#or maybe. i will simply be. More preoccupied........ only time will tell

[orcelito]

Sorry to my readers that I haven't been writing like at all this week. Somehow I have become the type of person that has a social life

[brokenmenswhore]

Hi, first of all I agree with the other ask, you're definitely my favourite writer on here, I love how you write Aegon! Also your smuts are SO hot but also so emotional idk it's all perfect 😭 I'd love to request a fic where Aegon and fem!reader (idk maybe some Stark girl living in the Red Keep for some reason?) are so obviously in love but they both express it with teasing and making fun of each other and they're kind of best friends who love going around and creating chaos (Alicent gets SO annoyed). One night they get pretty drunk and they finally understand they both want each other so badly. Also can we please have a happy ending, they're gonna stay together forever and stuff plz I'm done watching this man suffer he deserves some relief 😭 thank youuu ily 🫶🏻🥹

thank you so fuckin much 🥺 i’ll give you two happy endings for aegon if you know what i’m saying wink wink

trouble | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader

warnings: drunk sex, smut (MDNI 18+), rain sex is that a warning

────── ☾ ──────

Though you missed Winterfell, the Red Keep began to feel more and more like home the longer you resided there.

The greatest reason, perhaps, was Aegon. You two were fast friends, and matched each other’s constant desire to stir trouble. The more you spent time with him, the harder and harder you fell. You could not deny that you were in love with him if you tried, but luckily, no one ever questioned it.

Instead of telling Aegon, you simply teased him every chance you got.

“Open up, you drunken whore,” you called, banging on his chamber doors.

He swung the door open, sticking his lower lip out to pout at you. “I’m not drunk yet.”

You laughed. “The only fault you find with my insult is that you are not yet inebriated enough to properly embody it?”

Aegon smiled, “precisely.”

“I cannot stand you,” you said, walking past him and entering his chambers, plopping down on his bed.

“No, please, make yourself comfortable,” Aegon jested.

“I am only shocked to find your bed empty,” you reciprocated. It was a joke, but you still felt a pang in your heart at the reminder that Aegon had a constant cycle of whores in his bed. You were pleased to find it empty tonight, though.

Aegon leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “You are aware that I am your future king, and in fact not a whore, correct?”

“I beg to differ,” you responded, “you are but the greatest whore I know.”

“You must be having some shit sex then.”

You giggled at his retort. This was how you liked it: fun, light, and full of understanding of one another.

“Are you not tired?” Aegon asked.

You adjusted the pillows beneath your head, propping them up higher as you leaned back, seated on the mattress, “it is much too early to be tired.”

“I suppose that is true.”

“Are you aware that your mother has invited House Baratheon for supper?” you asked.

“Of course I am.”

You could tell by the way he answered that he had no idea.

“She did not inform you?” you questioned.

“She does not like me to be present at such things,” Aegon explained, adjusting his clothing, “she says I am simply too much. I believe she tells our guests that I am too preoccupied with duties that befall an heir.”

You laughed, intentionally overdoing it. “As if anyone would believe such a thing.”

Aegon opened his mouth in offense, but meant it as playful. “How dare you speak to your future king like that,” he said, laying down on the bed next to you.

“If you are my future king, you shall never see me on my knees,” you responded.

“Shame,” Aegon replied.

Your cheeks reddened from just the singular word. Did he mean a shame he would never see you on your knees?

“Did you come here simply to bully me?” Aegon asked, propping his head up on one of his hands as he laid on his side and faced you.

“Of course, why else?”

Aegon sighed. “I’m bored.”

You turned to look at him. “I am insulted that you are bored in my presence. I’m the most fun of anyone around here.”

“So entertain me then, Stark,” he said, playfully pushing your shoulder, “if you’re so fun.”

“If it were up to me, we would just crash your mother’s dinner,” you said.

Aegon’s eyes widened at the idea. “I’m in.”

You smiled. “Truly?”

Aegon nodded his head yes. “I’m already a disappointment,” he shrugged, “I may as well fill my cup while I’m at it.”

You laughed and jumped up off the bed, watching as Aegon fixed up his hair before you two left the bedroom.

You laughed and snickered quietly as you crept down the lavish staircase to the grand dining hall, slowly peeking into the room where Alicent was hosting her guests.

“She allows Aemond to be present, but not you?” you whispered, loud enough Aegon could still hear you.

“Why are you whispering? I want that wine,” Aegon said, marching into the dining hall and pulling you in with him.

“Oh, mother, you shouldn’t have!” Aegon said, strutting over to the wine in front of his mother and downing the entire cup in one gulp, “all of this for me?”

Alicent sighed. “Forgive my son, Lord Baratheon, he is rather drunk-“

Aegon continued to work the room as he signaled you to grab the wine bottle next to Aemond. Trying to do anything in close proximity to Aemond was a challenge; he would grab your hand and stop you in an instant if you weren’t careful. He already knew you were there, so Aegon had to truly distract him.

“I am not drunk,” Aegon protested, “but simply excited to greet our esteemed guests!”

“Aegon, this is highly inappropriate-“

“Lord Baratheon, a pleasure!” Aegon said, swiftly taking the man’s face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. The room stilled for a moment, shock and awe on everyone’s face.

You moved behind Aemond’s chair and snuck your arm out next to the armrest, gripping the top of the bottle and pulling back as Aemond moved to stand and stop his brother.

“Aegon!” Alicent bellowed as her son pulled away, giving a few gentle taps to the side of Lord Baratheon’s face before he caught your eye.

You held up the bottle, and Aegon swiped two glasses before you both ran out of the room.

“AEGON!” Alicent called, but you were both running as fast as you could, laughing as the wind caught your hair.

You ran up a staircase, Aegon following suit as you reached the roof of the tower. The night was beautiful, and you could see Sunfyre taking a nighttime fly in the warm night’s air.

You leaned your arms against the stone, overlooking the water as you watched Sunfyre and rested long enough to catch your breath. Aegon appeared next to you and did the same.

“You able to get this thing open?” you asked, passing him the wine.

Aegon took the glass bottle in his hands, swinging the top fourth into the stone. Glass shattered and wine spilled as Aegon rushed to right the bottle and keep most of the wine inside.

“Aegon!” you laughed, kicking the glass shards away from either of you.

Aegon poured the wine into the two cups he stole, handing you one as you sank down to sit on the stone flooring beneath you. You leaned back, relaxing as you turned to Aegon, who had already finished his entire cup.

“Gotta keep up, Stark,” he teased, and you downed your entire cup with one giant sip.

“You’re trouble,” you told him, holding out your cup for a refill.

“You like it,” he said, still jesting and teasing you as he filled up your cup, but his words ignited something within you.

You and Aegon continued to drink until the wine was completely gone and Sunfyre had long been asleep.

You were still coherent, but you were both undoubtedly pretty drunk.

“I cannot believe you actually kissed him!” you laughed, Aegon shrugging his shoulders and pretending to bow.

The mood calmed down for a moment, and you could feel your brain become hazy.

“You got me drunk,” you pouted.

Aegon placed a hand to his chest in offense. “I did no such thing.”

“I wouldn’t have drank this all if you weren’t also drinking it all,” you explained.

“So you only do what I do?” Aegon responded.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

Your eyes immediately widened, you were completely shocked by your own words. You went to stand and leave from the sheer embarrassment taking over you, but you didn’t have the energy to run away right now. Instead, you tried to dig yourself out of the hole.

“Woah, I’m really drunk, what did I just say? Must have been something stupid. Probably another joke.”

“You don’t seem that drunk to me,” Aegon contested.

“No, no, I am drunk. I am so ridiculously drunk that I don’t even remember how I started this sentence. I am so-“

Aegon could see right through you, and knew you were faking it to save face.

He cut you off by pressing a finger to your lips, shushing you. “And what do you wish for me to want from you?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “I think you’re more drunk than me, Aeg, because that made no sense.”

“If you’ll do whatever I want-“ Aegon’s voice trailed off as he reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. His hand lingered, slowly resting against your cheek as he caressed your face.

“Aegon?”

He snapped out of his daze as his eyes drifted from his hand touching you to meet your eyes. “Yes?”

You felt the liquid courage coursing through your veins. “What is it you wish for me to do?”

Aegon’s hand moved from your face down your body, until it reached the hem of your dress. He looked to you for consent, and you nodded, giving him the go ahead.

He pushed your dress up your legs until it rested entirely bunched up around your waistline, exposing your small clothes to him.

There was already a wet patch on the fabric. You had spent the entire evening with him, so it was only to be expected, but apparently not by Aegon.

“You’re really wet,” he said, in genuine shock.

You blushed and tried to close your legs. “I mean, yeah.”

Aegon slowly pushed your legs open again. “From what?”

He was not asking as foreplay, he was asking because he was curious and too drunk to understand why someone would want him.

You placed your head in your hands, but forced out the words, “well, I spent all of tonight with you, Aegon, this usually happens.”

You did not expect to say all that, but the wine in your veins was making you more bold than you had ever been with him.

Aegon nearly choked on air when you spoke. He ran a finger over the wetness, causing you to shudder from the sudden contact. “This is all for me?”

His lustful voice was now seeping through.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

Aegon ran his finger along the waistband of your small clothes, gently tugging them down and off of your legs to completely expose your cunt to him. You’d never felt so vulnerable.

“Aegon?”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

Aegon moved closer to you, but stopped himself. “You’re really drunk.”

You scoffed, “I’m not that drunk.”

“But-“

“Aegon, I’ve wanted you forever, and I’m not that drunk.”

Aegon blushed, which was something you’d never seen him do before. “You have?”

You closed your legs and leaned forward, sitting on your knees as you took his hands in your own. You sighed and looked into his eyes. “You are an idiot.”

Aegon pouted at you again, intentionally overdoing it. “Mean.”

“You love me,” you responded in a tease.

“I know,” he replied.

Your breath caught in your throat. The intensity and emotional gravity of the situation was slightly sobering both of you up. You gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment before Aegon pulled you into a desperate kiss, a few soft raindrops hitting the tops of your heads as your lips moved in sync.

“Can you stand?” you asked, pulling away.

Aegon rose from the floor, standing in front of you as you shifted closer and closer to him on your knees, raindrops still hitting both of you.

You gently tugged down his breeches, exposing his semi-hard cock. You took the length in your hand, gently kissing the tip before taking him in your mouth.

He started to show himself to you, growing as you began to gently suck him, moving your hand in sync with your mouth on his base. He threw his head back in pleasure as a hand held the back of your head. He did not apply any pressure, but simply rested his hand there for the comfort of knowing you would stay.

“Wait,” he snapped himself out of his lustful haze for a moment, “but I was gonna-“

You pulled off of his cock with an pop. “Would you just let me take care of you?”

No one had ever asked him such a question, and you could feel him twitch in your hand. You were gently, excruciatingly slowly stroking him, gazing up at him as he watched you.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” Aegon said.

“Like what?” you blinked, taunting him.

“Fuck,” he cursed again as he watched you taste him again, moving your head back and forth.

Aegon had never been treated so kindly before. Oftentimes the women he bed were rough upon request, or gave him nothing, only acting as a vessel for him to outlet his frustrations.

Despite never having touched one another, you and Aegon knew each other better than any two people had before, and this was no exception.

You began to swirl your tongue around his tip, collecting the pre-cum found there and spreading it around the rest of his cock as you sucked.

He had been in love with you for so long, and had pictured this in his dreams, or in his chambers with a fist around his cock, enough times that the sight of you on your knees for him was enough to make him come much faster than he usually did.

“I’m-“

You began to move your hand even faster, causing him to gasp and groan. You were determined to pleasure him first. You so desperately wanted to see how pretty he looked when he came down your throat.

You moaned around his cock, the gentle vibrations sending a shiver up his spine. You felt his muscles twitch in warning before he came, shooting his seed down your throat with a moan of your name.

He took a moment to recover, looking down at you as he wiped the rain off of his face.

“I was going to take care of you,” he said, his voice still a little shaky.

You spread your knees apart, pushing up your dress to expose yourself to him once again. The rain began to pick up, and you were blinking past the droplets. You held your dress against your waist as you stood, pressing your body against his.

Aegon swiped two arms behind your legs, forcing you to jump into his arms as he held you, your legs wrapped around his waist. He sat you down on the ledge, and you gripped his shoulders tightly, still a little too drunk to trust that you could keep yourself from falling to your death.

Aegon immediately lined his cock up to your entrance, but you spoke before he could enter you.

“Aegon, I’m going to fall and die. It’s slippery from the rain and I’m still a little drunk.”

Aegon groaned and pulled you down. “You have to flip then.”

“What?” You didn’t understand what he meant by “flip.”

Aegon sighed, “turn around, idiot.”

Aegon swung your body around and pressed on your upper back, bending you over as you rested your palms against the stone. You felt much safer in this position, even though you could see out below the tower roof.

“You could have just led with ‘turn around,’ you know.”

“I didn’t think that ‘flip’ held such a complex meaning,” Aegon said.

“You can never just say the simple version-“

“Oh shut up,” he said, pushing his entire length into you with one thrust, causing you to choke on your words and gasp at the feeling.

You were wet enough to lubricate his cock, but the rain was also to thank, your bodies even more drenched as the rain became heavy. You could barely hear the light whines Aegon was letting out as he began to fuck you.

He pulled his entire length out of you before slamming it back in, causing your body to jolt slightly forward. Aegon laughed at your reaction.

“Mean,” you said.

Aegon wrapped his hand around your hair, tugging your head backward. “Now now, that’s not very nice.”

Aegon set a steady pace inside of you, watching your body and face reacts to each and every snap of his hips.

“Fuck,” you moaned. Whimpers were free falling from your lips; you were unable to control yourself.

“You sound so pretty when you moan,” Aegon complimented, picking up the pace and nearly slamming his cock into you with every thrust.

“Wow,” you strangled, “not an insult this time?”

Aegon wrapped an arm around your chest and pulled you upward until your back connected with his torso. He braced himself against your hips, fucking into you and hitting an even sweeter spot within you due to the new angle.

“You want an insult?” Aegon whispered directly into your ear, “how about this? Just look at yourself, soaking wet and moaning from my cock in you. You’re a filthy fucking whore. My whore.”

You could tell from his eloquence that Aegon was sober. You could also tell how badly he needed you- it was almost as badly as you needed him. He didn’t have time to jest anymore, he needed your body and your mind to be consumed by the pleasure he was giving you.

“‘M- I am,” you moaned out, your head leaning backward and resting on his shoulder as he pistoned in and out of you.

“I want you to come for me,” he commanded.

You could feel raindrops hit your chest and run down your body every second, your dress completely soaked through and your hair wet enough that you could wring it out if you wanted to.

The feeling of Aegon inside of you was so much sweeter than you imagined, and his demands had you crying out his name as you reached your climax.

Aegon continued to hold you against him, keeping his cock inside of you as you came down from your high, your legs twitching from the intensity of it all as you tried to ensure that you could still stand.

“Aegon?” you caught his attention after a few minutes, wiping the rain away from your eyes, “you can’t stay in me forever.”

“Says who?” He was back.

“Aegon,” you repeated, and he pulled out of you, pushing your dress down, but it didn’t matter. The material was completely soaked through.

Aegon reached down and pulled his breeches back up, covering himself the best he could with the soaking wet fabric that no longer wanted to sit on his hips correctly.

Aegon stood and stared at you.

“Gods, Aegon, admire me inside, I’m fucking soaked,” you laughed, pulling him down the staircase and to your chambers.

You pushed the door open and were relieved to see that the handmaidens had already been in your room, and would likely not be back until morning. You pulled Aegon in, softly closing the door behind you as you began to undress.

Aegon did the same, ridding himself of all his soiled clothes.

“What now?” Aegon asked.

You wrung out as much water from your hair as you could before you climbed into your bed.

Aegon scoffed. “You’re insane, I’m wet.”

“As am I,” you spoke, matter-of-factly.

Aegon shrugged and joined you, both of you naked under the warm sheets. Aegon shivered at the sensation, feeling his muscles relax as he lay flat on his back.

You began to run a finger across his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles absentmindedly.

You took a deep breath, eyes focused on your movements on his body. “I do not wish to forget this in the morrow.”

Aegon turned his head, tiredness in his eyes as he looked at you. “Neither do I. I meant what I said. I do love you.”

You smiled. “As I do you.”

Aegon placed his hand over your own, holding it against his chest.

“You and I, causing trouble and chaos in the realm forever,” he smiled, giving you a small laugh.

You giggled. “What a pain in the ass for everyone else.”

“Ah, I’d say you’re a pretty big pain in the ass for me,” Aegon jested.

You opened your mouth in offense, but Aegon closed it by kissing you, this time more passionate and intimate than before. You were both sobered up now.

“But you love me still,” you smiled.

[kydrogendragon]

Hob stares down at the small medicinal tube in his hands. He has been staring at it now for nearly an hour, and the ripple of excitement still runs through him. He takes a breath and unscrew the cap. The scent hits his nose immediately, and it's not...unpleasant, not really, but it certainly is strong. He squeezes a small dollop onto the pad of his finger and presses it against the under-responsive scent glands.

He knows, from his doctor and testimonials on the internet and even from friends he knows that the effects aren't instant. It's a gradual process, one that will take time, and yet the moment the cream is absorbed into his skin, Hob just feels better. He feels right.

Hob screws the cap back on and sets it down on the sink, beside his toothbrush and razor, ready for daily use. He looks up into the mirror and smiles.

It takes less time than he expects for Dream to notice. He's now been two months on A as of last Friday, and he's starting to notice changes (finally!) Nothing major, mainly that his scent glands have gotten more noticeable—to him, that is. They've started to itch in a way they never have before. And his sense of smell has gotten sharper too. The first time, he caught a wiff of Dream's scent from inside the crowded bar and knew it was him? Hob was ecstatic. So it shouldn't come as too big of a surprise when Dream stares at him with an even sharper gaze than usual when he answers the door.

Hob stands, bag of take-out in one hand, and a copy of the extended Lord of the Rings movies in the other. Dream looks him up and down, his nostrils flaring. Hob wonders, perhaps a bit tok late, if his scent is finally beginning to change as well now.

"You..." Dream starts, then shakes his head. "Come in."

Hob blinks but steps through, making his way to their usual movie spot in the living room of Dream's flat. "Mrs. Chen tossed in an order of samosas for you again," he says, untying the thin plastic bag handles. He hears the telltale sound of drinks being prepared in the kitchen.

"Mrs. Chen is simply determined to fatten me up," Dream calls back. Hob chuckles as he sets out the containers of food, then sets the DVD case on the television stand.

While Dream's still preoccupied, Hob takes a moment and wipes his hand across his scent glands, and takes a whiff. It's stronger, perhaps, than usual, but it still smells like him, he thinks. Maybe he just stinks in general, and Dream was being polite and not saying anything. He has been sweating a lot more since being on HRT.

He hums and settles into his usual spot on the couch.

[Transition stuff. They're chatting/watching the movie, ect.]

"Have you started seeing someone?" Dream asks him right as the screen prompts them to put in disk two. Hob whips his head back to find Dream staring at him with that piercing gaze once more.

"No? Why?"

"Because you do not smell like yourself." Dream's eyes narrow. Hob's heart jumps in his chest. Shit. Maybe he's gotten a bit nose blind to his own scent.

"I'm not seeing anyone, I promise. I'd tell you if I was." Dream eyes him a moment longer before huffing and turning back to the screen.

"I am not a fragile thing, Hob Gadling," Dream says coolly. "I will survive if you have found a possible mate. It is not as if I am some—some charge you are responsible for, that if you leave, I will shatter. Despite what my sister might claim."

"Dream—"

"And if you have found an alpha you are happy with, then I will be... happy—" his tone is anything but "—for you. But you needn't lie to me when I can smell their scent all over you."

"Their scent..." Hob's hand trails up to his neck, palm resting just above his itching gland.

"Yes. You reek of it. It permeates from you as if you have drowned yourself in it." Dream stands, stepping towards the DVD player but not quite finishing the small journey there. "I will understand if you find yourself with less time for me because of it. It is only natural to want to spend time with the one that makes you happy," he adds on, voice smaller than before.

Hob stands and reaches out, grabbing a hold of Dream's arm. He tenses in Hob's hold but doesn't turn, nor does he pull away.

"Dream, I—There's something I need to tell you." Dream takes a deep breath in as if preparing himself for the inevitable. "I should have told you sooner, I just...I didn't know what you'd think.

"I'm not seeing anyone, that's true, but you're right. This scent you're smelling is new. Guess I've been nose blind to it lately. But it's not anyone else's. It's...it's mine. Well, my new scent, I guess. For this moment of time. It might keep changing, I'm not really sure."

Dream angles his head to stare at Hob from the corners of his eyes, his face confused. Hob smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm transitioning. To an alpha. S'why I smell different. And why a whole bunch of other things about me might soon be...different."

Hob waits. Dream just stares. He can practically see the gears turning in his friend's head.

"Why were you afraid of telling me this?"

Hob lets Dream's arm go and slots his hands in his pockets. He looks down as he speaks. "Dunno. I know after Alex—" Hob sees Dream's muscles in his leg twitch at the name "—you weren't...I thought..." Hob sighs, neck tensing as he struggles against the persistent nagging fear lodged in his chest. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I didn't want to scare you off or lose you because you couldn't feel comfortable around me anymore."

"Do you truly believe me to be so weak?"

"That's not what I meant. You're not weak, I've never thought you were weak, Dream. But you can be uncomfortable. I can count the number of alphas you're fine with in close quarters on one hands and three of them are your own family."

"And why would you think you would not immediately be added to that list?"

Hob inhales, breath catching partway. "I...I don't know. Didn't want to presume? Thought maybe you'd find my new scent unbearable or something."

Dream shakes his head. "You are a fool, Hob Gadling." He turns to him fully, eyeing him no longer with doubt or concern, but with a new hunger in his eyes. His nostrils flare again as he takes in Hob's scent properly. Hob smiles when he hears the quiet happy trill in Dream's chest.

"Acceptable smell then?"

"Quite," Dream replies, stepping closer. "In fact, it is possibly the best scent I've smelled from an alpha before."

Hob's heart sings as Dream calls him an alpha. It's the first time he's heard it from someone he knows, someone who's not a doctor or pharmacist. It feels good. Feels right. And then Dream's leaning closer, and Hob can feel his soft cheek against Hob's neck, and his body flares at the touch. Dream rubs his cheek against his skin, scenting him, letting their scents combine.

Hob takes a deep breath and is smacked by a nose full of Dream. It's intoxicating. It's rich and smooth like silk. And it's doing something to his mind that it never did before. His instincts scream at him, tell him to hold, to touch, to claim. His skin ripples with anticipation, and it's torture. And it's this that he was afraid of. That he wouldn't be used to the instincts that come with being an alpha, that he wouldn't be able to resist or wouldn't be used to stopping himself.

He steps back, pushing Dream back by his shoulders. His hands dig into Dream's shirt, and when he sees the hurt expression on his face, Hob wants nothing more than to pull him back close, to comfort his omega.

No. Not his.

"I'm sorry, I..." Hob grimaces as he drops his hands and wraps them around his chest as if it would somehow quell the utter need to bite and to mate. "I should go, I—I don't want to accidentally hurt you."

"What is wrong?"

Hob growls, heat beginning to rise in him "Fuck," he hisses. "I think it's a damn rut. Well. A pre-rut, technically. Not a true one but—" he's cut off as a sharp lance to his side causes him to gasp. He stpes back, falling into the couch. When he looks back up, Dream's eyes are dark.

"That is what I smelled on you. Rut. Or the start of it. No wonder your scent was so strong. Is this your first?" Dream closes the distance, standing between Hob's legs, which does nothing to help the deaire to pull him down into his lap and ravish him.

"Technically," he replies, breathing growing shorter. "It won't last as long, at least it shouldn't. Maybe a day max. But they'll start more frequently until I get my first actual rut." Hob growls once more as that lance of pain shoots through him again.

"Fucking hell," he yells. "Do your heats hurt like this?"

"Sometimes, yes. Though, it is easier if shared with a partner."

Hob squeezes his eyes tight as he rides out the wave of pain. "Yeah? Guess I'm shit out of luck then."

There are hands on his knees, slowly pulling his legs apart. When he opens his eyes, he sees Dream knelt between them looking predatory. "Not quite. I am here, after all."

Hob's breath catches in his throat. "Dream—"

"I know you do not want me for a mate, but it is not uncommon for friends to help one another through ruts and heats—"

"—the fuck do you mean I don't want you for a mate?" Hob cries, his hands cupping Dream's face. Clearly this was not what he expected Hob to say because Dream kneels there, blinking for a moment before continuing.

"You...do? Wish me as a mate?"

Hob laughs. Dream scowls, but Hob just leans forward and presses a light kiss to his forehead. "I've wanted you for years now, Dream."

[They figure their shit out briefly]

[Then Dream rides Hob like a goddamn professional bull-rider. Hob's never come so much in his life. And he even gets the barest hint of a knot going. Dream compliments it and tells Hob he fills him so well, that he can't wait to get Hob's final knot in him and how he looks forward to going on this journey with Hob as well.]

[ruified]

feeling 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒚 ᝰ.ᐟ

warnings: trans ftm! reader, nsfw/smut, afab! language . characters: chuuya nakahara . synopsis: you just really can’t get the thought of your boyfriend absolutely railing you out of your mind, it’s making your body ache from how badly you need him . wc: 967 . a/n: purely self-indulgent, shoutout to my trans guys who want chuuya bad .

Perhaps you had gotten a little carried away with how handsy and flirtatious you were being with your boyfriend, but, you did want him so desperately—your body was longing to feel him all over you, aching to have him deep inside of you, you just needed him so badly.

After eating dinner, the two of you were sitting on the couch, watching a movie, and you had snuggled right up next to him. You were hardly watching the movie though, you were preoccupied staring at Chuuya’s features. You pressed your body to him and rubbed against him slowly. “Chuuya, baby, you’re so handsome, you know that?” You mumbled to him, your hips attempted to close the space between you two and feel his warmth.

He glanced over at you with a brow raised in intrigue, he placed a gloved hand on your hip steadily and pulled you in closer to him, finally. “There somethin’ you want,'' His hand slid to your ass and squeezed firmly, “or somethin’ you need, darlin’?” His voice was enough to make your breath catch in your throat, not to mention the way those strong fingers of his pressed into your flesh. You felt a giggle rise and escape from pure anticipation, an almost sheepish grin forming on your lips. “Oh, I don’t know…” You walked your fingers up his thigh slowly and attempted to keep his gaze locked with yours, your tongue swiped across your upper lip as you watched the storm that brewed in Chuuya’s eyes. “Maybe I’m simply tired of just looking at you, I wanna feel you a little too.”

He raised a brow rather cockily as a smirk tugged up one corner of his soft lips. “Aw, only a little? You really seem like you want more.” Strong fingers began gently massaging your rear, chills crawled down your spine. Your hands found their way to Chuuya’s chest and slowly rubbed his pectorals, a delightful hum escaped your lips all the while. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t say no to more if that’s what you’re offering.”

“If it’s what you want then I wanna hear you say it.” He brushed your cheek with his other, unoccupied hand as he spoke to you. Looking into his eyes, you were tempted to just give in and tell him what you wanted, but you also knew that wasn’t nearly as much fun as making him get it out of you. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to wait to hear those words leave my mouth, dear.” You cooed back in a tease.

That’s about how you ended up laying on the bed, legs spread with Chuuya holding them open, an ungloved hand gripped onto your soft thigh, and him pressing the tip against your absolutely soaking cunt. He’d been teasing you for so long, your clit was still swollen from him playing with it mere moments ago. He had you beneath him, all sprawled out for him, whimpering and whining for more and he was finally going to give it to you.

“Chuuya…” You mumbled his name before it spilled into another whine. He had already put on a condom, but he made you wait more while he spoke to you, “This is what you get for playing around too much, babe. If you want something, you’ll have to speak up.” He really had you under his thumb at this point, you were so worked up after having been teased for so long you just couldn’t wait any longer.

“Chuuya, darling, please fuck me.” You pleaded while squirming, grasping onto the sheets desperately. Your lover gave you a sly smile and leaned forward, he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Good boy.” The redhead whispered to you before pulling away completely. Without giving you time to recover from the praise, he slid his cock inside effortlessly, filling you up perfectly.

He rubbed your lower stomach slowly with one hand, a delightful hum left slipped from between his lips. “Look at that. You know, it’s almost like you were made just for me,” Chuuya took one of your legs and draped it over his shoulder, then he kissed the inside of your calf. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Chuuya’s cock was more girth than it was length, but that’s alright, it was still pretty sizable. Looks could never amount to how good it felt inside though. You rolled your hips upwards in a desperate attempt to get things started, much to your boyfriend’s amusement, a small chuckle left him as he watched you intently. “Feelin’ desperate, huh, pretty boy?” He took one of your thighs in his hand and kneaded it, his fingers pressed into the bite marks that he had left earlier.

Your hips stuttered momentarily at the feeling of Chuuya’s hand on your thigh but you tried to recover quickly, you nodded. “Please make me feel good…” You pleaded softly, there was a slight whine to your voice that felt like music to Chuuya’s ears. Slowly, Chuuya moved his hips back and forth once, then again, and again—in and out over and over at a steady pace while he groaned. His hand rubbed your thigh gently, as if he were assuring you of how well you were doing.

You couldn’t help but squeeze around him. Each thrust, while slow, hit you deeply, nearing that spot that only he could reach. His fingers started to dig into your thighs, leaving red marks on your skin. As you moaned delightfully, he picked up the pace, like he was rewarding you.

Chuuya soon found himself getting drunk off your love, his hips moving without him even thinking anymore as he muttered your name with slurred praises. “Such a good boy, all for me.”

You were completely his and there was nothing more you wanted than that.

[ma1dmer]

Elden Ring - Blaidd NSFW

I will never deny myself a good knot or heat headcanon

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex): he can't help but fuss over you, he'll be kind of tense, quick to jump to your every request until he is sure you are fully relaxed and comfortable

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he likes everything about you, for him there isn’t just one part to focus on, its everything that simply makes you, you, being in the position he is and having the duty he has, he notices new things he obsesses over every day

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person): breeding kink? breeding kink! he won't pressure you into it, but the idea of letting him knot you completely, it's definitely something that keeps him up some nights

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): i can see him as feeling guilty sometimes of the way he wants you, maybe wanting to try out some sort of primal play, due to well him being a half wolf, but not wanting to scare you off, so he is left with his imagination, thinking of chasing you through a forest, not worrying about your safety and being the only actual predator around, and then properly claiming you when he manages to capture you

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?): not that much, he is so duty bound that it's hard for him to relax and allow himself to chase after someone in that way

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual): very vanilla, the only thing important to him is being able to see you, both to see your lovely expressions and to keep an eye for the subtle shift between pleasure and pain

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): he can laugh, he wants you to laugh as well, won’t initiate those moments as often though, more preoccupied on making you feel pleasure, but he won’t shy away from them, and your laugher always brings a smile to his own face

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): //hmmmmm thats a tough one but i would say he might be very hairy, thats kind of a controversial opinion though

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): very passionate, he takes his time with you because he knows later on when he gets closer he might get lost to pleasure , so he makes sure you are fully prepared for him with a bunch of compliments and kisses and other types of foreplay

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon): he usually doesn’t have to, his duty keeping both his body and mind quite busy, also his needs rise when you are there with him

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks): he is very vanilla

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do): would prefer to have you somewhere protected with four walls and maybe even comfortable on a bed, but sometimes you simply don’t have much of an option so he won’t complain if the best you two can do is a more quite part of the forest for example

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): praise, it’s something kind of embarrassing for him, but it’s nice to be appreciated especially by someone he cares for so much, it makes him want to be even better for you, prove to you how good to you he can be in more ways than one

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): hurting you, he simply can’t, things can get out of hand sometimes, due to how massive he is, but he tries to be as gentle with you as he can

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): his favourite thing to do, diving between your thighs, your hands gripping his fur, his claws digging in the plush of your thighs as he holds you still for his tongue, he also likes face riding a lot.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.): will usually start slower, but the closer to his orgasm he gets the rougher and faster he gets, apologising with every thrust , telling you how much he loves you, how he just can't control himself

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): would prefer not to purely cause he is worried about you not being properly prepped up for him but otherwise it’s a welcome distraction

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): would rather not, doesn’t want any surprises and its kind of hard convincing him to try out something entirely new, he doesnt want to disappoint you but prefers to stick to more vanilla things

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): being a fighter is his entire being, so he has a lot of stamina, a lot of energy, however, due to, complications //cough knot cough he mostly goes for one long round 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): he doesn't feel intimidated by anything, he wants you to feel good so he would absolutely be game with using toys on you, however he himself prefers your touch

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he can't deny you, he simply can't so teasing is out of the question, he is more playful during your day to day but he prefers to serve you when you are naked.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make): surprisingly quiet, he grunts and huffs a lot and the closer he gets the more he growls ,his voice strained low and grumbly as he warns you he is about to cum.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): I think he would have some sort of oral fixation , gently biting into your shoulder, or licking your fingers or running his tongue up your legs and to your thighs

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): big very big and thick, has a knot for sure

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): he is in control of his needs for the most part but he does tend to get excited when you are around, your scent ,your voice, the feel of your body beneath his big hands, you make him lose his mind

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he is surprisingly quick to fall asleep, he'll be holding you close, face pressed at the top of your head and as you are talking his eyes will droop until he is finally asleep, if you wake him up he'll try to pretend he wasn’t asleep

[luniidae]

~ Little Dove ~

This is not a new chapter of

Of Gold and Blood, but I just wanted to write and draw some Luviaarlep to add some lore 🖤

Luvia is around 27 years old here, 10 years after chapter 11.

Once again, Raphael was out for business. Once again, Luvia would sneak in his chambers. 

It had become their little ritual. Sometimes, when the Devil was away, she paid a visit to his incubus.

She was going to lose herself in his arms and in his sheets, to find some warmth and forget the coldness with which the Master of the house treated her for a year now. She would have never imagined spending time with Haarlep, since she had hated herself through him for years after their first and unfortunate encounter. But paradoxically, he had been the only one able to bring her some comfort when Raphael started to act coldly towards her all of the sudden.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would come, little dove...", said Haarlep in a sweet voice. He was on the large four-poster bed, lying on his left side, his head resting on one of his hands. 

The incubus stared at the Dracanist as she approached. He always had this predatory glint in his eyes, like a wolf ready to pounce.

Luvia had gotten used to being nothing more than a lamb in the dynamic of their relationship... Or a dove, as he liked to call her.

A few minutes later, she had joined him on the bed, letting his hands caress his shoulders to slide the straps of her crimson nightie. But she seems absent this time.

"Hm? What is troubling you, pet?", The incubus asked, a semblance of concern in his voice.

Luvia seemed a bit taken aback by his question and looked immediately for the right words, the right answer.

"Nothing, I'm fine".

He raised an eyebrow, that was definitely not the right answer.

"Come on, Luv', are you trying to insult me? Even a blind man could see how preoccupied you look"

One of his hands reached her chin to lift her head.

"Tell me"

His velvet and usually playful voice was almost commanding, and his piercing eyes were locked on hers. But the young woman couldn't find a way to express her thoughts, as if the words were stuck in her throat.

"It is about him again?"

It sounded more like a rhetorical question. Of course it was about Raphael, but Luvia tried to deny it and turned her head to look away. She remained silent for a few seconds, frowning, her red eyes becoming a bit shiny.

"... He doesn't even look at me sometimes", she said sadly, "It's like I don't even exist. I would almost be tempted to say that I would rather he spoke to me badly than not at all. At least he wouldn't ignore me"

Surprisigly, Haarlep felt like a pang of irritation. He knew how the Cambion used to treat her now, and he had an idea about the reason behind such behavior. But he hadn't the time to answer anything when Luvia spoke again.

"I'm considering leaving the House of Hope"

His eyes widened, he wasn't expecting her to make such a decision. She has never left this place before.

"You... You want to leave?", he almost looked sad.

"No, but...", she seemed about to cry for a second, her voice was shaking and her eyes were becoming wet, "I feel so tired sometimes, you know... Tired of enduring his moods, his harsh words... When he deigns to speak to me, of course. It's like... It's like he suddenly hated me overnight and I don't even know why"

"Where would you go?"

"I don't know... Baldur's Gate, probably. Raphael used to talk about this place a lot"

She took a breath. She didn't want to leave, this House was her home and the idea of being far away from it and its residents was heartbreaking.

"I... I don't know what else to do", she was trying to keep her composure but she couldn't help herself but crying, "I tried to talk to him but it makes it worse, sometimes I wonder if he's not simply disgusted by me. And maybe he's right? Maybe I'm not enough, not good enough, or smart enough, or whatever enough, I don't know. Maybe he realized I wasn't as useful as he expected"

She spoke more and more quickly as she was losing her nerves.

"Hush now", he cupped her teary face with his both hands, staring at her intensely with a hint of... Tenderness? "You're so hard on yourself, my little dove. You are so much more than that, more than what you think... Don't let such a man make you think you're not enough or worthy. Actually, never let anyone make you feel this way, because you're just perfect the way you are"

Her eyes widened, unable to blink, a few silent tears were running along her cheeks.

"Moreover, you're a smart and a very beautiful creature. You would be surprised to know how many people you can manipulate thanks to this pretty little face of yours, my dear. With your charms and your eloquence, you could bring the entire world on its knees"

She sniffed, "How can you be so sure?"

"If you can tame devils, you can subdue anyone"

Luvia smiled shyly, flattered by Haarlep's encouragement. She didn't notice his allusion to him and Raphael though... She chuckled and wiped her tears away.

"Would you teach me? I mean, how to bring the world on its knees, as you say"

"Anything you want, dove"

[television-overload]

fate is the handspike

(an X-Files ficlet)

[Read on AO3]

Summary:

Starting on February 23, 1964, Teena Mulder begins to worry about her young son. At first, she thinks maybe he's wishing for a little sister, a wish that will be granted very soon. But he insists the little girl he talks to is called Dana, and she's too little to play, but she likes when he reads his books to her.

(fic below the cut)

i.

At first, Teena thinks it's cute.

"She's just a baby, mommy, she can't play yet," he'd say.

"Oh, is that right?" she'd reply, indulging him in his childish fantasies. Perhaps this was his way of asking for a sister. The other moms in the neighborhood often urged her to give Fox a sibling, citing a child's need for company and social engagement, but Fox had always seemed so happy to play alone. She's not on the best of terms with her husband at the moment, either, which complicates things.

But then there's times when she sees Fox on the floor, legs splayed out before him as he recites his favorite picture books to his imaginary friend, and she wonders if she ought to be worried. Just a little.

Dr. Seuss, Curious George, Clifford the Big Red Dog... The boy has a photographic memory. Though he's too young to properly read, he has a grasp on the basic plots and recounts them in great detail, turning the pages as he goes.

"This one is called 'Where the Wild Things Are,' Dana," he says, because his friend's name��he insists—is Dana. He turns the book in his hand and shows the colorful illustration on the cover to a patch of carpet on the living room floor. "Don't worry, it's not scary," he assures her. Her. It. Whatever it is he's spent his days talking to since late February.

When he tells the story, he uses his own name, instead of 'Max.' That's how she'd always read it to him, and that's the only way he knows.

"And Fox told the monsters to be still!" he narrates with enthusiasm. "He used a magic trick and looked right in their BIG yellow eyes, and they were all scared. They said Fox is the most wild thing of all, and they made him king!"

ii.

There was one night when she'd woken to find Fox standing in the corner of his room, speaking softly to the wall.

"Shh, it's okay, Dana," he soothed in his little voice. "Here, I'll sing you a song. Twinkle twinkle little star...."

She never tells Bill what she's seen. He's always too busy to notice himself. But others know.

"He's quite an imaginative young fellow," Spender notes, taking a draw from his cigarette as Fox rolls around in the grass outside the house in Quonochontaug. Since "Dana" learned to crawl, he's been even more preoccupied than usual. He shows her all his toys, tells her the names of all his action figures. He announces to his mother one day that he's going to teach Dana how to walk. That she can only stand on her own for a little bit right now, but she doesn't cry anymore when she falls down.

Bill, if he ever catches wind of this, must think he's talking about one of the other kids from Teena's ladies' group. But there's no "Dana" in this neighborhood. Not on the Vineyard, either. She's checked.

iii.

The day she finds out she's pregnant, a part of her wonders. Though her knowledge of her husband's work is small, she knows enough to gather that things she might have thought impossible, could in fact be possible. Perhaps her son had been having visions of his baby sister, long before she was even conceived. Maybe it had simply been a sign that he would one day be a big brother. Soon.

She'd long since dispelled thoughts of ghosts and hauntings and exorcisms.

He tells Dana all about the baby in mommy's tummy. He giggles and makes silly faces, pausing in between sentences, which she gathers must mean his friend has developed the ability to speak.

"Mommy, she said my name! That's right! Fox! Fox!"

iv.

When Samantha is born, "Dana" seems to disappear overnight. This, at least, supports her theory that he had simply been preparing himself for a new sibling, and after a few years, she's completely dismissed the issue. Fox shows no other signs of strange or unusual behavior. He is nothing but a doting big brother, who occasionally gets annoyed by his freckle-faced kid sister, as any brother is wont to do. He reads to her, plays games with her, watches the television with her. They're two peas in a pod, and not once does the name "Dana" escape his lips. She is all but forgotten.

Until he's twelve years old. Samantha is gone, and Teena lacks the patience to deal with his questioning.

"Mom? Does the name 'Dana' mean anything to you?" he asks.

"What? Of course not, Fox, why would you ask such a thing?"

He looks down at his feet, shoulders slumping. "No reason. Forget I asked."

v.

When Fox lays awake at night, the bedroom next to his now dull and empty, he thinks he can hear a voice. It isn't Samantha's—though he'd thought so at first.

"By heaven, man," she reads, "we are turned round and round in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike. And all the time, lo! that smiling sky, and this unsounded sea!"

What does this girl know about fate? What does she know of this upside-down world?

"Read the next chapter, Dana!" he hears another girl's voice speak. The words are faint—muffled—like he's underwater. But her voice is clear.

He falls asleep, like most nights, listening to the tales of Ahab and Starbuck, and a great white whale.

-.-.-

Tag List ♡: @today-in-fic @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @numinousmysteries @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @teenie-xf @thursdayinspace

[suga-kookiemonster]

satisfy 05

summary⇢ “listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do? pairing⇢ seokjin/reader, namjoon/reader, taehyung/reader, …..jimin/reader word count⇢ 15.9k genre⇢ smut | escort!au | ceo!au (kinda) warnings⇢ 😇😇😇😇 *chin hands sweetly* STRAP IN, FOLKS!!: GANGBANG. this chapter will include three brothers having sex with the reader at the same time (but not with each other). if this bothers you, please feel free to skip!, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral (f+m giving/receiving), fingering, face fucking, exhibitionism, voyuerism, da booty getting ate like groceries, assplay, name calling, daddy kink, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, marking, spitroasting, cumplay, bukakke 😭, honestly this is a hot ass MESS and i should be sorry but i’m not 🤷🏽‍♀️ a/n⇢ well, hello~ long time no see!!!! i'm super pumped about this chapter because it has literally been in the works since i planned this whole fic out years ago 😭 a lot of planning and struggling later, and WE FINALLY HERE 🙌🏾 🙌🏾 i am so relieved that this finally exists in the world and not just in my head lmao. thank you all for hanging with me for this long and being so patient. i hope this chapter lives up to your expectations 😈 only the epilogue left! 😮‍💨👀 mood for this chapter is this song~ hope everyone enjoys!

chapters⇢ previous | next | series masterlist

Days quickly morphed into weeks, time continuing to flow even without you consciously noticing it pass you by. You were just so busy, both your schoolwork and your unconventional part-time job a whirlwind of activity that left you too preoccupied to do much else. Your already scant social life was starting to suffer, but honestly? You were completely fine with that—a neverending schedule of sex, sleep, and studying was more than enough, and it was highly unlikely you would be able to fit anything else onto your overflowing plate anyway.

It was expected for you to not have that much free time, anyway. Jimin’s was waning too, as the further the two of you got into your studies, the busier you both became. You still texted often to make sure each other was alive, but with your differing schedules, the new normal became not getting to see him in person for weeks on end.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t losing steam. Burning the candle at both ends was finally starting to catch up with you, but there wasn’t much you could do about it other than focusing on powering through it. This was the career path you chose—your dream—and so you simply just had to bear everything that came along with it. You were willing to put the work in to reach your goals, and you just kept reminding yourself that how you were living now was just a means to an end. 

Not that you at all only found the Kims to be a means to an end. Yes, they were paying your way through school, but you still really enjoyed the time you spent with each of them. They were all great company in different ways, and at this point, the only time you were freed from the library’s clutches was when one of them wanted to take you somewhere, so you found them to be more of a welcome distraction than anything else. 

Unfortunately, that still didn’t change the fact that at the end of the day, you were bone tired.

You had always been good at compartmentalizing. But though you tried your best to not let your slowly-building fatigue show, even your new employers could tell that you were being ran a bit ragged. Namjoon came to pick you up for a date one day, and all it took was one long look at you while you were trying to buckle your seatbelt for him to put the car in park and hustle you back upstairs instead, despite your protests. You thought that maybe he decided to forgo your movie plans for much more carnal activities, but once you were back inside your apartment, he sprawled himself onto your couch and reached for you. You were confused, but when you reflexively took his hand, he simply pulled you down with him and easily folded you into his body. 

God, he smelled good. And was comfortable and warm, so it didn’t take long for you to nod off, despite only being fifteen minutes into whatever Netflix movie he had put on. Namjoon spent his scheduled date letting you snore into his chest, and when you woke up hours later, groggy and discombobulated, you found him already gone and a blanket thrown over you.

It didn’t take a genius to realize he must have said something to his brothers. The next day, seemingly out of the blue, you got an email notification that Wendy, Seokjin’s assistant, had canceled an upcoming work lunch that had been on the calendar for weeks. (You highly doubted the lunch itself was canceled—just that Jin had decided to go alone.) And you were so used to Taehyung’s frequent visits that when he didn’t stop by for four days in a row, it became blatantly obvious that something was amiss. 

They were giving you space.

But if you were honest, though you appreciated the sudden breathing room in your schedule, all of them suddenly pulling out of the arrangement was making you uneasy. This was a job, after all, and you weren’t fully holding up your end of the bargain. Hell, the week before had been your period, so you hadn’t slept with any of them then, either. And, considering the fact that all three Kims were set to go on an overseas business trip soon, the amount of leave you were inadvertently taking was quickly adding up.  

You needed this money. You needed this money, this was not what they agreed to, and you were nervous you were starting to frustrate them.

To their credit, none of them ever seemed to be. Early on, when your period made its first appearance as the perpetual wrench in your plans, Seokjin had casually informed you that he was totally fine with just putting a towel down. However, when he saw you weren’t nearly as enthused with the idea, he simply gave you an easy shrug and said, “Then take whatever time you need.” His brothers had been equally as accommodating, and have been ever since (though Taehyung sometimes still liked to playfully pout at you when you told him Aunt Flo was in town).

But the fact was, you ultimately weren’t holding up your end of the bargain, and that knowledge was constantly hovering in the back of your mind and making you a bit anxious. That was why, days before he was scheduled to leave for his three week business trip, you took initiative and asked Taehyung if he wanted to come over. 

Both Seokjin and Namjoon had already graciously canceled their standing appointments with you for the second week in a row, but Taehyung had never had a standing appointment. He was always much more spontaneous than his brothers, and that personality trait was no different when it came to you, so that’s what you were counting on.

[1:32] Hey! Did you want to come over tomorrow? [1:32] Or later today, I guess

Despite it being so late, Tae apparently hadn’t gone to bed yet. He was a bit of a night owl, like you.

Taehyung [1:34] Well hello~ Taehyung [1:34] So nice to hear from you, sweetcheeks. How’s it been going? [1:35] Sweetcheeks, Taehyung? Really? Taehyung [1:35] What? They’ve always looked pretty sweet to me 😌👀

You scoffed, amused and fond. Always an incorrigible flirt, that one.

[1:35] Yeah, okay lol  [1:36] So if they’re so sweet, what are you gonna do about it?

A pause, one slightly too long for someone whose phone was in their hand and had been actively responding to you only moments before. You knew you had him even before his reply finally came through.

Taehyung [1:37] What time?

The next day, you focused on getting as much of your work done as you could before the hard stop of when you knew you had to start getting ready. You took a long shower, letting the hot water relax your stiff muscles before carefully maneuvering into the lingerie that was still prettily packaged in the bag from the boutique you got it from, untouched on the floor of your closet since you bought it.

You hadn’t seen him a while, so it only made sense to you to make things a little more exciting than usual. Spice it up. Honestly, sex with Taehyung was always anything with boring, but the thigh-highs you slipped into were just as much for you as him. You had been so focused on your studies that you couldn’t remember the last time you wore anything other than court-approved suits, sweatpants, or pajamas. It would be nice to feel something other than just tired again. To feel desired. Sexy.

And even you could admit the outfit you had chosen was sexy. A crimson, lacy bodysuit thing that did little to obscure the dusk of your nipples and disappeared between your asscheeks. The matching thigh-highs, joined with garters. You even had a pair of heels that you planned to wear—ones that made your legs look a mile long, but hurt like a bitch every time you attempted to wear them out. Despite their shortcomings, you were willing to slip on the deathtraps because luckily, for this particular occasion, you wouldn’t have to go anywhere in them, nor would they stay on you for very long. 

You were even planning on putting on a little makeup, on properly doing your hair for the first time in weeks and giving the bun you had been sporting a rest. However, all it took was a knock on your door to put an end to all those extras.

You frowned at the sound and padded over to your front door, happy you had already thrown on one of your law school hoodies to keep yourself warm until the festivities properly started. The sight of a familiar man through the peephole, hands resting comfortably in his slacks, threw you off.

Automatically, your hands were disengaging all the locks, were swinging the door open. “You’re early—”

Whatever words you had next immediately dissipated on your tongue. Taehyung was there, but he apparently came with company. Your mind whirred, trying to come up with a perfectly logical reason for why all three Kim brothers were at your doorstep right now.  

“Your hair,” you blurted, your scrambled brain latching onto the easiest subject first.

“Hmm?” Taehyung ruffled his newly dyed locks, the onyx hue a stark difference from the silver you were used to. “Oh yeah, I guess I haven’t seen you all week. My dad wanted me to dye it to a more ‘appropriate’ color before the conference. But whatever—it was time for a change, anyway. And this will be much easier to upkeep.”

You could only continue to stare at him as he spoke, your eyes naturally drifting over his shoulder at your additional visitors. 

All three of them were dressed pretty casually, which was normal for Taehyung and Namjoon, but less so for Seokjin when not in the comfort of his own home. The soft pink of his sweatsuit was a stark contrast to the sharp intelligence of his eyes, and he met your gaze for only a few seconds before he was turning to meet Namjoon’s instead, a pinch in his brow. 

Taehyung spoke again before either of them could say anything. “You gonna keep us out here?” he teased, casually leaning against the doorframe.

That finally jumpstarted you out of your haze, scrambling to move out of the way and gesture them inside. “Yes, of course. Come in!” Before your nosy neighbor caught them and assumed you were slutting it up.

(She would technically be right, but still. It was the principle. Your life was none of that judgy old shrew’s business.) 

Tae strolled in like he always did—like he owned the place—but you noticed his brothers’ strides seemed a bit more hesitant than the confidence you were usually witness to. Namjoon’s mouth was slightly pursed in the way you’d long learned meant he was thinking. Why did they seem as confused as you did?

“Hi,” you hedged anyway, a small, puzzled smile on your lips. “It’s been a while. Sorry if I’m acting weird—I just wasn’t expecting you, so I’m a little thrown off.”

Understanding immediately crossed Seokjin’s features, but you only got a second to see it before he was whipping towards his youngest brother, appalled. 

Namjoon was looking at him too, clearly irritated. “Are you serious, Taehyung?”

“What?” you asked, gaze flitting between the three of them in hope of finding some sort of clarity. 

“You never asked her?” Seokjin snapped.

“You know that’s not cool, man,” Namjoon sighed, an agitated hand running though blond locks.  

Why were they standing in your hallway and having whole conversations in front of you like you weren’t even there? “Never asked me what?” you cut in bemusedly, a little louder than you intended. It worked, at least, all three men immediately turning back to you.

Taehyung, for his part, looked properly contrite, cringing a little at the exasperation in your voice. “I’m sorry,” he told the room before placing his attention solidly back on you. His eyes were soft and sincere. “It truly slipped my mind, and I’m sorry, _____. I didn’t think.”

“When do you ever?” Seokjin snarked, but you ignored him, focused solely on Taehyung.

“What, Tae?” you encouraged gently. “What are you sorry for?”

It was clear from the hunch of his shoulders that he felt bad. “Um…”

“He invited us to come with him to meet you today,” Namjoon supplied. He gave his little brother a disappointed shake of his head. “But that’s not a decision for him to make. Is it, Tae.”

“I just knew that none of us have seen her in a while,” Tae whined. “And _____, when you reached out yesterday, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity since we’re about to leave the country for a few weeks.”

“I should have known better,” Seokjin muttered below his breath, looking heavenward in his annoyance. “I’m really sorry about this, _____. You never marked group activities as a no and I assumed Taehyung actually asked you like an adult, so I thought you were on board. I can leave.”

You blinked, still trying to grasp what was going on. “You were…trying to share your time?” you asked Taehyung slowly.

He nodded meekly. “I don’t mind sharing,” came his honest answer.

“But does she,” Seokjin scoffed, rubbing his temples in irritation. “That’s the only thing that matters. And to think otherwise is just selfish, Taehyung.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” The words left your lips before your brain could even register them, likely spurred on by how the increasingly chastened expression on Taehyung’s face. The three of them looked at you in surprise.

“It’s okay?” Namjoon parroted, an eyebrow raised in question.

You swallowed, mind racing to actually consider the consequences of what your mouth had just offered. But your nod of confirmation came almost immediately, because you knew Taehyung had never been trying to trap you. One of the qualities that simply made him him was his spontaneity, and while that made him fun and interesting to be around, it also was a double-edged sword that could easily make you end up in situations like this.

Tae knew none of them had seen you in a while, he knew they were soon going to jet out of the country, and had simply been trying to be nice in inviting his brothers along. He didn’t mean any harm.

“It’s okay,” you repeated, giving him a reassuring smile that visibly loosened some of the tension in his body. “You can all stay.”

The words settled between the four of you, heavy in the resulting quiet. Teeming with implication. You still weren’t completely sure what you were agreeing to, but what you did know was that you were going to need something to help stave off the nerves slowly bubbling beneath your skin. You cleared your throat, turning to make your way to the kitchen. “I think I need a drink.”

You didn’t glance back at them, but you could still feel them trailing you. Feel the heat of their gaze, and even the distinct heat of a body against your back, only a whisper away. Instead, you busied yourself with rooting around in your pantry and pulling out a handle of tequila. 

“This for me?” hummed a familiar velvety voice, close enough for you to easily deduce who had invited himself into your space so intimately. Taehyung. 

You looked over your shoulder at him, immediately frozen with what you saw. His eyes were blatantly trailing your figure, undeterred by the obstacle of your sweatshirt and easily roving your stockinged legs and feet. A dangerous smirk crawled across his face that had a delighted shiver racing down your spine in anticipation. “What?” came your stupefied reply. 

“This.” His gaze lingered on your toes, but quickly rose so he could playfully flick the zipper of your sweatshirt. “Whatever you’ve got on under there. Is it for me?”

Heat licked between your thighs at his deceptively light tone. At the way he was looking at you. “No,” you sniffed. Not wanting to give in just yet. “Just something I wear around the house.”

“Well, it’s nice,” came another voice, and you were instantly reminded of your other guests. Namjoon was leaning against an adjacent counter, eyes dark. “You never wear stuff like this for me—Taehyung must be your favorite.”

Startled despite his teasing tone, your hands flew up in protest. “N-No, it’s not that—”

“Of course I’m the favorite,” Tae sassed, throwing you a wink. “It’s okay to admit it, _____. We all know!” 

There was an almost immediate snort from behind you. Technically quiet enough to go unnoticed, but full of just enough derision that Taehyung’s proverbial hackles raised at the very sound of it. His head whipped to the source.

Jin looked deceptively bored, meeting his youngest brother’s glower with a flat stare. A single lifted eyebrow said everything his mouth deigned not worth the effort. What?

Tae scowled at his brother’s obvious disdain, but then, after a few moments, he simply shot an exhale from his nose and shook his head. “You’re clearly goading me,” he chuckled. “But you know what? It’s not gonna work this time. If you’re gonna be a jackass, you can just go.”

“I think you’re vastly overestimating your importance in this situation,” Seokjin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “But what else is new.”

“Guys,” Namjoon sighed, holding up pacifying hands in an attempt to ward off the rising tension.

You observed the whole exchange silently, still too off-kilter from the situation you’d suddenly found yourself in to do much more than look from brother to brother as if you were watching a tennis match. 

This was only the second time the four of you had all been in the same room—with the first being your original meeting discussing the contract. Well, technically third, if you counted that party Taehyung took you to so many months ago—the one that rerouted your life onto this much more interesting path. But the three of them hadn’t really mingled then, so you had been left to speculate their group dynamic. 

Now, though, you were starting to suspect your inklings were true.

Seokjin, the oldest, with lots of responsibility and expectations always set on him. Taehyung, the spoiled youngest who grew up without any of the same restraints, but also without any of the same parental attention. And Namjoon, the calm, stereotypical middle child, the glue who held it all together. The forced peacemaker who made sure that any of his brothers’ unspoken resentment for each other never got too far out of line.

“The only person who can tell me to leave is _____,” Seokjin continued, the sound of your name immediately throwing you out of your thoughts. You straightened, unprepared to suddenly find yourself locking eyes with him and surprised at the intensity you found there. “And is that what you want, _____? Do you want me to leave?”

“No, of course not,” you blurted. You didn’t miss the smug look Jin threw his brother, nor the way Tae’s lips pursed in irritation, but you couldn’t really find it in you to care about any of that right now. With a steadying breath, you focused instead on shuffling over to another cabinet and pulling out a glass.

It was starting to hit you. You weren’t sure what in the hell was going on, what exactly it was you agreed to, but whatever it was, you now had all three of your lovers in your apartment at the same time. Respectful of you and your space, but still obviously ogling you—ravenous predators slowly and eagerly circling their next meal.

It all made your skin prickle in anticipation, the thrill of the unknown buzzing in your veins.    

“Choo choo,” you muttered to yourself sarcastically, pouring a healthy amount of tequila into your cup.

Namjoon raised a brow. “What?”

“What?” you parroted immediately, startled that he had heard you.

“I just…nevermind, I thought you said something.”

“Oh. Uh, I was just wondering if any of you wanted any.”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“I’ll take some,” Tae piped up brightly, moving into your space before you could blink. Body a breath away as he reached over to you to pull his own cup from the cabinet. You froze at his proximity, unable to look away as he smirked down at you. “Choo choo,” he murmured with a wink.

Before you could react with anything more than a sharp gasp, he was pulling away again, reaching for the tequila bottle.

Jesus.

With a slightly unsteady hand, heart pumping furiously in your chest, you welcomed the burning liquid down your throat, sticking your cup out for Tae to pour you more once it was empty.

“So how have you all been?” you babbled, tone a little too high and strained to be casual. “It’s been so long, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me. Or that you’d made other arrangements or something. I don’t think I’ve ever been paid to be stood up before, that’s kind of embarrassing—” A hand, warm and gentle, rested on your arm, and immediately, all coherent thought escaped your electrified body.   

It was Seokjin, slowly rubbing what he likely thought were calming assurances, but only amping you up more. “She rambles when she’s nervous,” he informed his brothers, the small smile on his lips betraying his endearment.  

“Aw, don’t be nervous, babe. I’ll take good care of you,” Taehyung cooed, effortlessly draining his glass and motioning towards yours. “Want another one?”

No, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. The last thing you needed was something that could lower your gag reflex even more. Vomming all over them would certainly make for an interesting going away gift, but then they would most certainly ghost you for real.

You shook your head of the negative thoughts, timidly swiping a tongue over your suddenly very dry lips. “So how exactly is this going to work?”  

“The way it’s always worked,” Tae reassured you with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s just you and me. The only difference is that they’re here too—but you don’t have to worry about that. I told them they could only watch.”

It took you a few moments to process that, your eyes silently roving over each of them and finding them all watching you right back. Ready, but waiting. 

Look, don’t touch. Another interesting twist to a night that was already looking to be interesting.

“Is that okay?” Seokjin asked, clearly intending to follow your lead. Leaving the ball in your court. And another glance at the other two showed they obviously shared their older brother’s sentiments. 

A memory flickered teasingly in the corner of your mind—the trepidation of being fucked in front of a window where anyone could see. The undeniable thrill that followed the thought of being watched. 

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you finally replied. “If…you want to.”

“Do you want us to?” Namjoon pressed sternly, refusing to let go of your gaze. Communication, he always insisted. Solid consent, or no consent at all. Yes or no.

All three stared at you. You shifted under their attention, a bit out of your element, but ultimately sure. “Yes,” you breathed.

“Okay,” Namjoon simply replied with an approving nod. With a pleased smile that brought forth dimpled cheeks. But then he shifted towards you more, and the slight change in his stance seemed to completely change his demeanor. His intention. “What’s your safeword?”

You knew he knew it; knew he knew you did as well. The two of you had been together enough times for a rhythm to between you to form, so this repeating of superfluous information was likely solely for his brothers’ benefits.

“Cinnamon.”

“And if you can’t say it?”

“Tap you 3 times.”

“Good.” 

“Safeword?” Taehyung chuckled incredulously, eyes a little wide in surprise. “Well shit.”

“Yeah, and I know how to use it too, if you get out of line,” you teased, but your mind was already elsewhere. It didn’t matter that Tae was the one who would be actively playing with you today—you had spent enough time with Namjoon that you had apparently been conditioned. The blond had asked you your safeword, you repeated it to him, and so the scene had officially started. All of your previous unease ebbed away as you couldn’t help but focus instead on what you were all here for. 

Carefully, you set your glass down on the counter and moved to exit the kitchen, brushing against Taehyung on your way out and shooting a pointed look at him over your shoulder. “You ready?”

“Baby, you know I’m always ready,” he purred, jolted into action and eagerly trailing down the hallway after you. “I’ve just been waiting on you.”

You didn’t bother to turn to see if the others were following you. You knew they were, their very presence somehow making the hallway feel like it was shrinking, overstuffed. Still, you tried not to let that unnerve you, continuing on with purpose until you made it to your destination and were hovering awkwardly next to your bed. 

They all filed into the room, one by one, and you bit your lip, fully out of your element. Three handsome men had allowed you to lure them here, but now that they were? You had no idea what your next move was supposed to be.  

Luckily for you, Tae was more than happy to take initiative, immediately slinking up to your side and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. The gesture was so ridiculous that you couldn’t help but snort, and he simply grinned, pleased with himself for lessening your nerves, even if only a little. He reached for you without a second thought and you let him, eager to fall into more familiar territory. 

Taehyung’s large hands smoothed over your hips, your ass with clear familiarity. A finger curled under the top of your thigh highs, lightly snapping the elastic against your skin. “You really did this is for me, huh?”

The dark look in his eye had the breath catching in your throat. “Shut up,” you scoffed unconvincingly.

He tsked, the wicked curl of his lips ruining any illusion of disappointment. “You know I like it when you’re mean to me.” 

You could only blink in response. You hadn’t known that. Was he serious? Was this another level to his subjugation, or was he just pulling your leg? 

Before your brain had the opportunity to come up with a proper retort, Tae was reaching out a finger to tap the zipper of your sweatshirt, gaze focused on its slow, teasing sway. “So.”

Your brow lifted, an unspoken prompting. 

The swinging zipper almost slowed to a stop, and when he reached out this time, it was to lightly run his thumb over the metal, to slowly roll it between his fingers. You swallowed, the anticipation of what you knew to be coming only adding to the charged silence between you. Distractedly, the tip of his tongue swiped across his lips, drawing your gaze. “You invited me to play,” he finally continued, voice honeyed amber. Crushed velvet. 

As if he hadn’t been playing with you from the moment he entered your apartment. You tilted your head anyway—an invitation and a challenge. “Then let’s play.” 

A small smile touched his lips, clearly pleased that his teasing invoked yours. But he didn’t say anything else, his response simply to finally guide the zipper down its track. Leisurely, unwrapping you like a present and delighting in the underneath.  

And you had technically dressed yourself to be one, so you let him. Let him take his time so he could fully appreciate the swell of your breasts, the purposeful, flirty peek of your nipples through the scarlet lace. You wished you had had the time to properly do your hair and makeup and slip on the heels you had set aside just for the occasion so he could get your full intended effect, but your less than perfect appearance didn’t seem to dissuade Taehyung at all. No, he simply slid his hands under the fabric when he finally got impatient enough—fingers light and palms warm—and pushed the sweatshirt off your shoulders with eyes that were all pupil. His hungry gaze carefully roved your form, a lingering path from head to toe that made your skin tingle in its wake.  

His lips parted, tongue giving them another distracted swipe, and then he finally moved again, making his way to your dresser. Now that his broad form wasn’t blocking your view of the rest of the room, you were quickly reminded of the room’s other occupants. Seokjin and Namjoon still hovered near the doorway, quiet, but obviously also drinking in the sight of you now that they could see you properly. Your breath caught, not used to having so much obvious desire directed at you, the air so thick with it you could practically taste it, heady and syrupy.

A light scraping sound regained your attention, and when you turned your head, you realized Taehyung had pulled open a particular drawer—one that he had quickly became familiar with since the start of your arrangement. He pulled out the lube he was looking for, but was much more interested in something else in there, if the mischievous look on his face was any indicator. “What’s this?” he asked, mouth a delighted box, and before you could chastise him about going through your things without permission, he was already pulling out your wand vibrator. “You got a new toy?”

“It’s not new,” you huffed, slightly embarrassed despite everything. “I just usually keep it in the shower.”

You saw his Adam’s apple dip at that information. Saw the wheels turning behind his eyes before he was quickly shutting the drawer and headed towards the bed with his loot in hand. He sat on the edge and eagerly motioned for you to follow.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously at the vibrator he had neglected to put away, but Taehyung just reached for your hand and gently pulled you towards him until you were close enough for him to properly guide onto his lap. “Don’t be like that,” he murmured against your neck, his hot breath against the skin inciting a shiver to run through you. “Gotta prep you for the show.”

Ah yes, the show. He had faced you away from him, so now it was impossible for you to forget your captive audience. At some point, Seokjin had pulled your office chair away from your desk, and now he was lounging across the room, in direct view of the bed. His legs were comfortably spread, almost as if it was an open invitation for you to crawl onto his lap instead. Namjoon, on the other hand, was casually leaning against the desk, arms crossed. Eyes dark.

Lips trailed up your neck, quickly regaining your attention. Taehyung pressed slow kisses into the sensitive skin, humming contentedly when you tilted your head to give him better access. His hands dragged up and down your stockinged legs, his exploration only pausing to playfully snap the garter at your thigh. Your breath caught in your throat, heat thrumming through your veins at the action. You felt him smirk, and then he was tactfully lifting your legs by the knees and hooking them around his own one by one. Easily spreading  your thighs by widening his own.

Easily revealing to your unsuspecting employers that your lingerie was crotchless.

The sudden display of your pussy had an immediate effect on the room, though no one said a word. The air was so charged with crackling energy that you shivered, almost breaking out in goosebumps at the onslaught of blatant desire. This close, it was quite easy for you to hear how Tae’s breath hitched, quite easy to interpret the excitement of his fingers, still compulsively tracing over the pattern of your stockings like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Inexplicably, you still found yourself feeling a bit shy at the salacious attention you intentionally brought upon yourself, gaze darting to the floor for a few seconds before you finally chanced a look at the other two from beneath your lashes. Seokjin was busy unabashedly staring at your spread pussy, Adam’s apple bobbing, but Namjoon was unabashedly staring at you, your heart pounding when you locked eyes.

The spell was only broken when an impatient hand guided your head to the side, Taehyung demanding your full attention. After lapping against your pulse one last time, his mouth promptly switched course to your own,  the kiss sweet, but decidedly sloppy due to the angle. In any case, it was easy to quickly lose yourself in the warmth of his lips—at this point, it was all practically reflex—and you were so engrossed in the ebb of his tongue that you completely missed the rather foreboding buzzing in the room until something was being purposefully pressed against the most sensitive part of you.

“Shit,” you gasped, jerking in his hold. But it didn’t matter, because Tae’s other hand was gripping tight at your thigh, ensuring you could do nothing but squirm in his lap, breath quickening in anticipation. 

“Hm?” came his casual response. You knew from experience that he only had your vibrator on the first or second level, but the way his restless fingers still plucked at your stockings told you he was nowhere near done with you. Let’s play you had teased, and he clearly intended to do just that. 

Before your thoughts could linger too long on how intense this night was likely going to be, the vibrator was shifted slightly to the side, resting momentarily on your thigh so Taehyung could reach for the bottle of lube and give it a generous squeeze. 

“What’s your plan?” you breathed, the question inane even to your own ears. But the words escaped you before you could even properly process them, needing to say something in an effort to distract yourself from the muted vibrations that were still trickling up your leg to your core. 

Tae let out an amused exhale, clearly not fooled by your feigned nonchalance. He humored you anyway, despite your very obvious failings to suppress a shiver. “Gotta prep you,” he answered huskily, busy warming the lube with his fingers and making them visibly slick in the process.

You only had one moment—two—before you felt him sliding a finger across the seam of you. Slowly dragging the digit up from your entrance to your clit, ghosting over the bundle of nerves just enough to make your breath catch, then drifting his way back down again.

“Don’t tease,” you murmured. 

That earned you a chuckle in response. “Don’t you think you’re the one being the tease here? Texting out of the blue and wearing this—”another snap of your garter against your thigh, to punctuate his point—“when you knew damn well it would drive me crazy?”

“I don’t know. Sounds like I was being pretty direct to me.”

Another chuckle. “Fair.” And without further preamble, he slipped a finger in you, your relief leaving you in a shuddery exhale. “That better?”

“M-Much.”

“How about this?”

Another finger, plunging into your willing heat and making another relieved sigh escape you at the stretch. “We’re getting there.”

You didn’t have to be able to see him to know he was grinning, always one to be entertained by the easy banter between you. Tae didn't say anything, his response better communicated by a scrape of his teeth across the sensitive skin of your neck, settling to suck on your pulse point. 

You didn’t bother hiding your shiver this time, unconsciously slumping further against him, hips reflexively jerking forward to pull him in deeper.

Taehyung added a third finger, snapping and scissoring and pressing and curling. Seducing your body’s natural resistance until you really started to betray your need, hips canting greedily towards his thrusts, whines erupting from your throat.

“You’re enjoying this already, baby?” Tae cooed, delighted by how responsive you were being. “I’ve barely done anything.”

You just nodded distractedly, the familiar warmth that was building in your core and creeping down your legs making it hard to think about anything else. Still, you couldn’t help your gaze being drawn to the other occupants of the room, who seemed to be frozen in time, dutifully having not moved from their posts. Completely enraptured by the way their brother meticulously worked you open.

Tae breathed hot into the shell of your ear. “You like it when they watch you?” came his knowing whisper, a nip against the cartilage punctuating his point. “Like for them to see how good I make you feel? Hmmm? What if we show them how good you take this dick?”

Your pussy fluttered. Tae cussed under his breath, teased with the wet, pulsing grip of you and falling deeper into his own fantasy. “Fuckkk, you’re dripping all over my hand, baby. I would probably just slide right in, wouldn’t I?”

“Yesss,” you moaned. “I can take it, baby.”

“I know you can. With this perfect fucking pussy. But what if we played some more? Got you nice and juicy for me?”

“I’m always juicy,” you sassed back, but any more retorts died on your tongue when you saw him reach again for the momentarily forgotten vibrator. 

Tae’s arms circled around you, his chin slotting into the crook of your neck so he could get a better look of what he intended to do. The vibrator was turned up from its low rumble and pressed unceremoniously against you, and you yelped, jolting in his hold. It was too much, and you couldn’t help but writhe against him. Still, you welcomed the sudden intensity, desperate whines freely escaping you as you hurtled toward your peak. Tae only fingered you faster in response, the undoubtedly sloppy sounds drowned out by the vibrator. “I could slide right in, but I won’t cause it’s much more fun this way. Especially since we haven’t seen each other in a while. More fun for everybody if take our time, right, baby? So how about you cum on my fingers first, and then you can pick everywhere else on me you’d like to cum?”

You could only moan freely, just like how Tae liked. If you weren’t so distracted by the way he was fucking stars behind your eyelids, you would have noticed just how affected your spectators were becoming at your display. The shifting, the subtle rubbing over pants.

But as it were, you were completely preoccupied by your swift descent into madness, your hand desperately scrabbling for purchase before ultimately rooting itself in the hair at Taehyung’s nape to await your rapidly approaching release. Because at this point, your orgasm was inevitable, your thighs quivering with the sheer force of it, every atom of you hyper-focused on achieving that satisfying end goal. 

Until the sudden sound of a certain voice knocked you out of your trance. 

“Stop.”

You jolted as if touching a live wire, hand immediately wrapping around Taehyung’s wrist like a vice and yanking the vibrator away from you. 

For a few moments, the room was silent, save the rumble of the toy and your heavy breathing. But Taehyung was too baffled to let what just happened slide. “What’s the matter?”  

You nervously licked your lips, too frozen in Namjoon’s dark stare to answer his younger brother.

“You know better,” came the blond’s low admonishment, Seokjin turning to look at him in bewilderment. 

And you did know better—when you were with Namjoon, you were not allowed to cum without his express permission. It was a game the two of you played that you often lost, despite your valiant efforts. It just never occurred to you that you would still be expected to play in Namjoon’s general presence, whether he was the one touching you or not. 

Jittery with your aborted orgasm and nervous excitement, you looked away, your eyes automatically averted submissively to the floor in a last effort to assuage him. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you replied softly.

“Daddy?” Taehyung repeated incredulously. “What the fuck?” In his confusion, his hold on you slackened, and, nervous he wouldn’t take the hint otherwise, you used the opportunity to shift his fingers out of you and stumble forward on wobbly legs.

“Take your clothes off,” was your reply, breath labored and skin already veiled in a light sheen of sweat. You needed to distract him from asking too many questions right now. Needed to distract yourself from just how strongly your body was begging to fall apart.

Tae was still confused, but he didn’t need to be told twice. Off came his button-down shirt, each button popped open just roughly enough that you were surprised none of them ended up scattered across the floor in his haste. Off came his slacks, unzipped and then easily slipped down his slim hips. He paused when reaching for his underwear though, eyes narrowing at something behind you.

You didn’t even get the chance to turn around to investigate what had caught his attention before you felt it—the distinct feeling of someone hovering in your space, close enough you could feel his body heat radiating against you.  

“Hey sweetheart,” came a familiar husky voice, goosebumps rippling across your body at the feel of Seokjin’s hot breath ghosting up your neck. “Can I touch you?”

“Hey,” Tae scowled.

“_____?” Jin interrupted, still only millimeters away. A whisper away, but never touching, waiting for the only permission he truly needed—yours. Not Taehyung’s.  

Without a second thought, you leaned back against him, delighting in the feel of his body slotting so naturally into yours. “Yes,” you breathed, pressing your ass further into what could only be the hard jut of his cock.  

Soft, plush lips trailed up your neck instantly, large hands sliding over your hips and around your waist. You immediately melted into him, your body well-trained and eager for the pleasure it knew those lips and hands would deliver. 

“This wasn’t the deal,” Tae huffed, eyebrows scrunched in irritation as he finally slid off his boxer briefs. Drawn like a magnet, your eyes fell to the bounce of his freed cock, tip already shiny with precum.

Seokjin tutted distractedly, too busy nibbling along your jaw to give his youngest brother much attention. “You need to learn to share, Taehyung. The rest of society learned that concept when we were toddlers.”

“Whatever,” Tae grumbled, clearly not happy with the way the night was turning out. He only allowed his brother a few more seconds to have his way with you before he was reaching for your hands and walking you back towards the bed.  

You gasped in surprise when the world was suddenly off-kilter, your hands reflexively scrambling to hold onto Tae for balance, but it was only when the two of you landed on the mattress that you realized he had purposely tipped you into him, your chests flush. 

“Really, Taehyung?” you laughed, now conveniently in his embrace instead of Seokjin’s. 

Tae just grinned in response, so close that his nose brushed yours. Cheekily, his hands worked the flesh of your behind.

“I’ve been wondering where those have been coming from,” you heard Seokjin say behind you, and your face heated up in realization of what he was talking about, once again shy to be so on display and open for scrutiny. You had forgotten how mottled the skin of your ass still looked, and it was a little embarrassing to be called out on it. Time apart meant the bruises were near the end of their healing stage, but though you no longer sported marks of potentially alarming colors, their faded remnants still branded you in the distinct shape of a hand. 

“If you were wondering, why didn’t you ask,” you countered, tucking your face in Tae’s neck to help hide your flustered state. 

“Because that’s rude,” Jin answered easily, his own hand reaching over to gently smooth over the discolored skin. “And it’s really none of my business.”

“I think they’re pretty,” Taehyung cut in from below you. This close, you could feel the rumble of his declaration, could feel the heat of his stare. Of his want.

“So do I.”

A different voice, one that made an undeniably eager shiver run through you. Slowly, you lifted your head and turned, and there was Namjoon, still standing across from the bed, eyes all pupil.

The way he was looking at you…desire rippled through your whole body in response, your next words leaving your lips before you could even process them. 

“Are you going to touch me too, Daddy?”

The room was quiet, the question marinating long enough that the air became thick and heavy with the resulting tension. Just when you thought you might suffocate, Namjoon finally tilted his head. Slowly—a predator locked in on prey, playing with his meal simply for his own amusement—he stalked closer to the bed. He walked past Seokjin and made it all the way to the foot of the mattress, close enough to touch you if he so pleased.

The burn of his gaze was somehow stronger now that he was closer, a palpable energy that drew you like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t help but scramble upright when he was finally right in front of you, clambering to your knees despite Tae’s clear reluctance to let you go.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon asked passively. He looked down at you, seemingly unimpressed by how eagerly you knelt on the mattress, just waiting for him to join you on it. “You already have enough people taking care of you. Are you really that greedy?”

“Yes,” you shivered, the action involuntary but wanting. “Want you too, Daddy.”

“Hm.” The single syllable was dismissive, but your previous time spent with Namjoon had taught you not to take that at face value. That you had to have patience, that if you simply waited him out, you would always eventually get what you wanted.

As if proving your point, Namjoon silently considered you for a few more seconds before his eyebrow finally raised in challenge. “Open,” he demanded. 

Your jaw dropped instantly, tongue out, and he smiled, pleased at your obedient response.  

You weren’t sure you had the energy to be bratty to him today when his brothers were still in the mix too. 

“Good,” Namjoon cooed, all dimples and boy next door. The boy next door who firmly grasped your chin, lifting your head a little and leaning down. But though your eyelashes fluttered in preparation for the slot of his mouth against yours, it never came. Namjoon paused, slanted eyes quietly observing you, then spit in your open mouth instead.

“Jesus,” came Taehyung’s awed reply from behind you, but you were too busy trying not to whimper, thighs squeezing together with sudden want. Namjoon hadn’t told you you could swallow, so you didn’t, drool starting to collect until it overflowed and dribbled down your jaw. 

“Very good,” Namjoon murmured, and this time, he did lean down to kiss you, all wet and sloppy. You eagerly pushed further into his space, blood thrumming with your need for more, but he pulled away before you could get too carried away. He cleared his throat, lips pink and spit-slicked. “Gonna keep being a good girl for us today?”

You immediately nodded, a thrill going through you at the way the action rapidly made his expression steel over. He tsked condescendingly. “Now, now, you know better than to not speak when spoken to.”

“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise I’ll be good.”

“Well, that definitely answers the mystery bruises.” It was Seokjin, now behind you. Somehow you hadn’t noticed him discard his shirt and climb onto the bed, too caught in Namjoon’s spell. You felt his hands drifting across your waist again, roaming up to cup your breasts and lightly pinch at your nipples through the lace. You whimpered, arching eagerly into his touch.

“Oh come on,” Taehyung whined. A turn of your head produced him, naked and sulking in the middle of the bed. “It was supposed to be my turn.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his cute pout, dutifully extracting yourself from Jin’s hold to crawl your way towards the youngest brother. “Don’t worry, baby. I know how to multitask.”

He greedily grabbed you as soon as you were in reach, holding you tight to his chest and plopping back onto the bed so you were once again on top of him, knees straddling his hips. You giggled again at his antics, flattered by his sudden possessiveness, and Tae playfully nipped at your collarbone in retaliation. 

The bed dipped behind you, and then there was Seokjin again, undeterred by Tae’s petulant behavior. “Not only are you bad at sharing, but you’re only thinking about yourself,” he scoffed, grabbing your hips without preamble. “What about _____?”

Taehyung immediately bristled beneath you. 

“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure, but before you could properly defend him, you suddenly found yourself face down and ass up, the sudden appearance of a tongue swiping through your slit rendering you shuddery and brain dead. “Fuck. Jin—”

You felt Seokjin’s smirk against you. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said huskily, hot breath ghosting over your most private of parts. “Couldn’t help myself. You dressed my meal up so pretty.”

That was fair, you supposed. That he made proper use of the easy access your lingerie provided, that he gave himself the opportunity to admire the tiny lacy hearts on your garter belt up close. But Seokjin didn’t allow himself to preen for very long, his focus immediately turning back to the task at hand. Laving hot and slow, your whole body tingling down to your toes.

Unconsciously, you pushed back further into his face, and Jin hummed approvingly, massaging your asscheeks, large hands spreading them apart so he could get as close to you as humanly possible. His enthusiasm has always been so fucking sexy, and you knew he wasn’t playing it up for theatrics when the slurping sounds started. You were that turned on, still frustrated from being led to the edge of the proverbial cliff and not allowed to jump, and Seokjin was more than happy to help himself to the honey he was coaxing from between your thighs. 

A haze was starting to take over you, completely focused on how good he was eating you out, on how hot you were, sweat and desire prickling your skin. Your hips mindlessly circling while you vaguely tried not to drool on Taehyung’s chest. 

Not that Tae seemed to mind much, hands idly roaming whatever stretch of skin he could touch, content to watch how your expression twisted and eyes glazed over as lust easily towed you under.

Seokjin pulled back a bit, chuckling at your whines of protest when he did so. But the familiar click of a top being popped open shut you up, lifting your head and looking over your shoulder to confirm your suspicions. The lube was a bit cold when it hit your asshole, and Jin wasn’t shy with the amount he squeezed out. His eyes were completely blown, enraptured by its slow decent, watching the lube trail through your pubic hair and down your slit. A distracted tongue swept across his lips, completely focused on sliding his fingers through the slick and making everything somehow even more wet. 

You shivered at his touch, thighs twitching as his long fingers smoothed the lube over your bundle of nerves in sure, purposeful circles. He leaned in again, tongue blazing a hot, meandering trail up the inside of your thigh and giving the sensitive skin there a playful nip before his fervent licks returned. Tongue slipping down to caress your clit, wandering back up to dip into your throbbing cunt, and dragging back down again. 

It was on one of these passes that Seokjin accidentally drifted a bit too high, your undulating hips causing him to lap over your asshole instead. You moaned, loud, and he immediately froze. 

It was clear neither of you had been expecting that reaction. But while you could only describe the look on his face as light surprise, you couldn’t help but duck your head in embarrassment.

“What’s the matter?” Taehyung breathed into your hair, wondering what halted the activities.

You weren’t really sure what to say, now embarrassed by your embarrassment. But it turned out you didn’t have to say anything, Seokjin curiously testing the waters by leaning in and placing a chaste kiss against your rim. When you didn’t do anything but suck in a breath, his tongue dipped out again for a tentative lick. You shuddered, ass reflexively bucking towards him instead of pulling away, and that was all the confirmation he needed. His hands palmed your asscheeks again, spreading them open to give himself more room to press his tongue against you more confidently, and you trembled in response.

It was a foreign sensation, but not bad. You technically hadn’t marked this as a no when signing your contract, but it never even crossed your mind that getting your booty ate would be a very real possibility. You weren’t against assplay per se—you simply had never experienced it before. And never in a million years would you have expected it to feel like this. 

“Mmmm, that’s good,” you couldn’t help but whimper. Electricity licked up your spine when his sloppy tongue slowly circled around the tight ring of muscle. Unbidden, your hand reached back, gliding through his hair before rooting itself and pulling in an attempt to get him impossibly closer to you. 

Seokjin hummed approvingly at the your enthusiasm, the sound almost sounding like he was blowing bubbles with the way you were now shoving his face between your asscheeks. Leaning somehow further into it, he ate you out with a vigor that told you he was clearly pleased you were using him to get yourself off. You melted into his ministrations, a whine falling from your lips when he gently slipped his sinful tongue inside you, the foreign feeling making your toes curl in unexpected pleasure. 

You were getting worked up. With nothing more than his mouth, Seokjin was easily restoking the blazing fire within you that only minutes before had been forced to embers. You were getting worked up, and the more you moaned and gyrated against him, the more Taehyung’s fingers twitched restlessly against your skin. If you had been in your right mind, you would have noticed his rising agitation and wouldn’t have been surprised when he suddenly grabbed you by the backs of your thighs and pulled you away from his brother. Instead, you blinked at him dazedly, pelvises flush after momentum had you inadvertently scooting further up his body.  

“I’ve shared enough,” he growled, irritated. “It’s my turn now.” Another pull, and you were back on his lap, his leaking erection grinding pointedly against your slick folds. “C’mere, baby—fucking sit it on it.” 

You were dazed, already pretty fucked out even though things were just getting started. The constant influx of pleasure was striking all your coherent thought, unable to understand anything other than finally being able to cross the finish line. And you knew from experience that Taehyung’s massive dick was a great way to get there, so you didn’t mind at all when he continued to maneuver you as he pleased, large hands canting your hips at a proper angle to receive him. 

Your breath hitched when he finally sunk into your fervid body. You were so turned on and wet at that point that it didn’t hurt the slightest, but he was so big that the very pressure of him forcing your walls apart caused your eyes to roll back in your head, your nails pressing crescent moons into the caramel of his skin. “Ungh—”    

“Shit,” Tae groaned, fingers tightening on your thighs at the wet grip of you. “Feel so fucking good, baby. Always so fucking good.”

He was buried balls deep, too on edge to give you any more than a few seconds to adjust before he was bucking wildly into you, easily scraping against your spongy nerves with every unforgiving stroke. You couldn’t do much more than take it, unfiltered moans readily escaping you. Hot and low, like they were generated deep in your pussy and Taehyung was hard at work fucking them up and out of your mouth.

You were so worked up at this point that you knew you weren’t going to last much longer, your walls tightening more and more by the second, your whole body trembling in preparation of the inevitable.

 “_____,” Namjoon snapped.

It took some effort to lift your head from where you had buried it in Tae’s neck, startled into blearily looking up to meet the middle brother’s steely gaze. Your mind raced, flustered and trying to understand how you had somehow forgotten about him. When his lips curled with a whisper of a smirk, it instantly dawned on you that him fading into the background had been entirely by design.

Namjoon had allowed you to be distracted by his brothers. Had allowed them to have all the fun while he quietly watched your slow, uncontrollable descent into carnality. Because he knew that all he had to do was wait, and you would inevitably disobey him.

And then his fun would start.

You had played your part in his little game, cockily swaggered your way right into his trap with thigh highs and a smile. Too naive to notice that the situation had been rigged from the start, and now that everything was in motion, it was far too late to save yourself from your oncoming reckoning. 

You were gasping, the pistoning of Taehyung’s cock setting all of your nerves alight and making it hard not to meet him thrust for thrust, trapped in meeting Namjoon’s stare through your wet lashes. He had moved to stand at the foot of the bed, close enough to touch, and he was the only person in the room who was still, bafflingly, fully-dressed.

“Please,” you babbled, too far gone to even know who your begging was directed towards. “Please, I—” Your body spazzed violently, only contained by Tae’s bruising grip as he relentlessly continued to plow into you. “Ohhh godddd! Fuckkk—ah, ahhhh—”

Against your best efforts, your cunt locked down, hard. So hard you forgot to breathe, pleasure and relief finally flooding your veins as you stuffed your face into Tae’s neck to ride it out, bucking and whining and incoherent.

Taehyung made a loud, choked noise, the feeling of you pulsing around him throwing him further into his trance. “Fuck yeah,” he growled, fingers digging into your thighs punishingly. Drilling into you harder, your release heightening his desperation for his own. Biology making him single-minded, manic, even when you started to mewl in oversensitivity. “Squeezing me so tight. Cream me good, baby. Fuck.” 

You continued to tremble, nothing more at this point than sparking nerve endings. Tae lifted his head a little to lick into your awaiting mouth, kissing you wet and wild and desperate while still plunging deep inside you.  

But even though you did nothing to attempt to control the torrent of whines freely spilling from your tongue, in the back of your mind, you still had the good sense to be nervous. Because even without seeing his face, you already knew Namjoon was pissed. 

You had failed.

As if confirming your thoughts, fingers wrapped around your hair and pulled, naturally ripping your lips from Taehyung’s and forcing your head to lift. With nowhere to hide, you were forced to meet the full intensity of Namjoon’s glare. 

“What did I say,” he demanded darkly, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Your blood pounded excitedly.

“Cut her some slack, Namjoon,” came Jin’s mild reply from behind you. Your eyes widened, not expecting his dismissive tone to go over very well. 

Namjoon didn’t acknowledge his older brother, instead focusing his attention on his younger. A carefully controlled tempest that was moments away from unleashing its wrath. “Taehyung. Move.”

The swivel of Tae’s hips slowed, but didn’t stop. He was too on edge, too close to joining you in bliss. “I—g-give me a minute, hyung—”

“Move.” 

You could feel just how reluctant Tae was to comply—his rutting finally stopped, but his hips still instinctually twitching in a primal need to keep fucking you. Still, something in his brother’s tone made his protest cut off in his throat, and after a few labored, frustrated breaths, he obediently slipped out of you. 

You whimpered at the loss, your toes curling at the resulting friction. Between the cum that had long been leaking from you and dribbling down your thighs and the mess Tae’s cock was making in his excitement, it was hot and sticky where your bodies slotted together, and you couldn’t help the way you senselessly started to grind against him, lashes fluttering at the feeling.  

Namjoon scoffed at your clear desperation. “You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?” he snapped, grip still firm in your hair. “For him to cum inside you.”

You shivered at the thought, a little embarrassed that you were so obvious. “Yes, Daddy,” you murmured, releasing a shuttering breath when you felt Tae’s slick cock jump against your stomach at your admission.

“Well you’ve been bad,” Namjoon replied slowly, as you weren’t very bright, “so you don’t get to have what you want.” He took a step forward, legs knocking into the edge of the bed, now only a breath away, and you licked your lips, mentally preparing for what you knew would come.

But before he could get any closer to you—before Taehyung could even slide from beneath you—there were once again hands on your hips.

“Hey!” Tae snapped irritably, but whatever he had to say was drowned out by your surprised, rather pathetic choking when, with a delicious roll of his hips, Seokjin unexpectedly sank inside your pliant body, thoroughly making himself at home exactly where Tae had been forced to vacate. You had been so focused on Namjoon that you somehow missed the weight shifting behind you, the telltale rustling of clothing as he pushed is sweatpants down his hips enough to free his cock so he could stuff you the hilt. 

You had been saved by the eldest Kim, at least for now. But for how long would he really be able to delay your punishment?

Since he was still holding you by the hair, you could easily see the emotions flicker across Namjoon’s face at his older brother butting in, but his expression quickly settled into something mirroring cool indifference.

You knew better. Namjoon was a patient man, but you doubted he would let your disobedience slide so easily. 

Seemingly uncaring of either of his brothers’ vexation, Seokjin rode your ass, hips rolling forward in constant waves, strokes long and deep and pointed. Clearly wanting to keep you mewling for him. 

And as you did just that, you rapidly realized that saving you from Namjoon’s wrath had never been his intention. No, he simply liked you just like this, whiny and shivery and too fucked out to care that you were drooling and desperate. 

“You feel it, sweetheart?” he asked, voice melodic and sweet. Leaning over to press plump lips up your spine and sucking on a rather sensitive spot at the back of your neck. 

“Yesss,” you whined. You could feel everything, could feel the ripple of your ass every time his hips slammed against it, could feel every ridge of his cock that scraped against your insides. Sparks shot through you after every stroke, your clit forced to drag across Tae’s stomach with the force. “Fuck, you’re so big and deep, fuck, fuck.”

Seokjin just hummed, playing your body like a fiddle and pleased by how it was responding to him. Breath stuttering, toes curling, fingers gripping the sheets.

But despite how good he was making you feel, you weren’t too fucked out to overlook Namjoon this time. No, this time forgetting him was impossible, the middle brother doing nothing to hide his massive presence. He towered over you, intently watching you get railed by his older brother, and the barely suppressed fury you could sense radiating off him was making your cunt throb and head spin. 

“I’m sorry, D-Daddy,” you stuttered, everything tingling at the look he fixed you with in response. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Are you?” he asked lowly, a tic in his jaw. He let the question marinate for a few moments, let you simmer beneath his intense stare. Just when you felt the overwhelming compulsion to apologize again, he finally reached for you, a single finger lifting your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze directly. With a patronizing tilt of his head, he popped open the button on his pants. “Then make it up to me.”

You were already pushing yourself to your hands and knees, desperate to please. Taehyung’s hands drifted up your sides to steady you, your body trembling from the way Seokjin still reamed into you, undeterred. You reached out for the band of Namjoon’s pants, trying to get to the important bits, but he simply tutted and smacked your hand away.

“Mouth,” he said simply, the single word full of derision.

So you leaned forward again, this time using the tip of your nose to part his fly and give you proper access to his clothed cock. He was thick and swollen already, straining against the material, and you felt him stir with interest when you mouthed at him through the fabric. Coquettish licks lapping hot against the length of him and making his hips reflexively shift forward, unconsciously chasing the stimulation. You licked and sucked until there was a noticeable wet patch, doing your best to show that your apology was sincere and give him your full attention. 

But that was hard to do when his brothers were busy giving you their full attention.

Seokjin was in a trance, fingers sinking into your thighs so he could properly hammer into you. Thrusts steady and coaxing your pussy to leak its praises, your thighs sticky with your essence. 

Taehyung, on the other hand, was getting noticeably antsy beneath you, fingers increasingly twitching against your damp skin the longer his brothers got more of your attention. You looked down, and the furrow of his brow and downturn of his lips were your last clues to his growing jealousy before he took action, hand reaching up to drag through the mess you were making before his thumb sought your clit, rolling and pinching. You bucked and squealed, the extra stimulation rocking you to your core and making your walls pulse dangerously enough that you found yourself squirming to escape him, grabbing Tae’s wrist for the second time that night in an act of self-preservation.

He was undeterred, rerouting his focus to your chest instead. With impatient hands, he yanked on the cups of your bodysuit, a concerning ripping noise immediately filling the room at the action. Before you could even say anything, he was already lifting his head to eagerly bite and suckle on your newly freed tits, tongue curling around a pebbled nipple and mumbling “I’ll buy you another one.”

Switching from one erogenous zone to another did nothing to quell your desire, but at least the stimulation wasn’t as intense. This you could safely enjoy, lashes fluttering, chest inadvertently pushing further into his face in silent encouragement.

And encourage you did, Taehyung creating enough suction with his mouth to properly burst capillaries. Contentedly littering your skin with marks you allowed, comfortable in knowing this was a region easily covered by your clothes. 

Determined not to lose focus, you leaned forward again to continue giving Namjoon your full attention, trying to strategize the best way to get at him without using your hands. But either Namjoon finally decided to take pity on you or he was getting impatient too, because it was his own hands that reached down, only bothering to disturb his waistband enough to free his already leaking cock.

You didn’t know if it was a conditioned response from your past escapades or simply the extremely sexy sight of him giving himself a few firm, confident pumps. Either way, you felt it when you started to salivate, aching to properly taste him.

Your enthusiasm must have shown on your face, because the blond man simply smirked down at you knowingly, thumb slowly running over a prominent vein and further smearing his own mess around. “Well?” he prompted, almost sounding bored. You knew he wasn’t. That he was rock hard and dribbling precum, that his eyes were hooded yet laser-focused on the way his brothers devoured you—those were clues enough. Still, you couldn’t help the fire his feigned disinterest lit low in your belly, desperate to please him.      

You started low, turning your head so you could playfully tongue first at his balls before making the long trek up the massive length of him, taking care not to accidentally involve your teeth from the way Seokjin’s thrusts were rocking you forward. Finally, you took him in your mouth, suckling on the weeping head. Humming contentedly at the salty taste and meeting his blown eyes from beneath your lashes.

Namjoon’s lips parted, but he didn’t say anything, hips twitching forward when you pressed your tongue into his slit.

You didn’t notice at first. To be fair, you were plenty preoccupied with everything else going on, with all other sensations. So you didn’t notice Taehyung’s hand drifting over your hip until he was cupping one of your asscheeks, fingers teasing further inward. 

Before you could say anything, a finger sunk itself into your cunt, right next to where Jin was still plowing into you. You groaned, eyes rolling back at the added stretch, but the oldest brother wasn’t as pleased by the intrusion.    

“Taehyung,” he said gruffly, voice deep with irritation and thinly-veiled hunger. But Tae just pumped the long digit into you a few times and then slowly backtracked, lightly trailing the slick back up the cleft of your ass.

“Relax,” came Tae’s mellow reply, and when he started circling a questioning finger around your rim, you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or Seokjin. 

Still, you shivered, breath stuttering when you realized where this was going. When the finger did nothing more than circle and lightly press against you, you released Namjoon’s cockhead from between your lips, eyes fluttering. “Yes,” you breathed hot against Namjoon’s crotch, understanding what Tae was wordlessly asking you. 

A glance down produced Taehyung, eyes all pupil, tongue lolling thoughtfully in his mouth as he watched you tremble above him, tits rippling and swaying from Seokjin’s force. Finger mindlessly continuing the massaging of your hole. He locked eyes with you, making sure he understood, and then slowly started pressing the slick digit into your asshole.

You whimpered, fighting against your instinct to clamp down on him. Relax. Relax. It didn’t hurt exactly—was just pressure where you weren’t used to having any. And Tae made sure to go at a glacial pace, made sure to keep massaging your insides, to help you acclimate to the intrusion. 

Distantly, you felt Jin’s thrusts slow to something much more languid, and you had a feeling the way your body was opening up for his youngest brother was more than a little distracting.

“Good?” Tae asked shakily, sinking into you bit by bit. 

“Yes,” you slurred, completely fucked out. Tae’s always had large hands with long, elegant fingers, and right now, when he kept going further and further in, you were becoming privy to just how long they actually were. Your eyes threatened to roll back when his last knuckle finally breached you, and when he gave you a cursory tap after a few seconds, you had to swallow a moan. 

Rather affectionately, Namjoon started caressing your face, bringing your attention back to him. Dazed, you put him back in your mouth, continuing to suck him and trying not to think about how Seokjin was revving his pace back up and Taehyung was tapping your insides in tandem. Namjoon just smiled softly down at you, and it was so sweet that you almost don’t see what happened next coming, too preoccupied with everything else that was going on. Gently, his hand drifted up—and gripped you securely by the hair, cock suddenly surging down your throat. You immediately gagged, throat repeatedly convulsing around him, and he grunted appreciatively at the feeling before pulling all the way out. Cheeks still sweetly dimpling at how wrecked you were.

And wrecked was the only way to describe you. You were gasping, jaw glistening with spit. Eyes watering and whole body twitching from all the relentless stimulation.

Namjoon only gave you a few seconds to gain your bearings before a pull of your hair had your head snapping back. Before his cock was pushing back into your panting mouth. You tried your best to relax your throat this time, taking stuttered breaths from your nose when his fucking began in earnest. Tried your best to ignore the way your jaw threatened to lock from trying to accommodate the sheer girth of him.

It was a lot. You were feeling sensations from so many areas at once—ass, tits, mouth, cunt—that your brain was absolutely swirling trying to figure out which brother’s ministrations it should be focusing on. And though the pleasure pumping through you was borderline unbearable, you couldn’t even let that overflow of emotion out, your wails stuck bubbling in your chest because you were too busy lewdly gargling on Namjoon’s cock.

You remembered, all those months ago when you’d first been considering whether you should take this job, how you'd poured yourself another glass of wine and reread the contact for the nth time thinking well, I guess I do have three holes. That’s certainly convenient. 

Now that it was happening, however—now that all three of your holes were stuffed and both your mouth and your pussy were dribbling and messy and straining with effort—now, it was nothing short of intense. Nothing hurt, but you were so completely and entirely overwhelmed by all of the feeling that you thought you might just simply burst, your nerve endings crackling free and raining over the room like fireworks.  

It’s too much. It was too much, but right when you were starting to consider giving Namjoon two taps on the wrist—a metaphorical yellow—he backed off on his own, easing some of the pressure. And suddenly your mouth was free, a string of saliva still connecting you to his glistening cock before the tension of him stepping back eventually made it snap.  

Namjoon had eased some of the pressure, but he couldn’t stop more from surging forward in its place. Your body could only take so much of their tortuous teasing before it succumbed to its baser instincts, and it seemed you had finally reached your boiling point. In a trance, you pressed your hips backwards to meet Seokjin’s next stroke, forcing him deeper inside you and making you both shudder. And that small action was all the encouragement he needed, his primal instincts screaming at him to ruin you.

Drilling into you with new purpose, Jin fucked the remaining breath out of your lungs, staccatoed bursts of ah ah ah pouring from your drooling mouth. Panting like an animal in heat, moaning so wantonly that you would be embarrassed if you weren’t already so completely braindead with pleasure. 

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathed, watching your rapid unraveling in amazement. “You’re so fucking hot. Fuck.”

Before even realizing what was happening, you finally shattered around him, your bones liquifying at the intensity and causing you to collapse on Tae, writhing and choking into his neck.

“There you go,” Jin encouraged, words wobbling as he tried to weather the force of how tightly your walls were squeezing him.

Taehyung was curling his finger within you to lengthen your orgasm, was absently rubbing your back to guide you through it. “So perfect,” he whispered, lips fondly brushing against your temple while you shook.

When it finally ended you were left twitching and sensitive, too dizzy from the sheer force of your climax to register the thunder rolling across Namjoon’s face.

His brothers did, though.

An audible squelch filled the room when, without warning, Seokjin pulled completely out of you. Confused, you looked over your shoulder at him, only to suddenly find yourself lifted and tilted, Taehyung surging upright and taking you with him. Unprepared to catch yourself, your back easily hit the mattress, now finding yourself looking up at the three brothers who hovered over you.   

“Hmmm.” Namjoon pretended to think, tone calm but eyes steely. “I could have sworn I specifically told you not to do that.”

“You did,” Jin cut in mildly, looking between the two of you curiously.

Your eyes widened, unprepared for this turn of events. You never would have pegged Jin as such an instigator, but apparently he was very interested in seeing the consequences of your continued disobedience.

Your betrayal must have shown on your face, because Seokjin’s lips pursed in amusement. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckled, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your lips. “You’ve been so good for me, but we have to be fair. And unlike Taehyung, I know how to share.”

“Am I or am I not sharing right now?” Tae griped, unamused by the dig. But you were no longer paying those two any attention, your focus now fully on Namjoon and the leisurely way he was now stripping out of his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you hedged, knowing before you even said the words that they would do jack shit to appease him. “It just felt too good…”

Namjoon raised an unimpressed eyebrow, throwing his t-shirt on the floor as if it offended him. “All you keep saying is sorry,” he mused. Down went his pants and underwear, kicked out of his way. His knee hit the mattress, Taehyung shifting to the side so Namjoon could finally stalk over to where you lay, fucked open and wet. Cautiously, you met his stare, the breath halting in your lungs when you recognized the retribution that was undoubtedly about to come. 

“But sorry means nothing if you don’t modify your behavior,” he tsked, eyes darkening. “So. I don’t believe you.”

That was all the warning you got before he was crowding into your space, grabbing you by the ankles and hooking them over his shoulders. Caging you in with his body, pressing close enough that his cock easily slid over the mess of your cunt, making you mewl at the sensation.

And that involuntary reaction didn’t seem to help your case with Namjoon. “More?” he scoffed, seemingly displeased, though the way he rocked his length through the seam of you told a different story. “After all that, you still want more?”

You were exhausted, thighs still quivering from your last orgasm. But you couldn’t help the way the weight of his body and the slide of his cock were causing your pussy to pulse. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathed, angling your hips down so you could deliciously meet him on his upstroke.

“And it’s all about what you want, isn’t it?” he mocked, spearing you to the hilt in one go. You choked at the intrusion, not expecting him to enter you so suddenly. At this point, you were fully prepped enough to take him, but, like his brothers, Namjoon was still a lot to take all at once.

Particularly when he had already made up his mind that the best way to punish you was with his cock.

You quickly gathered his gameplay from the immediate way he started rutting into you, not giving you any time to adjust or catch your breath. Simply railing you into the mattress, your legs over his shoulders ensuring he hit deep enough for you to feel it in your throat.

“Fuckkk,” you groaned, fingers curling in the sheets, biting down on your lip enough to taste metal. “Fuck fuck—”

“What?” he taunted, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Making sure he scraped your g-spot on every thrust. “This is what you wanted, remember? And it’s all about what you want.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You could already feel yourself ready to clamp down again, your extremely sensitive pussy overreactive to any and all stimulation. “I want it, I want it, yesss—”

He pressed impossibly closer, bending you enough that you felt the burning strain in your legs, and that did the trick. Before you could nervously start to ponder whether you were flexible enough for what he wanted to do, you were cumming, hard, back attempting to bow with the force of it but only succeeding in making your whole body lock up and your vision blur.

Namjoon didn’t slow down during your climax, and he certainly didn’t slow down after. He fucked you like a machine, undeterred by how your pulsing walls tried to suck him in and keep him there. Undeterred by how you hopelessly whined and squirmed in overstimulation. And when you suddenly heard a familiar buzzing noise, there was nothing you could do but meet his intense gaze with wide, alarmed eyes.

“What?” he demanded, pressing your long-forgotten wand vibrator right on your clit and making you immediately jerk. The caramel of his skin was already glistening and beading with sweat, but he seemed long from tired. “You think you can cum on everbody’s dick but mine?”

It was too much, the near animalistic pace of his fucking paired with how high he had turned the vibrator making your hands shoot up, scrabbling along his biceps in a panicked response, your body now entirely on autopilot, desperately trying to save itself from its fate. 

“Please,” you heard yourself beg, choking at the intensity. Legs jerking uselessly on his shoulders, nails scratching marks down his skin.

But the word that would make him stop never passed your lips. And so he continued to ignore your unsuccessful struggling, fucking you right back to orgasm, this time somehow even stronger than the last and stealing all air from your lungs.

He felt it, of course. Felt exactly how hard you were squeezing him, the tight grip of your pussy evoking the grit of his teeth. 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to milk me,” he growled, moving the vibrator away from you just enough for you to suck in a breath. “Come on, take this dick since you want it so bad. Take it!” 

And you had no choice but to take it, trying your best not to black out as he forced the coil within you to snap, again and again. You were shrieking, but you couldn’t even perceive your own actions anymore, swept completely by his unforgiving undertow of pain-lined pleasure. Namjoon was fucking you stupid, scrambling your brain as easily as if it were an egg, forcing you to your most primal of reactions, your most basest of self. Thrashing beneath him, desperate tears trickling down your cheeks, spit freely trickling from your wailing mouth.

It felt neverending, this exquisite torture, and just when you were starting to get distressed about how much longer you would be able to take it, Namjoon’s thrusts started to turn sloppy.

“This is all you wanted, right?” he panted, hips stuttering. A welcome warning for what was soon to come. His focus rapidly shifted from your orgasm to his own, and the way he tossed the still buzzing vibrator to the side was nothing short of impatient.

You blinked up blearily at him, the reduction in stimulation helping you slowly return to your body after being stuck the stratosphere. 

“Wanted my nut? Agreed to fuck all of us at once just so you could get more of it, isn’t that right, babygirl?”

His intense stare told you he expected an answer, but all you could do was whine in response, hesitant to admit it. Pussy pulsing at the very visual he had conjured up. Warily, you glanced at the other two brothers, nervous at what you might find there, but one look quickly evaporated all uncertainty.

Though they had moved out of the way for Namjoon, they hadn’t moved far—still close enough for you to reach out and touch, still close enough for them to hover over you and get a close view of the action. Still close enough for you to see understanding dawn across Seokjin’s face, to see pure astonishment take over Taehyung’s.

Namjoon spotted your division in attention and was having none of it, a hand guiding your jaw until you were focusing on him again. “You like being a dirty cumslut,” he prompted mildly, your heart racing in response. Slipping a thumb between your plush lips and humming approvingly when you sucked on it, tongue twirling. “Don’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned hoarsely, the very admission making your whole body vibrate. The continued hammering of your sensitive core making you want to reflexively squirm away, though Namjoon’s heavy body ensured you had nowhere to go.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I like being a dirty cumslut.”

Taehyung whimpered, and it was easy for you to deduce from the rapid movement you could see from the corner of your eye that he was jacking himself off while watching you. Well and truly done with delaying his own pleasure.

And from the rather manic way Namjoon was looking at you, he was obviously on the same wavelength. “And do you know how much cumsluts love it?” A quick swipe of his tongue over his panting lips. “They want it in them. On them.”

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, nearly sobbing at the strength your want. Your head whipping around, desperately pleading with all three of them. “Please let me have it! I’ve been so good, please—”

“Holy shit,” Tae groaned, eyes rolling back in his head. “Okay baby, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you it all. You want it all?”

“Yes. Yes, yes yes yes yesyesyes—”

Abruptly, Taehyung was pushing forward into your space, hovering more directly over you and treating you to the sight of how those long fingers were furiously pumping his cock. He was panting, a prominent vein in his neck visible because of his efforts, little whines escaping him as he viciously worked his slick length.

There was shifting on your other side, and your focus immediately turned to Seokjin. He looked back at you dazedly, lips parted, chest flushed at your attention.  

“Please?” you whimpered, fully aware how pathetic you must have looked but not giving a single shit. So long as you got what you wanted. You needed them to give you what you wanted.

The oldest immediately softened at your pleading, always so willing and eager to please you. “Of course,” he breathed, hand already moving over himself with long, tight strokes. He shivered, hips reflexively jumping forward at the stimulation. “W-Where?”

A shift, and Namjoon was pulling back from you, maneuvering your legs back to the bed and sitting back on his haunches. Despite this new position, he never let his cock leave the comfort of your walls, continuing to hammer into you, jaw locked in concentration, balls smacking into your ass with a lewd slapping sound. Focused only on racing to the finish line.

“Anywhere,” you shuddered. “Everywhere, just…” Your entire body was on fire and you could barely take it, the anticipation of what was about to happen making you writhe over the sheets, whimpering pathetically. Your tongue lolling out your gasping mouth, an eager target.

And then finally—finally—you were given what you asked for. Loud, uncontrolled moans spilled from Taehyung’s lips, swiftly becoming desperate before one last squeeze of his cock had him cumming, his release spraying hot all over your breasts and slowly trailing through your cleavage. 

You moaned with him, delight buzzing through your veins at being marked so intimately, and the sound seemed to trigger Namjoon, who immediately pulled out of you, expertly pumped himself a few times, and then ejaculated with a long, drawn-out grunt. After essentially edging himself for most of the night, the amount of cum he gifted you was more than generous, most of it painting your pussy in long ropes, but some of it inevitably ending up on your belly with how aggressively he was jerking himself off.      

The sight of it all, the feeling, was so unbearably hot that you almost came untouched, eyes rolling back, pussy pulsing with interest despite how exhausted you were. And your obvious pleasure was what finally set off Jin, teeth digging into his lower lip while his seed spurted white across the lower half of your face and slid down your jaw, some of it delightedly landing on your awaiting tongue. 

You hummed contentedly, immediately licking the thick, heady remnants from your lips so you wouldn’t waste a drop. Your eyes fluttered shut, your hands slowly and sensually trailing over your own body. Basking in it all. Purposely smearing their mess over wider stretches of skin—pinching gently at your nipples, dragging your fingers between your tits, gliding over your hips, drawing light, sticky figure eights around your clit before dipping a bit lower and slipping two cum-coated digits inside your hot walls. Your hips twitched, lazily chasing the intrusion on reflex. Simply enjoying being so completely and utterly satisfied.   

You were so transfixed and in your own world that you completely forgot about the three other people still in the room, greedily feasting on the undeniably filthy way you savored what they gave you. You weren’t sure how long they let you be, but it was a voice finally breaking the silence that slowly lured back to reality.          

“_____?” 

The voice was gentle, yet deep, the spell cast over you immediately broken at the sound of it. It was Namjoon, hovering over you again, lips quirking into a small smile as he watched the fog disperse from your eyes. “How do you feel?”

You let out a satisfied sigh, pulling your fingers out of your pussy with hum. “Tired,” you admitted, voice raspy from the activities. “But amazing.”

His smile widened, cheeks dimpling. “I’m glad.”

Suddenly, Taehyung was laying on the bed with you, arms wrapped around your sticky form. Just like always, his sweaty body slotted easily against yours, happily nuzzling his face into your neck and apparently wholly unfazed about the fact that you were completely covered in spunk. “You’re amazing,” he chirped, pressing a flurry of kisses into your skin and making you giggle. “You know, when you told me you liked cum forever ago, I didn’t realize this was what you meant.” 

“You never asked,” you shrugged, somehow still timid despite everything that had just happened. “What did you want me to say, exactly? Hey Tae, do you mind doing me a solid and shooting the club up? Or maybe can you give me a nice, relaxing facial?”

The pure bafflement of his expression had you laughing again. “In what world would I ever say no to that?” he demanded incredulously. 

Amused by the turn in conversation, Seokjin bent down to press his lips against your forehead in gratitude before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Do you mind if I use your shower?”

“Of course,” you replied, moving to direct him to your bathroom before Namjoon stopped you with a pat on the thigh.

“I’ll show him.”

You couldn’t help but watch their strong, naked forms leave the room, eyes drawn to the musculature of their backs and buttocks.

“Hey.” Tae poked you in the cheek, mirth dancing in his eyes from catching your ogling. “Focus. I’m talking to you.”

“What, I’m not allowed to enjoy the view?” 

He couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, though he was undeterred from getting the answers he sought.

“I told you what I wanted,” he reminded you gently, pressing another kiss against your jaw. “You know you could have done the same.”

You shifted in his hold, sheepish. “Tae, all of this isn’t really about me…”

“What, so just because we’re paying you, you’re not supposed to enjoy it too?” he scoffed. “Baby, as we’ve just proven tonight, it’s more fun when we all have fun.”

“I always have fun!” you protested, but you were prevented from elaborating by Namjoon returning with a washcloth. He climbed back on the bed, reaching for your ankles and guiding them apart.

“Open,” he directed, his tone containing none of the dominance it often had when he usually uttered the word. You obediently followed his instruction, a soft sigh escaping your lips when he pressed the warm cloth against your thoroughly battered netherparts and started cleaning you up. 

For a little bit, Taehyung watched your makeshift bath in silence, not even saying anything when Namjoon left to rinse off the towel and came back with a freshly damp one, gliding over the stained skin of your face and chest before they started to crust over. In fact, Tae didn’t speak again until your spot bath was finished and Namjoon was clambering back in the bed with the two of you, an arm slinging low over your waist as to not disturb where Tae’s rested. Pulling you against him until your chests were flush.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us on our trip?” You could feel Taehyung’s pout against your skin, displeased at the idea of being away from you for three weeks.

You huffed out a laugh, slinging a leg over Namjoon’s hip to settle more comfortably into your new position as the filling of a TaeJoon sandwich. “I’m positive. I have a lot studying to do and frankly, I’m not completely sure I can walk anymore.”

“Who said you need to walk?” Namjoon cut in sleepily. 

“We can pay someone to walk for you,” came Tae’s enthusiastic, yet ridiculous offer. “We’ll be going to meetings, but you can just roam the city if you want. Or relax at the hotel. You can lounge by the pool all day and put all your food and drinks on our tab.” 

Though it certainly sounded tempting, you were fully aware what the tradeoff of that makeshift vacation would be, and the absolute last thing you wanted to think about after the crazy intense session you just experienced was sex. So, despite Taehyung’s wheedling, you managed to stand firm in your decision, completely fine with waiting until they were back in the country to even consider spreading your legs for any of them again.

And you were justified when Seokjin finally reappeared, fully clothed, rubbing a towel through his hair, and informing you that his assistant Wendy would be in touch to schedule his next session for sometime after he returned.

chapters⇢ previous | next | series masterlist

[madsenlover]

under a star - filled sky☆ | creloise.

pairing: cressida cowper x eloise bridgerton.

cressida dreams about kissing eloise, and now she wants to make it happen.

warnings: headcanons? (basically both cressida and eloise ONLY GIRL kissers = lesbians.)

a/n: holis!!, sorry if there's any mistakes and the use of translator is too obvious, english is not my native language. hope you enjoy :))

to this day, cressida has no idea how she let herself be overcome by her intrusive thoughts. but there she was, in front of the bridgertons' house, looking for a way to sneak into the backyard and bribe a maid so she could be alone with eloise.

the more she thought about it, the less she could believe it. in the last few months, her friendship with eloise had become more than intense, and she was surprised, in a good way, at how trusting they were at this point.

at first, something inside her told her that it wouldn't last. perhaps because she knew that the bridgerton girl's approach to her was only due to a mysterious estrangement with penelope featherington, or maybe because she was certain that when her parents found out how close they were, they would try to force her to cut ties with el.

the slightest thought of not being able to continue seeing eloise, on walks or at a ball, tormented her. especially after having dreamed about her. she needed to tell el, to find "a solution" to those thoughts before her parents, especially her mother, realized that she was acting strange and forced the truth out of her with a fearful interrogation.

"cressida?", she heard a cold whisper coming from inside the house. "have you gone mad?, it's the middle of the night."

eloise was dressed in her nightclothes, in her left hand lay her priceless cigarette, which she took the opportunity to smoke outside the house, so that no one in her family would be attracted by the smell.

"pardon me, el.", she said evidently nervous. "i paid your maid to leave us alone, i hope you won't be upset."

"i don't think that was necessary, she would have left us alone if I simply asked her to." she said, as she watched her maid re-enter the house. "but I guess you can still afford to lose some money," eloise took a puff on her cigarette and laughed at the look on cressida's face.

cressida smiled, but remained silent. she was still trying to gather her thoughts so that she could express herself to her.

her now serious look alarmed eloise a little. she usually only saw her preoccupied on evenings when no suitor offered to dance with her. it was unusual for the blonde to have that kind of expression on her face, she thought.

"did something happen to you?", she asked. "you look…paler than usual. it's concerning."

oh, she noticed. cressida was quick to respond:

"indeed, something happened", she began to play vaguely with her hands, avoiding direct contact with eloise's eyes.

she had once heard, she couldn't remember from whom, that looking into eloise bridgerton's eyes was a trap; it would only take a few minutes for her to discover whatever it was you were trying to hide.

after another puff on her cigarette, eloise looked steadily for her friend's gaze. would she tell her what had happened or was she just there to babble?

as soon as cressida's shy eyes met hers, something in eloise softened.

"cressida, you…can tell me anything." she said in a whisper, leaning closer to her. "trust me, I will not judge you…, even when you have come to my house in the scandalous hours of the night."

that made lady cowper giggle. cressida knew she could trust eloise, that the woman in front of her would not judge what she had to say, but the thing was…. serious? unusual? scandalous, indeed.

"eloise…" she took a deep breath, "some time ago, while we were having tea in my garden, you confessed to me that you consider yourself an open-minded woman."

she nodded, finishing her cigarette and stepping on the remains of it.

"as an open-minded woman…", she continued. "have you ever occupied your deepest thoughts with a friend?", with every word, cressida's voice trembled a little more.

eloise blinked several times, confused. "occupy my thoughts with a friend, you mean …. think of a particular friend very often?, write them a letter? well, of course."

"have you never dreamt of a friend?", after analysing what she had just asked, cressida looked at her with wild eyes. had that question really come out of her mouth?.

eloise looked petrified. "i need you to be more specific", she asked.

she wasn't stupid, she had an idea what kind of dreams the girl in front of her was referring to, but for some strange reason she needed to hear her suspicions confirmed.

cressida snorted nervously, she felt there was no need to be more explicit, but anxiety was killing her inside.

"please, tell me again that you're an open-minded woman" she pleaded with her eyes closed, placing her hands on her friend's shoulders.

she could feel eloise's tense body trembling; maybe it was the nerves of the situation or maybe it was a cold night and she hadn't noticed.

"cressida, I…" something in cressida's troubled but angelic face calmed her, and she thought how she had not realised before how beautiful lady cowper was. she shook her head, she had never had difficulty or shame in admitting when a woman was beautiful, but perhaps the moment called for another intervention.

"i am a very open-minded woman", she confirmed.

cressida released her grip slightly, but did not take her hands off eloise's arms. she opened her eyes and sighed.

"I dreamt about you last night," she finally confessed. "i have heard other young ladies say that we should have this kind of dream about any suitor who catches our eye or even any man we find interesting, as inappropriate and scandalous as that may sound."

silence. "say something."

eloise, still petrified, stared directly into cressida's eyes. "I…I don't consider myself a very interesting person, but I'm glad to know that I've caught your attention… "

"eloise!", cressida shouted.

she took her hand and quickly led cressida to the back of the courtyard. eloise couldn't let anyone hear them.

"all right, I apologise.", she laughed a bit. "but do not shout."

"el, this is serious. i'm very ashamed, i'm not in the mood for jokes."

"ashamed?", she knew it was unusual to dream that kind of thing about a woman, but was it so wrong to have dreamt about her precisely?, weren't they friends?.

"i'm already considered an spinster, imagine what could happen to me if people find out that I have these…thoughts."

eloise knew what it was like to be in the public eye, and "fame" had not exactly treated her well. she understood, at least a little, her friend's concern.

she let out a breath of air looking at a specific spot, her mother's little flower garden, she had so many memories there. she looked down and confessed:

"you know, i've dreamt about a female friend before too.", cressida stared at her. "i know how weird it feels, and even though I've never told anyone, i've never been ashamed of it."

"how did you manage to stop it from happening again?", eloise finally looked at her, cressida no longer cared if eloise discovered her ton of secrets, she couldn't, she didn't want to, look away from her beautiful eyes.

"I didn't.", her pale face was decorated with a melancholy smile. "I mean, I haven't had one of those dreams in a while," she clarified. "but it wasn't just one, and they all ended the same way…"

"a kiss." they both said at the same time.

eloise noticed cressida slightly shivering so she took her hand to lead her into the kitchen to the fireplace to warm her up. but she refused to move, she insisted but cressida was stronger.

from the look on her friend's face, eloise knew that lady cowper had an idea and that she would not move from that backyard without making that idea a reality.

"please don't think I've gone mad," she took both of eloise's hands, which made her back tingle, "but I think I understand how we can find out if this thing that's happened to us is something to worry about."

"cressida, i don't think…"

"kiss me." she asked, or perhaps begged. eloise's lips were trembling, she wanted to say something but her friend's request had left her colder than the cold air that night. "just think about it, these dreams torment us because we fear wanting something like that in real life, when we know that these situations are merely our imagination."

eloise was in a state of deep doubt, but she was sure of one thing: the reality that her context offered her - marriage, lots of children and just hosting balls - was not what she wanted for her life.

she remembered her older sister daphne, who indeed spent much of her time doing that and was so happy, she wanted to achieve the same happiness but doing what she was truly passionate about. and to the disgrace of her mother, siblings and above all, society, men were not worthy of her passion.

"if you kiss me," cressida continued, "i will have the real experience and these thoughts will simply disappear."

"cressida these feelings do not 'simply disappear', believe me I've tried".

"just because you have failed doesn't mean I will", there was the cressida that eloise had known for years, her tone disrupting all peace.

she wanted to shut her up, she wanted to show her that those feelings that tormented her so much were not easy to retract.

in fact, eloise wanted cressida not to limit those feelings or what they invited her to do. she thought it would convince her to stop fighting and acknowledge her feelings. maybe she would feel less alone knowing that another woman was going through the same thing she was.

"you're supposed to be my friend, I need you to help..."

"all right, i'll kiss you", she said in a raised voice, higher than she would've allowed herself if she had a maid nearby. "just keep still".

"do you know how to do this?, cressida's gaze betrayed her curiosity, and her impatience to experience the act for the first time in her life.

"I guess all those dreams will come to something", she giggled.

and just like that, under a star-filled sky, eloise bridgerton kissed cressida cowper.

it didn't last more than five seconds, but those were enough for both of them to feel sparks coming out of their chests.

they looked at each other as their lips stopped touching, undecided; they didn't know what to say, or if they should say anything at all.

cressida felt exquisite, the thought of having to push aside those cravings for kissing women kept wandering through her mind, but honestly she couldn't care less at that moment.

shocked, eloise said: "do you mind if I do it again?".

that was the confirmation cressida needed, so this time, it was her who initiated the kiss, at first a little desperate for contact.

a shiver ran down her spine as eloise gently placed her hand behind her neck to intensify the kiss.

kissing her felt so good, it felt right.

cressida had no experience in the art of kissing, nor had she dreamed enough to learn from the resource that eloise was using perfectly.

but she wanted to show her that she was not so naïve when it came to kissing, which was true; her mother instructed her very well when it came to kissing her husband.

so she placed her hands on eloise's cheeks, a gesture she had never seen up close but had heard of at home.

"hands on cheeks are an act of affection, of protection..."

surprised by the contact, eloise broke the kiss for a moment; she stepped back and placed one of her hands on cressida's waist.

"is everything all right?", eloise nodded for reassurance.

"I could get used to this", she said as she played with a strand of blonde hair that fell over her shoulder.

cressida shivered again, god! next time she should bring a better coat.

"it will be an honour to bribe your maid again", she responded with a proud smile.

"you're so lucky to be rich", eloise giggled and kissed her again.

-

-

-

two weeks in the making, this is (hopefully) my first creloise one shot!!. i'm so nervous bc of the language ajdjfs hope it's not that bad 🙏🏼.

[yanxidarlings]

am struggling to find inspiration to write slytherin so here's some nightmare fuel instead 💀 also pls tell me it's not just me the yellow font is gone and i am in despair (gave zs green instead bcos he's pretty much a 🐍)

YANDERE! CORMAC MCLAGGEN VS YANDERE! ZACHARIAS SMITH

• on todays edition of shit no one asked for: the most cursed pair of yanderes. just imagine for a second being stuck with two yanderes, already a situation of itself, but two douchebag yanderes, now that's just comically unlucky.

• cormac and zacharias are pretty much at the bottom of the yandere foodchain — paired up against anyone else and no doubt the other yandere comes out on top, but what if we take other yanderes out of the equation? what if our dear darling / reader doesn't have to deal with groups of snakes and eagles? (cormacias smithlaggen)

• i feel like both cormac and zacharias's obsession would be someone who doesn't have many people around them. because fundamentally neither are smart nor talented enough to come up with an elaborate scheme to trap the darling, the only way to 'get' their darling would be to drag them into a draining and boundless friendship.

• despite being incredibly similar in the way they 'yandere', their biggest difference is how they treat the darling: to zacharias, his darling is the only person who matters in his life, whilst cormac is simply obsessed with the idea of them, whether it be for their looks, intelligence, reputation, they're the person he wants to spend his life with, whether they like it or not.

• whilst their motivations might be different, both are preoccupied with 'keeping' their darling, feelings and emotions be damned. sure, zacharias wants his darling to be happy, but without him? he wants to wipe the smile off their face whenever he see's them with anyone else. they can be miserable, unstable and depressed, he doesn't care and he'll deal with whatever mood swings they throw at him. the one thing he won't deal with is his darling being away from him.

• zacharias might be the 'sweeter' (i use this term loosely) of the two, but that by no means implies he'd be fine with sharing. zach can barely share his darling with themself, and has pretty much attached himself to their hip. he doesn't bother having other close friends or caring about other people, zacharias only needs you and you only need him.

• but what exactly is he going to do when cormac comes onto his darling? the gryffindor just inserts himself into their perfectly content life and acts like their boyfriend, and broke his nose the one time zacharias dared tell him to (looks down) get lost in the forbidden forest and get [redacted] by a centaur-

• cormac? he's worse, he objectifies his darling in every way possible. he might not see exactly see them as an object, but he has trouble taking any of their emotions seriously. you don't want to spend the night with him? sounds like a you problem, love </3. is he happy when they're happy? sure, but does he give a rats arse if they're uncomfortable? mclaggen doesn't even notice.

• despite his less than savoury traits, cormac isn't opposed to sharing, and might even prefer it, as long as he gets his daily darling time, does it really matter if there's another?

• he might even become more tolerable as a yandere sharing, maybe it's the competition being the darlings favourite becomes, or maybe it's just the 'good' influence from watching zacharias bend over backwards to make their darling happy, but he slowly starts to care.

• albeit, still in a himbo, macho way. pricked your finger? cormac happily marches to and from the hospital wing to bring his darling a bandaid. broke a bone? (because cormac didn't catch you in time after throwing you down the stairs) he won't let his dear lift a finger (literally, you tried to get up and he kept pushing you back down).

• one thing they can agree on is that the darling is not allowed any privacy or agency in this relationship, you don't want to kiss? too bad, pucker up love it's time for the 4pm make out session, cormac called first dibs today!. you want to study for the o.w.l's? suck it up, nerd, it's hogsmeade day, zacharias is taking you to the three broomsticks and cormac has a game later that you have to cheer at.

"oh come oon!" zacharias whined as his arm was once again pushed off by m/n, but he did not let up, and once again slung his arm around the others shoulders "how much exposure therapy do i need to put you through, mate" he dragged them along, walking towards the quidditch pitch that was slowly piling up with students, all eagerly waiting for the match to begin.

m/n let out a sigh of relief as zacharias finally removed his arm, instead gripping onto their forearm and guiding them up the stands "we have to get seats at the top, cormac bet me five galleons he could high five me on his broom — there's this new quill at scrivenshafts i'm dying to get"

the match felt like it was never going to end, the screaming of gryffindor and slytherin as each team got a hold of the quaffle was deafening, and his eyes were to stay glued to cormac the entire match, he couldn't gaze at any other player even for a second, especially potter, or else-

"potters got the snitch!"

the sound of lee jordans voice erupted the gryffindor side of the pitch into victorious roars of applause. they knew what came next, it always happened but maybe cormac would be too distracted by his victory to-

"how about a kiss for the star of the match" ah, cormac had already flown over to where they sat "i want my five galleons first!" zacharias pipped up, patting at mclaggens pockets "get off me smith — you can have it tomorrow, i just came here for my kiss" and with that, before m/n could say anything, cormac had grabbed ahold of either side of their face, pulling their lips to his.

• cormac and zacharias don't so much share as they do tolerate each others presence within the darlings life. the bright side is that together, they do stand a chance against another yandere, probably not an intelligent one like anthony goldstein, or a violent one like one of the theo's™, but if the darling were to have also caught to attention of someone like lorenzo berkshire, they probably wouldn't loose custody immediately.

[oldworldghost]

Telling stories to Pinochio fron Lies of P about Fairytales or whatever crap reader made when reader is bored !!

[Preferably former librarian Reader x Pino :3]

Tell me a story and I'll tell you I love you

↳ Anon I absolutely love this prompt, so I had to write a little something for it. This is definitely more focused on Pincchios' feelings for you as opposed to the actually story telling bit, and I think by the end especially it kind of stops being about the request a bit I am so sorry LMAO. Let me know if you want hcs or something else instead! :D

↳ This is currently unedited, I’ll do that tomorrow!

Pinocchio sits beside you, head resting limply on your shoulder as he finds himself falling deeper in love with you.

You’re sharing one of the many stories in your knowledge with him, something old and undoubtedly picked up from your time as a librarian. Something – Pinocchio thinks – that only you know now, expect maybe Antonia, but he’s seen you catch even her by surprise with fanciful worlds and characters. It’s an insurmountable act of love, to hold so much in your mind and with such care. No details [at least from his knowledge] forgotten, no characters left aside for fear of boring the crowd. Every bit just as important as the other, no matter how minuscule it is.

Some part of him wonders if you do the same for everyone else, collect the lore of the hotels final inhabitants with the same wonder you share for characters. What do you remember about him? Pinocchio likes to think that you hold onto everything he’s shared with you, sprinkle him across the stories of your own making. Maybe he’s something that inspiration can be found in, someone you admire more than anything. Built up in your mind like the greatest of heroes. You could care that much, he thinks, and he could even be your favourite.

Maybe you’ve even found Pinocchios’ love for you spread across his pages. He doesn’t see how you could miss it, there’s so much that he doesn’t even know what to do with it except sink in it. Day after day, night after night. He’s sinking even now, nestled into you side in one of the hotels many unused rooms.

It’s your voice that keeps Pinocchios’ attention. You’re onto the part of the story where a great battle takes place, the last defence of mankind against a dark and terrible lord. Both the lords strongest servant and a king have been slain, and yet despite the story nearing its peak Pinocchio finds himself unable to focus on your words. He catches phrases, can understand your tone and the pronunciation of speech, but it’s difficult to put the meaning together. Any other day and he’d be engrossed in it, hanging of every syllable like a starving animal, but today his mind is preoccupied.

The feeling in his chest is growing unbearable, and he wonders if his gears will simply cease to work as a result. It might not be the worst thing in the world, to die by your side. He might even be able to call it a pleasure, a privilege.

Still, Pinocchio doesn’t particularly care for the idea of his own death, especially not when there are more pressing matters on his mind, and so with a bout of almost uncharacteristic boldness he sits up. You don’t pay him any mind, not until hands – rougher than he means them to be – turn your body towards his. Lamely your sentence finishes, head tilting to the side and eyebrows knitting together in a look of confusion and mild amusement.

Pinocchio takes the opportunity to look at you, really look at you. Blue glass eyes take in every detail, every curve and dip and mark, your breathes growing shakier as he leans in. There is a mole under your left eye, he notes, a faint scar running across your mouth. He traces it with his finger and your breath hitches, an incoherent mumble of something that feels like it’s his name. Moonlight shines in above your head like a halo, and Pinocchio thinks you couldn’t look anymore gorgeous than you already do. He wonders if he looks as beautiful to you as you do to him. The sparkle in your eyes, the glint of what could be called awe suggests that he does. Pride and love fill in Pinocchios’ chest until he’s moving without thought, leaning – sinking, always sinking - into you. Lips, clumsy and adoring, press against your own in a fleeting kiss, pulling away before you’re given the chance to respond.

You see the man before you grow from confident to timid in the moonlight, as if coming to the realisation of what he had just done.

“I-” Pinocchio cuts himself off, going to speak only to be met with his own silence.

He doesn’t know why words aren’t forming, and for a moment he wonders if something malfunctioned in him during the kiss. You can see the gears turning in his head, a question forming on the tip of your tongue. This time, Pinocchio cuts you off instead of himself.

“I’m in love with you. I’m sorry to be so sudden, but I,” he takes a moment to steady himself, “I could not be quiet about it any longer.”

A breathless laugh bubbles in your throat in response, a smile curving its way on your mouth as you go to speak, “I was wondering if you did. For a puppet you’re not exactly the most subtle person I’ve met.”

It’s Pinocchios’ turn to be surprised.

“You knew?”

“I was hoping I did. Never said anything because I didn’t know if you felt that way or if it was wishful thinking on my part. Hell, didn’t even know if you could actually feel such a thing. I mean, I know my stories are good, but I didn’t know if they were that good.”

“You... feel the same.”

“Of course,” the smile on your face is crooked and it takes everything in him not to kiss you again, “you’re a very hard person not to love.”

“Say it, please.”

You laugh once more. It is the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

“I love you, Pinocchio. More than anything,” his heart feels fit to burst, “now can I please get back to my story? We’re nearing my favourite part and I’d like to be done by morning.”

“Yes, please. I would like that.”

As Pinocchio settles back into your side something in him clinks into place. He is unsure what it is, but as your hand slides into his and your fingers intertwine Pinocchio thinks that this is what it means to feel at home. The feeling of love only deepens, tearing it’s way further still into the recesses of his being. It will leave him bare and broken before you, he is certain of it.

Listening to you speak; Pinocchio can’t think of a better way to be swallowed whole.

[obbystars]

Farewell to All the Earthly Remains

Synopsis: He loved them. That’s why he had to make this decision no matter how much it hurt. It was for the better. This was how it should’ve been.

Notes: OC-insert / Pressure OC / Oberon Sol x GN!Reader / can’t believe i wrote that… / pre-pressure Oberon / talk about death / fluff leading to angst, no happy ending / reader is dying, cause is left open for interpretation / some scenes are based on recent game stuff I’ve been doing on roblox / if anyone knows what the title is referencing ily forever / oberon lore!

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

(here’s the oberon x reader i promised you 😭😭 i cant believe im doing this but hey, oberon lore and you get to know a little more about him so win i guess. i have been wanting to write more for him tbh. i don’t think i’ll put him on the list since he’s like… my oc, yknow? i think it’ll be more of like a treat? not everyone knows who he is so yeah.)

Every now and then, there was a young man who’d sit on the bench by the tree as a crow or two had hung around him. Sometimes there were three, sometimes four. He seemed to always have food for them, and every time, not a moment too soon, the crows would be there waiting for him. Then, while the crows went on about their day, he’d simply people-watch his time away.

He’d almost never actually speak to anyone who passed by unless they spoke to him first. Sometimes, those people scared off the crows, but sometimes they stayed. Sometimes the children who pass by want to play with the crows, and he’d have to tell them how they should handle them. Sometimes, people would observe from afar. They would admire, question, maybe even feel a little uncomfortable knowing what crows tend to represent.

A bad omen. An impending change. An unexpected change. Death.

Maybe sometimes it looked a little unsettling, but that didn’t seem to stop you from watching from afar. Every time he was there, whether alone or someone had him preoccupied, you’d watch him and try to build up your courage to talk to him.

You slowly approached him from behind, but you didn’t get very close as the man turns around and crows suddenly flew away. Only now did you realize his eyes are red. His eyes had widened and looked back to the crows. A part of him seemed a bit startled and sad that the crows left.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare them off,” you quickly apologized.

When he looked back to you, he smiled, “It’s alright. They always come back anyway. They just need to get to know you, that’s all,”

You nervously laughed, “Is it alright if I sit with you?”

“Of course. I don’t mind at all. I don’t think they mind too much either,”

He’s referring to the crows. Either way, you were still nervous as you sat down next to him.

“I believe it is considered rude to sneak up on someone the way you did,” he suddenly adds.

You immediately tensed, “I-I didn’t mean to be rude! I just didn’t know how I should approach you and I’m honestly not very good at this kind of stuff and-!”

He laughs, cutting you off, “Please, don’t stress yourself over such things. I understand not everyone can start a conversation with a stranger, but maybe it’s not the best first impression, yes?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,”

“Let’s start over then. My name is Oberon,”

You looked at him and smiled, “[Name], it’s nice to meet you,”

At this point, one of the crows came back. It was like they were testing the waters and slowly walking closer. Then another came back, and then another.

“If you don’t mind me asking… Did you happen to be named after a moon?” You bring up to try and keep the conversation going. Although, maybe it wasn’t the best thing to bring up.

“Oh? Do you happen to be interested in astrology?”

“Yeah, kind of,”

“You’d be correct then. My name came from a moon of Uranus,”

More crows came back and both of your attentions had been redirected to them. Oberon seemed to have more food for them and began to give all of them their share. One of the crows eventually made their way up to his shoulder while another had went to perch on his hand. The others were either on the bench or interacting with each other on the grass.

“Did you name any of them?”

He lets out a faint laugh, “If I did, I would grow too attached to them. I figured it’d be best if I didn’t. They are still wild animals, after all,”

“That’s true. You can’t really cage a wild animal,” you continued to watch the crows seemingly all accept Oberon as one of their own.

It looked rather strange. It was like a variation of the ones who would be surrounded by pigeons.

…you feel so awkward. He was welcoming and didn’t mind company or a conversation, but it felt so difficult to talk to him. You kept your hands on your lap, completely tense. You dragged yourself into this, and it’d be even more awkward if you just decided to bail now. Maybe even embarrassing.

Oberon suddenly holds a few seeds to you, “Do you want to try feeding them?”

“H-Huh? Are you sure?”

“You’re tense. Maybe this can help you relax,”

You look at him for a moment, then down at the seeds. The crows already looked interested, but seeing as you were there too, they didn’t go for it. With a shaky hand, you accepted to try it.

“Take a deep breath and relax yourself,” he continues, “Avert your gaze, let the birds know you’re not a threat to them. They’ll know the food’s safe. They’ll warm up to you,”

You did as he said. You calmed yourself as you stared out towards the field. You can hear the crows making small noises. It was like they were discussing if they should trust you or not. You can see a crow in the corner of your eye inching closer and closer to your hand before it snatches up a seed and moves back.

It was silent, and then another decided to try it too.

“See? They’re not going to hurt you. They just want to talk,”

You blinked and turned to Oberon. He was talking to the crow on his hand. Before you knew it, the other crows had already taken all of the seeds you had. You did feel more relaxed, but they still seemed cautious about you. Trust with birds doesn’t come easy after all.

One had suddenly come up to your blind spot and cawed at you. When they see you jump slightly, it jumps off and onto the ground to join the others. It was like they were laughing. You can hear Oberon holding back his laughter, and you couldn’t help but laugh yourself.

The two of you would continue talking for a while. Time was practically lost. The crows would eventually start moving away, some even leaving. Oberon seems to take that as a sign and stands up.

“I suppose that’s time, then,”

“Off to do other stuff?”

“By stuff, it’s mostly work,” he admits, “Lots of work to do. This was just my own little break,”

You pulled out your phone to check the time, but then you hesitantly asked, “Do you think we can stay in contact? I’d love to talk more if that’s okay…?”

He looked at you with a surprised expression, but he still smiled, “I’d love that. Would same time tomorrow suffice?”

“Oh, yeah!” You nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, [Name],”

You watched him leave and observed the remaining crows who stayed behind. There was one who lingered closer to you and sort of pecked at your shoes. Maybe you’ll come here on your own time just for the birds as well.

You and Oberon have been meeting up quite frequently the past few weeks. Sometimes it was during his routine of feeding his corvids, while others were a bit sudden as you had run into each other. This time, you two ran into each other in a dessert buffet. It had just opened a few days ago and you found the time to have a look, and it seems like he had the same idea.

“To be honest, I didn’t expect you to be into sweets,”

“D-Do I really give off such an impression?” He stuttered, “I try to make it a habit to eat different kinds of food. I was hoping maybe this buffet could have something new,”

You smiled, “I think I heard they have quite a variety of treats. I wonder what kind of cake they have,”

“I’m hoping that they have a red velvet cake. I’ve never tried it before,”

“I’m pretty sure they do. I saw a video of someone reviewing it already which is why I even came here, actually,”

He turns to you with a smile, “Oh? Looks like you already know what’s in here,”

“Only a few things! Maybe they added new stuff? Even though it’s only been a few days…?”

“Only one way to find out, then,”

The two of you were given a table that was on the second floor which did give you a good view. Once that was settled, you were free to get whatever you’d like. There was a wide variety you could choose from. They even had some sandwiches you could choose. After a few minutes of deciding, your plate was filled with some of your favorites. The table was still empty when you came back. Looks like Oberon is still searching around, so you sit down and place your plate and cup of your preferred drink down. You didn’t get too much as you can always go back down to get more if you wanted to.

About a minute passes by and Oberon came back with two plates full of treats. He found the red velvet cake and cupcake, he had some eclairs, croissant, macarons… He might as well eat everything in this buffet.

“Wow. Didn’t think you’d REALLY love these,” you laughed.

His face turns red in embarrassment, “Everything looked so good! I couldn’t decide!”

You take another bite out of what you had picked up, “You can leave your plates here. I’ll watch ‘em while you get something to drink,”

“Thanks,”

He carefully places them down and almost runs back down the stairs. The sight of that was amusing, and looking at his plate… It’s taking all of your strength to not steal one of them. He won’t notice, right? Right?

No, no. That’s rude. He probably won’t be too happy about it. Who knows how he’d react? You looked away and continued eating your own to try and not think about it. It doesn’t take too long for him to return with a cup. You watched as sparkles seemingly appeared in his eyes as he ate. Hell, you swear you can see sparkles surrounding him.

Even after you got your second plate and finished what you had picked up, he pushed for a fourth plate to get whatever he hadn’t tried. It was pretty impressive to see he can eat that much, and it was nice to see such a happy look on his face. In the end, he seemed satisfied with the experience.

You two stayed to chat for a little while longer, even going back down to grab another drink. Oberon offered to pay when the topic of the bill came up and you didn’t mind, but you still felt like you could’ve at least paid for what you ate. He did get a lot to eat after all. Even if you offered to pay your share, he would’ve insisted he handle it.

You checked your phone for the time as Oberon offers to walk you home as it started to get dark, which you thanked him for. It also meant a little more time with him.

You lightly shoulder bumped him, “Did you have fun?”

“Of course I did,” he smiles, “The food was good, we had a very nice view… I had really fun with you,”

You tried not to blush at that comment, but you can already feel your cheeks heating up, “We should go together again some time. What do you think?”

“I’ll let you know whenever I can. Of course, as long as your schedule allows you to,”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me. I never asked what you do for work, so I hope you don’t mind me asking now,”

“Hm, what if I keep you in the dark there for now?”

“Sounds mysterious. Alright, fine,” you smile.

As you continued to walk, you notice that Oberon seems to like looking up at the stars. There wasn’t that many out tonight, but that didn’t stop him. Part of him looked a little sad though. You eventually pass by the graveyard your home happened to be close to and Oberon’s attention immediately shifted towards it. It was almost strange, but maybe he lost someone. You’re not one to pry.

He stopped walking all of a sudden, “Do you think those people were afraid?”

“Huh?” You stopped to turn to him, “Afraid of what?”

“Of dying. Were they scared in their final moments?”

You didn’t know what to say at first. As you looked to the countless tombstones that scattered across the field, that same question would repeat in your mind. Were they scared? Were their final moments filled with fear that they wouldn’t be at peace?

“I think… Some of them were. I mean, who wouldn’t be, right?” You hum, “But I also think some felt happy even in death,”

“Why’s that?” He questioned, his voice almost in a whisper.

“Maybe they were happy with how their life came out to be. Or maybe they were surrounded by family and knew they were the last ones they could see,”

Oberon is silent. You turn to him to see his sorrowful expression. It almost looked like he didn’t believe a word you just said, but he doesn’t speak of it.

You gently tug on his sleeve, “Oberon, are you… Afraid of death?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he quietly admits, “I’m just… I’m just confused. Even when you led a life you wanted to live, one where you accomplished everything you wanted to. Even when you’re surrounded by people who love you, wouldn’t you be at least a little afraid?”

You looked down, hesitating to hold his hand, “Yeah, maybe that’s how some felt deep down,”

“Do you believe there is an afterlife?”

“I like to think there is. I mean, that can’t be it, right? Our lives suddenly come to an end and suddenly there’s just…nothing?”

“Is that why some are afraid? There may just be nothing on the other side?”

You looked down, “Maybe, but I don’t think they thought of that even in their final moments,”

“…I hope you’re right,”

Both of you continued to stare at the graveyard in silence. You really do wonder why he brought that up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I brought up such a topic. Come on, we’re almost there, right?”

“Oh, yeah,”

For the rest of the way, you two walk side by side and in silence. He would walk you to your door, say good night and goodbye, and you’d watch him disappear into the dark through your window. Something about him was strange, but strange in a rather interesting way. You wonder if the feeling is mutual.

When you awoke, you were… in your room. It was just as you had left it. Was that a dream? A very, very long dream that felt all too real? You leaned forward as you gently rubbed your head. It was such an odd dream, yet with the remaining moments of what you remember from it, you can’t help but feel warm all of a sudden.

That man you’ve been meeting with. He was sweet, gentle, and patient. He loved the bakery you invited him to. He loved crows and fed them whenever he could. His view on death was… interesting. He was afraid. He was confused when others didn’t seem to be afraid of their end and rather embraced it. Had he lost someone before? Is that why he was afraid? Maybe you should ask him next time you meet.

Just as you were going to stand up, you hear footsteps approaching. Your door suddenly opens and a strange man entered. He had a black mask and black horns. There were two pairs of wings on him, one located on his head while the other pair rested beside his waist. There was even a halo above his head.

An angel? You must be dreaming again…

The white eyes on the mask almost looked sad when he saw you, “I apologize for the intrusion. I’m sure you have many questions, and I assure you they will be answered. Most, at least. It depends on the question,”

You tried to stay calm just to make sure this was indeed a dream. You’ll wake up any minute now, right?

“How did you get in my house?”

He shakes his head, “While it may appear to be, this isn’t a house. It’s a room, your room. Where you are is my realm that resides in the line between life and death. It only appears as this because this place is where you feel the safest,”

You feel your heart beginning to pound against your chest. Between life and death? Realm?

“W-Who are you?”

The man pauses as he went to pull a chair over and sat down in front of you, “You…may refer to me as Mr. Sol,”

“What are you?”

“I suppose the closest thing I can call myself in your words is a grim reaper, but I am not here to collect your soul. Perhaps I can describe it as…guiding your soul,”

Grim reaper? Soul? He’s not an angel?

“Guiding my soul? Where?”

“That’s for you to decide,”

Mr. Sol has been strangely open about answering such questions. It’s hard to tell if he is lying or telling the truth. It may be the mask, but his tone seemed genuine.

“I don’t understand. Am… Am I dead?”

Mr. Sol looked down for a moment, and the white eyes closed, “Not yet,”

“What happened to me?”

His eyes open at that question, “You don’t remember?”

When you shake your head, he starts looking around. A few drawers open and eventually, a file is pulled out from one of them. He opens it, giving it a quick read before closing the file and holding it to you.

“This will explain everything. From the moment you were born to your eventual end,” he says, “But it is up to you to read it,”

You stare at the file then briefly looked at him. Your entire life, and it’s in a small file that he holds in his hands. Hesitantly, you grab the file and open it. A picture of you, your name, your age, your date of birth, your family, your school life… It was all there. The final paragraph detailing your fate was suddenly cut off, but the moments that happened before was all there. You were dying.

You look up at him, “You said you will guide me to where I want to go. What do you mean by that?”

Mr. Sol pauses yet again. He crosses his legs and his hands rest on his lap, “[Name], I am giving you the choice to continue where your life had left off or to end it. I am giving you the choice to go back, to wake up in the living world continue with the life you planned for yourself. I am giving you a second chance,”

“And if I say no?”

“Death awaits,” was all he said. His tone had shifted slightly as he said that.

It was an easy choice. Anyone would want to continue living. Anyone would give anything for a second chance when absolutely nothing was being asked for in return. You’d even see him again. You wonder if he had tried contacting you during that moment. He must be worried.

“This is the only chance I get, right?”

He nods, “Yes. It is all I can give you,”

“So we won’t be meeting again, huh?”

“It’d be best if we didn’t…”

Should you? The answer feels obvious, so you finally give him your answer.

“I’d like to go back,”

Mr. Sol nods and stands up, holding out a hand to you. He pulls you up to your feet and suddenly pulls you closer to him. He held your hand close to where his heart should be.

“I must tell you, once we go back, you won’t remember your time with me. You won’t remember a thing about me,” he lets out a shaky breath, almost like he was holding back tears, “I’m sorry,”

The crows seem to like hanging around the bench you often sit at. You’re not quite sure why. It’s not like you had any food on you for them. One of them was even sitting on the bench, looking up at you almost like you were an old friend. You only stared back, wondering why a flock had decided to hang out around with you.

One suddenly flew off and soon, the others followed one by one. You watched them leave and begin to surround a man walking down the path. He had held out a hand for one to perch onto.

Ah, maybe they were only just waiting for him. Crows can remember faces after all, and perhaps they accepted him as their friend. It was strange. You’d think it would be pigeons one would be surrounded by, but this man had attracted and befriended them. He must be very knowledgeable with them, maybe even grew up with them.

You smiled, stifling a laugh. It’s not often you see something like that, but it is a sight to behold. You wonder just how long it must’ve taken the flock to accept him.

The man continued down the path beyond your sight. The crows follows his steps and look up at him, almost begging for more food. The one on his hand caws, turning its head towards their usual meeting spot.

He shouldn’t have allowed you to get so close in the first place. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to get so attached.

I am actually ashamed to say I made an Oberon disguising as a human and I hate it so much he looks like a generic anime boy

UGHH I LITERALLY COULD NOT LOOK AT HIM HELP MEEEE 😭😭😭

BOY KEEP YOUR MASK ON

[katerina-marie]

Don't Go Slowly, Tell Me If You're Lonely (Series)

Chapter 4

Gojo Satoru x Reader & (past) Geto Suguru x Reader

Your relationship with Geto Suguru came to an end somewhere between the day of his betrayal and the day of his death. Your relationship with Gojo Satoru began somewhere in the midst of it all, even without you realizing.

WC: 8.4k

Content: Canon Divergence, Gojo x Female Reader (referred to as such but left descriptively vague), (past) Geto Suguru x Female Reader, Geto's canonical death, friends to lovers, angst, eventual happy ending, fluff later, reader is a sorcerer (left vague tho), no use of y/n. More notes below.

Chapter Count: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3, Chp 4, Chp 5, Chp 6 (Final)

Notes: Would you believe me if I said the first two points on my outline for this chapter were "Omg, footsies" and "Fight, fight, fight"?

-------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4: Take Me From Your Vault, Tell Me It's My Fault (You Only Know What I Want You To)

After the initial shock of seeing Gojo Satoru waiting out in front of the airport, it was clear to you that you would never quite get over the flash of white hair, his towering stature, or those eyes of his that caught attention wherever he went if they just so happened to be uncovered as they were right then. His grin was slow to appear once you spotted one another, but still alluring to you nonetheless, and you had to tighten your grip on your luggage when the sweat of your palm made your grip on it slip. You forced yourself to walk to him at a steady pace, not quite faster than normal, but if the steps you took towards him were just barely longer than felt natural, you would blame it on your eagerness to get home. 

You fretted at what to do when you reached him. Standing there and simply looking up at him felt awkward. Wrapping your arms around him was impractical when you were dragging a suitcase in one hand and a large tote was hanging off your opposite shoulder. Maybe he would just start walking along with you and you could avoid a blundering interaction altogether, but just before you came upon him, you saw his right hand twitch upwards and you had your decision made. 

You came to a stop in front of him, and with deliberate concentration, you calmly set aside your luggage and tote before looking up at him with bated breath and a curious expression. Satoru returned it in kind, white hair falling just so into his eyes, and you encircled his waist with your arms and felt him do the same around your shoulders. Every point of contact was a spark of awareness in your mind, and the clean scent of soap that lingered around him to the silken texture of his uniform was comforting in its familiarity, but thrilling in the way it felt like meeting him again for the first time. The hug didn’t last unnecessarily long, plenty appropriate for reuniting friends, but Satoru was stiff when he pulled away and his back was stuck straight. Nimble fingers closed in around the backs of your arms and you were unnerved by the way his mouth opened and shut twice in quick succession before he dropped all contact and took a step back. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, now apprehensive at the way Satoru didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, “I didn’t mean to—,” 

He interrupted you with a shake of his head as he reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “Nothing to apologize for.” With a quick duck behind you, he grabbed the handle of your luggage and swiped your tote off the ground with his free hand, and whatever odd emotion had tightened his countenance was gone by the time he rightened himself back up and was replaced with his trademark smirk. “Ready?”

You could do nothing more than nod, and you fell into step beside him as the two of you started off towards his car. He began to talk about something related to his new student, but you only partially listened and were mostly preoccupied by the commotion going on in your head. You had hoped that his unusual reaction hadn’t been anything more than a quick adjustment to your presence after so long apart. Because you, on the other hand, were stupefied when you set your on eyes on him for the first time in a year and could formulate only one singular thought:

Oh. He was handsome. 

————————————————

The clock on your nightstand read twelve after six in the morning when a second knock on your door woke you from sleep. In between the third and the fourth, you managed to stumble blearily out of your bed, and Gojo Satoru was about to knock a fifth time when you swung open your door. 

“You know,” you grumbled, rubbing away the sleep from your eyes, “I really don’t appreciate your propensity for waking me up at unreasonable hours. I just got home two days ago. I need rest.” 

Satoru was unbothered, and he leaned against your door frame with a careless shrug of his shoulders. “You missed my birthday last month. Now that you’re home, I think it’s reasonable we go out and celebrate.” 

You hoped your deadpan expression was enough to convey to him the depth of your contempt for his audacity, and you gripped the edge of the door to slam it in his face in case the message wasn’t clear enough. What he called out next stayed your hand. 

“There’s food involved!” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, annoyed at the victorious grin on his face because he apparently knew you better than you thought, insofar as that you could easily be bested by the temptation of breakfast. While you were somewhat concerned about whatever mood he seemed to be in since your arrival back home, the grin on his face was genuine and eager, and you had missed him far too much to let his peculiarities get in the way of spending time with him. But Satoru didn’t need to know that, and it was too early in the morning for you to dwell on it further, so you let out a sigh of defeat and glared at your friend. 

“Give me fifteen minutes.” 

Half an hour later found you and Satoru in the middle of the city. The biting winter air of a dreary morning could do nothing to stave off the rush of bittersweet nostalgia that overcame you when the two of you rounded a corner and came to a stop in front of a familiar red brick building. A swirl of cursive French hanging from a wooden sign above the entrance announced the name of the bakery inside, and the bronze of the door handles wore down gold from years of use. 

“God, when was the last time we were all here?” you asked, astonishment coloring your tone, and when you turned to look at Satoru, his smile was wistful as he peered through the large glass window to the side of the door. You suspected his eyes would look practically the same if they weren’t hidden behind his blindfold.

“Nanami’s birthday, if I remember correctly. The last one before…everything.” 

The laugh that bubbled up and out of your mouth was thick with emotion, but you grabbed onto Satoru’s arm in barely contained excitement and gave him a tug forward. “Let’s go!” 

He humored you, letting you pull him along until the two of you were right up by the entrance, then reached out ahead of you to open the door and motion you through with a grand sweeping of his arm. The whole thing felt a bit silly, but it thrilled you nonetheless, and the immediate barrage on your nose of the scent of fresh baked pastries made your stomach growl. You were quick to glance around at the open tables to take a seat, and one particular spot caught your eye. 

“Our table!” you squealed, doing your best to be mindful of the other patrons already present by keeping your voice a volume level lower than normal.. 

Satoru was quick on your heels as you nearly skipped over to a table in the back corner of the bakery. It wasn’t fully centered under the large window overlooking the street, but just slightly behind it, allowing for a picturesque view of the awakening city without having to be watched from walking passerbyers. The tan leather of the seats groaned and squeaked the same as you remembered as you lowered yourself down into one. 

Out of the corner of your eye, Satoru swiped a triangular piece of paper slashed with black script from where it was propped up against the utensil holder between you and shoved it into his pocket before taking his seat. You were too preoccupied with grabbing the menu to pay him any attention, and you opened it up to scan the seemingly endless options of varying teas and coffees, savory breads and decadent pastries that were masquerading as a breakfast option, all the while a scene from the last time you were here played out in your head. 

“Wait, so you didn’t tell Nanami we were going to be here?” Suguru and Satoru had the gall to look chagrined from where they sat sprawled out in their chairs across the table from you. 

“Nope,” Satoru muttered, popping the last part of the word as it left his mouth while Suguru shook his head. 

You huffed in exasperation and turned back to the menu in your hand, unwilling to devote any more brain power to chastising the troubling twosome. 

Poor, unsuspecting Nanami. He frequented this bakery most mornings on his commute as some ritual habit to help relieve the tediousness of your collective career. He’d arrive at the school with a warm sandwich in hand, a drink in the other, and would refuse to speak more than a brief pleasantry to anyone before he was able to eat his breakfast in relative peace. While Nanami had reluctantly shared the location of this particular bakery with the three of you, he had never once extended an invitation to join him. You feared that as soon as he walked through the door and caught sight of the mismatched pair of white and black hair disrupting his sacred tradition—on his birthday, no less—he’d walk right back out, sandwich and beverage be damned. A travesty, really, for the food here was worthy of the divine.

“I don’t know which one to pick!” you whined, eyes switching back and forth between two options listed on the menu. “One’s smothered in chocolate, but the other has my favorite fruit on it.”

“I’ll share with you,” Satoru offered, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes that were half-hidden by his glasses promised nothing beneficial would come out of such an arrangement.

“Absolutely not,” you snapped back, “you’ll take two huge bites and not even leave enough for me to lick off the plate.” 

Satoru snickered. “Suit yourself.” 

Before you could launch a verbal attack, Suguru interrupted you with a nudge of his leg under the table. “I’ll get one,” he said, though you couldn’t say he sounded a hundred percent willing, “and you get the other one, that way you can try both.” 

You gave your boyfriend a sappy smile and wriggled happily in your seat. “Thank you, Suguru,” you cooed at him. He rolled his eyes playfully, but next to him Satoru gagged. You considered it beneath you to give attention to such behavior and ignored Satoru in favor of brushing your foot down Suguru’s calf to rub against his. He paid you no mind, but you continued on and let your eyes wander across the bakery. 

A tall head of blonde hair and peculiar glasses caught your attention, and you grinned at Nanami when he noticed you from his spot at the door. He was surprised at seeing you here, that was for sure, but there was the slightest smile on his face. It even looked like he was about to take a step towards you until his gaze flicked down to Suguru and Satoru, and all emotion slid clean off his face. Nanami spun around and made for the exit.

“Nanami spotted you two and is now on the run,” you announced calmly, and it took a moment for it to register before Suguru was throwing his seat back and on his feet to chase after your friend. 

You couldn’t blame Nanami for trying his best to escape, not when you knew Satoru was going to sing him an off-key rendition of ‘happy birthday’ while forcing him to wear one of those ridiculous party hats. You offering to pay for his meal as a celebratory treat wouldn’t be able to undo whatever mood he was going to be in after. But alas, Nanami would tolerate the chaos, and you decided not to call off Suguru as he was just about to make it out the door. Instead, you continued nudging your foot along the length of his—,

Wait a minute.

You jerked your head towards Satoru only to be repulsed at the sight of him concealing muffled noises of amusement behind his fist. His foot tapped against yours once from where they were still intertwined, and you wrenched yours back with a gasp.

“You’re incorrigible!” you sputtered at him, face blanching when laughter burst forth from his mouth. Satoru threw his head back against his chair, mouth open wide and hands braced against his stomach. It was loud enough to draw looks from others in the bakery, and you were one minute shy of bashing him over the head with a plate. 

By the time Suguru returned with a vexed looking Nanami under his arm, Satoru was wiping tears from his cheeks while you sat with your arms crossed and legs tucked up under you on your seat. 

“You okay?” Satoru’s murmured question ripped you back into the present, and his brows furrowed in perplexed concern at whatever he saw on your face. Whether it was solemn longing for the feeling of completeness from when you all had been able to gather together, or grateful sorrow that it had happened at all was anyone’s best guess, and both just so happened to be competing for the room you had left to offer. “Too much?” 

You shook your head and did your best to offer Satoru a faint smile. “No,” you said, voice soft but steady. You looked about the bakery, taking in the sounds of muted chatter and the clinking of dishes until you landed back at him. “Not this time.” 

He seemed content with your answer, so you went back to perusing the menu, ready to negotiate a sharing of desserts when you felt the curve of his foot hook gently around the back of your ankle. 

While unexpected, the contact wasn’t unwelcome, and it broke goosebumps out all along your body. The sensation had happened once before—the subtle tickle of titillating energy underneath your skin—and it was in the early days of your burgeoning relationship with Suguru. Except this time, he wasn’t the first person pictured in your mind and the guilt of it never followed. Instead, when you tapped your foot back against the one still next to yours, all you could focus on was the minute smile in the corner of Satoru’s lips and the restless drumming of his fingers as he ducked his head to peer down at his own menu.

No, it certainly wasn’t too much. 

————————————————

“So, the pink hair is natural?” 

Satoru hummed out a confirmation from where he lay spread out on top of your bed, his feet dangling off one end and his head cushioned by your pillows on the other. His eyes followed you lazily as you fluttered between boxes stacked in varying corners of your new room. Upon arriving back from your year on assignment, you had been fortunate enough to move down the hall into a larger, more updated room, and in exchange for waking you up for breakfast, Satoru had offered to follow you back and help unpack. However, you were beginning to seriously doubt how much assistance he could really offer if he never left his spot on your bed. 

“Well…interesting, I guess,” you said as you pulled some of your clothing from a box and recalled your first meeting with said pink-haired student the previous afternoon. You had run into Satoru and Itadori yesterday while walking through campus, and after proper introductions, your friend had given you a quick run-down on everything related to Itadori Yuji. The boy had a smile wider than you had ever seen but was equally infectious, and his child-like enthusiasm had melted your heart just a little—his penchant for swallowing cursed objects aside.

“And I’m just here to help train him?” you asked, walking over to your bed to grab at the extra blanket trapped under Satoru. You tugged at the edge of it, but it didn’t budge, and he made no attempt to lift any of his weight as he tucked his hands behind him under his head. 

“Yup,” Satoru said, looking far too amused as you continued to pull with your best efforts. “Since there’s three first years now and three of us instructors, I figured we could all spend time investing in some one-on-one training with each of them while I handle their group training most days.” 

“Sounds like a smart idea, and I—will you get off?” you snapped at him. Satoru responded with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, and with a heaving sigh, rolled to his side just enough that you could yank the blanket out from under him. “If you don’t start helping, I’m going to kick you out.” 

“Fine, fine,” he muttered and slowly pushed himself up and off your bed before shuffling off behind you. As you began folding up your blanket, you could hear the rustling of moving boxes and you hoped Satoru would actually get to work instead of finding another spot to take a nap in

“As I was saying, I’ll be happy to teach him. Itadori seems like a good kid, if not slightly misguided in what constitutes bravery versus stupidity, if how he ended up here is anything to go by. I’ll probably regret asking, but what did he swallow again?” you asked, folding the last corner of the blanket together and then reaching over to set it delicately on the corner of your bed. You then moved on to readjust the pillows Satoru had been lounging on while waiting for his response. 

“Satoru?” You looked back behind you to see him staring down at the desk pushed back against the opposite wall of your room and a small brown box was sitting next to him on top. You walked over to his side to peek at what had stolen his attention, and your breath rushed out of you in a quiet “oh.” 

In his hands and covering the entirety of the desk were dozens of different photos, each one displaying various combinations of you, Suguru, and Satoru. More were sitting in the box, and you suspected you had left it behind when you took off on your assignment, forgetting about it and all its contents until now. You glanced over every one that you could, taking in the smiling faces and goofy poses, and tried to welcome the bittersweetness of reminiscing. 

“Look,” you said to Satoru, reaching for a photo half-hidden under another, “I think this is our first picture together.” You held the photo up between the two of you, watching Satoru’s face from the corner of your eye as he leaned down a touch over your shoulder to study the photo. 

“I think you’re right,” he murmured. “Suguru made us take it, and the two of you had just started dating. I don’t think we knew what to make of each other yet.” 

“That’s a good way to put it,” you laughed. You studied the photo for another moment, noticing the awkward way you had your arm wrapped around Satoru’s back and how his had laid crooked around your neck. He hadn’t yet transitioned to blindfolds, and his dark glasses were perched on the tip of his nose. Your bodies were stiff and slightly shifted apart so that no more of you would come into contact with the other, but your smiles were wide and full of teeth, mostly for the man behind the camera. 

“It doesn’t feel like these are at least half a decade old,” Satoru said, picking up another photo of just him and Suguru in matching uniforms and smug grins. Each of them were sporting various bruises and cuts over their heads and necks, and you were sure there was an interesting story behind it. 

“Time passes quicker than we realize,” you said softly, and without thinking too much of it, you leaned your head to rest it gently on Satoru’s arm. “I suppose I need to do something with them, maybe put them in a photobook or something. I don’t want to get rid of them. I just wish…” 

You weren’t exactly sure what you were going to wish for. For Suguru to come back? To be alive, but wholly different? For time to rewind years into the past in the hopes you could prevent what would happen? Or for things to stay the same, but for it to hurt less, if just the feeling of grief itself could speed along into something more easily managed?

“Well,” Satoru quipped, stepping away from you rather abruptly to make his way towards your door, “sounds like a good idea to me, but it’ll have to wait. I promised Yuji we’d meet him for training here in just a bit.” 

Add whiplash to the list of calamities one might incur in the presence of the great Gojo Satoru.

“Are you serious?” you asked him, incredulousness making you sound a bit sharper than you intended, but then again you weren’t sure if the question was directed towards his sudden departure that nearly left him stumbling, or the fact you had just barely made a dent in unpacking and Satoru was already running off again. 

“Absolutely,” he exclaimed, nearly halfway out the door already, and you were left to scurry around your room to find shoes before chasing after him. 

“You still have to help me unpack!” 

————————————————

As you would find out in the coming weeks, the teaching of the next generation never came without its perils. 

“I am really sorry,” Itadori said, rushing to get the words out while he bowed at you in the same breath. You laid on his shoulder the hand that wasn’t busy holding an ice pack against your wound, and waited until he stood back up to offer him a reassuring smile from where you sat on an infirmary bed. 

“It happens from time to time, and I forgive you, so no need to apologize anymore. It was also my fault. I was distracted.” 

It was insulting enough to your pride to have been unable to dodge Itadori’s blow—where he lacked in experience he clearly made up with brute force—and it was made even worse for you to know that you were too busy fretting over Satoru’s rapidly changing moods to anticipate the attack or notice the sudden eruption of energy over Itadori’s fist before it made contact with your ribcage. 

You were quite unenthused at how Satoru volleyed back and forth between contentment in your presence and fleeing from the sight of you in the next. The thought of confronting him had crossed your mind more than once, but he had been unusually busy in the month since your last intentional time spent together at breakfast and the opportunity had yet to arise. 

In the meantime, you had offered your assistance to wherever you could be of help, and it had come in the form of pale pink hair and a puppy-esque personality. After landing his blow to your ribs, Itadori had followed you to Shoko’s infirmary, hands hovering all around as you walked with your arm braced under your chest, and he was obsequious in his haste to meet whatever perceived need you had while the two of you waited for Shoko. Where she was, however, was unbeknownst to you, but you suspected it might have something to do with the group of friends she seemed to have made while you were overseas. She had been persistent in getting you to join her for a night out in the few weeks you had been home, but you hadn’t quite felt up to going out, and you had used the excuse of obligatory training with Itadori to get out of this evening’s invitation. 

“Can I do anything else?” Itadori’s eyes were wide and his mouth was set into a dejected pout.

“No,” you assured him, “so please, go out and enjoy your Friday night. I’ll be fine waiting here for Shoko.” He seemed hesitant to leave you alone, but his desire to respect your authority must have won out because he began to step backwards towards the door. 

“Okay,” he said, his hand fumbling behind him for the handle while he still kept his eyes on you. “I don’t mind staying if you change your mind.” 

You shook your head and leaned further back against the pillows bracing your shoulders and back. “Go on.” 

Itadoria was all but one foot out the door and you let your eyes shut after tossing the ice pack aside when he called out to you. “Oh, I called Gojo-sensei earlier to let him know!” 

You lurched forward instinctively and immediately regretted it when pain burned through your side. It left you dizzy and vaguely sick to your stomach, and you fell back against the pillows before you reached down into your pocket to dig your phone out. The thought of sending a text to Satoru to downplay whatever Itadori had told him was tempting, especially if it kept him from appearing in the very room you were in, and you had just pulled up the message thread between you two when the door opened again and in he walked. 

“I heard you got beat up by a first year.” His voice was full of amusement, but there was something hollow about it. 

You watched as Satoru sidled up next to your bed, trying to gauge whatever mood he might be in from the movement of his body. The black blindfold was securely in place over his eyes, so you were already at a disadvantage. His shoulders were thrown back and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, all pointing to an attitude of nonchalance, but something about him had been unusually tense as of late, and it had you on edge. 

“A silly mistake on my part, but yes.” While you couldn’t see where his eyes moved, you swore his head turned ever so slightly in either direction over you. 

“May I?” He asked, gesturing a hand toward your side. You deliberated on whether or not letting him look would serve any real purpose, but his fingers twitched towards the edge of your shirt and you nodded. He helped you sit back up, and you kept your eyes on his fingers when they gathered the fabric into his hands to lift it out of the way. Satoru observed the skin you suspected was now mottled with varying shades of purple and blue, but didn’t say a word otherwise. 

He eventually let your shirt drop back into place and left your bedside to retrieve another ice pack from the freezer at the back of the room. He had the grace to wrap it with a cloth before coming back to slide it underneath your shirt, but the cold was still a shock to your skin and you jerked away from it without thought. The same pain from earlier returned, and you couldn’t help the whimper that made it out between your gritted teeth. 

“Easy now,” he murmured to you, one hand holding the ice pack against your ribs while the other came up to skim his knuckles over your temple. You leaned back into the pillows as gently as you could to rest your weary body and angled your head so you could peer up at him as he kept his face turned in your direction. You understood the necessity of his blindfold, but you had a mounting frustration for it as of late. Where Satoru was proficient at clearing his expressions of any feeling, of putting forth a playful facade to mask whatever was troubling him, he could never quite keep the emotion from sneaking its way into his eyes, and now, as you did your best to stare through the dark fabric keeping them hidden, you wanted nothing more than to rip it away. 

“Satoru,” you said softly, crossing your arm over your chest to reach for the hand he still used to hold the ice pack to your ribs, “Are you—,”

The slamming of a door down the hall interrupted whatever was going to come out of your mouth, and Satoru was up and feet away from you in the next instant. 

“Shoko’s here,” he announced to you, his voice breezy and even-keeled, “I’ll check on you later.” 

He was out the door before you could protest, and in his absence you were left to worry about what exactly was going wrong.

————————————————

You had just crossed through the front gates of Jujutsu High after a failed blind date when you decided it was finally time to move off campus and into an apartment of your own, if only to spare yourself the humiliation of ever doing it again in a place where co-workers and students alike could see you arrive home dejected and alone. 

Spring had yet to arrive to ease the cold sting of the nightime breeze, and the complimenting wrap to your dress did next to nothing to abate how it chilled your exposed skin. Each step down the cobblestone path made your feet throb in your heels and every inch of you was filled with regret for putting in the effort to dress yourself up for something you knew you had no hope for. 

Nothing about the date itself had particularly gone awry. The man had been perfectly mundane, kind in his words but only slightly more interesting than his equally boring job. The food was marginally better, but each bite passed through your mouth in a tasteless lump and landed uncomfortably in your stomach. You had made an attempt to be politely interested and reciprocated any questions he had probed you with, but the only thing you could get yourself to care about was how quickly you could hail a taxi and return home. You’d have to apologize to Shoko for possibly insulting her friend, and you made a mental note to never again offer a favor as a thanks for interrupting her evening to have your wounds treated. 

In reality, the failure came from everything the man wasn’t. At no point did he have the same warm brown eyes that had tempted you into a first date years and years ago, nor did he know how you preferred your steak or what wine you would reach for first if given the option. He wasn’t Suguru, and you bemoaned the fact that every date after this one would most likely be one in the same, over and over until maybe one day—if you were lucky—one of them would pique your interest enough that you wouldn’t spend the whole date comparing them to a ghost.

Yet, in something more terrifying than a hopeless comparison, it was for whom you yearned to be sitting in front of you at dinner that occupied the majority of your thoughts. You had found yourself wishing that the eyes staring back at you had been a breathtaking shade of blue, and when your date had nervously run his fingers through his hair, you were disappointed that it wasn’t the same shock of white you had become so adept at spotting in a crowd. Satoru had been at the forefront of your mind the entire night—for the last few months, even—and you spent the whole car ride home trying to reconcile what your heart was wanting to what you thought was honorable to a lover lost. 

What could you possibly owe to a man dead and buried?

“Pretty dress.” Satoru’s voice rang loud and clear in the stillness of the evening, and the unexpected sight of him leaning against the entrance to the school’s living quarters had you frozen in place a few feet away. He was still in his uniform even though it was late enough in the day that any work obligations could wait until tomorrow, and his blindfold was pulled up over his forehead.

“Thank you,” you called back to him, fighting off the urge to squirm in place when his eyes traced every inch of you from the tips of your shoes to how you had styled your hair, and your heart throbbed so violently it actually caused your chest to ache. “It was wasted on the evening, but…” you trailed off with a shrug of your shoulders.

Satoru made a noise of disagreement and pushed off the wall he was propped up against to walk towards you. He kicked lazily at a rock or two in his path and you followed one with your eyes as it tumbled to and fro before coming to a stop against your shoe. “You look beautiful though,” he said. “Shame that the date didn’t go well.” Not one word of that last sentence sounded sincere. 

You glanced up to him in surprise, your eyebrows raising in question. “Shoko mentioned it earlier,” he offered, coming to a stop just before the tips of his shoes could touch yours.

The idea that Satoru had been waiting for you—specifically to return home from a date—flitted across your mind and it made your stomach flip nervously. “It didn’t go badly or anything like that. Just a fruitless endeavor,” you admitted quietly.

There was a small noise in the back of his throat, but otherwise Satoru didn’t say anything else, and ensuing silence left you to stand there anxiously. As was common in the time since you’d been home, the air between you two felt thick with tension and something unspoken, and the way his eyes had never left you while his fingers played in the pockets of his pants had you longing to step nearer and wrought it out of him.

You caught a glimpse of a piece of his hair that was stuck awkwardly in between his forehead and blindfold, and you used it as an excuse to move towards him. He tracked the rising of your arm as you hooked a finger under the loop of hair to loosen it free, and when your hand lingered there after it was done, he turned his head ever so slightly to nudge his nose against the inside of your wrist. The tip of it was just as cold as the surrounding night and you barely held back a shiver as it skimmed across your skin. Even though half his face was blocked by your arm, one of his eyes still held contact with yours, and sent your pulse racing. 

Satoru didn’t move as you lowered your hand to rest it against his side, and his eyes went half-lidded as you rocked onto the balls of your feet. You shut off the part of your mind that blared at you that this wasn’t something to be swept aside once done, but the idea of it had taken up too much of your thoughts lately for you to let it go untried. Your hands landed delicately on his chest and certainly he could hear the shakiness of your breath, maybe even feel it as you leaned your head to the side so your nose didn’t press too firmly into his, and you let your eyes drift closed just as you tilted your head back to brush your lips against his. 

“I can’t,” you heard him whisper, voice full of sorrow and longing, and he stepped back from you as your eyes popped open. “Not like this.” 

Your stomach fell to your feet, and you were immediately overwhelmed with a sense of embarrassment and regret. You cursed yourself for apparently reading wrong what was going on between you two this entire time, and your body flushed with sickening warmth as your mind plied you with every vile thing he could possibly be thinking in response to your attempt to kiss him. 

You wrung your hands as you stumbled backwards. “Satoru, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, and with Suguru—,” 

Satoru shook his head, eyes wide, and his lips trembled as they opened up to say what he did next. “God, no, that’s not it.” A bitter laugh followed, and it sounded like he was questioning how exactly he got himself in such a predicament. “I’ve been lying to you.” 

Confusion and a building dread swept over you, and it must have shown on your face because he tore his gaze from you to glance around at the school grounds surrounding you both in a way that was helpless and searching. You twisted your hands into the fabric of your dress. “Satoru, I—,” 

He head snapped back to yours and in a rush he let out, “I lied to you that night. Suguru did say something.” 

Only once before had you felt your world tilt so violently on its axis, and the last time it did was the night he was referring to. Your mind went blank with static as you stared at Satoru in utter disbelief. You could feel your mouth struggling to form words that wanted to be said, but you couldn’t get the air in your lungs to flow freely enough to get anything out. Satoru lifted his foot to move towards you with a hand held out, but you lurched backwards. 

“What do you mean by ‘something?’” you managed out, raising your arm to hold your palm up to him. A cold prickle at your eyes hinted at the tears that were about to start flowing, and you watched forlornly as Satoru hesitated. His hands clenched and unclenched rapidly at his sides as his face contorted between grief and fear. “Tell me!” you demanded of him through gritted teeth. 

“Suguru and I—,” he paused to swallow and clear his throat audibly, “we spoke for a couple minutes…at the end. And he—he said some things about you.” A sob gathered in your chest and your body shook as Satoru looked like he desperately regretted every single choice that brought him to this moment. 

“Say it,” you pleaded with him, swiping furiously at your cheeks and nose to wipe away the moisture gathering there, “you have to say it. It’s not fair that I only know what you want me to.” 

Satoru bit down hard on his lip and took a step forward as he began to recount his last conversation with Suguru to you. You hung onto every word he said, but snuck a peak at the ground before you. Your stomach had begun to clench and roll in a way that threatened your earlier dinner, and only the pain of each word leaving his mouth kept you from staggering off to a bush. 

“She’s yours now, it would seem.”

Had you meant so little to Suguru that he could trade you off into the arms of another in a last ditch effort to clean up the mess he made? 

“Consider it a dying wish.” 

Suguru could have asked for anything, begged the world of his best friend in his final moments and Satoru would have relented. This is what had prevailed over any other request?

“You haven’t exactly said ‘no’, Satoru.”

Some sick and twisted part of you was wounded in your pride at how vehemently he had rejected the idea of you and him right after.

“She would not want me as I am now.” 

He was right. Your Suguru had died years before the night his heart had beat its last, but you would have given anything—any part of you—to see him one last time. To commit to memory every detail of him you had sworn you already knew if only to imprint him into your very being. But, as you had come to learn, Suguru hadn’t ever intended to offer you a final farewell, instead leaving you with words that felt empty and meaningless as they were relayed to you over a year later by proxy of his best friend. They made your skin crawl, and you wished you could pluck them out one by one from where they bounced chaotically in your mind, tumbling over and over another until they mixed into a single rush of sound. You would hurl them at the ground, into the arms of his best friend because never again did you want to recall the most dreadful words you had ever had the misfortune of hearing. 

“I’m sorry,” Satoru whispered, stilted and haunted. There were tears in his own eyes, and hot fury washed over you when your own traitorous heart craved to seek and offer comfort in him despite his own duplicity. “What he said was—,”

“It’s not even what Suguru said that bothers me so badly, Satoru,” you spat at him, stunning him into silence as he recoiled at the insistence behind your words. The idea of them, the meaning behind “she’s yours now,” wouldn’t have disgusted you that night like it didn’t now—though you can’t say they would have been welcomed—but having to hear them over a year later instead of right after Suguru died would prove to be the undoing. 

You hated the flicker of emotion in Satoru’s eyes, how it softened the corners of them and eased some slack into his previously clenched jaw. It was something teetering between undeserved hopefulness and tentative optimism, and you hated it because you knew you had been battling the exact same feelings from the moment you laid eyes on him at the airport. 

“I have spent every single second since that night convincing myself that I would be okay,” you cried to him, letting the tears in your eyes blur his figure beyond recognition just so you didn’t have to look at how his face crumpled at the pain in your voice. “It has taken all the time since then to repair even a fraction of the damage Suguru did to me, and you just undid all of it!”

“I know,” he groaned, reaching his hands up to rake them through his hair and tug at the ends of it, “I should have told you, and I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t think straight afterwards and I didn’t know what to do—,” 

“You don’t understand, Satoru,” you bit out, voice low as you walked forward to close some of the distance between you two and jab a finger into his chest. “You have someone out there waiting for you. You lost your best friend, I won’t downplay that, but me?” 

You had to stifle a whimper and Satoru looked as if you had ripped his heart from his chest. “I thought I had found my person. I was done. Suguru was it for me. A family, leaving the world of jujutsu behind, exploring the ends of the earth, or any other endless possibility—I wasn’t sure of any of these things, except for the fact that I would want them with him if that’s what we decided.”

A sob finally shook your shoulders and you reached up to curl your fingers deep into the fabric of his uniform in the hopes it would keep you standing. You had to tip your head back to look up at him. “But Suguru’s gone, and I had to live a whole year grieving and lamenting a future ripped from me, all the while you kept hidden words that made it seem like he had never once considered one for us. And I would have rather spent that time knowing so, to not pour myself out everyday for someone who didn’t deserve it.” 

Satour started to lift his hand to lay them over yours, but you yanked them from his chest before he could and crossed them over one another. The gulp of his throat was audible over the rustling of the leaves that scattered the ground next to you. “You’re right,” he said and his voice was frail. “I’ll always regret lying to you that night, but I just thought—,” 

Something snapped in your mind. “It doesn’t matter what you thought!” you screamed at him, words spilling out before you could understand the weight of them. “That wasn’t a choice for you to make for me! How dare you think you were entitled to such a decision. Can’t you see? Suguru had done the exact same thing, convincing himself and you that the two of you somehow knew what would be best for me! You were wrong. You were no better than him, and I hate—!” 

Your mouth snapped shut with a loud clacking of your teeth. You had been almost completely certain that it wasn’t going to be Satoru you were about to lay your hatred on, but every single speck of emotion died just the same on his face. Panic stilled your tongue and kept you from reaching for him when Satoru stepped back from you and lowered his blindfold. Right before it covered his eyes, you could see the impassivity that neutralized his features, and you feared the repercussions of what couldn’t be taken back. 

“Satoru,” you breathed out, scrounging your brain to come up with something to placate the words that were surely bringing life to his worst fears, but you were silenced by the hand he abruptly held up. It lingered in the air for a second before he let it drop down and into his pocket, and he didn’t give you a chance to speak before he brushed past you, his long legs eating up the ground. All you could do was turn to stare agape at his retreating figure, everything but his hair blending into the night completely. 

————————————————

There would be no rest for you in the shelter of your bed, nor would you find respite in the pacing of your floors. Minutes that ticked by on the clock transitioned into hours passed. When you couldn’t think through the feeling of being trapped by the walls of your room, you shed your dress and heels and pulled on any thickly layered article of clothing you could find before walking out into the barely lit morning.

Not once after the funeral had you entertained the idea of visiting Suguru’s grave, but you were hard pressed to keep your legs from carrying you up the hill to where he lay. The walk there felt reminiscent of the night he died: dark and dreadful and devastated. Each step you took echoed one of their names, and you had wrestled earlier with the decision of who to go to first. Practicality drove you to the dead man. You’d be lucky to find Satoru if he wasn’t interested in letting you. 

When you reached the grouping of trees that sat off from the trail, you stopped to stare at the barely visible monument marking Suguru’s grave. A great sense of sorrow filled the air around you as you saw how it sat lonely in the middle of a forest, but you would have never wanted it to be placed any closer to you than where it stood now. Unhurriedly, you forced yourself to move forward. You lowered yourself down to your knees at the edge of Suguru’s grave when you reached it, and you put your hands down to bury your fingers into the earth when your shoulders felt so heavy that they fell downwards to be closer to where he rested. You sat there as light trickled in slowly through the trees and began to fill in all the dark spaces.

“I would have wanted to say the last things I had for you months and months ago, even when I felt like you didn’t deserve it,” you said eventually. Tears dripped into the ground between your hands and you could see as one trickled down a blade of grass to disappear into the soil below it. “And I’m still not sure if you do. God, how I hate what you did to me…to us…and what it did to Satoru.” 

You swallowed down the thickness in your throat and yanked at the grass in between your fingers. “I would have followed you to the ends of the earth, Suguru. Not in the way you ultimately chose, but in the promises we whispered into each other’s skin.” 

Nothing was quite as painful as ‘almost.’ 

“I would have fought with you and screamed at you that night if you would have offered me that. It doesn’t seem like it would have made a difference to you, but I would be better for it.” You wiped the back of your hand under your nose, and then sniffled when it didn’t help in drying it off. 

“But you didn’t have anything to say to me, and instead you passed that burden on to Satoru. It was unfairly cruel, and I’m not sure who I’ll blame more out of the two of us if this is where I lose him too.” Fear was what was driving you to go to Satoru, but heartbreak kept you on your knees. 

“One day, someone is going to take your place and help me fix what you broke. It’s something I can do on my own, but I deserve to be happy and to have a future with someone when you decided all on your own not to continue ours.” 

You pushed up off your hands and knees and got to your feet to look down at the stone bearing Suguru’s name. “This isn’t because of you,” you whispered. “You may have put the words in Satoru’s head, but I started choosing him all on my own, without your interference.” 

And then you began to back away, not yet willing to take your eyes off where the corpse of a man you once loved lay, absent of everything that had made him who he was. You solidified every detail—each tree, the dark grey of the stone, to the exact green of the grass—so that you could be resolute in your ability to recall the scene in front of you from memory in its most precise form. If you never again stepped foot into this tiny slice of misery and ruin, you wanted to be sure you could always remember the consequences of words said and unsaid. 

————————————————

In a dimly lit apartment high in the sky, Gojo Satoru stood with his head turned towards his front door. Never once had he let go of his ability to always sense where you were in relation to him, and as he felt you drawing nearer to him, he wondered if anything would hurt as badly as knowing you hated him.

————————————————

Notes: I will maintain what I have said previously: it will get better! And probably in the next chapter because I hate angst, even when I'm writing it. I don't know why I thought it would turn out different for me lol.

Writer's block hit hard with this chapter, so I'm hoping it won't stick around for the next one. If it does, please worry not! I will not abandon this, but the chapter may just take a little longer to come out.

Taglist: @paprikaquinn & @kafanizdakicokiyi

[scarletwritesshit]

🍸 Gallagher x Reader 🍸Solitude of the Dreaming City

The typically bustling streets were unusually silent and empty for this time of night. The only wandering souls out and about were those who perhaps had an errand to run, or the oddities who preferred to roam the streets in solitude to indulging in a dreaming delusion. Some continued to run their businesses into the wee hours of the night; though not very profitable, it still served as their own form of escapism.

The bareness of the streets suggested that the bar that you frequented would be peacefully quiet and empty, free of untamable crowds. It wasn’t so much a drink that you were craving at this hour, but rather, the company of Gallagher, the enigmatic bartender. He never was one for talking about himself, leaving what conclusions you could draw as being no better than mere theories. Nonetheless, you did have frequent conversations with him, especially on the quietest nights with not an eavesdropper in the vicinity.

You opened up the door and the bell above you rang gently, signaling your arrival. The atmosphere was just about what you expected; silence laying thick in the room with the exception of quiet music playing in the background.

Around this time, Gallagher was usually cleaning up for the day, wiping down dirty tables and polishing drinking glasses till they were crystal clear. Currently, you saw him standing behind the table, with a soapy sponge in hand vigorously cleaning out a glass that appeared to be the unfortunate victim of a particularly sloppy drinker. He held it up to a light in front of him, checking for any spots before he dared put it back in its proper place. For a moment, he was focused on the blemishes that still remained, until his eyes caught sight of you through the glass.

"Sit wherever you’d like,” Gallagher said, still polishing out the last of the blemishes on the glass.

You took a seat in front of him, and you watched intently as he continued polishing away.

"What will it be tonight?" he asked as he put the glass away to tend to your order.

The answer to that, you hadn’t thought quite that far yet. The purpose of a bar was to satisfy one’s thirst for a drink, yet you had yet to consider that perhaps it was your time to fulfill that very purpose. It was truthfully worth it to simply watch Gallagher as he tended to the upkeeping of his business, but you had your doubts that he was going to accept that and nothing further as your order.

"Oh uh, I haven’t really thought about it yet," you admitted.

"You were looking at me as if you had something in particular that you wanted to request," he observed. "Perhaps something better curated to how you feel might be more suitable than a specific flavor?"

He looked at you as if he could read your every emotion as plainly as if it were written in an open book. You had frequented the place enough times for him to be able to easily tell what was on your mind from your mannerisms alone. Come in looking a little sad, and he would craft you something soft to soothe your weary soul. If you were in particularly high spirits, he would mix up something sweet with a kick to it to fuel you through the evening. A bartender’s gift, perhaps. Or in this case, a curse, as he must be able to tell that you were more preoccupied with talking to him than ordering a drink, as he gave you a smile that hinted that he knew all. And the little bit of flush on your face wasn’t helping your defense either.

"I…don’t know, maybe nothing too overwhelming, yet not dull enough to put me to sleep?” you said, attempting to squeeze in a request before he got any funny ideas.

It seemed to be too late for that, as no matter what you would’ve asked of him, Gallagher appeared to already have plans for you himself. At your request, he smiled and nodded, and grabbed a freshly cleaned glass and slid it to the side. He took a few limes from a bowl on the counter behind him and laid them in a pile. Gallagher picked up one of the limes, which appeared even smaller than it actually was in his massive hand, and shoved his thumb into it and pulled it into halves with ease. Some juice squirted out of the flesh and trickled down his worn, calloused hands, dampening his gloves with sticky, sour juices. He took one half in each hand and squeezed the juice into the cup, then sat aside the drained halves and repeated with another lime.

“So, what brings you here tonight?” he said as he worked at the limes.

“Oh, I was just…in the area I guess,” you said, in an attempt to not divulge your ulterior motives.

“In the area to see me, if I’m not mistaken,” he said with a wink, putting the last of the squeezed limes aside.

“Well, not exactly. You’re always by yourself at this time of night and so I- “

“Figured that I could use some company. The look in your eyes tell me everything.”

“…Perhaps,” you admitted, shying away from his gaze for a moment, “but who else is there to talk to at this hour?”

“There are quite a few other, much more livelier places, yet you chose to come back to the solitude here,” he said, flipping a bottle of tequila in the air, catching it in his hand, and sending the cap flying off with a single flick of his thumb. “Wouldn’t you rather head somewhere more entertaining?”

“It’s pretty dead outside, plus I’d rather chat with a close friend than try to fit in with a bunch of strangers.”

“Completely understandable,” he said as he watched the tequila pour from the bottle and the air bubbles within gurgle to the top. He flipped the bottle back upwards and slapped the cap back on.

You wished that you had more to talk about with him, but with every inquiry you made about his life, he left you with just as little knowledge as you had before. He wasn’t too enthusiastic about sharing any details about his day job as an officer, but a guess of yours was that the issue of confidentiality would arise. Gallagher wasn’t acting as if he were biting his tongue, either, so an equally likely possibility was that he thought that you would harbor little, if any, interest in his routine.

One thing you had learned to never pry at was his past, however. You had only bought up the question to him once, and he simply looked at you wondering why you were so eager to know about something that hardly mattered in the present. You quickly got the message that perhaps, it was a bit of a sensitive topic for him, hence why he never discussed it with you prior.

Gallagher was his own kind of enigma. The visible wear and tear on his body told a story on its own, from his beat-up hands to the scars he very lazily hid with bandages. You wanted to pry and learn of every tale that his body had to tell, but out of respect for him, you decided to leave those conversations to him to bring up.

Even more curious was how gracefully and gallantly he handled the strawberries in his rough, scarred hands, slicing the leaves off with such admirable speed and precision while leaving the plump fruit without as much as a dent. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of the small silver knife he slid through the tops of the fruit, while handing the flesh itself with such care and precision.

The tips of his white glove became stained a light pink from the strawberry juices, but it bothered him not as he was slicing the strawberries and tossing them into a blender. When he was satisfied with the amount he had prepared, he topped it off with some ice, secured the lid, and turned it on a rather high setting. It ran with such speed and force, yet he held it down with one hand as he put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with the other.

"I’ve never seen such grace in slicing strawberries, of all things," you said.

"It’s an acquired skill, I guess," he said, turning off the blender and pouring the mixture into the glass.

"Bet you’ve become honed through some real interesting experiences in life…”

"A combination of the two factors, maybe."

He grabbed one of the juiced limes and ran it around the edge of the glass, coating the top in sticky juices. His glove, covered in a concoction of strawberry and lime juices, was now starting to stick to his hand, so after taking the cigarette out of his mouth for a moment, he peeled off the sticky glove with his teeth, then spat it aside.

With his tattered hand now free, he grabbed a scoop of sugar crystals and sprinkled them along the edge of the glass, some falling onto the freshly cleaned counter. When he determined that it was blended thoroughly enough, he turned the blender off, popped the lid off, and poured its contents into the glass. With a swift flick of his surprisingly nimble wrist, he slid the glass over in front of you, not even spilling as much as a single drop.

He allowed you to add the finishing touch to his masterpiece by taking a few various colored straws between his fingers and presented them to you for you to select one that was to your liking.

"All done," he said, using his free hand to briefly take the cigarette out of his mouth.

You grabbed the straw that was most appealing to you, and he swiftly flipped the others back into the jar. Before taking a sip, you spared a moment to indulge yourself in the aroma of his expertly crafted concoction. It smelled very strongly of strawberries with just a zing of alcohol, enough to keep you in high spirits but not knock you out in an instant. You went to sample the drink, when Gallagher abruptly spun the straw towards him with a single flick of his finger.

"Wait a moment. Forgot something," he said.

Gallagher pulled out a rose from a vase that was on display on the counter. He plucked a couple of vibrant red petals and laid them on top of your drink to diffuse their flavor into the liquid. Then, he turned the straw back to you with a smile.

"What was that for?" you asked.

"A good drink is comprised of the heart and soul of both consumer and craftsman. I’d say a rose is pretty fitting for a time like now, no?"

Oh. So he meant it like that. You had to admit, the drink did taste pretty damn good infused with the rose petals, but Gallagher couldn’t make himself any more obvious at this point. As his words sank in, you remained silent as you kept your mouth on the straw, even without sipping the drink.

"No need to be shy around me, dear. It wasn’t hard to figure out why you’ve been choosing to crash at this place coincidentally when attendance was at a low," he said, looking at you as he rested his arm on the table.

"Aha, well..." you said, unable to find the words to defend yourself with.

"This ones on me, if you’d be willing to stay and chat just a little while longer.”

"Sure but, I thought you said that a drink is made from feelings of both...surely you don’t mean-"

"Hey, my offer stands regardless. Take it or leave it, you still won’t owe me any credits in the end."

"I wouldn’t mind sticking around to chat with you for a bit," you said, shyly twirling the straw around.

As he was wiping the juices from his hands with a towel, he smiled, satisfied with both his cleverly crafted beverage and your acceptance of his invitation.

"And... I do wish I could see you more often outside of your occupations."

"You and me both, sweetheart," he said, brushing some of your hair aside. "Thankfully, I doubt I’ll be seeing any more customers come in tonight, if it is truly as dead as you claim it to be out there.”

"From how the streets were looking, I assure you that the chances of someone else craving a drink at this hour are very slim.”

"Well, perfect time for a first date then, I’d say,” Gallagher said as he stood up to prepare a drink for himself.

“Agreed,” you said, pulling out a chair next to you for him to sit at.

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

hanahaki soapghost

soap spitting out flowers for the first time when they leave las almas. wheels up in ten, but he’s running last minute to the bathroom ‘cause there’s something stuck in the back of his throat and it /hurts/. coughs enough times to finally take a proper breath and…./shit/.

he knows who it’s for, there isn’t a single doubt in his mind. /what inconvenient timing/, he thinks to himself, leaning over the bathroom sink before someone knocks on the door. soap forces more of the petals, not quite yet full flowers, out of his throat and scrambles to clean it up before opening the door. ghost raises an eyebrow at him.

“You okay, Johnny?”

“‘s all good, just needed to piss.”

he…/they/ don’t have time for this, not with hassan still out there with another missile and shepard trying to get away with attempting to kill them. he can tell ghost after all of this is over.

—

soap can’t tell him. he can’t.

he knows gary sanderson, /roach/. he’d worked with him when he’d first made sergeant, and he’s a pretty stand up guy. soap remembers liking him a lot. he remembers being sad when he heard the man disappeared, reported mia but most likely dead.

now, the man stands in front of him being held in a tight hug by ghost like if he lets go, roach will disappear all over again. /fuck/. soap can’t tell ghost. it’s so clear what kind of relationship the two of them have, and the last thing soap is going to do is ruin that. maybe….maybe his feelings will go away, and with them, the flowers that are beginning to find their way into his lungs rather than just the small handfuls of petals this started out with.

it’s wishful thinking, really. soap knows just how in love with ghost he is, he’s had time to analyze and dissect those feelings. it’ll be like ripping off a limb to get rid of those feelings, so he has little choices on how to proceed next, especially since he’s already decided telling ghost is simply….not an option at all.

dying is also not an option. soap is a dramatic man, but he’s not going to let himself /die/ for love, especially if it’s preventable. which leaves him with a final choice. oh, he hates it. just thinking about it makes him feel sick, or sicker than he already is. his chest hurts and he rubs at it uncomfortably before a voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Soap! It’s so good to see you again, man!”

roach looks good. healthy. whatever happened to him during the years of his disappearance, he’s managed to shake off at least the physical effects. the other sergeant smiles broadly at him and ghost hovers over his shoulder like…well, a /ghost/. he radiates a protective aura and soap wonders if ghost sees him as a threat to roach. soap forces a smile though only someone who knows him well would be able to tell it’s fake. ghost is too preoccupied with roach to notice, and roach himself doesn’t know soap well at all.

“It’s good to see you again too, Roach. Happy to have a guy like you on board.”

someone knocks their shoulder against soap’s and when he turns to look, gaz shoots him a worried look. soap’s eyes go wide and he clears his throat, but it makes him cough. oh, he can’t do this in front of them. he tries to swallow but it makes him cough again and he gets a worried look from all three men now.

“Johnny-?”

“I’m okay,” soap rasps and covers his mouth to keep the petals from falling wet and limp from his lips. “Just need water.” his voice is rough and raspy, but he turns away before anyone can ask him what’s going on.

the last thing soap expects is to be followed. he ends up in his room and before he can shut the door, someone shoves their boot in to stop it.

“Gaz?” soap rasps.

“You need to tell him.”

/oh/. he knows. he found out. soap moves his hand, tightens his fist around the full flower in his hand and wipes at his mouth to get rid of any lingering petals.

“I can’t, Gaz.”

1/?

tbc

[hyenahunt]

Obbligato: Epilogue - 4 (END)

Writer: Akira

Season: Winter

Characters: Hiyori, Jun, Tatsumi, Nagisa, HiMERU

Proofreading: Remi + 310mc (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: Peace & hyenahunt

Tatsumi: Amen.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Hiyori: Haha. Yes, do continue to lavish your praise upon our Jun-kun!

...Honestly, when I was first shown around Reimei Academy, I found myself feeling as though we'd gotten the short end of the stick.

At that time, we had nowhere else that we could go, so we'd no choice but to resign ourselves to it. That before we could escape from Hell, we'd continue to be trapped in its depths for a while longer still.

Hiyori: But you see, as I walked along preoccupied with such melancholy thoughts, I happened to look out the window, and there I saw Jun-kun, dutifully practicing in silence all on his own.

The atmosphere of Reimei Academy at the time was truly dreadful — everyone seemed either dead inside, or they glared at each other with pure resentment.

Jun-kun was the only one with none of that air about him — instead he aspired only to improve himself.

Hiyori: And what a beautiful sight he was... Of course, telling him that to his face would be too embarrassing — it'd go to his head and he'd never let me hear the end of it.

It was while watching this boy that I found it in myself to believe my decision hadn't been made in vain. That if there was even one person like him here, then perhaps it wasn't all so bad.

And so that's why I made the decision to enroll at Reimei Academy, with Jun-kun as my goal. Honestly, I was there initially to scope out Shuuetsu Academy, a school made up of nothing but Special Student elites.

But I found myself believing that I should start all over again at rock bottom and covered with mud, just like Jun-kun.

After all, when you're up somewhere so lofty and high, you'll fail to see what's truly important.

Jun: And just what have you been so cheerfully badmouthing me 'bout, huh~?

Hiyori: Goodness, I wasn't badmouthing you. You're simply being paranoid.

Jun: You swear?

Tatsumi: That's right. I believe that you're rather important to Tomoe-san, Jun-san.

Hiyori: It's true! You rank right after my family, namely Nagisa-kun and Mary!

Jun: I rank below a dog, huh?

Hiyori: If that bothers you so much, then climb your way up! Come now, put your all into it and work ever harder for my love!

Jun: Shut it... It's not like I'm working hard for the sake of your love, y'know~?

I'm working hard so that I can be a better version of myself. Maybe my life looks all kinds of unfortunate and pitiful besides yours, but...

That's precisely why I wanna become the best and strongest idol, so that someday I can declare that's who I am, loud and proud.

It's then that the hard work of my past self will finally all be worth it.

So I'm gonna work hard, right now. I'm gonna give it everything I've got — 'cause giving it all that I've got is all I can do.

Tatsumi: That's right. Fufu, you truly do have no need for God's divine protection.

Jun: You got that right. I don't need no God to save me — 'cause I'm gonna be the one who'll save myself.

Tatsumi: .......♪

Nagisa: ... Shall we stop this idle chatter and begin recording, everyone?

... Though we could simply just rehearse today, and leave the actual filming for another day…

... We don’t have another day to spare, do we?

HiMERU: HiMERU agrees. There is no time to be looking back on days gone by.

We must look towards the future instead, and live earnestly.

So long as we are allowed to do so.

HiMERU: (Kaname. My poor, pitiable little brother. I shall take your place, at least for now.)

(I hope that one day, when you are able to walk once more, you will be able to live a little happier than before.)

(I'll arrange an environment in which you can, and secure a place for you in it as well.)

HiMERU: (I am your older brother, after all.)

HiMERU: (When you awake, when you're able to walk once more…)

(I won't fail this time. I'll make your wish come true.)

(Long have I lived alone, void of any dream at all — and now what was yours has since become my own.)

Tatsumi: (... Ah, even though this is the same place as then, the same Reimei Academy…)

(It feels different. Right now, I feel so refreshed and full of energy.)

(Are you the one I should thank for that, God?)

Tatsumi: (Our Father who art in heaven, you have always guided my life with your hand.)

(Dear fate, dear faith, I thank you for leading me to where I stand today.)

(We have faced much sorrow, despair, and tragedy.)

(Nonetheless, I stand enveloped in the warmth I had always craved. If this is reward for my piety, O God, then I truly could never detest you.)

Tatsumi: (Even if it happens that God does not exist, and this is nothing but a series of coincidences…)

(Then I shall call those coincidences miracles, rewards, and love you all the more.)

(Amen.)

(Fufu. I shall do as Tomoe-san did and use Jun-san, whom he loves so much, as an example; I'll begin at the very bottom, crawling my way through the mud.)

Tatsumi: (No matter how often he gets knocked down, how often he collapses, he still stands right back up.)

(I am forever grateful for that. Not only do I have God on my side, but friends as well.)

(Such invaluable friends who support one another…)

(Who share their warmth, and move forward with happiness in their hearts.)

(We shall walk together on this road, step by step.)

Tatsumi: ♪～♪～♪

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