#all those gorgeous pieces on ao3 i'll never read?

[haluton]

Sometimes I get on the verge of a breakdown simply because I realise there's countless amounts of amazing fics I'll never be able to read or even hear of?? And I just go on with my day without knowing that I just scrolled past the most gorgeous fic the other day??? And i'll never have enough time to read them all???? Also remembering beautiful fics I've once read and loved but didn't save, suddenly remembering the beautifulness of it?????

And I--

[baenakinskywalker]

hungry like the wolf

chapter two: i'll be upon you by the moonlight side

She’s been tossing and turning for over an hour if the clock on the nightstand isn’t lying. Taggie thought with Gertrude by her side, this might not happen again, but her luck has run out. With a huff, she flops her limbs out in all directions. Gertrude snuffles. The clock ticks. It’s not that the bed is uncomfortable. Or that she’s not tired. It’s just — It’s too dark. She flicks the lamp on, but — too bright.  Taggie weighs her options with her eyes screwed shut. She can keep lying here, get no sleep, and be completely dead on her feet when she needs to focus tomorrow. She can count sheep. She can sneak out of Penscombe, creep through the Bluebell Wood, sleep in her bed at the Priory, and come back before Rupert knows she’s missing.  Or, she can go down the hall.

rating: E

words: 3,343

a/n: surprise! couldn't keep this to myself any longer. chapter 3 will be a little longer of a wait, but i promise it will be worth it. again, huge thanks to @berd-nerd, @popjunkie42, and the @rutagdiscord for the encouragement!

read under the cut or on ao3!

Taggie O’Hara hasn’t been to Penscombe before. Not really, not if you don’t count that disastrous meeting on the tennis court. Or if you don’t count the times she’s been on the grounds for Venturer meetings — few and far between, since the Priory is designated HQ. 

So, she’s never been to Penscombe like this. As a guest. And an employee, technically. 

It’s a massive, stunning estate. She’s barely in the door, and Taggie already can’t believe that someone could inherit something like this. The antique furniture in rich mahogany and oak, the portraits from the esteemed Campbell-Black lineage, all of it. It’s such a big home for just one man, which is probably why there’s been a pack of decently behaved dogs sniffing at their heels since they arrived. 

Rupert carries Gertrude so his pups don’t get any bad ideas — good behavior only means so much when you’re a dog, after all. And so Taggie walks behind the two of them, duffle bag on her shoulder, careful not to knock into anything that costs more than her meager catering income. Which is, well, everything they pass on the way to the kitchen. 

And — oh. The kitchen. Wall-to-wall countertops in a gorgeous dark wood, with polished brass hardware. The spices she could fill those drawers with: marjoram, anise, fennel, cardamom — the list goes on and on. And space for all of her pots and pans, even for a full set of the stainless steel ones that Bas has recommended on more than one occasion at Bar Sinister. She could even find room for those gorgeous Le Creuset pieces she used to stare at in shop windows back in London.

Taggie imagines herself washing up after dinner, staring out across the serene grounds through the massive windows above the sink. They reach all the way to the top of the high ceiling, making the entire kitchen feel open and airy. All helped, of course, by the bright tiled floors, cream walls, and light stonework. It would be easy to watch the dogs running wild during the summer, or to watch the stars blinking in the night sky on a dark winter evening. With Rupert beside her, doing the drying.

For a moment, she lets herself wonder what Cameron thinks of this kitchen. Has she made more than a cup of coffee here? Not worth worrying over, not when Cameoron hasn’t even been in the country for a month or so. Still, Taggie has a laundry list of questions that she’d like answered this week, if only she can muster the courage to ask them. 

Beaver licks at her ankle, and that’s when she spies a line of dog bowls beside a round dining table, situated in front of a bow window. 

“Do you feed them buffet style?”

Rupert turns, still cradling Gertrude, who has settled into the crook of his arm like she was born there. “Are you insulting the way I feed my dogs? You’ve been here all of two minutes.”

“I’m sorry.” She sticks out her lower lip. “It’s just a lot of bowls in a row, that’s all. D’you ever trip over them in the middle of the night?”

“No, actually,” he says. “But you’re one to talk — what in God’s name are you feeding this one? She’s a boulder.” He feigns a struggle to lift Gertrude so he can press a kiss to her fuzzy head. Not unlike the kiss Taggie received back in the Priory, she notes. 

“It’s not polite to talk about a woman’s weight.” Gertrude yelps in agreement, or at the five dogs staring up at her from the floor. “You’re going to have to introduce them sometime,” Taggie adds, setting her bag on the counter. She almost feels bad hefting such an old thing onto the polished stone. But Rupert doesn’t bat an eye. 

“I know,” he starts. “What if they corrupt her terribly?”

Taggie smiles. “I think you’re forgetting that your first impression of her was brute.”

“A smart woman once told me that people can change,” Rupert replies. He’s always doing that — calling her smart, or clever, or bright. At first, it was shocking. Not a single person has described her that way before. Not Daddy, any of her teachers, either sibling, and especially not Mummy. It’s always: Taggie is such a good cook! Taggie is beautiful, like her mother! Taggie’s great with animals! Nobody runs the house like Taggie! 

Smart still sends a blush creeping across her cheeks and nose. But slowly, she’s getting used to it. Preferring it, even, to pretty, talented, reliable. Coming from Rupert, though, she takes them all happily. He’s not stingy with his praise.

“Shall I get you something to eat?” he asks once Gertrude is safely on the ground and sniffing each of the new dogs like she’s being paid to. “Contrary to popular belief, I can cook.���

Taggie’s eyes track the dogs as they scamper away, Gertrude at the helm. She’s already running them like the Royal Navy. “What exactly is on the menu, chef?” she asks.

“Well, madame,” Rupert starts, “the plat du jour is a real treat: my famous cheese toastie.”

Taggie can’t fight the laughter that spills from her mouth. Her cheeks already hurt, and it’s barely been ten minutes with him. Will she be able to move her face at all come Sunday? “I can whip something up for us, if you’d like,” Taggie offers when she’s sufficiently recovered. 

“And deprive you of what one Scorpion reporter deemed perfectly edible? Not a chance.” He walks behind the large island to where a bread box sits on the counter by the window. When he lifts the lid, there’s a perfect sourdough loaf inside. Definitely not baked by the Minister for Sport. “Don’t worry, darling.” He slices through the bread with an elegant knife. “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know the kitchen after tonight.”

And she’ll need it. This is a far cry from the job at Green Lawns, and there’s little room for error. At least Rupert won’t make her dress like a French maid — probably. 

“Let me help?” Taggie asks, already rolling her sleeves up. 

“Agatha, I know how to work the hob,” Rupert says. He pins her with a look that makes something in the pit of her stomach flip. People so rarely call her Agatha. She squeezes her knees together on instinct. Then, like he notices her fidgeting, he adds, “If you want to hunt for something to zhuzh with, that’s fine. But I’m cooking.”

He hasn’t even started heating up the pan, but Taggie feels flushed. The fridge is a welcome reprieve, and she finds it well-stocked with everything an MP could want. There’s blocks of cheeses, domestic and imported; fresh red tomatoes that have her longing to take a bite; fish, beef, chicken, and pork, all wrapped in butcher paper and labeled with neat handwriting; and plenty of milk and salted butter. Behind a large head of lettuce, she spots it: A jar of fig jam. 

The wheels turn, and Taggie opens a few cupboards until she finds the next ingredient she’s looking for: honey. “What cheese have you picked?” she asks, tucking a curl behind her ear. It should be salty to counter these two sweet additions. 

“A white cheddar. Sharp,” Rupert says. “Found what you need?” Taggie nods and hands over her spoils. “A little jam on one slice of bread, then a drizzle of honey over the cheese.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rupert does just as she says, buttering four slices of sourdough, spreading the fig jam on two, and layering cheese and honey over the others. He assembles the sandwiches quickly, and his work is a little sloppy, if Taggie’s being honest. But the smell when they sizzle in the pan — scrumptious. 

It doesn’t take long for the cheese to melt and each sandwich to be flipped. Rupert plates them, then sets both on the round table situated by the window. From a tall cabinet along the opposite wall, he plucks two wine glasses and a bottle of Merlot. When their glasses are filled, he says with a flourish, “Dinner is served, my lady.”

Rupert pulls her chair out, then clinks glasses with her. “Cheers,” Taggie says. 

The first bite is divine. 

“Oh, Beattie Johnson is really missing out.” 

—

Once dinner is finished, the wine bottle drained, and the dishes taken care of — which Taggie is not, under any circumstances, allowed to help with — Rupert shows her upstairs to her bedroom for the week. It’s a blush pink color, with English country landscapes and horses covering the walls. When he flicks on the light, she wonders if this could have been Tabitha’s room. 

They don’t talk about his children. She only knows their names from that ill-fated meeting with Helen and talking to Lizzie over tea at the Priory. That’s also how she knows their ages: Tabitha, 8, and Marcus, 6. Products of a contentious marriage with an even more contentious divorce. 

So Taggie bites her tongue, holding back the questions on her mind. “Thank you,” she says instead. Gertrude, retrieved from her new friends after dinner, immediately hops up onto the bed. “For the room, and the op-op—opportunity,” 

“Tag,” Rupert starts, leaning against the doorframe, “it’s a shame that you haven’t been over before. From now on, you’re always welcome at Penscombe, even if I’m not here. And you’re the only one I trust in the kitchen with Maggie in the dining room.”

Taggie sits beside Gertrude and runs a hand up and down her back. “It still means a lot,” she says. All of it does. The cooking, the washing up, the belief that she can handle something like this. Mummy and Daddy thrust a lot onto her, but not because they think she can do it — simply because they know that nobody else will. She’s defied plenty of their expectations, but it’s easy because those expectations are nonexistent. 

“Of course, angel.” Rupert comes toward the both of them on the bed, and for a moment, Taggie thinks he’s going to kiss her. 

He didn’t kiss her last time. He kissed her back, but Taggie was the one to start it, and she’s acutely aware of that fact. Every time she replays the kiss in the Priory — frequently — she changes one detail so Rupert is the one to make that move. In her mind, Rupert leans first, comes forward so that his mouth is on hers and she’s the one answering. 

His hands, large and warm on her hips. His teeth, sharp on her bottom lip. His tongue, cautious at first and then so persistent that she could have melted right there. God, and the way he looked down at her when, finally, they pulled away. Like something precious. Like an undoing. 

That night, after the party had ended and everyone went their separate ways, after Rupert reluctantly left to go check on the dogs (and after Cameron called him from Corinium), Taggie thought about that look, that kiss, with her fingers between her legs. But the shuddering orgasm — and all the ones since — haven’t been enough to rewrite history. 

She wants him to kiss her so badly it hurts. 

This time, it’s Gertrude. Rupert bends to kiss her nose, and Taggie lets out a nervous laugh. 

“That’s a good girl,” Rupert says, giving Gertrude a scratch behind the ears. “Goodnight, ladies. If you need anything, I’ll be right down the hall.”

“G’night,” Taggie breathes. The room feels too small, even though it’s fit for a queen. Or princess. 

When the door shuts behind him, Taggie flings an arm over her face and groans. 

—

She’s been tossing and turning for over an hour if the clock on the nightstand isn’t lying. Taggie thought with Gertrude by her side, this might not happen again, but her luck has run out. With a huff, she flops her limbs out in all directions. Gertrude snuffles.

The clock ticks.

It’s not that the bed is uncomfortable. Or that she’s not tired. It’s just —

It’s too dark. She flicks the lamp on, but — too bright. 

Taggie weighs her options with her eyes screwed shut. She can keep lying here, get no sleep, and be completely dead on her feet when she needs to focus tomorrow. She can count sheep. She can sneak out of Penscombe, creep through the Bluebell Wood, sleep in her bed at the Priory, and come back before Rupert knows she’s missing. 

Or, she can go down the hall.

“Gertrude,” Taggie whispers. “What do I do?

Gertrude sneezes. 

“Fine.”

Taggie swings her legs off the bed, gathering her courage and her robe. Penscombe is eerily quiet at night — she can’t even hear the dogs, which could mean they’re either extraordinarily good sleepers, or that they have accommodations downstairs. She pads down the cavernous hallway, socks slipping between the Turkish runners laid across the hardwood. Rupert’s room is just a few doors away. 

God, this is embarrassing. 

In front of his door, she has two options: knock, or just open the door. Both seem terrible. 

She knocks.

Beaver barks, Gertrude barks behind her, and suddenly Taggie’s worried that the whole estate is going to wake up. But a lamp clicks on and light pours from under the door. “Taggie?” Rupert calls. “What’s the matter?”

Shame flames from the crown of her head all the way down to her socks, but she turns the doorknob slowly. “Hi,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry about this.”

Rupert sits on the side of the bed, Beaver on the floor in front of him. He’s shirtless, and from her vantage point in the doorway, she spies dark pyjama bottoms slung low around his hips. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, but — God. That day on the tennis court seems so far away. He was a completely different person to her then; a total stranger. Rude, terrible, even. So while she’s familiar with the shape of him, she’s managed to compartmentalize naked, mean Rupert away from clothed, kind Rupert.

Except they’re really the same man, and the markings of sleep have made him even more attractive somehow. 

“No, s’just…” She takes a deep breath. In her mind, she sees this same scene play out with a dark-haired little girl. She follows Taggie’s steps from the pink bedroom to here, knocks the same way, and finds the same man in this room. Only Helen is in the bed next to him — and in her American accent, she asks, “Did you have a nightmare?” 

In the present, Taggie stammers, “C-can I come in?”

“Please,” he says. “Are you feeling sick? I didn’t think my cooking was that bad, but you never really know.” 

Gertrude takes her opportunity to find Beaver and curl up beside him like they’re an old married couple. “Dinner was great. I just…” she trails.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No!” she answers quickly. “No, I…I wasn’t asleep at all.”

Rupert squints at the clock on the nightstand. “Christ, it’s nearly one in the morning.” He pats the mattress beside him. “Come here.” 

He’s going to think she’s a child. But she’s drawn to him anyway, so she sits beside him and fiddles with the sash across her waist. 

“Darling,” Rupert starts softly. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t fix it.”

Her face goes deep red. “There’s nothing for you to fix, really.” Rupert squeezes her knee, and while she’s sure it’s meant to be comforting, it’s anything but. He makes her head swim.

“But,” Rupert encourages, “there’s clearly something wrong, or you’d be dreaming about grocery lists by now.”

Taggie gulps. His large hand is still on her knee, and it’s all she can focus on. “I’m…I’m a-a—afraid—”

Before she can finish her sentence, Rupert’s hand is gone, his eyes wide. 

“No! Not of you — God, Rupert, honestly.” This would be funny if it weren’t so mortifying. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Can you please put me out of my misery, then?” He breathes deep. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get back to sleep sometime before the sun rises.” He bumps her shoulder with his own, adding, “Be a good girl and tell me?”

Oh. It should be illegal to be this embarrassed and turned on at the same time. The two emotions roll together in her gut, and she almost does feel sick. Taggie closes her eyes, squeezes her lips together, and finally says, “I’m afraid of the dark.”

Rupert nods, and it strikes her as so fatherly that she has to push the thought away immediately. Thankfully, he adds, “That’s it, is it? This estate has plenty of lamps if you need them. I’m sure I could wrangle a few more for your room.” 

Taggie shoots him a glare. “It’s just the first night in a new place” she adds. “And I thought that having Gertrude with me would be enough, that I’d be fine, but…I just can’t sleep.” She pauses, knowing there’s one critical piece missing. “Alone.”

Alone. It’s like the word itself punches Rupert in the gut. He looks at her like he can’t quite tell if this is all a dream. “So you need…me,” he says slowly.

“Look,” Taggie starts, skin burning, “I can take the floor. Really, it’s just — I’m so sorry.” She can’t bear to address what he actually said.

“Absolutely not.” Rupert stands, and the sight of his long, lean body at full height is nearly too much to take in. He turns down the other side of the bed and fluffs the extra pillow. “We’ll share. It’s fine.” His voice is nearly back to normal.

“It’s fine?”

Rupert’s whole face softens. “Of course. I’m the reason you’re here, so I’m not about to banish you to the floor like one of the dogs.” He gives Beaver a pointed look. “Though he sometimes winds up beside me, so it may be a tight squeeze.”

Something lifts from her chest. Taggie takes a full, deep breath and stands. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me. You know you’re welcome anywhere at Penscombe, at any time.”

Including his bedroom, Taggie thinks dimly. Her mouth goes dry at the thought. 

She comes around the bed — large enough for two people and a few dogs — and shrugs off her robe. Of course she’s wearing the red nightie, the one Rupert saw on Patrick’s birthday. If she notices his eyes widening, she tries not to react. 

“I know you said not to thank you,” Taggie says, getting into bed, “but I will anyway.” Feeling suddenly bold, she leans across the expanse of the bed to where Rupert lies against the headboard and presses a kiss to his cheek. His skin is warm and rough under her lips, and she thinks about her hands there instead, dragging his face down to hers. 

Rupert hums softly. “Goodnight, angel.”

He turns off the lamp, and Taggie is asleep in minutes.

—

It’s still dark when her eyes open again. 

Hot. That’s all Taggie registers as she struggles to make sense of where she is. The side of her face is pressed into a pillow, and all she sees across from her is a mop of hair and the shadow of dark lashes across cheekbones. 

But she feels so — hot, burning all over. Low in her belly, especially. Even lower, it aches. Taggie rolls her hips to relieve some of the deep arousal building between her thighs. Where is she again? 

She rolls her hips again, and — oh. She catches on something solid. It’s a spark like she never feels alone, burning bright and egging her on. Just keep moving, just like that, and then —

The solid thing shifts, and a few things start to make sense.

Taggie realizes with no shortage of mortification that not only is she in Rupert Campbell-Black’s bed but she’s also grinding her cunt against his thigh. 

And as she moves to extricate herself from this precarious situation, a deep voice makes her toes curl. 

“Where do you think you’re going, Agatha?”

[empressofthewind]

Hey there, Meronia fan! Do you mind if I ask for Meronia fics recs? And, do you have any fav ships (from any fandom) that the dynamics remind you of Mello/Near?

You can't imagine, how excited I am to find your blog. Let's just say in my older anime/manga group who love Death Note mostly ship Lawlight & Matt/Mello, anti Meronia and are Near haters. So when I said I love Meronia, some blocked me and said I was the weird one. So, I never said it again. But now, after I got out from that group I feel better. Then finding your blog with amazing Mello and Near's metas, I'm so happy! Thanks for your blog...

Thank you very much!!! I'm so happy to hear this :-) in my experience most people on Tumblr are pretty normal about Meronia, and it's SO easy to block/filter users who aren't.

Unfortunately re: ships with similar dynamics, I can't think of any off the top of my head, but I'll put this post in the ship tag; I'm sure someone else will have an answer!! In terms of fic recs, I've actually set up my bookmarks page on AO3 to function like a rec list. I have 36 fics there each with a little blurb and I'm constantly updating it, so hopefully a decent amount that you haven't read! I'll pick 10 of them to link here for easy access (ordered by rating in case you can't/don't want to read the mature ones):

the roof by @lightningblade | 3692 words | Rated T

This is a college AU focused on the development of Mello and Near's relationship through a series of encounters on a rooftop. The writing is GORGEOUS, the progression is masterfully done, and it removes the element of the rivalry without removing the core of what makes Meronia such a great ship! There's also a companion piece up as of yesterday which I'm still recovering from (very very positive).

Dear Mello by @tzviaariella | 4158 words | Rated T

This fic is written during the canon timeline through a series of emails. It's an AU where Mello survives, originally written for the 2023 Meronia Zine but also posted on AO3 (which is what I've linked here). The format is really creative and I'm OBSESSED with the way Mello and Near's dynamic is written. The petty back-and-forth is very entertaining and in-character, and there's a certain familiarity and fondness underlying it that I adore. There are also a few artworks throughout which is a nice treat!!

How to Get Any Guy to Fall in Love with You by Sick_head_Sweet_heart | 7025 words | Rated T

This one has such a late-2000s fandom classic feel to it that I'm surprised it's only a few years old??? It's set at Wammy's House, in which Matt gives Near advice on how to make Mello fall in love with him. The dynamic is insanely cute and I'm obsessed with the way Matt and Near's friendship is characterised here. Them scheming together is something I need more of in fics!!

The Mihael Factor by spiritcrimson | 16 chapters | Rated T

One of the longest completed works I've ever read for Meronia and I have been DYING to find something like this ever since. It's a talent agent x singer AU, and it's literally everything I could have asked for in a longfic. A unique idea, compelling progression and a fun antagonistic dynamic that blossoms into a really sweet romance. It's a slowburn but it doesn't drag on at all, and the ending is SO well worth the wait.

3 + 1 by @squidish | 2423 words | Rated T

x + 1 fics are a favourite trope of mine, as is the general concept of Mello and Near behaving inappropriately in the workplace, and this one combines both of those perfectly. The premise is 3 times Mello and Near got walked in on by one of the SPK members, and 1 time they were caught by the whole group. The writing is SO delightful and there are several lines in this that are permanently lodged in my brain. I find humour in writing immensely difficult to pull off so I'm always in awe of authors who can integrate it naturally, and squidish's writing is a great example of that! (Worth noting that this one is slightly more mature than the other T-rated fics here, so I've put it closer to the M & E section; however the smut scenes are not explicit)

it's friday, i'm in love by @neallo | 2676 words | Rated M

You could read literally anything by neallo and it's guaranteed to be good, but to keep this list short, I've included one angsty fic and one lighthearted fic so you can pick the vibe. This one is more lighthearted, and it depicts a very tender moment in which Mello shows up at Near's door drunk and dances with him in the kitchen. This is a prequel to a bigger AU focusing on a casual relationship between them, but it also holds up as a standalone fic! It's unbearably sweet and there are many lines in there that made me audibly laugh.

Speculation on Demisexual Sex Drive by SayHiDestery | 4069 words | Rated M

The smut scene in this fic is so intimate and perfect, I'm melting just thinking about it. It's an established relationship fic in which Near has PTSD and has certain struggles with intimacy, and Mello guides him through it. It's quite slow-paced and takes its time to linger on the small details, which I absolutely adore, and the writing itself is vivid and beautiful. It also features demisexual Near!!

Winning the Game by clearmain | 4134 words | Rated E

This one is a PWP set mid-canon, immediately after the raid on the SPK. I'm a huge sucker for bold & bratty Near and that's EXACTLY what this fic serves. The way this introduces elements of rivalry and competition into their relationship is excellent and makes this fic feel faithful to their canon dynamic. It's a compelling push-pull with an open but hopeful ending that very succinctly captures the complexities of their relationship.

A Certain Hush by BlueberryAsh | 5434 words | Rated E

One of the first fanfics I read for Meronia and I'm not exaggerating when I say it changed my life. This fic has had SUCH a massive influence on the way I view and write the ship. It's a little glimpse into Mello and Near's relationship immediately after getting together. It's really cute and sweet in a way that feels authentic to the characters, and I'm incredibly impressed by the way it manages to give just enough backstory for their relationship to make sense without getting caught up in the details. Genuinely a masterpiece!

i want to hold you (hostage) by @neallo | 4 chapters | Rated E

The aforementioned angsty neallo fic! This one is an exes AU set during the canon timeline, and it is, as you can imagine, a very fraught dynamic done SO incredibly well. The tension is absolutely delicious and there are earnest moments littered throughout that are guaranteed to have you tearing up. Brilliant setup, brilliant writing, brilliant dynamic; just an absolutely stellar fic on all counts!!

[areyoudreaminof]

I'll Take You To The Boba Shop: Day 7 AU

@elucienweek Day 7 AU

Elucien Boba Shop Date AU!

This is a small gift for the wonderful and unhinged group of people I've met these past few months. You all inspire me, make me laugh, and lift me up. It has been such a thrill to have found you all. You know who you are. Slurp that boba down, but don't choke! Read on Ao3!

I cannot thank @separatist-apologist enough for commissioning this piece and zolyna on instagram for her artwork. 🧋

Elain

Elain was beginning to sweat, but she really couldn’t blame the weather.

No, it was a beautiful summer evening, the kind of evening that had a breadth of soft warmth beneath the breeze. The sky stretched across the horizon, the deep blue of late afternoon was making way for the pinks and golds of sunset and the rays hit her face like a soft kiss. The wind fluttered through her hair and dress just enough so that her curls didn’t catch on her lip balm.  It was the perfect sort of day that Elain would otherwise have savored. But she was too nervous to savor anything just yet.

Instead, she found herself pacing outside the café, sandals clacking against the pavement as she tried not to check her phone again just in case he pulled up. Elain didn’t want him to think she was one of those girls who lived and died on their phone. She didn’t want to look impatient or bored when he met her. She wanted him to think she was as effortless and cool as her sisters were. She wanted him to talk to her for hours again. She just wanted him.

It was only her second date with Lucien Vanserra, and she had it bad.

It was Feyre that introduced them at her art gallery opening two weeks ago. Elain had heard his name thrown around, brushing it off as another one of Feyre’s pretentious art friends. Her last boyfriend, Graysen, had been pretentious enough and she really didn’t think she could handle an artist with a capital A. But, as it turned out, she really couldn’t handle being immediately attracted to Lucien. She had never seen hair so red and vivid, tied off his face in a way that reminded her of some sort of ancient god (or an anime character).  The scars that swept across his glass eye just made him even more gorgeous. Her tongue got caught in her throat and her heart threatened a quick exit out of her chest when he held his hand out to her. She didn’t say much to him that first time, but he somehow (Feyre, most likely) found her bakery last week and asked her for drinks after she closed. Elain wasn’t sure how her tongue managed it, but they spent the rest of the evening talking with such ease that she felt as if she’d known him all her life, and she floated as he walked her home. The flirty texts hadn’t stopped so Elain gathered enough courage to ask him out for boba, her treat. Lucien mentioned that he had never had it before, and she knew just the spot. But now, as she flittered outside the doors, she wondered if this was the worst idea she’d ever had.

 Her underarms began to sweat under the cotton dress while Elain thanked the Mother that the pink fabric wouldn’t show any sweat stains. Elain was overdressed in the ruffled sundress, but it was her color and it showed off her most of her cleavage, which she had even powdered with some jasmine dusting powder and was praying that it hadn’t solidified and bunched up between her boobs. She had spent an hour meticulously curling her hair to make the waves look natural. Looking at the window, she caught his reflection striding towards her. Elain spun around quickly. He looked downright golden in the white shirt he wore, sleeves so short she could see his broad biceps and forearms. Keep it together , she told herself, as she skipped over to meet him breathless, “You made it!”

“Of course, how could I miss this?” he laughed. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Oh no, I just got here. Besides, it’s too beautiful out to wait in the car.” she said hurriedly, “Are you ready?”

“I am. After you, my lady.” Lucien said as he held the café door open for her.

Lucien

He’d been waiting in his car at the back of the parking lot for half an hour when she pulled up.

They weren’t supposed to meet up until 5:30, but Lucien had woken up at the ass crack of dawn, too nervous to sleep. He took too long of a shower then agonized over his outfit like he was a teenager again, all before 8am. After nervously pacing his apartment for several more hours. At 4 he decided to give himself time to get to the café just in case he got lost. Lucien arrived too early with his stomach in his throat and waited. He somehow had managed to get a second date with Elain Archeron, and she had been the one to ask him. All bets were off, Lucien was pretty sure he was going to fall in love with this girl.  

He had thought so the first time he saw her in that fleeting sort of way, almost as if to say look, almost like she was made for you . Lucien knew she was pretty, he certainly had seen her pictures all over Feyre’s social media, but to see her in person was a whole different experience. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Sure, running into her at her own bakery wasn’t exactly a coincidence on his part (he might have pestered Feyre for details), but it felt like fate after he walked her home that night after drinks. He had never talked so freely and openly with anyone before. Elain was beautiful, but she was also smart and funny in a way that Lucien suspected went unnoticed by others. Getting her text Monday morning to meet for boba (something he mentioned off handedly that he had never tired) put him into a tizzy the rest of the week. So, with his heart thrumming in his chest, he finally got out and made his way towards her. Dressed in a soft pink that brought out the gold in her thick hair, he tried not to run when she looked up at him.

“You made it!” she exclaimed, smiling at him. Lucien felt his breath hitch.

“Of course, how could I miss this?” he tried to laugh. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” Because I’ve been waiting all week , he thought.

“Oh no, I just got here and besides, it was too beautiful to wait in the car, are you ready?” she asked, her doe eyes meeting his own.  

“I am. After you, my lady.”

Elain

The small boba shop was nestled comfortably between a hip vintage store and a yarn supply place. Elain had found it through word of mouth, and she came as often as she could. It had such a fun environment, it was reasonably priced, and they had the strawberry boba that she loved so much. She loved the place and thought that Bubble Butts might be perhaps the greatest name for a boba shop. The voluptuous cartoon duck on the logo looked over its shoulder in a come-hither look.

That duck gave her an unhinged idea.

Elain turned her head, angling her shoulder towards Lucien, who was looking up at the menu, and channeled her best seductive look in his direction.

“See anything you like?” she asked biting her lip. Like me, maybe?

“I do but, I don’t know what’s good. Do you have any ideas?” he said with a deep chuckle that made her shiver despite the warm air.

“Well, what do you like? Something sweet? Or something stronger?” she asked, making sure to bat her eyelashes slowly.

“I like sweet and strong.” He said, his lips curling into that vulpine smile of his.

“Black Milk Tea.” She blurted, scolding herself for not waiting a beat. She needed to get Lucien to like her, and the tea of course.  “It’s sweet, but there’s a nice kick to it.” He smiled and nudged her shoulder with his, “Sounds good to me.”

She approached the counter with Lucien and recognized the tall dark-haired woman wearing a banana apron standing there. Elain brightly greeted her and made some small talk as quickly as she could before she ordered. Black Milk Tea for Lucien and her Strawberry Milk Tea with extra whipped cream. She didn’t hesitate for a moment. Strange, since she had always worried what she ate and drank on other dates. Graysen always made some snide comment about her weight, and she always forced herself to get lemon water. For some reason, she found she didn’t care if Lucien watched her slurp down her overly sweetened tea.  As she placed their orders, she whipped out her card before Lucien could reach into his pocket and stopped him before he could protest.

“It’s my treat! And if you don’t like it, you can take me to something I’ve never tried next time.” she said quickly. A moment of panic set it. Next time? Slow down you idiot!

Lucien’s eyes widened in surprise for a fleeting moment, but he still smiled. “I’m taking you up on that..”

A loud brass bell rang out as another waitress with a thick Italian accent yelled, “Shrimp Check!” Elain giggled as the patrons began to sit up straight. The sound of wooden chairs dragging on tile over laughs and shouts pierced the murmur of the crowd. Dates raced once another to achieve perfect posture and children squealed as they shot up their shoulders.

“They make sure you’re not slouching.” Elain giggled in Lucien’s ear, “it’s a fun tradition.” Lucien seemed satisfied with the explanation as his eyes watched the chaos with a hint of mischief in his eye. Music played on the speakers while the workers behind the counter sang along. Elain loved the ambience and atmosphere, and she said a quick little prayer to herself that Lucien liked it too. She shot a quick compliment to the woman wearing a lavender jumpsuit and waved to a patron she recognized as a customer from her bakery. As the line behind them began to gain momentum, the perfect patio seat caught her eye just in time for their drinks to be placed in their hands. Passing a group of women, that included a redhead and brunette passionately comparing Star Wars and Taylor Swift lyrics, Elain led Lucien out to the small table, hoping to catch the golden hour with him.

Lucien:

They sat outside on the patio, the breeze smelling like soft jasmine and their drinks getting slick with condensation as they stepped out into the warm air. The owner of the shop had whispered a quick; “Take her somewhere good for dinner!” at him as they turned to sit outside. He obediently nodded, slyly stepping next to Elain. The way Elain had looked at him over her shoulder? He about got on his knees right then and there.

He’d take her somewhere good, alright. There was that Polish diner a few blocks over, they could walk and take their sweet time. But what Lucien really wanted to do was take her home. He was a decent cook, he told himself. He would make her dinner or bake something with her. It didn’t have to be like that just yet.

Across the table, Elain glowed in the golden sunlight. Her dress was graciously cut, and her hair made her look like some sort of nymph. One hand rested on the table; her small fingers were splayed towards him as the other cradled her face as it rested on her elbow. His heart thumped in his chest as he placed his hand awkwardly flat on the center of the table, near her outstretched fingers. Wait, he told himself, ease into it, then hold her hand. He felt sixteen again, in the best way. Elain made everything new and exciting.

“So, how did you get into PR at all? You mentioned your family did law.” Elain said curiously. She remembered somehow, he smiled to himself.  “It’s a family business. I did pre-law in undergrad, but it really wasn’t for me. I liked talking to people but it felt, I don’t know, soulless.” He shrugged. “I fell into PR by accident, I took a marketing job right out of college, and I was good at getting up in front of people.”

Elain began to unwrap her straw, “Well you’ve done amazing with representing Feyre. Was the rest of your family supportive?” she asked as she took a sip of her pink drink.

Lucien poked the massive straw into the foil top of his own tea, finding it too tough to break. “My mother was which is really the only person’s opinion that mattered, and she was supportive. Beron could give a shit. Everyone else is in law one way or another. My older brother does a lot of high up corporate law work. The clientele is kind of sleazy, but he handles it all well enough. He pissed my father off even more than I did when I started his own practice.”

He popped the straw harder, flinching as the milky tea began to seep from the top. “Sorry, let me get that,” he mumbled as he grabbed a napkin. Elain was faster, reaching for the cup and bringing it to her puckering lips, tongue darting out quickly as she drank up the mess. Lucien swallowed hard. She looked at him wide-eyed, “What were you saying about your brother? That he worked with your dad before he started his own practice?”

“Y-yeah.” Lucien stammered, heat creeping up his neck, “Beron was not happy about it. Threatened to cut him off and everything. But he changed his tune when Eris’ firm was more successful than his ever was.” He sipped the massive straw as something slimy lodged in his throat. 

Elain

Elain studied Lucien as he reached for the milk tea. Large hands gripped the cup as Elain wondered what his hands felt like gripping…the sounds of foil and plastic snapped her out of her thoughts.

“My brother does a lot of high up corporate work,” Lucien began “The clientele is sleazy, but he handles it well enough-” he gasped as he slammed his straw into the top of the cup, tea oozing out of the surface. Elain grabbed the cup on instinct, slurping the tea off the top, before she realized she hadn’t broken eye contact with Lucien, who was staring at her incredulously with a wad of napkins in his hand. 

What is wrong with you, you animal? She scolded herself as she cleared her throat. “What were you saying about your brother?” she stammered, desperately hoping she’d saved her dignity.

Lucien’s eyes were as wide as saucers, his mouth agape. Elain’s heart hammered in her chest as she scolded herself for being so gross. Finally, Lucien responded, “Yeah, Beron wasn’t happy about it, but he changed his tune when Eris’ firm was more successful than his ever was.” Lucien took a long sip of his tea and Elain watched like a hawk. It was now or never. He’d either like it or hate it. As she opened her mouth to speak, his eyes grew wide, and Lucien began to gag. Tea sprayed out of his nose and mouth as he reached for the wad of napkins.

Elain gasped and shot up from her chair, pounding Lucien’s back as he coughed. Her heart dropped into her guts and embarrassment shot through her bloodstream. Why didn’t I warn him about the tapioca beads? She thought miserably. Lucien’s coughing began to subside, and she rubbed his back in small circles. “Let me get you some water.” She said trying not to panic. Sweeping into the store, she was met at the counter by two baristas who saw the whole thing. The young man handed her a large cup of water with a smile, while the soft-spoken young woman murmured, “There’s always a first timer.” Elain took two big steps out the door and handed the water to Lucien, who seemed to have caught his breath.

“I am so sorry, Lucien. I should have warned you.” She said, with her stomach churning. Teary eyed, Lucien just smiled as he looked up at her.

“I’m fine Elain. Just went down the wrong pipe.”

Elain handed him the cup with shaking hands, watching him gulp down the water. Even near death, he was stunning. But she just had do go and fuck it all up, had to go and nearly kill him and it wasn’t by sitting on his face, the way she had hoped.  

Sheepishly, Elain sat back down. Fuck it , she thought, and reached across the table for his hand. His eyebrows shot up, but he took it.  

‘Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. “This is my fault; I am so sorry.”

Lucien laughed, eyes bright once more. “I am fine, Elain. Like I said, it went down the wrong pipe.” He reached for his forgotten tea, taking a smaller sip. “You were right though. The tea is great. Strong and sweet is just perfect for me.”

Elain giggled, sipping her own tea, and savoring the cream and strawberry. “So, I take it, I ruined boba for you. How can I make it up to you? Skydiving?”

Lucien smiled, the right side of his lips curling up into that vulpine smile of his. “I wouldn’t say anything is ruined. But I have an idea on how to make it up.” He said, squeezing her hand.

Lucien

The slimy thing bounced in his throat as Lucien coughed.

He wasn’t choking to death. He was coughing and coughing meant breathing. Lucien felt tears form in his eyes and his nostrils sting as tea escaped them. Beyond his own humiliation, he felt Elain’s small hands thump, thump, thump him on the back. Lucien had slurped that tea down that enormous straw like a child, but he truly thought the black beads that sat on the bottom were for decoration. He hadn’t realized they were part of the drink. Grabbing the napkin, he managed to spit the bead up and wiped his face of snot and tea as smooth as he could.

“Let me get you some water.” He heard Elain say as the tinkling little door chime rang behind him.

I’m such a fucking moron, he thought. He felt like the world’s biggest dumbass. Nearly vomiting on his dream girl on their first date. Lucien knew without a doubt she was running for the hills now. He wracked his brain trying to wonder what cosmic entity he offended, when Elain came back with a large cup of ice water in her hands.  

“I am so sorry Lucien; I should have warned you.” Lucien looked up meeting her wide eyes that were filled with concern.  

Clearing his throat “I am fine, Elain. Like I said, it went down the wrong pipe.” Taking a large gulp of water, he realized he hadn’t even registered the damn tea flavor. Taking a cautionary sip, Lucien was impressed by the flavor. He was even more impressed by Elain. How quickly she reacted, how concerned she was, and the fact that she had taken his hand in hers.

“You were right though. The tea is great. Strong and sweet is just perfect for me.” Just like you.

She giggled as that sweet smile crept back across her lips and a soft pink blush spread on her cheeks. “So, I take it, I ruined boba for you. How can I make it up to you? Skydiving?”

Lucien chuckled before he suddenly had an idea. “I wouldn’t say anything is ruined. But I have an idea on how to make it up.” He said, squeezing her soft hand.

“Oh?” Elain replied, arching one brow. “And what did you have in mind”

Lucien dove headfirst into the deep end, taking a breath; “Let me take you to dinner tonight. A friend of mine has a Polish diner a few blocks over and she does these amazing watercolors. We can cut through the park if you’d like.” Lucien’s heart sped up as he watched a dazzling smile light up Elain’s face.

“Oh, I’d love that!” she said. She cocked her head and rested it daintily on her chin. “Your hair looks like fire in this light.” she murmured.

“And you look like the sun itself.” Lucien said as he laced his fingers between hers. Her hair caught in the light of the golden hour and the pink of her dress deepened in the sun’s rays. Eyes of deep brown met russet, and Elain and Lucien watched the golden hour melt into twilight.

TAGLIST: @ablogofsapphicpanic @octobers-veryown @separatist-apologist @the-lonelybarricade @wilde-knight @ofduskanddreams @spell-cleavers @melting-houses-of-gold @damedechance @eyllweambassador @ineffable-resplendence @krem-has-a-mess @labellefleur-sauvage @popjunkie42-blog @bagelfyre @reverie-tales @ultadverb @asnowfern @thesistersarcheron @vulpes-fennec @foundress0fnothing @werewolffprince @wittyrejoinder @cursebrkr @mossytrashcan @temperedink @carmasi @gaeleria @bellatrixship @brieq @c-e-d-dreamer @fieldofdaisiies @kingofsummer93 @thelovelymadone @velidewrites @iambutmortal @panicatthenightcourt @andrigyn

[jjk-anime-horray]

Mr. Steal your Girl

Suguru Getou x Reader

Summary: After Getou catches Gojo cheating on you, he finally becomes fed up with his bestfriend's bullshit. So, he does the mature thing, he goes and tell you what happened, and makes you his in the process.

Note: I had this thought in my mind forever, so I naturally write it down to preserve it. Please take this offering as my first unholy sacrifice to the Jujutsu Kaisen fandom. Please enjoy!

Warnings: This is NSFW! This is Smut! Please don't read it if you are uncomfortable with those things. Cheating (from Gojo), Sex, fluff, Reader is Female and or has Female anatomy , and Angst (Cross posted on my ao3).

When Suguru Getou, your boyfriend's best friend, and your good friend came knocking on your door after 8:00, you honestly didn't know what to expect. Was he injured? Your line of work was notorious for that. So, when you peered through your key hole to see his slender eyed face distraught, your first instinct is to open the door.

"Suguru what happened?" You say in a lower and mellow tone of your normal voice as to display concern. "Are you hurt?"

"No no, you got the wrong idea!" His black maned body lifted in his hand in a slight waving motion as a common action to calm someone down. "However, I have something to tell you. Can I come in?"

"Of course you're my friend, and I'm always here for you! Next time can you give me a little warning will ya?"

"Yeah, of course (Y/N)." He said while moving his body through your apartment's entrance, and swiftly plopping himself on your couch next to your body, already sitting there.

"Oh!" You say remembering something. "Do you want anything to drink or eat? I've got some left over pizza in the fridge if you want it! Hold on let me just go get it."

You quickly push your hands onto the cloth underneath you to lift your weight off of the couch, only to have your arm be weighted down gently by the man next to you.

"You don't need to get me anything (Y/N). Plus, I don't have an appetite right now anyway. Can you sit back down I really need to tell you this?"

He looked you dead in the eyes. Onyx eyes swirled with not their usual playfulness, but uncertainty and concern instead. Triggering you to sit back down on the fabric below you with the same feelings.

"What's wrong Suguru?"

"Well you see....." Words fell dry in his mouth. How was he supposed to tell you this without making you cry? He never wants to make you unhappy. He especially doesn't want you to cry because his friend is skank, and a piece of shit.

He looked over to you with sadness in his eyes, swirling in them with glassiness around the iris'. He thought about all of the times he looked to see you so happy with him, lips letting out gorgeous laughter, mouth curling into a beautiful smile, and your excitement burst at something with joy. But then his mind went to the blonde bouncing on Satoru's cock, moans leaving her mouth that were supposed to be coming out of yours for him. While she was pretty, she didn't nearly compare to you, and while she was sexy he couldn't even be slightly attracted at the thing bound to ruin your relationship. It angered him, enraged him, that his friend was stupid enough to hurt or give up something like you. However, his stupidity gave him a a direct chance to finally get what he wanted. I guess he could thank his dumb platinum blonde of a friend for that.

"Satoru is cheating on you."

"What?" You said, but you could hear him completely fine. It was out of disbelief.

"Look (Y/N), I'm really sorry. This probably isn't how you wanted to fine out. I just walked in on it, and I couldn't just not tell you when I was, you know.... there."

More and more consoling words spilt from his mouth in an effort to comfort you, but you cease to even register them as you started crying. Salty tears started to trickle from your eyes, and down your cheeks. You felt embarassed, jealous, and sad all at the same time. You knew of his past behavior, why did you expect anything to change?

"Wow, I'm an complete idiot."

"What (Y/N)?! Don't say shit like that! That's completely untrue. You're talented, funny, you-"

"Suguru, I knew of his past behaviors, I let my feelings ignore them, and I expected him to change. I'm a fool for that."

Why would you think he would change. Fuck, you gave your heart to the wrong person. You should have known! The trickle of droplets cascading down your face only started to grow even more. You didn't want to be crying in front of your friend. You didn't want to be crying at all! This was your fault for failing to see that people hardly change.

To Suguru it was heartbreaking to see you in a condition like this. If Gojou was anyone other than his best friend he would have beaten him to a pulp already.

"Hey, Suguru." You say, voice cracking as you tried to hold it together, and peaking your head up slightly from the position pressed into your knees.

"Yeah (Y/N)?"

"Could you give me a minute to cry this out, alone? I don't like you seeing me like this."

"Okay. I'll go into the other room, but I'm not leaving you completely alone when you're emotionally distressed."

"Thanks Guru'." You say as he left to go into the other room, away from your water works.

"Anything for you (Y/N)."

With him finally gone could finally let it all out, and truly just let yourself cry. Now, not having to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of your friend. Your eyes turned puffy the more you let out your pent up emotions. The same eyes turned redder the more you let out your anger because of the situation (through your tears). Red eyes turned your shirt wet, and completely soaked from the water streaming down your face. However, the more you let it out, the more you started to let it go. Yes it hurt, but no it wasn't something you couldn't recover from. Yes you were losing your friend, but no you weren't losing Suguru from this because he wouldn't be here right now if he was siding with Gojou. You hands drifted to your phone to text your best friend, Shoko, what happened.

Gojo cheated on me. Your fingers glided to press into the screen.

You waited fo couple of minutes, well only one, until a notification lit up your screen in response to your text.

You're kidding me

That son of a bitch, want me to murk him?

Do you need me to come over?

Multiple messages came bombarding in one go. You were glad to see that she was as pissed as you were. Making you halt your crying into snickering and laughter at your friend's eagerness.

No you don't need to come over

I know u r working, and Guru' is already here

He's the one who told be

Another light flashed onto your screen.

Okay, just tell me if you need anything

Luv you babes!

She never failed to make you smile, even if she was sneaking a smoke. In which that you hated.

Luv u too

"I heard laughter so I assumed if it was safe to come back in."

A certain man came around the corner with a glass of water and cloth his hands.

"Yeah you're right, Shoko is the best sometimes."

You felt a large weight lower half of the couch, coincidently lifting your eye level up to be more on par with a certain pair of slender ones.

"I brought you some water, crying drains a lot out of you, and I don't want you to get dehydrated."

"Thanks Guru, it means a lot."

You take the cup from his hand. Your fingers met with his fingers and the glass as you shifted the water from his to your hands. Then to lifting it to your lips you take a large gulp of it. Causing a little drop of water to dribble down your chin in the process of your refreshment.

As the water dripped down your chin you felt a thumb connect with your check, slowly making it's way down your skin to your lips and chin to imprison the that had escaped onto it's creases.

"Hey (Y/N) I have a damp cloth right here to help with the swelling of your eyes. Can you close them for a sec?"

"Sure."

With your eyes now closed you felt a cool presence over your eyes, but it did more than help the swelling in your eyes. It also calmed you down, but you knew it wasn't the cloth that was calming you down. It was the male pressing it gently into your face. And the one that gently removed it from your eyes when the right amount of time had passed.

Unveiling your eyes you look to Suguru who was currently placing the items he had gotten for you on to the table in front of the two of your.

"Guru' "

"Yeah (Y/N)?"

"Come here."

You said come here, but you didn't actually wait for him to move as you want to him first enveloping him in your grasp with a hug. Your head burying into his shoulders and chest.

"Thank you Suguru, for everything."

"No problem (Y/N), are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah I'm okay, I just wish I could forget about him."

"I could make you forget about him."

"What?"

"I said" Hot breath fanned across your ear, while you didn't know if it was the intimate position that the two of you were in, or it was the black haired man that was unbelievable gorgeous talking that sent shivers down your spine. "I could make you forget."

"Please (Y/N), let me make you forget." That last sentence was the last one needed to shift the mood completely. What was a light hearted one now turned heavy from the impending building lust that the two of you secretly shared for the longest time.

You felt hot lips trail down your neck, slow kisses dancing across the expanse of your skin down, only to quickly trail back up to your ear, and then your jaw. Wetness was placed right next to your lips, but not onto them.

Onyx eyes pierced into yours looking for a awnser. They swirled with want, desire, and love as they looked at your right in front of you. It was so intoxicating that you could help yourself from being completely lost in them.

"Suguru, please make me forget." You let out with a needy whine, wanting to get lost in his lips more than anything.

Then predatory orbs locking in on it's prey, and he pounced onto you locking you into a seering kiss as lips collided, and you were pinned under him.

His lips glued themselves to yours, hot, needy, and loving. They constantly alternated from hot, lustful, rushed kisses to slow, romantic, loving one that were offering you all he had to offer. You missed the feeling of them on you when he pulled away.

"You want to forget (Y/N)? I'll make you forget that that ungrateful bastard ever touched you, and that all you can think about it is my fat cock inside of you. You want that don't you?" Finishing his sentence he attached his slips to the sweat spot on you neck, causing you to silt your head, and grind your clothed sex onto the knee pinning you down to the couch.

"Please."

"Great, but lets get you undressed first, I want to see all of you when I ruin you. Strip for me, I bet you can do that angel can't you?" To allow you to put on a show for him he sat back onto the couch, staring at you with a ferocious hunger that was about to be fulfilled.

Obediently you sat yourself up onto the couch, and hooked your arms onto the bottom of your shirt to reveal your barren body with glorious feature to him.

"Fuck princess, no bra? Dirty girl~" He latched himself onto your breasts. Caressing, pinching, pulling with his right hand on one breast, and his mouth, sucking, teasing, and squeezing the other playful mound of flesh. He slowed his ruthless pace to speed in up then slow it down, again, again, and again. Alternating which breast got which part of his body, and it was driving you insane. And you couldn't help Letting out little whispers, whines, and groans as he did.

"Guru, stop teasing me please."

"I'll stop teasing you when you when I stop finding you amazing, because fuck I could play with you like this forever."

"Guru, please touch my cunt, please!" You said, letting out a whine, and bucking to his erection trapped in his sweats as you did so.

"Using dirty words I see. Princesses shouldn't talk like that darling, but who am I to not give pleasure to someone who's so honest about her needs. I'll give you what you want baby, lift your hips for me."

With no reason to reject his off you do was he says, allowing him to slip off your pants, and little white panties in one go. Giving him a full view of your glistening sex dripping with arousal from teasing. Begging to be touched as it pulsated.

"Wet already darling?"

You gasped airily, as you felt him insert a much need finger into your dying cunt. Finally giving your pussy the attention it it needed with big thick milky fingers.

"Fuck baby you're so tight, I'm going to have to prepare you to make sure I don't hurt you because I would hate to see that."

Speeding up his finger he forced for of it into your pussy lips stretching you out in the process. Pumping strongly with fingers curling up towards your womb he hit all of the right spots inside your walls as he added another finger. Causing you to squirm and wiggle under his grasp pleasing his eyes with the amazing sight.

Feeling bad that you were being given all of the attention, you slowly reach to try to touch him, only to have your wrist snatched up with his other free hand.

"Bad baby, shouldn't you know know not to touch people without their permission? Naughty."

He brought the soft curve of your hand up to his mouth to give it a tender kiss. Only for seconds later to bring into down to your clit, and forcefully guiding you hand to out pressure on the little sensitive flesh button causing as he move your hand to circle it.

This building burning pressure turned to be too much to handle as you felt a familiar sensation burn in your lower stomach as your body prepared itself to cum. Fluttering around his fingers in the process.

"Do you need to cum?" Suguru said while gazing his eyes into yours, speeding up his finger even more than you could imagine. Rending you speechless as you gave him a rapid nod in response.

"You have to use your words baby."

"Please Suguru, please let me cum!"

"Do it baby."

The sensation bursted through your lower body as you finally got the release you deserved. Suguru encased your lips into a lustful action as you whined into his mouth pouring slick all over his fingers.

Greedily while looking right at you he swirled his knuckles into his mouth a lapped your juices with delight, and a grin on his face pleased with his work.

He looked at you with a grin on his face, and a naughty twinkle in his eye that made you know what he was going to say next while slightly pulling down his sweat and boxers to reveal a juicy cock. Long, thick, trimmed, clean. Who new your Ex boyfriend's best friend was packing more than he was? I made you wiggle with anticipation. "I think you're ready baby for my cock, do you want it?"

"Yes please, fuck me now, in this pussy right here, I want to feel you so badly!"

"Someone's eager." He said letting out a heart chuckle. "Good thing you are because so am I."

Before you could even say anything he slipped you onto your stomach and slammed into you awaiting cunt all in one go. Affectively making you let out of scream.

"Suguru!" You let out with a yelp if pleasure, and surprise from the new invading stretch.

"Sorry I couldn't wait, fuck your so tight, if I had known I would have done this sooner."

He sunk himself fully into your pussy, then stalled waiting for your to adjust to the stretch of his member. Since you two were bearbacking he could feel every pulse of your pussy as it tried to accommodate his length. And he fucking loved.

Not being to contain himself any longer he pulled himself half way out, then slammed himself back in to see all of your fuck about expressions again and to hear you whine. God, he was going to get used to this.

Gripping your ass he made himself a slow but deep pace into your womenhood once again. He continued this again, and again, and again. Until he found himself speeding up and he drilled harder into your sex, loving he way he name founded when it was being screamed from your lips.

You found yourself having to try to control your breathing as to it not being completely blown away by the main raining to you from behind. His onslaught on your cunt made you abosulety breathless. You felt your pussy contracting the more you thought about the man pleasuring you, how did you not see all of him before this.

But your thoughts were ripped away as you felt a large hand grab your jaw forcing you to look up into predatory onyx eyes. The eye contact as he was hitting it from behind, having his balls pound into your clit, and your G-Spot throughly abused made you pussy quiver in anticipation of your release.

"(Y/N) are close to summing." He said. while completely continuing to fuck you without the slightest pause.

"Yes, umm hmm!" You say nodding as you still looked into his eyes, knowing his loved the contact.

"Fuck....." He said smirking at your wrecked form beneath him "Great." Then he took his hand off of your next to harshly rub your clit, causing you too spill your release over water than you. realized. Making you see white fuzz through the orgasm as he fucked you though it.

Now it was your turn to listen to his moans as seconds later he finished his thick cum on your ass as he flopped in exhaustion shortly after that onto his arms to entrap you under him into the couch cashing your breath.

Panting, Suguru flipped you over to sit you on his lap, curling your legs around his waist, sitting you up to face his intense gaze once again.

"I'm going to go clean you up okay." But just as he's about to lift the two fo you up you stop him momentarily.

"Suguru, will stay with me please?

"I thought that was a given, of course I'm staying, I'm going to run bath."

Placing a kiss on your forehead he brought you to your bathroom, and cleaned the two of you up. Slowly cleaning everything that may have been dirtied, caressing everything on your body, he held you in such a way that it just felt right to be like it.

And sure enough he was holding you in his arms in your sheets the next morning with no intentions of letting you go. Or letting you hear the door ring as his sorry ass of a bestfriend came to offer you an apology.

This was my first smut! How did I do you guys?

Part Two

[sometimesiwrite]

Just a Scratch

B I N G O ! 

Prompt: It’s Just a Scratch

Pairing: Lambert/Aiden; Eskel & Lambden; Implied Geralt/Eskel 

Rating: Teen 

Summary: Lambert and Aiden are moving to start the next leg of their adventure together. Eskel sees them off.

Warnings: Modern AU; bittersweet; friends leaving; implied COVID distancing A/N: For Ben & Jemma

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo @continentcakeshop @morethangeraskier​

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33145900

“All set?” Eskel asked, squishing in one final duffel bag into the footwell and backing himself out of the rear door of Aiden’s VW Golf. Anya, Lambert and Aiden's husky mix, dozed sleepily in the back seat despite the excitement, having been rudely awoken at 6:30am to confusedly do her business.

“That’s it,” Aiden shrugged, letting the trunk close with a dull, satisfying thud. He opened his arms questioningly, and Eskel wasted no time pulling him into an affectionate squeeze, touching his hand to the back of Aiden’s head before pulling away. 

“You take care of yourself. Let me know when you make your first stop, alright? Anything goes wrong, just let me know.” 

“We’ll call you from the hotel,” Aiden reassured as he flipped the car keys over his finger.

“I still say we can make it to Port Hope by the end of the day if we push it.” Lambert was tucked under the hood, giving the car one final check for fluid levels (tyre pressure had already been meticulously checked earlier that morning).

Aiden tilted his head, “That’s if you drive and unfortunately the highway patrol doesn’t care about fuel efficiency if you’re going ten over the speed limit.” He ambled his way over behind Lambert to get a cheeky eye-full of his favourite view, “Besides, I need you to put that sexy brain of yours to work for navigation.”

“Oi! Gerroff!” Lambert protested and Aiden backed away, but not before getting in a perfectly resonant smack. “If you had it your way, you horny old bastard, we’d be stopping every two hours to—”

 Eskel pointedly cleared his throat, scratching his head as he met Aiden’s eyes with a mixture of amused pride and endearing awkwardness that Aiden had so quickly grown to love. He would miss Eskel. They'd gotten close over the last five years, close enough that they had become friends of their own—each keeping the other company when Lambert or Geralt was out of town, planning surprises... 

Aiden's proposal had gone perfectly, their crowning achievement of mutual scheming. Lambert didn't even try to deny the fact that he'd cried like a baby—candles, dusk, his favourite hiking trail, champaign. Even Anya had behaved herself. That is, until she decided her owners had been embracing for too long and not paying nearly enough attention to her. Eskel had offered to edit that part out of the video, but Lambert insisted on keeping it in—"What's a special moment without our favourite dingus. Isn't that right, Anya? Are you a dingus? Yes! Yes you are!" 

“Not gonna miss us at all, are ya, big guy?” The hood latched heavily as Lambert wiped his hands and stowed the oil rag in the passenger's side door next to the Stanadyne.

"You kiddin'? I'm gonna miss you like hell. C'mere." Eskel wrapped Lambert in a bear bug that nearly crushed his goddamn ribs. 

"Easy, Eskel, Jesus I gotta breathe!" 

"Sorry," Eskel eased off, but he didn't let go. There hadn't been enough hugs in the last year. The last few months had barely made up for it, and now there would be far fewer. More dinners over Skype, more sporadic phone calls, occasional texts... watching his and Aiden's life unfold over Instagram and Facebook. But at least they would be happy, Eskel told himself. At least they were starting the next stage of their lives together with an adventure they'd remember forever. This was important for them. And yet the chill, damp fog of isolation was already creeping in around Eskel. Even as he held Lambert close to him and swallowed tears he'd save for later. 

One final squeeze and a pat on the back, and Lambert turned to get in the car, tossing a treat to Anya as he settled in. Aiden gave Eskel a final peck on the cheek, "Take care of yourself, alright? Don't be a stranger. Call, text, whatever. We're always happy to hear from you. Promise?"

Eskel nodded soberly, "I will. Thanks, Aiden." 

"We'll skype when we get to the new place. I want you to see it before it gets cluttered with boxes. We could even do dinner or—"

Eskel waved a hand, "We'll figure something out. Just get there in one piece, and send pictures. I'm not worried." 

Aiden smiled warmly, "Good. Good." A heavy exhale, "Alright, well..." 

"I hate to interrupt the bleeding hearts moment, but we've got commuter traffic piling up on the 606 as we speak! Get your gorgeous butt in the car, we gotta move!"

Aiden took a beat, "Yes dear!" 

"Okay, Anya! You be good!" Eskel gave the chocolate-and-caramel pup one last scritch behind the ears and closed the rear door just in time for the stereo to start playing Journey.

The car rolled down the driveway and Eskel watched until it disappeared over the hill past the stop sign. When the gravelly diesel purr was finally drowned out by late summer cicadas, Eskel sat heavily on the front steps with his coffee. He couldn't bring himself to open the door and go back inside. Something about the stark emptiness of a home previously occupied with guests made the aimless silence too loud. Besides, robins and cardinals were better than daytime tv for company. Finally, Eskel rested his forehead against his thumbs and let the wave of emotion breach the dam.

Shedding tears was something Eskel usually associated with significant pain—rage, grief, remorse, indignation—an open wound that took time and tending to heal. This wasn't like that, though. This was a scratch. Simple, uncomplicated pain: he was sad. Eskel couldn't remember the last time he'd cried because he was just... sad. Decades ago, he imagined, though he couldn't pinpoint a specific moment. It was something children did before emotions became more complicated. But here he was, sitting on his front steps, crying because he was sad. Eyes streaming, hot and wet down his cheeks because his friends were leaving. Just a scratch.

He felt silly, crying over something so inconsequential— and a man as touch-needy as Eskel, bearlike as he was, was left with the sinking feeling that, aside from Geralt, he might not touch another person for a rather long time.

It's not that they didn't have friends, of course, and he would talk to them later that night. He was helping to plan their wedding for chrissake, it's not like they would never speak again. But proximity to other people was something that had grown increasingly scarce, and Eskel—bearlike as he was—had the sinking feeling that, aside from Geralt, he might not touch another person for a while. 

Lambert and Aiden had an uncomplicated relationship with affection that always freed Eskel from the burden of second-guessing the odd touch to a shoulder or elbow. So many others had different personal spaces, many of which had expanded recently. Eskel was happy to respect, and accommodate, but Eskel always felt most himself when he could be affectionate with the people he cared about, and with those two gone, it suddenly felt as though a part of his identity was being forced back into shadow and shyness.

Eskel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he sniffed loudly before answering. "Yup? Geralt, hi. Yeah, they just-just left. I'm ok-I'm okay. You know. Goodbyes are never easy. How's the conference? Heh. Good, good. Tell him I send my regards... Listen, I should get to work. No, I’m okay, I'll call you later... Will do. I l— I love you, too, hon. Buh-bye.” 

Eskel hung up the phone and stared quietly at the bird feeder for a few more minutes before going back inside, feeling as though something in the cosmos had shifted. 

[caswellprmanager]

the caswell wears prada

read it on ao3!

Summary: EJ's style is simple and functional but Ricky discovers he's capable of more than just letterman jackets and white sneakers. (Part 4 of my trans!ej and genderqueer!ricky AU.)

Author's Notes: I have this little headcanon that EJ used to model baby clothes when he was a baby. Then only went back to modelling once he transitioned to the point he was comfortable enough. Also not me giving Ashlyn's parents a purpose except for just leaving the house empty enough for Ashlyn to throw parties. Hope you guys enjoy!

Warning: Implied Sexual Content at the very end but since it's not explicit, I'll just let y'all use your imaginations.

Ricky has almost exclusively seen EJ in basic white boy clothes. It's usually just a nice fitting t-shirt, some branded jacket, jeans, and branded sneakers. It's not exactly avant-garde but Ricky can appreciate the fact that EJ has found a distinct style that's both understated yet elevates his already good looks.

But from what Ricky has learned in the few months that they've been dating EJ is that just because he dresses like that, it doesn't mean EJ does not have an eye for fashion.

Ricky learned this one day when the two of them were hanging out with Gina and Ashlyn at Ashlyn's house.

Ashlyn's mom was the Editor-In-Chief of an editorial fashion magazine that focuses on highlighting brands that promote sustainable fashion. She also runs a design company herself. Every other minute, she'd be going in and out of her design studio with a phone against her ear and a different meter of fabric in her hands. Her job is also the reason why Ashlyn's parents aren't usually home. Ashlyn's mom would be invited to different fashion events or she'd meet with a client about a new start-up. Ashlyn's dad accompanies her so that she wouldn't overwork herself.

None of that is new to Ricky. What is new, however, is EJ's involvement in her work.

"Ashlyn!" Mrs. Caswell rushes in, a hundred different scarves wrapped around her neck. Ricky wonders if she can breathe beneath all that cashmere and silk. "Darling, I need your help."

"What is it, mom?" Ashlyn asks, pausing the movie the four of them were watching.

Instead of responding, Mrs. Caswell just runs back to her home studio with a hurried click of her heels. Ashlyn looks at the rest of the group with a shrug, moving to stand up until her mom comes rushing back in – this time with a little purple hat perched on her strawberry blond locks.

"EJ, sweetheart! You come too. I need your opinion on a few things." Before any of them could say anything, she's disappeared back into her studio in a flurry of scarves and sequins.

EJ doesn't even bat an eye and moves to follow his cousin out of the living room. Ricky grabs his hand before he could leave, asking him what Ashlyn's mom wants his opinion on. EJ isn't exactly Paris Fashion Week, if Ricky was gonna be honest.

EJ just smiles, placing a chaste kiss on Ricky's lips before saying, "I'll tell you when we get back."

With that statement, Ricky and Gina are left alone, both feeling more confused than before.

"Does that happen often?" Ricky asks Gina, who is picking through the popcorn bowl.

"Ashlyn's mom being weird?" Gina tosses a popcorn kernel up into the air before catching it into her mouth flawlessly. "I've seen Ashlyn help her a few times. But I haven't seen her call EJ into that room before."

"Yeah..." Ricky picks at a loose thread on their jeans. "Didn't really peg EJ as the fashionable type."

Gina pauses in her pursuit of the perfect popcorn kernel and raises a questioning eyebrow towards Ricky. "Hold up... EJ never told you?"

"Told me... what?" Ricky started to panic a little bit. They never liked hearing ominous phrases like that from other people. It fuels their already present anxiety about dating someone who is way out of their league like EJ – someone who could leave Ricky at any time if they realize that Ricky will never be good enough for them.

Gina seems to realize this quickly enough and she tries to diffuse the situation before it gets worse. "Oh! No no no, Ricky, it isn't bad!"

"Then what is it?" Instead of answering, Gina just looks over shoulder at the direction of where the Caswell Cousins went to. After a few seconds of making sure the coast is clear, she tilts her head and motions for Ricky to follow her.

Gina leads Ricky to the spare guest room that EJ occupies sometimes when he doesn't want to sleep at home. In fact, sometimes this room is literally just called EJ's extra room because he's here so frequently. Ricky's napped here a couple of times so it isn't a new place. But he's usually too tired to explore it due to some recent emotional problem or another.

By the far wall is a dresser that Ricky hasn't ever thought to look through. Gina beckons him to come closer as she opens the bottom drawer.

"Ashlyn showed me this when I first moved in. We had to call EJ immediately after because I just had... so many questions." After a few seconds of rummaging, Gina brings out a small stack of magazines triumphantly.

Ricky recognizes the magazines immediately as the same ones Ashlyn's mom is the Editor-In-Chief for.

"Are those...?" Ricky asks and Gina nods excitedly, motioning for him to sit down next to her. The two of them peer through the old issues together, pointing at things they think would look nice on them.

Before they turn to the middle spread, Gina turns to them with a serious look in her eye. "Ricky, I need you to brace yourself."

Ricky tilts their head in confusion. "For what?"

"Just," And Gina can't even hide her giddy little smile. "Get ready."

Ricky can't even bring themself to respond before Gina is showing them the middle spread of the magazine. Their mind skids to a halt when they see a younger EJ staring back at them from the glossy pages, dressed head to toe in the finest three-piece dress suit Ricky's ever seen.

And it isn't just that, EJ's all over the spread – dressed in all kinds of outfits. From gorgeously crafted lace button downs to tastefully styled overcoats – EJ models the shit out of them. Ricky scans the pages in awe because they've never seen EJ wear stuff like this. Sure, they've seen EJ in a suit during homecoming but not one with embroidered roses across the vest or paired with diamond encrusted gold jewelry.

Gina turns the page and Ricky lets out a small gasp.

It's a two page Ashlyn and EJ spread – the cousins looking absolutely ethereal dressed in the most delicate fabric embroidered with flowers along the seams. Their skin is glowing beneath the sunset, the light catching at the highlights on their cheekbones. But what really got to Ricky is one very small but powerful detail:

The flowers along EJ's shirt and the makeup he's wearing are in the trans flag colors.

"Ricky, look." Gina points at the small interview portion at the corner of the page, smiling when Ricky reads it and realizes that it's about EJ.

E.J. Caswell – Teen Transgender Model

"I've been avoiding modeling since I started transitioning and coming back to it was really scary." Says teen model E.J. Caswell. "But when my aunt gave me the opportunity to finally speak my truth through fashion, I knew that I wouldn't regret this decision in the long run."

"There are still so many moments where I hate my body. It's gonna take a while until that goes away. And maybe it won't. Ever." E.J. tells us with a sad smile. "But this is a start – and I get to style some really cool clothes while I'm at it!"

When Ashlyn Caswell was asked about the significance of this project to her cousin and to future transgender models, she smiled softly, making it abundantly clear how much she adores her older cousin. "E.J. is one of the bravest people I know. He's always been an inspiration to me and I'm so proud of him for doing this on his own terms. Plus, I'm really happy he asked me to be a part of it with him. But don't tell him I said that! I'll never hear the end of it."

"She said that?" E.J. said with barely concealed glee. "Aww, Ashlyn!"

Ricky and Gina giggle at the mental image of EJ probably giving an exasperated Ashlyn a big bear hug after his interview. Ricky can't help but stare at the spread again, lightly trailing his finger over EJ's face with a soft smile. He really is so beautiful. Ricky sometimes can't believe that someone as gorgeous as EJ is real.

"Looks like Gina beat me to it."

The sound of EJ's voice by the doorway makes the two of them freeze and turn to see both Caswell cousins looking at them with knowing smiles. But Ashlyn and EJ weren't wearing what they were wearing before Ashlyn's mom called them for help.

Instead, Ashlyn was wearing a floor length pink chiffon dress with embroidered roses scattered along its sleeves and body. EJ was wearing a dress shirt of similar color and material, pairing it with white dress pants and a ruby encrusted rose broach.

"Well look at you two supermodels!" Gina squealed in glee, bounding over to gush over Ashlyn's outfit. Ricky stays rooted in their spot on the floor, their eyes never leaving EJ's. EJ approaches them slowly and takes a seat on the bed next to Ricky. He moves into an effortless pose, making Ricky blush more than necessary.

EJ smiles at them, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Hi."

"H-Hi." Ricky says, moving to face EJ with shaky legs. "You look nice."

"Just nice?" EJ leans down with a smirk, a lock of hair falling to his forehead like some goddamn romance movie. Ricky didn't even notice that even his hair was styled differently. Was EJ growing his hair out? Why didn't he warn me?

"I'd say something dirtier but I don't wanna traumatize the girls." EJ laughs at that and Ricky could only stare at the way EJ throws his head back with the most beautiful smile they've ever seen.

This isn't fair. EJ is sitting here looking like he was plucked straight out of a Vogue magazine while Ricky's sorry ass is on the floor in pajama pants and an old hoodie. Fuck. They should have texted Kourtney for help with their outfit today.

"You're so cute," EJ leans forward even closer, so close that EJ's able to lightly graze their noses together. "Maybe I should dress like this more often to make you blush like that."

Ricky contemplates on the statement for a bit, imagining what it would be like if EJ were to wear more designer clothes to school everyday. EJ right now certainly looks confident and cool. Plus, he gets the added bonus of Ricky looking extra flustered around him.

But at the end of the day, it's EJ's body and EJ gets to choose whatever makes him feel good.

Besides, Ricky fell for EJ without all the bells and whistles.

"You don't have to wear fancy clothes to make me think you're gorgeous." Ricky says before they can stop themself from saying it. But it's out now and there's no turning back. EJ's eyes widen but they eventually soften after processing what Ricky said.

"It doesn't matter what I think, though." Ricky says, reaching for EJ's hand. "What matters is that you're happy. Whether you're wearing a potato sack or Versace. As long as you feel comfortable and you're seeing your favorite self in the mirror, I'll tell you that you're the most handsome boy in the world."

Ricky scoots closer to place a soft kiss on EJ's nose before pressing their foreheads together. Ricky can't really tell who's smiling wider from this angle but they didn't care.

"My handsome boy." Ricky whispers, lightly tracing EJ's bottom lip with their thumb. EJ smiles even wider at the sound of that and it never fails to make Ricky happy seeing EJ so happy.

They're about to move in for another kiss when they hear Ashlyn cough from the doorway.

The two of them separate abruptly, both blushing profusely as the girls giggle behind their hands.

"We'll leave you two alone," Ashlyn says, grabbing Gina's hand to pull her back to the living room. "I'll tell mom you'll be late for dinner."

As soon as the door closes behind the girls, Ricky turns back to a still blushing EJ, a small but urgent thought manifesting to the front of their mind.

"I should take this off-" EJ doesn't even get the chance to finish his sentence before Ricky is pushing him down on the bed and straddling his hips. "R-Ricky?"

Ricky smirks, placing a single finger on EJ's lips as they lean forward to whisper in his ear,

"I'll help you take it off." EJ lets out the smallest whimper at that but Ricky shushes him, blowing against his earlobe. "But you have to be quiet, handsome."

As soon as EJ shakily nods his head yes, Ricky gets to work.

Unfortunately, they're more than a little late for dinner.

---

A/N: I've added some reference pics below if y'all want a better image of what EJ and Ashlyn were wearing hehe :>