#i killed a dove for dinner and it was delicious

[complete-in-ix]

Beyond The Path Of Reason

Rated: E Warning(s): DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Implied past non-con, implied past abuse, (neither of those are committed by the mcs), self-harm, stabbing, explicit sexual content, erogore, woundfucking, cannibalism, I cannot stress enough that Sumin comes inside Jinsik's chest cavity please scroll if you don't want to read that, hypnotism, like if Jinsik was Tomie basically Description: Ham Jinsik is no ordinary human. Perhaps he once was, though the truth of his origin has been long since lost to time. All that even he himself knows is that he was born blessed with such beauty that higher beings themselves envied him and mere mortals fell irrevocably and madly in love with a single look into his eyes. Once he became of age the madness overtook the love, and for the first time in his soon-to-be centuries of life, he was murdered in cold blood. Countless calamities have fallen upon his body and heart during his cursed wandering of the earth, all brought about by those unfortunate enough to love and be loved by him. All until Choi Sumin. Sumin's love touches Jinsik differently. He can only hope Sumin will touch him differently, too.

(Read on Ao3)

Jinsik is all too happy to melt into Sumin's kisses at the end of the night. Three dates is already a high number to score with Jinsik and here he is letting himself be pinned to Sumin's bedroom door after—well, he stopped counting after seven. His stomach is pleasantly full from dinner—homemade by Sumin, because of course it would be—and his head buzzes with the daze of wine—full-bodied and sweet just the way he likes it. His heart is in the best condition it's been in decades; swooping in his chest light as a feather with every press of Sumin's lips to his own. 

"You," Sumin whispers between kisses, "are so amazing." His jacket drops to the floor in the time it takes for Jinsik to catch his breath. 

"Me? I've hardly done anything to warrant that, have I?" Jinsik, ever coy, dodges Sumin's kisses this time. He still dives in; landing on Jinsik's cheeks, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Jinsik can't help but giggle at his insistence to love him; he's like an ever-adoring puppy. 

"You exist, jagiya. That alone is amazing enough." Sumin abandons Jinsik's lips in favour of mouthing at his neck, kissing and sucking faint pink marks into his soft skin. Jinsik swallows down a heavy cocktail of dread and arousal as he dips lower; just shy of his collar now. Oh, Sumin's been so good so far. If he fails this last trial, what will become of Jinsik? Of his heart? His body? Jinsik allows him one last lingering kiss to his Adam's apple before lightly pushing at his chest. 

"Yeobo, hold on," he murmurs. Sumin obeys immediately, pulling back with his face turned up in concern. His hands leave their place on Jinsik's waist after a moment of hesitation to hover nervously between them, like he doesn't know what to do with them. Oh, this is new. No one has stopped for Jinsik before Sumin. It's… Nice. He continues before his brooding can take over him. "I have something to tell you before we do anything else." Understanding dawns on Sumin's face.

"Oh?" His tone is light, carefully measured as he guides Jinsik to sit down on his bed. "What is it? Please don't be afraid to tell me, I'm always here to listen." Sumin sits down next to him; farther down the bed away from the door, a safe distance from Jinsik. Providing an exit in case he needs one. He's smiling when Jinsik looks up at him again; soft and reassuring. Jinsik can't help but mirror it. "Whenever you're ready, jagi."

"I—" The words lodge in Jinsik's throat. How many times has he had to have this conversation over the years? How many more times will he have to spill his guts for a man and pick them up again when he inevitably finds them too much of a mess to deal with? How will he handle it if Sumin repeats this cycle? Jinsik glances back up at him to find his curiosity fully replaced by concern. Please, please let this time be the last. He takes a deep breath and tries again. "I've had… Other relationships before." He doesn't need to tell Sumin this; he had garnered quite the reputation for his amount of failed relationships in just the first few months of school; rumours fly quite quickly on a college campus. Sumin hadn't cared in the slightest, nor does he care now. He continues after clearing his throat. "They weren't the best. Some of them cheated on me, some of them ghosted me… It doesn't really matter anymore, they're long gone. It's just…" Here he goes. "... Some of them have really—" He crosses his arms over his chest; nails biting into the meat of his arms. "—hurt me." Sumin sucks in a sharp breath.

"Oh, jagi—" Jinsik shakes his head before he can continue. He has to get this out now or he never will.

"It's not just…" He sighs. "Sometimes they wouldn't just hit me, o-or they'd hit me to get me to—to—" The words tangle around his tongue yet again. All the past decades come flying back to Jinsik again; all the strangers on the street, all the times he'd come back crying only to be called a cheater or worse, all the times he's been beaten and pushed down "because you're mine", every silver tongue that's turned to a vile intrusion against his own. All of them making Jinsik the victim of their own lack of humanity that he's learned to despise. 

"Jagiya, it's okay." Sumin's gentle voice drifts past his screaming memories. "You don't have to say every detail, I… I think I get it." He reaches out to Jinsik, stopping just short of his hand. "None of it was your fault, nor does it change how I see you now. You're still the Jinsik I want to spend all my time with from now on." Jinsik sighs. Now's the hard part. 

"It was my fault, actually." He puts a hand up before Sumin can protest. "Let me just show you so you'll believe me." 

Sumin's favourite pocketknife—his first in a collection that he's been building since he was sixteen, a gift from his father—disappears from his nightstand and flicks open in Jinsik's hand. 

"Jagi, what are you—"

Jinsik slices a deep white gouge in his own arm before Sumin can reach him. 

"Just watch." Sumin does not just watch, scrambling to Jinsik's side and rushing to cover the wound left behind. 

"I'm not going to just watch while you do this! Please jagi, I want to help you through whatever's—" Jinsik's wound knits shut under Sumin's hands; the red river flowing down his arm slowing to a trickle, then a stop. "—been haunting you… What the fuck—"

"I told you, yeobo. Just watch." Jinsik slashes open his other arm this time and places the knife against his throat before this one can even stop bleeding. "I need you to promise me you won't call me an ambulance." 

Shellshocked, Sumin can only nod. 

"Good boy." Are the last words out of Jinsik's mouth before the knife digs in as far as it will go. The whole blade disappears into his flesh and exits him dripping with red that he takes care not to get on Sumin's sheets. His neck spasms against the gush of blood floating down his throat. There’s nothing he can do to prevent the mess that sprays from his neck then; fine droplets of blood and spit finding their way to Sumin’s sheets and floor. 

“Is this going to heal up too?” Sumin asks over the sound of Jinsik’s retching coughs. “Please tell me you’re going to heal from this.”

“I—” Jinsik can hardly get a word out through his chest-ripping coughs. “—I’ll be fine. I just—” There are flecks of blood on Sumin’s hands now too. “—have to show you this—” The edges of his wound grind together unpleasantly as he tries to swallow. “—first so you’ll take—” Stars dance about in his vision as his lungs deplete. “—this next part seriously.”

“There’s a next part?” Sumin’s voice starts to shake around what Jinsik knows is the instinct to gag. It’s commendable that he hasn’t fled yet; Jinsik’s last fling to make it this far had done so while filling him up with lead. He’s patient while waiting for Jinsik’s response, only reaching out for his hand when the lack of oxygen starts to make him sway. 

“To put it simply…” Jinsik’s voice is about as smooth as sandpaper when he can finally speak again, heavy under the weight of blood clots that still cling to the inside of his throat. “I’m just irresistible to anyone who looks me in the eye.”

“Is—” Sumin’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. An anxious habit. “—is that why you never look people in the eye? I really did think it was because you’re on the spectrum.” His words are carefully measured; Jinsik can see that he’s trying to make sure his actions are the same, but he can easily see Sumin’s curiosity starting to overtake him now. Nervous fidgeting with his hands has become a too-measured stillness, his body leaning towards Jinsik when he had initially been keeping his distance, his neck craning this way and that to get a proper look at Jinsik’s face. Cute. 

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m still on the spectrum,” Jinsik giggles. A laugh slips past Sumin’s careful composure to signal his guard dropping, and Jinsik rushes to strike. 

“I’m also no longer human, yeobo.” He speaks into Sumin’s very soul; the very windows to them open and locked on to Jinsik’s. This always happens; they can never look away once Jinsik makes eye contact. His flesh used to crawl every time in anticipation—dread, really—for what would be to come, but… Sumin doesn’t move. He just melts under Jinsik’s gaze, slack-jawed in his awe. That… Hasn’t happened before. “This has been my curse for a long, long time. Don’t you feel it?”

“I…” Sumin swallows thickly. “... I feel something, alright. I feel you.” His hand twitches against Jinsik’s, as if being manipulated by someone else to grab a hold. Interestingly, he doesn’t. “I want you, Jinsik. I want you so bad it’s starting to hurt.” His body jerks somewhat as he crosses his legs; fast, but not fast enough to hide his arousal straining at the front of his pants. As expected. Oh, please don’t let Jinsik’s faith in him fail now!

“Aren’t you going to take me, then?”

Sumin recoils away from him as if he's been struck. 

"What?! No, not after what you've just told me!" Sumin's voice shakes with the effort it takes to keep it steady. His hands do too; digging into the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turn white. "I—you said this is your-your curse, right?" Jinsik nods. "Then everything that happened to you still isn't your fault. You don't mean to—" Sumin swallows roughly. "—to bewitch people like this, right?"

"Most of the time I don't. I really hate it sometimes, but not now." Jinsik leans in closer to Sumin as he speaks. "I mean it right now, Sumin. What are you going to do?"

Sumin is silent for a long, long moment. Jinsik doesn't take his eyes off him for a single second of it; watching his blown-out eyes roam over his body, the hot flush of arousal blooming across his face, the bob of his throat working around words that don't come out. 

"Nothing," Sumin finally says. His voice splinters on the word. "I won't be an animal just because you're cursed." Jinsik's bloody hand inches closer to his, so close that anyone else surely would have snapped. Sumin still doesn't move. "I won't touch you unless you—you, not your curse—want me to, jagi." 

Jinsik's breath halts in his lungs. 

"Yeobo, you're…" A delirious laugh bubbles up his throat. "You're the only person who has ever said that to me." He finally throws away his previous restraint and flings himself into Sumin's arms. As expected, Sumin yelps and tries to scramble away from him. 

"I—the first?!" he stammers. "That's just not right, jagi, just because you're cursed doesn't mean other people have the right to—" Jinsik kisses him before he can start rambling. This should be the true point of no return, right? Wrong. Sumin's hands still hover over him without making any contact. 

"Thank you, yeobo," Jinsik giggles against Sumin's lips. "I get the idea." Sumin nearly chokes to correct himself only for Jinsik to kiss him again. "I just had to make sure you wouldn't hurt me." Sumin's heart breaks before Jinsik's very eyes.

"Oh, jagi." He pulls Jinsik into a hug so tight that he can feel his heartbeat against him. "I would never. Curse or otherwise, I'll destroy myself before I ever let you be hurt." 

Heart melting, Jinsik shakes his head.

"I can recover from being hurt—I'm still alive after everything that's been done to me after all—but you can't. Not like I can." 

"Still—"

"Yeobo," Jinsik cuts in before Sumin and his morals can get ahead of himself. "I'm trying to tell you that out of all the pain that I've been put through, I'm ready to give myself to you." He extricates himself from Sumin's arms with a gentle hand and slides up the bed to nestle among his pillows, uncaring of the blood he smears behind him. "Come here." He flips the knife around in his hand and extends it to Sumin. "Take as much as you want from me."

Entranced, Sumin crawls up the bed until he's between Jinsik's legs. Trembling hands take the knife from his hands, fold it back up, and return it to the nightstand.

"I only want what you're willing to give me," he murmurs into the space between them. "I don't need a knife to show you that I love you." It's a lie that Jinsik easily spots in his eyes but one he indulges anyway. If Sumin is going to be this insistent on fighting Jinsik's curse for him, Jinsik might as well let him find his own way through. 

"Even if I want it?" Jinsik asks. He keeps his eyes locked on Sumin's to watch his pure soul flail against the madness of Jinsik's curse. His grin grows the more Sumin struggles, only to falter when Sumin wins yet again. 

"Do you want it or does your curse want it? I know this isn't something you can control but I don't like being played with, jagi." His gaze drops from Jinsik's eyes to his lips—still wanting but free of the curse's pull—safe territory. 

Jinsik hesitates. Now that he's still being denied the pain that he's been bracing himself for, he finds himself disappointed that it won't come. This he knows to be his own heart speaking; the curse only touches his body. His body that has grown to conflate pain with pleasure can only determine whether or not it's experiencing a sensation; his mind is the only thing that can determine if he wants said experience…

He nods.

"I want it. I trust that you'll take me apart to love me after everyone else has done it to control me." Sumin's eyes are fully lucid when they meet Jinsik's again. The relief in them is palpable and tinged with the love that Jinsik has grown used to seeing yet is still surprised to find. 

"I'll keep that in mind," he says with a bright smile, and then he's finally—finally—closing the space between them. Jinsik melts under him easily, lapping up his love just as eagerly as Sumin chases the taste of iron from his tongue. Sumin's hands trace the same route that his knife had sliced through Jinsik's arms only to find smooth, unbroken skin; the only evidence of that self-inflicted violence being the blood that now sticks to his fingers. 

He leaves red handprints on Jinsik's clothes as he flips them over so Jinsik is nestled in his lap; if he wants to bleed, it'll get on him too. Jinsik smiles against him; it's so cute how Sumin wants to drown in him. He won't let that happen just yet, pulling back to let Sumin breathe. 

"Jagi," Sumin growls in complaint. Uncaring of his need to breathe, he continues to kiss Jinsik everywhere he can reach; his cheeks, his jaws, his neck. 

"Yeobo," Jinsik whimpers. "Sumin, that hurts." Sumin frowns in confusion until Jinsik's hands bat at his own. His fingertips are red when he finally loosens the grip he didn't know he had on Jinsik's waist, his nails having left crescent-shaped punctures in Jinsik's otherwise unmarred skin. He jerks back at the sight as if he had been burned. 

"Oh shit," Sumin hisses. He pushes himself back against the headboard as if he can get away from Jinsik—who's still comfortably seated in his lap—and his own temptation to touch him again. "I'm so sorry jagi, are you—" 

"I told you, I trust you." Jinsik cuts him off with a finger to his lips before he can start spiralling. Sumin freezes mid-word, entranced by the coy smile on Jinsik's face. Such a sweet boy, this one; Jinsik finds himself endeared this time around. "I know what you want to do to me, yeobo. Go ahead. I want it too." He punctuates his words by bringing Sumin's hand up to his mouth. Keeping his eyes locked with Sumin's, he traces Sumin's bloody fingertips over his lips. It's as easy as applying his favourite lipstick despite the sharp tang of iron. Sumin's tongue darts out to catch another taste just for the hell of it, and his breath hitches as if Jinsik had punched it out of him. His pupils are blown wide open with nothing but love in their depths. Not a trace of Jinsik's curse, and yet… "Hurt me more, yeobo," he purrs. "Make me feel how much you love me." 

Ever obedient, Sumin needs no more direction before he's surging up to kiss Jinsik's blood off his lips. He chases the taste harder than a drug; past being a junkie, he becomes a beast in the way he licks and bites at Jinsik's lip for his blood. Got him. 

"So beautiful," Sumin growls in tandem with his nails returning to the wounds he's already made. "My angel. Where are your wings?" Jinsik bites his lip against a giggle as Sumin turns his attention from his lips to his neck. His tongue is hot against his skin, surely able to taste the blood rushing just underneath. 

"Me, an angel? You have too much faith in me, yeobo." Jinsik's heart still swells with fondness as he rejects Sumin's praise. It's then that Sumin chooses to bite down, hard and fast. He jerks his head like a beast—both to get his teeth deeper in and to deny Jinsik's denial. 

"S'not true," he mutters through his mouth that's quickly overflowing with blood and flesh. "They're right here." His hands snake up Jinsik's shirt along his back. His hands are reverent unlike the savage rip of his teeth and Jinsik feels dizzy; loved and desired, worshiped and desecrated. He can't decide which feeling he likes more. Sumin, the beast, soothes the wound in Jinsik's neck with tender licks and kisses, lapping up his blood like one would savour a particularly sweet honey. 

Now it's his hands' turn to deliver the pain; raking down Jinsik's back hard enough to leave lines of red welling up in their wake to stain and stick Jinsik's shirt to his skin. Tears roll down Jinsik's face in tandem with the blood on his back—tears of love, his life as his love that Sumin draws from him with the dig of his teeth or press of his lips. 

"Going to dig my wings out of me, yeobo?" Jinsik asks, his voice strained against the rough drag of his shirt against his wounds. 

"Mhm. Let me see you." Sumin's voice is slurred from all the blood in his mouth. Drunk on Jinsik's love. Sumin's hands leave him for only a moment; long enough for Jinsik to strip off his blood-soaked shirt and pass him the knife that's been lying neglected on the nightstand. He plunges it into Jinsik's back at the exact moment that Jinsik kisses him again, rough and sharp contrasting soft and tender. Sumin holds him as he chokes on his blood, laps it up from his lips while he shakes and spits up more. Such an eager puppy for any scraps of the death that he can never give him... Jinsik's in love. 

Unable to express this in words thanks to the knife that's left and returned for another strike in his other lung, he confesses through more breathless, bloody kisses. Sumin returns them with equal, if not even more intense fervor, having already fallen past love and obsession into insanity. 

"M'gonna find your wings," he whispers between kisses. "I'll find them and rip them out. You're my angel, I won't let you fly away to anyone else." True to his word as always, the knife returns to his back over and over again; slicing and splintering bone with every strike. Jinsik's lungs collapse somewhere between the fifth and seventh strike. Black spots that he's too weak to swat away dance in his vision. They interrupt his view of Sumin's pretty face, Jinsik wants to be rid of them. 

The knife is replaced by Sumin's searching hands. They search through the mess left behind and splatter Jinsik's ruined skin and their sheets—already soaked by the knife's ravaging—with blood and gore. Jinsik falls limp against Sumin's chest as he fondles his broken ribs from behind, his fingers dipping into the gashes between them as if they were a pussy—a thought that has Jinsik blushing despite everything else that Sumin has already done to him before. He wonders if Sumin could cut one into him, one day. 

His train of thought is interrupted by Sumin properly gripping his ribs and pulling. Some pieces are easily ripped from his flesh, some stubbornly cling to the rest of his frame. He at least has the sense to hold on to Sumin to help him, his head jerking back at the sudden resistance. Blood and drool run freely past his parted lips and make a mess of him that Sumin gladly cleans up with his tongue, all while his hands continue to twist and pull at Jinsik's ribs. The agony would be numbing if it wasn't for Jinsik's shot pain receptors, so overloaded that it only registers as white-hot pleasure. 

Just as Jinsik is blindly groping for the knife again, Sumin's hands plunge into the holes he's dug into him. 

"There you are." Jinsik can barely hear Sumin over the roar of blood in his ears. "Now let's take care of those wings, yeah?" His hands are on Jinsik's lungs before they can fill up with his response—not that they could with all the holes that have been punched through them. 

Sumin yanks them out in one smooth motion. They tear against the jagged edge of his still-bleeding bones, a rough, wet dragging of flesh and fluid and organs stopped only by the impact of cartilage against his spine. The pull is cut off with a flash of Sumin's knife. 

They're both soaked now, clothes and skin shining in varying shades of red. Jinsik had once associated it with the madness and rage that came with his curse; reviling how humanity chose to assign the dreadful colour to love instead. Now, however, having it pulled from him by Sumin, he understands. He craves more.

Sumin handles Jinsik's "wings" with a surprisingly gentle hand even as they drip blood all over him—then again he's already covered in it. He sets them aside next to his knife; "For later," he says, "I'll eat them once I'm done with you." Then, because he can never resist a joke: "Do you think they'll taste like chicken if I prepare them properly?" 

Jinsik would groan if he had the ability. He rolls his eyes so hard they nearly drop into the back of his head instead; a grievance that Sumin rushes to placate. His chest spasms in weak, futile attempts to keep filling lungs that are no longer there, his throat working around nothing while Sumin kisses him through his perpetual death throes. They will never end permanently; only taper off as his corrupted body is forced to heal over and over again as Sumin continues to destroy him. Continues to love him. 

"Sorry, sorry." He seals each apology with a kiss, so sweet that Jinsik can only accept. He can feel himself healing at the press of Sumin's lips; flesh knitting itself back together strand by strand to pull cracked bones back into place, nerves and veins zinging as they reconnect and resume their flow. Sumin is oddly patient this time around; his hands only tracing soothing patterns over his skin instead of digging in for more. Then again he's never hurt Jinsik this deeply—never loved Jinsik this deeply before. Perhaps he doesn't want to push. Jinsik's throat jerks in what might be a sigh—still impossible until his lungs have fully grown back—of endearment. Sumin is truly too sweet for him. 

"You're so beautiful like this, jagi," Sumin whispers. His eyes are closed while he licks the blood off Jinsik's skin. "Feels so good to know you're mine." Jinsik would whimper if he could. Sumin soothes his needy twitches with another kiss, soft and sweet and full of blood. His touch is gentle on Jinsik's back; feather-light on his newly grown skin. The ridge of broken bone is still visible underneath as it knits back together. Jinsik flinches at the touch. "Sorry," Sumin whispers, his voice tinged with remorse. Funny that he's only apologizing now after all he's done. "How are you feeling?" Jinsik chokes on his answer; words aren't going to be possible for a good while yet. 

He raises a blood-drenched hand to Sumin's, turning it around and opening his beloved's fingers to trace a messy red heart on his palm. Just to affirm his green light, he presses a kiss to the corner of Sumin's mouth. He leaves a shining red mark reminiscent of a lipstick stain that curves out of place as Sumin smiles at him. He's still so cute even when covered in his blood and the flush of sex high on his cheeks…

Jinsik spots the exact moment that Sumin’s heart melts; oozing slow and slick all over himself. No doubt this will make him sticky—well, even stickier than he already is—once he's fully ruined Jinsik. 

"I love you too." 

Jinsik's heart nearly stops for the first time in centuries. Had he really been that obvious? Of all the times he's ever been the first to say he loves someone, this is the only time he's meant it—and he hadn't even said it out loud! 

"Please don't be scared, jagi." Sumin's voice breaks him out of his panic. "Let me be good to you, my love." Jinsik melts under his words and his touch. What else can he do when Sumin truly is so good to him? "Are you okay to lie down?" Jinsik nods and lets Sumin push him down to the bed even though his skin has barely healed enough to keep his fractured bones inside him. It's fine, he likes how it hurts. 

Sumin is none the wiser, kissing him briefly before moving down to finally free him of the sticky, wet mess that is his pants. Jinsik chokes out a groan as the fabric is pulled—peeled, really—from his skin. He hadn't even noticed how uncomfortable it had been to be stuck in those while Sumin had his way with him. 

"Oh, jagi," Sumin coos. "I've made a mess of you, haven't I? Let me clean you up." He's kissing a line down Jinsik's chest to his cock—still hard despite everything—and taking him into his mouth before Jinsik can respond—not like he can, with the blood gurgling up in his throat. He doesn't have the lungs to moan with yet so he only chokes while Sumin takes him down to the hilt; cleans him up with his tongue in that way that never fails to make him cry. He's been crying for a long time; it's a wonder how he hasn't dropped from dehydration yet. Another thing to worry about later, he supposes. 

Sumin's teeth sink into his inner thigh hard enough to make him gasp—a proper gasp with air mixed in the blood this time—as if the cruel flick to his weeping cockhead wasn't enough to get his attention. 

"Stay with me, jagi. I'm not finished with you yet." he growls. Don't be, Jinsik begs internally; I'm yours forever, keep cutting until there's nothing left, just don't ever finish with me. Don't leave, don't grow bored of me. There's still too much blood built up in Jinsik's throat for him to say it out loud, so he hopes his gurgling whine will suffice. "Good boy," Sumin purrs. He kisses the head where he had flicked him, wet and open-mouthed in time with his hand jacking him off like something out of his most filthy wet dream. 

It isn't much longer before Jinsik is making a mess of himself under his beloved's lips; streaks of white joining the red already soaking his face and dripping down into a pretty pink that Sumin eagerly laps up. He's the perfect picture of debauched as he reaches for the knife again, and his voice is thoroughly wrecked when he speaks again: "Once you have your lungs back, I want to ask you something." 

He asks about as casually as one would talk about the weather, as if Jinsik isn't lying slit-throat and boneless on his bloodied sheets. He had already been light-headed from the blood gathered in his throat; that combined with his orgasm has him teetering dangerously close to unconsciousness. Not that he would mind if Sumin kept going while he was out, but… 

With the last vestige of his strength, he rolls onto his side so the near waterfall of his own blood can drain out of his mouth. It flows past their sheets onto the floor like a tide, cresting and receding in time with his body's weak struggles to keep his airways clear. Sumin just laughs fondly at his pain, too preoccupied with gathering the bloody cum from his face on his fingers and licking it off. 

"Go ahead," Jinsik wheezes, about as smoothly as if he had swallowed a shot of acid. There's still an odd bubbling sound to his words, but at least he's properly audible now. "You know that I'd let you do anything to me as long as you still love me, right?" 

"I know, and I do. God, I love you, Jinsik." The use of his name rather than the petname—rather generic, still thrilling when it came from Sumin's lips—stings ever so slightly until Sumin crawls up the bloody bed to kiss him. Jinsik would have expected anything other than the tenderness that Sumin presses to his lips. He kisses him like it's their wedding night, Jinsik's delirious brain supplies; and oh, how he would love for that to be reality. He'd wear the most pristine white just so Sumin could tear him apart and permanently dye it red. He faintly registers that he's been doing it to Sumin this entire time; every thrust of his knife has pulled another spray of red to stain the white shirt that he's still wearing. Jinsik's love has nearly drenched him. Is there something he's forgetting? 

"Yeobo," he whimpers against Sumin's lips. "Didn't you want to ask me something?" 

"Huh?" Sumin slurs. There's a mess of red smudged all over his face when he pulls back; swaying. Drunk on him. "Oh, right. I just…" He takes Jinsik's wrists and pins then above his head with surprising speed. "I wanna claim you, jagi. Can I, can I?" Jinsik spots the knife gleaming above him in Sumin's free hand. Not a threat, just a promise waiting on Jinsik's approval. 

"Please."

Sumin plunges the knife down as soon as the word leaves Jinsik's lips. Three times it parts the soft skin of Jinsik's arm, twisting about inside his flesh and between his bones. Twice it penetrates Jinsik's throat, deep enough to make him gag against its sharp edge. 

"Mine... You're all mine, jagiya," Sumin purrs between fervent kisses to Jinsik's bleeding neck. 

"Yours," Jinsik chokes out through another gush of blood. It runs down his lips and stains his skin in an unending river, his blessing that had once been a curse and is now a blessing again. His embrace tightens around Sumin's back and pulls the wound in his arm wider. More blood pours down his skin and stains Sumin's white shirt; how ironic that his life should touch Sumin like this. His love touches Sumin like this.

"I love you." Sumin's words are punctuated with the final thrust of his knife between Jinsik's ribs and piercing his heart. "I'm keeping you like this forever." 

Jinsik comes again with a broken cry. Both Sumin’s words and his knife reach deeper inside him than anything that Jinsik’s past lovers have touched him with and it’s more than he can bear, more than he's ever taken at once. Sumin watches him fall apart with nothing short of wonder. 

"Here I was thinking it was hard to come from being penetrated," he mutters under his breath; a joke meant only for himself. 

"You—" Jinsik spits out yet another mouthful of blood. "—clearly underestimate me." A devious idea lights up in his head once Sumin's joke registers and he grins up at him, his tongue curling around his teeth. "Want to fuck me with that knife?"

Sumin startles and pulls it halfway out, blood spurting out around it with every bump of its rough handle against his ribs. Jinsik, already trembling from oversensitivity, cries out in pleasure. Light-headed again from blood loss, Jinsik slurs out another joke. "So nice of you to use one with a ridged handle, yeobo. Feels sooo good inside me~" 

Sumin thrusts the knife back inside him with an endeared huff. 

"You're insane," he sighs over Jinsik's choked moan. "Good thing I am too, I had a similar idea." He pulls the knife all the way out before Jinsik can ask about it, leaving him to bleed while he finally strips off his bloodstained clothes. 

Sumin's naked body is truly a sight to behold. He's still decently toned despite being softer than Jinsik from more time spent at an easel than the gym, his strength stemming from a childhood spent playing sports out in the sun. He still casually indulges every time the weather permits him, his clumsy legs and arms easily carrying him through match after match that Jinsik is all too content to watch. 

Jinsik lets Sumin manhandle him farther up the bed and prop him against the soaked pillows, woozy from what little blood he has left in him rushing back down to his dick. 

"Like what you see, jagi?" 

Black spots dance about in Jinsik's already-blurred vision, but he nods anyway. He'll be sure to get on his knees to properly worship Sumin's cock later when he can actually see it. 

"That's a relief, I was getting self-conscious after seeing you." Jinsik can only manage a whine in protest. "I know, I know, you want to try and brush me off. Not going to happen, jagi." Sumin's blurry silhouette moves again, likely reaching for the knife. Sure enough, the blood-warmed metal presses against the skin under Jinsik's ribs a moment later. "You can get back at me later, just let me have this for now."

His words are punctuated by a thrust of the knife into Jinsik's skin, beneath and up into the soft flesh under his bones. He pulls it out and turns it perpendicular to its previous angle, driving it in again to widen the wound while Jinsik cries and writhes under him. Jinsik can faintly see his blood staining Sumin's skin with his hazy eyes. His bleeding heart has yet to heal—not that it could with Sumin's fingers working their way inside it. It squirts red halfway to Sumin's elbow, soaking it in blood that he then smears all over his cock. Lubing himself up. Oh, is he going to—

The answer to Jinsik's unspoken question comes with Sumin lining himself up with the dripping hole under his ribs and pushing his way between Jinsik's organs. The pressure against his freshly-regenerated lungs punches a breathless moan from him and he nearly blacks out, kept conscious only by the wave of pleasure that overtakes him. Sumin doesn't stop until he's buried to the hilt and Jinsik swears his dick is touching his heart, the intrusion twitching in time with his pounding pulse. While the knife had done a decent enough job at prepping him, his flesh still stretches around Sumin's cock in a way that has Jinsik's head spinning. 

"Fuck, jagi," Sumin groans. He knocks his head against the wall, fighting to keep his ragged breath steady. "You're so wet for me. M'not gonna last long like this." Jinsik heart—while physically bleeding—metaphorically soars at the admission. He affects Sumin this much?

"Hurry 'n fuck me then," Jinsik slurs. "Dare you t'come inside." 

"You're gonna kill me," Sumin whines, high and wrecked. "You're seriously going to fucking kill me." He starts moving after a moment's hesitation, his hands braced against his headboard for leverage. 

He fucks Jinsik slow but deep, each thrust touching his heart and punching a bloody, breathless moan from him. Jinsik's body convulses with every intrusion, each nerve set alight in his overstimulation. 

"You feel so good around me," Sumin moans. "Always so good for me." His rhythm starts to grow sloppy as he chases his own pleasure. "Fuck, I love you so much." 

Sumin's praise—along with the sensory overload that he's putting Jinsik through—finally tips him over the edge yet again, his neglected cock coming untouched for the second time tonight. 

"Sumin—yeobo—please," Jinsik cries, his voice trembling as he shakes through his orgasm. "Use me. Inside." 

Sumin's only response is a curse under his breath and a change of pace, fast and hard until there's a wet slapping sound accompanying his thrusts. Something tears inside Jinsik at the same time Sumin stills with a low groan, coming hot and heavy under Jinsik's ribs until it overflows. Jinsik can faintly feel it coating his heart and can't help the delirious smile that spreads across his face. No one else has ever had him this way. No one else ever will. 

"I love you," Sumin moans, breathless and shaky. "I love you so fucking much." 

Cum and blood gushes from Jinsik's ruined hole in a pink tide when Sumin pulls out of him. He rushes to lap it up, green hair staining red the instant his head rests against Jinsik's chest. 

"Love you too," Jinsik sighs. "More than anything." 

Sumin kisses him then, soft and sweet and tasting like both of them. Jinsik chases after it, too weak to do much more than suck it off Sumin's tongue while he recovers. His skin grows back together first and seals Sumin's release inside him, safe and warm in his chest.

Realistically he knows his body will reject it eventually, but at least for now he's content with knowing that he has a part of Sumin right next to his heart for the night. 

[paranormalactivity5]

♡Dirty laundry ♡

Warnings: PWP, Mdom/Fsub, oral sex (both receiving), spit, dacryphilia degrading, squirting, slapping, reader is bi/pan but it’s barely mentioned

A/N: I had to include the twd:towl reference because Daddy Rick and Mommy Michonne made me 

WC: 2.5k

See gojo was usually an amazing husband, hot, funny, charismatic, and attentive, but of course, he has his faults, one of which being, he hates doing laundry, which pans out just amazing because you also hate doing laundry.  You had a deal, you cooked and cleaned the bathrooms, he did dishes and laundry, now he was good at the first part, granted he never does it without a playful water fight, but he would still do everything to get out of doing laundry. when you realized that all the fancy late-night dinners after work and beautiful new clothes were distracting you, you had just got off early and decided to go home to cook satoru a nice dinner and you spilled some oil on your shirt so you went into your room to change, and then you saw it. I mean you had definitely seen your bedroom within the past week but the view was always crowded by lust or fatigue so you hadn’t saw it and when you did, you could have killed him. Clothes that had been thrown across the room on hot nights had not been picked up as you thought, just stuffed in a corner. He arrived home from work, immediately comforted by the smell of your cooking, but  when he sees the look on your face he knows he’s been caught. Like he always does, he tried to talk his way out of it, which he is usually successful in, but not this time. When that failed he did the next best thing he could think of, he tried to use his body to get out of it, but oh was that a bad idea, because it gave you the perfect one.  Just as he began to place open mouth kisses on your neck, muttering smooth apologies, it hit you, what could you do to truly make satoru gojo understand that you were serious? What would truly get it through his thick skull? Sex ban.  When satoru heard that string of words leave your mouth he thought the world was going to end, don’t get me wrong satoru loves you for every part of you, your face, your mind, your soul, but he also really loved your body. He spent the next 3 hours doing every possible chore he could think of to no avail. 

It had been 3 days since the ban started, and it wasn’t only affecting satoru, as much as you hate to admit it you need him just as bad as he needs you, and he knew that. He wasn’t gunna be the only one suffering throughout this ban he had decided, intentionally wearing as little as possible, sometimes opting for nothing, doing pull ups on the bar he installed a few months ago. It was now Sunday and you were ready to burst at the seam from built up tension, the premier episode of “The Ones Who Live” not helping, currently texting your best friend Karmen about how delicious Rick looked in that all black outfit and harness, your mind wandering to the image of satoru wearing those things. Just as the episode ended satoru walked into the room, he figured it was better to wait till your show was over. He dropped to his knees in front of your place on the couch. “Please my love, I’m sorry, I can’t take not touching you, not being inside you” He leaned in as he said the last part, you could feel his hot breath on your thigh. after a 3 day ban those words sounded like the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. The thing is, you were waiting for this moment, you had forgiven satoru the first night when he did every chore in the house, but you wanted to see him all worked up, you knew the pounding you would get when you finally gave in would make it all worth it. All your resolve crumbled immediately and you practically dove into him, teeth clashing in the roughness of the kiss, his hands gripped your waist, one reaching down to grab the swell of your legging clad ass and squeeze. Your hands rub the softness of his slightly grown out undercut, then they trail down the nape of his neck; it never failed to send electricity through his body, no matter how many times you did it

He dove forward, pushing you back onto the couch and crawling on top of you. The room filled with sounds of sloppy, needy kissing. His hand trailed down your body, making sure to take his time and show his love for your tits. He drug the tips of his fingers against your sides, sending shivers down your spine. Once his hand finally reached the hem of your leggings it stopped there for a second, and just the tips of his fingers broke past the hem and ran back and forth across your abdomen. Even when he was as worked up as he is, he would never miss a chance to tease you; you had a feeling there would be a lot of that as payback for putting him on this ban. He lead open mouthed kisses down your navel and onto the tops of your breasts.

He used his unoccupied hand to pull down the top of your tank top, which you of course had gone braless under. As your tits fell out his mouth immediately attached to your nipple “So beautiful baby. Fucin’ perfect” he mumbled, barely understandable with his mouth full of your tit. His other hand finally broke past the hem of your leggings and inched down till he reached your cunt, sopping with need for him. His long nimble fingers trailed light circles on your throbbing clit  then dipping down to your weeping hole, and then back up, and then down, he continued this action for far too long in your opinion. Your head thrown back letting out whines and gasps “Please ‘toru….” you pathetically whine out. He releases his mouth from your nipple “Please what baby? Come on, you’re a good smart girl, and good smart girls use their words. So, what is it? Please what?” The sound of his voice when he says this makes you want him even more. So as embarrassing as it is, you comply. “You ‘toru…need you” you whine out, god if anyone heard this they’d think you were some pathetic slut; which, you were. Satorus pathetic slut. “Gunna have to be more specific honey…what do you want from me? Where do you want it?” He was always this way, he always made you say what you wanted from him, how bad you wanted him. You knew that this wasn’t just sexual, you knew that you saying how badly you wanted him healed his insecurities that he may not be enough for you. “Your hands, your mouth” “and where do you want them? You want them here?” As he runs his hand along your inner thigh. Fucking tease. “Want  ‘em on my pussy ‘toru” You all but pout when you say it, at this point you were sick of the games, you needed him.

When he heard this a smirk immediately splayed across his mouth. “atta girl” You were thinking about how you wanted to kiss slap that smirk right off of his face until he finally gave in and started rubbing tight circles on your clit, and his mouth met where you needed him most. You were letting out moans of pure lust, gripping and pulling his hair, in turn causing him to moan into your pussy, sending the vibrations through your body. Your legs begin to pull in, wrapping around his head. Before you can get too far in this action, his veiny hand grips your thigh holding it back. He’s still lapping and sucking at your pussy, going between tounge-fucking you and sucking on your pretty, sensitive clit, and you can feel the band in your abdomen beginning to tighten. Then he sucks your clit all while using his tongue to trace figure eights around it, and that’s what causes that tightening band to snap. White spots cloud your vision, and your back arches, your grip on his hair does not lessen, neither do the efforts of his mouth. At this point, you don’t know whether to push him away or pull him in. Before you can decide he rises, his face glistening in your slick, god, he always looked like an angel like this, when doing the most sinful things. 

He climbs back up and kisses you hard, you can taste yourself on him; you understand why he loves the taste so much. You begin to push yourself up and now he is below you on the couch, with you in his lap. You suckle onto his jawline, sure to leave marks tomorrow, which satoru loved, he would say you were “marking your territory” (that joke turned you on more than you would like to admit). You ran your hands down his rock hard chest, the years of jujutsu training serving him well, you stop for a second to play with his hard nipple, He'd never admit how sensitive his nipples were. Your hand kept going down rubbing against his abs, you swear you could ride just them, you might just try, but that’ll have to wait, you have one thing on your mind right now, to please your your man. You toy with the strings of his sweatpants, it’s then that you notice the wet pre-cum stain on the front, he must have been grinding into the couch while he pleased you. now you were going to return the favor. You slip off the edge of the couch and drop to your knees in front of him.

“I was so mean to you, ‘toru, lemme make it up to you?” You look up at him with doe eyes “Please” he whimpers out and spreads his thighs. You pull his sweats down just enough to free his aching cock, a long shaft, not much darker than his creamy skin tone, a pinkish purpleish mushroom head, and trimmed white hairs on the base. You place a small kiss on the tip and then start tracing your tongue along his slit. He lets out a gasp as soon as your mouth makes contact with him, his hips involuntarily buck up. You begin to take more of him into your mouth, eventually taking him to the hilt, feeling the burn in your throat, and your eyes begin to water, but you fight through. You bring a hand up to lightly massage his heavy balls and start bobbing your head up and down. He moans at the action but still, you know what would really make it up to him. You pull back a bit, take his hand in your own, and place it on the back of your head, for the first time, his head comes forward and he looks at you for confirmation, you nod to the best of your ability. He immediately begins bucking his hips, and moving your head back and forth, starting off slow. As your throat loosens and adjusts to the intrusion he speeds up his pace, truly fucking your face now. “fuck…so pretty like this…letting me use that slutty mouth for whatever I please” You moan at his words, the vibration triggering a groan from him. Just as you begin to feel him get closer, he pulls you off. “Nuh uh, my first load in three days is going in your pussy”

He easily picks you up, and you wrap your arms around his waist and keep sucking hickeys into his collarbones as he Carries you up to your shared bedroom. 

Once you make it into the room and past another load of undone laundry he lays you down on the bed, he pulls your leggings off, and sheds himself of his sweatpants. He rests your legs on his shoulders and places a quick kiss on your ankle. He begins to rub his fat cock between your wet folds, you’re practically dripping for him. “Fuck such a perfect pussy…look at her trying to suck me in. I knew you were dying without me, sluts like you can’t go that long without getting fucked” Even thought you could tell he wanted you just as bad, the arousal clear in his voice. “Please ‘toru….put it in, please fuck me” That's all it takes for him to finally push himself inside you, and you feel the beautiful burn of him stretching you out. He lets out an almost pornographic moan when he’s finally inside you, he’ll never get over the way your velvety walls feel wrapped around him.

He sets a fast pace of fucking you that had your eyes rolling back in your head. “Yeah? You like that?” He asks, even though he already knows the answer. You try to answer him anyway, but you’re too fucked out to even think so all that comes out is a small “y” sound between moans. Tears begin to prick in your eyes from how good he’s fucking you, as soon as he notices this it adds fuel to the fire inside him. “Aww, you cryin’? Huh? Cryin’ for my cock?” You can only moan and whine in response. He pulls out, but before you can even complain about the emptiness, he’s got you flipped on your stomach, pulling you up into doggy, pressing your back down into a deep arch, and filling you up again. He’s fucking into you relentlessly, abusing that sensitive spot inside you. He slaps your ass, watching it jigglr from the impact then reaches forward and wraps his hand around your throat, applying pressure to your pulse points. “Open.” He orders, and you open. He lets out a cocky chuckle “Look at you, such a cock drunk slut, don’t even question me.” And as soon as he’s done speaking a fat glob of spit falls from his lips to your tongue. The second it hits your tongue you moan and your pussy clenches, this doesn't go unnoticed by satoru. “Yeah? Felt your pussy clench down on me, like being treated like a worthless whore? Yeah, I know you do” Your fists ball, white knuckling the sheets and an unfamiliar feeling begins forming in your abdomen.

The feeling is foreign but it’s not a bad one so you let it keep developing, plus you can feel satoru getting closer, his thrusts getting sloppier, and you can practically feel him throbbing inside you. As he keeps bullying into you, the feeling in your abdomen gets stronger and stronger until it snaps. You could swear you passed out for a second, liquid gushing from between your legs, your whole body shaking. You can hear satoru letting out a string of curses as he reaches his peak as well, the image of you and the feel of your perfect pussy clenching down on him sending him over the edge. He bottoms out, releasing his load, as his balls contract and he fills you to the brim. “Shit. Holy fuck that was hot, you’re doing that again” Oh yeah, you were in for it tonight

[2anxious2betrue]

Happy Marriage

Warnings: mature material, sex scene, future non-con/rape, dark fic, “dead dove do not eat”, the 1940s gender dynamics

Note: This is my first time positing a story of tumblr, you can also find my other works on ArchivesOfOurOwn, my username there is QueenSketch.

Summary: Soldier boy is looking for his wife, has anyone seen her? Its been many years, and he has come back ready to have a happy marriage. Too bad she doesn't see it that way.

Part 1:

The television light illuminated your cramped living room space, bringing dread and despair from today’s news. 

“A massive explosion occurred today in the middle of the city, a security camera was able to catch the scene in action. As we can see here, a blast of light bursts out of this man’s chest into the building, killing 79 innocent bystanders”

The video zooms into the person, showing a disheveled male with a beard and side swept hair. The video was blurry, but you had a horrible gut feeling telling you that you know that person.  

“We are currently not certain of who this person is, but there have been speculations that this person may be Soldier Boy. A once beloved hero. If this is truly him, what has happened? There has been no updates from Vought yet but channel 2 news will keep you updated”.

The concerned and stern face of the news anchor fades out as you click your remote to shut down the television. Your heart is racing. No this can’t be real, you were free of him. You have been free for over a decade. This must be a mistake. 

Your mind began to jump from one concern to the next, your breathing increased but it felt as if no oxygen was getting through your lungs. You were spiraling and you knew it, but nothing could help you now if he was truly back. 

You closed your eyes and tried to think, tried to brainstorm a plan. You could move, he wouldn’t be able to find you. You changed your name, no one knows who you truly are. No one knows your past or what you have done. Yes you could move and with today’s technology at your fingertips, you could easily be safely hidden away from him. 

1946 

The radio was playing a nice soft melodic song, you hummed along to it as you were preparing dinner. Your dress swayed with you as you moved your body to the beat of the song. You could hear the front door open, but you were so entranced with the song and your movements that you continued along. 

“Honey, I’m home”

The deep barrel of your husband’s voice took you out of your trance. You patted your apron down, put on your best smile, and went to greet your husband. He was still in the doorway, his dark green and black suit on defining all of his muscles and built. He was taking off his shoes, as you approached him. 

“Welcome home deer” 

He opened his arms as he welcomed your embrace, you stood on your tippy toes to hug him and give a small kiss to his cheek. He chuckled into your embrace. 

“I've missed you”. He says to you, your smile gets brighter. “I’ve missed you more, I have dinner almost ready. Clean up and come downstairs”. 

“It smells delicious, but I would rather eat you all up”. He sends you a smirk and a twinkle in his eye. 

You shew him away before he tries to grab you. “Oh silly you”, you laugh at him and head back to the kitchen, as you are about to pass the door frame you hear him say something. 

“What was that honey?” You yell back. 

“I have a surprise for you, I can give it to you after dinner. When we have some fun upstairs”. His tone of voice seems deeper to you, you think it's because he has a big appetite for sex. Especially after he became a supe. 

“Oh you didn’t have to, but can’t wait”. 

You hear his heavy footsteps going up the stairs, and carry on back to the kitchen to set the table and finish up. 

After dinner, you clean everything from the table as Ben goes to sit down on the couch and relax. He has such a hard job and passion of being a superhero, he does so much for the world, you just wish that you could be a comfort for him. You begin to wash the dishes, but you feel a heavy hand rest on your shoulder. That startles you. 

“Oh goodness Ben, I didn’t notice you”. He gives you a tight smile. 

“Is something wrong?” You ask. 

He is a head taller then you, his height looms over you as he looks deep into your eyes. His hazel/gray eyes bring love and desire into you, but at this moment they seem off. He leans towards you and captures your lips with his own. His lips move skillfully with yours, bringing butterflies into your stomach. 

You lean away from him to catch a breath and smile up at him. He closes the water faucet and takes your hand into his. He leads you away from the kitchen, up the stairs, and into your bedroom. 

He seems more impatient today than usual but you comply with his actions. He pushes you onto your bed, forcing you to sit on the edge of it. 

“Strip” 

You slowly reach back to untie your apron but before you can pull it over yourself he stops you. 

“Keep that on”. 

You nod your head, and silently ask him to pull down the zipper of your dress. He sits close to you, his breath fanning on your neck as he gently pulls down the zipper. As he unzips the dress, he trails the zipper down and plants small kisses on the way. His final kiss was at the bottom of your back. 

You stand up to step away from the dress. Frilly light green bra and panties still on. You look at your husband sitting in front of you, your eyelids half open sending a sultry look towards him. 

“Aren’t you going to take anything off?”

He wags his leather gloved finger no at you. You could feel your panties getting damp as the seconds go by. 

You un-clip your bra and let it fall to the floor, the apron is still covering your front. You teasingly turn your back towards him, and slowly pull your panties down giving your husband a show. 

You hear his belt clink and then his zipper goes down. You glance towards him and see him stroking his girthy cock, pre-cum glistening at the top. You gulp down saliva, and go on all fours towards him. He gives you a knowing look, as he spreads his thighs for you to fit. 

You look up at him, his dark gaze looking deep at you. You nod your head and move closer to his inviting cock waiting for your attention. You first lick the shaft of it. Once, twice, three times. He shudders each time, a small groan escaping his mouth. That encourages you as you fully take his head into your mouth. It pulsates as you swirl your tongue around and put more of him in. 

He becomes impatient and thrusts his hips into you. You oblige and move your head up and down, while gently massaging his balls. Groans of pleasure escape him, and you know he is almost at his limit. You could feel your pussy throbbing and getting wet from pleasuring him. Before he cums into your mouth, he pulls himself out. 

His actions confuse you, as he pulls you up. He turns you around and pushes you on the bed on all fours. You spread your legs, ready to take him. He aligns himself towards your entrance and swiftly thrusts in. He begins with a steady pace but becomes more frantic with each stroke. 

You could feel your own climax coming, he would hit the right spot each time. One of his hands was massaging your right breast, twisting the nipple and bringing more pleasure towards you. Each sensation became more and more, until finally you felt release. 

The feeling of completion didn’t last long. You felt a sharp stab towards the middle of your back, a forceful injection. The pain was unbearable as this unknown substance was forced into your organism. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, burning, but also as if you were buried in ice. Tears sprung down your face as you sobbed and screamed in agony. 

Ben was still inside of you as he held you to himself. You could hear him saying something, but the agony was too much.  

The last thing you heard him say before you blacked out was “This way we will always be together”. 

Part 2: https://2anxious2betrue.tumblr.com/post/688641447595016192/happy-marriage-part-2

[shorkbrian]

A Midsommar Night’s Dream

Prelude - I watched midsommar so have this.

Pairing - Izuku X reader X Todoroki males

Warnings - NSFW, dead dove, do not eat. Implied incest, cult-like behaviors. Dubcon.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/7clyJIrLkEbXUDwj1tC9zz?si=EK3gCdOHQ3WQeK-ed9eucg 

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Izuku’s been officially dating you for three weeks.

Three weeks.

He’s known you for far longer - the two of you solid friends since you first met. The man doesn’t know when friendship had evolved into something more, but he’s sure glad it did.

You were sweet, and kind, and far too caring for your own good. You didn’t mind waiting up for Izuku when his nights ran late, studying for his masters or taking on extra shifts.

You would rub his shoulders when he got stressed, offer to make him tea or run him a bath or anything else he needed, anything to help out. You loved him, and he loved you.

Tonight was a night that many partners might fear - meeting the family.

But Izuku was hardly worried. He was best friends with your brother Shouto, a level-headed student with good work ethics and a dry sense of humor. The rest of the family couldn’t be that bad.

A simple dinner, you had told him, dress casual and no gifts required. Still, Izuku felt obligated to bring the finest bottle of bourbon his paycheck could afford him (he’d asked Shouto what your father’s favorite was, just to be safe).

The Todoroki household was impressive; massive and imposing in the countryside, surrounded by tall stone walls and looking straight out of a victorian romance novel. Izuku knows what those look like, because he’s seen them on the covers of the romance novels you like to read. He’s always doing his best to pay attention to your likes and dislikes.

“Izuku!” came your excited little voice as the door opened after his loud knock, and the green-haired man couldn’t stop himself from breaking out in a smile.

You were almost bouncing in excitement behind your older brother Shouto as he held the door open, taking the offered bottle of bourbon from Izuku with a nod before leaving you alone together in the foyer.

“Hey, missed you-” Izuku grunted as you attacked him in a hug, and a laugh bubbled out of you both when the solid man had to take a step backwards from  the push of your body.

“Missed you too! I’m so excited for tonight, it’s so good that Dad and the rest of the family are accepting you.” A quick kiss to his cheek distracted Izuku.

You were fairly comfortable with physical touch, resting your head on his shoulder, never afraid to snuggle up to his side on movie nights, or hold his hand out in public (especially now that the two of you were dating). But Izuku had honestly expected more.... sensuality once the two of you started seeing each other as lovers more than just friends.

He had asked to kiss you one night, after you’d made him dinner and rubbed his shoulders and listened to him talk about the latest subject he was studying. Izuku had felt his heart warm, like cold wax cradled over a flame, and his love for you was bursting out of his chest. He wanted to kiss you and hold you close, tell you how much he loved you.

You had just smiled shyly and shook your head, saying you wanted to wait a bit. Which Izuku understood! This was all new, going from friends-to-dating, and he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable in any way. He was willing to wait.

So the kiss to his cheek surprised him, made him stutter and blush and hug you a bit tighter.

Then you were taking his hand, leading him through the maze of a house. He couldn’t help but notice the old-timey decorations mixed in with the more modern features, but done in an elegant, timeless fashion. A good blend of old mixed with new.

Stepping into the large dining room hand-in-hand with you, Izuku was met with the sight of the entire Todoroki family.

“Everybody-” You started, catching their attention until every set of eyes was on you and the tall man by your side. “This is Izuku!”

Shouto stepped forward, closest to the pair of you, and set his hand on Izuku’s shoulder with a smile. “Glad to have you joining the family.” 

Izuku smiled back, pulling his friend into a hug and giving him a hearty pat on the back.

“This is Fuyumi-” A tap to Izuku’s shoulder had him turning around, stepping away from Shouto to shake your sister’s hand. 

“Hi Izuku, I’ve heard such good things about you.” Her voice was soft and gentle, almost like your own. Izuku could see the family resemblance between the two of you. 

“And this is Natsuo, he’s studying for his masters just like you.” A white-haired man approached him, friendly and open, ready to shake Izuku’s hand but ultimately pulling him into a hug. 

“Sorry, I’m a hugger.” Natsuo laughed, and Izuku shrugged, completely unbothered.

“Here’s Touya.” You introduced a redhead next, a man sitting almost sullenly at the table. He didn’t rise to his feet, didn’t even take Izuku’s offered handshake. 

“This is the guy you’ve been babbling about? He looks bori-”

“Touya.”  The room, already hushed, grew even more silent, almost heavy with the weight of the voice from the man at the head of the table.

The gangly redhead shut his mouth, looking ready to roll his eyes. You pulled Izuku past him towards the imposing man who was looking at the man at your side, appraising him.

“And this is my dad. Dad, this is Izuku.”

“A pleasure to meet you sir.” Izuku shook the mans large hand, and the man nodded solemnly.

“Sit down, we’re ready to eat.”

-----

Dinner wasn’t a quiet affair. Comfortable conversation flowed easily between everyone; questions about Izuku’s degree, about his goals, his dreams, his job. He knew it was just everyone getting to know him, assurance that he was suitable for their daughter. Izuku wanted to be perfect for you, anything and everything you needed.

Enji (Izuku was not about to call your father dad) asked only a few questions, otherwise decidedly quiet at his spot at the table, chewing his food while watching Izuku respond to the rest of his family. 

It was mainly Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto keeping the conversation flowing, Izuku easily keeping up with whatever they decided to talk about, asking engaging questions of his own about the family members he’d just met, laughing easily whenever you made a pun or Shouto’s dry humor jumped out.

Everything seemed to be going well. 

Fuyumi asked to be excused, saying she needed to go prepare, and Enji waved her off easily, telling you to go with her. You rose from your chair easily, but not before catching Izuku’s hand and giving it a squeeze, eyes shining as you leaned close to whisper “See you in a bit.”.

“You really love her?” Touya asked as soon as the two women left the room to go prepare dessert, leaving Izuku alone with the male Todoroki’s. Izuku assumed this would be when he gets the shake-down, the usual “Hurt her and we’ll kill you” talk.

“So much. Sometimes I feel like I love her so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.” Izuku confessed.

“She talks about you a lot. I think she feels the same way that you do.” Natsuo supplied from across the table, and Izuku felt his cheeks flush, his heart flutter. It was one thing to know you loved someone - to feel the warmth and peace it brought to your soul. It was another to know that they loved you back; it made him feel whole.

“I've seen how you treat her, I think the two of you are a good match.” Shouto said, and Izuku smiled at his friend. Shouto had been his buddy since high school, truthfully was the reason that Izuku and you had met. You’d come along with Shouto one day when he’d come to hang out with Izuku, and the two of you had become fast friends.

Natsuo was rising from the table, walking back to the little shelf along one wall where various drinks sat (and Izuku’s bourbon gift). Izuku watched the man begin to pour out a red liquid, before his attention was caught by Shouto leaving the table as well, taking his plate and exiting the room.

Then Natsuo was placing a glass of the red liquid down in front of Izuku. “Don’t worry, this is nothing more than homemade punch.” He said as Izuku eyed it.

“It’s tradition.”  Touya growled and Izuku found himself taken aback at the heat in the other man’s voice. Was the redhead angry at him for some reason? 

“Touya, calm down.” The eldest Todoroki said, and Izuku almost wanted to cower himself at the sheer dominance exuding from the powerful man. “Izuku is becoming family. You will be happy for your sister, not jealous.”

Touya huffed, grumbling under his breath before shoving his seat away from the table. “Just don’t fuckin’ hurt her, got it? She’s my baby sister.” 

“I would never-” But Touya is already storming out of the room, uncaring of Izuku’s assurances.

Natsuo sighs. “Don’t mind him, he just.... doesn’t like change.”

“What is this again?” Picking up the red drink, Izuku swirled it around the glass, trying to change the subject and hopefully smooth over the tension. Most of the tension had dissipated when Touya left, but it never hurt to be proactive. 

“It’s a tea we brew and sweeten ourselves. We grow the plants in the backyard, you’ll see them soon.” Natsuo explained.

“It’s tradition?” Izuku parroted Touya’s earlier words, before taking a quick sip. It was delicious tea.

“Yes, we like to welcome those who are approved to join the family.” Natsuo laughed a little. “Fuyumi’s husband thought we were trying to drug him. It’s really just tea.”

Izuku snorted. It tasted like tea, why would someone think the Todoroki’s were trying to drug them? Sure, the family might be a little odd, but they weren’t malicious... right?

Before he knew it, his cup was empty and Natsuo had slipped out of the room, leaving Izuku alone with the head of the household, Enji.

Where were you? And why had everyone else left the room?

“I’m very particular about who I allow in my house, boy.” Enji started, and Izuku suddenly felt.... uneasy.

“Not everyone thinks the same way as the Todoroki’s. But you seem to be a bright young man. Educated. You aren’t going to be any trouble, are you?”

The last question wasn’t posed as such. It was a statement. 

Still, Izuku shook his head. “No sir, I have no intentions of causing trouble.” Why did this casual dinner feel so serious? there was so much emphasis on being accepted into the family, on being welcomed. Izuku recognized how big of a deal that was but still... it’s not like you were about to marry him. He was planning on that a few years down the road.

“Come with me.” Enji instructed, wiping his mouth with his napkin before his impressive bulk hefted itself out of his chair. Izuku felt tiny next to the patriarch, following the man through the dark, empty house.

He wanted to ask where Enji was taking him. Where you had disappeared to, where the rest of the family had gone. But that would be rude, so Izuku kept his mouth shut.

Outside it was dark, moon shining dimly through the sky, the residual warmth of the summer day still held in the air. Izuku followed Enji through the back door, down along a path, into the plentiful, green backyard.

To a grove of trees, torches flickering from within the grove, small bushes and beautiful flowering plants dotted among the trees. A garden, Izuku realized. Those must be the plants and bushes that produce the tea Natsuo had given him.

Then there you were, in a little clearing among the trees.

Sitting on a dark blanket, knees drawn to your chest and ankles crossed in front of you as you hid your body.

Izuku started - you were naked.

Touya was kneeling beside you, a hand on your shoulder as he talked to you gently, barely sparing Izuku and his father a glance as they strode into the torch-lit clearing, Touya’s attention truly focused on you.

Shouto and Natsuo stood in the light, watching you, watching Izuku.

“What is this?” Izuku sputtered, and upon hearing his voice you looked away from Touya, a smile lighting up your face as you saw your Izuku.

“This is tradition boy.” Enji laid a heavy hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Now strip down, my little girl’s been waiting.”

Izuku’s head swirled.

Touya stood up, shooting the green-haired man a lazy glare before moving to stand by his brothers, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Izuku...” Your sweet little voice called for him, and green eyes snapped to your form on the ground, watched as, with a nod from Enji, you slowly unfurled your body to expose yourself to your lover.

A stab of arousal hit Izuku in his gut, watching your soft-looking skin be revealed. 

Pert breasts, a squishy tummy, glistening folds ready and twitching between your legs. 

You were drenched.

There was so much shiny slick, all over your thighs and dripped onto the blanket, Izuku couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t think straight. It was impossible for you to be that wet on your own, you must have used lube or something to prepa-

It hit him; You and Fuyumi hadn’t gone to prepare dessert.

“You just gonna stand there all night like an idiot? Take your clothes off and fuck her you dwee-”

“Touya.” Enji growled, silencing his son immediately. Then the man turned to  Izuku, easily pushing him forwards towards you. “You’ve been accepted into the family; that’s an invitation you don’t want to refuse.”

With a sigh, you easily laid down onto your back, legs still spread for Izuku to look at you, hands coming up to rest shyly over your breasts.

“Don’t do that, let him see.” Shouto murmured, and immediately your hands dropped in obedience. Shouto hummed in approval, before bi-colored eyes swept up to look at Izuku, urging his friend forward with a tilt of his head down to your form.

With trembling hands, Izuku fumbled with his pants, unzipping them with a bit of difficulty, undoing his belt, working on the buttons of his nice shirt the he had worn to make a good impression when he met your family for the first time.

It took him a moment to undress, a red blush creeping up over his cheeks and down to his chest as he bared his body to the Todoroki’s.

He didn’t think he was small, but he wasn’t big either; average. Izuku was confident in his size, didn’t really know or are how he stacked up against other guys, and the girls he’d been with before hadn’t complained.

Still, he felt embarrassed to be naked in front of other people, to be on display. But there wasn’t another option, was there? (Izuku didn’t know if that was such a bad thing)

Two short strides before dropping to his knees in front of you on the blanket, his throat dry and his palms sweaty. 

“Are you-” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you okay with this?” 

Your head nodded yes, a pleased, yet shy grin on your face. “Of course. I want you.”

The softness of your voice, of your body, Izuku felt dizzy as he shuffled forward, close enough to touch. Still hesitant, worried about the male Todoroki members watching from the sidelines, brain racing to work through the strangeness of the situation, the utter oddity of this... ritual that was currently taking place.

But then you were sitting up, hands circling around his neck, pressing your lips to his with crushing finality.

He was a part of the family now.

It felt good to kiss you, soft lips pressed together, little huffs of breath from your nose as you kept going. Izuku took the freedom of circling his hands around your waist, almost gasping at the plushness of your flesh, melting against you with a groan as your lips kept pressing to his.

“I’m all ready, just-just put it in.” Your breathless little confession tumbled out as soon as you pulled away from your first real kiss with Izuku, a blush high on your cheeks.

But it was Izuku’s turn to blush, sitting between your legs like a fumbling virgin. “I’m not hard yet, but I can, uhm, finger you. Or we can kiss for a little bit mo-”

“You aren’t even hard? Touya’s sneering voice cut through Izuku’s babbling. “Look at my sister. She’s fucking soaking the ground. That’s not hot to you?”

Izuku stuttered, eyes flickering down to where your legs were opened, pretty little cunt twitching. It’s like you were begging to be touched, and Izuku was a sucker for begging.

“No, that’s so hot, oh my god.” He breathed, fingers instinctively reaching to swipe through your wetness, relishing the way you gasped and shuddered as his hand made contact with your body.

“She’s so soft too, got tits like little pillows. You should lick ‘em, she likes that.” Touya continues, and Izuku wants to point out that the reason he’s not completely hard yet isn’t because he’s not insanely turned on by the beautiful creature in front of him, but because he’s feeling weirded out by all her brothers and her dad watching intently from the sidelines.

Yet he does what Touya suggests, leaning forward to put his mouth on your chest, tongue darting out to drag against your skin. 

The eldest Todoroki was right about you being soft.

Izuku can’t stop his other hand from rubbing at your cunt more firmly, feeling your little hips twitch towards him, pressing your chest more firmly into his mouth.

“She’s so pretty.” Natsuo comments, but Izuku is hardly listening when he’s flicking at your clit, nursing at your tits. “She’s gonna feel real good around you Izuku, like a new fleshlight.”

“You better breed her good, boy.” Enji booms, and suddenly you’re scrabbling at Izuku’s arms, pulling his hair, whining “Please, Izuku please.”.

“Okay, shit, let me-”

“He must be really worked up, Izuku hardly ever curses.” Shouto announces, and fuck, he’s right -  but how could he not be worked up?

Izuku is hard, blood rushing so quickly to his cock that he feels lightheaded, taking himself in hand and giving his length a few dry pumps. He’s envisioning how sopping wet you’ll feel against him, staring, drooling over your cunt.

And then he’s lining himself up, kissing you hard, and pushing inside.

“Big, ‘s too big!” You panic, tears popping to your eyes but Izuku is quick to wipe them away, cooing at you and stilling his hips.

“Oh, don’t cry! Shh, I’ll go slow, ‘m sorry, I thought you were ready-”

“Natsu-” You cried, hand scrabbling into the ground above your head, reaching, searching for your brother.

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” The man was immediately on his knees by your face, clasping your hand fervently, leaning down to put a sweet kiss on your nose. “Breathe honey, in and out. It’s okay.”

“Noo I-I.... ‘M scared, he’s-he’s-ah!” A stuttered cry broke from your chest as Izuku shifted slightly, inadvertently pushing deeper.

“No, it's gonna be okay. It's just like when we do it, yeah? He's gonna be nice.” And Natsuo is looking at Izuku, fixing him with such a pointed gaze and Izuku gets the message. He’s going to be nice.

It’s not like he wasn’t planning on it - the green haired man loves you.

But then the breath is sucked out of his chest as he comprehends what Natsuo had just comforted you with, that-that.

That you’ve fucked your brother.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Izuku chants, unable to stop his hips from inching back and forth, humnping into you in infinitesimal movements as arousal punches through his gut. “Sorry, I can’t stop-’h my god that’s-”

He can hear Touya cackle. “Damn, something really got him going.”

You were squeezing your eyes shut, clenching Natsuo’s hand so tight that the skin was whitening. Your brother didn’t seem to mind, more occupied with stroking your hair, eyes fixated on the soft jiggle of your breasts as Izuku humped you like a senseless virgin.

His breathing turned into wheezing, hitching when a presence was felt at his back.

“You can do better than that.” Enji’s hands were pressing against Izuku’s naked rear, making the green haired man flinch forward and away from the touch. But Enji merely pushed, propelling Izuku’s thrusts so that he would really fuck the warm, willing body beneath him.

“Izuk-Izu-Izuku-” You moaned, rocking your body to further spear yourself onto his cock, apparently finding the fast glide pleasurable as opposed to your hesitance earlier.

He leaned down to kiss you, both of you moaning into the kiss, hands wandering as you pushed to meet each other, Izuku’s stomach clenching tighter and tighter as he neared his release.

“She’s never had someone fuck her raw before...” Shouto mused, eyes glued to the scene in front of him, watching his best friend fuck his sister with the help of his family. “I wonder if it feels different.”

But his words were lost in the quick slap of skin meeting skin, Izuku’s grunts, your sweet little noises as you writhed and clutched at Natsuo’s hand, your other hand holding onto Izuku.

And then Izuku was gone, balls clenching and cock twitching inside you, pulsing as he shot his seed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, pulling your hand away from Natsuo to place it against your tummy, pressing right over where Izuku was still grinding against you. “Feels... feels so warm.”

Izuku was panting, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead, desire slowly swirling out of his body as he came. 

What the fuck had he just done?

Enji clapped him once on the back, before rising to his feet. “Welcome to the family, son.”

[em0avacado]

Supposed To Be (Angel Reyes x Reader)

summary : uh first it’s sad but then it’s..... not as sad. there’s no real plot. Angel slowly falls in love with his best friend.

trigger warning : UUUHH FILTH, mentions of cheating, broken hearts, also - all things dirty near the end.

word count : 2.1k

It didn’t rain much in Santo Padre, that was a given, it was basically the desert. So on the rare occurrence that it did, you’d dwell in it. Sitting inside, against an open window, and listened to the water pelting against the glass, washing away the sins of the small town. But this time, you were soaked to the core, water hitting your head, your toes touching every puddle that was in her path, her heels not being very water nor cold resistance. The storm inside your heart mirrored the one that riddled the quiet streets. If it weren’t for your red, puffy eyes, one couldn’t even tell your cheeks were tear stained. Shivers hit you bones as she stepped up the front porch of your best friends house. Someone you loved so dearly, but someone that you’d pushed away, all due to the asshole you found buried deep in your only other friends pussy. It wasn’t the first time, either, for some odd reason, the first time, you’d been inclined to believe his sobbed apologies, you knew people made mistakes, and though this wasn’t one you’d forgive, you found yourself doing so. In your weak state, one you hated showing, despising how it felt to be so vulnerable to anyone, especially someone you hurt. You nearly fell into Angel’ s arms when he opened the door, wordless sobs racking your chest. You told him everything, and he listened, that day he swore that was the last time he’d let some lowlife break your heart, even if it meant he’d have to kill them.

You ended up moving in with Angel, the situation you had been in wasn’t ideal, and it took a while to really get yourself back but when you did? The sight was unbelievably gorgeous, after seeing you so low, seeing you on his step, eyes swollen, throat raw, hair a mess, clothing tattered, it was breath taking seeing you shine again. You allowed yourself to really feel the pain for a while, wanting to get that part over with, so you didn’t find yourself crawling back to someone like your ex again, and it almost felt.. like you’d been reborn in the rain that night. You took it one day at a time, within the first few days you didn’t get out of bed, then you did, starting with small tasks before you went back to bed, then you started going back to work, not intending to be some sort of mooch.

It was one night, a few months after living with him, he came home his usual time, around eight, stopping at the door when he heard the music blasting from the inside. Furrowing his brows when he heard you screech along, you were far from a singer, but he’d pay thousands to continue to hear the pure joy in your voice as the words pitched. He opened the door as quietly as possible, and when you didn’t notice him, he walked further in. He saw you dancing around the kitchen with a wooden spoon in your hand, using it as a microphone, you wore a sports bra, and plaid pj shorts that clung to your hips as you moved them, not at all to the rhythm. “My pride still feels the sting, you were my everything! someday i’ll find a love like yours!!” you sang brightly, more meaning behind the words than you’d like to admit. You jumped when Angel finished the lyric, lifting your spoon as a weapon, ready to strike as he sang “she’ll think i’m superman, not super minivan!” he laughed, then she did, finishing the song, she turned the radio down, and they carried on making dinner and talked about each other’s day.

It was the time that Angel had a really rough day, after being taught for years by ex lovers, and surely society itself that it wasn’t okay for him to express his emotions, you showed him that he’s allowed to be comfortable in himself and you, no matter the day. The storm cloud around his head was dark, his chest felt heavy, his limbs dragged. He’d ignored the “hello” he got from you after he came home, he went straight for his room, keeping it dark. Furrowing your brows, you gave him a few minutes before you went inside. Climbing into the bed, you lifted the sheets and wrapped your arms around his sleeping form, when he woke up, he saw you, sleeping with him in your grasp. He looked at you, watching you in silence, the heavy heart that say in his chest, lightened, you were there for him without asking the slightest of you. You made him feel safe.

It was that one friday, where he was supposed to be on a run, you were supposed to have the house to yourself so you ran around in a shirt that went down to mid thigh, an oversized shirt. his. oversized shirt. The club had gotten home early from a run, they were supposed to be home tomorrow, he could’ve stayed at the clubhouse. The Mayans had planned a party, but Angel felt himself missing you, it’d already been over twenty four hours since he saw you last and he felt the withdrawals. So, naturally, he went home, the house was silent, you were in bed, on top of the covers, bedroom door wide open, like a book, and your hands between your legs. Your head tilted back, eyes shut, he could tell you were close, so close, the small sources of light in the room bounced off your glistening skin. You didn’t withhold your moans, you were supposed to be alone, so of course you’d let yourself feel it.

He watched as you brought yourself closer and closer to that delicious climax that curled your toes, he felt like he should look away, like he should walk away and forget he ever saw that but his mouth watered at the sight, utterly star struck. He was about to walk away, leave you to it, his pants growing tighter, he wanted to give you your privacy but that was over the moment his name escaped your lips, in a soft, angelic moan. Disregarding his kutte quickly, he went up to the corner of your bed and cleared his throat “you called?” he asked, raising a brow at you as you scrambled to find cover, widening your eyes quickly, bringing you down from that high quickly and pulling your legs closed but he stopped you with a finger to your knee. “no, baby. lemme see that pretty pussy.” he nearly growled, a shiver ran down the length of your spine. Inhaling deeply, you slowly spread your legs again, putting your glistening heat on display for him.

You felt the bed shift as he got on, dipping with his weight, he ran his fingertips over your soft skin, a ghosting touch causing a litter of goosebumps to rise on your skin. You watched him closely, the suspense killing you slowly, you clenched your muscles around nothing, your desire for him burning hot as he just looked, awe struck. “This all for me?” he asked, his eyes meeting yours, and when you didn’t respond, looking at him in silence, he reached up, grasping your chin between his forefinger and thumb, adjusting your face roughly. “I asked you a question.” he said, his voice stern, and so velvety smooth.

“yes.” you mustered, caught up in arousal and nerves.

“yes, what, princess?” he asked, his free hand ghosting up your inner thigh, making you want to whine for his touch, shivering once again.

“yes, it’s all for you.” you nearly whimpered but did your best to maintain your composure.

“I want to taste you, may i?” he asked, eyes still on you as you nodded eagerly, and you didn’t need to say it twice.

He started at your knees, peppering soft kisses down the inside of your thighs as he lowered himself. Now laying between your legs, he placed little butterfly kisses everywhere but where you needed him the most. You whined, and squirmed, you wanted him, so, so, bad. His eyes met you again, looking for your reaction as he dove between your legs, starting to devour you the moment he made contact. His tongue trailing between your folds, lapping up your juices, leaving no part of you untouched. He wasn’t a religious man, but he knew right then, that if anything was the forbidden fruit, it was you. He was completely lost in the way you tasted, and your head was swimming, the moment he focused on your clit, you lost all and any control you had. You gripped his hair tightly as your orgasm ran through your body, arching your back, you ground your hips against his face, cumming quickly. But he didn’t stop, selfishly lapping up your climax, he pushed his thumb against your clit and just continued, you began forcing your legs shut around his head, pushing off the bed, you cried out his name and panted until he pulled his face away. Your cum dropping from his beard, he looked proud.

Panting, you thought he was done,maybe he’d fuck you next, but no, he sat up, wrapped his arms around your hips, pulled you closer and dove back in, he fucked you with his tongue for a while, getting you going again before he plunged two fingers in your tight hole and went to town. He curled them when he knew he should, and continued with the assault on your clit until you gripped onto any and everything you could, shoving pillows off the bed, squirming away, pushing at his head. He didn’t stop, nor slow down until you shook, moaning his name, and sprayed your arousal all over him. With a proud smirk, he added a third finger, quickening the pace of his fingers as you came harder than you could ever remember.

Then he gave you a moment to relax, pulling away, he set you down, leaving you a panting mess as you slowly came down. Looking at him after you opened your clenched shut eyes, you saw him undressing himself, and felt yourself get excited all over again, despite the utter exhaustion that washed over you. You sat up in a puddle of your own creation, and reached forward, you wanted to touch him, return the favour, but when he pulled your hand away, and flipped you on all fours, he set a pillow beneath your waist. Stroking himself before he slid in slowly, quickly, you stiffened, feeling him stretch you out, you cried out his name in pleasure. You knew you wouldn’t last long, but based on the way he swore under his breath, you knew he was in the same boat. He gave you a few moments to get used to his size, before he drove himself into you, hard and fast, his rhythms didnt slow or get sloppy, hearing you scream his name is what kept him going, until you came for a third time, he slapped his hand to your clit, circling his finger on it quickly as you shook. Crying of pleasure into the bed, the next thing you felt was him finishing inside you, pull out slowly, only to watch his seed slide out of you in a slow drip.

Collapsing next to you, he painted as you tried to collect yourself. He grabbed onto you carefully, pulling you into his side and wrapping his arms around you. “holy fuck.” you managed to whisper after a few minutes of catching your breath, he looked down at you, and nodded his head in agreement.

He picked her up, climbing out of bed with her he set her on the bathroom counter, running her a bath. “stay here, baby. I’m gonna toss your shit in the wash.” he hummed, kissing her forehead. So she did, she waited, and if she tried to get up her legs wobbled uncontrollably. He came back like he promised, her bed newly dressed, he set her in the tub and got in behind her. He slowly washed her, soaping up her limbs “You know, [Y/N] theres no point in not wanting to cross a line now so.. I fell in love with you, the day that I came home to you dancing in the kitchen, the way your smile glows and the way you light up a room on the darkest days.” he admitted in a soft hum, trailing his fingers over your wet skin.

“I fell in love with you, too. I can’t tell you when, I don’t know when, I just know I woke up one day and you were it.” you spoke the words Angel had always wanted to hear.

[winter-fox-queen]

Kisses Like Wine Part 7

Thank you, thank you for all the kind words, clever tags…I hope this ending is a good one for all of you. <3

Summary: We end where we begin…at a party. Will the Thief get everything he came for?

Warnings: Making out…I don’t know why, the man exudes pure sex, but I couldn’t fit the smut in. Stealing things. The reader is female, blank canvass, no y/n.

I stared at the card.  All that blackmail, clever managing to break into a warehouse, avoiding getting killed…and all I had to show for it was an empty chair and a card.

A King of Spades. What the hell did that even mean?  It’s been a few days, and I had no idea where he was, if he was alright, anything.

But I did have a bit of luck.  I learned that there was to be a ball…and it was tonight. The Heart of the Rhine would be on delicious display, around the neck of a lady who claimed to be one of the “Last Habsburg Princesses” — though people made fun of her for her grandiose claims.  But still.  She was going to the ball, wearing the Heart, and I was going to steal it.

I had a glass fake.  It wasn’t a very good glass fake, but it would do with the time I had.  I also had a beautiful dress, a soft, filmy green that clung where it should and sparkled like a thousand diamonds had been sewn into it.

I then tried to treat myself to dinner, but the card was declined…finally, my father had cut me off.  I laughed…I had bought everything from the skin out for the ball, made sure I was the most beautiful and elegant I could be, and it was the MCDonald’s cheeseburger that got declined.

I told myself I was dressing for the part, not for the man.  I hadn’t picked out the most beautiful lingerie to wear under the dress that I could just in case he would get to see it.

I’d give my soul to know his name, and it scared me, how far I’d gone.

How much I wanted him.

So, there I was.  At the entryway to the Great Ballroom (which I’d cleaned yesterday, and helped set up this morning before collecting my paycheck and canning my maid outfit and wig for good, thank you very much) I paused.  It was going to end the way it began.

I told myself I was ready.

“I thought you’d be in the corner, singing to yourself, angel.”  His voice was like a heavy velvet wrap around my heart.  I was suddenly so very aware.  Aware of the warmth of his body near my back, the feel of his hand as he moved to take mine, bending low and kissing the knuckles, the dark pools of his eyes never leaving mine.

“It’s not a masquerade, this time.”  I was proud that I almost sounded unaffected.  Almost.  He was wearing a jacket of silvery grey, it shimmered a little in the light.  “All masks are off.”

“Are they?”  He presented me with a little pouch.  Smiled down into my eyes, his eyes so deep and dark — but warm, like summer shadows.

“What’s this?”  I took it gently.

“A thank you present, for later…hide it in one of the pockets you had sewn into your gown.”  He caressed my cheek gently.  “Thank you for rescuing me.”

I tried to feel it through the velvet of the pouch as I stowed it…paper?  Around something hard?  His caress distracted me.  “I can’t believe you got caught.”

“Perhaps it is time for me to retire.”  He held out a hand.  “Shall we?  We did not get to dance properly last time, and tonight, we have time to kill.”

I let him lead me out on the floor.  His hand on the bare skin of my back was warm, intimate.  He’s held me close before but this is different…my breath still came faster, heat still pooled in my belly at his touch, feeling his body move against mine, but it felt like home just as much as it felt like lust.  Would he move this smoothly, if we were alone in his bed?  Would be be this gentle, but this firm as he lead me?

“How…”. I shut myself off.  I had been about to say, “How do you fall in love with a Thief?”

“How do I plan to take it?”  He tapped his forehead to mine gently.  “You know better than to ask.”

“Well.  She has four guards around her everywhere she goes.  She’s never alone — someone is always talking to her, always saying something.”

He turned me gently in his arms, and now I was back to his front, as they continued dancing to the music.  His cheek was pressed against mine, and I felt the bristle of his beard.  “They’re all men.”  I said softly.

“Good.  Good.  And see how much she drinks?”

I spin away, his hand gently guides me back and we are face to face again.  “That can’t be it.  That’s too easy.”

“Sometimes it is.”  His nose brushed mine.  “Enough talking.”  He kissed me.  I stopped right in the middle of the dance floor.  The world was spinning, but I was still, tucked up against him, his mouth exploring mine, his hands pulling me close.  When I opened my eyes I realized he’d guided us off to the side, in a shadow created by one of the pillars that lined either side of teh room.  He looked down at me, as if trying to say something, then sighed, closed his eyes and placed his forehead to mine, cupping my face with both of his hands.

“Will you ever tell me your name?”  I whispered.

He pressed his face against my neck, I felt him smile.  “Maybe,” he said softly.  “Or perhaps you should make one for me.”

“I’d rather know yours.”  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he started kissing my throat.  I was pretending to keep my eye on the mark, but failing.  “Stop distracting me…anyway…I am tired of calling you The Thief in my head all the time.”

He looked up.  “Really?  Is that all you call me?”

“Yes.”  I drew it out.

“Liar.”  He said, and kissed me on the nose.

“This is not what I expected.”

“And what did you expect?”

“Well.”  I played with the satin lapel of his jacket.  “I thought you’d drag me off to some quiet corner and have your way with me.”

His hands closed in on my waist, and squeezed.  “Is that you want, my darling?  To hide somewhere and taken so passionately that I need to keep my hand over your mouth to stifle your moans?”

I looked up at him.  “Sounds lovely.”

His mouth twisted into an oddly alluring smirk.  “Well.”  He said softly, leaning closer.  His eyes dashed a quick glance over my shoulder, and his frame sank.

“Is she heading for the restroom?  Already?”

He nodded.

I held up a finger.  “Hold that thought.”  I moved through the crowd, muttering about woman and their humming bird sized bladders.

I went in.  There was an attendant, the black cloth of the uniform shirt a little too snug around her arms and shoulders.  She was built like an amazon, and I thought, That is not coincidence.  I used the restroom, washed up, and was checking my makeup as my mark approached mirror.

My body was between the attendant and the mark.  Could I do it?  Dared I?  “Excuse me…the clasp of your necklace looks undone…”. I reached over to fix it, thankful that she had worn her hair upswept.  The fake was palmed in my hand.

“I’ll see to that,” the attendant said, pushing me aside gently.  “It looks alright.”  Her tone was less gentle this time, and she frowned at me.  The Hapsburgh Princess — the papers said her friends called her Norri — gave me a glare in the mirror, then kept fixing her face.

“Must have been a trick of the light.  I’d hate for you to lose your necklace, it’s really pretty!”  I backed to the door.  “See you around!”

He was leaning against the wall next to the door.  “Attendant?”

“How’d you know?”

He put an arm around my waist.  “You need work on your poker face, my love.  Which is a shame, because our next shot at the jewel is during the poker gamethey have set up for later.”

I let him lead me away.  “What?  You think to get her to add it to the pot?”

He shrugged elegantly.

“Oh, come on.  Tell me.”  He lead me to a balcony, overlooking the city.

“I have a plan.  You know how to play, right?”

“I do…I am adequate, but…”

He handed me a card.  “This is so you can join the game.  The chips have been purchased.  Just collect at the end and cash them in.”

“What happens if they figure out that I’m your accomplice?”

He reached over and tucked some hair behind my ear.  He looked very sad, in the golden light.  “They won’t.”

I cupped his face in my hands.  “Why are you so sad?  What are you going to do?”

He shook himself and gave me a blinding smile.  “Nothing!  Everything will go according to plan.  Now…”. He sat down in one of the wicker chairs on the balcony.  “Come, let me hold you for awhile.”  He unbuttoned his coat with careless flicks of his fingers, then looked up at me, held out a hand.

“Well.  We do have to kill an hour…” I sat down carefully.

“Shhh.  Give me your whole weight, my dove.  None of this awkward half sitting, eh?”  I shifted as his arm closed around me, and he traced my jaw with his knuckles, and kissed me.  His mouth was hotter and sweeter than sin, I shifted to get closer, pressing my chest to his.  I ached to be touched, as those soft lips met the skin of my neck, nipped and licked, burning a path that made me moan softly.

“That’s it, my beautiful girl.”  He whispers in my ear.

“What do I have to do to get you to tell me your name?  Just the first.  Lie.  It’s fine.  Just tell me…”

He’s playing with the strap of my gown, he’d been in the process of pushing it aside.  “I will not lie, not to you, not about that.  But I have promised myself — I will only tell my name to the woman I love.  The woman I want to…”. He cut himself off and looked at me.

“Alright,” I gave him a brave smile, trying to cover the hurt.  “Tell me something else.  Anything.”

He ran his hands up my arms.  “That you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

I let him pull me back, kissed him.  “I love you, but I know nothing about you, and I hate myself for it.”  I whispered in his ear.  His hands stilled and I slipped off his lap, made a point of looking through the glass door.  “Ah.  It looks like they are opening the poker tables.  See you there?”

The angle I was at, I couldn’t see his face.  I kissed the top of his head, enjoying the feel of his soft curls.  “It’s OK.  It really is.”

And I went inside.  I heard him follow, but like Orpheus, I did not dare look back for fear of losing everything.

In this case, everything was my sanity, my will not to start crying, not to berate myself…You know, no-strings screwing could be a ton of fun.  I felt a bit like Anne Boleyn, leading Henry the 8th of a merry dance to get what I wanted…knowing full well he could kill me if he felt like it.

I knew he wouldn’t kill me.  But I knew he’d probably leave me.  Maybe that was why he looked so sad.  Could the world’s greatest thief feel regret?

He across from me at the table.  There was another guest, then Norri, the mossy green diamond glowing.  I felt an unreasonable hatred for it, for her, for the whole place.  For diamonds worth millions but still not as unattainable as one Thief.  Hell, the moon would be easier to get.

Another man, me, the dealer.  I ran my hand over the tray that held my chips, the rough edges cool against my palm.  If I walked out with this tray I could get home.

We started playing.  I was surprised.  I expected silence, quiet desperation…but no.

The table wanted to talk about love.  LOVE.  I threw in some chips.

“I have been in love exactly three times in my life.”  The Thief said idly, accepting new cards and inspecting his hand.  The pile of chips in front of him was respectable, but not gross.  He was winning just a little more than he was losing.  Me?  I was annoyed and out for blood.  “The first one poisoned me.”

“Really?” Norri was fascinated.  So, of course, was I.  “Why?”

He nodded and threw some chips in.  “Difference in opinion about how to run the family business.”

“The second?”  I asked, despite myself.

His eyes flickered down to his cards.  “I made her sad.  She could not bear me, the way I am.”  He gave me the sweetest of smiles.  “It happens.”

“I’m calling.”  Norrie says.  “And you must tell me the third?”

We paused to show our cards, or not.  I had a full house, and won, scooping my chips in.

“She is the one I love most.”  The dealer was dealing cards again.  “I did not know how much I loved her, when I first met her I saw a beautiful woman, inside and out, underappreciated, stuck in a cage when she would be so much more.  I thought, I could give her a way out.”  He grinned.  “Vanity is one of my many, many vices.”

Everyone laughed.  Except me.  He reached over and took the cards from the dealer, despite the man’s protests.

“I wish I could start over,” he says, shuffling the cards.  He looked into my eyes.  “But it is almost midnight, Cinderella, and the fairy tale is over.”  I realized the backs of the cards were different…when had he changed them?  “I am so sorry,” he said, and raised his hands, and rained the cards over us.  The power went out, and the cards, as they flew into the air hissed and spat, flaring with fire for a second before becoming sparks and ash.  Norrie screamed next to me.  I felt a touch as light as feathers for the briefest of seconds.  A kiss on my temple.

And then the lights came up again, and the greatest thief was gone again.

I was searched…we all were.  The fake necklace was gone, but this time it was me who hid it in a small panel I’d found while cleaning.  The going away present he’d left me, the little pouch, was well hidden in my dress, so I was snot surprised that they did not find it. They also did not find the playing card.  I found it later, where the first card was.

The Queen of Hearts.  I never knew that looking at a playing card could feel like a kiss and a slap at the same time.

I traded in my chips.  I took my money.  I walked out the door, and thought, I am done with all of this.

There were no more diamonds.  No more clues to follow.  A black car was waiting outside.  I quickened my steps, wondering, hoping.  The door opened, and all hopes were dashed.  My brother came up to me, looking…relieved.

“Are you alright?”

“I am.  I failed.  So maybe not for long,” I joked.

“It’s time for you to come home.”  He looked so serious.  “No one’s mad…we just miss you, and this was good…you had fun, we tried to get the diamond back, but…enough is enough.”

“I hate to give up now…”

“It’s OK.  Just come back.”  He gave me a tentative smile.  “Where else are you going to go?  It’s your home.”

“I have options.”  I said.  I hugged him…it was as stiff and welcoming as I expected it to be, so it was short.  “I think…I think I’ll take a rain check.”

“Dad’s frozen your cards…”

“I know!”  I said cheerfully.

“What are you going to do?  I don’t understand…I…”

This time, I petted him, and my “I know” was far more serious.  I could never make him understand.  He was as much a prisoner as I was, but no one saw enough in him to show him a way out.  I started walking.

“Did he seduce you?  Is that what this is?”

“Sadly, no.”  I said over my shoulder.

As I walked, I took the pouch out.  Under a street lamp I looked at it.  A signet ring.  Heavy.  Old gold.  I held it up to the light, and etched in the blood red ruby was a little devil’s head.

I knew where he was.

And I knew his name.  I’d seen it — and the little sigil from the ring — enough times, researching the Midas’s Rainbow.

There is, if you know where to find it, a castle.  It overlooks a formidable bay that had been the bane of many a ship, in the old days.

It looks abandoned.  The land for a good distance around it is private, and it is very hard to get to.  People at the closest town will tell you it is haunted by a man who sold his soul to the devil, and that he has lived there for hundreds of years.  That his castle has a vault full of cursed treasure.

There are people there who will tell you the story with an almost mocking twist.  And you — and I — both know that these are the people who have been paid, and paid well.  To spread the legend.  To bring in supplies.  To try and dissuade lone women from walking the long, rutted path into the woods, to climb past rocks to the lonely castle over the ocean.  To approach it, the red painted drawbridge bound in black iron.

There’s a door, set in the drawbridge.  The knocker looks like the heraldic devil’s head in the ring I wear on a chain around my neck.  No one answers my knock.

It does look abandoned.  Quiet.  But I hear a song, sung softly, and I walk around until I am in a garden.

I call his name, and when he turns, he laughs, a sound of relief as much as pleasure.

I drop my bag, my purse, and throw my arms around him.  He crushes me to him, and I can barely whisper his name, over and over, and that I love him, I love him.

“Welcome to your home, my love,” he says, in a pause between kisses, “Thank you for coming to find me.”

The End.

(Unless the actual commercial gives me thots)

With extra, most loving thanks to the people who have been following this and loving it:

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[noladyme]

The Wife - Chapter 5

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons. First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness. Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

TW: angst, violence, blood, smut (6214 words)

The next week, Rosalind spent her days entertaining guests, or visiting; doing embroidery, and darning socks; turning Chamber House into something that resembled a home; and taking promenades with her husband. She spent her nights – and on occasion, mornings – letting that same husband take her any which way he wanted, and loving every moment of it.

On one such occasion, she’d woken to find him, wearing only his shirt; and bent over a mess of documents, looking frustrated, and tired. Climbing out of the small bed, she quietly walked over to him, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I am working", he chided. “Did you sleep at all?”, she asked. “Enough. When you didn’t snore", he replied. “If you don’t want me sleeping next to you, then ask me to go to my own bed", Rosalind said, trying not to sound hurt. “No. You keep me warm", James said, took her hand from his shoulder, and pulled her down to sit on his lap. He caught her lips in a kiss, and pulled her as close as possible; making her feel his beginning hardness through the fabric of his shirt and her nightgown.

“I thought you had work to do", she breathed, as his lips travelled down her neck, and his hand dug into her bottom. “You distracted me”, he breathed against her collarbone. “You can’t be very good at your work, if you let yourself be so easily distracted”, Rosalind laughed. James pulled his head back, and raised his brows at her. “You believe you would be able to do a better job?”. He got on his feet, and made her sit on his chair; handing her a book of accounts. “Here. I’ve received a shipment of wine from France, and need to calculate the costs…”. “You mean to tell me your shipping company is an actual shipping company?”, she scoffed. “Keeping up appearances, wife”, James said. “Now, will you please help me calculate how much money I can make from sending this same shipment to Portugal?”. Rosalind blushed in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t know where to begin…”, she said. “Try”, James said, and kneeled in front of her. “Meanwhile, I will do my best to distract you”.

He lifted the hem of her nightgown, and dove his head under it; running his calloused and yet so very soft hands up her thighs. “James!”, Rosalind exclaimed. “How much did the shipment cost me?”, he said, brushing his lips against her inner thigh. His beard tickled deliciously against her skin. “It’s in the ledger”. “250£”, she said, gazing down into the book. “Hmm”, James muttered, his warm breath reaching her core. “And how much did I pay the captain of the ship to bring it?”. “75£… Oh, my…”. She felt a soft kiss against her mound. James flicked his tongue against her nub, and she jolted in her seat. He put his hands on her hips, and moved her bottom forwards on the chair. “Now, I have two captains offering me to take the shipment to Portugal”. His warm breath against her folds as he spoke, made her gasp. “One has good connections with a wine trader in Lisbon, but will charge me 130£ for his services”. He flicked his tongue again, and Rosalind threw her head back. “The other will charge me far less, but his connections aren’t as good. Which one should I choose?”. She received a torturously slow lick between her lower lips, all the way from her entrance to her nub. “I don’t… fuck…”.

James nibbled at one of her labia. “See, it is not so easy, when someone is distracting you”, he said, and pulled back from under her nightgown, looking up at her with chiding eyes. Rosalind let out a frustrated whimper. “Please…”. “Please, what? What do you want?”, James demanded. “You have disrupted my work; you’ve got me on my knees for you… What do you want?”. It was always the same. James wanted Rosalind to tell him what she wanted him to do to her, and she was learning to ask for it, but still felt embarrassed every time she did. “Speak, woman!”, James growled with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Please… use your mouth on me. Kiss me, and lick me, and… Oh!”.

James had dived under her gown again, and was devouring her with ferocity. His tongue stroked her labia, while he sucked on her pebble. Lifting one of her knees to rest over his shoulder, James pulled her further forwards on the chair; allowing him to lap into her entrance, and use his finger to stroke her nub. He sounded like he was enjoying a delicious meal, and his hold on her bottom was so hard, that she wouldn’t be able to get free, even if she wanted to. It didn’t take James long to have his wife crying out in pleasure, as she shook violently from her orgasm.

With his hands around her waist, James pulled Rosalind down to straddle him, and instantly entered her. Rosalind threw her arms around his shoulders, and grinded hard against him, to stretch out her delight. James pulled at her nightgown, to get it over her head, so he could suckle at her nipple. Soon, her thighs were beginning to burn from lifting herself up and down on him, and James lifted her off him; pushing her down to lay with her chest against the floor. He lifted her bottom into the air, and entered her again; thrusting with wild abandon. James hips slamming against her, were like spanks against her bottom, and he dug his fingers into her hips. He held one hand between her shoulders, and Rosalind clawed at the floor; needing to hold on to something – anything. In sheer desperation, she ended up grabbing on to the leg of the chair, which then skirted back and forth across the floor with each of James thrusts.

Sliding his hand under her belly, James stroked circles against her nub, and once again the coil in her belly tensed to the point of snapping. He used his free hand to lift her, so she was resting on her elbows, and when she cried out in extasy, he leaned down, and bit into her neck; like an animal marking his mate. The pain was welcome, only adding to and prolonging the jolts of pleasure going through Rosalind’s body.

With a loud growl, James pulled out of her, and climaxed himself; spilling himself on her back. She laid splayed out on the floor under him, panting for breath. “James…", she whispered. “I love you", James replied.

Rosalind felt a shiver go through her body, and her heart fluttered. She turned around to meet his eyes. James looked at her warmly, before suddenly, his face dropped. “Go get dressed. I must finish this", he said, and gestured towards his desk. His tone was brusque, and his expression dark. “But…”. “Not now. Do as I say”. He took a handkerchief, and quickly wiped her off, before getting on his feet, and back in his seat.

Rosalind put her nightgown back on, and left the attic quietly; confused but strangely warm at heart.

---

James spent the rest of the day searching every inch of the house for the Nootka Treat; even the places he’d already searched twice. He was checking loose floorboards, knocking on walls; and at one point, Rosalind found him covered in soot, from having searched the chimney. She tried not to let herself hope he would change his mind, and stay in England – or at least ask her to come with him to America – but in her heart, she could not help but wish for a future with her husband.

In the evening, James seemed more preoccupied than usual during dinner. After having tried to start any kind of conversation with him, Rosalind finally gave up, and sighed deeply. “I’ve reconsidered the curtains”, she said. “Perhaps we should forego them all together. I could walk around naked, and let who ever wanted to, stand in the yard, and watch me”. “Hmm”, James replied, for the seventh time. Rosalind had kept count. “Atticus could sell tickets, and Cholmondeley could sell his gas”, she continued. “I’m thinking two shilling a head”. “Make it three; and don’t let anyone tell you you’re worth less than that”, her husband grunted. Rosalind cocked a brow at him. “So, you are listening”, she muttered. “Hmm”, James replied. “You are very amusing…”.

Rosalind pushed away her plate. “James, what’s wrong? I know you’re not a conversationalist, but this is ridiculous”. James ran a hand down his face, and grunted frustratedly. “I’ve searched every fucking inch of this house, and I still haven’t found that treaty”. She took a sip of her wine, and looked down; a knot forming in her stomach. “Is it really that urgent?”, she asked.

“I will be meeting with Thoyt in the morning, to make up a will. In the event of my death, Nootka Sound will go to the Americans; making it unviable for the Company or the crown to kill me”. “But what about the Americans, then?”. “They’ve tried and failed. They even tried to take you, and I stopped them. As it is, our negotiations are going well; and they have more to win from letting me keep it”, James grunted. “But to make the will legal, I must be able to prove that it is mine”. “Will you be unable to leave if you cannot find it?”, Rosalind muttered. James met her eyes; his own hard. “Do you know where it is?”, he asked brusquely. “No! I swear, I don’t… But you can’t blame me for not wanting you to find it; if it will keep you here with me”. “Rosalind…”, James said, and shook his head softly.

She got up from her chair abruptly, and walked over to the fireplace. “Why can’t I go with you to America?”, she said quietly. James got up himself and walked over to sit on the sofa. “You don’t belong there”, he said, slouching down in his seat. The dog put its head on his knee, and he scratched it behind its ears. “You mean, I don’t belong with you”, Rosalind said. “Hmm…”, he nodded. “I’ve told you so, many times. You will be better off without me”. “But I won’t be happy”. She turned around, and a lone tear escaped her eye.

In a surprisingly gentle gesture, James took her hand and pulled her to him, making her sit on his lap. “I am here now”, he muttered. “For however long that is. Once you have your treaty and your ship, you will be lost to me”. James wiped her tear away, and pressed his lips to hers. “I am here now”, he repeated. He tutted at her small sobs. “No more of that. I’ve told you; don’t make me a weakness. You are better than that”.

They sat for a long time in silence, while James stroked her back. “Will you do one thing for me?”, Rosalind whispered. “Hmm?”, James responded. “Will you at least, for one night, share the bed with me, that we were meant to sleep in together, on our wedding night?”. Her voice was timid, as she looked at him through her lashes. James nodded curtly, and patted her thigh for her to stand. He took her hand, and led her up the stairs, to her bedroom. The house was quiet again, the only sound coming from their feet against the floor, and James soft hums.

James walked over to the chest which held Rosalind’s wedding gown, and pulled it out. “Put it on”, he said, and held it out to her. “James, no… Don’t make this…”, Rosalind said. “I never got to take it of you. I would like to do that”. Rosalind felt a smile form on her lips. “You want me to put it on, so that you can take it off me…?”. “Yes”, James replied matter-of-factly. “Alright”, she whispered, and took the dress from him. James nodded with a satisfied smile. “And the veil. There was a veil, was there not?”. Rosalind took off the dress she was wearing. “In the bottom of the chest”, she said.

James crouched in front of the chest. She was slipping the wedding gown over her head, and trying to ignore the stain on it, when she heard a click. “What is this?”, James said. Rosalind turned around, and walked over to join him. James had pulled at a clasp on the side of the chest, and the intricately carved wooden side fell off, revealing a hidden compartment. A rolled-up piece of parchment was propped up in there. “Oh, god…”, Rosalind said. Her heart dropped.

James sat down with his legs under him, and pulled off the string holding the parchment together. “Is that…?”, Rosalind croaked. “Yes”, James said. His voice sounded far away, as he stared down at the document. “This is the Nootka Treaty. The piece of paper documenting how my father bought the land and my mother from the Nootka Tribe”. “I didn’t know, James, I swear!”. He shook his head. “No, I know. You would have never let me near the chest, if you knew”. Rosalind clenched her hands. “I wouldn’t keep it secret from you. I could never do that”, she breathed. “Hmm”. He got on his feet, and walked towards the door. “Rosalind, I must see to this. I will see you in the morning”.

He closed the door behind him, and once again left his wife in her wedding dress; knowing she would not be sharing their marriage bed with him that night – if ever.

---

James stayed in the attic all night, and left the house early the next morning. Brace let Rosalind know that he had a meeting with Thoyt, and after that, some of his more secret connections. He looked quite solemn when he spoke; and Rosalind decided not to pry.

In the evening, after she had dined alone, James returned home looking like a thundercloud. “You’re late for dinner”, she muttered chidingly at him; from where she sat in front of the fireplace, with a book in her hands, and the dog resting its head on her feet. “Why did you not tell me of the Company man that has been following you?”, James demanded. His voice was ragged, and his eyes on fire. Rosalind frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”. “The man who came for you, at Cholmondeley’s exhibition”. “He didn’t do anything to me. And I’ve only seen him twice”, Rosalind said. “Oh, it’s twice; now?”, James retorted. “How do you expect me to keep you safe, if you do not tell me of such things?”. “I didn’t know…”, Rosalind exclaimed. James stormed out of the room, and up the stairs. “James!”.

She ran after him, into her bedroom, where he was opening drawers and pulling out her belongings. “What are you doing?”, she said. “Pack up. I have a ship waiting for you at the port”, James grunted. She sprang over and grabbed his arm, as he pulled a travelling trunk from under the bed. “Stop, James. Why are you doing this?”. James grabbed her wrist, and held her close to him. “You are leaving London tonight”. “I will do no such thing!”, Rosalind sneered. “I cannot have you here, if you will not do as you’re told”, James growled. “Hmm. So, now you will pack your bags, and leave”.

He grabbed her nightgown from underneath the covers of the bed, and threw it into the open trunk. “Stop it!”, Rosalind cried out, and pushed James away from the trunk. “I have done everything you’ve told me to do, without question. You never said to tell you of every person I might come across. I didn’t know…”. Her heart was in her throat, and her hands were shaking. “I will not go. No… You can’t…”. Tears began streaming from her eyes. “I will carry you onto the ship, if I have to”, James said. “You will have to!”, Rosalind hissed through her tears. “Why are you doing this?”. “Because having you here comes in the way of my business”. She shook her head violently. “No… It’s because I’ve become a weakness to you”. “You don’t know what you’re talking about”, James said, and stepped back; creating further distance between them. His eyes were cold.

“You finally got your hands on that treaty, and now you’ve realized what you’re giving up… You’re looking for an excuse to part ways with me now, so it won’t hurt as much when you leave yourself”. Rosalind walked towards him. “I could come with you to America. There is no reason for me not to”. “No, you can’t”, he replied. “I don’t want you there”. “You love me, James. You said it yourself”, she said. “I don’t love”, he breathed, his eyes cold. “You love me!”, she insisted. “And that frightens you, because you think that means you have to choose between me and that wretched place, that you cling on to, out of some sick obligation you’ve inherited from your father… You don’t think you deserve happiness, and I pity you for it… James, you love me, and I love you”. James pounced on her; grabbed either side of her head, and stared menacingly into her eyes. “I have no use for your pity, and I have no use for your love!”, he hissed. “Pack your bags or don’t. If you’re staying, be it on your own head. You are not coming with me, because I have no more use for you. You and I are finished”. He spun around, and left the room; slamming the door behind him.

Rosalind felt as if all life left her body, and slumped over on the floor; her heart in a thousand pieces.

---

She did not get out of bed in the morning. Pearl came in with a tray of toast and eggs, but she could not eat any of it; merely stared up into the ceiling. When Pearl went to open the curtains, Rosalind asked her to leave them closed, only wanting darkness. At lunchtime, when the maid returned to fetch the uneaten food, and traded it for soup, she was still laying there; only blinking when her eyes teared up from dryness. She did not cry. She had no use for tears, after all.

Dinner went the same way; though it was Brace that came, instead of Pearl. “I made you bacon, ma’am; just the way you like it”, he said. “I know it’s not dinner-food, and that James doesn’t…”. “Take it away. I am not hungry”, she replied. “Rosalind…”, Brace tried, foregoing decorum. “You have to…”. “Take it away”. Brace sighed. “Should I at least relight the fire for you? It is bloody cold in here”. “There is no warmth in the Delaney house”, Rosalind whispered. The butler left the room quietly.

The next day was the same. She could tell from whispers outside her door, that Brace and Pearl were discussing how to best get through to her; how to help her. She had no use for their help. The maid came in to the dark room with a beautiful cake a few hours later. “We made you this, especially. Thought it might cheer you up…”, she smiled. Rosalind turned her back to her. “Give it to Winter”, she whispered. Pearl sighed. “Please, ma’am. You’ll make yourself sick like this”. “Hmm”, Rosalind replied. “A dead woman cannot get sick”. She heard the door close quietly, as Pearl left the room.

She woke from a dreamless sleep in the middle of the night, at the sound of yelling and arguing. She couldn’t make out all the words. “… up there, and you think getting drunk will solve…”, she heard Brace yell. James growled something in response. “… your wife! She won’t eat, just lays… you will just leave?”. Another series of growls and grunts. “… deserves better!”. “Yes she does!”, James roared. A door slammed, and glass shattered. She fell back asleep soon after; her body exhausted from lack of food or drink.

On the third day, she woke around noon. There was a tray of food on the bedside table, and her stomach was screaming for sustenance in such a manner, that she could no longer ignore it. She had use for food. Ingesting the toast and boiled egg, rather than eating it; she then got dressed, and did her hair up in a scarf. Though it had only been a few days, she did not recognize the woman in the mirror. Her cheeks were gaunt, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

She had use for air, so she put on a jacket and her boots, and without telling anyone, she left the house quietly, and began walking down the shoreline. Once the ground beneath her became too soft to walk on, without getting stuck, she made her way up onto the docks. The sounds of laughing made her look around the corner of a building, where she found Winter cutting up her cake in smaller pieces; sharing them equally between the younger children surrounding her. She felt a strange tug at the corner of her lip, and found that a smile had ghosted her face. Winter looked up at her, and waved. Rosalind waved back, and walked on. It was good that someone found use for the cake, when she could not.

Taking a moment to rest, Rosalind looked around the docks, and at the ships there. She found herself imagining where the ships might be heading once loaded. A sloop named La Charlotta she thought would go to Spain to trade for oranges. Another, named The Orlando, she saw as it rode the waves of the Baltic, to trade tea for whale oil. She saw a brig named Felice Adventurero, and was just about to mentally ship it towards Russia, when suddenly she knew exactly where it was going.

The Felice Adventurero was going to America; taking her husband with it. James was signing a piece of paper a boatswain was handing him, and overseeing the loading of crates onto the ship.

Rosalind froze in place, simply unable to move. All sounds around her disappeared, there were only whispers, as in her dreams – the ones where James had visited her. She saw him raise his head, and look around him; and then their eyes met. His expression was one mixed between a child being caught doing something wrong, and a man determined not to let anything faze him. For a long moment, they held each other’s gaze, then Rosalind looked at the ship again, nodded, and turned around; walking away. James had his ship, and was lost to her, forever. She walked back to Chamber House, and went into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Hours later, while Rosalind was seated in front of the unlit fireplace in her room, there was a soft knock on the door; and James entered. “You have your ship”, she said quietly. “Yes. I am negotiating safe passage, and as soon as I have it, I will sail to America”. “Hmm”, Rosalind replied. He stood looking at her for a moment, as if anticipating her to say something else. “I have made up the papers for you to have this house. Brace will stay behind, and is willing to stay on as butler”. She shook her head. “No thank you. Leave the house and everything in it to him”, she said. “I have no use for it. There are too many ghosts here”.

James grunted in confusion. “How will you make your way? You have no income”. “Perhaps I can go to Helga. Or perhaps I will live in a shack on the harbor, and live of scraps. It does not matter”. She pulled out her combs, and let her hair fall down her shoulders. “That is not who you are, Rosalind. That is not the woman I married”, James breathed. She finally turned around, and met his eyes. “The woman you married is gone. You are a widower…”.

His eyes widened. It was as if he was looking at a stranger, and he shook his head; looking almost afraid. “You should leave. This room is no place for you”, Rosalind said. James backed out of the room, unable to break eye contact with the woman who had been his wife. Rosalind turned back towards the fireplace, and let out a deep breath.

---

The whispers where like songs; a multitude of them. They scared her and soothed her, all at the same time. She stood waist-deep in water, and in her reflection, she saw that her face was covered in white paint, and her eyes black.

“Rose…”. Someone was calling to her from the shore. She turned around and saw him there; James. His eyes were pained. “Is this my dream, or yours?”, she asked in a whisper. “Rose…”, he said. “Come to me”. He reached out a hand, goading her closer. “No… This is my place now. You can leave it behind. You are free”. James shook his head fervently, and took a step out into the water. “This was not made for you. You don’t belong here”. “But you gave it to me”, Rosalind smiled.

James waded into the water, and was soon standing in front of her. He put his hands on either side of her face. “I am not leaving you in here. Please, my love…”. There were tears in his eyes. Rosalind knew she had to make him leave. She lifted her hand, and with a soothing smile, she put them on his chest, and he was jolted away from her; disappearing.

Spreading her arms out, Rosalind leaned backwards, and let herself fall into the water; and sink down into the darkness.

---

It was just before dawn when she woke. Unable to truly understand what she’d just dreamt, Rosalind crawled out of bed, and walked over to the washbasin to splash some water in her face. White paint came off when she dried herself with a towel. Getting dressed, she decided to take another walk, wanting to avoid facing any of the inhabitants of the house. The park seemed the obvious place to go, though she did fear having to face any acquaintances; so, she kept to the smaller paths.

As she was gazing over a small pond, she suddenly felt a hand on her arm. She spun around, and stood face to face with Thorne Geary. “I am sorry, Mrs. Delaney. I did not mean to startle you”, he said. “Mr. Geary… I have nothing to say to you”, Rosalind said. Her heart was in her throat, as her former assailant looked down at her with saddened eyes. “I know, I do… I want to apologize”, he said. “What happened… I was drunk, and a terrible fool. I cannot tell you how dreadfully embarrassed I am. You were right to strike me, I deserved nothing less, and far more”. Rosalind nodded, not knowing how to reply.

After a moment of them standing there, Geary, cleared his throat. “I should very much like to extend my apologies to your husband as well, but he was not to be found at home, or at his office”. He looked around. “Is he here with you?”. “I don’t know where he is”, Rosalind said quietly. Geary looked at her worriedly. “Are you quite alright, Mrs. Delaney? You look out of sorts”. “I’m just… It’s nothing”. He extended his arm to her. “Please, come sit on a bench. You look like you need rest”.

Without taking his arm, Rosalind followed the man to a nearby bench below a tree, and sat down next to him. “Are you sure you don’t know where Mr. Delaney is? Perhaps I could fetch him for you”, Geary said. “No, I don’t know. He is tending to business elsewhere”, Rosalind said, with an edge to her voice. “So you are all alone…”. Geary’s voice had changed, and when she looked at him, she recognized the beast who had attacked her at Musgrove’s party. Before she had a chance to cry out, something hit her over the head, and everything went black.

---

When she came too, she was in a dark room. She was wearing just her chemise and stay, an her feet were bare; and she was laying on a dirty mattress. There was a barred window at the top of one wall, and what looked like a heavy door in another. In the middle of the room was a table, and two chairs, facing each other. She could hear screams and nonsensical moans from outside the door. Fear instantly took her over, but she forced herself to focus. She got on her feet, and rubbed her arms for warmth. Who had taken her, she did not know; but whoever it was, she had done nothing wrong, and could not give them anything. They were doing this to get to James.

The door opened, and an older man with a smug expression entered the room, followed by two other men. One with the face of a concerned rat, and the other plump and looking like everything around him smelled foul. Lastly, a man in a dirty jacket and with beady eyes, slipped in behind them, and went to stand by the door. “Mrs. Delaney! I am glad we’ve finally been able to catch up to you”, the first man said. “We did have one of our agents wanting to speak with you at a chemistry exhibition you were at recently, but you must have been in a rush, because you slipped past him”. He reached out his hand. “I am sir Stuart Strange”. Bile rose in Rosalind’s throat, but she forced herself to seem indifferent.

“I should like my dress back”, she said as calmly as she could. “I’m afraid it’s been burnt; to avoid lice and vermin infestations”, Strange said matter-of-factly. “It’s procedure here at Bedlam”. “I’m in Bedlam?”, Rosalind croaked. “Yes, madam; you are. And for the long haul… Unless you cooperate”. “You don’t have the power to hold me here…”. “Money trumps power. Which happens to be one of the reasons the king hates the Company”. “Oh… Could I at least have a blanket…? For propriety and modesty”, she said. Strange laughed. “My dear, you are married to the devil Delaney. You are the furthest thing from proper”. He gestured at one of the chairs. “Have a seat”.

Shaking – partly from cold, partly from fear – Rosalind walked over to the chair, and sat down. Strange’s two minions flanked her. The man himself took the chair opposite her. “I will get right to the point. Your husband owns a piece of land on the west coast of America…”. “I am aware”, Rosalind said. Strange gave her strained smile at her interruption. “Yes… Well, as the situation would have it; this particular piece of land is of no real value, unless you know how to use it”. “As a naval trade station”. “Exactly! My, you are a clever one…”, Strange said overbearingly. “Before your husband returned from the dead, you were to inherit this land, and we had planned to buy it from you. Now, that is not an option”. “Unless you try to kill him again”. Rosalind moved a lock of hair out of her face, and kept her expression as calm as possible. “Which, as I understand is not an option, because the land will go to the Americans”. “Indeed…”, Strange said.

He gestured to the rat-like man, who placed two documents on the table. “What I have here is your future… Well, a selection of futures; and you will be free to have any one of them. It will be your choice in the end. Mr. Wilton, if you’d care to explain”. The rat-man opened one of the documents. “By law, as James Delaney’s wife, you have the power to claim him insane. All you will need, is for a doctor to sign this document; and Delaney will then be taken in to custody, and put here in Bedlam Asylum. That is what Dr. Kilroy is here for”. He gestured towards the beady eyed man at the door. “As his wife, you will then have power of attorney to handle his assets. You will then sell Nootka Sound to the honorable East India Trading Company, on behalf of your husband – for which you will be fairly paid – and you can live out your life in comfort”.

The man’s words made Rosalind shudder. “I can’t! That would be… no!”, she exclaimed. “We thought you might say that”, Strange smiled. “Mr. Pettifer?”. The plump man opened the second document. “This is a document stating your insanity”. “What?”, Rosalind gasped. “What is your evidence?”. “A Mr. Thorne Geary found you rambling about your husband, saying he was dead, when it is very clear he is alive. You were throwing yourself at him, tearing at your clothes; and wanting to let him have… carnal knowledge of you, at a recent event”. “That is a lie! He attacked me!”, she cried out. “My dear Mrs. Delaney. It is your word against his, and he is a respected gentleman; whereas you… Well, you married a murderer and a slave-trader… And, you’re a woman”. Pettifer gave her a haughty smile.

Strange leaned back in his seat. “It is very simple, Mrs. Delaney. Sign these papers, declaring your suspicion of your husband’s insanity; or I will have the doctor here sign these, declaring you insane. You will be in here Bedlam for the rest of your life”. Panic was beginning to take over, and Rosalind felt tears form in her eyes. Strange sighed deeply. “Doctor, why don’t you tell Mrs. Delaney what the procedure is for new patients here at Bedlam”. The doctor stepped forward, and pulled out a pair of scissors from his Pocket, “First, we cut of your hair, to avoid creepy crawlies. We have enough of those in the mattresses here”, he said, smiling at her with yellow teeth. “Then, it’s daily ice-baths for the first month, to expel the evil spirits from you. You will of course be naked during these baths, and I’m afraid we have no women employed here; so, you will have men taking care of said baths. They are not all trained physicians as myself, but they do their best; though they can get a bit handsy…”. He let out a raspy laugh.

Rosalind swallowed thickly, as a pen and a bottle of ink was laid in front of her. “I want to see my husband”, she whispered. “He is nowhere to be found”, Strange said. “Have you even tried looking for him?”. “No. And we won’t”. He let out an exasperated grunt. “Right. Dr. Kilroy?”.

The doctor stepped forwards, and before she knew it, Pettifer and Wilton had each grabbed one of her wrists; while Kilroy pulled the combs from her hair, and grabbed it in his fist; pressing her chest towards the table. Rosalind cried out in pain and fear, and her entire body shivered. “Please, stop…”. Strange forced the pen into the hand Wilton was holding down. “Sign the fucking document!”, he hissed. She heard the snipping of the scissors by her ear, and tears began spilling from her eyes, making the table wet against her cheek; which was pressed against it. “I want to speak with my husband. I want James!”, Rosalind whimpered. Someone bored an elbow down between her shoulder blades. “I’m not signing anything, until you let me speak to him. If you were going to admit me here, you would have done it already”.

Strange stepped back, exclaiming a frustrated growl. “Let her stew a bit. Some time in the collar should clear her mind”. Kilroy grabbed her left hand, and looked down at her ring. “We wouldn’t want this getting lost, would we?”, he said. Rosalind clenched her fist to avoid him taking it; but Kilroy pried it open, and managed to take the only thing she had on her, that still mattered. Without it, she felt truly naked. The doctor stepped back, and holding on to each of her arms, Pettifer and Wilton led her out of the room, and into a long dark hallway. Here, they were met by a large, dirty man; who grabbed her by the neck, and led her away. Dr. Kilroy followed close behind.

“She’s a pretty one, doctor”, the man holding on to her said. He slipped a fat arm around her waist, and held her against him. “You may have your fun with her soon enough”, Kilroy replied. “For now, it’s a little time in the collar”. “Too bad. She won’t be as clean after that”. Both men laughed.

Rosalind was led to a room about the size of a closet. A chain was attached to the wall, and at the end of was a collar of metal. She was forced into the room, and the large man fastened the collar around her neck.

The door was closed, and she was in complete darkness.

---

[baepsaesbae]

Before (Heal Me, Kill Me Prequel)

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x OC named Maggie (thanks @kimtaehyunq)

Genre— SMUT, Angst, Vampire!Tae au, Victorian era au

Warnings— Explicit unprotected sex (but like pretty vanilla and loving), some violence and death

Word Count— 4.8k

Summary— Taehyung was a vampire with nothing but time and boredom on his hands. He’s going on his monthly feeding adventures when he comes across a rather peculiar prey. 

A/N— This was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away and made a full prequel oops. The Heal Me, Kill Me series will be posting starting in October! The pairing will be Kim Taehyung x reader so it’ll be the usual y/n stuff. Thanks for reading, feedback is always welcome~

It was a dark and stormy night. Ok, well it wasn’t stormy, but at least it was nighttime. The year was 1863. Taehyung made his way down to the sketchy part of town, eager for a meal. Opium was all the rage nowadays, but Taehyung despised it. It tainted people, making them even more unbearable than he thought was possible. He drew the line past alcoholics, though he still wasn’t fond of them. However, people were even easier to persuade with absinthe coursing through their veins. 

“Hey handsome, looking for some fun?” a woman approached him from the shadows, her knockers practically spilling out of her corset. She reeked of all sorts of carcinogenic substances. 

“Away with ye, painted Jezebel,” Taehyung shooed her away, and she instantly stood up straight and walked in the opposite direction with a clouded look in her eyes. 

It was hard to come by a decent meal these days. Unfortunately, sticking to the slums was his best option. No one cared if a poor commoner went missing. At least he only had to partake in such grizzly actions about once a month. Any longer than that and he’d be in big trouble (or more accurately, random people who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time would be in big trouble).

Something caught Taehyung’s attention. He lifted his chin and took a deep inhale of a sweet aroma that wafted through the air. It was the scent of something he’d never dream of finding in the slums; an untainted individual. Untainted in the sense of a perfectly pure body, not once given into sinful indulgences. 

Taehyung quickly followed the smell, growing more excited with each step. Through the narrowly winding alleyways and past some rather alarming scenes, Taehyung did not stop. He could barely keep himself from salivating once he arrived at the source. 

There she was. A beacon of light in the dreary depths of a neglected corner of the world. Taehyung curiously observed her as she fluttered from body to body, carefully checking pulses and offering aid. He couldn’t help but scoff at her earnesty. There was no use in saving these people. They were beyond salvation. Yet, he silently watched her work as she hauled around her makeshift med kit. That was a mistake. The more he watched her, the more personal interest he took. 

After devising a plan, Taehyung was ready to make his move. He started at the opposite end of the street, intending to meet up with her somewhere in the middle. He crouched beside each body with an extended hand; random passerbys would see a well dressed man committing charity work out of the goodness of his heart. That was his intention, though he was merely hypnotizing each person into a deep slumber if they weren’t already passed out. 

“Are you looking for someone, sir?” the young woman piped up behind him.

“Not in particular,” Taehyung coolly answered as he stood up to face her.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but may I ask what someone like you is doing in a place like this if you’re not looking for someone in particular?” she crossed her arms with distrust.

“Is it a crime to want to help out the less fortunate? What we’re doing doesn’t seem to be much different. May I ask what a young girl like you is doing out here all alone in the middle of the night? It can be very dangerous,” his deep voice resonated in the air. 

“Oh. You’re helping them too? I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean any harm. People like you just don’t really come down here unless it’s for certain unspeakable acts,” she bowed her head apologetically. 

“Unspeakable? You help the people who partake in such acts,” Taehyung observed keenly, “Why bring them aid?”

“If I don’t, no one else will,” the girl answered solemnly. 

“That simple hm? You seek nothing in return? Or is your vice that of self appointed importance?” Taehyung slowly approached the girl. 

“I help them because they need it. Because they’d die without someone like me,” the girl held her ground.

“How admirable. I’m impressed, young miss. Please don’t think I was insulting you, I’m genuinely fascinated by you. Would you care to accompany me for dinner?” he extended his arm to her ever so slightly. 

“It’s a bit late for dinner isn’t it?” she responded timidly. 

“I suppose calling it a midnight snack would be more fitting. Your answer?” Taehyung asked calmly, concealing his impatience. 

“Forgive my apprehension. I’m sure you’re a fine gentleman, it’s just that this isn’t a place one would normally find fine gentlemen. I’ll gladly join you for breakfast in the morning,” she countered.

Taehyung’s eye twitched with frustration, but luckily it was too dark for the girl to see it. He needed to feed. That night. 

“I’m not keen on breakfast meals. How about tomorrow evening, during normal dinner time hours? Unless you can’t skip a day of helping the helpless,” he suggested. 

“That would be fine,” the girl finally agreed, “Oh, and I never caught your name, sir.”

“Taehyung. Pleasure to meet you,” he bowed elegantly.

“I’m Maggie, the pleasure is all mine,” she curtsied awkwardly.

After hashing out the details. Taehyung reluctantly left her alone. He wanted nothing more than to sink his fangs into her jugular, but something held him back. His curiosity got the better of him, but after living for all these years it was hard for him to find something interesting. He figured it couldn’t hurt. 

Taehyung cursed himself as he tore into an unsuspecting victim who had passed out drunk on the street. He retched at the foul taste, but this is what he has had to resort to. He couldn’t afford to be run out of another country yet again. His more refined taste would have to be put on hold for the time being (oh how he missed the good old days when people feared him enough to bring pristine victims monthly).

Rain lightly tapped against the window that Taehyung gazed out of as he scanned the crowd for Maggie. There were so many things he wanted to ask her, though a single drop of her blood would tell him everything he needed to know. Of course, that wasn’t as entertaining as an old fashioned conversation.  

Maggie finally arrived, and the restaurant host escorted her to the table. Taehyung could tell that she made an effort to look presentable. He reasoned that she was wearing her finest dress, though it had a plain and rather boring look to it. Plus, she wasn’t even wearing a fancy hat, much less a bonnet. 

“Good evening, Mr. Taehyung,” she curtsied before she sat down.

“Good evening, Miss Maggie. Have you been well?” Taehyung asked politely. 

“As well as I can be, I suppose. Yourself?” Maggie extended the same courtesy. 

“I’m splendid, now that you’re here. Tell me about yourself,” he dove right in. 

“I’m just an average girl. Nothing really special about me,” she shrugged while tugging at a strand of hair, “I never thought I’d be able to eat in a place like this in a million years. You must be embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“I disagree. I think you’re the most interesting thing here, apart from me of course,” Taehyung let out a low chuckle, “I gather you come from a poor family? What do they think about your late night escapades?” 

“They’re...gone. Sickness took them. Cholera,” Maggie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “I don’t wanna see anyone else die so I…”

“Ah. That’s your noble cause huh? Admirable,” Taehyung took a long sip from his wine glass.

“And what of you, Mr. Taehyung? You seem rather peculiar yourself. What’s your reason for visiting that ward so late at night?” Maggie deflected the subject away from her.

“You could say I’m a humanitarian of sorts. I visit at least once a month, it’s a necessity for me,” he smiled slyly, “What else do you want to know? I haven’t had a decent conversation in ages.”

“You struck me as rather peculiar. A handsome gentleman like yourself lurking around giving aid to the weak. And then you only gave me one name when we introduced ourselves. I assumed it was your first name, so I gave you my first name in return. Forgive me if I was mistaken,” Maggie took a sip of water. 

“One name is all you need to know, dear. I’m happy we’re on a first name basis. However, I can address you otherwise if you deem it improper,” Taehyung offered.

The rest of the evening went on pleasantly. The meal was delicious, probably the best meal Maggie had ever had. She noticed that Taehyung’s meat was barely cooked, it was practically still raw. She decided not to mention it when she saw him happily gobble it down. Maggie also noticed that his red wine was thicker than what she was accustomed to seeing, but she figured it was a fancy alcohol that rich people drank. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by asking. 

Taehyung’s leg bounced quickly under the table. Maggie’s aroma grew more intense the longer he was with her. Her scent was intoxicating, and it took everything in his power not to take her then and there. He was in a conundrum. He took a liking to this spunky girl. He was torn. He didn’t know when to devour her, if to devour her at all. 

By the end of the night, he had decided. He’d keep her around for as long as he wanted, it wouldn’t be a big deal. He could easily end her life whenever he pleased anyway. The only thing he’d have to worry about was his self control. 

Taehyung and Maggie began to meet regularly. Taehyung would share the finer things in life with her. He’d take her to botanical gardens and fancy museums. In return, Maggie taught him everything she knew about medicine. She detested the use of cocaine as a common remedy, and preferred to make her own medicine. Taehyung accompanied her on her nightly rounds, he enjoyed every second he spent with her. 

It took about a year for Taehyung to officially court Maggie. She accepted, of course, and was now visiting Taehyung’s home for the first time. Home was an understatement. His mansion resided on a massive estate. 

A grand feast awaited Maggie. Her favorite dishes and desserts lined the dinner table, with Taehyung sitting at the opposite end. As Maggie dug into the food, she struggled to hold her tongue. A question had been lingering on her mind for quite some time now.

“Is everything alright, Miss Maggie? Is the food inadequate?” Taehyung asked from across the room. 

“The food is delicious, probably the best I’ve ever had. Your kitchen staff must be very talented,” Maggie shook her head. 

“Ah, I have no staff here. I’m glad you enjoy the food, it was all made by me,” Taehyung said proudly. 

“You take care of this entire property by yourself?” Maggie’s jaw dropped in shock.

“It’s tough sometimes, and lonely. I suppose I could hire one person to help out,” Taehyung lifted his eyebrows at Maggie. 

“M-me? I’m not really a good cook but--”

“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. As you can see, I have more rooms than I know what to do with. You’re welcome to stay here with me for as long as you like,” Taehyung offered.

“Can you answer one question for me first, Mr. Taehyung?” Maggie asked tentatively. 

“Ask me anything,” Taehyung smiled.

“Are...are you ill?” Maggie looked at him with concern, “Please don’t take any offense. I noticed that we only meet in the evenings or when it’s a cloudy day. And I know that you have a predilection for barely cooked meats, and I’m sure eating raw things isn’t good for you. Also when we first met I thought rich people just had fancy alcohol but I can never see anyone drinking the same concoction as you whenever we eat at restaurants,” she rambled. 

“My my, aren’t you observant,” Taehyung’s lips twisted into an amused smile, “Are you afraid of monsters?”

“Monsters aren’t real,” Maggied quickly answered, annoyed that he deflected her questions. 

“Are you sure about that? Think carefully. I only go out at night or under cloud cover. I prefer my meat raw. I drink a rather strange red liquid that you should be very familiar with since you tend to the drunkards who are bound to get into fights down in the slums,” Taehyung toyed with her. 

“What? Do you expect me to believe that you’re some sort of vile creature that drinks blood?” Maggie laughed nervously.

In an instant, Taehyung’s chair was vacant as he menacingly stood over Maggie, “That is precisely the truth. Have you heard of vampyres?” he licked his lips.

Maggie was too frightened to move. Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her? Her eyes narrowed in on the fangs Taehyung bared as he smiled eerily down at her. 

 “I’ve heard of them. The people in the slums are terrified of being sucked dry, claiming that people wandering alone at night have a death wish. I thought they were just delusional,” panic gripped Maggie, “Were you going to eat me the first night we met?” 

“I desperately wanted to. You know the irresistible and mouth watering smell of a bakery in the morning? That’s what you smell like to me, only ten times more alluring and potent,” Taehyung nodded.

“Then why haven’t you yet?” Maggie questioned. 

“Because, my dear Miss Maggie, I am a fool. I have taken a liking to you. As you can imagine, being an immortal being gets lonely. You’ve provided me with more joy and entertainment than I’ve had in a while. At this point, I’d rather have you stay alive,” he sighed. 

“So if I stayed here with you, you’d promise you’d never harm me?” Maggie attempted to calm her breathing.

“Of course, I would not touch a hair on your head. Unless you want me to,” he winked.

“You would make me into a vampyre?” Maggie’s eyes widened.

“I was hinting at a more carnal interaction, but I could do that as well. Do you want an immortal life?” Taehyung’s eyes wandered to her exposed neck. 

“No. Not if it costs others their lives. I must be crazy Mr. Taehyung. You’ve admitted that you’re a monster and yet I still feel safe with you. I would love to move in and keep you company, if you’ll have me,” Maggie smiled fondly. 

“You’re very strange, Miss Maggie. That’s not at all the reaction I thought you’d have, but I’m happy for it. Very well, you may stay here. I can help you bring your belongings tomorrow night,” Taehyung grinned. 

“I’m curious; were you born a vampyre?” Maggie piped up. Taehyung let out a hearty laugh. 

“No, I was a human once like you. I got into a scuffle with a nasty bloke in the 16th century. Rather than killing me, he gave me a far worse end. He turned me. I haven’t seen him to this day, but I’m sure the slimy bastard is still undead somewhere in the world,” Taehyung’s cheery face fell into a scowl. 

“16th century? You’re an old man!” Maggie exclaimed teasingly.

“But I have the physical body of a young man, that must count for something, Taehyung chuckled, “Come, I can escort you to your room.”

“Am I staying the night?” Maggie tilted her head.

“That was my assumption. You’re free to leave at any time,” Taehyung shrugged. 

“It’s just that...I’ve never left my family home. I’ve been pretty lonely since everyone died. I can’t imagine how you must feel…” she trailed off.

“You’ve helped me with that tremendously. I guess we’ve cured each other’s loneliness, yes?” Taehyung cupped his hands over Maggie’s.

It was the first time he had ever touched her. His fingers were ice cold, resembling the kind of cold only a corpse could possess. Instinctively, she took his hands in hers and attempted to blow warm air onto them. Taehyung knew it would never work, but he appreciated the gesture. He pulled her into a warm embrace. 

“Forgive me if this is inappropriate. You make me feel at ease,” Taehyung whispered. To his surprise, Maggie hugged him back tightly. She didn’t say anything, but her actions were clear enough. 

Taehyung sat in an armchair in his room reading a novel a couple hours after he bid Maggie goodnight. He was pleased with the outcome of the night’s events. He was honestly dreading the thought of having to kill Maggie if she were to run away screaming. He was glad things didn’t come to that. 

There was a knock on the door. With a wave of his hand the door swung open, revealing a sleepy Maggie on the other side. 

“I heard a strange noise and couldn’t fall back to sleep,” Maggie yawned. 

“Don’t lie,” Taehyung chided without looking up from his book. 

“I’ve never slept away from home before and being alone in that big room scares me,” Maggie admitted, her eyes cast down to the floor. 

“That’s what I thought. You’re welcome to use my bed. I’ll stay here while you sleep,” Taehyung finally looked up and kindly gestured to the large bed.

“Where’s your coffin?” Maggie asked as she wiggled into the sheets. 

“That’s a stereotype. Do I look like the type of guy who sleeps in a stuffy wooden coffin? Nonsense. However, there is soil from my hometown beneath the bed,” Taehyung tsked.

“Really?” Maggie’s eyes grew wide. 

“Nope. Go to bed, Miss Maggie,” Taehyung chuckled. 

“Care to join me?” Maggie asked as she stretched. 

“I’m not going to sleep--”

“Then neither am I! I’m practically wide awake now,” Maggie interrupted him. 

Taehyung put his book down and walked to the bed, opting to sit on the end, a respectable distance away from Maggie. They talked the night away. Now that Maggie had some time to process everything, she had a plethora of questions ranging from vampyres to fashion throughout the years. 

“So have you ever been married? Or in love?” Maggie probed. 

“Never been married. Have been in love a few times. As you can imagine they all ended in heartache. Truthfully, I’ve been questioning why I let myself get so attached to you,” Taehyung confessed. 

“I’m glad you did. Because I love you, Mr. Taehyung. I fell in love with your grace and intellect, and of course you’re extremely handsome. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way about me, I just wanted to be candid with you before living together,” Maggie tugged at her hair. 

“Miss Maggie, I foolishly fell in love with you. You’d be one with the dirt by now if I hadn’t been so enthralled by you. Hm, that didn’t come out very romantic,” Taehyung shook his head before continuing, “The feeling is mutual. I know I can’t give you a normal marriage, but I promise to love you until the end.” 

Maggie crawled towards Taehyung and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Taehyung deepened the kiss as he pushed her flat onto the bed. Hands wandered. Giggles filled the air. Clothing fell to the ground. Soon, both beings were stark naked as they gazed into each other’s eyes. 

“Are you sure you want to go any further?” Taehyung asked.

“I want all of you inside me,” Maggie replied as she brought him in for another kiss.

Taehyung guided his dick to her entrance, patiently teasing it as he coated himself in her juices. Once he was drenched, he slowly slid into her, giving her time to adjust to his size. She let out soft moans as he went deeper. 

They laced their fingers together once he began to thrust. He started slowly, making sure she was enjoying herself. He wanted to enjoy all of her delicately, taking careful care not to break her. His prior flings with the whores in the brothels was different. He didn’t care about them, he used them solely for his own pleasure. But this time, he wanted to please Maggie. He was happy to see her eyes shut with pleasure as he picked up the pace. 

Taehyung placed his thumb on a certain little sensitive nub, making Maggie jump. Her eyes were blown out with lust as she arched her back. Taehyung worked her body perfectly, timing his thrusts with the clitoral stimulation. It didn’t take long for Maggie’s entire body to shake. 

“Tae-Taehyung I--”

“Go ahead. Just let it all out, Maggie,” Taehyung demanded. He accidentally let his power of persuasion slip into that statement. Maggie came on the spot, cumming all over his cock as she moaned. It wasn’t long after until Taehyung released his seed inside of her. 

Maggie’s chest heaved as she lay motionless on the bed. That was the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. Taehyung cleaned her up before tucking her back into the bed. Once he cleaned himself up, he joined her side. 

“Don’t worry about getting pregnant. I’m technically dead anyway,” he kissed her forehead before they both dozed off. 

Taehyung woke up the following evening to an empty bed. He searched the house, unable to find Maggie. He began to worry. Did she leave him to get help? Did she abandon him?

“Good morning! Sleep well?” Maggie called out to him as she walked through the front doors.

“Why were you outside?” Taehyung questioned quickly.

“Lemme show you,” Maggie took Taehyung’s hand and led him outside. She proudly showed off a patch of crudely repotted plants. She explained to him that she went into town to get a few. Since she’d save a couple lives here and there, some people felt indebted to her. She called on her favors and managed to wrangle up a couple flowers and herbs.

“I love the botanical garden you always take me to. I figured we can try and make our own here since you have so much space,” Maggie smiled.

“Do you garden often?” Taehyung asked while looking at the half wilted plants.

“Never have, but it can’t be that hard right? Just give them water and love. Just watch, this place will rival that fancy botanical garden,” a flicker of determination lit up in her eyes. 

Several happy years later, Maggie had kept her word. It had been ten wonderful years filled with merriment. Taehyung was not the man he was before. Maggie had softened his heart, and he was thankful for it. He accompanied her when she tended to the people in the slums, learning the art of medicine by her side. She even helped curb his bloodlust. Taehyung only fed on the people who were beyond help, or those who actively sought death. Maggie still didn’t like it, but of course that was out of her control. 

Taehyung’s arms were wrapped around Maggie as they admired their personal garden. It was a struggle at first, but they discovered that Taehyung had a godlike green thumb, and basically resurrected the plants back from the dead. With his guidance, Maggie was able to see her vision come true. 

One night, Taehyung had to leave the mansion for a few hours to meet with his business colleagues (he was a rather savvy businessman, being around for a couple hundred years does that to a person). Taehyung itched to return to Maggie’s side and barely paid attention to the meeting. She always claimed that she would be fine, it was only a couple hours after all. Even so, Taehyung worried about her. 

Finally the meeting was adjourned, and he was free to rush home. He found the front door unlocked upon his arrival. He gave the handle a quizzical look, he was sure that he had locked it. 

“Maggie? Where are you?” he called out. 

“Taehyung! Run away--” Maggie’s muffled scream came from the dining room. 

Two big men stood at either side of a tied up Maggie, who now had a black eye. One of the men held a knife to her throat, close enough to draw out an inkling of blood. 

“‘ello, Mr. Taehyung. Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” a third stout man with a thick cockney accent emerged from a corner of the room, “I’ll cut to the chase. You let us kill you, and the little missy gets to live. If you resist, she dies. Simple as that.”

“Who are you people? You’re making a huge mistake. I have connections all over the country that--”

“Spare us the horseshit. We know what you are, filthy vampyre,” the word rolled off the stout man’s tongue like a slur, “The VEC sent us. You know ‘em? Stands for ‘Vampyre Extermination Company’ it does. We’re the best they ‘av, so you might as well surrender now.”

“Oh you already know? Lovely, that saves me time,” Taehyung growled as he seemingly phased from where he stood over to Maggie (but vampyres can’t teleport, they just have super speed and can fly sometimes).

In the blink of an eye, he broke the neck of the man who held the knife and threw the other guy across the room. He quickly released Maggie, and hugged her tightly before returning to attack the intruders. He lifted the stout man by his neck and held him against the wall.

“You sure you’re the best? The VEC must be a pretty unsuccessful organization,” Taehyung taunted. 

“I told yous we should’ve just killed her in the first place and then ambushed him!” the stout man yelled to no one in particular. 

Taehyung sank his fangs into the man’s neck, before ripping out a piece. He was going to enjoy torturing him. It was what he deserved for harming his beloved Maggie. A gunshot went off, stopping Taehyung in the middle of his raging frenzy. 

Taehyung looked back in horror. Maggie held her bleeding stomach, sinking to the floor. The man he had thrown at the wall earlier was wielding a gun with a smirk on his face. Taehyung lost it. He ripped the assailant’s beating heart out from his chest.

He scrambled over to Maggie, cradling her in his arms. 

“That hurt,” she joked weakly.

“Shh, don’t speak. I have to get you to a doctor. I can carry you--”

“It’s too late. This wound is worse than most of what we’ve seen in the slums. I’m just sorry I have to leave you so soon,” a tear rolled down her cheek. 

“No! No please don’t leave me. There’s still time! I can turn you and we can be together forever,” Taehyung wept.

“You know I never wanted that. I’m sorry I’m being so selfish,” Maggie coughed  up blood, “I love you, Mr. Taehyung. Don’t ever forget that,” she said with her final breath. 

Taehyung held her until he saw the light leave her eyes. Anguish and sorrow filled his soul. He held her close and sobbed over her lifeless body. 

“You tricked her into lovin’ ya, eh? There’s no end to the wickedness of you bastards,” the stout man struggled to say as he drowned in his own blood.

Taehyung gently laid Maggie’s body on the floor and walked over to the stout man. He stepped on the man’s throat, crushing his windpipe and adding pressure to his gaping wound. The man’s eyes screamed in pain as Taehyung looked down at him blankly. 

“The VEC huh? I’ll remember that. I’ll see you in hell someday,” Taehyung spat as he trampled the man beneath him.  

Taehyung didn’t leave Maggie’s side for a week straight. He couldn’t bear to do anything; he didn’t want to admit that she was gone. His heart broke every time he saw her, but he couldn’t bring himself to move her. It wasn’t until her corpse was a bloated smelly mess that finally motivated Taehyung to move.

“I’m sorry I let you become this way, Miss Maggie,” Taehyung whispered as he carried the body out to the botanical garden. He buried her there, among her cherished plants. 

Taehyung fled his estate. The crime scene wasn’t discovered until a year later when his business associates came to check on him after he missed several meetings. 

Taehyung swore that he would never love again. Never open up again. And never ever, under any circumstances, interact with the VEC. As much as he wanted to tear the establishment apart, he knew Maggie would be against it. He couldn’t bear disappointing her, even in death.  

He settled down in a small unsuspecting town in a different country. He bought an abandoned property where he swore he’d live out the rest of his days quietly and peacefully. 

Published August 21st, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2019 Baepsaesbae.

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part VII

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 1,496

Note: If you’re enjoying the story leave a comment, it means so much! <3

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.8 Pt.9

It was a lovely day. And you chose to spend it with your best friend. At least you can keep each other company without anyone disturbing you.

“Let’s have a walk in the gardens.” You invited Sansa after knocking her door. She opened it revealing her divine hair done in a southerner style.

“Why such a beautiful princess would want to waste her time with someone like me? I mean... of course I’ll go-“ she bit her lip and flushed. You giggled.

“Not a waste at all.” She shyly smiled.

“This flower... is gorgeous!” It doesn’t compare to your beauty. “I’ve never seen one like it. They don’t grow in the North.”

“Yes, they are rare yet special. They are called The Middlemist Red. Actually, there’s only two of these left in the world, as far as I know. The other one is on Highgarden.” You commented gazing at her.

“You also have vast knowledge in botany.”

“I am familiar with the topic. I have friends who live there. They taught me.”

“Ser Loras?”

“Indeed. He is one of my best. Now he’s with my uncle Renly, they have always been closer, I can’t blame him. His sister is married to him.”

“Do you want to marry a handsome lord?”

“Sure. Just not now. Or anytime soon. First I want to travel. Meet people. Have adventures. So when I’m old and grey I have a lot of memories.”

“Arya wanted that too. Robb and you would have made a good match.” Sansa’s stomach twisted at her own words. She didn’t know why.

“He was a gentleman. I respect him and I understand his position. He wants justice. I know the last thing you desire in the world is to marry my brother.”

“I was so stupid... a stupid girl with a stupid dream of marrying a handsome prince.

He turned out to be my worst nightmare.”

“Hey hey, you are not stupid. Every girl would dream that. The circumstances didn’t play in your favor. But daylight will always come. It’s not your fault. Nothing’s gonna hold you down for long.” You sympathetically reassured.

“Thank you, Y/N. You are so good with words.” You resumed your steps and continued talking about the flowers.

“I want to introduce you to someone. Dear Y/N. This is Shae.” Tyrion said. The young woman clumsy bowed.

“It’s a pleasure, Princess Y/N. Your uncle always speaks about you.” Her accent sounded foreign.

“Nice to meet you, Shae.”

“I was planning to make her your new handmaid but since you don’t really need handmaidens I’ll be giving her to your beloved friend Sansa Stark.”

“I’m sure she’ll be pleased with your service, my lady.” Shae left. “Are you in love with her?” You playfully inquired once you were alone.

“Shae is special.” He looked quite smitten to her, the way he looked at her gave him away.

“If she makes you happy then I’m happy for you, uncle.”

“I intend to keep her safe. If your mother, my father, or someone finds out it’ll be a mess. Just Varys knows and now you.”

“I won’t breathe a word.” You crossed your heart. And you would never betray his confidence, he was the one to comfort you when your mother and Joffrey were unkind.

What a consideration of Cersei to host a dinner for your two younger siblings, the northern girl and you. You tried to keep a good face so your mother wouldn’t be scolding you for her own falseness. You seated next to Sansa. Myrcella and Tommen in front of you and Cersei at the top of the table. The room was awkward and quiet.

“When will Joffrey and Sansa be married?” Myrcella suddenly asked.

“Soon, darling, when the war is over.” Cersei answered.

“Mother says I’ll have a new gown for the ceremony and another for the feast. But yours will be ivory since you are the bride.” She joyfully announced but the tall girl didn’t reply back.

“The Princess just spoke to you.” The lioness peered at Myr and then at Sansa.

“Pardon, your grace. I’m sure your dress will be beautiful, Myrcella. I’m counting the days until the fight is done and I can pledge my love to the King in the sight of the gods.” She staged a very pitiful smile.

“Is Joffrey going to kill Sansa’s brother?” Now the little prince asked.

“He might.” Sansa took a big sip of her cup, hiding her fear and pain. “Would you like that?” He frowned.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Even if he does, Sansa will do her duty. Won’t you, little dove?” You bit your tongue. Seeing her like that broke your heart. She was on the brink of tears.

“We can’t be certain of anything. The food was delicious.” Changing the topic was the first thing that came to your mind.

“It’s a pretty ring, where did you get it, little dove?” Cersei glare landed suspiciously at her finger. She opened her mouth but didn’t utter a single word. You put your hand on Sansa’s to calm her anxiety.

“I gave it to her so she can remember her home, mother.”

“The home of traitors.” She bitterly laughed.

“I lost my appetite. Excuse us.” You gestured Sansa to stand up and left the place. “May I escort you to your chambers, my lady?” She nodded lowering her head.

“Your brother and your sister are just as friendly as you, Y/N.”

“They like you. I apologize for my mother’s behavior. Have a lovely night.” You bid her goodnight, she gave you a quick hug and then you couldn’t help but kissed swiftly her cheek, the torches were burning low so you didn’t quite see her reaction. You hoped you didn’t make her feel uncomfortable.

The following day you chatted with uncle Tyrion. He told you some news you weren’t expecting.

“Your sister must go. She will be promised to Prince Trystane of Dorne. I tell you before you learn from your mother.”

“She won’t like that. She’s so young, uncle... I don’t know.” It was true, giving her to strangers and people who despise your family didn’t sound like a good idea.

“She’ll be safer there if the city falls when one of the self-proclaimed Kings come.” He had a point.

“You are right.” Still, you feared for Myrcella.

You walked to the throne room just to find the King humiliating the Stark girl and shouting things at her with all the lords and ladies contemplating the scene. She was on her knees, with her garments all ripped out.

“If we want Robb Stark to hear us we’re going to have to speak louder!” Ser Meryn was ready to strike her.

“Stop it! What do you think you’re doing?” You furiously yelled.

“Are you crazy? What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?” Tyrion intervened.

“The kind who serves his king, Imp.” Meryn responded.

“Careful now. We don’t want to get blood all over your pretty white cloak.” Bronn added looking at him, a hand on his sword.

“Here, my lady.” You took off your cape. Luckily you were wearing one today. “What did I told you about treating her like this? She did nothing wrong. Have you no regard for her honor, brother? She is going to be your queen!”

“I’m punishing her.” He complained.

“For what crimes? She did not fight her brother’s battle, you half-wit.” The youngest Lannister repressed him.

“You can’t talk to me like that. The king does as he likes!” Joffrey whined.

“The Mad King did as he liked. Has your uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?”

“No one threatens his grace on the presence of the kingsguard.” The awful knight spoke.

“I’m not. I’m just educating my nephew. Bronn, next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him. That was a threat. See the difference?”

“Come.” You helped Sansa got up.

“Tell us the truth. Do you want an end to this engagement?” The throne room followed you with their glances.

“I am loyal to King Joffrey. My one true love.” You shook your head to the short man. Sansa walked out just as if nothing had happened. You knew too well she had to keep pretending, the wrong people might hear if she said what she really wanted to say.

Late at night you found yourself staring at the ceiling of your room. You were thinking about Sansa, oh how hard you were falling for that smile and those blue eyes... she was perfect, but of course she’ll never feel the same way, considering the possibility was silly. She deserved to be loved, you could love her, would she let you do it? No, you were also a girl. Being around her was enough, protecting her and keeping the promise you made to Lady Catelyn. Your little sister is going off to some strange land, gods, life is getting harder...

[dreamingoftaron]

Daddy..

 Warnings:smut, rough sex, daddy!Taron

Pairing: Taron x Female!reader

 Word count: 1,635

Summary: Quarantine between Y/N and Taron gets a little steamy..

“AHHHH!” you screamed as you threw the Nintendo switch controller across the room, so much for that game of Mario Kart..

“It’s official, I’m losing my mind.” You sighed, throwing hands up in defeat. You and Taron were on your second month of quarantine and it’s safe to say you were going a bit mad.

“Relax babe.” Taron said pulling you in for a hug, running his fingers through your hair. “This will all be over before you know it, we should enjoy the time we have together while we still have it.” He said in a soothing yet optimistic tone. You leaned into his chest, “I know babe, you’re right, but I’d just kill to be able to go outside for something other than shopping for essentials, you know? I miss restaurants!” you pouted.

Taron giggled into your hair. “I know my love me too, once this is all over I’ll take you out for a beautiful dinner.” You sighed in contentment, grateful to have such a beautiful and caring man to call your own.  “How do you do it? Like, not lose your mind I mean?” you questioned looking up at him. He chuckled at your question, “Trust me I am, but having you here makes everything a little easier.”  Your heart melted. “Aww baby!” you cooed.

“Plus I’m just a little bit better at hiding my madness than you are.” He joked. You slapped his chest and he burst out laughing. “Real smooth Egerton.” You retorted as you went to stand up, but halfway into standing you heard “Come here, you” and felt two strong arms pull you down. You plopped back down into Taron’s lap from the force of his strength. “Ow!” you yelped annoyed as Taron pulled you into a bear hug and began rocking you both side to side.

“You know I’m only playing Y/N, you’re the love of my life and there’s no one I’d rather be stuck in quarantine with.” He said kissing your cheek sweetly. You caved as he spoke, you were putty in his hands and he knew it. “That’s better.” You teased leaning in to kiss him. Taron returned the kiss eagerly as his hands made their way to your cheeks, cupping them gently and pulling you as close to him as he could. No matter how close the two of you were, for Taron, It was never enough. You moaned into the kiss and began running your hands through his hair. Things were starting to heat up quickly, but you didn’t mind at all, and really, who were you to stop it?

You began leaning back into the floor, Taron gently moving himself on top of you, cupping the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself lying down. Once he placed you down as gently as possible you felt his hands travelling down your arms to your wrists, gripping them and moving them above your head, holding them there as his soft lips teased across your jaw, trailing down your neck and chest leaving the sweetest of kisses. His hands moved up your stomach bringing your shirt along with them, his thighs spreading your legs apart beneath him, Good God, the things he did to you, the things he made you feel. He had you wrapped around his little finger and you were entirely his for the taking, and you loved it.

You moaned as Taron’s kisses became sweet love bites, nipping and sucking at your skin, marking what was his. Your hands trailed up his back slowly appreciating every toned muscle before tugging at the hem of his shirt. “This. Off. Now.” You demanded. Taron chuckled. “Yes Princess Y/N.” he teased, “But first-“ He paused and lifted your own shirt off your body, exposing your naked chest. You blushed as he looked at you in awe, marvelling the pure beauty of you that he never grew tired of.

“Just beautiful. “ He praised, barely audibly as he ran his hands over the soft skin of your waist. “God I love touching you, having you, hearing you.. How can one woman be so absolutely breathtaking?” He wondered aloud making you shiver at his words, you could feel his love and it was intoxicating. You jolted up from your place on the carpet, practically ripping Taron’s shirt from his body, his eyes widened in shock, a smirk growing on his face. You smashed your lips into his, not even giving him a chance to respond and pulled him towards you, finally connecting your bodies. Skin to skin. You both moaned into each other’s lips at the contact and began grasping for each other, caressing skin and searching for any article of clothing left to tear off each other. Taron stood up quickly ridding himself of his boxers and sweatpants as you removed your socks. You began to untie the string of your sweatpants to remove them until you felt two strong hands pull you by your ankles. You squealed as Taron pulled you towards him so he was sat between your open legs. He looked up at you with a warning glare, yet his eyes were somehow still clouded with lust.  

“Never do my favourite part for me.” He growled. His words and the low tone he spoke in sent shivers down your spine. You gasped in amazement as Taron effortlessly ripped your sweatpants from your legs. How was he that strong?! He took his time running his hands up and down the soft skin of your legs. Savouring the way you felt beneath him. Once he made his way back up he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs. You bit your lip as you watched Taron look up at you with a sultry stare, lifting you by your ass to get you closer to his face. He looked ravenous, like he was about to fucking devour you right then and there. Your heart beat quickened in anticipation and your hands flew to his hair and tugged at his hair as he slowly and painfully dotted your thighs with delicious kisses, making you wetter by the second. You moaned the closer he got, and when you did he only moved further away from where you needed him most, leaving you aching for more.  Your skin burned where he held you and all your senses were dialled to 100. You could hear, smell and feel everything he was doing to you x10, It was maddening.

You moaned as you felt his tongue licking a line back up your thigh getting achingly close to your flower. You watched him as he looked up at you with a hungry glare, placing a delicate kiss on each of your thighs before he dove into you. “AHH Fuck!!” you whined, your back lifting from the carpet as Taron’s tongue worked it’s magic. Holy fuck. He never failed to please you. He lifted his arm up and across your waist and held you down as he ate you. Tears formed in your eyes as you felt his tongue circling and sucking harshly on your clit and one of his hands dancing up your leg, slowly pushing a finger into you. You couldn’t hold back the screams anymore. You gripped his hair and watched him working on you. The way his muscles were contracting, the way he was completely focused on pleasing you. It was all too much.

“Baby p-please, I need you” you pleaded. Taron looked up at you and winked. Removing his hand from inside you and placing it in his mouth, sucking every little drop of you off, moaning as he did.  

“How bad do you want me?” he teased, loving the effect he was having on you.

“So bad Daddy, please!”

Taron locked eyes with you, You’d never called him Daddy before, but it had awoken something in him. Before you could open your mouth Taron was on top of you, binding your wrists above your head.

“Say that again.” He demanded.

“Please.. Daddy?”

With that Taron slammed himself into you, you both groaning at the feeling of each other, Taron leaning his forehead onto yours, breathing heavy, picking up a steady rhythm with his thrusts. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he began pounding into you, screaming his name.

“Who makes you feel this good baby?”

“You do D-Daddy, AHhh oh my god!”

Taron dropped your wrists and was holding himself up by his arms, his biceps on either side of your head, Your words making him weak. You felt that similar knot trying in your stomach as Taron picked up his pace, hitting your sweet spot every time.

“Baby I’m g-gonna cum!”

Taron leant his head down to your ear, breathing heavy. “That’s a good girl, cum for Daddy.”

At that you lost it, your orgasm completely rocking your world. You wrapped your thighs around Taron screaming his name as you came, feeling your walls clenching around him. Taron came as you did, moaning your name and collapsing on top of you, tired and sweaty.

You both took a minute to collect yourselves before you felt Taron lift his head to brush the hair out of your face and give you a sweet kiss.

“I didn’t know you had a Daddy thing?” you questioned.

“I didn’t know YOU had a Daddy thing!” he replied, you both giggled

“Well I am a mystery” you teased, “and this little mystery really needs a shower” You added laughing.

You kissed Taron on the cheek as you sat up walking to the shower, he sat and watched you walk away admiring your ass in a trance. You turned around with a smirk, “Well are you coming… Daddy?”

You’d never seen him run so fast in his life.

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 10

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

Being a physics teacher, Adrien was used to solving problems. Yet, finding a competent assistant for Marinette fast enough was proving to be more difficult than he’d ever thought possible.

Sure, there were hundreds of applications and resumes stored in Gabriel’s database but none of the qualified people contacted in the last two days had agreed to come for an interview. Most had already had a job. Others, though jobless, were not willing to give a seemingly doomed company a chance.

Adrien shouldn’t despair though… or at least, that what his HR manager had said as he left for the day. Surely, tomorrow they would find a person crazy enough to jump on board. They might need a little training and time to work on their skills but at least they would be there. Right?

Adrien sighed, leaning into his chair. No. Marinette needed a professional, not a student to teach right now. At any other time, that might have worked but not this close to the show that bore her professional future on its metaphorical shoulders.

Adrien glanced at the clock. Half an hour until nine. A smile found its way on his face, his mouth salivating from just the memory. Yesterday’s meal was the best he’d had in a long time. Marinette was an amazing cook. Adrien knew his cuisine. He could recognize quality when he tasted it.

“Time to go.” Adrien stretched, standing up. “Ready, guys?”

“What’s the rush?” Plagg yawned, lazily flying out of his basket. “You need five minutes to get there, tops.”

“We need to drop by a store and my apartment first.”

“What for?” the kwami grumbled. “Didn’t you run enough today?”

“I thought it’d be polite for us to bring a dessert,” Adrien replied. “And Duusu needs more grapes.”

“Yippie!” The peacock kwami flew out from one of the shelves, doing a flip in midair. “Can I get the sweet green kind with a little pinkish tint on them?”

“They are called Cotton Candy, Duusu,” Nooroo said, getting out of his pile of fabric. “And they're not in season now. You know that.”

“But what if they are?”

“They are not.”

“But what if they are?”

“Duusu—”

“If they’re in stock, I’ll make sure to buy you enough for a week,” Adrien interrupted, putting on his jacket. “Otherwise, I’ll stock on a variety for you to try. Sounds good?”

“Yes!” Duusu squealed. “Thank you! You’re the best Master ever!”

“Nooroo, you can take some of those cuts before we leave. I noticed you like them.”

Nooroo’s eyes lit up. “You’re so generous, Master! Thank you!” He dove into the pile to gather as many pieces of silk as he could.

Plagg huffed, rolling his eyes. “Nuisances. Did we really have to take them with us? They would’ve been perfectly fine staying home. Better yet dormant back in their miraculouses.”

“They’ve been isolated for long enough,” Adrien replied. “I think they deserve some freedom for once.”

“Not at the expense of my peace,” Plagg grumbled.

Adrien reached over and scratched his kwami under the chin, evoking an involuntary purr from him. “You’ll benefit from being around other kwamis, Plagg. Maybe then you’ll become less grumpy.”

“Being grumpy is not art just anyone can muster,” Plagg mumbled under his breath, flying into Adrien’s bag. Duusu and Nooroo, with his pile of silk cuts, joined him a moment later. Adrien turned the light off and walked out of the office. After a quick visit to a nearby grocery store, he transformed around the corner and headed home to drop off Nooroo and Duusu. Appeasing the kwamis with food and Netflix, Adrien changed into his loungewear so he’d be able to just plop into a bed right after Marinette’s, then headed off to collect his rent fee.

At exactly nine o’clock, Chat Noir knocked on her window.  

“Good evening, Chat,” she greeted with a smile.

Chat grinned and inhaled, stepping into the room. Delicious. His mouth watered. “What’s for dinner?”

“Quiche Lorraine.”

“Sounds yummy. Smells heavenly.”

She giggled. “It is yummy. Go wash your paws while I set the table.”

Chat obeyed, though it was awkward at best to wash his gloved hands, but he supposed it was justified, seeing as he touched all kinds of surfaces on his way here. As he settled down in front of a steaming slice of quiche, Chat could hardly contain his excitement. This genius rent fee was his best idea ever. Period. “Itadakimasu.”

Marinette snickered, putting a slice of quiche on her plate. “Careful, Chat. Your weeb’s showing.”

He grinned. “But it’s you. You know all my flaws already. I don’t have to pretend.”

She cocked her head to the side. “I thought you would have overgrown that stage by now.”

Chat gasped dramatically. “You can never outgrow the wonder that is anime! It’s not a phase. It’s a part of me! How could you imply so, Princess?”

Marinette laughed. “Alright, alright. Eat before you choke on your drool.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Chat grinned before stuffing his mouth full of what he immediately judged to be the food of angels. “This is good. Very good. I could live off this my whole life.”

Marinette started on her own meal. “I learned my quiches from Papa. He’s the real deal when it comes to those. Mine aren’t up to his standard yet.”

“Says who? I remember your dad’s pies. They were delicious, but they weren’t better. In fact, in addition to being delicious, this quiche is also somehow different. There is something distinctly yours about it. So don’t you go selling yourself short.”

“You think so?”

He nodded. “You could make a fortune selling these. Marinette the Quiche Queen. I can see it now.”

Marinette laughed. “Dork. Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Then tell me how your day was while I indulge myself in this heavenly food.”

Marinette frowned, shifting her eyes to the side immediately.

“That bad?”

She nodded. “Since my assistant quit, I have to do twice the work now. And I was already struggling to keep up with my own portion. That’s why I’d stay overtime to finish whatever I couldn’t during the day, but now I can’t do even that so I’m falling behind already, and it’s only the first day.”

“Because of me and my rent fee?”

She shook her head. “Even if I didn’t have to cook for you, today my new boss enforced a curfew for us to leave the premises at the end of each working day. I have to be out of the building by eight or risk being sent on a mandatory day off the next day. And if that happens, I’ll fall even further behind which means Gabriel’s women’s line won’t make it to Paris' Fashion Week at the end of summer.”

“It’s good for your health and sanity, though, no? To get enough rest.”

“Not if I spend all of my ‘rest’ time worrying sick over not finishing my collection on time and losing my job, possibly my career, as a result,” Marinette grumbled. “Stupid curfew. Stupid Adrien. It’s like he doesn’t care in the slightest. Then, why should he care? Gabriel’s men’s line is on time and looks good. Adrien has nothing to worry about. It’s not like his whole future career hangs on that damned line.”

“I’m sure he realizes how important this is for you,” Chat said carefully. “Maybe he’s just trying to prevent you from killing yourself by introducing this curfew? Overworking and exhaustion can kill you, you know.”

“Then he could’ve just hired a new assistant for me instead,” Marinette murmured. “It would’ve been more effective.”

“And I’m sure he’s realizing that too and I won’t be surprised if he’s trying to find you one as fast as he can.”

Marinette fell silent as they continued to eat. When her plate was clean, she quietly added. “Sorry for being a downer. It’s just that… my whole career, my entire future is tied to that stupid line and this upcoming Paris Fashion Week. It will either make me or break me and after how much I’ve invested in this already… I’m not sure if I can handle the failure.”

Chat reached out, putting his hand over Marinette’s. “If I can help in any way, just tell me.”

She lifted her eyes full of tears to him, a sad smile on her lips. “You’re already helping, Chat. You gave me a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in. And honestly, this ridiculous rent fee of yours is kind of a godsend. I always enjoyed cooking. It helps me relax after a stressful day and knowing I have a friend to share my dinner with gives me the strength to hang on. So, thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” Chat shoved the last piece of his quiche in his mouth. “It’s not like I am not the one benefiting from this arrangement the most. Can I have one more slice, please?”

Marinette giggled, ruffling his hair. “Sure. And I’ll pack you some to take home.”

He closed his eyes in delight. “Thank you. Now I don’t have to admit I was already thinking of ways to beg you for thirds. This is undoubtedly the best meal I’ve had in the past few years.”

“Speaking of meals,” Marinette perked. “There is one good thing Adrien did with all the changes he’d implemented today.”

Chat quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it?”  

“Well, I have no idea why since Gabriel is a huge company but his father never had a cafeteria on site. We had to either go out for lunch or bring our own, and with all the stress and rush, I did tend to forget my meals until I was starving. But then with all the work on my plate, I wouldn’t have time to go out, so I’d settle for a snack from a vending machine. But today, Adrien announced that starting tomorrow, we’ll have our own cafeteria with freshly cooked meals on-site. The best part—the company pays. All employees get food for free.”

“Wow,” Chat tried to look surprised. “Isn’t Gabriel in trouble? How can he afford that?”

“I have no idea,” Marinette replied. “But I’m not complaining. It’ll be nice to eat normal meals again.”

Chat Noir smirked. Money wasn’t an issue. Having a cafeteria on-site didn’t cost as much as everyone thought, and his father had left behind a far bigger fortune than anyone had realized. It was only fair that some of it would go into replenishing the health of employees who’d sacrificed their wellbeing catering to his father’s every whim.

But!

Marinette thought he had a good idea! Huh! What happened to that annoyed and grumpy Marinette that glared at him at this morning’s meeting when he gathered his lead employees and announced new implementations?

“Seems like this new boss of yours isn’t so awful after all. Those new rules don't sound too bad.”

“Free food—yes, not bad at all. Curfews—no. Burn them with fire.”

Chat cocked his head to the side. “I suspect there is a reason you’re huffy about the curfew. Don’t tell me you were planning to sneak back in to work after feeding me?”

Marinette stilled for a brief moment, then cleared her throat. “That’s ridiculous. Why would you think such a thing? Are you done with that?” She pointed to his plate, standing up.

“Marinette, no,” Chat sighed, now reassured he’d made the right decision with that curfew. It seemed ridiculous to enforce it in the first place since all but Marinette left work at a decent hour, but it was the only way Adrien could think of forcing Marinette to go home and rest. “Please, promise me you won’t do that. You have all day for work. At night, you need to rest. You already collapsed once. Let’s not repeat that.”

“Don’t worry, Chat. I wouldn’t sneak back in.” Marinette shrugged. “I can’t afford to get caught and be sent home for a day. Not this close to my goal, but—” she smirked, “—a curfew doesn’t mean I can’t take work home, right?”

“I guess it doesn’t.” Chat sighed, standing up. “I’d better get going then. We wouldn’t want you to spend all your evening entertaining me and then lose sleep working.”

“You know if not for work, I’d totally kick your ass in a video game now.”

“Well, then let’s hope your boss will find you an assistant soon, so you’ll have free time to do that.”

“Let’s do that.”

Marinette packed him half of the leftover quiche and half of the macarons he’d brought her, both of them agreeing that they were too full after the main meal to have dessert right away. Then, she promised him not to stay up too late, and with that Chat Noir departed. He did have a patrol to get to.

Chat stopped at a nearby roof, wondering if he should even bother with patrolling. Hawkmoth was gone. So was Mayura. Whatever small crime was going on, the police could handle it. Paris didn’t need Ladybug and Chat Noir anymore. They didn’t have to patrol. They could go back to a somewhat normal life. Take those masks off. Maybe, finally, start a relationship. They could be free.

He only wished he could tell that to Ladybug.

But…

That sort of revelation would entail a conversation Adrien wasn’t sure he was ready for yet. He would eventually… if only because Nooroo and Duusu needed to go back to the Guardian. But not now. Not yet. He needed time to wrap his mind around it all himself first before opening up to someone else. It pained him to keep a secret from his Lady. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to look her in the eye next time they met, but what could he do? How would he explain? Would she understand the shame and anger and confusion that was consuming him?

His baton beeped.

Ladybug: I hope you’re enjoying the weather, Chaton, and I’m sorry to ask, but would it be okay for me to miss a few more days? Work’s gotten harder for me to manage.

Chat Noir: Of course, my Lady. Take all the time you need.

Ladybug: I really am sorry. Message me if something happens.

Chat Noir: Not a problem. Good luck with your work! Hope it goes well.

Ladybug: Thanks. I’ll see you in a few days. <3

Chat Noir: <3

That settled it. Patrol abandoned, Chat Noir headed straight home. Once back at his apartment, he detransformed and plopped on his bed.

“Are you alright, Master?” Nooroo asked, floating closer.

“He’s fine,” Plagg grumbled from nearby. “It’s his normal state of brooding.”

“Are you sure?” Duusu frowned from his place in front of Adrien’s laptop. “My wielders—”

“Your miraculous was broken at the time, Duusu, wasn’t it?” Plagg rolled his eyes. “I know my kitten, and I’m telling you he’s fine.”

“I am fine,” Adrien decided to end the argument before it started. “Just tired. Lots of work. Lots of things I have to think about.”

Once again trying to concede his own father was Hawkmoth, Adrien’s mind raced to the events of the past. Little details. Tiny hints. Bigger slip-ups. How could he never have suspected anything? Even Ladybug figured him out that one time until…

“Say, Nooroo?” Adrien turned over and propped himself up to lean on his elbows. “If my father was Hawkmoth, how could he be akumatized? The Collector?”

“It can be done,” Nooroo nodded. “The butterfly wielder’s power is to give supernatural abilities to anyone, including themselves.”

“As long as there are strong negative emotions, right? That’s what we gathered over the years.”

Nooroo shook his head. “Not necessarily. Your father searched for people who were upset and angry because they were easier to manipulate. But when he akumatized himself or Mme Nathalie, for example, neither of them had strong negative emotions, just a goal in mind.”

“Wait!” Adrien sat up. “Nathalie? Are you saying Nathalie knew and was helping him?”

Nooroo lowered his eyes, glancing at Duusu, who promptly bowed his head.

Gears clicking in his head, Adrien stared in shock at the peacock kwami. His eyes bulged. “Mayura… Nathalie was Mayura, wasn’t she?”

Neither kwami spoke. Neither looked at Adrien.

Silence enveloped the room, no one daring to move or say anything until a quiet why slipped Adrien’s lips.

“We don’t have a choice but to follow the orders of our masters,” Nooroo mumbled.

Adrien shook his head. “I know that. I don’t blame you. I just… I don’t understand. Why would Father want to terrorize the city in his spare time? Why would Nathalie… She was… Why would she help him? Why would she know and do nothing about it? I just can’t…”

“For your mother,” Duusu spoke, flying closer. “Your mother was her best friend and your father had a special place in her heart. Everything she did was for them.”

“My mom?” Adrien frowned. “What does Mom have to do with all of this? She disappeared when I was fourteen…” His eyes widened as he sucked in the air. “A few months before Hawkmoth first attacked.” Looking straight at the butterfly and peacock kwami, he pressed his lips together. “What am I missing? Tell me everything.”

Nooroo glanced at Duusu before murmuring, “I don’t think that’s—”

Adrien stood up, a tight, uncomfortable feeling gripping at his chest. “This is my family we’re talking about, my father and his assistant who terrorized this city and tried to kill me for years, supposedly for my mother. Don’t you think I have the right to know?”

“Spill it, guys,” Plagg said, flying to sit on Adrien’s shoulder. “I’m rather interested myself.”

Duusu lowered his head even further as Nooroo sighed and gave in, disclosing to Adrien the story of a young Gabriel and Emilie, two adventurers in love who found Duusu and him buried under the snow on a random Tibetan mountain on one of their expeditions. They brought them back to Paris, Gabriel choosing Nooroo as Emilie favoured Duusu. Only the peacock miraculous was broken and an unfortunate accident soon after left Emilie in a magical coma.

“She didn’t disappear?” Adrien whispered, his head feeling dizzier and dizzier with every word that left Nooroo’s mouth.

The kwami shook his head. “Your father put her on life support and hid her in the basement under your house.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “No. That can’t be.”

“He hoped that by obtaining Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses he’d be able to bring her back to life.”

“Why didn’t he take her to a hospital? They could’ve saved her.”

“A coma caused by magic cannot be resolved by human medicine,” Nooroo sighed.

“No.” Adrien backed away, shaking his head. “This can’t be right. You’re mistaken. My mom disappeared when I was fourteen. They pronounced her legally dead a few years ago. We even had a funeral! I attended that funeral! Don’t tell me she’s still in a coma in the basement of my father’s house!”

“She’s not,” Nooroo replied. “There was a really bad rainy season a few weeks before that funeral. The basement flooded. The system that kept her alive was damaged. The back-up sustained substantial water damage as well and couldn’t kick in when her life support failed. Every minute counted, and your father and Nathalie were both out of the house that day. When they got back, it was already too late.”

Nooroo paused for a moment, letting his words settle in before adding, “Your mother’s coffin at her funeral wasn’t closed because it was empty. It was because your father had no way of explaining how after years of claiming his wife was missing, he suddenly had her body, looking just as young as the day she’d disappeared. I’m sorry, Adrien.”

Stunned, Adrien continued to shake his head, his feet and hands going cold. A chill ran down his spine, skin tingling with discomfort as he struggled to breathe. “No. You’re lying.”

“Kwamis can’t lie,” Duusu whispered. “We can avoid saying things but we can’t lie.”

“No,” Adrien kept repeating. “This… this can’t be true.”

“That’s why Hawkmoth vanished around that same time,” Nooroo said. “Your father had no one to save anymore.”

“No!” Adrien swore under his breath, turning away. This was too much. His mom had still been alive all those years. In a coma but still alive. His father fought them all that time to save her? Was it even possible? Ladybug explained the whole “ultimate wish” to him once, and if Adrien remembered correctly it was more of an ‘equal exchange’ deal than a wish. Was his father aware? He must have been. He had that book on miraculouses. Was he then ready to sacrifice another life for Mom? Someone just as dear to him?

Nathalie?

Or him?

His head spun, stomach violently churning. He leaned against the wall. Neither of those choices made it right. Mom would’ve never wanted that. She’d hate him for doing so. Heck! She’d snatch those miraculouses off him and reverse the wish! Adrien could see it even now. Fierce, always ready to defend justice, and immeasurably kind. His mother was his role model. And as much as Adrien would love to see her again, he knew she’d never let someone else die for her sake. Father should’ve known it as well. How could he claim to have loved her if he was ready to violate something so fundamental to her beliefs? And at a price she’d never agreed to pay?

“Adrien?” Plagg appeared in front of his face, looking rather distressed himself.

Adrien raised his watering eyes to his kwami. “He was a monster,” he whispered. “He was insane. I need… I need to go. Plagg, claws out!

A bright flash of green and Chat Noir sprinted across Paris, not bothering to choose a direction. He just ran. Ran until he collapsed from exhaustion on a random roof, unable to contain his tears anymore.

Next >

[obutsuwrites]

confectionery kisses (fat gum x reader)

summary: “I know you’re enjoyin’ me, but -- uh -- can I kiss ya?” The alcohol hit him fully now; the hero too enumerated to be bashful. Steamie looked up and was greeted by lemon color eyes that held utter kindness. xxx lord forgive me bc this is so wholesome it killed me!!! but basically, bakery!au ft. meet-cute w/ drunken kissing shenanigans~! (well it's 1 kiss ok but it is what it is) 

author note: i’m considering a part 2 that picks up where this leaves off, but w smut. if that’s sumthin anyone would b interested in, pls lmk~!

reader is nonbinary/afab!

word count: 2,130

my ao3 for more shitposts~!

my ko-fi~!

my inbox is open 4 requests :3c

Focused, flour caked hands kneaded the dough before them. The young baker too engrossed by the magic of dough to notice a soft chime sound through the shop. Customers weren’t uncommon for them. Steamie’s Bakery was a word-of-mouth local treasure. A bewitching pastry shop that had the best donuts, honest. Steamie -- as they prefer -- adored their neighbors praises. Steady streams of patrons in a ‘hot spot’ for criminal activity wasn’t exactly the best business decision. However, this run-down homestyle bakery -- and it’s holes -- were theirs. 

Steamie hummed as they worked. Their mind was stuck within sugary confectionery. 

“Hey… y’all open?” This man’s voice was gruff and carefree. A smile wrapped in his syllables. 

Fat Gum stood within the tiny bakery. His form dwarfed the modest space; the edge of his hood scrapped against the ceiling as he waited for a response. The BMI Hero was surprised his lumbering footsteps hadn’t alerted the owner. Was it possible he had misread the sign? Work had drained him recently. Fat Gum had practically dragged himself to Steamie’s Bakery. Locals babbled constantly about the place, and he desired a quiet bite after hours. The quant business was one of the only eateries open at such an hour. 

The abrupt sound whipped the enamored baker from their task. Warm eyes glanced up, irises bright and alive despite the time. “Hi. Yes! Yes, we are. I’m Steamie.” Their eyes met the giant man who stood awkwardly in front of a display. He looked so out of place, the man’s body bulbous and impossibly large. Steamie guessed by the man’s rather campy mask that he was an off-duty hero. A species of hero not seen often around their street. The area deemed too dangerous for such leisurely activity. 

Truth be told, Steamie didn’t care about heroes. Or villains. The tall baker instead hyper focused upon baking. A hobby that morphed into a job. However, a small voice inside Steamie wanted to impress the man. He seemed so friendly and looked so… cuddly. Like a sentient teddy bear. A man composed of pillows and kindness. 

Fat Gum furrowed his brows. The BMI Hero seemed to be in deep thought over exactly which eclair to buy. He had never seen so many flavors before. Strawberry, blueberry, cherry, watermelon. Every flavor sounded as delicious as the last. Pink tongue darted out between his lips and teeth. A sugar overload was tempting. Simple black coffee wouldn’t cure this sluggy fog. Besides, he had burned away precious fat today. It was a treat. 

“Steamie? Does your quirk help with your work?” Fat Gum asked, as he scanned the pastries. He noticed their designs now. Soft and lacy intricate artwork that intertwined on each eclair; each pattern unique and perfectly executed. Every baked good was a labor of love. 

A snort escaped Steamie; the sound high pitched and hearty. 

“I wish. No, I just emit a puff of steam. I’m basically a glorified dehumidifier.” Steamie brushed flour decorated hands against their apron. The young baker was keen to serve the hero. Hero culture wasn’t an interest of theirs, but the physical embodiment of a pillow was too enticing for the baker. They wondered what exactly their job was. ‘Due to his size… maybe rescue?’

It was now Fat Gum’s turn to laugh. Rumbly and soft. “I don’t do rescue. Say, uh, how much are these eclairs?” 

Rambling out loud was habitual for them. Their thoughts grew legs of their own and walked out into tangible space. They were immune to the embarrassment of it, instead accepting their odd trait.

Steamie slapped a dusty hand to their forehead. “I don’t have price tags..?” The sentence was in limbo between a question and an answer. They had rearranged the shop recently. Changing pastry stock required innovation. The elclairs before Fat Gum had been a stroke of late night genius. Birthed from the desire for a gooey center and intricate lace. A happy medium for the proud baker. 

The baker quickly stepped behind the counter, dust flew from their hands. Diligent hands eventually found a leftover tag and wrote down a price. Patrons caused Steamie to envelope themselves into baking. Most days, flour and powdered sugar felt impossible to wash off. Almost like a second skin; signs of their success. 

Steamie beckoned Fat Gum to the counter. The BMI Hero obliged; pep in his gait. 

“Here. Don’t go thinking you’re getting a discount!” Steamie’s laugh echoed in the bakery as they handed the hero price tags. Fat Gum could swear the baker’s body vibrated from the sound. “I’ve been busy lately. Cakes and pies don’t sell themselves.” 

The hero’s smile grew like marigolds; fast and vibrant. Steamie didn’t mind looking at this hero. His posture was proud, but hid something. A mystery Steamie couldn’t quite figure out. ‘Kinda interesting…’

“What’s  interesting?” Fat Gum asked, the giant of a man still enamored by pastries. 

“You know my quirk; what’s yours? It’s probably super interesting.” 

The hero’s face contorted into a mix of confusion and admiration. ‘Does she not know who I am?’ “My quirk is fat absorption. I don’t usually look like this!” A laugh erupted from the man. His notoriety meant everyone knew of his quirk. The banter was refreshing. Fat Gum enjoyed the naivety of the baker. 

Their conversation died down as Fat Gum perused baked goods. Steamie wandered back to their original post. They almost forgot the hero was in the shop. Heavy footsteps dissolved any fantasy of peace and quiet. Little moments of serenity were scarce, but nightfall brought the quiet Steamie craved. A meager smile etched into the corners of the baker’s mouth. They hummed as they worked; now fully absorbed in kneading dough. 

“Hey,” the hero’s gruff voice broke the silence between them, “hope it’s not too much trouble, but I’m ready to be rung up!” His words carried an airiness to them; like cotton candy. Steamie wondered if this was a natural state for Fat Gum. 

Steamie nodded, again wiping their hands on their apron. Dusty fingers worked at the register and completed the transaction between the two. 

Fat Gum stopped short of the door and turned to the baker still stationed at the counter. “What’s your name?” He asked with childish curiosity, as if Steamie’s name was a mystery. 

“Like I said, I’m Steamie,” they replied, eyeing the hero. It wasn’t uncommon for locals to ask what their real name was, but as far as Steamie cared, Steamie was their name. An abstract, genderless name that suited them. 

Fat Gum laughed, a hearty sound that echoed through the empty bakery. Steamie swore display cases shook. Almost reminiscent of thunder. “No, uh, your… Your real name, unless you prefer Steamie. It’s cute.” A tint of red dotted his cheeks, unable to hide the embarrassment that painted his face. He didn’t intend to tell the baker; the compliment had slipped past him. 

“Steamie is who I am. Is Fat Gum not who you are?” They chose to ignore the comment, it was muttered anyway, as if the hero was embarrassed. It was polite to not intimate customers. 

“Toyomitsu,” the hero said and pointed to his chest; a smile stretched across his face. 

“It was nice to meet you, Toyomitsu.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Fat Gum -- or Toyomitsu as he preferred -- was absent from the shop, until several weeks after their first meeting. 

It was closing time and Steamie was locking up. Despite their dingy location, the baker only carried two keys; one to lock up and the other to unlock their apartment. There were better things to steal than confectionery. 

“Long time no see, huh, Steamie?” 

The thunderous voice obviously belonged to Toyomitsu; unique and hearty. 

The baker flinched at the sudden noise and swiftly turned to the BMI Hero. His face was no longer taunt and long, but instead, squishy and soft. Chubby cheeks that were made for pinching and a soft, bulbous belly. The man before them sounded like Toyomitsu, but his hefty frame was the opposite of the hero Steamie met. 

“You’re… Toyomitsu, right?” Remembering names wasn’t one of Steamie’s strong suits. 

A light blush crept across Toyomitsu’s face, ending at the tips of his ears. “That’s me! Kinda surprised you remembered, it’s been awhile.” 

Steamie nodded and finished to lock the door, pocketing their key. 

“I was wondering,” Toyomitsu began, “if you wanted to get a bite. It’d be my treat!” The hero’s tone was excited, like a child asking for a sweet. ‘He’s so enduring like this… reminds me of a teddy bear.’ Steamie’s lips curled into a petite smile. A secret between friends. 

In truth, Toyomitsu wanted more than a dinner date, but any meaningful relationship is built on friendship. At least that’s the advice he offered to Red Riot. The pro hero wanted to kiss the baker and pinch their cheeks; all while cooing at them. 

“No thanks, I’m exhausted from today,” Steamie replied. They saw Toyomitsu’s wide grin falter and felt a pang in their chest. ‘His face is just too cute!’ “Actually, I don’t live far from here, and I have some left-over pastries. They don’t sell like my eclairs.” Anything Steamie baked was delicious, Toyomitsu decided. 

“Sure!” He eagerly replied. A grin encompassed his face as the couple walked towards the baker’s apartment. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The BMI hero sat across Steamie as the baker dove into another work related story. He adored the spark in their eyes, like tiny sprinkles decorating a vibrant treat. A treat he wanted to admire and cherish. Watching Steamie become animated while they talked caused Toyomitsu’s heart to quiver against his ribcage. 

Steamie -- to their credit -- truly opened up after several cups of wine; slurring and excited. Their thoughts were no longer accidental blurbs, but drunken fragments. 

“...an’ that’s why I don’ keep sugar an’ flour!” 

Toyomitsu nodded, tufts of blond feathered around his forehead. 

“Wanna touch your cheeks, can I?” The baker asked, their voice small and childlike. This was the first sentence that wasn’t a slurred mess, and yet, Toyomitsu still felt heat bloom in his cheeks. 

Gently, Toyomitsu brought their small hand -- that his own dwarfed -- against his cheek. The baker’s touch was warm, like fresh baked bread. Without realizing, the hero nuzzled into Steamie’s palm. 

‘So soft…’

“Yeah, you are.” The alcohol had made Toyomitsu brave, lion hearted and flustered. 

Pink sprinkled across Steamie’s face as they withdrew their hand and buried their face within their palms. “Sorry,” the baker slurred, “you… You look so ‘oft.” 

Toyomitsu chuckled at the mumbled apology. “S’ok, you’re cute.” 

Steamie let out a soft gasp, “Cute? Dunno ‘bout that! But I think your cheeks…” They weren’t accustomed to compliments, especially compliments from a teddy bear. ‘Wanna bury myself in his chest.’

“You can.” 

Steamie’s face was uncovered and ever red, the baker unable to justify hiding the inferno that burned into their cheeks. 

The baker devolved into a red and squealing mess; unable to form coherent sentences, like little pieces of creamy confectionery. The pro hero wondered what their plush lips felt like pressed up against his… They looked so small, so delicate. A treasure he wanted to covet. The hero’s large, calloused finger reached up and quickly swiped across the supple flesh. ‘Like a flower petal,’ Toyomitsu thought. 

The baker drifted into Toyomitsu’s lap; scorching and far too big for their frame. “Ya smell ‘ice,” Steamie mumbled and buried their face into the gigantic man’s chest. Fluffy and cozy, like a pillow. “Like a pillow!” Steamie couldn’t help the outburst. Toyomitsu wasn’t a man, but a plushie they wanted to bury themselves in. He was velvety and felt like home. The baker inhaled his scent, trying to memorize the floral notes of his laundry soap. Vanilla and honeysuckle. 

Toyomitsu petted their hair, running his fingers through long strands. Even their hair was soft. Steamie was a squishy marshmallow he wanted to keep. He wrapped an arm around their small body, hyper aware of their delicate structure. Warm hands began to rub Steamie’s back as they nuzzled against Toyomitsu’s sweatshirt. ‘Feels like a hug.’

“I know you’re enjoyin’ me, but -- uh -- can I kiss ya?” The alcohol hit him fully now; the hero too enumerated to be bashful. Steamie looked up and was greeted by lemon color eyes that held utter kindness. 

Their tongue refused to cooperate, the baker only able to produce a curt nod. Their face was a blazing wildfire, a vibrant array of pinks and rogues. 

Slowly, Toyomitsu pressed his chapped lips against the baker’s mouth. The kiss was slow and sloppy, neither party capable of coordinated motion. Toyomitsu brushed his tongue along their lips and tasted sugar. His mind was clouded with lewd thoughts of the baker as he finally broke the kiss; greedy lungs heaving -- desperate for air. 

“Ya taste good, wonder what this tastes like,” the pro hero pondered. His hand gently palming between their thighs.

[yandere-society]

Day 10 | Home For Christmas

Synopsis: The two new hot guys next door are super friendly and very helpful! Especially since you’ve injured your leg and now are forced to prance around in your wheelchair. They came over to your house, put up decorations, helped you bake and kept you company when you couldn’t be home for Christmas. Although now that you think about it, they’re a little too friendly…to the point you can’t tell them no.

The 12 Days of Black Christmas Event Masterlist

Pairing: Namhope x Female Reader

Admin: @roses-ruby​​

Trigger warnings: Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior, Murder, Physical abuse, kidnapping 

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

🎶You can plan on me

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents on the tree🎶

“Oop, let me get that for you-”

Your outstretched hand stops midair, head turning to face the tall dimpled man on your left. He smiled at you fondly and you felt your cheeks warming.

“Thank you.” You say, pushing yourself back to make room for his long legs. Namjoon shifts, taking the red ornament out of your hand, and placing it on a high branch. You watch silently as he tinkers with the small toy stockings, humming along to Crosby’s I’ll be home for Christmas which continually rung throughout the house from your mom’s old record player on the back shelf. Suddenly, he makes eye contact with you again, his eyes turning into little crescents as his mouth stretches, leaving you blushing and turning away. It wasn’t something you could help.

Since the first time you laid eyes on him, you’ve always thought he was so freaking hot. Speaking of hotties-

“Alright, the pie is done!” A shout comes from behind you, making you turn your head as the wheels of your chair rotate back. A man with a heart-shaped smile and eyes brighter than the sun steps out of the kitchen in his pink frilly apron, setting down the holiday pie on the table directly in front. One whiff of the sweet desert has your mouth watering in delight.

“It smells delicious, Hoseok! You both are so kind…thank you for everything.”

Said man laughs, the melodious sound echoing the walls along with the music, “Nonsense, we’re always here to help.”

“Exactly, that’s what neighbors are for.” Namjoon chirped, walking over to where Hoseok stood. He took a glance at the pie and then poked the top, immediately being reprimanded by Hoseok’s oven mitt hand.

“Don’t do that, you’ll ruin it.”

Namjoon retracts his hand, resembling a kicked puppy, “I just thought it looked cool. You don’t have to be so mean.”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be if you didn’t just drop the eggnog on yourself this morning, while standing completely still.”

“Hey! That was an accident!”

You gaze in confusion as the men began to argue, an amused sigh leaving your lips.

Namjoon and Hoseok were the two sexy guys from next door, helping you around the house while you sat there helpless with a broken leg, as well as your lovely new best friends. They had moved into the apartment next door back in July, before the start of the fall semester. It was a breath of fresh air honestly, as your last neighbor was a cranky old lady with way too many mean cats. You weren’t sure what happened to her, but you weren’t complaining once you ran into Joon in the hallway as he carried large boxes into his apartment.

His muscles ripped through his loose grey tank top and his arm flexed while he lugged the heavy load. He was tall, jacked, smart, kind and very dorky. You almost fell in love at first sight. Then there was his sun in human form roommate, Hoseok. Now, Hoseok may not have been as giant or as muscular as Namjoon, but his bright personality, social nature and lethal moves did not lose to anyone. Millions of women would become wet in a matter of seconds from the way he twisted his hips. Millions more at Namjoon’s deep honey voice.

You were blessed to have such hotties living next door.

Because of their approachable nature, they befriended you very quickly. It went from small talks in the hallway to long conversations as you rested on your couch. From shy glances here and there a few times a week to seeing one another daily. They had practically moved in. Their shoes were always in your house, you had bought them their own pair of toothbrushes for your bathroom and they even had a small section of their clothes in your closet. You all even started heading to classes together.

Of course, you had lusted for them in the beginning. Sometime their gazes were intense, and it seemed like they were eye-fucking you. Other times they seemed to get very jealous if you had anyone else in your apartment or if you went anywhere without telling them. But you knew it was all in your imagination. It’s not their fault if they just couldn’t help but ooze sex appeal which made you imagine the two hot guys next door – your best friends – being obsessed with you. As of now you were fine with the wonderful friendship you were able to build with them. Better off as friends as they say.

You had been quite lonely when you moved into the big city, away from your family who you were always close to. Your dad had warned you about the many dangers of the city so you made sure to stay safe and away from those who could wish you harm. Joon and Hoseok were the first people that made you open yourself up and for that you were grateful. It was very fun to spend your days being tutored by Namjoon or laughing at Hoseok. Though you still longed for your family when the holiday season arrived. Sadly, as you were making plans to visit home, someone had decided to push you down the University’s stairs which resulted in a horribly broken leg bone and a laggy wheelchair.

No one saw who did it.

Unable to fly, you were stuck in your small apartment for all of the festive season. The first night you had cried a lot on the phone with your mother, but your amazing best friends had barged in and promised to make this the best Christmas you’ve ever had right here in the apartment. They were so serious about it, they hadn’t let you leave the place even for a bit. Decorations, entertainment, food, they had it all planned out and thanks to them, you were able to have one of the merriest Christmas eve’s of your life.

🎶Christmas Eve will find me

Where the love light gleams🎶

The music from the record player wakes you from your daze, your eyes once again concentrating on the two bickering men in front of the dinner table.

With a smile, you turn back around to the pine tree, to see it filled with many kinds of decorations and ornaments. Yet it was still missing something. A small pout forms on your lips as you recall the weeping phone conversation you had with your mother. You had told her to send your favorite ornament – a small marbled turtle dove, over to your place so you had something from home you could cherish this year. It was a keepsake from your childhood and had many memories attached to it. Tomorrow was Christmas and you wondered why it hadn’t arrived already.

Maybe the front desk has it?

It wasn’t like you could call them, phone reception in your apartment had been getting worse and worse for some reason. With a sigh, you rotate back around to see Namjoon and Hoseok arguing about the dinner plates. If you use the elevator, you could rush downstairs, inquire about any packages and rush back upstairs without either of them noticing,

Nodding to yourself, you wheel your chair to the front door. You quietly pull open the door as Joon and Hobi’s voices and I’ll be home for Christmas continue to surround the background. With a few swift moves, you were in the hallway, heading for the elevator.

For some reason you felt uneasy. The same feeling you got before you were pushed down the stairs. You stopped in front of the lift, pressing the button and waiting anxiously for its arrival. The door of the elevator opened quickly to your relief and as soon as you were about to roll in-

-a deafening scream of your name pierces through the quiet hallway and startles you.

Immediately you were being pulled away from the elevator, pushed back into the hallway you came from and shoved inside your apartment as the door banged shut behind you. It was deathly lull, all you could hear was your heavy breathing even though you hadn’t moved an inch and the old Christmas song still repeating. Slowly you turn around to face the entrance and were met by the raging scowls of Namjoon and Hoseok.

A chill runs down your spine at the fury in their eyes.

“W-w-wha-”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Hoseok growls, and you gasp at the venom in his tone. This was not the cheerful, loving Hoseok you knew.

“Seriously ___,” Namjoon groans, voice slightly tamer than Hoseok’s, “How could you leave the second we weren’t looking?”

“N-no I-”

“This is your fault.” Joon spits at Hoseok “I told you to break both of her legs so she couldn’t move at all.”

Your jaw hangs open.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I kill the old lady, I push ___ down the stairs, I set up that complicated ass box that blocks the cell signals and what do YOU do exactly?’

All the information was speeding around your brain and you could feel yourself choking up. Did he just say kill?

“You’re the one who wanted to do all that! Always fucking criticizing me for being clumsy and shit- fuck, I plan, YOU execute, remember?”

As they begin to argue once again, you start shaking in your seat. Murderers. Not only did you befriend the people who were responsible for your broken leg, but you had let actual murderers into your home. Suddenly everything started to make sense. Your neighbor lady suddenly disappearing. You always running into them whether in your complex, university or even the store. In fact, you always felt they were a bit too pushy with their help, but you didn’t want to be mean. The over-friendly skin ship and how they constantly made you feel guilty until you blocked all the other people from your life. How they pushed themselves and their belongings into your apartment.

How they made your home their home.

Holy shit…shitshitshit what were you going to do now? Who could you call? Where would you go with this broken leg? How would you escape? They could do whatever they want to you and they knew it.

“-__?...___!” The sound of your name jolts you. Hoseok sits on his knees, eye level with you as Joon sits beside him, equally concerned. “___, are you alright?”

This…this was the Hoseok and Namjoon you know. The ones who infiltrated your life with their handsome faces and kind personalities. When you don’t answer him, he cups your face causing you to stiffen.

“Hey don’t worry. I know we argued a lot, but it’s fine now. Since you’re here…since we have you…just don’t leave us again.” He states gently, tilting his head to the side like an insane person. “Instead, why don’t we go eat that pie, hmm?”

You could feel your pupils shaking as you look into his bottomless orbs. Though you were in your own home, you have never been more afraid.

“He’s right you know.”

You turn to Namjoon beside him who places his hand above your limp one. The very first tear drops out of your socket as you find him smiling. How you wish you could have found the sinister reality of his dimpled smile those thousand times he’s shown it to you before.

“We have you and you have us. So, if you leave us like that again, we’ll be very upset…we may lose our temper and who knows what we would do…just…You should stay home for Christmas, alright?”

And as soon as he says that the stupid never-ending song repeats its end once more.

🎶I'll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams🎶

[lesbian-deadpool]

HOW DO I HANUKKAH?! (Part 2)

Stark’s Christmas Party and The Hanukkah Getaway.

Natasha Romanoff X reader

Modern AU

Words: 1,162

Warnings: Hurt animal, fire? maybe.

Request: Nope.

Summary: You have to spend the weekend with your idiot friends, after Starks party. Luckily you love them, and your girlfriends there to help you through it.

A/N: It’s finally here! Sorry, it’s a lil behind. I had no clue what to do for this. So, here. Have this mess. Hope you, at least somewhat, like it!

(Not My GIF)

***

A bad as you first expected Starks annual Christmas party to be. It was quite enjoyable, really.

Right now, you were looking for Natasha, who had stepped away for a breath of fresh air. Spotting her standing on the balcony, with her arms hanging over the railing, you pushed open the door.

“Hey, pretty lady.”

“Hey, yourself,” Natasha smirked over her shoulder.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked as you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her so that her back was connected to your front.

“Just looking for my beautiful girlfriend.”

“Hmm? Sorry, I haven’t seen her.”

“Really are you sure?” you prompted Natasha. Who only gave you a nod of confirmation in return. “Well, if you spot her, you won’t be able to miss her... she’s beautiful, inside and out. Got stunning, sort red hair. Almost like its pure love growing from her. A husky voice, that sounds better than any music, that has- Or will ever be played. Eyes greener than grass in the summer, they sparkle just like the sun shines off of snowflakes.”

Natasha turned around to wrap her arms around your neck, watching you intently as you continued, “She’s got a body to absolutely die for. But still, to this day, I have never seen her look better than when she wears one of my hoodies, that go down to her mid-thigh. Lucious, full lips, that tell me they love me, with every chance they get-”

If Natasha hadn’t cut you off, you could have continued for hours. Just describing Natasha, telling her how much you love her.

“Do you really think that much of me?” Natasha asked in a small voice. Hardly believing that anyone, let alone you, think of her so highly.

“I do. That and so much more. I could go on forever.”

At this, tears began welling up in her eyes. She moved to lean her head back so that her mascara wouldn’t run.

“Oh, no, baby. Did I say something wrong?” you rushed out.

“No.” She shook her head with a sniffle. Turning to look back at you, the tears subsiding, as she wiped underneath her eyes. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I just love you. So much.”

“I love you so much, too, baby.”

Natasha smiled that beautiful smile at you. Kissing you once on the lips, before, before you both made your way back to the still booming office party.

***

Not even a week later, you were staying at a lodge in the middle of nowhere, along with your friends, to celebrate Hanukkah for the long weekend.

You should be relaxing, eating some delicious food. Or spending some time with your girlfriend. But no! Here you were, chasing your friend around the lodge, frost coated grass crunching underfoot, as you did.

“God damn, he’s a fast fucker,” you panted, holding onto your bent knees, as you sucked in deep breaths.

“Why are you chasing Pietro, now?” Looking over your shoulder, you saw Natasha walking your way.

“No reason.”

“Aha, I’m sure gonna believe that.”

Hoping to distract her by changing the topic, you asked, “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“I came to get you,” she said, wrapping her arms around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your lips, “There’s been a blizzard warning, it’s supposed to hit within the next couple days.”

“So you came out to get me now?” you asked, raising your eyebrow at the woman.

Natasha nodded her head, giving you a few more kisses, “And dinners almost ready.”

You hummed. “I think there are more reasons than that.”

“What? Can’t I miss my girlfriend?”

“Of course you can,” you cooed, leaning in to give her a long kiss. That is before:

“Hey, losers! Food’s ready!” Pietro called.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“I’ll help.”

***

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah, Steve? What’s up?” you asked looking up from the book you were reading. Noting that he was clad in his winter clothing, still covered in flakes of snow.

“Have you seen Natasha?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven't seen her since this morning. Maybe Wanda knows where she is.”

“No,” he told you, “I mean, have you seen Natasha?”

“What is she doing?”

Steve nodded behind him, towards the open bedroom door, wanting you to follow him, “Come on, I’ll show you.”

You followed Steve throughout the homely, snow-capped lodge, wondering what Natasha could be doing, for Steve to come to fetch you. You were stood in the living room doorway when you saw exactly what Steve was talking about.

Huddled around the coffee table were Carol and Wanda, watching something intently, as Bucky packed up the first aid kit. And lastly, your beautiful, red-headed girlfriend, petting a slow blinking dove, with a bandaged wing, on its small head.

“What the fuck?” you ashed the room, drawing everyone's attention to yourself.

“We saved a bird, baby,” Natasha beamed at you.

“Yeah, I see that.” You took a step closer to the scene. “I thought you were scared of birds?”

“Not when they need help, I’m not.”

“You are amazing.” You smiled at her. “But, how? I mean it’s almost blizzarding out there.”

“We heard it calling for help, so we sent Steve out to get it,” Wanda explained.

“Right... so, I guess we’re taking care of a bird then.”

“Got the box!” Pietro announced, jogging into the room, with a shoebox in hand.

“Hey, maybe we should call it ‘Nike’?” Steve suggested beside you.

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. “Like the Greek Goddess?”

“No. Like the shoes.” He pointed at the brand covering the box the dove was now settled in.

“My way is so much cooler.”

***

“I know not of what we’re doing, or why we’re doing it. All I do know is that we’re gonna set a candle on fire!” you said walking up to the small crowd, that is your friends, surrounding the menorah.

“Well, there is a story behind it,” Wanda said, “But pretty much, yeah.”

“Y/N, we told you the story. Remember?” Natasha asked.

“Oh! The oil story.”

“There you go. Your so smart,” Pietro sassed you.

Pointing at the lit menorah, never once taking your eyes off of the man in front of you, “Those are some brave words, from a man in flam distance.”

“Okay, you are not allowed to go within three feet of the menorah, ever again,” Natasha told you, as she pushed you away from the candles.

“Awww!”

***

Later that night, you watched as Natasha undressed and changed into her sleep clothes (A pair of short shorts, that should be classed as underwear more than shorts. And an oversized, graphic t-shirt that she stole from you).

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna do the dance with no pants?” You smirked at her.

“... why am I with you?”

“So, is that a... n-?”

“Yes. That’s a yes. Take your pants off,” Natasha ordered, before straddling your laughing body.

[kpopisamood]

Queen’s Clan { 17 }

Summary: y/n is plagued by nightmares. She realizes that the more she runs away, the less frequently they haunt her. However, in running away, she’s also running straight into her ultimate demise. Will she be saved in time by those who would lay down their lives for her, even if they don’t know of each other’s existence?

Monsta X/Reader, Human/Vampire(s), Reverse Harem

Warnings: mentions of period sex (READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!)

Word count: 2.49k

Tag list: @noonaduck @lovinggalaxies @elenaramos1 @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @snowythellama @stargazersara @luvthatleader-nim @jooheonbee @vincent-stargogh @perrshian @kurochan3 @imbxckytrash @joonsgotthejuice @mymymywonderland @2ka-tja2 @qween-of-trash

***

You felt like literal death. Mother Nature had decided to come early and grant you the gift of...well, lack of the gift of a child. In your mind, you were laughing at your former self. You’d been kind of snippy and a bit emotional that last couple of days and waking up this morning in a pool of your own goo confirmed you weren’t some whiny bitch. You cringed when you remembered the moment you teared up when Jooheon had offered his last taco at dinner when he saw you eyeing it. Or when you’d thrown a remote at Shownu just for simply walking in front of the television to get to the kitchen. Looking back, you’d realized you owed the boys some sort of form of an apology and you were mentally preparing yourself for what might happen.

If you survived this week from impossible cravings and gut-clenching cramps first.

You hadn’t left your room since you started this cycle, save for sanitary changes and stocking up on food, and the boys were getting a bit restless.

Who knew vampires and periods didn’t mesh well?

Just knowing you were ovulating was enough to make them extra possessive and touchy with you but you could only imagine the hold you’d have now. You couldn’t help but have a slight, morbid curiosity about what they thought of this certain situation.

***

“If she doesn’t come out, I’m breaking that door down.” Wonho muttered, laying on his folded arms while sitting at the table, restlessly clicking his fingers against the wooden fixture.

“If you break down that door, she’ll throw a remote at you next.” Shownu shot back, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he remembered you nearly decking him. You were very independent, and you certainly stood up for yourself. But to see you ready to kill him over something so trivial was a bit...cute, albeit slightly arousing.

“Oh, dammit! She took all the Hot Cheetos again!” Changkyun complained, grabbing another small snack to munch on as he joined the others.

They’d been discussing you and how to help you with your...predicament. They all knew you were in some sort of pain and they were all desperate to comfort you in any way, shape, or form. Anything to not have you shut them out like you were. Anything to get the chance to be around you.

“What if we take her for a walk?” Minhyuk opted, looking around the group.

“You wanna try getting her out of her room?” Jooheon asked, folding his arms and leaning against a wall.

“Well, shit. How are we supposed to help her?” Wonho pouted again, tapping his fingers in a pattern.

“I heard orgasms help with cramps.” Changkyun stated.

Everyone stopped and stared at the younger man. They kept looking from him to the direction you were in while curiously thinking over this option.

“This isn’t a ploy to get into her pants again, is it?” Jooheon warned, eyes already turning a deep black at the possibilities this could bring up.

“Well, obviously, yes. But I’ve heard it really does help.” Changkyun replied.

Interesting, they all thought.

***

The skin-slapping and the shameful, yet arousing squelching noises filled your room. The air was thick and humid from how long you’ve been taking their ministrations and you groaned in frustration when he edged you again, not quite letting you take that leap of faith, but not leaving you completely helpless.

“Fuck you, Wonho.” You sighed, trying to pull away, only to be further held down by Shownu. Wonho has you pinned under him, arms curled around your thighs, not letting you leave his sinful mouth while Shownu held onto your arms and delivered slight smacks to your breasts to keep you on edge. Every time you thought he was finally going to let you come, he’d pull away and smirk at you and each time you were about to let him have an earful, he’d go back to his merciless attack against your clit, nipping and suckling at the tender button effectively silencing any and all complaints. Shownu’s chest was at your back, and he held you in place to take whatever Wonho gave you. Your legs were parted over his much stronger ones and each time you tried to close them, he’d pull them even further apart and try to get you to relax while Wonho drank from you like a starved man.

“That can be arranged, Y/N.” Jooheon’s voice sounded to your right. The others were also in the room, watching eagerly as the two gave you this delicious torture. You don’t know how exactly this came about, but frankly, you didn’t care.

A familiar knot appeared in your belly once again. This time, you were going to get what you wanted. Even if you had to trick them. Maybe you could pretend you still had a ways to go and then just come unexpectedly.

But Wonho saw right through your plan and pulled away with a pop and smirked up at you again.

“Son of a bitch!” You complained, throwing an arm over your face in exasperation.

“Y/N, look at him this time. Don’t turn away.” Minhyuk suggested, watching the sight lazily and smiling to himself.

You took his advice and looked down at Wonho, this time, seeing his chin and mouth covered in a sticky, red tint, licking slowly around the edges of his lips to get more of the red liquid into his system. The image alone should have disgusted you, but it fueled your arousal that much more.

Just as he dove back in to feast more on you, you felt Shownu’s teeth pierce your skin while he growled and held you closer, one of his hands coming up to hold your neck, slightly applying pressure to your throat and making your vision thin in and out. You could feel yourself shaking and the explosion finally came upon you while—

You woke with a start, clutching the sheets surrounding you. You slowly sat up and surveyed your surroundings, checking to make sure you were truly alone and not experiencing what happened in your dream. Or was it a nightmare?

You honestly couldn’t believe what you saw. You had let Wonho go down on you during your...cycle?! You were outright ashamed with the thought but somewhat curious. Sure, during this time, one could be susceptible to hormonal changes and maybe even be a bit horny. But to actually go through with an act like that? Letting someone see you and be in you so intimately during a time where you were so vulnerable was shocking. In society’s eyes, periods were a repugnant event that were overly taxed for capitalistic advancements. Period sex may be for those more open-minded couples that were comfortable with one another, but to you, it’s something you can’t exactly wrap your head around.

This was just a dream. It didn’t happen, and probably never will. So why did you ache?

A knock at your door brought you out of your stupor and you bunched the sheets up closer to your chest as you told the person to come in.

The man who was going down on you in your dream came in and took a seat on the edge of your bed and you wanted to die. Remembering the things he did. Seeing him enjoy it and gain pleasure from edging you and tasting your—

“Would you like assistance with your cycle, my Queen?” He asked, smiling at you as if he had asked you about the weather.

You wanted to bury yourself under the covers and never come out to see the light of day again. You could pull it off. Perhaps call the other Queens so you wouldn’t completely go crazy. Order food and have the delivery person come straight to your room and slide it under the door like a prisoner. Avoid the boys altogether until you wasted away.

“I-uh, what?” You mumbled against the sheets, slowly covering your flushed face.

“Y/N, we can all smell you from a mile away. Also, you’re not the quietest when you’re having a wet dream.” He chuckled, brushing a few stray hairs out of your face.

Jesus, take the wheel.

You swear you could have passed out right then and there from shock were it not for Wonho smiling at you comfortingly.

“Being what we are, we’re completely comfortable with menstruation and would like to help in any way you’d like us to. Be it massage, snack runs...intimacy.” He suggested.

“I can’t. It’s not exactly sanitary—“ he cut you off.

“We figured you wouldn’t be as comfortable as we are with this, but there are other ways to help you without you letting us see you so, how would humans say it, messy? Although, there’s absolutely nothing unsanitary about this.”

Jesus, crash the car.

“Keep in mind, we’d be honored to ease your pain and give you pleasure, but we will not force anything on you. We sensed your unease and wanted to help...aid you, if we could.”

You’ll admit, what he was suggesting could possibly help your pain. It wasn’t exactly bad pain, but it wasn’t good. You’ve had worse cramps before, it’s just absolutely incessant. When you think you’ve finally felt the last of the nausea and dull throbbing, another wave hits and picks up where it left off.

“If I say yes, what would we do?” You ask timidly, trying not to look him in the eye.

He smiled softly and laced his fingers through yours, tugging down the sheets softly. “Just simple petting, perhaps grinding. If you wanted more, we could give you more—“

“No, no! I mean, if we do this, it won’t be weird?” You asked.

“What’s so weird about something so natural? If you think it offends anyone here, excuse my informality, but you’re mistaken. If anything, it offends us that we can’t help you. It makes us feel like we’re not doing our job and that you don’t need or want us.” He finished off, staring at you intensely.

You really didn’t know what to say to that but you nodded along. “Clothes stay on.” You ordered.

Wonho smirked at you and leaned in, just a breath away from your lips. “My clothes or yours, my Queen?” He whispered huskily before nipping at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp out before throwing your arms around his neck and taking his lips once more.

He groaned against you and leaned in, pushing you up against your headboard. You moaned against him and he stealthily let his tongue slip past your lips, exploring your mouth. He slid his hand down your arm, clutching your hand. His other free hand explored more cautiously, lightly brushing at intimate areas but not resting completely against them so as to not make you uneasy.

You could faintly hear your door opening and shutting before hearing another set of footsteps join you and felt the bed dip on your left.

“My turn.” Jooheon whispered, softly pulling you away from Wonho’s kiss and straight into his. He was a bit more rough, dominating the kiss completely and making you melt under his skillful tongue. You felt Wonho scoot up closer, spreading your legs and kneeling in between them with his powerful thighs. When you tried to turn your attention to him to see what he was doing, Jooheon greedily pulled you back to his lips. You moaned against him when you felt Wonho gently glide his hands up and down your legs. You were wearing shorts and each sweep he made, had them bunch up before he brushed them neatly back into place.

“What do you want me to do, Y/N?” Wonho asked, stopping completely. Jooheon released your lips, hand still grasping your chin as he turned your head to focus on Wonho.

You hesitated as you tried regaining your breath and whispered, “Please help me come. But don’t go under my clothes.”

“Yes, my Queen.” Wonho smiles before swiftly flipping you onto your hands and knees. The swift action caused you to yelp out before you found your bearings and by then, it was too late.

Wonho leaned against your back, not putting his full weight as he rubbed and massaged your shoulders. He slowly made his way down to your behind, to the back of your thighs, before coming around to rub against your stomach and slowly, oh, so slowly, go down to cup your center.

Heat pooled where he finally touched and you grit your teeth, trying to not make a sound.

“My Queen, I’d love to hear the sounds you make from being pleasured.” Jooheon smiles innocently at you. “Be as loud as you please. We’ll take care of you.” You were about to tell him to stick that comment where the sun doesn’t shine when you felt Wonho push against your clothed pussy, making you gasp and almost fall face first to the bed. Jooheon caught you and cooed at your reaction, absolutely loving every sound you let escape your lips.

Wonho wasn’t satisfied, though. He needed more. He skillfully pushed one digit against your tender clit and swirled it around slowly, grinning when he heard you pant his name. You were completely left to his mercy and your toes curled at the thought of him being so in control of you.

“F-fuck!” You shouted as he pushed a bit harder, making you grind against his hand to get more.

“That’s it, Y/N. Just let it go. We’ve got you.” Jooheon whispered against your neck, lightly suckling at three skin and whispering words of encouragement. “May I have a taste, my Queen?” He asked.

Without hesitation, you consented. The moment he bit down, you saw stars. Wonho helped you come down slowly from your high. He wasn’t edging you like he did in your dream, and you were grateful. The light aftershocks and pulsing of your inner walls made you sigh in relief. The pain had subsided significantly and you were finally somewhat comfortable in your own skin again.

When you finally get yourself together, you heard another knock on your door. This time, Shownu and Minhyuk came in.

“You didn’t think they’d be the only ones pleasing you tonight, did you, my Queen?” Minhyuk teased before taking Wonho’s place.

This was about to be a long night.

Please do NOT repost! All rights reserved!

[sarahhamilton]

Lifesaver - Part 1

The wind blew in Rebecca’s frizzy, amber hair like water rolling down a freshwater stream. The sun reflected on the ocean’s horizon, setting a path for fishing boats to take off to sea. Rebecca started the first few things in her routine. A run, meeting the other lifeguards for their morning instruction, and setting out beach chairs for the foreseeable vacationing families.

The rest of the day, she is blowing her whistle at little kids to stop fighting in the water, placing bandaids on their scabs after the fight, and then politely asking the parents to control their hooligans.

A distant voice crashed in the waves on her run. A vision of a young man’s head bobbed in and out of the water. He was the only one there.

To the nearest lifeguard station was a rescue tube. Placing the tube under Rebecca’s arm, she dove headfirst into the sandy water. The waves crashed over her slender body like two forces colliding. Catching his wrist, her fingers wrapped around him like a python ready to kill the next victim. Pulling the six-foot guy above the waves, she wrapped his broad body on the tube.

Safely on shore, his bare chest moved up and down. Relieved, but his eyes were shut. Shaking the guy like a cocktail, he opened his red distressed eyes.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca leaned over his peculiar birthmark, painted above his collarbone.

Coughing up what seemed like a pint of water, he mumbled, “Yeah.” He released the rest of the salty water, swallowed by his lungs. “I think... Thanks for saving me. That current is crazy this morning.”

Rebecca’s shy, small voice developed into a bear’s growl. “I’m glad I was there. There was no one else around to hear you.” She said, wiping her freckled face from the water that dripped down the sides of her sunburnt skin. “You can’t swim in the ocean without a lifeguard. There are signs everywhere. Did you not see them?”

“I had no idea it was this bad.” The guy studied Rebecca’s face like it was a Victoria’s Secret magazine. “You look familiar.”

“Im Rebecca, pretty sure we had a class together last semester.”

“I’m Ted. I’ve seen you before… Where have I seen you?”

Grabbing Ted’s arm, she lifted him from the ground. Can he not hear?

“I go to Keiser University. We had a class together last semester.” Rebecca said.

Ted thought for what seemed like too long of a minute. “Oh, right! You sat behind me... How can I repay you? I mean, you did just save my life. Can I get you a drink? Cash?”

Rebecca shook her head in disbelief. Cash? Is this guy crazy? Does he think he can use daddy’s money to buy his way out of everything?

“This is my job. So I’m happy to help, you don’t need to repay me.. Especially cash… well, if you’re alright, I’m going to meet my coworkers.”

***

“Sorry guys, I just had to save someone this morning. Do people really not see all the signs around?” Rebecca said, closing the circle of lifeguards.

“Oh, we saw you, Rebecca. You saved THE Ted Rudolph… lucky,” Lucy said with a smirk. “Did you give him mouth to mouth?”

“Uh… no. Not lucky. He could have died.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, looking back at the leader.

“Thank you, Rebecca. I’m glad to have you on the team. What happened? Does he need any more help? Ambulance?”

“He was getting pulled out from the current, but he seems to be okay.”

“Good.” The leader looked at the eight lifeguards and said, “Everyone should know, if you save a life you get the remaining day off. Recuperate and take it easy. We will see you Tuesday, Rebecca.”

***

Rebecca looked toward the houses lined down the beach. Compared to the mansions on the other sides of her home, her small, but normal blue house stood on wooden slabs. Jogging up the old steps, she swung open the creaking wooden door. Aroma of rosemary and lemon circled around the kitchen from her nightly cleaning fiasco. Now what?

Rebecca picked up her phone to call her mom. “I’ll be there in ten mins.”

She got in her silver dented sedan and turned on the ignition. The flashing light came on again. “I’ll fix it later,” her everlasting voice said.

Mornings at Pressley’s Seafood Cafe were typically slow. A restaurant that serves seafood for breakfast isn’t the most appetizing. Fish and waffles, cornbread pancakes with oyster sauce, and avocado toast and sardines.

The third red leather booth that lined down the cream walls was her favorite spot to sit. Not too close to the restrooms, not too close to the payment counter, and next to the salad bar. She looked at the six-sided menu like she’s never seen it before. Eyebrows up, eyes wide, and top lip raised told you her take on the food. She slid the menu to the very end of the table.

“Hey mom, can I just have a cup of coffee? No breakfast for me. How are the new items coming together?”

Her petite frame leaned into the table and said, “I didn’t think anyone would like these things… look around. There’s three tables being taken right now. People are trying the new items and are loving it.” Rebecca’s mom said.

Looking over her shoulder, Rebecca wanted to see the type of people to order such weird things. An older couple sitting in the first booth drinking cups of black coffee. Typical. A mom wrangling her three kids sat by the windows in the far back of the restaurant. Typical. Two guys sat across from the bathrooms. Why on earth would anyone want to sit by the bathrooms? She stared at the guys longer than the others. Looking at one of the guy’s hair, a familiar dirty blonde, muscular build, reminded her of Ted. She wasn’t sure.

Waiting for her coffee, she smelt the delicious, dark roast coffee beans brewing in the kitchen. She looked back toward the guys again as they were sliding out of their seats. Yep. Thats Ted. What’s he doing here? He certainly couldn’t be eating biscuits and crab gravy. Slouching in her seat, she turned her head towards the wall lined with sea bass competition portraits.

“Rebecca?” Ted said, leaning in to get a better picture of her. “Haven’t you had enough of me already?” He said with a smirk.

Rebecca giggled, “I’m here visiting my mom. I got the day off from saving you.” Rebecca said, shifting in her seat. Her cheeks turned a cardinal red. “What did you end up getting?”

“I got the biscuits and crab gravy. As weird as it sounds, it’s pretty good. Eggs, crab, sausage smothered on a biscuit goes well together.”

Ted’s friend chimed in, “Yo, the sardine avocado toast is gnarly too. You should try that.”

“Maybe,” Rebecca replied, looking for her mom across the front booths.

Ted hesitated, “Well… hey, I know you said I don’t need to repay you, but why don’t I take you to dinner tonight? You know, you saved me and all. It’s the least I could do.”

“I’m not sure. It’s my job,” Rebecca stopped mid-sentence to her mom coming in with a steaming hot cup of coffee. “Oh, hey mom.” Relief.

“Thanks so much for breakfast. I wanted to hand you this instead of leaving it on the table. This was one of the best breakfasts I’ve had in a long time. And I think family owned restaurants are dope.” Ted said. He handed Rebecca’s mom an envelope with cash in it. A hundred dollar’s worth.

“Oh, wow, I can’t accept this. This is too much.”

“Take it. I hope it can help. Maybe you could take Rebecca to a nice dinner. She won’t go with me… I told her I wanted to repay her since she saved my life this morning.” Ted said.

Rebecca’s mom wrapped her arm around Ted’s waist, patting the middle of his back. “Thank you so much! Go to dinner with him, Rebecca. What could hurt it?”

Rebecca looked at her mom with fear in her eyes. “Okay… okay.” Rebecca said.

“Yo Ted, we’ve got to go. It’s already ten o’clock. We’re going to be late for practice.” Ted’s friend said.

“See you tonight. Five o’clock sound good? Where should I pick you up?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Rebecca said, pushing her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “My house… uh… yeah, It’s the small blue one with a yellow roof by the ocean. You can’t miss it. Just five minutes down the A1A.”

***

Rebecca’s mom sunk into the booth like a feather falling on a bed of leaves. Her unkempt hair, secured with a pen, was becoming loose by the minute. She placed her server’s book on the table and picked up Rebecca’s hand, caressing it between her clammy fingers. “So… are you going to tell me about how you saved Ted’s life?”

Rebecca slurped her coffee, a warm bitter taste rolled down her stomach. She looked down at the table. “Why did you persist in going on a date with him? You know how I am with boys. I either talk too much or shut off completely. I’m already a nervous wreck.”

“Honey, you’ve got to mingle with people. It’s great you are happy by yourself, but this will be good for you. If you want to cancel, then do that. I was just trying to help.”

“It’s whatever. I’ll go to this dinner, and probably never hear from him again. You just wait.”

“Rebecca, that’s not true. You are so likeable and beautiful. Give yourself credit.”

“We’ll see.” Rebecca said with a deep exhale. She slouched back into the seat, staring blankly at the booth in front of her. Silence had taken over the conversation.

“Keep your phone on you. I won’t be home to help you get ready. Can you be back here at the restaurant by ten?”

“Yes, that sounds good.” Rebecca said, getting up from the table. The glass door shut, causing the two little bells to hit the door.

***

4:45 o’clock

Rebecca passed back and forth in the section between her twin bed and her desk. Hair in a loose French braid, baby hairs contouring her round face. She wore a white dress that’s been in her closet since high school. The only thing that looked decent enough to go on a date with Ted. Let alone anyone.

4:50 o’clock

The clock ticked. Her bed squeaked like a mouse as she sat down.

4:51 o’clock

Back in the bathroom, looking at herself one last time. She grabbed her lip gloss and placed it on her pink plump lips. One more spray of her Justin Bieber perfume dripped down her neck. Rubbing it onto her wrists, her heart started thumping. It’s almost time.

Rebecca wasn’t much for getting dolled up. She knew makeup would come in handy for times like this, but it was never normal for her to wear it. Brown eyeliner to line the tops of her eyes. Not too dark, not too light. A BB creme covered her pasty complexion, smearing away her pores, but sheer enough to show her freckles. Her emerald eyes enhanced with an enchanting eye shadow.

Even though she loved to read, study Edgar Allan Poe, and have an introverted soul. She had a side no one ever saw, a makeup tutorial loving, Hallmark Movies, girly girl.

4:55 o’clock

The doorbell rang.

4:56 o’clock

Well, maybe not, “one last time” Rebecca stood at her mirror picking up her feet to get a whole glance of her outfit. With the wedged heels, she was just a hare above five foot nine.

4:57 o’clock

“Hey Ted,” Rebecca said with a smile.

Ted had a bouquet of white roses in his hands and handed them to Rebecca. “Wow, Rebecca, you look great.”

Rebecca let no one see this side of her before. Everyone at campus was used to the nerdy girl with glasses, hair in a ponytail, dark circles under her eyes from studying too much, and athletic t-shirts.

“That’s very sweet. Thank you.” Rebecca said, looking down. She held the roses in her hand, smelling the perfume that ascended from them. “Uh… Come in… I’ll put these in some water.”

“What a cozy house you have.” Ted said, looking around the den.

“Yeah, pretty small and cozy if you want to say that.” Rebecca’s two-inch heels squeaked in the kitchen, finding a vase for the flowers.

“Where are we planning to eat?”

Ted came around to the kitchen and leaned on the refrigerator.

Rebecca glanced at him, making way up to his broad shoulders. His arms crossed right at his chest. A tall, handsome guy in my house? What is this second life I’m living?

“I was thinking I would take you to a location that you’ve probably never been to. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, only if you don’t kill me. I read too many murder mysteries.” Crap! Murder mysteries? I’m already losing it.

“Definitely not wanting to kill you.” Ted said, with a chuckle. “Would you be down to ride in a helicopter?”

“A helicopter? Where did you find that? I’ve never been in a plane, let alone a helicopter.”

“I have my connects.” Ted said with a smirk.