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seemethroughglass · 1 year ago

Text

he’s a fool (you’re just as well)

franken!kyle spencer x reader

word count : 5.1K

warnings : fluff, (underage?) smoking, witches, zombies, witchcraft, dark magic, fainting, cooking, witch!reader, mentions of sex/hard drugs

a/n : this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr so if anything is wonky please lmk 😭😭 this fic was first posted on ao3 if you’d prefer to read it below :)

October 30th, 2013. 3:22 AM.

A faint smell of cigarette smoke and cheap lavender scented room spray slid up into your nose and settled in your lungs, holding your breath until you couldn’t stand to anymore. You were back first on the surprisingly comfortable queen sized bed you shared with the 5’10 rotting man-baby, taking up the tight space on the right side you had while he sprawled his arms out, his fingers flexing and twitching ever so slightly haphazardly while he drooled on the pillow that gave comfort to his skull.

Kyle Spencer was dead, and had been dead for a while, is what Zoe told you. You were the newest addition to Miss Robichaux’s School for Gifted Young Women, this sick fuck of a school. Being here wasn’t anything you’d expect, and certainly wasn’t the worst, but the things you’d do just to go back home and enjoy some time alone. In just two months of being here, Zoe had wordlessly decided that you’d become Kyle’s new babysitter, a tentative decision that made you wonder if you’d ever go back to normal. You were in charge of bathing, changing, and feeding him. When you were expecting to be in a school like this, you never saw yourself soaping up a blond boy ever in your life.

It was frustrating taking care of him, especially when he’d lash out at you for not being able to understand him. Similar to the other witches, you’d use your powers in justification, your telekinesis was second nature to you- as you easily threw him back to walls, or shut doors on him. Once, Zoe offered to keep him chained for a bit, but you declined because ‘it felt inhumane’ (ironically).

But like every other young, feeble, and naive witch in your coven, your powers would fluctuate. Anyone would go crazy if they could suddenly hear every single thought someone would think. The good, the perverse, and the twisted thoughts one could have made you feel sick. You remember walking down aisles of the grocery store with Madison, your whole world suddenly felt abnormal, forced into a ubiquitous position as the faint sounds of peoples brain-vomit spilling out of their heads and into your ears. It got so loud, you couldn’t hear her anymore. You just saw her mouth “coke-head” as she continued her shopping. She couldn’t have given any less care to your dazed and frustrated state.

You didn’t feel safe out there.

You flexed your hands and felt the wrapped cohesive bandage around the flat of your hands, and the cotton fingerless gloves shifting around your hands. You hated how gloves felt around your fingers, and decided to take the risk of accidentally brushing up upon someone and sinking in all of what they know. Divination, is the textbook term, but Fiona just called it ‘a gift and a curse.’ This was also a sudden discovery, one that you were ashamed was only found out during a frat party. Never will you ever shake a man’s hand, who knows if they’ve washed their hands after using the bathroom or not? Thank god you didn’t find out anything else, not that you’d want to afterwards.

And I could go on and on about what you’ve discovered in on your own time. Mind control (which, you’re not skilled at- at all), pyrokenisis, reality warping, the ability to fuck around with any object- it all came in at once, in such a short time. Cordelia explained that it was something that all of the other witches had, but yours were forming at a rapid pace compared to the others. Hearing those words, you then forced yourself to a demure and home-bodied state. You thought, if you stayed at home, less shit goes down. You never knew how much you enjoyed the outside until now.

You could go outside whenever, if you just faced your fears and come to the terms that shit happens. You’re a witch, of course you’re gonna have these fucked up powers that show how fucked up every is, but every time you felt the want to leave, you’d only gaslight yourself into crawling back to your room again.

And… a part of you started to actually believe you didn’t find Kyle a nuisance, because he was the only one who stayed. You could tell he wanted to learn something when he was around you, longingly staring at his iPad as AbcMouse played, asking him how to write words like ‘duck’ and ‘cat’. His hands would stay in place, sometimes twitching, as he thought to himself and hesitantly drew letters on his device. There was a man, trapped in a cold husk. Every word he’d speak to you, it stuck, because you knew he was trying.

Did you see yourself in him? No? Yes? I don’t know.

You felt the need to protect, but not a knight in shining armor I’ll-Kill-Anyone-Who-Fucks-With-You-And-Let-You-Eat-Their-Brains-Afterwards protect. The kind of protect that had you letting him sleep inside your room for the night, because you knew if you didn’t then Madison would just push herself on and sleep with him again. Being a witch has shown you the evils of this world, as if the devil let you put 3d goggles on and see every disgusting perspective of others. Remember that one quote that goes something like… “While we are humans, we are animals”?

You felt him stir around in your bed again, the fleshy tip of his nose resting on your sleeved forearm. You started to wonder when he’d move aside, considering he was plumped on a good chunk of your bed. He served no purpose on your bed either, feeling like a cold, rubbery, chunk of meat nuzzling into your warmer skin. Honestly, he was kind of a waste of air, not that you envied him for it though. It made you think, what could he end up being, other than a sex doll or a servant? Everyone thought he was dead, but certainly you can get a job with no ID, no degree, and a high temper, yes?

Okay, right now he *might* be in a tight spot, but hell- you never know. You felt him moving around again, deciding to face him as he shifted his way closer to you, smelling the fabric surrounding your arm. You couldn’t tell if he was awake or not, watching him carefully to see if he’d move again, and once again he did. His eyes fluttered open a bit, before tightly shutting them and taking a deep breath, taking a peek from his rotting eyelids to see your face looking back at his.

This was an unusual morning (or night?) routine from him, because he wasn’t supposed to wake up at this hour. Perhaps the sudden body heat he felt from you awoke him? Doesn’t matter, now he’s awake, and it’s your responsibility to keep him tight lipped and busy until the sun rises. Shit, did you even realize that he was staring at you?

“Kyle… go back to sleep.” You whispered, lightly pushing his head upwards and away from your body. His eyebrows raised up a bit, reacting to your sentence, which sounded like gibberish due to his still drowsy state. You could’ve just talked to a brick wall instead, though, because all he did was prop himself up on the bed and look around. Kyle nodded, looking away from you before moaning a “Mm.. mmn..” for you. He struggled with his words for a minute and then managed to make out a “Mmh-morning.”

You shook your head, wanting to immediately cut the shit short and to tell him to just go back to sleep. But, men (or, zombies in particular) are stubborn and once he was awake, he was gonna stay awake. You internally cursed yourself before mirroring his movements and sitting up yourself, pulling on the comforter to cover yourself as you nodded, wiping your face. “Morning, Ky.” You sighed out, nodding.

You and Kyle usually did your morning routine together, so even though you did stay up all night and you knew it was only a matter of time until you’d fall asleep, you brushed your teeth with him. I guess coffee could keep you awake until 9, right? It was fairly difficult trying to keep him quiet while you brushed his hair and made him breakfast, but the more you talked, the more he took the time to listen.

“Ky, tell me which one you want.” You asked, putting down a carton of eggs on one side of the dinner table and a box of Belgian waffle mix on the other. He took his time, you thought he was going to pick the waffles when he turned to them, but you were a little taken aback when he shook his head. Your instincts made you want to protest, but once you saw his mouth open a bit, you let him try and mumble out his words.

“M…muh…”

“Macaroni?”

He shook his head, got it.

“Mm..hhheaat.”

If Nan was awake, she’d hear you think, “Who the fuck eats steak for breakfast?” until you realized that he was probably talking about bacon.

“Mm, bacon?”

You got back a copacetic nod from him, his breathing quickening up from excitement. You weren’t just going to give him bacon, so you decided to stick with some eggs and toast to go with it too, something the both of you could eat. You fetched the bacon from the freezer and eggs, butter, and bread from the fridge. Kyle kept his eyes on you, not having anything else to distract him with currently. You stayed quiet, indulged in your task of whisking the eggs in a bowl as you heard him try and communicate with you again. You stayed patient, with the mumbling coming from his mouth, but you could tell he felt more confident in this moment.

“Drink, orange.” He asked, looking around the kitchen to see if he could spot anything else to ask for. You turned around, shaking your head at him, “Orange… what, Ky?” you questioned, wanting him to try and finish his sentence. He looked back at your frame, letting out an unsatisfied sigh. “Orange.. jjjuice?” He responded, humming questionably. You turned to him briefly, nodding and pointing at the frying pan. “When I’m done, I’ll give you it, ‘Kay?”

He groaned out, suddenly balling his fist and hitting his thigh, shaking his head. It was way too early (or too late?) for Kyle to be getting upset, as he whimpered out a “N-no! Want- mmh..” to you. “Drink! Orange..! Mm, juice!”

“Kyle, no hitting!” You hissed back at him, letting the frying pan heat up on the open fire. “You use your words, hitting isn’t good.”

You watched as his facial expression softened, following his fists as he rested them back on the table, you could’ve sworn his lips shifted into a slight pout, but he nodded to you, making you realize that he never truly learned how to apologize.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“Mmhn..?”

The first time he tried to fight with you, was unforgettable, because it was the same day you had decided to voluntarily keep yourself locked inside the academy. You were just trying to change him, and get him ready for what would become his daily walk, but once you had him stripped to just his jeans and socks, he reacted. You weren’t able to take his jeans off, the minute you were trying to get his buckle off, it’s like realization had hit him. A push and a series of blows to your arms had you covered in hurt and bruises, the room was now episode 8 of a soap opera. God knows why you let him hit you for so long, did you forget you were a witch for a minute? Whatever, Madison wasted no time on flicking him off with whatever supernatural powers she had, his back meeting a wall quick. You felt bad, he didn’t really know any better. You’d start wrestling with anyone if they tried to take your pants off.

Now that you’re thinking about it, how’d she get up those stairs so quick? Isn’t she usually downstairs smoking a cigarette? Speaking of cigarettes, fuck, the smell of this house is starting to get to you.

Ten-ish minutes had passed, and there you were, plating the meal on a large plate that you and Kyle could share. Perks of being a witch? You can just enchant your bacon to defrost in seconds. Usually, Kyle would finish all of his food, but one time he noticed that if he didn’t finish, you’d be eating his plate instead of sticking with just coffee. It’s probably the reason he eats less, honestly, and you can’t really force him to finish all of his food anymore. I guess it’s something you two have silently agreed on, like mutualism. You poured yourself some coffee from the coffee pot, and in another plastic cup you poured orange juice into, for him. It was plastic, in case if he tried to throw it at you… like he did to Zoe (and, to be honest, that shit was hilarious when he missed and hit Queenie).

You don’t talk to him in the morning, you just sit there and watch him watch some Cocomelon, but right now the both of you can’t afford to make any sort of noise. A cranky witch is equivalent to an embarrassed boy, both can end up terribly. Still, it left you bored. There was nothing to talk about, because you can’t really keep up a conversation with someone like Kyle. Your phone was left upstairs, and you didn’t want to go back in fear of Kyle crying out for you and making noise, because it was dark and the only thing giving out light was the chandelier above the both of your heads. I mean, you could teach Kyle some basic vocabulary, but is that really something he was capable of doing while he scarfed down a piece of toast? Wait, wasn’t he supposed to apologize to you earlier? Maybe you can start up something with that.

You watched him chew on a large piece of toast, sending a few blinks in his direction as he paid no mind to you. Trying to get his attention, and prevent him from choking, you pushed the orange juice closer to him. Your nonverbal communication got to him, as he glanced back up to you and then looked down and took a sip from the glass. You waited until his mouth was empty to speak.

“Kyle?”

He looked back up at you, his eyebrows raising up again. He hummed, waiting for you to say something.

“…We don’t hit things in this house, unless someone else is hitting us, right?”

He blinked, his eyes slanting a bit, was he starting to get mad again? He nodded slowly, taking another sip of his drink. “Yes.” He responded with, there was absolutely no stutter or hesitation in his voice, maybe the others had already tried to educate him on that?

“Do you know what sorry means, Kyle?”

Once again, brickwalled. Jesus, what a poker-face. Maybe this is why people want to be a mind reader, hm? You had never felt scared of him before, and still hadn’t, but this interaction definitely made you tense up a bit. He could be a hell of a guard dog. God, you’re starting to sweat, calm down. Enough thinking to yourself, get to the point, because he’s obviously not gonna give you an answer.

“You know… when you do something bad, and it hurts people? It makes you… feel bad?” You asked, inhaling. He quickly nodded, sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. You nodded with him, deciding to ease up and take a sip of your coffee. A couple seconds of silence passed, and then you spoke again. “You say sorry, when you do bad things. I want you to say sorry.”

From an outsiders point of view (specifically Fiona, you could just picture it) they’d be laughing at the awkwardness of this conversation. Kyle didn’t know what awkward was, though. He took every word you said like it was, nothing felt personal to him. It gave you comfort, he had no high ego that could make him feel bad. Sure, he’s sensitive, but he had morals and a decent level of understanding like you did. Let me ask you again, did you see yourself in him? Someone who was once normal, thinking they had known enough, now forced to start from the top and had to adapt to what they had now. Shit, is that why you had to take care of him?

Naaah, you’re just overthinking it.

“Suh… orry. Sorry.”

“Good! You said it.”

“Mmhm..! Sorry!”

The difference between you and him? He was a quick learner. You, on the other hand, didn’t want to learn. You wanted to be normal, or at least control what you had (well, actually, doesn’t he want to also?). I mean, it’s been a while since you’ve tried controlling your own powers. It felt better helping him than helping yourself, hasn’t it? I don’t blame you, teaching someone basic math is muuuuch easier than trying to figure out how to make your bed float.

Kyle went back to eating after his successful lecture from the oh-so greatest but stopped after he finished his orange juice. There was still a bit on the plate, a piece of toast and a piece of bacon to be exact, as he looked up at you and then glanced back at the plate. “D…done.” He stated, grinning softly at you. He knew you were going to take the rest and finish it, and that’s exactly what you did. You nodded back at his words as you ripped the toast in half, chewing on your piece. For a dead guy, he’s pretty considerate. Makes you wonder how he was when he was alive, to be honest.

I think… you’ve only heard mentions of Kyle on the news, only when he had died. Words like… sweet, and caring, and friendly were on his memorial outside of that frat house. Shit, what was that frat’s name again? Kappa… whatever, they’re all the same, honestly. Maybe you’ll ask Zoe when she wakes up, I mean, she did bring him here.

After finishing the scraps that Kyle had left you, it was time to go back into your room. You didn’t hold Kyle’s hands up the stairs, you let him walk first, just to see if he could control his mobility first. You felt like you were starting to sweat, anyways. He stopped walking after a couple of steps and turned around to face you, only walking up again when you silently urged him to keep going up. It seemed like he got a bit weirded out by the fact that you weren’t walking up with him, he must’ve gotten used to holding onto you. Aww.

4:38 AM.

This should be about the time Cordelia wakes up, and starts working on whatever potion she has in her laboratory. Kyle was occupied with… himself, actually. He had discarded the iPad earlier, seemingly grown bored of AbcMouse and instead laying on his side, tracing unintelligible patterns on the hard wooden floor. He must be thinking to himself, you imagined. You were sitting on your bed next to an open window, starting to feel sick from the house-air. Did someone smoke, or was everything feeling nauseous to you? Ugh, you decided to start fanning yourself with your own hand.

You glanced back at Kyle, watching as his index finger dragged along the floor, collecting dust and a smidge of dirt from the floor onto his fingertip. You look a long sigh, spacing out and no longer focused on Kyle, just whatever he was trying to accomplish with his finger. K… X… L… E. Wait, that must’ve been a Y then? He was spelling his name, simply reminding himself. It felt good knowing that whatever he was learning on that device was working, but once you took another breath, your sliver of happiness faded with the smell. God… it felt like it was getting stronger.

There’s definitely something wrong in this school.

You didn’t have to wait longer to make up your mind, you had to go outside. Shuffling around and closing the window for caution of bugs getting in while you were gone, you set your bookmark in your book and slid off the bed. You tapped Kyle with your foot, raising your eyebrows and speaking a bit more faster. Your stomach felt… uncomfortable.

“Ky, cmon. We’re gonna go for a walk.”

“Mm?”

You didn’t have time to explain to him, but a part of you knew that he understood you. He’s not that… what’s the word? You pulled up your gloves and held your shielded hand out, trying to help him up. He groggily pulled himself up, following closely behind you with his hand sliding up to connect to the crook of your clothed arm. You walked down the stairs with him, hearing a faint whisper around the school. Cordelia… was awake? But why would she be near the living room?

When you peeked your head to look in the living room, she wasn’t there.

And when you walked around with Kyle, trying to find her to see what she could be muttering about, nothing. Odd, you decided to walk around more, but the more you wandered around you only felt more sick. Your little steps became into large, rushed power-walking steps. Something was wrong, if you couldn’t tell now. You went to her office, which was usually tidy and salubrious but seemed to be that she was working on something, at least you finally found her. The smallest amount of rational thought in your mind told you to not run outside of the house, but instead find her and ask her for some Advil or Tylenol, this had to be a migraine.

“Misty Day’s reincarnation might be a good help with this… if only she wa- what was that?”

Cordelia’s voice got louder as you stumbled into her office, she immediately turned to you, puzzled by your off-colored face and the sweat rolling down your forehead. She stayed quiet, letting you speak first. It was only then, you realized something.

“Why is Kyle here?”

But Cordelia’s mouth wasn’t moving. She wasn’t even talking.

I can’t really explain how you look like… but a good word is stunned. You stood there, looking around the area a bit as you fanned yourself with your free hand. Kyle was still behind you, his hand feeling up on the black woolen arm warmer you had on.

“Cordelia… ohmyfuckinggod..”

“Yes, dear?”

“Why is she awake? Go to bed. Why is Kyle here? Will nobody that boy alone, for fucks sake?”

You scoffed, a tad offended by her unspoken words. You wiped your forehead, shaking your head. “Something’s happening… Cordelia. Fuck, you’re so loud.” You breathily announced, letting go of Kyle and wiping your eyes. Your stomach started to hurt more, Jesus- you felt like you were about to throw up.

“I’m sorry?”

You walked over to her, discarding Kyle and his starstruck face as he looked around at the pretty colors and herbs around Cordelia’s little coven. For him, this was definitely a sight to see, getting a good look instead of crying over his new body parted tattoos, curtsey of his deceased friends. You stood in front of her, a hand placed on your stomach as you spoke, the acrimony rushing through your veins.

“The- the mind reading stuff. I can hear you… oh mygod- How do I make it stop? Fuck- my stomach hurts so much, ohmygod..”

And as her hand came to your clothed shoulder, she looked at you in the eyes with a concerned stare. “You’re hearing things again? Come here, sit down.”

She took you by the shoulder, walking you to a small wooden stool from the side of the room. Kyle, distracted by the sudden movement of you two, followed you closely once again.

“Cmhere, let me check your temperature.”

She took her hand up, and as her hand came up to your forehead, you felt your world burning around you and coming to a close. The heat was too much for you, and once her hand made contact with your bare skin, it went dark.

Well… not exactly dark.

5:12 AM.

Fuuuuuuck.

You must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the… couch?

Too early for jokes? Okay, sorry.

Your forehead felt completely cold, your drowsy eyes registering that you were staring up at the ceiling. Ugh, how long has it been? You brung your fingertips carefully up to your head, feeling on the rough ice pack on your forehead. When you pulled it off and placed it on the floor, you came to realize it was just frozen peas. Classic, actually- super fucking funny. You half-laughed, a closed mouthed smile forming on your face. Right… Cordelia must’ve put that on you. Where was she?

A sudden realization came to you, Cordelia touched your forehead. Shit, you’re supposed to know something, right? That mind reading thing that you have… what can you remember?

“…Cordeliaaa?” You called out, wondering where she was. Suddenly, a little- well, more like big- blonde guy popped up from behind the couch, squeaking a bit from your voice. You turned around, looking behind the couch and feeling surprised once you realized that Kyle was just behind the couch. He was sitting up now, with a cup of… sweet tea? He turned to you, his nose crinkling with his grin as the male cheered your name out, a sugary tone to his voice. He wiped his eye with the side of his hand, making it evident that he had been asleep also. He picked up the sweet tea from the ground, standing up and looking down at you, handing you the cup. The ice cubes in the drink had shrunken, almost barely noticeable.

“Hi, drink!” He chirped, watching you take the drink and take a sip out of it. Damn, not bad. You silently thanked him, the ineffable act of him waiting for you left you a little too speechless for your liking. You cleared your throat, speaking up. “Thanks, Ky’” You murmured, unable to hide the corners of your mouth turning upwards. “Your welh-welcome.” He replied, nodding. You placed the sweet tea on the table, exhaling out of your nose. He walked over to your side, away from the back of the couch, trying to help you up. You put your hands on his shoulders, shaking your head. “No… nah- I’m good. I’m gonna… sit down still.”

You heard Kyle think “Why?” as he stared at you for a bit, but he nodded and left you alone. He lowered himself to the ground, flinching once he had accidentally made contact with the peas. “Cordelia?” You called out again, turning away to the sound of her footsteps walking up to you. Her eyebrows were raised, and her arms were up in an… almost defensive state? She crossed her arms, calming down and lightly rubbing her right bicep with her left thumb. She spoke your name in a effervescent way, relieved to see you awake.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” You asked, referring to her anxious thought. You could tell she was trying to not think as much, whispering to herself before shaking her head. “Nothing… um- actually, I need to know, what did you… see?” She prevaricated, running her fingers through her hair. You looked down, thinking to yourself a bit and then back at her. Suddenly, your eyebrows knitted into realization, looking back up at her.

“Did you… toss the coffees I made for you?”

Cordelia stood there, also looking dumbfounded by your conclusion. She smiled, nodding. There was no point in lying anymore, I mean- you already knew. She sighed in relief, chuckling.

“Okay… yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Dude- I thought you liked my coffee.”

She ignored your words, walking over to you and putting a hand on the inside arm of the couch. “I’m glad you’re okay. I did some… tests- and, um, I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine for now.” She expressed, feeling a little more confident as she spoke. “Just… don’t stay cooped up in this house. I know your powers are getting stronger, but you’re probably dealing with some major stress.” All you could do was nod, biting the inside of your cheek. She nodded back at you, pulling her hand away from the coffee and walking backwards for a bit, turning away.

“Delia.”

She turned back, raising her eyebrows. “Pleaaaase don’t ask me.“ She mentally spoke to herself, leaving you to close your eyes for a brief moment, but you brushed her thought aside.

“Uh… why… don’t you like my coffee?”

“I’m a tea person.”

“Oh… crap.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” She spoke, walking out of the room. You sighed, your attention going back to Kyle, who was once again tracing patterns on the floor. He glanced up at you, pausing his actions and deciding to rest his cheek on the couch. He blinked at you a bit, expecting you to say something. You placed a hand on his scalp, moving around his bed (well, floor) hair to make it look more neater.

“So nice…” His blissful expression matched his imagination, shuffling closer to let you touch his hair. Your fingers stayed still while in his blonde locks, sighing. You definitely didn’t expect him to think that, but you definitely weren’t opposed to it. You carried on, carefully grooming him some more. Your brain went blank, not really worried on what was going to happen next or what you had to do later today. Just you, fixing a zombie’s hair, while the sun was getting ready to rise up and shine on you. Just complete nirvana. You pulled your hand back, wondering if there was anything else to smooth out or tuck away. Kyle looked up at you, probably expecting the same thing.

“So pretty.”

Oh.

You couldn’t help but smile, keeping your eyes on him as his soulless eyes crinkled with his crooked smile. You blinked, and then cheerfully sighed.

“Thanks.”

Kyle nodded, grabbing your hand and then putting it back on his head. Wait… he grabbed your hand? Damn, you couldn’t see anything about him, guess it must’ve went away…

Or, maybe, he just didn’t hide anything from you?

You’ll just have to poke Cordelia again to see why.

#kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer x you #kyle spencer x y/n #ahs #ahs coven #frankenwrites

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vwbugggie · 1 year ago

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Just thinking about - researching cases with Sam in a packed, loud, bar/club because Dean wanted to come to try to find a girl that is somewhat interested in him, while throughout the night I get more and more unbearable to be with as I’m getting increasingly (but below the surface) more jealous of the girl that gave Dean her number.

Then Sam is just flicking through john’s (🤢) journal being like: 🙄 “where is the info on this evil spirit” even though this smart ass man has all the knowledge of the earth in his head.

And then I’m sitting beside him, chugging some OJ with a newspaper in front of me, tapping my foot on the floor like: 😤 “Dean has been gone for half an our, and is necking down shots while im stuck here in this LOUD ASS ROOM which is blasting Nelly” (Im not complaining because Nelly is so fab, but I’d rather not be researching, but it’s necessary because who else is gonna do it?)

Sam would just be staring me out, he defo knows im agitated. 🧑‍🏫 “Hey. Read.”

SASSY KING.

Thought you’d appreciate this scenario pre-love confession, that has been rotting my brain <3

-SPN#2

Yes yes yes

I love it!!!!!

I think of a similar situation but because I’m a little shit I end up giving Dean a taste of his own medicine. Because jealous Dean is so 😚.

At one point I’d have enough and go find Dean from a distance of course so that he doesn’t see me yet. The walk right into his line of vision and start flirting with the first guy I see just to see Deans reaction. Cuz we know Dean’s just a little bit of a hot head.

If you have any other scenarios you wanna share I am respectfully asking you to please do <33333

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shiftinconsciousness #shifting #shifting community #quantum jumping #shifters #shifting realities #reality shift #shifting to supernatural

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pokomumee · 1 month ago

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@dimplesandfierceeyes Thank you so much for tagging me. I think I can run this thread into the ground all by myself because this brain rot has been rotting my brain 24/7 for the past 5 months. Pran giving up control, letting loose with Pat around because he can, and because Pat is going to makes sure to take care of Pran, because they will take care of each other…yep.

So please have a part of my slightly smutty fic as part of this thread for now. It’s Pat’s POV, but Pran will probably sharing his piece soon, too.

):)

Anyway, Pat’s actual point is, it never comes as a surprise that Pran’d also like to be in control in bed, which, by the way, Pat finds really really hot. Pran can get pretty bossy in bed, and that’s putting it lightly.

Doesn’t matter if he is topping or bottoming, Pran has the unique ability to get Pat to do whatever he wants, exactly the way he wants, just by looking at Pat a certain way that he knows would turn Pat into putty in his hands. Sometimes Pran’d even just resort to giving Pat the pointers before they start the deed. Pat isn’t complaining, no sir, absolutely not. It’s sex with Pran so it’s always going to be good, mind scorchingly good.

Pat loves having Pran have his ways with him, all confident and commanding in bed. It’s so sexy and satisfies something primal within Pat that needs to know he’s giving Pran what he wants, being what Pran needs.

You’d think Pran is so prim and proper, he’d be vanilla in bed, right? Think again.

Compared to Pran, Pat’s the vanilla one, vegan version, low fat, low sugar. His Pran is a man’s man and a minx all wrapped into one, it makes Pat salivate just thinking about it.

But then there is also another version of Pran that Pat had come to notice in bits and pieces a year or two into their relationship. This is the Pran who sometimes desperately needs to loosen the white-knuckled grip he uses to hold onto everything in life, get out of his own head and let go just for a bit. And by a bit, Pat means a lot.

Back then, when school work became too much or the stress of life overall became straining, Pat really wished he could do more for Pran. But Pran’d always been so independent and capable, and he’d try to deal with everything himself, only coming to Pat when he thought everything was under control. Pat really wanted to share the stress, wished Pran would let him help take over some of the burden.

More than anything, Pat just wanted to be able to take care of Pran, let him know it was alright to let go of the control with Pat.

Pran, of course, had never said anything outright, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he needed. An engineer who loved and cared about him so much it was difficult to breathe sometimes could probably work it out. Which, yeah, Pat totally fit the bill.

It wasn’t as if Pat was actively looking for a way to make Pran lose control, because, no, that’d be weird and counterproductive. But he'd often wonder how he could help Pran to maybe relax a little more, feel the need to always be in control a little less.

He'd be willing to do anything.

Pat just really wanted to take care of Pran in any way possible.

He hadn’t actually expected that one of the ways that he could get Pran to ease up the control would actually be with sex. Pat’s no prude, no one would mistake him for one, so looking back it shouldn’t have surprised him. But, yeah.

Yeah.

):)

more on ao3 if anyone is so inclined ):)

Hi hello, a bad buddy thought a day will keep the doctor away and the brain rot will continue!

Bad Buddy Thought Of The Day: Pran is fiercely independent and needs no help. He CAN do things on his own and he WILL do it too! Except when Pat enters the scene. Because Pat is his exception. Pat is his rock he can rely on when being fiercely independent and competent is just exhausting or just makes him sad. He has Pat and he can hide in his arms and his back or just listen to his voice and he knows. There is someone out there to hold my hand and give me strength.

Anon, you are so correct! BB keeps us all healthy (ignore those brain scan results, it's fine, it's fine)

The weight of his parents' expectations was exhausting. Attending club after club, cram school after cram school, always fighting for top place—he could feel his grip on it all boughing under the the pressure. He wondered how long it would take him to snap.

But then came the river.

And slowly, slowly, Pat reached out a hand to help him hold it all up, and in return, Pran reached out to help carry his burden as well. It didn't change the weight, but it was easier when they could share the load. Essays, tests, match days, competitions, music lessons, each slotted into a careful tally of wins and losses negotiated to keep everyone happy.

And that left time for the silly, for the fun, for the ridiculous. How fast can you run up those stairs? How many sweets can you eat in 30 seconds? How long can you hold your breath?

And somehow, the competing became fun, became something to look forward to, became something that brought them closer instead of a wedge pushing them apart.

He didn't realise how much he relied on it until he didn't have it anymore.

Thought of the day, of course, turned into ficlet of the day for me 😂 and now I feel like seeing if other people have thoughts on this.

How do Pran and Pat support each other? How important is that support to each to them?

If you want, reblog this with your thoughts, ficlets, edits, gifs, whatever you want! We could have a little Bad Buddy chain post 😊

Tagging a few people who might be interested:

@galauvant @incandescentflower @i-got-the-feels @faillen @lost-my-sanity1 @springhaven @dribs-and-drabbles @dudeyuri @soberbutsleepless @lurkingshan @takeadeepbreathandexist @paalove @pokomumee @telomeke-bbs @hyeoni-comb @hereforlou @summerofofelia @ephemeralunicornsstuff @snickerdoodlles @toomoonfic @theheightofdishonor @givemebiscuits @an-asuryampasya

#patpran fic rec #bad buddy totd #you are not the only one with this level of patpran brainrot still #patpran #bad buddy #bad buddy the series #patpran meta #because we have to keep patpran alive #at all costs #patpran brainrot

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jotatetsuken · 3 years ago

Text

Willow (Fuegoleon Vermillion x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You've been thinking, and overthinking about confessing your feelings for your childhood friend, and captain of the Crimson Lion squad, Fuegoleon Vermillion for quite some time. You go to a couple of unusual sources for help confessing your feelings to him. But he catches you while you’re preparing to confess it to him. What would the outcome be?

Warning: Anxiety attacks, mentions of injuries and coma, low self-esteem issues, bullying

A/N: This is my first anime one shot on Tumblr and I’ve just finished watching Black Clover and I’m having a major brain rot. It will also be quite long, so I'm very sorry in advance about that.

Also, if you like this idea, I might make this into a series where I'll write stories using Taylor Swift songs as inspiration. So, if you do, please let me know. Heart it, comment on it, or reblog it. But don’t repost this anywhere else on any other platforms. The plotline may be similar to a Disney movie (The Descendants), and the characters of Black Clover belong to Yūki Tabata, but the story is mine. :)

Number of words: 2626

Song: willow - Taylor Swift

┍━━━━━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━━━━┑

Now this is an open-shut case

Guess I should've known from the look on your face

Every bait and switch was a work of art

┕━━━━━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━━━━┙

Fuegoleon Vermillion was the captain of the Crimson Lion Squad in the Clover Kingdom. Having been friends with him for so many years, you were close to him and his siblings, Mereoleona and Leopold. Also, you have been the peacemaker between Fuego and Nozel Silva, his distant relative and rival whenever they’ve been at loggerheads. Mereo often commented on how good you guys looked together, but the thought hadn’t honestly occurred to you by then.

You were unsure of when your feelings for him began because, first, you’d felt a sense of respect when you were around him. Fuego wasn’t just a tall man with purple eyes. It wasn’t his long, straight vermillion hair, that was neatly combed to the back while leaving his long fringe combed to the left in a wavy hairstyle. It wasn’t the red earrings he wore, the markings around his eyes, and the diamond-shaped mark on his forehead that made him even more appealing to you.

There was this charismatic aura he had around him. You saw him always be respectful to elders. He was a stickler for rules (to a point where you found it funny, so you’d tease him). Also, he wouldn’t hesitate to put his life on the line if it came to it so that he’d be able to protect others.

Second, you felt a strong sense of adoration for him as friends. He never looked down on you when you were having trouble with controlling your magic. Instead, he, along with Mereoleona and Leopold, had a special training session for you to grow and master your ability to sense your Mana Zone. He was the first captain to raise his hand when you’d applied for the Magic Knights Entrance Exam.

Even though you didn’t need to apply, having connections in the Vermillion family, you wanted to forge your own path. He confided in you whenever he felt conflicted in making complicated decisions. There was a special bond between you two that you’d not want to adulterate. Thus, you did not want to confuse your feelings and misinterpret them, so instead of at once confessing to him like you would’ve, you waited for it to stew.

When you saw that Fuegoleon’s right arm was severed, inducing him into a coma, it made you an emotional mess. This caused you to kneel and cry incessantly. While this shook Asta, Noelle, and Leo to the core, that’s when Fuego’s image burned into your head when he was alarming you to be calm at all times. So, you stood up and held Leo’s shoulder to calm him.

As time passed by, you, along with Leo, stayed by his side whenever you two weren’t busy on missions. Leo kept insisting that he’d stay, but you told him it was okay and that Fuego needed him to grow. The thought of him going away from your life seemed so scary that your shared memories flashed before your eyes. It was at that moment when you were holding his left hand; the realization hit you. You were a branch of a willow tree that bent right to his ferocious wind power. You were falling for him and you needed him back to hold on to him because you were “lost in (his) current like a priceless wine.” Caressing his face while tears were streaming down your cheeks, you whispered, “Fuego, come back. The squad needs you, your siblings need you. I need you.”

Ever since then, whenever anyone mentioned Fuego’s name, or even the word, “captain,” you’d blush, like a reflex. You would care about your attire, mannerisms, and appearance because you wanted to impress him. He consumed every single thought in your brain. Not to mention he had a fan club you were aware of, having read the letters that were sent to him, but he wasn’t. Whenever you two passed by them, the girls would glare at you and grit their teeth. Their stench of jealousy was so palpable that you’d scoff at them and grin at them as you walked with Fuego.

While he was in a coma, the said fans constantly poked at, and made fun of you, who’d remark, “You’re the reason Fuegoleon-sama is injured!” “Where were you when Fuegoleon-sama was fighting?” “You should leave the squad. You’re a disgrace to Fuegoleon-sama’s name!” While Leo and Mereo hung around you and retorted at them with nice quips, this still hurt you. “(Y/N),” Mereo tells you when she places her hand on your shoulder, “you don’t have to listen to what they say. You’re perfect for him,” she smiles while Leo nods in agreement, causing you to smile, but the pain hurled by their words still lingered.

When he came back from his coma and was blessed by the Fire Spirit, Salamander, it filled you with renewed hope as you looked into his eyes and he smiled at you (the one in the GIF) and said, “I’m home, (Y/N).” When you hugged him, that was when you knew you needed him in your life, no matter what. At the next Captains’ and Vice-Captains’ meeting, you approached one of your closest friends in the Kingdom, Dorothy Unsworth, the captain of the Coral Peacock squad, as her spell could help you practice confessing to Fuego the way she helped Charlotte Roselei, the Blue Rose Squad Captain confess to Yami Sukehiro, the Black Bulls Captain.

“Don’t run away, (Y/N)-chan! Don’t run away from your feelings,” Dorothy cried as she ran after you in the corridors of the Magic Knights Headquarters. Although you came to her as you needed help to confess your feelings, you feared even mentioning his name, as that very thought caused you to be rubescent. When Dorothy said, “Oho! I see. You wanted to confess your feelings to Fuegoleon-san, right?” You feel flushed all over again. This caused you to scream and run out of the ladies’ restroom where you two were. On the way, you spot Vanessa Enoteca, one of the Black Bulls and a good friend, as she’s waiting to go with Asta and Yami back to their base. You approach her, screaming her name, “VANESSAAAAAAAAAA!”

Your gorgeous pink-haired friend chuckles at you as you hide behind her as Dorothy looks for you. Vanessa replies, “Ara, ara, (Y/N)-san! What happened to you today? Has Rouge caught your tongue?”* Having no time to explain, you click your tongue, hold her by her wrist and run ahead. When Dorothy finds you, she releases a multi-hued mist, touches you and Vanessa, and causes both of you to be pulled into her spell, Dream Magic: “Glamour World.”

The Glamour World held a myriad of fantastical items out of your and her imagination. She could manifest anything under the Sun in this world. For Dorothy, this was her sphere of influence, her realm, her comfort zone, and she wanted you to come out of yours by helping you. This was what you’d signed up for when you approached her.

However, even thinking of him caused you to be embarrassed and unable to think clearly. “Dorothy, why are you doing this?” You grunt as you land on a bed along with Vanessa, who then imagines a glass of wine out of nowhere and is just being her cheerful self. “What is holding you back, (Y/N)-chan? Why are you finding it difficult to confess it to Fuegoleon-san?”

Your expression turns gloomy as you think of the girls of the fan club who were ready to come at you every chance they’d get. “Dorothy-chan,” you reply gloomily, “I wonder whether Fuego does like me or is he too devoted to his job to notice me? There’s also the ‘fan club’ that’s so hellbent on knocking me down...” That’s when you feel Vanessa patting your shoulder, saying, “Oh, (Y/N)-san, when have you let the opinions get to you? Captain, would it be possible to please imagine...” “On it,” Dorothy exclaimed as out of nowhere, a mirage of Fuegoleon appears. Your eyes lock up to his, and he smiles at you. “Fuego, I, I, I...” you stutter as you smack him, only for the apparition to vanish. You sigh in defeat, saying, "If only I was confident enough..."

"What are you afraid of, (Y/N)-chan?" Dorothy looks at you in wonder. "You're the most confident person I know of!" Vanessa nods her head in agreement. "You're also a wonderful Vice-Captain, what is holding you back?"

"Fear of losing him and our friendship, Dorothy!" You reply. "What if he rejects me and this causes a disturbance in our equation? I do not want that at all, but, I..." you couldn't continue talking as you slowly broke into tears causing Dorothy and Vanessa to imagine some tissue boxes for you.

Then, an idea sparks into Vanessa's head. “Maybe I could ask for help in the Witches Forest to send a couple of love potions or truth potions to use in something edible? Let’s ask Charmy to make a couple of lovely dishes and buy a nice bottle of wine for him to drink."

Dorothy gapes her mouth wide open, saying "Ooh, Vanessa-chan! That's a good idea. After which, we’ll put drops of the potion in the food and alcohol which you can give Fuegoleon to eat and drink. If it's the love potion, the food will make him fall in love with you. If the truth potion, he'll confess his feelings.” The two girls high-fived each other in agreement. Your mouth gapes wide open, and you say, “Vanessa, Dorothy-chan, are you serious?! Should we even do this?” Vanessa then winks and replies, “I mean, every bait-and-switch should be a work of art, right?”

You nod your head in denial, chuckling, "That's not how bait-and-switch works, Vanessa."

At lunchtime, you’re at your usual lunch spot with the Vermillions. All of you were laughing, chattering, and discussing the things that happened in your respective missions. Mereo would often joke about how she should've thrown Leo into the giant chasm to train, causing her and Fuego to bicker and you to giggle.

Deep down, however, you were nervous about what would be the outcome of the consumption of the potion-doused food and wine. You decide to give Fuego his favorite dish along with newly bought wine to taste. No sooner does he take a bite and sip and find it tasty enough, than he shares the wine with Mereo and the food with her and also, much to your shock and confusion.

You think to yourself, “Uh, oh! I guess I am in trouble!” To your surprise, however, Mereo doesn’t just compliment the food and the wine. She also spills certain things about herself that she kept hidden all along. “Btw, (Y/N),” Mereo speaks to you, “Did you know Leo has been fancying someone?” As she speaks more, Leo covers her mouth and they both chase each other, much to Fuego’s dismay, and oddly enough, your relief.

In the evening, when the Sun was about to set, you, wearing a crimson halter neck gown, were standing in front of a mirror, practicing. “Okay, (y/n), you can do this!" you tell yourself as you look into the mirror. "Fuego, I’ve been meaning to say something to you…”

“I know. Mereo told me,” you heard a familiar voice that caused you to turn and twitch in shock. “Oh, oh, Fuegoleon! Hey! I didn’t notice you…” Your voice fades away as your two index fingers point at each other, showing your nervousness as your cheeks flush again when you look down.

“(Y/N),” he calls out to you softly as he picks your chin up, “you never call me by my full name. I sense there’s something troubling. Come, let’s go to the balcony. The dinner with the Silva’s can wait.” You smile and notice that he was wearing his uniform, but you felt he looked even more handsome today. You nod your head and hold his hand as he takes you to the balcony.

"So, you were planning on saying something to me, weren't you?" Fuegoleon broke the calming silence as the Sun's setting rays shone on his countenance. "Fuego, how did you know?" He scratches his head and replies, " Well, after you left to attend to your duties, Mereo accidentally spilled it out to me when she was eating a morsel of what you brought for me. It tasted very different from the ones we usually cook. Did you use a potion in it?" Your eyes widen as he figured it out, biting your lip in nervousness. With your eyes looking down on the ground, you confess, "Uh, uh, yes, I wanted to..."

“...tell me how you feel about me without regretting?” He smiles at you as he completes your sentence. There was one question that was bugging you. “Fuego, how did you know about the potion?” He replied, “The aftereffects wore off and I could sense the mana from the food. I'm assuming Charmy-kun helped you cooking, 'cause I felt my magic regenerating. Tell me, love,” he continues as he puts his hand on yours, “why did you hesitate in confessing?”

“Two reasons, Fuego,” you continue, “One, you have a lofty goal ahead of you. I feel that my feelings, should they be accepted, would only come in the way of your desire to be the Magic Emperor. Besides, you have a fan club that’s been jealous of me for a long time.” You roll your eyes as you didn't want to remember all the stuff that was said to you.

“Wait, a second!” Fuego’s eyes widen. “I have a fan club?” You chuckle in response to his bewilderment. “You have the highest number of fan clubs, other than Nozel, that is.” He curls his left arm into a fist and grits his teeth. “Oh god, Nozel, stop being my rival in everything!” You giggle in response, causing him to calm down and smile. “Also,” he continues, “I can only achieve my goal as long as you are by my side.”

“What?!” His response took you aback. That meant only one thing. “I love you too, (Y/N). Always have. I can’t imagine my days without you. You didn’t need a potion to get that out of me.” He smiles and cups your cheek while caressing it with his thumb. You respond by apologizing to him. “I’m sorry, Fuego.”

He shakes his head as to say, “you don’t have to be. Now that I think about it, Mereo was pissed with a group of ladies who were upsetting you. They don’t see what we see in you, my love.” He comes closer to you, with your faces only inches apart, and says, “that’s what I see in you.” All hesitation fades away as his lips land on yours and you both engulf in a passionate kiss while you two interlock fingers. Nothing mattered, neither anyone’s interferences nor what people were going to say. At that moment, it was just the two of you who’d seen the places where others gave you two scars, whose responsibilities, for a moment, had seemed like drudgery, until this very moment.

As the last rays of the Sun were about to set, both of you pull away from the kiss, and you put your arms around his neck while he put his arms around your waist, and you looked into each other eyes and smiled. Fuego was right. You didn’t need a potion to help you confess your feelings for him and those girls’ ‘love’ for him didn’t matter at all. He was there all along, waiting for his ship to reach your harbor for safety. You were his home, and that was enough.

©Shyna 2022

"Has Rouge caught your tongue?”* - Since Rouge's Vanessa's cat and the usual statement is "has the cat caught your tongue?", I changed the statement a little bit. Poetic license hehe :D Thank you for coming this far, btw. I hope you like it <3

also tagging @ry0m3n and @bowandcurtsey 'cause i've found more black clover lovers omg <33

#fuegoleon vermillion #fuegoleon x reader #black clover #anime fanfic #willow #evermore #Spotify #fluff #black clover x reader #shynoleon #musings of an extrovert #shyna muses

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

long days for bad people

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~6k

Being a prized, adored possession was far better than you thought it would be.

warnings: light daddy kink (no age play, just the name in mostly jest), spit kink, crying kink, degradation, brief descriptions of blood + violence, kidnapping (consensual?? read a/n), brat taming, light sadomasochism, mind break, praise kink

------

here it is, mafia au, villain hawks, dom, brat tamer, soft(?!) hawks. what more could you want?

there’s briefly described kidnapping at the beginning of the fic but it is reiterated throughout that this is consensual! no yandere/stockholm stuff in this fic.

i’ve been working on this one for a while and i’m happy to finally share it. hope y’all enjoy!!

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You shouldn’t have fucked around with the League.

God, it was common knowledge in the parts of town and circles you inhabited. Of all criminal syndicates, mobs, to fuck with, the League wasn’t one of them. They were known for their complete cruelty and violent delights. The League had such a reputation due to the fact that they openly left bodies carved up and burnt as they pleased.

But, you were a fucking idiot and got involved anyways.

It was a small loan, Giran almost seemed to scoff when he gave you the cash. You and your almost-stranger of a roommate were just very late on some bills and were going to lose a lot of material items if you didn’t scrounge up at least two paychecks in about three days.

You swallowed your pride and took the first and easiest loan you could get. That just happened to be with gap-toothed, wide-grinning Giran of the League. He, you knew from what you’d heard, was somewhat fair in matters like yours.

You had two weeks to pay him back.

...

You didn’t make it in time.

You were close to the amount, notably. You scrounged and clawed your way into getting the cash back. You weren’t much of a pickpocket, but you snagged some odd jobs around the apartment building that you and your roommate were still fortunate enough to keep a room in.

After one particular job, a nasty carpentry gig that you weren’t qualified for, you returned home tired and worn.

Sure, you were a day late on payment. But with this last gig, you were so close. The League would have to pity two, stupid, stupid young girls?

They didn’t, you realized, as you stepped into your apartment.

Your roommate's slain corpse was laying over the arm of your cheap couch, eyes vacant and mouth dripping blood onto the old beige carpet.

You dropped to your knees, horrified and completely stunned.

“You should’ve known better,” it was a hum from across the room, from a figure you didn’t even know was in the room until then. “Really, you’d expect folks to be smarter.”

Your mouth dried as the figure moved from the nighttime shadows, flashing a dazzling smile and ruffling crimson wings.

Hawks.

You’d heard of him, everyone had. Terrifying, fast, precise, and cutthroat. He took orders and didn’t ask questions other than snark. He talked too much, fucked too much.

“W-wait,” You didn't know why you were pleading, but you had to try, right? “I’m so close, wait—”

Hawks sauntered up to you wielding one of his feather blades, the red of blood mixing with the filaments of his feathers.

He crouched down in front of you, tsking, “I don’t like begging, angel. I’ll make this quick for you. Your friend there?”

Hawks jerked his finger behind to your dead roommate.

“She fought, pleaded, begged, all that normal shit I don’t like hearing when shitheads like you two don’t make payday,” his voice was slow, talking about death like some casual thing. “I’ll make this nice and fast if you don’t run your mouth anymore, how about that?”

You swallowed, nodding.

The small percentage of your brain that was fully functioning figured dying quickly was a much better way to go than whatever the hell had happened to your roommate. There was far too much blood for that to be quick.

Hawks hummed, the tip of his feather blade tipping up your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze. You vaguely heard the pitter-patter of your tears hitting the carpet below. Blood rushed in your ears as you stared death in the face.

Hawks appraised you.

You watched the metaphorical cogs and wheels turning in Hawks’ skull as he looked you up and down before flashing forward, gathering you in his arms and flying from the apartment.

Your first thought was obvious as you clung to him in the open air:

He’s going to drop you and kill you.

When you screamed, tears growing thicker, he slapped a gloved hand over your mouth, “I’m giving you an out, kid. Trust me. You’ll prefer this over death.”

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Your new existence was certainly better than death.

If you were ever caught and convicted of any of the illegal things you participated in, you’d be fucked, thrown into prison until you rotted, until you were just dust and bone.

But, until then, you worked for the League.

You had groveled at the feet of their leader, Shigaraki, hands clasped on your lap, claiming your worth, or maybe lack thereof. Not many attachments, not many people who’d miss you, a semi-useful quirk.

With a boot shoved into your skull, he sneered that you’d be the League’s new errand dog.

The real reason they accepted you was due to the threatening air Hawks was exuding and the fact that their old ‘errand bitch’ had died the week prior. They needed a new body to act as a civilian and do things that only an unsuspecting-looking ‘civilian’ could. You fit the bill, and Hawks had taken a liking to you.

Oddly, working for the League was actually pretty okay.

You got your own room. It was small, but you only had to share a bathroom with the somewhat unhinged Himiko, but she was fairly nice once she warmed up to you. Everyone lived in the League’s HQ and went about their business, getting drunk at their bar front each night.

Most of the mess happened at night, but it was important to put on a nice veneer and keep spirits high. Not to mention that no one would dared to fuck with the League, anyways. The cops and federal government had long been paid off due to the resources that the League had acquired for them.

You felt somewhat untouchable.

A lot of this confidence was due to the fact that you had become Hawks’s... Keigo’s...

‘Songbird’

As he liked to call you, anyway.

Keigo was the general, loveable annoyance of the League, but his connections were invaluable and his skills were unmatched. Despite how he could grate on people (read: Dabi and Shigaraki), he was respected and feared just as much as everyone else was, if not more so. And being his metaphorical and literal pet had its perks.

Sure, the first time he had you come to his ‘office’ and he fucked you against the window until it was smeared with cum and blood was a bit surprising, but god, if you didn’t fucking love it. Being Keigo’s personal fucktoy came with protection, pleasure, and a surprising amount of genuine attention. The dude was lonely, and so were you. The two of you made a good ‘couple’, if you could even call yourselves that. The sadism he doled out was always counterpointed by affections that did seem genuine.

Keigo was fond of you, and you of him. Maybe your brush with death had twisted something in your head, to even allow yourself to get close to a man like Keigo, but you couldn’t make yourself care.

You were comfortable and content.

...

[bird boss]: hey babe ;^) get to my office in the next thirty minutes

[you]: what if i don’t

[bird boss]: do u really want to find out

[you]: ...

[you]: im just curious

[bird boss]: don’t get cheeky songbird

[you]: u make me wanna u know

[you]: i know it gets you riled up

[bird boss]: tread lightly kid

[you]: oooo i gave you some guff over text

[you]: what’re you gonna do about it?

[bird boss]: use your imagination

[bird boss]: 25 minutes now, songbird

[bird boss]: don’t make this worse for yourself <3

You set your phone on your cheap duvet, quickly primped yourself to see Keigo. He wasn’t too strict about your appearance but wearing dark clothes and some of the more expensive gifts he’d gotten you over the months he’d been screwing you never hurt. Something about ownership with him always got him hot and bothered.

You tried to remind yourself frequently that Keigo saw you as some sort of possession, but a possession with feelings.

Meandering through HQ was always a bit daunting, despite your protections. Your skimpy outfit choice and hardly-hidden lingerie made you feel a bit more like an object than you liked too.

There were hardly hungry mouths around the League, they kept you all fed, but god, were there starving eyes.

Dabi wolf-whistled as you walked past him through a common room, shouting something about how Keigo was collecting his pound of flesh for the day. Maybe a line or two about being a whore, but that was all flavor at that point. Keigo called you far meaner, more sinful things. And hell, it wasn’t like Keigo hadn’t... shared you on more than one occasion.

Maybe you were a little fucked up for enjoying your lifestyle to the degree you did, but why not indulge where you could? Life was far shittier scraping paint off old fences and picking up cans to just scrape by.

Opulence was a breath of fresh air. And if you were Keigo’s fuck toy? Then, god, you were Keigo’s fuck toy.

When you arrived at Keigo’s office, you knocked gently on the door, quickly adjusting your skirt and blouse.

The door opened, though no one was behind it. Only a single one of Keigo’s feathers allowed you entrance.

His office seemed daunting and extravagant for a man who did most of his ‘work’ in far-shadier, far-bloodier places. The walls were covered in mirrors and old paintings, something out of vanity and pride, knowing how Keigo saw himself. There were several black leather couches scattered around against walls, some stained by your various... activities. There was a broad desk parallel to a back wall made entirely of windows.

Night had fallen, leaving the room lit by a few lamps and warm fixtures.

“Hey, boss,” You hummed as you stepped in, shutting the door behind you just before the lingering scarlet feather flicked the lock on the door.

And the other one.

And the deadbolt.

You swallowed thickly.

As much as you enjoyed a lot of the perks of your... position, it was also daunting.

Keigo was daunting, all bloody colors, vanity, and hunger.

He sat behind his desk, wings puffed up, and partially extended over the back of his chair. The desk chair was massive, specifically acquired so that you would have enough room to properly straddle his lap for hours on end if he so wished.

Keigo idly clicked around on his desktop computer. He leaned slack and back into the chair, legs spread wide and exuding casual confidence that reeked of his own ego.

Keigo normally wore a mix of black and red, as edgy as it was. He liked to seem clean, hide the stains of sanguine that undoubtedly lingered on him no matter how he tried to cleanse himself. His black slacks were pressed, the seams pristine. The black shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows, the buttons of his red vest undone as well. His black tie hung half-undone and limp around his neck. His tousled gold hair was mussed as normal, ruffled by his flights. His feathers might’ve needed preening, but you doubted that that was the reason he called you to his office.

And based on the deep set of his brow and the sickly smile on his lips, he was already on edge and in a mood.

“Songbird, come over here, will you?” Keigo sat back from his typing, watching you from across the room. He took you in the same way a parched man sucks down red wine, greedily and soon to be fucked. “On my lap.”

You complied, despite your earlier attitude. You padded across the room, going around his desk.

As you moved to straddle his lap, worn hands gripped your waist. His amber eyes gave you a warning, crinkling at the edges, “Not like that, sweetheart. Do daddy right.”

Oh, so it was one of those moods.

Maybe you were Keigo’s sexual punching bag so he could exert control on something he could later kiss better and patch up.

Sure, he was going to fucking ruin you, but part of the fun with him was that the more it hurt, the nicer he was after. And, all things considered, with some of the... other folks the League brought in to satiate its member’s desires, you fared far better. Keigo cared about you, in his own particular way.

You tried to lean over his lap yourself, but his hands and feathers positioned you perfectly as he wanted. With the tight grip he had on your waist and shoulders, dragging you just as he liked, it was easy to see his need for control.

Your head hung off of one of his thighs as you squirmed in his lap. His bulge already pressed into your ribs, a wonderful reminder of the reward you’d reap later on. Keigo’s hands gathered your hand to the small of your back, a feather replacing their grip a moment later.

“Sit with me while I finish this shit,” Keigo grumbled, going back to clicking the desktop. His leg bobbed absentmindedly, his free hand rubbing over the curve of your barely-covered ass. “Be a good girl, (Y/N). If you can stand that.”

He laughed under his breath.

You let your head dangle limply downwards, blood rushing to your cheeks.

You’d thought you’d be in for more of an ass-kicking, but it appeared Keigo was taking things unusually slow. You knew better than to complain, but kicking up a bit of metaphorical sand couldn’t be that bad, right?

“I dunno,” You hummed, kicking your legs lightly. “I don’t think you like it when I’m a ‘good girl’, daddy.”

“Watch it.” A single, sharp smack to your butt was hardly enough to shut you up, but Keigo did so all the same, rubbing over the covered flesh a moment later, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you sure about that?” You wriggled, intentionally pushing up against his growing erection.

His breath stuttered, a smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. The hand on your ass didn’t rear again, rather Keigo kept thumbing smooth circles as he continued to click around on the computer. He might have been actually doing work. Or, he was ignoring you, egging your sass on.

“If you didn’t want anything, why’d you call me in here?” You asked, way too cheeky for the way Keigo’s body was practically vibrating underneath you. Pissing him off had consequences, of course, but you weren’t in the mood to play ‘good girl’ that day.

“I told you, I want you to sit with me,” Keigo pinched your ass. “But, you’re too mouthy to do just that one thing. You’re usually better than this.”

“Am I?” You played innocent, craning to give him a wide smile. “Hadn’t noticed. What I am noticing, is your already-hard cock, dear.”

“Oh, ‘dear’?!” Keigo paused on the computer. “Cheeky. Cute.”

Keigo would just dig in more, lean in, before ‘snapping’, if you could call it that.

You gulped as his hand swatted at upper thighs, his nails almost knicking your skin.

“Up and don’t get smart about it.”

Oh, you were going to be remarkably smart about it.

You rose but hardly stayed upright for long. Sliding down to your knees, you pushed at Keigo’s legs, “Wouldn’t you prefer me down here? Just for a treat while you finish your work?”

Keigo clicked his tongue, gaze flickering down to you, “Fine. Behave yourself.”

Yeah, right. You both knew that that wasn’t going to happen.

You were already tucked underneath his desk, undoing the fly of his pants.

You pulled his cock from his trousers, pumping his cock to full hardness. Smearing around preek for a bit of extra flare before inching forward.

Wrapping your mouth around Keigo’s dick was somewhat of a feat— he had a decent girth to him, so you usually took the opportunity to warm him (and yourself) up with a bit of tip-kissing and kitten licks.

But, you were feeling bold.

You spit on his dick, a move that normally would have earned you plenty of verbal snark, but anything Keigo could’ve said to you was swallowed as you took his cock down to the back of your throat.

You sucked around it, massaging the vein on the bottom with the flat of your tongue. Drool began to pool at the side of your lips as you let the head bump your throat, gag reflex be damned.

All the while, Keigo had stopped moving above you. The fabric of his trouser balled up in his ringed-fingers as he gazed half-lidded down at you.

You smiled around his dick, looking up at him innocently as you began to slowly bob your head. His wings fluttered, twitches and air stirring around you.

Keigo stifled a laugh, a hand tangling in your hair, “All that talk earlier and now you’re treating me to a blowjob without even me having to tell you to? Dove, you’re too much.”

You pulled off of him to reply, “I can only try.”

Before he could reply, you spit on his dick again, and went back to slurping around him.

You held the base of his cock in your hands, twisting and spreading spittle. It almost felt like your actions were for show, but Keigo’s eyes were rolling back in his head all the same.

You smirked.

A drool pool from your mouth, puddling in your lap and soaking your skirt. Not like you weren’t already dripping from the sinful sounds Keigo stopped trying to hold.

“A-ah, that’s it, angel,” Keigo fucked into your mouth with his hold on your hair. “Just like that.”

Your hand rose to play with Keigo’s balls, teasing at the sack as he cried out a high moan above you.

Considering the performance you were giving, it was unsurprising to feel him tensing above you. You’d been on your knees for him hundreds of times; you’d learned to see the little twitches and puffs of breath he’d give when he’d get close to coming.

You pulled off his cock with a pop, detangling the hand from your hair in the motion. It was all fast enough that Keigo couldn’t have stopped you in his hazy, pleasure-filled state.

Based on the look of rapid disbelief he was giving you, your trick had worked well. Knowing Keigo’s... tendencies made you hesitant to push him too much in the past, but for whatever reason, you were feeling stupidly bold.

Consequences.

“Sorry, daddy,” You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Didn’t feel like swallowing today.”

Keigo’s disheveled appearance was more than gratifying. Knowing how easily you made him come undone by that point was one of the perks of your position.

His hair was more than ruffled, strands and tufts chaotically curled around his cheeks and ears. There was a bright blush on his face, spreading from his nose to the apples of his cheeks, down his deck. At some point, he’d popped the buttons at the top of his shirt. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, half-panting and based on the darkness in his brow and the far-too peachy smile on his face, Keigo was fucking pissed.

His wings stood on end.

You gulped from below him.

Maybe you pushed your luck too far.

Maybe.

“You’re playing real cute today, aren’t you songbird?” Keigo didn’t move, but his feathers twitched above him, wings flaring out even farther. “Real fucking cute.”

You were fucked.

Good.

A few feathers flew from Keigo, one snagging at your wrist, wrapping around it, and pulling you up from the desk.

You wobbled as you stood, dragged across the room as Keigo leisurely followed behind you. When you tried to set your own pace, Keigo swatted your ass with a huff, “You never learn, huh? I thought I’d trained you better than this.”

You opened your mouth to spit some dickish retort, but you were cut off as Keigo’s shoved you onto one of the leather couches.

“Don’t.” Keigo’s tone was acidic as he stood over your, wings still flared out. “I told you I wasn’t in the mood for your cute bullshit, dove, and you still decided to test your luck, huh?”

You kneeled on the cushions, sucking down air, shaking with anticipation.

“You don’t feel like swallowing today? That’s fine, I can work with that,” Keigo shrugged easily from above you.

Keigo had an... active sexual imagination, and you could tell by the crook in his lips that he had something devilish planned as retribution.

A sharp slap came down on your cheek, Keigo catching the opposite jaw and keeping you from recoiling too far. You blinked as the pain spread around your skull like licking flames against a frostbitten body.

You wanted more.

A little grin stretched against your mouth as Keigo rubbed at your cheeks with his thumbs, “Aw, you always get so sweet like this, dove. You can be a good girl if you try, can’t you?”

His actions carried candor and his words absolute torment.

Despite how Keigo was trying to goad you into submission, you had a bit of spark left in you.

Plainly, you spit on him.

The glob of saliva landed on Keigo’s cheek, under his eye.

He blinked at you.

You continued to smile.

His own expression grew strained.

“Oh, songbird,” Keigo damn near lamented, wiping away the kind gift you’d given him. His voice was smooth without any bit of waver, all of the sexually-charged anger rolling just beneath the veneer. “You’re just being pain slut today, aren’t you?”

You were, absolutely. You could feel your arousal wetting your panties, the heat of the strike from your cheek beginning to boil something in your gut.

“You just need a bit of special attention today, right? That’s all.” Keigo tsked, fully removing the tie from around his neck. “You just need a little reminder.”

“Reminder of what?” You asked, tilting your head quizzically.

Keigo flipped you, feathers pushing and bracing you as needed while nimble hands tore off your clothes without reverie.

“Plenty of things, especially with this attitude you’ve got today,” Keigo’s tie looped around your wrists, binding them together at the center of your back.

“You definitely need a reminder of who’s the boss around here,” Keigo shoved you forward, stomach flush with the back of the couch.

You reeled from the pace of it all, shifting your knees for any bit of stimulation you could get. Keigo’s feathers were slicing and pulling your clothes from your body faster than you could keep track of. It was overwhelming, making your mind swim in the best possible way. You throbbed.

“Maybe a reminder about who fucking provides for you,” Keigo’s own clothes were shaken off, dropped to the floor and forgotten.

It was true. Keigo always made sure than you were taken care of, in more ways than one. Despite how fast-paced and laid back he could seem, he was always on top of making sure you had more than enough material and immaterial pleasure whether than be in the form of food, fucking, or otherwise.

You yelped as a smack fell across your ass. A feather caught the elastic of your panties, snapping a moment later, leaving you fully bare before him.

Keigo’s worn hand came to press at your throat and jaw, tilting your head back as he climbed behind you, “Maybe, you need a reminder about who keeps you safe.”

This phrase was softer than the others, a sweet kiss pressing to your cheek and his voice a bit more gentle. It was jarring at the skin still stung from his earlier strike, but you cherished the heat besides.

Once again, true. The folks in and outside of the League were greedy. There were plenty of unwanted souls that stole glances at Hawks’s prized songbird. There were starved eyes that tore into you whether you were dolled up for Keigo or not. There had been some... close calls, one could say, but Keigo always was there, in the end, unafraid to get his hands dirty.

“You know what the most important reminder is, dove?” Keigo rolled his hips against you, cock wedging between your thighs.

“N-no,” You stuttered, brain turning gooey as Keigo’s arms snaked around your waist, sharpened nails leaving indents in your hips.

He nosed at your neck, leaving a few love bites in his wake.“‘N-no’, what?”

“I don’t know,” You leaned back into Keigo’s chest, rubbing your thighs around his cock.

“Oh, songbird, you sweet thing,” He chuckled, all teasing and self-indulgent. “I’m the one who makes you feel good.”

He was so right, wasn’t he?

With the way he’d learned your body over the last few months, he’d had some undeniable pursuit to make you feel the best.

Keigo was inquisitive by nature. He had kept you on your back for hours while he finger-fucked you, watching every twitch and roll of your hips to figure out just the right ways to break you. He’d kissed and sucked and slapped every inch of you, sussing out the perfect ways to make you writhe and cry for him.

Sure, you were an absolute terror to him sometimes. Not to mention that Keigo jumping you covered in the blood of that day's targets was as macabre and horrifying as it sounded.

But, fuck, if he didn’t know how to bring you to ecstasy that fucking ruined you in the best way.

Keigo got off on watching you shatter for him. It was the reason he’d torn you from that cheap, bloodied apartment in the first place. A kind, naive little morsel that he could play with as he wanted. You didn’t complain. Fuck, you reveled in his attention. You gave it back to him, like the fucked up, semi-divine being could be any more debauched than he already was.

Corruption spreads, but you’d never complain. If being plucked from struggling for pennies to being fucked stupid by a man who could kill you at a moments notice, a man who would kill for you, somehow poisoned you?

You’d die with a bitter taste on your tongue and a smile on your face.

Keigo rubbed at your clit, nipping at your neck, and rolled his hips greedily. His cock was covered in a mix of your slick and his own preek, easily sliding between plushness of your thighs.

“You love pushing me, acting all tough,” Keigo chastised, clicking his tongue. “I mean it when I say it's cute.”

You don’t have any more quick retorts in you, not when his fingers are down your throat, gagging you as spittle dribbles down your chin onto the leather below. It was sure to leave a mark.

“Behind all that bark and snark, you’re just a good girl, aren’t you?” Keigo punctuated his words with a bite and nip to your neck. “Just needed a reminder, right, dove?”

You whimpered against his fingers at the praise, grinding against Keigo’s touch needily.

His fingers pushed pinched your tongue, breath curling over the shell of your ear, “What are you?”

You mumbled against his fingers, “A g-good g-girl.”

It was humiliating in the best way. Keigo’s light laugh at your attempt. The way he nuzzled his nose into the sweat at the crook of your shoulder was just aloe on the burn.

“I misspoke, if you can believe that,” Keigo’s cock pulled out from your thighs. “Songbird, you know what I meant to call you?”

You squirmed at the loss, but he was quick to hush you. His fingers left your mouth with a thick trail of spit.

“You’re my good girl.”

You melted in his arms.

Falling back against Keigo’s chest, you craned your neck to lock your lips to his.

Maybe that was it, why all the filth didn’t bother you. Because you had worth. Maybe it was insecurity, or maybe it was self-aware in the face of your lived experience. Before being taken, the life you’d lived made you just a rusty cog in a dying machine. You wouldn’t have amounted to anything, probably.

But with the League?

You were the prized, beloved consort of an angry god.

Keigo owned you, body, mind and soul, and you let him. That’s not even to mention how you had him wrapped around your finger. He adored you, under all of it.

Fighting with him was for sport, not blood.

Keigo licked past your lips, pressing his cock to your cunt teasingly. You whined against him, wriggling in his arms.

“What does my good girl want?” Keigo loved making you beg for him, claw for any bit of stimulation. He liked it even better when you were already soft for him.

Stray tears pricked at your eyes, “Y-your cock.”

He pinched the meat of your thigh, shaking his head, “Not good enough. Speak properly, dove. Clear and correctly.”

You swallowed, searching for the words in your own haze.

Your words were willed to be solid.

“I want your cock, daddy.”

It was just enough.

Keigo pushed forward, the head of his cock already stretching your cunt. Consider the girth of it, the lack of preparation stung and burned more than you would’ve liked, as good as it felt to finally be filled.

Keigo cooed at your soft tears, keeping your face to his with a firm hand on your jaw. He shushed you, far too sweetly while licking the salt from your cheeks, “Relax, angel. Big breaths.”

You nodded, sputtering as he speared into you. Keigo’s free hand went back to toying with your clit, encouraging the tension to drain from your body.

As he bottomed out, you shuddered, falling back into his chest. Keigo’s wings fluttered, twitching in wait. Hot breath fanned over your face, Keigo groaning and locking his jaw.

The stimulation was overwhelming. You had expected Keigo to be meaner, considering how mouthy you’d been.

Yet, it made sense. Keigo had figured out one of the better ways to make you break was softness.

(Truthfully, it made him crack in the same way, but he’d never tell.)

“Feel that?” He asked, just barely rolling his hips.

Keigo released your jaw in favor of wrapping a hand around the front of your throat, tugging you as close he could manage.

“Uh-huh,” You panted.

You could, the kiss of his cock head against your cervix was almost uncomfortable. The delicious pressure and sensitivity already had you reeling in his arms, unsteady and wanting.

“I fill you up so good, don’t I?” Keigo praised his own ego, his cock, but he wasn’t wrong. The curve of his cock rubbed against all the right spots. He stretched you just right, the burn ebbing away into a need for more, more—

“Please, Keigo—” You gasped. Your legs shook as Keigo slammed into you, shoving you forward and into the wall.

His pace was brutal. Hands and feathers kept your back in a harsh arch as he rearranged your insides to his liking. He was kind enough to keep stroking at your clit, bruising your hips and babbling filthy nothings.

“I’m the one who makes you feel this good, only me, right, dove?” Keigo growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.

You nodded against the wall, aware of the drool slipping down your chin as your mouth lolled open. Your insides were hot like white flames, searing any ability to use coherent speech.

Keigo snickered at your state. Slowing, he gripped your ass cheeks. You yelped, inside jumping as he pried them apart. You flinched, hole twitching as he spat down, the liquid cool against the flushed skin.

It was little moves like that, Keigo just subtly making your shudder and feel dirty that got you the most fucked up and fucked out.

You pressed back on his cock, panting against the wall and keening. You would’ve spoke, if you could, but anything that you had the ability to say would’ve been torn apart by Keigo’s sharpened, silver tongue.

“My filthy little dove, huh?” Keigo sneered, watching you try to bounce on his cock the best you could. “Such a glutton when you get broken down like this, needy whore.”

The pleasure of Keigo’s cock tearing up your insides was all you could focus on through the fog of your mind, desperate and wanting and greedy.

“Y-your,” You corrected, the words bubbling from your lips, disjointed and messy. “Yours.”

Keigo may have been avian, but he purred like a damn cat at your admission. He held you like a possession, cock throbbing as he fucked you just right.

“God, you’re sweet, angel,” He nipped at your jaw before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Even all fucked up, you know who you belong to so well, don’t you?”

You nodded, rolling your hips back.

Keigo must’ve taken pity on you, squeezing at the sides of your neck. Cruel as he could be, he must’ve noticed the way your thighs and knees trembled against the leather. Keigo knew the cloud in your eyes well— how to get you hazy and how to fuck you perfectly through the fog.

He fucked back into your dripping cunt, pace harder and faster than before. You were helpless to do anything other than fall forward into the wall, cheek squished against the scarlet.

“Who’s brat are you?” Keigo squeezed a bit harder at your neck as you swallowed against his palm.

“Y-yours—!” You squeaked out, mind going numb from the stimulation and pressure.

A wicked sneer curled against your ear as Keigo’s movements grew sloppier. His tongue lolled over your shoulder, messy kisses and slobbery bites and marks left in his wake. He was close, but you weren’t far off easier.

“Little bird,” It was sweeter, closer and hotter. “Can you come for me? Come all over my cock?”

You nodded.

“Not good enough.” Keigo bit down, nearly breaking the fragile skin of your neck. “You know I like words, angel.”

You gave him words, plenty of them.

Nearly incoherent pleads and cries poured from your bruised lips as Keigo pounded into you. Each blabbering wail was met with Keigo groans and grunts, condescending little phrases spitting over you without release.

Your lack of leverage and use of your arms made you thumping against the couch and wall, vision darkening on the edges as the pressure in your gut and the hold on your throat remained.

You were breaking in his arms, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held yourself from cresting. The exertion of it all was taking its toll, legs jellied and chest beading with sweat.

Keigo sensed it, shifting his hips to hit the spongy spot in your cunt, “Come, dove.”

You let go.

A sob shattered in your throat as your climax crashed through you. Keigo released your throat, holding you by your bound arms as he bottomed out. His own harsh cry panged against yours as he stuffed you full.

Surprisingly gently, he rocked his hips against your own, letting the ambient throb of your cunt milk him dry.

You came down, rolling and spinning as you sucked down air a bit too fast. Keigo panted behind you, though the sound seemed dull.

The pressure from your wrists released, soft thumbs rubbing at where the fabric had bitten into your forearms, “Hey, angel, you with me?”

You could only nod weakly, exhaustion and aches creeping in.

Keigo repositioned the two of you, setting himself against the arm of the couch, wings up free to drape and splay over the floor. He dragged you with him, pulling you to lay on his chest. The stickiness of his spunk, your slick, and general sweatiness might’ve been uncomfortable, but you weren’t quite lucid enough to care.

“How are you feeling? Still feeling a little mouthy?” Keigo teased, already knowing your answer.

You muffled a groan against his chest, shaking your head against the sweat of his chest.

“Awww,” Keigo chuckled, fingers brushing over your cheeks, “Is my dove a little fucked out?”

“Keeeigo, b-be nice.”

Your voice broke, parched.

Keigo snorted, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, “I guess I can manage that. Just for you, though. Can’t let the others see me get all soft.”

You wouldn’t; seeing Keigo warm and gooey, both of you mutually fucked-out, was a pleasure only you got to indulge in. And you loved every moment of it.

++++++++++++

taglist: @sinclairsamess (msg me if you’d like to be on it!)

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x y/n #takami keigo x you #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #hawks #hawks smut #hawks fanfiction #takami keigo smut

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i-write-boop-spoops · 3 years ago

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Steven's Wardrobe Hcs!

this has been on my mind for a few days, and I thought maybe you guys would be interested in hearing it? it’s literally just hcs about steven’s style and wardrobe and stuff.

If people like this, I might do it for other characters. Please don’t hesitate to share your hcs too :)

I have serious silver haired dreamboat rot on the brain rn. He’s such a dork and I wanna marry him

Hcs under the cut.

Steven dresses very formally, the only time where you might see him in a t-shirt or shorts is during the summer, and even then, it’s more likely you’ll see him in a short-sleeved button down than an actual t-shirt. This does not mean his shirts are boring though!

He likes to wear patterns, though they tend to be more classic and less gaudy, think paisley. Even the little rock pattern on his Masters’ summer outfit is quite subtle. If his shirt is patterned, his suits tend to be plain and vice versa. Often his waistcoat, if he is wearing one, might be the only piece he is wearing with a pattern.

As we know, Steven is often seen with a cravat, but he wears ties nearly as often. He has a knack for finding accessories that complement his outfits perfectly. When he’s feeling a little more casual, he won’t wear any form of tie or scarf, and leave the first two buttons undone.

On the note of being casual, as stated above, he’s still quite formal. It’s always a button down, paired with some slacks, or a nice pair of jeans if he’s feeling spicy that day. You still might catch him in a waistcoat, or a sweater vest in the colder months, on his days at home.

During the winter, Steven is partial to a nice knit, though he tends to stick more towards vests than full on jumpers, since he thinks he looks a bit like a dorky dad in them (don’t worry, once he is a dad, he’s all in!). He makes exceptions for a solid black turtleneck, he thinks they’re quite sleek and classic.

Steven proudly wears his rings, but sometimes, he loves a good pair of gloves. Sure, when it’s cold, they keep his fingers warm, but they also provide a flair of elegance and refinery to his look.

In terms of colour palette, Steven tends to stick to a lot of blues, purples and greys. He often uses red as an accent colour, but you’d rarely find him in an outfit where the primary colour is red. More often, but still rarely, he’ll wear an outfit where the primary colour is a rich emerald green, but it’s always in some kind of pattern containing other colours. Sometimes the colours he wears are pastel, sometimes vibrant, sometimes muted.

He tends to stick to black when it comes to more formal occasions, think black-tie weddings, galas and the like. Though he does like to pair a black shirt or turtleneck with a more colourful suit. White becomes a predominant part of his wardrobe during the warm summer months.

When it comes to his jewellery, he likes to match it with his outfit if he can, in terms of the metal and stones used. He tends to stick to silvers and steels, rather than golds or bronzes.

For nightwear, Steven is a silk-pyjama-set kind of guy. Though occasionally you might catch him going to bed in shorts and a shirt. Sometimes no shirt if it’s super warm (and you’re super lucky).

While known to go cave-spelunking in full on three-piece suits, he does have a lot of gear that is tailor made for that kind of stuff. This is where his style philosophy goes out the window, and it is much more about practicality than looks.

Steven comes from capital M Money, so his clothes are very high quality and from designers only those in the know are aware of. That being said, he likes to rewear clothes. He bought them because he liked them, and he’s more likely to get them fixed or repurposes than throw them out.

#steven stone #steven stone headcanons #champion steven #champion steven headcanons #boopy's dumb thoughts #boopy simping over steven again

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oonajaeadira · 4 years ago

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Long Fall Into Oblivion (Ezra x reader)

(header by sirtadcooper - check out the whole beautiful set here.)

Rating: Mature.

Pairing: Ezra (post-Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: Non-explicit sex. Some swears maybe (think there’s a f*ck in there somewhere, my GOODNESS). A lot of gooey, syrupy, soft fluffety fluff. Author attempts at writing Ezra dialogue. A lot of chewy prose.

A/N: I can’t believe I’m posting this, but here goes. I love Ezra. He is a man of questionable morality and an insufferable tongue and I really shouldn’t. But I really do. I just wanted to give him a try. I’ve softened him up here, putting a few years on him so maybe he’s fluffed up some since the events in the film. Also I just ignored the fade or assumed that aurelac mining was still happening because scarcity/demand. Doesn’t matter. Just wanted to go exploring.

Summary: You take a job as an aurelac prospecting trainee and Ezra shows you the ropes. You’re gonna fall in love with him. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

________________

Bakhroma is one of the smallest gas giants in the sector, but as you stand on the surface of the Green Moon, it dominates the entire horizon, pulling your focus, threatening to engulf everything around it. You almost feel sorry for the lush moon as you walk through its undergrowth, so gentle and full of beauty, destined many years after you’re gone to give its life to her.

A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?

There’s a painful, sour ache in your heart as you walk back to the camp in twilight, watching the back of Ezra’s helmet bob along in front of you. You’d spent two days digging that claim only to find the weakest aurelac nest you’ve seen yet, only three viable nodes. You’d dug through one of them by accident and completely melted another like an incompetent fool. Kevva’s ass, you were such a disappointment. Three months in the Green and you still can’t cut a blister out properly. Not even once.

Ezra’s shoulders are wide and tense, his one hand splayed out as he walks, running over the tops of the tall ferns, catching one every now and then only to rip the top away, twirl it between his gloved fingers and toss it impatiently aside.

The other two members of your team headed out on a sling this morning, another two will be arriving in a few days. And you wonder if Ez regrets just not cutting his losses and leaving with them, or at least sending you back in exchange for another kip.

You think about shifting through the comm channels, hoping that he’s chattering away in one of them, switched without your knowledge, but it’s a lost cause. You can hear him breathing on the channel between you. It’s not often Ezra has nothing to say.

________________

You thought your father was leaving you an inheritance. It’s not the reason you took care of him through his illness, but you’d dropped everything to be back home with him through his final months. In a way, it was a blessing, a reason to quit the Dasha factory and the terrible working conditions there, come back home and focus on your dad, relive good memories, just spend time. The reconnection lifted your heart, but his death sank it low again. When you learned he had nothing to leave you but a small house and some old vehicles, you sold what you could and traded in the rest.

Then you had nothing. No family, no job, little savings, questionable future. It almost broke your spirit. But the last few months with your father rekindled your love of him as he told you about his years in the Fringe, mining and prospecting. And your heart had said, “what the hell, let’s try that.” So you listened.

It took some time to track down the right inroads, but you were able to find some ads for prospecting teams, in particular those who were willing to take on members in training for a re-distributed cut. With all provisions included--other than suit and gear, which your father’s inheritance neatly covered--it seemed like just as good of a deal as any, and an adventure to boot.

But the reality was, every team you met with was full of hardened men, and while you were not a soft Central woman, you also weren’t overly versed in weaponry and didn’t know if you could defend yourself out in the Fringe against attack if things got crusty.

You were just about ready to admit defeat when you walked into yet another conference bunker and found your match. The first thing you noticed was that he was standing when you arrived, waiting for you politely rather than manspread at the table. Second were his eyes. Deep, brown, and sad. Maybe sad was the wrong word, certainly it seemed by the lines in his face, possibly by the missing arm, that he’d seen enough sadness, but toward you, it read more as concern. You wouldn’t know it until later when he confessed his feelings about this first meeting, but he was worried you wouldn’t choose him. Ezra had a hell of a time hiring partners. He may have been one of the longest-working aurelac diggers out there, but young kippers saw his greying beard and seasoned diggers saw his lacking arm and they all tended to turn around and walk out before he even said hello. So he’d tried to put himself out there as a trainer, show that he had something more to offer.

It didn’t hurt his feelings when you admitted to him later that those qualities were exactly why you chose him. He seemed the opposite of threatening. And his eyes were bright when he smiled at you. With his thrumming baritone and his Fringe twang and his mixed deck of mosaic words, he had a way of speaking that felt like a fluffy blanket curling around you, your brain vibrating with comfort at every new monologue. He was eccentric and perhaps a little jarringly rough in his humor at times, but there was something about him that you trusted immediately, even though you’d come to learn later you probably shouldn’t have if you were being overly cautious.

Not that your judgement ever came to detriment. Not that he ever proved you wrong that way. Not when it came to you. But the man was dangerous when he had to be in a way you hadn’t initially picked up on.

________________

You hadn’t been out in the Green two weeks before you looked up from the bottom of a dig hole to see Ezra standing over you with a thrower.

“You get down and you stay down, understand?”

“Ez? What--”

“I said stay down! Do not make me waste words on mere repetition!” The fuzzy blanket of his voice replaced suddenly by a snarling, snapping brush wolf, a quick change hitting you like a slap in the ear.

There’d been pops and whizzes as shots rang through and you did as your trainer said, face down, the view of your visor giving you nothing but dirt. Your helmet was a chorus of quick breathing from both of you and sweat rolled down your neck as you begged the eyes of Kevva to look down upon your partner. When the crossfire faded, you’d heard Ezra stalk away. Then there were a couple more shots. Then more footsteps returning.

“You are permitted to stand, trinket. All is well as it can be for us. But not so much for our dearly departed friends.” These words were as soothing as much as his previous ones had burned, and he simply went back to working at the dig at hand as if he’d just come back from taking a leak. It wasn’t until you left the site that evening that you tramped past two rotting raiders, gaudily outfitted with broken face shields, left to let the Green take them.

Ezra whistled as he stepped over them, stopping only to harvest their filters and munition rods, which he tossed your way to stow in your pack, and then continued lazily down the path toward camp. Just another day on the job.

He may be a little peculiar and not someone to trifle with, he may have just killed two people without remorse or further comment, but his lack of reassuring words told you that this was just part of the deal. You wear the suit, you use the air scrubber in the tent, you follow the landing pod instructions as written, and you defend yourself against those who wish to harm you. Survival by any and all means is paramount, mundane, and something he has no qualms with on any level.

There was something deep down inside of you that instinctually pulled you to follow him, not just down the literal path before you, but whatever path Ezra chose to wander.

________________

Before you’d left the station with him, he’d taken you to a thrower range to gauge your skill which was decent in theory, but dismal compared with what he could do. No matter, he still patiently taught you how to properly clean and charge a weapon and the best way to breathe and pull the trigger; “like you’re taking hold of a man’s...well... Just go easy and firm.” He suggested you should come and practice every day before lift off and then hope to Kevva that you didn’t have to rely too heavily on it.

“If I find myself in a coffin of my own suit, then feel free to defend yourself as a final means of preservation. Otherwise, when it comes down to shots fired, best to let me do the dirty work. Might as well keep the blood where the blood has been.”

You’d been a little nervous about sharing a freighter pod alone with him, but Ezra was...well, not so much a gentleman as just a comfortable soul.

He always waited until you were hungry to eat, thinking it rude to eat alone in front of you. He never moved around the pod while you were sleeping, content to keep still with a book in his cot. And if you couldn’t sleep, he was always willing to read to you from whatever impossibly dense old world classic he was digging through for the umpteenth time, letting his voice come up from the deeps and pull you gently under. If you asked permission to turn on the radio, he’d ask you “why Isn’t it on yet, woman,” quietly tolerating your taste in harsh and gleeful babblecore pshcyopop. In the later days of the journey, he’d even come to dance with you from time to time, although both of you were dismal at it and ended up with you in a fit of giggles. It was a sure-fire way to cure a case of the pouts you carried through from the morning fitness sessions when he beat you at pushups. Again.

When it came to privacy in the tight space, he had a habit of turning away without having to be asked or stopping his stream of talk when you went to change clothes, just happily chattering away until you called the all clear. Although he was not squeamish about his own state of undress, should you happen to catch it by accident. While he was respectful of your privacy, he seemed to need none of his own, but neither did he flaunt anything. You might look up from studying the flight manual to notice he was changing into a fresh pair of compression pants, tugging them on haphazardly with one hand, more concerned with telling you the overwhelmingly disgusting manufacturing process of Bits Bars than his own ass hanging out where you might see it. At least he always changed facing away from you which was a kindness.

Until it wasn’t.

After you realized you’d fallen quietly in love with him--a sudden, soft moment on the Green--then you’d admit only privately to yourself that you wouldn’t mind if you accidentally saw a little more than the occasional shirtless attire he might wear around the tent.

But in the pod, the only part of him that had caught your curiosity was his stump, and you’d known Ezra intensely enough over the past couple of weeks where you knew he wouldn’t take offense. Especially if you asked him the right way.

“Will you tell me a story, Ezra?”

“I feel that it is my duty to do so whether you ask me to or not. Shall I choose, or is there something in particular you would like to hear?”

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, propped up against his cot, going through his kit, cleaning his gear. You waited until he noticed your lack of answer and looked up to meet your eyes. When he saw that you had put your manual down and were focusing all your quiet attention on him, he stopped his busy work.

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute. When he knows you seriously need something from him, that becomes his immediate main priority and all else can wait. It’s only gotten more intense since that day, but there is a trust that resides between you when you look into his eyes, gathering your words as he waits patiently every time to hear whatever you’re going to request of him. There’s always hope there in his big browns, always something specific he’s waiting for you to ask, and every day you get a little bit closer to understanding what it might be. But until then, any question is a welcome one, any query is met with his wish to provide.

“Will you tell me how you lost your arm?”

At first you thought you may have gone too far, that maybe you insulted him, as his eyebrows peaked together and he looked down at his hand. But then, “That is a tale that may cause you some consternation, trinket. The Green is dangerous and unforgiving, and there were times I may not have been a man worthy of fair opinion.”

“My father was a prospector, you know. I’ve heard stories. Have you ever killed anyone?”

He clicked his tongue and screwed up an eye, causing the thin white scar on his cheek to twist. Then he sighed and returned to your locked gaze. “To be honest, I have. Though I have never done so with pleasure, I have killed in defense and out of desperation, and it was out of dispatching a man in this way that I came to lose the second favorite of all my appendages.”

“Second favorite?”

“Well, it depends what you classify as a limb.” He huffed a small laugh, a spark in his eye, trying to diffuse the harsh subject in his own way.

His leaning into baseness never bothered you. There was something earthy about it, gritty and rough, but never lewd. You rewarded his crassness with a smile. “Do you plan on killing me out in the Green?”

“I would hope my murdering days are behind me, and if they are not, you would see me aim a thrower at everyone but you in the course of my spree. You are under my tutelage, and for that, I owe you a duty of care. That is my word by Kevva.”

“Then tell me the story. I like your stories. I promise not to judge now-Ezra by then-Ezra.”

A dimple formed on his cheek, a punctuation mark framing the approaching anecdote on his lips. “Then I will declare myself absolved of any sin heretofore and regale you with a clean and grateful heart.”

________________

You can see the tent through the trees and you realize with some horror that it’s just you and Ezra for the next few nights. If he’s angry with you, and this is how he is when he’s upset, the silence will be unbearable.

Even that little girl he helped out here years ago was probably more capable than you. You feel so lost in this moment, and it’s only made worse by his silence. You fumble with your communicator and hit the mute just in time to choke on a sob.

This isn’t like you. You’re not one to cry when things get rough. You hardly shed a tear when your father died. But the thought of that just brings another sob and as acting as your own psychologist you realize that you are experiencing some displaced sorrow, the odd need to please the leading male in your life, the one that’s walking ahead of you, away from you. If he’d just turn around and throw you his worn weary smile, if he’d just start up a conversation you’d know that there was hope for you, you’d know you didn’t give up everything to be here in a job you couldn’t hack.

You gotta stop this. Or it’s going to be an uncomfortable night.

Shake it off.

Once you enter the tent, the usual dance happens. Ezra reaches up to turn on the air scrubber and you unhook his filter tube from his helmet. When he turns to you, you pull open the zipper cover on his suit and start his zip for him before lifting his helmet up and off. He can pull the zip the rest of the way, but you generally pull the left collar down for him so he can get his arm out. He’s on his own from there as you turn to fuss with your own gear.

________________

You remember it starting easily enough. He was telling you a story about the breeding habits of the Tokovian Musk Owl and you could see he was having trouble with his suit zipper, yanking at it and trying to look down at it even though it was under his chin and his helmet. Without another hand to keep the fabric taut, the zip didn’t want to release, so you simply batted his hand away and started it for him. He didn’t even stop his yammering, just threw in a “thank you” somewhere in between “could hear them screeching” and “for a fuck.” He’d right out asked you the day before if you wouldn’t mind disengaging the filter tube just because it was delicate and he didn’t want to mangle the expensive part trying to pop it out one-handed day after day. And while he could manage the helmet fine enough, his prominent nose thanked you for a smoother removal for sure.

It wasn’t the only routine dance you’d concocted.

There was the harness dance.

While dig days were excruciating, you always looked forward to helping him attach the harness for his prosthesis--a kind of rigid pole attached to a shovel so you didn’t have to do all the hard digging alone. There were a couple of straps that came around his torso with multiple latches and you’d come to really enjoy wrapping your arms around him to fit the straps on. Sure, you could do the job just as easily from behind, but if you embraced him at the front, he’d usually raise his arm and let it come to rest around your shoulders while you worked. If you let yourself dream, it would be easy to imagine that he might be pressing you into him just a little bit.

And there was the harvesting dance.

On a dig, you were the one to mix the fazer and Ezra did the pour. He fished the sack, you cut the cord. You sliced the outer casing and held it open while he did the extraction. And with the flesh-covered stone, he told you every time to “hold it like you love it” so he could cut away the slippery blister before cleaning the gemstone.

It was a beautiful harmony. And the only way it worked. Because once on every dig he urged you to do a solo extraction, and on every dig, you pierced the blister and lost that stone. And on every dig, he squeezed your shoulder and told you it was a wondrous try, that he was proud of you, and there would always be another turn. There was no sarcasm, no pity, just a warm smile and ceaseless optimism even though you just lost both of you thousands in pay.

These were the first touches, these shoulder squeezes that ran down your arm on the let-go. Sometimes he would just reach out and grab onto you like a pole to help himself up, or he might stumble off balance on uneven ground and without the counterweight of his right arm he’d throw his hand out onto you to steady himself. He wasn’t beyond lightly touching the small of your back to encourage you down a path or to take your next try at a gem pull.

This was all part of something you’ve secretly named the left-handed-lover’s dance. Basically, that you keep on his left whenever you can in case he needs your help or has the inclination to reach for you. It started out as just trying to be a good partner. Then it became a passing hope that it was more than just a friendly bond. But you were both here to do a job. He was here to teach you to be an independent prospector and you were here to assist and learn. That was evident at the end of the day; once you were both in the tent and out of the suits he never touched you, never so much as bumped into you or grazed your hand in passing an item or clapped you on the arm after a good joke.

But out in the field all zipped in and helmets on, there was nothing more natural than his gentle hand guiding you or reaching for your assistance, including the day you realized you loved him.

________________

Before you can turn away to strip off your own coverings, Ezra catches your arm, spinning your face into the light. You try to shake him off, not wanting him to catch your eyes puffy from crying and your cheeks still streaked with tears, but his grip is not so gentle now and he yanks you back around to his stormy glare, chin up, brows low. His intensity paralyzes you, rendering you unable to continue your struggle when he catches your eyes with his.

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute.

His gaze travels back and forth between your eyes, waiting for an explanation, a minute so stringent it breaks you down, dissolves you into the tears you’d tried so hard to hide.

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I really am trying... I don’t know why I’m such a scuffer at this and I know it would only be right to release you from the contract and tell you to send me back but I don’t want you to, I really wanna stay, I really wanna learn and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your words have an immediate effect, softening him, pulling his glare into concern and wonder, his lips parting just the tiniest bit in surprise.

“This is the reason for your heavy mood? You think I am provoked by your proficiency in the field?”

“I crusted up good today and it seems like you’re not happy about it. Just...know that it means so much to me that...I don’t wanna let you down.”

“Oh, trinket, no.” An incredulous huff jumps out of him and his grip on your arm loosens, becomes a splayed warm support behind your shoulder, moving in soothing patterns and you’re instantly relieved that your assumptions were wrong. “You have done no harm in my book. It is not an easy thing to deliver a gem of this ilk into the world unscathed. Your opportunities have been few and scattered and it takes many sticks before a lover becomes a lothario.” He knows the crass humor will make you laugh, knows what to say to lighten your heart, to get you to soften, and bring you into his intimate, conspiratorial mood. “To be perfectly honest, I am selfish to an unrighteous degree, for every gem you burn keeps me in value to you. A worthy sacrifice to guarantee you mightn’t be so quick in your need to fly away from me until your training’s complete.”

This causes a hitch in your breath as you see the welcome turn the conversation he’s taking and you follow the path he’s making for you. “I don’t want to leave you, Ez.”

A smile creeps up one side of his mouth. “Well then I am a happy man. A bargain is struck! Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

A moment hangs between you as he rubs his thumb in slow circles on your shoulder. There’s that look in his eye again, the one where he’s waiting for you to ask the question he wants to hear from you. So close now.

Still, you’re unsure. “I guess I’m lucky I found the one person who wants an incompetent partner.”

“No, I do not, nor is it what I have and I must express my objection to your self-debasement. This work is not for the shiny, and you have not once complained about taking on the meat of the digging or the crawl of my schedule.” His hand comes to your helmet shield and he rakes his thumb across it as if he ached to wipe away one of your staleing tears. “Those bright eyes of yours got a penchant for spotting deposits more skillfully than I could ever manage and that’s not something that can be taught; that’s talent, girl. The blistering?” He shrugs. “Even I can’t manage that without the steady help of your fine hands. You may think that your blunders in education are causing us some financial ruin, but our fortunes are creamy. I assure you, we can afford it.”

That look is still there. He’s waiting. “There’s some ‘us’ and ‘we’ in there, Ez.” Your hands drift to his sides, taking fistfuls of his compression suit top, willing him closer.

The edges of his eyes take on the crinkle you’ve come to find so much comfort in. “So there is.”

You’re almost there. You know what he wants. “Why were you so quiet on the walk back?”

“Because for the next few days we are alone here and I have a mind full of questions I do not know how to ask you.”

“Then let me go first.” A yearning happiness settles in his brown eyes; finally. Finally you’ve found out what it is he needs you to request of him. “If I take this helmet off, are you going to kiss me, Ez?”

His eyes close in contentment and he nods, “Yes. Yes, little jewel. Yes I am, that and more. I hope I have inferred correctly that it is your wish that I do so, because I am in free fall. I feel my orbit ending and my pull to you is complete.”

_______________

“A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?”

Speculating days were some of your favorite times, just wading through the brush and looking for the telltale signs and shoots of an underlying deposit. Sometimes you came upon nests of strange groundling insects or flowers that only grew in secret. There were treasures underfoot on this poisonous moon, but if you remembered to look up as well, you might find some dangerous beauties there too.

On that day--the one where you finally understood your heart--you’d looked up to find that you were on a cliffside overlooking a valley, the canopy a million different hues of green, the gas giant looming over half the sky in a big pink and orange semi-circle. There was a fallen log that served as a perfect seat for the perfect view and you knew Ezra wouldn’t mind if you stole a few moments to sit and to take it in. It’s just the kind of thing he’d appreciate. And you were proven right when he came up behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he swung one leg then the other over the log, finding a perch next to you, spouting pretty words through the channel link--soft and low--about moons and orbits and obilvions.

“That glowing beauty is Bakhroma. She is quiet and fierce, made up of the unfathomable and the unknowable, always within sight, but out of reach and untouchable unless one would trade the honor with great sacrifice. She reflects the light that is given to her with a patience that is heretofore untold. And the Green Moon upon which we ride follows where she goes like a lovesick fool, spinning around her in a heady kind of adoration, full of secret treasures buried deep down that will ultimately one day belong to her, falling incrementally over eons until he finally loses himself in her, all his glories gladly forfeit to her welcome and inevitable embrace. Alone but together, seemingly eternal, pulled as one by the laws of a mysterious universe.”

The void that came after those words was filled with the beating of your heart, and you were sure he could hear it through the channel.

When he’d landed there beside you, you’d registered how his hand slid off your shoulder, diagonally down across your back, coming to rest at your waist, his arm draped lightly around you. Natural. Easy. Everything was warm--the colors of the sky, the care with which he kept you close as if to better hear the honey sweetness in his prose, the fire burning in your lungs and neck.

Ezra probably didn’t know that you spoke a little Vayok.

Bakh being the Vayok word for adornment. Ornament, Gem. Roma was a modifier, a diminutive. Small. Dear.

Bakhroma. Sentimental bauble. A little jewel.

In other words, a trinket.

All you wanted to do was sit down to take in the view of an entire world for a few moments, but by the time Ezra took your hand and helped you to your feet, all you saw was him.

________________

The helmet is barely off before his lips are sealed to yours in a press of greed. Even if he can’t form words when he kisses you, he can’t help but express his deep relief in a heartbreaking moan. It’s a fight to release yourself from the suit when he keeps pulling you against him and every time you try to get some space between you to work the zipper, he chuckles into your mouth, enjoying the tease and the struggle. It’s simultaneously frustrating and thrilling and you give in for a few moments just to give him what he seems to want so desperately right now.

Ezra kisses like a man starved for air, long, hard, and full of need, peeling his lips away only to come back for another breath of you until his initial want is slaked and he slows, allows for more time between his taking, his mouth starting to mumble against yours, praising you with pet names, telling you how perfect you are to him, how long he’s “fought against my more dubious natures to respect your womanly virtues and take them only when you could see in me a man worth bestowing them on.”

You’re able to use his weakness for monologuing to turn around in his vice-like embrace, finally freeing yourself of the suit and he takes the opportunity to drawl more pretty words in your ear, warning you that “I’m afraid I have been enamored of you overly long and may be extra eager in my attentions. So you just say the word if you need a slow down, gentle one, and I will do my best to comply. Although I will admit it will be a difficult endeavor indeed as I feel I am entering your atmosphere and nothing might quell this burn but finding some drowning place to land.”

Your first impression of him was of a man whose age and temperament and body would not be able to overpower you.

Your first impression was wrong.

Of course, it helps that you are willing.

It doesn’t take long for him to strip you down, and then himself. To kiss you down onto the floor. To find exactly where you like to be touched most and how long it takes for you to break from it. He has so many words for you, so many praises to sing about every part of you that is round or soft or wet, comparing you to things that are sweet and plush or celestial and holy. And when you take his favorite limb in hand--as wondrous as the rest of his body--and guide it to its fit, he plunders and harvests all you have to give him, filing you with himself, for as long as you call for it, as long as you let him. He loves you like he speaks to you: rough and drawn out, full of beautiful tangents and meandering plotlines, but in the end it is beautiful and fulfilling; you may be just a little bit confused how you got to the ending, but you’re completely in awe.

When you lay breathing heavy, staring but not seeing the ceiling of the tent, your consciousness seemingly lifted to see through it to the stars, to the glowing face of Bakhroma, you run hands through rough-chopped hair on a head laying on your chest. He’s listening to your heartbeat, waiting for it to slow down so he can start again. The air is thick--even the air scrubber can’t keep up with all your humidity--and there’s a halo around each bulb of the string lights just barely illuminating the darkness.

“How long, Ez?”

“Hm?”

“How long have you been waiting for that.”

“Most likely since the day you walked into my interview. I am a man of simple wants and you had all the right parts for my preferences.”

“For real, Ez.”

He tipped his head up to find you. “What you ask has many true answers, and I stand by the first. I have no qualms telling you of my weakness for a pretty succulence and a kind smile the likes of which you possess. But if you are asking when I knew I would have it, well, that may have been the first day you danced. Or when you asked me to read you to sleep. Or when I understood I wouldn’t let those bastard raiders get near enough to take their turn at your qualities when I had not had them myself. Or when you finally saw me as a viable person to drape your affections on; maybe it was that day too.”

“When I finally saw you as....”

“I have read many tomes and verses but none so full of beautiful passages as your face that day on the cliff. There is a difference of knowing and being. I knew the feel of your pull that day, but found I’d been in orbit all along.”

How he can live this way, twist everything into a tossed away poem...it should be exhausting. Yet you feed off it. You breathe it like air.

After another long cycle of frenzied entanglement and violent euphoria, you ask Ezra if he’d like to move to a cot, maybe get some sleep. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk to the dig tomorrow morning,” you confess.

“No need to worry about tomorrow,” he says, wapping his arm around you and dragging you back to him, grumbling into your ear. “We are the only prospectors in this sector and the aurelac will wait. Until our new compatriots arrive, we are officially on hiatus. Recreational mining only. Restricted to the confines of this tent. By order of your supervisor. In the interest of more precious treasures. And I intend to strike it rich.”

“Well. I’m here to assist. And learn.”

“When it comes to this dig, trinket, you are more than competent. I am no longer your trainer. Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

The new contract is struck, signed and sealed in kissing and in touch and a long, slow fall into inevitable oblivion.

#ezra x reader #ezra/reader #ezra prospect #prospect fanfic #prospect fanfiction #pedro pascal #soft #soft ezra

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burndownyourparade · 3 years ago

Text

Dabi x Reader - Crossed My Heart

This literally had zero direction. It’s my first reader insert piece and it has nothing to do with the Olivia Rodrigo song, the lyric was mainly used as a loose prompt inspiration. It’s also been a long as heck time since I’ve sat down and really written anything so oof. But, I do plan on writing some more drabbles here and there. I’ve got Dabi/Touya brain rot bad. So expect a lot of him.

You used me as an alibi. I crossed my heart as you crossed the line.

pairing: dabi x reader (gender not specified)

length: 2k words

genre: angst, fluff if you squint real hard

warnings: mentions of death, the burning at sekoto peak. nothing detailed.

You’d been there. You had watched him go up in flames. The beautiful bright blue dancing across your eyes and you knew you’d never see him again. He’d be lost to you forever, but you promised.

And you were willing to do anything for him. Even if it meant breaking your own heart.

So when you’d sit up at Sekoto Peak every year after his disappearancedeath you’d curse his name. Curse him for leaving you behind, for not coming back to you. Not even a single sign of if he was okay.. If he was still out there.

When you’d seen this new villain on the news, just a few years ago, you had an inkling. A thought that maybe it had been him. He talked big about getting back at his father. Dishing back out everything he’d had to endure as a child. And at age 15 when you encouraged him, you never thought it would come to this.

So today, when you sat up at Sekoto Peak, ten years after the incident, the spiteful, “Fuck you, Touya.” That left your lips didn’t go unheard.

In all honesty he’d planned on coming clean. He had planned on coming back to you. After all, you were the only person who really meant anything to him. But then he got way too involved with Stain’s cause and the league, there was no way he was going to risk putting you in any danger. If that meant having to write you off, then so be it.

Eventually you’d find out that Dabi was Touya, eventually you’d know that he was still alive after all these years. No more doubt would cloud your mind, but he had a feeling you’d come to hate him for waiting so goddamn long.

It was when he’d heard his name, the anger dripping from your sweet voice that had him moving his feet towards you. He wasn’t planning to reveal himself, but he needed to at least try redeeming himself before even thinking of continuing his plan to bring down Endeavor. None of it would have meant anything if he couldn’t come back to you. If he wasn’t going to be able to run away with you like the two of you had planned.

“You have to promise you won’t tell anyone about this.” Touya held your hands in his, begging you. He was tired and run down. Bandages wrapped around his arms from his most recent burns. He didn’t know how he was going to do it. But he was going to fake his death. He was going to run away.

You stared at him, wide eyed and reluctantly nodded your head to his plea. “Will I see you again?” The fear was evident in your voice and if that quiver didn’t give you away, then the way that your hands shook in his would. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision, but you could still see him. You could see his messy white hair fall into his bright blue eyes. You could see the bruise that was forming under the left eye, no doubt a result of training. And you wondered if this was his only solution. If this was really the only way that he’d be able to outrun this.

He could practically feel the pain reverberating off of you, it bounced off of him too. He didn’t want to leave you. But he had no other choice. He was trapped and all he wanted was to make something of himself. To prove to his father and everyone around him that he wasn’t worthless, he wasn’t a lost cause. He could do it, too. He was powerful just like Shoto.

Touya was torn, he knew that this hurt you… Leaving you hurt him too, even if you couldn’t see it. Even if he was acting selfishly. “Of course.” He nodded, snow white hair moving wildly with the frantic nodding of his head. “I’ll come back for you and we’ll run away.” He promised, you could see the makings of a plan in his head. The way that his eyes moved when he was deep in thought, “We can start a life together. Build a house and adopt all the cats and dogs you want!” His hands moved to your shoulders, shaking you lightly with excitement before pulling you into him. His arms wrapping around you tightly.

He never cried in front of you, but today was different. He didn’t know when he’d see you after today, but he did know he refused to break his promise to you. A single tear slipped down his cheek.

“I love you, Touya.” You murmured into his shirt, breathing him in. If this was the last time in a while, then you were going to make the most of it. You tilted your head, looking up at him. Sadness washing over you and feeling your own tears begin to slip. You leaned up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and felt the way his lips turned upwards in a soft smile. An almost dreamy looking flashing across his face.

“I love you too, (y/n)... I’ll come back for you, I swear.” His hands shifted again, this time to cup your cheeks and bring your lips to his. This kiss was soft and sweet, not unlike ones you’ve shared before but there was a sense of urgency to this one. Almost like he had been trying to convey every single thing he felt for you in this brief moment. He didn’t want to pull away, but when he did he felt your hands tighten around the fabric of his shirt. Just barely hearing your whisper begging him not to go, but he shook his head, gently moving your hands to take a step back from you.

“Please don’t watch…” Touya asked, giving you a gentle shove away from him. “Once you see my flames run… Run and tell someone about the fire and then go home. I’ll see you again soon, I promise.”

You bit your lip and nodded your head, running a safe distance away into the trees. Waiting to watch his flames burn around him. You stuck around a little longer than he’d asked you to, only to make sure that he was safe… That he was still okay. But you couldn’t make out anything other than the heat and Touya’s screams.

At fifteen your heart shouldn’t have shattered that hard.

He didn’t know how you’d react to this. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was doing. Dabi had never planned on this. He was merely moving on pure emotion now. On things he thought he had forgotten, but when it came to you he was always weak. The only reason his resolve had even broken in the first place was because of how angry you sounded. The villain hated the thought of him becoming nothing to you. Ironic, when he was practically nothing to everyone else.

You stood in the same place where you both had parted ten years ago and he was quietly standing just a few feet behind you. He was uncertain of if he should reach out to you or just turn and run, was this even a good idea? But his feet wouldn’t stop and then his mouth started moving and before he knew it, he was speaking.

“This Touya guy must have really fucked up, huh?” He cringed, ten years and this was the first thing he was saying to you? Ideally, in his head, whatever he’d dreamt up in his spare time was grandiose plans of sweeping you off your feet. He’d be done with the league, ready to pack up and start brand new. He’d have taken down Endeavor’s credibility and shattered Enji’s entire world. Yeah, that son of his who wasn’t going to amount to anything? He was something now. He was his greatest nightmare and deepest failure. And the consequences of his actions were coming back to bite him in the ass. Then, he’d be there for you. In the night he’d have found you, confessed his deepest feelings and that nothing had changed. Then you’d run away like he promised.

Your fists clenched at your sides, you recognized that voice, of course you did. How wouldn’t you when his promise haunted your dreams every night? His voice was a little deeper, raspier, richer. And for a moment, you hesitated in turning to face him, but when you did you couldn’t stop the way that your heart picked up pace. It was him, in the flesh, Touya was here. But he wasn’t Touya anymore… Not on the outside.

“Yeah, he’s a fucking asshole.” You played along with him. Both of you knew this was just a game, testing the waters to see if anything had really changed. “Promised he’d come back for me, but never showed up.” There was a smile on your face now, a sad one and Dabi felt his heart clench in his chest when he saw it. “Waited ten years for him.” You pressed, watching his reactions.

He deflated, he didn’t have an excuse. He could have come to you sooner and he knew that his whole keeping you safe excuse was bullshit. Dabi was just afraid. He was afraid of what you’d think when you saw him again. Dabi wasn’t Touya. He didn’t look like the boy you’d fallen in love with before. Smooth, pale skin was now rough and charred, the white hair with tufts of red now dyed black and coarse from the years of mistreatment. “I’m sorry.” Was all he could say.

“You could have come to me.” Your voice was soft and he knew that you were hurt. “Why didn’t you come back for me?” The way that your voice cracked made his heart break. He prided himself on being hard, on not allowing himself to feel petty emotions anymore, but unbeknownst to his comrades; you’d always be the only exception.

He was honest with you, “I was afraid.” And it was the first time in ten years that he’d been vulnerable, he was almost ready to run off with you. Dabi was ready to give up on his revenge plot against Endeavor, he just wanted to run away with you. To be just (y/n) and Touya.

“Of what?” You asked, nearly breathless and unbelieving. There was nothing he had to worry about. It didn’t matter who he was now or what he was doing. He would always be Touya to you. A boy who suffered more than he should have. The boy that you were ready to drop everything and run off with. The only boy you had ever loved and would ever love.

“I’m not the same.” He looked at you, uncertain. He still hadn’t gotten any closer to you and his hands twitched with anticipation. It had been so long since he’s held you. Dabi wanted to close the distance, to pull you into him and feel whole again.

“You’re still you.” You countered, shaking your head. You weren’t about to give the villain any room for excuses. He was still him and that’s all he’d ever be to you. You knew that he knew that.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, this time Dabi took a step closer to you. Carefully watching your movements, gauging on if he could move any closer. When there wasn’t any move on your part to shift away from him he took another step. And another.. Another, another, until he was wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. His lips gently touch the crown of your head, inhaling your scent. “Run away with me.”

You returned his touch almost immediately, arms wrapping around his thin middle. Melting into him and letting out a sob of relief, you were home again. “I thought you’d never ask.”

84 notes · View notes

that-gt-and-vore-stuffs · 3 years ago

Text

Experiment 05SB

Alternatively titled “I’m sorry 2B don’t hate me please”

I hath given in to the M4dc0m brain rot at the cost of me now having written a 7k+ word fic because I’m not confident enough in my art skills to draw it at the moment. Here we go!

Oh, there’s also implied fatal in this (it’s of unnamed characters, plus this is M4dc0m, but I’ve gotta say it. I guess you could take it as reformation if you really wanted to.). Mentions of blood I guess?

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Ey 2b? You there?” Deimos’s voice crackled to life through the plastic earpiece currently jammed into his left ear, yanking the hacker and unofficial ‘team medic’ as he was called once (much to his own confusion. Sure, he knew basic medical but by no means was he any sort of doctor) back into reality. A brief moment passed in the silence of his room, more often called ‘the lab’, of their base before everything came crashing back at once. Deimos, Sanford, and Hank were out raiding a A.A.H.W warehouse at his instruction. Meaning he was alone in their base, also known as a breaking down appartement they had taken shelter in. It had electricity and provided shelter from the harsh hell scape that had once been the state of Nevada. A dark red sunless sky overhead, vegetation and any ecosystems completely wiped out from what they’d seen, bandits and zeds equally ready to eat the nearest person if it meant living another day, the Agency hunting you down if they thought you’d possibly be working against them or with the infamous Hank J. Wimbleton, and having little to no essential resources for days at a time to top it all off like some twisted cherry on this sick cake. Home sweet fucking home.

“Doc? Helllloooo?” Shit, right. Deimos.

“Sorry, I’m here. What is it Deimos?”

“And the medic lives!” The small cheer was accompanied by laughter from the smallest member of the team. Jebus, how was he able to joke in even the most dire situations?

“Just get to the point, chucklehead.” 2b could hear Sanford add in over the static, the man’s laughter just barely making it to tired ears.

“Right right, sorry man. Anyway, if we wanted to get food on the way back would you say no?” Pardon? There was no way he was hearing that right. There were several reasons why he couldn’t be hearing that right. A. food wasn’t by any means the easiest thing to come by in this hellhole, B. restaurants weren’t really a common thing anymore so those were out of the picture, and C. there’s no way they could p- actually, scratch that last one. Robbing a corpse wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that those three had done. Not by a long shot. Still though, how was he supposed to respond to that request?

“…what?” Apparently by asking the first word on his mind.

“We saw that one hotdog vendor on the way here and we’re all starving. Can we or can we not get hotdogs on the way back?” Oh. That’s what Deimos ment. How on earth had that hotdog vendor not been killed yet?

“Is this a genuine ‘we’ or is it a ‘me’, Deimos?” That seemed like a more fair and answerable question.

“Hey I-!”

“It’s a genuine ‘we’ Doc,” Sanford’s voice chimed in. By the cursing in the background 2b could imagine that he had flipped up Deimos’s mic to temporarily mute him in the realm of their earpieces. “Pretty sure one of our stomachs gave us away to the last group of agents we had to take out. Not gonna point fingers but I’m pretty sure it was Hank- Ack! I’m just saying!”

“Thought we weren’t pointing fingers.” There was the third voice. Rough from years of fighting yet still all too recognizable as Hank. The same Hank J. Wimbleton on the wanted posters that scattered the walls of almost every nearby building, wanted dead by the Auditor and his whole agency. He must’ve smacked Sanford for his comment. Well at least he didn’t do worse, whether on purpose or accident.

“We aren’t. Now Cmon Doc, you never answered my question.” Hearing the other hacker’s voice ask for an answer again 2b sighed. Always eager, wasn’t he? How the man had seemingly endless energy on missions would forever remain a mystery to him, Jebus be damned.

“I don’t really care what you do on the way back so long as you all come back in one piece and with the stuff I sent you there for. Understood?”

“Aye aye, Captain Doc! Over and out!” And there they went. The earpiece went dead, leaving 2b on his own once again once he flicked up his own mic. Back to silence. Sweet sweet silence. It wasn’t often they got that in their shared apartment of a base. Someone was always awake, someone was always saying something. It was never really quiet unless you were lucky enough to be the only one awake. 2BDamned had seen plenty of those rare times, if only because he overworked himself and didn’t sleep. So maybe it was one of his less than desirable qualities, when living in a hellscape being ten steps ahead of the agency trying to kill you is always good. He had to keep that up, on top of keeping the others alive and well.

And then there was his little experiment. That also was taking a toll on how little he slept. Not all that long ago the trio had returned from a mission with the data he had requested and more. Specifically a duffel bag full of seemingly shrunken grunts and two only slightly bigger shrunken MAGs. Pft, how funny it was to say that. A shrunken MAG. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it if you told him with no proof. The idea seemed insane. Oh but it wasn't. Not by a long shot if the cages sitting on one of his tables said anything. Normally he’d call such a thing like keeping people in cages inhumane, not that there were many humane things in this hellhole to begin with. He’d expect keeping them in cages that probably used to be for pets to be a move pulled by the Agency, not himself, however he had to make do with what they could find and had access to. Also known as: not much at all. He wanted to study them after all. Letting them free was just not an option.

Now that probably sounds bad, studying living beings like himself, but one couldn’t blame 2b when you considered his situation (at least he hopes one couldn’t). Somehow the Agency found a way to shrink living beings. That’s power that could be used against him and the others to make everything turn for the worst, something which he wanted to avoid at all costs. However, if one of his teammates or himself were to be shrunken on a mission it would be possibly lifesaving to know how to reverse the effects. Plus, having the power to shrink enemies on their side could certainly prove useful. All that being said, he needed these few alive in order to try and figure out what caused them to be how they were. Hence the repurposed, beat up pet cages. Two of them to be exact. One held the grunts and the other for the two MAG agents. None of them had killed each other yet, so that was nice. A few simple experiments and a dissection of a grunt that had been dead upon arrival to him proved that they still functioned as they would if they were their normal size. Just on a smaller scale. He had sent Hank, Deimos, and Sanford out for supplies today, yes, though if they found any information regarding the shrinking of their little ‘guests’ then they were to bring it to him. With no information on that though, he had to continue his other work. Tired eyes met the screen through red goggles. Moments later his head found itself cushioned in the crook of one of his arms.

“What the hell.” 2b grumbled, a fresh headache slowly starting to pound against the inside of his skull. What the hell was up with him? He should be fine. This was only his second day without proper ‘longer-then-15-minutes’ sleep. He’d gone longer before, he should be able to function. Why was the screen giving him such a headache now of all times? He needed to get stuff done. He needed to finish up this…this……what was he working on again? Hold on, no, he should remember. This shouldn’t be slipping his mind like it is. Maybe if he just thought back a few minutes. It would come back to him, right?

“Ok right before Deimos called, what was I doing?” 2b thought out loud to himself, trying his hardest to recall what had happened prior to the call from his allies. ”I was sitting here…then Deimos called in. Wait, no. Go back. From the top. Since…however long ago I’ve been sitting here, working on…what was I working on before Deimos asked about getting food? I sent them on the raid, didn’t eat, got to work and- no. That’s not it. Why can’t I just-“

Gggnnnnnnrrrr…

Oh well fuck him. That’s why he couldn’t focus. 2b groaned, not bothering to hide the noise as of now. He was alone, no one would hear him or tease him. Unless you would count the shrunken men in the cages, however it wasn’t likely they’d say anything. When you’re the size of a rat, spare the MAGs who were more rabbit sized, to your captor pissing them off seemed like the worst thing one could do. Clearly the hacker wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with teasing, so their mouths remained shut. That left 2b alone to deal with his complaining stomach, a feat which proved easier said than done when one was going off a day and a half without properly sleeping. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate something. It was all just fuzzing together at this point.

Pushing himself off his desk 2b flopped back into the worn chair he’d been sitting in for God knows how long. Relaxing into the backrest was certainly more comfortable than being hunched over a laptop screen typing away like he had been for the past day or two. A hand fell to rest over his stomach while the other removed his goggles. Those were not helping the blooming headache. A low growl from his stomach drew a small hiss through his teeth, the sound being accompanied by a familiar empty cramping.

“Oh you can shut up.” He grumbled at the organ half heartedly, “It’s not like I can eat anything right now. There’s a reason I sent Hank and the others out.” His stomach growled back, the empty sound ringing in the hacker’s ears. He needed to eat, that was undeniable. The problem was getting something to eat. He had few options, none of which he particularly liked. Option 1. going out to look for something even slightly edible on his own, option 2. wait and hope the others found and brought back food, or option 3. contact the others through his headset and ask them to get him something on the way back. The first option was clearly undesirable on its own and the other two weren’t much better. Sure, asking them to grab something for him would probably be easiest and most logical, however he was almost certain that they didn’t want to hear that out of the blue in the middle of a fight. That and he didn’t want to deal with any teasing that might come along with asking. He wasn’t about to take that chance when he had things to do. He couldn’t remember those things at the moment, sure, but they were still things he had to do! So asking was not an available option at the moment. That left waiting and hoping for the best.

Rrrrrrrnnngggggg….

“I know. I don’t like the idea either.” 2b sighed as he spun around in his chair, gently patting his stomach. He needed to get out of his chair, even if it was just a walk around his room. He needed something after a day and a half straight of sitting there hunched over staring at a screen. Maybe it’d help with the headache if he was lucky. Probably wouldn’t but hey a man could dream. With a small grunt of effort the hacker found himself on his feet, his balance wobbling and legs feeling like brittle pasta beneath him. Ah, that's what I wanted to do earlier. Go figure taking breaks gets ignored by my brain. “However, I do believe it’ll end with the best result. I’m sure they’ll be home soon anyway.”

They wouldn’t. That was a lie, to himself and to his stomach alike. He likely had a few more hours alone, maybe two at least. The A.A.H.W warehouse he’d sent them to was big and if you account for fighting delays and them stopping on the way back then the chance of them being back in the next two hours would be some sort of miracle. By the way his stomach reacted every time he brushed over the thought that the trio was getting food on the way back then he wasn’t going to be looking so hot by the time they arrived back. Oh he was going to get the short end of the stick no matter what he did, wasn’t he? Talk about luck. 2b sighed, running a hand up and through his hair as he walked along one of the walls of his small room. His stomach clearly wasn’t shutting up any time soon so the next best course of action would be to ignore it. Maybe that would help him wait it out. What could he focus on? There was work, he could clean up a little bit maybe, or he could focus on the rattling coming from the cages and-

Hold on.

That most certainly wasn’t right. 2b cocked an eyebrow, crossing the room to where the three cages were placed. Quite the interesting scene was playing out before him. From what he could see a few of the shrunken grunts were teaming up to try and break out of the cages. This wasn’t their first little escape attempt, no, but it interested him enough as he stood there watching and attempting to grab his tablet at the same time. Eventually he had succeeded, opening up a new document to scribble down a few notes.

Title: Log 073SB

Time: 6:34 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: Grunts working together to attempt escape. MAG agent seems to be attempting to cause a distraction by rattling the wall of the cage. Or perhaps they just want out. Very annoying either way. None seem bothered by my presence.

Satisfied with his little note, 2b closed the tablet and set it down on the counter next to one of the cages. Whether it was him being too rough with setting the tablet down or the low grumble from his stomach that startled the cage of grunts was up for debate, but currently he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now he needed to have a chat with the little troublemakers. Without hesitation the unofficial medic reached forward, opening the little hinged door located on top of the cage with ease compared to what the grunts inside were attempting before. He didn’t think twice before he reached in and grabbed the two topmost grunts from the pile of attempted escapees before retracting his hand, repeating the process with his other hand, and finally closing the cage. Hands now full, each holding two fighting bodies, the hacker sighed.

“Escape huh? How many times have you already tried that and it didn’t work?” 2b asked, a less than impressed tone lacing his voice. Sure, he needed a distraction from his stomach but he didn’t want to have to deal with escape attempts left and right for the next however long. “What made you think it’d go any different this time?”

There was a moment of silence before a soft voice spoke up, one that clearly hadn’t been used recently. One of the grunts in his left hand. “W-we figured i-if we actually tried and w-worked together then maybe we’d b-be able to manage a successful…e-escape…”

“Really now? Interesting.” 2b mumbled, looking over the grunt in his hand. They were all so small. You’d think he’d have gotten used to their size by now but every time he held one it seemed to slap him in the face. Offing them if they got too rowdy wouldn’t be hard at all. Wouldn’t need to use anything to begin with. How crazy it was. “Though I’m not sure I can let this slide as I have with previous instances.”

“W-what?” His response seemed to temporarily stun the four in his hands, most likely because of how it was different from his previous comments on their attempted escapes. A shiver passed over them like a wave while the hacker only nodded.

“Your previous attempts at escape. While I can understand why one would try I’ve made it quite clear that successful escapes won’t be happening nor tolerated, correct? I need to prove my point here because you all clearly don’t understand words.” He shifted on his feet slightly, a new question wracking his brain. What could he do to show he wasn’t going to deal with constant escape attempts? It had to be something that stuck, seeing as they clearly didn’t understand his earlier comments about escape not being tolerated. Only a few moments of silence passed before his lips were moving again. “You four are going somewhere else. A stronger holding space. If any of the others try anything they’ll join you. Simple, yet effective.” Or it would be if he knew exactly where he planned to stick these four. What did he have that could serve as a stronger cell for them? The cages were already pretty secure in terms of what he could work with. He just needed something stronger, close to him, hard to escape, and threatening that held a sense of danger with it. But what could that be? His eyes darted around the makeshift lab, trying to find something.

Grrrrroowwwllll…

2b’s eyes slowly scanned down from his shaking captives to his stomach. For a moment he just stared, eyes lacking any readable emotion. Well now that was certainly an option. It fit his criteria. Almost too well. Strong, hard to escape, close to him, and it held a sense of danger. Under his mask his torn and scared lips quirked up into a little smirk. “Mmhm. That’ll do quite nicely, in fact~”

The final moments of peace were shattered as the meaning of his words collided with his captives like a well aimed punch to the gut. Hearts sunk to their feet like rocks in water, despair rearing it’s head in their struggles. Those fortunate enough to remain in the cages simply watched with a muted horror as the four bodies were tossed onto the table and held down with little to no effort. The hacker wasted no time removing the mask and bandages that usually covered his mouth, tossing the fabrics haphazardly beside his discarded tablet. Despite the word fresh being the last thing he’d use to describe the Nevada air, 2b knew he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to just breathe the air in alone and not through the layers of fabric like he often did. With the temporary roadblock now gone his eyes drifted downward to the bodies pinned beneath his hand.

“Well, I believe that eliminates any preventable issues we could encounter here.” He hummed softly, plucking the grunt who was covered by his hand the least up into the air. It certainly was odd to watch the little body squirm and fight against him, all attacks on the two fingers holding it proving futile. Their only hope seemed to be 2b letting them go, something which proved less and less likely the longer they studied the look in the hackers eyes. It wasn’t a look one ever wanted to find themself on the receiving end of. The sight of sharp teeth, glimmering with saliva through grinning lips, certainly did not help to lower the grunt’s heart rate at all. 2b simply clicked his tongue. “Meaning stalling time is up. Stay still, won’t you?”

The grunt did not, in fact, stay still. It was impossible to do so as far as they knew when you had a spit soaked tongue dragging up every inch of your front, sharp daggers of teeth only millimeters from their face. A deafening silence washed over the others, only being broken by a small pleased hum from their normal sized captor.

“Not bad…” the man mumbled, dragging his tongue up the squirming grunt yet again. A small voice in the back of his mind, his voice of reason, yelled out the obvious loud and clear to him plenty of times: this was wrong. It wasn’t right to be doing what he was about to do. This was stooping down to the bandits level, something he never intended to do unless absolutely necessary. He shouldn’t be enjoying the taste of another living being like this. And yet…here he was. Ignoring any logic and reason in his mind to proceed with this. Thank goodness he was alone. 2b didn’t even want to think about what the others might say if they were to see him how he was now. Shaking his head softly he shoved away the thought, opening his jaw as far as the joint and scarred tissue that made up his cheeks would allow. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned with how easily the small body slipped into his mouth.

Despite their best efforts to squirm free of their new confinement, the slippery surroundings of the unofficial doctor’s maw proved to have horrible traction. Saliva dropped onto the unfortunate grunt’s head from above while they desperately tried to crawl out of the dark cavern. Feet scrambled on the soaked surface of their predator’s tongue as the muscle moved and flipped them around as if they were some piece of candy, all while their hands desperately tried to keep as little of them between the axe like teeth. One bite and they were done for, a terrifying thought. Through it all only three sounds were ever heard from those lucky enough to not be in the current grunt’s position. The sickening sounds of soaked struggle, terrified yelps from the grunt stuck within 2b’s jaws, and the occasional hum from the man himself. The torture, as those watching from the cage would describe it, seemed to continue for hours and hours on end.

Glk

Glp~

Until it all stopped with two simple swallows and a collective gasp of horror from those watching. The relaxed posture of the man they all watched failed to help their situation.

“H….huhh…that was..” the uncertified medic breathed, breaking the silence. His free hand lazily felt down his throat, tracing where he could feel the squirming body slip further down by the second. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that the less angry sounding gurgle from the man’s stomach signaled the end of the unfortunate grunt’s descent. With eyes widened just beyond his natural look 2b gently pressed his stomach. How interesting it was, as morbid as it might sound, to feel something squirming around inside the organ. Before he could even stop to consider a better way to word his thoughts, he finished his sentence. Just not in the way the grunts wanted to hear. “…incredibly easy.”

The last thing any of the remaining grunts wanted to see was those eyes scan up slowly before locking on them as if they were some sort of dessert. The clearly out of place smile on the man’s face didn’t help the feeling of impending doom either. If anything it only made it worse as a rough hand plucked another grunt from the selected three that had remained under his hand. Down, beneath his newfound curiosity and odd urge to continue what he was doing, 2b knew he should have been more concerned about how easy this was coming to him. No sane person would take so calmly to swallowing living beings, especially not of his own kind. Yet here he was, smirking as he licked over his scarred lips with cold eyes locked onto the small shaking body like a cat would after spotting a mouse. Looking at their sizes in comparison to one another? The simile was scarily accurate. Through his whole little mental debate the hacker found it all too easy to slip the small body into his mouth, licking it over to draw out as much of that strangely addicting taste before slowly beginning to nudge it back. Just bit by bit until it was far enough.

Glrk

Grk~

“Two down…haahhh…two to go…” the hacker sighed as he traced the lump down his throat. There was a waiting period once more but it didn’t last long before the shiver inducing gurgle signified where the poor soul had ended up. How the man hadn’t gotten sick yet was beyond the understanding of those who witnessed the event and even the man himself. Surely he should feel at least a little nauseous with two rat sized bodies squirming within his stomach. Nausea and fullness were the two sensations he had expected by now and yet neither had shown their face yet. Deep within his mind, from an area he didn’t even know existed until it spoke, a voice urged him to test his limits. 2b had shaken that idea off nearly immediately. As….enticing as that idea was, he still needed a few of the shrunken grunts alive and well to continue his attempts to recreate and reverse however the Agency had shrunken them before. Four however….well that wasn’t the biggest loss in the world if something happened to go wrong. Leaning a little more heavily over the table he grabbed one of the last two grunts, shoving the struggling body into his mouth head first. Quite the sight it was to watch flailing legs be slurped into someone’s mouth like nothing more than wet noodles. Interesting and horrifying.

Glp

Glrk~

Though compared to seeing someone who had been beside you ten minutes ago disappear down your captor’s throat as nothing more than a barely visible lump would top it in the scarring scale. Nothing could compare to that sight. Good god was it terrifying. The reality that escape was impossible was all but cemented into the remaining grunts' brains now, as that had been what had gotten their companions into this situation in the first place. This was happening because their capturer wanted to prove his point that attempted escape would not be tolerated. At this point they were convinced they’d have to have a death wish to attempt escape now. Especially when their conditions weren’t horrible compared to what they could be in, something which hadn’t crossed their minds till now. Now don’t take their words wrong, by no means did they want to stay here. Especially not now. However, if it meant living another day and not ending up as lunch? Staying definitely was the preferable option.

“One to go. Damn.” The hacker's voice snapped all attention back to him. His position had changed, now leaning back on the table as he looked over the struggling form in his hands. The words seemed to flow from his mouth without too much thought needed behind them. They just felt…right. It was a feeling he never expected to experience in such a context that he was now, much less to have it almost piloting him as it felt now, but he was nearly willing to say he welcomed it. He wasn't well acquainted with the idea of eating living beings after all, so the subconscious help to ease the process along wasn’t something he’d push away. Not unless it were to cause an issue that is. However, nothing of the sort had happened yet, meaning he was going to keep letting his actions flow naturally.

Just as he had with the three before this one, 2b wasted little time starting towards his goal. Raising the grunt just above his head the man dangled the flailing body over his open mouth, a sight that he could assume would terrify anyone in the grunt’s position. All went smoothly as he lowered the small body in. That is until the grunt, having seen an opportunity and taken it, grabbed and yanked down his mic. While he tried to react as quickly as possible, he could only pray the microphone had not managed to pick up the gag he’d made after panic and shock had caused him to jolt forward and send the grunt to the back of his throat. He flipped up the mic as fast as he could, trying to determine the best course of action one could take with a squirming body halfway down their throat and a possibility of having just been ratted out to the others by their lunch. He was screwed were they to find out, what with how at least two of the three always seemed to be looking for teasing ammunition. That and this….well this wasn’t exactly normal, you know.

“Doc? Is everything ok over there?” Fuck. That wasn’t good. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in his chest the best he could, 2b took a deep breath and forced the fourth grunt down with a swallow that took a little more effort then he felt it should’ve. Flipping down the mic, he answered.

“Damnit- yes. I'm fine, Sanford. Don’t worry.” The sentence had to be his least convincing lie yet. Between his heavy breathing and dryness in his throat he could tell his voice wasn’t helping him in any way. Now he didn’t take his teammates for idiots, despite how it sure seemed like they were sometimes, but in the moment he found himself wishing they were.

“You sure? You don’t sound all that fine. Did something happen back at base?” The worry beginning to lace the man’s voice through the static filled earpiece only served to worsen the feeling of dread in 2b’s chest. He needed to get Sanford, and the others who were no doubt listening, off the idea something had happened. He needed to deal with the whole I-just-swallowed-four-people-alive thing before they came back, so them returning early was not in the plan.

“No, nothing happened.” He shot back, only realizing the speed in his voice wasn’t too reassuring after he said it. Ok, what was a believable excuse for why he sounded like he did? “I just…spilt coffee on my legs after burning my mouth. Must’ve knocked the mic down in the process.” With a hand to his chest the hacker forced a soft swallow, trying to at least get rid of the uncomfortable dryness that had settled in the back of his throat. Please say they believed that.

“Pft, really? Damn, wish I could’ve seen that. Think you looked like one of those old cartoons, Doc?” Phew, crisis averted.

“Real funny, Deimos. Get back to your mission.” 2b shook his head at the comment. At least they seemed to believe him. It was worth it, even if the mental image of those over exaggerated cartoon characters was now going to show up whenever he even slightly burnt his mouth on coffee. Oh well, some sacrifices must be made.

“Alright alright. We’re going.” The man on the other end laughed. Those idiots. Damn his heart caring for them, now he was attached. “See you when we get back. Over and out, Doc!” And there they went.

Fighting off his own soft laughter, 2b flipped up his mic. A soft sigh escaped him before he could even think to stop it. That could’ve been horrible. While one hand softly rubbed at his neck, sore from what he had to guess was the miniature disaster that just took place, the other gently laid itself over his stomach. The four inside never seemed to stop moving, constantly squirming and slipping about. There were a handful of reasons he could assume was the cause, though the most likely was that being shoved into a soaking wet moving sack with three of your colleagues provided little traction or ability to get comfortable. That and panic. Panic was probably a rather big factor in how they were feeling. 2b, on the other hand, had to be feeling the exact opposite of how they were. The warm weight of his four ‘victims’ was a welcome sensation within the previously empty pit of his stomach. As twisted as he knew it sounded, he would’ve been confident saying that what he was feeling was honestly satisfactory. Why having living beings stretch and actually round out his stomach in a barely noticeable way was causing this feeling was a mystery to him, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when it felt this nice.

“I hope I’ve made my point clear.” The unofficial medic hummed, looking over to the grunt filled cage. They had backed away from him by now, huddled in the back most corner of their confines. The sight drew a genuine laugh from the man they all seemed to fear ten times more than before. Well that was proof if he’d ever seen it. Looks like their escape wasn’t something he had to worry about any more. So maybe he sacrificed a little of his ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ act for this. It was worth it in his eyes. And besides, he was probably the most gentle with them out of his whole little gang. If they wanted to be left with one of the others then go ahead. Although being left with the mercenary who you were created to kill didn’t sound like the most fun time to him. Smirking, he collected his goggles, mask, and tablet from the table. “It seems I have. Glad we could have this little -hic!- chat. Heh.”

He gave the cage a pat, the rattling of the metal only serving to scare the grunts further back in the ball of bodies they’d curled into, before turning to walk back to his desk. He needed to sit down. Standing apparently became a lot harder when you had four people fighting against your insides. Thinking back, he didn’t know what he would have expected. Did he stumble a little bit trying to get back to his desk? Yes, he did. It was like he forgot how to walk in all honesty. Another reason he was glad he was alone in their base. Like most things though it proved worth it when he finally collapsed into the worn chair he used for work. Without thinking twice he opened his tablet and started a new log.

—————————

“Doc! We’re back!” The call rang out through the appartement, followed by three sets of footsteps marching their way in and the door slamming shut perhaps a little stronger than needed. As the hinges of the door stopped rattling the three expected to hear a displeased groan, followed by the ruffled form of 2b appearing in the hallway to scold them for being so aggressive or something like tracking blood into the base. Honestly, why he still bothered was a mystery to them, at least Sanford and Deimos for they had zero clue what went on in Hank’s head, for the most part. They were mercenaries, fighters, people looking to not end up with their brains splattered on the wall or something worse. They were going to be bloody upon returning, even if that blood wasn’t their own. It wasn’t like their floors were carpet or anything either. In the end though they never bothered to fight the scoldings. No use making the unofficial medic mad, especially if they needed help. The lack of disgruntled medic in the hallway or at least yelling when silence returned to the room was worrying. After a minute or two with nothing spoken and no ruffled hacker to be seen, Deimos tried again to call him.

“2b?” He called out, peering down the hallway which led to their rooms. There wasn’t any blood on the walls, a good sign to start, and no bullet holes that weren’t there before. Unless the Agency suddenly learned how to do stealth missions, something he and he knew the other two were hoping wasn’t the case, he had hopes. Again, no response from the man. Gun still in his hand he took one glance back to the others, a silent ‘follow me’, before continuing down the hallway. Although Deimos had made it to the closed door first he’d been pushed past by the red goggle wearing giant as he reached for the doorknob. Hank had been the one to open the door to 2b’s room. He’d also been the first of the trio to feel the tension in his shoulders drop. It wasn’t long after he had relaxed that he was shoved into the room by two bodies trying to get in and see any damage that could’ve been done while they were gone. The sight of 2BDamned softly snoring away in his chair, nothing in the room seeming out of place, was most certainly a welcome one.

“Ah. So that’s why he isn’t barking us up a tree for your entrance, Dei.” Sanford hummed with a laugh, careful to watch his volume. If there was one thing he didn’t want to deal with after their mission it was a cranky Doc who got woken up by them. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t necessarily sleep after all and there was no way he could survive off coffee like he seemed to silently claim he could sometimes. They all had times when their sleep schedules were fucked.

“Oh shut up, ‘Ford.” Deimos shot back with a playful punch to the man’s bicep. “It’s not like I’m the one who slammed the door. That’s what he would’ve been on our asses about.”

“You slammed it open then yelled loud enough for all of Nevada to hear you. Don’t act like you’re innocent!”

As the two’s words morphed into friendly bickering Hank took it upon himself to deliver the bit of what they got that couldn’t stay in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at the moment. Buried in the pocket of his jacket was a small object. Something he hadn’t expected to find, but had snagged nonetheless when it had been pointed out by Deimos. For a second as he walked over to the man a rough hand dug around fabric, fingers gripping plastic as he arrived at his destination. Without thinking he tossed the USB onto the hacker’s desk, eyes wandering over small things like the empty coffee mug or discarded goggles. Behind red-tinted goggles they landed on the man’s tablet, the screen now illuminated thanks to what he could assume had been the small drive hitting the desk. Prying wasn’t something he often did when it came to his teammates, respecting their privacy as they often did his, but after a certain word caught his eye he couldn’t help but read the log that had popped up.

Title: Experiment 05SB

Time: 7:42 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: I…cannot believe I’m about to write this. This is update one of Experiment 05SB, an experiment started without much if any bit of a proper plan behind it. Phase I, I suppose you could call it, was a success. The shrunken grunts are, in fact, small enough to swallow whole and…alive. MAGs have not yet been confirmed to be the same way, though I’m sure that answer will show itself one day. I am unsure why I am able to keep four of them down without feeling nauseated, but I can. I will update at a later time when more information has presented itself.

The log ended there, eyes falling away from the screen as Hank’s mind worked to process the information it had just been given. According to what had been written before the man had fallen victim to sleep, it was not only possible to swallow the shrunken beings sitting in one of the cages behind him, but the unofficial doctor had done it himself. Four times to be exact. Curiosity grabbed control of his eyes, slowly panning them up to the cage of grunts who looked noticeably more terrified than they usually did. Had they seen the whole thing go down? His mind continued to wander, finding new questions like how on earth the hacker had managed to keep living and no doubt moving beings down like the log said he did. That is unless he’d spit them up before falling asleep. However that seemed highly unlikely-

“Snooping around Doc’s stuff, are we Hank~?” When Deimos had appeared behind him was beyond the mercenary, though the shock of hearing his voice out of the blue was enough to startle him into quickly powering off 2b’s tablet and whipping around to face the two that now stood across with him with far too smug looks on their faces for his liking.

“Woah there, big guy! We didn’t mean any trouble.” Sanford cooed, the fucking Chad cooed, holding his hands up as if he was under some sort of arrest. “Just wanted to know what you were reading over here is all~.”

“Yeah, exactly. I never expected to find you clicking through Doc’s diary.” Deimos added on nearly flawlessly. Sometimes he really hated how well they worked together. Namely when it was against him. “So, was it a love confession~?”

Hank sighed, glaring at the two through his goggles. He sure fucking hoped they could see the look on his face, despite most of it being covered by bandages and his mask. Because he was not amused and he wanted them to know it.

“No, not a love confession, you morons.” He groaned, shaking his head. Telling them straight off what it said would probably be horrible. At the moment he was still having a few difficulties understanding parts of what he read. Lying just seemed like the best choice overall. It wasn’t like he’d be the only one doing so, after all. It sure seemed like 2b did to them over the mic. Speaking of the man, Hank turned around to take a good look at him. At first glance he seemed like he normally did when he passed out in his chair from overworking himself like this. It was only when Hank took an extra second to look and let the information in his brain guide him did he see the slightly out of place softness around the sleeping hacker’s stomach. Unable to help himself Hank felt his ruined remaining lip quirk up into a small smirk under his mask as he turned around to shove the Dumbass Duo out of the room so 2b could sleep.

“Bunch’a nonsense, is all. Now move. I don’t wanna deal with him if you idiots wake him up and we still have shit to put away.”

#soft vore #mawedness combat #hahaha finally!#I’ve been waiting to use that tag #implied fatal #oopsie #it’s no named character so I guess it’s not bad #I mean this is in the M4dc0m universe so don’t expect my works with these fuckers to be as sunshine as some of my N3ws¡3s ones were #2b I do hope you won’t hate me for this if you can see it

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petersasteria · 3 years ago

Note

It's meeeeeeeeeeeee ! Yeah, last one but i think it's great, any boy you want, (i saw Harry but i let you choose) 40 - 42 - 52 and maybe 46 yeahhh i see angst in that request, angst and fluff at the end...

I'll do peter hehe bc why not

40. “When my date takes me home and kisses me good night, if I don’t hear the Philharmonic in my head, I dump him.” 42. "To tell you the truth, I think your theories about relationships are total bullshit.” 46. "How could you do this to me?” “Because I’m in love with you!” “Ha! What kind of an excuse is that?” 52. "You’re so afraid of being hurt, you’re gonna end up all alone.”

Parker || Main || Taglist

Peter Parker was afraid of commitment.

He was scared that his heart would be so broken it couldn't be fixed anymore. Using his brains, he came up with theories about relationships and it all came down to sex. He figured the reason why things don't work out is because after people have sex, they leave and won't be bothered to call. Then he swore to himself that he'll only have one girlfriend and make sure she'll be on board with his theory.

Then he found you. You were perfect for him and he looked at you as if you put the stars in the sky. He was so in love and truly, you were in love with him too. He could remember your first date like it was yesterday.

It was 6PM and Peter was already at the restaurant. He was fifteen minutes early and he knew it was ridiculous, but he just wanted to make sure that you were telling the truth about being an early bird to things because you hated being tardy.

Lo and behold, you were right. Five minutes after he arrived, you came in and saw him. You went over and sat down, "You're early. What time did you get here?"

"You're early too and don't worry, I got here five minutes ago. Shall we order?"

The night was filled with joy and laughter and wholesome things. He offered to walk you home and you agreed. You really felt like Peter was the one for you. It was too early to tell and you were probably being silly, but you just knew.

Stopping in front of your door, you turned to him and said, "I had such a fun night, Peter. Thank you for this."

He smiled, "No problem. I had a fun night too."

"You're different from all the other guys who took me out because they were so boring. All of them were my first and last dates. You see, when my date takes me home and kisses me good night, if I don't hear the Philharmonic in my head, I dump him."

"Oh, I see." Peter said nervously. "D-Do you hear the Philharmonic in your head now?"

You smiled sweetly at him as you stepped closer, "Not only do I hear the Philharmonic, but I also hear Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber's orchestra going off in my head and they're all telling me that I should totally kiss you."

Peter smirked slightly before leaning in to kiss you. Needless to say, you shared a passionate kiss that night and Peter was practically skipping on the way home.

He would never forget that day. It was the most magical experience he ever had and now he fucked it all up. To be fair, you knew what you were getting into because he told you about his theory about relationships, but you thought you could do it. Then it all came crashing down on you.

Hot and heavy kisses were shared between you and Peter. It was all so heated and passionate and just thinking about him on top of you made you excited. Then Peter stopped.

"Why did you stop?" You asked, your mind still hazy from all the kissing. You never knew you could be drunk all because of someone's kisses, but there you were.

Peter sat up and said, "I stopped because we were about to have sex and remember what I said? I don't do that because it quickly ends a relationship and I don't want that to happen to us."

"But just consider this as a next step in our relationship. It'll be fine because I'll still be here!" You exclaimed.

"How am I so sure that you'll stay, hm? Every girl I've been with left me after sleeping with me. How am I so sure that you won't do the same?"

"Because I'm different!"

"That's what they all said!" Peter shouted in frustration. He ran a hand through his hair and stood up to pace back and forth. "I thought you understood the theory I told you about? I thought you agreed?!"

"I did, okay?! I agreed with you at the time because I thought I could do it, but it turns out I can't! I'm human, Peter! I have needs! This is normal!" You raised your voice, not wanting to yell at him just yet.

"Y/N, this is the reason why we work so well together! We don't need to be sexually intimate with each other! We're better off this way." Peter reasoned, but you shook your head.

"You see, all I can see are things that benefit YOU. YOU think we're better off this way! YOU think we don't need to be sexually intimate. YOU think this is why we work so well together, but what about me?"

"What about you?!" Peter was confused at this point. He didn't understand your side.

"I just wanted to enter the next step of the relationship with you!" You exasperatedly said.

"And that's sex? C'mon, Y/N!" Peter groaned.

"Yes, it is! Because that means we're comfortable with each other! It means that we're doing it not because we want to get laid, but because we love each other. We can be open to what we like and don't like and it doesn't even have to be fast and- and rough! It could be slow and steady because it'll be your first time with me and my first time with you. It's special, Peter, and you don't even want that!" You frowned as tears welled up your eyes.

Peter went over and sat in front of you, cupping your face with his hands, "We could do something else, babe. I'm sorry, okay? I just-"

"I trust you enough to take care of me when we finally have sex. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course, I trust you."

"Then, how could you do this to me? How could you deny something so natural like that?"

"Because I'm in love with you!"

"Ha! What kind of an excuse is that? That's horse shit, Pete!" You cried and pushed him away. Peter frowned, "So where does this leave us? I don't want to fight."

"I don't want to fight either, so I guess we're done." You told him. His heart dropped and shattered into a million pieces.

"Um, why?!" Peter asked. You looked at him and said, "I got all dressed up for you and I did my makeup just for you and I prepared everything just for you! I even cleaned my room extra clean just to please you and-"

"I am pleased! This is the cleanest your room has ever been!"

"-And all I wanted was to take the next step with you! That's it! Since you won't give me that, just go. I'll find someone who will." You said sadly.

"You do understand why I came up with that theory right?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, I do. You were hurt and I respect that, but hurt is always present in a relationship. You can't stop that. You're so afraid of being hurt, you're gonna end up all alone." You told him.

Peter never forgot about that night and his heart broke. After a few weeks of pitying himself, he finally got his shit together and thought of ways to get you back. He now realized where you were coming from and he couldn't blame you. You were right. You were human and you had needs.

Now, here he was in front of your door with a big bouquet of your favorite flowers and a box of your favorite donuts. He rang the doorbell and waited for you to open the door.

You opened the door and to his surprise, you were all dolled up. Seeing you like that made him panic, thinking you'd be on a date with someone else.

"Oh, hi." You said, leaning on the doorframe.

"Um... are you going somewhere? Because if you are, I'll come back tomorrow." Peter said.

You shook your head, "I just got home, actually. I went on a date."

Peter stared at you and asked, "Did you hear the Philharmonic? Or Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber?"

You could only shake your head.

"The last time I heard them is when I went out with you. You're the one for me and I know it."

This made Peter smile. Perhaps he had a shot again. "You're the one for me too!" He grinned, making you stare at him.

"What're you doing here?"

"I came to apologize." He sighed, handing you his gifts.

"Oh?" You said, taking the gifts from him, muttering a small 'thank you'.

"Yeah, I want to say sorry for being blind about your feelings. A relationship is between two people and it was unfair of me to assume you wanted the same; it was unfair of me to think that you wouldn't have urges or anything like that. I'm sorry." Peter said sincerely.

"I hope you forgive me and I hope we can start again because I can't lose you. I love you too much to lose you. You mean so much to me and I'm not letting you go without a fight." Peter said and you stared at him for a while.

"To tell you the truth, I think your theories about relationships are total bullshit." You confessed and he nodded.

"I know and that's why I'm getting rid of them. Fuck those theories! They can rot in hell for all I care. They're even scientifically accurate or something. It's based on my experience and I don't understand why I call it-"

"Peter, let me finish." You chuckled and he quickly shuts up. "I just want to be with you. That's all. And when I say that I want to be with you, I mean that I want to have ALL of you. Except for that theory thing and I'm glad you're getting rid of that."

"Can we start again?" Peter asked nervously and you nodded with a smile.

"Of course, we can. Come in and we can finish all the donuts you bought!" You laughed before walking in with Peter trailing behind you and closing the front door.

i got carried away but i had so much fun writing this!

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @cocoamoonmalfoy @parkerpeter24 @slutforsr @givebuckyhisplumsnow @buckys-little-hoe @runawayolives @chewymoustachio @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourstrulyamour @beverlythrillz @juliediggory @yaya4302 @alexx-stancati @dummiesshort @spideyspeaches @angelsgrxzer @dreamy-clousds @hunnybunimdun @supred12 @more-like-reyna @caitsymichelle13 @aayaissaa @wannabemobwife @bigassnocash @repostcentral @imcalledflorence @eccedentesiastqueen

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @alinastarkrovs @celestialholland @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @pqrkerr @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow @bi-lmg @moonchild-s-blog @itszulli @blossomhollands @prancerrparkerr

#k's movie mondays #k's movie monday: 90s #k's works #petersasteria #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker blurbs #peter parker one shots

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punkpoemprose · 4 years ago

Text

December 11th- A Convenient Arrangment Part 3

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU Rating:T (mentions of sex, negative self esteem, and a brief panic attack) Length: 4095 Words

A/N: I’m behind, as always. And now I have brain rot for this AU. Will I catch up? Will I manage to write for other projects I was going to work on this Advent? Stay tuned, because I don’t even know yet! [Part 1] [Part 2]

When she showed him to his room, he was astonished to find it next door to her own. It wasn’t the room he’d been rushed into previously to prepare for the ceremony but was rather much larger. There were large windows that overlooked the Fjord, and a door that adjoined Anna’s room.

“This used to be my governess’s room. I hope you don’t mind that. It’s not as large or fancy as my room, but adjoining rooms is apparently an expectation. They wanted us to move into another part of the castle but… they were my parents’ rooms and I… I didn’t think I could bear to have them touched. Not yet. It’s been a long time I suppose, but I don’t think I could ever move into their space.”

“This is…” he looked back at Anna, who was already retreating towards the door that connected her room to his.

He didn’t know what to say, but he did know that even with the short discussion they’d had after lunch, the talk about how he didn’t feel like he belonged, more talking was going to be needed sooner than later. The rest of their day had been spent in a quiet sort of camaraderie as she showed him around the rest of the castle, keeping her hand in his the whole time. They’d had dinner alone, her sister, the Queen, taking her meal in her study. They’d eaten in the private dining room rather than in the formal one, and while they toured the palace and while they dined, they hadn’t talked much, or at least they hadn’t talked about anything that mattered.

He knew the history of some of the paintings and suits of armor and tapestries that decorated the halls, and he at least had something of a sense of where some of the important rooms in the castle were. She’d asked him about the foods he liked and supplied some information about her tastes in return, but they spoke little about her breakdown in the garden, or the fact that he still planned to leave in the morning.

“I’m sure it’s probably not really done in your tastes,” she offered as she opened the door to step into her own room, “But we can take care of that if you’d like. I received a note during dinner from my sister. She assures me that we have a week to get you settled and for us to get acquainted before we must perform any duties as a couple. I have something I need to do quickly, but I believe Kai will be arriving for you shortly as he’s taken it upon himself to be your valet until you can choose one yourself.”

“My…?”

Almost nothing about the things she’d just said made any sense to him, and it must have been evident from the apologetic look she offered him before she stepped through the door and closed it behind her. She’d seemed in a hurry to get away from him for some reason, which confused him as it was in total contrast to the way she’d spent most of the day staying close to him.

He thought about crossing the room, opening the door, and asking her if something was wrong. It was a much more appealing idea than sitting alone in his room to try to piece together what she’d just said to him, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

She deserved her space. He wanted a bit of his own, and he had to respect hers if he wanted his.

***

Anna leaned against the door as soon as it was shut behind her and focused on her breathing. She’d been struggling to feel alright since lunch, to keep up a brave face and to be a good host. She didn’t want to leave him alone, even now, but she needed a moment to calm her thoughts as they swirled in her head.

He doesn’t want to stay here.

He has to stay here and he’s going to try his best.

He wants to be my friend.

I’m the reason he’s stuck here.

It feels strange to be the one closing the door.

She closed her eyes and quieted the voices, focusing instead on recalling the way it had felt for him to hold her when she’d fallen apart earlier. While she hadn’t enjoyed the feeling of going out of control, or the emotional strain that had made it almost impossible to breathe, but the contact had been soothing in a way she hadn’t experienced since she was young. It felt wrong to her than she had made him comfort her when he clearly was under plenty of stress of his own, but the sensation of his hands on her back, pulling her close, the way he’d given her all the time she needed to breath with her head rested on his shoulder, it was not something she thought she’d ever forget.

If she really focused on the memory, she could almost feel his hands on her again. She tried to combine it with the memory of the kiss they’d shared at their wedding, but it just made her flush and open her eyes.

He’s your husband.

And still, to think of that… it’s too much.

Intimacy was something she had never experienced beyond the familial, and even that was a faded memory on the edge of her consciousness. Touching and being touched was something she wanted desperately, and yet felt afraid of in a way. She wondered what the rejection would feel like if she asked for it, to be held, perhaps even to be kissed again. She wondered too, what it would feel like if he accepted because he wanted it too.

She pushed off the door and marched herself over to her armoire, tugging out one of her summer nightgowns and putting it on quickly. She tossed layers off as quickly as she could and then slipped into the comforting light silk of the sleepwear. She didn’t want the assistance of her lady’s maid and while she was fairly certain that Kristoff wouldn’t want that of a valet either, she’d only felt comfortable to speak for herself when she spoke to a servant in the hall on their way to his room after dinner. Besides, she had a feeling that speaking to Kai might help Kristoff in some way she couldn’t explain, maybe just by showing him that he had some legitimacy.

She heard the door open and shut on Kristoff’s room next door, and the muffled sounds of conversation as she crossed the room to her writing desk and sat. She did have something that she needed to do. It hadn’t just been an excuse to breathe.

She dropped the front of the secretary desk with a thud, and pulled a piece of paper from a stack on the upper shelf. She didn’t pull out the ink well until she sat, having on many occasions knocked it to the floor after opening it because she had knocked it while sitting.

There was a stain in one of the floorboards next to her foot as proof.

It was just one of the many charms of the space that made it hers, and as she retrieved the rest of her necessary tools and set to work, she wondered idly if Kristoff would stay long enough to make his mark on the adjoining space.

Or to add his mark to my room too.

***

“My lord, do you require assistance dressing?”

The man who had walked Anna down the aisle at their wedding appeared from the other side of the door, carrying with him a tray. The opening of the door had surprised him, even with Anna’s heads up that he was to be expecting someone.

Kai, she’d said. The head butler, and temporarily his… valet?

“I… no? Why would I?”

The man gave him a confused look for a moment, but then his eyes softened and his expression became almost amused, like he’d just recalled something funny.

“Ah, well, I suppose given you’re not dressed formally you wouldn’t need the assistance. My apologies sir.”

“You don’t have to call me…”

The older man gave him a shake of his head, and Kristoff thought for a moment that he was doing something wrong, until the man closed the door behind him.

“But I do. Everyone must. At least when ears might hear. My apologies for the interruption sir, but I believe we might have much to discuss.”

He lifted the tray a bit higher, then added, “Tea?”

Kristoff wasn’t quite sure of what to be expecting, and while he was still wary of being in the castle at all, let alone with an attendant, he supposed that Anna wouldn’t have left him alone with anyone she didn’t trust. She had been acting oddly, or at least what he thought might be odd given his little knowledge of her normal moods, and yet he had to trust that she at least wouldn’t intentionally put him into any situation he might suffer from.

He had to think so anyway.

“I don’t normally drink tea…”

The butler was quick, and Kristoff could tell that he had spent many years in the service of the crown by how tactfully and speedily he crossed the room with the tray. He set it upon a small table that Kristoff hadn’t even begun to register amongst the furniture and décor of the space. It was like someone had put two of his cabins together in the room, the high ceilings he’d been focused on when the man entered only adding to the effect.

“Akvavit?” he asked, pointing to a decanter also set amongst other bottles and kettles on the tray. There had to be at least three decanters and two pots along with what he presumed were the proper serving ware for each. He wouldn’t really know. He drank his coffee, water and spirits from the same mugs in his cabin.

He mulled over the idea of a stiff drink and found that it was agreeable. He wasn’t a drunkard by any stretch of the imagination, but he did enjoy an occasional drink. Most often glogg or beer, but he wouldn’t turn down the occasional offer of something stronger.

“Just a bit. I don’t like to drink very much, and I won’t drink alone.”

The man seemed pleased to have pegged him on the second try, and nodded.

“Of course, sir. If it’s not too bold of me to say, I’m glad to hear it.”

“It’s not. No one usually minds being bold around me, so you shouldn’t either.”

The man chuckled, a quiet sound as he poured two small glasses of the light-yellow liquid into crystal glasses and gestured to one of the two chairs set around the small table.

As Kristoff approached, he placed one glass before each seat and waited, standing straight-backed, until he sat to do so himself. It struck Kristoff as odd to be treated with such respect, or at least with such pomp. When he’d have drinks with the other ice harvesters it was all bawdy jokes, loud conversation and shoulder bumping.

There was none of that here.

These walls have probably never heard something so loud.

The older man waited for him to sip his drink before he would do the same, but after the first sip, the tension in the air around them seemed to dissipate somewhat. The burn of the drink, the licorice and spice flavors of it, were strangely comforting as the silence between them went from strained to comfortable.

“You should know that I didn’t want this for the Princess,” he told Kristoff in a voice that portrayed a kind and conversational tone, “Lady Anna has been underfoot since she was small, and while my wife and I were never so blessed, I sometimes, and perhaps improperly, think of her like my own.”

It made sense, Kristoff thought. There had been real affection in his manner when he’d walked Anna down the aisle, even if Kristoff only registered it in hindsight.

He nodded, not offended by the man’s words like he could have been. His lack of anger seemed to be expected too by the man.

He’s spent many years reading people and it shows.

“The wants of a butler, or any one person were not accounted for in this decision of course. The kingdom needed a wedding, and so there was one. I have no doubt this was also not the first choice you would have made for your future either sir.”

“It wasn’t. But as you said, ‘the kingdom needed a wedding, and so there was one.’ I didn’t have much choice in the matter, or if I did, no one told me.”

He might have been angrier about it now, knowing that he was trapped in a marriage he’d never wanted, if it weren’t for the fact that he’d held Anna in his arms in the garden. If it weren’t for the fact that he thought that maybe, just maybe, they could be friends and that she was the sort of person that he wanted to support.

“But you’re taken with her, aren’t you?”

Were he a more superstitious man, he may have believed that his mind was being read.

“The Princess…” he began, but then changed his mind, quickly, taking another sip of his drink, before correcting, “I don’t think anyone could meet my wife and not be taken with her.”

It was true. Even behind whatever dark cloud he’d seen looming over her today, there was a radiance about her that captured him. He’d never pretended to be a people person, nor would he call himself one even now, but he thought that maybe he was an Anna person.

As uncomfortable a situation as they’d managed to find themselves in, he felt comfort in her presence, in the way she kept holding his hand and refused to let go. In the way she held her head a little higher when she was passing by staff with him at her side, as if she were trying to exude enough confidence for the both of them. He thought, quietly and to himself, that she was the sort of person he could maybe see himself falling in love with.

Kai seemed to make his mind up about something, taking a drink himself, and finishing the small glass he’d poured, setting it back onto the tray without making a sound. Even his movements when he wasn’t serving were elegant, and Kristoff, with his rough hands and heavy labor muscle memory, wondered how it was possible.

“You should know then that she has not had an easy life. It’s not my place to give you the details, but I will step out of place to ask you to be gentle with her. She’s been betrayed and cheated so many times in her young life that I often wonder how she continues to carry on, let alone to do so with such warmth and kindness. She’s strong, but she needs support now, and it’s the kind that I can’t provide. So my selfish request is that you allow me to prepare you for what comes ahead, if only to protect her from the scrutiny that your marriage will be under.”

Kristoff listened to the man speak and drained his own glass, focusing on the fire as it burnt its way across his tongue, down his throat, and warmed him more than the sun had earlier in the day.

It was a lot to take in.

He knew that Anna had been through something that pained her. Something other than their impromptu wedding that had sent her into the spiral he’d watched in the garden. He wasn’t certain that he could even ask her about it yet, but he did know that despite all logic and reason, he did want her to be okay.

She’s a stranger, and she’s my wife.

If learning more about his role as her husband, and by association his role as prince consort to the crown princess of Arendelle, would help her stay away from those dark places, it was worth it. He had already decided it, from the moment that Kai walked in, he’d known somewhere in the back of his mind exactly what the man was going to ask and exactly how he was going to answer.

“Tell me what I need to do.”

The man smiled and nodded.

“Well, to start, recognize the fact that when in public you’ll be going by your title my lord. They are finalizing the peerage, I believe you’re being given a courtesy title, but regardless you would be addressed as my lord and sir as the spouse of the Princess. Once you accept that, we can move on.”

He took a deep breath and with significantly more clanking, placed his empty glass onto the tray.

“I can do that.”

***

Anna wiped a smudge of ink between her thumb and forefinger, trying to clear away the dark stain on her skin before she knocked on the door into Kristoff’s room.

Kai had gone, she’d heard him leaving, and she might have worried that Kristoff had gone to sleep if it weren’t for the fact that she could see the warm light of candles from the gaps between the door and its casing.

“You can come in Anna,” he called from the other side of the door, “I can hear your pacing.”

She had been pacing, but she flushed at being caught. She almost wanted to tell him to mind his own business for a moment, just because of the embarrassment, but she decided against it.

She needed to talk to him, and also, it had made her giggle a bit to be found out just by footfalls alone.

“Sorry,” she said, pushing the door open, “I just made something for you and I thought it might make sense to give it to you sooner rather than later.”

She held in her hand, a folded piece of parchment that she’d just finished letting the ink dry on. It was not a conventional wedding gift she thought, but they’d never given one another wedding gifts, and she was telling herself that it was better a day late than never.

He was sitting alone at a table in the center of the room when she entered, but then stood to approach her shortly after she started to walk in. She noticed that he seemed happy to see her, that there was a smile on his face and a light in his eyes that was encouraging as they met in the middle of the room.

She proffered him the sheets of parchment in her hands, watching as he looked from her hands to her face and back again.

“I hope it’s not too bold of me to say, but I hope these aren’t divorce papers.”

She wasn’t sure why she smiled, or why he made her laugh by saying something so awful, but as he took them some of the mirth that had left her earlier in the day returned.

“No, I just thought… I threw a lot at you today and I thought I’d write some notes for you, and there’s a couple little maps I drew of how to get to important places. I thought about it and it’s probably hard to remember if you weren’t born here.”

He squinted at the pages, and for a heart stopping moment she had a thought that made heat rise to her cheeks.

Can he read?

Arendelle had universal public schooling. It was something that her father had put into place as a young king, younger than she was now, in order to ensure that his people were educated and could, thereby live better lives. He’d been a good king. Beloved by the people despite many years of absence in the public eye before his death.

It didn’t mean education was compulsory though. Parents could choose whether to send their children or not, and Anna knew precious little about Kristoff’s parents, other than that they’d adopted him when he was young. She also suspected that they lived in the mountains, and while there were some small rural schools, she had no way or knowing whether her husband was educated or not.

“Sorry,” he said, squinting at the paper before handing it back to her for a moment with a flush on his cheeks, his finger pointing to the words you can always ask me for help on the sheet of notes she’d written to him, “What does that one say? I’ve never been very good with reading cursive. I just print everything.”

She flushed, “Sorry, I printed most of it. I don’t have very legible cursive anyway, my tutor hated it. I’m the only one who can ever read it anyway. That was the last thing I wrote and I think I was a little distracted when I wrote it. It just says…”

He leaned over it again, sliding his hand over hers as he lifted the paper a bit higher so they could both see it as she read.

“You can always ask me for help.”

The hand covering hers was warm, sure, like it had been at their wedding. She let her eyes drift closed for a moment, as she took a calming breath and focused on the touch. She’d been holding his hand all day, having him holding hers, even if just for a moment, felt good.

“Well that was convenient, wasn’t it?”

She smiled, “Almost like I planned it.”

He looked at her, and she met his eye. There was a look there that questioned, but then she watched in real time as he realized that she was joking with him. The smile that followed was beaming.

“We need to talk. About a lot of things, but for right now, we need to talk about tomorrow.”

She couldn’t control the way her face fell. She’d spent so many years hiding how she felt, but around Kristoff, when they were alone, she already knew that she wouldn’t be able to hold her feelings back for very long. There was an openness about him and an attentiveness that made her unwilling to hold it back, particularly because she felt like he might be able to see through it anyway.

“Not about anything bad,” he offered quickly, “I just need to go and get some things from my home, talk to my family… I’ll be back.”

She let him take the papers again, dropping her hands to her side and accepting the fact that he was going to go no matter what she said.

“Would you mind if I came with you? I’d like to see your home. I’d like to meet your family.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

“It’s a long trip, but it’s alright if you’d like to come. I can’t promise it would be an exciting trip or anything, and I don’t know whether my family would want…”

He paused, seemingly looking for a better way to phrase what he was saying, but it was already enough for Anna. She’d taken him from his family. They probably didn’t want to meet her, or if they did, they probably wouldn’t like her.

“They’re very private. I’d have to ask them because it’s not my place to bring someone into their home. Even if I want them to meet that person very much.”

She felt some small comfort in that. He wasn’t the sort to lie, that much she already knew. He wouldn’t have said it if he hadn’t meant it.

“I’d just go to see them quickly; you could stay at my cabin while I went. The trip would take most of the day and there’s not much to see.”

“It would give us a lot of time to talk,” she said after a moment, “I haven’t left the castle grounds very much, so I think anything would be interesting to me.”

She hoped that she didn’t seem like she was pleading too much. He’d already said that she could come, but he’d qualified it with so many concerns for the trip length and her boredom that she couldn’t help but think that maybe he didn’t want her to come. He wasn’t a liar, but she also thought that he might just be being polite.

“If you say so,” he said with a shrug, “And can’t say I wouldn’t like your company.”

#kristanna #arranged marriage au #A Convenient Arrangement #kristannaadvent2020 #frozen fanfiction

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athenasbloodyspear · 4 years ago

Text

Say Something to Stop Me: Chapter 6

Writing Master List | Say Something to Stop Me Master List

Please note: This fic describes depression, anxiety, panic attacks, past/referenced non con and domestic violence. Please read at your own discretion.

There was a faint beeping sound in the room around you.

That must have been what woke you.

You’re disoriented and have no idea where you are. Every muscle in your body felt like it had been pounded into the ground. It kinda felt like the morning after a good round in the ring with Thor.

You inhale a deep breath.

And open your eyes.

The med wing. That’s where you were.

In a bed, with heart rate monitors attached to you.

Why…?

The park.

A cold voice.

A flash of brown eyes.

It all came crashing back to you so quickly it felt like a tidal wave crashing over you. You sucked in a quick breath, waiting for your lungs to seize up on you.

It seemed your body didn’t have the energy for panic at the moment.

Across the room from you, you heard another sharp intake of breath. You whipped your head toward it and saw Bucky, curled up in a lounge chair that someone must have dragged in here. He must have been dozing when you startled him awake. He was blinking quickly and looking around, trying to orient himself.

You couldn’t speak. You truly and totally had no words. What could someone possibly say right now? Hello?

You just stared at him as he acquainted himself to the room, before his eyes cut to yours. He jumped slightly when he registered that you were awake.

He stood, and slowly walked toward you, before settling himself on the edge of the bed. He stared at you for a very long time, before looking at his hands. You both sat in silence for what seemed like hours to your incredibly embarrassed mind, but was likely only thirty seconds.

“How are you feeling?” He rasped.

“Fine.” You said quickly. You looked at your hands then, you couldn’t look at him. “What time is it?”

“It’s ten.” Bucky responded.

You should probably have felt some sort of reaction to that. You’d been out for two hours at least. You just… didn’t have the energy. You put your face in your hands.

“Hey.” Bucky said softly, he grabbed a strand of your hair and tucked it behind your ears. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” You snapped, voice muffled by your hands. “I’m a fucking embarassment and you had to call Tony to get us because I’m a fucking mess.”

“You are not a fucking mess.” Bucky retorted.

You couldn’t respond.

You peeled your hands from your face and looked at the wire running from the machine next to you to the clip on your finger.

“They just wanted to monitor your heart rate.” Bucky mumbled.

You ripped the clip off your finger.

Bucky started to reach for your hands, but you pushed at his wrists. You didn’t want him to touch you. You couldn’t stand the feeling of your own skin on your body, how could you let him touch it?

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stand, on a beeline for the door.

“Wait, Y/N.” Bucky calls.

“No.” You grit out. Ripping open the door and stomping into the hall.

Tony and Steve are hurrying down the hall in your direction, likely Friday told them you had removed your heart monitor.

“Hey kid.” Tony says as you stormed past them “How are you-”

“I’m fucking fine, Dad.”

“We should have Helen monitor you-” Steve starts.

“You can have Friday spy on me from the fucking ceiling.” You toss over your shoulder.

You need to get out. Get away. You can’t stand them all looking at you like a broken doll. You don’t deserve their concern, their pity. They’re wasting their time. They have so much more important things to do than worry about you.

You thought you were getting better. You were sure of it, but all it took was his voice. You’d barely even looked at him. It was just his fucking voice and you lost it all over again.

You had made it to the stairwell at that point and started hauling up the stairs, three at the time. You didn’t have the patience to wait for an elevator.

You couldn’t even think of anything, you just focused on the burning in your thighs as you forced yourself to keep climbing and climbing and climbing.

When you finally reached the landing of your floor, you heard the door at the bottom fling open and hit the wall. Bucky’s voice screaming your name from a few flights down.

You kept walking.

You marched down the hall to your room, straight into your closet. You stood on your tip toes and grabbed a duffel from the top of the closet and ripped it down.

Without really looking, you started snagging random clothes out of drawers and tossing them in. You slung the bag over your shoulder and stalked out of the closet towards the bathroom.

Bucky was just then rounding the corner into your room. You’d left the door hanging open when you’d ripped your way through. He balked at the duffel in your hands.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Away.” You responded flatly. You didn’t have a thought in your head except get out get out get out. The shame of the whole situation burning you from the inside and triggering your flight response. You kept your trajectory the same, trying to brush past him to get in the bathroom.

“Uh-uh.” Bucky said, snagging your bicep as you passed him. “No fucking way.”

You spun, without thinking, and swung your other fist up toward his face. He caught your fist in his hand, the metal groaning as you used every ounce of strength to try to break his grip. You tried to hook your leg around his knees to topple him, he caught your foot between his legs and held you there. You were face to face now, not a half inch between you.

You were seething now, the anger and shame had bubbled up and you were panting into his face, glaring at him. You were trying to think of a way out of his hold. You shared several breaths that way before Bucky finally spoke.

“Don’t push me out.” He breathed.

There was a moment of suspension. A moment where time stood still and you just stared at him. You got lost in his blue eyes for a long moment. Time didn’t exist. Air didn’t exist. The world didn’t exist. The only thing in the universe was the endless pool of his blue eyes.

Then the moment broke, and you sagged against him, all of the breath leaving your body in one big huff.

“I’m so sorry.” You choked out. You were out of tears, but if you had some, you’d have shed them then. “I’m so sorry Bucky. I’m so sorry.” Your knees gave out and you collapsed. Bucky quickly shifted his arms to soften your fall as your knees hit the hard floor of your room. “I’m so sorry.” You said again.

Bucky lowered you to the floor slowly, before stepping away and sitting, his back against the wall across from you. You just stared at your hands.

“I’m so sorry I tried to hit you. I have no idea what came over me. I just had this impulse to flee, at any cost, and…” You looked up at him again, his face was calm and emotionless. “You hate me.” You said, suddenly.

Bucky let out a humourless chuckle and rested his head against the wall behind him. “I could never hate you. Ever. I expected you to know that by now.”

“I tried to hit you, Bucky!” You gasped. You looked at your hands again. How dare they?

“Only because I grabbed you when you were clearly in distress. I should have known better.” He responded. He was leveling you with that even look again.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered again. Bucky pushed himself up off the floor, and squatted down to your level. He snagged both of your elbows and hauled you up. You just looked at him. You were dumbstruck at the moment, the whiplash of emotions in the last four hours causing your brain to go blank. He walked you backward until you felt your knees hit the couch near your bed. You let yourself collapse into the cushions.

He stepped away from you to the end of the sofa, and then sat. He turned his body so that he was looking at you. “Don’t apologize to me.” Bucky started softly. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Yes I did!” You yelped. “I just let him call you a brute, and a freak and all those things to your face! And then after you graciously brought my sorry ass back here, when you should have just left me to rot in that park, I tried to fucking hit you.”

Bucky scooched a little closer to you on the couch. “You were just trying to protect yourself.” He said simply. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “When he was spewing those horrible things, you were trying to keep him from getting more agitated. You were protecting yourself. When you swung on me just now, you were scared and you swung on instinct. It was to protect yourself. I’ll never be mad at you for protecting yourself. Understand?” He inched a little closer. “I always want you to protect yourself. Even from me, when necessary. Got it?”

The very last of the tears you had stocked in your body filled up the rim of your eyes. You met his gaze. He nodded softly at you, reaching forward with one hand to wipe them away before they fell down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry he said those things to you.” You whispered, voice wavering as you tried to keep more tears from spilling out.

He chuckled softly, wiping the tears from the other side. “I’ve been called worse sweetheart.”

“Well that doesn’t make me feel better.” You quip, repeating his words from earlier in the park.

He smiled at you then. It was like a life ring, or a rope tossed to you. You felt so far away from him now, but he was offering you a way in.

“You deserve to know what happened.” You say softly. You’re determined now. You had been prepared to grab the rope he offered in the park and had hesitated, but now you felt ready. It was time.

“Don’t tell me unless you want to.” Bucky whispers, his metal hand reaching to sweep the hair off your right shoulder so it rests behind your back.

“I want to.” You breathe. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning.” Bucky says. He leans back a bit, like he knows you’re going to need space to breathe and think and piece this all together. He stays close though, so you could reach out and grab him if you need to. Just like always, not pushing, but not moving away from you either.

So you start.

You tell him about how you’d been friends with Elijah in highschool, and how you’d always admired him for being successful and going for what he wanted no matter what. You told him about how you never thought he’d see you as anything other than a friend because you were so plain, so ordinary, and he was always seeing women who seemed larger than life. Supermodels of women, who had all these ambitions and were going to top schools and lived wild lives.

You told him how you studied hard and got into Harvard for international relations and linguistics. You told him how you had been so excited to tell Elijah, but he’d been so wrapped up celebrating his acceptance to Yale that he barely even acknowledged your success.

You told him about how Elijah had shown up at your dorm and basically demanded that you date. He’d been armed with lots of flowery language and brought up memories of all the times in high school he’d wished he made a move but hadn’t. He had thought that he would “ruin” you and how good you were. You’d been head over heels. No one had ever made a grand gesture like that for you. Of course you’d said yes.

You told him about the three years you dated, while you were both still in school. How it had been long distance and didn’t speak much, but every time you were together it was like you were still best friends from highschool again. Nothing had changed.

You told him about the day you found out SHIELD had accepted your application. Your studies in global relations, and knowledge of multiple languages, was an asset for them. As was the fact that you had nearly no other family ties.

You told him about the day you told Elijah you were going to work for SHIELD. Elijah had been proud, but had warned you not to get too involved with the Avengers. He was concerned that you were too naive, and that some big hot shot stars would trample all over you. You told Bucky how you had felt deflated after that. He hadn’t even taken you out to dinner to celebrate.

You told him about your first year at SHIELD. How you’d come home to tell him some exciting story about what happened at the office, only for him to shut you down, or complain about how the Avengers got all this praise for going to places they didn’t belong and blowing things up.

You told him about how he proposed, two days before you got promoted to working directly with the team. About how you’d been so excited because you were getting everything you wanted. You were going to have a family and your dream job. It was finally coming together for you, and you were going to do everything in your power to make it work.

You told him about the first fight you’d had with Elijah. Well, it wasn’t the first fight, but it was the first of a new kind of fight that you were going to have endlessly with him. It was about a week after he had proposed and you finally told him that you’d be working directly with the Avengers now. He’d lost it. You told Bucky how he had thrown the vase of flowers he had gotten on the day he proposed against the wall near your head. How he’d put a hole in the drywall of your bedroom. He had been screaming at you to stay away from “those arrogant assholes” who would “use their fame and glory” to try to get in your pants.

You told Bucky how you’d justified his behavior to yourself. You’d told yourself he was just scared that you’d be working in higher risk environments and wasn’t handling his fear well. How you’d learned to start keeping things from him about your job. You only supplied information to Elijah when asked, and tried to only speak about coworkers that didn’t have recognizable names around him.

You told Bucky about the years of hell you’d lived through while trying to plan a wedding. Tip toeing around your fiance when it came to your job, and trying to be a good agent to the team. You told him how Elijah kept asking you to move the wedding date. He kept saying it wasn’t a good time at work.

You told him about how you’d eventually lied to Elijah and told him you’d been transferred away from the Avengers, just so he would stop asking about them and starting fights between you. He’d broken so many picture frames and vases and dishes in your house you felt like you had to make monthly trips to the store to replace things.

“And then, I got the call that we were going to Budapest.” You choked out, your throat raw from how long you’d been speaking.

Bucky shifted a bit in his seat. You’d been building up to this, and he could tell this is where things had changed in a drastic way.

“And I had told him about two years prior that I wasn’t working with any of you anymore, but he was listening to me through a door.” You laughed humorlessly. “I’m a SHIELD trained agent and I didn’t even check to see if he was listening before I took that call. I was so stupid.” You sighed. This is where it was going to start to get hard. As if Bucky could tell, he reached out a hand and snagged yours, squeezing it once.

I’m here. It said. I’m not going anywhere.

“As soon as I ended the call he burst in our room and just screamed at me.” You continued. “Told me I was a lying bitch and that I wasn’t worth the dirt under his feet. He screamed at me that he had been so good to me, so patient with me. He told me how it hurt him to watch me be used by these people who didn’t give a shit about me.” Your throat was closing up as you spoke. You cleared it before continuing. “He basically told me not to bother coming back from “wherever the hell they were shipping me” as I was nothing but a lying and cheating whore for the Avengers.”

“So that’s why when we picked you up in the jet you were so quiet.” Bucky muttered. The first he had spoken since you had started.

“Yeah.” You muttered. “But that first day, Bucky.” You choked up again, “That first day with you made me realize I didn’t want to spend the whole month sulking, instead of enjoying time with my friend. So I decided to enjoy a month where he had no idea where I was, and deal with it when I got back.”

Bucky smiled softly at you. It was a painful smile. One that was full of understanding from someone who had also wanted time where he wasn’t looking over his shoulder and waiting for the other shoe to drop. It pinched your heart. “I had so much fun Bucky.” You whispered.

“Me too.” He whispered back. Squeezing your hand again.

You leaned back, pulling your hand from his. You couldn’t hold his hand as you told him this next part. You didn’t want him touching you when he found out the truth.

“And then I got back.” You squeaked.

You took a few deep breaths.

“And he was furious. He was throwing things at me and screaming. He unloaded all this shit on me that I had never known. That he had been sleeping with basically every woman in Manhattan. He had another apartment in the city that I didn’t know about. He would hole up with women when I was away on missions.” Bucky was tense across from you. His fists balled in his lap, his jaw grinding.

“And then…” You sucked in another steadying breath. “And then I guess he got bored hitting furniture and picture frames because then he started in on me.” You huffed out what was supposed to be a self deprecating laugh, but it just sounded like a shuddering gasp. “He just pushed me around, smacking me across the face. He shoved me down onto the floor where our glass coffee table had shattered.”

You closed your eyes and took another breath, letting the images of that day wash over your consciousness. It was in the past now, he couldn’t hurt you now. You had to get this out.

“I guess when he saw my blood he snapped out of it? I don’t really know. Suddenly he was weeping, and I was holding him and telling him it was okay. My adrenaline was pounding. I don’t really remember feeling anything.”

“So that's where you were?” Bucky rasped out, he sounded like he was trying not to choke. “For five months? Alone?” He looked at you then. “In that apartment?”

“Yes.” You squeaked out.

Bucky heaved a huge sigh, and looked down at his hands. “The thing is, I’m furious that you were suffering alone in that apartment. But I have no room to talk.” His blue eyes met yours again. “I hid from Steve, even after I remembered him, because I didn’t want him to see me after I knew everything I’d done. I ran from him when he tried to come save me.”

He stood then. “It’s agonizing for me to think about you there” He turned and looked at you. “But I understand.”

He took a step toward the couch, dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around you. “Thank you for telling me.” He whispered into your hair. “I don’t understand how that man had the balls to push a super soldier around…”

You squeezed your eyes closed. “He didn’t know.”

His arms tightened around you. “What?” He demanded, leaning back to look at you.

You opened your eyes, his piercing blue gaze was roiling with fury.

“He had no idea. I had never told him about getting the serum. He had always ranted and raved about how fucked it was that some dude with a syringe had chosen you to give you super strength, so I never told him. I just told him I had to be away a few months for a mission and when I came back significantly stronger he just assumed I had trained a lot while I was gone.”

Bucky just stared at you. His jaw grinding. He leaned back a bit, letting his hands fall to your knees. "So he attacked you, thinking you were only as strong as an average civilian?"

“I let him do it, Bucky.” You choked on a sob then. “But that wasn’t the worst part.”

You took a deep breath. This was it. The moment Bucky discovered that you were a worthless coward.

“He fucked me. Right there on our dining room floor, next to the glass. He was sobbing the whole time, just saying I’m sorry over and over.” You were looking at your hands now. You couldn’t look at Bucky while you said this. “I think my body had shut down or something at that point because I honestly don’t even remember feeling a thing. When he finished, he got up, grabbed a duffle bag of his things and left.”

You finally looked at Bucky then, but he was looking at the blank screen of the TV to his right. His jaw clenching as he ground his teeth. You were almost done. You could get through this.

“And so I guess I cleaned everything? Like I said, I don’t have a lot of memory of feeling anything after I hit that broken glass. But when Tony and Steve found me five months later there wasn’t any glass so I must have cleaned it up at some point.”

Bucky was breathing deeply now, big long pulls in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“That’s the fucked up part Bucky. I didn’t fight back.” You felt a dead weight in your chest now. “I’m a goddamn super soldier Bucky, and I didn’t even try to shove him off. I let this happen ” You whisper, “I’m a stupid worthless coward Bucky. You should never have to put your life on the line to trust me on a mission. I can’t even protect myself when--”

You were cut off by two arms wrapping around you with such force your voice couldn’t continue. He was holding you so tightly. He dragged you off the couch and into his lap on the floor. His arms were shaking slightly. You curled up in his chest. You had no idea why, after everything you’d just revealed to him, he would still be willing to hold you this way. You soaked it in while you could, you were terrified that this would be the last time you’d be able to feel his arms around you like this. That he’d pull away for good after this final hug.

You thought back to all the times he’d touched you these past few months.

The hard grip outside the elevators, the first time he confronted you about what happened.

The soft way he’d caressed your face, in the same spot, hours later.

The gentle sway of his body under yours as he carried you to bed.

The warm safety he offered you when you’d broken down on the helipad about Peter.

The ruffling of your hair, the slinging of his arm over your shoulder, the hip bumps in the kitchen as you danced around being friends again.

The feeling of your arms wrapped around him as his bike hurtled down the road.

The way his body covered yours on your mission, between you and the line of fire.

The way he’d wrapped himself around you before dropping out of the window.

The way you’d laid shoulder to shoulder on that rooftop.

The night he’d held you while you slept in the common area.

The way he’d carried you to safety when you weren’t able to do it yourself.

You wanted more. You wanted a lifetime of his gentle touches, the sweeping of his fingers through your hair.

Behind your closed eyelids you saw the flickers of blue in his eyes. The way they changed when he was amused or angry. The way they flickered when he laughed and taunted you.

You wanted to watch them forever.

If this is all you got, you’d thank whatever Gods you could that you’d been given this small joy. A lifeline over a sea of darkness. In fact, you’d ask Thor if there were more Gods than you currently knew that you could thank. You’d thank every single God you could find.

Bucky pulled back from the hug then, to look you in the eyes. His blue irises were still burning, with a million different emotions swirling through them so quickly you had a hard time deciphering them.

“Say something.” He whispered to you.

You tilted your head slightly. Your faces were about two inches apart now, a position you’d found yourself in a lot lately. Sharing breath. “What?”

“Say something to stop me from going over there and killing him.” Bucky stated simply. He was deadly calm.

You blinked. He continued, his arms shaking around you.

“Say something to keep me from getting back on that jet to Brooklyn.” He was breathing heavily now. “Say something that will keep me from going over there and ripping his throat out. Say something…” He trailed off.

Your heart was hammering in your chest.

You don’t know why you said what you said next.

Maybe it was the color of his eyes, the way they sparked with blue flames.

Maybe it was the way he was holding you, so gently, even while he threatened violence with his words.

Maybe it was inevitable, after all the times you’d ended up in positions exactly like this, sharing air.

You’d been here so many times, and had this exact same thought, but had never gotten up the courage to say it.

You weren’t going to be a coward anymore.

“Kiss me.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fic #bucky

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floralseokjin · 5 years ago

Text

;club zombie (m)

In a world overrun by zombies, you’d think everyone was a goner, but the reality is much different. A steady diet of brains lets a zombie exist as a fully functioning human. Just ignore the part where they’re technically dead… In fact, these days, the amount of zombies outweigh the humans. A lot jump at the chance to be turned. Beg for it.

Kim Seokjin controls the underground of Seoul. No one would dare cross him. That’s how most of the world goes these days. You wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of a zombie now, would you? However, you don’t quite see it like that. Spending most nights dancing at the club he owns, you catch his eye. It’s never the wrong side if you’re underneath him, right…?

pairing; kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings; zombie! seokjin, mafia boss! seokjin, smut, oc has a ring kink (relatable), gets angsty two thirds in, some type of romance bc of course it gets fluffy towards the end lol words; 17,113

listen to; friction // 555

⇢ Part of the Deadly Intentions collaboration. With @btssmutgalore, @kpopfanfictrash, @underthejoon, @lamourche , @prolixitae and @taetaetrashhh, who organised the whole thing and created the moodboard!

Please forget everything you’ve ever known about most zombie portrayals in books, movies and tv series, because this is totally different. The idea and inspiration came from the television adaptation of iZombie. If you’ve watched it then you have a better vision of how the zombies in my story are portrayed. If not, then please just give it a go lol. It may sound wacky, but it’s Halloween! So here’s to the 🧟🍆!! I hope you enjoy!

You could hear Seokjin’s footsteps, boots clanking up the wooden stairs, and your stomach lurched in anticipation. He’d made you wait two frustratingly long hours, which was hell considering you hadn’t had time to be alone together all week. You were beyond excited for him to finally get his hands on you. Your body had long got used to craving him down to the very bone.

He came into sight, the image of you draped along his bed rooting him in his tracks. Your robe barely covered your modesty. Nipples visibly hard against the silk. Sometimes there was no need for underwear. Not when it got torn off most of the time. He needn’t waste his money anymore. You let a slow smirk stretch across your face. “How do you want me tonight, Sir?”

No need to greet him with a hello neither. What was the point? He’d told you to be in his home ready for him when he got back. Bedroom. He’d made that very specific. There was no need for pleasantries. Not when you knew greater ways to please him.

Him.

Kim Seokjin.

How did you get here again? So easily. So willingly. Like you’d wanted such a thing from the moment you’d laid your eyes on him. You had. Seokjin wasn’t your husband, nor boyfriend. He wasn’t even a casual hook up. In some ways he was more than any of the above. In others, he was less. It was an arrangement. The most simplest kind. Sex. With the city’s most dangerous man.

No one in Seoul would dare cross him. Hell, this whole country. Maybe it ran deeper than even that. No, what were you saying? It definitely did. You just didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to know the details. You didn’t even want to think about what they could be. To you, the man you shared yourself so openly with could never be what they all described him as. Not when he’d shared so much with you too. It was puzzling to think people actually feared him. He had never frightened you. In fact, you’d only ever known him as gentle. Even when he had his icy cold hands wrapped around your throat, fucking into you so hard his bed, amongst other things, were fit to break.

Yeah. This wasn’t the turn you thought your life would take. But then again, this world wasn’t exactly the same place it had been four years ago. The human race had to grow a thicker skin. Most changed completely. See, Seokjin wasn’t just your average crime lord. He was a rotter. So was over half the population.

Dead and rotten on the inside. Cold and smooth on the outside. The correct scientific term was Undead, but in simpler, more familiar terms, they were zombies. Not your average text fiction kind though. No flesh rots. No foul smell. No incoherent noises, that sent a bolt of terror and dread through your body. No, the undead were able to live as fully functioning humans for the most part. A reality that took a little while to make sense of, but as it did, the world everyone had known began to change. Drastically.

Unsure how it all started, although known to have been caused by some crazy scientist type, the disease, as it was called—now more of a lifestyle—had swept through most of America before their government and medicals could get to grips with it. It was as it was known in fiction. A zombie apocalypse. The whole world went into lockdown, flown into madness. Panic and strife were universal. The infected were destroyed and the potentially infected were quarantined. It was there they began to understand the infection.

The virus still burning through the veins of the innocent would be extremely difficult to handle. The were, by lack of knowledge back then, your “cannon” zombie. Unable to speak, unable to think, and their eyes sunken, black and lifeless. If given the chance, and some had been, they would tear at the flesh of the uninfected, feast on their brains. However, kept under a close eye, locked and controlled in a box room where they couldn’t see out but an array of people could see in, medicals soon discovered there were ways to quell the deep, ravenous need they had inside them. Portions. That was the key. Starved or gorged of human brain just turned them frenzied. The need as a fresh, baby zombie was insatiable but with a controlled diet the world became a little more normal again.

If you could ever call it normal. Human greed was at an all-time high. Who didn’t find it amazing that you could be a certified zombie while also retaining your human life? Who wouldn’t want to be dangerous? Feared? Who wouldn’t want to live potentially forever? The list went on, and that didn’t include countless governments’ motives. Soon the infection had spread willingly throughout the world. It caused fresh havoc. Some countries who hadn’t even wanted to get caught up in the mess, perished because they were too small or undeveloped. But most were smart, scheming. Here in the East a plan was concocted.

Somehow they found the individual who created the virus. Whether they went willingly or were forced no one would ever know. Their identity still remained a mystery even after all these years. Together some of the countries’ top scientists helped mutate the sickness into something “better”. Injected straight into the veins, there was no longer a fear of the infected losing control. The Undead were created. Just another form of human, but with a hunger for brains. It took a total of eighteen months for the world to be okay again.

Now that was all just a memory. Zombies were considered the norm, accepted into society long ago. A recent consensus found that just under 60% of the world’s population were undead. Humans the minority. They lived like humans, worked like humans and had families like humans. Although not in the traditional sense. The undead could still have sex. The men could still cum, by some grace of god, lucky them, but they were infertile. Women too. Reproductive system dead like the rest of them.

Of course, just because there were a lot of humane rotters, didn’t mean there weren’t bad ones amongst the mix. Like you said, humans were greedy. Mostly for power, and being a rotter in the right place, right time gave people tonnes of that. They weren’t truly immortal though. That was well known. A shot to their rotten brain would kill them. Nothing else. That’s where the infection resided.

To be turned there was a system. Applications, interviews, contracts…a waiting list for the injection that would alter your life forever. However, it didn’t work like that most of the time. The world wasn’t so perfect. Corrupt would be a better description. There were other, more simple, ways of turning. A bite or a scratch. Or even sexually transmitted within the first year of infection. There was nothing the government could do about it, and there were many illegal zombies rooming the country. And try all they might, no matter how many times, scientists couldn’t change the way infection took place.

They also couldn’t change the compulsion for brains. Yes, there was no lost control in the beginning, but starved of brains for too long, devolved them into the “cannon” zombie once again. It would take months of starvation, but after the deed was done, it was impossible to be reverted back. Thus they were destroyed. As you could guess, crime levels had not lowered. They had only gotten worse due to gluttony.

Donors now offered their brains up once dead, in a bid to keep portions up. There was complete control when it came to that, but again, that didn’t stop some rotters. Over the years, a lot more murder victims had been found missing a brain. But you digressed. It wasn’t all bad for the undead. They didn’t starve. They could still eat normal food, just oddly needed some extra spice. Their tastebuds has pretty much been destroyed after the turn, so hot sauce was their best friend. Scientists had also created “fake” brain. Think of it along the same vein as fake meat for vegetarians. A substitute. It didn’t give complete satisfaction, but it helped. In fact, they had quite an array of foods now, sold at any local convenience and grocery stores. For some reason brain sushi always made you laugh when you saw it. Surreal. Fast food stores had also caught on. Yes, Big Brain Mac was a thing now… What more did they want? As long as they had the real thing each month, life went on as normal.

They looked normal too. You’d forgotten to mention that one. Sometimes, with the help of hair dye and fake tan, they looked just like their past selves. There were a couple of giveaways though. If they weren’t high maintenance. Their eyes had changed an ice grey after the virus had taken hold, skin pale and cold, and hair turning white. Sometimes fully, but more often than not streaks or wisps of it. Oh, and their heart rate was ten beats per minute. They were dead after all. Pretty much. It was only when they lost themselves, did they turn into something horrific. Eyes black, sunken into their skull, cheeks gaunt, close to rotting. You’d heard they could also fall into a zombie trance when experiencing intense emotions. Depending on the situation it had different levels of severe. You had never seen this though. You knew very well, that was a benefit for certain zombies. A scare factor. Intimation factor. Like you said, there were many who used their rotter status for evil and crime…

Which put Seokjin in a very grey area.

He controlled the underground of this city. You hated using the word mafia, naïve to it all. Something fictional to you, but that’s exactly what was going on. An organised crime syndicate. The oldest son of a wealthy and corrupt family, Seokjin was always heir to the blood soaked throne. He was extremely powerful, even more so than the city’s law enforcement. Actually, you knew for a fact he worked side by side with them a lot of time. Probably called most of the shots. He’d been human in the beginning, when he’d first become in charge, not long before the virus began spreading, but of course that had soon changed. You’d heard stories of how his turn came to be, but you took those with a grain of salt. They were hearsay in your eyes. You’d never been one for rumours and gossip.

As it would have it, you’d only ever known him as undead. You started working at his club just over a year ago. How you got there wasn’t important, you just liked to dance, and dancing was a must at Club Zombie. Cheesy name, but it got the custom. It was almost a sort of tourist attraction. An after dark one. Humans and zombies alike. The dancers were both too. It could be a seedy place sometimes, but you didn’t mind dancing around a pole for men when their money was involved. The day was yours, the night was easy; just dancing, putting on a show. Besides, you were safe. Seokjin never let anything happen to the women that worked for him.

This was the place you could find him at the most, although strictly professional he never brought danger here. The rumours surrounding him were probably what made the club so popular to begin with. He wasn’t stupid. A zombie mob boss, what fiction was made of. Everyone lapped it up. Some nights he sat right up front, quite literally a throne on a podium, surveying the bar and dance platforms. It helped that he was extremely good looking. Got the humans with a kink all riled up. Such soft, movie star looks when you truly studied him. Jarring in a way. A white streak running along the front of his dark hair, parted at the forehead reminded you of what he was. That and his cold, grey eyes.

It was working at Club Zombie where he soon began to take an interest in you. It was glances your way at first. When you made your way to the dressing rooms, or more often than not, when your eyes met as you danced and twisted around the pole. You wouldn’t admit it back then, but it did send a thrill up your spine, fresh confidence washing over you. Even more so when the glances turned to smiles. They could be better described as flirtatious smirks if you didn’t know any better. Because why would anyone like Seokjin want you? He had this whole city at his feet. You were a no one. No, you were imagining the signs. He might’ve not even been looking at you.

But he was. Or course he was. You just couldn’t believe it. Not until one night when he’d asked you to join him for a drink. Halloween night, to be precise. Not that you cared for the holiday. It was just another day.

You were the last one to leave the club. Usually the first, you’d misplaced your cell phone. Took you twenty minutes to find it, fallen behind one of the sofas in the dressing room when you’d flung your jacket down in a hurry not a few hours ago. You were in a hurry when you made your way across the bar, heading for the exit, hand in your purse trying to now find your car keys. You didn’t want to keep Yunho, the barman, waiting any longer. But he wasn’t the one left.

Seokjin was stood behind the bar when you looked up at the call of your name. A peculiar sight. In all the time you’d been here you hadn’t once seen that. The fact he knew your name was even more mindboggling. You opened your mouth to apologise to him, presuming that was why he was asking for your attention, but you got no where. Not when the question he asked stunned you to silence.

“Care to join me for night cap?”

You weren’t one for drinking, never had been funnily enough, but you ended up agreeing. You told yourself it was because he was the boss. You couldn’t say no to him, but the racing of your heart as you sat down argued it was something different.

He drank straight whisky, poured you a glass of rosé you didn’t request. Did he see you as that kind of drinker? Classy. Unless it wasn’t classy at all because you knew nothing about alcohol. You thought he’d stay behind the bar, lord of the house, but to your surprise he came out to meet you. You heart beat even faster when he sat on the stool next to you. You prayed hard that rotters didn’t have an acute sense of hearing. Your knowledge was failing you, but logically, going by that dumb fucking fiction, you’d have to assume they did. He knew you were nervous mess right now. How embarrassing.

He bared his teeth and made a wincing sound as he took a swig of his drink. It was nice to know the burn still affected him, and you watched him tilt the tumbler this way and that, staring at the swirling amber liquid as he did so. Maybe he was giving you time to relax. Maybe he just wanted to sit in silence. Who knew. His rings clanked against the crystallised glass. He always wore them. Large silver bands, dark coloured jewels encased in the centre. He had beautiful hands now that you saw them up close. Wrists too. His shirt sleeves rolled up to the middle of his veiny forearms. The watch he wore was more expensive than anything you’d earn in five years. Maybe a lifetime. You were clueless.

Momentarily distracted, it took you those five minutes to realise you’d never so much as had one conversation with him. He was mostly the untouchable boss who was more like a statue to awe over than a person to share friendlies with. There were other men who worked closely for him here, woman too. Those were who you went to if there was a problem. A drunken customer. A shift you couldn’t make. An emergency you had to leave early for. In fact, even when you had gotten this job it wasn’t by his judgement. So this made the exchange even more awkward considering you’d never said so much as two words to him. You sipped on your wine for something to do. The taste wasn’t all that bad actually.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

You had been so used to the silence you jumped a little from your seat at the sound of his voice. He sounded curious, and you glanced his way to see him giving you his full attention now. Body angled to you; eyes so intense they made you a little unnerved. Fuck. He’d definitely heard the racing of your heart then. Mistaken it for something else.

“Afraid? No.” You decided to be honest. Or at least as honest as you could be. He didn’t need to know you were even more unsteady now than you had been not ten minutes ago. All because of…thoughts, that had entered your mind upon noticing his long, deft fingers. Not that you knew they were skilled, but it was just a hunch. You shrugged in what you hoped was a casual manner. Voice straining to be very much the same. “My nail technician is a zombie. My running buddy at the gym. My doctor.”

To your surprise he chuckled. Deeply amused by something. “I didn’t mean that.” Oh. Had you misunderstood? How embarrassing. “Are you afraid of me because of who I am?”

You blinked slowly. His status. That was what he was referring to. You slowly shook your head, making sure to hold his gaze as you replied. “No.” You shocked even yourself, because you really did mean it. Maybe you were reckless. Your parents had always said such words. You were drawn to the unknown. The excitement got you giddy, but this—he—was something new.

Your idea of living life on the edge was dancing in hardly anything, not warming to a man who discussed crime over breakfast like it was nothing. Did God knows what when he wasn’t sitting in this club.

He nodded in almost confirmation. “Thought not. Just wanted to be sure.” He spoke with a certainty. Like he already knew this information before you did. What vibes were you giving off here? Or was he always this confident and sure when it came to assuming others’ thoughts and feelings…

“Why?” It came out slightly more accusing than you meant it to.

It took him a moment to answer, taking a swig of his whiskey again. You thought he was going to ignore it all together. In a way he did. “Did you know that any human who fucks a rotter in the first year of their transformation gets infected too?”

You took a moment to let that sink in. The casualness of his tone cut with the crude language took you by surprise. You swallowed. “I did.” Everyone did. It was the largest cause of illegal turning. Even a condom wouldn’t save you.

He scoffed in amazement. “It’s amazing how biology works, even for someone dead like me.”

When someone described themselves as dead it never ceased to blow your mind. It was hard to believe that someone as handsome as Seokjin was rotten to the core on the inside. Black and decaying. You let a wry smile play at the corners of your mouth, replying before you took another mouthful of your drink. “This world isn’t what it used to be.”

He didn’t bother to agree, instead taking a moment of silence before he hit you with another question. “Did you also know that we don’t have any sexual urges for a while after we’ve been turned?”

This time it took you everything to hold it together. The shock close to becoming visible on your face. You suddenly thought of every time he had glanced your way in the past few weeks. Each smile he had given you. Just like the one he was giving you now as he waited for your reply. “I heard it varies from r-zombie to zombie.”

You stopped yourself at the R for Rotter. Yes, he had used the word not moments before, but it was always such a grey area. Mostly used as a derogatory term, by humans—usually the older generation—who couldn’t get their small, little brains around the reality of the world today, it had become increasingly popular over the past couple of years. Now, it was just accepted. Like everything else this day and age.

“Correct.” He continued to smile. If he noticed your slip-up he didn’t care to mention it. “This may be TMI but mine’s only recently appeared again.” Something squeezed in your gut. “A few months ago. Maybe longer. I don’t know. With work and the stress I think I ignored it for longer than I should have.”

“Oh.” That was… Yes, it was fact all sexual desire left when first turned. Most for a couple of months, maybe a little longer. You didn’t know the ins and outs, but three years seemed steep. He was a busy man, it made sense, but… Fuck. Who were you kidding? You were just distracting yourself with nonsense now. Anything to not have to acknowledge what was really going on here. But you had to. “Not to be rude Mr. Kim, but why are you telling me this?”

No one, and you mean no one, called him by his first name. Not anyone you knew anyway. It was easy to see him as none other than Seokjin, your Seokjin, now thinking back, but a few months ago he was just your boss with the intimating aura. The one who wouldn’t dare be interested in you. That all changed that fateful night.

His lips curled. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be friendly or if he was greatly amused. Maybe both. “Seokjin. Call me Seokjin.”

You swallowed. His name felt foreign on your tongue, but you needed to press on. You needed him to confirm the hunch now coiled in your chest. “Seokjin, why are you telling this?”

A beat of silence followed. He actually glanced away from you as he went to speak. “I’m incredibly attracted to you.” You let out a shaky breath, unsure you could say anything back even if you tried. He chuckled awkwardly. Such a human reaction. You found your heart warming. “Forgive me. I’m rusty at this.”

He sounded way out of his depth, which was incredibly amusing for someone like him. You wondered how long he had been thinking of confessing this. How long he’d been trying… He’d taken his chance tonight.

“You’ve noticed me staring a lot?” His eyes were back on you now. You didn’t know if you were imagining it, but the harshness of the grey had begun to soften. The coldness, warming up.

“Yes,” you murmured. Your throat felt dry. You wouldn’t have described it as staring, but to say you hadn’t noticed would be an outright lie.

“I just can’t take my eyes off you,” he admitted with a slight sigh. “I love watching you dance because it’s the only form of interaction I have with you.” Without realising, you squeezed your legs together. Your face was flushing, you could feel the heat prickle your skin.

“My view gets obstructed a lot of the time, or my attention is needed elsewhere but I always try...” He cleared his throat. “I always try to admire you.”

His words bloomed against your skin, sending a warmth all over you. Call you weak, it didn’t matter. An attractive man was complimenting you. You did not question him. He was short and to the point with his words. No sugar-coating. You admired that.

You smirked his way, confidence washing over you. In a way, you felt like you had the upper hand here. He was the one who had confessed in uncertainty. “You should get better seats for the show.”

His eyes widened a little in shock at your brazenness. You’d surprised him, and his mouth stretched into a grin, a bewildered laugh leaving him as his browline furrowed. It was a glorious sound. “I really don’t scare you? Disgust you?”

“Of course not.” You replied so surely it would be difficult to doubt you. Maybe you were stupid. Maybe this was all part of his masterplan, but there was a small self-destructive part of you that didn’t even care. “Would I be working here otherwise?”

“You got me there,” he silked. Gaze holding yours.

The most deepest of desires began to come alive inside of you. Swirling around in your gut. Desires you’d held at bay because it was laughable to think you’d ever be in with a chance with someone like him. And perhaps a larger part of you was ashamed by your longings. Kim Seokjin was a bad person by definition. It didn’t matter how charming he was. How potentially misunderstood he was, or how secretly sensitive he was. Romanticised theories that should make you sick at yourself. This was wrong, a small voice whispered furiously in the back of your head, but when had that ever stopped you?

You hesitated but went for it anyway. It was too late. You’d made your decision. “If we’re confessing things... You’re way too pretty to be as dangerous as you are.” Half a glass of wine and you were already losing yourself.

He cocked a black, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Pretty? That’s a new one.” He chuckled quietly before making a joke. “These genes come from my mom.” Such a normal thing to say. You wanted to believe he was just like anyone else. Or maybe you truly didn’t care…

“Mr. K–Seokjin,” you corrected yourself quickly. The concept of being on first name terms would take a while to get used to. You took a breath and went for it, fingers reaching for his hand that held his whiskey. What did you have to lose? His lust for you was real. The ball was in your court.

You circled patterns against the skin between his thumb and index finger. It was stone cold. A sensation you were still not too used to, or maybe it was because this touch meant so much more. Despite the ice, he was marble smooth. You looked at his face. True beauty. He was staring right back at you, holding his breath, waiting for you. Hunger roared inside your body now. You tried your best to keep it under control.

“I know it’s out of hours and I’m not really dressed for it anymore but... I could dance for you right now if you like?”

You tilted your head to match your question. He copied, giving you a small smile, tone teasing when he spoke. Low and oddly soothing. “Private dances aren’t allowed.”

“You’re the boss. You make the rules.” You watched him hesitate, mulling your suggestion over in his head. It was actually kind of cute. Had he not expected you to accept his advances so easily?

He pulled his hand from the tumbler, his fingers gingerly reaching for yours and you clasped onto them. “Mm?” You prodded, watching him all the way. He gave you a tight nod, and that was all you needed to continue.

Rising up from your seat and leaving your purse at the foot of the stool, he followed you as you guided him by the hand to a set of centre red plush sofas. They curled around a small table, in perfect view of the largest stage. Not two hours ago this place had been filled to the brim, this section worth a hell of a lot of money considering where it was placed, but now his club was empty, safe for you and him. The reminder sent a thrill up you.

You slowly pushed him down to sit, hand on his chest before you let go and stood over him. A grin on your face. “Best seat in the house. No obstructed view.”

He didn’t reply, but the look on his face was almost giddy. You spun on your feet, back to him as you slinked away, towards the centre pole, kicking off your shoes. You didn’t get much of a chance to dance with it, this place saved for the ones who had been here longer. So this was an added excitement.

“This would be highly unprofessional in business hours,” he called after you. His laughter fizzling off when you began to lift your sweater over your head. “What are you doing?”

You turned back to him, a shy smile on your face. “I can’t entertain you in this.” You threw the mustard knit to the floor. “Will it do?”

He scoffed. Eyes a little wide, pupils starting to blow out. “You could be in anything. I wouldn’t mind.”

You appreciated the sentiment, but you didn’t know if you agreed. You’d removed the showy lingerie you’d been wearing tonight in favour of something more comfortable; a black cotton bralette, and you still had your leggings on as you gripped the pole with both hands. It wasn’t your best outfit, but you hoped it sufficed.

How odd it was to swing and grind in front of your boss. A man you hadn’t had anything to do with until tonight. Dancing to no music was strange, too. You had to imagine the beats and sounds in your head, praying you didn’t look too wooden, but somehow it began to feel increasingly intimate. Seokjin was a silent spectator, but it didn’t bring you a sense of unease. Excitement coursed through your veins, but you didn’t dare look at him while you moved. This was a reality you still couldn’t get your head around.

You didn’t know how long you were at it for, lost to the soundless rhythm, but soon enough you needed to catch your breath. He was still sat where you placed him but his eyes were fully black now, trained on your figure. As if in a trance It took a moment for him to notice you had stopped. His legs were spread open, giving you a very great eyeful of his crotch. A couple of buttons on his dress shirt lied open that weren’t before. It gave him an almost bedraggled look. You say almost, because his hair was still perfectly parted at his forehead. You suddenly had the mental image of your fingers running through it, tugging at the ends as he fucked you into the very sofa he sat on. You blinked away the dirty thought, taking a few deep breaths.

He also blinked, albeit slowly, outstretching one hand to beckon you. “Come here.” He croaked; voice thick with something that made you burn up.

You smirked. “That’s against the rules.” Private dances were strictly forbidden.

“Am I not the boss?” That was so. You laughed, and obeyed instantly, descending the metal steps to make your way to him. “You move exquisitely,” he complimented as you did so. His voice a little more human now. His eyes however, were anything but. Close now, inches apart, you saw the light grey that ringed the dilated pupils. It made him look unreal. Showed him for he really was. Undead. However, fear was the last thing on your mind.

“Can I touch you?”

“I thought you made the rules?” This back and fore only thickened the desire in the room, but you truly did appreciate his manners. That, and you really wanted him to touch you. You wanted to touch him too.

Straddling him slowly, your knees pressing into the soft velvet of the sofa, his cold hands met your waist and you jumped in shock, giggling in reaction. He did nothing but hold on as you attempted to dance atop of him. You say attempted, because you were basically grinding on him by now. You wrapped your arms around his neck, loving the way his breathing was laboured. Chest rising and falling visibly.

You felt his erection quickly begin to from under you, and it wasn’t long before he acknowledged it. In his own way, of course. “Forgive me for being inappropriate.” He apologised in advance. You held your breath in curiosity. “But have you ever fucked a rotter?”

With a lack of oxygen you replied instantly. “No.”

He swallowed. His dick twitched in his expensive slacks. “Are you opposed to it?”

You replied with only truth, confidence and desire. “Not if you’re the one in question.”

The noise that tore from his throat was nothing you’d ever heard before. A man starved, finally given the chance of relief. He flew at your mouth, movements hasty and rough. You gladly matched them. Everything was cold, something you weren’t used to at all. Not like this anyway. His tongue like ice ran along your own, both wet but drastic in temperature. It was a contrast that sent your nerves into overdrive. Sensitivity at its highest peak. You clung to his shoulders, rolling your palms over the thick flesh and muscle, as you moaned quite shamelessly into his mouth.

His hands found your face, gripping you tight as he continued to kiss you furiously. You were close to burning up, heart pounding in your chest at your new reality. A groan from him puzzled your mind as he tore away. “Not here. Not yet,” he rasped, lips wet because of you. He tried to keep him distance but failed, falling into your mouth once again to taste you. “I won’t fuck you in a place like this. You deserve better than that.”

You clung to him now, deflation beginning to drop to your gut. You were riled up, ready for him, he couldn’t take it away now. Not when he was solid between your spread legs. You gasped when he took your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging it carefully. Everyone knew the dangers of a zombies’ teeth. One false move and it was game over. The risk just seemed to turn you on all the more. You were sick. Sick for him.

“But I want you so bad. I want to make you feel all the pleasure in the world,” he divulged. He sounded so passionate, so desperate, fresh waves of longing and need flooded your body. Heat pooled against his cock. “Will you let me do that right now? Just a little bit?”

“Yes,” you practically exclaimed. Overcome and out of breath. You didn’t know what that request pertained but you would take anything for even the slightest bit of relief.

You had a better understanding once you found yourself under his large, solid body. Spread out on the velvet like your tainted mind had imagined not fifteen minutes previous. He kissed down your neck, lapping at the skin like you could fill him up. A sensation that had your eyes closing, feeling powerless but loving it. Even more so when you felt him between your breasts. It was a wonderful fusion; to be boiling hot but feel his cool, marble touch all over your body. His hands roamed you, familiarising himself with the woman’s body. Every bump, curve and dip, your soft moans encouraging him, until he couldn’t take anymore.

You pulsed when you felt his long fingers curl behind the waistband of your leggings. “Can I take these off?” He looked you straight in the eyes as he spoke, as if he was reading your face for any hesitation. There was none. You nodded firmly, a trembled ‘yes’ leaving your throat.

He pulled you forward in one swift motion, propping you up against the plush backrests. He was out of breath, jaw slack and eyes still practically black as he crouched, beginning to tug down the black fabric, your legs thrown over one of his shoulders. You didn’t realise he’d strip you of your underwear too. You were very naked, very quickly. Your bra the only thing left.

“Beautiful.” He uttered, eyes between your legs before he looked up at you. “You’re beautiful.”

You smiled at him, something he couldn’t seem to be able to bear, because he was on your mouth again in a flash. He kissed you greedily, low moans escaping him in regular sequence. Spoiled, he made his way down your chest, finding the swell of your breasts to flirt between. It wasn’t long before the fabric was pulled down, one nipple in his mouth while he rubbed the other with the pad of his thumb. That had you moaning, your legs wrapping around his hips to keep him latched to you. Cramped on the sofa, cramped under his body, but loving it. Pleasure swirled and grew heavy in your stomach. Arousal beginning to pool between your legs. It wasn’t long before you were grinding yourself against his body uncontrollably, desperate for some relief down south.

He pulled away when you began whining, teeth lightly grazing the flushed peak as he went. You gasped. Maybe it really was the danger that turned you wanton. Seokjin grinned your way as he sunk to his knees on the floor. He knew it too. He was already learning. You watched with bated breath as he spread your legs, giving him a very intimate view. You’d be self-conscious by now, maybe even uncomfortable, but not tonight. Not with him.

You pulsed against his thumb as he touched you, and all you could do was watch as he carefully began to rub at your clitoris, feeling it engorge beneath his cold touch. You moaned softly, hips circling ever so slightly, enjoying the almost cruel pleasure. Your arousal spread, wet noises squelching under his skin, lewd in your ears.

He looked up at you, eyes black, ringed silver grey. They made you shiver. So did his words. “Can I taste you?” His hair had become out of place, finally, falling in his eyes, and you reached for it, running the white and black strands through your fingers before nodding.

He dived straight in, those plump, almost blue-red lips encompassing your clit. You gasped as he sucked, pushing into him and clutching his hair in your fist. His cool tongue laved you almost hesitantly at first, searching for what you liked and what made you moan, until he grew confidence. You forgot he was familiarising himself again after so long. Hazy with lust, his movements weren’t calculated. They were made with haste and a fervent urge; hands wrapping around the underside of your thighs to hold them and pull you closer. Letting him feast until his heart content.

He only pulled away to catch his breath, minutes later, face from the nose down shining with a colourless substance. The same substance coated the heat between your legs and apex of your thighs. Probably stained the sofas too. You were sticky and burning up. Not even the the touch of his cool finger could control it as he ran the digit down your folds. He stopped at your entrance, tip pushing in slowly. You throbbed around nothing, desperate to be filled. He noticed of course, and he made to remove his rings.

You stopped him. “Keep them on.” You’d already felt the cool metal of his rings against the inside of your thigh when he’d been enamoured with your centre and everything it had to offer. You wanted more. A hell of a lot more.

He raised his brows in surprise, pausing before shrugging. “Anything for you.” You tried to suppress your moan as he pushed his index finger inside you, palm up, cold metal pressed against your swollen folds. He shifted closer, curling the digit against your velvet-like walls. He seemed to like the feeling, humming to himself, before he studied your face closely. “When was the last time someone had you like this?”

You cocked an eyebrow, smirking. “What? Like this specifically? In this bar, spread out naked on the VIP suite? Never.”

He gave a low chuckle. It shot through your body. “You think you’re funny.” You tried snarking him back but he slipped a second finger inside you, straightening them as he went. “No but,” he began, slowing thrusting them in and out. Your jaw grew slack as you watched him, the quietest of strained moans leaving you. “I just want to know how many people I have to contend with.”

That made you laugh. But fine, if he was so curious. “It’s been a while. Nearly a year.” You’d been single since then, your last relationship ending badly, and hook up culture wasn’t what it was since the virus. You smirked his way. “So, no one at all.”

“That’s great for me then.” He laughed heartily, almost as if he wasn’t three knuckles deeps inside you, and wasting no time getting intimate between your legs again.

You came hard. Shaking all over when he finally relented his tongue. Covered in a sheen of sweat and out of breath. He continued the movement of his fingers at his leisure, looking up between your body. The tips of his hair were wet and clung together. It wasn’t him—the undead incapable of sweating—but your arousal, which he seemed to be unable to get enough of. In all honesty, it seemed it he was unable to get enough of you full stop. Still determined to please you.

He shot his fingers deep, ripping a moan from your chest as your back curled. “You’re still sucking me in. What a greedy cunt you have.” Your burned at his crude words, squeezing around his fingers. “Do you consider yourself greedy?” He spoke low and calm, but you could hear the slight quiver to his voice. It made you feel powerful. You hated that word. Greed. But for him… It was different.

“If it’s for a pleasure like that, then yes,” you laughed breathlessly.

He tutted, curling his fingers along the ridges of your insides. Coaxing you. Enjoying the way your lower body contorted. “You flatter me. I would say I’ve reverted to novice status again after all these years.”

You didn’t think so. Unless that was the reality of someone like Kim Seokjin between your legs. He got you coming so good, better than you had in a long time, so maybe it was both options shared. “Somethings you never forget,” you told him simply.

He didn’t reply, instead rising up, kneeling on the edge of the sofa instead. You lifted your legs to accommodate him. His fingers got deeper and you tightened around them again. “I’m greedy too, you know?” He almost warned, his free hand gripping the back of your neck to tilt your head. Ice. He was speaking as he held his breath, moaning slightly when you did. “I want you to cum again. Please.” He always remembered his manners, even when impatient.

You faltered. You didn’t know if you could. Yes, it still felt good to have him inside of you, but you were too exhausted to go again surely. He leant over your body, caging you with his solid one as he murmured into your ear. “I want the visual ingrained in my mind forever.” He snapped his wrist hard against you. The pleasure made your eyes roll back.

“O-kay–!” You gasped out, nodding your head eagerly, gripping onto his shoulders. It was a big fuck you to the exhaustion. You wanted to cum again too.

Your body withstood his vicious pace, walls clamping down on him every time he thrusted into you. You were hot and sweaty again, held down by his large build, which only added to your delight. You imagined he was fucking you. Desperate for the real thing.

“You trust me a lot,” he mused, your hands in his hair now. It was surprising to you that he let you touch it like this. You looked at him curiously, wondering what he could mean, and felt his movements slow. You realised just how hard you’d been holding your breath, gasping for it at the tiniest of reprieve. “One accidental scratch and that’s it, game over. You’re one of me.” He spoke in an almost disarming whisper. It did not frighten you.

You moaned at the dragging of his fingers, before smiling lazily. “You’re not so foolish.” You’d already taken note that his fingernails were perfectly trimmed when you’d admired his hands at the bar.

“Maybe not. But in other ways…” he drawled off, lips millimetres from yours. You wanted him to kiss you so bad. “I enjoyed being a fool between your legs. On my knees…” You moaned softly, enjoying his words, eyes still glued to his mouth. It moved away; your chest grew heavy in disappointment.

“Would you get on your knees for me?”

His question had you squeezing again. The smirk told you he felt it. “Right now?” You asked, maybe a little too eager.

“No.” He laughed. “Not right now. Tonight is about you. But next time...”

You took a shaky breath and nodded. “Gladly.”

“Good girl,” he smiled at you. The praise went to your head, somewhere else too, and he let go of your neck, readjusting himself to begin picking up the pace again. You watched down your body, lifting your folded legs nearer your chest so you could have a better look at his hand as it pleasured you. His veiny forearm tensing with the force of his thrusts. You were so wet you glistened in the overhead lighting—so did the dark jewel on one of his rings—and you squelched noisily around his fingers, sucking him in over and over again. Greedy, you were.

“Fuck.” Seokjin cursed under his breath, distracting you, and you found his eyes were locked between your legs too. Mesmerised. “Delectable, as ripe as a peach…” It didn’t take you much longer to cum again. You felt sorry to whoever would sit in the VIP lounge tomorrow night.

Afterwards, once you’d both calmed down—you, dressed but still quite shaky, and he, now composed but hair still in disarray—he asked if you’d accompany him for dinner at his house next time he was free. You agreed quite instantly. You knew what it meant, and you needed it. Needed him. You also agreed when he insisted he’d arrange for a car to take you home that night. You had your own, but you’d had something to drink, regardless how small, and that just didn’t sit right with him. He’d get someone to drop off your vehicle the next morning.

Before you left, he bid you goodnight with a kiss to the cheek and thanked you for a lovely night, emphasising just how much he was looking forward to dinner with you soon. Just the thought had you up for hours when you found yourself in bed, alone, but still warm and sated from your two orgasms.

Seokjin’s house was stunning. A far cry from from your dingy apartment on the tenth floor of an ancient tower block. You were used to it now, but back then you had felt very out of place in such a beautiful home. He arranged for a car to pick you up, very much like the one that had dropped you off home four nights ago. A sleek black thing, with darkened windows. You didn’t know the name, a car was a car, but again, way out of your league. Four days was a short time in someone else’s perspective, but to you it had dragged by. Especially having to see him every night since while you danced in the club. Glances and knowing smirks just made it harder. You understood though, he was a busy man. He called you in the morning, apologising for the short notice, but he’d found a break in his schedule. If you agreed not to be at the club tonight, he could arrange dinner at his place.

You hadn’t hesitated. Had been preparing all day. The longest soak in the bath you could manage without turning into udon. You even brought the wax strips out. Found the most elegant dress you owned in the back of your closet. A blood red, floor length piece.

His phone call had felt very formal, but that was him all over, you had only just started finding out. You weren’t 100% sure, but the 0.1% didn’t matter… You were going to have sex together tonight. The thought made you giddy. It was only the shock of his house that distracted you as you stepped inside. Large and elegantly decorated, it did not look at all like you’d imagined. Not that you’d tried to. It was impossible to wonder what an undead mobster’s home would look like, but as a bachelor, it definitely wasn’t this. It almost seemed lonely to have just one person living here. You kept those thoughts to yourself though and let him lead you into the lounge, where, and you assumed this, a butler of some kind handed you a glass of champagne. This was not your world.

He even had members of staff to cook for him. Food you knew for a fact belonged in michelin starred restaurants. His dining room was grand, the beautifully carved mahogany table able to fit six people. Perhaps this place was once his family home. It made sense. He sat at the head, while you were placed directly opposite him. The distance was a little unnerving, but he was able to converse in small talk exceptionally well. It was lighthearted and casual, and soon eased you up.

You found it intriguing when he doused everything he ate in hot sauce, unable to stop yourself from giggling and he looked up, confusion etched in his features before he realised what had amused you so. You had no idea the need was that bad.

“Nothing tastes good without a little kick,” he explained, putting the bottle down. “Even the brains.”

You laughed. “You must go through hot sauce by the gallon.”

He smiled before reaching for his glass of red wine. “Me being a rotter really doesn’t phase you, does it?” He still seemed to be unable to get over the surprise.

You gave him a small shrug, picking up your cutlery. “It’s the world we live in now.” You sounded like a broken record. That was your explanation for everything.

You waited for him to continue the conversation. There was a pause and then– “Thanks to your father.”

You froze, an instant sense of dread filling you at the casual remark. You swallowed, looking across at Seokjin. “H-how did you know?”

He raised a perfect eyebrow as he brought the glass to his mouth. You watched half the red liquid disappear. The clank as he put it down on the wood made you flinch, and your heart thudded as you waited for his reply. He gave you smile. It didn’t seem fully loaded. “Is that you undermining my power?”

Whatever his intentions were you panicked regardless. “No, I just–”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t some kind of trick. Some kind of revenge...” He interrupted with a quick chuckle. Relief flooded you. Not that you had thought such things explicitly, but Seokjin was the man he was… Your lust hadn’t made you forget that much. He had found out what you’d spent the last three years or so trying to hide after all…

“I have brought you here to fuck.” Despite your alarm, something squeezed in your gut and pulsed between your legs at his frankness. “I’m just curious... You hide it well. Why?”

Unsure what to do, you took a mouthful of food. The chewing letting you think for a moment. Did you really want to divulge your family affairs with him? He was a man of few words and considering what he was—dangerous and undead—you couldn’t be sure to trust his intentions. Maybe you’d made a mistake coming here. Letting his words and actions cajole you.

“Good?” He asked, watching you eat.

You looked at him and nodded. Wiping your face with the napkin placed on your lap you decided to give him some of the details. Not all. “It’s not something I want to be associated with.”

Seokjin frowned. “You don’t agree?”

You shook your head. That had come out wrong. “I don’t agree with my parents’ greed.”

When the zombie virus had hit four years ago your father, a highly gifted scientist, had been one of the first to try and recreate it. To produce something better. For what, you didn’t quite understand. He had no desire to turn himself or his family. No, you guessed it was for the fame, the money…the glory… In the end, it took a number of people to create such a thing, but yes, he’d been one of them… Your mother had been so proud. Sick. That was still what you thought now. Turning the world into undead creatures who needed human brains to survive seemed utterly bizarre. Disturbing… But like you said, the glory seemed to be their fuel…

You hadn’t spoke to either of them in two years and prior to that, conversations were few and far between. To cut them out of your life hadn’t been a sudden decision though. Your whole life you’d always felt like you didn’t belong. Born to the wrong family. Maybe that was a problem with you. An issue you didn’t want to give much thought about, but one thing was for certain, you didn’t think anything like them. You’d spend most of your life rebelling. Maybe you were still doing so… The club you worked at would see them foaming at the mouth. You, surrounded by the people your father helped create. And Seokjin… Seokjin was a man your parents would be horrified to see you with. That thought brought you great pleasure.

“You don’t get along?” You shook you head in reply. Surprisingly it was enough for him. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” Or maybe he already knew that… He probably knew everything about you. He’d been humouring you all this time. For some reason that didn’t scare you like it should’ve. It was quite reassuring to know that despite everything, you were the one he wanted. Maybe your self esteem was shot to pieces. Maybe you were just an idiot.

You smiled. “Thanks.”

He jerked his head towards the direction of your plate. “Let’s not get distracted for too long. Dinner is getting cold.”

You ate with more small talk. He asked if you’d ever been out the country and when you’d replied yes, he insisted that you tell him all about Japan, like he’d never been there before. Maybe he hadn’t… You didn’t ask. In all honestly, you were positive he was trying his best to relax you again after his slight interrogation. It was endearing.

Once dinner was done and his staff had taken the used dishes away, you suddenly remembered what was to come next. You began to feel a little out of your depth. The night at the club had happened out of the blue, but this was pre-planned. Nerves itched at your skin, just wondering how this would go down now, but that didn’t mean you weren’t excited. Giddy.

“You really do look so beautiful tonight.” He praised quietly, admiring you from across the table. He had already told you that when he’d greeted you at his door, but you would never get enough. “I feel a little underdressed.”

You scoffed. “You look perfect. As always.” He was always found in a suit, so his attire for tonight was nothing new. Apart from the velvet suit jacket he wore. It was fancy, something you could never imagine him gracing the club with, and the cream embroidered shirt underneath suited him beautifully. His hair tonight was swept above his forehead, accentuating his breath-taking bone structure.

He closed his eyes as he smiled in silent thanks. When they opened you noticed they were getting darker, grey almost unnoticeable from where you sat. You suddenly thought about him between your legs. You squeezed them together under the table, trying to quell your dirty thoughts. You think he noticed, or maybe he was remembering back too.

“I’m surprised you can’t feel it,” he mused on cue.

“Feel what?” You sounded slightly shaky. Out of breath.

“My need for you is practically raging from my body,” he explained simply.

Something heavy dropped into your gut. Confidence began to wash over you again. It was nice to feel this powerful. “You hide it well.”

“Do I?” He laughed. “I must have more self control than I give myself credit for. I’ve been agitated ever since that night… Unable to stop imagining getting my hands on you again.”

You let out a tremble of a breath. More images flew around the forefront of your mind. The coldness of his hands caressing your body. The ice of his tongue inside your mouth, against your skin, laving against your… You closed your eyes, unable to cope. He murmured your name softly. As if he was desperate for you to look his way again. You obeyed. “I’m so incredibly attracted to you.”

You could hear your heart thudding against your ribcage. It almost felt strange, like it didn’t belong to you. When you chuckled, it didn’t sound like you either. Your lust for him was taking over. Time was nearing. “You already said, Seokjin.” You liked the sound of his name as it curled off your tongue.

He chuckled back. “Am I boring you? I thought flattery would be first protocol.”

You continued to laugh at his choice of words, shaking your head. “There’s no need. I’m here, aren’t I?”

He held your stare. It was almost like he was staring inside of you. “That you are.” He sounded like he still couldn’t believe his luck. He rolled his shoulders. “Well. I can still say what I like. It’s all true. I’m not trying to manipulate you here.” You chose to believe him. “Although... You don’t look like someone who falls victim to such things.” You shrugged, playing it casual. Maybe he was correct. You’d long stopped giving men the power to get inside your mind. You hoped it would hold with Seokjin.

“I’ll cut to the chase then.” He continued, realising you weren’t going to divulge anything that could confirm his assumptions. “One night won’t be enough. I want to enter a sexual relationship with you.”

Your eyes widened. Surprise visible on your face no doubt. Call you naïve, maybe clueless, but that possibility hadn’t crossed your mind. A one off was all you’d imagined. Seokjin had thirsted after you for months now, it seemed. Until he couldn’t ignore it any longer. In your head, one night would have been enough for him. What was so special about you? It seemed ludicrous he’d want something permanent. Taken aback, all you could do was listen to him.

“These,” he paused, “urges I have, they’ve been suppressed for far too long. I have curiosities. Maybe they’ve always been there, morphing with the passing months...years.” He shrugged, and you wondered why he had stifled himself for so long. You also wondered why you. Why were you so special? “It wasn’t until I noticed you that these thoughts...fantasies, became unbearable.”

You took his words like they were information at a business meeting. In fact, he was talking to you like such. It was strange. He was talking about imagining fucking you most probably, and here you were just nodding your head. You squeezed your legs under the table again. You were hot. Your excitement was building again and you were trying your best to control yourself. This wasn’t normal. You shouldn’t be here, but your desire for him seemed to have crept up and snaked its way around your throat.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you but I need things to be in black and white.”

“I understand.”

“You do?” He raised both eyebrows in surprise. You felt powerful with the knowledge you kept proving him wrong. “Your pleasure is my utmost importance. All of my fantasies include you enjoying yourself. Rest assured. However,” he looked down at the table. Was he flustered? Feeling awkward? How unusual. “There are some things I want to indulge in that aren’t to everyone’s taste. I do not wish to trap or force you into anything. If you don’t agree, then that’s that. No hard feelings. This isn’t a sweet or romantic joining. I don’t know if I’m truly capable of that…”

You puzzled in your head. What an odd thing to say. You hadn’t so much as thought about this being anything about romance. You knew where you stood. You hoped he wasn’t assuming that’s what you thought. You’d given up on love and romance a long fucking time ago. “I don’t expect it to be,” you added, wanting it to be clear.

He paused, smiled slightly and then chucked. “Then you understand I have this animalistic need to take you any which way I’m allowed.” He made sure your eyes were locked when he spoke. So he could see your reaction. It was hard tying to keep your expression neutral as you imagined just as he’d said. The corner of your mouth definitely twitched. Of course he saw. You could tell by the way he tried to suppress his smirk.

“I can be patient if you need more time.” He continued. “I am very much insistent that it’s you—there is no one else—however, if you disagree or discover I bring you no joy, I expect one day I’ll find another.” You admired his honesty. “Also. Selfish of me I know, but if you agree then there must be no other sexual partners during our attachment. Please.” “Seokjin...” You began, guessing he’d finished his proposition of sorts.

“I know.” He interrupted before you could say anything. “This is a lot to take in. You’re overwhelmed.”

“No,” you insisted. “I agree. I’m willing to give this a chance.”

He let your words marinate before swallowing. “What I’ve said doesn’t scare you?”

You scoffed. “No.” You’d already knew sex with him wouldn’t be conventional. You’d found that out from his very brazen attitude and mouth the night you were spread against the club’s VIP sofa. Your only mistake had been thinking it would be just once. You felt giddy knowing there would now be endless encounters. You craved him just like he craved you. It was a new sensation, something that had only been been simmering since you caught his eyes on you as you danced, but it was powerful and steadfast, and needed to be sated. Tonight.

He nodded to himself, seemingly deciding then and there to start taking action. “We’ll take it slow. Learn from one another.”

“That sounds good,” you agreed, unconsciously sitting up straighter, leaning in almost eagerly.

“Tonight,” he hushed. “Tonight I just want to feel you. Pleasure you. To become accustomed with your body and what you like.”

You let out a shaky breath. You could almost feel the impending pleasure running through your veins. You’d had a taste of it a few nights ago. “I feel very much the same. Tonight is just the beginning.”

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tensed before he looked you straight in the eyes. Raising his hand he beckoned you. “Come.” You were beginning to see a pattern, and just like that you obeyed. His tastes were of the dominate kind. You would gladly listen.

Rounding the corner you made your way over and stopped right in front of him. He scraped his chair back, making room between him and the table, and motioned you to slot in between.

“When you said you’d get on your knees for me…” He reminded you. A suggestion of sorts. Maybe it was put that way to soften the order.

Your eyes widened, looking at the door that lead into the kitchen. “Here?”

“Don’t worry.” He smiled, taking your hands. “No one will will come in. They shall be leaving soon anyway. They won’t interrupt us.”

You listened, finding yourself in his lap, dress crumpled around your middle, creasing to no end, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Not when you could feel his erection pressing into you. You took initiative. Rising up to let your palm caress him. You’d been dying to get your hands on him ever since the night at the club. To feel him full and thick and long between your fist, in your mouth, in your– You reached to kiss him. He slipped his tongue inside your mouth like he’d been waiting for it, grunting when you gave his dick one quick squeeze.

“Seokjin,” you breathed, lips sticky as you pulled away. “Forgive my manners. I never confessed my attraction towards you too the other night.” It was easy to let him do all the talking, but you wanted to let him know you were 100% into this because you wanted him too. It didn’t go one way. You weren’t just agreeing to this for the hell of it.

He reached for your face, rubbing the apples of your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “No need to flatter me,” he smiled, dropping one thumb to the edge of your mouth. He tugged your bottom lip down slightly and met the tip of your tongue. “I guess my tongue did the persuading, mm?”

You swiped across the cool flesh and pulled away with a grin. “Trust me, if there was no attraction that wouldn’t have happened.”

He laughed, genuinely amused, before grabbing you by the hips, pulling you into his chest. “Enough chit chat. I thought you were supposed to be sucking my dick?”

Just like the rest of him, his cock was cool. Something you had never experienced before. It was swollen, filled with blood, but ice cold. Impossible, yet here you were. Knelt between his spread legs, laving him against your tongue. You had the intense urge to please him as best you could. Show him what he’d been missing all this time and just worship the beautiful, pretty gift between his thighs. He seemed to be unable to get used to the hot, wet velvet of your mouth, eyes glued to you, watching every move you made with soundless gasps. His hands gripped the arms of the chair at first, knuckles purple, until he decided he couldn’t hold back any longer. Taking your hair in his fists, his rings cold against your scalp, he held on tight, finally letting himself moan when you slackened your jaw and slid him down your throat as far as you could take him.

He liked it when you choked on his dick. He froze every time, digging his fingers into your scalp. He liked when you slicked him with your fist, thumb circling the sensitive slit that pooled drops of precum all over the place. He really had fought off all sexual urges for so long it seemed. You wondered if he’d even attempted to pleasure himself? It wasn’t something you were brave enough to ask, but you were brave enough for other things…

You wanted him to experience all the pleasure he’d been missing over the years, tongue pointing and going south, licking thin but long lines up and across his scrotum. He gasped, the noise choking in his throat as he jerked, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shuffled closer on your knees, holding his cock tall in your hand so you could slowly suck one of his balls into your mouth, softly caressing the cool encasing with your tongue. You made sure to look him in the eyes as you did so, feeding of the reactions he gave you. His mouth fallen open in a soundless groan.

You smirked as you pulled away, pleased with yourself, and began kissing up his length, swirling your tongue across the cool marble, pressing your plush lips in the flesh; getting him obscenely wet. His fingers found their way around the back of your neck, holding you firmly as you popped him back into your mouth, sucking intently on the head of his cock, your fist working the base of him, slick noises filling the air, mixed with his low, staccato moans.

When you began getting lower, hallowing your cheeks to accommodate him, your tongue tracing patterns along the underside of his thickness, his hands flew to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair to stop you. You pulled back instantly, waiting for some kind of response from him. He was close. Dangerously close. You understood that.

“I want –” He cut himself short, voice gruff, and cleared his throat, hips jumping when you kissed the tip of his cock. He tried again, taking one hand to caress your face. “I want to cum on your face.” Your legs squeezed together. Excitement overcoming you. “Please.” He added that as an afterthought, forgetting his manners with the urge to cum.

You smiled, slowly taking his hand from your cheek to guide it to the base of his cock, exchanging yours with his. He gripped himself tightly, and you squeezed your palm over his fist. Giving him permission with a sordid whisper. “Be my guest.”

You waited for it on your knees, between his spread legs and watched as he raked his beautiful hand over his equally as beautiful cock. Slowly at first, exploring the pleasure and then he sped up, jerking the top in tight, quick motions, chair legs screeching across the floor again as raised up, tightening his hold on your head to keep you in place. His breathing laboured before a strangled roar left him.

You prepared yourself, closing your eyes as you felt the first spurt hit your nose and drip down your top lip. The second flew across your left cheek. Unlike the rest of him, this substance was searing hot, shocking you so much you gasped. The third spurt, stronger, landed in your mouth. You swallowed and savoured the taste. It wasn’t over. It just kept coming, coating your face and congealing in the air, as Seokjin furiously tried to get every last drop out. Savouring the pleasure, moaning in sweet relief until he grew weak from exertion, collapsing into his seat.

You peeled your eyes open, cum glooping from your right eyebrow and onto your eyelid and watched him with awe. All that filled the dining room was his rough breaths as he tried to get a hold of himself. He ran his clean hand through his hair, strands of white falling down, and finally took a look at you. He was silent for a long time, eyes still black, the crescents of silver sending a shiver up your spine. He leaned over, pulling some of your hair behind your ear, saving it from the mess that coated your face. He looked at you with wonder and amazement in his eyes, like he was trying to retain the image of you like this forever.

When he spoke, his voice sounded different. Softer, warmer. Weaker… “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on…” Two of his fingers ran along your bottom lip, spreading some of his cum along the way. “Like this…” He awed. “It takes my breath away.”

He reached behind you, his embroidered napkin coming into view. The set was probably more expensive than your outfit. He began cleaning your face up, and you let him obediently, still kneeling on the hard floor. It was all worth it though. For him. For what was to come.

When he was done, he threw the soiled cloth to the table. There was still some cum on his fingers, where he’d rubbed your lip, and he opened your mouth, dotting your tongue with the fluid before he stuck two fingers inside, holding the muscle down before he prodded you to suck them. You did so, mimicking how you had pleasured his cock, letting your tongue trail along the expanse of his rings. He groaned, the other hand cupping your face to make you look at him. He opened his mouth, sounded beside himself. “The things I want to do to you...”

You got no sleep that night. Fucking one another until the sun began to shine through his drapes, and then some more, letting him enjoy getting familiar with the sensation again, but also feeling a pleasure like no other yourself. No man you’d ever been with had been into sex this much, and his stamina, his strength, was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. He fucked you, quite literally, to glorious, pleasure-soaked tears. Three years really hadn’t hindered his skill at all, but he blamed it on his greed, incapable of taking a compliment. Nonsense, but you soon got used to that charming personality trait…

The weeks had rolled into months, and you continued just like that. Meeting and fucking any chance you got. It was him who called the shots. He was a busy man after all. You worked to his schedule. Fucked to his schedule, and luckily for you, you were in a position to drop work every time he called. Direct permission from the boss.

True to his word, you took it slow. Going further and further each time until your body was trained to him. His was trained to you too. What he liked, how he liked it and when to do it. You knew how to read his moods and work with it each time you met up for sex. There was a mutual trust between the two of you, and you would give your all if it meant pleasing him, because it brought you pleasure too.

Sex had always been just something you’d done. The guys got their rocks off and maybe if you were lucky, you’d get one orgasm, probably gifted by your own hands. Even when in love, sex hadn’t been this enjoyable nor exciting. It was all new with Seokjin. You lived for pushing yourself to the limit, finding something new and trying it. Greedy. Maybe that was the correct word, Seokjin had been right. You were greedy for one another. You’d be dammed. The desire and the pleasure you just knew you couldn’t get from anyone else. The chemistry was on a totally different level, and it just kept getting stronger.

Seokjin did have a softer appetite though. It wasn’t all hard and extreme. That was the beauty of it. He wasn’t a one-sided dom who used you as some kind of sex toy. He was gentle and caring, even when he had you tied to his bed, blindfolded and at his mercy. Sometimes he just wanted you. Raw and passionate. An unspoken vulnerable. You think in a way, even though you would never say it to his face, he sought comfort in you. On days when he was tired or stressed, he wanted you. Only you. There was a comfort there. And you gladly obeyed. How could you not? You were flattered he chose you to share this with. Touched, in a way.

Your bond only grew, until any awkwardness was a thing of the past. You could tease one another, joke around. It was surprising at first to find out someone like him could become embarrassed and shy when provoked about certain things. Like how he had been so formal in the beginning. He insisted it was because he was so awkward about his extended inexperience fighting head to head with the raging desire he had for you… It had sent him frenzied, until he had to do something about it. You were so glad he had…

Your relationship for the most part was left undetected. It was chosen that way, to keep things strictly professional at work, but also you suspected it was something more. He requested for you not to tell your friends or family, and the only one who knew about your arrangement on his side, was the driver who took you to and from his home. Seokjin’s line of work came with danger, and even though you didn’t voice it, you guessed that danger spread to anyone he was involved with; family, friends, lovers…

You say mostly undetected because of course there had been a slip up somewhere along the line. Working in such close proximity, perhaps you had been foolish. The club was always packed, someone was bound to pick up on it, and unluckily for you, it happened. Give you a major reality check to go with it.

You had been involved with Seokjin for near to three months when it did, juggling nights at work and nights spent with him. More often than not, both at the same time. That night wasn’t one though. He was away from the club altogether, so you got changed at your usual pace, surrounded by the rest of the human girls as they chatted. That night rotter talk filled the dressing room. There had been one watching one of the girls, Jaeha, dancing. He’d taken a shine to her and asked her out for dinner at closing time. She’d agreed, but now she was getting doubts, some of the other girls laying uncertainties in her head. Of course the conversation had turned to sex. It always did where men were concerned. But this was different. They were talking about having sex with a zombie. It was times like these you were thankful there was separate dressing rooms for the human and undead girls. Although some would probably still carry on the conversation regardless.

“What about you?”

You looked up, realising that Jaeha was directing the question your way. “Hm?” You played dumb, even though you had been listening to every word of the conversation. You just didn’t want to answer.

“What would you imagine it feels like being with a rotter?”

You gave a small shrug, realising you had no choice now and turned away as you replied. “I don’t know.”

“Wait. What was that?” She exclaimed excitedly and you inwardly sighed. You guess something about your body language hadn’t been believable. “You have?!” You gave another shrug but she wasn’t having any of it. “Look me in the eyes and say you haven’t!”

You faced her again, defeated, realising you had about half a dozen other pairs of eyes looking at you too. “Fine. I have.”

A couple others squealed. Maybe it was an age thing. You were a few years older than a handful of the girls. At twenty-two you had probably been easily excitable and naïve too. Scrap that. You definitely had been.

“Who?!”

Shit. She really wasn’t going to drop this, was she? You were hoping admitting to it would have been enough. You did up your jeans as you dismissed her. “It doesn’t matter who. It’s just sex. No different.”

“No different? But they’re cold,” she whined, shuddering at the thought. “Doesn’t that feel weird?”

You opened your mouth but found yourself stuck. This conversation was making you feel uncomfortable. Thankfully, a voice came to your rescue.

“You just get used to it.” You looked to your left to see Yeeun coming into view behind

the group of girls. She’d been here nearly the longest, your age, maybe a year older. She kept herself to herself most of the time, but you guessed she wanted to put this conversation to rest. That, and maybe put you out of your misery.

Jaeha turned and opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Yeeun spoke over her. “Jaeha, just make sure to be careful if you decide to go for dinner with that guy, yeah? Undead doesn’t mean he’s inherently bad but coming to a place like this should make you think. Keep your wits about you.”

Just like she’d wanted (and you) the conversation died. Everyone left soon after that, you close behind, but Yeeun was still getting changed, distracted by her phone. You stopped by the door as an afterthought, wanting to say something to her. “Thanks,” you called, waiting for her acknowledgment.

She slowly turned and smiled. “No problem.” You watched as she shoved her cell into her jacket pocket. “Um, you got a minute?”

You nodded, unable to guess what she wanted. She sighed, almost like she was psyching herself up. “First, this isn’t me trying to get up all in your business, alright?” You nodded again, slower this time. A sicky feeling in your stomach. “Everyone else may be clueless when it comes to who you’re fucking, but I’m not.”

You tensed. Maybe you’d misinterpreted her motives. She was trying to put you out of your misery yes, but it ran deeper than that. She was trying to save your skin. She knew. How? You were always careful to never talk in public with Seokjin. Yet… maybe your reluctance to leave early like you used to do roused suspicion from her. Maybe she’d seen you both leave together… Foolish. You panicked, played stupid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stared at you, calling your bluff. “Be careful, okay? You’re an adult, you can do whatever the hell you like, but just don’t forget who he is.” You kept quiet. There was no point denying it. “And I’m not on about him being undead. He’s...” She hesitated before deciding to go for it. “Just don’t forget he’s responsible for a lot of this city’s darkness.”

Unexplainable anger filled you. You didn’t like being judged, but more than that, the idea of someone judging Seokjin made your blood boil. She didn’t know him like you did. How kind he was when you were alone, how gentle… He wasn’t what people described him as behind closed doors. But what was the point? You knew you couldn’t tell her that. She’d just laugh at you, tell you how deluded you were. Maybe that’s what you were scared of... That you really were deluded. In over your head…

You watched her shrug on her jacket, her mind at ease now that she’d warned you. “You don’t have a problem working in his club though?”

She froze before pulling out a cigarette from her pocket and chuckling. “It’s money, babe.” She placed the rolled tube in between her lips and spoke through it. “We all need it, and at the end of the day, I’m not the one fucking him.” She finished with a casual shrug. As if she had no worries. You had plenty.

You swallowed, careful to keep your voice steady. “Well thanks for your concern. I’ll bear it in mind.” And the you left, wiping away a stray tear from your left eye.

You didn’t tell Seokjin about what happened that night, certain that Yeeun didn’t care enough to tell anyone. She wasn’t like that, hated gossip like you. You were also worried that if he found out, he’d do something. You didn’t want her to get fired. She said she’d needed the money after all. Maybe your worry went even further than that… You didn’t know. If Seokjin was as bad as everyone seemed to think, you really didn’t know…

So you kept it to yourself. But you couldn’t shake the exchange. Seokjin noticed there was something wrong with you instantly. You saw him two nights afterwards, seeking distraction in the only way you knew with him. Sex. He was tired after his “business trip” and you went along with it, using it as a way to explain your unusual behaviour, so the sex was quick but indulgent. Definitely needed. You clung to him because you’d missed him. You clung to him because you were beside yourself. Torn and unable to truly feel fine. You’d thought being reunited again would reassure you. But it didn’t.

“Smoking again?” You asked him after you were done, watching him reach for the pack of cigarettes he kept on the nightstand.

He chuckled, knowing you hated the dirty habit. The addiction. Maybe in a way you were a hypocrite. “My insides are rotten anyway. What can it do to me?” He was correct you supposed. Rotten to the core. He was untouchable.

However, to your surprise he put them back, wrapping his arm around you like it had been. Your head on his chest, protected from the chill by a fur blanket. His temperature always seemed to get you after sex, your own levelling out. Plus with the winter months now it was harder. He wasn’t the best to cuddle with after sex, an activity that seemed to be happening more often, so you had to separate your bodies with warmth. You let silence spread over you both, lost in your own head with a whirlwind of thoughts.

“Hey,” he prodded gently after a little while, wanting you to look at him. “You’re lying to me. You’re not tired.” You didn’t bother to deny it. He sounded hesitant when he carried on. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You stayed silent for a moment. unsure how to begin, but you knew you couldn’t continue like this. You needed some type of reassurance from his mouth. Selfishly, you needed your conscience eased. You explained with a question, at least you hoped you did. “Do you like being who you are?”

Seokjin tensed under you, his expression becoming guarded and you instantly feared you’d crossed a line. He knew you were referring to his status, not his being. Something pretty much off limits. Discussed vaguely in the beginning, your joining was never about that. Now it seemed like a forbidden subject. You understood Seokjin saw you as an escape. He didn’t want to discuss work, and you didn’t want to hear it. Yet, it was looming over you, like an ominous presence. You needed something. You could live with who he was if he was as unsure of it as you were. You were positive. He just needed to be honest with you.

You waited patiently, and just as you resigned yourself to stone cold silence, he spoke.

“It was handed to me. I don’t particularly have a choice. It’s all I’ve ever known.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that was bitterness in his tone. “My father is frail now. I don’t know how long he has left. I want to make him proud, regardless of how stupid it sounds. It’s fucked up, I know that. Especially with life as it is now.”

You’d long given up trying to make your father proud, but you understood. Seokjin’s experiences were vastly different to yours, but you understood. His was a matter of life or death, you were sure of it. Yours was just the gradual estrangement from the people who had raised you. He confirmed the seriousness of his detriment in his next sentence.

“There’s nothing I can do about it. It’s my life. It’s expected of me. If I refused, said no... Ran away like a coward... God knows what would happen to me.”

Cruel of you maybe, but it was warming, reassuring to know he’d had such thoughts. Soothing to know in a lot of ways, he didn’t want this life. Selfish of you like you’d known. Trying to ease your own conscience, but here in his arms perhaps you really didn’t care. You didn’t care what Yeeun thought, what others would think if they ever found out. Your parents… None of it mattered because you knew that deep down, in his core, Seokjin was a good man. Rotten or not. He was good to you, and all that mattered. Yes, you were selfish, but you didn’t care.

“Fuck.” He cursed quietly, voice thick with emotion before he laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. “What a world we live in. When being a motherfucking zombie is considered normal and the least of your problems.”

You didn’t laugh along but kissed him softly. You think it stunned him, shutting him up instantly when you pulled away, until he exhaled, pulling you into another, longer, even sweeter kiss. He wrapped you in his arms tightly and you’d never felt safer. He got you onto your back, rolling on top of you, the fur separating your bodies, just, and your need for him burnt away inside your chest.

But he pulled away before you could do anything about it, opening his mouth to say something, expression hesitant. You cupped his cold face, trying your hardest to spread some of your warmth through his body, silently encouraging him to speak. He smiled thankfully. “I didn’t choose that either, by the way. This rotter body.”

Your forehead furrowed, trying to make sense of his words. “That shocks you,” he noted. “I know why. You think I wanted this, just like everyone else.” You opened your mouth to deny it, but what was the point? You hated gossip, like you’d said so many time before, never listened to it, but you had let it sink it’s way into your mind without realising.

Greed. You thought he was like all the rest. Seeking power. Your attraction to him overshot your distaste for the ghastly act of will, but maybe deep down, you’d hoped it wasn’t true.

“It’s okay,” he reassured, twisting slightly to kiss the palm of your hand. Then the tips of your fingers as you sought the touch. “I know what people say about me. They’re wrong though.”

“What happened?” You were whispering, asking without thinking. You didn’t want to pry but Seokjin had never shared this much before. You didn’t think he’d ever shared this much before. To anyone.

“A miscellaneous deal gone wrong. I won’t bore you with the details, but I was scratched.” Your eyes widened, heart ached for him. How wrong people were. How wrong you were. “I took it in my stride, still do. I guess in some ways it helped me, in others not so much... But,” he stopped himself, letting his eyes close as he kissed your fingertips again. When he opened them the grey looked sadder than usual. “Who will follow after me? The family name gone. Although maybe that isn’t a bad thing.” He added with an afterthought, chuckling humourlessly. “I would want no kid of mine doing this. I don’t know. What I’m trying to say is, if there was ever a cure, I’d take it in a heartbeat.” Your own heart beat loudly in your chest. “Wishful thinking, right?”

You were stunned to silence now, trying to make sense of everything. You wanted to reassure him. There was adoption, he needn’t have to dwell, but then it seemed like such a human, vulnerable thing to get hurt over. It made your throat tighten, eyes well up. You had never imagined his anguish over being undead. He always seemed so casual, so put together. His human life was stolen from him cruelly and he was just left to deal with it, alone. You didn’t care if that was his by choice or not. It made sense now, that in ways he had hidden from himself, and why. He was ashamed. He wasn’t greedy, he was lost.

“I don’t think so,” you murmured, caressing his face. “If they can mutate the disease and inject people with it, they can find an antidote.”

He smiled sadly. “Do you think they want that? This world is a corrupt place. Everyone has their own selfish reason’s for letting this disease take over.” He was correct. A cure would never be made by any official. But there could be other options. One day. Hope wasn’t lost.

“You can still live a normal life,” you insisted.

“I can never age. Who would want that? Amongst other things. I have everything against me.”

Something strong tore through your chest. It almost took your breath away, but you couldn’t voice it. You were too afraid. “I don’t think so.” You replied instead. It was hard to keep your voice stable. “What’s inside is more important.”

He chuckled sadly. “Angel, I’m rotten on the inside. Maybe on the outside too.”

His pet name warmed your heart, always did, but his words made it weep. You swallowed, coating your dry mouth and squeezed his face, clinging to him, hoping he’d understand what you were trying to say. “Not to me.”

He smiled, his eyes warming up and leant down to kiss you. “Thank you.” You held him close, sinking into his mouth. The cold was unnoticeable. He did understand. You could feel it in his kiss, taste it on his tongue.

He drew back slowly, just before he lost himself entirely. He had more to say before then. “I have never felt more comfortable with anyone than I have with you. More human...” He trailed off and laughed quietly. “Even when I was one.” He kissed you once more. Like he couldn’t keep away. Hands holding the sides of your face, he lingered, your breaths mingling.

“You care for me without judgement. That’s never happened before. I’ve never had that feeling.”

You squeezed his wrists in silent understanding, eyes glassy. You couldn’t speak if you tried. Couldn’t let him know you felt exactly the same, in fear of bursting into tears. He understood though. Of course he did.

And that’s where you were now. This present moment. The aftermath of such a confession only bringing you closer together. There were silent boundaries that had been made that night. Seokjin did not wish to go into detail about his days, nor did you want him to. You were at ease now, knowing you had been right about him, the others wrong. Yes, he wasn’t perfect. No one was. Yes, maybe if you knew the cold, hard facts, you wouldn’t be able to bear it, but you were happy being ignorant to that. It wasn’t greed that drove you, for Seokjin and all the pleasure he could give you. He had been wrong. You made him see that. It was a selfishness, and that was okay. It had to be. They were two different things. You were selfish for the happiness he made you feel, and likewise for him.

For the first time in your life, you were truly happy. Felt truly understood and not judged, and so did Seokjin. Despite your different life experiences, you were the same in your hearts; yours alive, his rotten, but it didn’t matter—and that’s why you’d been so drawn to him. Twin flames in this dark, overbearing world. You knew the weight of such words, but you didn’t care. Not when you had something good, something pure, and you were clinging to it with all your might.

As much as you had put him on a pedestal in the beginning, not quite believing he’d chosen you, wanted you. Potentially put your worth on his choice, it didn’t matter. Because he had done and felt the same. He had always been thankful you’d made the decision that you had. He was thankful that you wanted him. Still, even now. In ways, you had given him certain confidence and esteem that he’d been lacking. Similar to how he helped bloom yours too. Made you feel beautiful, sexy. It was not one sided with you two. It was real, and pure, and shared. Your admiration for one another. Your love…

Yes, this had been a simple arrangement. Sex. But it wasn’t so simple anymore. You both understood that. There would come a day when you’d have to acknowledge it, your feelings… It was potentially soon, or you could just keep hiding for a little while longer, but it would happen. Seokjin didn’t think he was capable of love after his turn. You remembered him saying something similar the first night you spent together, about romance. You knew now it was because he hated what he was. Undead. He had already lost so much of himself over the years, and to become infected only tore away more. But he was wrong. He was capable. You felt the love he gave you every day. Even if it was the silent kind. It shone from him, warmed you up when you clung to his ice cold flesh.

So yes, you were selfish, so was he. But you didn’t care. Not when you had one another to hide behind.

“How do you want me, Sir?” You silked the words, excitement bubbling away in the pit of your stomach. That was your little thing. What you called him sometimes. When he was in the mood for it.

He smiled at you, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. You tensed, studying him almost intently now. Maybe there had been a reason he was delayed. You opened your mouth to ask if everything was okay, but he beat you to it.

“No need for that tonight.” He sounded exhausted, beaten. You realised how terribly you’d misread the signs, feeling a little guilty as you sat up, tightening your gown over your chest. He walked over to his bureau, steps heavy on the wooden floor. Long ago had you come to accept his insistence on wearing shoes indoors, but you watched him step out of his boots now. Loosening the red tie around his neck before removing it completely.

You waited politely for him to continue in some way. Not wanting to push an explanation for his depleted mood. He removed his rings one by one, dropping them into a glass bowl. That’s where he spoke to. “Today’s been hard. I–“ He stopped himself, unable or unwilling to go on. You wondered if you should press him. You realised keeping things bottled up like he did wasn’t good. But you were scared. Scared it could ruin things. You bit on your bottom lip, hard, stifling yourself.

He turned to you then, a longing in his eyes. You knew that look very well. It was a yearning for you. “I just need some solace.”

You nodded slowly, outstretching your arms for him to meet you. He rounded the corner of the bed in a few, quick strides and dove into you. His mouth finding yours in a deep, intense kiss. You wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders, feeling him squeeze his around your chest, like he needed to make sure you were really there. He spoke no more and that was okay.

His mouth and tongue found your neck, kissing the skin like it could kiss back, until he ceased and held his face in the crook, hugging you tightly. You ran your fingers through his hair, unsure what else you could do. Your chest felt sad and heavy, his mood affecting you immediately. But you needed to be strong. You kissed at whatever part of his face you could reach, your turn to make him feel good. Make him feel loved.

Somehow your lips met again, tongues slipping together, going from slow to fast. His anguish over what was unknown to you, turned into an urge to forget. An urge to bury himself so deep inside you, he’d forget the outside world. If not just for tonight. You would gladly give him that. Give yourself that.

Your hands ran along the tops of his arms, squeezing the muscles as you went, moaning softly when his tongue slipped into your ear, the coolness sending a shiver up your spine. You quickly found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them in equal haste, revealing the expanse of his chest. His hands tugged at the tie of your gown, getting it to fall open and reveal your chest. He cupped your breasts softly, like you would break if he tried any harder and slowly got you onto your back. Your gown slipped open fully, rendering you bare to his eyes, and he let out a sweet sound of awe. He loved your body. Always had. Always would.

You tugged where his shirt tucked into his slacks, and he ripped it from his body, desperate to get as naked as you. It wasn’t long before he was, lying atop your body, staring into your eyes as he caressed your face. His heart was beating a little faster than usual, like it did when he was aroused, yet still not that of a human heart. It never would, but it had become oddly soothing these days.

“Not too cold?” He asked, voice thick with something that had you reaching for him, holding him close.

You smiled. “No. I like it.”

He returned the action, rubbing your noses together affectionately. Your heart swelled in your chest. Fit to burst. You closed your eyes and let yourself sink when his mouth began travelling your body. Your chest rising and falling visibly as he found his way between your legs, making love with his mouth.

In fact, out of the hundreds of times you’d had sex, tonight was the closest you’d ever gotten to such an act. It just felt different. More vulnerable than ever before. Sweeter. It filled your hole body, elevated you. Took you to places you’d never been before.

He pushed inside you slowly, indulging in your velvet warmth, and when he began to thrust it was to a tantric rhythm. Your back arched, your toes curled and all that you felt was warmth. No matter how cold his flesh was, his glow engulfed your body. You wanted it to never stop.

“Tell me you’ll always want me,” he rasped into your ear. Silver and black eyes burning into yours when he pulled back to view you. It was the most defenceless thing he’d ever requested of you. Exposed in the darkness, you shone, giving him the confidence to plead for such a thing.

You held his face tight, voice a hushed whisper, but it didn’t make it any less true. You didn’t know what the future held, nor what would unfold. But you were sure of one thing. There would never be a time when you didn’t want him. You were his, and he was yours.

“Always.”

#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #bts fic #jin fic #fic:club zombie #floralseokjin:writings

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