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love-and-monsters · 3 years ago

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The Bartered Wedding pt. 4

M Fae X GN reader, 9,695 words.

This is the final chapter of the Bartered Wedding saga (not including the epilogue. The other parts can be found here: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 If you're looking for some excellent artwork, @cozycryptidcorner made another lovely drawing of Pelatio, which can be found here. Thank you so much Cozy! Words can't express how much I love actually getting to look at my bastard boy, and I'm so happy he could provide inspiration. Without further ado, let's get on with the story!

Pelatio was standing in the garden under the pale light of the moon, much as he had been every night for the past fortnight. It had become a new routine- once the both of you were done with your work and able to retire for the evening, you went out into the garden to talk.

You wouldn’t have recognized it as a garden if you hadn’t been told that’s what it was. There were no plants. In fact, there were few plants anywhere in the house or surrounding lands. You’d found a few flowers sprouting haphazardly around the castle in the days after Floret’s visit, but even with help, they wilted and died rapidly. Pelatio had been unsurprised when she told him.

“Very few plants survive around here,” he said. “Flowers, least of all. The soil has little nutrients, and anything Floret left behind should be destroyed regardless. She’s quite the spymaster.”

It was an adjustment, going from a heavily forested area to a stone heath. It was the absence of green that got to you the most- everything was black and red and gold, ostentatious but not comfortable.

This garden was made of black stone that sprouted from the ground in enormous cones, like stalagmites. Some of them twisted into impossible curves or spirals, some grew into arches, and some branches outward in strange, Lichtenburg patterns. Most of them seemed to go together in a strange, but somehow sensical way.

“The gardeners have free reign on how they grow their crops,” Pelatio had told you the first time you’d visited the garden. “You can tell them apart by the styles they prefer- Pyrus prefers larger structures with arcs or spirals, while Argent likes creating many small, complex branches off of the main structure.”

You examined one of the stone structures. It jutted straight up from the ground for about a foot, then abruptly went parallel with the ground and corckscrewed for a couple feet. “So you grow rocks in your garden.”

Pelatio cocked an eyebrow. “More or less, yes.”

You were silent for a moment, taking in the scenery. “Interesting.” You cocked your head at the nearest stone structure, a little wary about touching it. “Do you grow different kinds of stone? These all look the same.”

“Ah.” Pelatio smiled and stepped forward, resting his lower hands on the structure. “They all appear the same on the outside, but on the inside…”

He reached out with his upper hands and took hold toward the tip of the structure. The rock groaned under his grip, then crumbled. Most of it seemed to disintegrate, crumbling to the ground as dust, but a sizable chunk was left in his palm. He held it out to you expectantly.

The thing looked sort of dirty and unremarkable. You plucked it from his hand and turned it, noticing the catch of the light on the stone as you held it.

“It’s a gemstone,” you realized. Uncut and unrefined, but you could see a red glimmer on its surface.

“A ruby,” Pelatio said, puffing up his chest. He stepped closer to you and his tail brushed against the back of your legs. “They grow here- mostly diamonds and quartz, as they’re the most popular spell components. But we make all sorts- and there are a few precious metal veins as well, but those are far less showy.” He paused for a moment and examined your face, as if making sure you were suitably impressed. “You can have it.”

“The ruby?” you said. Pelatio nodded, watching you expectantly. “Uh. Thanks.” You shoved it into a pocket. Fae clothes looked like they should have no pockets at all, given how tight or sheer they tended to be, but they always had pockets in spades.

He looked at you for a moment longer, as if hoping for something more. Eventually, he just waved his hand dismissively and continued with the walk.

That had been the first gift he’d given you. In the subsequent weeks, he’d been nudging more and more objects toward you. Most of them were gems of some sort- after the first one, they were all cut into striking facets. One of them was some kind of opalescent gem cut into a star pattern. When you held it up to the light, it sent brilliant rainbow lights shimmering across the walls.

Eventually, the gems had turned into elaborate jewelry. Gem-encrusted bracelets, elaborately woven necklaces of gold, some kind of metal belt that was heavy enough that wearing it felt like a workout. Every time he presented them to you, he would just stare, like he was waiting for something. Apparently you hadn’t given it to him yet, because every couple of days, he would hand you another gift.

It was actually starting to become a problem- most of the desk in your bedroom had gradually been covered in gems and jewels. You were running out of places to put the things. Wearing them was starting to look like your only option, but you’d never really liked wearing jewelry. At least, not the incredibly flashy jewelry like the sort Pelatio favored. Not to mention that wearing more than a few pieces at a time was heavy. And it wasn’t like you could even do that much with the gems he’d given you- they were pretty, sure, but about as useful as very expensive paperweights.

“Hello, dear.” You snapped back to the present, in the garden. Pelatio was looking at you, moonlight glinting off the silver woven into his hair. He’d started calling you that recently- you couldn’t tell if it was sarcastic or not. The tone was indefinite. “Daydreaming?”

“Just thinking,” you said, stepping up next to him. You cast a subtle look at his hands. He wasn’t holding anything. No gift this time, then.

“Thinking about anything in particular?” Pelatio asked. He extended one of his upper hands to you. You took it, his palm warm against yours. It was strikingly soft. His thumb stroked over the back of your hand.

“No. Just about that last few weeks.”

Pelatio gave a little hum of acknowledgement. You turned to head further into the garden, but he turned back toward the manor.

“I have something I want to show you inside,” he said, giving your arm a tug. “Come on.” One of his hands came to the small of your back, then he hurriedly removed it. You could feel his tail cautiously flicking against the back of your legs before he twisted his tail around one of his own legs. It slowed his walk a little and he constantly had to keep readjusting its position.

Once you were in the manor, Pelatio took a sharp left turn and followed along the wall for a few moments. Then he crouched and started tracing a fingertip along something on the floor.

You crouched next to him. The floor was inlaid with spiraling golden patterns. They were almost hypnotic to look at. You had to keep blinking to prevent yourself from falling into a trance.

Pelatio released your hand and hooked his fingers into the ground- the areas he’d been tracing had depressed, giving little slots for his fingers to set into. With a massive heave, he lifted an enormous slab of the floor up and shoved it off to one side.

“You have an underground hideaway,” you said. A sloping staircase led away into the darkness beneath the mansion. Pelatio dusted his hands off and straightened his robes.

“It’s more of an underground tomb,” he said. “Come on.”

You stared at the offered hand. “Instead of walking through the garden, you decided to take me into a tomb.”

“It’s not just a tomb,” Pelatio huffed. He offered his hand again. “I have something I want to show you.” You hesitated for a moment longer, then took the hand. Pelatio smiled and stepped down onto the steps.

The instant you crossed the threshold of the entrance, the ambient temperature dropped by about ten degrees. You suppressed a shiver. By the time you were a few steps down the stairway, the light from the entranceway had dimmed significantly. You couldn’t see the staircase more than a few feet ahead of you.

Pelatio stopped. “You’re slowing down.”

“I can’t see.”

“You can’t-” Pelatio started with realization. “Ah, yes. Mortal eyes. Very weak, aren’t they?”

You rolled your eyes. “I watched you walk into a wall the other day.”

“That was not-” Pelatio sputtered. “That had nothing to do with my eyes, I was just distracted!” His voice shot up an octave in indignation and you couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter. Pelatio sighed. “Yes, very funny. Look, just stay close to me and try to match my steps. I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

One of his upper hands came around your shoulders and his lower hand settled on your waist. With a slight tug, he had you leaning into his side, pressing your bodies together. You felt ridiculously aware of the way his hands were resting on you. One of his thumbs at your waist shifted a little and it sent a wave of tingling over you.

Pelatio held you for the rest of the way down the stairs. Once or twice you stumbled- the steps were uneven and your inability to see made it difficult to navigate. Pelatio’s grip was quite strong, though. Whenever you tripped, he would just tighten his grip and brace his weight against himself until you got your legs back under you. You had a feeling he could just tuck you under one of his arms and carry you down the stairs with little effort.

You reached the bottom of the stairs unscathed. Pelatio reached out and flipped some kind of switch. A series of glass baubles on the walls illuminated, casting flickering light along the walls. You squinted up at them. From a distance, they looked like lightbulbs, but when you peered closer at them, you could see that there were actually balls of flame, like miniature suns, trapped behind the glass.

Pelatio’s grip on your shifted, drawing your attention back to him. As soon as he caught your gaze, he dropped his arms away from you and folded them over his chest. His tail brushed against the back of your legs again before skittering away and twisting around one of his legs.

He cleared his throat. “Come. There’s something I want to show you.”

You followed him down the corridor. There was a slight but noticeable tilt to the floor. You were headed deeper underground with every step.

“Stop.” Pelatio held out one of his lower arms so you walked into it. He shuffled you slightly behind him. “Stay behind and close to me. This place is not entirely safe for mortals.”

“Then why did you bring me here?” you hissed. He took a few steps forward. You hesitated, but his tail looped around your ankle and tugged you after him.

“It’s safe as long as you’re with me. I’ll protect you.” He reached back and took one of your hands in his. His thumb stroked along the back of your hand.

You hadn’t gone more than a couple feet forward when an oppressive sensation fell over your body. All the air in your lungs came out in a rush. It was as if the air around you had become heavy, pressing in on your body like it wanted to crush you.

“Pelatio,” you gasped.

“It’s all right,” he said. “As long as you’re with me, you’ll be all right.”

The deeper you went into the tomb, the more you noticed etchings in the walls. They were in a language you couldn’t understand- it didn’t even look like the Fae writing you’d looked at in Pelatio’s library.

“It’s High Fae,” Pelatio said. He was following your gaze to the walls. His hand tightened around yours. “Old burial rights. All of my ancestors are buried here. At least, the ones who were part of my father’s family. When I die, I’ll be buried here. If I’m lucky.”

You weren’t sure you considered being stuffed in some dank tomb underground to be a fortunate thing to happen after death, but you didn’t protest. “I didn’t know Fae thought about death that much.”

“We do die. Not as often as mortals, but we do die.”

You peered around the walls. It was difficult to see with the flickering light, but there appeared to be abstract images carved along the ceiling. They seemed to be an array of complicated lines not intended to form any image in particular. “Will I be down here someday?”

It might have just been your imagination, but a wave of tension rolled up his spine and settled in his shoulders. “Possibly. Not for a long time, though.”

“I thought you didn’t think mortal lives were particularly long,” you said, casting a side-eye at him. It wasn’t your imagination this time. His shoulders tightened and lifted toward his ears. The lines of his face, highlighted by the flickering firelight, grew more intense as he frowned.

“They aren’t. But mortals who stay in our realm aren’t as susceptible to the effects of aging.” He turned his head toward you. His expression was unreadable in the dim lighting. “You are still mortal, and much more fragile than a Faerie. But death of old age doesn’t happen here.”

“Huh.” You turned that idea over in your head. “I didn’t know that.”

“I’m surprised,” Pelatio said. His tone was strange. You couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or curious or some other undefinable emotion. “I thought it was a common myth. It’s one of the reasons mortals will seek out Faeries. Long life. Immortality.”

“I was never one for fairytales,” you said. “And immortality never interested me all that much.”

Pelatio made a strange noise, one you could almost identify as grudging respect. “It is one of the perks of your marriage.” He came to a stop and you focused on the corridor again. You’d come to the end of the passageway. There was a massive circular door blocking off the rest of the hall. “And this is the other perk.”

You stared at the door. It was made out of a shiny, dark metal, and cold enough that you could feel it leeching heat from a few feet away. “A door in a tomb.”

“This isn’t just a tomb,” Pelatio said. “Or, it is, but that’s only part of it. The bodies of our ancestors are valuable, after all.”

He stepped forward. His tail brushed against your ankle for a moment before he yanked it back and twisted it around his own leg. He waved a hand at you. “Step back a bit. The spell can be unstable at the best of times.”

You backed up a few feet. Pelatio reached out with all four of his arms and pressed them flat to the door. The metal groaned threateningly. For a split second, something like electricity bolted up the door and along the engravings in the ceiling. There was a heavy ‘chunk’ like a bolt of metal sliding into place, then Pelatio stepped back and shook his hands out.

“It always sparks a little,” he said. “Watch the electricity. Your agelessness won’t save you from a nasty enough shock.” He caught your hand and tugged you over to his side. His tail tapped once against your ankle, then swept away to his other side.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting then he leaned forward and gave the massive door a shove. What you were not expecting was a mass of treasure that resembled nothing so much as a dragon’s hoard.

It was blindingly gold, but there were piles of silver and bronze and other metals you couldn’t identify. Things weren’t exactly disorderly- what had initially appeared to be a massive pile was actually many stacks of coins. Jewel-encrusted goblets and dinnerware were set in shelves scattered about the room, elegant sculptures were set in patterns on the floor, and there was an entire wall covered in weaponry.

Your family had been wealthy. This was bordering on obscene.

Pelatio was looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “It’s the treasury,” he said breezily. "All my family’s wealth is stored here. Precious stones, metals, treasures of the ground and earth- all part of our domain. We’re among the wealthiest Fae in the Court.”

It took a second to find your tongue. “You just keep all the treasure you get down here?”

“Not all of it. There’s some in the manor, but the bulk of it goes here for safekeeping.” Pelatio was looking at you more directly now. “It comes out if we need it as a gift or a bribe or as part of a trade, and obviously we can receive things that go down here.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” you said, which was true. You reached out for a chalice the size of your head, then paused. “Is it safe to touch?”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

You lifted the chalice. It was pretty impractical- even without any liquid in it, you couldn’t hold it upright. Carefully placing it back on the ground, you moved onto the next object. This one was a large candlestick with animals engraved on its surface in amazing detail. The next object was a massive silver necklace studded with gems that resembled the night sky. The next one, a sword with a curved blade.

As you moved through the room, examining anything that caught your eye, Pelatio followed after you. He didn’t say anything. He just hovered nearby, watching as you picked through the treasure.

“You can take something.” He spoke suddenly and you turned to look at him. He stepped back, like he hadn’t expected to be suddenly looking into your face. “It’s- anything you want. You can have it.”

His tail flicked behind him and knocked a candlestick off a shelf. You both watched as it rolled across the floor. Pelatio cleared his throat. “I want you to take something,” he said.

You straightened up from examining a dagger. “What for?”

Pelatio stared at you. “For- it’s a gift.” His voice tightened. “Anything in this room is yours. No restrictions.”

You spent a moment to look around the room. How were you supposed to chose anything? There was so much stuff.

And, you thought, what the hell were you going to do with it? The objects were pretty, sure, but pretty much nothing was practical. Anything you picked was going to be the same basic thing: something to sit on your shelf and collect dust until you chucked it someday.

Pelatio was looking at you expectantly, though. You rummaged around for a few minutes, examining items. There were several ornate daggers, but you’d never trained with them, and weren’t sure you could handle any of them well. And what would you do with a dagger, anyway? Kill Pelatio? The idea made something icy and unsettled squirm around in your stomach.

You looked over your shoulder at him. He looked back. His tail flicked back and forth, and he shifted where he stood. It was obviously a bad idea to kill him. Logically, it could only make the situation worse. But that wasn’t your first thought. Your first thought was Pelatio looking at you with fear and betrayal in his eyes. It hurt to think of that, worse than you’d thought. When had you gotten so attached?

Pelatio cleared his throat. “You’re staring at me. Do you need something?”

“No. Just thinking.” You put the knife back and turned to examine other bits of treasure. Eventually, a vase of elegantly-sculpted metal flowers caught your eye. There were veins in the leaves, tiny striations and imperfections in the petals. It looked like someone had simply covered real flowers with a thin sheet of gold. The petals were even done in a pretty shade of rose gold.

“This one,” you said. Pelatio stepped closer, tilting his head to get a better look at it.

“It is lovely,” he said. “Excellent handiwork.” He looked at you like he was waiting for something.

“Er,” you said. “Thank you.”

That didn’t seem to satisfy him, but he nodded and turned back toward the door. You followed him out.

“Step back again,” he said, waving one of his lower hands at you as he tugged the door shut. The air hummed and there was the sharp smell of ozone. A high-pitched whining sounded in your ears. There was a snap and a spark of electricity jumped from the vase to your hands.

“Ow!” You dropped it automatically. It clunked against the ground. “Ah, shit, fuck.” You reached for it automatically, concerned it was dented.

“Don’t touch it again!” Pelatio caught your wrist with one of his lower hands while his upper hands reached for the vase. “I didn’t realize the spell was going to do that. Are you all right?”

“Fine,” you said. There was a nasty prickling in your palms, and there were a few pink sections that were stinging, but nothing major.

“Mortals must be more susceptible to the spell charge,” he muttered, apparently to himself. He bent closer to examine your palms. “Are you injured?”

“I don’t think so.” The pain was nothing more than a sting, like someone had slapped your hands very hard. Pelatio frowned skeptically, but he released your hands.

“That’s good,” he said. There was more relief in his voice than even he seemed to have wanted, if the surprise on his face was anything to go by. He cleared his throat and made a vague gesture with an arm. “I- Mortal injuries are difficult to heal. Infections at the like.” He cast a cautious look toward your hands. “…See Infuego for that anyway. Just in case.”

“Sure.” You held your hands out. Pelatio looked at you blankly. “Can I have the vase back?”

“I’ll carry it for you,” Pelatio said. He tapped a hand on the small of your back as he headed down the hall. “Let’s go back upstairs.”

Pelatio fiddled with the vase as you walked. He kept looking at it curiously, examining the flowers within it. Eventually, he cleared his throat again and glanced at you. “Any particular reason for picking this one?”

His tone was light, but you could catch the underlying curiosity. “I like flowers,” you said.

There was a long moment of silence. You weren’t looking at Pelatio, so you couldn’t read his expression, but his silence seemed stunned. “That’s it?” he finally asked.

That got you to look at him. “Did you want another reason?”

“No. I was just- surprised.” He pressed his lips together, then spoke slowly. “It’s hardly the most valuable object in there. I wasn’t sure what made you pick it.”

“Maybe it’s not valuable to other people, but it’s valuable to me,” you said.

Pelatio frowned. “In what way?”

“Like I said. I like flowers.” Pelatio just stared at you. “There aren’t any here. I always used to love walking in the gardens when I still lived with my parents, and I loved being in the woods when I ran away. Watching something grow like that has always been so fascinating and rewarding. You have to pay really careful attention to it and make sure you’re giving it everything it needs. And it’s just nice to be around plants. They’re so peaceful. Everything here feels… well, no offense, but it feels sterile. They’re not real flowers, but they remind me of them.”

Pelatio was silent for a few moments. “Did you ever grow flowers back in your old home?”

“Oh.” Your shoulders drooped. “Uh, no. I liked the gardens, but they were always handled by our gardener. I was usually busy with other things, and even when I wasn’t busy, I wasn’t supposed to go play in the dirt. But I got to watch a lot. And I read a bunch, so I know the theory.”

Pelatio was silent for even longer after that. “The soil here is poor,” he said finally. “And there’s little rain. I am not certain plants could survive here.”

“There’s plants that don’t need a lot of water or nutrients.” You waved one hand absently as you tried to recall what you’d read in old books. “There are succulents, different forms of cacti… Those all basically thrive on neglect. There’s tillandsias, too, They’re called air plants, because they don’t need any soil. You just have to dunk them in water every once in a while. We could do that here, it’s not like we don’t have running water.”

You paused for breath and caught a glimpse of Pelatio. He was just staring at you. A strange, electric feeling darted up your back and settled in your chest so your heart thundered. It was a strange feeling to have his attention completely on you. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were so focused on you, like he was completely rapt with attention. You tripped over your tongue, fumbling your words. “Er- But they would need a lot of sunlight and it’s usually pretty misty here,” you finished up. “So, maybe it wouldn’t work.”

There was silence for a few moments. You could hear Pelatio’s steps next to you, his tail swishing slowly against the floor. “Here,” he said, thrusting the vase at you. “You should, ah. Have this back.”

You took it and he lapsed into silence again. The couple of glances toward him showed his face half-concealed in shadow, but his brows furrowed, like he was deep in thought.

He parted ways with you when you exited the tomb, sweeping off into another hall with barely a goodbye. You stared after his trailing cloak until it vanished around a corner. A little while ago, this behavior wouldn’t have been so strange. But now, you realized how unusual that was for him.

As you headed up to your room, you turned the past couple of weeks over in your mind. Ever since the morning you had fixed him breakfast, nursed his hangover, and agreed to try and be friends with him, he had been… well, he had just been around.

It was like living with a cat- you’d met a few strays before when you’d run away, even stayed in a barn with a bunch for a while. A couple of them had taken a shine to you. One was open with its affection, but the other one simply followed you. It was never close by, never within touching distance. But when you got up and moved into the loft, or into one of the stables, the cat would come strolling in moments later.

Of course, it never actually walked up to you. It would casually curl up in a corner, giving you a look like ‘oh, you’re here too? That’s funny.’ It would stay there with practiced indifference, as if it had decided to be here at the same time as you merely by happenstance. Of course, when you moved again, it would trail after a few minutes later with that same casual air, as if it had decided all by itself that this place was better suited for its afternoon nap.

Pelatio’s actions were uncannily similar. Several times, you had found him in the same library or study as you, despite having his own private rooms and servants willing to bring him books in his wing of the manor. You’d asked him about it once, early on, but he’d said something about the lighting being better or preferring to look at the books himself. It might have even been convincing if he’d been able to look anywhere near your eyes.

The fact that he was following you around only became more obvious the longer it went on. Several times, he would appear in the same room as you, even though you were wandering the manor at random, as if he had just known where you were going to be. There was a practiced casualness when he greeted you, and, more damning, when you’d asked him if he had come to see you, he’d given a suspiciously complicated response that didn’t end up answering your question at all.

It was clear he was following you around for some reason, but what that reason was, you couldn’t be sure. If it was some kind of attempt to spy on you, he was quite poor at it. You’d already caught him trailing after you from a distance several times already. The behavior was strange, but as long as it wasn’t causing you trouble, you decided to leave it alone.

More constant than that, though, was the routine you’d slipped into for breakfast.

The first few days after his hangover, you’d made breakfast for him. Part of it had been in the spirit of your agreement to be friends. Part of it had been to keep an eye on him. He’d been weird moody after that, either avoiding you completely or staring at you whenever you were in the room. Not to mention, you liked cooking, and this gave you an excuse.

The morning after he’d taken you into the tomb was no different. You were already up and in the kitchen when Pelatio slouched into the room, stifling a yawn behind a hand. “Good morning,” you said.

“Hmph.” Instead of flopping into his usual seat, Pelatio wandered closer to you. He stayed a couple of feet back, craning his neck to look at what you were cooking.

After a couple weeks of making breakfast for him, you had his tastes pretty down. He liked his eggs over easy, yolk as runny as possible, bacon so crisp there wasn’t even a hint of floppiness, and his toast on the darker side, but still soft in the middle. He’d also developed a fondness for biscuits, using them to scoop up leftover egg yolk and bacon grease. And his coffee needed to be almost half cream, but not a bit of sugar.

It was strange, cooking for someone else. You were used to only cooking for your own pleasure. Getting things just right for Pelatio to enjoy was an interesting challenge, but there was something immensely rewarding about watching him dig into food he enjoyed.

Your neck prickled and you looked over your shoulder again. Pelatio had crept closer, still craning his neck like he was trying to see around you.

“Do you need something?” you asked. He flinched back and cleared his throat.

“I’ve just…” He stared at the floor for a moment. His tail wrapped around one of his legs. “I’ve never really watched anyone cook before.”

“Never?” His skin was dark enough that it was hard to catch it when he flushed, but you caught a rosy tinge to his cheeks from the sheer incredulity of your voice.

“I don’t typically spend much time with the servants,” Pelatio muttered. “And I was never really allowed in the kitchens when I was growing up.” He crept a little closer. He wasn’t quite touching, but you were close enough that you could feel his body heat.

“Do you want to try and cook something?” you asked. Pelatio’s face scrunched and you were convinced that he was going to say no and huff at you for making him do menial labor. But then he let the breath out and shrugged.

“I suppose.” There was hesitation in his voice, but it didn’t sound like he was irritated about doing the task and more like he was… was he nervous?

“We’ll start with something simple. Toast.” You set a pan on the heat. “Okay, drizzle some oil in, and then we wait for the pan to heat up. While you’re doing that, you can start slicing bread.”

His slices were slow and uneven, but he got through it without cutting himself, which was a victory. With surprising elegance, he draped the slices in the pan and started to watch them. “Okay! And then you just need to wait for it to cook.” Pelatio nodded at you, staring into the pan and clutching his spatula like a lifeline. “I’ll finish with the eggs while you’re working on that.”

“It doesn’t look like yours,” Pelatio said after a few minutes. You leaned back over to look. The top of the toast was pale, but there was already smoke drifting up from the pan.

“You need to flip it,” you said. He stared at you. “Like this.”

Without thinking, you took his hand. His breath hitched in his chest. “Just kind of put the spatula under the toast and flip it.” You guided his hand through the motion. The back of the toast was, as you had expected, charcoal.

Pelatio let out a little huff. “It’s burnt.”

“Yeah. Well, everyone burns toast on their first try,” you said. “You have to keep an eye on it and look under to check sometimes. You’ll get the hang of it. Took me a while.”

“Perhaps,” he muttered, still staring at the pan like it offended him.

“We can eat the eggs and bacon. They’re ready,” you said. Pelatio made a quiet noise of assent. “You can sit down if you want. Just let me grab the-”

As you moved your leg, something caught around your ankle. Your stomach lurched as you wobbled, then overbalanced completely and fell.

“Ow!” The stone floor sent a jolt of pain through your knees and elbows. It made your eyes water, and whatever was tangled around your ankle wasn’t making moving any easier. You scrambled over to see what made you fall. Pelatio was standing above you, all four of his arms lifted in surprise, with his tail wrapped around your ankle.

“What was that for?” you snapped. Pelatio blinked at you, his mouth opening and closing.

“I didn’t- that wasn’t intentional!” he managed eventually. “Are you- are you all right?” His tail untangled itself and pulled back to his side. He looked at it like it had betrayed him.

You pushed yourself up and examined your knees and elbows. “Fine. Bruised, but fine.” You looked at Pelatio. He had the expression of someone desperately waiting for the floor to swallow him whole. “What was that about?”

“It was not intentional,” he said. “My tail… If I’m not paying attention, it can get away from me.” He looked at you cautiously. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

“Yeah.” You shook you’re your limbs. “Just a fall. Nothing too bad.”

Pelatio looked at you for a moment, then turned away with a flick of his tail. “Go sit down. I’ll grab us breakfast.” You nodded and limped over to the table. Nothing was broken, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful.

As it turned out, Pelatio made an excellent waiter. Having four arms made carrying multiple plates easy. He set two of them in front of you smoothly before slipping into his own seat. His tail was wrapped around his leg again, so tight it almost looked painful.

There was silence for a few moments as you ate. Pelatio was staring at you, though. He looked away when you turned your gaze directly toward him, but even out of the corner of your eye, he wasn’t being subtle. You’d seen him miss his mouth at least twice.

It only took a little bit of waiting before he finally said what was on his mind. “You gift,” he said, looking at his eggs. “How are you liking it?”

“It’s… nice,” you said. Pelatio huffed, eyes narrowing. “I do like it.”

“You’re not pleased with it.” Pelatio folded lower arms over his chest.

“Well.” You hesitated for a few seconds. “I appreciate the gift.”

His ears twitched, points angling downward. “Hmph.”

You waited for a moment, but he wasn’t saying anything else. “What’s the matter?” you asked.

Pelatio shifted for a moment, then sighed. “I am… struggling. To understand you.”

That hadn’t really been the answer you were expecting. “Huh?”

“You aren’t impressed,” he said after another pause. “I thought you would be.”

“Impressed by the flowers?” you asked.

“Impressed by all of it. The gifts,” Pelatio said. “You don’t even like them.”

“That’s not true,” you said. “I do like them.”

He wrinkled his nose. “You accept them. But you don’t react like-” He stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

You watched him as he picked over his breakfast. There was a little furrow between his brows. You kept having the impulsive feeling to reach out and smooth it over. That needling fascination with touching him had been getting worse over the past few days. They were all little impulses, the desire to smooth his hair back or let your hand rest on his shoulder or arm. Weird. You folded your hands under your arms. It helped, a little.

“The gifts are nice,” you said, finally. “It’s just that they’re not… things I really want, I guess.”

Pelatio stared at you. “What?”

“They’re pretty. It’s not like I don’t like them,” you explained. “But they’re not things I need, or things I want.”

Pelatio scrunched up his face for a moment. The urge to smooth your hand over his skin came again, stronger this time. You clutched your fingers around your elbows. “Why would you not want them?” he said. “Not just anyone would or could give you such things.” An edge of petulance was creeping into his voice. “I’m giving you impressive things. You should be impressed by me! Why are you just… not impressed?”

“I don’t want things that are impressive,” you said. “You can hand me all the shiny rocks you want in the world, but that’s not going to make me happy. It’s not going to make think you’re impressive, either.”

Pelatio slumped back in his seat. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at you. He just looked down at his breakfast and frowned.

You finished your breakfast and stood to wash the plates. Pelatio’s eyes bored into your back, almost hard enough for you to feel it. “Look,” you said, not turning back toward him, “I like your gifts fine. But I’m not impressed that you’re giving them to me.”

“Everyone else I’ve given gifts to has always been impressed,” Pelatio muttered. He kicked the toe of his boot against the ground.

“Well, everyone else you’ve given gifts to has been pretty shit, in my opinion,” you said. “They only liked you because you were giving them gifts- of course they were impressed.”

“What else were they supposed to like me for?” Pelatio moaned, slumping over the table.

“They could like you because you’re funny,” you suggested. “Or maybe because you’re clever. Or pretty sweet for a guy who acts like an asshole most of the time. Or because you’re actually pretty smart and hardworking and determined to prove yourself. Something like that.”

You turned around. Pelatio’s chin was resting on his forearms, his gaze fixed on you. His eyes glinted alarmingly. Was he going to cry? You hadn’t though he would get emotional. “Uh. Just… be yourself and pay attention to what other people say. Then they’ll like you. And if they don’t, then fuck them.” Pelatio’s ears pricked and he lifted his head a little. Strands of hair drifted across his face. “All you really have to do is be nice.”

“I’m terribly out of practice at that,” he murmured, but he was looking a little hopeful. “It’s not something Fae excel in, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Pelatio was silent for a moment, but there was an interested look in his eyes. Without saying another word, he stood and marched out of the room. Naturally, his plate was still on the table. You sighed. Baby steps. He would get there.

Surprisingly, despite how closely he’d been sticking to you for the past few days, he abruptly vanished from your side. You saw him at points, in the library and speaking animatedly to staff, but he would hurry off as soon as he saw you. It was strange, but not something you concerned yourself with. Faeries were mercurial at the best of times. He would talk to you when he was ready.

He still met you for breakfast, though you caught him staring at you with the strangest smile on his face every now and then. He’d also become noticeably more touchy- reaching out to straighten your collar, or hovering close to you when you cooked. You learned not to draw attention to it- he would skitter away like a startled kitten.

The odd behavior lasted for about a week and a half and concluded with Pelatio bursting his way into your bedroom so early in the morning it was basically still night.

You buried your face under the covers. The room was still dark, but Pelatio had conjured some kind of star-like lights that floated around him in a glittering wave. He pressed one of his upper hands to your shoulder. “Wake up, my dear spouse.”

“What time is it?” you groaned. Early, you were aware of that much. It was strange that Pelatio was up earlier than you. He got out of the bed with the same enthusiasm of someone going to walk over broken glass.

“Morning,” Pelatio said. He shook you. “Up you get. I have something to show you.”

He wasn’t going to leave you alone. Grimacing, you shoved yourself upright and turned to look at him.

When he came down for breakfast, he was still in his sleep clothes half the time, so you’d expected much of the same when it was even earlier. Instead, he was not just dressed, but wearing makeup and had done his hair. The outfit was ivory-white, with a shirt that draped open to give a generous view of his chest and pecs. There was a silvery chain belt at his waist which held up a pair of ridiculously tight white pants. He was wearing some kind of long tail coat that swished on the ground behind him. Shimmery powders dusted his face, giving him the illusion of being bathed in moonlight. His hair was partially braided on one side and woven with strands of silver.

“Wha-” You were dimly aware that your mouth was open. Mostly it was in surprise to see him so put together early in the morning, but he preened regardless.

“I thought you might appreciate the look. I’m quite pleased I was right.” He tugged on his dipping neckline, showing off more of his pectorals. “Get up. You can stare later.”

You hauled yourself out of bed, the paused. “Are we going somewhere important? Should I be wearing something like that?”

Pelatio grinned. “Well, I can hardly say I would mind you wearing something similar! But you don’t have to. Whatever you feel comfortable in is fine.”

You considered that for a moment, then decided on a finely-embroidered shirt and a loose set of pants. Pelatio watched you until you lifted your eyebrow at him. “Ah, fine.” He turned his back to you with a hefty sigh. “Mortals and your modesty standards.”

He kept his back turned the entire time you were changing, which you were both surprised by and grateful for. Once you indicated you were decent, he whirled around and spent a moment looking you over. “Very nice,” he decided. “I still think we should get you some more… fitting clothes.”

You snorted. His tone was teasing and unserious and he laughed when you did. “In your dreams.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, quite.” Before you could so much as process that comment, he stepped up to your side and held out his upper arm for you to take. You slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow. His lower hand settled on the small of your back. It was the lightest of touches, barely enough for you to know that it was there. And yet, for some reason, it set your heart racing in your chest.

Pelatio swept you out of the room, takin a pace that you could keep up with, though he was all but tugging you along. His tail whipped back and forth, tapping against your legs every time it swung in your direction. Instead of leading you toward the main hall of the manor, as you’d expected him to, he took a sharp turn at the bottom of the staircase and led you further into your wing.

“Where are we going?” you asked. Pelatio grinned. His tail wagged wildly.

“You’ve barely explored your quarters at all, have you?” he said. “I really expected there to be more signs of life, but you’ve barely been anywhere but the library and your room, have you?”

You frowned at him. “I haven’t really had any reason to do so.”

Pelatio gave an overexaggerated sigh. “We’re going to have to fix that. I’m convinced mortals don’t know how to have fun.” He shrugged. “Well, plenty of time to help you with that. And perhaps this will convince you to spend more time in this part of our home.”

“What will?” you asked. Pelatio grinned mysteriously.

“You’ll see.” He dragged you along down another hall and stopped in front of large door. It looked like a bunker door, metal and firmly sealed. Pelatio nudged you forward. “Open it.”

You looked between him and the door. His smile slipped ever so slightly. “It’s for you,” he said, rocking back a little on his heels. “Go on. I believe you’ll like it.”

With his encouragement, you stepped forward and tugged on the door. It was impossibly heavy; you had to lean all your weight back against it. Finally, after a few solid pulls, the thing budged with a groan that rose in pitch as you pulled it fully open.

The temperature difference was immediately noticeable- warm air rushed from the room as you opened the door. Sweat immediately began to bead on your brow. You stepped into the room, squinting against the white light coming from the center of the ceiling. Pelatio was right behind you, almost on your heels. “Well? What do you think?”

The room was full of plants, and it wasn’t a small room. There were four rows down the center, each one filled with a variety of plants. It reminded you of a nursery or greenhouse, though the air was rather dry. Near the ceiling hung potted plants of many varieties, some flowering and some not. In the center of the room was a sphere of light that radiated heat like the sun. It drifted lazily through the air, mimicking the motion of the sun across the sky.

“Has this always been here?” you asked, voice a little faint. It couldn’t have been, though. You definitely would have noticed something like this. But then how else could it have-?

“No.” Pelatio was staring at you, his eyes locked on your face. “Infuego helped me set it up over the past few days. They’re the one who did the sun enchantment, see?” He pointed up toward the light at the ceiling.

“You did this?” Hesitantly, you reached out and prodded at a waxy-leafed plant. Half of you was expecting it to dissolve like a Faerie glamour, but it remained firmly where it was. You poked it a couple more times to be sure. “Wh- how?”

“It took a while.” Pelatio swept by you toward the center of the room. You followed. There was a small clearing set up in the center with a few benches and tables, like there might be for a garden party. He sat on one of the benches and gestured for you to sit next to him.

"I thought you said we couldn't have plants because we might be spied on," you said as you sat next to him. He shrugged.

"You can't hear anything from the outside in here. We'll just need to be careful what we discuss when we're inside. Actually, the most difficult part was deciding what might best survive here- there are precious few books on mortal plants in my library. Took ages to figure out which ones would work. Hopefully at least some of these will live- I got a lot of different ones so there would be a greater chance something will thrive. Most of them are like you suggested, hearty things that don’t need a lot of tending.”

You turned around, staring at the variety that surrounded you. Most of them were mysteries to you, but you did see something that looked like aloe, a few cactuses, and a couple of tillandsias suspended above the ground in glass containers. “But… why?” you finally managed.

“Well…” Pelatio glanced down at his hands, looking, for a moment, strangely shy. “You said you missed greenery.”

The shock of the confession nearly bowled you over. He’d spent all that time trying to put together something for you? Because you missed your home?

The corners of your eyes prickled. You blinked rapidly. You were not going to cry.

“It’s not quite- well, I can’t think of many others I’ve known who would appreciate this kind of gift,” Pelatio said. “Certainly, the vase you received last week would have purchased all of this at least three times over. But you did say you missed plants and these ones should have the best shot of living here.”

“You did this because I mentioned I missed green offhandedly,” you said. Your voice came out weird, high and thready. Pelatio looked cautiously at you.

“Yes. You said I should pay attention to people, so… I thought about what you said. And I thought about… why I wanted to give you things.” He looked at you hesitantly. You nodded for him to continue. “You don’t want things from me. And that’s strange. I’m not used to not being wanted. And it’s…” His brows furrowed. His lower hands fisted in his coat while he twisted the fingers of his upper hands together. “It’s discomforting. I was… interested in you. And you didn’t want me.”

“I didn’t know you,” you said. Pelatio’s ears twitched downward.

“That was worse,” he said. “People want me. People don’t like me. If you didn’t want me… I couldn’t imagine you liking me. And that- that hurt. I wasn’t even sure why it hurt that you didn’t like me, but it did.”

You swallowed hard. There was an impulse to reach out and take his hand, but you felt frozen.

“But even though you didn’t want me, you cared for me. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to, and you offered to be with me without anything in return and-” He stopped and took in a deep breath. “I was surprised when you offered to be friends and I wanted to impress you.”

“That’s why you were getting me all those fancy things,�� you said. “You were trying to impress me because you wanted me to stick around.”

Pelatio coughed into a fist and ducked his head. “It sounds a bit ridiculous when you say it like that. But more or less, yes. But no matter what I did, you didn’t like it. I was worried, that it meant you didn’t like me or that there was no way to get you to like me.”

He fell silent for a minute after that, fiddling with his shirtsleeve. His gaze was distant, lose in thought. “What happened then?” you nudged.

His mouth gave a slight twitch at the corner, the barest hint of a smile. “You told me you liked me.”

“Did I?”

“Not in so many words. But when we had breakfast together, the day after I let you into the treasury, you listed things you thought other people would like about me.” He laughed. Something touched your ankle. You jolted, then realized it was Pelatio’s tail, settling securely around your leg. The grip was firm, but gentle. “It was strange, to hear that from you. But I enjoyed it. I thought perhaps I could give you something you enjoyed as well. You mentioned missing your plants, so…” He made a broad gesture to the area around him. “I hope that you like it. It’s not something I would often give to others, but… perhaps you’ll appreciate it.”

His gaze on you was surprisingly shy. “You did all this because you want me to be happy?”

“I wanted to give you something you would actually appreciate.” Pelatio shifted in his seat. “Er. It’s yours. You can command any servants to care for it if you wish, or you can care for it yourself.” He stood. “I will leave you to-”

He made a motion to step away, but his tail tightened around your ankle and he jerked to a stop. You peered down at it, trying not to laugh. “Uh. Do you even control this thing?”

“Sometimes, I wonder,” he said. “It has a mind of its own.” He tugged his tail, but it only wrapped more securely around your ankle. You burst into a fit of giggles. Pelatio glared. “It’s not that funny.”

“It’s kind of funny,” you said. “I guess your tail likes me.”

“It has a habit of clinging to people I’m fond of,” Pelatio muttered, not quite meeting your eyes. He crouched in an effort to unwind it.

“I haven’t seen it do this before,” you said.

“Yes. It doesn’t happen very much.” He sighed. “I apologize, I’ll try to get it off.”

“Hold on a second,” you said. “Look up here for a minute.” He tilted his head back to look up at you. “Okay. Come a little closer.” He moved his face closer to yours. You let your fingers drift down so you were cradling his face in your hands. He twitched, almost pulling back on impulse, but you held his face still. “Just hold still.”

You allowed your face to hover over his for a moment, then ducked in and pressed your lips to his. Pelatio started against your mouth, lips parting. His gasp tickled your lips as you kissed him, slow and firm.

When you released him, he fell back onto his elbows. Even his tail unwound from your ankle, limp with surprise. “Did you like that?” you asked.

“You kissed me,” he repeated. “But you didn’t want to-”

“I didn’t think you actually cared about me. I don’t want to sleep with someone because it’s a conquest for them. But this?” You gestured to the room. “You actually cared about what I said. You made this because it made me happy. Because you wanted me to be happy.”

“I know other ways I can make you happy,” he said. His voice was low with promise. “If you’re interested.”

You slid off the bench, pushing him back in the same motion so you were straddling him on the ground. His hands settled at your hips. “Watch the outfit,” he said, a lazy grin crossing his face. “I’d hate to stain this lovely silk.”

“Well, if you’re so afraid to get dirty, we can stop,” you said, starting to push yourself upright. His hands tightened on your hips as he pulled you back down into place.

“I didn’t say that.” He paused, his expression losing some of its teasing flair. “You’re all right with this? You were cautious before.”

“I am,” you said. “Are you all right with this? You seem a little hesitant.”

His upper hands shifted up and down on your hips while his lower hands hovered, like he was uncertain where to put them. “I’m…” His face screwed up and he let his head rest on the ground with a dull ‘thunk.’ “I believe I’m… nervous? Which is an unusual feeling for me, I can assure you.”

“You’re nervous?” you repeated, more incredulous than you’d intended. Pelatio groaned.

“Don’t you start. I’m not… used to doing it like this. With someone I-” He struggled for a long moment, then sighed. “With someone I care about making happy.”

“Are you saying you’re not a generous lover?” you teased. He groaned, rolling his eyes and tilting his head back so his horns scraped the ground.

“If you’re going to be like this, we don’t have to-” You pressed your lips to his exposed neck and he stopped with a full-body shiver.

“You can say you want me to take the lead. You don’t have to pretend otherwise.” He stared at you, unspeaking, but you could see his dilated pupils and the shivery breaths he was taking.

“If you’re interested in taking the lead, I wouldn’t stop you,” he said. His voice was magnanimous, but he wasn’t doing much to hide the shivers of desire running through him. You gave him your most wolfish grin.

“Yes. I think that would work well.”

It was some time later, you ended up back in your bed. Pelatio was snuggled up against you, his tail wrapped fiercely around your leg. It refused to unwind itself, no matter how much either of you tugged at it, so you’d resigned yourself to staying next to him for the next few hours. Pelatio rested his head in the crook of your neck, all four arms wrapped loosely around you. You stroked a hand through his significantly-mussed hair.

“I have something to tell you,” he said abruptly. His voice was sleepy, but there was a seriousness to it that made you focus on him. He squirmed out of the crook of your neck and looked up at you firmly with his ruby-red eyes.

“My name,” he said. “I want to tell you my name.”

Your heart almost stopped. “You’re sure?”

One of his hands rested against your cheek. “Yes. Another gift to you. One to make sure we are… equals, here. I can’t grant a mortal equal power in this realm, but I can at least grant you some power over me.”

You nodded. “If you’re sure you want to.”

He nodded back. His hand guided your ear down to his lips. When he spoke, there was a rush of tingling power through your limbs. One of his hands found yours, tightened around it. His name settled inside you like a weight, but a comforting weight. The weight of connection. The weight of companionship. You squeezed his hand back, felt him sigh into you. For the first time, a sense of absolute security washed over you.

The next part can be found here.

#exophilia writing #monster boyfriend #monster lover #Fae #fae boyfriend #fae lover #faerie #my writing #monster romance #monster x human #again sorry if this seems rushed I've been sick but I wanted to get it out on time

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salemwritesxx · 4 years ago

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𝓭𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽.

𝔹 𝔸 𝕂 𝕌 𝔾 𝕆 𝕌 𝕂 𝔸 𝕋 𝕊 𝕌 𝕂 𝕀

⇴ male reader ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ request: pro hero crazy buff baku meeting y/n's cutesy femboy ex boyfriend? And he gets jealous / insecure bc they are so different

↣ rating: general audiences ↣ warnings: jealous bakugou, fluff, implied nsfw but nothing explicit, hickeys

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Hand in hand, you were strolling through Akihabara with Bakugou. The other hand holding two bags of merchandise you had bought – a successful hunt indeed. Katsuki, however, only had one small bag with a new video game he bought for you both to enjoy, so all in all the free day you two had was very relaxing and stress-free for once.

Until it all went down the drain…

“Babe, do you wanna get something to eat before we go back?”, you asked while already looking around. You knew an incredible restaurant that wasn’t too far away from your current location.

“No, [Your.name]! Did you forget already? We need to cook something with the chicken in our fridge before it gets bad.”, Bakugou playfully rolled his eyes while nudging you. To think he was ever having such a …domestic talk with someone. A year ago he would have laughed hysterically at the thought of living together with someone and managing a small household.

“Oh… right.”, you chuckled before you leaned in to smooch him, “Ain’t I lucky to have such an amazing boyfriend who remembers these things.”

“Yeah, right. Keep sweet talking and I might even-“

“YOOOO [YOUR.NAME]!”, someone yelled, interrupting your intimate moment, hence Katsuki shooting him a death glare, however…

“Oh! Akitoshi, hey.”, you greeted the significantly smaller male as well.

“It’s been a hot minute. How you doin’?”, he grinned, then looked at Katsuki, “I see, already slipping into the next pair of panties, huh?”

This little bastard- Though Bakugou’s string of thought was cut when you just awkwardly laughed and hugged his muscular body closer to your side.

“Akitoshi, this is Bakugou Katsuki, my boyfriend, so be nice, okay?”, then you turned to Katsuki who was scowling, “Babe, this is my ex, Ninomiya Akitoshi. We mutually agreed to separate so there weren’t any harsh feelings, he’s a good guy.”

“Nice to meet you, bro!”, Aki tried to break the ice by going in for a fist bump, but Bakugou was not having it as he just kept staring at him.

“Hey…”

While you were talking to your ex for a few moments, Katsuki couldn’t help but start eyeing him up and down. He was small, skinny, feminine looking and kind of dainty. Everything he wasn’t. To be quite honest, Bakugou was the complete opposite. He was as tall as you, very buff and well-trained and suits wanted to cry when he would try them on because of his sheer build he acquired due to being a pro-hero for many years now. And seeing how your type was, very obviously, something very different before you met him… Bakugou was suddenly a little insecure and he hated feeling that way.

“Okay, well, Aki, it was nice meeting you, but we need to go now and catch a train.”

“Same, dude, same. Glad you’ve found someone you like, you look happy, man.”, he said with a small smile as he looked at you and Katsuki, who was still just grunting and holding extra tight onto you.

And with that, you and your boyfriend finally walked back to the train station.

Once you were at home though, you watched as he flopped onto the couch, hence you asked, “Okay, what is going on? Ever since meeting Aki you’ve been quiet.”

“What? No! He’s…”, he paused, then tried to fake a smile, “really… lovely. A nice guy.”

“Babe… I love you but holy fuck you can’t lie.”, then you sat down beside him.

“Hey, talk to me. Did he do something? I know the slipping into panties thing was weird, but-“

“That’s not it, [Your.name].”, Katsuki sighed and crossed his arms.

“Then what is it?”

A long pause followed where you just looked at him and Bakugou stared at the desk in front of him with your and his bags on. Only for him to finally open his mouth after a few moments of silence.

“I look nothing like him.”

“… And that is a problem… why?”, you were visibly confused.

“I mean, fuck he is… he’s a fucking femboy. I just- I am NOTHING like him. Your type is a skinny little dainty femboy and I am literally the complete opposite, so like- Why the fuck do you even like me?”, Katsuki finally blurted out, gesturing with his arms wildly before he flopped back onto the couch.

You, on the other hand, just stared at him for a moment in disbelief.

“That… That is what it’s about? Really?”

“Yeah… You probably could swing him around like a toothpick while I am… well I am heavy.”

“Babe, please. I love you, just the way you are. Just because Aki was one type of guy, doesn’t mean I can’t find another type of guy attractive as well, you know?”, reaching out, you took his hand in yours.

Drawing circles on the back of it, you then slowly progressed to touching his face and softly turning his head so he would look at you eventually.

“Hey…. I love you. I love that you could snap me in half at any possible second.”, thankfully, Katsuki snorted and mumbled an “Idiot.” yet he didn’t break eye contact as his hand slowly wandered down to play with your t-shirt.

“I love you too, [Your.name]… Thank you. I don’t know what happened to me, I guess seeing your ex just fucked with my brain for a second there.”, he then said before leaning in for a kiss that you happily returned.

“Hmh, it’s okay… I know you’re very different from everyone else I’ve dated before, physique and personality vise, but… I am also the most happiest when I’m with you.”, you gently played with his hand while smooching him over and over again.

“So I am better than anyone else, hm?”, Bakugou grinned instantly while being pushed back into the couch willingly, his big, heavy body pressed against your own.

“Hmm absolutely.”, you purred back.

Your hands were already busy slipping underneath his t-shirt as your lips pressed hot kisses onto his sensitive neck, earning his little groan that made your heart jump. Even though Bakugou probably wouldn’t believe you if you said it out loud, but… he certainly was very cute, even if he wasn’t dainty or small.

A very delicious smell softly shook him awake, ruby eyes fluttering open as he looked around for a moment. Sitting back up, Katsuki inevitably had to smile a little when he saw the blanket you put over his naked body, realizing once more how stupid it was to get jealous.

“Babe?”, naked as he was, he walked into the kitchen where the scent was coming from.

“Hey, Kat.”, you turned around a bit, though was it already too late when arms snuck around your hips and you felt a weight on your shoulder.

“Hey… The chicken?”

“The chicken.”, you chuckled and softly nudged his head with your own.

“If you hurry, you can still take a shower before we can eat.”

“Hm… sounds good.”, Katsuki whispered.

However, before he could walk away completely, he turned around once more, catching you off guard a little when he was back to hugging you from behind.

“Also… thanks.”, he only mumbled with red cheeks, before he nudged your head to the side to connect your lips.

“Hmmm…”, you purred while returning his kisses happily.

“Always. Now go.”, with a giggle, you playfully smacked his naked butt when he finally turned around and walked away.

And as Bakugou stood in front of the big bathroom mirror, he couldn’t help but blush even more intensely. His muscular body was visibly covered in hickeys, making him facepalm and sigh. Though… he also couldn’t suppress hat little grin that formed on his lips.

Really… getting jealous was so stupid.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: once more thanks for the request! I really really like buff baku, knowing he could very well snap me in half while still whimpering like a lost puppy and letting himself go during sexy time makes it all the better!

#salemswriting.#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x male reader #bnha x male reader #bakugou x you #jealous bakugou #bakugou x reader

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poedamneron01 · 3 years ago

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DREAMBOAT.

summary: you are new to AEW, a well known women’s wrestler for your daring and ballsy matches, Kenny is intrigued after the Bucks show him some of your matches, so intriguing he makes it his mission to find you and get to know you more.

Kenny Omega x f!reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety, swearing

Kenny Masterlist.

Kenny walked into The Elite’s shared locker room for a jam packed night of Wednesday Dynamite. “Yo, Ken did you hear about Y/N being signed?” Matt asked excitedly, looking up from his phone for a moment and Kenny sent him nod “Yeah, I heard she is a freak in the ring.” Kenny replied as he took a seat beside Nick and the brothers nodded “Dude, you should see this footage Matt found from one of her matches, six stars.” Matt shoved the phone in front of Kenny as he replayed the highlights of your match against their good friend Marty Scurll from a couple of weeks ago. Yeah, you were a fucking freak. Kenny’s eyes widened when he watched you take a DDT off the top rope out onto a table on the floor. “I think I am in love.” Kenny blurted out causing the guys to laugh “Is she here tonight?” He asked and Nick nodded “Yeah I think I seen her get dropped off when we arrived.” Kenny nodded, he made it his mission to find you and introduce himself.

You walked backstage with Tony Khan, familiarising yourself with all the different places you might need, like catering, medical and locker rooms. “You have your own locker room, we have you close to the gorilla so you don’t get lost.” Tony informed you as he opened the door to a decent sized room with a couple of couches and tables. You smiled and rolled in your suitcase full of gear and whatever you would need for tonight “Thank you,” you paused and turned to look at Tony “I am so excited to be here Tony, you have no idea.” He smiled brightly “No, thank you for being here. I’ll leave you to unpack and start preparing yourself, here’s a script for the show, it explains everything for your segment. If you have any questions or worries someone in the gorilla should be able to help if I’m not there personally!” You nodded and took the script from him with a small thank you, before he left and closed the door behind him.

You could not believe you were here. You had finally made it to the big league’s. All your crazy and daring matches, all the injuries and time off had finally payed off! You wheeled your suitcase over and lifted it onto the table and unzipped it, pulling out your gear and laying it out like you always did. You pulled out your headphones and slipped them on, playing your pump up playlist loudly before grabbing the script for the show and your phone, before heading towards catering to start preparing.

“Hey Tony!” Kenny called as he walked down the hallway towards the ring “Hey Kenny, how are you?” Kenny smiled and nodded “Not too bad, hey where is the new signee? I figured I’d introduce myself.” Tony nodded “Her locker room is the closest to the Gorilla.” Kenny nodded and clapped the smaller man on the shoulder “Thanks man!” He took off, walking quite quick and his heart belted his chest hard. But why was he nervous? It was just some girl from the Indies? Only you weren’t any girl, you were the best women’s wrestler in the business. Kenny finally reached your locker room and knocked a couple times, though was met with no answer. He frowned and looked around for a few moments, maybe you were out at the ring?

You were sat in catering, reading through the script, the segment you would be in specifically, biting the inside of your cheek anxiously. You were supposed to come out during Britt Baker vs Ruby Soho and ambush Ruby, seemingly aligning yourself with Britt, but would turn on her too. Do some spontaneous moves and call it a night, no biggie? You got up and set off for the ring, another thing you did ceremoniously before every show, music blaring in your ears. Once you walked out onto the stage, your eyes widened at how big the arena was, sure you knew AEW was pulling huge crowds in now, but you hadn’t realised how big they really were. You noticed the ring was completely empty, maybe it was because you were pretty early for a show? You walked down the ramp, eyes darting across the arena and thousands of empty seats, and the anxiety finally began to sink in. You pulled off your headphones, placing them with your phone and script on the floor beside the steel steps, before jumping on the apron and sliding into the ring. You clasped your hands together and did a few small circles in the centre of the ring in awe of the stadium, it brought tears to your eyes.

Kenny made his way out onto the stage, the stadium eerily quiet, though he spotted a figure stood in the ring and smiled to himself. He made his way down the ramp which caught your attention “Sorry if I’m interrupting anything.” He held out his hands as he rolled into the ring with you, leaning against the top rope “No, no I was just off in my own little world.” You replied and looked over at the man you noticed who was only one of the best in the world. “I’m Tyson or Kenny.” He extended his arm out, palm open and you nodded “Yeah, anyone and everyone knows who you are.” You chuckled with a smile and slid your hand into his, shaking it “Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” You told him and he nodded, curls bobbing “Welcome to AEW.” He continued to smile and you exhaled sharply with a nod “Thanks,” you paused and sat down in the middle of the ring, leaning back on your hands “I’m not going to lie, I’m freaking the fuck out.” You blurted out and he followed your actions, sitting down against the bottom rope “Yeah, I get it.” He nodded, folding his arms across his chest. “You keen to give me any advice?” You asked with a hopeful gaze, meeting his eyes and you noticed how gentle and inviting they really were “Honestly, just have fun. You know your craft, we won’t make you change it. Just keep being you because that is what the people want to see.”

“Wow, you know you could become a great inspirational speaker.” You teased him and he laughed “I seen your match with Marty earlier, it was fucking nuts.” He complimented and you felt yourself blush “I bet it’s nothing compared to your matches, I am a huge fan of your work, especially your time over in New Japan.” Kenny was in shock, how could a pretty girl like you, enjoy his work? “Thank you.” He fell silent, admiring the structure of face “Y/N I wouldn’t stress too much, everyone will love you.” He added quickly and you puffed your cheeks out as you exhaled deeply once more “God I hope so.” Kenny swallowed hard, “Did you want to grab some food after the show? I know what it’s like to be in a new company, some friends can help.” You took a double take, biting your lip to suppress the grin from spreading across your face. You nodded, looking over at him once more “Yeah, yeah that’d be really nice.” Kenny nodded “Just us two okay?” He added and you giggled softly “Yes, that’s fine.” He nodded, you were a dreamboat of a woman, and he only wanted more of you.

“There you are Kenneth!” You looked past Kenny and spotted two men walking down the ramp and towards you both. “Oh hey Y/N! Welcome!” The shorter one smiled and you could tell immediately it was Nick and Matt Jackson, The Young Bucks “Hey, thank you.” You stood up and greeted them, shaking each of their hands “Did we interrupt something?” Nick asked, a knowing smirk on his face as he looked between you and Kenny. You grinned “Only everything.” You teased and rocked back and forth on your feet “Do you want to be in our youtube series?” Matt asked as he whipped out his phone and you became nervous all of a sudden “No, no I don’t want to be a bother.” Kenny noticed your change in demeanour “No, you won’t be a bother at all come on!” Matt waved his hand in the air before looking over at Kenny “Do you want to join The Elite? We need a new member and you are a perfect fit!” Nick exclaimed excitedly and you shrugged “I mean, only if you guys are down, it is your thing after all.”

Kenny looked between the boys “How about we make it a progressive thing, like film us walking out onto the stage and see her in the ring? We just come out randomly on some Rampages and Dynamites and then eventually ask her to join?” You were surprised by how open and inviting they were and Matt and Nick nodded. “Alright, I’ll go and get Brandon so he can film we’ll be back!” Nick and Matt left you and Kenny in the ring and you laughed softly “You really want me in your group?” You asked in disbelief and Kenny nodded “We could use someone awesome like yourself, we can talk more about it at dinner if you want?” Kenny felt like all his chat and spark disappeared when talking to you, you left him like a teenage boy in high school. You nodded “Yeah, that sounds great.”

God Kenny was falling hard already.

#kenny omega x reader #kenny omega imagines #kenny omega #aew #aewedit #aew wrestling #aew all out #aew dynamite #being the elite #the young bucks #the elite

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Text

Aphrodite’s Stone [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT *sex pollen*

Summary: Your boss, Maxwell Lord, tasks you to acquire an important gemstone from the Smithsonian museum's annual gala, not realising the powers that it possesses and how it can possibly affect you when an accident occurs.

Rating: 18+ ONLY.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: SMUT (sex pollen, automatic dub-con due to the nature of it being a sex pollen), female recieving oral, thigh riding, fingering, creampie, boss x employee relationship, mutual pining. No spoilers for WW84 but some slight references and mentions of canon type mythology/lore. Oh, and there's actually plot!!

Author's note: Feels like all I ever do is write for Max Lord hehe. This is my first ever sex pollen so I hope it’s okay! I tried to make it as canon-typical as I could and I’m actually really happy with the outcome. Also I haven’t written mutual pining in so long so this has been really fun!

Masterlist

"Did you get the stone?" you whispered, waltzing over to Maxwell who had been schmoozing with a few of the gala guests. He stiffened up when he heard the sweetness of your voice. Your presence always took his breath away. He cleared his throat and placed his half empty champagne glass on one of the silver trays that were getting passed around.

"No, not yet," Maxwell admitted and you sighed. "I've tried swindling the geology department but they won't budge."

"Can't imagine why," you rolled your eyes sarcastically, referencing the time earlier in the year when Max had stolen a very specific citrine stone from the Smithsonian Museum. Of course their trust in him would've been altered. Maxwell quirked an eyebrow at your brief comment and you raised your hands defensively. "Sorry sir." you looked down nervously and he nodded his head, choosing to dismiss what you'd said.

"This is where you come in," Maxwell said, clicking his tongue. Your eyes met his again with curiosity. He took your hand, carefully dragging you to a quiet corner of the party. "You can get the stone."

"Me?" you asked almost rhetorically, your eyes turning comically wide. You were his assistant. He trusted you with menial tasks such as making coffee, handing over paperwork and grabbing his mail— not acquiring some ancient artifact from a different continent.

"You can do it!" he grinned enthusiastically. You were beginning to think he was putting on his charming and persuasive television voice and you furrowed your eyebrows together unimpressed. "Carol Thomas over there, she's the director of the museum. You must make sure she doesn't see a thing. But that tall guy with the dark hair? That’s Ken, and he’s been watching you all night."

You blinked in bewilderment. "He has?" you tilted your head, looking at the man Max had pointed at.

Maxwell's gaze burned into your body as you watched the geology department interact with one another. Of course he has— Maxwell felt like saying. Every man at the damn gala had their eye on you. You looked remarkable, and you were too humble to have even noticed. He brushed off your question.

"Go over there and butter him up a little," Maxwell smirked as you turned back around to face your boss. "But not too much." he quickly added on to the end, feeling a little too defensive over you. "Find out where the stone is. Can you do that?"

"What does it look like?" you mumbled, not really liking the idea of having to flirt with a slimy looking man just to get some random rock thing.

"Ruby." Max snapped back like there was no question about it.

You looked back at Maxwell, a small gasp escaping your lips as you took in his appearance. He looked drunk with desire, and you realised how much he must've wanted that stone. Maxwell's eyes were a beautiful shade of honeyed brown that sparkled under the amber lights; they were beautiful. You felt your lips curve into a small smile of agreement and you felt Maxwell's large, ring clad hand rest on your shoulder, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You made the decision to get the stone, knowing how much it meant to him. You hadn't even realised that the primal, hungry look that crossed his face was actually nothing but pure lust for you.

The second you walked away, Maxwell picked up his champagne glass and finished it off with one quick swing, the bitter taste of alcohol rolling down his throat. He tried to shake off these feelings he had for you, deeming it as unprofessional. He knew from the very start that it was a mistake hiring you. The moment he saw you waiting outside his office to be interviewed, was the moment he had to have you. But of course, his own insecurity meant that he felt as though he couldn't act on these feelings. He may have been a charismatic TV personality but deep down, he had his own, personal reasons that made him feel smaller and weaker than everyone else. For who could ever love a man like him?

"Hey, Ken, is it?" you smiled, extending your arm and grabbing the man's hand. You immediately cringed, feeling the sticky nervous sweat that coated his skin. The dark haired archeologist pushed his glasses up the curve of his nose and shook your hand a little too aggressively.

"Wow," he muttered, looking you up and down before clearing his throat. "Uh, yes. Ken."

You fake smiled, hiding your disgust, tearing your hand away from his and rubbing your palm against the material of your dress in disgust. You wanted to kill Maxwell for making you do this. From the dark, shadowed corner in the ballroom, Maxwell watched you intently, a flame of envy burning in the pit of his stomach.

"I hear you have an exhibition happening?" you took a glass of your favourite alcoholic beverage that was being passed around by a waiter.

"Yes, but it's not ready yet." Ken revealed and you nodded your head understandingly.

"That's a shame," you sighed, a fake sadness dripping from your tongue. "I'm a sucker for gemstones."

"Yeah?" Ken asked as you peaked his curiosity. "What's your favourite kind?"

"Oh, I like the red ones," you joked, and to your surprise, Ken actually laughed.

"We have a whole sub-section on garnet," Ken admitted and your lips parted slightly, omitting a small ‘oh’ as he continued on. "It's beautiful."

"I'm actually more of a ruby type girl myself." you explained, wondering if you were evening making the slightest bit of sense. Even if you weren't, Max knew that you'd be able to wrap Ken around your finger from your good looks alone. And he was right.

"We have one ruby," Ken whispered, leaning into you. Maxwell scowled as he watched Ken push his body into yours. He was seconds away from intervening. Max wanted the stone, but not if some slimy gemologist was making you uncomfortable in the process. Maxwell paused dead in his tracks when he saw you gently push Ken away from you, laughing politely. Max decided he couldn't watch anymore and decided to walk away, finding a group of women to distract himself with.

"Can I see?" you shot Ken your best pleading eyes.

"I'm afraid not. I could pull a few strings with the garnet collection but the ruby is 3000 years old. It's from ancient Greece, and it's the last of its kind."

You pouted, turning your heel, about to walk away, when Ken grabbed your arm and stopped you. "I mean!" he called and you raised your eyebrow, trying to hide your winning smirk. "I suppose I could pull a few strings. It's in the gallery, you must go alone though. And don't tell anyone. And remember to look— not touch."

You grinned, leaning in and gently pecking Ken on the cheek. "Thank you." you said, feeling his cheeks heat up under your lips. You pulled away from him and spun around. You watched out for Carol Thomas, making sure she wasn't looking before you slipped out of the gala and made your way to the gallery.

You were truly in awe as you looked over all the different rocks, each different sizes and different colours but all equally as beautiful as each other. Your eye finally caught the attention of the ruby Max had sought after for so long. You were no expert on geology but this didn't seem like any normal ruby, it sparkled and glittered and stood out from all the others. It was caged in an acrylic box, but it took no effort for you to lift the box off the crystal and swipe it, pushing it into your purse. It barely fit, but you managed to make it work. Double checking that no one was around, you swiftly exited the gallery and made your way back to the main party.

Maxwell wasn't in the corner you had left him, but instead, he was talking to a group of women; flirting no doubt. You rolled your eyes as they tossed their hair and giggled as he leaned into them. You couldn't help but wonder what exactly he was saying to woo them. Grimacing, you stormed past the group of girls and grabbed Max's arm, tugging and pulling him away from them.

"I got the stone," you informed your boss, briefly glancing back at the girls who were scowling at you for whisking away Max. You frowned, feeling unamused.

"Are you okay?" Max asked, sounding genuienly concerned. This was so dumb— of course you were okay. You had to be okay. It was completely fine that Max was flirting with other women, it's not like he had any interest in you anyway. It's not like you owned him. He was a grown man and he could do whatever he wanted.

"Yeah." you shot back, offering him a gritted smile. Maxwell nodded his head slowly and leaned into you.

"My driver is outside waiting. Head back to my office with the stone, I'll only be right behind you." you didn't know what it was, but suddenly, your boss' voice sounded dark and... seductive. The way his breath fanned over the shell of your ear made you shiver. Without saying another word, you left the party and travelled back to your workplace.

It was no surprise that Black Gold Cooperative was deserted when you let yourself in, sliding your employee card through the terminal and squeezing through the revolving doors. It must've been almost midnight, and you were the only one in the building. You slipped behind the main desk and booted up the computer where you had access to turn on all the lights in the building so it didn't feel so sinister. As you waited for the computer to turn on (and it felt like forever), you took out the gemstone and placed it on the top of the desk. Even in the darkness, there was something so attractive about it. No wonder Maxwell was so desperate to get his hands on it. He had an affinity for geology, although it was almost secretive. You remembered the one time he invited you over to his house, he had a whole shelf that was proudly displayed with rocks and minerals. It was a hobby of his that he didn't share with anyone else. But he trusted you.

He definitely shouldn't have trusted you.

You left your purse on the main desk as the lights finally illuminated the building. Holding the ruby in both of your hands, you carried it up the stairs, through the call centre and into Maxwell Lord's extensive sized office. You admired the way it sparkled and shone under the bright lights, so much so, you weren't watching your step. You let out a yelp as you tripped over a chair which had been carelessly pulled out, falling to your knees as the stone went flying across the office, landing near his desk.

You felt your heart sink into the depths of your chest when you heard it smash. No— there was no way. Gemstones don't just smash like that. Terrified, you crawled over to where the stone had landed and saw that it had quite literally smashed into smithereens; almost like glass. At least, that's how it sounded. The crystalized rock had turned into some kind of sparkling red fairy dust that looked almost magical. It was like a shimmering illusion. You scurried around the floor wondering how the hell this had happened. How the rock had smashed and turned into a pile of glitter. You knew you wouldn't have long until Max came back.

Your legs began to feel weak, but you decided it was just from your anxiety. Shit, the rock meant so much to Max. He gave you one job. One easy fucking job and you couldn't even do that right. You were so fired.

You began to collect the sparkling red dust in your hands, desperately scooping it up but sighing when it fell through your fingers. Your actions became more erratic, knowing your boss would be back any second. No matter what, you couldn't pick up the dust. You looked around his office, wondering if he had a brush or something to shovel it up with, but of course he didn't.

There was something weird… the dust from the gemstone wasn't just glittering, it was quite literally sparkling— gleaming, even. When you touched it, it made your skin tingle. It sent aches of heat flooding down your body. It was enough to make you suspicious but once again, you shrugged it off as nerves. You cared about Max so much, and he was going to be so pissed with you.

When you heard the double doors to his office swing open, your whole body stiffened up, your eyes squeezing shut. You were on your knees still, your back faced away from Maxwell as he merrily came waltzing into his office.

"I called Roman Antiquities from the carphone," he announced, his voice as vibrant as ever. "They're so happy we managed to get the stone," You felt your eyes grow comically wide. Wait— the stone wasn't even for him. It was for somebody else. Things just went from bad to worse. "So," Maxwell slid his hands into the pockets of his tailored pants. "Where is it?"

You slowly rose to your feet, scrunching your nose up in displeasure as you prepared to tell your boss what had happened. How you had been so clumsy. "I- I didn't realise you were sending the stone to Roman Antiquities." you mumbled, slowly turning around and nervously biting your lip.

"I didn't mention it?" Max shrugged casually. "Yeah, apparently it's in high demand."

"Ken said it comes from ancient Greece, and there's only one made," hearing the words leave your lips didn't make the situation any better, you realised. "Do you know what's so special about it?"

"Yeah," Max replied, walking towards his desk. "There's a lot of things special about it. Can I see it?" His dismissive tone made you feel small and uneasy.

"Max…" you drew his name out like it was the longest melody in the world. He looked up at you, waiting for you to continue. "Something happened. I uhm…" you let your eyes wander around his spacious office, refusing to land anywhere but him. He, however, was staring directly at you. "I had it with me. And I carried it carefully to your office but— I wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings and I-" you halted suddenly, feeling your whole body heat up, and a fire shooting through your core. You squeezed your legs together and pursed your lips into a fine line, stopping a moan from escaping. What was going on?

"And?" Maxwell urged, his voice growing increasingly more concerned.

"And-" you gulped. It was a weird, strange feeling. Like suddenly, all your scents had been heightened. The smell of Maxwell's rich cologne filled the room, intoxicating you and sending you into a frenzy. "Wow." you mumbled out.

Maxwell said your name sternly, breaking you out of your strange yet blissful haze. You were used to him saying your name, usually in a condescending way. But this time it was different. It was deep, gravelly and outright delicious.

"I broke the stone," you announced with a shaky exhale. You began to feel slick between your thighs and your eyes widened. Were you… aroused? You just about managed to look back at Max and suddenly everything felt different. You saw him in a completely different light.

Sure, you'd had fantasies about your boss before. He was an attractive, single bachelor and he always made you feel special. He always made you feel important. You would sometimes daydream about him at work, watching him from the back of the conference room as he led team meetings. You'd go home after a long day only to think about him whilst you showered, and even before you went to sleep. Suddenly, your feelings made sense.

"You. Broke. The. Stone?" Maxwell gritted out. Your eyes dropped down to fixate on his Adams Apple. Had his voice always been so sensual?

"Max," you whined, squeezing your eyes shut as you grabbed onto the edge of his desk, your fingers curling around the corner so hard your knuckles turned white. "I don't feel so good."

Max slowly walked over to you, looking you up and down. "Where are the remnants of the rock?" Max quizzed. You let out a moan as the feeling of arousal became excruciating. He called your name again and you just about managed to point in the general direction of the pile of glittering red dust. Maxwell's eyes widened. "Oh no no." he said, hurrying over and examining it, but being extra careful not to get too close.

"I know," you cried. "I'm sorry."

"Did you-" Maxwell swallowed the lump in his throat before turning back around to face you. "Did you touch it?"

"Y-yes," you drew out, rubbing your thighs together trying to create some feeling of friction, but doing so discreetly so your boss wouldn't notice. "I tried to clean it up."

"Shit," Maxwell muttered, hurrying over to his desk and spreading out a pile of papers. The papers were filled with information about the very specific ruby stone, and Max read it closely and as quickly as possible.

"What is it?" you asked worriedly. Maxwell's eyes widened and he wrapped an arm around you, carefully navigating you behind his desk and sitting you in his chair. You curled up into the softness of the leather seat, humming in delight your dress rode up slightly and the material stuck to the back of your legs.

"There's something you should know," Maxwell frowned. "The rock… they call it Aphrodite’s Stone."

"Aphrodite?" you breathed out. "Like, the goddess of love?"

Maxwell nodded, flicking through a few more of the pages. "Yes," he confirmed. "But uh- not just love. I mean, it was love, yeah but. She was also the goddess of beauty, uh- procreation, passion and…" Maxwell took a deep breath. "Pleasure."

You made a fist so tight your fingernails pressed into your skin as you shuffled around in the chair. Maxwell was so close to you, you just wanted to pull him on top of you and take him now— exactly how he was. But no, he was going on about some Greek goddess.

"Max please," you begged and his head snapped in your direction. You didn't even realise the way your chest was rising and falling, the way you were heaving and panting. Just the sight of you alone was enough to stir something up inside of Max. Beads of sweat laced your collarbones and hairline as you whimpered and moaned. "Can you just- please- tell me- what’s going on? What's happening to me?"

"The stone contains a kind of sex pollen," Max blurted out and your eyes snapped open.

"Are you kidding me?" you asked and Max shook his head quickly. "Like- a drug?"

"Yeah… and you touched it. Shit okay, let me go grab a bowl of water and we’ll try and clean the remnants from your hands…" Max said quickly, biting his lip and bolting over to leave his office when you shouted for him to come back.

"N-no, it won't work," you whispered, holding your arms out and ushering for him to come back over to you. "Please, please Max…" Your hands travelled to the hem of your dress as you started to peel it up. Max watched with intent, his once honeyed brown eyes turning so dark— almost black. His eyes raked your body as he watched you squirm in his office chair. The same chair he sat in every single day. "Please help me take this dress off. I feel so constricted."

"I-" Maxwell began but stopped when you sighed dramatically, tossing your head back.

"Don't fucking argue," you groaned and Maxwell felt taken aback by your attitude. You had never spoken to him like that before. He'd hate to admit it, but the desperation that dripped from your tongue caused Max's cock to throb in his pants. "Please."

Maxwell took your hand and pulled you up from his chair, briefly noting the wet patch from where you had been sitting. He had to sit back in that chair tomorrow morning, and you had made such a beautiful mess of it. His large hands manouvered around your body as he turned you around, finding the zip to your dress and pulling it all the way down to the small of your back. He took a step back as you shuffled out of it and he politely looked away, not wanting to invade your privacy or make you feel uncomfortable. He took off his tuxedo jacket and offered it to you, in case you felt the need to cover up, but instead you just glared at him.

Maxwell found himself subconsciously licking his lips as his heart rate climbed at the mere sight of you. There you were, standing before him in nothing but lacy black lingerie. He felt his cock grow thick and stand at full attention as he took in the sight of your alluring body. It was perfect in every way, even better than he had ever imagined in his dreams.

"What do you need?" Maxwell asked, his voice low. "What can I do for you?" The pollen in the stone made everything sound so seductive but you could swear that even amongst all the heat, you heard genuine care in his voice.

"I don't… I don't…" you weren't about to tell him that you didn't know, because that would be a lie. You knew exactly what you wanted, and he knew enough about the stone to know exactly what you wanted as well. You needed him, craved his body and ached for him to fill you up and pleasure you. You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to find the pride to actually ask your boss for this. Maxwell took a step closer to you, breaking any distance. He smelt so good.

"Anything you want," he whispered, wanting you to know that he'd be more than willing to help ease you. "Anything you want you can have it."

"Anything?" you asked, pressing your hands to his chest and letting your fingers trace the soft material of his dress shirt.

"Anything." he affirmed.

With that, you grabbed the straps of his suspenders and pulled his body into yours. A low groan emitted from the back of his throat as you pressed your lips against his. You wrapped your arms around his body, your palms laying flat against his back as he kissed you. His tongue licked your lower lip and you moaned wantonly, opening your mouth slightly and granting him access to explore you further.

Max's hands settled on your hips, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. You moaned, dragging your own hands to his hair and running his fingers through it.

You loved his hair, you always thought about touching it and playing with it. He always styled it so perfectly but, to your surprise, it wasn't hard with hair-product. Instead, it was soft and glossy and it was like you could feel every wave. He eventually pulled off you, gasping for breath.

"I don't want to take advantage of you when you're like this," Maxwell frowned, as you pushed him into his office chair. "I mean, shit. I want this. I've wanted this for so long…" he rambled on as you slid out of your panties and unclipped your bra. His eyes widened when he saw you stand on his office, completely nude and shameless. He thought you looked breathtaking. You were quick to discard the garments, unable to hide the triumphant smirk that played across your lips as you straddled him. You perched yourself on top of his leg and instantly began to ride his thigh, rubbing your soaking wet pussy over his expensive pants.

"Let me," you moaned, leaning into him and kissing his neck. "Let me use you then."

"Yeah?" Maxwell asked shakily and he felt you nod into his shoulder as you gasped out another moan. "Okay. Take what you need." he said before wrapping his arms around you and dipping his fingers into the small of your back. You could feel the coolness of his gold rings tingle against your warm skin and it only turned you on even more. You couldn't count the amount of times you had imagined the ridged feeling of his rings press up against your walls as he slid his fingers inside of you. Max flexed the muscles in his thigh and you yelped slightly at the friction. "Oh, you like that?" Maxwell asked, and done it again before you could even respond. You tugged on his tie, fumbling as you slid up and down over his leg. You just about managed to loosen it, pull it off, and discarding it on the floor amongst your other pieces of clothing.

"I like these," you giggled, tugging on his suspenders. "But I want them off."

"Cum for me first," Maxwell growled, feeling his hard member press against the confines of his pants. They'd grown extremely tight around his now throbbing erection. You looked down and gasped just at the sight of him. You lowered one hand, while keeping the other hand draped around his body, keeping you steady. With your free hand, you traced the imprint of his cock and smiled when you watched his eyes flutter shut from only your gentlest of touches.

"You weren't even affected by the stone," you giggled, humming in delight as you reached for his zipper. You didn't stop sliding your slick pussy over his thigh, your movements building up your oncoming high. "And look at you." you wiggled your fingers into his pants and your eyes widened as you felt his cock. "Fuck… Max Lord going commando?" your laugh came to an abrupt end when Max's grip around you tightened. He took your hand away from his manhood and set it on his bicep as he held you by your hips and muttered dirty words into your ear.

"Cum for me." He gritted out again, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and gently nibbling at your skin. He pulls his hands down to your breasts and squeezes at them, his thumbs grazing over your nipples.

"So close," you warned him as your walls began to contract against nothing. You ached for his cock, now more than ever. Still massaging your breasts, he reattached his lips to your neck and trailed sloppy kisses all the way down your collarbone. "Shit Max, fuck I cant," you gasped.

"Can't what? What is it baby?" Max asked, pulling away slightly and cupping your cheek with his hand.

"I can't cum without… without…" tears pricked your eyes as the gushing sense of sexual desire coarsed through your body.

"What do you need?" Max whispered.

"You. Inside me," you managed to stammer out with absolutely no shame. Max looked absolutely wrecked, his dark blonde hair that was once perfectly styled had completely fallen out of place and his chocolate brown eyes were glazed with lust. But he was gorgeous and you couldn't help but smile knowing what exactly you had done to the esteemed Maxwell Lord. You shuffled back slightly, and Max glanced down at the wet patch you had left on his pants. He couldn't contain his grin.

"I don't have a condom," Max admitted. The revelation surprised you as you pegged Max for the kinda guy who endured a lot of sex in his office. It seemed like the perfect place, but come to think of it, he never really had girls around. Only you. You didn't care that he didn't have a condom. In fact, you kinda liked it. You wanted to feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock as it filled your pussy.

"Good," you smiled, standing up with a wobble. Max stood up after you and cleared his desk before patting the expensive oak wood, ushering you to lay down.

But first, you pulled down his suspenders, unclipping them from his pants and throwing them to one side. You worked at his shirt buttons one by one until eventually, you pulled it off and dropped it to the ground. You wasted no time, unzipping his pants and pulling them down to his ankles. You licked your lips in delight as his cock sprung free and he stepped out of the pants that had pooled around his feet.

Max gently pushed you backwards into his desk and you hopped up, sitting down and laying back. "You're so beautiful," Max sighed as he drank in your appearance, wanting to savour this moment and remember it forever. "Open your legs." he commanded as he stroked his cock. He gathered his precum which had been leaking from the tip for God knows how long, letting it slick between his fingers as he jerked himself off at the mere sight of you spread out on his office desk. You obeyed his instruction, closing your eyes as you prepared to feel his cock push inside of you.

But instead, you felt his hot, wet tongue lick a stripe up your clit. Your whole body stiffened up as you released a groan you didn't even know you were holding back. "Fuck- what the fuck," you curled your fingers into a fist as he continued to cat lick you. You just about managed to open your eyes and see the vision of his head in between your legs as he devoured your dripping pussy. "You're really dragging this out, huh?"

He was good. He was so good. He knew his way around your body perfectly and you swore, in that moment, that perhaps you were made for each other. Maybe it was just the effects of the stone but you had never had such a satisfying sexual encounter.

"When I saw the mess you made on my leg, and how wet you were, I knew I had to taste you," Max admitted, his voice was gruff and sent vibrations through your core. He continued lapping you up, humming and moaning in delight on the occasion he'd suck at the bud of your clit and draw out a moan from your lips. "And fuck, you taste so good."

"But I want your cock inside of meeee," you whined.

Max didn't attach his mouth from you once, but he did bring up his hand and push a finger in between your folds and began to massage the entrance to your hole.

"Gotta prep you first," Max told you, before pushing his index finger deep inside you. He moaned at the feeling of your walls around him and felt his cock twitch against his stomach. Obscene wet noises echoed through his office, as well as your moans and pleas for more. "So greedy," Maxwell chuckled. "Always wanting more," he pushed in his middle finger, stretching you open. He looked up at you, his eyes hungry as he pumped his fingers into your pussy. It wasn't long until your legs began to quiver and shake profusely. You screamed when Maxwell pulled out his fingers and shoved them in your mouth. "Taste," he told you as you sucked on his fingers. "Good girl. See? You taste so fucking good. I could get used to this."

When you had cleaned your juices from his fingers, you felt him line himself up against your entrance. You reached out, holding onto his strong biceps for support as he thrusted inside of you. He grunted, squeezing his eyes tight shut as your walls tightened around you. He was big— bigger than you'd ever taken before. If you weren't so aroused from the stone, you wouldn't know if you'd be able to take him. He filled you perfectly. He pushed himself balls deep into you and then came to a halt.

"M-move," you whimpered, pressing your nails into his skin.

"Beg." he shot back, smoothing the hair out of your face and running his thumb over your puckered and sore lower lip.

"Please Max, please. Fuck me." you felt tears prick your eyes and Maxwell took the hint, finally thrusting in and out of you. Your cunt was so tight around Maxwell he couldn't believe how perfect of a fit you were. He dragged his thumb to your clit and started rubbing intricate circles as he increased his speed. His movements became sloppy and rapid as his fingers pushed you over the edge. "Cum inside of me," you gasped out the second you felt his cock twitch inside of you, indicating that he was close.

"Are you sure?" Max asked and you nodded your head.

"Never been so sure about anything in my life." you screamed, your back arching as you finally came undone. You absolutely drench him, and if it was any other situation, you might've felt a little embarrassed. But Max was in ecstasy when your cunt tightened around his cock like a vice and milked him of all that he had. He spilt his seed inside of you, the warmth coating your walls and shooting jolts of pleasure down your body.

You found yourself completely engulfed in a post coital haze, and Max kept himself inside of you until he softened and could slip out of you without causing you any discomfort. "You might be sore tomorrow," he mumbled, pressing a kiss into your neck. You hummed, whispering something incoherent but your smile was very telling. You had never been so happy. "But the effects of Aphrodite's Stone should wear off now."

"You took care of me," you whispered, your eyes slowly opening. You sat up and wrapped your arms around Max, pulling him into you. You felt completely and utterly spent, and Maxwell couldn't disagree either. He walked you over to his chair and sat you in his lap.

"Of course I took care of you," his voice was gentle and sweet like honey. "This was all my fault. And I should've warned you about the stupid fucking rock in the first place."

"Stupid?" you raised an eyebrow. "That was the most fun I've ever had," you laughed and Maxwell couldn't contain how happy your revelation made him. "But… are we going to be in trouble?"

"You don't have to worry about a thing," Maxwell hushed you, smoothing out your hair and pressing a kiss into your hair. Something in his voice made you trust him and believe in him. You just knew he wouldn't let you get into trouble. "I'm glad this happened."

"Me too." you whispered before closing your eyes and burying your head into his chest. Curled up into his lap, your naked bodies tangled together, you both fell asleep in his office chair. Maxwell Lord created a frightening and intimidating aura, but, the truth is, you had never felt more safe and more comfortable in your whole entire life. You knew that this happy accident was going to be the start of something great.

Taglists (let me know if you wish to be added!)

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love

This fic: @lostcherryinwonderland @thewayofthemandalorian

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #pedro pascal smut #ww84

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

Text

house sitting & concupiscence

— In which Endeavor asks Shouto for a favor, and Shouto decides to take his payment by fucking you on his bed. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, 18+ smut, dom!shouto, masturbation, toys (spreader bar, bondage, vibrator, collar, leash, gag, & fuck machine), master kink, spanking, temperature play, marking, pain, choking, torture punishment, overstimulation, voyeurism, slapping, oral (giving), hair pulling (receiving), semi-brat taming, anal (receiving), breeding kink

word count: 18,631

a/n: i know its long, but,,, please read LMAO. this took me a full ass week to write. im exhausted, im buzzing because idk how this went LMAOOOO, let me know what you think! please carefully read the warning, I will not be addressing anything about anal in my askbox (unless youre roasting me, which is understandable because lmao)

message to join tag list :)

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“Why are we going to your dad’s house?”

Tonight was supposed to be your date night with Shouto, and given that for the past two months, the two of you had been busy every day and night adjusting to being working adults, the two of you had been excited to go out. Next week would make two years, but it seemed the two of you would only be able to celebrate it during the dead of night. So, with a kind smile and a gentle kiss, you convinced Shouto that the two of you could celebrate the week prior. After all, it didn’t matter that it wasn’t quite two years; you both loved each other plenty enough to overlook the actual date.

Like for any celebration, you found yourself sitting in front of your vanity mirror as you applied your makeup. Your hair was done up in the most elegant style you could muster on your own, and you wore a simple yet gorgeous little black dress. Your head tilted in the mirror as you looked at your reflection. Your legs were shapely and smooth from the increased physical work you were doing, and the heels you paired with the outfit hung from your fingers.

You thought you looked hot, to say the least. What you didn’t expect was for Shouto to step into your shared room with his nostrils flared and eyes cold. Your eyes widened as you turned toward him, but the anger in his face disappeared immediately as he took you in.

His eyebrow quirked; a natural smile pressed into his face as his hands shoved into the pocket of his slacks.

“Don’t you look beautiful,” Shouto comments as he strolls up next to you. The steps were so casual, it was as if the two of you were strangers flirting in a bar, and not lovers two years into a serious relationship. “Who got you this outfit?”

Biting your lip, you chuckled, your arms wrapping around his neck, and you relaxed as he locked his around your waist. Your fingers rose to brush his short hair, the undercut was new, but it was a look you very much enjoyed on him.

Rising up onto your toes, you smile, seeing the way he leans towards you until your ruby painted lips brush against his earlobe.

“Your brother,” you tease, laughing loudly as he moves away, mock disgust and jealousy on his face.

“My brother? I’ll teach you to accept such pretty things from people who aren’t me,” Shouto warns as his fingers slip under the hem of the dress, eliciting a shout from you. He doesn’t seem to be deterred as his fingers hike the skirt of the dress further up until your cheeks turn red, and your protests are nothing but stutters.

“T-The reservations, Shoucchan,” you manage to get out as his lips press against your jugular vein.

“What about them?” Shouto mumbles against your skin as he backs you towards the bed.

“They’re s-soon,” you gasp as his teeth skim your skin, and his hands massage slowly against your ass. “We can’t miss it.”

Two months of hardly seeing each other also meant two months of not having sex or any sort of physical contact, and your actions exposed your need quickly. Your heels dropped with a loud clang, and you let Shouto do as he pleased.

To your dismay, however, the clatter of your heels on the floor caused Shouto’s ministrations to cease. Your eyes blinked as you focused back on him, your chest hammering and lust scorching your skin as you tried to concentrate on your boyfriend.

“Shouto?”

His eyes were once more consumed with the irritation and annoyance that had plagued him before you two interacting. Groaning loudly, you did not miss the way his eyes rolled before he focused back onto you.

“…we have to cancel the reservation.”

So, there you sit in the car, still dressed up with Shouto to your right driving, his hands clenching so tight around the wheel that his knuckles are white.

You sigh and tug his arm towards you. The way he attempts to jerk his arm away doesn’t escape you, but you still clutch his arm and lace your fingers with his. You place a soft kiss to the back of his hand and smile when you see him relax. It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“Are you going to answer my question, or are you going to leave me in the dark?” You ask again, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.

Shouto sighs and looks over at you. His face is still set with annoyance, but his eyes brighten when he looks at you, and his lips quirk into the smallest of smiles.

“You’re annoying,” he says, and you scoff in protest. He smiles broader and brings your hand to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to it.

Shifting in the leather seat to face him a bit better, you stretch towards him, your eyes wide with curiosity. “Answer my question, brat!”

Shouto sits there for a bit, gathering his emotions before he sighs, annoyed once again. “He asked Fuyumi-nee to take care of his house for tonight.”

Your eyebrows scrunch. You know that Fuyumi has a vital interview tomorrow for her job, and knowing the hero’s life, she would have to stay there late into the night. “Doesn’t she have the—?”

“Yeah, so she said no,” Shouto sighs, his hand in yours tightening. “Natsuo also has a lot of exams, and he and Endeavor aren’t on good terms still, so… that’s why he couldn’t take it. So, Endeavor called me and pulled a ‘you owe me a favor’ card from our second year. Didn’t fucking care that I had plans.”

“Why does he need someone to take care of his house?” You ask, trying to keep Shouto from hyper-fixating onto Endeavors’ ignorance detail. “He lives there alone?”

“He’s paranoid about some low-class villains going to his door when no one is there since his address was exposed,” Shouto rolls his eyes as the two of you pull into the driveway of Endeavors Residence. “Some fucking number one hero he is.”

“And he wanted Fuyumi to watch the house?!” You gasp, your eyes widening. Shouto nods his head as he unbuckles his seatbelt, and he’s out of the door before you could finish asking your question. You sigh and unbuckle your belt, knowing how infuriated Shouto is.

Your brush your hair out of your face, and the car door opened. You looked up with a small grin as Shouto offered you a hand.

“If I’m being forced to spend our anniversary here, I’m going to do it correctly, as if everything was going according to plan.”

Giggling, you let Shouto help you out of the car, and you couldn’t help but bring your exasperated boyfriend in for a gentle kiss. The kiss lasts less than a few seconds, but as you pull away, the irritability on Shouto’s face is gone as he smiles.

“I love you,” he says, closing the car door behind you.

“I love you too.” You smile like a lovestruck idiot as he begins to lead you to the front door. “We should have brought our costumes; surprise a few lowlives with our signatures.”

“Are you suggesting we let them rob Endeavor?” Shouto asks as he unlocks the front door.

“I just might be!” You laugh as you step in and remove your shoes.

It was currently five in the evening, and thus your date night commenced.

After two hours, you found yourself curled up on Shouto’s lap. You busied yourself with shoving popcorn in his mouth as you two watched Avatar the Last Airbender. The two of you had been watching it together since Shouto finally confessed that he had no idea why he was always compared to Prince Zuko.

Months of watching a few episodes every occasional night when you two had time lead you two to the finale now.

“I see the comparison now,” Shouto admitted with a mouthful of popcorn, and you hushed him again.

“Zuko may die!” You cried as on the screen, Zuko faced off with Azula, “He can lose, and you finally getting the comparison to the hottest man in the world is not a good excuse to distract me!”

“We can use fire, a scar, and a horrible father,” Shouto continues talking despite your attempts to quiet him as fire and lightning roared on the screen. “I was never the bad guy, was I?”

“You were a complete prick in the beginning, like Zuko,” you point out as you still focus entirely onto the T.V., “I mean, you did threaten to kill someone when we were fifteen. Talk about edgy! Plus, you didn’t want friends until Deku destroyed half of his body for you!”

“You’re an asshole,” Shouto huffs as he pushes you off of him, and you groan as you watch as he stands up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You call after him as you sit up onto your knees, you faced him as he walked out with his cellphone raised for you to see that he was getting a call from Endeavor.

Your mouth drops, and you nod as Shouto walks outside to talk with his dad. You settle back down onto the couch and grab the remote, pausing the show and sinking into the sofa. Your fingers brush against your dress as you wait for Shouto to come back.

It felt like an eternity before Shouto returned; the front door slamming behind him, causing you to wince. Shouto stormed over, his eyes blazing with fury, and he clenched a case in his hand as he glared in your direction. It would have been unsettling had you not known whom his anger was directed at. He stops a few strides away from you, clearly not in the mood to finish up the Avatar series.

“What happened, baby?” You ask, standing up. A soft scoff escapes his lips as he shakes his head.

“He thought I was here alone,” Shouto explains, his head low. “He makes me come take care of his house, knowing that I had plans tonight, then he expected me to be here alone?!”

Your eyes widen as a chill runs down your spine. Endeavor was not a people person, that was a given, and there was no saying whether or not he liked you being Shouto’s girlfriend, but for him to not like the idea of being here was a bit off-putting.

“Do you need me to leave?” you find yourself asking as you walked over to Shouto with short strides. You knew that their relationship, while it had vastly improved since three years ago, was still rocky. You wanted Shouto to be as comfortable around his dad as much as possible, even if it meant you stepping away when needed. “I can get—”

“No,” Shouto snaps, his nostrils flaring, a furious fire flashing in his eyes, and his lips curling into a wry smile. “You’re not leaving.”

“If Endeavor doesn’t want me—”

“Fuck what Endeavor wants,” Shouto growls as he lets you pull him into a soft embrace, but he’s tense and doesn’t melt into your touch like he usually does. “I want you, y/n, and he ruined our night. He doesn’t have the damn right to tell me what I can or can’t do when I’m happy.”

You nervously licked your lips as you stroked his back gently in hopes of derailing his palpable anger. There was just no use in having Shouto getting worked up about something that Endeavor wasn’t going to be able to change in the long run anyway.

“It’s okay,” you whisper as you pull away, your eyes trying to shine brightly as you press a gentle kiss to his mouth. “I won’t leave!”

There’s a harsh stream of air that escapes his nose, and he’s stiff against you, his lips unmoving, but he returned the kiss nonetheless.

“This is our night,” you whisper against his mouth as your lips press against his jawline and pepper slow kisses down his jaw. He seems to have an internal battle of remaining angry and caving to your touch. “You have a room here, it’s just us two, let’s have some fun! Come on, forget about Endeavor.”

As a hero, there were moments where you could feel impending danger or something on the horizon. Be it a sixth sense, or just fantastic gut feeling, but the moment those words left your mouth, they hit you in the gut. Pulling away, your eyes focus on Shouto, whose eyes are shut tight, and you watch as his jaw muscle flares before his eyes open.

Todoroki Shouto was no longer his younger self. While still prone to acting solely on his emotions, he was in control. The last time you had seen the pure rage in Shouto’s eyes was long before the two of you had been together, and something crawled down your spine as you attempted to speak, to understand what he was thinking about, and to stop whatever he was planning.

But then he let out a dark chuckle.

And you were too slow.

His mouth slams against yours, and your body goes back with the collision, but he doesn’t let you free. His kiss is hot, drowning, intoxicating, and full of burning energy that you didn’t realize he had in him. His free hand presses into your lower back, keeping you pressed against him as his mouth tries to get you to break. Your hands press against his shoulders in an attempt to slow him down, but it doesn’t seem to have the effect you were hoping for.

His hand leaves the bottom of your back to tangle into your hair, your resounding groan of both pain and pleasure resonates through you, and it clouds your judgment. Your hands — against your better sense — wrap around the back of his neck, drawing him in closer. His hot tongue swiped at your bottom lip immediately.

Not wanting to give in to his insistence, you purse your lips against his harsh kiss. He didn’t seem to agree with you. The hand that held the black case smacked against your ass, and you gasped at the stinging pain as the case rattled.

His tongue invades your mouth in an intense affair, and your mind spins at the way his tongue drops in temperature before warming up. It sends a pleasant and dull throb through your body, and you moan into his mouth. Were you really going to let Shouto fuck you in a house that wasn’t yours? The two of you had fucked in places that weren’t your house, but it was never a family home, much less his dad’s house, but his tongue curls to tease the roof of your mouth, and it sends an uncontrollable shudder down your spine.

Your cheeks glow with embarrassment, and your eyes are wide in shock. “Shouto’s really going for it,” you thought. His lips are scorching, but it’s his eyes that make your thighs tremble. His eyes are nearly glowing with lust and desire, there’s still that animosity in his eyes and a sense of arrogance that made you want nothing more than to retaliate.

“I hope you’re ready for what’s happening tonight,” Shouto smirks, and you pant trying to control your racing heart.

“You know I am,” you lie confidently, despite the tremor in your voice and the weakness in your knees.

His hand moves to your cheeks, and you feel a growing heat from his hand as he places yet another ardent kiss onto your slowly bruising lips. Shouto’s lips are magnetic against yours, continuously pulling you in, sucking you in until you were gasping for more. Then he would move to nibble on your senseless lips in your overwhelmed state.

Low and soft pants with intermixed gasps begin to leave your mouth as you try to calm down, this kiss was so unlike his typical embrace, but you fucking loved this dominant persona that he dons. Your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him nearer, eliminating the space between you so that nothing could dare to come between, but your hips have a mind of their own, and you feel yourself grinding your crotch against his.

A low and nearly angry hiss leaves his lips, and your breath hitches as his mouth leaves yours. In a fashion similar to yours earlier that day, his mouth presses multiple kisses against your jawline, but they’re sturdy, intense, and full of teeth. Your mouth drops as you let out a curled moan at the feeling of his teeth sinking into the skin below your jaw.

It wasn’t a typical love bite; this was marking. You could feel his intent to break your skin with the mark, and the heat between your legs flared as he took a step forward, and with that, you made a step back.

You’ve only been to this house a few times, and most of the time, you only come here for Fuyumi’s sake of keeping the family close. Awkward yet lively dinner conversations had led to Shouto showing you his childhood room that hadn’t been touched since he was fifteen. Sure, the two of you were nineteen, but a bedroom that hadn’t been touched in four years was something sinisterly haunting.

Shouto’s bedroom was the closest to the master bedroom — Endeavors room. That you knew because the grandest and most intricately beautiful door in this house belonged to Endeavors’ room.

Imagine the horror that sank in your when your lust hazed vision watched as Shouto’s childhood room passed you and your back hit a door.

“Shouto! This is—”

“I know,” Shouto growled against your burning neck. He had left enough bites on your neck to hurt, but the throbbing pain only added to the throbbing heat of your core. “You deserve to be fucked on a good bed, not my childhood one.”

“But Endeavor!” Pathetically you try to get him to move off you, but Shouto opens the door, and the two of you stumble in. “We can’t—!”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles as he pulls away from your marked neck, “he won’t know.”

Your eyes widened as he lets you go, and you hesitated in moving towards the enormous bed before you. This was too much, you couldn’t let Shouto fuck you on his dad’s bed! That would be so disrespectful! Blatant and honest disrespect! Even if Shouto was in a “fuck his dad” mood, you couldn’t let this happen.

Turning to face your boyfriend, the release of him on your body, allowing you to think logically, you were ready to stay firm in your decision.

“What are you doing?” Shouto asks as he walks to the bed, placing the black box onto the bed with a quirked eyebrow. “Get on the bed.”

“N-No,” you wheeze out. Wow, go confident you! “We can’t fuck on Endeavors bed! T-That’s going too far! I… I can’t do that!”

Shouto blinked slowly, once, twice, and then returned his attention back to the case as he released the clasps.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shouto says as he lays out a few things from the box, and a nervous shiver goes down your spine as you see what he brought.

A collar, leash, vibrator wand, ball gag, a spreader bar with bondage cuffs, so much lube, and a fucking machine.

Your jaw drops as he lays them out neatly, his eyes turning back towards you, and there’s a silent moment where the two of you simply stare at each other.

“That’s going too far,” you squeak as you pull at the hem of your dress, the nerves hit you as he shifts to look at you directly. “I can’t… if Endeavor found out, he’s going to kill us!”

“Endeavor isn’t going to find out,” Shouto’s upper lip curled into a snarl as his eyes flashed dangerously. “We’ll wash the sheets, whatever the hell makes you convinced he won’t find out. But right now? I fucking need you the way I was planning on having you.”

His words fall almost alluringly in your ears, and goosebumps flash across your skin; butterflies fly in your stomach as you moan at the thought of what his intentions were for tonight. You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as you thought it over, trying to figure out what exactly you needed to do because there was no getting out of this. You were beyond horny now, but it didn’t take much to see the danger in doing this.

But no, you couldn’t do this!

“Shouto, let’s — oh my god!”

Shouto, while you were lost in your thoughts, had begun to strip off his shirt. His toned and scarred torso ridiculously defined in the lighting of the room, and he stared at you dead-on as he ran a hand through his falling locks. Your breathing turns into a frenzy as he walks over to you, his hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks until he’s centimeters before you.

Your eyes struggle not to scour your boyfriend’s body like some hormonal fangirl, you recited the Pro Hero Guidebook in your head as you fought off the urge to just jump him. Were pheromones a thing for humans? If they were, he was definitely putting you under some spell that was making you succumb to his own lusts.

“I know what I want,” he whispers as his lips brush against your sore neck, and a voluptuous moan resounds loudly from you. Your breasts rise and fall quickly as your hands press against his warm skin, and your eyes flutter closed as his lips press heavier against your skin. “I know what I need. I need you more than life itself, and I only want you, y/n.”

Not daring to open your eyes in fear of having this gone too soon, you feel yourself nodding.

“Fuck me right then…”

A chuckle deep in his throat reverberated against you, and then you felt his lips back on you.

Hot, fast, dangerous.

You struggled to keep up as Shouto tossed you up, and your legs automatically went to wrap around his waist.

Hunger, desire, need.

That was the way Shouto kissed you right now, his lips downright eager, yet it wasn’t the right word to use. You could feel his hard-on pressing against your ass as you drew him in closer. Hands pressed against his neck, clawing at the bare skin as you wanted more from him — you craved more from him.

It was when you pressed your chest into him that caused a small yelp of protest to escape your lips. In your impassioned drunkness, Shouto had been holding your ass firmly in his grip. His fingers digging into your soft flesh under the hem of your dress until he seemed to be sick of it.

The sound of ripping fabric echoed in your ears as you pulled away from Shouto’s luring mouth. The dress fell loose around your body as you watched as he pulled the remains of your dress from between the two of you. You slammed your hands against his chest in protest as Shouto took the destroyed material and tossed it onto the floor.

“It was in the way,” Shouto chuckles as he ignores your protests as he brings you back in for another kiss. “I’ll buy you a new one, I’m the one who bought it after all.”

Your eyes twitch as his fingers trace the lingerie that remained secured on your body; the anger you had vanished quickly the moment he brushed his thumb over your clothed nipple. Yes, there were apparent problems with knowing everything about your partner’s body, as in times like this, your anger flew out the window as his thumb and forefinger pinched your nipple.

You reacted with a shrill mewl as your hips automatically ground against his, and your head slammed against his shoulder. You felt his cold fingers press the bra down, and your mind nearly went blank as his calloused fingers made contact with your sensitive nipples.

“S-Shouto,” you stammer as you feel your neck blushing as his teeth nip at your earlobe, tingling pleasure scorching your body as he does it a few more times. Low and sultry moans escape your mouth as the heightening bliss of this interaction was getting to you.

“Fuck,” Shouto chuckled as he began moving towards the bed, and you tremble as the friction between your crotches increase. The pressure of his clothed cock sends your mind spinning against your barely covered core. “You’re so gorgeous, love.”

Panting in agreement, your hips bucked weakly against his as the pleasure of him biting your earlobe, his fingers pinching, pulling, and rolling your nipple, and the way his hips met your grinding hips.

Low and pounding heat grew in your stomach, and you whimpered as his hand groped your breast.

But then it was gone, and your body was tossed against a soft bed.

The coolness and freshness of the sheets once more sent a memory of whose bed this was. And the consequences for your actions.

“Shouto!” You squeaked as Shouto climbed onto the bed, his hands holding the lube as his eyes glanced at you.

Lust, amazement, love, and confusion.

“What is it?”

“This is Endeavors bed,” you find yourself repeating, although you were past the point of caring. It just came back up like word vomit.

“Fuck what he says,” Shouto snaps as he drops the lube. His eyebrows were scrunched together in his annoyance and anger, and you could see the muscles flaring in his jaw. There’s a cold laugh that leaves Shouto’s mouth as he grabs the spreader, and you feel your heart stop. “I don’t like it when you’re saying other trash names when I’m about to fuck you, princess.”

Your eyes widen as Shouto is by your feet with the spreader, his head down, and his hair falling to cover his dark eyes.

“I think you need to prove to me that you deserve to let me fuck you.”

Before you could ask, before you could question his actions, Shouto tore your panties from your hips and held them in his fingers. His eyes widening as he sees the soaked thin fabric between his fingers.

You sat up straight, trying to grab for your panties, embarrassed by how wet you had been even though practically nothing had happened. But Shouto was faster and far stronger. With a heavy hand, he shoved your shoulder back, and you fell back onto the mattress, and as you collected yourself, something tight wrapped around your ankles.

“SHOUTO!”

On your ankles sat the spreader bar, the black steel shining dangerously at you as you stared up at your boyfriend, who placed your panties into his slack pockets.

“You’ll get those back if you behave,” Shouto hums as he sat down. “Now, if you want my cock, you better make yourself cum.”

“I’m not masturbating,” you snap embarrassed as you felt exposed. Your legs were wide open, your slick essence already coating your inner thighs and the smell of your sex filling your nose as you tried in repetitive failure to close your legs.

“Fine,” Shouto says coolly as he stands up from the bed. “Have fun letting Endeavor see you like this. Cunt wet and exposed like a filthy fucking whore.”

You’re stunned into silence as you watch as he walks towards the door, his eyes unamused yet challenging as he places a hand on the knob.

“But you would like that, huh? You’d let other men fuck what’s mine? Is this what you wanted all along?”

Shouto lets out a dry laugh as he dares you to not do anything, but the pure stupidity behind his words makes you angry. It boils in your stomach as you lay down, your eye contact not breaking as you pull down the other bra cup. Then your fingers trail from your collarbone down to your breasts, teasing your pert nipples.

Electrifying pleasure rolls through you as you play with your breasts. Each tug, pull and turn making your knees slam together in an attempt to get friction to your cunt.

“Come on,” Shouto smirks as he rests at the foot of the bed. His arms are crossed against his chest, and he’s drinking you in. “Put your fingers where you want me.”

“I’m not putting my fingers up my ass,” you grin, your bottom lip captured between your teeth as another building pleasure slams through your body.

Shouto doesn’t say anything, his eyes only getting darker as you bring your fleshy mounds to your mouth and take a playful bite.

Eyes were powerful, and Shouto had some of the most intense eyes you’d ever known. So the way he gorged your figure as your hand flattened against your skin while trailing down your navel to where you were desperate for attention set your skin on fire.

Your legs trembled as the nail of your middle finger teased the middle of your lower lips, and you felt like you were choking at the way he zeroed in on your teasing fingers.

“Give me a show.”

Groaning at the way his words clung to you, your fingers pressed against your throbbing clit as your eye contact was broken by your head tossing back. You were so turned on that this gentle pressure felt overwhelming as you cried his name.

Your other hand dropping your breast and pressed against your inner thigh, your other fingers moving from your clit to your cunt.

In went one finger, the initial tightness making you sigh as you pumped your finger with no intent in mind. Then went in another finger and another. Your inner walls clenching around your intruding fingers, making you gasp at the velvety warmth of it all. Eyes fluttering open, you move your wrist, and your fingers move fluidly within you.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” Shouto groans as he watches your movements like a hawk, his eyes burning themselves into your exposed cunt.

But it made you feel so good.

With a single heave, your pumping fingers increased in their speed and intensity. Growing so much, your walls squeezed against your moving fingers. Your fingers pounded into your wet core, the sounds of the entering and exiting appendages, making you whine as your free hand pressed against your clit. Your hips bucked up against your moving fingers in an attempt to further increase this intense desire.

Your fingers continued to dance against your needy clit as you shook.

Hot fire slammed to your toes as they curled in your overwhelming pleasure. Your eyes clenching closed as you rubbed hard and fast circles into your desperate clit. Your back arching off the bed multiple times, almost ending with you falling onto your side due to the imbalance caused by the restraint bar.

Faster and hard, faster, and harder.

The squelching of your soaked pussy and pistoning fingers were heavy in your ear as you shrieked. Your legs were spasming, kicking, and your hips thrusting as your end was nearing fast. Shouto’s name continued to be cried from your mouth as you curled your fingers in you, and your fingers pinched your clit, and then an idea slams through you.

Use Endeavor’s name.

And as your orgasm crashed through you, a pitched scream sounded in the room as it all clashed within you.

His name was used.

Your body trembling as you lay on the bed, your fingers still knuckle deep within you as you pant. Your slick essence coats your hands as you manage to sit up, out of breath, and staring at Shouto in a challenging way as you removed your fingers from within you.

There’s a scoff, a sound almost similar to a snarl, and you watch as Shouto shakes his head.

“Aren’t you being a fucking slut.”

Blinking slowly, you heard his pants hit the ground when the belt clacked against the wooden floors. Then you saw that he was by your legs, his cock erect and pressing onto his stomach, the head already beading. Pre-cum dripped from his tip, and you feel victorious at the way he was so turned on.

But it seemed that the dress wasn’t the only thing being destroyed today.

His left hand held onto the fabric of your bra, and you watched in heated horror as he reduced the lingerie to ash.

“Shouto?! What the fu— mmph?!”

Shouto shoved your cum slick fingers in your mouth, and you mewled at the taste of your sweet essence on your fingers.

“Suck it all off,” he practically hissed as he moved your wrists, emulating a blowjob as you groaned against your fingers. “You don’t deserve to be fucked like a princess, do you?”

Your protests against your fingers were ignored as he pressed you against the bed, and you choked as your fingernail stabbed the back of your throat. But it didn’t matter to Shouto, no, not at all.

“If you want to be saying Endeavor’s — fucking scum’s name in bed, I’ll treat you no better than a fucking whore.”

There was a moment of silence as he watched you gag against your own fingers, his weight keeping you locked onto the mattress. But then it was over, and his hand grabbed the bar between your ankles, and he yanked it up.

Your teeth lock around your fingers in your surprise, but he lets go of your wrist, your eyes lock on his as your knees rest beside your chest, and you blink in confusion as he glares down at you.

“Hold it,” he commands as your hands move to hold the bar. It’s cold against your fingers, and the areas that are coated with your saliva make the bar slippery and wet.

“W-Why?” You hoarsely ask, your throat thick from the continuous stabbing of your finger. Typically when the bar was used, Shouto always held it.

“I told you you were going to be fucked like a whore, right? That makes you easy. I don’t need to work hard for someone who does this daily. But that means you should be good at this, so see that clock? In ten minutes, if you cum more than three times, you’ll get punished.”

Your mouth opens to respond to him, but Shouto presses his hands against the bottom of your thighs and, with accurate precision, thrusts wholly into you.

Your grip on the bar almost weakens entirely as his cock fills you completely, your words of protest become gasping pleas as the tip of his cock presses against your cervix, and you feel dizzy, your fluttering walls adjusting. His cock was thick, and it was lengthy; your inner walls ached against him as you adjusted, but regardless of how tight it felt, you could sense your essence spilling from you as Shouto sighed.

He shifted, and in a matter of seconds, you watched as his hips snapped backward before thrusting back into you.

The stretch of your legs makes you feel as if you weren’t breathing correctly. Each breath was short and raspy as you clung to the metal bar as Shouto repetitively slams his cock into your cunt.

“Shit, such a pretty cunt you have,” he rasps as your walls spam against him with his wild thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, pushing you into the mattress, increasing the angle of which he drills down into you.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up in meet him, to increase this brutal force he was using as you crave even more. It was too much.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that you cried in embarrassment, but Shouto found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are music to your ears as his cock hits your walls every time. The stretch he gives you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gorge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal.

Your hands are weak against the bar, and it feels as if it’s slipping the moment he releases his right hand from your leg. You cry as the angle of penetration lessens, but his ramming continues at the same pace, and his fingers land on a puffy and sensitive bundle of nerves. The simple action set you enflame as you wailed his name, and Shouto bit your inner calf as his finger cooled dramatically against your clit.

The difference between your body that felt like it was on fire and the bitter ice of his fingers made your body spasm uncontrollably. The bar was being pulled in by your forearms as exploding pleasure slams through every vein in your body. But your thrashing and wailing do not stop Shouto, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the bed begins to sway with every powerful thrust.

“I needa— holy shit, r-right there!”

“What? Do you need to come already?” Shouto mocks against your calve, and you whimper as he bites it again.

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him in an attempt to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is curse loudly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. The feeling of Shouto’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure. His finger getting colder by the second as it simmers against your burning clit. Your heart hammering in your ears as you heard Shouto snap at you.

“Cum.”

The orgasm that had been surging within you crashed through you in a fiery white heat as your jaw slacks in a silent scream. Your body convulses against your hold and his, but Shouto doesn’t stop, not even when your toes curl, not even when you sob.

“Shouto!”

He pulled out then, his pants heavy in your ear, and something ripped through you as the weirdest sensation floods through you. Your cunt throbs uncharacteristically harder as you softly sob Shouto’s name.

You had squirted.

It was all over the comforter; there was even some on Shouto’s lower abs that shone in a mixture of sweat and you.

Your head slams back into the mattress as you can feel your heartbeat in your cunt, your chest heaving at the experience you just had. You’ve never squirted before, and your body felt like it was short-circuiting as you remained on your back.

“Look at that,” Shouto mused as he unfastened the restraints on your ankles, and your thighs crashed together, an inevitable soreness throbbing within as you lay speechless. That had winded you. “For someone not wanting to make a scene on his bed, you just wet a whole portion to it. I don’t think you even care if he finds out I fucked you on his bed, y/n. A little whore like you, you probably want the entire neighborhood to know.”

“I don’t,” you gasp as you struggle to find your breath still, and Shouto hums as he turns you over onto your stomach.

You’re not sure if it was a forcible push or something gentle. All you know is that your body burned where he touched you, and your thighs ached as you settled on your stomach.

“How the fuck am I supposed to fuck you like that?” Shouto snaps at you, and your eyes widen as you shift your head to look at Shouto’s whose cock is still erect, and you realize in a dawning horror that you had come twice now, and he had not.

Then there was the challenge, he only had to make you come three more times to do whatever insidious things he had planned. Your fingers fisted in the sheets as you groaned loudly. His body heat radiated onto you, and you rub your thighs together at the thought of Shouto gripping your ass as he drilled into you from behind.

You needed to get him to do that, but to make sure you didn’t come.

“I don’t want to,” you stall, hoping that in moments like these, it would help in your favor.

“Let go of the sheets,” Shouto ignores you as he gives a pointed look at your hands that clutched the sheets.

“Nope.”

The heat he provided was suddenly gone, and your eyes widened as a closet door creaks open. You watch as Shouto stands by a closet, a hand on his hip as he studies the closet before him, and you let out a strangled noise as you can already taste what he’s getting out.

“Shouto, do not!”

“Don’t what?” Shouto asks as he pulls out four brightly colored ties that Endeavor owned. “They’ll get cleaned up and put away, I mean look at the mess you already made, this shouldn’t concern you.”

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you look at the stained sheets below you, and you sit on your knees as you cross your arms.

“Using Endeavors clothes as bondage is going too far!”

Shouto looked at you, his eyes annoyed, angry, and uncaring, then he shrugs. He takes a few strides, and he’s back on the bed.

“He should have thought of that before being a dick.”

There was no time to react as Shouto grabbed your wrists in his hand and tugged you towards him. Before you could attempt to pull back, to resist ruining more of Endeavors’ personal belongings, the tie is properly looped around your arms, and you’re locked in place.

“Now on your hands and knees like a good slut,” Shouto directs running a hand through his sweaty locks while rising to his knees. The tie is almost uncomfortable with how tight it is, and you remain stagnant, staring at your boyfriend, who was insistently becoming more of a dom than you had ever seen him as. But with your lack of action, his expression sours, and he grasps your cheeks in his hand. “Are you fucking deaf?

You gasp loudly when Shouto’s hand brings your face to the mattress, your back curved, arms pressed into your breasts.

“I thought whores had better form than this,” Shouto sneers while pressing a heavy hand against the center of your spine. You adjusted immediately under his force, your back arching with your pert ass in the air. “Much better.”

The mattress pressed against your chest in a suffocating way, your heart hammering as you realized what was to come.

“Shouto, please,” your voice pleads again; his hands roam your ass and hips, whispering nasty sweet things to you while the tip of his cock presses against your still wet cunt. “Don’t make a mess of me, not on Endeavors bed.”

There was a moment of silence while his hands disappeared from your skin. Licking your lips, you turned your head to see what exactly his expression was. But you were too late.

He slammed his right hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. The pain made your legs buckle, a hot pressure reigniting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on your opposite cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you yelped loudly when Shouto yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your troubled skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“Who the fuck matters to you right now?” He hisses in your ear. “Is it Endeavor fucking you on this bed right now? No—” his hand comes down against your ass with every word, ignoring your growing sobs— “I’m the one fucking you. The only man’s name you should be uttering is mine. Do. You. Understand?”

The next spank that comes across your ass nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Shouto abused your ass.

“Answer me, whore.”

There was no stopping Shouto’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It delighted you.

“Y-Yes, sir!” You pant, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more.

“You like this, don’t you,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you here. Do you want me to leave you here? With no clothes, no way back home? Count the number of times I spank you, I want to hear you counting and thanking me every time.”

Slap.

“One. T-Thank you, sir.”

Your words were barely above a whisper, just enough for Shouto to hear you thank him as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a sneer as he let go of your hair, throwing your head into the mattress, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.

“I know you can fucking scream louder than that, don’t make me ask again. From the top.”

The words were like honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.

Slap.

“One! Thank you, s-sir!”

Your mind reeled as Shouto continued his conquest against your ass. You could barely remember the number you were on by the time he was done with you, the added sensation of his alternating heated and chilled hands increasing the desire in you to find you as you were now. Ass bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto your bond arms.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he observes as two of his fingers slide against your wet slit, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued petting you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips began to buck against his wandering hands, trying to get them to slip between the folds. “Such a greedy little slut.”

His chuckle is barely heard by you, for as he said that, he pressed the head of his cock into your cunt. A sharp whine slams from your throat as the emptiness of this action makes you crave more. You shift your ass back, the action full of temporary regret as soring pain flashes through your lower body. He did not hold back.

Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more.

“Is this not good enough for you?” Shouto chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”

At that phrase, Shouto slams into you at full force again, causing you to bite down hard against your saliva-coated and bound arms as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you focus on the nightstand and see the clock. It’s felt like an eternity, but only three minutes had passed since the bet was made. If you won, you’d move this fuck feast into his bedroom.

“Seven minutes,” you choke against your skin, not wanting to show how turned on you were.

The instant you were done chiding him, you regretted telling Shouto the amount of time he had left. The bed shifted by your knees, and you could only imagine what was happening as you could feel his cock moving out of you and slamming back into you.

The angle and power behind these thrusts were different than what you were used to from the standard doggy style. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, shrill moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you preened your head to look at Shouto.

Sure enough, Shouto was positioned on his feet, his knees bent as he dropped into your awaiting cunt with such savagery your eyes rolled back watching him. Sweat dripped down his neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.

“That feels so — fuck — do that!”

“Who—” slap— “Are—” slap— “You—” slap— “Addressing?!” Slap!

“Y-You, sir!” You scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second.

Shouto chuckles at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in a zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure had built up all over again.

His cock twitched within you, it knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.

“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.

You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length. Shouto curses loudly, pulling out of you while your cum drips from your folds. But a hot and sticky substance hits the curve of your ass while Shouto lets out a string of curses, and you moan knowing that he came on you.

“That was two,” Shouto reminds you as you groan into the sheets.

“That was two,” you mock hoarsely, but you’re unable to move, your body locked in the way he had fucked you.

“Look,” Shouto says, ignoring your disrespect, for you can hear the prideful smirk on his tone as he forces you onto your side. “You made another mess.”

“You’re cleaning up Endeavors bed when we’re done,” you whimper, making no attempt to sit up, your body screaming in pain when you lay still.

“You really can’t seem to get his name out of your fucking mouth, can you?” Shouto barks while he moves to sit against the headboard. “What do I have to do to get you to fucking forget him? Choke you until you pass out? Break that pretty little mind and pussy of yours?”

There is no time to argue, Shouto grabs your legs and drags you over to him, your sensitive ass burning against the cum soaked comforter until you were at his side. Your pained breaths still as Shouto glares down at you, his left hand undoing the saliva-coated tie around your wrists, leaving the fabric slightly burnt while he tosses it to the side. Your arms throb as blood rushes back through it.

But before you could relish the feeling of your arms back, Shouto has his chest pressed against your back, and his right hand angling his once again hardening cock upwards.

“Since I mean nothing to you, make yourself cum.”

With that, he dropped your aching pussy onto his dick.

The feeling of his cock wholly sheathed within you, mercilessly slamming against the wall of your cervix and staying pressed tightly there. The delirious sensation made your head crash back against his shoulder, and your legs kicked out in response. Loud and low moans reverberated from your lips while adjusting to him buried within you again.

Your mind reeled while you adjusted, and Shouto angled his knees up, his scorching and robust grip moving your legs outside of his, causing your hips to spread against him.

“I told you to move,” he snaps, his fingers twisting your sensitive nipple harshly, your resulting wail muffled by you burying your face into his neck. “I didn’t pay for you to sit there.”

Puffs of air escaped your mouth quickly, and your feet shakily pressed into the mattress. You needed to move for him. But you were too slow, and a sharp and icy cold slap hit your clit.

Your body impulsively arched forward, your body rising up from his cock before you collapsed back down. But the sensation of his cock hitting your cervix made you shudder.

“Faster.”

So you began to rise and fall against his length, his hot breathing fanning against your sweat-soaked skin made your body shudder against his. His fingers found a place on your hips to hold, and you moaned at his bruising grip.

Your thighs burned with every bounce of your body, your head lolling to the side, stammering Shouto’s name as your walls clenched and squeezed against his hard cock. You wanted more of him. You needed more of him. Choked out screams rung from your throat as your hand gripped onto his knees, your body trying to support the numb ache that was shooting through your body.

“Shouto,” you puff, his fingers digging into your flesh, making you gasp.

“Why don’t you follow fucking instructions,” Shouto gnashes his teeth, and his left-hand moves from your hip to your clit. A jolt of massive arousal shoots through your body, a warm presence pressing into you as he teases your clit, causing you to roll your hips against his. But it grows hot, hotter, and hotter. It’s too hot, and his movements are painful yet disgustingly pleasurable. Pained and animalistic sobs pouring from your mouth while he deliberately abuses your throat. “What are you supposed to call me?!”

“S-Sir!” You weep, slamming your hips back down against his in pathetic attempt to lose his hold against your puffy nerve. “I’m supposed to c-call you, sir!!”

“Then why haven’t you been?!” Before you could attempt to respond, Shouto’s right-hand leaves your hip and slams to your throat, choking the response from you. “I don’t want to hear your answer.”

His hand remains heavy and tight around your throat, his hold barely allowing oxygen to travel through to your lungs. Your vision fuzzed, and you could feel your heartbeat in your head, but your core shook with Shouto’s now reciprocating and rhythmic slams.

Choking, clit stimulation, his cock pounding into your cervix, his fingers hotter than coal, and Shouto chuckled into your skin. His thrusting hips were becoming more precise, angling into you in a way that made you audibly choke when you needed to gasp. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen to your body that was making you delirious, or perhaps it was the fact that he was slamming into you with the strength of rearranging your guts, but your hips began to swivel at an inhumane pace. Your cunt held a vice grip around his cock, yet it did nothing to slow Shouto down, but the growing heated pit in your lower belly was making your legs tremble against his. Still, you tried to keep up with his rough and cruel pace, and Shouto enjoyed knowing that detail.

“Such a fucking tramp, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He sneers, his teeth biting down against the curve of your shoulder. “You enjoy being choked?”

Your head nods, “Y-Yes, sir!”

“Do you need to cum?” There was no reason for Shouto to ask that; the answer was obvious enough. “Good.”

If you thought Shouto was rough, as soon as that word rolled off his tongue, he only got worse.

His hand against your throat tightened, and black dots littered your vision; the coldness of his ice burned against your skin. His teeth sunk far into your skin, enough for you to feel your skin breaking as his tongue moving in cold and heated strokes to calm your now irritated skin. Then there were his nimble fingers running against your clit, and entering your cunt between your spastic walls and his hammering and throbbing cock. But your bouncing held no value anymore, Shouto’s hips snapped upwards fast enough and powerful enough to overcome and overwhelm you. The only thing you could tell was that along with the tip of his cock hitting your bruised walls, the sounds of your sopping wet pussy crashing against his forceful hips rang in your ears in a primal yet excited fashion.

Despite his hold on your neck, nothing was holding back the scream that left your mouth as you orgasmed.

White stars filled your vision as Shouto ripped his cock from you, and that same sensation of peeing bewildered you as he held your body up. You had squirted again, but your ragged and shallow breathing had only increased, and there was something warm and wet painted on your back.

“That was three,” Shouto whispers into your ear, his teeth tugging at your earlobe, and you shuddered. “I should get extra points for making you squirt.”

To that, all you could muster was an embarrassing moan as your dazed eyes focused on yet another wet stain on the bed. Three minutes left, that’s how much you had to endure to win.

Three more minutes.

Unfortunately for you, Shouto was well aware of this, so he wasted no time.

Once again, he shoved you to the side. Your body crumpling onto the mattress, aching and sharp pains flooding your body as you lay there. Your clit throbbed in time with your heartbeat, and your inner thighs were coated entirely with your cum — both new and old. Maybe your body would be incapable of cumming at this point now? You sure hoped so… or not.

“Up,” Shouto commanded but gave you no autonomy since he grabbed your hair by the roots and tugged you onto your knees. You whimper in your throat at the stabbing pain settling in your lower body, you were still recovering from him rearranging your guts. But you caught sight of the cum he had released onto your back pressed all over the covers, and your breathing stopped.

“Shou— ack!!”

A collar locked around your throat, and you wheezed loudly; you hadn’t managed to catch your breath still. Your body swayed forward into his hold as your head spun due to the lack of oxygen, but Shouto seized you his eyes wide and worried as he stared at you.

“Shit, baby, are you okay?”

You nodded your head, oxygen slowly spreading back into your body.

“Sorry,” you hoarse, pushing away, your face burning with embarrassment. “You just surprised me.”

Shouto seemed unconvinced as his hands held onto your cheeks, his fingers stroking your sweat plastered hair out of the way, tracing your bruised lips and against the marks and bites on your exposed skin. The delicate touches are long forgotten on your skin, your lips sighing while he sends warm pulses from his fingers to the aches of your joints.

“You sure?”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved Shouto away, “I’m fine! You just made me spread your cum on Endeavor’s bed!”

Just like that, your loving boyfriend died, and the man who had been fucking you this entire day was back. His hands locked back to where the collar was, and your eyes nearly boggled out of your sockets when he tightened it more until it burned to breathe. But you remained calmed as a black leash appeared from seemingly nowhere and attached to the collar.

“Since you liked being choked so much, I might as well give you what you want without straining me.”

Your eyes widened, your ability to talk back removed.

“Now, ride my cock again,” he grins with the slightest hint sadistic, and as you move to do as instructed, he yanks at the leash. Falling onto your hands, your eyes widen while you stare at Shouto, who merely raises a cocky brow at you. “You have two minutes to make yourself cum.”

“I’m not going to,” you strain, the choking of the collar and the simple manipulation of your body already making that all too familiar heat spread upon your loins.

“You don’t have a choice,” Shouto mocks, his hand moving to grasp the leash centimeters from the collar and yanks your face close to his. But the movement is sharp and rough, the collar strangling you. You scramble on your hands and knees to get closer, stopping when his lips ghost over yours. “And you won’t have one until you’re begging me to fuck you into a puddle, not until you’re nothing more than my cum slut, and until you no longer care about dirtying Endeavors bed.”

The words are fire on your skin, and bubbling lust grows in you again.

There’s nothing to say except give a doe-eyed nod, but Shouto appreciates this submission as his lips take yours. They’re hungry, possessive, and ardent, moving against your mouth with fervent intention. Your mind slips when you straddle him, your soaked core brushing against his tip, and Shouto guides you back down onto his cock.

Your abused pussy had been through a lot, and a loud hiss passes through your teeth as you sunk all the way on him. Your teeth biting onto Shouto’s lip to control the pain-filled pleasure that corroded your body at the moment. It still felt so crazed, the sensation of your heartbeat in your inner walls shifting and hugging Shouto’s still throbbing head,

But the slowness is gone when Shouto pulls away. His hands on the leash as he yanks the cord up and back down.

“Follow my actions, “ Shouto warns, and you weakly nod.

His hand moves the leash back and forward, and the soreness of your cunt bleeds into your actions as you imitate him. Your rolling hips are slow, your hands pressing against his shoulders as you roll your hips against him. There’s a dark mutter from Shouto’s mouth when you lock eyes with him, and his nostrils flare. His hand suddenly grabs onto your waist, making you freeze in your decent back down onto his cock, but he beats you too it, for his cock rams into your dripping cunt. A shriek ripping from your throat as he pounds into you. Your fingers digging into his shoulders to hold onto for support.

“SHOUTO!” You shriek as he ruthlessly slams into you. His hips coming up so fast your body bounces with every thrust. Your moans tumble out in chokes, your face turning red as oxygen fails to fill your lungs. The thrusting is intense, and your hands on his shoulder are more of a lifeline; the bed is quick to move with your movements, the considerable bed groaning under the harsh actions. Its squeaks and tremors are loud in your ear alongside his insistent pounding.

“What’s that, whore?” He growls, his hips hammering into you at mind fogging speed. The leash on the collar being yanked to pull you closer; your bare and sweat-slick skin pressed against his. “What’s my fucking name?!”

“Sir!” you shriek as your pussy throbs around his pounding cock. You’re unable to even twirl your hips in rhythm with him. You were stuck to the lap, only able to feel his cock entering you at toe-curling speeds. “Oh my god, FUCK, please— I —shit!”

Words failed you miserably as Shouto’s hot and sweet tongue drags against your collarbone, his teeth burying into your primed skin as your eyes roll back.

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. One more minute.

“You take my cock so well,” Shouto grunts as he releases one hand from your waist and runs it down your navel to press against your clit. Your head throws back, your back arching further into his chest as you scream again. Your pussy clenching with no remorse around his cock. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Do you want to come now, slut?”

You can only shake your head, you didn’t want to cum; the pressure continues to build and build.

“I need to hear your words.”

“I don’t need to cum,” you sob out as your body trembles under his thrusting, you’re so close you see stars. “I don’t need to — sir, please, I can — oH SHIT!!!”

Shouto growls as his hand wraps around the leash, wrapping it around your bruised neck as he tightens the chokehold on you. You’re being strangled, and the air feels like its burning as it goes down your tightened passage, but your cunt throbs in excitement when he presses his mouth to your ear, “I don’t give a shit if you don’t need to cum, you’ll do it regardless.” Your mouth dropped open, your eyes crossing, and a loud whine emitted from you when his hand moved to pinch your nipple, and his mouth found a place on your sensitive nipple.

That’s all it takes, and you come hard around his dick, his name ripping through your abused body as he groans. His tongue lashes against your nipple, his teeth tugging at the pebbled skin all while he continues pummeling into you. Chasing after his own orgasm now.

You pant harshly, moving your hips against his own. Your pussy still twitching around his throbbing dick. You hear him expel a wavering sigh, and you can feel him come within you. The heated fluid fills you up, and he lets go of your sore breast; he collapses onto the bed with you landing on his chest.

“You lost,” he whispers after a moment of silence. Your breath picked up in a panic, you were fucked. “On your knees.”

You groan loudly when Shouto sits up, lifting you up with him, and you can feel the intermingled cum dripping out of you, falling onto your thighs. Your eyes flutter when Shouto kneels before you, his face victorious and poised as he undoes the collar against your throat. Although you took a full breath of air with every, inhale, your breathing is finicky as you’re terrified of what’s to come. You’re silent while watching Shouto make his way make to the no longer neat line of sex toys.

He grabs two things: the vibrator, spreader bar, and four of Endeavors’ ties.

Shouto rises to his feet as he walks back towards you, and while you hated doing this on Endeavors — now filthy — bed, your mouth opened.

“Close your mouth, whore,” Shouto chides, his arms above his head tying the colored fabric to the fan blades above the bed.

“What are you—?!”

“You care too much about making a mess for some selfish pig,” Shouto shrugs, he falls into a squat after securing the ties to the fan. There’s a dark and almost amused glint in his eyes when he stares at you. “Now, I’ll give you a reason to worry.”

Before you could protest, pull away, or scramble from the center of the bed, Shouto grabs your right hand and secures the tie around it.

“Shouto!” You panic when he succeeds in capturing both your wrists. Breathing sharply, you looked up at the flimsy blades that curved under the weight of your arms. If you moved to harshly, if you struggled against this punishment or collapsed too early, it would break. Oh, no… snapping your head behind you to where your boyfriend was relocking your ankles into the spreader bar. “Please, baby, I can’t do this!”

Shouto ignores you, and cold sweat runs through you at what’s to come, you wouldn’t be able to resist bringing your elbows down if the vibrator was pressed into your clit. How were you supposed to not wholly destroy Endeavors’ property?!

“S-Sir, think this through!” You begin to word vomit in your desperation while Shouto presses the vibrator against your right thigh, the smooth head holds against your clit, and he uses two more ties to secure it into place. “The bed is already a-a mess, I squirted! Twice! You came two times on the bed! Not to mention my saliva and the cum that’s dripping out of me! I can’t — we can’t break his fan!”

Shouto is unconcerned, his tongue tracing his teeth while mocking concern, “Then I guess you’ll have to work extra hard not to ruin more things in his room. Considering you care about that shit still.”

Your mouth opened to argue again, your body feeling like you needed to fight this because there was no way you were going to be able to last with your arms above your head, legs unable to come together, and a vibrator pulsating into your cunt. But as soon as you made your initial noise, Shouto turned on the vibrator to low.

The low buzz of the vibrator filled the room, and your mouth dropped in a silent scream. Your body was half numb already, having cum multiple times within the past hour was causing your body to convulse on occasion, but now with the vibrations being sent straight to your core, you felt on edge once again.

Trying to control your visible reaction, your hands gripped onto the cloth ties, your arms quivering as you try to keep from pulling down, and your hips thrusting subconsciously to the vibrations.

“S-Sir!” You sob as the slow and steady build in your belly was already growing. Your eyes locked on Shouto, who was a length away, his eyes gleaming in sadistic joy as his hand ran up and down his once again hardening cock. “P-Please, tie me to the bed! Not to Endeavor’s fan.”

The glint disappeared.

“You just won’t let me enjoy my fucking victory, will you?!”

You sucked in a harsh breath when you shifted your hips, the head of the vibrator brushing deliciously against your softly throbbing clit. You thrilled at the feeling of the vibrations on your clit, and your toes curled as your head fell forward. You needed to keep vigilante, you had to continue complaining so that Shouto would cave.

But you had completely forgotten about the ball gag.

“Open up.” Your head shakes no when Shouto holds the ball gag against your lips, there’s a warning noise. A dark growl emitted from his throat, and you feel your heart rate spike when his other hand roughly pinched in your cheeks. Your mouth opens against your will, and you splutter when his fingers shove into your mouth. You try to bite down on his fingers, but Shouto’s fingers turn ice cold making your mouth widen further, so then the gag was placed behind your teeth pressing into your tongue. You feel him lean against you, his lips by your ear as he whispers, “I don’t fucking remember asking.”

His hand lowers, and he amps up the vibration of the vibrator, and your body stiffens under the powerful waves. Being gagged was the worst, first drool always seeped past your lips with this particular gag on, and the uncomfortable pressure on your tongue sent your gag reflex flaring. Staring up at the ceiling, your noises were muffled at the source, staggering pleasure shooting through your veins as the medium vibrations made your long-abused cunt weep.

Your slick coated the head of the vibrator, and soaked you inner thighs, soaking the tie where it held contact with your skin. Your body spasmed as you sobbed in pleasure, your mind reeling and short-circuiting when your head dropped.

Focusing onto Shouto, your legs nearly gave out at the sight of your sweating and smirking boyfriend, his ears tinged with blush, and his fist stroking his huge cock. You wanted to have him slamming into you with the vibrator pressed into your clit, not this.

“Aren’t you having fun,” he pronounces slowly, his eyes — still dark with excitement and lust — dropped to your soaked thighs. “You look fucking delicious right now, princess.”

You clenched your core, the feeling of the vibrator only intensified, and you gagged when you tried to cry out. The feeling of your saliva pooling from your lips mortified you, your body twitching as Shouto only laughs again.

“I think we should go higher,” Shouto groans, his eyes momentarily closing as you assume a particularly gratifying shiver crawls down his spine. The muffled sounds of your disapproval only make his smirk more sinister when he abandons his own length and moves closer to you. Your eyes are wide, body attempting to shift away from him, but there was nowhere to go.

Air passed through your nose are heavy and sharp breaths, your chest hammering, and your puffy nerves throbbing while the vibrator continued powering into you.

“You’re so messy,” he drawls on his knees before you, his fingers touching the saliva coating your chin, and you sob in anticipation of what’s to come. He trails his fingers down your throat, the slickness of your saliva cold against your raw and bruised neck. “Maybe you don’t really care about fucking up scums bed, do you?”

You make a disapproving noise, your will holding on to a thread, and you vigorously shake your head. Shouto hums, his upper lip curling before his hand flattened and smacked your breast right on your nipple.

There was a loud crack when your arms pulled down, and you shrieked, your eyes trying to choose between focusing on Shouto and the fan blade you very much could have just broken. You whimper, your body twisting in an attempt to show submission, but Shouto isn’t done.

With an icy cold hand, he hits your aching and hot breast again and again and again. Your pained and pleasured wails muffled while you choke against the ball, and saliva pours from your mouth, your body trembling with excitement.

“Shut up,” he hisses, bringing his other hand to your face and striking you.

Your head slams to the side, the throbbing of your cunt intensifies with the burning of his handprint. Why did you like being slapped?! Saliva dribbles from your lips when you straighten back up. A now unignorable ache fills your arms from being in this tiresome position for a while now.

Everything felt like it was burning, sensations, and wantonness flooding your senses galore.

“I forget you like this,” Shouto groans as his hands grope your breast. Pulling, kneading, gripping and pinching the soft and moldable flesh in his hands, Shouto grins at your whimpers and the soft groans of the fan above the two of you. “Break the fan, I dare you.”

Your eyes slam shut at those words, and they remained closed as his hot and cold hands trail down your torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your lips twitch, the involuntary action to bite down on your lip prohibited by the gag. He must have seen considering the teasing pinch to your ass.

It was then that you froze. He was flushed against you, and the feeling of his cock pressing into the bottom of your sternum. Shouto’s right hand snaked behind you, those fingers playing with your dripping sex, and his left hand skimmed down your right inner thigh, resting onto the switch that changed the vibrational power.

“Don’t worry, princess,” he speaks in a low tone, an arrogant tone to his voice, “I’ll make you cum again.”

There was no time to contemplate his actions, for the vibrator was turned onto the highest setting and pressed into your clit, and his fingers sunk into your sopping wet cunt.

Even with the ball gag, the shriek of being overstimulated was as loud. It was as if you didn’t have the gag on at all. Your arms lurched forward against your will, the fan creaking loudly as you fell onto Shouto. You trembled more than a leaf in a storm, his fingers pumping deliciously and savagely into you, leaving behind the squelching noise of your wet core. The buzzing of the vibrator clear and steady and his cock twitched between the two of your bodies.

Sobbing and drooling moans escaped the gag, and Shouto relished in his ability to manipulate your body like this. His teeth leaving nipping kisses against the broken skin he left minutes before.

But the feeling of his teeth against your aggravated skin, the sensation of the powerful vibrations against your clit, and how he was still so responsive to you was nothing against his pistoning fingers dragged against that particular spot in your walls. His fingers scraped and slammed against your g-spot, and you felt your vision give way as a powerful force crashed through you.

You had squirted again, only that it seemed to last forever this time. Your lower body throbbing in its wake.

Your head collapsed against his shoulder, and when your vision came back, it was hazy and swam in your eyes. Whether Shouto had noticed or not, he still was slamming his fingers within your cunt with such intensity that — alongside the still buzzing vibrator — pressure built again within you. Heat seeped through you, and tears fell from your eyes when you came again.

Everything felt lethargic when Shouto removed his knuckle deep fingers from your sopping cunt, his tongue lapping away any of your essence remaining on his fingers. With a long pause, he finally turned off the vibrator.

Your breathing was shallow, your head spinning while he removed the bondage from your wrists and ankles. Collapsing onto your face, you felt your slick running thick on your thighs, mixing with the sweat that soaked your skin too.

Good god, were you exhausted.

“You broke the fan,” Shouto murmured.

Shrieking against the gag, adrenaline shot through your veins as you looked up. The fan blade had visible cracks in it, and your jaw dropped further.

Oh, fuck!

“Still haven’t learned,” he sighs, shaking his head. “That’s okay, you’ve always been a stubborn bitch.”

You whimper in agreement, your leg shifting so that you could feel the wet puddle you had made this time around. However, there was no time to relax.

Shouto grabbed you by your armpits and dragged you to the edge of the bed. Choking, you stared at him startled. There was no use in asking what was happening; Shouto bent your knees and wrapped two ties around each leg. One holding your ankle and upper thigh together, and the other one near your knee.

“Good,” Shouto approved, walking back to the side of the bed where the toys lay. Though soreness struck your body, you rose to your elbows and watched Shouto grab the fuck machine before returning to the bedside. “Because you squirted.” He says with a coy smile, lining the dildo to your exposed pussy and thrusting it in.

Your body slammed back down against the bed at the slickness of the dildo. You were so used to Shouto’s cock that the dildo was foreign as it buried within you.

“Now,” he sighs as he turns on the machine. Immediately the fuck machine blows into your tight and slippery cunt, your eyes rolling backward at the mere sensation of the speed it was at, and a loud mewl leaves your throat. His fingers snuck behind your head, unfastening the gag, and is removed with a saliva string, and a sob croaked through your voice as your mouth was finally free. “Suck my dick.”

With your head past the edge of the mattress, and the height lining you near perfectly to Shouto’s cock, he slides his cock into your sore throat. But ever so eager, Shouto wastes no time starting his conquest.

You try to keep up with the momentum of the toy and his viciously thrusting hips, your hips snapping against the toy despite its insane speed. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you choke against his cock. Shouto chuckles, his hands kneading your breasts, his moans tight and low, it had been a while since the last time he came.

“Look at you, so desperate,” Shouto chuckles, his fingers tweaking your hard nipples. “So fucking needy.”

The words ignite a fire within you, and your legs tremble in unspoken glee. You wanted him to fuck you until you were nothing less than a mess. You needed him to give you his cock instead of this stupid fucking machine — wait…

Your eyes widened when you realized the extent to your thoughts.

Fuck Endeavor, you thought, a shiver rolling down your spine. Your boyfriend was giving you the best dick down of your life, and you were too preoccupied with foolish worry! Shouto promised he was going to be cleaned up. You wanted Shouto, you needed him. Maybe you were whipped.

Your arms shot out, gripping the back of Shouto’s thighs as you willed him closer. Your jaw widening; you let hot breaths of air expelled from your mouth. You could feel Shouto peering down on you, but rolling your hips against the machine that was making your stomach bulge with every slam of its rod, your tongue lashed against his swollen head. Shouto’s thighs clench when your mouth sucks against the head of his cock, your tongue pressing flat against the tip.

“Did someone finally fucking wake up?” Shouto grunts, his hips moving with more unrestraint into your mouth.

Making a pleasant sound, you hollowed your cheeks out and tasted the saltiness of his pre-cum. Delighting at the harsh curse, you guided him further in.

One of his hands is soon braced on the fuck machine between your legs, but the other is tangled in your hair, pulling it and twisting it as he wishes. He’s pulling hard enough to hurt, enough so that you can choke against him, the angle and the position on your back already increasing the likeliness of that happening.

Shouto’s grip on your hair tightens, and he realizes that you’re keeping up impeccably. His dance between aggression and concupiscence is too much for you to keep up with. You don’t have time to tease his length with your tongue; he steers his cock further down your throat. You don’t bother to hide how satisfied you are by his action as you relax your throat and hollow your cheeks against the length of his snapping cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his hips bucking forward, he can’t stop himself from demanding more. You don’t mind; you open wider to take more of him in, and his cock thrusts further down your throat. He’s now panting, in his desperation, judging from the strangled sound he makes as you take him even deeper. “You take my cock so good, princess.”

He was doing this for you, despite everything that could happen to him after this night was done. Shouto loved you enough to tarnish his dad’s room with you. The thought makes you moan, and you wiggling trying to take him deep enough now that he must be able to feel the vibrations from your throat because that makes him hiss out another curse. He’s shaking with the effort of slamming his cock down your throat and holding the machine.

The raw, primal, and wet noises of his cock entering and leaving your throat are maniacal, added onto that is the dildo penetrating your sopping cunt again. The pressure is back, and it’s settled deep in your lower belly, and you want to cum more.

He’s underestimating you, however; you could take him in all power and length he could muster. You know that as you begin bobbing your head despite the backwardness of your position. Digging your fingernails into his ass, you silently letting him know that you’re okay, and he understands.

Shouto grunts, bending his knees as he begins to face fuck you with no remorse. It’s savage, uncontrolled, and brutal. Your choking noises music to both your ears; he doesn’t let up, only snapping his hips faster, harder, rougher. Your eyes begin to roll backward at the force, his balls slapping you in the face with every slam of energy.

But you like — you lust — the sensation of the raw and primitive fucking he was giving you, and you felt your hips rising off the bed when your walls begin to clamp against the insanely moving dildo. Yet, when you shifted higher, his hands slammed down against your hips, keeping you down, and you cry around his cock.

“Take my fucking cock like the slut you are,” he snarls, taking giant thrusts until his cock is completely buried in your throat, your nose pressed into his balls. Your tongue still revolves around the veins in his cock while you grip his ass. You choke against him, the noise music to his ears, while your legs spasm as your orgasm is hitting you.

“Y/n,” he manages to get out through gritted teeth. “Fuck, y/n. You—” He cuts himself off with another groan as the tip of his cock hits so far down your throat you feel your neck bulge.

There’s a brief moment of panic as you struggle to breathe. The force a but more than you expected, but you relax, getting yourself to calm back down. But then you inhale through your nose and force your throat to rest until you can take him all in, the oxygen burning as it made its way past his cock in your throat. Not long after that, Shouto lets out a long, loud groan when his seed shoots down your throat.

It burns, and to your horror, you find yourself unable to take the sheer force of his load and the fact that he just seemed to keep unloading within you. Uncontrollable panicked coughing and choking rattle your throat while Shouto is still balls deep in you. The second he removes his cock from your throat, you shoot up, your core throbbing, and your airway burning as cum drips out from your nose.

You continue hacking, the bitter taste of cum scorching your throat, and you continued to rub cum from your nose. It burned and hurt to breathe. Turning your head towards Shouto, who turned off the fucking machine, his eyes were locked on you already, a grin on his face while he ran a hand through his hair.

“That was hot,” Shouto rustles, running the flat of his thumb against your upper lip, smearing his cum against your skin.

“That fucking hurt!” You snap, throwing his hand off your face, a fire exploding under your skin because you were more embarrassed than anything. You enjoyed the feeling of his cum coming out of your nose, but you weren’t about to admit it!

“I don’t care,” Shouto perversely informs you, his hands taking you cheeks and twisting you towards him before his lips press against yours.

His lips are libidinous against yours, his mouth opening as he coaxed you to join him in this affair. His kiss was bruising, his teeth knocking against yours when hot and breathless puffs of air exchanged between your mouths. The heated pressure does nothing to ease the burning in your throat, only intensifying the pain while you dig your fingers into his back, leaving crescent marks and bloodied tears behind. The pain does not deter Shouto, not even a little bit. There’s an approval growl emitting from his throat and his tongue soon pressed against yours, and you resisted the sharp moan threatening to leave while his muscle danced with yours.

“Stop holding it in,” he grunts, “make everyone know that you’re being fucked.”

The next noise to escape your mouth is a loud mewl when Shouto sucks against your own tongue, his eyes ablaze while he stares down at you, victory and lust in his eyes.

“Where should I fuck you next?” He asks, his body pressing you down into the mattress, ignoring your pained hisses for your legs were still bound. His fingers dig into your breasts, pinching at the edges of your areola instead of your nipple. Your fingers dug deeper into his skin when you sob at the teasing. “How does that filthy little cunt of yours want to be ruined next?”

“In his chair!” you cry in gluttony, your body thrashing and reaming against his touch. “Fuck me in his chair, sir!”

“Look at that, maybe the slut can learn,” Shouto grins into your skin, the tracing movements salacious, and he stands. You’re weightless when Shouto scoops you from the bed, his hands supporting your tender ass. Mindlessly, your mouth nibbles against his throat, leaving purple hickies in your wake while he collects more items.

The taste of his salty sweat invades your senses, your tongue lapping, and circling against his skin while Shouto gave no attention towards your actions. He merely dumped you onto the cool leather of Endeavors desk chair, and you arched in pain.

“Now, now,” he ruthlessly grabbed the ties on your legs. He slides them off with such amoral strength your skin throbs in his wake. Your legs, finally free, slam to the ground, and you let out a fervid noise as you stare up at your boyfriend, whose stomach is taut and sheened with sweat. “I thought you liked pain.”

“You haven’t been giving me any,” you sneer, your tongue dragging against your bottom lip.

Rage fills his eyes, and he chuckles depravedly, “Okay, brat.”

Grabbing your hips, he drags you on the chair so that your ass barely remains on the cold leather. Shoving you down by your chest, the wind is knocked out of you, and you heave when he grabs onto your ankles. With a familiar tightness and the strain of having your knees under your shoulders, the spreader bar is placed behind the chairs back, keeping you trapped to the chair.

You’re folded in half, and his hand pressed onto your stomach before he began to tie your arms and thigh down. Two ties to secure your wrist into place, two ties to secure your thighs into place. The position — being placed into an ‘L’ shape — prohibited you from breathing correctly as your inflexibility flashed through your muscles.

“Oh my god,” you breathe while Shouto presses the back of the chair into the desk for additional support. Your wrists throbbed with the loss of blood circulation, and Shouto stood before you, his hand fisting himself.

“Hard to breathe?” He mocks, his cock now fully erect again.

“Make me stop breathing, pussy,” you challenge unwavering.

“God, I was hoping you’d say that,” he smirked, grabbing the top of the chair, and placing his feet by the side of the bed, he rammed himself into your cunt.

There was nothing for you to do except pathetically howl when he slammed into your cervix, your body tied so tight to the chair any other action was stopped.

“You’re so fucking tight like this,” Shouto hisses, but you could hardly tell the difference with the way he pummels his cock deep within you. Perfectly hitting the back of your wall every time.

His girth was stretching you out far more than you could seem to remember, his thrusts were urgent as they were voracious, slamming deep into you with every second, scrambling your mind with every shift. But, he didn’t gag you, and you weren’t one to give in.

“It’s because you n-never fuck me r-rIGHT!”

His left fingers slammed into your mouth, his fingers touching the back of your throat as you choked against him in your surprise. Tears watered in your eyes, and his fingers dug into your spongy muscle, making you gag even more laborious.

It already hurt to breathe, with the sensation of his cum still falling from your nose, the angle of which you were tied up, and his finger in your throat, you began to panic. Your eyes close, your throat relaxing immediately to let things be okay. But as soon as you regain your breath, you feel your core throb in how much you liked that. Tears flow down your cheeks, your eyes locked on Shouto, who’s scorching you with his sight.

“I thought you were going to tap out,” he taunts, and your tongue pushes up against his fingers, your throat humming lowly to control the insistent gag at the back of your throat. “You’re crying, and yet you’re still so defiant.”

You tilt your head up, alleviating the pressure of his fingers in your throat, and still looking like a brat.

But his cock brushes against your g-spot and your eyes nearly bug out in ecstasy for his right-hand wraps around your neck. His cock still slams into you with speed and power, the oxygen in your body being denied with his tight grip around your neck, his fingers beginning to thrust within your mouth emulating a cock, and the chair starts to squeak with every movement.

Your ass pathetically rises off the chair, a desperate attempt to move in time with his drilling cock. Both of you delirious under your overstimulation and refusal to stop until there was evidence for years that the two of you fucked in Endeavors’ room. His grip around your neck soon became bruising, where his fingertips were burned you, but you cared not. His cock was stretching you out in shameless thrill, the angle only increasing the pleasure buzzing through you. Your eyes cross over in your elation, and you splutter when his fingers leave your throat, moving to press cold and wet figure-eights onto your clit.

“Fucking take my cock,” he growls.

Your head nods, the heated pressure in your belly scorching. Your walls clamp down against his hammering cock, but it doesn’t slow him down, only encouraging him to increase his speed and strength until the chair creaked against your weight. The sopping noises of your meeting sex filled your ears, and you moaned loudly, your teeth biting down onto your lip.

It takes his cock brushing against your g-spot for your legs to slam forward, your arms nearly succeeding in destroying endeavors ties as you try sitting up as your orgasm slams through you.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” You scream hoarsely. Your scream only increases in great thrill when you feel the chair snap under the force of his fuck. But Shouto ignores it, his hips continuing to drill into you, his hand clamping tighter against your neck, cutting off your voice. Shouto isn’t done yet, after all.

His hands move to grip the exposed back of your thighs, his grip bruising your supple skin. He slams into you faster, his cock continuing unaffected by your convulsing walls. There are no other noises except your wet cunt meeting his cock, your shrieks of approval, and Shouto’s heavy breathing as he continues to drive into you. His body is giving you unreplicable sensations, and your body only making Shouto stammer and curse loudly.

His lips find yours, and there is nothing to say, the kiss is messy, more teeth than anything. Saliva passed between the two of you without care, as he chases his orgasm. His brutal pace continues, your name growled from your throat, until one last thrust and one final clamp from your cunt sends him over.

He pulls out as soon as he cums, his seed slipping down from your slit, tickling your tight ass and dripping onto the chair and the floor.

Your eyes are barely opened; you try to peer at Shouto, who is pressing his right hand to his forehead.

“You cheat,” you rasp, knowing that he had successfully cooled his body down.

He smiles at you wickedly, choosing to ignore you before walking back.

“Look at that,” Shouto whispers, bending down so that his face is level with your cunt and ass. “Can’t have anything not falling onto Endeavors things getting out of you…”

His finger pushes his cum back into your sore cunt, and you sharply breath when he pats your cunt.

“You want me to have your babies,” you tease, and he remains silent, dragging his fingers down the center of your pussy. His breathing teases your sensitive flesh, and you feel yourself clench when he pulls his fingers lower than where he usually goes. Soon, his fingers trace around your puckered asshole.

“S-Sir,” you pant, your chest rising as far up as you could in this position, and your eyes widened when he looked up at you.

“Have you ever wanted to try anal?”

Your mouth drops when the pad of his finger teases your other entrance, and your thighs shook while you remained silent.

His opposite hand struck your ass sharply, your body thrashing as it stung against your unprepared skin.

“Answer me.”

“Y-Yes!”

“Yes, what?!”

“I want your cock in my ass!”

Your boyfriend’s quirk did not involve speed; in fact, without his quirk, he was not that fast. Sure he was athletic and adequately trained, but in comparison to those on the Hero field, if you took away quirk usage, he was barely above average. But there were times that you believed he was incredibly fast, and this was one of those moments.

You found your face, chest, and knees buried back into the mattress, your back arched so much you swore you would need a spine replacement after this, and the ties and spreader bar were gone.

His fingers slide between your folds, lathering in your essence. A low groan left your lips at the feeling, and you quivered when Shouto’s hands spread your ass cheeks.

“B-Be gentle,” you whimper when he presses the pad of his forefinger against your pert hole. Your ass tightened instinctively, and Shouto huffed but pressed his finger in. A weird full pain shot through you when the tip of his finger entered your rectum, your ass squeezing against his finger, trying to deny him entrance.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his other hand massaging your ass cheek, trying to calm your instincts to let him in.

Your fingers dig into the comforter, the still wet fabric from your multiple orgasms was cold under your heated fingers. But something cold splashed against your ass, and you shook, demanding to know what it was.

“Lube,” he answers, a smirk evident in his tone as his fingers leave your asshole. A soft groan exhales from your breath at him exiting your ass, and soon enough, his finger returns to your puckered tight hole. The feeling of his fingers pushing in you to his first knuckles sends your ass flying backward toward him, a desperate and idiotic way of getting him further in.

It was a weird feeling, almost reminiscent to the first time you had sex, only completely different. It made your head spin in a frenzied way and felt backward but in a way where you needed more.

“You like this,” he laughs, his lips pressing against your spine. Your head nods, you’re unable to speak as his fingers push into you and pull back out. It’s a slow and chilling movement that fills your asshole and makes you dizzy.

“Shit,” you breathe, your body rattling, your ass rolling against his fingers.

“Are you ready for my cock, whore?” He asks, and you whine in response. His hand grips your ass, and his finger curls within you. You loudly call out his name, feeling your body turning weak as you lay there, a slave to his manipulation. His manipulation of your ass sends warm liquid falling down your thighs, shining against your skin as his hand smacks your inner thigh, and he relishes in your high pitched squeal. “You finally cave to anal when I’m fucking you here. Is this what you wanted all along?”

Your eyes clamp shut as his fingers exit your ass, and you only manage a panting groan in response. There’s a soft ripping noise before a package hits your face.

Your eyes open to see a condom package sitting by your face, its empty, and you shift your head to stare at Shouto who’s unraveling the condom on his cock.

“You haven’t used those in a while,” you remark snidely, your eyes glowing with amusement as he locks onto you, his eyes rolling.

“I remember a certain someone begging for me to put it in her raw,” he smoothly states, lube in his hands now, and he applies a lot on the smooth condom. “Besides, you want my cock up your ass, you don’t get to play that card right now.”

“Yeah, well — oHMY GOD!”

Shouto, without warning, presses the head of his cock within your asshole. It stretches you out disgustingly, sharp pain throbbing in your ass and cunt as he settles within you. Despite his cock halfway buried within your ass, it’s your pussy that weeps. Your slick runs rampant down your inner thigh, falling onto the bed top. Shouto’s fingers dig into your waist, the both of you breathing heavy at this new feeling.

Slowly, his fingers move to your breast and your nipples, and with the smallest nod from you, he begins.

In and out, he moves, his hips moving faster than a manageable speed, and your eyes welled with tears at the constipated feeling in your asshole. His fingers tweak and pull at your clit and nipple, savagely teasing them, uncaring that your cries left drooling puddles on the bed. His thrusting movements became quicker, harder, and more solid until a familiar sensation of his balls slapping your skin burned your mind.

“More,” you beg against the sheets, drool coating your cheek, your body nothing more than his fuck toy. “Fuck my asshole harder.”

Shouto merely growls, the pinch on your clit, making your hips buck against his cock, and he began to barbarically slam into you. It was as if it was your pussy and not your ass he was drilling into.

Your body shifts with his every movement, your slick pouring from your cunt, and he let go of your nipple. In your crazed state, you sob at the loss of contact, but his hand strikes against your soaked cunt with a loud sound. The force alone nearly sends your eyes flying open, your vision blurring when his finger dive into your sex.

His fingers work at double the speed of which his hips slam into you. His fingers pushing the limits of your velvet walls; he curls his fingers against your walls, dragging them deliciously against your clenching heat. Then there was his cock, and at times the thin walls that separated his fingers and his cock brushed together, sending you into a new frenzy while you sobbed his name.

Begging for more, begging to come.

“You already need to come?!” He snaps, his hips not at all weak, and you moaned loudly, knowing that he was nowhere close. “Then come you, filthy bitch, I just started, and you need to come!”

“I-It feels so fucking good,” you garble, your jaw unable to move for its slack against the mattress, electrifying pleasure singing your nerves, and with a loud smack to your pussy, you come hard against his fingers, splashing against the bed top.

There’s no time wasted; Shouto pulls himself from your ass and shoves you onto your back again. There’s no fightback, no attitude, from you. Without being forced to, your legs are brought to your chest while Shouto discards the condom onto the bed.

“Aren’t you so fucking enthusiastic, getting all ready for me without asking,” Shouto grins, his hands grabbing your legs right below your ankle. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you right now?”

“Y-You’re going to fill me up with your cum,” you stammer for he pushes your legs slowly towards you, the stretch in your muscles overwhelming for your sore body. “You’re going to give me your babies.”

“What else?” He taunts, the top of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“B-Breed me like the bitch I am, sir!” Your cry, wanting nothing more than his cock to bury all nine inches in you.

“Come for me one more time, and I’ll make sure to fill you until you’re dripping with my semen for an entire week,” Shouto promises, and his hips slam within you.

Your knees are buried within the mattress by your head, your feet curling and pressing against each other. Shouto lays on top of you, the penetration deep, and his hands gripping yours. The weight of having him on you is exhilarating, and for the first time this night, his lips press hungrily against yours while ball deep within you.

His cock slams against the wall of your cervix repetitively while his lips overwhelm you. Each slam into you is massive and powerful. Powerful enough to have you sobbing into his mouth while he kisses you, his hands clutching your smaller ones in his.

Again and again, he slams into you. His thrusts knocking the wind out of you until you release his hands and find yourself digging your fingers into his back, crying out his name desperately while his teeth find a home on your neck, sinking into flesh he had long ago broke. The powerful pounding of his cock makes you keen, your hips jerking up to meet his, but you’re useless against his downward thrusts.

“Impregnate me, sir,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, “breed me, please!”

“You’ll be full of my fucking kids in no time, your cute belly will be round with my kid,” he snaps, his cock throbbing within your pussy, and loud echoing slaps fill the room. Your nails claw at his back, marking him in multiple places with clean four red lines.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved perfectly within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises reasonably similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, whore?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh. “You like the way my cock fills your pussy the same way it did that pretty little ass?” You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. Your sanity was lying on a string, his actions the reasons for your downfall.

His leverage was small, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. Before he drilled back into your pussy. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot cock.

The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“You like the way I fuck your pussy? The way that I’ll fill you with my seed for days to come?” he growls into your ear, his hips inhumanly slamming into you.

“I need you to breed me,” you sob, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have felt the familiar spastic clamping of your inner walls as he continues pistoling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You cry against his mouth, your hands shoving at his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he slips out of you.

You squirt wildly, your juices going everywhere, wetting his groin area, and splashing against the bed.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he growls, and once again slams into you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

The bed creaks loudly under you, headboard crashing into the wall, over and over again.

“Cum, sir,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Please, fill me with your seed!”

That’s all it takes, and a hot and heavy load shoots through you, and Shouto collapses onto you at the same time the bed falls. Neither one of you reacts as gravity shifts you both slightly downwards, but your mind is too full of Shouto to care. His body twitching while his cock remains hard within you, the feeling of his cum swimming in your cunt, making your head spin with euphoria.

Drowsiness hits you quickly, and Shouto’s body heat is quickly putting you to sleep.

He pulls out of you gently, and the feeling of his cock no longer in you makes you whimper, your nose burying into his neck as he flips the two of you over so that you’re laying on his chest. His hands send warm and cooling waves through your body, helping soothe the aches in your tired body.

Who knew Endeavor was the key to making Shouto lose control. Maybe you needed to get him to fuck you on this bed more often now.

You can feel the cum seeping from your cunt, and Shouto must have too, for he scooped it back in with his fingers, and you chuckled at the feeling of his warm fingers against your seizing cunt. This was nice, you loved this.

“I didn’t go too overboard, did I?” He asks, his voice small given that he saw the blood that trailed down your neck and the raised handprints on your ass.

“No,” you say, your hands running down his muscled sides. “Not at all, I really enjoyed this, sir.”

Your words are teasing, and the two of you chuckle as silence overtakes the two of you.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispers, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“I love you, too, Shouto,” you mumble, your eyes fluttering closed, sleep consuming you.

You don’t remember anything else, only that you woke up the next morning in your bed, your body is strewn with purple bruises, red hickies, and handprints on your body, wearing nothing but Shouto’s shirt and your panties.

“Good morning beautiful,” his voice greets you, and you sigh, soreness rampaging your body.

“Good morning, my love.”

Bonus!

Endeavor walked into his house at three in the morning, the strains of a late night at work had truly exhausted him.

Shouto, who he had asked to take care of his house for only two hours had stayed much later. His son had informed him that he left ten minutes before he arrived. It was too bad, Endeavor thought, he wasn’t able to get back on time to see his son and girlfriend. Tossing his case to the floor, Endeavor was ready for bed.

Trudging through his house, he was quick to realize how humid the house was when he neared his room. His eyebrows scrunched, his attention on alert as he threw open the door, the lights and fan turned on by mistake.

CRASH!

Endeavors’ eyes widened at the sight of the cum-stained bed, the ruined sheets, the slanted chair, and his bed being held together by ice. His eyes locked on the fan blade that fell from its place; it was cracked entirely in the middle. There was no denying that his room was wholly and disgustingly used, and for what?! His stupid kid didn’t ever need to stay!

“SHOUTOOOOOO!”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #mha x reader #todoroki smut

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headlesschaos · 4 years ago

Text

Nightmares

A bit of spoilers, as long as your caught up with the anime and have watched season 3 you should be fine.

A BIT OF CONTENT TO THE STORY: Bakugou and Reader aren't really dating yet but are interested in each other. The reader is Izuku's sister so she has known Bakugou since childhood.

First time writing a oneshot. Please enjoy. No stealing my work, please.

_____________________________________________________________

In the middle of the night, my peaceful slumber was interrupted by someone kicking my legs. I whimpered a bit not wanting to get up, but the movement in the bed didn’t stop. Suddenly the person next to me shot up, they started panting trying to catch their breath. My eyes shoot open trying to figure out who was next to me.

I turn my head a bit, spotting a bit of blonde-looking hair in the dark and a well-built body. ‘Katsuki… oh that's right we fell asleep while studying.’ I thought, closing my eyes again, resting back down.

Once Katsuki caught his breath I felt his hand brush my forehead shakingly when a small crackle was heard. ‘His Quirk?’ He shot up from bed and started looking for something in my room.

“Shit, shit, shit, where the fuck is that fuck ass wipe?” He said in a low voice. I sit up spotting the ash-blonde run around my room, looking for the towel he came in with. He grabbed the towel from the table and wiped his hands. He was still cursing under his breath.

“Katsuki?” I say calling out to him.

I stared at his back as he stopped wiping his hands, he looked at his hands then over his shoulder to me. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.” He says in a soothing voice. Though it nearly put me to sleep again, something about his voice stopped me.

Opening my eyes that I didn’t realize were close. “Bakugou, tell me what's wrong?” I told him in a tired voice. I swear I saw his body tense up as he looked towards my bedroom door. “Nothings fucking wrong just go back to sleep. I’m going to go back to my room so you’ll have your bed to yourself again. This was a fucking bad idea, so jus-”

“How long?” I asked, I knew he was playing an escape root. Something happened, whatever it was he wanted to hide, and I had a feeling I knew what it was. “What!?!” he asked, turning his head to me.

His red eyes glared sharply at mine, I almost want to hide under the covers instead. “You're having nightmares aren’t you?” I asked him. His body tensed and his face just turned angrier than before.

“I’m not having a fucking nightmare! Who the fuck do you think you're dealing with? A child? I’m not a fucking baby (Y/n) I don’t get fucking-.” He scolded me, but I cut him off. “Everyone has nightmares Katsuki! We all have fears! We’re human, we have flaws, it's a thing that happens all the time!” I say to him, lowering my voice at the end cause it was the middle of the night.

I couldn’t see him clearly but I could tell he was shaking. “I-I don’t- It’s not a nightmare okay. I may be human but I’m not a fucking pathetic weakling.”

I look at him, a sigh falls from my lips. “I…” I started but then paused before continuing. “I have nightmares at times,” I say, admitting my fault. “About the sludge villain, about failing, and about the incidents with the villains. When you were taken away, I had nightmares, I panicked. Am I weak and pathetic because of that?” I asked looking down at the bedsheets, my arms were crossed for comfort.

There was silence before Katsuki answered. “No, you're not,” he says, placing the towel in his hands down onto the chair. I felt his eyes burn into my body, it was silent again. “Then why does it make you?”

I heard him groan as he clenched his fist. “This isn’t about me,” he says sharply. I looked at the sheets not wanting to meet his eyes. “But it is, how am I supposed to be here and support you if you won’t tell me what's going on with you. Katsuki I can't be by your side like you want and just not know a thing. I need you to tell me.” I say my eyes started to water. I tried my best to hold it back.

His body started to shake. “I’m fucking fine, I don’t need you to get in my goddamn business!” In anger rose my voice letting it all out. “Then what am I here for? Just to have around? To sit there, look pretty, smile, and act like it's okay? Because if that's what I’m supposed to do then I want no part of this.” Tears ran down my face and my voice cracked at the end a lot. I tried to stop myself from crying, but it was proving to be difficult. Why wouldn't he just talk to me?

I heard the floor creak as I tried to wipe my tears. I was pulled into a hug by strong arms, one around my waist and the other on my head. I continued to cry as Katsuki held me. “What do you want from me? What am I supposed to be to you?” I asked him in tears.

He lifted my head up cupping it with both hands, his thumbs wiping and tears. He leaned forwards and kissed my forehead. Before putting his forehead on top of mine. His red ruby eyes gazed into mine as I held tightly to his t-shirt.

“Be my everything.”

It was all he had to say to make me crumble at his touch, he pulled me closer onto his lap. One arm around my waist as the other was on my face. I held that hand there, kissing onto it then rubbing my face onto it, falling in love with the warmth it created. His thumb rubbed circles again on my cheek.

“Be my fucking everything, the damsel I have to fucking rescue, my hero to fucking recuse me.” I laughed when he said that, but he just continues. “Correct me when I’m wrong, cheer me on when I’m fucking right. Help me when I’m about to give up, be there for me when I don’t. Put up with me when I’m a jerk, and let me put up with you when you're stubborn. Make me laugh, share moments like this with me. Tell me it's okay to be scared when I am… like I am right now.”

My eyes widened as he admitted his secret to me. I let go of his hand and cupped his face to see his eyes better. The ruby eyes showed me no lies, it showed me that yes indeed he was scared, but this time willing to share. A sigh fell from his lips as he closed his eyes for a brief moment to push his pride away before meeting my eyes again.

“Yes, I had a nightmare about the sludge villain. I couldn’t breathe and he was holding me back from getting to you. The fire fuck dude had you, he was burning you until you were in pain and that blonde bitch was stabbing you. And the other fucking hand guy just kept saying ‘should have joined us when you fucking had the chance. How can you be a hero if you can’t save yourself or her?’” He started to shake again, terrified of reliving his dream.

“Katsu.” I say grabbing his hand that had fallen to my shoulders before placing it over my heart. “I’m right here, Katsu. I won’t leave if I don’t have to. I know you’ll protect me.” But he pulled his hand away from me, tears gathered in his eyes. “But what if I can’t? What then?” he asked me, looking at me through his tears.

“Your human Katsu, you can’t always save everyone. You won’t always save everyone, but you will always be number one in my heart. It doesn’t matter anyway, what matters is right now. You and me being together right now, is all that matters.” I say with a smile. I knew I couldn’t tell him a lie. He was too smart and he knew the truth. I just had to remind him of the present moment.

Tears fell from his eyes as he just nodded then bared his head into my neck. I felt tears land on my neck as I rub his back and my fingers get lost in his soft fluffy hair. I felt us start to lean back then we fell onto the bed. “Ah Baku, my bed,” I say worried about him accidentally breaking it.

“Shut up and go the fuck to sleep.” I smile as I play with his hair, he wasn’t leaving me tonight, and all was better now. I slowly fell to sleep when I felt Katsu lift his head and kiss my cheek.

“(Y/n)?” he called out to me. “Yes?” I asked him. “What am I to you?” he asked me. Being tired and in the middle of sleep, I answer back.

“My jerky, cussing, childhood friend, that I had a crush on, that I also hated for nearly all my life. Now I’m waiting for you to ask me to be your girlfriend. To sum up everything, my crappy everything. Now go to sleep.” I say, it came out drowsy and tried but he got his answer. He smiled ear to ear, feeling high and mighty. He didn’t even care about the other half of the answer. He was your crappy everything.

“So that means you love me right?”

“Yes,” you answer without a second thought.

“I’m the fucking best?”

“Yes.” He smiles and basically screams/celebrates in his head.

“Am I better than Deku?” He asked with a smirk on his face.

“.....”

He glared at your silent form, he noticed that you were asleep. He blushes as he realizes that 1. You're cute when you're asleep, 2. You were in his arms and 3. You still didn’t answer the question. He nudged his nose on your face not wanting to unwrap his arms. You groan a bit but open your eyes slightly.

“Am I better than Deku?” He asked again, wanting an answer from you.

“Yes.” He cheered in his head. “But only by a bit…. and I’m better than both of you.”..... Wait, what? But before he could correct you, you were back to sleep. This time he didn’t bother you and closed his eyes pulling you in closer.

________________________________________

Izuku then walked up to your door early in the morning to ask you if you wanted to run some laps before starting today. Only find your door wide open with Kirishima and Ochaco standing there with their phones.

“Um… what are you two doing in my sister's room?” they both turn around. Ochaco blushed but before she could answer Kirishima got to it first. “See for yourself.” Izuku stepped into the room more, he stopped once he saw Katsuki and you. He paused for a moment to take what was in front of him.

At first, Kirishima thought that maybe his bro didn’t have Izuku’s approval, Ochaco was praying that Izuku would let you date Katsuki because she really shipped you and him. But then Izuku pulled out his phone and took some pictures before walking towards the door pushing the other two out.

“Um... Izuku, Katsuki didn’t do anything wrong I swear. Both of their clothes are still on and Bakugou wouldn’t touch her in her sleep. That isn’t manly.” Kirishima said worried as they were being pushed out so Izuku could yell at them. Ochaco looked at Izuku clearly confused as well. “Deku-kun?”

Izuku finishes pushing them out then closes the door keeping all three of them out. He just smiles at them. “Let’s give them time. I'll come back and check on them after my morning jog. They both should be up by then.” He says walking towards the elevator. Ochaco looked at him. “But Deku-kun, what about the pictures you took?” she asked.

“Oh those, I’m sending them to mom and saving them to put them in the (ship name) memory book.” He smiles as he gets into the elevator, he looks at them. “Would you like to see the pictures I collected so far?” Kirishima nodded and followed Izuku while Ochaco was amazed. Izuku was completely okay with this.

“Wait? How long have you been shipping them?” There was silence between them before Izuku pressed the close door button. “Not that long. Maybe since kindergarten?” he answers as the doors close.

“What? Izuku!?!”

#bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #first writing #bhna bakugou #boko no hero academia #mha #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha katsuki #katsuki x y/n #x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki #bakugou

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professorspork · 4 years ago

Note

superhell fic prompt: RB+J reunite with Yang

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

Let no one ever doubt that Yang can be a champion whiner when she wants to be.

She was on her best behavior before, listening intently as Weiss caught her up on just how badly the fight with Cinder went, and brainstorming up next steps (get to the Tree; send up a flare with Ember Celica because if there were Grimm they needed to worry about, they would have run into some by now; wait). Only there wasn’t much to talk about after that that wasn’t wildly depressing, and they’d fallen into an uneasy silence-- Yang watching Weiss hunch tighter and tighter in on herself with every step.

So she’d filled the quiet: complaining about how they’d be there by now if only she still had Bumblebee; bitching about how unfair it is that they can’t seem to get their Semblances to work; grumbling over how she has no idea how long they’ve been walking because the light never seems to change here. And Weiss snaps back, of course, but Yang can tell the annoyance is feigned-- the more irritated Weiss’s answers are, the more relaxed her body language becomes. Normalcy’s thin on the ground, here; Yang will provide it anywhere she can.

Except--

-- except also something on the ground here, it seems--

-- is Gambol Shroud.

“Oh,” Yang breathes, in a tone of voice she’s not entirely sure she’s ever produced before. Weiss runs ahead and drops to her knees, but hesitates when she goes to scoop up the weapon-- her hand hovering over it, shaking.

“I-- sorry. It’s not my-- you should--”

“You should give it back to her,” Yang says, keeping her distance and a soft smile on her face.

Weiss looks up at her with wide eyes. “But you--”

“--didn’t have to see her fall. You did. And you-- you did really good, Weiss. You should give it back to her.” It seems a small concession to make, in the grand scheme of things. She’s going to have plenty of Blake, and soon. She knows it-- she’s sure of that down to her bones, now. So what is there to be possessive of? She waits until Weiss nods, and slips the katana through one of her scabbard loops. It’s not exactly meant to be carried that way, but whatever. It looks pretty badass. “C’mon,” she says, helping Weiss to her feet. “We’re close. I can feel it.”

Weiss roasts her mercilessly when it’s a good age and a half of walking before they even hit the tree’s roots (“Oh, are we close, Yang? Can you feel it?”), but they don’t come across any other surprises. When the roots start to twist and rise above them, Yang clambers up to a decent plateau and sets off two charges-- shooting them high into the air and watching them explode like fireworks. Yang smirks, tucking her arms behind her head as she prepares to settle in and wait--

-- and promptly slips and falls out of the tree when a trio of familiar voices happily cry “Yang?!” only seconds after the flare’s report.

(It’s not her fault, okay? She wasn’t expecting them to be this close, or together; wasn’t expecting Jaune to be down here at all; it’s whatever--)

By the time she’s picked herself up and dusted herself off, Ruby, Jaune and Blake have come into view, just across the clearing.

“Ruby!” Weiss cries, sprinting towards them, and that’s-- she’s Yang’s sister, she should get dibs on first hug, what gives, only then Weiss actually throws a thumbs up behind her as she runs and that’s just-- that’s just rude, honestly, as if--

“Yang,” Blake says, close enough to touch, and when did that happen?

“Blake, I--”

She has no idea how that sentence was supposed to end. Luckily, Blake relieves her of the burden, busying her mouth and bringing her thoughts to a grinding halt by pulling her into a swift, determined kiss. Yang’s struck so dumb by the shock of it that for a moment she forgets to kiss back-- hands hanging limply at her sides as she tries to process the intent pressure of Blake’s lips against hers; the swell of body heat where they’re pressed together, chest to chest; the tender way Blake cradles her jaw, all fingertips, the way you touch something precious and fragile. Every muscle in Yang’s body relaxes in an instant-- at last, finally, thank you-- and a needy, wanting noise tears itself from her throat, entirely without her volition.

It’s possible she goes a bit overboard when she finally gets control of her limbs again, wrapping her arms around Blake’s sides and dipping her into the kind of kiss she’s only seen on the covers of Blake’s novels, but it’s hard to care about how it looks-- not when Blake’s laughing into her mouth, and Ruby’s wolf-whistling (Yang releases her hold on Blake for that, briefly, only because she has to prioritize flipping Ruby the bird) and has she mentioned that she’s kissing Blake Belladonna?

She’s kissing Blake Belladonna.

She might never stop kissing Blake Belladonna.

Or, okay, maybe she will; her back kind of hurts holding this weird position so long. But when she pulls Blake back to standing, she suddenly registers wetness on her own cheeks, and she wouldn’t be surprised she’s crying only she’s-- she’s really pretty sure she’s not, so that means--

“Don’t cry,” she whispers, reaching up to brush the tears from Blake’s lashes. “If you cry I’m gonna cry, and--”

“I love you,” Blake breathes, and the words lay Yang out faster than any punch, knocking the wind right out of her lungs. The look on Blake’s face is beatific-- elated and adoring and thrilled. Like she’s proud of herself for being brave enough to say it; like she wasn’t sure she was going to know how. Only then the tears well up again; her voice hitches as she stutters: “I promised; I couldn’t get to you in time, you can’t-- I’ll follow you anywhere, I promised, I swear it, but you have to let me, I thought I lost you--”

This time it’s Yang’s turn to quiet Blake with a kiss, and she lets herself savor it. She clocks every sensation, every touch, every sigh, every brush of their lips. This isn’t about utility, or merely silencing Blake’s fears. It’s reassurance, and devotion, and a promise all its own: we’re okay. We can have this, now.

When she pulls back, she takes a deep breath, determined to find words that will mean as much as Blake’s just did, to make it clear just how much she feels--

-- only it’s a little hard to concentrate over how loudly Weiss is crying, a few yards away where Ruby and Jaune have her sandwiched between them.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to-- I just-- you did promise, all of you, you said you’d never leave my side and I was-- I was alone, I was the only one left, and I--”

Yang takes Blake’s hand, gratified when she gets an understanding squeeze and a nod in return-- to be continued. Whatever confessions of love Yang’s got scratching at the walls of her insides, they can wait a little longer; right now, they need to be with their team.

Together, they join the group huddle, saying nothing as collectively they abandon any attempts at soothing words and instead finally let themselves fall apart. Ruby all but crawls into Yang’s lap, and a thread of tension deep within Yang finally, finally relaxes, knowing that her sister is safe. Jaune cries loudest and hardest of all, and Yang buries a hand in his hair, wishing she could make it better. She knows what it feels like, to stab down and feel the life leave someone’s body, but that was-- she’d hated Adam. To have to do it to an ally, a friend, to have that responsibility on you, for someone you love--

--kill me, and I can make sure the power goes to you--

-- she shakes off the stubborn image of Raven’s scarlet eyes filling her vision and focuses on the people in her arms.

“Not to be super morbid, but maybe...” She pauses and chews on her words, wanting to make sure she says what she means to. “We might be a little past promises, now. All of us. I don’t know where we go from here, and the choices are only going to get harder. But-- we’ve always found our way back to each other before. Even here, and-- and I don’t even really know where here is. So maybe we can just... trust that. See where it takes us.”

She doesn’t realize she’s closed her eyes in a wince, unsure of how she’ll be received, until she cautiously squints them open again and sees half her universe staring back at her with nothing but love.

“I think that sounds good,” Blake says,

but her eyes say so much more.

#rwby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #blake and yang #bumbleby #weiss schnee #fic what i wrote #Anonymous

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thecousinsdangereux · 4 years ago

Text

the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”

#bumbleby #writing #rwby #bees racer au #for #corvophobia #<33333 #just a little something for a birthday treat

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bridgyrose · 2 years ago

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Loving the gods among mortals AU! Have anything else planned for that?

Blake ran a coin through her fingers as she watched Ruby lay Nora and Cinder on the couch with care, her heart cracking. “You said it yourself, you’re living with thieves. They should be punished for their misdeeds-”

“And they already have been.” Ruby sighed and gently stroked Cinder’s hair. “Besides, its not like they had much of a choice.”

“Of course they had a choice. Everyone has a choice.”

“And in the mortal realm, sometimes that choice is taken from you. Just like it was for me.”

Blake felt her heart skip a beat as her breath hitched, the coin in her fingers dropping to the ground as she tried to process what she heard. “W-what? N-no, you were born a god-”

“You and I both know that’s a lie,” Ruby said, her tone starting to sound more harsh. “I found out what really happened to me.”

Blake sighed and sat down next to Ruby, a gentle hand reaching for her thigh. Her finger traced a circle over Ruby as she looked away. “When did you find out?”

“Not long after I was banished. A few memories came back to me, I did some digging, eventually came across who I was. And since then, I’ve been trying to help people that were in the same place as me before I died.”

Blake nodded and looked over at Cinder and Nora, her fingers shaking as she tried to form the words she wanted to say. None of it sounded right to her, but she knew the truth of who Ruby was. The street urchin who was killed before her time was up, a soul that she had felt pity for and wanted to give a second chance. Someone she grew to love and thought she could hide away to keep as her own. “So these people are… like you?”

Ruby nodded. “Cinder was abandoned by her family at an orphanage. No one knows who or why, and she was “adopted” when she was ten. Her new family was abusive to her, so she ran away a few years later and lived on her own. I ran into her when she was sixteen and caught her trying to steal from me. I took her in and we got to know each other after a while.” She paused and glanced at Nora. “Nora joined us a couple years ago after Cinder brought her over. Turned out her mother abandoned her after their house caught fire and she’s been living on her own since.”

“And Emerald?” Blake asked curiously.

“She’s… different. She was a troubled kid who had a bad run in with me. She’s still not technically part of our family but she has nowhere else to go-”

“And yet, she still loves you despite coming home late.” Emerald walked down the stairs and sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “So, what was it this time? Another stray to bring here?”

“Not this time. An old friend.”

Blake watched as Emerald casually made her way over to Ruby and kissed her, her own heart stopping as her eyes locked onto her lover. Jealousy started to rise through her as she spoke, her own voice a loud whisper through clenched teeth. “Ruby, can we talk?”

Ruby nodded and smiled up at Emerald. “I’ll be right back, and then I’ll make it up to you for being late, okay?”

Emerald rolled her eyes and gave a playful pout. “But Ruby…”

“I promise.”

Blake didnt wait to pull Ruby by her arm, dragging her outside and pinning her to the wall. “What was that?”

“A kiss.” Ruby paused, then looked away. “Right… we need to talk about that…”

“Then talk.”

“I’ve… been dating Emerald.”

Blake’s heart shattered and she pulled away from Ruby, arms shaking as she put a hand to her lover’s cheek. She slowly moved her head to look her in the eyes, voice cracking. “D-dating? What about us?”

“We havent been able to see each other much, remember?” Ruby gently put her hand to Blake’s and gripped her fingers. “And since I have to play the part of mortal, I dont get to be with you. I still love you, but… we… we cant be together until I finish my task.”

Blake pulled away and sighed as she turned away from Ruby. “I… I should leave.”

“Blake-”

Blake pulled her own hood up and stepped through the shadows, disappearing without a trace. Her heart raced with the idea that she was losing Ruby, that she had done something to push her away without realizing it. She stepped through the shadows and into her own room, dropping onto her bed with a heavy sigh. With a shaking hand, she reached out to pet one of her cats, holding back her own tears. “I’ll bring you back to our realm, Ruby. And then you can be mine again.”

#ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #blake belladonna #emerald sustrai #drabbles #gods among mortals #gods among mortals au #rwby ladybug #ruby x blake #ruby x emerald #rwby gemstones

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paperpocalypse · 4 years ago

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family outing.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 29. Tucking their hair behind their ear to help them get it out of their face.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,436 words

Warning: Mild swearing

[A/N: Mild S2 spoilers!]

“So,” Vanya’s brow furrows, “Five met you after the apocalypse?”

“Yep.” Leaning against her car, you cross your arms and sigh dreamily. “Hate at first sight. He almost shot me in the head.”

“… With a gun?”

You grin. “Well, he couldn’t’ve shot me with a Twinkie.”

Vanya looks ahead at where Five is talking to some middle-aged guy, his expression friendly and polite. What a businessman. Her eyes narrow in shocked disbelief. “This is crazy,” she murmurs. “My family is crazy.”

Your grin widens as she shakes her head. Something about her mannerisms helps you realize why Five is so fond of her, though he’s never said it outright. She’s definitely your favorite of the bunch. Sans murderous intent.

“Some types of crazy can be good,” you reply, nudging her arm. “But your family’s got all of them and it’s gonna get real messy. Time to spice up your little farm life, Vanya.”

She chuckles a little awkwardly and shrugs. “I just hope I’ll have time to talk to them. Again, I mean. Maybe I’ll remember something when we’re all together.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Noticing Five bidding farewell to the man, you push yourself off the bumper and wave at him. “Any luck, Five?”

He points down the street behind you as he walks back over. “Plano Street Rooming House for Solitary Men,” he answers. “It’s just a few blocks from here.”

“How do you know he’s there?” Vanya asks.

“I really doubt Luther would live anywhere else.”

You snort, raising your hands in surrender when Five returns it with a semi-faux withering look. With a sigh, he shakes his head and opens the rear passenger door, gesturing for you to get in.

As Vanya starts the car and turns into the street, you look through the rearview mirror at Five as he tells her where to go. Despite being stuck in a thirteen-year-old body, he still has that resting glower of his that makes him look perpetually stressed.

(Of course, it’s not just a matter of looking stressed – he is definitely stressed. Wound up tighter than a spring. You’ll probably need to force him to sit down and relax for at least a half-hour tonight before he explodes.)

His hair is a little disheveled, so you reach over to brush it out of his eyes. It doesn’t really work, but just going through the familiar motion grounds you somehow. “You know,” you muse as Five glances back at you, “Luther’s probably living there, but I doubt he’ll be in right now. He’s probably with Ruby somewhere.”

“Even if he is, we can ask around. I assume that at least one person there knows his business.”

He absently lifts a hand to smooth his hair back, and you smile. “Good point.”

—

“Hello, do you know Luther Hargreeves by any chance?”

After some door-to-door work, someone from Luther’s hall finally answers your knock. He’s a burly man, though not nearly as big as Luther, and obviously drunk off his rocker. Definitely solitary. He squints at the three of you through red, puffy eyes.

“Luther? Yeahhh, I know ‘im. Huge bloke. Real hairy.”

“That’s the one,” Five confirms. “You see, we’re his brother and sister. He hasn’t visited home lately and we’re pretty worried, so we’re just wondering if you know where he is.”

Burly picks at his teeth. “Brother n’ sister, eh? Well,” he rumbles, “I dunno where he is, but I know some of the boys are gonna watch ‘im fight tonight.”

“Where’s the fight?” Vanya asks.

The man regards her with suspicion. “Well, it ain’t a place for a little lady like you.” He swirls his beer around in its bottle, then jabs a finger at all of you. “Don’t want you three squealing to the cops, either.”

“We won’t,” you assure him, smiling sweetly. “We just want to check on Luther.”

With a little more cajoling, you finally obtain the time and place for Luther’s fight before the man waves you away with a grunt, slamming his door shut. You give your companions a self-satisfied grin before descending the staircase back down to street level. Worked like a charm. (You suspect your youthful looks probably helped a lot, though.)

“How’d you do that?” Vanya wonders as the three of you step out onto the sidewalk.

“Simple,” you respond. “I have a knack for sweeping tough guys off their feet.”

You wink secretly at Five. He rolls his eyes, the minutest of smiles at the corner of his mouth, before ushering you and Vanya back to the Chevy.

Your little trio spends the next few hours driving and poking around, looking for Luther or Klaus or Allison. The optimist in you hopes you’ll run across at least one of them. But Dallas is a big place, and darkness begins to fall around 5:30 without a single sighting.

“Dammit.” Five clicks his tongue as you exit a paint shop alone.

“At least we know where Luther will be,” you point out, shoving your hands in your pockets. “How about we get something to eat before we head to the fight?”

Vanya unlocks the car. “There’s a place I know close by,” she says, lips quirking up. “They have sandwiches and donuts there.”

You pat her back. “Sounds great, Vanya. Five? You’ve got to eat something, too.”

Your favorite number crosses his arms as you and Vanya stare at him expectantly. “We’ll get something quick,” he eventually says.

The trip only takes a few minutes. The three of you get sandwiches and a donut each and unwrap them on the bench outside the bakery.

“Sissy and Harlan and I get something from here whenever we go into town,” Vanya says, finishing the last of her sandwich and picking her donut up. “It’s pretty good.”

“So good,” you agree. Lands alive, sitting out here like this makes you nostalgic. Ignoring the upcoming doomsday and the ‘60′s aesthetic, it feels like you’re back in 1927 again, staying out past curfew with your peers. You smile to yourself and look down at your half-finished maple bar. Best to enjoy it while it lasts.

A finger quickly sweeps your brow, tucking a lock of hair out of your face. You blink and glance over at Five, but he’s looking across the street and starting on his own pastry. (Apple fritter. Perhaps you’ll ask him one day why he always gets those.)

Heart feeling even softer than before, you lean silently against his side. He doesn’t move.

After a moment, Five speaks up. “When we were kids, I brought you to this donut shop near the academy a couple times.”

“You did?” Vanya asks.

“Yeah. Griddy’s.” Oh, the one near the academy. The one that had gotten destroyed along with everything else in 2019. He gestures at the last bit of donut – plain, glazed – in her hands. “You usually got that kind.”

She raises her eyebrows, looking into her napkin. “Oh, wow. I guess it must’ve been a subconscious choice or something, then.”

“Hm.”

“You know, I’m glad we found you, Vanya,” you offer warmly. “I didn’t … really have time to get to know you the last time we met.”

A smile spreads across her face. “Same here. For both things, I mean. Not that I’d know much about our first meeting.” She pauses, examining you for a second, then blurts, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

She awkwardly motions between you and her brother. “Are you and Five …?”

“Partners,” you finish, “in every sense of the word. From what I know, at least.” With a grin, you turn to Five. “Is that more or less right?”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Unfortunately,” he mutters as you move to smooth his hair back again. He sure had lovely hair when he was a kid – not that you didn’t appreciate his looks back in your Commission days. This de-aging thing really knocks you for a loop sometimes.

Vanya nods, still looking vaguely confused. “Okay. I don’t want to make things weird, I just – well, you two are kind of … young –”

“Believe me, we’re much older than we look,” you quip, standing up. “But that’s a tale for another time. We gotta go.”

Disposing of your trash, you join the others into the Chevy and start your next journey to Luther Hargreeves. Radio turned off, the leather seat squeaks as you lean back and listen to Vanya and Five murmuring in the front.

To see the siblings together again makes you glow inside, a bit of calm before the inevitable storm. You drink it in as much as you can.

1K notes · View notes

homoose · 4 years ago

Text

Through the Smoke

Request: could you do spencer x bau reader where they aren't dating yet but they both feel for each other? where both spencer and reader are very closed off people and the whole team knows that. but after one rough case on the flight back, they're both just exhausted mentally and physically and seek comfort in each other. then spend the night at reader's apartment and kiss for the first time there. sorry if this is specific but thank you (:

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst with a happy ending

Warnings/Includes: typical CM stuff, cults, kidnapping, violence, etc.

Word count: 8.1k

Music recs: Through the Fire by Jake Etheridge and Margot Todd; scared by Jeremy Zucker

a/n: anon, I have no idea if this is what you were looking for, but this is where it went. It’s a generous rewrite of 300, substituting the reader for Garcia. Also this blog operates with the understanding that the season 14 jeid arc does not exist lmao. JJ is firmly in the “I love you as a brother” camp and I will not be taking questions at this time. Also, this is a reminder that my requests are open! send me some fresh ideas, head cannons, rambles, whatever!

———

“Metro PD and the Bureau have been made aware of the Believers and possible activity following their leader’s arrest,” Prentiss confirmed, looking out over the team mingling in the bullpen. “But taking Theo at his word—”

“We only arrested three. There’s probably more out there, but if they follow cult dynamics, they’ll break down on their own without the messiah,” Matt finished.

“Typical cults: you think it’s a cast of thousands when really it’s just four whackos sitting around in the dark,” Tara mused.

Prentiss smiled. “I think we deserve some decompression time, and Rossi’s kind enough to host.”

Rossi leaned over the railing and nodded. “And I have some top shelf wine picked just for the occasion.”

The team started gathering their belongings and heading towards the elevators. Y/N hesitated, looking toward the case file still sitting on her desk. Something about how this had all wrapped up just… didn’t sit right. Her nearly five years with the Critical Incident Response Group had given her an up close view of some of the most prolific cults in American history. She’d studied Jonestown, Waco, Ruby Ridge, Liberty Ranch; new cults emerged onto CIRG’s radar regularly. And there was something about The Believers that just didn’t add up.

Y/N began shuffling things around on her desk, trying to look busy. She caught Spencer and JJ out of the corner of her eye, talking quietly. They ended their conversation with a hug, lingering just a little longer than Y/N would have preferred. She shook her head to try to physically clear the thought from her brain. She knew that Spencer had been through a lifetime’s worth of trauma before she joined the team, and that JJ had been an integral support for him. Y/N was also aware that she had zero grounds to be concerned with any of Spencer’s relationships, romantic or otherwise.

“Y/N, you coming?” JJ asked, walking toward her desk. Spencer headed out of the bullpen and down the hall.

Y/N gave her a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a little bit. Just wanted to finish up a couple things here.”

“Well, don’t stay too late.” JJ pressed her lips together for a moment before adding, “Maybe you and Spence could drive together. He said he might not make it, but if he had some company...”

Y/N hoped her immediate flush wasn’t too obvious. After nearly a year in the unit, she finally felt like she had built some solid relationships with the team, and Spencer was no exception. She relished their card games on the jet, the laughs over too-sweet coffee, discussions about books and films and music. But she also adored the way his hair sometimes curled and fell into his eyes, his animated and rambling tangents, the way his hands traced over the tiny print of his books. Most of her adult life had been spent surrounded by men who would gather up her trust in their pitted hands and crush it on a whim. She’d kept her heart behind glass for a long while, but Spencer was slowly chipping away at the fragile panels. She was certain he had no idea that he was even holding the chisel; but just about everyone else seemed to have figured it out. JJ, with her hands clasped together and an eager smile, definitely had. Y/N smiled, too. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“So we’ll see you in a bit?” When Y/N nodded, JJ gave her a warm smile and headed out.

Turning back to the case file, Y/N pressed her fingers to her temple and looked over the documents. Some of the pieces fit together, but the whole case felt littered with gaps and holes. The tale that Theo had woven about The Believers seemed true enough— his parents were simply the suppliers of potential cult members. Although, she still couldn’t figure out the reason for the kidnapping and torture. There were much easier ways to recruit vulnerable people.

She flipped past the pages of written statements and read over the report from the warehouse raid. It was short— the take down of Merva was too easy. Why was he sitting alone in an empty warehouse with only two unarmed, sleeping followers as a defense? Where was the rest of the cult? Matt was correct that most cults fall apart without their leader; unless the loss of a leader was a possibility they’d already prepared for.

The burns on Quinn’s hands didn’t make sense, either. Why use the initiation ritual as a torture device? Shouldn’t that be saved for people who had accepted the invitation? And then there was the one coincidence that nagged at her the most: what were the chances that Theo just happened to be enrolled in Spencer's course? Why did Spencer seem to be at the center of the whole thing?

Y/N sighed as her phone lit up with a message from JJ. She realized she’d been poring over the file for twenty-five minutes, and she had to laugh. As the least experienced profiler on the team, what could she possibly see that the others hadn’t? She closed the case file and quickly packed up, grabbing her jacket and bag and making her way toward the elevator lobby. She paused at the glass doors, retrieving her phone and pulling up Spencer’s contact information. Her thumb hovered over the call button for a long moment before she huffed out a breath. If even JJ hadn’t been able to convince him to go, there was no way she’d be able to change his mind. Despite herself, she glanced down the hall, allowing herself one moment to imagine an alternate timeline where she asked him to come along with her— to Rossi’s, to the moon, anywhere.

With a sigh, Y/N pushed open the glass doors and saw Agent Meadows leading Quinn to the elevator. She pushed down the little red flag in the back of her mind. As she stepped onto the elevator, she smiled politely at the two agents.

“I knew you didn’t do it. I just knew,” Meadows said to Quinn. She turned to Y/N. “And I can’t tell you what a privilege it’s been working with the A-Team on this case.”

Something about the calm in her voice made Y/N uneasy. “Yeah, it’s— um. It’s a great team to be a part of.” Her phone lit up again, this time with a phone call from JJ. “Okay, okay,” she muttered under her breath. Y/N answered the call, half an ear still listening to Meadows speak to Quinn. “Hey, I’m just leaving now.”

“Are you still at the BAU?” JJ demanded, voice low.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. But I’m in the elevator,” Y/N answered.

“Listen, we’re pretty sure Quinn was converted,” JJ told her. Y/N’s heart dropped into her shoes. “I need you to make sure he doesn’t leave that building. We’re coming back now. Where’s Spence?”

Y/N took a breath to try to even out her voice before speaking again. “Mom, we already talked about this. I don’t know.”

JJ paused. “Is Quinn in the elevator with you?”

“Yep.” JJ spoke quietly to someone on the other end of the phone. Y/N watched as the elevator dinged to the floor of the parking garage. “I’m going to have to hang up, mom. I’m gonna lose you, but I’ll try to take care of it tonight, okay?”

“Y/N, we’re on our—” The call dropped as the elevator hit the basement level.

Y/N took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Ugh, lost her.” She glanced at Meadows and Quinn, forced a smile and shrugged. “Elevators, right?”

The elevator doors began to open and Y/N stepped out, surreptitiously reaching for her holster. She had just lifted the strap when she heard the crack of metal hitting bone. Her face hit the concrete before she realized it was her own skull that bore the impact. She watched as her gun skidded across the parking lot floor, the taste of iron flooding her mouth. “Fuck,” she muttered, wincing in pain and scrambling up off the ground as a gunshot went off.

She didn’t feel the impact of the bullet. She looked down at her body, expecting to see a blooming rose of blood. She stared dumbly for a second too long, before remembering that she needed to get to her gun. Her hand instinctively went to her nose as she stumbled forward, coming away wet with blood.

“Stop, Agent Y/L/N.”

She heard the sound of a gun cocking, and then another. She closed her eyes and ran through an internal stream of curses. Raising her hands up, she turned slowly around. An older white man stood to her left, his gun trained on her. Meadows walked slowly towards her, lowering her own weapon. Quinn leaned against the back of the elevator, clutching his abdomen and blood staining the front of his shirt.

“Surprise,” Meadows sang, a sick smile spreading across her face. She stopped in front of Y/N, sweeping her hand in the direction of the man. “Now, John’s going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Get in the car.”

Y/N glanced in the direction of the vehicle, a dark sedan, driver armed to the teeth as well. “The team knows something’s up. You won’t make it out of this garage alive.”

Meadows laughed, loud and unhinged. “Oh honey. They’re not looking for lil ol’ me. And they sure as hell won’t be looking for an ambulance.” Her smile returned. “Plus, I already erased 299 murders from the Bureau’s radar. What’s a couple more? Now, shut up... and get in the car.”

Y/N moved to the open car door, keeping her back as straight as possible and her chin up, refusing to show them any cowardice. The barrel of the gun jabbed her in the back as she lowered herself into the vehicle. The door slammed shut, and in a moment, the gun was back on her, the man sitting next to her in the backseat. Y/N waited for the car to pull out, still trying to make sense of it all. Meadows was a Believer? What did she mean by “erased” 299 murders? Why would she blow her cover to shoot Quinn? Did she think that he had figured her out? Or that Y/N had? If that was the case, why not just shoot her? Why wasn’t the car moving?

“Drop your gun, Agent Reid,” Meadows’ muffled voice penetrated the inside of the vehicle. Y/N’s heart began to race. John dug the gun further into her side.

“It’s been you the whole time,” Spencer deduced.

“Yes, it was. Quinn somehow figured it out first. Pity having to shoot him,” Meadows mocked. “But he can’t give me what I want. And you can.”

“What’s that?” Y/N’s brain scrambled to put the pieces together as she listened to the exchange. Spencer was at the heart of it after all. It was right there, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Meadows continued, “You and I are going to go upstairs and free my Messiah.”

“You’re in the heart of the FBI. As soon as the rest of my team figures out it’s you, you’ll be dead before you’re out the door.” Y/N hoped to god that he was right.

“Then we need to work quickly.”

“I’m not going to cooperate with you,” Spencer told her. “Might as well shoot me.” Y/N didn’t even have time to panic before the car shifted into drive.

“I have a better idea.” On Meadows’ cue, the driver squealed out of the parking space and into Spencer’s line of sight. His eyes fell on Y/N, hands nearly pressed against the window, John’s gun pointed at her head. “Now, what’s it gonna be? Because you can either join us, or she dies.”

Y/N tried to radiate her rage through her eyes and screamed, “Reid, just shoot her! Shoot her!” The last thing she saw before the second crack of steel against her skull was the hesitation in Spencer’s eyes.

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open and she groaned at the pounding of her head, the rhythm of her heartbeat throbbing in the space behind her ears. She tried to lift her hand to check for blood, only to strain against the hold of a zip tie attached to the base of the chair. Instead, she surveyed the room around her. A warehouse, lots of shipping containers, and even more men— this time armed with assault rifles and machine guns. One stood at the entrance point of the small area she was being kept in.

She worked through her memory, putting the pieces together. Meadows was a Believer, had been for quite some time to pull all of this off. Quinn wasn’t special, he just got in the way of her real target. Ben Merva might have been the messiah, but Spencer Reid was clearly just as important to whatever mission they were carrying out. Every twisting thread of information somehow traced back to him: Theo in his class, Quinn’s attachment to him, Meadows’ demand that he be the one to free Merva.

“Good, you’re awake.” Meadows strode through the space with a laptop in hand. “I need your handiwork.”

Y/N stared at her. “Is that so?’

Meadows set the laptop on the barrel in front of Y/N and then leaned down to cut the zip tie. “Besides being my collateral for the good doctor, you’re also going to help me access CIRG’s surveillance data.”

“Fuck you.” Y/N spat on Meadows’ shoes. “I’m doing nothing for you.” Her head rolled back, eyes piercing daggers into Meadows. “You should just kill me now, because this is a waste of your time. And I’m sure you know the A-Team isn’t going to waste theirs.”

Meadows narrowed her eyes and gave a theatrical sigh. “I should’ve known you’d make this difficult.” She nodded to John, standing at the entranceway.

Y/N spat again, this time to rid her mouth of the taste of blood. She steeled herself for the next onslaught, compartmentalizing every emotion outside of her fury. Her mind raced to salvage and scrutinize the memories from her time in CIRG, trying desperately to identify what Meadows could be looking for in the surveillance reports. The Believers hadn’t even been on the Bureau’s radar. The reason had to be linked to their interest in Spencer… a piece of information that involved both Spencer Reid and the existing surveillance data. A single grain that could bring the whole damn bushel down.

She heard a scuffle at the entrance of the room and raised her head. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of Spencer, bloodied and bruised. John dragged him into the room, throwing him down onto his knees in front of Y/N. His eyes tracked over her face and clouded over with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“Shit, Reid—”

“I’m fine—I’m sure it looks worse than it is,” he murmured. The concern in his eyes told Y/N she looked about as bad as she felt. “Are you all right?”

“I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known—”

“No,” Spencer interrupted. “This isn’t your fault. We all missed it.”

“What’s the end game here?” Y/N asked. “What’re they doing?”

“I’m going to be their last victim.” Spencer shook his head, barely able to keep himself upright. “I don’t know why, but I overheard them. There have been hundreds.”

Meadows stepped up behind Spencer, grinning at Y/N. “Have you changed your mind? I sure hope you have.” She raised her gun to his head. “Because if you don’t do what I want, I’ll blow his big, beautiful brains out.”

Spencer locked eyes with Y/N. She held his gaze for a moment, then tilted her head slightly as the gears started turning. The tie between Spencer and Benjamin was where it all unraveled. “No, I don’t think you will.”

Meadows’ grin faltered for less than a second, but it was long enough that Y/N knew she was right. “Is that right?” Meadows questioned.

“Yeah, it is.” She furrowed her brow, and Spencer looked at her. “You need him, don’t you? Alive.” Meadows’ tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Y/N was sure. “Because this isn’t just about Benjamin Merva. It’s about Benjamin Cyrus. It’s about Liberty Ranch.”

Meadows held her gaze for five seconds, then ten seconds. Y/N raised her chin, refusing to be the one to blink first. Meadows shifted the trajectory of her gun a foot to her right and fired off one shot. The breeze from the bullet shifted Y/N’s hair.

“You have two minutes to decide,” Meadows advised. The phone in her hand began ringing. “The next one won’t miss.” She answered the phone and stepped out.

Spencer spoke quickly. “Do whatever she’s asking. We have to get you out of here.”

“Reid, are your eyes broken?” Y/N snapped. “There’s a cult loyalist with a machine gun every five feet. You got a plan for that?”

“Listen to me.” His voice was calm, determined. “You’re right about them wanting me alive.”

The frustration bled through Y/N’s voice. “You should have just shot her.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t do that.”

“You could’ve shot all three of them and ended this in the garage,” Y/N argued.

“And then I would have watched you die,” he said quietly. “That was never even an option.”

“I’m failing to see how that would have been any worse than this. Look at us.” She gestured wildly between them. She watched as the storm of emotion returned, a cyclone swirling in seas of gold and brown. “The team needs you. Spencer, I—” I need you. She reached a hand up, almost touching his face before dropping it back in her lap. He had found the chink in her carefully constructed armor; a fissure he’d fractured a little further with every smile, every look, every moment. All at once she knew she’d never be able to keep him out, no matter how much it might hurt.

“You’ve got one minute,” Meadows barked, hovering over them.

“Y/L/N, listen to me… Please...” Spencer’s voice was thick with tears. “Tell my mom—” The phone rang again, and Meadows stepped away to answer it. Spencer dropped to a whisper. His eyes flashed with urgency. “They’re taking me and Theo. We’ll distract them. The car we were in is right outside the door. We’re 18 minutes from Quantico. Turn left outside the parking lot, take a right at the light, you’ll recognize the rest. They stay off the highways.”

Y/N’s voice was frantic when she asked, “What about you?”

His eyes pleaded with her to respect what he was asking her to do. “I’ll delay them. Get the rest of the team back here. And do not worry about me.” John hauled up him off the floor.

“Time’s up.” Meadows, in a rare display of mercy, allowed them a hug.

Spencer leaned into her and Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She squeezed as hard as she could and whispered his name. She felt him take a deep breath into her hair, holding it for one impossibly long moment. Just before she released her hold on him, he mumbled, “It’s all happening. 10:23.” John dragged him back out the way they’d came.

“I gave you what you wanted.” Meadows ordered, “Get to it. Now.”

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N worked and waited, then watched and worried. Spencer spoke to Meadows. He was stalling her, offering a deal, boosting her ego, granting Y/N the opportunity to mentally prepare. But no matter how much time he gave her, she would never be prepared to leave him in that warehouse. He met her eyes across the movements of the operation and gave her an imperceptible nod before lunging forward to reach for John’s gun.

Chaos exploded throughout the warehouse. Theo ran in one direction, accosted by half a dozen Believers. Spencer and John tussled over the gun, one fighting for control and the other fighting the inevitable. Y/N sprinted, largely unnoticed, toward the huge sliding doors left slightly ajar. Bursting out into the night air, she immediately spotted one of the black sedans, unbelievably unlocked and with the keys in the ignition. She slammed the door behind her, turned the key, hesitated with her eyes on the door and her mind on Spencer for one moment too long. A single gunshot sounded from inside the warehouse.

Meadows raced out of the doorway, gun drawn. “Stop!” She pointed her gun at Y/N and there was nothing to do but step on the gas. Y/N had her eyes wide open as Meadows bounced off the windshield and onto the asphalt. She didn’t look back.

She drove. Left out of the parking lot. Just a dark, rural road—nothing particularly special or descript. She drove. Right at the stoplight. Then it was, just as Spencer said, familiar terrain. She wondered how it was possible to have seemed so far away— a world away— when it was right under their proverbial nose. She drove.

Her brain navigated of its own volition. Her mind couldn’t have been farther from the inside of the vehicle. She didn’t realize she’d arrived at the Bureau until she was attempting to pull into her usual parking spot, only to be met with her own abandoned car.

She turned the car off, left the keys in the ignition, and nearly floated out into the garage; up the elevator; across the cold floors of the lobby. Her body had walked this same path so many times before; it carried her without hesitation. She could hear the voices of the team, drifting through the open glass doors.

“She accepted their help knowing she would betray the government,” Tara deduced.

“Not every survivor wanted help,” JJ clarified.

Rossi continued, “We ran those who left the ranch and kept their names. A few relocated in rural Maryland and Virginia.”

“They could be helping now,” Luke suggested. “Any of them have large pieces of property?”

“A few,” Emily confirmed. Y/N turned the corner as she continued, “The Washington field office has started searches in Maryland. We’ll take the lead in Virginia.”

As she moved into the doorway, JJ’s eyes went wide and she rushed to Y/N’s side. “Oh my god, are you hurt?” She gently grabbed Y/N by the shoulders.

“It’s a warehouse in Hillcrest,” Y/N said flatly, eyes unfocused. “I can take you there, but we have to hurry. They hurt Reid; he looked— bad. He told me to r-run and take the car, but he’s still there.” Everyone headed for the doors except JJ and Garcia. “They won’t be there long, they have lots of trucks.” Y/N’s eyes locked on JJ, and for the first time since the whole ordeal started, she allowed herself to splinter, just a little. “I heard a gunshot. JJ, I heard a gunshot. I tried—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” JJ nodded, drawing her into a hug. “I know. I know you tr—”

“I left him there.” Her voice broke, but she couldn’t cry. Not yet. “I couldn’t get him. There was no way to save hi—”

“Stop,” JJ ordered, pulling out of the hug. “Y/N, look at me. You got out, you got back to us. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t even know about the warehouse.”

“What if— what if I got him killed?” Y/N asked.

“You didn’t get anyone killed. Spence knew what he was doing.” JJ’s voice softened. “That’s what he does. He always figures things out before the rest of us. He has a plan and getting you back to Quantico was part of it.” She raised her eyebrows, making sure Y/N was listening. “And now we have to help him by putting the rest of it together.”

Y/N ran a hand over her face. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”

Garcia stepped forward and laid a hand on her arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then we’ll get Reid back.”

They cleaned the blood from her face and hair as best they could in the bathroom sink. JJ patched up the lacerations with steri-strips. Back in the conference room, Garcia insisted she should get screened for a concussion as Y/N rubbed the knot on the back of her head. “There’s no time. Reid said, ‘It’s all happening. 10:23.’”

“But it’s past that,” JJ considered.

“So what did he mean?” Garcia asked.

“Could be a clue here.” Rossi's voice came over the speakerphone from inside the warehouse. “They got sloppy since they left in a hurry.”

“Okay, well you can’t be that far behind them,” JJ insisted.

“I know,” Emily agreed. “But there’s easy access to three major highways, and we don’t know which way they went.”

“Right, but they’re in tractor trailers. That means we can track them through weigh stations.”

“Garcia?” Emily prompted.

“In order to do that, I’d need the transponder identification numbers,” Garcia answered.

“Which we have no way of knowing,” Rossi sighed. “Everything they used was almost definitely forged.”

“We’re going to do another sweep here, and then we’ll head back,” Emily said. “Try to map out the most likely routes they’d use to get out of dodge.”

JJ hung up and looked to Y/N. “What do you remember about the warehouse?”

Y/N pressed her fingers into her temples. “It was full of supplies. They were disguising them, but they had stockpiles of weapons and ammunition; non-perishables and other food items; water. Enough to be off the grid for at least a year.” Y/N leaned back in her chair. “But it wasn’t just about The Believers. I mean, we know they’re a reincarnation of the Separatarian Sect.” She looked at JJ and Garcia. “It was more than that, though. Reid was at the center of everything; he was the target all along. Merva is the messiah, but it somehow all comes back to Spence.”

“Makes sense. They blame him for the downfall of the Sect,” JJ supplied.

“Yeah.” Y/N cracked her knuckles. “But—and I can’t—I can’t really explain it, but Meadows really wanted to kill Reid right then. She was— she was irritated, more than anything else.”

“So what stopped her?” Garcia asked.

“That’s what I can’t figure out. She threatened me with it, with ‘blowing his brains out,’ but I— called her bluff. And she was pissed.” Y/N rapped her knuckles on the table. “I mean, really, really furious. Which tells me that, even though she wanted to, she couldn’t kill him.” She looked between the two of them. “Merva was pulling the strings, and he wouldn’t let her do it there.”

“So it matters where the final sacrifice takes place,” JJ concluded. “We’ve got to figure out where they’re going.”

⧭⧭⧭

They’d been rehashing the details over and over. Liberty Ranch, The Strangler investigation, The Believers, Meadows, Merva, Cyrus, 300 victims, the hyoid bones, all of it. About the only thing they knew for sure was how far the cult could get in the trucks. Spencer could have told them the exact square mileage, but the potential geographical range of the trucks was dauntingly large. Y/N tried not to panic as she stared at the map.

“If this is about a Believer's rebirth, babies are born with 300 bones,” JJ said. “And they’re taking the hyoids.”

“And the hyoids we had in evidence are missing, which means Merva needed them back,” Tara reasoned. “And that means they mean more to the end game than we thought.”

Y/N felt her patience waning. “But why did Reid need us to know it all happens at 10:23?” Y/N hated that her voice sounded snappy and desperate. “That’s got to be important. It’s the last thing he said to me.”

Matt put his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, you’re right. It means something to him. We’re trying to figure it out.”

“Yeah, well, we better figure it out soon.” Y/N shrugged off his hand, pushed back from her seat at the conference room table, and turned for the door. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Every minute they spent floating ideas was another mile between them and Spencer. Another moment closer to losing him. She shoved the bathroom door open, hurrying into the stall and emptying the contents of her stomach.

She slumped back against the side of the stall, head gently knocking into the cool metal. She needed to pull herself together. The team was always strongest when they did their group think sessions, building upon each other’s knowledge and perspectives and filling in the gaps. If they’d done more of that earlier— if she’d had the confidence to call it out as soon as she saw the holes, Spencer might not be locked in the back of a truck, hundreds of miles away.

Y/N hoisted herself off the ground and out of the stall. She braced her hands on the counter top and tried to breathe evenly. She turned on the water and splashed her face, tapping against her cheeks. With water dripping down the planes of her face, she stared herself down in the mirror, willing her tired brain to make that last connection, to find that missing thread. It was all about the Benjamins, and she had a feeling that Cyrus was the key.

Y/N rolled her shoulders back and made her way to the conference room. She listened to their rotating conversation, knowing that this team was the only group of people capable of getting Spencer back alive.

“We have confirmation that there’s been no activity in or around the old ranch,” Matt informed them, pocketing his phone.

“If this is about rebirth, they’ll choose a new place,” Luke posited, arms crossed.

Tara leaned over the table. “Given their adoration of Cyrus and his love for the country, he’d want them to stay within our borders.”

“But Benjamin Cyrus wasn’t his real name, and he wasn’t born into the Sect,” Y/N reminded them quietly. Everyone turned to look at her. She gave an apology grimace to Matt. He just shrugged and smiled, motioning her over to the table.

Garcia nodded. “Right, let’s see. Uh, he and his mom arrived there when he was a teenager. He was kicked out for molesting girls. And then he served time in prison in Kentucky.”

“And that’s where he found religion,” Y/N recalled, thinking back to the report she’d studied dozens of times. “So he was reborn as Benjamin Cyrus in Kentucky.” She closed her eyes and flipped through her mental file cabinet, looking for 10:23.

“That’s within the area,” Garcia confirmed. “Maybe that’s where they’re headed?”

“Find out what city he was born in or where he was in prison,” Luke said. “We’ll spread out from there.”

“He found religion,” Y/N repeated, mostly to herself. “Chapter ten, verse twenty-three. 10:23 isn’t a time.” Y/N shook her head and then dragged her hand through her hair. “It’s scripture.”

“Let’s get in the air; we can narrow down which verse and city before we land,” Emily instructed.

⧭⧭⧭

“We’re approaching Kentucky; the pilot needs to know where to touch down,” Rossi informed them.

The team was scattered throughout the jet, scrolling through scripture on their tablets, reading out verses. Y/N held her chin in her hand, eyes unfocused, dragging a net along the furthest corners of her mind.

“Hey guys, listen to this,” JJ said. “Matthew chapter ten, verse twenty-three: ‘When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another.’”

“They’re going to the next town,” Emily said.

“Flee to the next town. But which one?” asked Garcia.

“Their end game is also a new beginning,” Rossi explained. “Cyrus brought religion back to the cult. They’d honor that by wanting to start fresh.”

Y/N raised her head. “Like the Garden of Eden.”

“That’s how 300 fits,” Tara concluded. “That was the number of angels that protected the Garden of Eden. Are there any Edens in Kentucky?”

The sound of Garcia tapping across the keyboard came through the laptop. “Um, no, but there are two synonyms: Canaan and Arcadia.”

“Cyrus is the original messiah. Which one is closer to where he was born?” Y/N asked.

“Arcadia,” Garcia informed them.

Y/N stood up. “That’s where they’re going.”

“Garcia, pull land deeds. I’ll notify SWAT,” Emily instructed.

JJ grabbed Y/N’s hand. “We’re going to get him.”

Y/N met her eyes. “I just hope we’re not too late.”

⧭⧭⧭

The new compound proved easy to find. In the middle of nowhere but illuminated by hundreds of lights, there were rows and rows of tents. The team began strategizing, looking for the best route to Spencer.

Emily tried to convince Y/N, now showing clear concussion symptoms, to stay with the SUVs.

“With all due respect, there is no way in hell that I’m going to sit in this car while Reid gets sacrificed by a homicidal cult leader,” Y/N said. There was a hushed pause, the team exchanging knowing glances.

“Fair enough,” Emily conceded. “Matt and JJ, I want you on the left side. Luke and Tara, the right. Dave and Y/N, you’re with me. We’re clearing every tent; eliminate any threat that would give away your position.” She unholstered her gun and swept her eyes across the team. “Our objective is to extract Reid with minimal loss.”

As they approached the first line of tents, Y/N could faintly hear Spencer speaking. “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” Her heart hammered against her ribcage. “A time to be born and a time to die.” She could feel the blood rushing through her ears. “A time to weep and a time to pluck up that which has been planted.”

“Okay, he’s stalling,” Meadows snapped. “That’s enough!”

“All right. Let the sacrifice begin.” That was Merva now, riling up the followers. “Protect us from all harm.”

As Merva led The Believers in a monotone chant, Y/N tried to block it out. She scanned a tent, watched as SWAT took out a bodyguard, looked for Spencer. Rinse and repeat, again and again. It was taking too long.

“And we thank Our Guardian, who will protect this family now and always,” Merva’s voice rang out. “Spencer: keeper of provisions!” Y/N saw the gathering of followers, but she couldn’t see Spencer.

The SWAT commander stopped them. They had reached the final line of tents. He signaled to the leaders on each side. They were ready to strike.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the crowd. She could just barely make out some sort of hanging mobile, white u-shaped decorations suspended from string. The hyoids, she realized, a wave of nausea hitting her like a truck.

Merva continued, “You have given selflessly to others and will be rewarded by the highest honor we could bestow. Your blood will be our blood. Your life will fuel ours.”

A gunshot rang out. The followers gasped. There was a split second of calm before the bedlam. Y/N took a single breath. Then she heard Matt yell; saw John lift his rifle and be felled by a solo shot to the head; watched Luke take down another bodyguard directly after.

And then she saw him. Strapped down under a canopy of bones, Spencer was silent and unmoving. He didn’t struggle. He didn’t call out. And there was Merva, knife in hand— still trying to complete his mission.

She didn’t vacillate, barely breathed, just let her legs carry her forward. She heard Emily call out his name. When Merva turned, the curved blade of the knife poised at the column of Spencer's throat, Y/N’s trigger finger compressed. She felt the gun recoil, felt the force of the shot travel up her arm as she put a single bullet in his chest. As he fell, she didn’t stop, just stepped over him, knew one of the others would take care of it.

She tripped over the small platform Spencer was restrained on, stumbling and holstering her gun. Her hands moved over the straps, loosening the one over his waist, then the ones at his hands, finally pushing the leather from his head. He panted and muttered his thanks, but she didn’t dare speak, afraid that if she did, she’d never be able to stop. Instead, she flung her arms over his shoulders, pulling him down and close and over her heart. She wondered if he could feel the way it pummeled against her chest, because to her it felt like it might smash through at any moment. His arms came around her, chin resting on her shoulder, nose in her hair. She heard him inhale and hold his breath, a mirror of that last moment together in the warehouse. She held onto him as an overboard sailor holds a life ring: single-minded, unrelenting, desperate.

There was a touch on her opposite shoulder and Y/N swung around, adrenaline still racing through her veins. JJ put her hand out in a placating motion, and Y/N came back to herself, allowing JJ to step forward and help Spencer off the platform. Y/N let out a breath and reached a hand out to steady herself, only to flinch when it brushed one of the straps that had held Spencer down. Luke caught her on one side, Tara on the other. She grasped at them, her emotions teetering right along with her physical form. Luke pulled her out from under the macabre canopy and into a hug. Tara held her hand. For the first time since the parking garage, she let herself go.

⧭⧭⧭

The jet was quiet. The team was spread out around the cabin, each of them lost in their own heads. There was a tranquility over the space, one that only ever happened when unmitigated relief overwhelmed even the joy or fulfillment of a life saved.

Y/N sat in one of the single seats, across the aisle from where Spencer was settled. Tara and Luke had finally convinced her to get checked out by the EMTs, who had confirmed her concussion. She convinced herself that the fuzziness on the corners of her vision was just a symptom of that, not a product of the tears she was struggling to hold back.

The team each stopped by Spencer’s seat, patting his shoulder, squeezing his hand, or in Rossi’s case, gently ruffling his hair. They all spoke briefly in hushed, grateful tones. All except Y/N. She couldn’t formulate a sentence that seemed adequate. There was simultaneously too much and nothing to say. Everything felt contrived or insufficient or intemperate.

Spencer was safe. They hadn’t been too late. He was bruised and undoubtedly sore, but ultimately, he’d been through worse. So why was her heart still aching? Why couldn’t she catch her breath? She hadn’t spoken more than a few words since leaving the raid, so why did her throat feel like it was on fire? She closed her eyes, leaned her head back. She incessantly pressed her hands together, trying to crack her sore knuckles over and over again.

A pair of hands gently closed over her own, stopping the abuse, and she didn’t have to open her eyes to know who they belonged to. His thumbs stroked over the backs of her hands and she cursed the tears that spilled over her bottom lashes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t force her to look at him or acknowledge her shattering. He waited her out, rubbing a rhythm on her skin and steadying her without a word. She opened her eyes but couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet. Instead she focused on their joined hands, reciprocating the gentle pulses he gave every so often.

She turned her head to wipe her wet cheeks on her shoulder as the landing announcement came over the cabin speaker. She did look at him then, and the emotion in his gaze left her feeling raw and exposed. Their hands reluctantly separated to buckle their seat belts. Y/N closed her eyes again, turning her face into the warmth of the early morning sun as the jet began its descent.

When they landed, everyone wearily shuffled off the plane, eager to get home to their beds. Penelope met them at the elevator, enveloping Spencer in a long hug, the rest of the team smiling at their embrace. They each moved through the bullpen, gathering their things and talking quietly. Y/N’s eyes paused on her bag, brought up from the parking garage by one of the team after she’d gone missing. They lingered for a long moment on the case file, still sitting where she’d left it hours ago, before she let herself let it go. She grabbed her bag and turned to see Spencer standing in the aisle, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on her.

“Hey,” she said dumbly.

He smiled. “Hi.”

Her hands wrung the straps of her bag. “How—how’re you holding up?”

“I’ve been worse.” He shrugged. “How’s your head?”

“I’ve been worse,” she agreed.

“That’s good. Because I think after all that, the least you could do is give me a ride home,” he joked.

Y/N knew he was trying to reassure her that he was fine, but she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. If anything, his attempts to provide comfort made her feel worse. Because she couldn’t forget the sound of the gunshot at the warehouse, the sight of the knife at his throat, the feeling of nearly losing someone whom she knew she could love if she just had more time. Too exhausted to hide her emotions, she could tell by the change in Spencer’s eyes that the pain was apparent on her face.

“Actually, you probably shouldn’t be driving, even if it’s just a mild concussion. Where are your keys?”

“It’s fine. I’m all ri—” Y/N started.

“I know I phrased that as a question, but I’m not really asking.” He held out his hand.

Normally she would have argued, but she just didn’t have the energy. Y/N dug into her bag, fishing out the keys and dropping them into his hand. He closed his fingers around them and jerked his head toward the door. “Come on,” he murmured. He waved to the rest of the team, and Y/N nodded, avoiding their eyes.

The ride in the elevator was silent. The walk to the car, too. They were pulling out of the garage before Spencer finally broke the silence.

“You know this wasn’t your fault, right?” he asked. Y/N stayed quiet. “We all missed the connection to Liberty Ranch.”

“But I knew something was off, and I didn’t say anything. I— I almost came to find you before I left, and if I had just done that—”

“Y/N,” Spencer interrupted. “The plan was already in motion. Meadows and Merva would have just figured out another way to execute it.” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “And without you and the leads from the warehouse, the team might not have figured it out in time.”

Y/N opened her mouth before realizing she didn’t have a response. She didn’t even want to consider that possibility. She leaned her head against the window, pressing the thumb and fingers of one hand into her eyes to stave off the throbbing.

Graciously, Spencer let her remain in silence the rest of the ride to her apartment. There was so much to say, especially now; she didn’t know where to begin. And even after everything, she couldn’t stop herself from bringing up that wall— protecting herself from what she knew could hurt her more than any unsub.

They pulled onto her street, fairly empty at such an early hour. Spencer parked in front of her apartment, opening the car door and coming around the other side of the car. She expected him to give her the keys, but as she exited the car, he waited by the gate for her. “I’ll walk you up.”

Spencer opened the gate, allowing her to walk through before closing it behind them and following her up the sidewalk. “I need the keys,” she told him.

He shook his head as if to clear it. “Right, right.” He placed them into her outstretched hand, and she wondered if she imagined his fingers lingering over hers.

When they reached her door, she unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open, stepping over the threshold. He waited outside, hands in his pockets. Y/N rolled her keys in her hand, and Spencer watched them.

“Um— thank you for—” Y/N started.

“I told Emily on the jet, and I’ll tell you now.” Spencer raised his eyes to meet hers. There was that look again, the one she couldn’t quite identify. “I’ve always had a hard time saying what I feel. And maybe sometimes it’s because I’m afraid of being disappointed. But sometimes it’s because the words I’m looking for don’t exist in the English language.”

“Spence—”

“Please just let me get this out,” he said. “There have been a couple moments over the past few months where I thought maybe we were sharing mamihlapinatapei.”

“Mamih what?” Y/N asked.

“Mamihlapinatapei.” He repeated, gesturing with his hands. “It’s a Yagan word that originates on the Tierra del Fuego archipelago off the southern tip of Argentina. It translates succinctly as ‘the wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so.’”

“Oh.” Y/N felt a flush rising up in her cheeks.

Suddenly, Spencer couldn’t meet her eyes. “I, um—I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize our friendship or make things awkward at work. But last night, I… I just— I’ve had too many moments in my life where I thought it might be my last, and I hadn’t said all the things I needed to say.” He met her eyes again, and there was that familiar storm. “Last night I was out of time, and I hadn’t told you how I feel, and I realized that I wouldn’t get another chance, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but I needed to—”

Y/N stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed their mouths together. She tried to pour everything into the kiss: every blush, every worry, every laugh, every panicked moment, every mamihlapinatapei. Spencer cradled her face in his hands, opening his mouth and capturing her bottom lip, accepting everything she gave him. She wound one of her hands into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and grounding herself to this new reality that almost wasn’t. The height of the kiss tapered off, and Y/N drew back, untangling her fingers from his hair and her heart from his grasp. Spencer watched her carefully, honey eyes uncertain.

“I do. Feel the same,” Y/N confirmed. Spencer’s lips twitched. “I’m not good at vulnerability. I’ve got a great track record of getting hurt.” Spencer grabbed her hand and opened his mouth, but Y/N continued, “But then I thought we might lose you, that time was out, and that I— I wouldn’t get the chance to see if you could be— if this could be more.” She gestured between them and then met his eyes again. “And I guess being vulnerable isn’t so bad in comparison. Because I think I could fall in love with you. I think maybe it’s already happening.” She held her breath and pressed her lips together, fighting the regret of saying too much.

“Actually, there’s a word for that, too.” Spencer smiled, warm and soft and genuine. “Forelsket. The origin is Norwegian, and it roughly translates to ‘the euphoria experienced as you begin to fall in love.’”

“Forelsket?” Y/N asked.

“Well, it’s more like forelsket,” Spencer corrected.

“Wow, okay, 187.” Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like days. “Forelsket.”

“Better,” Spencer praised. “There’s also the Tagalog version, kilig.”

Y/N took a step closer to him and smoothed his shirt where her hands had wrinkled it. “Translation?”

“‘The sudden feeling of an inexplicable joy one gets when something romantic happens,’ or alternatively ‘the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.’” Spencer moved his hand to her waist and stepped over the threshold.

Y/N cupped his cheek in her hand, soothing the bruises and guiding him back to her. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #homoose writes

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inkedtae · 4 years ago

Text

fountain of fantasies ⇾ jjk. [M]

⟶ from the eros universe; you do not need to read eros to read this one shot

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ god!jungkook x curvy!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ s2l, greek mythology au, circa. 1800 au, historical au, light fluff, angst, smut, pwp, filth, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ you rather be engaging in heart racing activities than in heart breaking ones

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 15.6k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!jungkook, bigdick!jungkook, buff!jungkook, winged!jungkook, longhair!jungkook, ponytail!jungkook, sub!reader, slightly insecure!reader, shy!reader, mentions and consumption of alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it folks), rough sex, playful-ish sex, semi-public sex, fountain sex, dirty talk, creampie, multiple orgasms, slight degradation, overstimulation, exhibition, a lil voyeurism, praise kink, anal, edging, squirting, choking, hair pulling, bodyworshipping, a lil motorboating, a lil begging, water play, a lil spit play, a lil breast play, ass play, a fountain of filth :)

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m too much of a hoe for greek god guk not to turn this into a mini-series...

⤜ banner by ↠ @thebannershop (thank you dearie~)

⤜ beta’d by ↠ @moonmintrails (my soulmate~)

⤜ le playlist ↠

Plump plum juices leak from your violet stained lips. You watch the storm rage through the balcony windows. Flashes of lightning, streaks of raindrops and the wall-rattling thunder only stares back at you. The noise of the world around you would be just the perfect cover for all the sounds he draws out of you. Teeth sinking into the fruit’s flesh, you take another bite and fix your stockings. Topless, you lean back in your plush seat and cross your legs.

You know he’s not coming. It’s been a week since his last visit, a week of staying up late only to fall asleep and wake up to a new toy. You glance at your bed. The collection of gifts under it do not compensate for his absence. You don’t want the ruby dildos or golden anal plugs. You can live without the silver tit-clamps and sapphire pearled whips. It’s him you won’t do without.

But tonight would be a perfect night of fun. You swallow your bite before taking another one as your mind circles every dirty thought you’ve been wanting to entertain for the last seven days. Staring out the rain stained windows, the one that appeals to you the most for tonight would be on that balcony, where it started all those months ago. The thought of being drenched in rainwater while he bends you over the railing makes you squeeze your crossed legs together. And the fluttering flap of his wings as they shake out the storm prickles your skin with goosebumps. Wet hands tangled in your wet hair. Loud moans blended in the loud thunder.

An urgent knock raps on your door. You sit up, letting out a shaky breath from the remnants of that fantasy. As you set your plum down by some grapes on the side table, you shoot to your feet to grab your robe.

“Bunny,” Mary, your sister, whispers from the other side.

The little childhood nickname brings a smile to your face. The two of you would play Wonderland in the garden as children and Mary would have you, Bunny, guide her down the right path. Now, she only ever calls you that when she’s nervous and struggling to admit it.

Tying the robe around your waist, you eagerly let her in. “What is it, Mary?” You smile as she rushes past you.

She doesn’t take a moment to properly greet you, darting to your little library instead. “Do you have that book about Mount Olympus?” She asks. Her freshly painted nails scrape over the spines of each book as you part your lips to reply. “Oh! Here it is!”

Returning to your seat, you watch your older sister skim through the pages. “Why the sudden interest in Greek gods?”

“Michael mentioned something about Hera and I just wanted to- I knew it!”

Chewing on another bite, you raise a brow at her. “I’m sure he’d be pleased to hear that tomorrow,” you chuckle around your food.

Mary pauses. Her eyes, previously gleaming with excitement, diminish into indifference. She clears her throat and shuts the book. “Mama says to never correct a man.”

You stuff your mouth with a big bite and avoid your sister’s gaze. There’s lots you have to say about your mother’s philosophy on love, but you know better than to voice those opinions.

Mary continues talking, despite knowing your reservations about your mother. She holds the book to her chest and tentatively sits on your bed. “Mama wants me to talk to you about something.”

Slowly chewing, you glance at her. You already know where this is going. It’s another desperate attempt on your mother’s part to make sure you don’t wear the dress he had gifted you. She knows full well how much it reveals and how well it’s designed. You don’t care for your mother’s opinion though; you haven’t for months. It’s Mary’s opinion on the subject that matters to you.

“But, I told her that I don’t want to lie to you.” She takes a moment to sigh then meets your gaze once more. “You’ll look gorgeous in that dress, Bunny,” she smiles. “And I have the perfect shoes for them too.”

A laugh bubbles out of your throat and you almost choke on your food. Mary laughs at your struggling state. “Oh, can we get ready for your party together?” You ask, perking up in your seat once you properly swallow your food.

Mary’s excited gaze wavers. She glances back at the book before hesitantly nodding. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing…”

You give her a pointed look. Flopping down on the bed, Mary groans and stares up at the ceiling. “What do you think of Michael?” You part your lips to reply, but she continues, “I mean I know he’s from a good family, and can take care of me, and he’s so handsome.”

You bite your lip at the last comment. Michael is not exactly your type of heartthrob. But, then again, your senses have been obscured by a god, so now not a single person can look as handsome, as beautiful, as heavenly as your Eros.

“But, he says and does things I’m not exactly…” She trails off. “And I think his previous courtship with Linette ended horribly.”

Her half-sentence rings some warning in your gut. However, by the way she avoids eye contact to stare at your crystal chandelier, you decide not to address it. “What makes you think so?” you ask instead.

“Well, that’s what he told me.”

Resisting the urge to scoff, you simply quirk a brow. Mary may be a couple of years older, but she still hasn’t grown out of her naive tendencies. You’re about to tell her that everything will be okay when you catch a familiar silhouette on your balcony.

He’s here.

Mary shoots up off your bed. You fear for a second that she may have seen him, but then she asks, “So? What do you think?”

Gulping, you take a moment to collect your thoughts. Erasing the fact that he’s finally here from your mind, you try to remain focused on your sister. You want the best for her. You want her to be excited about who she marries and for the life she will spend with that person. And that’s why it takes you a world of restraint not to tell her that if she isn’t a hundred percent sure about marrying Michael, then maybe she shouldn’t.

“Do you love him, Mary?” You ask. “And I don’t mean that ‘nobility’ love. I mean that, ‘makes you cry just thinking about losing him’ love.”

Mary hesitates.Your eyes flicker to the balcony where he continues to stand. Inhaling deeply, you silently ask him to wait just a second longer.

“I think I do,” she smiles.

Your heart shatters at her phrasing. I think. Where is the room for thinking when true love is at your door? You want to tell her that there shouldn’t be any of this ‘thinking’ nonsense. You either do or you don’t, you want to say. But her smile is so pure and eyes light up just enough that you don’t have the heart to take it all away. Besides, maybe she really does love him.

“Then, I think he’s perfect for you.”

Mary grabs the book and jumps to her feet. “Let’s meet in my room at seven,” she smiles, ruffling through your hair on her way to the door. “Have a good night, Bunny.”

“You too,” you smile as she shuts the door with a wink. The gesture is unusual but you suppose she’s just excited about the party tomorrow. You’re not exactly sure why she did it and with a winged god at your door, you can’t find it in you to care for too long.

Darting to the balcony, you pull open the doors to be greeted by empty winds and heavy raindrops. Those wings are gone, balcony vacant of anything but despair. Not even a gift replaces his presence. You hold your tears back and swallow the growing lump in your throat. Your time is not one of his toys, nor is it free. You’ve run out of patience. You’re empty of reason, thriving on broken feelings.

Shakily sighing, you bury the hurt in your voice and whisper, “if you can’t stay, don’t come at all.”

Sparkling diamonds, glasses, and wine circle the ballroom. Sipping on your drink, you take in the gleaming marble floors and the arches of the grand windows. The Barbury Estate is twice the size of yours. You want to believe that your mother’s delight in Mary’s proposal has more to do with her happiness than the fact that her fiancé is riddled with more wealth than he knows what to do with. But, you know that your mother has a special bond with money. It’s the same relationship she has with social standards. Her philosophy is simple; the more, the better. Now, if only your mother felt that way about you.

No, wait. This night is not about you. An evening lost in a grand room of people only appeals to you when the occasion for such torture is your sister’s engagement party. Your chest swells with pride as you watch Mary dance with her fiancé. Michael Barbury is not exactly what you would call ‘prince charming.’ His jokes border on racism and thoughts are somewhat insipid, but he makes Mary happy. That’s all that matters to you. Her relapse in judgement last night does worry you. But you know that she’ll be happy with Michael. With Eros gone, you wonder how soon you’ll find a love like that too.

Mary’s graceful giggles cut you out of your trance. You blink once, twice until your senses fully return to you. Even the smallest thought of him throws you out of your consciousness. Settling your eyes back on your sister, watching as she basks in Michael’s unwavering attention and dotting devotion, you’re greeted with a sense of comfort. The guilt of not speaking your truth disappears and the fear of never finding love dissipates to the back of your mind.

“Miss (Y/N)?” Lee Kyon asks, waving his hand in front of you.

Right, you forgot he was there. Turning to face him once more, you flash Kyon a somewhat kind smile. “Yes, Mr. Lee?”

He furrows his brows. “Is everything alright?”

Perhaps everything would be alright if your mother didn’t constantly feel the need to set you up with the first poor man that accidently looks your way. Yes, you’re well aware of your mother’s behaviour and the fact that Kyon has no real interest in getting to know you. Judging by the way he continues to loop back to the same dull topic about the history of wine, you can tell that he is merely trying to keep the conversation short enough to be polite, but not long enough to be courting you.

It’s not as though you care for his company either. Kyon has half of Michael’s intelligence. Even though you were only half-listening to his rant, you already pick out the few historical inaccuracies in his unprompted explanation. Of course, the worst thing you can do to a man is attack his wits and pride; that’s what your mother tells you anyway. It’s what worried Mary last night too. And you’ve tested that theory enough to know how true it is and how fun it can be. Watching them grapple for the right words, flare their nostrils in frustration and demand you apologize will always be just as humorous as when they try to “teach” you about language or art or, in Kyon’s case, history.

Biting back a sigh, you nod and silently pray for a way out of this boring conversation and into something a bit more exciting.

Clearing his throat, Kyon searches for a way to fill the silence. He then half-heartedly mutters, “You look darling this evening.”

Glancing down at your dress, your face heats up. The tiger lily-peach layers of satin and tulle fall down to your ankles. The pleated skirt mirrors the petals of a flower. Cleavage on display, the long flowy sleeves fall off your shoulders. Finished with a green ribbon around your waist and gleaming pink jewels, this is possibly the best dress he has gifted you.

Your Eros left it, no wait- he’s not yours anymore. A friend left it hanging in your closet one morning after another passionate night in his embrace. It was a beautiful surprise to be woken up to and a manageable struggle to explain how it came into your possession. You can’t help but find it a bit ironic how your mother is desperate to set you up with the first man she sees, but hesitant to dress you up for the occasion. He must have known, must have felt your frustration towards your mistreatment.

It takes everything in you to fight off the smile playing on your lips. You glance back up at Kyon, parting your lips to thank him when he continues, “And how brave of you to wear such a dress.”

You pause. “Brave?”

Kyon smiles and nods.

Is he really telling you what you think he is? Is he really undermining your confidence, undermining the beauty you know you have by commending your ‘bravery?’ No, you mustn’t judge too quickly. Perhaps he’s admiring your choice to go against expectations of covering up with a shawl.

You swallow back your initial assumptions, and decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr. Lee?”

“Well,” Kyon starts. He looks off to the side and raises both his brows before looking to you once more. His hazel eyes scan your figure, jaw clenching as he clears his throat. “A dress like this is traditionally worn by a woman that looks more like…” he trails off, eyes wandering as well. “Like Miss (L/N).”

A stinging chorus of hushed laughter strikes your pride. Your gut boils with shame and humiliation as your eyes bounce between the partygoers near you. You hadn’t realized they were eavesdropping. As a desperate attempt to ignore their maliciously amused looks, you follow Kyon’s gaze to Mary. Chewing on your lip, you ignore the urge to roll your eyes. This isn’t the first time someone has compared you to her, and you know very well that it won’t be the last. Even the utter disrespect of referring to you by your first name and your sister by your last name further displays their lack of recognition for you. In their eyes, you will forever remain as Miss (Y/N), the spinster-destined sister of Miss (L/N). And though you are certain that the twinge of pain and anger festering in your chest is for Kyon, you can’t help but be a little annoyed with your sister as well.

But then she laughs, smiling so bright and wide. She looks up at Michael and rests her chin on his bicep, reveling in his attention and embrace. You realize, in her moment of happiness, that you can’t find it in you to hold this grudge against her. Your love for her is greater than your pride. Besides, she plays no part in your insecurities. And, you decide as you turn back to Kyon, neither will this privileged upperclassman.

“How brave,” you sigh with a single shouldered shrug.

“What is, Miss (Y/N)?”

“How brave of you to believe anyone cares for your opinion.”

Kyon chokes on his drink. The partygoers, previously humoured by your embarrassment, relish in your courage to upstage Kyon. Gasping a giggle, you step back to avoid being spit on. He glares at you as he wipes his chin. You don’t hesitate to return that hard, hateful look in his eye. Raising a challenging brow, you dare him to attempt to embarrass you again.

He takes one step towards you, looking as though he’s about to grab at your arm when his stride is redirected. Kyon walks away without another word. You stare after him in confusion as he mutters an apology under his breath.

You’re not sure what caused this sudden change in his angry course, but you’re all too happy to be rid of him to dwell on the thought of his motives much longer. He must’ve known how offensive his words were. True, most people compare you to your sister, but at least they have the decency to do it behind your back. You rather be physically absent from a conversation like that. It makes it easier to ignore and avoid the negativity.

Confidence restored, you feel comfortable in your skin again. The dress is a perfect fit, the struggle to breath nowhere to be found, and sits well on your frame- despite what others think. However, you have very little time to revel in your victory as your mother stalks towards you.

“What have you done?” she hisses over your shoulder. Before you even have a chance to look back at her, she drags you by your arm to the edge of the room. “What did you say this time?”

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips as you clasp your hands before you and reply, “He insulted me.”

Your mother quirks a brow. “And?” She questions as if waiting for a more substantial argument.

“And?” You echo in confusion. “And he insulted me. I don’t see why that’s not enough of a reason to insult him back.”

She shakes her head and inhales deeply. You brace yourself for the disparaging rant you know is coming. Nothing good ever comes from a head shake and heavy sigh. But, instead of her usual ‘stay in your place’ harangue, your mother cuts to the chase this time. “Do you realize that might just be your only chance for happiness?”

Suppressing a dry chuckle, you lower your gaze to the floor. You know your mother is well aware of how her question sounds; you know she doesn’t care. Still, you ask, “Is that really what happiness looks like, mother?”

She falls silent. After a beat, you dare to peek up at her. Those once hard eyes soften as her gaze locks on Mary and Michael, locks on how they gaze upon one another with such adoration. Blinking repeatedly, she turns to you and sighs, “Yes, to some people that,” she pauses to glance at Kyon, “is what happiness looks like.”

A wicked pang of sad, lonely anger twists in your chest then tumbles to the pit of your stomach. Your gaze falls to the ground and heart shatters with that last shred of hope that your mother perhaps did want the best for you. Up until now, you truly believed that in some twisted way, she was just looking out for you, making sure you have someone by your side long after she’s gone. Her words now and that shameless look that matches that shameless confession only point to the painfully obvious fact you have tried so hard to ignore. Your mother’s need to make you look a certain way and throw you at any breathing man has never been for your well-being, but rather the well-being of her reputation.

“Go to Mr. Lee, (Y/N),” she orders. “Offer to freshen his drink, wipe down his shirt, and then apologize. Beg for his forgiveness if you have to; just make this right.”

With a deep breath, you trail your eyes back up and try to collect yourself. Your eyes flicker between the exit and where Kyon stands.Your mother clears her throat, drawing your attention back on her.

“Have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

She returns to her friends, that gleeful smile plastered on her face once more. Your eyes fall back on Kyon with every intention of following through your mother’s orders. However, he only greets your gaze with malice. A wave of nausea overwhelms you.

With a shake of your head, you tear yourself away from his threatening demeanour and turn towards the exit. You just need to get out of his line of sight, out of that pretentious atmosphere. Something within you can’t seem to stop telling you that one more moment near that passive-aggressive punk will only make you feel worse. So, you lengthen your strides out of the ballroom and down the hall to put as much distance between you and them.

The pressure of their expectations suffocates you like no corset ever has. All you can think is how desperately you need some fresh air. It takes you a moment, but you navigate your way around the manor well enough to find the back entrance.

Cold air engulfs you the moment you step outside. A relieved giggle slips past your lips and you throw your head back to relish in the cool spring breeze. The sky reflects a swirl of silvery indigo. It lures you into its constellations and wonders with every other glance. Lowering your gaze, you scan the garden before you. A cobblestone path leads all the way down to a hedged maze. You can never resist a good garden. In fact, you had helped design the one back home. You hope that when your husband-to-be comes along, he’d have a garden too and maybe you can design it together.

Realizing you can maybe hold on to a few more moments of peace if they can’t find you, you decide to follow the path and hide away within the walls of the maze. You’re halfway down the cobblestone trail when you sense a strong pull dragging your soul closer to the hedges. Picking up your pace, you follow that tug faster, soon weaving through the maze like you’ve been through it before. It’s not long before you reach the centre.

It’s a large clearing, decorated with a variety of blooming flowers. In the middle stands a grand marble fountain. Three tiered, the fountain sprouts fresh water through the mouths of singing angels. A little smile plays on your lips as you click-clack your way towards it. The tranquil rush of the stream calms your previously erratic heart. You take a seat on the edge and stare down at the pool. It’s empty of floating flowers or little fish like the one you have at home, but still beautiful all the same.

“Miss (L/N).”

Your eyes well up the moment his sweet voice greets your ears. A shaky breath escapes you and you turn to find him. Did he not hear your words last night? Does he not care? Or is he here to stay this time?

Sitting atop the hedges of the garden maze and out of the moon’s light, he looks just as heavenly as always. Most details of his beauty are hidden, but you can make out his long hair and the way it’s pulled back into a ponytail, leaving loose, short strands to frame his face. And those soft wings are out, spread wide behind him as he stares back at you. Shirtless, he smirks.

You can’t help the smile stretching upon your lips at the sight of him. It’s an uncontrollable reflex, as is the wetness of your core when he’s around. He usually doesn’t arrive this early when he does show up. How long has he been there?

Clearing your throat, however, you subside the urge to smile upon his presence. “Mr. Jeon.” His name leaves your lips in a trembling breath as your heart’s aflush with desire. You have to remind yourself that you’re upset with his disappearances.

A sweet smile takes over his features. “I’ve upset you,” he notes.

Is this a joke to him? How many nights does he expect you to wait around for a maybe? You both know your time is worth more than that. And though you want to tell him that he’s done more than upset you, that he’s disappointed you, you confess something else instead. “I’ve missed you.”

“You know I miss you too,” he replies.

You resist the urge to scoff. “Are you working tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I just got off actually.”

Without me? You mentally scold yourself for your dirty thought. You can’t even hold onto your anger for more than thirty seconds without having the urge to spread your legs for him. “Lucky me,” you sarcastically reply.

“Do you like the dress?”

“I’d like it more with the gift from last night,” you glare at him. “If there was a gift from last night, that is.”

Hopping off the edge, his wings fan out to guide him down before you with ease. Your face falls as he stands in the moonlight. Thick mud coats his muscular body and those once white wings are stained with dirt and grim. His sharp face is scratched with little scabs as well. He looks like he fell from the sky.

“Jungkook,” you whisper as you reach out to caress his wounded cheek.

But Jungkook can’t be any less interested in his current state. His attention does not waver off you. Those kind eyes of his scan your frame, lingering around your breasts. “It looks even better than I imagined.”

You feel as though you have to ask him if this really is a joke to him this time. He leaves you for a week with very little behind and returns only to be caked in mud and peppered with wounds and has the audacity to pretend it’s not an issue. Now, you’re upset.

You blink back your tears, quietly asking, “What happened?”

Maybe it was the hurt in your tone or the worry flashing in your eyes but his usually cocky demeanor trembles just enough to comfort you. “It’s just been a long night, baby. I missed a couple of shots and it took a little more effort than usual to fix everything.”

Fidgeting fingers trail up the exposed side of his thick thigh under the stained toga-like skirt he wears. He shudders under your touch as your hands make their way up to his buff chest where they stay. You inhale deeply to settle your erratic heart. The earthy grim of the mud invades your senses. He doesn’t even smell like himself anymore.

Knitting your brows together, you ask, “Are you hurt?”

Jungkook’s entire expression softens. Shaking his head, he goes to cradle your body closer to his but stops before his hands reach your waist. You can feel his desire though, to touch and be touched. It’s raw and real, and purely Jungkook. This shared desire the two of you have roots deep within your souls. It breaks your heart to think that he’s not yours anymore, and maybe you made that decision rashly, in a moment of anger. But, you both know it’s not how you feel right now.

“I need to know your schedule,” you say in a quiet voice. He tongues his cheek, erupting your heart with a surge of want. You ignore the feeling long enough to continue, “I can’t just sit and wait, Jungkook.”

He stares down at you, eyes unreadable. You can tell that he’s mulling over your words, but have no clue how he feels about them. Finally, he cups your cheeks, staining them with dirt, and says “I need you to trust me when I say that I’m doing my best to get to you as quickly as I can, darling.”

Your heart cannot deny him when his gaze reflects such sincerity and honesty. Every ounce of trust, of belief is in him and only him. And maybe you are being selfish, but to be stranded without an explanation is heartbreaking. You know he knows that, or at least feels it in you when you think of him and pray.

“Just tell me I’m yours again,” he whispers, “and I’ll prove to you how much I’ve missed you too.”

Is that why he’s here? He’s afraid of losing you? Biting your lip, you can’t help but lean into his touch. It was mean of you to punish him like this and make him think that you were really upset with him when in actuality, all you wanted was a little more attention. You give him an innocent look through your lashes. He does his best not to swoon, but you know him well enough now to know that the little quiver in his lips means he’s on the verge of getting on his knees.

“No man of mine is this dirty,” you smirk, echoing the words of your first encounter.

Jungkook smiles and this time you have to keep yourself from swooning at the sight of his dimples. “I thought that’s exactly how you like them,” he purrs as he walks you back towards the fountain.

Heat rushes to your face. The marble edge of the fountain hits the bend of your knees but you refuse to sit down with Jungkook only inches away. His hands may still be on your face, rubbing that dirt into your cheeks, but his body is still too far away from yours. You move to take a step forward, desperate to have your body against his. However, Jungkook is quicker, most likely having read your mind, and moves back before you can even get half a step in.

Your eyes harden at the action. Pushing his hands off your face, you quirk a brow.

“I don’t want to ruin your dress.”

“A dress like this is meant to be ruined.”

He smirks. You can tell by the amusement dancing in his eyes that he’s enjoying the sight of you this needy and possessive. He decides to further test the limits of your composure, asking, “Don’t you have a party to get back to?”

He’s teasing. The mockery riddled in his features is enough of a hint, but the playful tone in his voice is still something you bask in. Taking a seat on the edge of the fountain, you let out a deep sigh and look up to the clouds. “A flight back home might do us both some good,” you suggest instead. “It’s not like there’s anything waiting for me at the party anyways.”

“Not even your sister?”

You shake your head.

“Mother?”

Face folding, you suppress the urge to groan and whisper, “Oh, gods no.”

Jungkook chuckles as he circles around the fountain. He dips his hand in the clear water, before asking, “What about Lee Kyon?”

Now, what would Jeon Jungkook know of Lee Kyon? A quick scan of his features doesn’t let you in on much besides the fact that he’s trying to draw a reaction out of you. However, what reaction is he hoping for? Is he looking for an explanation? He knows all about your mother’s habits and your relationships, or lack thereof, with mortal men. You never even have to say it; Jungkook knows there’s no one else for you but him.

“Mr. Lee is fragile,” you sigh.

His wings twitch. He likes what he hears. You curl in your lips to keep from smiling. Could he, Eros the god of love, lust and desire, really be jealous of an imbecile? Setting your visual tastes aside for a moment, you and Jungkook both know that Kyon, bless him, knows less than the very fountain you’re sitting on… The very fountain Jungkook is climbing into.

“What are you doing?” You ask, shooting to your feet as Jungkook makes himself comfortable. A giggle tumbles out of you, even though you tried to bite it back, at the sight of him washing himself like a bird.

Jungkook stops for a moment, that playful gaze meeting yours. This one look is enough for you to know he’s heard, and he’s most likely still hearing your thoughts. You wish you could dip in and out of his mind too. It might put an end to all the guessing on your end.

Continuing to splash his torso clean, he replies, “You’re sending me some mixed messages, baby. I thought you didn’t like me dirty.”

He has a point. Making your way over to him, you sit by his submerged frame on the edge of the fountain. Jungkook rubs his lips as he watches your jeweled fingers trace the curves of your cleavage. Your hand stops in the centre, just above the tied strings of your corset. You begin unlacing it when Jungkook tsks. Snapping your gaze to his, you wait for further instructions.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to get in with you.”

“So, get in.”

You move to unlace your corset once more, but Jungkook grabs onto your wrist. Catching his darkening gaze, you furrow your brows at his tilting head. He’s gesturing for you to get in, but won’t let you take off your dress. He can’t serious think you’d get in wearing it the water is filthy with his-

Glancing at the clear water, your thoughts are overtaken by confusion. You expected it to be tinted a dark brown from all the mud but it only reflects the marble bowl of the fountain, Jungkook’s legs, and that growing erection between them. You probably should question him on when he took that skirt off and why the water is so clean even after he went into it with layers of dirt coating his skin, but the heat between your legs is slowly growing more and more insufferable.

Your eyes flicker back to Jungkook’s to find him already staring at you, a smirk painted on his handsome face. He pushes his tongue against his cheek once more, knowing how much you love that move, then quirks a cocky brow. Kicking off your heels, you lift your dress enough to dip each stocking covered foot into the fountain. You hiss at the sensation of the soggy socks against your feet, but power through knowing how much Jungkook loves the way they look on you.

Your dress puffs up to the surface and you have to push it down and back to put as little space between you and Jungkook. “Your hair’s filthy,” you pout as you finally straddle his lap.

Jungkook lets out a little sigh. You first think it’s because his cock stands right in front of your pussy, but soon realize how wrong you are. His dazed gaze wanders over your features, unsure where to stop and what to admire first. Those large hands instinctively find your thick thighs. He rubs and massages them as you untie his hair and wet your hands enough to wash some of the dirt away. You tilt his head back and lick your lips. It’s a habit you have when concentrating. Jungkook knows it well.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he suddenly purrs. His voice is thick, saturated with lust and adoration. “Honestly, you don’t have to do anything, darling, just let me look at you for a little bit.”

You freeze, hands half tangled in his mud slick hair, and gaze back down at him. Dipping your head down, your lips catch his. You’re obsessed with the lack of hesitation between the two of you. Never has Jungkook thought twice about taking you as his when the two of you are this close. No matter how long he’s gone or how upset you may feel about that, when you find each other again, it’s almost like he never left. Your souls rapture in harmony and bodies tangle indefinitely. Eternity lies in the palms of your hands every second you're together.

“I’ve got to clean your hair,” you mutter against his lips. He only hums before kissing you again. Inhaling sharply, you let him have another sip of your breath before pulling away completely. And you realize, as you glance at his wings, that they could probably use a good scrub down too before the two of you indulge in the good fun you’ve been dying to have all week.

Before you can vocalize this, however, Jungkook is already readjusting your shared position. He tucks his wings tight behind him and shifts the two of you around so that the stream of the fountain washes down his back. “Hurry,” he orders. There’s very little room for negotiation in his tone. His appetite for a fun night is growing too and you can’t help but smile at the eagerness you’ve triggered.

Sticking your tongue out, you hook it under his chin and tilt his head back. Jungkook continues to gaze down at you as he gives into your gesture. “That’s hot,” he mutters.

This is new. He never talks this much when things start to heat up. Most of the time, you’re tossed looks and expected to decipher his mood, but you’re all too caught up in how gorgeous he is, you can barely understand what he means. Everything is always based on feelings and going with your instincts. But this time, Jungkook’s more vocal. It’s almost as if he’s thinking out loud.

His wings twitch again. You snap your gaze from his hair to his eyes and find he’s raising a brow. Didn’t you wish you could hear his thoughts too? Could this be his way of granting it to you?

“You know what I like most about you?” He asks as you continue to wash the mud from his hair. Grazing your nails through his scalp, you hum in reply. “You’re incredibly intelligent.”

Your fingers shudder against his head. The guilt of last night returns. Your sister should be with someone who isn’t afraid of her intelligence either. You should’ve told her not to follow through with this, not to marry Michael.

Jungkook’s hands trail up to your ass, gripping onto the plump flesh. The harsh gesture snaps you back into the moment. You jump a bit and let out a little squeal as your gaze meets his. “I much rather you don’t think of other men when you’re with me,” he groans.

Fighting off the proud smile tempting your lips, you nod. “Sorry; it won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” he mutters and that smile finally settles on your lips. “And don’t worry about your sister. She’ll be fine.”

A part of you wants to question him more about how he knows that, but the death grip he has on your ass and the way he’s looking at you does not leave much room for a sexless conversation. You rather your family stay out of conversations like this with Jungkook. His desire to be the only one in your thoughts makes a bit more sense to you now.

Smiling, Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose. “You figure things out faster than most people,” he says.

You kiss the little freckle under his lip to let him know you’re done cleaning his hair. “You spend too much time in my head,” you tease. Instead of in my… The rest of the sentence twirls in your mind for him to find it.

As you move to clean his right wing he chuckles and continues, “I’m serious, baby.” He kisses your neck as you stand on your knees and reach for his wing to properly clean it off. “Your mind amazes me. That’s why I spend so much time there.”

Barriers of the mind fall. They were trembling before but now, with every whispered thought Jungkook voices, you can feel those walls of distance crumble around your inseparable bodies. You’ve always melded perfectly physically and stroked the other’s spirit by caressing your souls, but mental barriers have always halted any real conversation between you and Jungkook. He’s always been able to know your next move, your every thought because of his immortality. And to have the chance to do the same only makes you feel that much closer to him. For this reason, you hope he doesn’t regret opening up to you and giving you a little peek inside his mind.

Your physical senses shock you back to the moment. His fingers soften their grip on your ass, rubbing it instead and your pussy reactively clenches at that pet name you love so much. Unsteadily inhaling deeply, you move to clean his other wing in silence. You decide you won’t talk this time. Your mind is open to him if he’s looking for your opinion, but tonight you just want to hear his thoughts and be the one tossing unreadable looks.

Jungkook chuckles against your neck, rolling his shoulders back as you brush your fingers through his wings. His lips trail down to your collarbone. He kisses his way down to your breasts and buries his face between them. Breathing in your scent, he sighs happily and mutters, “This is my favourite thing.”

Your breasts? By the way his hands always settle on your ass and the fact that his first hand-delivered toy was an anal plug, you always just assumed that his favourite feature of yours must be your ass. But you suppose if your breasts-

“Actually, I was talking about the way you smell.”

“It’s called soap,” you tease, earning yourself a light spank. He then bites on your right tit, sucking on the skin just because he can. You giggle and settle yourself back on his lap. Your ass, plush and plump, all but melts over his muscular thighs.

Jungkook stares at you. His brown eyes are vacant and lost in thought. He quiets under your gaze, only just shifting to pull you closer than you already are. Your pussy frames the length of his cock and you find it increasingly hard to stay still. Trying to read that dazed expression on his face, you wonder what happened with his devotion to thinking out loud.

Licking his lips, Jungkook finally breaks the silence. “Twenty-three.” He leans towards you turning the two of you back around so his back is against the fountain’s edge again. “I want you in twenty-three different ways, but I don’t think we have time to do all of them.”

You swallow thickly. Grinding your hips into his, you rub your needy pussy against his throbbing erection. Jungkook’s eyes slightly roll back and he has to hold your hips down only to look at you properly again. “Can we make time?” You ask. The desperate cry for more is evident in your voice and you know that, by the quirk of his brow and the shudder of his wings, he’s having trouble saying no.

“I wish,” he confesses. “My favourite ones take time.”

His fingers dig into your ass again, hinting at what his favourite positions might be. It’s no surprise that it has to do with your ass, you’re just worried that he’s going to ask for more than you’re ready for. Yes, you may have gotten used to anal plugs over time since he knows how to prep you for them, but his cock is an entirely different game. You are constantly reminded of how those other toys really are just toys because his cock is that uncomparable.

Jungkook relaxes back against the marble wall and watches you as you salivate over the size of his cock. He doesn’t need to read your mind to know you're terrified of whatever pain may come with it but excited because you’re just that much of a whore for him.

“You know you don’t have to do it. I have lots of other favourites,” he smirks.

As your thoughts trail off, he bucks his hips into yours. You breathe moan and clutch onto his shoulders. Every little movement makes you ache for more. A week without a single bit of sexual stimulation, even by yourself, is too long. He never told you that you couldn’t play around alone anymore, but when you have him, why the hell would you play with yourself? You know he’s going to come every night, or at least you hope he is. And the truth is, one he must already know judging by the pleased look in his eyes, even if he had told you he wasn’t coming, you still wouldn’t have touched yourself. Nothing can compare to his touch; you don’t need to try anything else to know this.

A shaky breath escapes Jungkook at your next mental confession. You don't think you were ever really mad at him. You just knew that acting out would get him to come tonight. Jungkook scoffs, looking up at the darkening sky as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Are you even really sorry? His eyes dart to yours as if wanting to see for himself if your thoughts are true. You don't know if you can answer this question with his eyes on you like that. But, that conclusion seems to be enough of an answer for him.

He shakes his head and wraps his arms around your waist. Pouting, he asks, “Do you know how worried I was?”

You mirror his expression, drawing a pout in your features as well, and press your chest against his. His breath hitches and body melts into yours, betraying his intentions. Noticing his struggle to stay upset with you, you pepper wet kisses under his chin and along his jawline.

Jungkook can’t resist you for much longer. He whimpers as his hips grind into yours. Bending at your every touch, he unravels beneath you. A giddy smile breaks your pouty features and it’s only then that he seems to realize how much he’s let himself go in front of you. His grip on your hips hardens. As you kiss up his face, you find his lust-stuck eyes dark with dominance. He hates being vulnerable to your touch this much.

“No, baby,” he rasps. You quirk a brow. “I hate how drunk you get off the power.”

A proud smirk twitches on the corner of your lips, confirming his words. You’ve barely had taste for the power he’s accusing you of getting drunk off of. However, the fact that you’re able to control him so well with such a small dose fills your heart with pride.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“I am?”

There’s a certain cocky pitch in your tone that rings sharply to his ears. His brows twitch, wings flutter, and gaze wavers. He may have been able to look past your exaggerations of dismissal and the way you tease him, but to speak to him with very little regard for his power unleashes something primal within him. You can always tell you’ve really pissed him off when he pouts, clenches his jaw, and breathes so steadily, you can barely hear him.

Jungkook watches you carefully. “One week without my dick and suddenly you think you own it?”

“Don’t I?”

A sharp smack lands on your ass. The slow draft of the water does not slow his hands down. In fact, it only increases the sting and accuracy. You gasp and fall forward against him only to be spanked again. Another moan leaves you, this time with your lips hovering over his. Exchanging breathes, a dangerous thought occurs to you. Your lips are over his. What’s to stop you from spit-

He growls. You tremble against him. The purely thunderous rumble in his chest rattles your soul. “I fucking dare you,” he hisses.

Though you want to heed his warning, you can’t help but notice how he keeps his mouth open despite his disapproval. You gather what you have in your mouth and pause for a moment, knowing that he knows what you’re about to do. His mouth remains open. You drop the wad of spit it without a second thought.

Jungkook swallows it almost immediately. “You’re going to regret that,” he breathes.

“I highly doubt that,” you smirk.

The cocky persona you seemed to have picked up from him crumbles when his middle finger pushes between your cheeks and circles your tightest hole. His words about his favourite ways to fuck you return to you in distant echoes. You arch your back and push your ass into his hand. His finger threatens to slip in.

“You’re barely ready,” he scoffs.

Do you harbour reservations based on fears that he just might be too big to fit in your ass? Of course you do; he’s huge. A fact of which he can’t help but always smirk at when you point it out. But, you’re hungry for him and you know that he would never do anything to hurt you. Letting out a shaky breath, you affirm, “I can take it.”

“You aren’t wet enough.”

“Then, change that.”

The continuous authority that drips in your tone has tested his patience for the last time. Reaching a hand out of the fountain, Jungkook grabs for something on the ground. You try to lean over him and sneak a peek at what he’s looking for, but the friction of your clit against his length has you shuddering back in place.

A little smile breaks Jungkook’s previously callous expression. He pecks your neck and laughs quietly against your skin as he mutters, “You’re adorable.”

Heat rushes down to your core instead of your face at the little praise. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lips when you catch a glimpse of something gold in your peripherals. Glancing up, you find him clutching onto his bow. Before you have the chance to ask what he’s planning, Jungkook only just drops the tip of his bow in to break the surface of the water. A misty rose gold tints the clarity. Little flicks of sparkling gold twinkle back at you as you watch the fountain filter the essence all around you.

You cautiously meet gaze. He always confirms new things with you before acting on anything, no matter how mad or horny he is. His rash decision to spike the fountain with an unknown substance chills your blood for a second. You start to shift back from him a bit when he breaks the silence.

“It’s just a lubricant,” he quickly explains. A relieved breath, you didn’t realize you were holding, leaves you. Shifting back against him, you nudge your nose against his. “Sex is a bit different underwater, baby, and I don’t have time to get you as ready as you need to be.”

A gentle nibble on his lip is all it takes for the rush of the fountain to be the only sound in the silence that settles upon you. His hands guide your hips against his, the fiction much smoother now with that hint of lubrication swirling around. You run a hand through his hand and tug his head back to be greeted with the sweet rumble of his laughter. You can’t help but giggle with him as you place soft kisses along the side of his neck.

Jungkook quietly moans in little whines and breathless gasps. Every shudder of his wings and furrow of his brows makes you want to rip your dress off and be just as naked and against him. But, then again, there’s something powerful to the taste of being fully clothed and still destroying a man’s composure. You barely have to do anything and Jungkook bends to your every will. You can now understand why he believes you’re so drunk on power, but the truth is you always had this power. He knows this, most likely wanting you to realize it too if he’s the one that suggested you stay clothed. The only difference now is that he’s openly displaying the ways you unravel him rather than keeping it to himself.

“Do you see what I mean now?” He asks in a breathless whisper. You trail your kiss up to his cheek and moan against it as he continues, “You’re so smart and beautiful and precious.”

Jungkook pauses, stilling your hips and pulling his face away from yours to look into your eyes. He parts his lips to speak but his words keep falling short somehow.

His words so far have already ignited an untamable fire not only between your legs, but within your bones as well. He is drenched in every part of you. Shifting to a softer touch, you untangle your fingers from his damp hair and cup his cheeks the same way he had done to you not too long ago. “Go on,” you tease, tossing him a playful look.

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk. His eyes, though hinted with amusement, continue to be lost in some sort of trance. He knows you’re curious, but keeps this little bit of thought to himself. Lifting your hips, he hovers your entrance over his erection and finally smirks.

“Beg a little,” he orders. Though his voice barely carries to the other side of the fountain, the authority in his tone is still as clear and hard as it always is.

Your power trip must have really messed with him if he’s having you beg without giving you a good reason to. An annoyed sigh fans against your collarbone as your body continues to hover over his. “Don’t play,” he rasps, “You know that’s not it. I can hear the truth before the lie, darling.”

That’s an unfair advantage but one you don’t mind too much if it means he talks to you like this all the time. He’s right too. You know that’s not what’s got him eager to hear you beg. It’s the way you beg that’s got him eager to fuck you. Clenching around emptiness, needy to be filled and ruined, you whine a tiny “please,” then a string of profanities as his tip strokes its way to your entrance from your clit.

“Again.”

Back arched, breasts against his bare chest, and hands clutched onto his biceps, you place your lips on the shell of his ear and blow a gentle breeze against it. “Please,” you mewl.

Jungkook’s hands tremble and he all but drops you on his cock. Pussy in an instant stretch, with very little room to adjust, you cry out in his ear. Though your voice may be broken and pitchy, Jungkook doesn’t flinch. When it comes to you, the usual results never qualify. You are one of a kind, as unique as him.

His muscles flex under your palms. Hands finding their place on your ass again, Jungkook guides your thrusts. He can practically feel your weakening body with every bounce and grind against him. You know he can. He shows it in every tightening grip on your ass and grunt in his moans.

The knot in your stomach is already twisting, conspiring against your better judgement on how long you think you can last. You’ve never been able to outlast him, cumming twice before he finally reaches his first orgasm of the night. He’s just so big and hits those right places way before the rest of him can catch up. How he manages to brush up against your softest spots within the first three thrusts will always be beyond your comprehension. He’s just that good.

The choked moan that leaves him resembles a chuckle. A frustrated whine escapes you. Is he still listening to your thoughts? It’s not like you’re thinking anything he already hasn’t heard you say, or rather scream, but it still somewhat embrassasses you to know that he will always hear how whipped you are for him.

“Tell me,” you plead with your lips pressed just under his ear. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

The sparkling water around you begins to splash out of the fountain bowl as Jungkook speeds up the pace of your bounces. Deciding your ass seems to be too much of a distraction to him, you pause mid-thrust and move his hands up to your hips. A shuddering gasp escapes him as you carry on with the bounces at his same pace. Your ass claps in and out of the water, thrashing water all around the ground.

Jungkook digs his short nails into the flesh of your hips, growling every time you whine at his tightening grip. Forehead against his, you catch his gaze and offer an innocent one. “I’m-” he cuts himself off, realizing how breathless and dazed he sounds. You nuzzle your face into his as a silent attempt to encourage him to continue. “Kiss me,” he begs.

If you weren’t stuffed full of his cock and extremely enchanted by the way he pretends to sound composed, you would’ve refused to kiss him and insisted that he finish that sentence. And that knot in the pit of your gut only tightens with the grip of your pussy. Pressing your lips against his, you slip your tongue in and let him swallow your moans.

The moment his tongue tackles yours, your legs quake. Thrusts hesitating, your body begins to spasm against his. Your hands grapple at his shoulder just to ensure you stay a float as your threatening orgasm continues to build.

“Jungk-” You break the kiss to tell him, to ask as he has taught you over and over again.

But Jungkook only latches his lips onto yours once more. You gulp down a moan or two of his before he hisses against your lips, “Just fucking cum. Now, kiss me.”

You may have been drunk off power not too long ago, but as you kiss him again, you realize that he is drunk off you. And that’s all it takes for your ograsm to finally rush over you. Jungkook lifts his hips up to meet your stuttering ones. Your lips fall off his. Face buried in the crook of his neck, you cry out his name and cream all over his cock.

“I’m thinking you’re such a good girl for cumming like this,” he suddenly whispers as you ride out your orgasm. Even with your ears ringing and mind shuddering from the second wave of cum gushing all over his hard, huge cock, you can still hear every dirty praise clearly. “My whore got herself off so well.”

The whine that escapes you from his words alone is borderline pornographic. Jungkook even feels it, arching his back so his chest collides with yours as well. “You’re so sexy,” he whimpers as you babble fountain water by his shoulder from exhaustion.

Wet, wet, wet; everything is wet. You’re both drenched in lube tinted waters, cum, and your desires. You can’t revel in it though, as the skirts of your dress float the surface and corset clings to your chest all too tightly. You can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone tell him that you need a quick break.

“No,” he groans, settling you on his thighs. Circling his hips into yours, Jungkook grips onto the nape of your neck to peel you off him.

Your heart stumbles as your mind races to figure out what you’ve done that was so wrong, he’s wanting to stop the night here. “I’m sorr-”

“You don’t need a break,” he sighs between moans. He sits himself up, his wings extending only to drape over the lip of the fountain’s bowl. All movements underwater cease as he digs his fingers into the bust of your corset. In one swift motion, Jungkook tears the first few laces apart, instantly sending a full batch of oxygen to your lungs.

Gasping, you gaze down at your torn dress before glaring at him. Maybe with just a wet dress, you could have explained your way out of whatever mess this is going to get you in when you attempt to return to the party. However, a torn dress will not be that easy to explain. You want to glare at him and tell him off but he shoves his face between your now exposed breasts and moans before you’re able to.

He moves your hands up his shoulders so your arms drape over them, then settles them on his favourite place; your ass. Two of his fingers push between your cheeks and stroke your hole. His touch there is much smoother than before and you suspect that it must be the bow-tipped lube.

You moan quietly, resting your chin atop his damp head as he kisses and bites at your breasts. Your pussy still hasn’t recovered from your orgasm seconds ago. In fact, truth be told, your entire body is having trouble recuperating after cumming that hard in a week. But you want more of him and he still hasn’t filled you of his godly load yet. And with his fingers circling around your asshole, you can’t deny him the second ride he’s patiently waiting for.

A slow grind of hips into hips is a good start, you tell yourself. You’ve never really had to deal with this before, since Jungkook would usually just keep pounding into you despite the fact that he knows your limbs are exhausted from one orgasm already. Clenching your jaw, you start to bounce again, ass clapping against his thighs in suppressed thumps underwater. The overstimulated pleasure brings tears to your eyes. You cry out his name and hold onto his wings.

He groans against your right breast from the contact. You’re about to apologize, knowing his wings are sensitive, when he shoves his fingers into your tightest hole. You freeze and throw your head back from how easily he slipped in and how fucking good it feels. Jungkook scissors his fingers within you, peeking a glance up from between your breasts.

“Are you okay, baby?” he slurs. He licks up the valley of your breasts, holding your gaze shamelessly.

“Mhm,” you mewl.

Resuming your thrusts, you feel your tears run down your face freely. You don’t even have it in you to wipe them away. Your hands, instead, centre around his back. You scratch at it for a bit until you feel him add a finger. Moans tumble into his wet hair as your fingers trail up the length of his spine.

Jungkook stiffens. A choked groan tears from his throat and he hides his face further into your breasts. They bounce around his cheeks with each hop on his cock. Too consumed by your own overstimulated pleasure to dwell much thought on his movements, or lack thereof, you mindlessly repeat the action. You stroke his spine once more and then you hear it.

He sobs a moan.

You still your hips, looking down at him. As you run a hand through his hair, you’re about to ask if he’s okay when the whooshing flutter of wings obscures your vision. One second, you’re straddling his lap with his fingers in your ass. The next, you’re the one submerged in the water with him hovering over you. Wings fully extended, face stained with tears, Jungkook makes sure your arms are resting over his shoulders like before then takes up a deadly speed of thrusts into you.

His speed defies the laws of physics, hips moving much faster than they should underwater. Half the fountain is on the ground from the force of his movement. All you can do is sob with him as your body becomes his only source of pleasure.

What’s gotten into him? He doesn’t even have an interest in your ass anymore, hands locked in a death-like grip on your hips. In a moment of pure animalistic pleasure, you just wish you knew what’s running through his head.

“You,” he growls in a pout. “You’re all I think about, you fucking whore. You’re all I can ever think about.” He swallows thickly before continuing, “You can’t go one second without thinking of me and now all I can hear is your voice. All the time; it’s you, you, you.”

You don’t know if you should apologize or cum from the simple confession alone. His voice, his words, his entire fucking attitude has you aching to cum all over again.

Jungkook stumbles over his chuckles. “You just love seeing me like this, huh? You love seeing me worship you, baby?”

Worship. Does he want you to cum that badly that he’s willing to lie? You both know he doesn’t worshi-

A sharp thrust derails your thoughts. Your eyes roll back as you moan out his name.

“You’re my goddess,” he confesses. “You’re my only goddess.”

He repeats the phrase over and over again until that’s all that rings in your ear, in your heart, in your soul. His release paints your tightening walls. The knots within your gut have unraveled long ago and it’s only when your blurred vision somewhat clears and convulsing body trickles into tremors do you realize that you’ve both cum together to the words he’s still repeating.

Voice a tiny, gruff whisper, Jungkook whispers, “My goddess.”

He’s serious. He must be. He truly worships you. The tears in his eyes, the break in his voice, the truth is clear and just as starkly bare as he is between your legs. His eyes suddenly flash with worry, almost as if he’s recognized what he’s said. He meant what he said, you realize, but he never meant to say it.

Jungkook gingerly pulls out of you as you try to seat yourself up. You pull your legs into your chest and watch him take a seat beside you. He leans his head back against the rim of the fountain and gazes up at the sky. You follow his gaze, noticing it’s gotten much darker out, the silver stream of stars piercing an indigo backdrop no more. A midnight black cloaks the world above you, a crescent moon lighting up your night and an array of stars twinkling down at you. Though your mind is still foggy from your recent orgasms, body still shuddering, you can’t help but think about his words. What makes him think you belong up there, amongst true gods and goddesses?

His wings twitch as they tuck themselves behind him. You know that combination well. He’s hiding something. Usually, you don’t ask, knowing he will only deflect the topic and shower you with attention and praises instead. But, his spoken thoughts are now looping around your mind, begging to be answered.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, shifting closer to him. Face still stained with tears, he forces himself to look at you. The questions are on the tip of your tongue; what, why, when? However, as you part your lips all you can bring yourself to say is, “I didn’t hear anything.”

You’re my goddess.

The words return with ten times the force they previously held. It’s almost like denying their existence is just as blasphemous as saying them. You swallow thickly and try to extract the words from your mind, but it's too late. They are as entrenched in your bones as your affection for him is. There is no undoing what has been done.

You bring a hand up to his face and wipe away the stray tears. He melts into you almost immediately. Maybe it’s best if you return to the party now. You can make up some excuse as to why you’re drenched and torn on your way there. Jungkook’s state is all but worrying and you feel as though you shouldn’t be witnessing this.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he finally says. His voice has regained composure and tone controlled. No more does he choke on his words or laughter. The authority he indirectly bestowed upon you has been returned to him.

You should tell him you’re done, that he shouldn’t say things he doesn’t mean to. You should tell him that he shouldn’t play with your feelings or your heart like this. But, again, the words wither away the moment you part your lips to voice them. And, instead, you ask, “How do you want me?”

Jungkook smirks. His hands snake around your hips and lift you up onto his lap. Back to his chest, you make yourself comfortable, leaning into him. He pushes the excess fabric of your dress aside just to get you as close as possible. Then, you feel it against your ass, pushing its way between your cheeks. His erection is just as hard as when you started. It’s no wonder why he’s not done with you yet. You suppose he didn’t just confess something he can’t take back only to still leave with a full hard-on.

“I thought you didn’t hear anything,” he whispers in your ear as his hands cup the underside of your thighs.

You nervously look at him over your shoulder. “I didn’t.”

He chews on your earlobe, warm tongue caressing your jaw. “I should stop thinking about it,” he whimpers against your skin. “I should stop thinking about you.”

I’m not a goddess, you want to tell him. But, by the way he sucks in a sharp breath, you can tell he’s heard and isn’t impressed. He opens his mouth to say something, maybe to scold you for degrading yourself, or to correct you. The words never arrive.

Jungkook shakily exhales. No more trips into his thoughts it would seem. He remains silent as he spreads your legs and swiftly lifts you up. You expect another harsh round into your pussy but his tip shoves its way through your asshole instead. Throwing your head back, you try to suppress your scream by holding your breath.

It doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does during the first initial thrust of a toy. Whatever he tinted the water with must be the result of a smooth entrance, and a deliciously blissful stretch. You let out a breath you held, along with a loud, high-pitched squeal. Jungkook folds you up well, holding the bend of each knee into your chest as he continues to slowly lower you onto him.

Once you finally take him all in, you settle your entire body back into him. Shuddering breaths, drifting eyes, you hold him deep within you and try not to completely lose yourself in a fit of moans and pleads. You don’t even know what you’d be begging for, just that a string of “pleases” will leave you.

Are you getting bigger, you mentally ask.

He chuckles and shakes his head as his nose nuzzles into your cheeks. He can’t get enough. Inhaling you deeply, you realize that he can’t get enough of you. He even said so in so many words. And you don’t have much of a problem with that considering you can’t ever get enough of him either. You’ve consumed all of his thoughts it would seem and he’s even lost himself to you so much so that he’s declared you his one and only god-

“Fuck!”

The stream of the fountain rushes down on your clit. He holds you straight beneath it as his hips move up and down against your ass. You’re at his total mercy, every thought of ever being in control a complete joke. You rest your head against his shoulders, trembling hands placed over his as a desperate attempt to control yourself.

Your first water wave induced orgasm hits you within seconds. You don’t know for sure, but you’re all but certain that you’re cumming. Your eyes have been screwed shut for a while, and body shaking since this endeavor in the fountain began. Only when you try to close your legs do you confirm that you indeed came.

Jungkook keeps them open though. He ignores your pathetic scratches on his knuckles as you try to explain to him that it’s all just too fucking much for you to take. “Just let me cum,” he tries to soothe between little hushes and murmurs about how good you’re taking his cock.

But then your second orgasm from the fountain hits and you can’t stop squirming in his hold. He keeps you folded and under the water’s subjection nonetheless, somehow even cooling the temperature down. As you shiver under the cold rush, Jungkook positions you higher against him so that the water pours into you instead. You realize, pussy clean of his cum now, that you’re getting fucked by a fountain; a fountain that he controls. And you fucking love it.

Then, there’s the fullness of your ass. Every inch of you is his. If you’re his goddess, he must know that he’s your god. Your one and only.

“Careful,” he warns against your thoughts.

You have an assful of his cock in you, getting off more times than you can both count in a fountain that does not belong to either of you; when have the two of you ever been careful? In fact, your recklessness is what brought you together. Had he not seen you on your balcony every night, he might not be here at all. Carelessness runs in your veins, laced in your tone as you cry out, “You’re my god!”

The clouds rumble above you. The heavens can warn all they want. Interrupting sexual endeavors would do them more harm than it would do you.

“If you want to cum, you’ll behave,” Jungkook hisses. His thrusts suddenly snap into something primal.

Your body bounces every time, water rushing down your clit once more. This time you feel your orgasm build, and fast. Toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, you hold onto every twisting, clenching knot at the pit of your stomach.

“Ask!”

“Please?”

A particular ram into your ass lets you know that half-hearted plea won’t get you very far. He doesn’t deign to repeat himself. Instead, he lets his harsh movements and bone-rattling growls speak for him.

“Please let me cum, Jungkook, please.”

“Again.”

“Please, please, please, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t say it. But you feel it. You feel the approval in the form of a gentle kiss against your ear. Hips a craze, rolling against the wave, you clench your jaw and try to channel all your pleasure in a high-pitched moan rather than the cry your lungs are desperate to let out. Your cum gushes then, juices squirt seconds later. Entire body on fire, under the scrutiny of the stream as you try and fail to recollect yourself. You’re shattered, ruined, obliterated by his cock and this fountain of fantasies.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “That’s my good girl.”

His. His. Gods, the things you would do to be his always, not just under the cover of the night. Jungkook releases your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist as he grounds your ass over his hips. Load after load shoots within you, making your giggle and shake with ecstasy at the filling sensation of being stuffed so well.

“Ah-yah, baby,” he groans in a scowl against your jawline. “You’ve got the tightest little hole for me, hmm? If you weren’t so exhausted, I’d have us do this all over again.”

Exhaustion. Yes, that’s what you’re feeling. With your mind foggy and broken from the countless orgasms he’s sent through you, you can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone think to go for another round. Your body’s only excuse for staying afloat is the winged god behind you. He clutches onto you as if his only reason for surviving is you. And judging by his previous confession, that very well might be the case.

Jungkook rests back against the fountain’s edge once he’s done. Gasping for air, he continues to hold onto you, kissing your shoulder mindlessly. “I never really know how much I miss you until I have you,” he whispers. His teeth graze your supple skin.

Body limp, you can’t find it in you to reply. All you can think is after he pulls out, he’s going to fly back to Gods know where and leave you to hobble back to the party alone. After all, isn’t that how every night ends? You two share a passionate few moments, both have out of body experiences when orgasming, then you fall asleep and he sneaks away. What’s to say this night won’t be any different?

“I thought I told you to trust me?”

“I do.”

He scoffs. You don’t blame him. Your words are hardly convincing. It has nothing to do with the fact that you just came five or six different times. It’s the lack of commitment in your tone that tips him off. You hear it too. You really do trust him. He’s just let you down too many times to count.

“What more do I need to do? I’m with you every chance I get.”

Exhaustion. It’s not a physical one, not the one you’re still recovering from. It’s one of the mind. He’s exhausted with this back and forth. You are too. This isn’t exactly what you thought your first relationship would look like.

He pauses, body freezing beneath you.

Oh, right. He’s in your mind. He heard that. Is that not what this is, though? Isn’t this a relationship?

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it,” You repeat, looking at him over your shoulder.

Jungkook starts to soften in you. You’ve really set him off now. He lifts you up and off his cock, sitting you on his thigh and ignoring the way you hiss and whine at the discomfort. You turn to glare at him over your shoulder only to find him already glaring at you.

“Do you want me to come back?”

Is he threatening you? “Do I have to remind you who came here begging-”

“You lied!” He cuts you off with a shout.

“You knew that, though. You knew I was lying,” you point out, a pout starting to overtake your features. “You came because you missed me.”

“That’s never been a secret.”

“Say it then, Jungkook. Say this is a relationship.”

He falls silent. His once annoyed eyes can’t even meet yours.

“I know you’re jealous of Lee Ky-”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffs. Shaking his head, he forces himself to meet your gaze.

Sad tears vary drastically from blissful ones. Tears of bliss soothe the pleasure and make it bearable. Tears of sadness sting your eyes, pierce your heart and shed any part of you that can make such a situation bearable. Sad tears only remind you of your pain.

Your eyes sting with despair as he regards you with such frustration. Emptying your mind, discarding all thoughts, you ask, “Are you coming tomorrow?”

Jungkook sighs, but not a beat of hesitance affects his answer. “Of course.”

You raise a brow. See?

“Fine. This is a relationship,” he mutters. “What does that change?”

Nothing. It hasn’t changed a thing. You don’t even feel any different, any better. Maybe it’s because you forced it out of him? You don’t know. The tears only fall faster though, and you can’t bear to look at him. Your heart’s conflicted, shattered and replaced all at once because, though he is the cause of your tears, his presence is also the only thing soothing them. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your temple over his.

You can at least relish in his company for a few moments longer. And his scent, that intoxicating waft of creamy coconut and sweet peony orchards returns now that all that mud and grime has been washed off. The scent is comforting enough for you to relax in his arms and forget your pain for a second.

“That’s not what I smell like,” he whispers. You tilt your head away to get a better look at him. A little smirk tugs on the corner of his lip as he says, “It’s what you smell like.”

Impossible. He’s always smelled like at the end of every night. You’d cuddle into his chest and inhale a breathful of the tropical scent. How could that be what you smell like if he reeks of it? The knowing look in his eyes is enough of a hint for you to realize you know the answer. He’s dripping with your essence every night because he spent the night in you. You wonder if you smell like him too.

He sighs, circling his arms lazily around your waist. He deeply inhales your skin, smiling against it, but doesn’t answer your mentally posed question. Damp hair clinging to the sides of your faces, you settle in the other’s company. One of his hands rises from the water and wipes away your tears. As you sniffle, he whispers, “I promise I’m-”

“Doing the best you can,” you croak, finishing his sentence with him.

Yes, yes. You’ve heard it all before. You don’t think he’s lying, your Eros is no liar. You do believe that he is, in fact, doing the best he can. But if his best is only a few hours every night, you’re not sure you can accept that. And, yet, you also can’t find it in you to truly, with all your heart, reject it as well.

He needs to prove his devotion to you in another way. A risky thought then tiptoes into your mind. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you take a deep breath and ask, “Could you do me a tiny favour?”

Jungkook’s hesitant to meet your gaze. He glances at you through his peripherals, otherwise keeping his gaze locked on your breasts. Whether he’s trying to distract himself or not, you still push them out a bit in hopes that they will grant you the “yes” you’re hoping to hear.

He nods.

With a little kiss upon his cheek, you stroke his shoulder with the soft tips of your fingers and ask, “Would you please escort me to my sister’s wedding?”

He turns his head away from you. Staring across at the other side of the garden, Jungkook withdraws from you. His hands fall off your frame as he heavily sighs. You press yourself against him, trying to regain his attention but he only shakes his head.

“Acting cute won’t make this any easier,” he grumbles.

You huff and slouch against him. “How about just the rehearsal dinner?” You try to negotiate. When he rolls his eyes, you quickly add, “I’ll be stuck with Kyon and honestly I don’t think I handle another minute of his incorrect reilieration about history.”

Jungkook snaps his head towards you at the mention of another man. You cock a brow to which he only scoffs at. “You’re being obnoxious,” he seethes. “And unbelievably selfish.”

“So?” you question before you can stop yourself. His words sting, slicing through your confidence all too easily. There isn’t much room for thinking and even if there was, he would be listening to them anyways. So, you might as well say what you want out loud. “Was it not selfish of you to make me wait-”

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m not going to repeat myself, (Y/N). You can’t keep telling me that you trust me only to keep bringing this up. I was busy. You had to wait. It didn’t kill you.”

Your tears have returned. He rolls his eyes at the sight. Whatever remnants of your heart you thought you had has been obliviated. “You make me feel so loved,” you whisper as your hands retract from his body.

Jungkook’s expression disarms all hostility. His eyes reflect regret but you’ve heard, seen all you need to.

“But why do you only make me feel this way when we’re naked?”

“You’re not naked,” he’s quick to reply.

It’s your turn to scoff. How can a god be this dense? “Aren’t I, though? Tell me, Jeon Jungkook, whose thoughts are open for the other to hear? Who is the one waiting, praying for the other’s attention? Who has been bare since first glance on the stupid balcony you left last night?”

Before he couldn’t meet your eye out of disinterest, but now he avoids your gaze out of guilt. Yes, you’ve been obnoxious, selfish, maybe even a little entitled. However, you’ve had a god to yourself for months. You’ve had endless moments of ecstasy that only end in soft cuddles and whispered sweet nothings into the night. Is wanting that attention when the sun hasn’t set yet too much to ask?

Jungkook parts his lips to reply when his eyes suddenly shoot up. He sits up, almost knocking you off his lap and snaps his head towards the very pathway you came from.

“(Y/N)!”

You gasp upon hearing your mother’s voice. The clicks of her heels draw further towards you and before you can look at Jungkook and ask what you should do, what you should say, you’re thrown into the fountain.

Ice cold waves engulf you as you inhale a good chunk of the fountain. Your lungs burn from the accidental intake of water. You only just get your hands under you and sit yourself up and out of the water as quickly as you can. Familiar shouts ring in the distance. Coughing up the fountain, you push your hair back and look around the garden.

Your mother is staring at you in utter shock, screaming at you to come out but refusing to help you herself. As you try to lift yourself up, you find the water has returned to its usual clarity and that Jungkook is nowhere to be found. He seriously left you to almost drown in the fountain by yourself? He’d be lucky to get more than a kiss from your tomorrow night. You can’t believe he has the audacity to yell at you then let you there like that. In a fit of anger, you send a lashing string after lashing string of profanities to him in the form of a prayer.

“Miss (L/N)!”

Your blood chills. Hands on the lip of the fountain, you turn towards his voice. Fully dressed in a dark blue suit, his wings nowhere to be found, and dry hair pulled back a neat ponytail, Jungkook rushes over to you. His strong hands settle on your waist before he effortlessly scoops you out.

All you can do is stare. Mouth agape, eyes vacant, you try to figure out why the hell he made himself all presentable and left you looking like a mess. You want to whisper your profanities and swear that he will never touch your ass for leaving you in such a mess, but all you can find yourself saying is, “Mr. Jeon.”

His eyes shoot to the sky as your mother rushes towards you. Nothing is making sense and you only wish you can read his mind to know what to do next.

“Goodness, (Y/N),” your mother hisses as she rushes towards you. “Cover yourself!”

Looking down at your bust, you gasp. Oh, right, he tore it. Crossing your arms over your chest, you look up at him and glare. But Jungkook only takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. It’s only when you feel your mother’s arms around you do you realize that you’re shivering.

“What have you done to yourself now?” she whispers in your ear.

Her eyes then settle on Jungkook. That look graces her face. That look of assessment. She’s scanning the unknown god up and down, looking for signs of wealth, status, and reliability. It doesn’t take her long to innocently smile and fall victim to his beauty, “Thank you kindly, Mr. Jeon.”

He bows his head then turns to you and says, “I told you not to sit on the edge.” Jungkook fakes a polished chuckle. He shakes his head at you when your eyes narrow at him. “I told her, Mrs. (L/N), I told her the marble is slippery. But, Miss (L/N) just had to get a better look at those flowers.”

You glance back at the fountain with your mother, finding an array of tiger lilies floating in the bowl. All this trouble to explain why you’re wet? You look back at him cautiously and wonder what the end of this conversation is meant to look like.

“Yes, she loves flowers,” your mother sighs. She then sets her sights on Jungkook once more and asks, “Jeon… I’m not sure I know of the Jeons. Are you from out of town?”

Jungkook charms your mother instantly with that kind, toothy smile of his. He nods and compliments her quick wits, to which she laughs, then explains, “I’m visiting for the wedding.”

The wedding? Does that mean?

“Miss (L/N) invited me. I’m rather glad to have run into you, Mrs. (L/N) as I was hoping to ask permission to escort your daughter to the wedding.”

One of your hands, previously covering your right breast, shoots up to cover your mouth out of utter shock. Did he orchestrate all this just to agree to your favour? You hope you haven’t guilted him into it. You’ve done that to get him here and admit to your relationship; you already regret doing that. You just hope he’s acting on his own accord right now.

Jungkook shoots you a wink as your mother fixes the jacket so that your uncovered breast is concealed once more. Sighing of relief, you offer him a grateful smile.

“Are you sure?” Your mother suddenly asks, looking back to Jungkook. “(Y/N) is the one you want to escort?”

He glances at you and smiles. “Miss (L/N) the one and only thing I’m always sure about.”

Your mother raises a brow at you. She smells something fishy, knows something is off about this entire encounter. You watch her carefully as she looks between you and Jungkook. And when you expect her to refuse, to lecture you in front of him, your mother adopts an opposite approach. She smiles upon the two of you and shifts you closer to Jungkook.

“I would be delighted to have you escort my daughter, Mr. Jeon,” she beams. “Do you mind walking (Y/N) to the carriages? I cannot let her go back and drip all over the Barbury’s rugs.”

Jungkook offers you his elbow, returning your mother’s smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

You stumble towards Jungkook, your mother practically pushing you into him. With a shaky hand, you take his arm and let him guide you out of the maze. After a turn or two within the tall hedges, you part your lips to ask him what he thinks he’s doing.

However, Jungkook fills the silence before you can. “I’ll buy you an entire bouquet of lilies, darling. Just promise me to never fall into a fountain again,” he laughs, exaggerating the volume of his voice.

This time, you pick up on his hints and realize that your mother must still be close by if he’s still putting up such an act. “I promise it won’t happen again, Mr. Jeon,” you innocently reply.

A smirk, you know is real, graces his features. He walks you around the manor and to the front of the house before breaking out of this noble character of his. “I think she bought it. Your mother is a very suspicious woman.”

You scoff. “That’s just one of many titles she holds,” you mumble under your breath. As you walk towards your family’s carriage, you can’t help but ask, “Why did you do that?”

Jungkook stops you before the door and takes both your hands in his. Those amused eyes linger around your exposed breasts. He chuckles a bit at the way you arch your back to keep them there, making you giggle along with him.

“Are you happy?”

You pause. Is that why he did this? To make you happy?

“Are you?”

He gives you a pointed look. “Answer the question, (Y/N).”

“Are you just doing this to make me happy, Jungkook?” You ask instead. “Because I will go back to her and tell her that we were both in that fountain and-”

“So what if I am?” He cuts you off. “I want you to be happy, (Y/N). Why is that so wrong?”

It’s not. There’s nothing wrong with him wanting you to be happy. But you want him to be happy with his decision. You’ve forced him into admitting things and meeting you. You don’t want to force him into this too. You want him to want to take you, to want to be with you. That is what true happiness is to you. It’s Jungkook unconditionally wanting you the way you unconditionally want him.

Jungkook cups your face. Leaning his forehead against yours, he whispers, “I’m sorry I make you think I don’t want you just as much as you want me.” His nose brushes against yours, hitching your breath as he presses himself against you and continues in a breathy whisper, “Watching you cry breaks me in ways I can’t describe. And being the reason for your tears just destroys me, (Y/N). I’ll do anything to see you smile again.”

Then, he presses his lips upon yours, reaching for the carriage door behind you. When he pulls away, he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, ushering you into your seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, baby,” he smiles.

You’ve misjudged him for the third time tonight. Thinking he doesn’t care for you, thinking he left you, and thinking he doesn’t want you. All you can do now is pray that he forgives you for all the curses you’ve hurled his way.

He chuckles and places kisses on both your hands. “It was very amusing actually.”

You nod. “I’m sure.” But, you’re still sorry.

With one last round of kisses over your knuckles, Jungkook promises, “I won’t be late.”

“I’ll be waiting regardless,” you immediately reply.

The next three words are on the tip of your tongue. He can almost hear them, judging by the twitch of his brows. You don’t have a chance to say them though as he clears his throat and shuts the door. You watch him from the window, shakily exhaling.

Jungkook calls the coachmen. The carriage jerks forward. The lasting image of his smirk, those sweet eyes and that muscular frame is all you try to see. However, in seconds, he’s pulled from view. The only memory you have of him remains with that sacrilegious confession in a fountain of fantasies.

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