#if i was good-looking and not fucking otherworldly smooth-brained looking

[strangegirl556]

you float like feather

in a beautiful world

i wish i was special

[plutolovesyou]

sigh, can't stop thinking about riding abby's thigh...mmmm. smutty yap ahead!!

abby's taught muscular thigh, slotted so perfectly in between your legs provided otherworldly pleasure, supplying the most brain-meltingly delicious pressure on your swollen bud, and she didn't even have to put in any effort. when she did put in the effort, let's just say your ability to walk was affected afterwards. ♡

"that's it, doin' so good for me." her strong hands land on the side of your hips to assist you in grinding on her, she's pulling you down forcefully, yet there's still a certain gentleness about her touches. the assuredness of her actions only making you miles wetter.

the rolling of your hips stutters as the sensations in your lower abdomen build, the blissed-out whimpers falling from your lips only increasing in volume, frequency, but most of all, desperation. you find solace in the crook of abby's neck, wrapping shaky arms around her, burying your face in her and taking her soft skin in between your teeth to quiet yourself. that earns a chuckle from her, and her hand snakes up your spine—originating waves of chills to spread throughout your body—and lands at the nape of your neck, where she takes your hair in her palm and pulls. she doesn't pull hard enough to cause pain, but firmly enough to separate you from her and make you look at her, saying through amused wavers of her voice, "nuh-uh, none of that, wanna hear your pretty voice."

and she knows the edge of her tone got to you and flew straight to your pussy, because she feels you clench around nothing and gush against her exposed skin. you resume your movements, they're growing in urgency as the relief approached, evolving from smooth ruts to noisy smacks of your sopping skin against hers while you bounced. you close your eyes and let your head fall back, no longer restricting any noises and allowing them to fill her ears freely. she grins, and watches you in awe, a blush decorating her beautiful features, a sparkle in her periwinkle eyes, and her rosy lips morphing into a wide grin. she mutters more praises and moves to aid you in riding out the high that hit you like a truck, and she commits the ethereal sight of you using her body like this to her memory.

"that's it, keep fucking yourself on me some more, yeah?"

i know two posts like not even 8 hours apart is crazy business but one's high effort (yes im plugging it. read, sillies 🤭) one took three seconds and i WANT THIS OUT MY DRAFTS ALREADY LEMME LIVE I HATE WHEN SHIT MARINATES IN THERE NEED IT GONEEEE

[quandaryqueen]

Signs that the Riddler's are in love

Hmmm, simp hours commencing in 3, 2, 1.

💚 Gotham

GCPD's residential simp Edward Nygma is a man who swoons as subtle as a jackhammer in the middle of construction. He looms over you, too close might I add. Not to mention, 💫 Riddles ™💫and gifts! With 💫Riddles💫

Okok he just doesn't really know how to approach you, he just does does whatever he has seen how his peers move around in the dating game— but dialed down and in his own way. What, do you think he'd pick you up with a vulgar invitation to his bedroom? No! Ok but that still doesn change the fact that some of you Y/N's might be uncomfortable with his attempt to flirt, something that is highly rational and reasonable.

But instead of making fun of him behind his back like say... Kristen and just talking to him, explain to him, make it known to him that you're uncomfortable with his advances and he'll stop. He's a reasonable man with a brain, he'd get it and back tf off.

💚 Young Justice

No, omg this boy can barely keep his composure around you. Like, blushing, stuttering, stammering, smiling like a fool, constant heart eyes around you, SWOONING, SCREAMING IN HIS PILLOW, CREAMING —

Making a move though? Nope! Would die in the spot if he even got within your radius.

But how will he make his love for you known? Well... There were a series of attempts of talking to you, in which he makes a last minute 180 because you know, nerves. Well that doesn't work, letters it is! He'd make the MOST detailed letter there is, spilling his heart out in cursive letters and flowery words. Shakespeare? No, it's just Eddie on a 3 AM spur of simpery.

Eddie being unsure about the letter because fuck. If you reject him, well that's all good cough not really you can just toss it in the trash and you won't know who tf it is. But then if you feel the same... Well what now? How wiyou find him? Oh shit you might think that it's a prank, he doesn't want to hurt you like that. Overthinking did him wrong and then he ended up just tossing it in the trash even if he wrote basically everything.

But then the next day... He wished that he tore and flushed it because someone fucking went through his trash, found it, read it and gave it to you. He fucken died.

💚 Arkhamverse

My, my, what a cheery little lad. Just the sunshine and rainbows of a bright skies and grassy horizons-- yeah no lemme just drop the sarcasm for a sec.

This man, is a bitter man. Pushed everyone away who dares impose his progress and delay his work, it would be an absolute travesty if he were to be distracted for the smallest gaps of seconds.... But he supposes having you around to 'pester' him motivates him that people in Gotham, represented by you, will have their brains turned to mush if he doesn't do anything about it. *Cough* yes, the man is an absolute delight of a tsundere. Crush? No! It's just fondness for the lower end of the IQ count. Well, fondness is quite the word, flexible, but at least you know that he certainly feels something towards you.

He asks for your thoughts on things. Not that he cares! Criticisms? Oh please, there is not a single critic that can ever give him hell, he's a genius! Your criticisms cannot touch him! But he does need to know what you think of this recent prototype—

💚 Batman the animated series

Another simp! But he's not a shy simp like some other Riddler iterations, he is a smooth fucker who shoots his shot in every gaps of opportunity he has, no matter how small it is. Look, I've seen the rehab episode thing where Eddie cannot handle being approached by girls, BUT I believe that him initiating the flirting does not bother him at all. Though if you wanna know, he mostly kept the screaming as internal screaming.

You need that thing on the shelf regardless if you can reach it or not? Ed's got you sweetheart. What's brilliant, beautiful and otherworldly? You, honey 😘. Cold? Here comes his coat with his scent embedded on the fabric! Here's some of your favourite food and flowers! Need to get away with murder? Oh darling, he'd be happy to assist!

Needless to say, he is simp. He is over-the-top head over heels for you, he'd do anything for you. But at some degree, he'd know if you're abusing his love for you and will promptly call it out and stop it. So no, don't take advantage of it for your own benefit if you're not willing to do the same thing for him.

The person he lays his eyes on is in a constant observation, not in a stalker way by the way, he just loves making an analysis out of you and how much of a lovely person you are. He can get attached to certain things and that certain thing is you being your usual self. And he really does mean the affections for you.

So if you return his love well... He might just outsmile the Joker himself.

💚 Harley Quinn

"You know Y/N, you're the only one I tolerate in this goddamn city."

He keeps you close at most, away from harm's way and certainly provides extra protection from fellow rogue's who intends to fuck him over and hold you hostage. Because God, he'd be fucking torn if something were to happen to you because of him. You're the only one that keeps him somewhat stable in this damned city and someone who can understand him.

You really do mean to him and will do everything to keep you safe. For most of the time he is so done with the place, some idiots can be surprisingly surpass what he thought the maximum level of dumbassery, but at least he has someone who can understand him and help him through the times of frustration. No one can really solve his riddles the same way back in ye olde days, but oh well, at least he has you.

So, you're noticeably the only person who he talks to with a more calm, more casual and laid-back manner.

💚 The War of Jokes and Riddles

Silent sideline glances with a small smile lighting his lithe features. If anything, he plays it the coolest among the Riddlers. No pressure, he's just as cool as ever. Smooth as fuck that you'll be caught off-guard when what you thought was a riddle turned out to be a pick-up line. Not to mention, his constant compliments.

Then all of the sudden, he'd be more straightforward once he piques your interest and after he's tested the waters. Of course he wanted to see whether you were uncomfortable with his advances and that he'd gladly stop them. Straightforward is his way to go and he's confident about himself and what he truly feels about you.

He likes you. Your spirit, your brilliance, your beauty, everything. And how compatible you are with him, how equal you are.

[thinking-about-writing-mm]

Chapter 6

Title: Those Evil Ways

Pairing: OT7 x Y/N (female reader)

Genre: supernatural au, medical, fluff, angst, smut, war

Word count: 4 050 ~

Characters: (Demons!BTS) Namjoon/Corson, Jin/Agares, Yoongi/Baal, Hoseok/Alastor, Jimin/Aamon, Jungkook/Mammon, Taehyung/Gaap, human reader (with special abilities later in the story)

Warnings: inappropriate touches, mentions of war tactics, cursing, making out (lots of), marking (biting, hickeys), licking, alcohol consumption (nothing serious), sensory play - blindfolding, angst, mentions of possessive JK – if I have missed something please send a pigeon 😅❤️

Summary: Y/N is a third year medical student going through life like others do. On one unfortunate night she gets in unexpected contact with otherworldly beings who drag her into their world of violence, war and fight for power.

Author’s notes: AN IMPORT NOTE: TAGLIST OPENED (hit me up if you wanna be tagged). To all of you who read this - thank you ❤️ I know it’s been a while but it’s been hectic at the university and now my exam session is coming… It’s a bit short but for obvious reasons. Enjoy 😊

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"Do you think they will be back soon?" Hoseok turned to Namjoon. He had this nasty feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah. Kook is not an idiot."

Seconds later Y/N appeared walking closely to Mammon. Hours had passed since the beginning of the feast and the demons were getting pretty rowdy. The young woman looked around the hall - the guests were laughing, shouting and drinking. Some of them were playing card games on one of the tables and others were dancing. No one had noticed their absence and she was relieved.

"Wanna move it to the backroom?" Corson asked while making the whiskey in his glass swirl around.

"Sure. We always do" Hoseok laughed and smoothed his clothes. "Shall we?"

"Where are we going?" Jimin's soft voice came from behind.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and then her cheeks and ears flushed red. The encounter from earlier and his words made her self-conscious. The silver-haired man didn't seem one bit bothered though. His easy-going behavior was back and he appeared relaxed.

"We're going to the backroom. Wanna call the General?" Jungkook glanced at the table he was sitting at. Gaap was talking to two other men and smiling.

"Sure. You go first, we will join you in a while."

With that everyone stood up. Y/N was in the dark completely - should she go with them or stay here, maybe she could find Jin and Yoongi.

Then Hoseok's voice tore her out of those thoughts. "Come on pretty girl, we're leaving." She jumped to her feet and hurried after the three demons. It was easy when others were making the decisions. In the hospital it was not exactly like that - she was supposed to be the leading force and instruct the nurses and the assistants how to proceed with an intervention. This newly created situation was an alternative that was half-good, half-bad.

They passed through a silvery gray metal door with four locks on it. The mechanism appeared to be complicated and hard to crack. Namjoon smiled cockily while looking at Y/N's curious eyes. "Yes. It's close to impossible to open this baby here." He answered her unspoken question. "Of course if there is a lock it's bound to be unlocked one way or another but let's say that no one can force their way in." Another riddle.

The interior of the backroom resembled the rest of the palace - dark walls, wooden furniture, soft black carpet. The student was the last to enter. For some reason the four half-naked women (to be precise four succubuses) standing straight in the far end didn't faze her at all. The girl laughed to herself, she was beginning to get fucked up in the brain just as the rest. What a joke…

"What is it, pretty girl? Do you find our ways of having a good time funny?" The way Alastor said that sounded menacing though irony was added intentionally to the question.

Y/N raised her hands in defense. "I-I… no. I was just thinking of my own things" the explanation was weak but still true.

"Care to share with the group?" The King teased. Jungkook and Namjoon turned around to see what was happening but then Jimin entered with Taehyung by his side. Saved.

"I hope we're not late" The General greeted the Kings with a small bow.

Jungkook clicked his tongue and tilted his head to the side. "Here there's no need for that. Or it's been too much time since our last gathering that you've forgotten?"

"Truly it's been too long," Jimin agreed while sizing Y/N up and down. The action was discreet by itself but he hoped to be seen by her. Unfortunately for the King of the South the girl's attention was occupied by Gaap.

Questionable. Very…

"Shall we sit?" Mammon urged them while taking Y/N by the hand and almost dragging her over to the settees.

With the passing of time Y/N was getting more and more sleepy. At first the conversation was interesting to her and she was paying attention. They were talking politics and governmental intrigues, then war tactics, then… Taehyung was on a winning streak advising the four men and joking around when appropriate.

Jimin was mostly quiet since his expertise was "internal affairs". He was also more interested in the spying and covert operations than the head-on action.

"Princess?" Corson's deep voice reached the young woman's dazed mind. "Bored?" She looked up through hooded eyes shaking her head absentmindedly. That made the demon smile. "Kook…" he whispered and directed the other’s attention to Y/N.

Mammon had completely forgotten about his companion leaning on his shoulder. The room got quiet and five pairs of eyes landed on the half-asleep woman. Jungkook's tattooed hand reached up and caressed Y/N's left cheek. She leaned into the touch. The demons almost cooed at the sight. Their desire to be in the place of the King of the North became close to unbearable.

“Hey! Cut the shit.” Namjoon warned them even though he was guilty too.

"Want me to take you to sleep?" Mammon whispered in her ear not paying attention to the rest. Y/N moaned softly in agreement.

"Please… I'm so tired."

Alastor chuckled. So soft and warm… also pitiful. He was happy to be born a demon. Humans were so weak. This thought swam in the demon’s heads far too often.

"Okay but on one condition." Her mind began coming back to life. What?

"Condition… What condition? Why should I do anything to deserve to go to sleep?" Her mumbling made the rest of the men laugh quietly. "I'm… I'm not a demon. I can't. It's been…"

"Only seven hours Y/N" Jungkook made the calculations instead of her. "We go on for days."

"I can't," the girl whined and grabbed his cloak. Cute.

"Here's the condition. Ready to listen, princess?"

"Just tell me."

The mischievous look that Jungkook gave to the rest got the fire burning inside of the demons. Their minds spun into different directions - was he going to let them touch her, play for a while, tell someone to go put her to bed, join her there? Many options but no one got it right…

“Here’s the deal - I will put a blindfold on your eyes.” She opened her mouth to protest but Mammon shushed her with a click of his tongue. “Then each one of us will come and give you a good night kiss and if you manage to guess who gave you the kiss correctly then I will escort you to the bedroom.” The man lifted his pierced brow and smiled dangerously.

“What happens if I don’t?” This was the biggest problem for her now. What then?

“Then you will have to entertain us for the rest of the night. The gentlemen here will give you orders and request something from you and as the good princess you are - you will do it.” The excited gasp that followed came from Hoseok’s mouth but Jungkook glared at him. “Of course the wishes are going to have some limitations and restrictions.”

“What the hell?” Y/N exclaimed in displeasure.

“That’s the deal” the King finished and waved at one of the servants. She brought him a black silky blindfold. He took it and waited for the young woman to come to a decision. With a defeated sigh Y/N raised her hands in the air.

“Whatever. Just do it fast so it can be over sooner.”

Jungkook smiled and tied the piece of cloth securely on the back of her head.

“You’re so pretty Y/N” Noir purred from the far end of the room.

She lost sense of direction and space.

“Princess, you ready?” Jimin’s soft voice came from the back. The girl whipped her head in that direction. Then the other when the sound of footsteps on the carpet distracted her.

“Let’s get this over with” Y/N gritted her teeth and straightened on the sofa, completely awake now.

There was a bit of rustling and she sensed a presence. One of them was leaning over her. The girl turned her head a bit to the side expecting a kiss on the cheek but… a disappointed grunt echoed through the room but it came from further away. The man standing in front of the student grabbed her by the jaw and turned her head towards him. It was a disapproving gesture.

The fingers were long and the hand was strong. Definitely not Jimin. Not Taehyung either - his slim fingers had a different feeling about them. She remembered this from when they were sparring.

The next thing she knew - the man’s lips crashed into hers with an unimaginable force. It was a demanding kiss, he was expecting to be honored and be given what was his. No piercings on the lip. Not Jungkook. It didn’t last long and once whoever was in front of the woman was satisfied he broke it off with a deep sigh.

When the man separated from her she felt flustered to the marrow of her bones.

“Good girls say good night to the people” Mammon’s voice was heard from behind.

“Good night” Y/N whimpered. Who was this?

Before even having the chance to think about it the cushions next to the girl sunk. Trying to see through the blindfold she immediately faced him. No luck with that… The demon ran the tips of his fingers over Y/N’s mouth and then began licking up her neck. In the process the man devouring her was inhaling deeply, engraving the young woman's smell in his mind.

That was… not-

"M-my King" she whispered breathlessly "this is not… not fair. I can't…"

He continued, absolutely unbothered by the comment. The sensitive skin on her shoulder and neck was feeling prickly and on fire. When the demon was satisfied he kissed Y/N on the cheek then bit her lip unexpectedly and strongly. She moaned into his mouth not sure if she wanted more or not.

She felt like a prey surrounded by blood-thirsty predators. Dreaded feeling. As soon as he initiated the contact it disappeared just as fast. The young woman's mind was working overtime and close to short-circuiting.

"Good night."

Three more to go…

"Jin." Yoongi approached the tall demon. He appeared to be having the time of his life, laughing, shouting and downing glass after glass with some other demons while leaning on the chest of a blonde woman.

Agares lazily lifted his head up to look at his subordinate. "Yes? Is something the matter?"

Baal was seeing something different in Jin now. The lack of contact with Y/N was making the demon behave as his former self. The question was why Yoongi was not turning back to his old ways. Maybe the deeper the connection the more long-lasting the aftereffect? He was not sure.

The mint-haired demon motioned for the sitting one to come over and talk privately. The latter one seemed annoyed but complied either way. The kiss he shared with the woman on his lap made Yoongi's stomach turn. Not good.

"Y/N is gone" he whispered once they got away from the commotion.

"So?" Agares shrugged. "She's probably with those Kings-wanna-be-s. Leave her be. Have some fun" he patted the shorter demon's shoulder in a belittling manner. Yoongi swatted it away.

"What the hell Jin?" Quiet growl escaped Baal’s pretty lips and his eyes narrowed.

“Do you think we can do something?!” The Master whispered back angrily, the attitude changing in a split second.

“It’s not like you’re trying.” This bitter accusation made Jin bark a laughter.

“You told me to keep my mind off of her. I’m just doing me so no one gets suspicious. You should do the same.” Agares turned and walked back to his table.

Yoongi didn’t waste any time and putting on his best blank expression mixed with the crowd.

…

Y/N was all shivery on the couch in the back room. The man that got to her next ravaged her, bruised the girl’s lips and made them swollen and pink, completely smearing the rest of the lipstick. Then he made sure that purple hickeys would bloom on her chest and shoulders. She wondered if Mammon was okay with her being marked by someone else like that. Up until now he appeared to be the jealous and possessive type along with being caring and considerate in his own way.

At that exact moment another pair of hands grabbed Y/N for the shoulders and a low growl followed suit. That was a sign for the demon not to go overboard.

She felt his slim figure pressing one final time into hers and with a final lick on Y/N’s neck the demon left. But she felt it. The thing that got him away… or at least the girl believed so.

The room was so quiet and even the footsteps on the carpeted floor were barely audible.

The next person came from behind and pulled her towards the headrest. The unexpected move made Y/N flinch. Choir of low laughter filled the room. She was so enticing…

A hand in her hair made the young woman's head tilt back. Gasping Y/N didn't expect to get into contact with another pair of lips in a searing spider-man-like kiss. Fluffy, pillow-like soft lips. Easy. Didn't expect him to go for that though. She smiled while their tongues were dancing. At that moment he stopped. It was a questioning action, the man was trying not to ask what is so funny. Why was that woman laughing?

"It's just…" she purred "I can recognize you anywhere. King Aamon." Y/N felt the power bubbling inside, the confidence. "Even if you bend a 180 degrees, cover your hands with steel or be silent for the whole night I can still recognize you." Quiet grunts came from all sides. The others were offered, especially Jungkook. No more touches followed. It was quiet for a few minutes. "Good night, Jimin" Y/N grinned triumphantly and closed her eyes under the blindfold.

The last demon that came to say bye peppered her face with feather-like kisses but never got to her lips. He was holding back and the young woman could feel it. The lack of contact made her needy and impatient. Her body moved on its own and lifted up in order to get closer but then it was over.

Who the hell was that? Since when were those filthy creatures holding back and being modest and considerate?

"Good night to you too. Whoever you are…" she huffed in displeasure.

With one pull the blindfold came undone and slipped down the girl's face. The five of them were standing tall in front of her, some smiling, some serious, but all of them waiting for the answer Y/N had to give.

"Let me just say that even though I haven't had much of a close contact with all of you I can read people well." That made Noir smirk. She was a smooth talker and a mediator, trying to play it safe. "I'm almost a hundred percent sure that my guesses are right even though I was confused at some point" her gaze fell on Jungkook's chiseled face. His lip rings were still in their respective places.

"So… the first one was King Corson. The next" she remembered the feverish feeling, the hotness consuming every cell of her body. "The King of the North . I wasn’t sure for a while to be honest.” She said the last part with a smile. “Also I was expecting to feel your piercing but I guess you took it off.” Mammon laughed.

“Smart cookies don’t get fooled by those on-the-nose things.”

Instead of staying seated, the girl got up and walked up to Mammon, maintaining equally self-assured eye contact. Reaching up she ran her thumb over Jungkook's lower lip, over the piercing. "You might have taken off those pretty rings but I know how you taste" the whisper got everyone in the room on edge. Jungkook gritted his teeth.

"You're such a tease, princess. Thread carefully and don't provoke me" the dangling earrings chimed when the demon bent down menacingly. Y/N just gave him a 24 carat smile and faced to the left.

“Moving on. Next was Alastor. Your tongue gave you away.”

"My tongue. You have such a knack for the details" Hoseok chuckled and his eyes began shining brighter.

"It's kind of hard not to notice it. Especially when it's like that of a snake and you don't keep it inside your mouth - licking your fork in such a filthy way, running it over your lips while looking at the harem girls…" Y/N could play the games too and probably as well as them. "Then came King Aamon. I guess I ruined your fun but I couldn't stop myself."

Jimin tilted his head to the side in a fake confusion and his full lips formed a pout. "Oooh… sweetness. You think you've ruined something? You have no idea what's coming."

Pretending not to notice his remark Y/N faced Taehyung.

"Anyways. The next one - the General. It was almost as easy as getting right the beloved King of the South. You were trying to stay away so I couldn't feel the plates, you didn't touch me also, which meant that you believe that I can recognize you easily by the shape of your hands…"

The man looked at each other displeased. Alastor clicked his tongue. "I was hoping to have some more fun tonight."

"Kookie is mean for setting this rule," Jimin went on. "She should stay with us some more. It's fun to play with this little one" his hooded eyes were roaming Y/N's figure. He separated from the group and took his glass from the table.

Taehyung in comparison to the rest seemed calm and collected, keeping quiet, but she could see the fiery color his irises had become. He almost regretted not tasting her rosy bruised lips but he was a gentleman well-thought… or at least in this case. He wanted to give her more than to take something for himself. So unlike him.

"Gaap?" Namjoon called.

"Yes?" Getting out of his daydream the demon faced his brothers.

"Should we move on to the usual?" The ruler of the West offered.

The General nodded. "Why not?"

…

The walk to her bedroom was long but Mammon kept on talking so Y/N kept her focus on the man next to her.

"You're something extraordinary" he stated at some point. The girl gave him a questioning look. "You manage to keep all eyes on you, everyone listens to what you say, all of your actions make the spectators intrigued - everyone will love your rule if you decide to sit on the throne next to me." Straight to the point. "Maybe your demon power will really be connected to the speech. This will be fascinating." Y/N rolled her eyes at the man.

"Quit it. I'm not going to be a demon - I'm human and also I don't want to be a queen or whatever" she waved a hand dismissively. Jungkook frowned upon hearing that. She was rejecting all of that so easily. "I want to go home…"

"Y/N you're bound to stay here. The potential you have, the opportunity to become a great and fierce ruler…Don’t waste it. You can’t." Mammon was getting all excited just thinking about it. He wanted to be the one that was going to sit next to the young woman when that happened.

"Jungkook," she sighed, "you're getting ahead of yourself. I'm not made for this world. I don't know my ways around here. Do you know how hard it is to constantly be kept under supervision, be accompanied by guards with no alone-time? I need space, I want to feel safe." The girl stopped in the middle of the hallway and looked the tall man straight in the eyes. "I need to feel safe." She repeated with sorrow.

"But you can stay, I can give you the world. Once you learn how move around safely and avoid danger-"

Y/N cut the man off mid-sentence. "No. I don't want to. I want to go back" this was the last straw for the King. To him it felt like arguing with a child. The woman was repeating one and the same thing, keeping at it. Affected by his annoyance the King couldn’t see that he was doing exactly the same. He was almost spitting fire when he began to speak.

“Foolish creature! You will come around sooner or later and when that happens…” he slashed the air with his hand “you will come to me! Remember my words!”

“We will see about that” Y/N seethed. With an angry strut she walked past the demon, her heels hitting the tiles forcefully.

…

Agares was finishing another bottle of liquor with his fellow demons.

“Have you seen Asmodeus?” One of the ministers, sitting on Jin’s left side, asked.

“Last I heard he was sent on a secret scouting mission in Lux Terra. They’ve been up to something recently.” The other - Taxx - explained. “There’s nothing bright and lucid about this rotten place.”

Jin nodded solemnly then decided to give his input. “The queen is training more and more spies. Women to be precise.” The two ministers hummed. They knew this was happening but didn’t know how fast or why. The people of Lux Terra never participated in the disputes between the countries or took part in the wars. Why now?

“Why though?” The bearded man on the left asked.

Agares placed a hand on his chin deep in thought. “I think she got some predictions about the future and is preparing for a huge hit. Do you know the spies are actually former prostitutes?”

The other two got wide-eyed. “Yes. Since they’re cunning, sly and able to get any information out of the clients without any trouble the queen decided to take them in and educate them, then train the spies in combat. Then send the women to other countries and gather intelligence.”

“Nasty witch” Taxx was rumbling.

“Yes” Jin agreed. “Imagine if we can’t trust any women to take into the harems. What the fuck?” The demon huffed but then smiled at them looking pleased. “That’s why I got a special lady to keep me company.”

No.

“Oh really?” The bearded one seemed interested. “Where did you get her from?”

“She comes from far away. Exotic place. This girl is something else.”

Hell no.

A picture of Y/N began surfacing in Agares’ mind. Memories of what happened between them drowned every other thought. Jin was losing grip of his composure. It was a matter of time before someone caught up…

He lifted up his gaze when a hand gripped his shoulder tightly with a crushing force.

“Excuse my intrusion ministers but I need Agares over there for a while” Yoongi was standing behind the jolly trio. The minty-haired demon dragged his master away.

They exited the ballroom and moved to one of the further hallways.

“Jin.” Yoongi hissed through his teeth. “You’re losing it. You’re putting us in danger. Your mind is littered with Y/N’s face. What if someone finds out about her?! We’re done for!” The situation was getting more and more out of hand.

“I wasn’t going to say or show anything! Also I’m not answering to you as far as I remember. It’s the other way around.” Agares countered. Both of them were trying to keep their heads clean while having this ridiculous argument.

“Yeah, sure. I saw your thoughts. I heard them.”

“So what? I can’t make others go crazy with jealousy and greed?”

“No! Not here with so many people around.” Baal ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “The four of them are keeping close tabs on us. One slip and she will be taken away. Used. Do you want to be devoid of the leverage we have?”

The tall demon rolled his eyes.

“No one can know about this girl.”

“Know what?” A mocking voice came from the shadows down the hall.

Chapter 5.1 / Chapter 7

Masterlist

[thatharringrovehoe]

So I've been playing Dishonored which is my favorite game and this popped into my head so now you all have to suffer with me. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

He's so fucking cold. Like he’s been plunged into a lake mid winter and can’t find his way to the surface. Hands shaking, Billy sifts clumsily through the box of his mother’s things he keeps hidden in the back of his closet. He's found that if he thinks about the good times, picnics at the beach under the California sun, the thing oozing it's way though his brain losses just a bit of it's grip. Leaves Billy with enough motor function to stumble around his bedroom, trying to find the right pieces. And fucking hell it’s been so long since he's done this. He can remember helping his Ma when he was little, chubby fingers clenched tight in her cotton sundress as she arranged the items on the table just right. Pricked her finger to draw sigils in a language long forgotten, her voice a soft cadence through the bedroom as she hummed Billy’s favorite lullaby. No words, just a beautiful mournful thing. Humming a song of grieving loss. Billy doesn't know why he likes it so much.

“Remember baby. When you offer your gifts they have to be special. Well loved. Something that brings you joy every time you use it.”

His mother kept a pair of earrings on the cloth covered table. She never wore them when his father was home. Took them out and put them back on the little rickety stand in the back of her closet every day before he came back from work. Dangling silver daggers with the onyx beads. Billy shoved one straight through his left earlobe when he turned fifteen and has barely taken it out since.

His Ma told him that everything he built his shrine with had to mean something. Had to be something he treasured. From the fabric to the stand itself. So Billy tried his best. Draped his best leather jacket over the milk crate that held all of his favorite hair products. Placed his Ma's Fleetwood Mac album next to one of his mother's silver earrings (the one he always wears), arranged as neatly as he can manage. He’d had to prick his thumb seven times because to his dawning horror it kept healing over. Just another tally mark towards something being really fucking wrong. And he remembers the warehouse. Can still feel the slimy caustic sludge being pumped down his throat by a fucking tentacle. But he’d hoped it had been a dream, a nightmare from reading to many Lovecraft novels. Billy curses as he slices open his thumb for what feels like the millionth time.

Apparently not.

He's drawn the characters just how he remembers. His mother had made him practice every day, showing him each and every shape and line, drawn in colorful crayon. She gave him a cookie every time he got them right. Never hung them up on the fridge though. Didn't want his father to see.

He can feel the shadow creeping through his blood, dragging it’s claws against his veins. It might not know exactly what he’s doing yet, but it must be able to feel the intention. Billy thinks of ocean waves and a soft hand running through his curls. Fights the pull at the back of his mind to just give in. To sleep. His hands shake harder.

Fuck, where is it?! Billy combs through records and trinkets, a bottle of her perfume. He’s desperately hoping it didn't get lost in the move because his mother never taught him how to make one. Hell, he's pretty certain that he wouldn't be able to find the pieces he needs in Hawkins anyway. Not like Melvalds has a supernatural voodoo isle.

Then finally, finally he finds it. Lifting up his mother’s satin scarf it comes tumbling out to land on the floor with a clatter. Bleached white and beaten smooth by the waves, it's about the size of a sand dollar. Billy picks it up, places it in the palm of his hand. He still remembers the day he found it out on the shore. Washed up between some sea glass, the leather bindings still somehow soft even soaked with salt water. Etched with symbols and shapes Billy will never understand. When Billy showed it to his mother an unreadable expression crossed her face. It was that evening she showed him her shrine.

The rune seems to hum against his skin, an otherworldly song from far away ghosting past his ears. The thing that’s trying to Shanghai Billy’s brain writhes. It's angry, but more than that it’s fucking terrified and Billy has never been more sure of anything in his life. This was a good idea. But his limbs are getting colder, heavier. Whatever this evil piece of shit is it doesn’t like what Billy’s doing. He has to fight against the deadening of his limbs, crawling towards his shitty attempt at a shrine from his place on the floor. His vision is starting to grow dark when he finally clutches on to the milk crate, placing the rune between the earring and his cassette tape. And he knows that there's no guarantee. That whatever his Ma prayed to every night never shielded her from Neil’s fists, didn’t do a damn thing as the cancer slowly drained her down to nothing. That sometimes (most times) when someone would call out to the void the only thing they heard in return was their own disappointment. But he's got no other options. This is his trump card. His last resort. If this hocus pocus bullshit doesn’t work then Billy is up shit creek without a paddle. With a frustrated shout against the nightmare pulling him in, Billy begs.

“Please! Fuck, help me! I'll do anything, c’mon just- please!”

The air in Billy’s bedroom all of a sudden seems to shudder. The shadows flicker and meld together, reaching outwards. The sound of dry fall leaves blowing in the wind, a wail of a thousand dying worlds ricochets off the walls. Then nothing. Billy scrunches his eyes shut against the sting of tears. Fuck, of course it didn’t work. Story of his life. He called for help and just like always it doesn't mean shit. No one is coming to save him.

“Well well well. Certainly been a long time since someone summoned me like that. Very old school.”

Billy’s eyes snap open, the surprise and adrenaline enough to fight the heaving weight of his limbs to raise his head. And there, perched on his shitty milk crate shrine, sits the most beautiful boy he's ever seen. He's got hair the color of soil after it rains. High cheekbones and full lips, milky white skin dotted with a constellation of beauty marks. Billy didn't know what he expected but it certainly wasn't this. The boy god is dressed in a swanky leather coat the color of charcoal with pants to match. Eyes like an oil spill, inky black and endless. With a good look at Billy, they narrow dangerously.

“I thought I fucking told you not to touch this world. You want a repeat of last time?”

Whatever deity he summoned looks pissed as hell. Did he not do it right? Maybe the items weren’t good enough. That would be just his luck. He's so confused he almost doesn’t notice it right away. The shadow slowly working it’s way through his body has stopped, retreated a little even.

“I-... I don't know what you’re talking about. Please, there's something wrong with me. Something got put inside of me and I need it out. Please, help me.”

Billy hasn’t begged since his Ma was takin her last breath in that damn hospice bed. Didn't see the point when it always got you nowhere. But now he can't make himself stop. Cuz he's never been this scared before. The things this monster inside him wants him to do. It's so strong, like he’s fighting a steam roller. He's got no hope on his own.

The boy sitting on his best leather jacket stills. Cocks his head to the side slightly, considering. Then those pretty pink lips are spreading out into a gleeful smirk. Slides off the shrine to settle on his knees in front of Billy. Reaches out his hand to cup Billy’s jaw gentle enough it makes him want to cry.

“You can't get a good enough hold of this one can you? Interesting. Tell me trouble maker, what's your name?”

That voice, deep and ethereal, seems to echo from all around him. He can feel it vibrate in his bones. He wants, no, needs to answer.

“Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

The boy smiles now, all gleaming pearly whites. If Billy looks long enough reality starts to flicker. And for just a second all he can see is teeth sharp like knives in a Cheshire grin. There for a moment and gone in a flash. The hand on his jaw tightens just the slightest fraction.

“Well Billy Hargrove. You seem to find yourself in quite the predicament. That parasite sucking on your soul is an old acquaintance of mine. He's one nasty little shit.”

If a brain washing shadow monster could feel indignant he’s pretty sure that’s what's happening now. Whatever was hijacking Billy's mind has curled up somewhere tight, sunk it’s teeth in deep. Cornered like a threatened animal.

“Please, I’ll do anything you want. I can’t… I can’t fight it. It's too much.”

There’s enough tears leakin down his face that it's soaking the front of his shirt. The boy is giving him this look, almost amused. The longer he holds Billy’s jaw the more the monster losses his grip, and Billy is ready to do anything at this point. Because that thing stuck to his brain wants him to find people. Feed it people. Wants Billy to drink all the chemicals in the supply shed at the pool. Told Billy that if he tried to fight it would take Max first and he can't let that happen.

The boy seems to come to a decision, grabs Billy’s hands to help him shakily to this feet. He doesn’t let go even when they’re both standing.

“You know there’s not many who can fight his hold for this long. I'm impressed.”

He steps forward until his chest is practically pressed up against Billy's. He smells like ozone and smoke, bottomless black eyes trained on stormy blue. Reaches up to tangle his fingers into Billy’s curls, sending tingles across his scalp. Smiles wider at the small noise that escapes Billy's throat.

“I'll help you Billy Hargrove. But in return, you have to do something for me.”

Billy's nodding before he can even really register what’s being said. Anything. He'd do whatever this pretty boy asked as long as he keeps touching Billy like this. Gentle, with a reverence no one has ever bothered to show.

“I need you to kick this little shit back into the hole he crawled out of. Can you do that for me Billy? I wanna see how your story pans out trouble maker. Wanna see what you do when someone gives you a chance.”

Billy nods again, breathless. The boy chuckles, the sound saccharine. Like warm honey dripping down his spine.

“Gunna have to use your words baby.”

Billy swallows, the click of his dry throat loud in the warm personal bubble they’ve created.

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll do it. Whatever you want pretty boy, please.”

It comes out a whisper but the boy hears it all the same. The boy smiles bright, pulls Billy forward. Soft warm lips press against his own and Billy is floating. He's never been kissed like this before. Slow and deep, the boy's tongue pressing in to curl and slide. Stuff him full. Billy's shaking for a whole other reason now. Reaches out to grip the boy's coat, cool to the touch where Billy is burning. Fire rushing through his veins, and he's already so close just from this. Whimpers brokenly into the kiss.

The boy pulls him in impossibly closer, slots his thigh between Billy’s legs, pushes up up up. And Billy is right fucking there, grinds down as he swaps spit with an old god in his shitty bedroom with the peeling yellow paint and the door that locks from the outside. Can feel the tell tale tingle spreading behind his navel.

“ ‘m gunna cum! Fuck, more please!” Billy mumbles curses into the kiss, breath hitching as his balls draw tight. The boy smiles against his mouth, yanks his curls back to bite into the meat of his neck and Billy’s gone, pulsing rope after rope of cum into his underwear.

“Oh my- .. Fuuuuuck. Yes! Uhhhnn!” He's panting like a dog as he slumps forward into the boys shoulder. Gentle fingers card through his hair as aftershocks zap up and down his body. A kiss is pressed behind his ear, a soft warmth flooding his core. He can't feel the shadow anywhere.

“So good for me sweet thing. Makes me want to keep you.”

It's said so quiet, like the boy doesn’t intend for it to be heard. Billy presses his face into his neck. There's no heartbeat under the boy's skin.

“You could. I want you to.” Whoever this is, whatever he is, he came for Billy. Answered his literal cry for help when no one else did. He doesn't know what he has to offer but he wants to give this impossible boy everything.

The boy in question hums. Brings Billy's left hand up to kiss the back of it. His skin feels hot under his lips, bordering on uncomfortable. Like stepping on sun scorched pavement. When the boy pulls back there’s a tattoo on his hand. A strange design that looks vaguely like a compass. It's the same mark as the one on the middle of the rune sitting behind them.

“I haven't given my mark to someone quite so special in a while. Try not to disappoint me Billy Hargrove.”

The boy goes to pull away but Billy still has his hand clenched tight on his coat. Panic wells up in his chest. Doesn't want to end whatever this is quite yet.

“Wait! What’s-…what's your name?” Which is a valid question he thinks. And probably one he should have asked at some point before he started grinding his dick on the guys leg. Oh well.

“I've had many names, none if which would hold any significance for you. Call me what you want trouble maker. I'll be there when you need me.”

Billy believes him. Then between one blink and the next the boy is gone, tendrils of dissipating smoke the only evidence he was ever there. A deep voice whispers from nowhere and everywhere.

“Ask your sister about the monsters in the woods.”

On the shrine the only thing that remains is the rune, both his gifts having apparently been accepted. Billy gives a hysterical bark of laughter at the thought of some higher being listening to Fleetwood Mac somewhere out in the void. It gives him an idea. He drags his lips across the fresh mark on his hand, mumbles into his skin.

“Thanks Stevie.”

[whatyougetisme]

Those Evil Ways

Chapter 6

Title: Those Evil Ways

Pairing: OT7 x Y/N (female reader)

Genre: supernatural au, medical, fluff, angst, smut, war

Word count: 4 050 ~

Characters: (Demons!BTS) Namjoon/Corson, Jin/Agares, Yoongi/Baal, Hoseok/Alastor, Jimin/Aamon, Jungkook/Mammon, Taehyung/Gaap, human reader (with special abilities later in the story)

Warnings: inappropriate touches, mentions of war tactics, cursing, making out (lots of), marking (biting, hickeys), licking, alcohol consumption (nothing serious), sensory play - blindfolding, angst, mentions of possessive JK -- if I have missed something please send a pigeon 😅❤️

Summary: Y/N is a third year medical student going through life like others do. On one unfortunate night she gets in unexpected contact with otherworldly beings who drag her into their world of violence, war and fight for power.

Author's notes: AN IMPORT NOTE: TAGLIST OPENED (hit me up if you wanna be tagged). To all of you who read this - thank you ❤️ I know it’s been a while but it’s been hectic at the university and now my exam session is coming… It’s a bit short but for obvious reasons. Enjoy 😊

“Do you think they will be back soon?" Hoseok turned to Namjoon. He had this nasty feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah. Kook is not an idiot."

Seconds later Y/N appeared walking closely to Mammon. Hours had passed since the beginning of the feast and the demons were getting pretty rowdy. The young woman looked around the hall - the guests were laughing, shouting and drinking. Some of them were playing card games on one of the tables and others were dancing. No one had noticed their absence and she was relieved.

"Wanna move it to the backroom?" Corson asked while making the whiskey in his glass swirl around.

"Sure. We always do" Hoseok laughed and smoothed his clothes. "Shall we?"

"Where are we going?" Jimin's soft voice came from behind.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and then her cheeks and ears flushed red. The encounter from earlier and his words made her self-conscious. The silver-haired man didn't seem one bit bothered though. His easy-going behavior was back and he appeared relaxed.

"We're going to the backroom. Wanna call the General?" Jungkook glanced at the table he was sitting at. Gaap was talking to two other men and smiling.

"Sure. You go first, we will join you in a while."

With that everyone stood up. Y/N was in the dark completely - should she go with them or stay here, maybe she could find Jin and Yoongi.

Then Hoseok's voice tore her out of those thoughts. "Come on pretty girl, we're leaving." She jumped to her feet and hurried after the three demons. It was easy when others were making the decisions. In the hospital it was not exactly like that - she was supposed to be the leading force and instruct the nurses and the assistants how to proceed with an intervention. This newly created situation was an alternative that was half-good, half-bad.

They passed through a silvery gray metal door with four locks on it. The mechanism appeared to be complicated and hard to crack. Namjoon smiled cockily while looking at Y/N's curious eyes. "Yes. It's close to impossible to open this baby here." He answered her unspoken question. "Of course if there is a lock it's bound to be unlocked one way or another but let's say that no one can force their way in." Another riddle.

The interior of the backroom resembled the rest of the palace - dark walls, wooden furniture, soft black carpet. The student was the last to enter. For some reason the four half-naked women (to be precise four succubuses) standing straight in the far end didn't faze her at all. The girl laughed to herself, she was beginning to get fucked up in the brain just as the rest. What a joke…

"What is it, pretty girl? Do you find our ways of having a good time funny?" The way Alastor said that sounded menacing though irony was added intentionally to the question.

Y/N raised her hands in defense. "I-I… no. I was just thinking of my own things" the explanation was weak but still true.

"Care to share with the group?" The King teased. Jungkook and Namjoon turned around to see what was happening but then Jimin entered with Taehyung by his side. Saved.

"I hope we're not late" The General greeted the Kings with a small bow.

Jungkook clicked his tongue and tilted his head to the side. "Here there's no need for that. Or it's been too much time since our last gathering that you've forgotten?"

"Truly it's been too long," Jimin agreed while sizing Y/N up and down. The action was discreet by itself but he hoped to be seen by her. Unfortunately for the King of the South the girl's attention was occupied by Gaap.

Questionable. Very…

"Shall we sit?" Mammon urged them while taking Y/N by the hand and almost dragging her over to the settees.

With the passing of time Y/N was getting more and more sleepy. At first the conversation was interesting to her and she was paying attention. They were talking politics and governmental intrigues, then war tactics, then… Taehyung was on a winning streak advising the four men and joking around when appropriate.

Jimin was mostly quiet since his expertise was "internal affairs". He was also more interested in the spying and covert operations than the head-on action.

"Princess?" Corson's deep voice reached the young woman's dazed mind. "Bored?" She looked up through hooded eyes shaking her head absentmindedly. That made the demon smile. "Kook…" he whispered and directed the other’s attention to Y/N.

Mammon had completely forgotten about his companion leaning on his shoulder. The room got quiet and five pairs of eyes landed on the half-asleep woman. Jungkook's tattooed hand reached up and caressed Y/N's left cheek. She leaned into the touch. The demons almost cooed at the sight. Their desire to be in the place of the King of the North became close to unbearable.

“Hey! Cut the shit.” Namjoon warned them even though he was guilty too.

"Want me to take you to sleep?" Mammon whispered in her ear not paying attention to the rest. Y/N moaned softly in agreement.

"Please… I'm so tired."

Alastor chuckled. So soft and warm… also pitiful. He was happy to be born a demon. Humans were so weak. This thought swam in the demon’s heads far too often.

"Okay but on one condition." Her mind began coming back to life. What?

"Condition… What condition? Why should I do anything to deserve to go to sleep?" Her mumbling made the rest of the men laugh quietly. "I'm… I'm not a demon. I can't. It's been…"

"Only seven hours Y/N" Jungkook made the calculations instead of her. "We go on for days."

"I can't," the girl whined and grabbed his cloak. Cute.

"Here's the condition. Ready to listen, princess?"

"Just tell me."

The mischievous look that Jungkook gave to the rest got the fire burning inside of the demons. Their minds spun into different directions - was he going to let them touch her, play for a while, tell someone to go put her to bed, join her there? Many options but no one got it right…

“Here’s the deal - I will put a blindfold on your eyes.” She opened her mouth to protest but Mammon shushed her with a click of his tongue. “Then each one of us will come and give you a good night kiss and if you manage to guess who gave you the kiss correctly then I will escort you to the bedroom.” The man lifted his pierced brow and smiled dangerously.

“What happens if I don’t?” This was the biggest problem for her now. What then?

“Then you will have to entertain us for the rest of the night. The gentlemen here will give you orders and request something from you and as the good princess you are - you will do it.” The excited gasp that followed came from Hoseok’s mouth but Jungkook glared at him. “Of course the wishes are going to have some limitations and restrictions.”

“What the hell?” Y/N exclaimed in displeasure.

“That’s the deal” the King finished and waved at one of the servants. She brought him a black silky blindfold. He took it and waited for the young woman to come to a decision. With a defeated sigh Y/N raised her hands in the air.

“Whatever. Just do it fast so it can be over sooner.”

Jungkook smiled and tied the piece of cloth securely on the back of her head.

“You’re so pretty Y/N” Noir purred from the far end of the room.

She lost sense of direction and space.

“Princess, you ready?” Jimin’s soft voice came from the back. The girl whipped her head in that direction. Then the other when the sound of footsteps on the carpet distracted her.

“Let’s get this over with” Y/N gritted her teeth and straightened on the sofa, completely awake now.

There was a bit of rustling and she sensed a presence. One of them was leaning over her. The girl turned her head a bit to the side expecting a kiss on the cheek but… a disappointed grunt echoed through the room but it came from further away. The man standing in front of the student grabbed her by the jaw and turned her head towards him. It was a disapproving gesture.

The fingers were long and the hand was strong. Definitely not Jimin. Not Taehyung either - his slim fingers had a different feeling about them. She remembered this from when they were sparring.

The next thing she knew - the man’s lips crashed into hers with an unimaginable force. It was a demanding kiss, he was expecting to be honored and be given what was his. No piercings on the lip. Not Jungkook. It didn’t last long and once whoever was in front of the woman was satisfied he broke it off with a deep sigh.

When the man separated from her she felt flustered to the marrow of her bones.

“Good girls say good night to the people” Mammon’s voice was heard from behind.

“Good night” Y/N whimpered. Who was this?

Before even having the chance to think about it the cushions next to the girl sunk. Trying to see through the blindfold she immediately faced him. No luck with that… The demon ran the tips of his fingers over Y/N’s mouth and then began licking up her neck. In the process the man devouring her was inhaling deeply, engraving the young woman's smell in his mind.

That was… not-

"M-my King" she whispered breathlessly "this is not… not fair. I can't…"

He continued, absolutely unbothered by the comment. The sensitive skin on her shoulder and neck was feeling prickly and on fire. When the demon was satisfied he kissed Y/N on the cheek then bit her lip unexpectedly and strongly. She moaned into his mouth not sure if she wanted more or not.

She felt like a prey surrounded by blood-thirsty predators. Dreaded feeling. As soon as he initiated the contact it disappeared just as fast. The young woman's mind was working overtime and close to short-circuiting.

"Good night."

Three more to go…

"Jin." Yoongi approached the tall demon. He appeared to be having the time of his life, laughing, shouting and downing glass after glass with some other demons while leaning on the chest of a blonde woman.

Agares lazily lifted his head up to look at his subordinate. "Yes? Is something the matter?"

Baal was seeing something different in Jin now. The lack of contact with Y/N was making the demon behave as his former self. The question was why Yoongi was not turning back to his old ways. Maybe the deeper the connection the more long-lasting the aftereffect? He was not sure.

The mint-haired demon motioned for the sitting one to come over and talk privately. The latter one seemed annoyed but complied either way. The kiss he shared with the woman on his lap made Yoongi's stomach turn. Not good.

"Y/N is gone" he whispered once they got away from the commotion.

"So?" Agares shrugged. "She's probably with those Kings-wanna-be-s. Leave her be. Have some fun" he patted the shorter demon's shoulder in a belittling manner. Yoongi swatted it away.

"What the hell Jin?" Quiet growl escaped Baal’s pretty lips and his eyes narrowed.

“Do you think we can do something?!” The Master whispered back angrily, the attitude changing in a split second.

“It’s not like you’re trying.” This bitter accusation made Jin bark a laughter.

“You told me to keep my mind off of her. I’m just doing me so no one gets suspicious. You should do the same.” Agares turned and walked back to his table.

Yoongi didn’t waste any time and putting on his best blank expression mixed with the crowd.

…

Y/N was all shivery on the couch in the back room. The man that got to her next ravaged her, bruised the girl’s lips and made them swollen and pink, completely smearing the rest of the lipstick. Then he made sure that purple hickeys would bloom on her chest and shoulders. She wondered if Mammon was okay with her being marked by someone else like that. Up until now he appeared to be the jealous and possessive type along with being caring and considerate in his own way.

At that exact moment another pair of hands grabbed Y/N for the shoulders and a low growl followed suit. That was a sign for the demon not to go overboard.

She felt his slim figure pressing one final time into hers and with a final lick on Y/N’s neck the demon left. But she felt it. The thing that got him away… or at least the girl believed so.

The room was so quiet and even the footsteps on the carpeted floor were barely audible.

The next person came from behind and pulled her towards the headrest. The unexpected move made Y/N flinch. Choir of low laughter filled the room. She was so enticing…

A hand in her hair made the young woman's head tilt back. Gasping Y/N didn't expect to get into contact with another pair of lips in a searing spider-man-like kiss. Fluffy, pillow-like soft lips. Easy. Didn't expect him to go for that though. She smiled while their tongues were dancing. At that moment he stopped. It was a questioning action, the man was trying not to ask what is so funny. Why was that woman laughing?

"It's just…" she purred "I can recognize you anywhere. King Aamon." Y/N felt the power bubbling inside, the confidence. "Even if you bend a 180 degrees, cover your hands with steel or be silent for the whole night I can still recognize you." Quiet grunts came from all sides. The others were offered, especially Jungkook. No more touches followed. It was quiet for a few minutes. "Good night, Jimin" Y/N grinned triumphantly and closed her eyes under the blindfold.

The last demon that came to say bye peppered her face with feather-like kisses but never got to her lips. He was holding back and the young woman could feel it. The lack of contact made her needy and impatient. Her body moved on its own and lifted up in order to get closer but then it was over.

Who the hell was that? Since when were those filthy creatures holding back and being modest and considerate?

"Good night to you too. Whoever you are…" she huffed in displeasure.

With one pull the blindfold came undone and slipped down the girl's face. The five of them were standing tall in front of her, some smiling, some serious, but all of them waiting for the answer Y/N had to give.

"Let me just say that even though I haven't had much of a close contact with all of you I can read people well." That made Noir smirk. She was a smooth talker and a mediator, trying to play it safe. "I'm almost a hundred percent sure that my guesses are right even though I was confused at some point" her gaze fell on Jungkook's chiseled face. His lip rings were still in their respective places.

"So… the first one was King Corson. The next" she remembered the feverish feeling, the hotness consuming every cell of her body. "The King of the North . I wasn’t sure for a while to be honest.” She said the last part with a smile. “Also I was expecting to feel your piercing but I guess you took it off.” Mammon laughed.

“Smart cookies don’t get fooled by those on-the-nose things.”

Instead of staying seated, the girl got up and walked up to Mammon, maintaining equally self-assured eye contact. Reaching up she ran her thumb over Jungkook's lower lip, over the piercing. "You might have taken off those pretty rings but I know how you taste" the whisper got everyone in the room on edge. Jungkook gritted his teeth.

"You're such a tease, princess. Thread carefully and don't provoke me" the dangling earrings chimed when the demon bent down menacingly. Y/N just gave him a 24 carat smile and faced to the left.

“Moving on. Next was Alastor. Your tongue gave you away.”

"My tongue. You have such a knack for the details" Hoseok chuckled and his eyes began shining brighter.

"It's kind of hard not to notice it. Especially when it's like that of a snake and you don't keep it inside your mouth - licking your fork in such a filthy way, running it over your lips while looking at the harem girls…" Y/N could play the games too and probably as well as them. "Then came King Aamon. I guess I ruined your fun but I couldn't stop myself."

Jimin tilted his head to the side in a fake confusion and his full lips formed a pout. "Oooh… sweetness. You think you've ruined something? You have no idea what's coming."

Pretending not to notice his remark Y/N faced Taehyung.

"Anyways. The next one - the General. It was almost as easy as getting right the beloved King of the South. You were trying to stay away so I couldn't feel the plates, you didn't touch me also, which meant that you believe that I can recognize you easily by the shape of your hands…"

The man looked at each other displeased. Alastor clicked his tongue. "I was hoping to have some more fun tonight."

"Kookie is mean for setting this rule," Jimin went on. "She should stay with us some more. It's fun to play with this little one" his hooded eyes were roaming Y/N's figure. He separated from the group and took his glass from the table.

Taehyung in comparison to the rest seemed calm and collected, keeping quiet, but she could see the fiery color his irises had become. He almost regretted not tasting her rosy bruised lips but he was a gentleman well-thought… or at least in this case. He wanted to give her more than to take something for himself. So unlike him.

"Gaap?" Namjoon called.

"Yes?" Getting out of his daydream the demon faced his brothers.

"Should we move on to the usual?" The ruler of the West offered.

The General nodded. "Why not?"

…

The walk to her bedroom was long but Mammon kept on talking so Y/N kept her focus on the man next to her.

"You're something extraordinary" he stated at some point. The girl gave him a questioning look. "You manage to keep all eyes on you, everyone listens to what you say, all of your actions make the spectators intrigued - everyone will love your rule if you decide to sit on the throne next to me." Straight to the point. "Maybe your demon power will really be connected to the speech. This will be fascinating." Y/N rolled her eyes at the man.

"Quit it. I'm not going to be a demon - I'm human and also I don't want to be a queen or whatever" she waved a hand dismissively. Jungkook frowned upon hearing that. She was rejecting all of that so easily. "I want to go home…"

"Y/N you're bound to stay here. The potential you have, the opportunity to become a great and fierce ruler…Don’t waste it. You can’t." Mammon was getting all excited just thinking about it. He wanted to be the one that was going to sit next to the young woman when that happened.

"Jungkook," she sighed, "you're getting ahead of yourself. I'm not made for this world. I don't know my ways around here. Do you know how hard it is to constantly be kept under supervision, be accompanied by guards with no alone-time? I need space, I want to feel safe." The girl stopped in the middle of the hallway and looked the tall man straight in the eyes. "I need to feel safe." She repeated with sorrow.

"But you can stay, I can give you the world. Once you learn how move around safely and avoid danger-"

Y/N cut the man off mid-sentence. "No. I don't want to. I want to go back" this was the last straw for the King. To him it felt like arguing with a child. The woman was repeating one and the same thing, keeping at it. Affected by his annoyance the King couldn’t see that he was doing exactly the same. He was almost spitting fire when he began to speak.

“Foolish creature! You will come around sooner or later and when that happens…” he slashed the air with his hand “you will come to me! Remember my words!”

“We will see about that” Y/N seethed. With an angry strut she walked past the demon, her heels hitting the tiles forcefully.

…

Agares was finishing another bottle of liquor with his fellow demons.

“Have you seen Asmodeus?” One of the ministers, sitting on Jin’s left side, asked.

“Last I heard he was sent on a secret scouting mission in Lux Terra. They’ve been up to something recently.” The other - Taxx - explained. “There’s nothing bright and lucid about this rotten place.”

Jin nodded solemnly then decided to give his input. “The queen is training more and more spies. Women to be precise.” The two ministers hummed. They knew this was happening but didn’t know how fast or why. The people of Lux Terra never participated in the disputes between the countries or took part in the wars. Why now?

“Why though?” The bearded man on the left asked.

Agares placed a hand on his chin deep in thought. “I think she got some predictions about the future and is preparing for a huge hit. Do you know the spies are actually former prostitutes?”

The other two got wide-eyed. “Yes. Since they’re cunning, sly and able to get any information out of the clients without any trouble the queen decided to take them in and educate them, then train them. Then send the women to other countries and gather intelligence.”

“Nasty witch” Taxx was rumbling.

“Yes” Jin agreed. “Imagine if we can’t trust any woman to take into the harems. What the fuck?” The demon huffed but then smiled at them looking pleased. “That’s why I got a special lady to keep me company.”

No.

“Oh really?” The bearded one seemed interested. “Where did you get her from?”

“She comes from far away. Exotic place. This girl is something else.”

Hell no.

A picture of Y/N began surfacing in Agares’ mind. Memories of what happened between them drowned every other thought. Jin was losing grip of his composure. It was a matter of time before someone caught up…

He lifted up his gaze when a hand gripped his shoulder tightly with a crushing force.

“Excuse my intrusion ministers but I need Agares over there for a while” Yoongi was standing behind the jolly trio. The minty-haired demon dragged his master away.

They exited the ballroom and moved to one of the further hallways.

“Jin.” Yoongi hissed through his teeth. “You’re losing it. You’re putting us in danger. Your mind is littered with Y/N’s face. What if someone finds out about her?! We’re done for!” The situation was getting more and more out of hand.

“I wasn’t going to say or show anything! Also I’m not answering to you as far as I remember. It’s the other way around.” Agares countered. Both of them were trying to keep their heads clean while having this ridiculous argument.

“Yeah, sure. I saw your thoughts. I heard them.”

“So what? I can’t make others go crazy with jealousy and greed?”

“No! Not here with so many people around.” Baal ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “The four of them are keeping close tabs on us. One slip and she will be taken away. Used. Do you want to be devoid of the leverage we have?”

The tall demon rolled his eyes.

“No one can know about this girl.”

“Know what?” A mocking voice came from the shadows down the hall.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[nightshade-minho]

Alive Again

Warnings: necromancer!hyunjin, death, fingering, themes of satanism, necromancy, witchcraft etc.

Wc: 1.9k

There he was, again.

You let out a long, annoyed sigh as you watched from the shadows. Leaves crunching under your feet, you stepped out from behind the bush, having had enough.

"Hey!"

The man crouching before the gravestone glanced up, raising an eyebrow as his eyes landed on you. He looked you up and down, a small smirk growing on his features.

"Uh...can I help you?" He asked, straightening up and taking a step towards you. You immediately took one back, swallowing as you registered just how tall he is- he was basically towering over you.

Your words caught in your throat for a second as you tried to remember exactly why you'd been mad at him. His gaze, directed at you, was thick with intrigue and another emotion you can't decipher. It's throwing you off.

Your mouth opened and closed as the man rolled his eyes, turning around and heading back to the grave at your lack of response.

"Wait-"

He looked over his shoulder, his eyes cold this time. "What? Spit it out, little girl. I haven't got all night. In fact, you just interrupted my ritual."

Ritual? Suddenly, the candles and chalk circles on the tombstone made sense. You swallowed, mind swimming with a million thoughts. So, your suspicions were correct.

"I..." You clenched your fists. "I see you here everyday. This- this is my spot." You mumbled, realizing just how stupid you sounded as the words left your mouth.

The look he gave you only served to reinforce that.

"Your...spot?" He chuckled, crossing his arms and walking back towards you. "Do you own this graveyard, princess?" He asked, his tone filled with mock curiosity.

"I- no. But- there's never been anyone else in here with me-"

Hyunjin put his finger on his chin. "Why do you like this place so much, anyway? Someone your age should be out there, partying with your friends and what not." He said, sounding like he was talking to himself more than you.

"I like this place. It's quiet here. I've spent every night here for more than ten years." You explained, swallowing.

"Hm. Bad home life?"

"Understatement." You said softly, shaking your head. "It's been more than a year since I left home for good. Now I live here."

Hyunjin hummed, his tone filled with what seemed like genuine sympathy. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that...but unfortunately, I can't just pack up and leave. I have work to do. " He gestured to the pentagram. "I expect I'll be here a while."

"But..." You don't want this. You don't want him encroaching your space, leaving his arcane items and trinkets everywhere. You hated unfamiliarity, the way it made you feel cold and fearful. You'd spent all these years alone, after all...gotten used to the solitude.

"No...you c-can't." You muttered, steeling yourself to deliver your reply. It was extremely difficult denying this beautiful man. There was a part of you that was inexplicably pulled to him. Something about him excited you, sending tingles all over your body and melting away your inhibitions one by one.

"I can't? This place is big enough for the two of us, love. Why don't you want this?"

You grit your teeth. All these questions were irritating you. "I don't have a reason to let you stay."

Hyunjin bit his lip at that, nodding slowly. He pursed his lips, staying silent for a minute before his eyes slowly lit up with an idea.

"Tell you what...why don't I give you one?"

"Give me what?"

"A reason to let me stay."

You didn't miss the way his eyes sparkled with mischief as he uttered the words. Feeling your cheeks flush, you internally reminded yourself to stay strong. 

No, you weren't going to budge, no matter what he offered you. Although...you had a small idea of what he was insinuating, and you'd be lying if you said the thought wasn’t enticing. 

"Elaborate." You said cautiously, eyes widening a little when he backed you up against the statue behind you, catching you off guard.

"Why do that when I could just show you?" He asked, voice low and deep. His eyes bore into you, searching yours with an urgency.

"S-show me? I-"

He cut you off, leaning closer until your lips were brushing. His proximity made the words fizzle and die on your tongue, your cheeks burning as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

"So flustered. I haven't even done anything of significance yet." He chuckled, a finger coming up to trace your jawline.

"I don't-"

He rolled his eyes, closing the minimal distance between the two of you to press his plump lips to yours.

It felt like stars were exploding in your belly. You'd never been kissed before, and it seemed a little unfair to you that he would be your first. This devilishly handsome intruder, barrelling into your life without prior notice.

You kissed him back, though. Any shred of rationality left in your form was quickly disappearing as he nipped at your lips, letting out a soft moan into the kiss. He snaked his hands under your thighs, spreading them apart to fit himself in between. "Fuck..." His lips wandered down to your neck, kissing the spot gently before sucking on the smooth skin.

Pulling away after a few minutes to catch his breath, he grinned down at you. Your lips were red and kiss-bitten, your neck covered with marks. He prided himself in the masterpiece he'd created.

Inhaling, he leaned in again, lips ghosting your jaw. "Do you want this? Tell me you want this, Y/n."

"I...I do..." You said softly under your breath, avoiding his eyes as the embarrassment flooded your being.

"Louder." He hissed, pressing himself against you to let you feel the bulge growing in his pants.

"I want you!" You cried out, holding onto his shoulders as he lifted you up slightly. "Please, it's been years since I've been touched- I n-need it."

You closed your eyes, having caught a glimpse of his triumphant smirk and not wanting to see it for any longer than you had to. He had started to squeeze your thighs, warming you up as he placed a line of wet kisses down your neck.

"Good girl. Don't worry, I'll make you feel good. Promise." He assured, setting you on top of the base of the statue. The statue was that of an angel, and you would have found the situation funny if Hyunjin wasn't sliding his fingers up and down your covered clit, causing your brain to blank.

"So wet. You weren't lying when you said you haven't been touched in years, hm?"

You stayed silent, biting your lip in order to prevent a moan from bubbling out. He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Thought so."

He grabbed the waistband of your panties with one hand, dragging it down and discarding them on the floor. Bringing his long fingers up to your lips, he pressed them in. "Suck." He ordered, staring at you intensely. His stare was so deep, You realized the undecipherable emotion had been lust all along, and your heart pounded.

You obeyed him immediately, sucking on his digits eagerly as your pussy throbbed, needing attention. You bucked your hips slightly, a needy expression directed at the man in front of you.

"An impatient one, are you?" He winked, pulling his fingers out of your mouth, travelling downwards to stroke your entrance.

"Lucky for you, I'm feeling pretty impatient tonight, too." He breathed, leaning forward to suck on your jaw as he pushed the digits past your walls, hissing at how tight you were.

"Fuck, I can't wait to feel you around my cock-" You exhaled shakily at his words, whining as he crooked his fingers up, finding your sweet spot with no difficulty. The sensations flooding throughout your body as he thrusted them into your cunt were incredible, ones you had never experienced before. It felt like your drab, dreary world confined to the cemetery was exploding with a burst of color as his fingers brought you to the edge.

"So pretty for me, baby. Am I making you feel good?"

What kind of question was that? Your moans were loud despite your best efforts to hold them back, your legs shivering and your lips quivering. The answer to that should be fairly obvious, you thought.

"Y-yeah. Love it- ah!" You cried out when his pace increased, his fingers almost a blur from how fast he was slamming them into you. He was able to fill you up so well even like this, and you found yourself drooling at the thought of what was to come.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful like this." He hummed, his thumb pressing onto your clit and rubbing gently. His other hand came up to your breast, flicking your nipple over the fabric and causing you to let out a gasp.

You were nearing the edge, hurtling towards it. Hyunjin didn't let up, adding a third finger and moving the trio at a speed that was almost inhumane.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you? I can feel you clenching."

You nodded, tears pricking at your eyes as he slowed down his thrusts, making his fingers go as deep into your heat as he possibly could before pounding into you once more.

"You're a sight to behold." He mumbled, pressing his lips to yours gently, sucking on them. It was the last push you needed to fall over the edge, combined with his movements down south.

You'd never felt any sensation more otherworldly than the one taking over you at the moment. Your orgasm seized you mercilessly, sending electricity shooting over you and leaving you quaking in its wake.

His lips were still on yours as he groaned at the feeling of you squirting all over him. Pulling away, he observed the amount of juices that had spilled out of you and let out a wry chuckle.

"Fuck, I really want to make you do that again. On my cock, this time."

You spoke through pants, chest heaving. "Yes- yes please. Want." You mumbled incoherently, your brain turning into mush as you slumped in his hold.

He kissed your forehead, smiling. "And you will. Let's continue this at home, shall we?"

"Home?" You asked in confusion, peeling your eyes open. The graveyard was your home. What was he talking about?

"My home." He repeated, rubbing circles on your skin. "You'll be living with me from now on, baby."

You averted your eyes from him, disappointment filling you as he said the words. Tempting, but it would never happen. Your fate lay in this graveyard, your destiny an eternity of floating just beyond the veil.

"I..." You closed your eyes, a sob caught in your throat. "I can't...leave. I'm not-"

"I know."

You looked up, puzzled as his expression softened. He pulled you close to his body, picking you up. "You don't have to worry, love."

"You knew?" Your eyes widened in shock. You looked back over what had just happened, small clues that he was aware revealing themselves. You remembered suddenly that he'd known your name, even though you hadn't told it to him outright...he'd touched you, even felt you. The tiniest flicker of hope lit up your heart as he stared at you fondly.

"Yes." He kissed your forehead as he started moving to the gate. "You're no longer stuck here, darling." He said firmly.

You could barely contain all the emotions tangled in your heart as you tried to make sense of it all. Looking over his shoulder as he carried you, you ran your eyes over your tombstone and the candles he'd placed in front of it. The pentagram on top was still shining, illuminating the grave and setting it apart from the others.

"You're alive again, Y/n. And this time, you're mine."

Happy Halloween!

[koushisatori]

Anniversary

First of all: If you happen to stumble across this, please cut me some slack and be gentle with me. English is not my mother tongue, and on top of that, I got rusty by procrastinating everything (literally) for the last half-year (*μ_μ) I am apologizing in advance if something is weirdly written.

This is also my first ever piece of fanfiction, so I have to get used to that to :(( So if you got ideas or anything, I’ll gladly try to fulfill your wishes to simultaneously improve my writing.

Hmm, is there anything else? I hope not, and if there is, I’ll add it !! 

tendou x f!reader

genre: small bit of angst, fluff

warnings: none

word count: 2.7k

note: /

__________________________________________________________

usually, your relationship with Tendou is smooth sailing, both of you decided to take the step of moving in together relatively early, exceeding the common couples limit by not only doing this barely a year into your relationship but doing so in a different country far from your family and friends

(both of you learning french together to survive a new life in an absolutely foreign country...however, the first months of grocery shopping were disastrous ) 

you both became a couple in your last year at Shiratorizawa, surprising absolutely....well,...no one, honestly

every person just seeing a moment of your interactions with each other would have guessed that you already were dating

Tendou and you were the embodiment of being disgustingly in love - like people see you and feel  s i n g l e wanting to have what you two obviously found with the other

(SemiSemi, to this day, shudders violently thinking about how he caught you two making out in the storage room a week after Tendou finally confessed to you <3) 

anyway

while Tendou followed his dream of becoming a chocolatier, you began to study - enter: stress

after finishing his required training he got a job at a high-class factory (everything his handmade and super expensive?? You’re just so lucky to be his better half and get to taste his creations for free)

they value his skills and invest in him to become better, but that also means that his time for you shrank even more

you understood that, of course, and it's not like you didn’t spend a lot of your times crouching over books either with being close to receiving your first degree

in general, your fights are stressed-induced, and as quickly forgotten as they came up bc...let’s not beat around the bush, both of you are shit at staying mad at the other, especially if it means cutting short the already sparse time you currently have <3

they’re usually about petty stuff, too

recently though it happens more regularly and they ever so slowly started to border on painful

he stays at work for longer to perfect his already otherworldly skills; and your patience is running thin with all the deadlines and exams putting immense pressure on you

both of you are just so unsatisfied and stressed and...so fucking tired

it’s always forgivable though

you don’t mind planned dinner dates turning into movie nights with him falling asleep on you after what feels like seconds

because he’s there, pressing his face into your side or stomach hard enough for you to wonder if he’s trying to suffocate himself, while his long arms are around your waist holding onto you as if his life depends on it

he doesn’t mind being splayed across your lap watching the latest episodes of his series while you type away on your laptop, even though you were supposed to enjoy a nice weekend lazying in front of the tv with him 

a forgotten date hasn’t killed you yet as well, but the amount of times it was currently happening allowed insecurities to have their way with you

both of you always make up for it one way or another (leaving an apology breakfast or even taking it to bed, buying flowers, sharing the sweet kisses you were supposed to enjoy the night before,...) 

but this time, he didn’t just forget to be on time for any date.

he completely missed your anniversary

you spend the whole afternoon cooking his favorite dish for dinner, making yourself all pretty for him, wearing the jewelry he got you for your birthday, it was some kind of tradition by now

just to be stood up, dinner turning cold and your mood sour

no message, no callback

around 11pm he - finally ! - gets in touch with you 

‘‘(Y/N)!! Bunny, did something happen? Did you miss me so much?’’

you could hear the dopey grin he was wearing while teasing you, one you usually loved, one that was contagious

but it didn’t help the pain and disappointment nesting in your heart, right now

he really didn’t remember

was the date so insignificant to him? were you no longer a priority?

you swallow around the lump in your throat, desperately begging your brain to not amplify your insecurities even more

‘’No...it’s...it’s alright, I just wanted to know when you’re home...’’ your attempt to keep the doubts and pain you experienced that second hidden was pointless, because even on the phone, your boyfriend was able to look right through you

‘‘Bunny what’s wrong?’’ he asks worriedly

normally you’d say that it was alright, that you’d speak later or directly say what was bugging you so terribly

this time...you didn’t feel like talking or maybe even fighting, scared that he might confirm your thoughts and leave you

‘’It’s nothing, Tendou,...’’ you hear him wince, you can’t remember the last time you called him that ’’don’t bother with me if it’s not as important to you.’’ 

‘‘Not as...’’ a moment of silence follows, in which he checked the date and, lastly, Tendou understood ‘’Oh. Oh shit, (Y/N),...Bunny, please, wait for me, please, let me explain...’‘

It’s not the answer you wanted (on the other hand, what answer would that be?)

‘‘I waited...and I’m tired,’‘ you add without thinking, hanging up before he even got the chance to answer

while you don’t want things to end...you can’t help but think ‘what if?’ - that thought alone though is enough for the dams to burst

With a soft groan, you blink your burning eyes open, noticing your spine protesting and pop from the uncomfortable position you fell asleep in. A glance at the alarm clock elicited another tired groan, the 4 on display mocking you. 

The burning and overall sluggish feeling controlling your body immediately reminded you of the things that had taken place. That his scent surrounding you arose solely due to his pillow in which you had pressed your face.

While you obviously weren’t on the best of terms right now, a small part of you was still hopeful and reached out across the bed in search for the warmth your red-haired better half usually provided. Unsurprisingly, your hand met a cold bed half.

An annoyed sigh later, you sat up and rubbed over your eyes angrily. You were hurt, which should be understandable, but remembering his overly happy tone even with evident tiredness underlaying it, you guessed that he didn’t stay behind on purpose and that, maybe, something good had happened. So to say, you as well behaved like an idiot.

Suddenly, you remember the last sentence you said. Realizing what it implied, you felt like banging your head against the wall. You wanted to be understood by him. What you didn’t want was to give Satori the time to allow his anxious tendencies to fester while he was alone, foregoing untrue, negative ideas. The fact that he still wasn’t in bed with you, was proof enough which lead to you cursing out loud.

While your last words towards him told something differently, you surely didn’t want to leave him or him to leave you. Both of you could work things out, you always did, and…well, you always hoped that it would stay that way until you had lived a fulfilling life as a couple, with grey hair and wrinkles taking your last breath together wherever life would lead the two of you.

The simple solution was to communicate like the grown adults you are. 

Determined to talk through it the way you should have done earlier and maybe...just maybe get some cuddles afterward, you swung your legs out from under the blankets. After you quickly put on some warm, worn-out socks, you quietly leave the bedroom and tip-toe through the hallway.

You expected the apartment to be silent, to be dark. What you didn’t expect is the soft light coming from your shared kitchen. Or the clinking noises of bowls and pots colliding lightly, lowly muttered, sleepy curses, and even quieter sniffles interrupting the barrage of words from time to time.

Upon hearing those little sounds - no doubt coming from your anxious boyfriend - your heart clenched painfully in your chest. This is your injudicious doing. Straightening your back, you stepped into the kitchen, slightly squinting against the much harsher ceiling lights assaulting your eyes.

The original plan was to offer a heartfelt apology, and follow it up by an honest declaration of love and the proposal to talk about everything. There were a lot of things that needed to be cleared up between you and Tendou. But after entering the kitchen, you came to an abrupt halt.

Your eyes wandered, lingering on cuts, burns, and blisters that blemished your boyfriends' pretty fingers. Slowly, your gaze continued to move up his arms and shoulders, tensed and screaming out his fear of losing you. For a moment, you hesitated, but you eventually lifted your gaze to meet his wide eyes, as red-rimmed and puffy as yours. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Normally, you would find it adorable and stretch your hands out to cup his cheeks (not to pull him down, definitely not) and press a kiss to his lips...but right now? You really just felt like crying, seeing your Satori so heartbroken over something you said carelessly in the heat of the moment.

Suddenly wincing, Tendou quickly pulls back his hand to his chest away from the hot stove. Yet, he did not dare to break eye contact with you. Seemingly afraid that what he currently saw is nothing but a sleep-deprivation induced hallucination. That you would just vanish if he so much dared to even think of blinking.

The stupor rooting you to the spot though vanished in favor of closing the gap between the two of you to help him.

‘‘Tori...’‘ you croaked worriedly, eyes flickering down to his hands and back up to his watery, sad eyes. ‘‘I’m so sorry,’’ you whispered. Any louder and your voice might break. ’’...let me take care of you.’‘ 

You turned off the stove before you gently tugged Tendou behind you to the bathroom. Making him sit on the edge of the small tub, you gathered everything you needed to patch him up with rehearsed movements.

For a while, both of you were silent. 

You carefully worked on disinfecting cuts and putting special creams on the different wounds and burns, while not hurting him any further. Concentrating on ignoring the thick tension of untold apologies, and fear. Doubt weighing heavy on the two of you. 

Meanwhile, Tendou couldn't help but admire your features. Your soft hair - faintly smelling like peaches and anis - falling into your face, hiding away your pretty (Y/E/C) eyes. He loved to get lost in them. Or how your tongue poked out between your lips in concentration and the little scrunch of your nose when you thought that you could have done better. 

Even in this hazy state of mind, he knew for certain that he would try to hold onto you for as long as possible. That he would do anything to make you forgive him.

After you finished gently wrapping band-aids (silly ones with colorful patterns just the way you both love) around his fingers, on his palm, and back of his hand, he quickly moved them to hold onto yours.

‘‘Don’t leave me.’‘ Tendou's voice is just above a whisper, and if you wouldn't have been that close to him as you were, you would have missed it. But you could hear him, and your eyes immediately met his, filling with tears all over again.

‘‘Satori, I’m-’‘

‘‘(Y/N), please...please, don’t leave me. I’m so sorry. Of course, I care. Our relationship, you...nothing’s as important to me as you are. It was the only thing keeping me sane that last week. I don't know why I forgot about it. I truly feel horrible.'' he started. ''Please, believe me. I love you so, so much. I...I can’t imagine a life without you. I don’t want to.’’ Even with his voice quivering, it was crystal clear just how serious his words were to him. 

He needed to get it out in the open. There was no way in hell that he would allow any doubts about your relationship to fester in your mind.

‘’I was held back to talk about the upcoming Christmas preparations that I’m supposed to be leading this year, and then I was called into the boss’ office and I couldn’t check my phone,’‘ the desperation to explain still evident, Tendou resorted to rambling about the happenings of the day.

‘‘I’m sorry for hurting you, but Bunny, I beg you...I know that we haven't had enough time those last weeks, that we didn't have any if we’re honest. I understand that you must feel neglected. I will change that, give me a chance to make you forgive me, please.’‘ 

It wasn’t like you wanted to cry again, but the tears rolling down your cheeks seemed to have a mind on their own. ‘’ ‘Tori...’’ you sniffled, your voice breaking away at the last syllable. ‘’Can I hug you?’’  

The relief on his face spoke volumes, and before you even got the chance to make good on your words, he already stands tall in front of you, enveloping you tightly.

Securely wrapped up in Satoris’ arms, you feel like coming home after months away. Or like taking in the first gasp of fresh air after holding your breath underwater for too long. With Tendou holding onto you like this, you found the strength to answer.

''I'm sorry, too...I love you so much, and...I know you always have a reason, and it was childish to hang up on you and leave you worrying alone instead of talking to you. And...if you neglected me those last weeks, then I did the same. We both were too busy for each other...'' 

After a short pause, you ask: ''B-but we can work it out, right?’’ Slowly, you looked up to him. ‘’I want to spend my life with you, Satori. Don’t listen to dumb me 5 hours earlier. 5-hours-ago-me was so stupid, and petty, and does not reflect my true wishes,’’ you added. ’’No one of our old friends wanted to put up with me the last week because I’m so head over heels in love with you and all I do is tell them ‘’You should have seen what Tori did for me’’ and what I plan to do for you...I can feel them roll their eyes from the other side of the world!’’

Suddenly aware of your very honest words, you pushed your face against his chest to hide your burning cheeks. Embarrassment painting them in a pretty hue of pink. 

Tendou hadn't realized that he had actually held his breath listening to your words until he chuckled a bit breathlessly. The remaining tension possessing both of your bodies faded away after that, allowing you to relish in the feeling of having the other in your arms again.

After a while, you bravely gazed up at him again, even with your cheeks still set ablaze. ''Come to bed?'' And with a sweet smile, one that reached his eyes and made your heart stutter, he nodded. 

Things between the two of you weren't ideal quite yet, Tendou kknew that much. But they would be. Tomorrow would be a new day. You would hopefully agree to celebrate your anniversary a day later. He hoped, that you would agree to spend it with him from the first second you woke up to the very last before you fell asleep. You will hopefully enjoy the news that his promotion was topped with holidays that allowed you to spend Christmas and New Year's Eve with your families in Japan.

He also hoped for you to say yes when, surrounded by your friends, he would ask you to marry him under the Cherry Blossoms in spring.

Things weren't quite ideal, but watching your peaceful expression while sleeping on his chest, he knew, all the up and downs were worth powering through. He would embrace every hardship if that meant keeping you by his side forever.

[biznichwrites]

Kinktober 12: ABO, Degradation, Collaring, Cock Warning.

And yes. I’m going to make it a point to do all 4. This turned out far longer than I intended, which is why it’s a day late. 

AU where Giyuu is a God of fertility, which someone in the Discord came up with. Thank you for letting me use the idea! 💙

The wolf God sat within his shrine, idly looking through the offerings left during the day by the humans of the village below. It was always the same thing - rice, sake, fried tofu. While he was happy the humans celebrated him, he was also bored of these gifts. A fox spirit came to join him at the altar, sniffing around at food left by the townspeople.

“Same thing as usual, Sabito.” the gods hand rested atop the foxes head, stroking the peach fur. “It’s been a while since we received anything of variety from the humans. Perhaps they are saving for the festival?”

—————————–

The festival was supposed to be fun they said. Make a minor offering to the gods as a whole village they said. Dress nicely for our gods so we may have a plentiful harvest and blessed pregnancies they said.

What lies. The harvest was poor last year and was looking to be just as pitiful, if not worse, this year as well. Of course the villagers panicked, why wouldn’t they? Starvation was looking to be their only option unless they received divine intervention.

Which is how you ended up wrapped in rope and left on a flat stone near the shrine of the wolf God that watched over your small town. You had fought at first but somehow everyone viewed you as a worthy sacrifice, not willing to be one themselves. With a sigh of defeat you curled your body into yourself and accepted your life ended here.

—————————

The wolf demon didn’t leave his temple for the village. How could he? Mating season has begun and he had entered fully into rutt. The humans never seemed to understand, always wanting such big feats without giving something in return.

A bark from his fox companion stirred him from his thoughts. Immediately he could smell the humans near to his shrine. Did they really need to come here? He was nearly at the point of attacking out of rage until a particular scent hit him.

A woman? Usually men were the only ones that came here. Of course she was surrounded by men, but he waited in silence, having Sabito look at the situation and report back to him.

Though it was strange. A human woman hadn’t visited in years. What were they planning?

——————–

As night fell you were unsure if the God you prayed to was even real. Would he come eat you or would you face a slow death in his rock? What was strange was the fleeting fox, so odd in color. You have heard of red foxes, but never one so… Peach toned. Perhaps it was the changing of coats? Though that didn’t explain how the animal seemed to glow as the sun set.

Your thoughts were interrupted by rustling of clothing in the distance. Even though you couldn’t move your body well, your head functioned well enough to chance a glance at the sound. A man, someone you’d never seen before in your small village, padded from the entrance of the shrine towards you.

As he grew closer it was obvious he was beautiful, even in an otherworldly way. Hair blacker than the night sky, eyes that glittered like gems you had only heard about, eyes that were blue like the sky during the setting sun, skin so pale and unblemished it couldn’t belong to a human. Was this the God you were gifted to? The telltale signs he wasn’t human were the fluffy black ears atop his head, looking eerily similar to the wolves your village feared.

“Sabito, keep watch.” The fox was quick to obey the order, running into the forrest with fluidity that could only be divine. Your eyes looked up at the man, taking in the fact you loved to see a God, even if you didn’t live much longer.

The tremble setting into your body couldn’t be helped, you were terrified after all. Was he going to cut you open? Eat you alive? Make you a bloody sacrifice? Fear only mounted as he hovered over you, caging your already tied body against the rock.

Your body jolted as he pressed his nose to your neck and inhaled deeply. A hum resounded through his body before he continued further, pressing his nose to your hair. What was he doing?

To him you smelled heavenly, so sweet and yet with a feminine musk. His heightened sense of smell during his rut had told him you were female, but he was faced with the need for more. He wondered if the villagers knew you were ovulating or just picked the prettiest girl in the village. Either way, this was the best gift they had given him in centuries. He would be sure to savor you.

Still seeing you tied up didn’t help. It held your clothing tight and accentuated your form, particularly your breasts. Unconsciously his tail flickered around behind him as his face moved to your chest, licking the curve of your breast to feel the bud of your nipple catch on his tongue. Immediately he focused on the peaked nipple, sucking and nibbling it through the fabric of your kimono.

You were so confused. How were you supposed to feel good during a sacrifice? Was this normal? Either way you would take this over death. Bring touched by a handsome man, or rather God, was much preferable to being eaten alive. The decision to enjoy this what it was worth echoed within your head. Those villagers wouldn’t get their way, you wouldn’t die tonight.

The same sat up, a string of saliva connecting him to your breast until it broke. Clawed hands smoothed over your body, mapping your curves before settling along your thighs. The man let out a huff of irritation seeing their had tied your legs together as well. Even to him it was a bit much. With his claws he tore through the ropes, only leaving one around your neck as the sole survivor.

With your arms free you shifted to lay more comfortably under the man as he wasted no time throwing the shredded rope to the side. It was a relief to be able to breathe easily again without the bindings restricting your air intake.

He wasn’t sure if it was his rut or is brain speaking to him, but you were the most beautiful human he had ever laid eyes on. Breeding you was going to be a treat. Once you were clear of the rope, the bits of what was left on the rock and ground around you, he pulled your kimono open to leave you bare beneath him.

Your scent was so much stronger that it left him in a high. His mouth latched to your neck, sucking and licking from the curve along your shoulder to your ear. As he nibbled your earlobe you could hear his heavy breathing, the small grunts and groans he made as he covered on side of you neck with marks of his own. Timidly your hands lifted, tentatively coming to rest along the back of his neck and shoulder.

The soft fur of his wolf ear pressed against your cheek, almost making you laugh at the cuteness of it compared to his lewd actions. Perhaps it was just the tension of death leaving you, but you didn’t mind the turn of events. It all felt so nice, like he fit against you just right. You pet his ears as his face was buried in your neck.

There was a shift in his body language, from being stiff and commanding to something… tender. Soft fur shifted over your legs and you realized it was his tail that happened to be hidden below the layers of his kimono. His lips trailed from your jaw to your lips, sealing his own against yours in a kiss. Soon enough gentle presses of his lips turned into lip biting that devolved to your tongues dancing together.

He pulled back swiftly with a growl, looking down at you with iridescent eyes that glowed in the moonlight. A clawed hand found the rope tied around you neck a tugged, forcing you to follow him off the rock and into the temple. It seemed more alive with him inside of it, or maybe that was just the divinity rolling off of him.

“Giyuu.” He turned to you, tugging your makeshift collar until you were pressed against him. At first you were lost but realized that was his name. What a way to meet a God. A hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to leave your neck exposed. A whimper left your throat at the action but you didn’t fight it.

He found himself drowning in the feeling of you, loving how pliable and submissive you were, doing as he wished without a complaint. While holding your head still he pushed your kimono from your frame. A dusting of red covered your cheeks as he exposed your body to his hungry eyes. He wasn’t shy to touch you, his free hand smoothing over your body to grope at the curves your form offered.

He was sure he wanted to keep you. At the very least he can have you there to take care of his physical needs and entertain him through his monotonous days. The God urged you to the floor by tugging your collar and hair backwards and you bent to his will without question. Once on the ground he wasn’t shy about touching you. His fingers took in the curve of your bare breasts, circling his hands around them before pushing his fingers together to pinch your nipples.

It was enthralling how your moaned, how your body trembled and your hips bucked. His focused shifted to your legs and what lied between them, noticing how strong your scent had become. Your body responded so well, like it wanted him to fuck and breed you. As he shifted lower he held your hips, pushing himself between your legs to reveal yourself to him.

A growl echoed in the room. You looked so good he couldn’t contain his excitement. It was just so pretty, your pussy, as well as your thighs, glistening with your slick that threatened to drip from your core. Hands held your thighs open as his tongue ran along the soft flesh, trailing from the inside of your knee to your need.

He knew you needed him, just like he needed you, and pulled the lips of your pussy apart to take you in. So pink, so wet, so delicious. Without a wasted moment his mouth attached to your core, licking and sucking hard. You couldn’t stop your hips from rolling up against his face, but he didn’t seem to mind it as your slick covered his lips and chin. As he licked you his tongue traced over your clit, loving how you squirmed and whimpered for him as your hands buried themselves in his hair.

Every moan falling from your lips motivated him, made him press further to take in your reactions. He knew human women loved the bud above their entrance played with, but he wasn’t prepared for how you rolled your hips into his mouth. With a groan of his own his lips sealed around you clit, sucking tenderly while the tip of his tongue flicked the sensitive tip.

Your thighs closed around his head as you grew closer to your peak, keeping him in place as the coil within your tightened. Still he shifted his movements, pushing his tongue within you to lick at your slick walls. A pitiful cry pulled into way from you as your body trembled and the heat within you grew hotter and hotter before it burst.

“Giyuu!” Such a lewd cry of his name sent his rut into full swing, licking into your cunt without mercy, even after you had cum. Your trembles and shakes had calmed, leaving you so soft and limp. You took in a huge gulp of air, heaving for breath as you laid tirely on the floor before him.

The God shed his clothing, leaving him just as naked as you were. Such a handsome body shouldn’t be allowed, especially such a perfect dick. So thick, long enough to reach the parts within you that cried for attention, such a pretty color. It all renewed your want. He wasted no time wrapping your legs around him and at his urging you locked your feet behind him, leaving your toes brushing against the black fur at the base of his tail.

With your legs as leverage you pressed your core to his length, watching as the tip of his length was exposed between your lower lips while you coated him with your cum. The question of your willingness to mate with him was answered.

“So needy, like a whore…” He loved the blush that turned from pink to red on your cheeks. Still he didn’t give you what you wanted, not fully, deciding to return your teasing. His hips pressed into yours, the head of his dick rubbing against your clit as he rolled his hips, leaving his hands to pinch your nipples again. The yelp of pleasure was so beautiful to his ears, he even tilted them to hear you more clearly. He wanted to listen to it forever.

“Pitiful human… Do you want it?” The sway of his tail gave away his excitement, though his pulsing, flushed cock said just as much. He came to hover over you, his face so close to your own as his hips pressed more snugly to your own.

“Yes, please.” A flick of his ear was your only answer, and despite he aroused expression you could tell he wanted more. “Please, Giyuu, I need you.” Yet he still didn’t fill you, but he looked entertained. With a huff your eyes shut and head rolled back, unable to face him as embarrassment consumed you. “Please fuck me, Giyuu. Please, please, please I need it.”

“As you wish.” One hand slipped behind your head, urging you to look up at him rather than away, the other aligning his cock with your entrance. He wasn’t shy to trace the head of his length over your pussy lips, nudging the tip over your clit, circling your entrance and prodding just enough to make you whine.

“Look at me while I breed you.” At his command your eyes trained to his as his length pushed into you, reaching areas within you that you didn’t know existed. It didn’t leave you with enough time to even consider what he said. Breeding? Was this his mating season? Really all that you could focus on were those deep blue eyes, gazing at you as he bottomed out, making you sigh in pleasure at the full feeling within your core.

“You feel good for a human.” A testing roll on his hips followed and you could feel every ridge and vein on his length. You couldn’t help the quiet moan that slipped from your lips, not that he minded hearing your please. After a few teasing pushes he found a spot that made your legs tremble just so lightly, but it was all he needed to know. Pulling back gently he stroked your clit with the pad of his thumb before snapping his hips hard, abusing the tender spot within you.

“My pitiful, little human likes this? You like being fucked by your God?” The nods answered him, as well as your breathless whimpers. “Do you think you’ve earned my knot?”

The look of pleasure mixed with confusion was delightful for him. He could surprise you and that made things even sweeter. But as it stood you were clenching in him far too tightly to even be able to push his knot in without hurting you. It didn’t deter him though, if anything he redoubled his efforts of pleasing you.

His clawed hands moved your legs from his hips to over his shoulders. Such a minor change had you shaking below him as he pushed in deeper but he wasn’t done yet. He moved over you, laying his forehead against yours while folding you in half to take him in.

“You look so pretty in a breeding press.” The position left his hands free as he rested on his elbows and he planned to use that to his advantage. One hand dove into your hair, wrapping the locks around his fingers and tugging. His free hand slipped under your rope collar to apply pressure, just enough to turn your face a pretty flushed hue of pink. Choked moans graced the air before him but he knew he needed you to cum before he lost his control.

He humped you, fast and deep. He knew he should do more, but the press of the entrance of your womb to the tip of his length called upon his need to mate. It was pleasant to see how much you enjoyed it, how you shook below him as he pressed into spots you never imagined would bring pleasure. Unconsciously your arms circled him, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulder blades as you body clench around him.

“That’s it, be a good brood and cum for me.” He felt your body shift, rolling your hips into his as your moans filled the temple. His hand on your throat tightened as you eyes closed. “Look at me when you cum, whore.”

It was all you needed to be sent into an earth shattering orgasm. His blue eyes were so commanding, his form unyielding as he humped you through your release. The fluttering of your inner muscles was interrupted by a new feeling, alarming as it was pleasurable. Your entrance stretched until it swallowed what was pressed into it,.the process blending pain and pleasure.

“For a human you took an Alpha’s knot so well.” the hand on your throat eased it’s hold, letting you breathe freely as you walls clenched around what you assumed to be his knot. His breathing was ragged and despite being locked within you and buried to your deepest depths he still humped you.

You sounded unreal to yourself, the cries of pleasure so intense you couldn’t imagine feeling such a sensation in your life. The head of his cock was snug against your cervix, the pressure and gentle variations from his humping pushing you to cum again so soon after your last release.

“What a dirty girl, getting off on being bred.” The comment was followed by a deep groan. A hand yanked your head to the side, leaving your neck exposed to him. Just knowing he was in control pushed you to the edge as his lips teased the marks he left along your neck earlier.

“ Just like an omega, so needy and submissive.” With that he bit into your neck, holding you perfectly still as pain washed over you. Despite the pain your climax rushed over you, making your body shake violently below him as you sang broken moans for the God. The fluttering of your walls caused his release as well. Cum painted your insides as his body trembled, but his strong hands held your shaken forms together as the subsiding clenching of your inside eased him through.

His teeth released your neck, leaving a bruise and smears of blood behind. While he knew you were a fucked mess, in a daze and completely exhausted, he couldn’t help but smile down at you. The God kissed the bite mark on your neck, licking any blood off your skin.

“You look so beautiful with my mark on you.” You eyes, as glazed over as they were, looked up to his. Hands smoothed over your hair, still keeping it from the bite to avoid any issues as it healed. Even as you fell asleep and his knot subsided he stayed within you, enjoying your warmth as he laid on you soft body. Tenderly he kissed the bonding mark, smiling as your light twitch during sleep at the contact.

He had to admit, his new mate was the best gift the humans had given him.

[libraryscarf]

once like this (t) 4.5k words

Galo did not expect to meet an angel at the bus stop.

But then, not many people expect to meet an angel anywhere, bus stop or otherwise. Most people go entire lifetimes without meeting angels.

All of them, in fact.

Until now.

1.

“‘S’cuse me?” Galo said, because he couldn’t very well say anything else.

The young man standing in front of Galo repeated himself obligingly.

“I am an angel.”

Galo gave him what he hoped was a flattering once-over.

“Well…you do look…um.”

The young man who called himself an angel did not seem either flattered or offended by Galo’s stuttering. In fact, he looked a bit bored with the whole conversation.

He was quite a bit shorter than Galo, and he seemed…translucent, somehow. As though he were more an echo of a person than the real thing. He was remarkably pale. He had a pale, angular face, and pale, silky-looking hair.

The only part of him that wasn’t pale were his eyes, which were a fierce, bloody pink. That couldn’t be healthy, Galo thought. Conjunctivitis, perhaps?

“You do not believe me,” said the young man who called himself an angel.

Galo’s eyes went very wide.

“Oh. You’re serious?”

“Of course I am serious.”

“Like, an actual angel?” Galo prodded “With wings and shit?”

The young man nodded. Galo needed a moment to process this. He needed several moments.

He could call Aina. She would probably know what to do.

“She would tell you to call the police.”

Galo reeled backward. “Can you read my mind?” he demanded.

“No,” said the angel. “But I know what you usually do in unprecedented situations. Right now, all of your friends would tell you I am delusional, and that you should call the authorities and get away from me as quickly as possible.”

Galo hesitated, then asked:

“Should I…do that?”

The angel looked him square in the face with those ferocious, beautiful eyes.

“That is your choice.”

Galo felt hot, from the tips of his toes to the very top of his scalp. He suspected that had more to do with this stranger’s devastating attractiveness than with his alleged divinity.

He cleared his throat.

“Can you prove you’re an angel?”

“I could, but it would destroy this body.”

Galo inhaled sharply.

“You would die?”

“No,” said the angel. “I cannot die. This vessel, however, can.”

An expression flickered across his face; if Galo trusted his eyes, it was almost a smile.

“As a general rule,” the angel said, “the human body does not enjoy housing a pillar of divine fire.”

Galo wasn’t sure if he should laugh or not. He tried to do both at once, which resulted in a sort of choked snort.

“We can start somewhere else,” he suggested. “Do you…have a name?”

The angel considered this for a moment.

“I did not give myself a human name,” he admitted. “It seemed unimportant.”

“Unimportant!” Galo repeated incredulously. “But it’s—it’s you! It’s the first gift you get in your life! You should give yourself a name. I can help you.”

The angel’s lips twitched again. Galo wondered, if under the right circumstances, he might hear him laugh.

“I do have a name,” the angel said. “A celestial one. It’s not exactly…friendly to human ears.”

Galo puffed his chest up.

“My ears are up to the challenge.”

The angel raised one pale eyebrow. Then he opened his mouth, and Galo’s vision went blurry. His head began to ring; it felt like all the air in his chest was being pressed out of him.

Then, everything went white.

When Galo woke up, he was lying prone on the bus stop bench. Something hot and metallic ran sickeningly down the back of his throat. He coughed, wetly, and realized his nose was bleeding.

The angel knelt next to him, and the expression on his face was no longer hard to read. He looked absolutely horrified.

“Are you all right?” he asked, as soon as Galo opened his eyes.

Galo sat up, wiping his nose off on his shirt. His head still seemed to echo with that otherworldly bell.

“Yeah!” he said. “That was cool as fuck! That’s your real name?”

The angel regarded him with narrow eyes.

“Something like that,” he said.

“I’m not sure I can pronounce that,” Galo admitted. “So I’m gonna think of something else to call you. Hey, our bus is here!”

: : :

Keeping an angel in his apartment proved to be more of an ordeal than Galo anticipated. This was complicated by the fact that, despite claiming to be a near-omniscient heavenly entity, Lio had no idea how to use a sink, or a toilet, or a stovetop.

(The name was Galo’s suggestion. “I think it sounds kickass,” was his argument. Lio had agreed.)

“For an angel, you sure seem hellbent on hurting yourself,” Galo muttered, snatching Lio’s hand away from the gas range for the third time that evening.

“I am merely researching.”

“Yeah?” Galo stirred the marinara sauce with unnecessary aggression.

“Can you go research on the couch, or somewhere else where you won’t burn your fingerprints off?”

“I don’t have fingerprints,” Lio said. He waggled his hands in front of Galo’s face to demonstrate that he did not, in fact, have fingerprints. The pads of his fingers were as smooth as glass.

“Damn,” Galo said. “You could really confuse some detectives.”

Lio blinked. “Are you suggesting I carry out a crime?”

To Galo’s horror, he actually seemed to be considering it.

“It would be a very new experience,” Lio murmured. “I would, of course, have to take precautions.”

Lio did this sometimes. He seemed to forget that the things he said inside his head and the things he said outside of it were not one and the same. It worked the other way too. He would occasionally wait for Galo to answer a question that had not been asked aloud.

Galo wondered if telepathy was a thing angels had. He swallowed hard, and looked deliberately away from Lio’s soft hair and pretty shoulders. He really hoped it wasn’t.

“We’re not going to commit crime,” he stated firmly.

“Of course you aren’t,” Lio corrected. “I was referring to myself.”

Galo pointed him sternly out of the kitchen.

“Go sit on the couch and watch TV until you stop thinking about setting your hands on fire or breaking the law. We’re going to have a nice dinner.”

Lio’s forehead wrinkled, cutely. Most of the things he did were cute, which made Galo miserable.

“You know, of course, that I do not need to eat,” he pointed out.

“And I still don’t care,” Galo retorted. “You can’t just sit around my apartment not eating.”

“Why not?”

“My conscience won’t allow it.”

“As an angel, I overrule your conscience,” Lio said. “By quite a lot, I might add.”

Galo dropped the spoon back into the saucepan.

“And there’s that.”

He spun to square off against Lio, hands on hips.

“I want answers.”

Galo tried to sound mad. He really, really did. But Lio was hard to be angry at. Negative emotions seemed to slide right out of Galo’s brain when he looked at him. It was like Lio emanated a calming, gentle aura that hung about him like a golden curtain. When Galo tried to look through it, he felt like he was on the verge of seeing something too good: too relentlessly beautiful to exist.

The whole situation really was a pain in the ass.

Galo fixed his eyes a little to the left of Lio’s face, trying to evade direct confrontation with the pleasant, tempting warmth that tickled the edges of his psyche.

“So if you’re an angel,” he said, slowly. “Why did you show up to me, specifically? Is this some It’s a Wonderful Life shit?”

Lio didn’t have a ready reply to that, which fueled Galo’s suspicions.

“I don’t understand what you’re asking,” Lio said stubbornly.

They had been dancing around this ever since the beginning: days and days of simply not talking about it.

Now, it suddenly seemed to Galo that this wasn’t something he would normally do. He wasn’t often the type to look at his feelings sideways.

On the heels of this thought, he realized: it must have been Lio’s influence. That sweet, irresistible halo of warmth depositing a steady stream of pleasant chemicals into his brain. Galo hadn’t wanted to talk about anything uncomfortable—not with the way Lio’s presence made him feel.

Now that he knew that, Galo was pissed.

“Not cool of you to dope me up with your weird angel pheromones, dude,” he said tightly.

Lio looked a bit alarmed, and the cloud of seductive warmth around him dropped instantly to a dull fizzle. Galo winced as the comforting glow in his head faded, replaced with awkward reality.

“I…I apologize,” Lio said. “I wasn’t…strict enough with myself. I too am learning how this works.”

“I want you to start explaining shit,” Galo said bluntly, before his own, entirely human reactions to Lio surfaced and caused any problems.

“What kind of shit would you like explained?” Lio asked meekly, his mouth pursed in a charming pout.

Galo narrowed his eyes. So the angel could play dirty.

“What are you really doing here?” he demanded. “And if I think you’re lying I’m gonna send a prayer direct to God himself and narc on you.”

Lio’s nostrils flared in what Galo chose to believe was amusement.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he pointed out.

“No, you just distracted and misdirected me. You started glowing all nice and everything just…slid out of my head.”

Lio maintained his staring contest with Galo’s chin, even as his own eyebrows drew together. It was the first time he had really displayed worry, and despite Galo’s demand for honesty, he wanted desperately to smooth those furrows away.

“I was hoping to curb your curiosity for your own safety,” Lio admitted. “I intended to tell you—afterward.”

The way he said the last word made the bottom of Galo’s stomach drop away.

“After…what?”

Lio pressed his lips together and looked up—straight into Galo’s eyes.

Galo saw it then. A wrong fold in the fabric of his life.

He remembered another himself: a Galo identical to him, but at a different time. He remembered fire. He remembered the door behind him locked. He remembered suffocation. He remembered pain.

For a moment, Galo remembered dying, as clearly as if it were happening that very moment.

When he opened his eyes, his cheeks felt warm and wet. Lio raised a hand to his face, wiping off the tears and mucus with his own sleeve. The intimacy of the gesture sank into Galo’s heart like a bullet.

“I’m going to die,” he said.

And he knew, as he said it aloud, how true it was.

: : :

Despite knowing the fact of his future death, Galo was more concerned with who was responsible for it. Someone had trapped him there on purpose. Someone wanted him dead.

“That’s not important for you to know,” was Lio’s only response. Galo saw red.

“There’s someone out there who wants to—who succeeds in—killing me!”

“You aren’t going to die like that, Galo Thymos,” Lio said.

“Well, how about some other way?” Galo retorted. “How am I supposed to relax, knowing that someone wants me dead? How can you say that’s not important?”

Lio’s face closed off like a trap, which meant Galo had struck a nerve.

“I’m not going to look for revenge or anything like that, Lio,” he pleaded. “I just want to be prepared. Please.”

The muscles in Lio’s jaw worked as he fought with himself. Finally, he ground out:

“I have broken so many rules just to get this far,”

“Great!” Galo said happily. “What’s one more?”

The wave of aggravation rolling off Lio curled the hairs on the back of Galo’s neck.

“Never mind,” he amended quickly.

“Galo Thymos,” Lio said, in a somewhat strained voice. “This is the end of your involvement. I ask you—I beg you, to let me take care of the rest.”

Galo went silent for a few moments. When he spoke again, it was quiet. Hurt.

“Who would hate me that much, Lio?” he asked. “Are you really not going to tell me?”

Galo felt sick at the very thought of it—that he had offended someone badly enough to warrant that hatred. That just wasn’t his style.

He was the guy everyone liked. Even if he was ignored, even if he wasn’t respected, he could be liked. He’d done his best at this, and after all that—had he really failed?

Lio said nothing, but he cupped Galo’s cheeks in his hands and lifted his face. It felt lovely.

Until today, Lio had so rarely touched him, and his skin was feather-soft. That alone was almost enough to make Galo forget how miserable he was.

Almost.

“Maybe that was the way it should have happened,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Lio’s fingers against his face twitched.

“What?”

“Maybe…” Galo’s voice trailed off. His throat felt like a clogged pipe.

“Maybe if I did hurt someone that badly…then maybe that way was right.”

“No!”

The light touch on his face vanished, just as Galo jumped at the force in Lio’s tone. He looked up and gasped.

Thin, bat-like wings unfurled from Lio’s shoulder-blades. They were huge and black: a hungry, hot black that made Galo feel slightly dizzy. Simultaneously, two horns erupted high on Lio’s forehead: wickedly sharp, their color bright, fearsome white that cast the rest of the well-lit apartment into shadow.

“You will not die before your time, Galo Thymos,” Lio said. Except… it didn’t sound very much like Lio anymore. His voice seemed to come from everywhere in the room, and the floor trembled.

“I will not let you.”

Galo could only stare, awestruck. When he found his voice again, the wings and the horns were gone. It was just Lio again, sitting there innocently like nothing had happened.

“Is that why you’re here?” Galo asked, promptly shoving the impossible vision aside to be dealt with later. “To prevent my death?”

Lio avoided eye contact. He hadn’t yet mastered the human art of lying. Despite the telltale silence, Galo had to believe there was another reason. Angels didn’t simply fall to earth to save one life.

“Let me guess,” he said, adopting a melodramatic attitude. “You’re here on a special mission to prevent global conflict! You have been assigned the critical task of protecting Galo Thymos, whose tragic and early death sparked riots all over the world!”

Lio didn’t laugh; he gave Galo a hard look.

“You do not seem to understand the value of your own life,” he said.

Galo shrugged.

“In my line of work, dying is part of the contract,” he said lightly. “But…I did kind of hope I’d be able to put out a few more fires before it was over.”

Galo’s rueful smile slid off when he looked at Lio again. For the first time since they had met, the angel looked furious. His eyes were pools of molten heat.

“How dare you,” Lio hissed. “How dare you, Galo Thymos?”

Galo’s mouth flopped open, uselessly.

“Huh?”

Lio stood, and for a moment Galo worried he was about to sprout wings and horns again. But the only thing he did was keep glaring down at Galo, rage peeling off him in terrifying, invisible waves.

“You would die alone,” Lio said cruelly. “You would be mourned by the few who know you, and then you would be forgotten. This does not bother you?”

“It sure doesn’t, now that I know heaven exists!” Galo shot back.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew it was foolish to escalate the argument, but he was tired of being scolded, even if it was Lio—beautiful, wise, immortal Lio—doing the scolding.

He stood, and was pleased to note that despite the angel’s formidable aura, Galo was still significantly taller.

“Typical Galo Thymos,” Lio said. His eyes were narrow slits of fire.

“Arrogant, irresponsible, and reckless.”

He turned, stalking out of the room, and Galo was left with a heaviness tugging on his heart that he had never felt before.

: : :

Despite his swagger and his bravado, Galo was afraid of many things.

He was afraid of hesitating during a crisis. He was afraid of losing the small group of people he considered friends. He was afraid of taking any action, making any decision that might dishonor the great man who had saved his life. The great man who stood before him now.

Kray Foresight grinned down at Galo like a lunatic, his eyes blazing red through a haze of smoke. The pungent scent of melting metal hung around them like a poisonous shroud, stripping away the inside of Galo’s lungs.

“I certainly didn’t expect you to make this so easy,” said Kray. “But you are, if nothing else, predictable.”

Galo was without gear, without matoi, without backup. He had already been inside the building when the fire started, just two floors down from the governor’s office. When smoke began pouring into the room, Galo realized that it was here.

This was the place he died. This was the man who killed him.

He thought he knew now what Lio meant, when he said dying alone was something to fear.

Kray looked down at him, the smoky shadow of his immense form filling the doorway. His eyes burned with insane, festering hatred as he looked at Galo choking on the floor. Then, wordlessly, he shut the door, and the lock clicked into place.

Galo tried to cry out, but his throat was on fire, his lungs withering. He shut his eyes against the smoke, and felt the dark coming to meet him.

Then he was lifted, cradled gently against a strong, warm body. Galo was confused at this. Had he already died? Could this be the beginning of an afterlife?

“I am sorry for cutting it so close.”

Lio’s voice came from nearby, the tone of it jagged with distress. To Galo, it sounded like every beautiful noise in the world.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “I ain’t dead?”

He hadn’t opened his eyes, but he knew from the lightness of his own heart that Lio was smiling at him.

“No, Galo Thymos,” Lio said. “You are not dead.”

Galo laughed aloud at that, even though it hurt. He was giddy from the adrenaline, the pain, the endorphins.

“What’s with that?” he muttered. “Why is it always ‘Galo Thymos’ this, and ‘Galo Thymos’ that?”

Lio seemed to relax as soon as Galo began complaining. “Is that not your name?” he asked innocently.

“It is! It totally is. But my friends just call me ‘Galo’.”

“Is that what we are?” Lio asked very quietly, almost to himself. “Friends?”

Before he could answer, Galo realized they were no longer moving. He peeled his smoke-crusted eyelids open. That was when he started to yell.

“Lio!”

“Yes?” said Lio, bewildered.

“We’re a million miles in the air!” Galo hollered.

“Two point eight, actually.”

Galo clung to Lio’s torso, his mind in ruins from trying to make sense of what was, quite obviously, a view of Promepolis from cumulonimbus height.

“Oh my god, we’re gonna die,” he muttered. “Oh my god, we’re totally, definitely, absolutely going to die. Holy shit.”

Lio’s laugh was a gorgeous sound, but Galo was too busy panicking to appreciate it.

“You really think I rescued you from a burning building just to send both of us plummeting to our deaths?” he asked, still chuckling.

“Yeah, actually, I do think that!”

Lio gently began untangling Galo from the protective pretzel he had tied himself into around Lio’s body.

“You can stand, you know,” he said, but Galo just gripped more tightly.

“I really gotta remind you that you’re the angel here?!”

Lio dropped him.

Galo gasped; he expected to feel the air rushing out of his lungs as he shot toward earth. But instead, he was standing up. It was as simple as it was impossible. There he was, standing on nothing at all.

Galo stared between his feet, every muscle screaming in panic. He squeezed his eyes shut again.

“Please don’t tell me this is some ‘believe in it and it’s real’ shit,” he groaned. “Because I am not good at controlling my thoughts.”

Laughing again, Lio said: “I know this about you, Galo Thymos. Do I have to remind you that I am the angel here?”

Galo forced himself to open his eyes. He looked from the distant ground back to Lio, then from Lio to the ground. He looked back at Lio, and his brain point blank refused to acknowledge what he was seeing.

In all the ways one might expect, Lio looked exactly the same. But he was another creature entirely. Galo saw, flickering at the edges of his vision, a massive, winged shape that seemed to be made entirely of fire.

He blinked a few times, but despite its size, the flaming, winged form managed to escape his direct gaze, and searching for it strained his eyes. But Galo knew without a shred of doubt that Lio was, somehow, both beings at once.

“I cannot let you see my true nature,” Lio said in answer to Galo’s wordless confusion. “I do not believe you would survive.”

Galo bristled.

“But I’m—”

Lio held up a hand to stop him. “Yes, despite being the great Galo Thymos. You need to comprehend at least nine more dimensions before you can behold my full glory.”

“I bet I could do it.”

Galo couldn’t believe the look on the angel’s face at his challenge. Lio was smirking.

“Do you really?” he asked dangerously. “I couldn’t even tell you my real name without half of your pitiful little organs exploding.”

But that smirk had Galo fired up. This, he wouldn’t lose.

“Try me.”

A few seconds later, Galo woke up, feeling the warm, salty trickle of blood out of his nose. Lio was crouching over him, his face torn between amusement and concern.

“Are you convinced now?”

“Okay,” Galo said sheepishly. “Maybe nine dimensions is still above my pay grade.”

He wiped his face, but then realized the blood was already gone. Moreover, his desiccated lungs now felt full and healthy. His scorched clothes were whole and clean.

“You’re, uh, burning a lot of that angel fuel on me right now,” he said. “Where was all this generosity when you first showed up?”

An odd expression flickered across Lio’s face.

“I had to be cautious,” he said. “I could not cause too much of a disturbance as long as your death was a variable. But now it doesn’t matter.”

A chill rippled through Galo’s stomach.

“What does that mean?”

Lio smiled and shook his head. He helped Galo sit upright, then lowered himself beside him. It was just the two of them, perched on nothingness.

At the periphery of his senses, Galo felt the presence of the “real” Lio. His head hurt at the idea of that enormous, incomprehensible entity manifesting as the beautiful young man next to him, feet dangling into emptiness. But Galo, above anything, wanted to perceive that true, divine shape. He wanted to show Lio how capable he was of understanding him—how willing he was to learn.

“I want you to look at the sunset now, Galo Thymos,” Lio said quietly.

“I wanted you to see it once like this.”

: : :

“I can’t come back with you.”

Galo frowned. The words didn’t immediately make sense to him. Of course Lio was coming back with him. Where else would he go?

“Why not?”

Lio gestured to the city beneath them, dappled with the shadows of clouds.

“This is as close as I can get.”

“But…you’ve been living in my apartment!”

Lio nodded, and the peaceful, resigned look on his face made Galo feel sick.

“Why can’t you come back with me?” he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Lio turned his head to look at Galo. The warm, dying colors of sunset made him look more human than ever.

“Remember what I said about the fragility of this body?”

Galo stared at him numbly as the pieces fell together. The Lio he had known—the Lio he had come to love in the fierce, desperate way a person can only love something temporary—was gone.

“You sacrificed it to save me,” he said. “Didn’t you?”

“It is good this way,” Lio replied. “I couldn’t have stayed forever.”

“Why not?!” Galo blurted out. He was so angry, it was so desperately unfair. “Why couldn’t you?”

“Because…I’m in trouble.”

Lio’s tone remained light, but Galo knew it was terribly serious.

“I ran into some friends earlier, at the Foresight Foundation building.”

The way Lio said “friends” led Galo to believe they were quite the opposite.

“They made it very clear that if I saved you, I would suffer for it later,” he said with a sigh. But rather than looking at all concerned for himself, he glanced guiltily at Galo.

“That’s why I took so long. I am sorry. Again.”

Galo could only stare. Lio looked so young and golden, it nearly broke his heart.

After a few moments of unbearable silence, Galo asked in a quiet voice:

“Are you going to tell me now? Why you saved me?”

The angel smiled at him, warmer than light itself.

“You still have to ask?”

2.

Galo goes grocery shopping on a Thursday night.

He buys six frozen pizzas and twelve cans of dog food. He slings the bags over his arms and jogs out into the brisk night air. Ever since he moved deeper into the city, the sidewalks have never been empty. He weaves in and out between slower walkers, calling pleasant greetings to those he recognizes. Despite his better judgment, his eyes follow a head of pale blonde hair until it is out of sight. Another stranger, he thinks.

Galo takes the subway to a stop near his apartment and disembarks. The station is much less busy than usual, and although he doesn’t mind a crowd, it’s nice to hear just his own footsteps echoing against the tile.

Six years have passed since Kray Foresight was charged with first-degree arson. To Galo, each of those six years is a gift.

He almost doesn’t notice the slender silhouette leaning at the top of the stairs. His arm bumps their shoulder, and he utters an automatic apology.

Galo takes another two steps. He stops. The bags of groceries fall out of his arms, cans clattering across the concrete. He doesn’t want to turn around. If he doesn’t ruin this illusion, maybe it will last a bit longer.

From behind him, he hears a voice: achingly lovely, and as familiar to him as his own.

“Are you always this rude, Galo Thymos?”

: : :

Most people go their whole lives without kissing an angel. But for Galo Thymos, on a warm Thursday night at an unusually quiet train station, things were very different.

: : :

fin

(author’s note: this piece was written for the “parallels” galolio au zine, which raised over $800 to donate to the National Black Justice Coalition. it was fantastic to be involved in the project and work with some amazing people!!)

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Secret Garden (SpicyHoneyMustard, stand alone, lemon)

Summary: Edge and Red are bodyguards for the Queen’s Judge, Rus, and they more than happy to watch over him.

In every way possible.

Notes:

Oh, man, I make no excuses for my writer's brain.

I've always thought that having the Judge be something otherworldly or divine was an interesting concept, so you'll forgive me if I explore that a little within my porn.

Tags: SpicyHoneyMustard, Fontcest, Fellcest, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Established Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LEMONY GOODNESS!!

Sequel to:

Showtime

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Truth be told, Edge probably should scold Red about cleaning his weapons out in the open, but he had to admit. The cold stare from a fierce skeleton sharpening a gleaming knife did help keep any gawkers at bay.

This section of the prayer gardens was supposed to be restricted for the Judge’s use, but looky-loos still managed to wander in from time to time, trying to steal a worshipful glance at him or beg for a hasty blessing. Perhaps if Edge’s duties didn’t involve keeping Rus safe from those very Monsters, he would have been more understanding.

Judges were awe-inspiring, their souls acting in divine symbiosis with the Angel. Their people set the Judge high upon pedestals as marvelous beings of blessing and light coupled with their darker side of judgment and retribution, and Monsters often looked upon them with reverence.

Once, Edge would even have felt the same, before he met Rus. Within five minutes of meeting their charge, he’d tripped over his lengthy robes and fallen on top of Red, sending them both crashing to the ground with an astonishing amount of impressively creative swearing on both their parts. Reverence was difficult to maintain in those circumstances.

Love, on the other hand…

Edge leaned against a nearby tree, taking in the view that by rights of being a Chosen guard belonged only to him and Red. Rus was sitting cross-legged on a woven mat, his plainer, everyday robes settled around him, sockets closed and hands resting loosely on his knees. His expression was one of serenity, his chin lowered towards his chest as he sat amongst the riotous flora and greenery of the hanging gardens, as lovely as one of the many nearby flowers.

Softly, Edge asked, "What is he doing?"

Red only shrugged and didn’t stop scraping his blade against the whetstone, even though it was probably sharp enough by now to sever an hour into a hundred minutes. "meditatin'. chattin' with his inner sanctum, communing with the judges of the past, becoming one with the ether. whatever the shit he does, who the fuck knows.”

Who the fuck knew, indeed. Rus tried to explain to them many times what it was like to share symbiosis with the Judge, to carry memories from all the Judges of the past along with his own. Frankly, Edge found the implications of it to be horrifying, to never be alone in his own head. It wasn't a role Rus had wanted either, he knew, from soft, pained confessions in the darkest part of night, whispering to them even as Rus trembled in their arms, haunted by nightmares that weren’t his own. But Rus was Chosen, and he tried so very hard to uphold the dignity of his station but—

A low snore carried over to them, Rus’s chin falling to rest against his sternum.

"Yes, he's very dedicated," Edge said dryly. He left Red to his menacing and went over to Rus, crouching next to him. He took a moment to puzzle out where Rus’s limbs were buried in the voluminous robes, until finally Edge was able to scoop him up into his arms. "Come on, love."

“hnnn?” Rus mumbled sleepily. His sockets barely opened, pale eye lights peeking out and the happiness in his lazy smile at seeing Edge warmed his soul. “hi there.”

“Hi yourself.” Edge ducked his head and took a soft kiss, tasting the surge of sharp sweetness that could only mean one thing. He drew back and murmured, “Your magic is building up again.” Acting as a symbiont for the Judge meant Rus always had a high level of magic, far too much for his body to process. The excess of magic needed an outlet and the simplest way was—

Rus’s grin widened, honeyed tongue flicking out to sweep lightly across his teeth. “is that an offer?”

“It’s my honor and my duty to assist with all your needs,” Edge told him loftily, if only to see Rus’s expression.

As expected, Rus made a face, skull twisting in distaste, “less of that would be great. i know it’s your byline, but i don’t really care what it says on the tin.”

The sound of gravel crunching heralded Red’s approach, a distinct sign that he’d wanted to be heard even as he chuckled, “honey love, it’s our job to take care of ya when you’re horny, so how’s about you two come down here let me get to work.”

“you sweet talker,” Rus said dryly. But he gave Edge a soft peck then allowed him to settle them both back down on the mat, tugging up his robes and spreading his legs.

The thin, skinny pants he wore beneath his robes were easy discarded, revealing slim, lovely bones, smooth and pristine, and the soft folds of his already formed pussy, the lips gleaming with eager dampness.

Edge sat behind him, pulling Rus back between his legs and hooking his ankles over Rus’s to keep him spread open as he dropped a hand between his femurs to explore those silky folds. Soft and warm, slicked with slipperiness that let him effortlessly accept two fingers inside even as Rus warbled out a cry, arching up into that touch.

Red sat down in front of them and already there was a simmer of desire in his eye lights as he watched Rus shiver and writhe under Edge’s careful fingering.

“Already so wet,” Edge crooned. His fingers moved easily in that wetness, sliding in up to the knuckles. “Were you having good dreams?”

Rus shook his head stubbornly, though he buried his face against Edge’s neck as he mumbled out, “was meditating, not…oooh!”

He broke off on a gasp as Red seemed to decide he’d had enough of simply watching. He ducked his head, his hot, clever tongue briefly sliding alongside Edge’s twisting fingers. Red pulled off with an obscene slurp to ask, “what was that, pretty? can’t hear ya.”

“don’t stop!” Rus groaned, hissing as Edge scraped his teeth lightly across his cervical vertebrae, offering a tantalizing hint of pain to war against the pleasure of his thrusting fingers.

“oh, we can do this all day, pretty.” Red bent again to lick his way up, eye lights on Rus’s face as he tongued at his clit teasingly before drawing back to lick the syrupy juices from his teeth while his hands went to his belt. The buckle clanked loudly in the peace of the surrounding garden as he roughly opened his pants, pulling out his cock. “sweet as honeysuckle on the vine.”

Rus laughed weakly, a lovely honeyed blush flooding his cheek bones. Edge couldn’t resist kissing it, a brush of his teeth over angular bone and honestly, how dare Rus be so beautiful, adorable shyness tangled up with bold need. He didn’t hesitate to spread his femurs wider, giving Red plenty of room to shuffle between them. “do you even know what honeysuckle looks like?”

“nope, this is the only flower i need.” His cock wasn’t as long as Edge’s, but the girth was impressive, stretching Rus’s lips as Red pushed inside and his extensive collection of clever retorts petered out as he moaned, “fuck, rus, you always feel so good.”

It was a gorgeous sight. Sitting where he was granted Edge a unique, obscene view of Rus’s pelvic inlet, allowing him to watch Red fucking their lover, his cock visible through honey gold magic as he thrust into the slickness of Rus’s formed pussy. Rus writhed between them, wordless cries and pleading getting louder as his spine bowed in an arch, his hips moving frantically.

“oh!” Rus whimpered out, his skull digging into Edge’s shoulder as he threw his head back, quivering and jerking as he found his first peak. It was wildly erotic, watching him writhe while those slender hands grapple desperately at Red as Rus shuddered and squirmed his way to an engulfing orgasm, from his curling toes all the way up to the gasping mouth that frantically sought out Edge’s.

“That’s one,” Edge murmured when Rus broke the kiss, his head falling to instead pant hot and damp against Edge’s collarbone. He soothed a hand down Rus’s ribcage, seeking out places he knew were sensitive to keep him riding that crest of pleasure. The rasp of his glove against bone coupled with the rhythmic slickness of fucking sang through the air.

“we keepin’ count, bro?” Red grunted. His thrusts slowed, moving shallowly, and Edge could imagine the clench of Rus’s walls around him, knew exactly how it felt to have them tighten exquisitely when Rus came.

“Not at all.” Edge nuzzled a kiss against Rus’s skull, tasting the sweet tang of his sweat. “I'm sure you'll do the best you can manage."

“if you two start fighting over me,” Rus panted, “no one gets to play.” It was warning with some teeth; he’d shortcutted away from them before and left them frantically searching for him, panicked over the loss of their charge while he waited for them stowed safely away in their quarters.

“aw, we ain’t fightin’, darlin’.” Red couldn’t reach high enough for a real kiss and settled for pressing one against the inside of Rus’s femur where it was drawn up, teeth clacking softly against the bone. “me and my bro know how to share our toys.”

His indignant reply was cut off by a startled moan as Edge reached down and took his clit between two fingers, stroking the swollen nub in time with Red’s renewed thrusts. His slim hips rocked in hitched little movements, his sacrum pressing dissatisfying against Edge’s still-clothed cock. That was fine, this was for Rus, and Edge was patient. Besides, the desperate, adoring noises that poured from Rus’s throat were a distinct pleasure all their own.

It took three more orgasms before Rus finally sagged back against Edge, weakly clinging as Red came to a shattered climax of his own, hips jerking even as the golden magic in Rus’s pelvis bloomed with crimson, his brother’s come flowering inside him. Red sagged down on them both and Edge took their weight easily, holding them until Red finally sighed, deeply satisfied, and carefully withdrew.

“You are so beautiful,” Edge murmured against the side of Rus’s skull. He was, utterly debauched with his slim legs akimbo, the delicate, swollen folds of his golden pussy tainted with crimson, like petals bruised by a satisfying storm. One that wasn’t over yet, because Rus shifted in his lap, his weakly coaxing hips grinding back against Edge’s aching cock where it pressed firmly to his sacrum.

With the fingertips of one hand, he turned Rus’s unresisting face to his, covering that teasing mouth with his own, swallowing his sighs even as he fumbled at his belt with his other hand. He was more than ready for his turn and he wouldn’t finish until Rus asked, until he begged, that throaty, gorgeous voice of his wrecked and pleading—

“My apologies to interrupt your sacred duties.”

The queen was only at the garden entrance and turned away, but Rus still yelped, scrambling out of Edge’s arms.

The sound of her voice was enough to deflate Edge’s desire instantly, as was his own inner anger that he’d failed to notice her approach. She could have been anyone and it was sheer luck that she was no danger to Rus. Even the divine couldn’t always protect a Judge, that was their purpose, his and Red’s. Their sacred duty, to safeguard him even at the expense of their own lives and if Edge could admit to himself in the privacy of his own soul that it was less the Judge and more Rus that he would willingly die for, the Angel hadn’t taken him to task for it yet.

A glance at Red confirmed he was simmering in his own self-blame, straightening his clothes with more force than was strictly necessary, moving to stand close to Rus, who was still frantically cleaning himself up.

The pants he’d been wearing earlier were sacrificed to mop up between his legs, crimson soaking into the pale cloth that was hastily shoved beneath the meditation matt. Rus grimaced in distaste as he jerked his robes down over his mostly clean legs.

“seriously, tori?” Rus groaned, even as he tried to smooth his robes into some semblance of order.

The wealth of amusement in the Queen’s voice might well have been enough for her to purchase another kingdom. “There’s no need for embarrassment, surely! It isn’t as if I don’t know—”

Rus interrupted, a touchy shrilly, “let’s keep up a polite fiction, yeah?”

“Of course,” the Queen agreed. “Whatever fairy tale you prefer. Perhaps Little Red Riding Hood?”

“no jokes about riding, tori, please!”

The queen only laughed softly. She, at least, never tried to force Rus to conform to expectations any more than necessary. From what Edge knew, they’d been friends even before Rus was Chosen, and whatever pedestal she kept Rus upon was low enough for him to easily step off whenever his duties weren’t called for. Unfortunately, those duties were often needed, and her amusement faded as she said, more seriously, “Again, I am sorry to interrupt, but there is a Judgment required.”

Rus stiffened, but offered no protest. In mere seconds, calm settled over his features, those pale eye lights fading away, leaving his sockets empty and dark, and the disorder of his robes seemed to fall into place, smoothed by unseen hands.

Reverence was no longer what Edge considered when he thought of the Judge. Indeed, his emotions were far more blasphemous, bordering on hatred. Even Rus’s voice was deeper, holding the weight of Judgement and none of Rus’s innate sweetness as he said, coolly, “I’m ready. Edge, you will join me. Red, please wait for me back at our rooms.”

Red’s expression closed off and he nodded curtly, turning on heel and heading back to their quarters. Once there, Edge knew he would ready things for their return. Hot tea, something light to eat, soft blankets piled high on their shared bed and pulled back invitingly. Preparing not for the Judge but for Rus.

Edge followed behind Rus as he strode out, the Queen falling into step beside him as they made their way to the Judgement Hall. His own magic was heightened, searching for any danger, any violent intent towards their Judge whose long strides were carrying him towards the one who required punishment, and that was where his attention would be solely focused until it was over. He was lit from within in a terrible beauty, a golden halo of light forming around his skull and dancing like flames along the slender bones of his fingers.

Monsters stared as they passed, some falling to their knees in muttered prayer, asking for blessings from the Angel that Judgment never need be passed over them.

Edge paid them no mind past checking for any threat, and if Edge’s soul ached to see Rus overtaken, knowing he was lost and lonely within the confining prison of being an avatar to divinity, he said nothing. This was his duty, the vow he’d taken years ago at the feet of the Queen and her Judge, and he would see it done.

And when it was over, Edge would still be there, him and his brother, helping Rus to find himself again, guiding him back home.

-finis-

Read the next chapter

[franziska-writes]

blackberry (1/2, second part in reblog)

warning: if you're sensitive to mentions of or reading about deceit, acting, teeth, general themes of romance, arguing, death, harm, manipulation, swearing/cursing/bad words, dramatized themes of danger, stress, fear, crying, mentions of food, negative self talk, poor and unhealthy coping mechanisms, fire, emotional masking, trauma, god/religion mentions, self blaming, oversharing, grandfather mentions, caps, no caps, then reader discretion is advised.

as I laid myself down to sleep that night, images of her flashed across my eyelids, and questions floated about in my brain like the remnants of light I saw when I closed my eyes. who was she? how did she know how to charm me so well? so intuitively? what was it about me that gave her such intimate access to my wants and desires? but then, as that question toppled off the heap of other such queries, there was a stillness in which I made a revelation.

it wasn’t anything about me in particular that allowed her entry into my mind—it was the woman herself.

I’d had my eyes on her all night, keeping careful watch after I narrowly realized what she was doing. I’d seen her change her colors like a chameleon or an octopus or something entirely otherworldly. her body language would shift to match and compliment whomever she was speaking to—where the sparks of playful rivalry took hold in one conversation, a childlike innocence possessed her in the next. and I had no clue how she could possibly come to have all these different, impossibly perfect qualities possessing her at just the right moment—up until I realized that she was the one possessing them.

this woman was a marvellous actor, far greater than any seen in film.

where film actors worked with a script and set motions and cameras ready to re-record any scene, she worked with real people, with real situations, with moments she had no choice to re-do.

and it was in this moment that her danger fully struck me: this woman, whom I’d all but fallen head over heels for the moment I’d met her, was a shapeshifter.

no, maybe not in the fantastical sense—but it was there.

the gleam in her eye, childlike and bright and new. the glint of chandelier light off her teeth, summoning and bold and terrifying. the shimmer bouncing off her lipgloss, romaticible and flirtatious and seemingly unknowingly breathtaking. she shot to stun.

it was all instinctively woven, all created on the spot from a single introduction alone, all seamlessly stitched together so well that you’d see depth where there was only darkness.

but then again, perhaps she was a siren.

the tantalizing pull when her eyes met yours, like you’d known each other your whole lives and knew no world without the other. the sweet lull of her voice, melting over every syllable like molten metal. the poetry that she spoke, like fire trailing down my limbs as she spoke to me and said my every desire out loud for only us two to hear……. the performance never gave up. she struck to kill, and oh, I think I let her already……

this woman.

this peculiar, dangerously endearing, disarmingly charming woman—this woman, whose eyes were hazelnut whilst also being lizard-green, whose hair was a shifting multitude of different shades of blonde, whose lips were just pillowy enough and whose cheekbones could cut more than glass and whose brows perked just in that right way—oh, dear god, had she enchanted me.

only for me to be told it wasn’t real, only for her to be told to give up the illusion, only for something realer and angrier and bitterer to rear her sharp-defined face for me to see as she laughed at my inability to see through her.

and even then, there was nothing.

only the cold shell of what was born into this world as a human being, but was now something entirely different—simply put: gone.

when I looked into her eyes around the others, they were hollow, hateful, devoid of any and all goodness or emotion or anything even remotely close to that undeniable spark that all life supposedly held.

but when she was out there—out there, doing her job, the one we’d brought her on for…...she shapeshifted, truly, and fully.

her eyes gleamed gold and brown and green and even red under the different lights. her mouth twisted upwards and rested downwards and was open enough for me to see her bite her bottom lip and glance over just to see me cry on the inside. her shoulders were lax and back and shrunk inward depending on just how much she was leading the conversation—though, no matter what, she always had complete control.

and now, as I laid myself down to sleep, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

how flamboyant and intoxicating she’d been to everyone at the dinner party, how she’d melted in through the cracks to form whoever she needed to be for them, how she’d caught the void in every person’s heart and filled it with illusions of her own making—god, I needed to know how it was so convincing.

and several weeks of using her talents to extract valuable information later, I’d know.

she’d had exactly the same baseline with me every time we met around the others: somewhat withdrawn, burnt-out almost, a faded capture of what she thought a real human being ought to be underneath all the sparkle and jazz-handing of showbiz. she was a performer, through and through, and even this was a performance—although, I got the sense that I was seeing something I wasn’t meant to: she was tired.

and finally, I’d have clarity on that, because I was left alone with her for the first time.

she’d just blown up on everybody, snapping off like she usually did until one of the group said something particularly choice that I didn’t catch. suddenly, the shell before me erupted into roaring flames—the way her voice deepened as she bellowed, the way her tongue slipped over every personally hurtful word she spat out at everyone, the way she rose up and was suddenly more physically imposing than I’d ever thought a person could be….! I was scared for my damn life—I thought for sure she would kill me if I looked at her for too long. and she did it all without breaking a sweat—her hands didn’t shake, and her voice never wavered or clipped, and her eyes were dry and her face was pale. she chewed every single person in the room out, assaulted them at their weak spots and threw the verbal equivalent of boiling hot acid their way—and she did this to everyone except for me. I thought I was lucky to be alive. I was glad for being ignored, and prayed to god that she’d forgotten all about me in the act of getting some apparently well-deserved insults out to settle in the dust of her past with everyone else.

but when she ordered everyone out of the room, I went to go with the rest of them—but she boldly said no, glared them all in the eyes and said that I could stay. when I looked back to my friends for some sort of excuse to go with them, to convey my complete and utter shock at her words, to beg them all through my eyes to get me away from this horrifying display of power so far beyond anything I’d ever seen in a person………….they just stared back. upset, and hurt, and also just as confused as I was.

they left me all alone with that snake—because by then, that’s what I’d been calling her: a snake. not based off any old garden snake or viper, but based off the serpent that convinced Eve to take a bite of the forbidden fruit.

based off temptation and willful deceit.

the moment the door shut and the group meandered away was the moment I felt the room change with her.

it was like the power being cut in the middle of a wild storm, only for the storm to be cut with it; it was silent. still.

and then, she gave a great sigh, and slid back into her chair which was turned away from me for reasons I could only describe as god’s sweet mercy on me.

I, slowly, tiptoed as silent as I could back to where I’d been sitting, but still stood because I was afraid I’d have to make a run for it.

the energy in the room was terribly unsettling.

it was like I’d just watched two strangers end a decades-long relationship in a quiet, deserted waiting room, and half of the pair had walked away and now I was left alone with the other half.

I kept my gaze fixed on her.

it was soon that I noticed just how run-down she looked—just how….different she was.

she was slouched over the desk with her head in one gloved hand, and her fingers were on the brink of carding through her hair. I could feel the stress radiating off her, and for the first time, it was something real, something substantial—I could feel it. it was so, so different to how she’d acted with me when we’d first met. she’d been charming and witty and smooth, and had fit herself into me like a puzzle piece. but now…..there was a noticeable difference. no longer did she seem to exude good and exciting vibes, the kind you’d find within the thrumming thrall of a party, but instead, she was just……….there.

she looked tired, worn out. looked like she hadn’t slept in days and it’d only just caught up to her.

eventually, this nightmare would soon change into a different nightmare—a minute or so after the door shut, she spoke to me, keeping her back turned to me and her face pointedly hidden from view.

“do you know why you’re still here?”

her voice was…..oh, dear god, it was strained, like she was fighting back tears with the small amount of strength she had left. but I was sure I knew not to comfort her—the others had told me just how professional of a deceiver this woman was, and I’d observed it to be true.

I fumbled so hard for an answer that I simply didn’t give one in my panic—but that was alright, because like the perfect actress she was, she seemed prepared to monologue.

“it’s because you’re the only one here who’s acted even remotely like a human fucking being.”

oh?

….oh…..

…………….oh.

oh, god.

“honestly, I—” she began again, cut off by some unheard thing I assumed was a suppressed cry. she took in a deep, faintly shuddering, breath, and continued. “—don’t know why I let them near me. all they do is make me feel like a villain. and I—know that I am one, but…..” and here was when she tried to mask herself with social relatability— “...just because I am one doesn’t mean I have to feel like one, ahah……..”

she fell flat.

she fell flat, and I knew that was wrong, wrong because I’d seen her in action: becoming part of other people in beautiful, polychromatic splendor, matching energies and mirroring body language and altering pronunciations and changing names and smiles and shapes.

but now…..now, she was monochromatic: captured in gray light, a beautiful intellectual—broken but full. full, now, for the first time before my eyes, because everything else I’d seen as hollow and empty. after all—lies were only lies, weren’t they? there was no truth in them, no genuine emotion, no…...anything, really, in my experience.

I felt spurred to comfort her—not because of the daydream she’d probably have rathered to pretend to be, but instead because I saw a glimpse of the human being inside of her.

“y-you’re…...not a villain.”

a sad huff of amusement through her nose as her whole upper half jolted just slightly, “sweetheart, you don’t even know me. everything you’ve seen has been a lie. you know that.”

…..I didn’t know where to go from there.

she was right. she was absolutely right. I had no idea who this frustrated, sad being before me was—but now, I…..I wanted to know. wanted to know her interests, her hobbies, her favorite book, her favorite television show, what joke made her laugh the most, or if she even genuinely laughed at all.

“...........how do you do it?”

my voice was feeble, small, like that of a rabbit cowering behind a great lion.

“how do I do what?” she responded after a short pause, voice clicking even with the smooth ups and downs of her vocal pattern. she really was tired…..if only she’d look at me so I could be sure—

“d-deceive.. like you do. how do—how can you create something so lifelike out of-of thin air? y-you’re lying every minute I see you, and-and yet, I—I-I’m tricked every time. ho-how do you do it?”

it was poorly worded, poorly phrased—but she picked up on what I really meant by it.

I had no clue how she could always know so much.

she laughed, darkly and quietly, with such bitterness that I could taste it like an unripe blackberry in my mouth—and then she turned her face so I could see it, and that was the moment something real began.

her eyes were misty, and her cheeks were flushed, and there was a smile stuck on her face by sheer inevitability.

when she spoke, her words—it’s so difficult to describe, but they evaporated like honey in the dim lamplight.

“there’s a drop of truth in every lie.”

it was simple, yet packed full of meaning, and my mind reeled as I had another revelation.

she wasn’t just playing a part, was she….?

“when I’m with people, I see these voids in them—what they want out of people, what their perfect compliment would be, what they want out of me. I see a void, and I fill it—it’s an instinct that I’ve sharpened to be useful over time.”

oh……

“but of course, no performance is perfect. my execution is only flawless because, to me, it’s a game of survival, and the slightest hair out of place means game over.” her eyes were cast down then, apparently unable to hold my gaze. was she that exhausted? “it drains me. I can’t be around people for very long as I am, but having to act every moment of it just takes more away from me. I’m tired. but I’m a good masker—it’s what growing up in my particular circumstances caused me to have ingrained in me. seared into my flesh and bone and brain….. I must perform perfectly because this to me is the art of survival—yet even so, no performance is perfect. I am more than a good liar. a good liar will feel his performance and give it everything he’s got—but I can do so much more.”

oh.

“with just a brush of my fingertips, I can get a man to weep at my feet. with just the quirk of a brow, I can drive a woman mad. with just the right word, I can draw out a person’s deepest secrets and intrigues. I can control any variable you want me to. I can dominate a conversation, I can be invisible in a crowd, I can make someone resent me. the only thing I’ve grown too much to do is be immune. I can control any situation without saying a word. I can control myself and my body and my responses at the drop of a hat. the only thing I cannot control……...are my emotions.”

oh.

“the moment I leave the conversation, more of me dies and fizzles out into smoke. I...know I could have everything. I could rule the damn world if I wanted to, I’m sure of it. I could have people and friends and enemies and rivals……...but I don’t.”

…….there was a lull there, as she traced the edge of the desk with a finger and cast her forlorn gaze over the carpet.

I’d been so enraptured by the mental pictures she painted for me that I’d completely forgotten I was here with her.

like the stammering idiot I was, I made myself speak up.

“wh-why…..why don’t you? is-is it because you don’t…..uh…..w-want people i-in your life?”

I could’ve cursed at the way her next expression made me feel—a look of anguish flashed across her face, and god, it was more beautiful than any of the lies she’d been before.

“yes, but also no. I…..believe me, I want people—I think that much is obvious, in how entangled my emotions become with my victims, but…...but I—”

a sad smile.

I could feel reminiscence in her eyes.

“I’m not cut out for people.”

...huh?

“wh-what d’you mean?”

she looked up at me, and—and for the first time, I saw a spark of life in her eyes. it made me want to do foolish things, made me want to jump and scream and laugh and cry and—

“I ruin them. I’m the perfect weapon, sweetheart: I’m built to ruin and destroy and conquer. I can override my own body’s signals and ignore my emotions and run for hours on empty. but people….” her brows rose and she looked off to the side, as though impressed and annoyed at the same time. “......people can’t do that. people fall to their emotions and make irrational and poor decisions and struggle to keep it together no matter how rehearsed they are. they drop when they’re tired and their functioning derails. they are not like me. they are soft, and I am sharp and callous. they are warm, and I am cold and mean. they are sensitive and careful with themselves, whereas I fling myself into traumatic situations on the daily even when I am hurt.”

I couldn’t think.

all I could do was process—twenty minutes ago, I’d barely been certain of her status as a human being, and now, she was spilling over in front of me.

and then I realized that she was cracking. breaking. faltering.

no longer was she a carefully maintained shell—now, now she was……..on the verge of tears…..

“there is a shred of truth in every lie that I embody. and my truth is my insatiable desire to be not alone as I have been all my life.”

I stood there in shocked silence for a solid ten seconds.

insatiable……….?

“wh-why...insatiable?”

she looked me dead in the eye and suddenly I understood how the ocean’s tides felt about the moon.

“because I won’t let myself be satiated. nor will I ever let myself be soothed, nor will I ever let myself be comforted.”

my eyebrows pinched above the bridge of my nose.

“why?”

“because that is the most dangerous act of all.”

I was confused. how could it be dangerous to—?

“if my emotions make me want people so desperately to love me when I am simply performing for them…..then I shudder to think what would happen to me if I allowed myself to relax into someone. it’s the same reason no one’s allowed to touch me.”

………….ah. I’d…..I’d noticed that.

no matter how physical my friends were with each other and with me, none of them ever came too close to her, and she actively kept herself at a safe physical distance from most people we encountered. I only steered clear of her because, if I was to be honest, I’d been scared of her up until this point.

even now, she intimidated me—but I was slowly coming to grasp a portion of who she really was.

“but…...but, surely, that- can’t be healthy.” I attempted to argue, feeling a dark weight settle over me. I never liked it when people hurt themselves like that on purpose.

a small, resigned smile found its way onto her face. she hadn’t looked at me for some time now. it was odd to see someone with such a big presence refuse to make eye contact…

“it isn’t.”

my brain paused to compute that.

“then—why do you do it?”

“survival. people get close to me, I hurt them, and they hurt me back, and then they leave. it’s a cycle. I’m simply protecting myself, because I know that the moment I am shown true kindness, I will be floored and malleable in ways you cannot imagine. another reason I wear so many masks—even if I am touched or on the receiving end of kindness, it is still never really me. simply a vision of what they think I ought to be.”

“.......o-oh……..” softer than a whisper.

“I don’t need kindness. I don’t need comforted, and I don’t need people. and so long as I am acting, I am safe from whatever could be.”

now, in this moment, I was feeling stupid. but not stupid as in the unintelligent kind—stupid as in the daring kind.

I’d just made up my mind on a lot of things. I knew what I wanted to do, and I knew there was no stopping my own nurturing instincts, and I knew I was one of those people she’d described earlier that fell constantly to their emotions.

“well, you’re...you’re not acting right now, are you?”

I phrased it simply, casually—like it was any old question without intent hidden under it like the mud under the plank of oak wood outside my grandfather’s home.

she squinted her eyes at me, like she was meant to be wearing glasses but had forsaken them.

“I………..n-no. no, I’m—not.”

she sounded more shocked than I’d been during this entire conversation.

“then come here.” I instructed her gently, taking a few steps towards her as if to show her it would be a joint effort.

she was reluctant and slow in her movements, but smooth nonetheless. (CONT'D)

[softestgentlest]

Lily & Harry - high school fanfic

Harry Styles.

Harry fucking Styles.

An egotistical, quick witted asshole with a silver tongue and easy charisma.

He's also irritatingly privileged; not only is he filthy fucking rich, but he's also extraordinarily intelligent, and to top it all off, positively, mercilessly, despicably gorgeous. As if he wasn't already dealt the winning hand, his otherworldly physical attractiveness afforded him the freedom to do whatever the hell he pleased, whenever, and wherever he wanted to do it.

And, of course, in some cruel twist of fate, he most often chose to utilize his influence by victimizing me: Lillian Mercier, a quiet, harmless junior, whose sole desire is to graduate ASAP, so I can move onto Cambridge University by the Fall of next year.

I'm on track to receive my diploma a year early, according to my guidance counselor, but I've got to keep my GPA above a 3.8 at least, if I have any hope of getting admitted into my uni of choice.

My mind is humming, sifting through upcoming exams, assignments, papers that need writing, and a number of other priorities as I open up my locker.

I'm just pulling out my SAT prep book, when a series of excited murmurs echo through the crowded hallway. A girl a few feet away turns, whispering to her friend, "I think my ovaries just exploded, dude. Look at Harry's haircut."

I roll my eyes, swapping the prep book with the AP English text that's currently weighing down my bag. I try to focus on my mental "to do" list, but I'm now annoyingly in-tune with the girl's conversation, unable to block them out.

"I know! How could he have gotten even hotter? And look at his outfit...like, he can literally make anything look good."

"Oh my goooodd dude, he's graduating this year. I honestly think I'll die, like, he's the only thing that makes this school tolerable."

"Shhhh, they're coming over here."

The girls go quiet, and I tense, keeping my eyes trained on the interior of my locker. Harry will be graduating at the end of the year, as he's a senior, and with that knowledge, I feel intensely relieved.

Even if I can't graduate early, he'll be gone, and I'll actually be able to enjoy my senior year.

A smile plays across my lips as I stretch to reach the top shelf of my locker, standing on my tippy toes. I'm 5'3, and these lockers were clearly built by men of average height, with little to no regard for high schoolers of smaller statures.

I know I threw some flash cards up there in the rush to make the bus yesterday, but even when I step up and onto the metal base of my assigned storage space, I still can't seem to-

I gasp, as I lose my footing and fall backwards. Luckily - or, maybe unluckily - my fall is broken by something solid. I hear a soft grunt, and large hands grip my waist, steadying me.

I pant, pressing a hand to my racing heart, when I feel something soft brush against the sensitive shell of my ear, "good morning to you too, clumsy."

I shiver, and pull away, immediately recognizing that deep, accented voice as it burns hotly into my skin.

Do not engage, I mentally remind myself, forcing my trembling hands to occupy themselves with the contents of my backpack.

He tssks, clicking his tongue, "Aren't you going to thank me?"

"Thanks." I concede through gritted teeth.

He chuckles, leaning too close for comfort once again, "it was my pleasure, Lillian." His voice drops an octave on the word 'pleasure,' giving it an unnecessarily sexual undertone, if only to get under my skin.

At the corner of my vision, I see his shadowed silhouette as he leans against the locker beside mine, tall and domineering as ever.

I ignore his presence, slowly zippering up my bag, and securing my lock, before reluctantly turning to face him.

The first thing I notice is the lack of hair. What had once been long, lustrous, chocolaty curls, is now shortened gossamer strands of hair falling over his forehead in a provocative, untidy tumble. The new cut exposes his defined jawline, and those sharp, light catching cheekbones.

As usual, he's dressed to the nines, somehow managing to make his unexpected attire look effortlessly appealing. Today, he's clad in a strange mix of professional, and bohemian pieces: a blue and white checkered wool jacket, a dark pinstriped suit, a red beaded necklace. He's got on bright pink socks, and white loafers, and his signature assortment of rings.

I clear my throat when he catches me checking him out, "Harry, I didn't know you could sew."

He looks perplexed, considering my assumption with furrowed brows, "I can't."

"Oh, then I suppose it was your mother who made that jacket from one of her tablecloths?"

He tilts his head to one side, and runs his fingers roughly through his freshly cut curls, "this," he snarks, smoothing his hands down the woolen fabric, "is a $2,000 jacket, love."

I roll my eyes, hitching my bag over my shoulder, and turn to walk away, only to come face to face with Mitch and Nick, two of Harry's equally asinine friends.

"Excuse me." I prompt. The two boys ignore me, smirking over my head at their scumbag leader.

I huff, turning back around, knowing full well that they aren't going to do anything unless he commands it. "I don't have time for this, Harry." I cross my arms, pursing my lips in annoyance, "I'm gonna be late to class, and so are you."

His mouth curves dangerously, drawing my attention to the pillow-soft push of his lips. "And we wouldn't want that, now would we, Lillian?" he pronounces my name so that it drips from his shapely lips leisurely, provocatively. "What with your big plans to graduate early."

Immediately, I recoil, meeting his expectant stare with wide eyes, "H-how...?"

"Oh, you thought I wouldn't find out?" He pushes off the lockers, Stepping closer, "did you know that you're GPA is just .01 points less than mine?" His voice is honeyed, sickeningly sweet - it sets off warning bells in my head.

I swallow nervously, taking a small step backwards, "I don't see what that has to do with my plan-"

"Oh, but it has everything to do with your plans." Again, he advances, but this time I hold my ground, tilting my head to meet his stare, "you see, we weren't competing before...not really. But, if you graduate ahead of your class and maintain that same GPA, well...Cambridge won't even look at me, regardless of my achievements, because you'll have the edge."

I blink, processing his words, "You want to go to Cambridge...?"

He quirks a dark brow, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

I'm dumbfounded, "But...but I-you...but-that's just ridiculous!" I nearly stomp my foot at the sheer absurdity of the notion, but opt to clench my fists at my sides instead.

He looks utterly amused, and leans a bit closer, a challenge in his eyes: "is that right?"

"Why would you want to go to Cambridge?!" I note how whiny my voice sounds, but I'm too distressed to care.

He's full on grinning now, his emerald eyes dancing with glee. "wouldn't you like to know" He purrs in that slow, sexy drawl, his voice dropping so low that it can only be heard by the two of us.

It is then that the bell rings, shrill and disruptive, tearing me from his trance-like stare.

I realize how close we've gotten, our faces perhaps six inches apart. I can feel the warmth of his body radiating off of him and wrapping around me. Before I can stop myself, I inhale his intoxicating scent: spicy and earthy and masculine, like cigarettes and pine and the leather spines of old books.

For a fraction of a second, my eyes slip shut...he smells so damn good.

Then, just as quickly, I blink, and step back, my heart racing in my chest. I did NOT just...

He straightens, raking his eyes over my trembling frame with an air of affected smugness. Silently, he steps the side, watching me as I collect myself, an embarrassing blush infusing my cheeks.

Slowly, I move down the hallway towards my class, uncharacteristically unconcerned with the possibility of being marked tardy. I can tell that he's following, as students all around turn to stare behind me. We're in the same English class.

My brain seems to have gone into overdrive, conjuring up insane reasons for why I'd smelled him and liked it enough to consider doing it again. Impossible. Harry's a prick. The bane of my existence. Sure, he's wildly attractive, but never have I ever been even remotely interested in him...sexually. So what the hell was that?

Why am I all hot and blushing and trembly? Why?! Especially after he'd dropped the Cambridge bomb! I mean, really? Of all the schools for him to choose, it had to be my dream school. And of the thousands of people I'll be competing with to be admitted, it just had to be him.

Harry's one of the smartest people I've ever met, and he's got the resources and connections to get into any school he wants. The chances of two kids from the same high school getting into Cambridge are absolutely zero, and whether I graduate early or not, Harry's a shoe in for a spot there - he's the ideal student: rich and intelligent and driven, with a shit ton of community service and extracurriculars under his belt, and with a number of published poems and short stories.

He'll take my spot there just by aiming his perfect white grin in the right direction. And if we were both admitted, by some miracle, that would be even worse! 6 more years with him?! I'd die. I couldn't take it. I'd-

"Ah!" I gasp, colliding with a tall boy for the second time today. My books fly out of my arms again, and I fall flat in my ass with a soft yelp of pain.

"Woah! Are you ok?" A voice asks, and I glance up to find a familiar blonde boy looking down at me.

"Um, y-yeah." I say, quickly moving to stand up. Like a gentleman, he reaches down, offering me a hand, and I take it, allowing him to pull me gently to my feet. "Uh, sorry about that. I wasn't paying attention..." I smile sheepishly,

"Oh, no, it's totally fine." He grins back, then kneels down to pick up my books. "As long as your ok."

"Really, I'm fine." I giggle, kneeling down to help. "Your Neil, right? I think we have psych together?"

He hands me my things, standing up, "close! It's Niall, and yeah, 6th period right?"

I nod, "Niall. Yeah, I'm Lily. I'm the one always shouting out the answers and then getting yelled at." I giggle nervously, feeling a little self conscious around this boy with pretty blue eyes and a kind smile.

He laughs, "well, I'm definitely not one to shout out answers. I'm terrible at Psych." He gestures for me to walk with him, and I do, "I'll walk you to your class, just to make sure your alright."

I roll my eyes playfully, but follow, "I already ran into you. Don't let me be the reason that your late to class too."

I lead the way to the English wing, and we joke lightly about our Psych teacher, Mrs. Campbell. By the time we've arrived, the bell has rung, and I know that he's going to be late because of me, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Hey," he calls out, just as I'm about to open the door to my classroom, "maybe you could tutor me sometime? In Psych? You always seem to be yelling the right answers, and I could really use the help..." he rubs the back of his neck nervously, and I can't help but smile at how cute he looks.

"It's the least I can do after running into you." I say, "let's talk in class later?"

"Yeah, sure!" He backs down the hallway, "I'll see you then, Lily!"

When I enter the classroom, there's still a smile on my face, and I quietly make my way to an empty seat in the back. My teacher, Mr. Gray, shoots me an inquisitive look, since I'm not one to show up late to my favorite class, but he doesn't call me out on it.

"Alright guys," he says, "while I was reading you essay submissions from last week, I noticed quite a few spelling errors, so I thought we might have a little bit of a...spelling bee today, just to see where we all stand when it comes to commonly misspelled words." The class groaned collectively, and he laughed, "nothing to worry about. This won't count for a grade, I just want a chance to see where everyone stands. It'll be fun!"

Mr. Gray proceeded to split the class into two groups, and two at a time, he called students up to the board, and in tournament fashion, the winner played the winner from the opposite team. I could tell that he was saving certain students for the end, since they would likely beat out all the competition, thereby depriving their teammates of turns. By the time it got to me, only a few students were left on the opposing team.

"Ok, Kim," he called to my competitor, "your word is Accidentally" Kim correctly spelled two words, and then swapped out with another teammate, Jamie, who only beat me on one word.

"Alright, this is it, guys. Last two. Harry, join Lily up front."

Immediately, my eyes found him, just as the rest of the class turned to watch him rising from his seat. He took a step towards me. Then another. I sort of shivered, watching him move, observing his long legs, slowly closing the space between us with their every measured step. There's something almost feline about it - the way he moves - very masculine...and very...sexual, if that makes any sense at all.

I averted my eyes as he took up the space beside me. Again, the drowsy scent of books and pine with undertones of coffee and tobacco invaded my senses, and I felt my knees threatening to buckle.

"Harry, your word is 'allegiance'"

I felt him smiling, tasted his smooth baritone, skating hotly down my spine: "A-L-L-E-G-I-A-N-C-E. Allegiance."

"Lily, controversy."

I spelled it correctly and held my breath, gazing stubbornly straight ahead.

"Harry, 'immediately.'" He did the same.

"perseverance"

"Accommodate"

"I-N-T-E-L-L-I-G-E-N-C-E, Intelligence." I glanced over at Harry, noting the look of intense boredom on his face as he stared off into the distance. Clearly, this was too easy for both of us.

"Too easy is it, Lillian?"

"Uh, w-what?" I snapped out of my reverie, glancing at Mr. Gray, who looked rather amused.

"If you think it's too easy, we can really put you two to the test. What do you think class?" Mr. Gray looked around, and the class erupted into excited giggles and shouts.

Realizing my mistake, I felt my cheeks flush hot with embarrassment, "oh I-I didn't m-mean to say that um...out loud sir..."

The damage had already been done. Mr. Gray grinned, clearly excited to have piqued the class's interest, "alright then, let's try....sacrilegious."

Harry, looking rather more alert than he had before, turned to look at me, holding my stare even as each honeyed letter fell from his lips "S-A-C-R-I-L-E-G-I-O-U-S" the flecks of gold in his eyes danced, embers crackling, glittering.

"Conscientious, Lily."

"Oh, um..." I quickly averted my gaze, glancing nervously at my trembling fingers, "C-O-N..." my heart wobbled in my chest. What's comes next? "...S-C-I-E-N-T-I-O-U-S, Conscientious." I want this to be over...

Harry chuckled beside me, low and slow. I felt his eyes on me. "bureaucratic." He spelled, quick as a whip, and all eyes were back on me.

"Bourgeoisie." Amidst the nerves and exhaustion, my stubbornness gave way to another correct answer. I won't lose to him. Not this, not Cambridge.

He managed "clairvoyant," "coalescence," and "kaleidoscope." I got through "lachrymose," "mnemonic," and "pharmaceutical," and then, finally, he messed up.

I heard it in his voice first, knew before it happened that I had won. Mr. Gray - once again proving himself to be my favorite teacher- threw "triskaidekaphobia" at Harry, and we both froze.

"T-R-I-S-K....A-D-E-K-A-P-H-O-B-I-A." Harry murmured uncertainly, sounding just as breathless as I felt. The class had gone silent, and I could hear my heart racing.

"Incorrect." Mr. Gray uttered, but before the class could erupt into cheers, he continued, "let me just say, Harry, Lily, that was extraordinary. Really, very good show." He slowly began to clap, and our classmates followed suit, whooping and jeering at Harry good-naturedly.

I turned to glance at him then, not feeling very excited about having won. I couldn't help the little gasp that escaped my throat when I saw his face. He had curved his mouth into a grin, ran a hand through his hair boyishly, a calculated carelessness slackening his features - but I saw it in the way his lips twitched, in the way his eyes glossed over and darkened to muted jade.

He's upset. I realized, moving closer without really thinking about it. He's really, really upset.

"H-Harry?" I heard myself whisper, voice trembling. Everyone had, by now, moved into their own little groups, all talking animatedly about the results of our little duel, so they weren't really paying us any mind.

His smile faltered - just for a moment - "good game." He husked, his voice raw. He held out a hand, quirking a brow, watching me with those expectant eyes.

It was then, in that moment, that I realized, very suddenly, that Harry is...beautiful. Like, proper beautiful, like earth shatteringly, mind numbingly gorgeous.

The realization hit me with such immense force that I had to grab his outstretched hand to keep from crumbling to the ground. "O-oh." My mouth parts on the startled little noise, and suddenly I'm very aware of the gentle press of his cold rings against my fingers, his large hand claiming mine, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he holds me. "Uh-huh." My response catches in my throat and comes out sounding like a strangled hiccup.

Quickly, I pull away, stumbling back a few steps, I tear my eyes from his face, flailing my hands around like a monkey.

What the fuck?

•••••••••

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART 2 💛

[awake-not-today]

SERENDIPITY

Yoongi X Jimin

Angst/fluff.

I couldn't get this out of my head and so I sat in my job and wrote a YoonMin fic for you guys.

If he was honest with himself, Yoongi wouldn’t be surprised. This had been a long time coming, pent up feelings bubbling at his core. It was bound to happen.

The problem was that he didn’t actually know when these feelings began. There wasn’t a particular moment he could pinpoint that he began looking at his bandmate in a different light, it just sort of happened. Slow, gradual, in a way that left absolutely no room for doubt in his mind. He'd fallen for him. And he'd fallen hard.

It could have been all those times he'd helped Yoongi, helping him with his gifts for fans, helping him during times he felt low. It could have been the times they just sat together, hanging out with the other guys. He wasn’t certain. But he remembered when he noticed things that he hadn’t before.

Like holding his hand for example, Yoongi loved to hold his hand. He loved holding everyone's hand, but for some reason his hand was best. It just fit so perfectly, so snug. It was like his hand was made to fit Yoongi’s, like it was always supposed to be there. Yoongi had looked down one day and it just hit him. This hand, so small, aligned with his in a way that nobody else's did. It felt right.

At first he assumed it was cabin fever, what with being around the guys constantly. At home, at work. There was barely a moment to himself. But that thought quickly diminished when he realized one day that he missed him. He'd been in the studio and he couldn’t focus. He was distracted. He wanted him there, he wanted to see him. And that realization made Yoongi sit back in his chair and stare at the wall ahead of him, brain going a mile a minute. He missed him, he couldn’t focus because he wanted him there with him.

And so, after a long reflection, he unlocked his phone and called him. His excuse was that he was hungry and didn’t want to eat alone, that he wanted some company. He didn’t dare say what he really felt, 'I want you'. They’d gone for sushi, and Yoongi had paid. “I’m the Hyung.” He'd told him, shrugging it off. The truth was that it was the only way Yoongi could really pretend, it was the only way he could appease the part of him that wanted it to be a date.

Things never changed between them, Yoongi wouldn’t allow it. He wanted things to stay exactly as they were, no matter how much he yearned for more. This got particularly difficult during a time when Jimin had filled himself with doubt. Yoongi had held him many times during that period, reassuring him that he was perfect, he was talented, he was beautiful. The words of kind comfort had slowly turned into sweet whispered confessions, but of course he didn’t know. Yoongi acted the good hyung, and the younger never caught on.

After that Yoongi began to notice more and more tiny things about his bandmate. The scrunch in his nose when he didn’t like something, the smoothness of his skin, the crinkles beside his eyes when he laughed. And that just made things clearer for him. This wasn’t a crush, a small and silly infatuation. No. This was love. Yoongi was in love with him.

But he'd never let the boy know. It was his secret. His burden to carry.

Or at least it was until now.

Yoongi stood under the stage and listened as Jimin sang his heart out, Serendipity closing out the show. It always made him happy to hear him sing this song, the words speaking volumes. ‘Let me love you.’ God, Yoongi thought bitterly to himself, please let me love you. He continued to watch on the monitor, eyes completely focused on the younger man. He was in love with him, so desperately in love.

The stage lights casting a soft glow over Jimin was so serene, and Yoongi could swear he was watching an angel. He looked eatheral, otherworldly, so untouchable and yet so close. Yoongi couldn’t look away, he couldn’t think. His mind completely blanked as his heart hammered against his chest. The song ended and Yoongi was moving, walking to where Jimin would be lowered beneath the stage.

It was like he'd lost all function, no, like he'd lost all control. His heart had taken over his brain and he couldn’t stop himself. Slowly Jimin appeared in front of him, beaming at Yoongi. He clambered down from the lift and hugged his hyung, frowning when Yoongi didn’t embrace him back. He pulled away, staring into Yoongi's face confused. “Hyung?”

“Jimin.” The younger reached out, placing a soft hand on Yoongi’s arm.

“What wro-“

He couldn’t help it. He tried to stop it. But his heart was in control now and there was no fighting it. Yoongi stepped forward, placing his hands on the sides of Jimin's neck, and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t passionate, they didn’t even move. And it was enough, it was enough to satisfy Yoongi's craving.

Velvet. That’s the word that came to mind as their lips connected, soft. And so, so right. It was like his lips were just made for Yoongi to kiss. But then his brain kicked in and he froze. No. No this is wrong, this is so wrong. And then panic. He stumbled back, letting his hands fall as he stared at Jimin with wide eyes, watching as Jimin raised a hand to touch his lips.

“I’m- I’m so sorry.” Yoongi ran. He ran past his bandmates, he ran past the staff. He ran until he reached the back room, slamming the door behind him and leaning against it as he tried to catch his breath and gather himself. He was stupid, fuck he was so stupid. He'd ruined everything, he'd broken the only thing he could cling onto. His heart had betrayed him. He started packing his things, hurrying to make sure he was done and out before Jimin could find him there. He didn’t want to face him. He couldn’t.

As soon as he'd gathered his things he was out the door again, heading to the cars as the voices of his members filled the corridor behind him. He made sure to ask for Jimin to be put in a different vehicle to him, getting himself some space to thing of what to do to fix his mess he'd made.

After what felt like an eternity the car door opened and Yoongi held his breath, only releasing it when he saw Hoseok climbing into the car with him. No words were exchanged, Yoongi staring down at his fidgeting hands. The car began to move and that’s when Yoongi let out a shuddering breath, tears welling as the whole situation hit him. He'd fucked up big time. He tried to keep it together, to hide what what was happening in his mind, but the gentle hand closing around his own had him breaking down.

“Don’t worry, Yoongi. It's going to be okay.” Hoseok’s voice was gentle and it made things so much worse. He wished he was mad at him, he wished Hoseok would yell at him. He wanted him to be louder than the voices in his head.

“I fucked up so bad.” Yoongi managed to choke out and Hoseok unbuckled his seat belt, sliding along the seat to take Yoongi in his arms and hold him. Yoongi heard him ask the driver to drive around a while longer, and he was grateful. Hoseok was buying time for Yoongi. He understood him.

“We’re going to get you through this. Whatever it is that’s happening, we'll help you. You're going to be okay.” Hoseok pressed soft kisses to Yoongi's hair and rubbed his back gently, holding him tight in his arms. It was like he was holding Yoongi together, and at that moment he truly was.

When they'd finally arrived back at the dorms everyone had thankfully gone to bed. Hoseok had given Yoongi one last hug as they’d approached his bedroom, smiling sadly as Yoongi went in and closed the door behind him. He didn’t bother to shower, instead getting into his pajamas and curling up in bed. His head hurt, his chest ached, and all he wanted to do was sleep. He didn’t turn as his covers were pulled back and his bed dipped. He felt someone climb into bed behind him and wrap and arm around his body and finally Yoongi moved, finding Seokjin in his bed.

“I’m here for you, okay?” Jin smiled, shifting to pull Yoongi closer to him. Yoongi buried his face in his Hyung's neck and listened to his breathing, allowing it to steady his still hammering heart, eventually dozing off.

The next morning Yoongi woke up before everyone else and quickly showered and dressed, heading out to the studio. He couldn’t face anyone, not after his display the night before. He felt utterly humiliated, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine how Jimin must feel. He tried to work on something, anything at all. But he couldn’t focus, his mind wandering to the way Jimin had stared at him, hand pressed to his lips. How he wished he could go back in time and change things, how he wished he had some self control. How he wished he could kiss him again.

It was night again when someone knocked on the door of his studio, fear taking over Yoongi as he shuffled over. He audibly sighed in relief to find Namjoon there, a bag in his hand. He stepped back, allowing Namjoon to come inside, locking the door behind him.

“I figured you must be hungry by now. You haven’t left the studio at all today.” Yoongi smiled gratefully and motioned toward the small leather couch, inviting Namjoon to take a seat. They sat in silence as they ate, each trying to gather the courage to say something. Finally Namjoon did, turning toward Yoongi and resting a hand on his back.

“You want to tell me what happened last night?” Yoongi opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t find the words. How does he explain that he had fallen for Jimin? How does he explain that the impulsive kiss was bottled up feelings that he'd harboured for longer than he can remember? He didn’t need to say anything though. The look in his eyes and the quiver of his lip told Namjoon everything he needed to hear. “Oh, Yoongi, hyung.”

And so Yoongi found himself in the embrace of another of his bandmates, crying into his shoulder and whimpering weak apologies, only to be shushed and reassured that things would be okay.

It was four long days before Yoongi saw Jimin again, coming face to face with him as he headed to the bathroom. In those four days Yoongi had mostly slept, waking to find a different bandmate watching over him each time he opened his eyes. He appreciated them all, each one providing comfort in their own way, none of them forcing him to open up. He'd gotten up in the middle of the night to pee, shuffling along the halls with tired eyes and messy hair, reaching for the handle only to have the door open and to see the younger man staring sadly back at him.

Yoongi said nothing, and Jimin simply stared, each wishing the other would speak. After a few moments Jimin looked down at his feet and stepped aside to let Yoongi pass him by, hiding the tears that threatened to fall. As Yoongi closed the door behind him he heard Jimin's voice, small and sorrowful.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

When he left the bathroom, he didn’t want to go back to bed. He wanted to go see Jimin, tell him he was sorry, tell him he loved him. His hands itched to open the door of the youngers room, but he couldn’t, and so he went to the kitchen. He made a coffee, inhaling the bitter scent with a smile, and wandered back through to the shared living area, picking up a blanket and sitting beside the window. He stared out into the night, wishing the stars could give him the answers on how to fix everything, knowing they couldn’t. He didn’t pull his eyes away as someone sat across from him, tugging the blanket to cover their own legs too. He just smiled, taking a sip from his coffee.

“I’m okay.” He muttered, knowing it would be one of the guys checking in on him. He was grateful, although he didn’t like when they treat him as if he was fragile. “Go back to bed.”

“Are you really okay?” The voice startled him, hands tightening around the mug in his hand, eyes widening as he turned his head to the owner of the voice. Jimin sat staring at him again, looking sadder than Yoongi could ever imagine he could look. He wanted to reach out and hold him, to take his hand and never let go. “Because I’m not, hyung. I’m really not okay.”

“Jimin, I-“ Yoongi didn’t know what to say. Where to begin. He looked down into his mug, staring at his reflection in the liquid, willing himself to be honest. Or to at least apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jimin shuffled closer, taking the mug from Yoongi's hands and placing it down beside them. His hands found Yoongi's and he gripped them tightly, eyes begging for an answer. Yoongi swallowed, trying so hard not to be drawn in by those beautiful eyes.

“Because I was afraid.” Yoongi wouldn’t look him in the eye, he couldn’t bear it. Instead he turned their hands over in his lap and studied every little detail. If this was the last time he'd hold them, he wanted to remember everything.

“Why would you be afraid? We’re you scared I’d re-“ Yoongi stopped him there, shaking his head. He knew he'd end up hurt, that’s the way this was always going to end. That’s not what he was afraid of.

“I was afraid of losing you altogether. I was afraid of losing your embraces, of your hands being untouchable. I was scared that if I confessed to you what I’ve been feeling I may never hear you say my name again.” Yoongi bit down on his lower lip to stop the tremble, blinking furiously to keep the tears back until he could be alone again. “I’d rather love you from afar and keep you as a friend than to lose you completely.”

“Hyung, I. You.” Jimin tried to form the words he desperately wanted to say, to formulate a coherent thought as he stared at the man before him. He should have just told him, he should have been honest.

“I may as well get this off my chest now since I’ve already ruined everything.” Yoongi took a breath, and then another, exhaling slowly before finally locking his gaze with Jimin's. Beautiful, he thought to himself, so fucking gorgeous. “I’m in love with you. I don’t know when it happened, I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly you're the only person I think about and it’s been killing me keeping this to myself. You have no idea how much you mean to me. You've consumed my every waking thought, you're in my dreams when I sleep. I can’t focus because each time I close my eyes it’s you I see. Jimin, Park Jimin. I am so fucking in love with you.”

Yoongi squeezed the small hands in his one last time and stood, stepping over the mug of coffee as he started toward his bedroom. It didn’t feel the way he expected, he though he'd feel lighter. The anchor of his feeling being taken away as he spoke them into the air. But all he felt was pain, his heart aching with each step he took away from the younger man.

Then suddenly he couldn’t move anymore, he was being held in place. Arms wrapping around his waist as hot breaths fanned the skin on the back of his neck. Yoongi closed his eyes, waiting for Jimin to let go, but he didn’t. Instead his grip tightened. “Don’t go. Don't I get to say something?”

“Jimin, please let go.” And Jimin did, only to step around Yoongi and embrace him from there instead. Yoongi closed his eyes and sighed, wishing he could disappear. This hurt too much.

“Yoongi, hyung.” Jimin's voice was barely above a whisper, lips by Yoongi's ear, making him shudder a little. “You don't get it. You're so blind. Please just open your eyes, just look look at me.”

Pulling back Yoongi stared at Jimin's face, instinctively reaching a hand up to brush away the tears on the younger's face. Jimin stared back, desperate for Yoongi to see what he wanted to say, see what he'd been holding in his heart. Jimin gave up with a sigh, knowing Yoongi couldn’t see past his own heartbreak.

“Kiss me again.” Yoongi just blinked, unsure of what to do. Jimin stepped closer, their chests almost touching. “Please.”

No matter what his brain told him, Yoongi couldn’t resist. He leaned in, resting a shaking hand on Jimin's hip, and raising the other to cradle his jaw. His eyes flickered over Jimin's face for a moment, before they closed and their lips connected. His lips really were like velvet, soft and plush, sculpted so beautifully. Jimin moved his lips to capture Yoongi’s lower one and Yoongi shuddered, the hand on Jimin’s hip moving to his lower back, pulling him closer. He had to make this last, he may never get a chance to do it again.

The kiss was slow, soft. Their lips slotting together perfectly as tears fell from Yoongi's eyes. He didn’t bother to wipe them away, and Jimin didn’t bother to wipe away his own. They stayed exactly as they were, Breathing each other in by the moonlight coming through the window. When they broke apart to breathe, Yoongi kept his eyes closed, resting his head against Jimin's. A moment later Jimin was pulling Yoongi into his arms again, chin resting on the other's shoulder. “Yoongi, hyung. I love you.”

“I know.” Yoongi’s heart ached, his chest burned from holding back his sobs, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and stay there. Jimin shook his head, holding a little tighter.

“No, you don’t.” His voice was quivering and he sniffled, making Yoongi rub his back and press a kiss to the side of his head. “I love you as you love me. I think I always have.”

Yoongi stiffened, unsure of what he'd heard. Could this all be a dream? Could this all be a game? What the fuck was happening? Nervously he took a step back, looking at Jimin as if he'd disappear at any moment. Jimin didn’t though, he stayed right there, staring into Yoongi's eyes, pleading without words for Yoongi to understand him. “Don’t do that, don't play with my heart like that. This hurts enough.”

“This isn’t a game. This is real. This is me telling you what I’ve kept hidden for as long as I’ve known you.” Jimin stepped closer, gentle hands coming to rest on Yoongi's shoulders. “Listen to me. I love you. I’m in love with you. Do you understand?”

Yoongi didn’t answer with words, instead pulling Jimin into his arms and into another kiss. This one was more desperate, his heart hammering in a good way. He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t believe he'd never noticed the way Jimin looked at him before. His mind was suddenly clouded with all of the obvious signs and he felt so stupid, so incredibly dumb. This. He could have had this all along. Eventually they broke apart and moved back to where Yoongi had been sitting by the window, this time Jimin resting his back against his Hyung’s chest, the blanket covering their legs.

And that’s where their bandmates found them the next morning, snuggled together in a fleece cocoon, smiling in their sleep, embracing each other tightly.

[branewurms]

Awake

trying again without it being an answer to the ask. this is for nonnie’s prompt of asra riding muriel.

rating: explicit (but in softe sweet way)

pairing: asra/muriel

———

Muriel doesn’t know where to put his hands. Doesn’t know where to point his eyes. He isn’t quite sure how he got here, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he’s terrified of getting this wrong. Of hurting this person he’s spent his life wanting to protect.

———

Muriel doesn’t know where to put his hands. Doesn’t know where to point his eyes. He isn’t quite sure how he got here, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he’s terrified of getting this wrong. Of hurting this person he’s spent his life wanting to protect.

Muriel can’t quite process it. His senses are overwhelmed, giving him only too-sharp flashes of images and heat and texture. It’s like one of those slippery dreams that Muriel never quite remembers, nothing but wisps of haunting beauty that cling until he shakes them away.

Asra looks otherworldly in the firelight. But he certainly smells real enough, of herbs and incense resins and smoky tea, of petrichor and salt sweat. He’s here, he’s real. This is real. Asra, Muriel’s oldest friend. His only friend for so long, the only precious thing Muriel had had for years and years.

Asra, with his soft, dandelion-fluff of hair, his smooth, unblemished skin, and his gentle, clever hands. With his knowing eyes and his playful smiles. Surely he doesn’t belong here, straddling Muriel’s scarred tree trunk of a body. Surely he wasn’t made to be touched by the likes of Muriel. Certainly not like this.

Well. In a more than a figurative sense. Asra’s so small, a little smaller even than an average person, and Muriel is so—well, not small. Nothing about Muriel is small, certainly not that.

Sweat glistens all over the suede-smooth expanse of Asra’s body, and his ribs rise and fall with his heaving breath. His brow is furrowed, his eyes screwed shut, the expression somewhere between deep concentration and pain—and it must be pain, mustn’t it? Hell, it’s even hurting Muriel a little, this scalding heat wrapping around his member tight as a vise, never mind all the oil they’d used.

Fuck. Fuck.

Muriel feels a pang of alarm in his chest. he should have said no. He’s not safe for someone so gentle, so small, so soft. Of course he isn’t.

Asra hisses out long and slow through his teeth as he sinks down the rest of the way, taking Muriel to the hilt. Strangling a groan, Muriel grits his teeth against his body’s compulsion to buck. There’s a strange tingling shooting up his spine, down the backs of his legs, making his legs twitch and his toes curl.

His hands reach out, but then hang uselessly in the air, unsure what to do. He struggles to make his mouth and throat work in unison to form words.

What words? He doesn’t have any.

Hell, does it matter? Anything will do. Just say something. Speak.

“...hey,” he manages, with enormous effort.

Asra blinks open his eyes. Notices Muriel’s hands hovering there in front of him. Asra gently, so gently, takes one of Muriel’s hands, then the other, guiding each to settle on either side of Asra’s narrow hips.

Muriel swallows heavily. “This…” Muriel tries. “Are you…”

Asra gives him a strained little smile. “I’m fine, Muri. I haven’t taken anything as big as you before. I just need a little time to adjust.”

Muriel’s face burns at that. “Doesn’t it… hurt?”

“A little,” Asra admits easily, like it doesn’t matter. Why wouldn’t it matter? Of course it matters. “But it's a good pain.”

“‘Good…?’” What the hell is a ‘good’ pain? What does that even mean? How can pain be ‘good’? Is Asra just trying to placate him?

But no, Asra wouldn’t—and Muriel can see for himself that Asra’s erection hasn’t flagged. The flush on Asra’s face, his glazed and heavy lidded eyes… That doesn’t look like any kind of suffering.

“Hmm,” Asra says patiently, squinting in thought—like they’re just having a conversation, like this is all perfectly normal, like Asra hasn’t just taken Muriel’s dick up inside of his body. “You know… It's little bit like when something’s itching at you, like a burr got in your trouser leg or something, and it’s driving you crazy? And then you brush it away, and you scratch at the itch really hard. So hard it kinda hurts, but the hurt is also…a relief?”

Something in Muriel’s chest clenches, and his eyes sting, and he doesn’t understand why. He swallows against the sudden lump in his throat. It takes a breath or two before he can speak again.

“You… All right,” he allows, his voice sounding even more gravelly than usual to his own ears. “Uh—what should I—”

“It’s okay. Just follow my lead.” Asra smiles, those dimples forming in his cheeks, and it’s so hard to breathe. “Hmm. Can you brace me, so I can relax my body more as I move?”

That simple question does something inexplicable to Muriel’s whole body; there’s a prickling, overwhelming wash of pure sensation, and his skull feels like it’s squeezing his brain too tight. His vision mists over. For a few hysterical seconds he’s afraid he might actually pass out. He shuts his eyes and takes a few deep breaths through his nose. Opens them again.

He gives Asra a short nod, and Asra gives him another heartrending smile in return. He watches as Asra moves one of Muriel’s big, scarred hands up higher to Asra’s chest, watches him lean forward against it. Muriel spreads his fingers out against all that warm, bare skin, taking the weight so easily Asra might as well have the bones of a bird.

Asra shifts his hips in a slow, experimental roll, lithe muscle and sinew rippling beneath Muriel’s hands, and that strange, spine-tingling heat grips and slides against Muriel’s shaft. Muriel’s head falls back; he hears himself make a sound unlike anything he’s ever heard himself make before, like nothing he thought could come from his own mouth.

Asra looks as astonished as Muriel, wonder spreading slow and sweet across his features. With his own soft hand, Asra grips Muriel’s wrist and gives it a squeeze, holding on as he begins to ride Muriel properly, lifting up, sinking down, smooth and sure and sinuous.

Asra’s mouth falls open on a guttural moan.

Something in Muriel breaks at the sound, something he’d locked up so deep he had forgotten it was even there—did he ever know it was there? Every nerve in his body is singing awake. Gasping for air, he wills himself to hold still, so very still—oh, be careful, he must be so careful. He watches Asra with wide-open eyes, hypnotized, committing every detail of this to memory.

“Fuck, Muri,” Asra hisses. “So full… Feels so good…”

His chest hurts. It hurts. It feels like heartbreak, maybe, but he suspects it’s just the opposite. He gets it now, he understands how something that hurts can feel good. Can feel right.

And oh. Oh. He feels so awake. He’s been asleep, hasn’t he, his whole life he’s been asleep, and now his most precious person is here, riding his cock, and this is impossible, absurd. It should be an embarrassing dream, a fantasy to hide away even from himself. But it’s real, and he’s awake.

He is awake.

[bionic-buckyb]

When It Rains: Part 2

A Thor x Reader / Soulmate Series

Master List

⚡ You’ve been dreaming of the same voice, the same man, for as long as you can remember. You never thought that he could be real, let alone that he was the God of Thunder, your soulmate, and the key to unlocking a mysterious power within you; a power that could be used to save Thor’s homeland of Asgard, or, in the wrong hands, to destroy it.

A/N: I had SO MUCH FUN writing part one and even more fun writing this! It’s so freeing to write for other characters, especially Thor, and to explore the marvel universe more. I just hope you guys are liking it! This whole series is based (loosely) off the song Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. Thank you to @howlingbarnes, my beautiful bestie, for reading this over for me. Your asks, likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated (although if you could reblog to get it out there, i’d appreciate it the most)! I’d love to hear if you wish for me to continue [:

Word Count: 1,765

Warnings: - language. - very mild violence.

Tags: (at the end)

*gif is not mine. (credit: here)

Your heart felt like it stopped in your chest, as Thor’s astonishingly clear, blue eyes pierced your very soul. You couldn’t believe it. The person you’d been dreaming about for literal years, was standing right in front of you. But how? How was this possible? Your brain worked in overdrive over every explanation, but the overpowering fuzz of uncertainty claimed the most space. Shaking your head, you tried to clear your mind and think rationally. Thor’s brow was furrowed in apparent concern, sweet wrinkles appearing by his eyes as he concentrated.  

“Is everything alright?” he asked, reaching out a very large hand, and placing it on your shoulder in a genuinely concerned manner. Only five minutes in this being’s presence, and you had already deemed him perfection.

“I---yeah…” you replied, fidgeting at the spot. “I just… feel like I know you.”

“I must say, I do feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before. Have we ever met?”

“Uh… no,” you said, with a shake of your head. “I don’t think we have.”

“Shame. Maybe you’ve seen me on the television? I’m quite popular here on Earth.”

The smile that followed this statement warmed your fragile heart this time; the delicious warmth creeping over every bone in your body like a comforting blanket. But there was the word again. Earth. The only word you’d ever heard him say. How would you possibly explain this to someone so… godlike? Your anxiety began to creep up on you, like a insatiable thirst, sucking you dry. You couldn’t tell him about your dreams. How stupid would you look?

“Yeah,” you finally retorted, smoothing out your apron, picking off every fuzz and crumb; anything to not have to face him. “That’s probably it.”

Thor looked out the window, before looking back at you. You could feel those eyes scanning over you, assessing you, and your entire body was on fire. You didn’t want to let him go, but how would you make him stay? You were just… you. And he was just… out of your entire fucking league.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice quieter than before, more intimate.  “I have to be going now. I’m needed by my good friend, Tony Stark.”

You choked on your own spit, coughing violently.

“I’m sorry, did you just say you’re friends with Tony Stark?”

“Indeed. Do you know of him?”

“Well, he’s only one of the richest men on the entire planet---”

You stopped speaking mid sentence, and that’s when it all finally clicked. Suddenly, you felt so stupid that you wanted to literally kick yourself as hard as possible, or vomit, or both. Tony Stark was the founder of the Avengers and, after taking another glance at Thor, realized that he too was obviously a part of them. You didn’t know much about the Avengers, or their members; just that they saved the world and the government gave them shit for it.

“Wait… you’re an Avenger, aren’t you?” you asked bravely.

“I am or… was. Not really sure where they stand anymore. Which is where I was going, to find out.”

“Ah, okay, yeah. Please, don’t let me stop you,” you replied, your heart crying out not to let him leave, but your brain knowing you had to. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” he stated with a nod of his head, before turning out of the coffee shop door. You watched as he walked in the middle of the street with purpose. A bolt of electric blue lightning that matched his eyes came from the sky. It zapped around him like a force field and you gasped, as the same lightning emitted from his fingertips. Thor turned once more to look at you through, his eyes glowing the whitest blue you’d ever seen. His clothes had now changed, and he was wearing leather armor, which hugged every part of him perfectly. To your surprise, he winked before quickly disappearing straight up into the sky. You ran out into the street and looked up, hoping for one more glimpse of the man of your dreams, but he was gone. The only thing that greeted you was a rumble of thunder, followed by drops of rain on your face.

Walking quickly back into the coffee shop to avoid getting wet, you did a quick Google search on your phone.

Thor.

Many things came up, including lots of Norse mythology. Myths, about the son of Odin. Your head was spinning, as if your body was on the fastest teacup ride at Disneyland. Specifying the search, you tried:

Thor, Avengers.

What came up made you gasp, and feel even more stupid than you already felt, even though deep down you always knew.

Thor, son of Odin, is the god of Thunder. He is the most important and famous god in Norse mythology and, after coming to Earth to reveal himself, along with teaming up with Mr Tony Stark, has become a crucial part of the Avengers team. After the historical incident in Sokovia, his location is unknown. It is possible that he currently resides on his own planet, Asgard.

So Thor was an actual god after all; an otherworldly being. You set your phone down and inhaled quickly, before releasing all of your pent up air in one long breath. All this time, you had been seeing what you assumed were Thor’s memories. The actual god of Thunder. But why? Why you? And why did he come to you now, in a measly coffee shop on Earth when, clearly, he was on the run? Crazy questions ran through your brain, with no answers to sedate them.

“Fuck…” you breathed, trying everything not to cry. You didn’t know what to do, where to turn, or what any of this meant.

After what felt like an eternity, you were finally relieved from your position by a coworker, and began your walk to the parking garage a few blocks down the street from the coffee shop to retrieve your car. All you wanted to do was curl into a ball in bed and cry, knowing that you’d let Thor just leave without an explanation for the dreams that tortured you for so long. He was, after all, an actual god. Maybe he knew what was happening to you.

Not realizing where you were going, you slammed into a stranger who was standing directly in front of you. He leaned in and whispered in your ear, so as not to draw attention, sending chills down your spine.

“Gimme your purse, and no one gets hurt.”

“What?” you asked, absolutely flabbergasted. “Absolutely fucking not.”

The man’s fingers were wrapped around the strap now, yanking it toward him. A mean glare was in his eyes. You were playing tug of war now. All of your money was in this bag, your entire life. There was no way you were letting it go.

“Let go!” you screamed, hoping to get someone’s attention, but the street was empty. “Now, asshole!”

You saw the stranger reach into his pocket with his free hand, and you froze. You knew he was going for a knife, a gun; anything to kill you with. This was it. This was the end.

Except you were very wrong.

A loud crack of lightning struck just behind the stranger, making him let go of your purse and yelp in surprise.

“Jesus Christ!” he screamed, jumping away from you. “Oh fuck…”

When he spoke, he was almost looking through you, as if someone was behind you. You furrowed your brow, as you watched the stranger tremble with fear, before running the other way.

“I was only gone like... an hour,” the sweet, deep, soothing voice said behind you. The only voice to ever make you weak in the knees. “You’re a trouble maker, aren’t you?”

You turned around in what felt like slow motion, as you took in Thor for the first time since you found out who and what he actually was. Butterflies fluttered inside your stomach, the sudden urge to vomit from emotion apparent. He was the most beautiful creature you’d ever laid eyes on, and that was a fact now.

“Thank you…” you managed to breathe, holding your stomach. “You saved my life.”

“Nonsense,” he said with a wave of his hand. “But I have to tell you I haven’t been very honest with you.”

His statement took you by surprise, and your hand instinctively clutched your heart.

“Neither have I,” you finally replied, not taking your eyes off of him for fear he’d vanish again.

“That’s what I feared. Will you come with me, to a safe place that we can talk? I’d like to get you looked at by a friend, to be sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, I—-“

“Non-negotiable I’m afraid,” he interrupted, and you didn’t argue. “Please, come with me?”

He asked as a question, although you knew it wasn’t one.

You looked at his hand as he extended it to you, your face clearly reading that of the biggest skeptic. Your heart was screaming “Go!” but your brain was screaming “Don’t!”

“I promise, I won’t hurt you,” he assured you. “I would never dream of hurting you, Y/N.”

You placed your hand in his, your eyes never leaving the smile he wore just for you. As your fingers wrapped into his own, your world lurched forward, as he flew you to your new destination.

It felt like a few minutes, but might have been much longer. Thor’s free hand was used to wrap around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible to keep you safe.

The eventual landing was rough, and your world spun for a while as you clutched the floor on all fours. To your surprise, you felt the same fingers that were wrapped in yours moments before, rubbing your back in a comforting manner.

“Good God, Thor,” another soft voice said somewhere around you. “Why did you fly her here? You could’ve just had Tony’s guys pick her up?”

“She had been through enough with strangers, Banner,” Thor said quietly. “I wanted her to be with me. I almost lost her today.”

“Okay, okay,” Banner said, shaking his head. “Lets help her up at least, huh?” Two strong hands looped under each of your arms and pulled you up. You were dizzy.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked you, taking your face in his hands. You nodded, unable to form words. Banner was snapping his fingers in your face, his own  covered in worry. “Can I get you anything?”

Suddenly, another man appeared behind Thor and you immediately spaced out on his all too familiar face.

“Hello, Y/N?” he extended a hand between you and Thor. “My name is Tony Stark. I wanted to personally welcome you to Stark Tower.”

You didn’t take his hand, and instead saw Thor’s intense face of concern, as you passed out in his arms.

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Part 3