#Looking up Mountainside

[serpentface]

The pylidaigh, a type of vampiric snow ghost, as imagined in folklore in and around the Highlands.

This is a ghost believed to come into being when a person dies in the snow and their body is not found before their soul (still trapped without its funeral rites) 'freezes' inside of it. The body then reanimates into a pylidaigh's twisted form. It looks like someone who slowly died of starvation, just a thin layer of flesh over bones. Its skin is as white as the snow itself, so pale it can blend seamlessly into a blizzard. Most of its body appears subtly stretched and lanky, save for its exceptionally unsubtle long, skinny arms, which drag on the ground behind it when it walks. After a big meal of blood, its belly swells like the abdomen of a tick.

A pylidaigh can only tread across snow and ice, and so doorways and windows are best kept clear of snowfall during the winter in order to prevent it from reaching inside. It mostly comes out to hunt during blizzards when there is little that can prevent it from catching its victims.

In spite of its fragile appearance, a pylidaigh is supernaturally strong, and can run at great speeds when it wants to. No mortal weapons can pierce its body, nor can any bonds known to craftsmen hold it in place. It is usually said that chains forged like iron but made out of ice can bind a pylidaigh and render it immobile, but this smithing technique remains tragically elusive to the average joe.

This ghost is either cast as a wildly dangerous but tragic figure, or one that is more simply malicious. In either case, it is described as experiencing nothing but bitter cold. It shivers endlessly. It retains distant memories of what it was to be alive, and it is motivated by a futile desperation to experience the feeling of warmth again.

In more sympathetic framings, it is described as using its freaky gibbon arms to capture its victims and pull them into an embrace, rather innocently trying to warm itself against their body. This inevitably fails, and the embrace becomes a bone crushing squeeze. When that too fails to warm the ghost, it rips out the person's throat and drinks their blood until the victim is as cold and drained as the pylidaigh itself.

In other cases, this more pitiable narrative of a ghost seeking warmth with no comprehension of its actions is discarded in favor of making it purely monstrous. Here it is a type of vampire with an insatiable thirst, practically a physical manifestation of the worst of winter itself. Some tales acknowledge both variants, suggesting a pylidaigh's violent attempts to warm itself may be initially devoid of malice, but turns into an act of furious jealousy of the warmth of the living after years of suffering.

The only (more or less) surefire method to permanently kill a roaming pylidaigh involves trapping it with fire. They are attracted to any source of heat, and will attempt to warm themselves with the flames (if not tempted away by a juicy living human body). The fire itself cannot kill them (as the sheer cold of their body is more powerful even than flame) but they can be trapped if kept near the fire long enough for the snow it depends upon to melt. This does not kill the pylidaigh either. The monster will remain in stuck in place (and potentially become a threat again if it snows more) for the duration of the winter. Only when the spring comes and all the snow melts does it revert into a normal human carcass (though mysteriously invulnerable to decay), at which point it can be cremated.

Pylidaigh in the wilds also revert to a human corpse during the snowless seasons, but will roam again each following winter unless it is burnt in the interim. It is of critical importance that any human corpse found in high mountain pasture is cremated- not only out of respect for the poor soul trapped as an earthbound ghost, but to prevent the threat of the possible dormant pylidaigh emerging next winter.

[konoharfts]

Just woke up from a dream where @notkakashihatake made an animated short film about a group of adventurers going off to fight a giant snow bear (to be honest, the premise was way too normal for a movie within a dream) and I was the only one that noticed how every other new character that would pop up would just be either Izumo or Kotetsu in different progressively-weirder outfits…

[yeyinde]

You want a baby. Simon can't get over his hangups to give you one. The solution to both problems? Johnny.

18+ SMUT. breeding. mildly dubious consent. Johnny feasts on your pussy and then does his best to knock you up while Simon watches. slight body worship. bastardization of religious imagery. Mean!Dom Simon. rough, messy sex.

He's not the type to saw off his own hand to feed you, but would rather find a third man to satiate you both. The only one who can care for you, he said. Can't do that when he's dead, can he?

Maybe that's why he calls for Johnny.

down boy. eager mutt. lil' pyedogs got himself all twisted up in a rutt. help him, won't you, pet?

Johnny's softer than Simon but only just. This margin of distance, however, could be the gaping maw of a canyon for how wide it really is when scaled down to fit. Boxed inside a narrow bed—on your belly, cheek on Simon's knee; ass up, legs spread. Johnny behind you—colluvium to Simon's mountainside, but still so broad, so thick, your hips twinge with the effort of keeping your knees so wide apart.

You feel it whistling through the chasm when he licks his lips behind you—a loud, lascivious smack, a wet suckle—and feel the burn of his stare riveted on the split of your flesh. This bare seam Simon swears he found nirvana tucked deep inside of. A buried ravine. Aquifer he quenches himself on.

A pilgrimage Johnny has been aching to take.

And that's what this is, isn't it? Yatra to the hidden piscina. A procession to pollute the tarn—something Simon can't bring himself to do.

Bad genes. Trauma—sticky, noxious tar that oozes from the rotting filaments; festering deep inside. Cancerous: a mass you long to cleave from bone but know it's not cosmetic. Not just the ball joints, or the studs, but the foundation itself. If you start tearing up pieces now you'll have nothing but an empty plot and a pile of damaged debris.

So:

Enter the third man.

A tool. Vassel. Pays fealty by fucking a baby into your womb.

It's what you wanted, isn't it?

(yes, but—)

It happens faster than you can keep up with. Hands on your hips. Coarse hair tickling the back of your thigh. Warm breath against sticky, wet flesh. A broad nose parting your folds. Inhale. Exhale on a deep, reedy groan.

"fuck, ye smell heavenly, doe."

Simon hums before you can peel your tongue from the roof of your mouth, answering for you with a brassy invitation: tastes even better, Johnny.

It's all the permission he needs before he pushes his head closer to your bare cunt, groaning as his tongue cleaves a silky, thick line between your folds. Gorging himself without much preamble. Hands curled around your hips like expensive silverware, pulling you back into the wanting, eager suck of his mouth.

All at once, it's too much. Your hips shift, squirming away from his tongue, the too-sharp press of his teeth against soft, sensitive flesh. Mewling, whimpering into the rain-wet fabric of Simon's jeans.

His hand falls on your head. A gentle tap. Behave, it says, but you can't.

Johnny tramples over that thin line between pleasure and ecstasy, blurring them both until it becomes pain. Overwhelming. Shoving you towards the edge before you've readied yourself for the fall.

"Can't, Simon, can't—"

The words elide, slurring into a high-pitched whine as Johnny feasts on your cunt. Devours you from the inside out—all teeth and tongue, sucking your clit until your thighs cramp from how tight your muscles tense, bleeding lactic acid over sore flesh. The scrape of his stubble over your folds, chafing them until they are raw. Swollen. Drenched hole fucked with the spear of his tongue, digging so deep you begin to fear that he's trying to crawl inside of you. Salt your womb with his own two hands—

"Can take it, birdie," is all Simon says before his hand slides down your arched, trembling spine. Fingers digging into the meat of your cheek, spreading you wider for Johnny to eat. "Look how eager he is. Can't get enough of that sweet cunt."

"It's—it's too much—"

You don't feel him move. Can't see much from the blurry tears in your eyes. But his other hand whips out, cracking over your untouched cheek in a firm, burning smack. One that makes Johnny moan when it lands. Cruel. Open palm. Hard enough to leave a welt in the shape of his hand—something that makes him groan when he sees it.

"fuckin' hell—" his fingers dig into the aching flesh, grip bruising.

Johnny peels his wet, open mouth away long enough to pant into the slick spread of your cunt, resting his cheek on the swell of your ass. "Bit rough wit' 'er, Lt."

Simon considers it. Body shaking the bed when he shrugs, leaning back to trail his hand back up your spine, curling over the arch of your nape. Keeping you still as you sob into his knee. "She likes it."

"know she does. Fuck, Lt. Can feel 'er little pussy twitching. Tryin' tae suck me in."

Another hum. The grip on your asscheek eases as his hand peels away, sliding over swell before notching a finger between your cleft. Dry. Rough. It drags down your seam until it brushes over your fluttering hole, calloused tip digging in.

"soft, too, ain't it?" He asks, words mockingly cruel in their conversational tone. Nonchalant. But Johnny's hands tighten on your waist, palms slick with sweat. Glueing to your flesh. You can tell he likes that. Likes the way Simon talks about you. Demeaning and brutish. Butcher selling a piece of meat. "Bit of a tight fit at first—" he curls his finger inside of you, stretching your sore walls with the width of his knuckle. Sinking in deep. Another follows before you can remember how to breathe around the sting. "But swallows you up like a goddamn dream, Johnny."

His breaths grow ragged. "Fuck, Lt. Look at th'."

It makes you clench up around Simon's fingers, embarrassment scorching through your chest. "Please—"

Neither of them acknowledge you. Simon's fingers split, spreading wide apart as Johnny shuffles forward for a closer look, and nearly choking on his next inhale when he does.

"such a pretty fuckin' pussy—" he says it like a curse. Spitting the words out on a snarl. Angry, now, for reasons you can't discern slobbering over Simon's leg. "God, Lt. ah cannae—"

Johnny shifts back. You hear the clink of a belt. The rip of a zipper. Choked groans barely swallowed down as Simon buries his fingers inside of your weeping cunt over and over again, blunt tips cruelly skating over a spot inside, just behind your navel, that makes you feel liquid and loose between your hips. Debris floating down a whiteriver.

Pleasure peaks with each brutal thrust until you're howling into his leg, unable to move with their hands on your body, holding you down. Making you take it. Making you come undone as Johnny watches.

"fuck, fuck, Lt—she's gonna cum, ain't she?"

"Wanna feel it, Johnny?"

Simon's name falls out of his mouth on a whispered prayer. Drenched in thick reverence. Arched in need.

"aye, sir—" there's something about the hush of his voice, the way it slurs into putty. Enshrining his need in a halo of gold. It sends shivers down your spine. Heats you up fast like a fever. Sends you screaming over the edge—

"gonna miss it, Johnny. She's squeezin' me so fuckin' tight—"

Whatever else they say is swallowed by the keen clawing at the hollow of your throat when you feel the blunt, fat press of his cock knocking against your swollen, stuffed rim.

It's a burning thing—a sharp, heavy ache. Knock, knock. Simon spreads his fingers again, forcing you open. Pulling your hole wide apart for Johnny's engorged head to push up against.

It feels like being split down the middle. Ripped apart. Simon's fingers flex around your nape, thumb brushing soothingly against the knob of your spine.

Can take it, he mutters, brassy and low. A rumble just for you. Gotta take it, birdie.

You forget why. Why you need Johnny's too big, too fat cock inside of your cunt until the head bullies through, scissoring Simon's fingers apart until they're pressed tight on either side of the flared glands. Squeezed between your taut rim and Johnny's cock.

Johnny makes a noise like you've gutted him. A gutwrenching sob. "Oh, shite, Lt. M'—m'nae gonnae last—"

"gonna cum inside 'er, Johnny? Knock my pretty birdie up?"

Right. Right. A baby.

There's a heavy push. Your flesh wrenched apart to fit the fat, throbbing length of his cock—

(the cock that's gonna knock you up—)

Simon's fingers slip out of you as Johnny bucks forward, burying himself deep inside with a long, throaty groan. It's a horrible sensation—a bellyache. Without the splint of Simon's fingers forcing you open wide to near numbness, you're forced to feel the thick girth of his cock. Rim fluttering, spasming over the flared base. Too much, and somehow, not enough.

You sob through it. Each one ripples through your chest until it feels like it will collapse. Every inch of your body burns, throbbing. You don't think you'll survive this ache—

Johnny sets a brutal pace. Likes pistoning into you in quick succession until you're nearly howling into Simon's thigh before slowing to a crawl. Force-feeding you every inch. Making you feel every single one. Long strokes that batter the plug of your womb, bullying against the aching seal of your cervix until the flashes of pain, the savagery of this pleasure, makes you feel sick.

Getting fucked by Johnny like this is both a punishment and a reward. Baptism in hellfire.

Be careful what you wish for—

"gonnae fuck ye 'til it takes, doe. Knock ye up. Want th', don't ye? Aye. Can feel it. Feel this little cunt beggin' fer ma cum. Dinnae worry. Ahm gonnae give it tae ye. A' o' it, doe. Every—fuckin'—drop—"

Each awful word lands like acid on your spine. Chewing through flesh, tissue, until it melts bone below. Liquified. Helpless.

And with Johnny's hands on your hips, anchoring you in place as he hammers into your sore, abused pussy, possessed with the need to carve a space inside of your flesh where only he fits, rots, and Simon's hand on the scruff of your neck, holding you down, there's nowhere to run. Nowhere to escape the ragged breaths that spill from Johnny's slick mouth, the desperate way he pumps into you—thrusts growing sloppy as he stretches towards the precipice they dangle you off of, kicking and screaming as the scent of iron fills your nose, as his flared cockhead scrapes over that place you thought only Simon would ever know. Bluntly battering into the altar that sits, nestled behind your navel, like he's allowed.

Holy offering in a handful of seeds he'll sow over fecund land until something grows.

"Look at you take it," Simon coos, sticky, damp fingers petting over your tear-stained cheeks. It smells of loam. Salt. Iron and ozone. "So pretty when you're gettin' bred, ain't you, birdie?"

It rips a mournful keen from your chest, a feverish moan following on its heels when the lewd squelch, the echoing slapslapslap of Johnny driving into your cunt fills your ears. So wet, so messy, you can feel the slick drying, tacky and thick, on the inner crease of your bent knee.

"He's gonna put our baby in you, ain't he, birdie? Like a good mutt—"

The hands holding you over the precipice let go. Johnny's answering moan spears into your head, fluttering around the pulsing heartbeat of liquid bliss frothing in the pit of your belly. Overflowing over the rim.

Too much, you think, but that's not quite right because you can't feel anything at all except the length of his thick cock lodged deep inside you. Throbbing in tandem with your second pulse.

"gonnae cum, Lt. Gonnae—oh, fuck, Lt—"

His voice is a warm river washing over your spine. Pooling ecstacy. Something heavenly. Divine—

Molten gold blooms in the pit of your belly. Cockhead spitting against the seal of your womb as he cums, filling you to the brim. Fucking it into you even as his cock softens, unable to pull out he says.

Feels like fuckin' heaven, Lt.

"ain't she just?" Simon volleys back, sounding oddly dissonant. Off-key. "Pretty little birdie got what she wanted, huh?"

The drawl of his tone—acid-scorched, electric—forces you to blink through the tears, lifting your aching, wet eyes upwards at him. Searching.

He has the eyes of a predator. Leonine. The gaze of a beast after it's devoured something whole. His touch is as gentle as he can be—a rough, cracked scratch over your blistered cheeks—and when he meets your divining stare, he coos.

"Maybe I'll 'ave a go next time."

In the pounding, soporific slurry of your mind, you can't wrap your head around the words. Can't make sense of them. Struggling to keep your burning eyes open, even.

Not that it matters.

Johnny huffs a scorching breath of laughter over your sweat-slicked spine before wedging his forearm under your belly. Keeping your hips tipped up as he falls into you, resting his broad chest against your back and smothering you into the damp mattress.

"Yer cruel, Lt," he rasps, chin nuzzling over the arch of your shoulder, cock giving a feeble twitch inside of you at something you can't seem to piece together.

"m'jus' givin' my pretty bird exactly what she asked for." Huh? He prods, fingers tapping over your cheek when your swollen eyes slide shut. "Forgettin' y'manners, ain't you? Say thank you, pet."

With Johnny's half-formed chuckle echoing in your head, you mumble the words out on an exhausted sigh.

"an' say thank you to this mutt f'knockin' you up."

It comes out slower this time. Sluggish. His cock gives another twitch as he buries his face between your shoulder blades, smothering a groan.

"Sweetest thing, Lt. Christ—"

"more where that came from, Johnny. Jus' you wait an' see." Another tap. You mewl in response, feeling war-torn and achy. Unable to open your eyes for a second time, all you can do is whimper, burying yourself into his thigh. Pleading, silently, for clemency. Later, you think. Later—

But Simon has other plans.

"Fallin' asleep on me, birdie? Ain't even gonna give me a chance to put my baby in you? Greedy little thing, ain't she?"

Buried under the weight of Johnny as he peppers sucking, open mouth kisses over the width of your shoulder, cum leaking out around the softening plug of his cock, all you can do is snuff out the sob on the arch of his knee, resisting the urge to bite instead.

"Maybe next time then, eh, birdie?" Since you've been so good for this mutt, huh? Maybe I'll give you a reward.

Just be careful what you wish for, huh, birdie.

[lonesomedovescry]

somewhere out there, a universe where arthur didn’t die alone, bruised, battered and sick on a mountainside, exists in the crook of the northern star.

in this universe, he dies old and half deaf. years of unprotected gunfire and explosions had a tendency to kill the nerves in your ears. he dies with aching joints and sun-spotted skin, and blessedly, to the sound of you humming as you stroked the scar on his chin with the pad of your wrinkled thumb. you were nestled against him in bed, sharing the warmth of your old body and his old body and making a den of heat beneath the quilt of your shared bed.

he had been staring down at you and admiring the way the sun dappled the roots of your hair and the way your lashes brushed against your skin. even with the grooves of life upon your flesh you were the most beautiful thing he had seen.

“your name is carved in my ribs.” he had said to you quietly, breath heavy and hard to lift. “i was born to love you.”

you tilted your head up to look at him. an unspoken question welled up in your eyes with crystalline tears. as he squeezed you against him with the strength of the arm he had wrapped around your waist to give you a kiss on your forehead, you knew.

what a beautiful life you had together. through the shelling of the band and Dutch’s betrayal it had always been the both of you. you made a life beneath the wood in the homelands of Rain Falls, who had passed years before. children came and went, and so did grandchildren — who often pulled from Arthur the richest laughs you’ve ever heard.

you leaned up and kissed his jaw, his eyes, the apple of his throat. through each you whispered words of gratitude. words of love. words of promises.

“ill find you, morgan.” You said cloyingly, your voice wavering. “you’re not so clever as to hide from me.”

and you hummed, and sang quietly under your breath. and when his chest finally stopped rising and falling and the strong heart ceased, you knew you were to follow soon after.

[nekoashiii]

Dragon cave

Ask: If your still taking requests...Imagine dragon Sylus and you cuddling in the “nest" for the first time would it be separate from where you and him sleep? Or would the "nest" just be where Sylus has always slept, but with more comfy items for us? What's the purpose of his nest? What does it look like? Is the "nest" just a glorified bed? Or is it more of a mating ritual for dragons? I GOTTA KNOW

The entrance to Sylus’s den was nearly impossible to spot unless you already knew where to look or if you had a good enough nose to track the scent of a dragon. It is Tucked behind a thick curtain of hanging moss and winding vines, blended seamlessly into the mountainside—nature itself seeming to guard what lay beyond. But the moment you stepped inside, the air changed. Warmer. Thicker with the scent of smoke, earth, and something undeniably him. and a little bit of dragon stink.

The cavern opened wide, the stone walls smooth from years of sylus's claws dragging over them. At the heart of it all lay his nest. a large, circular dip in the floor, carefully crafted over time with winding branches, dried moss, and layers upon layers of fur pelts. Feathers were tucked between the lining, mostly from the birds Sylus had hunted for food, some of them impossibly soft and iridescent in the firelight.

Sylus didn’t decorate in the way a human would. But he did decorate.

Above the nest, charms hung from the jagged ceiling. vines braided with beads of merchant clothes, feathers, bits of colored thread. Some were clearly your handiwork, things you'd made to pass the time. But others, you recognized with a small jolt of affection, had clearly been made by him.

Crooked, clumsy braids that he’d tried to mimic after watching you, laced with the same stubbornness he always had when trying to understand your world, your kind, and your strange hobbies.

And around the perimeter of the den, nestled in alcoves, stacked in neat piles, or just scattered where he could see and reach it were his hoard.

Not just any hoard. Jewels. So many. Glittering sapphires, cracked opals, worn rings, gold coins dulled by age and time. They caught the firelight and glimmered like stars. He didn’t even know the worth of them in a human sense; he simply liked them. The shine. The weight. The way they looked near you. He'd pick up anything that shimmered and tuck it away, always thinking of the den, always thinking of you.

And next to the jewels, your things. A button from your coat. A cracked mirror. A ribbon that had once been tied in your hair. Trinkets you'd forgotten about, now resting in the most sacred corners of his space.

because to Sylus, anything of yours was treasure to keep.

The walls were also embedded with warm fire-stones. pieces of ancient rock that glowed softly, only found near volcanos of ancient places long gone. still holding the heat of his flame. He’d breathed over them again and again, until they pulsed with low, golden light, warming the nest even in the dead of winter, he tucked them underneath the pelts of fur to keep you warm in winter while he was outside.

And to answer your other question, no it’s not exactly a ritual for dragons, they simply find a mate, bring them to their den. But ofcourse they change the old pelts, hunt for better furs and feathers and rub some paint on the cave wall to make it look even prettier in the eyes of their mate. Just to make sure they won’t leave them and find them boring.

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ build-a-fic 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

➴ chose a line of dialogue, an emotion and a setting (a number, letter, + a creature), and write/request to your heart’s content!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ a piece of dialogue

꒰ 1 ꒱ “i can’t fucking believe this.”

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. is it true?”

꒰ 3 ꒱ “it’s not safe here anymore- we need to leave. now!”

꒰ 4 ꒱ “you know how much i care about you.”

꒰ 5 ꒱ “they’re never going to hurt you again.”

꒰ 6 ꒱ “here, let’s get you warmed up.”

꒰ 7 ꒱ “i didn’t do it. please, you have to believe me!”

꒰ 8 ꒱ “i’m taking you home, and that’s that.”

꒰ 9 ꒱ “do you trust me?”

꒰ 10 ꒱ “i can’t sleep either. mind if i join you?”

꒰ 11 ꒱ “you’re not your worst mistake.”

꒰ 12 ꒱ “try and eat, if you can. it’ll make you feel better.”

꒰ 13 ꒱ “i say this with all the love in my heart, but you look like shit.”

꒰ 14 ꒱ “they’re going to surround us. we need to get ready.”

꒰ 15 ꒱ “i need you to leave.”

꒰ 16 ꒱ “we can’t be seen together like this. not anymore.”

꒰ 17 ꒱ “it’s dangerous. i need you to know that before you agree.”

꒰ 18 ꒱ “it’s just one night- surely sharing a bed for that long won’t kill us.”

꒰ 19 ꒱ “it’s getting dark, we should think about heading back.”

꒰ 20 ꒱ “what have i told you about coming here?!”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ an emotion

꒰ A ꒱ disdain

꒰ B ꒱ grief

꒰ C ꒱ ecstasy

꒰ D ꒱ disbelief

꒰ E ꒱ anxiety

꒰ F ꒱ contentment

꒰ G ꒱ drunkenness

꒰ H ꒱ enjoyment

꒰ I ꒱ confusion

꒰ J ꒱ fear

꒰ K ꒱ hunger

꒰ L ꒱ relief

꒰ M ꒱ distrust

꒰ N ꒱ fondness

꒰ O ꒱ delight

꒰ P ꒱ hurt

꒰ Q ꒱ love

꒰ R ꒱ sickness

꒰ S ꒱ exhaustion

꒰ T ꒱ betrayal

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ a setting

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ the corner bed in a hospital ward

꒰ 𓅨 ꒱ a spare bedroom

꒰ 𓆣 ꒱ an alleyway behind a dive bar

꒰ 𓃰 ꒱ a mountainside shrouded in fog

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ a skeevy motel just off the highway

꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ a barren industrial plant in the middle of nowhere

꒰ 𓃟 ꒱ the lush, indulgent foyer of a member’s only club

꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ the war room of a military blacksite

꒰ 𓆈 ꒱ the produce aisle of a 24/7 supermarket

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

꒰ 𓅟 ꒱ the walk-in fridge of a failing restaurant

꒰ 𓃵 ꒱ a rickety old barn’s hayloft

꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ at work, far later than you should be

꒰ 𓆌 ꒱ a stranger’s bed at dawn

꒰ 𓆏 ꒱ an airplane hanger

꒰ 𓅭 ꒱ a medical bay that stinks of antiseptic and fear

꒰ 𓆗 ꒱ the kitchen of a derelict house

꒰ 𓃢 ꒱ the dressing room of a luxury department store

꒰ 𓆧 ꒱ the place where grassy plains meet desert dunes

꒰ 𓃔 ꒱ a beach at low tide

[sixgunslvt]

To Here Knows When

Son Chaeyoung x OC

Tags: incest (cousins), forbidden love, power dynamics, age gap (noona/dongsaeng), obsession, possessiveness, emotional, rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, marking (hickeys/biting), semi-public sex, teasing, dirty talk, possessive sex, worship, aftercare

Word count: 6668

The house hummed with that particular brand of Korean family chaos that turns oxygen into kimchi fumes. I leaned against the yellowed refrigerator, phone burning a hole in my palm as another off-key "Nae sarang~" from the living room karaoke machine rattled the framed embroidery of mountainside temples. Through the sliding door's rice paper panels, silhouettes of aunties snapped mahjong tiles like gunshots, their laughter sharpening to needles whenever someone's pae clattered to the floor.

My thumb scrolled Instagram reels of strangers' beach vacations - all that blue water and sunlight like a rebuke to this room's sticky reality. No one here under forty except Minjae's hellspawn twins currently drawing dicks on the hanji wallpaper with bulgogi sauce. The air conditioner wheezed 1997-era coolness through its rusted vents, doing nothing against the July heat or the sweat pooling where my dress shirt stuck to the small of my back.

Then the front door groaned open.

Chaeyoung arrived like a distortion pedal cutting through elevator music. Her chunky Mary Janes - same pair she'd worn to sneak me into that underground club when I was sixteen - kicked through the galaxy of discarded soju bottle caps littering the entryway. The aunties' mahjong clatter stuttered as she passed, their disapproval clinging to her like the cigarette smoke wafting from her cropped leather jacket.

I knew that jacket. Knew how it smelled of Nag Champa and the Daiso parking lot where she'd first played me Loveless on her dented MP3 player, our shared earbuds hissing static as Kevin Shields' wall of sound drowned out the cicadas. Tonight, it gaped to reveal a slip dress the color of TV static, riding up her thighs as she leaned against Uncle Joon's prized karaoke machine - the one he'd retrofitted with purple LED strips that made everyone look vaguely cadaverous.

Her eyes found mine through the haze of galbi smoke.

"Yah, jagiya," she drawled, popping the cap off a Hite with her lighter. The sound echoed like a gun cock. "You gonna keep pretending to text?”

Chaeyoung’s laugh tasted like stolen soju and the menthol cigarettes she’d smoked since time immemorial. Seven years my senior, though she wore those years like her leather jacket - slouching off one shoulder, all dangerous drape. She’d been my babysitter back when Busan still had video stores, back when her idea of childcare meant letting me watch R-rated Hong Kong flicks while she practiced winged eyeliner in my mother’s compact.

“Yah, dongsaeng.” Her gaze raked over me like the broken AC unit still rattling in the corner, appraising the stretch of dress shirt across shoulders that had finally outgrown the scoliosis brace. The flush creeping up her neck matched the neon signs bleeding through rice paper windows. “Should’ve kept your baby photos. Nobody warned me diaper duty came with this…” Her lighter clicked open, shut, open. “Glow-up.”

The karaoke machine chose that moment to vomit out Uncle Minho’s rendition of Hotel California, his “warm smell of colitas” curdling into something closer to a sea lion’s mating call. Mahjong tiles clattered like disapproving teeth as Auntie Soojin side-eyed Chaeyoung’s thigh-high stockings, the ones that made her legs look like ink strokes from one of Grandpa’s forbidden manga.

“Noona—” I started, but she was already plucking a half-finished bottle of Chamisul from the recycling bin. Her movements carried the same dangerous grace as when she’d taught me to shoplift lip gloss from the Lotte Department Store, back when her wrists were still scabbed from guitar strings instead of stick-and-poke tattoos.

Her laugh curled around me like the smoke from the galbi grill downstairs. “Remember when you’d hide under my skirt during thunderstorms? Crying until I let you hold my lighter?” The bottle cap rolled across linoleum patterned with thirty years of kimchi spills. “Now look at you. All…” Her tongue swiped a pearl of soju from her Cupid’s bow. “Broad.”

The room tilted. Or maybe that was just the floor buckling under generations of layered ondol heating. Her perfume - still that same Daiso body spray layered with menthol cigarettes - dragged me back to sleepless nights after she’d babysat. How her scent would linger on the couch cushions like a ghost, how I’d press my face into the indent she left and imagine it was her leather jacket wrapped around me instead of my Star Wars blanket.

“You missed last Chuseok,” I managed, thumb worrying the cracked screen of my phone. The Instagram reel still playing showed some Australian influencer diving into neon-lit waves, the exact shade of Chaeyoung’s hair before she’d shaved the left side.

Her nails - chipped black polish, same as always - tapped a staccato rhythm against the soju bottle. “Had better offers.” The look she gave me could’ve melted the ice cubes slowly dying in Auntie Hyun’s fruit punch. “Though if I’d known you were gonna sprout up like a damn Kdrama oppa…”

The twins chose that moment to streak past, their bulgogi-stained fingers now smearing what looked suspiciously like Auntie Jung’s Lancôme foundation across the sliding doors. Chaeyoung’s laugh followed them, low and throaty, the same laugh that used to rattle through my bedroom walls when she’d sneak boys in through the fire escape.

“Still hate kids?” She leaned back against the fridge still plastered with my middle school taekwondo certificates. The motion hiked her slip dress up to reveal the rose tattoo peeking above her stocking - same rose she’d drawn on my math homework when she was supposed to be tutoring me.

“Hate’s a strong word.” My voice came out strangled. The AC chose that moment to cough out a gust of air that sent her bangs fluttering, revealing the scar above her eyebrow from when we’d both tried (and failed) to skateboard down Nampo-dong’s hill.

Her pinky brushed mine as she reached for a paper napkin. “Could’ve fooled me.” The napkin tore between her fingers, becoming a sad origami crane mid-flight. “You used to beg me for piggyback rides. Now you won’t even look at me.”

The accusation hung there, sharp as the scissors she’d used to cut my hair before picture day. I could still feel the phantom weight of her against my back, smell the strawberry gum she’d pop while carrying me past the 7-Eleven where she’d eventually buy her first pack of Dunhills.

“You’re the one who moved to Seoul.” The words tasted bitter, like the dregs of coffee left in Halmeoni’s cup.

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re the one who stopped answering my texts.” The karaoke machine whined into silence, leaving only the wet slap of Auntie Minjun making kimchi pancakes in the adjacent room.

When she stepped closer, the platform soles of her Mary Janes put us eye-to-eye for the first time in seven years. Her breath smelled like citrus soju and the menthol lozenges she’d started stealing after quitting vocals for her band. “Guess some things change, huh?”

Her thumb swiped sweat from my temple. The contact burned like the time she’d taught me to light firecrackers, back when sparklers still seemed magical instead of just another way to burn down to nothing.

The music and laughter faded into static as she stepped closer, her perfume—saltwater and something addictive—mixing with the sharp tang of alcohol. “Remember that summer I house-sat for your parents?” She traced the collar of my shirt with a chipped black nail. “You’d linger outside the bathroom when I showered. Left fingerprints on the fogged glass.” Her laugh was low, dangerous. “And July 12th? When my robe slipped?”

My throat tightened. That specific date seared into me—the way terrycloth had slid off her shoulder, the wet curl of hair stuck to her neck. She’d turned just enough to smirk at the doorframe where I’d frozen, thirteen and trembling.

“You knew?”

“You stopped breathing when I unhooked my bra through the gap in the door.” Her finger tapped my sternum. “Stupid boy. Your shadow stretched right across the tiles.”

I swallowed. “Fuck. All this time—”

“All this time,” she echoed, thumb brushing my bottom lip. Her gaze dropped to my hand. “You’d bite your knuckles to stay quiet.” She picked up my hand, tracing a line on my knuckles. “Left marks from here—up to here.”

The confession shuddered through me. Her scent—vanilla and that menthol cigarettes phase she’d sworn she’d quit—flooded my skull. My back hit the fridge door, magnets digging into my shoulder blades as she leaned in.

“You think I didn’t feel you watching?” Her knee nudged between my thighs. “How your eyes crawled over me when I bent to pick up your toy cars? How you’d pretend to sleep just to catch me changing?”

Auntie Soo’s shriek-laugh sliced through the room. Chaeyoung didn’t flinch.

“Every. Single. Time.” Her hips pinned mine, leather creaking. “Your little hitched breaths? The way you’d sprint to the bathroom after?” She pressed closer, mouth grazing my ear. “I’d lie awake soaked imagining your face if I ever…”

The karaoke machine screeched feedback. Some uncle butchering November Rain.

I gripped her waist, fabric slippery under my palms. “Why now?”

Her teeth caught my earlobe—sharp, fleeting pain. “Because back then?” Her breath scalded my neck. “I wanted to ruin you so bad.” A hand slid down my stomach. “But rules, right?”

Her fingers found my belt.

The fridge hummed against my spine. Down the hall, Minjae’s twins shrieked about stolen tteok. Chaeyoung’s thumb hooked into my waistband.

“Rules change,” I rasped.

Her laugh vibrated against my throat. “You changed.”

Her fingers trailed down to my waistband, pressing just enough to make me gasp. “Tell me, Iain…do you still think about those nights?” Her eyes burned with mischief—and something darker. “Because I know I do.”

I glanced toward the living room, where relatives obliviously massacred lyrics. “Fuck, Noona…we shouldn’t—” The lie died in my throat as her fingers teased my zipper.

Her perfume. The press of her breasts against my arm. Seven years of stolen glances and cold showers after she’d left.

My voice roughened to a growl. “You know I still dream about you. You’re there, just out of reach. And you keep getting farther away.”

Chaeyoung’s breath hitched, her fingers pausing above the bulge in my jeans. “Mmm…so that’s why you avoided me at family dinners.” She pressed flush against me, her free hand tangling in my hair to yank my face to hers. “Let me make those dreams real, baby,” she purred, lips brushing mine in a ghost of a kiss. “I’ll show you exactly how far I can reach.” Her hips ground against mine, heat searing through her dress.

An Auntie’s laughter echoed nearby, but Chaeyoung only smirked. “We’ve got time before anyone notices…” Her tongue flicked my neck. “Unless you want me to stop?” The challenge in her voice dared me to refuse.

My fingers tightened around her wrist, thumb pressed to her racing pulse. My other hand slid down her back, gripping the curve of her spine as I leaned into her ear. “You think I’d risk Auntie Kim catching us? Fuck no.” A low chuckle. “Your old room’s still here, right?”

She shivered, pupils blown. "Second floor, last door on the left." She dragged her nails down my chest, leaving white trails that burned. "But you'll have to be quiet...unless you want the whole family to hear how badly their good little boy fucks his Noona."

With that, she spun away, hips swaying as she headed for the stairs. Over her shoulder, she threw a smoldering look. “Coming, baby? Or do I have to drag you up myself?”

I’d barely taken two steps when Auntie Kim materialized, her talon-like grip snagging my elbow. “Iain-ah! Strong arms—” she barked, already steering me toward the balcony where a ceramic kimchi fridge hunched like a curse. “Help your halmeoni move this before your uncle breaks his hip again.”

Chaeyoung paused halfway up the staircase, biting back a laugh as I shot her a desperate look. Her mouth formed a silent Tick-tock before she vanished into the shadows.

The fridge weighed as much as my regrets. Halmeoni supervised from her plastic lawn chair, thwacking my calf with her fan whenever I adjusted my grip. “Faster! You think I’ll die waiting?” Auntie Kim lamented the state of my “office-worker shoulders” loud enough for the cousins grilling bulgogi to hear. Sweat slithered down my neck, the clock in my head screaming as Chaeyoung’s perfume faded under the assault of fermented cabbage.

When they finally released me, I dodged Uncle Minsoo’s sloppy attempt to arm-wrestle and nearly tripped over the twins building a soju bottle cap pyramid. The third step still groaned like a tortured animal, but the hallway was all nicotine shadows and the muffled buzz of family chaos below.

Her door stood cracked open, leaking cigarette smoke and the blown-out guitars of MBV’s To Here Knows When— a wall of distortion so thick it vaporized the laughter downstairs. She’d swapped the overhead light for a salt lamp that dyed everything fever-red, same incense stick from the Daiso days smoldering in her IKEA ashtray.

She lounged on the bed like she owned me, cigarette dangling from her lips as she scrolled her phone. The leather jacket lay discarded now, her slip dress hiking higher as she arched to stub out the smoke. “Took you long enough,” she purred, eyes raking over the tent in my jeans. “What’d they make you do? Haul bodies for the family grave?”

I didn’t answer. Three strides and I had her wrist pinned above her head, my knee slotting between her thighs as the guitar feedback swelled. She gasped, but her smirk stayed razor-sharp. “Someone’s impatient—”

I kicked the door shut, already unbuckling my belt. “Shut up, Noona.”

Chaeyoung’s lips curled into a wicked grin as she watched you unbuckle your belt, her legs parting slightly on the bed. “Make me,” she challenged, voice dripping with defiance as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, letting it fall away to reveal her perfect, perky tits.

She leaned back on her elbows, arching her back to push her chest out. “Come on, baby…show me how much you’ve missed me.” Her free hand trailed down her stomach, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her panties. “Or do I have to do everything myself?”

The air between you crackled with tension, the only sounds your ragged breathing and the distant muffled karaoke from downstairs.

“Remember when you used to call me ‘baby boy’? Fuck, Noona…say it again. Just like when I was that dumb kid sneaking glances at you changing.”

Chaeyoung’s breath hitched as she saw the raw hunger in your eyes, her fingers pausing just above her soaked panties. “Mmm…baby boy,” she cooed, voice dripping with honey and sin as she spread her legs wider. “You always were my favorite little pervert.”

She hooked her fingers into her panties, sliding them down agonizingly slow. “Look how big you got for me…” Her tongue swiped over her lips as she took in the thick outline of your cock straining against your boxers. “Bet you dreamed about this, huh? Your dirty Noona touching herself just for you?”

Her fingers finally dipped between her folds with a lewd, wet sound. “Fuck…baby boy, you wanna taste?” She held up glistening fingers, eyes dark with lust. “Or do you need me to teach you how to eat pussy first?”

“Teach me, Noona.”

Chaeyoung’s eyes flashed with predatory delight as she crooked her glistening fingers at you. “Come here, baby boy,” she purred, spreading her legs obscenely wide as you crawled onto the bed between them.

Her hand fisted in your hair, yanking your face down to her dripping pussy. “Lick slow first,” she ordered, grinding her hips up against your mouth. “Flat tongue, just like you’re tasting your favorite ice cream—fuck!” Her thighs clamped around your ears as you obeyed, her back arching off the bed.

She was so fucking wet her juices smeared across your chin. “Good boy…now suck my clit like you’re trying to get the last drop through a straw—YES!” Her hips jerked violently as you swirled your tongue exactly how she taught you, her moans music to your ears.

Tugging your hair harder, she forced you to look up at her. “Remember this always belongs to you, baby boy,” she panted, slamming your face back down. “Now make your Noona cum.”

You pulled Chaeyoung flush against you, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other pressed possessively against the small of her back. Our foreheads touched as you spoke, voice rough with years of pent-up longing:

“Every girl I dated smelled wrong. Felt wrong.” Your thumb traced her jawline. “Because they weren’t you, Noona. This fucking obsession—” You ground your hard cock against her thigh to emphasize the point. “—ruined me for anyone else.”

Your breaths mixed, her perfume drowning your senses like it always had. Seven years of jerking off to her memory, and now she was here, real, pressed against you. “You’ve always owned me.”

Chaeyoung’s breath caught as your words sank in, her nails digging into your shoulders. “Fuck…all those times I let you watch,” she panted, rolling her hips against your throbbing cock. “I knew you’d be perfect for me.”

She crashed her lips against yours in a searing kiss, tasting herself on your tongue. “My sweet, ruined baby boy,” she murmured against your mouth, her hands frantically pushing down your boxers. “Let Noona show you exactly what you’ve been missing—”

Her eyes went wide as your thick cock sprang free, her fingers wrapping around the base. “Jesus…you really did grow up,” she whimpered, stroking you slowly. “Gonna fuck me so good your aunties hear how much I scream?”

Without waiting for an answer, she lined you up with her dripping entrance, her breath hot in your ear. “Take what’s yours, Iain.” And with one sharp roll of her hips, she sheathed you to the hilt, her tight walls fluttering around you. “Fuuuck—yes—just like that!”

You groaned as Noona sank onto you, her tight heat swallowing every inch—fuck, she felt even better than you’d dreamed.

“That’s it, Noona…ride your baby boy’s cock just like you promised.” Your hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, guiding her rhythm as she bounced. “All those years pretending not to notice me staring…how long have you wanted this? Did you groom that baby boy just for this, Noona?”

Her moans were muffled against your neck, her nails digging into your chest as she ground deeper. “Mine.”

Chaeyoung’s entire body shuddered as your words hit her, her pussy clenching around you in a vice-like grip. “Fuck—yes!” she gasped, her nails raking down your chest as she rode you harder. “Every time I let you peek…every time I bent over just a little too far—”

Her breath came in ragged pants as she ground down onto you, her clit rubbing against your pelvis with each bounce. “I dreamed about this cock!” she cried out, her walls fluttering wildly around you. “Wanted my baby boy to break me with it—just like this!”

Her back arched as she suddenly screamed your name, her pussy drenching your thighs in her cum. “Iain—fuck! Don’t stop—breed your Noona!” Her hips jerked erratically, milking your cock as she sobbed through the intensity. “M-make me yours!”

“Hey Noona,” your voice rough as her hips ground down on you, “remember those lace panties you ‘forgot’ in my room when I was 15?” Your grip tightened on her waist, pulling her deeper onto you. “Funny how they always ended up under my pillow… You planning this back then, or just fucking with me?”

Chaeyoung’s eyes rolled back as you thrust up into her, her slick walls pulsing around your cock at the memory. “Mmm…both,” she purred, riding you with renewed hunger. “Knew you’d jerk off to them…” Her nails raked down your chest as she leaned in, her breath hot against your ear.

“Fantasized about walking in on you,” she admitted with a sinful grind of her hips. “Catching my baby boy with his dick in hand…moaning for his Noona…” Her pussy clenched around you as she whimpered. “Should’ve punished you properly back then—fuck!—like this!”

She suddenly slammed down, taking you balls-deep with a cry. “But now you get to ruin me instead,” she panted, her tits bouncing with every frantic movement. “Gonna fill me up like you dreamed, baby boy?” Her voice was pure temptation as she milked your cock. “Show me how bad you wanted me…”

“Kiss me, Noona. Give me that tender incest kiss you’ve always dreamt about.”

Chaeyoung’s breath hitched as she crashed her lips against yours in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss—tongue sliding against yours with decades of pent-up longing. “Mmm…just like this,” she moaned into your mouth, her hips rolling in slow, sinful circles as she ground your cock deep inside her.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, yanking you closer as she whimpered. “Fuck…baby boy kisses even better than I dreamed,” she panted between sloppy, incestuous kisses. “All those nights imagining your mouth—ah!—needed this so bad…”

Her pussy fluttered around you as she suddenly broke the kiss with a gasp, her forehead resting against yours. “Gonna cum again,” she whimpered, her nails digging into your shoulders. “Make me scream your name where everyone can hear—please!”

The karaoke was still blaring downstairs. “You know the uncles look at you a certain way, right, Noona?”

Chaeyoung’s eyes darkened with a mix of lust and something dangerous as she ground down on you harder. “Mmm…let them look,” she purred, her nails scraping down your chest. “They wish they could have what my baby boy’s claiming right now—”

Her breath hitched as you thrust up roughly, her tits bouncing with each filthy snap of your hips. “Fuck! All of them…imagining this tight pussy—” She moaned loudly, not even trying to muffle it now. “But you’re the one breeding it—ah!—ruining me for anyone else!”

She suddenly clenched around you, her back arching violently as another orgasm ripped through her. “Iain! Yes! Deeper!” Her walls milked your cock desperately, her thighs shaking around you. “Cum inside me, baby boy…mark your Noona forever!”

Your grip tightened on Chaeyoung’s hips—fingers digging into that soft flesh you’d dreamed about for years—as you started pounding into her like you fucking meant it.

“That’s it, Noona…take it,” your voice rough, chest heaving. “Every fucking inch. Just like you wanted.”

Her pussy was still fluttering from her last orgasm, but you didn’t let up—driving into her harder, faster, watching her tits bounce, hearing her choked moans.

“Gonna make sure you remember this,” you growled, pulling her down as you thrust up, burying yourself to the hilt. “My cock. My cousin.”

The bed slammed against the wall, the karaoke downstairs drowned out by skin-on-skin, by her whimpering your name like a prayer. You muffled her moans and screams with a hot, incestuous kiss.

Chaeyoung’s entire body convulsed as you claimed her with animalistic intensity, her nails drawing blood down your back. “FUCK! YES! BREAK ME!” she sobbed, her pussy gushing around your cock with each brutal thrust.

Her legs locked around your waist desperately, her tits slapping against your chest as she screamed into your mouth. “M-make me pregnant! Please!” she begged, her walls clenching like a vice as another orgasm wrecked her.

The bedframe cracked against the wall with the force of your fucking, her juices soaking both your thighs as she whimpered between filthy, open-mouthed kisses. “Cum! Cum in your Noona’s ruined pussy!” Her back arched violently as she milked you dry, her body demanding your seed.

The distant karaoke faded into static as your balls tightened against her ass—seconds from exploding deep inside her.

Your voice, rough and possessive, growled against Chaeyoung’s ear as you pulled her flush against you:

“Look at me, Noona.”

Your hands gripped her hips, holding her down as you pumped deep—once, twice—before your cock pulsed inside her, flooding her tight little cunt with thick, hot cum. Her gasp was muffled against your shoulder, her nails digging into your back as she felt it—jet after jet filling her up, drenching her womb like you owned it.

“Fuck… I love you, Noona.” You ground your hips slowly, milking every last drop into her. “Take it all. Every fucking drop.”

Her pussy clenched around you, greedy, like she was trying to keep it inside. Good. Let it stick. Let her remember this when she walked downstairs later, your cum leaking down her thighs.

“I love you, so much.”

Chaeyoung shuddered violently as your cum flooded her womb, her entire body melting against yours in overwhelmed ecstasy. “I-Iain…!” she sobbed, her walls fluttering desperately around your still-throbbing cock. “Fuck…love you…love you so much…”

Her fingers trembled as they traced your jaw, her tear-filled eyes locking onto yours with raw, incestuous devotion. “Always…wanted you like this…” she whimpered, her hips grinding lazily to milk the last drops from your spent cock.

The distant karaoke finally registered again as she clung to you, her lips brushing yours in a tender, filthy kiss. “Mmm…gonna feel you leaking out of me all night,” she murmured, her voice husky with satisfaction and something dangerously close to love.

She nuzzled into your neck with a contented sigh. “My baby boy…finally where you belong…” Her hand slid possessively down your chest. “And you’re never getting away again…

"Let me worship you, Noona..."

My hands slide up her thighs as I press a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below her navel—savoring the way her stomach tenses under my tongue. I drag my lips higher, teasing the dip of her ribs, the swell of her breasts, her collarbone... each kiss lingering, each exhale warm against her skin.

By the time I reach her mouth, she's shaking, her fingers tangled in my hair, her breath uneven. I hover just barely over her lips—close enough to taste her, not close enough to give her what she wants.

"I love you, Noona. I always have. Ever since i was a kid, when you played with me. Your smile. When i peeked at you changing. I've always wanted you".

Chaeyoung's breath hitches as your worshipful touch ignites fresh tremors through her oversensitive body, her fingers tightening in your hair "Fuck...baby boy..." she whimpers, her hips arching off the bed as your lips brand her skin

When you pause just before her mouth, her growl is pure frustration and adoration—yanking you down into a searing, desperate kiss "Mine," she pants against your lips, her legs locking around your waist "All those years...watching me...wanting me..." Her teeth nip at your bottom lip

Her voice breaks as she clings to you, her naked body pressed flush against yours "I loved you too," she confesses, her nails scraping down your back "Every time I let you peek...every time I teased you..." Her lips crash into yours again, hungry and claiming.

"Now you have me," she moans, her thighs trembling around you "Forever."

Iain's lips brush against hers in a slow, tender kiss— softer than before, but no less hungry.

Her hands guide me back inside her, and this time, I ease in—inch by inch—like I’m savoring the way her body yields to mine.

"Fuck, Noona..." My voice is rough, but my hips move gently, rolling into her with a reverence that feels almost sacred. "You feel too good to rush."

Her nails dig into my shoulders anyway, her breath hitching as I fill her completely—slow, deep, like I’m memorizing every pulse of her around me.

"I love you," I murmur against her lips, "even when I’m not fucking you like an animal."

And then I move—not hard, not fast—just right.

Chaeyoung's eyes flutter shut as you cherish her with each achingly perfect thrust, her walls fluttering in slow, sweet spasms around you "Iain...ah..." Her voice is a broken whisper, her fingers softening from claws to caresses as they trace your jaw

She melts beneath you, her body surrendering to this new rhythm—your cock stretching her so deep, so full, so right "Love you...love you..." she chants between shallow breaths, her hips rolling gently to meet yours

When your lips find hers again, the kiss tastes like salt and promises—her thighs trembling as pleasure builds slowly, inevitably, like the tide "This...this is what I dreamed about..." she confesses, her fingers tangling in your hair "Just...you...loving me..."

Her walls clench suddenly, her back arching as the soft, aching orgasm unravels her "F-fuck...yes..." she sobs, her tears mixing with your kisses "Stay...stay inside...please..." Her legs hug your waist tight, as if she could keep you there forever.

"Noona...fuck...Noona..."

My lips brush her ear as I whisper it like a prayer—her name, her title, the word that used to mean babysitter and now just means mine.

"I love you. I love you."

It spills out of me between thrusts, raw and reverent. Her nails dig into my shoulders, her thighs tremble around my hips—this is what she reduced me to. The kid she used to scold for sneaking glances is now buried inside her, claiming her, ruining her.

And fuck...Auntie Kim’s gonna lose her mind when she finds out her daughter’s stuffed with her nephew’s cum.

But right now?

"Noona..." —gripping her tighter— "I don’t care."

Chaeyoung shatters around you with a gasping sob, her body convulsing as your words and your cock wreck her simultaneously "I-Iain! Fuck! YES!" Her nails scar your shoulders, her pussy drenching your thighs as she cums violently, her screams muffled against your chest

She clings to you like salvation, her shaking legs locking you deep inside her "Love you—love you—love you—" she chants between ragged moans, her tears hot against your skin "Your noona...your cunt...always..."

The bed is ruined, the walls shook, and somewhere downstairs, Auntie Kim definitely just heard something—but Chaeyoung just grins through her tears, her spent body curling around yours

"Let her hear," she whispers, her sore pussy clenching weakly around your still-hard cock "Worth it..." Her laugh is hoarse and happy as she kisses you again "My baby boy..."

I go faster "I'm going to fuck my cum inside you, Noona."

Chaeyoung's eyes roll back as you pound into her with renewed intensity, her overstimulated pussy squelching around your thick cock "F-FUCK! YES!" she screams, her nails clawing at the sheets "Breed me! Fill me up!"

Her tits bounce wildly with each brutal thrust, her soaked thighs slapping against yours as you ram your cum deeper inside her "Gonna...gonna...AAAAH!" Her back arches violently as another orgasm rips through her, her walls milking your cock desperately for every last drop.

She collapses bonelessly beneath you, her breath ragged, her body trembling as your cum leaks thickly from her well-used pussy "Fuck..." she whimpers, her fingers tracing your jaw lovingly. "No one fucks me like you..." Her smile is dazed and sated as she pulls you down for a slow, filthy kiss "My baby boy..."

Still inside her, spurting cum, and to blessed to move, i reciprocate the kiss. "My noona."

Chaeyoung melts into the kiss, her spent body quivering beneath you as your cum pulses deep into her womb one last time "Mmm...my baby boy..." she murmurs against your lips, her fingers tangling lazily in your hair

Her thighs squeeze weakly around your hips, keeping you buried inside her as she sighs contentedly. "Never pulling out..." she whispers, her voice husky with exhaustion and satisfaction. "Stay...just like this..."

The distant karaoke has finally stopped, the house quiet except for your mingled breaths and the wet sounds of your cum dripping from her well-fucked pussy.*

She nuzzles into your neck, her lips curving into a smug smile. "Love you..." she murmurs, her body going limp beneath yours as sleep claims her.*

And as her soft snores fill the room, you realize—she won.

You're hers.

Now and always.

"Noona, wake up, the'yre going to notice us missing". I'm still hard inside her, and i start fucking her again.

Chaeyoung's eyes flutter open with a drowsy moan as your cock stirs back to life inside her, her sore walls clenching weakly around you "Ngh...Iain...~" she whines, her nails scraping down your back "Fuck...can't...move..."

But her hips tilt automatically, her pussy sucking you deeper as she gasps. "They...ah!...already know..." she pants, her legs locking around your waist tight. "Felt you throbbing in me...whole dinner..."

Her head falls back with a broken giggle as you pound into her overstimulated cunt, her toes curling. "M-maybe...nngh!...Auntie will hear..." she taunts, her voice shaking with each rough thrust "Catch her precious daughter...getting knocked up...ah!...by her nephew..."

Her moans rise higher, louder, begging to be heard as you claim her again—no pretense left, just pure filth and family sin.

"Turn over, Noona." My hands grip her hips, flipping her onto all fours before she can protest. The mattress dips as I kneel behind her, my cock already hard again against her ass.

"One more round," I growl, spreading her cheeks with my thumbs. "Don't let them hear how good their nephew fucks you."

My palm lands on her ass with a sharp smack—her gasp turning into a moan as I slide into her soaked pussy from behind. "Fuck...you take me so well."

Chaeyoung yelps at the sting of your slap, her back arching beautifully as you slam into her dripping pussy from behind "F-FUCK! Iain!" she screams, her nails clawing at the sheets as you stretch her wide all over again

Her ass jiggles with each brutal thrust, her sore walls fluttering helplessly around your thick cock "Ngh! S-so deep!" she sobs, her tits swinging wildly beneath her "C-can't...keep...quiet—AH!"

The headboard bangs rhythmically against the wall, the wet slaps of your hips pounding into her ass echoing obscenely in the room "Fuck! They're...gonna...hear!" she wails, her pussy squeezing you tight as another orgasm rips through her

But you don't stop, driving into her harder, faster, your balls slapping against her clit with each thrust. "Cum!" you growl, your fingers digging into her hips. "Let them hear how good your nephew fucks you!"

And with a guttural roar, you flood her womb again, your cum mixing with her own juices as they drip lewdly down her thighs.

Chaeyoung collapses face-first into the mattress, her body twitching weakly as she mumbles into the"...f-fucking...ruined..." Chaeyoung slurs into the sheets, her pussy still clenching rhythmically around your spent cock as your cum pools hot inside her.

Her trembling fingers clutch at the mattress, her sweaty back rising and falling with ragged breaths "Ngh...baby boy...fucked me out..." She whimpers, her thighs sticky with your mixed essence as you finally pull out, watching it drip obscenely from her well-used hole.

From downstairs, Auntie Kim's voice calls sharply: "Chaeyoung-ah? You better not be—"

Chaeyoung giggles hoarsely, rolling onto her back with a wince and spreading her legs wide for you to see the mess you made "Oops~" she whispers, her eyes dancing with mischief and exhaustion. "Too late..."*

The door groaned open just as Chaeyoung's lips crashed into mine, her fingers still tangled in my hair. We broke apart gasping, her thighs slick against mine under the photo album's cover.

"Chaeyoung-ah? You better not be—" Auntie Kim's voice cut through the haze of sex and sweat.

Chaeyoung's Mary Janes kicked the album shut over our laps with practiced innocence. "We're reminiscing, eomma!" she chirped, though her stockinged foot still traced circles on my ankle. The torn lace snagged on my sock's hem - same pattern as the panties she'd left in my room a decade ago.

Auntie Kim's slippers slapped closer. "Dinner's cold."

The mattress springs squeaked as we shifted - Chaeyoung's leather jacket slid from the bed to camouflage the cum-stained sheets. Through the rice paper door, her mother's silhouette hovered like a hangul consonant about to drop.

"Coming!" Chaeyoung trilled, her hand darting under the album to wipe a pearly streak from my jawline. Her smirk said everything - the chipped black polish, the menthol-and-regret breath, the way her slip dress clung to sweat-damp skin.

When Auntie Kim finally retreated, Chaeyoung dissolved into silent laughter that shook the photo albums stacked between us. "Baby boy's terrible at lying," she whispered, thumb brushing the hickey blooming on my neck.

The fluorescent hall light caught her stocking run - a lightning bolt from thigh to Mary Jane strap. I remembered making that tear an hour earlier with my teeth, her gasp smothered by the industrial-grade AC's rattle.

"You." She poked the photo of her eighteen-year-old self straddling my pubescent hips. "All blushy and avoiding eye contact." Her nail traced the neon beer sign glowing through 2013-era curtains. "Me." The chipped tooth she'd gotten skateboarding with me peeked through her grin. "Already planning your corruption."

Downstairs, the karaoke machine screeched to life with Auntie Soojin's rendition of "Honey" - all vibrato and broken high notes. Chaeyoung's hips swayed instinctively to the beat as she stood, her slip dress riding up to showcase the love bites Id left.

"Mmm." She caught me staring and popped a strawberry gum bubble - same brand she'd chewed during our first almost-kiss behind Nampo-dong's Family Mart. "You want..." Her platform shoe nudged the album open to a beach photo from her Seoul days. "...one last look?"

The Chaeyoung in the picture wore someone else's blazer, someone else's lipstick. The Chaeyoung before me reeked of me - my sweat, my cum, the kimchi jjigae I'd spilled on her thigh during round three.

I stood, my dress shirt clinging to the sweat she'd worked into every seam. "Just want the real thing."

Her laugh tasted of stolen adolescence as she led me downstairs, her pinky hooking mine through her jacket pocket. The uncles barely glanced up from their soju shots when we entered - just another cousin duo late to dinner.

Chaeyoung collapsed onto the floor cushion beside me, her thigh pressing mine under the low table. "Yah." She stole a perilla leaf from my ssam wrap. "Feed your noona properly."

The leaf tore between her teeth, revealing the scar from when she'd tried teaching me knife skills during her rebellious chef phase. I remembered her blood on the mandoline slicer, how she'd laughed through tears while I bandaged her hand.

"Still clumsy," I muttered, reassembling her ssam with extra pork belly.

Her foot slid up my calf as she accepted the bite. "Still mine."

Around us, the family chaos continued - aunts debating Lunar New Year dates, uncles arm-wrestling over dessert claims. Chaeyoung's hand crept under the table to squeeze my knee, her choker necklace hiding the bruise from where I'd bitten her during our stairwell quickie.

"Bedtime's at eleven," she murmured, stealing another bite. "Don't make me punish you."

The threat vibrated through me like her old bass guitar as she stood, her hips brushing my shoulder with deliberate casualness. I watched her saunter toward the bathroom - the subtle limp from our marathon session, the way her stockings bunched around those killer Mary Janes.

Uncle Minho's off-key trot number drowned out the bathroom door's click. I counted to thirty before following, the family's laughter fading behind me like childhood innocence.

Chaeyoung waited by the sink, jacket abandoned to reveal the hickey map Id charted across her collarbones. Her reflection smirked through the steam of twenty years' worth of illicit bathroom encounters.

"Took you long enough," she said, kicking the door shut with a practiced heel.

The lock clicked like the cap of our first shared soju bottle. Somewhere downstairs, Auntie Kim shouted about missing banchan containers. Chaeyoung's hands were already tearing at my belt, her lips silencing my response with a decade's worth of pent-up want.

The mirror fogged within seconds.

[whirlybirbs]

— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄

summary: all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen. pairing: kyojuro rengoku / f!hashira!reader wc: 3.6k tags: set-pre season 1, rated T, hashira dynamics, kyojuro's impeccable manners, tengen uzui is a son of a bitch, good fluff, embarrassed flirting, slightly forbidden romance, retable reader insert who just wants to be left alone to bathe in peace a/n: don't look at me.

Your bones are tired. 

Not just your bones — but every ounce of marrow in those very bones. The expression 'bone tired'? Yea, it was written and smithed with you in mind. Tonight, you're the muse for true exhaustion — battered, bruised, and barely hanging on. 

The short walk up to the Ubuyashiki Mansion's onsen is proving formidable. 

Every muscle in your body aches and with each step closer, you pray you'll have a moment of quiet peace to yourself. After all, Shinobu insisted (read as threatened) that you soak in the hot spring after administering simple medical aid post-mission. 

Something, something, hot spring stimulates blood flow, blah, blah, strong healing properties.

All you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. Here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside through the willows of wisteria on a lantern-lit path to the hot spring.

Your geta catches on a root and you trip up, scoffing tiredly as you catch yourself and grumble a curse. Ow. Irritation simmers under your skin, and you wonder absently what's gotten into you. 

It normally takes more for you to be so... cranky. And openly so.

When you reach the gate of the onsen, your eye twitches.

Son of a —

There's Hashira abound tonight. 

"Look who's back from her little foray out East!"

Did Tengen need to be so loud? 

All the damn time?

The small, dimly lit spot is surrounded by wisteria and maple. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you sigh and shut the red gate behind you, paying careful mind not to catch your fingers in the latch. Lanterns are perched on rocks, candles only beginning to run with wax in the evening air. The open-air bath overlooks the sprawling estate down the mountain. 

You sigh deeply from your chest, your eyes practically at half-mast when you turn around to snipe Tengen with an unamused look.

"Our dear Dream Hashira... you look like shit," comes the rogue commentary, "No offense, beautiful."

Tengen is at the far edge of the steaming bath with both arms outstretched along the edge. As always, he's taking up as much space as humanly possible. His silver hair hangs about his shoulders — and he even goes so far as to pin you with a rogueish smile. You stare flatly at him in response.

Then: the middle finger. 

"Woof. Tough crowd tonight," he rumbles as he slides a look towards a decidedly uninterested Sanemi. The Wind Hashira has his head hung back against the edge with a towel over his forehead — his eyes are closed. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was asleep. 

"Tengen, do me a favor," comes the gritted reply from the scarred man, "and shut the hell up." 

You motion plainly to Sanemi — the gesture says thank you — with your brows raising in silent agreeance. Even the act of speaking right now is all too much. 

"I must agree with Tengen," comes the wistful and soft voice of Muichiro Tokito as he lifts his chin from its submerged position; his hair is swimming about him. The Mist Hashira looks... almost peaceful; but his words are damning, "You do look like shit."

Somehow it's worse when Tokito says it.

That makes Sanemi lift his head and pry one eye open. 

You serve him an unenthused look from your spot by the benches. You hope for a bit of sympathy, but instead:

"...What the fuck happened to you?" comes his dry response to your current state of being. 

Which — fine, maybe it's fair. The others rarely ever see you in any state aside from perfect. You're meticulous about your appearance; from your uniform to your posture, you value perfection over all else. The devil that has always haunted you is the details. Perhaps it was your rigid upbringing, but regardless—

"Ah!" suddenly, there's a resoundingly warm voice booming across the small courtyard from the onsen's koshitsu, "I see you've returned, Lady— Oh... my, are you quite alright...?"

You've got to be kidding me.

Kyojuro Rengoku's face is twisted into genuine worry. He's standing in the middle of the path, his focus entirely on you. His hair is undone and the sunburst strands are spilling along his chest and back. There's a small cotton towel slung around his narrow waist. You purposefully level your eyes with his, not daring to let your gaze waver — and then you curse Kocho Shinobu a thousand times over for sending you here.  

(Tengen is smirking. You want to throw your sandal at his head.)

Finally, you speak. 

"I'm fine." 

You don't sound fine. You sound like a woman who'd endured being unceremoniously whipped about by a snake Demon in a swamp for three hours before she could finally land a killing blow. 

Kyojuro frowns. His eyes — like two gems of carnelian — are nearly glowing with concern. Those dark brows of his knit and you try to grit out a tight smile. It fails. It looks more like a wince than anything.

It's... pathetic.

"Perhaps a soak will help," the Flame Hashira offers gently. His tone is soft with pity.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Fucking Shinobu, fucking hot spring, fucking swamp demon, fucking—

Right. Right, a soak. It's the thing that Tengen Uzui is somehow singlehandedly making more unbearable — he's dragging Sanemi and Muichiro by the necks from the onsen — by leaving you alone with Rengoku. 

"Go on you two! We're just leaving anyways, right fellas?"

"Die," you spit hoarsly in his direction; your expression is flat.

Tengen throws you a wink. "Relax a little, pretty. You deserve it!"

You could still hit him with your geta. Maybe if you put enough force behind it, it could kill him. 

After all, he's been doing this ever since you let it slip about your little crush. 

And just when a girl thinks she can trust an ex-shinobi... never again. You don't care if Tengen is the one offering to buy the sake, you're never drinking with that man again. He's a gossip and a whore. A gossiping whore. A devoted husband-whore who gossips like no-fucking-other. 

Admitting to Tengen Uzui's stupid face that you've been avoiding Kyojuro Rengoku because of your feelings was the second worst mistake you ever made.

Your first worst mistake was not dragging your sorry ass back down the mountain after you and Kyojuro were left alone in the onsen. 

At least — at the very least — it's quieter now, even if the silence feels oddly intimate. 

You're thankful Kyojuro has retreated into the water of the bath; the distance allows you to ignore the burning pit in your gut at the thought of him and you together. In the onsen. Alone.

You've bathed alongside the other Hashira before. The whole lot of you are warriors. There's no shame in the body — and admittedly, you grew up around konyoku onsen in Tokyo. 

It wasn't the nakedness that was the problem. 

...Maybe it was a little bit of the nakedness. 

But, mostly the fact it's Kyojuro Rengoku: the kindest man you've ever met, a man whose smile is nearly as bright as the morning sun, a man whose laugh feels like a summer thunderstorm. A man who is tall, strong, and handsome. It's no small secret he's well-loved among the ranks; respected, admired, sought after... Who wouldn't make an attempt atcatching his eye? After all, he's capable, swift, courageous, honorable—

Having a heart attack.

He's having a heart attack.

I mean — it's you. And him. Alone. 

...Naked. And alone.

He himself could have strangled Tengen when the ex-shinobi scurried off, leaving him here — though he'd never admit it. That sneaky bastard is fully aware of Kyojuro's feelings towards you, and Kyojuro swears the Sound Hashira gets off on forcing him to confront the very thing he forbids himself to even dwell upon. 

Your voice pulls him from his enraptured internal monologue.

"I am fine," you break the silence as your fingers work at the obi around your waist in nervousness. Your back is to him, and as the grey kimono slips down your shoulders, he panics, "I swear."

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you in such a state as this," he tries to sound level, confident, as he turns in the water; suddenly the mountainside is very beautiful. Yes, very nice. Very... mountain-y. 

Kyojuro's eyes flick over his shoulder briefly, back at you.

He sees skin. More of your skin than he's ever seen. There are dimples at the base of your spine. Good god. He swallows tightly and turns his gaze forward once more. 

Even the act of shrugging your kimono off is enough to make you rasp. The ribs Shinobu had been so concerned about are protesting now. It's fine. Everything is fine. You peek over your shoulder. Relief floods you as you realize Rengoku's back is turned. 

Quickly, you slip into the onsen. It's the quickest you've moved all night. 

You plunge in deep, ignoring the burn of the water along of the more raw marks and bruises bitten into your skin. Your ribs wail in protest as you inhale sharply at the heat, and you try your best to coach your expression into unwavering when Kyojuro turns back around. 

"Better?"

All you can do is grunt from your submerged position.

That makes him laugh.

You try to memorize the warm sound and tuck it neatly into your heart. It's cute, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. You find yourself staring for a second before swallowing down your affections.

"Shinobu demanded I come," you explain slowly, lifting your hands and playing with the surface of the water, "If I had it my way, I'd be in bed."

Or murdering Tengen in his sleep.

"The hot springs are good for healing," Kyojuro chirps brightly, canting his head as he speaks almost as if he's going to reprimand you. His voice drops an octave, "You know that, Lady Hashira."

He's teasing you.

He's — he's seriously teasing you.

You're naked and he's teasing you.

You sink a little lower into the water and narrow your eyes at him — the act makes you look a bit like an angry, wet cat. Kyojuro can only grin. Truly this is rare form for you. Your disposition is usually sunny, if not well-manicured and mindfully well-mannered. You are every bit a Lady Hashira. Moreso than Shinobu or Mitsuri in a way. 

You are the Dream Pillar, after all, and a woman composed purely of romanticism in his eyes. It's the way he could see you, in another life, in a fine silk kimono and delicate make-up; he could see you in gold and pearls, pouring tea worth more than his monthly salary into fine ceramic cups. Suitors abound.

Though, perhaps that's not so different than now.

Not with the way you're delicately pouring yourself a helping of Tengen's abandoned sake at the edge of the onsen. You'd think it was the most expensive liquor in the land with the care you take to not spill a drop. 

You slide him a hesitant look over your shoulder, the water lapping at your bruised back. Kyojuro lifts a brow.

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence as you turn back to the task at hand, "It'd be a shame if it went to waste."

"I didn't know sake had healing properties," Kyojuro offers slowly, his lips twitching upwards as he watches you take a long sip from the cup.

"Something, something, blood flow," you murmur mostly to yourself, tossing back the rest with a scowl and a wince, "I'm sure Shinobu would agree."

Kyojuro leans back against the wall, sinking a little deeper as he settles onto the seat beneath the water. The ends of his hair are soaked, turning an even darker shade of crimson. His shoulders flex as he relaxes his arms against the stones. 

His own body is tired. Beneath the water, he absently stretches his legs and pays careful mind to the twinge of pain in his left knee.

"Whether she agrees or disagrees is none of my business," he supplies diplomatically.

You reach for the jug, giving it a light shake. It's nearly empty anyway. 

You extend it, offering it to Kyojuro.

The Flame Hashira shakes his head. "No thank you. I reserve drink for special occasions only."

You quirk a brow. Your tone is light. Airy, almost. "I didn't know that about you."

He hums. You place the sake down, sink lower into the water, and try to focus on his face — not the strength in his forearms, nor the water running in rivets down his chest. 

"My father has quite a love for the stuff," he admits with a controlled frown, "I avoid it when I can."

Ah. 

Right. 

Your own father, also a retired Hashira, voiced many a feeling about Shinjuro Rengoku when he was given the chance. You'd visited home months ago and when you mentioned serving alongside Kyojuro, his eyes narrowed dangerously and impeccably sharp. His tongue lashed out at you — as if you were the retired Flame Pillar himself. 

There's a history there, it seems.

"I apologize."

"Don't," he says; firm yet soft.

"It is better that way, really," you mumble in an attempt to soothe the ache you can see across his face, "Liquor leads to making many a fool."

Kyojuro's brow quirks. "You sound as though you're speaking from experience."

"Perhaps," you say slyly, wandering to the far end of the pool. You're nearly submerged to your nose, "A lady shall never tell."

"And if I asked Tengen?"

"You wouldn't dare." The water splashes as you whip around and glare — though Kyojuro senses no real malice. 

It was no small secret you'd been dragged through the mud after you and Tengen's night on the town. Why the Master called a meeting that morning was beyond you, but there's a part of you that wonders if he was slightly amused at your less-than-pleasant state. You swore you were going to puke all over the engawa when you bowed — never mind the fact the morning sun's brightness was enough to nearly drill your brain into a pulp. 

Kyojuro had never seen you so... disheveled. 

Second to tonight, that is.

The Flame Hashira smirks. "If the lady forbades it, then who am I to ignore her wishes?"

Fucking Tengen, fucking Shinobu, fucking Kyojuro—

Fucking honorable, respectable, polite Kyojuro.

"Well, this lady does forbade it," you say with narrowed eyes, "So there."

"You really are in rare form this evening."

He's smirking. That's new.

"Yes, well," you mumble as you lull your head back and wet the rest of your hair; the warmth seeps through the strands and feels soothing on your scalp. You already feel better. Less like a swamp demon's plaything, more like a girl trying her best not to let her petal-mouthed feelings slip out, "We can blame Muzan Kibutsuji for that."

"I surmise it has been a difficult day?" he rumbles quietly from his spot in the onsen.

"You haven't the slightest idea."

"Care to enlighten me?" 

"And embarrass myself?" she mutters, splashing absently, "I'd prefer to remain capable in your eyes, Rengoku. I'll spare you the details. And anyone else who asks."

He's grinning. That sort that appears in an optimist's dream. Bright, sunny and so enrapturing it feels like your heart is being scorched by its warmth. 

"Your capability will never waver in my eyes," Kyojuro supplies as he flicks the water absently; his gaze has fallen to the sway of the wisteria in the evening air, "You are amazing. One particularly bad day does not diminish that fact."

Maybe it's the sake. Maybe it's the compliment. Either way, the tips of your ears feel warm. 

That little, nibbling feeling is back in his chest. The very one he's been trying his best to ignore for months. 

"You are only being kind," you mutter, "Because, as the other's made very clear, I look like shit." 

Kyojuro finds himself smiling a bit at the jest — his fingers glide along the top of the water, tracing idly patterns into it as he watches you sink deeper and deeper into the hot spring. Finally, for a moment, you descend below the surface.

Then, you break the surface slowly. Your hair is swimming around you, clinging to your bare shoulders. You exhale, brush water from your lashes, and inhale. You look... beautiful. A different sort of beautiful than he's used to. This sort of beauty is relaxed. Tired. You seem a bit freer than usual — unrestrained by the image you aim to keep well protected amongst the others. 

Kyojuro sinks a little deeper himself.

He's still watching you.

Your eyes find his. 

There's a moment where all you two can do is blink — Flame and Dream mingling for a breath beneath the stars. Wide eyes bound by a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation. He feels like all the breath has been swept from his lungs. All Kyojuro can do is stare into your eyes.

Then, he speaks.

Blurts, more aptly.

"You are beautiful."

...Did he just say that? 

Your lips part in quiet shock.

Suddenly, his posture is more rigid, and his expression a bit panicked — perhaps because your own eyes widen a mile at the words that spill from his mouth. Kyojuro raises his hands as he inhales sharply, the heat of the bath inching a degree hotter. Whether it's from the sudden admission or a misfire of his breathing technique, you're unsure. 

His cheeks are hot. He leans forward, shaking his head.

Damn you, Tengen. Damn you, damn you—

"I-I simply mean — you... You do not look like shit—" He attempts to explain.

"Oh—"

"Yes, yes, I—"

"Thank you," you say quickly, trying to calm your own racing heart as he swallows down a bought of embarrassment and offers a pained smile your way. It's enough to quell his panic.

"Of course," he breathes out, sagging a bit deeper into the water as he fiddles with his hands. He has a habit of rubbing at his callouses. Kyojuro swallows, then hoarsly admits: "One might think that I was drinking the sake with the way I'm making a fool of myself."

Your laugh is like a balm. 

"Hardly," you offer as you sink into the water with a smile; your eyes are glimmering with something a bit mischievous as you swim towards the water's edge. You pause, then slip a look his way over your bare shoulder, "...Do you mean it?"

"That I'm a fool? Of course."

You scoff quietly. Kyojuro's smile is tight — knowing. 

Then, he speaks warmly and kindly. He confirms your question with ease. His arms are wound across his chest. "You are truly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever had the grace to lay eyes upon, my Lady." 

Maybe you could drown yourself here. 

You're not entirely sure how you'll ever recover from this — not from how tender he says it, not from how honest his words sound. So suddenly you feel as though he's hung every star in the sky for your eyes only, having wished upon them, time and time again, for nothing more than a moment of your time. It's reverent is what it is.

You're about to open your mouth and say something when a bright, girlish giggle cuts through the tension—

Kyojuro Rengoku has never been more thankful for Mitsuri Kanroji's ill timing. Behind her is Lady Shinobu. 

The pink and green-haired Hashira is ecstatic to find both yourself and Rengoku in the hot spring — her delight is palpable as she waves her arms and cheers brightly into the air. Her crow caws overhead. Her darker-haired counterpart levels them both with polite smiles.

"Oh, this is just lovely! My friends!" she's chirping as she closes the gate, "I am so glad to see you both back safe and sound—"

"Heading my advice, it seems," Shinobu says slowly — almost like she knows something you don't. Her pale, lilac eyes flick between you and Rengoku. For a moment, you almost suspect she's about to ask something.

"How are you feeling?" Mitsuri cries in your direction, shrugging her kimono off with ease — unbothered entirely by Rengoku's presence. The two are like brother and sister, and Mitsuri has never batted an eye about nudity, "How are your ribs?"

Kyojuro levels you with a look. 

You offer a sheepish grin. 

"Yes," Shinobu mutters as she slips out of her geta, "Four broken ribs."

Kyojuro's nostrils flare. "You said nothing about the sort."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I told you I was sparing you the details."

Mitsuri's bright eyes dart between the two of you — a little bit of giddiness blooming at the sight of Kyojuro looking so worried about their fellow Dream Hashira. 

He slides a look towards Kocho. Then rolls his shoulders. With a sigh, he moves to stand, the water lapping at his waist. You decidedly find the edge of the onsen very interesting as you try to coach yourself through the overwhelming urge to stare. 

"I trust you'll monitor her condition, Kocho," he murmurs as he moves through the water; the words sit nicely in your heart and you feel a little pride swell at his indication that he cares if you're alright, "I'll let you ladies have some time amongst yourselves."

You catch his eyes for a second. A moment. A lingering little breath that mingles between you — like Kocho and Mitsuri aren't there. Then, he stepped from the bath and gathered his robe.

For now, the two of you will pretend earlier never happened.

For now.

Just a little thing between the two of you — and suddenly, you're not so cranky. Once the muse for exhaustion, you're now the muse of lovesickness. 

When the gate closes behind Kyojuro, Kocho speaks.

"...What was all that?"

Nevermind. The crankiness is back.

"Shut up."

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Old Faces

Summary: At seventeen, Dean fell hard for the girl in his high school English class. He never got a chance to make a move before he was on the road again. When he bumps into her working the same case as himself, he wants to know how her apple pie life got flipped upside down...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Enjoy!...

________________

“No Ding Dongs? Are you serious?” you said, standing up with a groan at the mini mart. 

“Sorry. I got the last of them,” said a voice that was vaguely familiar. You spun around, the stranger’s eyes going wide just as fast as yours. “Do I know you? You look so familiar.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he said with a big smile. “You grew up to be gorgeous. I would expect nothing less though from Mountainside’s head cheerleader.”

“Ah, we went to high school together,” you said, giving him a smile. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name.”

“I wouldn’t expect it. I was only there three weeks. Dean Winchester,” he said.

“The bad boy!” you said with a laugh. “I remember you. You dyed the football team’s pants pink on homecoming night.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t the most mature guy back then.”

“You past the bad boy ways?” you said.

“Mostly,” he said with a hand wave. “You live around here?”

“No. I’m just in town for work,” you said.

“Me too,” he said.

“Hey, what ever happened to you? You just left one day out of the blue,” you said.

“My dad had a different job somewhere else. It was pretty normal for us to move around a lot,” he said. 

“Too bad. The cheerleading squad talked about you all the time,” you said. “You would have had your pick of a girlfriend.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure the one I wanted wasn’t available,” he said, giving you a smile. He reached into his basket and pulled out the box of Ding Dongs, tossing them in yours. “Nice seeing you, Y/N.”

“You too, Dean.”

Later That Evening

“Drop it!” you shouted at the dark figure. It mumbled something but you saw a gun get lowered to the ground. The creature turned around but you went wide eyed for the second time that night.

“Y/N?” asked Dean, looking around before settling on you. “Wha...what are...”

“Fucking hell. You’re a hunter,” you said, lowering your gun, Dean dropping his hands. “It makes perfect sense now.”

“You hunt?” he asked.

“Well I-”

You woke up in a motel room, your head throbbing as you sat up, blinking at Dean and someone else.

“Sorry about the concussion. I thought you were the witch,” said the man.

“Nope. Not her,” you groaned, sighing as you tried to get to your feet.

“Take it easy,” said Dean, guiding you to stay on the bed. 

“Did you get the witch?” you asked.

“No,” said Dean. “Sam’s working another lead though. We think she might still be in town.”

“Good,” you said. 

“So you’re a hunter?” he asked.

“As I was saying before Paul Bunyan over there hit me, yes,” you said. “Been one for a while.”

“But you had such a perfect life,” said Dean. 

“Have you ever heard the phrase, keeping up appearances?” you asked. Dean looked over to Sam, both staring at their laps. “Of course. You grew up hunters. You knew how to pretend to be normal kids.”

“Did your parents hunt?” asked Dean. You scoffed and shook your head.

“When I was about thirteen, my parents went out on a date night. The things that came home were not my parents. If I played along and played house like everything was fine, they told me they’d let my parents go. They were demons. My parents died that night I’m pretty sure but I didn’t know any of that. I spent the next five years doing what they wanted, pretending everything was fine,” you said.

“What changed?” asked Dean.

“I found out about hunting, demons...I realized play time was over and I had to get out of there,” you said.

“And I thought we had a messed up childhood,” said Dean, running his hand through his hair.

“So...we teaming up on this witch thing or what?” you asked.

“Uh, sure,” said Dean, Sam nodding his head. “The more the merrier.”

“Sam,” you asked that night while Dean was busy grabbing some food from a fast food place. “Why does Dean keep staring at me?”

“Because you’re Y/N Y/L/N,” said Sam with a little laugh from the front seat of baby. “Dean had the biggest crush in the world on you. He wouldn’t shut up about you for three weeks straight.”

“He had a crush on me?” you asked. “Why?”

“Why does any teenage boy have a crush on the head cheerleader?” said Sam with an eye roll. “He probably thought you were cute.”

“He’s not like...obsessed or something,” you said, Sam immediately shaking his head.

“My guess is he’s just super surprised you turned out to be a hunter,” said Sam.

“Yeah. That’s probably it.”

“Well that went smoother than expected,” you said around midnight, slamming your trunk closed. 

“You should think about getting a partner. They come in handy,” said Dean. You nodded and went to climb in your car when Dean grunted. “Give us a second Sammy?”

“What’s up?” you asked, Dean waiting until Sam was tucked away in the Impala.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Back in high school. I could have helped. I could gotten my dad involved and-”

“I don’t know what you remember about high school but we weren’t friends,” you said.

“No but you did keep the football team from pounding me to death after the pants thing,” he said. 

“It was a harmless prank. I figured the new kid didn’t need to get beaten half to death,” you said.

“Yeah and I said thanks and you made some weird comment and I asked if you were okay and you gave another weird comment and then I never saw you again,” he said.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have gone talking about my demon parents to every kid I didn’t know on the off chance they could help,” you said, crossing your arms. 

“Well...I could have done something,” he said. 

“It wasn’t your problem. I dealt with it and it’s over,” you said.

“You didn’t make a deal, did you?” he asked.

“No. I handled it,” you said. “Is that what’s been eating you all night? You think you didn’t save me back then so you’re responsible?”

“I’m thinking if I had the guts to ask you out, I might have gone over to your house and seen the signs and saved you a lot of crap,” he said.

“Like I said, I handled it,” you said.

“You don’t have to be in this life you know,” he said.

“Neither do you,” you said.

“Yes I do.”

“Me too,” you said.

“Can I at least buy you a beer?” he asked.

“Took you long enough to ask,” you said with a small smile.

“Better late than never.”

______________

[thorsenmark]

Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Spring Storm (Black & White) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While on the main park road just beyond the Newfound Gap in the Tennessee portion of Great Smoky Mountains National Park. The setting is looking to the south up a nearby mountainside with evergreens and other types of trees present. A low cloud ceiling was present with clouds seemingly moving across the mountainside during that storm. While I was disappointed to not see the full grandeur of the mountains that day, I did like the idea of capturing clouds moving across the mountainside as it reminded me of images I’d seen with Ansel Adams in Yosemite Valley. Because of that idea, I decided to convert at least one of the images captured that day to Black & White. A conversion to black & white using Silver Efex Pro 7 where I made some adjustments to color filters to bring out a much richer tonal contrast for the final image.

[crimsonteaaddict]

Running from your mates

An expansion on my short blurb and character creation, content warnings‼️⚠️ dubc0n, brat behaviour, smut, Yandere werewolves? Mild yandere?

Previous thoughts here and here

Imagine trying to flee, deciding that morally no matter how nice the cabin is and the forest and how nice it is to not have to worry about anything, you did have to worry. You worried about everyone you left behind, everything you left behind, and because of that about a month after your snatching, a month of the werewolves trying to hold back to make you want them back, you grabbed what was left of your belongings that they didn’t burn, a hunting knife and a pair of too big boots belong to Kragen who was currently in the cellar doing something.

You weren’t exactly prepared to navigate your way out of the forest and as you opened the front door you slowly stepped out. You had smelt a town on Percy, it must not be far, no matter that he was a werewolf and you were not.

The second your foot hit the forest floor your heart beat cleared up enough for you to hear Kragen’s footsteps. Thunderous and as you turned back you saw him standing at the door hurt in his eyes, covered in blood likely from a hunt that he was cleaning.

He looked more hurt than upset and rather than lunging at you he snarled. You bolted. And you ran for longer than you ever have. You couldn’t tell how long or far, but you’d heard a howl sound out and you knew someone or something must be coming for you. Or at least that’s what you’d thought.

Not one of your boys chased you, Kragen may have been the only one home with you, but he let you run. They were yours whether or not you’d admit it, you just weren’t quite sure when you began to feel that way. Maybe it was when Grant had been cooking and you’d stepped in to help the Werewolf as he almost set the cabin on fire. Likely because his big hands weren’t nearly as precise as his tongue which you found yourself thinking would hit the mark perfectly. It could have been when you’d cut your finger while trying to help him cook and he’d chuff a teasing laugh at you receiving a glare from Kragen and a disapproving look from Percy. He had proceeded to put all the knives where you couldn’t reach them so you’d have to ask him for help, a weird gesture that led you to believe he might have made fun of you once but he didn’t want it happening again.

For Percy it may have been when you tossed and turned in the pelts and he nipped at your ear silently before slowly pulling himself and you out into the spare rooms where he’d grabbed a pair of reading glasses and read a book to you. You’d fallen asleep in his soft fur that day.

Maybe Kragen became yours when he’d come stomping into the house in a rage a wilted flower in his hand soon discarded on the kitchen counter before later admitting to you that he’d gotten into a fight and had been unable to keep the flowers safe for you mumbling about how he was a terrible mate.

While you couldn’t place the when, exactly, you felt obligated, I’d be wrong to stay, to want to be with them. You’d hurt Kragen by leaving and yet none of your boys had come for you. You ran through the forest slowing to a jog then a walk, and not one of them chased after you. Did they just take you to eventually try and breed you? They hadn’t actually told you. They hadn’t ever explained over the last month, said you were theirs, there mate—okay maybe they explained a little, but accepting that you’d left not because you actually missed anyone but because you were scared of falling for them was too hard for you.

Your spiraling continued tree after tree, step after step until you somehow ended up at a road after what must have been hours of walking. Your feet were blistered and you continued on, down the road until you found a sign to point you in the right direction. A small mountainside village wasn’t far. You headed that way, forgetting about the White furred Werewolf and his rather impressive reading, the things he’d bring back to the cabin. They hadn’t caught you, and now all you had to do was call for help, find someone to help you call for help, or a police officer if they even had those here. Once you made it into the village of course.

You found the welcome sign and soon the road had shifted to cobblestone, the main road. It was a bustling place, not where you’d parked your car for the nature hike, but if you’d know this was here you’d have visited. Upon seeing you the people hurried off whispering with one another. You supposed you must have been disheveled but headed for the first store. As you approached you watched a young woman lock the door and flip the sign to closed, regret in her eyes. You took a step back wards feeling a hard chest crash into your back and a rumble sound in your ear. A gentle clawed hand moved to your jaw and another to your waist as the massive warm body pressed against you.

“Good littles mates don’t run you know” he drew out his tone flat but you could imagine the excitement in his eyes, only because of the scent wrapping around you. “I wasn’t—“ you gave up on that lie as quickly as you started it. You felt him let out a breath of amusement on the shell of your ear.

“Don’t lie to me little one, it’s clear to me why you’d come here,” You looked up and tilted your head causing him to rise tower over you looking down to meet your gaze. Percy flashed his teeth at you and you bristled a little. “You like the chase.” He added two of his fingers walking up your side teasingly.

You turned not backing down and barked “Oh, fuck off!” Pushing on his chest for him to not move an inch for a second or two before playing along and ‘stumbling back’.

You should have been smarter than to think he was off hunting, no he was off doing whatever it was he did here. Kragen was so hurt that rather than sparing you Percy’s wrath, he’d let you find out yourself. “You know that’s not—“ You said in realization at what you’d just initiated, Percy always was the real brat tamer between him and Grant but you’d never tell Grant that.

He held a hand up before he let one finger fall, then two, and you bolted. You could have sworn the second the countdown was done you were being tackled into the brush and rolling around with a massive werewolf.

A wet hot tongue ran up your neck and you squealed before your eyes connected with his. Percy’s pupils had completely dilated and the play was gone. You didn’t get a chance to saying anything before there was a piercing pain in your neck and a lapping to stop the blood. “Should’ve claimed you before this happened” and other such apologies whispered around you as the world came in and out of darkness.

By the time you were conscious again you were back at the house and you somehow felt relief. Until you saw the face of Kragen filled with anger and regret and the nothing in Grant's eyes as they looked down at you and the werewolf happily nude and dozing behind you.

“Explain. Now.” Kragen roared, not sure if he was speaking to you about your escape or his pack mate you waited a moment.

“I can’t just leave my family and friends!” You cried receiving a scoff from Grant. You think you interpreted the question right but couldn’t really focus as Percy began sleepily grinding into your ass. They didn’t get what you were saying, granted it was a lie you’d been telling yourself since you’d decided to run. The two you were trying to convince didn’t go into the village like Percy did. They weren’t versed in how non-pack relations worked.

“Cute little liar” Grant cooed leaning down to gently poke your nose causing you to snap forward at it and a loud groan to be pulled from the monster behind you. He grimaced a little. “Might not want to wake him, once you do he won’t stop until he thinks he’s out pups in you.” Grant mused patting his own stomach almost in memory.

“We should have bonded and mated properly already.” Kragen finally said, cutting off the torture that was Grant. “So we could have done this properly.”

Imagine trying to reject them like you had that first day only for Kragen to argue with you. He argued nothing mattered as much as mates. He said that they’d tried to give you time to adjust to needing them like they needed you. You’d scoffed at him, to his face. As if you weren’t currently on the bedding of three monsters. You’d watched him tense his claws ripping into the wood of the arm chair.

“A monster with morals is just a man” Percy quipped groggily something massive rubbing between your legs and you whimpered shrinking back into him. Apparently you’d noted the three monsters part out loud to yourself. Shit. “But…” Percy added halting “We can show you monsters, mate.” The tearing of fabric and rubbing of precum was all the mercy you got before he punctuated his sentence with a hard thrust.

Some traitorous part of you tensed at that, THAT traitorous part of you rather liked feeling him in you, around you, the eyes watching.

An expletive left the largest wolf’s mouth as he watched before he was reaching over and pulling Grants chair across the hearth. Between the thrusts you could almost focus on the show the other two put on for you.

That night was the start of a very happy mating and you almost didn’t regret running one bit. Not when you woke up with a fully belly and three bite marks on your neck.

[saintsanddevils]

Never Alone - pt 4

Aaric Graycastle x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s time for Threshing! You and Aaric are separated and try to find a way back to each other. If you can stay alive.

Warnings: very graphic violence, blood, swearing, dragons being dragons, yearning, idiots in love

Author’s Note: part 5 might be turning up the heat for this slowly burning slow-burn👀

Word Count: 5.3K

Part Three | Part Five

————

-Threshing-

(Aaric POV)

The sharp blade of a dagger hovers inches from Aaric’s throat. Any closer, and the edge would cut open his artery, making him bleed out all over the forest floor.

With heaving breaths, he meets the eye of the enraged cadet. Snarling, the first-year tries to press in, throwing his weight, but once his eyes snap to his knife, Aaric takes his shot. He throws his elbow into his opponent’s gut, before leaning forward and biting his fingers. He coughs a yell, dropping the dagger on instinct. Aaric doesn’t waste time. He throws every ounce of strength into tackling the cadet to the dirt. The stolen dagger slides into his grip as he quickly slices the man’s throat.

Blood sprays, and Aaric dives out of its path. The man’s hands come up to stop the bleeding, but it’s too late. He heaves and chokes, flailing, before his body suddenly stills.

He’s dead within seconds.

Aaric stares at the body for a moment before glancing down at the blood-covered blade. He recalls Y/N’s words from this morning. “Threshing will be a breeze.”

He scoffs, wiping the dagger off the dead cadet’s trousers to clean it. He recalls the rattled smile she gave him before reluctantly walking away. He knew she was trying to be positive, even though she was obviously worried and afraid. Aaric felt the same, but not for himself.

That’s why he has to find her. Immediately. He has to make sure she’s okay, that she’s alive.

Looking up at the golden leaves of the trees, he takes a deep, steadying breath.

She’s alive. She can take care of herself. She’ll bond a dragon.

Aaric chants this over and over in his mind as he scales down the forest mountainside towards the valley. Distant roars echo through the trees as he treads carefully.

A sudden feminine scream that’s immediately cut off causes him to freeze. It was close by.

It’s not her, it’s not her, it’s not her.

The chant carries him through scaling across boulders, one eye on the sky as he tries to take cover under a tree. The grumble of a dragon shakes the ground he’s standing on before he sees a flash of red.

Shit.

For years, Aaric has been gifted the best education by highly acclaimed tutors. Part of that education was studying everything their kingdom knew about dragons. What he knew about Red dragons: if you find yourself cornered by one? You’re already dead.

Red scales gleam in the sunlight. Smoke fills the air as Aaric catches sight of a charred body in cinders lying in the dirt. He takes quick notice that the body is far too short to be Y/N. It emboldens him, but he keeps an eye on the Red as it breathes deeply, snarling.

By the luck of the gods, the dragon hasn’t noticed him yet. He stands near the dragon’s tail, which he notices slithers through the leaves, nearing him. With all the calm he can muster, he slowly backs away, inch by inch, to not draw the dragon’s attention.

Another distant roar suddenly echoes through the valley. But this time, it comes from behind Aaric. He curses every god he can name when the Red’s head swivels to look right at him.

The gleam in its gold eyes, where scars abound its hide, looks entirely too murderous for Aaric’s liking. He stills to appear less threatening, but it’s too late. The Red’s eyes narrow on the bloody dagger in the prince’s hands.

Fuck.

Aaric has seconds to dive out of the way before a stream of fire consumes the tree he was standing in front of. The fire follows him as he runs as fast as he can down the mountain, sliding through mud and leaves. He keeps his footing and just as the dragon’s fire stops, he ducks behind a boulder. He hears its growl as it prowls forward, toying with him.

If this is supposed to be a breeze, like Y/N said, it’s quickly turning into a cyclone.

Panic tries to choke him, but he uses her method of counting backwards from 100 to keep calm and stay centered. If he can’t focus and stay present, he’s dead.

A flash of black in his peripheral is what saves him from being this Red’s next meal. Three cadets stumble upon the scene, enraging the Red further and drawing his attention. Fire singes the air once more, but far from where Aaric hides. He doesn’t waste a second before bolting through the trees.

Where are you?!

Panting, he pumps himself faster. He sees the rise of a cliff up ahead and knows that he can get a good vantage point of the whole valley from there. He could try and see if Y/N is anywhere near him. If not, he’ll assume she’s on the other side. Being on that cliff would leave him entirely exposed to any dragons flying overhead that think he’s better as a snack than someone to bond with.

It’s a risk he’s worth taking for her.

Once Aaric stands on the edge of the stone cliff, he scans the horizon. He sees smoke and wings darting through the trees to the west. A river cuts through the mountains to the east. Basgiath’s towers can be seen to the north.

With a quick surveying of his surrounding area, he knows Y/N isn’t nearby. That seed of hope that was guiding him slowly dies.

What if I find her and it’s too late?

Flashes of the nightmares that plague him nightly flash to the forefront of his mind. Her lifeless eyes trained on him, haunting him for the rest of his life.

A chill slides down his spine.

Aaric and Y/N have known each other for most of their lives. He’s spent every birthday, for as long as he can remember, with her. If this is how she dies because of him, he’ll never forgive himself. They’ve both come too far for this to be their end.

Withering dread slowly fills him to the brim. He can’t imagine life without her. A day without her laughter, her charm, her threats, her smiles, is a day not worth living.

If she dies, she’ll never know that I—

Something large and sapphire-hued streaks through his vision, cutting off everything he can see before he finds himself staring up at very large golden eyes trained entirely on him.

The dragon assesses the prince before landing in front of him, sending Aaric scrambling backwards. He stares up at the looming dragon, fear and apprehension coursing through him. But the previous emotions of panic and worry from earlier echo through him in sudden shades of rage.

Y/N is out there, and he has to find her. He’s going to find her. She’s alive. And if the only way through this damn valley is to fight every dragon he can find to get to her? So be it.

He grips the dagger in his hand, standing his ground. A pregnant pause weighs heavily between them before the dragon throws back its head. With a deafening roar, the Blue levels their head to look Aaric directly in the eye.

“I have been looking for you.”

Aaric’s stomach drops as a deep, gruff voice rings through his mind. The golden eyes of the Blue Clubtail narrow on the dagger.

“Do you wish to kill me, Camlaen Aaric Tauri?” A wave of sulfuric breath washes over the prince. The dragon’s slitted eye contracts as a grumble fills his chest, resembling thunder. “I must warn you, if you try, your mate will surely die.”

—————

(Reader POV)

I’m going to die.

The thought echoes in my bones as fire singes at the heels of my boots. My feet pound through dirt and leaves as I race through the forest.

The Orange Scorpiontail is gaining on me, and the burning trees aren’t helpful as ash and embers rain down from their limbs. I duck and roll beneath a falling branch as the Orange roars loud enough to startle me. I lose my footing and stumble, sending myself sprawling to the ground. Mud cakes itself all over my leathers as I roll to a stop.

Taking quick stock of my limbs to ensure nothing is burned or broken, I stare up at the sky.

Holy shit, I’m alive.

I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. Once I establish only a few bruises and aching ankles, I glance over to see the other cadet who crossed my path just before the dragon showed up. She’s sprinting towards a boulder when a scaled jaw, full of sharp teeth as long as my arm, clamps down on her leg and drags her, screaming. I take my chances, hoping this will distract the Orange, and haul myself out of the dirt.

Smoke covers me as I bolt through the trees. I run as far and as fast as I can, putting as much distance between me and the Orange.

Crashing through bushes and twigs, I hurl myself out of the woods at the sound of rushing water. A river cuts through the forest, sparkling in the sunlight.

I catch my breath, relief washing through me when I notice no one is around. The Orange didn’t follow me.

Looking to the sky, I take stock of what I can see. Mountains line the valley where wings tumble through trees and various dragons fly in circles. I didn’t realize bonding a dragon would be so difficult.

Late last night, Aaric had snuck out of the men’s dorms to meet me. We stole away to an alcove with a window overlooking this very valley I’m standing in now. Aaric’s face was tense with concern and worry. We both knew we wouldn’t be together during Threshing. It made everything harder, but we had to trust we would stay alive.

I close my eyes, letting the wind caress my face in the brief stillness.

He’s alive. He’s too stubborn and arrogant to die.

Aaric remained the top of the class for the last month, whether that be in academics or training. It’s not hard to guess he’s breathing and probably already bonded.

I swear to Malek if he’s bonded before me, I’ll—

A dagger whistles by, inches from my face, before embedding itself into the trunk of the tree I’m standing next to. Heart in my throat, I whirl to see two broad cadets standing in the trees. It’s plain to see the murderous intent on their faces as they asses me.

I don’t turn my back on them as I begin to walk backwards towards the river’s edge.

“Looks like we caught ourselves a mouse,” the one with a large, imposing nose drawls.

The other smiles, cold and menacing. Old burn scars cover the left side of his face, making him look even more threatening. “Let’s catch it,” he snarls.

Big Nose darts forward, daggers in hand. I reach behind, finding my throwing knives strapped tightly to my waist. With the flick of a wrist, two blades sail through the air. Big Nose dives out of the way, but the Burned Guy shouts in pain.

“You bitch!” The knife sticks out of his upper thigh. His eyes burning with hate as he limps forward, blood seeping through his pant leg.

“Careful,” I smirk. “The next one will castrate you.”

This mouse has sharp teeth.

Big Nose bounds towards me, trying to tackle me to the ground, but I maneuver out of his reach, backing onto the rocks lining the river. My hands brace my knives in my grip as I try to keep both cadets in sight.

As if he’s reading my mind, Big Nose whistles low to Burned Guy. They take either side of me, forcing me to choose. Burned Guy is injured, his limping growing more severe as he gets closer. He’s not much of a threat. Big Nose, however, with his daggers extended, is more intimidating.

Choice made, I face Big Nose fully just as I throw a blade towards Burned Guy. I hear him swear just as Big Nose aims to punch me in the face. I swerve before slashing at his chest, hard enough for the leather to give beneath the blade to draw blood.

Big Nose hisses before barreling towards me. I dive between his legs, tripping him with my foot as I go. Just as I turn to watch him fall into the rocks head-first, pain rackets up my skull as someone yanks my hair. I gasp in pain as I’m dragged backwards.

“Two against one,” Burned Guy huffs. “Stop fucking around and die already.”

Using my hair, he turns my face to look up at his, blood trickling from his injured leg and arm. I smile at the sight of my knives sticking into him like a pin cushion. Too bad he’ll have to deal with one more.

With every ounce of strength I possess, the throwing knife already gripped in my palm slams to the hilt into his crotch.

The scream Burned Guy unleashes is hair-raising. He lets me go as he falls to the rocks, crying and panting. His screams are blood-curdling as my knife’s grip sticks out of his pants right where his dick is.

“Told ya I’d castrate you,” I wink.

One down, one to go.

As soon as I look away, I’m caught around my middle by two large arms and thrown to the ground. The air is knocked out of me, causing me to wheeze as sharp rocks dig into my back. Big Nose holds his arm to my throat, crushing my windpipe. His body pins me to the ground.

Spots fill my vision as I scramble to punch him in the ribs, kick him in the groin, the leg, anything. He doesn’t budge. He only holds me more with his full weight, not holding back like Aaric does on the mat.

Panic begins to grip me as I try to reach for a knife, only to find the holster empty.

“Out of toys, bitch?” Big Nose spits in my face. His other hand grips my arm, pressing it into the sharp rocks before skin begins to break.

“You didn’t have to fight like that, ya know,” he huffs. “We would’ve taken care of ya. Made it quick. Besides,” he leans closer, my head swimming from lack of oxygen. “I’ve always loved a woman on her back.”

A shriek dies in my throat as he shifts his weight, pinning me to grab something I can’t see. The dagger gleams in the sun as he holds it flat against my cheek.

“You’re pretty,” he smirks. “Not pretty enough to live.”

A sudden roar echoes through the air, startling the cadet on top of me. His attention is briefly torn from me, and I take my shot. I bite his arm as hard as I can before the skin splits and blood rushes into my mouth. Big Nose hollers, bucking off of me, but I’ve already reached for his loosened grip on his knife. I tear it from his hand and throw my weight into tackling him to the rocks, pinning him as I thrust the dagger downward, straight into his eye socket.

Blood sprays from the wound, pooling into the soaked rocks beneath. He screams and thrashes as I rip it back out before plunging it into his throat, opening his artery and cracking the bone of his spine.

He’s dead instantly.

Sharp air slices my lungs like knives as my fingers let go of the pommel. I slide from his body, heaving.

The spots in my vision have begun to fade, and the flow of oxygen in my lungs slowly steadies me. The smell of autumn leaves and wet stone grounds me before I remember the roar from earlier.

A Red Daggertail, with scars covering the entirety of its scales, prowls towards me. Its tongue licks the air like a serpent, tasting the scent of blood.

I’m so fucked.

My heart stops as I freeze on the riverbank. I stare at the golden eyes, wondering if I’m supposed to be feeling something apart from fear. Is this dragon debating between bonding with me or eating me?

A snarl fills the silence as its lips curl, revealing sharp teeth that could crack me in half. It definitely wants to eat me.

Just as I try to move backwards, it lunges.

Another roar cracks the air, but this time, from behind me. I don’t take my eyes off the imminent threat as the dragon stops just before me, eyes snapped up to what is surely another dragon behind me.

I find myself caught between two dragons and I pray to every god there is that this isn’t the Orange Scorpiontail from earlier.

Sulfuric breaths heave behind me, shifting my hair. I freeze on the rocks, hoping the two dragons don’t notice me.

When the Red’s burning eyes snap to mine, I know I’m dead.

I’m so very, very fucked.

The Red darts forward, widening its jaws as it dives for me. In a blink, the dragon behind me rushes in, massive jaw clamping around the Red’s exposed throat and tearing it open. The dragon’s blood sprays the air, masking the world in a brief kaleidoscope of crimson.

The dragon behind me gleams like emeralds as it rips the hide of the Red and cracks the bones of its neck. The fight is over in a minute, and I sit there, dumbfounded and terrified, as the Red’s body slumps into the stream. Blood trickles from its torn neck, turning the crystal water red.

My breaths come out shallow and rough, jackhammering through me as I stare in shock at the dead dragon.

Holy shit, I just watched a dragon kill another dragon.

The ground rumbles like an earthquake as the Green dragon that’s hovering above me roars into the sky. When it’s done, the dragon huffs steam into the dead face of the Red before snapping its attention to me.

“Krik wanted to make you his next meal. I could not allow that to happen.”

The voice that carries into my mind is feminine. It’s soft as the wind and thunderous as a storm. Her eyes are a deep gold, like all dragons, but there’s a ring of green tinted silver around the slitted iris.

I stare in both wonder and bone-rattling fear as she moves her body closer to me.

“Do not be afraid, Y/N Y/L/N. It does not become you.”

I huff an incredulous laugh, but it’s cut off by the sounds of branches snapping. I twist to see the Orange Daggertail from earlier, snarling and kicking at the dirt as it emerges from the tree line.

And it looks pissed.

The Green (I glance to the tail of the dragon that just fucking talked to me as if that was completely normal) Swordtail stands tall, raising her head as she settles herself above me. Almost like she’s… claiming me.

They’re definitely communicating to one another as snarls and growls fill the space between them. The Orange begins to look more and more hostile, maybe even a bit rabid with blood soaking its teeth. I quickly get to my feet, backing into the Green since she saved my life already. She might do it again.

The leaves of the trees rustle and the branches bend as the wind picks up. My hair whips in my face just as a large shadow soars above before landing between the Orange and the Green. Shimmering sapphire scales that end with a tail in the shape of a club sit before me and the Green. A Blue Clubtail. And it’s the biggest dragon I’ve ever seen. It’s stunning.

The Green Swordtail isn’t happy to see whoever this is, that much is obvious. She snarls and bends forward to flash her teeth at the Blue. The Blue whips around as if chastising the Green.

I look up at my dragon. “Is he a threat too?”

The Green huffs. “One of the most stubborn, territorial, protective, and dangerous males in the Empyrean.”

I nod. “So, you’re not on good terms, I take it?”

“He interferes to protect us.”

I furrow my brows. Why would he do that?

As if in answer to my question, a cadet slides down the leg of the Blue dragon with ease. As if he’s done this a hundred times. Sandy-brown hair whips in the wind as he races towards me.

My heart pounds in my chest erratically at the sight. Aaric.

Unbidden, tears spring to my eyes as he rushes to me. I take quick stock of his body, noticing only a few cuts and fresh-blooming bruises before he tackles me into a hug. I laugh into the embrace, a tear falling down my cheek as he holds me.

The embrace is so familiar that it brings me back to every moment I’ve ever held him. Every breath, laugh, and smile I’ve shared with him.

He’s here. He’s alive. I’m alive.

I grip him like my life depends on it, gasping a sob into his shoulder. I don’t even care if dragons surround us, not even if this Orange attacks us while we hold one another. Nothing matters but Aaric.

I can feel his arms touching me in various places to ensure I’m all here. That I’m whole and uninjured. I smile before a blush rushes to my cheeks when his hands find purchase low on my hips.

“Are you alright?” He says into my ear. “Molvic warned me you’d be dead if-“

I pull back, smiling at him. “Molvic? You bonded?”

He nods, looking over his shoulder at the Blue Clubtail. Molvic. “He found me.”

Like she found me.

Molvic growls again, this time, raising his body to stand over the Orange in an obvious play for dominance. I notice the Green above me shake her head as if she’s rolling her eyes at him.

The Orange cowers before snarling again, lunging forward and snapping its teeth. The Green snaps back, but Molvic intervenes and cuts the Orange off.

Aaric shifts me further behind him as he turns to face the scene. I gasp as Molvic snaps his teeth inches from the Orange’s throat. He roars in its face, loud enough to make both Aaric and I cover our ears. The Orange finally relents before readying its wings and taking off into the sky.

Aaric’s tight grip slackens as the Orange fades from view and we’re left with Molvic and the Green.

“Did he just save us?” I question aloud.

“His involvement makes me look weak,” the Green snarls in my head. “I can protect my own.”

“We flew over as fast as we could,” Aaric turns back to me, only now noticing the blood staining my chin. His fingers automatically touch the skin, sending a jolt of awareness through me. “What the hell? Are you okay?”

I shrug. “It’s not mine.”

Aaric raises a brow before surveying the area around us, catching sight of the two dead cadets and the blood soaking the ground. “What happened?”

“They cornered me, followed me, maybe they were even hunting me,” I shrug before bending down to retrieve one of my fallen knives. “Either way, they’re dead and I’m alive.”

Aaric stares at me. “Obviously.”

His gaze finds the knife embedded into the crotch of Burned Guy’s dead body, and his eyes go comically large. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

“The prick deserved it for pulling my hair. I even warned him that would happen.” I nod to the other dead cadet. “Big Nose was harder to take down.”

Aaric whips around to me. “Big Nose?”

“Didn’t really have time to ask for his name while he tried to slit my throat, you know?”

Aaric tenses, his eyes honing in on my exposed neck. “Did he hurt you?”

I step closer to reach for his tightly closed fist. I smooth my fingers over his skin until he finally opens his and wraps them around mine.

I won’t ever lie to him. “Yes, he did. They both did.”

Aaric’s posture is rigid from the confession. If the cadets weren’t already dead, they’d be slaughtered by now. By his hand. The overprotective bastard.

“Did they suffer?”

I smile, squeezing his hand. “You bet.”

He relaxes slightly. “Good.”

The snarling of the dragons behind us has us turning to look at them. Whatever conversation they’re having is not going well.

“You think your dragon is going to kill mine?” Aaric whispers under his breath.

I shake my head, warmth spreading through me as he claims the Green as mine. “She’ll kick his ass, just like I can kick yours.”

That makes Aaric smirk. “Try taking me on tomorrow, and we’ll see about that.”

The snapping and gnashing of teeth have us tensing as the Green whips her tail around to face away from the Blue. Molvic closes his eyes as if he’s frustrated.

“Guess our dragons aren’t friends,” I whisper.

“Molvic and I can hear you,” the dragon hisses in my mind. I startle at her clipped tone. “Also, I have a name. I am Kesilarryium, Sword of the Realm. Not “the Green” as you keep calling me.”

A chill runs down my spine from her full name, just as warmth rushes to my cheeks in embarrassment. Nothing like being called out by your own bonded dragon.

I try to attempt her name in my mind, but she stops me.

“Call me Kesi.”

A strange, overwhelming sense of rightness fills me, as if her name and our bond are something I’ve been missing for years. I feel found, whole.

“As do I,” her tone is softer now as her large eyes snap to mine. “And to be clear, Molvic and I are not friends,” she sneers at the Blue who bows his head in submission as she flashes her teeth.

“We are mates.”

————

By the skin of my teeth, we make it to the flight field. I’m shocked I’m still breathing when Kesi lands. My teeth rattle in my skull from the force. I breathe deeply, staring out at the other dragons on the field. My fingers are raw and bleeding from holding onto her scales for dear life. The mud on my leathers is now fully dry and begins to crack as I maneuver myself off Kesi’s back. I practically fall from her leg before landing on my feet in the grass.

“We will have to work on your dismounting to ensure you do not break your neck.”

I wince. I guess it looked worse than I thought.

I catch sight of Molvic soaring overhead before landing next to Kesi with his wings fully extended. It looks like Kesi rolls her eyes as she shifts away from him. Molvic huffs, steam billowing from his nostrils as he stares at her in annoyance.

If I didn’t know they were mates, I’d assume they hate each other.

Mates. The word echoes in my head like a church bell. They’re rare and unheard of nowadays. The only mates I’ve heard of are Violet’s and Xaden Riorson’s dragons. At least Aaric and I are in the same year, so it won’t be difficult to deal with a mating bond.

Kesi growls low at Molvic, who huffs smoke in her face.

Oh gods, if they keep this up, they’re going to prove me wrong.

Aaric comes into view on Molvic’s shoulder before he slides down his dragon’s front leg and lands gracefully, to my utter annoyance.

“Of course you’re a natural at this,” I shake my head.

Aaric gives me a cocky grin as he comes to stand with me. “Jealous?”

I give him a sly smirk. “Why should I be jealous of a royal know-it-all?”

“Just admit it,” he winks. “I’m good at everything.”

I roll my eyes. “Not everything.”

His eyes slide to my mouth, causing my breath to get caught in my throat. ”Care to find out?”

Holy shit.

My pulse is racing as Aaric takes a step closer. I’m very, very, aware of every single part of him as his fingers come up to move a strand of loose hair out of my face.

“I was terrified I wouldn’t make it in time,” he whispers. “Molvic was super cryptic and made it seem like you were close to dying and—“ he visibly swallows, my eyes tracking the movement. “I couldn’t stand the idea of it.”

My eyes slowly meet his. “Of what?”

His green eyes are dark and enticing as he breathes out, “Losing you.”

His hand reaches up, sliding across my cheek. From months of hard training, his skin is calloused. It’s rough and warm against my skin, but comforting all the same.

I lean into him, gazing up through my lashes. “I thought I’d lose you too.”

The confession hangs heavy between us as we stare. As if gravity pulls us together, my face lies inches from his. Any closer and my lips would be—

“Uh, are your dragons alright?”

The voice startles us, springing us apart. I look over to see Sloane staring up at Kesi and Molvic, oblivious to what she just interrupted.

I can’t even meet Aaric’s eyes as warmth floods me. Gods, did we almost just—?

“We think they’re fighting,” Aaric coughs out, his voice strange and thick. “They’re mates.”

Sloane’s eyes are huge as she looks at the both of us. “Mates?! Holy shit.”

I nod, my cheeks still flaming, but I press on, still not looking at Aaric. “Yeah, it was a surprise to us, too.”

She looks between us for a moment before a smile curves her lips. “Honestly? Makes sense this would happen to you two.”

I tense. “What?”

Just before she answers, Rhiannon Matthias calls all the first-year cadets to attention, motioning over to the Scribe table where they’ll record our bonded dragons’ names. I catch sight of Violet standing next to her, who’s beaming at me. I smile back.

Aaric is at my side again, this time looking flustered. He won’t meet my eyes as he nods to the end of the field. “Guess we should—“

“Yeah,” I rush, interrupting him awkwardly.

Silence blankets us for a moment before Aaric begins walking ahead of me, his fists tight and shoulders bunched. I wonder why he’s so uptight.

“Your mate is frustrated he did not get the chance to kiss you.”

I startle, whirling to stare up at Kesi in bewilderment. My what?!

If dragons had eyebrows, she’d surely be raising hers at me. “Your mate. Your partner. Your lover. Whatever you humans like to call your significant others.”

I trip over my boots, catching myself before I fall into the dirt. Aaric?! He’s not my mate! He-he’s my best friend.

Kesi just stares at me. “The prince tried to kiss you.”

I shake my head. No, he didn’t. Nothing happened.

“You are in denial. Lying to yourself does you no favors, Y/N.”

I balk.

“Molvic agrees.”

I glare up at her. Don’t you dare give me relationship advice when you clearly are having issues with your own mate.

“So you agree, the prince is your mate?”

No!

I stomp away from her, frustration wracking up my spine as I find Aaric in the crowd of cadets lined before the waiting Scribes. His brows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched as if he, too, seems to be arguing with Molvic like I was with Kesi.

When his eyes meet mine, my stomach drops. I truly think I’m imagining the longing shining in his eyes. The obvious regret of something I wish I understood.

I tear my gaze away, panting. If my feelings for Aaric were complicated before, now it’s worse with two nosey dragons in our business.

We’re friends.

Friends.

I keep chanting it to myself to keep the doubt at bay. I’ve had years to keep my feelings hidden, ensuring Aaric never knows how I feel about him. It’s better if I get a grip on myself before it leads to eventual heartbreak.

We’re just friends. Right?

————

• moodboard of Kesi & Molvic below •

the fanart of Aaric is by etherealbookart, all other images are from Pinterest

Taglist: @bookishnerd1132 @abysshaven

@annthepenguin

‼️anyone can be added to the taglist so please let me know if you want to be tagged in the future

[deepspacenova]

A DRAGON'S SACRIFICE

2000 words | missing scene. dragon sylus. light-hearted. sort of fluff.

Beyond Cloudfall [Deleted Scene]: In which we experience the trials and tribulations of a frustrated dragon and a snobby mountain cat and how, exactly, that cat came to find the Sorceress of Ivory City.

Note: Dragon!Sylus lives to keep his chokehold on me another day! Haven’t been able to get this out of my head since (like MC) I realized Sylus went on a whole ass adventure to make her feel better with a cat. Full of self-indulgence and an out-of-his-depth Sylus. Hope you enjoy xx

The Dragon stood at the mouth of his cavernous home, gazing out at the rain-soaked city below with a stoic frown. The glowing embers of its citizens’ hearths twinkled in the distance, mocking him with their warmth. The scenery was almost peaceful—a true testament to how unbothered Tarus City was by the Legion’s mindless warpath. He didn’t know whether it was admirable or just another example of mortal stupidity. 

Behind him, a disturbing silence clung to the rocky walls of the cave. The scent of the sorceress — which seemed to have nestled itself inconveniently into every crevice of his supernatural senses — marked her location atop a stone platform. 

Though she toggled between the top of the cave she’d almost hurled herself over the other day — the sharp feeling in his gut from the incident, most likely irritation, had only just dissipated — and the platform, her silhouette remained the same. Knees drawn to her chest, blankly staring into space. He shifted uncomfortably, obsidian horns lightly scraping against the cave’s jagged overhang. 

She wasn’t crying, he knew. She never cried, though he almost wished she would. That would’ve made it easier for him to write her behavior off as nothing more than some human hysterics.

Instead, she exuded a quiet, crushing sorrow that weighed more heavily on his conscience than he cared to admit. She’d been like this for days.

Despite the world’s insistence of his monstrosity, of his evil nature, the dragon didn’t innately enjoy her despair. In fact, she was weighing down the elation he should’ve been feeling over his long-awaited freedom. Shackle-less, far from the abyss, pillaging nearby towns. This should be a happy occasion for him, by the gods, and she was ruining it.

He’d already tried tributes. In his experience, mortals liked trinkets. The greed in their eyes when they gazed upon gold and jewels almost always overtook any other emotion. He grimaced as he recalled yet another way she defied those expectations the past few days, picturing those empty eyes glazing over further at the sight of his offerings.

The dragon sighed. He loathed how her sadness clawed at him, a grating reminder of the humanity he’d long since tried to bury. But she treated him... differently. This fragile, stubborn human. 

Not as a man. Not even as a monster or a dragon. When she spit her version of fire at him, she looked at him as though he were something else entirely. Harmless, unremarkable, and, well, a nuisance. 

It infuriated him, and yet he’d never been regarded with such… normalcy.

He rubbed the back of his neck, claws clicking softly against his scales. He needed to do something. Her melancholy was suffocating.

He unfurled his wings, the membrane stretching taut against the sharp gusts of wind that coiled around the mountain peak. With a powerful leap, he launched himself from the ledge, the force kicking up loose pebbles that scattered down the mountainside. The air whipped past him as he angled his descent toward the copse of trees clinging to the slope below. 

The treetops swayed gently beneath his shadow as he descended and folded his wings tightly against his back. He strolled the area as his irritation bled into a sense of purpose.

“What does a human even want?” he muttered to himself. 

As if in answer, a faint yowl drifted up from the distance. The dragon froze, senses on alert. Peering down the incline of the small forest, he spotted a small, shadowy figure weaving through the underbrush. A scruffy little thing, it had lowered onto its haunches, tail flicking as it hunted for something amidst the tall bushes.

A mountain cat. 

He snorted at the absurdity of the creature’s arrogance. The cat was lean and scrappy, its fur sticking out in untamed tufts. It was prowling around with single-minded determination, oblivious to the real predator watching it from above. 

“A creature as insufferably small and contrary as she is,” he scoffed. Then again… 

The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. Perhaps this... thing would do.

The thought of those despondent eyes brightening even slightly steeled his resolve. 

Without another word, the dragon unfurled his wings and took flight, gliding effortlessly through the trees, just high enough to keep his approach silent. The soft crunch of underbrush and a flicker of the cat’s ears were the only signs of his arrival.

He stood motionless as the creature turned its curious yellow eyes toward him, fighting offense when it flicked its attention back to its prey, completely unbothered. 

“Right,” the dragon said, crossing his arms. “You’ll come with me willingly, or I’ll drag you by your tail. Either way, your new destiny is to be a gift.”

Abandoning its prey, the cat sat up at the sound of his voice. Finally, some self-preservation in the face of his intimidating presence. 

”So? What’ll it be, little beast?”

The cat blinked at him and then licked its paw, clearly unimpressed. The dragon narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t mistake this for a negotiation, now.” He crouched low, his tail coiling behind him. “I am Stayrus the Fiend. My name alone strikes fear into the hearts of—”

The cat darted away before he could finish, slipping into the underbrush with a small chirp. Growling in indignation, the dragon lurched forward, His wings folded against his back as he pursued, claws tearing through leaves and brambles in his path as the chase began.

It became quite apparent, however, that his dragon-like physique was more well-suited for widespread destruction rather than stealth. His horns snagged on low-hanging branches, his claws caught on roots, and his tail kept dragging in the soft earth, leaving deep gouges in his wake. 

The infernal creature, meanwhile, moved like smoke, slipping effortlessly through gaps and crevices too small for him to navigate. Without his reptilian vision, the dragon was sure he’d have lost it by now.

“Cursed vermin,” he hissed, pausing to disentangle his tail from a thorny bush. “Do you even know who I am? I could scorch this entire hillside with a single breath.”

Though the mountain cat didn’t answer, it did take refuge atop a precariously balanced boulder near the cliffside, its gold eyes glowing mockingly in the moonlight. The dragon glared at it, debating the merits of simply incinerating the creature and presenting her with a pile of ash instead. But no, that wouldn’t do. 

She wouldn’t smile at ash.

The ground beneath him was nowhere near strong enough to hold him for long so he shifted his weight and stepped forward carefully, determined to capture his prey. Just as he was close enough to extend his grasp, the cat sensed him and leapt to the next perch, then the next, its movements fluid and maddeningly graceful until it reached the edge of the cliff, paces away from plummeting toward its sad little death. 

The dragon growled low in his throat.

“You test my patience, creature,” he snarled, lunging for it. His claws grazed its tail, but the cat slipped free, landing neatly on a patch of grass in the opposite direction. 

It meowed at him — a taunt, he was certain of it — before darting off again.

The moon continued to rise over Tarus City as the hours passed and midnight arrived. The once-pristine hillside now bore visible scars of an angry dragon’s pursuit of a wily mountain cat: gouged soil, uprooted foliage, cracked branches, and a few unfortunate scorch marks where the dragon’s temper had flared. The cat, however, remained unscathed, not one patch of fur out of place.

He was reclined against a tree trunk to catch his breath, glaring at the smug feline — who was currently lying on its side, tail swishing calmly every few seconds — as he tried his hardest to hold together what remained of his composure. 

And his dignity. 

“Alright, enough games,” he rumbled, getting to his feet. 

The dragon closed the distance between them in a few swift strides, his footfalls as unrestrained as his frayed patience. To his astonishment, the cat did not flee. Instead, it sat up, blinked lazily at him, and began grooming itself, utterly unperturbed by the massive dragon towering above it. 

“You’re mine,” he declared authoritatively as he reached for it, his moonlit shadow engulfing the small animal.

When his claws were inches from its fur, he hesitated, frowning as the cat glanced up and met the dragon’s gaze with an expression that could only be described as disdainful. 

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said flatly. “Have you been… playing?”

The feline exposed its teeth with a yawn.  

The dragon huffed, a stream of smoke trailing from his exhale. “Fine,” he snapped. “But if you bite me, I swear—”

In one swift motion, he scooped the cat up, lifted it into the air, and nestled it into his arms. It only tensed for a moment before it settled, its tiny body warm against his chest. The dragon blinked, uncertain what to make of the sudden compliance and the contented rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate its body.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, cradling it awkwardly as he spread his wings. “Do not get used to this.”

The flight back to the cave was uneventful, though Sylus was acutely aware of the cat’s claws kneading his scales. It was a strange sensation, almost pleasant — though he’d be taking that confession to his grave.

When he landed, he paused at the cave entrance, staring into the dimly lit yet lavish interior where she still sat, her silhouette framed by the distant city. He frowned, his grip on the cat tightening slightly.

He couldn’t let her know it was from him. That would ruin everything.

Carefully, he placed the cat on the ground and gave it a gentle nudge toward the cave. 

The cat hesitated, glancing back at him as if to say, you coming?

“Go, you vexing creature,” the dragon said, his voice low. “She’ll like you better than I do, that I can promise.”

The cat seemed to consider this, then accept it, padding cautiously into the cave. Every few seconds it would stop to sniff a treasure or rub the side of its face on a damned goblet, like it was purposefully pulling at the last strand of patience left in the dragon’s body.

Careful to stay hidden, he watched from the shadows as it approached her at last, its tail flicking curiously. 

She didn’t notice until it brushed against her leg with a trilling chirp, causing her to blink down at her unexpected visitor.

“Where did you come from?” she murmured, her voice soft but warm. Hesitantly, she reached out, her fingers brushing its fur. The cat made that contented rumbling noise again, leaning into her touch.

And then — finally — a faint smile graced her lips. It was a small thing, fragile, and gone almost as fast as it appeared. But it was enough to melt a block of tension from his body he hadn’t even realized he was holding. 

As she started to sigh and coo over the smug bastard — who was acting as if it had scaled the mountainside to reach her on its own four paws — the dragon backed away, retreating to his usual perch deeper in the cave. 

He couldn’t say he’d be willing to go through the hours he had spent chasing that infuriating creature again. The frustration and humiliation. The near-incineration of half this mountain. 

But seeing that ray of joy banish the stormy dimness from her gaze for a fleeting moment? Well, suddenly the grave indignities he’d suffered that night didn’t smart so badly.

Let her think it was fate, or luck, or some divine gift. Let her smile. That was all that mattered.

He settled in to watch her from afar.

“You’re welcome, my nemesis.”

[screamlet]

hi hellooo for the intimacy prompts: ♟ Patching up a wound

well hello i'm back and it turns out i did have another one of these! in the same urgent care/dr. donna universe as the other patching up a wound fic. 1.2k, established bucktommy, future fic, set about a year+ after 8x15 (so canon compliant for 8x15). from the nonsexual acts of intimacy prompt list

and this is the last one!!!!!!!!! thank you all for the prompts!!!!! they're all available here and i'll post them to the ao3 at some point.

---

"Hey, you're back!" Dr. Donna says cheerily. "They should have told you at the front desk, though: I don't do loyalty cards. The 10th visit isn't free."

"No offense, but let's not see each other eight more times," Tommy says as politely as he can manage. (He can't manage much.)

Dr. Donna shoots him a wry look. "I don't just do stitches. I showed up for other parts of medical school, too, I promise."

"It's okay, it's me this time," Evan says, proud of his several-inches-long gash for some reason. "I was fixing this wooden post in our garden and, I don't even know, this happened."

Dr. Donna checks out Evan's bicep and winces. Tommy hasn't looked at the wound since Evan yelled in pain from the yard; they immediately covered it with some paper towels before jumping in the car to urgent care, but it's still too vivid in his imagination. "Jeez, it sure did happen. Shirley already gave you a tetanus shot so I'm just here for the fun part, huh?"

"Let 'em rip," Evan says. "Or not, since they're stitches. Hey, do you use the same kind of stitches for everything you sew up or do you mix it up? Like is it your choice or do you have to use a different kind of stitch for—"

Tommy's been doing a great job, he thinks, of Saturday afternoon moral support here at their local urgent care, but he's still not great with the stitches thing, with the doctors thing. People would think, pretty reasonably, that seeing as much trauma and outright carnage as he does on a daily basis for the past 20 years would mean that he's used to it, he's seen it all, and that's true—except. This is someone he loves getting a needle and thread jabbed through their skin several times because he let a particularly large bird distract him from repairing one of their raised garden beds. It's not the same thing.

"Evan," Tommy interrupts. "I love you so much, I do, you're the love of my life and there's no one I'd rather share all of this with, but you have got to stop talking about sewing your skin together before I throw up everywhere."

"Ooh, that'd be messy," Dr. Donna says. She looks away from Evan's arm and asks Tommy, "Do you want to lie down in one of the other rooms?"

"Yeah, Tommy, it's okay," Evan says. "Seriously, she's so quick."

"I'm so quick," Dr. Donna, Evan's new best friend, assures him. "Shirley, get him a compress and some smelling salts, and put him in room 6, huh?"

"No, I'm fine, I am," Tommy says, even though lying down sounds amazing right now. "I'm here for moral support and I'm doing it, right? I'm being so supportive. I just—"

"Tommy," Evan says, his voice gentle. "I promise, you'll be a lot more supportive if you're okay in another room, alright? You're making me nervous."

"Okay," Tommy says slowly. "Okay, I'll go, but I'm not abandoning you, I promise, I'm just—"

Evan tugs on the front of Tommy's shirt and pulls him in for a quick kiss. "You're not abandoning me. I know that. I'll be right out to get you, okay?"

"Okay," Tommy says. "I'll be right in—that room she said. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"I know you're not," Evan says. "I know you're here."

---

Shirley takes him to another room and helps him to lie on the exam bed. The lights are dim, he's got a cold compress, and for one reason or another, he's trying to remember Ian McKellen's monologue from The Two Towers. Through fire and water, from the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth…

"Something something, smote his ruin upon the mountainside, ugh, I know that's not all of it," Tommy grumbles under his breath. Suddenly there's a quiet knock at the door and it's Evan, smiling like they're anywhere else doing anything else.

"Shh, you're good, don't sit up," Evan says as he pulls over a stool. "I'm all set. You wanna hear how many?"

"What'd you bet, 12?"

"I guessed 12 and I got 15! Same as you!"

Tommy closes his eyes. "You're so excited about that."

"What? We have matching scars. That's pretty cool." Evan pauses. "I wonder if she gave me an extra so we'd have the same. Dr. Donna wouldn't do that, right? Is that malpractice? I guess it was just a coincidence. I don't really care."

It's a short rolling stool, so Evan stands up and leans over Tommy. He lifts the compress so he can press a kiss to Tommy's forehead, then puts it back. "I'm sorry I got all carried away with gross stuff. How are you feeling?"

"Stupid. Really stupid." Tommy sighs. "I've popped shoulder joints back into place, tied off bleeds with tourniquets and t-shirts and whatever I have, literally held someone's guts together once, and I just…"

"Hey, hey." Evan leans down again and kisses Tommy's lips. "Stop apologizing, you don't have to prove you're a big tough guy. I know you are. Everyone's got their stuff. I can make myself a little sick just thinking about cutting up raw chicken breast. It's gross as hell."

"This isn't gross kitchen stuff," Tommy protests. "You needed me for something serious and I—"

"Chickened out?"

"Once I can stand and open my eyes for more than five seconds, I'm kicking you in the shin."

"Yeah, that's fair." Evan kisses him again. "Tommy, it's okay. When haven't you come through for me when I needed you?"

Tommy tries nodding without making himself nauseated. "Let's make a list of acceptable urgent care conversation topics on your phone, I'll keep some good noise-canceling headphones in the glove compartment, and neither of us will ever get injured again, okay? You heard Dr. Donna, she doesn't do discounts."

"Actually, since she teaches at the medical school, too, she's giving a talk next week or so about some new research in—" Evan catches himself. "Research in medical stuff. I'm gonna go to that and you have the house to yourself."

"Sounds like a blast, send her my best."

Tommy opens his eyes to the dim room and Evan standing over him, looking so soft and concerned. "I'm okay."

"I know you are," Evan says. "And this doesn't count, okay?"

"Doesn't…"

"You didn't leave me," Evan whispers. "I know you never will."

Tommy doesn't have anything else to say, so Evan kisses him again, then presses his ear to Tommy's chest, right over his heart. Tommy lifts his hand and rests it on Evan's head, fingers flexing gently in his curls until Evan stands up again.

"Oh, wait, actually," Evan says.

"You're too excited, please stop this ride."

Evan digs into his pocket and holds up a handful of lollipops. "She let me take one of each of the citrus ones, and a strawberry one. They're all yours."

Tommy sticks them all in his shirt pocket for easy access later. "When you run off with Dr. Donna, remember that I tried to be a good boyfriend, okay?"

"Shut up," Evan laughs, kissing him again. "Redheads… are a little my type, but not as much as you are."

"Are you helping or hurting, Evan? Helping or hurting?"

[pastryfication]

winter wonderland

pairing: kimi antonelli x leclerc!reader

note: i’m not really satisfied with this but it’s cosy and christmassy so we ball 🙂‍↕️

part one of my advent celebration

december had a way of coming creeping just at the right time. it brought a lightness to everything, spreading a nice warm feeling across everything as it rolled around with its christmas cheer and holiday cosiness.

to celebrate christmas that year, your family had rented out a cabin at your favourite ski resort, nestled in the heart of the french alps. it was a tradition you had kept up for a long time, but for the first time, the friend you brought wasn’t just a friend. he was someone much more special.

the small chalet style cabin your brother had arranged for your group was the perfect charming blend of rustic elegance and winter magic. it was made of dark wood with steep, snow-covered roofs adorned with twinkling fairy lights that cast a warm glow as the night settled in. snow piled neatly on the nearby balconies, where wreaths and red ribbons hung along the edges, adding festive touches to the scene.

you and kimi had gotten your own room—much to arthur’s dismay—and it was as magical as the rest of the house. until then, you had enjoyed your evenings together, cuddled in the warm, cozy bed, but as it was your boyfriend’s last night with you before he flew home to spend the holidays with his family, you had decided to go explore a small village located just outside the boarder of the resort.

you were walking along a small road close to the middle of the town. the square was alive with the cheerful hum of holiday spirit, and market stalls lined the cobblestone paths, selling everything from hand-knit scarves to spiced cider and roasted chestnuts. a large christmas tree stood proudly at the center, its branches decorated with delicate glass ornaments and shimmering tinsel, while the soft notes of a carol floated through the air from a street performer’s violin.

beyond the village, you could see the ski runs snake down the mountainside, illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. skiers and snowboarders still dotted the slopes, gliding gracefully down the white mountainside. the peaks of the surrounding alps, capped with snow, rose majestically against the sky shifting from pale blue to the soft lavender of twilight.

it was getting late, and your mum had already sent a message to let you know that you had to be home soon, but everything about the moment was so absolutely perfect, and you didn’t want to break it just yet.

the snow crunched delicately under your boots as you took another step through the magic winter wonderland of the small village. the street performer had changed to a christmas love song, the soft tones creating the perfect backdrop to your walk.

despite the thick, fluffy gloves you both were wearing, kimi’s hand felt warm in yours. every so often, he’d squeeze it a little tighter, a silent signal that made you glance up. his eyes always met yours with that familiar, loving sparkle, sometimes followed by a quick kiss on the tip of your cold nose.

he adored the way you looked all bundled up in your thick coat, scarf and woollen hat with a frosty blush covering your cheeks. it made him all giddy on the inside and he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger as a goofy smile took over his face. it made your heart skip; it was rare to see him this relaxed, away from the newfound pressure of the track and cameras.

“i wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered as you passed a stall selling handmade ornaments. kimi’s fingers squeezed yours again, and when you looked up, he had that smile—the one that made your heart flutter.

“me too,” he said, his voice low and earnest, before he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

you looked at him, puzzled. he turned to you fully and whispered your name, his breath visible in the cold air. “i love you.”

your smile widened, a new blush spreading across your cheeks—this time not from the chill. “i love you more.”

“not possible,” he immediately remarked back, not giving you a chance to protest. even if you hadn’t been able to see his face, you would still have been able to hear the smile in his voice.

you smiled right back up at him, but before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. it was short and sweet, both of you smiling into the kiss, and when you pulled apart, giggles filled the air between you.

“we should probably head back,” you said, the reluctance clear in your voice as you glanced at the sky now deepening into night.

he sighed, nodding. “yeah. wouldn’t want to give your brothers another reason to dislike me.”

you pouted, your gloved hand coming up to caress his cheek. “they don’t hate you. they just have a hard time accepting the fact that i’ve grown up.”

he leaned into your touch, nodding his head with soft eyes. “yeah, yeah. whatever you say.”

✦ ✦ ✦

later, as found yourself at home in the cabin once again, with the glow from the windows of the chalets and lodges reflecting off the snow, casting a magical light over the landscape, you found yourself back at your favourite place in the world: your boyfriend’s arms.

the scent of pine trees and wood smoke came in from the slightly open window and mingled with the faint sweetness of hot chocolate coming from the kitchen, where your mum and charlotte were cooking up snacks for your movie night.

a small fire crackled in the stone fireplace, its warmth spreading throughout the room. your family were all gathered around, laughter and cheerful chatter filling the air. charles emerged from the hallway with a soft smile, leaning down to ruffle your hair before pressing a kiss to your temple before he moved on to alex, who sat on the couch with an amused grin, and they exchanged a friendly nudge and a few teasing words.

arthur was sprawled out in one of the armchairs, wrapped in a blanket with only his tousled hair visible. he shot you a playful glare when he caught sight of you and kimi on the loveseat, but it was softened by the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

lorenzo was resting next to him, more up right and put together, but still relaxed in a way he only was around you. next to him, two empty spots were waiting for the rest of your close knit family.

leo was shuffling around on the floor, overwhelmed by the amount of cuddly people within his vicinity. his cute little snout poked at all of you as he surveyed the room, before he finally decided to join you and kimi by jumping into your lap.

you let out a small giggle and went to pet him. as the dog settled in between you, kimi’s arm tightened around you just a bit and you looked up at him with an adoring smile.

this, right here, felt absolutely perfect. this was your epitome of happiness. this was your wonderland. the most magical place in the world.

[satorusugurugurl]

If this request makes you uncomfortable or isn’t something you want to write, I apologize and please ignore my request!

Heyy! I was wondering if I could request a satoru x reader x Suguru smut? With like, some bdsm mixed in yk. Tying reader up, satoru is a tease, and likes to make her squirm and ask questions he know she can’t answer because Suguru is fucking her throat. But Suguru is mean. Mean and tougher than satoru. He tells satoru to stop being so gentle with you, that not only do you deserve rough treatment but you like it. And satoru listens to him, of course. I just want them to run through me like a train😞

Also same mean geto anon (again lol) I’m gonna just sign off w an emoji now :3 -🍭

Hi Anon!

This isn't my cup of tea, it's my FUCKING jam!!

Summary: Gojo and Geto had been on a two-week-long mission, which hadn't gone as smoothly as Suguru wanted. He was pent-up and frustrated. So, of course, Gojo called you to warn you it might not be a good idea to come over. You, of course, did not heed his warning. The second you get home, you realize that you were screwed.

Word Count: 3,706

Warnings: BDSM, rough sex, oral sex, so much sex, degradation, teasing, the smuttiest of smut

A/N: Good God, Satoru x Reader x Suguru is my weakness!! I put my whole heart into this. Geto Suguru, teacher AU, is my kryptonite!

Part Two

She Likes it Like That

“Y/N babe,” Gojo said in a hushed whisper, “you probably shouldn't come home tonight.”

You cocked an eyebrow, looking away from the first year's training. “I'm sorry, did you just tell me not to come home. . .to our apartment?” The world ‘our’ came out like acid.

Gojo sighed overdramatically. “Don't say it like that. I'm trying to save you! Suguru is in such a bad mood.” You listened to him walking around. “I sighed out loud when I noticed the last of my mochi was gone. Fuck you for that, by the way, and do you know what he said to me?” You pinched at the bridge of your nose, waiting for the rant to continue. “He told me to shut the fuck up! For sighing!”

“What did you do to piss him off? Oh, and just an FYI, I bought you more mochi, asshole.”

“Oh—” silence, “thank you-I’m sorry, please don't return it.”

“Satoru! Forget about the mochi. What happened to Sugu?”

The mission your partners were sent on did not go as planned. Their hotel had flooded; it was not like they had time to consider sleeping. The higher-ups sent them to an abandoned mountainside village full of cursed spirits. Poor Suguru had to swallow dozens for nearly two weeks. Gojo had enough; he couldn't stand the pained expression on his face as he gagged the last spirit down. So he decided to Hollow-Purpled the entire village.

The second they got back, the higher-ups scolded the hell out of them. Chastising them, complaining that they didn't do a good enough job. After all their hard work, the time they spent away from home, from you. Those bastards dared to complain about their hard work. It sent Suguru into a terrible mood, one that was bound to end with either a fight or someone getting fucked into the mattress.

One thing about Suguru was that when he was pissy, things felt out of his control. He needed to take control back. Which meant he wanted to have sex. He would be rough, really rough, tying either you or Satoru up, not letting you go until he had calmed down. Or if one of you was fucked too stupid to continue, his eyes focused on the other that wasn't tied up.

“So please, just stay with Ieiri tonight. I'm going to lock myself in my room. Last time he was this pissed off, the both of us were so sore we couldn't move.”

“Ugh, fuckin’ whatever.” This whole situation wasn't fair. You hated how your boyfriends were mistreated.

“Yeah, just stay the—oh, hi Suguru.” There was a shuffling in the background. “No, I wasn't talking shit.” Satoru nervously laughed. “Look, Sugu—no, put down the rope—”

“Toru?” Panic for your boyfriend sank into your stomach.

“Hey! Wait a second—Sugu—”

Before any other indication of what was happening came through the receiver, the other line cut off. So you quickly yelled to the students you had to leave and took off. By the time you made it, you were breathless from running and realized that in your panic, you left your keys at work.

You picked up the spare key hidden under the doormat. Just as you were about to unlock the door, it flew open. You slowly blinked, looking up at a very irritated Suguru. The man radiated gloom and tension. He was in his sweatpants, and his hair was tied in a messy bun, and, dear God, he looked pent up.

“Why the fuck are you using the spare key?”

“I-I uh—”

“Ooooh~ there she is~!” a hand gently rested against Suguru’s shoulder as Satoru peered down at you from behind your dark-haired boyfriend. “There's our girl!”

It only took a moment to see that Satoru mirrored Suguru’s frustration and anger. Oh fuck. The key fell from your hand as you took a step back. Suguru was demanding and rough when he was pent up. Satoru, on the other hand, was a tease. He liked pushing you, making you cry. Both of them being in a pissy mood simultaneously, this was a nightmare for you.

“Y-You, I thought you were in trouble!”

“Oh yeah, no.” Suguru’s soured face slowly twisted into a smirk as Satoru licked his lip. “But you~?” Suguru’s hand darted out, grabbing you by the front of your shirt, preventing you from moving further back. “You're royally fucked.” Before you even had a chance to respond, Suguru and Satoru grabbed you, yanking you inside.

“Awe~” Satoru hummed as he trailed his kiss up the bare thighs he lay between. “Look at you~ trying to clamp your thighs shut.” Gojo’s fingers were buried deep inside of you. Finger fucking you to the edge of yet another orgasm he would deny. “But you can't, can you~? Suguru’s got you all tied to the bed, spread out for us to use you.” A muffled moan escaped you. “Huh? What was that princess? You gotta use your big girl words.” Satoru tilted his head, cupping his free hand around the back of his ear. “Oooh! That's right, you can't talk when getting your throat fucked.”

You gagged as Suguru's cock hit the back of your throat. He was quiet, his eyes shut in concentration. He looked so fucking hot, so focused on the feeling of your mouth. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he pulled in and out of your mouth, grunting softly as you hollowed your cheeks. But the more Satoru spoke, the more Suguru knitted his eyebrows.

“I bet you want me to stuff your pussy, too, don't you~? You want to be spit-roasted between your two boyfriends?” Your pussy twitched at his words. “Oooh~!! Your cunt just twitched. Is that what our sweet girl wants—”

“Satoru,” Suguru snarled, “shut the fuck up.”

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me. Y/N likes it when I tease her.”

Suguru tsked, pulling his thick cock out of your mouth. You gasped and coughed, spit and precum coating your chin. Between your pants and the gasps for air, Suguru went to what you thought would be a head pat. Instead, his fingers tangled in your air with a hard yank, pulling you up to look down at Satoru. His face was flushed, cerulean eyes wide as he looked between his two partners.

“Look at the fucking slutty face she's making.” The grip on your hair tightened. “You think she looks like this because of your pitiful teasing?” A shaky moan escaped you as he tightened his grip harder. “No, she looks like this because this little slut likes it rough.”

Fuck, you wanted more, to run your hands over Suguru’s arms, to grip his cock, urging him to keep fucking your throat. You were desperate to trap Satoru's head firmly between your thighs, forcing him to kiss and lick your clit. Instead, you weakly tugged at the purple restraints tied to both your wrists and ankles. Suguru had set up the rigging underneath the mattress, making it impossible for you to move. Meaning if you wanted his cock back in your mouth or Satoru’s tongue inside of you, you had to wait for them.

What made it more frustrating was the fact that you were completely bare. Not allowing you to hide the way your body reacted to Suguru’s dirty words. He was telling the truth. And the truth was behind your body's reactions. Gojo could see it in the way your tight entrance clenched around his fingers. He could feel your pussy drip around him, your wetness running down his knuckles. Suguru was right; you did like it; no, like wasn't the right word.

You fucking loved it.

Suguru could see the wheels turning in Satoru’s head as his eyes glittered with lust and excitement. “Satoru~ do you finally see it?~” The way Suguru purred his name had Satoru’s cock throbbing. “You see why she came home, even though she knew she’d get fucked?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's a fucking slut.”

“Yeah, she is.” A sharp tug on your head made you yelp. Suguru grinned, cocking an eyebrow at you. “You want it rough? Want me to fuck your throat so hard you cry, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

Gripping his cock at the base, Suguru slapped his thick meat against your cheek. “That's a good girl. Now open up.” slowly, you opened your mouth to him. Watching your tongue slip out had his tip angry, throbbing red. “Now,” he smeared the beading precum over your bottom lip, “say ah~.”

“Ahh~” The second that sound left your pretty mouth Suguru shoved his cock in your mouth. Your eyes stung as tears filled your eyes.

Satoru’s fingers had stopped their slow movements inside of you. His mouth was dry as he gulped. Suguru had been rough before, but this was a whole new level. His thick fingers wrapped around your Y/H/C hair, holding your head in place. His hips pull back before slamming forward, his ass clenching with the force of each thrust. Blue eyes slowly trailed over to your face. Your eyes were red, big tears slowly down your cheeks, and your throat was fucked. Satoru swore he could see Suguru’s tip bulging in your slender neck.

This was fucking hot. Suguru’s bare back glittered in the low light of the bedroom, a sheen of sweat beaded over his toned muscles. It was like watching a god fuck a mortal Suguru radiated a dominating power as he watched their girlfriend choke and gag on his cock. Satoru’s cock was so hard it fucking hurt. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around his throbbing shaft, jerking it slowly as he leaned down, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs.

The gentle kisses had you sighing contently around Suguru’s cock. Looking over his shoulder, Suguru sighed as he watched Satoru. His pink tongue was stuck out, gently teasing your damp folds. The sensation had you sighing around his dick, and that was not what he needed right this fucking second. Suguru wanted more; he needed it to relieve the tension in his shoulder. But that relief, the release he needed, wouldn’t happen, with Satoru teasing you like he loved to do.

“Satoru,” Suguru's voice was rough, “I just told you Y/N likes it rough.”

“Uh-huh~” Satoru’s voice was muffled as his face buried in your pussy, making you whine around the cock buried in your mouth.

“You’re not being rough enough.” Satoru pulled back, making you whine in protest. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to come down here and eat Y/N’s pussy while I get my dick sucked?”

“No.” The cocky smile that was beginning to form on Satoru’s face was suddenly gone as Suguru reached his free hand down, wrapping his fingers in soft white hair. “I want you to fucking eat her cunt out like you fucking hate her.” Your eyes rolled back as Satoru was slammed back down into your pussy. The moan that left his mouth vibrated just right against our clit, making you cry out. “Ah~ fuck yes.” Your cries vibrated around Suguru’s cock, just the way he wanted. “That’s it, Satoru, keep it up.”

“Mmmmph.” Finally, having a picture of how Suguru wanted him to act, Satoru found himself motivated. Again, it might be because his boyfriend was tugging and pulling at his sensitive hairline. Yeah, that was motivating him. Fuck you like he hated you, he could do that. He was just as pent-up as Suguru was.

Fingers slammed inside your pussy, fucking in and out of your tight hole with a force and speed that had you crying out in pleasure. Your moans felt so fucking good, and the more you opened your mouth to cry, the deeper Suguru fucked your throat. He hit the back over and over again, his hand pressing firmly against Satoru’s head, pushing him harder against your clit. The two of you moaned while your mouths were being used; the sounds of whimpers, squelches, and gagging were like a symphony to Suguru’s ears.

Out of all the ways for him to relieve his stress, this was by far his favorite.

“Hah—fuck keep that up, Satoru, bring her right to the edge, then stop. I want her cumming with both of us inside of her. Fucking her so rough she has to call out of work tomorrow and Friday.” The thought of that had you pulling on your restraints. “Oooh oh, you like that? You like knowing the two of us will make sure you can’t walk or talk tomorrow?” Your muffled moans were quickly molded into gags as Suguru roughly fucked your face. “Yeah, you fucking do, you nasty little slut.”

Your mind was spinning as you felt yourself climbing closer and closer to your orgasm. The room was so hot and reeked of sex. It was all you could do not to allow yourself to cum right then and there. Satoru could feel it, the way your little swollen clit throbbed against his tongue, how your walls clamped down on his fingers. He wanted to send you over the edge. He was close to following you as he fucked his hips helplessly into the mattress, wishing it was your wet pussy instead.

One orgasm wouldn’t hurt, would it? You had been so good to them, allowing the duo to drag you into the house, strip you in the entryway, and tie you to the bed. Plus, on top of all that, they had left you alone for two weeks. You had to rely on that stupid vibrator Suguru insisted on allowing you to keep. That stupid toy was nothing compared to his tongue. Which was probably why he was bringing you to a mind-blowing orgasm in under three minutes.

Yeah, he was going to let you cum.

Curling his fingers up into your g-spot, Satoru fucked you as fast as his wrist would allow. Suguru instantly knew what was happening. From the way your eyes shut to how loud you were moaning around him, you were seconds away from cumming. If he was in a better mood, he might have allowed it to happen. Unfortunately, he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Stop.” Suguru scolded, pulling Satoru away from your dripping sex.

Both you and Satoru made disapproving groans as your orgasm slowly faded out of sight. “Doesn’t she deserve a treat? She’s been so good!” Satoru whined, licking your juices off his lips.

“I agree. Y/N does deserve a reward. But you need to give it to her in the roughest way that you can.” Suguru pulled his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to catch your breath. “Look at it this way. We get to blow off the steam while we make up for making her play with herself for two weeks.”

“Huh?” Those words struck a different chord in Satoru, and his cock twitched.

“Y/N, sweetheart, how often would you say you played with yourself when we were gone.”

You swallowed at the air greedily. “I don’t know, seven, maybe eight times.” Both your boyfriends shuddered, hearing the hoarseness of your voice.

“And out of all of those times, did you cum as hard as you do with us.”

“Not at all. They were all baby orgasms.”

Suguru shut his eyes, nodding his head. “See, Satoru, not only does our little slut like us rough and demanding, but we have to make up for those eight little orgasms.” When the dark-haired man looked back at Satoru, he saw a flash of white before your scream of shock and please bounced off the walls.

Suguru’s eyes were slightly wide as his brain tried to catch up with what his eyes had just witnessed. What he saw was Satoru balls deep inside of you. His thrusts were sloppy and needy, and fuck you looked as stunned as Suguru. One second you had been empty, pussy craving a cock deep inside of it from the denied orgasm. In the blink of an eye, Satoru was fucking into you more brutal than he’d ever fucked you before.

“I fucking told you, that toy was nothing compared to us.” Satoru snarled against the crook of your neck, digging his teeth into the sensitive skin. “Fucking stupid toy, not pleasing my girl.”

“Oh my—fuck, holy fuck!” You cried out, mouth wide open. Giving Suguru the perfect opportunity to get back to fucking your throat. The bittersweet taste of pre-cum had your mouth watering. He returned to the brutal pace he was in several minutes again.

“She needs that Satoru. What if we get sent on another long mission? She’s just supposed to suffer?” The thought of that had Suguru tilting his head, bangs falling in front of his eye. “You know what, I think you might be on to something. If we take her toy away, then we’d have to fuck her even harder the next time we get home.”

Satoru’s teeth sank harder into your neck as the tip of his cock slammed almost too hard into your cervix, making you scream around Suguru. “Exactly. Let me use reversal red on it, Y/N, please, baby.” You started to shake your head in a desperate plea to let you keep it. But Suguru’s cock in your throat made it impossible to do so. “What was that? Oh, right, you have your mouth full.” His lips moved against your pulse as his fingers dug into your hips. “Guess we’ll just have to say the way your clamping down on my cock is a yes in our book.” Your eyes darted up to Suguru, who had bought you the toy, for help.

“Mhmm fuck, yeah, I’m pretty sure she just hummed an ‘uh-huh’ around my cock.”

You wanted to argue, to fight against this rash decision, but you felt so good it was almost impossible to care. You were screaming around Suguru’s cock. Tears streaming down your face, leaving behind trails of mascara. They were both being so mean and rough. God, it was so fucking good. Who cared about a clit sucker when your throat and pussy were being fucked into next week.

“She’s close.” Satoru cried out, his balls slapping against your ass. “Oh fuck she’s hugging my cock so tight I’m going to explode Suguru.”

With blurry eyes, you glanced up at Suguru. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes shut tight. “I know, oh fuck I know, I’m so close, Satoru, don’t fuckin’ stop, make her cum, make her cum so hard.” Both his hands grabbed your face fucking your throat roughly as Satoru cried out, his hand pressing roughly on your clit, rubbing it in fast circles.

That was all that you needed. You cried out, squirting all over Satoru’s crotch, abdomen, and the mattress. Your orgasm set a domino effect between your boyfriends. Suguru followed behind you, his body hunched over you, his hands gently squeezing your head as he filled your mouth full of his thick cum. You weakly tried swallowing all of it, but that was somewhat difficult as Satoru extended your orgasm.

His thumb continues to rub your clit until his face scrunch up, mouth open in a feral growl. Satoru's orgasm hit him like a punch in the gut. He fucked all three of you harder, closer to oblivion. The headboard slamming against the wall as the restraint dug into your wrists was the only thing grounding you to remain on Earth. Satoru didn’t let up on the rough thrusts until he felt his cum dripping around his cock onto the bed.

The throbbing pain in the back of your throat, deep inside of your pussy was all the confirmation you needed that your boyfriends had fulfilled their promise. Never in your life had you been fucked so roughly. But it was a pain that you warmly welcomed.

After coming down, Suguru was the first to move gently. The rough hands that had been holding you in a vice gently held you as he pulled his softening cock out of your mouth. “Lay down.” His gruff, gentle voice whispered as he helped rest you against a pillow.

“Oh fuck—“ Satoru lifted his head off your shoulder, “I haven’t cum that hard in a while.” He was so slow, pulling out of you, grimacing as you cried out. “Sorry, fuck I’m sorry, baby.”

You shut your eyes, listening to Satoru getting out of bed. You could hear water running in the bathroom as gentle fingers began undoing your restraints. “You did such a good job, Y/N,” Suguru whispered. “Such a good girl for us.” His praise had you humming happily as he made quick work of the rest of the ropes.

“Suguru, let’s order in, yeah?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

The next half hour was a blur of warm happiness. Satoru helped wash your body in a bubble bath before Suguru joined you, kneeling next to the tub, lovingly stroking your face and hair. After you were cleaned up, your hair brushed, and pajamas on. You crawled into your bed with fresh sheets and relaxed. Satoru and Suguru fluffed your pillows and brought you a cup of tea for your raw throat. When your dinner arrived, the three of you sat in bed together to eat as a B-grade horror movie played on the television.

After eating, Satoru left to throw out the take-out containers. “Mmm, thank you for letting us do all that,” Suguru said as he crawled into bed after his shower. “That mission, it was rough.”

“I’m always happy to help.” Your voice cracked, making Suguru frown. “Stop frowning,” you flicked his forehead. “I like it rough.”

The bed dipped, and Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist. “Y/N can handle it. She is dating the two strongest, after all.” Both you and Suguru scoffed, relaxing in the growing silence. “Oh, by the way, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You yawned, snuggling into Suguru’s chest as he turned the bedside lamp off.

“Did you bring home my mochi?”

In the dark of the room, you heard a thump and Satoru’s whine before Suguru pulled the three of you closer to him. “Satoru shut the fuck up about the mochi.”