#do i wander through YOUR home uninvited?

[givemeureyes]

“stardew valley is so relaxing” i am struggling to make ends meet. yesterday i was swarmed by bugs and passed out and the resident homeless guy found me, dragged me back to my home, and stole half of what was in my backpack. the day before that the only doctor in town found me passed out in my OWN FUCKING HOUSE TWO FEET FROM MY BED and still billed me 200g in medical bills. i watered one plant and have become incredibly fatigued. the mayor i met 2 days ago just asked me to fetch his boxers from the animal farmer he’s having an affair with instead of getting them his damn self. i have never been more stressed in my life.

[pseudowho]

Fire and Iron

Forced to stay the night with Nanami Kento, the town's blacksmith, after tending to his wounds, you find yourself smouldering in his irresistible flame.

Warnings: 18+, fluff and smut, loss of virginity

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Your boots cracked through the ice-topped slurry puddles scattering the mud path in the village. The shawl bundled over your shoulders was not enough, and the biting cold wind whipped your cloak back, stripping its usefulness off your shivering shoulders.

Townsfolk waved to you, nodding, smiling; greetings for a familiar face, many of them grateful for your travels to their icy town over the years, lacking even a basic healer of their own, let alone one so talented.

Passing by the blacksmith's hut on your way, you paused out the front, feeling the heat bellowing forth like dragon's breath. You tipped your head back, the smell of ash and steel filling your nose. As you paused, moments after, so did the clang of hammer on anvil.

You opened your eyes, stinging in the brutal cold and smoke. You, once more, like a hundred times before, had caught the eye of the blacksmith. He, whose name you did not know. He, who looked but never touched. He, to whom you had passed so many thousands of hours of your life, and his life to you, through gaze alone.

Stood proud at the anvil, shadowing the forge like the door to hell behind him, his broad shoulders wore only an open-chested white linen shirt, and a thick brown leather apron. With his ashy blond hair, and the lines of his face filled with soot, he was ageless and unknowable. He looked to you, his sharp face quiet and impassive; expression always somewhere between fury and tranquility.

Your lips parted once, as if to speak, and it jumped the blacksmith to life. With a barely perceptible nod, and a grunt, he swung his hammer back, brought down in beautiful accuracy, shaping smouldering steel. The clang rung through you, your chest jolting with a short gasp, and you collected yourself, stepping onwards. You were sure you could feel his cool gaze through the back of your head.

Another patient; another healed. Another grateful family; another life prolonged. The days were short now, and as you stepped out of the house of rough-hewn wood and stone, the forest pines were bathed in dying light, netting the low winter sun above the horizon. It was a punishing journey home, on foot, and the horses were long since put to bed.

The blacksmith's hut held its own sunset, the forge open but unattended. You heard stamps, heavy feet and cursing. You paused in the burst of warmth, illuminated, listening. Curiosity carried your feet into the hut, the heavy wet hem of your skirts collecting ashes, absorbing the blacksmith's domain.

"Are you...are you alright?" You called, uncertain, "Sir?" The footsteps, the swearing, had stopped. You stepped further in, feeling the forge belch at you, almost excruciatingly hot now.

"Get away from there!" The bark, deep and commanding, made you squeak and stumble. Darting through the side door, the blacksmith looped one thick arm round your waist before you fell towards the forge, effortlessly lifting you round, his back to the furnace, his face in shadow.

He was close; close enough that you could smell the soft sweat, the tang of fire and metal. He hissed as your hands dropped to his forearm, and you felt a cold dripping cloth draped over it.

"Do you often wander into places uninvited?" He snipped at you. You recognised the cadence in his low voice-- pain.

"I-- ...you're hurt," you insisted, voice barely above a whisper. Looking up, your eyes tried to gauge his unreadable face in the gloom. You felt him huff, warm air across your cheeks. His arm loosened, releasing you. As he stepped back, turning away to close the forge, you saw the blacksmith's mountainous shoulders tense, twitching.

"It's nothing," he retaliated, brisk. You stepped forwards again, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. At first, he flinched, then begrudgingly allowed you to turn him, and lift the damp rag covering his forearm. A thick welting burn, running the length of his forearm, lay weeping and angry on his skin, already nicked with so many little scars. You heard his teeth grit as the air hit his wound.

"Nothing," you scoffed, "this needs dressing. Let me help you." You felt him flinch beneath your hands, hesitant. He felt his skin prickle under yours, finding such curious pleasure in your touch alongside his pain. Your beseeching eyes took him the rest of the way, and he found himself accepting you.

"I...not here," the blacksmith toned, his eyes flitting to the town around him, "if they believe me injured, I'll lose business." You nodded, rummaging in your overburdened satchel, until he took you gently by the hand.

"My home," he began, hesitant, your hand so soft and small in his broad calloused palm, "you'll...you are welcome. It is clean. Quiet. I...I will not harm you. I promise."

Aware of his size and strength, aware of the air of mystery surrounding him amongst the townsfolk, the blacksmith was quick to reassure you. Your eyes softened, and his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles at your words, electricity crackling up your arm.

"I know you won't," you assured. The briefest smile graced his severe face when you offered your name. You felt it warm you from the belly downwards. As he pulled encouragingly on your fingers, leaving the forge to die naturally with the approaching nightfall, you were led through the back of the hut, seeing a newly revealed sprawling cabin of wood and stone, at the edge of the forest. You felt the first kiss of snow upon your cheek.

"Nanami Kento," the blacksmith replied, welcoming you over the threshold. You smiled up at him, taking in his home; barely lit, at first, until he struck a lantern to life. You placed your bag upon a table, rummaging for salves as Kento began to build the fire, skilled and efficient.

You basked in the homely room; autumnal tapestries lining the walls, skin rugs on the floor and furs on the chairs, hanging herbs above a countertop, circled with hung skillets and pans. You relaxed easily into the sincerity of Kento's welcome. A frigid wind slapped the windows, rattling the door.

Before long, an enormous cast iron pot boiled with water, and you knelt before Kento, appraising his wound in the orange glow. Cleaning your hands, wetting a rag with clean water, you moved to clean the ash from his arm before pausing.

"This will hurt," you apologised, looking up to him. Kento's heart stuttered; how many hours had he spent, imagining those sweet eyes, those gentle fingers? Too long. Too many words unspoken over too many years. He was not used to such tenderness.

"I am used to pain," he hushed, smooth and barely audible above the crackle of flame, "my job has certain...hazards, after all." You hummed, swiping the cloth gently, removing dirt and debris.

"Still," you hummed, "I don't like to hurt a friend." Kento chuckled, and you felt yourself blush from hairline to toes at the rich mirth of it.

"We are...friends, are we?" His voice was low and conspiratorial, and you felt it stir a hunger deep within you. You smiled back, mulish as you dabbed salve onto his burn. His knees were parted, with you knelt between them, and your elbows rested on the thick muscle of his thighs. You felt safe, warm, held.

"All those years, passing back and forth," you sighed, teasing, "and not one hello? Just lots of nods," your stomach swooped as Kento laughed again, "and our friendship is just that. An accumulation of nods."

"Would we have stopped at 'hello'?" Kento retaliated. He caught the brief pause in your bandaging, before you continued. You spoke, uncertain again.

"Well," you hummed, testing the water, "offer me one now...and we shall see where it goes." Looking up, you gasped to find your face just inches from Kento's. He smiled at you, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips and back up again.

"Hello," he whispered, quiet and mischievous, "and thank you."

Your breath fluttered out; Kento could feel it against his lips, beckoning him.

"I...it's getting late," you started, and Kento blinked out of his reverie, glancing to the inky black outside his windows, "I should go."

Kento grasped your fingers once more, rising with you as he stood, your shawl shushing against his chest, barely covered by his soft linen shirt. Kento hummed, sounding grave, stepping to the other side of the room.

"It is night," he said, hands cupped around his eyes as he squinted out of the windows, "and the woods are barely safe in the day. I...I cannot allow you to travel. Alone, in the snow. You must stay."

His tone broached no argument, yet still you tried, packing your bag, your cheeks aflame.

"I...it isn't..." you stuttered, and Kento turned to you, chin inclined to the floor, one fine eyebrow raised. You took a deep breath, certain that if you didn't leave now, you may fall too deeply into Kento's insistent heat. Yet...you knew he was right. The path was treacherous. The snow would take you before the dawn.

"Would you like a bath?" Kento offered, turned away to save you your blushes; a gentleman.

"I-- please don't go to any trouble--" Kento swiftly ignored you, beginning to grasp the enormous iron pot, lifting it with stunning ease. His voice didn't even hitch.

"It's no trouble. I bathe every night. You can go before me." Kento carried the pan, stepping behind a folding wooden screen, and you followed him as if to argue, watching him begin to fill an enormous copper bathtub. Your hands shook as you began to remove your shawl, still blushing, so briefly overwhelmed before squashing it down.

Kento glanced up at you, pausing as he poured hot water, "This will take me some time," he said, apologetic, "please make yourself comfortable. I'll call for you."

You nodded, clearing your throat, hands twisting in your removed shawl. Kento chastised himself for admiring the soft curve of your breasts into your waist, the hidden delight of the swelling of your hips beneath your heavy skirts. He did not see how the steam rose fast, dampening his white shirt, how you could see all the way to his navel as he leaned over the bath. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

As you walked the length of the room, your fingertips brushing tapestries and grazing over warm furs, your curiosity drew you to a wide, flat trinket box, inlaid with mother of pearl, the colours an aurora in the rolling firelight. You stroked the box just once, before lifting the lid.

Your eyes crinkled immediately with joy at the treasures within; the box was full of lovingly crafted necklaces of gold, silver, pearl and gem, the chains finer and softer than any you had ever seen. You did not feel Kento approach as you admired them.

"I'd like for you to choose one," he offered, sincere, as you spun to face him. He raised his hands placatingly, a smile at the edge of his mouth, "not in lieu of payment, of course. A gift, I...made them with no real aim as to who should receive them."

"You made these?" You gaped, unable to fathom how such enormous hands crafted such intricate delights, "Kento, I-- they're beautiful, I couldn't possibly..."

If Kento had held any reservation, after hearing his name tumble from your lips, he was filled with the burning certainty that the jewellery should be for you, and you alone. His hand closed over yours as you moved to shut the box.

"Please," he breathed, so close, "choose one, or I shall give you them all." Swallowing, your hand hovered over a fine chain of silver and emerald, your fingertips brushing the gem. Kento hummed his approval, before picking it up, his calloused fingers all softness and grace.

"My favourite, too," he rumbled, brushing your hair off the nape of your neck as he clipped the necklace into place. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers on your neck, and almost ran as he whispered beside your ear, "Your bath is ready."

Stripping behind the wooden screen, hearing Kento amble around the room beyond, you sighed as the hot water enveloped you. Washing yourself with a soft sponge, cleaning off the grime of the day, your hand wandered absentmindedly downwards, fingertips grazing through your folds, naturally moving to relieve yourself of the building tension--

"I've left you a shirt." Your hand darted upwards with a guilty splash, Kento's voice only meters away behind the screen.

"Thank-- thank you," you squeaked, blushing, before climbing out, so naked apart from your exquisite new necklace. Drying on a soft towel, your hand hesitated over the shirt draped over the screen, before pulling it on over damp skin. It reached down your thighs, but left little else to the imagination.

Kento remained outwardly stoic, unreadable, averting his gaze as you crept out, arms holding yourself and squashing your breasts together, the colour of your nipples as faint as a ghost under the white linen shirt. He cleared his throat, coughing lightly before skirting past to the bath. You felt heat creep up your neck at the gossamer hush of his clothes hitting the floor, the shifting water as he stepped in, the way he sighed in relief, almost as if--

"I shall sleep in the chair tonight," Kento said, slow and considered, "and you shall have my bed." You felt indignation roll within you.

"Don't be ridiculous," you scolded, "you're injured, and this is your home--"

'-- and you are my guest," he grumbled.

"I won't allow it," you insisted, almost forgetting yourself as you approached the wooden screen, "I'll put some furs on the floor and--"

"You believe I would let you sleep on the floor?" He growled, furious at your suggestion, "I should rather you have me share the bed with you over that--"

"Fine. Then we shall share the bed. And there will be no more argument." You clapped a hand over your mouth as the words tumbled forth, unbidden. Mortified by your own suggestion, you removed your hand to speak again.

Kento stepped round from behind the screen, his towel draped lazily round his waist. You gaped up at him, stunned. He was...younger than you thought, his blond hair now soft and floppy, the ash removed from the lines in his face, taking ten years off him. You faced him, his towering form, the practiced rolls, peaks and planes of muscle belonging to a working man, his forearms so thick--

"Then...we should get to bed," Kento insisted, stepping past you, through a doorway to his bedroom, where you heard him rummaging for clothes, "it is late and I am up with the lark."

You hesitated where you stood, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, desperately curious, but paralysed.

"I don't bite," Kento called out, and you gulped down the sounds of soft fabric dropping over his body, still crippled with indecision and embracing yourself as he stepped out to put out the fire. You were lost momentarily in darkness before he stepped to you, the lantern between you, a beacon in the dark. You felt his hand close around your fingers again. You heard him whisper.

"It will become cold quickly, now the fire has died. Come. Stay warm."

You allowed yourself to be led to Kento's bedroom, hypnotised by the small swinging lantern. Kento led your hand downwards, placing it to the edge of the bed for you to feel your way, your fingers gliding through soft fur and cool sheets. With shaking hands, you crawled across to the head of the bed. Kento waited for you, flipping down the sheets, flipping them back up to your chin as you both slipped between them.

You heard nil but your own heartbeat. Kento faced you, the torch light embering behind him leaving him only just visible as your eyes adjusted to the light. The sheets had not yet warmed from your bodies, and you shivered. You felt Kento shift beside you.

"You...are cold," he stated as if in question. You remained quiet, gripping your hands to your chest lest they reach out for him.

"I'm...I'll warm up. Soon," you reassured yourself as much as him. You heard one doubtful grunt from him. Five minutes passed, and still, Kento felt you shiver against the sheets. Pulling a fur up to your chins, he felt prickles up his legs as one of your feet reached hesitantly out to touch him. He felt rather than heard you sigh.

"So warm," you whispered, your little voice soft with comfort in the dark. Kento's breath caught in his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside his soft trousers.

"Do you...need me?" He offered. He felt your other foot reach out in answer, cold toes wiggling against the downy hair on his leg. He felt a dangerous, needy arousal thread through him.

Reaching out his uninjured arm, he hooked it round your waist, chuckling as you squeaked when he pressed against you. You hummed in pleasure at the heat rolling off him, basking in his warmth, forgetting your awkwardness for a moment. Kento and you lay intertwined like that, with you softening like butter in his arms.

After a few minutes, you shifted against him, about to drift off to sleep. Kento must have been near sleep as well, groaning into your hair as you shifted, reflexively clinging you closer to him. Your bottom, completely bare with his shirt shifted up your body, pressed back to his groin. His clothed cock was hard and barely restrained in his loose trousers, and pressed between your thighs.

You felt a jolt run through you, feeling a warm trickle of arousal, so alien to you, seep out between your thighs. Kento almost saw stars as it dampened the trousers over his cockhead, and he frowned, his forehead pressed to your shoulder blade in apology and embarrassment.

"I-- I'm sorry, I--...it's been so long...since I've felt a woman-- shit, I'm--" Kento rested his nose against your neck, unable to stop himself from ghosting his lips there. You dropped your head back to him, and he growled in appreciation, nuzzling your neck, feeling your thighs clamp around the tip of his cock, your arousal seeping through his trousers and mixing with his own.

"I've never--" you whispered, blushing furiously, drunk on the feeling of his body against yours, feeling so curiously empty and aching to be filled. Kento understood immediately, and moved to pull back.

"No!" You squeaked, holding onto his arm, pushing yourself back to chase him along the bed, "Please, I-- I want--...you. I want you." Your words sat heavy in the air. Kento shifted behind you, at war with himself.

"You don't know what you're asking," he growled, fighting against you to remove his arm, "I am no boy."

"And I'm no girl, nor stupid," you reassured, "I'm not ignorant."

In an instant, Kento moved above you, on all fours, his arms caging you in, corseting you to his bed. He stared down at you, enormous chest heaving, eyes roving down your body, quickly intoxicated by your peaked nipples, beneath his shirt, the hem of it barely covering your sex, still feeling your arousal dampening his cock.

He leaned down, nestling his mouth against your neck again, tongue flicking out, tasting you. He felt you still under his lips, just a little mouse, in the jaws of a bear.

"And yet, all that knowledge is just academic, until you're crying out that my cock is too big for you," he growled, warning you away, barely able to stop himself. He felt you squirm beneath him, his head swimming with you. He was lost, then, to your tiny whisper in the gloom.

"Show me-- please." Kento shuddered, a drop of pre-cum seeping out of his cock, soaking through his trousers and your-- his-- shirt, to dampen your belly. You shivered, desperate to know Kento biblically, desperate for this fabled ecstasy.

Kento raised his mouth from your neck, reading your eyes, seeing such certainty in them. Tangling his fingers with yours beneath the sheets, he pressed the length of his body down against you as he kissed you, his other hand framing your jaw, gently encouraging it open to slide his tongue against yours. Your soft little moan was like music to his ears.

Kissing you deeply, learning your voice and your mouth, letting you learn the peaks and planes of his body with your free hand, Kento kept your other hand plaited with his own, fearful of leaving you to take this journey alone.

He felt himself shudder with the unbridled privilege of being able to worship you, jealously grateful that you had not been left to some boy. He was overwhelmed by the need to set your standards high at the first hurdle.

"Let me taste you," he murmured into your mouth, and you hesitated, unsure of what he meant. Swiping his thumb across your palm, Kento's mouth ventured downwards, sucking the skin of your neck, nipping before soothing the skin with his tongue, feeling you become pliable, supple as water. His fingers danced over the laces holding your shirt together, giving you opportunity to stop him, before untying them, freeing your breasts.

Laying his tongue flat over one nipple, Kento allowed it to curve to the shape of you, to know you, before drawing it into his mouth, sucking on your nipple while his hand toyed with and kneaded the other. He revelled in your whines, a high, keening mewl as you arched off the bed into his mouth. You felt his licks and sucks, curiously, between your legs, and you could not help but buck up against him.

Kento grunted at the feeling of your pussy pressing against his thigh, and moved one hand down to hold your hips still.

"Slow down-- let me show you," he ordered, gentle in his insistence. You trembled under his fingertips, your hips settling back to the bed. He rumbled his approval, rolling your nipple under his tongue again until you sighed, breathy and ecstatic, "Good girl."

In reward, his mouth continued to trail downwards, and your eyes fluttered closed, one hand coming to rest on the back of his head, your fingernails scratching through his damp hair. Kento shivered at the sensation, feeling his cock leap against his thigh.

When his mouth reached your mound, you squeaked out in alarm, flipping the blankets down to see Kento, illuminated in the orange light.

"What are you-- your mouth, Kento--" Kento's eyes crinkled up at you, and two arms came to loop round the top of your thighs, pulling you down the bed towards him, your shirt being rucked up against the drag of the mattress to completely expose your glistening pussy to him.

Maintaining eye contact with you, you trembled with anticipation as Kento poked his tongue out into a point, first grazing your folds, before stroking from side to side to ease in between them. The sound that broke out from you as his tongue stroked over your clit, hot and wet, was one Kento masturbated to for years to come.

You felt as though you had been lifted from earth and dropped amongst the clouds as he licked at you, sucking, stroking, tasting, the pleasure so otherworldly compared to what your own hand could achieve, that you felt yourself being rushed towards your peak at speed.

Twisting and squirming against his mouth, you reflexively tried to pull your pussy away from Kento's attentions. His arms tightened around the tops of your thighs, growling into you, pulling you back as you tried to scoot away. Your hand tugged at his hair as you arched, whimpering, coated in a fine sweat. As Kento groaned into your cunt, you watched his hips roll and hump against the bed, the sight alone enough to send your orgasm crashing through you, and you worshipped his name in a long, keening cry.

Kento let his laps and sucks become softer, languid, letting you float through the haze of your pleasure. Nuzzling at you, tasting you as you trailed lazy blissful fingers through his hair, Kento planted soft kisses to your inner thigh.

Moving back up, stroking his nose against your neck, Kento felt your hand move down his shoulders and back, before coming round to ghost over the front of his trousers. Kento shuddered, kneeling above you to remove his shirt, skin prickling with the need to feel yours against his own.

Gazing down at you, his eyes like whiskey in the flickering light, he grazed a palm from in between your breasts, down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head in one swift tug, exposing you completely to him.

Your hand still trailed over his groin as he knelt, and you were captivated, obsessed with the shape, weight and length of his cock in your hands, blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. As you grasped the lace at the front of his trousers, undoing it, and squeezing the head of his cock between your fingers, Kento moaned, ragged, leaning one hand sideways to support himself.

"Fuck-- I haven't-- not for so long," he moaned, low and husky, feeling your inexperienced fingers explore his cock and balls in a way that felt almost abusively naive. As your thumb glided beneath his foreskin, collecting the wetness of his pre-cum, exploring his slit, Kento hissed, panting and grabbing your hand.

You broke out of your reverie, blushing with mortification, tears pricking in your eyes as you began to apologise. Kento interrupted, shushing you, one hand still gripping your fingers around his cock, the other coming up to cup your face, his thumb swiping across your cheek.

"Not you," he huffed, stroking your cheek, smiling down at you with fevered eyes, "me, it's-- I-- I'll cum in your hand if you carry on." Your eyes glimmered, hungry to see how he looked as you pleasured him, and you moved yourself, leaning close, squeezing him again beneath his own hand, and he cried out in pleasure. You felt another drip of his arousal across your fingers, and you gulped, your tongue darting out across your lips.

As you lowered yourself to his lap, Kento's eyebrows raised in shock, and desperate awe, as you licked the weeping cockhead sticking out from your joined enclosed hands.

A low rumble ebbed through Kento, his eyes suddenly dark and hungry as he looked down at you, wordlessly using your hand inside his own, to pump the length of his cock. Feeling the intoxicating glide of soft skin over woody hardness, you let him use your hand to masturbate himself as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, licking, tasting the musty pre-cum there.

Every instinct screamed at Kento to chase his orgasm, to press your head further down his cock so he could use your little hand to jack off into your mouth, and he felt overwhelmed by the innocent licks and sucks you gave him, eyes cast upwards to see what effect they had on him. Kento moaned desperately, twisting on his haunches, fingers in turn tangling into your hair and coming away, clenching and unclenching at speed.

He felt the approaching rush of divine ecstasy, thrumming up his back in waves, his balls tightening up against the base of his cock--

Snapping, Kento pulled your hand and mouth off him, heaving you up the bed and back onto the pillows, before pinning you down with his body, panting into your neck, trying not to spill his seed over your belly. You were thrilled, ecstatic with Kento's pleasure, eager to see more of it.

You crept your hips up to his, trying to ease his cock into you. Kento huffed, his hand shooting down to press your hips down again.

"--going to kill me-- I swear-- no idea...you have no idea what you're doing to me--" Kento panted, quaking above you, one forearm planted above your head. As his peak ebbed away, Kento plaited his hand with your own again, above your head. He felt his cockhead resting against the smooth resistance of your entrance, and he suddenly felt so responsible for you.

"I don't want to hurt you," he huffed, aware he was bigger than average, but knowing from the fevered look in your eyes that he could not dissuade you-- not that he wanted to, at this point, his cock throbbing with urgent need.

"Please," you begged, "please." You felt Kento's hips press forwards into your soaking wet heat, feeling a slight sting as it met resistance. Kento rested his nose to yours, his eyes still feverish, his body still smelling of iron and ash and smoke.

"On one condition," he pressed, authoritative as his cockhead pressed deeper against your stinging resistance, breaking past thin membrane, gripping your thigh up to his hip as you trembled, biting your lip, tears in your eyes as you nodded-- anything, you thought, anything.

"Marry me," he whispered against your lips, and you squeaked as you felt a twang of pain, his cock suddenly nestled deeply inside you. Kento rocked his hips gently, shushing you, soothing you, his thumb stroking your palm. Not moving, just holding you as you adjusted to feeling so full, Kento waited for an answer.

"Y--yes...yes," you mewled, and Kento growled his approval against your neck, slowly pulling out of you before rutting back into your wet, tender pussy again, so intimate and deep that you cried out for him.

Kento rolled his hips, like a boat on the waves, whispering into you, certain he wouldn't last long; "First-- I'll cum inside you-- then I'll treat you like a queen...haaah...for the rest of my days."

You clung to Kento, lost in the ecstasy of him plowing into you, delighted by his rumbling groans in your ears, blissfully proud of being able to make such an unflappable man fall apart inside you. When his grip on your hip faltered, his shaking hand dropping to stroke quick little circles around your clit, Kento growled and bit into your neck to feel you rock your hips upwards to meet his own.

The sting almost completely eased, you felt quick pangs of pleasure, rising with every beat of your fast little heart, completely carried along by the eroticism of Kento's frantic groans and mumbles into your ear.

"My love I-- you feel so good...so good...god, I need to cum, need you to cum I-- aahhhh, fuck--" Kento felt your pussy clench around him, and he came inside you as you drank down his moans, fascinated by how they matched up with the bounding twitch of his cock, how his hips juddered into you involuntarily, how his face contorted, jaw clenched, somewhere between rage and serenity.

You were famished, starved of him, immediately desperate for more, and you felt him crumple into you, caging you in, shoulders heaving and spent. Kento chuckled as you peppered him with kisses, gripping your thighs round him and rolling him over so you lay above him, straddling him as his cock softened within you.

With his chin on his chest to look down to you, and a lazy lopsided smile across his face, Kento played idly with your hair, stroking your nose, your cheeks. He proudly fingered the beautiful necklace, resting against your breasts, squashed and plush against him.

"You meant it?" He asked, eager, concerned.

You hummed in delight, pressing a tender kiss to his chest as you nodded; "You had me at 'hello'."

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Would the anon who requested Blacksmith!Kento PLEASE STAND UP so I can credit you for breaking my brain.

[cys-fic-library]

Nighttime Affairs (The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Reader)

You and the Ghoul, Cooper Howard, have a complicated relationship with each other. One which involves him paying you some nightly visits when he passes on by that little home of yours out in the lonesome wasteland.

Warnings: 18+, smut, vaginal sex, fingering, bit of orgasm denial, bit of dirty talking, creampie, biting (its cooper i dunno what you expect, he's going to bite you), oral - reader receiving, complicated relationship, bit of yearning/pinning, fluff, cuddling, kissing, splash of angst, not beta read

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x gn!afab!Reader (reader's gender is never mentioned but they do have a vagina)

Wordcount: 4256

a/n: made the smut a bit angsty at the end there by mistake. whoopsie daisies. Anyway, like it says above readers gender is never mentioned. But they do have a vagina (because I have a vagina, and I want to fuck the ghoul). Nothing about reader's chest is ever mentioned either. Also I usually write fluff/non smut fics, and only tend to post that. I have written smut before, but this is just my first time actually sharing some of it. So like ;-; Okie dokie? okie dokie.

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics (much love j ❤️)

Nights in the wasteland were always a deadly affair. All sort of creatures made themselves known—both human and non-human alike—never having the friendliest of tendencies. It was why you always made sure that your windows remained boarded up. Double checking the door of your home to be firmly locked, before finally making your way to bed.

You always kept a gun hidden beneath your pillow as you slept. Easy to grab in case of a break in. Acting like a sort of safety blanket. Hoping that such a comfort would help you sleep soundly, though most nights you still found it difficult. Restlessness haunted you. Plagued your mind. Never truly able to rest easily—not with danger lurking around ever dark corner. 

 Sometimes that unease proved helpful. Such as tonight, while on the brink of sweet slumber, there had been a shift in the room. The sound of worn floorboards creaking jolting you awake. It wouldn’t be the first time some wanderer had tried to get the jump on you in the middle of the night. 

Hand quick to grab your gun, you point it at the new body in the room. Adrenaline pumping in your veins. Heart on edge. Ready to fire at a moment's notice. 

“Easy there sweetheart.” 

Your tired eyes blinked. Once. Twice. Trying to clear away your sleep clouded vision enough to properly comprehend the familiar figure currently standing in the center of your tiny room. 

“Cooper?” 

The Ghoul grinned at you in the darkness. Hazel eyes almost seeming to shine from the moonlight that managed to filter in. His head had tilted to motion to the gun in your hand. An amused hum leaving him. “Bit of a rude way to greet your guests.” 

“Wouldn’t call you much of a guest.” You lowered the gun and rubbed at your face with a sigh. “More of a nuisance if anything.” 

“Aw, your words wound me darlin’.” His words drawn out and mocking, as he feigned being hurt, before he had turned from you to continue removing his gear. Setting it all wherever he liked in your room. Acting almost as if he owned the place. Not a care in the world that he was currently invading your home uninvited. Again. 

You could only seem to roll your eyes as you watched him. “What are you doing here so late?” 

“Oh just passin’ through.” The Ghoul said with a casual hum. Pulling out his own gun, its barrel glinting just as his gaze had earlier, before he set it on your nightstand. The tossing of his hat onto your bedpost quickly following. “Needed a place to stay.” 

It hadn’t been a question. He wasn’t asking. Never really did when he chose to invite himself into your home. It used to scare you way back when you first met the Ghoul. You never knew if the next time he came would be the one where you met with a bullet. 

But you learned quickly that Cooper only ever did what he felt he needed to. Wouldn’t take the life of someone he found to be useful. He didn’t kill pointlessly like that. Everything had a reason with him. Even if you couldn’t quite see it at first. 

“Well why don’t just make yourself at home then.” You grumbled. Annoyed. A bit more bite to your words then usual. Though it hadn’t seemed to phase him in the slightest. 

“Already on it sweetheart.” 

You glared at him, but he continued to barely pay any mind to it. As you went to put your own gun back beneath the pillow, you had laid down again. Rolling to face the wall, and letting out a tired breath, as you tried to settle. Let the exhaustion claw at your mind and allow your eyes to flutter close. Trying to ignore him just as he did to you. “Just don’t make a mess.” 

The Ghoul hadn’t replied. Which had been a surprise. He always seemed to have something to say. But there was none of that. Instead there was only the sound of more shuffling in the room before the bed finally shifted with his added weight. Pulling you back from the brink of sleep just enough, as he joined you among the tattered sheets.

 Your bed was cramped. Meant for only a single soul, and yet that never seemed to bother him as he fit himself in how he liked. It didn’t take very long for you to feel the press of his cool body against yours. An arm finding itself around your waist, as lips sought out your neck and trailed over your skin. 

“Sleeping.” You said. Quiet. But still you shifted. Legs parting ever so slightly. An invitation you knew he wouldn’t refuse. 

You allowed him to take what he wanted—his true reason for being here—and he did so greedily. Without any ounce of hesitation, bare fingers smoothing down and slipping past the waistband of your pants into their front. Immediately finding the prize he wanted. Your breath hitching as they ghosted over your clit. Teasing. 

“Then sleep.” Lips caressed your ear. His breath hot on your skin. Rough hands had molded you into his liking. Feeling yourself growing wet beneath his fingers all too quickly, as two of them slipped into your heat at first chance. “Don’t bother me, none.” 

Desire bloomed inside you. Arousal coiling tight. He left marks where he could. Harsh kisses that had teeth grazing your skin. Fingers moving inside of you to pull any sound from your lips that he could. Touching you in ways that had you burning, as if you would be engulfed in flames at any second. Toying with your body and purposely bringing you so close to the edge without ever actually bothering to send you over. 

“Stop teasing.” You had shifted again. Trying to provide more space for his devilish hands.  Moving yourself against him to seek the feeling you so desired—that last bit of pleasure that he denied you so easily, and would continue to do so. 

“I thought you were sleeping.” His words had a teasing tone to their depths, as he nipped at your skin. Pressing himself closer. Grinding. His own arousal hard against your hip. Just as worked up as you were it seemed. But somehow still not nearly as desperate. 

“Was trying to.” You sighed out a moan. Leaning impossibly close into him. Hand gripping at his wrist tight as he worked you. Letting his touch consume your very being. “Hard to sleep with someone messing around in my pants.” 

The Ghoul chuckled. “Well let’s fix that then.” 

And suddenly his hands were slipping away. 

You felt your eyes open at the loss of him. Hadn’t even realized they were still closed until that moment. You had gone to protest. Reaching out in the darkness to try and stop him from leaving. But he hadn’t gone far. He had moved you to lay fully onto your back before you could really react. Your pants and underwear removed by him in an instant. Lost to the dark depth of your room's floor. Not to be seen again until morning light. 

The Ghoul loomed over you. Eyes amused, and hands gripping your thighs. He spreads your legs out for himself wide. Exposing your arosural bare before his gaze into the open room. Fitting himself comfortably in between. Almost like there was nowhere else he belonged in the world. Ready to devour you whole. 

And what was worse is that you’d gladly let him do so too. 

“Fucking filthy thing you are.” He had whistled as he looked down at the debauched display he had made of you already. Fingers moving below to run along your dripping lips. Sending another shiver of pleasure up your spine. “You’re soaking and yet I’ve barely done a thing.” 

You couldn’t help but squirm a bit beneath him. He hadn’t bothered to remove any of his own clothes, save for the jacket and gloves he must have tossed somewhere in your room. He never really did remove his clothes when fucked you. Couldn’t remember anytime you had even seen him without a shirt. 

At first you thought he had been shy over his predicament. He wouldn’t have been the first ghoul you met to have struggled with the change after all. But that had been a foolish thought, because Cooper Howard wasn’t ever shy. It was just another thing he couldn’t be bothered with. 

It wasn’t worth it to him to remove, simply put. Probably even still had his boots on at the moment. Trucking sand and only god knows what into your bed. You’d usually lecture him for it. But like with many things tonight, he wouldn’t give you the chance. 

Before you knew it he had leaned down to put his mouth on you. Sucking at your clit. Lips and tongue working you in all the right places. Fingers gripping your thighs to keep you open for him. Devouring you whole, almost like he had been starved for days. 

It didn’t take much of this for you to be brought to that edge. It had been so long since you last saw him—last had him—and his skillful tongue had your orgasm approaching rapidly. Your one hand fisting the sheets below while the other reached for his scarred head. Pulling him in impossibly close. Trying to keep him there. But true to his nature just as you felt those sparks begin to fly he stopped. Lips leaving you and letting your pleasure fall. Hot breath only fanning over your soaked folds. 

He did this often. Riled you up to the point of breaking. Allowing your pleasure to grow high before sending it crashing down again suddenly. Denying that bliss you always found yourself so desperate for when with him. 

Most nights you were brought to tears by it. Begging him to let you have that sweet release. Frustration with his teasing at its peak. Tonight you did not beg or plead though, not yet at least, instead you sat up to lean onto your elbows. Insult for him at the tip of your tongue, ready to lecture him for all he was worth, but any complaint you had quickly died in your throat.

 The Ghoul had bit your thigh. Hard. Whether to silence you, or just because he wanted to, you didn’t know. You just gasped. Trying to pull away, though his hands remained firm. Fingers digging into your skin almost too harshly and holding you in place. Only finally pulling back just enough to swipe his tongue over the mark he left. 

You had winced from the pain, the mark aching, but despite it your arousal only seemed to course through you still. Stronger even. “That was just mean.”

“You like when I’m mean.” He smirked as he sat up again to overlook you. Your blood still staining his lips. “Besides, you’re supposed to be sleeping. Remember?” 

“Yeah and who’s fault is it that I’m not?” 

“No idea what you mean sweetheart.” The Ghoul had let go of your legs then. Leaning back onto his knees to free himself. Belt unbuckling to pull out his aching cock. Squeezing himself briefly before guiding it to your drenched hole. Teasing at your folds.  “Just here enjoying what was given to me after all.” 

It was quick the way he entered. No ceremony or grace. No time to say another single word between you two. Barely gave time for you to gasp again. Sending a shock through your system. He didn’t wait. Thrusts downright filthy as he took you all for himself. Both of your moans and heated breaths filling the room. The air suddenly feeling suffocating and hot. 

Your hands had gripped at his forearms, hoping to ground yourself and failing miserably, all while his own fingers dug into your hips. You tried to meet his own cruel thrusts, but the rhythm he had set  was unrelenting. Pleasure all too consuming. He was right. You liked when he was mean. Liked how rough he was—enjoying how he just took and took from you. He filled you in ways that you knew ruined you for anyone else. And yet still you loved it all so very much. 

You were getting close again. Could feel your peak just at the horizon. Waiting to burst. You moved your hand. Fingers desperate to finally bring yourself that last bit of pleasure to send you over the edge that you’ve desired all night. The one he’s been denying you all evening. But of course he notices immediately. Knocking your hand away before you get any chance. 

“Not yet.” 

You all but whine at his words. Almost pathetically so. Tears finally prickling at the corner of your eyes from being denied by him once again. “Cooper.” 

“You know the rules.” He thrusts a little more roughly as if to punish you. A warning. “You take what I give you.” 

“Please.” 

“Look at you, the mess you are.” He groans out at your begging. Eyes burning hot with desire. Thrusts still unwavering.  “You’d let me do whatever I want to you if it meant I fucked you, wouldn’t you?” 

He had chuckled as you could only seem to nod. Clinging to him. Any kind of words from your lips caught between gasps and moans. You were so overwhelmed. The air was too hot. Everything felt too much but too little at the same time. And it was all because of him. The Ghoul who seemed all too good at taking you apart piece by piece. The mess you were was his fault, and he knew it—reveled in it.

 You could never seem to get enough of him, and he knew it too. He could give you everything or nothing, and you’d still thank him for each little bit of it. He was the same. Even if he would never admit it. He always needed more of you. Both of you were addicted to the other. Needed to feel him just like he needed to feel you. Like a chem neither of you could shake. Didn’t want to shake. 

Cooper’s thrusts had begun to grow sloppy now. His breathing more ragged. Hands squeezing your hips so tightly you were sure to bruise by morning. Your head was swimming. Drowning in the pleasure and losing it in the feeling of him. Mind too far gone to think of anything else. A mere mess of moans and gasps, as tears streamed down your cheeks. So close to unraveling at the seams for him. All just for him. 

When he reached his end he didn’t give you any kind of warning save for a low moaned fuck. Making sure to thrust into you deeply. As far as he could go. His cum filling you to the brim as he did. It was only then when his fingers found your clit again. Rubbing the nub in harsh brutal circles that finally sent you crashing over as well. Ripping your orgasm from your body like he was owed nothing less. 

“There you are, take all of me.” He groaned out as you squeezed and clenched around him. Breathless. Eyes watching how you came undone. Making sure to take in every bit of you that he could as you lost it beneath him. “Come for me darlin’.” 

Your nerves felt on edge as the pleasure wrecked through your system. Body shaking while you could only seem to cling to him tighter. Hands fisted into his shirt and your legs squeezing around his hips, trapping his form to yours all while riding out your orgasm. 

It wouldn’t be until the high began to dwindle where your mind would begin to clear again. A gentle throb at your core. Your body relaxed in his arms, limbs growing heavy, and breath beginning to return. The night's air starting to feel cool against your heated skin. 

He hadn’t pulled out yet. Just stayed inside with the mess he made, as you both came down from your pleasure. Your oversensitive walls still clinging to his softening cock despite how completely wrecked you felt. Eventually you had almost felt sticky laying there—covered in your own sweat and grim. You tried to move away. Trying to free yourself from his grasp, but the hand he still had on your hip stopped you. Squeezing gently. 

“Cooper-” You had begun to question him, eyes fluttering open and looking to Ghoul who still hovered above, but found yourself unable to finish when you finally met his gaze. Breath and words caught in your throat all over again. 

Intense. Soft. There was a strange feeling that swarmed there in his eyes. Something you weren’t quite used to seeing from him. Something you just couldn’t place. It surprised you when he leaned in. Made your heart flutter—stomach flip—as his lips found yours. 

The Ghoul rarely kissed you, and when he did it was rough. All teeth and bite, just like everything else about him, but this kiss wasn’t anything like that. There was an odd softness to it. So gentle, and unlike anything you had ever shared with him before, but it was good all the same. Left your heart feeling like it was going to fall out of your chest right then and there.  

 It had all been fleeting though. That fluttering feeling. That sweet kiss. Lips pressed to yours only for a moment before they were gone again. Like it had never happened in the first place. Just another piece of memories from him to add to your imagination. Never to be addressed. 

There wasn’t a word spoken between you as he finally pulled out from your sensitive walls. The touch of his body—his hands—leaving you, as he moved to settle at your side again. He didn’t look your way, but you couldn’t help lull your head over to gaze at him. Still stuck in that dreamlike feeling. Watching. Quiet as he leaned over the bedside to rummage around in his bag. Pulling out the vials you had seen him take so many times by now. 

You still hadn’t a clue to what they were really. Knew it kept him from going feral, but beyond that you knew nothing. Which is how he liked things typically. He never told you too much. That’s just what it was always like between you two. You hadn’t even known his name till quite recently. 

It was during one of the last few times he had visited, if you recalled. Between moans and bated breaths. Pleasure so close to reaching its peak when he first told it. Cooper. You still remember how desperate he sounded. Caught off guard by the unfamiliar tone from the Ghoul you were beginning to know so well.  Name’s Cooper darlin’. And you’d never forget the way he practically crumbled to pieces as you said the name back. Soul exposed to you in ways you never thought possible with him. 

Honestly, you didn’t even think he had a soul until that moment. 

The Ghoul hadn’t been back for months after that night. For reasons you could only guess at. There was a point where you didn��t think he’d ever be back to seek you out again. But of course he was always full of surprises. Almost half a year passed until you saw him again at your doorstep. Acting as if nothing had happened since last, like he hadn’t been gone far longer then he ever had before. Familiar bite and taunting words greeting you fondly. All back to his normal self—or what was normal of him to you at least. 

“Cooper?” 

He inhales the chem. Doesn’t pay you any mind in the slightest. Which is fine. Doesn’t stop yourself from shifting closer to him. Allowing for one of your hands to trail up his chest. You feel him pausing briefly at your touch, and your eyes meet his as he glances your way. He’s unreadable as he gazes at you, hazel eyes holding yours for a mere second, before they’re focusing back to his life saving vials. 

He doesn’t go to stop you though, so you take the chance to tuck yourself into his side. Head resting on his chest. Your eyes feeling heavy once more as you do. But still you don’t sleep yet. Not when you know how little time you have left with the Ghoul. So instead your fingers draw shapes over him, and play with the button of his shirt he still never bothered to remove. 

“Thought I told you to fuckin’ sleep.” His voice brings you away from your thoughts, as he finishes up with his chem. Sounding almost annoyed, probably was, he’s not one for showing much bouts of affection after all. Doesn’t even really like when you’re clingy either. But somehow that still doesn’t stop his free arm winding itself around your waist. Holding you close.  

“Cooper…” 

“Sleep.” The Ghoul’s voice had been quiet but firm. He had pulled his hat from the bedpost to wear again, tugging it to rest over his closing eyes. “Some of us got shit to do in the morning.” 

You didn’t bother to point out how he had been the one disturbing you up till this moment. There was no point in arguing with him though. He wouldn’t listen—a stubborn bastard through and through. 

Not that you could find a good reason to do so anyway. Especially not with how your eyes kept trying to flutter shut, or how comforting it felt laying there in his arms. Listening to his breathing. His very subtle heartbeat somehow loud to your ears. 

When sleep finally took you it would be peaceful for once. Something about knowing the Ghoul was there made you feel calm. Even though you knew that it should have been the opposite. He was deadly. Could kill you in a second. But somehow that hadn’t bothered you in the slightest. Not anymore, at least. Instead it made you feel at ease.

 Safe.

The sun would be barely rising as you woke to the early light. Gentle rays illuminating your small room in a warm orange glow. You had stretched, yawning, before naturally going to feel for the Ghoul that had invaded your home last night. His spot had been empty, of course, long grown cold now that he didn’t occupy its space. 

He never stayed for long. Any night he spent with you he was always gone before you ever had the chance of waking. It’s just how he was. How things were meant to be between you two. You had understood since the very beginning, all those years ago when first taking him into your bed. 

And yet still your fingers ran over the spot. An ache settling in your heart. You knew there was no reason to be sentimental. There was no reason to miss something that wasn’t truly yours. But there was a part of you that did. A piece of you that wanted more than this—wanted what you couldn’t truly have for yourself. 

The Ghoul, Cooper Howrad. You wanted him. More than just for sex. His heart, his soul. You wanted it all. Every piece of him. Craved it even. More than you ever desired something in your entire life. That thought of being his, and him being yours rattling around in that silly little heart of yours. 

He’d never allow it. 

Sighing, you pulled your hand away from his spot and sat up. Wincing. You had almost forgotten about it. The bite mark he left on your thigh still painful. Carefully you looked it over. He hadn’t taken a chunk out of you. Thankfully. Just left you looking like some sort of chew toy like he usually did. 

It wasn’t worth a stimpak. Not like you’d ever consider using one anyway for such a minor injury. It would be a waste otherwise, and being wasteful out here meant death even on a good day. 

Sometimes you wondered if that was why he marked you up so much. As if he knew you wouldn’t bother to heal them so quickly. You wondered if he enjoyed knowing that your body carried signs of him for days. Bites and bruises like some sort of possessive claim. Every mark from him a reminder of just who exactly had left them there in the first place. 

You doubted it all the same though, he probably just thought it was fun to bite and mark you up. Probably did it to everyone he spent the night with. You were sure there were others. Even if he’s never said so, you weren’t dumb enough to think otherwise, as sad as it made you to think about sometimes. 

Leaving bed, your morning would end up being the same as any other. You’d get yourself ready, tidy up the room, and eat what little food you had. After you’d work the day away. Maybe even head into town for a little bit before heading back home. The simple mundane routine so natural to you now that it went about like clockwork. Doing what you needed to survive before the sun would fall again. The moon taking its place easily in a sky painted by shining stars. 

And as you’d lay in bed once more. You’d look out to the wasteland through those cracks in the boarded window. Wondering if he’d show, eyes searching for any kind of sign of him. Waiting—hoping—for the Ghoul to arrive again. 

But of course, he wouldn’t.

[linopls]

kinktober day twenty-six

masturbation jisung x fem!reader warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob, talk of eating pussy 1.1k words

jisung handed you one of his airpods and you placed it in your ear and threw one of your legs over top of his. he adjusted the blankets so that he could rest his laptop between you and still see you, but it still covered the two of you up incase of any uninvited visitors.

jisung had texted you an hour ago saying that none of the boys were home and you should come over and let him blow your back out. just as the two of you were about to get down to business, four of the members arrived home and made themselves home in the living room, which shared a wall with jisung’s bedroom. 

you two were both too scared to get caught in the act and have been racking your brains for a solution to your guys’ problem for twenty minutes. 

“wanna watch porn together?” you suggested.

“we don’t watch the same stuff,” jisung responded.

“watching you get off will get me off. you can turn on literally whatever you want.”

“you want to masturbate together?”

and now the two of you were here, both of your guys’ legs spread and hands between them as porn video of your mutual choices played through the airpods. you leaned your head on jisung’s shoulder as your eyes wandered between jisung’s cock and the video.

you weren’t super interested in the video. you picked it out together but in all honesty the real treat was watching jisung jerk himself off. watching him know exactly how to touch himself to make him feel the best made you aroused beyond belief. 

he sent you a video of him masturbating once. you had asked once in conversation and later than week a video appeared in your text. you watched the way he teased himself with his thumb and he let his hips fuck up into his fist. you took note of his small quirks and implemented them the next time you pleasured him. afterwards he had asked you how you got so good at handjobs and you said you learned from the best.

you were doing the same thing now. watching how he focuses on his leaking slit. how he always holds in with the middle of his palm against the vein that ran up the underside and his fingers wrapped around and spread. you watched how he moved his wrist and how he tightened his grip at the base and loosened it towards the head.

your own fingers lazily rubbed your clit, gathering your own arousal with your digits to use as lube. very soft and quiet moans came from your mouths and jisung periodically placed kisses on the top of your head. 

“y/n,” he whispers. “i love you.”

“i love you too, ji.” you reach for his unoccupied hand and squeeze it softly. 

“you’re still okay with this, right?” he asks.

“mhm,” you reassure him, dipping your fingers into your hole again. 

jisung lets go of your hand and moves his fingers to his mouth. you watch as his coats his digits with his spit before his arm crosses over the screen and he takes over rubbing circles on your clit. you moan softly as your hips unconsciously move up to his touch. something about the way he touches you feels better than when you do yourself. 

you turn your attention back to the video playing in front of you. the guy has the girl pinned up against the wall of the shower and is eating her out from the back. the way the camera is angled allows for the stars to have complete anonymity, which makes it easy for you to picture you and jisung in this situation. 

jisung had eaten you out from the back once before. it wasn’t in the shower but during one of their concerts, he came off after doing a solo performance and met where you were watching from the wings. he quickly grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you back to his private dressing room and bent you over the vanity and pulled your panties to the side. 

“what are you thinking about?” jisung asks and you’re brought back to the present. 

“hm?”

“you’re thinking, i can hear the gears turning in your head.”

you nod your head towards the porn video playing in front of you both. “thinking about when you had me like that in your dressing room.”

“ah,” he nods and places another kiss to the top of your head. “i was thinking about you while performing my song. when i saw you in the wing all i could think about was eating your pretty cunt.”

you moan softly and turn your attention back to jisung’s cock. you realize that he’s stroking himself at the same pace he’s circling your clit, you try to match your two fingers to the same pace as well.

“you tasted so good that night. would’ve ate you out again and again if i didn’t have to go back on stage.”

you move your hips up to feel more of him and turn your head to face him, he does the same. you lock eyes with him, and although the lighting is dim, you can still make out the lustful look in his eyes.

“i realized, when i got back on stage, that i still had your cum on my face.” 

your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. the idea of him performing with your arousal on his face in front of thousands makes you dizzy.

“mhm.” jisung pressed his forehead to yours. “had me licking my lips like crazy. stays thought it was so hot and some fansites got some good pictures of it.”

you realize that jisung’s pace has sped up. you reach out your spare hand to grab the base of his cock and try to speed up your pace with the other.

“those pictures go viral every so often. and every time i see them, all i can think about is my tongue buried in your delicious pussy.” 

the video is long forgotten. jisung and his dirty words send you over the edge. you whisper a small ‘cumming’ before spilling onto your hand and the sheets. 

“that my girl. make a mess on our hands,” jisung coos, continuing to work your sensitive bud.

you look back to his aching cock and watch his hand work skillfully on it. you take your other hand, still slick with your release and rub it on the tip of his dick. he twitches and you can feel the vein on the underside pulse as he shoots his release into your other hand. you take your cum soaked hand to your lips and hold eye contact as you lick it clean.

“wow,” jisung sighs. “you’re amazing.”

“i didn’t even do anything, it was all you” you giggle.

“watching you cum gets me off better than any video,” he smiles.

jisung simps please rise.

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[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ NAGUMO YOICHI ; — 18:04. heartbreaks are best served raw. cold. wet.

࿄ ! warnings - bruh none except juicy angst. exes to ?friends /. note i have been having nagumo brain rot and it’s taking over my life. pls help. pls enjoy. ofc there will be more. no proofreads ok byeee

“you still owe me, by the way.”

sighing, you throw your keys into the straw woven coaster on top of your shoe rack. of course he was strewn all over your couch, bare feet on your cushions, head resting on the arm rest, tv flashing in jest.

you roll your eyes. “sometimes, i have half a mind to tell my elderly neighbour that no, they’re not just seeing things when they keep telling me a big, lanky idiot keeps breaking into my home after i leave.”

nagumo gasps, hand grasping his chest through his loose shirt. “idiot? words hurt, y’know.”

you kick off your shoes, jacket and blazer - in that exact order - before wandering off into the kitchen, ignoring the dramatic cries emanating from your living room.

it’s not uncommon for nagumo to just show up in your house, uninvited, eating all your food and making a mess of all your things. you remember the first time it happened, almost a year ago. he had stumbled into your bedroom window, all bloodied and bruised and your reaction time was terrible to say the least, because while you were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, his figure stepped into your peripheral and you threw the phone square at his already bruised jaw.

in apology, you had tidied him up and made him dinner… though now you wish you hadn’t shown him mercy back then, because he just kept. showing. up. you suppose he’s not just to blame. you’re ignoring the fact that you both hadn’t seen each other in over 7 years (after your messy exit of the JAA and an even more messy breakup) and now that he’s back in your life (back used in negative fashion) you just can’t seem to get rid of the him.

nor do you have the heart to tell him to get lost.

nagumo ceases his whining, yelling after you. “by the way, what’s for dinner? i saw some chicken in your fridge so…”

your eye twitches. “…so what?”

“so…i was thinking you might want to use that… to make dinner.”

you make a loud noise in disbelief, practically throwing the fridge door off of its hinges, “i’m not making you dinner?! gramps next door said he saw you come in 4 hours ago! and you didn’t think to come in and make dinner?!”

it’s quiet for a moment, but you hear the rustling of clothes and the movement of feet, so you turn to lean against the kitchen counter expectantly. the dark haired man peers his head round the corner, sheepish.

“y/n? are you mad at me?”

“no. i just think you’re stupid. oh, and i pretty sure you live to bother me.”

dark puppy eyes bore into yours as he steps into the vicinity. “the first part’s not true in the slightest but the second is pretty much on the nose. though, i’m not bothering you. you like that i’m here.”

“what’s this now?”

nagumo steps closer into your personal space, tattooed arms on either side of you as you look up and away from him.

“47 times. that’s how many times i’ve shown up here. in typical y/n fashion, you’ll complain and act like you’re annoyed, but i don’t think you’ve ever told me to go away.” nagumo ponders for a moment, finger on his chin. “now that i think about it, you haven’t. not once.”

you’re speechless. you’re not sure what to say and when you open your mouth, nothing wants to come out. truthfully, the man has read you like an open book, flicking through the pages languidly, hands bruising the spine. he’s smiling like it’s the truest thing he’s ever said - the only thing he’s been right about when it comes to how you feel.

pride is a very funny thing. if things were different, you’d grab his face and kiss him till he would shut up - well, that’s what you used to do… before, you know… you know. but this is humiliating, at least to you. even after all this time… you’ve let it get too far.

you huff, pushing his arm from beside you and you stand by a miscellaneous cupboard, turned away from nagumo, arms wrapped around yourself. “well, for starters, you’re wrong. forgive me for trying to be a good friend and helping someone out.”

“someone? that’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” the playful lilt stays lingering in his tone and it makes your heart simmer.

“… i think you should go, nagumo.”

silence sits between the two of you. nagumo looks at the back of your head. he sighs.

“if that’s what you want. see you around, y/n.”

he exits, quiet as never. he’s never quiet or silent when he lumbers around your home, sweeping and lingering. he’s probably already left your home in similar fashion. the fact makes you grab your own face and groan.

you don’t think you can be normal about him. maybe it’s for the best.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © MOOMINSUKI 2024. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[zeltqz]

MIND GAMES | ran haitani

length. 5.9k words

synopsis. final part - you finally lose your V to ran hehe

authors note: so i finally got over my nervousness and wrote the fluffiest smuttiest shit i ever oh my god my fingers just dont stop typing when it comes to this man ANYWAY ENJOYYYYYYYYY @sleeplessreader @nimbixan @christmassugarcookies @ransbaby@scarletbedlam @ranhaitaninumberonefans @wenumsmol @jordanisgae

Ran sets his controller down on his lap when you text him; not even wasting a second before unlocking his phone, lightspeed. Rindou rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head they almost get stuck, clearly agigated when Ran just tosses out his attention span the second he gets a text from you.

‘ Whipped ’ is what Rindou likes calling it, noticing how his brother would rather drop everything he’s doing, even going as far to cancel all his plans if the opportunity arises to talk to you.

“So you’re really just going to leave me to fight a 2v1 by myself?” Rindou’s question goes unanswered and he groans watching his character’s health bar deplete by the second. “Dude?!”

Hey, what are you doing? 

Ran clicks on your messages, totally unaware of the uninvited smile creeping onto his face as he types back.

Just playing some games with my brother. Why?

His tongue pokes out to his cheek as he sees the three dots popping up and down rhythmically as you form a response. 

“Ran, if I lose this battle, I will never forgive you.” 

“Shut up, you’ll be fine.” Blindly, his spare hand aimlessly searches around his lap for the controller to shut his brother up when his phone vibrates on his lap once more.

No no reason, I just wanted to talk to you, but you are busy so I’ll call you later

The little hope Rindou has left when he sees Ran’s character take a step forward, ready to aid him through fighting the monster is gone the second Ran’s attention and wandering hands go back to his phone.

“Are you kidding me?!” Rindou’s character falls, evaporating into thin air and his eye twitches. “Fuck off, I’ll go call Kakucho or something, you useless piece of—”

His rant lands on deaf ears as Ran continues to ignore him, kicking his feet onto the couch, eyes glued onto that phone like it’s his lifeline.

I’m not busy, c’mon, talk to me . Everything ok/?

His long hair rests on his shoulders, his slender fingers playing with the ends of it as he anxiously waits your response.

Everythings fine, promise. Just wanted to talk to u 

Stop being so cute its killing me honestly.

Shut up..

He loves the way he can hear your voice through the message, the playful tint in your phone as you’d push him away whilst trying to hide your flustered face from his gaze. 

It’s become his new favourite hobby, to tease you till you can barely look at him. 

We’re still on for tomorrow right? He asks and distantly, he hears Rindou talking shit about him to Kakucho from the corner of the kitchen, then proceeds to invite him over to help him finish the damn game.

“I’m right here, y’know?” Ran calls out, leaning his head back far around over the couch to look into the kitchen, snickering when Rindou puts up his middle finger and continues to cuss him out over the phone whilst looking into the fridge.

Yeah, tomorrow is fine. 

You respond back with a heart emoji at the end that makes his own heart beat twice as fast. He’s not sure why you have such an effect on him; how you managed to invade his thoughts at any moment throughout the day, how he would jump over any object just to grab his phone if it was at the far end of the room when it dings, the disappointed look on his face when he realises the text wasn’t from you.

On a scale of 1-10, how angry would you be with me if I came over right now?

He decides to test the waters and asks. If your answer is anything higher than a 7, he’ll stay at home and wait till tomorrow, but anything less than that; he’s hopping on his motorcycle and risking it all just to see you.

8. Stay ur ass at home ran my dad is here for the week

Fuck’s sake.

He frowns, untwisting his finger from his hair and sighs.

Bruh cant he fuck off and stay in his own house? So unfair.

There’s a short gap between your replies, and he uses it to head over to the kitchen, towering over his younger brother, placing the flat of his palm against the top of his head and drags him away from the fridge with zero effort.

“Ran, get off me !” Rindou struggles to escape his brother’s grip, practically fighting for his life as Ran’s lazy eyes scan over the contents in the fridge. 

He’s too tired right now to cook actual food and there’s no leftovers for him to reheat. 

“Ran, I’ll kick you.” Rindou threatens when he finally rids himself from Ran’s clutches. “You’re extra annoying today.” He grits out, dusting his clothes, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as if he didn’t just get manhandled in his own house.

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Ran closes the fridge with a sigh, moving to sit on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“Take it as you want, I don’t care.”

Ran rolls his eyes when his phone chimes twice and he doesn’t have to look at it to know who it is. Rindou clicks his tongue, grabbing his flask and downing it with ease. He needs the alcohol to get him through the day, especially when Ran is like this.

It’s an image attachment rather than a message and he opens it; immediately knowing why it took you longer to respond than usual.

You grace him with a perfect angle of your hands splayed over your bare chest, your nipples playing hide and seek behind your fingers. From the looks of it, your back looks arched slightly from the curve of your waist and at the very top of the photo, your bottom lip is being bit down onto subtly with your teeth. His eyes trail down to your stomach, captivated by the way your shorts ride up your thigh—

He needs to get his hands on you. Fuck waiting.

Rindou looks over his brother’s shoulder, eyes blowing wide and jaw dropping to the floor as he gasps an “Oh my God—”

Ran shuts his phone off and fights the urge to punch his brother into next week, hoping the hit is hard enough to give him memory loss. 

“Is that the girl you’re talking to? Shit, what’s her name?” He takes another sip of his drink when Ran brushes past him to grab his shoes. “Oi, don’t ignore me!”

“Just shut up, I gotta go.” 

You fiddle with the tips of your nails anxiously, fidgeting on your bed, physically unable to stay still as you allow your thoughts to take control. Does he not like it? Is it too much? Is that why he hasn’t responded? Did I cross a line? Sending it without permission? Did he block me?

The last one seemed to have worked in heightening your anxiety, fingers now moving to delete the image and pretend you had never sent it; though you know he saw it because the words READ staring at you like a slap in the face.

You almost jump out of your skin when your phone vibrates from underneath your body five minutes later, hidden deep within your sheets as you fish for it. 

Come outside.

It’s a simple message, yet still has your brain muddled. Once connecting the dots, your face flushes, mouth parting slightly and dart your eyes to your keyboard.

Don’t tell me youre outside…. 

You walk over to your window and slam a  hand down on your windowsill to stabilize yourself as you look outside, spotting Ran’s motorcycle at the end of the street. 

You’ve gotta be kidding me, you think, pulling your phone out and dialing his number you shamelessly admit you know by heart.

He doesn’t even let it ring for two beeps before he’s answering, repeating his text message out loud as he says, “Come outside.”

You always forget how deep his voice is, how it has that subtly provocative undertone with a bite of playfulness when he’s in the mood. “Ran—I can’t, you know this—” The deep rumble of your dads laughter fills the house; he’s always so loud, as if he knows you’re planning to sneak out and is laughing extra loud downstairs to remind you he’s home. “My dad will ask questions.”

“Well, you shoulda thought ���bout that before you sent me that, shouldn’t you?”

You groan, fingers scrunching up a lone piece of paper on your windowsill as you eye his motorcycle again, eyes flitting across the room to your jacket resting your desk chair. “Fine…” You grumble, keeping him on the line as you slip out of your shorts and into some jeans, grabbing your coat on the way out.

You intended to sneak out successfully, making as little noise as possible when you walk past the hallway behind the living room but the door let you down, creaking open way too loudly and your dad snapped his head towards the door. 

“You going somewhere?”

“No—yeah, I mean I wanted to get something from the store, real quick. I’m craving a snack.”

You put on your best innocent smile, ensuring your face is sweet and forgiving despite the fact you’re leaving to go get fucked by your boyfriend (?). 

“Oh!” Your mother chirps from the kitchen, “can you buy some more strawberries for me? I need some for my lunch tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” You slam the door shut before they even got to say goodbye, hands shaking on the knob of your door as you take a deep breath and make your way over to the end of the street.

He’s distracted on his phone when you sneak up to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Hi.”

He can feel you shaking when he slides his hands down your arm, tugging you to sit in front of him on his bike. “Hey, you cold? You’re shaking like a lot.”

“No, I’m just…nervous.” You admit sheepishly, unable to look him in the face. He lifts your face up with a finger on your chin, pressing a reassuring kiss to your nose that has you smiling up at him.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“It hurts though…”

He leans forward, turning off his motorcycle engine and lights, now leaving the street in total darkness aside from the streetlamps. “We can take it slow, if you want.”

“No, not that. I wanna do it today, that’s why I sent you the…yeah.”

He shifts your body closer and you part your legs on either side of the bike for stability, hand gripping onto his shirt for better balance. “That photo was fuckin’ sexy.” You stiffen, blood turning cold as his hands wander along your spine, holding you close to him as his lips mark up the exposed skin of your collarbone. “You’re so fuckin’ hot, you have no clue what you do t’me.” He sucks down, humming lowly when your fingers loop around his chain and tug ever so gently to grab his attention.

“What do I do to you?”

It’s a genuine question, though you have a brief idea, you want to know if you affect him the same way he affects you; how his shirt rides up when he stretches, teasing you with just an inch of his faint v-line or hearing his voice in the mornings when you call him is enough to leave a wet stain in your panties.

His hands slither down your spine and you chew on the inside of your cheek for a moment when you feel it. 

It being something hard inside his pants pressing against your upper thigh. “Oh.”

He doesn’t answer, too interested in grabbing onto your breast, groping it slightly and loses himself in the faint perfume scent lingering on the skin of your neck.

“Ran, not here.” You giggle when he kisses his way up to your ear, puffs of air from his nose tickling against your eardrum. “Not here, please.” It’s a miracle there’s no passerbys this late at night, just imagining the look on strangers faces as they watch Ran feel you up on his bike is enough to have you fidgeting from slight embarrassment; yet you shove down the idea of being caught fucking in public somewhere deep inside.

He smells so good, the scent amplifies ten-fold when you shift back on the bike, dipping your face in the crevice of his neck, nose touching the neckline of his crew-neck black t-shirt.

“You’re in a cuddly mood today,” He says amused, slightly nervous, slight shivers running down his body when he comprehends how close you are. He tilts his head to the side, brushing his cheek against the side of your head and golds you steady, fingers digging into your waist. “How long we got?”

“Hm,” your lips vibrate against his neck as you hum slowly, head deep in calculations, “not that long if I’m being honest, but I can risk sacrificing an hour or two.”

“Yeah? What about the strawberries for your ma’?” 

His eyes squeeze shut when you attach your lips to his neck, slowly grinding your hips down against his lap, the slow roll gives your clit the friction it craves.

“She can live without them,” you whisper, hushed in spite of yourself as he lifts you off his bike easily and you maneovuer yourself to sit behind him, locking your arms around his midriff, digging your face into the back of his neck. 

The ride back to his house doesn’t take long and he doesn’t even bother locking his bike , preferring to lace his fingers between yours gently before he’s leading you inside.

The sounds of battle music blasts from the living room and a quick peek confirms that his brother is playing Street Fighter 2 with another guy that you haven’t met before. 

Ran places his hand around your waist, snatching your attention away from his brother and back to him. “Everything okay?” You nod up at him, fixing him with your best fake smile but he sees through it easily. “Nah, you’re not.”

You sigh, hating how perceptive he can be at times. “I thought we’d be alone…”

“We are, they’re deaf as hell, they won’t be able to hear anything.” When you don’t look convinced enough, he calls out his brother's name loudly, but he’s either ignoring him, or he can’t hear him as he talks to Kakucho, nudging him whenever he moves his character the wrong way. “See, trust me.” He squeezes your hand twice, reassuring you and you nod your head and let him lead you upstairs.

You take a seat on his bed when the reality of the situation hits you. 

You’re really about to lose your virginity.

The bed dips when he moves to sit next to you and your hands twitch nervously on your lap, biting the softness of your cheek to calm you down when he places his hand on your thigh.

“You’re shaking again.”

“I—” You bite your tongue, and swallow thickly, hoping your nervousness goes down with it. “I know I’m ready, I just…I’m just scared.”

You watch the slow rise of his brows. “I’ll go extra slow, just for you, ‘kay?” He tips forward to kiss you again, proving his previous sentence with his extra slow movements. Your shaky hand falls to the side of his face, holding him close to you as he shifts you to lay on his pillow, hovering over you.

He breaks the kiss, bending down to peck at your ear. Your giggle is almost music to his ears and your legs kick around as you mutter “It’s ticklish.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.” He sucks on your lobe harder, one hand moving downwards to wrap your legs around his waist to stop you from kicking him.

“I don’t like my ears.” You tell him, gently trying to push him away, pawing at his chest, laughing when his breath tickles your eardrum once more, “Ran!”

“You’re so beautiful though,” he pulls away, forehead to yours as he looks down at you, “best looking ears I’ve ever seen.”

“You clearly haven’t seen much ears then.” He deadpans at you and you roll your eyes, retracting your statement, “‘kay, I’m sorry.” You close your eyes when he bends down to kiss your nose, cheek, covering your face with kisses as he mumbles how perfect you are after each kiss. 

Your hands cup his face, thumbs stroking at his cheekbones as you hold his face up, enticing him into a trance with your kisses, back arching off the bed involuntarily with each groan that spills from his mouth.

“I’m gonna undress you now, alright?” He says between kisses and you suck in a harsh breath through clenched teeth before nodding, too nervous to provide a verbal response. 

He sits back on his knees and gently tug on your shirt, lifting your arms up to slide the shirt over your head and onto the edge of his bed. You sit up slightly, unfastening the straps on your bra and letting it fall, watching how his eyes stay glued to your chest as if he’s never seen a pair of breasts before. 

“...Ran, you’re staring.” You say, pointing out the obvious, thinking he would look away by now but you have to grip onto his face, and force his gaze up, “My eyes are up here.”

“I know where they are.” 

If he could kiss every part of your body he would. He looks down at you underneath him, eyes glistening with want and habitually, you tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, hands rising to wrap around his neck, craving his lips once more.

With confidence, Ran’s tongue slips into your mouth, slidinig passionately along your own. It’s almost embarrassing how pliant he makes you, how you're lifting your back from the bed slightly to press your chest against his own.

He grins at the soft moans you let out with each kiss, drinking up each mewl that leaves you when your hands wander downwards, slipping under his shirt, dipping your fingers along the crevices of his abs. 

“Take—” You take breaks between kisses to tug hopelessly at his shirt, “I want this off.”

“Someone’s bossy today.” You watch up in reverence as his shirt lifts off his body, tongue poking out to lick your bottom lip. It’s probably swollen by now, how hard you’ve been biting it but you don’t care, not when he hovers above you with his bare arms beside your head.

Your mouth is dry when he leans down to kiss you again, but keeps it short this time, breaking the kiss before you could even melt into the pleasure. 

His fingers dance their way along your thighs, making their way to the zipper of your jeans. His head drops down to look before it’s being lifted by your hands holding his face, “Don’t look…”

“I’m gonna see it regardless, y’know that right?”

Yeah, you know that; but you still feel embarrassed being fully naked and vulnerable in front of someone else for the first time. “I know…”

His fingers test the waters once more, fingernail scraping against the zipper until your legs are complying, spreading ever so slightly, just enough for him to wrap them around his waist as he unzips your jeans, hooking a finger onto your panties to tug them all off at once.

Cold air hits your bare cunt and you almost shiver when he bends down to your stomach, kissing on your skin around your bellybutton, slowly making his way down to your pelvis.

It feels extra sensitive there, butterflies frollocking around your stomach as he practically makes out with your skin. It’s wet when his tongue slides out, licking a stripe from your pelvis to your thighs, squishing them with his fingers as he marks you. He wasn’t lying when he said he would take it slow—now you’re actually regretting his slow pace, wanting to be touched down there.

“Ran—” Your voice trails off into a gasp when he bites down on your thigh, hard enough to probably leave teeth marks. “C’mon…please.” You whisper, covering your eyes with your hands, too flustered to look at him between your legs.

You can’t help but squeal when his nose brushes your clit ever so gently, his wet tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking lightly.

“Oh—oh my god—” He smiles between your legs, eyes closing when he hears your moan, your legs enclosing around his head as you slap a hand over your mouth, biting at your palm when he flicks your clit with his tongue swiftly, physically unable to control your squirming.. “Ran, mm, oh fuck, fuck, yes!” 

“Yeah?” He dives back in, drowning in your slick as his fingers tickle your entrance, “Gonna put my fingers in now, ‘kay?” He takes your soft ‘mmhm, mhm’ as a sign to continue. He pushes in slowly, fighting back your body’s reaction as  he inches his finger in deeper. You almost kick him in the back when you feel it, slow, lazy yet calculated strokes with his index finger.

The pleasure is almost too much, biting your lip, throwing your head back to sink into the softness of his pillows. Your pussy clamps desperately around his long, slender finger. Ran groans, detaching his mouth from your slit, “Fuck, why are you so hot? It’s—” He twists his finger inside you, stretching your soft walls out and gives your clit another suck, “It’s fuckin’ killin’ me.”

Your body feels like jelly from just a single finger, the continuous strokes of his tongue against your clit have stars forming behind the abyss in your mind, eyes squeezed shut as you feel another finger at your entrance. “Don’t stop—fuck—please, don’t st— mm—” 

You’re babbling incoherent sentences, limbs practically numb as you try to squirm away from the overstimulation, insides feeling like they’re being electrecuted. “Wait, I—I think I’m—” 

You’ve never came before so the feeling was unusual to you. The warmth pooling around some unknown area in your stomach had you practically suffocating the man beneath your legs as he loudly licks up at the slick from your cunt as he finger fucks you into heaven.

“Clenching around me so tight, you’re close, aren’t you?”

“I think—” You swallow hard, cursing under your breath when he presses against that spot. He knows he’s hit it because the blood flow from his finger temporarily disconnets with how tight your walls clamp around it, moaning louder than he’s ever heard you before and your hand flys to the headboard to stabalise yourself as you come undone on his hands. You felt liquids squirt from your body, breaking out of the spell he put you under the moment you felt it—scared that you might’ve…

“A squirter, huh?” He says from between your legs, goosebumps forming on your forearms when he drags his tongue over your cunt one last time as a way of cleaning you up. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

“It’s not normal? Oh god…” You hide your face in your hands as he laughs, moving to sit on his knees and pulls you closer by your ankles, trying to remove your hands from your face but they’re practically glued on.

“Stop hiding from me, it was hot.”

“I thought I…” You lower your voice, too embarrassed to even finish the sentence, “I thought I peed.” He snorts and you hit him across the chest, “It’s not funny!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute.”

Your cheeks heat up when he kisses you again. The taste of the kiss was slightly bitter and you instantly knew that was because of you. 

“You ready?” His voice is breathless as he parts away from your lips, wiping his lower face and mouth with his arm.

“Yeah.” 

He reaches forward, fluffing the pillows to get you as comfy as can be and you smile up at him, watching hypnotised as he tugs his pants down. You now understand his infatuation with your breasts because you’re lost in the sight of his cock, watching witth a dry mouth as his cock bobs free from its restraints.

There’s something white leaking from the tip that you’re sure is cum and you bite your lip when you see him squeezing tight at the base of his cock, dragging a lazy hand up to the top, groaning as he positions himself between your legs.

You blindly reach out of it, almost knocking the wind out from his lungs when you grab it, smaller fingers failing to wrap around his own. “Hey, what are you—” His words get lost when you bend down and ready to stick your tongue out before he stops you, “What are you doing?”

“I wanna taste it.” You say it like it's obvious, darting your eyes down to the leaking precum seeping out from the tip bit by bit, but he stops you, lifting you from your bent position with a single hand on your bicep. 

It’s weirdly attractive how he can just lift you with no effort, manhandle you to the way he wants and before you know it you’re back on the bed, head resting on his floofed up pillows and he’s hovering over you.

He reaches inside his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and rolls it onto his cock as he says “As much as I’d love to see your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, babe, it’s not abouot me tonight.” His eyes trail down your body, nudging his cock against your cunt, the tip brushing agaisnt your clit in slow circles and you close your eyes to steady yourself.

Once ready, you nod at him and he bites his lip, eyes never leaving your body as he slowly presses into you. Your hands fly up to his arms, digging your nails into his skin and try your hardest to stifle your moan. 

There’s a stinging pressure the second his cockhead enters, your body fighting to accept him in and you start to panic. “Wait—” you tap at his arm rapidly, “I don’t think it’s gonna fit—I—”

“Shhh,” he bends down to kiss you, sucking on your bottom lip to comfort you, “listen to me.” You force your eyes open to look into his own honest ones, “You’re so tense, it’s gonna hurt but it’ll be quicker if you relax, ‘kay?”

“Okay…” You eyes flutter shut when you feel him press inside again, the head of his cock is fully engulfed and you feel the burn between your thighs as your walls stretch to accommodate his length, “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, it burns Ran—”

“I know, I know, almost there, promise.”

The rest of his cock slips inside almost easily and he lets out a gutted moan when he bottoms out, his hips pressing against yours and he has to physically stop himself from fucking you into the sheets, waiting for you to stop squirming underneath him. 

“Is it in?” You whisper and he lifts a hand up, thumb swiping at the tears forming under your eyeline.

“It’s in.” You exhale sharply, un-squeezing your hands from his arms to wrap around his neck. “Tell me when to move, I’ll move.” He says against your neck, pressing soft kisses to soothe you, biting down when you clench around him involuntariily.

It feels weird, like you’re being stuffed full—but you don’t see the pleasure in this yet; it’s more uncomfortable than pleasurable. Maybe your body isn’t wired the same way other girls are because they make it out to be something amazing and have them screaming out in pleasure, but you just feel like screaming out in pain.

“Y-you can move, now.” You say after a moment, watching as his jaw clenches when he drags his cock out, leaving just the tip in before pushing back in gently. Ran makes sure to use as little force as possible, not wanting to overstim you so quickly. There’s warmth pooling in the depths of your stomach, the pain slowly turning into pleasure as he keeps up his slow pace, feeling lightheaded from how your pussy catches around his cock so tightly. 

He briefly thinks he should’ve prepped you more, scared that it was too painful for you. One look down proves his theory wrong and he almost cums right there and then, stilling his hips at the sight of you all spread out for him, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head as you bite down on your lip, trying to stifle the bubbling moans.

“Faster?” He pants out, hoping and praying that you say yes because he needs to feel you, all of you, wants to hear you scream out his name. 

“Yes, please.” Your voice is hushed and quiet, gradually getting louder when he pulls out once more but slams inside you, hard enough that you’re sliding up the bed, head almost hitting the headboard as he begins his relentless pace.

He can’t hold himself back anymore, fingers digging into his pillowcase as he slams inside you. Your hand flys to your mouth when you’re about to moan, remembering he has guests downstairs but his hands grip onto your wrists, pinning them above your head. 

“Let me hear you, fuck please—” He sounds breathless, using one hand to keep your wrists above your head, the other trailing downwards to your thighs, spreading your legs further so he could fit himself inside you better.

“Ran, ohmygod, yes, yes, don’t stop, fuck !” You attempt to scratch at his hands pinning you down, needing to grab onto something before you feel like you lose yourself completely. He presses down onto your stomach, switching his pace to a slower one and you almost scream—

“Shit,” he whispers, voice trailing into a moan when his hips jerk, shoving his cock impossibly deeper, “I can feel you cumming—fuck, you’re so—” The next thing you know, you’re being flipped ont the bed, soft mattress pressing against your stomach and ass being dragged up into the air. 

“Ran, please—” You feel so empty without him inside you, taking back everything you thought previously about sex not being enjoyable, wishing he could be inside you all the time to fill you with that warmth. 

He grips his cock, panting softly before lining his cock up at your entrance. “‘M gonna fuck you full of cum, I swear to—” His promise is cut off when he slips back inside, groaning and dragging your hips back to take his cock, mouth dropping open as your walls flutter around his cock, “Gonna fill you up—you want that, huh?”

“Mhm-mhm,” It’s hard to speak when your face is being shoved into the pillow, hands reaching behind you, desperate to touch him when he’s pinning them to your back with a firm hand. 

He ruts against you with a desperation that has you screaming your frustrations out into the pillow as you listen to his provocative dirty talk, ears full with the sounds of skin on skin slapping against each other. 

“Arch your back,” he commands, letting go of your pinned wrists to allow you freedom of movement, digging his fingers into your hips to physically stop himself from moving to give you the energy to bend forward, watching with sharp eyes as the line in the middle of your back dips, “Just like that, yeah.”

You wind your hands in the pillow, holding it like it's your lifeline as you feel him bend forward, grinding his cock with slow strokes. “Feel good, hm?”

“I—kiss me, please,” you manage to gasp out and he winds a hand in your hair, pulling you up with a firm grip to crash your lips together. It’s messy and desperate, ignoring your protesting neck and back just to lick into his mouth hopelessly.

He tugs your bottom lip with his teeth before shoving you back down onto the bed, resuming his quick, calculated thrusts. “Close?”

You nod, head heavy and snake a hand down your body to your clit, circling your fingers around it a little faster. “Uh-huh.”

“Shit, cum for me—wanna feel you, c’mon.” His hand comes down hard and heavy on your ass, and that was the driving point for you, a broken cry of his name into the pillow as your walls clamp to his cock. He groans, thrusting one, two, three more times before he groans, breathing heavily and you feel cock twitch twice before he fills the condom.

His cock is wedged deep inside you as he stills his hips, riding out his orgasm. There’s a wet noise when he slips out and your body falls limp onto the bed, every single muscle inside your body aches and you feel so sore. 

You shut your eyes closed for a moment when you hear some movement around the room, some shuffling before your cold body is being engulfed by his warm embrace as he climbs back into the bed with you. 

“You okay?” He asks, head dipped in the crevice of your neck, pressing soft kisses against the skin and you nod your head, hands coming up to hold his arm, cherishing his warmth.

“I’m good.” Looking over the curve of your shoulder, you make eye contact with him and smile, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my first time. I really enjoyed it.” 

There’s a look you can’t read on his face but his eyes soften more a moment before he’s moving on top of you. Your body surges up to kiss you, sloppy and happy as his laughter ghosts across your mouth. “You’re so soft.”

“No you are! I saw your eyes soften. I’m not blind.”

“That’s cause—” He looks like he’s about to say something but then shakes his head, looking down.

“Cause what?” You move his head back up to your eyes,furrowing your brows as you wait for him to continue.

“I—I think I love you.”

You swallow, wrinkling your nose and blink up at him, those three words wiping all consciousness from your body. At your silence, he fidgets a little, swallowing constantly and swears he feels heat rushing to his palms.

“Nevermind, I—”

“No! No,no don’t take it back.” You panic, sitting up so quickly you knock your forehead against his. Falling back onto the bed with a groan, you rub at your forehead, wincing a little, “I’m such a mess, sorry—”

“No, it’s fine.” He laughs a little, rubbing his own forehead from the hit. 

“I…think I love you too. You just caught me off-guard and I panicked, I’m sorry.” You grab at his hands, bringing them up to your lips and peck the skin there softly watching as he looks at you, wide-eyed. “No, I don’t think; I know I do. I love you, Ran.”

He doesn’t say anything, looking down at the bed for a moment before chuckling, hand coming up to your cheek to caress it lightly, ��Like I said before, you’re so soft.”

“Says you!” You want to hit him again but he’s tugging you down onto the bed with him, wrapping his arms around and you smile, snuggling up to his chest. 

“You’re staying the night, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I can walk home anyway, my legs are fucked.”

“Good.” 

[sgojoenthusiast]

ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ KINKTOBER 2023 ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

➸ DAY ONE: BLOOD SUCKER.

✧.* satoru gojo x reader.

summary: Desperate to survive, Satoru Gojo stumbles upon the wrong home as he trudges through the forest, injured and alone.

cw: blood, blood sucking, injuries, sub! gojo, fem reader, biting, p in v, oral (m! recieving), begging, both gojo and reader are whipped icl, cowgirl/ riding, 'good boy',

word count: 4.1k

likes, comments and reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.

masterlist.

-`♡´-

The sound of the entrance to your home being slammed shut, followed by a heavy thud and the piercing sound of glass shattering snaps you out of your daze. An inkling of curiosity sparks within you. You lived alone, and usually, you'd have to leave the nightmarish comforts of your home in order to find food. Yet today, apparent by the heavy breathing and the scent of blood, it appears food has been delivered to your front door.

Instinctively, you licked your lips at the scent. The delightful, mouth-watering scent that had you up from where you sat, and hurrying silently down the stairs.

You watched the trespasser rummage through your things indiscreetly, looking for something valuable, most likely medical equipment, observable by the bloody gash in his shirt. His breathing was heavy and pained, triggering your fangs to sharpen and your hands clench, your nails drawing your own, iced blood. 

You watched him for several moments more, your dead eyes not leaving the sight of his frosty hair and… intriguing hands as they desperately searched for something.

“If you’re looking for medical supplies, I do not keep them in my kitchen.”

A string of cursed exclamations left his lips as the unnamed individual jumped, wincing when the sudden movement caused his injury to shriek in agony. The snowy-haired stranger backed himself into the kitchen cabinets, moving around the kitchen island as you slowly sauntered closer to him. 

His face was pale and a layer of sweat covered his forehead. His lips were dry and parted, trying to form a coherent sentence or an excuse for being in your home uninvited. He was shaking, either from terror or the cold night’s bitter hold on his skin. You had half a mind to tear his head from his neck right then and there but his eyes. His eyes were pleading and desperate, melancholic and fragile and yet in their forlorn, desolate state, you saw nothing but a beautiful shade of blue that had you entranced, captured within their conniving grip.

“I-I’m sorry, I had no idea someone lived here-” 

Your eyebrows perked up in disbelief at his poor excuse and as a result, he stopped talking before he dug his own grave. Ironic, considering his grave had been dug the moment he stepped foot in your home. 

His hands paled the harder he gripped onto the counter, yet the combination of the throbbing ache in his side and the way your gaze had him gulping in fear, he couldn’t help but feel like he had wandered too far into the forest. A shiver ran up his spine and down his arms forming goosebumps at the thought and it wasn’t helping that your stare felt like knives impaling his skin and drawing more blood as though he hadn’t lost enough.

Gojo’s knees felt like they were about to collapse, his arms felt like they couldn’t hold the weight of him against the counter anymore and his head was spinning so fast, he didn’t think he could keep his eyes open anymore. Yet he couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t kill him should he pass out right there, not with a gaze so lethal. 

It was strange, he could see you walking slowly towards him, grabbing a knife and dragging it against the surface of the counter, but he couldn’t hear your steps. He could hear everything, the knife against the countertop, his panicked breaths, even the sound of his blood dripping onto the tiles. Yet your feet were like feathers. This made him nervous, it made him feel vulnerable, as though you could snatch up any opportunity where his back was turned to put a knife through his back and he wouldn’t even know until he looked down to see the steel covered in his own blood accompanied by the sudden soreness. 

When your face inched closer to his own, and you flashed him a slight, sinister smirk, he caught a fleeting glance at your pointed fangs, resulting in the blood draining from his face. Surely he was seeing things, right? There’s no way–

“Has your village never told you the gruesome tales of the haunted mansion located deep within this very forest, hm?” Gojo shook his head after a few beats, his eyes never staying in the same spot as they roamed over every crevice of your lifeless face. You hummed in understanding, dragging the knife up his arm, light enough not to hurt him, yet threatening enough to send him the message. “Legend has it, if you do manage to leave, it’ll only when your corpse, drained of all its blood, is dragged through those same doors you mistakenly walked through earlier.”

You backed away from him, slotting the knife back in its place. Looking back behind you, to see his horror-stricken features, you added, “But that’s just legend.” You lended him a maliciously gentle smile as you gestured for him to follow you.

Your face had portrayed a look of knowing, when in reality, you had no idea what you were doing. You hadn’t feasted in days, you should have killed him when you had the opportunity. Yet, for some unknown reason, the way he looked at you with dread plastered on his face, it had your legs pressing together and your mouth running dry. 

Confusion seeped its way onto his face, not only because you had threatened him and spared him despite the fact he had given you no reason to after lying to his face, but also because he found his feet reluctantly following your footsteps and obeying when you commanded him to sit down when you left the room.

There was nothing but a suspicious, eerie feeling creeping around the room he was in. Fire flickered in the fireplace, the moon peeked intrusively through the bleak curtains and the entire room was drowning in dark colours and a lack of light. Gojo’s eyes scanned the room for any kind of defence or escape, should you attempt an attack, though, he was quickly snapped out of his thoughts as you appeared mysteriously in front of him in the short second he had blinked. 

His heart was rattling in his chest, banging against him, trying to tear it’s way from his chest in order to escape from not only the ghostly walls of your home, but the lingering desire deep inside of him that caused his heart to pound and his dick to throb at the sight of you.

In your hands sat a first aid kit, you would sometimes use to lure your prey into a false sense of security. However, for a reason unbeknownst to you, you had no intentions of misleading him or tricking him into thinking he was safe. This scared you slightly, a feeling you were unaccustomed to. You told yourself you were simply nursing him back to health as there was no point in sucking out his blood if there was no blood to suck, because what other reason could there be for an intruder you had met mere moments ago?

“Take off your shirt.” 

His face burned bright at your words, forgetting about the gash in his side as his thoughts went to a much more lustful and carnal place. “Sorry?”

You had half a mind to roll your eyes at his obvious flustered state, yet something within you was restraining itself from tearing his shirt off for him. If anything, the idea that he was having similar thoughts to you was exciting and arousing. Nevertheless, you boxed up these thoughts and jailed them in the back of your head. 

“I can’t stitch you back up if your shirt is on.”

He looked embarrassed, but gave an understanding nod as he bashfully removed his shirt.

Your face was stoic when you kneeled in front of him, yet his own was anything but emotionless as his wide eyes and pink face betrayed his want to keep his disturbing, inappropriate thoughts to himself. Not to mention his dick, which twitched behind his pants.

He scorned himself for having such ludicrous thoughts, mere moments ago he was cowering and plotting his escape after you had flashed him your abnormally pointed teeth. The dead look on your face, the way your eyes would stare shamelessly at his neck, the tinge of red in your eyes, all of these things were signs that he should run, signs he should have taken the opportunity to make a run for it whilst you were fetching the first aid kit. Yet, it was also these suspicious traits that had him fighting his own lewd thoughts.

As you cleaned his wound, all he could think about was your seemingly delicate yet freezing fingers against his stomach. The thought had him struggling for air as he attempted not to let you see how nervous you made him. There was something so strange about the way you made him tremble in fear despite the overwhelming lust that washed over him. 

For the most part, you had been silent, seemingly focussing on the task at hand. However, you had exchanged names, making him feel slightly more at ease, and you had asked him how he’d received such a nasty injury. 

He told you about how his village had falsely suspected him of aligning himself with the devil and participating in witchcraft and other inexplicable events, and had exiled him for it, chasing him out over a misunderstanding.

Whilst you hadn’t said anything out of fear of saying the wrong thing or pushing him past his boundaries, you were frustrated with yourself for trying to make small talk in order to distract him from the inevitable pain as by doing so, it benefitted you very little. Why had you taken such a liking to an intruder? He had broken into your home and left a trail of blood in your kitchen. What a waste.

Even so, you felt obligated to touch him with gentle fingers even though just the smell of his blood had your head reeling and made you want to sink your teeth deep into the flesh of his neck, it was unbearable.

You tried your hardest to concentrate, yet the smell of blood, the sound of his heart beating and his shaky breaths, it was all too much. 

Never had you backed away faster after you had finished stitching him up, making him flinch slightly at your sudden movements. You bit your lip until you drew blood and then winced at the feeling.

Your back was turned. Gojo approached you attentively, trying not to startle you or make you feel uncomfortable. Though, even though you had heard him rummaging through your kitchen from the fourth floor of your home, you hadn’t heard his nearing breaths and the creaking floorboards behind you before he placed a wary hand on your shoulder.

However, you were immensely disconcerted and plagued with frantic thoughts. The feeling of his hand connecting with you in your current state only resulted in your ravenous thoughts eclipsing your unusual tender feelings towards him.

Suddenly, in an inhumane rush, you had him pinned to the wall so harshly there was a deafening crack and the sound of a picture collapsing to the ground. Your lips met his neck and you struggled to repress your hunger.

Gojo whimpered in pain ever so slightly at the contact of hitting the wall. He couldn’t quite process the situation he was in, thoughts and questions clouding his head. “What-what are you- how did you–”

“I do not know why I can't kill- why I don't want to kill you and it is driving me insane. You barged into my home, broke and attempted to steal my belongings and yet I am nothing but infatuated with you. I fear it is your eyes, they have me in a tight clutch that I cannot escape and I will starve because of it.” You whispered lowly, unable to meet his gaze or focus on anything other than the sound of his blood pumping through his veins.

Gojo swallowed down his fearful noises in fear of provoking you.There was a part of him that felt sympathetic despite the demonic display you had shown, and there was another part of him that longed to help your desperate exhibit after you had selflessly helped him. 

Thinking back to your words, he felt a sensation of satisfaction course through him at the idea that he had made you feel so passionately about a complete stranger. He wanted to smile, yet on his cheek was a small cut that made it sting. In the milliseconds between his hand making contact with your shoulder and you shoving him against the wall, he recalls a small prick against his cheek and the blurred sight of your nails, which had mysteriously grown into sharp talons, scratching his cheek as you slapped him in surprise.

The blood from the cut dripped down onto your hand which was gripping his chin heatedly. Your eyes widened at the feeling, your hold on him to tighten as your fangs sharpened when the smell hit your nose.

He should keep quiet, not say anything, yet, he couldn’t bite back his question. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I don’t know.” You replied.

Truthfully, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear after your confession. Everything you had said, he had understood, somewhat related to in some aspects. He wanted nothing more than to feel your lips against his, to forever hear the sound of your voice in his ears, though he realised that wouldn’t be possible should he have his life drained away or if you starved to death.

He took a hesitant breath and tilted his head to the side, allowing you access to his neck. Your eyes widened in surprise as you stepped back, unwilling to hurt him. 

“Gojo–”

He gave you a stern look. “Just do it before I change my mind.”

“You’ve already lost a lot of blood.” You reciprocated his harsh gaze, yet behind your lifeless eyes was a glint of fear. “I might kill you"

“You won't.” He reassured you. Of course, he was doubtful and scared and had no clue what he was talking about at all, however, he felt enamoured and captivated by you. Even before he had stumbled his way into his home, it was like fate was keeping him alive and pushing his legs in the direction of your home.

One of his hands slid up your arm and snaked its way into your hair, carefully guiding your head back down towards his neck. You stumbled forward as his hand steered you his way. 

Unable to restrain yourself, your teeth slowly seeped into his neck. Gojo winced which caused you to once again become reluctant however his grip on your head tightened before you could pull away.

Gaining more confidence at his willingness, one of your hands found its way to his hair whilst the other gripped tightly at his arm and pawed at his bare chest in desperation, as though you couldn’t get enough.

After a few moments, the stinging feeling became a euphoric one that Gojo couldn’t get enough of. He whimpered slightly, the feeling of your cold skin against his heated skin was a burning contrast that he couldn’t get enough of. 

Once you were somewhat satisfied, you pulled away, Gojo’s eyes were lidded and he looked pale, yet there was a prominent, lazy smirk on his face regardless of the fact you would have sucked him free of his blood if he there wasn’t a feeling of terror lurking even in the most shallow parts inside of you. 

Contrary to what you believed, his features weren’t tired looking because of what had just occurred, but more so due to the heavy bulge in his pants that was straining for relief. You looked down, and then back at him in shock. All he did was stare back at you audaciously, before taking your cheek in his hand and leaning in ever so slightly. 

Your breathing increased in pace when he pulled away, mumbling an apology. Your mind was reeling with all the consequences of what would happen should you proceed with what your rotting heart wanted you to do next. However, there wasn’t any other inch of you that cared enough to stop yourself from pulling him back in.

Your lips moved flawlessly against each other. You began to guide Gojo back over to the sofa and sat him down, sitting yourself down over his lap as you continued to kiss him, your lips never leaving his. 

You could smell the wound on his neck weeping, and decided to pull away to drag your tongue across his neck, making sure not to waste a single drop after he had offered himself so generously to you. “You taste so sweet, Gojo.”

“F-fuck, call me Satoru, please-”

Shit. How could you deny him when he had asked so nicely? “You taste amazing, Satoru.”

He bucked his hips up against yours, eager for friction. 

You traced a slow hand down his chest and towards his pants, tugging them down to free his erection. Both of you were craving one another’s touch as you removed each other’s clothes so swiftly.

Placing yourself between his legs, you dragged your tongue along his shaft. He looked down at you between the strands of his hair with pleading eyes and pouting lips, silently begging you for you to touch him.

But silence wasn’t going to cut it.

“Satoru,” You purred, voice alluring and seductive, roping him further into the mess he was already in, making it far more challenging for him to even think about what he was doing. “Are you going to ask nicely for it, hm?”

You accentuated your words with small kitten licks up his dick, nothing too pleasurable that it would distract him or make him feel too good, but enough to make him yearn for more. Enough to make him want to beg.

“Please. Please, I need it so bad, please suck my dick- ahh-”

You cut him off by taking his tip into your mouth. Satoru was big. You tried not to display your nerves of trying to take all of him in your mouth, but from the look on his face, he was plenty distracted. 

His eyes peered down at you and he couldn’t stop the whine that left his lips at the sight of you watching him intently, batting your eyelashes at him innocently as though you didn’t have half his dick shoved down your throat. 

Strings of cuss words tied together fell out of his mouth as his hands found their way back to your head and caressed it gently. Your mouth felt unbearably warm around him despite how cold the rest of you was. 

He was behaving so well, already understanding who was in charge, and what he could and couldn’t do. You made a mental note to reward him for it later.

You bobbed your head up and down, every so often focussing on his tip after picking up how sensitive he was there and how good it made him feel. Steadily, one of your hands, the other gripping his thigh, made its way up to his balls and began to fondle them, sometimes grazing the base of his dick where your mouth wasn’t sucking. 

Everything you did was calculated and specifically to bring him closer and closer to the edge, however, moments before he fell off, you removed your mouth from his dick, denying him his release.

The entire time you had been sucking him off, he had been blaring with the noises he was making, and incredibly extroverted, not shy at all with the whimpers and moans exiting his lips. But now, he was deafeningly silent. The only noises that left his soft lips were the sounds of his laboured breaths and a timid sound of dismay as he looked at you with disappointment and betrayal in his eyes.

In return, you looked up at him feigning confusion. “What’s the matter, Satoru? You’d rather finish in my mouth instead of my pussy, hm? Is that it?”

As though it had never been there, the look of distress that had been framed on his features was absent and long forgotten. You gave him a sky smile of satisfaction, like you knew his answer way before the question was even asked.

Leaving a trail of kisses behind on his thigh and stomach, you made your way back up to straddle him and kissed his jaw and face. Gojo thought your lips felt seraphic and heavenly despite your demonic peculiarity, pointed fangs and thirst for the blood running from his veins. All these attributes could class you as a devil, but to Satoru, you were an angel sent from paradise as you glowed above him with your radiant beauty and blissful touch. 

His incessant hands couldn’t keep off your body, which in his eyes was flawless in every aspect. He placed his shaking hands on your hips, still in disbelief that he could. 

On the other hand, your mind was overcast with the feeling of your bare cunt sliding and grinding over his dick. Your hands gripped his shoulders as you kissed his cheek, urging him to move his head to the side so you could take yet another look at the wound you had inflicted. 

You licked the blood that was still running down his neck as you slid his aching dick inside of you simultaneously. His head rolled back in ecstasy, mewling in pleasure and bucking his hips up to meet yours, thrusting himself fully inside of you.

Your moans matched his as you moved your hips against his own and began to bounce up and down. 

“You’ve been such a good boy f’me, Satoru. You know that, hm?” You praised, looking at him with a playful smile and hazy eyes as his head was thrown back. Your hand went to thread your fingers between the strands of his silky, snowed hair and to support his neck. His lips were in a pout and glossy as you examined each of his features with fascination, continuing to ride him. 

His expression was one of pure bliss as his lips parted to form a small ‘O’ shape, an array of pretty noises leaving his lips. 

His eyes were screwed shut, much to your dismay. You loved the way his eyes sparkled like the sun reflecting in the ocean, an ocean you suspected to have drowned in about a hundred times by now. 

His hair was stuck to his forehead, his skin was glistening and his neck was bloodied. He had never looked so perfect.

Your hips were relentless and fucking quick. Working his dick so ruthlessly in order to bring you both to release. His dick never failed to hit the spot within you that had you gasping for air, digging your nails into his shoulder and gripping at his hair harshly with your other hand. 

Satoru’s head fell into your shoulder, babbling about how he was so close. You continued with that same pace, encouraging him and yourself close to release, and when you did, it was in sync and pure bliss.

You clenched around him, milking his dick completely as he emptied himself inside of you, giving himself to you entirely in every way.

Both of you sat there for a few moments, you straddling him with your arms around his neck and his head in your shoulder, not saying a word, just trying to catch your breaths. Simply enjoying one another’s presence. Yet, the inevitable had to be addressed at some point.

“What now?” You asked, a tinge of sorrow in your voice at the thought that he may leave, the thought that he should leave. 

His face spoke more than his voice, and you heard every word of it. He wanted to stay, but he shouldn’t, you wouldn’t let him.

“It will benefit you very little staying here with me. You should find somewhere new, we do not have similar ways of living and it will only result in conflict.”

“Not unless we try.” He claimed, voice plagued with hope and positivity. In response, you only gave him a serious look, begging him to look at things from a more realistic point of view, yet his optimism would not budge.

“You will be unhappy.”

Disbelief shadowed his features, now, it was his turn to give you that look of seriousness. “Only should you not let me stay here with you, as I have nowhere else to go.”

He kissed up your shoulder, making his way to your jaw and instinctively, you tilted your head to the side and gave him access to your throat for him to begin sucking and kissing. “Plus, you owe me for this injury, remember.”

He emphasised his words with a bite on your throat and you could feel his devilish grin against your skin. You pulled him back gently by his hair and then cupped his cheeks in your hand, placing a tender kiss on his soft lips, smiling. “I suppose I do.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed!! i'm not sure how i feel about how this played out considering i'm much better at writing about the events up to them fucking rather than the actual smut but if you liked this one, you should check out this miguel o'hara fic!!

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟsgojoenthusiast

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: nsfw/18+; afab!reader; hisoka is his own content warning™. a little self-ship coded, shh. wc: 800

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You hold your hand to your chest, waiting for your heart to burst through your ribcage like a wild bird, the keys that were held loosely in your other hand dropping to the floor and landing with a sharp clatter. It seems you have an uninvited guest this evening—Hisoka sits perched in the center of your sofa, shirtless, legs crossed and a wry smile stretching across his face.

“Why dear, you’re home late,” he croons, golden eyes gleaming as he drapes his arms over the back of the couch and cocks his head at you.

“I got held up on my way out of the office,” you scowl, closing the front door behind you and slowly inhaling, exhaling even slower, trying to calm your racing pulse. “I didn’t know I had company to attend to tonight.”

“Well, I would’ve called but…” Hisoka trails off and shrugs his shoulders, uncrossing his legs and planting his feet on the ground. He behaves like a feral cat, coming and going as he pleases, entering your home of his own accord no matter how well you seal the doors and windows and how many times you change the locks, disappearing for days and weeks at a time, then showing up out of the blue demanding attention and affection. And, without fail, you fall for it every time.

A familiar scent catches your attention as you toss your coat onto a nearby chair. “What’s that smell?”

“There wasn’t anything in your fridge that looked appealing so I ordered curry.” He sounds almost bored by your question, as if the answer should have been obvious, and gestures lazily in the direction of kitchen. “It’s probably getting cold by now though.”

“Goddammit,” you mutter under your breath, pulling out your phone to check your bank balance as you saunter towards him.

“Don’t be so distrustful, dear, I paid for it myself,” Hisoka snips, raising an eyebrow, reaching forward to snatch your phone from your still-shaking hands. “You actually think I need to steal your money?”

“You already break into my house constantly, can you blame me for assuming?”

“Do you really think so little of me, pretty?” he coos, grabbing your wrists and tugging you towards him until you stumble against his knees, catching yourself on his broad shoulders. His long fingers sink into the plush of your hips and he pulls you forward easily until you land in his lap, straddling his muscular thighs; you can already feel the swell of his arousal pressing against your warmth.

“Stop fucking breaking into my fucking house, Hisoka.” Your arms find their usual spot draped around his neck as you settle against him, your fingers playing with the fine hairs at the back of his neck, and you swear you can feel him throb as you curse him out. “Fuck’s sake, I’ll just give you a key.”

“Aw, come now, where would be the fun in that?” he condescends, nuzzling your cheek as his warm palms caress the curve of your ass, sharp nails digging into your jeans, another clothing item dangerously close to ruin by his wandering hands. His lips crash suddenly against yours, his kisses bruising and cruel, the tip of his tongue probing your mouth hungrily while his hands pull you down even more firmly against the bulge in his pants.

“At least—at least text me when you’re coming o-over,” you stammer, a rush of blood pooling at the apex of your thighs as he rocks up into you. It’s sick how easily he wrings the annoyance and the anger out of you, leaving you twisted up and heated and needy, ready to soak up all that he has to give you.

“What, and ruin the surprise? Besides, you look so cute when you’re startled.” Hisoka grabs your wrist and gasps lewdly as he presses his lips to it, moaning against your skin while his tongue makes patterns over your pulse point. “Oh, my pretty little prey animal, your heart’s beating so fast for me.”

He sinks his teeth into the meat of your palm and you’re flooded with a rush of arousal. If only you’d worn that skirt to work that you’d briefly considered and discarded that morning, you could already have him inside you, hastily sliding your panties to one side to accommodate him. Instead, you have the illusion of struggle, a fabric barrier keeping you from showing your hand too quickly.

“D-don’t you want to eat dinner?” you ask through a sigh, a final shot fired in a losing battle.

Hisoka snickers cruelly and deftly maneuvers you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. He gazes down at you and grins, something wild and untamed glimmering in his gilded eyes. “The food’s already cold, little bunny—it can wait a little longer.”

[persnicketypomelo]

hi! imagine reader trying to escape leroux erik and running into him in the catacombs 🤭 he's just as shocked to see them as they are to see him

obsession, grabbing, dark behaviour, not romantic but horror, spoilers

I'm going off of the part of the novel where Leroux describes a mermaid that he has in the water around his house or something. I think it's the one that drowned Philippe.

Encountering Erik in the Catacombs

From the wording/context I’m imagining that the Phantom has kidnapped you and is secluding you in his underground home

To escape this far you would need to be stubbornly determined

He left you at his home to run some errands, so the boat would not be at your disposal to bring you across the lake

Swimming it was then

When he had first kidnapped you, you swear that you saw a dark figure lurking at the bottom of the lake

And if you recall, he had mentioned something of a mermaid in his lake

Believing in such fairy tales as mermaids is a tall order, but from such an unusual man, you might actually believe the impossible

Whatever you faced in that murky lake, it would be better than staying confined here for a second longer

So you strip down to your undergarments and ease your way into the cold water

The water chills your skin and soddens your clothes

An uncomfortable feeling, no doubt, but nothing in comparison to the peril you soon face

Suddenly a hand grasps your ankle, pulling you down into the depths

You lash against the iron grip, kicking your feet as your life depends on it

Sinking down, you're forced to swallow in mouthfuls of lake water

I'm going to die here, at the bottom of a lake, all alone

But with a particularly strong kick, you manage to dislodge the offending hand and swim frantically to the other side of the lake

Needless to say, you were now thoroughly disturbed, and you weren't sure what was more terrifying

The fact that what you felt was certainly a human hand grabbing at you

Or the fact that Erik had such...creatures, real and in the flesh

He had certainly was a man for tricks and illusions, but this was the first scrape of real danger and potential lethality you had encountered in his traps

Nonetheless, there is no way you're going back now--not with that...thing...lurking at the bottom

And the adrenaline coursing through you propels you into the unkown

You can't go back

You can't

Sopping wet and wandering into the endless dark caverns, with no way of knowing what progress (or lack thereof) was not your ideal scenario, yet still it was progress nonetheless

The chill seeps from the uninviting cavern walls to your bones, and all you can manage to do is shiver profusely while you navigate aimlessly through the terrain

I'd like to think that, in a more horror/supernatural interpretation, the Phantom has some developed supernatural connection with the darkness

He wouldn't need to use a torch to navigate through his labryinth if he really didn't want to

In such a dark place, many metres beneath the chaotic upper floor of the opera house, every little sound can be heard through the quiet expanse

So when you hear the faint rustle of a cloak, the coldth in your skin seeps to your blood and you feel ice chill your veins through all extremities

You feel the phantom's intense eyes, filled with anger, before he confirms his presence

Thin, skeletal hands seize your wrists and your captor makes an angry, hissing sound

A snake about to strike its prey

Your captor's voice is laced with faux amusement, sardonic, as if prodding you into testing him

"Going somewhere?"

His laugh is derisive, joyless, covering a barely contained rage and hurt

"I believe, my dear, we should be heading back,"

His piercing eyes freeze your muscles, and you feel you can't move no matter how much your inner voice scream to

"We have much to discuss, and you have much to explain."

[abihasablog]

A Ticklish Mouse

Fandom: BG3

Characters: Tav, Raphael, Haarlep

You break into the House of Hope to steal the Orphic Hammer, though you find yourself caught in the claws of a tricky incubus instead. They quickly discover something about you that you rather wish they hadn't.

Read on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60099727

-

You may have overestimated your ability to sneak around the House of Hope without being caught. Almost immediately you stumble  into the Boudoir, coming across a very scantily clad creature resembling the master of the house. 

“A lost little mouse is running through the House. A thief in the night, greedy and here to take.” The cambion flashes their teeth as they leans back, legs spread wantonly. “Why are you here, little thief?”

“Raphael?” The words are thick on your tongue, your mouth suddenly dry. The cambion chuckles, shaking his head. 

“No, not I. I am Haarlep, Raphael’s incubus. And I would be a poor servant if I let my master’s favourite potential client wander around his House uninvited. Come here, little thief.” 

“Why would I do that?” You take a cautious step back. They make no move to approach you, their smile betraying their certainty of your obedience. 

“Because if you don’t, I will be forced to do something neither of us want me to do. Now come here, little mouse, and let me help.”

Slowly, you step towards the bed. Once you are within arms reach, Haarlep reaches out and grasps your hand, surprising you enough that you lose balance and fall flat on the bed. Immediately, Haarlep has you on your back, arms pinned above your head. 

“Get off of me!” You cry indignantly, trying in vain to dislodge the much larger creature. Haarlep tuts, waving their hand. Soft ropes wrap around your wrists and pull your arms taut above your head. 

“My apologies, little mouse. But I must insist you must remain here until Raphael returns.” They slip from the bed, hips swaying as they approach the pack you’d dropped. They bend down to rifle through it, humming to themself. While their back is turned you tug hard at your restraints, but find them totally secure. With a huff you lift your head to watch Haarlep dig through your stash of health potions, assorted keys, and loose bits of food. They turn  to you with a quirked brow, and you can’t help your blush. “How in the nine hells have you survived thus far if this is your ‘break into a devil’s home’ pack?”

“I get by.” 

“Clearly,” Apparently satisfied, Haarlep approaches the bed again. You get a good look at the incubus in all their glory, and feel your heartbeat quicken. They must sense it, smirking as they sit beside you once more. You suddenly wish you’d worn your armour. You had thought that your camp clothes may be more subtle, though as Haarlep looks over you like he wants to eat you, you feel very exposed. “Raphael will be here soon, little thief. Whatever shall we do in the meantime?” 

They drag a fingertip lightly down your chest, halting when he reaches the hem of your shirt. Haarlep’s intentions are clear, and if you had a modicum of sense you may have been afraid. But all you can think about is the feather soft touch threatening to slide against your skin. You take a deep breath.

“Now, why don’t you save yourself some trouble and tell me what you came here for. I know it couldn’t have been to see Raphael, as he has been waiting patiently for you in Baldur’s Gate. So I can only assume…” A manicured claw scratches along the soft swell of your belly. “You have come here to steal.” 

You inhale sharply, the feeling making you shiver. “A botched teleportation, that’s all.” 

“Do not lie,” Haarlep hisses. Their hand rests against your torso, fingers tapping in a manner that’s clearly meant to be a thinly veiled threat of disembowelment, except the touch is light enough that you feel the start of a grin tugging at your lips. “Little thief, must I coax the truth from you?” 

“How?” You ask, then mentally berate yourself for engaging. Haarlep chuckles, leaning in close to press an almost tender kiss to the underside of your jaw. 

“How about you and I become better acquainted?” Their hand claws against your skin, and an embarrassingly loud squeak breaks the tension between you.

Haarlep’s eyes widen for a moment, before they laugh outright as they realise your predicament. “Oh, dear! Poor little mouse, so trapped and so very ticklish.”

“Shut up!” You snap, trying to hide your face in your hair. Haarlep tucks a lock behind your ears, catching your chin in their hand to meet your gaze. 

“How careless of you to reveal such a thing to me, little thief. Oh, I shall have you all tickled out by the time Raphael gets home. I will have you begging and squirming so prettily, drunk on my touch.” 

You can’t help but gasp, toes curling in your shoes. “I don’t think that’s really necessary.”

“Necessary? Oh my dear, of course it is. There is nothing I would like to hear more than your pretty laughter,” They climb on top of you, and scratch their claws into your exposed underarms. You shriek at the unexpected touch and try to yank your arms down, but the bindings hold you tight. Haarlep laughs at your weak attempts to struggle, tickling up your naked arms and down again. 

“Nononono!” You kick at them, but find your leg snatched up in their tail. 

“Naughty,” they purr. 

One hand disappears from your body, and with a quick swipe of a claw opens the fastenings on your bodice, exposing your naked chest. You barely have time to be indignant before they're tracing featherlight spirals up and down your torso. It's not half as intense as the tickly torture you’d already been subjected to, and you were loathe to admit that it actually felt nice. You feel yourself sink down into the bed, your laughter turned to breathless giggles.

“There, that’s better. Poor ticklish little creature, Raphael will just eat you up.” Haarlep continues his torment, watching you arch your back with a smirk. “Naughty little thing. What did you think would happen, breaking into the House of Hope? Did you think you might just slip in, steal from Raphael, and slip away again unnoticed?” 

“I hahahahad sort of hoped!” You wiggle like  a worm caught on a string. They cock their head at you, bringing both hands down to tickle ruthlessly at your belly. You descend into hysterics as they quickly map out the spots that make your brain turn mushy. As tears swell in your eyes they slow their hands, swirling his fingertips around your belly. You take a few deep breaths, still squirming beneath him.

“Aren't you the most ticklish little mouse,” Haarlep purrs. “Are you enjoying yourself, little one? Do you like it when I tickle you?”

“Nohohohoho!” The teasing settles in your gut and makes your thighs clench. It makes the ticklish so much worse!

“I think you dooooo,” Haarlep singsongs, one hand abandoning your belly to slip behind him and tickle your thigh. You squeal at the touch, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes to alleviate the thrilling feeling. Haarlep is unfairly good at this. “Oh? Just there?”

They slide backwards to perch on your knees. Your outfit does not protect you, and a blush creeps down your chest as they push the fabric out of the way, goosebumps rising on your skin. They wiggle down to sit between your legs, tail still wrapped around an ankle and holding it aloft. Without warning they dip their head and blow a raspberry against the soft skin of your inner thigh, and you swear you black out for a moment as you shriek in laughter. You struggle to form words as hands dig gently into your hips, torturing and holding you down.

“Plehehehehehease!” You manage through your hysterics. “Plehehehease go somewhere else!”

“Now why would I do that?” They press a kiss to the spot, before moving to the other thigh. You barely manage a gasp before the doors to the Boudoir swing open and Raphael swoops in, clad in his usual fineries with a fiery expression on his face. 

“My my, what a treat to come back to. Haarlep,” Raphael strides up beside the bed, not even sparing you a glance as he curls his fingers through the Incubus’s hair. He tightens his fist enough that Haarlep draws back with a sigh, fluttering their eyelashes. “What is the meaning of this?”

“A lost little mouse stumbled into the Boudoir, and ended up all caught up in my claws!” Haarlep drags a finger down your naked thigh, grinning as you tense. “You took so very long coming home, I had to entertain myself.”

“So it would seem.” Raphael releases Haarlep as he turns to gaze at you. You must look a state, hair dishevelled from thrashing, arms bound to his bed and covered in sweat. “My my, little mouse. What have we gotten ourselves into?”

“Raphael,” You try to splutter an explanation, but you're caught off guard by the return of Haarlep's mouth to your thigh. “Nonono don't!”

A huff of hot air kisses your skin as Haarlep chuckles. “Oh Raphael, what an absolute treat this one is. May we keep her?”

“The little mouse will remain caged until an answer is provided of why they have come, quite uninvited.” Raphael perches beside you, his gaze hot. 

“I wasn't going to take anything!” You stammer quickly before Haarlep gets the chance to interrupt you again.  “Would you believe me if I said I was looking for you?”

Raphael stares at you, unimpressed. “Seeing as I have been in the same place I have always been since you arrived at the Gate, I doubt that very much.” 

“Well yes, but I needed to see you privately!” You try, but to your credit it's very hard to sound convincing when there's an incubus between your legs. “Could you- could you perhaps call Haarlep off so we may speak?”

“Ha!” Haarlep laughs, as Raphael chuckles himself. 

“Oh dear, has my incubus been unkind to you, little thief? You were making an awful racket.”

“Let me show you, Master!” Haarlep exclaims. Their tail yanks your leg further to the side, exposing more of your abused inner thigh. “Oh, what a terrible torture I have invented for this poor little one.”

You barely manage a cry of protest before permission is given and Haarlep is blowing another raspberry, hands scribbling over the sensitive skin underneath your belly button. You throw your head back in hysterical laughter, embarrassment hitting an all time high at the knowledge Raphael is watching you.

“Stoooooop!” You plead, trying to push Haarlep away with your free leg. Raphael rests a hand on Haarlep’s neck as he watches you squirm. “Plehehehehehease I'm sorry!”

“Fascinating,” Raphael hums. “I heard you were whipped by a Priest of Loviator for fun, but a little bit of ticking is what brings you down?”

“You never told me that,” Haarlep pouts. Their fingers curl under your knees as they speak, smirking as you kick and giggle. “Perhaps a creature as ticklish as this one needs a firm touch, perhaps even the gentle caress of a lover has our mouse squirming and giddy.”

“Shut up!” You land a firm kick against the Incubus’s leg.  Your ankles are suddenly locked up in soft leather cuffs, and the tail that once held your leg aloft now trails down your calf. You realise a moment too late its destination, as it flicks your slippers off and the pointy tip wiggles between your toes. You break into deep belly laughs, eyes squeezing shut and hands scrambling to grab at the sheets. Your addled brain takes a shot in the dark. “HEHEHEHELP!”

“Help,” Raphael scoffs. A hand curls around your chin and tugs it, forcing you to meet his heated gaze. “Tell me why you're here, little mouse.”

“Nohohohohoho!” You cannot let slip your intentions, he'd kill you. You simply have to endure this torture until the others wonder what's taking you so long and come to search for you. 

“Then perhaps we ought to subject you to this torture for a while longer.”

“Wahahahait, nonono plehehehease!” 

Haarlep dips for another raspberry against your skin. Raphael hums, and for a brief moment you think there's no way he would participate in such a childish torture, but then he's wiggling his fingertips into the soft skin of your belly. 

“NO! Plehehehehehease!”

Your pleas are ignored, both devils working in agonising tandem to torment you. 

“Poor little mouse, so helpless.”

You whine through your laughter, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Oooooh dear! I think teasing makes it worse for our little thief, Master.”

“I think you may be right,” Raphael catches your chin in a gentle grip, forcing you to meet his gaze. His other hand trails up your sternum, fingertips curling along your collarbone. “Does it tickle, little mouse? How does it feel to be so very helpless, hmm? Does it feel good?”

He manoeuvres your chin, making you nod. 

“It does?” He teases. What a bizarre situation you find yourself in, to hear a devil laugh as he teases you. You almost wish they'd just kill you instead, if only to save the embarrassment. “Hmm, perhaps you deserve the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps you really are here to see me.”

You try to agree, but your words are lost in laughter as Haarlep slips further down your legs to run gentle claws behind your knees. 

“If you truly do wish to speak, then by all means.” He leans close to you, his breath hot against your cheek. “Speak.”

“I want to discuss our deal!” Is what you try to say, though it comes put in a jumble of giggles and noises. Raphael must understand you, because he pauses his attack. Haarlep pulls back too, though their hands still rest menacingly against your calves. “I wanted to make amendments, regarding my friends.”

“How predictable,” Raphael sighs. “Let me guess. Replace the orb in the wizard and the engine in the tiefling with their true hearts?”

“Oh. Well, yes.”

“And what could you possibly leverage over me to make such amendments? If I were to accept, I would be angering both Mystra and Zariel.”

“You would have the Crown! Why care what they think?” You say. Raphael taps a finger to his chin, clearly faking consideration. Your stomach drops. “There must be something else you want too?”

Raphael looks down his nose at you, as though you'd said something utterly stupid.

“She has been very cooperative, Master,” Haarlep interjected with a purr. Raphael rolls his eyes.

“Fine. I will consider your proposition, I promise nothing else. I am sure I will think of something to take in return.”

“Thank you,” you say earnestly. It hadn't exactly been what you'd come here hoping to achieve - the Orphic Hammer was still very much beyond your grasp. But a deal to get Gale and Karlach out of their miserable fates was better than nothing. “Will you… could you perhaps let me go now?”

“Oh no, little mouse. I'm not quite through with you yet. We may have gotten an answer from you, though there is still the matter of punishment for breaking in.”

“I thought this was the punishment!” You cry indignantly. Raphael chuckles, gesturing for Haarlep to carry on. You whine and giggle as they resume the tender caress of your legs. 

“I'd hardly call this a punishment, I have not once heard you tell us to stop. Haarlep?”

“Quite right, little thief. And I do believe you could have cast one of your little spells to get away any time you wanted. But you don't want to, do you? I think you really are enjoying yourself.”

You shake your head rapidly through your laughter, it was not fun, not at all, and your insides definitely did not flip at the tug of a smirk on the devil’s lips. 

“Perhaps we could sweeten the pot of your proposal.” Raphael sweeps a finger across your waist. “You will answer any and all questions honestly, and once we are done we will speak no more about the breaking and entering.” 

His gaze turns dark for a moment as his eyes pour into yours. 

“And we shall also forget the true reasoning that brought you here, yes?”

“Yes,” You say, cheeks burning. Of course he would know. He chuckles, sitting back. 

“First question, and this is an easy one,” he traces a finger slowly down you, starting at your neck and ending with a tap on your thigh, just above Haarlep’s head. “Where are you most ticklish?”

“Oh, that’s mean!” Haarlep grins, resting their cheek against your thigh. 

“Really? I thought I was being kind, since the alternative would be finding out ourselves by process of elimination.”

Fortunately, this is an easy question. “I don’t know, this is the first time since I was a child.” 

Unfortunately, the answer makes both of them perk up. 

“Process of elimination it is.” 

“Nonono wait wait wait!” You squeak. “It’s my thighs! My thighs so far, does that count?!” 

“Hmm…” Raphael seems to consider it. “I suppose it counts. For now.” 

“Spoilsport,” Haarlep sighs. “I hope we will do a thorough evaluation at some point soon though, Master?” 

“Naturally,” Raphael pets the incubus. “Perhaps once our business is concluded here, I can arrange for the little mouse to come over and spend some time with you, one to one, as a reward for your selfless and inventive capture of her.”

You’re only half sure he’s just saying that to wind you up, but it works. Your legs squeeze around Haarlep, who smirks up at you in response. 

“Oh, I think she likes that idea.” 

“Which leads me to my next question, just as easy as the first.” Raphael grips your chin, forcing eye contact. “Are you enjoying yourself, little mouse?” 

Just as easy, and yet twice as wicked. 

You glare at him, though you know you must look as intimidating as a kitten that’s fallen in a puddle. From between your legs, Haarlep giggles. 

“That’s a very sweet pout, little thief, but do remember the terms of this fun little caveat. You must answer truthfully.” They sit back on their haunches and scoot down on the bed to sit between your feet. You curl your toes and yank at your bindings in panic, but it does nothing to stop ten clawed fingers descending and scribbling along your soles. 

“NOT THEHEHEHERE PLEHEHEHEASE!” Tears slip down your cheeks as you quickly realise your thighs were not in fact your most ticklish spot. Haarlep shows no mercy, the grin on their face telling you just how much they were enjoying making you laugh and thrash on the bed. Raphael’s thumb wipes a stray tear from your face, his voice barely audible to you over your own hysterics. 

“I ask again, are you enjoying yourself?” He purrs. You clench your jaw even as Haarlep finds an extra ticklish spot under your toes, sending you spiralling into giggles. There was no way out of this, you realise. Raphael would be able to tell if you lied to him, and you weren’t stupid enough to intentionally antagonise him… at least to his face. So you grit your teeth, and give him the smallest nod. 

At once, Haarlep stops. You gasp for breath as they rub their palms firmly up and down your soles, chasing away the lingering tickles. With your eyes closed, you don’t notice Raphael reaching for you until his fingers brush the hair from your sweaty forehead. 

“Look at me, mouse.”

You open your eyes warily. The cambion and the incubus wear matching expressions of glee, and it makes your stomach jump. 

“A verbal answer, now that Haarlep has ceased his cruel torment of your poor toes.”

“You’re never going to let this go,” you state with a scowl. Raphael merely grins. 

“Never.”

“I’m enjoying myself,” you mutter. Haarlep cups one hand to their ear, and waves the other threateningly over your foot. 

“I didn’t quite catch that!”

“I’m enjoying myself!” You squeal and curl your toes protectively. Haarlep crawls back up your body and flops beside you with a content sigh. They gaze up at Raphael sweetly, pointedly hovering his palm over your belly. 

“Any more, dear Master?” 

“Hmm…” Raphael looks you over appraisingly. You suddenly realise how much of your skin is exposed to him and hurriedly try to cover yourself, which is quite difficult with no use of your limbs. Raphael, in a shocking display of mercy, snaps his fingers to release you. The ropes slither away, and you quickly yank your clothes back into place. You scowl at Haarlep as you tug your ripped bodice back over your chest, but they only bat their eyelids delicately. “You are forgiven, little mouse. We shall speak no more about your breaking and entering.”

“Thank you,” you mumble. You sit up.

“Leaving so soon?” Haarlep pouts. Your gaze flits up to Raphael. You’re going nowhere without his permission. He stands without looking at you, readjusting his sleeves and strolling to the desk by the window. He tugs a small key from his pocket and unlocks a small drawer. From inside he pulls a small silver band. He walks back over to you, holding out his hand. You accept the offered ring without thought. 

“Should you ever wish to speak with me and are unable to get to Sharess’s Caress, twirl this ring three times clockwise.” He tells you. Your eyes snap up in surprise. 

“Why?” 

“One, to avoid you ever feeling the need to come looking for me.” He scowls. You clear your throat. “Two, you have charmed me, little mouse. Naturally I was already quite fond of you, but no client of mine has ever been as bold and… entertaining, as you have been.”

“Uhm… thank you, then.” 

“Lastly, the look my incubus is giving you tells me that they would fancy playing with you again. Am I right, dear Haarlep?” 

Haarlep sits up, pressing their chest against your arm. The ghost of their breath against your neck makes you shiver. 

“Oh yes, sweet little thief. You are more than welcome to return to me anytime you like, in fact I insist upon it. I fear I have the taste of your beautiful laughter now, and would simply starve should you deprive me.” They twist a strand of your hair between red fingers. “It would benefit Raphael to have you back too, for lack of your laughter may influence me to turn my claws on him.”

A laugh bursts from your mouth even as you slap a hand over it at the look on Raphael’s face. 

Alright, perhaps you could be tempted.

[ladymisteria]

Yesterday, wandering around here on Tumblr, I found another post about how Eristine fans (like me) prove to have absolutely no understanding of Gaston Leroux's original work.

Because we do not see how wonderfully perfect - and more importantly how absolutely healthy as a choice, for Christine - is Raoul de Chagny.

The post then concluded with a clear victorious note establishing how - given the canonicity of Raoul/Christine - this paring was obviously right.

Well, if you will allow me, I would like to respond to that post - by saying that yes, it is quite true.

In fact, everyone knows that:

sneaking - uninvited! - into a person’s dressing room and expecting everyone to leave to be left alone with an unconscious young woman is healthy;

waiting, once - rightly so! - being dismissed from the dressing room by said young woman, in a dark recess, for her to be alone in order to “get back at it” with an unsolicited courtship is healthy;

getting jealous when you hear her talking to a man, to the point - literally! - to becoming enraged and beginning to regard her as a prostitute is healthy;

entering her dressing room in her absence to see who she was daring (!) to talk to is healthy;

following her when she leaves Paris, raging when she apparently rejects your affections and - again! - practically calling her a prostitute when she tries to explain about the Angel of Music is healthy;

escaping through a window so that the innkeeper doesn't see you stalking the young woman in the middle of the night - again without her knowledge - to find out if it is true that she is going to pay her respects at her father’s grave, or if it is just an excuse to meet another man, is healthy;

questioning anyone who knows anything about her and her private life - even though she has clearly expressed her intention to break off your relationship (of friendship, let’s clarify! There is no engagement, secret or otherwise) - and even going so far as to show up at her home - again, uninvited! - to “put the screws” on his elderly and ailing foster mother, suggesting to her that the said young woman is (guess what? Bravo!) almost a prostitute just because she has not yet fallen at your feet, smitten in love with a spoiled child, is healthy;

“ambushing” the carriage in which the young woman travels, so that you can confront face to face the man with whom she dared to cheat on you (?!?), ending up for the umpteenth time considering her a prostitute “who led you on” (again, what?!?) is healthy;

considering her a saint or a whore depending on the time of day is healthy;

offending and humiliating her (accusing her, as is now ritual, of being the worst of whores) when she tries to explain to you, at the masquerade ball, what has happened to her and is still happening to her is healthy;

slipping - once again! - uninvited into her dressing room, spying on her as she writes a private letter, and even managing to rage when she seems to show pity for someone who is not you is healthy;

showing up - uninvited of course - at the young woman’s home, accusing her of not being herself, of being naive and a person completely incapable of judging the people around her, trying to get her to promise that she will never go out without you again, even managing to become enraged when she refuses to reveal the name of the “man who had the audacity to put a gold ring on her finger,” and her response to the proposal that certainly came with the ring is healthy;

taking seriously a fake engagement (which has very little secret about it, since the “third wheel in the triangle” himself urges the young woman to engage in it), and firmly claiming to turn it into a marriage - despite the fact that over and over and over again the young woman has told you that she has no intention of marrying you, and that yours is a game - is healthy…

Just tell me: should I continue? Because I don’t know how you feel about it, but it never seemed to me that Raoul was so much “the best choice” at the end of the day…

(To be clear: Erik has not a few problems and flaws, but at least he was honest and never claimed to be a "healthy choice'... and no honest Eristine fan would ever say that).

As for the "canonical = perfect" argument... I would like to remind you that Hades/Persephone is also canonical, yet everything is but a happy couple riding off into the sunset, so...

(P.S. I can no longer find the original post, so I would like to apologize to @textsfromthefifthbasement for using her screenshot).

(P.S. part 2: Thanks to @brendadaaedestler for pointing out how I needed to... "express out loud" this analysis of mine of the real 'healthiness' of Raoul de Chagny's character.)

[klaissance]

indulgent established klance long-distance boyfriends coalition paladins/BOM keith reunion event GO:

keith gets to the dinner early

he had to ask kolivan to put him on the list as one of the BOM agents going and if that dude ever laughed at anything keith would swear he was laughing at him when he uninvited somebody else to put keith on the list

it's this gorgeous bigass hall with lovely vaulted ceilings and the biggest longest table keith has ever seen

aproned aliens are in set-up mode, scurrying around setting utensils and plates and namecards and chairs all around this table

keith has his mask up and everything and he nods respectfully at some of the staff as he starts to walk the length of the table

it's been too long since he saw the team he knows that and they know it too

he knows they miss him, knows it in his bones that they miss him at least some fragment as much as he aches for them (which is so much all the time)

pidge hacked a touchpad to let it transmit through the signal jammer outfitted at the BOM base so he does get to message and call home sometimes but tbh he's not on-base very often before he's jetting off to the next crazy mission halfway across the galaxy

anyway he's in this hall scanning the namecards and letting his mind wander while he waits for the guests--but mostly his former team--to show up

he finds his own card next to kolivan's, only it just says "blade of marmora guest" anonymous and replaceable, just like usual

allura is set to be seated at the head of the table with the other important people and key speakers

keith smiles despite himself at the thought of allura pacing the halls of the castleship this past week, running through versions of speeches for anyone who will listen

the smile turns into an ache when he thinks of lance, perched on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, or draped across the lounge couch, head tipped off the edge, listening and humming appraisingly at all the right moments

turning those warm brown eyes to the ceiling and pretending to think hard on it when allura asks him if he thinks she's ready

"of course princess" he'd say, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently

"I think you were born ready"

because lance has always been good at that, at making you feel like the most capable person in the Universe

halfway down the opposite side of this grandiose table, keith finds what he hadn't known he'd been looking for: four name placards right in a row, each labeled with a name and "Paladin of Voltron"

takashi shirogane, pidge holt, hunk garrett, and lance mcclain

keith frowns sourly at the next name, some alien duke or duchess or whatever the fuck, somebody important who has just won the diplomacy dinner lottery by being offered the seat next to the blue paladin

he looks across the table from here to his own seat, looming positively miles away across and down this long ass mcfreaking table

who made this chart anyway???

keith is still grumping about it as people begin to show up and he shrinks a little into himself, scanning the room for those familiar faces, the anticipation buzzing under his skin

he's so lost in the looking that he forgets himself and gets totally ambushed by a voice right up against his ear

"Getting on just as socially as usual, I see"

he whirls ready to FIGHT but it's allura !!! and the relief and joy at seeing her in person for the first time in multiple space-months is such whiplash that he pitches straight into her open arms and holds tight

when he recovers he takes down the mask and squirms awkwardly

allura is gentle and kind, knows he hates the diplomacy part, knows he's only here because he misses all of them, one of them in particular...

they do small talk for a bit, allura growing worse and worse at hiding her amusement as keith continues to turn and stare at the door with increasing frequency

her eyes are sparkling the way they do when she gossips and she asks him point blank "so, you must be excited to see your boyfriend again"

keith's mind goes blank "n-no" yknow like a liar

she's downright snickering at him and he still can't resist scanning the room

she throws him a bone, tells him the other paladins are running late coming back from the parade but will arrive soon

keith is like coolcoolcool no doubt no doubt but really cannot stop staring at the door and feeling like he might throw up and is his hair okay he didn't really think about this before he showed up, hasn't even seen it in actually days because he's had the suit on, and the suit is DUMB what the fUcK--

they get approached by other diplomats from various coalition planets and allura turns on the schmooze

keith checks his touchpad--there are three messages from lance

"SORRY BABE RUNNIGN LATE"

"c u so SOON :3 <33333333"

"*RUNNING"

" :D "

[wanderingthroughsands]

VII. Comin' for to carry me home

And now we are awake and it seems too much to take I want to close my eyes because I fear my heart will break I want to look away, I want to look away I want to look away, I must not look away

- "Light Of Love" by Florence and the Machine

I expected Dreamlord to be waiting in Fiddler’s Green, not particularly pleased to see me. The darkness that I thought had vanished returned again, enveloping his face and his deep, dark eyes. I was prepared for him to strike the moment I appeared, yet he didn’t move, even when I summoned the courage to approach far too close for an uninvited guest. The look he gave me was devoid of emotion, but I refused to be discouraged by that. I wanted him to know that no matter what, I had no intention of fighting him.

"I apologize for what happened yesterday," I said, standing before him so I could look him in the eyes. "And I apologize for what I said to you. You are the Master of Dreams and I know that, without you, the world would be bereft of hope. Right now you seek to save your kingdom, and I seek to save my life. If either of our motives is less noble, it is surely mine."

"You do not wish to become a Nightmare," he said calmly, his lips barely moving.

"I do not."

"And do you know, Rebecca Surrey," he gestured with his hand in the direction we were to walk together, a slow stroll through the greenery, "that Nightmares are as much a part of humanity as Dreams? Nightmares reveal what lies deep within you, what prevents you from taking a full, liberating breath. Your conscious mind does not want to face pain, fear, longing. But your subconscious needs confrontation. The role of the Nightmares I create is not to torment... but to heal."

"But I’ve had enough of pain and fear," I said, clenching my lips, deliberately avoiding his gaze. "and I definitely don’t seek confrontation. I just want to rid myself of the power and the darkness within me. So if there’s any chance you could take it from me…"

"We all carry darkness within us," he interrupted firmly, though this time with a certain softness in his voice. "And light. All of us, even the Endless, fight this very battle to be who we are meant to be. I know your darkness well, Rebecca Surrey, because I created it myself. And I know that you could use it to help others confront their inner fears, here, in the Dreaming."

"I just cannot agree to that, Dreamlord," I said, realizing how sorrowful the words made me feel as they left my lips. "And I’m pretty sure you already know why. I may have no control over what I am exactly, but I would like to have a say in the role, however insignificant, that I will play in my world and yours. So if I must choose between the two options you’ve given me, I choose the latter. I will not flee if it means endangering your kingdom and my loved ones. Take this power from me… and simply let me move on. If there is the Dreaming and this beautiful Fiddler’s Green," I smiled slightly, perhaps to bolster my own spirits, "then surely there must be another world where I will, uh, eventually go further."

Dreamlord halted and, touching my shoulder, compelled me to do the same. He studied me for a long while, allowing me to lose myself momentarily in the universe contained within his eyes. Those dark irises seemed to lead somewhere where there was nothing but hope. A brief thought came through my mind that if it was there I was meant to go next, the prospect of awakening in the afterworld wouldn’t be so terrifying after all.

I watched as his gaze wandered across my face, occasionally returning to my eyes, as if he was analyzing me. A familiar mix of fear and anticipation stirred in the pit of my stomach, but this time there was something more—something I couldn’t really name. It wasn’t until after the longest seconds in history had passed that I realized he had kept his hand on my shoulder the entire time, so I slowly relaxed my muscles.

I wasn’t planning to run anymore. Whatever Lord Morpheus would do now, I would surrender to it without hesitation.

"I want to offer you one more solution," he finally spoke. "But I cannot guarantee that choosing it will keep you safe."

"What is it?" I asked.

"I will remove the part of the Nightmare that was given to you. I will do it in the same way I freed your world from the Corinthian. By destroying only the Nightmare, I will leave you with the human part bestowed by your mother. If it succeeds, you will be free from the darkness and return to your world, where you will dream both Dreams and Nightmares, just like everyone else around you."

"And I won’t return to the Dreaming again?"

"Not consciously," he paused, his gaze growing more intense. "But if it fails, your power will remain in my realm, and you… you will go further."

I closed my eyes, feeling an unpleasant tingling sensation course through my entire body. I thought I was ready to give him the power derived from the Nightmare, even if it meant giving up my life as well. But now, having physically heard the words he spoke, I found myself overwhelmed by fear—an instinctual fear born of the need to survive.

I suddenly remembered my mother’s caring smile as she saw me off to work. I remembered my friends, whom I hadn’t had the chance to see for fear of burdening them with Nightmares. I remembered Veronica, who handed me the draft chapters, saying she believed in my abilities and that I would certainly handle them well. I remembered the library, the friendly cashier at the market, my favorite college professor, the restaurant with Asian cuisine, my one and only trip abroad, the park where I first saw Dreamlord.

Then I opened my eyes and looked at him again. It was from this man, as dark as night, that my journey through the Dreaming had begun. Lord Morpheus had tried to capture me, then had tried to convince me, and now… now he was trying to help me. He was an infinite being, surely he had seen thousands like me, and the fragility of human life must have left him unimpressed.

Yet, he chose to grant my request, though he had no obligation to do so. He really wanted to save my life now, and he wanted to free me from the Nightmare.

"If something goes wrong..." I finally began, struggling to keep my voice from revealing my concerns. "Will we ever see each other again?"

Some shadow flickered across Dreamlord’s face, still inscrutable, still as serene as the gentle breezes.

"No, Rebecca Surrey," he replied, loosening his grip on my shoulder. "I will not seek you out in the world where you will go."

The chill that followed when he withdrew his hand seemed to radiate far beyond my shoulder.

"Let’s try the third solution, then" I said, and, just as he had done the night before, he extended his hand to me, which this time, I took without hesitation.

When we arrived at the throne room, fear had already wrapped itself around me from all sides. I sought solace in the colorful reflections dancing on the stone sculptures, but relentless thoughts began to assail my mind with increasing intensity. Should I start counting my last breaths? Should I ask Dreamlord to let me say goodbye to my mother first? Should I want to see more of my world, take the long journey I’d always dreamed of, find my soulmate and start a family with them? Should I fight harder for the gift of life I received twenty-three years ago, one I had never fully appreciated because of the darkness within me?

Dreamlord did not let go of my hand this time, but he stood before me as he had yesterday, framed against the backdrop of his throne. He must have sensed and seen my fear, but he gave no sign of it.

"I do not wish to take your life," he said slowly and calmly, as if standing by the bedside of a sick person, trying to offer comfort. "I will only take the Nightmare that lives within you. And then you will return home."

"I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, Dreamlord," I tried to smile, but fear had already tightened all the muscles in my face. "But all I can say is that I’ve been waiting for you since I first saw you in that park. And I’m glad that, if only for a moment, I was part of your wonderful world."

He raised his other hand toward my chest, touching me with the tips of his fingers, his wrist turned upward. I struggled to breathe, knowing that if he failed, I might have only seconds left to admire his beautiful realm and to feel the extraordinary energy that radiated from him. I thought of my mother again, then looked at him and froze, seeing how he gently furrowed his brow, piercing me one more time with his deep gaze.

"You could still remain here, in the Dreaming," he spoke in a tone I had never heard from him before. It was something... almost human, as if... hesitation. "Keep your power and use it to serve people, in my world."

"Lord Morpheus, please..." I whispered, not allowing myself even a moment of doubt. "Let’s just go with it."

The energy around us thickened. I sensed more than saw how the tips of his fingers, touching the skin beneath my neck, ceased to be solid and became... granular, like heated sand. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting... though I wasn’t sure what exactly I was waiting for. His hand seemed to sink deeper into me, reaching further toward my heart. I felt my muscles weaken, my consciousness begin to drift away, my body and power surrendering to the Master of Dreams, who with extraordinary gentleness was trying to extract it from me.

And then the sudden pain struck me—a pain so sharp, so piercing, that it made everything go blindingly white before my eyes.

"D… Dream—" I managed to gasp before the pain clenched around my throat so tightly that it forced out nothing more but a choked groan.

In a fraction of a second, every cell in me began to suffer, dsperately crying out for relief. I felt as though I couldn’t bear a moment longer of this torment—I wanted so much to just look at Dreamlord, to shout at him to stop this immediately, but I was completely paralyzed by the overwhelming, excruciating pain...

And then the pain vanished, and in its place, the darkness appeared.

[xuchiya]

❇ just imagine yunho traveling to his hometown for christmas. he bids you goodbye, hugging you tightly, "i'll be back on the day after tomorrow." you nodded, patting his hair and pulling the scarf neatly on his neck. you look up at him, eyes sparkling, "be safe on your way home and the gifts." he chuckles, kissing your forehead gently, "they'll love it, thank you aein." you watch him make his way towards his car and gently place the gifts at the backseat, he turns around waving at you, "i love you!" he yells. you chuckle covering your face as it blooms in red.he saw your reaction, giggling and feeling the satisfaction of making you blush, waves again before driving off to his hometown. you wave before sighing deeply, your heart clenching at the thought of celebrating christmas, again, alone. you couldn't blame yunho, he has a family to come home to, a mother to shower him with lots of gifts, a father to tell him stories of his first christmas shenanigans and grandparents to feed him delicious foods. you walk back in your house, eyes wandering around to the well decorated living room, christmas tree adorn with cute decorations you bought online then christmas presents underneath for the boys if they ever come over to visit christmas with you and yunho, beside the christmas tree is the fireplace. you sat down, legs underneath your hips, a melancholy look, "it's just you and me, baby." you look at the median white corn snake sitting on her dead tree trunk, she hisses softly as if telling you that it's fine. you smile, picking her up and place her around your shoulders, "let's make some cookies, shall we?"

you walk towards the kitchen preparing for the baking session. the night passes and morning comes, so does the first snow, you look outside to see some kids walking down the street with their arms out, parents picking up their children to try and catch big snowflakes. you sigh, drawing the curtains back in and proceeding to do your morning routine. after a short routine, you made yourself some breakfast, fed snowy, your corn snake, and opened the present yunho said to open on christmas day. your jaw drops to the alluring necklace. it was the necklace you found in japan, the one that caught your attention while you and yunho were visiting the heart of the city. you took the necklace off from the case and carefully placed it around your neck, it was close to a choker type, but it lay perfectly between your neck and collarbones. it was simple yet it felt elegant. you sigh dreamily, your heart pounding as it glimmers when the morning sun enters the living room. you sigh, heart clenching, the same pain you endure whenever you celebrate christmas but you, once, had never resented christmas, in fact you have dearly loved the season. it was a season of giving and receiving. you give and receive but in the end, you end up receiving a news you never thought would occur one day. here you are now, alone in christmas morning with your emotional support cornsnake. absentmindedly, head full of sorrow memories, your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the front door. you sniffle, brushing away a few fallen tears before standing up. your body reacted as a sudden thought of an uninvited guest coming in, the rest of the boys were in their hometowns and yunho will be back tomorrow and that leaves you with the thought of a stranger. carefully, you peek through the monitor and only saw a bundle of lilac and pevian lilies. your favorite. you gradually approach the door, unlocking the locks and peek a small amount of your face, “yes?” when the person behind the bundle of flowers did not reveal itself; answer you either way, you open the door further and pull the bundle down gently until a face reveals you were not expecting. your heart races a mile and face flush from the cold and surprise, and tears brimming in the corner of your eyes,  “yunho?” he chuckles pulling the bundles away and opens his arms, “merry christmas aein!” you could no longer help the excitement you are experiencing, tears fell down your cheeks as you wrap your arms around him, “oh my gosh!” you both stayed in the same position, “i thought you’ll be back tomorrow?” you pull away, sniffling but a smile is on your lips, he chuckles wiping your tears, “i can’t and won't let you celebrate christmas alone again aien.” your heart swells, pulling him in a tighter hug, “i love you.” he gave you the same amount of tightness and tenderness, “i love you more than anything, merry christmas.” ❇

do you want to return to masterlist? | yes or no

[player1064]

drabble request from @mruns:

Jamie getting upset that Gary hasn't displayed the snowglobe he got him anywhere (and Gary hoarding it away with all his other Jamie Treasures)

this somehow ended up.... a thousand words long??? and tooth-rottingly sweet, I'm afraid... enjoy!

---

When they finish filming the Christmas special, someone suggests they keep the snow globe on set. Gary, after some grumblings about tacky nonsense messing up his classy interior design, sticks it on one of the shelves behind the bar and that’s where it sits throughout the whole next recording.

The week after, though, it’s gone without a word.

It’s not such a big deal, really: Gary’s fussy about everything looking just right for his show, so Jamie figures he’ll stick it somewhere that he’s not as particular about. His dressing room at Sky, maybe. That’s full of tat – ugly little bobble heads and the like.

Except, the next time Gary’s on Monday Night Football, Jamie comes up with an excuse to barge into his dressing room uninvited, and it’s not there either.

There’s a brief moment where he wonders if Gary’s thrown it out, but he quickly dismisses the thought. Gary doesn’t throw anything out, keeps things neatly packed away in his giant basement, just in case. He hadn’t even thrown out that stupid Baby Spice t-shirt, makes a point to wear it to bed when Jamie’s round just because he know it makes him laugh.

It’s stupid, really. Jamie knows it’s got to be somewhere, even if it’s just gathering dust in storage. Gary has a million different offices for his million different businesses, it could be in any one of those. It’s not a big deal. But it’s a niggle, one he can’t quite shake off once it’s gotten stuck in his head.

So, when one day he gets to Gary’s house before Gary’s home from work, he decides to hell with it and starts wandering in and out of each room, trying to see if it’s on a shelf or shoved into a cabinet somewhere. But his efforts remain fruitless, and he’s debating whether it’s morally acceptable to go to the basement and rifle through his boyfriend’s storage boxes when said boyfriend walks in and gives him a suspicious look.

“Are you doing a mischief?” he asks as he shrugs his coat off, still squinting at Jamie.

“Am I doing a – what does that even mean, ‘am I doing a mischief’, you weirdo.”

Gary wanders over to him and peers into his eyes for a moment, frowns, then just when Jamie is expecting some kind of hello kiss he pokes him in the stomach and moves away. “You look shifty, James, and not in your usual Scouser way. What’ve you done?”

“I’ve done nothin’,” Jamie argues. “I were just – looking for somethin’”

“Fer what,” Gary asks flatly, clearly unconvinced.

If he lies, Gary will know, and then he’ll definitely think Jamie is ‘doing a mischief’, so he ducks his head to hide his embarrassment and says “the snowglobe I got ya.”

“Why –” Gary starts, then his expression clears up and he tilts his head a bit, eyes soft, and sighs. “You nugget, you didn’t think I’d throw it away, did you? D’you really think I’m so heartless?”

Jamie keeps on staring at the floor, mumbles something in reply about how it would’ve been nice if he’d at least pretended to like it.

He hears Gary huff in frustration, then feels his fingers wrap around Jamie’s wrist and tug, leading him up to the master bedroom and into his walk-in wardrobe.

Gary lets go of his wrist once they’re inside and leaves Jamie standing uselessly in the middle of the room, watching as his boyfriend shoves some hanging clothes to the side of their rack and reaches up to get something from behind.

“Honestly,” he’s muttering to himself as he goes, “anyone’d think I were a monster, t’ way you go on. Never take you out, never cook you dinner, throw away the ugly and childish but actually quite thoughtful gifts you give me… your mates must think you’re a saint, putting up w’me all this time.”

He sounds more amused than upset, but Jamie still worries, so he reaches a hand out, says “Gary –” but is cut off by Gary tutting and shaking his head.

“No, no, what’s it to little old heartless me,” he says, turning to Jamie with a battered old shoebox in his hands. There’s a twinkle in his eye, and a gentle smirk as he holds it out for Jamie to take. “Go on then, you numpty.”

He opens up the box, and there’s the snowglobe: resting on top of what at first glance looks like a pile of junk. There’s an old Sky lanyard, some of those little individually-wrapped tea bags like you get in hotels. There’s a t-shirt, carefully folded but still recognisable as an old Liverpool one that Jamie had shrunk in the wash years ago, that he’d made Gary change into once after they’d been stuck out in the rain and he’d asked to borrow some dry clothes. There’s all sorts of random junk, things that Jamie barely recognises. A napkin, with the name of a restaurant printed on it in Spanish. A matchday programme, the cover creased and fading in some spots. The player in the photo on the front of it is long retired now, so the programme’s gotta be a few years old.

Ten years old, Jamie realises, feeling a warm jolt in his stomach. “This is from –”

Gary’s not looking at him, is staring down at his hands instead, cracking his knuckles. “Match we watched together, day before our first show. D’you remember?”

“’Course I do,” Jamie breathes, looking down at the box of junk and then back up at Gary. “You sentimental old fart, I can’t believe you – even then, really?”

“Yeah, well.” Gary looks at him with a sheepish smile, scratches at the back of his head. “I dunno. Guess you made an impression.”

“Christ, lad. I love you too, y’know.”

“Easy now, James,” Gary says, but he’s smiling, looping his arms over Jamie’s shoulders. “I’d be careful bandying words like that around, ‘specially to a filthy Manc. Wouldn’t want to have to get you sectioned.”

He doesn’t say it. Neither of them do, that often. But Jamie hears it all the same.

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Chapter 25

Celebrating my 50th entry, posting chapter 25 today... what a journey it's been so far! Thank you all so,very much for (still) reading, liking and commenting my little story - your feedback always means so much to me and I hope you're going to enjoy this little "happy chapter" in between all the drama... please do let me know what you think / wish for!

04th August 1995

Raymill House, Wiltshire

"Can I finally open my eyes now?", Thea asked, more excited than annoyed, as she was guided through an obviously long corridor at a house or place she didn't think she'd been before. It was her 8th birthday today, she was on summer school break, and Mummy had taken her on a very special surprise trip to a secret destination. The car ride from Middlewick House, where they were still living after Andrew had moved out right after New Year's, had only taken a few minutes so, wherever they were, it couldn't be far away, but she had no orientation left with the blindfold Mummy had put on her. "Just a few more steps, darling, we're almost there!", Camilla promised and carefully guided her birthday girl around the last corner and into the beautiful, bright room in their soon-to-be home that would soon be her's. She hadn't shown her the house with which she had fallen in love the moment she had first set a foot in yet; a beautiful, stone manor country house with a huge garden, acres, stables and a swimming pool, it was simply perfect for them, perfectly located at the end of a long driveway, hard to reach for uninvited guests and only just a short 15-minutes drive away from Highgrove. The only catch had been the price. 850,000£ was much more than she could actually effort, but thanks to the help of her father and some good friends she had eventually been able to purchase the six-bedroom house as a new home for her children and herself and she had no doubt that they'd be happy here. The room she had chosen to be Theodora's had a huge window front which offered a breathtaking view over the garden; just what her sweet little angel would love and make her feel comfortable. "Okay, darling, are you ready for your birthday surprise?", Camilla asked, feeling just as excited as the birthday girl herself. Thea nodded impatiently and Camilla solemnly removed the blindfold from her eyes. "Well, my darling… welcome to our new home!", she announced and after a few insecure blinks, Thea's eyes widened in astonishment, enchantedly wandering around the room, along the walls, up and down the ceiling and finally out of the window. "Wooow!", she exclaimed, looking at her mother in complete disbelief. "Is that true?", she asked and Camilla, wiping a few tears of joy away as she was so relieved and moved by her daughter's reaction, nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, darling, it is!", she confirmed. "And if you like it, this could soon be your room." "Oh Mummy!", Thea cheered, falling into her mother's arms. "Of course I like it! It's beautiful! Just look at the view over the garden… can we go down and have a look?"

"Yes sure, come on, I'll show you around!", Camilla said, took her daughter's hand nad happily showed her around their new home; there were six bedrooms on the first floor, one for Camilla, one for Tom, Laura and Theodora respectively, one for a guest and one which Camilla had decided to become the painting room; an entire room where she, and Thea too, if she liked as she was already a much better painter than she herself anyway and Camilla had no doubt that she had inherited that talent from Charles, could store all of their painting equipment and work on their pictures whenever they fancied and wouldn't ever have to worry about tidying it up afterwards, getting the easels out of the way or not to accidentally ruin a precious piece of furniture with a paint brush; an entire room where they could be creative, relax, dream and just do what they enjoyed most. She couldn't wait to get started! Downstairs, on the ground floor, the heart of the house was a huge kitchen which naturally invited to some cosy cooking or baking events and though it would most certainly end in a disaster, like most of her cooking or baking attempts, Camilla was still looking forward to officially inaugurating it with her children. Apart from the kitchen, the ground floor had a huge dining room where they could host the most fabulous luncheons or dinner parties with all of their friends and family, as well as two sitting rooms, one bigger and one smaller one, each with a fireplace, offering maximum cosiness, and wonderfully wide, floor-to-ceiling windows with the same, fantastic view over the garden as the ones in Thea's room. "Do you think we will be happy here, little darling?", Camilla asked as they had finished the little house tour and Thea nodded excitedly. "Yes, Mummy, very much so.", she assured her with sparkling eyes, and Camilla pulled her into her arms. "Wonderful. That makes me really, really happy.", she sighed, before enthusiastically adding: "Oh, by the way, sweetie, you haven't seen the garden yet! Come on!" With that, she took her daughter by the hand again and led her outside, where they toured the huge garden with the beautiful, mediterranean terrace, the pool area and all its wonderful trees and bushes which were all so nicely grown and surely already a home to all different sorts of local wildlife.

"And now let's go and see the stables.", Camilla said, pointing right over there. As if by command, in that very moment a horse neighed passionately, undoubtedly from the stables they were just about to view and Thea looked at Camilla irritatedly. "Mummy…? Did the former owners leave a horse here?" Camilla shrugged her shoulders in innocent unawareness. "Not to my knowledge. Let's just go and have a look!", she suggested and Thea immediately ran off to the stables. Camilla smiled as she knew exactly what was going on and she couldn't wait for her darling to discover the very special birthday present that was already waiting for her at their new home: being just as much of a pony-mad girl as her mother, Thea had been wishing to have her own horse for years and, of course, they had ponies at Middlewick House and she had been allowed to ride on some of Andrew and Camilla's horses but now that she was eight, she was old enough to have her own horse, not only for the fun things, but also to take on the less fun responsibilities that came about with owning a horse, properly looking after an animal, feeding and grooming it, mucking out its stable and all that sort of stuff, of course not on her own, but Camilla thought it'd be good for her, especially after the divorce and now with the relocation, to have something, or rather someone, she could care for and who could care for her, and unsurprisingly, both her men, Charles and Andrew had wholeheartedly agreed. What had taken her by surprise though, was Charles' suggestion to gift her one of the retired Cavalry Blacks who had been helping to guide the Royal Family taking part in huge ceremonial occasions like Trooping the Colour - an incredibly patient, strong, resilient and calm, very special breed that not even Andrew, despite all of his years served in the Household Cavalry, had ever been able to call his own yet. Of course, it was all different for Charles, who had insisted that his daughter should have the very horse that had served himself over several years, before it got too old for all the pomp and circumstances, especially the loud noises and huge crowds, but aged 18, the good-natured gelding was just perfect as a first horse for a little girl like Thea. He had arrived a few days ago and Charles had temporarily sent over someone from Highgrove to look after him for as long as Camilla and the children hadn't moved it yet. His name was Albert and Charles had even commissioned an incredibly noble, royal blue saddle pad with his name embroidered, as well a as very special blanket, also in royal blue, saying "Happy 8th birthday Theodora", which he himself had carefully put on Albert's back once he had heard Camilla’s car rolling up the driveway. "See, old boy, here comes your new owner.", he whispered as he noticed Thea running over. Hopefully it was going to be a success…

Of course it was a success. Thea was absolutely over the moon with both, her birthday present as such, and the fact that it came from Sir and that he was there. She excitedly ran into his arms and Charles picked her up, twirling her around, both of them happily giggling and laughing. Once more, Camilla had to turn around and wipe a few tears away. It was such a relief to see her little girl, who'd been through quite a lot recently, so happy again, and of course it always made her particularly emotional to see Charles and Thea together like that. If only… - "no, stop it!", she admonished herself, before straightening her shoulders, putting on a brave face, smilingly greeting the love of her life with a firm kiss, while Thea was already bonding with Albert, friendly introducing herself, speaking to him and patting him carefully. "Perhaps he'd like some polos.", Camilla suggested and handed her daughter a box of polo mints, which gave them a few private seconds. "Hello darling.", she whispered, looking at him in pure love and adoration. Sometimes, her feelings for him still overwhelmed her. "It's so nice to see you." Of course, Charles noticed the tears in her eyes immediately, pulled her in his right arm and tenderly stroked her back. "You're alright, darling?", he asked concernedly, looking at her in sorrow. "Yes, yes, darling. It's just that days like this always make me a bit… melancholic.", she said. He didn't reply but instead pulled her even closer and gently kissed her forehead. He understood. And he felt the same. But for him this birthday was an enormous improvement compared to the years before. He still wasn't in her life as her father and probably would never be, but at least he was there as her mother's partner, he could be with his ladies at all, and express his endless love for them both and it almost felt like they were a really, normal, happy family. "Wanna go for a little walk?", he asked, offering her an arm to link and she agreed only too happily.