#it's not ah... quite spring here yet

[batwynn]

Some signs of spring around my home. A crocus, mini irises, and a maple tree bloom. There’s chives coming up, and the garlic I planted last fall is poking up through the mulch. The Canada geese are making their way back north, I’ve been seeing them the last week or so. I took my dog for a walk at the park today and it was so pretty - fluffy white clouds floating across a deep blue sky, green grass shooting up, and that particular smell of growing things.

I hope there’s spring where you are, it’s such a lovely time of year.

Aah these are so lovely! Thank you for sharing <3

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

TAGLIST: @sugurubabe @fullbelieverheart @starrysho @meowforluv @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra @inconcise @sexcults @hotgirlgoob @mistalli @ourfinalisation @graceloveslanadelrey @blessed-princesa @plinkuro @pe4rl-diver @sugojosgf @beachaddict48 @chimmysoftpaws @blendingcaramal @dongh9e @caramelised-onions @kyluskaye @sammywo @4evrglow @hiraethwa @stinkinstuffie @tomiokasecretlover @ser0t0nln @yuzu-ku @lagataprrr @dear-fifi @hel-lhound @kensqueent @sserafin @dabisdolly @zoroisminty @angelkazusstuff @reinam00n @kaeyakaikai @bunny416 @littletittygothgirl @glitterbitch1 @saccharine-nectarine

cont in comments !

[nanamiskentos]

Begging you to write something for Kashimo you're the only writer I've seen that actively writes for him please i will literally suck you off (pretend I just didn't type that, i'm just desperate for fine shyt)

I CAN DO A LOT WITH FIFTEEN MINUTES ❛ hajime kashimo won't ever admit defeat, even if there's a time constraint. he just has to make you finish ❜

cw — afab!reader, MDNI, marking, édging, kashimo doesn't fw gojo, thigh ríding, inappropriate jujutsu usage, gojo cameo, fíngéring

"i kinda' ship them, wouldn't you agree?" you're snapping your glossy mouth, gently gnawing on your lower lip. straddled over a toned, muscular thigh, with your back pressed against a washboard, deliciously carved abdomen, "hakari and kirara, right?"

you hear a clever tongue click absent-mindedly behind the soft shell of your ear, "i do not understand this, i may find them . . insufferable, but are they not friends of yours?" you can hear the strained confusion colouring kashimo's voice, that, and the impatience as he's hissing and sucking a quick draw of breath between teeth as you lean back into him just a little bit more, "why would you send them off on a boat?"

ah, sometimes it's easy to forget that the sharp-tongued, bratty, teal-haired sorcerer ( who spends his days attempting to pick fights with anyone who looks at him 'funny' ) is yet to fully swap out his birth-tongue medieval vernacular for something a bit more up to date.

"it means that i think they'd look cute together, 'jime," you sigh, hearing kashimo sigh, loud and heavy, before opting to bury his face into the crook of your neck. if only to nip at the soft flesh there, awaiting the blooming petals of the pink and violet bruises he so loves to see there.

"that's nice, little dove," kashimo murmurs, and you can tell that he's doing his best to indulge your gossip and conversation, but the thick curve that's straining against the loose drape of his martial pants is making it quite difficult for him to focus, "but we do not have long before everyone is scheduled to meet here. and the last thing i wish for is that irritating, white-haired upstart to kick up a fuss."

"who?" you frown, a soft whine slipping from your lips as kashimo's strong hands find a firm grip on your waist, gently beginning to move you back and forth in a slow rocking motion, "gojo?"

"if i do not like someone, i will not indulge them by speaking their name."

sighhh, frankly what gojo thinks is the last thing on your mind right now. . . for all you can truly think about is the gentle, cloying strands of slick that must be pooling now in your underwear. stimulated by the soft brush of fabric creating an electrifying friction, dampening kashimo's pants with a translucent stain of your arousal.

you're so lost in the addictive sway of your cunt against the contours and muscle of kashimo's thighs, like the subtle pressure of a coiled spring just waiting to break loose, "feels s-so good, 'jime."

a rasp-rough chuckle from kashimo, his hands falling away from your hips and leaving you to rock yourself against his thigh in growing desperation. hands instead curling around your front to slide surreptitiously up your top, breezing past sensitive and pebbled skin to gently cup your breasts, tweaking and flicking, "yeah, yeah? thought so, heh, my fair lady."

but just as you're so, so close to seeing stars shoot across your vision, kashimo bounces his thigh, creating the most delicious jolt that suddenly breaks your rhythm and leaving you to kiss your climax a tearful goodbye, "what the f-fuck, i was gonna' –"

kashimo is so close to you, his face practically glued to the back of your neck that you can feel the flutter of his long, teal lashes as he rolls his eyes, "whaaat? you were gonna cum, was that it, little dove? is that why you're suddenly so –," a bandaged finger reaching around to wipe a stray, frustrated crystalline droplet from your teary eyes, "weak, mm? weak for my touch?"

"y-you're the one who said we didn't have long 'n –"

the same finger that was gently brushing over your weeping eye, gliding away the last remnants of your ruined orgasm, now presses over your lips, firm, "shh."

kashimo quickly spreads his thighs apart, and considering you had just been balancing on one, the action should have toppled your balance. but a veiny arm wraps your waist, keeping you in. . place pressed against his back.

instead, now your legs are spread wide, each ankle hooked around kashimo's calves so you balance precariously.

praying to god, to tengen, to every deity out there and throwing whoever you can quickly of in, that the training room door will remained closed for at least fifteen minutes. but it's hard to think rationally when kashimo is purring, still pressed to your back as he reaches around your waist to gently pull down your waistband.

"how filthy," he teases, "tsk', i've barely even touched you, and you're drippin' allll over my fingers." and while you'd like to keep your dignity intact, there's no denying that every prod of kashimo's padded fingertips against your pussy leaves the bandages soaked in your wetness.

"alright, little dove," kashimo murmurs, "here we go, keep ya' balance for me." and you wonder why he's bothering to give you a warning when your cunt is already spread by his hand, but in hindsight, it makes so much sense because like most things kashimo does, his pace is brutal and aiming to win.

in and out, in and out. the sloppy pshh and pop! of kashimo's fingers driving into your gummy walls has you keening, and it has the old sorcerer loudly moaning before he sucks in a breath, lips pressed together tightly like all he wants to hear right now is you, just you.

"ah, ah, 'jime," you writhe in his gasp, groaning as his fingers prod and curl in all the right places. sharp, pistoning motions that faintly crackle, you swear, heightening every sensation tenfold, "are you, f-fuck, are you seriously using –, oh my god!"

you can feel kashimo smile against your neck, and the soft press of his lips on your skin, "am i using what, love?" waiting for your answer that was never going to arrive, not with how kashimo's pumping his middle finger against that sweet spot, "ah, can't even speak now, 's a damn shame."

what a debauched sight the two of you must make. kashimo, flushed just from watching and hearing you fall apart on his lap, with his teal hair unbound. choppy, slick strands brushing his shoulders. you, with your legs pushed wide open, and wider still as kashimo jolts his own thighs apart further.

you're babbling now, riddled cries of the sorcerer's name, as he never lets up, not even once on the nasty pace. if you turn your head to fall back against kashimo's shoulder, you can taste the trail of salt-tears at the corner of your mouth, "baby, 'j-jime, so close now, baby."

"good, good," kashimo hisses, and you don't miss how he's furiously bucking his hips up, jolting you higher into his lap as he must chase some friction for his own release, "if you jus' hold onn, little dove."

a thumb messily gliding through your glossy mess to flick at your clit, all in conjunction with kashimo melding three fingers into your pussy, well, it's got you hurtling close and the sorcerer knows it, "three." he crooks his fingers inside and towards your groin, "two." sloppily running his thumb alongside the side of your clit, scooping, "one."

a devastating high that leaves you both panting, and your hips clenching and twitching, your arousal so plentiful that it's beginning to froth and pool at the edges of your pushed aside underwear. kashimo hisses, and then sighs, "made a mess, love." and you need not pointedly mention the dark stain on his loose, white pants.

"you look like a mess, 'jime." your legs feel utterly boneless but you make an effort to move, falling back into kashimo's surprisingly gentle, "i've got a hold of you." the sorcerer's laughing as you smooth your skirt down, grimacing at the slap of slick and sweat that's dampening your flesh.

kashimo's snapping his teeth around a loose tie that hangs off his wrist to scrape his cyan hair back up into his recognisable knots, "you know, if we had more time, little dove, i would have –" he makes a quick whistling sound, jerking his wrist over his groin and pointedly looking down to your shaking thighs, "but we had to make do."

it's a surprisingly crude gesture from the prudish sorcerer that makes you laugh, "and right on time, too. because i swear, if anyone had –"

"i swear to fucking god, you two pull that shit again, i'm going to fight sukuna early." yeah, right on time, because gojo's pushing open the training room door with one hand, the most disgusted look over his face that informs you that you didn't account for the sheer magnitude of six eyes.

gojo's bright-blue eyes swivel away from the turquoise-haired sorcerer now, to where you're shuffling sheepishly and avoiding kashimo's proud, fanged grin, "and you, control your boy toy. i don't have time for this shit."

you press your lips together in faint embarrassment in front of one of your oldest friends, all while kashimo is vaguely fiddling with his hands, making you wonder if he's about to pull out some new domain expansion that no one has heard of. but what you end up hearing is a satisfied 'aha!'.

"see, i'm getting the hang of these modern things." kashimo's fingers are curled into a tight fist, all save for the middle one, proudly flipping gojo off ( who just mutters some ominous portent about hoping that december 24 rolls around quicker )

[maxlarens]

i promise i'm writing my max oneshot CURRENTLY but i had to get the sillies out about this really badly. australian spring/summer i love u i love u i love u!!!! also at this point i think the difference between a one shot and drabble on this account is non existent and simply based on vibes. this is only a one shot bcs it feels a bit more coherent i suppose?

LN: australia street

pairing(s): lando norris x piastri!reader, oscar piastri & piastri!reader

word count: 1.3k+

It all feels very familiar, nostalgic even— though you've never been in quite this situation before. With Oscar sure; you always rope your brother into doing things when you're in Australia again. But this is the first time that Lando's joined you.

It's nice, to be home.

Not that it's yours or Oscar's home anymore (that's not true. It always will be, no matter where in the world you jet off to). It's certainly not Lando's. It's hard to put words to the feeling, you just know it's nice.

You're driving, of course, because Oscar and Lando can never decide which of the two of them should drive. So you'd snatched the keys to the Piastri family '96 Holden Commodore and slammed the driver door behind you before either of them could say boo. Lando had snagged the passenger seat in a mad dash that you'd watched play out in the rear-view mirror, while Oscar had complained all the way to the backseat.

"Whered'ya wanna go?", you half turn your head to ask Oscar, checking your blind spot at the same time.

Oscar hums as he thinks. You can feel Lando's eyes burning a hole into the side of your face.

"Do you remember that fish and chips shop—"

You do, "Where Dad used to take us? Yeah, it closed down," then you add, "Besides, Lando hates fish. Jeez, Osc."

"Ah fuck," Oscar groans, "That sucks."

Lando makes a noise, indignant, "I can't believe you forgot. It's my one thing."

Oscar rolls his eyes, "It's not your one thing, Lando. You have plenty of things."

They start to bicker, devolving into an argument that you only understand about half of, about pet peeves and the things the other one does that get on the other’s nerves. You chime in a few times to agree about Oscar’s annoying habits, the things you'd grown up complaining to your Mum about. Quietly to yourself, you decide on a route to an old Italian place you know is still kicking around— they won't mind.

You roll your window down, feel the balmy spring breeze in your hair, on your face. It smells like the bloom of jasmine flowers, of warmth, of the smoke of people BBQ-ing in their backyards. You breathe deeply, absently aware of the petered-out conversation. Oscar dozing in the backseat like he always does. Lando looking out the other window, watching gum trees and bottlebrush on the sides of the road. 'M looking for koala’s he'd said the other day, which had made you laugh. You'd been tempted to tell him about drop bears, but you're sure that Daniel had already warned him of the dangers.

"Do you miss it here?", Lando asks suddenly.

"Mm," you affirm, "I do."

"A lot?"

You shrug at the question, not sure why he's pressing it, "Sure, Lan."

"Then why do you travel with Oscar?", you spare a glance at him, he's fiddling with a bracelet on his wrist, the one you'd made him that matched the one you'd made Oscar that matched the one you wore, "Don't you want to, y'know, settle down here?"

You raise an eyebrow, scoff a little, "God, I'm not an old maid, dude. I'm not ready to pop out babies yet. Far out."

"No, no," he's blushing, you know he is, you don't even need to check, his tan cheeks growing a little darker, redder, "Fuck. That's not what I meant. You know what I meant."

You snicker. You do. But Lando is fun to rile up.

A latent sigh leaves your mouth, "I dunno," you admit, "It's my favourite place. But I have the rest of my life to come back, and besides, it's more special like this. I appreciate it more when I'm only here for a short time."

Lando hums, turning your words over in his head. You think he may be about to say something else—

"Do you like it here, Lan?"

You're not sure why you ask. No, you are. There's this fantasy that keeps floating around in your head. Little bits of it have been coming true on this trip. Lando standing in the garage with your Dad, talking about project cars and then showing him grease covered parts, explaining where they'll eventually end up. Your Mum roping you, Lando and Oscar into helping her cut vegetables at the kitchen counter. Your younger sisters giving you loaded looks behind Lando's back, you trying to pretend you have no idea what they mean by them. It's a pipedream, it's weird and you need to stop doing it.

But you can't. Sometimes, you look at Lando and your thoughts just pick up and run away with themselves.

Lando nods in answer to your question, "'Course. It's very," he trails off, fingers finding the beads on his bracelet again, he hums, "It's very you. Hm, does that make sense?"

You feel warm all of a sudden. Something creeps up your neck, settles at the base of your skull. You blink a few times, remind yourself to focus on the road.

You skitter out a laugh, an awkward thing, you're trying not to look at him, your hands tight on the wheel, "Yeah— uh— it does. I s'pose."

You lapse into silence for a short while. The sky is eggshell orange and purple and red, stretching out in front of you. Punctuated by the star-brightness of the street lights, terracotta tiled roofs and the shadowed branches of towering Eucalyptus trees. It fills you with a feeling you can't name— there's nothing else quite like it out there. Not in London, not in Monaco, not in any of the many other cities you've traveled to or lived in for a stint.

They're all gorgeous and interesting in their own right, but they don't live up to the special peculiarities of suburban Australia. The flash of a possum's eyes where it's skittering across a powerline. The faint sounds of kookaburras laughing as dusk falls. The glow of families watching TV in living rooms coming through screen doors left unlocked. Old men tinkering in wide open garages. Wheelie bins with red and yellow lids out on the curb— cricket stumps painted on the sides.

It’s special. In the way that home is always special.

Then Lando says, apropos of nothing, “Pretty.”

“Huh.”

He shrugs, gestures around at the neighbourhood, “It’s pretty. Warm too. I can see why your parents live here. Raised you guys here. I can see myself doing that.”

You decide not to tell him about the bipolarity of Melbourne weather. Cold to hot to wet to dry to gusty all in a few hours. You let him enjoy the rare consistent spring day. And you try not think about what he’s saying, what he’s admitting. You try not to think about what you might be admitting, driving him through streets you used to play in, to places you used to go with your family, talking about settling down, like it’s on the horizon anytime soon.

It’s not— you’ve not met anyone to settle down with.

At least you don’t think you have.

It’s certainly not Lando, in the passenger seat of the old family car, fresh off a day of meeting your grandparents for fuckssake and taking a tour of your childhood bedroom. Laughing at your old boyband posters and the teenage girl shrine you’d kept to Niki Lauda. It can’t be Lando, who you turn to when you can’t turn to your brother, who gives you his hoodies when you’re cold even though he’s colder, who’s come on a bloody trip to Australia in his four week break because you’d said you wouldn’t know what to do without him for that long.

It can’t. It’s not.

He’s talking in hypotheticals and you’re getting carried away with yourself again. Like you always do.

listened to this playlist while writing😌

[orimuraa]

⋆｡˚ ꕥ That old fashioned love - OT7

(synopsis) ➼ special dates with enhypen ↺

ot7!enhypen x fem!reader ➼ fluff ➼ petnames, kisses ➼ wc 899

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

“can i look now?” you ask, having absolutely no idea where you were as the blindfold prevented any vision. “not yet baby, wait just a couple more minutes,” you hear heeseung chuckle. “okay, you can take it off now,” he lets go of your arm (that was leading you) and nervously waits for your reaction. the first thing you see after taking off the blindfold is the beautiful, pink cherry blossoms, decorating the ground, the trees, and fluttering around in the sky. “hee- it’s beautiful,” you say in awe, twirling around to take in your surroundings. you and heeseung had always talked about wanting to have a date in the cherry blossom park during the spring, so here you were, holding heeseung’s hand, savoring these sweet and quiet moments with him, and exchanging sweet whispers of “i love you”s.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

lately, you had been super busy and stressed just from your life. so, jay took this as an opportunity to take you out on a nice date to help you de-stress. "jongie? where are we?" you asked cautiously, slowly starting to recognize your surroundings. "oh my- is this where we first met?!" you exclaimed, instantly recognizing where jay had brought you. "yep! i thought it would be nice to have a picnic maybe? i brought some lunch for us," jay chuckled, adoring your surprised face. "thank you jongie, i really needed this," you signed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips. "anything for you angel, i just want you to be happy," and happy you were.

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

"sweets? get ready to go cause i just reserved us a table at our favorite restaurant!" jake smiled, making little jazz hands. if he wasn't so damn cute and someone you loved very much, you would probably yell at him for only giving you a 2 hour notice to get ready. "ah! i have to start getting ready!" you exclaimed frantically, rushing off to your room. "who takes 2 hours to get ready?" jake mumbled. by the time you were done, it was almost time to leave. "ready sweets?" he asked, a sweet smile on his face. you nodded, linking arms with your handsome boyfriend, also leaning in quickly to press a peck to his cheek. it was these small dinner dates that were what you looked forward to most. even the staff at the restaurant recognized you guys.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

the sound of skates gliding on the ice was oddly comforting to you and sunghoon. it was your guys' special place together where lots of memories were made. as sunghoon finished tying your laces, you didn't realize he had finished, too busy admiring his features. "baby? you okay?" he asked, noticing that you spaced out. "huh? oh yeah! i was just admiring your face.." you blushed, suddenly feeling quite warm. he let out a smooth laugh, revealing his adorable fangs. "alright, c'mon princess, let's get skating!" he smiled, lacing his fingers with yours. this was sunghoon's happiness. both of his loves in one place. the skating rink was probably you and sunghoon's second home, but it was a good home.

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

it's no secret that kim sunoo LOVES skincare. so he would always love spa dates with you whether it was a diy one at home, or actually going to a spa together. today was your day off and since it had been quite a stressful week, sunoo decided to help you relax a bit with a spa date at home. he prepared all the products and face masks but also not forgetting your favorite take-out. "sun sun! is this all for me?" you exclaimed, your heart warming at the special date sunoo had prepared for you. "yup! my baby deserves only the best!" he smiled, pulling you in to kiss your sweet lips. "now, let's help you relax hm?" he whispered against your lips, kissing them once more.

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

"wonnie? are we where i think we are?" you asked, memories coming back to you of the place you were in. the park was still so pretty and the play-structure still stood tall. the place where jungwon confessed to you. "you remember it baby?" his eyes softening at you. "of course i do! it's where you confessed to me," you smiled back at him, giving his hand a squeeze. he led you by the hand over to the same grassy hill that he told you he liked you. "i love you so much," he whispered against your lips, holding you close to him. you could practically hear his heartbeat. "i love you more wonnie," and with that, you both leaned in, connecting your lips together.

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村 力

today, riki had told you to clear your schedule and that he had something special planned for you. so here you were, a blindfold over your eyes and a laughing riki "guiding" you to a mysterious location. once he finally took off the blindfold, you were greeted with a bunch of adorable cats staring up at you. "ki, did you bring me to a cat cafe?" your eyes darted to all the cats that surrounded you and your boyfriend. "yes ma'am! i remember you had mentioned once that you really wanted to go to one," he grinned, chuckling at how cute you looked. "oh thank you ki!! i love you so much!" you exclaimed, jumping up to hug him. "i love you too little love. anything to make you happy."

thank you to my sae bae, @saeivra, for the idea! i hope you rest up well bby! <333 if you enjoyed, please like and reblog! its much appreciated!

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy

[foulworth]

pastry war

while you're in the middle of a tiff with grim, fellow stops by for a visit

“I’ll have the ghosts string you up for that! Get back here NOW!”

First comes that loud bellow, then the frantic pitter-patter of paws scampering across the floorboards. Something made of glass shatters, an awkward plonk of a piano scrapes the air, and the walls of Ramshackle thrum with this contentious game of cat-and-mouse that, frankly, leaves Fellow wondering if he stopped by at the wrong time.

“Nyahaha! Not my fault they were left out! Finders keepers, yanno!” Grim’s snickers flow out of your bedroom window, from which he leaps onto a nearby tree branch. Your arm shoots out after him, flailing around to try snatching him back inside. Grim comes to a pause just out of your reach.

“All mine!” he jeers. He wags something small and golden-brown in your face, then takes a triumphant bite of whatever it is. A pastry, probably.

Fellow leans against his cane, glancing at Gidel with a half-amused curl of his lips.

“Oh, ohh dear,” he drawls. “Look at that, Gidel—seems we’ve caught our little scholar in quite the bind. Think we oughta step in?” He glances up to the window again, just in time to watch Grim dodge a barrage of slippers and kitchen pans. “No, no. Not yet. I’m having a marvelous time watching this play out.”

Your head pops into view, sleeves rolled up with a hairbrush brandished in hand.

“Fnya!” Grim skitters out of the way, dropping a couple of pastries in the process. Splats of crusts and jam join the pile of random household objects on the grass below.

“That’s it! I’m not buying you any tuna for a week!” You prop a knee up onto the windowsill, bracing yourself to jump after Grim. Fellow tenses at the sight. For a second, the amusement slips from his face, and a furrowed brow takes its place.

You’re not that reckless, are you?

No, he doesn’t have time to figure that out.

Fellow doesn’t think twice before he glides up to the tree that Grim is perched upon. His eyes never leave you, who’s halfway out the second story window.

“Wait, wait, wait!” he calls, waving both arms to grab your attention. It’s nothing unusual for Fellow to drop by Ramshackle unannounced, but his sudden appearances still catch you by surprise from time to time. Especially when you’re busy wrangling your greedy little monster companion.

And so, despite his efforts to intervene, seeing him there spooks you into losing your footing. You grab the curtain in hopes of catching yourself, but it tears off the rod almost immediately.

“Ah! Grim!” you shout, fingertips grazing the tree branch. Everything happens so fast. You plummet, the momentum beating the wind in your eyes. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hope for the best.

And then it ends.

Something soft is cushioned beneath you. You’d be lying if you said your landing was entirely painless, but nothing broke as far as you can tell. With a tentative peek, you pat yourself down, then examine the cushion—person—that flattened himself trying to catch you.

“...I think that was one of the stupidest stunts you’ve pulled—ow—and I’ve seen my share of those,” Fellow mutters. “Next time you’re that desperate to fling yourself off a two-story building, at least give it half a thought first.”

You spring up out of his arms. “What! And whose fault is that?!”

“Yours, all yours,” he insists. He slowly props himself onto his elbows, trying to ignore the lingering burn from the collision.

“...Are you okay?” you ask.

“Eh,” he offers, sounding vague and unconvincing. “Least I'd say I came at the right time. Y'know, you've always been a sucker for leaving your mark on me.”

Very funny. You might have rolled your eyes if you weren't worried that you'd hurt him.

[seventeenytiny]

Attention

Smut MDNI

Chan gets stuck in a work call, but you have an idea of how to get his attention back on you. Word Count: 1081 Warnings: Smut, Oral (male receiving), slight pet play? (I'm probably missing a warning I'm sorry) Author's Note: enjoy :) Male version: Here

Chan snuggled beside you on the couch, relieved to finally spend time with you after an exhausting workday. Long workdays have led to both of you longing for each other's touch; all you want to do is be held. The gentle pitter-patter of rain outside added to your coziness. Smiling to yourself as you hold onto him, you take in the sweet scent of his cologne. You were enjoying yourself so very much. That was until you heard the awful sound of his phone ringing. Chan sighs, pulling away from you. "I'm so sorry, angel. I have to take this call. I'll try to be fast."

You pout to yourself as he leaves, wondering how long that phone call could last. You lean back into the couch, pulling out your phone. Quickly becoming bored with it, you cycle through the same three apps repeatedly. Your attention shifts from your phone to Chan, who paces back and forth through your apartment. The gray sweatpants he's wearing look a little too good. That's when you get the sinfully brilliant idea of how to get Chan's attention back on you.

Content with your plan, you hop off the couch and make your way toward Chan. Placing your hands on his waist, you interrupt his pacing. His face twists in confusion, but he quickly shakes it off and returns to his conversation. You give him a peck on the cheek before sliding down to your knees in front of him, your hands staying right on his hips, fingers playing with his waistband.

Chan almost chokes mid-conversation, but he catches himself and returns to whatever he was talking about. He glares down at you, his eyes dark and warning, but showing no signs of telling you to stop. You know you'll be punished later for what you're about to do, but perhaps the benefits outweigh the risks. You smile innocently at him before continuing with your plan.

He's hard already, the bulge in his sweatpants tells you all you need to know. You have this man trained for you; every time he sees you on your knees, his body reacts before his brain. You rub his hard-on through his pants, your mouth already starting to water from the anticipation. The dark spot of precum begins to show through his sweatpants, you rub him one more time before pulling his pants down. To your surprise, Chan had decided to forgo underwear, his cock springing up in your face, tip red and leaking.

You take his member in your hand, giving it a couple slow pumps. Chan's free hand takes hold of your hair, gripping it harder as you tease him. You kiss his tip and then trail down his shaft, not wanting to indulge him just yet. He sighs; perhaps it was in response to his phone conversation, perhaps it wasn't. You return to his tip, giving it kitten licks, the salty taste of precum coating your tongue.

That's when Chan decides he's had enough of your games. His hand moves to the back of your head, roughly pushing his cock into your mouth. You gag quite loudly, enough to make the person on the phone call question what the sound was.

Chan clears his throat. "Ah don't worry Sir," he says. "It's just my friend's dog that I'm watching. She's usually a very good girl, I guess today she's just a little antsy." He pulls the phone away from his face while patting your head, "Why don't you be a good girl and be quiet while Daddy's on the phone?" You whimper around his cock in response before he continues on with his call.

Cautiously, you proceed back to what you were doing. You bob your head on his cock, your hand pumping what you can't fit in your mouth. His tip hits the back of your throat; he's deliciously large, not just in length but girth. You keep up a good pace, careful not to gag or make any noise. Chan's hand moves to cup your cheek, his touch shockingly soft and tender. However, that changes abruptly as he grabs your face and began to face fuck you. His pace was fast and unforgiving, your jaw becoming sore, drool dripping down your chin.

You know Chan would never give you more than you could handle, so you take his fast pace the best you can, slightly gagging with each thrust. Chan clears his throat before apologizing back into the speaker, "Sorry, Sir. this dog won't stop whimpering. I think she's hungry, do you mind if I put you on hold real quick while I feed her?"

You don't hear the man's reply but suddenly Chan's attention turns to you. "You're such a fucking brat you know that? You can't even wait for me to finish this call, so you just decide to help yourself. Such a whore," He emphasizes his words with his thrusts, "You're going to regret what you're doing once I finish this call."

His cock twitches in your mouth, you know he won't last much longer. "I'm going to return to my call and you're going to finish me off like a good girl. I want you to swallow every last drop okay?"

You mumble in reply, hearing him return to his call. He slows down his thrust, letting you regain control. You work what doesn't fit in your mouth with your hands, expertly pumping him. Your tongue moved up and down his shaft before you fully took him in again. You feel him twitch again, his grip on your hair tight, you know he's about to cum. A slight moan comes out of him as you feel him release into your mouth. You swallow every last drop of his warm cum, not letting any go to waste as demanded.

You thoroughly clean him off before releasing his cock from your mouth. Right at that moment, you hear him finish up his call with a quick 'goodbye'.

Chan helps you back up to your feet, holding onto your unsteady body. "You know you're in trouble, don't you, babygirl?"

You nod.

"But... let's save your punishment for another day. Will you let me take care of you right now?" His hand reaches down to rub at your pussy. "You must be absolutely soaked right now, it's my turn to taste you."

You kiss him on the lips, conveying your answer. He picks you up off your feet, whisking you away to the bedroom.

[versadies]

FOR ME? (neuvillette x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. for me?

ADDRESSED. neuvillette (x gn!reader)

STAMP. in which he came back from his trip to qiaoying village and brought a few things for you!

CONTENT. ooc (?), fluff/no-angst, established relationship, possibly cheesy, possible grammar errors, takes place during hustle and bustle quest from the recent lantern rite update!

POST-SCRIPT. here’s my post dedicated to @staarri’s birthday and milestone event — congratulations on your milestone and happy belated birthday to you, zira! furthermore, this fic is inspired by a wriolette fanart made by @/visualkid_n that i saw on my feed !!

LINKS. masterlist / taglist

For a man such as NEUVILLETTE who is as busy as can be and rarely leaves Fontaine, you thought you were in a different universe when your lover first told you that he’ll be going on a trip to Liyue and visit Qiaoying Village. It’s not often to find your lover taking a break from his duties as the Iudex, let alone travel to another nation with his busy schedule, yet here he was.

He tried to invite you really, telling you that he’d like you to come with him and spend time together, but given your schedule, you could only turn him down despite wanting to accept.

And so you spent half a day with your lover away from the nation, often wondering how he is and if he’s not sulking too much about you not being able to come with him. Though, knowing how he is, you’re sure he’ll be alright – he can live in not seeing you for a day.

Take note, it was only half a day.

To your surprise, Neuvillette came back home much earlier than expected, standing by your doorstep with a few bags in hand, his eyes brightening at the sight of you.

“How was your trip?” You asked as you provided him some water for him to drink after he came inside your shared home.

“It was… quite enjoyable, but not as much as I longed for you to be there with me.” He responds softly, thanking you for the drink before taking a sip.

You gave him an apologetic smile, sitting down next to him on the sofa. “Sorry.. I’ll come with you next time when you decide to travel again.” You spoke, before glancing at the numerous items that are placed on the floor. “Though may I ask, what are all these items for?”

Neuvillette placed his cup down, glancing at the items as well before saying casually, “Ah, they’re for you, my dear.”

Come again?

You blinked a few times, staring at your lover as if he just told you the most absurd thing.

“Eh? All of them…?” You clarified.

It didn’t help that the Iudex looked unbothered, as if this is almost nothing for him. “Yes, of course. Why do you look so surprised?” He asks. “I was only thinking of you and how you were while I was away, and I happened to find a lot of things that reminded me of you.”

“Neuvi…” You said, staring down at the bag, still processing the fact that your lover bought so many things in one day just for you. “I do hope you’re aware that you didn’t have to do such things! This is quite shocking for me!” You commented.

He hummed. “I am aware, of course. But I happen to find myself making a few spontaneous decisions that’s inspired from my trip. Do forgive me, my dear, I did miss you after all.”

You could only sigh with a smile of defeat. “Well, it’s not as if I can reject such thoughtful gestures from you, but do go on and tell me more about your trip. How was Qiaoying Village? I read Charlotte's article about Liyue’s tea industry earlier.”

“The trip is quite refreshing. I took the opportunity to try their local spring water, and the aftertaste is much purer than what was delivered to me in Fontaine.” He said with a pleased look.

You find yourself listening intently to him as he goes on about the waters of Liyue, not being able to hide the amused look on your face from how fond he is about tasting water, and it only took a few minutes before he changed the subject to something else.

“Ah, that reminds me, I mentioned earlier that my trip happened to inspire a few spontaneous decisions, and one of them happened to be trying out ceramics.” He explains.

“My, the Iudex trying out ceramics?” You teased, causing his mouth to twitch upwards more.

“It’s quite an interesting activity. I’ve never once thought about how quotidian vessels were crafted until I participated in their very making. Nonetheless, I made something for you.” He adds.

To your shock, Neuvillette brought out a tea set with a design that reminded you of a certain sea creature. Who knew your lover would be amazing at the ceramic arts?

“Neuvi, you made these? For me?” You ask, aweing at the cute design that he made. “They’re so cute! You did such an amazing job, you made it by hand and everything!” You flattered him.

He smiled more from your compliment, placing the tea set down on the coffee table for you to touch and admire his work that he made just for you. “I thought it’d be good to give you this. It’d mean a lot to me if you’d accept.”

“Of course I will! You made this yourself, I couldn’t ask anything more than that.” You replied.

Suddenly, an idea came to your mind. “Tell you what, why don’t we use this for water tasting together when the next delivery arrives?”

“That’ll make me all the more happier, my dear.”

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @miss-lady-witch @yashe @imkaaayy @badlywrittens @0rah-s @totallynotaraidensimp @garlicforthewin

[binniebakery]

(What's The) Hot Topic?

HotTopicWorker!Gyu x Fem!Reader, Strangers to Lovers(?), Suggestive! ♡ Summary: In search for a birthday gift for your friend, you stop by your local Hot Topic where you stick out like a sore thumb. A certain employee sees a pretty girl in need of his assistance, so who is Beomgyu to say no? (In which emo gyu takes a liking to the girl dressed in delicate ribbons and bows.) ♡ Warnings: Things move a little fast here, makeout with a stranger, cursing, reader gets called fem nicknames, etcccc not proofread! ♡ A/N: ty for the request! I got so motivated to write this I hopped on my pc so quick LMAO (this user loves oreo beomgyu with a passion n will do anything to write for him) so more coquette x txt !!!! lmk if u guys want me to do other members too! Hope u enjoy~

The mall was quieter than usual today. A perfect time for you to show up in your cute heeled boots and winter coat, perfectly lined with white fur and ribbons. The sound of your shoes clicking mixing in with the atmosphere of the mall. You found your way to the store you were looking for. As you stood in front you stared at your phone with furrowed eyebrows. How were you supposed to find Yeonjun’s gift again? You walked in with eyes glued to your text messages. Nirvana, yes. You wanted a Nirvana shirt for your good friend Yeonjun’s birthday. Easy right? Or maybe he wouldn’t like that? It was hard to figure out what he had and what he didn’t have in his collection. You bit your lip as you looked at the t-shirt section in the back of the dark store. You could practically feel the stare of another shopper which made your uneasiness grow. Though you couldn’t blame them, you sort of stood out like a sore thumb. Pretty pearled headband with light ribbons tied, and a purse in the same color to match. Your whole outfit screamed sweet pastels and spring while you stood next to the bloody horror movie merchandise. You sighed in relief as you saw the previously mentioned customer get helped by an employee. Yet to your luck, you were left standing waiting like a lost deer. Maybe you should’ve just ordered something online– “Hey there, has anyone helped you yet?”

You turn to see a taller figure standing by you, his black long hair chopped into a wolf cut with platinum blonde highlights to further highlight his pale skin. He was a guy your age for sure, and he had quite an eccentric appearance. Which made him even more attractive. “Hi! Um yes sorry, I do need help with something if you don’t mind? I’m looking for a gift for a friend. I don’t really have the same style so..” you trailed off, noticing how his eyes look over your figure, a tinge of pink blooming on his ears. “Sure thing. Just tell me what kind of stuff your friend likes and I can help you, pretty girl. Name’s Beomgyu.” he grinned. You felt your heart nearly stop as you choked out an “Ah! I’m y/n.. th- thanks..” and proceeded to show him Yeonjun’s list of favorite artists and demands for his birthday. “Hm. I think I have the perfect thing for him. Follow me please.” you watch him swiftly turn around as he walks deeper into the back of the store… into the employees-only room? You stood there dumbfounded, were you supposed to go in there too? Was this a normal thing for Hot Topic? You hardly came to the store but you swear the employees-only room should be for.. Well, employees only. “Don’t worry doll, you can come back here.” He chuckles as he watches your big eyes scan around nervously. You nod and walk in with him, the door closing behind you. The room was dim, a single light bulb being the only source of light for the two of you. It wasn't too large of a room, with an employee bathroom towards the end of it, a desk with a computer sitting in the corner, and tons of shelves filled with extra merchandise waiting to be set up. Beomgyu hummed as he dug through the boxes with various artists’ names labeled on them. The room was quiet and the atmosphere felt thick. You played with the ribbons on your soft coat as you waited for him to find what he was looking for. “I have a question for you. You ever visit this store?” Beomgyu asked as he dug further, you tilted your head at the question. Was he trying to say something..? “Yes.. but I’m not really a common customer..” You nervously laugh and Beomgyu stands up with a set of items in his hands. “Mhm, I figured. No offense, but you really stick out in here. That dumbass was staring at you like you were a zoo animal.” He laughed. “Though I mean that with no offense- I wouldn’t blame him. You’re a pretty girl y’know?” He smiled as he handed you the merch in his hands. Your face flushed at the compliment. “Ah, thank you. You’re really kind.” You smile. Neither of you move. You’re looking at the floor, you really want to say something more. Ask him for his number, tell him he’s attractive as hell, or that you want to just stay in here a little longer. Alone with him. Suddenly, you feel a hand stroke a strand of your hair. You look up to see Beomgyu admiring your soft locks with gentle eyes. “Such a pretty girl.. You have a boyfriend?” He tilts his head, lips forming a smirk with tongue in cheek. You could almost pass out. Your eyes were locked on Beomgyu’s expression, his face scanning yours as he waited for your response. You could tell he was taking his time analyzing your features. You felt yourself shudder under his intense stare, you shook your head. “No actually.. I don’t..” Beomgyu’s smile widened. “Really? An angel like you? Surely I’m not your type though, someone like me with a angel like you?” “Well..” You looked away, staring at Yeonjun’s present that was still in your hands. He did have a point. You were just a sweet little thing, dressed in bows and frills, while Beomgyu wore ripped jeans and dark shirts with multiple band pins, all while sporting multiple bandaids from his skating endeavors. “I could say the same about you…Beomgyu.” His name sounded like candy coming from your glossy pink lips. He just had to hear you say it more. Beomgyu decides he’s had enough and closes the gap between you, pulling you in for a kiss.

His lips are warm and soft, leaving you craving for more. His hands snake their way around your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. You find yourself tilting your head, deepening the kiss and he groans at the feeling of you pressing yourself against him. “Wanna hear you say my name..” he mumbles against your lips and your mind is growing fuzzy. “B- Beomgyu..” you whisper and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth the second you say his name. You spend minutes like this, his hands roaming your warm and soft coat, your fingers tracing the choker on his neck. Yeonjun’s gifts long forgotten on the ground. When you both finally separate for air, Beomgyu presses his forehead against yours, admiring the way your eyes have darkened, pretty lashes glistening in the dim room’s light. “I get off in an hour babydoll. You want my number?” You find yourself nodding profusely and he smirks. “I’ll see you when I get off then.” “Promise?” You tilt your head cutely, voice soft and sweet like cotton candy, and he feels himself drawn more to you by the second. You separate from each other's arms and he helps you pick up your items. After all, you still had to head to check out. “I prom-” The door swings open as Beomgyu’s coworker walks in. “Beomgyu! What are you doing? There’s like two customers out there and- oh what-” The slightly taller male who’s nametag read Soobin tilts his head in confusion. His brows knit together as he sees your slightly disheveled hair and Beomgyu’s face smeared in your pink lipgloss. “Oh my- get the fuck out of here! Jesus man, it makes sense for Taehyun to pull something like this but you?” he groans as Beomgyu’s shit-eating grin moves him to the side, walking out with your wrist in his hand, guiding you to the counter to pay.

[collegetennisoriginstory]

Hi Allie, do you still have 10 chapters planned for CT:OS, and does that include the prologue (+ an epilogue if there will be one)? I tried searching for the answer but Tumblr search didn't come up with much except a post from a year ago, so I wasn't sure if your answer was still the same.

Ah you're right I should do an updated detailed post on ko-fi/tumblr soon, maybe after i finish the extra G scene.

But here's my general updated plan/outline:

Chap 6:

3 weeks leading up to the doubles tournament, slightly more condensed/short and sharp, with midterms and matches. I think it'll be a good switch up in pace to see your MC in their routine/settling unto life at Cargill (and living the consequences of previous choices).

G hang out scene

Convo / commitment to Tobin, Rayyan, G if not yet committed to Sam or Tobin

Chap 7

NCAO Doubles Championships (bus ride, hotel stay, big match)

See Sam briefly!

Chap 8:

Big match

Thanksgiving/fall break (G can be invited home, Sam will be home too)

Prep for the photography exhibition if in the club (+group project sesh w G)

Chap 9:

Finals week

Winter break (short vignettes of visiting either Rayyan/Tobin/G or chilling back home with Sam)

Back to school & chance to overtake Deepal or Tobin for No. 2 or 3 on the line-up

Chap 10:

Big match (potential injury)

Some snow day shenanigans

Chap 11:

Thinking of moving the Sam UCLA visit here - havent quite sorted this part out yet

Chap 12:

Another time skip, midterms

Some spring break shenanigans

Match that decides conference standings / whether Cargill makes it to round of 16 in the NCAO championships

Chap 13:

Quarter finals NCAO championship match

Finals week

"The talk" with G if romanced

Chap 14:

Travel for semis and finals

Championship Matches(!) Including Sam, and G (if romanced)

Epilogue

Athletes' dinner/banquet after (with awards & speeches)

Vignette of summer break

I'm really going to have to tighten up the writing and start WRITING LESS.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

CW: slight spoilers for the Skeleta Tour (one song they play is mentioned)

You were early. Way too early, but you couldn’t risk not being right at the barricade. Ever since they announced the tour and you spent your saved-up money on the ticket, excitement bubbled beneath your skin, and now it was finally time. With a grin and a spring in your step, you ascended the stairs to the waiting area.

Now you were certain that you were too early. There were still transporters and people carrying stuff around, but at least you weren’t alone. Someone, who apparently had dressed up as Frater Imperator, was standing, watching it all happen. Smiling, you walked up to him, hoping to find someone you could enjoy the concert with. “Your costume is amazing.”

The way the man jumped surprised you as well, and you took a small step backward. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He turned around, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Now that he was facing you, you could see even more details and, if you didn’t know any better, you would say that it was Tobias in his Frater Imperator costume. “Ah, no no, it’s okay. Mi dispiace, I was just lost in thought.” The Italian phrase surprised you. He was really taking this seriously. But you just smiled. “It’s fine, it was my fault after all. I assume you’re also here for the concert?” The man smiled, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Sì, sì. I guess I am.” He looked sad, wistful even. Everything in you told you to comfort him. So, you reached on and placed a hand on his upper arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, before pulling away again. His eyes followed your hand and when he looked up at you again, he smiled, genuine this time. “Thank you cara, it is very kind of you to comfort this old man.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Please, you’re not that old.” He laughed, and you couldn’t help but grin, proud of yourself that you managed to cheer him up.

“So, you’re a…uh…fan?” You nodded enthusiastically, your brain already brimming with details you could info dumb on this poor soul, but you managed to refrain from it, instead trying to act casual. “Yeah, you could say that. Although I’m not yet too sure about the new Papa. I really miss Copia, he was always my favorite.” You could see how he perked up when you said that, a slight smirk curling around his lips. “Oh? Well, I can take you, uhm, backstage, if you want. You can meet my fratello there.” You’ve read enough fanfiction by now to know that fratello meant brother, and your confusion slowly kept growing, but there was no way you could say no to that offer. “Really? You won’t get in trouble?”

The man laughed again. “No, no. I am the one who - how do you say…the one who calls the shots around here.” With a gentle smile, he offered you his arm, and after you hooked yours around it, he led you toward the entrance. As you walked by, you noticed a few dozen people, all dressed in some sort of uniform. And they all bowed as soon as they noticed the man by your side. But he just smiled and gently waved them off, telling them to get back to work. Confidently, he led you through the venue until you reached a hallway with multiple doors on either side. He continued to walk until you reached one that had a huge ‘V’ on it.

The man knocked. “Sei un uomo per bene, fratello? Ho un fan qui.” Instead of an answer, the door opened, and there he was. Tobias in his Papa V costume. You couldn’t help but grin in excitement. “Oh my god, it is really you.” He looked at you with a curious tilt to his eyebrow, although you could swear that he winced slightly. “Why yes, it is me. And you are, child?” He leaned against the door, a sly smile playing around his lips. Before you could answer, the man beside you growled at him. “Comportarsi, Perpetua.” Tobias, or whoever you believed to be Tobias, raised his hands before taking a few steps back and inviting you both inside.

The man you met outside led you to a couch and gestured for you to sit down. “Do you want something to drink?” You nodded and smiled. “Yes, please, anything’s fine.” And when he handed you a juice box, the one Copia liked in the lore, you chuckled. “Thank you…I don’t know your name, I’m sorry.” He smiled, reaching out his hand. “I’m Copia.” For a moment, you stared at him, confused, but you quickly decided to go along with him and introduced yourself. Reaching out, you expected him to shake your hand, but instead, he softly grabbed it and raised it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles.

“Oh, stai male, vero, fratello?” Copia turned around and glared at V, who in turn was just grinning. He was about to retort when the door was pulled open and Tobias walked in. “Hey, I made sure some fans saw me outside, we should be good…” He trailed off, his eyes finding yours. “Who…?” “What…?” You glanced between the three men, confusion slowly being pushed aside by realisation. “Oh my god-” V winced, this time visibly. “Please stop saying that.” “Shit sorry, but…you are him and you are real. All of this is real? It’s been real the whole time?” The three men stared at you for a few moments, while your eyes skipped from one to the next, but in the end, they always landed on Copia. It was he who spoke up first.

“Sì, it is real.” For the next few minutes, he told you everything. How the Clergy uses the band as a way to recruit new people, and how Tobias had agreed to be the official front man since no one except for the members and the catholic church knew about the Clergy. By the time Copia was done, Tobias had left, as well as V, who had to go to the final rehearsal for the show.

“So…no one outside the Clergy knows about any of this?” He shook his head. “Why did you trust me? For all you know, I could just go onto social media and tell everyone the truth.” He smiled, grasping both of your hands in his. “I can’t explain it entirely, but..I know I can trust you. After all, I’m your favorite Papa, sì?” You chuckled and nodded.

Silence settled over the two of you before Copia seemed to suddenly have an idea. Excitedly, he jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “Come.” You placed your hand in his and he pulled you out of the room and through the hallways, both of you laughing all the way, until you reached the concert hall, where V and the Ghouls were playing. “Here, your own concerto privato.” You grinned and turned to the stage, where V grinned and waved.

After one more glance at Copia, you started singing and dancing along, enjoying the experience. When they started playing ‘Call Me Little Sunshine’, you couldn’t help but turn to look at the man behind you, smiling and reaching your hand toward him. With a small smile, he took it, not resisting when you pulled him toward you. “Thank you. For this and for trusting me.” Finding your balance, you rose to your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his cheek. When you pulled away again, he turned to look at you, a grin now on his face. “Spero che tu sappia che non ti lascerò mai andare adesso.”

Sei un uomo per bene, fratello? Ho un fan qui...Are you decent, brother? I have a fan here. Comportarsi...Behave Oh, stai male, vero, fratello...Oh, you're down bad, aren't you, brother? Spero che tu sappia che non ti lascerò mai andare adesso....I hope you know, that I will never let you go now.

A/N: So...this got slightly out of hand. And I'm really not happy about the ending, but when I got the idea, I never got this far, so I just went with it. Also, the show was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!!

[pomefioredove]

In my bones I know that Rook is the type of guy who loves to go exploring be it forest or man-made structures. With that in mind I have an idea for a fic:

MC!Reader & Rook Hunt making weekend dates out of exploring the unknown places on Sage Island. It's their little ritual that they take great joy in! From the restricted sections of Crowley's office to a small abandoned island off the coast they enjoy taking in sights meant for no-one else.

ROOK REQUEST!!! thank you I love him so muchhh... the fact that archeology becomes an interest of his is so adorable to me <3 rook baby let me take you out and tell you about the incan empire and dead languages and

summary: weekend dates with rook type of post: fic characters: rook additional info: romantic, established relationship, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, french warning, fluffy and cute <3

"One thousand words, one thousand, can you believe that?" you ask, twirling a perfectly-sharpened pencil between your fingers. It had yet to even graze the surface of the paper in your lap.

What a waste of wood.

You slump, leaning against the rough bark of an oak tree. A movement in the foliage overhead sends a deluge of leaves onto your lap, coloring the white of the empty paper with vibrant shades of green.

Rook emerges from the verdure above with a graceful plunk at your side.

"Five hundred each, chéri," he says, picking a leaf out of your hair and ignoring the ones on the notebook.

You tilt your head to the side, watching as he scales the tree again. "Yes, but I was under the impression we'd do it together,"

"Ah, a marvelous idea!" his voice calls out from overhead. "But that can wait for later, non? Come up and see this robin's nest I've uncovered!"

You chuckle. Even with the deadline looming nearer, you couldn't help but indulge him.

Crowley's words still rung fresh in your mind: "Five hundred words on the evil of trespassing. Each!"

Admittedly, seeing the man actually get angry was both amusing and unsettling. You supposed digging around the secret chamber behind his office was pushing it, but how could you resist Rook's charming smile when he said he'd found a trap door and wished to explore it together?

How were you supposed to know that passage would end up in Crowley's office, anyway?

"Mm?" Rook's head pokes out from the leaves again. "Are you coming, Trickster?"

You had begun to fill out that nickname quite nicely.

You set aside the pencil and paper (still untouched) in favor of scaling the lowest branches of the tree. You'd become quite the climber since meeting Rook.

"Ah, the way you so carelessly toss aside your obligations, as if freeing yourself from the shackles of the modern world!" Rook sings, offering a hand to help you onto the branch he's sat atop.

You can't help a smile as he guides you onto the thick part of the branch in front of him. "It was rather symbolic, wasn't it?"

"Chéri, if only I had the time, I would write a poem for every little thing you do," he sighs dreamily. "Come, miel, join me in being wild."

He cups your chin and guides your gaze to a curve where two branches meet, only an arm's-length away. Nestled in the heart of it is a small, delicate, cup-shaped nest, filled with baby blue eggs.

"Très magnifique," he comments, his voice breathless and soft. "The miracle of life. A sign that spring has returned once more, putting Monsieur L'Hiver to rest."

"They are beautiful... will they hatch soon?"

"Ah, that depends on how you define "soon". Robins incubate for but two weeks," he says. "Soon for us, but half a lifetime for them..."

His ensuing sigh is soft and contented, almost distracting you from the feeling of his arms finding their way around your waist, and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Mm... I could stay here all day. Have you slept in a tree before, chéri?"

You've learned by now not to take such comments as jokes, although you're sure he already knows what the answer is.

You smile, your sweet tone tinged with the faintest hint of mischief. "No, not recently,"

"It has been a long time for me. Sometimes I fear I've become too domesticated... c'est bien I have you to bring out the wild animal in me again, hm?"

He chuckles to himself before promptly burying his face in the crook of your neck again, breathing you in.

You lean back into him, earning a little squeeze from his arms. Perhaps you could stay here all day, if not for...

"The essay..." you murmur.

Rook laughs again. "It can wait. I will gladly chance the ire of our headmage and my housewarden..." he clicks his tongue. "Taking risks for you is a delight I cannot help but indulge in."

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Absolutely loved When the Rooster Misses the Dawn. Do you plan to write more? Maybe a morning after scene?

Eh, why not. This one isn't quite as fun, and it is considerably longer because they led me down a slightly more angsty road. I felt like there needed to be some kind of aftermath/consequences of Gale listening at their door. But it is from Peeta and Katniss's pov's so you get to read some absolutely unhinged, down bad for his wife Peeta thoughts, if that's your thing. And it does contain Everlark sexy times and a happy ending for them (duh). Part one is here.

RATED M: for sexual content and discussions of miscarriage.

***

The Hen Tarries in Her Bed

There existed very few temptations great enough to induce Peeta Lucian Mellark, accidental Earl of Baecare, fourth in his father’s line to hold the title, to linger in bed past the rising of the sun. 

Whether they were the intended heir or not, the late Lady Mellark had demanded a certain level of industry in each of her three sons. Peeta, as the youngest, was no exception, and his body retained the training of early rising and hard work, even after the school yard incident that led to his injury. Even after his mother had passed from the world along with his father and brothers, and Peeta had inherited the title, the fortune, the lands, and all of the privileges that came with such trappings, he could never sleep past the dawn.

But his wife… ah she certainly presented the greatest temptation of them all. 

He smiled at the sight of Katniss, still slumbering in her bed. He left her to see to his morning needs, but the soft, pale glow of a lovely spring morning had begun to spread across the sky, making her appear awash with starlight, even as the stars faded from view. He found that he could not resist such a delicious temptation, even though he knew that he should. He had business to see to, and she would undoubtedly be sore after the previous night’s delights.

But in truth, had Peeta ever managed to resist her? He had not.

He discarded the dressing robe and slippers he had donned, and instead of beginning the day’s work, he slipped back beneath the covers, finding the area he had vacated still warm with his own heat. He sighed, content. Carefully, so as to not wake her just yet, he drew his body close to hers and wrapped his arm securely around her. Nestling his face in her riotously messy hair, he smiled and savored her soft sigh, the movements of her body that brought her closer to him, even in her sleep.

He, however, could not sleep, so instead he watched the dawn paint the sky in rosy tones. He caressed Katniss’s still naked form and attempted to reign in his reawakened desire for her. Granted, he did not think he could deem it reawakened. His love for her had never slumbered, and neither had his desire. He’d merely had cause sufficient enough these past few months to firmly control himself where his wife was concerned.

Perhaps his mother’s strict training had at last worked to achieve the desired effect of nobility, beyond Peeta’s inability to tarry in bed. The late Lady Mellark refused to allow any of her sons flights of passion or fancy to the point that Peeta’s brother’s often joked that they resided in a monastery, not an estate, although Peeta knew both of his older brothers had engaged with lovers while away at school. In Peeta’s case, there existed reasons why lovers were more difficult to secure, and he sometimes feared that such austerity in his upbringing caused him to completely lack control once he discovered the abundant bliss to be found in his marriage bed with Katniss.

Likely, his mother would not have approved of his marriage to Katniss at all, had she lived, and certainly not if he still somehow inherited the title, but Peeta had not cared. Not in the end. 

Katniss had claimed his attention nearly from their first meeting, and although he did try to court other potential brides whom his mother and father would have considered to be far more suitable candidates for the next countess, Peeta’s heart was not in the pursuit of their hands. 

He felt himself continually drawn back to Miss Everdeen’s side, attracted to her wit and her willingness to tease him and verbally spar with him as they stood on the fringes of ballrooms. Or when they would meet in the park, both on horseback, and together avoided the need to converse with society at large, preferring the quiet company of one another. They often met on the streets, usually while shopping for a book, and they quickly fell into a friendship through discussing one tome or another, recommending a book the other had yet to read. She expressed an interest in his art when he mentioned his feeble attempts at painting when they met in the galleries one afternoon, although he waited until after they were betrothed to fully share that aspect of himself with her.

He appreciated the way in which she showed concern for his health, often slowing her steps and finding interesting sights to give him time to rest, but somehow she still refused to treat him as an invalid.

She claimed that she hated to be the center of any form of attention and everyone seemed intent on determining if she were a ruthless fortune hunter or an heiress, so she preferred to appease her guardians with appearances at balls and other society functions, but had no intentions of pursuing a husband at all. She had far more interest in the food being served than in the gentlemen seeking her attention, and so Peeta had gladly secured refreshments for her whenever she desired at one event after another.

Yet he knew it to be an entirely futile endeavor, courting Miss Everdeen. Peeta… well he did intend to marry. As an earl, it was expected of him, but he despised the manner in which young ladies saw his injury as a sort of obstacle worth their endurance if it secured for them his title and fortune. Furthermore, he knew many of the young ladies viewed him as a desirable husband, solely due to the fortune and title, but as an entirely unsuitable and unromantic suitor, since his leg limited his desire to engage in many of the very basic courtship requirements -- namely… dancing.

Until that fateful night when he had noticed Katniss attempting to politely refuse the request of a dance from a gentleman of questionable honor. Peeta had stepped in and falsely declared that his own name was on her dance card for the next set and apologized for his tardiness in escorting her to the floor.

He could not ascertain from her expression if she were furious or relieved or indifferent to his interference, yet she had not hesitated in resting her gloved hand on his proffered arm and following him out to the floor. They had stumbled, quite awkwardly, through one dance and a half before Peeta’s leg demanded that he cease such foolishness. His pride smarted fiercely, far worse than the pain in his leg, as he excused himself before the set ended, humiliated at his own weaknesses and furious with himself that he must humiliate her in such a manner, abandoning her partnerless on the floor.

Better that than continuing to humiliate her with his clumsy dancing, he had reasoned as he leaned heavily on his cane and made his escape.

Peeta had escaped the crowded ballroom into the garden and limped as quickly as he could manage to a secluded spot in the hedges and collapsed on a stone bench. He’d barely caught his breath, and then she was there. Angry, yes, but not for the reasons he had suspected.

And the kiss.

Oh the way she had kissed him that night. Peeta supposes he ought to have been shocked by her forward behavior, but even then, he could not bring himself to deny her. He had indulged in the kisses, aching and greedy and hopeful. He had pursued more kisses, drunk and lightheaded with love and desire for her. Convinced that this encounter would be his only hope for a passionate interlude.

She did not wish to marry and he must. How could he expect anything but a cold, impersonal marriage bed from any of the young girls sniffing after him for title and fortune but who cared not to know who he was as a man. Especially after he knew Katniss’s kiss. Knew the heat and warmth of her fire. Knew the heady tonic of her regard for him. Perhaps she did not love him, but he knew that she respected him. They were at the very least friends. And he was already hopelessly in love with her, he knew. It would be impossible for him to refrain from comparing every kiss in his future to this one.

Of course, they had been discovered. Thankfully, it had been before Peeta’s self control slipped so much as to completely ruin her, although it had been a near thing. 

It had been Katniss's sponsor in town who discovered them in such an amorous embrace. The rather intimidating Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, whose suddenly gained fortune remained cloaked in mystery and dark rumors as to the source. It mattered not. Her sponsor saw her into her mother’s arms and then returned to Peeta. He had only to assure Mr. Abernathy that he fully intended to call on Miss Everdeen in the morning and request the honor of her hand in order to avoid a duel, although Mr. Abernathy’s words that it would take some convincing on Peeta’s part to secure the lady’s agreement kept him awake well into the morning.

He hated that he must ask her to go against her own wishes. He hated that he must ask for her hand when she had no desire to marry. But nor could he bear to be the reason for a stain on her reputation, or that of her sister’s by proxy. He hated himself for knowing that if nothing else, the threat to Miss Primrose’s reputation would likely induce Katniss to accept him. 

He tossed and turned for long hours, despising himself for allowing himself to become swept away in the moment and ignoring Katniss’s clearly stated desires.

Still, Peeta had woken before dawn and called at the Abernathy house at the earliest hour that would not be considered rude. Surprisingly, it had required very little persuasion to secure Katniss’s agreement. She asked merely a few inconsequential favors of Peeta that he would have seen to anyway. As her husband, of course he would provide a home, security, funds, and comfort for her mother and sister. She hadn’t even needed to ask, but those were her meager requests in exchange for her hand.

During the weeks leading up to their wedding, Peeta could not determine what Katniss might be feeling. She did not act the ecstatic, besotted bride, but neither did she eschew his company. They continued on much as they had before the kiss.

Except that it continued to happen. Whenever he found himself alone with Katniss and any modicum of privacy, they could not seem to resist one another. He began to doubt the entire thing. He wondered if Katniss kissed him so frequently and fervently so as to secure their marriage. Perhaps he had read her intentions entirely wrong. Perhaps he knew nothing about her at all. And so Peeta braced himself for a rude awakening once they were married. 

An awakening that never materialized.

Every night, during the early days of their marriage, he went to her bed expecting an indifferent and dutiful wife, submitting to his carnal desires only out of a sense of obligation for the security and financial care he gave to her family. Instead, he had found Katniss not only willing but almost forceful in her own carnal demands, and he was helpless to resist such a temptation. Even the flimsiest of beliefs that he might be wanted rather than merely tolerated overwhelmed everything else.

Even when Peeta knew her to be tired or homesick for her family, the moment Katniss kissed him and pulled him into her bed, he lost all sense of decency or consideration. Her lips on his always seemed to create a lapse in his decorum. Not that Katniss ever seemed reluctant in their lovemaking. Quite the opposite. But after every night of vigorous, prolonged intercourse, Peeta always feared that he had become some sort of mad beast. Uncontrolled and unable to stop, even past the point when he knew his love would become exhausted, past the point when he knew she would face soreness, aching muscles, and perhaps other ailments the following day.

Every morning that he woke beside her, his memories of the previous night stoking his desire awake again, he braced himself for a cold rebuff of his advances that never came. Again, quite the opposite. They made love in the morning nearly as frequently as they did at night. 

Eventually, he began to hope that she might love him.

And then the babe. 

He had, of course, been elated when Katniss had informed him merely three months into their marriage that she was with child. For a time, they had shared a blissful happiness. He could scarcely believe that he might have so many of his heart’s desires. But providence did not see fit to allow them to continue in their bliss.

There was his own bitter disappointment at the loss of their child, but Katniss bore it far harder than he. Peeta struggled with his feelings of helplessness. He could do no more than hold her and soothe her, love her as best he could, and withhold himself from her bed for as long as possible.

At first, such restraint had been easy. Her body would not allow it. As she began to heal in body, she asked him to sleep beside her again, for comfort. He had agreed, but within days, Katniss made several frantic, tearful attempts to seduce him. His body proved more than willing, but his mind thankfully managed to win the battle. She was not ready. Not if she were sobbing as she issued the invitation into her bed.

She could not bear it, she sobbed into his chest night after night. She could not bear the loss.

Heartbroken and fearful for both of their sanity, Peeta attempted a new approach. He held her on the settee in her chambers, until she fell into slumber, and then he would carry her to her bed, leaving her there alone and retreating to his own. The first month of that had been torture. The cold way she would greet him in the mornings, both of them fully dressed and pale with lack of sleep, gutted him. He nearly caved when the doctor announced her body ready to bear the strain of intercourse, ready to bear another child.

The pronouncement came the same day as a letter from her childhood friend, Colonel Gale Albert Hawthorne, announcing his intention to visit them. As she relayed the news to her husband, Katniss had smiled. It was the first spark of real happiness Peeta had seen in her since the babe had been lost.

In response, Peeta did what any sensible man would do. He had gotten himself drunk for the first time in his life that night and locked himself in his study, fearful of what he might do if he went anywhere near his wife’s bed.

In the morning, jealousy and despair and alcohol still warred within him. Until he woke to find his wife sleeping on the sofa, her arm stretched over the edge and her hand clasped around his as he slept on the floor. He had expected that at last, with the man she could have married set to visit them, Katniss would see Peeta as he truly was. Worthless.

Instead, Katniss had begun a campaign of seduction, conceived with near military precision to attack Peeta’s weaknesses and defenses. The only reasons Peeta had managed to resist her at all was owing to the moments of obvious, deep grieving Katniss still displayed, and his awareness that once she saw her undoubtedly dashing, frighteningly capable, military friend again, she may very well decide Peeta was no longer worthy of her regard. 

He held out as long as he could, watching her recovery as closely as he could without discomfitting her. Gale had arrived as expected, and as expected, Peeta found him to be every bit the dashing hero he had feared to meet. Tall, handsome, smartly garbed in his uniform and bearing the responsibilities of his rank and success with clear ease. Peeta found himself observing his wife’s interactions with the colonel with far too much interest and fear. 

Yet, although there were moments when Peeta’s heart twisted with the certainty that he had already lost his wife to this man’s love, Katniss never wavered in her efforts to resume marital relations with Peeta, culminating in the note she had sent the night prior, after she had retired to her chambers. It had come to him via a footman, and found him in the drawing room, mired in a conversation with the colonel, about the empire’s prospects for expansion, and when he read the note, it had required all of Peeta’s fortitude and self-control to refrain from running out on the colonel mid-sentence.

Then, somehow, the conversation had turned to Katniss herself as Gale regaled Peeta with several anecdotes about their shared childhood. Peeta had only grown more uncomfortable and less sure of himself as the night wore on. Doubting the sincerity of Katniss’s words in her missive. Until an offhand comment from Gale had caught his attention.

“She was always such a quiet, serious child. I expected her to grow into a quiet, serious woman. Who would have guessed our Katniss could sing with such beauty?”

It took Peeta far too long to piece it together. The words and their meaning. Far too long for him to reply. “Do you mean to say she did not sing when she was younger?”

“Not that I ever heard. She had no use for anything she considered pure amusement. While other young ladies concern themselves with frivolous pursuits such as ribbons and rainbows and embroidering cushions, Katniss concerned herself with far more substantial matters. The running of a household in her father’s place, and the like. What need has a woman of her station for singing except to catch a husband? And you’ll know, of course, that she had not intended to pursue marriage…”

It felt an accusation, this reminder of Katniss’s wish to remain free of matrimony. Yet somehow, Peeta found himself defending Katniss’s capitulation to him rather than defend himself, who was the clear target of the implied accusation.

“She didn’t. Pursue it, that is,” Peeta supplied, and Gale had given him an odd look. Peeta had been too caught up attempting to decipher the rest to pay too much attention to the expression. It made no sense. Katniss had told him that she sang with her father as a child, that her education in song had been informal but beautiful, and comprised many of her fondest memories of her father. She had once told Peeta that when she sang, she felt close to her father again, in a happy way. She sang all the time in the months before they’d lost the babe. And yet here sat Gale, her childhood friend whom Peeta feared as a threat to their marriage, admitting that he had no knowledge of this aspect of Katniss’s childhood, of her heart.

What else then, did Gale not know about Katniss?

Hope sprang to life again in Peeta’s chest. Using the first lull in conversation to make his excuses, Peeta had rushed upstairs and dismissed his valet as soon as he was prepared for bed. Still, he paced and worried and doubted, reading and reading the note again and again. Mulling over her song tonight, Gale’s admissions.

Love me again, she had demanded. Did she not know? Did she not know how fiercely love for her had always beat in his breast? Clearly she had not. Resolved to show her, Peeta had gone to her, intending only to provide for her pleasure and then hold her while they slept. But of course, Katniss had other intentions, and once he was again naked in bed with her, Peeta found that he could not resist. 

And he had been right. He had become a mad man. A demon in her bed, yet she had not allowed him to stop. She had in fact encouraged him and demanded his passion. Despite his better judgment, his body awakened the way it did in those early months of marriage. Ready to plunge into her again. And again. And again. Until they were too tired even to dress for sleep.

Peeta knew it would be the same this morning, even after last night. Perhaps especially after last night. He dared not wake her to satisfy his own desires, however, not after he kept her awake so late into the night, into the morning even, with their repeated lovemaking. 

He chastised himself for demanding so much of her, for asking so much of her. But, God help him, he desperately and constantly desired his wife, and once Katniss initiated their lovemaking, Peeta almost always found it impossible for him to stop until they both collapsed, satisfied, exhausted, and completely spent.

He should not wake her, he thought as he continued to watch the sun’s progress as it rose and still his wife slept in his arms. He should not. And so he fought a familiar battle with his own body.

Eventually, she stirred in his arms and Peeta found his hand wandering closer and closer to places where bliss could be found. Katniss murmured in her sleep and then stilled. Her breathing halted and Peeta ceased his touches, waiting for her to notice her body’s fatigue and unleash her anger on him for his inconsiderate behaviour.

“Peeta? Why did you stop?” she asked instead and Peeta sighed. He pressed a kiss to her temple and rolled his body away from hers.

“Because you must be tired and sore this morning.”

“I am,” she said and turned to him, her brow furrowed. “But that is no excuse for you to tease me and then to cease.”

“I had not--” he stopped talking at the knock on her door that preceded the turning of the key and the entrance of a servant.

“Lady Mellark, shall I see to your needs?” Eliza, her ladies’ maid, halted and gasped as she saw them. “Your pardon, my lord! My lady! I had no idea!”

She bobbed a curtsy and left, locking the door again behind her. Peeta glanced at Katniss and noted her furious blush. While Katniss was recovering, she often locked the door in an attempt to hide her grief from even the servants. Peeta had gotten quite irate with her over that and the servants had standing orders to ignore the locked door to her chamber, to ensure that Lady Mellark had ample food and had not worsened during her periods of rest.

“You did not rescind the locked door order, did you?” Katniss accused him. Of course he had not. It still felt necessary until a few days ago, and then her note last night had him too distracted to rescind the order.

“And with that, my lady, I believe I shall depart,” Peeta declared and reached for his crutch, but before he could grasp it, Katniss gripped his shoulder and pushed him back onto the mattress.

“You will not. You will wait here.” Katniss clambered from the bed then, and Peeta lay there, wondering why he did not simply leave the room. She returned shortly after and slid naked back into the bed. Peeta gripped the sheets beneath him and swallowed, praying for forbearance.

He would not make demands of her body this morning. He would not.

“Do you intend to ignore me, husband? Or shall we sleep a little longer in one another’s arms?”

“My love, we have a guest,” Peeta reminded her and yet he could not resist. He returned his body to his earlier position, wrapped protectively around her.

“He has been here long enough to grow comfortable. He can amuse himself,” Katniss stated as she wriggled in his arms. Peeta hissed and gripped her hip to halt her motions.

“Have a care, my love. I do not wish to hurt you.”

Katniss scoffed at his words but stilled her body, and gradually, Peeta relaxed enough to slip into a light slumber, warm and content to at last be in her bed again, to know that their love had not been diminished by the months of denial.

***

Katniss waited for her husband’s breathing to calm. The steady puffs of air against her neck did little to calm her own awakened needs, but she was satisfied that Peeta at least slumbered for now. She knew that he woke before dawn every morning, if he slept at all. She knew that he had likely spent the morning silently berating himself for what had happened in their bed last night, despite all the evidence she had heaped before him that she had wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. 

She had been relieved at that. Some part of her knew that Peeta’s restraint since they lost the babe was due to his consideration for her well being, both in body and in spirit, yet it had infuriated her. Ever since that first kiss they shared in the garden, Katniss had delighted in her husband’s bashful restraint at first and gloried in his absolutely mad passion once she had broken through his restraint. 

It was always the same with him, this belief in his own insignificance, this insistence that he not burden her with himself or his feelings, that he must distance himself to protect her, from what she knew not. And then once she had found the crack in his armour and split it open, the immense outpouring of love and need and passion that Peeta could no longer contain.

Today, she sensed that he needed rest. And perhaps the haze of his sleepiness would allow her to slip in again and ignite his desire for her enough to overcome his silly inhibitions about hurting her. Of course her body was sore this morning. How could it not be, with the impassioned way Peeta had demanded her satisfaction several times the previous night? Katniss did not intend to let that stop her. She had not let it stop her in the early months of their marriage, and she would not let it stop her now.

She let him sleep until the morning sun blazed through the window. Of course, Peeta was correct about their guest. Gale would be awake and about the house by now, but she did not intend to let that stop her either. Eliza had already proven herself time and again as a resourceful and thoughtful maid. She would likely provide a suitable explanation to Gale as to the whereabouts of the lord and lady of the house.

In the meantime, Katniss let her hand rest on Peeta’s thigh and began to caress him, the way he had been caressing her as she woke earlier. She felt the stirring of his desire against her backside and, unrelenting, continued her caressing assault on him.

His breath hitched and his fingers clenched on her hip. 

“Katniss,” he groaned and she slid her hand between them. “My love.”

“Why do you fight what we both desire, my lord? My love,” she whispered and gasped as his hand slid around her body, delving into her already considerable arousal.

“Because you are in pain. Because I need you to understand that while I grieve the child we lost, I cannot bear to put you at risk for the hope of another.”

She gasped again and whimpered, wriggling in his arms as his deft fingers and his pained words proved to her again how well her husband knew her.

“I want you, Peeta,” she sighed and moved her hips, inviting him to come into her as they lay like that, his body curled around hers, his chest pressing warm and solid to her back. “I yearn for your touch for the sake of your touch. I want you because I want you. Not because I am desperate for another child.”

“But you do desire another child,” he murmured. She turned her head and gazed up at him, allowing all the sorrow and love she felt to show in her expression as she nodded.

“Yes. Yes, my love. I want a child. Ours. Your eyes, your laugh, your ridiculous curls on his head. But I can wait for them. I cannot wait much longer for you. I cannot bear this distance between us any longer. Do not place it there again.”

His eyes closed and he leaned his forehead against hers, and yet he gripped her thigh and opened her a little more. She gasped as he entered her, swift and sure and deep.

“Oh my love, yes,” she whimpered as he began to move. She smiled with the ecstasy and stroked his cheek and his hair as they gasped and whispered to one another. Her body twisted and turned with the need. Her fingernails scraped at his scalp as she moaned and flew higher, closer to her crisis with each sinuous movement of their bodies together.

She reached hers first, as she knew she would, crying out and then clinging to him as his mouth muffled her sounds of ecstasy. His kiss only heightened her pleasure in her release and she quaked like a storm in his arms, certain that only his hold on her prevented her complete destruction.

As she floated back down from her rapture, she smiled for a moment and then frowned. “My love. You did not join me.”

“I did not,” he admitted, kissing her perspiring brow and then her eyelids, then her lips. “I’ve no wish to hurt you.”

“Then you will love me until you finish as well,” she stated simply. “Let me--”

“No,” he said, his fingers tightening on her hip and his blonde hair shimmering in the bright morning light as he shook his head. “I will take care of myself.”

At this, Katniss scowled. She moved her hips and gripped tight to his hair as he grunted and met her movement. “You will not.”

“You said you could wait for a child.”

“I can. And I will if I must, but you will not deny me what we both desire, Peeta,” she murmured and grinned at the sound of his tormented groan. At the feel of his restraint snapping once again.

Words of love poured from his mouth unchecked as he altered their embrace. He came to her as she lay on her back beneath him now. He moved above her, inside her. She clung to him, her limbs tight around his body, her hands scratching desperately at his back as she arched into their love. Into the inevitable pleasure of having him inside her, moving as though they had been formed for one another. It felt as though starlight coursed in her veins and perhaps it was the stars that had determined them for one another. She knew it was the sort of thing Peeta himself might say, and in fact he did say such things in the early days of their marriage.

Even before that, when they were but friends, together avoiding the matchmaking schemes of others, at times he would say things that hinted at an undying love for her.

Those words had frightened her then but she craved them now. She pulled his mouth closer to hers so that she might breathe them into her lungs as they poured from his lips, his love a vital source of life to her body.

She shook her head in disbelief at the power his love still held over her and whimpered as she felt her body approaching another climax. He must feel it too, she sensed as the expression in his eyes shifted from awe to determination. His fists clenched in the bedclothes beside her ribs and he leaned into her, his movements steady and constant, allowing her to tip into the flames of ecstasy first. 

She felt him following her, though, even through the waves of release. He followed her with a tremendously loud shout and wild, almost punishing thrusts of his hips. His body would not seem to countenance restraint in that moment and as soon as he passed through it, she pulled him to her in a tight, unbreakable embrace.

He buried his face in her bosom and seemed to be sobbing. It frightened her a little, his sudden release of feeling. She had once asked him why he so often held back as he did from their passion, until it became uncontainable. He had admitted to her that his father once told him that intercourse was the duty of the nobility to continue the lines. That it should be cold and dispassionate by necessity because passion clouded the judgement and therefore, the late Lord Mellark had taught his son, was the sole luxury of lower echelons of society.

How wretched, Katniss had thought when Peeta first told her that. Her own mother had come from a lower line of the gentry and married a steward. At the time, it must have been scandalous, but they had been happy and loved one another deeply. Katniss herself had married Peeta not because of his title, but because she loved him, although she had not yet admitted it to herself at the time, and Peeta loved her. Despite his father’s lessons on passion, Peeta showered her in affection and passion alike. 

No one could deny his love for her. 

Much later, they arose from bed and dressed. Peeta aided her with her corset and gown, which delighted her. It had been far too long since he had performed these small tasks for her, engaged in these marital intimacies. He assisted her in donning her stockings even, smiling up at her and kissing her thighs above the embroidered garter ribbons he ordered for her as a wedding gift. She clung to the bedclothes as he did so, thinking of the day he gave them to her. The flower of her namesake twisted around words stitched in a watery blue, like the lakes where one could find Katniss blooms.

Here where I wish to always stay, to know your embrace.

He confessed to her that it had felt perfectly scandalous when he ordered them for her, that it had taken him a long time to pluck up the courage to give them to her, uncertain as he was of her reaction. 

When he did give them to her several days after their wedding, along with a pair of luminously silky stockings, Katniss had blushed and wavered for a moment. Was she indeed allowed such a scandalously intimate thing? Of course she was, she finally decided. They were married. She sat up in their bed, clutching the neck of her night shift closed for some silly reason, and beckoned him to her.

“Help me with them?”

He had, even though she would not wear such a thing to sleep and it was already late at night. His touch as he slid the stockings up her calves, the brush of his fingers as he tied the garters in place had aroused her beyond imagining. When he had finished and sat back to admire them on her, Katniss reached for him and dragged him to bed.

Moments later, she had come apart with Peeta embraced between her legs, their bodies undulating in harmony and Katniss moaning his name like a chorus while his fingers toyed with the ribbons still holding the stockings in place.

Remembering that night, Katniss watched as Peeta once again tied the garters in place and turned his head to kiss each of her knees before he stood. She reached out and grasped two handfuls of his still loose shirt. They gazed into one another’s eyes and Katniss wondered if he could anticipate her words before she spoke. 

Instead of speaking, she tugged on the fabric in her hands and Peeta tumbled back into bed with her.

Much later, with some difficulty, Katniss let him go as Peeta rose from the bed and stretched. 

“Do you intend to remain in bed and neglect our guest all day, my love?” he teased and Katniss threw the nearest pillow at him. He deflected it with a wicked grin on his face and shrugged on his dressing robe. “Or shall I ring up for food to prolong your stay in the sheets.”

“It seems a little late for that. Order a large luncheon today, and perhaps I shall have a bath, since my wicked husband seems intent on exhausting me.”

Peeta scoffed at her words, but the grin hadn’t moved from his face. He rang for Eliza and retrieved Katniss’s key from her drawer before unlocking the door and opening it.

“My lord,” Eliza curtsied again.

“My lady requests a hot bath, although it is abominably late in the day.” Peeta’s grin remained unrepentant as he made the declaration, but Eliza shared a knowing look with Katniss.

“Right away, my lord. My lady.”

She disappeared and Peeta shut the door, his eyes pausing on the floor as he bent over to retrieve something.

“What is it?”

“A note. For you,” Peeta said, his tone and the mere presence of the note giving her pause.

“For me? From whom?”

“A lover, perhaps,” Peeta murmured and ran his finger along the edge. Katniss scoffed at his words.

“Well then, hand it over, although I have no idea why you feel the need for subterfuge when you can simply tell me your thoughts,” she said and held her hand out for the note. Her gaiety wavered as Peeta shook his head.

“It is not from me.” He showed her the address and her heart dropped to her stomach and she lowered her hand as she recognized the penmanship. She knew that her face showed Peeta a terrible untruth as he winced. “I see. I had thought…”

“Peeta, no. That is not… Gale is not my lover.” She rose hurriedly from the bed, and Peeta clutched the letter to his breast. Fear rose up in her. “Here. I will toss it in the fire.”

“Are you not even a little curious what he writes?”

“Not if it is going to lead you into doubts. Read it yourself, then,” she huffed and sat again on the bed. 

“Very well.” Peeta shrugged and tore into the note before she could react. “My darling Katniss, When this letter finds you, I will already be away--”

“Away? What can he mean?” Katniss asked, rising once more. 

“I do not know if you interrupt,” he said ut his eyes only scanned and he did not read aloud. This time, when Katniss reached for the paper, Peeta handed it over without a fight.

“I do not trust myself to continue reading without destroying something.”

My darling Katniss,

When this letter finds you, I will already be away. Perhaps I should have waited, as leaving in such haste will no doubt arouse your husband’s suspicions. I could not bear to continue a moment longer in a household where you are forced to enact such an elaborate charade. I must confess, I did lose hope briefly last night. I must explain.

After a fortnight in your home, I was convinced you must be miserable in your marriage. You are not yourself around that man. Sickly and pale, dejected and lacking all your former vibrancy. It is as though you are a watercolor caught in a current, all of your bright colors draining from you, and I, the helpless witness. 

You wrote to me, fearful of losing me. You begged me to write to you, but I know now that those pleas were mere shadows of what I must do for you. Last night, I resolved to liberate you from your prison. I came to your chambers, intending to declare myself and beg you to away with me. Instead I happened upon a most horrifying spectacle. A charade of desire enacted by yourself--

Katniss could not stop the sound of mortification that clawed its way from her throat. She looked up to find her husband with his hands braced on her mantel, staring into the fire, and somehow she knew that he had at least read to this part.

-- I must confess that at first, I believed it. I credited your performance as proof that I had in fact been mistaken. Perhaps you did indeed love your husband and desire your marriage. I resolved to depart today, a strategic retreat, an admission of defeat, but then your maid gave me hope. She claimed you to be indisposed yet again this morning and I knew that your monstrous husband must be the cause.

We were once meant to be wed, Katniss, my beloved, surely you must recall. We had an agreement, you and I. You swore you had no interest in marriage save to a man you described to me that day. I knew that man to be myself and I believed your love constant enough to induce you to wait for me. I do not accuse you of inconstancy now. I still do not know what dire tragedy forced you into marriage, but I am convinced it must be the worst form of torture and coercion for you to submit yourself to such abominable charades.

My love for you has never wavered, and I sense that yours for me remains as constant as ever. If I am right, my darling, I beg of you… come to me. Meet me at The Hanging Tree Inn along Greenbriar Road. I will await you at midnight and we will escape together.

All my love,Gale

“Escape together? How could he possibly suggest it? Has he no concept of the shame and ignominy his family would face if he deserted his post?”

Peeta turned slowly to face her, and she could see in the glittering fury in his eyes that she had spoken amiss.

“Is that… truly your only objection to this letter?” Peeta asked, his voice low and almost menacing. “Not the suggestion that you abandon our marriage for him, or his clear certainty that you would agree? Not the claim that you were engaged to him? Not the insinuation that you married me out of desperation? Not the admission that he listened at our door while we made love last night?”

His voice cracked on the last complaint and he tore his gaze away from her, whispered one more to the floor. “Or his assertion that I am draining you of all your vitality.”

“Peeta,” she gasped and stood from the bed, hurrying towards him. He stepped back and held up his hands as though to ward her off.

A knock interrupted and Peeta snatched her dressing gown up, hastily draped it over her shoulders before granting entrance to the servants. They brought in the tub and bucket after bucket of steaming water. Katniss and Peeta waited in silence. She chewed on her lip as she searched for the right words to reassure him, and came up uselessly hopelessly empty. How to untangle the mess of her feelings for Gale and how Peeta disrupted every fiber of her being? She couldn’t even fathom how or when to start.

“Thank you,” Peeta said to the servants as they finished and left, sounding shockingly calm. Kind as always.

He stood next to the tub then and motioned towards it. Already she could smell the soothing fragrance Eliza had added. She could see the steam curling up from it and longed to plunge her body into its depths. She longed even more to breach this sudden distance between them. 

“My lady,” Peeta croaked. She went to him and he helped her remove her robe, offered his hand in assistance and saw her seated in the tub. Then he bowed to her, turned on his heel, and left her. As soon as she heard the soft click of his door closing between them, Katniss buried her face in her hands and allowed herself to weep. Because she knew what she must do.

After her bath, she ordered her horse saddled and penned one sentence on a piece of paper, entrusting it to Eliza, to see it delivered to Peeta once she had left. She grimaced, still sore from the vigor of Peeta’s lovemaking, as she mounted her horse and rode the handful of miles to The Hanging Tree Inn. It was not even tea time, yet her stomach growled ominously as she rode, from hunger or anxiety, she could not be certain.

When she entered the inn, she was directed to one of the private dining rooms and pain sliced through her as Gale smiled at the sight of her. He was heartbreakingly handsome, she admitted, and she regretted the pain she must inevitably cause. He stood and opened his arms.

“You came. I knew you would.” His gaze darted over her shoulder and his smile widened. “And you came alone. Good.”

“I only came alone because I knew that you would not believe what I must tell you unless I did so in person and alone.” Gale’s smile faltered and Katniss gathered her courage.

***

There were very few temptations in this world that Peeta Lucian Mellark, Earl of Baecare and fourth in his father’s line to hold the title, feared. His mother had prided herself on instilling iron strong self control in all three of her sons. Unfortunately, she never managed to break her own husband of his drinking, and after years of cleaning up his father’s messes together with his brothers, of attempting to hide their father’s inebriation as often as possible to avoid their mother’s wrath, Peeta feared his own vulnerability to excessive drink. He never drank more than one, perhaps two drinks at a social engagement, and rarely ever did he drink at home.

He stood in the drawing room of his estate, the one to which he withdrew to seek solitude after a brawl in the schoolyard saw his leg irreparably broken and himself temporarily ejected from school, until his father had levied his wealth and title to gain Peeta’s return. His mother’s disappointment and creative punishments ensured Peeta never got caught fighting again. He withdrew here again after the fire destroyed the true estate of the title, killing his entire family while Peeta was away seeing a doctor who promised he could at last straighten Peeta’s twisted leg.

He rushed home to see his family buried and never returned to find out if the doctor’s promises held true.

Peeta had thought, when he brought Katniss here, that perhaps he could at last chase away the loneliness and misery that seemed to seep beneath the drapes of every room in the house. He clutched the glass in his right hand. His first drink poured and waiting to be consumed. He glanced again at Katniss’s maddeningly brief and unclear note.

I am not leaving.

Not leaving? Why then did he watch her mount her horse and ride the mare in the direction of town, towards the inn where Colonel Gale Hawthorne asked her to meet him. It was not too late, Peeta supposed. Would they dine and take a room at the inn? Consummate their love before beginning their journey? Perhaps he could follow and challenge Gale to a duel.

Challenge Gale, a trained soldier and colonel in the army, to a duel, what foolish nonsense.

He must indeed be the idiot his mother always declared him to be, if he believed he could earn and hold Katniss’s heart. 

He considered his drink. He should just begin it now. Get himself impossibly drunk for the second time in his life and admit that Katniss would not be returning. It was close to dinner.

A shout interrupted his wallowing and he lifted his eyes, spotted the cloud of dust at the end of the lane that indicated a rider. He dared not hope. He dared not move.

Instead, Peeta waited in the drawing room and clung to his drink and the note as the rider approached. As her form took familiar shape and he recognized the same riding habit she wore when she left. His heart clenched and he dropped the glass, spilling the alcohol on the carpet. He retrieved the glass. He grasped for his cane and turned towards the door as she dismounted.

Perhaps she forgot her luggage, he reasoned. She did leave without any bags.

The door opened then and Katniss strode into the room. She seemed confident until their eyes locked and then she wavered. Her mouth opened, but no sound came forth.

“You left,” he croaked and she scowled at him.

“I did not. Did you not read the note?”

“The note? Of course I read the note, all four unconvincing words of it.”

She blushed and dropped her gaze.

“I owe you an explanation.”

“Indeed.”

“There was never a formal engagement between Gale and I.”

She stopped talking and Peeta stared. Blinked. And grew impatient.

“I feel as though there is still much to be explained.”

“I know there is, but I do not know where to even start.”

“Expand on the lack of engagement. That is a start.”

“You should know that he kissed me.”

“He… kissed you. When?”

“Just now, at the inn. It is inconsequential and I stopped him but--”

Rage rushed up inside him, replacing at last the blank numbness that had taken over when he saw Katniss riding away from him. He threw the empty glass and it shattered against the wall. Katniss flinched and stared at him, wide eyed.

“You rode away from here, met another man -- who has professed his love for you -- at an inn, tell me that he kissed you, and expect me to accept it as inconsequential?”

“I would explain if you would let me!”

“I think I would rather call him out. But the real question remains. Would it serve any purpose?”

She scowled at him. Not her usual scowl. Peeta loved that scowl. He often teased it onto her face simply to tease it back off again, into a smile or a laugh, sometimes even a kiss. This was not that scowl. This scowl was formidable and terrifying.

“Serve any purpose? Of course it would serve no purpose! It would be pointless and stupid to call him out.”

Her words only stoked his rage. “Stupid? Stupid how? Do explain to me how it would be stupid to challenge the man who kissed my wife and asked her to run away with him?”

“Stupid because Gale is a crack shot. He would kill you.”

“And that would bother you?” Peeta asked, reckless and uncaring in the moment.

“Of course it would!”

“I fail to see why. You would be a wealthy widow.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Peeta,” she shouted as she charged towards him. “I do not want you dead! Are you really going to throw away our love because Gale kissed me once? Against my will?”

Her words immobilized him. Our love. She sometimes called Peeta “my love,” but he had accepted it as a term of endearment no different than when she called him “my lord” or “husband," not as a declaration of love.

“Yes, of course it would be stupid to challenge him to a duel when you have no hope of winning, and it would be pointless because I came back! I never intended on leaving because I love you!”

Her words and her clear fury shocked him enough that he simply stood there as she grasped his lapels and pulled on them, nearly ripping the fabric as she smashed her mouth to his. He flinched then, the image of Gale kissing her surging up in his mind. Tormenting him with the thought that she might still be able to taste the other man on her lips, even as she kissed him. He attempted to retreat, but Katniss would not allow it. Her mouth savaged his until his resistance broke. 

There were few temptations in this world that could induce Peeta Lucian Mellark, Earl of Baecare and the fourth of his father’s line to hold title, into obliterating every known rule of propriety. But the woman kissing the breath out of him had always possessed the ability to addle his mind and stir his blood. She claimed his heart and entrenched herself so deeply into his skin that even now, knowing that she had ridden away from him to meet another man, however briefly, he could not summon the will to resist her.

Perhaps it made him stupid, caving to her demands in that moment, her furious declaration of love for him still waged war in his brain with the certainty that her lover was even then still waiting for her at the inn. But even if that was her plan, to seduce Peeta and leave him too exhausted to follow, he found that he could not quite bring himself to care. Because she did come back.

She gasped when his arms came around her, cinching her impossibly tight against his chest as he finally returned her kisses. They stumbled across the room to the desk. She gasped again when he tossed her atop the desk and flipped up her skirts. Scattered papers fluttered about them, noisy distracting birds as he kissed her. He had neither the time nor the patience for niceties, but Katniss didn’t seem to either.

He moaned her name like a prayer as her hands worked to undress him enough. His coat discarded, his waistcoat half undone. He gripped her buttocks and pushed into her, drinking in the way her body arched and how she moaned as he slid home inside her. She was wet and warm all around him, and he barely had time to register her copious arousal before he began to move.

He thought he had made love to her in almost every state of passion he could conceive. Tender, grieving, hopeful, frenzied, and so many others. But as he moved between her thighs and she met his punishing thrusts with equal fervor, he knew this was different. This had the potential to destroy them. Or forge them into something even stronger than they had been before. He had feared himself to be a mad beast before, but now he knew himself to be one. He rutted between her thighs. He bit at her neck and her breasts while he fucked her. He only half heeded her cries and her pleas as the pain of her nails gouging into his skin became unbearable.

But even when she broke and screamed in his arms, he could not stop. His only saving grace came in the feel of her clenching in release all around him, in the fact that Katniss’s scream of release might be loud enough to reach the other man’s ears, even five miles away at the inn.

He joined her, desperately moaning her name and collapsing even as he was still caught in the throes of his release. The dishes from his uneaten luncheon clattered to the floor and shattered. He winced in regret at the mess, but couldn’t do a thing about it now. 

As they recovered their breath, Peeta lifted her in his arms. She curled around him and clung to him as he carried her, staggered the handful of steps to the chair before he sat heavily in it. Her fingers curled in his hair absently, again and again. He waited and waited some more. A servant knocked quietly and he sent them away. The room grew dark and finally, Katniss spoke.

She spoke of a proposal that was not a true proposal, a mere suggestion and a few questions that she had analysed over and over again. She spoke of letters that still came to Hazelle Hawthorne, even after her son had left home for his military duties. She explained that years of hard work had left Mrs. Hawthorne unable to write most days and so Katniss handled Gale’s wayward correspondence, pointing them towards his new direction. Until one day a perfumed letter arrived from a woman whose name Katniss did not recognize. Consumed with curiosity, instead of sending it on, she had read it, and known from it that Gale had taken lovers.

At first, she had been furious, then hurt, and then doubtful of Gale’s intentions. Perhaps he had no intention of marrying her at all, she had decided. She convinced herself that she had been mistaken in Gale's love for her and feeling foolish, resolved to act as though nothing had happened at all. She burned the letter and never spoke of it again, not to anyone.

Then, Haymitch Abernathy had paid a visit, claiming a distant family connection to Mr. Everdeen and offering to help his girls by sponsoring Katniss for a single season in society. She had agreed, not out of interest in finding a husband for herself, but rather to gain the knowledge she would need to guide Primrose through her own launch into polite society.

Then she had met Peeta and everything had changed. 

“We were so happy, and I so in love with you that I reconsidered my anger towards Gale. I tried to forgive him. How could I remain angry with him, when his actions helped lead me to you?”

At last she emerged from his shirt, her face red and tear stained, her lips still swollen from how harshly Peeta had kissed her. He winced in regret and attempted to apologise.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Katniss declared with an adamant shake of her head, her ungloved palms resting on his cheeks. “You do not. I should have explained to you better before I went, but I had to tell him in person, alone, or he would never have believed me.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“The truth,” she cried and shook her head when Peeta reached to comfort her. “No, let me finish. I told him that he’d been horribly mistaken. That you do not drain life from me, Peeta. You give me hope. We lost a babe and even though I had only carried our child for a handful of months, the loss devastated me. You know this, but Gale did not. I have not even told my own mother!”

Her voice broke and her confession shocked him. Mrs. Everdeen and Miss Primrose were due to arrive here at their home within the week and Katniss had not conveyed the news? Did her mother then believe she would find her daughter close to childbirth when she arrived?

“Katniss…”

“No, please.” Peeta nodded and waited as she regathered herself. “I have always most feared losing the ones I love, and when he wrote asking if I was truly married to another, I feared he might grow angry with me and end our friendship. It did not even occur to me that our friendship was already lost when I read that letter from his lover, even if I had managed to forgive him. I could not trust him to know my heart.”

Peeta slumped in the chair and in the quiet after her admissions, found a strange sort of peace. Katniss began to kiss him. Soft touches of her lips to his forehead, his nose, his ears.

“Is there anything else I need to explain?”

“Only one thing,” he murmured. “Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?”

She went still and he risked looking up at her. A strange smile had begun to spread over her face. “Yes.”

“Well then,” he said and the last of the tension seeped from his frame. “I suppose I should admit to you that I intended to let you go. If you truly loved him and wanted to be with him, I would not have followed you.”

“Why not?” she sounded annoyed and he nearly laughed.

“Because I could not have lived with myself if I thought I was the cause of your unhappiness.”

“How could you think even for a moment that you were?”

“Because the first time you smiled, the first time you were happy after we lost the babe, was when you received that letter from Gale, telling us that he was to visit.”

She scowled at him then, the scowl that he loved. Confusion and doubt at his words, then she shook her head. “Ridiculous. That was not the first time I had felt happy afterwards.”

“Then what was?” he asked and she caressed his face, a soft smile on her lips.

“We were in the study. You had been working and I had been pretending to read, but in reality I had been weeping behind the book. Eventually, I wore myself out and fell asleep. When I woke up, you were lifting me into your arms. You carried me upstairs, undressed me, and helped me into a hot bath. You suggested we might take luncheon outside in the garden, and although all I could manage was to lay there and watch the clouds while you sketched and played with my hair, I was content. I thought that if I could find those small moments of happiness and hope with you again, and hold onto them, then one day, we might find our way back to feeling joy again.”

“Ah, these are the sort of words I have longed to hear.” Peeta had at last believed her, and slid his hand over hers, holding it in place so that he could turn his head and gently kiss her palms. “Now that we have settled we are both idiots in love and neither of us is leaving, what shall we do now?”

“Hmmm. You could request dinner be served in our room and you could take me to bed.”

“Bed? At this early hour? Countess! Are you so determined to shock the servants then?”

At this, she laughed and kissed him. “My love, I believe we have already done that today.” Her eyes moved pointedly to the desk and Peeta felt himself blushing.

“Well… then perhaps it will not be so shocking after all.”

[foxcantswim]

FNAF Movie / / Vanessa x F!Reader [The Party Isn't Over]

(gif by me)

Vanessa always spends her birthday alone... You, Mike and all the animatronics decide to change that. Contents: Fluff, Established Relationship Warnings: Just everyone being stupid tbh, (Vanessa teasing you?) WC: 2,066 (requested by @calicomarvel - Sorry it took so long ;w;)

Taglist available for future Vanessa/Reader fics (including fluff, smut, angst)

Vanessa's frown had not left her face for the entire day, a heavy cloud had loomed over her head. She hadn't enjoyed her birthday in years, nobody ever bothered to check up on her. A simple 'happy birthday' from her dad wouldn't hurt... but he was busy. That was always the excuse.

She had hoped that you would perhaps call her and wish her a happy birthday, but her hopes had been severely crushed. She loved you dearly and was proud to call you her girlfriend, but a part of her heart ached at the thought of you not caring about her on this day.

She held her phone in her hand, staring mindlessly at it - silently hoping for anyone to message or call her. Silently hoping for you to message or call her.

Being alone everyday wasn't something new to her really, but ever since she met you on your first night shift at Freddy Fazbear's she couldn't quite stay away from you. She was happy to have you around.

A heavy sigh escaped her as she looked sadly at the phone, she promised herself she wouldn't cry... she hadn't cried about being alone for years now, but now that she had you? It seemed to break her heart that you had forgotten about her.

That's when the the phone in her hand buzzed, her eyes springing to life as she fumbled to quickly answer.

Clearing her throat, "H-Hi? Hello?" she hadn't even bothered to check the number that had been calling her.

"Hey, Nessy!" it was you. Relief started to wash over Vanessa, "Just checking in on you."

Biting her lip in anticipation, Vanessa sighed, "I'm okay... What are you up to?"

"Oh you know... just about to head to work. Nothing special really."

"Mhm..." Vanessa hummed. She still waited in anticipation.

"Will you be visiting tonight? Keep little old me company?"

"Ah," she paused, "I don't know, I might stay in tonight. Haven't got a shift to get to so..."

She heard you whine quite audibly, "Nessyyyy. Please come over and say hi? You would make me the happiest person on Earth. You wouldn't leave me all alone for six hours would you?" you continued to plead with her. She knew you would be putting on some sort of puppy dog eyes to get what you wanted right about now.

Vanessa couldn't help but feel the sadness start to creep back in. Had you really forgotten her birthday? She had mentioned it to you last week, so surely you hadn't...

"I'll think about it, Y/N," she felt slightly bitter.

"I expect you to be here at midnight. On the dot. Or else."

A slight smile appeared on the blonde's face, "Okay, Y/N."

"Love you, Nessy!" you exclaimed, giddy at getting your own way yet again.

"I love you, too," Vanessa's voice was quiet before you hung up the phone.

"That was so painful," you groaned, throwing the phone onto the table, "She sounded so upset..."

"I'm sure this will make up for it," Mike reassured, waving towards the venue in front of him.

Both you and Mike had been hard at work for the past few hours, setting everything up in the pizzeria. With the help of the animatronics, of course. Vanessa had opened up to you a couple months ago about how much she hated birthdays and she never celebrated them. She had mentioned how she'd always wanted to have a party at Freddy's when she was a kid... So you and Mike had been planning to make that a reality.

Bonnie and Foxy expertly carried some tables, creating an excellent exterior for the huge fort you were building.

There were extra party lights strung around the room, food and drink on a table near the stage, and some presents next to it.

You had made sure that some of the arcade games were working properly, and the ball pit was thoroughly cleaned. You intended on doing anything and everything to make Vanessa's birthday special. Vanessa had expressed how she hated the ball pit but you were going to drag her in there whether she liked it or not.

Surprisingly, Chica and Freddy had come out of the kitchen with a cake balancing in the palm of Freddy's hand.

Well, it was sort of a cake? It had icing and frosting and sponge but... They were kind of all just mushed together into a big pile. It's the thought that counts.

"We have an hour to make sure everything is perfect," you told Mike.

Mike patted you on the shoulder, "It can't get much better than this."

You hurried the animatronics onto their stages and made sure they were in position, ready to perform as soon as Vanessa walked in. The animatronics were more than happy to help out, they had always loved Vanessa's company.

The lights were all off, and the music was ready to play.

You wanted everything to be perfect. Mike constantly reassured you that it was more than enough and Vanessa would love it.

You continued to nervously look at the clock as the minutes ticked on, Vanessa would be here any moment now. You hated lying to her and not calling her at all for her birthday, but you wanted this to be a huge surprise for her. Hopefully she would see that you truly cared about her, as did Mike and the animatronics.

Mike had been watching the cameras, looking out for Vanessa's car. He was anxious about how she would react, but nowhere near as anxious as you were. He knew that you wanted to impress her, and he was with you every step of the way.

That was when she finally arrived, her car pulling into the nearly empty parking lot.

Mike rushed out of the office and snapped his fingers, giving the signal.

The clock currently read 11:57, so technically it was still Vanessa's birthday. You were thankful that she was here a little earlier so you could actually tell her on the day.

The lights were promptly turned off, the animatronics in their places, and you and Mike were hiding by one of the tables placed by the 'Showtime' button. The button was primed to turn on all the lights and the music and release balloons from the ceiling.

You both looked at eachother as you heard Vanessa banging at the door, and using the buzzer. But of course neither of you got up to open it.

The silence in the room was deafening, you swear you heard Vanessa groan in annoyance as she jingled her keys.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the blonde opened the door. She called your name as she walked in, treading carefully in the dark.

As she made her way into the main room, Mike nodded at you with a smile. You slammed your hand onto the button and lights flicked on.

"Surprise!" you and Mike both jumped out from behind the table. The balloons fell from the ceiling and the animatronics started to put on a show, the music was loud but not too loud.

Vanessa looked like a deer that had been caught in the headlights, she looked at you and Mike with a mix of shock and confusion.

The clock read 11:59. You quickly ran over to Vanessa.

"Happy Birthday, Vanessa!" you pulled her into a hug, planting a soft kiss against her lips.

"Y-Y/N?" she stuttered, still in shock at what was even happening.

"Happy Birthday, Ness," Mike smiled as he walked over.

You pulled away from the hug, "God, I am so sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Nessy. I knew I would end up opening my mouth up about this surprise if I did."

Vanessa looked around the room at the bright lights and decorations, the animatronics all seemed to be looking towards her as they performed.

She felt tears spring into her eyes, "Y/N..." she started.

"Please don't tell me I did something wrong!" you quickly started to worry upon seeing her expression.

"No!" she exclaimed quickly, "No, not all. Just... you really did all this for me?"

You laughed in relief, "With the help of the animatronics of course."

Mike cleared his throat.

"And Mike too, I guess," you winked at him.

"I thought you forgot or..."

You knew that people in the past, including her own family, had forgotten Vanessa's birthday or just not bothered to contact her.

"Well... I didn't. Neither did Mike," you reassured her, you reached to grab her hand, "I know you haven't had the best luck with birthdays in the past, but I want to make this the best one you've ever had. I know how much you always wanted a party here at Freddy's when you were a kid, so we are making that a reality."

You dragged Vanessa over to the tables to show her the food and drink, and all the presents you and Mike had gathered for her to take home after the night was done.

Freddy and Chica had momentarily hopped off stage to proudly show off their 'cake'. Vanessa couldn't help but smile at the two.

"Bonnie and Foxy helped with the decorations. And these two made the most delicious looking cake ever," you smiled at them.

"Thank you so much," the blonde said to the two 'chefs'. And then looked over and Foxy who had casually jumped up on the main stage with Bonnie, "And thank you two!" she called over to them.

Mike had dragged both you and Vanessa over to the arcade games, declaring that he would be getting the high score on each game.

Long story short, he sucked at each and every one of them. Even Freddy had beat him at a game of skee-ball. He had quickly challenged the bear to other games.

You pecked Vanessa on the cheek before dragging over to the dreaded ball pit.

Vanessa rolled her eyes, her smile still present however, "Seriously, Y/N?"

You laughed and dragged her in without warning, "I did not spend three hours cleaning this thing out for nothing."

Vanessa had ended up standing in front of you, awkwardly pushing the balls out of the way in order to wrap you in a tight hug.

"You didn't need to do any of this, Y/N."

"I did. You deserve to know that you're loved, Nessy. I was this close to spilling the whole thing when I rang you earlier," a nervous laugh escaped you as the blonde rubbed a thumb across your cheek, "I just wanted to give you the best birthday ever... Even if it technically is the day after right now."

She surprised you by bringing you into a kiss, her arms wrapping around your waist to bring you in closer (if that was even possible).

You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks as she deepened the kiss.

"Get a room!" you heard Mike call over, causing the two of you to pull away.

Vanessa flipped him off as he chuckled.

She looked back at you, her gaze was soft, "Thank you, Y/N. Nobody has ever done something like this for me before. It means a lot."

"No worries, Nessy. I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N," she kissed your lips, almost featherlight. A smirk then plastered across her face as she leaned in close to your ear, "It might be my birthday... but I think you are the one who deserves a reward when we get back to my place."

You opened your mouth to say something, but all that escaped was a whimper as the blonde grazed her teeth along your neck teasingly. She pulled away from you and hopped out of the ball pit, leaving a flushed you alone with a stunned look on your face. She smirked at you as she walked away with a wink.

You cleared your throat as you exited the ball pit.

"Like I said. Get a room," Mike grimaced at you, his mind surely tainted after hearing what Vanessa had just said.

You flipped him off.

Taglist: @marvelwomen-simp ; @emiliaisdead

[vagabond-umlaut]

beckoning you, slowly, subtly

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Absence makes the heart yearn stronger.

Or: Gojo grapples with himself in the wake of you preparing to leave Tokyo Jujutsu High– in the wake of you preparing to leave him.

▸ Gojo x Fem!Reader; Former Teacher x Former Student; Reader has graduated from high school and is moving overseas for college; Gojo is 24-ish while Reader is 18; He's such a sad pathetic boi here; You think Reader is better? She's worse; Angst and Fluff; Use of humor as a coping mechanism [until it fails]; Very soft character study

▸ I wrote this as a prequel set minimum 10 years before the fic 'ensnared' -> You need not read that to read this, though. This is a standalone fic, through and through! 😊

Gojo feels nothing towards you.

No, he doesn't. He really, truly bears no feelings, whatsoever their nature might be, for you.

But... if it indeed is so... then why the hell are his knuckles so hesitant to strike the wood of your door, eh?

Gojo stays in this position for a beat or two more, before dropping his fist back to his side. Exhaling a mute yet deep sigh as his gaze travels over the tiny flowers and trees painted on the door. Next moves to the shoe rack beside, filled with neat rows of sneakers and flats. And finally reaches the cheery yellow paper taped to the door, your name written on it in smooth letters–

Before he can even realise it, the sorcerer finds his fingers over it, so wary yet wanting as they traverse the lines and the loops of the letters, eliciting a very soft murmur of the same from within, the latter darting past a dry throat and a heavy tongue...

"Sensei!"

The door suddenly springs open. Of course, with no one but you behind it.

Were here anyone else except him, Gojo is certain, they would have jumped feet in the air in response. Good thing, he isn't just some 'anyone else'. The sorcerer quickly withdraws his outstretched hand to stuff it into his pocket. And grins, the way he always does when caught in contemplation.

Big. Bright. Happy. So much so that it will either puzzle, or better yet, piss the other person off, eventually making them leave him to his devices...

"Heyyy," he drawls, decidedly making a show of his infamous breezy image— jarringly contrasting the manner his Six Eyes study your once decorated–now empty room, "Packing and everything's done, wow. Thought I might visit you one last time before you leave for..." Australia, but he chooses not to say it. Breezy image, remember?

Borrowing a beat to think– to make you think he's thinking, that is– the man resumes with a noisy chuckle, "Before you leave for wherever you're headed. When's your flight, by the way? Tonight or tomorrow morning?"

Whatever reply he might have been expecting from you, two shiny eyes and one o-shaped mouth certainly weren't on the list... You're pretty swift to erase them, however. Wiping your sweater paws over your face, you mimic his posture and grin back.

Cheeky, obviously, but much too strained than the ones you've given him so far... Your amused voice intrudes on his quiet scrutiny of you. "Why, Sensei? Missing me from this moment itself, eh?"

"Nah," he shoots back with a dismissive wave of his hand. Noting then ignoring the stinging twinge in the middle of his chest— no matter the fractional fall in your features; no matter anything, everything. "I'm literally waiting for when you'll walk out the school's torii gates— even more for when your plane will take off the tarmac and leave Japan! I was stuck teaching you for the better part of the past four years. What makes you think I'll miss you, heh. I'll be incredibly relieved, if anything."

"Ah," you say, following a moment's pause, "I see."

Quite an unenthusiastic reaction, if he's being honest; Gojo doesn't mind it, though. Not in the slightest.

Not even when he watches you regard him, oddly intense and pensive for a while, before you return to clearing your desk. So neat and tidy and dead with no books nor pens nor stray sketches strewn over its surface. The same way the rest of the room now seems: dreadfully dreary and dull, now that you– you with your bubbly self, shining in this damned dark school, jujutsu world– is moving away–

Oh.

Oh no.

You're moving away.

Which is... okay. Yeah, it's okay. But, but, but– "When will you come back?" The question escapes the confines of his mind into the stillness of your room, soon joined by another– one he bites his tongue and draws blood for, the second it leaves his mouth.

The tiny quaver in the words betraying the steady front he has put on very well– Until now. Until you— Too bad [or maybe, good] you've always read him rather well– so much so that you whirl round the instant the sentence flies into the foot in between, your crumpled features meeting his crumbling mask.

"You will come back, right?"

"I–" you start, eyes brimming with the same tears you wiped away so insistently then; he never hears you finish your answer, however.

Two tiny hands fling themselves round his neck, and before he can realise it, the sorcerer finds himself bent at the waist, nose nudging your temple while your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck, the collar of his jacket growing progressively wet with every passing second.

The man stops himself from returning your embrace— You were his student. He was your mentor. Your door is open. His Six Eyes sense Shoko and Utahime coming this way. He isn't meant for such empty shows of sentiment. He isn't sure if your gesture is as unfeeling as he hopes it is—

Screwing his eyes shut, he sighs. Yet offers no resistance when he feels your fingers unclasp from his shoulders then move to his hands, lifting them to keep them lightly on the small of your back.

Oh, well, whatever.

Gojo is still certain he feels nothing towards you.

Except, maybe, this steely resolve of his, engraving itself a cliff-like niche in his mind: To protect. To cherish this sweet feeling of you both in each other's grasp.

▸ Divider by @hitobaby. Header from Pinterest. I don't own the characters used here.

▸ masterlist

[aranarumei]

kiri analyzes: ch 27 of hirano to kagiura

hi. that’s me. kiri I mean. firstly I realize I’ve arrives about a month late to the party. I’m sure much of what I’m going to say about ch 27 has already been discussed, but I still wanted to go through each chapter and give my thoughts on them before I go out and see what everyone else has been saying! I’m keeping this post under the cut for length, not spoilers lol

okay! starting off from the color page. I adore this caption: “towards an as-yet-unmet spring.” hirano’s gaze, trained not just at kagi’s lips, but his brilliant smile (“…man, that sun is dazzling today…” – ch 12, hirano to kagiura), and the pink flush to his face—altogether it captures the image of love in bloom. that burgeoning newness is right in line with the spring season, and an “as-yet-unmet spring” suggests that while we’re not quite there yet (at the point of a realization of love), it is something that will be happening.

(side note: I will be using the mangadex scanlations as my main reference point here, but I have heard that it might be good to look at some alternate translations regarding ch 28 and 29, so I’ll be doing so when I get there)

now to discuss page one. hanzawa and ichinose are like catnip so me so I have a lot of words about this moment. to start, I think it’s so fascinating that both hanzawa & ichinose ascribe a sense of “home” to the dorm (and thus feel homesickness), even though, as hirano points out, the dorm isn’t actually their home. to me this illuminates a lot about hanzawa and ichinose’s characters, particularly the reasons as to why they were dorm heads.

both hanzawa and ichinose are presumably here for studying reasons—ichinose will get caught up in video games if he goes home (ch 23b, hirano to kagiura), and hanzawa’s household is too busy and chaotic to study at (ch 33.7, sasaki to miyano)—but the dorm is more than just a study space to them. after all, being dorm head requires an extra level of connection to the dorm… a connection that I would argue, for them, stems from a level of disconnection with their actual homes.

at home, hanzawa’s “maa-kun,” and his older brother masaomi will start asking him questions about his love life, and I imagine it’s often enough since he does it in public, and asks if miyano’s his boyfriend without skipping a beat (ch 28, sasaki to miyano). in this same chapter, hanzawa does not… react well, to romance. he’s still grappling with the lasting memory of his mother’s relief when he said he was straight. at home, hanzawa’s not in control. I think he’s internalized the idea that he’s not allowed to display any kind of queerness, and while that may still be true to an extent within the confines of the dorm, the situation is different. here, he’s the dorm head, he’s the captain of the ping pong team, president of the disciplinary club… his hair is dyed black, like a “good student.” he can control, to a larger extent, the way he’s perceived, and has more freedom of action.

as ogasawara suggests in the second anime guidebook, “ah, but… you’ve been here for three years, so it’s not quite home, but… there’s still an attachment?” and he’s right! I don’t think hanzawa dreads his home, but I think that he was able to build a new feeling of stability during his time at school and in the dorm, and having that is really precious to him. there’s reason he then asks ogasawara to attend his university, and then starts complaining about how hirano moved out of the dorm as soon as he was able.

(side note: that’s a really fun look into the future, isn’t it? that the hirano who’s so deeply missing kagiura in this chapter moved out as soon as it was possible to do so. perhaps that’s just another aspect of his ruthless kind of bluntness, but I think the fact that it happened means that he and kagiura are at a stable place. also, this scene ends with him deciding to drop by the dorm, so clearly there’s someone he wants to see…)

we don’t know much about ichinose’s home life, but I’d pin him as a bit introverted. I might be making this conclusion based off the fact that he’s wearing glasses in a flashback we see of him. but also like… he plays video games. he gets bad stomach cramps and some of them are anxiety-induced. he gets really shy around the dorm manager, who he does have a crush on, but also I think he’s just that type of person. speaking of the dorm manager, he and ichinose are chatting even before hirano or hanzawa show up, so I’d suspect a part of his homesickness is missing the dorm manager, too. there’s a fun tension to this situation… he’s graduating, and his crush probably feels pretty useless, but he nonetheless wants to chase that pleasure. it’s not an outward or direct expression of queerness, but I like to imagine that ichinose, too, feels more in control when he’s in the dorm, feels more like he can be a little truer to himself.

that distance from your closest judgements—the ones coming from you family—is something I like to think that ichinose and hanzawa cherish.

speaking of ichinose and hanzawa, I love this chapter cover. the angle reminds me of a security camera? hirano’s stares at it with a blank kind of surprise, but hanzawa and ichinose both look like they’re making deliberate eye contact. I think the difference between them is representative to how those three interact with the idea of public perception and persona… that being, hirano doesn’t do it at all, while hanzawa and ichinose are hyper aware of it, even though their approaches and responses differ.

(side note: I’m aware that a lot of what I say regarding ichinose is speculation. I just have a lot of headcanons about him. as a shameless self plug I will say that that you should read violeta fantasy)

next we have ichinose & hirano discussing kagiura, and not only does hirano look glum when talking about how he and kagiura rarely get to see each other, he wears the fondest smile I’ve ever seen when he calls kagiura “one of a kind.” I love how bright that specific page looks—it’s like when hirano’s around kagiura, he, too, is dazzling. I also really love the choice of words here, those being “one of a kind.” it might be a translation liberty, but I think it just emphasizes the way that kagiura is a unique existence to hirano. even if he’s not special in the romantic sense, he is so obviously special to hirano. I love that hirano calls him “one of a kind” as he’s specifically recalling the way kagiura in ch 26 said that being with him, like this, is his favorite part of the day. here, reflecting on that moment, hirano gets to appreciate and love the way that kagiura loves him, and it just leaves him soft and pleased. it’s nice to see.

the next scene I want to discuss is the section where kagiura catches hirano & hanzawa Being Friends. I am such a fan of this because I love seeing hirano and hanzawa’s friendship. on hanzawa’s character profile for the knight of sub-characters popularity poll, it’s mentioned that he’s often seen with hirano, and then in the snapshot of his daily life that we got for his 2024 birthday, hirano’s again mentioned as his friend… they go to the same university! hirano asked him for advice on how to approach kagi-kun! sure, part of that was because hanzawa was the dorm head, but a lot of it was because they’re just friends. it’s fascinating to see how badly kagiura reacts to this, and the way he bitterly thinks, hirano-san only lets me touch him for 10 seconds a day…

kagi. I love you. but you made that rule up. you are also forgetting that hirano keeps claiming he’s got his own 10 seconds, too. this touch constraint is so fascinating because kagiura and hirano would’ve casually touched all the time, before this. but ever since having a proper realization of his Feelings, kagiura’s essentially… deprived himself of touch, by choice? because as they stand, even if hirano’s Fine with it, because he won’t register it as romantic, kagiura can’t touch him with romantic intention and have him not know. as he thinks right after his bitter thought, it’s not even the same kind of touching. it would cross some kind of line that he’s made up. I love this kid’s issues. he’s really so good… but I think he worries a lot about not being good, especially towards the guy he loves so much.

(side note: in this section we also flash back to the hanzawa homophobia allegations, which. I’d love to write up a post abt this whole deal just bc 1) we’re all aware that hanzawa’s not Actually Homophobic, yes? and 2) I find it so fun to introspect and speculate about his relationship to queerness, and 3) can we talk about how strange yashiro is? like. forget hanzawa shutting down that play-acted kabedon in ch 24. what kind of person just bluntly says, “everyone knows he can’t stand when two guys do that kind of stuff together” to a guy who clearly… does not know that? hanzawa can’t be looking that actively homophobic, if kagiura’s never noticed it before. making that statement says just as much about yashiro, then, as it does about hanzawa.)

now of course I have to talk the moment where kagiura realizes that hirano misses them hanging out. I’ll take this moment to note that hirano missing him, and hirano wanting to study with him, are all great continuing repudiations of the suggestion that ichinose gave early on: that he might focus better, without kagiura as his roommate. that maybe they’d do best, working hard individually. I think this was part of what separated them in the adult au, but time and time again, hirano to kagiura shows that they make each other better, stronger people. we kind of knew all of this, though. why, then, does hirano go 0 to 100 red, the moment that kagiura realizes this fact?

well. this… actually isn’t the first time, isn’t it? back in ch 22, hirano’s missing kagiura, and recalls what miyano was rambling about in his BL: “he thinks about how much he wants to see the person he’s in love with, and with the best timing ever, he finds himself embraced, and his heart starts pounding…”

then, too, his face turns totally red. and, crucially: his heart starts to race.

heart racing, in this context, is a signifier of love. hirano had pointed out that you can just have your heart race when you’re surprised, and being hugged could do that naturally, but now his heart has started jackrabbiting when there’s no one there to touch him. how to make sense of this feeling?

(he’d also conveniently tuned out the part where miyano said that in some cases there wasn’t any heart racing because the couple was already like family. I think family is a really key word in how exactly kagiura loves hirano. it really is a desire not just for love, but cohabitation.)

miyano says some other stuff in his BL spiel, too. I’d like to point to his earlier impassioned cry of, “you should just try getting embraced by a tall puppy-dog seme, have your heart start racing, and realize ‘wow…is this love?!’!!!”

sounds a little similar to… oh, what’s happening right now in ch 27, doesn’t it?

sasaki to miyano plays a lot with BL tropes, particularly in the ways that its fiction interacts with the reality of miyano’s life. hirano to kagiura does this to a lesser extent, but the theme is still clearly present—in ch 13, miyano tells hirano that he “can’t recognize an iota of BL development potential,” and hirano thinks for a moment that he’s talking about him and kagi-kun before he decides it had nothing to do with their situation.

so. what we’re going to see in ch 28, I suspect, is not going to be a sudden ‘wow…is this love?!’ moment. I’d love to say I’ve made this prediction just from sheer analysis alone, and while I think harusono sensei’s general trend of playing with BL tropes and expectations makes this a pretty easy prediction, I also just… have an inkling or two about what ch 28 is about. no clue about ch 29, but I know that neither of them are going to end with hirano being “wow, I’m totally in love with kagi,” because if it did, I think my tumblr dashboard would’ve exploded.

that’s all from me on ch 27! excited to discuss whatever’s coming up…