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jackalsinthekitchen · 6 months ago

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pop report #7 (billboard hot 100, week of 5/18/24)

america is not bored (for a minute, anyway)

Sometimes America gets bored, and dilutes its own hit parade. Only mass disengagement – ideal in an election year – could let that sacred democratic space become occupied, sorry preoccupied, with ranking thirty-one new Taylor songs from least to most enervated. But last week’s chart reflected a striking exception, a national rubberneck. For Drake and Kendrick Lamar are, yes, quite conceivably the Mike Jack and Prince of their genre (a proposed big third has been reviewed and rejected), and no serious, high-profile hip-hop feud has yet graced the streaming era. The 5/18 Hot 100 reflects a sudden, vicious bloom of disses, each star ultimately having accused the other – with apparent sincerity – of something unforgivable. It was savage, yet it perversely brought out the best in both artists, and showed up the old-headline hits as trivialities.

Drake has no status as an innovator, though his preference for doleful singing over speaking has proven influential, helping blur the lines between popular genres. Moreover, he can but must not dance – ergo, not much of a Mike Jack. Yet his place is secure atop the album charts, no matter what he’s on about this time around, and he rivals fellow maybe-mercenary Swift for consolidating power over time. Kendrick’s prolificacy would earned him a verbal dressing-down from the spirit at Paisley Park, and his joie de vivre dwells at an opposite pole. But unlike the Dylan Nobel, that K-dot deserved his Pulitzer felt self-evident. As with Jackson and Nelson, the division of clout and cred feels clean until you stare longer – and also, the artsier one is much pricklier about being associated with the less artsy one closer to world domination.

Amid innumerable chronicles of the fracas are good articles; the beef isn't mine to condense. But the records remain the record. In a field of cherry-bomb epics, Lamar’s “Not Like Us” scorched the widest radius, and now it’s a #1 forever, just like “First Person Shooter”. After a breath of sweet soul comes that graveyard stab of strings, pilfered from a Monk Higgins cover of Ray Charles’ ominous lament “I Believe to My Soul” and sped the hell up. Lamar is hopped up on his own venom, every accusation a gouge; he means fucking business, and it’s the coldest of kills (“stab this way, stab that way”). It’s ruthless, but the smooth dexterity of his performance is riveting – whatever’s on the tip of his rapier, the music is still the point, which helps the unease go down easier.

After all, imagine what a dark landmark this would be if hip-hop’s most handsomely paid icon is, y’know, guilty of all that. “I think that Oakland show gon’ be your last stop,” Lamar spits, after raising (as opposed to prefabricating) the specter of Tupac, half of the most famous such feud – a bicoastal tempest that left two all-time luminaries dead. Without comparing each hypothetical loss to art, the threat of either principal failing to survive this spat has been too terrible to touch, the way the horrific inconvenience of a civil war maybe keeps it from manifesting in our violently polarized era. The level of discomfort this event has and could attain was built to compel morbid fascination. As Americans, we’re awfully accustomed to unimaginable outcomes – and what we move on from says strange things about our ways of processing.

But even when we can't, we often insist on stepping into a sweet denial chamber for a second. Sandwiched between two million-selling musical murders is “Million Dollar Baby”, the club-ready runaway smash from one of those sleepy-eyed white guys with a certain kind of facial hair. The now-aptly named Tommy Richman is from TikTok, and his robotic funk savvy reminds me of Peter Brown’s “Do You Wanna Get Funky With Me”, a one-man simulation of something Black that feels bloodless, but more than functional. The summer and its songs are now upon us, and one of them is that other musical murder: “Euphoria”, Kendrick’s first full-length shot across the bow. “You’re not a rap artist, you’re a scam artist” has waited behind a lot of lips since Drake’s ascendency, but nothing could sound as juicy as Kendrick just letting it slip over a dreamy Teddy Pendergrass sample. Then he erupts with molten contempt, trenchantly transforming a human mess into something profound.

“This conflict did not begin with an act of violence,” Michael Harriot reminds. “In a sense, [this] is really about Black excellence.” And although Lamar’s bars being brilliant is as foregone a conclusion as Drake’s next album going #1 – though any fallout remains to be seen – it remains the apparent responsibility of the Black musical icon to vault over established standards, to pull out every stop. No album has masterpieced harder than Cowboy Carter in a hot minute, and had it lassoed the entire top 10 like Swift’s album did, it would’ve resulted from a livelier, more rewarding mass listening project. Yet stats suggest Taylor’s unwieldy latest affair is winning the attention war – though it rarely gets more exciting than the dirgey “Fortnight”, a flagship single featuring Post Malone, the original sleepy-eyed white guy with a certain kind of facial hair.

Though the album gives up slow rewards (like “I wanna kill him”, it’s in stray lines that hit you sideways, as opposed to the inescapable hooks we rely on her for), I’m on Team Disappointed – and yeah, tTPD’s concurrence with Beyoncé’s ambitious and open-armed coup amplifies my chagrin. The theory that unprecedented validation has eroded TS’s humility and editorial sense is confused by how casual and canny Midnights was at once. Maybe after a tumultuous personal spell and a generous spectacle of a victory-lap tour, this functioning workaholic has earned a This One’s for Her. Yet the album’s overall efficacy as a sedative or a diary feels limited, especially comparing it to the sumptuous acoustic textures and painstaking craft of folklore. She’s not banal yet, but the watered-down EDM “Fortnight” revisits is beginning to wear thin.

Three places down from the archetypal club hit by the white kid is a folky country banger by Shaboozey, a Black performer, rather closer to Zach Bryan’s misty reveries than Morgan Wallen’s rap-smitten flexes. “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” stands as strong a chance of uniting and lighting up a crowded room as “Million Dollar Baby”, though the vibes are otherwise irreconcilable. Our country’s ever-unresolved racial dialogue can feel most productive, or at least most interesting, in the pop-musical realm, though it isn’t always easy to know what questions and answers the constant cross-pollinations are raising. Disheartening recent influx of male artists notwithstanding, the way the Blackest and whitest pop genres are talking to each other right now is politically exciting. It goes beyond softened borders, with Bey’s panoramic expansion of an old Ray Charles concept merely the most pointed, adventurous example. But masc vs. femme, Black vs. white, queer-coded vs. painfully straight, in the box vs. new under the sun, Champagne Papi vs. Kung Fu Kenny – our musical landscape is an ever-restless one, the central conundrums rarely under threat of resolution.

My point, such as I have one, is that if you slice off the top of the charts you always end up with an interesting double record, with even the most recent Swift swallow a more interesting double record. Cue up side 2 of whatever variant you chose of this round, and you get the casually buzzing hornet’s nest “Like That”, with Kendrick already sounding brutally peeved on his verse. The needle then hustles you into the petulant intro to Drake’s “Family Matters”, for which “Euphoria” already provided some context if you’ve been off the grid. Drake's track lands no point harder than how long this month has lasted.

Compare the normally sedate, reflective Kendrick’s palpable anger – you feel the threatening brush of the quills of his mind – to the normally sedate, unreflective Drake’s manufactured-sounding intensity. His sense of affront sounds weakened by his well-funded complacency – easy to project, like the idea that he farms out his verses. But rap is like jazz; the central instrument is too communicative to conceal much. For the former Degrassi MVP, anything like sharpness feels like an imitation. He sounds inconvenienced where his rival sounds murderous, a comprehensible tactic that as fits go earned worst-dressed on the skirmish’s fizzled-out conclusion(?), “The Heart Part 6”. “Matters” is a deft cut which admirably matches the mood-shifting “epic” vibe of “Euphoria” et al. But even with Drizzy stepping up, the contest was never exactly a close one.

The temptation down the rabbit-hole of whether Kendrick is a spousal abuser – a charge so hyped up in the drop, it has the feel of a secret a kid can’t keep in, rather than, like, a lie – isn't much match for the distracting allure of Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso”, the latest surefire trifle in a neo-neo-disco wave. Dance music hasn't sounded so percolation-for-percolation sumptuous as it does on this (or, say, the casually flawless “Dance the Night”) since Nile Rodgers was still [c]hic. The song’s unhesitant strut is the kind of thing you just bow down to, pure feelin-yourself momentum from a versatile new star whose identity appears as malleable as Chappell Roan’s is uncompromising. Its phrasemaking, its effervescence, its on-vacation give a fucks – the song is like “Flowers” in full flower, being single as a garden of delights earthly and otherwise.

This top ten is rounded out by a far more gentlemanly duel, for it’s the season of not just the sticks but the Growly Boys. The unabashedly dramatic “Beautiful Things” and “Lose Control” are how-tos for those interested in self-immolation, over a cause Macklemore will swiftly remind you isn’t the end of the world (love, or pussy I suppose. or both). Benson Boone and Teddy Swims sure do have diaphragms; not a dandruff-grain of irony sullies either’s heaving shoulders. Each song has a guaranteed valentine future: karaoke challenge, front-lawn boom box staple, so forth. And both, if you listen over and over (which, why), largely validate their own abundant sincerity. Both also serve to make the “take me to church” guy sound like a paragon of smoothness and restraint, on his new one, which lands like a less self-satisfied, slightly doomier Maroon 5 hit.

Other chapters in America’s bestselling beef (“meet the grahams”, “Push Ups”) fill out the top twenty – the album this feud forms is a great, if bitter and bewildering, one – dispelling a slow-moving cloud of flukes and superstars. SZA, always a lot more subtly exhilarating than people seem willing to concede, continues to gaze out over the waves she rode last year. Ariana finds her place in the moment by encouraging single-soul vulnerability, rather than trying to lead an army of discontents to liberation. Taylor simulates the instant standards she didn’t hold herself to writing this time, dragging herself to the gym and onstage, feeble but serviceable revisitations of “Anti-Hero” self-loathing and “Bejeweled” self-puffing. Jack is still in a post-nut haze, Noah is still wistfully welling up, and Zach and Kacey are still stuck somewhere between the present and past – reminding us just how hard this moment will hang on as it fades into whatever’s next, as moments do. Whatever we don't remember, someone will.

#kendrick lamar #drake #taylor swift #sabrina carpenter #shaboozey #tommy richman #benson boone #teddy swims #metro boomin #j. cole

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punemy-spotted · 3 years ago

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Of Blackbirds and Barons: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You Make The Rain Fall Harder

Relationships: Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader; CEO!Billy Russo x Reader; Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader x CEO!Billy Russo

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con; Dark!Fic; Mob and Mafia Elements; Character Death (Minor and Major); Threesome; Possessive/Obsessive Characters; Blackmail/Coercion; Kidnapping; Mentions of War; Human Rights Violations; Contract Killing; Mafia AU; Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat; Complete Disregard for Actual Rules of Journalism and Style Guides; Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply

Chapter Specific Warnings: Non-con; Drugging/Date-Rape; Fingering (F-Receiving); Vaginal Sex; Unprotected Sex; Possible Breeding Kink; Kidnapping; Obsessive/Possessive Zemo; Dark!Zemo; Human Rights Violations; Discussion of Destruction of Novi Grad and Sokovia; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The problem with having sympathy for the Devil is that he will drag you down to Hell regardless.

Author’s Notes: Another series! Because I can’t get enough of Mob!AUs! Zemo makes his dark entrance. And this IS dark, so read at your own discretion. As always, all of my work is 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Masterlist

The long tradition of the Duchy of Sokovia, that which once stood the test of time against the Tsars of Russia, began to crumble long before its borders did, its sweeping architecture and decadent mystery giving way to the sharp lines of Brutalism and the characteristic industrialism of the Eastern Bloc. Still, the Sokovian people managed to maintain their identity in the face of a new kind of empire, bringing greenery and art to a brisk, concrete world.

There is no Sokovia now, not the way one would think, but there are still Sokovians scattered around the world, clinging to the traditions of their once-home and searching for a banner to be united under.

A banner carried by a man like Helmut Zemo.

The caret blinks back at you with a mocking sort of finality, a metronome counting down the seconds to your ultimate frustration. Once. Twice. Thrice — you lose count, staring at the screen until your vision crosses and the words blur together, until only his name remains.

Zemo.

Baron Helmut Zemo.

Your notes are expansive, excessive, papers strewn about you and you look at each scribbled anecdote, each carefully dictated word, each photograph you have annotated until it is more red marker than actual picture and you are… frustrated.

Where do you put all that passion? He asked you over champagne and charcuterie.

You know this man.

You know this man like you know your own soul. You know this man who has bared his soul to you in turn and how are you supposed to impress upon the world that he has shown you the broken heart beating slow and painful in his chest in just a thousand words?

There is nothing. Nothing you can do, nothing you can saywhich could even begin to encompass the horrors which he has experienced and now as you painstakingly tap out word after word describing the grand beauty of his apartment, you wonder if this really was what your life was meant to be.

These are… fluff.

This is a man who has managed to unite an entire fractured country under his royal banner and yet the project wants to know about the indoor garden of his apartment, wants to photograph him in fine suits and know his haircare routine and this can’t be it. This can’t be the face of the man you see everywhere now, moreso since you picked up the assignment, purple-masked and surrounded by brass wings, over the homes of Sokovians all over New York.

And not just there.

I am a man, he told you with his hand on your thigh, But I can become an idea. And an idea is immortal.

You let your eyes skim over the photographs you took, a collection of banners and graffiti and billboards all proclaiming the need for the Sokovian people to come together and heal. To show that their small country — broken and divided in the wake of an attack by a rich megalomaniac’s private military — could not be taken down simply because its borders had been erased and its capitol turned to rubble.

We live in an age of information, and through information we are boundless.

It should terrify you.

It does terrify you.

But inside of that terror is a sick fascination with the man, isn’t there? That’s the trouble with you investigative types — peel back the layers enough and you find yourself capable of feeling sympathy for anyone.

He flaunts his power, and yet it’s innocent. Is it so wrong, then, to want to bring my country back to its glory?

No, you remember answering shakily, but not as well as you remember the pinpricks of heat his fingers left on your skin when that gloved hand brushed over you arm.

Breathe deep, hover fingers over your keyboard and try not to feel like you owe him the weight of the world. He approved of this, even suggested a word count and a topic of conversation — any chance to put his name out into the consciousness of the public, it seemed, to raise interest for the gallery by raising interest for the cause. Make it indulgent. My people, they enjoy art. They enjoy knowing that their leaders have preserved the past for them.

So do it.

… Baron Zemo’s New York penthouse is its own garden amongst a sea of steel and stone, a veritable museum of priceless artworks rescued from what remained of Sokovian museums and ministry buildings. It is, in its own way, an ode to the spirit of Sokovia, which lives on in the hearts and minds of its people around the world. He displays artworks of the many displaced Sokovians, gesturing broadly to a 3D model of an art gallery he intends to have built near the memorial at Novi Grad — with the consent of the Slovakian government — and speaking fondly of his intention to showcase the lost art of Sokovia as a reminder that loss of land cannot be the loss of an identity…

The artworks, they will be painful at first. But the gallery will showcase more and more, and eventually we will have hope.

He waves a gloved hand over the pieces he has preserved. Sokovian history. Scenic expanses, fields and flowers, a city skyline dotted with domed cathedrals. Each painting marred some way too, you can see when you look close. Patched canvas, the dusting of ash and rubble in the corner of an ornate frame, a trick of the light revealing repainting to cover up damage.

A stone hoof sits on a bookshelf, The attached horse and rider blown to rubble in the attack. I’m told it was of Emperor Ferdinand, but my archivists have not been able to confirm, he tells you as he stands behind you, his hand resting soft on the small of your back.

Come. There is more to be seen.

More to be experienced.

His living room is a garden.

It smells like fresh jasmine the moment you walk in, ivy climbing the walls and you swear you can hear birdsong from more than the pigeons cooing outside. Flower arrangement is an often looked down upon art, but the gardens in Sokovia were impeccable. My father won several awards for his pieces before his…

He trails off and you watch him, seeing the pain paint his face as openly as if he meant for you to watch the facade crack and then back to that placid, pleasant calm, a serpentine smile on his face as he extends to you a hand and guides you to the open air of his balcony and bids you Sitbids you Enjoy bids you I have looked forward to his meeting.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Baron Zemo, you begin politely, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and trying to avoid the way his eyes follow your fingers, feeling seen, We’re grateful for the honor of your patronage for this piece, we know you could have —

Nonsense, he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, gesturing to his butler and then leaning back comfortably in his seat as champagne and various cheeses are brought forth, You are my guest, and I am grateful you agreed to come meet me here, to assist with my… project. Now. Please, enjoy, I do not want to treat this as strictly business.

Is that why he had you come alone?

Don’t.

Don’t dwell on it.

It happens all the time, right? It has to.

A somewhat reclusive man, not keen to be in the limelight, in need of public attention to achieve his goals — you are a means to an end and he is your means to an end, surely you can understand.

Is that why he wipes the honey from your lips and kisses it off his fingers?

This is going to be a difficult conversation and you know it. You can only gush over houseplants and rose décor for so long before it becomes… trite, before you’re a part of the problem, painting a shining veneer over a half-decade old injustice

But he is warm, warm and friendly and you cannot help but laugh to his response when you draw attention to the architecture to draw attention from your blush — Very modern, yes. We are in New York, after all, and the old ways are fine for country houses but not so fine, for sunny penthouse apartments —not noticing the way he looks like he’s just smelled blood at the sound of it, the narrowing of his eyes and the hiding of his inscrutable expression behind a sip of champagne.

Well then. Shall we get started?

Of course.

Why don’t we start with your plans for opening night?Your notepad is out, the recorder sitting in front of you to pick up the sound of your voice and his, ready to commit everything to memory.

Of course. We cannot deny the… elephant in the room, I think you Americans call it. There are many who took pictures of the aftermath of the attack, and not enough who have seen it immortalized…

… The tragedy of Novi Grad and the consequential absorption of Sokovia into its surrounding countries weighs heavy in the Baron’s living room, draped in ivy and jasmine and hanging vines but also in photographs of what was left after a private military corporation chose to turn human lives into a war game.

No one knows who Ultron is, only that he is dangerous, that his technology rivals that of the SHIELD Syndicate’s Tony Stark, that he is willing to ally himself to the highest bidder, and that he is fully capable of unleashing endless destruction upon the world…

You will never forget the photographs he shows you, all that death and destruction in the golden light of his balcony, all that warmth and all you can see is cold bodies bathed in concrete dust.

They call to you, when you close your eyes — answer for our crimes — and you remember the way his voice changes too, so soft and solemn, the brush of fingers against yours when you touch the bombed out shell of a country mansion My home, in Sokovia, to the gray-and-blood horror which forms the centerpiece of his display, and you remember your research too, that the Baron is a widow, that his title is inherited from the most tragic of circumstances, that his son was an innocent lost in the attack and you are furious too, at the senselessness of it all.

It is a tragedy yet unanswered for, more than half a decade since the dust settled.

That quote sits front and center on your mock-up, wondering if you could make whatever editor who would inevitably rip this piece to shreds — just before publishing its corpse alongside some glamour picture of the Baron his coat — finally see the error of ignoring the tragedy. You won’t, but it’s worth a shot, as you lean back in your chair and stare at the screen again.

Sometimes you think about it.

Watching Novi Grad happen from the comfort and safety of your living room, wrapped in blankets as open war broke out in the capital city of what had once been a crown jewel in an ancient dynasty. A playground, a show of force.

Sometimes you hear the screams.

The blinking carat waits for you to add more to this story, to decide where you want to go.

… The Baron plays a game with his interview, insists on knowing his guests just as we insist on getting to know the enigmatic leader who has risen up a beacon for the displaced people of his homeland. We will not be recreating our answers in this article, as they were of course of a personal nature, but we do thank the Baron for taking the time to get to know us just as he bared his soul, his sorrows, and his hopes to a gaggle of strangers seeking to make him known to the world…

Tell me of you, sweetling.

Me? This interview is about you.

And so I must tell all my secrets for free? No, I insist. A secret for a secret.

He watches you with a hunger, coal-black eyes an invitation. Slide your gaze away or fall and who knows what depths he will drag you into and what you will find there?

No.

Don’t look, don’t look as you sip the tea Oeznik brought when you politely declined the champagne — Another time, probably — and let it brace you with its bitterness, let it clear your head.

Breathe.

You’re in too deep now, trapped in this cave of wonders… and wouldn’t it be worth it? Know him as he knows you, follow the trajectory of the smiling man before you.

What would you like to know?

Tell me how you taste his eyes whisper.

Tell me what it would take says the curve of his fingers over your hand.

Let me put you on display hums the razor-blade of his smile.

Tell me what drives a woman to take on such a … dangerous line of work, is the final inquiry, innocent and curious and gentle and you sip your tea and smile.

Is it dangerous?

You must know how many secrets you uncover — and the lengths the keepers will go to in order to hide them.

If people get hurt, shouldn’t I bring that to light?

How noble of you, he tells you with another hum, with his fingers squeezing yours, with his eyes fixed on the gaze you refuse to send his way, It must be quite thrilling.

Let me thrill you too, sweetling.

Pull away.

Do it.

Pull your hand away, make an act of it, pick up a candied strawberry and press it past your lips, let the sweetness soak your tongue and wash away the bitter thoughts, let yourself be bright and chipper and pretend you are not afraid.

Because you’re not.

Of course you’re not.

You are in control here, you must be in control here.

This is nothing. This is a casual interview with a handsome man in his handsome penthouse, an interview about architecture and art galleries and you were a correspondent once and you are meant to be friendly here, not afraid, so what are you afraid of?

What is it about his coal-dark eyes and too-sharp smile that turns your blood, that sends you back into your hutch, little rabbit, what is it about the way he prowls at the corner of your thoughts that makes you shudder so?

What are you running from?

Who are you running from?

Your turn, sweetling.

Mmh?

Our deal, or have you forgotten already?

Yes. You have.

It’s his eyes, you keep insisting to yourself. They drag you in, so dark it feels like you’re drowning in the void of them, searching for the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s a chase.

It’s what you’re good at.

Right — I’m sorry, I’m…

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The fog in your thoughts doesn’t fade, confusion crossing over your features and ill delight crossing over his. All you had was tea, tea and some of the candied fruit his butler brought for your enjoyment, how can you feel so…

Hazy?

So…

Upturned?

Something clatters behind you and you realize it’s the chair you were sitting on as you stand, unsteady and abrupt, lost in the moors of your own frantic thoughts and there is his hand on your elbow, so careful and soft and there are his lips before yours, so…

Tempting.

Somewhere, a woman croons to you of falling rain and rushing blood and the room does spin round as you stand still in the open air of a desire that is yours and not your own all at once. Shhh, shhh, let me help you whispered in your ear, a hand to your cheek and you…

You blink.

Reality flows into view like a sudden bath of ice water. Jerk away from his iron grip, raise your hands and try to resist, shake your head and N-no, I think. I think I need to go, I’ll just call a cab —

I cannot let you do that, sweetling. Not when you are finally within my reach.

His hold is steady. Unbreakable, even, as he pulls you close and you might even be dancing with the way his arm wraps around your waist the moment you fall into his chest, Don’t look so afraid, sweetling. No one will hurt you, here.

I will protect you like a jewel.

Your mind is still yours — the dose was just enough — but your limbs? Your limbs are tied to his strings, lost as he guides you right back inside, lost as he gestures for Oeznik to close off the balcony.

Your place is somewhere else now.

You belong underneath me.

He guides you inside, jasmine intoxicating your senses and wisps of smoke seeming to float past your eyes. Reality blends into the fantasy, the Baron and his prize, the gentle touch against your soft cheek, the cradling against his form and he is…

Determined.

A door opens. A portal into another kind of decadence, with soft sheets and softer touches, the sliding of a mouth over yours as your escape clicks shut behind you and you are pressed between wall and man and you are consumed.

Curl your fingers into the lapel of his coat, lose yourself to the pressure of his lips, the sharp nip of teeth against soft flesh. He tastes of champagne and honeycomb and you are saccharine on the tongue, a mess of sighs and admonitions left unsaid.

My precious thing, whispered into your unfocused sighs, I will take such fine care of you.

And you want to protest, want to insist you are free you are uninterested you do not want this man and his hands under the cotton of your blouse but the words tangle on your tongue and instead all you can do is whimper.

Whimper, and hear him chuckle against your skin, a line of kisses drawn from your parted lips along your jaw until he’s found the thrum of your pulsebeat to draw a gasp the moment his teeth scrape against the delicate skin. He must mark you his, after all, and this he will gladly renew, over and over.

Over and over as he draws you to bed, lays you amongst soft cushions and softer sheets, indulges in the soft curves of you in the golden glow of the room. Your clothes — so conservative, so professional, so unnecessary — he makes short work of even with what mild resistance you manage, Shh, shh, do not fight me.

The heat is yours and not yours all at once, warming your skin and leaving you flushed, leaving a trail of burning want along your skin where his fingers trace over you and centering in your core You need this, sweetling, look at you…

Do you?

Is it you who needs this or he, he who has begun to kiss along your skin, he who presses himself between your legs so impatiently? The accusation lives in your thoughts and passes past your lips as a strangled Nnh-no, ignored without ceremony or appeal.

Protests are useless when your tongue can form no words and your limbs can do nothing but writhe, seeking structure in the grip of his sheets as he unravels you with a press of his lips to that soft center of yours, slick with a need you cannot own and yet all yours.

He maps you with a hungry gaze, fingers already tracing the plushness of your folds, gathering slick like he might have been collecting nectar and you watch him pull back, watch him bring his hand to his mouth, watch him wrap lips around his fingertip and drag the taste of you onto his tongue, One day I shall make you taste how sweet you are…

One day, after he has savored you so deeply.

You are so full of words they burst out of you on a normal day and yet nothing you say comes to light, just the bare whimpers and anxious mewls of your needy self as he returns to inspecting, to enjoying, to savoring the reactiveness of your body.

He touches. He touches as if he has owned your body a thousand times, he touches as if you are delicate, as if you are breakable, as if his fingers might lead you to shattering around him here and now and you…

Are so close, already.

So close, trying to find the strength in your muscles to pull away, to speak something beyond desperation with every curl of fingers against your cunt, with every pleased hum he utters in response to the flex of your sex. Shh… no more fighting, sweetling, I know you can be good.

He knows you can be good, he says, with all the innocence of a man trying to convince his cat to stop clawing the couch, not a man presently holding your legs open with one hand at your thigh and the other curling against your walls while you arch your back. It builds, the pressure, it builds and builds and builds and — Let go, sweetling. Let me see your ecstasy.

Is that what this is?

You keen. You keen softly, desperately, brokenly, as skilled fingers find the spot which makes you, which leaves you breathless and flushed and sobbing, a trickle of tears making their path down your cheeks as you bite your own lip to muffle the sounds you did not know you could make. Wordless and pleading and he notices with a cold smile the way you seem to succumb, hips no longer desperate to escape the curling, stretching assault of two — no, three — fingers preparing you for him.

Hips pressing back towards him now, a betrayal of your conscious-yet-barely-focused mind, that lustful sweetness in you taking over and he can only watch in awe. Awe not at your surrender but at your perfection, muttering in a language you do not understand and yet you understand perfectly what he means — he will have you, all of you.

Ah, I shall so enjoy playing with you more, sweetling.

But not now.

Now his impatience outpaces your need and both outpace his cruelty, his desire to see you beg and so instead he pulls back his hand — and hears the desperate N-no, please don’t — to bring a cruel gleam to his dark eyes and even barely conscious as you are you know he is beautiful.

Beautiful and cruel, as he frees himself and curls fingers around his cock, rubs your own slick onto that soft skin, hisses at the very feel of you like it must be a preview to how you will make him throb, and presses himself over you. Presses himself over you, absorbs the cry of pain or anguish or relief which pours from your plush lips with the punishment of a kiss just as he sinks, hips pressing against yours, stretching you with his full length and Now we are one, my sweet.

Now we are one.

He will take fine care of you but you, you take finer care of him, so plush and tight around his senses, so desperate as you cling, so lost and wanton and he kisses away the tears which continue to sting your cheeks and hisses half-sensible promises into your ear — You will always be mine — as he ruts his hips and practically shoves you forward with every thrust, dragging you back with a snarl and the pressure builds.

Builds and you moan, builds and you sob into his hungry mouth, builds and you hold to him as if he were the last thing which made sensein the world builds and you are consumed and he is consuming, and the release is both of yours, spilling deep inside of you and that too is the final shackle upon your soul.

You sit. In the darkness of your office and you remember, worrying the cuticle of your thumb and staring at the words you have typed while your memory drifts back to that hazy reminder.

… A discussion with the Baron about Sokovia reveals a country rich with history. Once a Duchy of the Hapsburgs during the era of the Holy Roman Empire, the deeply Catholic country clings to the Austrian and Italian tradition of ceremony and indulgence. Baron Zemo plays an example of the hymns sung in the many cathedrals which once filled the country, a mixture of Sokovian and Latin to raise the soul to divine heights.

The Baron speaks of the country’s culture with a warm fondness, of how even during Soviet occupation, the people managed to enjoy games like ice hockey, and football (the European, variant, the Baron would like to emphasize), and even spent time indulging in horse racing. Surrounded by Slovakia and the Czech Republic, it keeps a similar tradition, with a twist…

No, that cannot encompass all that you discussed, and yet that is what the recording shows, words traded back and forth which you do not remember, a conversation of laughter and warmth and none of it slots into what your mind tells you occurred.

You erase. You rewrite. It is the same passage, over and over, fingers acting unbidden of your frantic will and eventually you give in, demand to be done with these words and this screen, eventually you desire peace.

… Baron Helmut Zemo is many things. A historian, an ambassador, a politician, an activist. He is a widower, a man trapped in the past, a man with lofty dreams for the future. He wears his sorrow as well as he wears his happiness, and for those who still call themselves Sokovian, he is their shepherd into a new age.

And as the door to your office opens, your keeper.

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #dark!baron zemo x reader #dark!helmut zemo x reader #billy russo x reader #dark!billy russo x reader #helmut zemo smut #dark!fic #mob!AU #helmut zemo #billy russo

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aitarose · 4 years ago

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GOLD DIGGER | BOLIN

PAIRING: Bolin x Earthbender!Reader [fem]

PLOT: Probending is easy when it’s all about the money. There’s no time for friends, romance, or allies—but that all changes when Y/N’s in-game rival saves her life. loosely based on this request by @comicgeek

WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, a little fluff, a little angst, stuck together

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

A/N: i rewrote/edited this entire piece, so that’s why i added a tag list. it used to be 1.4k words and that wasn’t cutting it for me so i made it longer and decided on it being one part only, also i hated the gif i originally used so here’s a new one lol

MY MASTERLIST

Here come the Fire Ferrets’ opponents! The three-time defending champions, the White Falls Wolf-Bats!

Y/N raised her right arm above her head, watching proudly as her winged sleeve unveiled itself to the fan-filled stadium. She stood in a triangular formation beside Tahno and Shaozu, who were howling as loud as they possibly could.

Her expression was nothing more than stoic as a low whistle blew from her lips, adding an unnoticeable pitch to the viewer’s screams and cheers for their reigning champions.

Flames erupted around their team, fireworks exploding in the air in bursts of red and yellow. Through the plastic of her wolf mask, Y/N could clearly see her opponents, the Fire Ferrets, groaning in disgust at the obnoxious display in front of them.

A large smirk rose from Y/N’s lips as she noticed the unmistakable frown of annoyance on her rival’s face. He stood with a slight slouch, visibly cringing at the antics of the Wolf Bats, determined eyes paired nicely with his loathsome look.

In all her time living in Republic City, Y/N had never met anyone quite like Bolin. He had this natural positivity and enlightenment ingrained into his personality that she’d never been able to fully understand.

Sure, she hadn’t exactly been trying to get to know the earthbender any better—but he also hadn’t ever been at the top of her priorities.

Probending was the main idea on Y/N’s brain ever since she’d learned of the sport. As a child, her parents had taken her to countless matches and championships that she’d found a passion for the game. There was nothing she loved more than a good match between challengers.

But after the death of her parents to the Triple Threats, Y/N’s love for probending subsided. The excitement quickly died and was replaced with ambition. A dry and one-dimensional ambition for nothing more than the profits of fame and autographs.

Y/N cracked her knuckles, shooing away any nerves or hesitations she harbored over the probability of their win. They’d already bribed the referees, there was no way their opponents could win—even if they did have the Avatar on their side.

The champs and the challengers face off at the center line. And here we go!

At the echoing ring of the bell, Y/N dashed forwards. The familiarity of the game infused with her muscle memory made her a dangerous player. She knew the ins and outs of the sport, giving her the advantage over any skilled opponent, no matter how powerful they were.

She turned to Tahno, giving him a curt nod of reassurance, before watching him begin to shoot waves of water at the Avatar. On her opposite side, Shaozu made his way towards Bolin. Bursts of fire shooting in every direction, including Y/N’s

Flames seared the air, narrowly missing her face as she easily dodged Mako’s first attempts at an attack. She studied his movements, picking up on his style of fighting before letting her senses connect with the weight of the stone beneath her feet.

She raised her hands quickly, sending the flying slabs in Mako’s direction in a cross formation. Y/N whipped her head to see all three of her attacks hit their target, forcing the firebender into the next zone.

“Perfect form, Y/N!” Shaozu shouted, encouraging his teammate in eliminating their opponents. He turned to speak again, before being knocked down by none other than Y/N’s least favorite person in the entire world, Bolin.

As the boy cheered himself on, his teammates chimed in with words of gratitude and proudness. “Nice shot, Bo!” Mako called, complimenting his younger brother with a large smile pinned across his face.

Y/N, however, was anything but excited for him. She instinctively sprinted in his direction, making a beeline plan of attack. The stones nearest to her raised up and around her body, focusing on the figure that was Bolin.

Revenge was the only thought on her mind. The idea of the physical winnings and profit that she could make off of this match alone. The idea of the billboards and interviews that she’d get paid for, egging her emotions of anger on.

Bolin screamed in surprise as the disks targeted him. He threw up his own hands, blocking her attacks with clumsy ease. “Is that the best you’ve got?” He taunted between breaths, barely managing to dodge her stream of deadly attacks.

Whilst Bolin was distracted, Y/N gestured to Tahno, who’d been dealing with Korra, for assistance. The snake-like boy gave a sly smile to what he assumed Y/N was hinting at, leveling an ongoing stream of water directly at Bolin.

Look at that! Y/N uses her quick thinking to undermine Bolin, whilst Tahno performs the perfect, borderline illegal, assist that should certainly elicit a foul—or apparently not!

“Are you kidding me?” Bolin’s mouth was agape in shock at the ref’s decision. He grunted as Y/N gave Tahno a high-five with a sneer gracing her lips. At the sight of Bolin’s helplessness, she let out a laugh—finding his exasperation amusing.

Bolin mimicked her movements in pettiness, making fun of the way she walked and talked. Y/N rolled her eyes at his childishness, choosing to respond with the same amount of maturity while sticking her tongue out in annoyance.

As the game went on, the two teams seemed to be quite evenly matched in terms of strategy and teamwork. Not even the hefty bribe Tahno had given the referee seemed to put the Wolf Bats in favor of winning.

After what felt like hours, the challengers had reached the point where a coin toss was deemed to be necessary to determine the winners of the probending championship. This event, having never happened before, caused an uproar in the stands, chaotic excitement raging through the arena.

Y/N stared in anticipation at the airborne coin, her heart pounding in unison with every flip and turn it made. She could feel the sweat dripping down the back of her neck as she waited to hear who had been determined to choose the final element.

“Yes!” Korra shouted, pumping her fist into the air before grabbing both Mako and Bolin by the shoulders and taking them aside to their section of the field. Y/N, Tahno, and Shaozu impatiently waited for them to finish—though Y/N already had a good idea of what was about to happen.

“I’m taking this one.” Bolin announced, pushing his brother and Korra aside. He nodded to the referee, confirming the Fire Ferret’s conclusion. “Earthbender versus earthbender, Y/N.”

Y/N reluctantly laughed as Bolin puffed out his chest in an attempt to appear more intimidating. She shook her head in disbelief that he actually thought that he had a chance of beating her. “Alright, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She stepped up on the pedestal, facing opposite to Bolin, before pulling her fists up to her chest. While settling their stances, Y/N sent a sly wink in his direction, confusing him further—causing him to completely miss the ring of the starting bell.

Bolin ducked, feeling the crisp wind from the flying rock slab touch his hair. He continued to dodge attack after attack, sending an equal amount of stone in Y/N’s direction as she was in his. His skill was impressive and undeniable, but also equal to his opponent’s.

“Fight back, you coward!” Y/N screeched amidst her attacks. She was beginning to feel as if she was losing valuable energy while being the only player on the attack. Bolin hadn’t made a single move that couldn’t be defined as defense, choosing only to avoid her marks.

In her frustration, Y/N’s advances had grown sloppy. She’d become less focused and precise, and more upset and angry. Her emotions were very obviously conveyed through her bending, Bolin taking note of her current emotional status.

He finally made his move, seeing his opportunity and thrusted one first in her direction. Unfortunately for him, Y/N made her move at the exact same time, causing both benders to be thrown from the platform.

The thin discs collided between them, becoming nothing but pebbles and dust in the thick air. Fog shrouded their surroundings, restraining them from seeing four feet in front of them—their only idea of what had happened being the moderator’s booming voice.

Well, what do we have here folks? Our very first and unbelievable championship tie, thanks to the outstanding performances today by the Wolf-Bats and the Fire Ferrets!

Gasped filled the stands as the fog dispersed, revealing a dumbstruck Bolin and a fuming Y/N. She huffed dramatically, her face the shade of a red tomato, and marched towards Bolin, pointing her finger at him accusingly.

“I can’t believe you!” She screamed, throwing her hands in the air. She lunged forwards, slightly pushing Bolin away before continuing her rant. “You only sent one attack! One—and somehow that makes me lose the entire game? No!”

“All you did was stand there! You don’t deserve this win, I do!”

Bolin gulped, feeling his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. As much as he liked to say that he couldn’t stand Y/N, that she gave him immense anger and frustration, that didn’t make him any less afraid of her.

“All I did was play the game.” He defended, genuinely frightened by her overwhelming negativity. Bolin stumbled back, taking one hand and scratching the back of his neck in awkwardness, before saying something that was better left unsaid.

“At least I’m not just some gold digger who only wins when I bribe the ref.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped at his accusation, shocked that those words were able to come out of Bolin’s mouth. Bolin, who was supposedly the most kind and understanding person in the entire city. “What did you just say to me?”

Bolin pursed his lips, refusing to say more in fear of making the entire situation worse. Luckily for him the chittering and cheers of the crowd drowned out their argument, the only people listening being their teammates who were standing by in silence.

“I could beat you with or without a bribe,” Y/N challenged, trying to save the little dignity she had left. While she hated to hear Bolin’s accusation, there were parts of it that were true. Would she really be able to win without a little help from up above? Or was she just a washed out player with no real talent?

Pushing her hesitations aside, Y/N took another step closer to Bolin. She smirked as she saw him shake nervously at the absence of space between them. “Tomorrow night, just you and me, in the town square for our rematch.”

Before Bolin could accept or deny her offer, static filled the arena. Electricity fizzled throughout the stands, causing police offers to drop like flies. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as the barely made out the masked figures standing in the audience above unconscious guests.

Electric gloves coated their arms, forcing innocent bystanders to surrender to them and their unjust and self-righteous cause. The Equalists stood as one in a circle around the seats, confidence and selfishness rang off of their looks.

Y/N trembled in fear—fear of losing the thing that mattered most to her, her bending. “Is that?” She trailed off, afraid that if she spoke his name aloud, it would make the moment even more real.

“Amon!” Bolin’s voice boomed in her ear, along with the sound of explosions. The dome above the entire arena had been destroyed, fragments and shards of glass nailed down onto the guests and players. Y/N’s eyes widened, her body was frozen in place, not nearly bracing itself for the inevitable impact.

She could faintly make out a voice shouting, “Y/N! Get out of the way!”, before being grabbed like a rag doll. Y/N felt weightless in the air, falling from the playing field and into the still water below. Her head was forced underwater by a large hand whilst glass continued to rain from the sky.

Y/N hurriedly swam towards the surface of the deep pool, gasping for air and spitting the contaminated water from her mouth. She flailed her arms like a flying lemur with its head cut off in an attempt of adjusting to her new surroundings and environment.

“Watch where you throw those things!” An unexpectedly high pitched voice groaned from behind her back. The boy behind the noise grabbed her untamed hands and held her body close—Y/N assumed he must’ve been making sure there were no Equalists lurking at the bottom of the arena.

After a moment of silence, Y/N craned her neck to see who had saved her from the blast of the explosion. Her expression of gratitude quickly turned to one of annoyance as she saw that it was just Bolin, who she realized was still holding her to his chest.

“Bolin.” She struggled to escape from his grasp, wriggling and kicking his legs in the dark water. “Will you please get your hands off of me? I am capable of swimming, too.”

With her request, Bolin immediately let go of his hold on her, his strong arms ejecting themselves out of his tight embrace. He swam beside her, the earthbenders wading towards the platform connected to the finishing pool that led to the back exit doors of the arena.

“Do you think they’ll be alright up there?” Bolin asked, nervously twiddling his fingers together. His face was distraught, feelings of uselessness overcame his thoughts. “I know Korra and Mako are strong and can definitely handle themselves, but I feel like I should be helping at least a little—”

“Don’t think like that.” Y/N interrupted him, seeing the stress that had drowned out his natural optimism. She gave him a small smile, the corners of her lips rising slightly in an attempt to comfort his nerves. “Your only job right now is to stay alive.”

Bolin took a deep breath, seriousness taking over his features. “You make it sound so easy,” he shuddered, letting his clenched fists relax. “Staying alive is so much hard work. One of these days I’m going to end up as the main course in the Triple Threat barbecue.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at his ridiculousness. It felt good to lighten the mood with a small joke, and Bolin always had humor to share—and much as she liked to despise him, he could be quite funny sometimes—maybe even a little cute.

She raised her right arm, touching his shoulder affectionately, and gave him a real hug. One where her arms wrapped entirely around his body, comfortably sitting above his waistline. It felt right to be in his arms. Perhaps she’d been wrong about Bolin in all their time knowing each other.

Bolin peered over he shoulder in the middle of their first mutual embrace, ensuring that they were safe in their current position. “I don’t see any signs of Equalists down this hall.” He whispered, motioning for Y/N to follow behind him.

The two earthbenders quietly snuck through and around the twists and turns of the underground passageways while the battle above them could still be heard. Chaos and cries for help echoed down the metal halls. Y/N shivered at the thought of what might’ve happened to her if Bolin hadn’t saved her in time.

Considering Y/N had never been one with the skill of hiding her emotions, Bolin took great notice of the fear that had overcome her. He internally fought a long hard battle with himself, before ultimately deciding to put his ego aside.

Bolin reached for Y/N’s hand, taking her’s in his own. He gave her a heartwarming smile, his grin toothy and pure. “I’m really sorry for what I said earlier,” he shrugged, sighing quietly before taking in another breath. “I was really angry and I know that’s no excuse.”

“I have absolutely no idea what your life is like outside of the games, and it was totally uncool of me to even assume anything about you. Can we just move on?”

Y/N snorted in amusement at Bolin’s innocence and purity. She took her hands, while still in his, to her mouth. She pressed a light kiss to his knuckles before letting go. Bolin stared at her in awe, surprised but welcome to the new development that their relationship had taken.

As he struggled to say a single word in response to her kiss, the two rivals had already reached the service doors that lead into the outside, and hopefully safe, world. Y/N pushed the exit open, holding it so Bolin would be able to escape as well.

“I guess this is where we part ways,” she grimaced, realizing that after tonight, they’d go back to their old routine of cat and mouse. Y/N didn’t know what to think of Bolin, but she definitely had a different perspective than she did when she woke up in the morning.

Bolin was quiet for a moment before his face lit up in excitement. He raised his eyebrows at Y/N, wiggling them for a moment in an attempt to make her laugh, which he succeeded in. “What do you mean part ways?”

“We still have our rematch tomorrow night!”

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline @cherryskyies @shell-bells-ringding @xapham @mochminnie @bombardia

#bolin x reader #bolin imagine #bolin imagines #lok imagine #lok imagines #tlok imagine #tlok imagines #tlok x reader #lok x reader #korra #mako #asami #bolin #asami sato #earthbender #earthbending #probending #wolf bats

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bangtan-sonyeonddaeng · 4 years ago

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~Jungkook soulmate AU~

It’s that same dream again. You’re standing on stage in front of tens of thousands of people. They are all shouting your name, but you can’t hear whose name they are saying. You look to your left and can make out 6 other guys. One with light brown hair and dimples when he smiles. One with black hair who nearly falls off stage when he laughs. Another one with bright purple hair who’s laugh makes you feel warm inside. There’s a guy slightly taller than you next to you. His voice is quite deep but his eyes sparkle when he looks at the crowd. You look intently into his eyes, trying to see if you can see your reflection in them but it’s of no use. Your image is blurred out in them too. A smaller man with silver hair is talking now. His eyes remind you of a cat’s, but there is a softness in them when he is looking at the fans. And there’s the final member standing at the end, who’s smile looks like it could rival the sun’s. You have no idea who they are, every time a name is said the sound is muffled. You feel that fate is toying with you. Letting you see through the eyes of your soulmate, but not letting you hear the exact things that would make you able to find out who they are.

And just like every other dream you’ve had previously, right before your soulmate is about to introduce himself, you wake up, startled and covered in a cold sweat. You glance down and inspect your body, making sure it is yours you are back in. You sigh heavily and lay back down against the pillows glancing up at the ceiling. So far you knew very few things about your soulmate.

1. He was obviously in amazing shape. In one of your dreams one of the other guys had lifted your shirt up and the crowd went wild. You glanced down in curiosity and were pleasantly surprised by the amount of muscle that was on your body.

2. He was obviously a singer or performer of some sort. And was in a group with 6 other guys.

3. He was Korean. You couldn’t understand anything that they were saying but you had googled a few words you thought you had heard and discovered that they were in Korean.

4. He was loved and adored by many. The group must be popular if they are performing on front of this many people.

5. Finding him was probably going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.

Googling the hair colors of the other members had yielded many search results. Apparently lots of idols had dyed their hair purple. And a few others had dimples as well. You weren’t able to fully see the other members. Most of their faces were blurred out except for the few features the dreams allowed you to see. These must be the ones that stood out to your soulmate the most, or that he particularly cherished about them. You were at least fairly confident that your soulmate was in a kpop group. A very popular one at that. But you could never tell what country they were touring in so you had no way of even narrowing it down by which city they were in.

Your phone alarm suddenly went off, signaling that it was time for you to get up and go to your office and meet with your publisher about the release date for your latest story. It was a tale of two soulmates, their only connection being through their dreams. And you gave the main characters a happy ending in hopes that it would allow fate to give you both the same kindness.

Jungkook woke up startled. He shot out of bed with his eyes wide and heart racing. He got out of bed in an attempt to ground himself. His feet touched the plush carpet of the hotel room. The feeling helped center him in reality. He walked towards the mirror and turned on the light, seeing his own reflection staring back at him was a comfort. He turned the handle on the faucet and let the water run until it was ice cold before splashing it on his face. When he glanced back up, his hyung was staring at him in the mirror.

“Did you have that dream again?”

“Yeah. Same one. Actually, well this time it was different. I don’t know it’s hard to explain. I finally got to meet her. Instead of the usual where it’s me trying to figure out clues on how to find her. But her face was blurred. I couldn’t make out any defining features. But goodness when I was finally able to hug her it was like every worry or concern I had just melted away. I really want to find her but I don’t know how and it’s so frustrating! I’m living out the main character’s lives in her novels and this one is literally our story. She gave them a happy ending, so I can only hope the same happens for us.” Jungkook’s voice cracks at the end and he’s immediately enveloped in a hug. “It’s so frustrating, Jimin. I have all these clues but no idea where to even go with this.”

“It’s okay, Jungkookie. I know you two will find each other some day. Soulmates always do. Let’s go over again when you know so far?”

“She writes novels. She lives in a big city somewhere. She speaks English. Normally the books she writes are fantasy ones but this one was realistic. I think it’s her way of helping me find her maybe? Like maybe if I look up the plot line of this next novel I can find her.”

“So start there then!”

“I know a lot of English now since I have been studying but I don’t know how to look up this plot line.”

“Maybe just look up new books about soulmates and dreams? See whichever article looks to be the most recent?”

“I’m sure many people have written about this before, hyung.”

“True. But your situation is unique. You’re famous. Surely she knows this from the dreams she’s probably had about being on stage from your point of view. You just need to find one with the plot centered around that.”

“That’s... actually a very good idea. Thank you, Jiminie.”

“Jiminie hyung to you. And you’re welcome! Now come on it’s still early. Go back to sleep for a little bit we have to prepare for the first date of our world tour tomorrow! We’re gonna have to be up in a couple hours.” Jungkook groans at this.

“How am I supposed to sleep when the possibility of me meeting my soulmate is so close?!”

“Just figure out a way. You can look for her tomorrow. Right now you need sleep. We don’t want you passing out on stage, so come on now!” Jimin shoves him out the door and Jungkook reluctantly crawls back into bed. Jimin walks to the door that connects their two rooms. “I’ll try to look for you tomorrow too when I have time, okay? That can be our focus after rehearsal is done.”

“Okay. Thank you, hyung.”

“Of course.”

Jimin shuts the door and all is quiet. Jungkook tries to sleep. Really he does. But really, he’s potentially one Internet search away from finding you.

Resist the temptation, Kook. You can do it. Be strong!

He rolls over onto his side and gazes out the window... Then promptly turns back around and grabs his phone off the hotel nightstand and does a quick search for the plot line of your book. An article comes up so he clicks on it. He sees that your book is being released in just a few short days! And as fate would have it, one of the signings just so happens to be in the same city as one of his concerts. It has to be you. There is no doubt in his mind. You have the same hair and build as the girl in his dream. He clicks play on a video where you are being interviewed about your own book.

“It’s actually my own story. Well, although mine isn’t finished yet. I see things that my soulmate does through my dreams. He is actually someone famous in a boy group. I know he’s Korean. But that’s about it. I’m hoping through this book he’ll be able to find me, since it’s our story...” You go on to talk more but Jungkook cannot hear it over the pounding heart beat in his own ears. It’s you! It’s really you! He shouts happily and begins flailing about in the bed when suddenly the door is swung open, and a very grumpy looking Jimin is standing in the doorway.

“Jungkook, what on earth-”

“I found her, hyung! Her name is y/n! Look!” He practically shoves the phone in his face and Jimin has to back away to let his eyes focus before they widen in shock.

“Oh my god! You really did! This is amazing! And look one of her book signings is the same day as our tour date! Kook! You’re going to meet your soulmate in just a few days!” Jimin tackles him onto the bed and rolls over next to him, looking fondly at the maknae as he’s endlessly scrolling through your social media, watching your interviews, and reading up on what he can about you.

“She’s beautiful, Jimin. And everything I could have imagined and more. Oh my goodness look at how many books she’s written she must be so smart and creative. And listen to her laugh!” He goes on like that absolutely gushing over you. “I’m going to message her.”

“No! Jungkook, don’t.”

“Why not? I’m positive it is her.”

“Don’t you think it’ll be more meaningful to have your first interaction be in person? You can just show up at her book sign and boom! There you go. Couple of the year. Couple of the century. I wonder what’s your couple name going to be.”

“Jimin you sound just as excited about this as me.”

“Because I am! Our little Jungkookie is finally going to meet his soulmate. But seriously now it’s time for bed. You gotta be up in 2 hours now so at least try to get some sleep.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Night, Kook. Sweet dreams.”

“Oh I have a feeling from now on they will be.”

**The day of the concert and book signing**

You’re on the way to your fan meeting when suddenly a billboard and flash of purple hair catches your eye.

BTS to perform at the stadium tonight at 7pm!

“Stadium? Wait a minute.. The purple hair.. the silver... His eyes. Oh my god!” You run up to the billboard to get a closer look but by the time you get closet it’s changed to a different advertisement. You sigh heavily, pulling out your phone ready to snap a photo the next time it scrolls by. When it does you take a photo and closely inspect it.

“Oh my god I am an idiot. How did I not notice this sooner! My soulmate is in BTS. Holy shit.” You gaze at all of their faces until you see one you’ve never seen any defining features of in your dreams. “That must be him. Jungkook? Oh he’s so cute oh my god.” You pull out your phone and lose yourself in the searches, watching interviews, looking at pictures, watching a music video. “They are so insanely talented it’s not fair and oh! Look at these photos of him when they debuted! What a little cutie I wanna squish his cheeks.” Your fawning is interrupted when a call comes in from your publisher. You glance at the time and realize you are late to your own book signing.

“Shit. I’m so sorry! I got side tracked but I am on my way!”

“You better hurry up y/n! There’s a ton of people here right now! What on earth were you doing?”

“I found my soulmate! Jungkook!”

“I’m sorry what? Did you say Jungkook, like BTS Jungkook?”

“Yes! Do you know them?”

“I’ve been a fan of theirs for years. I’m actually going to their show tonight. My friend bailed on me last minute so I have an extra ticket if you want to go with-”

“Yes! 100 times yes, please take me with you!”

“Ok ok! You can come with me just.. how are you planning on finding him?”

“....”

“Y/n? You still there?”

“Sorry. Just thinking. I didn’t plan that far ahead. They’re basically untouchable how on earth am I going to ever meet him?”

“Oh come on y/n. I’m sure fate wouldn’t be that cruel to you! Have a little faith.”

“I’m not going to get my hopes up. I think for now I will just be content with admiring him from afar. Anyway I gotta go. I’m approaching the building now. Bye.” You end the call and your heart sinks. You have no chance of meeting him. You’re from different countries. He’s in arguably the biggest band in the world. You probably can’t get within 10 feet of them without getting tackled to the ground by their security. And besides he’d probably just think you were some crazy delusional fan. You feel disappointment and sadness threatening to spill out as tears, but quickly shove it back down as you see the line of your own fans waiting to meet you. You plaster a smile on your face and enter through the back, sitting down at the table and just hoping this time will pass by quickly so you can go home and sulk before the concert.

As the line begins to dwindle you notice a gentleman at the very back of he line. He’s dressed rather casually, in sweat pants and a huge Carharttt t-shirt. You admire the tattoos on his arm and wonder what the meaning is behind them. He’s wearing a bucket hat and sunglasses, and a face mask, clearly not wanting to be noticed. Either that or he was an axe murderer come to make you face your doom. You laugh internally and quickly shake that thought away. You always did have an overactive imagination after all, you are a writer. When he finally approaches the table you can’t help but feel a weird fluttering in your stomach. Like your gut is trying to tell you something. You are uneasy and aren’t sure why. He seems to be feeling the same if the way he’s constantly looking over his shoulder around him is any indication.

“You’re not some serial killer here to make me meet my untimely demise are you?”

“W-what? No! What the hell? Why on earth would you think that?” You can’t help but find his accent adorable.

“Gee, I don’t know! Maybe because clearly you don’t want anyone to know your identity! Easy for a quick getaway if no one knows who you are. And you keep glancing around all suspicious to see if people are watching you.” You lift your eyebrow and give him an accusatory glare,

“If I didn’t want to be identified in a crime I would have covered my tattoos.” He lifts and eyebrow at you back, as if to challenge you further.

“That’s a fair point. You got me there.” He starts giggling and says something in Korean. Your heart goes flying into your throat as the realization hits you.

“I don’t want anyone to see me because I don’t want to get mobbed by my own fans. And I’m nervous because wow you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” He lowers the mask for a second and you gasp audibly.

“It’s you! The guy from my dreams!”

“You use that line often?”

“Oh my god shut up. It’s really you?!” You stand up from the table and reach your hands across it, squishing his cheeks between your hands.

“What are you doing, weirdo?” You can barely make out what he’s saying as it’s muffled due to your playing and pinching his cheeks.

“Making sure you’re real and that I’m not dreaming again. How did you find me? How are you here right now, isn’t your show starting soon? Oh my publicist is gonna flip her shit when she sees you here-” He covers your mouth with his hand and tells you to shh, lifting his mask back up to cover his face.

“I said I didn’t want to be recognized remember?” Your eyes widen and you nod your head. He lowers his hand, and you can tell he’s smiling brightly at you by how his eyes are crinkling at the corners. “Hi. I’m Jungkook.” He holds his hand out and you smack it away, opting to run around the side of the table and throw your arms around him instead.

“I think we’re a little past handshakes.” His arms tighten around you and you rest your head against his chest, enjoying the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat thudding in his chest against your ear. You sigh happily and feel a kiss pressed to the top of your head. You glance back up at him and see his mask is gone again. And he’s absolutely beaming at you.

“You have the most adorable smile I’ve ever seen.” You don’t mean to speak this out loud but figure you must have by the way his cheeks are flushing bright red.

“Um, T-thank you. I like yours too. And your eyes. And your voice and just... everything.” Now it’s your turn to blush. You glance away from him and notice that everyone has cleared out of the store, seemingly went about their business to give you two a moment of privacy. “So, I was wondering. Do you want to come to our show tonight?”

“Oh! My publicist actually already got us tickets!”

“But I’m sure they’re not front row, huh?”

“Well.. no they certainly aren’t but-” He pulls two tickets out of his jacket pocket and hands them to you. “Here. I look forward to seeing you tonight. I’ll put on an extra good performance just for you.” He winks and ruffles your hair playfully and a giggle bubbles out of you.

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

“We’ll be there!” You hear her yell from somewhere in the the store. You both laugh at that and you notice him staring at your lips. He starts to move in before you give him a playful tap on the lips with your finger tips. He looks at you in surprise.

“You at least have to take me on a date first before you get to steal a kiss from me, Mr. Jeon. Just because you’re my soul mate doesn’t mean you get special privileges.” He smiles and rubs the back of his neck.

“Well.. how about after the concert then? We usually all go out for dinner anyway but we can go out just the two of us.”

“I would really like that.”

“Okay then. I’ll um.. see you in a few hours then?”

“Oh you’ll see me alright. And you’ll probably hear me too. I’ll be screaming my lungs out yelling your name.” He chuckles and brings your hand up to his lips as he kisses the back of it and holy- his lips are so soft it makes you nearly take back your words from just moments before, thinking about how they would feel on yours.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too. I’m looking forward to everything. Finally getting to know you, and talk to you, I want to know everything about what makes you the kind, sweet person you are.”

“We have time. All the time in the world.”

“I can’t think of any better way to spend it.”

#bts reaction #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook reaction #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #reader x jungkook #bts soulmae au

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farfromsugafanfic · 4 years ago

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Heartbreak Weather

Genre: Weatherman!Jin, Metropolis/loosely based off comic books, Rivalry, soft Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jin/Male Reader

Warnings: all the sexual tension lol, hurricanes

Synopsis: The rival weatherman at Channel 5 just so happens to be Kim Seokjin who you just so happened to have had a thing with in college. Sort of. When a hurricane brings the two of you back together again, the forecast calls for love and dredged up feelings.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Will you please turn that off?" you asked, taking a sip of your coffee. Normally, you took it with a little vanilla-flavored creamer, but much like that morning's coffee, you were bitter.

"Aw, why? Seokjin looks so cute in his turtleneck this morning," one of the writers said, fawning over the Channel 5 weatherman. "Maybe you should start wearing turtlenecks. It might boost our ratings."

You rolled your eyes as the red light came on indicating that you would soon be on camera. You set your coffee to the side and stepped in front of the green screen.

"Good morning, Metropolis," you said. "You can expect some light rain on your commute today. It should clear up by lunchtime though and it will be partly cloudy for the rest of the day. You watched as the map viewers saw at home shifted as you shifted the topic. "As you know, a hurricane is forming a few hundred miles off the coast. We are currently predicting landfall early next week. I will be traveling to Diamond Beach as the storm approaches to give you the most recent updates. Thanks for watching Channel 4 News, now here's Andrea with traffic."

The red light switched from you and onto Andrea's camera on the other side of the studio. You let out a sigh and walked back to your desk away from the main set.

"You went to school with him, right?" the same writer asked, still watching Seokjin on the screen. His station gave him more screentime because he was so well loved in the city, often they pan to him coming back from commercial breaks and whenever there was a view question or poll.

"Yeah," you said. There was only one university near Metropolis that offered a robust meteorology program and most of the city's weather people came from it. You and Seokjin had gone through together, even graduating at the same ceremony.

"Wow, was he still so stunning in college? Like, I don't think I could've focused if he was in my classes."

"Depends on who you ask."

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

5 Years Earlier

"Having trouble focusing?" you asked Seokjin as you noticed his dark eyes were no longer looking down at the computer screen.

"Hmm, it's a bit hard when you look at the screen like that," he said, smirking and turning around to lean against the desk. "Tell me, what's a guy gotta do to get you to look at him like that?"

"Be a warm front." You watched as a warm front moved towards the city while a cold one moved simultaneously from the other direction.

"What if I'm a hot front?" He turned to face you, his hip still leaning against the desk, but his body was close enough that it brushed yours as he moved.

"Seokjin, stop." You clicked a few more times and turned to flip through your textbook. "It's a storm for sure. A thunderstorm or tornado. Shit, it could be anything, how are we supposed to figure this out."

"Its the weather, not heart surgery. We can be wrong fifty percent of the time and still good at our job."

"But, if we're wrong fifty percent of the time, we'll fail this class."

Jin sighed and crossed his arms as his eyes lingered down your body. "Listen, Y/N. We both know that you're going to stress about this for twenty minutes and then figure it out like you always do. Now, come on, let's take a break."

"And do what?" you asked, letting out a breath between your teeth, not tearing your eyes away from the screen.

"I don't know. I have a few ideas though" His breath was against your ear and his body heat radiated against your own.

"Seokjin, this can't happen."

"Why not?"

"Cause I need to focus on school. I'm here on a scholarship. I can't risk distractions."

Jin sighed and looked down at the weather map on the screen. "It's a thunderstorm," he said. "The currents aren't strong enough for a tornado and based on the patterns, its the most logical."

You quickly wrote down the answer and his reasoning, realizing that he was right. How he surmised the answer so quickly, especially when he was barely paying attention baffled you.

"All right, now, come on," he said. "I'm taking you out for lunch and you can't deny me that. I know you're hungry."

"Fine," you said, shutting your textbooks and allowing the computer's screensaver to come on.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Just hours later that same night, you found yourself looking up at the ceiling of Jin's bedroom. Soft cotton sheets wrapped around your torso and they felt softer than even the best sheets you'd ever owned. His shirtless form was turned away from you and you resisted the urge to reach up and run a hand through his dark hair. He'd let it grow long recently, the ends of his hair beginning to grow onto his neck.

"Stop staring at me," Seokjin said, you could hear the smirk in his voice. He turned around to face you. His eyes were calm and soft like the sheets, but you couldn't help but feel the sadness. The knowing.

"How'd you know?" Your voice was small.

"I could feel it. Your eyes hurt, you know?"

You did know. You knew how much it hurt Jin to see your eyes wander down the shape of his torso. That the way you always reached to push his ill-fitting glasses up the bridge of his nose hurt. That knowing he couldn't reach out and sneak his fingertips underneath the hem of your sweater.

"I'm sorry."

"I know, it's okay."

"It's not, Seokjin. We need to move on. Forget about each other. It's best for our futures."

"You know that's not true."

"Seokjin, we both want the same things in life. We'd be competing with each other for every job. We'd rush to get the story before the other. It wouldn't last."

"We don't know that unless we try."

"Seokjin, I don't want to give myself the chance to hate you."

You got up from the bed and buttoned your shirt, pulled on your trousers, and tied your shoes. Seokjin watched you, didn't try to stop you as you headed towards the door. Gripping the doorknob, you walked out and back down to the sidewalk below.

Following that day, you didn't see Seokjin again. Sure, he still sat a few rows in front of you, he still presented in class, you glanced over his name in the paper when it was announced he was taking over the weather position for Channel 5. You saw him on billboards and on Reddit posts. Yet, you never met allowed your eyes to meet his again. Unless it was through the warm, freshly printed Metropolis Daily.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Nearly no one was heading east towards Diamond Beach. Westbound traffic was full of cars heading into the city to weather the storm, while eastbound only consisted of a few cars. Mostly media and others who couldn't drop everything and run from the hurricane.

You could just make out the Channel 5 van ahead of you. Focusing down on your laptop which was tracking the conditions minute by minute, you tried not to focus on the fact you would likely run into Seokjin.

This certainly wasn't the first time a hurricane or tropical storm caused you and Seokjin to collide like convergent fronts. Every year you found yourself at Diamond Beach trying not to watch his broadcast from a few meters down the beach.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Two Hours Later

"Hello, this Y/N Y/L/N reporting for Channel 4 news. Hurricane Roke is expected to make landfall later tonight. Most of Diamond Beach and the surrounding areas have been evacuated as Roke is currently a category four storm. I will be monitoring the storm and providing updates through Twitter throughout the night and I'll be back on the beach at 5am. This has been Y/N Y/L/N covering Hurricane Roke. Now, back to the studio."

You felt Jin's eyes on you as you gave your report. He was about two hundred feet down the beach. He wore a similar coat to your own and even with his hood pulled up you could feel the way his eyes cut through you.

Once the red light on your camera went off, the one on Seokjin's came on and he began his report. It was nearly identical to yours, Seokjin adding his own flair and charm. Like you wished you could.

Seokjin finished his broadcast and your filmographer began to pack up. "I'll see you bright and early in the morning?" she asked, her hair catching in the wind and obscuring her face.

You nodded and helped her pack up the camera and other supplies, working quickly to prevent it from getting damaged from the wind or rain. Walking up the beach and back to the hotel felt like it took forever, especially with the heavy filming equipment.

Your filmographer had already checked in earlier and headed to her room, carrying the camera and filming equipment. You kept the portable meteorological tools, already anxious to set it up in your room. Jin and his filmographer came in just as you got to the front desk.

Giving them your name, you handed them your ID and the company credit card. The receptionist furrowed her brow and glanced up at you.

"It looks like your room was accidentally double booked," she said. "I apologize, but due to the current situation, would you mind sharing?"

"Uh, sure, that's no problem. Who am I sharing with?"

The woman squinted at her computer. "Kim Seokjin."

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"You're not even going to look at me?" Seokjin asked as the two of you set up your computers. He'd let you have the desk while he took the counter of the kitchenette.

"Not until I get this setup."

Seokjin sighed and pulled out his phone. Service was already finicky, but he managed to pull up Spotify and got music to play. It was soft, as not to disturb your neighbors in the packed hotel.

You smiled as you heard the familiar tune "Dancing Queen". Jin was a fan of older music and the two of you used to listen to ABBA's Greatest Hits when studying together.

"You still listen to this?"

"Of course," he said. "It makes me happy."

It made you happy too and when you finished setting up your computer you peaked out the window. The storm was still a couple of hours from landfall, but the trees were already swaying wildly.

"It's going to be a big one," Jin said, glancing at you and catching your eye. It was the first time you'd truly looked at each other since the day you'd left him on his own. It felt like a lightning bolt skewered you in half.

"Yeah," you said, sitting down on the bed. "It is."

You traced the seams of the comforter with your index finger. The song switched and this time it was "Can't Help Falling In Love With You".

Jin finished setting up his computer. Your screen and his looked nearly identical showing a map of the coastline and the storm approaching. He sat down beside you, closer than you would've thought an acquaintance would sit.

"We should go to bed. Early start tomorrow." His voice commanded you to look at him. "Let's not fight over the bed." Placing down the two extra pillows down the center of the bed, he went to the bathroom to change.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

The storm was in full force when you made your way outside. The four of you: you, Jin, and your two filmographers tried to get onto the beach, but the sand cut your skin. Various debris already littered the beach. Mostly seaweed and tree branches, although you noticed a few shoes and patio furniture from the nearby condos.

"The hotel said we could report from outside," you said. "It'd be safer."

Jin chewed on his cheek and glanced out at the beach. The two filmographers began to set up their cameras and you did you best to ensure your hair didn't fall into your face. You stood away from the wind, finding it hard to breath with it blowing onto your face.

"Seokjin! Stop!" His filmographer yelled, abandoning his equipment, he rushed towards the other man. You turned to see that Seokjin had taken off towards the beach, seemingly want to report from there no matter the circumstances.

You looked over at your coworker and she gave you a curt nod, ensuring that she would watch over the equipment. She dragged both cameras inside the lobby one at a time. Giving her an empathetic look, you took off running towards the beach, hoping to catch up with Seokjin before he got entirely soaked.

When you came to the edge of the beach, you saw that Seokjin was already halfway out, his filmographer not far behind. You sighed and continued out, knowing he was determined to give the report from as close to the middle of the storm as he could.

The filmographer neared the middle of the beach, fearing going any further. When you caught up to him, you stopped to catch your breath, even though it was nearly impossible with the wind. Your breath was swept away as soon as you drew it in.

"He's crazy," the other man said. "I have no idea why he's doing this."

"He always has to go the extra mile," you said, rolling your eyes. "Even if it's stupid and dangerous."

Seokjin turned back to look for his camera operator, only to see him halted halfway up the beach. Seokjin was three-quarters of the way up the beach now, reaching dangerously close to the rough tide. He noticed you still running towards him and smiled before a gust of wind knocked him off his feet.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Your chest constricted when you saw Jin get thrown off his feet. He landed a few feet away in the sand. You ran as quickly as you could, falling to your knees beside him.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking him over.

His eyes looked up at you, obviously taking in your features. Yet, his lips said nothing.

"You crazy bastard! What the hell were you thinking? Rushing out here like that? You of all people should know how dangerous that is." You could barely catch your breath between words as you placed your hands on his arms to help him sit up. He didn't budge, however, his eyes just locked on your face.

"What are you doing?" you asked, sighing and dropping your hands from his hands, looking down to meet his eyes for the first time.

He smiled when you finally met his eyes and leaned up to connect his lips to yours. It was brief due to the circumstances, but it felt like lightning coursing through your veins.

"I ran cause I knew you would chase me."

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arch-venus25 · 4 years ago

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The Head and the Heart, Part 1

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go...

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2770

Part One: Faced with Foolishness

“Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.

“Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.

“So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.

“Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”

“And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.

“Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.

“I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.

“Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.

Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.

She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.

“Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.

Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.

Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.

Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.

She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.

Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.

Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.

“Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.

“Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.

Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.

“If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.

“But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.

“You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”

Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.

Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.

For better or worse, they were sisters.

Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.

“Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.

“Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.

“John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.

She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.

This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.

Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.

“Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”

“Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.

“Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.

Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.

Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.

Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.

Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.

“Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.

“So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”

“Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.

Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.

“Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.

“How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.

“Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.

“Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you! I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn

#landlord vampire fic frenzy #twinning vs vamps #arch-venus25 writes

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icysab · 3 years ago

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hello 'n good mornin! can i request a match up for bts? if so, heres a lil bit about me:

im an INTP for reference, and i usually seem cold and quiet on the outside, however i am actually caring, energetic and warm. i enjoy competing, play fighting, and anything to do with the arts. i also really love music. my ideal dates are staying inside the house, sleepover, and watching a movie w cuddling. my favorite color is yellow, and i really like oversized grunge styles. i also really love cooking and baking, and im a cat lover and love animals in general. my favorite trope is usually rivals to lovers however i really love the "we are soulmates in another life/maybe in another life we can be together/forbidden love" trope. i very much hate hypocrisy, racism, sexism, or anything alike, and very much stand my ground for hatred when it comes to anything like that.

srry if this is too much! i just kept thinking the more the better

@inubabe

i match you up with…

bts’s yoongi!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

as one of the top idols in the industry, there was no shortage of your success. you had recently released a new single, titled “sunrise”. it seemed like all your hard work was finally rewarded when it reached no. 78 on the billboard hot 100, going down in history as the fourth highest charting single by a korean soloist. you had poured your heart and soul into that song, and it had all paid off.

that is, until min yoongi released a solo mixtape titled “d-2”, containing a song, “daechwita”, that managed to reach no. 76 on the billboard hot 100, pushing you down to fifth.

to say that you were frustrated was an understatement.

it seemed like no matter what you did, you were constantly upstaged by none other than min yoongi.

you could release the best single of the decade, freaking century even, just for him to pull off something even better and grander. it was almost as if he had something against your success.

you sigh, sitting on the floor of the dance room allocated for you at the hybe building.

it’s not like you couldn’t confront yoongi, and ask him why he’s always trying to one up you. you both work under hybe, and you have his number and know where his studio is, and even if you would never consider it as such, some may see you as company friends.

but he’s your biggest rival, your enemy in the music industry, your kryptonite.

in what you’d define as a lapse in judgment, you jump up from your spot on the floor and briskly walk over to genius lab before you get a chance to chicken out.

what if he isn’t even there??

your mind is racing.

you really didn’t think this through.

carefully, as if you finally realized what you’re doing, you knock on the door to his studio.

your knock is answered with a grisly “come in,” from yoongi you’re sure.

you open the door, and step in with as much confidence as you can muster.

“hey, what’s u-“

“do you have something against me?” you stare at him blankly.

“why would you even think that? we barely even know each other,” he asks, nose scrunching up in confusion.

you begin to panic. you knew this was a dumb idea. oh gosh, he probably thinks you’re crazy.

“well it’s just that,,, every time i release a song you release something even better, always charting higher than mine. it feels like you’re trying to diminish my success”, you quickly sputter out.

he laughs a bit, causing you to panic even more. he catches the worried look on your face and quickly explains, “actually, it’s quite the opposite. im a big fan of yours, and i was just trying to get you to notice me,” he smiles. “i never was trying to screw you over, i promise!”

your mouth falls into an O. yoongi’s a fan of yours??

“in fact,” he continues, “in addition to the respect i have for your music, i think you’re very pretty and cool, and i’d love to take you out for dinner sometimes if you’d be okay with that”.

you’re in shock. all this time, you thought he disliked you. turns out you were grossly mistaken.

“i’d love to,” you say, because how can you turn down dinner with the one and only min yoongi??

“great,” he grins. “it’s a date”.

playlist!

daechwita- agust d

okay of COURSE i have to start this playlist off with the song that is a key point in this lil drabble hehe

seoul- rm

i cant really cant explain it ughh, just the vibes. the “i hate you, i love you” part of the lyrics was a significant reason why i picked it lololol.

bad idea!- girl in red

while this matchup isn’t necessarily enemies to lovers, it definitely channels some of those feels. and i think bad idea! is one of the absolute best enemies to lovers feels songs.

remember my name- mitski

this song definitely makes me think of you and yoongis relationship. there’s a certain independence, especially where it comes to your reputation and legacy as an idol. you want your name to be remembered, to go down in history. (but you still want his love)

anpanman- bts

okay once again UGH i’m having so much trouble explaining why i picked this song but it just feels like a v powerful song (??) and as 2 incredibly successful idols, y’all are like the biggest power couple of the century.

i had so much fun with this matchup!!! thanks so much for requesting it :]]] i hope i did it justice!!

wanna request a matchup? here are the rules!

#i have such a soft spot for d-2 era yoongi #i hope i did the rivals to lovers trope justice <3 #yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts #asks open #sabs matchups <3 #kpop matchups #daechwita #teehee i had so much fun writing this

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xbaepsae · 4 years ago

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the ebb and flow | part one

“But you do know that it’s possible for a child of wisdom and a child of the sea to be amicable. Maybe even be more than that. However, at the end of the day, it’s really just because of you and Jeongguk.”

[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]

genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au

word count: 2.2k

rating: pg-13

warnings: language, character tension lol

a/n: ahhh. today’s our baby bun’s birthday + dynamite is number one on billboard, so you know i had to deliver something! for a while now, i’ve wanted to start a drabble series (especially since i always feel pressured to write longer 10k+ fics). also, i love pjo so, so much. this idea has been on my mind for a while now, so i really hope you all enjoy! i can’t wait for you guys to read the next parts :) xoxo

→ series masterlist!

the fifth summer - in which you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place

Perhaps, challenging Cabin Three to an impromptu capture the flag game had been a bad idea from the start. However, you fully blame their head counselor for egging you on in the first place.

If Jeon Jeongguk would just learn to keep his damn mouth shut, maybe you wouldn’t have felt the need to defend yourself. The only reason you challenged Poseidon’s cabin in the first place was because he called your battle strategy weak. Thinking about it now, you honestly don’t recall how the conversation even got to that subject—after all, you and Jeongguk argued a lot most days—but you knew he was wrong.

How could you—a daughter of Athena—have weak battle strategy? The idea was absolutely absurd. Your mother was the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy; and as a child who literally sprung forth from her brain, you inherited every drop of her skills.

While you admit that the son of Poseidon is probably one of the more capable demigods here—though you’ll never dare say it to his face—he’s also arrogant, and arrogance never wins in a game of pure strategy. Thus, in the five summers you both have attended Camp Half-Blood, you’ve won more capture the flag games than Jeongguk has. Maybe he forgot that little fact.

“Are you sure you want to lose again, Jeon?” you asked him, a smirk stretched across your lips.

“I think you’ll be the one losing today, miss goody-two-shoes.”

Unfortunately, neither of you managed a victory this time because a certain someone from Apollo’s cabin spilled the beans to Chiron. You don’t even know how Jung Hoseok found out about the game, probably from one of those sneaky Hermes kids, but you were going to—

“Y/n, I expected better from you.”

You freeze up at the disappointed look on Chiron’s face. Although your pride is wounded, you know he’s right—you’ve always been a top-notch camper, which is why you’re head counselor of your cabin. However, when Jeongguk gets involved, you just can’t seem to think clearly. Beside you, you hear the devil himself break into laughter. He attempts to hide it as a cough, but Chiron doesn’t buy it and shoots him a glare.

“Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook either, Jeongguk.” The boy sobers up. “You both know better.”

“Sorry, Chiron,” the apology simultaneously slips past both your lips.

The centaur sighs. “It was quite reckless to get both your cabins involved like that. It’s only the first full week of summer, and things are already this bad?”

You know he’s referring to the first time you and Jeongguk butted heads together. It was your second summer, and Jeongguk accidentally shot a canon of water in your face while you were practicing your archery. Your natural reaction was to shoot an arrow back at him. Obviously, you both got a mouthful from Mr. D afterwards.

Since then, as each summer’s gone by, it’s been little things—like tripping each other, spilling food on each other, causing the other to lose at games. This impromptu capture the flag is probably the worst thing you’ve both decided to do.

“I promise it won’t happen again,” you speak up, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Can you?” Chiron lifts a brow.

Suddenly, Jeongguk nods. “Yeah, I sure can. Because it was y/n’s idea in the first place—”

“Only because you made me do it!” you interrupt, facing him now. “It’s always you and your cocky attitude that gets us in trouble.”

“Well, what about your pride, huh? You’re too damn prideful to admit that you. Can. Be. Wrong,” he spats. “Have you thought about that?”

You are riled up; you can feel your body shaking. “I’m never wrong, Jeon Jeongguk.”

“I think that’s enough, you two.”

Taking a step back, you release a deep exhale and turn to face Chiron again. “Sorry…again.”

He just waves your words away and clears his throat. “I will let this incident go”—your ears perk up at that— “only if you two serve a punishment.”

Your stomach drops at his words. In all of your years here, you’ve never done anything bad enough to warrant a punishment. You’ve seen plenty of younger campers receive penalties in the past, but you’re eighteen now and the thought of having to do something embarrassing in front of the entire camp makes you nauseous. No one would let you live that down.

“How about cleaning the Pegasus stalls for a week?”

“A week?” you exasperate. Cleaning stalls was much better than doing something during the campfire, that’s for sure. But still—a week is a long time. You have campers to take care of. “I don’t have a week to spare just to clean—”

“Okay,” Chiron interrupts. “We’ll make it two.”

Jeongguk shoots you a death glare, but you can’t help the next words that tumble past your lips.

“But isn’t Taehyung in charge of the stables?” You refer to the son of Zeus. “Why the—”

“Should I make it a whole month?”

“Two weeks is perfect,” Jeongguk grits through his teeth.

“Okay, I expect you both to be at the stables sharp and early tomorrow morning then,” Chiron smiles. “Just be glad Dionysus isn’t here this week or you both would’ve had worse punishments.”

After he dismisses you both, you begrudgingly follow Jeongguk out of the Big House. By this point, it’s almost dinnertime and you really should make sure everyone in your cabin is already at the dining pavilion. As you’re lost in thought about what to eat for dinner tonight, Jeongguk suddenly turns around and forces you to stop in your tracks.

“Thanks a lot,” he practically spits out venom. “Your big mouth gave us an extra week with the Pegasi.”

“Looks who’s talking,” you frown. “You have the biggest mouth there is.”

“At least I know when to shut up,” he retorts. “Now, we have to clean the stables every damn morning.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t act like I actually want to spend more time with you than I already do, Jeon.”

Bypassing him, you ignore his grunts of protest and make your way to Cabin Six. Outside of the gray building, you already see some of your half-siblings making their way to dinner. You greet a few of them, but they’re not who you’re looking for. Walking inside the cabin, you search the stacks of the books and finally find who you’re searching for. As if he knows you’re staring at him, he looks in your direction. “Hey.”

“Hey, Namjoon,” you wave at him.

He sets the book he’s holding down and begins walking towards you. “How did the meeting with Chiron go?”

“Oh,” you awkwardly scratch the back of your head. “Jeongguk and I have to clean the Pegasi stables for two weeks.”

Namjoon scrunches his nose at that. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Tell me about,” you sigh, and then look him in the eyes. “Because of that, would you mind helping me with counselor duties these next few weeks?”

“Sure,” he shrugs. “I mean, it can’t be that bad, right?”

You consider Kim Namjoon to be your second-in-command. As a son of Athena, he is equally as brilliant as you—if not more so—and is a natural born leader. And in all honesty, he could’ve been the head of the cabin; except, he didn’t want to. Something about how he’d rather spend his days doing more productive things.

“Yeah,” you nod, “just make sure everyone’s awake in time for breakfast—you know how some of the kids can be without proper nutrition—and morning activities.”

Namjoon seems to ponder this for a moment before agreeing and you both head off to the dining pavilion. You’re thankful that there’s someone like him in your cabin, that you two get to be technical half-siblings. Because it’s going to be a long next two weeks.

That night at dinner, as you’re drinking from the pavilion goblets, you feel a pair of eyes burn the back of your head. You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s from table three. Jeongguk’s predictable like that. And as you throw your food offerings into the fire and prepare for the nightly campfire, you never feel his gaze leave you.

***

A part of you wants to blame the fact that you hate Jeongguk so much on your mother’s rivalry with his dad.

Ever since Athena became the patron saint of Athens, you know she’s had issues with Poseidon. You don’t know why—olives are so much better than a salty water spring anyway. But you do know that it’s possible for a child of wisdom and a child of the sea to be amicable. Maybe even be more than that.

However, at the end of the day, it’s really just because of you and Jeongguk.

Ever since you were thirteen and started your first year at camp, you’ve hated him. What started off as a simple dislike became this thing where you can’t even stand to be in the same room as him. Every half-blood knows that you both are rivals, which is why you’ve never willingly been on the same capture the flag team or on a quest together. Not that you’d want to anyway.

Which is why it makes this punishment so terrible. You have no doubt Chiron knew exactly what he was doing.

Despite your repulsion towards the son of Poseidon, you wake up before the sunrises—which isn’t entirely unusual for you. But what is unusual is that you don’t even have time to pick up a book or look through your laptop. You already have somewhere to be.

After you pull on your orange t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts, you slip your sneakers on and make your way towards the stables. As you walk past the arena and volleyball courts, you’re surprised to see a few campers already walking around. A few of them give you curious glances, probably wondering why the head counselor of Athena’s cabin is outside at this hour; but you ignore their looks and continue marching ahead.

Once you make it to the stables, you already see Kim Taehyung unlocking the gate. He must hear you approaching because he turns around with a boxy smile on his face. “Good morning, y/n.”

You wonder how someone like him could be so cheery this early in the morning; on the surface, Taehyung appears rather nice—approachable, even. However, you know that he often has a storm brewing in his eyes. He isn’t afraid to zap people with lightning.

“Hey…”

“I’m so excited you and Jeongguk get to be here with the Pegasi. When Chiron told me about your p—I mean, when he mentioned that you guys would be helping, I thought it was very nice of him,” Taehyung finally unlocks the gate and beckons you to follow him.

Inside the stables, you notice that quite a few of the Pegasi are already awake and begging for attention. You pet one gently on the head, enjoying the soft hair underneath your fingers. Maybe this punishment wouldn’t be so bad.

“He wants to know if you have any carrots.”

Pulling your hand away, you realized you’re getting ahead of yourself. Looking towards the doorway, Jeongguk stands there with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. You know he’s referring to the Pegasus, and you forgot that he could communicate with equines.

“Oh good, you’re here Jeongguk,” Taehyung claps a little too enthusiastically. “That way I don’t have to explain everything twice.”

The son of Zeus explains what he does every morning and every evening, and everything seems easy enough. All you and Jeongguk have to do is clean and feed the Pegasi. Taehyung mentions that he’ll swing by during the week if you two need help, but you let him know that he doesn’t have to do that—everything’s pretty self-explanatory.

“Also, you don’t have to worry about letting them out,” Taehyung continues. “Campers come to ride them during the day, so they should be fine when it’s nighttime.”

After he shows you two where everything is, Taehyung leaves you with the key and two to get to work. By the time you and Jeongguk are done with everything, it feels like hours have surely gone by. Although the work itself is easy enough, there are more Pegasi than you realized.

“How the hell does Taehyung do all of this by himself?” you ask once you put your broom away. You don’t expect an answer, but Jeongguk gives you one anyway.

“He’s been doing this since he got here. I guess he really likes Pegasi.”

Turning to face Jeongguk, you don’t miss the way sweat beads along his forehead and how he uses the bottom of his orange shirt to wipe it away. Your eyes travel down to the exposed skin of his abdomen, drinking in the sight of his tan and toned body. Before he can realize you’ve been staring for a second too long, you’re already halfway out of the stable.

Did I just check out Jeongguk? No, you shake your head; you were just looking at what was in front of you. Besides, he was talking to you anyway. You were not admiring him at all.

“What time are we supposed to meet back here?” his voice catches you before you can get too far.

You stop and turn back around. “I guess before the campfire?”

Jeongguk nods at that, and you proceed to ignore him for the rest of the day. At least, until you both have to be at the stables again later.

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imjeralee · 4 years ago

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Request: Holiday (Part 1), Raihan x Reader

Requested by elisanice.

This was a pretty big request so I've had to split it up. The first part is essentially -

Summary: Raihan has 4 days off so you and Raihan go on holiday.

Whenever I write requests I end up feeling like its some sort of extension to Wallflower haha. Like when reader and Raihan are more advanced in their relationship...maybe when a few years have passed.

Format: Drabble/one (two-shot, potentially lol)

Notes: SFW

It was another peaceful day in your house in Hammerlocke when you hear the front door opening and you look up from the book you were reading to head over; you see your boyfriend at the doorway, removing his shoes.

“Welcome home!” you say excitedly as you dash towards him, and as he looks up, he greets you with a wide grin.

“Babe!” he exclaims, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you high in the air (but still being careful so you would not smack your head against the ceiling) before he spins you around in a circle.

This is usually how you greet your boyfriend when he comes home from work at the stadium but he seems to be in an elevated mood and you wonder if something’s happened.

“I have four days off,” he proceeds to tell you excitedly, “Let’s go on holiday.”

“Holiday?”

“Yeah,” he replies, “There are no scheduled matches until for two weeks and I wanna spend time with you.”

Your lip wobbles at once as you contemplate his words; true, Raihan could spend this precious time perfecting some battle strategies or training his pokemon to prepare for his next exhibition match with Leon but he wants to go with you on vacation so you appreciate the thought; wrapping your arms around his head, you snuggle him against your bosom and he chuckles when you let go to clasp his cheeks together, leaning over to smother him with kisses all over his cheeks and nose.

“C’mon, let’s look at plane tickets and hotels,” he murmurs with a grin.

With an enthusiastic nod and smile, Raihan lets you down and you head into the lounge where you both huddle on the couch over your Rotom phones with your feet up and your toes rubbing together as you look up information and details.

In a very short amount of time, you and Raihan have decided to book two return tickets to Unova; you’ll be staying at one of the popular resorts in Undella Town.

You’ve both always wanted to go and it would be good to venture out and see what it’s like in the region. Unfortunately, your credit card limit is too low to cover the price of the flights and resort for two people so it’s up to Raihan to complete the bookings which he’s more than happy to do so anyway.

You will handle the itinerary; it appears Nimbasa City will take up most your time since it’s so large and there are so many things to do. Raihan is a big shopper so there are many department stores he wants to visit. You will also attend one of the baseball games in the stadiums and you also recall there are Pokemon Musicals to watch so you book tickets for a showing in the late evening.

Due to the short notice, you’re taking a flight at dawn so you and Raihan pack as quickly and efficiently as you can before you head off to bed after a quick meal with your pokemon.

In a few hours, you wake up to make your way to Galar International Airport.

For you, it’s a bit of a challenge since you are so sleepy and the flight is quite long, and it doesn’t improve when you have arrived at Mistralton, you’re both feeling extremely weary so you make your way to Undella Town as hastily as possible; this is where the Corviknight taxi would really come in handy but unfortunately Unova and many other regions advocate flying on your own pokemon so you and Raihan have no choice but to fly on Flygon.

Whilst Raihan seats you snugly in front of him on his pokemon, he battles to stay awake for the brief flight whilst you snore and drool over his arm as he holds you tightly around the waist to stop you from falling off along the way.

Thankfully, the concierges at Mistralton airport will send your luggage to the resort in Undella Town for a fee which Raihan paid of course.

You eventually stir awake and you open your eyes to see Raihan and Flygon have taken you to the resort and you yawn and rub your eyes as Raihan slips off the dragon and hoists you up and into his arms.

You cling to him like a baby as he recalls Flygon and carries you up the steps with a grin; a bellboy comes running up to open the doors for you and Raihan enters the establishment, still with you snuggling against him.

“Is she okay?” one of the bellboys ask, but Raihan merely rubs your back soothingly.

“She’s just a little airsick.”

You are most certainly not but it seems Raihan enjoys carrying you like this, and in public too. Regardless, the early hour means there’s not a single soul in sight so he can get away with it.

He checks in at the front desk and the receptionist hands over the hotel room key and bids you both a warm welcome after she goes over the amenities which were already advertised on the website. Raihan also asks for a wakeup call in the afternoon.

“Have a great stay!” the receptionist exclaims once everything is accounted for, “Enjoy your honeymoon!”

As Raihan carries you towards the directions of the elevators, you groggily open your eyes. “Did she just say….honeymoon?”

“Yep. I told ‘em we’re on our honeymoon and we got upgraded at no extra cost.”

With widened eyes, Raihan carries you into the elevator as you splutter and go pink in the cheeks. He lets you down and once the lift arrives at your floor, you find the honeymoon suite hand-in-hand and Raihan unlocks it where you emit a gasp of awe at the luxuriousness of it all.

The room is huge! There’s a king-sized bed in the middle of the room facing the beach, the covers are sprinkled with rose petals with towels folded into swans. There is also a bottle of chilled champagne on the bedside table along with two glasses. To the left of the room is an outdoor area sectioned by glass and curtains controlled by electric remote control that leads to a jacuzzi and infinity pool.

“Holy shit, Rai!” you squawk, realizing your boyfriend has gone all out for you.

“Hehe, you like it?” he says with a grin.

“I love it!” you exclaim before you turn round to throw your arms around him tightly.

Raihan immediately plucks you off the ground again, scooping his large hands under your ass and you wrap your legs around his waist; leaning forwards, he presses his lips tightly against yours and walks you over to the bed where he drops you over the duvet and keeps you pinned to the mattress with his hands gripping your wrists before he attacks your cheeks, lips and neck with deep kisses, causing you to giggle.

As he peppers you with kisses, you turn your head to the side as he lets go of you and you glance up to see the massive TV to your right and the plushy couches. There is also a door that leads to the bathroom where a pristine, white marble tub sits in the middle lined with unlit candles.

You hoot with excitement, giddily pointing to the bath but Raihan takes your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him and his blue eyes meet yours for a brief second before he crushes his lips over yours once more.

You smile as you slide your arms around the back of his neck, kissing him passionately in return. Grinning against your mouth, Raihan begins trailing his lips down and over your collarbone and to your stomach, attempting to lift your shirt up; when he arrives at your pants, he’s keen to get you out of them until he hears a light snore from the back of your throat and he swerves his gaze back up to see that your eyes are closed, mouth half-open.

You’re fast asleep.

Raihan stops and blinks owlishly, before he smiles at you haplessly and lifts you gently into his arms; once you’re propped up in his lap, he peels back the covers and tucks you inside.

You have a long day ahead.

…

The ringing of the phone forces you to stir and you open your eyes only to be met with darkness - the curtains has been drawn - and Raihan is spooning you from behind on the bed.

You yawn, stretch and grasp blindly for the phone which should be placed on top of the bedside table, picking up the phone and bringing the receiver to your ear only for an automated voice telling you it’s the wake up call that was ordered.

“Rai…” you mutter as you put the phone down. “It’s time to get up…”

You hear him groaning incoherently behind you before he squeezes you tightly around the waist and buries his nose into your hair and neck. “Mmphh…”

Reaching behind you, you gently pat him on the arm and the side of his face. “C’mon…”

“Nmm…fine…” he finally pulls his face out of your neck and grabs your hand, and you both sit up in bed side-by-side, emitting huge yawns.

Nimbasa City is your destination today so after getting ready, you fly on your pokemon to the electric city.

In an effort not to be recognized, Raihan has changed into a casual, oversized hoodie with gaping pockets and matching baggy pants along with a white pair of sneakers. He thinks he’ll get spotted easily if he wears his statement orange headband so he swaps it for a black cap which he places neatly over his head though they do hold his dreadlocks down. He even dons a pair of expensive, designer shades in order to remain anonymous as possible.

When you go out with him, this is something you’re rather used to so you think nothing of it and once you arrive at the city, you stare at the huge and towering buildings that are lit up with huge billboards and adverts with all sorts of pokemon on them before you spot the ferris wheel and rollercoasters in the distance. It appears to be a complete entertainment zone itself which could even rival Wyndon.

You and Raihan walk around aimlessly for a few minutes or so just to get a feel of the area until Raihan spots the nearest department store.

“Let’s go,” he says, and you walk hand-in-hand towards the building; Raihan is quite the shopaholic compared to you.

In fact, you’re hardly into fashion and designer labels, what’s in season and what’s not. All you need is a pair of comfy shoes and sweater and you’d be fine.

The moment you step in and you realise it’s a totally different world inside and that it is rather high class; Raihan still blends in well with his height and the airy confidence he carries whereas you find yourself dawdling by his side, looking left and right and clearly not at home.

You feel the shop assistants can tell you are working class from your clothes, the dowdy bag you’re carrying and also the dirt on your shoes – you clearly cannot afford anything here and they wonder why you are here in the first instance. They regard you from head to toe along the way as you and Raihan check out some of the items for sale, oblivious to their judgemental stares.

“Isn’t that Raihan?” you hear one of the staff members muttering to themselves, “And is that his girlfriend?”

Despite the effort to blend in, you didn’t realise you and Raihan would still be recognizable. You stick by your boyfriend’s side as much as possible but he’s still oblivious to the growing whispers and murmurs that surround you. It’s possibly because he’s so used to the attention; whilst you notice a few girls staring at your direction inquisitively, Raihan busily looks through the clothing racks and barely bats an eyelid to them.

As you continue shopping, he tries on several hats and sunglasses and asks you how he looks whilst you merely show him a thumbs up. You have not been inside the store for an hour and Raihan has already purchased a few statement articles.

He’s got good taste and he has the money, whereas you obviously don’t so you’re left trailing after him as he picks out random hoodies and t-shirts and shirts and pants and trying them on and asking for your opinion along the way. The shopping bags begin to pile up and you help, balancing one in each hand and some hanging over the bend of your elbows.

You wonder if you will ever see something you like and it happens when you spot a few dresses along the way which are very pretty and as you stop to stare and subtly find the price tag, your eyes widen when you see that it costs eight hundred thousand pokedollars.….holy Furret…if that dress costs eight thundred thousand, you cannot fathom how much everything else here costs.

Raihan is loaded. You kind of knew Raihan was rich from his work and sponsors but you didn’t realise he was that filthy stinking rich!

With that money, you can think of many other items or things to do with that money… and you immediately let go of the dress to return to his side; Raihan grins as you linger by his side, staring longingly at the dress on display.

“What’s wrong? Did you like that dress?” he asks, noticing your glum expression.

“Yeah, but it’s way too expensive.”

“If you want anything, let me know. I’ll get it for you.”

You shake your head firmly. “No, it’s okay, Rai.”

He observes you carefully, noticing how you slide your gaze to your shoes, looking rather forlorn. “It’s okay, babe, I’ll get it for you. You really like it, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s way too pricey,” you shake your head adamantly when he doesn’t look convinced. “It’s fine, Rai, I don’t want it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah-“

“Raihan??? Raihan of Hammerlocke?!”

You cringe and you both turn round to see a small group of Unovian Lasses standing near you in the store, grinning giddily at your boyfriend. They’re all clutching pens and books in hand and you blink widely.

“Can we get your autograph?” one of asks.

Raihan blinks wide-eyed; he looks a little stuck, partially because you’re with him.

However, you give him a reassuring nudge and he’s quickly swarmed by the groups of girls who come charging forwards, waving their pens and booklets in the air and wanting his signature and photo. You hastily step backwards to let them through and your boyfriend is swarmed in seconds. It’s funny how tall he is as he towers over the majority of them.

Raihan glances at you and you playfully wave at him, “Have fun!” you mouth at him and he shoots you a helpless grin. You nod at him knowingly; you’re all too aware that this happens more often than necessary so you’re used to this and so is he.

You use this time to slink past and away and leave the store.

It’s about time you had some space for yourself to browse on your own so you find a new store called ‘Noir’; it appears to be cheaper and less high end than the other boutiques in this mall and you haven’t heard of this label before either but when you’re greeted warmly by the staff, you feel much, much better.

You respond to them with polite smiles, knowing they haven’t judged you in any way or manner, and you head to the women’s section, glancing around and looking at the shirts and dresses for sale; you know Raihan will take a while so you pick up some items that captures your eye – for instance, a black dress which is a tad cheaper than the other ones you saw in that other store – you also pick up a nice skirt and matching top…and it’s then you spot the most beautiful black leather jacket you have ever seen that is displayed on a dummy at the very middle of the section.

It’s a very eye-catching display and you stare for a few seconds or so before you wander over, your eyes drawn to the garment like a moth to a flame.

Circling round, you wonder if you’re even allowed to touch it so you glance left and right quickly before reaching over and rubbing your fingertips carefully over the black fabric. It’s better than you realized!!! So silky and soft and smooth! It’s love at first sight! It does exist after all!

Enamored, you head to another aisle where a few of the same leather jackets are put on display and see if you can check if you can see the price label and you’re kind of too embarrassed but all in all, you could be checking if it’s your size... You meticulously hunt for the jacket with your right size and pull it out of the rack, grasp the label gently and glance at the price.

Your eyes bulge.

Five hundred thousand pokedollars.

You gulp for you cannot justify the price so you let go of the price tag and take a few steps back until a pair of strong and sturdy arms wrap around you from behind and someone’s lips find the shell of your ear.

“Grrr ~ gotcha.”

It’s Raihan and you inwardly breathe a sigh of relief and giggle as he bites and nips at your ear playfully before he begins to nuzzle the side of your neck.

“Did you finish giving out autographs?” you ask, smiling widely as he presses deep kisses over your nape.

“Yeah,” he pauses to reply - he sounds tired - before he nibbles on your neck again.

“Poor baby,” you reach over to pat him on the head.

He grins in response, tightening his grip on you. “What’re those?” he murmurs, noticing you’re holding several items in hands.

“Oh, uh…nothing. I’m not going to buy these.”

“You can try them on at least.”

You ponder for a few seconds or so; Raihan’s right...you may as well. You got nothing to lose. You want to try something at least…

“Okay,” you agree, and you grab the jacket too for good measure.

Raihan guides you to the direction of the changing rooms where he waits outside with Rotom; you pull the curtain behind you and set out your selected items on the hooks provided before you get changed out of your own clothes.

You’ve chosen a black cocktail dress which you can wear should you and Raihan decide to go partying; Raihan likes to go partying a lot so party dresses like these are a must. You carefully slip into the dress to discover it’s a great fit – fits like a glove - and you gulp when you realise it’s love at first sight all over the again as you stand and look at your reflection in the mirror...what will Raihan think?

“Um…Rai?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m coming out now.”

“Okay.”

You take a deep breath, your heart thundering as you nervously peel back the curtains, stepping out of the cubicle and Raihan’s put away his phone to wait for you but you certainly weren’t expecting this kind of response.

His eyes widen briefly as he gets a good look at you, and you’re stunned yourself when you realise you have actually stolen his breath away because Raihan cannot take his eyes off you… and you swallow down the lump in your throat as his lips curl into a grin that almost reaches his ears.

“So…um…what do you think?”

He likes what he’s seeing, and you blush heavily and pull down on the bottom of your dress because somehow it feels a little too short now.

“It’s perfect,” he murmurs, rising off the couch to stand before he approaches you.

“I’m not gonna buy it though.”

His grin drops. “Why not?”

“Too expensive.”

You quickly rush back into the cubicle to get changed into the next items you picked out where you pretty much elicit the same reassuring response from Raihan but again, it’s way too over your budget so you have no choice but to put them to the side.

It’s finally the jacket’s turn and you feel your heart dropping heavily when you slide your arms through the rich and silky materials of the sleeves and pull the lapels together over your chest.

The jacket is so perfect and the material is so luxurious and beautiful and you put your hand to your mouth; you almost want to cry out in agony that you cannot afford such a gorgeous item and you’ve never seen anything like this for sale in any of the Galar’s boutiques. You try to think of the practicality of it all and realise it can be mixed and matched with so many different outfits – dresses, denims and white or grey shirts, sweaters, skirts…everything. If you had a choice, you would probably invest in this.

Regardless, you step out of the cubicle once more with the jacket for Raihan’s approval, and he grins and nods.

“Suits you,” he comments, and you smile to yourself as you glance at your reflection at the floor to ceiling mirror outside the cubicles; Raihan joins your side, peering over your shoulder and you realise you and Raihan make quite the good couple and it’s all thanks to the jacket and its wondrous durability. It also makes you look pretty badass. No-one would mess with you, that’s for sure.

You croak, “I really like this.”

Yet you sigh and take it off.

Raihan looks at you expectantly but you shake your head.

“It’s fine…”

As you plod towards the direction of the cubicle to grab your things, Raihan scoops the unwanted clothes into his arms.

“I’ll put these back for you.” He says, and you nod. “I’m also gonna pop to the restroom so…”

“It’s fine, I’ll just take another look around the shop.”

With plans in place, you and Raihan split ways; you leave the changing room and continue browsing through the clothing racks until you realise quite a while has passed and he hasn’t called you or messaged you. You hope nothing’s happened to him.

You’re about to leave the shop to head to the restroom area until you spot a familiar figure standing at the counter; it’s Raihan…? What is he doing here? He’s chatting to the sales assistant who’s pulling out bag after bag and plopping them over the counter. Has he bought something???

You head over quickly and stop by his side. “Rai?”

He sounds surprised by the sound of your voice and turns round before grinning widely at you. “Hey babe,”

“What’re you doing here? I was looking for you; I thought you went to the restroom.”

“Sorry, did I make you worry?”

You nod and he coos at you, reaching for you and bringing you into his embrace. “Ah…I’m so sorry, babe,”

You close your eyes, rubbing your cheek against his chest as the sales assistant piles up to six bags and begins to press her fingers rapidly over the cash register and the total comes up. Your eyes bulge but Raihan delves a hand into his pockets for his wallet and promptly pays.

He must have bought something for himself.

You’re done with the shopping spree, so you leave the store hand-in-hand and you wonder what he’s bought until your stomach gurgles loudly and unfortunately, Raihan hears.

He laughs and your cheeks redden thoroughly; you’re hungry so you head up to the top floor where all the restaurants are and after a brief search on Rotom, Raihan finds a highly-reviewed rooftop bar and restaurant where he asks for a seat with a good view of Nimbasa City.

You’re both directed to a booth in the corner with comfy sofas; the view is breathtaking and you stare in awe as you make your way up to the glass and peer at the horizon. It’s absolutely stunning; the lights in the city are so bright and vibrant...

And after you both settle down and order your food, Raihan places all the shopping bags on the spare seat and sighs, rubbing his temples. It’s been a long day but hell, you only managed to go shopping today.

As you wait for the food to arrive, you can’t help but wonder what he’s bought so you casually reach over and peep into one of the bags. Eyes wide, you see it is none other than the leather jacket you had tried on.

“Huh?” you gasp, and Raihan starts to chuckle.

“Do you like it?” he murmurs as you whip your head to him in shock.

“I…Rai, you…I didn’t know…you didn’t have to - !! Oh, babe…” you squeak out and as he chuckles louder, you leave your seat and head over to him.

You could hardly care less about the fact that you’re in public. You inch towards him with open arms and he reaches for you as well; Raihan pulls you into his chest, enveloping you into a tight hug. You settle yourself into his lap on the sofa as he draws you into his embrace before you snuggle into him affectionately, closing your eyes as he chuckles again and presses a kiss over your forehead.

“Rai, you really didn’t have to.”

“Think of it as a gift.”

“....Now I feel bad.”

“Don’t. You know I’ll always get anything you want,” he murmurs in your ear, and you smile widely in response.

Arceus, Raihan spoils you so, so much.

You let out a chuckle at this thought, wrapping your arms around him securely.

Part 1 - Holiday (end)

#raihan #kibana #pkmn #pokemon #pokemonshield #pokemonsword #pokemon shield and sword #reader #request #raihan x reader #Raihan x you #Raihan being a sugar daddy

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herradhighpriestess · 3 years ago

Text

Artificially Sweetened Sodomy

Chapter Seven: Who Are You?

The warmth of Tig’s large hand swallowing hers made her shiver involuntarily. Kari felt a wash of embarrassment at her physical reaction while Tig simultaneously felt a twinge in his cock at wanting her body under his, making her shudder and quake.

She tried to casually tug her hand free and pretend to smooth down her already smoothed down hair.

“You ready to go?” he breathed as she collected herself and nodded.

Tig opened the door. “Try to walk naturally,” he murmured as she walked towards him.

Kari couldn’t help but laugh loudly, “natural? Gotcha,” she snorted and rolled her eyes as she crossed the shitty room’s threshold and immediately felt like a fucking child.

Kari stiffened and tried not to goose step or look like she had a stick up her ass as she marched to the stolen van with a newly stolen set of license plates and the pried off VIN number tossed out the window earlier on the road.

Tig didn’t see any of her facial expressions or detect anything out of sync in her gait. He only had wide, unblinking crystalline blue eyes for the space between her upper thighs, sunshine peeking through as she walked away. He could’ve waterboarded himself with his own saliva as he restrained the desire to slide a hand up the inside of her thigh before he bent her over and fucked her.

As Tig shook himself back to reality and followed her to the van, still anticipating her trying to bolt, back in Charming, ATF agent June Stahl paced the small, rented hotel room. She had kicked her spiked heels under his desk and let the coarse fibers of the carpet tease her nylon-encased toes. June had Tig’s file spread across the floral surface of the bed linen, trying to find the man buried between the many charges that stuck and the ones that he had slipped away from.

June frowned at one of Tig’s menacing mug shots, she reread Kari’s academy entrance essay and following in the footsteps of her father and grandfather. As she opened a bottle of red wine she had purchased earlier, hours away, Tig tried to keep his eyes on the road and the endless miles of asphalt instead of on Kari’s profile and every bit of exposed skin.

He moved to the middle lane as he passed a big rig, his gaze lingering on the fabric of the linen pants pulled taut around her supple flesh. He watched the linen wrinkle as she leaned forward and fumbled with the radio dials until she landed on an easy-listening station.

Kari reached down the side of the seat and yanked on the plastic handle until the seat reclined. She fought an audible sigh as she stared out at the passing landscape of varying fruit trees and oil refineries.

Tig hated to take his eyes off her as traffic snarled with an upcoming exit impacted by roadwork.

He was staring a few cars ahead and trying to find a smoother moving lane when she reached out quickly and turned the radio off as she spoke. Kari was nervous and her voice was shriller than she intended, she cleared her throat before repeating herself.

“What kind of crimes have you committed?”

“That’s right to the point,” Tig smirked and accelerated when a spot opened up in the left lane before continuing. “Don’t you know? The ATF bitch all over the club has to have shared all our files with you, hasn’t she?”

Tig was genuinely surprised as Kari shook her head as she answered. “I transferred here not too long ago, Stahl keeps a lot to herself,” she added lowly and rubbed her temples.

“Are you okay?” he asked and laid a hand on top of her thigh, squeezing lightly.

Kari grew still and tried not to stare at the tip of his hand. “Just a headache, I need some coffee or any form of caffeine and a fifteen-hour nap.”

Tig looked at an upcoming rectangular billboard that boasted a popular coffee chain in the approaching shopping center.

He wordlessly moved to the slow lane which would eventually exit and dump them in front of the green-signed coffee house.

Tig parked further away than a Super Bowl winning quarterback could throw a pigskin, keeping the engine idling before he turned towards her. “There’s a drive-through there,” he started as he nodded towards the colorful menu and round speaker to shout your order.

Kari glanced over briefly before bringing her eyes back to meet his as he continued.

“You need to get in the back and stay out of sight,” Tig murmured, his tone growing empty and full of fatal seriousness as he slid a faded beer cap over his luscious hair, thick and glossy black as a raven’s pinfeathers.

Kari nodded and maneuvered between the small space between their seats until she could hunker down away from the shopping center’s surveillance that began just outside of where he had the van in neutral.

“What do you want?” Tig called back, her voice returning even though he couldn’t see her beautiful face in the rearview mirror, or her full lips form each word.

“A large, extra-foam, soy caramel macchiato,” came Kari’s voice from the rear of the van.

Tig shook his head at the multiple syllables that the word coffee had evolved into. He ordered her fancy drink in a staccato manner before adding a coffee-flavored coffee and random pastries to the order before driving to the window.

Kari heard him pass over money and collect his change before navigating the few turns until he had the vehicle back on the freeway and soon up to eighty-five.

“It’s safe for you to come back up here,” he called back to her once the rearview mirror reflected five lanes of freeway.

Kari made her way back to the passenger seat and gladly reached for the hot, sweetened, caramel drink.

She didn’t feel his eyes memorizing her as she took a slow sip, she didn’t see him tip into a state of entrancement when Tig’s eyes zeroed in on a touch of toffee-colored foam perched on her upper lip.

In the very moment before her pink tongue darted out and licked away the kiss of the latte foam, he was transfixed. Tig’s heart was momentarily paralyzed before adrenaline flooded his system. His chest tightened and for a second he forgot to breathe, emotions infiltrated his system and filled each cell until they threatened to burst. “I’ll do anything you ask to have you,” he thought as his gallbladder released bitter bile and the bottom dropped out of his gut as Kari looked over and caught him staring.

Tig’s eyes dilated as her sudden and full attention stimulated each of his ropy nerve endings.

“Did you say something?”

“Fuck, did I? Did I say that out loud?” he thought.

He nearly shouted his relief when his scrambling thoughts were given a reprieve by his phone chiming in rapid succession.

Tig yanked his eyes away from her as he fished his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the brief text message Clay had sent.

“Hale and Stahl in meeting w/attorney gen. at noon, keep moving.”

“Who sent that?” Kari asked, not half-expecting him to even entertain answering.

“From a brother, we’ll be on the road a while longer,” he said vaguely.

Kari took a few more sips of the toasty coffee before speaking. “How many people have you killed?”

Tig looked over, “a few,” he said easily.

Kari blew out a deep breath. “I know I said I didn’t read about your criminal past but don’t say bullshit like that.”

“How many do you think?” he countered.

“Forget it,” she scoffed and replaced her cup in the stained, plastic holder before turning her attention to the monotonous fields, pastures, and industrial buildings.

“More than the ATF knows about,” Tig finally said.

“What other kinds of crimes?” she asked, still watching the fluffy cumulous clouds high overhead.

“Nothing you’d approve of baby,” Tig chuckled and winked as he returned his hand to the top of her thigh.

Kari initially frowned and fought a flush as he dropped his eyes to the exposed skin of her chest before back to the traffic flowing around them.

They stayed in silence for a while after that as Kari pressed the volume button and brought the staticky pop song to fill the van.

Tig felt the tension swimming under the thin linen that covered her warm, supple skin. His mind let him fall back into a rabbit hole of remembering his crimes, from stabbing his first-grade classmate over a piece of carrot cake to slitting a rival club’s old lady throat after she swallowed his come before he went and found a sexy, willing, and wanting sweet butt to lick his cock clean later before he passed out on the pool table.

He frowned as he felt a stab of regret for needing to keep scaring her, keeping her on the razor’s edge. “Stop being such a fucking dick,” he scolded himself and reluctantly lifted his hand to lower the volume of the radio.

“Why’d you become an ATF agent?” Tig asked, knocking her off balance.

Kari was distracted enough by his question to let a little tension fall away. “My grandfather and dad both had thirty-year careers as agents.”

“Are your siblings also agents?”

“No, my sister is an attorney in Philadelphia.”

“You see her much?”

“Once a year usually, she flies out here for the holidays and visits the family up and down the coastline.”

Tig watched her reach for her half-empty cup in slow-motion, feeling a cold, trickly sensation tease his spinal cord from the base of his skull to the tip of his tailbone at the sight of her bare ring finger.

“No ex-husband or future Mr. Stillwater?” he asked with a wink as she switched her cup to her right hand and almost choked at his question.

Kari lifted her hand and covered a smile when Tig grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from her mouth.

“Why do you always cover your smile?”

Kari let him slide his fingers from her wrist to intertwine with hers. “It’s reflexive, I used to have really crooked teeth and only recently had those plastic trays that straighten your teeth.”

Tig hated that he had to pay attention to the road as he squeezed her hand. “Don’t ever cover any part of yourself from me,” he raggedly demanded.

Tig took his foot off the accelerator as they approached a CHP weigh station, a line of freightliners being inspected. He narrowed his eyes within their dark fringes of lashes as his mind tried to reimagine meeting Kari for the first time in a more casual setting, preferably where there was copious alcohol. He fantasized how he’d replay their first interaction where he’d tell her the barrel of his gun was bigger than hers, instead of choking her into unconsciousness and abducting her.

Kari’s voice broke his concentration. “Can we stop at a bathroom soon?”

Tig nodded, his thoughts still fuzzy with heady thoughts of stripping her bare and plunging his cock into her wet center until their intimate flesh kissed.

Kari nodded her thanks as he exited a few miles later and took a few left turns until he reached a state park with bathrooms that were accessible without purchasing a day pass.

Tig parked in front of the row of beige toilets behind bright green doors with the county logo and a large oak tree in the background.

They both climbed out of the van and Kari felt herself flinch involuntarily as Tig closed a large hand around her upper arm and pulled her towards the larger wheelchair-accessible bathroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he pulled open the door and began to tug her inside.

“I can’t trust you to be by yourself and I’m not up for chasing you down,” Tig murmured as he dragged his eyes slowly from the crown of her head to the tips of her shoes and back to meet her unblinking eyes.

Kari took a step back as he locked the door behind them, confining them and blocking the only way out.

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10millionyearsdungeon · 4 years ago

Text

His Girl Friday

So! Shindou-mas was upon us! In honor of our favorite supporting character, we have a sordid tale of personal assistants and a week in the life of the notorious hero Grand. As part of a mini-collab with a few lovely writers from the BNHarem server! ============================= “Your case files are on your desk, Grand. I took the liberty of filing them from oldest to new to help you catch up.”

Shindou sat behind his heavy oak desk and flashed you his most dazzling smile. His nimble fingers unbuttoned the top two buttons of his pale yellow shirt and ran absently along the tanned skin of his throat. You had only started working for the hero as his personal assistant for little over six weeks now. Your temp agency had pre-assigned you to his agency but wouldn't disclose the reason why they pulled you from your prior assignment in Nagasaki. Your eyes lingered a half-second too long before you swore his perfect, sun-rivaling smile grew predatory.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?" Your thighs shifted together beneath your pencil black pencil skirt and you hoped he didn't notice your squirming. He took the files you tirelessly worked over and shook his head.

"I think we're good, Y/n. Thank you."

You excused yourself from his office and beelined to the restroom. Splashing cool water on your face brought you back; you always suspected that your new boss was a flirt. Hell, he dictated his fan replies to you and his responses to the anonymous masses that elevated him up the Hero Billboards ranged from wholesome and sweet to downright lewd.

"He is your boss and this is just a job! We do not lust over our boss like some ill-mannered slut!" you scolded yourself in the mirror. With a huff and slightly better control over yourself you strode back to your desk and started on the next mountain of paperwork to fill out and catalog for your boss.

You felt like you had been working over reports and case data for backlogged cases for hours. A sharp buzz pulled you from your fastidious toil and the smooth, charming voice brought you back from data abstraction.

"Y/n, could you cancel my dinner reservations tonight? I'm afraid it's going to be a late night for everyone."

"Uh, yeah, sure thing."

"Oh, and call Tuesday in, would ya? You're the best."

The line went dead and you sat confused by his request...or maybe it was the heat that bubbled under your skin at his praise? Numbly, you opened his planner and hovered your mouse over the events for the day. "It's Monday. Why am I calling Tuesday's staffer in?" In your grumbling, you noted a tall, thin woman with soft blonde hair falling past her shoulders in cascading waves of spun gold stride past your desk. Wrapped in a tan trench-coat, her heels clacked softly on the polished floor of the agency. She always came on Monday, but you never thought anything of it. She didn't even spare you a glance as she pushed through the double doors and into Shindou's vast office. He greeted her with a wide sweep of arms and that obnoxiously gorgeous smile of his. The blonde woman giggled in his arms and sat herself across from his plush throne. Shindou made his way to the doors and shut them, flashing you a glimpse of that same hungry grin you swore you caught earlier.

With a raised brow, you shook your head and dialed the number affixed to the Tuesday staffer's sticky note on your planner app. Naturally, the call went to voicemail.

"Um...hey, this is Y/n from Grand Hero Agency. Grand is calling you in to work for the night. Thanks." Awkwardly, you hung up the phone and tuned the rest of the world out as you poured over your reports again. Your heart still hammered in your chest as you felt his eyes burning into you. Those harsh obsidian chips had a way of causing your brain to short circuit. Part of you wondered if that was a lesser known part of his famous quirk-- bringing women to the brink of stupidity with just his devastating grin? You sighed through your nose and pursed your lips at the report. Soft moans pulled you away from your work and you turned to the closed doors of his office.

Maybe you were mistaken. Your lip caught in your teeth, you strained to hear the conversation inside the office but there weren't any words. Another moan, louder this time, rattled the heavy doors of Grand's professional sanctuary. Blood rushed to your head and heat settled in your core. Spluttering over your desk, you squirmed in your seat and tried to imagine what depraved acts your boss was doing to pull those moans from his blonde companion.

Another girl, short and with a mess of red curls piled high on her head rushed through the department and stopped herself at your desk. Her chest heaved as she fought to catch her breath, sweat glistened down her pale, freckled collar bones. Even a mess she was a vision in olive green, and her eyes were pale ice chips set in porcelain. If the first woman was poured gold and refinement, this one was that one wild night in the pub wrapped in a pert little package.

"Don't tell me they started without me!"

"Ah! He's expecting you," you whimpered out in an attempt to hide your shame. The sprite bounced to the double doors in a huff and threw them open. The image of Shindou Yo's head nested between the slender, golden thighs of his blonde Monday staffer would be forever burned into your retinas. Her elegant head threw back against the plush leather of his office chaise and her long willowy fingers pulled through his jet hair as he coaxed another high keening moan from her glossy lips. The red headed newcomer held her hands on her hips and stood in the doorway. You drank in the scene and found yourself unable to pull away. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to look away and continue about your day but you just couldn't. Slack jaw and burning cheeks, you swallowed down your shame and sunk deeper into your chair only to feel his sharp, hungry eyes on you again. A silvery string of slick hung between his mouth and her glistening folds and the sight sent white-hot heat straight to your abdomen. Sinful smirk stretched across his handsome features, he dragged his tongue slowly along his slick-coated lips and waved the redhead over while he rubbed his golden goddess's thighs to help her come down from her high. With a pout the newcomer closed the doors behind her, leaving you in a puddle of your own desire.

You stepped away from your desk and began to make your way to the stairs. Air. I just need to get some air and then I can focus again. Heels in hand, you ran down the ten flights of stairs to the street level entrance. Your lungs burned with exertion, but the ten floors of steel and concrete between yourself and your boss only eased your unrest enough for you to think through the haze of your desire. His lascivious gaze stuck with you as you leaned against the cold glass lobby door.

It was hardly fair, the strain he put you under. He knew he was gorgeous, a literal god among humble mortals, and with his quirk he could have anyone he wanted. The longer you mulled over the implications of catering to the hero, the more lost you became. He knew what he did to you the longer he kept you on payroll. You could feel it when his eyes lingered on you whenever you brought him his decaf oat milk latte with extra espresso shot, or how he would gently vibrate his fingers against yours when you took his dictation. Your breathing slowed only to hitch at the thought of his tongue lashing at the dewy pearl between those bronzed thighs. What you wouldn't give to take her place sprawled out on that leather sofa carding your fingers through his jet hair as he nipped and sucked bruises into your thighs. Heat rose to your cheeks and suddenly the chill of evening was gone. Ignoring the gnawing, wet ache in your core, you sighed heavily through your nose. It started as a rumble through the foundation of the building and ended in a cascade of shattered glass with Shindou Yo triumphantly groaning his release into the skyline.

+++++

Wednesday marked the beginning of a new day with a new set of struggles. Grand would be out of the office, saving you the embarrassment of facing your boss at least one day this week. As you stretched and went about your morning preparations, Shindou's predatory stare haunted you. The warm, bitter aroma of hot coffee sloshing in your mug kept you grounded. Tiny scratches along your arms from the shower of window shards stung with every pull of your limbs as you dressed for the day. It would be at least two days before the building contractors replaced the windows. Maybe this time they would replace them with something more durable to seismic-grade vibrations than rudimentary glass. You pulled out your phone and squinted at the screen.

Message: Shindou Yo - Y/n, I have a few errands for you to run after sending those finished reports off to the HPSC. My list is already uploaded to your planner. You're the best, doll!

Your breath caught in your chest. It wouldn't take but a few hours to finish and courier over the reports, but Shindou's personal errand list? You cautiously opened your planner app and highlighted "Wednesday" with a trembling finger. This was a man quite capable of anything, and your career, your livelihood was in his large, devious hands. Much to your surprise (or was it disappointment?) his errand list was fairly innocent. Grocery lists, dry cleaning and package pick ups, it all seemed pretty self-explanatory. Every errand was detailed down to the minute, and for a moment you found yourself wondering why Grand even needed a personal assistant to keep his life in check. Dressed in your modest gray pencil skirt and white quarter-sleeve collared shirt, you took a quick look in the mirror. With a sigh, you steeled your nerve. This was your life now-- just another powerless pawn at the beck and call of a celebrated hero. You packed up your laptop bag, topped off your travel mug, and started your commute into the city.

Your key turned effortlessly in the tumbler of the deadbolt on his penthouse door. It was a feat with how many bags and hangers you had hanging from your arms. You cursed your boss and his arrogance. It was borderline harassment what he was putting you through. As you pushed through the doorway with Grand's parcels and bags, huffing to yourself over his arrogance, you swore you could hear the softest grunts coming from inside the suite. Dutiful assistant you were, you hung the tasteful slate and navy suits and dry cleaning in the foyer. Silence continued to permeate the suite as you worked to replace the groceries in the fridge and tidy the kitchen. Internally, you thought about calling the maid service if only to keep the penthouse clean for the careless bachelor.

"Hnnghnnn!!"

You froze and held your breath-- you knew that voice. A sickening crack resounded through the suite and was answered by another keening groan. A cool, low voice exchanged clipped, stern words. Your curiosity bubbled over and your skin burned scarlet at the vision swimming into view as you quietly emerged from the kitchen and into the open expanse of the playboy's living room. If the vision of his raven head buried between the bronzed and oiled thighs of a golden goddess left an impression, the sight before you would remain with you to the grave.

Rich, wine ropes dug into limbs hardened and sculpted by years of hero field work and honing his multifunctional quirk. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose and onto the polished hardwood as he hung suspended by a bolt from where you assumed a light fixture once hung. A heavy black blindfold velcroed tightly to his handsome face kept him blindly sweeping his head to find his playmate. Sinful mouth was left woefully unattended and you felt your panties grow damp at the thought of all the horribly lewd noises about to be coaxed from his saliva-coated lips. But the cherry of it all, red and angry, weeping onto the floor bounced proudly against his washboard abs with every twitch and sigh. He curled backward, spine arched deliciously and stretched his pecs with every heaving breath. The leather-clad woman in thigh-high boots and fishnet bodysuit didn't even register as you drank in his helplessness.

"I want you to sit and think about what you've done, hero." Her voice was red wine and dark chocolate. It was night in the dungeon and her word was final. Her riding crop came down on the pale, toned flesh of his buttocks with another loud crack, earning another loud moan and a violent twitch of his neglected cock. Precum beaded and glistened at his swollen head, the light catching it in a way that made your mouth water from your hiding spot. As the imperious Amazon left the scene, your body moved on its own. Creeping through the dark, you sat on hands and knees beneath the quivering Adonis in his crimson silk harness. Wetting your lips, you raised up on your knees and dragged the tip of your tongue along the seam of his balls, up the thick vein running the length of his heavy shaft, and twirled around that leaking, hot head. He was all salt and heat on your tongue, a taste you could grow to appreciate under different circumstances. He let out a hiss under your tongue as you dragged the pad of your tongue against his head in soft kitten strokes. Your fingers drifted between your thighs and ran carelessly along your clothed silt, your slick rendering the cotton fabric useless. Grand was brought low by a Quirkless civilian, and all that remained was Shindou Yo, bound and moaning into the empty expanse of his penthouse. He keened above you and helplessly thrashed against his harness to seek more friction from your eager mouth. For a moment, you obliged taking his girthy length into the heat of your waiting mouth. He melted into his restraints and into the warm, wet cavern, helpless to your slow ministrations. His moans were low, needy notes littering their shared space. How frequently did you find your thoughts coming back to his penthouse? You moaned into his length and rubbed tight, sloppy circles on your clit over your drenched panties. The head of his cock pushed to the back of your throat. His poor, neglected cock twitched, and you felt yourself begin to come undone. His whimpering and frantic panting spurred you on until reason seeped back in through the cracks of your lust-hazed thoughts.

"I know you're still there," he sighed, still struggling against his binding. "I can smell you. You're loving this, aren't you? C'mon, sweetheart...is that the best you've got?"

His words, that sinful, husky voice doused whatever fire you had burning in your loins. He knew you were here. How could he not? Maybe he wasn't anticipating you finishing his list so soon? Or...more likely, in all his meticulous planning he wanted you to find him like this-- beaten and vulnerable, open to your advances. The door creaked open, signaling your chance to escape. Abruptly, you pulled his aching cock from your lips and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Scrambling gracelessly in your nylons against the hardwood, you dove back into the kitchen. Mistress Wednesday strode confidently into the frey, riding crop in hand. Harness slung across her hips in elegantly embossed black leather, her own proud length in dazzling ultraviolet was anchored to her crotch with a heavy steel ring. Eight inches and rivaling his own girth, your eyes rested on her gloved hands and how they worked to nimbly prepare his needy, puckered hole for the beating it was about to receive.

It was too much to take in. The scene unfolded and elevated to a higher level of filth you were far from accustomed to, and you, despite every cell in your body screaming to stay and enjoy the show you silently stole away. The only sound signaling your departure from the suite was the gentle click of the deadbolt latching between Shindou Yo's hungry moans. You called in sick the next morning agonizing over whether or not it would be poor form to put in your notice.

++++++

You fidgeted at your desk when he crossed through the foyer to his office. It was a patrol morning, and naturally he had to grace his staff with the morale boosting sight of the boss hitting the streets just like the lowest-rung side-kicks in his employ. His bare chest glistened under the fluorescents. Sweat dripped from his pretty-boy brow and harkened back to that moment when he was curled back on himself, sweat dripping down his sinew and steel body for an entirely different reason. It was all you could do to avoid his sharp, onyx gaze and that heart-melting smile.

"Y/n, I hope you're feeling better," he grinned. God, how you hated that grin! "We missed you yesterday."

"Ah, yeah. May I help you with something, sir?"

He canted that gorgeous, raven head of his and narrowed his eyes at you. "Actually there is." You waited for him to finish, your heart leaping into your throat the longer he loomed over your desk, but he never did. Instead, he sauntered through the double doors of his office and gestured for you to follow. Numbly, your feet followed before the rest of you could catch up.

Contractor tape still lined the window panes, a reminder of the last time you were caught in his crosshairs. You squirmed mulling over the implications of his quirk, your position, and how inexplicably tangled you had become in his daily life. As he pulled off his faceguard and set the sweat-stained support gear on the rich oak hardwood of his desk you felt him burn through you as if committing every exposed freckle to memory. He zeroed in on your lips and smirked, holding his arms open as if to invite you to take a moment and fully appreciate him for the god among men he was.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?"

You swallowed hard and nodded before you could stop yourself. It seemed to be the right answer because in seconds he was on you, pinning your back to the desk. He leaned over you, nose barely brushing yours and licked his lips slowly. His stare was downright predatory as he loomed over you, hands heavy and rough pawed at your poly-blend wrapped hips. He gripped at the dark fabric and eyed you hungrily. The breath you didn't realize you were holding slowly escaped through gently pursed lips, the preamble to what should have been your verbal notice. But something in his stare kept you silent, submissive. The possessive hold he had on your hips kept you grounded, but the scent of him after a patrol sent you reeling. Effortlessly he lifted your hips and slid your skirt down your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders once freed. It was his turn for his breath to hitch in his throat-- he drank in the sight of your damp, silk panties and dragged his tongue along his lips as if imagining how your fluttering walls would feel convulsing around his tongue. Pupils blown, he raked his eyes over your half-dressed frame.

"Shy? I thought we'd be long past that, sweetheart." He lowered his head and dragged his lips across the soft skin of your inner thighs. "After all, I still have to return the favor," he purred, dragging his tongue in one broad stroke up along your soaked, clothed cunt. A shuddering gasp broke through your self-imposed silence and you all but melted into his mouth. He hadn't even used his quirk on you and he had you quivering into his mouth. You felt him grin that feral, wolfish grin into your heat and the lift of your lower back from the cool, hardwood of his oak desk. How many times did he seduce and lay waste to his catch of the day? It barely mattered as you carded your fingers through the tangle of black curls and opened yourself to his advances. Shame was an afterthought you could afford if it meant you could satisfy that carnal curiosity surrounding your boss.

"Y/n, who knew you'd be such a lewd little slut." He pulled your panties to the side easily and teased your clit with the very top of his tongue. It started with a low, steady hum and graduated to a heavy buzz focused entirely on the head of your tender bundle. The sensation brought you to the edge almost too quickly. You fought against his hold, squirming and writhing with your legs squeezing helplessly around his head as he continued holding his tongue against you. Incensed by your sudden fight, he slipped a finger easily into your drooling hole and searched for that spongy spot that brought white stars to the edges of your vision. A moan, high and sharp ripped through you as he pulled his mouth from your now swollen pearl. Hungrily your cunt clenched around his finger, and soon he added a second. Your eyes clamped shut at the sudden addition and your body tensed around him. He planted soft kisses and gentle bites along your thighs as you slowly came back to a baseline he deemed appropriate. The moment he felt you relax, you felt it-- a hook of two calloused fingertips digging mercilessly up into your g-spot, vibrations resonating from deep within. You kicked and fought to writhe away and again he held you fast against the desk effortlessly. You tugged and pushed at his head, your end coming all too quickly. Your breathing grew frantic, moaning out half syllables and empty pleas for him to stop.

"Yo!!"

Shuddering into his mouth, you rode his fingers to completion, legs trembling around his ears like his own personal earthquake. He withdrew his fingers and brought them to his lips, groaning at the taste. Shindou palmed his half-hard cock through his hero suit and lowed his head for a taste from your source. Satisfied, he pulled your ass lower down the desk and helped you find your feet back on the ground. Your heels long forgotten, the carpet felt foreign under your bare toes when he turned you around by the hips and bent you over the desk. His hands lovingly dug into the meat of your ass and spread your cheeks to peek at your holes from a different point of view.

"So sweet, little miss secretary. So submissive. Who would have guessed you'd be such a dirty little voyeur, too…" he purred in your ear. The shuffling of fabric and the soft sound of skin sliding on skin punctuated his statement. "Bet you never thought you'd be part of the show, huh?" You whimpered under his caresses, slick dripping down your thighs as he ground his thick cock between your cheeks.

"Please, sir…" you moaned, rubbing your thighs together for some semblance of friction to ease the growing ache. "I can't. I need you."

He ran his hand down your spine and rubbed soothing circles over your hips. "Use your words, sweetheart. Sir can't give you what he doesn't know you want," he teased. The head of his cock rubbed between your thighs, catching your swollen clit and earning a soft moan. "Say it."

"Please let me cum on your cock, sir!"

As if that was all the permission he needed he sheathed himself into your needy core in one stroke. Spasming, you felt as if your joints would pull apart from the pleasure alone. He stilled inside you and gave you a moment to adjust, if only to revel in how tightly your velvet walls hugged around his girth. Satisfied, he gripped the back of your neck and rocked his hips into the plush muscles of your ass and thighs. You reached before you and dug your nails into the desk, moaning out like the only two adults left in the entire city were the two of you. Wanton and wanting you rocked back, earning a low groan in return. His hand wound around your hair and gave an experimental tug as he picked up the pace, the head of his cock curving into the soft sponge of your g-spot. White hot, pleasure surged through you from fingertips to toes and left you screaming his name as you came around him

"Yo! Fuck me, please don't stop. Yo, don't fucking stop!"

He grinned above you and pulled your back tight against him, spine arched beautifully by the hair you continued to whine and beg as he rutted his hips against you. "That's it, sweetheart. Let loose a little. Sir's got you. That's it. Cum on Sir’s cock again."

His words enough could have been enough to be your undoing, but it wouldn't be Grand if he didn't bring that little extra something to the scene. He sheathed fully, angling up and pulling hard on your hair to kiss his head to your tender cervix. Stars flooded your vision, and your legs threatened to give if it weren't for the strong hold he had on your hair and the solid desk beneath you. He didn't budge from your tight, fleshy ring. As he held you, he closed his eyes and focused his quirk into that spot he just knew few before him had touched. Deep, rumbling vibrations threatened to rend your soul from your still breathing body as you convulsed and clenched rhythmically on his cock, milking him. Words were lost. The longer he fed on your spasming body, the sensations and sounds he could pull from your pliant, willing little holes, he felt himself get lost.

"Cum, I'm cumming again, Sir! Fuck, I can't fucking stop!!" With one last spasm, he let go of your hair and let your body slump over his desk as he took your ass in his hands. He spread your cheeks and watched as his cock disappeared into your tight pink sheath and sloppily gave a few more thrusts before digging back in and releasing with a low, gravely groan. Hot, thick ropes of white coated your abused hole as he continued his release. Your body trembled, cunt still clenching tightly around his softening member, and you whimpered softly into the desk. First emptiness set in, and then anxiety. Emotions crept back in where lust once sat, and all you could do was slowly piece together what just took place.

As if sensing your growing distress, Shindou scooped you into his arms and peppered your cheeks and nose with chaste kisses. His tenderness seemed out of place given how savagely he had used you moments ago. The leather couch was cool against your after-glowing skin. He left you briefly, retreating to his private restroom, and returned with a washcloth.

"You're okay, sweetheart. You did so good. Better than I ever expected." He crooned over you as he gently wiped the remnants of his spend from your leaking hole. "Looks like you passed. Congrats, we're hiring you on full-time, Friday," he grinned coyly. It took a moment for the gravity of his words to sink in and finally it hit at once. In your fucked-out haze, you barely registered what he meant. It was going to be a long rest of your career.

#shindou x reader #shindou smut #yo shindou #shindoumas #bnha smut #bnharem

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justanotherlifeff · 4 years ago

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Chapter 4

Fem!Todoroki!reader × Bakugou

Genre:FLUFF, Slight Angst

A small barely visible smile formed on Bakugou's face as he remembered his first kiss. He was in his bedroom with you as you hugged him and cried like a baby, telling him that you loved him repeatedly. He confessed his feelings to you as well and before you two knew, your lips were pressed together as you indulged into his as well as your first kiss. You spent the night kissing eachother, holding eachother tightly since you'd have to let go of him the next day. You went to the airport with him, where he had his second kiss, just before getting into the huge building. It had been five years since then and being on a plane back to Japan was nothing shorter than exciting for Bakugou.

You were having a rather great day. You had finally graduated from University and you went to a real estate company to buy a building for the new (H/N) agency. Shouto was going to inherit Endeavour's agency, which he wanted to give the two of you in a joint ownership but you refused his offer. For the past five years, while your father tried to be better than before, he still thought that giving you an arranged marriage was a good idea. Which is why, thanks to Shouto, Fuyumi and Natsuo, you had ditched your own engagement about 4 different times in the last year cause you were waiting for Bakugou like you promised eachother. While you did keep contact with Bakugou in this time through social media, it was difficult for the two of you to make time for eachother thanks to your busy schedules and the time difference. However, today, that would end because Bakugou kept his promise and today, he would be back in your arms.

Waiting for you was difficult for Bakugou. There were insecurities on the way, several major fights, sometimes he wondered if this relationship was even worth the effort. Ofcourse, Bakugou with his amazing and eye catching quirk had American women swoon upon him. Ofcourse, even a close female friend of his (while he didn't like admitting that he had friends) wanted him badly. It would've been the easier way out to just end things with you and start over. To just forget about his feud with Deku and get settled in America. After all, he did make a name for himself out there. However, every time those thoughts came to his head, every time he got drunk and had girls approaching him in the bars, he would remember the smell of your hair from that day. Your voice raspy from crying as you muttered 'I love you Katsuki's over and over again. The fact that you cried for him. The fact that even after all those fights, all those times he made you feel down, you never gave up. How could he give up on someone as amazing as that for some random extra? With that, he always held onto his devotion towards you. He would always tell anyone who showed a romantic or sexual interest towards him to fuck off. After all, he was yours.

And you were worth the wait. When you ran towards him and tackled him to a hug as soon as he exited the airport, a gust of your scent hitting him like a truck, he knew that he made the right decision sticking to you. You were the embodiment of perfection at that moment with the beautiful brightness radiating from you as tears left your eyes while there was a huge smile on your face. The media had a field day on that day because that was the first time the world saw Ground Zero smile instead of his signature smirk.

Introducing him to your father was rather easy to be honest. Bakugou was quite famous in the United States and as soon as he landed in Japan, he was already considered a prodigy that rivaled All Might's successor, Deku. That, along with the fact that Endeavour knew Bakugou personally thanks to Bakugou working under him during his work studies made Endeavour accept the young hero as your potential fiance easily.

The day Bakugou put a ring on your finger was two years later on the hero billboard ceremony. Bakugou finally got in the top 3 spot and during his speech, he simply threw a box with the ring at you, smirked at you and said, "Marry me, (Y/N)". Needless to say that you accepted immediately. The wedding took place a month later and Kirishima still brags about how much of a manly best man he was that day. As you sat on the sofa of your living room, watching your 3 year old blonde son staring at your 5 year old daughter showing off the crackling in her palms from her quirk that had recently manifested, you smiled nostalgically, thinking of how everything fell into place. Your husband, Bakugou Katsuki would come home from hero work in a while and the four of you would have dinner together. It was the perfect life really and all it took to get to this was a little bit of love.

THE END

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugou ? reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou × reader

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kiwilana · 4 years ago

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TouyaMight

sdkfjhsdkf listen don’t judge mE

this is a thread ive been writing on twitter since november,,,,,

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

Pissing off his father always gave Touya the greatest thrill. To know he was the one to put the angry scowl on his face and the furrow between his brows, well, it brought him a sense of sadistic joy.

What? He deserved to give his old man shit considering all the fucked up shit he had to go through

So whenever an opportunity came up to fuck with the number 2, Touya took it.

Painting over the billboards that had his dad’s face? Kids play.

Ruining his costumes with bleach in very strategic areas? Amateur hour.

Bulk ordering All Might Merch to his agency? Done and done.

So when Touya joined his father and siblings at the most recent Hero’s Gala and saw the number 1 hero was also in attendance well…. He couldn’t just /miss/ a perfect opportunity like this! It would practically be a crime!

Fuyumi of course knew him all too well, he could see her bee lining to him, and he just /smiled/ and gave her a jaunty little wave, ignoring her calling his name as he sidled up to where the number 1 hero was conversing with others.

Touya could practically feel the heat of his father’s stare as slides in close to the blonde, one scarred hand delicately placed on a deliciously muscular arm.

“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met before this, the name’s Touya Todoroki, it’s a pleasure to meet you All Might.” Touya flashes him his best smile, a soft curl of his lips and a fluttering of his eyelashes.

He knows he’s a sight, white hair styled back, slinky black dress with high slits, heels, and of course the multitude of burn scars covering a majority of his body.

Endeavor had nearly blown a gasket when he showed up like this, it was only the fact they were in public that kept him from scolding Touya.

“Young Todoroki! It is a pleasure to meet you! It’s certainly unfortunate we haven’t been able to meet before now, I do not often attend these sorts of functions!” All Might’s smile was wide and bright and Touya kinda wished he had a pair of sunglasses damn those pearly whites were shining in his eyes.

“It /is/ a shame huh? We could always meet up afterwards, I know a few restaurants.” The temperature in the room rose by several degrees and Touya could hear his sisters groan and Natuo’s muffled snort.

The conversations around them had fallen into startled silence at the fact the son of Endeavor, All Might’s biggest rival, had just asked the number 1 hero out.

All Might could only stare at Touya in shock, the offer of a date was unexpected and the hero couldn’t fight the flush that burned the tips of his ears, “I appreciate the offer young Todoroki but unfortunately I will have to decline.”

Before the white haired man could reply Endeavor is there, large hand wrapped around the slim arm and pulling him away, face positively thunderous.

“Maybe next time All Might!”

Touya laughed even as Endeavor dragged him out of the event.

Mission accomplished.

--------

The argument Touya and Enji got into once they reached home almost made the spectacle not worth it. Especially when the argument got heated enough and accusations thrown around that Touya’s tenuous control on his quirk slipped.

The dark burn across his arms didn’t even hurt, not really, and that was the bad part. It meant that he’d burned straight past a 2nd degree burn to 3rd and he was going to be stuck in the hospital /again/.

He hated being stuck in the hospital, he practically lived at the goddamn place. The whole staff knew him since he'd been coming there since he was young, how fucked up is that.

The pitying looks as they gave while they looked over his burns and decided whether or not he’d need another skin graft were so fucking annoying.

He hated all of it.

If he snarked more at the staff then necessary it wasn’t his fault really. The place was boring and stressful and he hated being stuck here.

There were never that many other patients for him to talk to, the hospital was a private one for top heroes and their families, so Touya rarely saw other people. Most of his day was spent chatting with doctors and nurses and bitching about the extra meal replacement drinks he had to take.

So when he noticed the frail looking blond man, he couldn’t help but be interested. The man was sitting outside in a hospital gown, and Touya took a seat next to him.

“Damn, what’d happened to you?”

At least the guy didn’t look offended, a win in Touya’s books honestly.

No, the guy snorted a laugh and gave Touya a surprisingly soft smile that made the gauntness of his face soften and Touya couldn’t help the thought that he wasn’t bad looking when he smiled.

“A fight with a villain unfortunately. He got a lucky shot in and damaged me pretty bad.”

“Damn that’s gotta fucking suck. Especially since you’re stuck in this boring as hell place now.”

That earned him another smile.

“Oh I don’t think it’ll be that bad, after all you’re here no? The man who asked out All Might is quite interesting I think.”

“Damn, so you saw me get rejected! Well, then you already know me, what’s your name? Since it seems like we both might be stuck here a while.” “I am Yagi Toshinori, it’s a pleasure to meet you properly Touya.”

-----

The next time Touya meets Yagi several days have passed by. He finds the older man slumped over in one of the comfier chairs, IV line in his arms and he looks absolutely /miserable/.

Touya can’t help but feel bad for the poor guy, he looks worse than usual, his tanned skin unhealthily pale and breathing laboured.

So he settles in next to Yagi, arms and legs thrown over the arm rests of his chair.

“Damn, you’re lookin’ worse today Yagi-san, what happened?”

The tall man blinks at his new companion, a small smile stretching across his face.

“Ah, we’re trying a new treatment today and well… it’s a bit taxing. I’m afraid I won’t be very good company today Todoroki-san.”

“Ah man, don’t call me that, makes me feel like my brothers or dad. Call me Touya.”

“Touya-san then.”

Touya fixes his eyes on bright blue ones and grins, he thought it would’ve been more of a struggle to get the blond to call him by name.

“Well, since you’re feeling bad, how about a story? Natsu and the nurses used to read me some when I was stuck in bed.”

He doesn’t even really wait for a response before starting.

“So you like, remember how I told you I asked out all might yah? Lemme tell you about it. So like, there’s this party, and dad wants us all to go because the public has been asking about his family and all that. And so I came to the party, dressed amazingly right. Like I got this bOMB ass dress. Dad nearly blew a gasket when I came in it."

Touya wiggles his fingers and arms, making motions as he tells his version of the events. The growing smile on Yagi’s face just made him be more dramatic with his storytelling and movements.

-----

"And there he is. There's All Might. The big kahuna himself. And my little brain gerbils start moving. And I get the idea. ‘How else should i make dad mad today?’ And that’s when it comes to me. ASK OUT ALL MIGHT."

“Wait was this before or after you kicked the guy who whistled at you?”

“After- so anyWAYS-”

-----

"And then the car explodes."

"What????!"

"Okay not really. Figuratively. Dad burned the roof again."

"Okay so maybe a little literally? I dunno english is hard."

"Touya were speaking japanese"

"Fuck"

-----

By the end of the story they’re both laughing and Touya feels light and happy as Yagi chortles at the selfie he managed to take while being dragged out of the party.

It was nice to see Yagi smiling again instead of hunched in on himself in pain and discomfort.

“Thank you Touya-san, your story really did help. You’re quite the story teller. I’d love to hear more of them from you.”

“Sure! I always love having a captive audience, it’s the drama queen in me. “

-----

Yagi is the one to find Touya next time.

He finds the younger man pressed in a dark corner under a staircase of all places.

He wouldn’t have even noticed him if he hadn’t heard the soft sound of sniffling, and his heroic heart couldn’t just leave someone that’s so obviously in distress alone.

It's a bit uncomfortable to climb under the staircase to settle next to Touya, listening quietly to his sniffles. It makes his heart squeeze a little and Yagi has to fight the urge to give the younger man a hug.

Touya eventually notices him, big turquoise eyes meeting his own blue ones, there's tears clinging to the corners of his eyes.

“Do you want me to call your nurse Touya-san?”

Touya shakes his head, lips pursing together before he drops his head down onto his arms.

“No. ‘S okay. ‘S nothing they can do. ‘M not allowed any more pain meds until tomorrow.”

The confusion on Yagi’s face has the unscarred parts of Touya’s cheeks flushing.

“I.. had some issues with getting a/ddicted a few years ago. They’ve kept a tighter control on my medications since then. ‘S kay tho. The pain’s not too bad.. I’ll get over it soon.”

“Then.. how about I tell you a story? Let’s see… there was this time when I was in America…”

By the time Yagi reaches the end of his crazy tale Touya’s smiling and laughing, pain forgotten for the moment.

“Honestly Yagi-san! How do you accidentally steal a penguin!”

“Ah well! That’s a mystery not even I know! And I was there!”

The tears on Touya’s cheeks were from laughter this time, and Yagi smiled so softly, a big hand reaching up to gently brush them away from Touya’s cheek.

And Touya /leans/ into his hand, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed into the warm and calloused palm.

Yagi can feel his heart race faster and his ears burn red at the serene face.

“Thank you Yagi-san… will you tell me another one…? It’s.. it’s a good distraction from the pain.”

“Of course Touya-san.”

The two of them spend hours like that, sitting under the dark staircase, Touya eventually leaning against Yagi’s bony shoulder, eyes shut as he listens to the deep voice rumble out tales of his times in America.

It’s how their nurses find them.

They’re practically frantic with worry considering the two have been missing for hours.

They get scolded thoroughly and before they separate Touya wraps one hand around one of Yagi’s own and gives him another one of those smiles that makes the blond’s heart race.

“Let’s have lunch tomorrow Yagi-san.”

“I would love that Touya.”

-----

It becomes a new part of their routine, meeting up together to have lunch.

The both of them were on pretty similar dietary plans, both meals were full of high calorie foods. Yagi explained it was to keep his weight up as he adjusted to the loss of his stomach. While Touya told the blond that his quirk burned through his calories so fast that if he didn’t constantly eat he’d easily end up malnourished.

They end up closer as the days turn into weeks. It wasn’t uncommon to find them together, sitting and chatting, even occasionally finding them leaning against each other, the fatigue taking hold as they napped against each other.

You could say the nurses had a field day with that one and took quite a few pictures. And if Touya and Yagi might’ve asked for their own copies well.. That was their business.

If Yagi had a picture of them tucked into his wallet no one needed to know.

And if Touya had his tucked into his desk drawer, that was for him to know.

Occasionally visitors would come for Yagi, a small old man, a rather plain looking man and occasionally a man he recognized as All Might’s sidekick, Sir Nighteye. Those days he wouldn’t see much of Yagi, his lunches were spent alone in his room craving the presence of the other man.

Yagi asked him about it, the day after he received Sir Nighteye as a guest again, and asked him why his family never seemed to visit him.

Explaining to Yagi that his father didn’t let his siblings come visit was… awkward. The frown that crossed the normally jovial blond’s face at his explanation made Touya feel…. Ashamed? Awkward?

He wasn’t quite sure honestly, but his cheeks burned and he rubbed at the back of his neck, unable to look into those piercing eyes.

So he didn’t notice when Yagi moved closer to him.

Not until those bony arms were wrapping around him, pulling him into a gentle hug, his bony chin resting atop the fluffy white mess that was Touya’s hair.

And Touya just /melted/. He slumped into those arms, cheek rubbing against Yagi’s shirt as he clung to the older man. He could feel the pressure building up in the back of his throat and had to blink back tears.

How long has it been since someone’s held him?

“It’s alright Touya. I’m here.”

The soft voice and warm hands resting on his back, it was enough, and Touya shook in those deceptively strong arms, soft sobs leaving him as his tears soaked into Yagi’s shirt.

They spent hours like that, Touya curled in Yagi’s arms, the blond never letting him go, even when his tears ran dry.

It was so warm.

Touya never wanted to leave his arms.

-----

Then the day came for Touya to be discharged.

He’d stayed in the hospital for over a month now. The skin grafts on his arms had attached properly and had healed enough that he could go home. Fuyumi told Touya that she’d be the one coming to pick him up, Dad was going to be at work and unavailable.

She told him she’d be there after school let out.

Touya felt something sink in his chest as the nurses removed his bandages for the last time. His arms were… hard to look at and he avoided it as he slipped on the loose long sleeved shirt. Touya packed away the few clothes he had, fingers pausing over the picture of him and Yagi sleeping against each other.

His chest squeezed tight at the thought of leaving. He didn’t want to leave the blond man. Ever since that breakdown in his arms Yagi had been so kind, the blond man was always touching him, lingering touches on his hands and shoulders, bringing him into hugs more often.

Touya didn’t want to lose that.

He… didn’t want to lose what connection he had with Yagi.

He didn’t want the blond to forget him.

He….

He liked him.

Touya had to find Yagi before he left.

-----

It wasn’t hard to find him.

When Yagi wasn’t in his room or with his nurses and doctors, it's a safe bet to say he’d be outside relaxing, and he was. Seeing him sitting there made Touya’s stomach flutter and fuck he felt /nervous/.

The smile Yagi gave him when Touya stepped towards him made his heart beat faster, he could feel his palms getting clammy with sweat. Fuck.Touya had never felt like this before. It was.. Overwhelming.

“Touya! It’s good to see you!”

How could one man be so adorable?

“Yagi… you’re.. You’re looking good today.”

Touya could feel the nerves twisting up at his insides as he took the offered seat next to the blond, the hot cup of tea Yagi gently pressed into his hands helped ground him a little. He could do this. He didn’t know if there’d be another chance.

“I’m being discharged today.”

Yagi’s smile shrunk and he sighed deeply, “So soon..? I’m going to miss seeing you. I’ve greatly enjoyed your company here Touya. It’s made my stay much more bearable.”

“Yagi. I…”

Touya trailed off as those bright blue eyes stared into his own, and he couldn’t help himself.

His scarred hands gently cupped sunken in cheeks and Touya leaned up, pressing his lips softly against the older man’s, just a soft press of their lips that made Touya’s stomach flip flop in joy and dread.

“Yagi, I really like you.”

Yagi’s stunned silence filled the small courtyard, beautiful blue eyes wide with surprise as a bright flush grew across the tops of his cheeks.

Touya thought he looked gorgeous.

“I. Well, I ah, I’m flattered Touya but.. I am many years older than you. I’m older than your father.”

/That wasn’t a no./

“So what? I don’t care about that Yagi. You /know/ that. I like you. I really really like you. I want to spend more time with you Yagi. I want, I want to hold your hand, I want to kiss you again, I want to eventually take you out on dates. I. If you really don’t, feel like that. It’s /okay/. I just. Fuck-”

He was rambling, his eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping his pants. Touya couldn’t put into words all the things he wanted. He just.. Wanted Yagi.

Larger hands gently wrapped around his own and Touya blinked watery eyes up, and Yagi was much closer now, mouth quirked in a small smile that made the white haired man’s stomach flip pleasantly.

“Touya. Is this.. Do you really want this?”

“/Yes/.”

And those lips were pressing to his again and the dread in his stomach disappeared as those big hands held him so gently, like he was something fragile and /precious/, and Touya clung to the taller man, pressing kiss after kiss to his mouth.

By the time they stopped they were both flushed and panting, lips swollen and wide smiles on their faces.

“Well then, I suppose you should call me Toshinori now.”

Touya laughed and kissed the man again.

“Whatever you say Toshi.”

#my writing #yagi toshinori #touya todoroki #looks away

5 notes · View notes

nautiscarader · 4 years ago

Text

Smutember day 25 - Three isn’t a crowd - Kim/Ron/Yori

Smutember day 25 - Three isn’t a crowd - Kim/Ron/Yori, 4k (!)

(with elements of day 16 - caught in the act)

(Ao3)

prompt for anon on CuriousCat.

Special thanks to zekkKiray for proofreading

If you liked my story, here’s a Ko-fi link if you’d be so kind ❤️.

==============================

- Ron! - What, Kim? - Are you crazy? Now?

Kim barked in a hushed voice, sharply turning when she felt her boyfriend, illuminated only by the lights from the nearby billboard.

- Aww, but Kim, it's been two weeks... - No buts, Ron! - she quickly cut him off, watching him frown.

She was about to turn to her side, when she heard the soft whimpering and watched as his chin and lower lip began moving to the rhythm of his vocal complaints. She opened her mouth wide, shocked beyond belief at her boyfriend's betrayal.

- You monster. Using my own weapon against me?

Ron nodded, his face still holding the same mournful expression. feeling defeated, Kim sighed, put a finger to his lips, and turned her head towards the doorway to the corridor, listening into the ambient noises of their apartment. And after a while, when she was reasonably certain they won't be heard, she smiled and spread her legs, inviting her boyfriend between them.

- Alright, Ron, you won with your horny sad puppy face. -she sighed, her voice carrying just a hint of satisfaction - But we have to be quick and qui-ET!

Kim let out a shriek and turned her head at once when instead of Ron's length she expected, she felt his tongue against her sex.

- R-Ron!

She lifted the blanket, finding her boyfriend eagerly sucking on her clit and lapping at her folds, while his hands kept her thighs in place- a good idea, since his sudden intrusion would surely make her jump in place. Ron looked up, questioning the reason for her outburst.

- Whath? - he asked, with his tongue out - You haven't had a chance to relax in two weeks either. And didn't you say we need to stay quiet?

Kim's anger turned into a sly smile at her boyfriend's clever reasoning.

- Alright, smartass, keep it up.

Kim pushed his head back against her sex and bit on the edge of the blanket, ready to use it to contain any of the screams she has been holding off for the past two weeks.

The reason for the two student's forced celibacy slept on the couch in the living room, directly on the other side of the wall Kim was bracing herself against right now. Two weeks ago, Kim and Ron drove to the airport to pick up an unexpected guest - Yori, who came all the way from Japan to hone her skills in English, as well as help the Team Possible fight crimes, as the super-villains did not care that the two were attending college now.

And while the couple welcomed her old friend in their flat they were renting, and offered her hospitality that could even rival her country, after a while it became a bit problematic for he two youngsters to keep things private. They exchanged kisses and slightly more risqué touches, but every time the night fell, they were afraid that their love-making would wake her up, and given Kim's tendency to scream it was more that a valid excuse.

But all of those worries seemed to be going away with every lick of Ron's tongue, as Kim's mind was slowly going blank, as she sank into her pillow. She hadn't felt her boyfriend's skilful lips and fingers in fourteen long days and nights, and every fibre in her loins expressed it, setting her body on fire with each delicate move he performed.

She whimpered, her chest rising up and down erratically as if she has been running a marathon, as she consciously tried to limit the air she exhaled, as every breath could carry a passionate, rabid cry.

Finally, she couldn't take it - her body spasmed, her hand pressed Ron's head against her sex, and let out a primal scream into her pillow. Meanwhile, her folds muffled Ron's moan, which only intensified her climax, forcing more of her juices to coat Ron's face, which started his cries to begin with.

Kim's athletic body kept arching up and down, trying to disperse the energy from her climax without going into another higher octave. When she collapsed, she wasn't surprised to feel Ron's weight on her sneaking up at once, and welcomed the familiar hardness between her legs she hasn't felt in seemingly forever.

Aside from her quickened breath, there was a new noise filling their room, as Ron fiddled with the condom's wrapper, and watched as Kim's expression changes with each second of a delay, revealing how impatient she was underneath her superficially restraint behaviour.

- Ready, Kim?

Ron asked his girlfriend, but didn't have to hear her answer. Her legs at once closed behind his bum like a trap, and pressed his crotch against her in a precise movement only horny Kim possible could muster, as her impaling also slid the rubber onto Ron's cock. The only reason Ron didn't yell when his cock was embraced by her wet, inviting warmth was that her lips were ready for him, letting him cry into her mouth, while she moaned in return, celebrating being filled again.

Next thing they know, their bodies began rocking against each other, with Kim's legs dictating the tempo Ron's hips had to meet. Kim moaned into his lips when she felt his arms behind her back, carrying her gently above the pillow into a half-sitting position, hoping it would reduce the creaking of their bed. Kim thought that without the bed underneath her Ron would have difficulties thrusting inside her, but she feared for nothing; if anything it made it easier, and the red-head had to scream into his neck when he began rutting her in this vaguely acrobatic position.

Two long weeks have taken a toll on their patience; while she would love a slow, delicate love-making Ron has excelled at, all she could think right now was to reach her peak, one that has been tantalisingly close, and hearing Ron's heavy, rugged grunts in her ear, he was thinking about nothing else either.

Like addicts, they needed a quick fix, and in their heated embrace, they were cooking it up faster and faster, until their voices gave away their desires, filling their room with their cries.

- Kim! - Ron!

But as their climax were about to arrive, the two shared petrified looks.

Because Kim wasn't the only one crying Ron's name.

And Ron wasn't the only one wailing Kim's.

With their suddenly stopped climaxes their senses picked up a third voice, low and equally afraid.

A minute stretched into infinity as the three pondered what to do with this revelation. Finally, Kim mustered enough courage to reach their guest.

- Yori...?

A small shriek reached them from behind the wall, and it took another minute for any other sound, aside from rugged breathing to reach them. A single loose plank in their corridor gave Yori away, as the ninja sneaked on her wobbly legs to their living room entrance, but remained in the shadows.

- I... I... I apologise.

Suddenly Yori dropped to her knees and lowered her head in shame, unable to meet her hosts' stares, let alone their naked bodies.

- Kim, Ron, I... I didn't mean to... I... - That's... that's okay, Yori - Kim spoke, unsure of her own words - Don't-don't sit on the floor, you might catch cold.

She wrapped herself in her blanket and stepped of their bed to give her a hand. Yori looked up, once more shying away, until she accepted Kim's help and stood up to sit on a nearby chair.

- I...I apologise - she sniffed, repeating herself - I have mislead you, and lied to you, Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable.

Kim and Ron exchanged confused looks, as their eyes stared at their trembling guest.

- Er, how so? - Ron asked - A prophecy. I came here because of a prophecy. - Yori explained - It speaks of a brave warrior, and we have found him - she looked at Ron - But it also stated that the warrior shall meet his love, who possesses equally great power, who shall become his mate for life.

Her eyes turned towards Kim, ho hid herself underneath the same blanket.

- I told my sensei that Ron Stoppable has already found her, long ago, but I was sent here to-to make sure that-that your bond is... is strong enough. That you have joined your hearts, minds and....

She gulped.

- ...bodies.

Kim and Ron exchanged a slightly more perplexed looks, as they suddenly became aware of their half-naked bodies still pressed against each other.

- Er, Yori, that's... uh, sweet of you? - Kim spoke, unsure how to react to that statement - But... er... - But in those years I found my heart beat equally hard for you. - Yori quickly added - Not just for Ron, but for Kim too... and you, both, as-as a team... - Oh. - Ron scratched his head. - I guess we should take that as a compliment... - Kim muttered - Yori, we-we love you too, you know you are always welcomed here, and- - But that would make the prophecy wrong...! - Yori cried.

She hid her face in her hands, as if expecting some harsh punishment from them. So when Kim's warm voice reached her ears, she lifted her head and stared at her with widen eyes.

- Well, who says so?

Ron turned towards his girlfriend with equally baffled looks, and feeling the pressure, Kim explained.

- Well, the prophecy says that the "warrior" will find "love", right? But "warrior" doesn't have to be a male. It can be a female too. And "love" can be both singular and plural. - Kim continued - So, who says that the prophecy didn't mean... you? - M-me? - Of course! - Ron added - Yori, you are the one who taught me everything in the field of ninjology! And Kim too... - That's right - Kim chuckled - I think you are underselling yourself, you have helped us more than enough times...

As light shone on Yori's face, the two could finally see a glimmer in her eyes and a faint trace of smile on her face.

- And besides, the prophecy may talk about becoming mates for life... but did it say anything about mates for... one night?

Yori yelped, and so did Ron when the meaning of Kim's words reached him.

- Did you... did you like what you've heard? - Kim asked, lifting her blanket - When Ron took me, and was rutting me senselessly? - Kim... - Ron stuttered, but was quickly cut off by Yori. - Yes, very much so. - she nodded - I have never seen, nor heard a passion so potent than between you two.

Kim and Ron looked at each other, and after a short pause, it was time for Ron to speak a thought that has been on their minds.

- Would you like to join us?

Without waiting for Yori's response, the two scooted towards the wall, leaving half of their bed unoccupied. Yori stood up, and when after a long while she made the first step forward, she traversed the distance to the bed in one swoop, as if carried by some invisible force.

Two pairs of arms coiled around her, and she let out a deep moan, as Kim and Ron's lips met with her cheeks, sending a storm of shivers throughout her body.

- Yori, if we do anything you don't want... just say a word. - Kim added - The last thing we want is for you to feel uncomf-

But Kim's words were lost in Yori's mouth, when she closed her arms behind her head and kissed her, leaving not only her but Ron in a state of awe. But Ron learned exactly what Kim must have felt when Yori launched herself towards him, and for the very first time in long five years, his lips were pressed against another woman's, setting every nerve of his body on fire.

When she stopped kissing her friends, she saw the petrified looks on their faces, and for a split of second, she thought she started too strong with her declaration of love. But then the same lips she kissed were on her, caressing her cheeks, neck, shoulders, and once Kim's hands dealt with her night gown, her breasts.

- Well, that's a first for me... - Kim muttered when she licked her nipple. - And a first for me too. - Ron added - Kim, can I...? - Dig in, you silly boy. - Kim spoke, unable to believe her own words.

Kim pressed his head against Yori's left breast, while she took care of her right one. Yori threw her head back, under the onslaught of emotions that overwhelmed her and she was not prepared for. Her legs thrashed underneath her friends' bodies. And she let out a primal scream when not one, but two sets of fingers found its way to her crotch, and when they met, Kim and Ron looked at each other and laughed.

- Looks like we've had the same idea. - Yeah, let's show our guest what love really means.

Just like with her breasts being taken care of by their two mouths, two fingers slipped inside Yori's pussy, much to her disbelief. She could clearly feel the difference in Kim's and Ron's styles; Kim was more delicate, yet slightly too cautious, while Ron's bravery made up for his lack of subtlety.

Kim kissed her breasts again, circling her nipple, while Ron peppered her stomach with quick, butterfly kisses. She felt-light-headed seeing her boyfriend making love to a different woman, the same she was adoring too. In any other situation, she would feel furious, ready to use any weapons she had to win him over if she even so much as touched him.

And now, she was caressing her, driven by a carnal, animalistic force that only rose in strength with each minute of their fondling. Soon Yori was whimpering something incomprehensible, and it was up to Kim, closing her mouth over Yori's sensitive clit to bring her to her climax, the same one she has been building ever since she heard Ron and Kim rustling half an hour ago.

Yori cried their names, and her body quaked, covering their fingers in copious amounts of slick juices. She hasn't stopped trembling, when Kim leaned forward and faced her, with droplets of her juices clinging to her lips.

- Yori? - she asked her guest - Do you want to see our love in action? - Y-Yes! - she exclaimed, looking back and forth at Kim and Ron, unsure what they will think of next. - Good, cos you are not the only who was robbed of a climax.

Kim straddled her and gently pressed her naked body against Yori's, feeling the texture of her, slightly smaller breasts on hers. Their lips got closer, and soon, the two young women were kissing again, deepening the embrace that just a day ago was unthinkable to either of them.

Lost in their sensual kiss, the two yelped when they suddenly felt something slick sliding between their joined folds, and only a rugged breath of Ron on Kim's neck reminded them of their third lover.

- Come on Ron, now you have twice the chances to prove yourself...

Kim wasn't surprised when she saw Yori's eyes widening as Ron dived inside her, giving Kim just a faint taste of his manhood's texture as it slid alongside her folds. Yori stared at Ron's eyes, as he laid his head on Kim's shoulder, her arms closing around both of her lovers.

Unlike the last time, Ron was on an unfamiliar territory, so his dives were slow and calculated, giving Kim chance to explore Yori's body with her mouth. A Mouth that soon also let out a sharp moan when Ron swiftly decided to change his object of admiration, slipping into her pussy for a few more pushes.

And so, with each minute, Ron was taking turns, pleasuring each of his ladies, alternating between two tight pussies that oozed with more and more of slick juices with each moment of their heated love-making. Yori's and Kim's bodies tangled, creating an equally tight embrace that rocked in its own tempo, especially with their hands gently caressing their most sensitive parts.

Ron on the other hand, was moving at his own speed, marvelling at the heavenly feeling of two sexes he could fill with his length. Whenever he pleased one girl, the other one received just a glimpse of what could happen to her next, and sure enough, in just a few moments the vicious cycle continued, building up their heat and intensity that pushed them closer and closer towards their peaks.

Under the caresses from not one, but two lovers, so openly accepting of her, it was no surprise that Yori was the first to start whimpering against Kim's lips, with Kim being just a step or two behind her. The combination of Yori's and Ron's grip on her put her in the middle of their sandwich, and on equally quick path to her climax.

And as their voices grew, Ron decided he can no longer choose; instead of filling either of their pussies, he rammed himself between them, feeling the overwhelming texture of two pairs of lips quivering around him, just a split of second before their voices and bodies exploded.

- Kim! - Yori! - Ron! - both girls cried at the same time, as the trio continued rocking their bodies back and forth.

With their names on their lips, and Ron's cock sliding between their joined pussies, their bodies shuddered with an explosive orgasms. Their arms reached for each other, bringing them closer, increasing the pressure they exerted on their boyfriend.

Kim was the first to recover, and hearing Ron's whimpering behind her, she concocted a devilish plan for their new partner. In the split of a second before his release, she reached between their joined, shivering bodies and yanked the condom from Ron's cock, sending a sly grin to Yori, who understood what was going to happen.

Feeling their pussies without his latex prison, Ron's climax not only accelerated but became a thousand times more powerful. Ron let out a primal, wild cry that sounded like his ladies' names combined, as his hips began moving on their own, filling the non-existent pussy with his essence.

And Yori could experience Ron's virility first hand. In the same moment of his primal cry, she looked directly at his cock, sliding between their bodies, and as a result, the first batch if his seed was short directly at her face, forcing her to turn away. But then, as more and more of Ron's sticky, warm strands began covering her body, she turned back and even opened her lips, welcoming a rope or two of his salty seed into her mouth, a sight Kim possible was pleased to see from her high ground.

Two weeks of celibacy manifested themselves in front of them, as Yori's body slowly became more and more glazed with Ron's seed, until only few patches of her skin remained uncovered.

Ron's rugged, raspy breath filled the ears of his lovers, and Kim braced herself to feel his tired body against her back, but Ron quite gallantly slumped to the side, though his eyes widened when he saw his work on Yori's body, so much so his cock twitched once more, sending every last feeble strand of semen across the bed.

- So, what do you think? - Kim asked, dragging her finger across the pool of cum on Yori's stomach - Do you think my boyfriend is good enough to be my mate? - Oh... oh yes, Kim Possible. - Yori spoke, swiping some of Ron's hefty orgasm from her face.- I... I shouldn't have doubted you... - Though of course, if you think I am his foretold mate, then logically, that belongs to me, doesn't it?

Kim scooped some of his cum and raised her brow, first at Yori, and then, as the corners of her mouth curled, at Ron. before he knew, a sight he never thought he would ever see was happening in front of his eyes as Kim leaned and began licking clean Yori's body, her loud, slurping noises silencing his erratic breathing.

Kim was meticulous, travelling alongside the path of each strand covering Yori's body, though she was taking a bit longer around her nipples, even though the cum there has managed to drip to the side of her mounds. Yori let out a gasp when she felt Kim's hand between her legs, and her sudden jolt made a few drops of cum change places, something Kim at once corrected, gathering them all in her mouth.

And just when Ron thought this would make his heart stop, Kim had one more trick up her non-existsent sleeve. She turned towards Yori and spoke, with some difficulties.

- But I am willing to share some of it...

And just when Yori was about to reach another climax, Kim's lips joined hers, and in the dark room, illuminated only by the lights from outside, Ron had a clear view of strands of pearly-white cum between their lips, swapped back and forth in a series of erotic kisses that would have made him collapse.

The girls turned their heads towards him at once.

- Ron? You okay? - Oh... oh god, Kim, that was...

His stuttered response was met only with their giggles, though both Kim and Yori helped him get to his knees after the sight of their erotic play made him lose himself once more. Kim quickly reached for the paper towel and offered it to Yori as a proper cleaning method - from her guess she would need to spend another ten minutes cleaning up Ron's mess.

- Thank..Thank you, Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable. - she addressed them both - Now I know for sure that the fate... and the future of the world is in good hands. Or-how do you say it-balls?

She looked at Ron's half-hardened cock, then at Kim, and a moment later, they all burst into laughter.

- Though, Yori, er... - Kim started, somewhat embarrassed - We are in the middle of our college education, so, we... we're not gonna star a family now right now... - Unless an accident happen. - Ron added, scratching his head. - Which we usually try to prevent. - Which means...

Kim's worried voice suddenly turned sly.

- ..that technically your mission isn't over, is it? After all, a lot can happen between now and, er... whenever... - I suppose... - Yori spoke, seeing the sly spark in Kim's eyes. - Which means I should stay and make sure the fate of the world is safe, right? - My reasoning exactly. What to do you say, Ron?

The two girls slowly turned towards their lover, whose eyes were getting wider and wider every second, as he slowly understood the repercussions of this decision.

- BOOYAH! - he exclaimed, much to girls' amusement.

And before they could react, he was kissing them, back and forth, rolling on their bed, slowly coaxing them into another round of love-making. Yori handed him a condom, and quite soon she felt the master of Mystical Monkey Power fill her again, though this time her vision was partially obscured by Kim's crotch Yori started licking at once.

When the morning arrived, and Kim woke up, at least two hours later than she would usually do, a few things became apparent: for once, they were going to need to buy a new, bigger bed. Secondly, they would have to switch to pills, as there was no way Ron would remember about condoms with two beautiful ladies in their flat. And thirdly, Rufus would have to cook breakfasts for three from now on.)

#kim/ron/yori #Kim possible #Ron stoppable #yori #smutember #smutember2020 #lemon #nautiscaraderfics

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