#dark regions press

[yzzart]

YOU'RE RULING THE WAY THAT I MOVE... ── KENJI SATO

── summary: Kenji was insatiable, they say.

── content warnings: F!reader, 18+, nsfw, fiance!kenji, oral (f!receiving), finger marks, petnames, dirty talk, explicit words, explicit content.

── word count: 1.206!

Oh, Kenji Sato was, unconditionally, insatiable. — Perhaps, mentioned in countless reports and comments and rumors from journalists, a little voracious and avid. — Making it clear that he looked for satisfaction around him, wanting to end this thirst on the court.

Being one of the biggest, and best, baseball stars, he had the reason, and right, to cause this. — Everyone could agree, right?

But this feeling remained in his chest, covertly, off the court; of course, trying not to show it in the public eye. — There was a mixture of need and lack that only Sato could admit; poorly, dramatic.

Kenji felt hungry, needing to be close to you, causing any physical contact, wanting to enjoy every inch of your body; aspiring to press it around you. — He wants to feel, touch and delight you. — And that drove the young boy crazy.

At the same time that you drove him crazy, leaving Sato thirsty, greedy for your smell or just seeing your gaze against his, you also directed him to the light; being a guide on your troubled path. —Kenji was grateful, and, gods, as he was. — The possibly true meaning of walking through heaven and hell in one walk.

He was trapped, connected to you; always keeping, like a magnet, his strong, long arms around your waist, pressing himself against you or fitting his face into the crook of your neck, nudging his nose into the back of your neck. — Sometimes, his teeth run through your skin, a sensitive spot, marking the area and then kissing it; conveying a loving and ironic action when saying “sorry, my love”.

Also, Kenji remained, pleasantly, surrounded between your thighs and holding them, with such precision and rigidity, leaving, in the future, marks of his long fingers; unable to avoid the possessiveness that coursed through his veins. — Delighting, relishing in the taste of your pussy; keeping him even more addicted to you, being certified as a starving animal.

That mouth, so bold and sharp, that responded and argued everything that came to mind, in fact, was smeared with taste and pleasure; sucking, kissing your folds, incredibly wet and mixed with his saliva, in an unruly way. — Attacking your sensitive and pulsating clitoris, his tongue surrounding it with slow circles and tracing lines across the region. — Rarely threatening contact with his teeth.

The damned man knew how to torture you and thought it was funny, he had, unquestionably, a talent for it.

“Ken, holy shit…!” — The environment, unstable, dark and poorly lit by the small bands of light that came from the huge windows, covered by curtains, was filled with the moans and whimpers that came out of your beautiful, dirty mouth. — “Ngh!” — You choked, trying to breathe.

Kenji would like, would love, to live with his face between your thighs; he could forget about baseball, save the city from monsters, everything. — Everything to devour you.

“My little princess with that mouth…” — A pop, made by his mouth, when sucking one of your folds was exclaimed. — “…so dirty.” — Pretends false hurt along with a pout, quickly licks his lips. — "So good…"

Raising his shiny orbs of desire and lasciviousness, Kenji witnessed, or rather, enjoyed your dazed image, hazy of the purest pleasure you received, feeling in a cloud of delight. — The large t-shirt, which belonged to your fiencé, lifted up to your collarbone, showing off your perky breasts and your messy hair spread across the pillow. — A magnificent work of art, somewhat angelic, apollonian.

Your little face manifested the lost between lust and excitement, being a sight for Sato's eyes. — You looked wonderful, as always.

“You know, hmm…” — The heat of his tongue returned, moving, slowly, to your entrance, tasting, ambitious; Sato's name was begged, almost inaudible, landing in his ears. — “I would spend hours eating that pussy.” — He had already confessed to that filthy curse so many times, but that's not a complaint. — “Oh, but, you know, don’t you?” — He growled.

“Hm, hm…” — This was an attempt to state what I had heard. — “Ken, please…” — You didn’t know what, in fact, you were begging, you didn’t care about blurting out disconnected words and things; the older one raised his eyebrows, mocking you.

“Fuck, baby.” — Kenji exclaims, almost breathless, closing his eyes and tracing a line with his tongue to the small, quivering dot, focusing on it; impatiently, wanting to enjoy your orgasm. — "I know, i know." — He babbled, clicking his tongue and increasing the speed of his licks; distributing a messy, clumsy, obscene kiss to your pussy.

A scream, thin and tearful, with a melodic tone, and considered music for the player, broke free from your mouth. — Being caught off guard during the change of promptness. — Without delay, one of your hands fell on Sato's black hair, pulling it sharply. — And you swear you felt a dirty smile, then a giggle, which sent a wave of shock through you.

When you felt a hot, scorching sensation of pleasure and voluptuousness boiling in your stomach, accompanied by the impression of numbness dominating your extremely sensitive little spot, you knew you were close. — Kenji too. — Your chest burned, rose and fell, trying to regulate or catch a breath, and your back arched; whining, immorally, even more so for Ken.

Holding your thighs, feeling a mediocre courage in trying to close them, which were increasingly trembling, Kenji's hands slowly caressed them; wanting to reassure you. — The coldness of his engagement ring ran across your skin, giving you goose bumps. — From the movement made in his mouth, Ken had said something, but, covered with exultation, you was unable to understand; probably words of encouragement.

"Oh, Ken, Kenji...!" — You screamed, frantically, while miserably moving your hips against Kenji's mouth, warning him; even if there is no such need. — Understanding what was going on, a growl came out of the older man's mouth, maintaining his rhythm. — “I’m close, Ken…” — You cried, feeling tears invading your eyes.

Suddenly digging your nails into Sato's scalp, as tears, witnesses of desire, fall from your eyes, you cum in Kenji's mouth; deliciously releasing all your pleasure. — Your head resting on the pillow, your chest rising and falling under pure exhaustion. — Therefore, you continues to be devoured by your lover.

Kenji, by gently opening your thighs a little, gets drunk on your orgasm; persistently tasting, tasting and eating your pussy. — Now, unshakable and extremely high level of sensitivity. — The tongue cleaning, searching and not leaving any drop of your cum with his greed and thirst to be quenched.

You were being adored, worshiped —even ecstatically— and you appreciated it. — Sato never tired of making you feel this way.

“Please,” — As he start to pull away, Kenji lifts his head, to get a clear view of you, and the glow on his chin and mouth, caused by your cum and his saliva, sends butterflies to your stomach. . — "you're so perfect." — He murmured, stunned and swallowed dryly. — “I wanted to stay buried in your thighs, like, forever.”

Your hand, which was still between his locks, immediately messed them up; mercilessly finding his change in personality ridiculous. — Addressing a low "i love you” to him.

“Me too, love” — He took a deep breath. — “But, i’m serious.”

[chosok-amo]

CAN'T YOU HANDLE IT, BABY?

satoru gojo, suguru geto. . . you are sitting there in the living room, drowning under the tongue-tied make-out sessions before your other boyfriends walk in, happily watching the two of you while touching himself.

beware : masturbating! satoru, hand-job! suguru, unprotected sex!, thigh-humping, light blowjob, doggy style, dirty talk, praise, name-calling.

w/c : 6.3k

[☆] MASTERLIST

as you find yourself nestled on the couch, you feel the warmth of suguru's lap beneath you. the soft murmur of the television creates a gentle ambiance in the room. Your hands delicately coil around suguru's neck, forming a tender connection. with a smile gracing your face, you lean in closer to the dark-haired man, closing the distance until your lips meet in a gentle, almost imperceptible touch.

you feel suguru's warm breath on your skin as you deepen the kiss, your bodies pressed close together. with suguru, the connection intensifies as you feel his warm breath caressing your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. the kiss deepens, igniting a passionate flame between you.

your bodies meld together, pressed tightly against one another as if wanting to merge into a single entity. the world around you fades away, leaving only the electrifying sensation of each other's presence. time seems to stand still as you savor this intimate moment, lost in the intoxicating embrace of your desires.

“mmmh...” he hummed as you leaned closer to him, pulling you closer to his chest. he loved it when you leaned against him— when you pressed against him... when you were close like this. one of his hands moved from your waist to your thigh, his fingers tracing over your legs with light and teasing touches. “you're enjoying yourself, aren't you?” he said in a smug tone, his hand trailing further up. he pulls away slightly to give you a beautiful smile, still face not too out of reach.

you find yourself growing flustered as his hand moves further up your thigh, his touch sending tingles through your body. his smug tone only adds to the heat spreading across your face, but at the same time, it fuels a hunger within you. you respond with a coy smile, your voice barely above a whisper, “enjoying myself? i can hardly focus on anything else when you're touching me like this.”

you bite your lip, trying to stifle a moan that threatens to escape. his hands on your bare leg are sending you over the edge, and heat pools in your lower region. you look down at him, your gaze half-lidded and sultry. suguru's smirk widens as he notices your growing blush and the way you bite your lip to hold back a moan. the sight of you looking down at him with a sultry gaze only encourages him to move his hand even further up your thigh, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“is that so?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with a seductive mix of amusement and desire. “then maybe i should keep touching you like this, just to make sure you really can't focus on anything else but me, no?” a soft, breathy chuckle leaves from his mouth, eye your lips for a second along with brushing the tip of his nose with yours.

“please. . . don't stop,” your hands ran through the long of his raven lock, soft and comforting. suguru's words send a wave of anticipation through you as he teases and tantalizes, his touch growing more deliberate as he continues to explore your body. “i love seeing you like this,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “so responsive to my touch. It makes me want to see just how far i can push you... how much more i can make you lose yourself in the moment.”

suguru notices your flustered expression and smirks at the effect he’s having on you. the sight of you becoming more and more unraveled under his touch only adds fuel to the fire within him. his hand glides further up your leg, his fingers tracing patterns just above your inner thigh. he leans in closer, his hot breath against your ear as he whispers, “don’t hold back, i want to hear every single sound you make.”

your breath hitches as you feel his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh, his hot breath against your ear sending shivers down your spine. “mmh. . . s-suguru...” you moan faintly, your voice catching in your throat. his words have you on edge, your body aching for more of his touch. you tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, silently begging for more. “please...” you whisper, your voice quivering with need. “don't make me wait—touch me... i want you to touch me more.”

suguru's gaze locks with yours, his eyes darkened with desire. the heat between you is palpable, and it's clear that both of you are growing increasingly desperate for each other. his hand continues to wander, tracing gentle circles on your skin, never wandering close enough to where you truly want his touch. he leans in, his voice low and filled with a hint of playfulness, “are you getting impatient, sweetheart?”

you whine softly in response, your eyes pleading with him. the way he teases you, touching you everywhere but where you desperately crave his touch, is driving you crazy. “y-yes...” you admit, your voice is trembling. “i am getting impatient. i can't take much more of this teasing. i want- no, need you to touch me, suguru. please . .” begging, word by word hurriedly left your mouth the moment you mumbled on suguru's lips. your body is taut with tension, your fingers gripping the fabric of the couch as you try to keep yourself still. the anticipation is killing you.

as Suguru chuckles softly, his heart quickens with anticipation as he witnesses your undeniable longing for him and his touch. your eyes, filled with a cloud of lust and desire, are hooded, intensifying the allure between you. a warm breath escapes your lips, gently brushing against his face, further fueling the fire within.

suguru's hands embark on a map of your body, moving from your thigh to grasp a handful of your soft rear, exerting gentle pressure. your breath catches in your throat as you feel his hand grasping— touch firm yet controlled. with a tilt of his head, he leans in and playfully nibbles on your lower lip, igniting a surge of pleasure and sending a ripple of pleasure through you.

meanwhile, your free hand roams across his well-defined stomach, his abs, tracing the contours of his chiseled muscles beneath the velvety skin— feeling the warmth and firmness of his muscles beneath your touch. the tactile sensation leaves you captivated by his sculpted physique, further deepening the desire that courses through your veins.

you press yourself closer to him, your bodies now tightly pressed against one another. the desire coursing through your veins is almost overwhelming, leaving you craving more of his touch. “suguru...” you whisper, your voice laced with need. “please. . . keep- keep touching me like that.” a low, rumbling chuckle escapes suguru's lips, the sound sending a fresh surge of heat through your body. “you're so impatient, my sweet.”

as suguru's hands glide across your body, they venture towards your back, gently urging the fabric of your shirt to shift upwards without removing it completely, showing your bare back. with tantalizing anticipation, he reveals the beauty of your chest, his eyes feasting upon the sight. meanwhile, his lips embark on a sensual expedition, tracing a path along your neck, bestowing upon you a delicate symphony of the hot path of butterfly kisses and teasing nibbles. aach touch, light as a feather, ignites a spark of desire, leaving you yearning for more of his intoxicating presence.

“but you know i can't resist you when you ask me so nicely,” he murmurs, his voice gruff. “how could i deny you anything when you ask me so sweetly?” he mumbled against your burning skin. you shiver as suguru's hands slide along your back, shifting the fabric of your shirt and revealing your chest to him. the feel of his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of hot, teasing kisses and gentle nibbles, has your body arching into his touch, desperate for more.

your breath hitches as he murmurs in his low, rough voice, his words sending a wave of desire through you. “i just . . .“ you manage to gasp, your voice trembling, “i just want...more. i need- i need to feel you. everywhere.” suguru's lips move under until he meets with the soft flesh of your breasts. his lips each by each, sloppy and sensational intertwined with your hardened and sensitive bud, taking it openly by his mouth and meeting the warmth of his tongue.

you immediately throw your head backward out of reflex, a soft moan escaping from your pretty lips— bite them to hold back any other lewd sounds as pleasure washes over you in waves, hands gripping the head of the couch to ground yourself. hour eyes close at feeling the pleasure of his tongue, and you bite down on your bottom lip. a sigh softly escapes your lips as you feel his tongue begin to tease you. “suguru..” you softly whisper.

his tongue lightly begins circling you in a slow, teasing manner. he can feel and hear your soft and sweet sighs, it’s all music to his ears. he feels your fingers run through his hair slightly pulling on it, this only encourages him to continue. his hands grasp lightly at your thighs. his nose rubs up against you as he teases every inch of you, his hands still holding you in place. “mm-mmh . .” You feel the vibration of his hum as he does so.

your free hand moves slowly from his body, leaving a trail of electricity jolt until your palm lands on his bulge, throbbing and hardened under the black tight boxer. suguru's breath hitches as you fondle his growing erection through the fabric of his boxers. his hips jerk forward slightly, seeking more contact and pressure. je gazes at you with wide, desperate eyes, his own hands trembling as they hover near your breasts, aching to touch. “please...”

a loud moan escapes suguru's lips as he suckles on your nipple, his hands reaching up to squeeze and play with your other breast. his body trembles with need as your hand touches the bulge, making his hips thrust forward instinctively. “fuck...” your warm hand maps his erection purposely, painfully slowly, touching every vein with the end of your finger as suguru throws his head back to the couch, giving the length a light squeeze before trailing down to his balls, heavy, twitching under your touch.

suguru's breathing becomes heavier as you move down his body, his hands clenching and unclenching with anticipation. when you reach his balls, he lets out a low groan, his legs spreading wider apart to give you better access. “yess . . . just like that...” feeling your warm breath against his sensitive skin sends a shiver through suguru's body, causing him to arch off the couch slightly. “ahh, fuck...” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of your fingers teasingly circling his throbbing member.

with every passing moment, his excitement grows, his heart pounding wildly within his chest. “darling,” his voice breaks into a needy whimper, “i want more . . .” Inching closer towards you, he reaches out, tracing the outline of your jawline with his fingertips. “you're driving me crazy here...”

once his dick is free from the suffocating of his tight boxer— hard and shudders as a pre cum comes out from the tip, down to his length. you sit on one of his tight as your lips continue kissing his neck, giving him a hickey and bruised. your finger wrapped around his base, moving slowly up and down.

suguru gasps sharply when your mouth latches onto his neck, the slight sting of pain only heightens his arousal. “darling. . .” he breathes out, tilting his head to grant you easier access to mark his skin with your passionate kisses. as your fingers begin stroking along the length of his rigid cock, suguru's hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction. “ahh—yes... just like that,” he pants, his hands coming to rest on your waist, fingers digging gently into your flesh.

lost in the haze of pleasure, suguru's usually stoic demeanor melts away, replaced by a raw, desperate desire for you. “more, please... i need to feel you,” he begs softly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intense, pleading gaze. you sniggle on his jaw, giving the skin a few pecks before saying, “be patient, my love, let me touch you first.” a slight biting of his adam's apple brings out a low groan from suguru.

“patience is not my strong suit right now,” suguru admits huskily, feeling a flush spread across his cheeks at your words. despite his impatience though, he complies with your request, allowing himself to be thoroughly explored and pleasured by your talented hands. the feeling of your teeth grazing against his sensitive skin sends another jolt of pleasure coursing through him. “mmm... don't stop,” he urges between ragged breaths, feeling increasingly vulnerable yet incredibly turned on beneath your ministrations.

you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, signaling satoru's return from work. your attention is immediately diverted and you turn your head to catch a glimpse of him as he enters the living room. as he steps into view, satoru's eyes fall upon the sight of suguru with you on his lap, your shirt slightly askew, exposing your chest to him. satoru's expression is a mix of surprise and intrigue.

“well, well, what have we here?” satoru teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

he takes off his blindfold and the first thing his cerulean blue eyes caught was the sight of suguru geto, head throwing back to the head of the couch as a moan and groan left his glossy lips with you kissing his neck, hands going up and down on his dick. satoru takes in the sight before him, noticing the pleasure and ecstasy etched on suguru's face as you shower his neck with kisses and caresses. his expression is one of interest, mixed with a hint of playfulness.

he saunters closer to the couch, his strides slow and deliberate, his eyes flickering between the two of you. satoru leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “hey, don't mind me,” he grins, “just enjoying the show.” you smile sweetly and greet him with love to your other boyfriends before licking down to suguru's neck while your hands move faster on his throbbing dick.

watching satoru enter the room doesn't seem to faze suguru much. instead, it appears to fuel his arousal further. his back arches even more off the couch, pressing deeper into your warm body as he gazes up at the ceiling with lust-filled eyes. “ahh, fuck...” he whimpers softly when your tongue darts out once again to trace over his sensitive skin, leaving behind a trail of wetness that contrasts starkly with the heat radiating from his body.

as satoru makes himself comfortable nearby, watching you both, suguru can't help but let loose another soft moan— this time directed more at satoru than yourself— drawing your mutual lover’s attention even more firmly onto him.

“feel good, baby? can you handle it?” you whisper in his ear. “do you love it when satoru watches you getting fuck by my hands, hm?” your honey voice usually sounds calm and happy now dripping with sensuality, filthy, suguru thinks even.

a slight squeeze from your warm grip sent suguru almost into a coma, drowning in the sea of pleasure. Your hips slowly move on his bare thigh, “can you feel me, honey?” you kiss his jaw, still smiling as your eyes never leave satoru's blue irises, “can you feel my wet pussy?” your hips move, purposely smearing your wetness all over his thigh.

suguru shudders violently under the onslaught of sensations bombarding him— the expert touch of your skilled hands working his sensitive length, the searing heat of your breath against his skin, and those tantalizing words whispered into his ear. and then there’s satoru’s presence nearby, watching them with evident fascination.

“g-god,” he groans loudly, throwing his head back further as you tighten your grip on his cock. each pulse and throb of pleasure makes him squirm delightfully on your lap. “i-i can feel everything,” he confesses hoarsely, looking towards Satoru over your shoulder.

a wide grin spreads across suguru's flushed features at the thought of what they might be doing behind closed doors— a fantasy that sends another wave of arousal surging through him. “yes... oh god, yes,” suguru's hips jerk reflexively as he feels the cool air hit his slickened thigh where your wet folds had been rubbing against him mere moments ago. . . the visual of his arousal smeared against satoru's pale skin and the knowing glint in the older man's eye is enough to push suguru closer to the edge.

“ah! yes, darling... more!” suguru demands desperation lacing his voice as he writhes beneath your touch. His hands grasp at your thighs, trying to pull you impossibly closer to his straining erection. “please— shit! i'm so close already...” suguru's eyelids flutter shut as he focuses all his attention on the building pressure inside him, each stroke of your fingers coiling tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap.

you moan as you keep on humping suguru's thigh. satoru's long limb brings him over to behind the couch as he gets undressed, piece by piece— from his jacket uniform to his similar boxer like suguru's while a smirk is still visible on his lips as he looks down at you. your smile, your sweet, sweet smile greet him warmly as you look up.

“s-satoru . .” you moan his name.

“so pretty,” he mumbles as he kisses your lips.

“keep moaning my name baby, keep, keep moving,” he mumbles on your lips. his slightly cold finger pinches your chin. the sudden interruption of satoru's soft lips crashing against your own is like a match to dry tinder, sending suguru hurtling towards the climax with lightning speed. a choked cry rips itself from his throat, muscles tensing and releasing in rhythmic waves as you milk him dry.

“fuck, mmm. . .” his body trembles uncontrollably beneath your touches as orgasm overtakes every inch of his being— leaving him panting heavily and utterly spent underneath you on the couch. but even amidst the aftermath, suguru can't help but crane his neck upwards to steal surreptitious glimpses at their shared lover who'd just interrupted this intimate moment between them; fascination shimmering brightly within those hazel orbs despite how sated he appears now.

while your lips are deep between satoru's cold one, your hand moves faster. knowingly the twitching of suguru's dick around your palm and the shaking of his thigh under you. he is close to the edge.

suguru's entire world narrows down to the sensation of your deft fingers pumping his oversensitive shaft and the warmth of satoru's lips pressed insistently against yours. it's too much, too intense, and yet he craves more. with a sharp gasp, suguru's vision blurs at the edges as the telltale tingles begin racing up his spine once again. he tries to stave off the impending release, desperate to prolong this exquisite torment, but it's no use. his climax barrels towards him like a freight train, unstoppable and merciless.

“s-satoru, darling, ahh!” suguru cries out, arching his back sharply as the dam finally bursts inside him. his cock pulses erratically in your grip, spurting hot ropes of seed all over your hand and possibly even the couch cushions below. . . you retreat from the kiss to gaze at your other boyfriends. his chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath

collecting all the cum left with your two fingers, your other free pulling satoru by his neck. as if he understands what you were going to do, satoru stuck his tongue a little for you to gladly feed him with suguru cum before back to intertwine with his lips, his tongue pressing yours and giving you the sweet taste of suguru cum as a reward.

the sight of you feeding satoru straight from the source would've been hotter if suguru hadn't just come like a geyser all over your damn couch cushion— the sight enough to send suguru spiraling into an aftershock, his body convulsing weakly beneath you. but even though he's a quivering mess beneath you, he can't tear his gaze away from the spectacle, from the intimate display unfolding right before his eyes.

sweat trickles down suguru's forehead, trailing lines through the dusting of fluff scattered across his hairline— remnants of the previous night's sexcapades between him and satoru. yet amidst the chaos of sticky flesh and lustful.

his heart throbs painfully within his chest as a surge of love swells up inside him— an emotion so strong and consuming it threatens to choke him right then and there. he watches entranced as Satoru eagerly laps up every last drop you offer him— a silent affirmation of their shared desire for one another that leaves suguru feeling strangely fulfilled and complete.

“mmm... so good,” he murmurs dreamily, letting himself sink deeper into the plush cushions of the couch while he continues to watch the lovers exchange heated kisses filled with unspoken promises. even though suguru was thoroughly depleted after his powerful orgasm, a fresh wave of desire washed over him at the sight of his lovers indulging in such a lewd display. to see you feeding satoru straight from your palm like some kind of perverse appetizer . . . only served to fan the embers of longing flickering deep within him.

the image etched into his mind would likely haunt him later when things calmed down, but right now...right here, it just felt right. and suguru couldn't deny that he loved being part of this messed-up, passionate triangle. he wanted to continue exploring every corner it offered.

as the sensual dance of tongues slows and you pull away, the afterglow of intense satisfaction still shines bright in suguru's hazel eyes. however, his chest heaves slightly more rapidly than usual as he takes in a lungful of air. feeling satoru near you again makes him stir slightly, rolling his torso toward where satoru stands comfortably behind the couch.

“you sure know how to share our love,” he teases softly, reaching out tentatively with a shaky hand to trace idle patterns over your thigh closest to him on the couch. “why don't we move to our bedroom?” suguru suggest.

“no, let's just stay here,” you mumble.

suguru kisses your shoulder as he moves behind you and takes off your shirt to leave you with nothing underneath. you can feel his still-hard dick press against your ass. suguru nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of your skin mixed with the musk of their combined arousal lingering in the air. his lips trail up your jawline, leaving a warm path of desire etched into your flesh. as he pulls back, suguru gazes deeply into your eyes, his expression open and loving.

“my sweetheart, are you certain you wouldn't prefer the comfort of our bed?” he asks tenderly, though the hardness of his still-erect cock grinding slowly against your buttocks belies his true intentions. suguru knows all too well how you enjoy playing rough and dirty when caught up in the throes of passion— and right now, his desires are burning brighter than ever.

“positive,” you answer.

suguru pushes your back until both of your palms rest against the headboard, eye-to-eye with satoru's dick as you look up at him while the white-haired man is already looking down at you, eyes glassing with hunger, eyeing you like nothing but prey for his to savor. suguru push your hip upward, flashing him with your wet pussy. “beautiful,” he smiles, lightly spank your ass. “arch your back for me, baby?” he asks before pushing his dick into your dripping wall.

at suguru's command, you obediently arch your back, presenting yourself fully to him. your heart pounds wildly in your chest as anticipation courses through your veins, making every nerve ending tingle with excitement. feeling the head of his hard length tease against your entrance sends a shudder rippling across your form. then, with a low groan of pleasure, suguru thrusts forward, burying himself deep inside you.

the sensation is indescribable— the heat, the pressure, the sheer fullness that has you gasping aloud. yet despite the intensity of it all, there's something comforting about having both men surrounding you— supporting and loving you unconditionally . . .

your hips buck involuntarily against him as he begins to set a slow rhythm— each thrust pushing him further into your slick depths while also rubbing delicious friction against sensitive spots hidden within your core. suguru's eyelids flutter shut as he loses himself in the velvety embrace of your clenching walls. every subtle undulation of your inner muscles feels like a personal caress, urging him to lose control and fuck you with wild abandon.

“gorgeous,” he whispers hoarsely, punctuating his words with a particularly deep, forceful plunge. “love watching my dick disappear into your tight cunt,” gis hands come to rest on your waist, gripping possessively as he increases the pace of his thrusts. the room fills with the symphony of slapping skin and ragged breaths, an erotic soundtrack to the lewd act playing out before satoru's hungry gaze.

suguru leans down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss as he continues to rut into you with primal desperation, his tongue mimicking the brutal motion of his hips. watching you being taken from behind, satoru’s dick pulses painfully with need. he reaches down, stroking himself faster as he lets out soft moans of approval. seeing suguru buried balls-deep inside your wet warmth is enough to make even this normally reserved man succumb to base instincts.

a bead of precum forms at the tip of his dick, sliding down its length in thick rivulets. with each pump of his hand, more clear fluid oozes forth— coating his fingers and soaking into the fabric covering his lap. but it isn’t just the visual stimulation that has him panting like a horny teenager; it’s also knowing that suguru gets to see exactly how much he loves watching them together.

“god... i could watch you get fucked like this all day,” satoru groans out between heavy pants, trailing kisses down your spine while his fist moves frantically. suguru’s voice grows more husky with each word as he praises your beauty and flexibility, his cock twitching inside you in response. he relishes the way your pert rear bounces with every powerful thrust, your soft cheeks rippling enticingly as he fucks you senseless.

“fucking hell, you're taking me so well,” he grunts, sweat beading on his brow from exertion. “love seeing my fat cock stretch you wide open, sweetheart.” withdrawing almost completely, suguru slams his dick back in, the force of his renewed assault making you cry out in ecstasy. “oh . . my. god,” you cried, back arches sharply, pressing your lips against satoru's straining erection once more. this time, as suguru starts pounding into you at a frenzied pace, you can taste the salty tang of satoru's precum mingling with your own essence on your tongue.

suguru grunts in appreciation as he feels your slick walls clench around him, milking his shaft with each powerful thrust. his own movements become more erratic, driven by the intoxicating sight of you taking him so willingly, your face flushed with pleasure and your eyes glazed over in bliss. “oh, fuck yes... look at you, so perfect for us,” he growls, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining his rhythm. “taking my cock like a good little slut, aren't you?”

“y-yes, please.”

as if to emphasize his point, suguru reaches around to rub your clit in time with his strokes, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your trembling form. the added stimulation proves to be the final straw, and you can feel your climax building at breakneck speed.

“come on, baby, show me those tits!” satoru whining. encouraged by satoru's eager plea, you throw your head back and let out a loud moan, giving in to the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. your breasts jut out proudly, nipples hardened into peaks begging for attention.

“that's it... show off for us,” suguru commands, smacking one plump mound before leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth. a sharp intake of breath escapes him as he suckles on the sensitive bud vigorously, drawing it deeper into his mouth while continuing to pound relentlessly into your dripping slit below.

your orgasm hits like a freight train, causing your entire frame to convulse violently as waves upon waves of pleasure crash over you. suguru rides out your climax alongside you, his own release imminent as he finally gives in to the overwhelming urge to fill you up.

“you're going to cum for us, aren't ya?”

“p-please, i wanna cum,” you begged.

“you're such a good girl. . .” suguru murmurs appreciatively, leaning down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth. a sharp tug sends sparks shooting straight to your core, amplifying the growing coil of tension there. his fingers work tirelessly on your clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive bud while driving you closer and closer toward obliviation. each stroke draws another moan from deep within your throat— loud enough for both men to hear clearly.

as suguru's relentless pounding drives you closer and closer to the edge, you can barely think straight. all rational thought leaves your mind as waves of pleasure ripple through your body. and then, without warning, everything snaps into focus.

“suguru... i'm—” you whimper, unable to finish your sentence. your body trembles under their combined weight, each thrust driving deeper than the last until it feels like you're being split apart from within. suddenly, without warning, your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave. your pussy clenches tightly around suguru's throbbing member as pleasure explodes throughout your entire being, rendering you momentarily speechless.

“s-shit!” you cry out loudly, throwing your head back and letting loose a series of high-pitched screams that echo throughout the room. as your pussy spasms wildly around his thrusting cock, suguru's climax crests, triggering a torrent of hot semen to flood your insides. “there . . . my, good baby,” he groans deeply, the sound muffled against your breast as he buries his face in your cleavage, his hips stuttering erratically as he empties himself into you.

through it all, satoru watches intently, his dick throbbing with need as he frantically jerks himself off, coating his fist in copious amounts of precum. the sight of suguru losing control and filling you up is too much for him to bear, and with a strangled cry, he finally allows himself to cum, painting his stomach with thick ropes of jizz as he rides out his intense orgasm.

suguru's grip tightens on your hip as he rides out his orgasm, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you up with his warm seed. each spurt sends another wave of pleasure coursing through his body, causing him to shudder uncontrollably. his breathing comes in ragged gasps as he slowly regains control over his senses, doesn't get a chance to pull his dick out before your pussy clenches around and slightly leans down towards satoru, taking his dick into your mouth as you clean his cum.

satoru's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your mouth envelop his still-hardening cock, but he doesn't protest. instead, a low moan escapes his throat as he leans back against the pillows, enjoying the sensation of your warm, wet tongue lapping up the remnants of his release. satoru looks on, a mix of awe and desire etched on his features as he watches you service his boyfriend so eagerly. his own spent cock twitches in response, already beginning to stir anew at the erotic display unfolding before him.

satoru lets out a low moan as he feels your lips enveloping his still-hard length, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across your back. “that's right, take care of me,” he whispers huskily, his voice laced with satisfaction and arousal. he watches with half-lidded eyes as you bob your head up and down along his shaft, cleaning away every trace of his cum. the sensation of having you suckle on him after such an intense session sends another surge of desire coursing through him.

“mmm, just like that, baby,” suguru encourages, gently guiding your head as you bob up and down along his length. “show satoru what a good little cocksucker you are.” satoru lets out a low moan as he feels your lips enveloping his still-hard length, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across your back.

feeling your lips envelop his still-hard length ups and downs, satoru lets out a low moan of satisfaction. je leans back against the back of the couch, his fingers gently combing through your hair as you take care of cleaning him up. “god, that feels incredible,” he murmurs appreciatively, his other hand lightly stroking your cheek. “you really know how to take care of a man, don't you?” his glossy lips flashing you a lazy smile.

suguru fell on the couch beside you, watching you going up and down toward satoru with your knees buried in the soft material. the sight of you kneeling between them, taking care of both their needs simultaneously is enough to make suguru's heart swell with pride and affection. he reaches out a hand, brushing it gently over your backside as he watches you work diligently on satoru's cock.

“just look at you,“ he purrs approvingly, his gaze locked onto the erotic scene unfolding before him. “so beautiful and devoted.” his thumb brushes teasingly over the sensitive skin just above where datoru enters your mouth, adding another layer of sensation to an already overwhelming experience. despite being thoroughly spent, there's no denying that seeing you like this has reignited something deep within him.

you pull satoru's dick out of your lip with a ’bop', cleaning all of his cum from his dick. a satisfied hum vibrates out of satoru's lips. his thumb gently caresses your lower lips before licking the remaining cum, smiling as you flop beside suguru with satoru following along beside you. your eyes are closed as you try to catch your breath. with a contented sigh, satoru leans back against the couch, his chest heaving slightly as he catches his breath. his eyes remain fixed on you, a warm, appreciative smile playing on his lips.

“thank you, baby,” he says softly, reaching out to gently stroke your cheek once more. “you always know just what to do to make me feel so good.” suguru moves to sit up properly, his gaze never leaving yours. there's a spark of desire in his eyes, a promise of more to come.

“so, what do you say we order some pizza and watch a movie together? we can cuddle up on the couch and just relax for a bit,” he suggests, his voice low and inviting. “unless you have something else in mind, of course...” satoru kisses your shoulder “let her rest first baby, she is doing a great job today,” suguru chirped, sweeping away the sweat on your forehead. he leans down to give the white-haired man a wholehearted peck.

satoru nods in agreement, leaning over to press a gentle kiss on suguru's lips. “you're right, let's give her a break for now,” he agrees, his voice soft and soothing. “we can always have another round later if she's up for it.” he turns his attention back to you, offering you a warm, comforting smile. “why don't you go take a nice long bath and relax for a while? we'll bring you some food and snacks, and then we can curl up together on the couch for a movie marathon.”

you were panting softly, your vision still a little hazy from the intense pleasure. your body felt both tired and relaxed. you took his suggestion gladly, knowing you needed to take it slow. “that sounds lovely,” you responded, sitting up, still feeling a bit lightheaded. “can you help me get up?” satoru smiles softly, immediately moving to your side to help you up, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist to support you.

suguru helps satoru assist you up from the floor, supporting you gently as you wobble on shaky legs. “there's my good girl,” suguru coos, guiding you toward the bathroom. “go take care of yourself, we've got everything under control here.”

“look at you, always so sensitive even when we are gentle with you,” he teases, giving your shoulder a light kiss. you let out a soft huff as you roll your eyes, but secretly enjoy the teasing. “and you two are always so demanding,” you respond with a hint of sass, trying to maintain your usual banter. satoru chuckles, his shoulders shaking slightly as a laugh. “hey, can you blame us? you always look and sound too damn good when we touch you,” he responds, giving your waist a small squeeze.

your blush deepens at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and flattery. you try to brush it off, replying with a slightly sarcastic tone. “oh, shut up and get me to the bathroom already.” suguru is walking behind both of you, shaking his head fondly. they both knew just how to push your buttons in the best ways possible.

[luveline]

hiii, could we please get bombshell!reader x spencer finding out they’re pregnant with baby no. 2 xxx

Hi thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

The second time, it catches you completely off guard. You still remember the afternoon you’d spent at Spencer’s apartment before you realised you were pregnant with Amy, your first, that nagging feeling of otherness that plagued you for days, and finally got too much to ignore. How Spencer had offered his hand, had sat you in the chair next to him despite it being a tight squeeze. You’d been more scared than you let on, quite hopeful, but you knew in a way before you took the test that it was already happening. 

You figure you have a pretty good idea of what being pregnant feels like, and when your period doesn’t come, you don’t pay it any mind. They’ve been spotty since Amy, on and off and on again. Spencer stopped trying to log it for you a long ago. 

“Mama?” 

You smile. It’s a rare day when Amy calls you ‘mama’: she didn’t spend long in the mama-dada region of time, moving on quickly to ‘mommy’. 

“What’s up, love bug?” you whisper. 

Amy —Amanda, Spencer’s idea, meaning ‘worth of love’— tilts her head back. Spencer swears she’s all you, but you can see both of you in her face, threads of your families. “Daddy’s sleeping?” she asks, her lips screwed into his pout, her eyebrows pulled into your worried pinching. 

“He got home late last night, remember? He’s just tired.” 

She frowns at his face turned into your thigh. “Wake up?” 

“Let’s let him sleep, okay? Sleep is important, it keeps us healthy.”

“You’ll play?” 

“I can’t, he’s sleeping in my lap.” 

“Push.” 

“We don’t push.” 

Amy, perplexed by this, clambers onto the couch despite her father’s entire body being in the way, and Spencer, so used to this mistreatment, doesn’t so much as stir. Amy slides into the space between his chest and the back of the couch and leans down to grin at his lax face. 

“Gonna give daddy a kiss?” you suggest in a murmur. 

Amy gathers the curls from his face and kisses his forehead, smack dab in the middle. 

Spencer’s breath starts to quicken. Amy senses a change and begins patting the back of his neck. “Shhh,” she says, uncoordinated fingers trying hard to be gentle as she pets her father. “Shush, daddy. Sleep.”

Spencer spends hours sleeping in your lap, until eventually Amy tramples him one too many times and his stomach growls its protest. He wakes, turning back, his hair crushed to your thigh, and when he sees you he gives you the same lovely smile as always. 

His teeth peek from behind his lips. “That’s a pretty sight to wake up to,” he says. 

It’s this sleepy afternoon together that means later, when you’re sitting on the closed toilet with a pregnancy test taken from four parts curiosity and one part responsibility, you’re unafraid of the result. You think of Amy’s small hands stroking Spencer’s hair from his face, her head under your nose as you’d cuddled, and you think of Spencer’s dozy smile and his months spent pouring over baby name books, and you know it’s all gonna be fine. 

“You alright?” Spencer asks when you make it to bed some short minutes later. His nap has left him wide awake. 

You climb into bed and turn out your lamp, laying down, curling in, a secret smile playing on your lips as he drags the blankets to your neck. “I’m good.” 

“What’s making you smile?” he asks. 

You gesture for him to lay down with you in the middle dark. Yellow from Amy’s hallway night light bleeds under the door, illuminating the hints of his features. You don’t need it to know what he looks like, where his cheek is in the dark as you lift your hand. “Love you,” you say. 

He pulls you in for a gentle kiss. “Love you,” he says into your lips, hand slipping to the nape of your neck. He squeezes it, groaning at the very back of his throat as he adds, “Missed you.” 

“I missed you too. Sleep well, sweetheart.” 

He wraps an arm around you and cradles you against him. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight, angel.” His nose presses to your temple. His lips brush your eyebrow. 

You linger in the quiet for a while. Spencer nearly falls asleep. 

“Spencer?” you ask.

“Mm?” He doesn’t sound tired at all, but he’d been content to lie with you in the quiet.

“Just, by the way. Just so you know,” —you rub your face into his chest, breathing in his smell— “I’m pregnant again.” 

Another lapse of silence. Then Spencer springs up and turns on his bedside lamp to your squinting ire, eyes alight with shock. “You’re what?” 

“Pregnant.” You turn your face into the pillow to hide from the unwelcome light. “With a baby,” you say, your voice mildly muffled, “maybe two or so months.” 

Spencer slips a hand under your cheek and turns you back around. He holds your face in both palms, a rueful sort of acceptance about him as he leans down for a good look at you, though underneath it you can see the same thrumming contentedness you’d felt seeing the double pink lines. “And you’re telling me now?” 

“Didn’t you always say you expected to be the last to know?” you tease. “I did a test a few minutes ago. Clear Blue. Very accurate, or so you’ve said.” 

Spencer laughs and presses his face sharply into your own. Your nose throbs after a while, but you say nothing. You smile when he sniffles, raking your hand through his mousy brown hair. 

“I didn’t have an inkling of a suspicion,” you confess in a whisper. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you say, laughing under your breath as his hand creeps down to your stomach. “It’s the same as it was yesterday, I promise.”

“Well, it’s not.” Spencer’s face falls into the nook of your shoulder, hand slipping from your stomach to behind you, where he holds you like you’re at risk of escaping him. You have no such inclination.

[thebiggerbear]

no one's the new me

Summary: Soldier Boy is the OG Supe. You goad him into proving it and get more than you bargained for...or did you?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: All unbeta'd. Thank you to @rieleatiel for the pre-read!

Warnings: smut; rough sex; language; implied breeding kink

Word Count: 846

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Soldier Boy Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

@muhahaha303; @just-levyy; @solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007

@onlyangel-444

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You can also read on AO3

Strong hands tugged on your hair, forcing your head back and your body to arch, accommodating the brute force you were being fucked with. You could feel the aggression, the rage, that was being unleashed on you in response to your taunts earlier. Your words had been purposeful; you knew they would rile him up enough to throw caution to the wind and show you how wrong you were. It had been nearly three hours since he began teaching you to “respect your fucking elders.”

Your throat was sore, your ass bruised from hips brutally slamming into yours — plus you actually got spanked near the beginning because you were being a fucking brat — and your pussy was on fire. At least five orgasms had been out of your body so far, a new personal record for you, and yet you wouldn’t dream of stopping. Though you knew the man savagely pistoning in and out of you would, the second you said it. 

That was just another thing that drew your desire to him the second he stepped out of that tube back in Russia: the control. You’d watched in fascination as he let loose a burst of energy that knocked The Female on her ass, yet you later found out she’d been fortunate after that same energy took out city blocks and one old, washed up, backstabbing Crimson Cunt. The minute you saw him emerge from the smoking wreckage of her trailer, his suit and shield completely intact, you knew he was so much more than a weapon for Butcher and his merry band of idiots to wield against Homelander.

He was the embodiment of raw power, a purity from being the first ever Supe mixed with whatever cocktail the Russians had given him.

You certainly could feel that power, the might and god-like strength that the body slamming into yours contained. If you weren’t experiencing the best fuck of your life right then, your eyes would have rolled back into your head and you would have orgasmed from the heady knowledge of that alone. 

“Say it,” was growled menacingly into your ear.

You pressed your lips together to keep quiet. You knew that would only stoke the rage but that didn’t matter.

Fingers roughly gripped your chin and turned you to face the dark emerald gaze burning into yours, fury written all over his features. He stopped fucking you for a moment, only to deliver deep and harsh thrusts, his expression tightening with more anger the longer you refused to give in to his demand. You could feel your body starting to act of its own accord, the excitement rushing through you as fiery tingles began deep inside you, right near where he had been pummeling you a moment ago as a matter of fact. “Say it,” he commanded once more in a snarl.

The tingles radiated throughout your pelvic region and you started to feel a wave of sensations getting closer and closer to overwhelming every single inch of you. You reached up to grip his wrist, holding on tightly as your body began to shake. 

He was merciless, though. He wanted you to have learned your lesson. “Fucking say it.”

“No one…” You struggled to get out the words, to keep eye contact even; the feelings overtaking your body were that intense. You let out an exhalation of a sound you had never made before. “No one’s the new you,” you panted, your jaw dropping in a silent cry as that wave became like wildfire, consuming you rapidly, your fingers finding purchase in his forearm.

A shark-like smile slowly spread across Soldier Boy’s face as he watched you alternate between squirming and tensing up. “That’s right. And don’t you fucking forget it.”

You could see that he was about to resume pounding into you and once he did, you would be lost to the intensity of the orgasm that was quickly coming to claim you. A scream was about to tear out of your chest when he pushed in deeply one last time, him clearly enjoying that he had you on that edge, about to go over it, and deciding to be a dick about it. So you managed to grab his face, forcing him to meet your eyes, and quickly said what you’d been waiting to tell him ever since you saw him in that fucking suit, wielding that big ass shield which served as more of a weapon than protection. “Except the son you’re going to fuck into me tonight.”

His smirk dropped and the burning emerald was back, possibly more ablaze than before, and his grip tightened on you almost to the point of pain. If you weren’t in the throes of the most mind-numbing orgasm of your life right then, you would have given him your own smirk, knowing exactly what was about to follow. You thought he had unleashed on you before, but once again, he was intent on showing you just how wrong you were. You had never been happier to be mistaken twice in one night.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[strawberrymochin]

The cum analysis

A slight analysis on how jjk men would cum | Gojo satoru; Geto suguru; Nanami kento; Ryomen sukuna; Toji fushiguro |

Gojo Satoru

Gojo cums hard and a lot. Like insanely a lot. He would shudder from the build up pleasure with a series of moans as he spurts his load into you. You could say you're milking him rather than making him cum. Sometimes he might cum prematurely while foreplay, which is practically a chance for you to display your dominance and overstimulate him. And when I say he cums a lot, I mean even if he wears condoms to prevent it ending inside of you, the intensity of him cumming would either end up leaking out of the condom or breaking it. If he fucks you raw, his one orgasm would end up filling your cervix upto the brim.

His cum would be thick, creamy and milky white. Super jiggly in texture almost resembling jelly. It would have a slight odour and would taste sweet considering the amount of sweet he consumes in his diet.

Geto Suguru

Geto cums a lot, but he tries to edge himself along with you wanting to sync both of your highs. He would be totally focused on making you feel good, drawing circles on your clit with his tip as his other hand focuses on streching your tight velvet walls for him to make it fit, curling his fingers inside you, drawing orgasm after orgasm, totally neglecting his throbbing penis. When he finally buries himself in you and starts thrusting himself chasing the doors of heaven he gets to experience, rolling his eyes back, swallowing his moans, he would feel his balls getting heavy and his muscles around his pelvic region starting to contract. He would not be able to contain himself and finally cum as he furiously drives you through another orgasm pinching your oversensitive nipples. He would cum in spurts filling you up so good that his cum would be oozing out your vagina messing the sheets even though he hasn't pulled out yet.

His cum would be slick and creamy. It would the prettiest pearly white you've ever seen as it trickles down your legs, when you stand up. His cum would be odour less and might be sweet or salty depending upon his current diet.

Nanami Kento

Damn. He hates making mess, you know right? He's lowkey a clean freak and would hate to mess things up, except that one time where he would lose his shit and cum uncontrollably as he fucks you on the kitchen counter, in low spurts messing the kitchen floor and you both. You just wanted to bake some vanilla cupcakes for him, however he had you now bend over the counter ass fucking you while the cup cake batter laid aside in neglectance. He would twitch uncontrollably as he fucks you senseless while his balls rams on your pussy with each thrust. The fact that he's fucking you mindlessly as both of your slick pool down, in his kitchen made his cock even more hard, as he continues cumming. He cums a decent amount of his load enough for you to feel more than satisfied.

His cum would be sticky and might smell a bit metalic. His texture would be somewhat between creamy and watery. It will be sticky as said earlier and I dunno if it's weird to describe it that way but if you swallow his load your mouth would feel sticky like umm....well.....prime from dark web...what the heck I'm even babbling.... forget you ever read this....but like all those reels if you have seen you would know the texture I'm talking about....whatever let's move on.

Ryomen Sukuna

Hail lord sukuna!! Sukuna- sama's cum would make your head go dizzy. It's almost so addictive that you would be begging him to fill you up to the brim again. And I'm not even kidding when I say this but once you've had it there's no backing away. He cums a heck lot and even after cumming three times or more his still hard cock would be pounding into your pussy mercilessly. He ejaculates fast with lots of load, thus you wouldn't have time to leak out the previous one as another one fills you up, he would creampie your pussy and press his big palm on your lower stomach just to see his cum spurting from the sides of your hole stuffed with his dick. Sukuna- sama and his dick- sama both are merciless. I don't need to explain more....Ig

His cum would be thick and slippery, and so much in quantity that you could save it up and use it as a lube in future. :⁠-⁠) His cum would stink a bit and you love the nasty humid sex smell it gives off. Might even taste metalic or salty. Have fun.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji— the dilfushiguro would cum a decent amount to get your entire lower region sticky and sloppy with his mess. Your ass would pound up and down forming sticky strings, exhilarating the sound of your skin slapping as the moans of you two echoes through the empty room. His fingers would tangle itself, rolling the slick of you both only to stuff it into your mouth wanting you to lick his finger clean. He might also tell you to lick his dick clean after you both ride down your high.

His cum would be sticky, sloppy and thick. I believe it might be slight off cold like of pale white, since being broke baby wouldn't have a proper diet, that still doesn't affect the quality of sperms yk. Also his cum would be odourless.

Other parts of this series- The moan analysis | The Dick analysis

© strawberrymochin 24 | plagiarism won't be tolerated |

[cookiekissers]

I won't be replying directly to this request because it was anonymous, but for the future please remember to send off anon if you want nsfw. I can't guarantee or verify your age because anyone can lie about their age when they're on anon!

🔥🔞[Short Spicy Fic + Burning Spice NSFT HCs]

You stare up at the towering giant of a Cookie looming over you. His hair was dark, long, and wild. He had a muscular build, strong arms, and a large, well-defined chest. The guy was stacked, especially in the chest region. It was impossible not to let your gaze wander down his form. Now, this was one handsome Cookie.

"You. Cookie. On your knees. Bow to the Great Destroyer!" Burning Spice Cookie commanded. You blinked in confusion.

During your travels through the sands of this land, you saw many statues dedicated to "The Great Destroyer." Though the Cookie was handsome, he didn't look anything like those giant, beastly statues.

You snickered playfully.

"Heh, really, you? The Beast of Destruction? You sure about that, handsome?" You tease.

You opened your mouth to fire another flirtatious comment at the stranger when he suddenly lifted you by your hips and slammed you against the steep rock wall, knocking the breath from your lungs. Burning Spice's large, muscular body pressed up against you, caging you in with ease. He stared down at you, the heat in his eyes scorching you to your very core. You felt yourself flush, feeling as vulnerable as ever under his hungry gaze. Burning Spice growled low in his throat, his tongue swiping over his lips, eyeing you with a growing lust.

"Very brave of you to speak to me that way, little Cookie." He commended. "But I'll show you what the Beast of Destruction is capable of and why I earned that title." Burning Spice grinned. His voice turned husky, his words full of promise. You gulped, trying desperately not to fidget. Burning Spice leaned forward, capturing your lips roughly. His hot kiss filled you with a fiery need as your tongue tingled and burned with a sweet, addicting heat. Your legs quickly wrapped around Burning Spice's waist, and he wasted no time grinding himself between your legs, his eagerness showing itself quickly.

You gasped as Burning Spice Cookie pulled away to focus on your neck, covering it in feverish kisses that leave behind a tingling sensation. It was one that you couldn't get enough of. His sharp, golden teeth sunk into your crispy dough, and a sudden yelp from you made him chuckle in triumph. The Beast's grinding had become quicker and more desperate. You hung on, your fingers tangling in his black locks as his teeth remained clamped on your throat. Slowly, you could feel something rubbing against you in Burning Spice Cookie's loose pants.

"The destruction I cause on Earthbread will be nothing compared to what I will do you, my little Cookie~" The Beast rumbled fervently.

You panted, your face flushed and your stomach tying itself in knots at Burning Spice's husky voice in your ear. The friction he was giving you only made you feel hotter, and your head spun.

Once he released your throat from his jaws to shove his tongue down your throat, you took the initiative. You wrapped your arms around his neck eagerly, surprising him with a steamy kiss of your own. Burning Spice Cookie wasn't rough in that moment, it almost seemed sweet the way he squeezed you tightly, kissing you deeply and grinding up against you. You drew back slightly, panting.

"Well then, go ahead. Destroy me, Daddy,~" You purred seductively, teasing him further, your hands trailing over his chest and shoulders. Burning Spice Cookie grinned widely at the invitation, and he reached down and ripped your pants off your body.

🔥[HEAD CANONS]

You can't tell me after spending centuries locked in a magical prison he isn't going to be pent up and horny. Showing clear interest in him and teasing him is going to get you a one way ticket to pound town. Burning Spice won't even care if you two do it out in the open, he's horny and he wants you NOW.

Yeah, he would definitely fuck you in front of his spice army. Just to make sure that everyone knows that you're his.

I hc that the Beasts are much larger than the average Cookie, Burning Spice especially. And of course, being a big guy, his dick is huge lmao

Call him "Daddy" and he will go crazy. You won't be leaving him for a while or walking when its over.

He loves cumming inside and filling you over and over. He gets unexpectedly mushy and cuddly after a breeding session.

Burning Spice is the definition of Spicy. His internal temperature is far higher than the average Cookie's and his cum is no exception! It's hot, literally, but thankfully not hot enough to cause injury, but it does take a little bit to get used to.

I imagine him to be the type to be ok with a friends with benefits type of agreement, only to get needy for you frequently, and realize in the middle of fucking that he's balls deep in love with you hjghfjgf

He doesn't like anyone else touching what is his. Any Cookie tries to hit you up he's grabbing his axe and not holding anything back.

Loves biting you while he fucks you hard. Its one of his favourite things, and you will often be covered in bite marks.

When out in public, he will be his usual self. But when in private with you, the tiniest amount of his old self from before his corruption will come out. But these occasions are rare.

Burning Spice will probably prioritize his pleasure over your own, but he's not going to leave you unsatisfied.

He's a top/dom, and does not tolerate anything else. He likes having control over you during sex and enjoys ravaging you until you pass out.

Is lowkey a bit into degradation. Will call you a cumslut, boy toy, pet, daddy's dirty boy, daddy's cock slave, ect

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Princess Reader)

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I. Heal the Heart 

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, nescio. Sed fieri sentior et excrucior.  I love you and I hate you.  Why I do this, I have no idea.  But I feel it happening and I’m in agony. [Catullus]

Following the conquest of Egypt and its incorporation into the Roman Empire, there was a growing interest in its ancient culture. Over time, many in Egypt began to express a desire for greater autonomy and control over their own affairs. Dissatisfaction with Roman control over Egypt became part of the Egyptian psyche.

This is precisely why, immediately after the death of Emperor Septimius Severus, preparations for revolt began in Egypt. His emperor sons Caracella and Geta were already doing little else but quarreling with each other, drinking and having fun, watch gladiators  fighting and feeling proud of themselves. Even when they were informed that their subjects in Egypt had revolted, they continued to do what they were doing. They didn't care about anything but themselves and their daily activities.

The Egyptians were aware of this, of course, they knew they could not be a strong soldier like their emperor father. They were quite sure that the day would come when they, with the help of the Greeks, would put the Roman governors in Egypt to the sword. After all, they had been making preparations since the death of Severus. There were Jews among them too, all of them insistent on establishing the sovereignty of ancient Egypt, but there was one thing they did not consider or pay much attention to.

General Marcus Acacius.

They say, you can feel the ground shake when he walks on it. He makes his opponents feel certain of their own death at the very moment he draws his sword. A daring commander with  few who could stand up to him. It is unclear whether this is an exaggeration or not, but it is still rumored that he cut a lion in half in the Colosseum.

A beast in every sense of the word.

More than that, he is a leader who manages his legions very well and spur them on to achieve success during the war, a man who has not yet tasted a failure, well-earned the title of general in every way.

Since it was obvious that no one else could succeed in suppressing the rebellion, he was immediately sent to the region with the intervention of his Empresss Julia Domna, the mother of the two emperors.

Just like she guessed, he had succeeded in putting down the rebellion, of course, no doubt, as soon as his name rang through, the rebels, along with all the inhabitants of Egypt, have knew that they already defeated.

Some were forced to surrender, those who resisted and fled were found and killed by the Roman soldiers, but not all. The general didn't kill the surrendered ones, he took them as captives which was pretty fair for a beast. In contrast to him, the ones who fled were not, they were so desperate that they didn't know what to do and they started attacking everything and everywhere like rabid dogs.

They even attempted to violate the laws of war and mapped out a plan to kill the General and his soldiers, and even all the medics, in the night at their camps. It was a suicide mission, but they were on the verge of success.

'Has anyone seen the General? He's not in his tent!' A burly soldier strode in, holding his sword which was covered in the blood of the rebel he had just killed. He looked through all the tents one by one, moving quickly and with a concerned look on his face.

The clinking of swords echoed in the darkness as the soldiers cut down the last remaining rebels to death with their swords.

Soon, the soldier ran to his General, relieved to see him, but he was wounded in the abdomen moments ago. As he gently pressed his hand to his injury, a small amount of blood emerged, shining like rubies under the moonlight as it dripped from between his strong fingers onto the grass. His attackers were no longer alive, they were all lying on the ground, were literally cut to ribbons. They attacked him in his sleep when he was wearing nothing but his tunic, catching him off guard. He nodded to the soldier, demanding assistance as his white tunic transformed into a crimson hue. He had been wounded many times before, countless times, but this was nothing like before and was undoubtedly the worst injury he had ever sustained. ‘I think, I… got…,’ he groaned, it hurt much even when he speaks, feeling like beneath the wound his blood was boiling. ‘…poisoned.’ These were the last words spilled from his lips before his enormous body slumping to his knees, collapse altogether to the ground.

The woman with waist-length with black hair was dragging you along with her as she walking across the meadow, you were struggled, couldn’t control your feet, as if the ground was sliding under. She had her hands outstretched at her sides, even though her back was turned, it was not difficult to see her smile by the sunlight reflecting the curve of her chin. She abruptly ceased her movement and bent down to gather a few herbs in a meadow. She plucked them, gathered them in her palms, and kissed them. You heard the whispers between her lips and the harmony of the wind rippling through your ears. It was clear that she was blessing these herbs. When she turned to you, you staggered backwards, hypnotized by her face, so beautiful, mesmerizing, her eyes hypnotizing yours, it was impossible to look away, no escape from them.

Perhaps even more surprising than anything else was that her face and eyes were identical to yours. It really was truly astonishing. She handed you the plants like they were rare jewelry. You could see her arms shone in the sun, and her skin looked like fine marble. It was impossible to believe that it could be human skin; it must have been that of a goddess, but why did her face resemble yours?

'Heal the heart, child,' her voice sang through the meadow like a gentle breeze. You couldn't move your lips, but she heard you anyway.

‘Heart?’

A warm wind blew, and the silhouette of the woman came closer, startling you. Her hazel eyes were turning green under the sun. As she slightly opens her lips, you locked your eyes on them and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘The heart of Rome,’ almost whispers, ‘Serve it,’ a little loud now like commanding, ‘Heal it...’ again whispers then gently puts the herbs on your hand.

A strong wind blew, and the silhouette of the woman danced with the wind. The sunny sky burst into a starry night as the wind embraced the silhouette and rose to the sky, to the stars. You felt the ground under your feet, but your eyes were drawn to the enchanting sky.

As the wind finally gave way to the silent night, you looked at the herbs you were holding in your hand. These kind of herbs you were used to seeing almost every day, but what you were not used to seeing was that they were sparkling like diamonds between your fingers. It was as if you could feel their healing power on your skin.

Abruptly, you heard the voice again, echoing across the meadow. Your ears were once more caressed, blessed, but this time, the words were different.

‘Cure him…’

You barely heard your name being called and your body was shaking, slowly opened your eyes, you saw a familiar but worried face.

‘Wake up, please, you need to get up now,’ the concern in the man's voice brought you back to reality, the effect of the dream disappearing like a cloud of dust between the stone walls and dissipating into the air.

‘Uncle?’

You had rarely seen this face of your uncle who had taken you in when you were an orphan, who cared for you, protected you and raised you well more than any other father or mother ever would.

You sat up from the firm mattress you were lying on, ‘I thought we were travelling tomorrow night?’

‘No, no, that's not why I woke you up,’ he put your big dark cloak over your head. ‘You need to hide.’

You were startled to hear shouting and footsteps coming from outside the wooden door of the room. This was not the sort of noise you would normally expect to hear in this Valetudinarium (hospital, clinic) at this late hour. 

‘What is going on?’ You rub your eyes with your fingers, trying to figure out the situation.

Your uncle tucked your hair deeper into your cloak.

'The Roman soldiers are gathering all the medici (psychians). I have to go with them.'

'Roman soldiers? I thought they left after they put down the rebellion, and slaughtered thousands. Besides, they already have medici with them why they-?'

He grabbed you by the shoulders, his anxiety evident.

'Some rebels with indigestion murdered all the medici in their tents, and then-'

A soldier's voice was heard from one of the nearby rooms. You both turned your heads in that direction, startled, and then looked at each other again.

'General, they targeted him. They attacked him in his sleep. He got them, but he got poisoned. They want me to save him.'

‘Poisoned? But Uncle, he might already be dead, if you won’t be able to cure him they'll blame you or punish you and-’

‘Don’t think about it now, go and hide, as a woman you are not allowed to be here remember? You have to hide and wait for my return.’

The soldiers' voices were heard very close by.

‘No, I'll come with you, if it's aspis (venomous snake in Nile region) venom we'll use the same techniques as before, like we did with the boy last time, it would take too long to make an antivenom on your own, let me help you.’

‘It's too dangerous for you my dearest, to go among the soldiers, even if you wear these men clothes, we can't hide the beauty of your face, dear.’

You strode over to the cauldron in the fireplace and ran your hands over the soot that had accumulated underneath it.

‘It worked before,’ you said, rubbing a little soot on your cheeks.

‘Only at the market. This time it's more dangerous. I'd never forgive myself if I couldn't protect you there.’

‘Don't worry. I'll be back here as soon as we've finished with the antivenom. I know all the paths and shortcuts very well now.’

Suddenly a soldier burst in, kicking the door angrily, you shuddered.

‘You two! Get out, now! We don't have time!

‘We're making sure to collect all medical supplies, sir,’ he turned to you. ‘Come on, boy, don't dawdle!’

You nodded without looking at soldier, grabbed all medicine bottles.

‘You'd better hurry!’

As soon as the soldier left the room, your uncle moved swiftly to the corner and opened the small wooden chest. He took out a cream-coloured envelope of slightly worn paper, sealed with a wax seal bearing the emblem of Septimius Severus.

'This is…'

'I was going to give this to you tomorrow as I promised last time, but there's no time now. If anything happens to me, you will open it. Everything about your true family is in here.'

You took the envelope from him with shaking hands. The previous emperor himself had sealed it. You wondered what it meant.

Your uncle grabbed your shoulders and shook you, making sure you understood how important this letter was.

‘No one should ever see this. Do you understand me? No one! After you open it, hide it. Do not let anyone see it. But don't lose it, hide it like your life depends on it, you'll understand why.’

You nodded firmly and swallowed hard. You tucked the letter into the bag hanging around your neck and hid it at the very bottom under the medicine bottles, making them rattle in the process.

‘Aya, you’re going to have to choose,’ he looked at you before leaving the room.

‘Choose what uncle?’

‘To run or stay. It’ll make sense when you read the letter,’ he checked the hall and grabbed your wrist. You were so confused but you had to think about this later.

'We have to get out now, soldiers are outside, quick!'

The soldiers had gathered all the medici they could find in the army headquarters, near the tents. There were seven of them yet were unable to find a solution to the General's injury. When it was only you and your uncle who were next, a burly soldier, who was of a higher rank than the others, approached you two. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact. Everyone was in a rush, with almost all of them mobilized to save the general's life. Your gender didn't matter to them, for now. As you were about to follow your uncle into the tent, the soldier stopped you by raising his hand.

‘Only the medicus.’

‘My aide, sir, let him in. He's as expert as I am.’

As your uncle is their last hope, he let you in, but did not follow you inside, stands guard outside the tent. The General's squire was standing right next to him, he looked at you with tears in his eyes. It was a heartbreaking sight. The sorrow had taken possession of everything inside the tent, and you could feel it right down to your bones.

The General was lying on a mattress in the west corner of the tent. He was unconscious, but you noticed that his lips were moving, like murmuring. You moved forward to look closer to see his face, which you had been so curious about.

His face was exactly as you had imagined, and yet not. He had many scars, as if he had been born with them, his light brown skin embracing them. His moustache and beard were partially grey, his nose and chin perfectly shaped, as if the Prometheus had spent more time shaping this man. His face was stunning, and it made your heart beat fast. You had never felt this way about any other man, well you never had an opportunity to do though.

You were somewhat disappointed to see his eyes closed. You were curious about what they might look like, and you were eager to see what he would look like when he opened them. When you found yourself wanting to touch his face, you were a little surprised. For a moment, you forgot why you were there. Your uncle had already picked up the sword with which General had been wounded and was examining the blood on it. You went over to help him, keeping one eye on the general, lying there with his imposing body and half of the white tunic he wore dyed red.

Your heart constricted with pain, and the dream you had came vividly to mind.

‘Cure him.’

‘We need to check his wound!’ You were startled by your uncle's loud voice, squinting at you, you felt ashamed.

As your uncle beckoned, you approached him, seeing the wound was not deep but the skin around the cut starting to get pale from the venom and the edges curling inwards.

‘He doesn't have much time, let's start making the antivenom now,’ he swallowed, the wound was really getting worse, you had to cure him no matter what.

Maybe, you thought, this is why the Gods showed you this in your dream, they warned you in advance that your life depends on it.

The process of making the antivenom took slightly longer than anticipated, but you persevered admirably. Your uncle cleaned the wound to neutralize it while you were perspiring from the fabric of your clothes. Once the antivenom was finally administered, your uncle applied the antidote carefully to the wound but he was exhausted, fingers are shaking so you helped him even you were feeling so tired too. Your eyelids were almost closed but you managed to complete your duty perfectly.

The soldier from earlier came into the tent to check the process, you bowed your head, and stepped back.

'We've cleaned the wound, once its neutralized, applied the antidote. We just need to wait now,' your uncle informed him, wiping sweat off his forehead. 'We need to give him some time, and make sure he drinks water soon to avoid dehydration.’

As the solider checking the wound you turned your head to look at the squire boy who was sobbing just ago, already fallen asleep. Poor boy, you thought.

The soldier ordered you to leave the tent and wait outside.

You felt your arms and legs go numb with fatigue and collapsed to the ground, sat cross-legged, trying hard to stay awake. Your uncle was same but he still struggled to sleep. In the end, he couldn't control his eyelids.

You woke up to the sound of the soldiers shouting and arguing. You turned your head, couldn't make out what they were disagreeing about, but they were making a lot of noise.

'You better go in and make sure the General drinks some water. He needs to stay hydrated,' your uncle said in firmly, watching the soldiers probably keep an eye on them.

The tent was empty except for the General. The soldier from earlier was outside, reassuring the other soldiers. You approached to check him. His forehead was covered in sweat, his body was fighting with venom. You quickly grabbed a damp cloth and pressed it gently on his forehead. Then you touched his lips with your thin, fragile fingers. You felt something intense growing inside you. As a secret medicus, you have touched the face and other parts of the body of many men and women to cure them. However, touching this man's face and lips was never like touching others.

You took a deep breath to pull yourself together. This was nonsense.

You made his lips crack open and dipped a rag into the fresh water in the copper pot. You pressed it against the general's rather dry, pale lips, squeezing it through his mouth.

After repeatedly doing this, you decided you had enough. Just before you withdrew your hand, the general's strong hand grabbed yours with a firm grip. You were surprised and moaned in pain, opened your hand with pressure, and the rag fell to the ground.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you looked at his face. He opened those eyes you had been so curious about and looked at you with a cold, calculating gaze, squeezing your wrist so tightly you felt it would break in a minute. You stifled a scream and moaned in pain, 'Sir, I'm here for help.' You sounded almost as if you were crying, and suddenly he moaned in pain as well, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, the effort drained him. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his breathing quickened.

When he finally released your wrist, you threw yourself backwards for dear life, rubbed your wrist with your other hand and stroked it, praying to the Gods to take the pain away. You could have sworn to Jupiter that if he had squeezed your wrist any harder, you would have heard a cracking sound coming from your bones.

How could he possibly be so strong even when exhausted, so close to death?

As the pain receded, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to calm down. Your thin wrist was painted the red like poppies, as if the shadows of his fingers were engraved on your skin.

You glanced timidly over your shoulder, he was still lying with his eyes closed, but you had just made a terrible mistake, he heard your voice, must have noticed you were a woman, and only the Gods knew what he would do when he came to his senses.

You had to leave immediately, wrapping your wrist in a clean piece of cloth and tucking the sleeve of your dress into it so that the bandage wouldn't be visible. When you came out of the tent, your uncle grabbed your arm and pulled you behind the tent.

‘Uncle, the General seemed to opened his eyes for a moment and heard my voice, he might remember when he awakens,' you said in a whisper, hoping no one have heard you.

‘Gods have mercy upon us,’ he glanced down, murmuring, then grabbed you by shoulders. “Time to go, you need to leave now. Go by following the path through the woods. Soldiers having a disagreement about something, I think they found out-‘

‘You, medicus, come here,’ one of the soldiers shouted at your uncle.

Your uncle gestured to you with his eyes, saying ‘go now’,

'You too!' you gasped as you realised the soldier waving his hand at you.

'Sir, he should stay with the General...' your uncle stepped in front of you to protect you.

'I said come, both of you, now,' he wasn’t asking, it was a firm order.

As you took tentative steps towards the place where the other soldiers were forming a circle beside your uncle, your heart began to beat as if it were going to burst. These were the soldiers who had just fought, and you wondered if they hurt each other, but you could not see anyone hurt or wounded.

On the contrary, they looked at you curiously, only at you.

‘That's nonsense, Dimitrus, this boy can't be a girl,' said one soldier pointing you with a small knife in his hand.

Your uncle was standing next to you, his fear having come true, his face taut with worry.

As the soldier, who you guessed was named Dimitrus, approached you, your uncle took a step in front of him, but the soldier easily overpowered him and pushed him aside. The soldier looked at your body from top to bottom. You bowed your head and clenched your fists. Your heart pounded in your chest as your breathing quickened. He yanked down your hood of your cloak with his big hands, other soldiers came nearby for a better look.

Your hair was tied up at the back of your head, and the soldier's grin widened when he noticed. He drew his dagger from its holster, and when you saw your uncle's worried face behind the soldier's formidable arm, you began to pray to all the Gods.

He grabbed your bun with his hand and cut the hairband with his dagger, your golden-brown wavy hair falling over your shoulders. The soldiers laughed and whistled. Dimitrus looked at them with a cocky smile and turned back to you.

‘Such a long hair for a aide boy, eh?’

'A girl, indeed,' said one soldier, looking at you with disbelief.

‘I told you I could smell a woman a mile away,’ he laughed, his voice booming.

'Please,' you demanded, feeling unable to do anything else. A feeling of despair took control of your whole body.

‘What is going on here?’ The burly soldier approached and noticed your new look, looking at you in astonishment. Dimitrus grabbed you by the hair and pulled you towards him. He then grabbed your chin and turned your face to Octavius.

'Look at her. You don't even know that the medicus brought a girl with him, Octavius?' And you're the general's right-hand man!’

You struggled to move your body, but he was so strong.

‘Hey, I can't see her face clearly!'

You closed your eyes tightly as someone threw wine on your face. Dimitrus wiped your face with his big fingers, rubbing roughly.

'Gods, no ordinary beauty,' looking at you like a hungry wolf, then smells your hair making you feel nauseous.

You tried to look away, but your eyes met your uncle's desperate gaze.

‘That's enough, Dimitrus, let her go, is this what you all thinking while our General lies there like that?’

You rushed to your uncle's side as his hands released your hair.

‘He's already dead, I've never seen anyone get up after being poisoned,’ he says as if he was looking forward to his death.

Octavius drew his sword with a schwing. ‘How dare you! Say that again and I'll cut your tongue off!’ he growled.

Dimitrus' followers drew their swords as well. Octavius looked at each of them with anger and disbelief. He has been betrayed.

‘You filthy rats! I'll kill you one by one!’ He waved his long sword at them.

Dimitrus grabbed your uncle by the collar, 'Start with this one. Who knows what he gave the General instead of medicine?'

‘Yes, he must be punished!’

'Punish him, Octavius!'

They were all yelling at him by raising their swords, you were thinking a way out but there wasn’t any.

‘If you won't, I will,' Dimitrus pointed his swords end at your uncle.

‘No!' you cried but your uncle stopping you with his hand.

Then, as Octavius raised his hand and was about to lunge at him, Dimitrus plunged his sword through your uncle's stomach, the poor man groaning in pain and falling to his knees, and as you ran towards him, he drew back his sword, his blood splashing in your face with the force of the draw. Your body began to shake and you felt paralysed as you watched his lifeless body fall to the ground.

'Dimitrus!' Octavius roared, ‘You've gone too far! What do you think our general will do to you when he awakens?’

You collapsed to your knees in shock, your body rigid and still, your face expressionless yet tears streaming down your cheeks.

'General? You failed to save him, you let that medicus get into his tent, you must share his fate! I will tell the emperors that this is your fault! And I think we should put the general out of his misery-'

Suddenly, an axe emerged from nowhere and plunged into Dimitrus' chest deeply. His body reeled back, shaking, then fell to the ground lying backwards, dying in a pool of blood as everyone looked at him in astonishment and panic. Blood gushed from where his chest had been split open, and when he stopped breathing, laying there as his eyes remained wide open.

They turned their head to see who had thrown the axe and they were shocked once again.

The general could barely stands near his tent, his eyes filled with rage, his gaze blazing with fury. Octavius ran to his side quickly.

'General! Thank Gods you're finally awake!’

'What's going on here, Octavius?' his voice was like a roar.

‘Sir, Dimitrus and others have attempted to mutiny.’

Acacius gave the other soldiers a deathly stare and they immediately kneeled down with their swords upside down.

'No, sir, we did not.’

'Forgive me, sir, it was Dimitrus doing.’

'Sir, please forgive me.’

You closed your uncle's eyelids with your fingers as they all begged for forgiveness. Your back was turned to the General, you didn't care if you live or die, you didn’t care about anything. You felt your whole life was already over.

'If any of you ever dare to do anything like this again,' he walked near Dimitrus’ body and pulled the axe from his chest roughly, you startled by the crunching sound coming from his bones.

'I Marcus Acacius, will make sure that he meets the same fate as this scum!'

He put them all in their place, they all nodded in fear and stood up with his gesture, bowing their heads though couldn't look him in the face.

'Now get ready, we must sail at dawn!'

‘Yes sir!’

All of them sheathing their swords, spreading around in rush.

Acacius staggered a little as they gone at his sight, his wound still hurting but he tried hard not to show them.

Octavius touched his arm, 'Sir, the Gods have spared your life but please rest a little longer.’

'Who is this man?’

You were certain he was talking about your uncle, even though your back was turned to him.

'The medicus who cured you, sir, Dimitrus got mad and killed him because he thought he couldn't save you.'

'As if we haven't lost enough medici tonight. He was wrong obviously. This man managed to cure me. I'm standing thanks to him,' he turned his head to Octavius. 'Make sure this man's body reaches his family. Let the governor know about this. They should fulfil all ritual arrangements.'

Octavius nodded, "Yes sir, I will."

Then both turned their gaze to you. 'What about this one?'

Your body was petrified, you felt the time of execution has come, you’ve never expected the last moments of your life to be like this.

‘I think this was his aide or slave sir, Dimitrus found out she was a woman, that medicus was hiding her, sir,’ he bowed his head in shame, you swallowed.

Acacius' pain returned, he groaned in pain, Octavius grabs his waist gently, "Sir, please rest, you need to get your strength back.’

'Sir!' Acacius' squire came and put his arm under his.

It was time for him to turn his back to you.

‘Since her master has died, take this girl to the other slaves, I don't want any more chaos or mishap,’ he said in a firm voice.

You wiped tears from your eyes with the back of your hand as their footsteps faded away. Two soldiers came and grabbed your arms, lifted you off the ground while the others carrying your uncle’s body. When you turned your head, glancing over your shoulder, saw the General's curly grey hairs and his well-shaped nose before he went into his tent.

Your body was filled with rage.

What you heard was only a heightening of your pain and a deepening of your hurt.

A slave? How could he say that? The one who cured him was now worthy of being a slave?

As the mid-morning sun began to reflect on the walls of Rome through the haze that filled the

harbour, the capital was preparing to experience one of the most active days in its history. Everyone who noticed the navy ships approaching the harbour from afar, citizens, subjects, foreign mission chiefs, tradesmen, civil servants, porters, all filled the entrance of the city. They were waiting to welcome General Marcus Acacius and the glorious Roman soldiers. On the deck of the large ship at the forefront of the fleet, the General sighs deeply as he looks out over his city, thanking Mars for his triumphant and healthy return.

It ten days to get from the port of Alexandria to Rome, a very difficult experience for you, travelling with captives called slaves. Most of them were Greeks and Egyptians, and the fact that the streets of the Roman capital were filled with shouts of joy was of no interest to them. On board the ship they were constantly told that the slave market in the capital was a very prestigious place, that the young girls would be well brought up by certain families, that they should stop crying, that they should pray to Jupiter to make the wealthy families could like them and buy them with high prices.

But you were not like those slaves, you were not a prisoner of war, nor was your family enslaved or poor. Your uncle was a renowned and esteemed medicus. He was a member of an affluent family. He and his wife found you on the banks of the River Nile when you were three years old. That is what they told you. The gods had not blessed them with a child, so they loved you as much as their own. You knew he wasn't your real father or uncle, but you were very happy with your life and didn't ask too many questions until he told you about that letter the night before the night that ruined your life.

As an orphan, you were brought up well by your uncle, learning all about Egyptian medicine, performing countless surgeries at his side, bringing many people back to life -including the general himself- and learning enough to become an expert. But, no one could call you as medicus because you were a woman, yet your talents were too great to be ignored. No matter who you told on this ship, no one would believe you, and even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it.

As you looked out through the small cracks between the planks of the ship, your eyes travelled over the seemingly endless sea. You couldn't stop thinking about the dream you had that night.

‘Cure him.’

Wouldn't it have been better if you haven't cure him? Perhaps your uncle would still be alive. Maybe you wouldn't be sitting on this ship now, resigned to your fate, wondering, worrying what will happen to you. Is this your reward for healing the great Roman general?

That man ruined your life, and you only did yourself a disservice by saving him.

Perhaps the gods were testing you, but what was the lesson?

You looked at the shadow of the General's fingers under the piece of cloth you had wrapped around your wrist. The color was that of violets caressed by moonlight days ago. Now, it is unmistakably that color, doesn’t hurt much anymore.

As the ship rumbled into port, you realized that it was time to accept your fate. In the dark and damp bilge of the ship, you and a girl close to your age called Decima took turns using the same swing as a bed, you liked each other very much and in desperation you became confidants. She was in her early twenties, beautiful yet you were in your late twenties, ahead of her in beauty. Her father was a rebel, probably killed by the General's men, and she was taken as captive. You told her almost everything except the letter that you’re hiding in your bag.

As soon as you stepped into the harbour, the discrimination began, the general and his men moved in the other direction, while the trader man of slaves were standing in front of you ordered you to move somewhere else.

You frowned as you saw his face in the distance over the shoulders of the people in the crowd, he looked very healthy, his body had managed to overcome the venom of the past few days and his wound has healed. You remembered how you had spent hours with your uncle trying to cure him, how you had struggled for hours to make the antidote while your arms and wrists ached with pain.

The General's face lit up with a warm smile as he waved his hand at his citizens, you were surprised to find that all your anger has vanished for a moment.

You turned your head away, looking at him would only cause you pain. He didn't look at you because he hasn't seen your face yet -well not clearly-, furthermore, you’ve never met face to face, to him you’re just a slave nothing more. Octavius however, recognised you from a distance. He was the only one who has witnessed your hard work. He was an honorable men, didn’t like to see you among the slaves, yet he has nothing to do, it was his General's order.

In the evening of that day, after the slaves were taken to the baths and then to the slave market for sale, you and Decima were taken by the slaver man to a separate cell. From outside, one could hear the sounds of a lively market, where slaves were being sold one by one. There was a great deal of interest in these new slaves from Egypt.

Slaver man appeared at the door of your cell in the market with a man over your age looks wealthy. Decima immediately stood up, but you did not. The slaver gestured with his hand, turning Decima around in the center and showing her arms, face and feet, squinting at you meanwhile.

‘Look at these strong and beautiful young girls, sir, I wouldn’t show you any poor slaves, they are both virgins, and they are very beautiful, the great Venus has bestowed her beauty on these girls. They would fetch a lot of money if they went to the market, but I thought I would show them to you first sire.’ He was blandishing much, but the man's eyes were locked on you.

‘Doesn't she have any manners? Why doesn't she stand up?’

‘You're right sir, she must be a bit sick from travelling, she will,’ he gestured to you with his hand, ‘Come on, get up, girl.’

You rolled your eyes and got up, he squeezed your arm hard to warn you first, then did everything what he had done to Decima, opening almost every part of your body for the other man to see. It was incredibly disgusting, you felt like an animal being sold at the cattle market.

‘The other one is younger, but this one is so beautiful, a rare one,’ he said, grabbed you by arm, looking at you hungrily. ‘How much do you want for this one?’

Your eyes meet with Decima in a silent exchange, as it was time to go your separate ways.

‘Eight thousand sesterces, sire.’

He pursed his lips, thinking, his fingers touching your hair mean while you were closing your eyes, praying for a miracle.

‘Ten thousand sesterces!’

A familiar voice of a man echoed through stone walls. You all turned your heads to that direction.

‘General Marcus Acacius offers ten thousand sesterces for this girl!’ Octavius’ imposing body appeared, he came towards them with his armor making a sharp noise with every step. He threw a big coin pouch to the slaver, who caught it with a big smile on his face.

‘Sold, of course,’ he was counting the coins with happy face.

Then Octavius firmly grabbed the other man's arm that was still touching you, lifted it, and pushed it away. He frowned.

‘This girl belongs to General Acacius now, sir, you must not touch her,’ he warned him gently but firmly.

As the general entered the city in his chariot, the people shouted his name. He waved his hand to them, and the streets were filled with a great enthusiasm as everyone gathered to honour the general and his soldiers. The chariot carrying him soon passed under the triumphal arch of Septimius Severus and turned towards the Curia Julia, the Senate building, where the emperors must have been waiting for him. The general's smile faded. He was tired and not looking forward to seeing them, but he would not go to his villa before visiting the emperors.

As General strode purposefully up the marble stairs, Geta and Caracella leapt down from their golden imperial thrones in excitement. As soon as Geta saw him, he opened his arms wide.

‘How can I reward Rome's greatest general?'

'By letting him catch his breath first,' Caracella smiled widely.

Acacius stopped in front of them and nodded, 'Emperors.'

'We have been eagerly awaiting for your arrival, general,' Geta clasped his hands together, looking at him with admiration.

'Speak for yourself, brother. My legs ache from sitting for so long,' Caracella said, then laughed loudly. 'But it was worth it, indeed!'

‘Indeed!’ They both laughed once more, but Caracella looking at his brother a bit strange way.

It was hard to tell if Caracella wanted to embrace Geta or if wanted to take his life right then and there. The relationship between the two of them was quite distorted.

The general rolled his eyes, he was used to these two whiny emperors half of his age bickering at each other all the time, he sighed in frustration at having to put up with them when he could easily take both their lives with a single stroke of his sword. Unfortunately, this unpleasant situation had only just begun.

‘We heard that you were poisoned, how did it feel?’ Geta looked at him with wide eyes and smile.

The news must have reached the emperors before the general had even boarded the ship.

'Painful, your highness,' Acacius stated, a shadow passing over his brown eyes as he remembered the pain again.

'I'm sure it was, it must have been an interesting experience.’ Caracella crossed his arms; smiling just like his brother.

‘Cobra or viper?’

‘Aspis, highness, the viper type.’

‘Oh, I won!’ Geta jumped for joy and gestured to Caracella with his hand, imitating a snake.

Caracella ignored him looking at the General.

‘The rebels must have quite a sense of humour, poisoning a Roman General carrying Medusa on his chest with a snake, quite ironic,’ he touched Medusa on General's armor with his index finger.

Acacius frowned while looking at him, ‘They certainly do, they murdered all our medici mercilessly, fortunately the great Asclepius sent his help, my men brought another medicus from city was able to cure me, it is thanks to him that I can stand here in front of you, highness,’ Acacius remembered the memory when he was unsure whether it was a dream or not but he could not get out of his mind the fingers that touched his lips, the owner of those hazel eyes that came to his aid when his throat was dry from thirst. But it couldn't be medicus he thought, it had to be someone with thin fingers, someone with beautiful eyes he had never seen before. Maybe, since he was too close to death, it was a dream or a goddess has appeared to him, he couldn't be sure.

The first thing he remembers is opening his eyes and grabbing her wrist with his survival instinct. He thought it was a strange looking young man in a hood, maybe another rebel had come to kill him again, but then he heard her voice and thought his goddess had come to heal him. He was in so much pain and seeing hallucinations that he couldn't tell if it was a dream or not. But couldn’t get rid of those thoughts since days.

The emperors didn't seem to care much about the medicis the general was talking about, or how he had recovered, and Acacius seemed bored as they continued to joke with each other.

‘Mother,' Geta ran to her as he noticed the Empress approaching, extends his arm for her.

Julia Domna took his arm as she coming towards Acacius, whispering something into Geta’s ear, without taking her eyes off the General.

‘My lady,’ Acacius nodded to her.

Domna's smile was like Caracella's, you could never guess what she was thinking.

‘General, how good it is to see you return triumphant once more. Rome salutes you, and I embrace you,’ she approached him with open arms and put her hands Acacius’ board shoulders.

Caracella sat back on his throne, a bored look on his face.

‘My Lady, the honour is mine,’ the general said, bowing his head.

‘We shall sacrifice 1000 bulls to honor our triumphant mother!’ Geta clapped his hands excitedly, ‘Let's have a great feast tonight!’

‘Highness, let's give the General some time to rest, he must be tired from the battle,’ Domna removed her hands from the General's shoulders but kept her eyes on him.

Caracella let out a high, shrill laugh that echoed through the white marble columns. Geta sat on his throne and scowled.

‘Marcus, walk with me,’ the Empress turned round, gestured to him.

Acacius sighed, he didn't want to be alone with her, but he had to. Domna walked ahead of him, hands clasped behind her back, he followed her slowly.

‘My sons are glad to see you again, even if they have no idea how fortunate they are to have you serving them.’

'It is my duty to serve Rome.’

She paused and smiled, watching the water in the pool shimmer in the sunlight, the glow reflecting off her bright skin, her expression was difficult to read.

'I think you have a talent for survival.’

She sounded dissatisfied. 'After all, you trained under Maximus, you must have learned a lot from him.’

He looked away, 'I owe where I am today to the remarkable fighting skills he taught me, he was an honourable man, the greatest general Rome has ever seen,' Acacius' eyes were fixed on the great Temple of Venus between the eastern edge of the Forum Romanum and the Colosseum.

Domna looked at him with a feeling between admiration and concern.

‘He, like you, lived to serve Rome, even if he had to kill Commodus,’ she said, and even little children could catch the obvious implication in her voice.

Acacius held his ground, his eyes roaming the curves of the statue of Venus.

‘But unlike him, you are loyal to the emperors, I can be sure of that, can't I?

He turned his head towards her, but did not look at her. His eyes were now on the two spoilt emperors who were talking animatedly to each other between the columns. 'As long as Rome is prosperous for all her subjects, I will be loyal to them, my lady.'

Domna laughed loudly, 'Ah, that's why I want you in the Senate, how long will you refuse?

'I am only a soldier, politics is not my business, nor should it be. Consuls in the Senate -'

‘Those old foxes live in abundance and do nothing, the person who has done Rome the greatest service should be in the Senate.’ Domna glanced over her shoulder at her sons. 'I am concerned that Macrinus has no equal in the Senate and that Caracella dominates him, perhaps if you are in there, you will gain his trust.’

'Your Highness...' He looked at her shaking his head as no.

Domna looked at Acacius, this time with a serious expression on her face, 'For the sake of Rome you must be especially careful with Caracella, as her mother even I find it hard to get my way with him, he is not like Geta, he is a hard-headed child.’

Acacius looked at Caracella whose back was turned, of course he knew this very well, for a moment he thought that he was the real threat to Rome, not the enemy soldiers or the others.

‘Anyway, you should go to your villa and rest, you will have time to think about this alone,’ she said with a forced smile, then turned around to go to her sons.

After praying in the temple of Venus, Acacius walked out, and as he descended the steps of the temple, he felt a stinging pain where his wound had been, the poison had completely gone from his body, but it had left its trace behind.

Octavius was lost in thought as he has leaned against the side of the carriage waiting for him, quickly stood up when he noticed him.

‘Sir.’

‘I see you don't miss your home, as you're still here,' Acacius said as he descended the last step. He got into the carriage and climbed in to sit beside him. Acacius was quite tired so he lay down on the seat, the fact that he felt so comfortable with Octavius was because of their long friendship, he was his most trusted man, more than just a friend, like a brother.

'Are you going to tell me what's troubling you?’ Acacius covered his face with his arm, but he could feel the tension in him.

'Sir, the girl.’

'Oh, I see, a girl? Have you fallen in love with a girl?

'No, that's not it,' Octavius felt embarrassed as he remembers your face. 'That poor girl, It doesn't seem fair that she should be with those slaves, sir, you are an honourable man, but-'

Acacius lifted his arm from his face and looked at him, the cart swaying as it moved along the stony roads.

'The girl that medicus hid? Why do you care so much for her? Is there something I should know?’

'After all, they worked so hard together to cure you, perhaps you should have at least let her go home.’

‘Together? What do you mean?' Acacius sat up, his eyebrows furrowed.

Octavius bowed his head.

'Sir, I made a mistake, it was my fault for letting them into your tent, I don't know how I could have been so careless even after the assassination, forgive me...'

Acacius raised his hand.

'Slow down, we will talk about your mistake later, you are saying that girl entered my tent and cured me? How?’

'I didn't look closely at her face and I didn't know she was a woman maybe because of her outfit but I made a terrible mistake, I should’ve known, forgive me sir.’ He bowed his head once more but it made Acacius more angry.

'You haven't answered my question, Octavius,' his voice was loud.

'Yes sir, she did her best to cure you, sir, the girl and Medicus worked hard to produce antivenom all night.’

Acacius was surprised when he realized that he hadn't dreamed that night. He was glad to learn that the owner of those eyes was a real person. But then he thought that she might be on the slave market by now, about to be sold to someone else.

‘Stop the carriage!’ He yelled.

The coachman immediately did as he was told and pulled hard on the horses' harnesses, the horses howling and stamping their hooves on the ground.

'Sir?' Octavius raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'Go and find the girl, I want to see her at my villa tonight, do you understand? Acacius tossed him a pouch full of coins.

Octavius smiled, ‘Yes, sir.’

please comment, reblog and like if you enjoyed so far thank youu,

All Chapters List

[aquasoftware]

FIVE STAR MEAL…★ ★ ★ ★ ★!!

Synopsis: Married to the world's most judgmental chef also meant you feared him going anywhere near your not-so-shaved pussy.

CW: Not proofread ngl 😬, Chef! Geto, c*nnilingus, fingering, spit, praise, hair pulling, thigh hickeys, kissing, dirty talk, degrading (once), squirting, tatted!Reader, insecure! Reader, established relationship, hotel setting, you have a hairy cooter in this! Lmk if I missed sum!!

FT: Drabble.

WC: 1k || Paring : Geto x F!Reader || M.L

When your husband is globally known for having a nasty attitude as a Michelin chef, of course, you were gut-wrenchingly nervous to let him eat you out.

Every "What if?" Always scurried across your scattered brain whenever Suguru pleaded to give you oral, which you brushed aside for another day until the two of you were on vacation for your 1-year anniversary, somewhat far away from the girls, while they were at your parent's house.

Praying he wouldn't treat you like he did to other chefs that he worked with, spitting out their dishes and telling them that gobbling their food was like eating shitty toxic waste, eventually you at last mustered up the courage to let him know what you really desired.

"You sure you're not gonna mind it being hairy, or.. what if I taste bad..?" You gulped, slightly grinding teeth as fidgety eyes bounced from side to side, spouting questions at Suguru left and right.

Oh? That's what this is about; this only made him abhorrently offended; you’d think he’d judge his sweet wife and her semi-unexplored jungle. You've let him finger you a couple of times, but each time was bare since being hairy made you profoundly self-conscious. Besides that, Suguru definitely snuck a taste on his fingers, although remembering it tasting like nothing, he still was prepared to eat your pussy as if it were an addictive drug.

"Trust me, baby, I'm going to take care of you real good; you're gonna wish you let me give you head sooner." Suguru smugly reassured, folding his arms as a devious grin marched in on his face.

And whew! He wasn't lying whatsoever, going slow at first, pressing tender sensual kisses at the dime-sized tattoos in between your thighs, while you rested on your elbows vigilant as to what he was doing exactly, breath hitching whenever Suguru's smooth lips trickled closer to your core.

Your husband began to harshly suck at the sensitive skin, creating dark marks on each thigh, causing you to quietly yelp, achieving a light snicker from out of him running his soft hands all over your body as he exhaled hot, steamy breath upon your aching pussy.

"Sugu..." Whining at the way his breath grazed your lower region, subtly asking for more, too impatient for anymore foreplay, soon satisfied enough, he finally licked a thin stripe across your clit, forcing your eyes to instantly shut.

His tongue lapped at your pussy as if it were nectar, eating it like he was on death row. Feeling his wet muscle slithering above your bundle of nerves in circles passionately sucking it every now and then; body uncontrollably writhing underneath Suguru’s face.

“Oh fffuck.. keep going, mhmm..” Your lips murmured words traveling straight to your husband’s ear, providing the extra motivation Suguru needed to devour that cunt whole.

He didn’t care the next person would call him disgusting for having lots of pube hair tickle his pale nose; either way, he was still going to swish his head side to side rapidly, enjoying the way your hands found solace in his raven tresses half near yanking it out of his skull developing pathetic whimpers against your throbbing pussy.

Sort of becoming embarrassed how even little vibrations from his moans led to your back arching, not at all bothered by the cruel chilly hotel air conditioning slapping close to your fiercely warm body way too in the moment of Suguru’s lewd sounds slurping down a five-star meal.

Hoping the two of you weren’t too loud during quiet hours in the lavish hotel, there was a huge attempt to keep your poor cries reduced, but you struggled, especially when Suguru covertly added fingers without warning.

Opening droopy eyes, you stared at the way this man had two fingers inserted inside, pushing them back and forth in a come here motion.“Haah haahh, shittt, u—use your fingers like that.” Mewling as loud as a siren, his slender fingers wriggling inward your mushy tightened walls felt like heaven, such in a daze that your brain persuaded you to believe that angels were singing to you.

You swore nobody could pull him away from your cunt, but he lifted his head up, panting as if he ran laps around the world. “Dirty girl, you like when I curl my fingers like this?” Suguru serenely spoke betwixt breaths, mildly biting his lip while his almond eyes traced your frame, in love with how the cream on his fingers oozed onto strands of hair from your lower lips.

Throwing your head back towards the mattress, unfortunately too engulfed in pleasure to even answer an inquiry like that right now, his fingers continuously targeted your g-spot, resulting in a deafening sing song squeal that echoed all around the spacey hotel room.

“Hmm, I think I’ve found your sweet spot, baby…” Your man cooed as freckled, sprawled-out goosebumps formed on your arms, the tone of his voice turning you on even more while he proceeded to plunge his fingertips at the notorious spongy spot, unable to help but slam your legs around his head.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt like hell, yet his drive to please his lady was stronger than the pain pounding as of now. “Aht, aht, aht, spread those pretty legs, love.” He sternly ordered, looking prideful when you immediately listened, snapping your legs back wide like a can opener.

“O-oh my godddd aaah S—suguru,” Your lips wailed out; his spit stabbing your pussy running down your plump labia, getting more and more sloppy. Suguru decided to chase after your clit once more, not knowing all these sensations attacking you at once sent you over the edge earlier than expected.

“I can’t ‘m gonna…” You slurred as Suguru’s concentrated palm rubbed against your entrance, driving your eyes to roll back, legs frantically shaking as if they’d been electrocuted. So much was going on at once; you knew he encouraged an orgasm, but you couldn’t understand what he was saying due to his fading out voice, entirely overwhelmed with arousal. The fiery pool in your stomach snapped, bucking up into his face not noticing juices bursted all over your husband.

Boosting Suguru’s confidence causing you to realize he most certainly wasn’t going to let up unless you squirted again on the white damp sheets.

9/1/24 12:46 pm

dividers by cafe kitsune + @/rookthornesartistry

may or may not be inspired by Gordon Ramsay ☹️ leave me alone okay…

[aprilcolours]

blackheart: part two

part one - part three - part four

—

Two days after the Battle at Lydden, the campground was abuzz with news. ‘The Northmen are here.’ ‘The Stark has arrived.’ ‘Did you hear? The greybeards have joined camp.’ The whispers were unavoidable as Visenya broke her morning fast. She thought it rather funny that men at war gossiped all the same as their wives at home. 

As she began to braid her hair (a wartime style like her mother’s), she thought of a certain young lord who had taken up a pressing residence in her mind. 

She worried that the kiss had been rash, impulsive, and ill-conceived. Perhaps I have let the fire in my blood get the better of me, she fretted.

Visenya carried a great weight on her shoulders. Her mother was relying on her to be successful on campaign, while her father was off gallivanting heedlessly. It was of the utmost importance that these Riverlanders respect her authority as commander and be brought to heel. Not an easy feat as a woman. I cannot afford to give even a single reason for doubt in my capability. 

It was these worries that had caused her to rebuff all attempts Benjicot Blackwood had made at flirtation since the kiss. He had tried to tease her, or goad her, or even on one fateful attempt last night: find her alone again. Like the day at Lydden, he had approached as she landed after scouting on Vermithor. She had said immediately, before she could change her mind, ‘After one does battle, they can retain a sort of thrill-seeking madness to expend the remainder of their blood-letting energy. It is common enough, but regrettable. My sole focus at this time is on securing my mother’s throne. I can consider nothing else.’ She did not meet his eyes as she spoke, looking instead over his shoulder before forcing herself to walk steadfastly away, and ignoring the flash of hurt writ across his face. 

It pained her, as she recalled the morning after, her braid now finished. She could still feel the ghost of him on her lips. Warm and yearning. 

We must all make sacrifices in war, she assured herself. Visenya II took a deep breath, steeled her shoulders, and stepped out of her tent to find her place among the war council. 

As the morning’s gossip foretold, a new broad figure stood at the table. Cregan Stark was a large man, an impression made only larger by the cloak of furs clasped round his shoulders. The familiar lords bowed, but surprisingly, the Northerner chose instead to drop to a knee before her. Lord Stark took her hand and kissed the back of it, declaring in a low voice “It is an honor, your highness.”

Visenya did her best to mask her amusement, though her eyes did widen at the display. 

“Lord Stark, so glad you could join us,” she responded, to some chuckles from the other council members. She looked around the table and caught Ben’s eye. His expression was dark, his usual grin now morphed into something more like a sneer. She looked away quickly and began the day’s deliberations. 

—

Near midday, the council adjourned momentarily to see to matters within their banners. Visenya used the time to discern the state of the troops, observing carefully to ensure standards were being met. 

Since the victory, certain soldiers had taken it upon themselves to establish a training field. Knights from differing regions clashed steel against steel, trying their skills against one another. She observed the sparring, face impassive. It seemed silly to waste such energy, the war is only beginning, she thought. 

“Does the fighting not please you my lady?” Ben’s taunting voice rang out nearby. 

His face held the promise of mischief. She was immediately wary, raising her signature unimpressed brow. He took a moment, almost seeming to check that all the gathered were listening, before he stook a step out into the yard and said,

“Well of course, a princess is not trained in such matters, not when you have a dragon to fight in your stead.” He gestured jauntily about like he had made a great joke. 

The whole camp stuttered to a standstill. Utter silence across the plain.

How. Dare. You. 

Visenya’s blood turned to ice in her veins, cold hard rage bottoming out her senses. Her face must’ve done something terrifying because every man in the near vicinity took a few steps back. 

And the scoundrel still just grinned his lopsided grin. 

You’ll pay for that Blackwood, she swore in her mind. 

“Is that so?” she asked, voice sharp and quiet like a shard of glass. She stalked slowly to the other edge of the training yard across from him, her steps measured and predatory. The knights gathered there scrambled back, dragging their equipment hastily. 

Back still turned to him, Visenya looked out upon the troops but did not see them. Only red. With nought a thought for the propriety of the situation, he seems to have that effect quite often doesn’t he, she reached to her back and unsheathed the two blades holstered there. 

Then finally, with a Valyrian shortsword in each hand, she turned and looked the Blackwood in the eye.

“To first blood then?” she asked, tone as mild as if she was asking about the weather. 

“To first blood,” he confirmed, eyes gleaming. And he attacked.

He was an explosion given form. A savage whirl of motion and violence, seemingly without end and tireless. It was a hacking, slashing, sort of style— unpredictable, but not so crass as to be reckless. The movements had a deceptive sort of tightness to them: where it appeared at a glance that such rabid fervor might leave his flanks open; he was guarded and compact. 

All this, Visenya gleaned as she danced circles round his brutal strikes. She parried and sidestepped, studying his every movement like a cat might watch a bird. He was a force, made for chaos and to mow down men in great swathes. But she was finely tuned, a crafted blade made for precision. 

He was good, that much was sure. But Father is better. 

She waited until his left foot turned out slightly, as she had noticed it did when he lunged two handedly, and with a swift precise kick she knocked him flat on his back. Between one blink and the next, she had a boot on his chest and her two blades crossed at his throat. 

There was a moment of utter silence again. Before the camp began their raucous applause. The men were shouting her name, her house words, roaring their approval, but she had eyes only for one. 

Ben, his head in the dirt, smiled. A real, genuine, one, not a sneer or smirk. She did her best to remain stoic even as she felt her own smugness tug at her lips. She picked her boot off his chest and pulled her swords from their position, transferring them into one hand so she might offer the other to him. 

He took it, and did not let go as he stood up. Instead, he raised it to his lips and bowed, his dark searing gaze never leaving hers as he, slowly, imploringly, kissed the back of her hand. 

Seven hells. Visenya suppressed a shiver. She could not tell whether she was still angry or wanted to laugh. She forced herself to recover quickly.

“You have a boot-print on your shirt, my lord,” she teased. Then she promptly turned around and looked at the gathered spectators to call,

“Since the situation has arisen, is there any other who would challenge a duel?” She turned in a circle, watching some soldiers jostle each other forward and others shy away. 

“Good Ser Tully,” she addressed, “perhaps a knight can make a better showing on behalf of the Riverlands.” 

The knight laughed humbly and stepped forward, “I can certainly try my lady.”

—

Visenya sparred with four men, challengers each from different houses. She remained for the better part of the day, offering advice, comparing strategy, and watching other matches. As the sun fell low in the sky, the group finally dispersed. As she made her way back to her tent, she felt a familiar presence step into stride with her. She did not look at Ben as she asked,

“Are you so troubled that you must resort to insulting me the moment another man dares to exist in my presence?”

“No, my lady” he protested, trying to make light of the situation, though he did appear slightly chastened. “Twas simply a ruse so that I might kiss you. I thought you might find it amusing.”

“Amusing? Amusing that you have so loudly begun a pissing contest with the Warden of the North?” she questioned incredulously, temper rising again. She stopped walking and turned to face him. 

Men, she thought angrily, never consider the consequences of their impulses. She felt all her worries about being respected arise within her like a great wave.

“I—” he began, but was swiftly cut off. 

“I will remind you Lord Blackwood, that my mother the Queen has final jurisdiction in the matter of my hand. And she has not yet even heard word of your proposal let alone deigned to consider it,” Visenya bit out, anger giving way to something more like distress. 

She heaved a shaky breath and took a moment to collect herself. He looked thoroughly chastened now. Squaring her shoulders, she pulled her stoicism about her again, declaring,

“Should you presume to mock me publicly again, Raventree Hall will find it has urgent need for its liege Lord to return from his time abroad.”

With that, she turned to stomp away but was halted by a firm hand at her wrist. Turning viciously, she began, “You dare—” 

“Did you speak truly?” Ben asked, voice uncharacteristically timid. “That you regret it?”

She was stricken into silence. He has a habit of surprising me, doesn’t he? Emotions warred within her, crashing against one another like the Narrow Sea. But thinking about his smile today, with her blade to his throat, she could not find it within herself to lie. So she simply shook her head no. 

The Blackwood let a breath out through his nose, like he had been holding it, and pressed a quick hand to her face. His thumb flitted over her cheek once, an echo of his roaming pulling hands. For the briefest of moments, Visenya allowed herself to close her eyes and press her face into his palm. 

“My mother is depending on me,” she whispered, a confession she did not intend to let escape. “I cannot fail her.” 

“I understand,” he replied simply, voice also hushed. 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. A long tender beat. Two. 

When he pulled away, the look in Benjicot Blackwood’s eyes was something close to grim determination. He backed away and strode into the night, cloaked in purpose.

—

A/N: okay so turns out that was just some random blackwood but we are going to ignore that and continue in the delusion bc its fun

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical graphic depictions

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

You were running on coffee and willpower, and both were in short supply. You cradled what you promised would be your last cup in your hands, feeling your fried nerves inch closer to bursting into flames with every bitter sip. 

Azriel had one arm looped protectively around your waist, propping you up against his side like an overworked bookend. You both sat huddled over the map you’d spent the last day and night laboring over until you could picture every stark line pressed behind shuttered eyelids like an afterimage. Until your cramped hands shook while clutching the mug like a vice. 

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Nesta, Lucien, and Cassian similarly hovered over the innocuous sheet of paper. Pale parchment glow flickering over expressions of intense thought. 

You traced the outline of the lake, its form vaguely star shaped and pointing abstractly towards the north, south, east, and west.

“Here.” You tapped the northeast edge where a greyed out huddle of shapes formed the forest and a collection of scribbles marked the Death god’s home close to the waters. The lines swirled in your mind like a thousand snakes locked in battle, swallowing each other whole and getting eaten alive in an endless, vicious cycle. 

Koschei’s portion of the continent lay flat and unassuming, seemingly vulnerable with the flatlands peering at his back with limitless entry points for enemies from the Continent. But the seductive ease of access through that region was a guise. Koschei was a death god, and a powerful one at that. Magic grew in and out of the soil there and what walked those woods had a strange habit of toeing the line between life and death.

The western corners swam in seas of grasslands, flat and open and unprotected save for the expanse of water a mile wide. 

And the lake. The lake was the most curious thing of all. A black shape on paper, still and foreboding. 

You knew from Andrian’s memories that enchanted swans flocked there — women layered with curses that kept them bound to the region in animal form — but nothing else. No creatures floundered in the salty dark. No animals came to drink from it as if they could sense the power that tainted it with decay. 

“The boundaries of the Koschei’s power lie somewhere along here.” You pointed to the lazy line sketched down. “But I wouldn’t trust it. When Andrian was first sent off from the lake he crossed the plains towards one of the harbor towns on the coast and he felt that Koschei’s influence scaled with the distance away from the source of his power.” 

“Any weak points? Places we could slip in unnoticed?” Feyre’s eyes scanned the page, reimagining your weak swirls of ink into something more layered. Something with more meaning that could only come about from the mind of an artist and a warrior. 

You pointed to one of the star points and then to another toward the south. “Here and here. Don’t ask me how and don’t ask me why but these are the only two blind spots. Andrian used to sneak away from Koschei’s house to these two places.”

“To do what?” Cassian asked. He lumbered towards the back of the war room, easily peering over everyone’s shoulders to the flattened parchment and eyeing the wooden pieces strewn across the map, his own piece being tipped with a glistening red stone. 

“To plan his escape.” 

A hush fell over the room, thick and suffocating. 

The boy had never succeeded.

Feyre’s lips flattened to a pale line, the air around her reverberating with heat as the temperature in the room rose — a drop of Autumn’s power magnified. She nodded to the second map, this one gathered from Azriel’s contacts on the Continent. Whereas your map had laid out Koschei’s land in detail, Azriel’s was suspiciously empty where the lake was concerned. The two fit together like puzzle pieces. “What’s the nearest harbor town?”

“Tournnes.” Azriel replied without needing to look down. You’d memorized one map, he’d memorized the other. “It’s a small fishing village located twenty-three miles to the southwest. Most of the inhabitants are men that come and go with the season and travel west from Slairn and Friesieg. It will be empty this time of year.” The fish would have gone south in search of warmer waters. Even here the Sidra had turned frigid, crusts of ice lapping up against grey sand shores. 

Cassian shook his head, examining the map with a scowl. “There’s poor coverage getting from Tournnes to Koschei. And an abandoned town’s too obvious a place to hide any soldiers. It’d be better to come in from the east, through the woods.”

“Then we’d need to take the long way around Koschei’s territory.” Lucien argued back, “Our soldiers would need to trek through foreign lands for weeks and we’d lose any advantage Tarquin could give us by staying close to the coast.” 

“You can’t trust those woods,” you gasped, your eyes flashing with fear that didn’t wholly belong to you. 

Never enter those woods. Henna had once warned her Andrian. Never. Do you understand me?

Azriel tightened his hold on you, pressing his lips into your hair to brush against your ear. “Breathe, my love. Breathe.” 

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped. 

It was a heavy burden carrying the memories of others. Like a weight tied around your belly that hadn’t been properly woven into flesh. Something both part and apart from you. And you’d been feeling too many of Andrian’s memories in the past week since his death. 

Silence flung itself over growing irritation and anxiety as everyone circled back to the same conclusion. 

They wouldn’t be able to bring their armies abroad. And with limited numbers, brute strength would only go so far when forced to bring a fight to a foreign land against a foreign god. This would be decided by few. It would be as intimate as lovers. As ruthless as enemies. 

“There’s still the other plan.” Nesta reminded them, glancing first at Feyre and you with the faintest of nods. 

“I hate that plan, Nes.” Cassian gripped the back of her wing-backed chair and she reached up to take his hand in her own. She looked like a queen in her own right — harsh, pragmatic, unwavering. And he her mirror — a roguish knight, rough and wild and raw. 

“I know. Unfortunately for you, it’s the best one we’ve got.” 

“It’s the only one we’ve got.” Mor said with a sigh, rubbing her temples to alleviate the ache there. “We’re asking for a blood bath one way or the other.” 

“Ione is still with us.” Rhys squeezed his cousin’s knee. “Without her, he can be killed.” 

“But for how long, Rhys? How long until he finds someone else? Some other way?”

The question hung in the air like an ax ready to fall. An invisible clock ticking its way towards doom. Koschei had read the book’s contents. He had to know the secret to freeing himself was sheltered in Ione’s veins. So long as she was alive and breathing she was a threat as much as she was a tantalizing prize for him to tear his teeth into. 

Feyre’s fingernails clicked on the glossy tabletop, eyes narrowed in on that splash of black on paper. Through the golden string tied to her lower ribs, she felt the tug of her mate’s silent agreement. Her eyes flickered upward for a brief moment, as if she could see through the layers of the House to the skies above. “For as long as we have Ione, we have the upper hand. But we can’t rely on it forever.” She looked at you, “ We go with the first plan. It will have to be enough.” 

You shivered. 

Four years ago, when the Day Court had first opened its borders to foreigners from other Courts, you’d encountered a male in the market. He’d been young and reckless and glamoured himself to live amongst the humans for six months. In that time, he’d learned their version of magic — the sleight of hand tricks and elaborate games of misdirection humans played on one another. Caped entertainers bedazzling crowds with obvious moves, while the real work happened just out of frame. 

You thought of him now. You pictured him in the marketplace as he made a hand-painted playing card disappear from his hand into the fold of his suit jacket, only to reappear under an overturned teacup. 

Yes. 

It would have to be enough. 

The crisp blade flashed in the dull light as you moved your feet back and forth in a practiced dance. 

Left, left, right, duck, keep your wrist straight and slice up. Just like Azriel had instructed you. He stood off the narrow mat, hazel eyes tracing every slow movement of yours with a critical gaze. 

“Practice makes permanence.” He’d reminded you earlier. “Get it right first, then we’ll worry about speed.” 

Magic hovered over the House of Wind’s training gym, warping the air like a soap bubble as it shielded you from the frigid rain. Even so, the scent of petrichor and the cleanliness of frosted wind hung close to warn of the storm churning its way down from the north, carrying with it the promise of rainfall or the first true flakes of snow. 

How poetic that winter should come with death chasing its heels while you were learning a dozen ways to kill a man. 

“Here.” Azriel took your wrist in a loose grip, arching your arm and sticking the point of the knife into the training dummy’s jugular. Hay crinkled and burst out from the burlap covering instead of blood and you stepped away, locating the points in the liver, the lungs, the heart, the throat, under the arms, and more. Gruesome things made digestible by the motionless, fake body propped up on wooden poles. 

You didn’t need to imagine what it would feel like for your blade to meet flesh. 

Your arms ached. Hot, unfamiliar stretches of muscle trembling while slick with sweat. You could taste salt on your tongue as Azriel repeated himself. 

“Be precise. Be quick if you can. Then run like hell.” 

Incapacitation and speed. Those were the only two things you could rely on if things went south on the Continent. 

Precise. Quick. Run.

“Emphasis on run,” You muttered beneath your breath. You adjusted your feet to match Azriel’s stance, feeling the strength of his muscles close to your body and imagining some of that power seeping into the ground for you to drink up. 

The corner of his mouth twitched, then rose in a smile. “Exactly.” He stepped in, hands twisting your hips to be straight and then drifting up to your wrist. “Too much.” He corrected your bones with a feather-light touch. He wasn’t smiling anymore. 

It should have been romantic. Him touching you like this with his front pressed against your back and his breath sliding over your skin as he taught you to wield a knife. Instead his insides churned relentlessly. Visions of you, blood-splattered and motionless on the ground, flashed through his mind. He’d be damned if he let that happen again. 

You practiced on him next. Blunt, stone knife gripped in your hands as he moved in slow-motion. Azriel must have had everything custom made for you. The balance felt right in your hands, the movement as fluid as your awkward limbs could manage. 

You clasped a hand around the back of his neck, dragging him forward as you swung up. 

Where the head goes, the body will follow.

He didn’t so much as grunt as the stone wedged itself into his ribs. 

You locked eyes with him and saw his pupils blown wide as a doe’s. “Good.��� He murmured. “Again.” 

On and on you went for hours, Azriel’s panic fueling the training he put you through, as if he could fit a hundred years of combat into a handful of hours. 

You grunted when Azriel easily flipped you over onto your back, a scarred hand catching the nape of your neck so your head wouldn’t slam into the floor. The knife slipped out from your sweaty fingers, skittering away and disappearing beneath one of the weapons racks along the wall. You breathed heavily beneath him, feeling the grit of the ground and the sweat sliding into your hair and the leather brushing your chest with every breath he took. 

In a real fight, Azriel would have killed you a thousand times over and he knew it. There was not a single moment where you could have saved yourself. 

You saw the tell tale flicker in his eyes, the tensing of his jaw before he gritted his teeth and swore beneath his breath. 

You felt shame seep into your stomach again. “Az—”

“I want you to take my memories,” he said. “Everything I’ve learned over 500 years.” 

Metal whispered against leather as a tendril of shadow retrieved the knife and slid it into the thigh sheath Azriel had tied around your legs only hours ago. It felt strange to have such an unfamiliar weight against your thighs. To know that only leather kept the wicked blade from slicing you to the bone. 

“We’ve been over this before, Azriel. I can take however many memories I want from you until I can picture every way to take down an enemy in my mind’s eye. But that doesn’t mean my body will obey or follow through correctly. Knowing things mentally isn’t the same thing as knowing things physically.”

Azriel huffed in frustration, dropping one hand to your waist like he often did and gripping the flesh there to ground him. 

“If we had more time—”

“When this is over we’ll have more time.” 

If I make it. 

Because if there was anyone who would survive what was to come. It was Azriel. And you could find a great deal of comfort in that.

Azriel must have read your doubt because his eyes hardened and his hands came up to cup your jaw. “We will have more time. We’ll have time for everything, do you understand me?”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want. We’ll travel the Courts. I’ll take you dancing and—”

“You’ll teach me a dozen new ways to kill someone?” 

“Exactly.”

“Should I start keeping a tally?” 

“If that would help, then yes.” He dipped his head down, kissing you firmly on the lips, the taste salty and warm to the touch. Kissing you came easy now. Touches were a comforting drug he craved daily. 

“If things go wrong—” He whispered, flicking a strand of hair out of your eyes. “Promise me you’ll find me.” 

You blinked up at him, tracing fragments of gold in his eyes. 

“Find you,” you echoed, your voice tinged with sadness. “You’re not going to convince me to run?”

He laughed bitterly. “I know you too well, my love. You wouldn’t listen even if I did. If anything, it would make you want to stay and fight even more, just to prove me wrong.“ “Then is this some reverse psychology? You tell me the opposite of what you want, so I end up doing what you intended all along?”

“You’re thinking too deeply about this.” He slid his arms around the small of your back, dropping his weight until you were flush against him. Until you could feel his heart beating beneath his skin in time to yours. “Find me, so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.” 

You caressed his cheek, the coarse bandages he’d wound around your wrists and knuckles scratching the skin of his jaw and the faint stubble that had grown there over sleepless nights. “I promise I’ll find you, Azriel. We’re better together anyways.” 

He could never disagree with you. He lifted you back onto your feet, kissing your forehead. “Three more drills, then we’ll be done for the day.” 

He made you run five. The bastard.

You’d dreamed of what might come. Nightmares filled with glassy-eyed children and skeletal forests where the dead roamed free. A black lake with stones of bleached bone to fill your lungs and choke the life out of you. 

You wanted to make Azriel proud. You wanted to be the kind of warrior who could match him physically, not just mentally. The kind of female he’d never have to worry about protecting in that way. But violence had never been beaten into your bones and you could only hope that the skills you did possess would see you through to the end. 

You and Azriel would make it. You’d all make it. 

Some way. 

Somehow. 

Then there would be time for everything you had ever wanted and everything you’d never had the courage to ask for.

You woke up to a world shivering beneath a dusting of snow. Frost creeped up the windowsill, trying to slither inside before the House’s magic burned it away. A grey, ashen sky hung low over the mountains, mist blowing over and gathering in valleys until they were transformed into pools of smoke. 

So this is it. You thought wearily, tasting the change in the air. Winter’s finally here to choke the world into submission. 

You burrowed further under Azriel’s wings, chasing the heat that rolled off his skin. When you looked up at his eyes they were already trained on the weather, some similar tangle of thoughts running through his mind that had his grip around your waist tightening. 

“The other death gods. Have you met any of them, Az?” You whispered your question into the hollow of his neck, feeling the blood rushing beneath your lips until he answered.

“I’ve met a fair few. The Bone Carver, Stryga, and Bryaxis joined our side in the final battle against Hybern and Nesta was equivalent in power when she first emerged from the Cauldron.” 

“Nesta?” You asked questionably. 

She was a collection of sharp edges wrapped in silk and cunning, but a death god? 

Azriel smiled ever so slightly. “You didn’t know her then, but she was a terror to behold. You could feel her presence in a room like a knife in your back or a flame licking at your heels so hold it starts to freeze. Only Cassian was foolish and lovestruck enough to approach her at the time.” 

You tried to imagine it — Cassian’s wild, borderline arrogant mannerisms going toe-to-toe against Nesta’s magnified sharp grace. “That sounds about right.” 

“Feyre knows the most about the death gods. Has come face to face with the most. Rhys sent her into the Weaver’s cabin to retrieve her engagement ring — don’t give me that look, my love, I don’t understand it either — and she’s the one who convinced The Bone Carver and Bryaxis to fight for us.” 

“Feyre has a penchant for endearing herself to monsters.” 

Azriel smirked, pearly teeth flashing. “You have no idea.” Then he said something that stuck with you. “The Bone Carver was especially close to her.” 

Anytime the Bone Carver — Thanatos — was mentioned, you could only think of Bethsevah. The one person who had ever looked upon his true face and never flinched.

“How so?” 

Shadows swarmed around his ears, as much a sign of his thinking as it was a sign that whispers beyond your own understanding were reaching him. 

“When Feyre met with the Bone Carver, he made a bargain that he’d only fight for her if she could descend into the Court of Nightmares and bring back an enchanted mirror without going mad. Feyre said she saw her true form when she looked into her reflection, and that it was only by accepting this form that she was able to keep the madness at bay. The Bone Carver was impressed with her and pledged his loyalty to her from then on.” Azriel shook his head, wings flaring out in another sign of his thinking. “It never made sense to me why a being like him would even make that bargain to begin with.” 

“Even death gods can be surprised. We should consider ourselves lucky.” 

“It wasn’t just that though. I was watching when he died. He… he turned his face up to the field at Feyre and he smiled at her. It felt like a bittersweet ending to a story I didn’t know. Like he was saying goodbye to more than just this world.” 

You draped your arm over his chest, tracing the black ink swirling across his chest and over his shoulders like ocean waves. The Bone Carver was more myth than legend to the few fae that had known of his existence and you knew with each passing century his story would be steadily wiped from the earth like wind shaving down stone. His name would become a whisper. His story, and Beth’s, a tragedy for no one but the stars to weep to. 

But you were still here, and your time with Bethsevah’s book had left you with no small amount of fondness for him. For now you would still be able to whisper his true name. 

“Thanatos.” You said. “He loved this world and the people in it. He sacrificed his life for it. I think he had many things he wanted to say goodbye to.” 

“To Thanatos then.” Azriel raised an invisible cup towards the ceiling of his bedroom, silk sheets sliding down his arms.

“To Thanatos,” you echoed. 

You eventually went through the morning motions together —Azriel helped lace up the back of your dress, and you buttoned up his shirts, careful to avoid the fragile membrane of his wings as you stood at his back.

He tugged you away from the bedroom door at the last moment, your questioning eyes softening when he cradled your face in his hands and stole one last kiss in the privacy of your room, murmuring "Beautiful," against the crown of your freshly brushed hair.

"Do the others know you're such a hopeless romantic?" You asked, finally opening the door and breaking the spell of privacy.

Before Azriel could answer, Cassian blew past the room, shockingly quiet for his mountainous size. "Yes, we all know," he shouted before disappearing down the hall.

Ione stood proud and tall in front of the windows, grey eyes narrowed at the Sidra as it wound through the valley like a snake. Cassian slid into the space beside her and handed her her cane. She knew instinctively where the warrior stood and where his hand reached out towards her. She took the cane without the second glance. A golden lion’s head roared from atop its wooden post, Ione’s fingers resting squarely between its glistening teeth as she leaned experimentally on the new device. Cassian had ordered it custom for her and she knew that hidden within the sleeve of glistening redwood was an iron rod forged in enchanted flames that rendered it near unbreakable. 

“Careful.” She reminded Cassian when she caught him staring for too long. “This body may be different, but I can still bring you to your knees.” 

Cassian chuckled, “I don’t doubt that.”

She slammed the cane against the ground once. Twice. Testing its strength and finding it worthy. “Do you think it will happen soon?” 

This waiting — it was beginning to grate on her nerves. This foreboding calm that threatened to fall away into chaos and bloodshed. She almost wished she were living three years into the future, when she was finally done healing from her wounds and the future had faded into the background of her life once more.

“If I could see into the future, I would not be here right now waiting.”

“And yet here we are.” Ione sighed, shoulders rising and falling elegantly beneath a wrinkled but slender neck.  

Cassian would have said more had Feyre and Rhys not entered the room together, bruises layered beneath their eyes as they plastered on bright smiles for their family, tension visible through the cracks in their porcelain teeth. 

The Inner Circle had assembled in their entirety at the request of their High Lord and High Lady. There was no holiday to be celebrated. No birthdays or anniversaries or special occasions. The fare that had been laid out on the table was simple and everyone filled their plates before spilling out across the sofas and the armchairs or carving out a space on one of Rhysand’s expensive hand-woven rugs. There would be no special meal around the new table devoid of scratches and watermarks and the passage of time and love. This was their family, and for their family it was the company that put finery to shame. 

Elain was a flutter of movement in and out of the kitchen, shepherding pots of tea and fruit tarts before Lucien finally caught her around the waist and made her rest. The House was equally restless. The lights strung above the fireplace mantle flickered like lantern flies. 

Mor sat with Emerie’s wings draped around her shoulders like a cape and Gwyn sat on the floor, hugging her knees close to her chest as she rested her head against the Illyrian female’s knee. To no one’s surprise, you and Azriel clung to the corner of the room, content to watch everyone’s laughter with your arm subtly looped around his. 

He still hasn’t told her, I see. Emerie noted, watching your smile stretch into place when Azriel leaned close to whisper in your ear. 

Does it matter? Mor teased, kissing Emerie’s nose reverently. The Illyrian’s cheeks turned warm. Emerie had not been granted the freedom to explore romance to the same degree as Mor, something she’d worried about when they first started their courtship. But if anyone asked the blonde, she’d tell them it drove her wild to see how such simple gestures could reduce the fearsome warrior to a puddle, even now. Mor tucked herself into Emerie’s side, throwing her long legs over the armrest. It’s probably a good thing. If they could speak to each other like this, we’d never hear from them again.

Emerie laughed into Mor’s golden hair. 

Conversations rose and fell. Plates emptied and clicked as they were laid out on the coffee table.

It was a simple peace they welcomed with open arms. 

They didn’t hear the faintest thud coming from above their heads. 

You smiled when one of Azriel’s shadows wove themselves into your hair, tickling the sensitive skin behind your ear and along your neck. 

“Sorry,” Azriel whispered, trying and failing to draw them back to him for the nth time that day. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them.” They’d been especially touchy as of late, nipping at your heels like a litter of puppies vying for attention or hiding in your pockets. It was a mixture of Azriel’s own feelings that spurred them on and their own desire to protect what they’d claimed as theirs. 

“It’s alright, Azriel. I like having them around.” 

They hummed amongst themselves, happy to see you so pleased. Sometimes, Azriel wondered if you’d be able to learn to listen to them as well. To tease apart that secret language he couldn’t begin to describe. 

Maybe you were listening to them now without even realizing it.

Maybe that’s why you and Azriel were the only ones whose eyes snapped towards the hallway before the first creak of wood sounded throughout the House.

The shuffling of a new, unfamiliar set of feet down the stairs had the hair on the back of your neck rising and crackling with energy.

It wasn’t Jurian. It wasn’t loud enough to be Jurian. He so rarely descended from the attic that he made a habit of making his presence known, tired feet shuffling along the rugged staircase with measured drags. 

You walked over to your brother and tugged on the back of his shirt. “Jurian—”

“That’s not Jurian.” Lucien said with bated breath. He was the third person in the room to hear the sound.

He’d checked on his friends less than a handful of hours ago. Jurian had been as he always was — weary but hopeful as one hand had clenched the bundle of morphine and the other had leaned against the food cart Lucien had carried up to the top floor. 

And Vassa… Vassa had been uncharacteristically quiet, slouching against the wall of her gilded cage, raw skin and thin feathers trembling with her haggard breath as she slept. 

“You should come down.” Lucien had said. “You deserve a break.” 

But Jurian had only shook his head and flashed a tight smile. “As much as I would love to bless you with my presence, I won’t leave her like this. But one day, my friend, we’ll both walk down those steps together and have a proper celebration. I promise you.” 

Vassa came down the steps. 

Alone. 

Naked.

Shivering.

You eyed the window where the mid-afternoon sun beat down on a frosted city. 

It was the middle of the day… and Vassa was human. 

You clutched Lucien’s arm, fingernails digging through his cotton shirt before he could take another step forward. Silence suffocated the room. There was something deeply wrong with the cursed queen. She trembled like a newborn fawn unceremoniously dumped into the world, her skin puckered and pock-marked from where she’d picked at old scabs and opened new wounds. The whole array hung from bones so thin they may as well have belonged to a bird. 

“Vassa…” Lucien’s voice broke on her name. 

A path of bloody feathers trailed behind her.

She grasped at strands of her fiery red hair and tugged. Hard. You focused all your energy on keeping the food in your stomach when strands fell through her bloody fingers and saliva rose in your mouth. 

“I’m so sorry, Lucien. I can’t… It won’t stop.” Her voice, which had once been beautiful, grated your ears. “My skin. It feels like I’m crawling out of it.” 

“Vassa.” Lucien held out his hands, showing her they were empty. “Where’s Jurian?” He would come down. He would help her in ways only he was capable of. 

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Where’s Jurian?”

At the second mention of her lover’s name, Vassa broke down crying. Fat, ugly tears streaking down tan cheeks that had turned sallow and grey. She wiped them away, fingers dripping. There was a deep, unyielding hunger evident in every stutter of her body as her eyes raked across the room. You flinched when those milky, teal eyes passed over you… and landed on Ione. 

Elderly, painfully human, Ione.

Vassa’s left eye twitched and Azriel had only enough time to tackle you to the ground and cover your body with his own before the mortal queen burst into flames.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

^^ Visual depiction of how I've felt the last week like what in the world? I'm getting enough sleep I swear but every morning I feel like I'm dragging a two ton boulder behind me until I get a sip of that bitter goodness. Ugh. Hope y'all are resting better than I am.

Anyways, I know it's been a while since I posted, but the chapter is here! Whoop! And I hope you enjoyed :) As always, feedback is appreciated and welcome if you have burning things you need to get off your chest (doesn't even have to be SSIB-related honestly my inbox is there).

[roseykat]

TITLE: Play Right

SUMMARY: The aftermath of the events that occurred at Hyunjin's apartment begins to unravel and sprout into things that are unsuspecting of Hyunjin and Jisung. While Jisung is under the disturbance of a text message he sent to Chan from your phone, he decides to turn to his friends to spill the beans.

TAGS: porn with plot, solo male masturbation, ruined orgasm, swearing, handjobs, soft moments, depictions of sexual intercourse, kissing, cum eating, orgasms, mainly m x m themes, alcohol is consumed (but nobody is drunk)

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

PART 1 + PART 2 - MASTERLIST

🏷️LIST: @chillichillicrabcrab23 @broken-glowsticks @ihatemen55 @boi-bi-ahaha @galamxy @weareapackofstrays @anglerfishiey @elizalabs3 @fr34k4c1dr41n @stayconnecteed @imnotjjini0325 @twinklix @meilix @livsposts @dawn-iscozy @princejisung @groovygroovyhyunjin @valibals @oiikaro @/itsthatbri @leftkittenface @/20minsat180degrees (if you want to be removed from the taglist going forward with this series, lmk!)

A/N: listened to Cigarettes out the window by TV Girl when I wrote most of this.

DISCLAIMER: before you read, this is a series so things are building up. There is a plot, so whilst this isn’t reader x member heavy based as the rest of the parts so far, that doesn’t mean to say that it won’t be in the future. Reader and Chan will get their time, don't worry, just want things to develop. This piece is more Jisung and Hyunjin focused iykwim x 

-

“The weather forecast for the upcoming week is predicted to be hotter than usual-“

“Ngh- fuck, right there...”

“-with temperatures expected to rise above thirty degrees. Weather Watch is also alerting citizens-“

“S-So good, baby…Y/N…”

“-in the city to prepare for the possibility of yet another monsoon-“

“Gonna…cum, gonna cum so hard for you…just like that…”

“-other regions of the outer city should also expect showers and hot temperatures-“ 

“Fuck’s sake!” 

With an angry groan and grumble, Hyunjin’s right hand stills over his slick, hard cock. His other hand yanks a pillow from his side and pelts it straight at his door to slam it right shut. Pathetic white strings of cum shot from his dark pink tip and land on his abdomen, some as far as his shirt that he had pulled up to his chest to avoid staining it. 

It’s been impossible for him to jerk off while the six o’clock weather is playing in the background from his lounge. The talk of monsoons and hot weather threatens the disappearance of the mental images he has of you in his brain, used as vital motivation to get himself off - a recurring activity that has been happening for the past two weeks. 

Summer doesn’t make it any better either. His body is sticky, sweat beading over his forehead from the disgusting, muggy heat that rivals the air con blowing throughout his apartment. Then the rain that lashes harshly at his windows is enough to drown out his own moans. It was a useless feat, just as useless as his own ruined orgasm that now put him in a bad mood. He had to satisfy his needs somehow. 

Instead of turning to porn, Hyunjin had something even better; you. The vivid images of his cock plunging fluidly into your wet pussy. The erotic sounds he extracted out of you with each thrust, that is when you weren’t choking on Jisung’s dick. He just wishes he could’ve seen your face when he made you cum.

Hyunjin sighs and presses his head back into the pillow. Before he gets to think about jumping in the shower, his phone rings from the nightstand. He picks up the device to see a very flattering drunk photo of Changbin appear on his screen. 

Hyunjin answers, “hey.” 

“Hyunjin, what are you doing right now?” Changbin asks.

“Watching the news,” he sniffs, he might as well have been watching the news.

“Boring. Did you not see the group chat messages?” 

“No, not yet. Why is something wrong?” 

“No, nothings wrong. Minho booked a table for hot pot and barbecue tonight. Figured you weren’t doing anything important so we’re all meeting up in half an hour,” Changbin explains. 

Barbecue and hot pot sounded nice. Surely it’ll be a method to dry out Hyunjin’s damp mood a little bit. That and a cold shower to freshen up. 

“Okay, yeah sounds good. Can you text me the details then?” 

As Hyunjin hung up and decided to start getting ready, it dawned on him that he hadn’t seen his friends in a couple of weeks, with a strong reference to you and Jisung. You had both been active in the group chat so he didn’t necessarily feel awkward about seeing the guy he had a threesome with. As for you, he really doesn’t know. 

You’re sweeter and easy to be around. Something about that just turns the entire situation on its head. Not that Jisung isn’t sweet or easy to be around in Hyunjin’s opinion, with you it’s different. Although, as he’s been mulling over the past couple of weeks, he’s discovered a few things about himself and Jisung. 

Dressing according to the weather, Hyunjin takes his umbrella with him on his way out in the hopes the rain won’t continue when he leaves the restaurant later on. After receiving the address from Changbin, thankfully just one subway stop away, Hyunjin heads off into the downfall and arrives fifteen minutes later. 

He was wrong to assume that he wasn’t going to feel awkward around Jisung, and now as he spots him at the table, engaging in a riveting conversation with Jeongin, all he feels is awkwardness. He waves out to him from down the way, ushering him to come over, lulling Hyunjin out of his own mind for a minute. 

“Hyunjin!” Jeongin called out cheerily, patting a spot beside him to come and sit. 

“Already started drinking Innie?” Hyunjin slings his arm around his younger friend's shoulder. 

“I couldn’t wait, sorry,” he responds and pours Hyunjin a shot of his soju. “Long day.” 

“Did you eat before?” 

“Not since lunch,” he replies. 

Hyunjin shakes his head and warns, “Innie, you know it’s bad to drink on an empty stomach, right?” 

Jeongin shrugs, “like I said, long day.” 

Hyunjin picks up his shot glass, downing it in one go before setting the glass back down on the surface again. As he does, his eyes meet Jisung’s who stares intently at him from across the table. He shoots a cheeky wink at Hyunjin, forcing a deep red blush to emerge through his cheeks.

Hyunjin knew what that meant. 

Suddenly his mind races back to that night at his apartment; making out with Jisung, remembering suddenly the thought of what sort of tricks that mouth of his possesses, watching you suck him dry. He wasn’t going to be forgetting it any time soon, not when it fuels his jack off sessions at home. 

After the few lingering moments where the pair were still locking eyes, more of their friends started to show up. Seungmin was accompanied by his new girlfriend, glued to his hip who greeted everyone shyly. Hyunjin hadn’t actually properly met her, let alone talked to her yet, but she seemed nice. Once they had taken a seat on their cushions, Changbin rolled in with Felix and Minho in tow who was stuffing his keys into the pocket of his pants. 

“You guys are here early,” he says with surprise. 

“You were the one who organised it,” Jisung pointed out. 

“That I did,” Minho nods, sitting down with everyone else. 

Felix groans as he flops next to Changbin, “I’m hungry, it's not even funny.”

As everyone settled down, trays of fresh veggies, assortments of meat, and other items were brought to their table for them to cook. Minho decided to get started on grilling while Seungmin opted to bring the hot pot on the table to a boil. The smell of the food made Hyunjin almost forget why he was slightly nervous about going out in the first place.

He got back to talking with Jeongin, asking him how work has been treating him, what he’s been up to since they last saw each other, and even planned a time to hang out in the future. 

“What about you, Jisung?” Jeongin asks with a mouthful of bossam. “Haven’t seen you in ages. Been up to anything interesting these days?” 

Jisung finishes slurping up some of the rice noodles Felix had cooked for him from the hot pot, “here and there. Mainly just working now.”

“Ah,” Jeongin nods in understanding. “You always work so much. No wonder why it’s hard for you to hang out with us sometimes.” 

That’s when it hits Jisung, causing him to pause and realise that something isn’t right. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realise it when it’s right there in plain sight.

“Where is Y/N and Chan?” He questions.

“Mm! Gonna…gonna cum all over your cock, wanna cum for you so bad,” you strain out. “Makes me feel so fucking good.”

Chan looks up at you, a deranged and desperate expression paints his face as you ride his dick, “don’t stop riding me then. Need to see that pretty pussy cum all over me.” 

Minho flips over pieces of meat on the grill, “Chan is out of the city with his family at the moment. They flew in a few days ago.” 

“You’re creaming so much around me baby,” Chan growls, nails digging painfully into the skin over your hips. “This pussy is all mine.” 

“And Y/N’s still at work,” Minho continues, plating some of the veggies he had been charring on the side too.

Moans erupt from your chest, projecting out into Chan’s lounge, “C-Channie, so good, make me cum, please-“

Jisung nods. It’s not suspicious at all to him that neither of you are here. The two people to an unwanted jigsaw puzzle that he had been piecing together just so happened to be ‘missing.’ Of course, none of the other guys truly knew why. At least he doesn’t think. 

Maybe you two really are in separate locations - not that he believes it. The one thing he knows for absolute sure to be the cold, hard truth, is that you and Chan are most definitely seeing each other casually - fucking behind everyone’s backs. Then again, so did he and Hyunjin in some sense.

Nonetheless, for the past couple of weeks, Jisung was storing that message he received on your phone from Chan in the back of his mind. It affirms a glimmer of a suspicion that Jisung held about Chan previously; that he was seeing someone. 

“Well, that just confirms everything then,” Jisung mutters under his breath, concluding his answer there and then in his mind. 

“Confirms what?” Minho questions, his hawk grade hearing picking up on his undertone. 

“Nothing, just a theory that I have,” he says smartly. “I was just thinking about it and...” 

“And what?” Minho presses.

“And whether I should be sharing it or not,” he replies, unsure of his own answer. 

“Well you have to now since you brought it up,” Felix exclaims. 

“It’s nothing,” Jisung brushes it off, making everyone at the table wonder what the hell he’s on about. 

“Nah, it has to be something,” Seungmin shakes his head and begins wondering what it is. “If it wasn’t important, he’d just say it. But he’s not.”

Is it even Jisung’s place to tell everyone? No. Should he still do it? No. But that’s what friends do. They talk and speculate about who they think are the perfect matches in the group or who out of everyone would marry if they had no other option. Topics as such.

In this case, it’s whether you and Chan are sleeping together or not, which Jisung already has the answer to. Whether he decides to tell the truth would just be speculation to the others since they never saw what Jisung did. They can decide to believe it or not.

However, does he trust his friends with the truth and to not say anything? Without a shadow of a doubt. So with that sliver of comfort in his mind that makes him think he’s not doing the wrong thing, Jisung chooses to divulge. 

“Y/N and Chan are fucking.”

Everyone’s heads at the table fixes onto Jisung. Not a single mouth moved out of surprise as the silence threads its way around. It makes him feel terribly awkward.

This is news to everyone, particularly to the person sitting opposite him; Hyunjin. Someone who, upon hearing what just came out of Jisung’s mouth, didn’t believe it for a second - did not want to believe it.

“You’re lying,” Seungmin accuses immediately from the other end of the table. 

“That’s your theory?” Changbin questions. “That Chan and Y/N are together?”

“Not together, together,” Jisung makes haste to correct him. “I just have reason to believe that they’re seeing each other casually is all.”

“I don’t believe you,” Seungmin responds, letting his strong opinion be known. “What is that reason anyway?”

“I swear on everyone I know, I saw a text message proving it on her phone,” Jisung mentions before his blood starts running cold. He almost gave away more than he should’ve.

Without context of the night in question, none of them know. Not even Hyunjin, who was a third party to it all, didn’t exactly know. He can only guess if what Jisung is referring to is the dirty text message that was sent off of your phone to Chan during the game of truth or dad. Then again, it’s not a thought that he even remotely considers when his mind has been stuck on the fact that you and Chan are potentially hooking up. 

“What the hell are you going through her phone for?” Felix asks defensively. 

“Yeah, that’s not okay,” Jeongin adds. 

“N-No! I wasn’t going through her phone, I just…saw them, by accident,” he responds out of desperation. 

He doesn’t want to disclose that night to his friends. Sure they’re all mates and share everything with each other, but that’s just Jisung. Hyunjin keeps aspects of his life relatively private and Jisung is sure that you wouldn’t appreciate him going around telling everyone what happened. But at that thought, he starts second guessing himself and what he just did. If he thinks you wouldn’t be okay with him sharing information about that night, how is it any different from him saying the same thing about you and Chan? 

It doesn’t take long for Jisung to feel regret and guilt for ever bringing it up. 

“Even if they are, who cares? Good for them, and if they start going out - even better. Y/N’s a massive upgrade from that chick he was seeing before,” Minho explains. 

“That’s probably why they’re messing around,” Felix theorises. 

“I still don’t reckon they are,” Seungmin puts in his opinion again. 

“Why?” Felix asks. 

“I just don’t see it,” he shrugs. “Chan seems like the type of person who wouldn’t sleep around because he only wants to be with someone that he really, really likes.” 

Those words do not sit well with Hyunjin. 

“And Chan told you that himself, did he?” Minho snickers. “If that’s your reasoning, then it sounds like they’re already going out.” 

Hyunjin and Jisung’s eyes immediately lock onto each other in horror. 

“I don’t know if you heard the word ‘seems’ in my sentence, implying that I’m only guessing but okay,” Seungmin bites back, earning him a finger flick to his arm by Jeongin for talking back like that to their older friend. 

“Ten bucks that they are,” Minho says on a different topic. “Ten bucks that they aren’t,” Seungmin counters. 

“A-Are you saying that none of you believe me?” Jisung whines. 

“We’re saying that we don’t have enough evidence – any of us, not just you since you bought up the topic,” Minho replies. 

“What about tonight? Neither of them are here, where do you think they might be?” Jisung attempts to raise a good point, but Changbin spots the obvious loopholes. 

“We already told you. Chan isn’t even in the city since he’s spending time with his family, and Y/N’s still at work,” he answers. “And we know that because Chan messaged the group chat to tell us that he wasn’t going to be coming to dinner and we know Y/N doesn’t finish until six thirty.”

“They could be lying,” Jeongin conspires. 

“That’s only for tonight though. I know he’s been acting shady lately so I reckon he is,” Felix announces. 

“Hyunjin?” Changbin pokes him in the arm, trying to prod an answer out of him. 

He responds quietly but honestly, “I-I don’t think they are.” 

“That settles it then,” Minho begins instigating once more. “Two of you bet that they aren’t and the rest of us bet that they are.”

“We are not betting on our friends right now,” Jisung tries to calm the masses. 

“Mm! How about losers have to pay for a day of food when we go to Jeju?” Jeongin suggests. 

The majority of the table begins to erupt in agreement, making it impossible for Jisung to rewrite something he just initiated. Everyone immediately starts talking details about what food they would request if they won the bet, then would eventually return to the topic of you and Chan. 

Hyunjin didn’t really want to hear another word of it. Instead, he pours himself another shot of Jeongin’s soju in the hopes his thoughts about the situation start to melt. Until he gets to that stage, it’s easy for him to wallow in his feelings. A selfish part of him wants whatever connection there is between you and Chan to falter to the point of no return. Then the other half scolds his mind for wishing such a misfortune on his friend.

But nobody knew. Nobody knew that Hyunjin had feelings for you nor did he want anyone to know. He’d rather die than tell someone he likes them for fear that they won’t like him the way he does. It’s almost like he’s saving himself from the pain and hopes that it’ll pass. However, there was also ‘instigator number two’ sitting across from him who had been making regular appearances in his brain since that night. Hyunjin doesn’t know what it means, if it even means anything for that matter.

So by the end of the dinner, everyone had their bets placed. 

The whole lot of them lingered outside the restaurant after some filling meals as some of the others waited for their rides back home. All aside from Felix and Jeongin who decided to go bar hopping for more drinks. Changbin and Seungmin were laughing away at something they were discussing while Minho was chatting to his friend's new girlfriend. Hyunjin on the other hand stood away from them, up against the wall of the building as he scrolls aimlessly on his phone. 

“Hey,” says Jisung, emerging from the restaurant. 

Hyunjin turns to his friend, realising it’s the first time they’ve directly spoken to each other in a while, “hi.” 

“You know it feels like I haven’t seen you since-“

“That’s because you haven’t, Jisung,” he cuts him off sharply, having already foreseen what Jisung was about to say after the word ‘since.’ 

He smiles sheepishly, “right. So, what are your plans now?”

Hyunjin doesn’t think and shrugs, “gonna go home, paint, watch TV or something.”

“Cool. I’m coming with you.” 

Hyunjin didn’t have any say in the matter. Jisung was going to follow him home like his own shadow whether he liked it or not. It dismissed Hyunjin from grovelling in his feelings and mind after hearing the situation between you and Chan. One half of his heart yearned to cry while the other wanted to punch Chan in the ribs. He doesn’t know. He’s conflicted. But they are aspects that remain undetected to Jisung as they sat next to each other quietly on the subway back to his home. 

The pair walked under Hyunjin’s umbrella for a few hundred metres until they were under the shelter of the apartment complex. He doesn’t mind accommodating people at his place since he spends the majority of his time in voluntary solitude. It allows him to fully recuperate from social settings in order to go out again. This time, with less company, it’s still equally welcoming. So after Hyunjin unlocks his front door for both of them enter, take off their shoes, and store them neatly. 

“Ah~” Jisung sighs with relief, stretching out his arms and stands right underneath a device mounted to the top of the wall. “Air con!” 

“Don’t you have one? I thought you did,” Hyunjin mistakenly thought. 

“It broke,” he mumbles, revelling in the cold artificial breeze. “Been waiting three weeks for it to be fixed.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything after that. He lets Jisung do whatever he wants while he heads into his room to change from his clothes to a black tank top and a pair of shorts. In his spare room that he’s been slowly transitioning to an art space, he goes in and collects some of his unfinished art, paints, and brushes. After, he returns to the lounge, he sets everything down on the coffee table and pulls up some floor cushions for him and Jisung to sit on. 

“Oh, tangerines,” he suddenly remembers as his eyes clock onto the silver fruit bowl on his kitchen counter while Jisung takes his jacket off and hangs it up. 

“Tangerines? In summer?” Jisung asks as he goes to sit down. 

Hyunjin places the bowl of the fruit between him and his friend as he lowers down too, “why not? I got them fresh from the market the other day.”

“I can only eat them in the winter.”

“Alright then,” Hyunjin shrugs and starts peeling one for himself as Jisung reaches for the remote and turns on the TV. 

For a while, they sit together. Hyunjin switches between picking up his paintbrush and pieces of fruit whereas Jisung’s eyes are glued to some hot drama playing across the screen. It’s nice to just be in the same room with someone and to not have a full on conversation that ends up being draining on their social batteries. Both of them are the perfect introverts for thriving in those types of environments. A peaceful comfort.

Time seems to pass in their space as Jisung nears the end of the episode and Hyunjin is rounding off one area of his painting. By that time, Hyunjin had eaten five tangerines then opted to bring some more. He offered to Jisung if he wanted something else to eat or drink, but the man was so hooked on this drama that he didn't even hear Hyunjin ask.

He found it…slightly…endearing. Just a bit. But then he went back to his work and all was forgotten until Jisung finally started speaking again.

“Hyunjin,” he starts in a low voice, still staring at the screen. 

“Hmm?” 

“Are we gonna talk about the other night?” Jisung mentions.

His hand freezes over his canvas, a small dollop of paint drips from the end of his brush and onto his work. Hyunjin wasn’t exactly expecting to hear that question, yet at the same time, he should’ve seen it coming. 

“W-What about it?” He responds awkwardly. 

Jisung leans back, both of his hands propping him up from behind as he looks up to the ceiling, “the fact that we kissed, well… made out mainly.” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, unsure of what to actually ask him here. “Do you…regret it?”

“No! No way!” Jisung exclaims rather quickly before he calms down. “No, I don’t. In fact…it was…actually really good.” 

In the back of Hyunjin’s mind, he can almost predict what’s about to happen. Jisung wouldn’t have brought up the subject unless it was really affecting him - unless he was dying to get it off his chest. Otherwise he would’ve let it simmer down, but taking into account that it had been two weeks and he wants to unpack everything, there was clearly something irking him in a way that only Hyunjin seems to understand. 

“You looked…good that night,” he adds then corrects himself. “You do look good.” 

Hyunjin peers up from his work. What’s he supposed to say to that? Is he supposed to divulge the fact that he thinks the same of Jisung? He doesn’t even know entirely what he feels, having just accepted that he slept with his two friends and sort of went on with life.

“What did you follow me back to my apartment for?” Hyunjin gets straight to the point. 

His friend sits back up and looks him dead in the eye, “let’s just say I didn’t follow you back to eat some fruit and watch TV.”

“Then what?” Hyunjin urges impatiently even though his and Jisung’s faces slowly draw towards each other.

Jisung’s eyes drop down to Hyunjin’s lips, and says in a quiet voice, “because I wanted to kiss you again.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t know when, but it happened. One second he had his gaze set on Jisung’s soft expression and the next his eyes were closed, allowing his brain to focus on what’s physically happening. Their lips meet for the second time since the first, this time a little slower and tender.

As the TV plays in the background, all the two of them can hear is the sound of their mouths moving - breaking apart for a couple of moments even though their noses still touch, tilting their heads in different directions to see what’s the better angle. 

The sweet, citrine aftertaste of tangerine lingers in Hyunjin’s mouth, a pleasure to savour when Jisung is able to explore it with his tongue. In Hyunjin’s left hand, the paintbrush slips from his grip, its tip smearing more paint onto his work. But there is a great distance between him and being bothered about it. He worries more about the reaction, that after minutes of kissing, stirs in his pants when Jisung’s hand finds its way onto his lap, barely caressing his thigh. His cock has started filling out. 

He doesn’t notice it until slowly yet surely, Jisung’s hand inches closer to the ever growing, obvious bulge in his friend's shorts. The second he makes contact with Hyunjin’s clothed dick, a moan shoots through from his mouth and into Jisung’s. He pulls away for a second, staring at his lips.  

“You really are a good kisser,” Jisung breathes. 

“Jisung…” Hyunjin struggles, his forehead comes to rest against Jisung’s as he stares down at his hand. It palms slowly, agonisingly slow. 

“You’re so hard for-“

He cups Jisung’s mouth before he can complete the rest of his sentence, “shut up, I know,” he cuts him off bitterly. 

A chuckle reverberates through his hand as Jisung takes it away but decides to continue holding it, “let me help you then.” 

It’s not difficult for him to read the room. He knows what Hyunjin wants and how obvious it is that he needs it. His cock silently screams for touch, to be relieved. So at the perfect moment, Jisung reaches into Hyunjin’s shorts and past his boxes.

A quiet hiss issues from his mouth when the entire length of his dick is free from restriction. His cock is beautiful. Jisung never managed to get a good look at it since it was either in your mouth or drilling your pussy from behind.

Jisung licks his way into Hyunjin’s mouth, his tongue dancing across his plush bottom lip before he breaks away for a moment. Excitement surges through him now that he finally gets to feel what he’s been wanting to since that night two weeks ago. He stares down at Hyunjin’s cock, pre-cum beads at the tip, some had already leaked down his length.

For Jisung to have him so aroused, so desperate for touch, proves the effect his friend has on him that he suspected was present. Hyunjin had an inkling of it when you all slept together, but nothing other than that. A pang of realisation maybe, that his friend was attractive and alluring in a sense, and it was obvious that Jisung felt the same. 

He takes a soft hold of the top of Hyunjin’s cock, the pad of his index finger swiping over his tip and pulling away. He watches the thick string of glimmering pre-cum connect him and Hyunjin, forcing a wave of embarrassment to come crushing over him. It wasn’t embarrassing to Jisung. It was hot. So fucking hot.

Seeing the impact of his own actions on Hyunjin’s body gave him a sense of power so to speak. It made him want to see more as he started tugging gently at his dick. He trusted that Hyunjin’s pre-cum would act almost as a lube, and sure enough with more strokes, his cock was sticky with it. Nothing but slick sounds and tiny, barely there whimpers from Hyunjin’s mouth fill his lounge, drowning out the next episode of the drama that was still playing. 

“Mm…it…mmm.” 

“Don’t be shy Hyunjinnie,” Jisung prompts him to become more vocal, to express what he’s feeling however he wants. “We’re friends, since when have you ever been quiet around me?” 

Hyunjin replies breathlessly, “friends…d-don’t get each other off.”

“Hey, you haven’t gotten me off yet,” Jisung reminds him. 

Yet. 

In his mind that starts to slip through his fingers like sand, Hyunjin was no longer able to tell if that was an empty possibility or a very real chance of it happening. For the time being, he chooses to focus on pleasure. The satisfaction of having something wrapped around his cock to relieve him, and the divine pressure that begins to store at the base of his cock from Jisung’s long strokes. 

“Feel good?” He asks. 

The question alone is enough to make Hyunjin lower his head and close his eyes, too shy to meet Jisung’s ardent gaze. Instead, he gives an affirming nod. 

“Good,” Jisung mumbles quietly, then finds Hyunjin’s lips once more with his own to kiss him.

God he can’t stop kissing him. 

The way they melt into each other is almost like they’ve done this a hundred times prior. Jisung tugs and strokes Hyunjin’s length so attentively, greedily drawing out every single reaction he can possibly get. The hushed moans that transmit from his mouth as Jisung’s tongue moves lazily to explore. Very abruptly however, Hyunjin breaks away from the kiss. 

“G-Gonna make me cum,” he swallows hard. 

Jisung’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his head just hearing that. To him, those words are not only a specific type of praise or reward, but it’s coupled with the way that Hyunjin sounds right in his ear. His tense, high pitched whimpers become more frequent and stressed as Jisung has been building him up to the height of his orgasm.

“Cum for me then,” Jisung whispers to him.

Suddenly, the air snags inside Hyunjin’s throat. His head drops and all the attention gravitates towards his cock, shivering as he starts to orgasm.

“Ngh - ‘sung…cumming,” he strains out, breathing deeply but staggered. 

Jisung catches his seed in the cupped palm of his hand as he manages to stroke the tip of his length at the same time. He looked so beautiful when his mind and body writhe under his touch. Hyunjin’s moans complete the satisfaction Jisung feels to have unravelled his best friend like that. To see ribbons of his white warm cum in hand makes him struggle against the unhinged part of his brain that needs to taste it for himself. He can’t help it when the base of his palm reaches his mouth-

But it doesn’t stop Hyunjin’s face from twisting and screwing into an expression of revolt. 

“Jisung,” he says with a tone of warning. 

He hastily tucks himself back into his clothes, springs up from the coffee table and heads to the kitchen to grab a paper towel. After soaking it a little bit in some warm water from under the tap, he returns to Jisung and cleans his hand. Hyunjin didn’t want to make a note of the fact that most of Jisung’s palm was covered in cum and when he returned, it was almost like it was never there. Still, he did him the decency of helping clean him up. 

“Maybe wash your hand too,” he suggests with a concerned look still clouding his face. 

“Don’t look so offended, Hyunjin,” Jisung chuckles airly. “You taste good.” 

“Shut up, please,” is all he can come back with, then looks up to not only see that cocky, arrogant grin of Jisung’s but to also notice that there’s still a trace of his cum smeared a little bit on his bottom lip. Hyunjin reaches towards his friend’s face, thumbing the excess away.  

“Don’t waste anything,” Jisung scolds him.  

“Alright,” he rolls his eyes, done with the mortifying humiliation and stands up again to return to the kitchen with the dirty paper towel to chuck it away. 

“Wait, come back! Kiss me one more time and I swear I’ll stop embarrassing you!” he calls out to him.

Hyunjin stops listening to Jisung and all the whiny complaints he propels from the coffee table. Instead, something else suddenly occupies his attention. The one thing that threatens to unbalance his mood once more. 

“Jisung,” Hyunjin says. “Is it true? About Y/N and Chan?”

“Huh?” He answers, “Oh, yeah. It is.” 

Hyunjin’s gaze falls to the floor. That answers that then. 

Jisung then continues, “I didn’t want to mention how I saw the message though. If I did, it might’ve put you and Y/N in the spotlight about that night we had when you probably didn’t want to. Plus, they’re like jackals. They would’ve torn you to shreds just to get an answer.” 

Hyunjin nods, appreciative of his friend's move, “thanks. But should you have told them about Y/N and Chan anyway?”

Jisung did realise at one stage that he told their friends about you and Chan, but didn’t apply that same energy towards bringing up himself, you, and Hyunjin. There wasn’t that much of a difference when he looks at it now since he’s also messed around with you both, similar to the way Chan is currently messing around with you.

But Jisung knows for a fact that he didn’t bring it up because he wanted to save his own skin or divert any suspicion or attention away from himself. It was just so scandalous to find out that the two least suspecting people on his radar of who in the group would be fucking, is you and Chan. 

“They said they weren’t going to say anything,” Jisung responds. “I trust them that much, not that I should be making a big deal about it, but I want to go see Chan. I know that they’re not, but I want to make sure that they aren’t actually dating, otherwise-“

“We’d have to tell him,” says Hyunjin.

“Exactly,” Jisung agrees. “Again, I don’t think that’s the case. Chan said so himself that he’s done with dating and relationships, and I trust that wholeheartedly too.”

Hyunjin gives a nod and decides to hold out onto hope. Hope that you’re not seeing him and that it’s just something that turns out to be a stupid rumour. In the meantime, he needs to figure out his feelings. 

Too tired to make the commute back to his own place, Jisung ended up staying the night at Hyunjin’s. He could’ve well and truly slept on the couch but for what it was worth, he was invited to sleep in Hyunjin’s bed. It’s not like they’ve never slept next to each other. But for some reason, it means something a bit more. Something hazy that exists in a twilight zone that Hyunjin only hopes clears up so he can decipher what he feels towards Jisung. 

The thought floats around in his mind before he drifts off, sleeping comfortably, only to wake up the next morning tangled in each other’s arms.

Neither of them were bothered about it. 

[rahuratna]

Blue Moon

Summary: A series of occasions when the JJK sorcerers required your comforting embrace ...

(x Reader)

Featuring: Gojo, Kusakabe, Nanami and Ijichi.

Genre: Fluff, romance, humour.

CW: Suggestive language.

Gojo

"On a scale of 10 to 11, how blue do my eyes look this morning?"

"Satoru, what do you want?"

One arm raised, elbow crooked in nonchalant allure against the doorframe, Satoru blinks in feigned innocence. He shifts such that the torso-hugging shirt he has on slides against each defined line of his pectorals.

"I just wanna know. It's nice to hear how handsome I am, from time to time."

"Seriously?"

He cradles his chin between thumb and forefinger.

"I mean, my jawline alone can cut diamonds - "

"Come here."

He grins, having conveyed his message clearly, if a tad ham-handedly. Elbow dropping from the doorframe, he steps into the bedroom, his tall frame stooping until his nose is level with yours.

If you intended to initiate anything at all, you can shelve that idea. Satoru's arms are already sliding around your waist, drawing you impossibly close. His face drops to your shoulder, blowing a playful puff of air against you before he presses into the crook of your neck.

He feels solid in your arms, present. A cloud of pale hair, silky and fragrant, drifts across your vision. The scent of him is warm, vital, alive. You trace gently across the contours of his back before your embrace finally encloses him, feeling his exhale blow heatedly against your skin.

These are the rare occasions when he seeks you out for reassurance under the guise of mischievous ribbing, when he grounds himself in the staid, reliable nature of your presence, when he needs you.

Slowly parting from him, you glance up at the slightly muted brilliance of his glance, the softness that hovers at the edges of that almost ethereal countenance.

"Ready for work?"

"I am now."

You pat him solidly in the middle of his chest, resting your palm there for a minute before pushing him towards the door. The residual humidity of his breath lingers on your throat.

"Now hurry up and go, before I get sliced with that lethal jawline."

Kusakabe

"And then I said, why the heck can't we just take the safe route, not track through the fucking woods in pitch darkness, with a hurricane lamp that could attract every goddamn curse in the region - "

Atsuya cuts off, the scrape of the blade through the lather on his chin punctuating each point he deemed significant.

" - but of course, they didn't wanna hear it. "That's what sorcerers do, they take the dark path." Ha. They can take that poetic allegory shit and shove it."

You complete the task of drying yourself, fingers tracing lightly over the muscled wall of his back as you pass him, reaching for the hairdryer plugged into the wall just outside.

"Were there any injuries?"

"Miwa got a few scratches, but nothing serious."

He rinses off the blade, white foam circling around the drain of the sink before raising his arm again, skin appearing through the curtain of white on the sharp edges of his cheek.

"I told those kids before, you can't rely on anyone else. In a sticky situation, you gotta analyse the environment, know your opponent, observe their abilities, think and act at the same time - "

The noise of the hairdryer temporarily drowns out his voice, and he turns slightly as he sees your smile. You reach for him with your free arm, hair blowing across your face, and he grunts in amusement.

"I've still got shaving cream all over - "

"And when has that ever stopped you?"

No further convincing is needed because Atsuya's bare chest is now against your back, his arms coming up and around your middle, strong fingers linking securely over your abdomen. The coarse scattering of hair across his torso tickles between your shoulder blades. The heat of him is intoxicating, as always.

You squirm slightly in his grasp as the cool shaving cream smears across your shoulder, where he rests his chin, the dim light of the bathroom temporarily shading the green of his eyes to a subtle olive. Prickles of stubble, tender as the new growth of shoots in spring, sink into your still-damp skin.

You turn off the hairdryer, for now. You can't help yourself when your Atsuya is this close, the clean, warm scent of him wrapping around you, infinitely soft. You press your lips in a trail across his cheek, watching as his eyes close, as the rigidity of his powerful shoulders ease under your ministrations.

Drawing away, you see his eyes flick sideways at you, and you can feel the laugh that reverberates like low thunder through his chest. Your face is smeared with white.

"If you wanted to shave too, you should have just said so."

"What if I said I borrowed one of your shaving blades for my legs?"

"No wonder they're so silky smooth."

"Not as smooth as that tongue of yours."

"And you're the first person who's ever thought so."

Nanami

Kento had been pristine, as always, when he'd left home. You'd seen his clothes prepared the previous day, the suit and shirt hung neatly against the closet, socks laid aside, shoes polished to high shine.

You'd watched him comb back his hair that morning, your fingers gently caressing his undercut as you'd made your way to the kitchen to deal with breakfast. You'd watched the small smile curve the corner of his mouth as he'd fastened his watch in place.

Orderly and somewhat fastidious, was your Kento, punctual to a fault, even in the way he kissed you at exactly 8 am at the door, the Jujutsu Tech vehicle waiting outside to swallow him into its cool, dim interior.

His lips had lingered softly on yours, as always, stealing moments from the impatient clock on the wall behind you. You'd straightened his tie, one palm smoothing the slightly hollowed cheek (which had filled out a little recently with your cooking) and then you'd stepped back and treasured the softening of his eyes before the glasses were placed firmly on the bridge of his nose.

So, it was with a sense of growing concern that you watched the same clock that had governed your separation that morning. He was three hours late, and counting. He'd managed to send a brief message earlier that day, that things were gearing up to be a little troublesome. Still, you worried.

You always had.

At 10 pm, the sound of the key slotting into the latch heralds his return. Kento pushes the door open, a heavy sigh reaching your ears as you approach.

He is no longer pristine.

His hair hangs down to his eyes, greasy and disshevelled, the tie nowhere to be seen. His shirt is stained and crusted with darker patches under the arms and across his chest and back. His pants are ripped and you see the bandages beneath where he must have received treatment already. His tired eyes meet yours, and you hold out your arms to him. A soft laugh sounds against the noise of the pot bubbling on the stove.

"I'm filthy. And covered in - "

"Do you see me complaining? No more questions, love."

He grumbles good naturedly, but you know that he not-so-secretly loves it when you take charge at home.

In one stride, he is within the welcoming bracket of your arms, head drooping tiredly against the softness of your chest. He is tall enough that the position is slightly awkward, but he has anchored himself to you for support, and you brace your knees as you take his weight.

He smells of sweat, dirt and something damp and unpleasant that reminds you distinctly of a sewer. You smile and bury your nose into his hair, the unique, masculine scent of him, of Kento, now cutting through the other distractions.

You hold him like this, cradling his head close, whispering soft endearments meant only for his ears, until the stretch in his spine wears him out. He rouses from your embrace, eyes puffy and a trifle unfocused. Long lashes brush slowly together and he yawns.

"Had a good rest there?"

His voice rumbles delightfully through your frame where you are still pressed together, mellow and slightly slurred within the familiarity of these walls.

"A most peaceful one."

You tap the area where his head had been a few moments ago.

"Would you like to rent this space out, sir? It's available, every evening after five."

There it is, that quiet, mischievous smile, the one that spreads tender crow's feet at the corners of his eyes.

"Only after I've inspected it thoroughly, ma'am."

Ijichi

You pause in the doorway. Kiyotaka is pacing the courtyard outside, phone balanced between shoulder and ear. He flips aggravatedly through the folder in his hands.

"Yes, yes, I understand - No - I will - Listen, please. Yes, company cars are expensive, I know better than anyone. However, forcing a trainee to shoulder the full burden of compensation just because he - "

He notices you, out of the corner of his eye. You wave to him and gesture to the files in your hand. He gives a harried nod before a frown marrs his brow.

"No, no, I don't think the fact that he saw a spirit and screamed like a little girl, as you put it, affects his level of accountability in any way. Our policy states that - "

In two quick paces, you reach him, snatching the phone out of his hand. Barking sharply at the person on the other end, you complete his statement.

"Our policy clearly indicates that trainees are exempt from damages incurred during any coursework. And that includes driving. Goodbye."

Ending the call, you huff out an annoyed breath before handing the phone gently back to him. He sighs and you see his glance hover sideways, alighting on the files you're holding. You dismiss his concerns with a wave of your hand.

"Oh, these can wait. Don't worry. How about we go in and have some coffee?"

"Actually ..."

"Yes?"

"I'dratherhaveahug."

"Pardon?"

"I'd ... rather have a hug."

"Oh!"

Your eyes widen slightly as you drop the files haphazardly on a nearby bench. Ijichi eyes them worriedly. 

"Wait, what if the wind - "

"Then we'll say Fushiguro's dogs ate them."

"Eh?"

You laugh at his bewildered expression before tugging lightly on his tie, drawing him close. A flush steals over his cheeks, as you lean in and brush your nose against his, fingers slipping from the tie to the surprisingly strong line of his shoulders.

"Here's the hug you ordered."

"W - Well, yes, but let's be - "

He cuts off as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, one hand sliding stealthily under his coat to caress his back. You feel his Adam's apple bob as he returns the gesture, relaxing slightly into the embrace as his breathing evens out, stirring your hair slightly.

You both stay this way for some time, as the wind whistles in the corners between the statues all around you, mercifully leaving the files intact. You lean back and are about to release him when his hand clasps firmly on the small of your back, and he dips you, smiling as your delighted laugh echoes within the enclosed yard.

As he draws you back up into a brief kiss, you marvel at his sudden bravery. But then again, this is what you love most about Kiyotaka. As shy, anxious, stressed and fatigued as he is (mostly), there was a side to him that always warmed you pleasantly when your thoughts drifted to him.

He was the man who brought you regional treats from wherever his job happened to take him, who made sure that you were safe at all hours of the day, who would pursue you with an umbrella when you'd forgotten yours, who ensured that you'd eaten on time, even when he was swamped with work.

As you separate, you see that in spite of his daring, debeonair action, his ears have turned a startling shade of scarlet. You pinch one of them lightly and smirk.

"Looks like you've been eating spicy food again."

He clears his throat.

"The only spicy thing I've consumed is ... you."

Slapping a hand against your chest in feigned shock, you gasp theatrically.

"Why, Kiyotaka! How positively scandalous!"

A rare grin crosses his tired features.

"If you really want to see scandalous, you should have a look at Yaga's internet search history."

[brunchable]

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐲 | Vampire!Bucky × F!reader × Vampire!Steve.

Pairings: VAMPIRE Bucky Barnes x f!reader X VAMPIRE Steve Rogers Themes: Allure and Danger, Mind-control, Seduction, Powerlessness. Content Warning: This story containes themes of horror, suspense and supernatural elements that may be unsettling for some readers. It includes depictions of blood, violence, predatory behavior, and dark themes of power dynamics. Do not read if you are uncomfortable with themes like this. Summary: Your great-aunt left you an inheritance, but it wasn't just an old castle—it was a dark legacy. As she explores its eerie halls, Y/N unknowingly awakens something ancient and deadly, turning her from an unsuspecting heir into the next castle's victim. A/N: OooOooOOoo Advance happy hallooween. . . If you really want to get in the mood, look up vampire music povs on youtube. they are chef's kiss.

The castle loomed before Y/N like a dark, brooding sentinel against the storm-ridden sky. Its towering spires disappeared into the thick fog that clung to the surrounding mountains, and the jagged stones of its walls seemed to be weeping from centuries of decay. She shivered as she pushed open the iron-wrought gates, the hinges groaning like some tormented beast. The wind picked up, sending leaves spiraling around her, and she clutched her coat tighter, pressing forward with her mind set on a singular goal: This place needs to turn a profit.

What had her great-aunt seen in this wretched estate to leave it to her? The thought weighed on Y/N as she ascended the stone steps, each footfall echoing ominously in the stillness. The wooden doors creaked open under her hand, revealing a grand foyer lined with cracked marble and dust-coated chandeliers that dripped cobwebs like ghostly lace.

The last time she’d set foot in this place, she’d been just a child—five years old and clutching her mother’s hand tightly, staring wide-eyed at the looming shadows and the way the old portraits seemed to watch her. She could still remember the way the cold air had nipped at her skin, how everything had felt too big and dark, swallowing her small frame whole. Now, returning as an adult, it felt no less daunting—just as haunted and hollow as her childhood memories.

She took a deep breath and stepped inside. The air was musty, stale, and laced with something metallic that lingered on her tongue. Still, Y/N’s resolve didn’t falter.

“I’m not going to be scared off by a spooky old castle,” she muttered to herself, voice too loud in the silence.

Her footsteps seemed to disturb the quiet, sending whispers of sound skittering through the corridors. With every room she entered, every piece of dusty furniture she uncovered, Y/N’s confidence grew. She could see the potential—a little restoration, a few modern amenities, and Castle Roghnan would become the most unique boutique hotel in the region.

The ground floor was fairly straightforward. She made notes on what needed fixing, where to add touches of elegance, and what to keep authentic. At some point during her exploration, she’d set her bags down in the dining hall, thinking she’d return there once she’d finished her tour of the castle. The dining hall itself had been just as eerie as the rest of the place—long, dusty tables, cobwebbed chandeliers, and a massive fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been lit in a century.

But what really stood out were the portraits that lined the walls, watching her with eyes that seemed to follow her every move.

They were old, their colors faded with age, but they were still striking—two men, both with unnervingly pale skin and eyes that seemed to burn with an intensity that sent shivers racing down her spine. One of them wore a black coat, his expression stern, almost cruel, his dark hair falling over his forehead in an unruly wave. The other, dressed in a dark brown suit, had a more refined look, his beard neatly trimmed and his gaze piercing through her like he knew every secret she’d ever kept.

These portraits had haunted her as a child, filling her nightmares with faceless, shadowy figures that chased her through endless corridors. She used to wake up sobbing, convinced their eyes were following her even after she’d left the room. Now, staring at them again, it was as if the memories resurfaced with a vengeance—the same chilling sensation that made her want to look away and run, just as she had all those years ago.

She hadn’t lingered long in front of the portraits, the oppressive weight of their gazes making her uneasy. But something about them nagged at the back of her mind as she continued through the castle, their faces etched into her memory.

The ground floor completed, it wasn’t until she reached the narrow, spiral staircase at the back of the castle—hidden behind a tapestry of snarling wolves—that she hesitated. The door at the bottom of the stairs seemed out of place—heavy, iron-bound, and covered in strange symbols she didn’t recognize.

Y/N bit her lip, holding her flashlight tightly. Just a quick look. It’s probably just storage or a wine cellar. She descended cautiously, the staircase spiraling down into what felt like an abyss. The temperature dropped with each step, the air growing damper, thicker. The door groaned as she pushed it open, the sound echoing down the long, dark hallway that stretched out before her.

She hadn’t seen anything yet that couldn’t be explained away as an overactive imagination or a castle abandoned for too long. But as she stepped into the basement, something shifted—a change in the air, a heaviness that settled over her like a cloak.

Her flashlight swept across the room—stone walls lined with shelves of ancient tomes and artifacts. 

The cavernous basement seemed to pulse with a life of its own, the darkness growing thicker the deeper Y/N ventured. She could almost hear the castle breathe around her, its heavy silence shifting and settling like some ancient beast awakening from a deep slumber. With each step, her flashlight flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced across the stone walls.

At the far end, nestled against the wall, were three grand coffins, their surfaces adorned with intricate carvings and symbols.

Y/N’s heart pounded. What in God’s name were coffins doing down here?

She stepped closer, unable to tear her gaze away. The coffins looked… regal, almost. Like the final resting places of kings or warriors. But why were they here?

Each one was massive, carved from cold, unyielding marble that gleamed under the beam of her light. Veins of black and gray ran through the stone like blood vessels, and the lids were inlaid with symbols that twisted and curled like thorny vines. They were too pristine to be empty—an ominous, silent promise of what lay within.

Y/N’s hand shook as she approached the first coffin. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath. It’s probably just a container? There’s no such thing as monsters. But even as she thought it, her pulse hammered in her ears, and every instinct screamed at her to run. Ignoring the warning bells ringing in her mind, she squared her shoulders and reached out, fingertips grazing the frigid marble.

The lid resisted at first, but then, with a heavy groan that echoed through the chamber, it shifted. Y/N pushed harder, the weight of it making her muscles strain. With a grunt, she pushed against it, the lid sliding open with a heavy thunk, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air. She coughed, the sound reverberating in the suffocating silence as the flashlight beam swept over the coffin’s interior.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Inside lay a man—perfectly preserved, as if he’d only just fallen asleep. His skin was as pale as moonlight, his features sharp and aristocratic. Dark lashes rested against high cheekbones, his lips—redder than they had any right to be—were parted slightly, giving him an ethereal, almost haunting beauty. If not for the unnatural stillness of his chest, she might have thought him alive.

A choked scream tore from Y/N’s lips. The sound bounced off the walls, mocking her fear. She stumbled backward, the flashlight slipping from her hand and clattering to the ground, the beam jerking and casting wild shadows that seemed to twist and writhe in the corners of the room.

She landed hard on her backside, breath coming in rapid gasps. Her eyes never left the coffin, the terror flooding her senses. But he didn’t move. Not a twitch, not a flicker of life. Just… a corpse.

“Holy—” she gasped, heart pounding like a drum in her ears. She scrambled back, pushing herself away from the coffin until her spine hit something solid.

The other coffin.

The carved marble felt colder against her back, sending a shiver through her bones. Y/N twisted around, panic seizing her chest as she caught sight of the ornate symbols etched into this second coffin’s surface. She could barely think, barely breathe, but she found herself moving, fingers searching for purchase along the coffin’s lid as if compelled by something beyond her control.

Just get out, a voice whispered in the back of her mind, but her hands moved of their own accord. Dust cascaded down in a soft cloud as she pushed the second lid, her fingers trembling with the effort. It was heavier than the first, resisting as if the very air around it thickened to keep her from opening it.

With a final, desperate shove, the lid shifted, scraping against the stone floor.

Y/N didn’t notice the way the first figure shot up from his slumber, his eyes snapping open with a flash of red glow. She was too focused on the second coffin, too wrapped up in the horror and curiosity twisting inside her like a living thing.

She leaned over the marble edge, heart hammering, and stared down into the face of another man. He was similar to the first in his unsettling beauty, but his features were sharper, more feral. His hair, dark as midnight, framed a face that could have belonged to a fallen angel. The moment she saw him, a wave of terror and fascination washed over her, locking her in place.

The silence was deafening. She took a step back, her foot catching on the uneven stone, but before she could regain her balance—

She sensed it before she saw it: a low, almost imperceptible rustle in the air, like a predator moving in the shadows. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. With a gut-wrenching slowness, she turned her head, a chill of dread washing over her as her gaze fell back on the first coffin.

It was empty.

The man—the corpse—who had been lying so still and lifeless was gone.

Her breath hitched, and panic flooded her veins, drowning out all rational thought. She glanced frantically around the chamber, heart thundering. 

Desperation clawed at her senses as she whipped around to look at the second coffin. It, too, was now empty.

The blood drained from her face. Her entire body shook as her mind struggled to process what she was seeing—what she wasn’t seeing. She stumbled back, gasping, her gaze flitting wildly around the room. They were gone. Both bodies—once so still and dead—had vanished.

Her flashlight beam swung crazily across the stone walls and floors as she looked around, frantic, searching every corner and shadow. But there was nothing. No sign of movement. No one in sight. Just her—alone in the dark, empty crypt.

She swallowed the scream clawing its way up her throat and took a shaky step back. Move. The command rang through her mind like a gunshot. She turned, muscles seizing with fear, and sprinted up the stairs, breath coming in panicked.

The sound of her footsteps echoed wildly in the narrow passage, and the air around her seemed to close in, thick and suffocating. She didn’t dare look back, didn’t dare slow down, heart slamming against her ribcage as she reached the top of the stairs.

Her fingers fumbled on the handle, slick with sweat. She yanked the door open and burst through, slamming it shut behind her with a bang that reverberated through the castle. Hastily, she shoved the lock into place, her hands shaking so violently she could barely hold on.

For a heartbeat, she stood there, chest heaving, back pressed against the door as if her weight alone could keep whatever was down there trapped. The silence pressed in around her, thick and oppressive, broken only by her ragged breaths.

Stay there. Please, stay there.

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying to whatever force might be listening that whatever she’d just unleashed wouldn’t follow her. That whatever she’d left behind would remain in the basement—where it belonged. But even as she stood there, trembling and afraid, a cold certainty gripped her heart.

They were awake. And now… they were free.

× × × ×

With one last glance over her shoulder, she sprinted down the corridor, the muffled sound of her boots pounding against the aged wooden floors echoing through the empty halls.

She burst into the grand foyer, chest heaving, and then—almost instinctively—turned toward the dining room where she had dropped her bag and coat earlier. The chandeliers overhead flickered erratically, casting long, spider-leg shadows on the walls, and the air was different—thick and humid, saturated with the acrid scent of old wood and metallic.

Get your things and leave. Get out of here. Don’t look back. The frantic mantra repeated in her mind as she raced through the hallways, the feeling of being watched never quite leaving her. She reached the threshold of the dining room, skidding to a halt as her gaze swept over the familiar space.

She froze.

The once dark and desolate dining room was now bathed in an eerie, flickering glow. Dozens of candles, which she was certain hadn’t been there before, lined the walls and tabletop, their flames casting an unsettling dance of light and shadow. The long mahogany table was set with dusty, ornate china, as if in anticipation of a grand feast that had never happened. A low, haunting melody drifted through the air, the eerie sound of an organ playing a dirge that sent chills skittering down her spine.

But that wasn’t what made her breath catch in her throat.

Sitting casually at the far end of the table, sitting as if they’d been expecting her all along, were the men from the portraits—the corpses.

Steve lounged in one of the high-backed chairs, his boots propped up on the table as if he owned the place. He toyed lazily with a silver coin, flipping it up into the air and catching it with ease, his eyes tracking the motion with a hint of amusement. The candlelight played across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the unnatural glow in his eyes.

Beside him, Bucky sat sprawled in an equally regal chair, his posture relaxed, hands resting leisurely on the armrests. He watched her with a smirk that sent a jolt of fear through her veins. He tilted his head slightly, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead, his gaze almost mocking as it roamed over her disheveled appearance.

“So nice of you to join us.” Bucky’s smile was charming, almost disarmingly so, but the sharp edge of his teeth glinted in the candlelight. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, fingers steepled as he regarded her with a look of feigned politeness. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest. Her fingers clenched around the strap of her bag as she stood rooted to the spot, unable to tear her eyes away from the two men who—by all logic—should not have been there. Should not have been alive.

She swallowed, forcing herself to speak, but her voice came out a broken whisper. “What… what do you want?”

Steve’s gaze slid lazily over to her, the coin flashing as it spun through the air and landed neatly in his palm. He chuckled softly, the sound low and almost intimate. 

“Isn’t it obvious, sweetheart? You woke us. And now…” He gestured grandly to the table and the candlelit room around them, smirk widening. “We’re making the most of your hospitality.”

A soft inhalation from Bucky drew Y/N’s attention, his eyes darkening to a shade of red as his nostrils flared. His gaze drifted over her throat, lingering as if he could see every pulse and vein beneath her skin. 

“You smell so good,” he murmured, almost to himself, the words a low rumble in his chest. “So… tempting.”

Steve’s lips twitched, the coin spinning lazily between his fingers. 

“We were getting a bit… lonely down there,” he said with a note of amusement, though his gaze never left her, as if he were savoring every breath she took. “It’s been centuries, you know. One tends to get a little… restless.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she took a small, hesitant step back, her gaze darting between the two of them. The door was only a few feet behind her, and if she could just make it outside, get to her car—

“Leaving so soon?” Steve’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and mocking. He swung his feet off the table, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. The coin slipped from his fingers, landing on the table with a soft clink. “We haven’t even had dessert.”

Her gaze flickered to the door and back. “I—”

“—don’t want to go just yet, do you?” Bucky finished, raising an eyebrow. His smirk widened, eyes gleaming with a dark, predatory light. His nostrils flared again, and a soft, appreciative hum left his lips. “We’ve hardly had the chance to get acquainted.”

Y/N stumbled back another step, her back hitting the doorframe. She flinched, the sudden jolt snapping her out of her stunned daze. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to wake us?” Steve interjected, voice smooth and dangerous. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his gaze locked onto her like a predator stalking its prey. “Well, that’s a shame, sweetheart. Because now that you have…”

Bucky shifted, his form blurring at the edges like smoke dissipating in the wind. Before Y/N could blink, he was no longer seated but standing inches away from her, his tall frame towering over hers. The shadows around him seemed to thicken and swirl, like tendrils of darkness coiling in the air.

“You don’t get to leave now, darling,” he whispered, voice a soft caress that sent shivers racing down her spine.

Y/N gasped and tried to step back, but in a blink—less than a blink—Steve was behind her, his presence a cold draft at her back. She whirled around, heart hammering, only to find his face inches from hers, his eyes glowing a brilliant, blood red.

“Going somewhere?” he drawled, lips curling into a smile that showed off sharp fangs glistening in the candlelight.

Y/N’s breath came in short, shallow gasps. Her head swiveled from side to side, searching for an escape that no longer existed. Their figures seemed to flicker like a mirage, shifting closer without moving, surrounding her with no more than a thought.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bucky murmured from beside her, his voice laced with something that almost sounded like concern—if not for the hunger burning in his eyes. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Much,” Steve added with a soft chuckle, his gaze dropping to the hollow of her throat, where her pulse beat wildly beneath her skin. “But you do smell… exquisite.”

They exchanged a glance. With a flash of movement too quick for her eyes to follow, Steve’s fingers brushed her hair aside, exposing her neck. She flinched, but he only hummed softly, as if savoring the sight.

Bucky leaned closer, his breath a chilling whisper against her skin. “I wonder… how fast will you run if we give you a head start?”

Steve’s smile widened, fangs glinting. “Ten seconds?”

“Five,” Bucky countered, gaze flickering back to hers, the scarlet in his eyes deepening with each passing second.

Y/N’s pulse roared in her ears, the organ’s haunting melody blending with the sound of her panicked breathing. They were toying with her, their words teasing and light, but the threat was real—so real she could taste it, like metal on her tongue.

“Run,” Bucky whispered, voice low and full of promise.

Y/N hesitated for a split second, but that was all it took. The shadows around them twisted, their forms dissolving into hazy tendrils of smoke that coiled and writhed through the air.

“Run, little prey,” Steve’s voice floated through the darkness, echoing around her as the hazy mist of his form flitted across the room like a ghostly apparition. “We’ll catch you.”

Y/N didn’t wait to hear more. She spun on her heel and bolted out of the room, the sound of their laughter—a dark, delighted sound—echoing behind her as she fled.

As she sprinted down the hallway, the walls seemed to close in, the air thickening with each frantic breath she took. She could feel them—sense them—moving in the shadows, trailing her like wolves stalking their prey. Every glance over her shoulder revealed nothing but flickering candlelight and empty space, yet she knew—knew—they were there.

Their voices whispered through the air, soft and seductive.

“Run, little prey.”

“Run.”

But no matter how fast she ran, how desperately she tried to escape, she could feel their presence closing in, the scent of her fear and blood drawing them closer.

They were right behind her.

And they were hungry.

× × × ×

The organ’s mournful melody chased Y/N through the hallways, the haunting notes twisting around her like ghostly fingers. She ran, legs burning and chest heaving, every instinct urging her to flee faster, to not look back. The heavy shadows seemed to move with her, shifting and swirling as if they, too, were alive.

Almost there. She could see the grand foyer ahead, the large double doors she had left ajar when she first entered. The cold night air wafted through the small gap, carrying with it the promise of escape, of safety.

Her heart leapt as she pushed herself harder, fingers outstretched toward the door that seemed both impossibly close and unbearably far. Just a few more steps, and she’d be free. She’d be—

A flash of movement blurred in front of her, a gust of wind that sent her hair flying. Y/N skidded to a halt, the scream caught in her throat as a figure materialized out of thin air, solidifying in front of the door in the span of a heartbeat.

Steve.

He stood casually, his hand resting on the edge of the door, which he shut with a single, effortless motion. The heavy wood slammed into place, the sound reverberating through the grand hall like the final toll of a death knell.

“Oops, there goes your exit.” he murmured, voice low and taunting, a dark smile curling his lips as his gaze raked over her with predatory delight.

Y/N staggered back, blood roaring in her ears. She spun on her heel, only to collide with a solid wall of muscle and cold flesh. Her breath hitched as she looked up, eyes widening in horror as Bucky’s smirking face loomed above her, his hands braced loosely at his sides, but every line of his body radiating power and menace.

“Careful,” Bucky drawled, a dangerous light dancing in his scarlet eyes. “You might hurt yourself, darling.”

Fear sent a surge of adrenaline through her veins, and without thinking, Y/N swung her fist at him in a desperate attempt to break free. But Bucky moved faster—far faster—his hand snapping up to catch her wrist with a grip like iron. She gasped as he twisted her arm gently but firmly, pulling her closer until her wrist was just inches from his face.

He inhaled deeply, the sound almost like a purr, his eyes fluttering shut as if savoring the scent of her skin. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, his lips curving into a wicked smile. “You smell… absolutely delicious. It’s turning me on.”

Y/N struggled, trying to wrench her arm free, but Bucky’s grip tightened, holding her firmly in place. He lowered his head, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her wrist, and a soft, dark chuckle rumbled from his chest.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, the words sending a shiver through her entire body. “You’re making this so much more fun.” He glanced up at her, his gaze heavy with hunger. “Do you know what it does to us when you fight?”

She tried to pull away again, her heart slamming against her ribs, but Bucky only chuckled, a low, intimate sound that sent heat flooding through her veins. He turned her wrist slightly, pressing his nose against the pulse point, his fangs just barely grazing her skin.

“Stop!” Y/N choked out, her voice shaking.

Steve’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. 

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he murmured, his voice a soft, seductive whisper that seemed to coil around her, tightening with every breath she took. He took a slow step closer, head tilting slightly as if to savor the sound. 

“It’s racing—your blood rushing so fast… it makes you more…” Steve paused, his gaze dropping to the frantic flutter of her pulse in her neck. “Irresistible.”

Bucky hummed in agreement, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin of her wrist, his lips brushing lightly over her veins. 

“Mmm, yes,” he murmured, the words a low purr against her flesh. “Like a sweet, ripe fruit ready to be plucked.”

Y/N’s body trembled, fear and confusion warring with the strange, unwanted heat curling in her stomach. 

“Please, let me go,” she whispered, the plea breaking on a sob.

Steve’s gaze locked onto hers, a dark smile curving his lips as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over the curve of her throat. 

“Let you go?” he whispered, voice filled with dark amusement. He shook his head slowly, the gesture almost pitying. “Oh no, sweetheart. You’re too… delectable for that.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over her racing pulse, and Y/N gasped, jerking back. But she had nowhere to go—no escape. She was trapped between them, the air around her thickening, stifling.

“I can feel it, too,” Bucky murmured, his grip on her wrist tightening slightly as he drew her closer. His gaze was heavy-lidded, the crimson glow in his eyes deepening as he stared at her with a hunger that sent a fresh wave of fear crashing through her. “The way your blood sings to us.”

“Begging to be tasted,” Steve added softly, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. “Every heartbeat… every breath… makes us want you even more.”

He leaned closer, his mouth hovering over her throat, and Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as the sharp tips of his fangs just barely grazed her skin.

“Careful now, Steve,” Bucky murmured, his tone darkly amused. He tugged her wrist gently, but his strength was undeniable, forcing her to take a step back. “If you keep taunting her like that, she’ll faint before we even get her upstairs.”

Y/N stiffened, terror flooding her veins like ice. “Upstairs?” she echoed, voice shaking.

Steve pulled back just enough to meet her wide-eyed gaze, his smile slow and deliberate. “That’s right, sweetheart. You didn’t think we’d let you run around down here all night, did you?”

Bucky’s fingers brushed against her pulse, the touch both possessive and deceptively gentle. 

“We’ve been waiting for so long,” he murmured, his gaze sliding down her body with a look that made her skin prickle. “We want to… enjoy you properly.”

She tried to pull away, but Bucky’s hold only tightened, his smile widening. “Oh, don’t be shy. You’ll look lovely in something a bit more… suitable.”

He glanced at Steve, something dark and knowing passing between them.

“What do you think, Stevie?” Bucky’s voice dropped to a seductive purr, his eyes never leaving hers. “Should we take her upstairs? Dress her up nice and proper before we really have some fun?”

Steve hummed softly, his gaze trailing over Y/N’s trembling form. 

“Definitely,” he agreed, his voice a low, velvety murmur that sent a fresh wave of fear—and something darker—curling in her stomach. “A delicate, white nightdress, perhaps. Something soft. Something… pure.”

Y/N’s mouth opened to protest, to scream, but before she could utter a word, the world around her twisted and blurred.

The shadows swirled, and the ground seemed to fall away beneath her feet. A dizzying rush of cold air engulfed her, squeezing her lungs and making her head spin. It felt as if her entire body had been caught in a whirlpool, pulled in every direction at once. She gasped, vision darkening at the edges, the sudden pressure and cold lancing through her mind, making her feel like she was being torn apart and put back together all at once.

The sensation was sickening and exhilarating, a chaotic mix of terror and euphoria that left her senses reeling. She wanted to scream, but her voice was swallowed by the disorienting void around her, the sound crushed and muted. Her stomach twisted violently, nausea rising in her throat as the world spun faster, faster—

And then, as abruptly as it began, it stopped.

Y/N staggered, her knees buckling as her feet hit solid ground. The world snapped back into focus, the swirling darkness giving way to dim light and soft, suffocating warmth. She swayed on her feet, her head throbbing and her vision swimming as she tried to catch her breath.

“Oh, darling,” Bucky’s voice purred from somewhere nearby, the sound reverberating in her ears like a sweet, sinister lullaby. “You look a little pale. The first time’s always a bit rough, isn’t it?”

Y/N blinked, her vision slowly clearing. She glanced around, confusion and fear flooding her senses as she realized they were no longer in the dining room.

They were in a bedroom—a large, opulent chamber shrouded in shadows and bathed in soft, muted candlelight. Heavy velvet drapes covered the tall windows, casting the room in shades of deep crimson and black. A massive four-poster bed dominated the space, its dark wood gleaming dully in the low light.

“What… what happened?” she croaked, swaying on her feet as she tried to get her bearings. Her entire body felt like it was floating, her skin tingling as if she’d been electrified. She raised a trembling hand to her forehead.

“You’ve never been teleported before, have you?” Steve’s voice was closer now, a low, intimate murmur that seemed to curl around her like smoke. He appeared beside her in a blur of movement, his hand slipping under her elbow to steady her. “I suppose it’s a little… disorienting.”

A little disorienting? Y/N’s stomach churned, and she fought back the urge to vomit, the sensation of being torn through space and time still lingering like a phantom ache in her bones.

Steve’s hand tightened slightly on her arm, his gaze intent as he studied her face. “But it does have its perks.” His lips twitched into a faint, teasing smile. “We get to move you wherever we want… whenever we want.”

Bucky’s laughter, low and dark, echoed through the room. 

“And right now,” he murmured, his voice like velvet as he stepped forward, the crimson glow in his eyes sending a fresh wave of fear—and something disturbingly close to anticipation—coursing through her veins. “We want you here.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her gaze darting around the room. The bed loomed in the center of her vision, its silk sheets and plush pillows looking far too inviting. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she tried to back away, but Steve’s grip on her arm held firm.

“Easy now,” Steve murmured, his voice low and soothing, though the amusement in his eyes belied the gentleness of his tone. “Don’t hurt yourself. We’re not going to bite… yet.”

Bucky’s smirk widened, shadows curling around him like living tendrils, drawn to the darkness that seemed to bleed from his very being. He wore a stark black shirt, the fabric almost blending into the darkness itself, its high collar emphasizing the unnaturally pale skin of his throat and the strong column of his neck.

Every step he took was a predator’s prowl, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that made your stomach drop. His lips curved, exposing just a hint of his sharp teeth, and it was in that moment you realized: Bucky wasn’t just dangerous.

He was death itself, dressed in human skin.

“But we will have you dressed properly,” he murmured, gesturing to the far side of the room.

Y/N’s eyes followed his hand.

Hanging from a delicate gold hanger beside the vanity was a nightdress—white and sheer, the material almost translucent in the flickering candlelight. The lace trim and delicate embroidery only added to the impression of fragility, of purity… of something meant to be ruined.

“Put it on,” Bucky commanded softly, his voice firm but oddly gentle. He raised an eyebrow when she hesitated, his smile sharpening. “Or shall we help you?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, every fiber of her being recoiling at the idea. 

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, I won’t—”

Steve’s eyes locked onto hers, the crimson depths suddenly brightening with an unnatural, otherworldly glow. 

“Yes, you will,” he whispered, his voice sinking into her mind like a hook, the words wrapping around her senses, squeezing tight. 

A cold and insidious sensation slithered through her thoughts, wrapping around her consciousness like a vice. Y/N’s body stiffened, her limbs freezing in place as if invisible chains had locked her in place. She tried to shake her head, to pull away, but she couldn’t move—couldn’t think—couldn’t breathe.

The world around her blurred at the edges, fading into a hazy, dreamlike fog. Her limbs felt heavy, sluggish, as if she were underwater. She watched in growing horror as her own hand—moving of its own accord—reached for the nightdress.

“No…” she whimpered, but the sound was distant, muted. She could hear herself speaking, could feel the resistance building in her chest, but it was as if she were watching herself from the outside, trapped behind a thick pane of glass.

“Good girl,” Bucky murmured approvingly, his voice a soft, dark purr. He stepped back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched her fingers close around the delicate fabric. “Don’t fight it. It’ll only make things harder for you.”

Y/N’s hands moved mechanically, unbuttoning her shirt and slipping it off her shoulders, the cool air prickling her exposed skin. Her fingers trembled as they tugged at her pants, the motions stiff and jerky, her mind screaming in protest.

No, stop it—stop—this isn’t me!

But no matter how much she struggled, how much she screamed inside her own head, her body continued to betray her. The nightdress slipped over her head, the soft fabric brushing against her skin in a way that made her shudder. The lace clung to her curves, the sheer material leaving little to the imagination.

“There,” Steve murmured, stepping closer, his hand cupping her chin and tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “Isn’t that better?”

Y/N’s lips moved, but no sound came out. She felt trapped, helpless, as if she were caught in a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. Bucky’s gaze roamed over her slowly, hungrily, the dark smile on his lips widening. 

“Absolutely perfect,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that made her skin prickle. 

Y/N’s mind screamed, tears spilling down her cheeks as she tried to break free from the invisible hold on her body. But Steve’s hand tightened on her chin, his thumb brushing away the tears with a gentleness that only made her feel more trapped.

“Shh,” he soothed, his voice a dark, dangerous lullaby. “There’s no need to cry, sweetheart. We promise it won’t hurt… much.”

The softness of his touch a cruel mockery of the horror swirling inside her. The spell that held her body in thrall made her movements sluggish and uncoordinated, as if she were a puppet dancing on invisible strings. She could feel herself trembling, feel the rapid beat of her own heart hammering against her ribs, but she couldn’t control a single thing. Couldn’t even speak.

“Look at me,” Steve murmured, his voice a silken command that echoed in her mind. Her eyes snapped to him of their own accord, pupils wide and glazed. His gaze held hers captive, locking her in place. “You’re not going to fight anymore, are you?”

A part of her wanted to scream, to tell him that she would never give up. But her mouth betrayed her, the words that slipped from her lips a soft, obedient murmur. “No… I won’t fight.”

× × × ×

She was aware—painfully, terrifyingly aware—of every movement, every breath that came too fast, too shallow. Her limbs felt heavy and distant, her mind caught in a strange, numbing haze.

Move. Run. Do something. 

But her body refused to obey, her muscles unresponsive to her control. All she could do was watch through her own eyes as Bucky and Steve moved closer, their forms looming over her like shadows.

Y/N struggled to form a coherent thought, her mind spinning as their mouths brushed over her skin—soft, lingering kisses that sent shivers racing down her spine. Every time she thought she might catch her breath, Steve’s mouth would graze her ear, or Bucky’s fangs would scrape lightly over her collarbone, drawing a gasp from her lips.

“You taste as good as you smell, I bet,” Bucky mused, his lips curving into a wicked smile. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, teasing kiss. His tongue brushed over her lower lip, coaxing her to open for him, and Y/N’s body betrayed her—responding with a soft, helpless whimper.

And then he bit her—just a light, almost playful nip, enough to break the skin and let the faintest hint of blood well up on her lip. Y/N froze, shock flooding her senses as the metallic taste filled her mouth.

Bucky pulled back slightly, his tongue darting out to catch the tiny bead of blood. His eyes darkened, the red in his irises flaring with sudden, unrestrained hunger.

“Oh,” he breathed, his voice rough with desire. “Sweetheart, you taste—”

“—divine,” Steve finished, his gaze fixed on the tiny cut. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both soft and demanding. The taste of her blood mingled with his tongue, sending a shudder through him. He groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips. “So sweet. I just had to have a little taste myself.”

Steve’s mouth was on hers again, his kiss deeper this time, interlocking hers. His hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her still as his tongue explored every inch of her mouth, tasting, savoring. When he pulled back, his eyes were practically glowing, a wicked smile curling his lips.

“Mm, delicious,” he murmured, licking his lips. “I think we’ve been missing out, Buck.”

“Definitely,” Bucky agreed, his gaze never leaving her face. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her jaw, her cheek, her throat—teasing, taunting, making her breath hitch and her pulse race. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll make up for lost time.”

Y/N’s body trembled beneath their attention, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Please… don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Steve asked softly, his lips trailing down to her collarbone. “Don’t kiss you? Don’t touch you? Or…” His teeth scraped lightly against her skin, drawing a shudder from her. “Don’t bite you?”

Bucky chuckled darkly, his fingers sliding up her side, brushing against the thin material of the nightdress. 

“Poor little thing,” he murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement. “You don’t even know what you want, do you?”

Steve’s laughter was soft, almost indulgent. “But that’s okay,” he murmured, his mouth hovering over the delicate curve of her throat. “Because we know exactly what you need.”

His lips brushed against her pulse, the softest hint of his fangs grazing her skin, and Y/N’s entire body stiffened, a small, choked sound escaping her throat.

“Shh, shh,” Bucky soothed, his hands caressing her gently, almost lovingly. “It’s alright, sweetheart. We’ll be gentle… at first.”

Steve’s fangs grazed her neck again, the sharp tips just barely pressing into her skin, and Y/N’s breath caught, fear and something dangerously close to anticipation tangling together in a twisted knot in her chest.

“You’ll like it,” Steve whispered, his voice a dark, seductive promise. “You’ll like the way it feels when we sink our teeth into you… when we drink from you…”

Bucky’s mouth curved into a wicked smile, his gaze locked on her face as he leaned down, his breath cool against her throat. 

“You’ll ask for it, darling,” he murmured, his fangs glinting in the low light. “Ask us to bite you… beg us to make you ours.”

Y/N’s heart pounded wildly, her mind a chaotic whirl of fear and confusion and something else—something dark and thrilling that she couldn’t quite push away.

“Let us in, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, his mouth moving lower, kissing the spot where her pulse fluttered frantically beneath her skin. “Let us make you feel… alive.”

Bucky’s lips brushed against her ear, his voice a low, velvety murmur that sent shivers racing down her spine. “Let go, darling. Just let go.”

And as their fangs grazed her skin, as their voices whispered promises and lies against her flesh, Y/N felt herself slipping, surrendering to the darkness that beckoned.

“Just one bite,” Bucky murmured, his voice dripping with wicked pleasure.

“Just one taste,” Steve echoed, his mouth pressing against her pulse, the sharp points of his fangs sending a jolt of fear and excitement racing through her.

When their fangs sank into her skin—Bucky at her throat, Steve at her shoulder—the pain was sharp and sudden, a piercing sting that shot through her body like a lightning strike. She gasped, eyes flying wide as her body stiffened, every muscle locking tight in anticipation of agony.

But the pain never came.

Instead, a strange, overwhelming euphoria spread through her, radiating out from the points where their teeth broke her skin. It was as if a wave of warmth and pleasure crashed over her, drowning out everything else, leaving only a dizzying, intoxicating sensation that made her gasp again.

Her body reacted on its own, arching off the bed, pushing up into them as if seeking more. The nightdress, so pristine and delicate just moments ago, now pulled taut across her skin, the sheer fabric doing nothing to hide the way her body shuddered beneath their mouths.

“Ah—” The sound escaped her lips before she could stop it, a moan choked with pleasure and disbelief. She could feel every pull of their mouths as they drank deeply, every flick of their tongues against her skin sending pulses of heat spiraling through her veins.

What… what is this? The question tumbled through her mind in a daze, but she couldn’t hold onto it, couldn’t grasp any thought that wasn’t focused on the dizzying mix of sensations flooding her senses.

The venom, or whatever it was they were releasing into her bloodstream, felt like liquid fire, like every nerve in her body was lighting up with an unbearable, exquisite pleasure. She should have been horrified—terrified—at the way her body reacted to them, the way her back arched off the bed, her lips parting in soft, breathy gasps. But all she could feel was heat, need, and the dark, aching desire for more.

Bucky’s mouth moved lower, his teeth scraping over her collarbone, leaving a trail of red in his wake. He bit down again, harder this time, and Y/N cried out, her body jerking as another wave of euphoria crashed through her.

“Fuck, she tastes good,” Bucky growled against her skin, his voice rough. He licked at the fresh wound, his tongue swirling around the bite marks as if savoring every drop of blood. “So fucking sweet.”

Steve’s hand slipped under her jaw, tilting her head back further, exposing more of her throat to his hungry gaze. 

“Good little prey,” he murmured, his breath cool against her flushed skin. He leaned in, biting down just below her ear, and Y/N’s vision blurred, a soft, helpless moan escaping her lips.

“More,” she whimpered, the word slipping out before she could think, before she could stop it.

Their answering laughter was dark and delighted, a sound that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

“More?” Steve echoed, his lips curving against her skin. “You want more, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s fingers twisted in the sheets, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe through the overwhelming sensations. 

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the word.

“Mm, that’s what we like to hear,” Bucky murmured, his mouth descending on her shoulder, his fangs sinking in deep. He drank greedily, his tongue lapping at the fresh flow of blood as he groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her body.

“You taste like fear and fire, darling,” Bucky drawled, . “Sweet like honey laced with venom. I could drink you forever and still crave more.”

Steve shifted lower, his lips trailing down her chest, brushing over the swell of her breasts. He bit down again, and Y/N’s body jerked, her back bowing as the pleasure spiked, her head spinning.

“Such a good little thing,” Steve whispered against her skin, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “So sweet… and so willing.”

Their mouths moved over her with a ravenous, chaotic hunger, biting and sucking, drawing blood from every inch of exposed skin they could find. Her shoulders, her arms, the delicate curve of her collarbone—all of it was fair game, all of it marked by their fangs and painted with her blood. Each bite sent a fresh surge of pleasure crashing through her, the venom making her feel drunk, delirious, lost.

Her nightdress—once so white and innocent—was now stained crimson, the thin fabric clinging to her like a second skin. Bucky’s hand fisted in the delicate material, pulling it down further, baring more of her to their hungry eyes.

“Look at you,” Bucky murmured, his gaze dark and fevered as he leaned back, his mouth and chin smeared with blood. “Such a mess. So fucking beautiful like this.”

Steve licked his lips, his eyes practically glowing as he looked down at her. “Covered in your own blood… our own little masterpiece,” he murmured, his voice a soft, dangerous caress. He leaned down, his tongue flicking out to trace the curve of her jaw, licking up the blood that dripped down her neck. “Fuck, I can’t get enough.”

Their mouths descended again, a frenzy of bites and kisses and nips that left her gasping, her body writhing beneath them. She could feel herself slipping further, falling into the dark, twisted pleasure they offered, every part of her aching for more.

Steve’s fangs sank into her shoulder again, harder this time, and Y/N’s body arched, a sharp cry tearing from her lips. Bucky shifted lower, his teeth scraping over the delicate curve of her wrist before he bit down, his fangs piercing the soft flesh. The pain was sharp and sudden, making her fingers twitch and her back arch as the sensation shot through her like a live wire.

Blood welled up from the fresh punctures, thick and warm as it pooled around his lips. The scent hit them both immediately—a heady mix of iron and heat, rich and intoxicating—filling the air and making Bucky groan softly against her skin. He drank deeply, his mouth moving against her wrist with a ravenous hunger, the velvety liquid sliding down his throat in a way that made his entire body shudder in dark satisfaction.

Steve’s mouth pulled greedily at her shoulder, his tongue swirling over the puncture marks as he drank deeply, the taste of her blood flooding his senses like the richest wine. The thick, coppery warmth coated his tongue, sliding down his throat in a way that made his body vibrate with the sheer pleasure of it. It was more than just sustenance—it was power, each drop surging through him like fire, seeping into every corner of his being, fueling a primal hunger that clawed at his insides.

Their hands roamed over her feverishly, holding her down as they fed—Steve’s grip tight around her waist, Bucky’s fingers digging into her wrist, their mouths relentless as they drew more and more of that precious liquid from her. The blood gushed over their tongues, soaking their lips and chins, the scent of it filling the room with a heady sweetness that made them both groan.

Steve tore his mouth away from her shoulder, his lips and bearded chin smeared with crimson. He tilted his head back slightly, the blood dripping down his throat as he let out a low, breathless sound of satisfaction. The metallic tang lingered on his tongue, each taste making his eyes burn brighter, his gaze dropping back to the fresh wound with a predatory gleam.

Bucky’s teeth dug deeper into her wrist, his tongue lapping at the fresh flow of blood that oozed from the punctures, the sensation making Y/N’s body shudder violently. 

“Fuck,” He pulled back slightly, his mouth slick and red, a faint trail of blood seeping down his chin. The scent of it was overwhelming, making his entire body hum with raw, unbridled hunger.

Steve let out a low moan, his body trembling with the force of his hunger as he bit down harder, the taste of her blood flooding his senses. 

“More,” he muttered, his voice a low, desperate growl as he buried his face in her skin, fangs sinking in deeper, deeper.

“More,” Bucky echoed, his mouth descending on her again, his teeth scraping against her throat. He drank greedily, his body coiling tighter with every pull. “I need more.”

Y/N’s vision blurred, the room spinning around her as her body shuddered beneath them. She could feel her strength draining, her limbs growing heavy, but the pleasure was too much—too overwhelming. She couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t fight it. All she could do was gasp and moan as they devoured her, every bite, every pull of their mouths sending fresh waves of euphoria crashing through her.

“Buck, stop,” Steve growled suddenly, his voice low and fierce. He lifted his head, blood dripping from his lips as he glared at Bucky, his eyes blazing. “Stop, you’re going too far.”

Bucky ignored him, his mouth still latched onto her skin, his body trembling with need. “Just…” he muttered, his voice thick and slurred, like he was drunk on her blood. “Just a little more—”

“Enough,” Steve snarled, his patience snapping. He grabbed a fistful of Bucky’s hair and yanked him back with a force that made Bucky stumble, his head jerking back, blood splattering across the sheets. “I said enough!”

“What the hell, Steve?” Bucky snapped, a wild, feral look flashing in his eyes as he licked the blood from his lips. He didn’t look guilty or apologetic—instead, he looked like he wanted to rip Steve apart. “She’s mine to feed on too!”

“She’s losing color,” Steve snarled back, his voice a dangerous growl. He shifted, his body shielding Y/N from Bucky’s hungry gaze. “I won’t let you fucking kill her because you can’t control yourself.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared, his chest heaving with labored breaths. He took a step back, eyes narrowed, but there was no hint of remorse in his gaze—only dark, simmering annoyance. “I wasn’t going to kill her.”

“Well, I’m not letting you drain her dry,” Steve snapped, his gaze flicking down to Y/N’s face. Her skin had taken on a ghostly pallor, her breaths coming in and out shallow. “She’s too weak. We’ll need her alive if we want to keep this fun.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a sneer, but he forced himself to take another step back, eyes lingering on the fresh bite marks marring Y/N’s throat. 

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice laced with frustration. 

With one last glare at Steve, Bucky spun on his heel and stormed across the room, his movements sharp and agitated. Steve sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he looked down at her, his gaze softening just a fraction. 

Bucky turned back to face them, he brought his blood-stained fingers to his mouth, his gaze locked on Steve’s as he sucked the crimson liquid from his fingertips one by one. He hummed in satisfaction, the sound low and almost sensual, as he savored the taste of her on his tongue.

“Don’t act like you’re not thinking the same thing,” Bucky said, his voice a soft, dangerous drawl. He pulled his fingers free, licking his lips. “You felt it, didn’t you, Steve? How much more she can give?”

Steve’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he glanced down at Y/N’s pale, still form. Covered with bite marks against her throat, forearm, wrists. She looked fragile, almost broken—but there was a faint rise and fall to her chest, proof that she was still hanging on. Barely.

“Don’t get sloppy, Bucky,” Steve muttered, his voice a low, dangerous growl. His fingers brushed over one of the deeper bite marks, smearing the blood there. He brought his hand up to his mouth, tasting the crimson streak with a flick of his tongue, a shudder running through him. “She’s not some plaything to bleed dry. I’m not interested in breaking her too quickly.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, a cruel smile curving his mouth. “Too quickly?” he echoed, his voice laced with amusement. “I see. You want to draw it out, don’t you? Take her bit by bit until she’s begging for death.”

Steve’s gaze flicked back to Bucky, a cold, mirthless smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Maybe,” he murmured softly. “Or maybe I just want to keep her.”

Bucky’s eyes flared, he took a step closer, his gaze sliding back to Y/N’s face, lingering on the smear of blood on her lips, the way her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.

“Most humans would’ve passed out by now… or died. But she’s still hanging on.” He leaned down, his fingers brushing against the bite mark at her throat, smearing the blood there. “It’s almost like she wants more.”

Steve’s smile widened, his gaze glittering with cruel amusement. “You think she can take more?”

“I know she can,” Bucky breathed, his gaze locked on the steady pulse fluttering weakly at her throat. He dipped his fingers into the blood pooling beneath her collarbone, his eyes hooded as he brought them to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied hum.

Steve’s eyes followed Bucky’s movements, the way his tongue flicked over his fingers, savoring every drop. 

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice soft, a dangerous edge to his tone. “If you keep pushing, you’ll drain her completely.”

Bucky’s smile widened, a wicked, dangerous curve. “You really think she’s that easy to break?” He glanced at Y/N, his gaze dark and calculating. “Look at her, Steve. She’s not some fragile little human who’ll shatter at the first touch. She’s still here… still breathing.” He leaned down, his mouth brushing against the shell of her ear, his breath cool against her skin. “Still ours for the taking.”

Steve’s gaze darkened, his fingers digging into the sheets as he watched Bucky trail his tongue along the curve of Y/N’s neck, lapping up the blood there with a slow, almost languid motion. He let out a low, breathy sigh, his lips grazing her ear.

“Next time, darling,” Bucky whispered, his voice a low, dangerous promise. “I’d like to have you for myself.”

Steve’s eyes flared, his body tense, coiled tight with barely restrained hunger. He reached out, grabbing Bucky’s wrist and yanking him back with a vicious snarl. “Stop playing with your food, Bucky.”

Bucky straightened, his smile turning sharp and mocking. “Oh, so that’s how it is?” he murmured, his voice a soft, dangerous drawl. He glanced down at Y/N, his gaze lingering on the fresh bite marks, the bruises forming beneath her pale skin. “Afraid I’m going to break your little toy?”

Steve’s grip tightened, his eyes blazing. “She’s not yours alone to play with.”

Bucky’s smile widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Maybe not,” he murmured softly, his gaze flicking back to Y/N’s face. “But I’ll be damned if I let you have all the fun.”

With a low, mocking laugh, he wrenched his wrist free from Steve’s grip, his eyes gleaming with dark delight. He turned on his heel, his movements sharp and predatory as he made his way back to the door.

“Let her rest then. But the next time I get my hands on her, I’m going to see just how much she can really take.” He paused at the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on the pale, bloodstained form sprawled on the bed. “And I’m not going to stop… even if she begs.”

Steve watched him go, his gaze dark and simmering with barely restrained hunger. His eyes flicked back to Y/N’s face, the faintest trace of a smile curving his lips. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear in a whisper of a kiss.

“Rest up,” he whispered, his voice a soft, dangerous promise. “You’ll need it.”

And with that, Steve pushed off the bed, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned and strode out of the room, his steps silent, predatory.

The room fell into silence, the air still and heavy, the faint scent of blood lingering like a dark memory.

Y/N lay there, her body limp and drained, every nerve still singing with the lingering echo of pain and pleasure. Her mind swam in a haze, consciousness slipping in and out as darkness closed in around her.

But even as she drifted into the oblivion of sleep, a single thought lingered at the edge of her mind—an unspoken fear, a dark anticipation that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

They weren’t done.

And when they came back… she didn’t know if she’d survive it.

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Ponytail Princess ||

Description: Pedri ties your hair in a ponytail before you go down on him. 

Pairing: Daddy-Dom Bf!Pedri | Subby gf!You.

Warning(s): D/s dynamics, ddlg vibes, Daddy kink, blow job/oral sex, deep throating, choking, hair pulling, m!dom, f!sub, dirty talk, smut with feelings. Minors do not interact. 

Note: I've got 40 minutes, let's see if we can do this.

.

"Come here, mi vida" your cheeks are aflame because you know why Pedri calls for you, his muscular thighs that are clad in some shorts spread across the living room couch that he is seated on. One of his damp tank tops cling to his freshly showered skin as he toys with a brown elastic band with one hand, the other running through his wet mat of thick dark hair. 

"Y- Yes, Ped–" your face tingles when he tuts with a lopsided smirk, head lazily tilted to one side as his eyes lazily trail up and down your body that dons nothing but one of his old jerseys, the silk underwear you're wearing underneath hidden because of how the article above it covers you. 

"Now you know better than to call me that, baby" your feet slowly patter against the floorboards as you approach him before you halt between his legs and gracefully lower yourself onto your knees.

"Sorry… D- Daddy" you correct yourself breathlessly as you settle in place, body propped up on your heels that dig into your bottom. 

"Good girl…" His words cause for an explosion of hot tingles to erupt in your abdomen as your nether regions clench in sensitivity and raw wanton. "Now…" The smell of his body wash and aftershave wafts into your nostrils when he leans forward to catch your hair in his slender fingers and collect them into a ponytail by raking the tips through your locks. 

Your eyes softly flutter as you meekly wait for him to prepare you for himself how he desires you today, clasped hands politely resting in your lap as you wordlessly appreciate his perfect features through your shy lashes.

Pedri hums when he has secured your strands in a firm ponytail on the top of your head, parting it into two and then pulling the divisions in opposite directions to slide the band further down until he is satisfied and assured that it is not too uncomfortable for you; his best girl. 

"C'mon, babygirl" his voice is low as his words are barely a mutter. Your boyfriend moves back to rest his tired back against the couch rest again but keeps one dominant hand on his handiwork that he has made out of your hair. "You know how to make it worth my while…" Your hips feel as though they have dwindled in on one another. 

Fuck, you need him so bad already, and he has barely even started. 

"Yes, Daddy" you move once you have been given the permissive order, obediently bending towards his clothed crotch to press your soft lips against the tent that towers through the thin material of his shorts. 

"Now…" Pedri's breathing becomes heavy and voice deepens with lust for he is just as affected by you as you are by him. "What do we say, baby?" The hairs on your nape rise when you speed up the peppering of pecks that you are bestowing upon his covered privates and the fingers that he had been running through your ponytail now begin to coil and uncoil the strands between them; subtly hinting what's coming. 

"T- Thank you for letting me touch you, Daddy" you respond like the well behaved little girl that you are for him, now reaching for his heavy sack with one of your excited yet coy hands and feeling his balls through the fabric of his shorts. Pedri hums in approval; a signal that you are doing exactly what he needs from you right now.

"Good girl…" He has to hold back his wavering words to choke out the shudder that threatens to escape him when the tip of your nose grazes against his bulge and unknowingly drags along one of his thick, pulsating veins. "Good fucking girl, mi vida, go on…" His praises help elevate your confidence and your fingers begin to touch and squeeze more and more of him. "Take it out, come on. Show me how well your Daddy has raised you" your holes clench at his filthy words that he utters with a nearly nonchalant face and your cheeks glow a deep shade of crimson at how sexily unbothered he comes across. 

You slowly trail your kisses up and to the waistband of his shorts before you reach for one of the strings with your teeth and bite down on it before softly yanking at it to undo the knot. As your hand begins to close around his nutsack to palm it in the way he likes, his snakes around the length of your ponytail. 

"Fuck, baby" Pedri curses when you arrest the band of his shorts in your teeth next and widen the gap by drawing your head backwards. You know how much he likes it when you make as much use of your mouth as you possibly can. "You're doing so well for me already" the faintest of smiles grace your features and you can't help but flicker your eyes up and away from his raging hardon that is now being revealed with every passing second to look up at him. His temples are moist with excitement, while cheeks along with the tips of his ears are rosy due to the intense height of his evergrowing arousal. 

"Hmmm…" You can't help but moan at the sight of his tip that spills out thick, pearly hot precum the moment it fully comes into your view, your greedy fingers snatching the rest of the cover away before your tongue darts out to catch it to avoid it going to waste. 

Fuck. 

Your thighs quiver at the warm salty taste. 

Pedri's cock is the prettiest you've ever seen and you are utterly obsessed with both its appearance and how it feels both inside and outside you. Even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to hide the fact that you could go on like this; seated on your knees with your mouth stuck to it, for days and perhaps even weeks on end. 

"Fuck, amor, just like that…" Your lips pucker against his stiff, beet red tip as you pepper kisses all over it, dragging your fingertips from his balls to the base of his mighty girth and further up the lower area of his glorious length to form a fist around it. 

You like to joke that the inches that your boyfriend lacks in height, he makes up for in the size of his cock to earn yourself a smack or two on your ass every now and then. 

But it is not an exaggeration by any means.

You needily hum again, parting your lips to insert his tip in the entrance of your oral cavity as you gently suck at the thick crest, occasionally stopping to swirl your wet tongue around the girth while the base of your palm caresses his scrotum and fingers dance along his pulsating dick. 

Pedri tightens his hold on your ponytail with a groan when your tongue accidentally glides over one of his veins that seems to branch out into two ends and you know you've got it. You scoot closer to him and push forward a wad of spit from the back of your throat, using your flushed mouth to spread it everywhere you can reach without choking because yes, you still have a somewhat intact gag reflex regardless of how huge your boyfriend is. 

Your boyfriend assures you that he doesn't mind though.

Because he enjoys the struggle his cock puts you through. 

You tell yourself small steps, and all.

Your hand meets the slick you've accumulated along his sensitive skin halfway and you pump his cock, tightening your lips around the upper half of the sex organ until you have to hollow your cheeks. Your lustful gaze peers up at him as he moans through his parted lips, perfectly shaped eyebrows creased together. Although your boyfriend seems vulnerable and affected, submissiveness -as always- is still untraceable on his handsome features. 

It is something you learnt a few months into being physical with Pedri; he is always in control. No matter the position or the act, he is the one who calls the shots and holds the reigns of authority between the two of you. 

But he is a fair and compassionate lover with a most heartwarming propensity to take care of others. 

So it is okay with him. 

He has shown you that in the time you have been together.

For once, giving up all autonomy isn't so bad.

Or frightening.  

"Shit, baby" he groans once you start timidly -for his size will never not be intimidating to you- bobbing your head up and down his cock, feeling your jaw tick because of how it has to stretch around his girth. You moan each time you move southwards and his hold on your hair causes a soft tug at your scalp, the sound sending vibrations down his cock in turn. "I can't–" and with that, he pushes down on the back of your head and readjusts his grip on your ponytail to control you better. 

Your shoulders push upwards as your body jerks forward in surprise, an involuntary cough rising in the back of your mouth because of how the sudden motion forces his length to sheath itself all the way down the opening of your throat. 

"Fuck, so warm and tight for me as always, baby" Pedri begins to guide your mouth -which is more moving it up and down his cock like a fleshlight- along his dick, throwing his head back to let out an inaudible curse when you finally aquaint your free hand with the base of his sack, since it's all too much for your one small hand or mouth to handle. 

You always need as much support as you possibly can when you suck your Daddy's cock. 

"Such a good girl" his voice wavers each time he jerks his hips upwards and into your mouth to aid the movements of your head. "Fuck, mi vida. You look so pretty all flushed and messy because of my cock" your own holes blink needily at that and you hurriedly pump him with your fist as your other hand roughly fondles his balls that always feel so amazing when they slap against your bottom when he is pounding his cock into you deep and hard. 

"Fuck, baby!" Pedri falls over the edge with a loud string of jumbled up curses and praises, hurriedly pulling you closer by the hold he has on your hair to feel the imprint of his cock against your soft skin as he fucks his orgasm down your throat in rough, short paced, quick thrusts that move through you in a pulsing fashion. "My perfect girl…" You sputter and heave for air as your teary eyes sting due to the way you are peeking up at him through your lashes, the raw pleasure on his sweaty face as well as the way his fingers dancing along your throat to feel himself as he defiles your swallowing tract ruining what little had remained of your expensive panties. 

You are finally allowed to breathe again when the height of his orgasm subsides and now he just needs a few lazed out sloppy thrusts in your oral cavern to relieve himself of any residual euphoria, the action causing your back to arch as your tingling lungs claw and pull down at any air they can gather, your chest jutting outwards to press against the couch as you do. 

Turning your head to the side, you lean it against one of his thighs as you softly pump his cock with your fingers, feeling his hold on your hair relax. You reach for the salty apex of his dick with your tongue and rub the tips of the two organs together, occasionally dragging your lips back and forth along the expanse of it and poking at a vein or two with the blade of your oral muscle. 

Your head is empty and numb with the exception of one mindless mantra that keeps ringing in your head and ears alike;

Finish sucking Daddy's cock, and then mount it. 

.

A bit longer than an hour, not bad in my opinion. Feedback and reblogs are much appreciated <3

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico is going to be smote by Hermes.

As he trudges through the muddy lake water, seething, he weighs each elaborated murder he has planned for each member of Cabin Eleven against how harshly Hermes will punish him for it. Connor will be flayed alive. Travis will be cooked over an open flame. Julia will be strapped to a rocket and blasted into the sun. Alice will face death by a thousand paper cuts.

And Cecil.

Fucking Cecil.

Cecil Markowitz will face a death so tortuous and harrowing that the constraints of the crime cannot be adequately covered in any mortal tongue. Crucified is too light a term. Nico is going to kill him in a way that is unspeakable — to hell with Hermes and his wrath. Nico is going to smite his dumbass children himself, and it will be worth it.

His boyfriend waits for him, lips pressed together and eyes trained to the sky, on the dock, holding several towels.

“Say nothing,” Nico hisses, slamming his sword on the wood and dragging himself up after it.

“Wasn’t going to,” Will lies. He immediately begins to cough, face turning slightly red. “Well, if I were to say anything —”

“William,” Nico warns.

“I just mean to say,” he soldiers on, setting all but one of the towels down, “that you look —”

He cuts himself off with a quickly smothered giggle.

“I swear to all that is fucking holy, Son of Phoebus.”

He lets Will maneuver him about, towel turning almost black with all the mud it’s absorbing off Nico’s clothes. He has to move on to another towel once he’s finished just Nico’s arm, dripping the soaked towel with a wet plop.

“It’s not that bad.”

Nico stares at him, deadpan. In fact he has to swipe pond scum out of his eyes and hair to glare properly.

“I am the fucking Creature of the Black Lagoon, Solace.”

Will bites his lip, hard. A burst of laughter escapes anyway, heedless of his desperate attempt to smother it, and the worst part is that it’s gorgeous and it makes his eyes light up and his stupid face looks stupid divine, when he’s giggly about something, and it makes Nico want to crush him a little. In the facial region, with his own face.

Except his own face is covered in stinky lake mud.

And Will is laughing.

Hard.

“I mean,” he manages around giggles, holding up a new towel to dab at Nico’s face, “it brings out your eyes, honestly.”

Nico closes his eyes. He lets that sit for a moment. He exhales for ten solid seconds.

“William Andrew.”

“It does! I mean, it’s really the perfect shade —”

“Romance is actually, genuinely dead.”

“— makes them look very deep, actually —”

“I should’ve listened to Demeter and married a doctor.”

“— and lake mud has so many uses! Most of the microbes on you are excellent for the skin. Who wouldn’t want to be compared to lake mud?”

“Oh wait! That is useless advice.”

“And you didn’t even pick up any leeches! Just all this dark, beautiful lake mud, as brown and beautiful as your eyes —”

“I’m returning you to whatever lab you were created in. Obviously you’re defective and I want a new model.”

“— in fact I’ll write a haiku about it.” He clears his throat. “My boyfriend is so hot —”

“Enough,” Nico interrupts, slapping his semi-clean hand over Will’s motormouth before things get any worse. Unfortunately the mud still caked into the lines of his skin contrasts beautifully with Will’s sparkling eyes, making them even bluer somehow. That’s a felony. “Also, that’s six syllables, dumbass.”

“I’ll revise,” he shoots back, muffled.

“If you promise not to, I’ll move my hand.”

Will presses a kiss to his palm because he’s a sappy loser who knows exactly what he does for Nico’s heart problems, based on the wiggle of his stupid perfect eyebrows.

“Deal.”

Nico removes his hand slowly. He lifts it back up when Will opens his mouth, threatening, but luckily he changes course before Nico has to make good on the threat, leaning down to kiss Nico softly, properly.

“I’m crucifying your best friend,” he mumbles against his lips. “That is step one of a ten step torture process.”

“‘Kay.”

“His siblings, too.”

“Sounds good.”

“Hermes might grind me to dust, after.”

“Trying really, really hard to focus on something right now, babe.”

“Right,” Nico breathes. There is still mud drying onto him and it is the Worst, actually, and he still has several homicides to play out, but.

But.

He can spend a little time kissing his boyfriend first.

(As long as that will keep him from spouting any more damn haikus.)

[hanjisung-enjoyer]

thinking about being drunk in the back of a car with minho…

tags: drunken decisions!!!!, bsf!lee minho x afab!reader, kissing, making out, spit, fingersss, no actual smut but kind of implied, driver!changbin is fed up

author’s note: not sure if this is considered dubcon due to drunken consent but if you don’t like don’t read!! both characters are functioning and understanding of what’s going on despite drinking, NEVER hook up with someone who is past the point of awareness.

purely fiction, minors dni

you probably shouldn’t have drank as much as you did- if your blurry vision was anything to go by.

as fuzzy as everything around you felt, minho’s beauty suddenly stuck out to you clearer than it ever had before. you never really took in how perfect his features were; his perfectly sculpted nose now scrunched up cutely between two sharp, feline like eyes that currently struggled to maintain focus on changbin, the designated driver of the night, as he attempted to hold a conversation with the tipsy man.

“min,” you eventually whispered. his eyes flickered towards you, to which you finally got to admire his dark orbs under a slight state of intoxication. his eyes were more than alluring; you’d have no problem stare into them forever.

“hmm?” he questioned, his voice low and husky to match the faintness of your own. you didn’t immediately respond, being too busy admiring his features. your attention travelled down to his pink lips: they still looked wet from the drinks he was previously taking down, glistening from the reflection of the moon through the car window. “…what?” he asked again, his voice curious yet playful as his lips turned up in a smirk.

“…nothing,” you reply. “you just look nice.”

‘nice’ is not the word you wanted to use. best friends tell each other they look nice all the time. ‘you look nice’ is the phrase you use to compliment each other before a first date or when dolling yourselves up for a night out.

maybe it’s just because your sex life had been rather dry recently, but what you really wanted to tell him was how hot he was making your body feel. just being next to him and appreciating his features made your face flush with a heavy and sudden lust. minho’s fierce eyes were lidded and faded, yet you still felt intimidated under his gaze. the way he was staring into you, trying to decipher your true intentions, had your thighs shifting together- a small detail that failed to go unnoticed by minho.

“i look nice?” he repeated in a slur. his hand landed on your leg under the guise of holding his balance when the car drove over a small bump. your lower region tingled up at the light touch. “you look nice,” he replied.

“no,” you simply responded, turning your face away from his. he leaned closer, his face following yours. he cocked his head to the side to try and read your face that avoided him so persistently. your cheeks were now visibly red, feeling unbelievably warm from his close proximity.

“no? but you always look nice.” his pretty lips were molded into a pout when you finally faced him again. his body was now extremely close to yours, his leg only a hairs length away from pressing against yours.

you tried to look into his eyes again, you truly did, but his lips look much more enticing in your buzzed state. despite minho’s clouded mind, he was certainly alert to where your lidded eyes settled on his face. you merely whined in response to his compliment, the only form of reply you could manage, before he took your cheek in his palm. “you know you always look good, right?” he practically purred, forcing you to finally make eye contact.

his fingers trailed from your cheek and down to your chin, and now it was his turn to stare at your pretty lips. electricity ran through your body under his intense gaze. your lips subconsciously fell into a pout, presenting them deliciously to minho’s view.

it felt like forever before he finally leaned in with a hum, kissing your lips slowly and tenderly.

the way he kissed you was a contrast to his feisty personality. his lips moved against yours in a steady rhythm, taking his time as if it was the last time he’d ever lay his lips on another human. for how riled up he had you, you weren’t expecting him to pace you like this. his hand that wasn’t resting on your chin rubbed at your thigh, pulling small noises from your mouth that vibrated through the passionate kiss.

you could taste the alcohol lingering on his tongue when he finally welcomed it into your mouth. you took initiative in intensifying the kiss, an unexpected bout of courage leading you to bite down softly on his bottom lip. his eyes opened momentarily, catching yours as you mentally panicked that you may have crossed a line. you didn’t have a lot of time to overthink it, because minho eagerly returned the gesture after a moment’s time, pulling at your bottom lip between his teeth as he groped your thigh with a little more fervor. the man was practically straddling you at this point.

you had to stop yourself from moaning out, nearly forgetting about changbin in the front seat of the car. as if on cue, you heard a loud gasp of your names coming from the front of the car.

“yah! what are y- in my car???” changbin cried as he met your eyes in the rear view mirror. your face flushed and you hid yourself in minho’s neck.

“we’re just kissing, relax!” minho scoffed in response, settling back into his seat.

“i don’t care! it starts as kissing, then kissing turns to fucking in the back of my car!”

in the midst of changbin’s complaints, you watched minho’s fingers lift up to his lips in the corner of your eye. his digits slid past his bow-shaped lips momentarily, returning to your view coated in a thick layer of saliva. your wide eyes followed his slender fingers as they drew closer to your face, your mouth unwillingly gaped open. he tapped two fingers on your bottom lip, an unspoken request that you gladly obeyed.

your lips captured his spit-covered fingertips, little by little taking in the whole length of his digits. your lidded eyes maintained contact with his steady gaze. if it wasn’t for the prominent tent in his pants that twitched at each swirl of your tongue, you wouldn’t think he was phased by your actions at all. it felt messy, you felt like taking everything he would give you, and he was absolutely dominating your mind.

his fingers curled down your throat, triggering a small gag that had changbin whipping his head around and losing control of the car.

“what the f- can you guys NOT?”

to that, minho practically lunged at you, instantaneously replacing his fingers with his mouth and pressing a sloppy kiss against your lips. the kiss sounded as messy as it felt. his tongue danced around yours in a lustful exchange of saliva that drooled down your own chin.

it was over as soon as it started though, or at least it felt like it. minho pulled his whole body away from you and once again sat back in his designated seat under harsh glares from the irritated driver.

changbin sighed out, visibly aggravated at the two of you. “minho if you’re not in the front seat in ten seconds, i’m calling the cops and asking them to pull me over.”

you peeked over at minho who exchanged an amused glance with you. he leaned over to level his lips with your ear. “stay at mine tonight?” he practically purred, his fingers ghosting over your thigh and his breath tickling your neck. you nodded a little too quickly, to which minho smirked and patted your leg. he then stood up and crawled across the body of the car, taking his place next to changbin in the passengers seat and muttering a small “cockblocker” under his breath.

in a clouded state of drunk and horny, you didn’t care much about the sober consequences that the next day would bring. you missed his presence next to you, but you knew he’d make up for it once you were both finally out of this damned car.