#somewhere to sit on the floor. and to not have it be the room i have slept in and shared all my life that has not been redecorated since i

[novemberheart]

{overview} Kyle wakes up

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, short chapter, ghostsoap

Chapter 28 <- Chapter 29 -> Chapter 30

John had rubbed your back till you fell asleep again.

Not that you stayed asleep. Your eyes fluttered open, raw and sore. You peered over at Kyle. You feel like his anesthesia should've worn off by now. Has anyone even come to check on him?

“Gazza,” you mumbled softly. You pressed your lips against the bruise forming under his cheek. He didn't even twitch. You rubbed your eyes, carefully pulling yourself out of bed. You grabbed your phone, your hand resting against Johnny’s shoulder from where he slept on the floor.

“Yes, Bonnie?” he gasped awake, his hands held onto your thighs. He thought you were upset. You were, but that wasn't why you had woken him.

“I’m going to the bathroom. I want to find a nurse or doctor or something too,” you explained, your fingers straightening the sloppy bits of his mohawk. He yawned, nodding his head in agreement. He placed a kiss against your stomach before moving to get up. His back snapped as he stretched.

“Alright, peaches,” he sighed. “Thank you for waking me,” he added, giving your bottom a slight pat. “We’ll be back,” he said over his shoulder to the alpha who was just starting the sit up himself. Your eyes burned at the light from the hall, Johnny's hand resting above your brow to block it.

“Mac, this is the mens room,” you mumbled. Even through your squinting, you could see that.

“Aye, I have to go too. Don't worry I won’t let anything happen,” he affirmed. You shrugged, glad it was empty. You came out of the stall, trying your hardest not to look over at Johnny as you washed your hands.

A man entered. A big one. You could see his shadow moving behind you and you quickly kept your eyes trained on your hands. He took a few steps towards you and your head snapped over to Johnny wondering why he hadn't said anything.

You saw Simon’s reflection in the mirror. You squealed, not bothering to dry your hands, spinning on your heels. He grunted as you threw yourself at him, his hands gripping your sides as he hoisted you up.

“You lost, pup?” he grunted, letting you lift his mask and kiss at whatever skin you could reach. Johnny chuckled, pushing the two of you out of the way so he could wash his hands.

“That’s new,” you murmured against his jaw. He had a large, angry bruise where his jaw and neck met. You could feel him shiver. He hummed in agreement, pressing a firm kiss against your chin.

“Just a scratch,” he grumbled, nipping at your cheek. “Got a fever, pup,” he tsked, almost disapprovingly. His arm extended out, his hand resting against Johnny’s shoulder pulling the man towards him. Your mouth fell open as theirs collided. It was rough and needy and you forgot how to breathe just watching them. It was short, a string of saliva connecting them as they pulled away. Johnny swiped it away with his tongue. They turned to you, evil smirks on both their lips. They kissed your cheek softly, a mean comparison to how they were just acting. Simon didn't bother to set you down, carrying you back down the hall.

“Makin’ your beta better?” Simon asked, jostling you a bit. Your eyes grew wet suddenly, making him sigh. “S’alright, pup. The doctor says he’ll be fine. You're just here to speed up the process a bit so he doesn't hurt as long,” he soothed. You felt heavier in his arms, the weight of the pack on your shoulders. That wasn't for you to carry. It was his and John’s responsibility.

The room wasn't as dark before, John had turned on a soft lamp he had found somewhere. The machine was beeping faster than before. You tried to wiggle out of Simon's grasp and he let you.

“His heart rate picked up,” John spoke, his hand resting over his face. “I called a nurse. Should be here soon.”

Kyle's fever was back. His skin had lost its warm glow, and it would've looked cold to the touch of it were it not for the sheen of sweat covering his skin. You gained some hope when he started to twitch. It started with his good foot, then his fingers, the muscles on his face quickly following.

He didn't wake up.

Your hand reached out, your fingers tangling with his as you knelt on the bed. You swore you could hear him gasp, his body relaxing almost instantly.

“Kyky?” you questioned softly. You looked behind you at John, whose eyes were wavering back and forth between the two of you.

“Where’s the bloody nurse,” he growled, making his way out of the room.

“Stop holdin’ back,” Simon instructed, nodding his head downwards. You did as you were told, your cheek resting against Kyle’s shoulder. You breathed in his scent, a high whine leaving your throat. You couldn’t stop yourself this time. Your arms wrapping around his chest as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Your legs tangled around his good one as you sobbed quietly against him. “That’s what he needs,” Simon grunted. Simon’s large hand rested against the back of your neck, giving you an encouraging squeeze. “Needs a push to wake up,” Simon continued.

Simon had been in Kyle's shoes before. Granted, at the time you hadn't known him yet, but he remembers what it was like to be trapped inside his body without being able to escape. He could hear everything, smell everything yet he had no way to express it. Kyle was trying. Trying to show that he was there and would be fine. All Kyle needed was a little push from you to gain the energy to come out of it.

It was what had woken Simon up that first day. The smell of you had infiltrated his brain, turning it into mush besides one lingering thought.

Wake up.

“His heart rate is goin’ down,” Johnny breathed a slight tremor in his own body. Simon shushed you gently, you growing restless from not receiving any comfort from Kyle. “Johnny get in next to her,” he commanded, his hand gripping his shoulder. Johnny obeyed, gladly cuddling up behind you. You sniffled harshly, your eyes peering at his over Kyle’s shoulder. He winced, his heart twisting painfully in his chest.

“It's alright,” was all Johnny could manage, his thumb brushing under your eye. Johnny didn't stay there for long, the nurse came back into the room.

“He’s responding?” she asked. You refused to pull your face away.

“When she leaves. Started twitchin’,” Simon explained.

“He was mumblin’ something too. Couldn't make it out though. Sounded a bit like your name though sweetheart,” John added. You gasped your head snapping over to meet his.

“Really?” you begged. John nodded his head, an affirming lift in his cheeks.

“That’s fairly common,” the nurse spoke. “He could tell you were gone and was trying to figure out where you were,” she explained. You tried not to feel any less special, curling your head under his chin. “Everything seems to be back to normal. Next time you plan on leaving let me know,” she sighed, patting the edge of the bed.

You couldn't go back to sleep. You requested Johnny curl up in bed with you. It hadn't helped.

“I need you to wake up,” you whispered. Your fingers danced over Kyle’s cheek, the skin twitching under the feathery touches. “I know you hear me. You'd probably smirk if you could,” you huffed. Despite that, you pressed a kiss against his cheek, which was probably feeling a bit raw with how little your lips had left it. When you pulled away you noticed the soft curve of his lips. “I knew it,” you grumbled with a relieved smile on your face.

His eyes fluttered open.

You wanted to squeal but you kept your mouth shut. You wanted a few moments with him alone.

“I missed you,” you murmured. Another soft smile graced his face. He leaned his forehead closer to yours, urging you to come closer. You rested your head between his and the pillow. “Are you hurt? Do you want me to go get a nurse?” you questioned, already beginning to pull away. He made a noise that sounded a bit like a strangled whine.

“Just you,” he croaked. Your body felt warm as you cuddled back up against him. “Price?” He groaned.

“He’s on the floor sleeping,” you explained softly. You felt his body relax. “Mac is here too,” you spoke, lifting the hand that was splayed across Kyle’s chest. “And Simon is hunting down breakfast somewhere,” you finished. You purred softly, breathing him in. His chest rumbled for a moment before he stopped himself, a small wince on his face.

“You were saying how much you missed me?” Kyle urged, making you roll your eyes.

“Would you like me to keep going?” You hummed. He hummed in agreement, a soothing warmth spreading through his chest.

You babbled on for a few moments. Taking a bit of pride when his heart rate picked up from your words.

“Food,” Simon grunted, entering the room again. His eyes softened when they met Kyle’s. “I’ll go get a nurse,” he murmured, his knuckles brushing over Kyle’s forehead. Your heart warmed at the interaction. As Simon left he patted John awake.

“You alright?” He asked instantly, his hands gripping onto the railing of the bed.

“Never better,” Kyle croaked, making you giggle. John rolled his eyes, his lips resting against Kyle’s hairline.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his jaw clenching. You bit your lip, adjusting yourself slowly so you were facing Johnny in an attempt to give them some privacy.

“Not your fault,” Kyle said slowly, his voice cracking. “Things happen,” he finished with a clear of his throat.

“Just came out of nowhere,” John sighed. “I-I,” he started. He couldn’t find the words. The feeling you get from watching a vehicle in front of you flip three times, knowing one of your greatest loves was in there without so much as a seatbelt was hard to put in words. “We’ll take care of you now,” John promised. “That situation has already been handled.” That sent a shiver up your spine. You knew first hand what John's idea of “handling” was. Yet if it was aimed at someone who deliberately hurt Kyle- you wouldn’t oppose it.

“I trust you,” Kyle groaned softly. You felt lips skim the back of your neck and you turned back over so you were cheek to cheek with Kyle. A happy rumble echoed through him before he cut himself off.

Simon reemerged with a nurse.

Hi everyone! Hope you enjoyed this short chapter! See you in four days for chapter 30!!!! Ahhhh! 🧡

[daceydeath]

After Party

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Word Count: 0.7K Genre: Smut 🔞 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities, Swearing, Alcohol

A/N: This is literally come from seeing Hyunjin be too damn fine at the Versace show I have no excuse other than it's his own fault.

You had seen him at the show, his beauty accentuated by the sultry unbuttoned silk shirt and thin black choker but avoided him, sitting far from him you had managed to stay mostly out of his sight as he mingled and participated in interviews after the show. Now changed into a less structured dress you hoped that you would have the same luck at the party you were now stepping into. The drinks flowing and the music loud you were able to see glimpses of him as he danced his red leather trench flashing brightly as he moved. But as you drank and laughed your caution dropped you found yourself exactly where he wanted you to be. Your back pressed against a door you dress hitched up around your waist as his hands wandered across your burning skin.

“Hyunjin, we need to stop” you breathed, the warning lacking any conviction as you continued to kiss his lips between words. “You know we can’t”.

“Is that really what you want darling?” he smirked, kissing you deeply as swallowing the small gasp you let escape your throat. His fingers moved your underwear aside to let his fingers trace your damp folds. “You still can’t just admit you are mine and not his”.

His coat had been dropped to the floor somewhere behind him he had let go of it the moment he had cornered you in the empty room, now with his black trousers undone enough to get them halfway down his thighs he roughly sheathed himself inside you you eyes opening wide as you silently cried out his hips not stopping to give you even a second to adjust before he began thrusting into you with harsh desperation.

"Hyunie" you whined brokenly, your breath being punched out of you with each movement of his cock. "Please, I can’t…". 

"Tell me to stop then" He strained his voice thin "Tell me you don't want my cock so deep inside you, you will never forget how it feels". You clenched and moaned, your head falling back against the door, your brain starting to fog with pleasure too much to even comprehend how to speak.

"Ah... Ngh... Hyunjin" you breathed unable to make a sentence of even two words while his lips and tongue work on your neck nipping and sucking lightly at your flesh. “Please, more”.

"That's what I thought, you will always be mine darling" he uttered sensually moving his lips to mesh with yours, his tongue licking into your mouth which you were so willing to allow. Feeling the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix was sending red hot tendrils of pleasure through your body forcing you to pull him in closer with your leg that had remained tightly wrapped around his hip when he had placed it earlier.

"Fuck I need you so bad" Hyunjin groaned against your lips "Need to fill you, breed you, own you". His words were making you spiral the already insane level of pleasure from his perfect length pounding into you was sending you hurtling toward your high. Your thighs twitched and your eyes blurred with unshed tears until finally you broke, cuming so hard around him that his hips stuttered as your walls fluttered and gripped him so tightly you thought you might pass out.

"Hyunnie... Fuck Hyunnie" you sobbed feeling him resuming his previous pace each time he pressed into you the dull ache that followed him making you squirm in his grip.

"Relax darling I got you" he soothed his heavy panting against you neck slowing the speed of his hips and letting you breathe your vision is hazy now white dots appearing around the edges of the room but Hyunjin just kisses you again his lips soft and comforting contrasting in the best way to how he's pounding into your sopping cunt. "Only mine darling, only ever mine".

Each word leaving you shivering and gasping as you cum again only this time after a few more thrust Hyunjin follows you filling you with his hot seed as he presses himself as deep as he can inside your quaking walls.

"Hyunnie I..." You whisper, unable to trust your voice to come out properly.

"I know darling, I love you too. I always will" he smiles against your lips before kissing them sweetly.

a/n: Thank you for reading my loves you support, likes, reblogs and comments are my greatest encouragements and I appreciate you endlessly for them.

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @uno7 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser

[dylandaydreams]

reader casually mentioning to patrick during a hookup he's the first guy they've been with and him thinking is hot (bisexual king)

anon i’m so sorry this took me so long but you truly rewired my brain with this one, thank you!!

[nsfw below the cut, minors dni!]

you & patrick had mutual friends & were introduced to each other over dinner & drinks, your gazes lingering over each other long enough for your friends to understand what was going on & push you two to sit next to each other for the night. a few drinks in & you were more loose lipped than usual, free of your usual inhibitions. so when your friends suggested a game of never have i ever, you went along with it rather than calling it childish or immature like you usually would. so did patrick.

a few typical rounds passed, drinks being sipped & laughter occasionally ringing out from someone in the group. as both of you get more intoxicated, patrick’s hands start to wander. previously, one had sat on table while the other rested on his thigh, but now it was on your thigh, his thumb rubbing against your skin.

“okay, okay!” one of your friends laughed, their eyes sparkling with a new question. “never have i ever… faked an orgasm?” a chorus of groans ring out in the room, & everyone except you & patrick take a sip of their drink. you share a knowing smirk, & he gives your thigh a squeeze that makes heat pool in your stomach. “wait, seriously?” your friend questions, making your break eye contact with patrick. you shrug. “yeah, that’s what happens when you’ve only slept with women, i guess.” you laugh. your friend rolls their eyes in amusement & someone else moves to continue the game, but the sentence has barely left your mouth when you feel patrick shift next to you, rubbing the hand that’s not resting on your thigh on his face. “really?” he asks softly once your friends have resumed playing. his eyebrows are raised in shock, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that makes you shift a little in your seat.

you shoot him a glance, a smile curling at your lips. “yeah, really.” you confirm again. he nods slowly & his gaze wanders away from you for a second, focusing on a faraway point behind you before his eyebrows furrow & he meets your eyes again. “but like, by choice?” he presses. you laugh again. “i didn’t know this was such a big deal.” you tease. he tilts his head to the side & raises an eyebrow, not an ounce of embarrassment regarding the rather personal question he just asked, just curiosity. the game your friends are playing is now long forgotten.

“not necessarily by choice.” you clarify, absentmindedly taking another sip of your drink before you speak again. “just happens to be that i’ve never had sex with a guy. yet.” this last word you mutter under your breath, hoping patrick is too drunk to hear you. but if his wide grin & his hand’s grip on your thigh means anything, he definitely hears you.

once the night draws to a close, you both say goodbye to your friends, & don’t even try to be discreet about leaving together, knowing your friends’ whistles & cheers would’ve followed you out of the bar regardless of how secretive you might’ve tried to be.

~

once you get to your house, patrick can’t seem to be able to peel your clothes off of you fast enough. “fuck.” he mutters into your mouth, both of your lips glossy with spit. “can’t believe i’m gonna be the first- oh shit, first guy to fuck you.” he finishes his sentence with difficulty & closes his eyes, his own words overwhelming him. “sure you’re gonna last that long?” you tease him, amused by his shamelessness.

he takes your comment as a challenge & pulls your shirt off of you before capturing your lips again. you wrap your arms around his neck & pull him closer, & his hands slide down to your ass, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist. you comply & mumble “first door on the left.” into his mouth to guide him as he carries you to your bedroom. patrick discards his shirt somewhere on the floor of your room & then places you on the bed before laying beside you. you run your hands & then your tongue over patrick’s chest, licking & sucking & biting. he’s laying back on the bed & watching you, letting you have your fill. patrick’s trying to let you explore but his patience is quickly running out.

thankfully, you quickly reach his boxers, possibly even more impatient than he is. seeing his length through his boxers makes your eyes go wide a little & he chuckles. “you okay, pup?” he teases. “you’re big.” you reply softly, palming him through the fabric & making him groan. “mm, yeah.” he groans. “gonna let me put it all inside you, huh?” you nod as you pull his boxers down & move to take him into your mouth. “spit on it.” patrick requests, his eye glinting with amusement. you hesitate for a second but ultimately follow his request, letting drool pool on your tongue before opening your mouth & letting it slide down to his cock.

“fuck, that’s good.” patrick says, his eyes rolling back as you take him into your hand & start stroking him. “can i put my mouth on it?” you ask after a couple of minutes of just using your hands. his hips cant up into your hands at your question. “yeah, you want my dick in your mouth?” he presses. you nod & he grins. “sure baby, go ahead.” with his consent, you lower your mouth onto him & start laving kitten licks onto his tip, gathering his precum on your tongue before spreading it all across his cock. “fuck, that’s good.” he hums, watching you explore with an attentive & heated gaze. you suckle on his tips & his hips buck into your mouth, pushing himself further into your throat & making you gag. “sorry.” he grins, not sounding very sorry at all.

you roll your eyes at him & try to take him back into your mouth, but he pulls you off. “nuh uh baby, wanna fuck you.” he states, reaching for your boxers. you let him peel them off of you & then lay back on the bed. patrick crawls over you & spreads your thighs apart with his strong hands. “gonna make you feel real good.” he mutters, almost to himself as he lines himself up with your entrance. he shoots you a quick glance to make sure you’re okay, & the kind gesture in the middle of such a heated moment makes your clit twitch. he smirks like he knows & you’re about to tell him to shut up, but then he’s pushing in & the words die on your tongue.

“fuuuuuck.” patrick drags the word out, his mouth open & his eyes shut in bliss as he sinks into you. when he bottoms out he opens his eyes to check in with you. “good?” he asks. you nod & grab his hip, urging him to move. “patrick, i’m not made of glass.” you tease. “fuck me like you’re the only man who’s ever going to.” your words immediately light a fire in his eyes, & he pulls out only to slam back into you. “oh, so you want it like this?” he spits out, his hips rocking into you with speed that makes your eyes well with tears & your breaths come in gasps. “want me to take care of you huh?”

you nod as he continues to pull in & out of you, bringing you closer & closer to your climax. your arms wrap around him & you rake your nails down his back, feeling his hips kick into with more fervor at your actions. “so- so good, pat.” you manage to gasp out between thrusts. he grins. “yeah, feels good?” he mocks. you’re helpless to his goading, any sense of shame now long gone. his arms move to push your legs from around his hips to over his shoulders, reaching an even deeper spot inside you & making you whimper.

“yeah, that’s it, huh?” his eyes sparkle with delight at your reactions. you’re moments away from orgasming, & if the pulsing of his cock is anything to go by, patrick is too. “fuck, baby.” he exclaims, his confident facade falling for a moment to let you see just how good you’re making him feel. one of his hands slides from your thigh to your lower stomach, pressing down to hear you gasp at the sensation. “daddy’s gonna make a space for just for him right here, baby.” his words make you gasp & you clutch his arms, desperate to cling onto something solid while his hips continue drilling into you & his mouth continues spilling filth.

“no other man’s gonna fuck you like me.” he gasps out against your mouth, & you nod as he reaches down to brush your clit, sending you over the edge. you moan loudly as you orgasm, & patrick finishes inside you moments later with a moan of his own. he keeps thrusting shallowly for a few more seconds before pulling out, watching his cum drip out of your hole. “fuck.” he grins.

you can’t help but agree.

[linos-luna]

Cameras 🔪

Yandere!Han x Reader

Warnings: YANDERE, violence, toxic behavior, manipulation, spying, 18+

———————————————— •

You sit at your desk, staring down at the open notebook, your fingers tracing its edges, but your mind is somewhere else. The house is quiet, a little too quiet, and that familiar, uneasy feeling creeps over you again. Lately, it’s like someone’s been watching you, even when you’re sure you’re alone.

You try to shake it off, just like you’ve done every other time, telling yourself it’s nothing. But deep down, you know it’s not just paranoia. The little things have been adding up. Your stuff is always out of place, your jewelry box lid half open, a photo frame slightly crooked. And Han… well, you had mentioned it to him once, but he brushed it off.

"You're stressed, Y/N," he had said with that charming smile. "You need to relax."

That smile you love. Now it just feels off.

Your eyes drift to your bedside lamp. Something flashes, just for a second, but you see it. You sit up, heart skipping a beat as you reach for the lamp. Unscrewing the lampshade, you freeze when you see it. A tiny, blinking red light. A camera.

What the hell??

Your pulse quickens as you stare at the small device in your hand. Why is there a camera here? Who put it here?

But you already know. You just don’t want to believe it.

Your breath comes in short gasps as you tear through your room. Behind the framed pictures, inside the air vents, even inside your stuffed bear. More cameras. Everywhere.

You feel sick. How long has this been happening? How much has Han seen?

Without thinking, you grab your phone and dial Han. The anger in your voice barely masks the fear. “Han, we need to talk. Now.”

It doesn’t take him long to show up. His face is full of concern—or is it something darker? You can’t tell anymore.

“What’s going on?” he asks, stepping inside like nothing’s wrong. Like he hasn’t been invading every second of your life.

You hold up the camera, your hand trembling. “Why are there cameras in my room?”

For a split second, something flickers in his eyes. And then, just like that, his mask drops. The concern fades, and what’s left makes your stomach twist.

“I did it to protect you,” he says softly, stepping closer. “You don’t understand. I need to know you’re safe.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. You want to scream, to cry, but all that comes out is cold, hard disbelief. "This isn’t protection, Han. This is control."

His eyes darken, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You don’t get to walk away from me."

Your body tenses as he steps closer, too close. His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist before you can react. Pain surges through your arm as his grip tightens.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he growls, his breath hot against your face. “No one else will take care of you like I do. You don’t get to leave me.”

A wave of panic crashes over you, but underneath it, anger is building. You twist your wrist, trying to pull free, but his grip only tightens. The pressure makes your vision blur with tears.

“No, Han…” Your voice trembling with fury. “Y-you’re sick!”

Without thinking, you drive your knee up into his stomach, hard.

He lets out a grunt, doubling over just enough for you to yank your arm free. You stumble back, heart pounding, adrenaline flooding your system. But then Han straightens, his face twisting with rage.

Before you can react, his hand swings out, slapping you across the cheek. Pain stinging in your face, knocking you off balance. You crash into the dresser, books and other nicknacks scattering to the floor. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you whimpered a bit in pain.

He’s standing over you now, breathing heavily, his fists clenched, but then something shifts in his expression. His eyes soften, a flicker of regret passing over his face as he takes in your terrified look.

“Baby, I’m sorry!” Han pleads, his voice breaking. “Don’t cry, please! I-I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

The room spins as you force yourself up, your legs trembling beneath you. Your hand brushes against the dresser, and you grab the nearest thing, a heavy lamp. Without a second thought, you throw it at him.

It misses, crashing into the wall behind him, but Han still flinches, staggering back as he dodges. His eyes widen, and for a moment, you see hurt flicker there.

“Y/N? W-why are you trying to hurt me?” His voice trembles, and you pause, your heart pounding in your chest.

“You’re the one getting violent!” you shout, the words tearing from your throat.

For a split second, he looks like he’s about to cry, and something inside you twists painfully. He just stands there, staring at you with those sad, broken eyes, making your heart ache.

He’s manipulating you. You know it, you *know* it, but that pang of guilt creeps in anyway. You have to shake it off.

“Stop it, Han. It’s not working. Not this time.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, the softness drains from his face. The mask drops, revealing the cold, eerie calm underneath.

“Y/N…” he says, his voice unnervingly steady. “You know I love you. Everything I do is because I love you.” He takes a step closer, his eyes darkening. “And I’ll do anything for you.”

Han’s words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. His eerie calm sends a chill down your spine, but your legs won’t move. His eyes bore into yours, dark and unwavering, and you realize with a sickening jolt that there’s no reasoning with him. He’s beyond that now.

You back up slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Han… stay away from me.”

But he doesn’t listen. Instead, he takes another step toward you, his voice lowering into something soft, almost tender. “I’m the only one who can protect you, Y/N. Don’t you see? No one else will love you the way I do.”

You feel the wall press against your back, cold and unyielding. There’s nowhere else to go.

“Please, Han,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Don’t do this.”

For a moment, his face softens again, but you know it’s a lie, just like before. He closes the distance between you in two long strides, grabbing your arms and pinning you against the wall. His grip is bruising, his breath hot and uneven as he leans in, his eyes glinting with something dangerous.

“Why can’t you just be mine?” he whispers harshly, his fingers digging into your skin. “Why do you have to make this so hard?”

Panic surges through you, but your body feels frozen. You struggle against his hold, but he’s too strong. His hands move to your throat, not tightening, but just enough to make you realize how helpless you are in that moment.

Your vision blurs with tears as you gasp for air, your body trembling under his hold. This is it, you think. It’s the end. You close your eyes in defeat, bracing for the inevitable as his hands apply light pressure to your throat.

But then, just as quickly as it started, the pressure eases. You blink in confusion, feeling his grip loosen. When you open your eyes, Han’s expression has changed… his face etched with guilt, sadness pooling in his eyes.

“Baby…” he whispers softly, his hands still hovering at your throat, but no longer squeezing.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch him look down at his own hands, as if seeing them for the first time. Tears start to roll down his cheeks, silent and slow, before he suddenly pulls you into a tight embrace.

“I-I’m sorry…” he sobs, his voice breaking.

His arms wrap around you, almost crushing you against him, and the sudden shift feels jarring. You can hear him weeping, his breath catching between sobs. The warmth of his body, the way he clings to you, it's so different from the rage that had consumed him moments ago.

You stand frozen, your body still shaking, unsure of what to do. Was this another trick? Another way to manipulate you, to pull you back into his control? Or… was he actually genuine this time?

It was hard to tell, and that terrified you the most...

[salchat]

This is my tiny, innocent Dean. I've drawn him for the story I'm working on at the moment, which I'm having tremendous fun with! It's a version of Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca and is my first venture into the omegaverse, because I needed Dean to be the young omega who gets swept off his feet by the older, widowed Castiel Novak.

It could be a couple of weeks before I begin posting, because I have quite a few things to work out. I may add some Secret Garden to the mix, or a dash of Jane Eyre, just for fun. But one thing's for sure - the path to true love will not run smooth! This relationship is going to have a lot of issues to work through!

Anyway, if you'd like to read a scene, there's one below the cut...

The maitre d’s voice rang through the dining room.  “Alpha Castiel Novak!”

“Oh, good heavens!”  Mrs Butters’ shrill exclamation jolted Dean out of his daydreams.  “It's Castiel Novak! No, don't look!”

He had no intention of looking.  It’d just be another more-money-than-sense alpha knothead, puffing himself up to be admired and fawned over.  Dean didn’t give a shit.  Whereas Mrs B wet her panties every time some new high society stiff arrived at the hotel.  Still, spilling her shit-load of toxic gossip meant that Dean wasn’t getting lectured or slapped or whacked with the hard wooden edge of her fan, so he’d put on his best listening face and count it a win.

She leant toward him.  “Castiel Novak is one of The Novaks.  The Novaks, Dean.”

Who the fuck were the Novaks?

“Fabulously wealthy, one of the best traditional families.”

Assholes, then.

“Their estate is in Eversett.”  She frowned.  “Or Meldonshire.  Somewhere like that.”  She waved an airy hand, her eyes glued to the alpha’s position.  “Lebanon, the house is called.  One of the few Great Houses still being managed as it should.  Oh, he's coming this way! Oh good heavens! Oh my!”

Dean anchored his eyes to the salt and pepper set in order not to roll them.  Mrs B might not want to be seen slapping her omega companion in public, but she had a retentive memory for any little slip-up and would be sure to save up one of her best for later if she caught him.

“But sir, we can set another table next to the dance floor for you.  Really, it would be no trouble.”  The maitre d’ was going full-throttle with the smarm.

Dean didn’t catch the words of the response – just a rumble, like something heavy dragging over gravel.

“Or with a view of the terrace.  It would be the work of a moment, Mr Novak.  And a much more pleasant situation.”

The rumble was louder but no more distinct.

“Then please, allow me to bring a bottle of our best champagne.”

The gravel scraped again.  

“Whiskey.  Yes, of course, sir.  And the a la carte menu.”

The gravel stirred itself into a snarl.  Jeez, this guy was more knot-headed than most.

“A hamburger.  Of course, sir.  Followed by a slice of… pie.”  The weird newcomer might as well have requested a lump of dirt followed by a morsel of shit.  Dean couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk.  He couldn’t stop the rumble of his far from satisfied stomach either.

“Dean.”  The fan rapped his knuckles.  But she hadn’t noticed the smirk.  “Dean, stop daydreaming.  Sit up straight.”

Huh.  She was regretting taking the best chair now.  Dean, with the kitchen door flapping open and shut at his back and regular nudges to his chair from passing waiting staff, had a direct view to the next table-for-two.

Mrs B leant toward him.  “What’s he doing?”  Her pink lips moved in an exaggerated stage whisper.

“You want me to look at the alpha…uh, Mr Nover?  Novem?”

“Novak!  And yes, of course I want you to look!  Tell me what he’s doing!”

Dean looked up.  The alphas face was in shadow, downturned as if he were studying the thread-count of the tablecloth.  He had a lot of dark, messy hair.  One hand was visible, a fingertip pressing down on the blade of his fish knife so that the handle wobbled up and down.

“They say he can’t get over the death of his wife, you know.  Such a beauty, so spirited.  Amara was her name.  So sad.”  Restless fingers twitched at the stem of her wine glass.  “What’s he doing?”

“Nothing,” said Dean.  “Just sitting.”

“He must be doing something.”  Mrs B started twisting in her chair but caught herself in time, before she gave herself away as the insatiable rubber-necker that she was at heart.  “Tomorrow you can sit here and I’ll sit there!”

“Yes, ma’am.”  A passing waiter narrowly missed his head with a tray of soup.  She was welcome to Dean’s seat.

“Hasn’t he even smiled at the Contessa?  He must have noticed her, and I’m sure they know each other.  They were both at the Duke or Northerton’s ball two years ago last Christmas.”

The Contessa di Faraglione had been the object of Mrs B’s gossip for the past week since she’d arrived with her retinue of servants the week before.  She was old news now, though.  This Novak guy was the target now, and Dean would be used to help engineer an opportunity of speaking to him, which would be really embarrassing.  Like when Mrs B had made him take her card to the Contessa’s suite, claiming some kind of distant family connection.  The butler had told him to fuck off.  Probably.  Dean didn’t speak Italian.

A gust of warm, savoury air and a swell of noise at his back announced the opening of the kitchen door.  Dean hunched forward so he didn’t get a tray dumped on his head.  But the waiter was one of the more agile.  He swerved around Dean, hung a right and brought the tray down in a sweeping arc, perfectly timed to present its load to the occupant of the next table.

The occupant of the next table looked up at his meal and smiled.

And okay, yeah, it was a nice-looking hamburger.  Normally it would have had Dean transfixed, salivating with envy.  But it wasn’t the juicy patties and shiny, domed bun that brought Dean’s mind, his heart, his every-fucking-thing to a juddering halt.

Dean hadn’t seen the ocean until he was fifteen.  Before that it had been one dusty town after another, Dad dragging him and Sammy around like unwanted baggage.  But when a job had finally taken them to the coast, it’d been like all the heat and grime was washed away by that fresh, salty air.  And the colours in that huge ocean had taken his breath away.

It was the same now.  The drab, grey despair that made up Dean’s life was suddenly gone, and his world was full of ocean blue depths in the eyes of this strange alpha – strange but gorgeous, from his eyes to the soft bow of his lips to the commanding strength of his nose.  

Dean was heartily glad of his over-powdered cheeks.  Fuck, what was he thinking, blushing over some rich alpha who wouldn’t look at Dean once, let alone twice?  He really needed to get a hold of himself.

But the way that guy was looking at the burger was like he hadn’t eaten in years.  Imagine if he looked at Dean that way.  Although, maybe he’d been sick or something.  The shadows beneath his cheek bones looked sharper than they should and beneath his eyes too, little round ridges of dark cast by the bright chandeliers above them.  This alpha needed burgers and plenty of them.  Dean’s skin itched with the need to cook and cosset and caress, and Jesus fucking Christ, he was really losing it here, wasn’t he?  Really giving into his inner lapdog who just needed an alpha to boss him around to be happy.

The waiter flickered across Dean’s vision again and Mr Novak was left alone to enjoy his hamburger.  He picked up his knife and fork and raised them.  Which was a thing you did, Dean supposed, in a high-class dining room.  You ate a burger with a knife and fork.  But then his forehead crinkled into the suggestion of a frown.  He shook his head.  His rounded lips flattened into a tiny smile.  He put down his silverware.  And he picked up the burger in both hands.

“Close your mouth, Dean.”  Mrs B’s spoon scraped her bowl, chink, chink, chink, even though there was hardly any of the creamy sauce left.

Dean closed his mouth.  Then his eyes returned to the table over her shoulder.  Mr Novak hadn’t taken a bite.  He was still holding his hamburger in two hands, staring at it like he’d found the Holy Grail.

Then his eyes flicked up and fastened onto Dean’s.  Dean should look down.  He should drop his eyes like the shitty little omega-nothing that he was.  Instead he stared into the ocean.

And Mr Castiel Novak smiled at him.  Just a little smile.  Barely there before it was gone, and then he was chowing down on his meal, all his attention on his food, his eyes closing as he chewed his first mouthful, then opening again to get a load of the burger cross-section he’d created.  Did it have pickle, Dean wondered?  Mayo, cheese, the works?  Would he bite down through the whole lot, getting all the flavours in at once, in between those perfect pink lips?  And was Dean salivating over the man or the burger?

He was looking at Dean again.  Looking and smiling and nodding as if they were having an actual conversation about how great hamburgers were in general and this one in particular.

“Dean!”  

A sharp pain on his knuckles brought Dean’s attention snapping back to his employer.

“Dean!  Bridge!  The Spanish drawing room!”

“Yes, ma’am.  Sorry, ma’am.”  Bridge.  Of course it was time for bridge.  His world closed in with an almost audible snap.  Bridge was played at eight o’clock sharp every night and Dean and Mrs B were there, every single night; she to play and gossip and drink sherry, he to sit in a corner and try not to exist too loudly until he was needed.

He pushed his chair back, clumsily, and was sworn at by a passing waiter.

“Dean!”

Jeez.  He wasn’t the one who’d sworn, was he?

“Yes, ma’am.”  He rounded the table and pulled out his employer’s chair and collected up her purse and her wrap.  And he didn’t even glance over his shoulder to the most perfect alpha he’d ever seen, as he followed her to another evening of excruciating dullness in his excruciatingly dull life.

[cecesilly]

- you owe me

hamzah x reader

18+ MINORS DNI

contains: arguing, swearing, oral (fem receiving)

my first actual post don’t come for me ok idk how this works and idk if it’s too long cause idk when to stop ok thx

————————————————————————

“god, fuck!”

you’re rudely startled awake in the middle of the night by a string of loud cusses and grumbles. you quickly sit up straight, stiffening as you glance around the dark bedroom belonging to mandy and martin, in their apartment where you were currently sleeping for the night while the two of them were on vacation.

a little frightened, you hear the cats begin meowing loudly as heavy footsteps can be heard throughout the living room.

“shh, shh!” you can make out the sound of frantic pleads for the animals to stay quiet when you get out of bed and press your ear up against the door.

“where is it? martin, fucking call me back right now. jesus!”

you continue to listen, and now you recognize the voice.

hamzah.

you and hamzah have somewhat of a complicated relationship, due to both of you always being around this apartment, especially when you’re trying to hang out with mandy and he’s trying to hang out with martin. the couple has tried easing you and hamzah into being friends, yet you both have no interest in being around each other because of this annoyance that has only grown between you two over time.

you gently push the door open, being met with the humid summer air that resides outside of the bedroom, where you have a fan plugged in to help you sleep. you catch sight of him, pacing around the kitchen and living room, searching with his phone’s flashlight.

he doesn’t notice you.

you think about the easiest way to make your presence known without scaring the shit out of him, so you decide to just flip the switch to turn the hallway light on.

“huh?” he exclaims anxiously, his eyes quickly darting over and landing on you. “what the hell are you doing here?”

his voice is harsh and unforgiving as he shines the flash into your eyes, not even giving you time to adjust to the overhead light.

you shield your vision from the brightness, letting out a groan. “i could ask you the same thing. i just needed a place to sleep. which you’re interrupting right now, by the way.” you clear your throat.

“and shine that thing somewhere else, please.”

he grumbles and tosses his phone down onto the kitchen counter with a loud clatter. “i don’t have time for you right now. this is great, this is great!” he rambles. you watch him with furrowed brows as he tangles his own fingers in his hair and tugs on it, his back to you, seeming as if he’s struggling to keep his composure.

“what is your problem?” you ask, already not appreciating the way he’s speaking to you.

“no, no, you don’t get it.” he mutters. “if martin took the fucking key, if he took the fucking key with him, he’s dead. i can’t find it. i have so much work in there, and i can’t find the goddamn key.” his frustration increases with every word, as he stalks over to the couch and throws the pillows to the floor, feeling a for this key.

you assume he’s talking about the key to the studio that him and martin share for projects and whatnot, but you couldn’t care less about that. him being here has already aggravated you enough, you don’t want to help him at all.

“this is not my problem. i’m going back to sleep so, keep it down, okay?” you say with an small, sarcastic smile.

“no, no. you’re here, you’re going to help me.” he replies, his back still turned towards you.

this makes you laugh. “um, no? i’m not going to do anything for you.”

in less than a second, he turns and around and he’s suddenly an inch away from you. the room is almost unbearingly hot, the humidity making your skin sticky. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

his voice sounds like a warning when he speaks again. “whether you help me or not, i’m not leaving until i find this thing, so you’re most likely not sleeping any more tonight unless i do. if you’d just fucking look, maybe we’d get done faster and i won’t have to be around you any fucking longer than i’ve already had to.”

you stare up at him for a few moments, realizing that it technically would be better for you if you at least looked around a little bit.

“you’re sure that it’s here?”

“yes.” he says, with his jaw clenched. “fucking obviously.”

“fine.” you say affirmatively. “you’ll fucking owe me if i find it for you.”

“fine.” he replicates your tone, heading towards the bedroom without another word.

•••

it takes you over an hour, but you find it.

the key was shoved under a notebook in the drawer of martin’s desk. stupid fucking spot.

you clutch the small key attatched to a little chain in your hand, walking into the bedroom where this man is currently looking underneath the bedside table. you stand and watch his frantic demeanor, fighting back a laugh before somehow he senses your presence and turns to look at you.

“what?” he says impatiently, his knuckles going white as he grips the edge of the small nightstand.

you smile and let the key drop from your palm, holding onto the little chain and dangling it around like it’s a prize you’re showing off.

he immediately stands and steps toward you, his face lighting up as he snatches the key from you and simultaneously grips your waist with his other hand. he doesn’t even realize where his hand automatically flew, he’s just staring at the key, looking puzzled.

“where? what?” he mumbles.

you stay silent, frozen in place. you’ve never come close enough to this man to let him touch you, and you don’t know why his hand is making you feel nervous.

hamzah snaps out of it and looks at you, then down at his hand, retracting his arm silently. he pockets the key in his shorts. “where?” he repeats, looking down at you.

“desk.” your voice is barely above a whisper.

he shakes his head. “it makes me even more annoyed with you because you found it before i did.” he says.

you chew on your lip. “doesn’t matter.” you say with a straight face.

he cocks his head to the side, looking aggravated, confused, and curious all at once.

“you owe me.” you remind him with a slight nod, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead as result of the heat in the small apartment.

“right, right.” he nodded. “what do you want?”

as you think of a response, he looks at you like an animal hunting prey.

“what are you willing to give me?” you reply.

“don’t ask me that.” a breathy laugh escapes him, and he rakes his hands through his hair like he’s stressed. “you have no fucking idea.”

“i don’t?”

“no, not a goddamn clue.” he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

the sound of your own heartbeat rings in your ears, your pulse quickening. you don’t know why this ongoing tension you’ve had with him suddenly feels different, like a switch has been flipped.

“what do you mean?” is all you can manage to say as you look at him and his bewildered face, seeming like he’s lost in his own thoughts.

“what do i mean? jesus, what do i mean? yeah, fuck, i can show you what i fucking mean, okay?” he grabs your face in his hands. “you bother me so much. i can’t fucking figure out what it is with you.”

you hold onto his wrists, meeting his eyes, seeing his expression that seems almost challenging.

“god, just shut up.” i whisper urgently.

he pauses for a few seconds, but quickly makes up his mind. “yeah. ‘kay.” he responds too casually, like he can read your thoughts. he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. “can i?”

you nod.

“no, say it.” his voice is barely audible.

“yes, hamzah.”

his lips then press to yours with the urgency that his tone was lacking.

his hands travel to your waist, gripping harshly as his lips overtake yours. “fuck.” he starts to mutter as he breaks away repeatedly, like he’s trying to control himself but he just can’t stop coming back to your lips.

“m’gonna,” another kiss. “give you,” another. “what you deserve.”

you exhale against his lips, snaking your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist when his grip tightens on you and he lifts you up.

he carries you to the couch where he had thrown all the pillows from earlier, sitting you on the edge. he slides his hands under your shirt as he sinks down onto his knees.

watching him kneel before you finally makes it painfully clear what he was intending on doing, because this was what he’s willing to give you.

“oh,” you whisper.

he looks up while he’s in the middle of positioning his head between your legs.

“what?” his brows drop. “not good?”

you gaze down at him. the way he got into this position so quickly, it gives you the impression that maybe this isn’t the first time he’s thought about this.

you start to have doubts, but watching him stare up at you on his knees..

jesus christ, why the fuck not?

“no. s’good.” you nod, lifting your hips up off the surface of the couch. “c’mon.”

his lips part and he lets out an exasperated sigh, wasting no time before he tugs down your shorts and underwear. his breath hitches as your entire lower half is exposed.

“i hate you.” he says. “i hate you, and you’re so beautiful. c’mere,”

he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and extends his fingers toward you.

“hold my hand.”

your heartbeat is overwhelmingly fast, and you can barely believe the words you’re hearing and the sight before you. your thoughts aren’t even coherent right now, so you decide to ignore them and interlace your fingers with his, your hands clasped together as they now rest upon your stomach.

“squeeze as hard as you fucking want,” he murmurs, finally leaning all the way in to kiss the inside of your thighs.

your grip automatically tenses, your body reacting embarrassingly quick to the fact that his lips are so fucking close to tasting you.

you hear and feel him laugh against your skin like it’s a million tiny electric shocks in your stomach. aside from all your desire, you still feel frustrated with the fact that you hate each other so much, but he’s still buried between your thighs right now.

not just frustrated, you’re angry. he owes you.

“hamzah,” you breathe out, holding onto his hand so tight, you feel as if your bones are touching his. “just fucking- ugh,”

you rake your other hand through his hair, easing his face towards your pussy that’s painfully aching for him by now.

you see his eyes flash up at you for a split second before he responds almost immediately, latching himself onto your pussy and eating you out like his life fucking depended on it.

a constant waterfall of gasps, moans, incoherent mumbles interrupted by groans of his name come spilling from your lips as you feel his tongue working against you, his nose rubbing against your clit.

he doesn’t let go of your hand once, making sure he glances up at you every few seconds to watch your pretty face become damp with sweat, and see how your chest rises and falls with each sharp breath.

“so fucking good,” his voice vibrates against you. “how could i ever hate you, really?”

you can barely hear those last few words, but you’re too caught up in the moment to actually process what they mean.

“i feel, mm,” you can hardly put a sentence together when he’s stimulating every single part of your body so perfectly. his blunt nails gently trace along your leg that he holds over his shoulder, a stark contrast to the way he’s absolutely devouring you right now.

“hamzah, i’m..”

“i know, beautiful. let it out,” he groans.

“oh, shit, fuck!”

your orgasm possesses your whole body within seconds. your thighs trembling, sweat dripping down your chest, your face flushed, your hand still interlocked with his as you release.

it’s silent in the humid room as both of you regain your composure, hamzah taking it upon himself to lay his head against your thigh.

“hamzah..”

he perks up.

“i still don’t like you, you know.” you breathe out with a lazy smile.

his lips spread into a grin. “shut up.”

————————————————————————

[authorautumnbanks]

Accidentally Dating (14)

Summary: A series of accidental dates and meetings between Kagome and Satoru over the years.

Pairing: KagomexGojo

Series Master list

Kagome frowns as she looks down at Satoru. He's still sleeping? She nudges him with her foot. "Get up already." It's a little past 9 a.m. and it's not like Satoru to sleep in at all.

For whatever reason, he didn't want to sleep in her room last night, so they watched movies and fell asleep in the living room.

Satoru groans and spikes a hand through his white hair as he sits up. The cover falls and pools around his lap. "How long was I out?"

Has his eyes always been that blue?

"Long enough. Yesterday must have really taken a toll." She holds out the coffee mug for him, made just how he likes it. A lot of sugar and a dash of coffee. "I can make breakfast."

"Nah, let's go somewhere." Satoru's fingers brush against hers as he takes the mug. He peers at her as he takes a sip. "Spend the whole day together."

Her stomach flutters. "Well, come on then."

Satoru grimaces. "I can't, right now. Give me a moment."

Kagome rolls her eyes. "Stop being so dramatic."

"No, I can't." Satoru's cheeks flush pink and he's no longer making eye contact with her.

Okay, now he's worrying her. Why can't he get up? Kagomescrutinizes him and then bites back the gasp.

Oh. OH!

"Uhhh, just get up when you can. I'm gonna finish getting ready." She backs away. "Glad you can get it up. I mean—" she squeezes her eyes shut and then runs out of the living room. Oh Kami, she did not just say that! When she gets to her room, she slams the door shut and slides down on the floor with her back to the door. "I actually said that," she says, voice muffled by her palms.

Knock. Knock.

"You good?" Satoru asks.

"Peachy! I'll be ready in a bit." Kagome worries her bottom lip between her teeth. Her face is burning up. Nope. Nope. Nope. She is not going to think about Satoru's morning—Kagome slaps her forehead.

This isn't happening.

Three hours later, and she's still thinking about it. At this rate, her face is going to burst into a ball of flames because every time she looks at him, she thinks of this morning, and thinking about this morning means thinking about how the cover pooled around his waist and the tent was so large.

"Are you too hot?" Satoru leans over and presses his forehead to hers. "We can go back."

"I'm fine!" She takes a step back, but Satoru wraps an arm around her waist. Get a grip, Kagome! It's just Satoru. "I'm fine," she reiterates. "We don't need to go back. Besides, we came all this way. I want to know what's in Enoshima."

Satoru presses his lips together, but he gives her a little space. "The Ryuren Bell of Love is here." His cheeks stain pink. "It's a... legend has it if we ring the bell and put a padlock on the fence, then we'll be bonded together forever."

"Oh." Kagome ducks her head. Great, now she's flustered. "So how did the legend come to be?" She swallows as she looks up. His arm is still around her waist and his touch is hot. He smells nice, too.

"A five-headed dragon fell in love with a maiden on this island and reformed his ways to be with her, so I guess the legend is if an evil dragon can change his ways forever for a maiden, then everyone else who stands on the hill will be blessed too." He bites his lip. "When we were younger, I always referred to you as my maiden, at least to myself, since you grew up on a shrine..."

"Spit it out." She pokes him in the side.

"Well, they said I was a god, and I figured every god needs their own maiden." He smiles so hard, his dimples show. His white button-down shirt is freshly pressed. Paired with his shades and the bracelet she got him years ago, Satoru could pass for a model. The only casualness of his outfit is his jeans.

"You thought of me as yours even back then?" She palms her throat, lightly flexing her fingers over the pulse. Despite wearing a simple brown fitted dress with straps, her body is burning up. The denim jacket wrapped around her waist may have been overkill. If Satoru keeps being sweet like this, she will combust.

"I..." Satoru turns his head. The tips of his ears are as pink as his cheeks. "Yeah, I guess I did." They stand there for a moment, neither saying a word, but his fingers brushing her side say what they can't say.

"Let's go ring this bell," Kagome says, taking charge of the situation. She is the oldest one after all, and she swears steam is coming from his head. Guess she isn't the only one overheating. He should have worn short sleeves. "Thanks for breakfast."

"You thanked me already," Satoru says with a huff. "And that was a while ago."

"Yeah, well, I'm grateful for the food."

"After this, we're going shopping, or we could do something else."

"I don't need any more clothes, but we could do an arcade and then dinner." She wraps her arms around him as they head up the steps. "I like this. The scenery." Kagome gasps.

"What?" Satoru stiffens and looks around.

"We have to go to fox island sometime."

Satoru sighs. "I thought something happened. Not today since we don't have time, but I will take you." His lips curve up. "You're already planning our next date."

"I'm about to perform a ceremony that will bind us together forever."

"That's—this is different!" He splutters. "And I mean, it's not like it will actually do that, not that I'm against it, because there is no one but you for me, and I'm not trying to—"

Kagome presses her fingers to his lips. "Breathe. It's fine. Really." She moves her fingers, but he grabs her hand and places it back on his lips.

Oh boy.

"Well, aren't you two a pair of lovebirds," a woman says. Her dark brown eyes are old, much older than how she looks. Her hair is just as dark and goes all the way to her knees. She looks eternal like with the pink kimono and the pattern white flowers. "Come with me. I have just the padlock for you two." She turns with an expectation they will follow.

There's a stiffness to Satoru that wasn't there before. An uneasiness. Kagome reaches for his hand and pulls him along. He must still be shaken up about his near death the other day.

Truthfully, she wakes sometimes in the middle of the night with a scream stuck in her throat and her hands clawing at her chest, trying to keep her soul contained. A secret she's never told him and probably never will because then Satoru will try to fix it somehow when there is no fixing it.

Not really.

"Come on, Toru."

"I don't trust her," he whispers, giving her hand a squeeze. "Something is iffy with her energy."

"It's warm," Kagome says simply because that's all that matters to her. The woman's energy is warm and friendly. "Besides, we came all this way. Let's make it official."

"Kagome!"

"What?"

"You can't say things like that."

Oh, this is rich. He can go around yelling that they are married for years, but the moment she alludes to it, he gets flustered? Kagome rolls her eyes, making a big show of it just to mess with him.

The pretty lady leads them to a shop, a little off from the others where the other citizens are gathered. Satoru is tense as they wait near the door. If the lady notices, she doesn't comment. Instead, she walks around the counter and pulls a box from underneath.

"Here we are." She smiles at them as she removes the top. "The padlocks in the main shop are far too simple for you, too." She pulls out the padlock that is huge in her hands and places it down on the counter.

"What is this?" Satoru questions as he moves closer.

"A padlock," the woman says slowly.

Kagome squints at Satoru and sighs. "I'm sorry. It's just this padlock is special." She gives the lady a meaningful look.

"Are you matchmaking again?" A gruff voice asks, followed by heavy footsteps. The man is tall with dark hair pulled into a high ponytail and tanned skin. His eyes are a light brown, almost honey in color. His kimono is dark blue and simple.

"No, they are already together." The lady sniffs. "But the six eyes is wary."

Kagome places a hand on Satoru's chest before he picks a fight. "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"Oh! Benzaiten." She holds out an arm to the man. "And this is Ryuren."

"You're named after the dragon and the maiden?" Satoru's tone seeps with skepticism.

"No," Kagome answers. "He is the dragon." She looks at the woman. "So that's why your energy is so warm. You're the real deal. Not like Kaguya."

"Who?"

"The Shikon priestess is astute. Naturally, as you have my blessing." Benzaiten laughs, and the sound is like bells ringing on a crisp fall day. "Here, take this. Engrave your names on the padlock and ring the bell."

"You want to give that one to them?" Ryuren scratches his head and yawns.

"One lifetime is not enough. May your love transcend time and space itself."

Satoru picks up the padlock and curls his fingers around it. "What do we owe you?"

"Nothing. Seeing you two is enough for me." She shoos them away.

"W-wait," Kagome says. "Do you mind taking a picture of us?"

"Of course!" Benzaiten pulls Ryuren behind her. The sight of the tall man... demon with broad shoulders and a permanent scowl on his face is something. "Oh! Grab the camera. The one with the instant film."

"Fine," Ryuren sighs. "But if you try anything..." his nostrils flare and puffs of fire blow out.

"Don't start it and it won't be none," Satoru says flippantly. Kagome rolls her eyes and pulls Satoru along before the island becomes a battle zone. He's picking fights when they should be making allies. There's so much she wants to ask them.

How is he here?

Are there other demons?

What about maidens? Are there other celestial maidens?

"Kagome," Satoru says, pulling her out of her musings. "Ya gonna write your name?"

Oh. They're at the fence already?

She takes the sharpie and writes her name just under his and just to mess with him, she draws a heart in between their names.

"How's that?"

Satoru's face is as red as the padlock. Seriously, she's never going to stop teasing him now.

"Let's go ring the bell now!" He chokes out.

"We have to attach it to the fence first," Kagome teases.

"I know that." Satoru pouts as he attaches the padlock to the fence. He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of it. "Okay, now let's go make it official."

Something tugs on Kagome. On her soul. She turns back to the fence. "Sorry, hold on." The pull is more incessant now. Pleading. In front of the padlock, she clasps her hands together and prays.

A happy life for her and Satoru. She prays that neither time nor space separates them. No matter if she is in the past and he in the present, they will always find their way back to one another. That not even space, and all its convoluted mess, can keep them apart. In this life and in the next, they are bound.

"Ready now," she says, opening her eyes.

When they get to the bell, Benzaiten and Ryuren are already there. The line is nonexistent and Kagome suspects Ryuren has something to do with that. Satoru holds out his phone to Ryuren and takes a step back.

Guess that's some kind of truce?

Kagome bites her lip and rubs her hands down her sides. Her palms are sweaty and her heart rate is not cooperating. It's just Satoru! It's just ringing a bell.

And yet.

This feels like the start of forever and with the prayer she just prayed replaying in the back of her mind, this feels like something bigger than them.

"Let's do it together," Satoru says, placing his hand over hers. The bell rings out. Kagome stares at it and then laughs. The nervousness fades away as the bell slows down. "Hey Kagome," Satoru says, dropping his hand to cup her face. "Can I kiss you?"

Her laugh dies in her throat as the nervousness seeps back in with a vengeance. A kiss? She nods, not trusting her vocal cords to cooperate. Satoru hesitates for a brief moment. He's just as nervous as her. He brushes his lips against hers and maybe it is because it is her first kiss or maybe it is because it is simply Satoru, but she swears it is the kiss to end all others. She throws her arms around his neck and leans forward on the tip of her toes, desperate to get closer.

Distantly she hears Ryuren groaning about why he has to take a picture of this.

When Satoru pulls away and flicks his gaze back to her lips as if he can't get enough, Kagome's legs wobble.

Oh... her eyes widen. She's in love with him.

***

A/N: Where did September go? Swear the month just started. Didn't initially plan to bring Ryuren and Benzaiten into the story, but they insisted and here we are.

"Is Syouma delegating his work to Ryu?" - Yep, and Ryu loves the trust that Syouma has in him. Though he is a bit gruff about it.

"What if Kagome is a compatible star vessel replacement?" - Higher-ups can't demand that of Kagome if she were (she isn't) Yuki was never forced to do it. My mind is blanking but I think you also have to be invited by Tengen to reach her.

Next update will be the Multiverse chapter. No date in mind because I think I'm getting sick, but hoping to update later this week. And then working on Thousand Days. The chapter I was working on didn't feel right, which means the guys are going to be stuck together for a while longer lol. They haven't suffered enough.

Take care! Get plenty of rest and make sure to drink plenty of water. Stock up on some soups too (though chicken noodle soup from scratch is the best). Have an awesome week!

[dullgecko]

omfg you can't stop there with the neck-touching story, i'm so invested. the aftermath, i beg of you. did riz isolate himself/hide from his friends in shame after the fact? how did fabian react? did he blame riz? blame himself? were the bad kids able to coax riz back into the party after his self-imposed isolation?

Fabian had been completely blindsided by the sudden attack. Not literally, thank Cas, Rizs hands were small enough that he'd only torn up the half elfs cheek with his claws before stopping. As it was Fabian had felt him hit bone and had flinched away to cradle the sudden ragged hole in his cheek while the rogue hissed and put distance between them.

He felt Kristen's magic cut through the white hot pain after only a second. Flesh knitting back together in an instant and leaving no trace of the attack save for the heat on his skin and the blood in his mouth. He spat what was remaining onto the ground to join the pool of blood that had spilled there, turning his head when Kristen touched his face to let her check she hadn't missed anything.

"What the fuck The Ball. Claws are taking it a little far don't you think?" The half elf pushed himself to sit upright rather than remaining in his hunched position. His brief spike of anger at the attack fading when he noticed their rogue was gone.

"The Ball? Did anyone see where he went?"

There had been a quick search, each of them splitting up to go check his usual hiding spots in the house before reconvening in the living room. Adaine crouching to clean the blood off the carpet while Fig pulled out her crystal to see if they could find any clues.

She'd been recording while Fabian and Riz tousled on the floor, her cystal propped up on a side table as the teifling cheering Riz on. Whooping when he 'pinned' Fabian to the ground and settled into a cross legged position on his chest in victory. He had clearly been having fun, ears high and alert and tail flicking in a way they knew meant 'happy' as he mock clawed at Fabians face. He had his fingers curled in such a way that he was only batting their fighter in the face with his knuckles though so Fig was confused as to how Riz had clawed the half elf.

It had all happened so quickly that she'd assumed that Riz clawed him first THEN Fabian pinned him to the floor. The video showed otherwise though. Their rogue laughing even as their positions were flipped RIGHT up until the point Fabians completed the pin with his hand around the goblins throat.

The flip from smiling to terror had been almost instant, the video clear enough that they could see his pupils contract to slits even as he full force raked his claws across Fabians face. The goblin scrambling out of the cameras field of view when he was released. Thankfully they had still been recording even as everyone lept to check on Fabian where he was groaning on the floor. They could very audibly hear the front door slamming shut while Kristen was healing Fabian in the footage.

"Fuck dude did you kneel on his tail or something? I think you really hurt him."

Fabian shook his head, eye going wide as he watched the footage over Figs shoulder. A yawning pit of guilt opening in his stomach as she rewound it a few time to watch again and try and work out why Riz had flipped out. If he was hurt they needed to help him but he tended to hide injuries up until the point he couldn't function and they forced help on him.

"We need to go find him."

---------

Riz was in such a panic that he didn't have a plan beyond 'put distance between me and everyone else as fast as possible'. The door slammed shut behind him and he briefly contemplated booking it down the driveway but The Hangman was chasing pigeons about halfway down and Riz had just attacked its master.

He went right instead, rounding the side of the house to cut through the cemetery and find somewhere to hide. He'd never done something like this before and he was terrified. Both of himself because he couldn't remember the attack AND of the consequences.

Sure he'd nipped and scratched his friends before but he very rarely drew blood, and even then it was only usually a pinprick. He obviously hadn't held back this time, the evidence drying on his claws and face from where it had dripped on him before he scrambled free.

What would they think of him now? That he was as dangerous and violent as what people always said goblins were? Would they deal with him the same way they usually dealt with people that attacked them? He'd fled the house completely unarmed and he didnt even grab his briefcase before leaving. Hell, without his sword he didn't even have an advantage when hiding right now.

Riz stopped in the middle of the cemetery, crouching behind a large headstone just off the path so he could hide and collect his thoughts. The goblin whining as he tried to wipe the blood off his hand onto the grass but found that the vast majority of it had dried and wasn't coming free.

He realised he hadn't picked the best hiding spot but he couldn't muster the energy to care. Riz curling into a smaller ball and pressing his face against his knees, arms and tail alike looping around his ankles as he tried very hard to pretend he didn't exist anymore. So what if they found him, maybe he deserved whatever punishment they saw fit.

---------------

Riz wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting outside whe he heard the first footsteps approaching. He'd let himself retreat fully into his own mind as he tried to work out what exactly had happened and kept coming up empty. The rogue didn't even move when his crystal started ringing in his pocket, Fabian obviously trying to call him since he was the only person not set to mute.

Riz shifted to cover his head with his arms when the footsteps rapidly got closer, hoping to at least protect what he could if they were mad even if he didn't make an effort to run. The last time he clawed someone like this was in middle school and he'd spent weeks hiding the broken ribs from his mom after the kids friends had gotten their shots in.

"I've found him." He heard Fabian shout, though the sound was muffled with his arms shielding his head. The goblin whining and trying to curl up more when he felt hands gently try to pry his arms away.

"Riz? Fuck. Are you okay? I'm sorry. Hey..."

Riz relaxed slightly when the expected blows didn't come, letting the fighter untangle his arms and gently inspect his hand because it was still covered in dry blood. He did yank his tail away from his hand when he tried to inspect it as well though, tucking it up behind himself out of grabbing range and hissing into his own knees.

"Can you look at me? Are you hurt?"

Fabian still had a grip on both of his hands, thumbs pressing into his palms as he kneaded at the soft tissue there. Riz let him continue for a few more seconds before withdrawing his hands from his grip and wrapping them around his chest. Lifting his head to peek at the fighters concerned face which he was relieved was all in one piece.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened." Riz said quietly, dipping his ears back in show of contrition.

"What happened was you clawed the shit out of me." Fabian scoffed, reaching forwards to coax Riz to sit up further so he could see his face properly, the half-elf licking his thumb to try and get some of the dried blood off the goblins cheek. The act making Riz screw his face up in a way that made Fabian laugh. "I think it was my fault though. I apologise."

"What? No I attacked you I'm-" He froze, claws digging into his vest as the half elfs hand hovered close to his throat. Fabian making a face as if he'd just made a point before withdrawing carefully.

"No I'm quite sure it was my fault." Fabian shifted to sit next to the rogue instead, bringing a knee up to rest his arm on as he looked out over the cemetary. "Fig was filming and I can tell when someone gets triggered. My father used to get the same way sometimes... Do you think you're up to coming back inside?"

Riz shook his head, leaning forwards to hide his face against his knees again and sighing loudly. Leaning against Fabians side when his friend draped his arm over him and pulled him in to sit a little closer.

"Alright. I'll stay out here with you for a while then."

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Storm

Ivy and Claudine Feelings fic. Might add Ivy & Diego interaction later but I’m posting it now.

The rain drums against the roof and windows incessantly.

Sometimes, rain drops fall into the room through a crack of a window Ivy didn’t bother to close. She’s never did close that window, she isn’t sure it could even be closed anymore, but she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t mind the rain or the wind, she barely even shivers anymore as another gust of wind breezes through the room and rattles the ancient windows and doors.

The house is complaining about the storm, as it always does. When she was little, Ivy actually imagined it gossiping about the weather, in posh English accent. So horrible today, isn’t it?

She doesn’t do that anymore. Now, she sits curled up with a book that’d make an Auradonian princess choke on her own spit, and clinks ice in her glass.

…Yes,it is slightly too cold for ice, but Ivy wants her whiskey on rocks, you know?

Besides, she likes how the glass burns at her fingertips, ever so contrasting to the alcohol itself.

She flips the page and sighs as she realises she hasn’t the faintest idea what she just read. Really, this thing can get so boring in some passages – she’ll need to get a new one from Dulcia.

She sighs again and stares at the blank wall instead, contemplating her life choices or whatever.

A movement catches her eye. Tight, jerky movement where nothing should be moving but the wind, where her girlfriend is supposed to be asleep.

She’s not asleep, she’s sitting up with her knees brought up to her chest, having drawn up her hands to her ears just now, and Ivy really should have noticed sooner.

She stares at the girl, sucking at her cheek as she tries to find words of comfort that she can actually say – not that she cares for the Isle societal norms all that much, but she <i>is</i> a Villain.

Claudine catches her staring.

„Ivy–“ she breathes out, lowering her hands to her lap – back to her crucifix.

„Ivy,“ she says again before abruptly clambering from the bed.

„What’s it, sweetheart?“ Ivy asks and lowers her feet to the floor just as the girl comes to a halt before her and sits on her heels in front of the loveseat. From here close, Ivy can see the tears shining in her eyes – if she had a heart, it’d break a little.

„He is mad at me,“ Claudine whispers, confesses, as she takes Ivy’s hand into hers, holding on desperately. Ivy lets her.

„Who is mad at you, love?“

„He,“ Claudine says with as much emphasis as she can, „He sends storms to punish sinners and purge the earth of those unworthy of His love. He is mad at me, Ivy.“

Now, Ivy is starting to understand – well, more than anything, she’s understanding how much she’d love to kill dear old Judge Frollo, if he wasn’t already dead.

She’d make him suffer, for what he did to her.

But for the moment, she rises and takes Claudine with her, drawing her into a hug. Ivy can feel her trembling still, as she mutters: „Are you afraid of the storm, sweet thing?“

Claudine just nods mutely into her shoulder.

Ivy hums, just to fill the silence, and strokes her hair. Then she pulls away – just for a moment, just to grab her book again, for she never did put down her glass – and says: „Can you carry this for me? We’re gonna go somewhere where we can’t hear the storm.“

She waits for an answer, as patiently as she can, and Claudine takes the book, which is as good as it’s gonna get. Ivy kisses her cheek and leaves a mark, which she doesn’t care about, and offers her her arm as she leads the way through the labyrinth that is Hell Hall.

She navigates the dark halls she grew up in with ease, though, until they walk to a salon near the heart of the Vila. Much too close to her Auntie, in normal circumstances, but the storm doesn’t reach here.

Ivy stands down her glass now, and flickers her lighter few times before she lights the oil lamp by the sofa and the warm light shines around the room. She sinks into the pillows and waves Claudine over,  pulls her down, as she girl seems unwilling to do anything on her own accord.

„No one is mad at you, I promise,“ says Ivy, because it seems like the right thing to say.

She doesn’t know if she’s lying.

„I promise,“ she repeats anyway.

„But how can you know?“ whispers Claudine so quietly that Ivy can hear because she’s oh-so-close.

„I’m not mad at you,“ she says, as if that explained everything, which, really, it should.

„No one’s mad at you, you’re far too precious for that.“

She pulls away Claudine’s head a bit, just enough to kiss by the corner of her eye.

She can taste the salt of her tears.

„You think?“ Claudine breathes out. She’s not trembling anymore, not so tense, no. She’s almost relaxed in Ivy’s arms.

„Yeah.“

She lets her lie down, curled up next to her, and hopefully fall asleep now.

[notabuddhist]

good morning from my room in my rents' house where i relocated to after 11pm with the help of my sister because i absolutely flipped my shit when i heard something scurrying across the floor of my room last night.

[insertsickusername13]

I'll be leaving to live in the woods for four days with no internet or phone so you know what I want to happen in the bmc fandom while I'm gone? Detailed headcanons about Rich's tattoos. Fanfics about Rich's tattoos. Drawings of Rich's tattoos. Are they real or does he draw them on? What are they of? Does he get some redone after the fire (I'm assuming most were ruined by the burns)? Does Jake help pick them out? Are they meaningful or is he one of those people that tattoos memes all over his body for no reason? Are they words or designs? Small or extravagant? Colored? I obviously do not care what they looked like in canon. I want the fandom to make a detailed exhibit of what they are because. fandom shit is better than canon. I want an entire subsection of tumblr dedicated to this cause. I need it.

[desperatepleasures]

ah and now I'm having a mental breakdown over losing a tack. ain't that just the way

[theworstcreature]

Why did I agree to go Black Friday shopping with my family

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Man I love Care Bears.

[halfdeadfriedrice]

best thing about homestuck's availability on the web being shot to absolute garbage due to corporate disinterest is that, thank god, i cannot read it at work.

[pepprs]

no bc seriouslt also like following up from the last post. i did not move out this year and that was my biggest goal and i didn’t do it and that fucking sucks. ive made some progress but i don’t know what im doing or if im actually ready. but the fact that this new room is going to be created downstairs… like every day i think of it. a brand new bedroom that’s never existed and it will have a door directly to the outside which is scary. but it can be MY BEDROOM and i can decorate it however i like without adhering to campus rules and it can be a temporary transitional space and then i can move out in like the summer or something when i have more time and im normaler. and seeing the room get built is insane and im so nervous and distressed abt the renovation even happening but i am also so hopeful and excited about this room and finally having enough space to like figure myself out and then go get more space for myself