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discodeviant · 2 years ago

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One Swing, Just One Thing

Jonathan/Argyle | Teen | 3k No Upside Down, Light Angst

My take on the Cali move in the little Disco-verse I have in my head lol, please enjoy <3 <3

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There were a devastating number of things that Jonathan hated about Hawkins, not limited to its inseparable school boards and suffocating, tight-knit groups. The summers were disappointing at best, and still fucking cold at worst; winters bit at his nose and fingertips so harshly that he thought they’d fall right off. Hawkins was the town that molded his father into the crass, neglectful man that he was, and even he was scared off some years ago. On a whim, maybe, but Jonathan always suspected that he’d never loved their family in the first place. Joyce was too forgiving; Will was too young to know better than to think Lonnie’s disappearance was personal. Not that he went very far—only fifty minutes to Indianapolis—but it felt like he was across the ocean in a different world entirely. Jonathan hated that Hawkins had been breaking his mother to pieces ever since.

The time between then and now was a long, dull three years of absolutely nothing with some excitement sprinkled on top like glitter. Lonnie broke the divorce contract and took Will into the city for a week in eighty-two, which rendered the already-quiet kid fully mute for two months. In eighty-three, Jonathan won a fight against Steve Harrington in a back alley somewhere, which he still thought may have been a fever dream. Every punch and bruise left behind led to Nancy Wheeler leaving Steve for Jonathan in eighty-four and loving him until the summer of eighty-five, when college applications rolled around and pried them apart.

Somewhere in between, Joyce married Jim Hopper, whose daughter could move twenty times her weight with her mind, but those were details Jonathan didn’t like to think about.

California was on the horizon by July, and the five of them were driving into Lenora Hills in early August. Hopper said it wasn’t dirty money when it came from the source, but Jonathan was still wary of the whole thing. Hawkins was terrible, but it was home for eighteen years. It was familiar. It was where he taught Will how to ride a bike, and where he took his mother’s new wedding photos during the not-ceremony they held in front of Castle Byers. Just Will’s friends and their parents, Steve and Nancy somehow, and that was all they needed. Hawkins was every waking moment of Jonathan’s life, gone in a flash—it felt that way when he started school again.

Hawkins wasn’t creative with name-calling either. Freak was thrown around for both Byers boys, and another kid in some of Jonathan’s classes. Fuck up when the tapes he had for a middle school play were sabotaged and left for him to take the blame. Fairy caught on after Harrington called him a queer in front of Tommy Hagan (that was before Jonathan kicked his ass), and it hit a little too deep, that one. Lonnie used to say that about Will when he was around. Freak and fag and fairy and good-for-nothing fruit—F-words haunted him.

In California, though, Jonathan was little more than a ghost, and he was happy to keep it that way. He didn’t draw attention to himself or talk to anyone outside of class, and even then he stuck to his desk mates, but he was a good kid. Kind, soft-spoken like his brother, always carrying that damn camera with him so he didn’t miss anything. Californian kids weren’t as cruel as those from small-town Indiana, but they still stared. If they whispered, it was out of range. He could deal with that.

Shop class was what really threw him for a loop.

Back home, he realized that there were two types of guys who took shop: those who were interested in trade and chose to be there, and those who were put into it because they weren’t that great at anything else. Jonathan was in the former group since hands-on work was easier for him to get a handle on, and he never dreamt of going to some fancy university with top-dog academics. That was Nancy’s dream. His was simple and steady like a saw cutting through slabs of pine and the hinges holding them together. His was the freedom of choosing what wood stain to use between burned lines in the surface of a three-panel table. His was photography, in truth, but carpentry was a good fallback.

Jonathan wasn’t sure what to make of his project partner. Which kind of guy Argyle was, he really couldn’t say. On the one hand, he had a fantastic eye for measurements and made perfect cuts nearly every time, and his eyes lit up when their teacher complimented his work. He was fast too, never wasting a moment in between getting instructions and following them. On the other hand, he spoke like he was deep in outer space, and maybe he was. Argyle epitomized the doped-out beach boy with the attention span of a fruit fly in most other classes, from what Jonathan could tell. Maybe that was why he glanced in Argyle’s direction whenever he could, just for a split second of those long, long locks or proof that it was all an act. Not that he would understand why, but Argyle was a distant interest until they were told to work on a porch swing together, and he was suddenly much closer.

“Hey, so, uh… how big are we gonna make this thing?” Jonathan asked as Argyle fiddled with his pencil eraser. They sat at a table in the back, bags and papers splayed out alongside a few wooden beams that they reserved in advance. “Like… one, two people?”

Argyle looked up and nodded in thought. “Two’s cool. Or… I guess we could make it for one really big person. Or three small people.” His words sounded like they came from the long distance his eyes stared off into. Through Jonathan somehow, if that was even possible. It made him a little wary.

“Yeah, sure.”

Jonathan gazed around the room to fill the silence with something else. Other students’ chatter and sawing, hammers swinging already, a buzzsaw that went off for a few seconds. Between the boys, it was agonizing, and they mostly worked through gestures and mumbled project plans.

Throughout the week, they eased into a better conversation flow. They passed along hellos through glances in other classes, then said their heys when they made it to shop. Jonathan found himself lingering on those smiles until the next came along, and then he added that one to his mental collection. A portfolio, of sorts, of the times those smiles were accompanied by a wave or enthusiastic nod. All the while, their swing was making progress, and Argyle proved his skillful hand so much that he did most of the hard parts himself. Jonathan had fun watching.

After that weekend, they decided that Jonathan would be in charge of its more intricate designs, which he was happy to focus on. Drawing out ideas in pencil on the wood, taking Argyle’s sketches into account. And like he watched Argyle, Argyle watched him right back with intense focus. Whether the whites of his eyes were red or not, he was meticulous when filling in the lines with Gunsmoke—an orange stain they used around the edges. Once all was said and done, the swing was sanded and lathered in wax coating, and they were the first pair to finish.

“That’s one bangin’ bench, if I do say so myself.” Argyle stood with both hands on his hips, licking at his teeth as he ogled their final project. “Good work, my man.” The clap on Jonathan’s back startled him a little.

“You too, you too.”

“Hey, do you think you could help me get it out to my car later?”

“You’re taking it?”

“Yeah, man, Teach said I could. I got sisters, they’re gonna love this thing. We used to have one, but it was all grody and, like, just fell apart one day, so. Set it up there, I guess. You can come by if you want.”

“I—I don’t know—I gotta work on my paper.” Jonathan only noticed his palms were sweaty when he rubbed them down his thighs and stained the denim.

“Do it at mine, man. It’s quiet when the girls are doin’ their thing, and we can get free pizza.”

“Free pizza?” Jonathan asked, but Argyle just gave him a look that hooked and reeled like he didn’t give the line any trouble at all. “What the hell, why not.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Argyle clapped his hands together and rubbed them so fast that an ember should have sparked and burned the place down, but maybe that was Jonathan’s nerves thinking too quickly. Before he knew it, Argyle was packing his things and walking out backwards with a pair of finger-guns pointed at him. “You and me, Byers!”

The bell rang soon after.

“A pizza van?”

“Yeah, man! Life’s way easier when I can just throw shit in the back. Plus, my manager says it’s good advertising, and I’m inclined to agree. Come on, let’s get her in there.”

They’d waited for the school crowd to pile out before carrying the swing to the end of the parking lot, where Jonathan’s earlier question was answered. With the van’s boot open, they hoisted the swing up and into the back with little struggle—which was mostly Argyle’s doing—and walked to sit up front together after closing it.

“What toppings do you like?” Argyle asked as he backed out.

“Uh… anything I guess. I’m not picky.”

“Pineapple?”

Jonathan grimaced. “Never had it.”

“Try before you deny, my friend.”

And, well, Jonathan couldn’t argue with that for a number of reasons.

Pizza first, home second—that was their order of operations, though they decided to take the food to-go instead of sitting in a loud parlor teeming with children. Jonathan paid for a sub in case he hated the pizza, which Argyle laughed at him for. Not maliciously; Jonathan was pretty sure he didn’t have a cruel bone in his body. He was too carefree for that, too laid back, too genuine. So far, anyway, and Jonathan knew he needed a friend like him even if it was too soon to say they were friends just yet. Unless it wasn’t. He didn’t know.

Friends had come and gone, and stayed gone more often than not. Will and his mom were the only two constants for so long. His middle and high school friends were temporary, Nancy was temporary, Hopper and El might have been temporary for all he knew by that point. But that was Hawkins, where he’d been a freak for sitting in the cafeteria corner even when he got there first. That was Hawkins High, where people still talked about his brother like he’d died and come back to life even though he was only gone for a week. Those people weren’t supposed to be friends to begin with, and Jonathan didn’t try to make them friends.

But this was Lenora Hills, sitting in Argyle’s pizza van that may not have been his at all, and he was so California—so unlike Indiana—that Jonathan couldn’t help smiling.

As they pulled up to the house, he asked, “Did you grow up here?”

“Born and raised, man.” Argyle said so with pride that Jonathan could only dream of. “Closer to San Jose, actually, but it’s the same shit everywhere.” He laughed, and they stepped out. “Where’d you get swept up from? Not the city.” Boot open; Argyle pulled the swing out for Jonathan to catch the end.

“No, no,” he said. “Hawkins. It was sorta close to the city, but far-fucking-from it in every other way.”

“Where’s that, Utah?” Argyle held the other end, and they walked up the grass to where a couple of A-frames were set up with a beam joining the vertices.

Jonathan chuckled. “Indiana.”

“Oh, shit, you’re like… from way-fuckin’-out there, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess. Not that exciting. At least I’ve heard of San Jose.”

“Not missing out there either, dude, but, I don’t know, maybe I was just used to it.” They set the swing down. “Green grass or some crap, whatever shit they talk about. Anyway, lemme close the van, then, uh… we’ll go in and eat. Or we can eat out here, whatever.”

Jonathan shrugged and said, “Doesn’t matter to me. I’ll grab your bag for you.” Argyle didn’t protest and brought in the pizza while Jonathan had one bag slung over each shoulder. That said, Argyle’s was more of a sack, but it fit everything he needed.

“I gotta get a new one soon,” he said as they walked into the warmth of a well-lived-in home. Something about it reminded Jonathan of the house in Hawkins. Small but cozy and littered with half-filled coloring pages, toys on the floor, a bottle of glitter tipped over on a shelf. It smelled like honey and spice wrapped into a billowing fire, but that was in the walls and rugs on the floor. That was Argyle.

A TV sat on the coffee table in the living room, which merged with the kitchen so Argyle could turn it on while he got a couple of plates out. “Take a seat, man, my couch is your couch. And, lucky for us, it seems we’ve got the house to ourselves for another couple hours at least, so no noisy children to deal with.”

“Where is everybody?”

“Uh… today’s Friday?” Jonathan nodded. “Dad’s workin’ late, so they’re with abuela for the night. She’s up, uh—near that lake up there.”

“That’s cool.”

“Anyway…” Argyle carried the pizza box to the couch with a plate on top for each of them. Jonathan had already put their drinks on the table. “Bon appétit, my dude,” he said, holding up his slice of Hawaiian, an invitation for a toast. Jonathan met it with his own and sunk his teeth in, expecting the worst, but he was pleasantly surprised. “See?”

They both said in unison, “Try before you deny.”

“Jesus, that’s fucking good.”

“Thank those Hawaiians, man.”

“Ugh—thank you, Hawaiians—mm…”

A short while after letting their food settle, the guys went back outside to set up the swing before it got too dark. Argyle had some chains that he hooked through the arms and base before hanging it with Jonathan’s help. He didn’t do much, but it was enough to earn a high-five anyway, so he took it in stride. When they were done, they sat on it together, both just fitting so their knees touched, but it was comfortable. Jonathan was comfortable.

“You know, I’m not gonna lie to you, man, this thing could use some throw pillows,” Argyle said.

“You got any?”

“Yeaaaah, but I don’t feel like going back inside yet, so. Later.” Jonathan ate from a bag of gummy worms. “You smoke?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. You go ahead, I don’t mind. My parents are both chimneys.”

So Argyle fished around in his pocket and pulled out a smoke that was a little worse for wear, from what Jonathan could tell, but it had probably been in there all day. “You got this stuff back home, country boy?” Jonathan looked more closely at it and suddenly understood.

“Oh.”

Argyle laughed. “Is that a no?”

“No, no, I mean, we do, just… only had it a couple times. Plus, like, my mom married a cop. Literally the chief.”

“No shit! Oh, dude, you’re missing out big time.”

“I don’t know, it wasn’t that good.”

“Byers, my man… this is the real shit. Good shit. Purple Palm Tree Delight. Well worth the pennies.”

“Purple Palm Tree Delight.”

“Yessiree.” A lighter was next. Argyle flipped it open and lit the joint between his lips, Jonathan watching with a sudden draw to the smoke leaving his mouth. “You’ll like it.”

Jonathan hesitated for a moment before taking it from between Argyle’s fingers, strong and dirty from the swing work but still so tempting to touch. “One drag,” he said. It occurred to him briefly, when he put it in his mouth and took a shallow huff, that he might have been called a fairy for this too if he were back in middle school.

Side-by-side, closer to a guy than either seemed to realize as he held his lips around something that another man’s lips had already touched. Maybe Jonathan was being childish to think that they’d just kissed. Lips to joint to lips again, his one puff turned into two, then three, then an equal share as he and Argyle passed it between each other. Argyle’s lips were red by the time it was down to a nub of embers that he snuffed with dirty fingertips and dropped into the grass.

Maybe it was naive to be glad that he was in California, sitting on a swing in his new friend’s backyard—who, yes, now, Jonathan could be sure was his friend. He knew this never could have happened in Hawkins. Not the peaceful silence as the final few minutes of sunlight disappeared, not the violet-tinted delight rolling through his arms and legs and brain. Certainly not a kiss, though he wasn’t sure that would happen in California either.

Maybe it could someday, he thought. Then he wouldn’t have to pretend that indirect contact through a joint was enough. He wouldn’t have to imagine or make believe. He could just turn his head, look into Argyle’s glowing eyes in the dark, and lean in with herbal confidence to back him up.

And they’d swing.

And they’d touch.

And even now, looking at Argyle’s profile wasn’t enough to satisfy. “Is there something on my face?” he asked, and Jonathan shook his head.

“No, just… your face.” His vision blurred as his eyelids slowly flitted closed, fighting an uphill battle to keep him awake. Everything was fuzzy inside and out, and Argyle chuckled.

“Well, I can’t exactly wipe that off, now, can I?”

In Hawkins, Jonathan wouldn’t have let his arm lean enough to the side to brush against Argyle’s. In Hawkins, his head wouldn’t have been guided to a broad shoulder with another pair of legs kicking the swing into motion again. In Hawkins, he wouldn’t have been completely and totally relaxed at the mercy of someone else, but Argyle’s head falling over his own was enough to blanket the rest of him in warmth. Maybe it was his hair.

Either way, it was Argyle. He was one thing to love about California.

#.discowrites #jargyle bingo #jargyle #jonathan byers #argyle #argyle x jonathan #jonathan x argyle #stranger things #stranger things fic

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annesthaeticc · 3 years ago

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Last Summer | Benedict C. x Fem!Reader

Last Summer : Chapter Three

SERIES NAVIGATION || PREVIOUS PART

| Series Summary : They say summer romances come and go, just like the season. It’s short-lived, yet it’s all you could ever want. You were starting to believe it, as you’ve had your heart broken badly two summers ago. But you doubt it the moment he entered your father’s secret villa in Greece. Will this be the summer you meet your forever love?

| Chapter Warning : fluff, teeny tiny bit of jealously angst

| Word Count : 2273 words

| A/N : hello! how're u doing! did u have fun celebrating our man's special day last night??? cause i surely did!! comments, hearts, REBLOGS make me smile! please lemme know how this one turned out! <3

In the end, you didn't miss watching the sunset. The line in the ice cream shop was long enough, and by the time you and Ben emerged from the sweetshop, the sun was about to set. You felt bold this time as you pulled him by his hand, and led him towards the pier.

The sea looked so majestic, sparkling orange and yellow as the sun started to slowly inch down beneath the waves. You sat on the stone and he did the same.

"We didn't miss the sunset after all," you heard him say. You grinned and licked your vanilla ice cream.

"It's pretty isn't it?" you asked, taken by such a beautiful view.

"It is." he answered, looking at the setting sun, then at you. At that moment, you turned and your gazes locked.

Instantly, you feel your cheeks become warm. Feeling a bit shy, you ducked down and chuckled.

"I think your cheeks are rosier than the sky," he absentmindedly said. He licked his strawberry ice cream and a chuckle vibrated from his throat.

"Forgive me, I tend to speak my mind sometimes," he said and that made you giggle.

"Okay, Mr. Darcy, you're forgiven," you're now hiccupping giggles. You found his words honest and heartwarming.

"Why thank you Miss Elizabeth. I must admit, I only do it when I'm with someone I feel comfortable with," he looked at you and you could feel he was sincere.

"Does that mean you feel comfortable with me?" you asked, and finished the remnants of your ice cream cone.

"I think I am," he replied.

You found yourself looking at him, your gaze alternating between his ocean blue eyes, and his cupid bow’s lips. His eyes were literally like the sea, it was blue, yet it reflected the color of the sky a little. You wondered what it would feel like to have those eyes be the first thing you see in the morning. His lips looked so soft, so sweet, so inviting. You wondered what it would feel like to have your lips be the first one to kiss those lips in the early morning.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, his brows furrowing into a frown. You were broken out of your trance and pointed at the spot where he had smeared his ice cream.

“Here?” he wiped a clean spot.

“No,” you muttered, and brought your finger up to wipe it for him.

Something came over you, you have no idea what it was. It could be the hot weather, or it could be just the mere fact that you like him, and you want him.

You put your finger into your mouth, slipping it between your lips. Flavor burst in your tongue; strawberry and the littlest hint of salt, his skin.

Benedict eyed you with a mounting want and need for you. His mind captured the moment you brought your finger to your lips, licking the remnant of ice cream you wiped from the corner of his lips. If you weren’t in a public place, he would've pulled you close to him and kissed you. Kiss you, taste you, mold his tongue against yours.

He would’ve let you know that he wants you too, in the best and in the worst way possible. He would’ve shown you that whatever is going on is a hundred percent mutual. He would’ve let you feel his growing want and his building need for you.

Yours and his gazes are locked still, when he heard you say, “I think your eyes are clear blue like the sea.”

“Looks like I’m not the one who could speak his mind,” Benedict said, his lips curling into a grin.

“I think that’s because I feel comfortable around you,” you replied, inching closer to him.

Ben did the same. He craved for your presence, your warmth. He craved to touch you; to have you close to him. He wanted you, ever since he saw you.

Of all the things he could never expect; it was you. He came to Greece with one thing in his mind; to take a breather before work starts again. But the moment he saw you, he saw your eyes, you were the one thing on his mind. You invaded his thoughts in a way he had never anticipated. He wasn’t prepared to have his mind clouded by you; a beautiful siren. He wasn’t in any way braced to have his heart healed, made whole again, only to be broken after a month or two.

He knows summer romances tend to end badly, but for you, he’d risk it.

Because one look at you, he realized he was struck with Cupid’s arrow of love at first sight. One look at you he knew every decision, may it be a good one or a bad one, every risk he’s willing to take, would be absolutely worth it.

“Maia,” he breathed as he tucked a stray hair away from your face. He witnessed you close your eyes, as if to relish his small yet electric touch.

“Ben,” you whispered. You tilted your face up a bit, and he took his hint.

He traced your cheekbone with his thumb, feeling the smoothness of your skin. He closed his eyes too, wanting to just feel you in that certain moment. Your lips were about to touch, a tingling anticipation sizzled between you. But the moment was cut short when your ears pricked, a loud voice calling your name.

“Maia! Guys they’re here!” Anna’s voice called you out and before the two of you disconnected from your close contact, Benedict felt you exhale, he felt your little exasperated breath against his lips.

The sun had finally set and the lights on the pier illuminated the cemented footpath. You were walking behind Eva and Benedict, who were talking about something you couldn’t care less listening to. Your cousins had anchored the yacht by the pier and they decided to get dinner in one of the seaside restaurants. They were excited to show Benedict around, particularly Eva.

Nate stayed behind and walked beside you, talking about living in the US. You weren’t listening much to him, all you caught was that he’s excited to own an apartment in upper Manhattan. Oh, and he’s looking forward to starting the business, getting to work. You nodded, and hummed when nodded, just to appear interested.

But your eyes were burning. Boring hot holes on Eva’s little blonde head. You weren’t one to get jealous but you feel it slowly simmering inside of you.

Oh Benedict, what have you done to me?

To say that you were into him was an understatement. No, your simple crush turned into something more when you two held hands. His touch was so gentle and his hold on you was comforting. You felt nothing but belongingness and just pure bliss.

He had an effect on you. He brought out something in you. Something you’ve never felt before. You were cautious for a few seconds, trying to thread on an uneven ground, but when he squeezed your hand while walking, you felt that uncertainty, that fear dissipate into the hot summer air.

He was something new, something that you had never experienced before, yet he felt like he was home. It felt like you could just be you when you’re around him. You could bare who you truly are, and bare a side of you that you’re yet to find out and get to know.

You’re well and truly aware of how summer romances end. It’s messy and certainly grueling. A temporary high, as you’ve called it. Brief yet it sure made your heart burst. You of all people, should know it by now. You should be sure not to do it again and redo your past mistakes.

But he’s all to blame. You cannot exactly help it. You became merciless under his intense gaze, you became powerless in the mildest and littlest of his touch. He ignited that resting fire in you, a raging one.

A fire that urges you to try, one more time. Just try. Try to love with your broken but slowly recovering heart for him, with him. A fire that pushes you to risk it. To risk the walls that you’ve barred around your heart and let it crumble and fall, for him, with him. A fire that makes you want to do it right this time. You want to do it right this time, for him and with him. You want this summer with him not to be your last, but rather, your forever.

Lovestruck thoughts were broken when Nate guided you into the steps of the restaurant, his hand gripping your wrist. You came out of it and minded yourself, you gave him a smile, as if to say thanks, and settled on one of the chairs. You decided to sit between Anna and Nate, wanting to stay away from Benedict for a few hours just to get your thoughts straight.

“We were waiting for you but Kit was too excited,” Eva said and you nodded. Benedict apologized and said he was the one to blame for keeping you. Eva was quick to forgive, saying “It’s fine, you can always board the yacht anyway.”

You watched their exchange but quickly turned away before you could grab the glass full of water and shower Eva with it. It was a bit pointless anyway, she just came from the sea and you bet she wouldn’t mind getting wet in front of Ben.

The whole entirety of dinner, you were distracted. Mind was sailing somewhere else. Your seatmates were buzzing, a great contrast to your mood that was taking a deep dive. Anna pulled you away and excused the two of you. Luckily Eva didn’t follow. Anna locked the two of you in the women’s room with a stern look on her face.

“Maia, what’s going on?” she asked. You instantly crumbled.

“I don’t know Anna,” you defeatedly sighed.

“Maia,” she sighed. She instantly empathized with you and stood next to you. She wrapped her around your shoulder.

“Please be careful. I can see you’re already taken with him,”

“What?” you gasped at the incredulity. Was it that obvious?

“I saw the two of you! You were about to kiss!” she hissed. You hid your glowing rose cheeks behind your hands.

“Maia, you and I know what happened last time. I was there when you ran out of tissues, bawling your eyes out. I don’t want that to happen again, not to you.”

“I'll try to do it right this time. I’ll make it last, I’ll do it right.” you firmly said. You turned, making your way to the door.

“And what if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll walk away knowing I at least tried.” you said before finally leaving.

The others were quick to sense the mood and agreed it was time to go home. You continued to maintain a safe distance from him as your doubts and worries buzzed in the back of your mind. Your cousins said their goodbyes along the way, parting in different directions. Until the two of you were the only ones heading towards the same place. If earlier, you two were inseparable, now it is different. A distance separated you from him. But you longed to touch him again, to feel him again.

The house was quiet and dark when you arrived. You stopped, stooped down by the door and removed your high heels sandals to avoid making noise. You could feel him follow you, his steps gentle under the wooden stairs.

You halted by your bedroom door, and he did the same, hand on the knob.

“Well, goodnight,” you softly said.

“Goodnight,” he said. You could see him smile, illuminated by the faint light of the moon.

“Before you go, can you tell me one thing?” you asked and walked the small space between you.

“Anything,” he exhaled as you stood close in front of him.

“Do you like Eva?”

“In what way?”

“This way.” you whispered before finally pulling him down for a kiss.

Lips finally crashed with each other, sampling and tasting. His lips were soft and you thought, no words could describe how you love the feel of his lips against yours. You breathed into his parted lips, before pulling away.

“My green-eyed goddess,” he murmured and sought out to touch your face. He gently pushed you onto the wall, his hand touching your cheek, his arm snaking around your waist.

“I like you, Maia.” he said, and just like the moon, you glowed in his words.

“In what way?” you echoed his words, and softly caressed his chest.

“This way.” he said the same words you uttered before ducking his head and letting his lips taste yours.

The kiss was firmer, fiercer this time. You threaded your fingers in his curls and he gasped in pleasure. He grinded his hips against yours in retaliation. There was no pretense, no fooling around this time round. When you parted and gasped for air, he looked at you with eyes so bright, so full of hope, so full of something more.

One nod, one small smile was all he needed. A silent understanding. You want him, you need him. He wants you, he needs you. It’s all so simple.

Only one door closed that night when there were supposed to be two. A loud crash against the hinges that broke the silent trance in the house. Only one door closed that night when there were supposed to be two, and it was yours.

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bakumu-archive · 4 years ago

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to capture a star

rich!Daichi x fem!reader

wc: 13k

summary: when daichi asks you to go with him to his family’s cabin during spring break, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by a giant mansion. Will the money and social life scare you away or will you be able to find love with daichi, despite being thrown into a world of fast cars and expensive clothing?

cw: rich people, SMUT (daddy, praise, biting, feral daichi, unprotected sex, creampie), pining, racing, one punch, blood (from the punch), alcohol, insecurity, mild jealousy, possessive daichi, side kiyoko x tanaka, probably ooc

a/n: this is for the rich boy collab hosted by @bakugohoex! be sure to check out all the other submissions! you can find the link to the masterlist here

terushima is an asshole in this and i'm sorry, i love him but i needed a captain to be sleazy and he volunteered. he told me he couldn't resist hitting on a cutie like you, and who am i to stop him.

check out the mood boards i made here and shout out to my beautiful beta reader @winniethepoohloathesyou for working so hard on this with me!

minors do not interact. this work contains mature themes and if you continue reading you have agreed you are willing to see such content

When Daichi sat down next to you in your econ class last week and asked you to come to his family cabin during spring break, this is not what you imagined.

You thought that you would be able to spend some time alone with him, enjoying nature together in a small house nestled in the forest, spending enough time together to finally put a label on whatever the spark was between the two of you.

But no.

You blink rapidly and take a good look at your new surroundings, trying to make sense of what your eyes see. Before you stands the largest house you have ever seen. But just calling it a house would be an extreme understatement.

This place is a mansion. Three stories of white brick detailed with elaborate stone embellishments. The gray mansard roof’s steep slope meets at the top with a fenced stone parapet. An elaborate garden extends between you and the house and you swear you can see an Olympic-sized swimming pool nestled into the courtyard. And this isn't even the front of the house. You blink in disbelief when you spot a giant race track off to your left and what looks like a massive, ten-car garage. The scent of sea air assaults your senses and when your gaze flickers to your right, you can see the ocean and the mansion's very own harbor.

And none of that even includes how you got here: on a private jet, landing on a personal runway where you currently stand.

The beat-up duffle bag you use for your family’s camping trips that hangs from your shoulder suddenly feels very wrong in a way you can't explain.

You turn to face Daichi as he joins you on the tarmac. “Daichi, this is your family cabin?” you ask wide-eyed, your voice sounding so high-pitched that you barely recognize it.

He rubs the back of his neck, one of his nervous habits. “Yeah, it's kind of embarrassing. I used to spend all of my summers here with my siblings but now the house barely gets used,” he says sheepishly.

Before you can ask any more questions, the loud rumbling of car engines interrupts your conversation and you see two sports cars taking two corners on the track before barreling down the straight of the runway towards you at top speed.

“Ah, those two are here already, I see,” Daichi grins. He takes your duffle bag from you, throwing the strap over his shoulder and pulling you closer to him while wrapping his arm around your waist.

The cars roar to a stop right behind the jet, creating the perfect image, an Instagram influencer’s wet dream.

Daichi leans over to whisper in your ear as they both get out of the cars, “The one in the red Ferrari LaFerrari is Kuroo Tetsuro and the one in the white Lamborghini Aventador is Bokuto Kotaro.”

The two are pointing fingers at each other as they get out of their cars bickering and you can see the wealth dripping off them. The man with the spiky black hair, that Daichi told you was Kuroo, is pointing back in the direction they came from as he closes his car door, while Bokuto, with his spiky gray hair, pouts, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. Both of them grab a bag from the trunks of their cars, still arguing with each other before Kuroo places his arm around Bokuto in a show of faux peace before they start walking towards you and Daichi.

“They're both idiots,” he pauses to watch Bokuto swat at Kuroo’s arm, “but they are actually really good guys.”

The two of them are still heated, poking at each other's chests as they reach you and Daichi, only stopping when he coughs to grab their attention.

“Are you two done yet?” he questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Daichi, I was faster, wasn't I?” whined Bokuto, giving Daichi and you a small pout as Kuroo pats his shoulder, leaning slightly closer to you.

“This must be Y/N. She’s cuter than you said Dai,” Kuroo says with a laugh.

You miss the way that Daichi’s cheeks start to turn pink because you were so taken aback at his statement. Daichi told his friends about you? His apparently super rich friends?

Daichi’s grip around your waist tightens slightly before he responds, “Guys this is Y/N L/N. Please, don't annoy her too much.”

Both of their heads perk up at that.

“Oh yeah Daichi, we will be perfect saints,” Kuroo smirks.

Bokuto matches Kuroo’s playfully devious look, suddenly over his apparent loss on the track. “Oh yeah, nothing but angels.”

Before Daichi has time to wipe the smiles off their faces, you hear the sound of helicopter blades whirring above.

You look around until you see it fly directly overhead. The sound fills the air as the helicopter starts its descent onto the helipad next to the parked jet.

The helicopter blades whip up the grass and plants all around, and you have to place your hand on your head to prevent your own hair from being messed up by the whirlwind.

You look over to Bokuto and Kuroo to see them fiercely trying to protect their hair spikes from the wind and failing. Daichi follows your gaze and when he sees them, he lets out a laugh in full force.

The helicopter makes a soft landing and the blades slow down when the engine turns off and two people step out.

The most beautiful girl you have ever seen in your life hops out from the operator's seat, throwing her gorgeous black hair over her shoulder as she walks over to the man holding his hand out for her, hoisting their designer bags over his shoulder.

“Kiyoko, Tanaka, I'm so glad that you guys could make it,” Daichi smiles at the couple as they approach.

Daichi lets go of your waist so he can give the two of them a proper hug, before introducing you.

“This is Y/N.”

Kiyoko walks up to you and grabs your hands in hers and smiles at you, “Finally another girl. It's about time.”

Tanaka laughs, “What, babe? Are you getting tired of us?”

She lets go of your hands so she can give Tanaka a playful slap to the chest, “You know that's not what I meant, Ryu. It'll be nice to have someone to get ready for the gala with!”

You feel Daichi slightly flinch next to you at the mention of a gala.

Your brows furrow as you ask, “A what now? Daichi never mentioned anything about a gala.”

You turn to him, questioningly, and he moves his hand to the back of his neck for the second time in ten minutes.

“It's nothing really, just this huge party my family has hosted for years. We really wouldn't even have to go if you don't want to…” the last few words trail off before he is interrupted by Kiyoko.

“What are you saying Daichi, you have to go! It's your family's gala.” Her brows are furrowed and she is looking at him suspiciously.

Daichi lets out an exasperated sigh, “Well that's a discussion for the future. Let’s go settle into our rooms.”

Daichi puts his arm around your shoulders as he leads the group up to the back porch, walking through the garden and around the giant swimming pool and fire pit area.

“I assume you four are taking your normal rooms?” Daichi asks the group.

They all nod before splitting in different directions, obviously understanding the intricate layout of the house after what you assume is years of friendship.

Daichi leads you through the first floor, pointing out various rooms and points of interest as you take in the vastness of your new surroundings. Most of the rooms have white or cream-colored walls with very intricate crown molding. Some have very distinct and uncomfortable furniture that looks like it has never been used, while others look like they are ready for a full day of lounging. He even takes you past the bowling alley and the in-home movie theater.

Eventually, he leads you to a huge staircase that circles around the main entryway to the house. The whole room looks like it's made out of marble and you take a twirling step to bask in the grandness of the space.

Daichi calls out to you, pulling you back into reality. He has one foot on the first step and his hand is outstretched for you to take.

“You coming?” he smiles at you, wiggling his fingers, waiting for you to take his hand.

When you do, you hold on to it like it's your lifeline, the only anchor you have in this unfamiliar territory. He leads you up two flights of stairs to the third floor and then down a large hallway filled with doors and golden crown molding.

He stops in front of a door before saying, “Well, this is you,” and moving your duffle bag back to your shoulder, letting his hand linger on your skin until he forces himself to pull away.

“I’m right here across the hall if you need anything, alright?” he reassures you with a smile.

You nod at him, trying to process all of the new information you've just taken in, before putting your hand on the doorknob and turning away from him.

He calls out to you before you go inside, “Why don't you take an hour or so — take a shower, there's a bathroom attached to the suite — and then when you come down to the kitchen, we can get some snacks?”

You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes at him with a pout, “Is this your way of telling me I smell?”

His laughter fills the hallway. “No, I just want you to relax. This is your vacation too, ya know?” His smile is contagious and you can't help but smile back at him, really hoping that a shower will help as he says.

“Okay Daichi, I'll try.”

With that you enter the bedroom, closing the door behind you before resting your head on the wood, letting out a very small sigh.

You try to relax like Daichi said by taking a warm shower, but everything was way too nice. The grand marble shower and the elegant tile tub just serve to remind you that you are in a world different than your own, giving you more anxiety than relaxation.

You manage to get through your shower: fiddling with all of the button options to turn the water off, grabbing a plush towel to dry off, and then changing into some of the clothes that you packed.

You head back out to the bedroom in a huff and take another look around, half expecting the room to have transformed into a new one completely, but you are glad that it's just as you left it.

The massive four-poster bed sits against one wall next to the room's giant floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the afternoon light, casting long shadows on the fireplace gracing the opposite wall and the plush sitting area in front of it.

You flop yourself on the bed, arms stretching out and you curse at how comfortable the mattress is.

Who would have guessed the handsome boy you met in your econ class was this filthy rich.

You don't want your brain to fantasize but your thoughts drift there anyways as you sit up to sort through your clothes; it dreams of a future where this could be all yours. It's not like you weren't dreaming about a future with Daichi before, but now you’re imagining paying off your student loans, using some money to help your struggling friends and family, or maybe going even bigger than that, like starting a business or a charity to really help people.

You have to stop yourself from going too far. You shouldn’t spiral with these thoughts because that's the big issue: you and Daichi, what are you really?

You were instantly infatuated with him when he smiled at you during your first economics lecture together just a few months ago. Sitting next to each other, passing a notebook back and forth drawing little doodles together when you should have been paying attention. The chemistry between the two of you only grew when you started studying together and he invited you out to party with some of his friends.

The two of you have even shared a few make-out sessions together at said parties, but the next day when you expected things to be awkward or to at least have a discussion about what it meant, Daichi always acted like everything was normal, like the two of you hadn't had your tongues down each other throats the night before.

And that's not to mention how he always seems to be holding your hand, or hooking his arm around you, giving you butterflies at every turn. He always seems to be more touchy when other guys are around, but you can say that you do the same. Hugging him back tighter when other girls look his way.

In the beginning, the small touches and longing glances you shared in class slowly turned to long hugs and holding hands. You thought that maybe Daichi was this way with all of his friends, but when he introduced you to his roommates, Asahi and Sugawara, you noticed that he isn’t that touchy with them. It seems to be something only reserved for you.

You think of all the shared touches that you've had just today and your heart flutters. It's like when the two of you touch, your heart is instantly filled with happiness that calms your soul. His touch just feels right and being with him feels as easy as breathing.

If soulmates do exist, you can imagine that this is what it feels like.

You let out a deep sigh, shaking away your thoughts, before you decide to make your way down to the kitchen to meet up with the others.

You follow the voices through the maze of corridors and staircases to the kitchen, thank god they are a noisy bunch.

Everyone is gathering around the huge kitchen island, with bowls of chips, candy, and other snacks scattered around, and there seem to be two different conversations going on.

Daichi has his back to you, and you walk up next to him, putting your head on his shoulder. He looks down, throwing his arm around you, pulling you into his space more before whispering, “How was your shower?”

You wrap your arms around his waist before shrugging your shoulders, choosing to instead focus on the conversation that Tanaka and Kuroo are having. Daichi grabs a few of the bowls of snacks and pulls them closer to you, taking a big handful of food for himself.

Kuroo lets out a loud annoyed groan before explaining, “Oikawa just texted me that he’s going to dock here for the night.”

You sense the mounting tension in the air and take a handful of snacks, ready to take in whatever drama that was about to unfold.

The mention of the name you are unfamiliar with seems to bring the other conversation to a close as everyone focuses their attention on Kuroo and his phone.

Daichi lets out an exasperated sigh. “I could have sworn I told him to keep that thing away from here,” he says, rubbing his hand down his face in annoyance.

“He's bringing that party boat here? During gala week?” Kiyoko adds, blowing hair out of her face with a huff.

“Eh, I'm not going to complain, it's always full of hot babes,” Tanaka says right before a smack lands on his chest from Kiyoko. He pulls her into him, playfully kissing her cheeks, “No one is hotter than you babe, you know that.”

She rolls her eyes at his response but seems to accept his apology.

Not having any idea about who or what they are talking about you pipe up, “Who’s coming?”

Daichi lets out a big sigh before explaining, “Oikawa is this guy we grew up with, he’s a big flirt with an even bigger yacht. It's pretty much a giant party boat that he fills with supermodels.” You can practically feel the way Daichi’s eyes roll at the notion of a party boat stacked to the nines with supermodels.

Bokuto moves to Daichi’s other side, leaning over the island looking around him at you with a wide smile and adds, “Not to mention the alcohol and drugs.”

“Yes, yes, Bokuto, we all know why you enjoy Oikawa’s visits,” Daichi retorts, shaking his head and laughing.

“He just texted again,” Kuroo says with an annoyed groan. “Says he's going to be docking in three hours.”

“Well, what do you guys want to do until he gets here?” Daichi asks, taking a big handful of pretzels from a bowl close to him.

“We could go for a race around the track,” Kuroo says with a devilish smile.

Bokuto lets out an excited yell before pointing at Kuroo and exclaiming, “Hell yeah, lets go!”

Everyone heads outside into the evening sun. The warmth that the sun provided during the afternoon seems to be fading, giving the air a slight chill.

Kuroo and Bokuto run with their hands in the air from the house to their cars before starting them and speeding off towards the track while Daichi leads you, Tanaka, and Kiyoko to the large ten-car garage that spans the side of the house.

He opens a side door leading everyone into the garage, pressing a big button on the wall causing all of the garage doors to begin opening, filling the space with light.

Your eyes widen when you look at the millions of dollars worth of vehicles equally spaced with precision in front of you. While you recognize some brands: Lamborghini, Ferrari, Bugatti, and Mercedes, there are more that you don't, and your eyes glaze over at the pure wealth displayed in the garage.

Tanaka's excited voice pulls you from your haze as he practically jumps up and down in place, “Can we take the Bugatti?” he shouts questioningly, making you jump.

“Sure thing,” Daichi replies as he takes the keys to the Bugatti Veyron SS off the hook and tosses them to Kiyoko.

You watch her unlock the car and climb into the driver's seat as Tanaka jumps into the passenger seat next to her. The engine roars to life and she carefully pulls it out of the garage before she peels off towards the track, leaving you and Daichi alone in the garage.

“So, do you see a car you like?” he questions, his eyes following the car as it barrels around a corner.

The first real time alone with him since landing here and he decides to ignore the elephant in the room? You wouldn’t be surprised if there was actually an elephant around here somewhere.

You ignore his question and turn to face him, “Dai, what the fuck. What is this place? How are you so rich?”

“I'm not rich, my parents are,” he quickly retorts, turning to face you.

“That's exactly what a rich person would say,” you roll your eyes at him.

“I know you must feel pretty deceived right now; it was so nice when I was just Daichi to you, not the heir to this big conglomerate worth millions of dollars,” he walks close to you, moving to place his hands on your shoulders but stopping himself, and lets his hands fall to the side almost in defeat.

“My dad is this huge businessman and he has all these women who throw themselves at him because of his money. He's never been in love, even when he was with my Mom, and I didn’t want that. I don't want that. I want to be in love. I want to marry someone I'm in love with and not because it is what has been decided for me.”

Of course, he would have a real reason that you couldn't get mad at. And of course, it’s romantic as hell. At least he’s being open about it now.

You look up at him, and you realize that this is the same Daichi that he's always been. Those are the same eyes that you've been looking at for months, the same hands that have held you so many times, the same Daichi as always, just a different setting.

“You know I'm not like that Dai, you could have told me,” you reply, your voice softer than it was earlier.

He takes a step closer, his hands reaching out and rubbing away at the stress in your shoulders.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry that I kept this hidden from you. I should have told you.” He sighs, closing the remaining space between the two of you and moving his hands to cup your face. “I just want you to understand what getting into a full relationship with me would mean.”

The way Daichi is looking at you makes your heart melt. His eyes reach your face in desperation, half expecting you to push him away but you just lean into his hands, closing your eyes and savoring his touch before you match his vulnerable gaze.

“What would a full relationship mean then, Daichi?” you practically purr at him.

“It means all this,” he says before kissing you lightly. “All the fun stuff, the cars, the houses, the private jets,” he kisses you again. “But it also comes with a lot of not fun stuff too.”

You take a deep breath before responding, heart pounding from the intimacy of the moment. “And what would happen if I said that I still wanted a relationship with you? Even with the not-fun stuff.”

His breath hitches before he smiles. “I'd give you everything,” he whispers, eyes searching yours again, thumbs caressing your lips softly as he still cradles your face in his hands. “I'd buy you the moon if you wanted it.”

“Good thing I don't want the moon then.” You grab his shirt, closing the gap between the two of you before kissing him.

His hands fall to your hips before he starts to push you backwards towards the Ferrari behind you, until your ass hits the car, never disconnecting from the kiss.

His lips feel warm on yours as you get swept away into the moment with him. Your lips moving in tandem before his tongue expertly sweeps out at your bottom lip. You let out a moan, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth.

His grip on your waist only gets harder when he starts to move his body against yours, rutting his hips against yours, letting out a small moan into your mouth.

If the two of you weren't so caught up in each other, you would have heard Kuroo pull up to the garage and step out of his car before just staring at the two of you locked in each other's embrace. He rests his cheek on his short car door before he reaches a hand inside his car to honk the horn. You and Daichi startle at the sound, pulling apart as Daichi sends Kuroo a death glare.

Kuroo lets out a loud laugh unaffected by Daichi’s glare. “Thanks for the show, but are we going to race or what?”

Daichi waves him off, looking back down at you, his eyes bouncing from your lips to your eyes, with a smirk, “Do you want to drive?”

You hear Kuroo drive away as you playfully smack Daichi’s chest before you exclaim, “God no!”

His eyes close as he chuckles at you, “Okay, fair. But which one do you want to take?”

You look around at the cars not really knowing too much about them, so you ask, “Which one is the fastest?”

He smirks at you and says, “That’s my girl,” before throwing an arm around your shoulder and grabbing the key for the white Koenigsegg Regera off the hook.

He walks you over to the passenger side of the car, opening the scissor door for you and watching you take a seat before pulling it closed and jogging to his side, getting in the car.

The brown leather of the interior is a stark contrast to the white of the outside paint, and you find your body being cradled in the expensive bucket seat. Daichi leans over you, grabbing your seat belt and buckling it for you, bringing his face inches away from yours, teasing you before he buckles his own seat.

He pulls out of the garage slowly before putting the pedal to the floor and driving off towards the airstrip, racing around a few tight corners before he drives towards the runway where the other three cars are already lined up.

Bokuto jumps off of his side fender when he sees you and Daichi approach and makes his way inside his car with an excited spring in his step. Kiyoko kisses Tanaka before making her way into her borrowed car and Kuroo, who was sitting cross-legged on the roof of his car watches the two of you pull up before jumping down and walking towards you.

Daichi meticulously lines up the front wheels with the other cars, before letting the engine idle, rolling down the window to talk to Kuroo.

When the rooster-haired man leans down to talk into the window, you don't miss his glance at you, before his eyes dart back to Daichi, and a small dusting of pink appears on his cheeks.

“We've decided we're doing a mile drag, first to cross the line wins, the loser has to make dinner and wash the dishes,” Kuroo announces.

Daichi looks over to you, intertwining your fingers and bringing them up to lips, kissing your knuckles, and a determined look crosses his face, his mouth turning up on the corner in a smirk. “Winner gets to pick what's for dinner, so you better decide what you want.”

His competitive side is something that you rarely see, usually only coming out when he's challenged, and the charged air around him has heat pooling between your legs.

Daichi lets your hand go and starts going through the settings of the car, setting up the launch control, mumbling to himself as he remembers how to set it up, as Kuroo heads back to his car.

You hear the roar of the other engines as they come to life and look through Daichi’s window at the other drivers, all giving thumbs up, ready to start.

Before Daichi gives his thumbs-up, he turns to you, “Just keep your head back, alright?”

You give him a worried look, but comply, placing the back of your head on the headrest behind you. You're concerned about what to do with your hands so you decide to place them in your lap.

Daichi gives the thumbs up and rolls his window up, giving the engine a few revs before hovering his foot over the gas in wait.

You watch as a now shirtless Tanaka walks out in between the cars. You can barely hear him as he starts to count down from five, but when he gets to one, he starts waving his shirt in the air wildly and Daichi slams on the gas.

The world starts to blur as the car accelerates. The loud roar of the engine assaults your ears as your heart starts to beat faster from the sudden adrenaline rush.

Time seems to slow as you go faster. You watch the speedometer increase: 60, 80,100, 120 and it’s still climbing.

The noise of the air rushes past as the car seamlessly cuts through and you feel your heart beating in your throat.

You look over at Daichi to see a big smile on his face; he knows he’s winning and you take the time to look back as Kuroo is being passed by Kiyoko, and she's getting closer to Daichi.

You let out a laugh: the crazy speeds and all the adrenaline pumping through making your body seem like it's on fire.

You glance at the speedometer and watch it hit 240 mph before you and Daichi cross the finish line first and he slams on the brakes. You are very glad you listened to him about keeping your head back, or else you're sure you would have whiplash.

Daichi stops the car, putting it in park before turning to look at you, your eyes full of bewilderment as your body tries to process the fact that you're in one piece after such a rush.

“Holy shit Dai! You won! We won! That was amazing!” you exclaim frantically to a smiling Daichi, laughing along with you as you stammer on about how fast it was.

The other cars form a circle with the hoods facing each other, and you watch as everyone starts to get out.

Daichi nods his head towards the others, “Come on, let’s go gloat.”

Everyone sits or leans against the hood of their cars, and Daichi once again has you tucked under his arm. You laugh along with the group and their antics as they argue over the standings. The official decision was that Daichi won, which was unanimous, with Kiyoko taking second, followed by Kuroo and Bokuto.

Bokuto said something about his launch control was being finicky before all of you hear whooping and yelling coming from a very out-of-breath Tanaka. He had apparently started running after the cars had left and was just now reaching the group.

Everyone is in high spirits as you talk for a bit and you seem to mesh seamlessly with them, throwing out a few quips that make Bokuto and Kuroo snort, teaming up with Kiyoko when the boys get too rowdy. It almost seems like you're not the new person in the group, that you’ve known them forever, and you are really happy that Daichi has surrounded himself with great people.

The rest of the evening was spent driving the cars and having long chats afterwards, about nothing and everything all at once.

When it came time for dinner, since you and Dai were the winners, you got to decide what Bokuto was making for everyone. His attempt at your favorite dish left the kitchen filled with smoke and Daichi surprised everyone with pizza, even before talks of a back up plan for was discussed.

Then you heard the horn of a ship, followed by mixed reactions as the five of you clear up dinner and get ready to leave the mansion for the ‘sex ferry,’ as Bokuto called it.

Daichi gets closer to you and murmurs into your hair, “Watch out for pervs on the boat, stay close to me, yeah?” You nod, as you wrap your arm around his ready to leave.

That is, until Kiyoko stops Daichi before the two of you make it out the door, “I’m stealing her for a second, she can't go on a yacht dressed like that!”

You look yourself over in the mirror and you have to admit, Kiyoko did an excellent job dressing you up.

Your hair is perfectly styled and your face has just the right amount of makeup. Kiyoko crosses in front of the mirror applying the finishing touch: a shimmering lip gloss that is the perfect shade for you. The oversized, white knit sweater that she had you put on hangs loosely over your curves, tucked in perfectly into the brown skirt that she picked out for you. It's not a look that you would usually go for, but you have to give her credit, she did a good job, you look stunning.

On the way up to this ginormous closet, she had explained to you that Daichi’s sisters had this closet stocked with every size and designer label known to man, just in case any of their friends needed a last minute change of clothes.

At first, you didn't believe her, but when you saw the enormous room with a rainbow of color-coordinated clothes hanging from floor to ceiling you changed your tune. You were even more shocked to find that all of the clothes still had their price tags on, wincing at the $1,000 price of one pair of pants.

Kiyoko gives you one last glance over before she starts to get herself ready, dressing in a black long-sleeved dress, the hem of the skirt falling just at her thighs and fishnet stockings, the exact opposite of the aesthetic she chose for you.

She applies her red lipstick with a pop before turning to you, “Well, what do you think?’

She takes your hand and twirls you around so that you are facing the mirror before she rests her chin on your shoulder.

You laugh at her antics, before replying, “I think we look hot!”

The two of you make your way down to the boat, exiting the mansion through a side door and make your way down to the dock.

Now that you are up close to the boat, you can see the massive amount of people on board. The four decks are filled to the brim with people dancing, talking, and making out, all with various drinks in their hands, and you can see Aoba Johsai written in cursive on the side of the boat.

The two of you step onboard and you hear him before you see him, “Kiyoko, over here!”

Tanaka is calling out for her through the crowd of people, leaning along the railing of the boat, dressed in all black and holding two beers.

She makes her way through the crowd with you close behind. Tanaka wraps her in his arms, kissing her on the cheek.

“Looking good babe,” he growls into her ear as she takes one of the beers from his hand.

The two of them look like they are about to start making out with all of their flirty touches, and you would like to find Daichi as soon as possible so you clear your throat and ask, “Do you know where Daichi is?”

“He's usually in the second-floor pool room; it’s up the stairs, second door on the right,” Tanaka replies while gesturing toward the stairway back by where you just came from.

You nod and take your leave, making your way to the stairs, bumping into people on the crowded deck. After the first few steps, you look back at Kiyoko, wondering if she’s coming with you. Too late, you think as you watch Tanaka pull her hips closer to his, whisper into her ear, and start kissing down her neck.

You shake your head and continue on, happy that she's having fun, but wishing you still had her company by your side.

At the top of the stairs, you only see one door that opens to an empty hallway. You decide to take your luck with it, even if this isn't the right place, it's a nice space to take a breather from all the people.

You open the door and what you thought was a quiet hallway turns out to be an echo chamber for the bass echoing off the walls. Where is the music even coming from; you barely heard it outside?

Leaning against the wall, you take a few deep breaths, which are immediately interrupted by the smell of cigar smoke wafting towards you. Part of you wants to leave but the other part of you says stay, stay for him.

This is so much to process, you can already feel a migraine coming on. The smell of cigar smoke and the thumping bass echoing off the walls of the ship isn't helping your stress levels. Where is Daichi? This would be so much easier if he would just appear by your side magically.

The door you just came through opens and shuts with a squeak, and you hope that your prayers have been answered, but when you turn to look at the person who just joined your space, it is very much not Daichi.

His blonde hair and very noticeable tongue ring are the farthest from Daichi as you can get, and you really wish that you weren't in this hallway alone with him right now.

He makes his way closer to you, getting in your personal space, leaning one arm against the wall next to your head to look you up and down, before licking his lips.

“Hey baby girl, are you lost?”

You start to look for an exit as he moves closer to you. “No, I'm just looking for someone,” you reply.

His arms cage you in, not giving you any room to move away. “Aw, don't be like that, I can show you a good time too,” he insists. “The name's Yūji Terushima, you'll need to know it when you're screaming it out later.”

You try to move away from him but he won't let you pass, until you hear a door open.

Daichi comes out of one of the side rooms and the instant he sees you trapped by this man, his eyes turn red with anger.

He rushes over to the two of you, yelling out, “Hey! Get off of her!”

Terushima isn't quick enough to respond, turning to face Daichi, but Daichi is already at his side sending his fist flying towards the blond's nose with a mean right hook.

Your body sags with relief as Daichi pulls you into his arms and Terushima is on the floor withering in pain, gasping at his probably broken nose.

Daichi is frantically looking over you, checking your arms and face for any sort of harm, “Did he touch you? Are you okay?” he questions you rapidly.

You bury your face in his chest and nod, “Yeah, I'm ok.”

He puts his arms around you before pulling you away towards the door he just came from. “We're down here,” he says, glaring at Terushima covered in his blood on the floor, leading you away from him.

The room that Daichi was in is stuffed full of people. People line the walls, getting very personal with each other, while others sit on the couches in the center of the room with people pulled onto their laps or under their arms. There are two pool tables on either side of the couches and you spot Kuroo and Bokuto playing what looks like a game of strip pool with four girls, and, from the looks of it, they are losing badly. On the other end of the room is a large bar, with glass bottles lining shelves behind it and a few empty bar stools.

Daichi chooses to ignore his almost naked friends and heads towards the bar, pulling out a stool for you before taking the seat next to you.

The bartender has very fluffy brown hair with matching brown eyes and once he's done serving up drinks to the couple down the bar, he makes his way over to you.

He starts to gather a glass for Daichi without even asking him what he wanted and then looks at you expectantly, “Well cutie, what can I get for you?”

Daichi levels his gaze at the man, and you can feel the deep grumble vibrate from his chest before he turns to you, “This,” he gestures to the bartender, “is Oikawa.”

Oikawa gives you a wink before scurrying out of Daichi’s reach as he playfully tries to grab him, causing Daichi to let out a huff.

With the weird environment you're in, you think it's best to forgo alcohol, at least for now, so you ask Oikawa for water.

He hands you a glass with lots of ice in it and you watch the way the two of them interact. Their friendship looks to be built on a bed of mutual annoyance, but you can see how they care about each other hidden in the undertones of their speech.

The night goes on and you spend a lot of it with Oikawa and Daichi at the bar. Oikawa asks you lots of personal questions, some of which you choose to ignore, and some of them you indulge him a little. If Daichi trusts him, it's okay for you too, right?

Just as your ass is starting to hurt from the barstool, a younger man comes up to Daichi, his orange hair bouncing in the wind as he practically vibrates in place. You catch his name, Hinata, and some of what he's trying to explain. There seems to be trouble between him and another guy, and he came to Daichi to be the mediator.

You can't blame him; in fact, if you were having any sort of trouble, Daichi's the first person that you would seek out. Daichi is so strong and dependable, he makes the rest of the world feel safe and easy. It's not that he makes problems go away but he seems to take in the situation for what it is and find a solution that seems so blatantly obvious you can't believe that no one else thought of it first.

Daichi is that and so much more. His playfulness and competitiveness are something that you saw today when he was driving that car. Not to mention how hot he looked behind the wheel, his arms muscles were on full display and you barely even got the chance to stare at them. You think about going back in time just so that you could watch them flex as he gripped the steering wheel.

You shake your head, trying to pull your brain away from the horny thoughts, but all that manages to do is send you back to the memories of your hot makeout session in the garage earlier. How his hands were all over your body, his lips pressed to yours...

Daichi’s laugh pulls you from your daydream and you realize that he, Hinata and Oikawa are all staring at you. His hand is waving in front of your face, “Earth to Y/N.”

Your shocked expression tells you everything he needs to know so he repeats himself, putting his hand on your knee, “You good here for a minute? I gotta help Hinata with something.” You nod at him and the two walk off together.

Oikawa talks to you in between serving people drinks and you manage to have a decent conversation about your university studies. Turns out, he is studying a major very similar to yours.

Oikawa pulls his phone out and answers it, before putting it down on his shoulder, turning to you, “I have to take this, I’ll have one of my boys take you to Daichi.”

He turns to one of the nearby couches close to the bar before barking out, “Mattsun, take her out to where Daichi is. I have some shit to deal with.”

The man he called out to kisses the blonde sitting on his lap before moving her off of him so that he can help you find Daichi. His tall body leads you out onto the deck of the boat through hordes of drunk people dancing and making out until you spot an orange mess of hair and Daichi standing next to him.

As you get closer you notice a small, but rather important detail that you couldn't see when you were farther away, Daichi is surrounded by tall, skinny, gorgeous-looking supermodels, and all of them seem to have their hands on him.

Daichi seems not to notice the touches, he's too focused on a boy with black hair laying upside down on a lounge chair, his hair softly caressing the wooden deck with every small gust of wind.

You notice another woman start to touch his hair before Daichi swats her away like she’s a fly before he's kneeling to look at the chair guy again.

Mattsun leads you closer to Daichi, announcing your arrival before saying his goodbyes and heading back where he came from. You yell out thanks as he is leaving and he waves his hand in the air as he walks away.

Daichi stands from his kneeling position and moves to your side. He has to get closer to your ear to talk as you are now closer to wherever the loud music is coming from but you don't mind, wrapping your arms around his waist possessively, eyeing the other girls.

“Kageyama had too much to drink, he's absolutely wasted,” Daichi says loudly, making sure you can hear him over the bumping bass.

You wished you would have grabbed your water before you left the bar. Just when you're about to suggest someone go get him some water, Oikawa bursts out onto the deck from a side door, exclaiming, “That little shit!” before running off towards the upper decks. You see that he's being followed by Mattsun, the guy who just helped you, and two other men, one with spiky black hair and the other with short pink hair. They all look extremely pissed.

You hear the sound of helicopter blades before you feel a blast of wind, causing the water to start rippling around the boat. You look curiously up at Daichi before he's turning and barking orders to Hinata to get the drunk guy some water and crackers before he's grabbing your hand.

“There's only one man that could be, and we better go make sure Oikawa doesn't kill him.”

By the time you two make it to the upper deck where the helipad is, there already seems to be a standoff in place. A tall man with dark olive hair stands with a large briefcase tucked under the arm of his suit coat. He does not look like he's dressed for a party, but instead like he's about to go into a courtroom.

This new man's face is void of emotion as Oikawa is practically snarling at him, lip upturned like an angry dog.

Daichi runs between the two warring factions, putting up his hands to Oikawa before turning to the tall man.

But before Daichi can say anything Oikawa is yelling over his head, “Who said you could land here, get lost!”

The tall man completely ignores Oikawa, walking up to Daichi, “Ah, Sawamura, just the man I was hoping to see.”

Oikawa's face turns red with anger, if this was an anime you are sure that there would be steam coming out of his head.

Daichi looks at him quizzically, “All this just to see me? Should we go talk in private?”

Ushijima gives him a confirming grunt, nodding his head and Daichi leads him around Oikawa and his men, stopping to whisper something in Oikawa's ear, looking at you, before making his way over to you.

His hand cups your face and you nuzzle into them as he speaks, “I have to go talk to Ushijima. Oikawa said he'll watch out for you so stay here until I get back alright?”

You don't want to leave his side again, but this must be important if a guy is willing to land on what seems to be his mortal enemy's boat only to talk to Daichi. You give him a small pout before you nod, and he kisses you before turning and jogging after the mysterious Ushijima.

Oikawa throws his hands up into the air making his way over to a bar. Damn, he really has these things on every level, doesn't he?

This bar is smaller than the one in the pool room, and only has two stools, but there is a long couch next to it where his men sit down. He motions for you to take a seat at the bar as he starts pouring drinks for the other three, before offering to do the same for you. Taking him up on his offer this time he makes you both matching fruity drinks with cute umbrellas before he joins you, sitting at the barstool next to you.

Oikawa still seems to be on edge from his confrontation with Ushijima, or the lack of one, so the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a bit. You watch some of the party-goers stumble around on the lower decks, and you see women and men come up to talk to the three sitting on the couches. You pick up their names after a bit — Iwaizumi, Makki, and Mattsun, are what everyone calls them — and you eventually watch Mattsun get pulled away by the busty blonde you saw him with earlier.

Oikawa seems to pull himself out of his mental slump when he finishes his drink while you've only been sipping on yours, so you are nowhere near close to finishing it. He makes his way back over to the bar side and washes his cup before he starts making another concoction for himself.

He breaks his silence, “So, you and Daichi are pretty cute together.”

You hum at him in agreement, taking another small sip of your drink.

He continues, “He must be pretty serious about you if he's bringing you all the way out here. He's never brought a girl here before.”

Daichi and you haven't talked about your past relationships, but you aren't really surprised to hear that with what he told you earlier about wanting to be in love.

You don't want to pry, but you do want to know more. This side of Daichi’s life is still a mystery to you.

“Not even one girl?” you ask him in all sincerity.

Oikawa smirks, glad that he caught your attention with that one. “Well, he did date a girl from our neck of the woods, if that's what you want to call us rich shits. She was hot and smart but they never really seemed to mesh.”

You give him a curious look so he continues, “She was all business, no heart. And you know Daichi, his heart is ten times too big. They just didn't work.”

You nod taking in your new information before you feel someone next to you, the man with the pink hair, Makki.

He opens his mouth before he leans on the bar to stabilize himself, the alcohol apparently starting to kick in. His words are slurred together. “Are you two talking about Daichi? I heard some models say they would pay $10,000 to lick one of his thigh muscles!”

Oikawa pushes the drunken Makki off the bar and he stumbles back to the couch before slumping over into a woman's cleavage.

“Don't mind him,” Oikawa says, trying to bring back the lighter mood from earlier. “He doesn't know what he's talking about.”

Oh, but you do know what he’s talking about. You've been avoiding the thoughts since you landed, but now there's no holding back the dark thoughts you've been trying to suppress.

How are you supposed to be good enough for him? For Daichi and his big heart? You've seen it so much tonight, the way he laughs and takes care of his friends, like it’s second nature, coming easier than breathing for him. He's so caring, compassionate, fun and you're just you.

How are you supposed to compete for his attention when you are up against literal supermodels?

You swipe at frustrated tears forming in the corner of your eyes before speaking to Oikawa, “Can you tell Daichi I’m gonna go back to the house, I'm tired. But it was nice to meet you.”

You were very much not tired. This was the most wide-awake you have felt in quite some time. Your mind races with all the things that are wrong about the situation you find yourself in. You would laugh at how being on a billionaire’s floating sex boat is what made you feel this insecure if you weren’t feeling so pathetic.

You find your way off the boat with ease, pushing past people grinding on each other to get back to the dock so you can make your way to the safety of your bedroom.

As you get to the house’s side door you hear a familiar voice calling out your name.

Turning around, you see Daichi running up the path you just took, before he stops next to you, out of breath.

“Did you sprint all the way up here?” you ask him.

“Yeah…” he pants out in between breaths. “I wanted ... to catch you.”

“I told Oikawa I was going to bed, it’s been a long day and —,” you try to explain but he interrupts you.

“Are you actually tired?”

You are fidgeting with your hands, not wanting to lie to him, “Well, not exactly...”

“Come somewhere with me.” It flows out of his mouth like a demand but you can see the question in his eyes as they gleam in the darkness. You look at him quizzically before he continues, “Don't worry, no one else is gonna be there.”

Your lips turn in a small smile at his statement, “Just us?”

He takes your hands, placing them both between his own and brings them to his lips, giving your knuckles a light kiss. He keeps them there when he replies, “Yes, just us. I promise.”

You think for a minute, and then give him a hesitant yes.

His face lights up, “Okay, let's get some supplies.”

He takes your hand, pulling you into the kitchen, grabbing the snacks you like, and a nice chilled glass of water along with two glasses before motioning to a cupboard, telling you to grab the best blankets.

When you rub the blankets on your skin to test which ones are softer, Daichi smirks at you.

“Cute,” he says before making his way over to you, “but make sure you grab one of the big sturdy ones too.”

He grabs a basket for all the stuff and wraps you in one of the soft blankets before heading to the elevator that was tucked away in the corner of the kitchen.

“An elevator, really?” you grin at him, your earlier frustration easing away the more time you spend with him and his smile.

“To be fair, it was installed before we bought the house, but my grandma does use it a lot.”

The two of you ride the elevator to the top floor where Daichi starts running a hand along the wall looking for something. When a secret door pops open, he laughs at your shocked expression before motioning you to follow him inside.

A hidden staircase leads the two of you up to the roof and you take in the sight of the grounds. You can see the race track where you spent your evening, the large yacht floating below filled with people still bumping away to the music, and the stars... You swear that you've never seen the stars shine so bright before. You can see them weaving patterns in the night sky, their stories unknown to you but you enjoy their beauty nonetheless.

When you look over at Daichi, his eyes are soft as they trace your features, and you love the way his gaze makes you feel.

He leads you out to a small section of the roof near the middle of the house where he lays the thick blanket on the ground, setting out the snacks and taking off his shoes before sitting down on the blanket, patting the spot next to him as you take off your shoes and join him.

The two of you sit together, eating snacks, sharing stories for a while, staring up at the night sky together, before he turns to you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Let's play a game,” he proposes.

You look him over and nod, waiting for him to explain the game.

“It's easy, just ask me anything, whatever you need answered and I won't hold anything back.” He seems very confident, obviously wanting to make himself an open book after keeping this big secret from you. There are so many things you could ask, you don’t know where to start.

You raise an eyebrow at him before asking, “What is the worst decision you've ever made?”

He rolls his head to look you in the eyes, before raising his eyebrows at you, “Going right for the hard-hitting questions then?”

“You said you'd answer Daichi, are you gonna take that back?” you say with a little smirk.

He thinks for a moment before replying. “Fine,” He says before rolling his eyes, “I let Bokuto give me a tattoo once when we were both drunk.”

He sees your quizzical eyes as you try to suppress your laughter, “It’s on my ass and it’s a smiley face. Stop laughing!”

You can't stop the laughter that comes from you as you imagine your big strong Daichi with a funky little tattoo on his ass cheek. You are wiping the tears out of your eyes as he takes his opportunity for revenge.

“Okay, my turn!” he exclaims, rubbing his hands together.

You have to stop laughing so hard so that you can retort, “Wait, wait, you never said that I would have to answer too!”

He smiles and shakes his head, laughing. “Yeah, I guess you're right. How about I get to ask you a question for every two questions you ask me? And you don't have to answer if you don't want to.”

You look at him questioningly and you are very curious as to what Daichi would want to know about you so badly he’s willing to put himself on the line first. “Sounds fun,” you smile.

“Good, what's your second question?”

“What were you talking about with that guy, Ushijima?”

He looks uncomfortable as he tries to think about how to answer you. “Well, he mostly just saw Oikawa's boat and wanted to annoy him,” he chuckles before continuing. “But he also wanted to talk about a deal that our fathers are trying to make to secure our family ties. It's something that we both are very against.”

His answer leaves you with more questions, “What do you mean, ‘family ties’?”

He smoothly switches from his uncomfortable state and offers you a coy smile, “Do you want that to be your next question, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes at him you respond, “Ugh, no.”

“Okay, good because I really don't want to think about it. My turn then.” He thinks for a second before asking, “Do you think this,” he gestures into the air, “is too much for you? You know, the cars, boats, houses, money?”

You pause to gather your thoughts, staring up at the night sky again.

“I think that it's a lot to take in all at once,” you say slowly, calculating each word before it comes out of your mouth. “Especially the sex party boat,” you chuckle, “But I could get used to it.” You let the ‘for you’ hang in the air unspoken.

He grabs your hand, looking up to the stars, “I’m glad. Okay, what's your next question?”

You don't want to ruin the mood and ask about the ‘family ties’ between his and Ushijima’s families, so instead, you choose a safer route.

“What was it like growing up?”

He seems taken aback at first before a simple smile adorns his face, “My parents didn't love each other, not really. They had me, and then my brothers and sisters, but when times got hard they didn't support each other. They divorced pretty early in my life, I was still a kid when it happened.”

He pauses when you squeeze his hand in reassurance, but he's still smiling as he continues, “They split the companies between them, got us a nanny, and we bounced back and forth between houses every few months. I eventually just ended up as the caretaker for my siblings, making sure they didn't turn into spoiled brats.”

His laugh at the last part is so genuine it makes your heart flutter, but even so, his life has been far from perfect. “Wow, Daichi, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It wasn't that bad, I got to have a lot of fun.” He shakes off your concerned look before he gets to ask his question, “My turn again. What was it like for you growing up?”

You explain to him about your family dynamic, watching how his eyes seem to light up when you make jokes and then fall when you mention your hardships. He squeezes your hand like he never wants to let go when you finish telling him your stories, a playful smile returning to his lips before he tells you to ask your next set of questions.

You think of what to ask next, and your face grows hot as your brain churns up a question that you have never talked about with Daichi before.

Your tongue stumbles as the words flow from your mouth, “Have you had sex before?”

He tries to suppress his smile, “Yeah a few times, not with anyone really special though.”

Your lips part in surprise and you find yourself asking in a breathless tone, “What’s your number?”

Daichi leans closer to you, erasing the distance between your bodies as his hands move up the skin on your exposed thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake, “Is that your next question?”

You're breathless, the heat from his fingers distracting you from the fire brewing inside you, “Yeah, it is.”

Daichi’s lips are so close to your own you can feel his breath on your soft skin, his voice dipping an octave when he asks, “Why, do you want to be one of them?”

You clear your mind enough to retort back at him. “Is that your next question?” you say, brushing your nose against his teasingly.

“Yes,” he answers before his breath hitches in his throat as you move your hands to his thighs.

“You first,” you giggle as his cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

He answers as quickly as possible, his words almost too fast to hear but his tone is so low it sends shockwaves straight to your core. “It’s four, Laney in high school, this girl Kay at a party, Hime my ex and then Jackie in college a year ago. Your turn.”

Your mind clouds with his scent as you bring your hands up to his chest. Why is he so hot when talking about other people he's fucked, and why aren't you more jealous?

“I- uh, yeah. I would love to be your number five,” you stammer out.

He smirks at you, both of you are very obviously in need of each other's touch, more than you were getting and you can't deny how good it feels to have his undivided attention like this. Something about Daichi makes you forget your sense of self, and his touch instantly sends your heart racing.

“Do you have any more questions, sweetheart?”

You nod, biting your lip, “Are you going to kiss me, Dai?”

He nods before his eyes search yours. The stars tonight are reflected in his dark irises and you swear that you could get lost in him if you looked long enough.

Daichi moves closer to you at an agonizingly slow pace, and you savor the electricity that is simmering in the distance. It's enough to have your heart skip a beat before he closes the gap.

His lips meet yours and it's slow at first. His touch and kiss are reminiscent of the way that stars seemingly burn for eons until they can't take any more heat and explode in a fury of passion.

You grab the collar of his shirt, bringing him impossibly closer to you, wanting to erase any remaining space between the two of you. You seemingly throw him off his balance as he almost falls on top of you. You can feel him smile into the kiss before he starts to reposition your body with his big, strong hands.

Daichi sits back, before pulling your body into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist before continuing the kiss. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip and you moan at the contact, allowing him access, while you snake your hands into his hair, giving his roots a slight tug to get him to kiss you harder.

More. You need more.

His hands move up your body from your hips with a slow drag of his fingertips up to your neck, cradling your head in his hands, angling your head to kiss you deeper.

Your body burns at the contact with him, your soul reaching out for his through your kiss. Hearts melting and colliding into one supernova as your lips push and pull against each other. This heat that ignites within you that only he can seem to control, grows and grows until you feel like you're going to go insane if you don't touch him more soon.

Grinding your hips down on him, you can feel how much he is enjoying this, and you can't help but smile when he lets out a small whine into your mouth. Kissing him harder you start to move your hips against his as he ruts up into you at the same time. The delicious friction you've been craving but it's not enough, you need more.

His mind must have melded with yours because he stops kissing you, pulling away with your bottom lip caught between his teeth until you let out a small gasp.

“Pretty girl, tell me you want this,” he asks breathlessly.

You feel your cunt clench at his praise, needing more from him, needing everything.

“Dai, I want all of you.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and his eyes take in the sight of you on top of him with the endless backdrop of stars above you.

The look he's giving you melts any remaining pieces of your heart into a giant puddle, his eyes are soft and a small smile is on his lips as he whispers, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

You rest your forehead on his, looking him in the eyes and reply, “me too.”

He smiles at you bigger and you can't imagine feeling any happier than you are right now, his eyes crinkle in happiness before he buries his face into your chest, wrapping around you and hugging you with a huge amount of strength.

You let him hold you like that for a few seconds before the need growing in your stomach becomes unbearable.

You move your hands to cradle his head, pulling him from your chest so that you can look at him. His eyes are half-lidded looking up at you in awe, like he can’t believe that you're here with him on his lap.

“Daichi,” you practically purr, “please, fuck me.”

His eyes flutter at your words, and he bites his lip. He looks like he's fighting some sort of internal battle.

Before you can register his movement, the world is tilting on its axis, and your back is now on the soft blanket. His strong arms caging you under him and your legs are around his waist as he leans over you.

You can see why he was staring up at you earlier, he looks heavenly with the night sky as his backdrop. The soft glow from the house illuminating his features and he looks beautiful and so fucking sexy.

His eyes land on your lips and you watch as one corner of his mouth tilts up in satisfaction at your reaction to him.

“Aw, my girl thinks I'm sexy,” he says, nuzzling his nose against yours as he taunts you.

You can't believe you said that out loud, but it's true so you nod, worried what else will come out of your mouth if you choose to open it.

He leans down so that he is right next to your ear and he growls, “I think she’s fucking sexy too.”

He gives your earlobe a small nip before he starts kissing your neck. You turn your head, giving him more room, and he takes full advantage of it, tracing his tongue along your pulse before moving his lips against your skin. His lips search your neck until he finds that spot that makes you gasp, and then he focuses all his attention there, biting it lightly before his tongue swipes away the sting.

You moan for him, moving your hand to his hair, gathering some between your fingers before he sucks hard. Your hips jut up, grinding on him in pleasure, and both of you moan into each other as your clothed cunt brushes against his hard cock.

“I’ve been so fucking hard for you since our kiss earlier.” His mouth kisses down to your shoulder which is still covered by your sweater. “Do you want my mouth or my fingers?”

His hands make their way under your sweater and over the skin of your stomach, before teasing your nipples through your bra and you let out a gasp when he gives one of them a squeeze, a warning for you not answering him.

“I asked you a question, answer me,” he says in a stern voice that sends shivers down your spine and makes your eyes flutter.

Your mind tries to calculate a response, as the assault on your nipples increases, sending shocks of pleasure right to your core.

Unable to focus on anything but how his fingers feel on your skin as he trails a hand down your body, “your fingers, please” you moan out for him.

He leans back and pushes your skirt up around your hips before he starts to tease his fingers along the cloth covering your core.

His gaze on you makes you want to cover yourself up, but when you move to close your legs, his hand grabs your knee and pushes you back open for him.

He uses both of his hands to pull your underwear down, staring at the string of slick that connects them and your soaked folds. He tosses them somewhere over his shoulder, before taking in the sight before him. The cold night air meets your warm cunt and sends shivers up your spine, but the cold is quickly replaced with the heat of Daichi’s warm hands on your thighs.

“God, you're beautiful,” he groans, as he watches your cunt flutter around nothing at the depth of his voice. Fingers moving back to your slit, teasing your folds before he moves his fingers up to circle your clit.

You let out a gasp when he finally touches you where you've been needing him. Your hips jut up in search of more contact.

He teases his fingers through your folds before sliding one into you. You can feel how wet you are and it makes your face heat up but he feels so good inside you, you don't care.

He thrusts his finger into you a few times before adding a second, watching your face morph into pleasured bliss before focusing his attention on the way your walls are trying to suck him inside.

Your hands move to your chest, kneading the flesh there as he increases his pace, finger-fucking you until he finds the spot that makes you scream.

The pleasure in your body continues to build as he focuses all his attention on that one spot. Your nerves are all on fire and you can feel the building pressure, just waiting to be released. Daichi is making you feel so alive, his fingers working magic on your body, weaving their way into your soul and imprinting his mark there where it can never leave.

All of the muscles in your body tense and you hear Daichi say, “cum for me,” before the coil inside you snaps and your body convulses in pleasure, singing out his name in praise as he sends you to the stars. His voice and fingers still work you over, sending more pleasure into your system before you feel yourself gush around his fingers, your body almost folding in on itself as you grab at his wrist to hold him still inside of you.

Your breath comes out in short bursts as you relax onto the blanket with him still kneeling between your legs. When you look up at him, he has the cockiest smile on his face, obviously proud of himself.

You weakly smile and nod at him, hoping that he understands that he just sent you into orbit before you stretch out your hands for him.

He reaches out, and you pull him down on top of you. You kiss him roughly and he eagerly ruts his hips into you, moaning into your mouth when he can feel your wetness seeping through his pants.

You reach down between your bodies, unbuckling his belt and undoing the button on his pants. You try to get to his cock, but with the angle you're at and his boxers getting in the way, you can't seem to reach, and you let out a small whine.

Daichi seems to understand, and he pushes his pants and boxers down past his thighs, giving you the perfect view of his cock.

It makes your mouth water and you want to taste him so bad. Your hands move to stroke him, gathering the precum that leaks onto your fingers before you pop them into your mouth, lapping up the flavor eagerly.

You moan at the taste, sucking on your fingers, wishing they were his cock. You vow to yourself to take him down your throat and have him at your mercy before the end of this trip.

Daichi’s hand pumps his shaft a few times before he runs the tip through your folds, gathering your slick, before circling your clit with the head of his cock.

You moan at how thick and heavy he feels against your soft folds. “Please Dai. I need you so bad, please, fuck me.”

He lets out a groan. “When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?”

He lets go of his cock, and moves his hands up to hold yours, interlocking your fingers together before his lips connect to yours in a hungry kiss. He holds eye contact with you as he slowly moves his hips into position as the head of his cock slowly presses into you.

You watch him bite his lip as he fights the urge to buck into you, his half-lidded eyes concentrating on your face, watching your mouth form into a beautiful ‘o’ and your eyes flutter as he pushes more of himself inside you.

When his hips are flush against yours, he stills, wanting to give you time to get used to his girth. He can't help but savor the way your walls are squeezing him and sucking him into you. You give him a slow nod before he starts moving again, slowly pulling out of you and before pushing back in with more power.

You can't help but dig your nails into the back of his hands, forming crescent-shaped indents. The way his cock hits all of the spots inside of you perfectly has you questioning if this is a dream, but the way he sounds and looks as he moves above you is something so hot that your brain could never imagine it this perfectly.

His lips scatter kisses along your jaw until he's at your neck again, savoring the feel of your still tender flesh against his tongue. He’s taking his time focusing on leaving his mark at the top of your collarbone, sucking and nipping at your skin.

His head falls to your shoulder and his breath turns uneven as he pants out, “if you keep squeezing me like that I'm not gonna last,” in between thrusts.

You aren't going to last either, the coil in your stomach is already dangerously close to snapping again.

“Da-Daddy,” you moan, completely lost in your pleasure.

He pauses above you with his cock still fully sheathed in your dripping cunt, his head snapping up off your shoulder to look into your eyes, his brow furrowing. “What did you just call me?”

It takes a second for your mind to process what you just said. His hips being completely still as his cock continues to stretch you is not helping your brain processes.

And then it hits you, why did you just say that, oh no. “I’m sorry it slipped out — I’m so —” you panic, stopping when you realize he is shaking his head with a gleam in his eyes you haven’t seen before.

Daichi angles his hips before thrusting into you at an even harder and rougher pace. “Say it again,” he commands, each word accentuated by a heavy thrust.

You bite your lip as the pleasure takes over you once again as he pounds into you. The sheer strength he has is evident in the power behind each thrust.

You can't help yourself when you start babbling out a mixture of his name and new nickname, the two words becoming interchangeable on your tongue and streaming together.

Daichi releases your hands so that he can get a better grip on your hips, pounding into you without abandon. His eyes go dark as he loses himself in the feeling of your cunt, so soft and pliant and warm all around him. All his.

He can feel you tensing around him, squeezing his soul out of his body as his cock begs for release.

He speaks through his teeth as his whole body is clenching, hold out his orgasm for you, "Fucking cum on my cock baby girl. I need to feel it."

He lets out a primal growl as you feel the pressure inside you release as your pussy milks his cock. Your orgasm crashing through you, forcing you to grip onto his strong shoulders, leaving dark circles that will eventually turn into bruises into his perfect skin.

You cry out for him, chanting his name as your vision clouds over, and you swear you can see the universe unfolding and refolding in on itself as your body is propelled through time and space.

Your mind is hazy as your muscles twitch. Daichi is still pounding into you, babbling about how much of a good girl you are and how much he's going to fill you up, claim you as his.

Your body is still shaking with pleasure when you feel Daichi’s thrusts start to waver, your pulsating walls still pulling him even deeper until he lets out a moan of your name above you. His eyes lock with yours as he spills his cum inside you, filling you up completely until it seeps out around his cock.

You both are panting as Daichi leans down to kiss you, his soft lips a stark contrast to the pounding your cunt just received.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his weight on top of you and keeping him sheathed inside you.

The stars shine down on you in their infinite beauty and you wish you could stay in this moment forever with him, breathing in his scent, the two of your souls merged into one, with your breathing in sync. All you need is him, you think, only him and you could be happy forever.

Daichi wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He looks down at your sleeping form on his chest and debates on whether or not he should move you to turn the assault of buzzing off.

When his phone quiets down, he lets out a small sigh of relief.

After last night on the roof, the two of you managed to sneak to his room without anyone seeing you. Kuroo and Bokuto almost caught the two of you, but with women on each of their arms, they were a little too preoccupied trying to navigate through the mansion to pay attention to you and Daichi hiding in the shadows, giggling at their antics.

After the two of you got cleaned up, you both got comfortable under the covers, talking the night away, exchanging small kisses and playful jabs before you fell asleep on his chest.

He looks back down at you, and you look so cute sleeping in one of his shirts, the little bit of drool pooling on his chest is adorable and he wishes his phone was closer so he could take a photo.

The incessant buzzing starts again and he lets out a small curse.

Whoever is calling him must really need him. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your shampoo before he very slowly moves your sleeping body off him.

He grabs his phone off the nightstand before heading to the bathroom, not wanting to disturb your sleep with whatever this phone call is.

Finally looking down at the caller ID, he wishes he would have just thrown his phone out the window but nevertheless, he answers after letting out a big sigh.

“Dad, what do you need?”

His father talks to him through the phone before Daichi has heard enough. He says one phrase to his dad before hanging up the phone and turning his phone off and slamming it on the counter.

“Drop it, I am not meeting with Hime.”

the blonde sitting on issei’s lap? that was me uwu

who wants a part 2? i couldnt finish the other half in time for the deadline🙏 please forgive me

send me an ask to be added to my tag list

@matchamintmochi @unlimitedpastapass @eijirosriot @strawbub @thathoneybee3

#🌻.collab #rich boy collab #daichi x reader #Daichi Sawamura #Daichi Sawamura x reader #hq x reader #tw.blood #tw.alcohol #tw.daddy #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smut

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dyinglikenarcissus · 4 years ago

Text

This his nothing to do with Kinktober but I was inspired after watching Brad Mondo’s braiding video.

Steve is obviously my comfort character and the only person I’d let touch my hair without permission

Braided

Warnings: none. Just fluffy which is very out of character for me. Probably full of mistakes but that’s all on me

1k words

Please don’t copy or repost my work, thanks! Plagiarism is rude!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated 😊

You sigh looking at your hair in the little counter top mirror you had propped in between you and your laptop. You knew it would take a long time but this was ridiculous.

You didn’t want to spend this long in a shop making small talk with your braider for six to eight hours so you opted to do your own micro braids. There was a bit of a learning curve doing them on your own hair but you figured it out.

And now you only had about…90% left to do.

You groan in defeat and drop your arms from sectioning out another piece.

“Princess? You home?” You hear your boyfriend call from the entry way.

“Stevie!” You cry and jump off the bed. He was away on a mission with no scheduled return date so you were awaiting his arrival with bated breath.

You emerge from your shared bedroom to take him in. A filthy and beaten up but still in one piece Captain America stands in your kitchen taking an Oreo from the cookie jar before seeing you.

“There’s my sweet girl,” he grins showing off those pearly whites. You leap into his arms wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist like you’ll never let go. “Missed you,” he mumbles into your neck.

“Missed you more,” you whisper and pull away to get a good look at him. The dirt and blood smeared across his face and caked into his sun kissed hair told you he decided to come directly home from whatever horrors he was knee deep in. His bright ocean eyes shine just for you as you meet them.

And there’s a tired smile on his plump lips that you can’t help but feel with your own. Perfect is the only word you can think to describe the kiss. How his lips mold around yours, how he puts in the perfect amount of pressure. You press your forehead against his as you pull away and just take in his warmth. To everyone else he was Captain America: Avenger, war hero, American icon. But to you, he was home.

“So what are you doing to your hair now, princess?” He asks placing you on the counter to eat his cookie.

“Micro braids,” you sigh and start to undo his uniform for him. His shield clatters to the floor forgotten, followed by his tactical belt and weapons. He lets out a sigh of relief just shedding those few extra pounds and burdens. “You want a bath, Cap?”

“Please, baby,” he sighs and lifts you off the counter to carry you back to the bedroom. He unwillingly lets you go to continue to strip off his uniform while you go to run him a hot bath, tying your hair in a scarf along the way. He tiredly stumbles into the bathroom just as you dump in some bubble bath.

“You’re so good to me,” Steve mutters.

“I have to take care of my man,” you smile as he steps past you into the tub. You strip off your own top so it doesn’t get wet and clean the weeks long mission off of him. “Are you hungry?”

“We grabbed something on the way home,” he groans as you scrub his hair. “I’m just ready to curl up with my best girl and get some sleep.” You giggle at his wish.

“Yes, sir,” you joke and let him rinse off the soap. “How are Sam and Bucky?” You ask as he dries off.

“Good. They want to have a barbecue or something for my birthday.”

“I’m down. But I thought you wanted to see that new movie,” you remind him as you rub lotion on his back. He’s so old. He forgets sometimes.

“I was hoping we can do both.”

“That’s a big day for an almost hundred year old man. Think you can handle all that excitement?” He swats your ass softly in retaliation while you just laugh and duck away from his assault. He eventually catches you, he always does, just to pull you into a searing kiss. You lead him back into the bedroom and sigh at the assorted hair products strewn across the bed. You’d have to get some headway on this if you hoped to finish by the start of your work week.

Steve notices the turmoil going on in your head. He always does no matter how worn out he is.

“Show me how. Let’s get this done so we can go to sleep.”

“No way!” You protest. “You’re exhausted. I’ll just go to the living room.”

“I’m not sleeping without you after missing you for so long. Now sit down and show me how to do it. That’s an order.”

Your eyes widen at his words and you will the flutter in your stomach to relax as you make your self comfortable and give him a demonstration. You slowly twist the braiding hair into your strands, giving him as good a view as you can around your fingers.

“It’s always a little tricky to get the hair to catch the first few times,” you explain as he takes a shot at it after watching you do a couple.

“Perfect, baby!” You smile after Steve finishes his first braid.

“I can do this all day,” he grins. “You section, I’ll braid?” He suggests which you easily agree to. His fingers work much faster than yours anyway.

You’re completely finished with your hair after a single episode 90 day fiancé. “Stevie! It’s gorgeous!” You cry inspecting your hair in the tiny mirror, flipping it over your shoulder a few times just to watch the movement.

“All in a day’s work, ma’am,” Steve laughs.

“Let me boil these ends and mousse it, then I’m all yours.”

“I’m counting the seconds,” Steve yawns and starts stacking your hair products and laptop on your bedside table so you have absolutely no distractions when you returned.

You return with your hair wrapped and ready for bed to your boyfriend half asleep and scrolling through his phone.

You climb on top of him and curl over him. “You need to open your own hair salon,” you whisper into his chest.

“I only do my best girl’s hair,” the blond smiles and pulls you into his tight embrace.

“Thank you, baby. You’re the best.” He only hums tiredly. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” You kiss him softly before making yourself comfortable. What did you ever do to deserve Captain America?

Dividers

#steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #steve Rogers x reader

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moonlightchildz · 4 years ago

Text

wild; j.h

summary: jung hoseok had the tendency in driving you wild while fucking you senseless.

tags: M, established relationship, smut, creampie, fingering, domestic!hoseok, somewhat of spit play, slight degradation, drug usage (weed)

“So you do this,” Hoseok began showing you how to roll, his eyebrows furrowing in deep concentration. He was too busy trying to demonstrate to you how to properly do it as you watched him in fascination. He was just too cute to not pay attention to. From the way he slowly bit down on his lower heart shaped lip to the way his pretty hands looked underneath the dim lighting in his back porch.

In his thighs he had a basic raw tray, and you were peering up at him in admiration even though what he was doing wasn’t exactly the most legal thing he should be doing at the moment. His wavy hair was swept on the sides, heart shaped lips looking kissable right there and then. He was humming, concentration passing beyond 100 percent and right then your heart sighed. Followed by it fluttering once you saw the tip of his tongue begin to lick the tobacco leaf. His short, manicured nails were turning the half made blunt in his hands, tongue shutting it sealed.

He was always detailed, precise, and quick when it came to rolling his shit. One of the things that fascinated you of him was how he was constantly putting his all in literally everything. His work, his dancing, his rolling, his goals, ambitions, and everything that made him into the person that was Jung Hoseok was magnified even more by his sheer beauty. So as your boyfriend occupied himself in finishing it, you let your thoughts wonder straight down to the gutter. Hoseok was always fucking phenomenal with his hands and mouth. That was something he was definitely cocky of and with every damn right he should be. The first night you two were intimate he had fingered fucked you into oblivion and ate you out until you felt like you were defying gravity.

“And that’s how you perfectly roll a blunt,” he cockily finished, holding the ending product out towards you. You tried to compose yourself, tried to make it look as if you were paying attention from the beginning, but it was too late. He had caught you.

He sighed once he glanced up through his long, thick lashes. “You weren’t even paying attention, y/n.”

You impishly smiled, eyes crinkling as you leaned forward. “I’m sorry,” you began, though not feeling sorry at all. “You’re just really...wow.” you lamely tried to express just why your attention span was shit.

He looked annoyed now and you simply giggled to yourself since your boyfriend always tended to take instructing so damn seriously. But hey, he was a pretty damn great instructor. A really, pretty and beautiful one. A hot one too.

He however was not the least amused. Judging by the way he was gazing at you with a pouty mouth, you knew you were bound to get an earful. “Just because we’re dating doesn’t give you the excuse to slac—” he began, and even when he was reprimanding you, you still viewed him as your beautiful, breathless, and irresistible lover.

“You’re not even paying attention right now!”

Sheepishly, you just leaned into him with apologetic hands already framing his squishy cheeks. His words slowed down and lowered to a mutter once upon seeing you so close to him, as if catching him off guard. And just like a charm, your spell had already rendered him speechless as usual. With a tiny, but cocky smirk you teasingly brushed your lips against his, fingertips slowly caressing his skin, admiring him up close.

A hot whisper left your lips, “I’m sorry baby, I really didn’t mean to.”

Hoseok just grinned against your mouth before he slowly leaned in, eyes set on you until they fluttered to a close as he softly kissed you. Your hands slowly abandoned his face, lips molding against each other’s. You let yourself clung onto your boyfriend, arms winding around his neck as his hands began to encircle you. His hands were already working their way underneath your dress, fingertips ghosting your sensitive thighs all while he slowly began to unravel you with just the magic of his lips.

He quickly eased into you once your hands began to tug at the hair strands at the nape of his neck. His body was turning towards you, mischievous fingers squeezing and bruising your bare thighs. It didn't take long before you were already crawling on top of his thighs, blunt forgotten now. You caressed his face, admiring his beauty before you turned and leaned backwards into his arms.

“Am I forgiven now?” you softly teased, a smile edging your lips. “I promise I’ll pay attention next time.”

“You were staring at literally anything but at the blunt,” he said, amused now. His hands were on your thighs once again, gently squeezing part of one. However your eyes were mainly fixated on his swollen pink lips. “It’s cute actually, even though you have the attention span of a squirrel though.”

“I’m sorry,” you brushed your lips against his, momentarily catching his bottom lip with your teeth. “It’s just, I have a really, and I mean, really, hot boyfriend you see, and uh I can’t help myself when he’s looking at me like that.”

His light brown hair covered his eyes so you ran your fingers through his wavy strands, wanting to see your man in all perfection in this dim lighting. There was a soft breeze, reminding you of the ocean that was just a couple feet away from the both of you. The both of you were in the comfort of his home, alone, enjoying the water nearby, and being wrapped up in each other for as long you both needed. Tonight was just barely the beginning for the two of you.

He was already shaking his head, shyly uttering out, “Yaaa, stop it.”

You noticed how his cheeks were flushed, bashful smile luring your heart into his mercy.

“I am so serious right now, baby,” you purred out, lips tracing the underside of his jaw until you could feel his breathing fan your skin. You could feel his breathing pick up, fingers tightening around whatever part of your body he could grasp at the moment.

You felt him begin to grin, and as you glanced up, your wandering hands had managed to loosely wrap around his neck.

He quirked up an eyebrow, “Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” you nodded eagerly.

His hands were already framing your face, kissing you deeply before you could respond. His tongue was making love to you as your hips slowly began to move against his. Your fingers slowly made their way up his shirt, roughly fisting it. God, right now all you wanted was to run your fingers down his skin, kiss every part of his body, and leave love bites to adorn his melanin skin. Every fiber of your body wanted nothing but to feel your lover against your warm body. You wanted nothing more than having his plushed lips suck your sensitive skin into his mouth.

Hoseok’s fingers tangled in your hair, pressing your mouths together as you panted out against his lips. You felt your hips move on their own, rocking your whole body against Hoseok’s hardening cock. You could feel your underwear dampen as the tip of his cock brushed against your center each time you moved your hips. Soft, keening moans emitted from your lips and it was driving him wild. Your whole existence drove him to utter madness. He just couldn’t get enough of you. Your hands were already bunging up his shirt, urging him to take that damn thing off already. As Hoseok pulled it over his head with one hand, your hands nimbly unbuttoned his shorts.

He was already hard, and the anticipation to feel him inside of you was already brimming out of you. He wasted no time in letting his fingers find your covered clit, his thumb gently brushing it in guided circles. His fingers stroked your sex, rolling it between his fingers in such a teasing motion. He was a teasing little fucker and his batshit smile was a dead giveaway.

“I don’t need it,” you whined out, hands stopping his fingers. As much as you loved his hands, you wanted his dick inside of you at the moment.

“You’re not wet enough,” he contradicted, trying to shush you. This time he slid your lacy underwear to the side and with his thumb on your clit and finger, he slowly continued playing with your pussy. He watched as you impatiently ran your hands to your breast. Thumbs stroking on your nipples as he coated his fingers with your juices. He began stroking you and you were a hot mess, lolling your head to the side, and slowly beginning to rut yourself against his magic, slender fingers.

“Seokie, please,” you whined out, trying to feel him even more as urgently and desperately as possible. He simply curled his digits inside of you, dark eyes watching his princess beginning to lose control of herself once again. Fingers were digging into his shoulder blades, soft moans emitting from your reddened lips.

“H-Hoseok,” you cried out, strands of your damp hair attaching to your face. Your eyes were clamped shut, mouth pressed directly against his cheek. Hoseok simply gave you a peck on the lips, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He knew if he licked the pussy, you both would simply forget about the finished blunt and take care of business for the rest of the pending night.

“Please,” you kissed the side of his mouth, stopping his movements with your hand. You continued to leave wet opened mouth kisses all over his jaw, your breath ghosting the nape of his neck. His darkened gaze studied you, slowly sucking his fingers into his mouth with such delight.

Once he was done, his hands cupped your cheeks, puffing your lips out to him. “You’re the most impatient brat,” he mused out, his smile just making your chest swell with pride and happiness. Yeah you were a brat, but you were his brat to deal with. Heart, soul, and body belonged to him wholeheartedly and completely.

He swiftly moved your panties a side, slowly sliding down a finger. “mhm,” he began, getting cocky since his girl was already dripping wet and mewling to get fucked. “I guess you were right, baby.”

His hands were firmly placed on your hips, guiding you over his thick, and veiny cock. His hooded gaze fervently landed on your face, watching as he teasingly rubbed your pussy against the tip of his cock. With each movement, you coated his dick with slick and he softly groaned at the delicacy, the blood rushing straight down to his dick. Your mouth was slightly ajar at the sensation that you couldn’t help but spread your thighs wider, having yourself rut against his cock with such teasing and slow movements.

“Oh my god,” you murmured out against the crook of his skin, your tongue tracing his hot skin as your fingers dug into his back. You felt his cock twitch underneath you, and you knew he loved it when you were being such a dirty whore just for him. So you tugged at his earlobe, whispering, “I can’t wait to have my pussy stuffed with your cum.”

You felt how slick your pussy was incredibly getting from swiveling your hips against his hardened, thick, and veiny cock. He was teasing as he nudged the tip of his cock inside your folds, and then slid it back out. He was practically biting back his groans, enjoying just how much you were already mewling.

“Please,” you whimpered out, lips trying to find his swollen mouth in need. Your dilated pupils met his, cheeks were flushed already, and your fingers were beginning to wander all over his toned abdomen. Your heavy breathing fanned his mouth, foreheads were pressed against each other’s, and your eyes were trained on his. Bodies were overwhelmed to the point where Hoseok found himself pushing inside of you. Your breath hitched as you felt him, slowly fill you up.

“Oh fuck,” you softly moaned out at the feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you. Your slick covered thighs rubbed against his, driving Hoseok absolutely insane. All he wanted in that moment was to lick your mess away with his tongue and shove his fingers inside your wet cunt until you were a sobbing mess just for him. You felt him smirk against your skin as his hands grabbed your ass, and thrusted into you.

“You take my cock so well, princess,” he grunted out as you slammed down against hips, meeting his thrust halfway.

“Only for you,” you incoherently whimpered out, moaning afterwards as you rolled over him. His hands engulfed your back, helping you bounce right back up and slamming you down against him. Pants began to leave his lips, your soft whimpers and pleads of ‘more, more’ edging him on.

“Such a pretty princess,” he agreed, dark gaze taking in the way you rocked your hips so sensually. Your hands were matted into your head, his cock making you stupid dizzy.

“I-ah-I,” you incoherently cried out, eyes screwed shut, and nails digging into his shoulder blades. You felt your body arch, arms instantly wrapping around his neck as you felt sweat coat your skin and his. The sound of skin slapping and your wet pussy sliding out and slamming back down was all that echoed in the back of his porch. Hoseok was keen on watching the way his cock slid out of your pussy, edging mewls out of those sinning lips.

His hand grabbed a hold of your neck, halting your movements. His hand was large enough to cup the side of your face and right underneath the base of your throat. He teasingly nudged his thumb inside your mouth, knowing damn well how much you loved his hands. He was grinning down at you, amused at how fucked out you seemed to be and he wasn’t even done with you yet. As you glanced up at him, your hands caressed his flushed face, mouth finding his in seconds. His lips sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, saliva dripping down your chin as he nipped and licked away until you were begging against his mouth in such moans.

“You want on your knees, or back?” he nudged your nose with his, his voice a bit huskier and slurred. There wasn’t a second thought as you responded, “Blow my back out.”

His hand was grabbing a hold of the back your neck as he lowered you down on your back, legs hanging from the edge of his settee. He didn’t even need to spread your legs apart from him since you were his whore and you loved doing that already.

“Fuck,” he groaned out in disbelief. The sight of you looking completely disheveled and ready for more had him rendered speechless.

He pinned your wrists above your head, tongue running up the side of your neck. His plumped lips peppered kisses down your collarbone, tongue sliding and tracing them to his liking. He was absolutely infatuated with you and his love language was marking his significant other.

he released your arms, spitting out, “stay still, whore.”

you kept your arms crossed, chest heaving as hoseok grabbed a hold of his aching cock. he ran the tip of it against your glistening pussy, moaning at the soft whimpers emitting from your lips. your thighs were quivering and you were so fucking messy, mouth slightly ajar as he watched your hole clench around nothing but air. he slowly pushed himself inside of you, grunting at how you were swallowing him completely, mewling so fucking loud. it’s all he wanted to hear from you now and on.

“mhm, fuuck,” you choked out, your fingers desperately grabbing a hold of his arms to tug him upwards. you needed his lips on your neck, your collarbones, and him whispering the dirty things he would do to mess you up even more.

“baby likes it, huh? my cock?” he rasped out, lips ghosting the underside of your chin. he was grinning from ear to ear, watching as you arched your back for him, spilling nothing but your dirty sins out into the void.

“mhm, mhm,” you cried out, eyes fluttering to a close as he slid out and pushed himself all the way back in to the hilt. you swore you could feel the pulse of his cock drag against your walls, and you relished at how hoseok nipped at your soft skin. he bit down on your collarbones, then ran his tongue over, splattering his spit all over your chest just how you loved it.

he bottomed down, fingers digging into your thighs.

“oh my fucking god,” you moaned out loudly, head thrown back in absolute bliss. He was thrusting into you, his hips snapping with such fervor that had your head bouncing against the settee. at some point your fingers were holding on to the back of the settee, hands barely managing to grip on to it.

“More, more, please--” you kept repeating over and over again as your legs to quivered. With each thrust, you could feel the pulse of his cock hit every inch and corner of your sweet cunt.

Perspiration coated his body and yours and the summer breeze made it even more exhilarating. The both of you too wrapped up in each other’s arms, lost in sense as he kissed your worries away and welcomed your most sinful desires.

He shifted suddenly, gathering your right leg and pushing it to the side. His forehead was pressed against yours, mouths missing each other’s in desperate attempts to reach your high. You felt it bubbling up on your lower region, toes curling and on your slick covered thighs.

“So close,” you cried out, body shaking in his arms. Your nails were dragging down his back, edging him on. Hoseok kisses you, swallowing your moans into his mouth as he gave one last thrust, sending you into a state of euphoria.

You felt his cum begin to drip down your thighs, and as you tried to close your legs, Hoseok simply spread them wider for him. He would never get tired of seeing his cum leak down your thighs.

“Brat.” He pulled back, leaving you panting. you could barely breathe, much less try to at least sit up. so he delicately wrapped an arm around your body, helping you sit up right on his lap. he was quick in grabbing the soft towel, the pad of his fingertips ghosting your sensitive skin. you watched how his fingers nimbly cleaned you, imagining how they would feel being sucked into your mouth.

even as he spread your legs open to clean you up, he definitely noted the way your skin arose with goosebumps. it made him smile.

“I love you,” you smiled in return, your hands cupping his face, turning him so he could glance down at you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed out and even while you were motionless, you still managed to punch him on the arm. He chuckled, and purposely kept on ignoring you until he was done cleaning you up completely.

“Hoseok,” you pouted and he leaned back into your clingy arms, kissing you dizzy again. His fingers were tender as they caressed your cheek, smile endless and eyes closed.

“I love you more, silly.”

content with that, you judged your nose against his before he said, “So, how about that blunt?”

You were already lighting it as you slightly leaned away from him. “Can you pass me your shirt? I’m cold.”

Hoseok threw you his shirt, shaking his head as he watched you deeply inhale. Sure, you didn’t pay attention to the rolling, but you sure as hell didn’t need teaching in smoking all of his shit. He watched as you paused momentarily to slide on his shirt and crawl over to him once again. your throne was his lap - specially his thick thighs - and he knew that already. his thighs and mouth were all yours.

You sat with your legs entangled with his, eyes half lidded, and a pouty mouth. “What?” He chuckled, his index finger bopping your nose rather cutely.

“Miss you,” you nuzzled your nose against the crook of his neck.

He let you into his arms before embracing you and pulling you tight against his chest. “I’m right here baby.” He muttered out as you passed him the blunt.

You sighed in contentment, smoke wafting the both of you as you nuzzled yourself on to him. you pressed your lips on the base of his throat, mumbling out, “I love you.”

Smoke emitted from his lips as he slowly crooned out, “You drive me absolutely wild, you know?”

“I love you.” you smiled widely at him. You would never get tired of saying those three words to him. Expressing your love to him was one of your most endearing features and he absolutely loved you for it. vocalizing your love for him was his own reward after making you cum countless of times.

He slowly kissed you, humming against your lips as you cheesed from these simple words. “Impossible, princess. I love you more.”

#hoseok smut #bts smut #jhope smut #hoseok fluff #bts imagines #hoseok fanfic #hoseok imagines #kpopsmut #bangtan #bts #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #jin smut #weedsex

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sacrificialmaiid · 3 years ago

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@fallesto cont. from [x]

Was there nothing more precious than a bouncing infant upon your knee? Was there nothing more pure and innocent that the creation of life itself. Of the wonders of known that your mold…your blood…a piece of you was all that as required. To stretch across vast lands and endless oceans to be withheld within a strange unknown land and left within the hands of fate itself. That the countless corporations that had branched from umbrella with their greed…the lady countess with her endless wealth…the connections with there lust for power.

Each and every single one of them promising her all that she wanted. A child. Sweet and whole…nothing more than that. Yet each of them failed her at every chance she gave them. Blessing them with gifts and the means to great such…wonders…and yet never was there a return. Never once did they come close to giving her what her heart yearned for, it was her own…a mere piece of her, a fragment…a piece of mold that lingered within two lovers, a man and a woman…and a story of old as time itself.

“And the little daughter, learned to always trust her mother, to always remain at her side.” A turn of the page as she held it with one hand and the child within the other. “Oh…a most welcomed visit, from a fallen child strayed from the path.”

The cold wind would bite at her flesh as she pulled the child that much closer to her. Little Eva…perfect in every single way. A pure innocence that she now had and would never let go from his grasp ever again. As she merely stared forward, at the roaring fire. She had…enjoyed her isolation from the village. From the lords, from the flock, from all those that depended on her. What where they to her now but…hinderances. She had what she wished for. What she prayed for. What she cried for, everyone else…could…shall…burn so that she could retain what she had within her arms. As she would look over her shoulder at the shivering pathetic…useless…disgusting…horrible…worthless daughter that she had put so much time and effort in, only for her to be like the rest…a failure.

“Please come closer.” As the book was placed down upon the arm rest of the chair as her hand would pat upon the cushion at her side several times to welcome her. “Come and see your…sister…and bask in her glory.”

Hovering a few feet behind the priestess and the child, Milena feels every bit the unwelcome intruder, contrary to the pleasant words that Miranda recites. Welcome. She has not truly been welcome since she failed -- that much she knows. Crafted by Mother Miranda and tailored to the Lady Dimitrescu, she’s been pulled apart and stuck back together again by both women in near equal measure, but only one of them still looks her way. To the other, she knows that she is a byproduct only. This child, the one perched upon her creator’s lap, this is the goal -- this is the golden child, this is what her aspiration has been all along. And it shouldn’t do, but she has to admit that it stings to have had her humanity stripped from her, to have had everything put on the line, only to be discarded as though none of it ever mattered a bit.

The girl hesitates. Sister. The word feels bitter in the back of her throat, wrenching upwards like bile. She’d had sisters, once -- real ones. Brothers, too. And a father. And a mother worth one thousand Mirandas. This, the scene that she has just walked in on, is as much of a farce as the rest of the ‘family unit’ that the priestess had built up around herself. It turns her stomach to see it, the baby perched upon her lap. But.

But. She is an obedient creature, still, through and through. In all her years, that is the one thing that has never left her, clinging to her just as much as that sweet girlishness that she has never quite managed to shake, no matter how her eyes betray her true age.

Milena steps forward on knees that feel as though they may collapse, waif-like as she’s always been. As she circles the couch, she catches sight of the expression upon Miranda’s face as she stares at the stolen child and feels as though she may wretch -- that crazed, all-consuming love that she had once turned upon Milena all those years ago; that love which destroys and warps and poisons from the inside out. She’s never been much of a fan of children, but as she gazes upon the changeling’s downy crown, she feels a stab of pity for her -- what sort of a life is this, for a child? A child stolen from its mother, no less. At least she’d had a chance at life before she had been taken.

Perching beside Mother Miranda where she has been urged to, she’s startlingly aware of how much smaller she is than the other woman -- not as starkly so as she is compared to her mistress, of course, but more than enough to make her feel diminutive in every way. She can barely force herself to look at the child as she sits beside them, shying away from the two of them as though frightened that either of them might touch her.

“Oh, Mother...” she whispers fretfully, and again, she remembers the long-gone instances when all Miranda had wanted had been to hear that title from her. “What have you done..?”

#fallesto

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moonbeamwritings · 4 years ago

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street light serenade

Summary: Unable to sleep, you call up a certain mangaka for company, convincing him to drive around Morioh with you in the dead of night. What comes next exposes much more than what his most recent draft is focused on.

Author’s Note: Rohan simps come get y’all juice 🗣️🗣️ I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think!!

Sleep eluded you, as it often did when you were overwhelmed with university work, tossing and turning for hours on end as your mind swirled with all of the assignments you were too worn out to finish. It was nearing twelve o’clock and you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up a pencil or read any more academic journals.

Finally deciding to just get up and move around, you ventured down the hallway and out into the kitchen. A cup of tea could do some good, you thought.

With the tea kettle on the stove, you hopped up onto your counter, mind reeling with other ways you could get yourself to fall asleep. You could go for a walk, watch tv, or listen to music. Maybe going for a drive could help alleviate the stress crowding your brain.

As the kettle began to hiss, your mind was made up. A drive around Morioh sounded perfect, but one question remained. Should you go on your own?

Without a second thought, you pulled your phone from the wall, eagerly dialing the number of the only person you thought would be awake at this hour.

Rohan Kishibe.

It took a few moments for him to answer, casting doubt on the possibility of your plan coming to fruition.

“What do you want?” His voice was sharp and biting, clearly not thrilled about being pulled from whatever he was doing.

“Hello to you too, Rohan. Do you want to come for a drive with me? I can’t sleep.”

Rohan’s response was immediate, sparing you no kind words or easy let-downs, “No.”

“Come on, please. I’ll pick you up! You don’t even have to do anything!” You knew you were beginning to grovel, trying to sway him to indulge your midnight whims, but you didn’t care.

“I’m not getting caught dead in that tin can you call a car.”

“Some of us have student loans to pay off, you know. Plus, who would see you anyway?”

You could hear him scoff through the phone, a short judgmental sound followed by a few long moments of silence. As soon as you thought he had hung up on you, he spoke, “I’ll pick you up in five minutes. If you’re not ready, I’m going home.”

A click sounded before you could get a word in. He was such a pain in the ass.

Rohan wasn’t easy to like, or easy to get along with, and he knew that, but you searched for his company often, asking him to coffee or lunch or stopping by to give him a new book he could use for research. At first, he would roll his eyes and scoff at your presence, annoyed at the prospect of someone so wholeheartedly thrusting themselves into his quiet little life. However, as time went on, he began to crave conversations with you, though he would never admit it.

So when you called, practically begging him to go for a drive, he couldn’t really say no, despite the apathetic lilt to his voice. Reluctantly, he pushed away from his desk, gathered his keys, and headed out. He would indulge you, if only just this once.

With your teacup long since forgotten, you raced around your home, throwing a comfy sweatshirt over your head and slipping into your shoes. Casting one final glance at yourself in the mirror, you lept out the front door, seconds after Rohan pulled up.

Plopping yourself into his passenger seat, you let out an excited greeting.

“You’re far too energetic for this time of night.” He replied, hand reaching across the gap to land on the back of your chair as he backed out of your driveway.

“What?” You whined, pouting at his tone. “Car rides are fun!”

“You sound like a dog.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

The car fell silent as he began to drive, taking random turns and heading in whatever direction he pleased.

You brought a hand up to the radio, fiddling with the dials and buttons until you landed on your favorite station. You lowered the volume, sending the music into the background, rather than allowing it to ruin the calm energy in the car.

Rohan glanced over at you every so often, admiring the ways that the street lights mixed as they sped by, molding together to cast interesting shadows along your face.

The whole experience felt almost surreal in a sense, traveling through liminal spaces as some silly pop song played softly through the speakers. Just the two of you, the street lights, and the rumble of the car.

After another turn, you began to ask Rohan more about his life. What motivated him, what he was currently working on, when he was traveling again. Every question on your mind seemed to pass your lips, eager to become closer to the man that tried so hard to keep you at arm’s length.

He humored you, of course, but not without little complaints and jests, “You working for a gossip magazine or something?”

“No, I just want to get to know you. That’s all.”

Your response made something tighten in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had shown genuine, unmotivated interests in his thoughts and feelings. He was so used to the same questions, people entertaining his presence in order to weasel their way in, hoping to get some money or fame through his friendship.

You were different, a welcomed change.

When you exhausted your questions, he picked his own. How were your studies going, did you have anything lined up for once you graduated, what had you so worked up you couldn’t sleep. If you were going to know more about him, then he would like to return the favor.

Growing tired of taking the same turns, Rohan directed your little mission to a scenic overlook, angling the car so you could both stare out at the ocean.

It was peaceful, sitting under the light of the moon with you, watching as it bounced off the waves below, creating swirling patterns of dark sea and pale moonlight.

The orange glow of the streetlight on his side of the car casted a shadow along the side of his face, illuminating his high cheekbones and green eyes. Your eyes traveled down his neck, absorbing the way that same shadow warped against his neck and collar bones. In your eyes, he was rendered ethereal in this light, an untouchable being with an indescribable beauty.

“I didn’t know you had a staring problem.”

He could feel your eyes boring holes into the side of his head and it was starting to bother him. You can’t just stare at people, refusing to utter even a word. It was annoying.

Still so hypnotized by the light playing against his face, you responded without a second thought, “Rohan, you’re beautiful.”

Your words left you both speechless, rendered even more silent following your confession. You were embarrassed beyond words and Rohan was in absolute disbelief.

“What?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Just the,” you floundered, hands rising in falling in a desperate attempt to collect your thoughts, to form some sort of explanation, “the light.”

You cleared your throat, “The light behind you… it’s casting a pretty shadow. That’s all.”

Through your pathetic attempt at deflecting his question, he examined you, turning in his seat to really take you in. The same light casting shadows on him created a perfect beam on your own face, your soft skin and kind eyes on full display. He laughed, the whole situation both ridiculous and welcome at the same time. A mix of literal and subjective interpretations of the phrase “seeing someone in a new light.”

He scoffed, a smirk lighting his face as he pulled you closer, closing the distance created by the center console, “You talk too much.”

With that, he planted his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Your hands came up to trace along his cheekbones while his hand remained on the back of your head.

Rohan wasn’t one to wax poetic about just anyone, that much you knew. So as he pulled away, still holding your head as he began to describe how you looked under the light streaming in from outside, you felt your face warm. The slope of your nose, the curve of your cheeks, the delicate dip of your cupid’s bow, all made beautiful under Rohan’s diligent stare.

When he was finished, he readjusted his position to sit facing forward again with his hands resting on the steering wheel, “You’re alright, I guess.”

That’s the Rohan you knew and loved.

The two of you remained at the overlook for another hour, chatting and listening to music, but as he watched your blinking begin to slow, your eyes begin to grow heavy, Rohan elected to take you home.

As he drove along side streets, passing neighborhoods and businesses, he stretched a hand over to land against your thigh, gently squeezing it every so often.

Maybe he could afford to put this side of himself on display more often, if only for you.

#rohan kishibe x reader #rohan kishibe imagine #rohan x reader #rohan imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years ago

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Being more assertive

“Jaune.” Pyrrha said to him, as she forced him into a corner. “It’s time talked a bit.

Wide-eyed and oblivious Jaune stares at his partner confused. “About what?”

“About your assertiveness. You let people walk over you, and do nothing about it! I’m tired of that. So, I want you to start being more dominate!”

“Dominate?” Jaune ask tilting his head.

Pyrrha rest a hand on her head. “Yes, Jaune. Dominate, assertive, in control, so on and so forth. I need you, for the team of course, haha, to be in more control of your life, so that we, our team doesn’t project a weak image. If we follow someone who lets himself get walk on by everybody, what’s that going to say about Team JNPR?”

Jaune opened his mouth, but then closed it, pursing his lips pensively. He sighs, scratching the back of his head.

“Sorry, Pyr. It’s just hard sometimes, you know? I mean, how am I suppose to be in control when it feels like anybody could come along and say, ‘Why are you following a loser who can’t even fight,’ say I’m not fit to be here? What if nobody listens to me then? How can I get people to work with me, if they don’t respect me?”

Pyrrha lays a hand on Jaune’s shoulder, gently rubbing it. “Don’t think like that Jaune.” She shakes her head. “It’s not like that, strength, combat ability, talent, or semblance, aren’t what define a leader, Jaune. It’s more than that, there’s more to respect a person than how they fight, you could be the best combatant in the world, but a pathetic leader. Being a leader is about confidence, a cool-head, a smidge of empathy, knowing how to bring the best out of people.”

Pyrrha looks Jaune in the eyes, a bold smile on her lips, all teeth. “Traits that I all know you have, just waiting to be brought out, traits I’ve seen before and that you’ll master.” She says making sure to punctuate her words with a strong poke to Jaune’s chest.

A light flush cut across Jaunes cheeks and nose, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed.

Pyrrha watching Jaune’s face had to fight the urge to go wobble in the knees at his cute face.

Then Jaune looked back at Pyrrha, a question in his voice, and his eyes large and curious. “So how do you do it Pyrrha? How do you look so in control all the time.” He asked reverently.

It was Pyrrha turn to feel embarrassed this time, the sheer awe in Jaune’s voice made a her feel warm and hyper-aware of their closeness.

She fought off the feelings and looked Jaune in the eyes. “It’s really an act, actually.”

“An act? Like you pretend to be confident?”

Pyrrha swallowed. “Yeah, it’s like a mask I put on. When I go out and fight, I don’t go out there thinking ‘I’m going to lose and everybody is going to hate me.’ No thinking like that make’s you lose before you even try. Even if I’m nervous and scared, I don’t show it. Part of the reason people don’t respect you is you wear how you feel on your sleeve, people know your scared you fight them, and they press that and make you slip up.”

Jaune felt a light-bulb go off in his head. “If you act confident, people will think you’re confident. It’s not about what I feel, it’s about what I show people!”

Pyrrha clapped her hands together, a smile on her cheeks. “Exactly, that said you don’t have to keep it up all the time. It’s a like mask you slip on and off. Everybody has a mask they put on. People like Yang, Weiss, and I, all have masks we wear.”

Jaune looked amazed, but unbelieving. Wonder how Yang or Weiss, could ever be anything less than powerful or in control. “I almost don’t believe you, but, I guess they’re just people too, aren’t they?”

Pyrrha nods her head. “Yes, they are, but they seem bigger than life, because they act better than life. Though, it’s also only one half of the equation.” “What’s the other half?”

Pyrrha prowled forth, taking long, powerful steps with controlled swings of her body, making Jaune feels smaller than he’d ever felt before in front of Pyrrha. As she loomed over him and put her hand to his chest, she whispered. “Body Language.” A lightly pushed him, but he stumbled back in shock into the wall.

“You can act as confidently as you want, but if you don’t back it up with how you look, you will be called out.”

“Wow. Can you teach me?”

Pyrrha gave him a toothy grin. “I can arrange that.”

-----Two Hour’s later-----

“I think I’m getting it, Pyr!” Jaune said happily, looking more confident than Pyrrha had ever seen him.

“Then show me.” Pyrrha said.

Jaune scratched the back of his head in a slow, deliberate fashion, once again reminding Pyrrha that he absorbed knowledge like sponge absorbed water. He was already incorporating her lesson unwittingly. The idea sent tingles of excitement across her body.

“Alright, I guess I’ll try-, I mean I’ll show you. I’ll prove that I’m not a waste of time.” Jaune said catching his less confident speaking habit, it made Pyrrha want to reach out and comfort him. But she stayed her hand and watched Jaune.

It then happened without warning, as the entire atmosphere surrounding Jaune disappeared, his naturally warm and welcoming aura was gone.

The air grew cold, and the shadow around they seemed to lengthen, as a new aura took form around Jaune, creating something, a very cold, oppressive, and dominating air was molded around Jaune.

Pyrrha started shivering uncontrollably, and felt a dark pit rise in her stomach, as Jaune looked at her his eyes blank and unfeeling, his normally warm blue eyes that carried love like a sun lets out light were replaced by eyes that carried the deep, unfathomable depths of the oceans, carrying storms and weight to crush any man under it’s pressure.

His face was schooled into a blank mask, showing no emotion, none at all, save, but the slightest of smirks, carrying the barest amount of pride. As though he knew something that Pyrrha didn’t, something dangerous and game-changing. What did he know? What didn’t he know?! Did he know how she felt!?

Jaune’s weak posture was gone, changed into a controlled stance, that was relaxed but capable of spring into action at the slightest instance. The difference was enough to feel like whiplash to Pyrrha, ask though watching a puppy turn into a Beo-Wolf.

Then he moved. He wasn’t much fast, no, but the way he moved had changed entirely. Instead of walking around like a very careful bull in a china-ship, he had switched instead to moving as though the world was made for him to walk upon, as though he was the king, and the world was his.

His movements were aggressive, but controlled, calm and sharp, like a storm in a bottle waiting to be uncorked. Jaune wasn’t looking for a fight, but he looked ready and eager.

Jaune stalked forth to Pyrrha, making the girl feel small, her knee’s feeling weak and powerless. She felt the power in her legs leave her, and she feel against the wall, catching herself as she slid down.

A large calloused hand caught her shoulder and pinned her to the wall, as Jaune stared down at her, his form dwarfing her own, a shadow casting down over her face as his deep blue eyes seemed to stare right though her. Pyrrha blush and tried to speak, but no words came out, beside. “Please, be gentle.”

Then Jaune carefully swept a piece of hair off her face, leaning down into her ear whispering in a deep, throaty tone. “Thanks for the lesson, Pyrrha, I hope I met your expectations.”

Pyrrha felt her heart hit a million mile’s per hour, her blood catch fire, and the desperate need for the man in front of her. The stimulus was too much for her though, and she slid to the ground in a blushing, stuttering, unconsciousness mess.

“Huh, I wonder what I did?” Jaune said still wearing his confident mask, pickup up Pyrrha, and walking back to the room, unaware of the effects his new confidence would cause through the night.

AN: Sorry, for the lack of content recently feeling a dull, uncreative and a bit procrastination.

#Jaune Arc #Pyrrha Nikos #Oblivious Jaune

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noladyme · 4 years ago

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The Wife - Chapter 6

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

TW: angst, violence, blood, smut (5131 words)

She didn’t know how much time passed. Robed of her sight, all Rosalind had to depend on, were her other senses; which told her that having sight would probably not make her situation feel better. Moans and screams. The smell of rot, sweat and decay. Trying to only breathe through her nose didn’t work, as she could practically taste the smell in the stale air. Rosalind could not lay down, as the chain attached to the collar was too short; but she could sit. Once in a while, she would feel something running over her feet, and the sound of squeaks let her know that whatever had been tugging at her chemise, was probably a rat.

Rosalind must have blacked out, because one moment, food was the furthest from her mind; but after having shut her eyes for what seemed like only a moment, she was suddenly hungrier than she’d ever been in her life. This was soon aided, as a small hatch at the bottom of the door opened, and a piece of moldy bread was pushed through it. Needing to eat something, she put it in her mouth, and forced herself not to think of the taste.

The cold draft from a crack in the door, and the hushing of the moans outside let her know it was nighttime, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to get some sleep. Her head would drop forwards, jolting her awake from the sudden tug at her neck from the collar. Getting any real rest was impossible, until she found a position – leaning against the wall, and propping her feet up on the door – that let her tilt her head in a way that would not hurt her.

She woke, when the door opened, and Kilroy was staring down at her. “Are we feeling better?”, he asked. She looked up at him with hard eyes. “I want to see my husband”, she rasped. “And I want my wedding ring back". “Apparently not”, Kilroy sighed, and the door was closed again.

Rosalind’s mind was made up. No matter how much he hated her – how little he wanted her – James would not let her stay here, if he knew. She knew his heart better than that, and there was goodness in it; hidden deep down. Just as he would not betray her, if he knew her predicament, she would not betray him. He deserved his freedom; deserved to travel to America. She would not let anyone take that from him, and put him where she was now.

Another cycle of listening to moans and screams, avoiding getting eaten by rats, eating molded bread, and trying to sleep against the wall followed; before the door opened again. This time, it was the large guard; who was holding a bucket. He crouched down in front of her, and ran his finger down her face, and across her dry lips. “Thirsty?”, he asked. She nodded timidly, before he lifted the bucket, and threw the entire content – ice cold, foul smelling water – at her. He closed the door with a laugh. “My husband!”, she screamed at the door.

Screams, rats, bread, sleep. Rosalind was shaking with cold, and her entire body ached. The door opened again, and Kilroy looked down at her. The guard was standing next to him. “Well?”, the doctor said. “James…”, she whispered. Kilroy sighed. “Get her on her feet. Strange wants her”, he muttered.

The guard unfastened the chain from the wall, but left the collar on her neck. He picked her up, and pulled her out of the room. Unable to stand on her own, he dragged her down the hall – making sure to let his fingers wander over her breasts as he did so – and back into the room where she’d first met Strange. He and his associates were waiting there for her, and she was placed in the chair by the table. Strange sat down opposite her again.

“Now… You’ve had a few days to think. Are you any nearer a resolution on how you wish to spend your future?”. She looked at him with drowsy and yet hard eyes. “I want to speak to James. I am not signing anything until I see him”. Strange shook his head, and laughed. “I believe you might actually be mad, Rosalind…”. “It’s Mrs. Delaney… And you will let me see my husband”.

Strange suddenly looked at her with what he clearly thought was an empathetic expression. “He knows you’re here, my dear”, he said. “And he has made no move to come see you”. “You’re lying”, she croaked. “He wouldn’t leave me here… He would try to…”. “He hasn’t. You’re on your own”. He gestured at Wilton, who spread out the document claiming James insane in front of her. “Take your life back. Leave this place, and become a rich woman!”.

Rosalind closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. It was a lie, it had to be. “Put me back in that room. I will never sign those papers”. Strange’s eyes flickered with rage, and Rosalind felt a smile form on her lips. “You’re right. I am mad. Insane beyond belief. And you will never get James, or Nootka Sound; but I’ll tell you what you will get… One day, when you’re sitting in your office, enjoying your tea, and signing papers which send young men as slaves across the ocean, you will feel a sharp sting in your back. When you look behind you, you will see James standing there, his knife dripping with your blood… And that will be the last thing you ever see in your miserable life”.

Her chair was knocked over, and a hard kick was delivered to her ribs from the guard. Strange looked down at her with enraged eyes. The guard yanked at the chain, and she was pulled out of the room by her neck. She held on to the collar with all the strength she had, to avoid being strangled.

Once back in the tiny room, the door was closed, and she was once again alone in the darkness.

---

“How long do you say she’s been in there?”. A familiar voice roused her from her state of unconsciousness. “Four days. She’s a tough one”, she heard Strange reply. “You’re not wrong about that. Let me see her”, Cholmondeley said. “And you’re sure you will be able to convince her?”. “She’s been my patient for many years. Ever since her husband left, and she needed medicines to calm her nerves”.

The door opened, and Cholmondeley crouched in front of her. “Rosalind?”, he whispered, and placed a hand on her cheek. “Rosalind, my dear. Wake up”. She strained to adjust her eyes to the light, and looked at the chemist. His eyes were pained. “Cholmondeley…”, she croaked. “Yes, my dear, it’s me”. He turned to look at the men behind him. “Please, will you let me speak with her in private. I’m convinced…”. “No. All conversation will be supervised”, Strange said. The chemist nodded. “Of course, I understand. But at least release her from that collar”. “The collar stays on, until we have what we need… But let us speak in different accommodations”, Strange said.

The guard released the chain from the wall, and she was once again dragged down the hall; though this time, it was Cholmondeley supporting her weight, and his grasp of her was much gentler than the guards had been.

Once back in the room with the table, Cholmondeley sat down across from her, and took her hand. “Dear, sweet Rosalind…”, he said. “James…”, she whispered; her throat dry and hurting. “He is not here… and he is not coming”. Rosalind’s lips parted, and her breath hitched. “But… He was supposed to come and…”, she whimpered. “I told you”, Strange chuckled. Cholmondeley squeezed her hand, and gave her meaningful look. “Listen to me now, my dear”, he said. “Sir Strange has let me know of your situation here. He is right. You must sign the papers, claiming your husband mad”. Rosalind could no longer hold back tears. “He was supposed to come… Why didn’t he come for me?”.

“Rose! Listen! I am here now…”, Cholmondeley said. Rose. He was there now. Her heart skipped a beat, and she drew in a short, croaking breath. “Sign the papers”. “But…”, she whispered. The chemist held up a hand to halt her. “Become the woman you were before James. You can become Rosalind Beauchamp again. Everything will be alright… Do you understand me?” She swallowed thickly, and nodded. “Yes… I’ll sign them”. Cholmondeley squeezed her hand again. “Good… good. I will be outside the gate to fetch you, when you’re released”. He looked up at Wilton, who once again produced the document for her to sign, and a pen and an ink bottle was placed on the table.

With a shaking hand, Rosalind picked up the pen, and dipped it in ink, before lowering it to the parchment, and signing it, Rosalind Beauchamp. Cholmondeley quickly picked up the document, and blew on the signature, before rolling it up, and handing it to Wilton. “Get the lady something to cover her nakedness, and let her out of that collar”. He nodded at Rosalind, and left the room quickly.

The now grouchy looking guard unlocked the collar, and she was released from it. A dirty coat was produced for her, and two guards she had not seen before entered the room. They got her on her feet, and supported her weight between them. “I’m glad we could finally see eye to eye on this matter, Mrs. Delaney”, Strange said smugly. “As soon as your husband is in custody, I will have our attorneys prepare the papers for you to sign over Nootka Sound to us”. Rosalind gave him a putrid glare. “You are a vile man”, she hissed. “A vile and very rich man”, Strange retorted. “Good day”. The three Company men all left the room.

The two guards half carried her down the filthy hallway, and down a flight of stairs. She was lead through a series of doors, and finally through a courtyard, with a large gate at one end. Here she was pushed through a small door, and out on the street. Cholmondeley stood ready to help her into a carriage, and they drove away from Bedlam in haste.

She’d passed out again, and only woke when they stopped at a building she’d never seen before. The chemist helped her out of the carriage, and through a door. There was a flight of stairs which she could not scale herself, but two very strong and strange looking women lifted her between them, and took her upstairs. She heard singing and glasses clinking against each other, and the five o’clock shadow on one of her helpers let her know she was in a Molly house.

“In here”, a molly with a soft voice said, and she was taken to a warm room, which smelled like gin and perfume. Here, she was laid down on the bed. The molly sat down on the edge of the bed, and moved a lock of hair from her face. Cholmondeley stood at the foot of the bed. “Godfrey is trustworthy…”, he said, and nodded towards the molly. “Where is he?”, the molly asked. “On his way”, the chemist replied. He walked over to Rosalind and took her hand. “Now, are we friends?”, he smiled. Rosalind nodded, and tried to smile. “Thank you…”, she whispered. He took her hand and kissed it. “I must go. I’m glad you’re safe”, he said, and quietly left the room.

“Sleep now”, the molly said softly. “Sleep…”. Rosalind closed her eyes, and drifted off.

---

She woke to the sound of what she thought was thunder, but turned out to be the sound of boots, when James slammed the door open, and stomped in to the room. His eyes were wide, and he looked like he was seeing a ghost. The molly, who had been seated in a chair by the bed, stood up, and put a hand on his arm. “She’s weak. I don’t think they’ve been…”. “Leave us”, James demanded. The molly went towards the door. James let out a grunt, before turning his head slightly. “Godders… Thank you”. The molly nodded, and smiled a little, before leaving the room and closing the door.

Rosalind tried to sit up, but found herself too weak to do so. James came to sit on the edge of the bed, and looked her over. His fingertips ghosted her wrists, where he could see bruising from where the Company men had held her down. He clenched his fists for a moment, before putting his arms around her, and pulling her up to sit. She whimpered in pain, when his hand brushed against her side. “What did they do to you…?”, James said, and pulled his hand away from the spot. “I’m fine…”, she lied. He raised his brows at her in disbelief, and gently lowered her back onto the pillow. “You are not that good an actress”, he said. “You’ve been starved and seemingly beaten…”. “Please, stop”, Rosalind pleaded.

He took her left hand, and stroked her knuckles, pausing at her left ring finger. “There was a doctor there… Kilroy. He took my ring”, Rosalind said. “I want it back. I’d like to have at least that…”. “You will have it back. I promise”, James said, before lifting her chin slightly, and looking at the bruises on her neck. “A collar…”, she whispered. “Some guard… I don’t know his name. He chained me by the neck, and… put his hands on me”. James tensed up. “I will handle it”, he grunted.

His fingers ghosted the bruises on her wrists. “They had a document… I wouldn’t sign it”. “I know”, he said. Rosalind felt a smile tug at her lips. “I suppose I should always assume you know”, she said. “So, why did you not come for me sooner?”. There was a trace of hurt in her voice. “I don’t know everything”, he admitted. “I thought you left. It wasn’t until Godders came to me yesterday, and told me Geary had taken you, and handed you over to the Company”. “Godders?”. “Godfrey”, he said, and gazed towards the door. “Hmm. He’s a clerk at the Company”. “When he told you, you sent Cholmondeley for me. Now, will they come for him?”. “They won’t find him. He is working on a project which will give me my safe passage; well away from London".

He shook his head at her. “Four days… Why didn’t you sign the document before?”, he asked. “You know why…”, Rosalind replied. James looked down. “Will you be able to leave now? After I did…?”. “Hmm, if you did as Cholmondeley said”, James nodded. “The document isn’t legal. It will never hold up in court”. “Good”.

Rosalind looked down at herself, wanting to speak of anything other than James leaving her again. “I’m filthy”, she said. “And hungry”. James got on his feet, and left the room for a moment, before returning with the molly – Godfrey – who was carrying a wash basin and a pitcher. James handed her an apple, and Rosalind bit into it; relishing in the taste of fresh fruit. Godfrey poured some water into the basin, and was about to wet a sponge, when James took it. “I will do it”, he muttered, and Godfrey walked towards the door. “Godfrey…”, Rosalind croaked. The molly-clerk turned to look at her. His wig was slightly crooked, but he looked strangely like an angel, as he stood there in the glow of the candles in the room. “Thank you…”. “You’re welcome”, he replied quietly, and left the room again.

While James wet the sponge, and rolled up his sleeves, Rosalind finished the apple; having devoured it within moments. He took the carcass, and put it away, before sitting on the bed again, and beginning to wash her gently. Before long, Rosalind was dozing off, lulled by the sounds of raunchy songs from down the hall, and James gently washing away the last four days.

---

Just before dawn, James carried Rosalind out of the Molly house, and in to a carriage; before driving them back to Chamber House. She was clean now – James having washed her thoroughly while she slept – though she had bruises both on her body, and on her soul; but she was alive. Without the energy to contemplate her future, she fell in to a deep sleep again, in her own bed.

Pearl woke her up some hours later, with a plate of food and coffee; which she quickly ate and drank. The maid helped her into a robe. The chemise and stay she’d worn in the asylum had been burnt, she was told; as she let Pearl lead her over to the vanity to sit. The maid did up her hair in a braid, and Rosalind smiled warmly at her once she was finished. “Why do you work for Helga? You’re a very good maid, you could be a housekeeper, or…”. “I like working at the tavern. Most of the men are quite nice, and some are really lonely… I like to make them happy”, Pearl said. “So, you want to stay there?”. “Maybe I’ll be a madam someday”, Pearl said with hope in her voice. “Helga’s been training me”. “If that’s what you want, I hope you’ll get it”, Rosalind smiled.

Once she’d gingerly walked downstairs, Brace rushed over to greet her with tears in his eyes. “I was so worried, ma’am”, he said. “I… Thank you, Brace. You’re a good friend”, Rosalind replied. “Where is James?”. “He said he had to fetch you something”, the butler said. He took her elbow, and led her towards the fireplace. “Come sit down. You’ve had a hell of a few days, I’m told”. “You were told right”, Rosalind smiled. “So, what happens now?”, Brace asked, and handed her a glass of brandy. She sat down on the sofa, and took a sip; putting off answering. The dog appeared from somewhere, and rested its head on her feet. Rosalind sighed deeply. “I don’t know”, she admitted. “James is leaving for America, and I will… Well, I suppose I will go back to Mrs. Owen”. Brace obviously disliked her answer, but held his tongue.

After a few hours, Rosalind was growing worried again. At nightfall James had not returned, and she was afraid the Company had found him, and would bring him to Bedlam. She ate her dinner alone with the dog. When he finally returned – his boots covered in mud, and with a hard look on his face – she let out a sigh of relief. James gave the dog a scratch behind the ear.

Rosalind looked at him timidly. “I thought…”, she began, but stopped herself. “Hmm?”, he muttered, and took off his coat and boots; throwing them in a corner of the hallway, before walking over to shove a potato into his mouth. “Never mind. You’re here… They didn’t take you”. “They will come”, James said, after swallowing. “Oh… Then I hope you get your safe passage, so that that you can leave before they do”. “I will have it soon”, he said matter-of-factly, and ran a hand over his face casually. “I finished negotiations with Musgrove two days ago”. Rosalind’s heart dropped. She’d known nothing had changed, that James would still travel to America; and yet his words hit her like a punch to the gut. “I’m happy for you”, she lied. “I’ll retire. Good night”.

As quickly as she could, she scaled the stairs, and went into her room. She pulled out a trunk from under the bed, and winced in pain from the movement. James came in to the room, and took the trunk from her; setting it down next to the bed. “Do not strain yourself. You’re still injured”, he said. He took her arm, and helped her back into bed. “Rest, now…”. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and fluffed the pillow behind her back. “Thank you”, Rosalind said. “Once I am well enough, I will leave. You won’t have to take responsibility for me anymore. You’ll be free…”. “Hmm”, James responded.

He reached into the pocket of his vest, and held out her ring. Rosalind felt a pang of relief mixed with pain go through her heart. “I got you this”, James said. “The doctor was dreadfully sorry, when I took it back. I almost understood his apology through his tears of pain. And the guard won’t be putting his hands on anyone again. Because he’s dead”. Rosalind reached for the ring, but James held on to it, and looked down at the garnet adorning it. “I do love you, Rose. That never stopped”, he said. “I have no regrets about anything I have done in life, save one. Leaving you”. His voice was matter-of-factly, and there was no uncertainty in his eyes. “I will not do it again”.

There they were; the words she’d longed to hear from him, for so long. To hear them with such confidence and assuredness was overwhelming. A shiver went through her body, and Rosalind found it difficult to respond. “Are you staying in England?”, she said quietly, after a moment. “No, that’s not an option. Too many ghosts here”, he said. “But I would like you to come with me to America…”. James gaze was timid, and his voice more gravelly than usual.

Rosalind’s mind raced, but every word she wanted to convey, the many ways she wanted to say yes, would not come out. “You… claimed you had no use for me”, she whispered. “I said I was a bad man, not a clever one”, James said. Rosalind let out a short gasp, and was just about to give her answer, when there was a loud banging on the door. “James Delaney!”, a voice barked. James got on his feet; his body taut. “Stay here”, he said, left the room, and began walking down the stairs.

A thundering of boots entered the house, and angry voices filled the hallway. “James Delaney, we’ve come to take you in to custody”, a voice said. “You are to be admitted to Bethlem Royal Hospital”. “On what grounds?”, James replied calmly. “Because you are a mad man”, a voice Rosalind recognized said. It was Wilton. She got out of the bed as quickly as she could without hurting herself, and pulled her robe closer around her body. From the sounds of feet moving, she could tell they were moving in to the sitting room. She quietly went out onto the second-floor landing, and began moving down the stairs. “And your evidence?”, James said. Once at the bottom of the stairs, she saw that he had seated himself in the chair by the fireplace, looking like having guards from Bedlam in his house was a completely normal occurrence. Brace was standing in the doorway, a worried expression on his face. He rushed over to support her, by taking her arm.

Wilton pulled out the document she’d signed the day before. “I have here an accusation from your wife, stating you have conducted strange rituals, and committed heinous acts against her. The confirmation of said acts to be a sign of insanity has been given by a doctor”. James nodded solemnly. “Hmm. So, my wife signed her name on that document… And her signature is what makes me mad enough to be committed to Bedlam”, he said. “Yes”, Wilton said, with a wry smile.

“I did no such thing”, Rosalind said, pried herself free from Brace’s hold; and gently pushed her way past the guards. She walked over to stand by James, resting a hand on his shoulder. Wilton widened his eyes. “Mrs. Delaney… You are here…”, he said bewilderedly. His eyes travelled down her form; and he seemed flustered at her state of dress and health. Rosalind was well aware that she was not clothed to greet guests of any kind – even the uninvited ones – and she had dark bruises on her wrists and neck, visible over the collar of her robe, and bellow the sleeves. Four days of having been locked up in a small room had made her pale, and the lack of real food had taken a toll on her as well. James gave her a quick, chiding look for not having listened, and stayed upstairs. “And why would my wife not be here; in her home?”, he said. The Company man seemed rattled at the question, but quickly gathered himself. “Well, we were told she would be leaving London with her personal physician”. Raising his brows, and shrugging in a cool manner. “She has no reason to leave, her place is here. With me”. “With a mad man, who abuses her… Mrs. Delaney, really…”.

Rosalind felt her legs begin to give from exhaustion. James quickly got on his feet, and took her arm; letting her sit in his chair. He stroked his fingertips against the back of her neck, and she looked up at him with nothing but love in her eyes. “My husband has never raised his hand to me, and I’ve never put my name on any document which states so”. “But your signature is right here”, Wilton insisted. “You’re mistaken. My name is not on that document”, Rosalind reiterated. James looked out the corner of his eyes at her. Wilton unfolded the parchment, and began reading. “You’ve clearly stated here… Rituals involving bloodletting… bestiality… rape of undersigned…”. “Did I ever rape you, Rose?”, James asked her in a calm tone. “Absolutely not. I’ve only ever had willing intercourse with you, on the many occasions such events have occurred”. She smiled brightly. “Very willing, I might add”. A few of the guards stifled embarrassed grins.

Wilton took a deep breath, and was clearly trying to restrain himself. “You signed it. I was present when you did!”. “You were indeed present when I signed that document”, Rosalind nodded. “In fact, you were one of the men holding me down, as sir Stuart Strange forced the pen into my hand”. James made a sound that was a mix between an angry grunt and a scoff. Rosalind brushed her hand over the bruises on her wrist. “I’m sure we remember the event in very different ways”, Wilton said. “I’m sure we do…”, Rosalind said quietly.

Wilton cleared his throat. “In any case, here it is; in clear lettering. Undersigned hereby declares that what is stated in this document is factual without a doubt. And here is your name; Rosalind… Beauchamp”. Wilton’s face dropped. “This is… You signed this!”. “But not with my name. It’s not legally viable”, Rosalind said. She looked up at her husband. “Did you ever find my ring, my love?”, she asked. James looked at her in wonder. “Hmm…? Yes, it’s here”, he said, and held it out. Rosalind held out her left hand, and James slipped it on her ring finger. His hand lingered there for a moment, before her bent down to brush his lips against her knuckles. Wilton’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard when he saw the ring; knowing where it had come from, and how James had probably retained it.

“Now, gentlemen; if you don’t mind… It is late”, Rosalind said. “And I have had a trying few days. I should like to rest”. A smile ghosted James face, and he looked at the intruding men. “What my wife is trying to say, is get out of our house”. Wilton pointed an angry finger at James and Rosalind. “This will not stand; do you hear me? This is war!”.

He and the guards left the house as quickly as they’d arrived, and Brace locked the door behind them. “I’ll turn in, then”, the butler smiled, and disappeared down towards the kitchen, and his room.

James licked his lips, and nodded. “Hmm”. He turned to face his wife, and studied her face. “Very willingly?” “Well, I… I was trying to…”. Rosalind’s cheeks were burning, and she couldn’t bear looking James in the eyes. He got down on one knee, as he had more than ten years ago, when he asked her to be his wife. “Will you be going with me, then?”. “Yes”, Rosalind smiled. “If you will have me”. “Wife”, James said, and stroked her cheek. “I would be having you right now, if you weren’t recovering and in pain”. Rosalind laughed, but instantly winced from an ache in her ribs. “Perhaps you could take me to bed anyway”, she whimpered. “Without having me…”.

As gently as he could, James scooped his wife into his arms, and carried her upstairs; but just when Rosalind thought he was about to enter her bedroom, he continued up towards the attic. Here, he placed her on the bed, and stripped down to his shirt, before getting under the covers, and swaddling her in his arms. James gently stroked her side, taking care not to put pressure on her ribs. Still, Rosalind gasped at the contact. His expression darkened, and the devil that lived inside him, was beginning to show its face. “You already killed him…”, Rosalind said quietly, not meeting his eyes. “Hmm. Should have kept him alive a bit longer”, James muttered. “The Company will suffer as well”.

Tears began forming in her eyes, and Rosalind took a gasping, painful breath. “I want to forget it…”. “No”, James said, and wiped her tears away. “Don’t forget. Be angry, and let your anger make you stronger”. “I am angry, but I don’t feel strong… I just feel… fear”, she whispered. James tutted at her, and let a smile form on his lips. “Fear does not mean you are not strong. It means you are rational”, he said. He shifted his body slightly, letting Rosalind rest against his shoulder. “You were in danger, and you still are. But you have to accept that fear, and act accordingly”. “As in, stay in this house”, she sighed. “Hmm”, James nodded. When I am not here, I will have my men watching the house and you. Brace is armed, and I want you to carry a…”. “No… I can’t use a pistol; I wouldn’t know how to”. “A knife, then”, he said. Rosalind frowned. “No discussions, my love. You must be able to defend yourself, until we leave”.

Rosalind lit up in a smile. “Say that again…”, she breathed. James squinted down at her. “You must be able to…”. “No… Call me…”. “My love”, James said, and lifted her chin; placing a soft kiss on her lips. “My love…”.

Those were the last words Rosalind heard, before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

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#james delaney #james delaney fic #james delaney x oc #james delaney angst #tom hardy

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