#and it’s just fun to fuck around with the board

[sanjoongie]

βҽąʂէ ąղժ Ͳհҽ βҽąմէվ

🥀For the YOTV: Year of the Snake collab (ML) hosted by yours truly 🥀Pairing: The Beast! San x Belle! Reader (f) ft Shadow Men-at-Arms! YeoJoongMin 🥀Au: Beauty and The Beast Au, Fantasy au 🥀Genre: romance, smut, horror 🥀Trope: e2l 🥀Rated: 21+(very graphic, very dark), MINORS DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT 🥀Word Count: 14,814 🥀Summary: when your life is traded to a beast on a cursed winters night, you have no idea how exactly it is utter fate for a beast to fall in love with a beauty 🥀Soundtrack: enhypen's dark moon special album <memorabilia> the vibe is immaculate for this fic 🥀Beta's: @downtoamagicalland 🥀Author's Note: please note that the beginning of this fic starts out in 3rd person be reassured the majority of the fic is in 2nd pov!! Otherwise, i genuinely poured my heart and soul into this fic. I love Beauty and the Beast and it was so much fun to write a twisted version of it. Thank you to all my collab darlings who let me go on and on about it 💞 🥀Warnings below the cut!

🥀Warnings: insults, blood, death, violence/fighting, deception, mind games, manipulation, vomiting, threats of torture, taking one's life, choking, injuries from choking, intense descriptions of violence please be forewarned!!!, mental breakdown, vague mentions of nonconsensual touching, rape (not to reader)

🥀Kinks: dubcon, angry sex, predator/prey, scratch kink, bite kink, pet names (little one), public sex, size kink, dry grinding, dirty talk, choking kink, dumbification, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f), cum eating, blood kink

An open wagon chugs its way through a dark and foreboding forest. In the seat are two shrouded figures, a father and his daughter. The cart is being drawn by their faithful gelding through the moonlight filtered by bone-fingerling branches. Not a creature stirs and that should have been the first clue that nothing was right that eerie evening.

“Father, you should make Phillip gallop.” The daughter places a hesitant hand on her father’s bicep. “I feel uneasy riding this late at night. You heard what the village people say about the forest.”

The father’s eyes glance around as the ground raises on one side of the cart in a soft incline of a hill. It appears as if he is looking for any danger that his daughter senses. “Phillip has been going all day, Belle. He won’t survive a gallop. If we push just a little farther--”

A snap cuts off the father’s words. 

Belle’s shoulders square. “Just a quick gallop, Father, let’s go.”

The father raises his hands as if he’s going to snap the reins to indicate to the gelding that they should gallop, when a wolf launches itself into the back of the open wagon.

Belle spins around in the wagon, eyes wide with fear. She watches as the wolf braces itself to jump at Belle next, so she raises her arms to protect herself. 

“Belle, no!” The father shouts, throwing down the reins and intercepting the wolf.

“Father!” Belle yells as she watches in horror as the wolf and her father fall down the hill that the dirt road is built on. 

At the same unfortunate moment, one of the wagon’s wheels hits a pothole and one of the spokes breaks. Phillip whinnies, scared, and rears, pulling the reins from the wagon. With the jolt of the wood breaking, the cart slides to the side of the hill and tumbles with Belle in it. 

The last thing Belle sees as she lies on the ground is her father stretching his hand out to her as the wolf, and its now gathering pack, surrounds her father. Red covers her eyes and then her vision fades to black.

~~~

You regain consciousness but everything is fuzzy, only slowly coming into focus. The first thing that you realize is that your mouth tastes like blood. Then a roar attacks your eardrums. Were they both from the crash? 

You push a board off of you and groan. You feel various cuts and bruises along your body. Finally, you see why you hear roaring. It is not because your eardrums are slowly dying, but instead there is a great beast battling with wolves. 

All you can see is from behind, but it has a great hairy back. Claws extend from its hands and twisted horns from its head. It slashes downward and you watch as blood flies as the monster slashes open the belly of the wolf, innards spilling from the open wounds. Another wolf pounces on the monster’s back, and the monster roars. It reaches behind itself and throws the wolf with such force that you hear the wolf’s back crack with the force of hitting the ground. 

The monster turns around and bellows a roar of triumph and you realize that you had been mistaken. The hair back is in fact a fur coat. This monster was very humanoid. He still has the talons and the horns, and now that you could see his face you see he has fangs, but his visage is the most devastatingly handsome face you have ever had the pleasure of viewing.

Except now that the monster has finished with the wolves, his eyes are on you. They are dark and as he takes a step forward, the moonlight reflects back, and you find yourself having a hard time swallowing.

You look around wildly and your eyes land on your father’s body. You scramble towards your father, ignoring all the pain that racks through your body. 

“Father, Father,” You chant, bringing his head to your lap, looking for any signs of consciousness.

“He is dead,” the monster states from behind you.

You whip your head back in his direction but he’s simply taken only a few more steps towards you. “Did you kill him?” You accuse sharply.

The monster appears shocked for only a moment before tipping his head back and letting out a deep belly laugh. His fangs shine with his mouth open and your lips form a firm, stubborn line. 

“Why do you laugh?”

The monster threw his arms out wide. “Why, I’m your savior, that’s why.”

You threw a look of pure disbelief his way. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“I was hunting this pack of wolves on my land. I came across you as I finally caught up with them. Your father made a bargain with me and so I fought the wolves to save you. I was unable to save him but you live.”

“A likely story,” you grumble. “How do I not know you guided these rapid wolves to attack and this is not a scheme?”

“Believe me or not,” The monster shrugs his great shoulders. “I will have your side of the bargain held up.”

Your body curls around your father, tears hitting his pale face. “What side of the bargain? He is dead.”

“He didn’t bargain for his life. He bargained for yours.”

Your head snaps upwards to stare at the monster who has continued to approach you. “You are to come with me to my castle and live with me for the remainder of your life as my prisoner.”

Your body begins to tremble but you don’t dare break the gaze of the monster as his boots come abreast of your kneeling form on the ground. You have to crane your neck and you almost fall backwards if not for one great clawed hand catching you. 

“There’s no way that my father would have done this,” You whisper, unable to comprehend what was going on right now. 

“He wished for you to live,” the monster says stoically. “It was his final wish.”

You shook your head, in denial to your fate. “He would rather I die then live as the prisoner of some monster!” you shout. 

The monster snorts and turns around on his heel. “Come, Prisoner. I hope you have enough energy left in the night to drag your father’s corpse because I will not carry him for you.”

You let out a shout, that was part grief and part anger. To your surprise, the monster turns around, face eager and excited. You spit at his feet and grab both wrists of your father. 

You grunt and start to pull your father’s dead body. You pull up flush with the monster, who has not moved since you had shouted, you send him an expecting look. 

“Well? I do not very well know where my prison is, do I? I have a long night ahead of me if you are as dumb as a beast is!” You yell.

The monster growls. “Watch your tone.” 

Towering what you thought was seven feet, the monster has long strides and so you have a hard time keeping up. The forest itself attempts to slow your pace by putting rocks in your path and encouraging the branches to claw at your hair. Each pain-staken drag has you grunting and shouting. It seems like days before you approach your destination. 

“Welcome to your new home,” the monster announces to your back. 

You drop your father’s wrists and brush the sweat from your brow with your arm. You turn around to gaze at your new home.

The castle poses an intimidating figure in the night light. It’s bone-white stones cut into the dark sky. Cone tops and paired with gargolyed corners give it a mixture of fairy tale and imposing doom. You’re not sure if it’s luring victims to their deaths or warning all to stay far away. Either way, it suits your dark mood very well at the moment. 

A scared whinny breaks the silence. 

“Phillip!” You shout, cupping your mouth. “I’m here, Phillip!”

The faithful family gelding gallops towards you, through the forest and halts before you. Your eyes tear up again as your fist curls in Phillip’s mane. “At least you’re not dead.”

“Seems like a beast is smart enough to find its mistress,” the monster says beside you, sarcasm dripping from his fangs.

You shoot him a dirty look. “I don’t suppose you might help me put my father on Phillip’s back? Or would an act of kindness kill you?”

The monster folds his arms over his very broad chest. “I’ve done all the acts of kindness this evening I can afford. I spared your life; that’s enough.”

“Insufferable, barbaric, prick!” You squeal in anger.

You rip a piece from your cloak, tie it around your father’s wrists and manage to pull your father up and over Phillip’s back. You grab Phillip’s reins and drudge towards the castle. 

“Stables are over there.” 

The monster extends a talon towards a small building and you shudder.

“I know what a goddamn stable looks like,” you snap.

“There is feed and water for the horse. I will wait out here until you return.”

You tug Phillip towards the stable. You drop your father in one stall and open another for Phillip. 

“I’ll come back for you, Father,” you say to the night air. 

Phillip hangs his head over the bottom half of the door and nickers softly. 

You press your forehead to his forelock. “You should have run away. At least you wouldn’t have to suffer a monster as a master,” You whisper.

“Prisoner!” The monster yells.

“Coming, my lord,” you say with an insult in your tone.

“Do you curtsy pretty as well?” The monster mocks you back.

You make a mocking face and stride past him up, past a fountain that you don’t spare a glance at, and climb the stairs to the huge door. Even the doorknock is a snarling beast. 

“Fitting,” You mumble under your breath. 

“Out of the way, you thoughtless creature,” The monster growls, sweeping you out of the way easily.

You stumble and find your footing before he pushes open the door with all his weight, the wood separating into two doors. 

The lobby is shabby and not as rich as it should appear. It has the air of rot and musk. The carpet is threadbare and the curtain’s moth ridden. There isn’t a roaring fire in the grand fireplace, nor are there servants racing to take their master’s coat. 

He removes it and chucks it to the middle of a splitting, sweeping staircase. You can imagine there was once a coat rack there but no longer. Instead, the coat catches the outstretched arm of a statue. 

The removal of his coat reveals a tattoo down his spine. The phases of the moon are painted there and you have a hard time not starring. 

“This way!” The monster snaps his fingers and summons you to follow him up the stairs.

“What, no cell in the dungeons?” You mince.

“No,” the monster states. “The dungeons would be too cozy for you. A nice room in a tower, where the wind can keep you company sounds perfect for you.”

You stop in your tracks. Surely he wasn’t serious. You began to look around at your broken surroundings, sure you could find a table leg to stab the monster in the back.

The monster chuckles. “Don’t think about trying to escape. I’ll be on top of you before you can scream in terror.”

“I’m not scared of you,” You deny immediately.

“No?”

The monster strides towards you and looms over you. His eyes are hooded as he stares down at you. “I could tear you limb from limb.”

“But you won’t. You made a bargain.”

The monster's eyes narrow down on you. “I am still capable.” To prove his point, he snaps his teeth a hair’s breadth from your nose.

You blink but remain steadfast. “Of course, my lord.”

“Come, let’s get you freezing to death. Perhaps you’ll show some proper deference when you want to be warm.”

The monster veers east and he almost disappears in the shadowed hallway. Almost.

You are indeed given a room at the top of a perilous tower. The wind whistles through the cracks of the stone, making a tapestry on the wall flutter. A broken window has heaps of snow along the shards of glass. There is a bed and a wardrobe and a vanity. At least there’s that.

You wriggle past the great shape of the monster and then stand in the middle of the room. You didn’t plan on showing an ounce of weakness to your captor. You pull the skirt of your dress to your sides and you bend your knees into a curtsy.

“Thank you for the roof over my head, my lord,” You simper. 

The monster roars back and slams the door. You run towards it and then stop as you hear a lock turn in place. You are truly trapped here as a prisoner of a cruel monster.

“Is this the one?”

“Not much to look at, is she?”

“Are you sure she’s not…”

You feel something cold and fluttering against your side and frown. You curl further around yourself, in an attempt to keep your body warm. 

“Well, she’s still moving. You don’t suppose…?”

“Nah, there’s no way.”

“Did you check it?”

“Course I didn’t! He doesn’t let anyone near it!”

“Would be nice to know. I haven’t felt a tit since--”

You sat up quickly, now convinced the voices were not in your head. 

“What the hell?” You shout.

Three shadows flicker before you, on each side of the tattered bed you fell asleep on. Shadows, you decide, are a much vaguer description than what they actually are. The complicated version was that they seemed human, their faces, hands and feet human skin but the remainder of their bodies clothed in shadow. One is reaching out towards you and you slap his ‘hand’ but your own just passes through it. 

That particular shadow drops his hand back to his side. “No tits for me, I guess.”

“Be calm,” another informs you coolly. “We aren’t here to hurt you.”

“Yet,” the third adds.

“We can’t harm her anyways, what’s the point of threatening her?”

You lift a pillow and throw it through the abdomen of one of the shadow men. “Just leave me alone!”

One of them sighs. “We’re here to bring you to San. He says it's time for you to grovel. If you beg and plead him enough, he might feed you.”

You look at the deliverer of that message like he grew a second head. “I don’t think so.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Your funeral.”

“Oh wait, didn’t he say to deliver a message? If she says no?”

“That’s right.” One of them clears their throat. “If you don’t come down to eat, you won’t eat until you do.”

“Fine, I’ll starve.” You grab another pillow and wrap your arms around it. “I’ve dined on dreams and depression before. It’s not half bad once you get used to it.”

“This is about to get goooood,” one of them says, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“I wonder if he’ll let us watch.”

“Might be able to convince him that it’s more humiliation for her if he does.”

The three shadow men leave your room, not bothering with the door as they have no corporeal form to speak of. But you can still hear their cruel laughter as they poof through the walls. 

What other form of torture was your life to endure?

In the end, it is not your hunger that pushes you to fold but the necessity of burying your father. 

You learn that the shadows' names are Hongjoong, Mingi and Yeosang. You don’t understand much about this castle but you learn that San’s fate and theirs are tied together. All of them blame San for their shadow state but depend on him, so it’s a twisted version of life, much like your own. You owe San your life but you also despise him.

“Well?” San broke through your deep thoughts.

The beast was sitting on a high back chair in front of the cold but beautiful fireplace. You had been staring listlessly at the carvings in the stone on the mantle, trying to find your words.

“Please, my lord. Will you allow me to bury my father?”

San is silent for a few minutes and it causes you to turn your gaze to your captor. He’s leaning forward, elbows bracing on his knees and his fingers curling around his sharp jaw to contemplate you. “You starve for days, refusing to bend the knee to me for anything I demand of you, yet this is what you’re willing to break for?”

You swallow nervously but raise your chin stubbornly. “He was the only thing that mattered in the world to me. He--” Your throat tightens as grief runs through you. “He was the only one in this world who cared for me, genuinely. So I must give him a proper bur--”

“It’s the middle of winter,” San cuts you off. “You won’t be able to break ground until spring.”

“I can--”

San throws a tin cup at you and it dings pitifully against the mantle next to your head. The mixture of a foul-smelling brew splashes you but you are unharmed by his temper. “By the time you manage to make a hole, it will be spring.”

“You would deny me even this?” You whisper hoarsely. “You truly are a beast.”

“Crawl and beg me for it.”

Your hands curl into fists, your nails digging into your palms. You have to curb any instinct to slap him across the face. You knew he could break you in a second. You flirt with the idea of letting him snap your neck but you have to honor your father’s dying wish. You can't follow him so quickly into the afterlife. 

So you descend to your knees slowly. 

San sits back in his chair, arms bracing against the armrests. A small, satisfied smile pulls one corner of his lip. “Much better.”

“Please…my lord…” You say with stilted words. “Please let me bury my father.”

San’s eyes become hooded as you move closer to him. “Lick my boot.”

You fought with your emotions and your pride; perseverance and grief won. 

You lean down, bringing your face close to San’s boot. You open your mouth hesitantly, especially as your peripherals pick up flickers of black. Mingi, Hongjoong and Yeosang are here to view your embarrassment, of course. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, humiliation poking at you. Still, your tongue finds San’s boot. You watch in horror as a strip of spit appears on the beast’s boot. 

“Smart girl,” San purrs above you.

Mingi clears his throat. “Was it just me, or could you feel--”

“Shut up, Mingi” Hongjoong hushes his companion. 

“I could feel it,” Yeosang agrees, despite Hongjoong’s death glare. 

You raise to sit on your haunches, unsure how much subservience San needs for you to get what you want. “So, you’ll allow me to bury my father?”

“No, are you stupid?” San rolls his eyes. “I told you, the ground is too hard.”

“You treacherous curr,” You snarl. You grab his legs, pushing yourself up, and dig your fingers into his thighs. “You said--”

“I didn’t say I’d help you. I didn’t even say I’d agree to this farce. I simply instructed you to crawl and beg me for permission.”

“I will--”

One, sharp talon rests on your jugular. The sharp tip pushes against your skin but doesn’t break it. “Choose your next words carefully, Prisoner.”

“I will go back to my room now.” You swallow your anger but it gets stuck in your throat. You loathe yourself more than you loathe the monster you live with right now. 

“Hongjoong, take her.”

A toothy grin appears on San’s face. You wish nothing more than to kick that smug look off his face but, for now, you will settle with curling up in your musty bed. 

“Come on,” Hongjoong makes a shooing motion as he herds you towards the stairs.

“You are a coward!” You shout over your shoulder but stomp towards the staircase.

“Excuse me?”San growls behind you. 

“Oh shit,” Mingi whispers.

“I know you heard me. You're a beast after all, most beasts have good hearing. Or are you both dumb and deaf?”

A roar sends warning signals to your brain and you barely register the blur of gold along the railing until San is standing in front of you, shoulders heaving as he breathes heavy. 

“What did you just say?”

“I said--”

“Must you test my ability to keep you alive every day?” San snarls in your face.

“I just finished licking your boot for your evil little shadow servants’ entertainment and you dare wonder why I push your limits?” You say as you poke his chest with your forefinger.

“We're not his servants!” Hongjoong protests.

“More like men-at-arms!” Yeosang insists.

“You will eat today at my table or so help me.” San reaches out with a taloned hand but ultimately clenches his fist instead of wrapping it around your neck. “Today,” he emphasizes.

“Or so help you what, San?”

“Or I will leave your father's body for the wolves.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

But as you search his face, you only find firm resolve. He would. San would toss your father’s body to be torn apart by the beasts that had killed him. 

“Your heart is as black as your hair,” You spit.

“Dinner. In an hour. Mingi will bring you something to wear.”

“Something to wear? Do you just so happen to keep women's clothing lying around in this accursed castle?” You demand.

With a whirl of his favorite fur coat, San breezes past you. “And if you refuse to wear what Mingi brings you, you will come naked.”

You are silent as you walk up the winding staircase that takes you up through the narrow tower. 

Hongjoong isn’t silent, however. “You sure do know how to wind him up,” Hongjoong comments.

“Well, it’s not like he’s providing a precedent for being nice,” You mumble.

Hongjoong hums in agreement but casts a look over his shoulder. “You know, he hardly ever speaks to us.”

You roll your eyes. “I wish he’d do the same with me.”

Hongjoong shook his head. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it, Hongjoong,” You snap.

By now, you are in front of the door of your bedroom. Hongjoong stands with his arms folded over his chest. “It’s not my place.”

“Then stop hinting at something you can’t talk about.” 

You breeze by the shadow man and slam your door. Not that that would stop him from coming inside.

Mingi comes in minutes later, a dress swishing in his arms. You are sitting at the vanity with its cracked mirror. It’s flowy, if not a bit worn around the edges. It's as if time itself has eaten away at it. He offers you the dress, his face curious.

“Will you go?” 

“I have no choice,” You say bitterly. “My father deserves better than being ripped apart by wolves.”

Mingi shrugs and then tosses the dress to you. When he doesn’t leave, you send him a glare.

Mingi leers. “It’s not like I haven’t peeked already.”

Your eyes hurt from the amount of eye rolling you’ve been doing lately. “Fine, ogle all you want. It’s not like I have any other freedoms.”

You discard your current dress, dirty and torn when you fell from the cart tumbling down the cliff, and slip into the one Mingi brought. There’s two layers: the underneath is white and the overdress blue.

You rub the fabric between your hands. “Why would he have something like this?”

Mingi’s face blanks. “We should get down there.”

Mingi disappears somewhere between you going back down the stairs in your new dress and arriving at the door to the dining hall. You say hall because it is exactly that: the room echoes as you open the door and you take in the decaying decadence of the room. San is sitting at the head of the table and you walk in hesitantly.

“You will sit here,” San commands.

The sharp noise of a chair scraping the bare floor makes you wince. You pick up your skirts and begin to make your way to the chair that San has pulled out for you. Once you sit down, San’s taloned hand sweeps behind the chair and pushes you in so tightly; you’re practically trapped against the table.

The table is empty, and just as you’re about to inquire if you must pretend to eat as well, San claps, and food magically appears along the table. It is filled to the brim and your mouth drops open. Nothing made sense in this cursed castle.

“Don’t ask,” San growls. “Just eat.”

You had never known a life of elevation. Your father was an inventor and was only able to keep you fed and clothed because of his ability to make complex clocks and sell them. Later on in life, you also grew to adore the complexity of putting a clock together, with its charm of ringing and making a dramatic scene. So when the food from the table melts in your mouth with the taste of spices you were not familiar with, you practically moan.

San tears into a turkey leg he unceremoniously rips from the turkey itself, and watches you closely. “Interesting, watching a peasant eat her first sumptuous meal ever.”

You can feel the heat of embarrassment climb up your neck but still you eat. Now that you were consuming food, you did not wish to be banished from it. Because you knew that was what would happen next if you opened your mouth.

When silence continues to greet San, he continues to fill it. You are reminded of the fact that Hongjoong had said that San rarely spoke to the shadow men. You wondered why that was?

“I will make a pyre for your father. You can find something to put his ashes in. Then we can put this whole matter behind us,” San says gruffly.

You drop the fork you had been using and it clunks against your porcelain plate. “What?”

San continues to consume his turkey leg and then throws the bone towards the dark wall of the dining hall. “A pyre. For your father’s dead body. I told you, you cannot break ground in the winter.”

“So…before? You weren’t trying to…” The words die in your mouth. 

“Trying to do what?” San raises his eyebrows in question.

You shake your head. “Nothing. Nevermind. Thank you.”

“I do not want a body rotting in my stables,” San says gruffly.

“May I…begin to come out of my room now?” You ask hesitantly.

“Have you learned to behave yourself?” San shoots back at you.

You feel embarrassment twist in your gut once again, recalling only an hour ago that you were licking San’s boots. “Do you require me to debase myself for you any longer?”

“I could.”

Your head shoots up to meet San’s eyes. His face is blank, haughty, typical from what you’ve seen of the beast. “You must lead a boring life if you’ve got nothing better to do that torture me.”

San’s eyes crackle with anger. “We are all prisoners to this estate. Including you.”

Hongjoong burst into the hall, not bothering with a door, like always. “My Lord, I have the--”

“Nevermind, Hongjoong. Our prisoner will be going back to her room.”

Hongjoong halts in his tracks. “My Lord?”

San jerks his chin in the direction of the exit. “Put everything back. Yeosang can escort her to her room. We are done.”

“You’re done, you mean,” You grumble.

San launches over the table and grips your jaw severely. “Do you know what you just ate?”

You frown up at him, your jaw aching from how San is clenching it. “Food?”

San practically drags you out of your chair, towards a floor length mirror in the hall. “Look in the mirror.”

You almost didn’t recognize yourself. Your hands were covered in blood and more blood dribbles down your chin and neck. You look like a deranged woman in the mirror. But San, he looks normal. His horns and taloned hands are gone. The look on his face, however, is not normal. His grin is maniacal as he stares into your eyes through the mirror. 

“Did you enjoy wolf meat? Did it satisfy your need for blood?”

“You are a monster,” You whisper. 

“Takes one to know one,” San whispers back.

You break the grip he has on your jaw and run out of the room. 

Why was it your lot in life to live with this monster?

You barely make it to the outside before your stomach heaves up everything you have eaten. The bile burns your throat and angry tears threaten to escape your eyes. You refuse, however, dashing them away, and you wipe your face with your dress. 

“He’s got a face anyone could love and yet his heart is blacker than coal,” a voice comes from the darkness of the night.

“Who’s there?”

“A ghost.”

You scoff. “Monsters, ghosts, shadow men. What doesn’t this castle have?”

“Love.”

You purse your lips together. “You won’t reveal yourself?”

“All you need to know is that you’re going to fail.”

“Fail at living here? I don’t doubt it. If not for my father’s dying wish being to live, I’d throw myself out of my tower window right now.”

“Don’t!” The ghost hisses. “You don’t want to be trapped here in the afterlife as well.”

You open your mouth to pose another question but Yeosang finds you outside. 

“Come on, Belle, better get you back up to your room.”

“Worried for my safety?” You say blithely. 

Yeosang chuckles. “If San kills you, where’s the fun in that?”

You roll your eyes heavily. “Torture seems to be in all your souls, huh?”

“You could say that.”

You stand in one of the many dead gardens around the castle. In the centre of what used to be a well-manicured lawn, a pyre is roughly built. The old, dry logs look more wild than you prefer. Then again, everything on this estate is twisted, isn't it?

The heat of the fire puffs against your face, reminding you that you haven’t said a word about your father.

“Maurice was a man whose brain was bigger than his thoughts. My father dreamed of creations that could only live out in his mind. Even given a thousand years, I don’t believe mechanics could catch up to his ideas. He loved my mother until the moment he died, never remarrying, despite bringing up a little girl. There was nothing my father wouldn’t do for me.”

You pause, needing to swallow down the pain that was bubbling back up in your throat. You push down the random thought bubble that your current situation was because of him. Your father simply did what he could for the sake of you. There was nothing wrong with that.

“This man--”

You throw your arm to dispel another hot gust blown towards you. The smoke from the wood should cover the smell of the burning corpse, but when a whiff of burning hair comes your way, you have to turn away completely.

“Did you bring something for him?”

San’s voice comes from behind you. You turn around to find his large form shielding you from the pyre. His face is devoid of any emotion. You should have known that words never swayed the beast. 

You raise a cerulean, cracked vase for your lord’s approval. “This is okay?”

San grunts and turns around. You can see how the light of the flame flickers across his face, as if any light is fruitless in its attempt to touch him. 

“You said your words. Leave the vase with me.”

Your eyebrows furrow in worry. “It should be me--”

“You’re too weak.” San cuts you off. “Go back inside.”

You feel the backlash of hurt and take a step back. “Fine,” You say with a chill to your tone. 

You stomp back the castle. You feel as if San’s words are stuck in your throat, choking you, filling you with distaste for yourself. Weak? You were surviving him, weren’t you?

You circle around the unattended-to paths until you find the fountain and the front of the castle. Once inside, you toss off your mink cloak, throwing it to the back of one of the upholstered coaches. You have no idea where your clothes are coming from but you hardly care for the fur San insists on the both of you donning, even if it does keep you warm. 

Now that you are free to roam the castle, no longer a prisoner to your tower room, you’ve come across many rooms and items that make your blood curl. It’s a game of chance of what you’ll find. Sometimes you find pity in your gut. This castle had clearly been the epitome of posh. It was sad to see it so ripped up.

Today, however, instead of turning east and exploring outwards from your tower, you choose to take a left at the top of the stairs. You know San disappears into this wing of the castle sometimes. Did he sleep down here?

Yeosang appears in front of you, his arms crossed across his chest. “You shouldn’t be here, Belle.”

You walk right through the shadow man, his form swallowing you up momentarily and then you come out the other side of him. “Stop me then.”

Mingi pulls from the shadows of the high ceiling-ed hallway. “You know we can’t physically, that’s rude.”

You raise a corner of your lip in derision. The way your hatred for the trio of shadow men nearly eclipses that of your spite towards San. “So sorry for your situation.”

“He can’t hurt us but he can hurt you.” Hongjoong’s form drips from the ceiling in one long line until it fully forms in front of you. 

“He’ll hurt me whether I go this way or not,” You scoff, unwilling to relive the few moments before the pyre for your father.

“You will know no anger like this one if he finds you down here, however,” Yeosang reaches out but his hand passes through your arm.

You shrug, the lingering coolness of his shadow giving you goosebumps. “He’s either a man of his word and keeps me alive or he doesn’t. I don’t care.”

The further into the wing you travel, the more torn up the entire place feels. You can imagine the temper tantrums San’s taloned hands and large shoulders is capable of wreaking havoc. He truly is a beast; no human would continue to make their surroundings this ripped up.

You follow the destruction until you come across a wide set of doors. It feels forbidden and you feel a jolt of excitement travel through you. You’ve had so little to be happy about these days. Perhaps this is exactly what you need.

“Belle.”

You turn around swiftly to see that the three shadowmen have not left you alone quite yet.

“Listen to me. I don’t care what you have to say. You’ve been nothing but little shits, no, worse, assistants in torture, to that beast you call lord. Either shut up or leave me be! I’m doing this.”

You hold your breath as you push the door open and take in what’s in front of you: a grand room with a balcony and large glass doors. A huge canopied bed sits on one side, while an entire sitting room is across it. You can spot the opulence of a lordling. San’s bad attitude definitely began from being spoiled and entitled. 

There’s a table near the glass doors and it seems to be calling for you. The closer you get, lifting your skirt to step over a broken mirror on the floor, you feel a pain in your chest. Absent-mindedly, you rub your chest, right above your heart, and approach the table.

There is a singular plant in the middle with a glass cover. Your pain only escalates but you have to see what the hell is being kept alive in San’s room. There is something small at the top of the clay pot. The pot itself is modeled after a rose in bloom. Odd. 

“What in the world?” You wonder out loud. 

You lean over the plant, reaching out a finger to dig into the soil and poke at the plant. 

“Uh oh,” Mingi whispers and that’s the only warning you get before San lets out a roar behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” San snarls and strides to where you are.

“What is that, San?” You demand.

You do not get an answer, for San wraps his taloned hand around your neck and slams you into the glass doors that lead to the balcony. The glass cracks and you feel your vision sparkle.

“You should not be here!”

You gasp as you attempt to inhale air but your windpipe is nearly cut off from how tight San’s hand is around your neck. It’s sad you can’t spit out your own poison but you find yourself getting giddy as your vision continues to narrow. Squeaky, croaking, creepy giggles escape your lips. 

“My lord!” Hongjoong appears at San’s elbow. “You need to let her go.”

“Where were you when she was scampering off into my rooms?” San demands.

His nails dig into the back of your neck, unrelentless, as Hongjoong answers. “We can hardly stop her! She can’t breathe!”

“What’s one more?” San whispers to himself.

Hongjoong’s hands wrap around San’s arm, despite not truly being able to hold on. “You said you liked this one! You know what’s at stake! My lord!”

Your vision has almost come down to a pinprick before San finally lets go of you and you fall to the floor. You cough and gasp as air finally enters your lungs. You bring your hands up to your neck. You wince, unsure if you can even speak. 

“Belle?” Mingi’s big eyes peer into your face. 

You held up a hand to indicate you’re alive. Yeosang lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You are allowed anywhere but here.” The beast stands in front of you, scowling down on your pitiful body. 

You take great joy in pushing your tongue out at him. Hongjoong snorts and then blanks his face. 

“You’ll need some cool water. Come on, Little Miss Curious. You’ve got your other seven lives, don’t you?”

You crawl around San and somehow manage to stand up but you need help from one of the posts on San's bed. 

The beast must be watching you, for he says next, “He’s in your room, if you were wondering.”

At least your father was put to rest now.

You can’t speak for weeks. The damage San did to you was almost irreparable. The magic table somehow managed to make meals that you could swallow, but that was the only reprieve you are given.

Unable to even speak to entertain yourself, you explore more of the east wing. Eventually, you find the remains of a library. The first day you struggle to even open a heavy curtain so that you can see what is in the library. The second day you almost die because of all the dust that’s accumulated. By the third day, you manage to haul a chair that’s not broken towards the large windows and find some books. By day four, you’re practically in heaven.

Day five is when your happiness breaks, however.

“So this is where you’ve buried yourself.”

You squeak and fall out of the chair where you had been laying across instead of properly sitting upright. Your book sprawls in front of you and you snatch it up. You dust off its cover and put it on the table, only for it to fall again.

You groan and then wince at the pain from your throat.

“What are you?--”

You begin to back away as San moves towards you. His fur coat sweeps along the floor, making a trail through the thick dust.

You hold up your hands in defense of yourself. “I--”

Your voice sounds like a rake over rocks and you swallow hard. San stares at you, his face blank.

You shuffle, giving San a wide berth. This causes him to lift an eyebrow at you. “Why are you acting like a skittish horse?”

You pull a face and point at your throat. You knew he wasn’t truly dumb.

San scratches the back of his neck. “Ah. About that. You see…”

You maneuver to San’s back, not interested in hearing how you were stupid, and bolt out of the library. You wish you had snatched a book but you think that might further prompt San to get angry at you.

You’re not so lucky.

“Hey, where are you going?” San shouts after you.

Your soft slippers have no grip and you are only able to slide shuffle along the floor to flee the library and the beast behind you. You can hear him pursuing you. His boots are squeaking across the worn wood of the floor.

It hurts like hell when you let out a noise of fear and slam into a wall, unable to halt your skittering. You shoot a look down the hallway and see that San is bounding down the hallway after you still.

“Wait!”

You push forward. If you make it outside, perhaps he’ll stop pursuing you?

You take the steps of the spiral dual staircase two at a time. How you manage to not trip and break your own neck is beyond you, but still you have hope as the doors are getting closer and closer.

“What is wrong with you?!”

San’s hand slams down on your shoulder and your feet shoot out in front of you as the momentum of your run looks to carry your limbs forward. You slam down on your ass and let out a squeal. You wiggle, desperate to get out of his hold. You know you’ll never win if he truly doesn’t want to let you go, but it seems you don’t want to die after all.

Your struggling only ensures that San clamps down on you more. You let out a noise of pain as his talons prick your collarbone and sternum.

San lets go of you immediately. Your hands find purchase and you push yourself up and scramble towards the doors to the outside. You think if you can make it past the fountain, you might lose yourself in one of the gardens. San usually bores of you quickly, seeing as how easy he dismisses you from dinners.

You know you’re wrong when you eat dirt. San’s body covers yours. He must have jumped on you to plant you into the ground. It’s cold and hard and you regret all your life choices that has brought you here to this moment. Mostly because you’re sure San has a weapon on him, because what was that hard thing near his hip?

“Stupid human, what are you running from?” San shouts.

All you can manage is a garbled yell in response. Your throat is burning; this is the most noise you’ve made in the weeks following your incident in the west wing.

San lets out a noise of frustration from the back of his throat and turns you around. He grabs both your wrists and pins you beneath him.

“Will you listen to me?” He snarls.

You stubbornly turn your head to the side with a huff. Hongjoong, Mingi and Yeosang come into your vision. Great, of course those three were here to see your demise at San’s hands once again.

“Perhaps if you strangle her again, she might be more inclined to listen!” Yeosang observes.

“She hasn’t gone back to the west wing since then, he’s got a point,” Mingi agrees.

“Will you two shut up?” Hongjoong commands.

“You can go in the library,” San says and your head snaps back to his face. His eyes widen for a moment and then he’s the one to avoid your gaze. “It’s not like anyone else is using it.”

You move beneath him again, attempting to raise your arms up but are unable to push back far before his hands push your arms against the ground again.

“Stop moving!” San hisses at you.

“Let…me…go!” You croak.

San presses his lips together. “I will. I will. Just. Stop. Struggling.”

You become limp like a dead fish. If that’s all it took to get him off you then you’d comply. It was cold on the ground.

San stands up, wrapping his coat around him, as if it was his comfort. What a weird gesture. You are certain he’s never cold. Otherwise, why would he walk around with just that damn jacket and no shirt under?

“I’m almost kinda sad she can’t speak any more. I miss their arguments,” Yeosang says in a stage whisper.

San turns around on his heel and is back up the stairs before Mingi can agree with Yeosang. Hongjoong, however, is staring right at you. You throw your hands up in a gesture that wonders what he’s thinking.

“Your horse is getting antsy. You should consider going on a walk with him,” Hongjoong says, completely surprising you.

Your head swivels towards where the stables are as you sit up. You're happy to see that your wrists don’t provide a matching look with your neck.

Your head turns back towards San’s back, fading into the darkness of the castle. Would he let you ride Phillip?

Hongjoong follows your gaze and clears his throat. “My lord?"

“What do you want, Hongjoong?” San’s voice is heard from the lobby.

“If Belle wishes to go on a short walk with her horse--”

“Where?” San snarls.

“Well, my lord, if you accompany her--”

“Fine!” San snaps. “Later, after dinner.”

A faint, conspiratory smile pulls at the corners of Hongjoong’s lips. “There you have it.”

You have a feeling in your gut that Hongjoong is up to something but you have no idea. Perhaps he wishes for another near-death incident to send you towards complete servitude of his lord?

And so begins another ritual of your day. As you dine in silence with San, ever unsure as to what exactly you’re eating, you go for walks with Phillipe and the beast. Even after your throat heals, you remain in silence the entire time, other than for a soft word to the only tie to your old life.

So you almost fall off Phillipe when San says he had a horse like Phillipe before.

San purses his lip to the side, unimpressed by your inability to keep your cool around him any longer.

“Wha--what was their name?” You ask.

“Her name was Beauty. She was black as night--”

You snort at the absurdity.

“...what?”

You send him a long look. “Of course your horse was black.”

“She was of the most expensive stock!” San protests.

“Of course, nothing less for our lord,” You reply.

“She was loyal to a fault. You’re lucky to have him,” San continues.

“You have the others,” you point out.

“They are not loyal,” San disagrees. “They do what I say because that is their place.”

“Well.” you lean down to pat Phillipe’s neck. “Phillipe will flee if it saves his own neck. Sometimes we’re all just scared.”

“Are you?” San asks. He reaches and grabs Phillipe’s reins, halting your walk. He stares up at you, waiting for your answer.

“I don’t want to be,” You choose to respond. “Should I be?”

“I am a beast,” San replies, as if that’s an answer in itself.

You tilt your head. “You certainly act like it.”

“I…” San falters with his words. “I haven’t had a reason to act like anything else but.”

You both remain in silence until you finish your circuit and arrive back at the castle. You wiggle off of Phillipe and are about to lead him back into the stable when San speaks up again.

“If I…act less like a beast…will you begin to speak again at dinner?”

You arrange Phillipe’s forelock. “Why would I do that?”

“Because the silence is insufferable!” San protests.

“It’s fine for me,” You reply.

“You are--” San lets out a noise of frustration. The hair on the back of your neck is the only warning you get before San grabs your arm and pulls you away from Phillipe. “I cannot kill you!”

“You have a funny way of showing it!” You shout up at him. “Let go of me!”

“No!” San shakes his head. “You only seem to listen to me if my hands are on you!”

You raise your head stubbornly but also to show your neck. “Go on then! Give me another beautiful bruise along my neck!”

San’s eyes narrow down at you. “I don’t want to strangle you.”

“Well, I want to!” You yell.

“Fine.”

You squeak as San falls to his knees. He grabs your hands and brings them to his neck. “We’ll be even, then.”

“Like I could harm you,” you mumble under your breath. “Your neck is like a tree trunk.”

“Do it,” San commands you softly.

You think about when San made you lick his boots and your hands unconsciously tighten around his throat. A sweet, soft whimper comes from San and something twists in your gut. You like it, you realize, and that makes you let him go.

As your hands drop to your sides, a slow, arrogant, crooked grin appears on San’s face. “Liked it, didn't you?”

“I am not a monster like you,” You scoff.

“Not yet,” San says.

You jolt upwards in your bed, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. Something had woken you out of a deep sleep. You hear a loud roar again and smash. What was going on?

You grab your fur coat, wrapping it around you tightly, and make your way down the tower’s winding staircase. You find San in front of the lobby’s main fireplace. His jacket is shrugged off, on the floor like a discarded skin. He’s brought one of the highback chairs close to the fire. You see his face wince as he pokes at--

“What happened?” You demand.

“More damn wolves,” San snarls. “They think they can just sweep into my territory even though I don’t mark every damn tree.”

Your bare feet move closer towards the monster that was your captor. “Are you…hurt?”

“Of course I’m hurt!” San shouts. 

He pokes at five deep gouges on his arm and then hisses at the pain it produces. 

You move to stand in front of him and see that the damage is even worse. There are bite marks on his shoulder too. “I can help--”

San’s head snaps upwards to meet your gaze with a fiery one of his own. “Why would you want to do that?”

You wave one of your hands to indicate somewhere around here were his men-at-arms. “They can fetch you the supplies but they can’t touch you, San.”

San begins to grumble under his breath. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Then consider it… repayment,” You attempt again.

“Repayment for what?” San narrows his eyes at you.

“For…my father,” You swallow down the emotion that’s constricting your throat.

“Ah.” San’s face is unreadable. “Fine.”

“My lord,” Yeosang appears from the flickering shadows. 

“Get something to boil water in,” You recommend. “And some rags. We can boil them too. Is there some alcohol?”

Whatever you ask for, Mingi delivers swiftly. The three shadowmen watch you in silence as you prepare everything you need. You take a swig of the clear alcohol first, however, and then offer it to San. The fire only highlights San’s jawline as he tips his head back and drinks down the beverage. Some rivulets spill down both sides of his mouth and trail down his neck. 

“Leave some alcohol so we can clean your wounds,” You murmur.

San lets out a lusty ‘ah!’ as he finishes drinking. “Since when are you a nurse?”

You shake your head. “I’m not. Father was just a little clumsy with his tools. I used to patch him up. Nothing worse than a finger caught in between two cogs.”

Hongjoong squeezes and dries some of the boiled rags and offers them to you when you reach out. You grab the rag with one hand and then drench San’s arm with the alcohol.

San roars in pain and snatches his arm back. “That hurt!"

“Did you expect it to feel good?” You hiss back to him.

The alcohol that spilled into the rag is used to dab at the gouges on his arm. He flinches at the pain but he keeps his mouth shut. His eyes are on you, however, you can feel them burn into you.

“Why do you hunt the wolves?” You wonder.

“Because I am a monster,” San says with arrogance. 

You tsk at him. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only answer you--are you enjoying inflicting pain on me?” He yells.

“No, I do not,” You reply in a clipped tone. “You better stay still. I have yet to get that bite on your shoulder.”

Methodically, you wrap another clean rag that’s passed to you by Mingi this time around San’s wounded arm. The shadowmen are abnormally quiet for some reason. 

“They used to scare me. As a child,” San says in such a low tone, you almost don’t catch it.

Shock runs through you but you try not to show it. Odd to think of the monster before you as a small child. Instead, you lean over San and pat at the bite marks on his shoulder. 

“So you hunt them down?” You ask.

“I show them that they do not scare me any longer,” San allows. 

Hongjoong gives you the final rag that you wrap around San’s torso. You grab his opposite shoulder to make him lean forward so you can do your work. San is being awfully docile. You’re not sure exactly what’s going on. 

“There. You’re all set.” You clap your hands in finality. 

San’s silent and now you know why he’s being so docile. The entire time you weren’t working on wrapping his shoulder up, slanting the rag from shoulder to rib cage, he was staring down your dressing gown. 

“Get a good eyeful like Mingi, hmm?” You say, nonplussed.

San’s head jerks towards Mingi, who holds his hands up in defense. “Have you been staring at her naked form Song?” he growls.

“Of course not, my lord!” Mingi protests. “I wouldn’t even think of such a thing.”

You snort at the lie. San gets up out of the chair, a growl vibrating from his lips. “If I find out you’re lying to me…”

“Mingi’s stupid, but he’s not an idiot!” Yeosang protests. “We’ll leave you two to your evening, let's go.”

The three shadowmen melt into the shadows and then it’s just you and the beast. 

“I suppose a thank you is in order,” San says gruffly. 

You shake your head. “An eye for an eye. We are balanced now, you and I.”

San tilts his head. His skin appears even more bronze in the firelight. “I would not describe us as balanced, Belle.”

Your whole body rocks backwards. You were sure that was the first time San had referred to you by your first name. Not human. Not prisoner. But Belle.

You press your lips into a thin line. “No, I don’t suppose so.”

San offers you a clawed hand and you stare at it like it’s foreign. “Come with me.”

“I just patched you up! Surely you don’t intend to throw me back into my tower! Let me warm up by the fire for a bit at least!” You protest.

San shakes his head and his hair falls in his eyes. “No, we’re going to the west wing.”

You begin to back away slowly. “San, I haven’t gone back there. I swear.”

“Just take my damn hand!” San loses his temper again.

Trembling, you place your hand in his and then he’s suddenly dragging you into the darkness. 

Your heart is in your throat. You can hardly see anything, and so you trip and almost fall, if not for the firm grip San has of your hand. He doesn’t say a word, although he does growl a few times when he has to tug you forward. 

At last, you realize he’s taken you to his room. San doesn’t let go of your hand, even as he drags you over to the small table where the rose pottery is. You peer around San’s body, the moon phases barely visible along his spine, and you see the black thing that was in the middle of the table has grown. 

You try to move forward to examine it further but San jerks you back. “Wait.”

You wait, looking at him expectantly. His face is hard, not softening his sharp features one bit. 

“There is a curse on this estate. It stems from me. I once messed with the wrong woman. This plant is my only salvation.”

“What does it mean?” You ask.

“If the plant grows--if I right my wrong--I will be broken of this curse. The land will be restored. Mingi, Yeosang and Hongjoong will be human again.”

You remember the image of San in the mirror. Without his horns and taloned hands, he looked like… You gasp and bring one of your hands to your mouth. “Then you’ll no longer be a monster?”

San shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”

“Didn’t you bring me here to try to explain?” You’re confused.

“Belle…”

“Will I be free if the curse is broken?” You wonder next.

“Free?” San turns his head towards you, his eyes unreadable. “No. Your life is tied to mine.”

“Why?!” You shout at him. “I have done absolutely nothing to you! Nothing to deserve this! I freeze every night in that tower. I have to endure your mental and physical torture. So what if you feed me and take me for walks. Am I a pet to you?”

“I--” San’s jaw snaps shut and a muscle there tenses. “You will understand eventually.”

“Well, if you don’t explain it to me, how am I to get it?” You yell. “Never mind.” 

You tear your hand out of San’s grasp and stomp out of his room. That was the last time you showed an ounce of compassion to that beast!

The next day you sequester yourself in the library. You do whatever you can to escape your current reality. You read about a woman trapped in a tower but that’s too close to your current situation. You try for another but it’s two star crossed lovers. You close the book loudly and sigh. What was with your state of mind today?

Your stomach growls but you ignore it. You refuse to do anything that would make San’s life better. You won’t give him the satisfaction of eating with him or going on a walk with Phillipe or--

The library doors burst open, bouncing off the walls with the force they are pushed open with. “What are you doing in here?” San demands, walking straight to your spot in the chair.

“You said I could be in here!” You protest.

San runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Yes I did. But what about dinner?”

“I’m not going anymore.”

San’s mouth opens and closes and then he’s scowling at you. “Yes, you are.”

You don’t know what you were thinking, but the next thing you know, you throw your book at San. It lands with a thwap on his chest and falls to the floor. “Stay away from me.”

“Belle,” San held his hands out as if to say he was harmless; as if he didn’t have claws that you’ve seen tore out wolf’s stomachs. 

“Don’t you ‘Belle’ me!” You shout at him. You try to put the chair between you and him. “I’m not going to dinner. And you can’t make me.”

“I can throw you over my shoulder and slap your ass if I so choose.” San folded his arms across his chest. “So either you get to that dining hall or I will make you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Fine. I gave you a choice.”

San lunges for you and you squeal. San’s body is cutting off your escape route to the exit so you run further into the library instead. 

San’s belly chuckle chases after you. “You wanna play this game again?”

“It’s not a game!” You shout over your shoulder. 

You begin to eye the ladders to the second level. Perhaps you might be able to clamber up before San catches up with you. You quickly grab a rung and start to haul yourself up. 

Unfortunately for you, San’s advantage in height means he’s able to grab your waist and pull you down easily. 

“Got you!” San announces triumphantly. 

Just one of his arms wrapped around you is all he needs to do to keep your arms to yourself. Except that allows you to throw everything into your leg movement. You try to drive your heel into a very sensitive area but you only manage to dig into his inner thigh. San’s singular grunt is the only acknowledgment you’re even doing anything. 

“Now, let’s get back to the dining hall,” San says.

“Let go of me!” You insist. “I will bite you.”

San chuckles under his breath. “Don’t promise me a good time.”

Despite his clear warning, the only thing in your mind is to escape San’s confines. So you lower your head as far as you can and you bite into his arm. San hisses and then he begins to cackle. “Little one, you do not know what you’re getting into.”

“I will bite a chunk out of your arm if you don’t let me go--San!”

You’re pinned against a bookshelf but it’s not like the time San slammed you against the glass door. This time one hand is splayed along your chest to keep you there and his leg is in between yours. 

Your hands grab his bicep and dig your nails into the skin there, close to where your bite marks are. When San moans, you freeze in place.

That cruel, crooked smile that blooms on his face makes your face drain of blood. 

“I’m a beast, am I not? What better to get my blood pumping than with a chase and a bite.” You swallow hard but your mouth is devoid of any moisture when San leans in close so that one of his teeth skims your ear. “What would your little talons feel as they dug into my back, Little One?”

“What are you doing?” You whisper. 

“You know the best way to help with boiling over tempers?” San purrs.

“No.”

San leans back so that he can get a good look at your face. His thigh flexes and he pushes you higher up his leg. “No?”

“You let go of me right now,” You command.

You’re scared shitless of what is happening right now. When had the thin edge of anger and spite turned over into this…?

“Are you scared?” San tilts his head. “Your heartbeat is going wild in your chest.”

“I’m not scared!” You lie through your teeth. “I want you to leave me alone!”

San shakes his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can, you great, hulking beast! Let me go right now!” You struggle and then let out a whimper as your lower half grinds against San’s leg.

San’s eyes are dark with lust. “Will you use me for your pleasure? Is that how this will work? Get yourself worked up and then I can slide between your plump thighs--”

“Stop that! No! I’m not--!” You only manage to rub yourself further against San’s thigh. You clamp your teeth down on your treacherous lips. “Remove your thigh from between my legs. You are only proving how much of a beast you truly are.”

“Then you won’t be surprised when I don’t change my tune, will you?” San murmurs before his head dips and he tilts his head.

His nails only slightly prick into your skin, almost as if he’s a cat kneading his claws into you. “Let me taste your poisonous lips.”

“San.”

“Yes?” San’s lips hover over yours. You can feel his moist breath on your lips. If you even push out your lips too far, you’ll meet his.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too,” San agrees and then presses his lips to yours.

He’s very careful with his fangs but that doesn’t stop him from playing his tongue against yours. He’s almost hungry for the kiss but you don’t have any thoughts to spare towards the why of this. It’s all you can do to keep up with his pace, unsure why exactly this feels so perfect. 

San breaks the kiss, his tongue remaining out of his mouth, and a string of spit breaks between the two of you. “I will have you, here and now.”

“You will not!” You squeal. 

San grabs one of your hands and presses it against his pelvis. He is throbbing under his thin pants, twitching in your hand. You cast aside the feeling of empowerment it gives you immediately. “I will.”

“We can’t--you are--the others--” 

Your mind races but you can’t settle on a good and true reason as to why this can’t happen. Who was going to walk in on you? The shadowmen? They wouldn’t dare, with the way San threw a fit when he heard about Mingi spying on you. By the feeling of your lower half, you knew that you weren’t opposed to it. But this beast was--you hated him! Didn’t you?

“Throw your anger at me, Little One. I can take it.”

San tilts his head in the opposite direction and tempts you with another kiss. This time he carefully nips your lower lip and when you gasp as he fully grips it between his teeth and pulls slightly. 

Your hand, still pressing against San’s erection, pushes harder against his length and he groans for you. 

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” San instructs you. 

Against your better judgement, you do exactly that. Your skirts push over your hips and it’s simply your hose and garter and nothing else in view. 

San’s fevered brow presses against yours as he takes it in. “You’re so tiny.”

“I…” You gulp and say more to yourself than anyone. “Babies come from there. Surely you’ll fit.”

San lets out a laugh that reverberates through his chest. “I have a feeling it will be a perfect fit for you.”

Before you can ask him what the hell he’s talking about, his taloned hands deftly undo the buttons to his pants and he pushes them down to his knees. He’s straining against his stomach. You can practically see the veins pulsing with need along his shaft. His cockhead is angry and red. He’s nothing like the arrogant Jongho that fucked you in your village. 

San takes a step back, if only to press both of his hands to your lower back. Your cunt lips press against his cock shaft with a very embarrassing, wet noise. It only entices San to look down at you with hooded eyes. “How delicious will the press of my cock be to your cunt?”

“Only one time, San,” You say as you lick your lips. 

San laughs deep in his throat. It almost sounds pained to your ears. “I have a feeling I won’t be able to quit you after one time.”

You flex your thighs so that you can hover over San’s mushroom cockhead. It splits you easily enough but it’s a stretch. He’s just so thick. His thumbs brush over the dimples in your back, soothing you. 

“Take your time.”

How you manage to endure sinking down on him, inch by inch, blows your mind. But you do it and soon your body adjusts to his thickness. “I--San--be careful.”

“Like fine china,” San murmurs under his breath. 

With one hand braced against the bookcase, he crooks his hips and you whimper. He takes his time with you but it quickly goes from worry to frustration. Your cunt is aching and he seems to be torturing and tempting you, as if he wants you to commit to memory how he feels inside of you; every damn inch of him. 

“You!” You gasp and start to roll your hips.

“Too much?” San smirks at you.

“Not. Enough.”

San's hand moves to squeeze your waist. “You said to be careful.”

“I need more,” You growl.

“I don't think you can handle more.”

You both watch as San pulls out, your inner lips gliding along as if beckoning his cock to not leave. 

“Faster,” You urge, wrapping your legs more firmly to get leverage. “Harder.”

“But you're such a fragile human.”

San eyes roll wildly. The whites of his eyes flash and you hold your breath as his hand finds your neck again. You squeeze your eyes shut and for a moment, you think, this will be the end of you. San's hand squeezes but you are still able to breathe. Each whistle of air into your lungs was sweet and lovely. But your end never came.

San's hips slam into you and you let out a choked cry. You're stuffed, truly fully stuffed and it feels like heaven.

Your air starts to come out in hammered puffs because of the way San is thrusting into you. Your brain goes blank and all you can focus on is the pending pleasure pouring through you. 

San lets go of your throat, if only to lean in to bury his face in the crook of your neck. His fangs play along the thin skin of your neck and you gasp. The lack of air seems to have heightened your senses. Everything feels more. 

“You're doing so well,” San praises you. “I told you; we’re a perfect fit.”

“San,” You moan his name. It's the only word you can form.

“Are you ready, Little One? You had better be coming because after I unload in you, I don't think I'll be able to stop,” San admits in a husky tone.

“In me?” You say in alarm.

“You needn't worry,” San hums. “I'm infertile for a human.”

You whimper as your climax builds. You wrap your arms behind San’s neck. “I need to come.”

San’s hands curl around your ass and legs from behind you and he untangles your legs around his waist. Your back scrapes the spines of some books as your body weight is forced back so that San can focus on pounding into you.

Your cries come out more urgently. Your climax is coming. You begin to chant San’s name, each single syllable coming out more whiny than the last. And when it finally bursts over you, you hold in your breath. 

Your walls fluttering around San is all he needs to ram into you with one swift thrust and twitch inside of you. You know you're in trouble when you can feel him dripping out of you--quickly and in copious amounts. He's dripping sweat onto your dress and he blinks hard like there's a threat of his soaked hair going to blind him. His lips are pink and plush. His eyes are dark but clear. You’ve never beheld him so…unguarded but also so natural. It was as if all his walls were down and after sex, he was in his true form.

“You're not leaving my bed for anything,” San pants.

“We're not in your bed right now, San,” You deadpan.

“Not yet.”

San pulls you off of him and sets you down. You can feel your face heat up as his cum dribbles down your thighs. Thank god for your dress settling down otherwise you were sure the sight of it would send you to an early grave. 

Once the beast does up his pants, he sweeps you up into his arms. “Your tiny legs can’t keep up with mine,” He growls and then he’s leaving the library and moving down the hallway toward the west wing.

Was he truly bringing you to his bed? This beast, that was so hot and cold with you, so careful to feed you crumbs of his life, was taking you to his inner sanctum…again? What was it that he was so sure you needed to know but also wanted to keep you away from?

Your inner thoughts come to a halt as San closes the doors to his room and he carefully dispatches you to his bed. It’s a bundle of worn blankets but it’s almost cozy in its chaos.

One of his claws catches on your dress to draw it upwards and he groans at the sight of his cum running down your legs. Before you can stop him, his tongue is cleaning you up. Your thighs are now wet with his saliva and he dives head first into your cunt.

“S-san!” You protest. You’re still sensitive from your orgasm and besides, his fangs!!

It was a mistake to call his name while he was between your thighs. His dark eyes roll up to meet yours but his tongue doesn’t stop. No, the beast continues to push in and out of your hole, his own cum seeping onto his pink tongue. 

You whimper at the sight and swallow to no avail. “You are disgusting.”

San only stops tongue-fucking you to say, “You just fucked a beast, what else would you expect?”

Your hands dive into his hair when his tongue finds your clit. He flattens his tongue and worries back and forth on your clit. Your legs close around his head but he patiently pushes your legs back to be spread on the bed. Your hands migrate to his horns. You wrap each hand around the twisted, obsidian horns and push him further into you. 

“San, San,” You whimper his name, bucking your hips up into his face. 

“Stay still, you’re going to--” San begins to growl but is interrupted by a sharp gasp from yourself. 

One of his fangs catches on your sensitive flesh. You watch as San’s pupils blow, seeing the blood on your cunt. And he dives right back in to lick it up. Soon, you forget the pain as he begins to suck on your clit eagerly. You whine because you can’t rock up against his face but your climax comes again, bursting through you like fireworks. 

You pant as the beast climbs up your body. His face is covered in your cum, and it’s tinged rose with your blood, and still he kisses you. His tongue tangles with yours, your cum rubbing onto your face. You grab the back of his head and return the kiss. You feel utterly debauched but you can’t help the fire that’s burning in your stomach. It’s not even quenched after two orgasms, in fact, it’s inflamed for more.

“I--I haven’t eaten all day, we can’t--”

San presses his hand to your chest and pins you back to the bed. “I will get you something. You stay here.”

“Nonsense! Two arms can carry back more--” You push upwards but San only pushes you back again. 

“I told you that you wouldn’t leave my bed for anything and I meant it,” San growls. 

“You…you trust me alone here?” You can’t help but ask.

San’s eyes flit around, suddenly unable to meet your gaze. “It’s fine.”

You send him a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? You almost killed me for the same thing months ago!”

“It’s--”

“No!” You shout at him. “You’re not allowed to do this anymore. You can’t keep letting me in and then telling me that there’s a closet that I can’t open. I won’t do this anymore, San.”

San settles onto the side of the bed, his back to you. He turns his head to speak over his shoulder. “I can’t tell you. It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t. It’ll ruin everything. Be angry all you want. I can’t risk it all.”

And for once, you feel like he’s genuinely telling you the truth. As vague as it was. 

“Is it the curse?” You ask, putting a hand on his shoulder. Which draws your attention to his tattoo that runs the length of his spine. You trace the trail down his skin and his back muscles tense. “What does it all mean? And what does it have to do with me? And what about the ghost?”

San spins around and grabs your hand. “What ghost?”

You smile briefly and then shake your head. “I was delusional. It’s nothing.”

“Stay in my bed. I will bring you food. Then I will devour you some more.” You swear you see an excited smile on his face but San is gone from the room before you can confirm.

True to his word, you remain in San’s room--and his bed--for three whole days. He can only endure you to leave to relieve yourself and even then, he barely lets you take one step into the room before he’s carrying you back to his bed and slotting his body between your legs. 

You’ve lost the sense of where you end and San begins. All you know is the feeling of his hands on your body. You only know the scent of his musk as your face is buried into his muscular shoulder. The taste of his cum is the only flavor you know, no matter how much water you drink. He is the only thing you know, utterly and truly. 

Then, on the fourth day, something miraculous happens.

“San, your plant.” You point a finger to the rose pottery on the singular table by the balcony.

San launches himself out of bed and bounds towards the table. His eyes widen in extreme disbelief and he falls to his knees. 

“You’ve done it,” he whispers.

You crawl towards the foot of the bed, drawing a blanket over your naked body. There is a full rose that has bloomed from the pot. You aren’t certain but you are pretty sure roses don’t grow that quickly. And besides… why was this one black?

“I’ve done nothing but fuck you for the past three days, San. What are you talking about?”

“Get dressed,” San says excitedly. “We have to gather the others.”

“With what clothes, San, you keep ripping them off me,” You grumble. 

San grins and then he’s out the door, hollering for his shadow men.

“What’s got him so… what in the nine hells?” Mingi’s eyebrows are furrowed in utter confusion. “When did that happen?”

San is back with Yeosang on his heels. San has what looks like a dress in one hand, which he throws to the bed. “Mingi, Yeosang, go find Hongjoong and go to the ballroom. Belle, get dressed. Quickly!”

The shadow men are gone upon command and you quickly pull the dress over your head. “Why the ballroom?”

“Because that’s where it all began.” San’s face is pinched with past pain. 

The dress you wear is wonderous canary yellow, one that seems orange and red depending on where the sun hits. “San, what’s going on?”

San pulls you in for a tight hug and you freeze in his embrace, stiff and unsure. “All your questions will be answered. It’s finally happening.”

The five of you stand apace in the ballroom. San encapsulates your head in between his huge hands. Your whole world narrows down to just him, once again. 

“You have accepted me completely. For that, I can only repay you by committing my life to you.”

“San, what--”

“Once upon a time there was a beast who was cruel and handsome. He loved the power he held as a beast,” San murmurs to you.

“You… you were born like this?”

“The beast lived as he pleased. He wooed anyone and anything. He played with their hearts and bodies. And when he was bored of them, he discarded them.”

You knew San was cruel, you had been subject to such cruelty. But the way he was telling this story was making you feel uneasy.

“One day, his lover whom he had passed amongst his subordinates, revealed she was a witch. With her heartbroken, and her body used, she cursed the four men. The men at arms would become shadowmen, never able to touch another human ever again. And the beast…”

San’s eyes are dark and unreadable. They are like pools of water that never end, the deep dark water that never sees the light of day. 

“The beast had a very special curse placed on him. Every generation his soulmate would be born. And every time they were destined to cross paths. But if he was unable to woo her, to truly love her, to let her take his heart in return, then the curse would remain. The beast would never leave his estate. The men at arms would never know another’s touch. And some poor soul would be born over and over again, at the mercy of a beast’s black heart.”

“Are you saying I’m your soulmate? How did you know?”

A slow, crooked smile grows on San’s face. He appears… crazed, like he had been in the library. “Your father brought you to me.”

You deny this immediately. “My father would never!”

“Why do you think the sudden trip to sell his clocks came to be, Belle?”

“My father is scatter brained, San, he does this all the time. All of sudden he’ll decide to sell all his clocks. There’s hardly a pattern.”

“I’ll tell you why your father brought you to me.” San’s grin is stretched from ear to ear. He is maniacal. “You killed your lover. Your father saw your true form. He knew of the myth of the cursed beast. He was bringing you to me when the wolves attacked. The attack triggered your other form. You killed almost everyone and everything. I couldn't save your father. But he made me promise to keep you confined to the estate so you wouldn’t hurt anyone else. And it worked. For a time.”

There’s a small buzzing in your ear and you feel like you’re about to faint.

“See, I’m impatient to see my soulmate’s true form become her permanent form. So I provoked you. Treated you like horse manure on my boot. Ordered the others to do the same. The mirror  that first dinner showed you the truth: that you were a true monster. It’s why I cancelled the dance to woo you. You are not like the other ones. My true soulmate is connected with me. I am a beast. And so are you. ”

You shook your head. “You lie.”

“I…I thought you might risk the curse, might find a way to fuck it up. I let my anger get to me that night I almost killed you. I regretted that. Immensely. No other soulmate transformed before coming to me. You were the first. So, instead of attempting to provoke the beast side of you, I decided to learn who you were. The reading took me by surprise but you seemed to find solace in that room. But you triggered the beast side of me once again. Running away like a little white rabbit that is great prey? Writhing that sweet body of yours against mine as I pinned you to the ground?” San licks his lips lecherously. “You were tempting me.”

“But you still had to fall in love with me, the beast. The walks with your horse were good days for me. You reminded me of what life was like before this curse. The difference was that I wanted that life… with you. I provoked your other form again when I prompted you to choke me. That night you fixed me up? That wasn’t the wolves, my darling, that was you. You in your glorious form, rising from her slumber. We fought and it was grand. You won though. I may have been a little frustrated that you took me. But that’s when I decided that perhaps if I told you just the little of the curse that I could, that perhaps… perhaps everything might swing my way.”

San runs a taloned hand through his hair and completes the motion by curling them around his horn as well. He laughs to himself. “I should have known our bodies becoming one was the final key. What better truth exists than when two bodies join? There are no secrets then.”

“I see I was wrong.”

The ghost from before appears before you. You’ve already guessed it, she was the witch, trapped in her own curse on these lands. 

“Your heart is blacker than San’s. Bravo.”

You feel wetness on your face and you realize that you’re crying. It was like your body knew the truth already. Everything San said fit in place, like clockwork inside the creations your father made. The father you killed. You killed Jongho too. You were a monster. No wonder San was your soulmate. 

The rose that Hongjoong holds bursts and a wave of black passes through everyone and everything in the room. The ghost disappears. The air feels different.

“Yeosang!” Mingi shouts.

The shadowman is losing his shadow. Yeosang lifts his arms and watches in wonder as his clothes appear back on his body. The same happens to Mingi and Hongjoong. With a trembling hand, Mingi reaches out and puts his hand on Hongjoong’s chest. 

“We’re free,” Hongjoong whispers in disbelief. 

San pulls off his fur jacket and looks over his shoulder. The moon phase tattoo is fading as well. He lets the jacket drop to the floor and looks at you expectantly. 

“Wha--?” 

You suddenly scream in pain. Your skull feels like it’s going to split in two. Just as you bring your hands to your face, you gaze in horror as your nails lengthen and sharpen. You reach upwards to your head, already aware of what you’ll find. You choke on a sob when your fingers find horns sprouting from your head.

“There she is, my soulmate,” San announces. 

“I’m a monster,” You repeat to yourself.

Suddenly, everything clicks into place and you feel a new self settle over your shoulders.

“We can never repay you, Belle,” Mingi admits wistfully. “Maybe now--”

Your claw rips Mingi’s face off his skull. It flaps uselessly in your hand and you let it drop to the floor. 

“You’ll be the first to die, you horrible peeping tom,” You promise. 

You punch your hand through Mingi’s stomach, grab his spine and rip it out from his body. Mingi is dead instantly. It’s a pity, he should have suffered longer.

So you don’t make the same mistake with Hongjoong. You cut off Hongjoong’s balls and feed it to him. You make him chew each one and swallow them as he bleeds out. He cries soundlessly to himself and it makes your heart soar.

Yeosang appears mentally broken. Perhaps too much change at once? Either way, you decide to break his limbs inch by inch until he is simply a soggy sack of pebbles. You wish he screamed; you had a feeling you were missing out on the screams. 

And through it all, San stands there, and lets you have your fun. 

You point your finger at your soulmate. “You get in our bed right now. I will fuck you with the blood of my enemies on my skin.”

“What is my punishment, my love?” San appears eager and insane and nothing has appealed to you more in your entire life. 

You wrap your hands around San’s neck, still thick as a tree, but now with your talons and your monstrous strength, he’s a tree that could snap for you. You feel power throughout your body and you know what you’re capable of doing. 

“Your punishment is to know that I’ll be a better monster than you ever could be. You’ll always play second fiddle to me, San. Now and forever.”

“Yes, Love.”

San follows you as you stalk back towards the bedroom you proclaimed as yours like an eager puppy. What you saw in the mirror was the utter truth: you were the beast and San was the beauty.

How ironic.

[captain-huggy-bear]

"Do you think we're cursed?" Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Feel free to request for Mattie or even write for him yourself. Writing Masterlist

He's slumped over in the locker room when you find him after the game. Broad shoulders pulled inwards like he might be able to make himself smaller, might be able to hide away, as he stares at his hands. He looks exhausted, dark circles underneath shifting brown and green eyes, a bruise already forming on his cheek from a fight with Chris Lucas that ended in a 5 minute power play for the Reapers.

You know what Mattie is like...he takes every loss so personal, it doesn't help that the Reapers have been without a good win for what feels like months...it's starting to wear him down, whether he's good enough to be captain or not, whether he's leading them to failure. He blames himself for each loss whether regulation or overtime.

When he looks up at you his hair is wild, dark curls falling cross his forehead haphazardly and his eyes are just as wild, like you hold the answer to everything.

"Do you think we're cursed?"

"Well..." You hesitate, stepping close enough for Mattie to grip you by the hips and pull you closer. He tugs until you're stood between his thighs looking down on him, until you're close enough that you can count the freckles across his face and see the sweep of his long eyelashes.

"Be honest with me, princess...I can take it."

You're not sure he can, hands reaching up to push his curls away from his face, tucking them behind his ears. It's the way he seems to slump into your touch, like you're a cool drink after wandering through a desert, that makes you doubt how much resilience he has in that moment. It was one thing to know you were losing, another to have your girlfriend point it out.

"Are...are you sure? You don't look like you can take it..."

"That's because I just spent 30 minutes on the ice and had a 4 minute shift...and got my shit rocked by Chris Lucas..." He spits the other man's name out like the forward for the Michigan Blaze is poison on his tongue and you know how he feels. Watching him get beat on wasn't fun, you'd screamed your voice raw about the unfairness, and even though Lucas was expelled from the game...it didn't make it easier to see.

"Well...I think we need to do an exorcism on the team. Maybe get some candles? A priest?" You suggest, fingers running back through his curls as he closes his eyes at the sensation. His shoulders starting to relax as his fingers grip tighter to your hips, palms running up and over and back and forth a few times.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm, but I don't think you're cursed..." You hum, letting him pull you into his lap, sitting across his thighs. Like always he takes it easy and in his stride, a big man who prides himself on being able to shift you about whenever, wherever and however he wants. Prides himself on you not worrying if you're too much, too heavy.

"No?"

"No, baby, I just think you're carrying them a little too much right now." Mattie blinks up at you, and you can't help but smooth the bags under his eye, avoiding the sore bruise on his cheek as much as possible.

"5 game loss streak...in September we had a 6 game win streak...how the fuck..." You let him curl his face into your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck like he might be able to hide from the reality of captaining a team that might not even make it to the playoffs at the moment.

"You need team bonding."

"Board games?" He huffs a laugh into your neck, pressing a little kiss there because he can...because even if the whole situation is fucking shit, you make everything a little easier. Whether it's making jokes or running your hands through his hair or just sitting so close to him that he feels like he's not so alone. He can't help but pull you tighter into him on his lap, arms wrapping tight around you like you might decide to get up at leave.

"I was thinking a dungeons and dragons session, if you can't communicate after that...well, might as well put me on the ice."

You grin a little at his laugh, the way his breath tickles your neck and you bounce slightly on his thighs. You might not be a hockey player, a coach or a miracle worker, but this? Cheering him up? That you can do.

"You know...if I wasn't scared of you getting hurt...I'd put you out there, baby."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, think you'd wipe the floor with them, princess. Just bite their ankles." He pulls away from your neck to grin up at you, all toothy and silly, that one curl falling across his forehead. You gasp, pretending to be offended, hands pushing on his shoulders to 'pull away'. Not that he lets you go anywhere, arms firm and solid around you.

"Hey! That's rude!"

"What? You're my little ankle biter," Mattie nuzzles into your cheek, feeling soft and languid, choosing to forget the loss and focus on you. On the way you huff at him, the way you pout at his accusations, the warmth of you in his arms.

"I've never bitten your ankles."

"No, just my arm, my neck, my lips, my ear...."

"Shut up," It's endearing the way you hide your face in the crook of his neck, your skin practically scalding hot against his in your embarrassment.

There's a period of silence, just the sound of both your breaths and the way your clothes shift against each other as you curl together in the locker room. Everyone else is gone and he's glad because that means he can hold you as long as he wants without one of his teammates yapping at him about it and calling him whipped. Which he is. He knows he is.

People look at him and assume he's not that soft, assume that maybe he's a bit of a player, but really? Really, he's totally just smitten with you and he couldn't care less if that ruins his reputation as a hit maker on the ice.

Mattie pulls you out of his neck, just enough for him to cup your cheeks and tilt your face, just enough so that your eyes meet his and he can smile at you all soft and sweet. Like you've turned him into a trained house pet (you have, you've practically domesticated him).

"I love you...y'know that?" The way you bite your lip and look away just for a second is adorable, that after all this time you still get a little awkward and a little bashful when he tells you that he loves you. The truth is you still don't quite believe it, that the man in front of you can love you that much, so much that he never fails to mention it, that he'll say it in front of anyone and everyone, unashamed.

"I know. I love you too, y'know?"

"Even when I'm losing?" He says it like a joke, but you can hear the real question in his words...like he truly thinks you might not want him anymore if he doesn't win. You only care that he wins for his sake, you're not dating him because his team is winning or losing or anything in between. You're dating him.

"You could lose every game for the rest of your career and I'd still love you, Matthew."

"Keep talking like that and I'll make you my wife."

"As if you weren't planning on it anyway."

"...True, you're my ankle biter, can't let anyone else have you."

[morganbritton132]

17 year old CEO Tim Drake sending out a company wide email letting the board of directors know that he won’t be in the meeting this afternoon because he’s going to the DMV to get his driver’s license. Lucius Fox will be there in his place.

This is the third time he’s missed a meeting for this reason. Also the third time he’s sent this email to everybody in the directory.

[quietwingsinthesky]

crucial to the vision that lucifer does not actually like. make up for torturing sam. or possessing castiel. or some other third thing he did to dean. it’s just that he’s mary’s boytoy now and they can’t kick him off the team because of it.

[girlivealwaysbean]

so tired of being a shitty bandaid for my parents' loneliness. like have u ever considered you passed your curse to me and some days i feel so lonely it's like i can't breathe around the emptiness in my chest????

[waywardsalt]

i don’t think i could survive a serious conversation about my own elden ring build the last time i played i spent like thirty minutes at my favorite rune grinding spots until i got enough for two more levels somewhere in the level ~210 range and put them both into endurance for a whopping 72 endurance now

[skrunksthatwunk]

still thinking about how one of my first yyh meta posts got reblogged onto an sjw cringe comp blog in the year of our woke 2022. truly tumblr dot com, the last bastion of progressivism, has fallen (<- sarcasm) and also i'm kinda baffled that they didn't choose like. me putting yusuke in a skirt or something

[bladeofthestars]

.

[anonymusbosch]

really truly Feelings about coming back to my hometown and seeing it as an outsider (I only knew it as a child with my motion constrained by school and parents and being under 18) and an outsider (it's changed since I've been away these last 8 years) and an outsider (showing it to my partner and finding it both familiar and unfamiliar, and special and inadequate) and an outsider (my parents and sister have all moved and my childhood home is no longer mine - staying in a building with a door code to learn and furniture still being moved in) and an outsider (my favorite places have changed, moved, closed, repainted) and an outsider (new murals! new buildings! new bike lanes) and an outsider (how the Fuck do the bike lanes on the east bank connect) and an outsider (it's changed [you can never step in the same river twice] and I have too)

[panb1mbo]

i played chess against this AI based off a real chess player who was some famous athlete and anyway he TAUNTED ME? made like one mistake and still kicked his ass and this computer man was making fun of me like no one's business. YES he hurt my feelings but he also made me want to leave his metaphorical entrails spitefully splattered all over the fucking board. "oh, so you've been watching film?" NO. i watched the queens gambit like once bc anya taylor joy and drugs seems like a fun mix, remembered i like chess and refused to learn any specific plays just like i did when i was a child. i play chess sir. i never said i take it seriously.

[twinliches]

my family is fucking addicted to macgyvering and it's becoming a problem. every time something in this house breaks, instead of doing the sensible thing of replacing it or calling someone qualified to fix it, we all group around the offending object with a manic look in our eyes and everyone gets a try at fixing it while being cheered on or ridiculed by the rest.

it's a beautiful bonding activity, but the "creative" fixes have turned our house into a quasihaunted escape room like contraption where everything works, but only in the wonkiest of ways. you need a huge block of iron to turn on the stove. the oven only works if a specific clock is plugged in. the bread machine has a huge wood block just stapled to it that has become foundational to its function. sometimes when you use the toaster the doorbell rings. and that's just the kitchen.

it's all fun and games until you have guests over and you have to lay out the rules of the house like it's a fucking board game. welcome to the beautiful guest room. don't pull out the couch yourself you need a screwdriver for that, and that metal rod makes the lamp work so don't move it. it also made me a terrifying roommate in college, because it makes me think i can fix anything with enough hubris and a drill. you want to call the landlord about a leaky faucet? as if. one time my dad made me install a new power socket because we ran our of extension cords

[tonycries]

You'll Taste Me Too! - G.S.

Synopsis. How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, office AU, enemies to lovers, jealousy (Gojo’s side), FAKE DATING, PAST Naoya x reader, creampíes, breéding, oraI (fem receiving), spítting, hot springs, cúmplay, DOWN BAD Satoru, tensíon, he’s a bit mean, revenge on your ex, ambiguous office work, exhíbitionísm, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 11.9k (this was supposed to be HALF that)

A/N. This type of annoying Gojo is always so fun to write, hope y’all have a great week <3

In all your three years as head of the marketing department, it wasn’t any of the tight deadlines or the nervous interns that drove you crazy. Hell, it wasn’t even the fact that the coffee maker in the break room only made tea. 

No, the one thing you couldn’t stand - the one thing that had you contemplating whether your transfer was really worth it - came in the form of the 6’3, cloudy-haired manchild who headed the sales department. 

The one person who’d made it his personal mission to toy with your sanity as soon as you’d stepped foot into the cleancut office of Jujutsu Enterprises. 

The bane of your existence. 

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Huh?” you gape stupidly, and if this was any other time you’d have smacked yourself for the unprofessionalism. 

Yaga nods gravely - almost sympathetic - as if he honestly couldn’t fault you for your reaction. “Yes, since this upcoming contract relies heavily on collaboration between the marketing and sales departments, Satoru here-” He nods at the tangle of long limbs that’d been draped dramatically over the seat right next to you. “-will be accompanying you on your trip to Kyoto…unfortunately.”

“What do you mean ‘accompanying’-”

“The fuck do you mean ‘unfortunately’-”

Your supervisor heaves out a tired sigh over your flurry of protests, rubbing his temples, “Look, I wouldn’t have picked out your ah- duo either. But as heads of department, you two are the best and brightest we have. And the board believes we can snag the infamous Gakuganji and his protegé easily as clients with the combination of you both.” 

“But-” you sputter out. “Can’t I go with Nanami like I usually do? Surely he’s a better option than a pompous, no-good nepo-”

“And I’d rather go alone.” Gojo cuts through smoothly, flashing a cocky wink your way. “Sorry, sweetheart, but even my charm won’t be enough to stop you from scaring that client off.”

Fuck unprofessionalism. If looks could kill, the leveled glare you shoot the man at your side is enough to bury him six feet and have you dancing on his grave already. 

You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Now fully facing Gojo for the first time since you’d first entered Yaga’s stuffy office, “Oh yeah, and aren’t you the one that got reprimanded for sleeping through the last company meeting we had?”

“D-did not.” his cheeks tinge with a delicate strawberry pink.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.” you scoff, brows furrowing when you realize you’ve inched just a bit closer than appropriate. Your knees knocking against his, yet you don’t pull away out of stubborness. “What? Too embarrassed to admit your oh-so-great ‘charm’ was in the pillows?”

Almost mockingly, he’s copying your posture, tight white shirt straining over those biceps he didn’t hesitate to infuriatingly flex any time you came around. Minty breath wafting over your cheeks when he leans in to murmur lowly - just loud enough that Yaga won’t question, “No, but you would be happy to know that it is in the sheets.”

You blink, though, you can’t really be too surprised - of course, Gojo turns the conversation into something so filthy. He always does.

But before you can spit out a few venomous expletives you really would regret saying in front of Yaga, the man himself interrupts your argument with a pointed cough. “Since the chemistry is as lively as ever,” he’s deadpanning dryly. “I take it you both will be on your best behavior for these three days, and come back with a signed contract.”

Chemistry your ass. 

And though he’s addressing you both, you feel a stab of smug satisfaction when Yaga’s gaze lock with an amused Gojo’s. 

“Mhm, of course we’ll come back successful - how could you not with the star employee on this trip.” he motions airily in your direction. You stiffen, not expecting the compliment when- “And of course our cute resident hardass will be there, too.”

“You little fu-”

“Great!” Yaga claps his hands, a signal you knew meant to get the hell out of his office before he assigns more overtime. “It’s settled then, your tickets have been booked for tomorrow and I assume you both have been emailed the appropriate information?”

Nodding, you make your way to leave - and find that Gojo is waiting, glass door to the office held open for you. With a sharp click of your tongue, you bite down on whatever words come to your throat, barely out of the office before you hear a tired warning behind you, “And please don’t try to kill each other, our insurance doesn’t cover it.” 

When you’re both out in the hallway, Gojo flashes you a cocky smirk and an even cockier “You heard the man.” Pointing at his unfairly pretty features - not that you’d admit that in a million years. “After all, my face is insured but who’d want to hurt this handsome-”

“I could.” You interrupt, rolling your eyes. “Easily. And I would, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that this job pays well.” Something you say every time he prances around in your department during breaks, bragging about how you’re “all bark but no bite.”

Satoru only chuckles, raising his hands up in surrender when you continue, “Let’s just get through these three days, ace the contract, and never speak of this again. Okay?”

To your surprise, he’s grabbing one of your hands with his much larger ones - soft, you gulp, noting involuntarily. “I like what goes on in that pretty lil’ brain of yours, silly girl. Then, let’s charm the asses off that dumbass client and the board of elders~”

Everyone in the office knew of the strange little dynamic between you two - found it to be the utmost entertainment they got in the workday. But you were damned if you let it mess up this contract. 

If you two survived the entire three days, that is. 

---

You two were not surviving the entire three days - or the contract deal, for that matter. Hell, you couldn’t even survive this first day. 

“Gojo I told you.” you squint at the glossy paper. “It says platform eight. I know you can’t see without those ugly sunglasses of yours but-”

A big arm comes up suddenly behind your shoulders, snatching the train ticket clean out of your hands. Gojo lets it rest there as he exclaims, “Let me see. Now, y’know if this was me, I’d have chosen Gran class. Ichiji in finances really skimped out buying these second class seats, gonna hafta have a word with him when we get back…”

You narrow your eyes, frantically trying to push back that strange part of you that almost wanted to lean in closer to the hit of his piney, expensive cologne. “Have fun bullying him, you leech.”

To which he only responds with a syrupy giggle, “Oh, don’t worry.” And you let out a tiny gasp when he flicks your forehead softly. “You’ll be right there in first class with me. Even with that bratty attitude of yours, the ladies love those Gojo perks.”

“Mhm explains why you’ve been single for all three years I've had the misfortune of knowing you.” you hiss, eyes desperately darting about for directions to platform eight. You were going to get on this train - with or without him. Preferably without him.

So absorbed in your mission that if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that Gojo’s words were a pitch higher than normal when he retorts with a strangled, “S-so what? Keepin’ an eye on me, sweetheart?”

And you knew the two of you definitely looked like a peculiar sight - Gojo’s dangling off of you like a ragdoll, surrounded by the few comically large suitcases that were mainly his. So much for a three-day work trip. Your face burns at the few weary salary workers that gave the two of you a very wide berth while going about their daily commutes. Fuck, you couldn’t even ask anyone for help at this point if you both looked at like some safety hazard. 

“Did you find it?” You huff when the silence lingers a bit too long - jumping when you raise your head up to find his burning stare already inches away from you. “God- I take it back, please keep those glasses on.”

“Hey!”

You’re digging your elbow into his side now, words stumbling over the other in a heated hurry, “And get- get off we’re gonna miss this-”

“It really is you, huh?”

All at once, you’re reminded that strangely it isn’t just the two of you causing ruckus in the middle of the Shinjuku station. Unfortunately. 

Any and all previous irritation at Gojo wipes away, flooding back as full, unbridled rage when you’re tearing your eyes away from the nuisance beside you to look up and-

Oh. 

Dammit, you knew you’d recognize that grating voice anywhere - and for the first time, it wasn’t Gojo’s.

“Naoya.”

“You.” 

Still didn’t even have the decency to address you properly, huh? You bite your lower lip, unaware what to say next. But luckily you didn’t have to - because Gojo is standing up straighter, features smoothing into a mask of cool appraisal when he sweeps his eyes down at the other man. 

Finally, Naoya seems to notice him. Flickering quickly between the arm still firmly around your shoulder and his darkened stare. “And who are you?”

“Could ask ya the same thing, two-tone.” he smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. And you swear you could feel the soft pads of his fingers tightening, digging in through your silky work shirt. “What business do you have with us?”

Us - you didn’t miss the emphasis. 

Evidently, Naoya didn’t either, because his tone turns into a low, dangerous simper as he continues. “What? Can’t a man come up just to catch up with a fling?”

Gojo’s jaw clenches as he watches you register the word. Fling. Sure, after about a year of dating, the two of you didn’t have the cleanest break up - with the constant fights and him wanting to uproot your life and dream career with his new job transfer. But still. 

“Of course, he can.” Gojo raises a snowy brow, buttons on his shirt straining when he puffs his chest out ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but notice that he has much more than a few inches on your ex. Gruffing out, “But not when she’s with her new boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?

You freeze the word running around over and over in your hazy mind - boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend-

“And trust me, she’s long forgotten your sorry ass.” You’re jolting back to reality only when you feel the slow, soothing glide of Gojo’s thumb at the exposed skin of your shoulder. He looks down at you with that familiar mirthful smile to say, “Isn’t that right, my girl?”

“Ah uh-” you’re mentally kicking yourself for not choosing to attend those acting lessons in college for extra credit. Coughing out what you hope to be a believable, “Yeah, this is G-Satoru, my- my boyfriend.”

But your coworker takes it all in concerning stride, pulling you flush against his toned chest, rumbling with the muse of “Mhm, and we’re very happy together.” You honestly feel like you’re about to fall weakly to your knees right then and there in the station when you feel the distinct pressure of two soft, plump lips grazing fleetingly at your forehead. Murmuring into your hairline, “Going on a couples’ trip to Kyoto this very moment, in fact.”

“I see.” Naoya levels out, and by the sharp glint in his eyes you already knew the gears on his head were turning. But before you could question him any further, the melodic voice of the railway announcer cuts through the tense air. “Ah- that’s me. And as pleasant as this reunion was, Kurama onsen doesn’t wait.” Before clapping a hand on the shoulder of the uncharacteristically silent Gojo stood by your side, “I wish you the best with your relationship, she’s only good the first few times after all.” His next words are cold and directed at you. “I’ll text ya, if you still don’t have me blocked, that is.” 

Saved by the train - and your fist gripping onto Gojo’s button-up, Naoya saunters to climb aboard the train currently entering the nearby platform. 

Leaving the both of you in that whirling, unfamiliar silence. Gojo’s arm is still burning around your shoulder, your muscles still aching from stopping him from powerfully lunging after the other man.

You break first. 

“Why…why did you do that.” you mutter over the bustling crowds - more to yourself than him, so you’re surprised when he responds just as hastily. 

“It’s just- Because he was a dick.” Gojo’s lips form a petulant pout. He decidedly avoids your probing eyes while he plows on, “And I should be the only one allowed to be a dick to you so don’t get it twisted, silly girl.”

You scoff, before your eyes widen at where Noaya was boarding through the doors of the sleek bullet train, “Wait- Gojo-”

“Satoru, think I deserve to be called ‘Satoru’ after that.” he grins irritatingly. “Consider it a payment since it’ll kill ya to say it every time.”

“Yes yes, S-Satoru-” you wave off, but you can’t deny how easily the name rolls off your tongue. And distinctly, you wondered why you called most of your coworkers by first name, but never him before. “He’s going to Kurama onsen.”

Gojo tilts his head, nose scrunching in confusion. “And?”

“We’re going to Kurama onsen.”

---

For all the disaster the first day had wrecked upon your sanity, you were thankful enough that neither of you were sat in the same area as Naoya. Barely even settling into your cushioned seat before putting on your headphones - and a sleeping mask for good measure so you couldn’t be riled up by your coworker again. 

Surprisingly he didn’t try either. Only bothering you to share his snacks occasionally, and hog the arm space on your chair, electricity running down your skin every time he brushed up against you. 

It was quiet, somehow neither of you minded. 

“Hah- are we- woah.” you gasp out after the short walk from the Kyoto station to your destination, an intricate wooden sign coming into view. Lugging your baggage with you - Gojo had insisted he carry it too as a show of strength, but you were sure it’s because he just wanted to give up halfway through and take a taxi instead. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah yeah I get that a lot.” Gojo comes up behind you without warning, a sultry trickle of sweat trailing down his forehead to the forbidden depths of where he’d unbuttoned his shirt a few times. “But usually it’s ‘gorgeous’ or ‘hot as hell’ or-”

“Oh, shut up.” you breathe, ripping your eyes away and towards the reception. “Get your ass moving now, we’ve gotta get checked in and form a game plan for the meeting.”

“That eager to get me in a bed? Always knew ya had it in you, sweetheart.” Oh, he lets out a shiver at your blazingly dirty look. “I mean- yes, ma’am.”

There aren’t too many visitors, and you choose to do the talking when you walk up to the sweet older lady at the reception, having decided that Gojo has done way too much of that for today. Humming, “Hi there, we’re here for two rooms reserved under the name ‘Yaga’?”

A few taps of her keyboard and she’s flashing you a megawatt smile, “Oh yes, you’re right on time!” Before getting up from her seat, “I’ll be the one escorting the young couple to their honeymoon suite. Just this way-”

And while Gojo breezes past you without a single complaint, you stand frozen in the middle of the cozy wooden room. Reaching out a hand to sputter, “W-wait, surely there must be some mistake? Honeymoon suite?”

Gojo is close enough that he whispers something in her ear, and you already know it doesn’t bode well for you at all. 

“Oh honey don’t worry.” she flutters a flustered hand at you. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having your dear boyfriend here spend a bit extra on a comfy suite. Either way, it has been booked for a while now and unfortunately nothing can be changed…”

Forgetting yourself, you sneak a glance over at where she had left her desktop on. The tiny letters on screen confirming that yes, this reservation was under the name Yaga. And no, it wasn’t a mistake that the room you were given was a honeymoon suite. 

“Get your ass movin’ now.” Gojo’s voice snaps you out of your little reverie, sounding as if he was on the verge of bursting into laughter while he mocks your earlier words. He grins, “When life gives you lemons- or when Yaga gives you a honeymoon suite…”

---

“Dibs not on the couch.”

“Dibs not on the- wait, no.” Gojo huffs when you’re finally led to your sprawling room, and for all the scandal of it being a honeymoon suite, you have to admit that Yaga had great taste. “Shouldn’t you treat your boyfriend better?”

You’re splaying yourself out on the plush mattress of the bed - the only bed, because of course the universe doesn’t bestow you with a normal work trip. But god none of those cheap motels at the trips you’d gone on with Nanami or Shoko could ever compare to this. 

Mindfully, you push away the rose petals decorating the silken sheets. “Not my problem.” Jutting a thumb towards the small private hot spring allocated for your room outside, “Sleep in the onsen. Might wanna hurry though, it’s getting dark.”

“Please?” 

“I’m kicking you out of this room altogether.”

“Pretty please.”

You feel a rush of begrudging endearment at the way he’s batting his long lashes at you. Suddenly, you’re wondering whether this is why so many at the office can’t get enough of Gojo - why everyone flocks to him as soon as he waltzes into your department for no apparent reason. Struggling to stand firm. “Hasn’t Nanami told you before that adding ‘pretty’ doesn’t work?”

Grumbling, he sets down the bags, swiftly turning around to call out, “Fine, but m’takin’ a shower first, so you better keep any expensive shampoos away or m’stealing with no regrets.”

Mind dizzy with everything from today, it’s all you can do to shuffle through your bag for your laptop. Trembling fingers deciding that if you weren’t going to think too deeply about this, might as well get some work done. 

It’s what you do for a while - to partial success - until you’re pulled out of your spiels of presentations and trying to keep Gojo’s script on subject by the sound of the running water stopping, and the bathroom door clicking open. 

And lo and behold - there stood Gojo. Shirtless. 

The very same asshole that would throw paper clips at you during meetings, and always finished off the last muffin in the break room he knew you’d been eyeing all day. Here he stood - all sharp hip bones and smooth curves of muscle that were always poorly covered by his work clothes. 

Covering almost all of the bathroom doorway with his broad shoulders, speckled with glistening droplets of water that danced tauntingly down, down, down the sharp planes of his collarbones. Down his abs, and onto a trail of white, hidden by a fluffy white towel you have to force your eyes away from. 

“Put some- put some clothes on. You- you-” you’re scrambling urgently for something near you, which unfortunately happened to be a soft cotton you’d pulled out from your bag earlier. “-you lecher.”

Wordlessly, Gojo’s stunned surprise breaks into a brilliant grin when he unfolds the canon of cloth you’d thrown his way. Humming, “You call me a lecher, but you’re the one that wants to see me in your clothes, huh?”

And sure enough - it was. It was as if the universe was playing a practical joke on you because it was your favorite t-shirt, in fact, that ragged Bleach graphic held gently between Gojo’s long, pale fingers. 

You choke out, hastily getting off the bed. “Wait- I take it back.”

“I don’t know.” Gojo teases, holding the t-shirt well over your head. And all you can do is frantically reach and swerve for it, each attempt dodged with a shit-eating grin. “You get the bed, I get this ratty t-shirt, seems like a fair trade to me, no?”

“No.”

Gojo’s face is hovering so close above yours, though, he still keeps the t-shirt safely away from you. “Then I guess this is f’me, silly girl.”

You groan, appreciating the way his breath catches in his throat when you hook an arm around his neck. Reeling him in so close while you still swipe, “No, but what you are going to get is-”

What Gojo was going to get, he never finds out. Because in your frantic effort to steal back the t-shirt you so desperately didn’t want in the hands of the bastard from sales, you don’t pay attention to that slippery pool of water forming around you two from his half-assed attempts at drying off. 

And before you know it, you’re lurching to the floor - you wince, arms held out to break your fall and-

It never happens.

Blinking your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is what seems like miles upon miles of milky, smooth skin. Breathing in such a heady scent, it’s probably what makes your mind so melty when the realization hits you - a little too late - that you’re being held against Gojo’s chest. 

His painfully bare chest. 

“Satoru?” you breathe. Pawing at where you could feel his racing heartbeat, thumping so painfully against one of his pecs. “Are- are you okay?”

That gets you a hot laugh into your neck, followed by a long, drawn-out shudder that sends shivers down your spine. Through laughs, he manages to grit out, “You’re asking me that?”

He sounds surprised - relieved almost. Such a tender note in his tone at the lack of usual taunting in your words. 

Gojo lets you go - barely, still keeping two strong arms locked around your waist like he was afraid even the slightest distance could have you in danger all over again. “You can take the t-shirt.” He breathes, picking up the damp fabric now fallen onto the floor and pressing it into your palms. “I’m more of a Naruto guy anyway. And you can take the bed, I was jok-”

“You can take it.” 

“What? No-”

“You can.” you cut him off, giving a sidelong glance at the cramped couch tucked into a corner of your suite. Again, you’re drinking in all of him, how tall he was. How warm. How he’d probably have half his body dangling off the side of the cushions, “We can- I mean we can share. We’re adults, right? Wouldn’t want you complaining about a sore back during the contract talks anyway.”

“Worrying about me, sweetheart?” 

“No.” you scowl, pushing him away. “Now excuse you, but I have to use the bathroom since someone was hogging it earlier.”

And if you’d waited just a moment longer - maybe peaked your head out instead of scurrying inside as fast as your legs carried you - you’d have noticed that Gojo was still standing there. A fist clenched at where his heart was, face as pink as those blooming sakura outside. 

---

You didn’t sleep that night. Not one bit. 

It might partially have to do with the fact that your bed was invaded by one very gangly asshole sprawling himself all over the pillow wall you’d constructed. Or maybe to do with the aching discomfort in your joints after moving to sleep on the hard couch after only a few minutes of him getting knocking out. 

“Good morning~” Gojo’s sing-song voice rings through your verging murderous thoughts on the second day. “The sun is shining, my skin is glowing and-” His bleary eyes lock on your hunched figure across the room, looking genuinely confused as to how you got here. “-you’re on the couch?” 

“Yeah. Considered taking ya out in your sleep but then I realized the contract would be in jeopardy.”

He whines, “I’ve- I’ve never had anyone complain before.”

“They probably ran away before that.” you nod solemnly over his sputtering complaints. Stretching, content with the pop of your bones. “Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t that bad.”

You look away when Gojo mimics your actions, sleep shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of white tufts at the hem of his boxers. He pouts, sulky eyes still locked on you, “But still, should’ve kicked me out. I would’ve expected you to instead of taking that shitty couch. Seems like something that guy would do.”

Your heart pangs - just a bit - and you let out a sharp laugh, “Fine, I’ll kick you out tonight. Maybe.” It’s genuine, it really is, and in the growing silence all Gojo can manage to do is fall back into your little familiar dance of teasing.

“Going soft on me? Y’know it’s usually the ladies crawling into my bed not out of it-” 

“Oh fuck you. I take it back, I will kick you out of the room itself. Have fun sleeping in the onsen, you smug bastard.”

He squawks in protest when you throw a cushion at him. Several, actually, just for good measure. “Mercy, woman! I’m delicate!”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

When Gojo falls back into the comfort of the silky soft sheets, you heave out a sigh. Making your way to the sliding doors, still fully expecting a flustered employee telling you that this was all a mistake and of course, you two weren’t booked for the honeymoon suite. 

“Yes?” you answer, eyes widening when you spot that familiar man in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh god, it’s you.” Naoya spits, gaze heating up. “Of course, I should’ve known it’s you and that idiot boyfriend of yours makin’ so much noise next door.”

Great. Perfect. Wonderful. As if this trip couldn’t get any better. 

You pinch your nose, echoing hollowly, “What do you want?”

“Exactly that. Don’t make so much noise, neighbor. I don’t care what limp dick he’s giving you-” 

“Is that all?” you ask dryly, fully knowing there’s more he’s just aching to hurl at you. Before tucking yourself further behind the door, “If that’s all then I hafta go back to that ‘limp dick’.”

“What’s this about limp dick?” Goosebumps run along your arms when you feel something soft - hot - push up from behind you. From the corner of your eye, you spy a long milky hand flex as Gojo - shirtless - cages you in the doorway, “Because it sure can’t be mine then. Won’t you agree, my girl?”

Your face burns at the knowing wink Gojo throws your way, barely managing to hasten, “Uh- yeah.”

“She doesn’t sound very convinced.” Naoya narrows his eyes at your minute expressions, knowing you uncomfortably well after so long. “Guess she’s been missing a real man, huh?”

He scoffs, and you gulp heavily when soft lips kiss a gentle trail up the side of your neck, “Well who’s the one that’s been makin’ her scream all mornin’?” Gojo tilts his head innocently, blatantly showing off a ruddy splotch from where you’d attacked him with a cushion earlier, the zipper leaving a suspicious mark. “Like I said at the train station, she can make her own choices and she’s long forgotten your sorry ass so don’t even try it, you two-toned little bastard.”

Wrapping a possessive arm around your waist, you’re easily tugged back into the safety of your suite - and into Gojo’s sculpted front. You don’t push him away as your immediate thought was to, the feeling was right - too right.

“Satoru?” you hiss once the door is slammed shut.

“Hm?” he whispers hotly into the crook of your neck. 

Still pressed up so close that you can feel the surge and dip of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. “Why are you shirtless?”

“Uh- did I ever tell you I was a method actor, sweetheart?”

---

Unfortunately, despite being in one of the most picturesque hotspots that Kyoto had to offer, a work trip - especially one with such a high profile client and his protegé - meant that the two of you spent most of the day cooped up in your room, typing away on your laptops. 

“Ugh, this sucks.” Gojo groans for about the seventh time this hour. Running a hand tiredly through his hair, “Are you always such a hardass about contracts like this? Honestly, I can’t even feel my legs and it is not in the good way-”

“You pussy.” you grumble as you chug down another can of coffee, eyes flickering to the clock at the end of the room reading 11:00PM. “You don’t see me complaining.” 

He only scoffs, “Of course ya wouldn’t complain, this shit probably gets you off. But unfortunately for those of us that have lives-” 

You click your tongue, rubbing the oncoming headache that always seems to appear when you’re near Gojo. “Yeah, because talkin’ out of your ass and being a public nuisance is such a great life.”

“C’mon now, I see you picking at that blanket - my blanket, by the way - like it insulted your entire bloodline. You’re not slick, you wanna get outta here too.” At your pointed silence, he’s kicking his legs in the air, very much the toddler you knew him to be. “That’s- that’s it I can’t-”

Before you can react, Gojo is barrelling through the sliding doors of your suite. Long legs carrying up the short pathway that led to that private hot spring.

You’re following him before you realize it, “What- what are you- oh!”

You couldn’t cover your eyes fast enough. Being gifted with a brief, obscene eyeful of pale skin - leading all the way down his naked back, and even further when he cannonballs straight into the pool of water. 

Shit, maybe this was why the others at the office loved him so much. 

And it was hard not to understand it when Gojo’s drenched head poked out from under the hot water. White strands plastered to his forehead, a blush creeping down his skin at the head, looking at you with slightly-red, damp eyes that only seemed bluer through the steam.

“Yeah yeah I know I didn’t rinse before and I know I didn’t finish our project yet but-” he grins a grin that you don’t think you could ever forget. And you don’t know whether how hot you feel is from the onsen or him. Reaching out a soaked, strong arm towards you. “-won’t you help me get out?”

You startle, clearly not having expected this request. Narrowing your eyes suspiciously as you inch closer, “Get out?” He nods eagerly, fingers intertwining softly with yours. “Fine but-”

Whatever scream you might’ve let out is swallowed up by water- then air. 

Then more very deserved yelling, of course. “Satoru what the fuck-” Your nails dig into his deltoids, sure to leave some very questionable marks but you didn’t care at this moment. Wiping away the water in your face while he holds you up easily, “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yeah yeah, can’t kill me when you’re clinging to me like this, sweetheart.” Gojo rolls his eyes, but he makes no move to push you off. In fact, he only tightens the arm around your hips. “You looked like you needed that, the 8 hours of straight working like Yaga was havin’ you act like him.”

Somehow, you don’t feel strange about the fact that you’re being pushed up against a very painfully naked Gojo. Living out what is probably the wet dream for about half the office.

He notices, of course he does. 

“Trynna take a peek?” Gojo wiggles his brows. And when you’re trying to hide away behind your hands, he nuzzles them away, arms a bit too occupied holding you captive. Sighing dramatically, “No need to be shy, many people do. I don’t mind of course, ah the woes of being fucking hot.”

Gasping, “Fuck you.” Unbeknownst as to why, you’re laughing. Contemplating whether you should really give him a good kick down below when you choke out, “You’re an asshole, y’know?”

“I know.” he smiles. “N’ yet you still haven’t drowned me.”

“I really fuckin’ hate you.”

Why could you really fucking kiss him right now? 

“I know.”

The moment is broken only a few seconds later by some ungodly screeching you recognize to be none other than your beloved ex’s from next door. Yelling about “Shut the fuck up, if you’re gonna have onsen sex I’m calling the front lobby.”

“What? Can’t a man fuck his girl in peace?” Gojo shouts back. “Shut up just because your puny dick can’t get some, two-tone.”

That broke whatever magical spell was put on the two of you, obviously. And you were the first to run back to the suite - leaving Gojo and his nakedness alone. Very, very alone. 

He takes a bit longer to follow you, and you’re already freshened up and in bed by the time he makes his way to the bathroom - with clothes this time, fortunately for your sanity. 

Only a few minutes later, he’s nestling right next to you on the bed. You gasp in a sharp inhale at the heat of his proximity, mere millimeters away from you now. 

“Good work today, by the way.” Gojo gruffs out to your turned back, quiet words carrying over that ridiculous extra-vaulted wall of pillows, padded up with ones from the couch, too. Silver tongue stumbling over his words slightly, “For how much I complained I didn’t get to tell ya. You and I - mainly I - are gonna ace that contract tomorrow.”

There’s no taunting in his tone, not one bit. And you surprise the both of you when you murmur out shakily, “I’m worried.”

“Huh?” he chokes in disbelief. “Listen, I know I slept through that meeting one time, but I swear it was only one time. I’m a…somewhat changed man, I promise I won’t-”

“Not that.”

He pauses at your interruption. All is quiet - only the chirping of crickets outside, and the steamy buzz of nearby hot springs. 

And for the first time in the twenty-something years Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc upon this Earth, he is rendered speechless. Wordlessly picking apart your wall of pillows - one by one, as if to give you more than enough time to stop him - to loop two strong arms around you. 

“Shut up.” he breathes. “You’ll do brilliant, silly girl.”

---

Gojo remembers the exact date he met you - probably the exact time, too. Honestly, even three whole years after that initial meeting, he can’t remember anything but that, if you asked him to recall a single meeting held that week then Gojo honestly wouldn’t have been able to tell you. 

It was a regular day spent driving poor Nanami over in the marketing department dangerously close to his fifth migraine of the day.

“You know I know I’m a valuable asset to this company Nanamin.” he chuckles, looking over where the other man was readying a sparkly Welcome! banner. “But this is all too much even for me~”

“It’s not for you.” Nanami spits, curtly. Barely sparing Gojo a glance before readying the welcome muffins, “It’s for the new head of department arriving soon today.”

And oh that piqued his interest like never before. That had all thoughts of the meeting he was currently missing flying out the window as he wondered what you would be like. Swiping away a few of those tempting muffins right out of Ichiji’s hands, he wonders. Would you be another Ichiji? Would you try and keep him under your thumb like Yaga? Hah, you could try but-

“Look I don’t know if the sales department doesn’t have food but, really?” 

What?

A shudder wracks through the oh-so-great Gojo’s body at the sound of your cool, firm tone turning to meet the source and-

Oh. Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul impaled and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Gojo thought his knees were weak at just a gorgeous glare from you - well, he was completely and utterly unprepared for when he leaned in closer to where you stood firmly. Shielding a pale, trembling Ichiji. And, honestly, with a death stare like that you couldn’t blame a guy for getting nervous! It’s all he could do to hum out a cocky, “What? Want some, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart? What I want is you out of my department.” you furrow your brows. “Now.”

It’s all that’s said before you’re dragging him by his hand out - and, shit Gojo is so riveted by how soft your hands are that he almost forgets to be offended by the way the entire marketing department just watches and giggles at the scene playing out before them. Traitors.

You push him out of the door, “I better not see you coming back to toy with my new employees-” Heavy gaze flickering down to his name tag. “-Gojo.”

Ah, truly a woman of his dreams. 

And it honestly still felt like a dream even now - especially now - when you’re stood in front of him on the third day in Kyoto. Fingers messing meticulously with your hair as you check your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down your new red dress. “God, I hope it isn’t too much. How do I look?”

Perfect, he wants to say. 

But instead he nudges your shoulder in the booth of your seat, settling for an obnoxious, “Alright, not as good as me, though.” Gojo takes delight in the way you give his arm a punch, smile a lot easier than before now. 

“As if, you can’t even tie this properly. Here-” your fingers fiddle deftly with his slightly crooked tie. “Fixed it, you big baby.”

He grins, “If you wanted to get your hands on me then you should’ve- oh wait you already have, haven’t you? I remember that someone bypassed her own lil’ pillow wall last night.”

“Shut up.” you give him a tight warning. “They’re here.”

Honestly, there was only one thing worse than seeing old Gakuganji - that is, the sight of his sniveling protegé following him right after. Except- 

“Two-tone?” 

“Y-you!”

There’s a tense silence between the three of you in the exquisite onsen dining hall, one that almost makes you want to jump up and bolt back to your room because this can’t be real. Surely, this can’t be-

“I see the three of you are already acquainted?” Gakuganji’s strained, aged voice cuts through your whirlwind of thoughts. “Sit, sit, Naoya. That only makes things easier.”

As a fuming Naoya and an oblivious Gakuganji take their seats in front of the two of you, you feel the undeniable pressure of long, warm fingers squeezing your own. Reassuring. And it makes you flash the two men your best, most polished business smile, “So, about the contract.”

---

“I’m going to throw up.”

“Satoru.”

“No, I will throw up. And that will not be good for my reputation.”

“Satoru, if you throw up I’m beating your ass.”

He narrows his eyes at your heated whisper, matching you with a low, “Damn keep it for the bedroom sweetheart. We still hafta wait till Gakuganji comes back with his decision.” 

“Ahem!”

It’s that annoyed, grating faux cough that drags you and Gojo out of your little world - back to reality in which no, unfortunately while your primary client has gone off to take an important business call regarding your contract, you were left to babysit his protegé.

“Yes, Naoya.” you give him a dry grin. It was nearing well into late night at this point, and most of the other visitors had cleared out except for the reserved table you were sitting in. “Do you want to be beat up, too?”

He only points an accusing finger at the two of you, “Don’t play games with me you hear. I’ve already got you figured out, coming here on a business trip and dating your coworker all the same-” Both you and Gojo raise a brow at this, what an idiot. “-you two will be fired for this.”

You catch Gojo’s eye and try not to burst out laughing, “As if. And trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I knew that you were Gakuganji’s new protegé.”

“Not because the guy you have to be here with is the same one you told me you hated back then?” he spits. “Honestly, you’d have been better off with me than this ‘pompous, no-good nepo baby asshole’ as you loved to put it.”

And you knew that Gojo was aware of your little rivalry - hell, he was an active participant, more than happy to rile you up every time. But that still didn’t stop you from tensing up when you spared a glance at the man beside you. 

Surprised to see that unapologetic smirk on his face, “Of course she did.” Looking down at you with what you swore was such unimaginably deep fondness in his eyes. “I probably imagine she told you all the funny ways she wanted to get back at me, too? Banning me from the marketing department? Holding an anti-Gojo campaign? Strangling?” Gojo takes Naoya’s shocked silence as enough of an answer, “Guess what, she did hate me, probably still can’t stand me. Very understandably so, because she’s hot as fuck when she’s mad.”

Despite his furrowed brow and the angry slash of his mouth, Naoya can’t stop himself from blurting out, “W-well how did you-”

“We fuck it out, of course.”

And perhaps for the one time on this entire trip, the universe smiles down at you. You find yourself sighing in relief at the sight of Gakuganji nearing your table, evidently done with his phone call. Thank fuck, you weren’t ready for a fight to break out and this dress was too expensive to ruin. 

“Seems you three are getting along well.” the old man drones out, and by the tone of his voice you genuinely can’t tell whether he was joking or not. Turning towards you and Gojo, “Well, after that very thorough presentation and careful consideration with the board at our Kyoto branch, we have all come to a unanimous decision.” You wait with bated breath for his next few words, “Where do we sign?”

Naoya stands in his seat, “But- but, sir.” He cringes, as furious as the last time you’d seen him a year ago. “You can’t sign off on this deal- not with these scumming, absolute little shits.”

“Naoya.” Gakuganji’s voice carries a warning. “You are dismissed.”

Ah, Gojo chuckles inwardly, exactly where he wanted him. 

It seemed like a blur after that - a blur of signed contracts and Gojo making faces at an ashen-faced Naoya behind Gakuganji’s back, of being told that the two of you simply “must visit” their offices in Kyoto one day - much to your exes absolute torture. To which Gojo had replied with a smug, “Of course, my girlfriend and I will. Won’t we, sweetheart?” Just loud enough that Naoya - who’d been banned to a nearby table - could fume over. 

And it’s how you found yourself pulling a giggly Gojo by his lapels back to your suite, hasty and desperate. Tripping over one another as you stumble in. 

“Easy there on the merchandise, sweetheart.” he jests, but it sounds so strained even to him. “Can’t break our streak and kill each other on the last day now, can we?”

Your laughter dies down, “Hey, Satoru?”

“Oh no…”

“Why did you call me your girlfriend even at the end back then?”

His brows scrunch up, pleading almost. He chokes out, “Just- you- I just-” Flicking a calculated finger right in the middle of your forehead, “You think too much, did you know that? Hate to see this pretty face like this, did you see his reaction?”

“Oh my god yes did you see his face, Satoru?” you’re pressing him against the wall to steady yourselves. Feeling so drunk off the evening and him. “Naoya looked like he was going to explode right then and there. We did so good.”

“What did I tell, ya? I always know everything, silly girl.” Two big arms wrap around yours in a congratulatory hug - or, at least, what you think is a congratulatory hug. And if his palms dip just a bit lower than your waist - if this was just a bit inappropriate - neither of you say anything. “Mhm. Don’t even know what you dated that fool in the first place, he’s not even in your league.” 

You scoff, “Gee thanks.”

“No no, not in that way, don’t ever think in that way, stupid.” A long index comes up to tilt your chin up to meet his greedy gaze. “You’re too gorgeous for him. Besides, he spoke like a man who couldn’t even find the clit.”

“Well- he did find it.” you relish in that deepening furrow of Gojo’s brow, the way the muscles in his jaw tick just right. “But wanna hear a secret?” Those soft baby hair at the nape of his neck raise when you’re whispering in his ear, barely even waiting for his dazed nod. “He still never made me cum.”

“...Never?”

“Never.”

There’s a beat of silence, one. Two. 

Shit. 

You’d long expected Gojo’s smart mouth to make some kind of insulting joke by now. And you’re halfway through wondering whether you’d overshared too much, untangling your arms from his vice-like embrace before-

“I would.” he rasps, breaths ragged. You’re tilting your head in confusion when he repeats cockily, “I would’ve made you cum, y’know. How could I not?”

There’s a snarky little part of you that makes you quick a brow, a sultry smirk playing on your lips. “Is that an offer?”

Gojo’s arms loop around you tight - almost too tight, you could almost hear your poor bones popping in protest. “It’s a promise.”

Oh that’s all you wanted to hear right about now. And he can fucking see the goosebumps that make their way down your exposed shoulders, he can practically hear that syrupy sweet tone that was really not good for his sanity. 

“Prove it, Satoru.”

His lips are crashing against yours like they’re magnetized - and it’s nothing like what you’d imagine kissing Gojo Satoru would’ve been like. Nothing suave, shallow. It’s sloppy, a mess of teeth and lips and his tongue tasting every inch of your candied lips like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t even want to breathe for fear of losing out on your pretty mouth. 

“Fuck-” Gojo hisses, delicate strings of spit snapping as he pulls away ever-so-slightly to take in the delicious sight of you all glossy eyed with swollen lips. “Fuck you’re so beautiful. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

Kissing you over and over like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t want to get enough, you’re moaning when Gojo slips his tongue past the seam of your lips. Addicted to the distinct taste of him and those cheap cherry lollipops you always caught him sucking on in the break room.

He’s drawing back in a way that has him drinking in your soft noises, big palms kneading your body over your dress. 

“Sa- Sato-” you’re gasping out when he flips you over to press you up against the wall. Assaulting your bruised lips with heated peck after peck. “What do you- mean-”

He groans, lips moving to kiss down the quivering column of your throat, “Shut up- Just shut up and kiss me. God, for how much I love that mouth of yours, you talk way too much, sweetheart.”

And that was really rich coming from him - but you don’t get to snark back at him. Because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that Gojo decides he’s had enough of playing nice - that is, if he was in the first place. 

Immediately fiddling towards that cold metal zipper in the back, gliding down the red fabric right along with your bra- shit, when did he even unclip it?

“You-” you sputter, the cool chill of the bedroom pebbles your sensitive nipples. The dawning feeling that this absolute thorn at your side might be much more than just talk has your thighs pressing together. Leveling him with a narrow look, “You are such a whore, aren’t you?”

He flashes you a sheepish grin, large palms groping your tits. “Would ya believe me if I told you it was from how many times I’d imagined this before?”

“Absolutely not.”

This earns you a sharp smack! gifted onto the fat of your ass, the five pads of Gojo’s fingers burning onto where your dress was hiking up. 

“Always need to talk back, don’t you?” he spits, shoving a knee between your two legs. Such an innocently handsome grin splashing across his face at the soft moan you let out, grinding purposefully against that damp mound of your needy cunt. “Why won’t you ever hah- believe me?” He has one hand shoving your dress down, down, down. The other dragging your sloppy hips down his muscled thigh, “You wanna hear a secret? Stick your tongue out f’me like a good girl now, sweetheart.” 

And oh you wanted to fight back. To outright refuse to comply so brattily, but it’s all you can do to nod blearily, feeling so fucking dirty with the way you’re letting your tongue loll out. Whining when Gojo smushes your cheeks together into an obscene pucker, into the perfect target for him to spit once. Twice. 

“Yeah, take it- that’s my girl. A secret for a secret, right?” Gojo smiles so darkly, swiping away that thick splatter of syrupy saliva dredged up on the corner of your mouth. Intentional, of course. His words are low but clear, unable to have you mistaking them for anything else when he says, “That time I slept through the whole meeting? Wasn’t sleepin’.”  He bites down on your earlobe, licking lightly. “S’just, I happened to see that cute new skirt you were wearing that day, it was so short- so fuckin’ tight. Couldn’t bear to show my face, not after I’d just spent the past few hours with my hand wrapped around my cock, wondering all the sweet things I could do to you in it.”

You’re gasping, “You’re so fucking filthy.”

“Yeah yeah.” he purrs, toying with the hem of your now dress, the red cloth now dangling somewhere at your thighs. “And don’t pretend you’re not just as dirty, hardass. Actin’ all prudish when ya dress like this underneath.”

As if to prove his point, the back of one of his fingers is gliding across where your lacy black panties were peeking out. Groaning at the sopping wet fabric, “Yeah, just as dirty as I thought.”

With his little hypothesis confirmed, it’s all that Gojo has to do to pick you up with one arm hooking under your already trembly thighs. You’re keening when he plants another solid smack on the fat of your ass, “Satoru!”

“Ohh, I love that. Say it again.” he murmurs, walking slowly to the edge of your shared bed. Savoring that feeling of your drooling cunt seeping through to paint a small dark patch on his suit. “I said, say it again.”

All it takes is another harsh slap against your ass, and a honeyed drag of Gojo’s name for him to splay you out like some slut on the soft silken sheets. You find yourself pulling him back by his broad shoulders when he takes the moment to admire just how gorgeous you looked. Even better than any daydream that mind of his could think of. 

“Sa-toru-” you mewl, and he only licks his lips as if in a daze. Not knowing where to look - at that needy, already-cockdrunk glaze over your eyes, at the way your flimsy dress wrapped around the plush of your thighs, at that glistening little patch on the plump mound of your cunt. So mouthwatering. “Satoru- Sa- Toru!”

That makes him snap out of his little hypnosis. “What did you call me?” he breathes. 

You bat your lashes deceivingly innocently up at him, “Sato-”

“No.” he’s cutting you off, Adam’s apple bobbing with the heavy gulp he takes. Thumbing at your puffy lips as if to drag the same words out of you - have them going straight to his achy cock once more. “That other one. Don’t play stupid with me, silly girl, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

Oh, you did. 

And you’re feeling the way your dripping pussy clenches with anticipation when you whine out that little nickname once more. “Toru, please.” Adding a little flair to have Gojo’s rosy lips fall into a soft oh! choking on a ragged low hiss when a hand of his subconsciously goes down to squeeze his bulging erection. 

“Oh yes, m’name sounds so fuckin’ cute on your lips.” he groans. The sheets below you two rustling with movement when he shuffles urgently downwards, “Sounds so fucking good it makes me wanna-” 

RIP!

“-know if she sounds it out just as pretty as you.”

You’re still reeling from the tatters of what remained of your favorite red dress being thrown unapologetically onto the tatami mats below. Huffing in irritation, “Satoru, if you’re ngh- dead if you don’t replace that-”

He’s shutting you up with another quiet smack onto your heated skin - this time at your shamefully spread inner thighs, the edges of his padded fingers just barely touching on your swollen folds. “Yeah yeah, I’ll buy ya the whole fuckin’ store if I have to.” Before hovering so close you could feel every hitch of his hot breath on your beading cunt, “And m’gonna make it so you don’t dare call me that again.”

You don’t have a response to that - and anything you might’ve taunted back is being knocked out of your mouth. The only thing leaving it being slurred little whimpers of Gojo’s name when he licks a long, languid stripe up your puffy slit. 

“Oh, look at that.” he chuckles. Pushing apart your thighs to get a nice greedy look at every drop of your sweet sweet juices glistening in the dim lighting. “Think she’s more mouthy than you, if tha’s even possible, heh.”

His long, eager tongue is slurping up every syrupy drop of your slick. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Fuck- Toru.” your fingers find their way weaving into his soft strands when the very tip of his soft tongue finds its way just past your folds. Arching your spine off the plush bed needily like some slut, “Need you to- hngh- go deeper.”

The only response you’re getting is a sultry, smug grin being spread across your pussy lips. Feeling everything from the quirk of his cupid’s bow, to that dimple at the edge of Gojo’s smirk, “Knew you were needy, but this- this is fucking amazing.”

“Guess you’re all bark no bite, huh?” you pout, voice teetering into teasingly whiny. And oh how you love the way that wipes all the cockiness from Gojo’s face. “Even Naoya was able to actually eat me out the way I-”

It’s like it killed him to hear those goading words from you - and something snaps before he’s shoving that pretty face of his back nose-deep into your addictive pussy. 

Slotting his tongue up and down your hot slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“F-fuck, oh Toru-” you squeal when he wastes no time pushing past that snug little ring of resistance to reach deep into your gummy walls. Barely even giving you any warning - Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head at how sinfully tight you were squeezing him. “Shit how are you in so deep-”

And that petty, petty little part of him doesn’t answer, instead gliding up a determined thumb up to draw methodical circles on your throbbing clit. Fast. So so sloppy with the way he was letting your juices dribble past his knuckles, his wrist, forming a glossy sheen all the way down to the sheets. Matching the ruthless cadence of the way he was fucking your ravaged cunt the way he wished he could do with his rock-hard cock right now. 

“Ah!” you gasp, when one swipe of his tongue sends jolts of pure white-hot pleasure running up your spine. And that’s all Gojo has to hear before he’s attacking your hidden sweet spot over and over. “F-fuck s’too good. Fuckin’ hate how your big mouth is- ngh- so good at this-”

That causes a husky rasp of laughter to bubble its way out of Gojo’s throat, and he’s pinning your wildly bucking hips down with one arm. “Don’t you dare run away now. You’re so cute when you’re cockdrunk and truthful like this, silly girl.”

The vibrations have you moaning out a feverish Toru! Toru! Toru! louder than ever, wrenching out of you with every crash of his soft tongue against your sensitive spots. Every harsh swivel on your clit, just harder on the tip, softer at the curve. 

“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah, say my name like that.” he gasps, spitting out hissy profanities into your velvety walls. You were squeezing him so tight it was almost difficult to bully his tongue into your plushy walls. To keep up his mean staccato - but fuck, it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up, it didn’t matter if his tongue was getting tired. Because Gojo Satoru was one stubborn man. “Louder-”

“T-Toru!”

“No no,” you’re jolting at the feeling of something cool and glossy hitting your cunt in a harsh glob. Gojo barely wastes any time thumbing his spit in to mix with the mess made down below, letting your ears ring with such obscene squelches that have your cheeks burning. “Hear this, sweetheart?” As if there’s anything else you could hear, he’s pulling out those sultry sounds from you. “She’s louder than you, n’ that makes me so sad-” You fuck up further and further into Gojo’s tongue, eyes locked with his down in his favorite position between your legs. “-my girl can be ah- loud f’me, right? Say my name, say it so the whole fuckin’ onsen hears.”

“Toru—”

He’s taunting you in that same honeyed tone, “Louder.” Murmuring even deeper into your cunt, “C’mon, louder. Tell it to me.”

“Toru! Fuck- m-close-” It’s probably the last understandable sentence you’re managing to moan out before you finally cum. Wave after wave of such filthy pleasure hitting you, it’s all you can do to tighten your grip on his hair. Angling and using leverage to grind your hips down deeper, jolting with every flick of his tongue sending stars behind your eyelids. And Gojo, satisfied, shuts up to let you ride his face through your high. Using him, just dragging your sloppy pussy all over his tongue, his mouth. Over and over.

“Jus’ a bit more-” you hear him whisper out so sweetly over your ringing ears. Suddenly, your limp hands fall to the sides of that drenched pool you’ve made. And yet Gojo is still going, still meshing his bruised lips so messily against your own, making out with your cunt in a way that has him so depraved. “Just some more, pretty girl- you taste so addictive.”

Big fat tears of overstimulation prick at your eyes, and you’re sobbing out, “W-wait- fuck m’too sensitive for that.”

“You can handle it, you’re a big- fuck- a big girl, aren’t ya?” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every taste of your pussy. Surging forwards despite the hold you have on his hair, “Hold on- just want a bit more- you don’t know how long-”

The pout he’s giving you once you have to just drag him away like a man starved, fighting against the grip you have on him. 

But oh Gojo looks so pretty, cloudy bangs pulled back to reveal his delicately blushing face, lips painted in a glossy sheen of your slick. Slobbering down, down, down to glisten across the bottom half of his face. Looking so bruised with how greedy he was, almost the same color as those cherry lollipops he loved so much. And his eyes - fuck, his eyes - glassy and half-lidded, hazy with a sheen that told you he was already completely and utterly pussydrunk out of his sanity. 

“Toru…” you start, unable to tear your eyes away from the way he moans at the mere sound of your voice. “Your turn.”

It’s a long endeavor to get rid of Gojo’s pants - or, at least that’s what it feels like. 

Hooking a still-shaky leg over his toned waist, you’re slamming his muscular frame down onto the mattress. Buttons hitting the floor when you all but tear his overpriced button-up off - because, really, it’s not you two if one of you doesn’t get your revenge somehow.

“These- these damn belts.” you scoff, too-eager fingers fumbling with the metal latches of Gojo’s belt. “Why does it have to have so many-”

“You’re so cute when you’re eager this way, silly girl.” he’s cupping the side of your face. Free hand easily unbuckling his belt, and the heady metallic sounds are enough to have your cunt so needy. “Like this-”

You’re gasping when he finally takes his formal dress pants off - along with those uselessly precum-soaked boxers. Sticky and leaving a lewd trail of glossy down his milky, sculpted thighs. 

And oh if you thought Gojo was pretty before then he was a fucking masterpiece right now. All tall, lean muscle that rippled with every minute movement. Curves and dips of sculpted skin being accentuated so perfectly against the dim lightning in your suite. 

So infuriating at how that couldn’t give you a better look at his massive, swollen length. So long and girthy, hefty where his fat head was leaking silky precum all over his abs. Such a delicate pink matching his lips at the head, dancing down, down his thick, prominent veins to those tufts of soaked white at his sharp pelvis. Fuck, he was so big - could you actually take him?

Wrapping your soft palm around Gojo’s furiously throbbing fast, you’re letting him coat you hand in a sinful sheen. And you can’t help but wonder what he’d taste like, too-

“Hold on right there, my dirty girl.” your slowly dipping head is tilted firmly by Gojo. “As much as hngh- fuck you’re squeezing me so tight- as much as this has been fuck- all I’d dreamt of since that office ice cream party. I just know m’gonna cum as soon as you put that smart mouth on me, sweetheart.” He’s kissing gently at your lips, sucking on your lower lip. “And I just know you’re never gonna fuck– let me live that down.”

You smirk, “Not gonna live that ice cream party thing, either, Toru.”

“He flashes you such a devilish smile, steadying your hips to straddle him messily. Spreading your legs on either side of his weepy tip. “Oh, fuck off.”

You hiss when you’re feeling the hot kiss his head is planting on your sensitive pussy lips, “Fuck you.”

“No.” Gojo chuckles, powerful thighs curling up to plant his feet on the mattress. Waiting. Anticipating. “I’m fucking you-���

It’s barely even a warning - laughable, really - how that’s all he’s gifting you with before bullying the very tip of his fat cock into your snug cunt in a sloppy hit. 

He groans, eyes fighting to roll to the back of his head but caught so so greedily on the way you swollen pussy lips are being spread so obscenely to swallow every single inch after fucking inch. Disappearing down into your gooey walls, Gojo’s breath hitches at the first sign of resistance from your too-tight entrance. 

“C’mon now.” he moans gutturally. Hips fucking up in a jagged, slow grind, trying so desperately to plunge himself in deeper. “C’mon c’mon come- on-” 

“Toru!” you’re gasping when he slides his soaked length even deeper. Feeding in to the way your gummy walls want more more more more- “You’re so fuckin’ hngh- impatient.”

“Me?” he’s asking, voice a few octaves higher and dripping with the audacity to sound so genuinely in disbelief. “You’re- you’re saying that I’m impatient. Oh, sweetheart-” you blink back the lusty haze in your eyes to look down at Gojo fully, spying that upwards curl of his lips that you knew didn’t mean well for you right now. “-look down.”

Your eyes widening as you’re whirling downwards to spy the way he’s not even halfway in yet. But that’s not all, no, your poor pussy is just absolutely bulging around his girthy shaft, struggling, stretched to their limits - yet still quivering with the effort to try and milk something delicious out of him. 

And the moment that tiny, shaky gasp leaves your mouth, his sharp hip bones are just crashing into yours. Toned hips lifting off of the bed to drive his achy cock into your drooling cunt. One hand kneads and gropes the flesh of your ass to steady you down, down, down-

“Toru-” you’re moaning, like a mantra, once his angry tip is gliding across the spongy wall of your cervix. The stretch too much, Gojo’s cock so thick in his girth that you could feel each and every sweet spot of yours being dragged down his length. “F-fuck, Toru!”

He chuckles, gritting out through those long, determined grinds. Having himself now fully stuffed inside your cunt, heavy balls kissing at the curve of your ass, pubic hair scratching up against your needy clit.  “Can’t hah- keep quiet, can you? Fuckin’ love how needy she is- how needy you are.”

“Sh-shut up-” you mewl, narrowing your eyes. 

“Hah- I would.” Gojo grins out so smugly. Tilting you precariously on top of him like some ragdoll to easily give your g-spot a mean crash of his greedy head. “But you can’t.”

And of course, he’s proving his own point by bouncing you in a heady, fast tandem, abs burning with the ache to fuck you so rude. Gojo spits once on two of his long, slender fingers, letting this lewd coating smear down to his knuckles before dipping them down to spread your puffy folds even farther. 

“Fuuuck, jus’ look at you.” he rasps, the deep baritone of his voice having your gummy walls mold even harder onto the shape of his cock. Gojo throws his had back, twitching balls squeezing harder with every increasing smack against your ass. “Shit shit shit- how that bastard had you hngh- all to himself and didn’t make th-this pretty pussy come everyday I’ll never understand.” He’s pulling you down with a hand to the back of your neck, tightening, “So don’t we hah- rub it in his ugly face?”

Shit, the thought has you grinding and stuttering your hips down to meet Gojo’s unforgiving cadence, arching your body into him like you couldn’t get enough. 

“You just got- hngh- so impossibly harder at that.” you push his bucking shoulders down onto the mattress. Now fully riding him just as much as he was fucking you into the mattress so animalistically. “And you call me needy.”

He scoffs, “I’m not the only one.” The fingers still lingering on your cunt moving to toy with your pulsing sensitive nub, teasing and toying your clit between two fingers. “Can you just h-hear how loud this pussy of yours is? Bet he can hear too.”

And it was true, the wet smacks were only getting louder. Sloppier. Squelching with the push and pull of Gojo’s pounding cock in the same maddening staccato. 

But still - you weren’t going to be compliant that easily. Feeling the familiar tingles of your high edging closer, you wanted to break him just one more time. “Nah- I don’t think he can.”

“Oh you’re gonna regret that, silly girl.”

In all of two seconds - maybe even less than - Gojo’s using his immense strength to his advantage. Flipping the two of you over so your back is hitting the soaked sheets, droopy legs thrown over your shoulder to plow into you in such a mean mating press he has you folded into. 

The new change in angle makes it even easier for him to be kissing your g-spot. Bruising. Branding his name onto your sweet spots - your cervix - so you wouldn’t forget. So you can’t forget.

“F-fuck, Toru-” you’re letting out staggered gasps every time he rams his hefty cock into you. Fingers still relentless on your clit - playing around with it as much as he was playing with your sanity. “I’m so-”

“What was that?” he interrupts through sloppy, stuttering thrusts. Free hand cupping his ear so goadingly, ‘Can’t hear you, sweetheart.“

“Toru-” you’re squealing over his rapidly accelerating movements. Fighting to babble out coherently, “Toru m’close-”

“Louder.” he’s grinning meanly. Hips burning with slowly fatiguing effort because he’s so close, your slick walls are massaging him so tight. But where’s the fun if there’s no teasing? “Still can’t hear ya.”

Your voice is shot at this point, “Toru, m’gonna cum-”

“Louder or m’not gonna let you.”

“Toru! Fuck fuck fuck m’cumming.” It hits him before those loud moans are even leaving your mouth, because your velvety walls are clamping down so snug. Molding to the shape of him, your heels digging even deeper on his shoulder, nails raking red red patterns down the pale skin of his biceps. “M’cumming- ngh-”

And fuck each and every slam of his hips sends electricity up your spine, bullying you through your high. Dragging it out till you think you could go insane. 

“God- fuck you’re so-” It’s the only hoarse grunt leaving Gojo’s lips before he’s spilling thick rope after rope of seed into the awaiting channel of your pussy. “So perfect f’me.”

Two hands of his lace above your head, pushing you so impossibly deep down his thick hilt. He’s cumming and cumming so hard like he never has in his life, body out of control with the way he’s stuffing you with every drop of seed. 

He shivers at the overspill, gushing out of the corners of your ravaged cunt, painting a creamy ring around his tired base. Too much. And yet mindlessly thrusting even sloppier, catching your lips in a lazy, passionate kiss. “At least we didn’t fuckin’ kill each other, hm?”

You smile into it, slotting your hips languidly, “Didn’t do hgnh- the neighbors any favors, either.”

“It’s Naoya, who fucking cares? ‘Limp dick’ my ass.” And oh how Gojo loved that sweet sweet smile gracing your lips, the way your eyes light up all because of him. He can’t help but drawl out, “Y’know…since we were locked up in this room for all three days, and have most of the day tomorrow, how about you and I actually do some sightseeing here before we leave?” 

You nod eagerly, tightening your legs around his waist and shit, this might just be heaven. “We need a break after that contract, s’gonna be so fun.”

He’s connecting his sticky forehead with yours, “Of course it will be, I’ll be there.” Babbling deliriously, drunk off the way you’re leveling him with another one of your familiar glares, “And we can use Yaga’s care, too, he never checks-”

“Toru…” you warn when Gojo cuts himself off with a gasp. Quirking an irritated brow - as you usually did when you’re with him, “Don’t tell me you’ve been dipping into Yaga’s card, he’ll kill you if he finds out. That’s if I don’t kill you first.”

“...”

“...Toru…”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I booked us this suite with it too?”

A/N. My red flag is making Naoya the shitty ex in every piece of writing I do (or is that a green flag hmmm?)

Plagiarism not authorized.

[fadetouchedsilk]

'fixed' is a strong word here, i think even if he'd stayed on board veilguard still would have been a soft 6/10 at Best just based on the nightmarish production cycle alone

i definitely don't want people to take this post as a defence of gaider lmao, to the best of my knowledge he still hasn't walked back any of his previous bullshit takes (which he's Definitely had more than enough time to do by now & instead just elects to sound vaguely smug/bitter when it comes up on bluesky so. not a lot of hope there tbh). the biggest things we're missing without him at the helm would definitely apply more to tonal cohesiveness & how the lore is generally treated. ea getting their fingers into things & having the game suffer for it was to be expected, but based on past games i still thought we would at least be getting compelling parts (i love dragon age, but i definitely won't go around saying it's objectively Good lmfao)

whether he stayed on or someone was brought in who functioned similarly where it mattered & made up for some of the real world-related shortcomings & blind spots (would have been the ideal in this situation), i think weekes was just Not the correct choice for taking the lead here. from the outside, i would assume the choice was made on seniority & previous experience working on the games which makes sense on paper. but the cohesiveness & maturity of the writing is just completely missing. it is so, so painfully emotionally shallow & it's glaring in the scant character interactions we get.

given how many people love the writing of da2, i don't even know if it would have been an issue of crunch here since we've seen it pulled off in a short period of time before (another point where having ea breathing down everyone's neck this time didn't help tbf). but a lot of that success can probably be attributed to having a lead who had a strong sense of the setting & would have been able to bring everyone up to that same level. apparently having the shorter timeline was actually a benefit to the da2 development, since there was less time to go back & forth with decisions.

anyway all that is to say, i think 'we got objectively better written games under gaider than we did with weekes as lead' is a pretty fair statement to make. i have no doubt that there are other people who could have delivered a Better game than either of them could too, and i honestly wish we were living in the timeline where that theoretical person ended up with the position instead

im definitely not a fan of this man on a personal level for several reasons but guys im starting to think da lost a load bearing wall when he left

[powerfulkicks]

trying to replace like everything on my 3ds

[yuujispinkhair]

Hockey player! Sukuna headcanons

Inspired by this lovely ask by @subarusuguru. You made my head spin with the idea of hockey player Sukuna!! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me! I had to write a little something 💗

Pairing: Hockey player!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut Word Count: 700 Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of injuries, but nothing bad. All characters are of age. Divider by @/benkeibear

Hockey player!Sukuna, who is a devil on the ice. The rival teams always know they will have several injured players after each match against Sukuna. He has a very aggressive playstyle, and his speed and strength, combined with his quick mind, make him unstoppable.

Hockey player!Sukuna, whose maroon eyes always find you when he enters the ice. He winks at you and makes a kissy face, laughing when you blow him a kiss back. The whole hockey arena can know that you are his, and he is yours. And anyone who dares make a rude comment about him being so soft for his girl will receive a brutal body check that sends them facefirst onto the ice or into the boards.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who has a mad glint in his eyes during the whole match. He is ambitious and confident, and he always plays to win. He loves being an asshole and taunt his opponents, laughing when he can get under their skin with his snide comments. But no matter how much Sukuna riles them up, they still aren't able to stop him because he always puts his whole anger and strength into his game.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who is a completely different man when he goes on the ice with his princess. Treating you with so much care and being such a gentleman. He holds your hand to make sure you don't fall when he teaches you how to ice skate. And once he can see you are ready for the next step, he lets go of you and tells you to skate toward him to get a kiss.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who has so much fun when showing you how to play hockey. Your time on the ice is filled with playful fights and good-natured teasing comments that are so flirty that you get butterflies the whole time. His laugh sounds different too, happy and free, and he only uses his strength to pick you up and pin you against the boards so he can kiss you until you are breathless.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who grins that charming grin when he lets you score and praises you for being such a natural talent, even though you know you suck. Of course, Sukuna also has to show off a little in front of his girl, and he steals the puck from you easily, making you gasp at his speed and watch with wide eyes and a smitten expression on your face as your boyfriend skates across the ice and shoots the puck into the goal with so much force it almost rips the net.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who feels a proud buzz running through his veins anytime he sees you in his jersey. Somehow it drives him crazy to see you walking around with his last name on your back. It spurs him on to play even better and show you that he is worthy to be your man. Maybe he should buy a ring and give you his last name on your ID too, and not just on a jersey.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who loves to fuck you in the locker room after every match when his teammates have left. A victory fuck to celebrate when he is still pumped full of adrenaline and euphoria, pulling you onto his lap and bouncing you on his thick cock while groaning in your ear and telling you that it is all thanks to your love and support that makes him play so damn good. Or an angry fuck after a loss to make him feel ok again, lifting you up and slamming you against the shower wall, snapping his hips fast, fucking you hard and deep, growling your name when he cums in you and finds sweet relief in your warm cunt.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who can't stop smiling when you dote on him when he is injured after a rough match. He has a high pain tolerance and doesn't really worry all that much about the injuries, but he loves it when you take care of him and look at him with so much worry in your eyes. It makes him feel so warm, and so he happily plays along and lets you change his bandages, pet his hair, and cuddle him.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who loves to win, but who thinks his biggest victory was winning your heart.

I am so in love with him!! Thank you so much for sending me that prompt!! I hope you liked my little headcanons ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[lostalioth]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬

→ premise: peter needed to test how strong the new formula for his web shooters is so why not get his gf’s help, and have a little fun with it. its not like he had millions of other more scientific ways to test its strength.

→ pairing: tasm!peter x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, bondage [with peters webs], fingering, small edging, peter possibly ooc, nicknames [baby, princess]

→ a/n: kinktober 04

Sure Peter had plenty of other ways he could test out the strength of his newly formulated web fluid. But you were just so eager to help your boyfriend out, always asking him if there was something you could do. Sewing up gashes and holes in his spider suit, patching him up after a fight, etc. So why not enlist the help of his pretty girlfriend instead of testing it out the same old boring way he always did. Of course being unaware of his little scheme you innocently and sweetly said yes when he asked if you'd help him out with an experiment. That was how you ended up in Peter's bed, hands restrained together and stuck to the headboard with his webs.

His body was currently nestled between your spread legs, eyes roaming your body before fixing on your face. Your lower half is entirely exposed, the breeze from his open window nipping at your skin making you squirm. “This wasn't what I thought you meant when you asked for help, and I said yes Peter” you whine and buck your hips into his touch as his hands roam up your sides, rubbing and caressing your body. You can feel the cool metal of the singular web shooter strapped to his left wrist. “Oh this is fully what I intended when I asked baby, tug all you want, squirm all you want” he coos as he uncovers your breasts by pushing your shirt up to reveal them. “Need to test how strong the new formula is” he explains softly as his right hand falls between your open thighs, middle and ring fingers nudging open your slit and rubbing through your folds. Slick immediately collecting on the tips of his slender fingers.

With a sharp intake of breath you twist your body and try shifting your hips away from his hands. His free hand that has the web shooter aims towards your writhing leg and shoots webs that wrap your ankle tethering it to his foot board. “You sure this wasn’t what you intended, princess? You're so wet for me” he emphasizes his tease with a tilt of his head, smirking softly as his two fingers push at your hole.

You whine and push your hips back on his hand trying to get them inside you, your hole clenching at the small intrusion. “I missed you Pete, you've been so busy” you explain and look through your lashes at your boyfriend hovering over you, your eyes full of longing and love. “Awww well i'm here now baby” he leans down and presses his lips to yours just as his two fingers push knuckle deep inside you. You let out a short surprised moan against his lips as you kiss back greedily. You tug at the webs around your wrists, hands desperate and itching to touch Peter. “Keep tugging baby, try your hardest, you can do it” he mumbles into your mouth, his words both encouraging and mocking before humming when you whine in response. Goosebumps rise on your skin from the pleasure, his free hand coming to pin your hips down holding them still.

Pumping his fingers in and out of your leaking cunt, a sloppy squelching sound filling the room along with your muffled whimpers and moans. “Fuck!~” you let out a plaintive cry and pull away from peters mouth when his thumb is added in, stimulating your clit. Rubbing small circles on your bundle of nerves as his fingers speed up their movement, making your mouth fall open and your head fall back against his pillows. Your hands tug as well as your leg at his webbing, the action doing nothing to tear or unstick it. A heat spreading through your body, you liked this idea of him tying you up with his webs more than you could’ve guessed, the heat settling and growing in the pit of your stomach.

“Come on baby, i don't think your tryin’ hard enough to break out” he taunts as his long fingers find that spongy spot deep inside you and start abusing it, the rough pad of his tongue speeding up its circles. “Gonna have you cumming before you break the webs princess” he chuckles softly and leans down to kiss along the exposed column of your neck. Your head goes fuzzy from his mouth on you, his fingers ruthlessly thrusting inside you, the feeling of him all over you. “Can’t- I can’t do it Pete, i cant break em’ fuck- please baby im gonna cum!” you whine and cry out, your eyes squeezed shut as you teeter on the edge of your climax.

He grabs ahold of your chin and moves your head up the movement forces your eyes open, you stare into his deep brown eyes, his pupils blown.

“Not yet baby, the experiment hasn't gone on long enough, need to see if they break” his voice comes out sweet yet concedesing as he crashes his lips against yours to muffle your wanton moan.

Truthfully Peter had gotten enough information from all your squirming and pulling that he figured it was strong enough, he was just having far too much fun playing with his pretty girlfriend.

→ a/n: i havent written for tasm!peter in a bit so I feel like he’s possibly out of character ? Idk I felt rusty when writing him