we catch them causing trouble, we should be permitted to step in."

The fur along Ferris's spine stands on end, his skin underneath it crawling with revulsion. His teeth hurt now, with the urge to retaliate. That might just be a word nowadays, might have been just a word for as long as Camille Fay has known it, but when Ferris was living his first life people said that when they were locking clairvoyants up in old houses and leaving them there to wither away into hauntings. It hasn't even been a decade since the taboo passed against abandoning clairvoyants to the 'treatment' inflicted on them by non-witches - and that's the word people use when they break it.

"There's no need for crass language," says the witch who had first supported Breanne's movement. It's not really a reprimand; her tone is light, and 'crass'? That hardly even begins to cover it.

"Language aside," Sommer says, and she's smiling. Ferris holds in a hiss, letting the guttural thing squirm in the back of his throat and make him gag rather than alert these repulsive women to his presence. "Your compromise sounds perfectly reasonable to me."

Ferris doesn't bother to follow again when the Bellefontaine witches return to the pink-lit meeting room. He knows well enough already that the Shaw crones will agree to their so-called compromise, treading all over the already trodden clairvoyants supposedly under their cloak. Nubia isn't the only one on the Tier with craftist ideals, and even Breanne can't overrule a majority choice. Maybe if they'd heard what Camille had said things would be different, but they hadn't and it's not within Ferris's abilities to tell them about it.

The meeting is over in a matter of minutes and Camille is the one to lead the Bellefontaine crones out the dark double doors again, the extinguished red pillar candle cradled in her hands.

"You don't think any of us will see one of the clairvoyants in our park, do you?" one of her peers asks her.

"Don't worry, sister," Camille says, sounding almost eager. "I know exactly what to do to those motherless things if we do see one."

The lights all go out with a crack. Ferris slinks away in the sudden darkness. He didn't mean to do that, but it serves them all right. He hopes every one of them bumps into something sharp.

Hours pass and Ferris still seethes. He knows Fred and Eddie - the clairvoyants in question - are both grown-ups who can take care of themselves, but to him they're still just kittens. And regardless, the Alfaro siblings are only the clairvoyants in question this time. Who knows what Camille Fay has planned for them or who else she might set her malevolent sights on.

The pads of his paws leave smears in old incense dust as Ferris paces back and forth across his mistress's window sill altar. She doesn't do much magic during the day, her temperament much more suited to the sleeker energy of the moonlight, so she isn't here to see him ruminate. She's probably just gone to bed, a few rooms away. The ash Ferris kicks up swirls around in sparkling motes in the early dawn light leaking through the glass pane. He can't bring himself to appreciate the beauty of it when all he can think about is the hideous rot living barely thirty miles away.

Camille Fay, and the rest of her elitist coven, are not the only craftists in St. Louis. Not by far. Even the Shaw coven, arguably the second most progressive St. Louisan coven is filled to the brim with them, though none quite so blatant. But Ferris can't do anything about all of them. He feels so Gods-damned helpless against the insidiousness of it sometimes he could just explode. The fucking hypocrites will go on and on about the clairvoyant "sickness" when they're the ones spreading their awful spiritual rot. Ferris can feel it in his fur sometimes, trying to sink into him and erode his power. It's no wonder craftists feel weaker around clairvoyants. The irony is that they only have themselves to blame.

There's no telling them that though. Ferris has no voice, except to other cats, and people like that would hardly find him worth listening to even if he could speak. He swipes a paw at the array of crystals lined up along the wide sill in frustration, knocking some amethyst and lepidolite onto the carpeted floor with two muted thunks.

He can't stay here, pacing and fuming, going stagnant and bitter. Ferris's mistress has him watching this and keeping an eye on that, and he acts on nothing. He doesn't generally have a proactive kind of personality (less go-with-the-flow and more stay-right-here), but for once in all three of his lives Ferris simply can't stand to sit still. If Camille decides to act on her implicit threat, running home to tattle on her just isn't going to cut it. Not this time.

Ferris leaps down from the window altar, unintentionally taking a piece of labradorite with him. He pauses, considering waking his mistress up to let her know, but discards the thought. He doubts she'd support him taking any kind of direct action, nevermind the kind he's starting to warm up to right now. He's not in the mood to be stopped.

Soft paws avoid the creaky parts of the stairs with expert ease as Ferris makes his way toward the front door. Witches always want to have mysterious comings and goings, so it's used less than the back door is. Even if he's not the only one awake Ferris is less likely to be intercepted if he goes out this way. 

There's a narrow window that is always left open in the entryway, because as a general rule familiars like Ferris do not take too kindly to using cat flaps. He leaps lightly up onto the pillar table, onto the sill, and out into the rapidly rewarming air of the city.

Ferris doesn't set off straight away. He sits in the middle of the sidewalk, looking off into the West. His tail sweeps back and forth behind him, brushing aside the soft green leaves that fell from the maple in the yard overnight. Camille Fay and the rest of her coven will have arrived back at their coven house several hours ago. They're probably all asleep. And what with their all too obvious opinions about clairvoyants, there's very little chance any of them know he's coming. Even if someone tried to warn them, and even if they believed that person, there's no chance in hell they would expect Ferris to actually arrive this morning.

The Shaw coven house, where last night's meeting took place, is in South St. Louis (hence the burning candle, fire, to honor them). The Bellefontaines are in the West; rich bitch water witches. Their coven house is all the way out in Ballwin. That's over thirty miles, and a very long distance to go on four paws.

At least it would be, for anything on four paws other than Ferris.

In his first life Ferris was a tectonist, an earth mover. He couldn't take all of his abilities with him into reincarnation, but familiars retain just a touch of what made them powerful as a human, twisted around to be useful as a soul companion to a living witch. Ferris doesn't know how it all works exactly, and he doesn't care, he's just glad he doesn't have to walk everywhere like- Well, like an animal. 

Ferris's old powers have translated into a sort of… distance warping. For every step over land that Ferris takes, he can travel many more. It's not really that much less work, but at least it's quicker.

So Ferris sits, and he stares off into the West towards the Bellefontaine coven house thirty miles away, sweeping his tail back and forth, and he gathers his power. His mistress will probably feel him using it, but it's like he said: she has him running around all over the place spying on people, so with any luck she'll just assume he's finally taken some initiative. It's like taking a deep breath, pulling his magic around him. He feels it mainly as a strength in his heart and a warmth in his paws. When he feels fortified enough, Ferris stands and takes a step.

The smell of warm bread fills Ferris's nose as he passes by Vitale's Bakery in The Hill, getting ready to open. Another step and the fountain in the Clifton Heights park babbles in his ears. He moves on past the university, through the sculpture park, the conservation area, and circles around a little to avoid that last Starbucks which no doubt will be teaming with people now that the sun has fully risen. Fuck if he knows what day of the week it is, but he's not willing to risk getting trampled in a before-work coffee rush.

Ferris takes smaller steps through the Bellefontaines' neighborhood, until finally he's walking without magical enhancement, squinting in the bright sunlight at every ostentatious manor house he passes. He'll know the one the coven lives in without any trouble, even though he's never been here before. Even folks without any witchy gifts can tell a coven house when they see one; they're so lousy with magic there's no way not to notice something. It just happens that Ferris figures everyone else on this street probably deserves a good hard stare from an unfamiliar and suspiciously focused cat first thing in the morning.

When he finally reaches the looming monstrosity that is the Bellefontaine coven house, Ferris has worked himself back up into a frothing tizzy. The coven house looms up above the street, a mansion among manors. The siding is too-pristine white, the shutters a too-deep blue, all the windows delicately frosted. It's framed on either side by trees that are fuller and lusher than any plant in their neighbors' yards. The front walk is long and lined on both sides with lamb's ear, and on the open brick porch are huge pots of aromatic mint. The tarry smear of hateful magic can't be contained by its walls; Ferris can feel it dirtying him from here. He sneers, showing his long bicuspids underneath a curled lip.

Camille's threat echoes in Ferris's mind. She knows 'what to do' with clairvoyants, huh? Well Ferris knows what to do with craftists, how 'bout that.

Ferris trots up the walk, still just as unconcerned with being seen as he was listening in on the Bellefontaine crones' conversation last night. He peers up at the house again from between the mint bushes on the porch, checking one window and then the other to see which one is open. When he spots it, Ferris lifts himself up onto the lip of the left mint pot and then springs onto the sill. Another familiar is sitting there on the inside, a Siamese. She maiows questioningly at him, but she doesn't smell or feel like Camille so he ignores her.

The indoor sill is actually a platform, covered by a plush velvet purple cushion with bright white trim and tassels. It's just as ostentatious as the exterior of the house. There must be some kind of spell on it to keep it from getting covered in fur. Wasteful. Ferris doesn't doubt the rest of the decor here will match. He resolves to pay as little attention as possible.

Camille's room is as easy to find as the coven house was; the way Ferris can feel her magic leaking out around the slightly ajar door is like standing next to an open sewer when the city is at its hottest and most humid. Ferris paws down his revulsion and enters.

The exact bedroom he'd expect from a well-off water witch is what greets Ferris on the other side of the door. The floor is covered wall to wall with deeply plush, pale carpet. The bed, a queen, is by the double windows, which are dressed on either side with sheer white curtains and have prisms hanging all across. There are several high bookshelves filled with crumbling old tomes, each topped by a thriving water plant with their roots all on display in their clear crystal vases. Camille is at the dresser, dark heavy wood and a huge vanity mirror, digging through the top drawer.

Ferris sits just inside and watches her. Impulse and rage carried him all the way here, and the latter hasn't died down one bit from arriving. Camille is dangerous, evil, a fast acting poison to the city that Ferris loves. But Ferris is only barely more than a cat. He can't threaten her, and if he did it would be taken as from his mistress, and a bribe is just the same. Both options are beyond Ferris's abilities, and unreliable besides. Ferris wants his city to be safe - he needs it to be. He's spent over a century here and he knows every last corner of it, as constantly changing as it is. He knows its spirit.

Camille Fay is nothing special. Not unusual, no anomaly. She has always been here, and she is everywhere. But all the same, she does not belong.

Ferris makes his way to the top of one of Camille's bookshelves in three bounds, curling his body around behind the water plant on top. It's a tight fit, he's quite fat, but he ignores the squeeze in favor of watching Camille from his new vantage point. She hums to herself as she opens the miniature boudoir thing atop the dresser to select the day's jewels. He hates her. She has to go. She chooses diamonds set in gold: earrings that stretch her lobes with their weight, a necklace just shy of gaudy, and a ring nearly as big as the prisms in the window. She turns her head back and forth to catch and reflect the light, giving herself a smug look in the mirror.

Ferris holds back a snort. Oh, but isn't Camille Fay simply the finest specimen on earth? Surely only the most gold- and furs-laden mourners will be allowed at her funeral. Ferris can't wait to not show.

Of course, that would be in poor taste even if he were properly dressed. Since he's going to murder her and all.

Yes, he's finally decided on it fully. He's prepared to follow through. It's not like he's never killed or caused death before, in this life and in the lives previous. Truly it's a favor anyway. To the Bellefontaine coven. Three crones is certainly a better number than four, and Camille is very rude besides. It's not that Camille deserves to die necessarily, though the argument could easily be made, but more that everyone else deserves to live without her. Ferris can only imagine what would happen were Camille Fay to become the Bellefontaines' senior crone and then for a clairvoyant to be born in West County. Best to remove her before anyone has to find out.

Camille stands up from her vanity and moves away into the walk in closet on the other side of the room. Ferris stays sunk down behind the water plant on top of the bookshelf and contemplates what's available to him. Without thumbs it's very difficult for him to wield any weapons. He shifts restlessly, looking around the room for something opportune, and the crystal vase of the water plant scrapes heavily on the shelf top when he accidentally nudges it. He pauses in his perusal of the room, turning his attention to the plant instead. He nudges it purposefully now and it scrapes along, closer to the edge of the shelf.

Perfect.

Camille comes back out of the closet, pausing at the doorway to slip her feet into the gold flats she's chosen for the day. Ferris watches her now with the eyes of a hunter. He can feel his energy building up in his hind legs as if to pounce, though he knows in this case he'll be doing no such thing. Camille ambles closer, slipping a woven jacket over her shoulders. Ferris rotates his shoulders. Closer. Come closer.

Idly, Camille browses her shelves as she applies her lipstick (another subtle color that Ferris can't quite see). She smiles the same smug smile at some of the titles that she did at her diamonds. Does she even read them? Probably not unless someone impressionable is watching. Ferris hopes the books will go to the coven and all the young witches will get to read them, once he's done his deed. Camille comes ever closer.

Finally Camille is just beneath him, and Ferris stands abruptly, throwing his weight against the backside of the water plant. It makes a horrendous scrape against the wood as it moves, and Camille looks up to see it tip towards her head.

It's then that Ferris lets her see him. Just so that she knows, in her final moments, that she is the one to have been dealt with.

Her eyes focus on him, wide, as she gasps, and then the water plant in its heavy crystal vase hits her with a muted crunch. Camille and her plant topple to the floor. Water from the vase sinks into the plush carpet. Moments later, it's joined by blood from Camille's head. Ferris watches it spread for a moment, vibrant enough against its pale surroundings for him to see its redness. He disappears himself back into magically assured unobrustiveness when he hears footsteps rushing near.

There are exclamations of the names of various Gods as the young witches who crowd inside see Camille's body on the floor. As the eldest of the group sends the youngest off to collect the crones Ferris slips, perfectly unnoticed, back out the door, down the stairs, and to the open entryway window.

"You're welcome," he rumbles to the Siamese familiar, now standing and looking up towards the commotion. She turns her blue eyes to watch him curiously as he leaps back down into the mint pot on the porch, and leaves her coven house behind.

The Starbucks is still a little busy, but the morning rush has passed. Ferris sits at the edge of the parking lot and breathes in the smell of coffee, feeling nostalgic. Cat food isn't as bad as one might assume, but it still can't compare to a good roast or a stiff drink. Eventually, Ferris has sniffed his fill and continues home

He travels back through the conservation area and the sculpture park, past the Clifton fountain and the bakery in the same dozen or so steps, until he reaches his own neighborhood and slows. The city is awake now, more than just birds contributing to the noise around him. The cats from the night's Watch are turning in; some greet him with quiet feline chatter. Cars pass. Dogs are being walked.

Ferris leaps up onto the open windowsill when he reaches his home. It's cool, quiet, and dusk-dark inside. He trots up the stairs, through the room with the sill altar, and into the bedroom. His mistress still sleeps. He springs up onto the bed with her, landing on light feet and picking his way over the covers to curl up at her side.

"Hello, pretty boy," she murmurs sleepily. She brushes a hand down his back, her touch heavy and clumsy with drowsiness. "What have you been up to?"

Ferris opens himself to her, lets her feel what he's feeling. Pride, satisfaction, relief. She hums happily, smiles, and goes back to sleep.

Ferris closes his eyes and sleeps too, purring.

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[vid-writes]

My Training Starts Early (Ch. 9)

As always this book is for GROWN ADULTS ONLY!!!

Also!!!!!

If you want to read versions of these chapters that have been edited at least three times each then go search Frost and Petals on WattPad. I'm high key refusing to post anything but the first drafts here so that way people who are actually interested in the story have to go support me over there.

After Kari showers and changes, we walk hand in hand to the impromptu court meeting. I'm wearing the starlight silver dress his mother had made for me and the matching crown. He's dressed in Kroqalian Military Regalia—silver accents like the pants and jacket in all of the right places. Even the epaulets look really good. He's also wearing a crown that matches mine. We are a force.

As we enter the cafeteria where this meeting is, since the throne room was all but destroyed, that uncomfortable feeling that made me request this room begins to rise. As these things go on, my parents aren't here yet. I wait at the bottom of the dais, off to the left. Kari stays by my side, his hand refusing to drop mine. Everyone is staring at us, but I'm fixed on the door because Clarissa isn't here yet.

As if my thoughts summoned her, she walks into the doorway, and everyone gasps softly, even Kari and I. She has her golden hair pulled into a long braid she wears over her right shoulder. Golden eyes lined with thick black eyeliner. But the dress is what really stills everyone in the room. It's a full ball gown made of the softest shade of pink I've ever seen. Stitched into the outermost layer of the skirts, it is the symbol for the seer. Over and over and over. There will be no denying who she is now.

Instead of taking her usual place, she continues all the way up to the dais. She stops in front of Kari and me. "Your Graces, if you don't mind, I'd like to stand by you this afternoon. I have something of utmost importance to discuss with His Highness King Ruaridh," she explains with a low curtsy.

"Rise and join us." I lift my hand from Kari's and offer it to her. She takes the spot on my other side, and then the room just stares. But none of us are looking back at them.

Before anyone can think of opening their mouth, Hudson walks into the room. He's wearing slacks that are rumpled and a button-up that is buttoned wrong. Once Hudson is next to Clarissa, she quickly fixes his shirt and pulls out a comb for his hair. He tries to swat her off, but one look from me makes him stand still. She combs his askew gray hair into a more acceptable fashion and then tucks the comb away into her dress again.

The quiet din of casual chatter and gossip has just started when Cillian marches into the room, stops in the middle of the central aisle, and announces, "Rise and greet your monarchs."

The whole room nearly jumps to their feet as my parents appear in the doorway. My mother is a picture of grace in her emerald dress. It fits her body similarly to mine. Her blonde hair and blue eyes might give her away as a non-magic user, but they were my favorite things about her. All at once, the whole room lowers itself into curtsies and bows. We all stay that way as they make their way up the aisle and to the dais. Once seated, my father motioned to Hudson and me to join them. We take our places with me beside our father and him beside our mother.

"You may now rise," he addresses the court. Everyone straightens back up and takes their seats. Kari and Clarissa don't budge from the foot of the dais.

"First thing's first, our country was invaded tonight, right into the heart of our Kingdom. Deep enough into this castle, there were bodies near my daughter's room. We will figure out who gave them the information to get that deep inside because the only reasonable explanation is that we have a spy." His voice is tight, and I can hear the rage trying to sneak in.

"Now, onto the next thing. Clarissa, will you please join us on the dais," he says to her. She curtsies briefly and then climbs up the three stairs that span the entire base of the dais. "Your father made a deal. In exchange for his freedom in exile, he told us the truth about you. Indeed, you are a seer. Your parents, in fact, illegally drugged you from the day you were born because the golden hair and eyes made them nervous. When they had you tested at four, the recommended age, they did so at a shady testing facility. They had the records buried pretty deeply, but Cillian dug them up."

Just then, Cillian walks up onto the dais and hands Clarissa a thick folder. She opens it, and her face lights up. Those must be her test results, but what about the rest? I have no idea. She will probably tell me, though.

"As you can probably guess, this country is in dire need of a seer. However, there hasn't been one in a few hundred years. We do have some of the texts the last seer learned from, as well as all of his journals. If you wish to work for us, you will have access to all of these yourself. However, your training will be up to you and you alone," his offer hangs heavy in the air. The acquisition of a Royal Seer means the capture of the spy will be inevitable and accurate now.

"I will gladly accept the position of Vrathia's official seer," she proclaims as she dips into a curtsy again.

"You may go take your new permanent place, back where you were at the foot of the dais," he says by way of dismissal. She returns to the spot and holds the folder tight to her chest.

"As for you, my dearest daughter Flora," my father turns to me, so I step forward a few steps. "You plan to move to Kroqales after you and Kari are wed, correct?"

"Yes, Father," I reply.

"And in Kroqales, all men and women are trained in combat, correct?'

"Yes, father."

"Then, starting tomorrow, you will begin that training. You will join Kari and anyone else in the training ring every morning for two hours a day. That training may be what saves your life. I know your magic is strong, my darling, but with physical prowess, your magic will only grow more," he explains.

"That sounds wonderful to me, father." I dip into a curtsy. And I'm being serious. I'm glad I'll be starting training tomorrow. I've been looking forward to it.

"As for the rest of you, we need a noble family to contribute the remaining thirty percent of the funds needed to rebuild the throne room. Thanks to Flora's insistence on this cafeteria, I, too, find it weird to hold court where we eat," he says with a wink.

One of the noble families offers to pay for the remaining thirty percent, and then we are all dismissed. Of course, no one moves as my parents rise to leave first. No one would dare. After they round the corner outside of the doorway, everyone else starts to trickle out. I sit on the arm of my father's throne, watching, wondering who among them could have sold us out. Because it had to be a noble, none of them liked having to fund royal family things as a reminder of their places in the hierarchy.

"Penny, for your thoughts," Hudson says as he sneaks up behind me. Though he does this often, I still jump.

"Seriously, stop sneaking up on me," I grouse as I smack him in the chest lightly. He cackles as Kari and Clarissa chat quietly. The folder is still clutched tightly to her chest.

"I was wondering which one of the nobles betrayed us."

"Why do you think it's one of them? Why not one of the castle workers? Or a military member?" His voice grows quieter with each question.

"I'll explain later." I slide off the arm of the throne and head to where Cillian is still standing in his spot. He turns to me with an intellectual look in his eyes. He, too, was watching the crowd, wondering who the traitor was.

"Can we talk somewhere private," I ask as soon as I'm close enough that I'm sure no one can hear me. Cillian nods and heads into the crowd. All of my secret hiding places nearby aren't discreet enough, so I know where Cillian will be waiting for me.

"Leaving without me," Kari whispers in my ear, and this time, I yelp. And jump.

"What's with people sneaking up on me today," I seethe as I turn towards him. Kari already has his hands raised in surrender. Hudson walks by with a laugh.

"It's fun to scare her," he chuckles as he tugs Clarissa along behind him. I raise an eyebrow at her, but she holds up the folder. I mime a phone and then text. She gives me a thumbs-up before they disappear into the crowd.

"Yes, actually, I am leaving without you. I need to go talk to Cillian privately," I say as I turn back to face Kari. He pretends to look hurt for a second before he kisses my cheek.

"Promise to fill me in later," he whispers in my ear again.

"I'll meet you in your suite in an hour," I reply and then place a quick kiss on his lips.

Cillian is indeed waiting for me in the nook of windows by my room. His shadows are already blocking out the windows, and the dimness makes me realize how tired I am.

"You think the traitor to our kingdom is one of the nobles, don't you?" He asks as his shadows seal the little entryway behind me. No one will see us or hear a word we say.

"So do you." My voice is still low out of habit.

He nods as he looks past the shadows to the shapes of the grand courtyard below. With his unusual silence, I get the feeling he knows more than he's letting on at all.

"You know you won't be allowed to be anywhere near the investigation," he says as he finally looks back at me. His eyebrows draw together over his coal-black eyes, which are alight with worry.

"My Father allowed for Kari to be involved in the interrogation," I argue back. Cillian rolls his eyes and smirks. "And don't you even begin to tell me a damn thing about tradition."

"I was going to say your father is worried about your safety. That's why he announced that you would be training in front of all of the court that was present. He wants to make them nervous. Wants them to make impulsive stupid decisions," he explains tersely.

Defeat fills my body as I accept what Cillian has said. I don't particularly appreciate sitting things out, and certainly not because of tradition. But for my father? So he doesn't have to worry. I'll gladly sit this one out and do what he tells me to.

"Can you please keep me in the loop?"

"As if I would ever do anything else, My Princess," Cillian replies and bows a bit. When he straightens back up, I notice he's smiling.

"Thinking about a certain lady friend of yours," I tease. He chuckles, and pink fill his cheeks. Oh, he was thinking of the girl I had caught him kissing in one of my hiding spots.

"I'm just thinking how much she is the complete opposite of you," he teases back.

"Now you're just being mean." I playfully smack his chest, and he catches my wrist.

"You do know since we grew up together that I had a crush on you for the longest time," he whispers as his hand tightens on my wrist for a second before he lets go of it.

"You really pick the worst time to tell a girl something like that," I whisper back.

"I knew your father would never approve of a union between us. He likes his traditions. You are managing to convince him to let you have a say in your fiance, who still has a few people in shock." He rocks back onto his heels, and I can tell by how his eyes dart slightly lower than mine and back to them again he's. He's looking at my lips.

"Don't do anything stupid," I say.

"I won't, but sometimes I still wonder what it would be like to kiss you," he admits. "Don't get me wrong, the girl I'm starting to see is amazing, and I could see myself growing in love with her. But on days like today, I find myself regretting that I never made you trade a kiss for my silence once your father recruited me into his Honor Guard."

"That would have been a trade I would have been willing to make," I murmur. Cillian tenses for a second and then straightens his posture.

"One of my shadows informed me that your father is looking for me to discuss the fate of our prisoners," he says. All at once, his shadows return to him, and he leaves. I'm left blinking in the bright light of the early evening that flooded the space again when he called back his shadows.

Back in my room, Kari is lounging on my fainting couch with a glass of whiskey in the hand he has dangling over the back. The sight of him immediately relaxes me and ignites the spark in my stomach. As I move around the couch, I notice that the glass seems to be slipping from his fingers. I catch it and round the sofa fully.

Kari is sound asleep on my fainting couch. I want to let him stay asleep, but not only did I say I would give him an update, I know from experience that sleeping on that couch sucks.

"Kari, my love," I murmur as I run a hand up his arm. He jerks awake and looks up at me sheepishly.

"Sorry, I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I sat down," he yawns. He pushes up into a sitting position and reaches for the whiskey I'm still holding.

"I know how you feel. I would have let you sleep there for longer, but I know from experience that sleeping on a fainting couch for an extended period wrecks your neck," I explain as I hand Kari the glass. He finishes the little bit that's left in the glass before he sets it on the table next to the couch.

"So, how did your secret meeting with Cillian go?" He stands up and offers me his hand. We head for my bed as I explain what we talked about, of course leaving out Cillian's untimely confession.

"Your father has the right idea," he comments as he starts to strip off his military regalia. I watch as more of his skin is exposed to me.

"He does, so for once, I'm not going to put up a fight about his decisions." This statement makes Kari stop with his shirt halfway off. He lowers it again so he can see my face. There is a genuine shock on his.

"You really are?" The disbelief in his voice is heavy.

"You've known me for two weeks. How are you surprised by this?"

"If there's one thing I've learned, it's that you like to argue about anything you see as unfair. Tradition. Laws. Declarations from the King Himself." He's grinning widely now as he tosses his shirt to the side and starts to work on his belt.

"And I've learned you really like to tease."

"Oh no. You are the only one I like to tease in any capacity," Kari says as he steps out of his pants. All he's wearing is a pair of white boxers. "Do you need help out of your dress?"

"Yes, please," I reply.

He steps up and gently grabs my waist. With firmness, Kari spins me around so that my back is to him. First, he removes my crown and places it in the box on my vanity. Then, he slowly works the zipper of my dress down. His fingers graze my skin the whole time, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Once the zipper is open, he tugs the straps off my shoulders. The dress slides off of me like liquid silver.

"You never stop being sexy," he whispers as he kisses the back of my neck. His fingers wind into my hair, and he starts to pull out all the pins holding it into a bun. Once they're all scattered onto my carpet, Kari turns my body to face his.

"Neither do you," I counter. Somehow, Kari's grin gets even more prominent.

"If we hadn't lost sleep over the raid and I hadn't had to exert myself with so many transformations, I would ravage you tonight," he purrs. My whole body shudders, and he chuckles.

I suggest ravaging me in the morning before training. It will make for a good warm-up.

"Sounds like a plan," he concurs as he scoops me up and carries me to my bed. He lays me down on the side I'm used to sleeping on and then crawls in behind me.

Just like every other time we've shared a bed, he pulls me to him until my back is flush with his chest. His cold skin relaxes me right away. As he tucks the blanket around us up to our chins, I already feel sleep lulling on my body. He presses a kiss on my shoulder, and I surrender to the darkness.

I awake a little while later to Kari's cold lips on my shoulder again. They're slowly trailing down my arm. A glance at the clock on my nightstand tells me it's after three in the morning.

"Too early," I mutter as he kisses the palm of my hand.

"I woke up from a wet dream about you." He pressed his hips into my ass, and sure enough, there was a big wet patch on his boxers. His cock is also still hard as a board.

"Don't want to move," I grumble as his hand grabs my thigh and pulls it up and over his hip.

"Then let me do all of the moving." I make a noise of confirmation and his fingers disappear between my thighs. The first stroke of his finger up my slit sends a jolt of pleasure through my whole body. Kari continues to slowly stroke his finger over my slit a few times before he pushes into my folds.

"Feels so amazing," I moan as his middle finger circles my clit in slow deep strokes. My body arches into his hand as he chuckles.

"You're already getting soaked for me," he whispers in my ear. "Already so soaked I could slide inside of you with no resistance."

"Do it," I breathe out.

"Use your manners."

"Please slide your cock inside of me and finally relieve us both of this insane tension," I whimper. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Kari's hand disappears from my folds. He moves enough that he can take his boxers off, and then his cock is pushing against my pussy.

Without even waiting for me to start complaining, he lines himself up with my hole and starts to slide in. A moan rips its way out of my throat as Kari's cock does indeed slide fully inside of me with no resistance and little effort on his part. His cock is fully seated inside of me from this angle, and he stops moving.

"Please, Kari, please keep going," I whine again. Spurned on by my desperation, Kari slides his cock out to the tip and then drives it back in quickly. He curses and the is pushing me onto my stomach as he kneels between my legs from behind. He pulls my ass up into his hips, and the whole time, he manages to keep his cock inside of me.

Once he's got his balance, Kari starts to fuck me in quick and deep thrusts. Like he's going to cum now and wants to enjoy every last second. Kari's finger returns to my clit, and he's not being as teasing as he was earlier. He presses deep, rough, fast circles into my clit, and I cum in a few seconds. A scream rips out of my throat, and he shoves my face into the bed with his other hand to silence it.

"Such a good girl. I'm about to cum too. Should we get a head start on breeding our heir," he growls in my ear as he pulls me up by my hair.

"Fuck yes, please," I pant out as his fingers drag a second orgasm out of me. The tightening of my walls seems to pull him under, too, because his hips stutter and then stop. I can feel him pulsing inside of me erratically. His fingers continue to work my clit, and I come a third time. Finally, his hand withdraws from my clit, and I collapse into the bed. Kari pulls out and collapses next to me.

"That was fucking incredible," I pant out as I turn my head to look at Kari. He's panting, too, as he looks at me.

"Yes, it was," he agrees as he pulls my back to his chest again. "Still up for doing it again before training for a warm-up?"

"Only if you wake me up with better foreplay next time," I yawn. Sleep is already trying to tug me back under.

"I'll wake you up with my tongue in your cunt," he purrs into my ear. I shudder.

"Sounds like we have a deal then," I yawn again. Kari kisses my temple, and we both fall back asleep almost immediately.

[icedmatchatae]

Best Lover | PJM

Pairing: CEO’s Assistant Jimin x CEO’s Daughter Reader

Genre: Secret Established Relationship AU, Masquerade, Smut, PWP

Summary: Though hiding a relationship had its struggles, you and Jimin made it work. Which meant learning about each other, knowing the way you both function, understanding flaws…and teaching Jimin how to be the best lover he can be for you.

Inspired by Best Lover by BIBI

Warning: hush hush ;-), your dad is THAT type of dad who is also oblivious, joon is a true one🫡, jimin has silver locks in this lol, switch Jimin x switch oc (no specified power dynamic but oc def more needy), semi-public, oral (m. and f. receiving), fucking with the masks on (masks fucking hehehe), praises, multiple orgasms, protected sex, these little shits are lovey dovey, surprise ending :D

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: FINALLY A SHORTER ONE SHOT!!! Just had this idea a while back because I was obsessed with this song. The story is literally smut so…Hope you enjoy! There’s a lot I have planned

Also posted on AO3!!

Stolen glances were made from across the banquet hall. Those cocoa shimmering slit eyes hidden behind that ivory animal mask with antlers tried focusing on the conversation before him, but he was too distracted by your keen ones. Your eye contact kept its stance while “listening” to your friend in front of you talking in theories once again. Couldn’t blame yourself, you loved your friend but they somehow confused you at times when they opened their mouth.

“Do you have an eye problem with someone?” A voice finally shattered your distant attention for you to finally look at your friend.

You looked up at your friend’s tall stature before saying, “Nope, your thoughts just bore me right now.” You sipped on your champagne glass, in an attempt to calm yourself down after getting caught at the delicious man on the other side of the room.

Namjoon rolled his eyes before shaking his head, “You know if you keep doing that, you’re gonna get caught.”

“Please, I’m not.” You disagreed. “Look around, everyone’s distracted with these dang masks.” You said as you pointed at the golden and plum colored designed mask on you.

Well, you weren’t wrong. Attending a masquerade ball meant no one knew who was who until you actually introduced yourself, which most of the time, you didn’t as you hid away from annoying pretentious individuals and media. In a way, this themed event was the perfect time for you to let a little loose…if you know what I mean.

Though half of his face was covered by a red and white mask with gold accents, you saw him raising an eyebrow at you. “Feeling rather bold tonight, aren’t we?” The blush crept up on your disguised face, eyes shying away from your good friend to see the scenery you were in.  Nevertheless, you knew he was right.

Your view shifted back at those familiar eyes from across the setting, only this time, he was too distracted and invested with the esteemed guests in conversation, and most importantly, your father on this side.

He was with your dad, his respective boss, the CEO of Jeon Corporation and you were the daughter of the acclaimed Jeon Jungwoo. A mysterious socialite in the public eye because you didn’t share much about yourself and kept your personal life low. None of your friends weren’t in the spotlight, apart from Namjoon, whose parents are owners of the well-known chain restaurant, KimBamBap. 

You internally sighed, wishing that you were in your father’s position instead, except you would be more cuddled into his side and pecking his cheek from time to time.

You guessed that was what happens when you were in a secretive relationship and deeply in love with your father’s assistant, Park Jimin.

When you first met Jimin, it was a very embarrassing moment…for you at least. Your father has been setting you up with potentials for the past year, in hopes you can start dating and get married before you turned thirty which was bullshit but whatever, you know? Almost all were a bust. Some were pretentious, others’ personalities were one-dimensional, and the rest…were just not right. One date got so bad, you left in the middle of it. You didn’t even remember their name afterward. Running away from the paparazzi and any people, you kinda drank your sadness, thinking how alone you were, near the pier on a normal Wednesday night.

All of a sudden, came along a stranger with a cute miniature dog, concerned with the sounds of crying while on a stroll. Lo and behold, it was Jimin. But because you were drunk, you were very flirty and more outspoken than usual. An alter ego, if you must. Not to mention, how you straight up grabbed his canine from the ground and cuddled with the pet on a bench.

Though suspicious of your actions, he was in a blushing frenzy and thought you were very attractive. He realized your drinking through the green bottles on the side of you, so you were probably gonna be embarrassed by your behavior afterward. With your subconscious in front and noticing how handsome Jimin was, you unapologetically kissed him—even tried to get some tongue in—but he pushed you away in your intoxicated respect. Ashamed, you fled the scene and took a cab home. You eventually forgot his name but not his face, even under the fluorescent moonlight. It was a moment of weakness but you moved forward from there.

Or so you thought because a couple of weeks later, your father invited you to a company dinner and introduced you to Jimin, his new assistant. You felt so regretful and wanted to die in a hole. Yet Jimin didn’t seem to tease you much on it but rather wanted to start all over and introduce one another properly this time. And being one of the few younger ones at this event, there was no doubt a connection sparked.

Eventually, your conversations turned into much flirting and innuendos to the point, you both kinda cracked during the Christmas party that following year…in some random room…probably the cleaning closet. You don’t know really, but all you knew was how functional Jimin was beyond being your dad’s assistant.

Though you’d expect a "friends with benefits" type of deal, a loving blossoming relationship bloomed out of it. In between those intimate times, Jimin took you out on dates, showered you with gifts despite telling him no, comforted you in times of need, and treated you like an absolute queen of his life.

However, it was hidden away from the public, the company, your parents, particularly your father. Jeon Jungwoo was a good man, treated you the best way possible as a father to a daughter, and wanted to give you the whole universe.

But with a great father, also came a strict protective one. He explicitly told any man who comes across you that if they hurt you, he’ll ruin their life. You may think he was exaggerating but those terrible dates you went to were never heard from again…

Don’t worry he didn’t kill them. But the men would get bug-eyed and evacuated the premises when they saw you. Your father was a scary man to almost everyone, including his assistant. 

Because what happens if the CEO found out that his assistant was fucking his daughter, the apple of his eye? There weren’t any good signs anywhere. 

Everything that was done with Jimin was done in privacy and kept secret. The only person who knew about your relationship was Namjoon, and it was only because he caught the both of you making out in another closet. Nonetheless, your tall friend stayed loyal and kept his fucking mouth shut from spoiling anything. It has been a little over a year, so it was safe to say the relationship was still preserved.

Hiding your relationship had its ups and downs and both of you questioned if it was even worth it to stay. It didn’t help the fact of how on-demand his job was despite being under your dad. But Jungwoo was a very busy man with an insane schedule, which meant Jimin had to exceed his expectations. Tears were shed, and unthinkable and hurtful words were said, but ended up with apologies and reconciliation, always fighting harder for one another. 

No doubt that you love Jimin, but Jimin, he was head over heels for you. When you finally revealed your confession to him, he felt the weight lifted off his shoulders. You pulled him out of the friend zone as he assumed you saw him as nothing more than the flirty young assistant of your father. You fell first—as you had a crush on him since the first meet—but Jimin fell harder that he never wanted to let go.

It pained him how much he had to distance himself from you. He wanted to show you off to every place, everyone, every living thing, and shout that he was yours. He wanted to touch you, kiss you, anything that was appropriate to the public eye. It was difficult keeping everything concealed, almost getting caught, and feeding lies to your loved ones. It ached you to hide it from your parents. Your relationship with them was pretty open to an extent, and they were all innocent in all of this, more so your dad.

He never hated Jimin, in fact, he absolutely loves Jimin. He would rave about how Jimin was the best assistant he has ever had, gloating to others like he was his son. Why else your father had a habit of giving Jimin more stocks and promotions every year?

However, though he loves you and he loves him, that doesn’t mean he’d loved the two of you together. Your father knew the boundaries between work and personal, never wanting to clash the two.

That was what you also wanted because if anything happened—hope never does—you didn’t want it affecting your father’s company or Jimin’s career. You didn’t want to risk anything.

So here you were—practically eye fucking him from afar.

“Do you want me to, like, cover you or something?” Namjoon suggested, staring at you with a revolting yet concerning expression. Your friend knew how you felt, empathizing with the whole situation. As a very Namjoon way of comforting, he’d always reassured you that though how you felt was valid, he believed that you should rip the band-aid and tell your parents. But he knew you weren’t ready, maybe you’ll be ready to tell your parents when you were about to get married.

So as an alternate way of soothing you, he helped you sneak around to get some dick.

“Mmm, maybe so.” You pondered at the moment because it was tempting. “I do want you to distract daddy away from Jimin.”

“I hate that you still call him that.” Namjoon judged, side-eyeing you. 

“Why? He’s my daddy.” You defended yourself. You didn’t think any wrong with it. People just interpreted it wrongly and sometimes not right in their heads. “But please, distract him. He’s coming this way with Jimin!”

Namjoon couldn’t open his mouth to respond in time as your dad and Jimin came your way. Your father, the host, and creator of this masquerade, masked with a pure ebony mask that resembled what was used in the Phantom of the Opera. He wore a sleek and crisp dark grey suit with black loafers, as well as styling his salt and pepper hair back.

But your boyfriend, on the other hand, Jesus Christ…he decided on an all-black look that when in contrast with his white face coverup. His blazer had been designed with onyx jewels and sequins on the top of his shoulders. He wore silver hoops and accessorized his hands with his signature bracelets and rings. The way he styled his short silver hair—pushed back as well but his undercut peaked through to perfectly highlight the volume on top. Yet there was always that one strand that seamlessly fell on his forehead.

Just looking at him made you want to crash into him.

But you had to keep your cool, for the sake of everything on the line. You praised your dad for the masquerade idea because he was too focused on actually seeing the person he talked to, ignoring the longing stares his assistant gave you.

“My dear apple!” Your father greeted you like he never saw you two hours ago when you arrived with Namjoon and your other friends. He embraced you, then shook your form with much passion. “You’re so beautiful, my daughter, my heir. The heavens blessed me with the life of you. I want to say I love you, so proud of all that you’ve don—”

“Okay, daddy. That’s enough. I don’t want to hear your whole speech again today.” You interrupted him, getting slightly embarrassed by his compliments.

“It’s never enough to show my daughter love.” Jungwoo pushed before kissing your temple. “Have you’ve been having fun?”

“As much fun as I can with your business parties.” You sounded unamused. It wasn’t something you loathed. You got free food and drinks out of it, but again, it wasn’t your type of vibe. “But masquerade is a new switch up. I can’t tell who’s who.”

Your father laughed heartedly. “That’s the point, there’s no telling what people will do.”

“Exactly…” You glanced at Jimin who grinned and stayed quietly behind your father, then switched to Namjoon to telepathically cue your favor now.

Namjoon got the message and cleared his throat. “Uncle Jeon, can you come with me for a minute? There are some sponsors I’d like to introduce you to. My father isn’t here due to illness, so I want you to be with me since you help endorse our business.” Nice act, Namjoon.

“Of course, Joon!” Your father looked up at your friend and patted his back proudly, then stretched over to the younger man’s opposite shoulder to reel him closer. “Lead the way!” But before the two left, he turned back to his assistant. “Sorry, Jimin, my boy, please excuse me. Actually, have some fun. You’ve been clinging onto my side the entire time. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Jimin nodded and bowed to his employer, “Will do, sir. Thank you.”

“___, my apple. If you can, please accompany Jimin to your friends since you’re all similar in age. Have fun!!” Your father proposed, then left with your tall friend. Namjoon rotated his head quickly back, winking before talking to your dad.

Now it was finally the two of you.

Goodness, since the moment you arrived, Jimin tried his absolute best, ignoring you to do his job dutifully. But how can he when you came in, appearing like a three-star Michelin meal? 

Your plum halter-topped satin dress cinched your waist and fell seamlessly around your curves. The clothing was backless, exposing your glowing skin but cutting off right above the small of your back. However, your hair was pressed and straightened down, covering most of your back. Your heels and jewelry were gold so that they could match the accents of your mask. 

Though you were the daughter of a high-status CEO, no one could recognize you, especially at this very moment. Lucky you…because you felt extra attached tonight.

“Hello, Ms. Jeon. Looking very beautiful tonight.” Jimin greeted “professionally,” having his hands behind him to control himself from touching you in front of all these people and your dad.

“Hi, Mr. Park. You’re not so bad yourself.” You winked before chugging down what was left in your flute. Some of it dribbled in the corners of your mouth but you wiped it away with your thumb, suckling onto it to take the tiny bits of alcohol as you gazed directly at the man before you. You popped your thumb off of your painted lips, then smiled gracefully. 

Jimin thinned his plush lips, eyes scanning around the vicinity to make sure the coast was clear before stepping closer towards you. He was in elbows reach, but you both kept your hands to yourselves. “Doll.” His voice had a pinch of warning, but it didn’t stop you.

“Mr. Park, I would like to tell you a little secret.” You placed the flute on the high-top tables. You weren’t drunk, you weren’t buzzed from a glass or two of champagne. But alcohol in your system always made you bold. 

He raised an eyebrow at you, questioning what you were up to. You leaned into him. Even in high heels, you needed to raise your head higher so that your lips hovered around his ear. You held onto his shoulder for support before saying, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

He inhaled sharply, eyes widening and jaw clenching in the process. He had to maintain his cool, but his girlfriend never made it easy for him. Light touches, swirling your tongue on desserts and meaningless moans, eye-fucking looks, lingerie that you wore underneath your elegant attire that only he knew because you’d sent him a photo prior, and what he hated the most was when you teased with your words. You never told lies, you said them honestly and seductively. That’s exactly why he felt himself hardening behind his suit.

His hands went into his pockets casually, adjusting himself to not make anything too noticeable. He smiled sweetly at the crowds of the guest before landing back onto you. “Ms. Jeon, you better behave, or a punishment might come your way.”

Though you knew he wanted you to stop, you also knew he loved playing along with you as it led to very euphoric encounters. You moved away from him and shrugged. “Maybe I want a punishment. I mean…” You feigned a sigh, resting on the table. You looked down at your pointer finger circling with the rim of the glass. Then your eyes met with your boyfriend, “I’m on my worst behavior tonight.”

“Is that so, Ms. Jeon?” He breathed out, sensing the thickness of tension between them. You nodded as if you were innocent, pushing your lower lip out to get your word out straight. “Hmmm, perhaps you need some assistance with managing your behavior?”

“Thank you for your offer, Mr. Park, but I already have someone to help me on that.”

Cocking a brow at you, he stared profoundly. “May I ask who?”

“My loving, charming, flirtatious, sexy, and warm boyfriend who has my heart.” You replied, holding a palm over your décolletage. Your words softened his heart but only made his clothed cock harder. “If you excuse me, Mr. Park, I’ll see my boyfriend now.”

“Certainly, Ms. Jeon.” He nodded.

You got off of the table, standing straight as you flattened your dress, brushing off any wrinkles. You went closer to him, shining irises meeting his with adoration. “Chim, can we go somewhere with more…private?” Your light asking corrupted his professional mind. He immediately had no thoughts of the job he was supposed to be working on tonight. He could only think of you and having his hands all over your skin, giving your love language the respect it deserved. 

Your dad did say to have fun, so that was what Jimin was going to do.

“Anything your heart desires, doll.”

-

Either of you wasn’t a novice towards sex, but Jimin didn’t realize how frisky you were. He wasn’t intimidated or anything, but it was certainly a surprise. You were a tease who always wanted more than handled. But you knew what you wanted, what you liked, and what you expected.

Of course, in the beginning, Jimin knew nothing about it but you gradually taught him. He learned your dialect and spoke to the beauty of your body—stretch marks, moles, dips, and cellulite on every part of you. He remembered the routes and directions he needed but knew that wasn’t the only key.

Hand in hand, the two of you cautiously ran away from the grand hall. Nearing the exit, you turned back to where Namjoon and your father were, meeting contact with your friend. He signaled a thumbs up, then going back to the eccentric story your father was telling him.

It was basic protocol for you or Jimin to book a room within hotel venues during parties, but this place unfortunately wasn’t. As your father’s masquerade was the biggest event in the hall, most of the workers and guests were inside. The tinier and much more hidden halls were at the ends or deep corners of the site. It was perfect for you.

After much walking and deciding, Jimin chose one of the smallest areas in the end corner on the right. He recalled when he and your father were picking out venues, the manager explained how these halls weren’t used as often due to the lack of space. Sure, not a good location for a luxurious party, but a fantastic place to make love with the doll of his life…under some circumstances.

Once you reached the setting, though it lacked size, it was grand nevertheless. A single chandelier in the middle of the room lit beautifully, light bouncing off the burgundy carpeted floor. There wasn’t much except for two wooden circular tables and wall dividers, but you took it as an opportunity. 

Pulling your boyfriend to the dividers, you were met with another table but it was covered with a white linen cloth and surprise, surprise, stacks of folded linens. Not as comfy but it shouldn’t be a problem.

Jimin wrapped his arms around your waist from behind before peppering kisses on your naked shoulder. “Doll, are you alright with this? It’s not the most ideal.” He began traveling up your trapezius. 

“I don’t care as long as I have you.” You breathed out as you stretched your neck to give him more access. You then felt his tongue lick a strip over the span before biting delicately on your neck. He had the urge to mark you as his but knew people would give questionable looks. “Chim.” Your voice was shaky, the tone telling how much you needed him.

“Easy, Doll.” He took you towards the table. He turned you around to face him before putting you down to sit on the surface. He bent forward to weave his lips with yours, going as unhurriedly yet sensual as possible. “Though we’re here, lemme take my time with you.”

A second later, his mouth consumed yours. His tongue pushed through your lips to get a taste of you in him, feeling your teeth and the roof of your mouth. Smacking echoed throughout the room. He firmed his grip on your waist as you spread your legs open. Fuck, he didn’t realize how much he missed you after being apart for the work week, preparing for this masquerade ball.

His hard-on found your dampening heat, rocking into you. It was the right decision not to put underwear on. You moaned into his mouth before parting away. Reddened lips, flushed faces, eyes filled with lust and devour. Your masks were still on but none of you bothered to care. You respired as you looked at him, “Chim, wait before you take your time, can I...taste you, baby?”

Fucking music to his ears. He grunted at your ask and nodded like an excited boy getting a PS5. “Fuck, yes, honey.”

Instantly, you hopped off the table and got down on your knees in front of him, your eyes level with his crotch. What laid behind those tight dress pants and briefs was what you’ve been dying to have after going abstinent for a couple of days because of how busy Jimin was. You decided on not pleasuring yourself, knowing that this very moment was worth waiting for.

With shaking hands, you lifted them to unbuckle his belt and fumbled with pulling it out of the loop. Once you slid the leather off, you pulled his tucked-in collared shirt out. It was now for his pants. But he saw you struggling with the button, tugging on it as you progressively became impatient.

“___, easy girl.” Jimin puts a hand on your fingers, making you stare up. “Are you okay, why are you like this right now?” Though you were a needy little doll, you loved the slow way, little touches, little kisses, oh, and surely the foreplay.

You were practically panting, breaths cutting short and quick. Still having a hold on his pants, you whispered, “S-sorry. Please, I’ve been waiting for it all week.”

Jimin almost finished right then and there.

Now it was his turn to be impatient. He assisted you with his pants and aggressively pushed them down enough to see the shape of his cock. It was a mouth-watering sight to see it pressing into his underwear.

You cupped him with your palm massaging it steadily as you watched his face contort at minimal relief. You felt him grow bigger under your touch, biting your lip. You had enough so you took him out of his briefs, revealing his curved thickening dick.

You saw the pearl of pre-cum leaking out and you went for it. You latched onto the head. Tongue swirled and swiped against the slit, sucking his tip like a ring pop. You pushed yourself down, trying to take as much of him in, though, at times, it was nearly impossible. You bobbed your head, gradually finding a rhythm you liked.

Meanwhile, Jimin had his head back and moaned at the feel of your mouth. His hand found home in your hair, threading through your tendrils. His knees trembled and fortunately, he stayed put as you took him all in. The tip of your nose dug into his pubic hair, causing him to groan loudly. “Fuck, doll, you’re doing such a good job. Fuck.”

God, you loved his praises. It only egged you on. You swirled your tongue, slithering it over a vein, making him hiss. You pulled back, mouth only on his reddened brownish-pink tip. You used your hand to wrap around his shaft before squeezing from the top to his base. The concoction of your spit and his pre-cum acted like lube. Your mouth bounced on him, the squishing sounds shooting toward your eardrums.

You slobbered everywhere, but the messier it was, the better for your Jimin. Your throat began stinging from the coercion. You tried your best not to gag, thinking you’ve experienced enough of him not to. But your reflex failed you, retching around his thickness. As your eyes strained red, teardrops built up around them.

Your pupils directed upwards to meet your flushed-cheeked boyfriend, who seemed concerned for you. Tugging on your hair, he took you off gently. His sodden cock slapped his loosened shirt while you controlled your breathing. Your chest rose up and down. Saliva stayed on the corners of your lips as you swiped your tongue through. 

He took your arm and helped you back on your feet. He meshed your lips, mumbling into them. “You’re so good to me, doll. Now it’s my turn to show my love.” He hoisted you back onto the table. Bundling the skirt of your dress to your waist, he moaned at the sight of your bare pussy exposed. “You really don’t have panties on, huh?”

You blushed before spreading your legs, opening your sex for him to see and appreciate. “I wouldn’t lie, Chim.”

“I know, fuck. Gotta love all what you’re doing for me.” With his two thumbs, he stretched apart your petals. Your tiny clit pulsated on his watch as you leaked your essence down. Jimin took a deep inhale at your scent, making you flustered.

“Jimin, don’t do that!” You whined, consciously closing your legs but he took initiative to never let you do that with him.

He slapped your cunt swiftly, keeping you from squirming again. “Doll, behave.” Though pouting, you surrendered and let him open you back up. As he gazed at your heat, he blew softly. You mewled at the cooling feeling, your fingers finding their way to his locks. “So pretty and perfect for me.”

“Jimin.” You sounded more desperate, which was a good sign. “Touch me.”

“Touch you? Touch you where?” As much as you loved to tease, you hated receiving it back. You didn’t want any more games, you wanted it now.

“Touch me! Eat my pussy, finger me, fuck me into oblivion. I don’t care! I ju—Ahhh, Jimin!” You threw your head back and laid your form on the table, resting on the folded sheets.

You couldn’t finish your sentence. His pinky tongue flattened on your clit, making circles around to make you go dizzy. The muscle shifted down, breaching through your throbbing hole. He lapped your wetness while his thumb found your sensitive bud and played figure eights on it, making lay helplessly and whimper. With his unoccupied hand, he circled your thigh to bring you closer. Fuck, he really knew how to get your body riled up.

He was blessed to be unlocking your entire self. You unraveled in his presence. He, for sure, was gonna get it right tonight. Kneading your thigh, he switched his ministrations so now his lips wrapped around your clit while his fingers played around the rim of your petals.

You were a mewling mess, grinding your pelvis into his face. Once his two appendages slid into your center, a long high-pitched noise came out of you. He turned and rotated his wrist before pumping in and out. Your face scrunched, taking the sensation of your boyfriend all over your pussy. Jimin slurped your sweet juices as your stuffed hole gushed continuously.

He curled his fingers, finding the squishy g-spot that made you mimic a police siren, goosebumps ran all over your body. The pressure in your stomach tightened, clenching your abs to quicken the speed.

Jimin separated from you, “Doll, I can feel your walls clenching. Are you close?” You merely nodded, whining for him to keep going. He wasted no time swirling his muscle around your swollen nub and quickened his pace with urgency. 

Thighs quivered tremendously as the gush of ecstasy crashed into you, your back arched high off the table. Your fingers gripped around his gelled hair, messing up an hour of work yet he paid no attention to it. Your cunt closed in around your boyfriend’s short but thick fingers. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head while your mouth spewed a series of whimpers and chants of his name.

Jimin gulped your creaminess, easing you down your high. He wanted to make sure you had a well-received orgasm through and through, as always. He was undoubtedly a giver, paying attention to your needs. He believed that it wouldn’t be worth it on either end if he wasn’t doing it right. He gently guided you down onto the table while planting pecks (and maybe a few marks here and there) on your inner thighs.

You tried controlling your breathing, blinking away from the blurry vision to get a glimpse of your gorgeous boyfriend. His one-of-a-kind face shined with your saccharine, licking around the rims of his lips to make sure none of it went to waste. He looked absolutely delectable while you were pretty much out of it.

Face flushed with a hue of pink, cherry lips from all the biting, eyes drooping with lust, hair slightly damped and matted, and a craving for more. When you rushed to sit up, Jimin was a bit worried as you were still in a hazy trance, all it took was you undo the clip in the back of your neck to make him more at ease. The top half fell, freeing you from the constraint of any clothing around your chest. All of your satin dress was held at your waist. Your breasts perked up and nubs hardened from the chill air and need of your boyfriend.

“Chim! Wan’ you please.” You slurred as you widened your legs to present your bearings to Jimin. You made grabby hands for him to come closer to you.

Jimin needed you as much as you needed him. He made way to be within your reach. Immediately hooking your arms around his nape, you hauled him over to attack kisses on the curve of his shoulder. Meanwhile, his hands acted like magnets and gravitated toward your boobs. Cupping them in his palms, he fondled one as he played with the other side’s nipple between his index and thumb.

You muffled moans into his skin, the sensation increased your sensitivity yet it still wasn’t enough.

“Please, please, baby.” You begged, growing impatient by the second. You wiggled your lower body, hoping to find his cock meet your puffy folds. 

His heated shaft was rock solid, the tip aching red, oozing out driblets of pre-cum. You couldn’t wait for him to be inside of you, but first, safety…but more so, made clean up easier.

Jimin pulled a condom out of his back pocket. He already knew sex with you was bound to happen in the most unconventional way. Better to be ready than sorry. Though you were in a committed long-term relationship, you weren’t on birth control for personal reasons.

He opened the foil wrapper, flicking it to the side of him before effortlessly putting it on. He stroked himself for relief and double-checked if it was on properly. When done, he aligned himself to your center. He glanced at you for your consent and once you nodded, he slowly plunged in.

Finally, all in, you felt so fucking full. His tip poked the top of your cervix, whining at the slight yet overpowering touch. You gazed up at your boyfriend, feeling the love overflowed from him. God, you love him so much. Sex was much deeper when you were him than anyone else before. 

“I love you, Jimin.” You pouted before cutely kissing his lips.

Jimin chuckled darkly yet raging with adoration for you. There were so many things he wanted to do with you and to you, but right now, he wanted to take it easy and slow despite how much you’ve been itching to be railed by him. “I love you too, my doll.” He kissed you back, gently but with more tongue.

When you squeezed his shoulder, he knew you were adjusted and comfortable. He rested his hands on your waist, securing your body where he wanted you to be. He pulled himself out, leaving the head in you before slamming right back in. You gasped, digging your head into the covered wooden surface.

He said easy and slow, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go hard as well. His thrusts were too steady for your liking but each penetration pierced you stronger than the last, even the table legs squeaked against the carpet. The linen sheets dared to even fall off the surface, sounding plops to the ground. The sounds of your screeching and moaning pleasured his eardrums as he grunted praises at you.

“Fuck, best pussy ever. Best woman ever.” He exhaled, biting his lower lip to keep himself from releasing too quickly. “Never leaving you, want you by my side forever.”

“So good! All yours. ‘M all yours!” You voiced out before your mind clouded with fluffs of his pounding dick. At that moment, he hit that special spot in your pussy, making your whines louder, echoing off the walls. It was a good thing that you were far from the crowd or else your father’s guests would know his level-headed and quiet daughter was a screamer with his assistant.

Jimin’s thumb found its way to your swollen clit, causing you to evaporate into his glory. You went into tunnel vision, your melted mind only thought of your true love grunting and kneading marks on your body as a sign of the impact he had in your life.

Maybe it was the alcohol, and that you get quite stimulated with emotions, or maybe it was the anniversary of the day you met him next week. Either way, you couldn’t ask for anyone else and were internally grateful for meeting him. Despite the hiding, the fights, and the crying, your love for each other was above all and worth taking a chance, never wanting to give up.

Jimin’s pace slowed down and became irregular, sensing that he was close. “Doll, cum together?” You didn’t even need to answer because you were right behind him. You screamed his name as you held him close to your trembling form. You pressed your bare chest with his clothed one, your nipples brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

When his lips found yours, he pumped once more before sinking himself in you while you went into your second high of the night. Your eyelids squeezed shut as you shrieked cries for Jimin. Your creaming cunt convulsed around his milking dick. He whined breathlessly into your neck, calling for you as he poured his cum into the latex, filling it more than usual.

He did mini thrusts, trying to squirt the droplets of white until he was fully done. You dropped back onto the table, trying to catch your breath. The life was sucked out of you, but you’d do it again if you had the energy and comfortable setting.

You felt him softening, yet he kept himself in. It was his way of wanting to be connected with you all the time. You loved it so much. But assuming the situation, he pulled himself out but not with you mewling at your sensitivity. He mumbled apologies while peppering your temple.

Though you didn’t want to let go of him, he parted away to take the condom off. You laid there flat, not bothering to move. When he removed the latex and tied it up, he examined how filled it was. “Heavy load.” He giggled, causing you to shake your head but chuckle with him. “Well, it has been a while. I’m sorry for being busy, doll.”

“It was indeed a long week, but it’s okay. I know you were planning the party.” You shrugged it off. Jimin extended a hand that you gladly clasped to help you sit up. If the both of you weren’t looking like you just had passionate sex and different shades of red, you positively were now.

After putting the filled condom in his pocket because he’ll dispose of it in the nearest bathroom and didn’t want to leave the evidence in this empty hall, he went up to hug you. “I hope you don’t think any less of me and how much I care for you.”

“Jimin, no, don’t say that.” You disagreed heavily on that, pushing him off so you could look him in the eyes. “I would never think any less of you. You mean so more than you could ever imagine.” You caressed his cheek as you gazed into his sparkling brown irises. “I know we’ve had rough patches in our relationship but look where we are!”

“Post-sex at a party currently hosted by your dad?”

“You’re not wrong,” You rolled your eyes, smiling before pecking his lips. “But what I was trying to point out is that we’re still together.” 

“I’m sorry, I just—I want to make sure that you know…I still love you.”

I still love you with all my heart too, and don’t forget that.” You cooed, scrunching your nose at him. His eyes disappeared, but a smile formed on his face, giddy at your reassured confession.

He leaned in before weaving with your lips once more. The two of you were enthralled by the everlasting love you expressed. It was truly a robust and enduring one, even if it was behind closed doors. It took patience and kindness to get to this point. Your love for him always came out stronger, you would stay with him forever as he held it dear to his heart.

And for that, you taught him how to be the best lover that he can be for you.

The best lover for you.

Bonus:

The thrilling party was coming down to an end as guests were leaving and servants and other workers started cleaning up. Yet Jungwoo watched over with a bright smile and extroverted energy for days with Namjoon by his side.

By the way, Namjoon never left him alone.

The younger man distracted the CEO in hopes that he wouldn’t question where his assistant and daughter went. So Namjoon, being the best friend he was, jumped from group to group randomly with the older man and introduced potential collaborations and basically made more money and network. Blah, blah, blah.

Though Namjoon was an extrovert, he was exhausted from all that work. You owed him big time. He stood silently and a bit sluggish while your father said goodbyes to the attendees.

After thanking a pair and seeing them off, Jungwoo sighed and looked over at the taller young man. “Tired, son?”

“Yes, sir.” Namjoon mumbled, nodding. “Met a lot of people, some of them caught me by surprise.”

“Well, KimBamBap is a highly-acclaimed business.” Your father reasoned. “Though you didn’t need to tell that to an oil company, or trading company, or the secretary of the ambassador of Mongolia.”

“Good network…”

“Yes that, or you’re helping to hide my daughter’s relationship with my assistant.”

Namjoon swore he never had a bigger whiplash than he did right now. His pupils dilated at your nonchalant father grinning at another round of invitees departing. He said it in a way of all-knowing.

“Uhh, s-sir. I don’t th—”

“Namjoon, don’t gaslight me. I’ve been knew!” Your father laughed. “Jimin is not that slick. Boy forgot that his laptop’s background is literally of them two. Not to mention his laptop connects to his phone which also connects with his messages.”

“But—”

“I think I have a hunch of who Doll of My Life ___ is too.”

Namjoon gave up. Well, so much for covering for you all this time. It was thrown into the trash. Though he expected the older to be upset or disappointed, maybe at least for the entire secrecy, the CEO was rather lax.

Namjoon cleared his throat, “So you know…and you’re not mad?”

“Nonsense, I love Jimin. He has a good head on his shoulders, kind, gentle, and I do believe he’s the perfect man for my ___.” Jungwoo snorted, rolling his eyes as he listed down loves for his assistant.

Yet Namjoon was still incredulous. “Sir, then why haven’t you said anything?” It would have saved so much trouble and finally put your relationship out there for your families to see. Then your father eyed the younger tightly with a lifted brow. 

“Just waiting until those idiots to tell me.”

A/N: After writing this I realized, I’m rusty on PWPs! Because I don’t write smut as often and I LIVE FOR PLOTS

All rights reserved for ©️ icedmatchatae 2022 (｡●́‿●̀｡)

[my-mummy-dust]

Help writing like, you need an idea? If so, I submit for your approval a request for a little sumptin sumptin...shy Copia meets new shy sister of sin who happens to share his love of rats? (She has one as a pet)

Them Rats

Word count: 801 Warnings: none, just a flustered sister and sweet Papa Copia

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

The rain pelted on the church windows. The halls were completely silent aside from the rain and the clacking of shoes on the stone floor, and your confused mumbles. You were the newest sister of sin, and now you were lost in the large, old church. You were on your way to Sister Imperators office as you ordered more rat food and she picked it up for you. since you had been busy unpacking for most of last week, you really haven't had much time to do anything else; between the tours of the church, going over basic protocol, and getting to know the ghouls and other sisters of sin- spare time for you was few and far between. You were looking at a crumpled piece of faded paper you sighed, leaning against the wall and shoving the piece of paper in your pocket you stared out the window; zoning out at the rain, once again being consumed by your busy thoughts of all the other things you have to do.

“Eh-you’re the new sister, si? I have not met you yet.”

You heard a thick Italian accent behind you. You turned to see who it was, it was the new papa you had only heard about. You knew it was rare for a sister of sin who wasnt assigned to help him to just- see him. You immediately thought of at least 10 sisters who would kill to see Papa.

“O-oh Papa,-“ you bowed out of respect, remembering that Sister Imperator mentioned that once before. “Yes…that’s me, i guess we haven't met yet- n-nice to meet you. can I help you with…anything?”

you held your hand out to shake. he gently shook your hand and gently kissed the top of it before letting it go. you noted his leather gloves and the way the church's silver symbol glinted in the dim lighting of the halls.

“Gratzie, sorella, but I’m alright. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Seestor mentioned there was someone new. Anyways, I noticed that you just look a bit…eh…lost?”

He raised a brow, somehow looking just as confused as you were. You nodded, finally admitting defeat.

“I'm trying to find Sister Imperators office…to pick something up..”

You admitted tiredly, ashamed that this was his first impression of you.

“Oh my Satanas, how did you end up here? Her office is on the other side of the building….May I see the map you were using?”

You nodded once more and pulled out the crumpled, faded piece of paper and tried to smooth it as best as you could, and handed it to him.

“Sorella, i'm afraid you were looking at it backwards…”

You felt your face getting red and hot, and you heard your heartbeat in your head. You reached for the paper with a shaky hand and shoved it back in your pocket. You looked back at papa and he was…smiling? And now he was laughing a little?

“S-sorry….Papa, I’m not very good with directions…again, I’m sorry, don’t waste your time with me, I’ll find my way there eventually..”

“No no-! I insist, I have nothing planned for the next hour so I have time to spare, please sister, come this way”

He started walking and you followed him, stalking just a few steps behind him. He slowed down to walk next to you, And after a few minutes of silence, the rain on the windows and the sound of your shoes clicking on the stone floor he finally spoke. His accent is a little lighter, but still very prominent.

“May I ask why you’re making your way to seestors office? The only time anyone rushes there like you are is when they are in trouble….not that I am speaking from experience…..heh”

“Oh I’m uh….picking something up..for my pet”

“Ah! A pet, who is the little guy?”

“His name is McCheesy…he’s my pet rat”

His eyes lit up like the night sky on the Fourth of July. He started to smile a large, goofy smile but he stopped himself. He walked a little faster and you had to speed up to keep with him.

“You have a rat! Oh meraviglioso! semplicemente meraviglioso!* I love rats! I have quite a few myself! Would you like to meet them after this? They’d love to meet you! You could bring what was it- McCheesy? Never mind that, you could bring him and they could meet! Only if you’re alright with that of course…am I talking too much? I’m talking too much…sorry…ahem..”

At first he was talking a thousand miles a minute, then at the end he trailed off. You smiled and felt all warm and fuzzy inside at the excitement of the man that you had only seen all serious, and seemingly cold. But now, he was like a little kid who was told they could get whatever they wanted at the store.

“No no, it’s alright! Is love that, what are your rats names? How many rats do you have?”

He went on the whole rest of the walk to seestor's office, and once you got the food for your rat he talked about his rat children on the walk back to your room. He went on about how each of them had a personality, what they liked and didn’t like. He talked about his rats like they were his family. You did end up bringing your rat to meet all of his. You spent the rest of the evening sitting on the floor of his room with him across from you, introducing you to his rats for a second time. The rats seemed to love McCheesy! And Copia seemed to love you as much as they did... -Fin

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

* Translates (roughly) to: Wonderful! Just wonderful! Or Marvelous! Just wonderful! 

I hope you liked reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! Thank you for the request! i haven't written anything in a while so it's not the best but i'm happy with how it turned out! sorry for any spelling/grammar errors

-♥️🐀

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

You Sent for Me, My Lady? (An Alcina x Maiden Fanfic)

Part 2

Warning: NSFW

You are just biting into the edge of your toast when you hear a bell ring. You instinctively look up, as do all the servants in the dining hall, wondering what next task would be sent for them. You see the bell under the plaque denoting the Countess’s Chambers ring insistently. You sigh. You had rather hoped you would be able to finish your breakfast before dressing the Lady for the day, but she was on a rather tight schedule. “Well, that’s me, I suppose,” you say to your fellow servants as you wipe the corner of your mouth of any leftover crumbs. “I’ll be off then.”

As you climb back up the stairs to the door that separates the servants quarters from the main hall, your cheeks flood with color as you recall the events from the night before. You had just finished brushing Alcina’s hair for the evening, the customary 100 strokes before bed. As you replaced the silver-back brush in front of the mirror, you happened to catch Alcina’s reflection.

Even after countless nights of dressing her and undressing her as her Lady’s Maid, her beauty still struck you as soundly as it did the first time you met her. Fathomless golden eyes framed by long lashes stared back at you from the looking glass. Her lips were deep crimson, laugh lines like accent marks dotting the corner of her lips. Up close you could see the flaws in her foundation, cracks lining her alabaster skin, moving up into her hairline and down the swell of her full breasts.

Alcina had caught you staring. Her eyebrow quirked up and she gave you an amused smile. “See anything you like, dear?” she teased.

You felt your face grow hot. “P-please pardon my rudeness, your Ladyship,” you sputtered. “I didn’t mean to stare. Is- is there anything else I can help you with, my Lady?”

“No.” She turned from the mirror to face you and you blushed further at the intensity of her expression. She gave you a considering look. “But perhaps,” she purred as she moved the hem of her nightown to expose her gartered leg. “There is something I can help you with, pet.” She took your small hand in her larger one and set it against her thigh.

Suddenly Alcina had swept you in her arms and you were in her lap, your legs straddling her wide hips. Your face was cupped between her hands and she was kissing you fiercely, her fingers weaving themselves in your hair, knocking it out of its tight bun. Your cap fell off and rolled under the vanity, forgotten. Alcina took a couple strands of your hair, now loose and falling past your shoulders and inhaled deeply. “What lovely hair you have, my dear,” Alcina said, twirling a loose lock between her fingers. “Such a shame you have to keep it hidden while working, but needs must, I suppose.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were not used to such compliments coming from your Lady. You hardly stammered out a thank you before Alcina’s mouth was on yours again, her lips moving hungrily against yours. She took off one hand that was holding the side of your head and glided it up your skirt. She caught your bottom lip in between her fangs, and you couldn’t help but moan into her mouth as she worked to unhook your garter. You felt your core heaten up in anticipation.

She shifted you around so you were facing the mirror. You started as you saw your reflection for the first time since being in Alcina’s arms. Your hair was disheveled, your kiss-swollen lips were smeared all over with Lady Dimitrescu’s lipstick, and your face was flushed bright red. She began kissing the sensitive nape of your neck and you felt a pleasant shiver go up your spine. “Would- would you not rather take this to bed, my Lady?” you stammered.

“Actually, I would rather stay here if you don’t mind, pet,” Alcina purred. “I rather like the view it affords us.” She wrapped her thumb and forefinger around your neck and began undoing the buttons of your collar, bending her dark head to kiss each new spot she uncovered. Before long, your neck and upper chest were covered with lipstick stains and hickeys. You could feel her nipples harden through the thin material of her nightgown as she saw your arousal dripping down your leg.

Alcina moved her hand down the front of your open dress to cup your breast. As she stroked her finger around your areola, you felt your nipples harden at the stimulation. You leant your head back against her ample bosom and were hardly able to suppress the sigh that escaped your lips. She caught your expression of bliss in the mirror and flashed you a manic grin before slipping two of her fingers into your core.

You gasped as her fingers started to move rhythmically inside you. Your hips began to rise and fall in Alcina’s lap as you rode her fingers. You caught a glimpse of your reflection and your hair was plastered to your forehead with sweat. You’d bitten your lip and blood had started running from the corner of your mouth. You started to feel self-conscious and began to turn away.

Alcina turned your face back to the mirror, gently but firmly. “No need to be bashful, pet,” Alcina said, quickening the pace of her fingers. “I want you to see your expression when I make you experience le petites mortes.”

Your hips bucked as Alcina quickened her pace. They could hardly keep up with the movements of her fingers. You could feel your orgasm building. “Your-your Ladyship, please!” you cried out as Alcina grabbed a fistful of your hair and held you close to the mirror. “Please! I’m so close!”

“Now, Y/N,” Alcina chuckled as she stroked your sweaty cheek. “I think the time for formalities has passed, don’t you? Say my name.”

“L-Lady Alcina!”

“No.” She moved her head closer and you felt her breath hot on your neck as she hissed in your ear, her curls tickling your cheeks. “Say my true name or I will not let you cum.”

“Alcina!”

“Again,” she said, pressing another lingering kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Alcina!”

“Louder, pet!”

You threw back your head against Aclina’s chest, crying out her name as you felt the release of your orgasm. Your climax spilled onto Alcina’s hands and into the lap of her nightgown. Exhausted, you settled back against her, breathing hard, your body trembling from the aftershocks of your climax.

She pressed a kiss to the top of your curls and tucked your head underneath her chin. “Did you like that, my pet?’ Alcina purred.

You nodded soundlessly and glanced down at her soiled nightgown. “Er-sorry about the mess, my Lady.”

Alcina chuckled at that. “Never mind, darling, it’ll wash out. Now you’d better get back downstairs before Mrs. Fischer misses you.”

You couldn’t help but feel a stab of disappointment at not being asked to stay, but what else did you expect? Alcina helped you stand up and she took out a handkerchief and tenderly wiped any traces of her lipstick off your face and chest. She glanced down at the love bites trailing down your neck and into your dress front. “Nothing we can do about those for now, I’m afraid,” she said, flashing you an apologetic smile. “They should fade in time. It’ll be so dark now, no one will notice. Now off you go.”

You nodded again and with a brief curtsy left Alcina’s bedchambers.

Now heading back in the same direction this morning you feel your heart pounding at the thought of seeing her again. You couldn’t sleep at all the previous night because every time you closed your eyes you felt her lips hot against yours and her fingers filling your walls. You ached for her to touch you again.

You open the door and you see her in her slip sitting before the mirror applying her lipstick. She sees your reflection in the mirror and smiles. “Ah, Y/N! Come in. I’m almost ready for you.” She finishes putting on the last of her lipstick and she turns to face you. You’re struck by her staggering height and the thin material of her slip barely conceals the muscles in her powerful thighs. The slip is at a lower cut than her normal day dress, so more of her décolletage is on display.

She gives you a look. “Y/N? My dress, if you please?”

“Yes! Sorry Mistress!” You wrap her dress hanging on the armoire around your arm and pull over your stool to help her step into it. As you help her dress, you try to catch her eye looking for any sign, any remnant of last night, but none appears. Again, nothing unusual. It’s not like this is the first time Lady Dimitrescu has had a dalliance with a maiden. She’s had so many over the years it must be hard to keep track. It was one night of pure ecstasy, but it’s over now. It seems Alcina has already moved on.

After you attach the pin to her hat, your work is finished. She stands up and inspects her reflection in the mirror, looking at her magnificent body from different angles. “Thank you, Y/N, that should be all for now.”

“Very well, my Lady.” You give her a brief curtsy and turn to leave but she catches you from behind and wraps her strong arms around you. Her oleander and rose perfume is overwhelming. She must have just applied it before you came in. “Come back to my room tonight,” she growls in your ear, nipping it lightly with the tip of her fangs. “I gave you some assistance last night and tonight I’m rather curious to see what you can do to return the favor.”

You blush scarlet and nod your assent. “Good!” Alcina kisses the tip of your ear and gives you a playful swat on the behind. “Now off you go!”

You practically skip down the hallway as you head back down to the dining hall to finish your breakfast. You don’t know how you will be able to focus on your tasks for the rest of the day now. You simply can’t wait for tonight.

[all1e23]

Honey & Whiskey [Pt.4]

Pairings: Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

Summary:   Falling was sweeter than honey and warm as whiskey.

Warnings: None for this chapter. Typical A/B/O dynamics. or I should say my typical ABO dynamics. Disgusting sweet fluff. That’s a warning right?

A/N:  Nearly a year later and we have an update! I am slowly getting back into writing. Or at least I hope I am. Fingers crossed I have a Christmas mini-series for everyone soon. For now, enjoy some sweet Billy. This is largely a self-indulgent fic and mostly for my pizza love and beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​​​​​. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

The simple garden wedding was anything but modest and intimate like the invitation said. However; it was beautiful. Decadent and dripping in opulence. Everything you expected from a wedding in your parent’s world. Everything they expected from you, too. They must have spent ten grand on the florist alone. At least. The deep red roses played well off the black backdrop and the bits of silver accents sparkled against the deeper tones. You had a feeling the price tag for this little shindig was way beyond something you could ever afford on your own. The cost of the venue rental alone was more than you made in an entire year. Okay, so you Googled before you came! It wasn’t being nosy. You simply wanted to be prepared for the evening and you were a little nosy. 

You were just grateful you had something nice enough to wear to an event like this. When you left James, you were able to take anything you had at his place. He was relieved it seemed like. Grateful and ready to accommodate whatever you wanted. The dress you were wearing was one of the few non-thrift store finds you had left in your closet. Most of the more expensive items James and your parents gave you, you were forced to sell to pay for food and bills. Right now, standing on the balcony among Brooklyn’s high society, you were thankful you kept it. 

Out of the corner of your eyes you caught Billy’s hand reaching up to adjust his tie for the tenth time, roughly tugging at his collar and adjusting his jacket yet again. At least you recognized some friendly face amongst the sea of Chanel, Billy didn’t know anyone and that had to add to his nerves. Not to mention meeting your parents for the first time. The parents he’s heard several stores about, ones that didn’t always show them in the best light. When he reached up to adjust his tie again you stepped in front of him, forcing him to turn his attention to you and not all the people staring at them with eager curiosity. 

“Quit fidgeting,” you scold, gently and full of warmth. Smiling as you adjust the dark blue bowtie Billy was wearing. He wore that because you told him it made him look handsome. The thought made you smile as you smoothed your hands down the pale blue dress shirt and adjusted the black jacket. 

“You look very handsome, Al-” You paused for a split second and quickly corrected yourself.  “Billy.”

The air quickly turned thick and the goosebumps on your arms were more from your embarrassing slip of the tongue than the chill of the breeze. Billy nudged your chin up with the tips of his index and middle finger. 

“You can say it. When you're ready to, you can say it.” 

You wanted to. Oh, how you wanted to say it. You were desperate to call him yours and make all of this official, but you weren’t sure this was the right time to make that declaration. Especially considering you were about to attend the wedding ceremony of your ex-alpha. No, this wasn’t the time or the place. If he was disappointed in you, he didn’t show it. He simply gave a pleased rumble and kissed your forehead. You hadn’t realized what made him so happy until you caught a hint of your scent and realized just how much he had sweetened in the last few moments. 

“No rush but don’t hold back because you’re worried about what I think. ‘Cause I’m dying to hear you say it, sunshine.”

You dropped your head to hide the size of your smile. 

“I have a feeling it would sound real sweet coming from your pretty lips.”

Billy grinned and held his arm out, waiting until you slipped your arm in his. You walked through the crowd to find your seats, choosing to stick to the back row. You didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to the two of you. At least this way if people wanted to be rude and stare, they would have to be obvious about it. You watched as James walked towards the wedding arch, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen him and it made you relax. You did what was right for you both. 

“So that's him?”

You nodded. 

Billy hummed next to you and shifted in his chair. It wasn’t the same pleased noise you heard a moment ago. It was tight, inquisitive perhaps. You glanced at him but Billy kept his eyes forward. He was looking at James as if he was taking stock of everything the Alpha was or could be, everything James could offer you and the ways he could care for you that Billy couldn’t. Billy was pulling James apart in his head and you wanted to lean over and smooth out the wrinkles in forehead, kiss away the worries and fears you knew he was building up. He knew why you left. The reasons you left James. He knew all about the things you should have felt but didn’t. You felt them with Billy though.

“Bit of a pretty boy, isn't he? The hair and all that.”

You’ve seen pictures of Billy before his accident, before the Marines and the scars. Not that it mattered, he was the most handsome Alpha in attendance, but the comment about James’s hair had you grinning. There was a little bit of jealousy souring his words and you understood. That was nearly you up there– white gown, veil and all. You leaned over and pressed your lips to his cheek, tucking your nose into his neck nuzzling under his ear, only long enough to catch his whiskey scent thicken in a way that had your thighs pressing together. 

“Funny,” you whispered into his ear. “May calls you my pretty boy. Pretty or not. He’s not you.” 

It took a second for your words to settle, but once they did, a slow smile stretched across his face and he brought your hand up to his lips placing a gentle kiss on your wrist just missing the scent glands that rested there. You wished you could tell him how different things were. It was a forced match with James. One that didn’t work on either side and it was nothing close to what you felt for Billy. It was a friendship turned partnership. Most Omegas would have loved to find that arrangement. A handsome, kind Alpha that treated you fairly. It wasn’t enough for you. It wasn’t love and it wasn’t anything like what was happening between you and Billy. You never touched like this, there were no hidden glances or quiet playful whispers. He certainly never kissed your skin the way Billy just had. After the ceremony you would tell him. You would make sure he knew. 

You turned back around to see the red-haired woman taking James’s hands, just in time to catch your parents watching from a few rows in front of you and it left you with an uneasy feeling. Judging by the way Billy’s scent soured, it felt him with the same feeling.

______________

The ceremony was sweet. Shockingly so. James cried and promised to love her for the rest of his life and whatever life comes after this one. That was all you wanted for him. Someone he felt that strongly about and you were happy he found someone that made his heart ache in the best way. The way Billy made yours ache. Thankfully, no one had approached you and made any hideous comments like you had been expecting. You thought with an open bar for happy hour, things were going to be uncomfortable, but everyone was friendly and welcoming. Seeing who was heading your way, you should have known better than to jinx it. You quickly step in front of Billy and grip onto the lapels of his jacket. Billy is grinning at you, looking a little confused.

“Okay,” You told him quietly. “My parents are walking this way.” 

Billy’s eyes leave yours only long enough to catch sight of your mother and father walking towards you. The same couple he spotted staring at you both the entire ceremony. 

“They aren’t the nicest people. I just–” Billy slipped his arm around your waist and shook his head, he didn’t like the way your voice trembled just then. You felt his grip on your waist tighten ever so slightly and he quietly whispered in your ear as they approached, “I won’t let anyone treat you badly. Parents or not.” 

“Well, well,” Your father already had disappointment dripping from his words and he barely spoke. “I didn’t know if you would come, but it is nice to see you.” His eyes flicked to Billy and he squared his shoulders, “And, I see you brought someone with you. You know it’s rude to not introduce us, pumpkin.” 

You tensed at the nickname, but the soft brush of Billy’s thumb on your arm made you relax a fraction. “Right,” you grumbled. “Of course. Mom. Dad. This is Billy. He’s my…”

Billy looked at you, his brow raised and there was a ghost of a smirk turning up his lip as he waited to hear what you would say. It made your heart jump but you knew he was desperately trying to keep that smile from your parents and that made you grin.

“He’s my Alpha. Billy Russo.” 

It took everything he had not to whisk you up and leave. You could see the fire it sparked in his eyes and feel it in the way his hand tightened around your waist. 

“Mrs. L/N. Mr. L/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

You didn’t miss the underlying tone in Billy’s voice, the warning that he heard plenty and he wouldn’t let them do or say anything to make you uncomfortable. You settled against his side and Billy pressed a kiss to your temple, assuring you he was okay and so were you. 

“Did you see George and Winnie? You haven’t seen them since the incident.” Your head whipped around to where your father was gesturing and your stomach twisted with guilt. They have always been so nice to you. After James proposed Winnie went out of her way to bring you into the family and you spat in her face. As far as in laws went, you couldn’t have asked for any better. Your father sighed and held out his arm for you to take. “Come on, I’ll walk you over. You should at least say hello after everything you put them through.” 

Billy’s grip tightened on your hip and you knew he was seconds away from telling your father to go to hell. That was the last thing you wanted. There was no need to cause a scene and ruin a perfectly good night. Besides, he wasn’t entirely wrong. You did owe them an apology. “You’re right. I should apologize. They deserved to hear it from me.” You kissed Billy’s cheek and whispered in his ear, “I’ll be right back, okay?” 

You wished Billy could escort you over. It would make you feel better to have him by your side, holding your hand, but that would be disrespectful. How would it look to apologize with your new Alpha on your arm? Well, soon-to-be Alpha. Or, at least hoped. 

Billy watched as you walked away, shifting from foot to foot. He didn’t like to be this far away from you. It was a larger crowd than he was used to and he knew you weren’t surrounded by the kindest people at the moment. He kept his eyes locked on you as he watched an older couple embrace you warmly. He relaxed a fraction when he saw the smile on your face, the little scrunch of your nose that started when you began to laugh. 

“Well,” your mother’s voice caught his attention and he turned to look at her, “You certainly lucked out with my daughter, didn’t you?” 

Billy wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but the tone in her voice had his hackles raised. Was she implying he was using you? Using you for what exactly? They had cut you off from everything. They refused to help you even when you were starving, barely acknowledging your existence. So, outside of your company Billy wasn’t sure what he could possibly be using you for. 

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Your mother scoffed quietly into the glass of champagne hovering by her lips, draining it before setting it on the table in front of him. His eyes dropped to the glass and it was clear what she was doing; establishing his place. Regardless of who he was there with, he was the help as far as she was concerned. He was beneath her, and more importantly, he was beneath you. “You should know better than trying to fit into this world. Her world. Y/n might be playing in your world, but this is where she belongs. It’s only a matter of time before she comes back and we both know you will never belong here. I hope you make the right choice before you both end up hurt.” 

Billy didn’t respond to her comments before she walked away. He was focused on the ringing in his ears and the pain filling his chest. He searched the crowd for you, you were no longer with the older couple. There were several women that looked to be about your age surrounding you and you were laughing like he’d never seen before, hard enough to bring tears to your eyes and doubled over from the force of it. You looked up in time to catch him staring and your entire face lit up the second your eyes locked with his. You looked happy. Connecting with your old friends and family. You fit right in here. It looked like you belonged and that hurt him more than he was willing to admit. 

Billy glanced to his left and to his right, he was alone by the bar. On any other day, he would be grateful. Crowds like this left him feeling out of control and uneasy, but this was different. He wanted to fit in. For you. He wanted to be good enough for you, but it was becoming very clear he never would be and it was only a matter of time before you realized it, too. 

Previous  // Next

[ladylynse]

Dimensional Displacement [FFN | AO3]: Danny has a love-hate relationship with the Fenton Booo-merang. This time, it didn’t do him any favours. This time, it knocked him through a portal—and from what he can glean from the Water Tribe siblings he meets, odds are, there’s a reason for that.

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For @geronimo-alonzi as a thank you for donating to my ko-fi. (Yes, they won my fic giveaway, but I finished this one first.) Loosely based on this three sentence fic.

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Danny had been clobbered in the head by the Fenton Booo-merang more often than he’d like to admit, let alone count, but this was the first time it had knocked him through a portal.

That wouldn’t have been a particularly bad thing if the portal hadn’t immediately closed behind him.

One minute, he’d been minding his own business in the Ghost Zone, coming back from a visit with Frostbite that Jazz must have forgotten about if she’d sent the Booo-merang after him. (Sam was stuck with her parents at some fancy dinner party thing somewhere and Tucker was working on designing a computer game for his comp sci assignment, a class neither Sam nor Danny was in, so it had to have been Jazz.)

The next minute, Danny was…. He didn’t even know where he was. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He’d caught the Booo-merang before either he or it had hit the ground, but once he’d righted himself to look around, there was no familiar skyline or something equally useful to him. There were only trees and rocks and dirt roads as far as the eye could see, even from a considerable distance up in the air.

Well.

That wasn’t quite fair. He could see a silver river cutting through the trees in a path roughly parallel to the road, but in terms of helpful things, he was coming up empty.

He didn’t even know which direction he’d need to fly to get to a city. It was too light out to see any distant glow of city lights against the scattered clouds, and all he could smell when he breathed in was fresh air and pine needles and something else—moss? The general mix that was pretty much mulch on the forest floor?—that was decidedly natural, not the signs of human activity he’d been hoping for. Sure, following the road or even the river would get him somewhere sooner or later, but what was he supposed to do, pick a random direction or go eenie meenie minie moe?

Danny did another loop above the trees, looking for some sign of anything, and came up with nothing.

“Come on!” Danny yelled at the patch of blue sky where the portal had closed. He spun in a circle, the Booo-merang clutched tightly in his fist, but it didn’t pull in any direction, and he didn’t catch so much as a glimmer of the familiar green of the Ghost Zone. “Just open up again already!” It was as effective as he’d expected it to be, which was not at all, but screaming out his frustrations made him feel a bit better. “Now! Please?”

Unsurprisingly, the portal didn’t listen.

Out of appealing options, Danny threw the Booo-merang. Logically, he knew it wasn’t the Infi-Map. Logically, he knew that the universe did not often do what was convenient for him, even if he sometimes got incredibly lucky in a fight. Logically, he knew that the chances of the Booo-merang deciding to reprogram itself to find portals just because it had done it this one time (likely coincidentally) were slim to none.

Illogically, he didn’t expect the stupid thing to circle around and hit him in the back of the head again.

Danny cursed and landed to retrieve the fallen Booo-mang from the roadway, muttering under his breath about how much he’d like to just dismantle the thing and hide the pieces. He wouldn’t, of course. It worked too well to risk Sam, Tucker, and Jazz losing the ability to find him if they really needed to. It had been dicey enough the few times his parents had decided to try to ‘fix’ it, only for disaster (Vlad) to strike in the meantime.

That didn’t mean Danny couldn’t fantasize about bashing it against a rock, though. There were plenty of those around.

“That’s a weird looking boomerang,” someone said from behind him, and Danny nearly jumped into the air right there.

He didn’t, mostly because he was getting used to Sam and Tucker trying to surprise him, but it was a near thing.

He wasn’t used to people sneaking up on him. His ghost sense was reliable, Dash made more noise walking around than even Jack Fenton, and, well, most of the people who hunted him couldn’t be subtle if they tried, especially since a good chunk of them liked hearing their own voice. He’d only ever really had to worry about Jazz, and self-preservation in the face of tickle attacks had given him the ability to be extra sensitive to her presence whenever she was in a certain mood.

The two who’d caught him by surprise now must have come from the trees on the other side of the road, and he hoped that meant they hadn’t seen him do anything particularly ghostly. Granted, neither of them was screaming, so he should be safe. They didn’t look terrified, either. Wary, maybe, but not scared.

Danny guessed that they were both somewhere around his age. Siblings, by the looks of them, but probably not twins even if they’d both decided to leave the house wearing oddly styled blue clothes today, at least compared to the usual jeans and T-shirt combo Danny was used to seeing. Unless he wasn’t anywhere near the States anymore? Or unless he’d been flung through to a different time. But the boy had spoken English, and it hadn’t sounded funny to Danny’s ears, no lilt of a foreign accent or strange phrasing that he associated with Shakespeare or something.

The girl was his height, the boy a bit taller, and they were both staring at him.

They probably thought he was the one who was dressed strangely.

The boy pointed. “Your boomerang,” he repeated. “It looks weird.”

The girl elbowed him in the gut—none too gently, judging by his immediate wheeze—and hissed, “Sokka!”

Yeah, those two were definitely siblings. And even if the girl wasn’t older, she definitely had the annoying (and annoyed) sister tone down pat. Danny had heard (and been on the receiving end of) the same from similar exchanges with Jazz more than once.

“Sokka’s going to apologize, right, Sokka?”

The boy frowned and then threw up his hands. “Right. I apologize for saying your boomerang looks weird. It looks interesting.”

The girl stepped on his foot, and he yelped. “What was that for?”

“You know what that was for!”

“It’s fine,” Danny said. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Maybe the portal had dumped him out in the middle of some historical re-enactment thing. Granted, there should really be more people around if that were the case—or at least hidden cameras. He was better at spotting them now. Vlad and his creepy spy tendencies aside, Danny had gotten good at noticing (and avoiding) cameras so he didn’t let his secret get caught on tape. (There were a surprising number of places in Amity Park not under video surveillance, or at least not under real video surveillance even if they had fake cameras out; he could practically transform in the middle of the street sometimes.)

Still, nothing about this felt staged. It didn’t even feel like one of his enemy’s tricks, some giant setup that was meant to trap him or whatever. That’s not to say Danny was wholly convinced this meeting, whatever it was, was merely chance—he didn’t particularly trust Clockwork not to arrange things as he saw fit without warning anyone—but it didn’t feel overly contrived, either. There was just….

Something felt off, and he couldn’t explain what it was.

“It’s fine,” Danny repeated, since the two were looking at him dubiously, but the familiar phrase felt strange on his tongue, almost like—

Wait.

“Okay, this is going to sound like a weird question, but where are we?”

The boy, Sokka, blinked. “Did you hit your head or something? We’re in the Earth Kingdom. Or, wait, do you mean where in the Earth Kingdom? Look, if you need new supplies, there’s not much in the last few villages, but we’re about a day from—”

The girl elbowed him again, and he fell silent. Danny could see the growing suspicion on her face for what it was, could see suspicion settling on the boy’s face as well, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d asked the wrong question or because he’d asked something at all. He’d been paying attention this time, watching Sokka’s lips, and Danny didn’t have to be a good lip reader to know that he hadn’t been saying the words Danny had heard.

Well.

More accurately, he hadn’t been saying them in English.

And Danny, in answering, had somehow not been speaking English.

That was not, as far as Danny was aware, something Clockwork could do to him.

He didn’t know a ghost who had power over language, though, unless the Ghostwriter had something else up his sleeve and this mess was it. Nocturne would be able to pull anything in a dream, but Danny couldn’t see why he’d bother including something that would be an obvious tell like this, so it shouldn’t be him even if he had decided to come back. More likely, it was someone he hadn’t fought before, someone who had targeted him, seen an opportunity when the Booo-merang had hit him and seized upon it to throw him…here.

Wherever here was.

The Earth Kingdom, apparently.

“Um.” The girl still looked like she expected him to start fighting, and her stance…. Danny didn’t recognize it, but he did know that she looked ready to move at any moment. Her brother had taken her cue and, while Danny hadn’t been paying attention, pulled out a boomerang of his own. That couldn’t be good. “Look. I know how this sounds.” How he sounded, more like. If he had some accent he couldn’t hear because he wasn’t speaking their language properly, whatever it was, this had to be a setup after all.

Someone had sent him here to be dealt with. By this world, this dimension or construct or whatever it was, if not necessarily by these two people.

Granted, Danny wasn’t sure why someone would go to the trouble of letting him understand and be understood in the first place if that were the case, since he could get in just as much trouble without speaking the native language.

Surely he wasn’t actually supposed to help someone here, right? This wasn’t even his world. Or the Ghost Zone. Whatever was going on here was most definitely not his business.

Except now he was in the middle of it, so if there was something going on, it would be beneficial to find out what it was sooner rather than later.

This wasn’t some Jumanji kind of thing where he’d been tossed into a game and had to do whatever it was to get out again, was it? It didn’t feel like the time he’d gone into Doomed, but that had been intentional, and this….

Okay, no, he didn’t have enough information to speculate, which meant he needed to get some information out of these two in order to get somewhere. “I just…. I was kidnapped and dumped here for some reason, and I’m trying to find my way home.” That was close enough to the truth that it shouldn’t raise any red flags. Hopefully. “My name is Danny.” Introducing himself as Phantom, even in ghost mode, wasn’t something he wanted to do when he had no idea how these people felt about ghosts. Besides, it wasn’t like they’d ever see him as Fenton. He just needed to stick to the ground and pretend to be a normal human being, which he could most definitely do—at least when the sun was bright enough that his slight glow was basically nonexistent. He doubted it would be terribly noticeable even under the cover of trees.

“Danny,” the girl repeated, not relaxing her stance. “That’s an unusual name.”

Sokka just cocked his head at Danny. “Why would anyone kidnap you?”

It was spoken like it was an innocent, thoughtless question, something that could be brushed away with a laugh, but Danny could read an underlying tension in each of their faces. Sokka was waiting on his answer, and so was his sister. Danny’s response might very well determine what happened next.

Consequently, Danny didn’t miss the fact that Sokka didn’t offer up any potential explanations that he could jump on.

Another lie wasn’t going to do him any favours, not when he knew so little. “I don’t know.” He could guess, but he didn’t know. From the looks of it, though, these two wouldn’t be satisfied with that. Chances were good they wouldn’t be particularly satisfied with his suspicions, either, which was that someone wanted him out of the way for whatever they were planning—or maybe that someone had decided they wanted to have a little fun with him at his expense, if world domination wasn’t on the table. “My parents are inventors. Maybe that’s why?”

“That doesn’t explain why whoever took you would leave you here,” Sokka pointed out, and Danny wished these two weren’t so smart. “If you were taken because you were valuable, you wouldn’t have been left behind unguarded.”

“So maybe they kidnapped the wrong person and realized that I wasn’t who they wanted?”

Sokka exchanged glances with his sister before murmuring, “We can ask Toph. I mean, it’s possible they found us, but if he is really a Fire Nation plant picked solely for his eye colour, they’d have at least dyed his hair and given him some normal clothes.”

Danny decided not to ask who the heck picked people for something based on eye colour and not skill or merit or experience or something normal like that. Aside from derailing the conversation from anything potentially useful, Danny was pretty sure Sokka hadn’t realized he’d been overheard, and it wouldn’t be in Danny’s best interests to let them know how good his hearing was.

Still, he took the opportunity to tuck away the Booo-merang before they could ask any questions about it that he wasn’t up to answering. Maybe it would make him seem like less of a threat if they didn’t think he was ready to use it as a weapon—not that he knew how to use a boomerang as a weapon, but he was pretty sure Sokka hadn’t pulled his out to see which of them could throw it farther or throw it properly—and maybe then they’d trust him enough to answer his questions. Hopefully. He was perfectly willing to meet this Toph if it meant figuring out where he was and how to get home, especially since it would be easy enough for him to cut and run later.

The movement was enough to draw the attention of the siblings, though, and both pairs of eyebrows rose. Had they not expected him to make what he hoped would be taken as a gesture of trust or were they wondering how the heck he’d gotten it into his pocket? Maybe they thought he was trying to hide it, which wouldn’t help matters at all. Then again, if they thought that he thought it had been a subtle move, then maybe—

No.

He had to stop doing this. He didn’t know enough about these two to try to guess their thoughts, let alone what actions they might take against him.

Danny shifted on his feet, glad they hadn’t jumped to attacking and that they weren’t even asking questions about the Booo-merang, since practically anything about it would be difficult to answer. At least they hadn’t seen him flying. Even for people familiar with ghosts, unknown ones tended to be cause for concern until their threat level was assessed, and Danny didn’t want to invite trouble and immediately find out what this world had that messed with ghosts. Sure, he wanted to know what could hurt him here, but finding out while it wasn’t actively being used against him was infinitely preferable.

“Where did you say you were from?” the girl asked after a beat, even though they all knew he’d never said anything about that.

“Nowhere you would know,” he hedged, which was true enough.

“We travel a lot,” the girl said, and her brother snorted.

“What Katara means is, try us. If we can help you get back to your family, what do you have to lose?” Sokka offered Danny a grin, and his stance had visibly relaxed, even if he hadn’t put his boomerang away. It might be just for show, especially since he still had a weapon out, but at least the girl hadn’t drawn any knives or something like that. “Look, from one guy to another, you don’t need to make up some crazy story if you’re a runaway or something like that. We’re basically runaways.”

“We’re running towards something, not away from it.”

“We were almost runaways.” To Danny, Sokka added, “Gran caught us, but she let us go.”

Katara rolled her eyes, and Danny looked between the two of them as Sokka continued talking. It was obvious that they’d changed tack for some reason, no doubt trying to get him to trust them, but the blatant switch made him uneasy. Did they not realize how obvious that was or was this just their usual dynamic?

“I’m from Amity,” Danny eventually interrupted. He knew from the way that they were looking at him that neither of them had forgotten he had yet to answer the question. He’d already told them they wouldn’t know the place, so technically he could’ve said Amity Park, but for all he knew, these two had been sent to get information out of him, and the less he told a potential enemy, the better.

Come to think of it, maybe he shouldn’t have told them his real name, and maybe he should’ve just made up a village name rather than dropping heavy hints about his hometown.

“Which is near—?”

Danny ignored Sokka’s prompt. He didn’t even have a good enough idea of the geography of this place to make that up, especially when there was a chance they knew the area, runaways or no. “Do you know where I could get some water? I haven’t found any since I woke up.” That wasn’t true, but they wouldn’t know that unless they were getting some more intel about him from someone unseen.

The siblings looked at each other again, and then Katara faced him and said, “We’re headed to the river. Come with us. You can get your water, and we can share our catch if we get anything.”

“Wait, I didn’t agree to share my meat!” Sokka exclaimed. Katara’s only answer was a dirty look, but it was enough to have Sokka subsiding into grumbles.

“I’m not hungry yet,” Danny said, which also strictly wasn’t true, but he knew he didn’t need to eat much.

“You might be hungry by the time we’re finished,” Katara said over Sokka’s griping.

Danny hesitated, trying to figure out how weird it would be if he made up some excuse not to go with them. What were the chances that this was a trap when he’d brought up the river—or at least water—before they had? It wasn’t that he thought they’d be able to take him out if it came to that, even if Jazz had more experience fighting normally than he did, since he typically relied a lot on his powers when he could.

These two might be better fighters than him—there were almost certainly better hunters, given how silently they could walk—but he’d always have something like intangibility in his back pocket if it came to it, and they wouldn’t. Still, when it came down to it, he wasn’t used to fighting humans. What if he didn’t pull his punches enough and seriously hurt one of them?

“You can tell us about Amity,” Katara added. “We’ve never been there.”

Danny really hoped that was true and that there wasn’t a place in this world called Amity that they knew well. Still, when they started walking, spreading out so he was always in sight and they never had their backs to him, even when they hit the trees on the other side of the road, he kept pace with them. “It’s pretty much like you’d expect.” Except for the ghosts. At least his ghost sense hadn’t gone off here. Yet. “This is probably the farthest I’ve ever travelled from home.” He couldn’t get much farther away than a completely different dimension that (probably) wasn’t as connected to his world as it was to the Ghost Zone, anyway—unless he counted when he’d time travelled, but he wasn’t about to bring that up.

Katara opened her mouth to ask another question, maybe to press him for details, so Danny cut her off. “What about you two?”

They looked at each other again. How many times were they going to do that? Hadn’t they already decided how far to trust him? Danny knew it wasn’t very far, but they’d clearly decided he wasn’t going to straight up attack them at this precise moment, so even if they didn’t tell him the whole truth—

Sokka gestured at their clothes. “We’re Water Tribe.”

He said it like it was obvious, like Danny should’ve known already, but of course it explained absolutely nothing.

“Southern Water Tribe,” Katara added unhelpfully, despite Sokka’s frown. “We wanted to see the world, and now we are.”

As cover stories went, it was better than Danny’s. Barely. “Right,” he said, wondering again why he’d been dumped in the path of these two. “It’s a nice world to see.”

Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say, because they were both looking at him like they’d expected him to say anything but that. “What?”

“There’s a war on, you’re supposedly kidnapped and dropped off somewhere in occupied territory without any of the proper paperwork, and the best you can come up with is it’s a nice world to see?” Sokka turned his incredulous look from Danny to Katara. “He cannot be Fire Nation. This kid is more sheltered than Toph was supposed to be.”

Danny, who had stumbled at the word war, kept walking and hoped they hadn’t noticed. If they had, maybe they’d think he’d tripped over a tree root or fallen branch or hole or something. They weren’t following a trail, so that was a perfectly reasonable explanation, right?

“It’s all right,” Katara said as she reached out to touch his arm, and, okay, from that gentle tone, which was a complete change from anything earlier, it must mean she had noticed, knew he hadn’t tripped over anything in the terrain, and—from how she was looking at him now—thought it wasn’t surprise that had tripped Danny up, either. “Trust me, I know what it’s like to be a little naïve until you have a chance to leave home for the first time, but unless you’re got a camp around here, you’re not prepared at all.”

Sokka finally put his boomerang away and smirked at Danny. “We at least left home with supplies.”

“Did you have to run without any warning?” Katara asked, giving her brother a pointed look.

“Oh, uh, kinda.” Danny winced, knowing that had to sound like a lie. “I…I didn’t really plan on leaving when I did. This just…happened.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow, but Katara said, “You don’t have to worry. We’re the last people who would turn you in to the Fire Nation.”

Right. So the Fire Nation were the bad guys, at least according to the Water Tribe and, if he was putting things together correctly, the Earth Kingdom, where they were. Meaning the Fire Nation had invaded the Earth Kingdom if this was occupied territory. Danny thought about asking why these two had come into occupied territory themselves and then decided he didn’t want to risk getting into a discussion that would show off how little he knew. If they had decided he was a runaway who knew practically nothing about the world, well, that worked in his favour.

“Thanks.” Danny wasn’t sure what else to say. “Why are you helping me, though? Won’t that put you in danger?” That had to be a fair question in this situation.

“We can’t help everyone,” Katara said quietly, “but we can help some people, even if it’s just a tiny bit. Sometimes, that has to be enough.”

Danny really didn’t know what to say to that, because she certainly wouldn’t understand if he said he knew the feeling, so he smiled weakly in thanks and let the conversation drop.

They were still watching him, but they were more subtle about it now, and it didn’t look like they were watching him more closely than they were watching everything else.

Being downgraded from a threat was a win, though. Danny hoped he didn’t do anything to mess it up.

“There’s no shame in being a refugee,” Sokka said after a moment. “Being from a richer family might’ve bought you an isolated childhood, but it wouldn’t guarantee your safety.”

“We won’t try to hold you for ransom if you tell us where you’re really from,” added Katara.

Danny glanced at her. “I said I was from Amity.”

“I could say I have a platypus bear as a pet,” Sokka interjected. “That doesn’t make it true.”

“We know what it’s like, thinking you understand the way things are and then realizing how little you know,” Katara said quietly. “It can be overwhelming.”

“And it would explain why you’re in your nightclothes,” Sokka said. He’d come in range of Katara’s fist, but he danced out of the way as she swung in his direction. He hadn’t even needed to look at her to know it was coming. “You didn’t know enough to keep your valuables hidden and got robbed your first night on your own, didn’t you?”

“I—” Danny knew it was an excuse for his ignorance being handed to him on a silver platter, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up with a lie like that when he knew so little. “These aren’t my pajamas,” he said instead. Let them believe what they wanted to believe; that would make his life easier. Even if it blew up in his face somehow, he could truthfully say he’d never said they were right.

They might be suspicious that he hadn’t outright denied it, but then again, he’d already told them something a lot closer to the truth.

“Uh huh.” Sokka glanced at Katara again, and she gave a slight shake her head that Danny didn’t understand.

“Let’s get you some food and water first,” Katara said. “Then we can see about finding you other supplies.”

Danny decided not to point out that they’d already told him it was slim pickings for supplies around here. Not that he had the money to pay for anything, but Sokka had already guessed that. Besides, they thought he was running around in his pjs.

Judging by the sour look on Sokka’s face, he’d evidently translated his sister’s words to mean that she wanted to give him some of their supplies, something Sokka clearly wasn’t sure he approved of.

Katara must have had similar thoughts on Sokka’s expression, since she murmured, “It’s this or bring him with us, and you know what’s safer.”

Katara might not have minded that Danny could overhear her last words, but Sokka closed the distance between them, pulling his sister farther away from Danny before hissing, “It’s not the only option, and you know it. We can’t afford to give away any of our supplies, and just because Toph can make sure he’s not coming in with the intention of stabbing us in the back, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t blab to anyone once he figures out who we’re travelling with. You know as well as I do that that wouldn’t take very long.”

“He’s just kid.”

“Technically, like Aang keeps reminding us, we’re just kids. Who very much cannot afford to so much as drop him off in the next village. Show him the river and teach him how to catch and cook his meals? Fine. Picking him up as a stray when he’s not bringing anything to the table? Not fine.”

“He’s lost.”

“So? He’s not hurt. He’s already in a better position than some refugees. He’ll survive until he can walk to the nearest settlement. Then he can try to get help from people who can actually give it.”

Katara bit her lip and slowed to a stop. “There’s something else.”

“What?”

Danny very much wanted to know the answer to that—what had Katara figured out?—but he tried not to react so they didn’t know he’d been listening in. He deliberately turned away and stared around the trees instead, a mix of deciduous and evergreen. He couldn’t pick out any specific types of trees—nothing distinctive like oak leaves that he could see—and, as far as he could tell, the woods were utterly devoid of critters. He had no idea if that was because this world wasn’t real or if it was simply because all the animals in the region had had warning of their coming and hidden accordingly.

Danny knew his disinterest wouldn’t be very convincing, but if he was lucky, they’d think he’d given up on trying to eavesdrop.

“There’s something…off about him. Not necessarily something wrong, but something different. I can’t…. When he asked about water, I wanted to make sure he wasn’t hiding any on him or nearby in case it was a trap, and— He didn’t feel the same as you or me. I can’t explain it. Toph might have a better idea than I do. Or…or Aang.” The last word was a barely audible whisper.

“You think this might be a spirit thing?” Sokka’s response was closer to a suppressed shriek than anything else, and Danny winced.

“I think he might be spirit touched,” Katara answered, and Sokka’s sharp inhalation was painfully audible. “I wasn’t good enough back then to notice anything about Yue, but—”

“Fine.” Sokka’s voice had gone flat. “I don’t want to shun someone and accidentally anger the spirits. I’ll teach him to fish. You go back and interrupt advanced earthbending practice and pick a meeting place, but make sure everyone’s packed in case this doesn’t go the way you think it’ll go.”

“I know to be careful.”

“We all know to be careful. Some of us just need more reminding than others.”

Katara didn’t say anything else, but she must have nodded or done something similar because Danny heard Sokka stalk back over to him. “Katara’s going back to talk to the rest of our group about what we might be able to spare,” he said as Danny turned back to face him, “and I’ll show you how to fish in the meantime. If you don’t catch anything, I’ll give you one of mine.”

Danny wasn’t about to admit that he’d overheard their entire conversation, so he smiled and said, “That sounds great, thanks.” It didn’t stop the uneasiness from settling in his gut, though. Sure, now he knew these people believed in ghosts, and Sokka’s response made it clear he didn’t want to get on their bad side, but Danny had no idea what being spirit touched meant. He didn’t know if that was seen as a good thing or a bad thing.

More to the point, if it was a bad thing, he didn’t know if these people had something suitable with which to attack spirit touched people, since if they did, chances were good that it would work on him.

He was not lucky enough to get a free pass here.

Still, the odds were good that he’d be able to escape if they did attack since he’d know to be on watch for something, and he wasn’t about to turn down an offer of food. He had no idea when a portal would open and he’d be able to go home. Until then, the best he could do was survive.

He’d survived this much, and his life had hardly been a walk in the park since the accident, let alone before. He wasn’t about to let some ghost fling him into an unknown world and succeed in taking him down. He needed to get out of this to kick their butt and prove to them that they couldn’t get rid of him that easily.

Assuming this wasn’t all a series of genuine coincidences and not the result of the careful manipulation of events.

Danny didn’t want to think about that, though.

He had a much better chance of getting home if there was someone he could beat, and he was going to get home.

Somehow.

(see more fics)

[burnedbyshoto]

arrière-pensée

— When you start a new job, you never thought you would come face with Most Wanted Ground Zero who decides that you’re going to help him make a point.

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, robbery kink, consented noncon, public sex, exhibitionism, degradation, spanking, slight gunplay, sadist bakugou, machoist reader, blow job, character death, murder, blood, gun violence, knife violence

word count: 8,550

a/n: literally fuck me. I super fucking liked this prompt had clearly had too much fun because this was not supposed to be a long fic. anyways, I hope you like the idea of big bad evil bakugou fucking you to make a point. also, just trust me on the details on y/n I make, please. make sure to comment on all fics you enjoy, all authors love them! carefully read the warnings!!!!

kinktober day 4 main kink: robbery kink

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“As for our latest news, the city of Chiba has decided to close the current twelve-month reigning search for the missing victim of the Chiba Bank robberies. However, known criminal known only by his alias Ground Zero who has been on our countries most wanted list on account of robberies, murder, and rape is still on the ru—”

Click.

You frowned as you threw the TV remote onto the bed, unease sitting on your stomach.

Pre-work jitters were a normal thing, right?

You looked at the full-length mirror in front of you, your finger pressed against a black pencil skirt, trailing up to brush against the white silk shirt you wore. Today is a special day, you reminded yourself as you lined closer to the mirror. Your hand grabbing the dark red lipstick you owned and as smoothly as you could, smoothed the cream over your lips.

The first day working at the esteemed Yaoyorozu Banking Inc., the world's most influential and wealthiest bank. Getting an interview at the prestigious bank had been a once in a lifetime opportunity, your incredible resume and references without a doubt getting your foot in the door to simply be a bank teller. 

Yes, to simply be a bank teller, you had to know at least three languages (you knew English, Japanese, Mandarin, and Spanish), had to know someone with affiliations to either the Yaoyorozu family or the hiring team (your number one reference was none other than the CEO and Founders daughter), and have a certain intellect (there was an admittance test to even qualify to fill out a job application). It had been a rather challenging admittance for you, especially as they had only been one job opening. Frankly, you think your only reason for winning the spot was due to Yaoyorozu Momo’s hand.

Still, it mattered not in the end because you had the job—no use of trying to figure out just what made you stand out so much.

Pushing away from the mirror, you studied yourself over one last time.

Your outfit was exactly as they required it to be, your pink hair styled appropriately out of your face, and the slight gleam of your pantyhose made you heave a heavy sigh.

You were as ready as you could ever be. 

With one final look into the mirror, you tilted your head at the gold-colored contacts you wore, a symbol of the job you held at Yaoyorozu Bankings and thought it made you look like a whole other person. No time to dwell on that, you decided, slipping on your watch and red-bottomed high heels and left your apartment. 

It was time to work.

The commute to work was dull if you ignored the way your stomach twisted and turned in the thought of arriving at work. What would the security be like, at the bank, you couldn’t help but wonder? Would there be bulletproof glass? Ten security guards?

All the banks you’ve ever had the pleasure of entering had always been handled with a small waiting room for clients and a five-inch thick bulletproof glass wall. But that had been at smaller, local banks, not anything like where you were about to begin working. Yaoyorozu Banking had several different buildings designated for the different types of jobs located within their name. You did, however, know that the smallest only two-story building was for their in-person bank tellings. That is where you would be working. Two floors for an essential part of their business, and you had no idea what it looked like as you had no account with them, and your interview had taken place at their headquarters. 

By the time the bus had pulled up to the stop, you would need to get off of, you could feel the nerves of the upcoming day begin to sit heavily on your bladder. You could feel the eyes of everyone else on the bus staring at you as you exited the vehicle. Everyone knew what this stop was for and had undoubtedly seen the gold contacts when you passed by them.

Each step of your heel against the sidewalk's paved concrete seemed to echo distinctly in your ear. It was rather odd, you noted as you walked toward the bank's building, that despite a large number of employees and patron’s the bank had, it seemed almost deserted. Looking down at the watch on your wrist, you knew immediately that you weren’t running late. As a matter of fact, you would be running precisely on time, showing up to your on-call site fifteen minutes before you were due. 

Regardless, you took each stride in your step as powerfully and as in control as you could. Your gaze narrowed, focused, intense as you stared at the revolving crystal clean glass doors. With one last supporting thought about how you were absolutely going to make sure that you would end this day in success, you pushed through.

White marble floors, glossy white walls with black and gold accents met your gaze immediately. Despite the apparent shock of seeing the indoors of this lavish, distinctly rich bank, you continued moving as if unaffected. The clicking of your heels against the floor was the only thing letting you know that you were, in fact, moving. 

Twelve men lined the lobby hallway, each tall, bulky with sunglasses and earpieces on. Although you couldn’t see their eyes, you had without a doubt that they were looking at you as you passed them to a set of large oak and gold accented doors.

There, a smiling woman greeted you. Her smile is warm and gentle as her own silver-colored eyes welcome you, and your spine stiffens at the appearance of information that passes through your vision.

Name: Fuwa Mawata Position: Greeter & Inspector.

“Ah, welcome Uzume-chan!” she cheered in greeting, her mascara painted eyes closing in greetings. You said your hello’s, your voice breathy with the shock of this bank's high technological advantages. “I see that this is your first day here, and luckily for you, no one is around, so I may quickly inform you of entrance clearance!”

“T-That sounds perfect!” you admit, your smile feeling just the littlest bit too tight, but your hands held your bag tighter in your grip.

“Wonderful! Well, here at Yaoyorozu’s Banking Inc., we have a strict business protocol for both our clients and our employees! First, as you may or may not know, all of the building's operations take place on the floor above, and due to the clients we have, it's a bit… unorthodox in our approach. We are the only bank with no bulletproof glass between you, the bank tellers, and our customers!”

What now?

“Our clients are so finicky about being treated with such distrust that they’d rather have this approach!” Fuwa laughed as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with such statements. “So, to approach the bank, you must pass by me! But do not worry! We have never, ever within our nearly century-long reign, have ever been robbed or seized before. Our twelve men out there are true experts, and I have the only button to inform the police right here! Everyone, so both clients and employees, must leave their personal belongings here, and I will search you for any potential weapons!”

“I’m not allowed my phone up?” you asked, a bit confused by this rather outlandish set of rules.

“I’m afraid not! You’ll be so busy working the entire time you won’t be needing it. You are allowed to come and retrieve while on lunch since the break room and lunchrooms are down here on the first floor!” Fuwa confirmed, her head nodding in confirmation. “I understand that it can be a bit different, I myself am not yet used to it, but these rules are in place so that every one of our clients and employees can remain safe!”

You fight off the frown that dangerously tries to grow on your face by nodding, handing over your purse to Fuwa, “That makes sense.”

“Glad to know that it isn’t an issue for you, Uzume-chan! Now, if you’ll step past me, I’ll be checking for any concealed weapons, and you will be met with your supervisor as soon as you enter the second floor!”

It takes exactly two seconds for Fuwa to complete her scan of your body. She explained with a wink that her contacts allowed her to find any potentially dangerous weapon on a person's body. “No matter where it might be,” she added with a tilting head and a bright grin. “By the way, I love the watch! It’s so beautiful, it must’ve been expensive!”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm as you gently touch the watch, your finger tapping the watch’s face twelve times while your smile is unparalleled as you think of the man who had gifted you the object. “Thank you, it was a gift.”

With that, you climbed up the stairs as sophisticatedly, brushing a few strands of curly pink hair out of your face as you enter the main floor, and you realize immediately that the quiet of the first floor and outdoors does not reach this floor.

The second floor is loud.

People with their names and occupations flashing within your view walking from table to table, stacks of paper in their arms, arguing, or talking with those around them. It was a sight to behold, indeed. But a voice interrupted your thoughts, and before you could honestly assess the situation at hand, you were whisked away, a detailed explanation of your job and expectations were. 

Unexpectedly, Fuwa had been right.

This job had no downtime. 

You sat on a leather seat at a desk to handle the clients. Much like old banks out west, your desks were much higher than those you were servicing; most often, you had to look down at them like a mother to a child as you worked. 

Your supervisor, who went by the name Togeike Chikuchi, was over your shoulder for about an hour, detailing and correcting your every action until you cleared ten clients entirely on your own. At this moment, she sat at the desk to your left, chatting with her client with a bright sunny smile that you had thought for a moment she was incapable of. 

It was 14:23 when you were with a client who was currently wondering if sending her ‘poor niece who lived with her amazing female roommate’ ¥500,000 was enough for a week worth of groceries. Of course, it took everything in you to bite your tongue and ask her if she had ever bought her own groceries before.

“Well, if you’re asking me, I think that’s a perfect amount!” you smile pleasantly, watching as who you’re pretty sure to be a CEO of a rice tycoon company. “If anything, you can always question her if that was enough the next time you speak. Everyone is always so different when it comes to groceries.”

“Ah, I suppose so!” she laughs good naturally, her arms rising to press a slip of paper with her account information on it on your desk. “I always spend almost—”

She cut off, and for the first time, you didn’t have to wonder why.

There was an echoing, distant sound of four straight bangs. 

It seemed to have been heard collectively by the entire second floor because, for a moment, there was a silence that wrapped the whole floor. 

Mumbles and murmurs soon flooded the floor, and a frown pressed against your lips as you stared at the staircase. What happened?

“Oh, I bet you that dumb janitor downstairs dropped his vacuum again!” your client huffed, her eyes rolling while you transferred the amount she requested from her account over into her nieces. “He did that the last time I was here too! Except it only caused two loud bangs like that! How immaturely irresponsible of him! Unable to do his job correctly and as a janitor at that? How much lower could he possibly get?”

You, once again, bite your tongue, choosing instead to laugh in faux humor over her rant. The agreeing lie on your tongue moments from being let out when a new sort of movement at the corner of your eye stopped you.

Climbing up from the staircase was a man who took heavy, powerful steps. You were getting used to the way these clients carried themselves. They all tended to stride authoritatively, commandeering all attention to them. Despite their dominative pace, they were almost light on their feet, their steps relatively silent as they walked from corner to corner. But this man who made his way up the stairs was heavy, barbaric, and fierce with every echoing footstep he took.

It was as if the world slowed down as the entire room went to stare at him, and an ice-cold shiver crept down your spine as you took him in.

Ash blond, spiky unruly hair. Splattered red blood covering his exposed arms and neck. A black get-up looked akin to a secret black op team with the black army vest, black tank underneath, black army pants, black combat boots, and strap around his right thigh that seemed to carry two guns and knives. As a matter of fact, his vest also showcased the copious amount of ammunition he had.

It was Ground Zero.

Fear plunged through you as he rose a single hand to the ceiling, a sickening smirk spreading on his face as the world seemed to slow down. Many clients chose to turn to look the second his finger pulled on the trigger.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

Shrieks erupted through the floor, and you watched as everyone, including yourself, hit the deck. Your body trembled with nervous fear as the gun firing stopped.

“Everybody get the fuck up.”

It was a low voice, gravely, and course with evident past strain. You looked across the way to Togeike, who looked just about as fearful and terrified as you felt. 

You didn’t dare to move, and by the looks of it, none of your coworkers did either. There was no panic button on this floor, and the only way to the switch was at Fuwa’s desk. A desk that couldn’t be reached unless passing by the man with black paint smeared across most of his face in a strategic way that rendered him anonymous by all photographic and video evidence. 

“I don’t think I fucking stuttered,” Ground Zero sneered, a light, fickle chuckle erupting low and deep in his chest as the sound of scared whimpers and silent sobbing began to pick up around the room. You didn’t need to know who was making those noises; after all, you knew what everyone was already thinking: will I be killed next? There was a loud bang a bit too near to your body, and you couldn’t help but scream in tandem with everyone else on the floor and the distinctive, irreplicable sound of someone choking on their blood. “I said, everyone, get the fuck up.”

Flight or fight were always two instincts you were taught about in school. Two altering, opposite reactions to being placed in stressful situations, but right now, you were in that third, lesser-known option: freezing.

“It’s like you elite bastards are begging to fucking die!” he laughed joyously, and you felt tears push to your eyes as another resounding bang shake through your body, your ears ringing with the noise. The now becoming familiar sound of a body hitting the floor dead and bleeding sending a sickening bubble through your throat.

But you pulled yourself up, your body trembling like a leaf as you stared at the infamous criminal who was merely smirking at the two dead bodies of clients who continued to bleed out on the floor as those around them cried.

“So, even with all the money in the goddamn world, you damn elitist are still damn fucking cry babies!” he cried with unrestrained, unleveled glee and anger. “Oh, this was the perfect place to choose as my final exit from the world.”

Your breath stops when he turns on you, his blood-red eyes locking on yours, and you can feel the hairs on your arm rising in unsettling knowing.

“Aren’t you a pretty looking whore,” he smirked, his hands putting his gun back into its holster, his heavy feet booming as loud as his gunshots as he makes his way towards you. The rest of the clients, especially the one located by your desk, shriek, cowering as he moves. “Tell me, whore, who does a guy gotta fucking talk to to get the money into my account?”

Your throat seamlessly tightened up in your deep fear as he directly addressed you, and you made a choking noise in your horror.

But, it seemed that Ground Zero was not in the mood for your timidness. Because you could see the vein in his temple throb, the sound of him sucking in his teeth, and the cold, humorous chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he grabbed his gun back out of its holster and pressed it centimeters away from between your eyes.

Typically, the clients couldn’t reach you from where they stood, but it was clearly apparent as he neared you that Ground Zero was not typical. He was big, huge, tall, and he quickly reached you. 

The heat of the previously fired bullets from the muzzle of the gun radiating off it clearly, licking the skin on your forehead as finally, words tumbled out.

“I just started today, Togeike-san is my supervisor!”

Ground Zero lazily smirked as he followed your thrust out finger at your coworker and supervisor.

A loud choking sound spluttered from Togeike as Ground Zero turned his attention onto her and stalked over in three steps easily. His eyes were sharp, deadly, and cold as he stared at your supervisor, and he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a black USB.

“Put all the bank's assets onto the account on this drive.”

“W-What if I don’t?” Togeike stammered, her body quivering just the same as yours. But the false sense of confidence only resulted in the gun being placed back between her eyes, only this time, he pressed the hot muzzle against her skin, and she shrieked at her burning skin.

“Try that again, you fucking extra,” Ground Zero hissed, and Togeike sobbed, grabbing the USB with a nod.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

The sound of Togeike sobbing is almost as bad as the intruding smells of iron rusting blood from the dead bodies and the sick smell of the burning flesh on her forehead. 

It seems to take forever, you standing there silently, perfectly still as Togeike hooks the hard drive to her computer. You can see that she begins the monetary transfer from the bank's large accounts and reserves onto the account enabled on the hard drive, and you feel numb. Should you be relieved that he would most likely take this once it was done and leave? Scared that he was here on your first day at that? What shit luck…

You concentrated on your hands as time seemed to drag by slowly, your knees still feeling weak, your breathing shallow as the crude smell of drying blood makes your head spin. 

But unlike you, you hadn’t raised a single gaze in Ground Zero’s way, a rising sound of voices began to resonate from the floor and opposite side of the room. You blinked rapidly as you looked up.

Four men stood up, their brows furrowed, suits abandoned, and expressions steady and fierce. 

“The fuck you think you’re doing standing up, fucking wimps?” Ground Zero gruffed, his body language telling a whole other story from his voice. He was relaxed, unaffected by their challenging forms and fierce glares. “What? Don’t tell me? You think you four in front of me can take me? Don’t fucking flatter yourself. Even with the three behind me who’s easily apart of your fucking idiotic plan, I’ll kill ya all before you can pray to not to be sent to hell!”

“Flatter ourselves?” a man scoffed after getting over the initial shock of their once thought to be secretive plan being exposed without so much as a spec of interest from Ground Zero. “Don’t you get so fucking cocky! We’ll beat your ass and hand you over to the fucking police, you damn bastard!”

Screams erupt throughout the entire room as the seven in cahoots men lunge forward at the dangerous criminal who has set himself back center stage of the second floor.

It’s over before you can blink.

You scream with the masses as five excruciatingly loud bangs go off, and you can barely return your gaze on the fighting men to see the outcome you already know. 

There are six bodies on the floor, bleeding out fleetingly as Ground Zero holds the seventh by the neck. Your jaw drops as more blood splatters against Ground Zero’s chest, and you’re none the wiser of the knife buried deep within his throat until the body is falling over, dead, lifeless. 

“All the fucking money in the world and none of you were taught fucking manners of a properly functioning brain, hah?” he roared, his lips pulled into a threatening, angry snarl as sobs erupt through the crowds again, and a rolling tingle shoots through your body. “I guess killing everyone just isn’t fucking enough for you all, is it?”

You were unsure of how to even answer that. Your eyes falling over onto Togeike, who was silently crying, her eyes screwed tightly as the meter on the money transfer hits 47%.

“Let me set an example for anyone else who wants to try more bullshit in front of me,” Ground Zero snaps, and you shriek when his bloodied hand tangles into your pink hair and yanks you over the desk.

Crashing onto the floor as ungracefully as one could, your eyes widen and jaw drop in an excruciating, soundless scream as pain shoots through your body. But, it’s not near over yet. 

Your hands weakly grab Ground Zero’s wrist, trying to ease the pulsing pain in your body and scalp as he drags you front and center of the second floor. You can’t even understand yourself at this point, sniffling, pathetic pleas to let you go, tears streaming down your face as he throws you, your body hitting the marble floor as you sob for forgiveness.

“Now,” Ground Zero speaks from above you, and your arms have never felt weaker as you press up from the cold, ice floor. You freeze, your body feeling like a tundra as a now all too familiar click of a loaded gun resonates centimeters from your head. You silently sob when a warm muzzle pressed against the back of your head. “The next person to look away from what I’m about to do to my new cum whore, the next person who even fucking thinks of trying some really unfunny shit… her life is on your head.”

The sobs stop with that threat, or did they grow more at the easily implied actions of the corrupt man before you? You couldn’t really tell anymore. Yet slowly, the clients who are sitting in dead men’s blood shakily turn their gaze to you, and you can feel the weight of all their eyes on you. You feel weightless, almost empty.

“Pink hair is for whores, didn’t you know that? That’s why I picked you.” Ground Zero informs you from behind you. The barrel of the gun digs harder, pushing roughly against your head. “Whores are meant to be fucked by fat fucking cocks, so turn around, whore, and suck me off.”

Your breathing returns in spastic, shallow breathes, and you suppress the rising sob in your throat as you turn around on your hands and knees.

Ground Zero stares down at you with expectant eyes, cruel and dark with their crooked want and lust. Your breathing picks up when he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and underwear with only one hand, the other one with the gun never once leaving your head.

“Make sure you all watch her, I’ve never had to kill a bitch while sucking me off, and I wouldn’t want to make this the first time!” Ground Zero laughed, his crimson red eyes glaring at the shamefully gazed clients as he holds his growing cock in his hands. Despite all logic, you stare at his hardening cock with an ever-increasing lust, the tears in your eyes never stopping, but your cunt unwilling to ignore the fact that his cock would feel so good in anyone of your holes. You knew that, and it horrified you. “The fuck you waiting for?” Ground Zero growled, shifting the barrel of the gun to your temple, his eyebrow raised in a taunt. “Suck my fucking cock.”

And despite the growing hiccuping cries in your chest, you can’t stop the way your mouth waters as you shamefully grab onto his cock and press your mouth down on him. 

His cock was large, undoubtedly longer than your face, and thicker than what your hand could encompass. Messy dark blond pubes sat motions away from your nose, and veins that ran all over his length rubbed against your tongue. The taste of his slightly sweaty cock made you gag, but the fear of what he would do caused you to snuff it out.

Tears poured limitlessly down your face, your throat and jaw stretching as far as it could as you took him in further and further.

Even with the tears on your cheeks, you did your best to appease him, horrified by the outcome should you not. Your tongue swirled against his girth, trailing the plenty of veins that you could get to. His cock pressed further into your mouth, shoving until it hit the back of your throat, continuing to dive in deeper until the ends of his pubes tickled your nose, and you could feel the head of his cock stretching out your throat. And horrifically, even with the strangled, choked sobs that still continued to pour from your mouth, you were enjoying the way he was fucking your mouth.

You enjoyed the way the cooling barrel on your temple made you quiver with dreadful apprehension. You enjoyed the way his hips rocked into your mouth, most often hitting your gaping jaw. You enjoyed the way the noises of your unwilling audience made you feel dirty, whorish, and shameful. But as his fingers managed to slip into your hollowing cheeks, drool and saliva dripping down your chin in your slobbering heat and shame, you could feel your essence slicking onto your panties.

“Look at how shameless you are!” Ground Zero laughed, his hand that once guided his cock into your mouth, gripping onto your hair and fisting into it. You yelped at the pain, your teeth painfully close to biting his cock. “All these people around watching you suck off the big, bad Ground Zero’s cock, and you aren’t even embarrassed!?”

You made a disagreeing noise, your brows furrowing, your gaze doing everything in its power to avoid your clients and coworkers gaze as Ground Zero began to rock his hips even more powerfully into your mouth. He chuckled, clearly pleased with what was occurring, and he threw the gun back into its holster. With the free hand, he placed it around your throat, squeezing your airway as you choked pathetically against his length and girth.

“I bet you came into work wanting to be fucked today. Wanting to get pressed to the floor and let everyone see your slutty fucking cunt and throat be used.” Ground Zero growled his grip on your throat, tightening even more. “Is that why you came here to work? Hoped I’d show up one day and fuck you to submission in front of everyone?!”

You gagged, the pounding of his cock further and further down your choked throat overwhelming you as the tears of shame quickly became those of fear as the lack of oxygen burned your throat and nose. You tried to breathe, but Ground Zero knew what he was doing and how he was doing it, not allowing you to breathe despite the way your fingers created crescent scars on the back of his thighs. 

Too much, too much, too much!

His balls slapped under your chin, and the musk of his skin tainted your tongue, but Ground Zero was only getting started, it seemed. With his hands now grabbing the sides of your head, he began to fuck your throat savagely. 

The wet sloppy noises of his driving cock into your throat seemed to echo off the shiny walls and marble floors. Your saliva and drool ruining your silk top and mixing with the blood on the floor. 

Your eyes were crossing with the extreme force, your body feeling weightless with your inability to breathe, yet despite all logic, you finally let out a sweet, grateful moan as your nose pressed to his hips.

But that was enough for Ground Zero.

It was a noise that would finish the last nail in your coffin as he held you there to his hips, his cock entire within your throat that tightened and fluttered against his length as you struggled to pull away.

“No use in fighting it now, you fucking whore,” Ground Zero grinned, the expression on his face akin to that of a predator stalking his prey. His voice, ever so naturally loud, filled the room, letting everyone know just what was going on. “They all heard you moan like a slut while getting fucking raped by me. So do me a little favor and get on all fours, I need a place to dump my fucking cum.”

With that, Ground Zero shoved you off his cock and onto your back, and you began to cough and choke desperately. The sour, raunchy scent of the sweat, blood, and gunpowder burning your nostrils as you attempted to steady yourself. You began to cry again at the filthy thought of how you were enjoying the way his cock had been in you, and the way your body craved for more of it.

You didn’t want to admit that you wanted him to fuck you, especially in front of everyone.

But as you were consumed with your at war thoughts, Ground Zero was already impatient. 

His feet trapped you between him, and he leaned down to grab your silk shirt.

“W-Wait—!” you shriek as he rips open the shirt, the sound of scattering buttons flying everywhere as your bra is revealed to everyone in the room who is watching.

Silent tears poured down your cheeks as with the destruction of the white silk shirt, a sheer and lacy red bra was exposed to the mass. Today had been a means of celebration, and you had intended on fucking your boyfriend the moment you got home… but that had been something you had kept a secret. Something to be held from the world until it was you and him in a bed. But it was now an object to be seen by everyone, and you bit onto your lower, trembling lip, eyes screwed shut as you tried to look away from the heated territorial look on Ground Zero’s face.

“Oh, look at what we have here?” Ground Zero almost whispered, but his voice still managed to reach every corner of the floor. “You are a little fucking whore, are you not? Came to work actually wearing lingerie! I thought I was just fucking teasing you before, but no! No! Not at all! You do want to be fucked in front of everyone!”

Your sniffling wouldn’t stop as his large, hot, bloodied dried hands grabbed at your bra-clad breasts. He was leaning down over you, you could feel the amused breathing flushing against your collarbone, and you mangled a choke when he kneeled down, trapping you.

“Such an ugly pair of tits,” Ground Zero mocked, his large hands pressing the sides of your breasts together, enhancing your cleavage and fullness of your breasts as you lay on the floor. “I’ll let you in on a secret… all those missing sluts I’ve fucked in previous jobs? Well, I can always tell how good a fuck they’d be just through this part.”

Hissing, you glared at Ground Zero as he slipped his fingers under the fabric, teasing and pulling at your pebbled nipples. His red glare meeting yours, mocking and somehow both hot and cold.

But a shameful, pitch moaned fell from you, your back against all logic arching up into Ground Zero. Soft whines, shaking arms, thrashing legs.

“Would you look at that,” Ground Zero’s sneering tone was back, and you found yourself opening your eyes (somehow missing when you closed them), to see Ground Zero glaring at someone in the crowd. “Looks like you could make a professional slut, whore! That man over there has a fucking boner over watching me rape you and your slutty mouth and feeling up your tits!”

“N-No I don’t!” the man exclaimed as you couldn’t help but meet the accused eyes that were filled with shame, a red blush tainting his cheeks. “Just thinking about when this’ll be fucking over!”

“Oh?”

Ground Zero’s grip grabbed you by the throat, and you panicked as he ripped you up onto your feet and began walking over to where the man was. You stumbled to keep up, unable to find your balance the entire time you walked with him, in awe that this unlawful man could walk determinedly when his pants around his thighs, hard, leaking cock pressing to his vest-clad stomach. But before you could find your balance, Ground Zero threw you back onto the floor, landing centimeters from the client's feet, and you began to cry as your exposed stomach touched the floor.

Ground Zero wasted no time on your noises, straddling your ass, scooping his hands beneath your breasts, and pulling you up. 

The client's face went beet red, his bulge in his pants evident as you could only keep your gaze there, unable to raise or turn your head as Ground Zero squeezed your breasts in his hands. 

You moaned at the sensation, your mind giving in to the feelings to not cry anymore.

“Tell the whore how much you like her tits,” Ground Zero commanded, his hands kneading and pulling at your mounds of flesh. “Tell her your little microcock wants to fuck her.”

The client had the decency to look offended as he spluttered, “I’M NOT GOING TO TELL HER THAT!”

With his words, silence took over the room, and you trembled in your fear.

“Damn extra?” Ground Zero shouts to Togeike.

“Y-Yes?”

“How much fucking longer?”

“I-It’s at 63%!”

“Wonderful.”

One of Ground Zero’s hands abandoned his manipulation of your breasts, but he still managed to keep you in place with only one hand. He pulled a breast out of the bra, and you whimpered as the client gwuaffed at the sight of your breast, but immediately cut himself off when a cold, heavy metal barrel pressed against your temple.

“Let’s try again,” Ground Zero said with faux cheer. “Tell the whore how much you like her tits, and how your microcock wants to fuck her, or else I’ll kill her right in front of you.” There’s a heavily, curling silence that overwhelms the room before he decides to add one last thing for good measure. “I’ve never fucked a dead body before, and I wouldn’t want to start that now.”

“I-I like her tits,” the man stammered.

“How much?”

“T-They’re… they’re so hot,” the man begins to cry, his body shaking in front of you. “I wish I could b-be fucking her instead!”

“Too bad for that microcock you have, huh?” Ground Zero taunted, pulling the gun from your temple and pointing it straight at the man's crotch. “Show her.”

“W-What?!”

“Show her your cock.”

It seemed to happen so slowly. The man unbuckling his belt with shaky hands, clumsily undoing his pants, and shifting it down his legs, white boxer briefs stained slightly with pre-cum. You looked away when he revealed a cock that looked pathetic to the one you had just sucked, so small, so thin, so discolored. 

“You got one fucking ugly ass cock,” Ground Zero laughed.

Then the world picked back up.

The first thing you heard and felt was the tearing of your skirt, and you panicked as Ground Zero dropped your chest onto the cold floor. You whipped your head around to see your work skirt split all the way down the middle, only held together by a few remaining strands by the waistline. And the sheer pantyhose you wore, twisted between his fingers, and completely ripped as his gaze met yours.

“Cute fucking thong.”

You choked at the feeling of cold, soured air hitting your inner thighs that were still wet with your slick, and instinctively, you tried to scramble onto your knees. But it seemed that this was what Ground Zero wanted from you, for the moment you were on your knees, he pressed his hand to the curve of your back and kept you there.

Ass up, back curved, chest down.

“Until the transfer is at 100%, your wet little cunt is mine!” Ground Zero reveled in the information as he couldn’t even bother to pull down your panties before plunging his fingers into your sopping heat.

The shameful pleasure of feeling his fingers deep within your cunt sent you screaming, your back arching even further as his fingers continued to thrust in you. They curled and spread, sending your mind into a spiraling lust as he managed to find all of your sweet spots without so much as breaking a sweat.

“You’re so easy,” Ground Zero groaned, his cock rutting between the curves of your ass as he continued to finger fuck you. “So fucking wet too. I just knew a fucking whore like you couldn’t be getting fucked right at home, that’s why you hoped you’d get fucked by me today!”

Your teeth bit into your forearm, the overwhelming pleasure of his fingers stroking your inner walls, tweaking and moving against your clit, making your thighs tremble with the already forming pressure in your womb. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, you little whore,” Ground Zero whispered into your ear, laughing when you shuddered at the feeling of his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “Everyone wants to hear you moan, scream, and cry for the big bad Ground Zero’s cock. Don’t mute yourself, let them hear just how well I’ll fuck you into a puddle of tears and cum.”

You didn’t want them to hear you begging for more. You didn’t want the entire room to know that your cunt was spasming and clenching around his fingers because you liked this. You didn’t want them to know.

“I bet fuckface in front of you really wants to hear it!” Ground Zero laughed, his finger doing light, quick circles against your clit as his other hand brought your attention to the man before you. Sure enough, his cock was throbbing, precum leaking down his length as he shamefully looked at you. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind you fucking yourself as I fuck this stupid cunt.”

But with the building pressure in your stomach. Your toes curling as the soft thumps of his fingers dive in and out of your sopping wet cunt, your body begins to tense up.

“Already ready to cum,” Ground Zero smirked, and you felt your body go rigid when his fingers left your cunt, and was immediately replaced with his large, thick cock.

Having not expected such action, your arms shot out, eyes rolling back as a guilty, wanton scream tore through your throat. He was so big, so thick, so full, stretching you out completely, sending your tight walls into a frenzy as they stretched and tightened around his cock.

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!”

“Oh, she speaks!” Ground Zero laughs, almost a bit deranged as he grabs onto your waist and begins to plow into you. “I wonder to what lengths I can get you to speak! I want to hear you screaming for me, whore.”

It was then that he slammed his hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. It was heavy-handed, the power he held in his hand while never doubted, didn’t make you think it was ever this much. The pleasure curled pain made your knees buckle, a hot pressure bursting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on the same throbbing cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you keened loudly when Ground Zero yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your swelling skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight, is whoever this getup for fuck you shitty too? Don’t tell me this fucking extra is the man you fuck in your bed?” he laughs, his foot stamping to the outside of your leg. The new position increases the range and the power of his thrusts, sending your body forward with every squelch bringing thrust. “I bet you’d like it if your stupid cock piece was here to watch how a real fucking man fucks, huh? You fucking would—” his hand comes down to wrap around your waist, pinching and tugging at your clit that’s thrumming with impending orgasm. Ignoring your growing pleads for more— “You like being an example to everyone in this fucking shit room of how to be fucked correctly! I bet you’re actually liking the way they’re judging you and your tight, wet cunt.”

The next powerful thrust that has his balls smacking your skin nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Ground Zero abused your clit and cunt.

“Answer me, fucking whore.”

There was no stopping Ground Zero’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It was true; it delighted you.

“Y-Yes, I like being fucked by you!” you finally break crying, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more. “I like them watching as you fuck me! You fuck me so good!”

“Glad you could finally admit it because your cunt is so fucking wet right now I’m sure everyone else already knew,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you. I can see you choking back your cries of pleasure, the fuck you take me for? Do you want me to leave you without an orgasm?”

“N-No!” you sob pathetically, arms pathetically stretching behind you to keep him thrusting faster into you. “D-Don’t leave me until I-I cum!”

Your words were loud, letting everyone know just how much you wanted this, just enough for the man before you to groan as he came, and you thanked Ground Zero as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a smirk as he let go of your hair, letting your head drop back onto the floor, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.

“I know you can fucking scream louder than that. I want the entire fucking world to know who’s fucking you right now.”

The words were honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.

Slap.

“Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Please, Ground Zero, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you babble, your tongue falling from your mouths as you pant like a bitch in heat, your body convulsing and shaking with need and heightening lust.

Your mind reeled as Ground Zero continued his conquest against your cunt. You could barely count the number of times he drilled his cock straight into your heat, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix over and over. The added sensation of his fingers manipulating your clit, and shoving into your mouth to tug on your tongue as you began to grow too loud made you dizzy. Your ass and thighs were undoubtedly bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto the marble floor.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he cheers as he repositions the angle in which he’s driving into you, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued fucking you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips finally began to buck against his commanding hips, trying to get the echoing slaps to grew even louder. “Such a greedy little slut.”

Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more heat, power, and pain.

“Is this not good enough for you?” Ground Zero chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”

At that phrase, Ground Zero slams into you with the power and force you had yet to experience. Causing you to howl in your throbbing lust, your mind more a second snapping back out of its haze as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you try to look at Ground Zero, finally trying to take a glance at how he looked. You wondered if he was as unhinged as you felt, as savage as you imagined with his lustful red eyes. 

“Where is it at?” Ground Zero barked over at Togeike.

“I-It’s at 97%!” she stammered, shame dripping from her voice, and you had half a mind to wonder if they were all turned on too.

Maybe they were jealous of the fat cock claiming you, and you mewl in the thought, your back bristling as you slammed back onto his drilling cock. You wanted more from him, craved more from him. The coil in your belly still yet to be undone, but you were not going to let it snap anytime soon.

“Gotta fucking make this little slut cum soon then, huh?” Ground Zero grinned, and you felt his teeth bare into the back of your neck in a flash of throbbing, burning pain.

You cried.

The angle and power behind these growing sloppy thrusts were different than what you were used to. It was deranged almost, your body shifting with each thrust, nearly toppling over as Ground Zero claimed you with his teeth and his cock. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, ringing moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you brought your arms as best you could to his waist to keep him there.

Sweat dripped down Ground Zero’s neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.

“Please — fuck — do that! Do that again, please!” you screamed when a vein in his cock dragged against your pulsating, puffy walls, at the same time he pushed against your cervix.

“Such—” thrust— “A—” thrust— “Fucking—” thrust— “Whore!” thrust! “Who do you fucking belong to?!”

“Y-You, Ground Zero!” you scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second. “I belong to you! I’m your fucking whore, please fill me with your cum! Cum in me, please cum in me!”

Ground Zero preens at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in his zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure now spilling over.

His cock twitched within you. It knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.

“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.

You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length, and you orgasm roughly, your body shaking and spasming uncontrollably as you scream his name. Ground Zero curses loudly, slamming into you one last time with the power and tenacity of an army as he lets out a string of curses, and you moan, knowing that he came in you.

“Such a good slut,” Ground Zero grins as you can feel your eyes fluttering shut, physical and mental exhaustion now catching up with you. “Sleep now, I’m not done with you.”

You couldn’t gather the energy to speak back, your world blacking out with the sounds of sobs, screams, and more gunshots.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You wake up in a car.

The warm, gentle wind caressing your face as the world is quiet. It's calm, pleasant, pleasing. Your pink wig is on your knees, slightly ruined with blood, sweat, tears, and drool.

You sigh, your body throbbing with different pain as you look to your right at who’s driving.

It’s Ground Zero, or as you know him: Bakugou Katsuki.

His arms are covered now, the old black op outfit changed for a pair of black slacks and a red button-down shirt. You would have no idea he was the man who stormed into Yaoyorozu Bankings earlier that day.

“Good morning,” you sigh, reaching against the seat to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Bakugou looks at you with a smirk, reaching towards you for a real kiss as he continues to drive. You can tell you’re in comfortable clothes, ointment on any potentially worrisome wounds he had inflicted on you while wrapped up in your twisted fantasy of yours. 

“Nice to see you up,” he gruffs, his voice rough from his overuse in the bank.

“Did we get it?” you ask, head pressing to his shoulder, and with a chuckle, he raised the black USB.

“Damn fucking right we did, y/n.”

“Perfect.”

It goes without saying that despite the sheer brilliance of Bakugou’s work as Ground Zero, he would have never pulled off such crimes without you. His pretty, small girlfriend, who always played a victim of his lust at his operations just for good measure. It was a fun life both of you lived.

You looked at the expensive Cartier watch on your wrist, a beautiful gift he had gotten you after your first successive robbery. It had also been programmed for you to communicate with Bakugou on how many guards there were on the floor.

“I love you.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

arrière-pensée: a concealed thought or intention; an ulterior motive.

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tags in comments, theres too many of you.

[moonbaby26]

Title: The Man from the Sky

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: You were a Greek sea goddess, just enjoying a typical day of nothing when a strange new god dropped into your land.

Warnings: None yet. There is smut in future chapters already written. Will post more soon.

Notes: I’m aware that what we’d think of as ancient Greece well predates who we’d call the vikings and their like cruising around the seas. This doesn’t take place at the height of the Greek pantheon worship, but old enough in human history that some men still believed in both sets of deities.

Chapters: Next Chapter Here

My Masterlist

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You dipped your feet a little deeper into the warm water as it lapped the edges of the rock you sat upon. The sea was calm today, and the wind gentle as the nymphs chatted around you about the usual things. A bit of gossip one had heard from a local river nymph, a new shipwreck one had found, status of a fish migration from another.

You wouldn’t exactly call it boring though, you specifically chose these more remote areas when you came ashore for this very reason. It was so much more unlikely for you to run afoul of mortals here, or even others of your own kind that you may not feel like putting on airs with at this very moment.

It was so quiet in fact, that you were considering getting up to go lay in the sand on the beach in a few minutes and enjoy a nice nap in the sunlight.

That was before the boom which echoed through the air all around you. Somewhat like thunder, but not quite as all the nymphs fell silent.

When nothing came after, you felt all their eyes then turning to you. Their voices piped back up soon enough, though the tones in them changed to all nerves now.

“Do you wish to leave, milady?”

“Could it be Zeus?”

“But it didn’t sound like him.”

“Is there a volcano nearby?”

“What else could it be?”

“I don’t know what it was, I’ve never heard that sound.” You finally said, though now looking inward to the land. You were at least sure that the sound was not of the sea. But you refused to give in to the nymphs’ skittishness too quickly. And without real reason to leave, eventually you all did start to relax again.

Yet then came the cries. “Goddess, mistress please!” That cry absolutely was from the land as you looked in time to see the river nymph you’d met earlier in the day now running from the tree line and down onto the sands. She stumbled slightly, just before reaching you where the sea met the rocks.

She was panting, clearly having run some distance as she continued. “I’m so glad to still find you here,” She bowed slightly, only because she didn’t know you well enough to realize you didn’t require this.

“What is it?” You asked simply, honestly more curious now than anything else. What could she have seen that would strike her so alarming? Any nymph worth their ilk would know every creature, every natural occurrence, all that existed within their lands.

“There is a man in the forest, he came from the sky!” Yet she continued quickly, sure you would only think of Olympus. “But I do not recognize him as one of your own family. And his clothing, he is not of our territory. This I am sure, my goddess. I watched him only long enough to see that he was very angry. I am afraid of his intentions here.”

A man? But not truly a man. Mortals did not come from the sky.

“An angry god?” You said, now standing as you then stepped down from the rocks. The forest belonged to Artemis truthfully. But being this close to the sea, you thought that the older goddess would forgive you this if it came down to it. She would rather the nymphs be protected you were sure from any childish acts of a god’s wrath that may now come into play here.

You had brought no armor, the possibility of battle so far from your mind when you’d come ashore today. But that didn’t mean you travelled completely defenseless. “Bring me my spear please.” You requested of the sea nymphs.

Though they were still anxious, they responded dutifully, one sinking beneath the waves before reappearing with the glinting weapon in hand. It shone a brilliant silver, sea foam still running off its blue spear tip as she handed it to you out of the water.

“Show me the way, and I will investigate this stranger.” You spoke plainly, hopping down onto the sands as you strode barefoot towards the forest, spear in hand. “We will keep our distance as best we can, we don’t seek conflict, understood?”

“Yes, milady.” You heard, the sea nymphs staying behind you as the river nymph moved in front to lead you upward, the sand transitioning to rocky soil and the sparse vegetation and trees beginning to increase as you climbed the hillside.

For the sea nymphs, you could hear them losing their footing here and there in the loose soil, themselves of course far more adapted to swimming the ocean’s depths at your side rather than hiking up into the forests.

You did hope you were not putting any of them in danger. But if you felt they truly were in harm’s way, you would have no qualms in telling them to retreat back to the water at once.

“Up ahead,” The river nymph whispered to you, pointing towards a clearing you could now see leveling off in the distance. But the opening looked so strange with the density of the other trees now around you.

“Was that always there?” You asked her, knowing something unnatural when you saw it, even when this far from the water.

“No,” She confirmed. “When the sky opened up, it carved out the land as well. He appeared when that force receded.”

“Understood.” You replied, though in truth not really understanding at all as you motioned for all the others to proceed no further. You’d never seen something like this. “I will go alone. If he should attack me, please return to the sea to seek help.”

They fidgeted, looking unhappy but not arguing your choice. “Please be careful, goddess.”

You nodded, but kept on slowly. You tried to remember what you’d been taught as a little girl about stalking and hunting on land. So many moons ago, running through the forests with Artemis and at times Pan, being mentored before returning to the sea to your father, mother, and so many siblings.

But the closer you came, the more you realized that the stranger would likely not notice any sound of light footsteps approaching or ground shifting. As you neared, you saw his form pacing back and forth in the clearing, seemingly cursing to himself in a language that was not your own.

Yet it still sounded familiar. Abruptly you knew where you had heard a dialect like this before. It sounded so much like those voyagers from the northern seas. The ones with their longboats and course beards, sometimes with hair as red as fire as they fished and sang and fought.

And he did look as pale as them as well. But with hair like black of night, and a frame far more slender than the burly mortals you’d seen rowing those northern boats along. And just as the river nymph had warned, his clothing confused you as well. Rich green robe, but with black and gold as well. It was wholly foreign and exotic to you in its styling, as was he.

When she’d said a strange man had arrived, honestly you had also expected someone older in appearance. He looked quite youthful to be honest, even as his brow remained furrowed and his fists clenched at his sides.

And just when you thought his feet may actually cut a path in the earth from his agitated pacing, he finally slowed, then stopped all together.

This is when you froze as well, knowing you now had a decision to make. Should you keep to your hiding, just to hope he should eventually leave in whatever fashion he came? Or should you reveal yourself to question his identity and purpose here?

“Done spying yet, or do you intend to actually do something with that spear?” A cutting voice spoke abruptly to your side, so suddenly that you almost lost your footing, shocked as the same man emerged from behind other trees only feet from you.

But you still saw him in the clearing as well, at least you did momentarily before the image of him there dissolved, leaving only the form now nearest you.

“You speak my language?” Was all you questioned instead of answer him though, as he had said those last words only in your tongue. You also kept focusing on backing away as you chose to keep a safer distance. He was some sort of illusionist at least then, which could escalate the danger here very quickly if he made you lose your bearings.

And he was starting to circle you a bit you realized as he began to walk again. But you willed yourself to keep your spear at a neutral position, rather than aim at him, still not intending to provoke attack if it could be prevented. You had no idea what other strengths he might have, and your primary goal was still to keep the nymphs from getting caught in any crossfire.

“Not all of us are so uneducated,” He snapped back at you, still in your language, though you could detect that foreign accent underneath.

You were not wholly unused to rudeness though, yet it had been a very long time since you could recall being spoken to directly in such a manner. It was more the bickering between others in the palace that you were sometimes forced to be party to. Which was only another reason you often favored the relative isolation of the mortal world.

“You need not be so offended, stranger. I only came to see who had entered our land, and to protect my friends if need be.” You answered as reserved in tone as you could.

“Then you have done your duty, girl, and can now be gone. I came here to be alone. If I was actually intending to plunder this wasteland of nothingness, your little cohort never would have made it back to you to begin with.”

You stared, a little coldness entering your eyes then. So that was what had given you away. He’d already been aware of the river nymph to begin with, and had been waiting for someone to return the entire time while leaving that illusion of himself still in the clearing as distraction.

And he’d actually referred to you as ‘girl’. Did he really think you just one of the nymphs then? It was hard to say if he was intentionally trying to goad you, or if he really was so unfamiliar to not realize you for what you actually were.

You straightened a bit, replying, “Insults to our homeland aside, I will leave you to this quiet then, if you should at least tell me your name. You are clearly not of Olympus, and we still have right to know who it is who traverses into this particular land of mortals which we hold sovereignty over.”

He scoffed, clearly wishing to not speak to you even a moment longer. But in the way his chest puffed slightly, you thought it was only pride then that made him physically incapable of denying his identity.

He actually moved closer to you as well, that agitation still rising further in his voice. “Little fool, you stand before Loki! Son of Odin the Allfather. I am god of mischief, prince of Asgard. Your witless mortals should count their blessings that an Asgardian should ever see fit to even set foot here!”

You didn’t know if you’d been quick enough to mask the true surprise from your face. You had already assumed him a god. But never...never had you actually laid eyes on an Asgardian. They never came to this part of the world as far as you knew. And was he telling the truth? Was he really a son of Odin?

This stranger’s arrogance aside, if he were a child of Odin, you knew your own father would be furious with you if you were intentionally insulting now. Asgard and Olympus had never had the closest ties, but you were not enemies either. Asgard was honored by the mortals of the north, and Olympus still honored by those of the south, though perhaps not quite as much as the true olden days.

It took real will, but you bowed graciously to him in return. “It is an honor to meet you then, Loki, son of Odin.” As you straightened up, in his eyes you could see he was trying to judge you as sincere or not. But you just continued smoothly. “As promised, I shall leave you to your thoughts then. But I would be unmannered to not offer my assistance should you need a hostess in your time here as a guest in our land. My name is (Y/N), daughter of-”

You hesitated only the briefest moment, “of the sea,” is what you decided on though. Unlike Loki, you preferred a little anonymity with strangers. You didn’t wish to be targeted just for your lineage.

And with that, you turned, beginning to walk back towards the beach, even as you finished talking. “If you should need me, you need only find the sea’s edge and call for me. One of our creatures will hear you soon enough and seek me out.”

But some odd part of you regretted not being able to see his expression as you left. You wondered if you only would have seen more disdain and condescension at your offer.

Regardless, he said nothing else and soon enough you were back on the sand, the nymphs chittering in a mix of horror and awe around you.

“Who does he think he is, speaking to you that way!?”

“Do you really think he’s of Asgard? Shouldn’t we alert your father?”

“Why would he even come here? He seemed so bitter. Do you think they cast him out?”

“I’d cast him out, with a dirty attitude like that!”

You looked to the horizon, just taking a breath. “I don’t think we need to rush and tell my father just yet. But I do know where I want to go now.” You looked to the river nymph briefly though, “Please have those in the forest keep a distant eye on him. Should he leave or do anything else of note, please let us know.”

You glanced back to the sea nymphs then. “The rest of you return to the oceans. I’m going to Olympus, to the libraries there. I want to find out more about Asgard, to see if he is who he says he is. I’ll return to the water soon.”

They all nodded, “Yes, milady. Please let us know what you find!”

“I will,” you agreed, just watching them dissolve back into the waves.

Were you excited perhaps? Or just very curious? Nothing interesting in this way had happened in ages. You were determined to learn all you could on this new arrival.

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The Olympians had been a little surprised to see you gracing the halls there. So many of your cousins had dropped in time and again to say hello, curious themselves of why you were out of the water this long and seemingly such a bookworm all of the sudden.

And you did read for days. All you could find on Asgard, on Odin, the Norse mortals, and their language. You found record that Odin had born two sons, honestly an oddly low number you thought in comparison to the many children of your own kings.

But there in these tomes, were those two names, Thor and Loki. Thor, god of thunder, amusing of course in comparison to Zeus, king of all, including lightning. But also Loki, god of mischief, just as he’d said.

You were surprised, but enthralled as you actually found a drawing of Loki within the book. Though not completely accurate you thought, you still recognized that type of clothing. The green and gold, and the pale skin and black hair with his icy blue eyes. You tilted your head a little, looking at the gold helmet he wore in the artist’s depiction, with long horns curving from it like those of a great beast.

Was he really a beast? Or just a too arrogant manchild? And why did you increasingly wish to find out?

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(Continued in next chapter here)