#he's papering it over with wild energy but

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

All I Want for Christmas Is You (and You)

Pairing: Steddie x reader

Warnings: fluff, celebrating Christmas

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and happy holidays!

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Outside, snow fell in soft, swirling flakes, coating the streets of Hawkins in a pristine white layer that muffled all sound. The air was crisp, with a faint scent of pine and chimney smoke drifting through the neighborhood. Inside your house, though, the world was warm and inviting. The golden glow of the fireplace filled the room, its flames crackling and casting dancing shadows on the walls.

The centerpiece of the living room was your Christmas tree. It stood proudly in the corner, decorated to perfection with twinkling colored lights, ornaments you’d collected over the years, and an angel perched delicately at the top. Beneath it lay a small pile of wrapped presents, each one tied with ribbons that glimmered in the firelight.

The aroma of freshly baked cookies wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the scent of cinnamon candles burning on the mantle. On the coffee table, a platter of festive snacks waited: gingerbread men with crooked smiles, candy canes nestled in a bowl, and a dish of caramel popcorn sprinkled with crushed peppermint. You adjusted the red-and-white checkered blanket draped over the couch, ensuring everything looked just right for your two guests.

Your heart raced a little in anticipation. Steve and Eddie were on their way, and even though you’d spent countless evenings with them, something about tonight felt special. Maybe it was the season, the magic of Christmas wrapping itself around the three of you like a warm hug. Or maybe it was because tonight, you could no longer ignore the feelings you had for both of them.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. You hurried to answer, pulling it open to reveal Steve Harrington. He stood on your porch, bundled in a long wool coat and a red plaid scarf, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold. Snowflakes clung to his perfectly styled hair, melting slowly as they met the warmth of his skin.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his voice soft and warm, carrying that familiar tone that always made your chest flutter.

“Merry Christmas, Steve.” You smiled, stepping aside to let him in.

He carried a plate of cookies in one hand, their intricate frosting designs making it clear that Steve hadn’t been the one to decorate them. As if reading your mind, he laughed sheepishly.

“Robin made these,” he admitted. “I, uh, supervised.”

You took the plate from him, examining the cookies with a grin. “Supervised, huh? I’m sure you were a big help.”

Steve chuckled, shrugging off his coat and scarf. “Hey, I was moral support. That counts for something.”

Before you could respond, another knock—this one loud and insistent—echoed through the room. The door rattled slightly as Eddie Munson let himself in without waiting for an invitation. He was a whirlwind of energy, stomping snow off his boots and shaking it from his wild curls as he stepped inside.

“Ho, ho, holy crap, it’s freezing out there!” he exclaimed, his voice carrying over the crackle of the fire.

Eddie was wrapped in his signature leather jacket, though it did little to protect him from the cold. Beneath it, he wore a battered Christmas sweater featuring a reindeer with one eye missing, the faded design barely visible under years of wear. In his arms was a chaotic pile of gifts, each one wrapped in mismatched paper—some with skulls and flames, others garishly festive with glittering gold and green patterns.

“Merry freakin’ Christmas!” he announced, grinning as he set the gifts on your coffee table with a dramatic flourish.

“Eddie,” you scolded, laughing as you brushed snow off his shoulders. “You’re making a mess!”

“And yet, here I am, spreading holiday cheer.” He smirked, kicking his boots off haphazardly by the door. “What can I say? I’m a giver.”

Steve leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed. “A giver of chaos, maybe.”

Eddie shot him a mock glare. “Don’t be jealous, Harrington. Not all of us were born to be Mr. Perfect Christmas.”

You rolled your eyes at their familiar banter, stepping between them. “Okay, that’s enough. Both of you, go sit down. I’ll get the cocoa.”

The living room was filled with the sound of the two men settling into their usual spots—Steve on the couch, sitting upright with his hands resting on his knees, and Eddie sprawling across the armchair, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. You returned moments later with three mugs of steaming hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream and a sprinkle of crushed candy cane.

“Extra marshmallows for both of you,” you said, handing them their mugs. “You’re welcome.”

Eddie took a sip, groaning in exaggerated delight. “Oh, this is the good stuff. I knew I came to the right place.”

Steve rolled his eyes but smiled, his gaze softening as it landed on you. “She does know how to make a mean cup of cocoa.”

The evening passed in a flurry of laughter and friendly competition. Eddie insisted on playing charades, throwing himself into each round with theatrical flair that had you doubled over with laughter. Steve tried to maintain his cool but couldn’t help grinning as Eddie made a fool of himself. The game quickly devolved into chaos, with marshmallows flying across the room as Eddie accused Steve of cheating.

By the time you moved to decorating cookies, your cheeks ached from smiling. Eddie smeared green frosting across his cheek like war paint, declaring himself “the Christmas Cookie King,” while Steve tried and failed to pipe a straight line on a gingerbread man. The three of you worked side by side, the kitchen counter covered in sprinkles and powdered sugar by the end of it.

It wasn’t until you stretched and moved back into the living room that you noticed the mistletoe hanging above the doorway. Your heart skipped a beat as you froze beneath it, your eyes flicking upward.

“Well, well, well,” Eddie drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Look who’s under the mistletoe.”

Steve’s gaze followed Eddie’s, his expression softening as he stood. “It’s tradition,” he said, his voice warm and steady.

Your pulse quickened as they stepped closer, the playful energy between them shifting into something heavier, more charged. Eddie’s usual grin faltered, replaced by a nervous flicker in his eyes, while Steve’s confident demeanor softened, his lips curving into a small, hesitant smile.

“Guys…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “What if… what if I didn’t want to choose?”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. Eddie blinked, his brows lifting in surprise, while Steve’s jaw tensed as he processed what you’d just said. For a moment, the three of you stood in silence, the firelight flickering across your faces.

Finally, Eddie broke the tension with a slow, lopsided grin. “Not choosing, huh?” he said, his voice quieter now. “I think I can work with that.”

Steve’s smile returned, this time reaching his eyes. “Yeah… I think I can too.”

They leaned in at the same time, their movements slow and deliberate. Steve pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips warm and lingering, while Eddie brushed his lips over the corner of your mouth, his touch light and teasing.

Later, the three of you were tangled together on the couch, wrapped in blankets and basking in the quiet glow of the Christmas tree. Steve’s arm rested around your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm, while Eddie’s head lay in your lap, his curls spilling over your thighs.

“Merry Christmas,” you murmured, your heart full and content.

“Merry Christmas,” they echoed in unison, their voices soft and full of promise. For the first time, everything felt exactly as it should.

——

The fire had burned low, casting the room in soft, flickering shadows, but none of you were in any rush to move. Outside, the snowstorm had picked up, winds howling faintly against the windows, but inside was a cocoon of warmth and comfort.

Eddie shifted slightly, his head still resting in your lap as he gazed up at you with a mischievous grin. “You know,” he began, his voice low, “this is a pretty sweet setup you’ve got here. Cozy fire, good cocoa, killer snacks… I might never leave.”

You laughed softly, your fingers absently brushing through his curls. “That’s assuming I let you stay, Munson.”

Steve smirked from his spot beside you, his arm draped casually around your shoulders. “She’s got a point. You’ve already eaten half the snacks.”

“Half?” Eddie shot upright, mock offense written all over his face. “You’re counting? You’re supposed to be the cool one, Harrington!”

Steve shrugged, his grin widening. “Cool doesn’t mean I can’t call you out.”

Eddie opened his mouth to retort, but you interrupted with a small groan. “You two. Can we go one evening without you bickering like kids?”

Their banter ceased instantly, both of them exchanging sheepish glances. Eddie flopped back down into your lap with a dramatic sigh. “Fine, I’ll behave—for now.”

The quiet that followed was warm and companionable. Steve’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, and Eddie’s breathing slowed as your hand continued to work through his hair. The three of you sat there for a while, lost in the peaceful glow of the Christmas lights.

But eventually, Eddie’s restless energy got the better of him. He rolled off the couch in one swift motion, landing on his knees in front of the coffee table. “Alright,” he declared, pulling a guitar pick from his pocket as if it were some sacred artifact. “Let’s make this a proper Christmas—time for music!”

Steve groaned, though you could see the amused glint in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you brought your guitar.”

Eddie grinned, reaching behind the chair where he’d apparently stashed his acoustic guitar without you noticing. “Oh, I did. And lucky for you two, I’ve prepared some holiday classics.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Eddie settled himself cross-legged on the floor, strumming a few chords to test the tuning. “Holiday classics? Let me guess—your version of ‘Jingle Bells’ involves screaming and power chords?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” Eddie winked at you before launching into a surprisingly gentle rendition of “Silent Night.” His voice, rough but melodic, filled the room as his fingers moved expertly across the strings.

Steve leaned back, letting out a low whistle. “I’ll give it to you, Munson. You’ve got range.”

Eddie smirked between verses, never missing a beat. “You’re welcome to join in, Harrington. Or are you scared I’ll outshine you?”

Steve rolled his eyes but eventually gave in, grabbing one of the wrapped boxes Eddie had brought. It turned out to be a tambourine—tacky, gold, and probably bought as a joke. Nevertheless, Steve shook it in time with the music, adding a playful rhythm to Eddie’s strumming.

The next hour passed in a blur of laughter, music, and more snacks. Eddie sang everything from traditional carols to offbeat Christmas songs he claimed to have written himself. At one point, Steve even surprised you by jumping in with harmonies, his voice blending with Eddie’s in a way that made you momentarily forget to breathe.

As midnight approached, the mood shifted again, the laughter giving way to a quieter kind of happiness. You all settled back on the couch, Eddie sprawled half across you and Steve, his arm resting over your legs. The tree lights twinkled softly, and the snowstorm outside seemed to calm.

Steve broke the silence, his voice low and thoughtful. “This is… nice. I don’t think I’ve had a Christmas like this in a long time.”

Eddie looked up from where his head was nestled against your shoulder. “Same here. Usually, it’s just me and Wayne—and while he’s great, he’s not exactly the festive type.”

You smiled, reaching out to squeeze both of their hands. “Well, now you have each other. And me. That’s what Christmas is supposed to be about, right? Being with the people who matter.”

Steve’s hand tightened around yours briefly before he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. “You’re not just someone who matters,” he murmured. “You’re… everything.”

Eddie snorted softly, but his tone was tender as he added, “Look at you, Harrington, getting all sappy. But yeah, what he said.” He shifted to kiss your cheek, his lips brushing just below Steve’s. “You’re everything, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks flushed as warmth spread through your chest. The three of you sat in silence after that, tangled together and basking in the quiet joy of simply being there for each other.

As the clock struck midnight, Eddie raised his mug of cocoa with a lopsided grin. “Here’s to us. The weirdest, most dysfunctional Christmas trio in Hawkins.”

Steve laughed, clinking his mug against Eddie’s and yours. “To us.”

You smiled, your heart full as you leaned against both of them. “To us,” you echoed, knowing this was a Christmas you’d never forget.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[peeweekey]

8:05 | SAM

word count: 3.2k

summary: sam’s ten heart event with a twist.

tags: winter, developing relationships, fluff, swearing, cuddling, hiding from his mother in his bed lol

a/n: this spiralled out of my control and into 3k words… enjoy!

it’s cold.

the fleece coat you’ve bundled yourself in cannot protect goosebumps from forming from the biting chill of the valley’s winter nights. your breaths come out in cloudy puffs of air, the heat slowly draining out of every exhale. it’s dark out, poorly spaced lampposts providing the bare minimum amount of light to navigate.

you got sam’s letter earlier, a clumsily written note that was stuffed haphazardly into your farm’s mailbox—the yellow lined paper he used, all crumpled and ripped.

meet me in front of my house! at 8 pm, i’ll be waiting. there’s something i want to tell you.

the ending sentence is somehow even more sloppily written compared to the ones before it. as if he was debating whether or not to add it in, but ultimately decided for it—it’s funny to imagine him hunched over his desk, stressing over what to write to you.

well, you won’t deny feeling excitement over the possibility of whatever sam has to say. if the subtle skip in your step is anything to go by.

you walk through the silent night of the town, it seems like everything’s frozen in place during the colder times of the year—everyone’s safe at home, toasty under their covers and you’d imagine thoroughly enjoying going to bed at 7 pm.

you do too, sometimes. there’s less to do when the ground is too frozen to plant any crop.

there’s a lot more free time out of the farm during the winter. you’ve really started integrating yourself with the townspeople—helping haley find her bracelet, befriending sam’s prickly coworker shane, and even discovering a shadowperson named Krobus in the town sewers. it really is starting to feel like home.

walking, you cut the corner passing by emily and haley’s house—and there he is.

he looks devastatingly handsome all dressed in winter clothing. his regular denim jacket switched out for a dark woolen coat, his pants are unripped and, surprisingly, not smeared with dirt.

though what you like most about his winter attire is his hair. those wild golden locks are laid flat under a woolen beanie—a stark difference from the spiked updo he usually does (though you like that one too). the tips of his hair are slightly curled upwards, revealing that family trait of curly hair.

you creep closer, just watching him wait for you—the way he folds his arms in an attempt to warm up, and the little shuffle he does on his feet. you laugh softly, he must’ve been waiting a while—just like you have for him.

sam turns at the sound of your laugh, his body unconsciously tilting towards you, like a magnet’s uncontrollable attracting to metal. “you made it,” he breathes, his nose, ears and cheeks pinkened by the cold.

you nod, unable to stop a bashful smile from forming on your lips. “i made it.”

a big grin splits his face, mimicking yours. underneath the lone lamplight he looks jaw-droppingly handsome. you feel yourself become warm just in proximity to him.

“i wanted to talk to you in private,” he says. sam’s buzzing with energy, surveying the dark streets before meeting your gaze with his. “it’s kinda cold out here though… i, um—i can sneak you into my room…”

your heart skips a beat, like you’ve skipped a step on a staircase. “what?” you croak.

your eyes catch onto him wringing his fingers, a nervous habit you can’t help but always notice (not because his hands are nice and interesting to look at, not at all).

“you don’t wanna?”

“no!” you inhale, trying to alleviate the twisting sensation in your gut. “i do wanna, ahem, lead the way.”

sam smiles at you, dimples and all. he leads you towards the tiny bedroom window in front of his house. the window is already open—you assume that’s where he jumped out of to meet you.

he climbs through the window with minimal effort, landing on the flooring with a dull thump!

you raise a brow. “have you done this before?”

sam stretches his hand out to you, waiting. his smile turnt sheepish. “i mean, i think we were all rebellious teenagers once.”

you resist the urge to snort—sam’s nervous, you can tell. he doesn’t have his quips and jokes tonight. and he’s shy, but eager. like a puppy, excited and curious about the world.

“o-kay,” you say, one hand in his hand the other set firmly on the windowsill. “make sure i don’t fall please.”

sam nods, eagerly. the curled ends of his hair shake along with the motion as he does.

how endearing.

you tighten your grip on his hand, hauling yourself through the small window, trying your damn best to not make any sudden noise. which is successful for the most part, only a tiny huff of exertion escapes you.

annoying, yes. but the chill of winter burns through any energy you have faster than other seasons.

your feet connect with the wood of his floor, hand still clasped in his and the chill merely at your back. it’s warm inside, with him.

his room is the same as it’s always been when you’d visit before—shelves, band equipment, posters—but the ambiance is different. a little more charged with tension so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

sam does not bother turning on his light, you don’t mind it all that much. but it takes some effort to avoid tumbling over stray objects that clutter his bedroom floor.

“look, I know I’ve been about nothing but the band for a while now…” he starts. “but I don’t want you to think that’s all i’m interested in.”

you chuckle, clasping your fingers behind your back. “it certainly takes up a big chunk of your interests.”

he pouts, literally pouts. it must be the love bug you caught because you think it’s just plain adorable. “i’m really trying over here!”

“sorry!” you grin, “okay, continue.”

“well, um… shoot, this is kinda hard, huh?” he forces an awkward chuckle. “and nerve-wrecking… but what i’m trying to say is…”

“i’m really happy that we’ve grown this close, and well…” sam looks at you, he’s stupidly red—the color spreading all over his face. “i—i’m just wondering, do you think of me as… just a friend?”

your breath stutters, and you feel yourself blushing before you can do anything to stop it. you stare at him as he does with you. the two of you locking eyes for a second, it feels like it’s just you and him in the world.

you feel your shy admittance at the tip of your tongue. no, you’d say, you’re more than that for me, if you want to be.

sam smiles at you, shy but so, so overwhelmingly bright—it’s blinding. your head is running a mile a minute when you finally get the courage—

“sam!” you hear jodi’s groggy voice from outside the door. your stomach drops with dread. “somebody’s at the door! go and check please?”

you lock eyes once again, this time for entirely different reasons, and with entirely different feelings.

“oh my god, sam,” you whisper hurriedly, panic gripping you. “your mom doesn’t know i’m here—what do we do—”

“hold on—” he replies, with the same sense of urgency as you. “okay, okay—i have a plan, just trust me, ‘kay?”

you think you might break out into a cold sweat. you look at him quizzically, “what?”

sam gives you an apologetic smile with that stupid beautiful face of his, he moves forward, grabbing you by your wrists, and moving you with him—towards his bed.

“sam!” you hiss, alarms are blaring in every corner of your mind as sam all but drags you under the toasty covers of his bed. he lifts the blanket and stations you by the edge, covering you in the blanket—which is now a lumpy mess.

this is his childhood bed you’re in, where his mother and brother are just by the door.

and his mother is calling him.

“i’ll get this over with quick,” he says to you, already heading towards the door of his room. “hang on tight, ‘kay?”

you breathe a sound of agreement, way too jittery to formulate any proper response as you quieten under the covers.

though the sheets do feel nice, and smells overwhelmingly of that specific cologne he uses (stolen from joja inventory, he told you once). you will yourself not to relax and melt into the sheets so fast. instead, you listen for each and every sound that may give hint to whatever the hell is happening.

there’s a commotion that you can hear happening, the door swings open, the hinges creaking along with it—this whole surreal experience feels a little like the confrontation part of a horror movie, the helpless victim hiding and the heavy footfalls of the killer.

though in your case, it’s not one set of footsteps, but two.

“what are you two doing here?”

“you’re the one who called us over, remember?” you can recognize the band’s shut-in pianist’s voice from anywhere. “you were all like, stop skipping practice, seb.”

sam’s voice is oddly pitchy when he responds. “…well, tonight’s no good!”

you hear the other person huff, you strain your ears harder to listen. the huffing person clearly fed up with the strange behavior sam’s putting out right now.

“my mom and vincent are asleep,” he adds hurriedly. “they’d wake up—”

you resist the urge to groan, stifling your mouth under a sweaty palm. jodie was just speaking to him minutes ago, there’s no way they’d buy that. he cannot be a more obvious liar.

thankfully they gloss over the fact. “sam, why are you acting so damn weird?” sebastian asks, straightforward as ever.

“yeah,” the other voice adds. feminine but strong. which you now identify as abigail’s, you hear a pinch of impatience in her voice. “and why are you red? did you sit outside in the snow or something—”

sam chokes, which he tries to conceal as an odd sounding cough. abigail pauses mid-sentence. the shift in the atmosphere is palpable. you screw your eyes shut, hearing the rapid rate of your heartbeat. it’s so loud you’re almost convinced the trio can hear the thumping from your hiding spot under the sheets. this is it, they’re going to discover you.

“oh, oh i see,” abigail grins. “on second thought, i wouldn't risk catching all those germs. i’m feeling starved, let’s hit the saloon, seb.”

the aforementioned man grumbles, seemingly puzzled by the sudden switch in abigail’s attitude. “huh… why?” abigail must have whispered something to him—you can barely hear over the muffle of sam’s blanket comforters. “ugh, alright. fine. you owe us one, sam.”

“oh, of course! mhm, yup,” you cringe at the immense awkwardness of sam’s response, feeling the overwhelming urge to pull out your own hair. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah? now shoo! wouldn’t wanna get you both sick or somethin’…”

“huh?” sebastian replies, rightfully puzzled as they’re forcefully pushed out of the room. “why would we see you tomorrow if you’re sick—”

“well seb,” abigail says smugly. “let’s just say sammy here is taking care of some important business—”

“okay, bye!” you hear the door click shut. to your utter bewilderment, sam shut the door in their faces.

the room is deathly quiet, the air is stagnant and stuffy. once you feel it safe enough, you crane your neck out of the blankets to check over him. to trace any lingering feeling the sudden visit might’ve given him. sam’s got his back rested against the wood of his door, his back slumped.

“i—i wasn’t expecting that,” you say quietly from your hiding spot on his bed. peeking the top half of your face, watching the door carefully. “kinda nerve-wracking.”

and embarrassing.

“i know—i’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing his temples. “i didn’t expect them coming over.”

“sebastian said you invited them for practice, though.” you point out.

“maybe i did,” he admits, creeping closer to you on the bed, even if he’s guilty and embarrassed. “i totally forgot—i mean, i was really nervous! my mind blanks when i get nervous…”

sam stops right by the side of the bed, as if he’s waiting for your permission to get in with you—in his own bed. and to be perfectly honest, you really want him to.

“kinda ruined the atmosphere too,” he looks away from you, eyes downcast and melancholy. “i had this whole thing planned too, and i, just… ugh…”

your eyes soften. “sam, it’s really fine. okay, maybe a little shocking but you know it’s not enough to scare me away.”

he looks down at you, worried. his eyebrows are ever so slightly pinched—you wish you could run your fingers over it, and smooth it out yourself.

“plus,” you murmur, reaching over the small amount of space between the two of you to clasp his wrist. “i’m not just gonna leave… just tell me what you were going to say—before the… interruption.”

that gives you the final push to gather your courage to tug him into bed with you. sam follows, flopping onto the empty bedding next to you without a fight. for a moment, it’s just the two of you, side by side, slowly huddling closer and closer for warmth.

and sam is warm. he’s practically radiating comfy heat you wish to burrow into—or wrap yourself around. the perfect bed-partner for winter nights like these.

you find yourself becoming addicted to the feeling.

sam angles his body towards you. you on your back and him on his side, it feels intimate and special. and for some reason, it feels familiar—like you’ve always belonged by his side.

“i think you know already,” he tells you, his eyes are not clear in the dim light but you know, there are practically hearts in them. “that i like you.”

you giggle softly. “and i think you know the same about me.”

sam tentatively grasps your hand, the freezing fingertips thawing under his careful touch. the caress of his hand on yours sends tingling electricity down your spine, your whole body feels alert—alive.

he speaks again, but this time his tone is a whisper of what it usually is. “stay awhile?”

“yeah,” you swallow, squeezing his hand in your grip. a small smile on your lips. “yes, i want to.”

“good,” he smiles, his eyes crinkle at the edges so softly and the dimples on his cheeks deepen. there really is no one else who can compare for you. “hey, you’re really cold… let me warm you up?”

you turn to your side, facing him. at this angle, your faces are mere inches apart. you can trace every dip, line and curve of his face, and he yours. your hand tingles with the overwhelming urge to reach for him and squeeze.

“it is cold,” you agree. “i’d very much like that.”

“phew,” he softly sighs. sam drags his fingers up your arm, stopping at your elbow. wherever he touches, a whisper of him lingers on your skin—a bone deep imprint you yearn for him to spread all across your skin.

you roll into him with little to no effort at all. sam drags you to his chest, your ear perched right above his heart, you can hear the steady thump! of his heartbeat from underneath. sam winds his arms around you, intensifying the heat you feel by tenfold—it’s not uncomfortable at all, though. you like it.

your bodies fit perfectly together, just like puzzle pieces. a mess of limbs tangling together. the warmth of him making you shudder in honey-like delight. it feels syrupy and soft and warm wrapped in his arms.

his hand at your back travels downwards, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake you feel even through the thickness of the fabric separating the skin of your back and his fingertips. his hands feel rough and calloused at the small of your back—from playing guitar and his skateboarding incidents—but you enjoy the feeling.

you trail your fingers under the thick fabric of his jacket and shirt, feeling the smooth skin underneath—the action has no deeper meaning than you wanting to feel.

sam’s uncharacteristically quiet. his breaths are slow and long, like he’s on the verge of sleep. yet his arms are wound tight around you—like he never wants to let go of you. your nerves make you feel like a slow simmering soup. warm and slowly cooking over the fire.

you two stay entangled for a while, in comfortable silence. sometime during the night you’ve matched your breathing to his, and he pulled you somehow even closer to his body.

but, a thump comes from his window, a light tapping sound. soft but persistent. the two of you opt to ignore it, in favor of snuggling closer to each other. yet the taps continue, and become louder and faster.

disrupted by the noise, sam mournfully throws the covers from over him to check, untangling himself from your grip. leaving a very him-shaped indent on the bed left in his wake. you groan, sticking your bottom lip out, you miss the warmth of him already.

“oh shit.”

the expletive makes you sit up in his bed, the comforter draping off your middle. you can make out the shape of him even with the dimness of the light—sam’s back is towards you, and if your eyes dare deceive you, he looks like he’s shrinking into himself a tiny bit.

“what is it?” you whisper-shout to him.

he slowly turns to you, wide eyed, his shoulders stiff. sort of resembling a kicked-dog. sam bows down his head—with what you think is shame, for what reason, you can’t tell. rubbing your eyes of sleep, you furrow your brow, craning your neck to look out the window behind him.

abigail and sebastian are there, waving wildly at you. your eyes widen. abigail and sebastian are waving at you with smug smiles plastered on their faces.

your stomach drops for the umpteenth time that night. you honestly feel too horrified to speak.

you bury yourself under the sheets, a feeble attempt to conceal your mortification. so that’s why abigail was playing along with sam’s urgent ramblings—she knew (not that sam was any good at keeping a cool facade, he is totally incapable of lying smoothly). you groan, you feel like a rebellious teenager again, only the part where you get caught and utterly humiliated.

outside, you can hear the loud roaring laughter of the duo through the glass, alongside the awkward, embarrassed chatter of your newly-minted boyfriend. (not technically official, but the title succeeds to relieve your horror by the tiniest bit)

still, you stay put. through the mortification and embarrassment you still stick yourself to sam’s side, or more literally, on his bed—because you know, there’s no other place you’d rather be.

you spare another glance out of the covers at the trio—to your surprise, sam’s beat you to it. looking at you with heart eyes and the most lovesick expression (you’re pretty sure yours looks the same).

you know there’s going to be a lot more explaining to do in the morning. but it doesn’t matter to you, not right now when you’re in sam’s bed on the verge of sleep.

not when you feel so warm.

a/n: shoutout to the ass trio for making an appearance in the fic! i love you abby and seb.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Ex-husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley Drabble

Hi lovelies! Lia here again, I've been quite busy with school so I hope you guys can be a little patient with content since I've been stuck on a slump and there's a lot of things I'm currently busy with at the moment because of school despite posting so much last week. Here's the weekly content and I hope you all enjoy :)

Also how do you all feel if I write works inspired by old gacha songs? And yes I used to be a gacha girly, it was some wild phase AHAHAHA

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thesnowurzikdjinn @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000

Brainrot, Ex-husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley who decided he wanted to get a divorce with you because things weren't working out between the both of you, so you had to share custody of your daughter.

You managed to get yourself together, having no time to grieve that part of you that he took with him because you had a little one depending on you. You loved that girl for all she was, however she brings you and Simon together.

Not that you resent her for it, god no, it wasn't her fault you and your husband couldn't see eye to eye.. that he refused to retire after everything, maybe it was just your paranoia getting to you. You couldn't stand the fear anymore, the fear of one day he's not the one you'll see when you open the front door but Price.

You forgot how difficult it was doing this on your own until now, you could barely get up, your head was actually killing you. You pushed through, making your daughter breakfast.

You felt like you were about to throw up, ears started to ring and everything else felt numb. The next thing you know was your eyes rolling back and everything going black, the last thing you heard was your toddler panicking, calling you over and over on the verge of crying.

All while you were unconscious, your little one runs to your room to look for your phone to call her dad.

"Listen I know we—" Simon said expecting you on the phone before getting cut off by his daughter..

"Dada! Momma's dead, dada. Momma's not breathing!" In a panic, she cried it out like a mantra. Simon was in a panic, he got up from where he was and was speeding towards what used to be your shared home.

The next thing you know, you were hearing the beeps of a heart monitor. All your senses were working, all except sight.. you didn't have enough energy to open them, in the coldness of your whole body from the well ventilated room, you felt warmth on your hand.

It was all too familiar, calloused but so gentle and warm. Simon.. it was Simon. All while processing this situation, all that's going through Simon's head are the what ifs.

"Fucking hell, help her.. My wife, she's been unconscious for thirty minutes. She's breathing but it's faint and she's burning" Simon almost yelled in a full panic, he was doing his best not to snap at the hospital staff but how couldn't he? Hadn't even realized that he called you something you weren't anymore, the title he took with him.

Your little one holding her dad's hand in the waiting room, she was observant, an emotionally intelligent little girl who holds her dad's hand. Simon keeps reminding himself to calm down, how much his bumblebee must be terrified, far more than he was so he takes her in his arms.

Sooner or later they were allowed to enter, doctor said you were stabilized and only collapsed from a horrid fever and so much fatigue. Thinking of losing you, just like that with no warning would be the second time Simon would lose you.

Now watching you unconscious, IV tube connected to you because of course you haven't been eating well either. It made him rethink everything, was it a mistake to give you those papers? Was it worth it losing the one person in his life who he would give his life for with no hesitation?

All he could do for now was sit next to you, no matter how long it takes for you to wake up because he doesn't have the strength to leave, maybe in a day or two but not now..

Part 2 anyone?

[nerdy-novelist017]

Trouble (Eric Draven x Rebel!Reader)

Bill Skarsgard, covered in blood and acting feral as he violently kills people to avenge the woman he loves?? Yeah, that really did a number on me….but I couldn’t help but fall in love with Eric’s quiet character in the first act so pls enjoy my ramblings! 💕

Eric Draven Masterlist

Word Count- 1.5k+

Summary- Eric's carefully guarded solitude is disrupted by a bold newcomer who seems to be trouble incarnate.

“I wanna get in trouble.”

A voice, sudden and electric, broke Eric from his reverie as a figure’s shadow fell across the intricate lines and shadows of his drawing. He glanced up hesitantly, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight behind you. His eyes were met with the sight of you – a tempestuous spirit with wild, untamed hair that cascaded around your face like a mane, defying the order and discipline of this facility. There was a glint in your eyes, mischievous and daring, that seemed to challenge the very atmosphere around you. You loomed above him, a figure of restless energy, waiting for a response that he was unprepared to give. 

“What?” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to the boldness of your intrusion. 

You grinned cheekily, and with an audacity that left him momentarily stunned, you stepped up onto the picnic bench he was perched at, planting yourself so that you were sitting on the table as if it was your own personal stage. Your feet, clad in worn, oversized sneakers rested casually on the seat in a silent declaration of your disregard for rules. “Don’t you?”

Eric blinked at you, his brows furrowed as he hastily pulled his papers closer, as if to shield them from your encroaching presence. “No.”

“No?” you parroted, a suggestive playfulness tone to your voice. “But this place is so boring.” 

He glanced around the yard, taking in the stark reality of the rehab facility, his eyes lingering on the chain link fence with its towering barbed wire glinting menacingly in the afternoon sun. “It’s supposed to be,” he said with cold detachment. “And you’re not supposed to be fraternizing with me.”

You followed his gaze, casting a sly look to the guards who stood at the back door, and a smirk danced on your lips. “Uh oh, I wonder what the consequences for that will be.”

Eric wanted to roll his eyes at your attitude. This was how all the newbies were when they came in: brash, defiant and convinced they could outwit the system. They came in with fire in their eyes only for it to be extinguished within days by the crushing reality of their situation. Nobody stayed trouble for long. He watched as their bravado withered, soon to be replaced by resignation. And the ones like you – those who pushed the boundaries with reckless abandon – often found themselves confined to solitary confinement, their spirits slowly eroded by the wright of their own demons. 

“You think I could seduce one of these guards to sneak us in some contraband?” you asked, raising your brow in a conspiratorial way as you nodded toward a pair of male guards standing near the backdoor, idly chatting and sharing a cigarette. 

Eric’s gaze traveled over you, from the oversized, ugly pink sweatshirt that swamped your frame to the untamed hair that framed your face like a wild halo. You spoke of “us” as if any semblance of companionship existed between you too. There wasn’t. It was just him and his solitary existence. He had no need for friends, no desire for connections – especially not from someone like you. 

“No,” he said finally as he returned to his sketch, hoping his blatant disinterest would be enough to drive you away. “You need to get off the table.”

He could feel your eyes on him, your gaze almost too intense. When you tilted your head, studying him in amused disbelief, he knew what was coming. Another newbie thinking they could crack him open like some sort of nut, put together the broken pieces like a puzzle. He kept his attention on the drawing, hoping you’d take the hint and leave him alone. 

“C’mon, you don’t look like someone who’s this much of a stick in the mud.” Your voice was playful, teasing but Eric could sense the challenge beneath it. His silence seemed to fuel you, as if his resistance was exactly what you were hoping for. “What’s your name anyway?”

He hesitated, hating how you were forcing him to interact with you like some needy puppy. “Eric,” he muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the drawing.

“Eric,” you tasted his name on your lips quietly. It grated on him, the way you spoke as if you already knew him, already had him all figured out. “You’re an artist, huh? I bet you’re all dark and broody, right? The strong, silent type?”

His jaw tightened, his pencil pressing a little too hard against the paper. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him, but he could feel your words digging right under his skin. Dark and brooding? Strong and silent? You didn’t know anything about him, didnt understand the darkness that lingered in the corners of his mind, the weight of the silence he carried, yet here you were, already trying to pin him down with labels. And typically, Eric didn’t care what anyone else here labeled him with, but your unnervingly amicable voice was something he wasn’t used to. It was almost laughable, except it wasn’t. It was annoying. 

Your words struck a nerve. He remained quiet, instead choosing to focus on the shading in the corner of his page, tried to drown out the sound of your voice, but he knew his silence was betraying him. The tension in his jaw, the way his grip on the pencil tightened – it all gave him away, and he could almost feel you noticing it, filing it away for later. God, why couldn’t you just leave him alone? 

Then you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper for only his ears to hear. “You know, I think you want to get into trouble. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours before he could stop himself, his heart racing at the sudden intensity in your eyes. And there was something in your gaze that unsettled him. Annoyance flared up first, hot and defensive. But beneath that, he felt a flicker of . . . curiosity. And he hated that too – hated that you were getting under his skin. What the hell did you even know about him? What gave you the right to pry into his life, his thoughts.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he retorted, his voice sharper than he intended, the words escaping in a rush of defensiveness. 

You shrugged, unbothered by his tone, a playful smile tugging on your lips. “Maybe not yet, but I’m good at figuring people out. And I think you’re bored out of your mind here, just like me. You’re dying for something – anything – to happen.”

Eric shook his head, forcing himself to look back down at his sketch. “You’re wrong.” 

Even to his own ears, the denial sounded weak, and that only served to deepen his irritation. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, stretching your arms overhead, and Eric resisted the urge to glance up. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. I’m always up for a little fun.”

“Fun,” he echoed, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn’t even sure why he bothered to respond, but something about your persistence was unraveling him bit by bit. “That's what got us in here in the first place. 

You paused, and for a second, Eric thought maybe he had finally shut you up. He looked up and caught a flicker of something else in your expression, something serious that made his chest tighten with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. But just like that, it was gone, replaced by that infuriating grin. 

“Maybe,” you said, your voice softer, thoughtful in a way that made him uneasy. “But maybe that’s what will get us out of here too.”

Eric watched as you slid off the table, landing lightly on the ground. For a moment, he thought you might actually leave him alone, and the relief that washed over him was sweet. But then you turned back, hands stuffed into the pocket of that oversized sweatshirt, your grin still in place – though it didn’t seem to reach your eyes quite the same as before. 

“See you around, Eric,” you said before sauntering off, as if you didn’t just turn his whole world upside down in a matter of a few minutes. 

He stared after you, watching as you kicked at the feet of another unsuspecting patient who grumbled at you as you passed. His mind raced, his drawing forgotten, the lines and shadows now blurring together in an indistinct mess. He hated how you so easily managed to disrupt his carefully-constructed isolation, how you made him think about things he thought he’d buried a long time ago. He wanted to believe you were just another reckless newbie, just another faceless patient in a sea of addicts who would burn out soon enough. But something in the pit of his gut told him you were different – something he couldn’t shake. 

In the silence that followed your departure, Eric was left to grapple with the realization that the trouble you brought was not just a disruption, but a catalyst for change, a challenge to his solitude. And now as he returned to his meaningless drawing, he wondered briefly if perhaps your indelible, chaotic presence was exactly what he needed to rewrite his own story in the hell hole. 

And that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

Tagging some of you who seemed interested!

@apolloanddaphnis @one-of-thewalkingdead @m00npjm @maimai-0603 @redwitchbitch1 @at-midnight @fandom-fanatix @spoiled-bat13 @alinahdee @mrsalwayswrite

[distantdarlings]

NO ONE LIKE YOU // t. riddle

RATING: R / 2.1K WORDS

Tom Riddle x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* (Thank you to @orphicmortala for the request!) After having a very difficult meeting with his followers, Tom decides to take some frustrations out on you. He ends up getting a little too enthusiastic. (Smut, Angst)

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (For the first part), piv - no protection, hair pulling, oral - m!receiving, mention of blood, Tom is kind of mean, rough sex, (very slight) pain play, dom!Tom, Reader eventually uses safe word, language, not fully proofread, fem reader (lmk if I missed anything)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Animal - Troye Sivan

- - -

The final light of day flashed through the Head Boy’s dorm room. It cast a honeyed glow around you for only a moment before pitching the whole world into blackness. When the sun disappeared behind the mountains along the edge of Hogwarts, it was always a very quick descent to dark. It wasn’t very gradient, just sudden.

Almost as soon as the light had dissipated, the door flew open, nearly hitting the stone wall behind it. You shot up from the bed you were lounging on. A chilled wind blew in from the hallway, sending wild flickers through the fire in the corner.

“Tom,” you breathed.

The man in question stood in the doorway, fuming silently. His jaw was clenched and ticking, his eyes dark and frenzied. You swallowed thickly at the animalistic energy pouring off of his body. What had happened?

He slammed the door shut behind him, a slight flinch shocking through your body at the loud sound. He stomped across the room, barely paying you any mind. He came to a stop in front of the blazing fireplace. His hands began roughly ripping some papers. You got to your feet.

“Tom?” you called gently, waltzing over to him. Your hands reached out to press a comforting touch to him when he turned abruptly.

“What?” he growled. You stepped back, dropping your hands immediately. He had never looked at you like this before. The fire in his eyes nearly reflected the blaze within the stone in front of you.

“I–I’m sorry, I was just…”

“Darling, I’m sorry,” he sighs, blowing air through his nose. “It’s been a rough day.”

“What happened?” you asked, stepping closer to him again. You wanted to comfort him. A small groan leaves him as he tosses the remains of the shredded papers into the flames. Your eyes flickered to the fiery confetti, wondering what it once had been.

“What was that?” you ask, finally coming to place your hands on his shoulders.

“Nothing, do not worry yourself with matters of the Knights,” he whispered.

“What can I do to help?” you ask, staring up at him with such quiet adoration. His eyes found yours, basking in the innocence pooled within them. He could hardly bear to see you so concerned with him, especially when his anger came from such a vile source. Those pathetic boys tried to impress him by insisting they’d found new information for him and presented it before the whole group. They’d laid out more information of his lowly bringing-up, discussing new details about his mother they may have found.

He’d slammed his fists on the table, demanding to know why they’d been looking into his family history. They had immediately snapped their jaws shut, unsure how to respond. Perhaps they’d thought he’d be happy with them for finding more information on his parents. He couldn’t care any less about his worthless parents. All he cared about was his plans. He thought that had been obvious, but apparently, these boys had thought otherwise. He was in a mind to completely expel them from the group and obliviate them.

“My love,” he whispered, placing a gentle but firm hand beneath her jaw. He’d never loved, and he never would. You knew this well and accepted it for what it was—you and Tom weren’t ‘dating,’ but he was yours, and you were his. It wasn’t necessarily love, but it was in your own way. You couldn’t really explain it, but you both felt it.

“I need you, darling,” he whispered against your ear, placing his lips to the skin there. You felt the electricity humming beneath his flesh. Your lips shuddered a bit in anticipation. You nodded, accepting him into you.

That was all he needed to roughly grab your face and press hot, fast kisses to you. He satiated his every need against your tongue, taking what he wanted. You sighed against his lips, feeling the way he shattered you and held you together.

He walked you back to his bed and let you fall down against it. He kept you pinned beneath his weight, his hands hungry and wanting. They gripped and spared you, leaving hard, peppered bruises in their wake. He was always rough with you, fucking and biting and choking. He didn’t make love, and you didn’t want him to. You’d come to him for the dark passion he exuded through his body. If you’d wanted something gentle, you’d have looked around Hufflepuff. That wasn’t an insult to your house, of course. You just knew exactly what you wanted.

His hands came up to rip the front of your shirt open, ignoring the way a button or two flung across the room. He’d get you a new shirt later. A low groan sounded in his throat as his fingers tightened around your breasts, kneading them with his long, deft fingers. He placed his face against your chest, inhaling deeply and pressing painful bruises on you. You whined at the feeling, beckoning him away from your pained skin.

“Shut up. I’ll do what I want,” he growled, continuing to mark you as painfully as before. His sharp teeth seared into your flesh, pulling blood to the surface and occasionally past it. When he finally pulled away, a small drop of bloodied saliva dripped from his lips as if in slow motion. You sighed at the visual, the heat beginning to pool rapidly between your legs.

He crawled up your body, quickly unbuckling and pushing his belt through the loops in his trousers. When it was free, he slid the button through its slit and shoved his pants down to his knees. He dropped his bottoms and released himself against his stomach. The hot skin was reddened and beating with his heart. You gasped at the sight, wanting to feel him within you so desperately.

“You know what to do,” he groaned. He curled fingers into your hair, roughly shoving your face toward him. You glanced up at him through your eyelashes, watching as he panted in anticipation. His pupils were blown wide, and his lips were parted, a hint of your blood still tattooed over his perfectly white teeth. Fuck, he looked gorgeous.

As your tongue came forth to swipe over his length as slowly as he’d allow you to, you realized you wouldn’t be finishing with him anytime soon. He intended to go as far as you could and then some. The anger built up in his chest was enough for seven men, and he loved nothing more than taking it out on you.

“Ah, you perfect fucking girl,” he groaned as you took him completely into your mouth. Despite his size, you did your best to push him to the very back of your throat, allowing him to caress you in places you’d never been touched before. His hands were tight against your scalp, forcing you to stay completely still as he bucked his hips into you. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but the feeling of being able to please him had you staying planted in place.

“You always take me so well,” he sighed, head angled toward the ceiling. Your thighs pressed so tightly together you thought they might combust. He was so perfect. “No one like you, no one like you, no one like you…” He mumbled endlessly, pushing those words into your brain.

You wanted him so badly—all you could think about was him. All you could see, smell, hear, taste was him. He surrounded you, forcing you to take him in every way you could. Every sense was blinded by him. And that was just how he liked you—drowning in him.

He pulled you from him before he could finish. He wanted to finish within you, just as he always did. You knew him well enough to turn yourself around and ready yourself to accept him. He tended to follow a bit of a pattern when fucking you, one you’d started to catch on to. He never had to ask you for anything anymore; you just did it.

He flipped your skirt over your ass, revealing the lack of bottoms beneath. Another groan left his lips as he placed his fingers over you, working every part of you apart like clockwork. He moved you open, lathering you in your arousal, marking your insides with his claim.

When he removed his hand from you and placed both of them on your hips, you bit your arm, preparing for him to split you down the middle. No matter how often the two of you had sex, you seemed to never adjust to his size. He always had to move as slowly as he could to work you apart gently. Perhaps you were a bit more sensitive down there than others, but he was always patient. Except for today, it seemed.

With little more than a brief hesitation at the start, he slid himself into you all in one go. A strangled gasp left you at the feeling. He wasted no time beginning to pound himself into you. He cared nothing of the pathetic whines and screams coming from your lips. Your hands white-knuckled the sheets as you begged him to slow down, to be gentler, anything. He didn’t fucking care. He wrapped a hand into your hair, using it as a bit of leverage. He was going to take out every bit of pent-up frustration on this tight cunt.

“Fuck, Slytherin!” you shrieked, the tears beginning to roll down your cheeks. He stopped immediately, his hips halting inside you. As if he was in a daze, Tom blinked rapidly and shook his head a bit. It felt as though he had been under a spell, the way he had been fucking into you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered. He gently pulled himself out of you, a pitiful whine leaving your lips. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Hearing him say those words alone was enough to convince him how serious the situation was. Tom didn’t say sorry unless it was to a professor or to generally get someone off of his back. Usually, it was fake. This time, it wasn’t, and it rushed out of his lips before he could stop it.

He gently wrapped himself around you, slowly turning you and laying you back against his pillows. He kicked his pants down the rest of his legs and slipped the both of you beneath his comforter.

The cool green satin pressed softly against your hot skin, softly soothing it. He laid himself down behind you, his soft breath barely tickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Hesitantly, his hand slid over your stomach. It seemed as though he wasn’t sure exactly how to comfort you, but was trying his best.

“Darling?” he whispered against your back.

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“Don’t ever apologize to me,” he said. “I’m sorry that I…I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.”

A soft sigh left you. You’d never had to use your safe word with Tom before—had never even wanted to. Every aspect of the way Tom fucked had always intrigued you. The ways he handled you as if you were nothing to him but an outlet for his pleasure, the way he insisted on doing everything, the way he was genuinely concerned about your pleasure, despite himself. It often left you breathless.

Tonight, however, had been different. You felt less than you usually did when beneath him. Usually it was a nice feeling; like you were smaller, something for him to take care of. But tonight you’d felt pure hatred coursing through his body. You were scared that it was directed toward you.

“It’s not that, Tom,” you sighed. “I was worried that you were angry with me.”

His hands gently wrapped around you and helped you to turn toward him. His eyes watched you sternly. He wanted to put any affection that had built up inside him completely into you.

“I have never been angry with you—I was angry with my worthless fucking followers, always insisting they ruin my life in the most embarrassing ways possible.”

“Why would they do that?” You gasped, shocked that they’d even think of doing such a thing.

“They think that they’re helping or something,” he scoffed, jaw clenching. You could feel the anger radiating off of him.

“I’m so sorry,” you sigh, slipping your eyes shut. “I hope I didn’t upset you further—it was just a bit too much, I suppose.”

He nods understandingly, saying nothing more. The quiet and safety you felt when with Tom had you falling into a particularly deep sleep. Though you tried to fight it off, you could feel Tom’s eyes on you, watching as you slowly drifted off.

The last thing you remembered before slipping fully into sleep was Tom’s hand gently against your cheek, his cold thumb caressing a hair away from your face.

*Tag List: @lilymurphy03, @mypolicemanharryyy, @angelfrombeneth, @clairesjointshurt (if you would like to be added to the tag list, please comment on this post, send me a dm, or message in my inbox. Thanks!)

[afsosville]

You know what would've been nice? Shen Jiu ending up on a different peak that's actually good for him. Maybe Qian Cao, or the beast taming peak could've been hella therapeutic. Or the alcohol/brewery peak to drown away all his sorrows. But what if he stayed fucked up, in a way that's actually good and productive for society? Yeah, I wanna toss him over to Yin Hui and let him run wild! I've seen many iterations of Yin Hui, the fanon peak for espionage and poisons in fanfics. By extension, Yin Hui is also covertly the assassination peak, and I wish this peak got more attention around here tbh. Why do I think this peak is the most well suited for Shen Jiu? BECAUSE ASSASSINS. Duh.

So here comes a baby demonic cultivator Shen Jiu and the Yin Hui peak lord immediately wants him. Shen Jiu would be more readily accepted by his peak martial siblings, and no one would bat an eye at Shen Jiu, his standoffish personality or shady past. A lot of Yin Hui disciples are from questionable backgrounds since the Yin Hui peak lord naturally has to be very particular about selecting their disciples. Yin Hui was established to protect the sect and its people by any means necessary. Sure, the rest of the sect may fight against the supernatural, demons, and the undead, but Yin Hui fights an even greater monster: people.

The Yin Hui peak lord manipulated things so that the first impression the rest of the sect has about Shen Jiu is 'that new badass Yin Hui disciple that killed the criminal Wu Yanzi and saved the future sect leader!' (Seeing as Wu Yanzi would be the very sort of ppl they assassinate, he's already getting goated on Yin Hui too.) So Shen Jiu is known as that new prodigious disciple from Yin Hui and is getting some goddamn respect! And just because of his association with his peak, fewer people are inclined to question his background and whatnot since there's an understanding that the identity of the YH disciples needs to be heavily guarded. The Yin Hui peak lord finds out about the Qiu's soon enough, and they erase any and all traces leading back to Shen Jiu. Even framing it in a way that makes it look like WY did the massacre. Any credibility Qiu Haitang could've had for Shen Jiu's murder accusations is thrown out the window. (Ain’t no way in hell the Yin Hui peak lord is going to name SJ that stupid trauma inducing name like a certain Qing Jing peak lord, that's for sure.)

I'm pulling in elements from MDZS over here. In my version of Yin Hui, they have disciples who practice demonic cultivation, but they make sure it's in a safer way that won't hurt them. There's a surprising number of disciples who have damaged cultivation and chose to cultivate the ghost path. The previous generations of Yin Hui peak lords have created Wei Wuxian's inventions in this AU, and is used by the rest of the peak, like the compass of ill winds, paper metamorphosis, the spirit attraction flag, and empathy. I lowkey want a Wei Wuxian that's native to SV to be the Yin Hui peak lord, now that I think about it. He's good with his kiddos and would be an awesome shizun. And ofc, Shen Jiu is a reflection of his environment, so he's certainly making an example out of Wei Wuxian, one of the only positive influences in his life.

Shen Jiu still has his violent tendencies, so nothing has changed about that, but he learns to take that pent-up energy out on missions instead. And he does them well. It even gives him an edge. Everyone else thinks he's just reallyyy good at his job, as expected of the talented head disciple of Yin Hui!!

He really does try his best to not be an ass (bc he gets the love he deserves on Yin Hui) and ends up venting in a different way (coz he knows better than to take it out on people who don’t deserve it.) His shizun really gave him the free reign to kill sl@ve trad3rs, human tr@ffick3rs, r-ists, and other scum whenever he wanted, in the name of stress relief lol. If killing a particular person becomes politically complicated, like the Old Palace Bastard, then you best believe he's going to scheme like the little schemer he is. He's going to Nie Huaisang the OPM.

Since Shen Jiu is not salty about his fucked up cultivation, and his martial siblings respect him, they get along just fine. His cultivation is some parts similar to Wei Wuxian's: Shen Jiu is a ghost cultivator influenced by music. Sure, he may not be that great of a spiritual cultivator, so what? He's pulling up like the Yiling Patriarch with his demonic cultivation and a haunted guqin of his own.

And guess what? Shen Jiu enjoys teaching. He's training miniature assassins, spies, and the art of demonic cultivation, so forgive him if he's more than a little enthusiastic about it. I imagine that he's exactly like Shifu from kung fu panda when it comes to teaching. Still extremely harsh and strict when training, but outside of actually teaching, he's an attentive and caring shizun. And yes, he completely does act like a father figure who is proud of his murder babies, and ends up being called A-Ba so much that all of Cang Qiong thinks he's officially adopted every single one of his disciples. (After being saved by SJ on a mission, NYY persistently begs SJ to take her in even though he desperately thinks Yin Hui isn't a good fit for her. And then, after being under him for a while, she's completed her first mission successfully, has smn else's blood on her face, and is smiling brightly. 

Ning Yingying: "I completed my mission shizun! Are you proud of me?"

Shen Jiu: "..."

Some other peaklord: "Haha like father like daughter! She's definitely your girl alright!"

Shen Jiu: "...!?!" )

Yue Qingyuan is conerneth about his Xiao Jiu, but as long as he's happy, who cares. Shen Jiu has a better relationship with the other peak lords, so when asked about why he visits brothels, he straight up tells them that it's the best place to gather information in the dark. He doesn't have that mentality of "why explain myself when no ones finna believe me anyway" He actually trusts them and is more honest with time. Shen Jiu does come clean about killing the Qiu's at some point, and the peak lords are all like-

"I didn't hear shit"

"See, I'm blind in my left eye, and 75% blind in my right-"

"Completely understandable, Shen shidi!"

They don't even ask why he did it and just assume he had a valid reason, and he absolutely fucking did.

Oh, Shen Jiu gets accused of playing dirty? Liu Qingge, he literally kills ppl and makes poison as a daytime fucking job ofc he's gonna play dirty! Shen Jiu tried killing you that one time on the well mission? Bro you good? The fact that you think he tried to kill you and failed?? You just insulted an entire peak of disciples and their ancestors. You would've been dead before you could even think of sensing their killing intent if it were true. And there was a witness too, doofus. Be fucking for real. Nahh coz there definitely would be more people who are taking Shen Jiu's side whenever the two of them fight.

Shen Jiu uses a shit ton of versatile weapons because most of his fighting and cultivation prowess comes from his wits and adapting to fighting with different styles/methods. He is kinda similar to Xie Lian bc both of them lack spiritual energy/qi (damaged spirit roots in Shen Jiu's case), but that does not mean they are weaker. It just means they learned to train their body and minds instead of relying on cultivation/qi. He has a massive arsenal of weapons along with the demonic cultivation. (Airport security would hate him)

Yin Hui has got to be my favorite fanon peak, and Yin Hui! Shen Jiu plauges so many of my waking thoughts, I can't stop-

I can add elements from my other hyperfixation into this AU, the Avatar Chronicles. Which are the written books from ATLA. The criminal organization Kyoshi joined, the Daofei, for example, could be a good plot point. Or the Platinum Affair from the Yangchen books. If you don’t know what the Avatar Chronicles are, just ignore this last part lol.

[mullermilkshake]

Yandere Satoru Gojo

@ellavdrea

Yandere!Satoru Gojo x Reader MINORSDNI 🔞 = Tags: Yandere!Gojo, au with cursed energy, graphic depictions of violence and bodily harm, death, manipulation, physical/ psychological abuse.

Satoru had enough of your shit.

The countless obscenities and hits to his face as you thrashed around because your will simply refused to be compliant. He could take that. He did take that.

But what he couldn’t abide was your countless, albeit rare attempts to leave him.

Him. Like he was riddled with an infectious illness or something. Or perhaps he was just that unlikable that you couldn’t bare to be in the same room as him. Satoru was far more than just likeable, he could ask anyone and he’d get the answer he wanted.

He was amazing.

You just refused to see what was right in front of you because you were that stubborn.

“Get off of me!”

You pulled and tugged, clawing at the back of his hand that held so tight like you would vanish if he didn’t.

“Don’t fight this.” He said, fuming purely at the fact that this time, you almost made it impossible for him to find you. Like a mole underground who hung tight until the fox had passed.

Well, Satoru was more intelligent than a cunning fox, he was more of a blood hound and sniffing your scent drove him wild.

“I will fight this- trust me, I’ll get out again and you’ll never find me you son of a bitch!”

As clever as you thought you were, there was always a trail you left behind, no matter how faint. Whether it be a scrap of your cursed energy you didn’t know you had or just that Satoru happened to be in the right place and right time, he always found you.

It’s just that this time was a close call. And there wasn’t going to be a second chance for that to happen again.

Not ever.

Satoru yanked you close and noticed your strained wince immediately. “I’ve told you time and time again that this isn’t an option. But you never listen.”

Now Satoru couldn’t just leave you alone in the house even if he did essentially baby proof it ten times over to prevent you stepping a foot outside.

You’d find some weak point eventually like an octopus squeezing through a hole the size of its eye, you were just as slippery.

Some days he’d be out the whole day, his life still rolling over despite you waiting at home. The daily stressors of sorcerer life put his patience to a tether that almost severed with you regularly.

“I don’t listen because you’re fucking crazy-“

You managed to move your hand and swing for his face, though you knew just as well as Satoru did. His infinity around most of his body was never lowered.

Especially around you.

He didn’t react to it and pulled you down the hallway, the soles of your shoes squeaking on the wood which bellowed your temper toward him. Satoru didn’t have a temper as such, he could make you do whatever he wanted when the occasion called for it. However his strength out matched you like a bulldozer to a sheet of paper.

You were delicate and Satoru worked hard to control how much force he used so he didn’t end up doing permanent damage. But he held out in the hope that you would eventually want to do things with him without coercion or unnecessary force.

“You have no idea how shit filled the world is. You’d be begging to stay with me if you actually knew what was out there.”

To date, oddly enough you had never reacted to low level curses Satoru used to test just how much you knew about his own world.

You knew nothing, or you were an excellent liar. Either way, the only thing that was truly special about you was your cursed energy. The energy itself was unaware of its own presence.

It’s what drew him to you in the first place.

That was a year ago.

Since then it was all still a daily uphill battle.

“Bullshit would I- Satoru let me go!” Your shrill scream became raspy and broken like a tantrum from a child that compared to you acted far more mature.

So for Satoru’s own piece of mind, what you needed was a room with no windows and one door in and out.

Then he’d know where you were at all times.

Which translated to the basement.

And you hated the basement.

Though what choice did he have?

As soon as you knew where Satoru was taking you, the disgusted glare and gritted teeth switched for something far more upsetting.

“No. No, no, no, I’m not going down there!”

“You’re not giving me a choice.”

Standing in the doorway, Satoru took you by the shoulders and even pulled his blindfold down to show how serious he was. “You fight me every step of the way when I’m only trying to do well by you. There’s so much shit out there and you don’t even know how bad things can get.”

You said nothing, but your eyes were so wide they were watering. Satoru took this as a chance to continue. “I love you. And you don’t see it. I care for you, and you don’t see it. I only want what’s best for you and you don’t fucking see it.”

“And shoving me down in the basement is what’s best for me?”

Was it rhetorical? Satoru didn’t care. “Yes. It is.”

There was no way to protect yourself when you couldn’t see curses. Especially with the odd cursed energy you were emitting.

And if Suguru got a hold of you, Satoru dreaded to think.

And then as though a switch turned you back on, you struggled again. “I’m not going down there!”

“Yes you are.” He had to be careful not to hurt you.

“Fuck you!”

“You’re going down there. End of- be careful on the stairs or you’ll fall-“

“I hope I do-“

“Don’t say that.” His voice was so gruff, almost angry. You were trying his patience way too much saying things like that.

“I hope I fall and break my neck then I wouldn’t have to deal with you-“

“I said stop it… stop-“

You lost your footing, whether it was intentional, Satoru couldn’t gauge it and in his profound shock, he didn’t react in time to catch you. He watched you in slow motion and then time sped up, your pretty little neck hit every step in the way down into the dark pit of the basement void.

He blinked and registered. Moving in a blink to capture you in his arms by the third step from the bottom.

“Hey.”

You were limp, eyes closed. Your cursed energy bubbling beyond the surface like a boiling pot, nothing unusual only that you weren’t breathing.

“Wait… wake up.” He said, shaking you ever so slightly. “Wake up right now.”

It was as though you were joking, playing a game with him to get what you wanted and scare the living daylights out of him.

“Wake up right now!”

This time he shook you, teeth gritted hard together and your shattered neck jiggled your head about with his movement. Your slender neck just that little bit longer when he realised is was really broken and this wasn’t a joke of yours.

“No… wake up now.” He could’t heal you, only Shoko could do that.

Was it too late? Had death already consumed you that you would refuse to come back?

“Please… don’t leave.” His breaths were heavy, cumbersome.

And you were just lifeless.

Then, you weren’t.

It was your cursed energy that Satoru recognised, wisping about your body almost like it was weaving together. And then you twitched again, then jolted about in Satoru’s arms until you screamed right by his ear so guttural and primal that it even drew his head back from you.

Yet still he kept a hold of you, eyes wider than they had ever been and in shock at your reanimation.

Until now, Satoru had never seen anything like it. Suguru would most definitely dig his claws into you so deep if he realised just how special you had become in just a matter of seconds. A matter of seconds and everything had just changed. Your need for protection and risk factors had risen exponentially.

Satoru was sure you were still human too and not like the undead he had seen in movies. You were still… you, from what he could tell.

You huffed and heaved and coughed against him, opening your eyes with such panic took Satoru’s breath away from his chest as he held it. The fabric of his shirt squeezed between the joints of your fingers as though you would never let go.

Like you needed him.

You actually needed him.

“Hey- wait it’s alright. I’ve got you.” Satoru held you close and for just a minute, you leant into him and sobbed.

“I’m here, baby.”

Satoru shouldn’t have said that. You glared up at him with a face full of thunder, pushing away from him in an instant. “You fucking pushed me, you monster!”

He initially blinked at your sudden furious gaze, but got a hold of your wrists quick enough before you could through them around.

“I didn’t push you. You slipped-“

“Like hell I did- how am I even talking right now? You pushed me and it hurt!”

How on earth was your cursed energy so volatile that it repaired you without your say on reverse curse technique? You healed yourself at an exceptional rate and were none the wiser to it.

“I didn’t push you, do you hear me?” Taking you by the shoulders seemed to stop the messy haze you were in. “I would never do that.”

But this incident got you clinging to him like he was your favourite person in the world, even if it was just for a minute.

One minute was more time than you had bothered to give Satoru. Ever.

That minute alone would have been enough to get him by for the next few hours before he would want it again, going down a slippery slope he had inevitably opened without realising.

Your voice was broken. “You did- you did do it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Get away from me!”

“I didn’t fucking push you.”

You really weren’t going to let go of this, were you? Even experiencing something as traumatic as you just did.

“Oh really? Then why did I see you just looking at me as I fell and you left me there unconscious!

You didn’t even know the extent of your injuries.

A little spark ignited in his head when he saw how distressed you were. Satoru could use this to his advantage. It was sick, but perhaps this was his way to put an end to your bratty attitude. That feral flame needed extinguishing.

“If you think that I would intentionally hurt you, then you don’t know me at all.”

Your anger shifted back to that of upset and distress, sobbing over your words and gripping a hold of his shirt more aggressively.

“I don’t, that’s the point. I-I don’t want to know you and I don’t want to be here. I want to go home and have a normal life without you lurking around every corner and breathing down my neck all the time!”

This wasn’t unexpected news to Satoru, yet it hurt just as much as if it was. Were you really that repulsed by his presence? Satoru found himself questioning everything and that little poisonous thought burrowed deeper into his brain like a parasite.

If you were unaware then it could be used against you. ‘I wouldn’t ever do that…’ those words held less meaning than when they were spoken aloud.

And if you were to fall down those stairs again, it was entirely logical that you would look at Satoru that way again and sob into his chest.

“Get up.” He said, his expression dropping to numb his horrid thoughts.

Everything had changed. Everything had gotten far darker than he even could have imagined. Your eyes were wide, almost deer like with anticipation of his response.

“Get up.” Satoru softened his tone and it seemingly worked enough to allow you to your feet. So there was no issue with your joints either after taking damage from the impact.

Satoru took to the steps first and waited. Waited until you reached the top behind him all timid and silent.

Then he pushed you.

Your body hitting each step like before and your cursed energy working its way around the body and clicked everything back into place.

He wondered what else your body could take and whether he really had to hold back and be gentle with you anymore.

After that, each time you reanimated, you clung to Satoru just that fraction longer. Every time a slither of your will broke and soon enough, you would be compliant enough to have the privilege of being left on your own again.

In time.

EDIT: ALSO forgot to add, if you’d like anymore Yandere Satoru Gojo or other characters please check out my AO3 where I post all my long stuff and one shots like “sealed fate” which is exclusively Yandere/ dark one shots.

Take care!!

[notsosweetchan]

Warning: smut (Minors Do Not Interact)

Paring-Hyunjin x reader-

-Dirty Secret (Teacher AU)

Hyunjin couldn't help but feel a blush crawl up his cheeks as he glanced over the chalkboard, taking a deep breath to calm himself before continuing his lecture. His gaze found the wayward one, making sure to maintain eye contact with her.

She gave him an innocent smile, batting her eyelashes as if nothing was out of the ordinary - but he knew better. Her fingers were restlessly toying with her pen, tapping against it in a way that was all too familiar to him now.

It was hard to ignore the nervous energy radiating off of her, and he couldn't help but wonder what mischief she was planning next.

As he droned on about trigonometry, his eyes drifted back towards her again and again, unable to help themselves.

He watched as she playfully bit on her lower lip while furiously scribbling notes down in her notebook; could almost taste the sweet cherry flavor from where he sat.

The sound of chalk scratching against the board was drowned out by the soft rustling of paper as she flipped through pages and scratched away at words in bright pink ink that matched her cherry lip color perfectly.

Even when she furrowed her brows in concentration or chewed on the end of her pencil thoughtfully, there was an undeniable glimmer in those emerald eyes that betrayed any semblance of focus on the subject matter.

Amidst his lecture, a moment came where Hyunjin paused for emphasis; an opening for Y/to strike. "And that," he said grandly, pointing at an equation on the board behind him, "is how you use trigonometry to calculate angles."

The room full of students went silent for a moment before bursting into chatter once more, but Y/N's heart leaped at the pause in Hyunjin's lecture, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. She had been waiting for this moment.

She glanced up at him from under her lashes, feeling her stomach do flips as their eyes locked. He looked so handsome standing there, chalk dusting his suit but still managing to look put together and professional.

She couldn't help but compare him to the mess she was in; her hair was probably a wild nest on top of her head, strands escaping every which way after the impromptu make-out session earlier. Her cheeks were still flushed pink and her lips felt swollen from their kisses.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, breaking their gaze. Y/N took the opportunity to quickly scribble down some notes before looking back up at him, hoping he wouldn't catch on to her thoughts. The anticipation was killing her as he continued speaking, his voice low yet commanding in the quiet classroom.

His hands moved gracefully on the chalkboard as he drew triangles and circles, their soft scratching sound filling the air like music to her ears. She found herself tracing along with his movements, wishing she could feel the chalk between her fingers instead of just imagining it.

Suddenly, he wrote down an equation that she knew she wouldn't be able to solve alone - not without some guidance from him anyway - and she raised her hand hesitantly.

The sound of chalk on board stopped abruptly as he turned to face her, those deep brown eyes boring into hers. "Yes?" He asked softly. Y/N took a deep breath and shot him a shy smile before pointing at the board. "I don't quite understand this part," she admitted with a small laugh,

"Oh really?" Hyunjin smirked, walking over to her desk with a swish of his pants and a soft clearing of his throat. He leaned down over her shoulder, his breath tickling her neck as he peered over her shoulder at the board.

The warmth of his body against hers sent shivers down her spine, making it harder for her to concentrate on the equation. "Let me show you," he murmured softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils and made him dizzy with desire. His fingers traced the lines of the equation slowly, explaining it to her in a low voice that only she could hear.

As he went on, he couldn't help but brush against her knuckles or graze the inside of her wrist with his thumb in the guise of pointing things out.

His heart raced just as fast as hers did when their skin touched, sending electric currents shooting up his arm and down hers.

She gasped softly as he lifted his hand away from her skin, their connection broken only by the thin air between them.

Hyunjin chuckled lightly and stepped back, holding himself upright again while continuing to explain the lesson around them.

The rest of the classroom fell silent once more; every eye on them as they watched this exchange – some with envy, others with confusion - but none daring to interrupt them again.

Y/N felt herself blush deeper under their stares but couldn't bring herself to look away from him; those eyes held hers captive like no other could.

Hyunjin couldn't help but feel a wave of satisfaction wash over him as he saw the understanding dawn on her face.

He smiled gently at her, noticing the way her cherry-flavored breaths quickened as he leaned down to whisper the explanation into her ear. The softness of her skin beneath his fingertips sent shivers down his spine, reminding him of the allure and the temptation that lingered between them.

"Of course," he said, stepping back with a smirk on his lips. "Just remember this formula. It's important," he added as an afterthought before glancing around the room once more to make sure everyone was focused again.

The students in the back row whispered among themselves while giggling softly, their eyes flickering between Y/N's flushed cheeks and Hyunjin's satisfied smirk.

His words echoed through the classroom, causing butterflies in Y/N's stomach as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying instead of how close he had been to her just moments before.

As Hyunjin continued his lecture, moving around the room to assist other students who raised their hands, Y/N found herself lost in thought– dreams swirling through her mind along with images of those captivating brown eyes and that gentle touch from earlier.

She couldn't shake off the feeling of anticipation for when class would finally end so they could be alone again. Her fingers tapped restlessly against her desk while she scribbled down notes faster than usual, eager for that moment to come soon enough.

The hour flew by quickly, ending far too soon for both their tastes "Alright class," Hyunjin said, clapping his hands together to gather the students' attention.

“That's all for today. Remember to study hard and ask me or any teaching assistant if you have any questions." The students packed their bags and chatted quietly before leaving the room, but Y/N remained in her seat.

She watched as Hyunjin tidied up the classroom, erasing the equations from the chalkboard with practiced efficiency. “ Don’t you think you were being a bit obvious back there?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he turned to face her.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm at his comment, realizing that perhaps she had been a bit too transparent in her feelings towards him. She mustered up her courage and rose from her seat, gathering her things as she walked towards him.

Maybe a little,she admitted with a shy smile, feeling a rush of boldness surge through her. “But can you blame me? You make trigonometry almost bearable.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but Hyunjin heard her loud and clear. He chuckled softly, the sound sending pleasant shivers down Y/N’s spine.

“Well, I suppose I can forgive you for that,” he teased, his eyes locking with hers in a way that made her heart flutter. “But you better be careful.

People might start putting two and two together and realizing there's more to our teacher and student dynamic than meets the eye.” His voice lowered, and he took a step closer, his gaze intense as he continued, “Unless... of course, you want them to know.”

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, each word he spoke adding fuel to the fire that burned inside her. Y/N felt her breath hitch at his insinuation, her mind racing with the possibilities of what could happen if they crossed that line.

She met his gaze head-on, a mixture of desire and apprehension swirling in her eyes.

“Maybe I do want them to know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the empty classroom.

The confession hung in the air between them, heavy with implications. Hyunjin's expression softened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes before he took another step closer, closing the distance between them.

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over her lips as he leaned in, leaving no room for doubt in his intentions.

The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with desire as they stood inches apart. Y/N's heart raced in her chest, her breath hitching at the proximity of Hyunjin's lips to hers. Every fiber of her being yearned for his touch, for the forbidden thrill of crossing that line with her teacher.

Without another word, Hyunjin closed the final gap between them, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss that sent a shockwave of electricity through her body. Y/N melted into his embrace, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as she deepened the kiss, matching his fervor with her own.

Y/N moaned softly against his lips, feeling the warmth of his mouth against hers. Her body trembled slightly, and she gripped the fabric of his shirt as a deep longing coursed through her veins. As their kiss deepened, time seemed to stand still.

Their tongues danced together, exploring each other's mouths in a way that felt illicit but oh-so-right. Breath mingled with the chalky scent of the classroom, creating an aroma unique to this moment.

Her heart raced wildly as his hands found their way to her waist before slinking upwards to cup her breast through her shirt. She gasped into his mouth, feeling his touch send shockwaves of pleasure down her spine.

Hyunjin couldn't help but let out a low groan, losing himself in the moment. He admired how she bit her lower lip teasingly, matching his boldness with her own growing confidence. He nipped at it playfully before trailing kisses down her neck and collarbone.

The sound of buttons popping loose echoed in the empty room as he undid them one by one until he could finally touch bare skin. His lips trailed lower, finding cherry-flavored sweetness with every new inch he explored.

His hands moved up her thighs Y/N's core clenched at his touch, and she gasped softly, her body begging for more. His hands slid up her skirt, finding the elastic of her panties, and she whimpered into his mouth.

It was intoxicating to be desired like this; to feel his fingers against her skin made her head spin. He pulled away from their kiss picking her up and placing her on his desk with a smirk, leaving her legs dangling over the edge.

Hyunjin kneeled between them and slowly pulled down her panties, revealing her wetness to him. His eyes widened at the sight before him, and he couldn't help but groan in frustration.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with desire. Y/N smiled, tilting her head back as she felt him gently kiss her inner thigh, making his way closer to her core.

Her breathing became shallower, anticipation building inside her as she waited for what was to come. Hyunjin slowly licked her wetness, tasting her for the first time.

Y/N moaned softly, Arching her back slightly as he pleasured her with his tongue. Each lick, each suction, was sending waves of pleasure through her body, making her heart pound in her chest.

Hyunjin's soft touch sent shivers down Y/N's spine as his tongue found her folds, exploring her in a way that made her toes curl.

His fingers danced softly across her clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her. She gasped and arched into his touch, her back bowing off the desk as he teased her. "Oh god," she moaned, her voice trembling with desire.

His lips parted and he took her entrance between his lips, sucking gently as he buried his face in her wet heat. Y/N cried out softly, her hands fisting in his hair as her hips bucked in rhythm to his skilled tongue.

He loved the sound of her moans, the way her body responded to his touch, and he knew that he wanted more. He wanted to feel her beneath him, inside her, to make her scream his name in pleasure.

Y/N's climax was building within her, her entire body tensing as her orgasm approached. She could feel it pulsing through her, making her heart race and her breath come in gasps.

Her body was shaking, on the verge of collapsing in a wave of pleasure that she knew would leave her weak and vulnerable. She knew that she had to release it, to let go and surrender to the sensation that was building within her.

Hyunjin could sense it too, the way her body was trembling and the soft whimpers that escaped her lips. He gently sucked on her clit, feeling the pulsing throb of her desire as she came, milking it softly.

Y/N's cries of pleasure echoed through the empty classroom, each one making him harder. Hyunjin looked up at her in ecstasy, his own arousal evident as he admired her flushed face and trembling body.

He pulled his lips away from her core, and she whimpered in protest. "Shh," he whispered soothingly, pushing himself up from the desk and removing his tie and loosening his belt.

"I want to feel you wrapped around me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

Y/N could barely breathe as she watched him unbutton his shirt, her breaths coming in short, needy gasps.

Her eyes locked onto the bulge that pressed against his pants, and she knew they wouldn't be the only ones coming undone tonight.

Hyunjin stepped closer to her, and she could feel the heat emanating from his body. Y/N watched him, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for what was to come.

He stood between her legs, guiding himself inside her slowly, slowly until he was fully buried within her. She gasped, her head falling back as he filled her completely.

"You feel so good," he groaned, holding back the urge to thrust hard into her. He wanted to savor this moment, to feel her tight warmth surrounding him.

Y/N wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, and he began to move slowly, steadily at first, building up a rhythm. His hips rocked into her, and she moaned softly, her body adjusting to his.

Y/N's eyes locked onto his, and she could see the raw desire in them. They were both lost in this moment, in each other. Hyunjin's gaze never left hers as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and more forceful.

Y/N's breath hitched with each powerful stroke, her body responding to his with a fiery need that surprised her. She moaned softly, her fingers digging into his back as he moved inside her.

Hyunjin's eyes never left hers, a mixture of lust and adoration reflected in their depths. “Hyunjin , please…” the breathless plea was all he needed. He increased the tempo, his body slamming into hers with a raw intensity that had her crying out in pleasure.

Her head thrashed from side to side, her lips parted in a silent scream as his hips moved faster, harder. He could feel his own release building, the tension within him coiling tighter with each thrust.

"I'm gonna come," he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. Y/N's eyes squeezed shut, her body convulsing with the same need.

Hyunjin grunted, slamming into her one last time before releasing himself, emptying himself inside her.

As his release spilled into her, Y/N felt a wave of pleasure wash over her, her body bucking against his one last time before collapsing back onto the desk.

She gasped for air, her heart pounding in her chest, her body still shaking from the intensity of the experience.Hyunjin's breath hitched as he struggled to catch his own breath,panting, his body still trembling from the release.

He gently pulled out of her, and she whimpered softly, feeling the emptiness left by his absence. He carefully lowered her back to the ground, his hands lingering on her skin for a moment longer before he cupped her face and brought his lips to hers.

Their tongues danced and twined together, their passion and satisfaction mingled in one last kiss.

Y/N broke away, her eyes wide with wonder as she looked up at him. "Hyunjin," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled at her, his eyes soft and full of love. "I know, Y/N." He replied, his voice filled with the same emotion. "I know."

[pandapetals]

Photo

Xavier shows you a photo of the X-Men from their younger days.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Xavier’s office was usually a place for quick meetings, somewhere you and Logan visited only for mission briefings or occasional check-ins. But today, while waiting for the Professor, you found yourself lingering, letting your eyes wander over the collection of old, leather-bound books and the intricate wood detailing that gave the room a cozy, timeless charm. It felt like stepping into a library from another era, filled with the scent of aged paper and polished oak.

"Admiring the place?" Xavier's warm voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him wheeling himself in with a small smile.

"Sorry, Professor," you said, slightly sheepish. "I didn’t mean to snoop."

He chuckled, waving a hand to dismiss your apology. "It’s quite all right. I must admit, it’s rare to have you in my office for longer than a moment."

You raised an eyebrow, curious. "What do you mean?"

Xavier’s smile grew, a fondness lighting up his face. "You’re a busy woman. And Logan… well, he seems rather determined to keep you occupied," he said with a soft laugh, his tone carrying a hint of mischief.

You laughed too, nodding. "He does have a habit of dragging me into all his projects. Says he’s teaching me ‘important skills,’" you replied, making air quotes with a smirk. "Last week it was ‘how to change the oil in a motorcycle,’ which turned out to be mostly him showing off while I handed him tools."

Xavier's expression softened, his eyes filled with a quiet pride. "You know," he began, his voice gentler now, "He was… rough around the edges when he first joined us. Lost, even. But you…" He paused, searching for the right words. "You’ve helped him find a part of himself he didn’t even realize he had."

A warmth blossomed in your chest at his words. "I think he’d say the same about all of you, Professor," you replied softly. "This place… the X-Men… you’re his family."

Xavier nodded, his gaze drifting to a framed photo on his desk. "We are, yes," he murmured, then reached over and picked up the frame, holding it out to you. "But it’s different now. I think you’ve made him realize he’s allowed to want more than that."

You took the frame, looking down at a photograph that seemed to capture a moment frozen in time. It was a group shot of the original X-Men—Jean, Scott, Ororo, Hank, and Xavier. They were all smiling, looking so much younger, full of energy and purpose. There, slightly to the side, arms crossed and brows furrowed was Logan. He looked much younger too, but even then, there was a touch of that familiar gruffness in his stance, a man who hadn’t quite found his place.

"He hasn’t changed much," you said softly, studying Logan’s face in the photo, taking in the wild hair and the faint scowl. "Still has that brooding intensity."

Xavier chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Indeed. Though I think he’d deny it if anyone pointed it out."

You handed the photo back to Xavier, your heart full as you thought about the man Logan had become and the quiet way he had opened himself to you over time. "Thank you for showing me this, Professor."

"It was my pleasure," he said, his voice warm. "And thank you, truly, for making him the man he was always meant to be."

Later that evening, you found Logan in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge with a half-hearted grumble about there never being enough beer. You leaned against the counter, watching him with a fond smile until he finally noticed and turned to look at you, one eyebrow raised.

"Why are you starin' at me like that?" he asked, his tone suspicious but amused.

You bit back a smirk, crossing your arms as you studied him, letting your gaze linger on the familiar lines of his face, his scruffy beard, the hair that always had a life of its own. "I was just thinking," you said, feigning an air of innocence. "Xavier showed me an old photo of the team today. You know, back when you all were young and fresh-faced."

Logan rolled his eyes, closing the fridge with a sigh. "Oh, here we go," he muttered, clearly bracing himself for whatever you were about to say.

"You had… quite the hairstyle," you teased, grinning. "Those wild sideburns, that brooding glare... Honestly, you looked like the cover of some 80s rock album. I half-expected to see a guitar slung over your shoulder."

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah. Real funny, sweetheart," he grumbled, though you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Didn’t realize I was signin' up to be mocked for my ‘youthful looks’ when I married you."

You laughed, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist. "Oh, I’m not complaining," you murmured, resting your head against his chest. "In fact, I think I would’ve fallen for you back then, too."

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking down at you with a skeptical smirk. "You? Fallin' for the cranky loner with bad hair? I don’t buy it."

You shrugged, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. "What can I say? I have a type," you teased. "Apparently, I’m a sucker for brooding, wild-haired men with a mysterious past."

He let out a soft chuckle, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer. "Well, lucky for me, then," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Guess I did somethin' right if I managed to get you to stick around."

You looked up at him, your hand finding his cheek, your thumb brushing over the familiar lines of his face. "You’re everything I could’ve ever wanted, Logan," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. "Sideburns and all."

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes, and you felt his hand slip into yours, squeezing gently. "Love you, darlin’," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: with things getting complicated, you and ken have a talk about the future of your relationship

content warning: mentions of sex, profanity and cursing

word count: 1.2k

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005: showing teeth

Sweaty, tangled mess of bodies. Deja vu. The two of you lay side by side, sprawled on your bed, comforter kicked off—it was too hot to touch. The ceiling fan spun circles above the two of you, with little fruition. Nothing was going to beat the summer heat.

“I read your little notebook,” Ken says, breaking the silence. “It’s some pretty heavy stuff.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“It’s just me. I’ve always found I wrote best when I was at my worst.”

“The tortured poets thing is true?”

You laugh.

“Maybe, I mean, I guess it just inspires me, y’know?”

He nods his head.

“I don’t think it’s true though, what you said in there,” he props himself up on his elbows, looking at you, his gray irises shining in the moonlight that seeped in through your window. “About being unfixable.”

You give him a sympathetic look.

“Thanks, but I guess being unfixable isn’t what scares me the most,” you bite your lip and fidget with your fingers, picking at the skin, “it’s being alone, I think—because that would just prove I’m unlovable.”

Ken reaches for you and presses a kiss onto your shoulder. His touch feels tender, his lips like the paper-thin wings of a butterfly. You want to ask him to do it again. You rub the spot where he kissed you in little circles.

“I don’t think you’re unlovable.” He says, in a whisper—almost like a prayer. You feel sucked into his gaze—like his eyes were bottomless pools that you wanted to drown yourself in. You feel your breath hitch in your throat and the salty pang of chlorine hitting your nose.

“Don’t,” you whisper back, voice trembling slightly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you could love me.”

He frowns at your statement but knows better than to try to convince you otherwise. The ability to do so was something difficult to prove, and it would take years for you to ever convince yourself of something like that. Let alone coming from a stranger—someone who should’ve been a one-night-stand. So instead of saying anything he wraps his arms around you combs his fingers through your hair, your cheek resting on the nape of his neck.

When morning came, you had to tear him away from yourself, remind him that he needed to go to practice.

“They won’t miss me there, but I’ll miss you,” he says, trying to get another kiss. You laugh. You parted out by your door, kissing each other goodbye (again) and promising to see each other whenever your schedules allowed. You told him where he could find you and he promised to come visit soon, next time with only one kind of takeout and something for the dogs.

The two of you saw each other frequently throughout the next couple of months. Like clockwork, he came over every Wednesday and Sunday night—arms open and wide smile, barely having taken off his shoes in your hallway before rushing over to pepper you with kisses. You would binge TV shows together, scarf down food, walk the dogs, and make wild, passionate sex whenever allowed. The noise complaints from neighbors came back, but it didn’t bother you one bit. You were finally happy, having felt that deep bout of loneliness begin to shrink in size. You went back to writing too—having the mental energy to finally do it and write about things that weren’t as depressing. Sometimes you’d read them to him over dinner, or while you were on top of him.

“You’re gorgeous,” Ken says, cupping your cheek while you fucked yourself onto him. “My gorgeous girl.”

His girl. God. It was like he knew all the right to say, knew exactly where to touch you so that you were a shivering mess underneath him. You would never tell him but you caught yourself hopeful for the future, wondering whether or not you would still be with him in five years time. One night, Ken walks in on you getting ready in front of your vanity, all dolled up—hair curled, makeup done and all that.

“Woah,” he says, leaning on your bed frame, mouth open in awe. “Putting on a show for me?”

“No,” you smile at him, “I thought we could go out for dinner. I haven’t been outside except for work and errands in a while.”

You walked over to him and traced your fingers up his arm, smoothing over the creases on his shirt. “Could be fun.”

A flash of panic across his face.

Huh?

“Uhm,” he says, scratching the back of his head and tearing his gaze away from you. “I don’t know.”

This was new. Ken had never been the type to say ‘I don’t know’. He was always sure of what he wanted, what he took—this was something entirely new. What was this? The sudden doubt? The nervousness?

You arched an eyebrow, suspicious over his reaction. He sees this and again, that same flash of panic.

“What?” You ask, your voice stern, borderline annoyed. “Spit it out.”

“No, I’m just,” he trails off, “not in the mood. Let’s just stay in. Please?”

You cross your arms, and huff out. Begging wasn’t going to get him anywhere this time. “No, something’s up. You’re hiding something.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“No, I-”

“Look, we could go about this all night, or you could come clean.”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We can’t go out,” he says, exhaustion and worry evident in his eyes. “It’s bad for me.”

You feel your heart drop.

“Bad for you?”

“The paparazzi, the press,” he says with a pained look on his face, “they’d tear me to shreds.”

“So like, what? You knew this from the beginning and you were never going to tell me?”

He looks away.

“Ken,” you say, almost pleading, “were you just leading me on?”

No response from him.

“God that’s,” you’re in disbelief, tears welling up in your eyes. “That’s cruel. That’s so cruel of you.”

He stares at the ground and says nothing. You sit at your vanity table and slowly begin taking off your accessories, getting un-ready due to the night being ruined. During this almost ritualistic act, a symbol for something ending—a date night, a relationship—you hated what you found yourself thinking about. It was that you would’ve been okay with having to put your career on hold if it meant being with him, you could stand to be his secret, but you couldn’t stand the fact that he knew was going to hurt you and did nothing to warn you about it.

This is why I don’t do one night stands, you thought to yourself, reminiscing about slipping way from his house at dawn and how it should’ve stayed that way. You shouldn’t have opened the door for him when he showed up at your place, you should’ve slammed the door in his face, cussed him out, let Lassie and Strauber at him, tear him to bits and pieces. But you didn’t, and now you’re here.

You look behind your shoulder, Ken sat on the floor looking humiliated and dejected. A part of you ached at the sight, wanted to walk over and comfort him, but he didn’t deserve that. Not after what he did. Why would you comfort the person who caused you so much hurt?

“You should go,” you say, hoping he would put up a fight to stay—show he cared.

“Yeah, I should,” he says, getting up.

Fuck.

prev | next

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author’s note: it is with a heavy heart that I’ll announce that the doghouse will be my last kenji fic in a while :”) I’m forever grateful for all the love and support that my kenji fics have gotten. It truly astounds me as to how welcoming the tumblr community has been with me and I am so happy I have gotten to be a part of this :D will this be my last kenji fic? No. I’ve got a few drafts cooking up :) but I will be focusing on other fandoms, namely haikyuu. All in all, I’d like to thank everyone again who liked my works and support me throughout, I’m forever grateful. I’ll see you guys in the epilogue !! <3

taglist: @luneariaa @moonjellyfishie @sweetcheeksbby-deactivated20240 @shittingonyourgrave @shauu @witcwitchy @fcklxnaa @despacito-uwu16 @mqshido @miffysoo @ybbayk @hore4ken @mochminnie @femmefqtqle @miratastic @lovingyeet @mythicalmo @yourfellowmarzipan @softdumplingposts @strayy-kidz @floppy-aura-koi

[mingi-s-dimples]

In Tune with You - Hongsang

KINKTOBER DAY 2 - REQ. BY @hongjoongtime117

~"Rockstar Hongjoong and drummer Yeosang x fan fem reader; Please, whatever you do, make Hongjoong a biter lol"

pairing: rockstar!hongjoong x fan fem!reader x drummer!yeosang

genre: 18+, filth, NDA au, fan x singer au

summary: That NDA you've always heard about around at the shows finally finds it's way to you and.. you have the best night of your life with your two most favourite artists.

wc: 3.5k

warnings: NDA au (Non Disclosure Agreement), hongjoong is a biter, big dick!hongsang (obvi), double penetration (same hole upsi), swallowing, lots of cum, cum play, praise (good girl), pet names (love, sweetie), slightly sucking both at the same time, unprotected sex (wrap up irl!), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, unedited.

Author's Note: This was hot.. Lis knows but I'd be jumping around in my room while writing LMAO I'm so sorry it took that long... my love I hope you'll like it !

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction & does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The crowd roared, lights flashing in time with the heavy beats of the drum as the electric guitar wailed through the air. Your heart pounded in your chest, matching the rhythm of the music. You could barely hear your own thoughts over the deafening sound of the band, but you didn’t care. This was where you were meant to be—lost in the sea of fans, watching your favorite band tear up the stage.

And at the center of it all was Hongjoong, his fingers flying across the strings of his guitar, his voice gritty and powerful as he belted out the lyrics. He was the epitome of a rockstar, all confidence and swagger, his messy hair falling into his eyes as he played like his life depended on it. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and judging by the screams of the fans around you, neither could they.

But your attention wasn’t solely on Hongjoong. Behind him, in the shadows of the stage, was Yeosang, the drummer. His quiet intensity was a perfect contrast to Hongjoong’s wild energy. With every beat of the drums, Yeosang commanded the stage in his own way, his muscles flexing as he played with an almost hypnotic focus. He didn’t need to be front and center to hold your attention; there was something magnetic about the way he seemed to pour himself into the music.

You had followed this band for years, attending every concert you could, always finding yourself drawn to these two. Hongjoong’s raw talent and Yeosang’s quiet allure had captivated you from the start. You had spent countless hours imagining what it would be like to meet them, to talk to them, to somehow get closer to the rockstars who had unknowingly taken up residence in your mind.

But that was just a fan’s fantasy. The reality was that they were untouchable, larger-than-life figures who existed on a stage, far removed from people like you. You had heard stories, though—rumors of fans getting to meet their idols, of secret parties, of NDAs being handed out to ensure that what happened in private stayed private. But those were just stories, right? A girl could dream, but she knew better than to expect anything more.

Or at least, that’s what I thought.

---

The concert ended in a blur of lights and sound, and you found yourself standing outside the venue, still buzzing with the energy of the performance. The streets were packed with fans, all of you high on the adrenaline of the show. ayou were about to head home, already replaying the concert in your mind, when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned to see a man dressed in all black, an earpiece in his ear and a no-nonsense expression on his face. He looked official, like he was part of the band’s security team or something. My heart skipped a beat as he handed me a small piece of paper.

“You’ve been selected for a private meet and greet with Hongjoong and Yeosang,” he said in a low voice, barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Your eyes widened, and you stared at the paper in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, his expression not changing. “If you’re interested, be at this address in one hour. But there’s one condition—you’ll need to sign a non-disclosure agreement. No phones, no pictures, no talking about what happens. Do you understand?”

You could barely breathe as you looked at the address scrawled on the paper. That's the NDA everyone has been talking about. This was insane. There was no way this was real, right? And yet, here you were, holding the proof in your hands.

You swallowed hard, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside. This was it. This was your chance. “I understand,” you managed to say, voice shaky with excitement.

“Good,” he said with a curt nod. “We’ll see you there.”

---

An hour later, you found yourself standing outside a nondescript apartment building, heart pounding with anticipation. You had never expected anything like this to happen, and now that it was, You weren't sure what to do with yourself. Hands were shaking as you buzzed the intercom, and when the door clicked open, You felt like you was stepping into a dream.

The apartment was sleek and modern, but it had a casual, lived-in feel that made it clear this was where Hongjoong and Yeosang actually spent their time. The low hum of music played in the background, and as you stepped inside, You were greeted by none other than Hongjoong himself.

“Hey,” he said with a grin, his voice as smooth and confident as ever. He looked different without the stage lights and the crowd—a little more relaxed, but no less magnetic. “Glad you could make it.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your cool. “I can’t believe this is happening,” you admitted, voice a little breathless.

Hongjoong chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Believe it. Come on, we’ve got drinks and stuff set up in the back. Yeosang’s waiting.”

You followed him through the apartment, heart racing with every step. When the two of you entered the living room, you saw Yeosang lounging on the couch, a drink in his hand. He looked up as you walked in, his expression calm and unreadable, but his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Make yourself comfortable.”

You sat down on the couch across from them, trying to wrap your head around what was happening. It felt surreal to be sitting here, in their apartment, after watching them perform just a few hours ago. You could barely think straight, and the tension in the room was palpable.

Hongjoong handed you a drink, and you took it gratefully, hoping it would calm your nerves. As you sipped it, you couldn’t help but not think about how the two were watching you—Hongjoong with that playful, teasing smile, and Yeosang with a quiet, almost predatory focus.

“We’ve seen you at a few of our shows,” Hongjoong said, leaning back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. “You’re always in the crowd, aren’t you?”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Yeah, I’ve been a fan for a long time.”

Yeosang smirked, setting his drink down on the table. “We noticed.”

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like you were in way over your head. There was something electric in the air, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was more than just the thrill of meeting them—it was the way they were both looking at you, the way the conversation felt charged with something unspoken.

Hongjoong leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “So, here’s the deal. You’re here because we like you, and we think you might be up for something… fun. But before we go any further, you need to know that this is completely private. What happens here stays here. That’s why we’ve got the NDA.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sunk in. Fun? Your mind raced with possibilities, but you didn’t have time to dwell on them before Yeosang spoke up, his voice low and deliberate.

“If you’re not into it, you can walk out right now. No hard feelings.”

You looked between the two of them, pulse racing. The thrill of the unknown, the excitement of being here with them—it was all too much to resist. With a deep breath, you nodded.

“I’m in.”

"Great! Sign this, please." the older one said.

Right after you signed it, Hongjoong excitedly took it from your hands and threw it on the coffee table, then approached you slowly. You found yourself here now, standing between them, heart racing in your chest as the air seemed to thicken with unsaid words and unspoken feelings.

Hongjoong was the first to close the distance, his hand warm as it gently cupped your face. His touch was careful, as though he was afraid of moving too quickly, yet his dark eyes revealed an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His thumb grazed your cheek softly as he leaned in, his lips brushing the side of your neck in a delicate kiss. It wasn’t rushed, just slow and full of unspoken desire, leaving warmth in its wake.

“You’ve been on my mind since the moment I saw you,” Hongjoong whispered against your skin, his voice low and hushed, as if speaking louder would break the spell surrounding you three.

Yeosang’s hand, strong yet gentle, found your waist, pulling you closer to him from behind. His lips followed a similar path, ghosting over your shoulder, leaving soft kisses against your skin. The tenderness in his touch contrasted the fire burning beneath. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath as he kissed the curve of your shoulder, pausing only to murmur in a voice so smooth it sent a thrill through you.

“I felt something the second our eyes met,” Yeosang’s voice was soft, the warmth of his breath fanning over your skin as his fingers traced lazy circles along your side. “Like I’ve been waiting to find you…”

The heat of their bodies surrounded you, comforting yet charged with an undeniable attraction. Hongjoong’s lips moved slowly, planting kisses along the line of your jaw, his hand resting gently at the base of your neck as if grounding you. Yeosang’s touch was no less intimate, his fingers sliding upward to cradle your arm, steadying you as his kisses trailed upward from your shoulder toward your collarbone.

Despite the intensity in the air, there was no rush. Each kiss felt like a promise, every touch a gentle reminder of the attraction that had sparked so quickly, yet felt so inevitable. Your heart pounded in your chest, but the rhythm matched the quiet passion surrounding you. Their words, soft and sincere, left no room for doubt.

“We’re here now,” Hongjoong whispered, his lips brushing yours in the softest of touches, “and I’m not letting go.”

Yeosang’s arms wrapped around you a little tighter, his lips pausing for just a moment against your skin. “Neither am I.”

In that moment, with their touches, their words, and the connection you could feel so deeply, you knew this was something different, something real—no matter how fast it had come to be.

Yeosang was not as shy as you thought. His hands were now finding their way to your breasts, at which you got startled for a moment. He stopped.

"Hm? Why did you stop?" you softly said, confused.

"You flinched.. all okay with me all over you, sweetie?" he said, his breath warm and hitched in the nape of your neck.

"Y-yes! I just didn't expect it" you giggled.

"This is not even all he can do" Hongjoong said, to which you gulped at his words.

What did he mean by... "that's not even all that he can do"? Your mind was now running towards the dirtiest thoughts, imagining Yeosang in all kinds of situations, which made you softly close your legs to get friction between them, your core already dripping in your panties.

Hongjoong started kissing you. At first, he was going slowly and sensually, tasting every corner of your mouth. Then, his tongue started exploring your mouth, interlocking with yours and sloppy kisses could be heard from the two of you. He bit your lower lip once, then without warning his right hand travelled to your lower back and held you close. He broke the kiss for a moment and nodded to Yeosang, signaling something behind your back. The younger one did as told and unzipped your skirt, being now left only in your panties.

"You look so... beautiful, y/n." the younger one whispered against your neck.

Yeosang's hands rode up and down on your waist until his right hand found it's way to the front, going down to your panties and pulling them to the side. He leaned in and started kissing your shoulder, as he spread out your wet folds with two of his fingers. You whined softly but you became louder as soon as he slowly pushed inside both fingers, pumping them in and out, hitting all your sweet spots.

Hongjoong was also all over you. He was kissing your neck and chin, going to the collarbones and to your breasts. He left soft biting marks on your collarbone and breasts, to which he then started fondling with your now rosey and hard nipples.

You decided to do something about the situation. You loved it, of course... but you wanted to maybe.. rush things, a little. Yoou thought for a moment and arched your back, your plump ass pressing against Yeosang's impossibly thight pants.

"N-nah.. you little-" amd he turned you around, visibility annoyed at your move.

He lifted you up, without caring about Joong being left alone for a moment until he followed up. He dropped you on the bed.

"I see what you tryna do.." he took of his shirt.

"You wanna.." his belt followed up.

"Rush things, huh?" he got rid of whatever clothes he had on, being left with his cock out. Tho, as it sprung out of his briefs, you gulped.

"So...y/n. I assure you that you'll have a good... if not great, time with us." Hongjoong said, smiling, carresing your head.

"Yes, please!" you softly said.

"Good girl. Get up, on your knees, close to the edge." Yeosang whispered and pointed the edge he was talking about. You crawled there and kneeled patiently on it, waiting. Both men came in front of you, standing. Hongjoong was still fully dressed but soon got rid of everything, smirking at your eyes glistening with lust as soon as you saw both men bare in front of you. Their cocks twitched, with pre cum dripping off.

"What are you waiting for?" the younger one said and got closer to you.

Your hands instinctively rode up to their cocks, your left hand on Hongjoong and right one on Yeosang. You started pumping both, stroking their lengths simultaneously. Hongjoong was.. a little bit louder than Yeosang. The younger one was shy...but strict. That was the definition. Your hands stroke them up and down, from the base all the way up to the tip, the red, throbbing tips, which you squeezed every time you reached them. Every single squeeze made them squirm in your hand, searching friction, by softly thrusting. You started rapidly stroking them and decided to do something without warning for one of them. You moved closer to Hongjoong and kissed his tip, receiving a soft whine from him. Then you moved your lips on Yeosang's cock and sucked his tip softly. He flinched at your touch, his hand moving to your cheek, patting it softly.

"What if.. you suck us.. on turns?" Hongjoong muffled while his right hand guided his cock to your mouth.

You did as proposed and sat firmly on your knees. The men, right in front of you, looking contently. You took Hongjoong's cock in your mouth, while your right hand started rapidly pumping Yeosang's dick. You looked up, watching their reactions as you sucked Hongjoong off. Yeosang was pleased at the view, patiently waiting for his turn.

You switched between their cocks by slowly taking them both in your mouth, not completely, but only to have both their tips at the same time in your mouth. You pressed your tongue on their tips, sucking them simultaneously. Hongjoong was surprised at the view, seeing you trying to take both so good.

"Oh wow... what a good girl.. Never thought about this before.." he said, patting your head.

You opened your mouth and let their cocks fall out of your mouth right in your hands and then you took Yeosang's in your mouth, sucking him off, too. You did this a couple of times and switched between them until Hongjoong couldn't take it anymore.

"Wouldn't you wanna get me off, sweetie? C'mon, I know you can do it." he said and guided his cock again to your month. You started sucking him off but to your surprise and.. horror, he tangled his hand in your hair and made you look up. "Let's see how much you can take" he softly said and started thrusting your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. Your hand still on Yeosang's cock, you were not even focused on him. With the other hand you were holding onto Hongjoong's thigh. He thrusted deep down in your throat and stopped for a moment, making you gag. Your nose was touching his pelvis, that's how deep and lengthy he was. He thrusted you for a few more times and he got way, way sloppier.

"Just like this, babe. I'm so close.." he whined.

He took his cock out of your mouth and pumped it a few times before coming in your mouth, some drops of silky white liquid dripping on your chin. "Swallow." he signaled but... you had other plans. You nodded, swallowed half of his load and.. moved onto Yeosang, spitting some of Hongjoong's cum on his cock, lubing it up.

"Shit.. that was hot, " he whispered, almost not hearing his words. While you were now sucking Yeosang's dick, which was girthier than Hongjoong's, your left hand was stroking the older to make him hard again. It worked pretty fast, feeling pre cum dripping on your hand once again. Yeosang was already over the edge from your hand moments ago so it didn't take long until he came, right down your throat, making you gag on it. You swallowed everything, coughing softly when he pulled out. He leaned in and gave you a soft forhead kiss, "Such a good girl..." he said in a whiny voice.

"Now..." Yeosang said, more confident. He took you in his hands, lifted you up and kneeled on the bed, making you sit on his thighs. You could feel his cock pressing against your lower back. Hongjoong came in front of you and lined himself to you. Two of Hongjoong's fingers went right for your cunt, spreading your wet folds. He fingered you a couple of times, made sure you're completely wet and lubed up then nodded behind you... to Yeosang.

"Once again.. let's see how much you can take, my love" the man behind you said. He slowly guided himself to your hole and brought you closer to him, as you were sitting on his cock. He thrusted a few times.. hands holding onto the man that was kneeling in front of you. They had.. completely other plans.

"Baby so.. we thought about something." Hongjoong said, tapping Yeosang to stop fucking you for a moment.

"H-hm?" you mumbled, already pretty fucked out.

"What if.. we both fuck you?" he said.

"Y-yes... I think it would w-work" you whispered, already thinking about the moment.

Tho... they were thinking about a different type of.. double fucking. Yeosang thrusted again only once until he was halfway in, and then.. Hongjoong made his way in your cunt.. in the same hole. You moaned in pleasure and pain from being stretched out so fucking bad... but feeling their cocks rubbing against your thight walls was thrilling. Your hands rode up and down on Hongjoong's back, holding onto him for dear life. You left scratch marks on his back from your nails, getting soft whines out of him woth every trace of your finger.

"I'm s-so close!" Yeosang softly shouted, the power in his voice taking you aback.

"Me too...m-me too," the older one whispered, patting and carresing your lower back soflty, his hands slowly going down to your ass, squeezing it.

Yeosang whined a couple of times before finishing in you, right away being followed by Hongjoong which felt your cunt being filled up. He let out a string of muttered curses, still fucking you through his orgasm, Yeosang doing the same. You were overstimulated... maybe overfucked but you were so close, too...

"Let's help her, too..." the younger one whispered and you didn't even realised what he was talking about until both men started fucking you roughly, Yeosang's hand rubbing your clit rapidly, circling it with two of his fingers. It wasn't long until you came, white liquid already seeping from your cunt, dripping on both cocks that were filling you up.

Hongjoong slowed down and eventually pulled out... but Yeosang continued fucking you, overstimulating you becoming his goal. He pushed you on the bed, face pressed down on the mattress and started pounding you with every thrust. His pelvis slapping against your ass, you could only see Hongjoong lazily stroking off his length, seeing how it was hardening again. As Yeosang was fucking you, you felt how the knot in your belly was forming once again but when he hit your perfect spot... you realiaed it was an orgasm followed by squirting... all over the bed. Tears formed in your eyes and you almost dropped on the bed before Yeosang caught you, lifting you up and placing you on the side of the bed. He tied your hair up and stood next to Hongjoong, in front of you.

"Everything okay..? You look kinda tired." Hongjoong said, a little bit of concern could be distinguished from his words.

"Yeah.. were we.. too rough? Was I.. too rough?" Yeosang softlt muttered.

"I'm o-okay.. a little bit dizzy but nothing serious. What can I e-even say.. I fucking loved it.." you whispered.

"Oh, yeah? What about a 2nd round?" Hongjoong confidently said, his cock once again rock hard in his hand, his smirk tuening you the fuck on.

"Bet." you cockily said.

"Kneel on the bed, sweetie." Yeosang finally muffled, after being silent for a couple of moments.

You just realised that this night was gonna be a loooong one... but you enjoyed every minute of it.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

The Unspoken Truth

viktor x f!mage!reader

tag-list: @veru-boom @littleblackcatinwonderland @aise-30 @galactic-magick

part 2 of the series

part 1 here

5.5k words

The light in Viktor’s workshop seemed dimmer these days. Even the once-vivid Hextech core on his desk emitted a subdued hum, its glow a faint echo of its usual brilliance. Viktor sat at the edge of his chair, leaning heavily on his cane as his chest rose and fell in labored breaths. His amber eyes flicked to the corner where you once stood, offering him quiet company as he worked. The space felt emptier than ever.

He turned back to his desk, picking up a half-finished schematic for an adaptive prosthetic, a project he had abandoned days ago. His hands trembled as he held the paper, his strength failing him more with each passing hour.

His thoughts were consumed by you, his beloved... Memories of your laughter, the light in your eyes, and the way you challenged his rigid logic with wild, hopeful determination haunted him like a nightmare. You had always been the light to his darkness. But now, even that shine felt distant, like a star he could barely see on a foggy night.

Viktor let out a quiet sigh, his hand falling limp to his side. He wondered bitterly if you would even succeed. His logical mind told him it was impossible. No magic or science could halt the decay in his body. Yet the part of him that loved you, that fragile, human part, dared to hope, even as it hurt him to think of the toll your journey might take on you. Gods, please bring her back home to him...

The question lingered in his thoughts: What good was his brilliance if he could not share it with you?

A sudden knock at the workshop door broke his train of thought.

“Viktor?” Jayce’s voice called from outside. Without waiting for an invitation, the broad-shouldered man pushed the door open. His usual confidence was tempered by concern. He carried two mugs of tea, a small but meaningful gesture that Viktor immediately recognized as an attempt to lift his spirits.

“Jayce…” Viktor greeted, his voice raspier than usual. He set the creation down, knowing full well that Jayce would not let him return to it anytime soon.

Jayce’s imposing frame filled the doorway for a moment before he stepped inside. His eyes, usually bright with determination, now seemed heavy with worry. His presence brought an almost oppressive energy into the room, though his movements were gentle as he set a mug on Viktor’s cluttered desk. “You look terrible, Viktor. When was the last time you got some sleep?”

Viktor offered a humorless chuckle. “What need have I for sleep, when my body is wasting away regardless?” His gaunt features contorted into a faint smirk, but there was no humor behind it.

Jayce frowned, his jaw tightening. He folded his muscular arms over his chest, the slight tension in his stance betraying his frustration. “Don’t talk like that,” he said firmly. “We’ve been through worse together. You’ll figure something out. You always do.”

Viktor turned to meet his friend’s gaze, his amber eyes clouded with exhaustion and despair. The unwavering optimism in Jayce’s expression stirred something in him, a mix of frustration and gratitude. “Do you truly believe that, or is it merely easier to pretend?” His voice carried a sharp edge that had not been there before.

Jayce did not flinch. “I believe it,” he said, leaning forward with an intensity that matched his words. “You’re the smartest person I know, Viktor. And stubborn, too. You’ll push through this, just like you’ve pushed through everything else.”

Viktor shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Stubbornness is no match for entropy, Jayce. My mind remains sharp, but my body…” He gestured to himself, his thin, sickly frame a painful reminder of his condition. “It is no longer mine to control.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Jayce’s eyes lingered on his friend, searching for something to say. Finally, he reached out and clasped Viktor’s shoulder.

“Then let me help,” Jayce said softly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Viktor’s gaze flicked to the hand on his shoulder. “You cannot carry this burden for me” he said, though his voice lacked the conviction it once held.

“Maybe not” Jayce admitted. “But I can carry it with you. You don’t have to drown in this, Viktor. Let me be your support you.”

Viktor swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He looked away, his eyes settling on the Hexcore glowing faintly on the desk. “There is no cure,” he murmured, more to himself than to Jayce. “No anchor will change that.”

Jayce sat back, his frustration evident in the way his shoulders stiffened. “And what about her?” he asked pointedly. “Are you going to give up on her too?”

The words struck Viktor like a blow. His chest ached, not from his illness but from the weight of his love for you. “She is the only reason I remain at all,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But I fear… I fear I may never see her again.”

Jayce studied him for a long moment. “Then fight for her,” he said simply “If can’t do it for yourself, remember what you have. She’s one lucky woman to have you and you’re one hell of a lucky man!”

Viktor closed his eyes, leaning heavily against his cane. “I am tired of fighting, Jayce,” he said quietly. “But I will try… for her.”

Jayce nodded, his expression softening. “Atta boy.”

For a moment, the two sat in silence, the only sound the faint hum of machinery around them. Viktor sipped the tea Jayce had brought, the warmth of it a small comfort in the cold, unyielding grip of his reality.

As Jayce rose to leave, he paused at the door. “You’re not alone, Viktor,” he said. “Remember that, my friend.”

Viktor did not reply, but as the door closed, he let out a shaky breath. His thoughts returned to you, his beloved, and the faintest glimmer of hope flickered in the darkness.

If nothing else, he thought, he would hold on long enough to see you again.

The door clicked shut behind Jayce, leaving Viktor alone once more. The silence of the workshop wrapped around him like a heavy cloak, but his mind was far from still. The tea sat untouched on his desk, the faint steam curling upward dissipating into the cool air. His trembling hands reached for the nearest blueprint as though keeping busy might distract him from the ache in his chest, but the thin paper crumpled slightly under his grip.

His thoughts drifted away, unbidden, to you.

He could see your face as clearly as if you were standing before him. That sweet smile of yours- the one that lit up even the darkest corners of his life. It was a smile that seemed effortless, like sunlight spilling over a quiet morning. It warmed him in ways no machine or invention ever could, a balm to the chill of his ever-weakening body.

Your eyes were what held him most captive, though. They glowed with a quiet fire, as though the magic within you refused to remain dormant. Even in moments when your power was at rest, there was something radiant about them. They shimmered like sunlight dancing on water, and Viktor often found himself lost in their depths, wondering how someone like you could look at him with such tenderness.

He exhaled shakily, leaning forward and resting his forehead against his hand. He missed your laughter too, the sound bubbling up so effortlessly that it filled whatever room you were in. It was infectious, and no matter how bleak his mood, he found himself smiling whenever you laughed. It was a melody he could never forget, one that played endlessly in his memories, offering fleeting moments of solace in the face of his despair.

And your touch. Viktor’s free hand instinctively moved to his own, tracing the phantom sensation of your fingers brushing against his. He missed the way your hands, so warm and full of life, would hold his with such care, as though you were afraid he might break. Your touch was grounding, a tether that kept him from slipping into the abyss of his own thoughts. He longed for it now, more than he could ever put into words.

His lips parted as though he might speak your name, but his voice caught in his throat. He thought instead of your lips, soft and inviting, the memory of their touch against his a bittersweet echo. There was a time when your kisses had made him feel invincible, as though no sickness or weakness could ever take him. Now, he feared he might never feel them again.

The weight of that realization pressed down on him, stealing the air from his lungs. He stood, his cane trembling slightly under the strain of his grip, and crossed the room to where a small table stood against the wall. On it rested a framed photograph of you, Viktor took this while the two of you went on a beautiful nature retreat.

In the photo, you were looking as radiant as ever, you were holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers he decided to pick for you. Viktor couldn’t help but capture the moment. He traced the edge of the frame with his fingers, his chest tightening as the ache of your absence consumed him.

“Moje milá…” he murmured, the word barely audible in the stillness. “Oh how miss you.” he placed a chaste kiss upon the frame where your image appeared.

His vision blurred, and he set the frame down before his shaking hands could drop it. Slowly, he returned to his chair, lowering himself with more effort than he liked to admit. His eyes closed, and for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine you were there.

He could almost hear your voice, soft and full of conviction, telling him not to give up. He could picture you standing beside him, your hand resting on his arm, your presence a reminder of all the reasons he had to keep going.

But when he opened his eyes, the room was empty.

His heart sank, the void where you should have been feeling more oppressive than ever. He slumped forward, his cane leaning against his chair as he buried his face in his hands. “What good is my mind without you?” he whispered to himself, his voice cracking.

The loneliness was unbearable, but he knew he couldn’t let himself fall completely into despair. For you, his beloved, he would endure. He would wait. He would fight, even if every part of him screamed to give in.

Because you were worth it… You had always been worth it.

★✩———♡︎❤︎︎

The faint whisper of dawn broke across the horizon as you walked the winding path ahead, the cool air biting at your cheeks and pulling you further into wakefulness. The world around you was eerily still, the occasional rustle of leaves or snap of a twig beneath your boots the only sounds accompanying your journey. Despite the silence, your mind was far from quiet.

The dream from the night before played over and over in your thoughts, vivid and unsettlingly clear.

She had been beautiful, the woman in your dream. Her presence was striking in a way that words could never quite capture. Her hair was the color of midnight, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves that gleamed with an almost otherworldly luster. But it was her eyes that you couldn’t forget. Burning crimson, like molten rubies, they were piercing and unrelenting as they held your gaze. They weren’t cruel or cold, but alive, filled with a strange, knowing warmth that unsettled and comforted you all at once.

Her voice lingered in your memory, rich and sweet like honey laced with something sharper beneath the surface. Every word she spoke carried a weight far greater than their meaning alone.

“You seek to heal what is broken” she had said, her tone smooth and melodic, commanding in a way that left no room for doubt. “There is a place, forgotten by most, where the veil between life and death grows thin. There, you will find what you need. Beware, for all answers come with a price.”

You had tried to ask her more, to question what she meant, but her crimson gaze silenced you. She continued as though she could already see the questions forming in your mind.

“Follow your heart,” she had said. The words lingered in the air like a soft caress. “It will lead you to the path, as it has brought you to me. Do not falter, and do not fear. You have strength greater than you know.”

The memory of her gaze locked onto yours made you shiver now, as though her eyes still watched you from some unseen distance. Even in the waking world, her words pulsed in your chest like a heartbeat, impossible to ignore.

You hadn’t planned this journey. You had no map, no guide. When you set out, you told yourself you were following logic, searching for ancient texts or artifacts that might hold the answers Viktor needed. But now, after that dream, you knew that something else was guiding you.

Your gut churned with a mix of fear and determination. You had no proof that the dream meant anything, but your instincts, wild and unyielding as ever, told you otherwise. The woman’s words rang too clearly, her presence too vivid to be dismissed as mere fantasy.

The path you followed now was uneven and overgrown, twisting deeper into a dense forest where sunlight struggled to break through the thick canopy above. Every step felt purposeful, as though each twist and turn was drawing you closer to something unseen.

You could still feel the weight of her final words pressing against your chest.

“Remember, that not all healing mends what is broken. Some wounds must be carried, and some scars are meant to remain. Choose wisely when the time comes.”

Her voice had been softer then, tinged with an almost maternal kindness, though the weight of her warning was undeniable. It lingered in your mind now, making you question what she had meant.

What kind of price would you be asked to pay? What choices would you have to make?

You shook your head, clearing the doubt from your mind as best you could. Doubt was a luxury you couldn’t afford, not when Viktor’s life hung in the balance. Whatever lay at the end of this road, you would face it. For him, you would face anything.

Even now, the thought of him brought a bittersweet ache to your chest. You could see his face as clearly as if he were walking beside you, his amber eyes filled with warmth and pain in equal measure. The memory of his voice, soft and accented as he murmured your name, spurred you forward when your legs began to tire.

This path was uncertain, perhaps even dangerous, but it was the only one you could take.

As you stepped deeper into the forest, the air around you grew cooler, carrying with it the faintest hint of something unfamiliar. There was a scent you couldn’t quite place, like the sharp tang of ozone mingled with the earthy richness of damp soil. The world seemed to hold its breath, the quiet growing heavier with every step you took.

And so, you walked on, trusting your heart to lead you where you needed to go.

The forest seemed to thicken, the path narrowing until it felt like the trees were closing in around you. The air that had been alive with a strange, guiding energy now felt hollow and still. That feeling… the one that had tugged at your chest, pushing you forward with unshakable certainty was gone.

You stopped abruptly, frozen in place as dread seeped into your limbs. Turning slowly, you scanned the dense woods around you, searching for some sign, some direction. But the forest offered nothing. The path behind you was as indistinct as the one ahead, the faint sound of leaves rustling in the wind doing little to calm the storm brewing in your heart.

Your hand instinctively reached for the locket around your neck. You’d had it since you were a child, but for the longest time, it remained empty, waiting for something or someone worth carrying close to your heart.

It wasn’t until Viktor entered your life that you knew what belonged inside. Now, the locket held a picture of him, meticulously folded to fit within its delicate frame, and a single lock of his soft, golden-brown hair. The locket felt heavier than usual as you clutched it tightly, as though it bore the weight of your love and the fear threatening to crush you.

The silence of the forest became deafening. Without the pull of that guiding feeling, every step forward felt like a risk, every decision uncertain. The overwhelming doubt hit you like a tidal wave, and your legs gave out beneath you.

You sank to your knees on the damp earth, trembling as a flood of emotions spilled over, refusing to be contained any longer.

Viktor’s face filled your mind, so vivid it almost felt like he was standing before you. His amber eyes, sharp and calculating when he worked, would soften whenever they found yours. That softness had always undone you, as though you were glimpsing the fragile heart he so carefully guarded.

You remembered the way his hands felt against yours—cool, steady, and impossibly gentle. He had a precision to his touch, as if he knew exactly how much pressure to apply to avoid breaking something delicate. You’d never felt like anything in his life was as precious to him as you were.

His voice echoed in your thoughts, low and steady, carrying his thick accent that softened every word he spoke. You could almost hear him now, whispering sweet nothings and caressing your heart like it always had.

Tears welled in your eyes and spilled over, sliding down your cheeks as the memories kept coming. His rare, hesitant smile, the one you lived for, flickered in your mind. It was never quick or careless, it took its time, pulling at his lips in a way that made it seem like he wasn’t sure he deserved to be happy. But when he smiled at you, the world felt a little brighter, a little more bearable.

You pressed the locket to your lips, the cool metal grounding you even as your heart ached.

His laugh came next, soft and unassuming, but contagious enough to fill a room with warmth. You remembered the sound vividly, how it could light up even the darkest moments. Now, the memory of it only deepened the hollow ache in your chest.

You missed him. His voice, his touch, the way his amber eyes would glow with determination as he lost himself in his work. You missed the way his presence steadied you, like an anchor in a storm. Most of all, you missed the way he made you feel seen, as though your existence mattered to him more than anything else in the world.

The weight of it all became too much, and a sob wracked your body, shaking you to your core. You buried your face in your hands, the dampness of the earth soaking into your knees as your tears fell freely.

“I’m sorry, Viktor,” you whispered into the stillness, your voice breaking. “I’m trying. I’m trying so hard.”

The locket remained clutched tightly in your fist, a fragile reminder of the man who held your heart.

Your tears fell silently onto the earth, the cool air brushing against your skin as if to remind you that the world around you hadn’t stopped, even though your heart felt like it had shattered. You clutched the locket tighter, Viktor’s image vivid in your mind as the weight of your grief pressed down on you.

But then, you felt it again… a presence.

It wasn’t threatening, but it was powerful, unmistakable, and familiar in a way you couldn’t immediately place. The fine hairs on your arms stood on end, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat. A soft rustle behind you made you turn your head slowly, your tears momentarily forgotten.

Standing just a few feet away was a woman, a vision of haunting, almost ethereal beauty. She had long, raven-black hair that cascaded down her back in silky waves, shimmering faintly as though catching the light in ways the forest couldn’t possibly provide.

Her tall, slender frame was draped in a dark, flowing gown that swayed gently with each movement. She was effortlessly graceful, her every step seeming to float across the earth with such ease that it almost seemed like she was hovering. Her lips were full, painted in the faintest shade of crimson, and when she smiled, it was soft yet knowing, as though she was privy to secrets you had yet to understand.

She was beautiful, in a way that felt almost unreal. It wasn’t just her features but the air around her, an aura of calm, quiet power that drew you in, compelling your attention without any effort.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you instinctively took a step back, but before you could react further, she moved toward you.

Her hand reached out, and without hesitation, she placed it gently on your shoulder. The touch was warm, grounding, pulling you from the storm of your thoughts.

“You’ve so come far” she said, her voice rich and sweet, like honey. It wrapped around you, soothing and steady, yet carrying an undeniable weight.

You stared up at her, your mind spinning, trying to process what was happening. She looked familiar, her face hauntingly beautiful in a way you couldn’t fully place. Then it hit you. She was the woman from your dream, the one who had spoken to you, guiding you to this moment.

“It’s you…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Her smile widened ever so slightly, her eyes softening. “Yes, sweetie. It’s me” she replied, her words gentle but certain. “You’ve done well to trust your heart and follow it here, but there is more yet to do.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but your throat felt dry, the words caught in your chest. She looked at you with a knowing calm, as if she could see every question you struggled to voice.

The woman looked down slightly, lowering herself to be closer to your level. Her gaze was steady, her eyes never leaving yours. “I know you carry a heavy burden, but the path ahead is not one you must walk alone. Trust your instincts, and you will find the answers you seek.”

You were silent, captivated by her presence, by the certainty in her voice. Something about her was familiar, as if you had known her for far longer than just a dream. The weight of your grief for Viktor, the uncertainty of everything you’d been searching for, seemed to fade just a little in the warmth of her gaze.

The woman’s gaze never wavered, her ruby eyes seeming to pierce through you with an understanding that felt both comforting and unsettling. A soft smile lingered on her lips as she withdrew her hand from your shoulder, her presence still radiating an almost tangible warmth.

“My name is Magnolia,” she said, her voice carrying a gentle authority, the name flowing from her lips like a melody. “And I have been waiting for you.”

The words struck a chord deep within, stirring something ancient and profound. You blinked, trying to grasp the gravity of the moment, the world around you feeling quieter, as though it were holding its breath. The mention of waiting for you, for someone like you, made your heart skip, but also set your mind racing with questions.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. There was no need to be afraid, not with this woman who felt so familiar, yet so unknown. Your instinct told you to trust her, just as you had trusted the path that led you here. Still, your voice caught in your throat as you spoke, trying to match the calm serenity that seemed to envelop her.

You introduced yourself but the words felt heavier than usual and Magnolia nodded once, a soft approval in her expression, as though she had known all along. “A beautiful name for a soul destined for great things,” she said, her voice warm and steady, grounding you in the quiet confidence of the moment.

The weight of her words settled over you, making your heart flutter slightly in your chest. Her gaze lingered on you, unwavering, as though she could see more than you were ready to reveal.

“You have questions,” she said, her voice dropping into a soft, knowing cadence. “Questions that I will answer, but first, you must understand this: you are not alone in this journey. There are forces greater than what you can see at play, and it is your heart that will guide you to the truth.”

Her eyes softened, watching you with something akin to compassion, as if she understood the turmoil within. You opened your mouth to speak, but she raised her hand in gentle command, quieting you without a word.

“Patience, please.” Magnolia whispered, her tone both soothing and firm. “The answers will come when you are ready.”

The days that followed were a blur of learning and practice. Magnolia took you under her wing, patiently guiding you through the basics of healing magic. She taught you to feel the pulse of life energy that ran through all things, how it flowed through the earth, the plants, and even the air itself. You learned how to connect with that flow, drawing upon it to mend the broken, the injured, and the weary.

It was challenging at first, as you struggled to focus and control the energy that surged within you. But with each passing day, you began to grasp the fundamentals, feeling the energy settle within your hands before channeling it into whatever needed healing. At first, it was small things: a scratch on your hand, a wilting flower. But then, Magnolia guided you to greater feats, showing you how to close deeper wounds, how to ease pain with a touch, how to coax life back into the fragile stems of dying plants.

The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt before. Each time you healed, it was as though your own body hummed with the power of the world itself, the magic flowing through you with a strength that left you breathless. It was a strange, heady feeling—this connection to something larger, more ancient than you could comprehend.

Magnolia was impressed by your progress. She watched as you healed a small cut on your arm one afternoon, her gaze thoughtful as she observed the ease with which you manipulated the energy.

“You learn quickly,” she remarked, her tone filled with quiet admiration. “The magic seems to come naturally to you. It is rare to see someone with such raw talent.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of pride at her praise, but it was clear that she had seen something in you that went beyond mere skill. She had always been kind, guiding you with patience, but now, there was a flicker of something more—a deep respect, even awe. She seemed to recognize the potential within you before you did.

As you continued to train, you discovered a new aspect of your magic that seemed to surface on its own. You had always felt a strange connection to plants, as if they whispered to you when you were near them. Now, you realized it was more than just a passing intuition—it was magic. It came from the earth itself, and you could manipulate it in ways that were both powerful and delicate.

One afternoon, as you practiced with a small patch of withered vines, you reached out, your hands hovering just above the brittle stems. Your magic responded almost instinctively, a wave of energy that pulsed through your fingertips and into the ground below. The vines trembled for a moment, then began to stir. Slowly, they lifted, their leaves unfurling, vibrant and green, as though brought back to life.

Magnolia stood a few paces away, her eyes wide as she watched the transformation unfold. There was a flicker of surprise in her gaze before she gave a small nod of approval.

“Remarkable,” she said softly, her voice filled with awe. “You have a gift for plant magic—a connection to nature that I have not seen in good while. Your abilities go beyond just healing. You can command the life force of the earth itself. Remember that.”

You could hardly believe it. The plants had always felt alive to you, but to see them respond to your touch, to feel the energy flowing through them as you healed them, was something altogether different. It was a power unlike any you had ever known, a bond with the earth that was deep and unbreakable.

Magnolia smiled, a proud and knowing smile. “You are more than ready for what lies ahead,” she said. “The journey you are on will demand all of this—your strength, your connection to the world around you. It will not be easy, but you are capable of more than you know.”

Her words filled you with a sense of calm determination. You had come so far in such a short time, and now, it seemed that the path before you was clearer than ever. With Magnolia’s guidance, you were ready to face whatever trials awaited you, knowing that the magic within you was stronger than you had ever realized.

But there was still one thing that weighed heavily on your heart: Viktor. Every moment spent away from him felt like an eternity. Your magic had grown, but you knew that it wasn’t enough yet. You needed to find the cure. You needed to save him.

And with the newfound strength and knowledge you had gained, you would..

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Song of the Loon

Author: Desirae

Artist: eggchef

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: mentions of past Dean/Lisa

Length: 24438

Warnings: n/a

Tags: Narrator Castiel/Campground owner Dean, strangers to friends to lovers, past family trauma, survivors guilt, substance abuse(not Dean or Cas), Nurturer Dean, Hurt/Comfort, canon typical violence, angst with a happy ending, cabin by the lake fic

Posting Date: October 24, 2024

Summary: Dean Winchester is expecting a quiet, if not awkward, summer. His estranged brother Sammy was coming to visit from California, and all the chores around his lakeside cabin were not enough to distract him from his nerves. That is until an unexpected phone call from Sam’s sponsor, Gabriel, called with a favor: Could Dean put Gabriel’s brother Castiel up for the summer, no questions asked? Audiobook narrator Castiel Novak is exhausted and travel-weary. Fresh off of a book tour, Castiel arrived home to find his longtime online stalker has been to his apartment. At the urging of his brother, Castiel finds himself on a road trip to Angel’s Peak, Maine, where his host, Dean, is as stunning as the mountain view. Although Castiel and Dean feel an immediate connection, Cas is guarded, with emotional baggage he doesn’t want to inflict on his new friend. Will a summer in the wilds of Maine be enough for Dean break through Castiel’s walls and prove that he is worthy of love and protection? 

Excerpt: Castiel or C.J. Krushnic as he was known in the literary world, had spent the last few months doing the convention circuit promoting the latest book in the paranormal series. Very much an introvert, these events pushed Castiel far beyond his comfort zone, but the book series' popularity had made conventions a part of the job. This latest had been his third and he was getting better at sitting up on stage with fellow panelists. Castiel’s heart beat a fast staccato, as he answered questions about what it was like to give voice to characters like The Wesson brothers; his face a stoic mask as Castiel adhered to the requests to read book passages aloud in his distinctive gravelly voice.  He’d gotten through it, but now Castiel was drained and all he wanted was quiet and space.  Peering over the railing, Castiel heard the belligerent bellowing of a taxi driver and the jarring blare of a horn being pressed. Castiel sighed again. He needed to get away. Somewhere quiet, where he could just exist in peace and solitude. Castiel left the balcony, closing the doors behind him. With a jaw-cracking yawn, he dragged his boned tired body across the living room, back through to the bedroom, and into the ensuite bathroom. He set his now empty whiskey glass on the counter with an audible click. Tired blue eyes stared back at him from the mirror above the sink. Frowning, Castiel tore his gaze away from himself and turned on the water, cupping it in his palms before scrubbing it briskly over his stubbled face. His dark hair stood in tufts and he could use a shave, but Castiel just didn't have the energy. Wandering back out into the living room, Castiel absent-mindedly clicked on the television, noting that an old season of Tournament of Champions was playing. He left the cooking show on and grabbed the mail from on top of the suitcase. Slouching back onto his couch, Castiel rifled through the thick stack. It was mostly junk mail plus what looked like a belated birthday card from his older brother Gabriel that said I wish you love, laughter, and ha! Penis. Castiel snorted, fingering the last envelope in his hand. Furrowing his brow, he realized it was blank, save his pen name in a loopy scrawl. That was strange. Nobody had mentioned anyone dropping anything off for him when he picked up his mail at the front desk. Castiel opened the envelope and pulled out a slip of paper. His stomach plummeted unpleasantly as he read the words on the page. The sound of your voice, the way our eyes met, it is inevitable. You belong to me. -HeartsAflame With shaking fingers, Castiel pulled out his phone and quickly tapped on his brother's icon. Gabriel picked up on the first ring.  “Hey, broseph! How was your tour?” Castiel ignored the question. “Gabriel, they found my apartment,” he said, voice audibly shaken. “Sit tight, Cassie. I’m on my way.”

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[nethhiri]

Part 6

Warnings: Sex

Kamazo spoke more often to you over the course of the next few weeks. It wasn't much more often, but it was something, mostly small courtesies like "hello", "goodbye", and "thanks". He never answered your questions, never explained himself. It was more like he didn't know the answers rather than purposefully avoiding the questions, although some of it was definitely avoidance. When he was feeling particularly chatty, he would ask what you would like to eat. You were still confused on your role with him and what you were to him, but you learned not to dwell on it. You were feeling better than you had ever felt. You were never hungry. You had never had any fat on your body and this was the most filled out you had ever been. You actually had energy for once in your life and had enough meat on your bones to keep you warm at night. It was wonderful. 

Whenever Kamazo came back from his excursions, you were waiting for him patiently. You took his scythes from him and cleaned them. You helped him take his hair down and brush it out. You helped him disrobe and clean the blood spots from his tanned skin. If you had gone with him, you would do the same thing when you both returned to wherever you were staying at the time. The only difference between whether you went with him or not was where he fucked you. If you went with him, he didn't wait until you were back. He took you in any semi-secluded spot he could find. He always had this wild look in his eyes whenever he killed and it only dissipated after he manhandled you. And even though he was rough with you then, afterwards he was gentle, apologetic you might think. 

Kamazo started bringing you more than just clothes and small trinkets. He caught you drawing your little mouse sculpture in the dirt while you were waiting for him once, so he brought you back a small bundle of papers and some charcoal. When you ran out of those, he brought you a few paints and some more paper. Sometimes he sat beside you and watched. To show your gratitude, you made a small picture of him. That was the first time he truly got angry with you, and the first time he spoke more than a few words at a time. Kamazo made it clear that you were never to depict his face or anything about him ever again. It scared you. He scared you.

You didn't get gifts for some time after that, but when you did, they were even nicer. Kamazo had even drawn a little mouse on the top of the next bundle of papers gave to you as a semi-apology, or that's how you interpreted it anyway. He knew how much you treasured the little mouse he had given you. He seemed to especially like when you sat at the table and drew as he prepared dinner or when he pulled you into his lap and watched over your shoulder as you drew. This was one of those nights. You were comfortably in his lap with a full stomach, balancing your precious few papers on your knee while you sketched. The small square canvas filled up with little doodles of mice. You bounced slightly as Kamazo let out an amused sigh, almost a chuckle.

"Mice?"

"I like them." You said your thoughts aloud. "Quiet. Small. Unassuming. Like me."

"Hm."

"Yes?" 

You were surprised he said anything at all. 

"You're not a mouse."

"No?"

"You're a sparrow: resilient, adaptable, loyal."

You had nothing to say. He really thought that of you? You leaned back and rested your head on his shoulder to look at him. You liked when he was like this. His blue eyes were calm and held some unexplainable melancholy. The darkness wasn't in him then. Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him. Maybe it was the blue of his eyes that had grown to be familiar or maybe it was the words you took to be kindness. 

"I- I don't know why- sorry."

He looked just about as shocked as you did. You hastily put your papers together and grabbed your drawing tools before getting out of his lap. It was time for bed anyway. Neither of you spoke another word about it, not then and not for the next fews days either. You continued to be his shadow, hiding while he went off to do his work. Sometimes it wasn't so much hiding as it was just sitting somewhere quiet and waiting for him to return. In the meantime you would keep yourself occupied with your art. He even let you have the small blade on occasion, just in case you needed to defend yourself. Then, when he returned, you would show him what you made. That usually happened after he had taken you, when the darkness subsided. You hadn't always shown him. One day he wanted to see, so you kept showing him from then on, excited that he wanted to see your art. 

When he returned, it was still dark, but you could tell, even in the low light, that he was covered in blood, more blood than a simple wash basin could handle. He had left you to sit under a tree. You were outside the town again, heading north. You got up from your huddled position. It was beginning to get cold, especially frigid at night. Kamazo led you back to your current camp to pack it up, then brought you further into the forest. Shortly after, you came upon a natural hot spring.

Without a word, Kamazo stripped down and got into the water. As you were accustomed to, you started cleaning his blades, painfully aware of how many times your eyes clung to his muscular back. After the first time he fucked you, the first few times really, you were somewhat reassured that he wasn't lying when he said he wouldn't kill you. He got fairly rough with you, made you black out a few times, but he didn't permanently harm you. Although it wasn't your choice, especially not the first time, you began to enjoy it, or you convinced yourself that you enjoyed it, wanted it, to make it easier. You wondered what it would be like to be his lover. Would it be different? Would he be softer? You could tell there was a different side to him that you didn't get to see. You knew nothing about him. He might have a real partner somewhere in the world. You were only a concubine while he was away from this person. You wouldn't allow yourself to desire anything more than that. You could never be good enough to be someone's wife, lowborn and destitute.

You watched him rub the dried blood from his skin, tinting the water pink, though you couldn't see it in the dark. He was so muscular that he had a difficult time reaching his back. You finished with his scythes and sat behind him, pulling your clothes up past your knees so they wouldn't become wet. Your legs were on either side of him in the water. You moved his hair over his shoulder so you could see what places still needed to be washed. 

"Let me help." You added, "Just don't lick my feet again."

Kamazo laughed. Whether it was true or forced by the fruit, you didn't know. The sound that used to unnerve you had started to bring some consolation instead. When you had gotten all the blood cleaned from him, your hands traveled over his tanned skin. There were a few tight areas that you focused on massaging away. He didn't protest. You even earned a few relaxed sighs as you worked the knots out. Kamazo had gotten most of the blood out of his hair by himself so you didn't worry about that. 

The water looked warm the way steam floated off the surface. The parts of you that weren't in the water were getting cold. Stripping quickly, you made the decision to get in also. You got into the water as fast as you could, both because it was freezing to be nude and because you could feel Kamazo's eyes on you. It didn't matter how many times you were bare in front of him. It still embarrassed you. He always looked too hard, too closely at you. It was obvious what was so captivating to him. Ever since you put on weight, he loved to bury his face in your stomach, or squeeze your thighs, or suck on your tits. 

You settled into the water's warm embrace. It felt so good on your aching body. Keeping up with Kamazo was hard work. Your back hurt and your chest was sore, which you attributed to Kamazo's unrelenting attention. You sat slightly away from him, not wanting to impede on his space. He had missed a few spots in the front of his hair, you noticed. Kamazo was intently watching you stare. 

"Sorry... You have blood in your hair." 

He wiped at a few places. 

"No. You missed." 

After another try, you moved in front of him. 

"I'll get it." 

You pinched some strands between your fingers and slid down the hair, removing the remaining gore from his golden locks. You made the mistake of locking eyes with him this closely. They were their normal beautiful blue selves, but the light of the moon made them so clear. The darkness that clouded them so often was absent. There was a softness in them that made your heart beat faster. That urge overcame you again, and you closed the distance between you both. This time you didn't apologize after you kissed him. 

Kamazo didn't flinch. In fact, he seemed to be waiting for you to decide what you were going to do now. What were you going to do now? What were you doing? This was the man you wanted to be with, not the man with darkness. This one made you feel safe and special and cared for: loved. You leaned in again, kissing him. He kissed you back, pulling you into his lap to straddle him. Your hands went into his hair, wandered over his neck and his chest with this new permission to touch. Similarly, his own hands groped you, but in a much gentler way than he normally did, actually taking the time to appreciate every fold and curve. He had you stand up on your knees so he could reach your tits with his mouth. He didn't bite this time, only kissing and sucking the soft skin, gently playing with your nipples with his hand or his tongue. You gazed at him with lust-filled eyes and pink-dusted cheeks. 

"Please," you breathed. 

He freed you from his grip, surprising you. You thought he would lead, but he seemed to be giving you the chance to do what you wanted. You sat back in his lap and stroked him from root to tip, watching his expression turn into one of pleasure. You could feel how slick you were getting, and knew you didn't;t need much in the way of prep. You lined him up with yourself and gradually lowered yourself onto him, letting the head push between your folds. Bouncing slightly, you worked your way down, until he was completely inside you. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and began to move your hips. Slowly at first, savoring the fullness you felt, you rode him. Then the pure pleasure took grip of you and you sped up, already feeling the heat pool in your stomach. He groaned in response feeling your walls twitch around him. It felt too good for him not to grab your hips and help you with the pace. Soon, he was slamming your hips down on his own, essentially using your body to jerk himself off. The water around you was choppy from all the movement. Between each other's moans, you were fervently kissing, tangling tongues and sucking on each other's lips. Your moans grew more high pitched and your breathing turned into pants. Your legs were jelly from bouncing yourself in his lap and he was doing much of the work now, helping you bounce. The pressure in your lower abdomen was building. 

"Kam-azo," you groaned. "I'm so close." You threw your head back as the orgasm grew closer. "Kam- Kam! Oh fuck, Kam!" You couldn't even get his full name out as your pleasure crashed over you.

Kamazo leaned you back slightly and buried his face in your chest. You could feel the vibrations of his moans as your own throes of passion drove him to climax as well. He might have said your name, though it was muffled. You'd like to imagine he said it. 

Neither of you moved. You thought he would shove you off, instead he let you lay against his chest. There was something about having him still inside you that made you feel complete. Rays of sunshine poked out from the horizon and the sky turned pink with dawn. The sunlight bouncing off the steam looked like fire. He stroked your hair and trailed his fingers down your back. You were turned slightly in his lap and his other hand rested on your stomach, his thumb moving idly against your skin. You stayed wrapped in his strong arms until the sun was fully above the horizon. 

Tag list: Tag List: @nocturnalrorobin @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @fendifendi @eustasscapitankid @iggy5055 @hannahbarberra162 @mapachito

[dilfhos]

THE FAN.

#!WHO GOJO SATORU & GETOU SUGURU

#!CC: threesome, reluctance if ya squint, o.sex (G&R), riding & backshots, eiffel tower, rockstar/band au, GOJO plays with your ass

wc.5.6k | KINKTOBER ‘23 | if u can, plz reblog. im trying to get more traction frankly and would love my fics to reach a wide audience fr. as always, minors plz don’t interact w/me.

NETWORKS @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @planetonet

@scariusaquarius tysm for beta-ing, your soundboard and squeals of excitement mean a whole lot sugar hehe ♡

Are you a fan of the band EYES OF DEATH? Well they’re in town for Halloween! Ten songs! One night with Hunk Gojo as lead singer and the illustrious Suguru playing lead bass. Come down to the Shadowvale Coliseum to see them in action, you may be lucky to win backstage access!

“After all, you’re our biggest fan, yeah?” Suguru asked, a smile on his face as his palm tapped your cheek affectionately.

The sound of screaming coming from (mostly) women caused a ringing in your ears. But it wasn’t much of an inconvenience because you were screaming right along with them. Your eyes zeroed in on the lead, heart stammering at the fact that you were actually here, in person before your favorite band. Your favorite idol.

Gojo Satoru.

This time you didn’t have to gush over him in the new issue of Kaisen Times magazine, or smile when you see the million posters hanging up in the walls of your bedroom. He was literally feet from you as you were blessed to have stage side seats. He was definitely sexier up close. His messy white locks whipped with every nod of his head, as his slightly sweaty face was mostly framed by stray strands of silver.

You wish you could see his eyes but they were hidden by his signature frames which didn’t make you feel too bad. You watched as his hand came down hard to deliver one final riff. The crowd went wild as did you. He rocked back on his heels, a genuine wide smile gracing his features as he scanned his fans. When he turned in your direction, you could've sworn he was looking directly at you as his gaze seemed to remain on you for a few seconds longer. While you thought it was silly, a part of you hoped he was and your heart sped up at the thought.

His smile seemed to almost widen though as he then gripped the mic.

“How about another one? Why don’t you let me hear your lovely voices one more time?” He cupped a hand to his ear, nodding as the crowd, you included, began to scream again.

“That’s what I like to hear!” He turned back to his band mates, whispering to the one closest to him which you immediately recognized as Suguru. His dark and typically flowing locks were tied back into a messy bun, a few pieces slicking to the sides of his neck. He muttered something back to the other band mates and Gojo returned to the microphone, his mouth open in a wide smile,

“You ready?” He purred.

Everyone screamed yes! and as he counted off, the building was drowned once more in an electrifying riff of another one of his songs.

…

By the end of his concert, his shirt was drenched with sweat as he spent the rest of his energy jumping around on stage.

As he bid a goodbye to the crowd, you met his gaze. Or so you thought. You just knew he looked in your direction once more before whispering something to his bandmate, Suguru, who gave you a quick look over before disappearing behind the curtain.

You remained there, looking at the very spot he stood, wishing that he was still there. You clutched a rolled up paper to your chest, your grip tightening when someone bumped into you from behind.

It was silly but you had hoped you would’ve caught him before he left to sign it. Sure the image was a couple years old but it was your favorite and with his scribbled signature in the corner of it, you knew it’d finally be perfect.

But what you also knew was how wild his concerts ended. Groupies typically tried to sneak their way back only to be stopped by heightened security. You’ve heard rumors of some succeeding and bragging that Gojo and the band definitely made their nights.

With a sigh, you turned, watching the crowd slowly grow smaller as sweaty and exhausted bodies trickled out the exits. A headache was forming and even though you didn’t get your autograph, you were still content with seeing your favorite rock idol perform. But now, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep. Maybe encounter him in your dreams as you’d done in the past.

You were trudging along with the crowd when you heard a low, ‘psst’.

You wouldn’t have paid much attention to it if it had only happened once. But when it was heard again, this time a bit more persistent, you whipped your head around only to be met with nameless faces of the crowd.

But then you heard, “Here.”

Off to the side was a man in a black leather jacket with a cap on his head. You wanted to ignore him and keep following the crowd to the exits but something about his demeanor seemed familiar. You hesitantly broke away from the horde and ducked off to the side, accidentally tripping into his chest.

“Careful darlin’” You gasped softly at his voice, recognizing it to sound like…

The man pulled you further onto the side wing, and away from the crowd until reaching a corridor. He pulled his hat back, allowing raven locks to fall around his face.

“M-Mister Suguru?”

“Getou,”He glanced down at your arms crossed over your chest, holding something rolled. He glanced back up at your face which was lit up almost innocently at the fact that you were standing in front of a member of your favorite band. He smirked. How cute.

“Poster?” He asked, turning on his heels sharply. He didn’t give a warning or any explanation, he just began walking down the hallway, silently expecting you to follow. You stuttered before your feet moved, trying to catch up to his brisk pace.

“U-Uh yeah...I um…I wanted Gojo’s autograph.”

“And not mine?” He turned his head, a smile playing loosely at his lips. His gaze made you avert yours as your face swarmed with heat. You were mainly focused on the fact that you were actually inches from him, following him and talking to him. He wasn’t Gojo Satoru sure, but Getou Suguru was just as great a musician. And an even sexier man.

You passed by a few other band members and technician crew and a part of you felt a bit nervous.

“A-Are you sure I should be back here?” You asked him after a moment of silence. He only shoved his hands into his pocket without acknowledging your question as he continued to make his way down the darkening hallway. Something about this felt a bit off but you didn’t give into your trepidation. Instead you continued to trudge nervously behind him. Still, you placed your hand into your coat pocket to feel for your phone.

After another moment or so, he rounded a corner until stopping in front of the door at the end of the hall. From behind him, you could see the name, GOJO SATORU & EYES OF DEATH ☆ in bold, white script, centered in the middle of a large star. Your stomach flipped as you read his name over and over again. Was this actually real?

“You want to meet him right?” He could practically hear you nodding excitedly before sighing. A soft rap from a knuckles later and you heard Gojo’s voice from the other end asking who it was.

“Getou,” Was what he responded with before turning the door knob. He stepped back and gestured for you to enter, and you did so, your eyes remaining on your boot clad feet. After hearing the door shut behind you however, the sound sealing you into your fate, you looked up.

The first thing you noticed was the man sitting across the room, cross-legged on the floor. In his arms was a guitar, not the bass he rocked to during the concert. Slender fingers strummed against the strings, the notes melancholic and unfamiliar. The tune carried throughout the space accompanying the soft humming you heard from him.

Gojo glanced up only briefly, a smirk on his features as you nervously made your way further into the large dressing room. He let out a few more notes, this time save for his humming.

“Erm…” You glanced back toward Suguru. What were you supposed to do? Or say? Your mind ran a mile a minute contemplating what your next choice of words would be. You couldn’t believe that you were here standing in the very dressing room of your rock idol, the Gojo Satoru and you didn't want to screw up your first impression with something stupid.

You heard shuffling from in front of you and turned to see that he was standing. Placing the guitar against the wall, he then stretched, the position drawing up his t-shirt in the process. You couldn’t keep your eyes from falling to the distinctive toning of his waist and abdomen as they flashed before you. After you heard a chuckle, you looked away, hoping that he didn’t catch your staring.

“You a fan?” His voice was like velvet, soft and alluring and even more sexier than it was when he was singing on stage. A wide smile followed his question, drawing your attention to the dazzling rows of pearly whites. A few seconds later is when you collected yourself, eyes roaming back up to his that were hidden behind his shades.

“Y-Yeah,” You start carefully, heart strumming wildly in your chest.

“A-A big fan actually! I’ve been a fan for years and have come to every single concert.” Okay, so maybe you didn’t need to disclose that last part. Gojo only smiled warmly.

“Oh yeah? And what’s your favorite track?” He leaned down in front of the vanity, inspecting something on his face. You took a moment to mentally dig through what you knew of his discography. He had plenty of amazing songs, all of which touched you one way or another.

“I would have to say...Blindfolds,” He let out a surprised noise as he turned to look at you. He was quite surprised by your response. He felt that track wasn’t his best after it was published and honestly, paid no further worry about it.

He expected you to favorite one of his more popular tracks, one of which he always heard his fans request that he sing.

Under his scrutinizing gaze, you felt heat prickling at your skin.

“I-I just really like the way it speaks to me. And your use of the clever metaphors within the lyrics give it a much greater meaning than what it was meant to be. And even though it was made clear that the song was about everyone in a way, I couldn't help but wonder whether or not…” He cocked his head, hidden, blue eyes glinting as he nodded for you to go on.

“W-Whether or not if it was really about you.” Silence enveloped the space and every second you remained under it, nervousness crept in bit by bit. Perhaps you said too much. Here was one of the top rock stars standing in front of you, listening as you picked apart one of his songs.

“I-I’m sorry if I over-” He interrupted you with laughter. It wasn’t cruel or mocking, but genuine. And coming from him, it was music to your heated ears. He moved toward you, his sudden movement causing you to stagger back some.

“Look kid, I appreciate your dedication but I think you’re reading too much into it,” He gave a small friendly ruffle to the top of your head, and you bit back a squeal. He touched you.

“She’s real cute,” He remarked behind you, toward the other man, who you honestly forgot was even still here.

“I knew you’d think so. But how about we move things along? The manager has been calling my phone like crazy wondering where you’ve run off to this time.”

“Right,” He turned back towards you, a toothy grin present on his features. His eyes then ventured down to what you were still cradling in your arms.

“What’s this?” He pointed. You glanced down at the rolled poster, your face warming immediately.

“I had wanted an autograph,” You stuttered, voice barely audible.

“S‘at so?” You nodded. He held his hand out and you hesitantly placed it. You watched as he unrolled it and the way his brows shut up in surprise.

“Is something wrong?” You were quick to question, craning your neck to what he was seeing. Oh God, did you spill something on it? Did you accidentally grab the wrong poster from your wall? Like the one with old childish writing on it with, My husband! If that was the case then you weren’t sure what you’d-

“Just surprised is all. This was actually my favorite photoshoot. Guru, you remember that one?” He turned the poster around so his friend could see. Suguru chuckled at the sight, a part of him thinking that it was only his favorite because he ended up seducing the photographer. Gojo turned, moving back to his vanity. From the plethora of makeup brushes, his fingers closed around a dark sharpie. You couldn’t see what he was scribbling as you craned your neck, but it sounded like more than just his name. With a smile, he recapped the marker and held the poster out as if to admire his penmanship and rolled it back up.

He then held it out to you and right when you were about to grab it, he pulled it away.

“You know, you’re real cute,” He muttered, a finger reaching under your chin. “And you’re my biggest fan, you said?”

He was so close, so much that you could smell the subtleness of mint and beer. You were immediately drawn in, your eyes fluttering down to the sight of his kissable lips, which were parted slightly. He nudged your chin up to refocus your attention. What was the question again?

“Y-Yes?”

“You don’t sound so sure.” He teased.

“Yes, I’m your biggest fan.” You whisper. Sitting down your rolled poster, he took off his shades, revealing a pair of lustfully blown blue eyes. Brighter than any lake during sunrise. You could get lost in them forever and it was no longer a surprise why he wore his shades all the time.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his heavy gaze, which was just as well because before you could register anything, his lips were on yours, soft and tentative. It took you a second before you began to move your lips in sync with his.

He groaned against your mouth, deepening the exchange with a suggestive swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip. Parting your lips, his tongue shoved through, wild as it thrashed against your own.

Gojo explored your mouth, taking in the way you practically melted against him. He began to walk you backwards until your knees met the back of the couch. He pulled away to watch you stumble onto its surface, panting and flustered from the kiss.

He straightened to shrug out his coat before leaning back down to recapture your lips in another heated embrace. His hands trailed down your body, paying attention to where to press and grope that caused you to whimper. He loved the sound. The sweet, sweet gasps of women beneath his touch could top any riff he played.

Eventually, his lips moved away to press open mouth kisses to the side of your jaw and neck, every now and then sucking marks into your skin. His hand pushed under your shirt, dragging the garment oup in the process until he broke away to pull it off you.

“You’re so fucking hot babe,” He muttered, cerulean eyes trailed over your body, over the hot and bothered state you were in. Gojo’s hands smoothed over your neck, trailing down to your bra-covered breasts, until stopping at the hem of your skirt. You nodded before he shoved them up your waist, hips lifting up slightly for him push them up further until it was bunched around your tummy to reveal your cute panties. He looked down, grinning at the sight of the cotton material pressed snugly against your crotch.

“Cute,” He murmured. Instinctively, you tried closing your legs, bashful at his heavy gaze and comment but he shifted down until he was on his knees, in between them.

“No need to be shy,” His voice was so compelling; you slowly relaxed, your eyes never leaving his as Gojo’s fingers curled into the waistband of your panties. Your legs tightened against each other but with an almost warning glance cast upward from his eyes, they relaxed and he proceeded to slide them down with more ease.

“That’s it. So fucking beautiful…” He tugged them against your ankles, before they were placed on the small coffee table. He moved his eyes down to the sight in between your legs, inspecting the glisten coating your puffy lips.

Seconds later, you arched your back at the sensation of his hot tongue pressing flat against your slit, as he dragged the surface of it up and down in slow and deliberate movements. He kept a firm grip on your hips as he delved in deeper, maneuvering the appendage past your slick folds and into your hole, flicking and dipping between your plush walls. His fingers then replace his tongue, curling and stretching against your insides. His lips moved to your clit where he suckled and nipped gently, drawing out a unintentionally loud moan from you.

His fingers sped up, creating a wet squelch with every thrust into your cunt. Gasping, your fingers dug into the material of the couch as you found yourself getting lost in the pleasure he created.

Suguru, seeming to have come from nowhere, then moved beside you, gripping your chin to lift your head up in his direction. Despite your hesitance, he managed to press his lips against yours roughly. After a moment you began to give in, allowing his feverish tongue to slip past your lips and into your mouth, the exchange heated between lips and teeth. He grew harder in his pants to the feel of your lips and at the sound of his friend slurping away at your cunt.

A hand crept down to your clit, taking the place of Gojo’s fingers as he began to press tight circles against the area. Your hips bucked off of the couch and against Gojo’s face, smothering him against your pussy. He released a prolonged groan at the sight of the exchange happening between you and the two men.

Pulling away, the male licked away a trail of saliva from your lips before dipping a bit lower to lick and suck against your neck.

“Suguru,” You whimpered.

“Getou,” He corrected against your skin, trailing his lips down to your breasts. His calloused hands roughly kneaded each mound. His teeth teased at your nipples, grinding gently on the hardening buds before tugging softly to release with a soft pop. Just as he pulled away, a ringing sounded throughout the space.

“Dammit,” He muttered, bringing out his phone. Gojo pulled away from your pussy, his mouth soaked in your juices as he looked up at the brunette.

‘Manager’ He mouthed, moving towards the door.

“What? Yes…” The door shut behind him, leaving you and the lead singer alone in the dressing room.

He stood, pulling off his shirt, your eyes immediately dropping to his skin. You watched with rapt focus as he then plopped down a foot or so away from you.

“Come over here,” He instructed, throwing his arms across the back of the couch. You moved closer to him, your pussy clenching in need.

Slender fingers wrapped against the nape of your neck pulling you closer toward him. His lips smashed against yours, as he wasted no time in shoving his tongue past your lips. A moan was muffled from your mouth as his grip tightened in your hair to pull you closer, the taste of your essence melting on your tongue.

He pulled away to give another soft tug at your roots, urging your head up at an angle. His lips lowered to bite and suckle marks into your skin, partly in hope to cover his friend’s. When he pulled away, his eyelids were heavy over his lust filled eyes as they ran over your face and down your body.

“You’re still my biggest fan?” A few beats passed before you nodded, eliciting a soft smile to form on his face. He then moved to undo his belt, shoving his dark jeans down to reveal his dark boxers. Through the material, you could see that he was very much excited.

“Show me then.” He urged, shifting into a more lax position with his legs spread wide open.

You swallowed thickly before partially positioning yourself over his lap, level with the prominent bulge. Your eyes the subtle trail of white that lined his abdomen and disappeared into his boxers.

With shaky hands, you moved to curl your fingers around the rim of them and pulled them down enough for his thick cock to spring free, hard and long as it kissed his abdomen. You could then feel his hand pressed up against the back of your head, urging you down toward his dick.

“Good. Now open your mouth.” He cooed. You did so, closing your eyes at what was to come.

“Wider,” He muttered, heatedly. It took a bit of effort as you felt the warmth of his cock moving past your lips. Your head lowered until the heaviness of his cock pressed against your tongue.

“Yeah, like that.” He sighed, hips hitching against your mouth. His dick was thick on your tongue and you could taste more and more saltiness melting on your tastebuds.

“Fuck, your teeth babe...Watch your teeth.” He groaned, nails digging into your scalp. You sputtered around his shaft, sending spittles of drool to drip from the corners of your mouth. Your jaw ached from the stretch as he continued to urge your head down and up against his cock. In the midst of it all, you heard the soft creak of the door opening and closing.

“I see you’ve gotten started already,” Suguru’s low hum broke the sound of your unadulterated slurping. You opened your eyes to see the dark pair of shoes a few feet away, unmoving.

“The—fuck—The manager?” Gojo asked, almost breathlessly.

“I got’er off our backs for at least an hour. Told her you wanted to rest.”

“Good. That bitch needs to learn patience anyway,” You released an unintentional moan at his harsh words, finding them to be almost uncharacteristic for the male. Your eyes closed again as you tried to focus on the task at hand as Gojo’s eyes narrowed, staring down at the sight below.

He then connected his gaze with his friend before a wide grin stretched across his face.

“She’s real good. Damn, it feels amazing.” Stomach fluttering, you moved your mouth down lower, taking another inch as you sucked in your cheeks to provide more of a suction. The change in your movements took the male by surprise because he released a strangled groan, in the process, shoving you down further, making you gag and choke around his girth. Sweat beaded along Gojo’s skin as you continued to suck him off, white strands of his hair sticking against the sides of his face.

From behind you, the feeling of the couch sinking with more weight didn’t go unnoticed. Seconds later you felt a warm hand brushing against your ass, running soothing circles against the flesh.

Suguru’s hands moved to creep to your waist, pulling away at the waistband of your skirt which was bunched around the area. You were now completely bare before both men and couldn’t help the pathetic sounding whimper that arose at the notion.

“What a good little fan. You know, you’re really doin’ me a service,” Satoru chuckled. In his words, you felt a sudden surge of validation course through you. The way he spoke to you caused a fluttering in your tummy.

At the end of the day it seemed like you just wanted to please him, your idol. When he said things about how good you were making him feel, well it caused something else to stir within you, flourishing before you could have the time to force it back.

Suguru noticed the way your thighs clenched together but it was different this time. His fingers sought out your warmth and was happy to find you practically dripping.

“I think she’s loving it,” You heard him purr as he continued to run his digits along your slit. You didn’t deny it but you wished that you hadn’t looked up into Gojo’s eyes.

He groaned at the look you gave him through your lashes. As much as he wanted this moment to last longer, he knew he needed to pull away before he busted in your mouth. He needed to save himself for the main event and that was having you crying and cumming all over his cock as he fucked you. You felt a tug on your hair as you were pulled away.

“Stand up.” You rose shakily to your feet, watching as Gojo shoved his boxers away completely as Suguru was next to you, discarding his own clothing wordlessly. Gojo shifted back onto the couch, a knee pressed onto one of the cushions and his other foot planted firmly on the floor.

“Here.” Without further protest, you moved in front of him on your hands and knees, your pussy aching for attention. Which you knew he was happy to give as you felt the swollen head of his cock teasing against your folds. His breath fanned your ear from behind as he continued to slick his cock between your lips.

You’re so wet, providing his still glistening cock with enough lubrication to push through with little resistance. You groaned at the stretch, nails digging crescents into your palm. He inched his way in, slow and deliberate for every vein to drag pleasurably against your walls. His grip on your hips tightened once he was fully seated, his pelvis flush against your plush ass.

He took a moment to gather himself before pulling out partly and thrusting in once more, ripping out a strangled cry from your throat. Tears brimmed your outer vision as he then thrusted back in, harsh and more rougher than before. His knee buckled a bit in the act causing him to lean against you as he found his ground once more.

“Fuck!” He gritted as his cock throbbed within your tightness. After a few more experimental strokes, he found his rhythm, as ironic as it seemed for the guy. He continued to grunt as his pelvis continued to slam against your ass, his cock plunging deep into your pussy. Your head lolled forward, your noises becoming louder as pleasure surged through your body.

You then feel fingers entangling in your roots as your head was tilted upwards to meet the dark eyes of Suguru. He was mere inches from you, his hand fisting languidly at his cock. His thumb swiped the bead of arousal that accumulated at the slit and you couldn’t keep yourself from licking your lips at the bothered state he seemed to be in.

“Do me a favor,” Gojo huffed from behind. Without further instruction, your mouth opened and Suguru moved forward, his cock breaching your lips to rest heavy on your tongue. You tried to work it along the length of his shaft as you bobbed your head along but with the rate of Gojo’s thrusts against you, it was a bit difficult.

Suguru noticed this and adjusted his body so that he also had a knee braced against the cushion. His hands moved to the sides of your head, stilling you as his hips surged forward in shallow movements.

“That’s it darlin,” He said softly, his eyes rolling slightly. “Be a good little fan and take it nice and deep.”

After trying to keep up some more, you eventually stilled completely— slack jawed, tongue lolled out, allowing the male to use your mouth as he pleased. Drool seeped down in thick strands at the corners as he continued to thrust into your wet hole, inching himself deeper and deeper.

You suddenly gag at the feel of a hand striking against your ass. Gojo watched as you arched your back at the sting it brought, a dark grin gracing his features as you tightened around him.

“Fuck...You like that?” Another blow was delivered as another wanton moan escaped you. His hands gripped both your ass cheeks, spreading them apart for a much clearer view of his slickened cock disappearing into your needy cunt. He eyed your tight, winking hole above that and ran his thumb along the rim, taking in the way your body practically rippled in excitement from the unfamiliar stimulation.

“I think you may be my favorite, love,” He mumbled more to himself. But you caught it and felt a new sense of pride in his words. You strained your ears for the way he sucked in his breath at your clenching walls until he leant down, hard chest pressed flush against your back.

“You like that? Being called my favorite?” You tried to nod your head the best you could with your mouth full.

“How about I bring you back after all my shows. You’ll be our little stress reliever, my little plaything I can use as I want. Fuck, I can tell you’re...Mmm, keen to the idea,” His hands pressed against your ass, spreading them apart once more as he thrusted in deeper inside of you.

You choked, pulling away from Suguru’s cock, mewling and completely overwhelmed with nothing but lust.

“After all, you’re our biggest fan, yeah?” Suguru asked, a smile on his face as his palm tapped your cheek affectionately. At his purring words, you shuddered and tightened, lowering your head to release a choked cry. Your orgasm came sudden and intense, completely overtaking your senses as your legs felt like pudding.

Gojo chuckled breathlessly, taking note of how sensitive you were to his words. He paused briefly to let you ride out your release until he pulled out. Giving a nod to his friend, he gave your ass a final smack, watching your skin ripple upon contact.

Without giving much time to catch your breath, you felt fingers in your hair, pulling your head up until your eyes met those dark pair.

“Get up.” Suguru mumbled. You shakily rose to your feet, your legs buckling seconds after. Thankfully, Gojo caught you with a tight grip on your arm, and an amused smile stretching across his face.

Suguru settled back against the couch, his hand running along his slick cock. He gestured at you with a spin of his finger and you turned around before feeling his hands on your hips to pull you flush against his body.

He positioned your body above his lap, his hands supporting you with the grip on your hips as your feet were planted on either side of his thighs. You leaned back against his chest, shuddering at the feel of his cock teasing your pussy. He pressed his lips against your shoulders feverishly as you were then lowered.

You mewled as he breached your entrance, stretching you with his girth. Suguru groaned as he took a moment basking in the feel of your fluttering walls throbbing around him. You began to sink down onto him, with little guidance of his hands, your moans growing in pitch.

“How is she?”

“So...tight and hot,” Suguru groaned, nails digging into the meat of your thighs as his heated gaze met Gojo’s. He directed your attention to the space in front of you with his hand stroking his dick.

Knowing what he wanted without further instructions, you wiggled forward to take his cock into your hot mouth, immediately hollowing your cheeks tight. His fingers grasped at your sweaty roots, tightening when you bobbed your head lower until your nose was nearly touching his pelvic bone.

Behind you, Suguru was beginning to lose his composure, his hips snapping up hastily against your ass, driving his cock deeper into your pussy. You moaned aloud, the noise being muffled by the press of Gojo’s cock down your throat. You were drowning in your pleasure as you were being pushed closer and closer to unraveling.

“Such a good little fan…” You squeal at his words the same time Suguru delivers a deep thrust into your cunt. Your eyes clenched shut as that coil within you snapped, sending your body aflame with heat and pleasure. He growled at your fluttering cunt, his hips stuttering as he approached his own high. You were nudged off of him before you felt the heat of his cum splattering against your ass.

“A-Ah…Fuck!” At the sight of this, Gojo was at his own limit, his hands shaky as he held your head down against him, the entirety of his cock in your hot mouth. He gave a few shallow thrusts until he stilled and you felt the spurt of warmth hitting the back of your throat. He held you there a couple seconds later as he rode out his high, making you swallow his cum.

When he shakily pulled away, you coughed as whatever you didn’t go down, dripped onto your chin and chest. You were a mess, but honestly, Gojo couldn’t find anything more beautiful.

He brushed his thumb over your sweaty cheek before he straightened. You shifted until you were next to Suguru, who pulled you against his side. Gojo returned with your rolled poster in hand and two beers in the other.

“How ‘bout you stay for a bit longer hm? You can tell the manager we’ll be a while for the moment.” You took your poster and unrolled it, eyes zeroing on the bottom corner which, in his neat script read, To My Biggest Fan, GOJO ☆

Beneath it was a phone number and you felt your face warmed. Looking up, you saw that he was holding out the beer to you and you took it.

Suguru beside you had a hand running teasing against your slick thighs as Gojo couldn’t keep his eyes off you as more and more of your beer disappeared.

You were blissfully aware of your senses easing slightly as you started to come to the conclusion that this was the best concert you’d gone to.

@dilfhos. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE OR REUPLOAD MY CONTENT—CURRENT OR ARCHIVAL.

[justsalpals]

Jace knew pain. He could handle that.

No, the worst part of dying was the fear. That split second before the end when pain took a backseat, a fluttering consciousness latching onto the only thing he knew for certain.

This was the end. This was it. No more. Over. Dead. Gone. Finished.

His chest spasmed in wild aborted half-breaths, choking on bloody phlegm his body wanted desperately to expel but lodged in his ragged throat. Fingers twitched as if to form the somatic components for a spell he lacked the energy to cast. The world shifted and sputtered, fading no matter how tightly he tried to grasp it close to his chest.

For all the world it almost felt like being back in high school again, desperately willing his eyes to stay open as the teacher droned on and on about material components even though everyone in class had an arcane focus. Just as he had back then, Jace was powerless to resist as his eyelids drooped and he finally dropped down into the long rest waiting for all adventurers in the end.

Pathetic.

End of the line. So where did that leave him? Caught between divine domains, having never pledged himself to any one divinity. The astral planes, the pits of hell, or even following the innate magic in his blood back to the feywilds of his ancestry?

End. The end. It was the end of him.

Is this all you are?

Was this his legacy? A young and powerful sorcerer, the potential of the universe sparkling at his fingertips, all the world open to him.

Spent the prime of his life getting heckled by fourteen-year-olds who only cared about learning how to cast fireball.

(I can't teach it to you, he always had to explain to the new ones, with their dead eyes and dumb gaping fish mouths. More of a coach. We're just spitballing back and forth what it might Feel Like to have the option of summoning a giant sphere of fire to raze down one's enemies.)

Is this what you're dying for? A handful of self-centered, idiotic, ungrateful brats?

Beyond the veil of death, every nerve in his body dulled to utter numbness, something in Jace's chest pulsed.

For a boss who'd fuck a flaming pigeon out on the bloodrush field before he considered giving you an ounce of respect?

In the darkness of the in between, caught in the steps before final death, the air turned hot and tacky. Blond hair curled limp against his forehead, drenched in sweat, heat clawing across his skin like a furnace trying to burrow its way back home.

The sort of heat that made it hard to think, hard to move, for fear that the slightest twitch would cut through the atmosphere and sear your skin straight from the bone.

Something crimson crackled through the darkness. A feverish crescendo crawling in every direction, hateful and ferocious in every shattering shower of red.

It didn't have to be the end. Not if he didn't let it be.

Get up.

And really, what had the goddamn gall to keep him here? What universe thought he would just roll over and stay down like a good little corpse?

He just had to. Reach out. Had to. Take it.

Get the fuck up, Stardiamond.

A fistful of rubies sparked and flared in Jace's palm, before he tilted his head back and poured them down his open maw.

On the material plane, Jace Stardiamond's eyes snapped open.

Jace thought he'd known what pain was. A lifetime of arcana, adventuring, of teaching highschoolers, he'd taken his fair share of hits over the years. Not like this. Nothing like this.

Jace thought he'd known pain, and he was a goddamn fool.

This

was

agony.

Writhing on the classroom floor, his back arched into an unnatural contortion of joints and limbs. The feral thing tore from Jace's throat could hardly even be called a scream, mangled as it was with a century's worth of rage buried in the name of a paper thin mask. It bubbled from his mouth as limbs thrashed about, eyes rolling back into his head with the anguish of it all.

"There you are."

A hulking fifteen foot shadow loomed over his twitching corpse, greedy eyes simply watching as Jace's fingers began scrambling across his own chest. A spellcaster's fingers, ordinarily so nimble and precise, nails once filed to a perfect smooth arch now ragged and bloodstained as they clawed through the layers of his own scarf and shirt.

He tore and mangled the flesh underneath until fingertips hit jagged gemstone.

"I knew you had it in you, somewhere under that bone deep smarmy front you put on."

Ruby splintered across Jace's skin, crystalized in his collapsed lung, sparkled in the lining of his throat.

"Bitterness, frustration, jealousy, hatred, judgement, call it what you want, but you've always been bursting at the seams with rage. Just waiting for the right person to come along and break the seal."

Flecks of ruby crusted to Jace's lips, pulled back to bare his teeth in a rabid snarl. The giant above only chuckled, the sound of his laughter like the grinding of stone when a whole mountain collapsed inwards.

"Why?" The word barely scraped free from his raw throat, lingering in the palpable heat clogged air.

A large hand gripped Jace's chin to force his gaze upwards, the bones in his jaw straining and cracking with the force of the gesture. Yet above him, Porter just clicked his tongue as if reprimanding a misguided child.

"Because, Stardiamond, you piss me off more than I can even begin to describe." His grin was too wide, too clean, a little too sharp at the edges. "That's holy, in its own sort of way."