#if I didn’t tag you and you want to do it PLEASE DO IT

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Giving the nerd a chance

tags: nerd!nanami/fem!reader, college!au, nsfw, dirty talk, asphyxiation, size kink, mdni!!

a/n: this one’s a long one :) pace yourself and enjoy!

Kento Nanami is a social enigma. He is a total outlier but in the weirdest way possible.

This man is conventionally attractive. Some would even go as far to say Nanami’s handsome, almost in a filthy way. His looks are sneaky too. He’s not someone you’d immediately notice in a room, but once you did…

You would notice his sculpted jaw line first. Then, his naturally high cheekbones that gave way to his soft hazel eyes. He had a serious look on his face always, but his eyes told a different story. Maybe you’d notice his blonde hair that sat neatly on his head, styled with an undercut. Yeah, Nanami was fucking hot.

But that’s not the weird part. No, you haven’t heard him utter a single word except to answer the professor’s unanswered questions once the silence was unbearable.

That’s not exactly weird either. There are tons of people who go through college without the intention of making friends… but Nanami has friends. He doesn’t just have like one friend. No, he’s apart of a friend group.

The weirdest part was he seemed to be close with the most popular guy in your university, star quarterback Satoru Gojo. Gojo was seemingly every college girl’s wet dream. He’s the type to stand out in a room. His looks and personality demand attention.

He’s the complete opposite from Nanami.

Then, there was Suguru Geto… Geto was also a strange friend for Nanami to have. Geto was smart, funny, and well-mannered… when he was in class. But you’ve seen how Geto acts at parties. He smokes cigarettes, shotguns whiskey, and keeps up with all of Gojo’s antics. Shoko was the exact same way, except she didn’t care enough to keep up with Gojo’s buffoonery.

They were the complete opposite from Nanami as well.

Yu Haibara was a cutie patootie. He’s also a sweet social butterfly. Another one of Nanami’s friends that just didn’t seem to be his type.

You caught yourself staring at the friend group as you’re sitting on a couch at a frat house. Your college team just won the game, so Satoru had invited a whole slew of people over. You somehow made it on that list. Your friend, Utahime, is begging you to leave, but something is telling you to stay.

“Go on without me, Uta. I’ll be fine, promise.” You say over the music as you flash her a small smile to assure her.

“I really, really, really don’t want to leave you here alone, yn. I don’t want you to end up on the front page of the news.”

“Don’t wish that shit upon me.” You laugh as you gently nudge her arm, urging her towards the door.

“I’m serious, yn. Please text me. If you’re not back in the dorm by midnight, I’m calling the cops.” She says as she grabs your shoulders, forcing you to face her directly.

You admire your friend’s caring demeanor, but she was being a total cock block for you right now.

“I will text you. I promise.” You assure her once again. “Go back to the dorm. Love you.”

She sighs deeply as she lets you go. She’s still not comfortable with the idea of leaving you here, but she can’t force you to leave. “Love you too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Oh, that’s all I’m gonna do.” You smirk as she flips you off and leaves the frat house.

You take a drink from your red solo cup to gather your nerves. Nanami has been sitting in the corner of the kitchen all night. He’s alone, but he doesn’t look lonely. Sometimes, Satoru will drunkenly slouch his weight onto the blonde and slur something inaudible to him. From what you can see, Nanami just rolls his eyes and shrugs his friend off his shoulders.

You want to approach him, but you’re still too afraid he won’t talk to you. As you sit down your cup, an intoxicated Satoru is standing over you.

“I’m sorry- I don’t remember your name.” He gives you a slanted smile as he crouches down a bit so you two are face-to-face.

“That’s okay. I don’t remember yours either.” You snip back with a small grin. Something sparkles in his eyes as you give him a little bit of a challenge. He finds it to be endearing.

“Cheeky. Give me your number.” He demands, keeping his smirk on his face.

“Why should I give it to you?”

“Because it’s not for me.” He slurs as he leans in close to you. He nods his head towards the kitchen. “I’m doing this for my pussy friend over there.”

Your eyes dart towards Nanami. His eyes are glaring holes into Satoru with more anger and emotion than you’ve ever seen from him. Your stomach swirls with butterflies.

“That is a really good reason.” You murmur as you quickly type your number into Satoru’s phone.

*** *** ***

It had been days since the frat party and not a single word from Nanami. Your excitement had honestly fizzled out into sulking. Were you not good enough for him? Did Satoru lie? Was it all a sick prank?

Not even Utahime could get you in a good mood.

“Yn. This is so ridiculous. If you like him that much, just go up and talk to him.” She chides

“Noooo.” You groan into your pillow as you turn onto your stomach in your bed. “He’s too cool. Out of my league.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Kento Nanami? The nerd who barely ever talks? The know-it-all in class?”

“Utahimeee.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Let me wallow in my self pity.” You gripe before you hear your phone buzz. The sound of your phone notifying you doesn’t even excite you anymore. It’s always some lame ass notification.

Unknown Number: Is this yn?

Your eyes widen as you stare at your phone in disbelief. Your body involuntarily sits up in bed, startling Utahime.

“Jesus Christ. What? What happened?”

“He texted me!” You beam proudly. You are embarrassing. Utahime scoffs and walks away from you, unable to take the second-hand embarrassment.

Yn: Yeah, that’s me :)

Unknown Number: This is Kento Nanami. I’m sorry Gojo felt the need to disturb you at the party. 

Yn: No need! He didn’t disturb me too much.

Nanami: That’s good to hear.

God. Now, what do you say? Of course Nanami is a dry texter. You stare at the text conversation for a while, trying to think of something.. anything to break the ice.

Yn: Did you ask him to get my number, or did he do that on his own volition?

Nanami: Gojo does things on his own volition.

Yn: Ah.. I see.

He left you on read.

Goddammit.

You had your chance, and now, you blew it. Sighing, you lock your phone and try to forget he even ever texted you in the first place.

*** *** ***

I mean, who even needs Nanami? He’s really not even that handsome or mysterious. You keep telling yourself as you get ready to go to another party Gojo invited you too.

Oh, also, Gojo kept your number for himself as well. He mostly asked to copy your notes when Nanami refused to let him copy his notes. He would also send the occasional invitation to one of his signature parties.

This one was apparently labeled as “exclusive”. You had no idea what that meant, but you weren’t allowed to bring a plus-one this time.

Luckily for you, Utahime was visiting back home for the weekend, so she couldn’t scold you for going out to another party this weekend.

Black eyeliner was smeared across your waterline, and you puckered your lips as you carefully applied some sheer gloss. You decided to be casual with your outfit, wearing a basic off-shoulder black top with some jeans.

As soon as you got to the frat house, you quickly understood what “exclusive” meant. It was only their closest friends in the house. Satoru and Haibara were on the couch, lounging. Suguru and Shoko were sitting by the window, sharing a cigarette. Nanami was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, looking as stoic as ever. Immediately, you were grateful for going with a more casual look.

“Yn! So glad you made it!” Satoru grinned in a more sober voice than the last time you spoke with him.

“Am I imposing on something?” You ask as you close the door.

“Of course not, silly. I sent you an invite for a reason.” Satoru says casually as he pats the spot between him and Haibara on the couch. “Come have a seat. Get comfortable. We’re just hanging out tonight.”

You stare at the seat between Gojo and Haibara, and you decide to sit in the open chair next to them instead.

“Afraid that we might bite?” Gojo grins as he leans over the arm of the chair towards you.

“Stop it, Satoru. You’re going to scare her away.” Shoko scolds before taking a drag off her cigarette.

Your phone gently buzzes in your pocket as Satoru and Shoko begin to bicker about his social skills. You sneakily check your phone.

Nanami: You look pretty tonight.

OH. We are so back, baby.

Yn: Thank you :) You look as handsome as ever.

Nanami: Oh yeah?

It is so small and insignificant, but that little “oh yeah?” makes your stomach flutter with excitement.

“Yn?” You snap your attention up to Shoko and realize she has been trying to talk to you.

“Shit- sorry. What’s up?”

Your phone lightly buzzes again, and you quickly glance down to check.

Nanami: You’re blushing.

“I was asking what your major is.” Shoko smiles calmly as she’s sat upon the windowsill. She flicks her cigarette outside before blowing out a cloud of smoke. You try to ignore how your heart is skipping beats right now.

“Oh, I’m just in general studies right now. I’m kind of indecisive. What about you?”

“I’m pre-med right now.” Shoko answers.

“I thought you swapped to nursing.” Haibara asks as he shifts his body to face her. The two start conversing together, giving you a chance to check your phone.

Nanami: Are you ill, or do my words just affect you that much?

Yn: I’m actually ill.

Nanami: You’re also apparently a liar, sweetheart.

How the fuck was this man so bold over text, but wouldn’t speak to hardly anyone in person?

Yn: Sweetheart? I didn’t know we were on that sort of level yet.

Nanami: Does that make you uncomfortable?

Yn: No

Nanami: Good. Then don’t complain.

The throb your cunt just did should’ve been illegal. There was no reason for you to be so turned on by that, but you were.

Yn: What would you have done had I said that it did make me uncomfortable?

Nanami: I would’ve found you a nickname you were more comfortable with.

He was being sweet, and you were over there clenching around nothing like a whore.

You had been so caught up in your phone that you didn’t realize Yu had went and gotten everyone a beer out of the fridge. You decide to risk a glance at Nanami. He looked calm and composed. You wondered if he even knew the effect he had on you truly.

“Shoko, when are you finally going to get some bitches?” Satoru asks with a laugh. Your eyes widen as you notice Suguru is on his lap now. You had really been so distracted by your phone…

“At this rate, I think Nanami will beat me.” Shoko laughed as she took a drink of her beer. You shift slightly in your seat as Shoko cuts her eyes towards you with a small grin.

Nanami: I will

Yn: Will what?

Nanami: I will beat her.

Yn: Confident or competitive?

Nanami: Both.

Yn: You didn’t strike me as the type.

Nanami: You don’t think I can do it?

Yn: I never said that.

Nanami lays his phone on his lap, and you can feel his eyes trailing up and down your body. Feeling your heart skip a beat, you decide to look up at him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you glance over him. He looks relaxed. His head is propped up in his hand, and he’s almost giving you a lazy smile.

Knowing more about Nanami, you recognize it as a cocky smile now.

The rest of the “party” goes without a hitch. You decided it was time to leave once Suguru and Satoru were obnoxiously making out, Shoko was asleep on the floor, and Haibara wouldn’t shut the fuck up about the intricacies of anime.

“I’m gonna head back to my dorm now. Thanks for inviting me.” You say quickly as you stand from your seat.

“Hey yn-!” Satoru says as he tugs from Suguru’s lips. The dark-haired male made quick work of moving down to his neck. “Thanks for coming. You should come out here more often.”

“Oh um, I’ll think about it.” You smile politely as you head out the front door. The cold night air nips at your skin. The only light was from the moon high up in the sky. The dorms were a few blocks away.

You never like walking alone at night, but you try to remember that college campuses have security patrolling at all times. Taking a deep shaky breath, you step off the porch.

The sound of the door closing again immediately startles you. You quickly flinch and look towards the frat house. Nanami was calming walking up to you.

“Let me walk you back.” His voice was calm and steady, just like his presence. He really wasn’t phased at all by your subtle flirting earlier?

“Thanks.. I was actually kinda scared.” You mumble as you two walk side by side on the pavement. Your arms hug your body, trying to hide from the snippy air.

“Why didn’t you ask one of us to walk you home then?” Nanami asks as he slips his coat off from his shoulders. He then loosely drapes it over your shoulders. You feel your heart skip a beat as you mumble a quick thanks. Your body snuggled into his coat as it swallowed your frame whole. It was the first time you realized… Nanami is a big man. He’s not just some scrawny nerd. He’s actually pretty well built.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” You answer quietly, noticing how Nanami shoves his hands into his pockets while you two walk.

“That’s foolish. We invited you. The least we could do is make sure you make it home safely.”

“We?”

Nanami goes silent, and he looks away from your shorter self. The wind blows harshly, making the leaves crinkle and hiss on the trees.

“Yes, we.” He finally answers your question. You smile softly as you look down towards the ground. It seems like Satoru wasn’t the only one who wanted you around.

Standing in front of your dorm door, you slowly slip the coat off from around your shoulders and try to hand it back to him. “I don’t want it.” He answers calmly, making no effort to take the jacket back from you.

“It’s yours, silly.”

“And?”

“Take it.” You gestured the coat to him once more

“No, I want you to have it.” He says as he towers over you. You subconsciously take a step back to create space, and your back hits the door. He leans over you, having to angle his back to see eye-to-eye with you. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over your cheek as he cocks his head towards your ear and neck. “Text me.” He murmurs lowly before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You were left against your door blushing madly as he casually sauntered away.

*** *** ***

You almost think you dreamt that kiss up come Monday morning. You hadn’t texted him all weekend, not even knowing what to say. You felt scared about messing things up and taking his advances the wrong way. He hadn’t reached out to you either.

You were sitting in Neurology, half-ass paying attention as the professor lectured about neuron pruning. Nanami sat a few rows over. He always appeared to he intently listening when you glance over at him. You perk up as you feel your phone buzz on your thigh.

Nanami: You’re not going to do well if you don’t pay attention.

Yn: I could say the same for you.

Nanami: Could you?

Yn: …. point taken

Nanami: You know, you could’ve at least texted me if you didn’t like the kiss.

Yn: Who said I didn’t?

Nanami: So, you disobey my request for fun?

Yn: Disobey is such a strong word. You told me to text you, and I just.. haven’t yet.

Nanami: We’ll come back to the disobedience topic. Why haven’t you texted me “yet”?

Yn: Nervous.

Nanami: You’re adorable. What’s there to be nervous about?

“Can anyone name an example of synaptic pruning?” The professor’s sudden loud voice catches you off guard. You hadn’t been paying attention at all, and you feel your heart start to race at the thought of being randomly called upon.

“Anyone?” The professor asks once again. “Yn-“ She almost says your first name before Nanami interrupts.

“Crown thinning.” He answers the question, saving you from total embarrassment.

“Very good. Thank you, Kento.” The professor praises as she turns back around to start lecturing from the powerpoint again.

Yn: You totally just saved me.

Nanami: Pay better attention.

Yn: Then stop texting me.

Nanami: No.

Nanami: Answer my question. Why were you nervous?

Yn: I just didn’t want to say the wrong things.

Nanami: You’re hopeless.

Yn: You’re starting to sound like Utahime :(

Nanami: Will you coo to me that you love me if I act like her?

You feel your heart start to race as you read his text over and over. He was way more observant than you gave him credit for. You couldn’t even think of a time where you told Uta that you loved her in front of him.

Yn: Is that what you want?

Nanami: That does sound nice. Though, I think I’d rather hear you breathlessly professing your love to me.

oh…

oh.

You sat your phone down. No way were you going to let some simple words over a screen let you get horny in class. You didn’t dare to glance in his direction as you suddenly decided to start paying attention and taking detailed notes on Neurology.

Nanami: You’re blushing again.

Damn him and his observant personality. Damn him and his filthy words that make you squeeze your thighs together to soothe the ache.

Yn: I’m well aware.

Nanami: It’s cute. Makes me want to say more things just to get a reaction out of you.

Yn: Please don’t

Nanami: Why? Scared you might like it?

Nanami: Scared you might like the thought of being beneath me, begging for more?

Jesus. There was no misinterpreting that. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared down at your phone, rereading his message over and over. It painted a picture in your brain.

Yn: As if you could make me do that.

Nanami: I can, and I will. Come over tonight.

Yn: To the frat house?

Nanami: No, to my room. I’ll tell Haibara to not come back until late.

Yn: That seems rather rude.

Nanami: It’s far better than the treatment you’ll be receiving later.

Your head feels like it’s spinning as the professor dismisses class. The rest of the day drags by painfully slow as you feel every little heartbeat and flutter in your chest. Nanami talked big game for someone who seemed too shy to really speak to you. It made you feel intrigued. How could he be so confident in his ability to make you beg?

You took your time once you were back at your dorm: going through your everything-shower routine. You wanted to make sure that every inch of you was soft and smooth just in case! It’s not like he’s actually going to make you do anything.

Knocking on his door, you feel your stomach churn with anxiety. You two seemed to be doing better at keeping up a conversation, but you were still deathly afraid of that awkward silence sinking in.

The click of the lock gains your attention, and Nanami opens the door for you. “Come in.” He says flatly, moving out of the way of the door so you can squeeze past him. He’s wearing his usual button-up shirt with black slacks on. How does this man even relax?

Of course his room is completely clean. His bed was even made military style for crying out loud. What the fuck does this man know about making women beg?

“Your room is nice.” You compliment, trying not to sound too awkward.

“It’s a room.” He shrugs nonchalantly before his eyes travel your body.

“How did you tell Haibara not to come home?” You ask, and he gives you a slightly puzzled look.

“I told him the truth.” He says as he loosens his tie from around his neck.

You swallow harshly as you watch his slender fingers pull at the fabric. His jaw is perfectly sculpted along with his neck, and his adams apple bobs as he steps towards you.

“Which is?” You reluctantly ask.

“I told him not to come home unless he planned on watching me fuck a pretty girl to tears.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you stare up at him with almost a frightened gaze. His movement feels much more predatory now as if he’s been watching you for a while, sizing you up. He had observed and stood by, waiting for the prime opportunity to pounce.

“What is it? Cat got your tongue?” Nanami asks as he steps forward again. The back of your knees hits his bed, and his smile shifts to a lopsided grin.

“No. I just…” You had no idea what to even say to that! You weren’t use to a man so confidently bolstering about his skills without sounding like a total idiot. Nanami was a rarity. He could talk the talk and walk the walk.

“No. I just..” He mocks you. “You’re awfully nervous for someone I haven’t even touched yet.” His fingers gently caress over your collarbone, before he carefully nudged you back. You tipped over and found yourself sitting on his bed, looking up at him with big round eyes.

“Christ. Have you ever even done this before?” He asks as he leans over you. His hand press down on the mattress at both of your sides, effectively trapping you beneath him.

“Yes!” You exclaim with a huffy attitude that makes him chuckle. “Have you?” You ask, trying to even the score.

“No.” He responds before closing the distance between you two. His lips press against yours and move delicately. Your eyes widen before you realize what was going on, and you slowly melt into the kiss.

Lips smack together as he takes the lead on the kiss. His hands gently cup and caress their way down your body before resting upon your hips. His knee finds it’s way between your thighs, and he applies pressure to your core.

Stifling a small whine, you entangle your fingers through his blonde hair. It’s softer than you imagined it to be. His kisses are growing more and more demanding as he’s pushing you back onto the bed more and more.

He gently bites at your lip, and he applies more pressure with his knee. As soon as you let another another small whimper, he slips his tongue into your mouth.

He’s taking complete and utter advantage over your body while you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact he said “no”. He’s claiming to have never done this before.

His thumbs dig into your hipbones before he makes you grind against his knee.

“That’s right. Use me.” He purrs lowly, encouraging for you to keep rolling your hips. Once you found a steady rhythm, rubbing yourself against his knee like a desperate slut, he releases your hips and grabs your wrists, pinning you down to the bed.

“Ken..” You gasp out lowly, and he immediately eats up your words, forcing his lips right back upon yours.

The grinding was slowly making you feel all dizzy in the head as you slowly start to mess up your rhythm. He immediately notices your messy state. His hands leave your wrists to grab back ahold of your thighs to make sure you don’t stop. If his slacks weren’t black, he was sure there would be a small damp spot on his leg from your delicious juices.

“Hah~” You gasp as you lean your head back.

“Does that feel good?” He questions lowly before carefully nipping at your neck.

“Yes… Yes, Kento.. more..”

“Oh, what was that, darling? I didn’t hear you.” He taunts as he bites his way down your neck.

“M-more!” You whimper out as you grow impatient.

“So greedy…” He murmurs before his sucks a small hickey on your neck all while he’s still making you grind your pitiful pussy against his thigh. “Beg.”

You feel that defiant nature wanting to kick in. You were needy for him, but you weren’t to the point of begging yet.

“Did you hear me? I said beg.” He demands as he forces you down on his leg harder. Your legs tremble around him as he’s making you rock hack and forth.

“Please-“ You finally choke out against your defiant nature. “I-I.. want more, please… I need you to.. to ruin me.”

“Ruin you, hm?” He asks as his hand carefully trails upwards to your neck. He applies just a bit of pressure. “A pretty girl like you asking for me to ruin her… How could I say no?”

He removes his leg from between your leg, and he quickly replaces it with his hand. His fingers rub firm circles around your clit through the cloth of your leggings. You immediately shudder from the new stimulation. You hold his gaze as he lightly chokes you.

“I think I want to see you come on my fingers first.” He says as he’s quick to shove your leggings and panties down. You gasp quietly as you look down at him. He shuffles himself down between your legs, and he has a determined look on his face. He was set on making you come with his hand.

You push your thighs together with a small whine as he gives your glistening cunt an amorous gaze. Nanami places his hands on both of your knees as he forces your legs back apart. “Now, you know why you came here. What are you running from?”

“I- … You’re looking at me like…” the words ‘like you want to eat me’ die upon your tongue. His aura is just so.. almost intimidating. Not in a scary way, just in a he’s-not-here-to-play way.

“You’re so pretty, but gods, you’re so confusing.” He shakes his head as he carefully drags his tongue up your slippery folds. “Just sit still and let me take care of you, darling.” He mumbles before he laps at your cunt again. He purses his lips and gently sucks on your clit. It almost feels like he’s making out with your pussy.

“Oh.. f-fuck..” You gasp as you lean your head back into his mattress. Your hands fist at the blanket beneath you, ruining his perfectly made bed.

Nanami continues to lick and suck. The sounds in the room were nothing short of erotic. The wet sounds of his lips and tongue smack and almost slurp at you. His hands hold your thighs up, practically wearing them as earmuffs as he eats you like a starved man.

His fingertip gently traced over your opening before he carefully slipped a finger in. He continued to lap at your cunt as his finger pumped in and out and prodded around.

“Oh my-! .. N-Nanami.. ah~” You pant out. In his eyes, your entire body was flushed. You were so subtly grinding yourself against his tongue. In his eyes, you were a goddess in touch with her sexuality and femininity. You just needed a small nudge to get there.

He adds a second finger, and he so carefully curls them upwards to gently press right on the spot that made you see stars.

Your hands abandoned the bed, and you grabbed onto his hair. His hazel eyes flutter up at you, and his glasses were pushed up onto his head.

Your orgasm was building quicker than it ever had before. “Nanami-! fuck, I’m gonna..” You try to warn, but he’s already a step ahead of you. His fingers start pumping a big more aggressively, and he’s pointed with his tongue, focusing all his attention on your clit. His tongue swirls in tight circles around the small bundle of nerves.

Your orgasm washes over you as you clench around his fingers, spasming on his face. He continues to thrust his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm on his face and hand. Pressing a few more small kisses to your overly sensitive cunt, he slowly pulls away. “Good girl.” He praises lowly.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you recover from the best orgasm you’ve ever received. Your eyes flutter open weakly to see Nanami ditch his glasses. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth and chin dry.

He then places the fingers he so deliciously used to fuck you into his mouth, and he sucks them clean with a satisfied groan.

“You taste so sweet.” He mumbles as he slowly unbuttons his shirt. It falls to the floor as he starts to unbuckle his belt. You can already feel your arousal building up again as you see the absolute tent in his slacks. Of course the nerd was absolutely hung.

Without another word, his pants and boxers are on the ground. His dick stood hard at attention. It was too heavy to press all the way up towards his stomach. Speaking of stomach, he was absolutely fucking built. He had well-defined solid abs and a broad chest.

You watch carefully as he fists his length a few times. You admire the way the veins bulge from his hands and arms. He wastes no more time: climbing up on top of you. He guides your legs up onto his shoulders, and he leans forward, putting you in a mating press.

His hand suddenly covers your mouth. “Spit.” He orders bluntly.

“W-what-?”

“I didn’t stutter. Spit. Unless you want me to go in dry.”

The thought of that sounded like a nightmare, so you gathered as much saliva into your mouth as you could, and you spat into his hand.

He doesn’t look phased in the slightest as he lubes himself up with your spit. He lets out a soft breath as the wet sounds of him gliding his hand up and down his cock fill the room. He then wipes his hand off on the bed, and he covers your mouth tightly with his hand. “Try not to be too loud, darling. I don’t want anyone to come and bother us.”

He was so fucking confident that he was going to make you noisy. It almost pissed you off, but Nanami was a man of his word.

He aligned himself up with your entrance, and with one deep motion, he buried himself all the way to the hilt. You let out a silent scream into his hand, and your back arches up off the bed. His eyes darken as he lets out a guttural growl.

Your cunt was just too precious to him, squeezing him so perfectly. You were absolutely sopping wet and so goddamn warm. He actually had to bite his tongue to not come prematurely. Once he tasted the hint of metal in his mouth, the urge to finish subsided.

“Shhh, shh. Be a good girl. The pain will subside soon.” He assures you quietly as his hips gently rock back and forth shallowly.

“Mmmnnf~ K-kento!” You moan into his hand. He hates having to muffle your pretty noises, but he really can’t risk getting a noise complaint right now.

“That’s right, darling.. Take it..” His hips start to roll with a bit more conviction. His thrusts are slow but powerful. Each time he buried himself deep in you, you went all dizzy in the head.

“Oh fuck, you’re so pretty like this.” He praises as his other hand holds one of your thighs up for you. Your body is almost slack from how harsh his hips are snapping into you. His leaking tip was bruising your cervix with each brutal thrust.

Nanami wishes he could take a picture right now. Your eyes are all glossed over. Your face is flushed the prettiest shade of pink, and your lips are all puffy and slightly parted. Your babbling utter nonsense as your greedy pussy takes him in with each thrust.

“F-fuck..! So big.. can feel you right here~” You moan as you point towards your lower stomach.

Nanami looks to where you’re pointing, and as if this man needed anymore courage, he begins to fuck you harder.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

“Yeah? Y’feel me in your womb, darling?” He groans. Noise complaint can be damned. He lets your mouth go and grabs your hips as he continues to pound your pretty pussy.

Tears involuntarily spring into your eyes from the sheer intensity. When Nanami said he was going to fuck you to tears, you thought it was just a figure of speech. Nah, you were lying in his bed, crying because the dick was so good.

“Look at me.” He demands as he grabs your blushed cheek and forces you to look up at him. “This pussy’s mine from now on, understand me?”

“Y-yes!” You cry out to him. Your stomach starts to coil with white hot pleasure as your orgasm builds up again.

“Tell me you love me when you cum on my cock.” He demands lowly. You’re too fucked stupid to argue.

The bed squeaks and wails in agony as he his thrusts are growing more erratic and sloppy. You could feel him getting closer and closer to his release as he gets more vocal and noisier too.

Your eyes cross as you feel your body gyrate on him. Your second orgasm crashes over you so suddenly you didn’t even have time to warn him. Your soul nearly floats away from you as you feel warm juices flood out from you. “Fuck~.. I-.. I love you, Nanami!” You whimper out. In the heat of the moment, it does feel like love.

Such pure pretty words being uttered during such a lewd time. Nanami is instantly emptying himself into you. His dick throbs as he shoots ribbon after ribbon of cum inside of you. His hands are shaking as they hold onto your hips. “Ngh.. I love you, darling. Take it.. All of it. Don’t waste a drop.” He lowly growls.

The room is quiet as both of you pant softly. After a few moments, you realize you had professed a love to him that you weren’t even sure about. Yes, Nanami was attractive physically and mentally. Sure, he was apparently a god in bed, but love???

What if he wasn’t even being serious when he told you to say that? He probably didn’t even mean it when he said it back. What if you made things weird? Is that why he’s being so silent?

Nanami leans down and presses a small kiss to your forehead. “That was intense. Are you alright, darling?” He asks affectionately.

You nod weakly, not wanting to frustrate him with your insecure thinking style.

“Are you sure? I’m not only talking about physically.” He murmurs softly as he slowly allows for your thighs to slip down to around his hips. His hand carefully strokes your cheek.

“I told you I love you..” You murmur out quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He exhales softly in amusement. “You did do that. It was very sexy. Do you regret saying it?”

“I.. I don’t know.” You confess quietly. “You said it back too…”

“I did. Seeing your body in such a vulnerable state as you were trusting me with your very essence made me feel full with love.”

You look up at him as he just said the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t think I regret it.”

“I’m glad. I don’t regret it either.” He smiles and presses another small kiss to your temple.

*** *** ***

“Was that really your first time?” You giggle as the hot water coats your body. Nanami’s fingers are attentively massaging shampoo into your scalp.

“It really was.” He laughs quietly. “Why is it so hard to believe.”

“You were too good for a virgin.”

“I’m glad my darling thinks so.” He smiles and carefully leans your head back, so the water can rinse the shampoo from your hair.

“Where did you even learn that stuff from?” You ask curiously, wondering if Nanami just had a secret raging porn addiction.

“I have the horniest friend group. They don’t understand the concept of too much information.”

Ah. That makes sense.

tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog

[always-just-red]

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.   

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!” You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Could I request Feyd and reader’s wedding from “his”? Or maybe how her life changes once she’s his wife and not his mistress? I lovelovelove all the prequels, but I’m so interested to see their future together!

Forever His

Feyd-Rautha x concubine!reader

Notes/Warnings: barely smut. discussions of babies. thank you for the request and for reading <3

Words: 1350

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

You’re his now. Completely. Entirely. 

Before, anyone could have attempted to touch you, talk to you, insult you—though unwise—and no one but Feyd would have blinked an eye. Neither would they have assumed that such disrespectful behavior toward you would result in their death. A concubine is meant to be touched, spoken to however one pleases, insulted if it’s what a man needs to relieve the stress and frustration from his body. With the exception of Leto Atredies, Feyd’s the only Lord you’ve heard of who has ever given a fuck about the concubine they keep while simultaneously demanding respect for them. And on his part to ensure that, Feyd put secret rules in place when it came to you that men did not often follow. 

Being so heartless by nature, no one would expect a Harkonnen to care about anyone other than themselves—it’s risky to hint that the cold-blooded are capable of running a little warmer than rumor suggests—and for Feyd to lay out his care for you to the masses would have undoubtedly led to your death, whether by the hands of enemies or the Baron himself. But that didn’t stop Feyd from enforcing his rules and the repercussions for breaking them.

Those rules led to the deaths of many, most dramatically of his brother and a Caladanian diplomat, and it’s a wonder Feyd was able to talk himself out of the responsibility for their lives when the Baron called for an explanation. But he did. Feyd kept you alive, untouched by others, unbothered by others, respected by others because you were always his. His, at first labeled so in one way, and now, labeled so in another—as a wife. 

His wife. A Lady once more—not of your home planet, but of Giedi Prime—and though your renewed status may not change the way a Harkonnen man needs to present himself to the universe, Feyd can now be who he wants to be without the Baron lifting an eyebrow. He doesn’t have to pretend not to care for you as deeply as he does, and neither do you have to fear the choices he was making for your sake. 

From the moment Feyd kissed you in front of those who declared the validity of Geidi Prime marriages, your worries were instructed to fall in line with the duties of a wife. But with Feyd—for Feyd—it’s easy. Be his woman; stand by his side; and bear him an heir. And those things, you can do. 

—

His fingers are digging into your hips, helping guide your movements as you grind and shift your hips. He never let you on top before, and he never answered you when you asked why, but you knew it was his method of protection. A psychological need that extended to the physicalities of sex. He had to be the looming one, the consuming one, the one who shielded the other from dangers that were not present in the confines of your room. But that changed as your title changed. You’re allowed to be freer now—uninhibited—and Feyd has been willing to teach you how.

His back teeth clench, jaw sharpening with his final grunt of pleasure. With his hand on your neck, he pulls you down, lips claiming yours as he spills inside of you for the third time in the night. 

Your chest rises and falls in sync with his as you come down from the high, and then he rolls you onto your back, remaining inside of you to keep his seed from leaving your body. “Do you think it worked this time?” you ask as you regain even breaths. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he says as he tries to do the same. “We aren’t going to stop until you’re pregnant with my heir. We aren’t going to stop even once you are.”

Your chuckle is cut short by another press of his lips. Then, there is a press on your jaw. Then another on your neck. Then that kiss turns into little bites that are sure to leave marks. It feels too good to stop him, though you probably should. One of the things that works against you as a wife that did not as a concubine is the marks he makes on your body that cannot be covered by clothing. Nibbles, scratches, bruises—all acceptable on the skin of a concubine. Not as much on the skin of a bride. But it’s a propriety that Feyd could not care less for. 

“Feyd…” The vibration from his hum tickles your throat. “I’ll get stares.” Glares, more like. 

He pulls back with a quirked brow. “Ladies from other Houses eye the marks I give you and suddenly you’re bothered? What for?” He hums again, low, deep. His voice matches. “They’re jealous their Lords don’t fuck them like I fuck you.”

You snicker. “Maybe.”

Not maybe, definitely. However, you know it extends past the attention those women do not receive from their men. The fact that you were a concubine at all raises their hackles. While the Emporer and Lords have their meetings, the Ladies sit aside, offering words when requested but otherwise remaining silent, and in that silence, they have much time to think and scrutinize and judge. 

They don’t care that you were a Lady of your own planet before Feyd; they care what Feyd made you and then remade you when he decided he loved you. And now, you remind them too much of their own circumstances: a wife competing with a concubine. Except you were the concubine and then the wife while they are the wives shadowed by concubine counterparts. You’re an image of what they will never have and what their husbands wish they could have with the women they’d prefer. 

“They’re never going to like you,” Feyd interrupts your thoughts when he sees you’re lost.

“I don’t need them to like me,” you tell him. You prefer the company of the other concubines anyway—those brought alongside the wives for their Lords. Despite the complexities of your past, you connect with them better. “But either way, you need to be more considerate.”

“No,” he counters, “I need to fuck and touch and kiss my new wife however I want, and she needs to condemn anyone who gives her trouble for it.” You mock a gasp of offense. “You expect me to hold myself back with you? You want me to restrain myself when I’m trying to put a baby inside of you?”

“You make it sound silly.”

“It is,” he says. “I don’t whine about the marks you make on me.”

“Because Lords marvel at badges of honor,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. 

Feyd’s chuckle is your favorite sound. You rarely heard it before your wedding—he was always too stressed over you, concerned about your well-being—but you became addicted the moment it hit your ears. 

You wince at the discomfort of him finally pulling out, and your body instinctively follows as if to keep him where he was. When he falls onto his back, he tucks you into his side. 

“What do you think it’ll be?” he suddenly asks you.

You’re momentarily thrown off until you realize where his mind has shifted. Snuggling against him, you say, “I don’t care. As long as it’s healthy.”

“It will be,” he says.

“And as long as we can keep it safe,” you add.

Feyd swallows. You know there’s a part of him that is aware the life you have is not the life you were meant to have; that this life is a product of your lack of safeguarding; that you were taken as a prize; that he took you. And no matter the joy you’ve expressed or your previous unwillingness to consider leaving him—not that he ever entertained returning you—trying to have a child has made it impossible for him to forget how you met. He struggles. Something in you appreciates that about him. It means you helped to change him for the better. It means when he becomes a father, he will approach it differently than his own parents once did. 

“We can,” he promises you. “And we will.”

[idiotgojo]

eye fucking satoru <3

tags; gojo x reader | fluff, suggestive (?) | jealous (?) insecure (?) reader

note; here's some comfort before the next chapter leak... gojo comeback 😩

"I'm not jealous, I'm just—" you waved your hands in frustration, unable to put words to match what you were feeling. That was all you could manage. Gojo, on the other hand immediately understood. He smirked, narrowing his eyes at you.

"You really don’t realize the effect you have on me, do you?"

And that was how you ended up on top straddling him, both of you still fully clothed. The heat of his body radiated through your thighs as you sat on top of him.

“What are we even doing? I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed,” you sighed, trying to lift yourself off his lap, though a part of you wasn’t entirely convinced.

"While my princess is mad at me? I'd rather die than let you sleep upset with me," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His hands tightened on your waist, keeping you locked in place, as his gaze softened just a little with a pout.

Suddenly, a wave of insecurity hit you out of nowhere. You were usually confident—quick-witted, and perfectly aware of your beauty. But something about the way that other woman had flirted with him earlier stirred doubts. She was a contrast of you—different hair, a niche style, a whole different vibe. Was Gojo craving something new? Was he tired of you?

Just as your mind began spiraling, his palm faintly tapped your thigh, bringing you back to the present. You bit your lip, refusing to meet his eyes, knowing if you did, you might just fall apart in front of him.

"Look at me," Gojo said softly, yet firmly, as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes remained fixed on your fidgety hands in your lap. But Gojo wasn’t the type to let things go so easily. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered,

"I dare you to look into my eyes and see what happens."

You hesitated, but curiosity, or maybe just him, got the best of you. Slowly, you met his gaze.

In seconds, you felt it—him hardening beneath you, unmistakable and sudden. You gasped, instinctively glancing down at his growing length pressing against the thin fabric of your clothes. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you blushed furiously.

Gojo chuckled, reaching up to grab your chin with one hand, tilting your head up to meet his eyes again. His other hand slid up your thigh, teasing.

"Now do you see the effect you have on me?" he asked, his voice loud with excitement, eyes locked on yours that sent a shiver down your spine. The corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smile as he waited for you to respond.

Words failed you, your brain fuzzy, buzzing with the intensity of the moment. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a searing kiss. His lips claimed yours, biting gently on your lower lip, eliciting a moan from you. The pressure of his body beneath yours, the friction as you rocked your hips against him—it all made your pulse race, drowning out every thought but him.

Both of you groaned softly into each other’s mouths, hands roaming feverishly. The heat between you was undeniable, and the tension finally snapped as you deepened the kiss, tongues tangling, breathing ragged and needy.

That night, Gojo didn’t just show you his desire—he made it clear that you were the only one he ever wanted. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word left no room for doubt. You were his one and only.

disclaimer (?); a lot of ??? in the whole post, which is probably because I'm not even a real writer. I just write for fun, a place to collect and keep my scenarios I create in my head before I go to bed lol. This is my first written piece! Enjoy :)

© idiotgojo 2024 do not steal or translate. if you wish to use the idea and create a better fic please tag me :)

[wands-natsthing]

𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭?

Hellooo this is chapter 2!! I hope you enjoy it. If there's anything you guys would like to see for this little thing please let me know!! Also I will be trying to update this fic at least once a week maybe either on Wednesdays or Thursdays and then posting a request or something on the weekends. 

Feedback is more than welcomed, pls like and comment I enjoyed sm reading and replying to them and if you would liked to be tagged pls leave a comment

Warings: This is like previous high school student x teachers kinda sorta reader was 18 when that was happening tho no smut yet but will be implied in the future. That’s all i think but if you recognize anymore lemme know pls!! 

Word count: 1.3k 

Summary: You didn’t see Wanda anymore after the cafe incident but you go to the schools open house and see here there and have a talk. (I'm so sorry i'm shit at summaries)

 You didn't see Wanda around anymore after that. School was lingering around the corner, with the hot summer air turning into a cool breeze. You had comfortably settled into your new apartment, adorning it with various fall decorations. 

The open house was coming up in a few days. It was an event filled with eager students and their curious parents about the upcoming school year. Although you weren't required to go because you weren't a teacher, you wanted to. You needed to know if Wanda still worked there.

Technically, you could check the school's website and browse through the staff directory, but you wanted to see for yourself. You wanted to see with your own eyes whether the classroom still looked straight out of a Pinterest board. If the fairy lights you both had hung during a shared lunch still twinkled from the ceiling, if her favorite cinnamon and vanilla-scented candle still filled the room with its soothing aroma?

You wondered if her teaching methods had changed. Had the years hardened her patience, or did she repeat herself as often as needed? Did she still listen more than she spoke, or did she talk over students? Did her words continue to carry the same weight as they did all those years ago? Would they still keep you awake at night pondering over what she said? 

You had so many questions you wanted answers to, but simultaneously, you were afraid to know the answers. What would you do if everything had changed? What if this wasn't the same Wanda from five years ago? Physically, she looked the same, but what would that matter if she had changed from within? 

Realistically, you knew that asking her to stay exactly the same was impossible. A lot can change in five years. You should know you have grown a lot yourself, but that didn't mean you liked it. 

And who was that woman? 

You asked yourself this question for weeks after seeing her that day in the cafe, constantly fighting the urge to try and stalk her. It's not like you could, anyway. You didn't even know her name, let alone what she looked like, as her back was facing you, but that didn't stop you from obsessing over her. 

Were they together? Were they married? How did they meet? When did they meet? Was it long after you left, or did she move on quickly, and your shared turkey and cheese sandwiches didn't mean as much as you thought? 

There were just so many questions. 

The day of the open house had arrived. You sat in your car, staring at the familiarity of high school. From the outside, it looked exactly the same, with the red and blue colored letters spelling out "Go Ravens!!"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you observed the array of cars in the parking lot, heightening your anxiety. You contemplated the idea of simply driving back home, but just the possibility of seeing Wanda again was too irresistible to resist. 

The clock was ticking, and with each passing moment, your dread only seemed to grow. 

How would she react upon seeing me again? 

Would the awkwardness be palpable, or would she greet me with the same warm smile she did in the cafe? 

And what about me? How was I supposed to act around her? I certainly had to do better than last time. 

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself out of the car. The walk to the entrance felt longer than it was; each step was heavy with hesitation. You thought about the day she saved you as you entered the hallways filled with eager parents and students. The noise seemed to fade into the background as you made your way to where her classroom used to be. Your usual fast-paced walk is now turning into you dragging your feet. 

Before you even turned the corner, you heard the same laugh you did in the cafe with another voice. Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking another thought, you turned the corner. 

There she was, Wanda, standing outside her classroom wearing black slacks and a white long-sleeved ribbed shirt tucked into them. Her hair was lightly curled down her back, and her feet adorned a pair of black loafers. 

She was engaged in conversation with a parent, and her passion for teaching was evident in how she used her hands to talk and the sparkle in her eyes. You hesitated, not wanting to interrupt but unable to pull yourself away. The parent soon left, nodding and offering a polite goodbye. 

As they moved, you saw her again, the redhead from the cafe. 

What was she doing here?  

She was leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on her lips as she watched Wanda interact with the parent. 

Your eyes met. She turned to tap Wanda to get her attention and pointed at you. You stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to approach her. 

When she looked at you, the recognition on her face was immediate, and a warm, genuine smile spread across her face. "It's been a long time," she said softly while grabbing at your hands, using the same soft tone she had last spoken to you on graduation day.  

"Yeah, it has. Too long," you replied, the weight of the years settling between you both. You stood there for a moment, staring before you were brought back by the sound of the woman's voice that was standing next to her.

"Hey, Wanda, I can take over here for a while if you guys want to catch up."

"Are you sure? I mean, I know it's a little busy, " she asked, looking around at all the parents and students.  

"Yes, go. I'll be fine here; I can handle it, " the red-headed woman reassured her while pushing her farther in your direction. 

"Okay, then let's go somewhere less crowded," Wanda said while leading you away. 

As you walked to a quieter area, neither of you said a word. The silence wasn't necessarily awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. Inside, you were freaking out. 

What were you going to say? What if she told you to leave and that she never wanted to see you again?

It wasn't like you could fulfill her request if that's what she wanted. You needed this job; You could not go back home. 

The less crowded place turned out to be a janitor's closet. The smell of dirty mop water and ammonia was prevalent in the air. 

Wanda turned to lock the door. Once inside, you both looked at each other, wondering what to say.

"You look really good, so grown up," she whispers more to herself than to you while taking her left hand to brush a piece of hair behind your ear before hesitating and bringing it back down to her side. 

You noticed that when she brought her hand back to her side, a silver ring with an oval-shaped diamond lay upon her ring finger. Has she gotten married?

"Thank you, so do you. Look really good, I mean," you stutter over yourself.

Wanda blushes with a slight chuckle, "Thank you."

"Of course," you smile.

Tension lingered in the air as both of you had questions but had no idea how to ask them or if you even should.

Wanda is the one to break that tension.

"So, um, not that I'm not super happy to see you because I am, but what are you doing here?"

Excitement swirled inside, hearing that she was happy to see you.

"I, uh, I got a job here as a library media assistant. I will be working in the media center, you know, checking out books and teaching computer programs."

"Really? That's great. You always loved the school library. I remember how you used to beg me to bring the class at least twice a week."

"Yeah, I'm really excited about it."

While you were trying to be present in the conversation, you really had a one-track mind.

"Who's the woman that was standing outside the door with you?" you asked.

You can tell Wanda hadn't been expecting your question by the way her eyes widened.

"Oh um that's Natasha, After you graduated I started teaching a co-taught english class and well she's the co-teacher." She paused before confirming the suspicion you had earlier. 

"She's also my wife…" 

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

Lemme know whatcha thinkkkk

@nebthetautora @esposadejoyhuerta @w4ndsversew0nder

@skz-xii

[avatar-anna]

please please pleeeeeease more of assistant×harry!! 🥺

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

August 2013

In just a year of being Harry Styles’ assistant, Y/n had seen a lot, experienced a lot, and learned to expect just about anything, which was why her head began to throb before they even touched down in Las Vegas.

“Here,” a voice said from above her. Y/n was supposed to be answering emails and prepping for all the appearances Harry was supposed to make before the jet landed, but she decided to close her eyes. Just for a few minutes. Not that anyone would’ve noticed, anyway. The boys were all hanging out in the back of the plane, and Natalie, Zayn’s assistant, was watching the boys to make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble. All the assistants took turns when the boys of One Direction were in a confined space together; tag teaming just seemed the fairest deal.

When she peeked an eye open, though, she was surprised to see Harry standing beside her seat, a mug in his outstretched hand. Smiling, she took it, watching through tired eyes as he sat down across from her. He was in a red flannel shirt, though it was hardly buttoned, and the black skinny jeans he’d taken to wearing almost the entire tour. He had multiple pairs, all the same exact brand and style, just in case one ripped. Y/n would know. She had to race all over Manhattan when that very nightmare happened and Harry didn’t have any backups. Now there were at least four in his suitcase at all times. And an extra one in her backpack just to be safe. Harry swore the bag that followed her everywhere was made of magic because her whole life—and his—was nearly placed in there. But Y/n knew it wasn’t magic, she was just prepared for everything.

“I told the boys we’d be on our best behavior while we’re here. Just for you,” Harry said, giving Y/n his most innocent grin.

She’d seen that grin too many times to believe him, but the sentiment was nice. He and the boys were never menaces to her or the other assistants per day, but their antics did make her life more difficult depending on what they got up to. “That’s sweet of you.”

“I’m a sweet guy,” Harry said with a grin. Then with a nod toward Y/n’s phone, he asked, “Who’re you texting over there?”

“I’m not texting anyone. I’m sending emails,” she said.

“What? Even while we’re in the air?” he asked incredulously. “Do you ever not work?”

Y/n grinned. “Of course.”

“Well then put the phone down and talk to me. I feel like I've known you forever but I don't actually know you” Harry said, and it sounded like he was almost whining.

Y/n looked up from her phone. Harry’s eyes were pleading as he leaned forward in his seat. She was honestly a little surprised that he was so insistent that she talk to him. He was always nice of course, and they’d had brief conversations that didn’t involve work here and there, but Harry didn’t know much about Y/n personally. She kept her personal life private for the most part, for no other reason than she liked to keep things professional while she was working.

Setting her phone down, Y/n crossed her leg over the other and looked at Harry expectantly. "Alright. What would you like to know?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Y/n choked on the tea Harry had given her. "That's the question you want to start with?"

Harry shrugged before leaning in playfully. "Are you avoiding the question?"

"No. To both questions," she answered honestly.

"Hm."

"Hm? What's that supposed to mean?" Y/n asked. She thought they were having a lighthearted conversation but Harry looked contemplative.

"Why not?" he asked, not answering her question.

Y/n ran a tired hand over her face. "This is starting to feel like an interrogation, Mr. Styles."

"Sorry, sorry, I don't mean to pry," he said, leaning back in his seat. The playful gleam in his green eyes told Y/n differently, though. "I just feel like you know a lot of intimate details about my life, and all I know is that you like cinnamon bagels and have an affinity for wearing black. And you always manage to wake up before I do, which just seems outrageous to me sometimes."

Y/n pondered what he said and supposed he had a point. She did know a lot about Harry's relationships, or the intimate details of his life he referred to based on his line of questioning. But it was her job to know. She made sure he was up and ready each day, she ensured that no one night stands overstayed their welcome or helped themselves to his clothes after he was gone; she was privy to his PR dates and the ones he wanted no one else to know about. Their... relationship was one sided, and Y/n didn't fault him for his curiosity.

"You know how I take my tea, and that I drink tea at all," she finally said, her voice light.

Harry smiled, as if he'd been waiting to engage in whatever game he'd been trying to play with her since he sat down across from her. "I noticed you reach for the tea packets whenever we fly."

"It relaxes me," Y/n admitted.

"Do you not like flying?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to act more casual than she felt. "It's mostly the takeoff and landing. I don't know it just...freaks me out a little. All the jostling and pressure and whatnot."

"You picked a strange job if you don't like to fly, I'm afraid," Harry said.

"Hence the herbal tea. I'd take something a little stronger if I didn't think you boys would do something the minute my eyes were closed."

"We wouldn't—I would never—You can take a nap around us, Y/n," Harry said, frowning as if he were truly offended by what she said. "I know we like to pull pranks or whatever, but we wouldn't. I wouldn't let them do that to you."

His sincerity was sweet, his gaze hard and imploring. Y/n didn't mean for their conversation to turn down this route but somehow it did, and she couldn't help but notice how angular Harry's features were when he looked at her like that. Protective.

Something light and airy unfurled in her belly that she pointedly ignored.

"I was mostly kidding, but thank you."

And just like that, the hard look was gone, the tense fog lifted. Harry grinned and reached in his back pocket, pulling out a deck of cards. “Play with me?”

“You don’t want to play with the boys?” Y/n asked, genuinely curious.

“I need to practice for this weekend, and they’re not good enough competition.”

“Oh, and I am?” she said. Y/n knew how to play cards, but she wasn’t any kind of pro.

"We're about to find out."

Harry set the cards on the table between them and split the deck to shuffle them. Y/n watched his hands as the cards shuffled between his long, nimble fingers. There were calluses on them now from learning to play the guitar. He was a couple months in, and he was already pretty good. Harry often played the new songs or chords he learned for her, eager to show his progress and knowing she wouldn’t judge him when his fingers slipped from time to time.

When he finally stopped, Y/n realized she’d been openly staring at his hands for a little too long. She snapped her head up, thankful that Harry hadn’t caught her staring. Shuffling around in her seat, she asked, “What are we playing?”

*.*

Later that night, Y/n was alone in her hotel room. One Direction’s performance in Las Vegas went off without a hitch, and the boys had hit the Strip to celebrate. Harry insisted she join them, promising a night she would never forget, but she declined. She had plans of her own tonight.

Finishing the last touches on her hair and giving herself one last check in the mirror, Y/n grabbed her keys and her purse. A knock on the door sounded, and thinking it was Natalie, Y/n rushed to open it. When she did, her eyes widened.

“Mr. Styles? What are you doing here?”

Harry was in fact standing on the other side of her door, a bottle of champagne in one hand and the same deck of cards they’d played with on the plane in the other. They'd played until it was time for landing. Y/n had a large pile of candy by the end of it—Harry had wanted to play with real money but Y/n joked she couldn't afford to play real poker with him. And as the plane started to descend, Harry switched seats so that he was beside her, offered his hand for her to squeeze until the plane finally touched down. It had been the most tension-free landing of the tour for Y/n, and though neither of them said anything about it, Harry knew she was grateful for him being there.

He looked sheepish now as he took her in, the realization that she was on her way out striking him as he saw her clothes—a pair of jeans and a black button down top that was only buttoned in the middle, and black boots to match.

“Sorry, I wasn’t feeling up for going out tonight, so I came down here to—but of course you have plans. It’s your night off, you’re allowed to—”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Styles?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “Did you need me to call a doctor? Run down to the pharmacy? I can—”

“No, I…I came here to—to play cards again, but if you already have plans I won’t get in your way.”

Y/n’s head tilted to the side, partly confused and partly endeared. Harry was a kind boss, but he’d never come to her hotel room to hang out before, especially when parties and liquor were guaranteed elsewhere. The time she spent with him was strictly professional.

“Natalie and I had planned to go out tonight,” she said, looking down at her purse.

Y/n didn’t often go out while on tour, but Natalie knew someone that could get them into some exclusive rooftop bar with discounted drinks. She hadn’t had a night off in a while and thought it would be a fun and responsible way to spend her time in Vegas. But now that Harry was here…

“I can cancel—”

“Don’t you dare,” Harry said, stepping away from the door. His eyes trailing up and down her body in a way that didn’t feel entirely professional. A look Y/n chose to ignore. “I should’ve asked you earlier.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you could always come with us,” Y/n said.

She wasn’t sure how Natalie would feel about that. Her friend had made it clear that she wanted a night away from the boys of One Direction so she could let loose a little. But she didn’t want to just leave Harry on her doorstep.

“No, no, you go. I’m not in a partying mood tonight,” Harry said, waving Y/n off.

“If you’re sure,” she said.

“I’m sure.”

“Next time, then,” she offered.

Harry smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Then, before she could say anything else, Harry fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled out a couple bills and handed them to her. Y/n tried to protest, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, making sure he watched her put the money in her purse. “And take my driver too. There’s a lot of creeps out there. Dominic will take good care of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles,” Y/n said graciously.

“No problem, Y/n, and for the last time, it’s Harry.”

Y/n grinned as she let the door shut behind her. “Whatever you say, Mr. Styles.”

*.*

Y/n trudged through the halls of the lavish hotel, her boots shuffling tiredly across the carpet. She’d had a good night, but when Natalie and a group they’d met at the bar wanted to move onto a club, Y/n decided it was time to go. She had her fun, but she wasn’t the clubbing type, and she had to be up early the next morning.

And she couldn’t help but think about Harry sitting around in his hotel room all alone. She spent nearly every waking moment with him, and yet on her night off, she felt the need to go see him, be with him. Y/n enjoyed hanging out with Harry on the plane to Vegas. It had been the first time they’d interacted with each other in a non-professional way. He told her goofy jokes and playfully tried to peek at her cards, a look of genuine surprise when she beat him on more than one occasion.

For a moment, Y/n had actually forgotten that he wasn’t her boss and that she wasn’t his assistant. For a moment, they were just two friends going on a trip somewhere.

And for whatever reason, Y/n wanted to revisit that moment. She bypassed her floor’s button on the elevator, opting to press the one a few levels up from hers. The hall was quiet, which made sense if the other boys were still out. Harry told Y/n earlier that he wanted a quiet night in, but as she approached his door, she heard music and muffled voices from the other side. She had his extra key and would’ve been able to enter no problem, but when she made it to the double doors of Harry’s suite, she elected to knock. Maybe she should’ve left when she realized he had company, but she stayed, eager to see him for some reason.

It took a minute or two for someone to answer. With the music so loud, Y/n wasn’t surprised no one could hear her knock. She nearly gave up after knocking a third time, the door finally opened.

“Can I help you?”

It was a young man. A handsome young man with short brown hair and freckles over his nose and a deep skin tone. His eyes looked droopy, like he’d woken up just to answer the door. Or had recently smoked a joint. The latter was more likely.

“I’m Mr. Styles’ assistant. I just thought I would check in. He has an early morning tomorrow.”

“Oh. Um…He’s…busy?” the man said, clearly not wanting the fun to stop. “Should I get him for you?”

Y/n had never been in this predicament before. Sure, she knew Harry occasionally liked to invite someone into his hotel room for a night of fun, and this wasn’t the first time she’d found another boy keeping him company in this way. The first time that happened, Harry wouldn’t meet her eye for a whole day, but she never judged him for it, and she never said a word of it to him or anyone else. That was his personal business, not hers.

So the boy wasn’t what caught her off guard. It was that he was awake. Y/n always interacted with Harry’s one, sometimes two, night stands the morning after, equipped with a pen and an NDA, and possibly a sharp wit, depending on how reluctant the individual was to leave. But she’d never been in this position before, in the middle of it. She felt embarrassed, at a loss for words.

“N—No,” she finally said. “He just told me he wasn’t feeling well earlier. I thought I’d check on him before heading to bed, but…it seems like he’s feeling better.”

That’s and understatement, Y/n thought. She felt disappointed for some reason. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she really thought Harry would want to hang out, that he would somehow be waiting for her to come back, which was stupid. He had no reason to.

Y/n finally started to shuffle away, leaving Harry and his companion to his own devices. The door shut after the young man gave her a small smile and a wave, leaving her alone in an all too quiet hallway, the sounds of their voices muffled by the thin walls.

Sleep was in order. She knew that she was probably having an off day. Too much traveling, no doubt. Harry wasn’t her friend. She was his assistant, hired by his management team to make sure his every need and whim was met and sought to. Tomorrow she would wake up and remember that.

*.*

The next morning when Y/n stepped onto the plane, Harry was already seated in her little corner of the jet, a deck of cards, two steaming mugs, a multitude of snacks, and a big blanket were waiting. He didn't say anything about last night, so she didn't either. Not a word was said at all during takeoff, Harry merely offered his hand again, and when the plane was leveled in the air, he took out the deck of cards.

"Up for another round? This time Oreos are on the line so I'm less inclined to lose."

After that, plane rides weren't so bad anymore.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

A Delicate Flower

Martha Hudson may seem frail and vulnerable to people who don’t know her. Those who have made her acquaintance in one capacity or another, retracts their claim quite quickly. Even the British government has a secret appreciation for her. She’s a force of nature, just like her two tenants upstairs. Speaking of…

“NO! Absolutely not!” John shouts.

Martha picks up on Sherlock’s protest but not his exact words. Therefore, she hurries to grab a tin of biscuits to bring upstairs. It’s been silent for weeks, and she has begun to wonder if John has tamed Sherlock into a boring adult. 

When she emerges in the doorway to 221B, she regrets that she didn’t bring popcorn. Sherlock’s tantrum is at least a seven on Martha’s secret scale. (Mind you, not only consulting detectives have those.) 

“It’s my blog, John!” Sherlock exclaims. “To do with as I please. You’ve said it yourself that it’s too scientific. Adding you into the equation, will make it much more interesting. People want to know things about you too. I don’t understand why it bothers you to this extent.”

His hands have done significant damage to his curls. He looks like a mix between a deranged scientist and a petulant child. In Martha’s book he’s habitually both.

“Well, it does,” John counters defiantly.

The good doctor is childishly stubborn sometimes, but he rarely budges if the topic is important to him. More often than not, it’s the delicate flower of a genius that gives in when he realises that the battle is lost. And then, he craves the physical closeness only his army doctor can provide.

Martha looks around, trying to discover what the argument is about. When she realises what it is, she’s glad she didn’t choose the popcorn, or John would’ve needed to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre on her.

She stifles a laugh and Sherlock stares daggers at her. He actually stomps his feet like a toddler, and a choked sound escapes her throat.

Petri dishes with different ash samples are placed on the kitchen table. Each item is carefully marked. Martha only glimpses a few that are in her field of vision.

John’s shoelaces – Wool from John’s favourite jumper – John’s pants (the red/sexy ones)

Martha leaves the biscuit tin on the table and descends to 221A to indulge in her herbal soothers. 

Murmuring voices half an hour later tell her that peace has been restored. For now.

----------------------------------------------------------

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(Tell me if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

[sencrose]

— WHO ARE YOU, REALLY?

pairing: naoya zenin x f!reader, implied feelings involving naomaki

tags: dead dove do not eat. dubcon, angst?, reader is described as having a similar appearance to maki (mostly in hairstyle), incestuous undertones, physical abuse (against maki, sorry queen) established relationship, throatfucking, no prep, rough sex, pain during sex, (condescending) praise, hair pulling, internalized misogyny

wc: 3.2k

summary: You do not know what your husband sees in you. For better or worse, you learn.

a/n: back on my writing horrible things about naoya bullshit!! ngl this was weird to write but i also had a lot of fun with it. big thank you to @blueparadis for beta reading this for me <3 please read the tags and proceed with caution. ao3 link here

tagging: @pixelcafe-network @jellyfishsart

You do not know what your husband sees in you. 

It is not that you are without merit, but you are, simply put, plain. A weed in a field of flowers in full bloom. The diet that follows after a bad bout of the stomach flu. A satellite in the night sky that might be mistaken for a star — until it glides past far too quickly to be one, much to an onlooker’s disappointment. 

You know what power the Zen’in clan holds. The kind of power where even the most upstanding of sons will poison their fathers just for a taste. The paranoia that comes with it, the rumors of potential traitors whispered between paper doors is enough to keep anyone on edge. 

With all of that in mind, you know in your heart of hearts you are not the type of person the next head of the clan would pursue. 

Yet you were told he picked you out by hand, out of the dozens of matchmaking papers given to him. Applicants that began and ended on ink, their names, birthdays, and occupations, were discarded without a care of who they were,, or who they could have been. 

What an honor, you were told. 

So you packed up your things with a judgemental eye, preparing yourself for the worst when you arrive. Would they let you keep a stuffed animal that was a birthday gift from a friend, or is that too childish? What about this shirt — is it conservative enough or will it bring unwanted attention?

You left most things behind. 

—

Every now and then, you recall a conversation you had with your mother shared over a plate of cut fruit, shortly before you received the news from the Zen’in clan. It comes to you whenever you see the young girls rushing through the corridors, hands holding a stack of sheets that tower over them. 

“Do you have any dreams?” she asked, carving the skin of an apple, the crimson peel spiraling under her skillful thumb, “Ambitions?”

She tended to ask this now and then. It’s natural, you assumed; a mother’s desire to know anything and everything there is to know about their child. 

It’s hard to remember or keep track of all the answers you’ve given her. All you know is that they’ve become less ambitious over the years. From huffing your chest out and saying you’ll be an astronaut who lives out in the stars with the profound confidence only a child could have, to something less spectacular, more mundane. 

You didn’t have much luck becoming a sorcerer, which shrunk your options. Maybe you’d go to school. Maybe get a degree, get some kind of corporate job, waste your life away in a gray office cubicle. 

But none of those are dreams. Obligations, perhaps.

“No, not really,” you replied, detached from the conversation. It was the truth. 

She patted you on the back, comfortingly. “Ah, that’s a good thing. You don’t want to be greedy.”

You still don’t know what she meant by that, but you also made no effort to ask for clarification. The words simmered low and steady until it burned and branded itself in your head.

As if to pull you out of your thoughts, your mother handed you a slice, an offering. Despite her words, you wondered if it was consolation. 

—

Even after some time has passed since your arrival, you do not know what your husband sees in you. You’re not sure he sees you at all. 

His touch is few and far between. 

To your surprise, on the night of your wedding you did not consummate your marriage. It happened two weeks after, and it was not what you expected from someone who had supposedly picked you out on his own accord. 

It was anything but gentle. You learned quickly that Naoya Zen’in is not a patient man.

Rough hands were grabbing anywhere, everywhere. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was trying to devour you. 

Nothing placated him. When you gazed up at him teary-eyed with soft pleas to go slower, you only made things worse. Hands grabbed onto your form to flip you over, push your face into the sheets so he didn’t have to hear your protests. Fingers pressed deep into the dip of your waist, so hard you worried about bruises forming (they did). 

Once he got what he wanted out of you, he tossed you to the side. As if you were some random girl he just happened to pick up for the night, someone he hoped would be gone come morning. 

As if you weren’t his wife. 

It was the first time in a long time that you realized, maybe, you had wants. Desires. To do something instead of having something done onto you. 

But your mother’s words haunt you. 

You don’t want to be greedy. 

—

For the first time since arriving at the estate, you have a hint of what your husband sees in you.

You don’t think you’re supposed to see it. You don’t think you’re supposed to be here at all.  

A girl lies on the floor of the open courtyard, her head underneath Naoya’s heel.

It’s like looking into a mirror, though a bit distorted. The image is similar, but the puzzle pieces filling in the gaps are all different.

Her hair is much like yours, though the strands that frame her face hang like blades, sharpened, ready to cut anyone who gets too close. 

You don’t have that type of intensity around you. The pieces of hair that frame your face soften your features. Wispy, uncertain shapes that blow away with the slightest puff of wind. 

The similarities start and end there. 

Though she’s younger than you, she wears a hardened expression, one you always thought would come to you with age. You realize now that you must’ve had it easy when you see how she wears it like it’s all she’s ever known. 

Although you go unnoticed by your husband, the girl acknowledges your presence. Her gaze meets yours, fury ablaze in her eyes, along with something else you don’t recognize. Your legs react before you even realize, taking a step back. 

Even with her body pressed into the ground in submission, you can tell she is anything but. It’s written candidly on her face, teeth bared to the world, begging for flesh to dig into.

Your husband must be a blind fool. Even you can see from a distance that she’s a wild animal in human form, just waiting for a chance to break the chains of her enclosure. You feel it in her stare, how she strips you down to a state even Naoya hasn’t witnessed. You don’t like it. How her eyes hone in on you like a lion staring down its prey.

Then again, would you even be considered prey? Even a rabbit has a fighting chance at running away. You do not know how to run. Not towards a goal, and certainly not away from danger.

But you can still walk. Walk while you can and you can forget you’ve ever seen this. Stuff it back in the recesses of your mind, back where you wrote off wants and desires and greed all those years ago.

You don’t walk away fast enough.

When you hear her name slip from your husband’s lips, your stomach freefalls. 

You haven’t been at the estate for long, but you know of her. Everyone does. You just never had the chance to put a name to a face. Maki Zen’in, one half of the clan disappointment, alongside her twin sister. It goes without saying that you also know of the ties that connect them.

You know your husband is a cruel man. He has to be; it’s practically a requirement for someone of his power and status. But it’s hard to watch when it’s laid out so plainly in front of you. Even so, you stay.

You watch with a tightness in your chest as he pulls her up by the base of her ponytail before throwing her back onto the ground, gravel and dust dispersed in the air from the impact.

Anger lights a fire in his eyes. No matter what he does, he doesn’t seem to get the reaction he wants, or much of a reaction at all. She takes it in stride, only emitting hushed grunts when he kicks her. While you flinch at the volume of his voice rising, she boldly sneers at his frustration.

You meet her eyes again. 

She laughs. 

It isn’t to piss off Naoya. No, it’s directed at you. The bystander who’ll go on with her day like nothing ever happened, even after witnessing the horrific abuse doled out at the hands of her husband.

Even though she doesn’t hold an ounce of cursed energy in her veins, you know what she thinks of you. You hear it in the dry chuckle she lets out before Naoya kicks her again.

You’re cursed. 

How pitiful. 

—

You’re sure he’s ranting about something, maybe something Naobito did, but you can’t bring yourself to listen to him. All you can think about is the girl in the courtyard, with an ire in her eyes you’ve never seen before. When was the last time you looked like that? Felt something so intense it radiated off of your very being, so bright and radiant it couldn’t be ignored? Have you ever had that kind of fighting spirit in you?

A stagnant silence brings you back. You vacantly stare back at your husband. It was your turn to speak for once. You perk up at the opportunity, though you’re unsure how to seize it.

“Sorry. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“Well that’s the thing, isn’t it? You don’t need to say anything. C’mere.”

He pulls you in closer, his hand petting your head. It’s the only time he shows any semblance of gentleness, a cruel way of lulling you into a false sense of security. You know what comes next. His hand presses against your head, lower, lower, until you’re nestled against his crotch. Naoya looks at you, expectantly. 

Your fingers wrap around the cotton ties that hold his hakama pants, pulling with a tug. From there, the fabric falls easily, more so once you reach around his waist to undo the tension from the straps. 

You steel yourself to do what you’ve always done, though something sits in the back of your mind. 

You get him to groan with a long stroke of your tongue on the underside of his cock. Build yourself up to taking his entire length into his mouth, inch by dreadful inch, but it’s hard. By the time you swallow him whole, you can feel his tip pressing against the back of your throat. You do your best to service him at a pace he’d be satisfied with, one you know is out of your skillset, dribbling spit and coughing softly whenever you go too deep.

But Naoya isn’t satisfied. He’s impatient, his fingers weaving through your hair, pulling tight before he quickens your pace to his own liking. It’s something you still haven’t gotten used to. The burning in your eyes, the gross wet sounds that leave your mouth as he bobs your head up and down like a toy.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. Take me in so well, don’t you?” His grip around your hair tightens.

He continues recklessly fucking your throat, ignoring all of the choked cough and garbled yelps you let out whenever he hits the back of your throat. All you can do is take it, ball your fists and fold your thumbs in, and hope that trick you learned about reducing your gag reflex isn’t just some urban legend.

Naoya removes yourself from him as roughly as he places you onto him. The rush of air is both a welcome one and sudden change, and you gasp and cough at the sensation.

“Wife,” He brandishes the title like a weapon, the blade of a dagger pressed against your neck.

“Tie your hair up for me, won’t you?” he poses it as a question, but you know you have no choice in the matter. 

Time freezes.

Your eyes shift and you find yourself fiddling with your fingers, hoping he will change his mind if you look up at him with a disarming plea in your eyes, but his gaze does not falter. His eyes only get darker, a dangerous amber that glows like a warning sign in the lowlight of your shared chamber, as he awaits you to fulfill his request. 

Maybe your husband doesn’t see you, but you have always seen him for who he is, even if you didn’t want to admit it. It shines more than ever, when he tilts his head and the corners of his lips upturn. A snake carefully wrapping itself around a rat, just one good squeeze away from keeping you in his clutches forever. Once again, you’re trapped and frozen with nowhere to go. Unfortunately, you play your part well without trying.

You shouldn’t be surprised. It probably runs in their blood.

Slowly, you tie your hair up, strands spilling between your fingertips as you pick them up again, gathering and pulling through the hair only halfway through the elastic, an unstable, floppy bun.

You don’t want to be greedy.

A ghost of unspoken words from your mother whispers against your ear, and maybe if you caught on a bit sooner, things would be different. What was she trying to tell you? What did she hold behind her tongue so cautiously?

Because that’s not how I raised you?

Because that’s not a woman’s place?

Because that’s not what makes a good wife?

But none of it sounds quite right.

And though the thoughts swirl and cloud your head, something else rings bright and clear through the murkiness. 

You want. You want to be wrong. You want it with an intensity you’ve never felt before in your life, a desire clawing its way out of your chest, desperate to see the light of day. 

It’s a good thing. You don’t want to be greedy.

Naoya gently tugs on the loop of hair with his fingers, almost intimately, and it makes your stomach curl. He pulls apart the strands in half to tighten it, until a ponytail reminiscent of the one you saw earlier today sits on top of your head. 

It is only in this moment the clouds in your mind disperse, the addendum your mother wanted to add clear as day.

Because all you will be left with is disappointment.

Even though you’re filled with unease, you follow his lead because it’s all you’ve ever known. He pulls on the waistband of your skirt before pushing his hand against your back, getting you in position to arch for him. 

His fingers drag against your slit, before sliding two of them inside your hole, ignoring any initial resistance. Another thing you learned about your husband is that he’s a determined man; to your dismay, it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t fit, he’ll make it fit. Even the stretch of his digits is uncomfortable, scissoring them inside you just to hear you whine under his touch. You wince when he withdraws them, tighten up when you feel something hot and hard pressed against you.

There’s no getting used to his size. Even if he took the time to prepare you properly, you’re sure it would still hurt – if not at the initial penetration, then at the frenzied thrusts that come shortly after. His plump cockhead nudges teasingly against your hole, poking and proding before pulling away. He likes to keep you on your toes, hear you whimper when he surprises you a rough thrust. 

Something about him seems more impatient than usual.

He pushes himself into you, and you bite down on your lip as he splits your walls apart in one swift movement. Over the course of your marriage, you’ve learned to wait out the pain, keep your breathing steady until he starts to move. But his pace never stays slow for long. It’s only a short moment before his hips slam into yours faster and you have to weave through the sheets and grip for stability.

“Naoya, ‘s too much,” you whine, voice high pitched and on the edge of sounding needy.

Without warning his hands wrap around your ponytail and he pulls tight. The sharp pain makes you wince, arch your back until you’re pressed flush against his chest.

“Talking back, are we?” he quips back.

“No, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say, hushed and quiet. 

You don’t think he accepts your apology, not when he tugs a bit harder and gives you a thrust so deep it knocks the air out of your lungs. Whether he accepts it or not, he’s still enjoying himself. You hear it in the groans he lets out whenever he hits you deep inside and you moan at the impact, feel it in the way his other hand kneads your breast before giving your nipple a tug.

“You like this, don’t you?”

You wonder if his words are actually directed towards you, but you don’t think too hard about your response, falling back on your default mode of placating him.

“Mhm,” you hum softly.

“Then you won’t mind if I go harder, right?” he asks, but he doesn’t give you a chance to respond. There’s no smooth transition, he simply goes straight into fucking you harder.

His pace is dizzying, the slap of skin-to-skin echoing throughout the room as he fucks you.

He only gets louder and more desperate as his hips slam into yours. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this before. It makes your mind race, makes you wonder if he’s holding back his tongue to call out another name whenever he hums a bit too long in pleasure. Each sound he makes causes your heart to skip in terror and anticipation, but you never hear it. Still, it trembles. 

“Be a bit louder for me, ok?” he whispers in the shell of your ear. His hand traces down from your chest to your waist, lower until it reaches your aching clit. “I’ll even treat you tonight.”

The unexpected contact pushes you further into him, sends a shiver of tension up your spine. You don’t want to admit the pleasure boiling up in you, not like this, but your body doesn’t give you much of a choice. Your lips are the first line of defense to fall, high pitched moans you don’t recognize spilling so easily, naturally, as if it’s water leaking from a faucet.

Maybe he thinks you’re enjoying yourself just a bit too much, because the grip on your hair tightens once again. But it doesn’t stop the rush of warmth building up in your stomach, from your muscles tightening to prepare for your impending climax.

“Nao, I’m close, I’m close-”

Shame washes over you along with your orgasm, walls fluttering against his cock, as he fucks you through it. Naoya’s own climax follows shortly after yours, his hips thrusting harder until he stills with a shaky groan. 

Only once he removes himself from you, you collapse on to the bed, body spent. You cautiously reach for the hair tie, looking over at Naoya as you pull it out with a soft tug. He doesn’t stop you. 

You know what your husband sees in you.

You wish you didn’t see it too. 

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [3]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but what you can't do is accept the fact that they're your soulmates.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory

Words: 8.8k

ao3 is down so I'll update it first here. Chapter got delayed since this wasn't originally part of the roster. its currently 1am so there will be mistakes I missed but that's for future Winter's problem.

edit: please comment if you want to be added to the tag list :DD

[1] [2] [3]

__________

For a guy with his heart on his sleeves and his emotions displayed so loudly on his face like neon signs with gigantic arrows, Taehyung is an enigma.

It didn’t help that he had experience in acting, if anything it made it harder to understand him.

One moment he's supportive of your quest for a perfect husband then another, he's raging with a jealousy even the power of the thousand burning suns couldn't replicate. Even when Guwon has long disappeared, Taehyung didn't stop from hanging off of your arm when the three of you had entered your home. 

In the short time they had stayed over, he made sure he was somehow close to you or having you within his sight while Jimin returned to being the sweet boy he had always presented himself as but the glint of something dark in his eyes never disappeared.

But it didn't make any sense. All of their behaviors, even Jimin, is confusing.

Taehyung had introduced a date to the group before, and had hooked up with a few people from the after-parties if the others’ words were anything to go by. Jimin is the same, although he took every chance to flirt with you at any time and everywhere, you always thought it was him being his playful self. But after last night?

You don't know.

And you hate not knowing.

To find out that Jin still liked you was shocking already, then comes this new realization—along with the impacts of Jungkook’s confession—to knock you off of your feet. You thought he had moved on like he had said years before, but last night's conversation had told you otherwise.

“That's the tenth time I've heard you sigh just this hour alone and we're only drinking coffee, what’s wrong?”

Your head shot up to meet the concerned gaze of the oldest make-up artist. Jihae is one of the original staff back from 2013, the woman who had picked you up when you tripped in front of the BigHit building crying with your bag spilled out, having been given a low grade in one of your subjects. 

They were lacking in staff back then, urgently searching for another body to help with the debut look and when she saw your cosmetic bag, she tugged you inside and told you to agree with whatever they were going to ask. 

Stunned, you followed the woman without question.

A month later, you dropped out of the nursing course your mother had insisted you take and pursued cosmetology.

Many times have you looked back at the memory and grimaced. It could've gone wrong, she might've been leading you into a trafficking ring but nonetheless, you're glad you had accepted it.

All because Jihae had seen you with mascara-stained tears and somehow deemed you skilled enough for the job. Up until today, you still wonder what she had seen in an emotional teenager who had comically tripped face-first in the company’s front yard, mascara running down her face and thought: ‘She’d be a good addition’ . 

Whatever it is, you're thankful. 

“Hey, you still with us?”

Snapping out of your trance, you wearily smiled at her. “Yes I am, unnie. Just frustrated about something...”

At this, multiple heads turned to you, their stares a varying mix of curiosity and teasing. Suddenly reminded of the group lunch Jihae had proposed that day, a bonding exercise for the entire make-up artists roster, for better teamwork, she had said and internally facepalmed. You had forgotten that it wasn't just your friends sitting on the table with you and you had just aired your problem out in the open for them to hear.

Fuck Kim Taehyung and his confusing attitude. You should beat his ass next time you see him for being the catalyst to the dilemma haunting your mind.

Leaning closer to you, Nabi—another friend of yours—crossed her arms and flashed a shit-eating grin.

“Is it boy problems?”

Instantly, the table explodes into chatters, all of their questions drowning each other.

“Which one of them?”

“Did someone from Bangtan confess to you, unnie?”

“Is it Hoseok? Please say it is! I have a bet with someone from the styling department.”

“Was it Taehyung? I always thought he had a crush on you for a whi—”

“It's not any of them, please we're just friends.” You interjected before they dig further and find truth in their questions. “It's a different guy I've had two dates with.”

Never had you sounded more unsure of yourself until now and you had wished nobody had noticed. But one look around the table says differently. Your friends’ eyes glinted, all of them telling you that this discussion was far from over and you find yourself already dreading opening the groupchat once you're home. But unlike them, someone wasn't satisfied with your answer and crossed her arms from the other end of the table.

“Why so dismissive, unnie? We're all friends here, no need to be so defensive.”

Immediately, the ones closest to her snapped their heads at her with a scandalized look. Alexa was a new recruit, A half-Korean and half-Chinese who lived in the States for a better half of her life, had just joined the week before the first leg when one of the crew went into labor and had recommended her cousin as her last minute replacement until she could return.

In the short time she had been in the company, there had been whispers and none of them were positive. Rumors of an unhealthy obsession hidden beneath the skillfully applied make-up that granted her a younger and cuter appearance, hushed stories of their encounters where she'd reveal her soulmate mark—inked initials, and written on her wrist is a K.S.J, something she boasted around with a smug look, as if to imply something you refuse to entertain.

It was absurd. 

Seokjin was untethered, if he got a soulmate mark out in the open, he would've screamed it on top of the world. Delighted and in cloud nine at the thought of having someone destined for him. Not to mention, it meant that he didn't need to go through any of the shit you've gone through, going through dates after dates looking for someone better to settle down with only to be met with constant disappointment at the end of the day.

(You'd also be the first to know. He would've ran to you and asked if you manifested a mark too, but for your sanity, you pushed the thought at the back of your head as soon as it came.)

To say, to imply that Seokjin’s soulmate is the kid on the side of the table, it almost made you grimace.

“Hey Alexa, I know you're just new and a foreigner but that doesn't mean we'd let you disrespect your seniors!” Minhyuk, someone who had quickly wormed into your friend group last year, had jumped to your defense.

Alexa scoffed. “I'm just saying, no need to be so secretive, unnie. Everyone in this table knows how close Bangtan is to you. Everyone is wondering if you've at least dated one of them.”

“Hey Alexa, that's a bit…”

“Why are you guys looking at me like that? I'm just saying what you're all thinking,” She looks back at you. “I've seen how they look at you, surely you've at least had a fling with someone.”

Your brows shot up, incredulous and shocked by her audacity but before you could bite back, Minhyuk stood abruptly, face darkened with pure unadulterated anger.

“Oh this—” Nabi and you were quick to tug him back down to sit. 

At the commotion, everyone in the cafeteria shifted their attention to your table, inquisitive and curious of what might've set off the resident social butterfly, someone who everyone knows the name of and has been at the end of his constant kindness.

Minhyuk is a passionate soul, especially towards his job and friends. Having been kicked out for being himself, he turned to the very skill that had his father screaming expletives at him. Recommended by Jihae, who had been visiting a nearby friend at the time and was passing by his street, had found him crying in the rain, outside the gate of his family house. She had taken him home and the rest was history.

There's never been a time when you've all hung out, five emptied bottles of Sojus later, where he wouldn't be crying, thankful for the chance your eldest had given him before turning to you, sobbing loudly and hugging you and the rest of the group in a tight grip. Heart full of gratefulness for his new found family.

So there was no shock that he had been the first one to jump at the first sign of aggression towards your group.

“Everyone is looking, hyuk. Let's calm down.” Nabi whispered to him, eyes cautious and Minhyuk grunted.

“She's lucky we're in public, I would've torn her down for that comment.”

At the end of the table, Alexa scoffed, incredulous. “Are you seriously mad that I'm saying my opinion? Is it a crime to express their own opinion these days?”

“Not when it's as rude as yours.”

Jihae sighs. “Calm down the both of you. Remember that you're working right now.”

You didn't doubt that everyone in the company has speculated about your relationship with Bangtan. It's hard not to when the maknaes hang onto your words and comfortably play around with you, especially not when you have dinner at their dorm every other week so you didn't blame the newbie for being curious.

That's what you would've felt if she hadn't been going around planting ideas into people's heads that she might be Jin’s soulmate like the delusional slug she is.

You had half a mind to loosen your grip on Minhyuk and let him wipe the floor with her unnecessarily expensive work clothes.

Shrugging both your and Nabi’s arms from his, Minhyuk stands up again only to walk away from the table. Instantly, the rest of your group follows him as he marches through the gathered crowd in the cafeteria and in front of the closed elevator.

You trailed behind him, waiting for his eventual frustrated explosion as he always does after an encounter with Alexa since she was hired. Once you were all far enough, hidden away from the prying eyes of the public, he threw his head back and let out a loud, exasperated groan.

“That girl I fucking swear!” He growled as combed his long hair back. “Why did we even let her continue working after the tour?! We could've just found a better alternative, she's getting into my fucking nerves!”

Nabi sighed. “It's not like we have a final say in this, hyuk. Whether you like it or not, we'll be stuck with her until Hyuna comes back.”

“God,” He groaned. “You should've let me hit her once! I'm so tired of hearing her bullshit! Surely, you've heard the lie she's spreading around right?!”

“Like Nabi has said, we can't do anything unless it starts to hurt the reputation of the idol. She's smart for not saying it outright and somehow containing it within the styling departments.” Jihae responds with a defeated shake of her head.

The answer didn't satisfy Minhyuk, who then turned to you with a pout and wide puppy eyes before promptly stomping over and taking both your hands in his.

“Surely you can pull some strings, noona? Tattle off to Namjoon hyung or Seokjin hyung, surely one of them would do something, right?”

You almost considered his suggestion. Alexa had been grating your gears ever since she arrived to replace Hyuna. You had excused her lack of cooperation with the team for being a newbie and clumsy mistakes of haphazardly leaving her items everywhere for the stress of the new environment she was suddenly put in. But for her to go around implying Seokjin is her soulmate is another can of worms you didn't even want to open.

The mere thought of her existing on the same floor as Seokjin invokes an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach.

But unfortunately, even if you had tattled to Namjoon about her, nothing would happen since it's not too drastic of an event to fire someone over for. It's also just not a good idea overall. The tour is set next Wednesday and while Alexa doesn't cooperate with most of the team, she unfortunately got the skill to back her up. Her skills nearly compensate for her rude personality.

Almost.

“They won't fire someone over a small argument, Hyuk. Just suck it in until Hyuna returns.”

“Which will be in December after Japan,” He mulls it over before shaking his head. “Yeah no, I don't think I can tolerate her nasty ass that long.”

The elevator opens—Jihae had called it the moment they've arrived, bless her—and everyone piles in. It was a quick ride, the stylists being on the floor below the cafeteria. In a flash the metal doors parts opened and you all walked out. But before you could follow your friends back into your department, your phone vibrated from your pocket.

Slowing down, you pulled the device out and looked at who's texting you.

           [13:02] Hobi: can ask you a favor

           [13:02] Hobi: just an itsy bitsy favor 🤏🤏

           [13:02] Hobi: I promise it's harmless😁

There's also a text from Guwon not too long ago. Something you missed while you were lost in your thoughts earlier.

           [12:30] Guwon: Eat your lunch soon!

           [13:03] You: hi sorry late reply, I was having lunch with my co-workers, couldn’t use my phone during.

           [13:03] You: I hope your lunch was good😁

You briefly grimaced at how robotic your reply sounded before returning to Hoseok who had sent another text.

           [13:03] Hobi: don't leave me on seen please😢

           [13:03] Hobi: noona noona noona noona noona

           [13:04] You: hoba hoba hoba hoba hoba

           [13:04] Hobi: YAY

           [13:04] You: how can I help you?

           [13:05] Hobi: can you deliver lunch to hyung?😁

           [13:05] Hobi: I would do it myself but I'm currently helping Seokjin hyung and Namjoon with the dance

           [13:06] Hobi: and we both know Yoongi hyung wouldn't eat on time if I do it

           [13:06] Hobi: can you do it for me?🥺

           [13:06] You: sure, you guys still in the dance practice room?

           [13:07] Hobi: ur a life saver

           [13:07] Hobi: an angel in disguise

           [13:07] Hobi: but yes😁

           [13:08] Hobi: just knock on the door when you're here😁

“Y/N?” Jihae asks and you look back up to see your group waiting for you.

“Who is it?” Nabi adds.

“Better be news of Alexa getting fired. If not, I don't want to hear it.” Minhyuk says as he crosses his arms. You shook your head and he threw his hands up in frustration.

“Got asked to help with something but I'll be back in a moment.”

With a brief goodbye, you turned back to the elevator and directed yourself to the floor where the dance practice rooms are at. 

The walking distance from the elevator is not too far from the dance room but seeing five familiar teenage boys speaking in hushed whispers and hitting each other's arms in front of the vending machine just a feet away from the door easily distracted you.

If they had been crowding around the machine, you would've thought they were fighting over the last snack but instead they were all facing the same direction as your destination.

Sneaking up to the five giants, you're slowly introduced to the dilemma they were hitting and pushing each other for.

“You're the oldest, you should go and knock!”

“Just because I'm the oldest doesn't mean I should always be the first! Why are you even ordering me around?! Go ask Huening Kai instead!”

“Why me? I can't talk in Korean, I-I’m foreigner .”

“Oh don't you pull that shit on us. How are you only a foreigner when it matters?!”

“What are we talking about?”

Three shrill screams pierced through the air as the five of them jumped back, awkwardly long bodies falling against and clutching onto each other for dear life, all of them huddling onto the next body for protection. But once they recognize you, Yeonjun immediately regains composure and breaks off from the cluster to stomp over to you with his bottom lip jut out as he dramatically latches onto your arm.

“Noonaa, why would you scare us like that?!”

When you first met Yeonjun, he was standing in front of the cafeteria bar in front of the exhausted cashier and the long irritated line of workers, peering up onto the menu before looking down to count his money. He looked like a little kid lost in the sea of busy adults, painfully alone and helpless as the hungry customers behind him began to complain loudly.

He had been holding up the line as he recounted his change once more, hoping he had miscounted and that he could afford what he was eyeing. Seeing his hopeful expression crumble into defeat was enough to make you approach him and buy him lunch. 

Yoongi had teased you when he found you being trailed by another kid, saying you were collecting every doe eyed kid in the company and becoming their reliable older sister. Especially when his soulmates began to follow his footsteps.

“What were you guys doing? Fighting against who gets the last chip?”

Beomgyu then ran to wrap his arms around yours, the sweetest and most innocent smile plastered on his face as the two boys began to walk you forward, the destination? The dance studio.

“You know that we love you right, noona?”

Why these kids are genuinely intimidated by your sweet Hoba is beyond you. The man screams and flinches at the smallest of bugs daring to exist two feet away from him. Still, you entertained them with a raise of an eyebrow and Yeonjun continued.

“Our favorite make-up noona, the greatest sister figure we have ever had, my savior and my salvation, our dearest credit—”

“Okay, what do you guys want?”

You all stopped in front of the dance room door. IDOL was blasting on the other side of the wall, the floor vibrating with the beat. Although muffled, you could pick up the sound of shoes squeaking against the floor and heavy footsteps accompanying the song.

“Could you pretty please knock on the door?” Beomgyu asks, pleading and also hopeful and the rest of his brothers chimed from behind you with their own versions of the request which ended up sounding like a bunch of warbled words.

“Couldn't you have done that yourselves?”

“But they're busy and J-Hope sunbae is scary.” Taehyun quietly adds behind you.

“Hoba? He's the sweetest though?”

“Okay, let's not lie to ourselves now,” Huening Kai shoots back before motioning to the door. “Just… knock and we'll handle it from there. We promise!”

“Cross our hearts.” Taehyun says, drawing  a cross over his chest. The other four follow.

Dance teacher Hoseok to you is a hoax. You've never been subjected to his intense scrutiny and harsh perfectionist side, always managing to slip past or only being able to meet him outside of the workplace where he'd be far relaxed and cheerful. 

Sure there's been plenty of photographic and recorded evidence posted in the group chat but you still find it hard to believe he's more frightening than the bugs that scare him off the room.

“He's not that scary, guys.”

Taehyun scoffs. “Easy for you to say.”

“Crush privileges.” Soobin quietly adds.

“What—”

The door swings open before you could ask what he meant and Jungkook steps out of the room. 

In a span of a second, the memories of his drunken confession flashed before your eyes. From the moment he had entered your home with bags of snacks to the way his voice had sounded, hushed and shaky, when he asked you for a kiss.

Seeing him again outside the concert where Namjoon and Yoongi had made sure there were no contacts between the two of you, evoked a weird sense of longing within you. Having absolutely no contact with Jungkook for two days had you missing and recollecting your past memories with him. In the short amount of time you've been away, you wondered about many things.

From something as headache-inducing variations of hows and whys questioning his attraction to you to something more simple and short like ‘how is he feeling right now?’.

It was a dumb question with an obvious answer yet you wanted to know. Curiosity and anxiety clawing at your chest. 

Is your friendship still okay? 

Did rejecting someone this time finally ruin your entire dynamic with the group? 

Should you have chosen someone as your sister had told you to do? 

They have plagued your mind and haunted you in your waking days yet the moment you finally see him, your mouth dries up and your voice dies in your throat.

But before you could even muster the courage to talk to him, he turned his attention to the boys who had retreated behind you the moment the door opened and greeted them with a short bow before walking away, completely ignoring you. Pain blooms in your chest like a thorned vine wrapping and strangling your heart tighter and tighter as you watch his back disappear around the corner.

“Did sunbae just ignore noona?”

“Is that even possible?”

“I didn't hallucinate that, right?”

“Noona, are you okay?” Soobin’s concerned voice, soft and cautious, brings you back to reality and you turn to them, a precariously built smile on your face.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The five shared a look as you stepped into the studio, exposing you to the two figures laid on the floor, heaving and panting. The main topics of your thoughts sitting at the far corner next to the black plastic table while Hoseok stood in the middle of the room, unaffected by whatever had happened and was chugging the water from the small bottle in hand.

As if he had grown a sixth sense for you, he suddenly spun around, a wide grin brightening his stern face.

“Noona!”

At this, the two men on the floor perks up. Namjoon merely waves before promptly dropping back down, Jimin and Taehyung only smiled at you, looking spent from whatever routine Hoseok had them do before turning to the two tallest. Seokjin had pushed himself up to stand and approach the black plastic table from the other end of the room where a dozen take outs were.

As Hoseok approached you, his gaze then found the cluster of five heads peeking through the sides of the entrance and laughed.

“You’ve got five ducklings following you, noona, didn't know you started collecting more after our maknaes.” He jokes before turning to the teens and waving them over. The group then spread to occupy the space in the doorway and bowed. “What can I do for you guys?”

They suddenly disappear behind the wall but you hear them hitting each other and their whisper-shouts, it took a long while before Soobin was pushed out of the shadow and forced to talk to their sunbae. The painfully shy teen shuffles over, shoulders folded forward and taking the smallest of steps forward before stuttering a bow.

A wide smile brightens Hoseok's face, endeared by the boy’s overly formal actions.

“H-Hi sunbae.”

“Hello, Soobinie.”

“We-we we're just wondering if we-we could watch you guys? Practicing dancing I mean—Not that you sunbaes need it cause you're professionals!—I mean of course you still need to practice to be better at dancing and—wait no—”

“ Yah Soobin, stop embarrassing us like this!” Yeonjun scolds and immediately, the boy almost broke his neck with how face he looked over his shoulder.

“Then go do it yourself!”

“We don't mind, as long as you guys stay in a corner like good kids then we'll all be good!” Hoseok cuts in before an argument ensues.

There's a tap on your shoulder and you look over to see Seokjin standing behind you, a gentle smile playing on his plush lips, both hands hidden behind him.

There's an awkwardness that hung in the air as you both gazed into each other's eyes before he cleared his throat and began.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes.” You lie. Jin caught it.

Turning to face him fully, he then takes one of your hands and forces your fingers to hold the neatly folded top of a paper takeout bag.

“I've packed Yoongi’s portion here as well as an extra for you.”

“You didn't need to, I already ate.”

“I even had them order some soft tofu soup, you were craving it last week, right?”

It was sweet being loved so selflessly by him. It tasted like the sweetest nectar from the garden of Eden with a foul aftertaste once your mind reminded you of your sins against the man and the thorned tendrils of guilt coiled tighter around your chest, its sourness easily overlapping the sweetness of his love.

After Jungkook pretending you didn't exist earlier, having Jin, someone who you didn't even know still admired you all these years while you had messed around with many faces and came to work with some of their marks on your skin, expressing his care had you almost bursting at the seams. 

It enrages you thinking about Alexa going around spreading her bullshit spiel about being Jin’s soulmate. As if she deserved a morsel of his attention.

Nobody deserves Seokjin, not even you.

“Thank you Jinnie, but I already ate.” You then remembered your promise to return to your friends soon. “And Jihae is expecting me back immediately.”

“Coffee and toast is not lunch.” He deadpans as he takes your hand and forces it to close around the pack. “Just eat it with Yoongi, he'd be happy to be able to eat with someone and I’ll handle Jihae noona.”

“How the hell did you know what I had for lunch?”

Shock crossed over his face and he brought a hand over his mouth. “I was right? I just had a hunch on what you ate.”

“That’s a bit creepy, old man.”

“Maybe it’s a soulmate mark manifesting.” He shrugs but you doubt he meant it in a joking way.

“You’re way past the age, give it up hyung.” 

You both turned to the door at Jungkook’s voice. Like earlier, he had strode in without acknowledging your presence, something Seokjin had noticed immediately. His eyes slid to the five boys tentatively pushing each other to the empty corner of the studio before looking back at their youngest.

“How could you insult me like this? I fed you with my hands, you should be addressing me formally with a full 90° bow!” 

“I should’ve bitten your hands at least once back then.” Jungkook jokingly muses.

Before you could witness their banter explode, there’s a tug on your shirt and you spun around to face Hoseok who had nudged his head to the door. Jin had already marched towards the maknae before you could even thank him so you left.

Once you were both outside the studio, Hoseok closed the door behind and hugged you.

“Wh-what is this?”

“A thank you hug for being the sacrifice and feeding the grumpy dragon instead.” He says with a laugh but you knew what he was trying to do. It was in the way he tried soothing you with back rubs and this tight hug.

“I’m fine, Hoba. I didn’t expect us to be buddy buddy again after what happened.”

He sighed.

“He still shouldn’t have done that. I’m sure Seokjin hyung will talk to him about it later.”

Stepping back, you shook your head. “No need, I understand why he’s acting like that.”

His eyes regarded your face for a moment before pulling you back in for a hug and nuzzling his head on top of yours. “You don’t have to defend him noona, he’s acting like a child. It's our duty as his hyungs to fix that up.”

“Please don’t. It feels like you’re taking sides, he might think it's unfair.”

He laughs. “Are you kidding? ‘Cause from what I’m seeing, he’s being a petulant child. He should handle the rejection with more grace when it's his fault he’s in this predicament. You know Seokjin hyung warned him, right?”

“He told me when he and Tae took him home.”

“Then you should know better than defend him.” You opened your mouth to refute but he pressed a finger to your lips. “Don't start. He's not the same sixteen years old we had to raise back then, he needs correcting.”

With two hands on your shoulders, he then spun you around and began to push you towards the elevator, leaving no room for an argument. 

Once he had led you back to the locomotive, he briefly stepped in to push the correct button for the production floor and stepped back and waved as the elevator wall slowly closed to a shut.

“Now go feed hyung and yourself before you go back to work. Thank you again noona and see you later."

“Special delivery for a grumpy hairless cat!”

A beat.

Then came a grumbled: “Come in.”

Punching the proper strings of numbers on the door code, you open the door to the genius lab to find Yoongi sitting in front of his computer, one ear off of his headphones as he goes back to a specific second again and again.

Situating yourself on the couch next to the door, you place the paper bag on the coffee table and slowly unload all its contents, hoping its smell is enough to deter him from his work just for a second.

Taking one of the containers, you open it to see bulgogi generously sprinkled on top of rice. The savory smell of the dish wafting out almost immediately, and Yoongi visibly perks up from his table; if perking up meant him temporarily stopping his incessant clicking and head tilting a little to the side.

“Is it all bulgogi?”

Placing down the container, you opened the other one to reveal the same dish except this time with fried rice.

“Yeah, you want fried rice or no?”

“Whatever you like less.” He grumbled as he returned to his work.

“That's not a proper answer.”

“Just take whatever you want, I like either.” He muttered.

Staring at the food on the table, you found yourself at a crossroads. The fried rice looks more appetizing than the plain white rice on the other container but you've had enough sodium for the week, having challenged Taehyung, Jimin and Jin to who can eat more ramyeon in one sitting the day before the concert.

But today just doesn't feel like a plain rice type of day. 

But fried rice isn't healthy.

“Just choose please, I don't know what I want either.” You groaned out, frustrated.

With a grunt, the man took off his headphones and turned to face you before maneuvering himself closer to the table and picking up the container with the plain rice.

“Stop thinking so much about what is healthy or not,” He remarked as he took a pair of chopsticks from the paper bag. “I could hear your thoughts even with my headphones on and my back turned.”

“Then why tell me to choose if you already knew?”

Yoongi only shrugged as he took his first bite, prompting you to take yours. He seems to mull over something as he chews, staring at the food on the table for a while before placing the container down and leaving the room without a word.

You had learned not to question his confusing actions throughout the years, even then you couldn't help but be bewildered.

When he returned, he was carrying two drinks in one hand. Sprite and Kombucha. Settling back on his chair, he placed down the bottle of Kombucha in front of him before opening the can of sprite and placing it in front of you.

“I don't have any straws on me so you'll have to just chug it.”

People don't usually notice it but you think Jin and Yoongi are more similar in how they show their affections, just in different volumes. Seokjin’s care is always voiced out, always asking whether you want something or not and offering to do or make it for you while Yoongi just somehow always knows what you want and does it wordlessly. Both of them are always willing to provide.

If you had asked them for something as ludicrous as fried cotton candy with melted cheese on top, Jin would complain and express his disgust openly, ranting about the strenuous process while holding the handle of the pan and a spatula in the other while Yoongi would cook it without questioning your sanity.

Either way, it never fails to make your chest warm.

“Thank you, Yoongs.”

He suddenly takes a huge bite, bringing the container close to his face before humming out his response, easily flustered as ever.

You both eat your food in silence. With years of friendship under your belt, you have learned to enjoy the serenity Yoongi brings. It had been rough at the start, his quietness matched with his stoic expression had often led to misunderstandings where you often thought he thinks of you badly for being close to his brothers, especially after Jin’s confession.

He had confronted you once he heard it from Namjoon—who had immediately tattled onto his hyung after you had told him not to tell anyone—, saying he simply had problems expressing himself. You could remember how his hands, despite being entangled with each other, shook with his voice, could recall how he had forced himself to hold eye contact with you when he always had difficulties in holding one.

It was thoughtful and that was the first time you had felt the tingles of warmth in your chest. Teenage you had her feet swept off by a stuttering mess of a guy with eye contact issues.

Despite Jin being the first in the group to confess, Yoongi was the first to touch your heart.

“Why are you looking at me like that?’

You tilt your head. “Like what?”

A conflict of emotion crossed his eyes as he struggled to find the words but before he could, your phone vibrated from your pocket.

           [13:54] Guwon: I'm at the cafe close to your building

You almost choked on your spit, surprised by his message. His office was on the other side of the city, why would he drive so far just to get some coffee with you during work days? 

Love , a voice answers and you immediately waved it off.

There was no way he had fallen in love with you in such a short time. You have been on two dates with him yet he hadn't asked you to be his girlfriend when there's been multiple times throughout those days and nights he had the chance to do so.

During nights where you'd restlessly toss around on your bed, you found yourself facing one more problem outside of your friends.

You didn't notice when it started when Guwon began to make your stomach churn and it bothers you to the nines at how you were being suspicious of him.

Guwon is a genuinely nice guy with a legit and grand background from what you learned throughout the short time you've been hanging out, his case stories of helping out women stuck in abusive relationships and bringing justice to those the law has failed once proven true when you've typed his name on Naver. The man didn't deserve the doubt twisting in your stomach nor the aversion you were slowly gaining towards him.

Your conflicting feelings surrounding your friends' confessing and odd behaviors shouldn't be affecting your relationship with the man you will marry at some point yet it ended up doing so.

There was something foul and bitter simmering in your guts these days whenever you force yourself to think about him during your time. It burns like bile and tasted like betrayal, almost like unfaithfulness ; you try not to think hard on why you feel this way but it's hard not to when Jimin and Taehyung's jealousy keeps flashing behind your eyelids with every blink.

           [13:55] You: Oh wow, which one?

           [13:55] Guwon: The one on the left side, Areum Cafe.

           [13:55] Guwon: Are you free to get a cup of coffee with me?

           [13:56] Guwon: Sorry for springing this up on you

           [13:55] Guwon: I missed you🙁

“Who is it?”

“It's Guwon,” You say, scratching your head. “He says he's at the cafe down the road and wants to meet up.”

Yoongi placed down his food and stared at you, long and hard. Cat-like eyes narrowed and observing as he leaned back on his chair. You feel his eyes regard your body language before sighing.

“I assume you need help getting out? I'm not as… bold as the younger ones but I think I can help… somehow”

His appearance would surely help tamper down the discomfort that had bloomed with the recent revelations. Yoongi is intimidating as he is caring, having him next to you would ensure you a shorter time spent with the man, as well as prohibit him from pulling another surprise kiss on you.

But why are you so uncomfortable spending time with Guwon anyways?

You didn't have any problems before, even wanted to sleep with him the night prior so why now?

“How’d you know I need help?”

“You looked like your mother just told you to come to another date.”

Immediately, you ironed out the frown you didn't realize had marred your face. 

“I thought you would've been delighted you've finally met your match?”

“I-I am.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, the sound echoing louder in the silence of the room. “Try again. A little more sure this time.”

You sighed and relented, knowing the man wouldn't let you take a step out of the door if you lied to him again.

“Everything just started feeling wrong for some reason.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, eyes widening with surprise. “How so?”

“You know, when Jimin and Taehyung came over last night to make sure I got home safe, they were acting strange towards Guwon.” When he made no move to respond, you continued. “When Guwon suddenly kissed me, Taehyung looked… scary. Jimin too, if you can believe it.”

“I actually do.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Yoongi goes silent again, mulling over something as his gaze finally met yours for the first time that day. “For someone so perceptive, you're a bit oblivious.”

“What is it?”

“I won't elaborate, I'll let you realize things on your own.”

You groaned, facepalming because ain't no way Yoongi just added more fuel to the forest fire that is your thoughts. The man doesn’t even look aware of what his words had done, reaching over and innocently sipping on his kombucha once more.

“Back to what you were saying, why do you think it felt wrong to see Guwon?”

With his calm voice and the deafening silence of the room, you found yourself comparing Yoongi, who even has his hands folded over his crossed jean-clad legs, to a therapist and laughed.

“Didn’t know I was due for a therapy session when I dropped off your lunch.”

“Well I did, so deal with it,” He placed down his bottle. “Do you need my help or not?”

“Is breathing important? Obviously yes.”

He nods and stands, but not before saying, “I hope you know this conversation is far from over.”

While his presence had given you more peace of mind, leaving the BigHit building with Yoongi—who had forgone his usual outdoor style of beanies and big prescription glasses matched with a black mask in order to appear more intimidating, claiming the beanie softens his edges, something you playfully rolled your eyes at—still felt like walking into your doom.

The moment he steps out of the building, suddenly everyone's eyes are on him. The cool stoicness surrounding him commanded attention and the people listened without complaint, not when Yoongi looked like every highschool teenager's bad boy wet dreams.

Strolling into the cafe is easier with Yoongi trailing behind you like a guard dog; or in his case, a guard panther.

There's something about having the rapper, who has never shown a hint of romantic attraction to you in all your years being their friend, accompanying you to meet the man you might marry once the discomfort born from conflicting feelings subsides. It makes your heart jittery and your stomach twisting uncomfortably, the nerves from meeting Guwon only adding fuel to the fire.

It felt improper somehow, as if you were breaking an invisible rule you're yet to uncover from the depths of your soul.

The tempting aroma of freshly baked buttery goods and roasted coffee beans greeted you the moment Yoongi had pushed the door open for the both of you. In the controlled volume of mixed chatters from different tables, a calm acoustic instrumental flies through the air and you almost forgot what you came here for. 

It didn't take long for you to find Guwon sitting on the table farthest from the entrance, secluded and away from the wide glass pane windows. When the door had opened with a chime, the man had raised his head from his phone and met your eyes. You try not to linger on how his expression stiffened when he realized you had Yoongi in tow before a smile wipes it away.

“You see him?” Yoongi’s voice grumbled from behind and you nod. Guwon stands, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor catching his attention. “That him?”

“Yeah, I don't think he's happy I brought you with me.”

He chuckled lightly. “Good.”

Guwon met you both halfway, arms opened wide to greet you with a hug and you let him. When you pull away, his hand casually falls to your waist and your skin scrawls . 

Immediately, Yoongi’s eyes drop to look at it but before any hint of emotion breaks onto his face, his cool eyes are already back on your suitor’s face.

“Which one of your kids am I given the pleasure of meeting this time?” Guwon asks before offering his free hand to Yoongi who had taken it with a carefully crafted blank expression and unrelenting stare.

Seeing him remain in eye contact with Guwon surprises you. The man, even after your years of being friends, had never held eye contact for longer than five seconds outside the time he had opened up to you about his struggle with expressing himself.

It made you curious. Why is he provoking him? Is he testing Guwon?

“I'm not one of her kids, I'm actually older than her. Min Yoongi.”

“Yoo Guwon, a pleasure to meet you.”

Even when both their hands had long pulled away from each other, their eyes lingered longer. Challenging on Guwon's part, and taunting on Yoongi's as he stared back, completely unfazed.

Seeing them silently engage in a dick measuring contest, something you didn’t expect Yoongi to ever partake in since he had been loud in his distaste for his own gender, irked you. The tightening grip on your waist didn't help, wanting nothing but to slap it off if it wasn't for your promise to your mother to not fuck this up.

‘If you don't tell them what you're uncomfortable with, then they'll continue on doing it. The other guys out there aren't like us who'd feel guilty if we knew, I fear that they might take advantage of you instead, noona.’ Hobi’s voice echoes in your mind.

Sorry Hoba, I'm trying to make this work. But if this behavior continues, then I'll listen to you.

“I thought you idols are often more busy than the average folk?”

Yoongi sucks air through his teeth before responding. “We were in the middle of a fitting prior. I hope you don't mind me keeping watch, can't have our staff getting distracted by heartthrobs like you.”

Guwon laughed, a little louder than usual.

“She's been telling you guys about me?”

“All the good things, don't worry.” He then turns to you, eyes searching your face for a hint of extreme discomfort before continuing. “I'll go order the others some food.”

Sparing one last nod of his head at the man next to you, Yoongi then turns towards the counter to order. The moment he was out of earshot, dread drops onto your stomach like an anvil and you looked up at the Guwon whose eyes were already trained onto yours, a lazy smile stretched on his lips.

“I assume you’ll be needed back once he’s done?”

“ Yeah, I’m sorry it's just… Wrong timing.”

He waves you off. “Nonsense, it’s my fault for bringing you out of your work. They won’t fine you for this, right?”

“I went with one of my bosses, of course they won’t.”

His eyes studied your face for a moment, searching. For what? You don’t want to know. When he had found whatever it was, his face melts into a softer, more mellow expression and your heart clenches. The outpouring of awe in his eyes felt heavy and thick, it clogs up your throat and weighs your already strained form.

“I missed you.” He whispers with the sweetest of voices. “Did you miss me?”

“I-I do, kept thinking about you...”

The lie weighted like lead on your tongue and burned like acid. Compared to the genuineness practically dripping from his lips, your words fall short in your ears. With the way his softened expression crumpled into a frown, you knew he also noticed the hesitance in your voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. With the tour being so close and more sponsorship offers coming in, it got a bit stressful than usual.”

When his arms reach around your shoulders and pull you flush to his chest, you will yourself not to tense. You were both hugging in the middle of the coffee shop and you could feel the nearby patron’s stare pressing onto your body, judging and unpleasant. Embarrassment burns your cheeks and the desire to push him away grows.

Even Jimin and Taehyung doesn’t dare to get affectionate in public, none of your friends ever did anything more than a hand on your shoulder to lead you to the correct direction or a pat on the back when Jungkook had more sleep and food ingested, and and you just happen to be assigned to him that day.

You wanted nothing more but to tell him to back off but the words got stuck in your throat. 

“Just a tip, she doesn’t like PDA so maybe step away?”

Immediately, Guwon scrambles off of you. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Guwon says, his hand falling from your shoulder and down to your arm. You shivered.

A firm and familiar hand lands on your shoulder and Yoongi tugs you back to stand next to him. There’s a set in jaw as his eyes narrowed down at Guwon, the hand replacing Guwon on your arm is tense and rigid but not enough to hurt. 

You sensed that he had a lot to say once you were out of sight, all of them expressing his distaste for the man you’re set to eventually marry. Even when you were all standing there, you could already imagine the curses and nitpicked details pouring out of his lips.

“We’ll be going back now,” Yoongi says to Guwon, voice tight as if holding back his emotions as he curtly bowed. “Our leader is already demanding us to come back so we’ll have to cut this meeting short. It was nice meeting you.”

Guwon looked incredulous at the turn of events, eyes shuttering before he nodded in understanding and turned to flash a smile at you.

“Message me when you’re home, alright?”

Yoongi didn’t even linger long enough for you to respond, already walking away. By the time you turned to look at him, he was three gaits away from leaving the coffee shop. With a dip of your head, you sprint to follow closely behind the man now pushing through the door. 

You could understand the reason for his irritation, always the most protective out of the bunch and the one with the most to say about men. To see your closest female friend be made uncomfortable by her suitor, a stranger in his eyes, there was no doubt he’d be livid.

But why does he have to walk so fast?! 

You’re not physically built to match his pace, he takes one step and you have to do three. It was infuriating but you couldn’t exactly scream at him to slow down in public, catching the attention of other people would only create more problems than you both could take on

He eventually slows down to a halt in front of the double glass doors of the BigHit building and you were able to finally catch up to him. In the lobby, you both calmly approached the elevator, a complete juxtaposition of how hasty you two were not a moment before. 

But the moment the metal doors of the elevator shuts, isolating you and Yoongi from the rest, he begins.

“I don’t like him.”

It was stupid but you wanted to know what specific trait he had found irksome.

(Deep down, you knew you were finding a reason to stop, to let go of Guwon and stop this stupid charade.)

“He didn’t even notice you were uncomfortable earlier. When you told us that he’s good, I thought he’d be decent, not top grade bare minimum.”

“H-He was actually good, believe it or not.”

“So he's a pretentious prick?”

You sighed. “H-He just—”

“Hyung wouldn't approve.” Yoongi cuts in, his hardened eyes now piercing through yours, almost taunting you to bite back. “Not just him, everyone would. You'd break poor Jiminie’s heart if you continued seeing him once he found out how he acted today.”

You knew he was guilt tripping you and it was working. But you swore Guwon was better than the others, he had treated you with a gentleness and care your friends had shown yet something had changed after that night. 

Was Taehyung's clinginess, their presence in general, been the catalyst?

Had he felt threatened by them showing up? You had established early on that they're your boss and your mother would've mentioned your relationship with the boys in passing at least, so why would he feel threatened by them?

“I know what you're thinking but it doesn't work like that.” His voice, now softer than it had been earlier, pierces through the trance you’ve submerged into. “Even if you had said you’re only friends with them, it's human nature for us to still feel intimidated even if we're just friends.”

“That's dumb.”

He shrugged. “Men are dumb, I'm just slightly better than the rest.”

“That's debatable.” You joked and he raised an eyebrow.

“ Your taste is questionable.” He shot back and you hit his arm in response, making him laugh but it stopped as fast as it came. “I'm serious, hyung won't like it if you continue meeting Guwon.”

“I know, I can already hear him and we're not even there yet.”

“Don’t be dumb, if you want a husband so bad, tell aunt to wait for me to renew our contract next year and I'll marry you.” 

He meant it as a joke, you knew that, but you couldn't stop the butterflies in your stomach from fluttering wildly. You're suddenly reminded of a scene from years ago, his alcohol-flushed cheeks pulled taut by the dopey smile stretching his lips wide and his slurred voice admitting something you—until today—have no recollection of what had been uttered.

You both have been battered to the nines, drunken out of your minds and stumbling over the smallest rocks on the street by the time Seokjin and Namjoon had found you halfway home. It was a miracle you both got off unscathed with how giggly and dumbed down you were.

“Bold of you to assume I'd say yes.”

“I got wealth, I got a good mug on me, what else would you need?”

“Seokjin also got those.”

He pondered long and hard, sucking air through his teeth before he turned to you again with a playful glint in his eyes.

“You know what they say about my tongue right?”

He couldn’t say he didn’t expect the punch in the arm that followed soon after.

When the elevator door opens and you both go straight for the dance studio, the conversation about Guwon is put on pause and you dread the moment Seokjin hears what had transpired in the coffee shop when suddenly, Yoongi stills and hissed out a curse.

“ Shit , I forgot Jungkook’s muffins.”

[pedrospatch]

wip wednesday

tysm for the tags loves! @alltheirdamn @sawymredfox @milla-frenchy @almostfoxglove @penvisions @cavillscurls @arcanefox207 @strang3lov3 @evolnoomym @mermaidgirl30 <33

i said i wasn't going to participate, but i sorta have something to share? it is a super lengthy jackson! joel one shot i thought of last year that i want to write for the holidays. it is not holiday themed per say, but does take place during fall and winter seasons and if i do write it, it will be shared in december. most of it will remain top secret for now. okay i'll stop babbling and share a snippet.

You shouldn’t be alone, Maria had told you. Not at a time like this. Perhaps she’s right. Perhaps you shouldn’t be alone. Not when the grief is so heavy. Too heavy. But being surrounded by people who felt sorry for you—that’s not what you need, either. You could hardly stand the way the entire town looked at you during the service, the pity in everyone’s eyes as they each came up to you, one by one, to express their condolences with tired clich��s accompanied by unwanted hugs and pathetic pats on your shoulder. Poor girl lost her momma, and now her daddy, too. She’s all alone. There’s a loud knock at the door and it startles you out of your thoughts. Wiping at your damp, swollen eyes with the back of your hand, you bite back a sigh and stand up from the couch, hoping it’s not another member of the community showing up with another home-cooked meal for you. You had a refrigerator crammed full of food, most of it which you know will go bad—even when you do eventually get your appetite back, one human being can only eat so much damn green bean casserole. When you pull open the door, you’re already prepared to thank whoever is standing there on your porch with a sympathetic smile on their face, a dish of something or other—green bean casserole, you’re willing to bet—in their hands. Instead, you’re taken by complete surprise when you see the older man you’re all too familiar with standing there, his broad, hulking frame nearly taking up the entire doorway. “Joel?” “Hey, darlin’,” he says softly, his hands tucked in the pockets of his brown jacket. No casserole to offer—thank god. “What are you doing here?” you question, as if isn’t obvious. “Came over to check on you.” Joel clears his throat. “I, uh—I didn’t get the chance to talk to you after the service with all those people goin’ up to you.” He can barely look at you, and you know why. He feels guilty. After all, he’d been the last person to see your father alive. Joel had been with him when he took his last breath—showed up at your front door in the middle of the night, shirt covered in his blood to deliver the news to you. His only child, his young daughter who had nobody left. He shuffles apprehensively from boot to boot. “Y’okay?” “No,” you answer, simply. “Are you?” Joel exhales a shaky breath, responds with a barely audible, “No.”  You step aside and gesture for him to come inside. “Well then,” you say, swallowing the thick lump climbing its way up your throat. “How about you come in? I’ll make a pot of coffee and we can be not okay together?”

tagging anyone who wants to participate! and please tag me so i can read about your wips!

[steddiebang2024]

I was a teenage dirtbag  |  Mature  |  75k

Author: @hellfireloserclub

Artist: @academic-clown

Beta Reader: @kaypie91

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to art]

Pairings: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington , Erica Sinclair, Dustim Henderson, Nancy Wheeler. 

Tags: Slowburn, Future Fic, Year 2000, Post-season Four, Bisexual Steve, Bisexual Eddie, Comedy /angst, Long distance friendship to lovers, Radio Host Eddie, Hairdresser Steve, Wedding fic.

Trigger Warnings: Sex, Alcohol, and Recreational drugs

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

“So…” Dustin started.

“So what?” Eddie asked, fixing his eyes on the side of Dustin’s face, trying to work out what way this interrogation was going to go.  

“I don’t have my own ringtone, Wayne and Mom don’t, but Steve does?” Dustin avoided looking at him, staring at the overhead signs pointing to the short stay parking, acting like they weren’t at the airport at least twice a month with the family coming and going. 

“I thought it was funny,” he said in his own defense. 

“And I totally believe you.” It sounded like a question. 

“But?”

“But are you sure there's not more?” someone shouldn’t look so smug as they reverse in a multi story, yet here was Dustin excelling at it. When Eddie didn’t answer he cut off the engine turning to look at him, all signs pointed to the next few minutes being incredibly uncomfortable.  

“Spit it out, I have to get to the gate,” Eddie grumbled, he felt like he was under a microscope, his little brother's eyes boring into him.

“Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Steve?”  Eddie wanted to yell- yes, I just don’t know what? But he bit it down, this wasn’t the time to trigger a Dustin intervention. 

“Just because you can't procreate outside of the close knit circles you were dragged up in, doesn’t mean we all have to hook up within our little friend group.  You gotta stop trying to pair us all off dude, it's not cool. Remember when you used to keep trying to pair off Steve and Robin? How did that work out for you?” Eddie questioned. 

“In my defense-”

“No. Say less. Stop. I broke up with Yumi two weeks ago, I don’t need you to help, I don’t need your psychoanalyzing me with Max over the phone. I don’t need you to try and set me up with a rebound. I’m a big boy alright. I’m going to Boston to get stupidly drunk with Steve, talk shit about you all lovingly, and lament the fact that both me and him are probably gonna die old and alone.” He reached over the back of the seat and grabbed his duffle bag, before reaching over and tapping Dustin on the cheek. “But look at the plus side, if me and Stevie don’t bring a plus one to the wedding that will save you two meals and a headache with seating plans.”

“You make my resolve to not meddle in both of your love lives impossible, you know that right?” Dustin asked, leaning over the center console. 

“Cause you were doing an absolutely stellar job of it before this conversation?” Eddie closed the door behind him. “Dusty, I love you like you’re my own flesh and blood. But please, let this one go?” 

Dustin looked poised to say something else but Eddie didn’t have time for it. “If the words curiosity journey come out of your mouth, I’m not speaking to you for a month.”  Dustin snapped his mouth shut. “That’s it, save it for Applejack, I don’t want to know.”

Eddie gave the car a courtesy wave as he went through the doors of the airport, but he didn’t look back. He was pretty sure Dustin had hit the nail on the head with his observations, but as far as anyone was aware Steve was just his friend, and letting go of any control on that narrative was like letting a fox off in a hen house. It would be chaos. Although Eddie was starting to think it was a lost cause. This was so much easier when he and Steve hated each other, enemies to fuck buddies was a much easier story arch, with a lot less emotional baggage.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Five + One

Author’s Note: This is set before Cedric was brought to Ancient Terra! I hope that you enjoy this. Masterlist of BT shenanigans here. Thanks to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow her OC Jerahmiel!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan 

Warnings: blood, violence, murder, medical terminology, medical practices, please ask me to tag something if I missed it/something bothers you 

Summary: Five times Cedric was able to save injured Brothers and one time he didn’t. 

Ansen limped into the med-tent that Cedric as working in and leaning heavily on Malachai, who had helped him get back to the temporary encampment where injured marines and other Imperial Forces could be tended to. The system they were fighting in was embroiled in a huge border war between The IMperium and the duplicitous forces of a new but irritatingly persistent xeno race.

Cedric looks him over, a small frown appearing on his face as he instructed the pair “Please sit on the exam table, Ansen. Are you injured as well, Mal?”

Malachai shook his head “Not really/ I brought Ansen over due to his fucked up leg. My right hand is damaged, but nothing that an hour or so of letting it heal on it’s own won’t fix. My sqord broke and I need to get a new weapon while this one is being reforged.”

“Alright then. Be sure to stop by the food tent before you leave.” Cedric responded, already starting to look Ansen over.

“Heard. See you both later.” Malachai answered with a cheerful wave as he headed off.

“How’d you get injured? Whatever injured your leg it doesn’t seemed to have cut through your armor at all, somehow. Perhaps some kind of phasing technology? How much feeling do you have in this leg?” Cedric asked as he swiftly removed the other’s leg armor and began to clean, suture and bandage his wounds “These stitches are absorbable, so you need not come back to have them removed. If you notice signs of infection or if one or more of your wounds opens up again, please return for treatment.”

“.. One of the xenos cowards managed to sneak up behind me in the bushes while I was taking a piss. Malachai decapitated the motherless bastard while I put my armor back on. It was only after that I realized the blue fuck had managed to stab me several times before it’d been killed.” Ansen huffed. His helmet was on, but Cedric knew the other was blushing.

“That is some shit luck, brother. Keep your weight off of that leg for an hour or so and you’ll be combat ready again… So long as you don’t get stabbed while pissing.” Cedric consoled his brother, just barely able to keep a straight face. He was not going to laugh. Stealthy, cowardly xenos attacks could happen to anyone. “Any other injuries?”

“Other than my pride and reputation? No, not really.” Ansen grumbled.

Cedric patted his fellow Primaris on the shoulder. “Go forth and slay the alien scum in an hour, brother dearest. You’ll be able to reclaim lost honor that way.” 

“... Thanks Cedric.” Ansen sighed as he got up and hobbled out of the med tent.

~

It did not take long before another Brother was brought to Cedric in need of patching up.

Lieutenant Aldenbrech was rushed onto the surgical table by his squadmates. Cedric immediately started an IV drop as the amount of blood gushing out of the nasty wound  along the firstborn’s abdomen and the ashen tint to his skin spoke of a concerning amount of blood loss, even for an Astartes. The second thing he did was swiftly clean the wound and stitch up the major artery that had been pierced, his hands stone-steady.

Cedric then had to suction the blood that had pooled in the lieutenant’s abdominal cavity, battling the other’s own high healing factor to do so thoroughly enough to ensure that no blood remained where it shouldn’t be to cause trouble later.

“Are you certain that you only want mild local anesthetics? This is going to take some time and it won’t be pleasant in the least, sir.” Cedric asked, a medium-high dose of morpha held in one hand, as he continued to tend to the other’s injuries.

“I want to get back into the fight as soon as possible. A large dose of a heavy anesthetic like that will take me out of the fight for longer than I’m willing to wait and recuperate. I must get back onto the battlefield as soon as possible.” Lieutenant Aldenbrech grumbled, shifting just a little on the surgical table.

“Sir you will need to take the next twenty four hours to recover… Ideally, you should take forty-eight hours to recover, but I am well aware of the fact that the xenos scum are showing no signs of stopping the invasion of this world.” Cedric warned the other marine.

“Are my guts back in place?” The lieutenant demanded a heavy scowl on his face as he looked up at Cedric.

“Yes, the wound wasn’t wide enough to spill organs, nor intestines sir. Bit-” Cedric answered, sighing internally at how stubborn the older marine was being.

Aldenbrech interrupted him “Then pull the IV needle out of my arm. I need to be out there now!”  He shifted, as if to get off of the table. He sat up quickly and nearly fell back against the table, his skin going an ashen color “I told you none of the heavy medications!”

“And I obeyed your orders, sir. But you need to wait until the IV has finished at least. You’ve lost several listers of blood on your way to treatment and all that blood needs replacing, or you won’t have the strength to stand, much less fight.” Cedric pointed out, suppressing the annoyed sigh that threatened to escape him. 

“You don’t understand! My apprentice Dylies… He was… He was cut down by one of the xenos commanders. He took a blow meant for me, and I must avenge him!” The lieutenant hisses, eyes flashing with determination and desperation.

“I can increase how much it infuses into you at one time by a certain amount, but you must wait. You can’t avenge Dylies if you’re about to go into the Emperor’s Embrace yourself, sir.  Dylies would want you to take care of yourself before avenging him” Cedric quietly reminded the firstborn marine. He was pushing aside his own grief at the loss of a Primaris Brother. It was likely that more would fall before the xenos threat were driven from this system. His job was to tend to the living.

Lieutenant Aldenbrecht huffed but nodded, still disgruntled but he said “... YOu have a point. How long must I wait?”

“Three hours sir. However the window of time where you need to be monitored by an Apothecary for possible allergic or other negative reactions has passed. SO long as you keep the IV pole with you and allow the infusion to continue as it is currently set, you may walk about the base camp and tend to light duties as you feel capable of doing them, sir.” Cedric  responded, aware that the officer was likely to be needed in the ongoing tactical planning and execution meetings.

“Good. I’ll come back if I start feeling worse, or more likely, when it’s done infusing.” the lieutenant rumbled, nodding as he heaved himself up onto his feet and slowly shuffled out of the tent, followed by his squadmates.

~

Olivar carried Lestras into Cedric’s medical tent, skidding to a halt from the dead sprint that he had galloped into the space with. Lestras had been carried in on Olivar’s back, and their breathing was fast and shallow.

Some of their wounds were immediately apparent to the young Apothecary as he grabbed the wound cleanser and burn ointment “What happened?” cedric asked as his rock-steady hands swiftly took off the rest of Lestras’ ruined chest plate and greaves before he started to clean the other’s extensive and bubbling burn and laceration wounds.

“Xenos bastards implanted bombs in some of the mortal civilians they were tormenting and that our squad had been tasked with rescuing.” Olivar answered bluntly, a slight shudder running through the other Primaris Marine “Lestras spotted the surgical markings on the affected civilians and separated them from the rest of the group… He’d managed to get most of them away from the untainted civilians when the bombs were triggered.”

Lestras looked up at Cedric from where they lay on the table, eyes glassy with shock and pain “Oww…” He mumbles “Everything hurts.”

Cedric’s eyes softened a little as he injected them with a moderate dose of morpha. They were going to need it, as cleaning burn wounds felt truly awful for the patient in question. “Tell me when the pain killer kicks in. You will be able to tell with how much I gave you.”

Lestras let out an agonized laugh through cracked and bleeding lips “That bad, Cedric? We’ve been taught that pain and suffering is good for the body and soul.”

“But excess of anything attracts the attention of the foul despoilers. Burn wound treatment is going to be miserable, even with morpha helping you with the pain. There’s no need to go looking for more Les.” Cedric reminded them kindly.

Lestras nodded, closing their eyes for a couple of moments. Their body relaxed and a soft sigh left them “Ohh… You gave me some of the really good stuff… Big ouch impending then?”

“Yes. There is a lot of wound debridement in your immediate future.” Cedric warned his brother. WIth how fast Primaris Marines healed, for Lestras’ health and safety, ,the first few layers of burned flesh needed to be debrided off in order to encourage even, healthy growth of the other’s injured tissues. Cedric looked over to Olivar “Unless you are injured as well, I would suggest that you head out, Olivar. This is going to be a very unpleasant process.” 

Olivar nodded “I’m going to get something to eat, then find an outgoing squad to keep up the fight. May the god emperor guide and protect you both,”

“Oww…” Lestras sighed as he internally braced himself for the agony that he wos about to endure.

“Tell me when the morpha starts to wear off. This process is going to take hours.” Cedric warned his sibling.

“Okay Cedric, I promise. Give me a few moments to get into a meditative state and I’ll be ready for this trial.” Lestras murmured.

Cedric nodded, watching his sibling and started once they had achieved that internal state.

~

Brother Felixald was brought into Cedric’s medical tent on a stretcher, carried there by his squadmates. All five of the firstborn marines were in varying states of injury, but Felixald was unconscious and barely breathing.

One of his legs was gone from the knee down with a makeshift tourniquet in place to keep him from bleeding out. Cedric immediately began assessing the five older marines, suggesting ”You two should seek immediate help. THose puncture wounds look like they need  immediate assistance… I think you’ve been poisoned, from the way those wounds look and smell.” Cedric was already getting the cauterization tool ready as he assessed the bloody and raw leg stump, in case he needed to cut off more to ensure that the older marine would heal properly.

The two firstborns he suggested to leave did so immediately. The other two marines sat down heavily on the far side of the tent. One of them asked “Do you want us to recount how we got the injuries, or would you rather we stayed quiet while you take care of Feli, and get report when it’s our turn?” Brother Nulik asked.

“His most obvious injury shouldn’t take me long. Sir, I am going to administer a dose of morpha, as cauterization hurts like hell. Injecting now.” Cedric answered, speaking mostly to his barely conscious patient.

“Have… Ontel. Need to share.” Brother Felixald managed out, his grey-brown eyes flittering open as he stared up desperately into Cedric’s face “No morpha! Need a clear… Fuck! I do feel better. The xenos! They.. They are camouflaging themselves. It’s how I got this way.”

“The intel will be shared immediately. What are they pretending to be?” Cedric soothed his patient as he carefully cleaned and sanitized the older marine’s recently exploded or pehrpss cut off leg stump before he applied the cauterization tool. The sizzle of heat against wet and teh unpleasant smell of burning flesh was an eye-watering stench that Cedric had long become used to. He makes a quick note in the other’s file flagging him for an immediate prosthetic fitting.

“Some of them look like Astartes from an unknown chapter… Others took the colors of the ULtramarines. Their duplicity was revealed when the fuckers tried to kill us. God-Emperor damn them!” Brother Felixald growled, his exhaustion and the morpha causing him to slur his words together a little.

Cedric dutifully sent that urgent bit of intel off to his mentor to handle as he continued to batch up the badly injured marine and his two remaining squadmates. “I have informed Apothecary Xonfried, who will ensure that this information is disseminated quickly. Is there anything that you or your squadmates would like to report?”

Nulik and Bekith both shook their heads “No, Apothecary. That’s the relevant part of what happened, other than the numbers of foul xenos we murdered.”

“Alright. You two are free to go, and they’ve got the food-tent up and running.. Brother Felixald, you’ll need to stay for a bit as you’ve lost a significant portion of blood, and I’m going to start you on an infusion to get your volume back up to what it should be.” Cedric murmured.

“Aye, I can tell by how the world spins unpleasantly beneath me.” Felixald answered, laying back on the table and letting Cedric care for him properly as his squadmates headed off to get something to eat.

~

Cedric was carefully re-sanitizing his workspace when he heard the tell-tale sounds of running astartes headed in his direction. The young Apothecary swiftly finished cleaning, the coppery tang of blood and the chemical-bitter scent of stressed Marine hitting Cedric. 

A half-dozen Astartes rushed into his medical tent, carrying Brother-sergeant Jerahmiel between them on a stretcher. The firstborn Marine was very badly hurt, with dozens of armor-piercing wounds inflicted all over his body. To make things worse, the sargent appeared to have lost his helmet during battle, given the extensive new burns all over his head and face.

It did seem as if the older marine’s eyes were still fully functional, despite the awful state they were in, from the way they narrowed at Cedric's approach, a low hiss leaving the sergeant’s ruined lips and broken teeth.

“Honorable Older Brothers.” Cedric began, just loud enough to cover the wordless sounds of protest from the injured marine now on his surgical table, doing his best to protect a sense of concern and urgency “Each of you are also badly injured and I can only tend to one Brother at at im. I urge each of you to seek treatment immediately. I will do what I can to save the honorable brother sergeant.” He did not allow himself to feel anything but concern and determination in this moment.

It worked! The other battered and bleeding first born brothers quickly left to get their own wounds treated without so much as a backwards glance. Aware that if they stayed, Cedric would need to triage all seven of them, and would be forced to leave the brother-sargeant to be treated last, due to his all too tenuous grasp on life at the moment.

Cedric’s hands were steady and his face a mask of calm as he worked to clean, treat and bandage Jerahmiel  wounds, listening to the sounds around the two of them. He also double checked to make sure that the sergeant’s armor was, as he methodically checked over the other’s injuries.

If his hands slipped a little occasionally, pressing too hard ,causing more pain than was necessary… Well that was due to his inexperience and exhaustion. Cedric had been diligently tending to his injured Brothers for weeks with minimal sleep or rest and food. Cedric had yet to administer any pain relievers because he needed to conserve supplies. Suffering was good for the body and soul, after all “Stop struggling. You are under my care nd you will take what I give you, BRothe.” Cedric commented.

THe twitchy, badly injured firstborn marine stilled compeltely as he said those words, his half-ruined yes locking onto Cedric’ss. Dread perfumed the air as the sergeant rasped out with ruined vocal cords, barely able to speak “Wh-what did you just say?” He was clearly familiar with the phrase.

Cedric smiled benignly down at the Brother-Sargeant and answered with “I need you restrained. You are resisting the inevitable and what is necessary. Resistance is not just futile, but heretical.”

The dread intensified and the badly injured bastard attempted to stand up and escape Cedric.

Hah

The firstborn Marine had barely managed to sit up when Cedric raised up one hand and lightly shoved Jerahmiel back down onto the surgical table, pressing against the other’s fractured ribs. It truly was remarkable how badly injured the fucker was. A pity he didn’t qualify for dreadnought entombment. He did not possess the skill and experience to save this astares’ life “If you are free of sin, the god-Emperor will ensure that you survive this trial, Brother.”

“How… Why… Why are you saying that? How do you know what I had told that mouthy abomination I culled under the orders of Chaplain Petras?” THe sergeant wheezed, fear and confusion clear on his face, along with a tremendous amount of pain.

“His armor recorded his last moments, and the proceeding conversation… Sir. Unlike yours, his armor was fully functional at the time of his death. I found the recording of you beating him to death for no good reason.” Cedric answered placidly “He was beaten to death because he was going to report your… Indiscretion with that civilian woman that he witnessed. DId you really think he would’ve confronted you about it without ensuring that should something have happened to him, that you would escape justice? The Emperor’s light shines upon us all equally. As does his judgment.”

“Are you..What are you … You… Agk!” Jerahmiel sputtered, clearly trying to make sense of Cedric’s words, and failing, from his clear confusion.

“The honored Primarch decreed Primaris Marines to be made. He sent us out to help our firstborn Brothers in protecting the Imperium. The high marshal has declared that we are not heretical. So what right do you have to brand us as such, for merely existing? Do you believe yourself more righteous than one of the loyal sons of the Emperor?” Cedrc purred, leaning more of his weight onto the badly injured bastard, helpless before him.

Renewed pain bloomed across the sergeant’s face, along with understanding and a primarl fury “You… Fucker! He hissed, spitting up at him, blood bubbling at the corners of his lips. Hisbreathing labored and uneven. Jerahmiel’s hearts were beating rapidly Cedric could feel them under his hands.

Cedric had injected the other with a paralytic which kept him helpless on the surgical table. The much younger marine grinned boyishly as he avoided the flying and bloody spittle “It’s suchc a shame you were too badly injured for me to save you with the resources I have available, sir. I’m sure your loss will be felt by the Crusade… But the relief that your loss by those who were inflicted by your temper and tyranny far outweigh the sorrow caused by your death.” He keeps increasing the pressure on the other’s broken ribs, feeling them shift.

The jagged, broken bone-shards dig into the bastard’s lungs deeper and deeper. 

Jerahmiel’ glare was scorching.

Cedric was wholly unthreatened by him. He had the upper hand here, not this firstborn bastard.

Cedric laughed, breathing and victorious as he felt the other’s rib bones slide up into the fucker’s hearts. He kept pressing and shoving until the sergeant’s hearts had stopped beating and his body went limp.

Cedric then removed the other’s geneseed, placing it carefully in the appropriate container for viability testing. After that, Cedric removed all viable useful organts, implants and prosthetics. He had the other stripped of his rumor armor and weapons. Everything of value was sent off to their proper places.

After that, Cedric carried the bastard’s cooling body over to the promethium-fueled flaming body pit and tossed the sergeant’s corpse into it. As his body caught fire, Cedric dutifully logged Jerahmiel ‘s injuries and that he was KIA.

The young apothecary returned to his assigned medical tent, carefully cleaning all of his tools and the table, his hearts light and his conscience clear. 

As an Apothecary, two of his jobs were harm reduction and threat nullification. Brother-sargeant Jerahmiel had killed a half-dozen primaris marines with no good cause, and his kills had begun to become more frequent and starting to cluster together. As were the excessive beatings and other acts of cruelty the fucker had visited upon living primaris marines. Cedric took pride in every aspect of being an Apothecary, and would neutralize other threats as the opportunity to do so came up. So long as his curtailing of cruelty did not cause more suffering amongst his fellow Primaris marines, of course.

Cedric hears more running footsteps and greets his next injured Brother-patient with a gentle and concerned smile on his face.

[anomaly-hivemind]

We’ll meet again || Double penetration in one hole and public w/ Bill cipher x fem reader

Word Count: 1993

Masterlist

Tag: Double penetration in one hole, vaginal sex, Exhibitionism, public, Overstimulation, dubcon

Note: The reader is slightly black-coded. Nickname is Dimples or honey lips

You got a full time job at this mystery shack in the middle of the forest. You had been working there for maybe a total of three months with little to no issues, until it became the start of the summer. Then came two young kids and all the oddities that seem to have started when they got there. Staying with their Grunkle which was also your boss, you got to know everyone well.

“Hey Y/N do you mind watching over the shack for me for a few hours, I’m taking Mable and Dipper out for a bit” Stan said while already basically out the door so you just nod. It was a long slow hour of nothingness, maybe an old lady or two but nothing interesting to make you pay attention to anything.

“So one save me from this boredom,” You groan and rub your forehead. You could only play with pens and paper clips for so long. You heard a ring and turned to face the door, but there wasn’t anyone around as far as you could tell.

“I’ve only seen you around recently how fun” A voice behind you makes you turn to it with wide eyes and you lean against the register. A guy who didn't really seem all there was standing behind the counter with you. ‘Where did this bum come from, how the fuck did he get behind you in th first place.’ You thought with a panic as you looked at the unnatural yellow glow in his eyes and felt like he was peering into your soul nonconsensually might you add.

“Sir you can’t be behind the counter” You try to keep a kind voice in hope to not upset the potential crackhead that had wandered into the mystery slack.

“BuUt I came to answer your pleas of boredom dimples. definitely not to find something of importance. ” He spoke dramatically before mumbling something under his breath.

“My what now.. Sir please just set back into being in front of the counter.” Instead of doing what you asked, he took a step closer and unfortunately for you that ass of yours was not moving any closer to the register than you already were.

He moved his arms on both sides of you and smiled an uncanny smile that made you shiver. Next thing you know you are moving onto the counter to escape his attempt to trap you. Like hell were you gonna get murdered by some random probably drunk stranger for drug money. You liked it here but not enough to get yourself killed and mutilated for it.

“That tremble of yours is pretty cute Honey lips, filling my head with all kinds of things.” you make a run to the door but before you could open it the yellow eyed guy stood in front of the door blocking the fastest exit out.

The room felt cold and shaped all of sudden and you felt like you were a deer in headlights. You couldn't move anything but move your head which is what tipped you off that this was no normal paralysis.

“What the hell did you do to me!” You yelled at him in a concerned voice. The guy uses your stuck body to lean against your shoulder.

“You have a pleasing meatsuit Dimples.” he whispered in your ear.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?!” your voice got shaky as you tried to keep the confidence you definitely didn’t have right now.

“Name’s Bill! But you can call me your new lord and master for all of eternity!” The guy’s body drops to the ground in front of you and out comes a bright yellow triangle with one eye and a top hat pops up in his place floating around. “Oh so i’m tripping balls right now, inhaling the wrong type of air that's what going on right now.”

“I am very real despite what that simple brain of yours thinks.” he rolls his eye at you as he flies around you in a close circle.

“You are nuts.” you shake your head, who would have thought that your mundane need to cure your boredom would lead to… well whatever this was right now.

“Well it's not my fault your corrupt mind brought my attention, so what was it you wanted Dimples.” you don't answer so he speaks again.

“Entertainment was it, well honey lips consider me willing to entertain…But in exchange you gotta entertain me.”

“How would i do that” you felt dumb even entertaining this Dorito thing.

“How ‘bout I reverse the functions of every hole on your face.” his eyes smiled or so that's what you think his face was doin at least.

“How about no.”

“No fun boo, mhm how about something we both can enjoy” He had his hand in front of his face where his chin would have had if he wasn’t, well if he wasn’t a triangle.

“Like what?”

“You'll just have to take the chance and Trust me.” There was a slight giggled that came from his lip face. his hand lit up in a blue fire and you realized you could move again.

“But why are you doing this?” you tried to ask but he only gives you a cryptic answer.

“Boredom is my worst enemy, so I'm here to save you,” he said loudly.

You were definitely going to regret this lapse in judgment you were about to have. You raised your hand and shook the demon's hand with great hesitation. ‘Was I fucking stupid, i gotta be brain dead to shake the hand of a demon who gave me vague information of his probably dangerous arrangement i agreed to already. Sign my life way I guess.’

He snapped his fingers and your clothes were gone, you let out a shrill as you covered the important bits the best you could.

“No amount of gold on earth can buy originality…but you're come close enough.” Move your arms away.

You felt very exposed, you were naked in your work space in front of this triangle being of unknown origins. You were in the middle of the room and anybody could come inside the place, hell Stan and the kids could come back at any time then next thing you know it you’re a register offender. You could only hope that what this chip shaped man demon thing had in planned for you wouldn’t last that long.

In a flash Bill grows a body and keeps his triangle head that has changed into a pyramid. He was also equally as naked as you are, Plus he looked Hot to add to it. You look him up and down but your eyes get stuck on a thing well two things actually. Two dark cocks that were long and thick at his base, erect and twitching. You were staring at them and you were drooling a bit. It was embarrassing.

“This form pique your interest?” He stroked himself slowly as if he was giving a show for you. You don’t catch yourself nodding to his question and before you know it he is up against you, dick touching you everytime he curves it in a stroke. He moved you closer to the counter, your bare ass touching the desk.

“Let's get started, Honey lips.” he rubbed the tips over your fold and let out a funny happy sounding noise.

“So wet already~ who would have thought you could be so needy and wanting.” he pushed one of his veiny cocks into you, all the way to in until kissed it on your cervix. You let out a loud squeal like moan as you arched your back. There was no way you were going to cum, not from him just sliding into you…right.

“Feel free to cum at any time, I'm super giving Dimples.” he started to move his hips, your pussy regards no shame as it makes wet squelches as he tickles your g-spot. Your hole sucking in him it's making you feel like a slut.

“Fuckin… Ah~” you feel your legs start to shake from his mean pace inside of you. Bill starts to push his other cockhead and you clench around them. You cum around them as soon as he pushes the other one all the way inside as well. Stretching you out like never before, it felt like you were touching stars.

You have no time to recover from his movement because he doesn't stop, letting out a groan and mumbling to himself about how snug your pussy felt around him. Your ears burn as he teases you for cumming so fast and mentioning how he was just getting started with you. He starts to push almost all the way out before ramming back into out then repeating. Your eyes start to water as you reach another climax right after the other.

“You are mighty easy to please Honey lips.” he groaned and pushed you over on the counter, you were now laying back on the cold desk in a daze as he held your legs up at his waist. Your walls flutter around the girth of the two dicks of his inside of you.

“I can’t take it!” you whine as you feel an orgasm number who knows you're not keeping track start to approach you.

“Limits only exist in the mind.” Bill rolled his hips at an odd angle that it was almost like his dicks were moving at different times. He gives a squeeze to your breast and you shiver.

He kept moving his hips in this devious way that was starting to make you spasm and moan. Bill moved his hand down your body and he started to play and tease your clit, the whole action makes you choke out a cry as you feel a pool of wet hit yours and his thighs. ‘Did I just?!’

“YOU DID?” He answers your thoughts with an overly happy tone that was embarrassing. He kept thrusting his hips into you and circling your clit and you impulse your legs shut. You didn't think you could cum anymore but this DEMON has proved that to not be true in the slightless.

“Can you try not to lose consciousness, it won't make me stop.” He spoke through breathy groans. Bill’s words make you clench around you again, you could see the specks of darkness forming in your vision but you try to shake them off.

He slammed his hips into you at a breathtaking pace, his was slower and harder and it literally took your breath out of your lungs with each thrust. You could feel him twitching in you, a dead give away that he was close to coming. His pace brought you back to another painful yet pleasuring orgasm, his hand went back to your clit to run a slow tight pattern on you.

His hips sputter and he comes in heavy thick ropes of cum, filling you up like a pie. Pools of his seed dripped out of you when he pulled out of you a bit too fast for comfort. You let out a quick whine.

“Your a fun time Dimples, really know how to keep up with me.” he changed back to his triangle form. You try to get up but the sudden movements make your ears ring and thighs send you any single they can. You look up at Dorito demon as he watches you struggle a bit.

“We’ll meet again, Honey lips.” his eye curls as his way of a smile, then he poofed out of nowhere.

Now you need to get some clothes before anyone sees you like this…And to wipe the cameras.

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

“𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐦𝐞” •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

synopsis: asking sylus to be more rough with you…don’t do it again.

tags: rough, spanking, edging, manhandling, creampie, degradation, explicit, vulgar, doggystyle, tears, etc.

wrd cnt: 0.9k

a/n: this one was sitting in the drafts for like a bajillion years i think

You learned your lesson now, don’t ever tell Sylus to be more rough.

It’s not like he can’t be, or doesn’t want to; because fuck does he want to.

It was for your own well being that he didn’t go too far.

So let’s say it’s your fault he’s absolutely destroying you right now, your face pushed down onto the pillow while his other hand grips tightly on your hip.

“Sy-lus…wait!” You plead, your cheek squished onto his silk pillowcase while you beg for him to slow down, only to hear a deep, rich, almost mocking laughter.

“Don't tell me you're crying already Kitten? You wanted me to rough you up a bit, what’s wrong now?” He says, his voice not far away from a growl.

You can only cry into the sheets, feeling his throbbing cock stretching out your walls as he pounded you in so hard there was sure to be a dent in the mattress. Your walls would remember the stretch and think only of him. He was ruining you for anyone else.

“Please- S-slow down…” You mewled, juices spraying out and coating your clit as it drips down, teardrop shapes sure to stain the sheets.

With a tsk, Sylus pulled out of you, the sudden change making your body scrunch up slightly.

“A complacent thing like you doesn’t deserve my cock.” He spouts, leaving a hard smack on your ass and flipping you over. He takes your wrists in one hand, pulling them above your face and pinning you while his other cups your face harshly.

“Or maybe you want me to be even more rough? Ignoring your little pleas. “Is that it, sweetie?”

Truthfully you didn’t even know what you wanted right now, but the way he was throwing you around and speaking to you made everything inside you grow more warm and wanting.

So he made the decision for you, gently smacking your face like he wanted you more awake, on your toes l, before giving you a command.

“Up. Get on all fours. You know better than to disobey, don't you?”

You knew what was good for you, apparently not when you first asked Sylus to be rough, but you knew to not push him anymore.

You weakly crawl up, palms and knees smooth against the slippery sheets.

“Good. Spread your legs a little more, let me see how messy you are down here.” He says, clearly on a mission to embarrass you.

You hesitate but only for a second, spreading your knees farther and arching your back down to give him a good view.

“Mhmm, good girl,” He coos, taking his thumb and pressing it into your slit, letting your arousal drip out with every small press; making you clench your hole around nothing.

“This pussy is so needy…and you want me to stop? Look at you. Such a pathetic little thing.”

You shudder at his words, pushing your ass back to feel more of his thumb inside you.

But that wasn’t smart. He pulled out of you, licking his finger with a pop sound leaving his mouth.

“You want more? You were just begging me to slow down, make up your mind.” He says harshly, leaving no room for any negotiations.

“Tell me what you want.” He says hastily to bridge your silence, giving your ass a harsh slap to break it.

“W-want you to fuck me more Sy…” You say quietly, your ears heating up at how embarrassing that was to say out loud.

“Louder” Sylus takes a wack at your ass again, leaving a red mark of his hand.

“More- Please!” You squeal, your eyes shut and in recovering of his harsh treatment on your body.

Without a warning, he pulls your ankles toward him, making you fall face down onto the bed; dragging your lower half to dangle off the edge as you feel hour two feet slightly touch the hardwood as he pushes on your lower back; keeping your chest pressed into the bed and your rear against his cock, eager to pummel into your waiting walls.

“Why are you shaking kitten? I haven’t even done anything yet.” He says, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your folds, sadistically poking it in and out of your hole.

“But youre right, you should be scared.” He added, grabbing your arms and pulling them back again to cuff you into position with his large grasp.

“Are you ready?” He asks, putting up a loving front before he rams his cock into you when he hears you speak another “wait!”.

You cry out, his cock kissing the deepest parts inside your velvet folds over and over at a speed you’ve never felt before.

“You’re crying again honey? You’re squeezing on me so tight…I think you like this.” He says, laughing softly as he speeds up, even as he’s fucking you on the end of the bed the bedframe starts to hit the wall with each thrust.

“Sylus-! Fuck…I-I’m gonna cum…” You whimper out, your throat dry from your moans.

“You better.” He threatens. “You’ll cum and you’re going- to. thank. me.” He says sternly, giving you a hard thrust after each word; pushing you over the edge.

You cry out, feeling the bubbling knot in your stomach tighten before coming completely snapping.

“Fuck-Sy…Sylus! T-Thank you…thank you-!” You repeated over and over, like a chant to your god.

He barely stopped, still thrusting into you, making sure you learn your lesson.

Only a few moments go by before he reached his own high, before you felt it.

He hopes you know this isn’t your last orgasm of the night.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[ashthewaterghoul]

Are You Really Okay? - A DewTom One Shot

They tried to lean forwards for another kiss, sliding forward off the bed to straddle Dew. “No, Phantom. I called red.” Dew said while wriggling out from under Phantom. The hurt in Phantom’s eyes carved a hole in Dew’s chest. “You’re always so good for me, my perfect girl.” He cupped their tear and snot striped face in his hands, “But I’m not comfortable doing anything right now. Not until you tell me what the problem is.” “It’s not me who has a fucking problem!” Phantom blurted out, practically shouting it and they both froze. Phantom never raised their voice. Or, What Dew and Phantom thought was going to be their average hotel night whilst on tour, turns into a much needed conversation neither will soon forget.

Words: 1462

Rating: Mature (it does start off spicy)

Tags: Hurt/comfort, angst, self-harm (discussed not shown), starts spicy but leads elsewhere, safeword use, they/them Phantom, confrontations, Phantom wears a dress and also gets called a 'good girl', grief/mourning, Dew and Phantom need hugs, scars.

A/n: Both Dew and Phantom's anatomies are left ambiguous here because ultimately, it doesn't matter. It can be whatever you want! Mind the tags and enjoy!

Title taken from 'Are You Really Okay?' by Sleep Token. I would say it does sort of set the vibe for the story as well.

~~~

    Dew didn’t know what city they were in, and his brain was too fuzzy to remember how Papa had addressed the crowd just hours before. It was their day off tomorrow, so they were in a hotel tonight. The pack had been out clubbing, and after many intoxicating substances, they all split off to make the most of the space and privacy that a hotel afforded but a tour bus did not.

    Dew had been staring at Phantom all day. From the moment he noticed them wearing one of Rory’s crop tops to soundcheck, their lovely little curves as they warmed up and seeing that nimble body on stage. When they all showered and changed for their night out, Dew nearly went weak in the knees when he saw Phantom in a tight little black dress that started just under their armpits and ended just below their butt.

    So, Dew didn’t know what city he was in, and he didn’t care. All he cared about was that Phantom was finally under him in the hotel room.

    Both still fully clothed and hands flying all over each other’s bodies. Their lips were melding together in a filthy kiss that was more fang and tongue than anything, Phantom desperately gripping handfuls of Dew’s black dress shirt which he had purposefully left rather open the whole night, his tattoos and piercings on display for all to see and it had achieved its goal of driving Phantom mad.

    “Calm down, Bug, I’m not going anywhere.” Dew chuckled against Phantom’s lips.

    Phantom whined, “Please. Need you.” they said, untucking Dew’s shirt out of his waistband and trying to undo what few buttons he did actually fasten.

    “I’ve got you, baby. Gonna take good care of you, yeah?” Dew said, moving to kiss down Phantom’s neck and purposefully focusing on a spot in the junction of their neck and shoulder, intent on leaving a mark there.

    When Phantom had finished with the final button, Dew helped get the shirt off his shoulders and thrown in a heap on the floor. He pulled back a moment to start working on his belt, and Phantom’s legs wrapped tight around his waist.

    “No, don’t leave me.”

    Dew saw a certain desperation in Phantom’s eyes that he usually only saw when they had been going for a while or doing more intense scenes, and this was neither.

Read below the cut or on ao3

    “Phantom.” Dew threw his belt to the floor and cupped one side of their jaw in his calloused palm, “Are you okay? What’s your colour, Bat?”

    “Green, so fucking green. Please, need you.” Phantom said immediately.

    “You’ll tell me if that changes, yeah?” Dew asked, face fully serious, no amount of anything would ever stop Dew from making sure they were comfortable.

    “Yes, now please-“ Phantom cut themself off by launching their mouth back against Dew’s causing him to chuckle low in his throat.

    Dew rolled up what little of Phantom’s dress covered of their lower half, providing a more direct point of contact for the two. Phantom started panting and squirming against Dew, making his own interest pique. Phantom was also letting delicious little moans and whimpers fall out and Dew swallowed as many as he could. He put a hand on each side of Phantom’s torso and bracketed them in. Phantom’s hands went to each of Dew’s forearms and they kept letting little whines fall out as their claws skirted across the uneven skin.

    “So fucking gorgeous. All for me.” Dew said.

    “Yours, all yours.” Phantom affirmed, their feet kicking at Dew’s waistband to get it to budge.

    “Be patient, Bat. I’ve waited all day for this, we don’t want it to be over too quick do we?”

    “Fuck, please! Need you. Don’t ever want to go a second without you, I can’t. Please!” Phantom said, tears starting to bead on their lashes.

    Dew’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight, knowing something was wrong, but Phantom’s deft fingers were already fussing with Dew’s button and zipper, pushing right against where he’d been burning for them all day.

    “Bug-“

    “Shut up, please. Want- need you. Dewy, please.” Phantom was practically sobbing. And Dew sobered immediately, anxiety churning deep in his stomach and smothering the flames that had been steadily growing all day.

    “No. Bug, no. I’m calling red.”

    Dew backed away enough so his core was out of Phantom’s reach.

    “No! Dew, please. I need you so bad.” They were sobbing now.

    “Not when you’re like this.” Dew said, grabbing Phantom’s hands and bringing them to sit up on the edge of the bed, fixing the short dress back down and cover up what little it could. He knelt down on the floor before them, “Something’s up with you, what is it?”

    “Nothing, I promise!” Well that wasn’t convincing at all, “I’m just horny, I just need you, please! Wanna be good for you, wanna be your good girl.”

    They tried to lean forwards for another kiss, sliding forward off the bed to straddle Dew.

    “No, Phantom. I called red.” Dew said while wriggling out from under Phantom.

    The hurt in Phantom’s eyes carved a hole in Dew’s chest.

    “You’re always so good for me, my perfect girl.” He cupped their tear and snot striped face in his hands, “But I’m not comfortable doing anything right now. Not until you tell me what the problem is.”

    “It’s not me who has a fucking problem!” Phantom blurted out, practically shouting it and they both froze. Phantom never raised their voice.

    “Wh- what do you mean?” Dew asked, his hands dropping from their face.

    Phantom took a deep breath, steadying their voice against their tears, “We’ve all noticed. It feels like we’re watching you wither away. I can’t lose you.” They rambled.

    Dew’s mind immediately understood. He wasn’t exactly making any effort to hide it, but he was hoping no one would notice.

    “I can’t help it.” Dew said, backing away in shame as his arms wrapped around his own torso.

    “So let us help. Don’t leave us, please.” Phantom begged, crawling over to be face to face with Dew and taking his hand, holding it tight to their chest and putting all his fresh little scars on full display.

    “I’m sorry, it’s the only thing that feels right. It’s the only pain I can control.”

    Dew’s soul had been in a torrent of hurt since Aether was forced back to Hell, and it had taken a long time for Dew to even accept simply living in the same space as Phantom. But he had gotten over it and gotten better. Or so he thought. It was about a month into the tour when Dew got off stage and instinctively searched for Aether. And in a terribly glorious moment where he completely forgot, he panicked and spiralled thinking that something had happened to Aether, terrified that he couldn’t see his mate. Of course something had happened, it was just months prior.

    Since then, Dew had fallen back into his habit of self-harming. He didn’t really know what the goal was, if he wanted to live on, if he just wanted some pain to remind him he was alive. It was just the only thing he could think of doing to fill the void that Aether had left.

    “You can’t leave us. You can’t leave me.” Phantom said, “I finally have you, you’re in my very soul. I won’t loose you.”

    Dew choked on his tongue as he felt the unbridled emotions filling the shitty little hotel room in who-fucking-knows-where.

    “Please, Dew.” Phantom begged, “Stop hurting yourself. It’s hurting all of us too.”

    And if that didn’t cut deeper then any blade Dew had put to his skin.

    “Bat, I-“

    “We all love you.” Phantom said, before putting a gentle kiss to one of Dew’s new scars, “We’re all here for you.” Another kiss, “Just let us help you.” Another kiss.

    Phantom went along Dew’s arms and torso and kissed each and every mark, laving it with the love Dew hadn’t shown himself for a while.

    “I’m sorry, Bat. I’m so sorry.” Dew said, pulling Phantom in for a bone crushing hug that they returned. It felt as though they thought he would fade away at any moment, and that just made Dew hold on tighter.

    “I’ll try, I promise. I’m sorry.” Dew repeated like a mantra.

    “We all love you so much, Dewy. I love you so much.” Phantom cried, kissing whatever they could reach without loosening their hold, “Please never forget that.”

    “I’ll try, I promise I’ll try.” Dew swore.

    And he meant it. With all his heart, with all the love he had for his pack, current and lost, he meant it. He could only hope he wouldn’t be too weak to let everyone down.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you to @magpiepills, @schnarfer, and @ace-turned-confused for the tags! Also shout out to @thundermartini and @sawymredfox for the tags last week as well.

Heeeey! It's Wednesday and I'm doing this on time.

Been feeling pretty burnt out on writing, but slowly chugging along on some pieces. Honestly, a lot of effort has been going into a rewrite/edit of my first fic so by the time I'm done with that my brain is gone. My busy time for work is right around the corner, so I'm putting more pressure on myself to write, thus making me not want to write. Brains are fun!

I'm in the Dieter Den. Still working on the follow up to Golden Girl.

He listens as you softly hum into the breezy night air. A pleasant smile is stretched across your face, your eyes sit a little hazier from the bottle of champagne that you’re holding by the neck.  You stop, and bobble back and forth. He grabs your arms, supporting your wobbly form.  “You good?” he asks. “Yes *hiccup* just— haven’t felt this free in awhile,” your body thuds against his chest. His heart feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest. “Like, GOD, it fucking sucks, but also like, fuck Warren, he didn’t deserve ME.” He wants to tell you how he agrees with you wholeheartedly, he wants to pour his rapid beating heart out to you in the middle of this quiet neighborhood. He doesn’t, you’re going through enough, and he respects you–nay–loves you far too much to divulge his years-long secret devotion to you.

I also have been close to finishing my "Slut!" themed Dieter piece... writing poetry here folks.

A faint car alarm in the distance accompanies the sound of the water colliding with Dieter’s thrusts into your accepting cunt. You laugh against his wet chest when you realize he’s pacing himself to the beep.  BEEP SPLASH BEEP SPLASH BEEP SPLASH

If you've already posted please tag me so I can see and scream at you. Tagging: @mothandpidgeon, @burntheedges, @sawymredfox, @beefrobeefcal, @secretelephanttattoo

@yopossum, @guiltyasdave, @jolapeno, @bitchesuntitled, @sp00kymulderr, @thundermartini