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yoonia · 1 year ago

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the bedroom hymns ● chapter iii

⟶ Chapter summary | After your father announced his decision to send you away, the surprises don’t end there. But fate seems to be on your side this time, however, as the moment you set your mind to follow your father’s will, fate gives you its signs to show you that there is something more waiting for you at the other end.

chapter iii. dreamers

Last night, right the moment Yijeong saw you for the first time and had his curiosity drawn to you, the first thing that he thought of doing was to go straight back to Yoongi the first chance he could get and tell him everything that he was seeing—or, in this case, who he was seeing.

Once he shared his story and finally managed to voice out all the thoughts and doubts that came running through his head the whole night, he felt relieved. Seeing that Yoongi wasn’t making fun of him or dismissing his discovery, Yijeong also felt validated.

But the feeling didn’t last long.

Because Yoongi has become restless ever since. After hearing what Yijeong had to say, Yoongi rose from his seat and has been pacing back and forth since. His reaction is making Yijeong feels bothered. He begins worrying for Yoongi, and wondering if he should have found out more about you before sharing this information with his close friend.

“There was another man who joined us drinking last night, Hadi’s old friend. He’s the shopkeeper working for the town’s blacksmith in the southwest side of town, known as San,” Yijeong adds when Yoongi still hasn’t said anything after a moment has passed. Hearing this though, Yoongi immediately stops to listen. “I saw him chasing after her before she left the pub and they briefly talked. He was the one who spoke to her the most, so maybe he can tell you more about her.”

The entire time Yoongi is listening to Yijeong speak, he has his eyebrows furrowed, a sign that his mind is still working hard to comprehend all of this new information. He slips his hand into his pocket afterwards, reaching to find something that he can hold onto while he tries to gain back his composure.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yoongi says, almost absentmindedly. He then turns away, making his way to his writing desk without giving Yijeong another look when he dismisses him. “You should probably go back to your tent. We don’t want the other men wondering if something is going on after I called you in.”

The couch creaks as Yijeong pushes himself up, readying himself to leave. But he doesn’t step out before sharing his one last thought. “How much longer are you going to keep this disguise?” he suddenly asks Yoongi. He has been questioning the same thing for the past week, but never once had he gotten any reaction or answer from the other. “You know that you’re not supposed to be away for a long time. Not this long. Isn’t that why you couldn’t leave camp once the sun is out? I assume that you are slowly losing control of your mana flow and being out in the open at night would have made it worse.”

“I’m doing fine,” Yoongi snaps, though he quickly stops and calms himself down with a sigh. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’m not done here,” he says again once he is calmer. He tightens his grip on the object hidden inside his pocket, as if he is in desperate need for clarity as he whispers, “Not yet.”

Shaking his head, Yijeong shows displeasure to the answer given to him. “It wouldn’t hurt just to return home for a while to recover while you have the chance to. I’m sure your mother would love to see you back home again.”

“Would she?” Yoongi asks with a bitter chuckle, not even turning around to look at his friend when he says all of this. “I highly doubt it.”

“Well, you never know,” he hears Yijeong says. “If you really do want to keep this disguise longer, you need to get at least somewhere close to home, get your mana under control before you can carry on with whatever it is you’ve been doing out here in the human realm. Just think about it. I’m talking as a friend who have known you since we were kids to know when you’re the weakest, not as your subordinate who only sees you as a regular Captain of a rebel army.”

“Yijeong,” Yoongi suddenly turns and calls him out just as Yijeong is making his exit. Still with his hand hidden in his pocket, Yoongi stares at him deeply, saying, “Find out more about this lone traveller. Ask around and maybe pay this guy, San, a quick visit before the end of the day. And try to see if you can find other locals who might have seen her too while you’re out there.”

Yijeong grits his teeth and holds back from calling him out on his lack of response to his suggestion. “Is that all?”

“That is all.”

Noticing how Yoongi has chosen to disregard his advice about going home to recover his mana control, Yijeong can only exhale a deep sigh. “Got it,” he bitterly says, before bowing his head to mock a salute at Yoongi, “Captain.”

Once he is left all alone in his tent, Yoongi pulls out his hand, retrieving the amulet necklace that he has been holding tightly earlier to calm himself down. The amulet has been in his possession for as long as he can remember. A token that was handed to him when he went through the Culling, a stage that is much similar to what most humans go through when they reach adulthood. His coming of age. It is the most important part of his life when he finally reached his adult stage and gained his full powers.

It was said that the amulet would serve its owner by guiding them through life and to find what their soul truly need. Once Yoongi figured out what he was supposed to do, that he had something to find, he used his magic to activate the amulet to help lead him the way.

For many years, the amulet had rarely ever shown him its true powers, only reacting to mana energies that were similar to his own, when he had been searching for another. It wasn’t until he started following all the traces and hints which had him landed here in Smotia, when the amulet finally started showing some reactions, letting him know that there were magic existed here, hidden among humans without them realising its presence.

It was the moment that Yoongi initially came so close to The Citadel when the black crystal in his amulet started glimmering for the first time, its magic began vibrating to let him know about the magic that was present there. Then last night, when he felt the burst of energy flowing from downtown, it had been his amulet which confirmed that what he felt had been real.

Not only had it been awakened by the energy’s movements, but the black crystal had given him its strongest reaction, as it kept glimmering and vibrating as if it was telling him that he was so close to finding what he had been looking for.

It had become the sign that he was so desperately waiting for to see. To finally confirm that somewhere here in Smotia, hidden behind all the magic and the spells that have been placed to conceal its secret, he would finally be able to retrieve what had been taken away from him a long time ago.

His missing soulmate.

“Where is he? Where is my father?”

On any normal day, when the sun is setting down at dusk, you would find your father sitting in his study room as he does his last minute work before dinner is to be served. That was what you had expected when you barged into the study room, ignoring the guards standing by the door who tried to stop you from forcing your way in.

Instead of your father, the only one sitting by the massive desk in the middle of the room, wearing a startled look on his face when he saw you rushing in was none other than Advisor Kim. Standing right beside him, looking just as startled as he watches you with his eyes widened in fear is your father’s loyal aide, Marc, who seemed to be in the middle of helping the advisor with his work.

“Your Highness?” Advisor Kim rises from his seat once he snaps out of his shock, inquiring you, “Is there something wrong?”

With a deep inhale of breath, you calm yourself down, which is quite taxing when you have just run across the palace to get here until you were near out of breath. “Where has my father gone? I need to talk to him,” you ask the advisor, who suddenly appears a bit too nervous to answer your question.

“I’m, well—forgive me, Your Highness. But His Majesty is currently unavailable,” he tries to explain. “His Majesty is out handling a few business matters.”

That makes you stop. “When? Where?” you question him, wondering how you could have missed it, seeing that you had never seen any sign of His Majesty leaving the palace the whole day.

It might not have been uncommon for the King to be away during the day when he has important matters to deal with, but that couldn’t have been the case today. Not with all the security issues and the news that you had just gotten earlier. And after spending a lot of time outdoors in the palace’s property for your extra lessons and errands, you know that you would have seen it if he was to leave The Citadel.

Be it as it may, from the day until dusk comes, his royal carriage remained to be parked at its intended spot, while the guards showed no signs of tending to His Majesty’s departure, something that would have been easy to notice even under normal circumstances before all of these issues started coming up.

Advisor Kim appears flustered for a moment to hear your question. “I’m afraid I don’t have the liberty to say—”

Gritting your teeth, you refuse to back down. There was a purpose for you to rush through the palace to get here, and you are not leaving until you get an answer. With or without your father being present to give it to you. “Then tell me this,” you say to Advisor Kim, keeping a firm gaze on his face as you walk closer to him, denying him a chance of slipping away from you and ignoring your question. “Is it true? Have we received war declarations from the enemy’s kingdom?”

Advisor Kim draws back. His face looks a bit pale when he hears you talking about the declaration of war that may or may not have come from the enemy. Deciding that he has no way to escape from this conversation, and that the information he is holding must remain confidential, Advisor Kim instructs the aide and the guards who had followed you to leave the two of you alone in the room.

The advisor waits until the aide slips out of the room at the very last, gently closing the door behind him in his exit. Only then does Advisor Kim begin to relax a little, even if you can see the distress appearing on his face when he is answering your question. “Nothing is confirmed yet, but our informants have sent us emergency warnings about the enemies getting ready to attack. However, they can’t do anything yet until at least one of us declare war publicly while stating our demands from the other. So far, nothing has yet to be heard, but we are preparing ourselves for it in case they really are ready to make a move.”

You take a sharp inhale of breath, right before asking him again, “And the direct threat against my father?”

You watch as his eyes grow wide, showing you how surprised he is that you would hear anything about the incident. You had suspected that your father and his advisors had deliberately been keeping everything from you. The look in Advisor Kim’s eyes and the way he grows visibly defeated now only confirms it for you.

“There had been…an attempt.”

Hearing this, it almost feels like the air is being forcefully pulled out of your chest, more so than earlier when you first heard the rumours about it.

An assassination attempt was said to have been done just a few nights ago, when the palace was infiltrated by unidentified warriors who managed to make their way into the King’s chamber. That was the news that were spread among the guards, and it was all being kept as a secret under His Majesty’s direct commands. If it wasn’t for the fact that you had kept your word to Nanny Abigail about taking more lessons out in the gardens today, you probably wouldn’t have gone passed the courtyard by dusk—which was around the time for the palace guards to be exchanging shifts—and heard them mentioning the incident in the middle of their briefing.

You came here with nothing but denial, hoping that it would not be true. As you are now standing here in the King’s study room, listening to Advisor Kim as he not only confirms the news, but is now also explaining to you all the details about what had happened, it feels as if your world is being tilted around its axis, and you are being forced to wake up from your blissful dream where life remains calm and peaceful within the palace.

“Did my father get hurt? How about the culprit? Had any of them been apprehended?”

“The attempt failed because His Majesty managed to defend himself. Unfortunately, we had no witnesses from the incident aside from the guards who came in to assist His Majesty once they caught wind of the attack.” The way the advisor is telling you this, with a grim look on his face yet his eyes are glowing with pride, you can almost hear the words that he is not saying to you.

His Majesty King Aneas had slaughtered them all.

“But…do you have any suspects on who may have been the one behind it?”

“We don’t have any proof to help us in identifying the culprits, as the intruders had worn no markings or symbols that would have allowed us to track down where they were coming from,” Advisor Kim regretfully says. “We have been watching closely at the rebel army, observing their movements, as they were the last ones who were identified to make efforts to infiltrate the palace just before the incident. You may have seen them posing as the traveling mercenary soldiers who call themselves as the Brotherhood of Jorn. But aside from their sketchy movements around the capital, we are unable to tie them with the recent attack made to the King.”

The advisor stops for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Our only other suspect would be none other than our rival, Kosha Empire, seeing that despite all the rumours and prognosis that they might be launching an attack on us in the near future, their kingdom has been showing no movements and has kept themselves silent until the night His Majesty was attacked.”

While you are pleased to have gained enough detail from Advisor Kim, who is mostly known to be the more reserved one among the other advisors working for your father, all of this information is a bit too much for you to comprehend. With a nod, you slowly step away from him, needing some space to allow you to breathe some air, and perhaps clear your mind from all of this.

“I see…” you find yourself whispering, drawing a concerned look from the advisor.

“Your Highness, please understand. It was under His Majesty’s orders not to divulge to you anything regarding the situation,” Advisor Kim gently explains, thinking that you are disappointed or hurt for being kept in the dark about the dangers that the King has been facing. He is not entirely wrong, but those feelings have faded quite some time ago already. “The King—he didn’t want you to worry.”

“No, I understand,” you immediately say to him, even if it is partially a lie just to appease the poor advisor. You turn away and nod at the desk, where some papers that he seemed to have been studying when you barged in are spread. “I know that you still have matters to handle with while His Majesty is away. I should get out of your way, then.”

You leave behind Advisor Kim in the study room with an invisible weight on your shoulders and a painful pinch in your chest. It turns out that your suspicious were right, after all, that the situation has been way more dire than what they had all made you to believe.

Now, you can finally understand about your father’s odd demeanour—the way he always seemed tense and how he would appear to be so lost in deep thoughts since before the royal dinner—and also why your father and his men had been so adamant in finding the perfect solution to keep the peace, to handle all the political tension without giving a chance for an unwanted war to erupt.

Deep down, you silently wish that you can do something, instead of simply wallowing in your thoughts like this. Perhaps you can help him find a better solution, or maybe even fight alongside him when the time comes. You know what you are capable of, and you know that you would be able to do both of these things for your father and the kingdom.

As the Crown Princess, you have learned not only all the knowledge that you would ever need to take the King’s place and rule a kingdom, but you have also learned how to wield a weapon. A few of them, in fact, as King Aneas himself has always believed that in order to keep yourself safe from harm, you would need to be able to defend yourself against any threat that may come your way.

But how would you be able to do anything to help, when your father had chosen to keep things from you, keeping you in the dark and choosing to send you away when the empire is having its major crisis. It makes you feel powerless, not knowing what you can offer when you are made to feel as if your movements are restricted with the King’s final decision of taking you away from the palace.

Throughout the day, you had continued to feel apprehensive about leaving. Now, it seems like you have no other choice but to follow your father’s will.

At least, for now. Until you can find a way to come back stronger, and ready to stand side by side with the King when the time comes.

Nearly three days have passed since the morning King Aneas dropped the news about your departure, and much to your surprise, you haven’t been able to see him again since.

Nobody knew where the King has gone to, except perhaps for the royal aide and senior advisors who would often work closely with His Majesty, yet they all kept their mouths shut. The only thing that they could ever tell you was to remain patient, while advising you to focus on your daily lessons until His Majesty’s return.

It wasn’t until earlier during dinner when you finally saw the King again. His Majesty has made it yet another private affair, allowing the two of you to speak alone without the presence of his acolytes. Seeing him at the dining room after days of his absence left you feeling completely dumbfounded, so much so that all the questions that came running through your head the entire time he was away simply evaporated.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘Where have you gone to? Was it something serious?’

‘Is there anything else that you are hiding from me?’

You had wanted some answers, but the words just wouldn’t come out. And then you lost all the chance to speak when His Majesty questioned you first, “The carriage is ready, and I have prepared a team of guards to take you to the home castle tomorrow by dusk. Have you decided who you are going to choose to be your travel companion?”

Obviously, you had not gotten the chance to actually think about it, when your mind had been preoccupied with other matters. You may have surprised both the King and yourself when you told him, “Will it be okay if I ask Lady Abigail to accompany me on this trip?”

Despite being caught off guard with your choice, His Majesty had immediately agreed to your demands. He might even seem a bit relieved at your choice of companion, though it is heavily concealed by his astonishment. Then, later in the night, you quickly learn that your father hadn’t been the only one who was surprised at your decision.

“You could’ve chosen someone younger to join you on this trip. I’m afraid I won’t be as much help once I’m exhausted by the journey. You have three different lady-in-waiting to choose from who would’ve loved to accompany you,” Nanny Abigail comments once she arrives at your bedchamber after receiving the news. Yet, despite her grievance, she still lends out a hand to assist you when she sees that you are in the middle of packing your essentials for the trip.

“I couldn’t think of anyone else to ask,” you simply tell her with a shrug. “And I’ve sent all the lady-in-waiting who have been working with me back home to their families this afternoon.”

You aren’t lying when you say this. Earlier today, before you met your father, you had somehow decided to inform all the lady-in-waiting who have been assisting you during your lessons and royal duties to return back to their noble homes. With all the conflicts happening in The Citadel and your future absence, there would be no need for them to stay at the palace. Of course, you had kept all the recent incidents a secret from them, only letting them think that you had relieved them all from their duties simply because you had wanted to give them a short vacation so they could enjoy the Lemmus Rising events.

But there was another reason why you had decided to choose Nanny Abigail to come with you.

Lady Abigail was once your mother’s closest friend and attendant ever since before you were born, and remained your mother’s most trusted person until the day she passed on. It was the reason why Lady Abigail became the one who was entrusted to foresee your education and royal training, and even to assist you in your daily duties before you acquired your own aides after your coming of age. So it wouldn’t be wrong for you to choose her, your personal guardian, to come with you on this journey. There was also your worries about the threats and the assassination attempt that you heard the other day. Knowing how dangerous it would be to remain at the palace, and that Lady Abigail has no family to come home to in Smotia, you figured that it would be best to have her come with you to make sure that she would be safe.

Something that you know for sure that your mother would have done if she was still here.

“Did you come here to try and change my mind about inviting you to join me in this trip?” you ask her teasingly once you are done packing your luggage.

“Not really. His Majesty was the one who sent me here,” she admits. “His Majesty requested that I make sure you are to rest early tonight.”

You raise your brows at this. “But the trip won’t be until tomorrow evening.”

Nanny Abigail nods. “Indeed, but you will need the strength for the long journey tomorrow, and to not have you risk getting into trouble or injured before you are to depart.”

There is something in her words that gets you thinking deeply. You have wondered if your father had somehow found out about your night escapades or if she had informed him about the night she found you slipping out into the night and went missing until dawn. But you had never gotten the chance to confirm it. “Are we talking about the other night? Did my father really told you this, or you’re just worried that I’ll go crazy and decide to jump out of the window and disappear again tonight?”

Nanny Abigail turns, giving you a grim smile. “It is His Majesty’s formal request, made under my personal advice,” she firmly says to you, without confirming anything. “Which I also think would make perfect sense. You are about to embark on a journey which is meant to send you towards a safe place where no harm can reach you. It would be foolish if you should get yourself sick or let alone injured before that can happen, wouldn’t you think?”

You cannot deny that there is some truth in her words. But it isn’t like you were planning to escape tonight to have a stroll while there are a lot of questionable things going on at the palace.

“How far is this journey going to be?” you ask her, turning the conversation around when you find no answer to respond to her with.

“I won’t be able to tell, to be honest. I’ve never traveled that far, let alone going anywhere across Elcester Forest.”

You look out the window just then. Even if you cannot get a good view of the Elcester Forest from here, you can still picture it through your memory—the widespread of dense trees that seems to never end when you look at it from above. You have always wondered what you might be able to find on the other side, and it still sounds surreal to imagine that you are finally going to have a chance to figure out the answer soon. “I never knew that there would be a place so far out there that would still be under the empire’s rein, or that my father would own a property hidden somewhere beyond the forest,” you mutter softly, almost as if you are wondering out loud.

You turn away from the window before Nanny Abigail can say anything, and you give her a smile as you promise her, “Fine, then. I’ll go to bed. You don’t have to watch over me tonight. I have no plans on touring the towns tonight, after all.”

Hearing this brings a smile to Nanny Abigail’s face, showing you that she really did worry about you slipping out in the night to have your little adventure. “I’ve requested a sleeping remedy from the healer to help you sleep better tonight. Make use of it if you have any trouble sleeping,” she says as she turns away to leave, but not before she playfully adds, “Or if you are suddenly overcome with any urge to step out.”

Once she is gone, you take a small portion of the remedy to help you sleep. Not because you are afraid of giving into the urge to leave like what Nanny Abigail suspected you would, but only because you are worried that your thoughts would be much too loud once you are left alone to prevent you from getting a good sleep. You cannot deny that you have been feeling anxious ever since you found out that you are leaving so soon, so you are hopeful that the remedy may help calm your nerves so you can rest.

It doesn’t take long for the remedy to take effect once you slip into bed. But while it manages to calm the rapid thoughts that have been bothering your sleep at night, it only sends you towards a different kind of waking world, with vivid images coming to you in your sleep.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing on top of a cliff. The rocks around you seem almost as menacing as the rocky walls atop Mount Orrum, yet with patches of green grass and sand appearing here and there on the ground you are walking on. Before you can stop yourself, you walk up to the edge, and you are presented with a stunning look of the wide spread ocean opening up before you.

Steady water appears as far as your eyes can see, though you can see and hear the rapid waves hitting the sandy beach and the rocks below. For a moment, you hear nothing but the waves and the passing breeze, until a soft hum begins to reverberate through the air, passing together with the breeze flowing around you.

Like an enchantment, it calls out to you, luring you towards the rocky walls formed on the other side of the cliff. It isn’t until the moment you start walking towards the voice when you realise that you are completely barefoot. Looking down, you see the sand slipping between your toes, mud soiling the ends of your dress as you keep advancing forward steadily, yet you cannot feel a thing. Nothing except for the warm breeze falling on your skin and the invisible fingers brushing through your hair as you keep on walking.

You look up once you reach the cliff’s wall, and your heartbeat starts racing.

Right there, leaning against the rocky wall where the standing grey slate of rock roughly splits, appears a man standing with his back leaning against the rocks. He is wearing an all black attire with a robe hanging from his shoulders. Both the robe and his hair are dancing with the breeze, while his eyes appear as if they are glowing under the sunlight. An amulet necklace with a shimmering black crystal is seen hanging from around his neck, and your necklace seems to be oddly vibrating the more the glow appears before your eyes.

With unwavering gaze, the man steps away from the rock and makes his way towards you. Even his movements seem to captivate you, keeping you frozen right where you are standing, unable to move or to look away from his handsome face.

“It’s you,” he whispers to you as he stands right before you. His voice sounds like a spell as it drifts around you, enveloping you with its warmth.

“Do you know who I am?”

Instead of answering your question, the man simply smiles. His eyes drift down to your collarbone, understanding gleams through his gaze when he sees the necklace you are wearing. “The necklace,” he murmurs while reaching out to brush gently across the engravings on the golden framed pendant without touching your skin. There is a glint in his eyes which shows how astounded he is at the sight of your mother’s necklace hanging around your neck, as if he had just gotten an answer to a riddle that he could never solve. “Of course. I should’ve known.”

“What do you mean?”

He looks up to meet your gaze and slowly pulls his hand away. Instead of answering you, he merely speaks in riddles when he talks again, “I’ve been searching for you for a very long time. But you were kept hidden from me, even when you were so close to find.”

His words confuses you. “I’m right here,” is all you can say, and for some reason, it draws another smile to his face.

“Yes, here you are,” he says, though the expression on his face suddenly changes, and he looks crestfallen once his smile is gone. “But you cannot stay. I wish I could make you stay just a bit longer.”

But, why? You find yourself wondering, but the words refuse to come out. You suddenly feel yourself drifting away. As if he can feel it too, he reaches out to you one last time, touching the strand of hair that has fallen on the side of your face. You can feel the tip of his fingers brushing against your cheek, and you find yourself closing your eyes and leaning into his touch to embrace it.

“We will see each other soon, though. I can feel it,” he whispers, then all of a sudden, his touch disappears. You open your eyes as he pulls his hand away, and you fall silent as you watch him bending down, taking your hand in his before pressing his lips on the back of your hand. The touch of his lips leaves a tingle on your skin, one which lingers even after he releases you. And then, together with the loss of his touch, the world around you begins to fade. “I’ll come find you, Princess. I promise. This time, I’ll be able to catch up with you.”

“Wait!” you try to call out to him, but to no avail. Because everything vanishes all so suddenly.

The cliff and the ocean, and the captivating man who had just made both your hollow heart and your lonely soul come alive, all fade together as you are brought back to the familiar waking world just when the dawn comes.

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arcaneglitch · 2 years ago

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I Nearly Got Art Scammed

Hey guys. I wanted to share this story with you as a precautionary tale for artists that take commissions. It's one of those things you think will never happen to you until it does

So here's how I was almost a victim of an art scam and what you can to prevent scams from getting the better of you

This one started on ArtStation, which makes sense as a target since it's primarily a portfolio site for artists rather than a typical social media. It began with a standard question about commissions.

Nothing out of the ordinary, right? I replied that I was and asked if she would like a link to my commission form. In hindsight, her response should have alerted me that something was off because she didn't ask for the form. Instead she offered to pay $300 for a drawing for her son's birthday (just over a month out).

Still, if you're an artist desperate for commissions, you might overlook any oddities. We corresponded a bit more, sorting out details about the piece. That's when she sent this:

That's the first warning sign. These days, it's practically unheard of not to have an account set up with an online transfer service (think PayPal, Zelle, etc). Still, you might write it off as someone being a bit old-fashioned.

This is where the first tip comes in: be specific about how you accept payment and don't immediately compromise

At that point, we switched to email. She agreed to a pose for the commission on November 9th, then was silent. Two days later (November 11th), I emailed asking her to confirm additional details.

She didn't get back to me until November 14th.

This is another indicator of a scam (listed as one of the warning signs in articles). If someone was confirming details for a time-sensitive commission, it's highly unlikely they'd go radio silent for days, especially when they were responding consistently before.

A day later, she emailed to tell me that there was a problem with the check.

I replied and she gave me the details.

What she's attempting to do is execute an overpayment scam. They typically involve generous offers paid through atypical methods such as credit cards or cheques. Then the scammer will admit to some mistake with the payment (as above) or admit to overpaying you from the start while giving you a fake excuse. The excuse she came up with was fairly detailed, but I don't think there's any reason someone wouldn't be able to cancel a cheque that hasn't been cashed.

Later, she sent me this:

Also typical of an overpayment scam. You're asked to refund the extra money through an online transfer (she suggests Zelle later). If you follow through, you'll discover that the scammer either used a fake/stolen credit card or that their cheque bounced.

DO NOT SEND THEM MONEY. If you send them money, you will not get it back. Same goes for whatever you might have sold to them.

The part that tipped me off was her telling me I could send the money back through Zelle. Not that the stuff leading up to that wasn't fishy, but that's what drove it home.

She revealed that she has access to an online transfer service, yet she didn't offer to pay for the commission that way, despite it being much more convenient. I suppose one could argue that she wanted to send money from a specific account that wasn't set up with Zelle. But if that was the case, she could pay from the Zelle account and then cover with a transfer from the other one at a later date.

I asked her if reimbursing her was the only way, suggesting that using Zelle would be easier. She completely ignored the suggestion.

Again, in what situation would you not be able to cancel a cheque that has not been cashed?

By this point, I was pretty much positive that it was a scam. I shared screenshots of the emails with another artist friend of mine, and she agreed that it sounded like a scam.

In my last email to the scammer, I told her that it sounded like a lot of hoops to jump through and that I typically collect payment through online transfers. I said that unless we could work out an alternative form of payment, it sounded like she needed to find someone else.

Anyway, I figured I'd share the story here. Hopefully, it'll help my fellow artists and warn people about the dangers of scams.

Thank you for reading! You can find more information on overpayment scams here and here is a link to spotting the signs of an art scam.

#artist on tumblr #art scam #psa

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loveislattes · 4 years ago

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1 + 10 = Dark and Primal (Predator/Prey) Kink

Summary: Exactly what the title says!

Warnings: Reader is gender-neutral but does own a vagina, primal kink roleplay, semi-public sex, dom/sub, squirting, multiple orgasms, and dirty talk. Ye have been warned!

A/N: This is the first fic drabble to come from the number prompt game!

Tag List:

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

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“Tell me something,” A deep, rich voice spoke suddenly, “What’s a darling thing like you doing out here, all alone, so late at night?”

Instantly your head whipped to the side, eyes narrowing to scrutinize the tree line for any sign of the stranger, but found nothing other than darkness in return. You were about ready to continue on your trek and blame it on the sleepless night when the intruder let out a rumbling chuckle, the noise echoing around you in every direction.

Hairs now standing on end, you clutched your bag tighter to your body and asked nervously, “Who-Who’s there?”

“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

Your lips suddenly felt too dry, the night too cold, the lamp posts too dim, as you belatedly realized that you’d not seen another person on this sidewalk for way too long. It was just you and this stranger.

“I-I’m just walk-walking,” you stammered pitifully.

Dread pooled in your gut and the sense of being utterly alone and helpless intensified egregiously as one by one all the lamp posts in your line of sight flickered out.

“Ooh fuck,” you whispered.

Finally, your self-preservation instinct kicked in and you took off running. It was a dark night, the moon a sliver in waning crescent and providing almost no light. Every slap of your shoes on the ground felt like a league farther from the man. Even as your heart pounded in your ears and your lungs burned with the taste of blood, you didn’t dare slow down. How far would you have to run? Did you dare take your chances hiding out in the woods?

As soon as hope started to rise, it was quickly dashed back down.

“You humans, so fragile.”

The whispered voice in your ear tore a frantic scream from your throat, fear locking up your legs, sending you tumbling forward. Of course you would fall! It wasn’t until he laughed, a smooth luscious sound, that you realized you were braced tight for an impact that hadn’t come.

“What the…”

When your eyes finally opened, you saw the concrete of the sidewalk uncomfortably close to your face but not touching. And then you were lifted. Darkness shrouded your view as arms tightened around your torso and brought you back to your own two feet. A cool gentle breath caressed the shell of your ear seconds before you felt the familiar shape of a nose against your neck.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” he huffed bemusedly, “Think fast but run faster, little fawn, for it will take all of your abilities to escape me.”

“W-Who are you?!” you gasped out.

As the darkness left your vision and the hands retracted from your sides, he purred almost imperceptibly, “I go by Dark, but you may call me sir.”

Then all at once, you were alone. You hesitantly looked around, eyes wide with fear.

“RUN!”

A fearsome screech of terror scratched your throat raw as you stumbled and took off as quickly as possible. You knew if you stayed on the paved path he’d only catch you just as easily as before. You had to chance the forest.

No matter how quiet you tried to be, it felt like every noise you made called out to him thricefold. Your breaths sounded like alarms in your ears and the forest floor cried out like little spies with every timid step you made.

“Oh little fawn, where might you be?”

“Shit,” you whispered in shock.

How were you ever to evade him? It was obvious he wasn’t human. There was no possible way a human could catch up to you without making noise, could track you so perfectly in a nearly pitch black forest. Of course there were also the insane reflexes, catching you so close to the ground, and his ability to speak clearly to you while being nowhere in sight.

Oh so slowly, you let your guard down as you shuffled carefully through the heavily wooded area and got lost in your thoughts; finding out what he was, felt as important as hiding from him. A soft noise of triumph escaped your lips as you spotted a rather large hollow in the base of a giant tree. Your eyes darted around one last time to make sure you didn’t see anyone before you ducked into the wood shelter.

Just as your back pressed up against the trunk, you heard a twig snap outside. The forest was uncannily quiet, no sound of animals nor wind to impede noises made by either you or him.

“A smart little thing you are, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught as fear slammed your heart into your ribcage like a drum. His voice was close, too close. Another crunch of branches and leaves drew your eyes to the right of your hollow. Even in the darkness of the woods, his black pants stood out against the greens and browns. Your assailant was wearing… suit pants? Despite the silliness of the situation, your nerves only increased as he crept closer and closer to you.

“Where are you?” he sang out lowly.

Hushed humming graced your ears delightfully as he passed you, hands clasped behind his back as if simply taking a nice stroll. You couldn’t control the way your stomach fluttered as the beautiful cadence of his voice filled the hollow. Someone so dangerous shouldn’t sound so inviting.

A quick rush of air released from your lungs as he continued on without incident and relief filled your veins. Head falling back, you let your eyes close and took deep slow breaths.

“It’s adorable that you think you’ve won, my little fawn.”

There wasn’t a word deep enough to describe the bone-chilling terror that flooded your body at the sound of his voice so close. Slowly your eyes fluttered open, only to discover a pair of legs standing in front of your only exit.

“Come out now, admit defeat, and I might even be gentle with you, darling,” he offered slyly.

“Fuck you,” you grit out.

Before you could second guess your actions, you bolted forward, right into his legs. While you were sure you didn't harm him, your actions surprised him enough to allow you the room to shove by. You had made it only a couple feet when hands were on you, one gripping your shoulder while the other pinched around the nape of your neck. A cry of shock and pain fled your lips as he shoved you face-first up against the nearest tree and pinned you with his body. Escape was looking more and more like a fool’s dream and yet you didn’t stop wiggling, trying your hardest to break free to no avail.

“Mmm, I do love it when my dinner puts up a fight, makes you smell all that more delectable,” he purred as his thigh slipped between yours, “And don’t fool yourself into believing I can’t smell just how aroused you are.”

Mortification burned up your face and you bit your lower lip hard to contain the distraught noise that threatened to break forth as he leaned into you. The pressure of his thigh served to further argue his point, your panties soaking up the slick between your thighs.

“P-Please,” you whispered shakily.

“Please what?” he mocked, “Please let you go? Now, you know I can’t do that, darling. I’m absolutely ravenous and you’re ripe for the taking.”

Teeth gently grazed the tender flesh of your throat and sent goosebumps across your flesh.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had such a sweet little human to play with,” he groaned quietly.

Fingers teased the sliver of skin poking from beneath your top, tracing the waistband of your shorts with languid little strokes; teeth mimicking the action against your neck.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this, darling. I’ve smelled your interest since the instant you started to run,” he whispered, giving another gentle roll of his hips.

Before you could contain it, an excited little squeak escaped as you felt the hardening bulge grind against your ass.

“There it is. Give in to me,” Dark murmured, “I promise this will be an experience unlike any other.”

You didn’t dare give an answer. The words felt too wrong on your tongue despite the sudden urge in your body demanding an agreement. As terrifying as he was, there was something about his presence that intrigued you. It felt like there was a war going on in your head as you gingerly wiggled your hips back against him and tilted your head to the side, allowing him full access to your neck.

The moan he gave in return made your knees weak.

In one rough movement, you heard the tell-tale rip of your shorts being ruined and then your hips were lifted in the next.

“Ooh, look at the mess you’ve made of yourself, little fawn,” he cooed mockingly as a finger danced across your lips, “It will be all the easier to make you mine.”

That was your only warning before his cock was lined up against your cunt, thick head breeching every so slightly before he slammed in. Tears sprung up into your eyes and you buried your face harder against the bark as a pathetic cry warbled out. It was devastating and heavenly all at once. When he didn’t follow up immediately, you couldn't help but arch back into him.

“What a needy little thing you are,” he chuckled, “I’m going to have so much fun with you before I destroy you.”

Never in a thousand years did you think you’d find yourself in this position, being hunted down and fucked in the middle of the forest, and yet there wasn’t a place you’d rather be in that moment.

Dark’s pace was brutal, the position even more so. Every thrust of his cock rocked you up against the tree, bark scraping and digging at your skin. Every attempt to move back sunk him deeper inside you. It felt like a never ending sea of desire. It wasn’t long until you were begging for more, until the sting of the micro cuts on your skin was just another layer to the destructive pleasure coiling in your core.

“You want more? You want to come? Then touch yourself,” he ordered huskily, “Rub your clit and make yourself come on my cock while I claim you as mine.”

His meaning came through loud and clear. He intended to mark you in the most primitive of ways, in ways no one had before. You’d never let any other come inside you, too afraid of the risks.

“N-No, don’t-”

Fingers dug into your wrist and jerked your hand down between your cunt and the tree, forcing you where you wanted it most.

“It’s no use, darling, it’s too late,” he snickered, “You’re already in the lion’s den and there’s no escape. Not anymore. You belong to me now.”

You could feel his teeth bared a wicked smile against your skin before they clamped down around your throat. Pain exploded and pulsed through your veins with every beat of your racing heart, and yet it pervertedly only urged you faster. Your fingers shook under the duress of all the sensations assaulting your nerves but you worked them nonetheless, too lost to the desire.

His moan rumbled through your very being as you tightened uncontrollably around him, teetering just on the edge of bliss.

“Mine.”

That one word was spoken with such conviction and punctuated with absolute abandon, all sanity lost as you seemingly became a means to an end; a prey to claim and fill.

“Mine! All mine,” he snarled against your shoulder, “Give yourself to me, now!”

His hand came to cover yours and joined in the efforts, frantically abusing your sensitive nub until finally it all snapped.

“Ah f-fuck, D-Dark, oh my god!”

Your ruse slipped as his name spilled from your lips, but you couldn’t care less as everything coalesced with a vengeance. The pain, the pleasure, the emotions. It was all worth it as your pleasure drenched your thighs, a sob falling from your lips in debauched relief. Pulse after pulse of ecstasy rocked through your core as he fucked you through your first climax into another, and then another.

Stifled grunt and moans shifted gradually into full blown snarls of bliss as he threw your hands up against the tree, pinning both with one while his other arm wrapped around your waist and held you in place.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Shot after shot of hot cum filled your core, palpable with every throb of his cock, and you couldn’t resist melting back into him. With a final few thrusts, he released your hands only to pull you in close and hold you upright as he turned, putting himself between you and the tree as you both came down from the high.

“Holy hell,” you giggled, head tilting back to look up at him.

Dark gave a little chuckle and cupped your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and directing you up into a gentle kiss.

“I promised the full experience. Was anything too much?” he asked.

“Mm-mm. It was perfect,” you whispered.

As best as you could in the awkward position, you snuggled back into him and pulled his arms around you.

“You can hunt me any time you want,” you admitted cheekily.

#dark/reader #primal kink #predator/prey #kink prompt #smut #fanfic

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starshiningsirius · 4 years ago

Text

Our adorable little junior (Yandere Vice dorm heads x reader)

The dorm heads aren't open to compromise as much as the vice dorm heads who are more civil. Surprisingly I can't find any yandere fics with all the vice dorm heads simping for one darling. Despite them being more scary, manipulative, and having more husband material.

I thank @writer-akihiko for the inspiration I had in the middle of the night to bring you this.

Color coded speaking habits are based off dorm colors and what tumblr had, so keep that in mind.

💝💗HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY 💗 💝

It all started with you wobbling through the courtyard only to bump into someone. They held on to your shoulders to keep you from falling to the floor immediately.

"Woah there! Y/n? What's up with you? You were weaving back and forth through the courtyardwith every step. Your not sick are you?" A slightly worried or rather maybe that was in your head to call it slight, maybe that was a illusion in your mixed up head.

You looked up to see a tuft of green hair with a pair of glasses that reflected golden eyes, and an unmistakable clover on his cheek.

"Ah Trey, no I was just studying for magical history a bit too late last night and now I'm --" Has Trey always felt this warm and soft? What ever the case it made him the perfect pillow as you slumped over toward him, which startled him for a second before he heard your soft snores and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Geez don't scare me like that, it's rather worrisome that you'd fall asleep like that out of nowhere." He held her up a bit more to have her leaning on him as support. He was able to see the calm sleeping expression you had on your face.

"Still so naive though, if it was any other guy how do you think they'd react to such a vulnerable girl in this situation." He had a faint blush on his cheeks as he pushed up his glasses and made his way to Heartsbyul with you in tow before lunch would be over.

Thankfully he made a few sweets yesterday giving you one would give you a bit more energy not to mention the look on your face that would light up would be worth it.

The next day Rook had approached you after classes. Before you could say any sort of greeting he dragged you off to Pomeifore without providing an explanation. When you both arrived tea was already made for some reason, and small treats like macaroons were set in the lounge.

"Mon chérie I heard from Rose Chevalier that your in need of some assistance in magical history, I could be of aid to you." She contemplated his words, wondering who he was talking about before immediately assumed Trey. That made sense as they were both in the science club.

The offer he made did sound very tempting, she needed as much help as she could get.

"Yes please I'll be in your care Rook-senpai!" That short phrase did send a few butterflies in his stomach.

She was just as cute as when she slept at night. He did take a few pictures without your knowledge and managed to distribute them out to the others but there were these other expressions he saved in his head that were exclusive for him to see.

The radiant smile and look of triumph you showed toward him when you understood the concept he told you about. It was much more lively, he couldn't choose what he liked more the vibrancy of your smile or the vulnerability of your sleeping expression. Either were just fine afterall you were such beautiful person one that could do anything and would still have shown its beauty in his eyes.

That ended another day for you.

The next had you struck with some bad luck. As your pocket had gained a hole in it. Whatever money you had for lunch had been lost too. If you traveled back to your dorm all the good stuff would be gone, but it would be better than starving so you left the cafeteria. On the way in the halls you saw Jade who inquired where you were off to when lunch just started.

You told him your dilemma and he told you to follow him. After walking all the way to Octanivelle in silence and entering the Mostro Lounge you thought if he was going to try and convince you to sign a contract, but he only asked you to sit at a booth and wait for him.

20 minutes into lunch and he came back with some food for you both.

"Ah, Jade you didn't have to do that! I can pay you back just tell me the cost and I'll-" He leaned over a little bit and held a finger to your lips with a closed eyed smile on his face.

"It's fine, why not enjoy the meal? I made it with your tastebuds in mind. Afterwards preferably after class I can sew up the hole you mentioned." He removed his finger, but it didn't stop your face from heating up and turning red to the tips of your ears.

The reaction was cute in Jade's eyes seeing you nod obediently and take bites of the food he made with an embarrassed expression. It was all too entertaining for him, such entertainment made his heart rate accelerate rapidly and he'd keep sneaking glances while he ate himself. For it was always wonderful to bask in your presence.

Yet another day came to an end and another began. It was on this day that you didn't have to worry about lunch either. Jamil handed to you a bento box. You thanked him with a big smile on your face.

Your bright smile radiated so much energy, it looked like you genuinely appreciated his effort he put into making this. Such a smile made him pull down his hoodie a bit more to hide his blush taking over his face.

"It's not anything impressive, but since you like it just ask and I'll have lunch prepared for us everyday. It's no trouble." For you was what he meant to say. If it meant seeing such an expression again it certainly would be well worth the effort.

"Thank you Jamil! Kalim always says your food is the best I can't wait to try it!" That caught him off guard, hearing his own heart pound and feeling his face rise in temperature he thanked the great seven he wore a hoodie.

He put it over his face and waved it off saying the same response he'd have for everyone else downplaying his own capabilities, but she eagerly denied it causing even more embarrassment on his part. God another thing Jamil couldn't stand about Kalim was when he ran his mouth.

* * *

That very same day that started with luck had dropped significantly and took an opposite turn to bad. The misfortune of bumping into a few Savanclaw students whom find simple reasons to get angry whether they started it or not.

Luckily before they could throw a punch they suddenly started fighting each other for some reason. From their conversation it didn't sound like they were in control of their bodies in the first place. As soon as it started they suddenly stopped and ran off with anger for one another after embarrassing themselves.

A voice came from behind her that startled her for a split second before she recognized it.

"You've got to be more careful, Savanclaw is the dorm to avoid picking a fight with, Y/n." Ruggie came from around the corner twisting his magical pen in between his fingertips before placing it in his pocket.

Before Ruggie could chastise his junior a bit more she ran up and hugged him.

"Thank you Ruggie! If there's anything you need then I'm at your service!" He didn't hug back. For one is was abrupt and when his mind actually processed feeling your warmth radiating off you on to him, his face flared up.

His ears twitched and he tried to occupy his mind with some other thought to preoccupy which only led him to recall your words.

'Anything? Doesn't she know that prey like her shouldn't just say whatever.' He wasn't denying the fact that the offer sounded so sweetly tempting to take her up on, but with the others taking their chances with you and him low on the food chain out of the five others he knew the risk wasn't worth it.

"No it's fine just watch yourself next time. I may not be here to help all the time."

How many times had a student helped you now?

The next morning Lilia had joined you.

The thing is while Lilia was regailing an enchanting tale of his past it kept you occupied in not noticing the five other pairs of eyes that had set themselves on watching mainly you. Whether it was them keeping an eye on their dorm heads, or on their way to their own class they kept their eyes trained for as long as they could before she left their sight.

Lilia had heard the details from Ruggie and out of all the vice heads he was the most free as the others were commanded to do things by their dorm heads or were their unofficial babysitters. Lilia of course was the strongest and most capable by far out of all six of them. So he had jumped at the chance of being able to brighten up your day with many of his travel stories.

Seemed like you were spending more time with the vice prefects more than usual. Though Savanaclaw had none Ruggie was pretty much the unofficial for it.

They were reliable, more so than their dorm heads at times, that could be said for mainly Jamil, Ruggie, and Lilia. But some had proved their skills far exceeded their position and it was known to other dorms as well, like Jade, Rook, and Trey.

But with all these people who adore one so much to the point of doing anything for her, it had to go bad at some point. Obsession festers for many reasons, like worry, denial, or paranoia.

In this case its deemed worry.

The very next day you were offering sweets you made yourself to the six of them to thank them for their aid the past couple of days. They were all so happy, nothing would damper their mood for the rest of day, knowing you appreciated how much effort they put in for you. Well of course it didn't last long it didn't matter who you went to see last, mainly either Jade or Jamil, or Rook too. They were the type to pay attention to the little things. Though this time they were a bit preoccupied with their own deeds. You had found Jamil last as you assumed he'd be busy with Kalim the majority of the day. He was in the kitchen as usual fixing tomorrow's lunch for Kalim and him, and her too.

He was happy to accept the treat until he noticed how you looked. You looked like you were spent. He noticed your smile, one they adored to the point of insanity looked forced. Not to mention it looked like you were wearing make up under your eyes, in which he assumed you were tired and had to hide your eye bags.

He tried to tap you on your forearm before you could go and leave, but when you froze and winced with a petrified look, that's when he began to notice something had been wrong than what he already had imagined. He was worried seeing as the state of your expression was slight fear, but it didn't look to be of him.

When he asked her to tell him what's wrong, you asked to first be brought in private to hear the dilemma. He decided his room would be best seeing as the desert of Scarabia at night got cold.

When they both entered she immediately broke down. Usually she always seemed so positive but this was the complete opposite. He tried comforting and coaxing you into telling him what happened, so he could eventually inform the others in their group chat and eventually you did. Though it made whatever self restraint he had held back within his life snap.

You told him of how yesterday a student came up and flirted with you. You politely disregarded him, but the student didn't get the memo. He had gripped your arm tight enough to cause a bruise. That's when you kneed him in his gut and once he let go, used your leg to make his head hit the floor with a blow to the neck, successfully knocking him unconscious. You ran back to your room after that without looking back. Then you thought back to all the good deeds recently the vice heads had done, and decided you'd haven't been showing enough appreciation toward them. That's why you gave him and the others treats.

He also interpreted that he had touched you where the bruise was located and given you slight PTSD in which he apologized for his earlier actions. You probably didn't get much sleep either. You told him it was fine since he was just trying to figure out what was wrong and that you were just caught off guard. No soon after you finished your statement did he ask to see the bruise in which you received.

Slowly you took off your blazer and uncovered the bandages located where your elbow was on the inner part where the skin was softer and bone was located. That made his heart stop to see the bruise you obtained. His thoughts ran rampant with the thought of what he would do to the person who did it. Surprisingly he was never usually angry for someone else's sake but you had made it that way.

He had to put on a front for you though and he told you to stay while he got a pack of ice to ease the swelling. While away walking through the halls of his dorm he was seething with rage. One would think if someone touched him it would be the end of that person's life when he released such anger.

He started to text in the chat where all the vice dorm heads would inform each other of their encounters and Y/n's problems to find solutions. He told them to gather in Scarabia at the fountain for an urgent situation pertaining to their favorite little junior on his phone, though he would have informed them through the chat, he was more focused on getting the ice pack. They agreed to meet up in said dorm that their junior was currently in to hear the details from him himself.

When he had finally made it back to his room he found the person of their obsession in question asleep on his bed with their blazer still in the same spot and legs dangling off the bed as to not have her shoes touch the covers. Hugging his hoodie as a pillow of sorts. He would have savored this sight if not for the tear streaks that were on your face and the prominent bruise in the same spot.

He gently placed the ice pack on her arm and brushed away the stray tears and streaks with his thumb. The sight was normal for him considering Rook had distributed sleeping pictures to all of them. This was realer than any picture though. Soft breaths rhythmic breaths and silky hair like an angel.Despite that you looked to be uncomfortable seeing as the arm you were using had to replace the other one that was bruised and probably hurt to bend. He softly sighed knowing he had to get ready as the others would arrive soon and that the situation would not be pretty for the misfortune planned that ignorant person who dared lay a finger on their favorite junior would receive.

When everyone had arrived in the meeting dorm all had sour moods to be called a bit late after set curfews in two of the dorms or just the time taking away from their leisure after taking care of tasks that came with their position.

"It seems we're all gathered here now, Monsieur Multi-Compétent why have you called us here in the late hours?" Rook had a smile on his face which was normal but he was intrigued and serious about the matter at hand.

"You mentioned it's urgent regarding to our little angelfish correct?" Jade as well had his usual smile, but the slightest glimpse in his eyes had a rather invited gaze.

"You sure you couldn't have just texted it to us, it woulda saved us the trouble of coming here." Ruggie grumbled.

"I know you all are busy, but tell me did you notice something off about her today?" Jamil inquired to the other five.

"Now that you mention it when she gave me the treats she made it seemed like she was off. I was focusing on some tasks Riddle gave me so I didn't think too much of it." Trey had thought back to hearing her call out to him in a lower tone of voice.

"She didn't seem too energetic either when she gave me mine either. Sebek was a bit of a handful so I couldn't pay attention as much as I liked to her and she said she had to go give out the others." Lilia remembers asking her to stay for a little longer but she put up a facade and said she had other things to do.

The others agreed on the same notion that today she lacked her usual energetic, positive, behavior. Since their dorm heads and first years put them through the wringer today they didn't have time to think much on it. Jamil was used to dealing with Kalim's mayhem and chaos since they were children and had learned to still be skeptic even if he was exhausted or at his wit's end.

"Exactly, seems as though someone laid their dirty fingers on her the day prior and now she's a bit broken down mentally." Jamil had informed them of the situation, fully going into depth and detail seeing their facial expressions change throughout the retelling.

"Right, now I know you all want to see her, I can do that but you've gotta be quiet. She fell asleep in my room because she wanted to talk in private. She and other dorm residents are asleep so try to keep noise to a minimum."

They all had no reservations about that. He guided them to his room in which he did have some irritation toward letting them in. Thankfully he hid the picture Rook gave him so she wouldn't see it unless she looked. Slowly opening the door to see the sleeping girl, they surrounded her unsuspecting figure. They examined her for a moment taking in the sight before noticing the tear streaks on her face and the ice pack placed near her elbow.

Seeing the ice pack on her arm Rook steadily removed it to give the others a glimpse of the injury. Some of them froze while others who usually weren't so expressive of true feelings like Lilia, Trey, and Jamil had a look of anger. The ones who were more prone to dirty methods and violence like Ruggie, Jade and Rook had a look of bloodlust for the person who dared to do such a thing, despite Jamil having already saw it.

They all exited the room and ventured to the common room, closer to the outside section.

"Such a poor unfortunate soul, he doesn't even know the enemies he made."

"How foolish of them to touch something that's ours."

"Oh Rose Chevalier, you've been rather silent, no objection to such acts?"

"Don't get me wrong I'm angry, Rook. It's not as if I can stop you all from doing something horrible to some idiot. Fights happen all the time at this school."

"I'm sure I could find the idiot in no time, it's much easier to catch unsuspecting prey!"

"Since you all have your 'plans' I'll go and make a potion to rid her of that unsightly injury that foo-, I mean so she won't have to feel anymore pain."

"Since that's all finished what do you all suppose we do about her?"

"We've got to keep a better eye on her."

"Yes that much is clear, but with all of us having to be so busy all at once, going about that is rather difficult."

"Especially since she's a lot more frail, if the student were a beastmen then she probably wouldn't have gotten away."

"I propose we reveal ourselves to our angelfish. She may not like it at first, but it's clear that unless we know where she is at all times then we can't ensure her safety."

"Whose dorm is best suited to keep her there?"

"I was going to offer up my own, I'm sure your dorm heads would condemn our act of unsavory deeds, but Azul is different of course. Just let me handle all the details."

"As expected of Monsieur Mastermind, fully equipped to handle the situation."

"While that is going on, Ruggie how about you bring that cretin to Diasomnia, I'd love to have a chat with him. Don't worry I'll make sure no one is nearby to hear his fate."

"Ah, okay. Better than bringing him to my dorm and having to clean up a mess."

"Oh how about you let me in on your conversation, Monsieur Curieux, and I'll bring a few things to aid in the clean up Monsieur Dandelion!"

"Trey I need a favor."

"Depends on what the favor is?"

"I heard you can change the taste of something with your unique magic. Can you cast a spell on the potion before she drinks it? She's already suffered enough a disgusting potion is an easy fix."

"That's nothing, too complicated. Hand it over to me when it's finished once it's done."

* * *

Screams could be heard within the bounds far away from Diasomnia. Near the edge of a cliff stood three people while another person was on the ground. Burned, bruised, and battered not to mention a few broken bones, and loss of some organs devoured. They were proud of what they did to say the least.

Ruggie had the most blood on him mainly around his mouth while Lilia had some on his hands, Rook had a blade coated in it and still managed to get some on him. The lifeless corpse on the ground was where the blood had originated from as they tossed it off the cliff.

Lilia had cast green flames in order to rid the evidence. It was easy for Rook to cast a spell to clean their clothes with. Now they just have to go meet up with the others.

* * *

Based off the decorum of the room, she could only assume she was in Octanivelle. That's where she had woken up, but she remembers Scarabia last. Soft covers on top of her were thrown off as she hurriedly looked around the room to see no one.

She tried to go toward the door and twist the knob only for it to not budge. Using magic as well didn't move the door an inch. Her pen was gone too, so she was limited without its usage. Not to mention first years only knew so much less you came from a country where magic usage was prominent like the Valley of Thorns then it was likely you weren't to know much before entering school.

She sighed and took a moment to sit back down on the bed she woke up on and think why she was brought here. The last person she saw was Jamil, and she was in his room last but that didn't spark anything as to how she ended up here. She hoped at least that Jamil was okay if she was here by force then he might have tried to stop the captors and got hurt in the process.

The door opened after about an hour she heard the key being inserted. It revealed Jade who stepped in the room with a smile and revealed five others who came in with Lilia slowly shutting the door back closed.

All of them she recognized were Vice dorm heads who she had spent time with the past couple of days. She didn't open her mouth yet still trying to piece things together, and the first to come to mind was that they brought her here. Connecting the dots over the past several days she spent time with them more than anyone, and they each seemed to know her problems or were curious about them.

She just couldn't understand why though. Nothing added up and when she glanced at each of them a nervous shiver came through her body.

She finally decided to speak.

"Why, .......... would you do something like this?

"Because prey like you, has to be protected."

"Such a sweet thing could easily be devoured."

"That's why your such delicate and fragile flower."

"Precious and meant to be protected like the most valuable treasure."

"Mon amour we do commend you for defending yourself but fret not,"

"Our dear little angelfish we'll fix all your problems so that you have no worries."

Masterlist

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poptod · 4 years ago

Note

Would u be up to writing a crack fic where Ahk eats some dodgy food and gets violently ill from it and in his food poisoning induced delirium starts to like hallucinate and think that gods are against him and hanging out with him and stuff. so yeah. (also omfg never noticed the ostrich part in NATM!!!)

notes: YEA that fucking ostrich is hilarious and YES this sounds fun. u didn’t say if this was xreader or if this was in egypt or in the museum so i took some liberties, hope that’s alright! i also really ran with this so apologies for the length WC: 2,222

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Now, now, that’s no way to refer to your husband,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You are not - we’re not married,” you hissed.

“Not yet,” he said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. Ahkmen wasn’t King yet, but you still held the position as his advisor, placed there by both Ahkmen’s choice and his father’s insistence.

Now, however, you were focused on a different, more pertinent issue. An entire bag of almond date rolls had been thrown away for Ahk to find, opening the sack to find them untouched. Since he had little to no self control—which was why you were there to begin with—he immediately began eating them.

“There isn’t anything wrong with them,” he said through a mouthful.

“You don’t know that,” you said, still glaring up at him.

He swallowed before promptly stuffing another whole roll in his mouth.

“Stop that!” You said, and batted the sack out of his hand.

The cinch released and the rolls went flying down a sandy hill, reaching the river outcrop at the bottom. Ahk watched, miserably, as they disappeared.

“You have access to date rolls anytime you like in the palace,” you reminded him.

“But it’s such a long walk back, and I like it here,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the forested hill overlooking the Nile. Shade stretched over your bodies and the reed blanket beneath you, allowing the wind to cool your sun-beaten skin.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you said, leaning back to lie down.

“How funny, then, that you are my life,” he said with a grin, following you till he propped himself up on his elbow, his free hand resting on your chest.

He stared at you, scanning you as you half-glared at him.

“What do you want?” You asked, looking up unimpressed.

“A kiss,” he said, puckering his lips.

“Shut up!”

You shoved him onto his back, laughter wracking his body.

A little while later you found yourself once more obeying Ahk’s whim, though his father had warned against that, and followed him in short steps down the tall dune. Solidified, plant-filled earth gave way for free falling sand that drifted off the slope and towards the riverbank.

The water during this time of year was at a steady but slow pace, flowing from south to north as the sun’s rising and setting indicated. Wind that once cooled you now brought hot air, exacerbated by the overzealous sun, who you imagined could burn even your ink-black skin. Sand avalanched around your still feet, landing you at Ahk’s side.

“Luncheon will be soon,” you reminded.

“I’m aware,” he said flatly. “Can’t I simply enjoy myself for once?”

“No.”

He waded out into the water, his shoulders tensing at the chill and only releasing as he went deeper. Once the red water reached his knees, just barely soaking the edge of his skirt, he called to you.

“Come join me,” he said, offering you his hand.

“We should go back to the palace,” you said.

“Come now, it’ll be hours before lunch,” he whined.

“It’s one hour. And you can’t be wearing that,” you said, gesturing to his outfit that consisted of no more than a skirt, partially torn and covered in dirt.

“Then take it off me,” he said with a sly grin.

You scowled at him, going over your options for a moment before you acted.

Once you decided, you waltzed into the river, soaking your sandals as you approached him. Satisfaction filled his gaze as you came closer, his hand still outstretched to you.

At last you took his hand, tugging him forcefully towards you. He let out a grunt, but before he could say anything, you reached forward and released the clasp keeping his skirt on him, allowing it to fall in the running water and drift away.

“Hey!” He cried, attempting to go after it, but stopped by your hand still in his. He turned back to you, a shocked look on his face as he said, “what was that for?!”

“Dawdling. Let’s go back to the palace.”

“Like this?!” He yelled, gesturing to his naked body. You snorted.

“You don’t mind. I know you don’t. You just want to be mad at me,” you said in a definitive voice.

“I don’t-“

“Come on, Prince,” you said, tugging him past you so he stumbled towards the shoreline. As he just barely got his standing you slapped his butt, pushing him forward further.

Ahkmen fell silent—as he rarely did—after he’d been dressed and was on the way to the garden, where the Pharaoh had arranged a feast he made and placed for himself, his family, and the ambassadors visiting from Punt. You were not invited, but you watched from above alongside the youngest Prince’s manservant. Ahk’s room was placed right above the western gardens, large arches within allowing a plenty good sight out, which you and Naguib took advantage of.

“He’s squirming an awful lot,” Naguib noted after several minutes of silence.

Naguib laid on his stomach, his chin propped up on his palms, in turn resting on his elbows on the stone floor. You sat nearby, leant against one of the arch pillars with a tablet of baked limestone on your lap.

At his comment you looked over the ledge, easily finding the trademark golden crown Ahk bore.

“How so?” You asked.

“Look at his legs,” Naguib said, and your eyes turned to his fidgeting crossed legs, “and his hands.”

His fists were clenching and unclenching.

“Should we check in on him?” He asked gingerly.

“.... nah,” you said after a moment. “I’m sure it’s fine. He’s probably just upset I slapped him on the arse.”

Naguib choked on his own spit, bursting into manic laughter.

“You slapped the prince’s ass??” He asked incredulously through gasps of laughter. “How’d he react to that?”

“He stripped me,” you answered, returning to your tablet with little waver in your voice.

“What -“

“That might’ve been because I took away his skirt, though. In that case, he just looked at me really strangely,” you said.

“How so?”

You twisted your expression to reflect what you remembered, a strange mix of confused, angered, and one feeling that was almost always at the forefront of Ahk’s mind—horny. Naguib burst into another round of laughter.

Several minutes later, after your conversation died down, Naguib looked back over the ledge and frowned.

“He’s gone,” he said.

“Who what?”

“Ahk, he isn’t there anymore,” he said, pointing to the empty cushion where Ahk had been sitting. You shifted to see.

“Huh. What do you think happened?”

Bursts of metal latches and swinging hinges interrupted you before either of you could think of an answer, followed by the wooden frame of the door slamming against the other wall. Both of you darted to look behind you, finding several different servants entering, a limp Prince in their arms.

Instantly you jumped to your feet. Naguib joined you, though much slower, and you both made your way to his bedside once the servants set him down.

“What happened?” Naguib asked, a hand on the bed as he looked up to one of the servants.

You set your hand over his forehead, testing his temperature, and using your sense of magic to reach into his veins, searching for a perpetrator.

“He hasn’t got a fever,” you noted, earning a nod from the servant tending him.

You made to search again before Ahk moved, groaning softly as he curled into himself, clutching his stomach.

“Ahk? Are you alright?” You asked—probably too quickly—as you knelt at his side, panic pounding its way into your heart.

“Ugh,” he grumbled, just barely wheezing out his breaths. “Alive. Right now.”

“What are your symptoms?”

“Stomach,” he breathed, halting as he flinched, his hands moving to slap over his mouth.

“Bucket!” You said to the servant, who nodded and rushed for one of the buckets in the nearest closet. “You’re going to throw up, its alright. Get it out.”

“Ughhh...” he mumbled, convulsing forward again as he attempted to hold it in.

In a flash the servant returned, rushing to set the bucket down beside the bed. You held it up, helping him scoot dizzily forward before he hurled.

Things continued in a similar fashion until the setting of the sun, the western rays finally sinking beneath the distant mountain horizon. Crickets and firebugs chirped, bringing in the cool breeze of evening, sending shivers down Ahk’s sweat-sheeted shoulders and back.

You ran your fingers through his hair, hoping to raise the curls off his heated forehead, but he raised his hand to stop you.

“No,” he slurred, “too sick... repetitive.”

“Alright,” you said softly.

His dizziness persevered from the evening into the night, but his vomitting had luckily stopped, though he did try to retch on an empty stomach twice. By then he was passed out from exhaustion, still shivering in his sleep. You stayed at his side without fail, raising his sheets up to cover him, and removing them when he broke out into another sweat.

At midnight, his eyes fluttered open.

The first thing he saw was you—surrounded by a halo of brightly glowing stars, colored in red, yellow, and purple. His sickness had faded but the delirium remained, and he reached out blindly for your face.

His fingers dragging across your eyes and cheeks brought you back from your meditation, shocked at his consciousness.

“You’re awake,” you said with a relieved sigh, your knees digging into the cold stone beneath you.

“Hathor?” He mumbled weakly, his eyes still half-closed.

“No, no,” you said, taking his hand down from your face and clasping it in your own hold. “Piye. Remember? How do you feel?”

“Am I dead?”

“Not as far as I know. You exhibit all the tell-tale signs of being alive,” you said, chuckling.

“... Bastet?”

“Also no. Piye.”

“Peets....” he mumbled before promptly falling back asleep.

The next time he awoke was a little later on, towards the very, very early morning. He once again broke you out of your meditation, this time with words rather than smothering your face. His state of aberration had yet to improve.

“Piye?” He asked softly, a husk of a voice.

“Yes,” you said, smiling. He remembered your name. “How do you feel?”

“When d.. you’re... you’re glowing,” he murmured.

“I what?”

He reached forward, and you flinched away, stiffened by a soft touch that traced down your jawline.

“You��re... glowing,” he said, louder, drawing in a deep breath as sweat began to bead on his forehead.

“Calm down, Ahk,” you warned him, pushing the hair off his forehead. “You’re going to work yourself up.”

“No,” he said with a strange sense of urgency, holding your face in the palm of his hand. You subconsciously leaned your cheek into his touch. “No, I need to see you.”

“I’m right here, with you.”

“Not in my dreams,” he breathed out, the words brushing his parted lips, now paler than ever.

Fever.

Vomitting.

Fatigue.

Gagging. Weakness. Dizziness. Chills. Sweating.

What would your father say?

He didn’t need to consult the numerous stacks of books shoved into his office to know what Ahk suffered from, but he was far away in Thebes, and you wouldn’t dare leave the Prince’s side, in fear of his condition and the wrath of his father should he suffer grievously.

“I told you not to eat those date rolls,” you chided, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair. That must’ve been the cause—sickness carried through infirm food. You could think of nothing else.

He didn’t say anything. Not for a little while, at least. He continued to blink, albeit slow, and stared unceasingly into you.

“He is in your eyes,” he whispered, his own eyes flickering between yours. “And... speaking.”

“Who do you see?” You asked softly, suddenly reluctant to blink.

“Heka.”

Not a God of magic, but the personification of it. The genuine representation of healing and enchantments. His fertile, black skin made of the Nile’s silt was reflected in your own complexion—darker than night, flanked by eyes that appeared to glow against the midnight of you.

“What is he saying?” You said, readjusting yourself beside his hand, a seriousness edging your tone. Claims of Heka were not to be taken lightly.

“Pledging.. love.”

“For who?”

“... me,” he whispered.

“Beloved of...”

“Beloved of you,” he interrupted before you could finish your thought, a smile creeping at the edges of his pale lips.

You chuckled softly, reaching up to stroke your thumb over the back of his hand. He was returning to a saner state of mind.

“Perhaps so,” you murmured.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Night at the Museum #Ahkmenrah

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mingoyeob-archive · 3 years ago

Note

45 and 78 with jungkook pls🥺(Btw i love your writing and take your time for part 3☺️)

under the oak tree drabble game ⚔️🌳 to make up for my delayed release of part 3 of under the oak tree i’ve decided to do a drabble game! send me a number + any of the characters from under the oak tree and i’ll write you a drabble :)

hi thank you guys so much for requesting and also for being patient with me anon! I combined these two asks because you both asked for 78 so other anon you get a little something extra haha! I hope you enjoy <3

45: “Take.It.Off” + 78. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any more gorgeous” - jjk x reader - word count: 1.4k

Around the castle people buzzed and shuffled, zipping past one another like moving pieces in a well organized machine. The sound of numerous conversations and orders being shouted from left and right was only beaten out by the loud rushing water from outside, heavy drops of water hitting newly installed stain glass windows and ringing off like canons. Rain was nothing new to the occupants of Uwhen and not even the downpour outside could stop the bustling maids and the boisterous knights that littered every hall. So it was to Jungkook's surprise when he heard the noise come to a halt, turning his head to follow the direction of everyone's gaze trained on the main entrance. His eyes fell upon the distressing, albeit slightly amusing, sight of you standing drenched from head to toe, looking akin to a shaggy dog he had once seen fall into a river as a young boy.

It wasn’t your fault of course, this was your first rainy season after all. Sure there were a few cloudy days and drizzles that happened here and there but for the most part Aster was typically a sunny land with what seemed like never ending summers. So how were you expected to know that during this time storms came through quicker than the drop of a hat, nose untrained to picking up the fresh scent of lingering salty rain that was always a tell-tale sign of what was coming. And by the time you were able to feel the light drops of water landing on the top of your head it had already been too late and the next thing you knew you were trudging through thick mud, struggling to pull the train of your dress and walk with the weight of your heavy petty coat holding you down.

“Y/N!” Jungkook exclaimed and rushed over to you in only a few strides. His hands found themselves landing on your shoulders as he worriedly looked you over, eyes full of concern. He could feel you shaking under his fingertips. “What the hell happened to you, my love?”

You could only gaze up at him through wet lashes, lips set heavily in a pout. You could tell he was waiting for you to answer but you were too caught up with the fact that everyone had stopped to stare at the pair of you. Too afraid to sound like a fool, you had no intention of explaining yourself out here in the open, only letting out a small whimper as you huddled your arms close to yourself to stave off the cold. Jungkook noticed your hesitation, head whipping around to glare at the onlookers who had stopped to see what all the commotion was about. “Fucking hell- what are you all looking at!? Get back to work!”

Like a flip was switched, the noises returned and everyone went back to rushing past each other. All except your hand maiden who came running over the minute she saw a clear path over to your dripping figure. “Lady y/n! Let me get you back to your bed chambers and I’ll run you a fresh bath and get you a new pair of clothes and-”

“No need.” Jungkook had brushed past the maid, arm locked heavily around your frame as he started escorting you back to your room, not even sparing her a glance. “I can do all of that perfectly fine on my own.”

She sputtered and followed hastily behind you two, “But- but sir! Are you sure you don’t wan’t-” Jungkook's steely eyes had her mouth clamping shut and she stopped dead in her tracks. “Of course, my apologies. Please let me know if you need anything else, my lord.” She didn’t even wait for a reply before bowing and leaving in a hurry.

Jungkook merely grunted and continued walking the two of you up the staircase, your graze trained behind you as you watched your hand maiden scurry away. “You didn’t have to be so rude, you know.” You muttered, letting out a small hmph. Jungkook just gazed down at you briefly before pretending as if he didn’t hear your snarky comment. Though you swore you saw the hint of a smile twitch at the corner of his lips.

Upon arriving at the room, Jungkook had immediately pushed you into the center of the room, broad shoulders looming more than a few inches over you just an arms reach away. He sighed slowly and crossed his arms, “Take it off.”

You deadpanned, “What?” you say. You had heard what he said, but you hoped he wouldn’t say it again. That hope was mistakenly misplaced.

“I said take your clothes off. They��re soaking wet and you’ll get sick.” Jungkook said, talking as if this whole thing was just a giant nuisance. His facial expression was cold (as usual), so it was hard to really tell if he was serious or not (also very usual). “Once you undress I’ll give you a bath-”

“No no I’m fine! Haha no need for that, yup completely fine.” Your attempt at passing off the situation in an effort to avoid his offer was very unconvincing. “It’s not even that cold, I’ll dry off soon.” That was a lie. You were freezing, Jungkook could practically hear your teeth chattering as you spoke.

You were obviously uncomfortable with his request. He wasn’t mad, in fact, he completely understood. Despite being married for 3 years (most of it being spent apart except for one short night), he had only ever seen you naked once. At least in real life it was only once, his dreams were a completely different story.

Jungkook just shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, “Y/N…” he let out a sound of annoyance and took a deep breath to compose himself before dropping his hand and fixing you with a steely glare. He hated having to get stern with you. “Take.it.off.”

This time you could definitely tell he was serious and your nervous smile immediately dropped, replaced quickly by a look of defeat. You knew you had lost this time so there was no point in trying to push off the inevitable so instead you just sighed and began undoing your corset, Jungkook standing quiet as he watched. You could practically hear a pin drip, the room was so silent. It was deafening.

When Jungkook saw your fingers get to the last loop, he waited with bated breath. Finally, he thought, he really had to talk to someone about making your dresses less complicated to get off (for your convenience, of course). He watched you gulp just as the cord was set free and then stared transfixed as the material fell, pooling around your ankles. If he wasn’t already holding his breath, he would’ve choked. His dreams were doing you absolutely no justice.

By now your face was on fire, heat feeling your cheeks to the point you no longer even felt cold. And Jungkook's stare was only making it worse, your head filling with so many nervous ramblings and worries. Have I gotten fat since he last saw me? And was that stretch mark always there? Wait, when did my thighs get so big?

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any more gorgeous.” your breath caught in your throat. Jungkook had whispered the words completely in awe, irises finally filled with something other than stony resistance (dare you say, love?). You don’t know how, but for some reason those simple words had all your insecurities fading away, at least for the time being. Because the way he looked at you in this moment, it didn’t matter if you had gained a stretch mark or two, cause you knew he would still see you as nothing less than beautiful.

It was hard for you to say exactly how he was feeling since he didn’t say much else before turning around to head into the bathroom (presumably to run that bath that he mentioned earlier), but for someone who was a man of a few words, just one sentence could mean a thousand. And you hoped he would stay with you long enough for you to hear a thousand more.

#drabble game #bts #under the oak tree #jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #knight jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic

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lemonjoonah · 5 years ago

Text

Level of Restraint (M)

Pairings: Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 13K Rating: M Genre: Thriller, smut, office AU, BDSM AU Warnings(contains spoilers): This story contains very dark themes and may not be suited to all readers, protected sex (vag+anal), threesome, double penetration, bondage (including partial suspension), dom/sub roles (reader is a sub), praise kink, mild degration, sensory deprivation, spanking, fingering, cum feeding, mild breathplay, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, discussion of safe word, Namjoon is a professional dom/sex worker, referenced discrimination of sex workers and those who participate in BDSM, public outing of sexual practices, inappropriate workplace relationships, referenced death of minor character, yandere character, misidentified sexual partner, manipulation, bribery, blackmail, implied stalking, violence.

Summary: As a co-founder of a consulting firm you can’t afford to be caught in a scandal. So flirting with your secretary, Jimin, would be out of the question. Giving your client’s son, Taehyung, a reference for a sexual partner would be reprehensible. And having regular paid BDSM sessions with your dominant, Namjoon? That would be a career ending disgrace. It’s too bad the only restraints in life you approve of are the cuffs that bind you to the bed, because there are those hiding in the dark waiting to take advantage.

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this story. It was hard not to question the level of darkness this tale descends to. In the end your assurances and aid are the only reason this fic made it to fruition. Upon reading you might notice several thematic references to the ‘Fall of the House of Usher,’ by Edgar Allan Poe and the Greek myth of Tantalus. They are two of my favourite tales, and together they greatly represent the darkened desires depicted in this oneshot.

...

8:55 am KNJ: Good girl.

Your heart races upon receiving the response you’ve been waiting for all morning. The sender had requested proof that you were wearing his last minute gift, and you were happy to oblige with the lewd photo. Finally seeing his simple praise for your efforts makes you grin from ear to ear, as you enter the front door to your workplace’s building. The message will be enough to get you through the day, high on the thought of his praise while his present is wrapped tightly around your ribs. Though the garment may be confining, you’ll endure anything to receive those two simple words.

Reluctantly glancing up from your phone you look ahead to see the elevator closing.

“Hold the door!” You call out, making a run for it. Mercifully the gap between the doors widens allowing you to climb in before it begins the long haul up. Glancing over to your savoir, you find your secretary standing at the panel. “Thanks Jimin.”

“No problem,” he responds with a warm smile. “What floor do you need?” Joking as he pushes the button labelled 14.

You playfully shove his arm while trying to catch your breath. Had he left you down on the first floor there's no telling how long it would be before the elevator returned. The building in which you work has been down to one lift for a couple days, with no promise of when the other will be fixed. It’s not a surprise really, ever since you moved into this complex three years ago you’ve been plagued with breakdowns and shotty utilities. Considering how opulent the tower is, with it’s gilded elevators and halls adorned in finery you expected better, but people often overlook flaws when they have something pleasant to stare at. Allowing the management to slack on some of the failings of the structure.

“Do you think you could send maintenance another message?” You ask your hand clutching your waist to comfort the stitch in your side, no doubt a result of the corset concealed beneath your clothes.

“Consider it done.” Jimin replies, pulling out his phone. “Are you okay Miss?” He asks, your heavy breathing failing to go unnoticed judging from the concern in his voice.

“Fine.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to linger on your current state. “What’s on my schedule for today?”

“You have a consultation with Mr. Kim of HOC Industries in an hour-”

“Really?” You cut in, confused about the sudden change. “But I just saw him a few weeks ago. Why is he coming in?”

“He didn’t say, I just got a message last night from him stating he required an appointment immediately.”

“That’s not a good sign...” You groan, wondering what information had dropped to spur a need for such an urgent response.

“Afterwards you have an early lunch with journalist Min. Followed by a one o’clock appointment with Jeon Jungkook to go over the new web layout. And the rest of office hours are slated as admin.”

You cringe over the prospect of bookkeeping. Your accountant’s involvement in a recent accident, placed him on an extended leave of absence. Since you are the only other member of your small staff qualified to balance the books, this leaves you burdened with his duties. “Remind me later to make a posting for a temp position.”

“Noted,” Jimin remarks as he continues to scroll through his phone. “Oh and don’t forget, you also have your monthly massage appointment with Kim Namjoon tonight.”

You smile at the thought, you would never forget a booking with him, especially since he’s the reason for your current state of breathlessness. You’ve been counting down the days until you get to see him, with only a few hours left you can barely contain yourself. To everyone who asks he’s a masseur, but the services he provides are far more aggressively intimate than a standard massage. You force a small cough to cover the involuntary moan starting to escape.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” It’s not a complete lie, with the stress from work there have been a lot of restless nights recently, your appointment tonight should help to relieve a bit of that tension. There’s a loud groan as the elevator comes to a stop at your floor. You look up to the top of the lift and over to Jimin with worry, both of you stepping off with haste once the doors open.

Your entire office space consists of only a few rooms. You and Hoseok had started this company only a few years ago, focusing on corporate consultations regarding public image and approval. All things considered you’re doing rather well. With your negotiation tactics, Hoseok's philanthropy efforts, and Yoongi on retainer as your media source, you’ve been able to take on several giant corporations.

As you walk down the hall you find the temperature starting to rise, and upon stepping into your’s and Jimin’s shared office, you’re hit with a wave of heat. You whisper your curses as you check the thermostat which has been jacked to its highest setting and refuses to shift back down.

Giving up on the system you turn to the windows, but even those are a struggle after being neglected for so long. You call out to Jimin for assistance, waiting no more than a second before he is by your side. But even with his help you only manage to open them to the grand extent of a sliver before you’re forced to give in. At least with your office door open there’s now a small draft pervading the space.

“I guess I’ll send maintenance another message,” Jimin chuckles.

“You don’t think he’s trying to push us out do you?” You inquire about the building owner, and one of your own clients. You don’t usually make such bold claims, but with Jimin’s ties to the dubious man, it’s hard not to ask.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Though I think this is more likely due to his lack of regard for the workmanship going into his properties.”

You nod overlooking the now stuffy room which holds both your desks. It serves its purpose with a sufficient amount of daylight from the large windows, and a partial wall giving you each a bit of privacy. You’d rather not have to leave this building and the status that comes with it, but there seems to be no end with these faulty appliances. “So much for being the height of sophistication.”

While you settle into your workspace you’re already dying from the heat, a sweater and camisole overtop your corset was not the best choice for today, but you didn’t want to risk anyone noticing the garment beneath. As you shuffling through your newsite tabs Jimin readies the coffee maker, returning to you with the first dose of your daily caffeine needs.

“You’re a saint.”

Jimin smiles brightly at your compliment, living for the praise as always. “Do you want some ice on the side?” He laughs as you tug on your sweater to stop it from sticking to your skin.

“Only if I can rub it all over.” You sigh jokingly as you take a sip of the hot beverage.

“I’d be happy to assist.” His smirk and piercing gaze look to be downright serious, his flirtation hitting a new high today.

“Sorry Jimin, I already have a massage appointment later. I think Namjoon would be very upset if you took his job from him.”

“That’s too bad.” He mutters, his lip still curled into a smile before stepping away from your desk. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be more than willing to compensate him for his loss.” Jimin has never been shy about his attraction to you, a desire which you most certainly reciprocate, but your own company policies keep the both of you tied to flirtatious word play. With Jimin winning more often than not when it comes to provocative sentiments.

He hangs around on your side of the room, straightening the chairs and stray flies, while you continue your search for whatever prompted the need for your haste meeting. At last you find it, on the featured articles of a prominent celeb news site, with the headline reading, ‘The Dark Desires of the Kim Family Heir.’

Much to your chagrin the issue isn’t regarding your client, but his son. As much as you try to stay out of personal family matters, sometimes they are unavoidable, and this looks to be one of those cases.

‘Kim Taehyung has long been considered one of the most eligible bachelors. He has it all, money, power, and a spot on every top ten most attractive list, but those who have been with him more intimately say he craves something more...’

Your mouth falls open in horror as one of Taehyung's former partners exposes their most intimate moments with him. ‘The Gucci suits and custom cologne are just an expensive mask for the darkness beneath. He would ask to be tied, bound to the bed and struck. He wanted pain and pleasure...’ The further you read the more your chest tightens. You’d rather not jump to conclusions, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. A fact which must make it all the more painful for Taehyung. You can only imagine what he must be going through, to have such private details exposed and exploited. He’s currently living your worst nightmare, a societal judgement over one's deepest desires. For professional reasons it would probably be best to stay out of this private matter, but you can’t in good consciousness let him suffer alone.

“That bad?” Jimin asks.

“Yeah...” You cover your mouth to hide your shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill on Taehyung's behalf.

Jimin shuffles in behind your desk with you. By lowering himself to read off your screen, his face falls next to yours. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he leans in to eye the article in question. You should shoo him away, but you can’t help but be curious of his response to those who engage in such practices. As his eyes scan the page his grip on you tightens, his breathing erratic just like yours, with a whispered “‘Fuck,” escaping his lips.

“Are we interrupting something?” A voice calls out from your open door.

Your head snaps over in shock to find your next appointment waiting for you, with his son in tow. You jump up pushing Jimin back so you can greet your guests properly. “Mr. Kim! No not at all, please come in. This must be-”

“Taehyung...” The younger man mutters as he walks in, slumping down in one of the chairs in front of your desk. His sunglasses are still in place, the smell of spirits wafts over you along with the spicy scent of what must be his referenced cologne. He’s a sight to behold, a person of his caliber could make a fortune off his looks alone; he wouldn’t even need a drop of his father's fortune. But of course, that would have been before this public outing of his bedroom tendencies. Now he’s more likely to be seen as a pariah rather than an asset.

Directing the elder to the seat next to him, you take your own once again as Jimin retreats to his desk. You don’t even have the chance to exchange pleasantries before Mr. Kim launches into the purpose of their visit. “I assume you saw the article about my son?”

“I did, but-”

“And? What can we do about it? How can we spin it? Our stocks have already taken a hit.”

“Your son just had a serious breach in personal privacy...” You pause hoping that he’ll have some semblance of a realization that he is not the victim here, instead he simply waits for you to continue. Attempt to hold in your dismay, you give him the only answer you can, “Sue for defamation if you’d like, but whether they are printing fact or fiction the damage is done. The press is still focusing on your family due to your early misdealings in your company. I would argue that if you turn the view of operations around then there is a very good chance that the media will start to back off personal affairs.”

“You can’t expect me to twiddle my thumbs and wait. My shareholders are currently questioning his ability to lead, they might seek to replace him.”

“Good.” Taehyung mutters. “If those prudes have a problem with me, I’d rather not have to work with them.”

You bite your lip to conceal a snort of laughter. Mr. Kim fails to notice but his son seems to have caught your slip, taking off his glasses, he pierces you with a strong gaze.

Kim senior starts up again looking for sympathy and a way out, “Do you know how many of his flings I’ve had to pay off in the past-”

“Maybe you should just stick to your own business.” Taehyung eyes his father darkly.

“They made it my business when they started squealing to the press about what kind of man you are.”

You try to rein the situation in, this battle between father and son having no place in your office. “Mr. Kim! I would actually like to speak to your son for a moment. We can see if there’s a possible remedy for this... exposure.” You stand up, calling over the wall for your secretary "Jimin? Would you mind taking Mr. Kim to see Hoseok?” You turn back to your elder client, practically pushing him out the door into your secretaries’s care. “Jung Hoseok has been continuing his work on your company's philanthropic efforts. I’m sure he would love to show you what he has done with your portfolio.”

“Do you need me to come right back Miss?” Jimin asks with a pleading stare, his eyes flicker over to the young man still slumped in his seat.

“No I think we’ll be okay for a bit.” You mutter to him quietly as Mr. Kim proceeds down the hall. “Just keep him away for a few minutes.”

Once they're both gone you sit back down across from Taehyung with a sigh.

“So are your going to talk some sense into me?” He drawls with disdain.

“Fuck no,” you scoff, rummaging through your drawer. “Can I get you anything coffee, water... advil?” You finally pull out the bottle of pain relievers and offer one to him as you take one yourself, your head ready to explode in frustration over his father.

He tilts his head looking somewhat surprised, “So why did you send him away then?”

“I thought you could use a break. I’ve worked with many people like your father, they all want things done their way, and you’ll never be able to tell them otherwise. He’ll never admit to his faults, and the fact that he’s the real reason the media is all over you. So as long as you don’t tattle on me, we both can make it through this meeting with him thinking that he’s won.”

“Deal,” Taehyung agrees while he chuckles at your ploy.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You offer once again.

“Actually I’ll take some advil.”

“I thought you might.” You poor him glass from the cooler and offer up the pill. When his sleeve pulls back to reach for the cup you can’t help but notice the glaring red evidence of a rope abrasion on his wrist. While he throws back the pain killer, you take another sip of your coffee rolling the bitterness over your tongue before breaching the difficult subject. “It can’t be easy to have the press prying into every aspect of your private life.”

“It’s not so much that they pry, but...” Taehyung hesitates, his brow furrows as his fingers run through his hair tugging on the strands between his fingers. “People know that they can go to them with a story and make money off any relations I have with them. And the press will gladly pay top dollar for what they have to offer.”

“The story is not a complete fabrication then?” You already know it’s not judging from his father's response and the marks on his arm, you just need to hear him say it.

“No, it’s mostly true.” He admits, watching your reaction.

“Then it would seem that your desires might be thought unconventional by many of your past partners?”

Taehyung nods, taking another sip of his water.

“From one unconventional individual to another,” you pause waiting for your own admission to sink in. To your delight Taehyung immediately perks up listening attentively as you continue. “There are more discreet ways to fill those needs.”

“Are you offering?” He asks, raising a brown along with the corner of his lips.

“No, I doubt that I would be very good at meeting your cravings, since we both hunger the same type of... attention.” You smile back at him, rejoicing in your mutual secret. “But I do have a friend who will take very good care of you. I’m going to give you a name and phone number, it’s up to you if you want to contact them, but I can assure you any conversations or actions between you and them will be kept strictly confidential. It’s not cheap,” you explain, but doubt that’ll be a problem for him. “But I assure you it’s safe and private.”

Taehyung can barely get the information from you fast enough once you jot it down. His hands, reaching for the sheet, accidentally knock over your coffee instead, sending the drink in your direction and staining your sweater. “I’m so sorry, here let me help you.” Taehyung jumps up and runs and grabs napkins from the coffee station.

“It’s fine really.” You assure him, making an attempt to stop him as he starts to blot the saturated material.

Unfortunately it’s at this moment that Jimin walks in to see your precarious state. He stands there for a moment in silence before explaining the reason for his return. “Mr. Kim said he needs to leave soon, Miss. He wanted to see if you two were... finished.” There’s glare set in his eyes for Taehyung's forwardness.

“Yeah, be right there, just one second.” You turn back to Taehyung, exchanging the damp napkin in his hand for the paper you had just written on. “Think about it, I hope you’ll give him a call. I don’t give out his information unless I think it will be of help to someone.”

“Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung mutters quietly while reading the slip. “If I were to go see him, would I find you there too?” He looks back up at you, biting his lip after posing his query.

“Likely not, he keeps his sessions very private, but you can always discuss your...” You glance over to Jimin who is still waiting, and well within earshot. “Preferences with him.”

“Then I’ll consider it, thank you.”

After seeing Mr. Kim and his son off, you're left to deal with the stain on your sweater, with only fifteen minutes before you have to leave for your lunch appointment. “Jimin could you call Yoongi and let him know I’m running a little late? I need to stop by my apartment on the way.”

“No need, I’ve got an extra shirt here.” He pulls out one of his own from his desk. “ I know it’s a men’s fit, but I think we can make it work.”

“Why do you keep that here?” You laugh. He only looks at you and the stain with a raised brow, no words needed to prove his point. “Never mind, stupid question, but I can’t take your shirt Jimin.”

“I insist, go put it on.” He forces it into your hands as you double check your watch, your time constraints leaving you with little choice.

Stepping behind the dividing wall, you strip down to your camisole, breathing a sigh of relief that the beverage hadn’t seeped into the fabric of the corset. Quickly throwing his button up over top and tucking it in, you check to ensure your intimate garment is still hidden relatively beneath the shirt before coming back out for his opinion “Does it look okay?”

Jimin nods, but when he reaches out to touch the shirt you recoil, fearing that he will discover what you wear beneath. He chuckles and persists, “I’m just fixing your collar.” He moves in closer standing just a couple inches away. Pinching the two seams of the fabric together, he considers the change. “I think it would look better like this.” You nod, keeping silent as he follows through. Pulling the fabric tight around your throat, your breathing is forced to pause for a moment as he fastens the top button. “Better?” He asks, while his hands linger around your neck.

“Much.” You whisper, as his fingers drift up to hold your chin, with the tip of his thumb dragging along the edge of your bottom lip. You stand there confused as to why your flirtatious game has taken such a physical turn. Although his actions are prohibited and should be censured, you can’t fully condemn them, deciding instead to remove yourself, rather than reprimand him. “I-I should go. I don’t want to be late meeting Yoongi.”

...

It was a productive lunch to say the least, but that was by no means thanks to you. Your focus was distinctly elsewhere. While you toyed with your bottom lip, thinking of how Jimin had touched it just moments before, Yoongi gave you everything you needed to secure several new clients. Even now as you return, disembarking the elevator on to your floor, you still can’t concentrate on the day ahead.

On the walk back to your office Hoseok catches you, quickly pulling you into his own and closing the door behind. “You need to do something about Jimin.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” You ask, nervous that he had seen you two together before you left for your meeting.

“Your client earlier, Mr. Kim, he said that he caught you two acting rather close, making suggestions that you two are involved in a sexual relationship. Usually I would disregard a comment like his but-”

“It’s not true, you know I wouldn’t!” As much as you might want to act on Jimin’s advances you’ve never crossed that line. You know it must have been bad for Hoseok to bring it up, for him to take this serious tone is evidence of his deep concern.

“I know that, but this isn’t the first time someone has thought you two might be a little too intimate. Some of the staff have also considered the notion. And I can see why, the way he looks at you, talks to you...” Hoseok trails off as his eyes linger on your apparel in confusion. “You weren’t wearing that earlier were you?”

“No, I had some coffee spill on me earlier. Jimin was nice enough to loan me his.”

Hoseok tilts his head as he raises his brow as if this validates his concerns.

“He was just being helpful!” You offer, but Hoseok doesn’t look to be swayed, and he’s right, this is a workplace not a morning after situation. “Fine, I see your point. So what do you suggest?”

“Redistribute him, send him my way if you have to, god knows that I could use the extra hand. You could even play it off as a promotion, just get him out of your office.” Your heart drops at the thought, not wanting to give him up. Hoseok seeing this takes a softer tone. “Listen I can see that you like him too. I’m sure it feels good to have his attention, but you need to get this out of your system. You have to put a stop to it. We can’t afford a scandal and you know it.”

With the assurance that you’ll think on the issue, and giving Hoseok your solution by tomorrow, you return to your office. But the problem is far from easy, though you did not lie about your physical relationship to Hoseok, you have been keeping something from him. From all of them. Jimin will never accept a promotion if it takes him away from you. He’s never worked here for the money, he doesn’t need to when his father owns half of the city, this building included.

...

-3 years ago-

“Mr. Lee, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.” You pull out the chair to sit across from him. The massive mahogany desk of his placing a rather large distance between the two of you.

“Yes well, my building manager said you were very persistent.” There’s a small roll in his eyes as he looks from you down to the computer in front of him.

“I wanted to discuss one of your properties, an office space in the Madeline Suites.”

He takes a swift glance at your modest appearance with narrowing eyes. “Forgive me, but I believe that location might be out of your price range.”

“Monetarily yes,” You agree. “But we offer services which might be helpful to you.”

“I do not deal in favours. I can see that this meeting was a waste of time, you may go.” He waves the back of his hand to shoo you out, while his secretary grabs the door from the outside.

“I am not asking for a favour, but offering you my services. I’m the co-founder of a corporate image consulting firm. And come this time tomorrow, I believe you’ll be looking for someone within our realm of dealings.”

“And what makes you say that?” Lee asks, his words laced with cynicism.

You lay out the first page of the article which Yoongi had sent you, stretching it across the wooden surface to place it in Mr. Lee’s view. ‘Real Estate Developer Lee Gungsang Faced Prior Allegations of Unlawful Evictions and Price Hiking.’ “This is slated for tomorrow morning’s front page.”

Mr. Lee is quick to send his secretary off, the door shutting once again. “How do you know about this? These cases were settled before they made it anywhere near the courts.”

“I have my sources.”

“Then stop this! I will pay whomever needs to be paid to prevent this from leaching out. You want the office space, it's yours.” He’s voice is desperate, you have him on the hook, the question now is, how long will he let you drag him for?

“That’s very generous of you, but nothing will stop this from going out tomorrow. My offer is simply to help you get ahead of it and lessen the damage.” You explain, revelling in the fact that money can’t hide everything.

“And how do you propose to do that?”

You pull out a contract for your serves. “I will need you to sign off on my services first. A small fee plus a far more reasonable price for a three year lease of the offices on the 14th floor of the Madeline Suites”

“Without knowing your plan, I think not.”

You give him a bright smile before mimicking his earlier statement. “I do not deal in favours Mr. Lee.”

He grumbles while taking the pen, eyeing you with a dark gaze as he signs on the dotted line.

With the ink still drying you hand over another small document. “Here are a few of my suggestions. Twenty percent of the commercial residences that you have just vacated will be handed over to non-profits for a drastically reduced monthly lease. I’ll even let you pick which you want to support.”

He looks up at you mortified. “This is excessive.”

“No this is necessary. I’ve seen corporations do far more than this when they are not dealing with a scandal. Your accountants will agree with me that this is the best move, it can be seen as a donation and therefore tax deductible. For the evicted private residences, I was thinking of partnering with a refugee resettlement program but we can discuss that more in depth later.”

You carefully tuck away your contract in Lee’s file before dragging another concern to the forefront. “I do have one more request, before I leave today.”

“What more could you possibly want?” He scoffs.

You lean in to deliver your short but important demand. “A heads up.”

“I don’t know what you mean...”

“I mean if there are any other past dealings or actions which might impact your company I need to be aware of them.” There’s always more hidden in the dark, you have one of those secrets on hand now. You need to see if he’s willing to be upfront with you on every dealing of his past, otherwise you might be forced to dig him out from another grave a couple weeks from now.

“There’s nothing else.”

“Nothing?” You ask again as you pull out your phone ready to bring forward more evidence.

“No.”

“So the knowledge of you having and hiding an illegitimate son... you don’t think that’s important? The existence of the only child of the Lee empire, isn’t newsworthy?”

“How did you-” The terror in his face looks to be even greater than the prior accusation.

“You attempted to evict all of the residents who stayed in your residential apartment for over 10 years if they refused to agree with a massive lease hike. Park Jimin was the only one who wasn’t touched. He has no record of a job, living off what must be money given to him by his parents, so I looked into them. His father wasn’t listed but his late mother, Park Haesoon, used to work for your company, and 22 years ago she signed a NDA issued by your lawyer.”

You open to Jimin’s public instagram page turning it around for his father to see. “He may take mostly after his mother, but I can still see a few clues to your family resemblance.”

“When does this one drop?” Lee asks in dismay.

“It’s not going to, at least, not from me or my source. We try not to deal in personal life consulting, but I am going to give you some advice in this matter. Get ahead of it.”

“My wife won’t hear of it.” Mr. Lee mutters through clenched teeth, it’s easy to see that this conversation has him very much on edge.

You nod seeing the crux of his dilemma. “I looked into the approximate date of his conception, you were newly married at the time, were you not?”

“Yes. She knows, but her family does not, they have a large political presence and we cannot afford to lose all support from them. Trust me, the boy is not worth the risk.”

“He’s your child!” You berate the CEO, your anger getting the better of you as you think of the emotional toll on Jimin. Not only did he lose his mother but his father won't even publicly acknowledge him.

“I won’t be swayed on this matter. If you have nothing else to say you may leave.” Mr. Lee rises from his desk and once again gestures towards the door. “I’ll have keys to your new office space delivered to you tomorrow along with the lease. But I should warn you, if there is even a whisper of his name in public in conjunction with mine, I can assure you, your so-called firm won’t last another week.”

...

Less than a month later you and Hoseok have moved your entire enterprise to the new office space. You’re holding an open house for several different staff positions, when the most unlikely of applicants walks in your door, Park Jimin.

He hands you a piece of paper which you can only guess is his resume, because your eyes fail to leave his face, your mouth unable to form words in your state of shock. Closing the door behind him, he gives you a nervous smile. “Judging from your expression, I take it you know who I am?”

You manage a single nod, still confused as to why he’s here, now, with you. It’s lucky you’re conducting the interviews alone, otherwise it would be difficult to explain your shock to Hoseok without exposing Jimin’s lineage.

“I’ve been wanting to meet with you,” Jimin confesses, adding sheepishly, “My father told me of your meeting. He said you took a bit of an interest in me, even found my social media accounts.”

“Oh, oh no.” You finally manage to sputter out, far more anxious with the younger man than his father. You never intended to meet Jimin, let alone have him find out you dug into some very personal aspects of his past and present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to invade your privacy. I was only trying to figure out what was going on. And when I learned the truth, I wanted him to own up to his mistake of hiding you.”

Jimin chuckles lightly, sitting down in front of you, “I didn’t come here looking for an apology Miss, I know why you did it. I merely wanted to meet one of the few people to ever successfully scare the shit out of my father.”

The wide beaming smile accompanying his statement spurs a laugh from you, while also allowing you to relax in his presence. “Sometimes you have to intimidate these people to get them to do the right thing. But I’m sorry I wasn’t able to convince him to go public regarding everything.”

“That’s not your fault. In the end it was just nice to hear that there's someone who thinks I deserve better.” Jimin adds, with a look of sorrow leaching into his smile.

“Of course you do, but I must ask, why come here now?” You take a moment to confirm that it is in fact his resume that he’s handed you. ”I can’t imagine that you need a job.” He’s appearance alone is enough to tell you he’s buried in wealth, though his father has not given him the family name, it looks as if Jimin has gained some of the assets.

“Actually that’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“Your father didn’t pressure you to come here to keep an eye on me did he?” You ask with scepticism. Keeping watch over possible threats wouldn’t be a completely off brand for those of his status. And with you knowing some of his deepest secrets you could likely be considered one of the biggest risks.

“No.” Jimin chuckles, briefly raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’m here of my own volition. Money isn’t my biggest concern, I’ve been hoping to build connections. I want to use my time wisely and work with someone who is worthy of my focus, and that just so happens to be you.” He finishes with a suggestive smirk, making you wonder if you’ve won his affection too.

“And what does your focus get me?” You ask, trying to weigh the benefits versus the risk. You doubt that Mr. Lee will respond kindly to you hiring his son, but if he continues to deny his son’s existence then what right does he have to disagree?

“Anything you require. I was interested in the posting for your secretary, but any position beneath you would suit me nicely.”

...

There’s no way you’ll be able to convince Jimin to willingly change roles and work for Hoseok instead. But you can’t deny that your co-founder’s points are valid.

Jimin greets you warmly as you enter your office. “Did you have a nice lunch?”

“Yeah, it was good.” You respond, forcing out a smile.

“Really? Because you look upset.”

You curse Jimin’s ability to read you at a time like this. “I promise, lunch was fine. Yoongi gave me some substantial leads.” You sigh sliding back in your seat. With your values shaken and morals questioned by Hoseok, you are deeply in need of someone to brace yourself on. Wanting to step out of the realm of responsibility and control even if it’s just for a moment, you make a request to Jimin. “Would you go fetch Jungkook for our meeting?”

“I can just call him in.” He makes the case looking reluctant to leave your side.

“Please Jimin just go get him. I need a few minutes for a personal call.”

Jimin looks at you crestfallen before finally leaving. It’s not often you keep things from him, he can scope you out too well for that. But Kim Namjoon’s actual role in your life is the one secret you feel is the most imperative to hide from him.

You pull out your cell, not wanting to use his number on your work phone. After two rings he picks up. “Couldn’t wait a few more hours to hear my voice baby girl?”

You're too embarrassed to admit he’s right, settling on another excuse for your call. “N-no I just wanted to let you know that I’ve sent someone your way... sir.”

“Don’t lie to me I can hear the need in your voice.” He chuckles lightly as he taunts you. “Your reference already reached out to me. I’m excited to play with him, is he just as handsome as he sounds?”

“More so.”

Namjoon hums on the line in gratification. “My babygirl, giving me another pet to play with.”

You blush from the praise. Taehyung makes the sixth person you’ve suggested following the charity ball you met Namjoon at a couple years ago. Where he, much like you, was secretly scoping out potential clients. Every one of those patrons you’ve given him since then has been his pet, but you, you’re his babygirl.

“I was wondering...” Namjoon’s carries on, in a tone far more hesitant than usual. “Tonight would you be willing to try something a little unconventional? Would you like to share him?”

“W-would that be okay?” He’s never suggested adding another to your sessions before, but you can’t deny you’re intrigued by the prospect.

“He mentioned an interest in you, and after discussing his needs I feel that I require someone other than myself to pin his desires on. You’ll be the carrot while I’ll be the stick. Do you think you could do that for me?” Namjoon proposes in a low purr dragging every heated thought and possibility to the forefront of your mind.

“Yes sir.” Your response is instant, with little thought required. Helping Namjoon with Taehyung? You’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity. There’s a small knock on your office door with the return of Jimin and Jungkook trailing behind him. You start to panic while still on the phone with Namjoon. “I’ll see you later then?”

Namjoon can of course detect the change in your tone, but instead of letting you off the hook he pulls you further. “Did someone walk in on you babygirl? I take it they don’t know about this side of you?”

“No they don’t.”

“No sir.” He calls out your lack of decorum, an error which you know you’ll pay for later. “Such a shame they’re missing out. What do you think they would say if they knew of my plans for you tonight? How I intend to hang you like forbidden fruit above another man. Do you think they would approve?”

Your eyes widen as Namjoon continues and Jungkook takes the seat in front of you with Jimin standing behind him. You clear your throat and hold up your finger to them, gesturing for another minute. Turning away to hide your face as you continue to try and end the call. But hanging up on one’s dom is never advisable, condemning you to listen for as long as he wishes to torment.

“I bet you would like them watch, wouldn’t you?” Namjoon asks, egging on your sinful thoughts, transferring them from Taehyung over to your co-workers.

You shift your thighs trying to dispel the building need as you consider the notation of them watching. Imagining Jungkook’s wide eyes taking in the sight, likely with a hand on his cock, he’s an innocent man with strong desires. You’ve known others like him before, they act with naivete but when confronted with an opportunity for more, they don’t hesitate to gorge on what is presented to them.

And Jimin, would he accept your darker needs? You wish he would, desperately wanting him to play along, to help mould you into submission. Your head now filled with thoughts of kneeling before him taking him in your mouth while he christens you a good girl. If only you could be sure that he wouldn’t react like most people, like those who condemned Taehyung. Your eyes flutter back over to your secretary who is looking at you with deep suspicion. You desperately need to end the call or risk giving yourself away. “I should probably-”

“Am I embarrassing you baby girl?” Namjoon teases with an amused laugh. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“Yes...”

“Yes sir.” Namjoon reminds you once again. “I’ll release you for now, but I better see you here at seven o’clock sharp. Is that understood?”

You breathe a sigh of relief at the release. “Yes sir.” After finally hanging up, you offer up an apology. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was it?” Jimin inquires with a soft tone, but a quick lick to his lips shows his intentions to be far from innocent. His clenched fists and hovering nature further pointing towards jealousy.

“No one important.” You smile through the lie, careful in your attempt to comfort him. It’s pointless to keep acting in this way, but you still can’t bear the thought of disheartening his feelings or pushing him away.

...

After your meeting with Jungkook, you're left with a stack of paperwork and your ever persistent lack of concentration as you try to figure out what can be done with Jimin. Should you just tell him the issue, would it help or would it make the situation worse? If he knows how he is perceived then will the affection stop, and if it does, will you struggle with that loss?

“Can I walk you to your car Miss?” Jimin asks with his jacket in hand. You check the time, reading just after five. So lost in thought you had accomplished almost nothing in the last few hours of the day.

“I think I might just stay here until I have to leave for my appointment, I still have a bit more work to do.” You explain rubbing your hands over your face as you pull yourself from your daze.

“Do you want me to stay too then?”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you. But before you go I’d like to discuss something” You gesture to the seat across from you which he takes with hesitation. You’re usually not so formal and he can clearly spot the difference. You open your mouth and pause trying to find the right words as his eyes shine in your direction. The evening sun pouring into the room bathing his skin in with golden light makes it so much harder to stick to the issue at hand. You eventually resort to staring at the irrelevant papers on your desk as you open with your concern.

“I’m worried that our actions towards each other imply that our relationship is not strictly professional.” You blurt it out quickly, hating every word that crosses your lips.

“Have I been making you uncomfortable Miss?” Jimin’s expression falls along with his question, the heartbreak ringing out clear in his voice.

“No, no. It’s just, I’m concerned about how others see our interactions.”

“Oh, so someone said something to you then?”

“Hoseok mentioned that a few people think we appear to be a bit more than boss and secretary.” You know it cowardly to bring Hoseok into this, but the information is second hand. You can’t be sure what others have said exactly.

“Well you do know more about me than most.” Jimin laughs lightly.

“That’s not what they are implying. They think we are engaged in a sexual relationship.”

“And...” He draws the word out as if the implication is nothing, implying there should be a better reason for your concerns.

“We aren’t Jimin!”

“Well, there's only one way to fix that.” He stands up leaning towards you over your desk. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. We could keep it a secret if you’d like, no one has to know.”

You doubt Jimin could keep a relationship between the two of you hidden, with the way he dotes on you already, you’re one passionate night away from finding three dozen roses on your desk. “Someone would find out, and the fall out-”

“Fuck the fall out,” Jimin states with resolve, reaching out his fingers tucking back a strand of your hair before curling beneath your chin. “I’m tired of this charade. Hoseok only said something because he’s jealous. He’s jealous that you want me as much as I want you.”

“Jimin,” You whisper. “Even if that was the case, that still doesn’t make it right.” You pull back from his touch. “You should go. Think about what I said, because if we can’t maintain at least some level of restraint and professionalism... then you might be better off working for someone else in the office.”

“So you’d rather keep your social image than be happy with me?” Jimin accuses, the usual warmth having completely vanished from his face.

“It’s not like that. My standing is my life, it’s my career, any blemish would destroy everything I have.” You attempt to express the fear inside you, the weight that bears on you every day. You already have so many secrets and liabilities, but one as close and extensive as a relationship with him might finally crush you and everything you’ve built. “I like you, I really do, but I can’t take the risk. You have to understand, I’m not like you. I don’t have a secret trust fund to fall back on.”

Jimin looks as though you’ve stabbed him, pulling away he heads to the exit. “I’m sorry I’m not worth the risk. You know, I thought you were better than that, but it would seem you’re just like everyone else.”

The door slamming between you echoes through the office as you sag in your chair. Never in all your years have you ever sunk so low. By taking him on you wanted to ensure Jimin’s happiness, to show him his value despite the lack of acknowledgement from his father, but now it seems you’ve fallen into the same role as those who have hurt him before.

...

You type your code into Namjoon’s door, stepping into his hall quickly and shutting the door behind you. It’s just before seven and usually you find him in his living room already waiting, but today it’s empty. Not wanting to disturb him, you take a seat on the couch and wait patiently for him to join you.

You feel ready to fold in on yourself as you continue to dwell on your argument with Jimin. If you laid out boundaries earlier you likely wouldn’t be where you are now. Hating yourself over his confession, and your inability to accept it.

There’s movement from the bedroom door as Namjoon’s partner Seokjin comes out to greet you. You look up in bewilderment as he takes your hand, pulling you off the couch. “Namjoon has already started with the other client, so he sent me to fetch you.”

You nod understanding Namjoon’s divergence from the norm, it wouldn’t be safe practice for him to leave Taehyung alone in a precarious position. Now looking to the door with curiosity, you’re excited by what lustful visions will greet you on the other side. But when Seokjin presents something to you it’s clear that you won’t get to see those sights.

“You’ve been asked to wear this.” He holds out a wide silken strip, one that Namjoon has used as a blindfold in the past. You allow Seokjin to cover your eyes, with a touch far more gentle than you know Namjoon’s to be. You don’t want kindness, craving instead to be broken in by the man in the other room, especially after the damage you’ve done today. The loss of your vision will have to be punishment enough for the time being.

“Does he want me to undress too?” You ask, touching the silk over your eyes, you're completely blind and already longing for the next step.

“No he wishes to save that pleasure for himself.”

You smirk thinking he might, you’ve been wearing his gift all day it’s only right that he gets to see it first.

There’s a knock and a click of the door before Seokjin takes you in hand again, leading you in. The air is warmer and heavier than that of the living room, making it impossible to draw a fresh breath.

Seokjin pushes down on your shoulder, a wordless order to kneel. The plush carpet meeting your knees as you lower yourself, if only you could reach out to get a better sense of what’s in front of you, but form dictates that you keep your hands on your lap.

The bedroom door closes, signalling Seokjin's departure. Sending one last wave of clean air before you're smothered once again. Locked away for the night with your master and his new pet. There’s a small creek from the mattress and the familiar rattle of restraints against the bedpost. You can just barely make out the tone of Namjoon’s low whisper as he speaks to the current tenant of the bed.

Footsteps land to your left, muffled by the wall to wall but still sending vibrations through the floor. As Namjoon approaches, your heart pounds wondering what his first move against you will be. He takes his sweet time letting the anticipation build as your chest continues to heave in its attempts to take in the thick air. You keep your posture, maintaining your stance with the knowledge that he will inspect you. Head lowered, hands on thighs, perched on your toes as your knees dig into the ground. Your legs soon start to tremble as your feet strain to bear the weight.

Namjoon settles right in front of you, the slow draw of his breath reaches your ears, while the heat of his exhale hits your face. A hand trails up the outside of your thigh stilling the tremor in your legs with a forceful grip. You freeze wondering if your jitters will cost you, you can’t let him find fault not if you want him to reward you with his presence.

But as he takes your chin tightly between his index and his thumb, you know you're in the clear. He tilts your head up as you breathe a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl, setting the perfect example.” His fingers slide down petting the column of your throat with a firm touch. “I was so happy to receive your picture this morning, did you wear the gift all day as ordered?”

“Yes sir.” You pant back, eager for him to see for himself.

“It wasn’t too hard for you then, to go so long in such a confined state?”

“No sir.”

“Good girl,” He purrs in your ear as he starts unfastening your shirt. He hesitates on the buttons for a moment. “Babygirl, would you care to tell me why you're wearing a men’s shirt?”

You swallow not wanting to admit that it’s the fault of the man currently lying in his bed. You plan to take the fall, wanting Namjoon’s undivided attention even if it’s in the form of a punishment. “I spilled something on mine sir.”

“So clumsy.” He has the shirt completely off now revealing the corset for him and likely Taehyung to see. Namjoon helps you to stand, unzipping your skirt he pushes it to the floor. You feel so helpless without your sight but Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind assisting. He uses the soft fabric of the shirt to dab at the sweat beading on your skin. “Who, may I ask, clothed you in theirs? Such an expensive label, he must think highly of you.”

You shift in place, made uncomfortable by your inability to answer. Knowing if you say his name thoughts of him will be summoned to your mind. You don’t deserve to think of him at such a time, not after you led him on and left him dry.

“You don’t wish to tell me?” The feel of Namjoon’s breath leaves you, the sounds of his feet indicating he’s moved to the right of you. Heading to a space you know to be occupied by a table and closet full of his tools. There’s a scrap of metal and what sounds like the jingle of buckles.

“No sir.”

“And why is that?” Fingers trail up your arm as Namjoon signals his return to your side.

“Because I’m not allowed to have him sir.”

“A noble response.” Namjoon reasons while he wraps the leather strap of a familiar collar around your neck. “But I still plan to get that name from you before we’re done.” He buckles it swiftly checking the tightness with two fingers. You thought him finished but he progresses to cuff your wrists in leather too, tethering them together in front of you.

He leans in again with a hushed request, “Still know your safe word?” You nod repeating is back to him before he leads you on towards the bed.

Namjoon stands behind you as he presents you to his new pet. When you gave Taehyung Namjoon’s number you hadn’t been expecting this but you can’t deny enjoying the prospect. But you find the silence and lack of reaction from him unnerving. “I asked him not to make a sound,” Namjoon explains, “And he’s abiding by my rules so well it’s he?”

Namjoon takes your hands helping you to feel the current state in which Taehyung is interned. A Leather cuff just like yours binds one of his wrists with a short chain leading to bedpost. You imagine that his other limbs are restricted to the other corners of the bed, for Namjoon has bound you in the same state before.

“Can he see?” You ask Namjoon wondering if he has been left blind too, or if he’s eyes are watching you now.

“Can he see you? He can babygirl, in fact, he hasn’t looked away once, and why would he?” Namjoon sits you down on the large bed to join Taehyung before pulling down the matching underwear to your corset. “They’re so wet, have you been soaking these all day?”

You nod in response. A delighted Namjoon makes an offer to Taehyung. “Would you like a taste pet? A reward for being so good.” Namjoon revels in his situation with a chuckle, the man beneath you must have nodded. “Then open up.” You know what a taste means for Namjoon, those panties of yours are most certainly shoved into Taehyung's mouth. He lets out a groan of satisfaction at the welcome intrusion.

Namjoon’s hands find your waist dragging you up further on to the bed with your knees now resting on the mattress. “You’re going to straddle him for me babygirl.” He shifts you over pulling up one of your legs to settle them on either side of the man beneath you. Your knees bent with your calves coming to rest against his bare hips. Without his billowy clothes he is far more slight than you expected, but his skin feels firm and toned.

You slowly move to lower yourself knowing what you will come down on top of as you sit, but Namjoon seems to have other plans in mind. He takes your bound wrist, lifting them above your head and latching the cuffs to a chain in the rafters of the canopy bed. Once fixed in place he tests your limitations, a quick tug to show you even with your arms fully extended you are only able to lower yourself to half a kneel. You groan in frustration with the realization you can’t move any closer to the cock that rests below you. It’s just as he promised, hung like forbidden fruit above another man. Your dominant’s flare for the poetic never failing to surprise you.

“Problem babygirl?” Namjoon cooes in your ear. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“No sir.”

“Good, because if I recall you still need to be punished for your lack of formality on the phone earlier today.”

Your stomach drops as you realize he’s going to discipline you right now, in full view of Taehyung. The heat rises to your face at the thought of being demeaned in front of another. Namjoon’s hand cups your bare ass, readying it for the assault. “You failed to call me sir twice, three for each lapse should do it.”

While the first strike eases you in, those that follow are not so gentle. The ring of his index biting your flesh with each impact. The third strike is so strong you pivot forward on your knees, your back arching as you bare forward still confined to the corset and chains. The weight of your body pulls painfully on your shoulders for a brief second, but Namjoon is there to catch you. Stopping you before you can slip and more, and propping you back in place before continuing.

One hand lays firmly on your stomach to prevent the shift from happening again, while the other rubs the curve of your ass mapping where he should strike next. You can feel the warmth in your skin as the blood rises to the surface in reaction to his beating. Your nerves are caught in the struggle between pain and pleasure, even as the sixth and final blow lands.

“Good girl.” Namjoon whispers his touch disappearing, as you ease down against your restraints. You hang completely by your wrists while your legs quake from the shock. Every nerve in your body feels as though it’s been left on fire with nothing to quench the flames. Leaving you to hang there for what seems like eternity.

“Sir?” You whisper in the dark as the heat continues to build inside you. Wondering where he has gone your body reacts, begging for the return of his attention with a dripping cunt. And with Taehyung below that can only mean the steady drip of your arousal is left to fall on him.

“Babygirl you’re making such a mess.” Namjoon confirms along with a groan from the man beneath you. “But he appears to be leaking too. Do you want some?” You nod eager for a taste.

Namjoon obliges, grabbing your throat in one hand, he presses a damp finger to your lips for you to take. Your mouth latches over the offered digit, allowing the bitter fluid to sweep over your tongue. You're forced to let it sit there unable to swallow as the grip on your throat tightens, with the strap of the collar digging into your skin. Your mouth fills with saliva prompting you to close it despite your desperate need for air.

“Does he taste good?” Namjoon wickedly possesses knowing you can barely even nod. It’s when you start to tremble that he finally releases your airway.

You swallow quickly before letting your mouth hang open in a pant. With your lungs still restricted by the corset your breathing comes in short shuddering waves. “Yes sir, so good.”

“I think he likes having you drench him, shall we give him more?”

“Please.” You beg but Namjoon suddenly delivers a staggering blow to your backside, indicating your misstep. You’re left gasping from the sudden impact, swinging in the restraints as you try to recoil. “Please sir.” Your plea comes again this time with the proper decorum.

There’s a crinkle of what sounds like a condom wrapper as Namjoon readies himself behind you. His fingers damp with lubrication find your back entrance, your tight hole giving way to a single finger. “You’ve been training for me like I asked?”

“Yes sir.” You almost come at the thought of it along with pleasure with the swirling digit. You’ve dabbled in anal before testing out a few toys, but a few weeks ago he sent you a plug with a tapered t-shaped end, giving you strict orders to wear it to work the following day. Unfortunately that was the date you had scheduled a meeting with your whole team. You were a flustered mess as you fought through your presentation, Jimin’s presence by your side making it so much more difficult to maintain control of your arousal . But the full day of public and torturous stimulation was worth it, for the reward that night was a call from Namjoon. His orders led you through every action of self pleasure. Telling you when and where to touch before finally directing you to come. You’ve used the item several times on your own since, knowing your practice would help you in this moment. You wanted to make Namjoon proud and take him with little resistance. That desire now intensified with having Taehyung as an audience.

“Then you're ready to take me in front of him?”

You nod gripping chains of the restraints as Namjoon eases into you. “Just relax.” His hands glide down your shoulders and back, coming to rest splayed across your hips, the tips of his finger root under the corset and dig into your stomach. Your grip eases as you lean back into him. “That’s it.” He mutters quietly as you stretch to accommodate him. “Good girl.”

After taking a few inches Namjoon pushes down on the front of your corset bowing the metal latches back to so they release, with a few clicks and swift presses the garment is off allowing you to breathe deeper than you have all day.

“God you should see him babygirl, he’s so ruined by the sight of you. You have him panting for you.” You wish you could curse Namjoon for his choice to blindfold you and silence Taehyung, you would take any punishment that came of it, but all you can muster is a gasp while he continues to fill you more. “I wonder how he’ll react,” One of Namjoon’s hands leaves your hips coming to rest with something soft against your aching clit. “When he sees you come.” With a click the object vibrates, throwing you back completely onto Namjoons cock from the shock.

You catch Namjoon’s lustful groan between your cries. He starts to thrust inside of you one hand gripping your chest while the other holds the vibrate down in place despite your bucking hips. It doesn’t take long for you to completely fold. As the heat inside you finally reaches its peak you shatter, your head falling back on Namjoon’s shoulder as you convulse and moan. With nothing for your cunt to clench your legs grip the trussed man between them. He too lets out a sinful groan as the fluids from your fold continue to drip down your legs meet his adjoining skin.

Namjoon turns the device off and slips out, the bed shifts as he moves in front of you. When his hand cups your face you lean into his touch. “You okay?”

You nod hoping he’ll be lenient with your lack of speech. You hear him whisper as he checks in with Taehyung too. “I’m going to take these now.” Namjoon must finally be freeing him from the waded underwear of yours.

Namjoon’s hands find you again, playing with the arousal dripping down your legs as he drags his fingers up to the source. A finger grazes your folds slipping between without penetrating. You pull desperately against your restraints hoping that it might find its way inside.

“So are you going to tell me who you’re not allowed to have?” Namjoon asks again. “Or do I have to let you hang here all night?”

“My secretary...” You give in with a whisper, hoping that Taehyung won’t hear.

“And what’s his name? Say it and I’ll give you what you want.”

The deal is too good for you to resist, you last only a couple more seconds before finally giving in. Crying out, “Jimin,” as two of Namjoon’s fingers breach you. Your sopping slit squelching as he curls his fingers.

“There it is.” Namjoon sighs, his other hand brushing your cheek. “Is he the reason you’re so worked up tonight babygirl?”

“Y-yes sir.” You stutter as his fingers continue. He gives you another minute of bliss before removing his digits.

“You’re going to do something for me, okay?” Namjoon asks. You nod as he continues to hold your face. “That man between your legs, you are going to fuck him and imagine Jimin as you do so, is that clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Is that okay with you pet?” He asks the other occupant, who still remains silent with his answers. The sound of another condom wrapper, comes as your confirmation. Taehyung lets out an unexpected high pitched whine, likely due to the pressure that comes with the latex being rubbed down his shaft. You’re already so invested in the lie that he’s even starting to sound like Jimin.

Namjoon is once again behind you. You can hear the rattle of the length of chain that holds you up and as he sinks back into you, his cock slipping in far easier this time, your body gladly welcomes the fullness of his intrusion. He then lowers you inch by inch, with little strength left in your legs you are relying only on the restraints and Namjoon to hold you up. After gaining a bit more freedom you can feel the tip of a cock brushing up against you. Namjoon’s arm comes to rest on your thigh as he lines the erection up for you to take it inside. It’s a slow descent, as you stretch to accommodate both of them. Your thankful Namjoon’s mercy for easing you down gradually.

When you bottom out Namjoon pulls the chain down from the rafters he releases the length from your cuffs, but rather than discarding it he attaches it to your collar, tugging on it as if it’s a leash. Though your hands are still bound together you have the freedom to rest them on the man laying down in front of you. You take pleasure in dragging the tips of your fingers across his skin, feeling his abs flex and his cock twitch inside you as you do so.

Namjoon starts to thrust, keeping a close hold on your collar. While he pushes you are sent up and down on what you desperately want to be Jimin’s thick cock. After a few thrusts you are shoved forward entirely by Namjoon, colliding with the man beneath you. Your chest is pushed into his, as your bound hands are pinned between the two of you. While your head is left to rest on his shoulder, the tip of your nose is able to graze his neck. As you breathe in your mind continues to play tricks, the smell coming off him mimics that of the cologne your secretary wears, rather than the scent of Taehyung.

Namjoon must have unbound his legs as they bend up to cradle your own from behind his hips bucking into yours, with both men taking you at a steady pace.

You move in closer to his neck, with a lick you taste the salt of his skin showing your intentions. Biting down on the spot, you suck in deeply as your teeth dig in even harder. The carnal groans you receive from him sending shivers to your spine. There’s the sound of a soft slap, Namjoon didn’t hit you, but the man beneath you returns to his ordered silence.

Namjoon thrusts even harder, pushing you into his chest repeatedly. The thought of being fucked into Jimin’s embrace is too much to bear. Your cunt clenches as you continue envisioning your secretary, and how you're grinding your clit against his pelvis.

You cry out over the swelling girths inside you, knowing their both likely to come soon. Clenching down one last time you dissolve in the pleasure and contentment. Namjoon finishes first remaining inside while his pet comes too. He leaves you there laying upon your imagined Jimin, in your daze you can barely move let alone focus on reality. With a wave of exhaustion you start to slip from consciousness, but not before one last praise reaches your ears. Your delirium grants you the satisfaction of hearing the voice of Jimin whisper, “Good girl.”

...

You can’t remember the last time you slept so well. You woke early to find Namjoon had taken care of you in the night, he released your wrist cuffs, and removed your blindfold, after you had passed out from the physical exertion. The only restraint to remain was your collar which he asked you to wear today. Taehyung was sadly already gone, but you can’t deny it was nice to have Namjoon to yourself before you left.

Now as you head off to work, showered and freshly dressed, with a turtleneck hiding your gift, you check your phone for the first time. Finding a string of apologetic messages sent from Jimin in the early hours of the morning. You reply apologizing too and asking to revisit the subject as soon as you get into work. Thankfully he agrees, the smiling emoji he ends his text on sends a wave of relief through you.

You step in the front entrance of your building ready to handle and objectively listen to Jimin’s thoughts and concerns. While you wait for the elevator your phone vibrates listing a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hey it’s Taehyung. Hope you don’t mind, I stole your personal number from my father.”

“Taehyung...” Heat starts to rise in your face at the thought of last night. The elevator arrives and you quickly step in. “No, not at all, to what do I owe the honour of this call.”

“No need to be so formal,” He giggles at you.

“Sorry, habit,” You respond. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday...” Taehyung starts off.

But his words are soon interrupted by someone shouting, “Hold the door.” You comply, pushing the button to keep them open, while trying to keep your focus on your conversation with Taehyung.

“...It’s not often that I meet someone who I can be so open with. I called the man you recommended and I’ve scheduled my first session with him tomorrow.”

You freeze, unable to fully comprehend what he’s saying, surely he misspoke. It can’t be his first session. “W-what do you mean your first session is tomorrow? You were there-” The collar hidden beneath your turtleneck feels as though it’s tightening around your throat. “Last night, I saw you-” The line goes dead as the elevator closes and starts to ascend. It was Taehyung in the bed with you and Namjoon last night. You saw... nothing you saw nothing because of the blindfolded that you were asked to wear.

“Everything okay?” You jump at the sound of the other voice, forgetting that some else had gotten into the elevator. Looking up you find Jimin there beaming at you, his head tilted from his query.

“Namjoon,” You flutter with your phone, too panicked to even greet your secretary properly. “I need to call Namjoon.” But the line won’t connect, not with you in the elevator. “Fuck...” You try again your patience not willing to wait the minute it’ll take to disembark on your floor.

You are almost there when the elevator shudders and stops. The sudden halt sends you off balance, but Jimin’s there to grab hold of you before you can fall. You thank him before stepping back and putting a bit of distance between the two of you again.

Jimin turns his attention to the panel, pushing the call button, he waits for someone to answer, but the call remains silent.

While he continues in his attempt to make contact, every scene of the night before floods back to your memory as you try to piece everything together. It was Taehyung, it had to be. He must just be playing a stupid joke. He was surely going to shout ‘gotcha’ before the phone disconnected, but you won’t know for certain until someone can get you off this blasted lift. You sink to the floor and Jimin follows, unable to reach anyone on the outside.

Despite your best efforts to rationalize what happened, your panicked breaths fail to slow, Spots start appearing in your vision as the elevator sways around you. Your breakfast threatens to make another appearance on the polished marble floor.

“It’ll be fine. Someone will notice soon.” Jimin attempts to comfort you but even that won’t quash the fear raging inside you.

“It’s not just that...” You whisper. “Something happened last night. I need to call Namjoon, I need to figure out...” Who was actually in that bed with you. Your confusion and panic break free sending you into a fit of tears as you hug your knees to your chest.

“Hush, it’s okay.” Jimin readjusts, moving in front of you and taking your hands in his. He leans towards you as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t cry babygirl.”

Your eyes snap to look at Jimin in alarm. Your prior worries are nothing compared to the terror which takes hold now. “H-how do you know that name?” Your stuttered words barely make their way past your lips.

“I think you know the answer to that question.” He pulls at the collar of his shirt allowing you to spot a large red mark on his neck, right where you had bitten the man you once thought to be Taehyung. “I wanted to wait a bit longer, I wanted more moments like we had last night but it would seem that someone had to go and ruin it.” You pull back but Jimin’s hands shift to take hold of your wrists, mimicking the manacles that embraced you the night before. “Are you not happy babygirl? You got your wish. And I... I got what I’ve always wanted.”

“This is so wrong Jimin! You knew I thought you were someone else! You knew that I wouldn’t have done that last night if I knew the truth.”

“Even though I was the one you really wanted babygirl?”

“Stop calling me that! Just because of what happened last night does not make me yours. You lied to Namjoon. You said that I sent you. You told him you were Taehyung!”

Jimin gives a wicked laugh in response to your accusations. “Oh, but you are mine. Namjoon is the one who’s been keeping things from you. He’s been in my employ far longer than yours.” He coos as his fingers tighten their grip on you. “I was the reason you were introduced to him, and I was the one who bestowed you with that name shortly after.”

“No, that’s not possible, Namjoon and I, we met at a charity event.”

“Hosted by my father. Where I told him to make himself known to you, to entice you to become one of his pets. I may have acted the sub last night but I am the one who holds Namjoon’s reins, I always have.”

“No he would never do that! He’s considerate and-”

“Had so much to gain by dominating you on my behalf. Money, power, and an assurance of safety, he would’ve been a fool to turn my offer down. Especially since you were so willing to play along with him. I dare say he enjoyed his time with you, but I was the one who permitted him to touch you. I was there to listen, to read, and to direct every conversation. Those gifts he told you to wear to the office, they were all from me.” He lets go of one of your wrists to pull down the neck of your shirt. Revealing the leather band strapped around your neck. “Today it’s the collar, yesterday it was the corset, and a few weeks ago...” Jimin smirks as he recalls the memory to your mind. “You barely made it through that meeting thanks to my gift.”

It’s impossible to swallow the admissions coming from him, but regardless of what may be true or false, you won’t stand for any of it. “You’ve had your fun, but this ends now.” You reach up attempting to remove the collar but Jimin pushes you to the floor pinning your arms above you as he straddles you. The elevator wavers from the struggle, teetering as you lay captive beneath him.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’ve placed yourself in. I hold in my possession your darkest secrets. One’s that will ruin you if they make their way out. Your illegal activity with a sex worker, your inappropriate sexual conduct with your secretary. Not to mention the names and dubious activities of every client you’ve recommended to Namjoon’s services.”

“Why... why are you doing this?”

“Because you found me. I worked so hard to exploit my father from the outside, getting everything I wanted without the threat of public exposure. I couldn’t let you ruin it all. When we first met I considered you a threat, but then I saw how easy and enjoyable it was to mould to my will. The more intimate you become with someone the more power you give them over you. Simply being your secretary isn’t enough, not if I want you in a more pliable state.” Jimin hushed whisper mixes with a haunting giggle as his lips come to your ear. “I plan to bend you to fit every one of my needs.”

“You’re psychotic!” You lash out trying to throw him off but he stems your revolt by planting himself further down on to you, sitting on your chest as the elevator sways.

“Psychotic? No, I am simply a man who found his passion amidst his revenge. I know what I desire, and vengeance has taught me how best to take it. So if you want to keep yourself and everything else around you from falling, I suggest you play along like a good girl. Or I promise you, my punishments won’t be as kind as what you’ve experienced before.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask, already fearing his answer. He has you trapped in a gilded cage with him, where one misstep will send you plummeting to meet your end. Nothing that comes accompanied by such threats can be palatable.

“At work? To keep the status quo, I’ll remain your secretary, only so I can keep a better hold on you.”

“Hoseok won’t agree to that. He already thinks I should ditch you. I should have listened to him.”

“Then you will make him agree or he might have an accident, much like your accountant did. He too thought we were too close, even threatened to say something. Don’t worry I saved us from him, just as I’ll save us from Hoseok if you can’t convince him to back off. Do you think you can get him to agree now?”

You give a solemn nod, with Hoseok on the line you have no choice.

“After hours, we’ll drop the middleman.” Jimin lowers himself further on to you, laying down on top, his weight flattening you to the floor. With his head coming to rest on your restrained arm as he whispers further plans. “Every night you’ll come to me instead, and every morning you’ll have a new gift to wear. When we step off this elevator you’ll act as if nothing is wrong. You will go about business as usual, is that clear babygirl?”

You stifle a sob staring directly up and away from his eyes, not daring to give him the satisfaction of your fear. With little else to cling to, all you can do is agree for the time being, as much as it pains you, you choke out your compliance. “Yes...”

“Yes what?” Jimin purrs, his lips faintly touching your ear. “Address me properly, or I will find ways to discipline you right here on this lift.” His fingers tighten and nails bite into your skin.

“Yes sir,” you whine as a plea for him to stop.

Jimin mercifully lessens his hold on your wrists, hitting you instead with a smirk and befouled praise. “Good girl. I knew you’d finally see that I’m worth the risk.”

...

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starglow-xx · 4 years ago

Text

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 4)

platonic! mori ougai x f!reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff

previous: the doctor is in the house (quite literally)

author’s note: it’s port mafia time! ages are still one year younger than canon

also!! my 100 followers event still has 7 5 4 3 2 1 spot open for requests!! go check out this post for more info!! i’d like to get the whole prompt list done early so i have time to write them! (event is now closed as of feb. 10, 2021)

another doctor? oh wait, another doctor and his daughter

as you expected, ranpo and fukuzawa have not let you go easy after what had happened a couple days prior (3 days ago to be exact)

one of them, or more often than not, the two of them would go visit the bakery at least twice a day

once in the morning right before opening, and the second time right before closing

if they could, they would visit around lunch time, but that was usually yosano

tbh you were thankful that yosano hasn’t been as overbearing as the other two but you knew she probably wanted to give you a break because holy shit are they extremely over protective

currently, it was the fourth day of being watched by the two eldest ada members, but there were no said ada members with you at the moment

and boy were you overjoyed

turns out, the ada has an important escort job for a government official or smth, and on top of that, fukuzawa has a bunch of meetings to attend

even ranpo has his hands full with a couple of difficult murder cases across the country

you’re lowkey, no highkey, worried bc you learned literally 3 days ago that ranpo doesn’t know how to ride the train 😀😀

you were worried abt them, there’s no question, but on the inside you were a bit relieved to which ranpo called you out on it immediately

that led to the two of you going at each other’s throats for nearly half an hour

let’s just say fukuzawa scolded the two fo you for a while

going back to the present, it was around one pm and you had just finished sending a text message to both fukuzawa and ranpo (cause they insisted) when a little blonde girl with blue eyes wearing a red dress matching with a red bow in her hair and red shoes walked in

she immediately went to the glass case to look at the desserts displayed

as she looked around, you watched her at the corner of your eyes and a with a smile as you wiped down one of the tables

after wiping down the table, you quickly went to go wash your hands and you walked over and stood next to her

you bent slightly and smiled bigger as she stared at one of the treats in the glass

“is that the one you want?”

she nodded without looking away from the glass

you giggled before going to the back and placing the one she wanted on the plate and held it out to her

the blonde was honestly so confused bc one, no adult supervision, and two, there was no tell tale way to know that she had money

to you, she was an open book so when she looked at you, her face immediately read “but i have no money, or a parent...??”

you simply patted her head and pushed along to one of the nearby tables and pulled a chair for her

you did not regret anything when you saw the look on her face when you told her that it was on the house

“name’s elise!” “i’m (y/n)!”

you sat with her for a while continuing to give her sweets she reminded you of ranpo in all honestly and talking abt random things

she mostly complained abt a “rintarou” though

speaking of which, when a man in a doctor’s coat came through the door near screaming “elise-chan! elise-chan!” you figured that was probably the rintarou she was complaining abt

you smiled as you watched the two interact

“elise-chan why would just disappear like that?!”

“i wanted to see rintarou cry”

“so mean!”

...their behavior was questionable but endearing ig

“rintarou” suddenly turned to you, thanking you for “taking care of his daughter bc she’s always getting into trouble”

*cue angry noises and face from elise*

he introduced himself as a “local neighborhood doctor”

you smelled bullshit but didn’t say anything bc he has been kind to you so far

he asked you how he could repay you and you were thinking that you can actually win something bc you’re not refusing an ada member oh you poor oblivious child but you were appalled when elise answered for you

it went like this

“is there anything i can repay you with for taking care of my dear elise-chan? perhaps paying for all the sweets she has eaten?”

“oh no! don’t worry abt that, it’s nothing! it was a pleasure getting to know—”

“let’s buy out all of her food!”

h u h

you knew she enjoyed your pastries and stuff but like w h a t

you inwardly sigh in relief when the doctor agreed with you that “that’s a bit much elise-chan” and you were thanking every deity out there when suddenly

she threw a temper tantrum

you watched in confusion and slight horror at the 180 of the sweet little girl you were talking to like 10 minutes ago

her guardian panicked slightly and tried to get her to calm down but ahaha no that didn’t happen

“WAHH rintarou!! but i want it!! (y/n)’s food is the best i’ve ever had!!”

“b-but elise-chan, we can’t just buy—”

“i’ll wear all the dresses i’ve ever rejected and more if we buy it out right now and keep buying sweets here forever”

“...deal”

your eyes twitch at the “innocent” smiles the two gave you after their “talk”

fast forward literally 5 minutes and you’ve already flipped the close sign on your door with note (saying you’re sold out) and you’re all over the place running around behind the counter trying to fit everything into boxes as the two are sitting on a nearby table lightly chatting

about 20-25, nearly 30 minutes later you finishing packing everything in the glass case

it was a lot

we’re literally talking about tiered cakes and dozens of batches of cookies, cupcakes, literally everything and anything

when the two notice you’re done they get up meet you by the register

“a-ano, you really don’t have to buy all of this...the total is going to be quite large...”

“no worries!”

honestly at this point, you kind of missed the chaotic calls from ranpo that happened like every half hour

you thought you were done being surprised for the day but next thing you know men in suits come into Sakura’s and begin to load the boxes into a black car

dealing with the detectives was already starting to be a handful and now you have to deal whoever the hell these two people where

quite frankly, you were having trouble wrapping your head around all of this

like-

who buys out a whole bakery?!

and who has the money to buy out a whole bakery?!

what kind of job could you possibly have?!

was this guy really just a doctor?!

right before the two leave you call out to them

“a-ah wait! i don’t think i ever caught your name!”

the two blink at you before eyeing each other

“mori ougai” 😄😄

you started smelling bad shits again

>:/

it was a weird feeling

you felt something off but at the same time, you weren’t really afraid

and with that the two left

you were already tired from this whole thing but you now get the rest of the day off

so i guess something worked out in your favor

until the next fricking day

again, ranpo and fukuzawa canceled out on you

you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not

and as soon as you thought you were going to have a normal business day, guess who walked through the doors

yeah that’s right

“the local neighborhood doctor” and his daughter

you froze before eyeing them with suspicion

if mori was amused, he didn’t show it, only giving you a smile

elise immediately left his side and practically leaped onto you making you cut yourself with the knife you were holding

well shit now you’re bleeding

it was only 7:15 in the morning; you had literally just opened

you were cursing every deity out there

you quickly grab a nearby and press it against your wound and scrambled around looking for the first aid kit you had nearby

“oh? (y/n)-kun are you bleeding?”

“(y/n) i’m sorry!”

“a-ah, no worries elise-chan”

you really need to stop spacing out bc next thing you know, the sign on your door is flipped to close again (along with the same note from yesterday explaining you’re sold out taped on the door) and you’re sitting at a table with elise in your lap and mori wrapping your hand in a bandage

“tsk tsk (y/n)-kun you need to be more careful...but it is elise-chan’s fault”

“die rintarou!”

“but no worries! it’s not that deep so you don’t need stitches”

“thank you, mori-san, but can i ask why you and elise-chan are here again? not that i mind...”

whether or not you were lying is up to you

“oh we’re here to buy out your stock again!”

“wait what-”

the fuck???

did they not just buy everything yesterday???

frozen, you stare at the man in front if you with said man giving you another “innocent” smile

this little shit

wait till you meet dazai

but i guess that’s why the sign on the door is flipped to close bc you don’t even remember flipping it yourself or taping the note from yesterday to the door

you spent the next half hour trying to convince the two over some tea (your signature one of course) that “no you don’t need to or should buy everything i have, you’re going to deprive the rest of my customers”

cough cough ranpo

like the day before, you were losing this argument

can you just never win?

as you were losing the argument (obviously) you realized that you don’t even know why they want to buy everything again

“mori-san, why do the two of you even want to buy everything in the first place?”

“ah it was elise-chan’s request of course! but i do admit, after trying some of your sweets myself, i grew quite attached! so did the rest of my subordinates after my precious elise-chan made them try it, not like they could refuse her or me; i am their boss after all (y/n)-kun.”

*cue confusion*

“subordinates? wait are those the guys from yesterday?? aren’t you a doctor...?”

“ah ex-doctor actually, i’m the leader of the port mafia”

...

“ah (y/n)-kun that’s quite the coughing fit you have going on, do you need water?”

if it wasn’t obvious, you choked on your tea and had quite the coughing fit; you were wheezing and everything making elise leave you lap and settling for dangling over mori’s shoulders

“...you’re kidding”

“im afraid im not”

this man confuses the hell out of you??

like-

w h y would he just say that, to you of all people

but it explains the bad shits you were smelling/feeling yesterday

“are you afraid?”

“being completely honest with you, mori-san, not really”

“and why is that?”

you simply shrug not really knowing the answer

you aren’t lying, you just aren’t

maybe bc yesterday, he seemed more like a doting parent than the boss of the most criminal organization of yokohama

yes, you’ve heard the rumors, obviously, but just saying, if the port mafia wanted to hurt you, you’d probably be dead in a ditch by now

and they haven’t really been a bother to you, they were more like background characters in your life

well

until yesterday of course

mori simply raises an eyebrow and a smile seemingly okay with your very vague answer

“why did you tell me that mori-san?”

the man only smiles a bit wider at you and this time, you’re the one raising an eyebrow

“just a feeling”

yeah you were starting to smell bad shits again

“and besides! elise-chan seems quite fond of you (y/n)-kun! i wasn’t planning on doing anything to you in the first place, but even if i wanted to, i don’t think i could! i wouldn’t want to upset my dearest cute elise-chan”

“die rintarou!”

“that’s mean elise-chan!”

your eyes began to twitch in slight annoyance

cause istg the duality of this man—

this strange strange man

oh dearest you haven’t even met dazai yet

after that has been said and done, somehow you found yourself in front of stores being dragged by elise

how did you end up there you ask? i don’t know either so there’s nothing we can do abt that

eventually, you found yourself holding a bunch of shopping bags full of dresses and clothes of the sort

some of it your size and the others elise’s

...

“mori-san?”

“yes (y/n)-kun?”

“why do i have bags of clothing that are fit for me rather than elise?”

“oh that’s because elise refused to go without you and if you didn’t get anything!”

yeah

that makes perfect sense, of course

you could see why elise kept on complaining abt this guy

the two of you actually bonded over making fun of him

you have n o fear

actually, maybe just a little

the three of you were out for basically the entire day and you were exhausted

cause holy shit there was a lot of money wasted, shopping bags obtained, and walking involved

it was around 5 pm when the three of you were making it back to Sakura’s

along the way you found yourself having a pleasant conversation with mori

even if he was a questionable person to be having a pleasant conversation with, you enjoyed it nonetheless

you hoped that it makes it harder to get rid of you if he ever changed his mind but we don’t talk abt that

anywho

when the three of you arrived, you immediately dumped all the bags you were holding and went straight to work packaging everything for “the local neighborhood doctor”

before they left, mori agreed to not buy out all of your stock except for some occasions but instead settled ordering massive batches of a little bit of everything every few days

how that’s not the same as buying everything you won’t ever know

you were standing outside Sakura’s watching the two get into the car that had arrived when suddenly, mori turned to you

“ah (y/n)-kun, i know that you wouldn’t tell anyone about this, it wouldn’t be like you to, but just a reminder, it would probably be in your best interest not to let anything slip to anyone okay? we wouldn’t want any enemies using you against the port mafia. so take care of yourself hm? see you next time”

and bippity boppity boo just like that, they were gone

how that man managed to get your personality down in just like 10 hours you don’t want to know

and that’s basically the story of how you started making more food/bake goods to sell

true to his word, every few days, or sometimes consecutive days, mori called you and made a large order

and i mean large

on those days, someone from the port mafia would pick it up and then you get paid

thankfully, by increasing the amount of food you made, you always had enough to put out on display and to sell even after the large order

before doing that, on those days you didn’t have a large stock, someone by the name of edogawa ranpo would weep at your feet

he will deny this; after all, great detectives don’t do weeping

or so he says

and speaking of the detective, you never did tell him what had transpired the two days he and fukuzawa were absent on checking on you

but tbh, i even think ranpo could’ve deduct this one

you didn’t tell him bc you were afraid, no of course not that’s ridiculous mori, in elise’s words, was a loser

you didn’t tell him bc you knew he and fukuzawa would flip the fuck out

and that would be a major inconvenience to you

you didn’t see the point in telling them anyway

so whatever, it’s like it’ll be important

and if ranpo and fukuzawa noticed the abundant of bags near the door leading up to the staircase when they visited you at the end of the day they didn’t say anything

of course one of them said smth

“ne (n/n)-chan since when did you like to buy a bunch of things; waste of money if you could just be using that money to make more food so you wouldn’t sell out right away and have food to feed me”

your eyes twitched

he could’ve worded that a little better but whatever

it is ranpo-san after all

“i just got carried away since i closed up early; you know it isn’t often i get to go shopping”

and if he smelled your bullshit he didn’t say anything

for real this time

that slightly concerns you ngl

anyways

let’s just say quite a few heads were turned when they saw their boss leading a bunch of lower level subordinates carrying many light pink boxes of different sizes to his office for the second time

oh and just another thing

*whispers* he was lying when elise made his other subordinates eat your food; they kept it all to themselves”

was that a ruse to help lead the revelation of his real occupation who knows

“(y/n)-kun is a very interesting person don’t you think so elise-chan?”

“quiet. i’m eating cake.”

“that’s so mean elise-chan!”

<<previous // next >>

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nagimitsus · 3 years ago

Text

Title: somewhere along the line

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Synopsis: For all his delicate appearance, Venti has always been incredibly strong.

Diluc has known this from the start. Before the traveler entered their lives, before the battles, before he saw him standing in front of a dragon, ready to give everything in exchange for the freedom of another. And Diluc had thought, now that is how a god should behave.

That is someone I could believe in.

[Read on AO3!]

For all his delicate appearance, Venti has always been incredibly strong.

That is someone I could believe in.

It should come as a surprise, the amount of respect that he has gathered for the bard of melodious voice that makes himself at home only at his tavern. But it doesn’t. Maybe Diluc felt a pang of nuisance at first, when he thought of Venti only as a drunkard with too many stories to tell.

That was before he came to know him. Before the nights when his smile became sad after too many bottles of wine, small and nostalgic and unfitting in such a bright face. Before he understood that there was still a raw wound behind those eyes of his, still bleeding as much as Diluc’s own.

Diluc took the habit of offering him a glass of water and telling him to go home. The sensation of discomfort that nested his chest when Venti smiled up at him and asked what home was he talking about made Diluc wince.

At some point between that and the whole Dvalin situation, he stops asking Venti to go home and starts keeping him company until the silent streets of Mondstadt, illuminated only by the moon and the stars, call back for its bard.

When Venti leaves, his smile is a bit more grateful and a lit less lonely, and Diluc tells him “I hope you find something more rewarding to spend your time on, tomorrow” but thinks See you later.

Venti laughs. It sounds like a breeze. “What’s more rewarding than wine, I wonder?” he says, and has the audacity to wink.

Diluc sighs, because there’s nothing else he can do.

The thing about Venti is that he doesn’t want to be worshipped.

He doesn’t. It’s made clear in the way he behaves, the way he doesn’t stop too much in front of the church unless it’s to perform, the way he talks to the citizens of his country as if they were more friends than subjects. And it’s not because he likes the freedom that comes with anonymity, it’s not because of his own wants or needs.

It’s because he wants them to be free, in this city where there are no tyrants and no gods. This city where they can follow the winds and their hearts alike, bound by nothing but their own ideals.

Diluc protects Mondstadt, fiercely. Because he loves everything it represents and everything it stands for.

And likewise, he protects the god that gifted them all of this.

Venti stops by the Winery of Dawn sometimes. Diluc finds him trying to steal wine or sleeping inside a barrel, and thinks: this is not a deity, this is a raccoon.

Still, because he has a bit of faith left in him and because he used to go to church with his father back in the day, Diluc takes him by the back of his cape and into the house, where he makes sure he’s put to rest in one of their spare rooms, with enough water on his bed table to deal with the hangover.

By the next morning he’s always gone, but the wind blows gently through the open window.

Sometimes, if he’s still sober enough to string a few words together when Diluc takes him in, Venti laughs, and clings to his shoulders with both arms, and says things like “I can sing for you if you desire it, Master Diluc”, with that sweet voice blurry but cheerful.

Diluc sits him down before the fireplace on those occasions, just so he can make sure that Venti drinks enough water and doesn’t do something like throwing up into his own mouth and suffocating on it.

What a troublesome bard, Diluc thinks. The thought is covered in affection anyway, and he has to sigh to himself at that. Venti blinks slowly at him, almost as if he could know what’s crossing his mind just by looking at him, and then he leans in his direction with a drunken smile that makes Diluc roll his eyes.

“You,” Venti says, slowly but with intent, “are a very good person. Do you know that, Master Diluc?”

The reaction is immediate. Diluc can feel it start on his stomach and creep up until his head, his ears, his hands. It’s a fuzzy sentiment that makes home on his chest and purrs like a cat, a reminder of how good it is to be acknowledged.

Diluc looks back at Venti’s eyes, clear even in his state.

When he was young, he wondered how the truly religious felt. He asked Jean once, eleven or so, as little Barbara tried to sign in tone with the croaking of a frog. And Jean, always patient and warm, had said: I don’t think it can be explained.

But it can.

Diluc feels like he’s being hugged by a tornado and cradled by the breeze at the same time. It’s excruciating and infuriating and exhilarating, and it’s making a knot into his stomach, reddening his ears.

He scoffs lightly, but his voice is not unkind when he says:

“And you are very drunk.”

Venti laughs at that, and the sound reverberates in the space of the room.

The only reason Diluc doesn’t leave is because he’s still afraid that Venti will throw up all over himself.

(The traveler comes.

The traveler comes, they fight against Dvalin, and Diluc has to see Venti’s slender form fly across the battlefield when the dragon hits him once. Even when he gets up immediately, smiling through the pain, the knot that he made in Diluc’s stomach twitches and hurts.

He makes sure to tell Barbara that the bard got hurt once they go back to Mondstadt, and ignores the perplexed look that he sends his way.)

Venti doesn’t come to the winery for a few weeks after the Dvalin incident, and they don’t meet up at the tavern either. Diluc would be worried, if he didn’t see him here and there, talking to Kaeya or playing a simple tune for Klee (who he seems to adore, if the warm look in his eyes as the little girl tries to harmonize with him.)

Diluc is not prone to lie to himself, so he doesn’t even try to deny that he misses Venti’s annoying presence. Still, since the traveler left for Liyue, the whole town seems to have subdued, its upbeat attitude turned into a dull sense of longing.

Someone knocks on his door one night, almost sixteen days after he saw Venti for the last time. And of course, as fate would have it, it’s the bard himself who’s waiting at the other side.

Rain is not unusual in Mondstadt, even when they’re accustomed to a gentle drizzle, so most citizens have learned to take an umbrella with them when the spring is creeping on them.

Venti is dripping wet, and there’s something in the way his clothes cling to the line of his shoulders that make him straight up sad, almost pathetic. Still, the gleam on his eyes is a tell-tale that he’s been drinking, and the curve of his smile is too close to loneliness. It stirs something in Diluc, calls for the silent understanding of their nights in the tavern.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes a step to the side to let him in.

The maids will find awfully unpleasant the wetness on the carpet, Diluc’s mind supplies, but it’s difficult to care when Venti smiles like rain and alcohol and apples, all mixed up. His mere presence tends to be intoxicating, with the way he takes so much space with his voice and his laugh and his music, but it’s even worse now. Maybe it’s because Diluc has become unaccustomed to it.

“Do you need somewhere to stay?” Diluc asks after a few seconds. Venti’s smile is still sad, but it’s there nonetheless.

If this were any other person, the sound of the wind outside might have drowned their words. But Venti has never known how to be quiet, and so Diluc hears him without any trouble:

“You care about me, don’t you, Master Diluc?”

He sighs, and closes the door. The storm becomes a muted sound behind the wood and the steel, and somehow that adds to the intimate atmosphere that this scene carries. Diluc can feel it at his throat, the warning, the threat that comes with the closeness. He talks through it.

“I don’t think you’ve made all the way here just to point out the obvious, bard.”

He turns then, and Venti is still there, looking straight into him. In the pit of his eyes there’s an ancient kind of loneliness that makes him look terribly old. It’s in times like this when it becomes easy to think of him as a god. Again, Diluc thinks of what being religious means, thinks of kissing his temple and his hands until pink and red go back to his skin, thinks of drying his hair and lending him a bed.

That’s not the kind of devotion that a God requires. But for Venti, who would treat the cathedral built in his name just to see Klee smile, who dirties his hands helping Sucrose with her work and runs away from Diona between laughs whenever she gets angry at him, it might be enough.

Venti laughs. The sound is enough to loosen the muscles of Diluc’s tense shoulders.

“I haven’t,” Venti says, and then he turns around and walks into the house as if it belongs to him. Diluc follows, waiting for him to go on. Since he doesn’t, he adds:

“I’m not going to serve you wine here,” just to make sure that’s out of the table.

Venti hums, amused. He goes straight to the fireplace, sticking both hands in front of the flames. Diluc stops just three steps away from him, taking a few seconds to stare at the side of his face, shadows dancing over the curves of his nose, his eyebrows, his neck.

“I lost something important,” Venti says at least, his voice soft, “and my power has decreased drastically.”

Diluc frowns before he can stop himself. Venti looks at him with that same smile that doesn’t suit him, even as he’s winking, probably trying to downplay his own words.

“Worst possible time too, right?”

Diluc would know. The Abyss Order’s activity is still on rise, and the Fatui are getting bolder every passing day. He knows the Knights of Favonious are not good enough to keep them all at bay, not enough to protect all of Mondstadt, bound by the laws and diplomacy and their own duty.

Even so,

“I’m still here,” he reminds him, as if it was obvious. “And Jean will do everything in her power.”

Venti looks at him through the corner of his eye for a second before he’s turning his whole body, hands on his hips. He giggles again, and even though the sound is far off the usual, it doesn’t sound as tense as his last words.

“Are you saying you will protect me, Master Diluc?”

Diluc doesn’t roll his eyes, because he’s not keen on the gesture, but he hopes that the expression on his face is enough to convey his feelings of fond frustration. One can’t be serious with Venti around unless someone is in immediate danger, it seems.

“I am saying that if my actions can bestow some peace upon you, know that I’ll keep protecting Mondstadt.”

Venti takes a step in his direction, then another. When his hands close around Diluc’s white shirt, they leave wet marks that extend through the cloth under his fingers, cold against his skin. The flower on his hat has lost at least two petals in the rain, but his eyes are alive and warm as they look straight into Diluc’s red ones.

He doesn’t feel the need to confess, doesn’t want to kneel down and ask for forgiveness for his sins. But he wants to keep Venti here nonetheless, in the intimacy of the room illuminated only by the flames. Maybe that’s a thought that needs absolution.

“You,” Venti says, very slowly, “are a very good person. Did you know that, Master Diluc?”

He smirks, the little shit. Diluc doesn’t bother to answer this time, because he’s too busy trying to calm down the beating of his heart as Venti gets on his tiptoes, one hand going to his shoulder, the other remaining on his chest.

Diluc leans down into the kiss, and it’s impossible to think of a god when the laugh that he swallows in his own mouth it’s so undeniably Venti.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fic #diluven #dilven #diluc ragnvindr #venti #diluven fic #diluc x venti

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headcanonsandmore · 3 years ago

Text

“Breaktime At The Ministry”

Summary: Hermione finds herself working into the early hours of the morning. Luckily, Ron is there to make sure she is rewarded for her efforts. (A fic to celebrate Hermione’s birthday)

(Warning, this fic contains scenes of a s*xual nature and is not ace safe)

Read on AO3.

This fic contains: cunnilingus, doggystyle, cowgirl style, office s*x, and some mild allusions to food k*nk.

~~~~~~~~

Bloody typical, it was!

Hermione Granger-Weasley was not in the habit of swearing, but sometimes she couldn’t help it.

It was night-time, at the ministry. Hermione glowered down at the stacks of papers on her desk that she had been sorting through. Even by her standards, this was too much. As a teenager, she would have probably enjoyed this. But, after spending two decades married to a certain wonderful redhead, Hermione had long since stopped enjoying working herself to the bone that much.

God, she wished she was at home. Aside from a few apricots obtained from the café before it closed, Hermione hadn’t eaten in over six hours. Normally, she would be at home, enjoying a quiet Saturday night in, perhaps cuddling in bed with Ron after an excellent lasagne he had cooked from scratch.

But, no, she had been called into the office on short notice. Apparently, there had been a sudden development in a high-profile case, and no-one else in the department with her level of authority was available.

Still, she was almost finished now.

Signing one last paper, Hermione placed it on the desk. Yawning, she rose to her feet, and began to place each paper into the safe set against the wall. Given the amount, this sadly took longer than she would have normally liked.

Finally, she placed the last one inside, and closed the safe door.

Hermione gave another yawn, and locked the safe with a flick of her wand.

‘Ms Granger-Weasley?’

Hermione’s head shot upwards to the door. She knew that voice anywhere.

‘Ron!’

In an instant, she’d crossed the room, and threw her arms around him in a hug. She gave a contented sigh as she leaned into his frame, breathing in his signature Ron scent. He smelled of home. Of baked goods, cuddles on the sofa, and of late night misadventures.

‘I missed you,’ she murmured, as they leaned against her desk. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘Missed you too, love,’ he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her bushy hair. He had placed a large box on the desk. ‘Honestly, of all days for you to get called into work. Still, at least you’ve finished in time.’

‘In time?’ Hermione asked, looking up at him. ‘In time for what?’

Ron chuckled.

‘It’s now the Nineteenth of September. Your birthday.’

‘What?’ Hermione exclaimed, suddenly turning to look at the clock on the wall. Sure enough, midnight had just struck. ‘I’m…’

Her shoulders slumped.

‘I’m older.’

‘Hey, what’s with that tone?’ Ron said, his mouth quirking into his signature lop-sided grin.

‘I’m the oldest one out of our friends!’ she said, miserably. ‘I was born in the seventies, Ron!’

‘Only by a few months!’ Ron chuckled, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘You’re barely six months older than me.’

‘Still-’

‘And I seem to recall you having no issues with me getting older.’

‘That’s because you get hotter as you get older!’

Ron’s blue eyes twinkled, and he leaned forward so that he was right up close to her ear.

‘Well,’ he whispered, the tone of his voice sending shivers down Hermione’s neck. ‘Whoever said the same thing wasn’t happening to you too?’

‘V-very funny,’ Hermione stammered, feeling her face flush. Even after almost two decades of marriage, she still found herself shocked that Ron was able to have this effect on her. ‘You’re a tall, handsome redhead. I’m-’

‘Bloody gorgeous,’ Ron whispered. ‘You being a year older isn’t gonna change how mind-bogglingly in love with you I am.’

Ron’s lips met hers, and she found herself clinging to him as their kisses lingered and became emboldened. It was blissful oblivion. Pure and simple. The outside world disappeared. There was only Hermione and the man who loved her.

Eventually, Hermione pulled away, breathlessly.

‘How about you take the weight off your feet, love?’ Ron breathed. ‘You’ve earned it after working so hard.’

With a happy squeal, Hermione found herself lifted off the ground, and placed softly into her desk chair.

‘Why would I need to-’

Hermione’s voice cut off as Ron dropped to his knees before her, his hands sneaking with expert care up her legs to the top of her skirt. His fingers curled around both the pencil skirt and the knickers beneath.

‘R-Ron,’ Hermione stammered, feeling heat begin to pool around her centre. ‘W-We’re in my office…’

‘I know,’ Ron murmured. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘W-well, no… but what if someone turns up?’

Without a word, Ron pulled his wand from his pocket, and pointed it over his shoulder at the door. He was so tall that he didn’t even to reach up high.

Hermione heard the lock in the door click, and the unmistakable buzzing sound that came with a ‘muffliato’ charm.

‘You were saying?’

‘W-well… I… I suppose there isn’t any harm in it-OOOOH…’

She slipped downwards in the chair as Ron’s hand pulled down on her skirt and knickers, the material sliding down her legs. Ron promptly threw them both over his shoulder.

‘You won’t be needing them for a while,’ he growled, as he pulled the chair closer to him. The coolness of the air on her bare skin, as well as the feel of the leather against her bare arse, was oddly thrilling.

‘R-Ron…’ Hermione breathed. ‘D-don’t leave me hanging here…’

The redhead smirked, the desire in his blue eyes encouraged by the soft tremble in his wife’s voice. Ron’s hands began to skim along Hermione’s thighs, sending shivers along her body. The heat in her centre grew stronger, and Hermione found herself perspiring.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it, love.’

‘T-then p-please-oooohhhhh….’

Ron had leaned forward, and his tongue had begun to explore.

Hermione’s legs wrapped around Ron’s head, as her brain began to discombobulate. She was vaguely aware of how constricting her blouse seemed to be as her chest heaved. Her eyes had long since fluttered shut, but she could feel Ron’s mouth still fixed in a grin against her centre.

‘Oooh… f-fuck… Ron… oh, god…’

One of Ron’s hands began to explore further up her body, his fingers skimming over her blouse. With a quick flick of his fingers, the buttons were undone. His hand came to rest on her left breast, fondling her through the lace bra she was wearing. The heat was now roaring through Hermione’s body, concentrating every atom of her being on the pleasure that was emanating from her centre.

‘R-Ron… I’m… almost…’

Ron chuckled against her, and Hermione let out a breathy gasp.

‘Do it, love,’ Ron whispered. ‘Fuck, I love you…’

Her body gave one last tremble, and Hermione felt her orgasm erupt. Her limbs sprawled out as the full force of her ecstasy rolled over her, pulsing through her being over and over again.

Gasping, she fell back against the chair.

‘Merlin, ‘Mione,’ Ron breathed, emerging from under her skirt. ‘You’re so beautiful…’

He climbed to his feet, and leaned forward, kissing her softly on the mouth. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, still half-dazed. God, Ron knew just what buttons to push with her, and Hermione was not complaining!

‘R-Ron…’

Ron’s eyes glinted in the candlelight as he stared down at her.

‘‘Mione…’

With a growl, Ron pulled Hermione to her feet, wrapped his arms around her waist as he pressed their lips together. Hermione shivered as she felt his girth throb against her stomach.

‘Someone’s excited,’ she whispered, against his lips.

‘Can you blame me?’ Ron growled, his hands now fondling her arse cheeks. ‘Merlin, ‘Mione, you drive me wild…’

Ron’s expert hands rose up her back, and a few seconds later her blouse dropped to the floor. Ron’s shirt and trousers quickly followed. Hermione felt her centre grow hotter as Ron’s pectoral muscles flexed before her. God, why was he so sexy?

‘Been a while since I was naked in the office’ she said, as Ron’s hands undid the clasp of her bra. The lacy item joined the rest of Hermione’s clothes on the floor. The reaction from Ron’s nether regions was immediate, and Hermione felt her breathing continue to grow heavier.

‘Must be at least a year,’ the redhead replied, his eyes glinting as he stared down at her. ‘Shame we can’t make this a routine.’

Ron picked his wand up where he had left in on the desk, and cast a non-verbal spell. The tell-tale signs of the contraception charm washed over them, leaving a brief purple light that disappeared after a few seconds.

‘I’m… I’m the head of the department,’ Hermione gasped, pulling down on Ron’s black boxer-briefs. ‘I can’t make a habit of shagging my husband in office hours.’

‘True,’ Ron replied, kissing her neck as he stepped out the offending material pooled around his ankles. ‘But we’re not in office hours, Hermione. And speaking of shagging…’

With a deep growl, Ron spun Hermione around, so that she was pressed up against her desk. One of his hands reached around her, closing around her left breast. Ron’s lips met hers once again, and Hermione found herself pressing her arse up against Ron’s girth.

‘Do it,’ she gasped, reaching up to wrap her fingers into Ron’s hair. ‘Make love to me, Ron.’

Ron surged forward, and Hermione was struck by the familiar sensation of being filled. The heat pulsing through her body grew more intense by the moment, as Ron continued to buck against her.

‘F-fuck,’ Ron growled, into her ear. ‘‘Mione…’

‘Ron…’

Their lips met again, and Hermione moaned against him. God, this was wonderful. Even after so many years of marriage, the attraction between them never seemed to diminish. If anything, it had deepened and developed over time, forming a bedrock of love and affection that had seem them through so much.

‘Ron…’

‘H-Hermione,’ Ron moaned, ‘The chair…’

Turning around, Ron pulled Hermione with him. Stumbling slightly. he sat down in the leather office chair, and Hermione bestraddled his lap, moving around so that she was facing him. Their lips met again, as their bodies began to buck against each other. One of Ron’s freckled hands became entangled in her bushy hair, while the other was busy fondling her arse. She could already feel it beginning to pinken.

‘I… I love you, Hermione,’ Ron gasped, his breathing ragged and intense. ‘No matter h-how old we get. You understand?’

Hermione nodded, her heart beating faster with the welling of emotion within her. Lust mixed with the sheer love she had for her husband.

‘Mione…’

‘Ron… g-god, I’m…’

‘M-me too… can… can I…?’

‘Y-yes! Do it… Ron… oooohhhh!’

Their bodies gave one last motion, and their orgasms hit. Hermione’s limbs flailed, and she fell against Ron’s chest, gasping for breath.

‘Merlin, I love you, Hermione,’ Ron breathed, his voice less ragged. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too, Ron,’ she replied, kissing him on the lips. ‘So much.’

After their breathing had slowly calmed, they sat up in Hermione’s office chair, and cuddled against each-other, enjoying the feeling of just being with the other.

‘Do you mind if we have a slow day after we get home?’ Hermione said. ‘I could use a nice lie-in. Unless you had anything planned?’

‘That sounds good to me. Although, before we leave for home…’

Ron clicked his fingers, and his wand leapt from the desk into his hand. He then summoned the large box that he had been carrying earlier. He opened it, and Hermione was immediately aware of a sugary scent.

‘You brought cake?’

‘You were working into the early hours, Hermione,’ Ron said, cutting a couple of slices with his wand and then handing one to her. ‘I knew you probably hadn’t eaten in ages. And, well, it is your birthday cake.’

‘You’re so sweet,’ she said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Ron smiled at her, and the two of them began to leisurely eat.

‘So…’ Ron asked, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s shoulder. ‘Do you feel a bit better about being a year older?’

Hermione smiled, coyly.

‘Maaybe,’ she replied, her finger running up and down Ron’s thigh. ‘Although I could probably use a little more persuading.’

Slowly and deliberately, Ron scooped a large part of cream off his slice of cake, and began to daub it down Hermione’s chest. Hermione felt her centre began to heat up once again, as Ron’s mouth twisted into his signature lop-sided grin.

‘I think that can be arranged.’

~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone; hope you liked it!

#tw: smut #tw: sm*t #tw: sex #tw: s*x #not ace safe #lemon #tw: not ace safe #romione #ronmione #tw: kink #tw: food mention #warning- strong language #happy birthday hermione granger!#ron x hermione #hermione x ron #hermione/ron #ron/hermione #ron loves hermione #hermione loves ron

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glassartpeasants · 4 years ago

Text

Lovely

Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, cheating,

A/N: (edit) To all that have seen the first authors note, don’t mind it. I was supposed to finish this awhile ago but never got around to it until now. But yes crying in the club is still going on it’s just on hiatus. But i promise its not going to be as long as the Hero wannabe hiatus. So either way enjoy it lol

~~~

You were no idiot, you saw the way he looked at her. Hearts in his eyes, stutters on his words, face red. All the tell tale signs of someone falling in love. It would have been sweet and cute if the person wasn’t your boyfriend.

Distance. That’s how it’s always been. No matter what you did you could never get Shigaraki to fully trust you. It was a struggle to even convince him to be your boyfriend and it was even more of a struggle to see people get way closer to him then you ever could. It hurt. You would make him food, give him gifts and everything under the sun cause you loved him. Honestly you feel like the only reason he said yes was out of pity. And that hurt even worse.

So you just watched. Watched as your boyfriend fall in love for another. You tried asking him about it and all he said was ‘it doesn’t matter, calm down jesus.’ which didn’t give you much comfort.

“Am I really that annoying?” You thought as you looked at your phones lock screen. Showing a picture of you and Shigaraki together. Normally looking at this picture would make you happy. But once getting a closer look, you see the reflection in his eyes as he stared at something while you took the picture. You try to get a closer look and let out a little sob once you saw the familiar body shape of the woman that Shigaraki wanted.

You open your phone and go to gallery. Immediately deleting said picture. You wanted one that just had you two in it. One where you both looked genuinely happy. Searching, searching, and searching only for nothing to come up. All of them he was frowning. You put your phone on your bed before fully collapsing on your bed. Sobs racked your body as you try to find excuses and reasons why he loves you.

But you couldn’t think of any.

~~~

You sat there, anger boiling inside you as you watched as that girl flirted with Shigaraki. And he didn’t say anything about having a girlfriend! Everyone could sense the tension in the room. Everyone wondering who would make the first move. You or Shigaraki. The last straw for you was when she kissed him on the cheek.

You stood up throwing your hands on the table startling everyone. You sent daggers at Shigaraki while you stomped out of the room. Slamming the door shut along the way. Anyone that passed you could obviously sense your untrained anger.

You walked to your room and got some clothes, shoving them in a backpack. You weren’t leaving forever just leaving for a little bit to clear your mind. You’ve watched this shit go down for how long? Watching as your boyfriend flirted with other women.

Putting the backpack straps over your shoulders you walk out of the bar doors and into the alleyway.No words were exchanged with anyone when you left. They only saw you leave. No explanation. They didn’t even know where you were going. Which concerned them. Were you leaving them? Everyone seemed confused and interested at the drama that followed there new leader and his probably ex-girlfriend.

~~~

Shigaraki sat at his desk in his room. Lights off as the darkness consumed most of the room where his computer screen light couldn’t reach. His fingers tapping on the keys in furious manners as he watched closely, trying to stay alive.

“And here I am thinking I’m an asshole.” Shigaraki jumped causing his character to die. He turned to the burnt male, glaring at him with all his might.

“You are.” Shigaraki growled.

“At least I’m not the type of guy that cheats.” Dabi gave Shigaraki a deadpanned look.

“What the hell do you mean ashtray?”

“Oh please hand man, everyone knows your fucking that chick that keeps flirting with you.” Dabi sends Shigaraki a glare. Did he not see that you were hurting? Dabi was always protective since he saw you as a little sister.

“The hell do you mean? I haven’t been fucking anyone.”

“Thats a bunch of bullshit. You know that the girl that keeps flirting with you. That girl is probably only with you to be higher up. Unlike (y/n) who truly loves your selfish ass.” Shigaraki only rolled his eyes before turning back to his screen.

“You don’t know what you have until it’s gone Shigaraki.” Dabi turned around and went to close the door behind him.

“And said thing is slipping through your fingers.”

~~~

“Yeah Dabi I’m fine. I just had to leave for a bit. I can only take so much ya know?” You spoke into the phone. Dabi had called you asking if you were okay. In which you told him that you just needed time to yourself.

“What do you think I should do? I can’t stand watching that girl flirt with him any longer. I feel as if I truly do mean nothing to him.” You felt tears rolling down your face as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Picking yourself apart trying to find whats so wrong with you that Shigaraki can’t love you.

“Dump him?” The thought of leaving Shigaraki burned your entire being. How could you just leave? Dabi made it sound so easy. But deep down inside you knew he was right. You never wanted to admit it but facing the facts seemed easier than just slowly suffering, watching as the man you adore never any attention to you.

“You know what. I’ll give him one more chance. If he fucks it up Ill dump him, I promise Dabi. Okay? See you later, bye.” You throw your phone on the hotel bed before flopping on the bed looking up at the ceiling. Breathing softly before you hold your knees to your chest. Hugging them as the overwhelming pain of sadness drifted you to sleep.

~~~

“Hey Shigaraki, I’m back. I even brought you McDonalds!” Well more or less stole it when the employee was handing it to the customer through the drive through window. But you thought it would do some good to try and be a good girlfriend.

But as soon as you open the door you heart drops and so does the McDonalds bag. There was your boyfriend, and that girl in bed. Having sex. Tears glazed over your eyes as you slam the door shut. stomping away. You try to rub away the tears that fell from your eyes.

Fuck this, fuck Shigaraki and fuck the LOV. You don’t need them. You don’t need anybody! You can do whatever you want. You don’t need some cheating dick to tell you what to do. You can make a name for yourself! Be your own villain! Start your own organization! It will be better then the LOV could ever be!

Grabbing all your things, which wasn’t much, and shoving them all in a singular suitcase. It was heavy, but you rather be holding this than stay here.

“(Y/N) where are you going?!” Dabi asked you, watching you leave out the bar door without a word.

~~~

(One day later)

Shigaraki sat at his little desk playing some video games when his stomach growled loudly. He let out a little huff before getting up and heading to the kitchen for dinner. He wondered what it was tonight.

He walked into the kitchen only to see no one. No food on the table, nothing even started. Shigaraki scratched his neck a little irrated and went to your room only to see nothing. It was stripped dry. Like no one lived here in years.

Where was all your stuff? An unfamiliar feeling grew in Shigaraki’s stomach. What was this? Whatever this feeling was he hated it with a passion.

Scratching his neck with more vigor this time. Where were you?

“Dabi have you seen-” Dabi’s fist had connected to Shigaraki’s face, knocking off father.

“Are you fucking serious you asshole? Who knew that you of all people would be a cheater.” Dabi growled at Shigaraki who in return punched him back. There were fists were flying as each other tied to get a winning hit on the other one.

“SHIGARAKI AND DABI! STOP IT IMMEDIATELY!” Kurogiri yelled at them as he teleported both men into there rooms. Dabi could be heard screaming at Shigaraki from his room and Shigaraki screaming at Dabi from his.

~~~

One week later

You laid down in the alleyway you back against a brick wall as the rain from that night soaked you. Your hair sticking to your face. Well at least this was some form of a shower right? Sighing you put your drenched hood up and hide your face into your knees crying as you hit rock bottom.

To say it was cold was an understatement. It was fucking freezing! The cold wind combined by the rain made it feel like you were going to freeze to death. Well at least if you freeze to death you would never see his stupid face ever again-

“What happened to you? Why are you in the streets?” A voice called out to you. Sniffling you look up and see a man with auburn hair looking down at you.

“I...my boyfriend of 2 years cheated on me for another girl...” You say as the pain was obvious in your voice.

“Such a shame, you seem as the kind to do anything for their lover.”

“Yeah i guess.”

“Well may i ask if your one for revenge?” His question made you arch an eyebrow as you look at him.

“Well at times yeah.”

“I’ll make you a deal, work for me and you’ll never be lonely again. We’ll think of a revenge plan for your lover, but that is if you work for me.” You looked up at the man and saw 2 more emerge from the darkness. You sat on the ground thinking for a bit before slowly getting up and nodding your head.

“Good, the names Overhaul. I’ll be your boss from now on.”

To be continued?....

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki x reader #mha tomura #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha angst #tomura shiragaki #TOMURA #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x y/n #Shigaraki #tomura shigaraki angst

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blazedgraysons · 4 years ago

Text

Busy Boy

You and Grayson are FWB, but it’s hard when he’s with another girl.

A/N: I’m not saying this is because Grayson has had five girlfriends in a month, but that’s also not not what i’m saying. also listen to busy boy by chloexhalle if you want to hear the song this was inspired by.

Word Count : 1.3K

Warnings: Shitty smut, grayson’s kind of an asshole in this but you know what that’s fine, also this wasn’t proofed.

“i tell you what you want to hear all the time

just because you’re so damn fine.”

are you up?

Like clockwork you think. You unlock your phone to respond, noticing it’s only 9 o’clock. It’s a little early for Grayson to start his usual games since he typically waits until after midnight. Before you even move your thumbs to type, another message comes through.

do you want to come over?

You bite your lip at this. Grayson had been very silent recently, trading your presence for some Instagram influencer with thousands of followers. It wasn’t unlike him to stop calling in order to focus on whichever soulmate he found for the week. But no matter how many times he tells you this is the last time, he somehow always finds his way back to you.

cum over pls.

i need u

His texts are coming in faster, a tell-tale sign he’s started jerking himself off, and you can’t help clenching your thighs at the image that comes to your head. Ignoring all the warning sounds blaring in your head, you grab your keys and head for the door.

“Where are you going?” Your roommates sitting on the couch, glaring at you like you’re making a fatal mistake. (which to be fair, you probably are.)

“Just out. Need some fresh air.” You shrug casually, lying straight through your teeth.

Your roommate pauses and glares at you even more before responding, “You’re going to go see Grayson, aren’t you?”

You don’t respond to that, focusing on lacing up your sneakers instead.

“I thought you said that last time was going to be the last time. That you were done with him?” She questions, “Please don’t tell me you actually caught feelings for him.”

“No, it’s just,” You pause, searching for the right word “complicated.”

She snorts at that before focusing back on the t.v. Your phone lights up when she decides to speak up again.

“You know he probably sent the same text to like twenty other girls, right?” She asks condescendingly.

“Let’s hope I beat them there then.” Looking down at your phone, you see it’s a text from Grayson. You don’t even bother opening before sending three simple letters.

omw

You break about 15 traffic laws on the drive to his house, arriving at record speed. And yet, it was all worth it when you walk into his room.

“Took you long enough.”

Your mouth instantly starts to water. He’s already naked, stretched out casually amongst his bed. Like you suspected, he’s begun. One hand is casually wrapped around his dick, loosely jerking off. The other is behind his head, causing his biceps to flex naturally in a way that makes your head swim. Everything about Grayson radiates arrogance right down to his smug smirk at how he's rendered you speechless.

Choosing to ignore his snide comment, you walk over to him while stripping. Forgoing any teasing or foreplay, you immediately take his dick into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks instantly. It had been a while, you justify.

"Fuck-" he lets out a guttural moan, eyes glazed over as he watches you lean back from his dick and slowly start suckling the tip. You gradually stop sucking and drizzle spit on his dick, mixing precum and saliva to get his cock sloppy enough to jerk off. You kiss both of his inner thighs before he finally speaks again.

"Suck it, Y/N. Please." His voice cracks.

He sounds wrecked already, and you've barely done anything. You smile prettily at him. You dip your head further and further until his dick is grazing the back of your throat. As you go back up, you twist your hand to follow your mouth up to the tip before hollowing your cheeks and dipping your head again.

"Fuck. I missed your mouth." He groans, hands going up to grab your hair into a loose ponytail. You try to not let his words affect you, but you can't help but think about whatever girl had been in the same position as you. Whichever girl had sucked his dick last and hear the exact same thing. A sense of jealousy slides over you, and you start sucking faster, moaning softly.

He moans at the feeling of the vibrations and leans his head back onto his pillow. You take him further and further until at his base, drooling as you deepthroat him. He holds your head down, only letting go when tears start to form in your eyes. You take a few breaths before going down to kiss and suck on one of his balls, the other hand reaching down to touch your clit.

"Fuck, you're so good to me. The only one who can suck me off like this" He moans, music to your ears. You whimper softly around his balls before going back to his dick. His moans start to get louder and needier, a sign he's close to finishing before he's yanking you off his dick altogether. He pants a few, trying to regain his composure as you stare at him with a brow arched.

"Don't want to come just yet." He grits out as something shiny and reflective catches your eyes.

"That's new," you think to yourself. You can't help the crude jealous feeling that comes back when you notice his new tooth gem. You'd known about it, having already seen the pictures of her and what's-her-face on Instagram. But seeing it in person just hit you differently. Before you could think too long, Grayson, as if sensing something was wrong, grabs your neck bringing you down to his level until your nose to nose. His hazel eyes scan your face slowly before bringing you in for a deep kiss, tongue slowly entering your mouth. You move to straddle him, lining up his dick to your center. As you slowly sink down, he breaks away from you to moan loudly, eyes shutting instantaneously.

You moan, adjusting yourself to the sudden fullness before slowly rising up and down to bounce on his dick. Grayson watches for a few moments as your tits bounce up and down, before sitting up to take your right nipple into his mouth. You whine, clenching purposefully around his dick as you speed up. He lets go of your tit, moaning and reaching down to play with your clit.

"Fuck, you ride my dick so good." He says breathlessly. Grayson can't help but realize how wrecked you look. Hair tangled, makeup smudged from taking his dick so well, and eyes rolling back in your head. It makes him dizzy, and he can't help but close his eyes to stop from cumming right there.

"Cum for me." You beg raspily, throat already hurting from sucking his dick.

"You first." He smirks, reaching down to play with your clit again. He plants his feet down and starts thrusting into you, game over then and there. Your moans begin to pick up in pitch and frequency, and before you know it, you're cumming all over his dick.

"Fuck, Grayson," You whine, squeezing your eyes shut as he continues to jackhammer into you, not stopping for a second. He pulls you down to sloppily kiss you before feeling his own orgasm approaching. "Please cum for me. Want to feel it in me."

That does it for him, groaning as he cums straight into her. He slows down, stopping completely when he feels his orgasm die down. You both are silent for a second, processing what happened before you move to leave.

"I missed you, Y/N." He places a hand on your hip to stop you. You look down at him as he stares up at you, hoping to convince you to stay.

"I know, but you seemed busy." You sigh. He only looks at you before responding.

"I know, it was just family stuff." He stumbles through, lying straight through his teeth. You choose to ignore his lie and not to tell him that someone had sent you pictures of him and what's-her-face leaving some random party.

"Please stay. I know you don't like to, but just tonight, please." He begs.

And when you get a screenshot from your roommate about another girl getting a "you up?" text, you choose to ignore that too.

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan x reader smut #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan x y/n #dolan twins #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins fic #dolan twins blurb #dolan twin smut #busy boy #blazedwritings

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mummybear · 5 years ago

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Forbidden Fantasy Part 1 Of 2

Part Two

Words: 3835

Warnings: Sister!cest, Flashback, Smut, Swearing, Choking, Rough Sex, Incest, Dirty Talk, Finger Fucking. Biting. Think That’s it.

Characters: Dean Winchester Y/N Winchester, Sam Winchester And Bobby Singer

Pairing: Dean x Sister!Reader

Summary: You are Sam and Dean Winchester’s half sister, after spending some time with your brother’s on a wendigo hunt seeing Dean in his element leaves you with some complicated feelings.

A/N: So, this is my first ever sister!cest fic! I really hope you guys like this, there will be a part two if you are interested in being tagged let me know :)! I really loved writing it, it’s completely filthy as like most of the stuff I write ;) A massive thank you as always to my beta Bee @negans-lucille-tblr for all of her help and support and for convincing me to post this :P Please let me know what you think!

Ko-fi - If you wish to support me, please consider doing so at my ko-fi Page :)

You try to pull your sleeping bag up higher around your shoulders, but you can still feel the cold seeping through the gaping hole in the side. You still had no idea how it had happened. It had been completely fine when you’d checked your supplies earlier and yet, even with Sam and Dean either side of you all you can feel is the cold. Dean shifts closer and you lean back into him, feeling his warm breath against your ear which sends a shiver up your spine. You hear the tell tale signs of a zipper being undone, and you swallow hard when you feel a strong arm wrap around your stomach, strong fingers pushing just under your t-shirt. His fingers are so warm against your cold skin that you can’t help but sigh happily at the feeling.

You know it’s wrong, but it feels so good. You’d been trying to ignore the way you’d started to feel about him for the last few months. All of the secretive looks in Dean’s direction which you hoped had gone unnoticed, you’d tried to pretend you hadn’t seen every time he’d caught you. But there was no ignoring the way that he would smirk at you, he always made sure that he chose times that Sam wasn’t around to make you squirm, every rude or suggestive remark, or suggestive joke. He damn well knew what he was doing and just how to do it.

Today it had only gotten so much worse after seeing him kill that wendigo with the look in his eyes; the pure anger and hatred as the blood splattered all over his face and body. You hated to admit just how sexy and strong he looked, you couldn’t help wondering what was wrong with you. All you could think about was his hands all over you, leaving his fingerprints on your skin.

“You’re freezin’ sweetheart,” he tuts, unzipping his own sleeping bag. “Got a bit of a rip there, you wanna share tonight? Doubt it’s gettin’ any warmer.”

His voice is like liquid fire that burns across your skin, like everything you know you shouldn’t want but he’s everything you need.

“O-Okay,” you mutter quietly, feeling your nerves getting the better of you. You shift out of your sleeping bag a little awkwardly, careful not to wake Sam as you climb in alongside Dean.

“Mmm, much better.” Dean purrs against your skin as he does up the zip on his sleeping bag once more. You stiffen against Dean when Sam moves in his sleep, rolling over so he’s facing the two of you. You’re practically crushed against the older Winchester’s chest when his fingers dance along the waistband of your loose fitting sleep shorts.

“I could see you watching me today sweetheart, you looked even more worked up than the other times that i’ve caught you.” He smirks against your thin t-shirt just above your shoulder blade.

You stiffen in his grip as his fingers push just inside your shorts and panties, his words catching you off guard, clearly you hadn’t been as careful as you’d thought.

“Dean what’re you doing?” You ask quietly, voice shaking slightly as you force down the moan that was trying to slip past your lips.

“You only gotta say if you want it to stop. But I don’t think you do want it to stop, do you sweetheart?” Dean chuckles quietly, you bite down on your bottom lip feeling two of his thick fingers move through your slick.

“What about Sam?” You ask just as quietly, gasping a little when he slowly eases those two thick digits inside you. “What if he wakes up and sees us? He’s gonna kill us for this,” you breathe out, voice shaking with the effort of holding back yet another desperate moan.

“Guess you better shut that pretty little mouth then sweetheart. Unless you want Sammy to know just how much this little pussy is dripping for me,” Dean growls behind you, his free hand pushing up inside your t-shirt as he roughly cups your bare breast, and you can feel his hardened length pressing into your ass.

A Week Earlier

That night you had stormed out of your house, after yet another argument with your mother. You wanted to know about your dad, about the other half of your family. Once again she had point blank refused to tell you anything. So you’d left, in search of the only other person you knew of, who knew your father, the man that you had called your uncle for years.

You walked through the salvage yard, which was full of fond memories. You had helped Bobby on a few cars while your mom had worked late back in the day. You knocked on the door, your palms sweating, in hopes that your mother hadn’t realised you’d left yet and warned Bobby that you might be coming. You were a little distracted until you heard his voice.

“Kid what’re you doin’ here?” Bobby questioned with a frown. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder and shrugged.

“What? I can’t just come and see my favourite uncle now?” You asked with a wide grin when he stepped out onto the steps.

He chuckled and pulled you into a hug, “does your mom know you’re here?”

You sighed deeply and shook your head, “I just needed a break from her and thought I’d stop by.” You smiled as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you inside with him.

“Make yourself at home, I just need to work on a car out back. Wanna come give me a hand when you're settled?”

“Yeah sure, that sounds great,” you grinned and headed into the living room, while Bobby had left you alone. You already knew that he wouldn’t tell you about your father, where he was or what he did for a living, not even his name, you’d overheard Bobby promising your mother years ago that he wouldn’t talk. Luckily you already knew your father’s name, from your years of spying. You waited until you heard the back door close and you’d quickly headed over to his desk.

You felt bad for lying to him, but at the same time you needed this information, you’d waited your entire life for it and you were done waiting. You knew where Bobby kept his address book and luckily the old man was a creature of habit because you found it and located the name you’d been searching for. You pulled out your phone and quickly typed in your father's number and saved it, making sure you put the book back where you had found it.

You felt your adrenaline rushing in your system and you knew you needed to excuse yourself without making him suspicious.

“How’re you getting on out here?” you asked as you leaned against the car beside the one that he’d been working on.

“Not sure you wanna know, this hunk of junk is only fit for scrap,” he grumbled, as he tossed away a part from the car. You couldn’t help but laugh fondly at his reaction.

You paused, what you had been about to say had been stuck on your tongue as a sleek black car rolled to a stop in front of you and Bobby. You didn’t miss the look of worry that had crossed the older man’s face, but you were more confused when two tall, handsome guys stepped out of the car and made their way over to the two of you. You couldn’t help but eye them appreciatively, both were incredibly handsome in their own ways. You shifted awkwardly under their gazes, even more so when the shorter one threw you a panty dropping wink.

“Sam, Dean. What do you boys need now?” Bobby sighed, as he walked over to them and nodded towards his house. You were even more confused when Bobby didn’t introduce you, but you followed along behind them regardless.

You leaned against the kitchen side once you were all in the house and watched with rapt attention as nobody said a word.

“Who are you two?” You asked confused, realising that you’d never seen them before.

The shorter one stuck out his hand and you gently shook it.

“Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam-” He nodded toward the taller guy who was sitting at the table with Bobby and you froze where you stood, with your small hand grasped in the warmth of his. You had noticed the way that Bobby stiffend where he sat when he saw the way you looked between the two guys.

“W-Winchester?” You asked around the lump which had formed in your throat, just barely managing to get your words out.

“Um yeah, why?” Dean asked, he wore a similar expression to everyone else in the room.

“Who’s your dad?” You just about managed to spit out.

“John Winchester. Why?” Sam questioned, both brothers seemed immediately on high alert looking like they were about to run.

You had looked between the two and felt your heart as it hammered in your chest before you looked back at Bobby.

“Are they...?” You couldn’t seem to say the words out loud, but Bobby seemed to catch on.

“Yeah kid, they are. I’m sorry, I shoulda told you sooner.” There was a pause; you felt like your heart was about to explode in your chest and Bobby sighed, seeing the look on the boy's faces.

“Sam and Dean. Meet Y/N. She’s your sister.”

Present Day

You whimper pathetically, doing your best to keep your voice down when Dean starts to slowly thrust his fingers inside you and just as slowly he pulls them out, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He chuckles deep in his chest and it vibrates against your back when you lean back into him further, you start to roll your hips down into his fingers. His rock hard length presses into your ass harder with every subtle roll of your hips, until he pulls his hand free from your t-shirt and roughly grips your hip, stopping your movements.

A shiver rolls through your body when his plump lips press against your ear, and his warm breath ghosts over your cheek. He nips at your ear lobe, and all you can do is let out a tiny moan of his name.

“Look at you, so fuckin’ desperate to come all over your big brother’s fingers. I bet you’d let me fuck your tight little pussy while Sam watched, wouldn’t you?” He practically growls, finally allowing his fingers to speed up. You can hear how wet you are every time his fingers roughly move back inside you.

“Fuck Dean, please. We shouldn’t be doing this, it’s so fucked up. We’re family.” You manage to whine out, slapping a hand over your mouth when Sam shifts in his sleep. You don’t want to admit that Dean’s words are affecting you but every dirty word only brings you closer to the edge.

“You want me to stop then, sis?” Dean asks doubtfully and you can hear the slight laughter in his voice. The way he says that has your pussy fluttering, it’s so fucking wrong, but God does it feel good. He curls his fingers inside you, stroking back forth over the spot inside you that makes you see stars. You gasp, clinging to his wrist, feeling the way the muscles tense and relax quickly the faster his fingers move.

“No, don’t stop.” You whimper, feeling the shame heating your cheeks as you blush hard, but your orgasm is right in sight and you need it so bad, and he feels so good.

“No, of course you don’t.” He chuckles as his thumb starts to move over your clit. Your walls clench around him, you can’t help but moan behind your hand. “I bet you want it bad don’t you? Bet you’ve been thinking about your big brother fucking you nice and hard with my big cock, while you fuck yourself with your fingers, wishing it was me.” His voice and his words are hitting nerve after nerve. He’s right, you’d come on your fingers and your toys so many times screaming out for your eldest brother.

“Gonna stretch this tight little pussy out baby, you won’t want anyone except your big brother. Ain’t nobody good enough for you anyway, you’re mine.”

You throw your head back on his shoulder as another wave of pleasure surges through your body, dropping your hand from your mouth, you turn your head when his lips press against your cheek. You finally lock eyes with him, the green of them just barely visible, almost swallowed by the pupils. The tip of his nose brushes over yours and you can feel his breath against your lips.

“I’m so close Dean, please,” you beg desperately, feeling his hips beginning to rut against your ass.

Dean’s lips crush against yours, and he swallows the needy moan of his name when his fingers apply more pressure to your throbbing clit. Before you know what’s happening your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. Dean keeps you held close, helping you to ride out your pleasure until your body is practically vibrating in his arms from it.

Your lungs are burning by the time he pulls back from your lips. Dean gently pulls his fingers out and you whimper at the loss, your pussy still throbbing from your orgasm.

“So pretty when you come for me, little sister,” Dean groans, slipping his fingers between his lips and moaning louder than he should’ve. You snap your head around and watch as Sam turns again, grumbling something under his breath.

“Dean, please you gotta keep quiet, Sam’s gonna hear us.”

There’s a pop as Dean pulls his fingers from his lips, and he chuckles, his fingers tugging at your shorts. “Take these off, sweetheart. I’ll be as loud as I want, we both know you’d love it if Sammy woke up. How about I let him watch while I ruin our little sister? You’d like that, huh?” Dean practically growls against your neck.

You wiggle out of your clothes the best you can, your heart thudding in your chest as the reality starts to set in. Are you really about to fuck your biggest brother? He’s so fucking sexy, full of power and you’re so far past caring, you just want him to own you. He’s getting off on how wrong this is just as much as you are and as fucked up as it is, you don’t care if Sam wakes up and sees Dean fucking you. You feel Dean shift behind you as he pulls down his boxers.

“I fucking love your voice,” you whimper as he hooks the back of your knee into the crook of his elbow, spreading your legs open a little wider, it’s a bit of a stretch with the sleeping bag, but it works. He’s teasing you, with every roll of his hips and roughened grip of his hands, but you get an idea of how you can hopefully get your own way.

“I wanted you to fuck me that first day Dean, even after I found out who you were. I didn’t care.”

The head of Deans cock nudges at your entrance and you clamp a hand over your mouth, stopping the noise that’s about to slip past your lips.

“Of course you didn’t, sweetheart,” Dean groans, finally starting to enter you slowly, the burning stretch of your pussy around his thickness makes your eyes roll back, “you just wanted to be my dirty little cock slut, didn’t you? So tight and fuckin’ wet.” Dean growls against the back of your neck when he finally bottoms out.

Dean unzips the sleeping bag, pulling your leg up just a little higher on his elbow and you can feel your pussy clamping around his cock all over again. Gasping you nod, feeling his fingers tight around your thigh.

“Yeah I did, just for you, Dean.” You whine when he pulls his hips back almost all of the way, there’s a pause and you can feel the tip of his cock pulse inside you.

He roughly snaps his hips forward, causing your hand to tighten over your mouth, only just managing to muffle your scream enough. His deep chuckle vibrates against your shoulder where his throat is pressed, his lips press against your ear and you wait on baited breath for him to speak. Your hand falls away from your mouth when his free hand wraps around your throat and you grip his wrist when he starts to thrust into you, deep and slow.

“See that sweetheart, fuckin’ made for me. You’re gonna be walking around tomorrow full of your big brother’s come.” Just the idea of it, paired with his deep voice sends a shiver up your spine.

“Fuck Dean, please I need more. Faster please,” you practically croak when his fingers tighten around your throat.

“Look at you begging for your brother’s cock. Fuck sweetheart, you really are a desperate little whore ain’t you?”

His voice is so deep and rough, you allow yourself to get lost in it, every degrading word only sends more arousal flooding between your legs.

“I love being a whore for my big brother’s cock.” You whine rolling your hips down onto him harder. Dean growls behind you, teeth sinking into your shoulder, hand squeezing around your throat tighter as his hips start to snap against your ass, “God, f-fuck. Dean, gonna come,” you croak out the best you can under his grip. He’s fucking into your dripping hole with such force and speed you feel like every thrust punches the air from your lungs.

“There it is,” Dean chuckles hotly against your ear, releasing your throat from his grip, you suck in a breath of air when he starts roughly rubbing your clit in fast circles. His voice is much quieter this time when he speaks.

“Good girl, you gonna come all over my cock? You know Sammy is awake right? He can hear you moaning like a bitch in heat for me.”

That’s all it takes for your entire body to cease up, as Dean forces a second orgasm from you. Every pulse of your orgasm sends shivers throughout your entire body, but he barely gives you time to recover before he rolls you onto your back. Dean roughly pushes the sleeping bag down your bodies and you look up at him, flushed freckled cheeks and dark eyes and plump pink lips from where he had been biting at them.

You’re so far past caring who hears you or sees you and Dean’s words about Sam watching still echo around your mind. Surely you would know though, right?

You aren’t given much time to think about it, because before you know it, Dean’s pressing your legs back against your chest, the rough grip of his fingers digging into your thighs as he spreads them a little wider.

“Fuck, your tight cunt was made for my cock, little sister,” Dean growls as his cock effortlessly slides back inside you.

“So fucking deep,” you gasp, locking eyes with Dean as he smirks down at you. His thrusts are slow and deep and your pussy clamps down around his cock with every thrust. You wrap your arms around Dean’s neck, dragging your nails over his back as soon as he lowers over you enough, his forehead rests against yours, breath hot against your lips. “I-I can’t Dean,” you gasp trying to squirm away from him, the sensitivity becoming a little too much and you swear your entire body is on fire.

Dean crushes his lips against yours, changing the angle of his hips and you try to arch your back beneath him, no doubt leaving red marks all over his back from the way you’re clinging to him. Your lungs are burning when he finally releases your lips, your head rolls to the side as Dean buries his face in your neck, sucking purple marks into your skin.

You can feel yet another orgasm approaching and squeeze your eyes shut with the intensity of it, your entire body feels like it’s on fire. Dean’s lips move back to your ear, breathing hot and ragged, “fuck i’m close baby girl, I know you’ve got one more for me.”

Your eyes snap open when you hear a second groan and you lock eyes with Sam, his eyes are darker than usual, teeth digging into his bottom lip. You glance down, clearly seeing his hand moving beneath the sleeping bag. Your muscles clamp down harder around Dean’s cock and you all but scream his name as your release hits you.

“Nice of you to join us, little brother,” Dean groans as the pulses of your orgasm make your pussy repeatedly flutter around his cock. He turns his attention to you as your eyes just barely flutter open, and your legs shake against him. You turn your head back to fully focus on your oldest brother.

“You want it sweetheart? Want your big brother’s come inside your tight little cunt?” Dean growls down at you, sweat coating both of your bodies now.

“Yes, please Dean,” you moan out, fluttering your eye lashes up at him as innocently as you can manage while your brother is fucking you.

Just another three powerful thrusts of Dean’s hips has him coming hard, groaning your name against your neck. There’s a moment of silence in the tent, only the sounds of all of you breathing heavily. Dean pushes up on his arms and you whimper as he gently eases his cock free and rolls onto his back.

“Fuck that was hot,” Sam chuckles from nowhere and you turn to look at him as Dean’s arm wraps around your stomach, fingers gently tracing against your skin.

“Such a fucking perv, Sammy. Take it you enjoyed the show?” Dean laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Well I guess my invite got lost, huh baby sister?” Sam asks, locking eyes with you once more.

You know you’re blushing hard, you can feel the heat in your cheeks but the way he’s looking at you is so similar to the way Dean had been watching you the last few days.

“It wasn’t really planned.” You try and defend the situation, not really sure why.

“Guess you need to make it up to him really soon, sweetheart. Would you like that? You wanna fuck Sammy too?” Dean asks huskily, lips pressed against your ear. You swallow hard, your throat really dry when you realise you really do want that. “Of course you do baby, such a little whore for your big brothers’ cocks.”

You clamp your thighs together hearing Dean’s words, watching the smirk pulling at Sam’s lips when you lick your own. You feel a surge of confidence rush through you. “I guess it’s only fair.”

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cicada-bones · 4 years ago

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The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 3: Oath-Breaker

Sorry for taking so much longer than I thought I would! But I hope it was worth the wait! Please let me know what you think- your comments are seriously what keeps me going. love you all sm ❤︎

word count: 4108

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

It was fresh, and completely unmistakable. Within the past few hours, Lorcan Salvaterre had passed by Mistward, heading for the sea.

Rowan immediately swooped low, following the scent to where it meandered over the forest floor, his heart pounding in his chest. The trail skirted around the edge of Mistward’s perimeter, following a path that was just out of their sightline, but close enough that in the morning, the scouts would find it immediately.

It almost felt like a message.

Rowan shifted in mid-air, landing hard on his heels and already drawing the wind towards him from all directions, searching for anything, any whisper of a dark form, flitting between the oaks, quick as a shadow –

But there was nothing. Only the memory.

Rowan began to run, following the trail westward. Even though Lorcan had passed through these trees barely a few hours ago, the wind couldn’t sense him. He was already gone, miles and miles ahead. Out of the reach of Rowan’s wind.

As the trail solidified before him, Rowan’s stride lengthened, his footing becoming more sure with each step. And he longed to be able to shift again, to use the wind to propel him over the land.

He could fly so much faster than he could run, but then he risked losing the scent – a chance he could not take. So instead Rowan dug his feet into the earth, tearing through the forest mists. A predator on the hunt.

Only one thought in his head.

Why in rutting hell was Lorcan Salvaterre trying to get his attention?

···

Fenrys wasn’t there when she found out.

He was out on a run, hunting through the forests around Doranelle. Chasing down after whispers of the forest-spirits. He knew they were here: the elemental beings, as ancient as the very stones and mountains and valleys. Older than history – than time itself.

Fenrys would hear them in the night – sounds of crashing rock and tearing metal, the felling of trees when no wind blew. Still fighting their ancient wars, either uncaring or ignorant of the affairs of lesser beings. But Fenrys had never seen them, nor did he know of anyone who had.

Every now and again, he would glance a fairy or two. One of the Little Folk, going about their little-great-deeds. But it was never when he was looking for them.

It was something he and Connall used to do as young ones – charge through the forest, hunting for fairies. For the heroes of the tales their mother would tell them, over glasses of sweet fruit juice on lazy summer afternoons. Stories of battles and warriors and the hidden magic of the land. To this day, Fenrys didn’t know whether the stories were true, or if she had made them up herself.

He knew it was only purposeless distraction, and one that he would likely pay for when he returned. But he just had no idea how much.

So no, Fenrys wasn’t in the palace when Maeve found out.

But Connall was.

···

The trail was nearly a straight shot through the woods, barely deviating for trees and boulders. Lorcan was really hauling ass. And as he drew closer and closer to the coastline, and the little market town that was waiting for him there, Rowan felt his suspicions begin to grow.

It was nearing evening when Rowan finally began to hear little signs of approaching civilization – the neighing of horses, the soft thumps of an axe chopping wood. But the trail pushed on, breaching the edges of the trees, following over the cobbles through the market, out towards the end of the main street, until it came to a stop. Right at the end of the long wooden dock.

Rowan stood at the brink, right where the path met the sea. And he could feel fury coiling in his gut.

Lorcan had left. And Rowan thought he might be able to guess where his former commander was headed. But before he decided anything, before he made a plan, he needed to be absolutely sure.

Rowan turned on his heels, headed back into the village. His cloak was pulled high over his head, hiding much of his face. He let his body fall into a slump, hiding its powerful shape. Evening was coming on, and if he kept his movements sloppy and wide, he could be just another traveler, coming to wet his throat with watered-down ale.

Outside the pub, a young maid was lighting the lamps, her hair neat and apron clean. When she looked up at him, Rowan caught the glint of sharp eyes. Maybe he wouldn’t even need to go inside the tavern.

“Hello miss,” Rowan said, ever so slightly shifting his accent, letting the words fall from his mouth like marbles. “Might you be able to tell me where I could hire passage on a ship?”

Her face twisted shrewdly, and she gave him a quick once over as she straightened and said, “Depends on where you’re goin’. And how much coin you’ve got t’ spend.”

Rowan nodded, making sure to keep his clothes hidden with the cloak, knowing that an accidental glint of silver from one of his hidden blades might be enough for her to call for help from inside the tavern. And that last thing he wanted was trouble. “When was your last ship headed for Adarlan? And when will you be expecting the next one? It doesn’t have to be fast, or comfortable.”

Her expression tightened, but she answered reasonably enough. “We get a fair few ships headed to the western continent this time o’ year – the sheep’ve just been shorn and ships head that a-way bearing wool to trade for furs from the north, and steel from the south. I’m pretty sure we had a ship go through this morning.”

“And the next?” Rowan prompted, his expression schooled into neutrality.

“If you ask around the dockyards, I’m sure you might find another ship headin’ that way – once the tide comes in. And if not, then I’m sure there’ll be another come tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Rowan slipped the girl a coin. “By chance, you didn’t catch another traveler come through here today, heading the same direction – asking questions? Tall, dark hair, harsh look?”

The shrewd look fell into a scowl. “Maybe. Either way, my answer’ll cost more’n just a copper.”

Rowan slipped her another couple of coins, and she pocketed them. But her scowl didn’t soften.

“I might’ve seen your man. Came through around mid-morning, in a massive rush. Massive man, at that. Huge. Musta been six, nearly seven feet? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man that tall. And he nearly knocked me over coming in the pub to ask after passage to Rifthold. Kept his face covered though, so I couldn’t be sure.”

Rowan nodded again, but before the maid could turn to leave, he asked, “Oh – and do you happen to know a place where I could send a letter?”

“If you give it to me, I can get it to my mother and she’ll give it to the courier when he comes ‘round in the mornin’. You gonna come in for a pint?”

The maid held open the door, and Rowan followed her in, thinking it much easier to just go along with the girl, and far too wrapped up in his thoughts to come up with a polite refusal that wouldn’t leave her even more suspicious than she already was.

The tavern wasn’t bustling, but it was far from empty either. A few farmers sat at a table in the far corner, enjoying a few beers after a long day’s work, while a few younger boys, perhaps their sons, were laughing and joking across the room. There were a few other individuals – travelers like himself, or people who lived and worked in the village. But the majority of the bar was filled with sailors – teasing and joking and climbing all over each other, celebrating their last night on dry ground for many weeks to come.

Rowan headed for a quiet corner, flagging down the waitress and settling onto a creaky wooden bench. He ordered some bread and ale, which she had brought over in mere seconds, and he began to pick at it mindlessly.

There could be no doubt. Lorcan was heading for Adarlan, for Rifthold. For Aelin.

Maeve had sent him to go after Aelin. And she had ordered him to pass by Mistward, Mistward specifically, so that Rowan would be drawn into the conflict. Maybe they were planning on using him to get to Aelin, to follow him in order to find her.

The question was, why only Lorcan? Where were the twins? Gavriel? Vaughan? Would they follow Lorcan? Were they already headed for Adarlan?

Rationally, Rowan knew that Aelin was safe. That she was still somewhere in the middle of the ocean, on her way to Rifthold. But it took all of his self-control to keep himself from shifting right there, in the middle of this tavern filled with mortals, and fly out into the ocean skies to find her.

What really worried him was the idea that he would get there too late. That even if he got on a ship right at that moment, he would get to Rifthold after she had already been found, taken, overwhelmed. The idea that there were already forces there, waiting to seize her.

And no matter what, Lorcan would arrive in Rifthold hours or days before Rowan would be able to, and well before Aelin could read any letter he sent. Not that he even knew where he could send a letter. All he knew was that she used to own a hidden apartment in the slums, and that for the past six months, she had lived in a stone tower in the castle.

It seemed unlikely that she would return to either. Both were compromised, the castle being an obviously insane choice. Unless of course she had something hidden up her sleeve that she had kept from Rowan. Which felt distinctly possible. And Arobynn had to know about the apartment. She had nowhere safe to go, and Rowan had nowhere safe he could send a warning.

So the only way he would be able to tell her about Lorcan would be to go there himself. To break his oath.

Rowan knew that he could, and without much difficulty at that. But it still felt wrong – a violation of trust. If he left Wendlyn without being told to by Aelin, he would be going against her wishes. He would be taking advantage, both of the flexibility of their bond and of her trust in him.

And it definitely didn’t make things any easier that he so desperately wanted to leave in the first place. It felt like he was exploiting the opportunity to be close to her again, no matter how rationally necessary it might be. And there was a chance that she might not forgive him for it.

But no matter how much that might sting, he couldn’t live through following her requests to the letter, and Aelin dying because of it.

So, Lorcan was headed for Rifthold. And soon, Rowan would be heading there as well.

Rowan tore into the bread, newly reinvigorated. He didn’t see any reason to return to Mistward, there wasn’t anything there worth sacrificing another day for. But he did feel bad about leaving without any notice. Deserting Emrys and Malakai, and…Luca.

So as he ate, Rowan dug out a piece of paper from his pack and began to write.

Emrys,

I’m sorry. Something came up. Tell Luca to remember to practice swings off his left side just as much as his right, I don’t care if they hurt more.

When I see her, I’ll tell her you say hello.

Then he folded up the paper and sealed it, leaving it unmarked. Hopefully, even if someone – such as that suspicious maid – opened the letter to see what it said, what he wrote would be meaningless.

He spent the rest of the evening listening to the sailors’ conversation, until he heard mention of a crew headed for Rifthold. The barmaid hadn’t lied – it was a ship bearing crates of wool heading to Adarlan to trade for steel. This was their last night ashore, and they were setting sail sometime in the early morning, just before the tide shifted.

So Rowan waited a few minutes more, then left the waitress his fee, gave the maid his letter, and walked out into the lamplit village, his jaw squared and his shoulders set. Determined.

···

Fenrys returned to broken furniture. Splintered wood and broken glass. Twisted metal and shattered stone. That was the first thing he noticed.

The second thing he noticed was the silence. It stretched its fingers through the walls and corridors and archways, until it brushed through to his skin. Until it was the only touch he could feel.

Silence.

Where there should be sound.

The third thing he noticed was the bodies. Their touch was even colder than the quiet. There was no red, no black. None of the usual gory signs of death. Just nothing. An absence.

Fenrys worked his way through the wreckage, his hands empty of feeling, his heart a stone in his chest. His intestines resting somewhere near his toes.

Until he reached their rooms, and found Connall in a dark huddle across the sea of space, and he was still breathing and it felt like Fenrys could breathe again too, but then Connall spoke and sound returned to the world, “Why did he leave? Why did he leave us?” and his voice was so full of fear that Fenrys felt tears sprout from his eyes like wings.

“Who?” Fenrys asked. “Who, Con? What happened?”

But then the palace stones began to thunder, and the questions that had seemed so important only a moment ago fell from his mind on a scattered breeze.

···

Rowan flitted into a dark alleyway around the back of the tavern, and once he was sure there was no one there to see, he shifted into his hawk and flew out over the small village.

From his eavesdropping earlier, he had learned that the ship headed for Rifthold was an old galleon vessel near the edge of the docks, bearing white and yellow flags. It had a large enough cargo bay that hopefully Rowan would be able to find a place to stow away, but wasn’t so large that the journey would take even longer than it should. Which was already far, far too long for his liking.

Rowan circled high above the ship a few times, making sure that he appeared as nothing more than just another sea bird, hunting for its dinner. Although most of the crew, including the captain and first mate, appeared to be drinking away their pay on the floor of the tavern in the village, the ship wasn’t completely empty.

His winds told him that at least three men were asleep below decks, their rumbling snores echoing through the wooden beams. But a few lamps still shone, and with their light Rowan could see a few flickering shadows just beneath the upper deck that made him think not all of the sailors were yet asleep.

So Rowan would have to be extremely careful in making his approach.

He waited for long minutes for those lights to vanish, and shadows to disappear. And the second they did Rowan was sailing down among the rigging, twisting and turning around the sails and masts until he could be absolutely sure that there weren’t any watchful eyes to mark his presence.

Then Rowan was swooping down into the maze of rooms below decks, making sure to avoid the various sleeping quarters, kitchens, and officers’ cabins. Heading towards the hold at the very bottom of the ship in as straight of a path as he could.

Rowan found a dark corner behind a case of flour and barrel of barley, and then shifted back into his Fae form. Once they passed the halfway mark between Adarlan and Wendlyn, magic would stop working, and he wouldn’t be able to move between forms. He had to find a place he could hide in during the day that was large enough for his Fae body. A task far easier said than done.

A ship like this had a crew in the dozens, and quarters were cramped all to hell. Every piece of available space was used, from every corner to closet and even the toilets. Only the captain would have room to stretch his legs, and even then, it was barely by a few feet. Nothing like the space he would need in order to not attract attention.

Rowan looked over the hold once again, scanning for anything that could possibly be large enough. Then he nearly huffed a laugh when he realized exactly what he needed to do.

···

When morning came, Rowan was crammed into a wooden case lined with wool. The back panel carefully pried out and its nails removed, but then leaned carefully back into place to allow him a quick exit. And the majority of the wool was now taking a trip down the coastline.

He had spent an hour or so that night carefully removing armfuls of the fiber and tossing it overboard, using his wind to propel it from the shipyard and out to sea, leaving only just enough room for himself. It was crammed, scratchy, uncomfortable, and smelled like sheep dung, but it would do.

Now, as the ship slowly meandered its way through the reef and out into open ocean, with the occasional shouts and curses of the sailors toiling above, Rowan had nothing to do but think.

For the next month.

It might just be the longest month of his life. At least he couldn’t complain about not having enough time to plan.

Aelin certainly would have a strategy, and by the time he reached her, she would have been working away at it for nearly two weeks. And while he could only guess at her aims, he knew that when he reached her, he would do whatever he could to help her reach those goals.

The question was, should he reach her at all?

Rowan knew he needed to warn her about Lorcan, but once he was actually in Rifthold, that could be done in many ways – not just by contacting her in person. And deep in his bones, Rowan knew that Lorcan had dragged him here on purpose. That the male had wanted him to follow, to pursue. There were faster ways to travel from Doranelle to the sea than to go by Mistward.

So wouldn’t it be playing right into Lorcan’s hands to join up with Aelin? Giving him exactly what he wanted?

Lorcan wasn’t familiar enough with Aelin’s scent, nor with the city of Rifthold, to track her down by himself. He would be digging in the dark – except for the trail that Rowan would give him, as easily as handing over their lives like so much coin.

Perhaps Rowan could go to Rifthold, warn Aelin anonymously, and track down Lorcan by himself. And the faster he rid himself of his former commander, the sooner Rowan would be able to reunite with his Queen.

The pain of that future made him physically flinch.

And it wasn’t only the idea of being in the same city, or even just on the same continent, as Aelin and not being beside her. It was the thought of Lorcan, Lorcan, his commander of nearly three centuries, someone he had almost once thought of as a brother, or even a friend, Lorcan, as someone he needed to dispose of.

Someone who was his enemy.

It was a heavy, uncomfortable weight. It felt strange, and wrong, to have someone he had so trusted become such a dangerous enemy. No matter how necessary he knew it might be, Rowan couldn’t really think of killing him.

It would be like destroying a part of himself, an old part, but a necessary one.

Without Lorcan, he wouldn’t have become the person he was today, wouldn’t know the things he knew, or understand what he now did. About war and sacrifice and leadership and teaching.

Lorcan had been a pillar in his life when he needed one. And while Rowan hadn’t loved him, he had respected him.

And now they were enemies.

Rowan scowled, the crate somehow becoming even more uncomfortable.

What he did know was how Lorcan worked, how he operated. If Rowan did decided to reunite with Aelin, then he would have to keep his distance. Because Lorcan was expert at finding pressure points, and using them to his advantage.

Lorcan already knew that Aelin had turned Rowan away from Maeve, knew that Rowan had chosen her over his oath, over his life.

Idiot. He was such an idiot when it came to her.

If Lorcan found out that there was anything more, that there were other, deeper feelings –

No, Rowan could keep his distance. He could keep those thoughts under control because he had to. Not only because they did no good, but because they might get Aelin killed. Or worse, captured and taken back to Maeve.

But Rowan knew that he wouldn’t be able to deal with Lorcan without her – that he wouldn’t be able to return to Rifthold without reuniting with her. No matter how much easier it might be to keep her safe if he stayed away.

The only thing that was keeping him sane was the thought that at the end of this journey through hell, stuffed in this tiny rutting box that smelled like dung, unable to lay down properly for weeks, was an image of Aelin’s face. Even if she wasn’t happy to see him, even if she didn’t forgive him breaking his oath.

For the first time in weeks, he was heading towards her, instead of away.

So Rowan curled up and turned on his side, and tried to get some sleep, as the shouts of the sailors above him faded into the rising dawn.

···

Across Wendlyn, Emrys was stirring a large pot of rabbit stew, listening to the potatoes crackling as they fried on the stove. It was a lot of work, feeding this many people each and every day. But Emrys loved it, caring for this large family of his. Making sure they were all fed. Taking in strays.

Aelin Galathynius had been such a stray, and he couldn’t say that he didn’t miss her. But he knew that she was where she was meant to be, doing what she was meant to do. No matter what that prince said, or how much he tried to hide, Emrys knew that Aelin had survived her encounter with Maeve, that they both had escaped. Together. And now she’d moved on to other – perhaps even greater – foes.

Even when she was all the way across the ocean Emrys was worried about her.

The old male just sighed, then shuffled over to the counter to begin chopping scallions to add to the stew.

But before he could start, he was interrupted by the afternoon courier, bearing a letter for him – of all people.

Emrys wiped his hands off on his apron, and took the letter from the boy’s fingers. It was unmarked, but the paper was old and worn. As if it had lived in someone’s saddlebags for some time.

Emrys ripped it open, then read through it. Unable to keep a smile off his face.

That scoundrel.

He began to untie his apron, then headed out of the kitchen to go find Luca. Emrys couldn’t really find it in himself to be disappointed in the prince, even if he had abandoned them. Had left Luca with his grief and his guilt.

The boy had finally told him and Malakai about what had happened, and they had talked and cried together into the wee hours of the morning. Even so, Emrys had really hoped that Rowan might be there to help Luca through that grief. He knew that Luca had too.

But it was not to be. Perhaps they might see each other again, in years to come. Perhaps Rowan might even be their king one day.

Emrys almost wanted to laugh. He could already see the scowl that would twist Malakai’s face when he told him the news. Rowan, gone off to chase the future. Leaving them to tend to this little piece of the present.

When Emrys told Luca what was in the letter, the boy smiled too.

···

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mushroom-cartel--writing · 4 years ago

Text

begrudging (love-)blindness

Summary: You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru & Reader, Gojo Satoru/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc.)

Personally, I think this is hot garbage in terms of structure and pacing (it’s loosely all strung together is what I’m saying, but I just needed to get it off my chest before I wrote anything else. Yet... I guess I had fun? Yeah. I did!

There's spoilers from the manga mixed with headcanon.

I still hate spacing and formatting on Tumblr, it sucks. Please, please, please, this is for your own good, click the AO3 link, this fic is such an eyesore on this platform.

|||

There’s a tug at your chest, sending you hurtling backwards and into something hard. A wall. Tiles. Smooth.

The heavens and the earth view one another through a layer of haze of light at night.

There are thousands of people gathering, their footsteps thundering echoes in your ears. Their chatter is a constant hum in the air. It stinks of sweat.

(“The train will be arriving soon. Please stand behind the yellow line—”)

You sigh.

“Dammit, Satoru! A little warning would be nice,” you hiss to the man. You hear him whisper something back but his voice is swallowed up by the crowds and then he, too, is consumed.

You feel him wander farther away from you; not left with much choice, you follow him. And down, down, down you go.

You pause when there’s an invisible wall blocking your path of his own making. “Hey!!” you shout, starting to scream expletives at him from the top of his lungs and he doesn’t look back.

A few seconds pass. The people, these poor, clueless civilians who just want to go home for the night are like sardines in a can, their bodies pushing and shoving. For space. For air. Requiring neither, you phase through the wall and the remaining levels to catch up to him, the thoughts going through your head solely focused on figuring out why he has let you out. He wouldn’t do something like this without warning you beforehand.

Why now? What now?

You pull out from the shadowed cracks of the feeble curtain set up along the fifth floor underground, suddenly feeling a heaviness you hardly ever experience. You run a cursory swipe over his teeth; the blood in the air is fresh, there are more civilians down here than up above, more sardine-ing (their presence is fading away, the above platforms’ panicked din becomes extinguished, it’s ghastly quiet, a moment frozen in time), but no Satoru. Not physically.

He loves you, you know. (You don’t understand though… Why?)

It’s a burden, draining you of what vigour is left in your soul, barely just clinging on to this plane itself.

His love is a curse in itself, really.

"I don't want you to see me hurt," he had said often, back when you were children, oblivious to the power of those words until you got older.

What they meant.

What they did—to him and you.

Still as the wind, you stand together, hands brushing up against each other's, your fingers infected with poison where his is not; the calloused skin and scars shared between you weaving a tale for the ages that will never be told.

You’re both nineteen at heart but certainly not in spirit.

You lean against him, completely unseen, waiting for him to flick his finger back.

Waiting for him to obliterate the first person he thought he could trust outside.

He doesn’t. You disappear for another time, expectant.

His love is a burden and you're not sure where you would be without it.

If he hadn't looked your way, would you be the same person you are today?

It's frightening, these thoughts of yours, but he usually chases them off when he senses them bubbling to the surface. (You want him to be annoyed.) A casual grin and stance, a flick of his wrist, a rush of wind by your side, then the phantom pressure is gone, yes, gone, however—it's never banished completely. It never can be.

You don't remember the colour of his eyes but there's a memory of you claiming they looked like marbles, buried somewhere (somehow), in the back of your mind. Like the marbles you'd smash glass bottles to obtain, their fizzy contents only drained seconds beforehand; stubby, sticky, small fingers sorting through the shards, squashing ants in the process.

Those very same fingers, now, haven't changed a bit, save for the chipped nails and whatnot duress they’ve sustained throughout his life.

You use them to push the blindfold up to his forehead, taking in the surrounding sights.

Why now? The fact that you can feel them, his fingers and everything else—that’s a bad sign. A very bad sign.

You breathe, inflating the faux lungs.

Finally, you see it. The reason why you’re walking and talking and fully corporeal.

You gulp at the living corpse, its stitches wonky and fresh. Cerebrospinal fluid spills from its face in fat droplets and lands upon the clothes of a dead man. Disgusting.

“So I was right in the end,” you say, more for yourself than anyone else. “You’re not Suguru.”

(Satoru owes you a thousand yen. You told him to burn the body immediately. Or, you know, the usual. But what’d he do instead? He went and passed it off to a third party! Man, why’d that old hag have to kick the bucket so soon… If she was still around she’d probably kick Satoru’s dumb ass for trying to be decent.)

“How are you free?” Not-Suguru asks.

The real Suguru wouldn’t ask about your appearance. He would make a comment about how the temperature has dropped and burrow into his collar. He wouldn’t question things.

The real Suguru never acknowledged you, but he knew there was something in the corner of his eye that took the image of his friend and laughed alongside them when they pulled their antics during missions.

The real Suguru is gone.

Who the hell knows where Shouko is.

Yeah. A little warning would have been nice. Real fucking nice.

There’s a cube with a dozen eyes between the two of you, the crater on the ground betrays its unassuming weight. Satoru’s muted presence, a shrunken pearl of light, emanates from the cube.

Not-Suguru follows your line of sight to it.

Giving him an answer would be a waste of your time.

You can’t, they say.

Young master, please, don’t go there, implores the servants and guards.

The elders, his grandmother especially, tell him not to enter the storehouse tucked away in the garden behind an avenue of camellia trees because that’s something they’ll discuss when he’s older.

He doesn’t listen to them, the curiosity of a three-year-old child cannot be satisfied by mere words. (“Let this be known,” the gardener says in his defense, one cold summer’s day. It is raining outside. His grandmother shoots the only person in the compound that doesn’t treat him like a blind fool with a withering glare. He does not see them again until—)

What’s in the storehouse?

A library of cursed objects? Spiritual remnants, artefacts, texts, poisons, weapons?

Maybe the mummified corpse of an ancestor whom they keep around to ward off evil?

Perhaps a curse, frozen in time forevermore?

Maybe it’s nothing and the adults are all in on some kind of elaborate hoax, he figures. Mm, yeah. Sounds about right. No one else knows about the storehouse.

It’s old and earthen. Wild plants curl the walls to one side and splotches of moss grow on the tiled roof. Where the sun hits least is pristine. Clean. He wonders if that’s where the wards are placed, out of sight, out of mind.

Oh.

Standing in the entrance of the open door with bare feet, at the threshold of the aged structure, fulfilling his desire, he learns why they wanted him to remain ignorant.

It’s a child. (A human…? This whole situation is off.) A kid his age. He can’t tell whether or not they’re older or younger. They might be a bit taller, though.

No, he wants to shout, this can’t be it! He stomps his foot. That’s cliché! Boring, boring, boring! Again, he strikes the ground. Ugh, whatever—

A sigh escapes the emaciated figure sitting in the darkness, hunched over themself against the wall of the bare storehouse.

“Ah, my f̶̥̍r̵̝͐̏i̷̳end,” they start, softly. “M̶̹̦͒y̸͍̮̋̚ f̸͉̓̋r̴͇̦̕ǐ̴̦͇e̵̫͠n̷̢͉̅̓ḍ̸̅, my very dear, old friend. You have returned.

“My e̷̳̭̿y̶͈͂e̷͔̭̎͘s̴̭̄̊, have you come to give them back? Ask for several others?

“I have waited for you, as promised. Come. Closer. Please. I do not know how long has passed since I last gazed upon your visage. Do not be afraid.

“I no longer lust for flesh as fervently as before, I will not ask of y̸͖͔̒o̵̳̍u̵͍̘̓ ą̴͕̈́n̵̫̓d̸̛̳͛ y̵̻͑̎o̵̖̥͒͌ų̴͋̐r̵̦̩̓s a sacrifice to please me.”

Their voice is garbled, the resemblance to a broken radio off-pitch jarring his reaction time, a music box opened underwater gurgling, ghosts beat to the rhythm of the blood in his ears and titter buried mysteries.

In the corner of his eyes distant stars burn, galaxies explode to life and die repeatedly, the vast cosmos is shredded apart. Universes are swallowed whole. The plane he stands upon bends to the will of the one whose gifts he uses carelessly to play the role of a deity and dictate the balance of the world.

People have said [they] reflect the very heavens.

His faith wanes.

a trio of ragtag orphans,

escapees, survivors and starved,

on the verge of being

no better than beasts,

happen upon a traveller taking respite from the winding roads.

a foreigner no doubt

they guess from the strange hued garb;

rest, everyone around these parts,

they know comes not

easy to scum, scoundrels, sinners and

deceivers alike.

mad ones, rushing to death

—without protection i must add—

oh my darling children, you are!

consume my flesh,

defend those unseeing,

purge the blight

and you shall witness

my return before long, indeed?!

They do not move and neither does he.

What he assumes to be their head tilts ever so to the side, gauging him, this fool of a boy trespassing on their domain. This part of the garden, the little boy realises too late, is theirs.

This, the storehouse and now him.

(—the gardener finds him sprawled out on his back come dusk. They help him to his feet and dust him off, the sparkle in his eyes an unusual occurrence; they ask their precious young master what happened and he points them in the direction of the doors sealed shut.

“I took a peek inside,” he lies. Children are supposed to do that, right?

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing.” The gardener knows he’s a bad liar.

“Good. Now come.” They lead him away from the path of the camellias. “Lady Mitsue has been beside herself over you, mister.”

His grandmother hasn’t. She probably knows what he has done and will instruct him to feed the council what they want to hear. My son was too soft, she asserts before and after every meeting with those windbags.

You have to do better.

And his father is dead, so only time will tell who’s right.)

He starts having weird dreams (memories?) several days later.

Trying to ignore them doesn’t work.

Every waking moment is subject to gore.

He has to resist the urge to scratch his own eyes out while he trains.

In the world beneath his eyelids, there are shadowy figures claiming it best he is blinded and locked away and fed what no other soul could hope to consume without issue. And just as they force open his jaw—every night, every time—he wakes up.

Satoru doesn’t know what to make of it. Doesn’t know what to make of you.

One day, he dreams of years of living without sunlight causing you to screw your not-eyes shut and look away upon the opening of a door into your domain. When you recover, you turn to the door, the emotion of curiosity tugging for your attention out of the myriad of beings you’ve eaten.

Standing at the threshold, ethereal, desperate and short of breath, is a young man. In his arms is a woman, his wife, you presume. They’re stark shades of white, binary stars of a celestial system long dead.

You smile, recognising them in an instant. “Ah, my old friends, children of my children’s children a dozen times over, tell me, what is it you wish for?”

“My wife and our child,” says the man, “please, I beg of you, save them!”

Oh? A healing? It’s been quite some time since that was last requested of you.

You skitter to the pair’s side and shut the door gently behind them, ushering them further in.

You click your not-tongue at the woman’s state, wondering why no one thought to come to you earlier. If they did, the price they’d have to pay would be much less than what you’re about to tell the man. Humans are such prideful creatures, Satoru knows this, but he can’t help but feel tense as you instruct the man to lay the woman down and state your cost.

First, he opens his mouth. Then it shuts. Opens. Shuts. The man regards his dear wife with something Satoru has never seen before in the eyes of those around him.

His reply?

“I accept—”

A harsh smack to the head disrupts the memory; he looks up, unsurprised to meet his grandmother’s gaze, wrinkled eyes so very much like his own piercing his soul.

“Being distracted in the middle of a fight is unbecoming of you, boy,” she says. “What seems to be the matter?”

He can’t tell her.

He stays silent.

“Satoru.” She raises her hand, fingers crossed, indicating the void’s opening. “We Gojou pride ourselves on our ability to adapt. That is why, in fact, I say my son was too soft. He could not accept that he would lose my daughter-in-law and the child she carried in her womb to common illness. He could not accept that it was impossible to cheat death. He could not accept the position he was placed in. And for that, he died and of the aforementioned two, only you lived. Do you understand?”

No. He doesn’t want to understand.

What is adaptation if they’ve yet to rid themselves of and bow down to your constant presence? Is that not their most fatal flaw?

You eat them.

One life in exchange for another; you told his father it was the only way.

You were given the corpse of his mother a hundred days after his birth by the elders.

Every Gojou after death, you grind their bones between your teeth and their flesh rots at the bottom of your belly. Their soulful essence fights for dominance against the forces of the innumerable curses the clans feeds you—the hate, the sentiment, the sheer bursts of techniques and mighty powers clashing, click, click, click—you embody and absorb the aftermath of each childish scuffle, playing the bored jailer adjudicator. Corpses, tools, objects, energy and flesh. It’s how you’ve lived for so long without light or human thought to taint you: the jujutsu world’s dirty little secret, waste disposal.

You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

He loves you for that one reason.

A means to an end, forever.

(The boy, a few days shy of his fourth birthday and inauguration, does not know what love is. He thinks he does, having read the definition in a dictionary in order to familiarise you with modern speech, but love is not a word to be thrown around lightly the way he does.)

“I do,” he lies again, this time, to himself. “I understand everything.”

His sight is black.

He pushes back against the current, against instinct telling him to relinquish control and reaches forward for the dream that he was ripped from.

Your true form towers over his mother’s prone form, dripping ichor and the fluid of loose entrails all over. His father stays seated even when you lift an arm to draw blood, the man facing you without a trace of fear.

“I accept—but on the condition that my child receives your protection.”

“My p̶̹̽r̴̽ͅo̵̠͐ť̷̬e̶̺̊c̶̻̒t̷̙͑i̵̮̓o̶̱n̷̖͂?” Do they not teach the younger generations what that entails?

“Yes. My ancestors wrote that you were a benevolent being in a past life. That you were a kind-hearted human who accidentally drank poison before being found and buried alive, condemned and reviled, forcing you to become what you are now. Does that still not hold true?” His father’s face is hopeful.

It doesn’t. But who are you to tell him that? That ‘benevolent being’ never existed in the first place. You’ve always been this.

The vivisepulture part was true, but the beginning? Debatable. Your memories of ‘being human’ are foggy; you’re not sure if they’re real or someone else’s. Satoru’s is the clearest thus far because you abide within him. And he’s young, there’s little to garner.

What other nonsense has been made truth in the time you have withdrawn from the world?

He wants to go down that rabbit hole.

You grab the cube and run, warping reality in your wake.

You are many things.

Alive, you are first; secondly a parent, a teacher and a friend; cursed thrice times over; quarter something-something or rather by this point; and last, your hollowness complements the damned hallowed.

You are Gojou Satoru but not.

His skin peels off in delicate scales from the speed you’re going.

The first and last time you puppeteer his body, Satoru invokes his father’s contract with you for the second time in his life.

Like the first occurrence, it happens by accident.

(The first occurrence is a stain on your memory.

Mitsue looked her grandson in the eye and tasked him with a futile quest, one that would decide the future headship of their clan. You personally thought such practices outdated but you held his tongue and grit his teeth, faking laughter for the audience they had.

She reminded you too much of your youngest, both in the way she cobbled herself together and how she suspended time long enough to catch a glimpse of you hunched beside him, flickering in and out of her void domain with the ease of a toddler climbing free of their crib.

Beautiful and deadly.

He nearly died.)

He is unaware of the finer details, but where his consciousness ends at getting a scalpel to head, it rouses again with him standing before the man who has the blood of Satoru’s friends on his hands and left him to bleed out undecapitated.

On a high from escaping Izanami’s clutches, he sprouts math and whatever nonsense off the top of his head and ragdolls up, down, across and through the air.

He feels like a being higher than the gods. Doesn’t mean he is, though.

He’s barely in control.

Violent swashes of red and blue fill the sky. He sees beyond his opponent rising from the earth the heavens condemning his breaching unto their space.

“Hey, stranger, did you know purple was her favourite colour?”

“Whose?”

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“You are Satoru, right?”

“Yessssss?”

“You… you’ve got a bit of…” Suguru gestures vaguely around the lower half of his face.

“Oh.” You rub the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and see it come back tinged pink. The drying drool on his sleeves is used to rub the rest of the blood away. “Thanks.”

“Have you found her?”

“Amanai? Her body?” Suguru flinches. Your gaze is drawn to the cultists clapping. “Yeah, I did. Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru says. “I feel like killing these people. Should we?”

“Why?”

“I’m still h̸͓̟͐u̴̦͗n̴͇͈̅͛g̵͔̒̕ŗ̴͕͂͘y̸͚͍͘͘.” Two wasn’t even a snack.

“I’m angry that we failed too. But we can’t do anything now, it’s out of our hands.”

Several days later finds him back at the entrance of the storehouse, none the worse for wear.

In the shadow of the building grows a lone weed.

“It’s changed.”

“Of course it has.”

“Will I end up like them?”

“Yes.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gn!reader #gender-neutral reader #gojo satoru x reader #reader insert #one-shot #originally posted on ao3 #jujutsu kaisen #this is a dumpster fire

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