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tangerineastronaut · 3 months ago

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heavy ♥ s.mingi

You're so very sorry.

Pairing: Mingi x Fem!Reader Genre: smut. just pure smut. slight fluff at the end, 99% smut. Requested: No w.c. 3.9k Warnings: Everything is consensual - rough sex, dirty talk and more dirty talk, choking/breathplay, deep throating, name calling, degradation, slight talk of somno, Mingi seems like an asshole, sort of noncon but not really, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, reader doesn't talk much during, established relationship If you notice other potentially triggering content please let me know so I can add it. A/N: I...I have no excuses. Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

“Mingi, I-I‘m sorry—”

“You fucking will be.”

You struggled with the key to unlock the door; he was bearing down on you, already grinding against your ass, but that was your fault, wasn’t it?

You thought it’d be cute to tease him—

> Might’ve forgotten my panties…wish you were inside me.

—but the look he’d given you after opening his phone…the way his jaw ticked, how he’d tugged at the crotch of his jeans. You knew you’d fucked up.

Finally, it opened, though you almost wished it hadn’t. Mingi grabbed your arm and slammed the door, throwing you against it.

“Wanna say it again?” he asks, one hand moving to your throat. He towers over you, plump lips forming a half snarl. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him. You whimper, the sound dying into a squeak as he puts pressure on your trachea with his thumb. “Say it. I love when you do. It’s easier to fuck that pretty face when I’m mad at it.”

“I-I…” you begin with a choked sob. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”

Mingi curses, shoving you to your knees with his heavy grip. When he took his hand off your throat, you began taking deep breaths—it’d be a while before you weren’t gasping for air anymore. You glance up.

His dark eyes were half lidded, never leaving you as he worked at his jeans. You swallowed, an instinctual response to the sound of the button popping and zipper going down.

“Open that slutty fucking mouth, baby. Wanna see you drool,” he orders. You open your mouth and keep it open. It’s like muscle memory; you can already taste him.

Mingi pushes the material down his thighs, stopping half way. His spandex boxers go next, the snap of elastic making you jump. When his cock is freed, it springs into your face, already swollen and ready to be sucked and fucked.

That was your fault.

“Don’t look so fucking surprised, y/n,” Mingi says, one large hand fisting your hair and the other gripping his cock. “Wanna send me filthy texts during dinner? Hm? Tell me you’re not wearing panties? Did you think I wouldn’t make you choke on this fucking dick?”

You whimper, feeling drool beginning to leak down your chin. Mingi smirks, rubbing the thick head into your spit.

“Say it, baby. Say it again.”

You sniffle, eyes burning. Mingi is unrelenting, gently bumping your head back against the door.

“Say it for me, princess. Love that pretty mouth,” he coos in a deceptively smooth tone. You knew better; he was baiting you. You were nothing more than prey to him right now. “Please? One more time for me, be good just this fucking once.”

“I’m sor—”

The minute you try to speak, Mingi forces his cock inside. His hips thrust forward, pinning you against the door and stretching your lips open. He wants to fit it all in one go, to push the head into the back of your throat. When you gag, he grins.

Your hands go to his hips, shoving, as if that’d do anything. He moved his hand to get a better grip on your hair, tilting your head back.

“Mmn…hold still, pretty. Gonna use that mouth,” he growls. You dig your nails into his thighs, making him hiss, but that doesn’t stop him from beginning to fuck. In and out, in and out, his cock stretches your throat, giving you seconds to breathe between thrusts.

Mingi fucks your face until your gagging becomes more violent, pulling out in time to watch you cough and drool on yourself. He still had a tight grip on your hair, and the other went to his cock, now slick with your saliva.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he hums, stroking himself. It’s somehow menacing, the way his thumb rubs over the head. A threat. “You look scared.”

“I won’t do it again,” you whine softly, swallowing down a mix of spit and precum. “P-Promise.”

Mingi stares down at you until you squirm. He suddenly kneels down and you flinch, though he yanks you forward by your hair.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, kissing the wet corner of your mouth. “You have ten different ways, baby. Half of them don’t need words. Tell me to stop treating you like a whore.”

Fuck.

You swallow, nails digging into your palms. Your cheeks flush red from shame and Mingi chuckles. He knew you wouldn't, that you know the signals, the ones you'd agreed on when someone decided it was too much, words and taps and gestures.

He was rubbing it in your face—just how much of a fuckdoll you turned into for him.

“No? Don’t tell me you like being treated like this,” he taunts you, a look of faux concern on his gorgeous face. “Nothing but a pretty collection of warm holes for me to choose from. I’ve got plans for you and this cock, baby. Gonna make you suck it some more, then it’s gonna go in that needy little hole between your legs. It’s not coming out of there until you’ve taken every drop of cum from me. Tell me not to do it, baby.”

When you don’t answer, refusing to look at him, Mingi yanks your face toward him with your hair. He forces his mouth over yours, groaning into you as his tongue slips inside. You feel hot tears rolling down your cheeks as he takes from you, rubbing his cock against your exposed thigh beneath your dress. He sucks and licks and nips the soft flesh of your mouth and tongue, holding you open by the jaw.

Mingi sucks your lower lip and bites it, making you squeak. He laughs and finally releases you, only for you to fall back against the door.

Strings of drool stretch between you, and you shudder when he licks his lips. But the sensuality is dampened as he stands to his full height, gripping his fat cock and staring down at you.

“Open wide, babygirl. That’s it…fuck yes. Stop moving, baby. Just take it. If I feel teeth, 'm gonna make it hurt, yeah?"

Your throat is numb.

Your jaw aches, your fingers are curled into the carpet, but your eyes haven’t left him. He’s standing over you as he’s been doing for the past half hour, though now both of his hands hold your head in place for him. They’re so fucking big, gripping tight as he uses your mouth like a fleshlight. When you’re lucky, you see him bite his lip and whisper that he loves you; otherwise he’s got his head tilted back, chest heaving as he fucks into your mouth.

“That’s it, so fucking dirty,” Mingi groans, hissing as your teeth catch on his massive cock. “I should make you choke on my cum, baby. Should hold that pretty head down until I pump it right down your throat. Feed you like a fucking whore.”

Your dress is soaked in spit and precum, as it’s been dripping down your chin. You consider pulling it off, but you don’t want to expedite his plans for you. So you sit there in your ruined dress, letting the love of your life abuse your throat over and over.

Mingi looks down at you, thumb brushing over your lips where they’re stretched open, forced by his cock. He bites his lip, cursing under his breath.

“Say it again, baby.”

“Nnh…” you choke around him. He licks his lips and nods, so you do your best to please him. “Nnhn…nnh…”

Your eyes are wet with tears; drool leaks out around his cock, and you helplessly swallow as you try to speak with the obstruction in your mouth. Mingi watches as though enthralled, nodding the more you choke on words.

“Nnh…”

You finally give up when you splutter with a sob.

Mingi pauses and growls. He throws an arm against the door, taking the other hand off your face as he pulls out. You quickly gasp for air before he begins thrusting again.

Without his hands keeping you steady, your head hits against the door repeatedly. Mingi slides his hand behind your head, fisting your hair once again, then leans forward until there’s no space left between him, you, and the surface behind you. Each thrust is less than a few centimeters as he grinds against your esophagus. You weakly cry until he decides he’s had enough, stuffing himself down your throat for a few seconds before yanking it out. You gasp and fall onto your hands and knees, heaving for air.

Your throat feels raw, your cheeks are wet, your knees ache from sitting on them for so long, but Mingi pulls at you as though impatient.

You expect him to carry you to the bedroom, probably throw you on the bed, but while you catch your breath you feel his hand on the back of your head.

“M-Ming—”

“Stick that fucking ass up,” he grunts, shoving your face into the carpet. Your cries are muffled against the plush surface as he holds your head down.

Where you expect to feel his cock, you instead feel his tongue lick between your sticky cunt lips. You jolt, only for him to chuckle. He says nothing else before burying his face in your pussy.

You release a loud cry, your hips wriggling from the sensitivity as he sucks your clit into his mouth without waiting. You whine and gasp, fisting the carpet as you moan against it.

Mingi lets go of your hair only to hug your ass against his face. He sucks and licks, mouthing at your labia and lapping at your slit like candy. He groans and rubs his face between your legs, plush lips feeling like heaven as he french kisses your cunt.

When he suckles your clit again, you squeak, mouth falling open. He groans and teases the bundle of his nerves in his warm mouth, tongue sliding below the hood until you’re twitching from the overstimulation. He releases it only to lick up and down your vulva repeatedly, as though savoring a popsicle.

“Say something, baby. Tell me how it feels,” he says, slurping and smacking his lips. He moans before diving in again, throat working as he swallows your sweet juices. You shudder, licking your lips from where your front half is flopped against the carpet.

“Mm. G-good,” you mumble. Mingi smacks your ass so hard you cry out.

“Fuck, that’s right. Such a juicy cunt,” he murmurs, hands moving to your thighs. He grabs your ass and uses his thumbs to pull apart your pussy. You hear him suck a finger into his mouth before it prods at your hole, making you clench around nothing.

“Don’t pretend like I haven’t seen this pussy swallow all eight inches of me, baby. Gonna fuck up this little hole until you can’t sit right.”

You whine and jump when he begins sliding his index finger inside, long and firm, though not enough. Your pussy flutters and Mingi moans, thrusting his cock against your thigh.

“Got me rutting like a fucking dog after a bitch in heat,” he growls, roughly smacking your ass. “Put those legs together. Gonna use all of you.”

You do as he asks, a little dizzy as you shuffle to close your legs, ass still in the air. His finger begins steadily pumping into you, though you feel something slick and hard wedging itself between your thighs.

“Mmn…fuck, love your thick fucking thighs baby, takes my cock almost as good as your filthy little cunt,” Mingi groans, hooking the finger inside you. You yelp, and he does it again, and again, roughly poking the inner bundle of nerves. Each time you move, you grind on his cock, your thighs giving him a tight squeeze to fuck into.

You begin pushing back on his finger, so he adds another. The stretch is good, but nothing like what he’ll feel like when he’s inside you.

“Look at you,” he groans, watching as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers. He squeezes in a third and you moan, ass lazily bouncing against his knuckles. “My nasty little girl. Always wants to act so sweet, you just want me to climb on top and pick a hole to use, right?”

“Mmnn…” you mumble, feeling the pad of his finger stroke your inner walls. You were getting desperate, and you hated that. Desperate you is exactly why Mingi gets like this—he knows you.

“I love playing with this one, like how you scream and beg me to put something in that needy cunt at the same time,” he hums. His thumb rubs over your asshole, and you feel the tight ring of muscle respond to his touch. He chuckles quietly, leaning over you, fingers still fucking into you. “I think I’m gonna use my pretty girl’s pussy. See how she takes it when I fuck her like the horny bitch she is.”

“Mingi,” you whine, currently the only word in your sex-dumb vocabulary. He sighs, pulling his fingers out. You shiver at the cold emptiness, but then your boyfriend is suddenly getting ready to fuck you on the floor of your entryway.

“Bedroom?” you manage to ask, but a firm hand on the back of your neck silences you by smothering your face into the carpet.

“You think you deserve a soft bed right now?” Mingi asks darkly. You hear shuffling; he slips off his jeans and tosses them to the side. When you try to look back at him where he’s unbuttoning his shirt, he smacks your ass, nearly sending you rolling to your side.

“The bed is where I fuck my good girl,” he says, pulling you back against his hips. He nudges his cock between your thighs again, thrusting once, hard, and you feel the tip of his cock poking your lower belly. “You’re my bad girl, my little whore who’s desperate for this cock. You’re gonna get fucked right here in the floor.”

You moan softly, and Mingi peels you open again. He squeezes the flesh of your ass, toying with the way your pussy lips stretch open.

“So fucking wet, look how sloppy you are, baby. Your needy little cunt wants it,” he hums. Mingi flicks your clit, making you shudder violently; he moans in approval before sucking his fingers into his mouth.

He apparently can’t wait any longer, as he begins to mount you, pulling you beneath him with large hands gripping your waist. You try to lift your upper half, though he shoves you down again.

“Keep your fucking head down,” he growls, licking his palm and roughly jerking his cock a few times. “Don’t worry about this little cunt, baby. Just focus on staying conscious, yeah? Hate it when I have to hold you up.”

You whimper and wiggle your ass, earning another slap, though it’s not as hard as the last few. This is for a good reason, as he’s tugging you back to him.

Mingi uses one hand to grip your ass cheek, opening you up to him. He groans, gripping his cock and rubbing it up and down your lips, following the path of his tongue minutes ago. He uses two fingers to hold you open, revealing your hole—he slots his cock against it and begins to push.

You moan and arch your back, gritting your teeth at the sensation of being opened. Mingi’s cock is so fucking thick, it stretches you open deliciously. You can feel every vein, every dip in the swollen member as it slides inside of you, inch by inch. No part of your insides are left untouched.

You wince when the head nudges your cervix, though Mingi only laughs.

“You’re not done yet, baby. Open up that cunt for me,” he growls, thrusting once. You whimper as you’re thrown forward.

“H-Hurts,” you mumble, reaching back to push at his waist. Mingi grabs your arm and twists it around your back, putting pressure on you as he works himself deeper.

“I know it can fit,” he says, pushing harder. “I’ve been balls to pussy inside of you and had you begging for more. Now let me in before I make it fit. You don’t like it when I do that, remember?”

You shudder at the memories of being pinned down, Mingi’s fingers keeping your hole stretched as he wedges his cock inside, all the while telling you it’s gonna look so pretty, you being wrapped around him.

He was wrong. You loved that.

He begins rutting against you, ignoring your whines of pain as his cock somehow manages to slip further inside. It takes one last thrust before he breaks you open, and his balls are pressed tightly to your clit. You moan, able to feel him deep inside you.

“Fuuuuck,” Mingi groans, and you remember why you’re so willing to be used by him—that sound, the sound of him being buried inside his girl, caught between wanting to love her sweetly and fuck her like a whore.

“Feel it?” he asks, grabbing your hips and leaning over you. “Feel it inside, baby? Gonna split you open on this fucking cock.”

“I-I said I was sorry,” you whine. Mingi smacks your ass, this time grabbing the plump flesh and squeezing.

“You’re not sorry,” he chuckles, adjusting himself on his knees. “Not one fucking bit, y/n. You can fool every other bastard you’ve ever been with, but I know you, baby. I love you. That’s why I’m gonna fuck you up.”

Mingi saws into you relentlessly.

Your upper half is pinned to the floor as he drags you onto his cock like a broken doll. He leans over you, using his weight on your body as he grabs both of your arms, pinning them to the floor.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, hips working steadily to penetrate you. “You like to look dumb, baby. Like people to think you’re so fucking helpless. If someone saw this, saw what I’m doing to you…fuck, I’d be crucified. They’d say I’m taking advantage of a sweet girl, using her to feel good, like a pretty little cocksleeve.”

Mingi leans down, biting your shoulder until you yelp. His lips go to your ear as he grinds against your ass, his cock painfully knocking at your cervix.

“Little do they know, huh? I’d have to beg you to stop instead, beg you to let me pull out of this sopping pussy before you milk me for my fucking cum.”

You moan softly, and Mingi fists your hair. He painfully yanks you off the floor, bending you at an odd angle to lean over and kiss you. It’s wet and desperate, more tongue than lips on both ends, but he doesn’t pull away. He leaves his mouth against yours and fucks you harder, deeper, free hand gripping your waist and nailing you to the floor.

“Can I, baby?” he groans. “Can I pull out? ‘m gonna pull out unless you beg. Beg me to stay inside this little pussy and make it hurt, let me pump my cum so deep it makes you nervous.”

You whine at his words, unwilling to say much thanks to your pride. But then you feel him begin to slip out, throwing a hand back to grab his hip. Mingi laughs until you dig your nails into his ass, throwing yourself back against him until he fucking whimpers.

“Jesus fuck—”

“Don’t stop,” you plead breathlessly. “P-please, Mingi…keep going. Want you so bad.”

Mingi curses, using his knee to kick yours apart. You lose your balance and fall flat on the floor, though he curls an arm around your hips to keep you propped for him.

“Yeah?” he asks, nosing the back of your neck. “Want it that bad? Need me to keep stuffing that needy little cunt?”

“Yes,” you moan shamelessly. Mingi lies on your back, now pressing all of his weight on top of you. It’s hard to breathe, though you can tell he’s close.

“What if I fuck my load in your pretty pussy? Hm? Might put a baby or two in there,” he groans. You squeak and tilt your head back, surprised to find him right there. Your head rests against his shoulder and you bury your face against his throat.

“D-Don’t care,” you mumble. “Want it. Want you.”

“I’m gonna go deep, babygirl. Gonna make sure your slutty little body can’t stop it.”

“Yes, fuck, y-yes, Mingi…” you whimper. He curses, his chest against your back.

“G-Gonna cum, baby. Gonna put one inside you,” Mingi gasps. “You gonna take it? Make me pretty babies?”

You don’t have a chance to answer, as he suddenly groans, gripping your thighs and forcing them apart beneath him. He clumsily thrusts until he manages to snugly fit himself inside your body, head dropping against yours as he begins to cum. You feel his fat cock pulsing, pumping his sperm into you, raising a hand to his cheek.

Mingi tilts his head and kisses you, the softest kiss all night. His plump lips are gentle against yours, and you forget for a few moments that you’re pinned down in an awkward position with his cock stuffed in you.

A large hand slides beneath your bodies; before you can ask, Mingi’s thumb and index finger find your clit. He gently pinches, rolling the sensitive bud.

“F-Fuck, Mingi—”

“Want you to cum. Want that cunt to squeeze my cock ‘till there’s nothing left,” he groans against your ear. You moan as he rubs at your clit, though it’s not until he begins gently thrusting again that you feel yourself coming undone.

The minute your orgasm hits, it draws a sinful moan from Mingi as your muscles squeeze and work at his cock. You feel him try to pull out with a hiss of pain, though he’s unable to, forced to endure his sensitive cock being milked.

Serves him right, you think, wearily collapsing onto the floor. Mingi follows with a groan until you squirm, reminding him that he’s not a lapdog.

For a few minutes, the apartment is quiet aside from the heavy breathing. Mingi finally pushes himself up, nearly falling again on unsteady arms. He grabs your waist with one hand and the base of his cock with the other, gently easing out of your sore cunt. You still wince, though it’s not too bad, but he mumbles an apology anyway. He keeps his hands on your ass once he’s successfully pulled out and gently squeezes.

“Shit,” Mingi breathes. You ‘hmm’ curiously, unwilling to lift your head, but he crawls above you to lean down and kiss your cheek. “Nothing. Just like watching my cum drip out like that.”

“Gross.” You crinkle your nose.

“You okay?”

You glance up at Mingi, resisting the urge to smile. Only this boy could pin you to the floor one moment, and then look lost the next, like he’s not sure if he’s hurt you or not. The other Mingi wouldn’t care, the one who threatens to choke you and calls you a slut, that one was fun. But this one was yours, you loved this one.

“I think I’ve got carpet burn—”

“Me too,” he mumbles, looking at the redness on his forearms.

“—but I’m okay.”

“Good,” he says with a sigh. He kisses your cheek until you turn your head, letting him kiss you properly. He's careful, soft lips molding against yours and looking at you in between kisses to make sure you’re satisfied.

“I really am sorry,” you mumble against his lips. He hums softly, still kissing you. “For sending that text. I…I don’t know why I did that.”

“Please. Do not ever stop doing that,” he laughs, pinching your cheek. “That was hot as fuck.”

“Then why did you—did you have to throw me against the damn door?!” you huff, pulling back. Mingi sheepishly smiles, nosing at your cheek. You roll your eyes.

“You liked it,” he sings. You pout.

You liked it.

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writesvani · 2 months ago

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dear me — jeon jungkook

lawyer! jeonjungkook x privatechef! reader

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

comment here for Dear Me taglist;

find Dear Me on wattpad!

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: angst, fluff, smut (all characters are of age), YEARNING, explicit language, pinning, misunderstandings, forbidden love, JK being torn (but so is Y/n), this is NOT a cheating fic, arguing, cursing, substance use (alcohol & cigarettes), nostalgia, happy ending (probably)

word count: 39,6k & more coming soon!

ꪆchapter index୧

— chapter one: Me VS. Me

— chapter two: It's you – well me again, UGH

— chapter three: Saturdays are for Yoongi

— chapter four: The House

— chapter five: Us & immaturity

— chapter six: The Orbits

— chapter seven: The Family Games: May the Pettiest Win

— chapter eight: Fifteen Years and a Pinky

& more soon!

ꪆdrabbles + extras୧

— dear me moodboard

— i'm gonna be his wife; (pending...)

— the way we were; JK's pov (pending...)

— the egg yolk incident; (pending...)

the drabbles in this story are part of the DearMeVerse, so i highly recommend reading them to get a deeper understanding of the plot. as the story unfolds, new drabbles will unlock, and they’re designed to enhance the experience. i suggest reading the chapters in order, and in the author’s notes, i’ll let you know when’s the best time to dive into each drabble, as they’ll be posted after certain chapters.

but don’t worry — reading the drabbles isn’t a MUST. they won’t change the story, but they’ll add extra layers to it, helping you connect with the narrative in a more meaningful way.

DISCLAIMER:

I do not own Jeon Jungkook, BTS, or any of the real people mentioned in this story. They belong to themselves — and as much as I'd love to claim them as my own, I am not that lucky. This is purely a work of fiction, written by a fan who enjoys imagining what could happen if their lives were a bit more dramatic and a lot more fictional. Any resemblance to real-life events is purely coincidental, unless it involves them being cute, in which case, I’ll take credit for that part. This story is just for fun, and no harm was intended in its creation. Please don’t sue me, I promise I’m just here for the fic!

all works published here are created by me (@writesvani on tumblr). i own all rights to my original works, including any written content, original characters, and plotlines. copying, redistributing, translating, or posting my works on any other social media without my explicit permission is strictly prohibited. all rights reserved.

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heartless-tate · 1 year ago

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Notice Me! | Part two | Azriel X Freader

Azriel x Freader | Part one

Summary: Azriel courting oblivi reader

a/n; Heyy! This is the last part guys! Hope you enjoy 🤗 also I really recommend looking up the meaning of the flowers after you read. 💕

content/trigger warnings; food, cussing, kissing, one or two use y/n, no smut BUT some lust and hints to masturbation, Azriel pining, Cassian being sassy, FEM reader (if you’d like me to make a another post with male reader, message me!) she/her pronouns for reader, rain mention and I think that’s it. If I missed something, feel free to message me on it!💗

You are in a warm bath, infused with the scent of essential oils, a perfect remedy to the grime from your training. You shake the thought out of your head, cursing yourself. Azriel didn’t like you like that. Cassian kisses Feyre on the cheek all the time, so why did it mean anything different if he kissed you? It didn’t mean anything different. But still, ever since he had left for his mission you found yourself running your fingers over your cheek.

It felt as though your skin was ablaze, heat gathering in your thighs. You abruptly reached towards them, water splashing. Halting yourself, you felt a surge of guilt and shame. If Azriel knew what you were thinking, he'd avoid your gaze forever. The thought made you feel sick. You groaned aloud, resting your head against the edge of the tub. You longed for him, missed his enticing cooking and physique. No, just his cooking. You chastised yourself again. Bad thoughts!

Goosebumps arose on your skin. The water had become ice cold. You rose from the water, letting the air chill your skin. Your nipples hardened, and you wondered if it was from your imagination or the cold air. You quickly leaped from the tub, landing on the mat. You wrapped your towel around your body after drying your wet hair.

Your bare feet padded against the floor as you walked out of the bathroom, letting the house magic take care of the leftover water. Your room felt warmer upon entering, soothing you. The room smelt like musk and bourbon. Like Azriel almost. You shivered with delight, stepping to your vanity. You reached for your hair brush, looking into the mirror only to be met with horror.

You yelped in shock, turning to face the shadowsinger. He sat on your bed, holding one of your books. His wings were spread lazily on your covers. He huffed a laugh at your reaction, grinning. “That’s certainly not the welcoming I was expecting.” He concurred smugly.

“Azriel..” You muttered. He was early. And you hadn’t expected him to be here. “How long have you been back?” you asked. He smiled.

“I’ve been here for fifteen minutes waiting for you to get out of,” he paused, his eyes trailing down to your body, “your bath..”

You felt your face heat, suddenly realizing you wore nothing but a small towel. Your body was glistening wet. He looked you back in the eyes with a small smirk.

“Oh cauldron!” You squeaked, wrapping your arms around your body more tightly. He laughed, heartily. Azriel shook his head before standing. He laid your book down and with embarrassment you realized it was one of your more smuttier books. And by that you mean it was pure porn. There was nothing more embarrassing about this situation. He smirked at you again, before taking a few steps towards you. You notice there are fresh flowers on your nightstand now. It was a bouquet of red and pink flowers you hadn't seen before. You’d have to look them up in your flower guide.

“I have a training session where I plan on beating Cas’s ass, but I wanted to see you first. We’ll have lunch in around two hours, okay?” He demanded gently. You nodded shyly, unable to think of a coherent response. He smiled, pleased. He walked forward, and you hoped he would kiss you again. Just not on the cheek. But alas, he pulled you in a hug, his warm muscly body a hard contrast to your cold one. Your right hand held your towel in place, while your left wrapped around him. He shivered, and you figured it was due to your wet hair?

Azriel let go quickly and abruptly and you wondered if you did something wrong. He smiled tightly. “See you in two hours, love.” He whispered affectionately before turning and taking flight from your balcony.

He left you standing there, wet all over, confused, warm, and also shivering. You still couldn’t wrap your head around this feeling you had.

After you changed into a tank top and shorts you approached the flowers on your nightstand. They were gorgeous. You bit your lip as you grabbed a flower guide book, ready to find what type of flowers they were.

They were pink bluebells and red chrysanthemums.

A beautiful sandwich filled with all your favorite toppings, sat in front of you. Courtesy to Azriel. You sighed, wondering if you’d ever be as good as a cook Azriel was. It was truly a hidden talent of his. There wasn’t something he couldn’t fix.

A warm leathery wing brushed on your bare shoulder as he passed by. He sat his food down beside yours before pulling out a chair and setting it directly by yours. It was now lunch time. Both Cassian and Azriel were sweaty muscly messes. Their skin glistened with pure sweat. And you wondered how Azriel still managed to smell like a god still. After you left your room, you spent some time enjoying the morning breeze and relaxing. When it came time for lunch, you walked to the dining area. Azriel was waiting for you in the kitchen where he made your sandwich and a drink for you. Every detail of it was to your liking.

Cassian, of course, stood in the corner complaining about Azriel never fixing him sandwiches. Azriel had knocked him in the face with his wing, shutting him up. Cassian stayed in the kitchen, munching on some snacks. He feigned not paying attention to you nor Azriel.

Both of your chairs were back less, as to accommodate for wings. Sure, your skin felt a little chilly in the air due to your tank top. But Azriel’s wing, warm from training in the sun, stayed on your back. It was comforting. Like a blanket that's been sitting by a cozy fireplace.

Azriel pushed the plate towards you again, motioning for you to start eating. When you started, and he was sure you were satisfied with the taste, he started eating his too. And, of course, everything tasted perfect. When you both finished, the house took care of the plates. Cassian and Nesta had joined at the other end of the table, talking to each other as they ate. You caught yourself admiring them- the love they had. That you felt you would never have. They bickered, sure. But they were so in love. You couldn’t help but envy them. If only a guy loved you like that.

Your thoughts broke when Azriel started talking. He had a soft smile as he told you of his mission. Apparently the queens were doing okay and hadn’t been stirring up trouble, so he was able to leave early.

“You didn’t starve while I was away did you? Next time I’ll drag you with me so I can actually focus on my mission.” He muttered running his hands through his hair. Azriel always spoke softly unless angry. Or at least you had never heard him get loud. You didn’t catch Cassian and Nesta smirking at you both. Nesta couldn’t help but snort to herself. You were so oblivious. You didn’t even seem to notice Azriel only ran his mouth like this when around you. He seemed so open with you and comfortable.

“Of course I didn’t starve- wait, why couldn’t you focus on your mission?” You inquired, confused.

“Ah- No reason, dear.” He responded. His pet name went over your head. Azriel bit his lower lip, staring at you with intent eyes. He couldn’t help but feel amused by your blatant obliviousness. Your eyes went to where Cassian sat across from you with his eyes closed, kissing and smacking his lips, like he was making out with the air. Your eyebrows furrowed at the weirdness until he stopped and pointed at Azriel, then you. Nesta slapped him and he realized he had been caught. You were about to question his weird antics before a wing blocked your sight towards them.

You turned to where Azriel had gotten closer. He used his wing to make sure ALL of your attention was on him.“I have to go meet with Rhys soon. But when I get back, we need to talk.” He said sternly. His eyes were hardened and your face dropped. Did you do something wrong? He noticed the look and smiled softly to reassure you.

“Wait for me here?” He asked. And you nodded, still nervous. Your hands came together to fiddle awkwardly but Azriel’s hands laid on top of yours. He lifted your hands and kissed the top of both of them. You blushed at the intimacy. He lifted his head, and ran a hand through his hair.

He stood, still holding your hand with one of his. The room had gone quiet. Like it was just you and him. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You felt the heat and softness of his lips as they pressed to your head. Your bottom lip quivered as you looked shyly to the floor. What was happening? You didn’t even know anymore. Your body didn’t feel like it was yours anymore.

He stood and winked at you playfully before heading to the balcony and once again spreading those giant wings and shooting into the air. You sighed to yourself before realizing that Cassian and Nesta were both staring at you. Cassian sighed and looked to Nesta.

“I’ll bet you 80 gold coins-“ he started, but Nesta slapped a hand on his mouth so he couldn’t finish. She smiled at you before grabbing Cassian and leaving you alone in the room, deep in your thoughts.

Rhysand’s office was warmer then the rest of his house today. Azriel was filling him in on his recent mission. And to his distaste, that meant he had to be away from you. He didn't care that he’d be back within a few hours, he had already suffered during his mission. Being away from you- not being able to smell you on his clothes anymore, distressed him more then he cared to admit. He remembers worrying if you had ate, or if you forgot to eat again. His wings bristled at the memory. Upon coming back to you, he couldn't be bothered to care you had just got out of the bath. He thanked the Mother for blessing him with such good timing. You were so god damn beautiful, and if that towel had dropped- Azriel wouldn’t have left that room for a good fucking long while.

He had been too excited to even care that you were wet and only in a towel, he just had to hug you. But he didn't expect to feel his cock stiffen. He couldn’t help it, your body in his arms felt so good. You were so fucking pretty, it hurt. Azriel was embarrassed that he lost control of his own body. He planned on holding you for longer, but when your hand wrapped around his back, it brushed that sensitive part of his wing, sending a jolt to his dick. He had to rip away before you felt the growing hardness in his pants, and he felt so bad seeing your face of confusion. You hadn’t meant too. And you looked so hurt and you didn't even know what your had done. He cursed his body hating his lack of control, but didn't want you to think he was a creep so he left early to take care of himself.

“Az? Are you listening?”

Azriel snapped out of his thoughts and turned back to where his brother sat. Rhysand sighed and shook his head before repeating himself.

“I was asking if you could run to Velaris and pick up some medicine from Madja? Feyre has been having some headaches.”

Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed and he contemplated. Of course, he loved his high lady and didn’t want her to be in pain. But he wanted to get back to you fast. He needed your presence. Soon. Before he lost his mind. “Can’t you just winnow yourself? It’d be a lot faster then me having to fly.” He proposed.

Rhysand bristled slightly at Azriel’s slight coldness. He knew his brother, and knew he didn't mean it personally. Rhysand smirked. “Cassian warned me of this.”

“Warned you of what?” Azriel asked. ”He told me you get extremely pissy whenever you’ve been away from her for too long.” Rhysand spoke, with a knowing smile.

Azriel knew he was talking of you. His eyebrows furrowed and scowled at his brother before huffing. Before he could reply Rhys continued.

“It’s alright, we get it. Cas and I have both been through it with our mates.” Azriel didn’t respond this time. He shook his head with a slight growl. How come everyone could see his affection for you- but you? It was infuriating! He hoped maybe kissing your cheek would make you magically realize he had loved you, but it didn’t. Cauldron! How much more obvious does he need to make it?

Rhys dismissed him with his signature smirk, the all knowing bastard too smug for Azriel’s liking tonight.

Azriel wasn’t back yet. And the sun had already set, leaving it dark outside. You wondered what was taking him so long to tell Rhys of his mission. In reality you were more worried of what he wanted to talk about. You currently sat by the fireplace in your room, letting the heat warm your body. You had left the balcony doors open, assuming Azriel would fly through there.

You had two candles burning, and a book open in your hands. The sound of pitter patter against the marble floors distracted you from your book. You turned your head to the balcony doors and sighed, seeing it was raining. the water was getting on your floor. You grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and wiped the water from the floor. You closed the door to the balcony, but leaving it unlocked for him.

You turned around, noticing the flowers. You smiled joyfully. It was nice always having a pair of fresh flowers, thanks to Azriel.

“Pay more attention.”

You remembered Mor’s words. What were you suppose to pay attention to? You had already dissected every single memory you had of Azriel, but you coulnd’t find anything in your mind that was out of the ordinary. You sighed, rubbing your temples. Nothing made sense anymore. You ran a hand through your hair, stressed.

You looked around the room before your eyes found the flowers again. You remembered Azriel giving you a book that had the meanings flowers last Starfall. Your eyes snapped to the floating bookshelf Azriel has installed in your room two years ago. You quickly approached it, running your fingers across the titles until you found the right one. You pulled the book out, grazing the cover with your fingertips.

You sat by the fireplace, flipping through until you found the flowers you were looking for.

A whooshing sound came from your balcony, prompting you to close the book and stand, walking to your nightstand and laying it down. You turned to the door of the balcony, watching it open. Azriel stepped in, hair wet from rain. Water dripped from his body onto your floor. He wanted slightly eyes latching onto yours. He held a small pink box that he had managed to keep dry. You briefly wondered what it was until he started to walk towards you. Determination was in his eyes as he walked fast, in front of you within seconds. He licked his lips, looking at your eyes.

Everything froze, and it was just you and him. Standing there. His eyes were dilated and filled with affection now. You didn’t notice him setting the box on your nightstand, never breaking eye contact. His eyes flicked down to your lips, before looking back up. You felt the tension in the room. His eyes seemed to glow more tonight. Brighter than the fire.

You looked back to where the flowers were and then back back to him.

“Why did you give me pink bluebells and red chrysanthemums?” You asked, you voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel cocked his head to the side, studying you. His shadows whirl around, some coming to play with your hair. The tendrils swirl gently around you.

“Why do you think I gave them to you?” He responded. His voice was roughed, but gentle. You looked away to the floor and shrugged, feeling shy under his unwavering stare.

“Answer me.”

You felt a hand on your chin, turning your face back to his. His thumb rubbed mindlessly at your jaw.

“I don’t know..” You replied. He was closer now, you could feel his breath against your face. It was minty and fresh.

“Fucking hell y/n.” He groaned, grabbing your hips and gently pushing you to sit on the edge of the bed. He dropped to his knees in front of you, head bowed. He looked as if he was saying a prayer, his head bowed in your lap. His wings were draped across the floor, and he was muttering something to himself. He held your knees, and when he looked back up to you his eyes were teary.

“Azriel-“ you started, only for him to cut you off.

“What am I doing wrong? Have I not made it painfully clear? I would tie my wings behind my back and jump off this roof if you asked me too. I would do anything,” He sniffled, “anything for you. But you don’t even realize. What am I doing wrong?” You saw tears beginning to form in his eyes. Confusion filled every ounce of your soul. What did he mean?

“I would jump off for you too-“

“No! You don’t get it!” He rose, cupping your face with his hands. A pleading look was in his eyes. “Look at me! Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel it here?” His hand came to lay where your heart would be. Your felt it beating crazily. What did he mean?

Azriel closed his eyes, sending a silent prayer to the mother. He opened them again.

“Just notice it y/n. Notice it- Notice me. Please..” he whispered. You wanted to scream you loved him suddenly, but he probably doesn’t mean this like that. This is probably some dumb prank he and his brothers came up with again.

His forehead rested against yours now, and you gasped as you felt something tugging on your heart. Like gold threads weaving together. It felt as if someone had tied Azriel to you. Shadows whirled crazily around you both now. Your hand came to rest over his trying to decipher this feeling in your heart. His eyes peered into yours. And he closed them as he moved his head and pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, even if you don’t return it.” He croaked, defeatedly. His eyes opened and watched you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at your chest and then back to him.

He let out a grunt of surprise when you smashed your lips against his. Azriel wondered if this was real. Staying still, as if not to scare you away. When he realized it was real- and you were kissing him he melted. He kissed you back gently and meaningful. It was everything you had ever wanted you realized. Why hadn’t you noticed sooner? You could’ve been kissing this muscly man a lot sooner. Only did you detach yourself when you needed air. Both of your foreheads touched, and you both panted for air.

“Mate.” You whispered to him. He smiled, thanking the mother you had finally felt the bond. He nodded in response.

“Mate.” He replied. He nudged you back against the sheets, gently letting your body plop on the bed.

“But I have loved you long before I found out we were mates.” He muttered, his wings flaring slightly. He climbed on top of you, straddling your hips.

You nodded. “I loved you too- but I just thought that, I wasn’t the girl you’d ever wanna be with.”

“I’ve fucking craved you ever since I met you. And that won’t stop, ever. I swear, you’re the most oblivious girl I’ve ever met.” He said. His eyes weren’t wet anymore. It calmed you, seeing him calmer. The shadows were slowly and lazily playing with your hair again. You peered into Azriel’s eyes and thought back to every single memory you and him had, and realized it was all love. You were too oblivious to realize it. He slowly leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, wings covering you both. You kissed him back with a fever you couldn’t stop anymore.

After a few minutes, he crawled off of you and stood. You rose, propping yourself up. He handed you the pink box.

“I stopped by your favorite bakery and got you a cupcake.” Azriel spoke. The cupcake inside was big- almost two times bigger then your hand. And it was your favorite flavor. Your eyes softened at the kindness. You looked back up to him as you lifted the cupcake towards him.

“Eat Azriel.” You whispered. His eyes darkened upon realizing you wanted to solidify the mating bond- and confirm it. He shivered but stopped himself.

“You sure you don’t want a mating ceremony-“

“Eat the fucking cupcake Azriel.”

Tag list:

@going-through-shit @amara-moonlight

@tele86 @saltedcoffeescotch @minnieoo

@fxckmiup @charlotteintumbleland

@amygdtjhddzvb

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celtrist · 7 months ago

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This was the piece that I had started before my extensive vacation (of coughing). Once again, Alastor is consistently the bane of my existence with his... well everything.

No matter! Anyway, this is something I like to call the Obsession AU. To sum it up real fast: Everyone is yandere for Alastor. I think it would just be apart of his punishment in Hell, being consistently forced into or desired in romantic/sex which he's never had much interest in. I would describe it as a dark comedy thing, but it can be as comedic or as dark as you want here. With that said, please be on guard with any mentions of darker content that treds towards a certain dead bird territory when I get a bit into how I imagine some of the characters. Again, it doesn't have to go that far if you're interested in this premise of an au and wanna focus on the more light hearted stuff, feel free.

This au is just poking a bit of fun at how everyone in the fandom wants to put Alastor in romantic situations constantly (whether it be with themselves or the other characters) despite Alastor probably being the least interested in the subject in the whole show. This is by no means a hate train or making fun of people who do enjoy shipping Alastor, it just more of a funny thing I think comes off as pretty ironic for his character and hopefully, others can enjoy that too. In this au he leans pretty much on the clear-cut side of aromantic and asexual with no interest in romantic affections at all. With that said, if you want to explore Alastor genuinely being interested in one of the other characters romantically or something similar, feel free to explore that! I can see some interesting dichotomies there. It's just within the actual "canon" of this au, he's not at all interested with that sort of thing. And just with a last final reminder to get into some character things I have in mind, some of the content mentioned does get pretty dark, particularly with Valentino but I don't think anyone's surprised there. But there might be some triggering content of the following mentioned here with characters but no crazy details really: Manipulation/Gaslighting, forced feminization, Non-con, Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning, Possessive, Drugging, Love bombing And I will be sure to give a quick warning to each character it might apply to, please feel free to let me know if I missed anything!

Rosie (Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning): Rosie has 100% poisoned Alastor before to make sure he relies on her. They started off as good friends but at some point Alastor began getting ill and Rosie offered to take care of him. This leads to Alastor staying in bed for full days, only really seeing Rosie who took care of his every need from food, clothing, washing, and so on. At some point, Alastor caught on that Rosie was putting something in his food to make him sick and he managed to escape with their friendship tarnished much to his dismay. He's often uneasy around Rosie but is upfront about his knowledge of Rosie's deeds. Rosie, in turn, acts like it is a lighthearted situation and often offers Alastor over for lunch, which he often denies. Any food he gets at his doorstep from a secret admirer or a lunchbox he finds at his seat in an overlord meeting goes straight into the trash. Alastor will still use Rosie's assets to his benefit of course, but is always careful as to what she might try to get in exchange. He has had more awkward lunches with her with his homemade meal versus the buffet she catered for the occasion, with the two gossiping like old times. Alastor is still uneasy during these times, but he also revels in the false pleasantries due to not having many others he's able to associate himself with due to the curse.

Lucifer (Controlling, Possessive, Manipulation): So I'm not 100% clear how I wanted to approach Lucifer. He and Charlie are probably the most similar I suppose? He wants Alastor as his queen (either alongside him and Lilith or only with him, he doesn't mind either way). He doesn't force him into dresses or anything, but Lucifer does consistently make doting moves and talks about how Alastor would make a good father to their children. Marriage is one of the mind and Lucifer probably gets a bit possessive with him. He also tries to guilt trip Alastor a lot, or manipulate situations in one of their arguments to get Alastor to say something he doesn't mean.

Charlie (Controlling, Possessive): Probably the most tame of everyone quite honestly. Charlie can be a bit controlling but does step off when Alastor expresses his dislike of her doing so, even if it takes a couple times. She likes doing things for him, is super affectionate, and daydreams about her, Vaggie, and Alastor all getting married. She can get pretty possessive with him, not being pleased when anybody does anything against Alastor's will or hurt him. The only exception to this rule is Vaggie, to which Charlie sees it like two cats getting along and finds it very endearing.

Vaggie (Forced Feminization, Controlling, Murder): Depending on how you look at it, Vaggie's one of the more fucked up obsessions or one of the more funnier ones. Because she's automatically inclined to like Alastor quite a bit with the curse thing but her personality doesn't jive with his for her own taste (in terms of their first meeting), she both hates and loves the guy. She's obsessed with trying to murder Alastor with traps around the hotel or outright standing over him with her spear. The hatred comes primarily from not wanting to feel the way she does about him, I guess like a fucked up tsundere if you wanna go that route. At the same token, however, she does want Alastor to be involved with both her and Charlie romantically. There's just one little problem: Vaggie has about the same amount of interest in men as she does in canon. So to sort of "fix" Alastor, she consistently tries to force him to be more feminine in clothing, offering different feminine names, and even trying to force him to get a sex change. Alastor is pretty slippery though, so it never quite works out in Vaggie's favor aside from the occasional dress or skirt being worn, which solidifies her attraction to him. Then he takes it off and looks more like a man again, and it solidifies her frustration/hatred for him.

Angel Dust (Drugging): To start, while I think Angel would love to have sex with Alastor, he 100% would not force it. Wouldn't even do touches or anything. Potentially he could just like as a coping (to be in a situation where HE'S the one in control), but that is a darker route that I don't think will be exactly true for this AU. However, he very much enjoys drugging Alastor similar to Rosie. Not only just as a bonding thing since Angel would also do the drugs WITH him, but just to get the not-quite-lucid compliments from Alastor and maybe a snuggle then and there. He wants to dote on Alastor with him drugged out in his bed saying nice things to Angel. Admittedly this one's a bit of a workshop as I just knew I didn't want Angel to be focused on sex like somebody, but wasn't sure what to do here.

Valentino(Non-con, LoveBombing): I mean... it is Valentino, what did you THINK he'd be trying to do with Alastor? There's really not much to say here, Valentino essentially tries pulling all the stops trying to get Alastor in bed while also love-bombing the hell out of him. Which really doesn't work. Valentino is pretty open with sharing Alastor, but again, does this surprise anyone? As long as he's participating in some way, he really doesn't mind.

Vox (ALL warnings): Pretty much the worst version of himself that people make him be sometimes for those darker stories in the fandom. While more interested in having an enthusiastic partner, I don't think Vox would be opposed to forcing himself onto Alastor. He consistently tries to manipulate and gaslight, while enjoying both the suffering and pleasure of Alastor. Much like Vaggie, Vox is obsessed both being in love with Alastor while also downright hating him to the core. He's possessive and likes the idea of being both sweet and heinous with Alastor. He pretty much is every other character wrapped up in one fucked up TV man. Vox acts the most well-adjusted of the characters here, but he's probably got the obsession the worst.

And of course, pretty much every other conceivable ship is up for grabs here. I did think about maybe unfallen angels are able to resist the obsession curse, which would possibly make a funny team-up of Alastor, Adam, Lute, and Emily. Alternatively, I thought maybe the other canonically asexual characters in the show wouldn't be affected instead, meaning another oddball team-up of Alastor, Octavia, and Mammon. Then there is of course the "nope, there's no escape for deer man". Not sure yet, maybe I'll workshop it. I have more normal things in the works rather than this messed up little au, but darker content is a guilty pleasure of mine.

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

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What Goes Around, Comes Around

prompt: ( requested ) Billy's known for his temper and being obsessed with his pretty little girlfriend - which gets her severely injured by his past transgressions.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!cheerleader!reader -> reader and Billy are both 18+, seniors in high school

word count: 6.7k+

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

note: you're a liar if you didn't immediately start singing Justin Timberlake's "What Goes Around... Comes Around".

warnings: remember there are different responses to trauma! some people shut down, stop talking; others jabber and chatter nervously. reader is the latter. we got angst, we got literal hurt and comfort, established relationship. term "going postal" is used, cursing, technically underage drinking, not edited, author mildly gave up at the end. triggering content: depictions of physical violence, depictions of injury and blood, depiction of abuse, violent plots, Billy's girl gets physically assaulted (but it's minimally detailed).

DO NOT read if this content can potentially trigger you. you are NOT missing anything, you will miss NOTHING by skipping this, but i do try to keep the details as neutral as possible. again, prioritize yourself, mental health, and emotional state - this ain't worth the read if it's gonna upset you, i promise. author loves you all

"That's fucking her, I swear to God."

"You sure?"

"100%. That's Billy's little bitch he's obsessed with."

The three guys smirked at one another, eyeing you across the living room as you giggled and drank with a few friends in adorable, fashion forward outfits. Someone started a game of beer pong, you on the sidelines to cheer, giving them a full-show of your form.

"She's hot," Jake mused. "I can see why he keeps her so close."

"Nah, not tonight," Lawrence frowned, "heard they got in some huge fight at school. Like, she walked home and he sped off in his car."

"Hm, heard he's ridiculously protective of her... She must've really pissed him off," the third boy, Steven, nodded. "So, he's not here tonight?"

"Doubt it," Jake nodded.

"Go find out," Steven advised. "There, the basketball bros - one of them would know. Or a cheerleader," he eyed the crowd. "Chrissy's over there, Brittany's beside her - they'd be the best bet in my mind."

"We seriously considering this?" Lawrence asked with a small, nervous chuckle. "I mean, it's kinda crazy, isn't it? We're gonna send Billy Hargrove a message by roughing up his girl? There's not some better way?"

"I'd love to hear it," Steven scoffed. "Billy's too comfortable at the top of the school, broke my fucking nose and deviated Jake's septum. Didn't he fuck your sister the first week he was here, Lawrence?"

"I mean - "

"Broke her fucking heart, didn't he?" Jake tacked on.

"Well, yeah," Lawrence sighed, shrugging.

"You tell me, dude, was that shit fair?"

"No," Lawrence looked down.

"So, yeah, I know, it's bad to hit a lady - but what about my boot? Huh?" Steven smirked, nodding. "Go find out what you can. Last thing we need is Billy walkin' in the party, right?"

Jake nodded with enthusiasm, leaving Lawrence behind. He hesistated but then did as Steven asked; asking the present basketball team members if Billy gave indication he was coming. The cheerleaders assured he wouldn't dare show up when you were there after a very public fight, and if he did, it would be to cause another scene.

So, after reporting back to Steven, a plan was formed. Lawrence didn't seem fully on board, but in an effort to save his own skin, he went along with what Jake and Steven were plotting - even if that meant roughing up a woman. Something his mama and grandmama vehemently taught him not to do...

Something churned in his stomach when he heard how the two lads were nearly foaming at the mouth to get their revenge. So, he casually went to grab another drink - pausing where a few of your friends were. "Oi," he whispered, earning their attention.

"Hey, Law," Chrissy smiled.

"Hey, Chris," he sniffled, glancing around. "Listen, uh, you seen Billy 'round?"

"No? Why?"

"Hmm, just, uh... Heard his girl was all upset, thought maybe her drinking all that much was a bad idea without him around."

"Oh," Chrissy blinked, looking up at her boyfriend, Jason, as he approached the group with two drinks in hand. "I didn't think about it like that, Law."

"What's wrong?" Jason asked.

"No, nothing, Lawrence just pointed out how shitty it is to drink without someone watching your back," she pouted.

He nodded, "You lose your friends, man?"

"No, just tryna look out," Lawrence shrugged. "Few girls here drinking a lot, not a lot of defenses 'round them."

Jason frowned, "That's kinda their man's job, isn't it?"

"What if their man isn't here?"

"I'm gonna be right back," Chrissy smiled, parting ways with her girlfriend in tow - and when Law looked, they were using the kitchen telephone. He prayed they were phoning the Hargrove residence.

Lawrence sighed in slight relief and nodded to Jason; the white boy just nodding back silently and letting the other athlete pass him by to head back for Jake and Steven. He grabbed an unopened beer on his way to maintain appearances.

"Hey, we got it," Jake smirked at the third boy, "she just went outside, we should move now."

"Huh?" Law mumbled.

"C'mon," Steven growled, pushing off the mantle and stalking for the backdoors to follow your retreating form.

"Wait, what're we doing?" Law asked, trying to keep up with the drunken, elongated strides of the two dickheads he called 'friends'. "Hey! Guys, c'mon - what's going on?"

"Just - shut up, pussy boy, let's go, fuckin' keep up," Steven sneered, shoving the glass door out of his way and nearly cracking it.

Outside, the in-ground pool was alight with multicolored lights. There were teenagers littered all around the pool deck; some lounging and some standing, all drinking. There was a kegstand in play, ping pong table hosting another game of Beer Pong, and the thick stench of cigarette smoke in the air.

"She's over there," Jake pointed, their sights turning to see you leaning over to huff on your cigarette while Tammy May Flipsen lit the end of it. Your smile was genuine as you thanked her, just stepping two feet away to gaze up at the stars - a perfect time to strike.

The alcohol in everyone's system made them slow, vulnerable, and downright stupid; leaving Steven and Jake the opportunity to seize either of your arms and literally rush you around the corner of the house without anyone intervening.

Once in the remote side yard, the sickening plan commenced.

Lawrence could barely approach, managing to watch with tears in his eyes as the noises of the party masked the noises of pain you emitted; two nearly full-grown men took out their anger towards your boyfriend on you. You cried, begged for reprieve, sounded so confused and broken that it shattered Lawrence's heart - briefly thinking what if someone did this to his sister...

That made him spring into action. "Hey! No! No, this ain't right! Get off her!" Lawrence barked, shoving the two away from your body on the ground. "That's enough - back off - fuck is wrong with you!?"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" Steven demanded.

"Bitch has it coming!"

"What? You fuckin' her, too? Got you pussy whipped like Billy Boy?"

"Just fuck off, beating on a girl!" Lawrence snapped, but it was a huge mistake. Jake and Steven shared a single look before launching at the third boy, beating him as they had you - but much harder. He swore he earned a concussion, their heels stomping his neck, collarbones, wrists, ribs, ankles; exactly the same as they did to you.

"Tryna defend her now!?" Jake heaved, giving a swift kick to Lawrence's kidney. "Huh? You're so scared of Billy but you're gonna mess with his girl?" He laughed. "She must have a magic cunt or something!"

"You're so fucking pathetic, you have to beat up a girl!?" Law shot right back, earning a swift kick to the jaw from the lad that used to play soccer (or American fútbol). "Huh? Two on one? Such big men, aren't yah?" He sneered again, spitting blood to the side.

"Leave it," Steven halted Jake when he charged again, "they're both pretty fucked."

"Well, that dumbass should learn a lesson 'bout interfering!"

"Law's learned - he has, bro, and if he wants, he can learn again," Steven spat on Lawrence's form, Jake doing the same to you - both eventually stalking away like bored toddlers walking away from broken toys.

Slowly, Lawrence grunted as he pulled himself up to sit against the side of the house. "Fuck's sake," he whispered, wiping his eyes and wincing when he felt the sore skin - trailing a finger up, wincing again when he discovered split skin above his eyebrow. "Ohhhh, fuuuuck," Law drawled when you slowly peaked up from your fetal position on the ground. "Hey, hey, you all right? Stupid question," he hissed in pain when he moved to try and assist you.

You cried out when his grip laid on you, but powered through to let him help you sit against the house, too. "Holy shit," you whispered, blood dribbling from your mouth; teeth feeling loose, a headache already assaulting you, and cuts stinging in the bitter night.

"I'm so sorry."

"N-No, you - it would've been so much worse if you hadn't..." You trailed off, sniffling, "You didn't have t'jump in, you got hurt 'cause of me."

"You got hurt 'cause of Billy," Lawrence frowned.

"Huh?"

"That's why they're so pissed off," Lawrence explained, spitting more blood to the side; his jeans stained with mud, blood, and grass. "Billy got their asses few weeks ago, they're still pissed... I heard them," he deflected smoothly, "talkin' about teaching Billy a lesson through you. Didn't feel right, but I should've stopped them so much sooner. I-I'm sorry I didn't do more, Y/N."

"You did more than anyone else," you whimpered, drawing your knees into your chest to lock your arms around them. "I don't even know them, they go to our school?"

"We're all in AP History with Snyder."

You paused to nod absently, not even bothering to try and recall any interactions you might've had with Steven and Jake. Instead, you eyed your savior, mumbling, "You're Lawrence, right?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Your sister's... Cara? Sarah? No, no," you paused to think, his frown deepening as you seemed so nice and authentic. "Your sister's name is Natalie, right?"

"Yeah," he half-smiled. "You know her?"

"She's a sweetheart, has those cute glasses? Yeah, I like her; she just joined cheer, right?"

"Yeah, that's her."

You eyed him for a moment, ignoring the blood dripping off you both from the beat down; then whispered with a sniffle, "Is that why you helped? 'Cause your sister's on the cheer squad, too?"

"No," he replied instantly, sounding quiet (like you), "I'd like to believe if I saw something I know is wrong... I'd be the type of person to step in, try to stop it."

"You did tonight."

"I should've done more a lot sooner."

"You could've been really hurt, Law."

"Like you?"

"I'm just - look, two guys? Beatin' on me? Yeah," you scoffed, wiping blood from your split lip, "like I ever stood a chance. But you didn't have t'do all that, they wanted Billy, found me instead. You could've walked away, but instead, you jumped in, and you could've been really hurt. That wouldn't help anyone."

"I'm still sorry..."

You sniffled, but before you could respond, you heard footsteps thundering over the lawn; a voice shouting your name in frantic, panicked little outbursts. Looking up, you caught sight of a black leather jacket and unruly blonde curls, frowning deeper. "Oh, fuck," you whispered, withdrawing into yourself, "oh, no, no, not now. Not now, Goddamnit. Think I can make a run for it to the street before he sees me?" You asked Law quietly, nearly hissing your whisper.

"Ain't that Billy?" Law asked, finger pointed.

"He can't see me," you rushed in a panic, eyes wide and tears welling. "Lawrence, he can't!"

"Why?"

"He'll go on a fucking rampage, Lawrence! Ever heard going postal? Yeah, Bee gives that shit new meaning."

"They'd deserve whatever Billy wants t'do," Law frowned, tensing up when Billy had turned, caught sight of you two, and made an angry beeline for you in the grass. "U-Uh, Billy's approaching," he warned you as your boyfriend arrived, trying to pull back to give privacy, but wincing in pain that made him stop.

"The fuck is going - ? Oh, my fuckin' God," Billy trailed off, then whispered when he saw you huddled on the ground; your dress in tatters. Your head was bowed, knees drawn in, refusing to meet his eyes; making your leather-clad boyfriend lower himself to a knee. "Baby? Hey, look at me, sweet girl, lemme see... C'mon, baby, please, look at me."

You only sniffled.

"It was Jake and Steven," Lawrence told Billy, trying to find his feet; falling over and just giving up.

"Hell happened to you, man?"

Lawrence frowned, looking nervous, but your voice answered, "He saved me, Bee. Jumped in, took some of the beating."

Billy looked between you and Lawrence, but focused on you - seeing the injuries to your face and chest in full light. "Oh, my God," he breathed, looking you over in shock. Those pink, pillowy lips you adored licking and sucking on were parted in shock.

You half-smiled, "Think you pissed a few of the wrong guys off."

"Jesus Christ, sweet girl. What happened? Tell me, please, before I start making assumptions," he demanded, reaching for your cheek - making you recoil hard enough that your head banged on the house supporting your exhausted body. "Hey, hey," he whispered, looking physically wounded by your action, "'s just me, baby, it's just me, it's Bee, I'm not gonna hurt you. C'mon, sweetheart, lemme help you."

You sniffled, letting him reach for you again and caress your cheek so he could direct your head left and right; giving him a full view of your injuries that continued to weep. He stiffened as he took note of a new cut or bruise upon every new sweep of his eyes, his anger skyrocketing with every passing moment.

"It hurts," you whimpered. "Apparently, you beat the shit outta those guys weeks ago - guess they were waiting for an opening to strike back."

"You don't deserve this," he growled angrily. "Fuck - look at you! Goddamnit, I'm so sorry, princess, this is my fault. All my fucking fault, shit," he hissed, looking close to tears, "I put you here, I'm so sorry, baby."

"Got Lawrence his ass beat, too," you pouted.

"Sorry about this, man," Billy instantly offered the other boy, who was practically slumped over in the grass. He still managed to give a thumbs up. "But, uh, thank you for stepping in. You know, not a whole lotta people would."

"Nah, it was the right thing to do," Law frowned, waving him off.

"You said Jake and Steven did this?"

"Mhm," Law nodded. "Jake Chastain and Steven Barton."

"Yeah, I know 'em," Billy shook his head, "and I'll fuckin' kill 'em - "

"Can we get cleaned up first? Before we go murdering high school jocks?" You pouted in pain.

"Hey, man. You got a friend here or something? Someone to help us?" Billy asked Lawrence, still caressing your face with his thumb sweeping the apple of your cheek.

"My sister's 'round, yeah..."

"Want me to grab her?" Billy offered awkwardly.

"I'd actually appreciate it," Law whispered. "Gotta get home, yeah?"

"Yeah, man. Stay here, I'll grab her," Billy agreed. "What's her name?"

"Natalie, she's a cheerleader. Um... Y-You dated her beginning of the year?"

"I remember," he sighed, standing to his feet. He told you earnestly, almost sweetly, "I'll be fast."

But the thing is, you knew Billy all too well by now. "Wait, no," you gasped, trying to stand, "Bee, don't!" It was too late, he was already gone by the time you and Lawrence stumbled out from hiding; just in time to watch Billy point Natalie towards where you and her brother were. Then, he turned and surged up to an unsuspecting Jake and Steven; launching an all-out brawl against the two.

Neither of them stood a chance when Billy was THIS angry. Nobody did. In fact, if Jason, Tommy H., and two other guys hadn't pulled him back, surely, there'd be a lot more than a couple of broken bones. However, when Billy told the other basketball players in a spit-flying rage that these two cowards had attacked his girlfriend (a few turning back to get a look at you), it launched a new, mutual anger. Chrissy and a few other cheerleaders wanted to step in when the "fight" (more like attack) started again, but when they saw you, Lawrence, and Natalie, nobody said a single word. Nobody interfered. Nobody interrupted, and luckily, nobody else joined in...

Before Jake and Steven could lose their lives or sustain serious injury that would result in any arrests, Billy was pulled back by Lawrence - of all people. "Hey, hey," the beaten boy barked, "hey, man, chill - chill! These guys deserve it, yeah, I fucking know, but look, hey!" He grabbed Billy's shoulders to prevent him from turning back for the fray. "Hey! Your girl needs you, man. She needs you more than these bozos. C'mon, you can't go to jail over this shit, right? Right? How mad you gonna be if you get bagged 'cause of these jackasses?"

This seemed to force Billy back to reality and out of his homicidal rage. A few dudes who played football stepped in to hoist the unconscious jocks over their shoulders just to leave them on the curb a couple houses down the street.

Billy raced back to you.

Chrissy and Natalie were helping wipe blood from your skin and hair; clothes damaged, ripped, stained, beyond repair, and another cheerleader was holding a bag of frozen peas to your head as you leaned on her stomach. He slid his jacket from his shoulders, easing you off the girl's belly to leave it around your trembling form and then taking the girl's spot, supporting your body as you were tended to.

Eventually, Chrissy sighed, "I think that's the best we're gonna get you, honey. You want us to come over in the mornings? Help you get dressed and do your make-up?"

"No offense, but I don't think that's necessary... It's not like what happened is a secret," Natalie whispered, looking you over.

"Make-up might irritate the injuries," the other girl offered softly. "But it might cover some of those bruises, I just would avoid the cuts."

"I'm okay, girls, but thank you," you assured softly. "Bee's here t'help."

"Yeah, taking you straight to the hospital," he decided stiffly from behind you.

"What?"

"Think I'm not gonna get you checked out after this? Two men attacked you, I gotta make sure ain't shit's seriously wrong, baby. Don't fight me on this, please."

Billy's mind was warped with memories of sitting in ER's and other clinics with his mother nursing a broken wrist or damaged eye socket. His father's anger had always been a temperamental switch, something Billy felt he always had to outdo. Being in the hospital with you felt too similar, another bolt of rage zinging through his blood; hating the idea that you were the victim, and like his mother, he wasn't able to protect you.

Unlike his mother, this situation was directly his fault. He didn't even remember why he beat the shit outta Steven and Jake all those weeks ago, but whatever the reason, it cost him now. Cost you both.

The party continued inside the house, but Billy walked around the side yard, down to the front, then towards the street full of parked cars with you secure in his arms. After getting you settled safely in the passenger seat of his Camaro, Billy rightened and shut the door; seeing Lawrence and Natalie approaching their own car, the bag of peas now held to his jaw and cheek.

His sister was under his arm, helping him hobble. Billy gulped, realizing Lawrence was beat to hell, too, and if he hadn't jumped in, Lord only knew what state you'd be in now. When the two men caught one another's eye, Billy offered a nod of respect and thanks; the other lad returning it as if to say he was welcome. Billy raced for the driver's door, sliding in, and without turning any music on, drove off towards the hospital.

You were grumpy to be there, but one look at you had the medical staff moving at a quickened pace to help you; offering speedy aid. You were cleaned and cared for; questions regarding the level of assault making you nervous, but you answered honestly that two classmates had jumped you at a party. This meant the police were called; tears in your eyes and down your cheeks when you had to tell Chief Hopper (a close family friend) exactly what happened.

Billy provided their assailant’s full names and promised they wouldn't be in the best shape when (slash if) the two were found.

After hearing your story and writing the names down from Billy, Hopper sighed in empathy, "Kid... Don't admit t'anything."

"I'm not, I'm just making a casual note," Billy countered. "You know, people don't take too kindly to people hittin' a woman. Less so when she's drunk, alone, and they fuckin' stomp on her - "

"All right," Hopper tried to halt his built up anger. "Let's just take a breath here - "

"Uh, Chief?" His deputy interrupted. "Them boys? Uh, a... Jake Chastain and Steven Barton? They were just wheeled in from an ambulance."

"Interesting," Hopper noted, sparing Billy a small look. "From where?"

"A neighbor called them in, said there's a party few houses from her on Hawthorne."

Jim Hopper sighed and turned to you and Billy with his hands on his hips. His face was passively angry. "Sound familiar?" He asked, tongue sweeping over his teeth.

"Yes," you answered for you both, "that's where it happened, Chief."

His eyes softened when he looked back at you. "All right," he nodded, looking to his partner. "Go stand by their room, keep an eye - I'll be there in a second, but the victims made a positive ID. Doc's will treat 'em and we'll book 'em." When left alone, Hopper took a suspicious look around the hospital floor before sliding the curtains shut around your bed; moving to your other side, removing his hat, and kneeling. "Listen, kid," he whispered, taking your hand softly, "I got a daughter at home, too, and if anyone - and I mean, anyone - laid a hand on her the way you were tonight, I'd burn this town to the fucking ground."

Billy snorted in amusement, "Know the feeling."

Hopper nodded, "So believe me when I say, I need to know, off the record, what really happened tonight. Your father will need to know that I am doing everything to help - but I need to know the truth."

"I don't know what to tell you, Hopper," you frowned, matching his quiet tone, "I've told you what I know. I was a few drinks in, stepped outside t'smoke, and that's when they grabbed me, took me t'the side yard, and started wailing on me. I dropped, they kept goin', that's when this other boy stepped in. He got beat up pretty good, too, but he helped get them away. Billy showed up, we came here - "

"I hit them," Billy interrupted, making you squeak lightly. Hopper just laid his other hand over yours so he cocooned it; glancing around the under skirts of the curtains to make sure you remained alone.

Then he asked, "When?"

"After I made sure Y/N was okay," Billy explained, petting a hand over the back of your head; never looking away from Hopper. "I found her friend's sister, made sure someone knew where they were, and then I hit them... And I didn't stop hitting them."

"Kid - "

"Some teammates pulled me off, don't worry - it could've been so much worse. But when the others found out what they did to my girl?" He hissed quietly, "They took matters into their own hands by themselves, sir. My girl was attacked, I couldn't let that just slide, Chief, I hope you understand."

Hopper sighed, "Well, I can't condone the violence, but since it was a group effort, be a helluva lot more paperwork bringing you in versus those two who started it."

Billy nodded absently, your free hand laying over Hopper's to stack. "Did you call my dad?" You asked nervously.

"Not yet," he frowned. "I gotta check on the suspects, but I can after."

"Could you not? For me, please?" You sniffled. "He'll just worry and would get all pissy 'cause his trip has to be cut - "

"He's not home?" Hopper asked in earnest confusion with knitted brows.

Your head shook, "Chicago for the week."

"He left eight days ago," Billy snipped.

"Bee," you reprimanded sharply.

"Hey," Hopper squeezed your hand, "it's okay, you're over 18, I don't have to call him. But El and I are gonna drop by later with dinners and to check on you, her little friend, too, probably. You know, the, uh... The little red head?"

"Max?" You asked.

"Yeah, her. Nice girl."

"She's Billy's step-sister," you snickered, wincing when your broken ribs protested.

"You should rest," Hopper bid, "and thank you for being honest," he stood to his feet while nodding at Billy. "Tell you what, I won't report you starting the fight - technically... It'll be reported as a randomized group effort after they were caught assaulting Y/N."

Billy nodded, too shocked for words as Hopper patted your hand, placed his hat on, and exited the little curtained room. "Wow," your boyfriend breathed. "Since when are you friends with the Chief of Police?"

"He and my dad go way back," you eased.

"All cops like him?"

"Fuck no, you know that." After a beat, you reached for his hand to lace your fingers with him, "Hey," you bid, "I-I'm really sorry."

"Baby, just - don't even start - "

"No, for earlier, for our fight," you interrupted, "and for feeling petty enough to go to the party alone when I know you don't like that... For drinking, not being more aware like you taught me. I didn't use the buddy-system when I went t'smoke, it was a major fuck-up, I know, but I'm just sorry. I feel like I've disappointed you or something - "

"No, hey, sweet girl," he rushed, sitting on the edge of the gurney to stare at you directly, "don't you ever feel that way - you didn't do nothing wrong. Hear me? You didn't put yourself in this position, you didn't deserve what happened, you didn't - no, just," he sighed deeply, "you didn't do any of this, sweetheart. Okay? If anything... If anything, this is my fucking fault and I'm the one who is so sorry."

Your head shook, but Billy continued,

"They did this to you because of me." Tears filled those sweet baby blues. "Because I don't have a hold of my temper - I fucked them up, so, they fucked you up. This is my fault, I'm so sorry. But look, hey, I'll fix this, okay? I swear to God - I'm gonna fix this."

"The cops got 'em, we don't have t'do anything else," you mumbled. "You don't have to do anything else, Billy."

"Maybe not, but I can't let this go - look at you," a single tear dripped. "Fucking look at you, my sweet girl. In the fucking hospital 'cause of me - I can't - this ain't right. I gotta make it right."

You couldn't answer because a technician was arriving to take you for a CT, MRI, and X-Ray - all of those scans that would tell them what was going on internally. Hopper was seen outside the two boy's rooms - Billy following your bed closely as you where wheeled away. Every scan or test he could remain close for, he was; stepping back when needed, but being sucked right back to your side when able.

By the end of the night, you were released into Billy's care because all patients with head injuries had to have some kind of chaperone, and a few floors up, Steven and Jake were being handcuffed to their hospital beds by Hopper.

"Real lucky I wasn't there when you hit her," Jim Hopper seethed quietly, tightening the cuff on Jake to an uncomfortable grip. "Your parents would need money for your funerals - not bail," he offered one single more glare before leaving the next shift of deputies on duty. He sped all the way home and held Eleven in a suffocating hug.

Turns out, you sustained decent injuries from that night.

A (cleanly) broken ankle. Six different broken ribs. Split lip that required two stitches. Stitched earlobes from where piercings were ripped out. Severely bruised collarbones, bordering on broken. One blackened eye. Along with other generic bruises and cuts, more seemingly discovered as the days drug by slowly.

Billy was ready to mow down anyone in his way at any point, but his only ability to get through the school day was that he saw you everyday afterward. He dropped whatever sport and / or club that held his interest, collecting coursework you missed, then driving Max and "Jane" Hopper to your place. He would've lashed out if this was any other situation, but because you asked him to behave and bring you the materials you needed, he did. He played nice.

The two assailants, Steven and Jake, had been arrested by Jim Hopper. They apparently had a rough ride to the station, but that wasn't here or there. What they did to you was far worse that nobody batted a single lash when the two were brought in the station for booking, looking freshly beat up and bloodied. A judge also rejected their bail.

Billy brought you whatever work you missed during your recovery at home, most teachers shocked to see him so diligent in showing up and making the collections. He didn't understand whatever the teachers told him about the work, but you did - and it was fascinating to him, watching you work or study. He usually sat by your window to smoke, but on the occasion, you asked for a toke and wouldn't care about where the smoke blew. So, as weeks passed, he stopped specifically going over to your window; just leaving it open for ventilation so he could remain at your side.

Anything you needed, he got. He did. He gave you. Guilt was one helluva motivator and Billy was chalked-full; so, he did the only thing he knew he could, being acts of service.

You were laid up, it made sense. He could bring you into the shower, get naked himself and help you bathe. He could carry you downstairs, cook for you, help out around the house by keeping it clean because he knew it stressed you out. He would collect the mail, water plants, do dishes, just turned into a househusband that made your stomach and cheeks feel all warm and fuzzy. Never did you think Billy had the ability to be domestic, but here he was, in your great-grandmother's kitchen, wearing a stained apron while trying to bake cookies while you worked on a physics project.

"Hey, Bee?"

"What's wrong?" He asked instantly, setting the hot tray to the stove.

"No, hey, calm down," you smiled with a small laugh. "I was just wondering... You know, like... What's gotten into you?"

"Huh?"

"You know what I mean," you huffed, setting your pencil down. "You literally haven't let me out of your sight except when you're at school."

He shrugged, "You need help."

"You don't ask if I do."

"I don't need to ask when I can just see it."

"Billy."

He sighed and begrudgingly scraped cookies off the hot tray to rest on the cooling sheets. "Your dad asked me to stay close," he offered.

"Bullshit."

"No, really," Billy insisted. "He's in and out with work, so, he asked me to stick around, just in case."

"Okay, fine, but it's more than that. Billy, tell me the truth, baby, please. It's not a bad thing, I'm just curious what's really going on."

"I'm just... I'm just nervous, you know?"

Your head cocked, "Why's that?"

"Look what happened to you," he chuckled ruefully. "All fucked up, can't even go t'school until your ribs are healed - all 'cause of me. 'Cause I fucked up and went too far - "

"William," you snapped, making his wide, shocked eyes meet yours. "I'm not gonna listen to this anymore. Okay? I know you're sorry, you tell me everyday, andI know you're feeling guilty, but this isn't your fault, you're not the one who put hands on me - "

You flinched when he lobbed the cookie tray into the sink, causing a ruckus, his voice yelling over the noise, "FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

"William!"

"I'm trying to protect you!" He yelled, tears swelling when he whipped around to face you. "I-I don't know what else to do! Look, okay, say what you fucking want, but the truth is, those two assholes came at you 'cause of me. Okay? 'Cause I had to be myself and beat the shit outta them 3 months ago, they never forgave - they didn't forget. I put you in this situation, that now? Now, yeah!" He laughed without humor. "Yeah! I'm fucking nervous leaving you alone! Fuck knows what could happen to you, and who's to say there aren't more people out there just waiting for this kinda opportunity! Baby!" He rushed for you at the kitchen table, your mouth sewn shut in shock as he found his knees in front of you and took both your hands in his. "Baby, listen to me. You're the only thing - no, I'm serious!" He insisted when you looked ready to protest this sentiment you've heard before. "You're the only thing I fucking care about, that I want to protect, and they all know it - I don't exactly hide it. I love you so fucking much, they'd do this again - they'd fucking hurt you to get to me and that idea just..." He sighed, looking lost.

You pulled a hand free to instantly caress his cheek, turning his attention upward until his eyes met yours. "Billy," you whispered, "baby, nobody's after us. This was just a freak accident, this was a fluke, okay? You're worried anyone else is gonna come at me, at us, but I know nobody else is that fucking stupid. They wouldn't test you, and Jake and Steven took advantage of an already bad situation. Okay? We had a fight - which was pretty public. So, people knew we were at odds, and when I showed up at that party alone, started drinking, it was their perfect opportunity to strike."

"You can't say that, we don't know if anyone else is gonna test us," he sniffled. "I've made a lot of mistakes... Pissed a lot of people off. One of them might've grown a pair."

"Okay," you relented, "then I guess we're gonna have to stick together, you know... So you can keep me safe, right?"

He chuckled dryly, "I'm trying, princess."

"Well, we can work out a better way - one that doesn't run you into the fucking ground, Billy, Jesus," you searched his face. "Are you sleeping? At all?"

"'Course I am - "

"Don't lie to me."

He sighed, deflating a little, "I sleep... Only when I stay here."

"Billy, you stay only a couple nights a week when Daddy's home."

"I know."

"So, you basically only sleep when Daddy's out of town and you stay here?" You squeaked, watching him nod; pouting and feeling your own guilt brew. "Baby... Look, can we just agree that this isn't either of our faults? Right? Yeah? If I'm not allowed to think this was my fault, you aren't either."

"I was the one they wanted t'hurt," he shook his head. "They did this 'cause of me, sweetheart, how can you be so - so - fuck! So fucking understanding a-and forgiving?"

"Because I love you," you answered like it was common knowledge, even giving a small giggle.

"That doesn't... But that doesn't even - "

"What? Mean anything? Bee, it means everything," you smiled at him. "I love you, so, when you make mistakes, I forgive you - even though there's nothing you've done. I mean," you winced slightly, "sure, maybe we could reduce the kids you bully or beat up, you know, limit the enemies we might make. And this is something that can be redeemed, can't it?"

He stared at you from the floor, slowly deflating, "Can it? I've fucked up so much, doll, I don't think I deserve whatever forgiveness you wanna give me."

"You can't keep beating yourself up," you snipped. "Hey? Hear me? Look, it happened - it fucking sucked, but it happened and it's fucking over. We both need one another to help move on, okay? So, I need you back, Bee, I need my man back because we need to get through this together. You don't get to sulk in your guilt, I don't get to stew in my regret, we need to help each other out of this."

Billy sniffled, "How? How do we move on when you've still got stitches in your lip?"

"They'll dissolve in a few days," you shrugged meekly. "We move on together, okay? Maybe you pick up basketball again, try to distract yourself. Billy, we need some normalcy again, right? You know?"

"Doll, being away from you makes me feel like my lungs are gonna pop," he shook his head. "I'm afraid something might happen if I'm not there, it's fucking scary after finding you in your own blood."

"Then I'll be at every practice," you eased. "You can drive me to and from school, then you know where I am - you'll know I'm safe."

Billy stared at you a moment, fully dropping to the floor as his energy finally drained. He ran a hand through his hair, rustling the curls, admitting in a soft voice, "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to not feel so guilty, how to move forward."

"There's no playbook," you agreed. "Guess it means we gotta figure it out ourselves, but again, we do it together. C'mere," you sighed, lowering yourself to the floor with your booted ankle held out.

"No, don't - "

"Fuck off, I'm not totally unable to do shit," you grunted, adjusting yourself and reaching for him. "Come here, please, I wanna hold you! Been cuddling me this whole time, lemme be the big spoon, please."

"Just told me to fuck off, sweetheart, kinda sending some mixed signals, aren't'cha?" He chuckled, turning so his back was to your chest; leaning so you supported him in his slump. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he muttered, holding the arm around his collarbones. "I really - if I knew this was gonna happen, I'd never of fought them."

"I know, and I forgive you," you whispered in his ear. "But we can't keep doing this back and forth, okay? I forgive you, Billy, no more apologies."

He sighed, "Yeah... All right..."

"Steven and Jake are arrested, we won't have t'see them again. Hopper will make sure of that," you smirked against the shell of his ear. "And the doctors said I should be good to return to school next week, but I'm out of cheer and everything."

He groaned, "Just something else I've fucked up for you."

"Oh, please, I love the time off," you teased. "Gives me all the time I need to watch my man on the court, huh?" He half-chuckled at your words. "You know I'm ahead in all my classes now, too? Teaching myself at home is far superior than the teacher's bitching at us for eight hours."

"You're gonna love college, baby," he chuckled, the two of you lulling into a comfortable silence. You held him tightly, nuzzled into his neck; both sitting in your emotions, trying to navigate a way out.

"We good?" You whispered.

"We're good," Billy agreed, just as soft. "No more apologies... Try to have less guilt. But you're gonna let me stay close, right?"

"I want you clinging to me so hard, I can't fucking breathe," you smirked. "And if Daddy really asked you to stick around, then you're welcome to stay here longer, even if he's here... Where I can have you close to me," you whispered, licking the skin under his ear. He stiffened.

"No - you better not," he squirmed when you licked again, adding a little teeth in a scrape.

"Billy," you pouted. "It's been weeks!"

"You're still hurt," he argued, turning on the floor to look at you. "I'm not gonna be responsible for breaking another of your ribs 'cause we were horny."

"I'm doing so much better, though!"

"Tell you what," he smirked. "Next business trip of your dad's, I'll fuck you all weekend - wherever you want, however you want."

"He has one in two weeks."

"Mhm, and you have a check up before he leaves."

You eyed him for a moment, "When did you become responsible?"

"I've always been."

"No, this is new. You're remembering dates and my doctor appointments and my dad's work schedule."

"Maybe I just like taking care of you," he whispered against your lips with a growing smirk. After pecking you lips, he quipped, "So, shut up and let me."

"Yes, sir."

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

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duckprintspress · 11 days ago

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Announcing the May Trope Mayhem Prompt List for 2025!

May Trope Mayhem is a multi-fandom/original creation event open to writers, artists, and creators of all kinds! Our creators have shared their favorite tropes, and we’ve put together a list of 31, one per day through the month of May. We encourage creators to join us for this month of fun tropey mayhem.

Our goal is to promote motivation and help with habit building, so we’re encouraging authors to keep their ficlets under 1,000 words, artists to stick to making just a sketch, gif makers to only do a single image, etc., as applicable to whatever you’re making.

This event is primarily held on Tumblr, but you’re welcome to participate anywhere Duck Prints Press has an account (you can see all our current platforms here) and we’ll keep our eyes on our tag everywhere!

How can you participate? It’s easy! There’s just a few simple rules:

write a ficlet or a poem, create art, make a gif, or create any other content that you want, aligned with the prompt for the day!

post your correctly tagged fills to Tumblr, and we’ll reblog them! We’ll reskeet works on Bluesky, retoot those on Mastodon, you get the idea. Note: we do not use Twitter.

you must tag warnings such as gore, MCD, sexual content, etc., so that people can make informed decisions!

please also tag fandom and ship, so people can find what interests them!

we ask that you put the tags at the top of your post, so they’re easy to find.

if you write more than 1k words and post the whole text on Tumblr or wherever, please use a read more if the platform allows.

if you create something with NSFW content or potentially triggering material, please put the entire work under a read more.

Ping us (duckprintspress) or tag your creations “#may trope mayhem” and so we can find them! We’ll reblog all fills that follow the above rules and are posted between May 1st and June 8th, 2025. Posting starts May 1st!

If you post to AO3, you can also add them to our collection there!

You don’t have to sign up for May Trope Mayhem, just post your fills. You don’t have to be a member of the Press nor do you have to be following us. You don’t have to be part of a specific fandom. We’re open to all ships, genres, formats, ratings, kinks, etc.! You can post whatever properly tagged content you want. You don’t have to post fills on the corresponding day, though we ask that if you’re creating for a day that hasn’t happened yet, please wait for that day to post.

Participating in May Trope Mayhem? Want to chat fandom, books, creation, and more? Join our Book Lover’s Discord Server!

This is a low-pressure event, held in good fun, and we look forward to seeing what you create!

MAY TROPE MAYHEM Prompt List Text Version:

Fairy Tale Fusion

Bachelor Auction

Stowaway

Superhero x Supervillain

Inherited Blessing or Curse

Tiny Adorable Eldritch Horror

Love Triangle to Polyamory

Wardrobe Malfunction

Body Guard Character

Fake Dating

Ghost Love Interest

Idiots to Lovers

Unresolved Sexual Tension* (*resolved)

“Who did this to you?”

Character is Conveniently Unrecognizable in Glasses

Breaking the 4th Wall

Time Loop

Wing Grooming

Accidental Summoning

Language Barrier

The House is Alive

Pet Acquisition

A+ Parenting

Mentor and Mentee

Amnesia

Body Swap

Royal x Knight

Second Chance with a Former Love

Identity Porn

Accidental Baby Acquisition

Magical Familiar

#duck prints press #may trope mayhem #may trope mayhem 2025 #it's that time again!#please help spread the word

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alygator77 · 9 months ago

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ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 3 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, from naoya not satoru) » 【note, this chapter contains explicit sexual content (m masturbation)】

ꨄ words: 13.3k

ꨄ a/n. oh wowie, here it is. i hope ya'll enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

♬ playlist

series masterlist ꨄ︎ previous chapter ꨄ︎ next chapter →

ch 3 // fractured realities

Streams of light filter in through the drapes of your bedroom, casting a soft glow across the room.

A groan escapes your lips as you feel a dull throb on your temple—a reminder of the countless glasses of wine and champagne you indulged in at the gala. But as fragmented images of the evening flood your mind, your headache doesn’t end there.

You kissed Satoru Gojo.

Correction—you kissed the hell out of Satoru Gojo.

Each detail is more vivid than the last—the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his hold, the taste of him, and his soft groan that you swallowed against your lips.

God, it felt too real, too intense.

You sit up in your bed, rubbing your temples as you try to shake off the lingering effects of last night’s revelry, but you can’t ignore the fluttering sensation that stirs within—your cheeks growing hot from the memory.

Ugh. Being hungover and flushed is not a combination you enjoy.

When did Satoru start having such an intense effect on you?

You want to blame it on a lapse of judgement—perhaps the alcohol lowered your inhibitions? Sure, let’s go with that. That feels better than admitting that maybe you secretly wanted to kiss Satoru Gojo.

He’s insufferable after all—you can’t stand him…right?

Fuck, this is confusing.

Why does it feel like there has been a subtle tension between you and Satoru that has been simmering beneath the surface for a while now, each interaction, each glance, adding fuel to the fire?

Every shared look carries an unspoken promise, every touch lingers a fraction too long, leaving your skin tingling and your heart racing. It’s as if you’re both walking a tightrope, balancing on the edge of something profoundly transformative.

Are you imagining things?

Silently cursing yourself, you know these thoughts you’re having will only make things more complicated. This is simply a contract—nothing more.

Transactional. Business.

With a deep sigh, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, hoping to shake off these intrusive throughs with a stretch of your muscles.

If only it were that simple.

Perhaps a shower will help clear your mind—a chance to cleanse yourself from the remnants of last night’s indulgences.

Shuffling towards the bathroom, a yawn escapes your mouth as you rub your eyes tiredly, reaching for the door. But the moment you open it, you freeze in your tracks.

With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, Satoru stands outside the shower, droplets of water glistening on his bare chest, each bead tracing the defined lines of his muscles. You can’t help but notice the way the water trails down his torso, accentuating every ridge and curve. It’s as if he’s been sculpted from marble, each detail painstakingly crafted to perfection.

For a moment, neither of you move—a stunned silence filling the room as your eyes lock.

His damp hair sticks to his forehead in an almost boyish manner, contrasting sharply with his otherwise commanding presence, and your eyes trail downwards…

Oh.

The smooth contours of his abs carve a path down towards the towel hanging precariously low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination.

Your heart races, and you feel a blush rushing to your cheeks. Your eyes flicker back up to Satoru’s and fuck, he caught you—eyes twinkling with amusement as his lips slowly curl into a self-satisfied grin.

“Good morning to you too. Enjoying the view?”

The heat in your cheeks intensifies as your eyes widen, blinking rapidly, trying to snap yourself out of your daze.

“I... I didn’t realize you were in here,” you stammer, voice higher than usual.

Satoru’s smirk widens as he reaches for an extra towel, rubbing it against his head to dry his hair. He then drapes the towel across his shoulders and meets your gaze with an alluring glint.

“Well, if you wanted to see more, you only had to ask.”

Pressing your lips together in protest, you try to regain some semblance of composure. Satoru had always teased you—don’t take it too seriously, you tell yourself.

Clearing your throat, you advert your gaze, though the crimson hue still remains on your cheeks.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It was an accident—besides, you’re the one who forgot to lock the door.”

Satoru lets out a contemplative hum, feigning innocence as he walks towards the sink.

“Guess I’m not used to sharing a bathroom,” he leans against the counter and crosses his arms, eyes surveying you with a mischievous glint, “You’re to blame too though, could’ve at least knocked. Unless, you were hoping to join me?” he grins.

Your eyes widen, and you can feel the blush creeping up your neck.

“In your dreams, Satoru.”

A low chuckle escapes him as his stare bores into you—oh how he lives for this. Satoru’s always loved seeing you flustered, but this? This is something else entirely, a new level of satisfaction he hadn’t anticipated.

“Sure, sure,” he pauses, then tilts his head to the side. “But you’re still standing there, aren’t you?”

You swallow hard, eyes flickering between his face and his chest, unable to decide where to look. His satisfaction grows with every falter in your gaze, his knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Each glance is a step deeper into a trap of your own making, an unspoken admission that he holds more sway over you than you care to admit.

“Just... put some clothes on, please. And yes, I’m standing here because I’d like to take a shower. Aren’t you done? Why are you still here.”

“Oh sure, I’m done. You can shower, but aren’t you gonna return the favor? Do I get a show too?”

Your breath catches in your throat at his boldness, the heat in your cheeks spreading down your neck. The intensity of his gaze pins you in place, a silent challenge that sends a shiver through your body.

“Not a chance,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “This isn’t some kind of peep show.”

Satoru gives you an annoyingly innocent pout, rubbing his neck with a sly grin, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Tch. Too bad. Would’ve been a great way to start the morning.”

You roll your eyes, pushing past him to get to the shower.

“Out,” you command, pointing towards the door.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, still chuckling as he walks out.

“Alright, alright. Enjoy your shower, princess.”

You lock the door firmly behind him—heart pounding and your thoughts in disarray. As you step into the shower and the warm water cascades over you, you can’t help but replay the scene in your mind, each word and gesture etched vividly in your memory.

He’s just teasing—you remind yourself as you try to push away the fluttering feeling in your chest. Don’t take his words seriously, your relationship is a charade.

You close your eyes, letting the water wash over you, but the confusion remains.

Fuck. This is getting complicated.

ꨄ︎

The moment you close the door firmly behind him, Satoru leans against it for a moment, his smirk fading into a more contemplative expression.

He runs a hand through his hair—the sight of you, wide-eyed and blushing, had done more to him than he cared to admit. Exhaling slowly, he realizes that he’s in deeper than he thought.

As his thoughts drift back to the kiss you had shared at the gala, a familiar heat pools in his lower abdomen. The way your lips had felt against his—soft and inviting—the memory of your taste, the way you fit so perfectly against him…fuck. It stirs something primal within him.

He can’t deny the growing attraction he feels. After seeing you there with your cheeks flushed and your eyes surveying him, he had wanted to pull you closer, to see if your lips were as warm and inviting as he remembered.

Satoru groans as he adjusts his towel, feeling the fabric brush against his growing erection, trying to focus on anything other than the way you looked at him—the way the framework of your sleepwear accentuated your curves, the indent of your nipples peeking through the thin satin of your tank top. God, his desire only intensifies.

The contract was clear—no emotional entanglements. Yet here he was, aroused as his mind is consumed by you. He can’t help but wonder…what would it be like to explore this connection further, to let go, to give in to his curiosity completely.

Would it be so bad to just…fantasize?

He hears the shower turn on from behind the closed door—God, he can just imagine what it would be like to slide his hands all over your bare body.

Reaching down, he unwraps the towel from his waist, his cock slamming against his abdomen as it springs free from confinement. He curses under his breath; this wasn’t supposed to happen. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like this, but he can’t help but reach down and grip the base of his girth—he needs this, he wants this.

He needs you.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he begins to stroke himself, his hand moving slowly as he traces a familiar path over his length. There's a dull thud as Satoru's head hits the door, his eyes fluttering shut as he gives in to his imagination.

He can picture it vividly in his mind, the way the water would slide over your body, the way you'd respond to his touch... fuck, he can practically hear the little gasps and moans that would escape your lips as he touches you, the sounds that would drive him wild.

He bites his bottom lip, his hand moving slowly, trying to be as silent as possible. The thought of you, just on the other side of the door, excites him even more.

His breath comes out in short gasps as he imagines you, wet and wanting under the spray of the shower. The way your body would arch beneath his touch as he slides his digits between your warm walls. The water would run in rivulets down your body and you’d shiver under his touch, whispering his name, begging for more.

His breathing grows heavier as he speeds up his pace, envisioning you on your knees before him, your head bowed in submission, wet and flushed, looking up at him with a half-lidded desire in your eyes.

He wants you so desperately it's painfully evident in every movement—it’s almost too much to bear.

Your name slips from his lips – a desperate plea rather than a simple invocation. Fuck, it feels so good to have your name rolling off his tongue as he does something so indecent.

He can almost feel your hot, wet tongue swirling around his sensitive head, tasting him, savoring him. His free hand trails down to cup his balls, rolling them gently between his fingers as he pumps faster, just as you would while you take every inch of him in your pretty little mouth.

“Fuck…” he hisses through clenched teeth, his pace quickening as he chases the release he so desperately craves.

He shouldn’t be doing this, especially not right outside the bathroom door. But in this moment, he can't bring himself to care. Nothing else matters but you.

He pictures himself taking you right there, pushing you against the tiled wall, claiming your mouth in a fierce kiss as he thrusts himself deep inside you. The image of you quivering in pleasure drives Satoru further into madness. His strokes become erratic, desperate.

Satoru's entire body tenses, muscles coiling tight as he throws his head back. A desperate whine slips past his clenched teeth “Fuck…I’m gonna…”

His hips jerk erratically, pumping his cock in time with the spasms wracking his body. He whimpers as spurt after spurt of hot cum coats his stomach and chest, the sticky fluid painting his skin with evidence of his forbidden desires. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, each syllable punctuated by another forceful stroke as his hand continues to move, milking every last drop.

Panting heavily, he slumps against the door, his heart pounding in his chest while his spent cock twitches with residual pleasure. As he slowly comes back to reality, he realizes what he's done.

This wasn't supposed to happen—he was meant to tease you, not end up teasing himself. But there was no denying the effect you had on him anymore.

Fuck.

What the fuck is he thinking? This can’t happen again.

He needs to take another shower.

ꨄ︎

Stepping out of the shower, you wrap a fluffy towel around your body as the warm steam curls around you. You begin to head back to your room, but the moment you open the bathroom door, you are caught off guard, immediately met by one of the house staff, holding out a freshly laundered robe.

“Good morning, ma’am. Your robe.”

“Thank you,” you hesitate slightly, trying to offer a polite smile.

Taking the robe, you begin to make your way to the walk-in closet, yet another staff member is waiting with a selection of outfits.

"I've picked out a few choices for today's events, Mrs. Gojo."

You take a deep breath, "Thanks, I'll take a look."

It’s barely morning and you already have staff at your beck and call—sure, they mean well, but it’s suffocating. You’re not one for a lot of attention.

As the staff member steps aside, you examine the array of outfits.

Your eyes scan the elegant dresses, tailored suits, and chic ensembles neatly arranged on hangers. It’s not quite as elegant as the gala, but it’s clear that Satoru must have something important planned for the day. Each outfit exudes sophistication and class, far more extravagant than your usual attire.

As you run your fingers over the fabric of a particularly stunning dress, a ball of nerves settles within you. The thrill of wondering what Satoru has in store is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. You select the dress, hoping it aligns with whatever he has planned.

After slipping into the elegant dress, you make your way to your vanity. But just as your fingers curl around the handle of your hairbrush, a maid materializes at your side, yet again.

"Good morning, ma'am. Can I assist you with your hair today?"

Is a moment to yourself too much to ask?

Your headache from last night’s wine lingers, and the incessant stream of people is beginning to fray your nerves—it’s really too much.

Offering another polite smile, you try to mask the mild irritation simmering beneath.

"No, thank you. I can manage.”

The maid nods and steps back, only for another staff member to glide in right behind her, almost as if choreographed.

This one carries a gleaming silver tray adorned with an array of high-end skincare products, each bottle and jar meticulously arranged, their labels promising luxury and perfection.

"Your skincare routine, ma'am."

You close your eyes momentarily, trying to remain patient, your voice as calm as you can manage.

"I appreciate it, really, but I have my own products."

The staff member hesitates, her expression a mix of confusion and professionalism.

"Of course, ma'am," she replies, inclining her head respectfully before retreating.

As the door closes behind her, you release a long, weary sigh. The constant attention is smothering, and you long for the simplicity of your old life.

Those quiet mornings, the sweet solitary moments where you could just… be – without the pressure of performing or living up to impossible standards.

But like it or not, this is your reality now. Guess you’ll just need to find a way to navigate it without losing yourself in the process.

ꨄ︎

By the time you make it downstairs, Haru is already seated at the elegant dining table, her small hands fiddling with her silverware. Satoru sits at the head of the table, reading through some documents.

The table is laden with a lavish breakfast spread—perfectly arranged fruits, pastries, and an assortment of gourmet dishes. The scent threatens to overwhelm you as the lingering effects of last night’s indulgence in wine and champagne churn in your stomach.

"Good morning," Satoru says, glancing up with a grin, looking annoyingly refreshed.

Rubbing the temple of your head, you attempt a tired smile.

“Morning.”

Satoru watches you with amusement as you slide into your seat. The rich aroma of the elaborate breakfast instantly greets your nostrils, prompting a groan to escape your lips.

"How are you feeling?" he quirks a brow.

"Like I drank half the wine cellar," you grimace.

Satoru leans back in his chair, his grin widening, and Haru giggles, watching you with wide curious eyes as you bury your face in your hands.

“Mama sleepy,” she declares with the wisdom of a two-year-old.

“Yes, Haru…Mama is very sleepy,” you mutter, peaking at her through your fingers. Despite the hangover, that innocent laugh brings a small smile to your face.

Satoru chuckles, setting his documents aside as he reaches for his mug.

"You should’ve stuck to the champagne, lightweight," he teases, bringing his coffee up to his lips.

You shoot him a half-hearted glare.

"Not helping."

A chef sets down a plate of perfectly arranged eggs benedict directly in front of you with a flourish, each element meticulously placed. The aroma wafts up and you instinctively push the plate away.

"Actually, do you have any toast? With jelly?" your voice tinged with a mix of disgust and desperation.

The chef looks momentarily puzzled, a slight furrow forming on his brow, but he nods politely.

"Of course, ma'am."

You abruptly get up, deciding to find it yourself. Making your way to the nearby pantry, you move with purpose as you begin rummaging through the neatly organized shelves. You feel Satoru’s amused gaze following your every move. Turning, you see him leaning back in his chair, a bemused smile playing on his lips as he watches you with evident curiosity.

“You're like a college student after a party. All this gourmet food and you want toast?"

Your fingers brush past jars of exotic spices and imported oils until you finally find what you’re looking for—a simple loaf of bread and a jar of ruby-red jelly. The familiar, comforting sight of them brings a small, satisfied smile to your lips. You turn to Satoru, holding up the items triumphantly.

“I just want something simple.”

As you set the bread and jelly down on the counter, Haru, perched nearby with wide and curious eyes, giggles at the sight.

"Mama wants toast!" she announces gleefully, her little voice echoing through the kitchen like a bell.

A grin curls up your lips as you unclasp the bread bag.

"Yes, mama wants toast," you say, popping a slice into the toaster. Leaning casually against the marble countertop, you shift your gaze to Satoru. “Anyways Mr. Gourmet, what’s the plan for today?”

Satoru leans back, his eyes narrowing playfully as he studies you.

"Well, I was thinking we could go over some things regarding Gojo Corporation. There are a few upcoming projects I’ve been meaning to discuss with you and I’d like your insight."

You arch an eyebrow, mildly caught off guard by the suggestion.

"Really? You usually handle all that on your own."

He nods, the movement slow and deliberate.

"True," he concedes, "but as my wife, I think it’s time you start coming back to the office with me. I want you to be more involved, and it’s important for everyone to see us working together as a team."

Your eyes widen in surprise.

"You want me to be more involved? I’m just a secretary."

Satoru shrugs with a casual air, but there’s a determined edge to his voice that tells you he’s thought this through.

"I’ve taken on a lot more responsibilities lately, and I could use your help. Besides, your insights have always been valuable to me.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the sudden pop of the toaster pulls your attention away. Turning your focus to the toast, you carefully spread jelly across the warm slice, but the task does little to settle the fluttering sensation in your chest.

This is a big ask.

You've always been behind the scenes, a secretary who knew the inner workings but never sat at the table where decisions were made. And now, here he is, trusting you with responsibilities that feel like they belong to someone else—someone more experienced, more confident.

It’s strange, surreal even, that Satoru would entrust you with such a significant role. Even if this is just a charade, this role requires more than just understanding the business. It requires being a partner in the truest sense.

“So…you’re serious about this? Gojo Corporation, we’re doing this together now?” you ask, returning to your seat, your voice carrying a hint of uncertainty as you search his eyes for reassurance.

Satoru nods.

“Absolutely. I think it’s time we show everyone what a true power couple looks like,” he replies, punctuating his words with a wink.

Leaning forward, he rests his chin in the cradle of his hand as he props his elbow casually on the table. His gaze locks onto yours, a glint of something more behind his deep blue eyes.

“Besides,” he continues, his voice softening slightly, “the office just isn’t the same without you.”

You take a slow bite of your toast, savoring the buttery warmth as it spreads across your tongue, but it’s nothing compared to the unexpected warmth blossoming in your chest at his words.

“Yeah, right,” you murmur, “You just want to make me do all the paperwork."

His grin broadens, the corners of his mouth lifting into that familiar, dangerously charming smile that always seems to disarm you.

"Guilty as charged."

Haru reaches out eagerly, her tiny fingers wiggling with impatience.

“Toast!” she demands with all the confidence and adorable assertiveness of a two-year-old.

You tear off a small piece and place it into her eagerly awaiting hand. She takes it with a giggle, her eyes lighting up as she munches happily.

As you lift your toast back up to your lips, you catch Satoru’s gaze lingering on you. There is a subtle shift in his expression—a depth of emotion, a certain tenderness that makes you wonder what he could be thinking.

"What?" you ask, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your tone, though you’re not entirely sure why.

He doesn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch as a grin tugs at the corners of his lips. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he finally speaks.

"Nothing," he eventually says with a playful yet genuine edge. “It’s just... interesting to see you choose something so ordinary.”

“Sometimes less is more.” you counter, a hint of challenge in your voice. “Besides, not everyone grew up with chefs and staff at their beck and call. It’s a bit much sometimes.”

Satoru leans back in his chair, the smirk widening as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Oh? Are you saying my lifestyle is too much for you?”

You gesture broadly around the lavish room.

"Look at all this,” you exclaim, your voice tinged with a mix of awe and exasperation. “The staff, the gourmet meals, the constant attention. It's like I'm living in a palace. I can't breathe without someone trying to do something for me, and I can’t even cook for Haru without feeling like I'm stepping on someone's toes."

The words spill out before you can catch them, each one landing with a weight you hadn’t fully anticipated. There’s an undercurrent of something deeper in your tone, a tension that has been simmering just below the surface—an unease that you’ve been trying to push aside, but now, in this moment, it bubbles over, impossible to ignore.

Satoru’s gaze sharpens and he arches an eyebrow as he catches the subtle shift in your demeanor.

"You miss cooking?" his voice softening with genuine interest.

“Yeah, I do,” you confess, your voice tinged with a mix of longing and resignation. “It’s one of the few things that makes me feel grounded, like I’m in control of something. Plus, Haru loves my cooking.”

He regards you with an intensity that catches you off guard.

“I didn’t realize you felt that way. You know… you’re welcome to cook whenever you want. This is your home too, after all.”

There’s a brief pause as he seems to mull something over, his eyes distant before snapping back to yours with a newfound determination. He leans forward slightly, his eyes locked onto yours.

“How about this—you cook dinner tonight? I’ll tell the chef to take the night off.”

You blink, momentarily taken aback by the offer.

“You’d really do that?”

"Why not?" he says with a shrug. "This is your home now, for the next year at least. Besides, it’ll be nice to see you in your element, and I’m curious to taste your cooking."

A spark of excitement flickers within you at the idea, the thought of returning to something familiar and comforting lifting your spirits.

“Alright then,” you agree, a playful challenge in your tone. “But don’t complain if it doesn’t meet your gourmet standards.”

“I’m sure it will be perfect,” he responds, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that sends a ripple of anticipation through you.

He leans in closer, his elbow resting on the table as he tilts his head, his intense gaze locking onto yours. The proximity makes your heart skip a beat, the air between you charged with an unspoken connection.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he adds, his voice low, almost a whisper, as if sharing a secret meant only for you.

You hold his gaze, trying to maintain your composure, though you can feel a flutter in your chest.

“Just promise me you won’t hover in the kitchen,” you quip, lifting an eyebrow as you lean back slightly, creating a bit of space to steady your racing heart.

Satoru’s grin only widens, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes as he mirrors your movement, leaning back as well.

“No promises. I might want to learn a thing or two."

You cross your arms, challenging him with a smirk and a pointed look.

“You? Help out in the kitchen?”

The disbelief in your voice is clear, though a small smile tugs at your lips. The idea of him, the polished and ever-confident Satoru, navigating the chaos of a kitchen is almost too absurd to imagine.

He laughs, a rich sound that fills the room, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Hey, I can follow directions,” he protests, his grin broadening. “Just tell me what to do.”

You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head in mock exasperation.

“We’ll see about that,” you quip, though there’s a part of you that’s curious—maybe even hopeful—that he might actually surprise you.

Before you can say more, Haru claps her hands together excitedly, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“Mama cooking! Yay!” she exclaims, bouncing in her highchair.

You laugh softly, ruffling her hair with affection.

“Yes, mama’s cooking tonight,” you confirm, the warmth in your voice mirroring the smile on your face.

Satoru watches the exchange with a softening gaze, a rare moment of quiet sincerity passing over his features. But then, with a stretch that seems to shake off the sentiment, he stands up, rolling his shoulders back.

“In the meantime,” he says, tone shifting back to business, “we should probably get ready to head to the office. There’s a lot we need to cover.”

ꨄ︎

As the car pulls up to the grand entrance of Gojo Corporation, you take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

It feels as though an eternity has passed since you last walked through those imposing doors, yet as you gaze up at the sleek, formidable building, a wave of familiarity washes over you, making it seem as if nothing has changed.

The towering glass structure looms above, its mirrored surface catching the early morning sun and casting a dazzling array of shimmering light that dances across the pavement. The reflections create an almost ethereal glow around the building.

As the sleek glass doors of Gojo Corporation glide open with a quiet whoosh, you and Satoru step through together, hand in hand.

The lobby unfolds before you, just as you remembered—spacious, modern, and a testament to impeccable design.

Polished marble floors stretch out beneath your feet, gleaming like a mirror under the bright, strategically placed lights. The air is filled with a soft, steady hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional click of heels against the floor.

Familiar faces turn towards you, their polite smiles masking the flickers of curiosity and speculation that dance in their eyes. You can feel the weight of their gazes, each glance a blend of respect tinged with a subtle undercurrent of skepticism.

The whispers are almost tangible, a low murmur that follows you as you move further into the lobby, their eyes tracking your every step.

Your hand instinctively tightens around Satoru’s, seeking reassurance in his steady presence. Satoru’s grip is firm yet comforting, his thumb brushing gently against the back of your hand in a silent gesture of support.

He leads you further into the lobby, his posture exuding confidence and ease, as if he’s entirely unbothered by the attention.

Each of your footsteps against the polished floor brings a flood of memories to you. There’s a palpable sense of nostalgia, a bittersweet longing for the simplicity and familiarity of your old workspace.

But everything has changed, hasn’t it?

Now, you’re his wife—at least, that’s the role you must play.

The weight of that title hangs heavy on your shoulders, transforming the once-familiar surroundings into a stage where every glance, every whisper carries a different meaning.

And Satoru—he has changed too.

The carefree son of the CEO you once knew has evolved into a leader in his own right. The transformation is subtle yet profound, etched in the way he carries himself, the way he interacts with the staff, and the way he commands respect without demanding it.

You can see the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, a mantle he has taken up with a quiet determination.

As you approach the elevators, Satoru’s hand slips from yours, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin as he reaches out to press the button.

The elevator doors slide open with a quiet, mechanical whisper, revealing the sleek, mirrored interior. You both step inside, the soft hum of the elevator filling the space with a steady, soothing rhythm.

Satoru glances at you, his eyes catching the soft light reflecting off the polished walls. There’s a small, reassuring smile on his lips, one that carries a hint of warmth and something deeper—perhaps a silent promise that everything will be alright.

“So,” he begins, his voice casual, though you can sense the underlying focus in his tone, “today we have a meeting regarding a potential corporate merger with Mei-Mei's company.”

“Mei-Mei… I remember her,” you say, your brow furrowing slightly as you search your memory. “Isn't she from that high-end tech company?”

Satoru nods and leans casually against the elevator wall, his posture relaxed but his mind clearly working.

“That’s right,” he confirms, his voice steady and assured. “She’s quite influential in her field, a key player in the tech industry. This merger could be a significant step for us, opening doors to new technologies and markets.”

As his words sink in, you feel a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. You swallow hard, trying to push down the unease that’s bubbling up inside you.

“Alright. What’s our approach for the meeting?”

Satoru’s eyes meet yours, his gaze steady and reassuring. There’s a quiet confidence in his expression, a belief in your abilities that helps to steady your nerves.

“We’ll present our strengths,” he explains. “We’ll show them what we can bring to the table, the value we offer. Your insights will be invaluable, so don’t hesitate to speak up. Just be yourself. That’s more than enough.”

You nod, drawing in a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your chest.

“Got it,” you reply, your voice more resolute now, bolstered by his confidence in you.

The elevator dings softly, and the doors glide open to reveal the executive floor, a space imbued with quiet power and understated elegance.

Satoru walks ahead, his stride confident and purposeful, and you follow closely, drawing strength from his unwavering presence.

As you enter the conference room, your eyes immediately land on Mei-Mei, already seated at the expansive table. She’s impeccably dressed, exuding an air of effortless elegance and control.

The moment she spots Satoru, her eyes light up with a warmth that feels just a bit too personal. A slow, sultry smile spreads across her lips as she rises gracefully from her chair.

“Satoru, darling,” she purrs, her voice smooth and honeyed as she glides toward him with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what she wants. “It’s been far too long.”

Seeing her in person brings a rush of memories, sharp and unbidden—the sound of her voice, the way she says his name...

Mei-Mei isn’t just any business associate— she’s the woman who was once poised to step into the very role you now occupy.

Satoru’s father had been persistent he consider her for marriage, a match that had been pushed on him relentlessly.

The realization sharpens your senses, and as Mei-Mei continues to hold Satoru’s gaze with practiced ease, you steel yourself, determined not to let old rivalries or lingering doubts shake your confidence.

Satoru smiles politely, his expression composed and unreadable as he extends a hand to her.

“Mei-Mei,” he greets her, his tone smooth and diplomatic. “Always a pleasure.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes flicker with satisfaction as she accepts his hand, her touch light and fleeting, like a whisper of silk.

Her gaze shifts to you as she releases his hand, a spark of curiosity mingling with something more calculated behind her eyes.

“And who might this be?” she inquires, her voice carrying a subtle edge, as if she’s already assessing your worth.

“This is my wife, y/n” Satoru says smoothly, his hand finding yours. “She’ll be joining us for the meeting.”

Mei-Mei’s smile curves at the edges, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which narrow slightly as she studies you more closely.

“Of course,” she says, her tone dripping with courtesy that feels just a shade too polished. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

She pauses, her gaze sharpening with a hint of challenge.

“I must say, I haven’t heard of you before. What family do you come from?”

A twinge of discomfort ripples through you, a reminder of the stark difference in backgrounds. You swallow slightly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I... I don’t come from a well-known family,” you admit, the words feeling heavier than they should. “I’ve worked with Satoru at Gojo Corporation for the past year.”

Mei-Mei’s smile shifts, the corners of her lips lifting just a fraction, but there’s a condescending glint in her eyes now.

“Oh, I see,” she replies, her voice laced with a faint, dismissive amusement. “How quaint.”

You force a smile, though it feels tight on your lips, refusing to let her patronizing attitude get under your skin.

As you move to take your seat at the table, you watch as she leans in closer to Satoru, her fingers grazing his arm in a gesture that seems almost too casual, too familiar.

“I must say, Satoru,” Mei-Mei purrs, her voice smooth and saccharine, like honey with a hint of venom, “you’ve been doing an impressive job with the company. Your father would be proud.”

Satoru nods, keeping his tone professional.

“Thank you, Mei-Mei. We’ve made some significant strides, and I’m optimistic about the potential this merger holds for both of our companies.”

“Of course, Satoru. I’m sure we can work out something that benefits both parties. After all,” she adds, her gaze lingering on him with a knowing smile, “we’ve always made a great team, haven’t we?”

Determined to assert your own presence, you clear your throat softly and lean forward, your gaze steady and unyielding.

“I’m looking forward to seeing how our strengths can complement each other,” you interject smoothly. “There’s a lot we can achieve together.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes flicker to you. She offers a tight smile, the warmth in her expression barely masking the sharpness beneath.

“Indeed,” she concedes, her tone now laced with a hint of challenge. “Let’s make this a success, shall we?”

The meeting begins, and you do your best to focus on the discussion, but Mei-Mei’s constant flirtation with Satoru gnaws at your nerves like a persistent thorn.

You can feel the tension building within you, your hands clenched tightly in your lap as you force yourself to remain composed, every muscle in your body taut with restraint.

Mei-Mei finds every opportunity to brush her fingers against Satoru’s arm, her touch lingering just a second too long. Her laughter rings out, a bit too loud and a touch too sweet, echoing off the walls of the conference room.

Every compliment she directs at Satoru is overly effusive, dripping with a familiarity that sets your teeth on edge.

Satoru, to his credit, remains the picture of professionalism.

His responses are polite but distant, a carefully maintained detachment that you admire even as it does little to quell the irritation bubbling inside you. He’s skilled at sidestepping her advances with an almost practiced ease, deflecting her attempts to draw him into her web of flirtation.

But despite his composed demeanor, each of Mei-Mei’s calculated gestures feels like a test—a deliberate provocation meant to unsettle you, to remind you of the history that lingers between them.

The subtle, unspoken challenge in her eyes whenever she glances your way only fuels the fire simmering within you.

“So, Satoru,” Mei-Mei says, leaning closer to him, “about the merger terms, I believe we should consider revising the profit-sharing ratio. It would be beneficial for both parties.”

Her tone is persuasive, almost coaxing, as she tilts her head slightly, letting her hair fall in a way that draws attention to the graceful curve of her neck.

But before Satoru can respond, you lean forward, your voice calm yet firm, cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Actually, if you look at the numbers, the current ratio is fair and balanced, ensuring both companies benefit equally from this partnership.”

For a split second, annoyance flashes in Mei-Mei’s eyes, a subtle tightening at the corners of her mouth betraying her irritation. But she quickly masks it with a polished smile, her expression smoothing over as if the moment of discord never happened.

“I see,” she replies, her voice still honeyed but with a slight edge. “Well, perhaps we can discuss this further in detail later.”

Satoru, ever the diplomat, nods in agreement, his tone steady and measured.

“We can certainly revisit that point,” he says, his gaze shifting between you and Mei-Mei, acknowledging both perspectives. “But for now, let’s proceed with the agenda.”

As the conversation continues, Mei-Mei’s relentless flirtations with Satoru are becoming more and more unbearable.

Each coy glance she throws Satoru’s way chips away at your composure, and you find it harder and harder to maintain the calm facade you’ve been desperately clinging to.

Just when you think you can’t endure it any longer, Satoru glances at his watch and suggests,

“Let’s take a short break. We’ll reconvene in fifteen minutes.”

The words are like a lifeline tossed to a drowning person.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you mutter, barely managing to keep the tremor out of your voice as you slip out of the room.

The moment you’re out of sight, you quicken your pace, your footsteps echoing in the hallway as you make a beeline for the supply room. The small, confined space offers a momentary refuge from the oppressive atmosphere of the conference room.

As you close the door behind you, the faint scent of paper and office supplies envelops you, oddly comforting in its familiarity, like a reminder of simpler times.

You start to rummage through the supplies, your hands moving automatically as you try to distract yourself from the image of Mei-Mei’s hands brushing against Satoru’s arm, her laughter echoing in your ears.

The memory plays on a loop in your mind, fueling the frustration that bubbles just beneath the surface.

You grab a few items—a stack of sticky notes, a box of paperclips—and begin organizing them on the shelf, your movements precise, almost mechanical.

Moments later, the door creaks open, and you look up to see Satoru standing in the doorway, a nostalgic smile on his face.

“Doesn’t look like you’re taking much of a break.”

“I guess old habits die hard,” your voice clipped, betraying the frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

“Seeing you in here brings back memories,” he continues, stepping further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the shelves as if he, too, is remembering the countless times you’d both found yourselves in this very spot, buried in work and conversation.

The familiarity of it should be comforting, but today, it only amplifies the growing disarray you feel inside. You huff, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Since I’ve been gone, it’s obvious someone isn’t doing the supply order right,” you gesture sharply to the cluttered shelves. “Everything’s out of place.”

He chuckles softly, closing the distance between you with a few steps.

“You always were meticulous about these things. Guess no one can do it quite like you.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you turn back to the shelves.

“This whole day has been a mess,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him, the words escaping in a rush of pent-up emotion.

Each item you straighten feels like an attempt to impose order on something far more chaotic than these shelves—a futile effort to regain control in a situation that seems increasingly out of your grasp.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against a shelf, his posture relaxed but his eyes attentive.

“Really? I thought things were going well,” he remarks, a hint of confusion in his voice.

You turn to face him, your frustration bubbling over, no longer containable.

“Well, they’re not,” you snap, the sharpness in your voice surprising even yourself. “This merger? It’s a terrible idea. It’s obvious Mei-Mei is just trying to squeeze as much revenue out of this deal as possible, and you’re letting her.”

Satoru’s teasing expression falters, replaced by one of seriousness. He uncrosses his arms, his posture shifting as he takes a step closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that wasn’t there before.

“What makes you say that?”

You cross your arms defensively, glaring at him.

“The terms she’s proposing are ridiculous. She’s pushing for more than her company deserves.”

“Why didn’t you say something during the meeting?” he counters, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

You throw your hands up in exasperation, your emotions spilling over.

“How could I?” you quip, the words escaping in a rush. “Mei-Mei was too busy batting her eyelashes and finding any excuse to touch you. Every time I tried to speak, she’d cut me off or distract you with some flirtatious nonsense.”

Satoru’s eyebrow arches, and for a moment, a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Are you jealous?”

Your cheeks flush involuntarily, and you turn back to the shelves, grabbing a stack of papers and slamming them down with more force than necessary.

“Of course not,” you retort, your voice tinged with frustration. “It’s just... unprofessional.”

He doesn’t back down, the smirk still playing on his lips as he steps closer, closing the distance between you until he’s right in front of you.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know that?” he murmurs, his tone playful, almost affectionate.

That’s the last straw.

Your patience, already worn thin, finally snaps.

“You know what? It's hard enough trying to fit into this world without someone like her treating me like I don’t belong!”

You shove the papers aside, the sound of them scattering across the table punctuating your words, and start to walk past him, needing to escape the confined space.

Satoru’s smirk vanishes as he realizes the depth of your frustration. He grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks, and pulls you back to him. His grip is firm but gentle, his eyes searching yours for understanding.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice sincere. “I didn’t realize how much this was bothering you.”

You look up at him, your vision blurring slightly as tears threaten to spill over. The vulnerability you’ve been trying to hold back finally breaks through, and the words tumble out before you can stop them.

“It’s just... it’s not easy being here, Satoru,” you confess, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “I feel out of place, like I don’t belong and I’m constantly being judged. It’s like everyone’s waiting for me to fail.”

He tilts his head slightly, his gaze softening as he studies your face, reading the depth of your distress.

“This isn’t just about Mei-Mei, is it?” he asks gently. “Does this have anything to do with that guy at the gala last night? The one that was overly familiar with you at the bar?”

You blink in surprise, taken aback by his perceptiveness.

“What? No, this is different,” you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation.

“Is it?” he presses gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your back of your hand. “Because I saw how he looked at you. And how uncomfortable you seemed.”

You shake your head, a mixture of frustration and exasperation bubbling to the surface.

“Naoya was just being his usual self, trying to provoke me,” you say dismissively.

“Naoya, huh?” Satoru’s voice hardens slightly, his expression darkening at the mention of the name. “He didn’t just try to provoke you. He was trying to undermine you in front of everyone. Who is that guy to you?”

The intensity in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat, and you can see that Satoru isn’t just curious—he’s genuinely concerned, and more than a little angry.

The protective edge in his voice tells you that he’s not going to let this go easily, and you realize that he’s picking up on more than you’d like to admit.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you weigh your words carefully.

“He’s... he’s Haru’s father,” you finally admit, the words leaving your lips in a hesitant whisper.

Satoru’s eyes widen in shock, the sudden revelation hitting him like a physical blow.

“What? Haru’s father? Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s a sharpness in his tone now, not out of anger, but out of the raw emotion of being blindsided by something so significant.

You drop your gaze, unable to meet his eyes, the weight of your past suddenly feeling like too much to bear.

“I didn’t want to burden you with my past,” you say quietly, your voice thick with regret.

For a moment, there’s silence, thick and heavy between you, and you can feel the tension radiating off him.

But then, gently, he lifts your chin with his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch is tender, his expression softening as he looks into your eyes, searching for the truth in them.

“You’re not a burden,” he says firmly, his voice steady, leaving no room for doubt. “And Haru is part of your life. That means she’s part of mine now too.”

You hesitate, the weight of his words settling over you as you struggle to find the right response.

“Satoru, I... I just didn’t know how to bring it up,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly with the vulnerability of the confession. “I didn’t want to complicate things. It’s just… I feel like I’m constantly being tested, like I have to prove myself over and over again.”

The words spill out in a rush, the pent-up emotions you’ve been holding back finally breaking free.

He sighs softly, his expression softening as he reaches out, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he says, his voice gentle, but there’s an underlying seriousness in his tone. “But we can’t have any more secrets between us during this arrangement. If we’re going to make this work, we need to be honest with each other.”

The sincerity in his eyes, the warmth in his touch—it all combines to create a sense of safety, a reassurance that you’re not alone in this, even if this is just a charade, it’s the comfort you desperately need.

Tears well up in your eyes again, threatening to spill out as your emotions overwhelm you. You nod, swallowing hard to keep your voice steady.

“I understand,” you whisper, “no more secrets.”

Without a word, Satoru pulls you into a gentle embrace, his arms encircling you with a tenderness that takes you by surprise.

He holds you close, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm against your ear. “You do belong, y/n. And I’m not going to let anyone—Mei-Mei, Naoya, or anyone else—make you feel otherwise.”

As he speaks, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, and for a moment, you simply melt into his embrace, letting the warmth and security he provides wash over you.

Your heart races as his hand slowly moves up, fingers gently threading through your hair, his touch so tender it makes your breath hitch. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breath warm against your ear, grounding you in this shared moment of vulnerability.

But then, you pull back slightly, looking up at him, and it’s only then that you truly realize how close you are.

Your faces are mere inches apart, and the intensity in his gaze is almost overwhelming, drawing your attention to the way his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening as you feel the magnetic pull between you, the tension thick in the air.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leans in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, anticipation building as his lips draw nearer.

But just before they brush against yours, a sliver of doubt crosses your mind—the reality of the situation, reminding you of where you are, and what you are to each other.

You pull back slightly, your voice barely a whisper.

“We should probably head back to the meeting.”

Though you say the words, your voice lacks conviction, betraying your true feelings.

Satoru’s eyes search yours for a moment longer, his forehead resting gently against yours as he takes a deep breath, the sound filled with a mix of reluctance and understanding.

He slowly pulls back, his hand lingering on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“Yeah, we should,” he agrees softly, though his tone carries the weight of unspoken emotions.

His hand slips from your cheek, the absence of his touch leaving you feeling a bit colder.

“Let’s get back to it.”

ꨄ︎

As you re-enter the conference room, Mei-Mei is already seated, her perfectly manicured nails tapping impatiently on the table.

She looks up as you and Satoru take your seats, a sly, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“Ah, there you are,” she says, her tone dripping with faux sweetness, the honeyed edge barely masking the underlying condescension. “Shall we continue?”

Satoru clears his throat, his expression carefully neutral as he regains his composure. There’s a subtle shift in his demeanor, a steely resolve that wasn’t there before.

“Right, let’s continue where we left off.”

Mei-Mei’s smile deepens, saccharine sweet and just as poisonous, as she resumes her position with an air of unshakable confidence.

She leans forward slightly, her fingers stilling as she clasps her hands together, a picture of poised professionalism.

“Of course,” she purrs. “Now, as I was saying, the merger terms we’re proposing are quite favorable, especially considering the current market conditions. I’m confident that with a little cooperation, we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement. Perhaps we can revisit the profit-sharing ratio?”

Her words are delivered with the precision of someone who’s used to getting her way, but you can feel the subtle shift in her gaze as it flickers toward you, her eyes cold and calculating.

You glance at Satoru, seeking the silent reassurance that only he can offer in this moment.

He meets your gaze and gives you a subtle nod, the unspoken signal you’ve been waiting for. Your heart pounds in your chest, the adrenaline surging as you realize that this is your moment.

It’s now or never.

Summoning every ounce of courage within you, you rise from your seat, your voice steady and clear as it cuts through the tension in the room.

“Actually, we’ve reconsidered,” you begin, each word carefully measured. “After reviewing the terms, we’ve decided that moving forward with this merger is not in the best interest of Gojo Corporation.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes widen in surprise, her carefully crafted facade slipping for just a fraction of a second. The shock in her expression is almost imperceptible, but you catch it, the brief crack in her confidence before she quickly regains her composure.

“Excuse me?” she demands, her voice sharp with incredulity. “Are you saying you’re rejecting our proposal?”

You meet her gaze unflinchingly, standing firm with a resolve that surprises even you.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” you reply, your voice steady and unyielding. “The terms you’re proposing are not equitable, and it’s clear that your company stands to gain disproportionately from this deal. We’re not interested in a partnership that doesn’t offer balanced benefits.”

Mei-Mei’s smile tightens, the corners of her lips pulling into a strained curve as she processes your words. Her composure is slipping, the veneer of control cracking as she realizes she’s losing her grip on the situation.

Desperation flickers in her eyes as she glances toward Satoru, clearly hoping to find an ally in him.

“Satoru,” her tone laced with forced sweetness, “surely we can discuss this further—”

“I trust my wife’s judgment completely,” Satoru leans back in his chair with a calm confidence, a proud smile playing on his lips as he watches you take control of the situation. “If she says the deal isn’t right for us, then we won’t proceed.”

The finality in his tone leaves no room for negotiation and the impact of his words is immediate.

Mei-Mei’s expression falters, the last traces of her confident facade slipping away as frustration and disbelief flicker in her eyes. She forces a tight smile, nodding curtly, her eyes hardening.

“I see. Well, it’s your loss. Our offer was quite generous.”

You hold her gaze, unflinching.

“We’ll find another opportunity that aligns better with our goals. Thank you for your time.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes narrow slightly, but she says nothing more. Instead, she gathers her things with an icy precision, each movement deliberate as she rises from her seat.

The tension in the room is palpable as she turns on her heel and strides toward the door, her demeanor frosty, the sting of defeat evident in her rigid posture. The door closes behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the suddenly quiet room.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the tension slowly melting away as a surge of relief and empowerment floods through you.

The adrenaline rush of standing your ground leaves you feeling both exhilarated and slightly shaky, but there’s also a newfound confidence simmering beneath the surface—a realization that you’re more than capable of handling whatever comes your way.

Satoru turns to you, his smile widening with pride as he meets your gaze.

“You handled that perfectly,” the warmth in his voice is like a reassuring embrace.

You return his smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over you.

“Thanks. I guess I just needed to find my voice.”

And find it you did.

ꨄ︎

As the sun begins to set, it casts a warm, golden glow through the expansive windows of the Gojo residence kitchen.

The light dances across the sleek, modern space, highlighting the clean lines of stainless-steel appliances and the smooth, cool surface of marble countertops.

You stand at the kitchen island, surrounded by a colorful array of ingredients—vibrant tomatoes, fragrant basil, and glistening cuts of meat, each carefully selected for the evening’s meal.

Satoru walks in, rolling up his sleeves with a playful grin lighting up his face.

“So, Chef,” he says with a teasing lilt in his voice, leaning casually against the counter as he takes in the scene before him. His blue eyes sparkle with excitement, “What’s on the menu tonight?”

You glance up from the cutting board, catching his gaze.

There’s a lightness in his demeanor, a boyish enthusiasm that makes you smile in return. The way he looks at you—like you’re the most interesting part of his day—sends a flutter of warmth through your chest.

“Nothing fancy. Just some homemade pasta and a simple salad. I hope that’s okay with you, Mr. Gourmet.”

“Sounds perfect,” he grins, moving to your side, ready to help. “What can I do?”

You hand him a cutting board and a knife, pointing to a colorful pile of vegetables waiting to be prepped.

“You can start by chopping these for the salad.”

He takes the knife, looking at it a bit awkwardly and glances at you with a sheepish grin.

“Alright, let’s see if I remember how to do this without losing a finger.”

You can’t help but watch with amusement as he makes a few tentative cuts, each slice uneven and clumsy. It’s clear he’s out of practice—or perhaps he never had much to begin with.

The sight of him, usually so confident, struggling with something so simple brings a smile to your face.

“Here, let me show you,” you say, moving to stand beside him.

Sliding closer, you place your hand over his on the knife handle, your touch gentle yet firm.

“You want to keep your fingers tucked in like this,” you instruct, demonstrating with your own hand, ensuring his fingers are safely out of the knife’s path. “And use a rocking motion with the knife, letting the blade do the work.”

You move his hand with yours, the rhythm of the knife creating a soothing pattern.

Satoru watches you intently, the proximity making your heart race. The warmth of his hand beneath yours sends a shiver up your spine.

As you continue to guide him, your hands move together in sync, and you can’t help but notice the way his focus shifts from the vegetables to you, his blue eyes flickering with something deeper than just concentration.

“Got it,” he murmurs softly.

You continue to guide his hand, feeling the rhythm of the chopping become smoother.

“Like this?”

“Exactly,” you reply, meeting his gaze, your heart fluttering at the intensity in his eyes. “See? It’s not so hard once you get the hang of it.”

He chuckles, and his eyes remain locked on yours, a playful spark mingling with the more serious undercurrent in his expression.

“Not hard at all, especially with such a good teacher.”

The moment lingers, the air between you charged with a newfound intimacy. Reluctantly, you step back, breaking the spell as you release your hold on the knife.

“I think you’ve got it from here.”

Satoru nods, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he returns to the vegetables with a newfound determination.

There is a new awareness in the way he handles the knife, as if he’s carrying forward the memory of your touch.

The two of you work in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the sizzle of garlic in the pan.

It feels oddly domestic, a far cry from the high-stakes world of corporate mergers and charity galas.

The simplicity of this moment, shared in the soft light of the kitchen, is a refreshing contrast to the complexities of your usual lives.

“You know, I never imagined I’d be doing something like this,” Satoru admits after a while, his voice breaking the silence. “But I’m glad I am.”

You glance over at him, catching the sincerity in his eyes, and you can’t help but smile.

“Cooking is kind of therapeutic for me, you know,” you say, your voice thoughtful as you turn your attention back to the task at hand. “It helps me clear my mind, and it’s something I can control, unlike so many other things in life.”

Satoru watches you for a moment, his expression softening as he absorbs your words. There’s a quiet admiration in his gaze, one that you can feel even without looking at him.

“You know, I gotta say, you’re really good at this.”

“Hm? Cooking?” you ask, glancing up at him with a curious tilt of your head.

“No,” his voice softens. “Balancing everything. Being a mother, dealing with me, and now standing up in that meeting. You’re incredible.”

His words catch you off guard, the sincerity in his tone wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace.

Your cheeks flush at the unexpected compliment, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the heat of the stove.

For a moment, you’re at a loss for words, the gravity of his praise settling in. You turn your attention back to the stove, stirring the sauce with a renewed focus, using the task to steady yourself.

“Thanks, Satoru,” you finally manage. “That means a lot.”

As you continue to cook, the tension of the day begins to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm that settles over you like a warm blanket.

The kitchen fills with the rich, mouthwatering aroma of simmering tomatoes, fresh basil, and garlic, the scents mingling together to create an atmosphere that feels both comforting and intimate.

Satoru moves beside you with surprising grace, each motion purposeful and smooth, belying his earlier claims of inexperience.

You find yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the toned muscles of his forearms as he works.

There’s a quiet concentration in his expression, a focus that draws you in, making it impossible not to notice the way he’s completely absorbed in the task at hand.

“Looks like you’re a natural.”

Your words earn you a grin, his usual playfulness shining through.

“Don’t jinx it,” he warns, making a particularly precise cut with the knife, his movements confident and sure.

You laugh, the sound light and carefree as you turn back to the sauce simmering on the stove.

“I think it’s time to taste this,” you say, stirring the rich, fragrant mixture with a wooden spoon. “Want to give it a try?”

Satoru nods, stepping closer, the space between you narrowing as he joins you at the stove.

You scoop a bit of the sauce onto a spoon, blowing on it gently to cool it down before lifting it to your lips for a taste. The rich, tangy flavors explode on your tongue, the perfect balance of sweetness and acidity.

“Mmm, I think it’s almost perfect,” you murmur, savoring the taste, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you let the flavors linger.

“Almost?” he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of challenge.

You smile, opening your eyes to find his gaze fixed on you, the intensity in his blue eyes sending a shiver down your spine.

“Here, taste,” you say, holding the spoon up to his lips, your hand steady.

He leans in, his movements slow and deliberate, every inch closer making your heart beat a little faster. His eyes remain locked on yours with an unspoken intensity, and as his lips close around the spoon, you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for his reaction.

There’s a brief pause as he savors the sauce, his expression thoughtful.

“Wow, that’s delicious,” his voice low and sincere.

Just as you’re about to smile in response, you feel a light touch on your lip. Before you can react, Satoru reaches out, his thumb gently swiping at the corner of your mouth where a bit of sauce had lingered.

The unexpected contact sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath catching in your throat.

Without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his own lips, tasting the sauce with a playful smirk that leaves you momentarily speechless.

“Now that’s perfect.”

The simple gesture, so intimate and unassuming, leaves you flustered, warmth spreading through your cheeks.

The kitchen seemed to grow smaller and the air thicker.

You quickly turn your attention back to stirring the pasta, desperately trying to steady your racing heart and regain your composure as you move the spoon in slow, deliberate circles.

“You always know how to make things interesting,” you manage to say, your voice betraying the flutter of nerves that Satoru has stirred up.

He chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through the small space between you, and you feel him step closer until his chest is nearly brushing against your back.

The warmth of his presence wraps around you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and something more—something electric.

“I could say the same about you,” his breath warm against your ear.

You turn slightly, your breath catching as you realize just how close he is. His blue eyes, so focused and intense, lock onto yours, and the world seems to narrow to just the two of you.

Satoru leans in, his voice dropping to a soft murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You have a way of making everything more exciting, y/n.”

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry as your eyes flicker to his lips and then back to his eyes.

The pull between you is magnetic, undeniable, and you struggle to maintain your composure.

“Maybe it’s just because you’re so easily entertained,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to diffuse the intensity of the moment with a hint of playfulness.

He grins, the expression sending your heart into a wild flutter.

Slowly, his hand moves to rest on the counter beside you, effectively trapping you in place. The gesture is subtle yet commanding, his body language exuding a quiet confidence that leaves you feeling both exhilarated and breathless.

“Or maybe it’s because you’re just that captivating,” he counters, his voice a hushed rumble that sends another wave of warmth through you.

“Okaaay, Mr. Smooth Talker,” you manage to say, your voice tinged with nervous laughter as you attempt to regain some semblance of control. “How about you help me with the garlic bread?”

The suggestion is your lifeline, a way to shift the focus and calm your racing heart before you’re completely lost in the moment.

Satoru’s grin widens, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

“Whatever you need, Chef,” he replies, his tone lightening as he pushes away from the counter and moves to the other side of the kitchen.

The distance between you offers a brief reprieve, allowing you to steady your breathing and refocus on the task at hand.

Get it together—this isn’t real.

ꨄ︎

The table is set with a simple elegance that mirrors the meal you’ve prepared—fresh pasta topped with a rich, fragrant tomato sauce, golden garlic bread still warm from the oven, and a crisp, colorful salad that adds a splash of vibrancy to the setting.

Haru, already seated with her eyes wide in anticipation, swings her little legs under the table, her excitement palpable.

“Mama, pasta!” she exclaims, her voice filled with childlike wonder.

Her gaze flickers from the steaming plates to the basket of garlic bread, her small hands already reaching for a slice as if she can hardly wait another moment.

Satoru chuckles as he takes his seat beside her, his smile widening at the sight of her enthusiasm.

“Patience, Haru,” he teases, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Let’s wait for your mama to sit down.”

You join them at the table, a soft smile playing on your lips as you take in the scene.

Carefully, you begin to serve the plates, starting with Haru. You scoop a generous portion of pasta onto her plate, the rich tomato sauce clinging perfectly to the tender strands.

“There you go, sweetie,” you say with a smile, placing the plate in front of her. “But remember, eat slowly, okay? We have all the time in the world.”

Haru nods eagerly, though you can tell she’s barely restraining herself. Her little fingers curl around her fork, her eyes never leaving the plate as she prepares to dive in.

Next, you turn to Satoru, serving him a plate with equal care.

The pasta glistens under the soft light, the aroma of garlic and herbs wafting up as you set it before him.

As you place the plate down, his eyes meet yours, and in that brief moment, there’s a silent exchange—one of gratitude, warmth, and something deeper, something unspoken but understood.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

You nod in response, your heart warming at the connection between you, simple yet profound.

Meanwhile, Haru’s eyes widen even further as she finally takes her first bite.

The flavors burst in her mouth, her little face lighting up with pure delight. She chews enthusiastically, her expression one of sheer happiness, and you can’t help but smile at her reaction.

“Yummy!” she declares, her mouth full as she grins up at you.

Her words are filled with such genuine enthusiasm and innocence that it makes your heart swell with pride.

Satoru watches Haru with a fond smile before he too takes a bite of the meal you’ve lovingly prepared.

His expression shifts almost immediately to one of pleasant surprise, his eyes widening slightly as the flavors settle on his palate. He chews thoughtfully, savoring the blend of fresh ingredients and the care that went into the preparation.

“She’s right. This is amazing, you really outdid yourself.”

A smile spreads across your face, a warmth blooming in your chest at their praise.

It’s a simple meal, nothing extravagant, but the way they’re enjoying it makes it feel like the most special dinner in the world.

“I’m glad you both like it. It’s nice to be able to cook for you.”

As you begin to eat, the room fills with the sounds of contentment—Haru’s happy chatter as she dives into her meal, Satoru’s occasional hum of approval as he tastes each dish, and the gentle clinking of cutlery against plates.

The meal continues and the three of you fall into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing naturally.

Haru tells stories about her day, her voice animated as she shares every little detail. Satoru listens attentively, his focus on her unwavering, his smile growing with each of her excited exclamations.

At one point, Haru insists on feeding Satoru a bite of her pasta, her giggles bubbling up like a stream as she carefully maneuvers the fork towards his mouth.

Satoru, ever the playful one, exaggerates the motion, opening his mouth wide and making a show of how delicious the bite is. He rolls his eyes in mock ecstasy, his exaggerated reaction sending Haru into a fit of laughter that rings out like the purest music.

The way Satoru looks at Haru, with such genuine affection and warmth, causes a tightness in your chest—a beautiful, almost overwhelming sensation that swells within you.

His eyes are soft, his smile unguarded, and in that moment, you can see just how much he cherishes these little interactions with her.

It’s a sight that tugs at your heartstrings, making you realize just how deeply he’s become entwined in both your lives.

Taking in this moment, you feel a deep sense of contentment, a quiet happiness that fills your heart to the brim.

This scene, so ordinary yet so special, feels like a moment you want to hold onto forever.

It is a culmination of everything you’ve been striving for—a sense of belonging, of family, of home.

Ah, but this isn’t real—just a charade.

Just as this warmth settles in your heart, a pang of bittersweetness follows.

Yet, despite knowing the truth, you can’t help but wish, just for a moment, that it could be.

Haru, now tired from all the excitement, leans against Satoru, her small head resting on his arm. Her eyelids grow heavy, her earlier energy now spent, and she begins to drift off, her breaths becoming slow and rhythmic.

Satoru glances at you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.

“You know,” he begins, his voice low and sincere, “I could get used to this. We should cook more often. Sharing meals like this... it’s nice.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a second, the line between reality and pretense blurs. You nod, but your mind races.

This is just a charade… right?

Yet, as you look into Satoru’s eyes, the warmth there makes you question everything. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of him that feels the same way you do—a longing for this to be more than just an act.

ꨄ︎

The late afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains of the Gojo mansion, casting a warm golden grown across the living room.

You sit on the couch as Haru plays on the floor, completely absorbed in her toys, her little hands guiding her dolls through an imagined world of adventure and make-believe.

Her soft giggles and murmured conversations with her toys bring a smile to your face, filling the room with a sense of peace and contentment.

Satoru had business to attend to, and before leaving, he made sure you had the rest of the day to spend with Haru.

It’s a rare and treasured opportunity, these quiet hours spent together, free from the demands of the outside world.

As you watch Haru, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for this time—this simple, unhurried togetherness that feels so rare in your often chaotic lives.

But then, the doorbell rings, cutting through the tranquility like a sharp knife.

You glance toward the door, your heart giving a slight, uneasy flutter.

Pushing aside the apprehension creeping into your chest, you rise from the couch, taking a steadying breath as you approach the door.

When you open it, you’re met with the sight of a stern-looking man in a crisp suit, his expression as unyielding as his posture.

There’s something about his demeanor that instantly puts you on edge. He’s holding an envelope in one hand, his grip firm, almost as if the paper holds some kind of weight beyond its physical presence.

“Mrs. Gojo?” he asks, his voice flat, businesslike.

The formal tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you nod cautiously, a sense of dread unfurling in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes, that’s me,” you reply, your voice a little more tentative than you’d like.

Without another word, he thrusts the envelope into your hands, his gaze unwavering as he says,

“You’ve been served.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and ominous. Your fingers tighten around the envelope as confusion and alarm spike within you.

“Served? For what?” you ask, your voice betraying the anxiety that’s quickly rising.

The man’s expression remains unchanged, impassive.

“Custody of Haru. Mr. Naoya Zenin is filing for full custody,” he states matter-of-factly, as if it’s just another routine task for him, another case on a long list.

The shock of his words hits you like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat.

For a moment, you stand there frozen, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in as he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving you standing in the doorway, the envelope clutched tightly in your hand.

This can’t be happening.

With trembling hands, you tear open the envelope, your eyes darting across the densely packed lines of legal jargon. Each word seems to blur into the next as your heart pounds furiously in your chest.

This is happening.

A cold wave of dread washes over you, settling deep in your bones as the reality of the situation begins to take hold.

Just a few feet away, Haru is still playing in the living room, her laughter and cheerful babble a stark contrast to the turmoil that’s unraveling in your mind.

She’s completely oblivious to the storm that’s brewing, her innocence a painful reminder of what’s at stake.

As you stand there, frozen in place, your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your daze.

You glance down at the screen, your stomach knotting as you see Naoya’s name flash across it. With a sense of dread, you unlock the phone and read the message.

Naoya Zenin: There, hopefully I finally have your attention. I suggest giving me a call if you want to avoid this all.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, a toxic mix of fear and anger bubbling up inside you.

Your hands shake uncontrollably as you stare at the message, the smugness practically oozing from each word.

You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume you.

With shaky fingers, you dial Naoya’s number. Each ring feels like an eternity, and when he finally answers, his voice is dripping with satisfaction.

“Y/n, I was wondering when you’d call,” he purrs, his tone as smooth as ever, but laced with an unmistakable undercurrent of smugness.

“What the hell is this, Naoya?” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and fear. “You’re filing for full custody of Haru?”

There’s a pause, and you can almost hear the smirk in his voice when he finally responds. He chuckles softly, the sound sending chills down your spine.

“I see you got my notice. Good. It’s time we discussed Haru’s future.”

The casual tone in his voice, as if this is just another business deal, ignites a fire within you. But before you can respond, he continues, his voice turning colder.

“I’m sending you an address. Meet me here tomorrow. Oh, and y/n.” his voice drops, becoming even more sinister, “I strongly suggest you don’t involve Satoru—unless you want this to become a nasty custody battle.”

His words hang in the air, a thinly veiled threat that tightens around your chest like a vice.

You stand there, phone in hand, the weight of his ultimatum pressing down on you.

The line goes dead.

strap in guys we are approaching some angst 🥺 oh if only reader knew how down bad satoru is for her 🥲 i actually really struggled with how i wanted this chapter to be structured, there are a lot of scenes i ended up writing that i opted to move to a later chapter because i just felt it was too rushed. the slow burn of this relationship is really important to me, so ultimately, i think it was for the best. would love to hear your thoughts! thanks for reading my fic 🫶🏻 → onto the next chapter ꨄ

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pathologicalreid · 7 months ago

Text

kryptonite | s.r.

in which all roads lead to Spencer's apartment, at least they do for jareau!reader

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: fluff (some comfort (god knows spencer needs it)) content warnings: reader went to a bar, but she's not drunk, creepy guy follows her around, abandoned by her 'friends', takes place following 6x12 "corazon", spencer and reader's first tea date, spencer's migraine arc, jj is in the middle east, this fic definitely wasn't inspired by a 3 doors down song, ffofa!spencer, reader feels out of place in the BAU, sexual innuendo word count: 2.97k a/n: MY GIRL IS HOME i have been wanting to go back to jareau!reader since ffofa ended. i genuinely have their whole lives planned out.

Screwed. You were so totally completely screwed.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” The guy behind you asked once again, but he’d had more to drink than you. You wouldn’t trust yourself behind the wheel of a motor vehicle right now, much less a man who had leeched himself to you in a dive bar.

You laughed nervously, crossing your arms in front of your stomach protectively as you checked for passing cars before walking across the street. “Yeah, I’m sure,” you called over your shoulder, dreading the image of him following you around.

Slowly, you began recognizing your surroundings, the street name that you were turning onto ringing a bell—but which one? Somewhere you had seen the name, but as you glanced around, nothing triggered a memory. “I don’t want you to get left walking all around at night, could get dangerous,” he offered, slurring his speech.

It was the green canopy that finally jogged your memory, you picked up your pace as you recognized Spencer’s apartment complex. “I’m really fine,” you insisted, cursing your friends for the nth time for leaving you in the bar.

You faltered at the door, the blood draining from your face as you realized you’d need Spencer to buzz you in before you could finally lose the creep on your tail. “You’re supposed to push the button,” the guy—whose name you could not recall for the life of you—instructed you.

Smiling anxiously, you reached forward and pressed the button next to Spencer’s name, tapping your heeled boot on the sidewalk as you hoped he’d come let you in. For all you knew, he wasn’t even home.

“If your guy isn’t here, we could always head back to my place,” the drunk guy offered, looking around aimlessly, “it’s over… where are we?”

With wide eyes, you pushed the button two more times for prosperity’s sake, hoping that the world would take pity on you and get you away from him. “Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled, pushing the button again before resigning yourself to an evening with this guy. Turning around, you gave him your best attempt at a smile, “Look, I’m really sorry, but somewhere we got our wires—“

He nodded behind you, “Hey, is that your guy?”

You could’ve cried. Honestly, your eyes might’ve welled up at the sight of Spencer Reid, it looked like he had dragged himself out of bed to come get you. “Yeah,” you breathed, “That’s him.”

Spencer peered out the window, the frustrated look on his face softening when he saw you in the dim lamplight. He opened the door and stood, “Y/N, hey,” he greeted, brown eyes flickering from you to your unexpected guest.

“Hey, man,” the guy said from behind you, “I’m just droppin’ your girl home. I wanted to make sure she got home safe, there are a lot of weirdos out there.”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised in acute irritation, “Sure are,” he responded dryly. He took one look at your widened eyes and reached into his pajama pockets, holding his keys out for you to take, whispering his unit number to you as you swiped them.

“Thank you,” you breathed, squeezing through the doorway behind him and making your way up to apartment twenty-three. You unlocked the front door, faltering when you made your way inside.

You’d never seen Spencer’s apartment before, the entire space perfectly curated so that every nook and cranny was just so… Spencer. His bookshelves were crammed full of old texts, books that collectors would go to the mat for were piled up on the hardwood floor, waiting to be placed on a shelf.

The walls were painted a dark shade of green, and you wondered if Spencer had chosen the color himself or if the apartment had always been this color. You walked inside, placing your dead phone and Spencer’s keys on the coffee table before taking a seat on the supple leather. Tonight had been a nightmare, a story torn right out of the book about your college years.

You stood up as the doorknob turned, and Spencer walked inside, kicking his shoes off before locking the door behind him. “Spence, I am so sorry,” you insisted, walking around the couch and approaching him, “My phone died, and I didn’t know where else to go. I was going to take the metro, but then I remembered that you live near Van Ness, and I thought having somewhere to go would be better than potentially bringing that guy back to my place.”

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking you over quickly, checking the state you were in.

Nodding, you nervously ran a hand through your hair, “Yeah, that’s just… not how I wanted to spend my night.” Finally able to get a good look at him, you inspected his flannel pajama pants, a blue Madras pattern conflicting with the orange emblem of his CalTech shirt. You had never seen him so at ease, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

He shook his head dismissively, “You didn’t, I was still awake.”

You hummed, “Reading?”

Spencer faltered, “Oh, yeah,” his voice softened, looking over at the bookshelves as if he was missing something.

Part of you wanted to mention the odd behavior, but the two of you only ever interacted within the confines of the BAU. Maybe you don’t know him well enough to say that to him. “Do you have a phone charger that I can use? Once I get enough charge, I can just take the metro back to my place.”

Frowning, Spencer looked at you as if you had grown horns, “I’m not letting you take the metro, it’s the middle of the night.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you checked the time displayed on his microwave, if you plugged your phone in now, you’d be able to make it before the metro shut down for the night. “I only need to get on one line to get back to my place,” you informed him.

“That’s irrelevant, it’s past eleven and you’ve already been followed around by one creep tonight,” he reminded you, leaning against the column in his entryway and giving you a knowing look.

Your heart pounded in your chest, “Will you drive me home then?”

Running his hands through his hair, Spencer mumbled something unintelligible before he answered, “No, I shouldn’t drive right now. Just… I’ll go find you something to sleep in,” he told you, pushing off of the wall to go into what you assumed was his bedroom.

You sat back down on Spencer’s couch, skimming your palms over the knit blanket that had been thrown over the back of it while you waited for his return. Spencer Reid was something of an enigma to you, there were times when you thought he’d be your closest friend in the unit, and there were other times when he seemingly wanted nothing to do with you.

He came back out of his room, balancing a sweatshirt in his hands and presenting it to you, “Hey, this should fit.”

Checking the tag on the sweatshirt, you nodded in response as you inspected the rest of the crewneck. An old academy emblem was embroidered on the front of it, but the year didn’t match the timeline of when Spencer did his training at the Academy. You hummed, “Whose sweatshirt was this?” You tried to act nonchalant, thumbing the loose threads on the cuff.

“I’ll check my desk for a charger,” he swerved around your question, leaving you holding the sweatshirt in the middle of his living room.

You watched him walk away, “Uh, where should I change?”

He nodded his head in the direction of his room, “My room is fine. The bathroom is connected if you need it.”

Quickly, you slipped into his room and stripped off your dress, laying it on his bed while you pulled the crewneck over your head. At the very least, the fabric smelled like Spencer instead of smelling like another girl’s perfume. The navy blue sweater skimmed the top of your thighs, falling over you comfortably.

Rolling your dress into a ball in an attempt to hide your bra, you opened the door and jumped when you were met by Spencer. “Is that good?” He asked you, looking you up and down—not for the first time that night.

“What?” You asked, peering up at him with wide eyes. Obviously, you hadn’t expected him to be waiting for you outside of his bedroom. You would’ve mentally prepared yourself to be in your underwear in front of him—you’ve had dreams that started much like this.

He smiled softly at you, “The sweatshirt,” he whispered, “Does it fit alright?”

Mystery girl’s sweatshirt fit you just fine, and you nodded a confirmation up at him, looking at your iridescent reflection in his glasses.

“I live by a lot of nightlife, and that’s gotten out once or twice. So, there’s a small box of clothes that people have left behind here. For all I know that sweatshirt was Morgan’s,” he told you, holding a charger out for you to take.

Your face warmed with embarrassment, “You don’t owe me an explanation,” you murmured before taking the charger from his hand, letting your fingers linger a bit too long in his palm.

The soft smile that remained on his face was enough to make you weak at the knees, “I know, but you asked.”

Holding the charger to your chest, your head bobbed, “The sweatshirt’s great, Spence,” you told him meekly, stepping around him to plug the charger into the wall, and setting your phone next to his on the kitchen counter.

“Do you want to call your sister?” Spencer asked, loitering in the doorway between his room and the living room and sticking his hands in the pockets of his pajamas.

Shaking your head, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “No, she’s probably busy. Still uh… adjusting to her new job.” You looked over at him, each of you staying on one side of the room. You weren’t sure what JJ’s new job entailed. She had been acting cagier than usual on most of your phone calls.

He finally kicked off his shoes, prompting you to take a seat on the couch and unstrap your heels. “Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?”

Leaning back into the cushions, you tugged the hem of your sweatshirt down on your hips, “There’s really not much to tell.” You watched intently as he turned the corner, sitting next to you on the couch, so close that you felt the heat emanating off of his body. To your surprise, Spencer was one of those people who was built like a furnace—the lanky stature was misleading.

“Did you go out alone?” He asked, matching your level of relaxation and leaning back on the couch. Grabbing one of the pillows from the end of the couch, you set it in your lap and wrapped your hands around it.

Shaking your head, you frowned at your phone, which still hadn’t powered on, “No, I went out with a group of friends for a birthday.”

Concern pinched his brows, “Your friends left you in the bar with that guy? Why would they do that?”

You shrugged in response, skimming your fingertips over the stitching on his pillow, “They think I need to get laid.”

“Do you?” He asked, likely before he was able to process what he was saying, based on the shocked look on his face.

Smiling softly at him, you teased, “Jeez, Spence, buy me dinner first.”

Spencer’s cheeks turned pink as a result of your jest, shaking his head quickly, “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m sure you have plenty— er… I’m sure you’re very successful in that area of your life.”

A soft giggle escaped your lips, the light feeling of laughter a stark difference from how you felt twenty minutes ago, “I’m just messing. I know what you meant.” At least, you thought you knew what he meant. You kept watching him, his body turned away from the lamp, neck slightly craned forward. “So,” you began, “If you weren’t sleeping, and you weren’t reading, what were you doing before I buzzed?”

His expression went tight, and you worried you had somehow stepped over an invisible line, “Can you keep a secret?”

Your heart jumped at the prospect of becoming Spencer’s confidante. You’ve spent your first few months in the BAU hoping someone would invite you in, but they all seemed too preoccupied with losing your sister to the State Department to even acknowledge the fact that you were floundering. Trying not to seem too eager, you nodded at him, “You can tell me anything.”

His eyebrows knit themselves together, “I’ve been getting these… headaches lately. Migraines really.”

Your expression softened, mouth going slack in surprise, “Have you been to a doctor?”

He nodded in response and leaned his head to the side, so close to you that you could feel his hair touching your shoulder, “They can’t find a physical cause.”

Your stomach flipped, eyes widening ever so slightly as you found yourself glad he wasn’t looking at you. If there wasn’t a physical cause for Spencer’s migraines, then you knew exactly what he was worried about, “I’m sorry, Spence.”

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment, not saying anything else for a moment. There was just the two of you on his couch, and you wondered if there was any way you could make this a normal occurrence. You’d give away every night out for the promise of nights like this.

Bits of the puzzle started to fall into place. The way he had acted on the case in Miami, all of the time off he had taken, and even his newfound aversion to coffee—he was drinking less caffeine. He hasn’t been sleeping, the bags under his eyes told you that much.

“I’m gonna make tea,” you announced, resting your hands on the tops of your thighs and pushing up. “What kind of tea does Spencer Reid drink on a Saturday night?”

With his head buried on a couch cushion, you hear an almost pained response, “Lavender.”

Your back was to him as you smiled, “I like a guy who drinks lavender tea,” you said, your voice too soft to carry into the living room. Turning on his electric kettle, you started going through his drawers, hoping to find a stash of tea bags somewhere.

“This really isn’t necessary,” Spencer called over from the couch. “I just… needed to share.”

You hummed as you found the tea, grabbing a lavender tea bag before lifting up a box of chamomile, checking the production date before tossing a bag on the counter. Your next challenge would be mugs. “You took me in like a stray cat in the middle of the night, making you tea while you have a migraine is the absolute least I can do.”

He didn’t respond, but you felt his eyes on you as you worked in the kitchen. Dropping the tea bags in the mugs—an air and space museum one for him and a Snoopy one for you—you picked up the kettle before it let off its high-pitched beep, pouring the hot water into the mugs.

Carefully carrying the mugs back to him on the couch, you set them on the coffee table and returned to your spot next to him, “Here we are,” you said, flattening out a napkin for the two of you to place your tea bags on.

“Thank you,” he responded timidly, reaching out for the mug. “Since I shared about myself, I think it’s only fair that you share something with me,” he told you, a ridiculously serious look on his face.

You raised your eyebrows, using your tea bag to stir the tea in your mug, “Oh, a quid pro quo?” A soft smile grew on your face when he nodded, “What do you want to know?”

He thought about it for a while, taking a sip of his tea while he considered his options. “Why does JJ call you Ducky?”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes in response, “Oh, Spence, if you wanted the answer to that question, you should’ve asked while I was drunk.”

“You were never drunk,” he responded easily. “Y/N—” he faltered, frowning before he had the chance to continue.

You incline your head toward him, “What is it? Is it your head?”

He shook his head carefully, “Would you mind if we watched something? On the TV?”

“It’s your apartment, you can do whatever you want,” you told him, your volume hovering just over a whisper.

Spencer reached forward and took the remote off of the coffee table, hitting the power button and bringing the television to life. To your surprise, the pictures that showed up were cartoons. Old reruns from when he would’ve been a kid, he must’ve noticed your surprise, because he whispered, “It gets too hard to focus on anything else.”

He must’ve changed the settings on the TV, bringing down the brightness in a way that was comfortable to his eyes. You thought of all the times Spencer had been in a bright or loud space for work in the past few months, and the sympathy made your chest ache. “Thanks for saving me,” you murmured, watching to catch him before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

Extending his mug to you, you gently clinked your mug to his before giving your undivided attention to Inspector Gadget.

As the night went on, you remained in your place on the couch, because when Spencer fell asleep on your shoulder, you didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #written by margot #jareau!reader #margotober #flufftober

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soluversworld · 20 days ago

Text

Sweetness Overload? - REDACTED X G.N Reader (SMUT?)

Genre: smut

Summary: —REQUEST COPIED angel and redacted agreed on a challenge that they will be eating a chocolate with aphrodisiac in it and have to hold in their pent up desires for as long as they can. whoever lasts longer wins and whoever loses their shit and tries to relieve themselves loses

( Reader is a g.n!)

EXTRA: This was a request, from discord, They're a good friend!!

This is the first out of 1/50, again request you can request!

Content/Trigger warnings

Explicit Sexual Content (NSFW)

Dom/Sub Dynamics (Teasing, control, and edging)

Praise Kink

Strong Emotional Intimacy

Light Roughness (Biting, marking, possessive touch)

Overstimulation

APHRODISIAC. CHOCOLATE

Did not proof read/Rushed.

The chocolate sat on your tongue like a dare.

It melted slow—rich, dark, spiked with something that coiled heat low in your stomach. You didn't even blink as you swallowed it, leaning back with a hum like you’d just tasted something divine. Across from you, REDACTED mirrored you with that practiced calm, expression unreadable… but that twitch in his jaw? That wasn’t nothing.

He licked the corner of his mouth, lazy. “Sweet, huh?” “Like sin,” you said. And he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Too dangerous. Too hot. Too interested.

His sledgehammer was in the corner, still flecked with red from a few nights ago. You’d teased him for not cleaning it. He said he liked the color. Now, his attention was all on you.

You crossed your legs just to mess with him. His gaze flicked down. Not subtle.

“You good?” you asked, feigning innocence. “You're awfully quiet.” He tilted his head, eyes half-lidded. “M’fine. Are you?”

“Peachy.”

“Mmh.” He leaned forward. Just a little. “Y’sure that chocolate didn’t hit you too hard, Angel?”

You didn't answer just looked away, Now it was already 20 minutes

It looked like a curse wrapped in silver foil. Deep, glossy brown—infused with something unspoken and forbidden. A custom aphrodisiac designed to test every ounce of restraint. You and REDACTED had agreed to the challenge half-jokingly, sometime after midnight, legs tangled from a movie neither of you finished watching. One piece each. No touching. No relieving. Whoever broke first, lost.

You’d thought it might even the playing field.

Redacted leaned back against the headboard, long legs stretched, hands on his thighs like this was a Sunday nap instead of the literal edge of hell. There was that usual lazy calm in the way he moved, like he had nothing to prove. But you knew better. You knew him. That softness in his grin? That wasn’t detachment. That was devotion.

You, on the other hand, felt like your skin didn’t fit. The chocolate hit like a whisper at first—sweet, heady, rich—but then it wound its way through your nerves like silk on a razor. Your clothes were too close. The air was too warm. Every heartbeat throbbed somewhere low and aching.

You shifted, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You alright over there, angel?” he asked, voice thick and sweet, like he wasn’t the real problem.

Your glare didn’t even have the heat to land. "fine.” He hummed. Not smug. Just fond. “You don’t look fine. Y’look like a match waitin’ to be struck.”

The worst part? He was completely unaffected. Not cold. Just... steady. The chocolate might as well’ve been a breath mint to him. He wasn’t sweating. He wasn’t squirming. You were halfway to melting, and he was watching you like a man in love at a funeral—silent, reverent, and a little bit ruined.

“You sure you wanna keep goin’?” he murmured, head tilting slightly. “I won’t tease if it’s too much. Jus’ say the word.” It was soft. Gentle. Genuine. And it made it so much worse.

Because he meant it. Because he always meant it.

Because he was always like this. Down bad. Horny. Obsessed. He didn’t need some fancy chocolate. You could sneeze in his direction and he’d be halfway to planning your wedding. This wasn’t a challenge to him—it was foreplay for a game he’d already lost the moment he laid eyes on you.

“I’m good,” you mumbled, even though your whole body felt like live wire.

He nodded like he believed you. “Brave thing.”

You groaned into your hands. “How are you so calm?”

He blinked, confused like you’d asked why the sky was blue. Then that soft grin pulled at his lips, lazy and loving. “Angel. M’hard all the time.” Your breath caught. “Anything you do—anything—you could eat soup and I’d be fightin’ for my life. This? Chocolate? Please. You’re just givin’ me permission to watch you come apart. Ain’t no punishment in that.”

Your jaw dropped. “So you’re—what? Not struggling at all?”

“Oh, I’m strugglin’,” he drawled, adjusting where he sat. “Just not from the chocolate.” He looked you over—slowly, deliberately. “M’strugglin’ because you’re sittin’ there all flushed and breathin’ hard and makin’ them soft little noises, and I gotta pretend I ain’t already in love with every twitch of your pretty mouth.”

You stared at him, heat licking up your spine.

He leaned in slightly—not close enough to touch, but just enough that you could feel it. The tension. The devotion. The ache.

“I don’t need help wantin’ you, angel,” he murmured, voice dipping low. “I wake up wantin’ you. I go to sleep wantin’ you. I breathe wantin’ you. Chocolate ain’t got shit on that.”

You made a strangled sound.

Redacted grinned.

“Still wanna win?” You glared. “I was winning.” “Oh? You sure? ‘Cause you’re lookin’ awful twitchy over there…” “You’re cheating. You’re always like this.” “Mmh,” he said, all smug affection. “Then maybe you should stop givin’ me reasons to be.”

You were panting now. Shallow. Soft. Embarrassingly loud in the quiet of the room. And him? That bastard looked normal. Effortless. Like he hadn’t just dragged you into the devil’s personal endurance trial.

It wasn’t fair.

He could control their desires—hold them tight in that iron vice grip of his while you sat here melting like wax under a steady flame. He could talk like that, touch like that, and look like that, all without breaking a sweat.

And now?

Now you were in his lap.

Somehow—when did that happen?—he’d pulled you in close, casual as breathing. You were facing forward, back against his chest, and his arms were draped around your waist like you were just settling in for a nap, not squirming in a hell of your own making. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, breath warm against your neck.

And the way he spoke?

It wasn’t just teasing anymore.

“Feelin' a little warm, angel?” he murmured, voice low and syrup-slick. “Can feel you breathin’ through your skin.”

You shivered. “You’re the one who pulled me over here.”

“Mm,” he hummed, nuzzling lazily against the crook of your neck. “You were twitchin’ so much. Thought I’d help you settle. Thought bein’ close might calm you down.”

He knew what he was doing. He knew. Every word came out like honey laced with sin, soft and indulgent and wicked in a way that made your stomach curl.

“You know,” he continued, tone thoughtful, hand splayed against your thigh with no movement, “I think I like you like this. All flushed and restless. Tryin’ so hard not to grind down on me.”

Your breath hitched so violently it turned into a whimper.

He smiled against your skin.

“Shh, angel,” he cooed, and that hand—fuck—that hand gripped. Just for a second. Just one, solid squeeze.

You almost squealed.

He chuckled low in his chest, and you felt it rumble against your back. “Sorry, that too much?” he whispered, not sorry at all.

Your face was burning.

“Don’t worry, I’m good,” he said, brushing a kiss behind your ear like it was nothing. “Ain’t even hard, really. Jus’ enjoyin’ myself.”

You gasped, scandalized, twisting halfway in his lap to glare at him—but your body betrayed you, again. The twist pressed your thighs right over his, and now you were grinding down before your brain could stop it.

He sucked in a breath, sharp. His hands flexed.

“Ahah—fuck this,” you breathed, and before you could think twice, you kissed him.

Hard.

Immediate.

Hungry.

You felt him freeze for a split second under you, lips parting in soft shock—and then that slow, smug grin pulled across his mouth like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. He chuckled, low and amused, and it made your heart punch against your ribs.

“Well,” he whispered against your lips, voice rough and way too pleased, “guess that means I win.”

You almost wanted to cry.

But then—his hands cupped your face so gently, and he kissed you again. Not greedy. Not filthy. Sweet. So sweet it tasted wrong against the haze buzzing in your skull.

What the hell? Why was this—why was this sweet?

Your brain was acting like it had been put through a blender full of sugar and sin and you couldn’t stop. You clutched at his hoodie, mouth dragging back to meet his again and again, needy now—messy, frantic, chasing the softness like it’d vanish if you let go.

And he let you.

He matched you.

Groaned softly when your lips moved fast and wet and desperate, and when your tongue slid out to taste him again—oh god, his hands gripped your hips tight, fingers digging in like he needed to ground himself.

But this wasn’t him losing it.

No.

That was you.

Because the chocolate—oh, fuck, the chocolate—this wasn’t just heat anymore. It was need. It was sensation overload. It was everything good and unbearable twisted into one drugged haze that made his every sigh feel like a goddamn prayer.

And then—

“Whoever breaks first, loses,” you whispered against his lips.

He paused.

Then, with zero hesitation, he pushed you back onto the bed.

Soft, slow. Like laying down treasure.

And he followed, crawling over you with that same lazy ease he always carried—but now it was laced with hunger.

"You kissed me first,” he murmured, eyes blown wide and dark with want. “That’s losin’.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to sass, to anything—but then his hand slid up under your shirt and landed against your skin, warm and reverent, and your whole body arched.

"Ah—Redacted—!"

He leaned down, whispering against your ear, “Don’t worry, angel... I’ll help you feel better.”

And when his hand moved again, slow and precise—

“A—AHHH—!”

Challenge? What challenge?

You were done for.

And judging by the groan he let out when you moaned his name, shaky and broken—

So was he.

Your back arched, fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt like you could anchor yourself to his body—like he was the only solid thing in the world, and everything else had melted away under the heat flooding your veins.

“Redacted,” you whimpered again, and damn if he didn’t flinch like it physically hit him.

His breath hitched against your neck, his lips brushing there—soft, barely a touch, like he was trying not to go too fast. Trying not to devour you.

"You don't get it, do you?" he whispered, his voice all frayed silk and smoke, dragging down your spine like a kiss. “Ain’t the chocolate makin’ me like this, angel. You walk into a room and I’m already gone. You breathe too pretty and I’m ready to fall apart.”

Your whole body trembled under him. It wasn’t just arousal—it was too much in the best possible way. Every word, every look, every brush of his hand was lightning on your skin.

“Y-you’re already—” you gasped, eyes wide when you felt the pressure of him through his jeans. Holy hell. “You—you’re already hard?!”

He groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, voice muffled but wrecked. “Been like that since you made that first little noise. The one you tried to hide. Thought I was gonna lose my goddamn mind.”

He kissed your collarbone, then lower—then lower still. Soft, reverent, starving.

You couldn’t take it.

“Touch me,” you gasped, voice nearly breaking.

Redacted looked up, eyes blown wide, pupils practically swallowing his irises whole. There was worship in that gaze. Like you were something unholy and beautiful all at once. Like he was scared to break you and desperate to try anyway.

“Say it again,” he murmured, dragging his knuckles up the side of your thigh. “Just like that. C’mon, angel, lemme hear you beg for it.”

You swallowed hard. “Please. Please touch me.”

That did it.

His mouth crashed into yours again, fierce and sweet all at once, and his hands were everywhere now—up your sides, over your hips, dragging up under your shirt like he could memorize every inch of you with his palms.

"You're shakin'," he murmured, kissing your jaw, your throat. “Can’t tell if it's the chocolate or just me.”

“It’s you,” you gasped, and his growl vibrated against your skin.

"Yeah? You’re all worked up just 'cause I'm here, huh?" he teased, but there was no cruelty in it—only adoration, thick and hungry.

"Y-you talk so much," you managed, voice trembling.

His grin burned against your skin.

"You love it," he said, just as his hand slid down, finally, finally between your legs—hovering, not yet touching. Teasing. Waiting.

"Angel," he whispered, like a sin and a promise all in one, "I want you to come undone on me. I wanna watch every second of it. I’ll be so good to you, angel, just say the word.”

And when you gasped his name again, all desperate and wrecked and soaked in wanting—

He moved.

And you saw stars.

His fingers slipped past the barrier of your clothes like he’d done it a hundred times in dreams he’d never dared confess to—slow, tender, practiced, knowing. Like he was reading your body like a sacred text. Like he knew exactly what page to kiss.

Your hips jolted at the first touch—warm, soft, deep—and you choked on your breath, whimpering into his throat. It wasn’t just that he was touching you—it was how. Gentle, reverent, maddeningly slow.

“Shhh,” he cooed against your ear, voice thick with affection and something darker. “You’re bein’ so good, baby. So damn pretty for me.”

And then—fuck—his mouth was on your ear. Hot breath ghosting over the shell, and then his tongue. He licked the curve of it, slow and deliberate, and your whole body bucked beneath him like you couldn’t stand the contact.

You whined, openly now, your voice cracking from the sheer pleasure slicing up your spine.

“Sensitive here, huh?” he murmured, then sucked on your earlobe just to make you cry out again. “I’ll remember that.”

His fingers moved in perfect rhythm—each stroke deeper, smoother, more devastating than the last. He never once looked away from you. Eyes hooded, half-lidded, drunk on your reactions. Like every shudder and gasp you gave him was the only thing that mattered.

“You gonna fall apart for me?” he whispered, mouth brushing yours again. “C’mon, angel. Wanna feel you break. Wanna see what you sound like when I make you lose your fuckin' mind.”

You were already close. Too close. Everything felt hot and full and unreal. Like the chocolate, the challenge, the restraint—it had all been a trap, and you’d walked right into it, needy and aching and so ready to lose.

His voice dropped lower, a tease and a vow all in one.

“Let me have you. Let me ruin you soft.”

And stars weren’t enough anymore. You were seeing constellations.

.......................

Pretty sure, You and Him stayed up so late doing yoga poses while clapping

SIKE, OKAY YOU SIMPS I'M CALLING YALL OUT STOP SIMPING.

SAY HOLY AND STAY HOLY.

MISTY OUT!

SEA IF YOU SEE THIS LAUGHS

#14 days with you #14dwy #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #14dwy x reader #ren 14 days with you #ren 14dwy #14dwy ren x reader #14dwy redacted x reader #14dwy vn #14dwy smut #14dwy ren smut #14dwy redacted smut #14 days with you ren #14dayswithyou #14 days with you redacted x reader

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venusbyline · 3 months ago

Text

Jacaerys Velaryon — Nine Moons.

chapter four (previous chapter)

— summary: After Lucerys' death and the arrival of the dragonseeds, Jacaerys no longer wants to be betrothed with Baela. He wants to marry his twin sister, even if it means going against Rhaenyra's decisions and sealing suffering in your life and his.

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x twin sister!reader

— type: dark, angst, sequel to Sleep (but can also be read as a standalone series)

— word count: 2.6k

— chapter's warnings: female!reader, dark!Jacaerys, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Targcest (twin brother/twin sister), forced pregnancy, past rape/non-con, dubcon somnophilia mentioned, abusive and toxic relationship, manipulation, possessive behaviour, obsessive behaviour, gaslighting, blood and injuries, argument, crying, curse words, implied underage sex, referenced Jacaerys Velaryon/Baela Targaryen, forced marriage mentioned, dark content, canon divergence. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— author's notes¹: Nine Moons is a shortfic, sequel to the one shot Sleep, written for Kinktober. Both Nine Moons and Sleep can be read as standalone.

— author's notes²: Each chapter will have its own trigger warnings.

— author's notes³: It took a while longer than usual! I'm having a hard writer's block because of some personal things, and now I'm full of WIPs 🤣🤣 Anyway, please tell me your opinions and theories. Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

— tagging list: @neobangverse @hufflepuffxsworld @cwallace02sblog (Anyone who also wants to be tagged in the next chapters, tell me! ❤️❤️)

— crossposting: AO3

❥ Nine Moons masterlist • Jacaerys masterlist • HOTD masterlist

❥ about me • main masterlist

You had been inside the Small Council room during all that time, your hands shaking due to the tension and tears streaming down your face while you waited for the hours to pass, your gaze focused on the windows as if you expected to see some dragon flying over the surroundings at any moment.

The servants had already come to try to calm you down and bring you something to eat, their efforts failing brutally every time your crying fit got worse or when you pushed the dishes away, not caring about the noise of the wares hitting the floor or the women's frightened expressions.

When you threw down the fourth glass of water in the last four hours, Baela burst through the doors. "You need to loose that temper."

"Shut up..." You whined, turning to the opposite side and facing the windows again, wanting to get rid of any lecture your cousin and sister-in-law could give you.

"You are acting like a crazy little girl." She growled, approaching you without worrying about your form huddled in the chair. Her gaze dropped to the broken kitchen utensils on the floor, looking at the servants in the corners before staring back at you. "And you are scaring the maids."

"I do not care." It was a lie, you did not usually treat any servants that badly and you knew you would regret it later.

Baela sighed with frustration, sitting down in the chair next to you. The fingers of her right hand tapped the marble table as she rested her chin on the other palm. Even though you were not talking, there was heavy air between the two of you, your sobs irritating her and her calm behavior making you more frustrated.

You would have preferred that it had been your own mother who had come to try to lecture you, but she was too busy panicking in her chambers after the Maester checked that everything was physically fine with your little brother Aegon III. The boy had arrived in Dragonstone very terrified, having flown on his little dragon for the first time, his clothes damp with his own piss due to his panic.

"We still do not have any news about any of them, including Jace."

More tears appeared in your eyes after Baela's words. You wanted to scream, to knock down everything you saw in front of you. Jacaerys should not have gone looking for Prince Viserys II. Everyone was almost certain that your youngest brother might already be dead, but Jace was stubborn and gone to the battle anyway, instead of letting that mission only for the Rhaenyra's soldiers.

"He cannot die, Baela." You whispered, hands shaking and stroking your own round belly to ease the painful twinges that were bothering you during the past minutes. "I cannot lose another brother."

Baela remained silent for a while, taking deep breaths to control what she would say next, not wanting to get into trouble with anyone during such a catastrophic situation. Her head ached slightly, thinking about the order Jacaerys made before leaving with Corlys. "Jace asked me to give you that."

You frowned when Baela handed you a necklace with two pure gold pendants, one of them was a waning crescent moon and the other was a sun, this last one decorated with a small red diamond in its center. It was very delicate and matched perfectly with the velvet dark red dress you had been wearing since Jacaerys left.

"I presume these symbols have a special meaning to both of you." Baela's tense tone returned your attention to her, nodding silently and wiping away the falling tears with your free hand. "He asked me to give it to you over if he did not come back."

"Then you should not have shown me it yet." Your voice sounded rude and you continued to hold the gift with a firm grip. "He will come back. Everyone will come back, including Viserys."

Baela sighed, massaging her temples. The atmosphere became even more tense, you keeping admiring the necklace and the other princess keeping sitting next to you, thinking about something to say that would not worsen the terrible relation between the two of you since Jacaerys got you pregnant.

She understood very well about the orders Jace gave to her when he was leaving the castle, her wrists were still bruised from the way he held them and threatened her life. Even though she wanted to just ignore her sister-in-law and hole up in her own chambers to deal with envy and worry that consumed her feelings, Baela knew she should not go against what her betrothed had told her to do.

She needed to help you stay sane and ignore the hatred she felt about you carrying Jacaerys' bastard children. She needed to obey him not just because he told her to. Baela needed to help you because if something happened to Jacaerys' life, you were the next heir to succeed your mother to the Iron Throne.

It was already night when Baela managed to convince you to go to bed. Your eyes were reddish from crying and your belly continued to pain, as if the babies were sharing your fears and moving inside your womb more roughly than usual.

The necklace that was once held by you was now decorating your neck, fingers caressing the pendants and a few sniffles echoing in the private room.

You did not pay much attention to what Baela mumbled when she was helping you change the clothes. All you knew was that her gaze lingered a little longer on your big swollen stomach, frowning with the same doubt that Jace had been thinking just minutes before the argument and sexual moments in your chambers during that morning.

The princess' confused face turned pretty obvious that Rhaenyra was not sharing the secret details of your pregnancy with her too.

"Jace believes… He believes the babies are twins."

The white-haired girl widened her eyes, clearing her throat and looking away, concentrating on placing the white linen chemise on you, the larger size fitting perfectly on your current form. "Twin pregnancy, such a surprise." Baela feigned enthusiasm, tying your clothes carefully, noticing how your fingers kept caressing the sun and moon symbols decorated on your throat. "He really corrupted you, did not he?"

The rhetorical question raced your heart, your head aching as did your stomach. A part of you was grateful that she was behind you, taking charge of dressing you. You would not know what to say if you were face to face.

When you did not respond anything, Baela continued. "I mean... He raped you. Forced you to get pregnant by him. He is still betrothed to me... And yet you are more worried about his life than the safe of your little brother who was probably kidnapped or even killed when the Pentoshi cog carrying him and Aegon III was captured."

"Viserys is not dead." Your argument did not seem convincing even to your own ears. "And Jace is only engaged to you because our mother is making him to, and also—"

"He corrupted you." The repeated words were stark and raw, your eyes filling with tears as you walked away from the hands helping you dress, a mix of anger and sadness filling your brain. "Do not you realize how Jace is manipulating you? Making you think you need him, making you want him." Baela growled, rubbing the palm over her face, the last of her patience now disappearing. "He forced you into this situation, took advantage of you when you were sleepy and vulnerable. And now you are crying because you are afraid he is going to die!"

"Jace is my twin... How do you expect me to turn against him? To not forgive him? To not fear about his life?”

"Yeah, I know he is your twin. But he is also the one who forced you to carry these things." She pointed to your belly, which was already about six moons.

A bitter and vulnerable chuckle escaped your throat, crossing arms and turning to face Baela. The girl's full lips were pressed into a thin line, both of you controlling the anger they felt at going through all that.

If only Jacaerys had not gotten you pregnant, or if only Baela had given up on keeping the betrothal...

"You are jealous..." The spiteful and sudden demeanor was not well received by your cousin, who rolled the eyes and scoffed, waiting for the next hypocrisies said. "You are jealous because Jace loves me, because he will love my children and—"

"Did you see that?" Baela pointed at you without even letting your rant end, heartbeat quickening in anticipation of the bitter words. "He already got into your mind enough. Now you think I am the villain and not him. That is what he wanted. He wanted you to resent me for envying you, to forgive him for raping you."

"STOP SAYING THAT!" You yelled with salty tears streaming down your cheeks, flushed and warm from panic, sitting up in the bed and sobbing like a child. "Stop! Just stop saying that word... Please."

Baela hummed another scoff and was about to open her mouth to retort your request, being brutally interrupted by the sound of some guard knocking on the door to your chambers with frightening force. The two princesses were silent until the man's voice came out. "Your Graces, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon has returned."

The cuticles of your nails were ripped off by your own teeth every second that passed without further news. You refused the Maester's order to remain resting in bed, being banned to enter the room until the Maester and the other servants took care of whatever happened to Jacaerys during the battle.

Your hands were trembling, nervous for the moment when someone would open the doors and allow your visit.

Most of the things said there were not understandable behind the big doors. All you could hear were the movements of the servants, your twin brother's screams of pain and some comforting words that Rhaenyra gave him.

No one had let you see his injuries. In fact, no one had explained almost anything to you about what had happened. All you knew was that Jacaerys had been very attacked by the enemies and your youngest brother Viserys had not returned along with Rhaenyra's allies.

"You should be sleeping, it is late." Daemon's lecture increased the discomfort inside your stomach and you crossed arms to hug your own shoulders, wanting to continue focusing on the confusing sounds behind the doors instead of what your uncle and stepfather had to say. "The Maester has already said that your presence inside is prohibited."

You remained still where you were, however, this time you allowed yourself to growl in disbelief. "How can I go to sleep when I do not know what my brother's condition is like?"

Daemon crossed his arms almost as if he was imitating you, his big and strong body leaning against the doorframe. "Your twin was hooked like a fish in the shoulders. He was arrowed several times in the right part of his body. His dragon is also injured and I doubt the creature will survive for more than a month after all of this."

"Do not... Do not talk that way. Vermax will be fine." Daemon did not retort against your overdone optimism at first, limiting himself to just sighing.

The more Jacaerys' screams echoed during the procedure, the more desperate you became, moving from side to side, leaving the pain in your womb aside so you could focus on the well-being of the child's father. You could hear Jace's screams of pain and pleas for the Maester to let you in there, all requests being ignored by everybody there.

Your fingertips tightened around the necklace he had given you, and Daemon broke the silence once again. "It is inappropriate for a pregnant woman to witness a somewhat bloody scene like that. You know..." Your uncle told you the obvious and you clenched the jaw, not wanting to keep hearing anything about it.

Obviously you knew too well the reasons why you were not there to help your twin brother's suffering. And that did not make that any easier. At that moment, you did not worry about the baby — or babies — you were carrying, your attention was on ensuring that Jacaerys would stay alive until the end of the night.

He had promised he would not let you die in childbirth. So he could not die now either, right? He said during the morning that you were born together and would die together... And that was a promise the Gods could not ignore.

"Your mother would hate to hear this, but I am glad Jacaerys is suffering at least a little." Daemon mumbled nonchalantly and you almost threw up in front of him, now staring at him with your face paler than before. How could he say something so cruel? "Oh, are you really surprised that I think that? Or that I am owning up to my cruelty?"

Your throat burned with bile that threatened to come out, not answering until you were sure you would not vomit the food you had managed to ingest. "B-Both."

The whisper was weak, tremble... Almost humiliating. And Daemon found it funny. "Both..." He repeated with a mocking tone, thin lips pulling into a smirk. "What did you expect, dear niece? Your twin brother has been making my daughter's life a hell since his obsession with you became more unhealthy than it already was."

You shook head, letting go of the jewelry to take three steps back when Daemon dared to take three steps towards you. "You are wrong. These are the effects of the war. Jace was not like this before Lucerys' death."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps this obsession was already the start of a fire from the moment your lives were conceived together, and your younger brother's murder was just what Jacaerys needed to allow himself to show the true insane dragon that always existed inside him. Perhaps inside you too." He continued with those long intimidating steps, no more space for your legs to move back. "Jacaerys' soul was probably already sick since the moment you left him alone and waiting inside your mother's womb for a little while during the childbed and—"

"What?"

Your question uttered in a loud voice echoed off the large walls. Daemon, who was already close enough with his shadows almost covering yours, suddenly stopped. The man narrowed the eyes, staring at you with a look that could either indicate genuine perplexity about your reaction, or could indicate that he was just trying to escape the spark of curiosity and rage that he lit in your heart.

Daemon did not move himself, not even when the doors of the chambers where Jacaerys was being treated opened, revealing Rhaenyra and Baela's with with bloodstained clothes and tense facial expressions, now worsening even more after realizing something was happening between you and the older Targaryen.

Rhaenyra called your name loudly, but you ignored her, keeping looking at Daemon. "What is wrong, Daemon?" Your mother asked and walked towards the two of you to pull her daughter away, being stopped by her husband's hand.

"He said Jace was waiting for me inside your womb during the childbirth." Rhaenyra swallowed hard as she listened to your voice sounding as shaky as it did when you were just a little girl getting lectured for some poorly executed innocent prank. "Why the hells would Daemon say that, if you always told to all of us that Jacaerys is your firstborn and he was born before me?"

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ilsanslut · 1 year ago

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꒷♡꒷ GAME OVER!

♰ synopsis: in which you seek attention from your boyfriend and end up paying the price. content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. gn!reader. full-nelson. rough sex. tummy bulging. creampie. angry(?)!nagi. minor degradation. cursing. ꒷꒦

“Stop it, Y/N.”

Seishiro warned you without looking up from his phone screen for a moment, his fingers still dancing across the glass with expert skill. You were lying beside him on the couch, your bare foot on his bicep, gently nudging him to throw him off his game. You couldn’t help yourself. You wanted his attention, but instead, he chose to play some dumb mobile game. So, you decided to take it upon yourself to get his attention—by lightly kicking him until he paid attention to you.

“Y/N.” His typically soft tone grew a bit of a firm edge, with the slightest hint of frustration making itself known to you.

You giggled to yourself, partially in amusement and partially in incredulity, as you were surprised to hear the slightest infliction of irritation in your typically lax and impassive boyfriend, who, in his own words, “doesn’t get angry because it’s bothersome feeling negative”. Was that about to change? Were you finally about to make Seishiro angry?

There was only one way to find out, right?

You gave him a few moments of reprieve, allowing him to get sucked back into his game and forget about your little mischievous self, despite your antsy toes wiggling against his deltoid giving you away. It appeared to be working because Seishiro's eyes were wide and unblinking as they became laser-focused on his screen, even drawing the device closer to his face just as his tapping became near manic when you suddenly jolted your foot forth and even managed to push Seishiro aside for a second.

“Y/N!—”

GAME OVER, YOU LOSE!

You were so shocked that you could not even contain your laughter. You cackled maniacally as you were holding your stomach at the fact that Seishiro lost, moreover became frustrated with you.

“Haha, I can’t believe it! See, Sei? This is what happens when you chose to ignore me~.”

Though you quickly stopped laughing when your boyfriend's piercing gray eyes locked with yours, his stare was owlish and unwavering, boring fiercely into your own. What made matters worse was that he did not even look angry, but you could feel it radiating off of him in harsh waves that nearly suffocated you and immobilized you where you lay. Your breath caught in your throat as dread suddenly chilled your veins, your mouth gaping as you tried to think of something else to say in your defense, but it was futile.

“So that’s what that was, huh?” His tone was chilling, effectively silencing any rebuttal you could’ve thought to muster up. His head cocked to one side, fluffy bangs shadowing his unblinking eyes as they continued to pierce into your own.

“You just wanted . . . my attention?”

“M’sorry, m’sorry, Sei~! P-please, I can’t! I won’t do it again, I pr-promise—!”

Seishiro had ripped through your underwear, thrown you on top of him, and folded you in a full-nelson to fuck you silly before you could blink. You were choking on your own words as your boyfriend’s cock pistoned in and out of you at a furious pace, leaving you breathless with every unrelenting thrust, each one more vigorous than the last. You could feel him hitting the deepest parts within you, battering your inner walls, and pumping every last bit of his frustration with you into your tight hole.

“But isn’t this what you wanted, Y/N?” He muttered into your ear from behind you. The crazy bastard didn’t even sound breathless as he fucked you within an inch of your life. “You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Wanted to make me angry? Make me lose my game, hm? You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, both in ecstasy and vexation, your jaw lulling open as you babbled incoherent curses through your drooling brims. The pleasure was so great, you felt so full, you could hardly think, let alone form a proper sentence! Not to mention, in this nigh-pornographic position, you were gifted the sight of not only your striker boyfriend pounding you senseless but also the prominent indent that appeared on your belly from every time his stupidly big cock reached the deepest depths within you.

Not caring for a response from you, Seishiro let out a series of soft, muffled grunts from his lips as his cock throbbed within you. “Since this is what you wanted, you should be able to take it, no?”

“B-But Sei! Your too—mpfh! Y-You’re too damn b—”

“—What? Big? You cry about that all the time, Y/N, and yet you take my cock like the pretty slut you are every time without fail.” You could practically hear the eyeroll in his voice as he spoke, pausing his thrusts for merely a second as he adjusted his grip on you, attempting to pry you open further as though you weren’t already splayed out above him. Interlocking his fingers behind your head and pushing himself firmly onto his heels, he basically growled into your ear, “So do me a favor and shut up and take it.”

Without warning, he used his newfound leverage to pound into you with enough force to make your vision go white and your toes curl in the air as he pummeled directly into your sweet spot, eliciting a series of pleasured shrieks and breathless mewls from your drooling lips. You’d be sure to apologize to your neighbors later.

“Ah, there it is. Y’gonna cum f’me?*” He grunted, his breath hot against your ear, as his cock twitched inside of you.

“Oh my god, y-yes! Sei, yes, yes, yes!” You squealed as the knot in your belly tightened.

“Hmmfh, then go on, pretty. Make a mess f’me.”

Before you knew it, you did exactly that, coming undone as you made a mess atop your sweaty and partially clothed bodies. Simultaneously, Seishiro let go inside of you, both of you breathlessly moaning in unison. Your back arched off of his chest as you felt thick, hot ropes of steamy, milky cum shoot into your depths and bloat you full of his seed. It was heavy, too, a result of Nagi not jacking off often, as he found the action to be ‘too much of a hassle when I have you’.

His grip slowly released on you, gently setting your tired and quivering legs down to rest as he lay beneath you, equally exhausted. Even as he did so, his cum still languidly pumped ropes of cum into your abused hole as it slid out of you, making a mess of the poor cushions beneath you two. You would never be able to hold it all, but as you both descended from your highs, neither of you seemed to mind.

Before you could relish in your serenity, you felt a sharp swat on your thigh from your boyfriend beneath you, who now held a small pout on his lips. “Next time you want my attention, just ask. I was about to beat my high score.”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes playfully as you gazed lazily up at the ceiling. Oh right, that’s what started this mess, huh?

“Mmm, I dunno, Sei.” You drawled, your voice laced with mischief. “If you’re going to fuck me like that every time I bother you while you play, I might have to do it more often~.”

Seishiro said nothing in response. He didn’t even stir beneath you. That is, until your body was turned over and you found yourself face-down on the cushions, trapped beneath your boyfriend's weight, his thick forearm encircling your throat from behind.

“S-Seishiro—!” There was a squeal in your voice as you felt his arm tighten around your throat, pressing you hard against the cushions with his massive bulk and body weight.

“S’that how you feel, Y/N?” His voice was deep, with the faintest of growls beneath it, as he held you taut in his grasp. Between your thighs, you felt his heavy cock hardening once more as he lazily humped it against you, causing your eyes to widen. After emptying the entirety of his balls into you and fucking you into next year, he was getting hard again?!

“Maybe you still haven’t learned your lesson.”

Oh, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t absolutely enthralled by Seishiro when he was like this, and you would most definitely be lying if you said you weren’t going to mess with him while he played again.

#blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk imagines #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi smut #nagi seishiro smut #seishiro nagi smut #vampiiebitez

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year ago

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𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔

🕊️a whore's farytale masterlist🕊️

summary - the town's beauty (you) finds herself bargaining her life for her fathers, will the cursed beasts go easy on her? or figure out that she's the one who can break their curse?

warning - smut, monster-fucking, choking, blood play, oral, creampie, name calling, being restrained, biting, refused orgasm/edging, foursome (sorta), being passed around, swearing, death, forced voyeurism, obsessive man, grabbing, groping, trapped, held hostage, slight angst.

18+ only please, the gifs I use aren't mine, header created by me.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The story began with three brothers, they were the same in personality but so different in looks. But the universe had other plans for the pompous Princes, the night of their party was the night a certain witch decided to teach them a lesson, one that would not only make their personalities the same, but also their looks. The sound of music and chatter could be heard from outside the castle with how loud it was. Ari, Logan and Geralt– the Princes, are dressed exceptionally well. Only the finest of clothing fits their bulky forms, expensive jewels decorate their body. Ari and Geralt both have their hair tied back in a slick ponytail, one longer than the other. A silky silver matches Geralt’s light gray suit, while Ari wears a silky blue, matching his darker blue suit. Logan has his hair slicked back, although slightly messier with a few strands falling in front of his face, the look doesn’t make him any less handsome. He wears a silky black suit, the colour looking almost devilish on him.

The brothers split from one another, Ari strides toward a beautiful blonde, twirling her as he pulls her toward the dance floor. Logan stalks off to the bar, glaring at anyone that gets in his way and Geralt heads toward a group of women, already flaunting themselves at him. The party is wild as the guests enjoy themselves, none aware of the storm brewing outside. An old woman trembles as she stands before the large doors, her wrinkled hands shake as she knocks, the sound echoing throughout the room, stopping the party momentarily. The three brothers turn, looking at the door and then to each other, a scowl on their faces, wondering who dares interrupt their party. Logan head tips back as the alcohol slides down his throat before he slams the glass down, his other two brothers express their deepest apologies. All three head towards the door, it may seem a bit extreme, but the three never go anywhere without each other. The only thing that they didn’t do together was share a woman.

Ari’s hands wrap around the handles, flinging the door open and they scowl down at the ugly old lady before them. “What do you want?” The men stand there, their bulky builds taking up the whole doorway.

“P–Please, may I come in for some shelter?” The old woman shivers, her nimble hands trembling and she clutches three roses. She offers them to the three princes, “I offer these roses for your kindness.” Her lips quiver, the cold seeming to get to her.

Logan scoffs. “God, no. Find somewhere else you wretched old hag.” The other two nod, not hiding their disgust. A shriek escapes their lips as suddenly the ugly hag magically shifts into a beautiful woman. “What the…”

Her face is set in stone, a harsh glare in her eyes. “Despicable. You’d think Princes like yourselves would be kinder. But, alas you have failed the test.”

“What? What test? You are welcome to come in, Miss.” Geralt stumbles, shamelessly checking out the Enchantress. Her lip curls as though she can see the dirty thoughts swirling around in his mind.

Her head tilts, the three roses suddenly being encased in three glass domes, the beautiful flowers floating in the centre. “No. For the curse to be broken, you will have to find someone that will want you, all of you.”

Ari scoffs. “Please. We can have anyone want us, are you blind?”

The Enchantress smirks. “What I mean is for them to want all of you in your true forms.” Suddenly magic swirls around the men and their bodies begin to grow and shred, thick luscious fur replacing flesh. Sharp claws replace nicely kept fingernails, eyes turning a bright golden-yellow. Growls begin to fill the air as canines spurt from their gums, replacing their human teeth. The usual men now beasts stood at eight-feet, towering over the witch and before they could strike, she disappeared. Her words rang in their head. ‘If you do not find someone who truly wants you before the last petal falls, you will be stuck as beasts forever.’

Years pass and nearby in a small village, a beautiful young woman named Y/n-Belle hurries through the town. You greeted people as you passed by, a warm smile resting upon your lips. You hurried over to your favourite store, which happened to be the bookstore, a giant grin appears as you push the door open and stumble through, the excitement vibrating throughout your whole body. Y/n-Belle was a very strange, but smart woman, you were the only one in town that got excited about books and reading, causing you to become an outcast and lonely within the people. But you didn’t mind, you were quite content with living in your fantasies.

The bookstore owner heads over to you, a smile on his face as he hands you one of your favourites. A book that you’ve read a thousand of times, yet would never tire of reading it. You smile, a dreamy look appearing on your face as you peer down at the book, your soft hands grabbing it gently, fingers stroking the cover. “This is my favourite! Far-off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise…” You pause, your imagination flashing before your eyes as you play out the words in the book. You blink, coming back into reality and you give the man a smile. “Oh, thank you very much!”

You spin, your blue and white dress swishing around you. You rush outside, the book already opened and your eyes flickering over the words as you walk. Your head was stuck in the book, not noticing the town's most handsome hunter heading straight for you. “Y/n-Belle!” You were hoping that if you ignored him that he would go away, but that did not seem to be the case. He stopped in front of you, nearly causing you to topple over. Gaston chuckles, “the whole town’s talking about you! It’s not right for a woman to read,” He shakes his head, chuckling as if the thought alone was funny. Yet, you had somehow figured that he’s never picked up a book in his life, his small mind proving that the more he talks. “It’s about time you got your nose out of those books and paid attention to more important things— like me!” He boasts, puffing his chest out like he is the most desirable thing to live and breathe. Truthfully, none of the men in your village caught your fancy. You were more into, well… Beasts.

You desperately try to get away without being rude, not in the mood to deal with a petulant child. You could see your escape, but as you opened your mouth to leave. Gaston’s “friend” joined, beginning to insult your father without much of a hello. Your brows furrowed and your lips pursed. “My father is not crazy! He’s a genius, but you are too stupid to realise that!” You blow up, letting your anger consume you without thinking properly. An explosion interrupts the men from responding, the sound coming from your cottage where your father is currently working on something. Without much thought, you take off running.

You arrive at the cottage, finding your father. Gaston’s words replay in your head, you sit on top of a barrel that is in your front yard. “They think I’m odd, Papa.” You play with your fingers, picking some dirt from underneath your fingernails.

“Don’t worry, Y/n-Belle. My inventions are going to change everything for us. We won’t have to live in this little town forever.” He says with a giant smile, one that used to give you hope to his dreams. But they slowly begin to dwindle as his inventions haven’t gotten any better, but you don’t want to ruin his dreams by voicing your concerns. You watch as he mounts your horse, Philippe, setting off for the fair with his new invention. “Goodbye, Y/n-Belle! Don’t worry about what others say, you will go places!”

Maybe you did still have hope, especially when he gives you another one of his smiles and a wave. You return it, watching as he goes. “Goodbye! Good luck, I believe in you, father!”

Still at the cottage, you don’t know that your father got lost on his way and the events following would eventually lead you to your future, whether it be good or bad. But it would definitely be strange, and full of twists and turns.

You sit inside, your head in your book again. Even though you had read it many times, it would still be your favourite. You are pulled out of your fantasy world as you hear a knock at the door. You get up, slowly opening it and sighing as you see Gaston on the other side. “Gaston! What a… pleasant surprise!” You force a tiring smile on your lips.

Gaston strolls in, taking his shoes off, exposing his dirty and very used socks. He takes a seat at the head of the table, placing his dirty feet on top of your favourite book, causing it to become dirty. A scowl appears upon your face at the disrespect of this man. “Y/n-Belle! There’s not a woman in town who wouldn’t love to be in your shoes. Do you know why? Because I want to marry you!”

You huff silently, knowing that the only way you could get out of this is if you politely decline and make it seem as though you weren’t worthy of him. “Gaston, I’m speechless!” You gnaw on your bottom lip, hating that this disgusting pig of a man won’t leave you alone. “I’m sorry, but… but…” You swallow, knowing you will have to force these words out. “I just don’t deserve you!” You force back scrunching your nose in disgust, watching as humiliation falls upon his face.

Without a word he stumbles out, hastily putting on his shoes causing him to trip, slipping into some mud. You peeked out, placing a hand over your lips to cover the giggle that threatened to escape past them, watching as the villagers gathered around, hoping to see some sort of wedding or at least a celebration. Only to witness their friend and fellow villager fall into some mud, causing Gaston to feel even more humiliated than before. You’d hope that would at least knock his ego down a few pegs.

You waited until everyone had disappeared from your home before rushing out to feed the chickens. You hear something causing your head to whip around and you find your horse, Philippe, alone without your father. You head over to him, checking for something, anything. “Philippe! What are you doing here? Where’s Papa?!” He whines anxiously and you immediately rush to the house to grab your cloak before running back to him and climbing onto his back. You feel frightened as you think of all the possibilities of what could’ve happened to your father. This feeling pushes you to return to the mysterious forest, allowing you to find a castle that looks like it has been abandoned for many years.

You try and steady, Philippe, brows furrowing when you spot something on the ground. With swift movements, you dismount your horse and move toward the object. A soft gasp passes your lips as you recognise your father’s hat. Without a second thought, you hurry toward the gloomy castle, pushing past the heavy doors and deciding to wander the vast deserted corridors. Your main focus was to find your father, no care of what may happen to you. “Papa? Are you here? It’s Y/n-Belle!” You were met with silence, you continued your search not knowing of the objects that are alive because of the curse within the castle walls.

You stumble along as you finally discover your father locked away in a cell. You gasp, having to kneel as the only opening was at feet level. “Papa! We have to get you out of here!” Suddenly you felt as though you were being watched.

“What’re you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t be in our castle, Little one.”

“Leave now!”

Your eyes widen when you hear three different voices coming from within the shadows. “Please, let my father go! Take me instead!”

There was a scoff filled with curiosity from the shadows. “You would take his place?”

“S–step into the light please…” You asked. Your expression morphed as you stared horrified at three huge, ugly Beasts– well, they weren’t ugly… But you wouldn’t let them know that between your thighs you felt yourself clench around nothing. You gulped, you didn’t want to be anywhere near these monsters, but you agreed to take your father’s place. “I–” You swallow the saliva that gets stuck in your throat. “I would. I will take his place.” Your words left no room for argument, you were putting your foot down. You didn’t know that you signed up for forever with the three Beasts.

As the words left your lips, one of the Beasts grabbed your father from his cell and dragged him throughout the castle, once outside he was thrown into a carriage that would take him home. The other two begin to walk, causing you to follow behind nervously. The third joining immediately, you let your eyes wander. Taking everything in, it felt like one of those books you always had your nose buried in.

Your voice cuts through the silence, sounding as though it echoes through the dark halls. “D–do you three have names?” As I don’t want to continue calling you Beasts in my head, you think the last bit to yourself. Knowing it would be rude of you to voice out loud.

“Ari.”

“Logan.”

“Geralt.”

They growl out, hardened eyes landing on your tiny form. Ari steps toward you, towering over you as you shiver, your eyes wide and you try to shrink into yourself. “Our castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you like…”

Geralt cuts in. “Except the West Wing.”

You stare back, innocently asking. “What’s in the West Wing?”

Their bodies tense and they glare as Logan growls out. “It’s forbidden!” Geralt opens a door to your new bedroom and pushes you in.

“You will join us for dinner. That’s not a request.” Ari stares you down, stopping you from protesting. They shut the door and stalk off, separating to different parts of the castle. You lie down on the bed, burying your face into the pillows. You knew you would never escape this prison, nor would you ever see your father again. Maybe you should’ve married Gaston, at least then you wouldn’t be stuck with Beasts.

The disgusting truth though was how much you weren’t disgusted by their forms. Their behaviour. It was definitely something out of those books you read, just less romantic and more animalistic. You huff, shaking your head of those thoughts. You will in no way let them find out about this. It was something different than other women would fantasie about and you didn’t want those… FREAKS! To judge you.

You refused to go to dinner when the time came, knowing you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself if you stayed in the same room as them for too long. Oh, how your father would be disgraced by the woman you’ve become. You had grown bored and hungry and had decided to wander the castle in hopes of finding the kitchen. With quiet footsteps, you exited your room and tiptoed down the halls, peaking your head around corners and stopping whenever you heard the slightest of noises.

You were no fool, the Beasts had been mad when you refused to dine with them and if one of them were to find you wandering the halls in search of food. Well you fear you may become theirs instead. Though, you wouldn’t mind them… No, you couldn’t let your thoughts wander for too long.

A small squeal passes your lips when you finally stumble upon the kitchen, happily making your way over to the fridge before a voice interrupts, causing your heart to drop into your stomach.

“You know… If you had come to dinner. You wouldn’t be so hungry now.” The voice was deep, a growl slipping through with each word. You spin, eyes wide as they land on Logan, how had you missed such a big figure? You squeak, not knowing what to reply with. Logan raises a furry brow, “Cat got your tongue, Little one?” He moves fast, now towering over you. “Or should I say Beast?”

Your thighs press together, a whimper slipping past your lips and your wide eyes stare up at him. “I–I…” Stupid, why the hell would you try to speak when you’re in this position? Your voice would give you away, you daft bimbo. You scowl at yourself, how could you be so dumb when you were the only one to read in your village? You gulp as he leans in with a smirk. You don’t know that their senses had heightened with their transformation, you had practically given yourself away since you broke into their castle.

“Hmm? No words?” Your hunger forgotten and replaced with something else. You notice how his hand, though actually a paw, comes up, a lit cigar between his clawed fingers, bringing it to his lips, puffing on it as he stares into your eyes watching as you follow his movements. “Ya know, my brothers are angry with the fact you ignored their invitation.”

Your eyes roll and you scoff. “Well, excuse me for not wanting to dine with those that are keeping me hostage.” His brow raises again, not expecting so many words to pass your lips. You gulp, where the hell did that come from?

“Huh, so you do say more than four words.” He leans closer if that was even possible, “Better watch your tone with me, Little one or else I’m gonna have to do something about it.” With those words, he disappears and you whimper. Fantastic, the only pair of knickers you have on you and they are completely drenched. You wouldn’t be surprised if the other two could smell you wherever they were.

You shakily prepare a small meal, hurriedly eating it so you don’t have another run in. When you finish, you swear you hear someone speak. But looking around, you find no one. Your brows furrow, are you finally going insane? You begin to get up when you hear it again.

“Excuse me, Miss.” You look around again, what the hell? “Down here, Miss.” You look down and let out a small squeak of surprise, there stands before you a small clock that seems alive? He blinks up at you, a smile on his face? “Hello. I am Cogsworth. I am sorry for frightening you.”

“I–it’s f–fine.” You clear your throat. “It’s fine. You didn’t frighten me, just a bit startled is all.” You try to smile, “Have you been here this whole time?” You hoped he hadn’t, you wouldn’t want to know what an object thought of the previous events.

Cogsworth shakes his head. “No, Miss. Master Logan ordered that I escort you back to your quarters. He doesn’t want you wandering about… In your condition.” His eyes squint, as though he understands yet how could you know he would? You had no clue that the alive object was once a person.

“Oh, okay.” You stand, smoothing down your dress about to follow but you stop. “Actually, Cogsworth. Would you mind giving me a tour of the castle, please?”

He looks at you for a few seconds, as though he was hesitating before he nods. “Okay, follow me. Miss.” You spend most of your night getting acquainted with your new home before you stop underneath a dark staircase. Noticing how Cogsworth seems to want to hurry past it without acknowledging it.

“What’s up there?” Your curiousity seeps through your words.

Cogsworth practically shakes as he answers. “Nothing, absolutely nothing of interest at all in the West Wing.” Your interest piqued as you heard West Wing. You watch as he’s too busy focusing on ensuring the two of you don’t get caught, especially near this staircase. Allowing you to escape unnoticed, racing up the staircase and into a long hallway lined with broken mirrors.

“Well… That’s bad luck for many, many years.” You wet your lips as you cautiously opened the doors at the end of the corridor. You enter the dank, filthy room strewn with broken furniture, torn curtains and grey, gnawed bones. Your eyes wide, taking it all in before they land on the only living object or should you say objects. There behind a glass dome were three shimmering roses. Entranced, Y/n–Belle lifted the cover and reached out to touch one soft, pink petal. You were so entranced that you did not hear Ari enter the room.

“I warned you never to come here!” He advanced on you. “GET OUT! GET OUT!” Your daze had been broken, desire now replaced with fear. You became terrified of his rage, causing you to turn and run. You run out of the room, down the stairs and past Cogsworth and a candle? You didn’t have time to stop, you needed to leave. Not even your lust for your fantasy to come true could stop you. Your feet had taken control of your body.

“Promise or no promise, I can’t stay here another minute!” You flee, finding your horse and taking off. You gallop through the snow until you are met with a pack of fierce, hungry wolves. Your eyes widen, mouth opening and closing as you don’t know whether to scream or breathe. Through your terror, you forgot about the horse you sat upon. He reared, causing you to fall to the ground, tumbling into the snow below. They were advancing on Philippe, so with quick movements, you found a large stick and defended your horse.

“Stay back!” You swing, swiping at them. Hoping and praying that they would leave. Their attention moved from your horse and you would’ve sighed of relief but instead you choked up, the wolves had now turned on you. Their canines bared as they snarl. Oh no, no no no. You thought, brows furrowing as worry fills you. Well, at least they are no longer after Philippe.

You shriek as they pounce, about to rip you apart until suddenly a large paw pulls the animals off of you. It was Ari and you notice Logan and Geralt standing behind him. Anger evident on their faces, you knew it was directed towards you for leaving and now nearly getting yourself killed. You struggle to your feet, stumbling into a pair of arms as all you can do is watch the wolves turn and strike Ari and Logan, fierce growls filling the cold air. The wolves were no match for the two, being torn off and flung as a ferocious howl escapes the Beasts, surprising the wolves before they flee into the night.

Logan grunts while Ari stumbles, collapsing into the snow. Wounded. The brothers attention now focused on him, Geralt’s hold loosening and this could’ve been your chance to escape. But what did you have at home? And when you looked at the fallen Beast, you knew you couldn’t leave him. Even though he had his brothers. Logan and Geralt pull Ari up, arms wrapped around him as he leaned against them. He was not the fighter of the two and not even he knew why he didn’t let Geralt fight in his place.

The Beasts barely spare you a glance, they began to walk away, expecting you to get on your horse and leave. But you didn’t move, with a heavy heart you watched them walk from you. Did your chance slip through your fingers? Philippe nudges you, looking at you with those big eyes and you sigh. He nudges you again, gesturing you to look and when you do, your mouth opens. The three Beasts had stopped, as if they were waiting for you and without a second thought. You grabbed your horse and raced toward them, offering your horse for Ari to rest on and to get to the castle faster so you could tend to his wounds.

Back at the castle, you cleaned Ari’s wound. “Thank you… For saving my life even though you didn’t have to.” You whisper, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “I… I hope you can forgive me for running.” You look up from his wound to his face, not knowing the feeling he feels when you look at him like that.

His paw covers your hand, “There’s nothing to forgive, Beauty. I’m the one who should apologise for scaring you.” You shake your head, his gaze gets distracted by the way your hair frames your face and how the light of the sunrise hits your skin, causing you to glow. “Do you think I’m okay enough to walk for a bit? I have something I want to show you.”

Your brows furrow, looking between his wound and him. His face makes it hard for you to say no, but you also didn’t want him to hurt himself by moving too much. You look up again, being met with puppy dog eyes which makes it harder to resist when he’s not exactly human looking. “...Okay! Okay, but only for a little bit. I don’t want you hurting yourself and ruining all of my work.” You assist him as you help him up, allowing his arm to wrap around you. Which is quite difficult seeing as there is a massive height and size difference. Oh god, you begin to think what else is huge… How would you be able to possibly fit it inside of you? You shake your head, ridding yourself of those thoughts, hoping that the Beast wouldn’t catch on.

Ari leads you through the halls before stopping upon two large doors. He leans forward, opening them and you both walk inside. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. “Oh my god!” You look around, a gasp escaping your lips. “This is so beautiful! I’ve never seen so many books in all my life!”

Ari had smiled a real smile for the first time since he was a child. “Then it is yours.” You look at him in disbelief, you could’ve dropped to your knees right then and there.

…

Okay, so you did. You fell right to your knees, not caring that they scraped against the carpet or that a squeak of desire left you as you finally gave into your desire. Ari stared wide-eyed down at you, his mouth wide open as shock filled him. He was not expecting that, if he had known all it would take was giving you their library, he would’ve done that from the beginning. “What… What are you doing?”

Your eyes widen, finally reality hits. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry!” You go to stand, but his paw stops you, keeping you in place. You could feel your knickers dampen. Not the same ones, they had mysteriously gone missing when you went to shower before tending to Ari. But you were thankful to whoever laid out new clothes for you.

“I didn’t say you had to get up. I just have never seen someone drop to their knees so fast.” He felt himself harden, his cursed body did come with an added bonus. He was now much larger than his human self, he wasn’t small before. But now it was monstrous.

You watched with wide and lust filled eyes as his pants expanded, stretching to the point it looked as though the seams would break. “Can… Can I?” You gesture to his bulge, looking up at him with large, doe eyes.

“Fuck.” He nods, growling. “Go ahead, Beauty.” His golden-yellow eyes stare down at you, canines digging into his bottom lip as you press your hand against the bulge, feeling it, squeezing it. Your hand is tiny compared to him, causing a whimper to slip from your lips and a growl from his. “You gonna play with it or suck it?” He growls, frustrated. You squeeze your thighs together, grabbing the waistband of his pants and pulling them down. You let out a moan as his member springs free. Nearly slapping you in the face with how big it is.

You lean forward hesitantly, kissing his weeping tip before bringing it into your mouth and sucking. Your eyes slip closed as you moan around it, it felt so perfect against your tongue. It was a struggle to get the whole tip in your mouth, right now you could only get a small bit in. But you were going to make this work, you didn’t know when another opportunity like this would present itself. Ari watched from above as you struggled to fit him inside, groaning at the sight.

Your tongue flicked over the slit, collecting the pre-cum that leaks out. You let out a whimper as you slowly move further down his cock, taking more of him inside of your mouth. You can feel yourself dripping onto the floor with how wet you are. Ari’s paw slams down on a nearby bookshelf, his growls fill the room, echoing throughout the castle. You rest your hands on his furry thighs, gripping them as you force more of him in, mouth stretched as wide as it can, sucking him in. One hand moves to the rest you can’t fit in, no matter how much you try and force it to. You wrap it around the base, twisting and jerking while your head bobs up and down, tongue swirling and tracing his veins, causing more sounds to escape the Beast.

You don’t notice the two brothers that hide in the shadows, watching you suck off their brother. They felt themselves become filled with hope and desire, knowing you were the one that would break their curse. Ari grips your head, holding you down as he cums down your throat, watching it overflow and drip from the sides of your mouth, trying to swallow everything desperately like the good girl you are. When he pulls his cock free from your mouth, all three Beasts take a sharp breath at how good you looked covered in cum, your eyes glazed over with a need to be fucked.

After the events in the library, everything began to change. Throughout the month, you would find yourself suddenly pushed up against a wall, lips attached to any exposed flesh, hands beneath your dress or groping your breasts. You were so sexually frustrated, the Beasts would rile you up only to leave you wanting more. They would never let you cum, they weren’t even trying to get themselves off. You began to spend your time with them, always sitting on one of their laps, never straying far. If one found you reading or even just simply existing. You’d suddenly be under them, at some point you had cried, begging them to fuck you.

That evening you were sitting on Geralt’s lap, your lip pulled between your teeth as he gently grinds you down on his bulge. Stopping whenever he felt you were too close. Logan lounged across from you, a cigar dangling carelessly between his smirking lips as his dark eyes watched you. Your gaze was pulled from Logan when Ari leant behind him on the chair. “Are you happy, Y/n–Belle?”

You hum, a bit dazed and distracted by the tingles zapping between your thighs. “Yes. I am very happy, I only wish I could see my father and know he made it home safe. I miss him very much.”

Ari hummed in response, turning as if he’s searching for something. Geralt continues his torture on you, making your head fall back as you near your orgasm again, whining when he stops, taking it away. “There is a way.” You blink, trying to focus on what Ari is saying. He moves toward you, handing you a magic mirror. In it, you see your father being locked away as the town gathered around, lit torches in their hands as they chant about killing the Beasts and saving you. An unhappy look crosses your face as you see Gaston leading it. “If you need, you may go if you like.” The Beasts didn’t want you to leave.

You shake your head, “There is no point. There is a group already heading this way, it would be stupid of me to leave now.” Stupid Gaston always ruining your peace. Why was the man so adamant on marrying you? You stand, “I am going outside for a bit of fresh air, is that okay?” You could not think straight when in the same room as them, it was like all common sense flew out the window and the only thing you wanted was for them to use you.

Ari nods, Logan and Geralt scowl when they hear about people coming to their castle. Geralt had seen the look on your face when seeing that man appear in the mirror, a plan forms and he decides to share it with his brothers. Who wouldn’t love a live show?

Your coat flows around you as you exit the castle, cold air immediately hitting you. You wander over to the blooming rose bushes, gently brushing your fingers over the petals. A sudden squeal escapes you as someone grabs you, putting their arms around you and whispering into your ear. “Hello, MY Y/n–Belle. So far from home, why not come back, huh? Come back and I’ll forgive you, Y/n–Belle, come back and we can marry.” Gaston’s voice caused unwanted shivers to roll through you, his was not the voice you wanted to hear nor the arms you wanted around you.

“I will never marry you! Why can’t you get that through your thick head?!” You struggle against his grip, teeth clenched as your words come out rough. “You have gone mad, Gaston!”

Gaston grinned evilly, “Good thing I don’t care, Y/n–Belle. Once I have killed the Beasts, you will be MINE.” You watched as the villagers tore through the castle’s doors, the sound of shouts and a fight breaking out can be heard over the howling wind. “Come. You shall take me to the Beasts, so that I can rid of them and claim you as my own.” His grip on your arm is bruising, dragging you past everyone and up the stairs. You didn’t know why he had chosen this direction, the castle was huge, there was no way he’d be able to find them so quickly… Unless he had been watching, waiting.

“Ah huh! The Beasts! You are not as terrifying as her lunatic of a father said you were!” He pulls you closer to him, three sets of growls ripple through the air as they watch your face become pained. “I shall kill you at last, so that I can claim Y/n–Belle as my own.”

“There’s three of us and one of you. What makes you think you can take us?” Geralt growls, his eyes firmly set on Gaston’s. You shivered, you didn’t know whether it was from fear or horniness. You felt yourself throb and nodded to yourself, definitely the latter. “I suggest you let go of our HoneyBelle.”

Gaston chuckles, pulling a gun from. Well you don’t exactly know where? It was definitely not in his hand or anywhere really when he grabbed you. “This. I am the best hunter there is. I shall have all three of your heads mounted on my wall by morning.” It was a wonder how his head never exploded from how big his ego was. It was almost as big as well… Your mind began to drift again and you had to shake your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts, it wasn’t the time.

The Beasts smirked, they had learnt to read your body well. Their Little one, Beauty and HoneyBelle was thinking inappropriately at an unfortunate time. You had come out of your daze in time to notice the designs on the wall come to life. Like a snake, the marble vines slithered across the floor and wrapped around Gaston’s leg. “What is this?!” He tries shaking his leg, letting go of you from the distraction. You squeak as arms pull you toward them, you look up to see Ari before he places you behind him. Gaston snarls, seeing you had gotten away. “You freaks! You think you can defeat me?! I AM THE GREAT GASTON!” He roared, but he was no match for a Beast's roar.

Having shrunk into himself as Logan roared back, it allowed the vine to pull him into a room that was conveniently set up. It dragged him over to a chair placed in the middle of the room, the arms had strangely been taken off. Gaston was harshly placed down onto the chair, the vines wrapping around him and the seat, securing the angered hunter. “I will escape this foolishness and take Y/n–Belle as my own!” He struggles against the vines grip.

The three Beasts stalk into the room, pulling you gently, but possessively along. Logan pulls you to stand in front of them, from Gaston’s perspective. You looked so tiny before them, you didn’t even look that tiny next to him and he was the tallest in the village. The Beasts towered over you, looking menacing to everyone but you.

“You will see who she belongs to. Won’t he, Little one?” Your thighs press together, feeling yourself throb between them and you nod. “Take off your dress.” Your hands move shakily as you lift your dress over your head and gently toss it to your side, Gaston’s eyes widen as he finally gets to see what he’s been wishing for. Maybe the Beasts are going to let him have a taste before he kills them. He smirks at that thought, becoming cocky once more. Logan moves toward you, staring at the hunter as he grasps your breast, squeezing it before rubbing your hardened nipples. “You see this? See how she reacts to our touch?” He growls, everyone in the room watches as you whimper, eyes watering and thighs pressed tightly together.

“Why don’t you go and lay on his lap, Little one.” He tells you, “On your stomach, no touching.” He glares at Gaston as he says the last part. Knowing in some way that the hunter would try and possibly slip through those vines like the slippery git he is. Logan’s paw hits your arse, pushing you forward with a slap. You squeal, timidly walking over to the bounded man, laying across his lap, the vines seem to welcome you instead of digging into you.

You bite your lip as you watch the Beasts stalk forward, coming closer. You whimper as Ari kneels between your legs and Geralt stands above your head. Logan stands directly in the middle, staring down Gaston who greedily stares down at you, his mouth opens and everyone knows he’s about to say something, but a vine slithers up and covers it before he can speak. Wrapping itself around until he’s gagged and bound.

“Such a pretty sight, Beauty. Are you ready to cum after all of this waiting? Hmm? We know we’ve been depriving you of it.” You moan at his words, not being able to respond or place your head down because you were too focused on the giant bulge in front of you. You throb at the sight, you could never get over how large they were.

“It seems she can’t reply at the moment, Ari. Our girl is a bit dumbstruck.” Geralt tilts his head, looking at Gaston. “Whores, you understand right?” His golden-yellow eyes narrow as his gaze turns back to you. “Why don’t you take my cock out, HoneyBelle. Show this human what you prefer.” You whine, squirming in Gaston’s lap as you reach your hands out quickly, the Beasts chuckle at how desperate you are.

You had only seen Ari’s cock, none of the other Beasts would give you the pleasure to see theirs. It felt like such a punishment when you could feel them, but you weren’t allowed to see. When you saw Ari’s you thought he was the biggest that you’ve ever seen, obviously you were wrong. Geralt seemed to at least be an inch longer, maybe more. Your eyes flickered over to Logan’s clothed cock, wondering if he was bigger than these two.

Geralt moves your head back to him, your mouth falls open as he guides his member inside, forcing it in unlike Ari. Speaking of, the other Beast dives between your thighs, lapping up your arousal like a man starved. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the intense pleasure that shoots through you. Your moans vibrate around Geralt’s member, causing him to tilt his head back and let out a roar. He holds your head in place as he begins to thrust back and forth, fucking your mouth like it’s his own personal fleshlight. You drool from being used, allowing him to thrust in and out easier.

Ari palms your arse and thighs, holding you close as he devours your sweet cunt. His tongue thrusts in and out of your glistening hole before switching to lick and suck your puffy clit, taking the little bead between his sharp canines. A giant grin appears on his face as your squeals can be heard around his brother’s cock, your squirms become frantic and your toes curl. He laps your sweet juices up, knowing he would never let you go after having tasted you.

Gaston grunts, becoming disgusted with himself as he hardens at the sight, his growing bulge pushes against your stomach. Twitching as you continue to squirm against him. Logan’s glare sharpens as he notices.

“Stop.” Everything ceases and you whine, tongue hanging out of your mouth, eyes crossed and cunt tingling as you wonder why the pleasure had been stopped. He waves his paw, gesturing for you to be pulled up. You squeal as Ari pulls you up, his large bulge presses into your back, quite close to your shoulders with how tall he was. “Are you getting off on our Little one?” The growl echoes throughout the room and goes straight to your cunt.

Logan pulls you from Ari’s hold, holding your hip with one paw while the other pulls his pants down, releasing his thickened member. You feel it slap against your body and jolt, a gasp escaping you. You had a guess that he definitely was the biggest between the three. He grasps his throbbing member in his hold, stroking it as he directs his leaking tip against your sopping cunt. Logan holds eye contact with the defenseless hunter as he thrusts into you, stretching your walls wide. Your head falls back into his chest, no sounds escape your opened mouth as you are speechless. You swear you could see colours with how delicious the stretch felt, you had never felt so full before.

The Beasts and the hunter gulp as they see the bulge appear on your stomach, it slowly disappears as Logan pulls out slowly only to thrust back in. Your arms flail about as you try and find something to grip onto, your hands grab onto his biceps, arms and fur as he begins to pound into you. Growls fill the room as Logan picks up his brutal pace, slamming in and out of you like a wild animal. His grip on your hips tighten, canines bared as he lowers his head down to your exposed neck.

“Logan!” His brother’s eyes widen as they go to stop him, but it’s too late. Logan latches onto your neck, sinking his canines into your flesh and growling as your warm blood seeps into his mouth. Your eyes roll back as your cunt clenched tightly around the Beast. Your back arches, nails digging into his flesh as you scream, cumming around him repeatedly.

“Logan!” A different shout comes through. Not his brother’s, but yours. You cry his name as he continues to pull orgasms from your small body, fucking into you harder and faster until he pulls away from your neck and roars, thick ropes of cum shoot out of his thick, angry tip and coat your walls. Filling your tiny cunt to the brim, possibly even making its way into your stomach before it drips out, coating your thighs white. He suddenly feels weakened as he pulls out of you, he stumbles back and falls. Ari catches you as they stare at their brother wide-eyed.

“The curse! It must be the curse!” The brother’s exclaim, looking at each other before looking at you with wide grins.

“Are you ready for more, Beauty?” You nod rapidly, already feeling desire take over as you think about these Beasts using you again. He pulls you over to the hunter, pressing you into the side of the chair, your breasts pushing into Gaston’s face, back arching as Ari grips onto you and you grip the chair tightly as he guides his throbbing member into your used cunt, his eyes roll back at the feel of how tight you are. “Fuck, Beauty. So perfect for us.” He leans forward, flattening his tongue against your wounded neck, licking up your blood before sinking his teeth in as he begins to pound into you, pushing you into the desperate man. Gaston is forced to suffer as your bare breasts press into him whilst you get fucked by another man. Ari towers over you, covering your whimpering form. His cock slides in and out of your fluttering hole with sharp thrusts, already feeling his end nearing. He slides his paw to your stomach, pressing on the bulge before continuing to travel down to your puffy clit and plays with it.

You jerk, mouth falling open as your walls tighten around him and your juices flow out, coating him as you cum, your toes curl and your moans fill the room. Ari follows quickly behind, stuffing his cock deep inside of you as he lets go with a roar, filling you with his cum alongside his brother’s. You feel your stomach filling from a weird angle, as he slides out of you, you look down to see your stomach bulging a tiny bit. You whimper, your cunt pulsates as you move toward Geralt, looking up at him with wide eyes. Desperate to be filled again. Not noticing Ari slumping against the wall, his body draining.

Geralt growls, gripping your throat between his clawed fingers. “You want more, HoneyBelle?” You nod, pouting. Your eyes glazed over. “What a slut you are.” He tuts, “I want to test something out first.” His golden-yellow eyes narrow as he slides his cock deep into your used cunt with one quick thrust. Watching your eyes roll back for possibly the twentieth time that night, he was surprised they hadn’t gotten stuck. He stills and you whine, clutching him, your hips move as you bounce yourself up and down his cock. His grip around your throat tightens. “I want you to watch, HoneyBelle.” You pout, looking at him before he turns your attention to poor defenseless Gaston.

Your eyes widen as you watch the vines slowly remove themselves from his body, you clutch Geralt tightly as Gaston blinks, he slowly stands and with a vicious growl, he pulls out a dagger and launches himself towards the two of you. Your cunt tightens around the Beast and with wide eyes you watch as Geralt swipes his paw that isn’t gripping your throat, his claws dig deeply into the hunters throat, large slashes appear as Gaston’s body drops. His face permanently set in a shocked expression. You whimper, feeling yourself drip around Geralt’s member.

You blink, looking innocently at his face as he smirks. “Just what I thought. You are a very nasty whore, HoneyBelle.” You clench around him, the paw that is marked with Gaston’s blood comes up and grips your face while the other moves down to hold onto your thighs. You felt so dirty, but in a good way. You don’t notice him moving you over to a wall, the vines from before slither over, wrapping around your wrists and ankles as they hold you open for all to see. Geralt grins, sliding his bloody paw down your body, leaving a trail of blood that mixes with your own. “I’m going to fuck you now, HoneyBelle. So.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Hard.” With his last word, the Beast begins to pound into you, splitting you open.

You scream and moan, your nails digging into your palms. You can’t help but struggle against the vines, wanting, NEEDING, something to hold onto. Your head hits the wall as your half–lidded eyes watch Geralt ruin you, fucking you like the wild Beast he is. His golden-yellow eyes never leave yours. Not until he leans forward and digs his canines into the very same spot Logan and Ari did, reveling in the taste of your blood, the feel of it flowing into him, dripping down his chin.

The feeling of his cock splitting you open and his canines ripping through your flesh cause your vision to go white as you cum, squirting all over the Beast. Your arousal coats him, dripping down his thick member. Geralt growls, slamming into you harder and faster, his head now out from your neck, eyes watching you before he buries himself inside of you. Cumming deep into you, his gaze flickers down and he watches as your stomach bulges a bit more from being filled by three different types of cum. He grins, slowly thrusting as he emptied himself inside of you before pulling out and falling to the ground like his brother’s.

The vines don’t pull away, you hang against the wall. Your eyes flutter as your mind is dazed. You swear you see gold swirling around the three Beasts bodies, causing your brows to furrow as you try and blink away the cloudiness. You were saddened that in place of your Beasts were normal human men… You broke their curse.

The three brother’s groan, slowly dragging themselves up from the floor. Their eyes scan each other before looking down at themselves, seeing their human selves. “Finally. The curse has been broken and I am no longer bound as a Beast.” You whimper, causing their eyes to shoot toward you.

Ari moves over, hands skimming your soft body. “Hello, Beauty.” You frown.

They were handsome, you weren’t blind. All three of them looked different to each other and their animal form. Ari with medium length brown hair and pretty blue eyes, a bushy beard covering some of his face. Logan with short dark brown hair that somehow had styled small horns on top and hardened blue eyes, a slight beard covering his face. Then there’s Geralt, different from the two with his long white hair and golden eyes, a five o’clock shadow rests on his face. You stared at the brothers. They were gorgeous for humans, somewhat god-like but deep down, you desired the Beasts within them. Somehow, it made them… More.

Geralt smirks at his work. “I am not going to lie, I will miss being a Beast.” Logan grunts at his brother’s words. The vines finally unravel from your wrists and ankles, allowing Ari to catch you and carry you over to the bed.

You would later learn that the men wouldn’t stay just men, the Beast still lived within, especially when they tasted your sweet blood before the curse was broken.

thank you for reading!

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