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mountainsandmayhem · 6 months ago

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BDSMaid - Chapter 1

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: 18+ Chapter Summary: To save money for law school, you accept a job at Maid Discretely; a high end, anonymous cleaning service. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in, more than just your curiosity peaks. CW: Author chooses not to use warnings in this chapter in order to avoid spoilers. While I never want to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. AN: Oh boy, here we go! I'm in a straight PANIC getting ready to post this. I hope it meets all your expectations, I was not at all expecting that reaction to the teaser post. Love you all and thank you for all your support. Please share or comment, I have a praise kink LOL. Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for future chapters. Dividers and support banners by @saradika-graphics. Thank you @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk and @burntheedges for being my little cheerleaders over this, ily!! Chapter Word Count: 4.4k

You stare down at the very intimidating legal document you have clasped in your clammy hands. There are so many big legal sounding words that seem to be mocking you with their importance. Somehow there are clauses that have sub clauses that are then further broken down into sub-subclauses. It feels heavy to be handed this on a Monday morning. Truthfully, this doesn’t seem like something a soon-to-be twenty-one year old woman who literally just graduated college, albeit a semester early, should be allowed to sign without parents and a lawyer present.

This is just supposed to be a simple job working part time as a maid for your best friend's family’s cleaning company. A job where she promised easy money and part time hours that you set for yourself. The perfect opportunity for you to be able to save money AND set aside lots of study time for your upcoming LSAT rewrite. You passed it a few months ago and applied to a bunch of law schools, but you aren’t going to waste these next few months waiting around. You know how competitive law schools can be, so you’re preparing to be better just in case you don’t get in.

Your eyes scan words that your brain can’t seem to comprehend. The internal panic starts to bubble in your chest, someone who has law aspirations should know what these words mean.

This is just supposed to be easy. Cleaning. Vacuuming. Washing floors. Simple things.

But now, as you sit in this shiny, fancy downtown office building looking at your full legal name typed beside a bunch of ‘initial here’ and ‘sign here’ lines on a nondisclosure agreement you’re starting to feel like this is anything but simple.

“Our clientele is VERY exclusive,” your childhood best friend Jamie says. She looks very professional and grown up sitting behind her glass desk. Her long, toned legs are crossed, the slit along the side of her crisp, white pencil skirt showing off her tanned upper thigh. She’s paired her white skirt with a baby pink silky blouse that's perfectly tucked into the high waist of the skirt. Her long, dark silky hair is twisted into a jeweled claw clip. Even though you’re the same age she has an air of sophistication and grace, even with winged eyeliner, a matte pink lip, and a slender rose gold septum ring that sits tight to her little button nose. She almost screams old Hollywood in the middle of Austin, Texas.

She continues, “You won’t know the names of the clients and they will never be home. If they do come home, leave immediately, and try your best not to be seen or heard. Then you can fill out in the company app what you did and didn’t manage to get done.”

You put the paper down on her perfect desk so she can’t see your hands shaking. How can you work at that desk all day and not get a single fingerprint or smudge on it? There’s a very good chance that I am not cut out for this. This is fancy. And expensive. I’m neither of those things.

“What am I gonna be walking in on at these houses, Jamie?” You ask, swallowing the fiberglass that’s suddenly prickling at your throat.

Jamie shakes her head and laughs, saying your name through her melodic giggles. “Most likely nothing. We’ve never had an encounter or run in with a client. They pick times for cleaners to come when they aren’t home.” She leans back in her high backed chair and continues, “But the clients are big deals. Politicians. Judges. Athletes. The odd celebrity. They don’t want anyone in their home that will snoop or snap pictures. Hence the NDA.”

“Well, why didn’t you start with that!” You laugh. “Jesus, I thought I’d be walking into like a virginal sacrifice or some shit!”

“Well, there was that one time…” Your face drops and she immediately starts laughing again. “I’m kidding. Relax. Look, you’ll probably get three homes a week, each house will take six to eight hours. The hourly pay is twenty dollars plus whatever tip they’ll leave you in these black envelopes.”

She puts a perfectly polished finger on a stack of black envelopes with a red ‘Maid Discretely’ logo on it and continues, “In my experience, the tips are around five hundred, completely tax free. This is a good gig! You’ll be in law school becoming smarter than all of us in no time. Fuck, you’ll be writing insane contracts like those before we know it.”

She stands, one hand resting on the desk while the other slides the paper towards you with a closed pen. She drops the writing apparatus on top of it, the metal casing of the pen clanging loudly on her glass desk. You let out an exasperated sigh, dramatically clicking the pen before signing the NDA. Jamie claps her hands excitedly then snatches the contract away before you can rip it up and says, “Let’s get your uniform and supplies!”

She hands you a few fitted white polo style t-shirts, black dress pants, white Keds (that she scolds are for inside the houses only), a caddy full of high end cleaning supplies, a top of the line Dyson vacuum and everything else you’ll need.

She ends your meeting with instructions on how the company's scheduling and tracking app works. "Essentially, you set the days and times you’re available and it will populate for you. You’ll have addresses, dates and times, as well as tasks to be done, all nicely laid out for you. If a client likes you, they can request you for additional shifts, but for continuity purposes you should get the same couple houses that you’ll rotate through throughout the month."

You nod along, mostly surprised to hear the girl who did a keg stand just a few days ago sound so professional, using words like 'continuity purposes'.

The next day you have your first official shift. Tuesday from nine to three and you’re scheduled at a mansion in a neighborhood you’ve never heard of and you most definitely wouldn’t fit in to. Jamie is already waiting there for you when you pull up. She explained yesterday that she’d help you with the first one and then you are on your own after that. Well, not completely alone. Your iPhone is loaded full of smutty audio books, murder podcasts, and law books to listen to as you clean.

Jamie was right, you think to yourself as you scroll to the latest romance novel you’ve downloaded and grab your AirPods, this is a good gig.

The house is absolutely massive, and you highly doubt you’ll be done in six hours. You gather all your stuff and head up to the house. Jamie shows you where the company supplied key box is and how to open it from the app. As you grab the key Jamie excitedly says, “This used to be my client. He always leaves a huge tip!”

You unlock the large front glass door and enter into a white marble foyer. The windows on the first floor are easily ten feet tall and allow in so much natural light. Gold and obsidian swirls in the marble reflect along the walls, dancing in the sunlight. To the left of the front door is a large open kitchen that might be bigger than your entire apartment. The marble of the expansive countertop is the same colour as the foyer. All the cabinetry is matte black with brushed gold handles. The kitchen opens into a lavish living room, a massive fireplace and TV sits on the far back left wall, encompassed by a very cozy looking white sectional.

To the right of the front door, starting furthest away from where you stand in awe, is a door to a huge half bathroom, followed by a long table with a bowl for keys and mail, and then the door that leads to the garage. About fifty feet in front of you is a grand staircase that branches out to the left and right. Beyond the staircase you can see into the backyard. This is by far the nicest house you’ve ever been in.

As both you and Jamie slip into your keds she says, “Upstairs to the left are a few bedrooms and the office. I usually started there and then went to the right side where he has a huge entertainment area. Then I would clean down here since he doesn’t cook very often and it’s usually just a quick wipe down.”

Just as you start to panic over how you’re supposed to remember all this she nudges you and adds, “But that’s all in the app for you, most of the clients are very particular so they’ll lay out exactly what order you should be cleaning in, as well as any other extra things they need done.”

She helps you carry all your stuff upstairs and then watches you work. Sure enough, the app says to start in the office so you do just that. Careful not to disturb the few piles of paperwork you dust the desk and shelves and then wipe down the windows and computer screen. You vacuum the hardwood and plush rug last and after Jamie gives you an approving nod, you move onto the next room.

You continue like that, going from room to room, your friend, and now boss, occasionally giving feedback or leaving to answer a phone call or respond to an email. The job is easy enough; repeating the same steps in each room over and over again. It’s the exact type of work you exceed at. You enjoy having clear sets of instructions and expectations, and a prioritized list where you can start at the top and work down. You’ve always excelled at following meticulous directions in school. Your life maybe not so much. When it comes to dating or your parents you aren’t one to do what you’re told.

When one o’clock rolls around you just have one bathroom upstairs and the already pristine downstairs to tend to, but Jamie coaxes you into taking your break, which is another thing you’re bad at. You were raised not to take breaks, taking a break or doing nothing means you're lazy. You should be working all the time, and pushing yourself to accomplish things. As a child you’d push and push yourself to be the best, honor roll ceremonies were the only time your dad would show up. He’d smile and brag about you to whoever was around.

“It’s important that you take all your supplies to your car with you when you eat your lunch. Never eat in their homes and never park on their driveways.” You nod and hoist all your stuff to the front step. “Make sure you lock up like you’re leaving too.”

“How am I doing so far?” You ask as you lock the door, your stomach growling loudly as if it needs to prove to her how hard you’re working. You hadn’t realized how much of an appetite you’d gain just from cleaning. The few stale crackers and small can of tuna you managed to find in your cupboard this morning doesn’t seem like it’s going to be enough.

“Really well! I actually think I might leave you to finish up. Don’t forget to take whatever he left for you out of the black envelope on the kitchen counter.” She doesn’t look up at you, her fingers tapping out an email on her shiny iphone screen. She doesn’t have her phone in a case and you can only imagine the level of self confidence you have to have to carry around an expensive item unprotected like that.

“Is it weird that there’s no pictures or anything of the family that lives here?” You say curiously as you both walk towards your parked vehicles.

“No,” she says flatly. “I think it’s just one person here and that’s pretty normal for the houses you’ll be cleaning. Lots of them are rarely home or only home to sleep.”

You gawk at the massive house from across the street as you throw all your supplies in the back of your used and rusted SUV. One person lives here. Alone. How is this possible? He’s clearly doing well for himself. Either he’s really lonely or a complete asshole.

After you eat, you head back inside to finish up cleaning. The entire house looks like a show home. Not a single thing out of place. The kitchen seems staged, void of life aside from a tiny droplet of coffee on the countertop beside the Italian coffee maker, and a tiny brown stegosaurus toy that sits on top of it. Two minutes before the end of your shift you do a final sweep to make sure you haven’t left anything behind and then slip open the black envelope. Inside you find seven one hundred dollars and a note that just says ‘TY - JM’.

As you log your day in the company app you can’t believe you just made seven hundred freaking dollars to clean up after a man who makes no messes. You excitedly check your upcoming schedule and it looks like you’ll be back here in two more weeks. You could potentially be getting fourteen hundred dollars a month from this elusive “JM”. A man with no pictures or personal touches in his shiny white, black and gold mansion.

It’s been almost two weeks since your first clean at JM’s house. Your other clients were good tippers, usually between four to five hundred, but you’ve been looking forward to going back. You know you’re not supposed to know who the clients are, but you couldn’t help but google JM to try to figure out who he is and how he has so much money. In hindsight, you guess all your clients have money, but something about him has alerted your curiosity. He seems like smoke, or a ghost, in his own home. Your other clients had some sort of semblance of life in their houses. A dent in the pillow. An open newspaper on the kitchen table. A coffee cup dropped in the sink before they headed off to whatever fancy job they have to afford such a massive house. A toilet seat left up or a smudge of toothpaste on the mirror.

But not JM.

No, the only thing JM left was a tiny droplet of coffee. Coffee that was probably imported straight from Italy. You’re almost ashamed of the amount of times you’ve wondered about that stegosaurus toy. It seems so out of place in his house of clean lines and sterility.

You’re just settling in to enjoy a Sunday night of sushi, rosé and Bridgerton with your roommate when your phone bings, a little red notification bubble popping up on the Maid Discretely app. You have an added shift request for JM tomorrow. Instead of one six hour shift on Tuesday you now have two six hour shifts. You accept the request and scroll through the tasks. He’s requested you to wipe the baseboards and lightswitches on the main floor, a deep scrub of every bathroom, as well as doing the inside of the fridge, stove and microwave. There are also instructions for washing the sheets in the main bedroom, and spraying down the patio furniture around the pool.

Only a millionaire in Texas would ask for his pool furniture to be cleaned in February.

Shortly after you accept the shift you get a text from Jamie:

Saw you accepted the shift. The client asked for the normal clean on the first day, please. Extras the next day. Thanks.

The following morning you head to the large, bright mansion. Parking across the street and hauling all your stuff in. It feels a bit weird to be here on a Monday and you have a feeling you’ll be reminding yourself all day that it is indeed Monday and not Tuesday.

You get all your stuff together, change into your indoor company issued keds and head up the stairs. The pink and orange hues of the sunrise glitters off the white marble tiles, glints of gold and sparkling black reflecting off of it. You take a second to look down from the landing as you pop in your airpods. It really is a beautiful home, and it’s too bad that whoever lives here is either lonely or an asshole, but for a split second you let yourself pretend that you and JM just finished making love and he’s now in the kitchen making you an espresso or a latte with that insanely fancy coffee machine in the kitchen. You shake your head at yourself. You didn’t find anything when googling, which isn’t surprising since two letters aren’t much to go on, but this house seems to draw you in, like it’s calling to you. It’s strange, it’s almost like you have a crush on this house and you couldn’t help but make a whole persona for whoever lives here. Even with its clean lines and lack of life, something about it settles in your gut, it feels like home.

You scroll your podcast app trying to pick what episode you want to listen to and head down the hall, you can’t seem to decide so you pocket your phone without starting anything and reach for the matte black handle of the office door. You’re expecting to see JM’s tidy office with a few stacks of paperwork in one corner, but the sight you find before you has all the blood rush from your head and your stomach dropping right out of your body. Your jaw drops and you freeze in utter shock and fear.

Instead of the usual stacks of paper, there’s an icy blond haired woman tied to the desk. She’s completely naked and on her back with her legs spread wide. Her ankles are tied to the legs of the desk with a scratchy looking rope, her wrists wrapped in matching rope and resting above her head. Her nipples are almost purple underneath the clothespin attached to them. You freeze, just the lewd wet noises of her pussy being worked furiously by the mysterious, fully clothed JM. His deep, commanding, gravel filled voice reverberates through the office. “Little fuckin' slut. Gonna split you in two.”

The woman lets out an unashamed cry of pleasure. Your entire body seems to go numb as your caddy falls from your hand, crashing loudly against the hardwood flooring. His head whips to the side, the icy blonde woman letting out a scream and trying to cover herself up. Your hands cover your mouth and even though you can’t feel your legs you spin and run for the stairs.

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait,” JM calls after you.

One of your AirPods falls from your ear as you run, you’re tempted to stop and grab it but you need to get out of here. Jamie’s voice echoes through your skull, ‘try your hardest not to be seen or heard’.

He catches up to you as you reach the front entryway, his strong hand pushing the door closed. You can feel the heat of his body against your back. You’re shaking - both from being terrified and embarrassed. You have so many thoughts running through your mind. This will get you fired, or worse, you could have just possibly lost the company a client. Fuck. You aren’t supposed to know who lives here and you certainly aren’t supposed to see them doing that.

“Please wait,” he says softly behind you and the heat of his broad body sends a chill down your spine.

The blood is rushing through your ears as your heart pounds in your throat. You don’t like confrontation and even with the softness in his voice, you’re sure he’s about to scream at you. You feel sick, and when you replay the words he said to the woman upstairs, and the sound of her moan that made you drop your caddy you start to feel dizzy and nervous.

Your hand falls from the handle of the front door and the brick wall of a man behind you steps back. You spin slowly to face him but keep your eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, linking your fingers in front of you and focusing all your attention on the cuticle of your right thumb.

“No, please. This is my fault.” You trail your eyes from the floor to him. He's in perfectly pressed black dress pants paired with a white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his forearms and he’s holding his hands up in front of himself as if to show you he isn’t armed or as a way to say 'you’re safe here'.

You flick your eyes up to his face and he’s looking at you softly, the morning sunrise lighting up his tanned face and salt and pepper hair. JM is probably twice your age, but he is incredibly handsome.

“I am so sorry. I must’a got my days mixed up when I booked you.” He says, a soft southern accent sneaking out.

“I’m going to get fired,” you respond shakily.

“No,” he says stepping forward, you subsequently take a step back, pressing your body against the glass front door. Something about this man makes you nervous, but not in the same way women are trained to be nervous of strange men that are almost twice their size. “No. This is my fault. Please, let me explain. I jus’ gotta - well, can I go deal with…” his head cocks towards the stairs, “And then let me explain. Please?”

You look at him, his handsome face all soft and apologetic. His dark brown and amber eyes dance around your face and without realizing you're even doing it, you nod your head.

“Thank you,” he drops his hands at his side, visibly relaxing at your decision not to run. “Sit at the island for me. I’ll be back.”

He watches you as you pad over to the island. The tall bar chair squeaks on the tile floor as you pull it out. He peels his eyes from you and heads upstairs. When you sit you have to stop from moaning out, the pressure of your body weight there sends a wave of rolling pleasure through you.

What the fuck?

It’s a dull, throbbing ache followed by a small gush of thick wetness. Did you mistake a feeling of arousal for dizziness and nervousness upstairs? Were you turned on by what you just witnessed?

Certainly not. There’s no way! He was, well, he wasn’t being nice to that woman.

Soon you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and towards the foyer, his body blocks her from your view as they talk at the front door. They speak in hushed voices, all you’re able to make out is her saying thank you followed by the sound of a soft kiss and then she’s gone.

She thanked him? It seems like he should be thanking her.

He wanders into the kitchen and your throat goes impossibly dry. As if he can read your every need, he grabs a glass from the cabinet, puts it under the water dispenser on his fridge door and then slides the glass across the large island to you. You have to lift off the chair to reach it, whispering a thank you before taking a sip.

JM leans against the countertop beside the fridge and watches you take a long drink. You put the glass down with a quiet clink and then fold your hands in your lap. His eye contact is intense, not in a creepy way, it’s almost like he’s assessing you. You find it hard to look at him so you avert your gaze to the glass.

He clears his throat gently before he starts. “I jus’ want to say how sorry I am. You didn’t consent to seein’ any of that and I can’t imagine how awful that was for you.” His voice is so calm and soft.

You flick your eyes up to him, “No, this is my fault. I am not suppose-“

JM shakes his head and holds up one hand, signaling you to stop. “No. This was me. I got my days mixed up. Meant to book ya for next week. This ain’t on you. This was my mistake. If it’s ok for me to ask, what’s your name?”

You mumble your name into your glass and down the rest of your water. You figure you’re probably fired either way so who cares if he knows who you are. His face ticks up slightly, almost like he’s proud of you for drinking, and says your name back to you.

“I ain’t gonna say anythin’ to your boss and I understand if you want to leave for the day. I’ll pay ya either way. I also understand if you say somethin’ to them and I can’t be a client anymore. It was unacceptable for me to be doin’ that when you’re supposed to be here. There ain’t any other way to word it. I was inappropriate and wrong.” He steps forward and holds his hand out so you slide the glass across to him.

He refills it and puts it back for you to grab. “No,” you say, your voice cracking. After clearing your throat you continue, “No, I appreciate your apology but I’m not going to say anything.”

He watches you again as you drain the glass, the same look of pride flashes across his eyes, “I’ll - umm - I’ll be in my office. You can uh,” he runs a hand through his scruff, “You just do whatever you need. I’ll stay outta your way.”

He disappears before you can say anything else. You head up the stairs after a few minutes to find your cleaning caddy sitting in the hall with everything placed neatly where it belongs. His office door is closed and you can hear the deep rumble of his voice while he’s on a call. You grab your things, head into the master bedroom and begin cleaning.

A few hours later while you’re sitting in your car eating lunch, the garage door opens and JM goes whipping past you in the sexiest blacked out sports car you’ve ever seen. He doesn’t even look over you as he speeds by. Your heart sinks, it's unexplainable but being in that house with him there, even after what you witnessed, felt more comfortable than being alone. JM must have some sort of magic touch, how you went from nervous and embarrassed to calm and comforted with just the look on his face and few words is beyond you.

After wiping down the kitchen you are all done for the day. You grab the black and red envelope off the kitchen counter and open it, peering in nervously. There’s a piece of matte black paper on top. You slide it out gently, the paper feels expensive between your fingers. As you unfold it you reveal a shiny black JMK logo at the top. In neat gold lettering is his writing.

‘Please know how sorry I am. Your consent is more important than anything. I broke that. Just hope I didn't break your trust. -Joel Miller.’

At the bottom of the envelope are ten crisp one hundred dollar bills.

Next Chapter

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aurumalatus · 1 month ago

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BRIGHELLA, THE HELLRAISER

pairing. kinich x fem!reader wc. 1.9k genre/warnings. harbinger!kinich, reader is tied up, generally unsettling lol, yan!kinich vibes summary. after a failed infiltration, you fall into the clutches of the tenth harbinger, brighella, otherwise known as kinich. unluckily for you, he's interested in you. author's note. this was supposed to be smaller but i couldn't stop. maybe i'll write a longer fic ab this in the future bc i'm kind of obsessed with the idea lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

The watchful moon hanging outside has become a familiar companion.

You can’t remember how many days you’ve sat here, wrists bound to your chair. The Snezhnayan winter does not come gentle, or so you have learned over the past few weeks—a deep chill has already set into your bones, and you fear that the frostbite has already crawled over your extremities. Outside, snow is piled waist-deep, threatening to swallow any passersby whole, never to return.

These winters kill, and so do their inhabitants.

With that in mind, you know better than to let your guard down in this land, especially with this man in front of you.

The Tenth Harbinger, Brighella. The Hellraiser.

There’s a chilling sort of beauty to him. His features are sharp and sculpted, with dark hair and thick lashes. His eyes seem to be the highlight, an exploding star of gold and green—it stands out against the white of his cloak.

You silently admit to yourself that he’s quite handsome.

“Lord Brighella, sir,” one of the agents greets quickly, stumbling through his words. The appearance of the man has a thread of fear running down your spine. He enters without so much as a ‘hello’, but each of his footsteps seems to increase the pressure in the room—you can feel the density gathering in your throat.

The skirmishers form a tight line against the wall, saluting to their superior. He doesn’t even spare them a glance as he passes.

“We found her sneaking around here, we were just about to bring her to your judgment—”

“Leave her to me,” the man interrupts, seemingly bored. The moon slips away from the window, leaving you in darkness—in this gloom, all you can see is the glittering gold of his eyes, cold. He flicks a wrist at his subordinates. “You’re dismissed.”

The skirmishers hesitate at the order, much to your surprise. If it were you in their shoes, the chilling aura of the man would have you fleeing without delay. One of them—the one with the Pyro vision—steps forward, bowing.

“My Lord, I would never doubt your strength, but do take caution. She was able to take down quite a few of our fellow soldiers before being apprehended.”

If he has any lingering irritation about his order being ignored, he doesn’t show it—instead, he circles you slowly, his cloak a whisper against the floor. Each languid step seems to leave a growing shadow in its wake, his presence haunting over your quivering shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” he soothes, though his words are absent of warmth. “If she raises a finger against me, I’ll kill her on the spot.”

It’s a thinly-veiled promise.

You swallow down the lump in your throat. He watches, a dim smile playing on the edges of his lips.

Sensing the unrest, his subordinates slowly filter out of the room, the door clicking shut with a tone of finality. You almost miss their presence—the air seems to flush out of the room with them, and you find yourself struggling to fill your lungs.

For a while, the Harbinger doesn’t speak. He merely circles you with an assessing eye. Each movement is nearly robotic, not betraying a single thought. You don’t dare risk any motion, fearing retaliation—with your hands bound, you wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight.

Something swirls in the darkness, something sinister and encroaching in the space—a predator in the shadows. The Harbinger notices your wandering stare, and, to your surprise, chuckles.

“Ajaw can get a bit antsy,” he explains, unnaturally calm. “Don’t mind him for right now.”

Grimly, you reassess your own strength. Even without your hands bound, you doubt that you would be able to stand against this man at all.

You gather your courage in your hands, holding it steadfast—even if you die here, you should not die quietly.

“Lord Brighella—”

“You can call me Kinich,” he cuts in, shrugging. His cloak brushes the floor, ghostly in its movements. “I have no care for those titles.”

He seems genuine, but you don’t chance at using his name, fearing a bluff.

“Are you going to kill me?” you ask instead, voice tinny and thin.

The question seems to amuse him.

Slowly, the man leans forward, until his eyes are level with yours. There’s something lurking in his irises, something dark and writhing. You note the uniqueness of his pupils, the draconic nature of them. They seem to pierce your very soul.

“Do you want me to kill you?” he asks. It’s not playful, or even mocking—he’s entirely serious, and that is scarier.

His honesty forces your own. You break eye contact, humiliated by your own cowardice.

“...No,” you admit quietly, “please don’t kill me.”

The Hellraiser—no, Kinich—leans away from you, satisfied with your answer. Even the presence behind him seems placated, shrinking further into the dark.

“I like you,” he declares simply. “I like people who say what they mean.”

You don’t know what to make of the Harbinger’s supposed informality. It all feels like a trick, like a means to lower your defenses. But you’re smarter, you reason, so you keep your mouth firmly shut. Kinich tilts his head at your inaction.

“You don’t like me.”

The statement leaves you spluttering, taken aback. Though you don’t exactly hold him in good favor, you know better than to offend the Harbinger with your life in his hands. Luckily, he doesn’t seem upset by that fact—he shrugs, resigned.

“I’m a Harbinger. You don’t know anything about me, so of course you’re being cautious. I suspect you don’t like Fatui very much.”

That much would be an understatement, you think absently. But revealing more of yourself gives the Harbinger more to work with, so you merely nod. He hums in reply.

“I understand that. They keep me on quite a short leash,” he sighs, brushing dust from the thick fur lining his cloak. You wonder how the cloth remains such a pristine white, even when the wearer’s hands are so steeped in blood. “Things can get a bit…messy when Ajaw comes to play.”

He says it as easily as one recounts a grocery list, like it’s no big deal that he’s carrying a murderous beast within him.

You know the rumors. On accident, you’d seen pictures of the last incident that The Hellraiser was involved in. The sight had you running to vomit, unable to stomach the gore and brutality of it all. They whisper that even the Harbinger himself cannot control the draconic beast past a certain point, resulting in his lowered rank.

The thought that the same man is standing in the room with you right now has the hair raising on the back of your neck.

If this monster—Ajaw—decides to kill you after all, you would be powerless against him. The thought has you wrestling with your mortality, facing a terror you’ve never truly felt in your life. You’d known the dangers when you walked into that Fatui stronghold, but you never imagined it would lead you into the jaws of the beast.

A cold sweat freezes over the back of your neck.

Kinich eyes you curiously, then glances out the window. The landscape is blanketed with freezing snow outside, resting in the solitude of night. You know the sight well, having become quite acquainted in your time locked up here. If asked, you could probably recreate the entire view from memory.

“It’s cold,” he states quietly. There’s a far away look in his eyes. “Not anything like Natlan.”

The admission leaves you surprised. You’d be lying if you said you knew that the Harbinger hailed from your own home country. Then again, not many people know anything about the Harbingers at all.

“Yeah,” you reply, tentative. “I hate it.”

Kinich outstretches a hand, fingers brushing over the frosted window. The ice flees at his touch, melting away from the contact, dripping down the glass. The movement pushes a bit of his cloak aside, revealing his clothes underneath—a Dendro vision hangs at his belt, alongside a Pyro delusion. The sight has you gasping quietly, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“I used to hate it too, at first,” he murmurs, absently tracing shapes in the window. “It’s always cold, and it’s so much worse in the winter. It’s so cold it feels like you could die.”

Each word is laced with nostalgia, memories of a time long past. You wonder what led him here, to the land of ice, what led him to abandon the nation of Pyro and its archon. He’s surprisingly calm, so much so that you ponder what led him to this life of bloodshed, of strife.

He draws more mindless swirls in the frost, his fingertips wet with condensation.

“But there’s purpose here, at least for me. So I endure the ice.”

You’ve heard stories of the Tsaritsa’s enduring love, a powerful force that draws so many formidable characters to her side. For so many of them to join in extending her will, she must have some sort of unshakeable charisma to her.

Kinich’s gaze hardens, touch lifting away from the glass. “And, well, nothing feels worse than being unwanted and…discarded.”

His words drip with spite, with malice.

It feels entirely too personal—you wonder if he meant to be so vulnerable in front of you, or maybe he sees you as so beneath him that he doesn’t care. After all, dead men tell no tales.

You fear that the latter is true when he suddenly turns back to you, striding forward. You flinch back into your seat, nowhere to run, even as he draws close. He doesn’t stop until he’s mere inches away from you, so close that his breath brushes your lips.

“So tell me,” he says, softly bracing one hand on the arm of your chair, “how would you like to join the Fatui?”

No thoughts come to mind initially—the proximity and the shock of the offer has your brain in a frenzy, unable to focus on anything in particular.

“What?”

It’s all that you can manage in reply, a whisper.

Kinich tilts his head, regarding each feature of your face. His gaze seems to tear skin from bone, leaving you vulnerable and raw. Each movement of his eye is sharp, sweeping over you with a brush of heat.

“I find you interesting,” he remarks, honest. “So I’ll make you mine. You can work under me.”

Though you have limited knowledge of the inner workings of the Fatui, you find it hard to believe that the process to be inducted is so simple. After all, it had been your attempt to infiltrate their stronghold that had landed you here—there’s no way they would trust you to be one of their own.

“I…”

You hesitate, reeling, unable to find the words to say. The proposition seems so ridiculous that you can’t manage a genuine response. Kinich watches you through his lashes with a potent fascination, like you’re a caged animal.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he soothes. You find yourself sinking into the deep velvet of his promise, a haunting spell. “Just be mine, and I’ll take care of it.”

Gently, his fingers brush against your chin, tilting your head up to face him more clearly. You pick out the gleaming jade in his irises, the beauty of it. He thumbs over your bottom lip, tantalizing and slow.

“Okay?”

Absently, you nod, lost in the mystique of him.

“Okay,” you murmur back.

Kinich smiles, and the razor sharpness of his teeth flashes in the dark.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich x reader #kinich #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #kinich x you #genshin impact x you #adeptus ink #dividers by cafekitsune!

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storiesoflilies · 26 days ago

Text

a touch of salt, a taste of flesh

synopsis: in which toji cannot decide whether or not he wants to eat or love the pretty little human he saved from drowning. w.c: 2k.

pairing: merman!toji fushiguro x f!reader.

warnings: mature themes! mentions of gore and blood, mentions of drowning, open ending. sfw but MDNI!

a/n: if you saw me post this yesterday no you didn’t. please don’t let the fic flop this time lol. heavily inspired by this delicious art!

divider / ao3

the ocean loved to keep her secrets.

she coveted every single one of them, for each was a precious pearl of knowledge about her soul. to know even a single one was to be doomed to a life of fear, to be at the mercy of her passing whims, because you could never tell when she would decide to punish you for it and bash you into pieces.

she didn’t think she knew anything at all about the ocean.

but here she was, coughing up salty secrets trapped deep within her lungs.

again.

while a pair of green eyes watched her.

they were always watching her.

“why do you continue to tempt the sea?” he purred, a slight smirk touching his lips. “little human”

little human.

because that is what she was, and what he most certainly wasn't.

it was in the way he smiled at her – cold and dark and cruel as the smothering sea that had tried snuff her out, curling around her throat like tendrils of seaweed.

a dark, shark-like tail rose from the sea as the creature tilted his head, wet strands of his black hair dripping to the side. he winced every time she coughed some more, as if it were far too loud for his liking, and looked down at her like she was a grain of sand stuck between his scales.

she probably was nothing.

especially not to something like him.

“do you really need to know what it’s like when death creeps up on you?” he continued, dismissively waving a clawed, scaly hand at her. “i could always just tell you how it feels.”

she sucked in a shaky, pathetic heaving breath of sea air into her chest, still gasping and sputtering onto the white-washed sand. the coarse grains scratched her palms painfully, and she tried to calm herself, breathing in and out with the rise and fall of the tide.

his eyes narrowed playfully, thin slits of green in the night. “there, there. you’ll be just fine.”

she didn’t feel like she would be.

there was nothing comforting about him at all.

he was a predator.

his teeth were just that little bit longer than they should be – sharper, pearlescent, and flashing dangerously in the silver moonlight. even though this was the third time he has saved her from succumbing to the depths of the sea, she still didn’t know why he had saved her, or why he still continued to.

but it had to be for something.

or else, he wouldn’t have saved her the first time. he would have let her fingers disappear beneath the waves forever, let her sink to the bottom of the darkest ocean. he wouldn’t keep on watching her from the shoreline, circling round and round the island like a shark drawing ever closer to its prey.

waiting to strike, ready to bite.

“why?” was all she could muster in a hoarse voice, sand tickling her throat.

“why?” he repeated, that saccharine smirk playing on his lips again. “why what, little human?”

“why do you keep on singing?”

the green slits widened a fraction, and he started to laugh. her heart hammered against her chest, and she was afraid she might have said the wrong thing.

“is that what you would call it?” he asked incredulously, a sprinkle of offense creeping into his voice. “singing?”

she gulped.

what else would she call it?

that was what it sounded like to her. she would sit beneath a gnarled tree at the cliffs’ edge, where the earth dipped sharply towards the sea, its rocky face curled over the sea like an old man’s wrinkly hand. there, she would listen, trying to make sense of the strange words wafting from his tongue in the salty breeze.

she would’ve started a war for him.

would have shoved her arms into the bodies of the bent and broken, rummage through all their bones to offer him their still-warm, unbeating hearts.

but there was something in his haunting baritone that made her want to cry, to surrender to the sea, naively believing she could somehow help save him from his own restlessness. to block out the echoing memories that, in that moment, were blurred together and she wasn’t sure if they belonged to him or her.

there had to be some kind of magic involved.

because tonight was the third time she had heard his haunting song.

and the third time she had mindlessly wandered into the arms of the ocean and her false welcome, full of promises she had no intention of keeping.

despite knowing full well that she couldn’t even swim.

his laughter died with the wind, a low, lilting hum lingering at the edge of his words. “maybe you shouldn’t be listening so closely,” he murmured, his eyes heavy with something that looked like hunger. “the sea doesn’t sing for humans.”

he drifted a touch closer to where she was lying, slicing through the shallow water like a blade. she sat up straight, digging her heels into the sand to scramble away from him.

“and yet, here you are,” he said, amusement curling his lips. “again.”

she licked the salt from the cracks in her lips, stuttering, “i-i don’t k-know why.”

maybe it was her obvious helplessness, or perhaps he could smell her hopeless desperation like rotting flesh, but his eyes softened.

“it’s the call for my…” he trailed off, smacking his lips as he searched for the word. “heart.”

he said the it disdainfully, like he didn’t really want to believe he had a heart at all. she couldn’t imagine that he had one either, or that it wanted for anything beyond his most base desires.

flesh and blood.

“your heart?” she repeated in disbelief.

he glowered at her, his tail flicking through the water in annoyance. “yes,” he said, adding much more quietly. “and it seems i’ve found it.”

run away, now.

“w-what?” she sputtered, salt-coated sand flying to the back of her throat.

the creature grinned widely, mischievous fangs glinting, “oh, you know, little human.”

she did know; she just didn’t want to admit it.

“i-i never– i don’t understand.”

“no? then why do you keep trying to swim to me?”

she didn’t know what to say to that.

it was silent for a long time, the sweeping sea moving backwards and forwards like the ebb of time between them. she could see more of him too, even though she knew better than to look.

and he was beautiful.

his tail was longer than she thought, silky smooth and gray like a shark’s was, marred with pink scars and rakes as deep and painful as the ocean. it curled high above his head as he lay belly down in the sand.

oh, but his eyes.

they were a chest of shimmering emeralds, locked onto her every minuscule movement. but his pupils were infinite, a black hole of mysteries and knowledge of ancients city that had come and gone, of seas of blood and red misery.

yet, he was here, on this unremarkable beach at the edge of the world, calling for his heart – for her.

and she’d somehow answered.

“what’s your name?” she blurted out.

there was a strange rumble in his chest before he replied with, “toji.”

toji.

it reminded her of the cold kiss of winter, the inevitable conquest of snow over the trees and blooms, covering everything in its white death. he belonged to the ice-covered seas of the north and south, definitely not from places where the sun and joy pierced through the waves.

there was no doubt that toji was king of those icy seas, reigning supreme over the darkness found within the kelp forests of the deep trenches.

“how old are you?”

toji tilted his head curiously, completely silent as he pondered and searched for an answer.

“how long have humans sailed the seas?”

how very lonely.

she knew she shouldn’t feel anything for toji, least of all feel sorry for him. but here she was, itching for him to take her hand and drag her into the depths he called home. maybe that was what his song meant; perhaps all he wanted was someone to share in ruling over the ice and sea.

how ironic that she couldn’t even swim.

he drummed his sharp fingers against a closed fist, slow and irritatingly suspenseful. “you’re bleeding, you know?”

she frowned and looked down at both sides of her palms, between her pruned fingers, and then further down.

oh.

there was a small stream of blood beneath her left foot, trailing toward the sea before being swept away with the tide.

straight towards toji.

that was when she saw the dangerous twitch dancing on his scarred lip, and she realized just how long he had been holding back for.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered breathlessly, and she truly meant it.

toji’s eyes narrowed again, but there was a spark of anger in them this time. “don’t apologize,” he hissed. “never– not for that.”

for that, for bleeding.

would a shark thank her for covering up a wound?

she didn’t think so.

toji asked for her name, and she offered it freely, willingly. he repeated it loudly, the deep baritone of his voice starting to sing her name in an increasingly agitated-sounding tone.

mine, mine, mine.

her name wasn’t her own anymore.

he was looking at her now, like he wanted to slice open her chest, pull out her heart, and play with the strings that made it beat. to shove his fingers into her aorta to say that he had been really inside her – his – heart.

mine, mine, mine.

and then, his cold hand was gripping her ankle, claws lightly digging into her skin.

she let out a yelp as toji dragged her toward him, the sea rushing over her cheeks and into her ears. he was on top of her, the wetness of the sea bleeding into her, his weight heavy and suffocating, pushing every bit of air out of her fragile lungs. his fingers dug deep into her thighs, just about to pierce through the plush skin.

she beat against the hardness of his chest, “t- cough! toji, please, stop.”

but he wasn’t really there, caught somewhere between the whispering blood ocean and the misty memories haunting his soul.

a pearly tear slipped down his cheek.

“i ca-ah! can’t breath.”

the same deep sound rumbled from his chest, and toji lifted himself up from her ever so slightly. she sucked in great gasping breaths, her eyes teary and blurry as she looked at him through lashes laden with salt.

another milky tear fell from his left eye and dripped down onto the curve of her cheek.

“would you slip away?” toji whispered, his voice rolling over her like the tide, but he sounded far, far away. “into the sea, for me.”

she didn’t want to.

but then he started to hum low and sweet, his wet lips pressed to her neck, and she was ready to.

she could see through the mist and blood now, far above the clouds and the sky and the sun breaking through the horizon. her heart was burning with salt and secrets – secrets she didn’t know she possessed.

until now.

that she was one with the sea, and maybe always had been. so, she didn’t mind all that toji was slowly pulling her towards the depths instead of away from them.

a flash of brilliant green lit up the sky.

was it toji’s eyes or a farewell from the sorrowful sun?

she didn’t know; she didn’t care anymore.

she was his to keep now.

ི♡࿐

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji fic #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen au #jjk au #jjk fanfic

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madamechrissy · 21 days ago

Text

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Duchess Reader

♔ Content/Warnings: Light angst, cunnilingus, fingering, blow jobs, cum swallowing, spitting/spit kink, rough sex, dirty talk, name calling, low key breed kink, toxic attraction, lots of emotions, lots of sex. OOC.

♔ Word count: this chap: 12k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you - Don't read this if you want a nice Gojo lol.

Comments and Reblogs appreciated <3

Part Nine - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Ten

“Riding bareback, you are slutty.” Satoru teases as you ride the white horse next to him, you both chose to ride horses today rather than the carriage. You stick your tongue out, earning his laugh.

“Oh, you’re just mad I’m better at riding than you.”

“You certainly look sexy riding it. Wonder how you’d ride me?” You gasp now, and he chuckles, clicking his boots gently and nudging his black horse on, you nudge yours as well, by rubbing her neck, whispering to her.

“Let’s kick his ass, darling Snow.” She neighs softly, as you squeeze your thighs around her, and giggle as she sets off, passing Satoru in moments.

“Hey now! Brats.” Your hair is flying in a wave behind you, the wind blowing through your face, and in these moments it’s difficult to remember Satoru was terrible before, that you’re not likely going to be together for long.

How easy it is to forget.

That morning he’d had coffee ready for you, and surprised you with a brand new saddle for your pretty horse. You had melted at that gesture, sure he was terrible before, sure you remembered it, but you appreciated what he was doing now. Satoru had helped you set it all up, and before that you all had brought baskets together for the village, medicines and herbs to help.

He was heavily involved in it all, he was not skimping on his duties, and now as you both trot along, and he looks at you so intensely, his blue eyes shining in the sunlight, you’re enamored against your own judgment. You’ve never felt this, could it be from last night? Could it be physical? Or was it…

More.

He had not touched you today aside from helping you up your horse, yet even that moment had you a flustered mess, as if you were courting as a young girl, those little moments with Suguru long ago, and even with Satoru originally. You remember he was a little distant but you felt giddy as he would promenade with you, getting so thrilled from his flowers he’d bring.

You frequently wonder even more now how things could have been if he had not chosen this path, this heartbreaking path that has irrevocably changed you, you are not and never will be the same. Satoru had changed everything you once knew, those lofty dreams you had were crushed when you had your wedding night, only for you to feel so much last night it shattered anything.

You think upon sweet Nanami, how you’ve left him heartbroken and had not truly meant to, you would have been content with Nanami, you just felt it was wrong to lead him to believe your feelings were at that level. His face now in your head breaks your heart, you wish you had not hurt him so.

Physically just kissing Satoru eclipsed anything you’d done with Nanami at all, even when those kisses were brutal and toxic, when he’d smacked and choked you, it did things to you none of Nanami’s careful, skilled touch could. That made you feel even worse, Nanami had not trusted you for good reason, but how could you tell your… husband… no when your entire being craved it?

Nanami was better off without you.

He’d have been better off without you ever talking to him, ever sharing your pain with him, and he wanted to save you so badly from yourself, and you bitterly know you’re just a disappointment to him. It was as if you disappointed everyone at times, except…

“Deep in thought, Princess?” Satoru asks, making you sigh, looking over at him, your hands gently holding the reins under your silk gloves.

“Indeed.”

“Thinking of your baker?”

“I destroyed him, Satoru.” You whisper, and he frowns then, nudging his horse a little closer, to fall into step with you, a hand reaching to touch your thigh, burning you with his touch.

“Destroyed him?” He asks, softly, instead of getting angry you’re thinking of Nanami. It surprises you, so different from how Nanami reacted, it was as if Satoru knew that it hurt you and did not mind listening, like he just accepts that it did happen.

It oddly brings you more comfort knowing you can speak of such things, though you do not want to hurt Satoru either. Did not want to hurt anyone anymore.

“He begged me to stay, and I fully turned him down. He must hate me now, I would not blame him.”

He clears his throat, hands gripping just a little tighter now, heating you up from the touch. “Why did you turn him down?”

You look at him, your hand touching his, biting your lower lip as your horses trot slowly next to each other. “My feelings were no match for his, how could I let him believe they were? It would be wrong. But I know he loved me.”

“Did he really know you, though…”

“What, are you saying if he did, he wouldn’t?”

“No, bratty girl. I just wonder, does he know how mean you are? How ridiculously snarky?”

“Fuck off, Satoru.” You laugh though, and he smirks.

“He dodged a bullet with you- ow!” You smack the fuck out of him, and he feigns pain now, laughing softly. “No, let me be serious, of course he fell in love quickly, especially… making love to you, you’re so beautiful, you’re smart, those sounds you make? How you feel… yes, I believe anyone would.”

His words bring vivid memories of last night to your mind, of him inside of you, so deep, you couldn’t figure out where he ended and you began. Fuck.

“We should not speak of these things.” You say, looking away nervously, at the rolling green hill, the village coming into view.

“Why not?”

“Because we were unfaithful-”

“In a marriage we were forced into. And I regret it, surely, all of it, but I do not think you should judge yourself so harshly.”

You look at him carefully. “You’re being kind.”

“Is it so odd?”

“It’ll take getting used to. I suppose I just feel terrible for coming into his life, and for him loving me when I could not return it.”

“Do you know what love is, little Princess?” You look at him seriously then, shaking your head. “Then how do you know you did not?”

You brush your fingers down the back of his hand now. “He explained this feeling, where he could not bear to be without me, and I’m afraid I did not share that. That he had fallen so deeply, but for me it was a comfort, a joy, something pleasurable. Perhaps like your…”

“They’re not even that. They were just physical, their personalities honestly annoyed me. They’re simple I guess.”

“You chose that. Intimidated by smart girls?”

“Terrified of you.” You meet his smile, finally easing your hand off his, sighing. “Why do that? I love holding your hand.”

“We are too comfortable. Too happy. We should not be so.”

His expression hardens, he sits up more on top of his horse, back straightening. “So continue in the misery?”

“No! But… it hurts more, knowing this is how it could have always been. A beautiful relationship.” Your eyes meet, and he sways his head, but you carry on, leaving him to watch you. “Bet I’ll beat you!”

“Nah, I’ll win.” He rushes to you now, and fuck if you don’t enjoy him, laughing as he starts beating you in the race, and you feel an odd lightness you have never felt, even before him.

What is this feeling?

“They’re bootiful, Duchess!” Your sweet girl from yesterday cooes to you, her mother had returned your tiara even though you tried to let her keep it, so you have decided to make all the girls that have gathered crowns of twigs and flowers. Little crowns of white and purple flowers are sitting atop their heads, all but the last little girl you’re finishing up.

Satoru is dealing with business matters, while you have delivered the medicines and the herbs, agreeing to meet back up. He’s riding his horse and yours is right next to him in step, he’s holding the reins, and fuck if Satoru Gojo does not look sexy riding a horse. Especially in his dark blue riding gear and this top hat covering his snowy hair, that still peeks through.

You may or may not be eyeing his entire tall, lithe body when he hops down with ease, his toned legs starkly apparent in the light tan riding breeches he’s wearing, it’s clear he’s quite an equestrian. He smiles over at you, what a mess you must look like, knees in the field, your hair is loose around your shoulders, skirt covered in dirt, you certainly are not very ladylike right now.

“And what have we here, so many princesses!” He says then, as the little girls run up to him.

“Duchess made them!” They all shout nearly at once, and you laugh softly, feeling your bare hands so sore now, the sticks are snapping and smacking at you in places, but they turned out so good! And the kids smiling makes you so happy you cannot take it.

“She’s so skilled, look at this craftsmanship!” He says enthusiastically, with a wink shot your way. “Say, would you all like to pet her horse?”

“Yes please!” They all start petting Snow, Satoru’s horse wants nothing to do with them, arrogantly having his head in the air. You can’t stop the smile decorating your face, nor the warmth in your heart at the scene.

“Arrogant like his owner.” You tease as he comes closer, you’re down to the last tiara to be made finally.

“Are you talking shit, bratty girl?” You duck your head as he walks toward you, sighing now. “Aren’t you a vision?”

“I’m a mess!”

“No, you’re… a corny poet could put it correctly. I’m afraid beautiful is all I can come up with.” He leans down, studying you carefully. “In your element.”

You tilt your head, as he brushes your messy hair back gently. “Well thank you, but are you saying my element is dirt?”

“It certainly is.”

“Hey now… ugh, ow!” You look to your hands now, kneeling on the soft bed of grass, realizing you have another splinter from the twigs. Satoru looks at you, brows together, coming to kneel down in his fancy suit, surprising you when he takes your hand carefully.

“No more twigs, you’ll ruin these pretty hands.” You snort then, blowing a tuft of hair that’s fallen in front of your face.

“Can hands even be pretty?”

“Yours are. Despite the stubby fingers.”

“Hey!” He chuckles then, handing the little girl her tiara now, placing it on her head carefully with a bow. Your breath catches then, as you see this silly, goofy side of Duke Gojo, was this who he was before?

“Thank ye, yer Grace!” The girl says, running off now, and Satoru helps you up to stand, looking at your hand carefully.

“It’ll be fine until we get home, Duke. Ah!” He gently runs a fingertip along your palm.

“You have three splinters, tch. You’re not ‘fine’.”

“Oh don’t baby me, I’m a big girl.” You stick out your tongue, earning a glare from his pretty blue eyes.

“Yer Grace, please come inside, I have tweezers and antiseptic.” One of the ladies says now, looking at the Duke nervously. “It would be right cramped for a Duke and Duchess, I’m afraid…”

“Nonsense, we appreciate it.” Satoru says, his pouty pink lips turned up at the corners. You hate how your heart falters, at how sweet his smile is, his eyes crinkling at the corners just so, enrapturing you.

“Come on then, ye two, ah to have royalty in my humble home!” You follow Satoru inside the home then, a little cabin with a thatched roof, she sits you on the bed then, a little straw bed, you sit down and peek around, you notice how quaint and cute the home is.

“Oh it’s so lovely.” You say, and she blushes, shaking her head.

“Indeed not, yer Grace. Would you like me to assist?” She asks Satoru, and he shakes his head.

“No, I had enough scrapes as a boy with my friends to know how to remove splinters.” You’re surprised, you had pegged Duke Gojo for someone who really did not know how to do things like that, perhaps you have a lot you’re curious to know, before this month is up.

Why does the month ending hurt to think of?

“I’ll give ye both some privacy.” She walks out, leaving you both alone in the cozy little home.

Satoru carefully puts your hand in his lap now, gently wiping it with a washcloth that’s nice and warm. You study his face as he studies your hand carefully, his thin white brows drawn together, lips pursed just a bit, snowy lashes lowered so that you could not see the pretty blue of his eyes. He peeks at you for a moment, making you blush at getting caught staring.

“Am I so pretty to look at?” He asks with a raised brow, plucking a splinter out now, you hiss a bit.

“You are pretty and cruel, so merciless with your tweezing!” You say with a glare, earning another chuckle from him.

“Two more. Keep distracted, think of something nice. Like… hmm, cumming all over my mouth last night?”

You gasp. “Ah!” He yanks another, smirking now, and you scoff, but your body overheats, at how he’s gently gripping your wrist, sliding a thumb up along the thin veins of your inner wrist now. “Why would I think of that?”

“You tell me, you have goosebumps on your breasts, your hips are shifting, a blush decorating your cheeks. Are you thinking of it?” He whispers, leaning close, and your eyes dart to his lips, then back to his eyes.

“You would be the most slutty doctor.” He laughs then, genuinely, and it’s so bright you laugh as well.

“I probably would be, wouldn’t I?”

“You’d travel the world and sleep with every woman- oof!” He yanks the last splinter out, still laughing a bit, his broad shoulders shaking with it.

“You are so funny, I…” He blinks a bit then, clearing his throat. “I guess I did not know someone could make me laugh so much, aside from Suguru.”

“He is also quite funny, isn’t he?”

“You really kissed him, huh?” You flush again, sighing. “You do not have to explain it if you don’t want to.”

“Truly?” He nods, now leading you to the little sink, where he washes your hand carefully, just bits of blood from pulling them out.

“I deserve anything you’ve done and worse.” You hear it, his hatred of himself, and it breaks your heart into pieces.

“I will explain. It was that night when you had brought Catherine to dinner. I had a panic attack, after the um… tightening the corset comments.” You whisper, looking down now where he holds your hand, feeling emotions catch in your throat.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. You looked perfect that night.” His voice is hoarse as he dries your hand carefully inside the little cabin, and when you look up you see he is sincere, see the hurt on his face.

“Yes I… it hurt me, it triggered things that I’ve tried to fight from my own mother, and my grandmother before her. To barely eat, to the point of feeling faint, to keep my corset so tight I can’t breathe, all to be a ‘delicate lady’.” Your memories are bitter in your throat.

“That is cruel. You’re already a petite girl. Even so, to push yourself that far… it’s not okay, especially if you wish for children.”

“I know. Well you did shove those scones in my face, so we are all good now.” He smiles sadly, shaking his head.

“So Suguru kissed you after that night?”

“He followed me out, I was a disaster, I do not think he meant it other than some sort of… comfort. It’s hard to explain. To make me feel desired, attractive, when I felt so very…” You blink then, sucking in a breath to prevent your tears. Satoru is gently rubbing ointment on your hands now, staring at your palm carefully.

“I made you feel…”

“Ugly. Hideous.”

He shuts his eyes, two lines between his brows forming. “It was never so. It was I who was being hideous.” He brings your hand to his lips now, kissing each spot gently, wrecking your resolve, enhancing every feeling as you both open up more to each other. “You should not forgive that.”

“I know. But you feel remorse-”

“I remember you dropping that spoon, the clatter it made along with your pretty face, fallen. I felt so horrible, I tried to apologize, but I was still a piece of shit, and it was so half assed.”

“It was. But it’s behind us.”

He laughs without humor. “You are being too forgiving. I honestly understand why he would kiss you, he liked you long before me, and he also wished to make you feel… wanted, that is what you wished for as well.”

You nod a bit. “Yes. He did not go further, he also brought the puppy to cheer me up.”

“Suguru would be good for you. Perhaps you’d have been happy if you were arranged to marry him.” Your lips part then, stepping just a little closer, you hear the children playing outside, here the animals in the distance, chickens clucking, the whirl of the stove, but you also hear your heart race in your ears as you look at him.

“Sure, we would have been, but…”

“What if you could marry him, what if I could try to make it happen?” You exhale, shutting your eyes now, before stepping even closer, so close you inhale his scent into your nostrils, intoxicating you. His hand still holds yours carefully.

“You would do that?” He nods carefully, gulping now, pressing another kiss to your palm.

“I know he would be a good match, he’s of good standing, he would adore you, give you babies. Be a good father, be kind. If anyone had to have you, I would prefer him. I’m sorry your baker… I just cannot see that being good enough financially. You are still of high standing you know, and the scandal will nearly ruin you as is, Suguru could mitigate it, make it some ‘love match’.”

“You’ve thought this through?” He nods then, and you sigh. “You are becoming pretty caring, Satoru.”

“Me caring? Psh.” You smile softly now.

“That is caring, and selfless.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m still selfish, all I can think of is ways to make you want to stay, or ways to make up for the rest of my days if you’d let me. So do not think I’m going out without a fight.”

“I see that. Well, you have some points today, look at you, a whole medical professional.” He snorts, rolling his pretty eyes, and you take a breath, yanking him down by his tie, making him exhale against your lips. “Let me reward you, kind sir, for your care of me.”

“Fuck.” Is all he manages, his free hand yanking you by the waist, slamming his lips on yours, and you kiss him back eagerly, those violent moths in your tummy flitting into delicate butterflies. It’s a different kiss, it’s softer, sweeter, not a prelude to something sexual, it’s sweet and genuine. “How do you always taste so good?”

“I do not know, with my bitter coffee habit.” He laughs softly, cupping your face in his big hands. “It touches me that you look out for me, even if we will not be together. It means you… are trying. I see it.”

“Is it all too late?” He asks softly, and you take a breath to tell him no, it’s not too late, you may be a whole fucking fool but you feel so much with him, not just physical, but how do you open up fully, after everything?

“Satoru-” The door opens back up, and you two step back just one step each, his hand holding yours again as the lady walks back in, smiling at you both.

“So deeply in love, aren’t you both? What a dream!” She says, her hand on her chest, and you shyly look down, as Satoru stares at you.

“Falling deeper every day.” He murmurs, your eyes catch him, and you can’t take it, how easily it flows with him, how much you want to fall right in his arms. You try to compose yourself, curious if it could be true, or if he’s being sweet for the lady. But is it… true?

“Indeed, we are.” You answer softly, earning his little smile, a smile that comes to mean more by the moment.

“Are you sure you’re ready to tell me?” You ask carefully, in his study later that night, Satoru nods, clearly uncomfortable now, when he pulls out a locket, a thick rose gold one that hangs on a looped chain.

“I owe it to you, to explain this. Her name… was Adelia.” He manages to say, and you tilt your head curiously as you watch the pain on his handsome face.

“Was? Is she…”

“Not dead, though I would prefer that. I’m horrible, I know.”

“Satoru…”

“She’s banished, when I became Duke I sent her far, far away. But she’s alive and kicking, I’m sure, out in France somewhere. I gave her plenty of money for the rest of her life.” He says with a harsh laugh, then he looks at you carefully, taking your hand and looking at it. “Does it hurt?”

“Not at all, I had a good doctor.” He smiles sadly, then places the locket in your hand, and you open it, gasping.

You look at Satoru then, vulnerable and exhausted, then look back at his locket, at this woman who truly looks exactly like you, to the point it is eerie. It’s almost as if it is you, she surely is some relation or perhaps a long lost sister, the only difference is she’s older than you, and her eyes are different, just a bit. They’re the same color, but there's something cold in them.

“She looks like a twin sister.” You murmur softly, sitting down in the big leather chair Satoru frequently falls asleep in as he pours over his work. He sighs, nodding, leaning against the chair, sitting just at the arm.

“It’s uncanny, is it not?” He murmurs, and you think of him then, with her, and for some reason it makes you sick.

“It’s eerie, certainly. Adelia was her name?”

“Yes. I long ago said I’d never utter her name, but you deserve to know, as for what she did…” He stands then, walking away, pacing the study now, running a hand through his silky hair. You stand as well, walking to the center of the room and stopping him with gentle hands.

“Tell me, please, so that I may understand.” You are pleading softly, and he exhales then, nodding, but you see his jaw tense, feel his emotions rising.

“Long story cut very short, I was madly in love with her, or so I thought. She was the most beautiful thing I’d seen, she was so funny, witty, smart. Unlike anything. I was pathetic for her, spent anything I had, made myself go into debts with my father over the extravagant gifts.” You try to picture Satoru that way, and he notices. “I know it’s a far cry from who I am now.”

“No, I believe I can see you being generous.” You say softly, because the man had literally bought you a horse, and you’ve seen him be very generous with his friends and the staff. It wasn’t out of the realm.

“Generous was an understatement. I let her walk all over me, and thanked her for it. I even knew she had other men, and I’d still beg for her.” You suck in a breath, feeling the hurt, the anger emanating from him.

“Oh.” Is all you manage. “It was disloyal, so you decided to-”

“No, no, I was not disloyal once to her. I only treated you that way.” Satoru chokes on the words, taking several breaths now, as you stand in front of him, the fire crackling in the study, casting shadows of your figures across the walls, flickering flames higher and higher.

“I see.” Is all you can manage. “I suppose I did it as well, and that’s what triggered your reaction?”

“I never should have reacted that way.” He caresses your cheek softly, sighing, leaning lower. “Do not give me excuses for my actions.”

“Not excuses, they are reasons I suppose.”

“Still, even so.” His hand drops then, to your shoulder, resting on one of your puffed sleeves, his long fingers gently touching the fabric. “It’s not that, why I hated you for looking like her, she did something far worse.”

Your brows knit together. “Worse than cheating on you constantly?”

“Yes she… well her and my father…”

You blink then, as it all starts to fall together, Satoru’s fury at his dead father, his fear of having children because he would be just like them, and the unreasonable way he hated you on sight. She couldn’t have…

“She slept with him?” You manage softly, and he nods just a bit, taking several breaths, you gently hold his arms. “Holy fuck.”

“You have such a sailor's tongue.” He says with a little smile, as his eyes glimmer with unshed emotion. “For such a pretty mouth.”

“Satoru, I’m truly sorry. I don’t…”

“It’s no excuse for what I did. But… I hope now, it makes any sense at all. But you never, ever deserved one goddamn thing I did.” He’s looking away now, covering his face, shaking his head. “Nothing I have done to you is okay, I swear I will take it to my fucking grave, the hurt on your face-”

“Satoru.” You gently say, easing his hand down, seeing the glistening of tears on his pale cheek, you swipe it gently, and his hand is delicately holding yours, keeping it there.

“I do not deserve pity or comfort from you, I was terrible. I can’t make up for it, I can’t fix it. I can’t fix this.” His chest heaves now, and you feel your own emotions jolt to life, at his desperation. “And what’s worse, is now I find myself falling for you, and I know I’m not good enough.”

“Falling for me?” You look at him in shock, shaking your head. “Certainly a physical connection-”

“No.” He cuts you off now, bending low, pressing your back against the cherry wood desk of his. Your heart thuds in your chest, as you look up at swirling blue eyes by the fire light of the study, as it casts shadows and planes on his perfect features, features that become dear more and more as you look at them.

“No?” Your voice is a breath.

“No, not just physically. I thought so at first, your beauty outshines hers, you clearly are my type, what a lie that was.”

“Um… clearly.” You manage with a little laugh, and he glares.

“Do not excuse it, do not make light of it, any of it.”

“I am not.”

“But it’s not just physical, today when you were hand twisting fucking crowns for those kids, cutting your pretty hands on those twigs.” He takes one now, running his fingers where little scratches were left, and your breaths come faster and faster. “Yesterday, when you held that little girl. When you lit up and thanked me for that horse. When I saw your true beauty, so deep within.”

“Please… don’t. Don’t say that!” You feel your eyes burn, your throat closing up, as he steals more and more of your heart, wicked fucking Duke Gojo, but he’s serious, while he’s brushing your loose hair back, making your knees weak.

“I can’t help but say it, before you leave me forever.” His voice breaks now, and you’re clinging to his dress shirt, that’s falling loosely over his lithe body. “I love your kind heart, I love your caring nature, fuck everyone in that villiage adores you, everyone adores you. Even my goddamn former mistress, my best friends, they love you.”

You shake your head. “No, I just…”

“And every time I paraded them around, those women, you held your composure, but I know it killed you. I know it did. It hurt you. And I can’t forgive myself for it. For hurting someone so pure and sweet, and pushing you so far, so far you ran into a man’s arms, and I don’t blame you. I don’t.”

“Please don’t. Don’t say all this!”

“Say what, that my heart yearns to see that smile, the one that lights up the entire world?” You choke on your sobs, and he’s swiping at your tears, his own lip trembling as he takes a shaky breath. “That my body burns for your touch, that you haunt my every dream, and every waking moment.” His husky tone nearly breaks you then and there, as your breasts heave up and down with every breath.

“You can’t mean it. You can’t.” You choke out the words, as you feel yourself drawn to him, like he is that all consuming black hole, and you’d be fine getting destroyed if it meant being in his arms.

“I for once am honest, after a month of lies. Feel my heart.” He puts your little hand on his chest, and you feel it, pounding, making you weak, as your eyes lock upon each other.

“It cannot be true, not a word. If you felt that you would have never!”

“I grew to feel it more and more. Now it’s consuming me, whole, I’d let you walk all over me just to feel your goddamn step. I’d let you destroy me just to watch your pretty face as you do. I would do anything to see you smile, to see your face as you feel pleasure, to taste you, to-”

“Fuck, shut up, shut up!” You shove at him now, and he lets you, gulping and staring at you so pleadingly, this six foot plus man who looms so tall, seems so small and fragile. “I hate you more for saying it all! For making me believe it!” You cry out hoarsely, and he lets you smack at him, nodding, just standing there.

“You should hate me, you should never forgive me.” He whispers sullenly, and you hate that you want to forgive him, that you want him to…

“Hold me, please.” You beg softly, and he breaks with you, holding you tightly against his hard body, enwrapping his strong arms around you, as you bury your face against his chest, crying in earnest.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I will spend every moment making it up, as much as I can, before you leave.” His voice is a hoarse whisper, and you realize then, you don’t want to fucking leave. “I know I have lost you, I know I never had you.”

“Satoru.” You lean up, looking at him now, and he brushes your endless tears with his long fingers, gulping and nodding for you to continue. “I’m not saying I will stay, but I will say… I have not yet made up my mind to leave, either.”

He blinks then, with those teary lashes, sucking in a breath, his blue eyes swirling as they study you. “You haven’t!?”

“No. Not yet. It does not mean I forgive you, or even like you. But it does mean that… I wish to understand you more, to understand this more.” You take his hand, feeling the thrumming energy between you both. “I will give you that chance, the month, to show me who you are, before I decide fully.”

“I thought I had no chance. I thought you couldn’t wait to leave.” He whispers, and you take a shaky breath now.

“Well, you are trying, and I see it.”

“It’s not too late?”

“I do not know yet. Do you mean it, what you said, about seeing me, seeing me truly?”

He laughs softly, brushing your hair back tenderly, kissing your forehead, something you never thought Duke Gojo would do. “Oh, Princess, I mean every fucking word. I see your heart and soul, the kindness, but you know what I also see? Your bad mouth, your ability to destroy me with a look, your snappy little remarks.” He says with a little smirk now.

You smile a bit then, and he smiles down at you, pressing you further into the desk, and you feel your body react quickly. “Oh do you enjoy that, the way I wreck you with my words?”

“I’d let you wreck me in every fucking way.” His hand slides up your skirts now, and your breath quickens. “You’re strong, you’re not some simpering little damsel, you could probably crush me, kick my ass.”

You giggle now, then his hands pause on your bare thigh, fingering your garter belt, and your pussy reacts by clenching around nothing, your head falling back, a little sigh escaping your lips. “Kick your ass, you’re too big and tall.”

“You’re a scary little thing, I think you’d kick me in the dick.” You laugh again, and he marvels at it, his thumb making little circles closer to your heat. Your own hands slide up his chest, as he makes you feel more seen than anyone ever has, and how does he see you so well?

“I was sorely tempted after that whore on the table.”

“You and that tablecloth move? Fuck that made me hard.”

“You’re always hard, you slutty man.” Your fingers drift down to his belt, toying with him, giving him a little smile, and he smirks, his free hand cupping your face.

“I would do anything to feel you again, even knowing I do not deserve you. Give anything for you to sit on my face.”

Your tummy clenches, face flushed at the lewd, insane images he brings. “Sit on your face!? I… what!?”

He sighs, kissing you gently, finding you with his fingers finally, moaning softly as he does, you drink up his moans into your mouth. “I’ve had this fantasy of your thighs on either side of my face, pussy dripping on me.”

“Satoru that… sounds insane!”

“You could shut my mouth up, use me how you want. Ride me.” His words destroy you, his touch on your clit makes you moan, and he’s watching you hungrily, lips parted. “Fuck you’re beautiful. So wet, I want it dripping down my face.”

“We shouldn’t do this.” You whisper, but your hips are leaning forward, to more of his touch, Satoru’s lips hover just above yours, and you embarrassingly hear how wet you are when he’s rubbing between your lips.

“You shouldn’t give me anything, but you do, and I’m too selfish and greedy not to drink up every bit of it. Of you.”

“Shit.”

“You cuss so-” You yank him down now, slamming his lips upon yours, he’s grabbing at you desperately, tongue swirling in your mouth, as his fingers find you so hot and eager, soaking him. “I could never kiss another set of lips.”

“Liar.”

“Well, your other set of lips.” He says with a smirk, and you hate it, how charming he is, how handsome, how much you just fucking love him touching you, how much you enjoy him truly. You don’t want to enjoy him, you don’t want to need him, but it is a need, very much, a deep need from every part of you.

“Manwhore.” You say with a scowl, and he’s kissing you once more, biting your lower lip with sharp teeth, making you tremble as your hands now cling to his shoulders, feeling the strong muscles move as he fingers your wetness.

“You’re no pure, innocent little thing, are you now?” He raises a brow, and you’re flushed. “How many times?”

You tense a bit, looking up at him. “Twice.”

He blinks now, pausing, his mouth open. “Only twice!?”

“How much did you think? Keep fingering me and shut up, mmm.” He listens to you thank god, this man talks so fucking much, fingering you once more, pressing on that little spongy spot inside you over and over, you’re gasping and crying out as he plays you so fucking perfect.

“I thought much more. No wonder you seemed so surprised when I flipped you over, took you from behind.” He whispers in your ear now, and you heat up at the memory, as he’s breathing in your ear, making shivers slip down your spine. “Did you get this wet for him?”

“No, you stupid man. Fuck you for that too.” He slips two inside of you now, pressing up over and over, your thighs trembling as you overheat now, desire pooling and bringing you closer and closer. “Mmm!”

“Those sounds you make, fuck.” He pulls back to look at you, cupping your face, the intensity of his stare with his pumping fingers in your slick cunt make you rise higher and higher. “You’re so sexy, so beautiful.”

“You don’t-”

“I do think so, I know so. Every bit of you.” He’s pressing in so deep you can’t take it, kissing down your throat now, your breasts, and your hands enwrap in his hair, as you crave more and more of him, as you lose yourself to it. You feel as if somehow you are yourself more with him than you could be with anyone, you didn’t have to be ‘perfect’ anymore.

“I shouldn’t want this so badly.” You whisper, pulling back, but he’s fucking into you with those fingers, drawing you closer and closer.

“Cum on my fingers, please. Let me watch you.” He murmurs, eyes lidded, and you do then, you fall apart, head falling back, nearly collapsing on his desk as you’re pulsing around his fingers. Your entire body lit up. “Fuck.”

“Mnh.” Satoru hungrily slides up your skirts then, bringing you to him, your thighs gripping his lithe hips, taking his two fingers now and putting them in your mouth.

“Suck yourself off, like a good little slut, would you?” You glare, biting him, and he chuckles even as he shakes his hand, exhaling and studying you so intensely. “You’re a vicious little thing.”

“Fuck you.” You yank him closer again however, and he’s slamming things off his desk, papers flying.

“Fuck you right here, huh? I want you in my bed.”

“We’ll get there. And my bed, I would like to burn yours.”

“Burn it hmm?”

“Indeed.” You slip off his dress shirt now, exhaling as you run fingers down his every muscle. “Your body is so…”

“So?”

“Don’t get cocky. It’s so beautiful.” He unlaces your bodice now, as you’re sitting on his desk, looking up at him, and he then begins to unlace your stays, letting your breasts bounce out for his eager eyes.

“Your body is so beautiful. I almost fainted like a schoolboy when you first showed me them.” You laugh a bit, and he tilts his head, caressing the sides of them with his fingers, your nipples grow taut, he watches as they tighten for him. “I’ve heard you laugh a lot tonight.”

“I used to laugh, you know. At times.”

“It lights up your face.” You can hardly stand how he speaks, so softly, you melt in front of him. “It lights up my heart.”

You gulp now, throat dry. “You have a heart, Duke Gojo?”

“Satoru. And yes.” He cups your breasts now, bending low, your hands entwine in his silky locks as he leans over you, pressed between your thighs, you feel him, so hard and hot. “It’s perhaps shattered in pieces, but seeing you laugh, smile? It feels as if perhaps I can piece some together. Not enough for you, but you’d have it all.”

“Oh shut up.” You can’t take it, his raw emotion, how easy it would be to dive into him, but fuck you need him, need him like your air, how does one make it so hard to breathe yet he’s all you want to breathe!?

“Tell me what you want, Princess.” Satoru murmurs now, gripping your thighs and pulling you against him, you feel his length pressing on you over his breeches, and you are wanton when you grind on him, soaking him.

“No.”

“Then never mind.” He pulls away and you glare.

“Get back here.”

“And do what?”

“Fuck me.” Duke Gojo moans then, rushing back, as you eagerly unbutton his pants, as you stroke his pretty cock that springs free, watching his pretty face contorted in pleasure.

“Promise me you’ll sit on my face later, and I will.”

“Oh fine, I will, just fuck- ah!” Satoru’s pressing on your entrance now, only the edge of your ass on his desk, as he’s sucking in a breath, feeling your wetness pulse around him. You almost come from his tip again, you barely hold it together, eyes rolling back when he sinks in more and more. “Mmm!”

“Fuck you’re so tight, oh my god.” Satoru’s words break in the middle as he gasps, sinking in so deep, leaning over you now, breathing heavy in little pants as he studies your face. “Pussy so good it makes men stupid.”

“You’re already- ah- stupid!” Satoru’s shoving hard in you now, glaring, and you can’t stop the cry as you feel him stroking in and out of your soppy little cunt now, his big hands gripping your thighs, your ass, anywhere he can reach, stretching you out so good. “Satoru.”

He’s pumping into you now, and you’re feeling so good you can’t remember a goddamn thing, just whimpering. “I’ll fuck you so good, Princess, you will forget anything I did.”

“Then do it, then do it. Please.” He slams his lips on yours, before flipping you over, unzipping your skirts and leaving you bare, stripping your chemise off you in one fell swoop, before he smacks your ass. You gasp. “Excuse you?”

“Someone should punish you for your mouth.” He whispers, lifting your tummy onto the desk so you’re at level, legs dangling as he presses them wide. “Fuck, this view…”

“What are you-” You’re cut off then, as Satoru is shoving his cock back inside, you grip the desk, but he takes your hands, pressing them behind your back and holding them, using them as leverage to fuck you harder. Your moans are so loud you’re sure the entire staff can hear, feeling so much pleasure it’s blinding.

“I always wanted to fuck you so hard your tiara clatters to the fucking floor.” He huffs then, slamming into your pussy and staying there, you’re shuddering as his tip drags along your walls.

“It’s… not… I… mmm!” You’re getting fucked so good, Satoru hits so deep you can’t take it, your walls are fluttering, tightening.

“Feel you clenching around me like that, holy… fuck…” He’s smacking your ass again, stinging your cheeks, but it just makes you wetter, as does his hand pulling your hair back now, body arched into an S curve just for him. “Did he fuck you this good, your silly baker?”

“Did they feel this good, your mistresses?” You counter with a whisper, and he laughs, before groaning.

“Fuck no. No one ever has.” You hate that you enjoy hearing it so much, but you do, you love that he’s owning you, fucking into you, so big compared to you, you feel so tiny and helpless, and it’s just urging you on. “No one could feel this good.”

“Mnh…”

“So good I’d cum in you, have you round with my child.”

“Satoru!”

“I would if you wanted, fuck you’d be so sexy, cum pouring our of your little hole, mmm. I’d lick it up out of you, spit it in your mouth.”

The fuck the man is some demon, all he does is urge you on with his words, his hands, his cock until - “Satoru- cumming!”

“Good girl, good girl. Cum all over me.” He urges then, his hands letting your arms go, one wrapping around your waist, finding your clit, just pushing you further, until you’re a writhing mess, wetness gushing everywhere. “There you go, so good for me, dripping all over, aren’t you?”

“Ngh.” You cannot manage anymore words, not when he fills you with the most lewd images, not when he fills you with his cock, stuffed so deep you feel the weeping tip kissing your cervix. Satoru’s fingers rub in tantalizing circles over your clit, which twitches in response, you get so weak you lay forward on the desk, legs shaking.

“Can’t hold yourself up, are you so weak, Princess?” He whispers, menacingly, fuck him, fuck Duke Gojo- “F-fuck… oh my… you like that, don’t you?”

“Shut up, Satoru.” He laughs softly, before gasping, now hovering over you, one hand braced against the desk, the other tilting your face to the side.

“So good you’re crying?”

“C-crying because… you’re… pissing… me… off! Just shut up and- ah!” Satoru slams hard into you now, a hand around your neck, and you are arching your ass for more and more of him.

“I want to cum in you so bad, fill you up. Fuck you make me stupid.”

“You already are, remem- mmm!”

“Bratty girl.” He huffs, smacking your ass again, harder now, before gripping it, pressing your face down on his desk. “Arch that ass up, Princess.”

You weakly obey, as he’s pressing your head against the cool wood of the desk, and you’re arched up for him, for his smacks, for his thrusts. You feel drool pooling out the side of your mouth he fucks you so good, slamming into you with each thrust, hand clutching in your hair tightly. You’re getting fucked so good you can’t form a thought, except-

“More.” You plead, Satoru groans at that, obeying you, fucking you harder, faster, deeper, until you’re climaxing so hard you can scarcely breathe, shattering and twitching, pussy gripping him so tightly, you feel him everywhere. You feel him splitting you in two, filling you so good you can’t stand it.

“Cum again.” He orders, through gritted teeth, bending low over you, his chest slick with sweat against your back, slowing his thrusts now, swiping the drool from your lips, kissing the tears falling on your cheek. “Beautiful.”

“Mmm. Why do I believe- ah- you.” You whisper, when he’s pulling you up, turning you now, lifting you back on the desk, to look at you intensely, his swirling blue eyes like a storm in the evening, so hard to even look at, yet you’re drowning in them.

“You are the most beautiful thing that exists.” He is gentle suddenly, which throws you more off kilter, your cunt sucks him back in, as he’s holding onto you, kissing you, tongues so messy and slow, leisurely, like he’s exploring every inch of your mouth. You cling to his shoulders, shaking everywhere, closer and closer. “Perfect for me, made for me.”

“Shh.” You can’t handle him, falling deeper for him every moment he breathes, wishing you could hate him more, wishing you could remember at the moment how horrible he’d been, but you feel his heat, his energy, his length… his touch, and it breaks down every defense you’ve ever had.

“Love being inside of you.” He says then, pulling your hips up to grind on your cervix now, eyes drinking you in, you’re stretched so good, you feel him thicken inside, feel his every movement, as you’re soaking him, soaking so much you drip to the floor. “Love watching you.”

“I love you inside me.” You can’t hold it in, and he gasps, pausing just to look a you, your cunt is spasming around him, your head falling back weakly.

“You love it?”

“I love it, Satoru…” He kisses you again, grinding until you cum so hard you can’t breathe, gasping and clinging to him so tightly, nails digging into the taut skin of his back, burying your face in his chest as he moans, slowing his strokes.

“There it is. Good girl.”

“Don’t say that. Mnh, I’m dumb enough.” You kiss up his chest, his neck, as his hands take over your little waist, his eyes drinking you in, kissing your cheeks, your face, it’s far too intimate, it’s too much, overwhelming you, while you’re a mess around him.

“Where do you… want me to… m’close, fuck.” He whispers, and you struggle to form a coherent thought, as your inner thighs tighten around his hips, whining out at how good he feels inside your walls.

“Let me swallow you.” You whisper, and his mouth drops.

“Oh you’re such a freak, I love it.” He pumps in you harder before pulling back, and pulling you down. “On your knees, pretty.”

You eagerly get on them, looking up at him, he is stroking his slick length, you smack his hand, doing it yourself, the pearls of your ring glowing. Satoru’s free hand strokes your hair, his head falling back when you stroke him, opening your mouth. He lets out this sexy little whine when his tip hits your tongue, and you taste yourself on him as you suck him deeper.

“Oh my… slutty princess.” He whispers, but you love it, love throbbing and aching from him, love being on your knees, as he caresses your face, shoving his cock into your mouth. “F-fuck, you sure you can swallow it all?”

“Shut up and cum, Satoru.” You whisper, pulling back with a pop, and he follows your order, gasping as he cums in your mouth now, and cums so much, you swallow every bit of him up, fuck he’s so sweet, like those candies he sucks on.

You gulp down every bit, hot and sticky and pulsing down your throat, as he keeps fucking your mouth through it, more and more little spurts of cum, you greedily suck him clean, cheeks hollowing. He’s whispering a mantra of how beautiful you are, how good you are, a mess over you.

“Open up, lemme see.” You open your mouth now, tongue out, and he groans, helping you stand, gripping your chin. “Want to swallow more of me, Princess?”

You nod nervously, and he leans over you now, spitting in your mouth, gripping your chin so possessively as the stream of saliva streams. You swallow it as well, opening your mouth for his inspection, and he’s kissing you again, tongue devouring you, picking your naked body up in his arms.

“God you’re so good. Do you even know, what you look like with that mouth open wide, with those pretty eyes fucked out?” He’s kissing you over and over, and soon he’s changed how he’s holding you, bridal style. You’re shaking then, your emotions overwhelming you.

“Don’t hold me like this.” You say softly, and he shakes his head, kissing you as he carries you effortlessly.

“I should have, that night. Weigh nothing, little slip of a girl. I was wrong. So bloody wrong, about it all. Now let me do everything I have dreamed of, while I have you here.” You’re crying then, as he carries you into your room.

“You listened.” You whisper, and he’s nodding, gently laying you down on your back, leaning on top of you, hovering just so, drinking you in.

“We’ll burn that bed if you wish. I’ll do anything to keep you happy, to keep you smiling, keep you cumming.” His hands trail down your tummy, it trembles under his touch.

“I’ve already cum too much. I cannot do more, insane man.” He smiles softly then, touching you everywhere, you’re so sensitive you can’t stand it. “Perhaps after some rest, I’m sore.”

He laughs softly, nodding then. “So, may I rest here with you?”

You gulp then, biting your lower lip. “You want to lay in bed?”

“Of course I do. I yearn to hold you every night.” You shut your eyes while he strokes your arms gently, then your waist. “You will send me away, had your way with my cock and send me off like a mistress.”

“Oh stop that, silly man.” You look up at him, grinning so big against your will, and his breath catches. “What is it?”

“Every time you smile like that, it’s like you grip me here.” He puts your hand on his bare chest now, and you sigh, tracing your fingers along one of his well formed pectoral muscles.

“I want to trust this, believe this, but I’m fucking terrified. What if I let you in, and you fully destroy me?” You whisper, unable to stop your tears, Satoru’s eyes shut, he rests his head on yours.

“I know you’re scared. I can give you time. I’m doing too much-”

“No, I want it all. All of this.” You lean up now, kissing him through your tears, over and over, you’re a tangle of limbs on the bed now, he’s pulling you even closer against him, a thigh between yours, pressing up.

“I want all of you. Every bit of you.” He says huskily. “I’d let you do anything, if you just come back to me.”

“Satoru I only want you, so much so I… I thought of you when…”

“I thought of you too. About how it’d feel tighter, wetter.” You whine out when he’s shoving two fingers in your sore little entrance now, your head falling back, exposing your throat for his kisses, his bites. “Pictured that beautiful face of yours, saw you in my every dream.”

“You took over my dreams.” He moans now, slamming his lips back to yours, and you feel yourself falling further and further into the abyss that is him, into his every touch, every look, every sound he makes. You feel him wrapping you up, and you never want to escape.

“You dreamt of me?” He asks, you see him so vulnerable again, and now that you know his past, you realize how hard it must be. You cup his face gently.

“Over and over, against my will. If I dreamt of someone, your face would take over, annoying me to no end.” He grins then, pecking a kiss on your breasts now, looking up through his long white lashes.

“My dreams were not annoying.”

“Well you annoy me, so. Vex me to no end.”

“Do I? Or are you vexed that you enjoy me?” He teases, earning you rolling your eyes at him, then he’s back to fingering you, and you forget everything, as he’s pumping in and out of you, and you’re dripping everywhere, embarrassingly. “You get wetter than anyone, I swear.”

“It’s annoying too.”

“Is it now? Hear yourself.” You do then, hear the squishing, you’re blushing so furiously, and you’re feeling him hard again, right on your thigh. “Did you get your rest now?”

“I haven’t- ah - rested!” He’s running his thumb on your clit, you’re arching up for more and more of him, lost in him, in his blue eyes that kill you.

“You rode that horse so well.” He pulls you then, on his chest, grinning up at you deviously, and you’re trembling.

“I can’t sit on your face!”

“You sure can, Princess, look, there you are.” He’s gripping the plush of your inner thighs, and you’re straddling his pretty face, he moans when he looks at your pussy, licking his lips. “Is this my dessert?”

“Oh you’re insane! What if I crush you!?” You’re holding yourself up by the headboard, shaking as he laughs against you, breath tickling your pussy, making more wetness trickle down.

“You cannot crush me, foolish girl. Please, ride my face, as much as you want, you can shut me up fully.” You can’t take his sexy eyes, his beautiful lips, as you’re hesitantly easing down on him, your pussy hovering right above his face.

“If you can’t breathe will you tap me or something!?”

He laughs softly. “You will not hurt me, little Princess. Now, c’mere.” He yanks you down now, burying his face against you, you gasp, back arching, you’re clinging to his silky hair, trying to balance yourself. Your stomach tightens as he’s lapping you up, fucking you with his tongue, nose hitting your swollen nub.

“Toru!” You scream out, and he backs away then, eyes hitting yours, flicking his tongue along your slit, his hands holding your hips tightly.

“What now?” He asks, husky, and you bite your lip nervously.

“Um, it came out that way?” You whisper, he smiles then, lashes lowering, pressing a kiss on your pussy lips gently.

“I like it. Now, ride me, pull my hair all you want. Use me.”

“Fuck.” Why is this duke so stupidly attractive!?

You begin to do just that, and he’s moaning as you do, as you’re rolling your hips on his perfect features, soaking him completely, you are gasping in pleasure as his hot, wet muscle devours you. He’s licking between your lips, hitting every bit of you, and you’re even wetter, so wet you watch it drip down his face, until it’s shimmering with you, and then he’s pushing you even further down onto him.

His face is buried against you, his cock thick and hard, twitching, pre cum oozing out of the tip as he tastes you, bucking his own hips up. You feel the tension coiling in your tummy as he keeps licking and sucking, finally pulling your little clit in his hot mouth, sucking and looking up at you with those gorgeous, dilated fucking eyes, and you fall apart then.

You’re cumming all over him, gushing wetness all over him, feeling your body engulf in his flames, taking over you from head to toe, toes that are curling, your mouth open in a scream, hoarse as you roll your hips one more time. Your eyes lock on his, and he’s looking so adoringly at you, as he finally takes a breath, flicking his tongue over you once more, watching you shatter for him.

“Oh my god, Satoru… can’t take anymore.” You whimper weakly, only for him to pull you off his face, sliding you on his lap, slamming his lips on yours, as he grinds you against his length. “Satoru…”

“I liked Toru.” He teases with a smile, then moans as his tip bumps your clit, and you’re covering his cock with even more arousal, sticky and hot. “Fuck that was the sexiest thing, would you believe I haven’t done it?”

“No you’re a whore.” He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist, sitting up as you grind yourself on his cock now, whining softly at how good it feels, clinging to his shoulders.

“I have not done that, no. God I want to always have you on my lips.” He says, husky, kissing you over and over, your tongues swapping your taste, and then he’s lifting you, easing you back down his cock, you’re weak as he does, eyes going wide now. “Ride me, love.”

“Don’t call me love, ugh. Liar.” You whisper weakly, he shakes his head, kissing down your breasts, as you take more of him, inch by inch, sore legs from riding struggling to roll more on his cock, eliciting his moans.

“I did not lie today. I fall deeper for you.” He cups your face now, as he snaps his hips up into your tight cunt, and you shake your head, tears of how good he feels pricking your eyes, making you choke up. “I do.”

“Fuck you.”

“You are.” You giggle again, softly, pressing him down on his back then, your hair falling against his chest like a curtain.

“You want me to fuck you?” He nods eagerly, grabbing your ass, as you brace yourself on him, and he’s moaning, looking at your body, how your breasts sway when you start riding his cock in earnest. “So deep!”

“You’re gorgeous like this, fuck.” He’s enamored, his hands everywhere he can touch, as he lets you control everything, just urging you on here and there, watching you eagerly. “You are doing such a good job.”

“Stop saying the right thing.” He bucks his hips up with a glare, fucking up into you then, and you’re clinging to him desperately, breasts in his face now, he’s eagerly sucking them into his mouth.

“I should shut this bratty mouth up. I’m trying to be sweet, but you’re a freaky little brat.”

“Me freaky!?”

“Yes you. C’mere now.” He’s got you laying on him, his feet flattening on the bed, and now he’s fucking up into you, making you drip down his stomach, everywhere, your mouths devouring each other again. He’s desperate in his kisses, in his thrusts, and you feel yourself impossibly higher, as you’re helpless on top of him, just letting him use you so good.

“S’Toru…” He moans again, lifting your ass up with his big hands like it’s nothing, slamming you down his length so hard your mouth drops open, eyes rolling back.

“How can you feel this perfect? You’re made f’me, fucking say it.”

“N-no!”

“Say it, Princess. Just say it.”

“No!” He smacks your ass now, and you weakly cling to him, just wetter now, pussy so sore and stretched by him, but fuck you want it, you want all of Satoru, the Duke Gojo under you.

“Made for me.” He whispers through gritted teeth, you shake your head. “Stubborn, you’re so stubborn. Every inch of your little body is mine.”

“It’s not. Fuck you. Mmm!” He’s biting your throat now, grinding his hips so that his cock’s tip presses on your cervix, then your orgasm hits so hard you can hardly rememeber a thing. You can hardly keep to this timeline, to anything, all you can cling to is Satoru.

“Made for me. Say it.” He smacks you again, and you just cry out softly, weak and unable to move or hold yourself up. He flips you onto your back, hands entwining with yours, so intimate you can’t stand it, you feel like you can’t breathe when he’s laying on top, staring at you.

“Satoru…”

“Say it. That she’s made for me. Don’t I make her feel so good?” He whispers, rolling his hips again, and you moan, nodding. “Say it.”

“Made for you.” Your words are a breathy sigh, but Satoru is moaning, kissing you so deeply, one hand entwined in yours, the other gripping your hair tightly, pulling at it as he moves over you gently.

“I want you to be mine. All mine.” He says against your ear now, kissing it, biting it, and you’re senseless under him, anything you had left to fight is gone. “God I love everything about you.”

“Satoru!”

“I want to breed your pretty pussy so bad, fuck. How can you make me this way, fucking witchcraft.” He’s babbling nonsensically as he pumps, and you see his pupils are pinpoints, his eyes bright and insane. “How will I ever get over you!?”

“Just… just… feel me. Feel me. I feel you.” Your free hand touches his heart, emotions so deep as you look into his eyes you can’t handle it, you cannot take how much you are falling, it’s a neverending abyss, Satoru Gojo, you’re exhausted from holding it all back. “I just want you.”

“I just want you.” He whispers back, and then you’re so overstimulated every breath brings you higher, his hips are gently stroking, rolling, you’re reaching up for him, for more, drinking in every bit of him. “Never want this to end, fuck. Don’t even wanna cum.” His words are against your collarbone as he’s nipping, biting, declaring things that make your heart falter.

Can you trust him?

Fuck you want to.

“Would I get pregnant if you…”

His eyes go wide now. “Possibly.”

“Then you can’t…”

“Then I can’t…” He presses a hand on your stomach, leaning up and exhaling. “Not until you decide.”

“I want you to, though.” He groans at your insane confession. “Don’t… but I do… want it…”

“Fuck.” He fucks you hard for a moment, chasing his release, clinging to you desperately, then he pulls back. “Can I cum on it?”

“Will that be okay?” You ask, he nods, and you bite your lip. “You can.”

“Jesus fuck, I don’t deserve any of this.” He exhales then, pulling out, stroking his cock, and hot white ropes shoot out, hitting the outer lips of your pussy, he’s moaning as he watches it, and you’re so flushed and flustered, at how lewd it looks. His hot sticky cum all over your pussy. “Oh my god look at you.”

“It’s obscene.” You say, and he laughs then, breathless, all sweaty and glistening, cupping your chin and tilting it up.

“The obscene things I want to do to your pretty body have barely began.”

“Barely began!?”

“You’re so cute.”

“Cute!”

“Mmm. Cute and slutty looking at the same time.” He fingers the sticky substance, all out of breath as you are. “I made you a mess. Shall I clean you, Princess?”

“Why do you seem so devious!? I… Satoru!” He’s lapping up his own cum off your pussy, and then he’s leaning over you, prying your mouth open with two fingers, spitting his cum inside your mouth. You gasp as he does, only serving to make your sore pussy throb with more need.

“You’re so sexy, fuck.” He whispers, as you swallow him all up.

“You’re ridiculous, Satoru Gojo. A fiend.” He smirks, but you’re reaching down, playing with it yourself, sucking him off your fingers.

“Fuck I can’t get enough of you. You too sore?”

“Yes too sore, insane man.” You kiss him again, as both of your fluids are mixing with your saliva, dripping between you both. “I’m exhausted now.”

“Let me sleep with you, please.” He pouts, as if he hadn’t just spit his cum in your mouth, like some innocent puppy.

“Oh fine, but let’s actually clean up. And you’re making me tea.”

“I don’t know how to make fucking tea!”

“You put the kettle on!?”

“What the fuck is a kettle? I’ll fetch a servant.”

“No, you make me tea, or no sleeping in my bedchambers.” He scowls, and you glare now.

“You’re cruel and evil, I made you cum countless times, and demanding more shit from me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Fine, you teach me.” He cleans you up properly with a washcloth, then he’s dressing you in one of your night wrappers, a pretty soft pale blue, which he ties carefully in the front. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you.” You say, and he grins.

“Finally, no arguments?”

“None for the moment. Now, tea.” You drag him by his hand, and he follows you through the halls, you see several of the servants smiling and grinning, even your nan smiles softly as you two enter the kitchen. “Nan, fetch some tea please, I need to show this grown man how to make some.”

“I’ve always had a staff.” He huffs, and your Nan laughs softly, coming with a kettle and several pouches.

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, my sweet girl. Your grace.” She curtsies a bit, still giving Satoru the eye, and he sighs as she walks out.

“She wants to kill me.”

“You blame her? She had to see a lot no one else did.” It grows a little serious now, as you prepare the water, setting it in the kettle and firing it up. You look back at him as it begins to steam. “I do not say that to hurt you.”

“I know. It’s just… I cannot imagine what you went through because of me.” You hug him then, letting him sway you side to side, drinking in his presence, letting it soak into your bones, your being. “You told me to make it.”

“You can pour the water.” He snorts at that, changing the tense subject, but as he caresses your cheek, you can tell his actions weigh on him. Finally you set the bags of pretty herbs into two cups. “Let’s see a high pour.”

“A what now?” You giggle, shaking your head.

“Pour high, Satoru.”

He pours the hot, steamy water on top of the tea bags, and you both sit down at one of the servant tables, your pussy and ass so sore you wince. He grins. “Sore, huh Princess?”

“Oh do you ever shut that mouth, Satoru!?”

“When you rode my-”

“Hush, now, sip.” He blows on the steaming liquid, lips that had drank your cries, lips that did obscene things, his long fingers holding the delicate little handle of the teacup, you can barely control how much you desire him, everything about him.

“There, I made you tea, bratty girl. You’ll lay with me.” He huffs, and then snatches you up, sitting you on his lap.

“Oh fine, if you snore I shall kick you right out, you can lay in your whore bed.”

“My whore bed, hmm?”

“Mmhmm! Oh, we have a ball to go to tomorrow, I nearly forgot with all we’ve been doing in town.”

“Imagine a ball where we don’t hate each other.”

“Who says I don’t.” He smiles then, shaking his head, kissing your cheek softly, hand running down your back. “A little less though.”

“I’ll take a little less. Did you enjoy cooking so much to get away from your mother I wonder?”

“That is how it started. Ugh, she’ll be there. Back to the corset.”

“Fuck no.” He grips your little waist then, and your eyes flutter shut at how good it feels. “You’ll wear no corset, you can wear those stays, so I can see more of your pretty form.”

“Satoru…” He hums then, as you sip your tea, setting it down with a click, wrapping your arms around him. “Fuck it. I’m very happy.”

“I’m so happy with you. Like this with me.” He kisses your chest softly, where your heart races for him, snowy white hair tickling you as it falls.

“I’m scared though.”

“I know. I will keep proving to you that I can be worthy, I swear it.” He declares, eyes looking up at you, and you believe him, you really do.

Maybe you’re a fool but you feel his sincerity.

“Let us sleep, Satoru, and no more funny business. I’m sore.”

“In the morning though?”

“Satoru!” He is laughing, picking you up in his arms again, and fuck it feels good to be held like this. You’re so terrified something will happen, to ruin this, something outside of you and Satoru, so scared it gnaws at you, but it’s eased when you’re later in his arms, under your thick blankets, and he’s holding you.

Satoru Gojo, your husband, spends the first night in bed with you, after nearly a month of marriage.

You fall asleep easily for the first time since you got here.

Part Eleven

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kwanisms · 1 month ago

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Kinktober 「10:23」 — k.yeosang

» ateez menu | yeosang menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ reaper!Yeosang × fem!Reader wc: 2.3k summary: When an aneurysm in her brain ruptures, killing Y/N, she is faced with a reaper who has come to collect her soul but she might have just discovered a way to cheat death. genres/themes/au: mild angst, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, major character death mentions of: death, afterlife, slight religious panic; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i don’t have much to say about this lol Yeosang is hot, him as a reaper is a concept. Id’ fuck him if it meant I could escape my fate lmao. Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider reblogging or supporting my writing through my ko-fi, linked on my pinned post! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), corruption kink (f receiving), cock worship (m receiving), dom!Yeosang, sub!Reader, unprotected sex (don’t. do. this), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), use of pet names (babe, sweetheart, etc.), and that should be all but as always, let me know if I missed some! kinks: Corruption kink + cock worship dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Have you never been touched like this before? ❜❜

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No one is ever ready for death. No matter how prepared one thinks they are, it still catches everyone off guard. But while you can prepare for the death of a loved one or a pet, no one really tells you how to prepare with your own demise.

You were now faced with this as you stared at your corpse, collapsed and crumpled on the floor of your living room. You didn’t even know what happened. One minute you were sitting there watching television and then you got up and then it all went black and you came to like this, standing there, staring at your body.

“What the fuck, man?”

You walked over, kneeling beside your body and reached out to touch it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice said from behind you, causing you to jump and turn quickly to see a man standing behind you. He wore a plain black suit, a gray waistcoat over a white button up shirt and a black tie. He had light colored blondish hair with bangs swept back to show his forehead. His eyes were a piercing gray color and he wore a stoic expression.

“Wh-who are you?” you asked, your voice soft as you stared at him. You watched as he tilted his head, giving you a quizzical stare. “I’m Yeosang,” he said simply. “Okay, Yeosang,” you said as you slowly stood up straight. “What are you doing in my apartment?” Yeosang narrowed his steely eyes before responding. “You’re dead,” he stated.

Rolling your eyes you scoffed. “Well, no shit, Sherlock,” you snapped. “What does my being dead have to do with you being here?” Yeosang stuck his hands in his pockets as he stared back at you. “Because it’s my job,” he answered. ‘Job?’ you wondered to yourself. ‘What job?’

“What do you mean by job?” you asked, voicing the question that plagued your thoughts. Yeosang stared at you silently for a moment before he finally spoke. “My job is to escort the dead to the afterlife,” he explained. “You’ve passed and now it’s time to ferry your soul to the afterlife.”

“I’m a reaper.”

Your eyes widened as he spoke. He took a few steps forward, putting him only a couple paces away, he removed his hands from his pockets, holding one of them out, palm facing up. You watched as a dark ball of mist appeared, starting to swirl slowly. It gained momentum, swirling faster and faster, the center becoming more and more dense. A small bolt of electricity crackled and just like that a scythe appeared. He caught it with one hand, grabbing the lower part of the handle with the other and held it firmly.

“Whoa,” you said, eyeing the sharp, pointed end of the curved blade. “That’s a pretty big sickle you got there. What’re you gonna do with it?” you said softly as he approached you. “It’s a scythe,” he corrected you. “And I’m going to kill you.”

You stared at him, holding his gaze for a moment. “Buddy,” you started, glancing down at the scythe. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m already dead.” Yeosang glanced down at the body on the floor and back to your soul. “I know that,” he said, sounding equal parts confused. “Then what do you mean kill me?” Yeosang stood back up, moving the scythe to rest the bottom of the staff on the floor.

“When you die,” he said, gesturing at your body lying on the floor. “You get assigned a reaper,” he continued. “And that reaper comes to take your soul to pass on. Most of the time, souls have unfinished business, this is how you get ghosts.”

You stared blankly at him as explained. “You have no unfinished business,” he added. “You are completely ready to pass on.” Your brows furrowed. “No the fuck I’m not,” you retorted. “I didn’t even want to die. I simply got up from the couch. How the hell did that kill me?” you asked incredulously as you gestured at your body.

Yeosang walked over, passing you to slowly kneel down, inspecting your corpse. “Aneurysm,” he said softly. He looked up at you. “A blood vessel in your brain ruptured. It’s usually preventable,” he continued as he got up. “But if it ruptures, only immediate medical treatment can save you,” he added, walking towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been dead for too long.”

You looked down at his hand on your shoulder, surprised you could even feel anything. “You’re touching me,” you whispered. He glanced at his hand and then pulled it away. “My apologies,” he said. “It was meant to be reassuring.” He started to walk back to the spot he’d been standing before but you grabbed his hand, catching him off guard. “How am I touching you?” you asked, looking up from his hand to his eyes.

“Because we’re the same,” he answered, sounding surprised. “We’re both specters.” You glanced back at your body. “Is there no chance of pleading for my life with you?” you asked, turning back to look at him. “Well,” he started, pulling his hand from your grasp and running his fingers through his hair.

“Yes,” he replied. “Technically you could be returned to life,” he added. “Even with the ruptured aneurysm?” you asked. Yeosang shrugged. “By restoring life to you, it would reverse the rupture but the aneurysm would still be there.” You glanced at your body then around your apartment. “So if I return to life, will I forget all this?” you asked, turning to look at him once more.

He shrugged. “Maybe?” he said, sounding uncertain. “I’ve never restored someone to life before,” he replied. “I just know it’s possible. But I can’t just go around reversing death and granting people more time. You have to make a bargain,” he added. “A bargain?” you asked, perking up.

“Yes,” he answered. “What kind of bargain?” Yeosang hesitated. “I uh… don’t know. I’ve never done it before. Do you have any reason why you absolutely cannot pass on?” He stared at you blankly as he waited for your answer. Did you have anything holding you back? You had no children, no pets, no one relied on you to care for them. All you knew was that you weren’t ready. Wasn’t that reason enough?

You looked back at him. “I…” you trailed off, voice breaking before clearing your throat and trying again. “I’ve barely even lived,” you started softly. “I’ve never even left the country. I’m… not ready to go.” Yeosang’s stoic expression softened at the sound of your wavering voice. He wasn’t supposed to do this. He wasn’t supposed to give second chances but there was something in your voice and he couldn’t help but feel a little bad for you.

“Alright,” he said, snapping his fingers. You jumped slightly in shock when the scythe in his hands disappeared in a black mist that quickly dissipated. “If you can convince me, I will give you a second chance at life.” The moment the words left his lips, a look of pure joy came over your face. “Oh, really?” you exclaimed. Yeosang nodded before holding up a hand. “But you have to convince me.”

“Not a problem,” you said, moving to stand in front of him.

Yeosang watched as you lowered yourself to your knees. He’d seen this act before. He was no stranger to people begging on their knees but what he hadn’t expected was for your hand to move up his thigh, palm resting over his crotch. His breath caught in his throat. “Wh-what are you doing?” he choked out as you started to palm over his cock.

“You said to convince you,” you answered with a shrug as you continued. Yeosang’s cheeks burned as he could feel himself starting to grow hard under your touch. “I didn’t mean…” he trailed off as your hand gently cupped his growing erection, squeezing slightly. His eyes fluttered shut, a soft gasp leaving his lips. “Have you never been touched like this before?” you asked suddenly.

He looked down to meet your gaze. There was a hint of amusement in the semi smirk you had on your face. Yeosang shook his head. “N-no,” he stammered. You looked up at him, your smile widening as you continued to stroke him over his pants. “Let me change that then,” you said softly, moving your hands up, fingers working to undo the clasp and zipper of his pants.

Yeosang let out a groan as your hand slipped into his pants, grasping his semi hard cock, pulling it free and starting to stroke him slowly. “I.. f-fuck,” he moaned, head falling back as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, tongue swirling around before pulling back with a slight popping sound. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a really pretty cock?” you asked, hand gliding over the shaft faster.

“N-no,” Yeosang gasped, unable to form a proper sentence. “Well, you do,” you whispered, giving the tip a slow lick. “Probably the best looking cock I’ve ever seen.” Yeosang’s cheeks burned, a tinge of pink to them as you took his cock back into your mouth. He groaned as the tip of his cock reached the back of your mouth, nearly crossing into your throat.

“Holy hell,” he gasped as you pulled back, his hips bucking forward to chase the feeling of your warm mouth. You chuckled as you pulled back, hand moving up to the head of his cock. “I still can’t believe you’ve never done this before,” you said softly, watching as he looked down at you through heavy lidded eyes. “I don’t have the —” he let out a hiss as you gave the tip of his cock a lick, grinning at his reaction.

“I don’t often get the chance to engage in — oh god!” he groaned loudly, head falling back as your mouth enveloped his cock once more. His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers slipping between locks of your hair. “D-don’t stop,” he gasped as your head bobbed faster, the wet sound of his cockhead hitting the back of your throat.

You knew he was close when you felt his cock twitch in your mouth and you quickly stopped, pulling his cock from your mouth. “As much as I’d like for you to cum in my mouth,” you started, stroking him slowly. “I think it’s only fair that you get a taste of what you’re missing,” you said softly. “What are you – yah!” Yeosang started before being tugged down to his knees. You pushed him back onto the wooden floor, quickly ridding yourself of your pants before climbing over his lap.

“On your back, sweetheart,” you said softly, pushing against his chest. He leaned back as you moved, settling over his cock. You reached down, grabbing him and lining the tip with your slit before slowly sinking down on him, letting out a moan as his cock stretched you, your cunt greedily sucking him in. Yeosang let out a guttural moan, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you settled, his cock fully inside you. “I knew it,” you said with a soft chuckle.

“Knew what?” the reaper asked, raising his head. “That your cock would feel even better inside me than it did in my hand,” you replied, leaning over to place your hands on the floor on either side of his head as you lifted your hips. His hands gripped your waist tightly as you lowered yourself back down, his cock sliding back into you, making both of you moan loudly.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” you said with a crooked grin. Yeosang looked up at you through half opened eyes, his hair starting to stick to his forehead. “I don’t care if you finish what you started,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I just need you to move,” he added, trying to move your hips along, a hint of impatience in his voice.

“Do that and you can consider our deal fulfilled.”

You chuckled lightly as you leaned over to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Oh come on,” you said with a smirk. “We’re only just getting started, babe.” You lifted your hips again, sinking back down and setting a steady pace, keeping your eyes on his face as his brows knitted together, his face contorting in pleasure as your walls clenched around his cock, hugging it tightly.

Each drag of his cock had you groaning as you felt the tension begin to build in your lower belly. “F-fuck,” you cursed, your thighs starting to burn. “I need a second,” you said breathlessly. Yeosang let out an impatient noise, almost a whine as he tried to buck up into you.

“My thighs burn. Just let me have a second,” you chuckled but let out a yelp as he sat up, knocking you onto your back as he grabbed your hips and started thrusting into you harshly. Each snap of your hips had you crying out as he slammed into you repeatedly. “Fuck, shit, calm down!” you gasped as you felt your orgasm approaching rapidly. “M’gonna —”

You didn’t have time to warn him as you came, your cunt convulsing around his cock and spurring his own climax. You could feel his hot cum gush out of him, coating your walls as he pumped you full. After one final thrust, he let out a moan he’d been holding back, collapsing on top of you as you both tried to regain control of your breathing.

“So… our deal is fulfilled?” you finally panted as you stared up at the ceiling of your apartment. “Yes,” Yeosang said as he lifted his head. “On one condition,” he added, his gaze meeting yours. “You let me come visit you from time to time cause that was amazing.” A smile crossed your face as you reached up, running your fingers through his hair. “Can I fuck you when I’m back in my body?” you asked curiously. He shrugged, staring down at your lips. “No idea,” he answered.

“Only one way to find out.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

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jiminiecrickets · 6 months ago

Text

HEAVEN'S SHEATH. KTH / M!READER

summary. a wealthy lord's pacifist son finds friendship and affection in a poor soldier, unremarkable except for the fact that he is the lone survivor of a massacre. fate has different plans for them.

wc. 10k

tags. smut | top!reader, bottom!tae, virgin!reader with a big dick (lol), reader is described as tall/strong, descriptions of blood/injuries/death, sex while injured (reader), riding, multiple orgasms, 2/3rds is only worldbuilding oops im just like that!!

a cloud of dust billows beneath the heavy black hooves of a friesian stallion, sturdy and strong-chested. the well-travelled dirt path swings over rolling green knolls, past flocks of white sheep herded into valleys and heavy brown cows grazing along the hillside. the untouched countryside is marked by clusters of tall green trees along the road and they shade the large river snaking through the vale.

amongst the verdant growth, throned between the river and the hills, lies a large manor built strong with stone and brick. other buildings lay scattered around its feet, and life is most evident here – servants hurry about, ushering goats into their wooden pens and their young ones out of the way of the black horse's brisk high trot. the little children stare with big eyes up at the regal stallion's wavy mane, watching how it falls softly over its long neck with each step. it is a horse that carries great presence and elegance, and its rider is no different.

at the manor's grand front entrance, an older man stands in wait, both hands resting on a cane tipped at both ends with gold. his hair is almost fully grey. his steely eyes track the horse and the dust and pollen dirtying its fine feathering on the lower legs.

"you've been sorely missed, son," he says in an unreadable tone, light enough for politeness but darkened by his heavy gaze. "does wartime make for a better view?"

the rider dismounts, hushing the horse as it snorts and tosses its head, hooves stamping. it yearns for the freedom of the run. he pets its soft mane. his voice is deep and monotone with disinterest. "certainly. it's quieter."

the man's eyes narrow. "you left all the kitchen girls alone, who i know you've a fondness for. you should be at home to protect them, taehyung, not gallivanting off to paint your pictures."

silently, taehyung passes off the reins to the stablehand, and turns to stare up at his father from the bottom of the steps. he tugs off his kid-leather riding gloves and places them in the pocket of his navy blue coat. "what do i know of war and fighting? you were the general, not i. i'd say you are much better suited to protecting these frail women from suffering under the hands of conquerors."

"you are the son of a general," he replies sharply. "the youth must carry on what their fathers forged."

"hate and subjugation, of course," taehyung sighs, shifting his bag of paints in one arm and his canvas in another. "humanity's pinnacle."

"stay your wit, boy. you'll find no friends with it."

he slips past him through the open doors of the manor, his paints clinking in its leather saddlebag. "yes, my lord."

upstairs in a large, sunlit room, he sets it all down with a soft huff. he glances around at the canvases lining the walls, leaning against cupboards and drawers full of paint thinners and varnishes. portraits of one woman dominate most of them – slender, pale, with dark hair, full lips, and a soft curving nose. in some, she sits primly on a chair amongst vases of flowers and goblets of wine, and in others, on chaises in simple dresses with a needle and thread in her hands, glowing with the early summer light blooming behind her.

these are the ones hung up or placed atop chests of drawers. not one touches the ground – that place, on the edge between floor and wall, is reserved for simpler landscapes and still lifes.

"i remember i told you to take down those portraits. do you find joy in antagonising me?"

taehyung turns. his father stands on the threshold, cane by his side. after he returned from the last war with a limp and new scars, he has not worn any other colour but black.

he turns back to his saddlebags, indifferent as he slowly pulls his paints and brushes one at a time from the bag. "no. i find no joy in speaking to you at all."

his father's expression tightens. "i did not make her ill. it was chance and nature. your hatred of me will not bring her back, no matter how intense. it is time to move on, son. lingering on it breeds only worse things."

"'worse things'?" taehyung snaps, gripping a put of paint so tightly his knuckles turn white. "i am not one of your soldiers, so don't speak to me like one. i don't need your pragmatism, your war-bred heartlessness. all she wanted was you. all she asked for was you, and you never came."

he has had this argument many times over since that winter. it festers hot fury in his chest just thinking of it, and it has not burned dimmer with time.

he turns and approaches his father, eye-to-eye. he is not a boy anymore. he surveys him for a moment. "war may have reforged you, made you richer and cleverer, but it burned away all that she loved. you never once held her again, felt her breath on your cheek." taehyung brushes his knuckles over his jaw. he shakes his head and begins to walk down the hall. "don't touch those portraits."

back for only a few minutes and taehyung already cannot stand the solemn weight of the air within these walls. he pushes open the front doors with more force than necessary and wanders through the large, walled estate, stone brick encompassing the major centres of activity.

mindlessly, he travels past the cowherds and shepherds leading in the meat for supper, and the stablemaster tending to his friesian, and the beekeepers. he passes the wall and almost reaches the wheat farm.

hushed whispers float up from the riverbank. he stops in his tracks.

by the water, the girls and women who work with the granary from the farm are crowded around something on the bank. the linens of their dresses are dark with water up to their knees, where they hold it back.

he notices the expressions on the girls' faces – bright with nervousness and fear, but tinged with… curiosity? they whisper amongst themselves behind their hands.

he approaches, ducking under a branch of the oak they shelter beneath. "what is so interesting?"

they startle, several sets of eyes turning towards him. one of the older girls, about his age, drops into a fumbled curtsy. "oh, young master—! we weren't doing nothin' bad, sir, but we was hiding from the sun when we found something the lord sir might need know. we found 'im caught up on the root branches here."

him?

taehyung steps past her. his eyes widen.

a young soldier, skin tinged grey, lies on his back on the riverbank, the water lapping at his calves. his boots have come off somewhere in the water. he wears an unfamiliar uniform: a mixture of thick fabrics to stave off the cold adorned with a strangely-patterned leather jerkin.

it is a poor man's armour, he realises, made of what he can scrounge up and what fits from the garrison's armoury. despite his lack of wealth, taehyung can tell he is a big man – tall, strong in ways only a life of hard work can create. he is fair of face, too, handsomer than many young nobles taehyung has met. perhaps a blacksmith's apprentice, or a baker's boy?

"which… which army is he from, master taehyung? can you tell?"

the question awakens him from his daze. he blinks. "ah – bring him higher on the bank, get his legs out of the water. let me closer."

he crouches by the body, pulling at the heavy cloth draped over the torso. at the neck, where the cloth is bunched and rolled to pack in heat, he finds a small red patch.

taehyung sighs and presses the soaked cloth back into place. "this man is very, very far from home."

the girls glance at each other uncertainly. "what does that mean, master?"

"many years ago, his homeland was seized, and now his people are under southern rule. he was an infantryman. simple cannon fodder." with a soft exhale, he leans over the torso and pulls him onto his side to reach the lashes holding together his water-heavy coat. "perhaps i can bury him someplace high, so that his soul may be reminded of home."

the body jerks and chokes out a lungful of water with a ragged groan.

the girls yelp, stumbling back. taehyung would have had he not already been on his knees. his eyes widen as the soldier's face pinches in pain, eyes still shut. taehyung reaches for the oldest girl, gesturing frantically towards the manor on the horizon. "find my father and tell him what you've found! you've my permission to leave the farm and all of that – he's alive!"

—

it is dark. everything hurts. this is hell – this is punishment, eternal and unforgiving. this is deserved for desertion.

then – light. light rings against bone and flesh.

velvet. mahogany. silk and down.

there is a girl beside you, leaning over you. her linen dress is plain but clean with a white apron over it.

your side explodes with pain. you launch upright with a violent shout, gasping and clutching the hot ache under your ribs. cries of shock throb in your skull.

you blink, hard, eyes adjusting dizzily to the brightness of the room. your torso is wrapped in cloth, which you can feel flat and taut against your skin. your hand comes away clean, and for several unthinking moments, you wonder why. your thoughts are slow and heavy.

"you ought to relax, master," echoes a soft voice beside you. her vowels are round and elongated, the accent so different from your own that you barely recognise it, much less understand it. you stare up unseeingly at her youthful face, framed by dark curls held back by a bonnet. she steps forward, a damp sponge in her hand. that is why your limbs feel cold. "your injuries are quite severe."

"where am i?" you mumble, your tongue thick in your mouth. words are unfamiliar. "who're you?"

she glances up at the other maids, huddling by the door. she sets down the sponge and extends a hand, though you flinch from it. she does not try again. "you are in the northern highlands. hadria. my name is aemma."

"aemma," you murmur. the sounds are soft and round, like a river pebble. like a river, you realise, you are damp and naked, save for a single sheet of folded cloth across your lap. you feel your face grow hot and you clutch it close, folding your legs towards your body for security. "m-may i – where are my clothes?"

aemma gestures for one of the other girls, who quickly scoops up a folded pile of clothes from atop the chest at the base of the lavish bed. the rest of the bedroom is similarly luxurious, with a dark palette that soaks up sunlight to warm its wood. the walls are pale, though framed by polished wooden frames embracing the room.

"here," she replies. "the lord father has gifted you some riding clothes to wear in their stead. they were to be given to the young master when he turned of age, but…" she pauses. she shakes her head and curtsies. "you're to meet the lord father and his son shortly. we were to inform them when you were to wake eventually."

"eventually…" you trail off. "how long have i been here?"

"two days, master."

your head begins to pound. you cradle it, wincing, and reach for the offered clothes. they are clean and soft under your callused fingertips. "ah… i'm no lord, miss."

aemma smiles briefly, folding her hands over her stomach. "the lord father requires it, master."

you have no heart to push. in fact, you would much rather lay down for another two days, though knowing you are under the roof of a lord churns up too much fear to do so. if northern men were anything like southern ones, you would do anything to keep your name clean.

"i'd like to dress," you say softly, glancing briefly at the maids watching you from the corner of the room. "alone, if the lasses would allow it."

with another curtsy, aemma ushers the other girls out of the room and closes the door after them. you do not miss how they sent you curious glances as they left. she now stands where they once were, watching you with badly-disguised intrigue.

you clear your throat and feel your cheeks and neck blaze, folding the cloth around your hips tighter. "i'm sorry. i meant entirely."

perhaps it is your imagination, but you think you spot a tinge of pink wash over her features. she finds sudden interest in the knots and grain of the floor. "the lord father instructed that you were not to be left alone in case you required immediate medical attention. you are evidently still in pain, so i must protest."

"ah." you swallow, and your mouth is dry. "p-perhaps… you could turn around, then?"

she glances up, as if to say something, but eventually nods, bobbing in a small curtsy before turning to face the wall.

as quickly as your aching body will allow, you shuffle off of the bed and dress yourself in finer clothes than you have ever worn before. the cloth is soft and sits finely against your skin like a baby's breath. you are so used to abrasive linens that you almost feel more naked than before.

"you found my boots."

aemma turns around – she almost regrets it, spying the last sliver of skin before white cloth falls over it like the pull of curtains. it is more titillating than seeing the entirety of you bare. "o-oh – yes, one of the servant boys found them downstream."

"ah, thank you. and my uniform, miss," you glance up at her, leaning heavily against the bed poster to slip on your boots, "do you know what happened to it?"

"they're with the hold's tailor. i heard it took quite the beating."

"that could be said," you mumble, straightening up at last. your side twinges with pain, but you attempt a smile. "well, s'pose it's time to meet your lord. i've got to thank my saviours."

it is just turning to twilight, and the hazy golden sun on the horizon feels like little more than a memory. candles light the path past gold-spun tapestries and gleaming windows. aemma leads you to a grand dining room, reminiscent of castles and times long gone. she halts by the entrance, curtsies to you, and hurries away without another word, which you find strange as she had been a pleasant conversationalist when helping you through the halls and down the stairs.

"the soldier awakens at last. how do you feel?"

you glance away from aemma's retreating figure. at the head of the long dining table is an older man with sharp eyes and a natural severity about him. seated beside him is a younger man, around your age, staring into his plate with his hands folded in his lap. you step forward cautiously, and a male servant pulls out a chair on the older man's other side. the lord gestures at it, watching you carefully.

"well, milord; thank you," you answer, taking a seat and quietly thanking the servant who readied it in the first place. he bows but does not otherwise acknowledge you, his gaze on the ground as he slinks back into the shadows of the dining room.

"you were asleep for quite some time. my son doubted you would live." he gestures to the young man across from you, whose romantic dark curls are loose over his forehead. "i am glad you are feeling strong enough to join us for supper. i trust that the girls took care of you?"

"yes, milord," you reply, glancing over the table almost longingly. you swallow the saliva building in your mouth. silver platters are laden heavy with dark ox roasts, honeyed lamb shanks, roasted salmon fillets, sausages and baked potatoes, and braised vegetable stews steaming hot. ruby wine is poured into silver goblets. you have never seen so much food at once in your life.

"the war has yet to touch us. we have plenty to share," the lord informs, his voice almost kind. "how long has it been since you have last eaten, soldier?"

your throat bobs before speaking. "ah… four days, maybe, including my time spent here."

the man's brow arches. "your general did not feed you before battle?"

"no, milord. they ambushed us before our rations were due." you glance at the young man. he has yet to look up, or indeed even move. "we… had issues with our supplies. weevils in the grain, rats in the captains' meat. we turned from two meals a day, to one a day, then one every two." you pause. "i don't think one more meal would have saved us."

the room falls silent, with only the crackling of the fireplace breaking the stillness. green wood pops in the flames.

"well, don't wait for me to begin," says the lord suddenly, shifting comfortably in his seat and reaching for a leg of ox, stabbing it with a knife and lifting it onto his plate. he piles his plate high with potatoes and mash. the action seems to spur on his son, who jolts into motion like a creaking old waterwheel, movements slow and measured. "tell us your name, soldier. i'd like to know the name and story of our guest. now, news comes to us slowly in this isolated place. how fares the war effort?"

glancing down, you realise exactly how many pieces of cutlery there are. knives and forks, spoons and little spoons, all slightly different in shape or size. you pause, hand hovering over the knives, nerves tightening in your chest.

a soft cough. you glance up.

across from you, the son rests his delicate fingers on the outermost knife and fork, using them to carry a richly-glazed steak onto his plate. he chooses a large spoon, fingers lingering on it where it sits on the table, and places it into his bowl of stew.

his gaze lifts to meet yours and just as quickly, a butterfly's flap of wings, he glances away. his cheeks are dusted pink, the rosy colour like gold on his sun-warmed skin.

you copy him. you take a slab of steak from the dish right in front of you. you are starving, but everything about this manor makes you feel small, and you fear taking more than you are offered. you give them your name, for it is the only thing you truly own in these foreign lands.

"the war?" you continue, trying to shake the tremor from your voice. "i wouldn't know, milord. the captains don't tell us much. it's all the same – i've fought in three different battles. this was the third. they give their speeches about king and country, and then we fight. it is noble," you say hastily, "but i am not a warrior. not many of us were. the enemy outnumbered us, outskilled us, and when the poppy fields lay silent, they piled the bodies of all our fallen and made pyres out of us."

"such would explain the scorch marks on your clothes." the lord nods. he leans in, and you fight the urge to lean away. "i shall ask the question we all ask ourselves, if you would not mind. how did you survive such a massacre?"

you glance at the son. he eats quietly, forking small chunks of meat into his mouth. you glance away. "i remember a spear. it was tipped… with a blue and white flag. it waved in the black sky as i looked up at it." you frown. "i'd never seen one like it before."

"the temerian lilies," he replies, almost approvingly. "you must have been some opponent – if the flagbearer loses his flag, it is a great shame to the army. it must be held aloft at all times. he would rather die than lose it to the enemy."

you lift a shoulder. the other aches too much to try. "they pulled it out of me after, then dragged me to a pile of corpses. i… don't remember much, but i remember them squabbling over another soldier's brooch for a while. i only wanted to escape the stench of death." you survey the feast laid out before you. "i s'pose i have."

"then we shall celebrate that," hums the lord, lifting his goblet of wine. "my son was the one who found you floating down the river. he said you were cold as ice and only recognised you from the flag you had sewn into your coat. it is brave to carry your homeland's colours when fighting for their conquerors."

"it was a small creature comfort," you respond as nonchalantly as you can. "they could punish me all they liked, but could never kill me. they needed every man in their ranks."

the lord raises his brows, and something like admiration crosses his features. he glances at his son and that admiration turns into a tiny downturn of the lips. he turns back to you. "not a warrior, you say, yet you stand with the united courage of a battalion. who was your father?"

you notice how his son stills, holding the steak on his tongue behind his lips for a long moment. he closes his eyes and with a deep inhale, resumes eating, as if unaffected.

"just a farmer," you say, diverting your gaze. "dead, long past. my ma raised the rest of us – six boys. i was their second. when the army came knocking, askin' for sons, i went, gave them my name. my older brother knew how to count, how to run the mill. i couldn't let them take him, especially not from the little ones – after da died and ma got sick, he was all they had." you tap the edge of the silver plate with your finger thoughtfully. "i imagined i'd either die or be done after one battle, so i'd be brought home quick regardless. now… it's been four years."

then, the servants bring out a round white cake, slices set down around the table – what a perfect intermission. you have made it rather impossible to return to frivolity with your story, and you gaze down at the cake in front of you. you assume this is their dessert, so quaint and pretty on its little silver plate, but you have little idea of how to go about eating one. something so small must require a similarly-sized utensil. is it the tiny spoon? the tiny knife?

you lift your eyes to the young man across from you. he is already watching, eyes large and dark. he picks up a small three-tined fork from the inner edge, tilting it towards you to show you its appearance, the little notch on the left prong. this time, he doesn't look away, and you have enough time to offer a grateful smile, however brief. he blinks owlishly, almost in surprise, before lowering his gaze again.

it is unfortunate. you would not mind looking at him more. he is undoubtedly beautiful, almost pretty, the sort of face people would immortalise in myths and paintings on temple walls – a kind of elven face, like those that turn goddesses to jealousy and gods to obsession.

you spend the rest of the meal stealing glances at each other when you think the other is not watching. he is far more successful than you.

—

from behind a balcony's closed doors, taehyung gazes up at the crescent moon hanging high in the sky, surrounded by pale stars glittering in the blanket of darkness. he cannot stop thinking about the shy farmer's boy, his accent unfamiliarly pleasant – the vowels are soft and blurred, with each consonant crisp and clear. it makes for a bouncing sort of melody to his voice, one that draws taehyung deeper into his song.

he sighs softly and turns away from the night's landscape, uncrossing his arms and meandering through the empty halls. most of the servants are already tucked away, and his father drowns himself alone in old letters and wine.

in loose trousers and a looser white shirt, the vee of the collared neck laced with string, he finds himself in his library, rich and warm from a hearth already lit. curious. he shuts the open double doors behind him quietly to keep the heat from dissipating into the night.

his silent feet carry him through the aisles, where the shelves brush the ceiling with books and ladders. a walkway surrounds the room, essentially giving it a second level.

silhouetted black against the white glow of the moon beyond the arched window, a familiarly unfamiliar figure stands in silence, gaze turned up towards the heavens beyond the lines of books and old tomes.

standing in this still and quiet room, statue-esque in the way of classics, taehyung cannot help the journey of his gaze wandering up and down the planes of your body, painting to himself the sturdiness of your shoulders, the perfect balance between your booted feet. there is a severity about you he recognises in his own father – he sees it in your arms, tucked behind your back, and the practised way of standing that arches the spine just so to emphasise the broadness of the chest. yet, he knows gentleness when he sees it, and he finds it in the almost childlike awe in your expression, aimed up at his personal collection.

he steps out, the shadows melting from him like the shedding feathers of a raven. "what are you doing in my library?"

you startle, and taehyung almost regrets interrupting you. coward that he is, he would rather watch from afar than bring you out of that handsome serenity.

"f-forgive me, sir," you stammer, twisting your hands together as you incline in an awkward half-bow, half-stumble, evidently having forgotten the extent of your injuries as your expression tightens and your hand brushes over your side. "i didn't know it was yours. the – the doors were open, and i—"

"invited yourself in," he finishes.

"i – yes, sir…"

before you, he stands perfectly still. you could fool yourself into thinking his heart does not beat, for he is pale in the moonlight and beautifully dark-haired, with eyes like midnight lakes and lips like a rose.

you tear your gaze from his, breaking your trance. you begin to move past him. "forgive me, milord. i shan't interrupt you."

his hand darts out, wrapping itself around your wrist. serpentine, it slides up your arm and grips your bicep, forming creases in the cloth.

"you shouldn't move so quickly. you're injured." he turns his gaze on you. "you'd leave so soon?"

"ah…" you flounder, helpless. "if the lord wish it so."

his searching gaze strips your body bare. you feel it prod your soul when his eyes meet yours. his eyes scan your face, and he reaches up with his other hand, brushing it lightly against the slope of your jaw. his skin is warm and tender-soft. your breath hitches.

"the maids missed a spot when shaving," he mutters, pressing his fingers against the patch of half-shorn stubble left on the soft underside of your chin. "a man would do it better."

all at once, he drops his hand and looks away. "i am no lord," he replies, his low, rich voice like waves lapping at the sides of a ship, almost careless. "just his son."

you hesitate, your heartbeat still in your ears. "th-then what should i call you, sir?"

he glances down where bandages hide the hole in your body. "just 'taehyung' will do," he says softly, eyes lifting again. he unravels his arm from yours, turning fully towards you. "you may stay – as long as you are quiet."

he moves away, so graceful he may as well have floated. his fingers glide over the covers like bumps of the spine, and they pluck a small yellow book from the shelf. he opens it, already turning to the first page even before he finds a chair to sit in. he curls up in front of the grand fireplace, the furry hide of a brown bear thrown across the floor in front of it.

for a while, you simply watch him and listen to the crackling of the fire. his slim fingers glide across the pages to turn them, the edge of the page caught gently on the pad of his thumb.

bathed in the yellow and orange hues of the fire, the lord's son is every bit as regal as northerners are said to be – hair like calligraphy ink, cheekbones fine, slim bodies tall and lithe. you could lose yourself in his cold, gentle darkness.

that burbling feeling of being out of place rises to the surface, worse than when you sat before the lord at his table. you and your callused palms, your worn and labour-worked body. you should not be here.

"you know you can choose a book, yes? i don't mind." he glances up. "forgive the mess. i can help. what do you like to read?"

"i'm sorry, sir," you murmur, averting your gaze. "i can't read."

it seems he'd forgotten your roots. he blinks. "oh. my apologies. but if not to read, what interested you about my library?"

"ah," you chuckle, scratching your head. "i've just never seen so many books in one place. travelling merchants would display some, but never like this."

"i see." he surveys you intensely, then glances away and clears his throat. he shifts in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs. at last, he says stiffly, "if you'd like… i can… read to you."

the silence is thick with more than just the fire's heat. it is hard to know taehyung's hot face is not because of the fire, and he is grateful.

"if milord wishes to," you reply quietly, watching him for any twitch of his expression that may give him away.

"of course. i wouldn't offer it if i didn't." he gestures to the chaise beside him. "sit."

you step into the semicircle of light afforded by the fireplace, licked by tendrils of warmth, and ease yourself into the chair with a soft grunt, holding your side. "milord is as kind as he is beautiful."

his eyes flicker down to your lap. "i wish you wouldn't call me that," he says suddenly, a little sharper. "can i not be called my own name in my home?"

your mouth opens and closes. after a moment, you reply softly, "i meant no offence. it just feels… wrong."

slowly, he exhales, closing his eyes and his book. he places a hand over its cover. "all of my life has felt wrong. everything is wrong no matter what i do – who i wish to be, the company i keep, the fears i carry… the love i desire." he pauses, opening his eyes to your earnest expression. he diverts his gaze to the yellow-gold cover of the book. "what more can one last wrong hurt?"

"i'm sorry," you whisper. "perhaps i can start over." you straighten slightly, offering a crooked half-smile. "what do you want to read to me, taehyung?"

he does not disagree that his name sounds strange coming from another's mouth, but he cannot remember the last time it was used by anyone else. he hums and rises to his feet, coming to stand over you in front of the fire; his shadow cast over your body deepens the maturity of your features.

"when you said i was beautiful," he asks, "did you mean it?"

staring up at him, you can do nothing but tilt your head in bewilderment. "yes. you are fair and handsome."

taehyung chooses his next words carefully. "if… i were a girl," he decides, clasping his book over his stomach with straight arms, "would it be a different sort of beauty?"

you frown, shaping an approximation of a girl with taehyung's features in your mind. "maybe. but she would still be beautiful if she was you." you shake your head, dispelling morphing images of regal dark-haired daughters. you hide your warm cheeks behind an apologetic smile. "i'm sorry. i don't know much. i don't usually deal with such thoughts."

but it was enough for taehyung. slowly, as if not to frighten you, he lowers himself, grasping the chaise's rests and draping himself gently over your lap. he watches your face all the while, his heart beating faster at the shock and nervousness that cross your face in a single second.

"is this… is this alright?" he whispers, placing his hand against your chest.

your adam's apple bobs, your hands hovering an inch off of his body as if he is made of glass. gently, you place one on taehyung's knee and the other behind his back, and glance up at him.

"perhaps you can sit closer," you murmur, eyes wide and searching, "so you may not fall."

taehyung smiles, then – the first smile of his you have ever seen. it is sweet, and crinkles the corners of his eyes. it makes your heart swell.

he hides his smile in his chest, his knuckles brushing the corner of his lips. he lifts his eyes, and a sliver of hope twinkles in them. "shall i read to you, then? i will give you a synopsis of each story so you may choose your favourite."

"please," you murmur, settling back in the chair and sliding your hand higher up taehyung's thigh so he may be more comfortable. "do whatever you wish."

"'whatever'?" he hums, and with a flippant little kick, throws off his boots to the ground, where they thump carelessly. he meets your eyes and falls into a nervous smile, tucking his bare feet against your leg and resting his temple against your shoulder. his hair is still slightly damp at the ends from his earlier evening bath. "then you wouldn't mind this, would you?"

"of course not," you whisper, biting back a shy, embarrassed smile. you are too old to be acting like this, especially with the only son of a wealthy lord, but the rush of excitement from seeing such a reticent man blossom and show his petals to you is too much to keep you away. "i am only a farmer's boy, taehyung. anything with someone like you is… a dream."

at the mention of his name, his smile widens slightly and a pinkness warms the apples of his cheeks. he busies himself with opening the book and flipping through its contents to find the correct page. he presses his thumb against the spine between the pages.

"here." he taps the words on the page. "this story is one my mother used to read to me. a princess is trapped in a tower, guarded by a dragon in an ever-changing thorn maze, and a brave, handsome knight rescues her. they are married and live happily ever after."

he looks up at you, searching for a reaction, and you can only give a breathy laugh in return, still dizzy with the idea that someone like taehyung could ever be interested in someone like you. "are you sure you should be telling me these stories? i'm not a princess or a brave knight. i'm plain."

"perhaps. but do you know who else was seen as plain?" he taps your chest. "the dragon, disguised as a statue. and you, strong dragon, will protect the princess," he taps his own chest, "from all the boredom and politics of castle life."

"don't you have other, richer boys chasing you?" you ask, because you know your place. "your own knight? i don't see what i offer that they can't."

he licks his lips, setting aside the small book on a round side table and swinging his legs over your lap to straddle you. reading it is the last thing on his mind. "i do, of course. but it is like you said – they are boys. when their wooden sword chips, they get a new one." he trails his fingers lightly down the centre of your chest, wide and strong, and tentatively cups what is between your legs. he leans in, long-lashed brown eyes flickering down to your lips. "i want more than that."

"i—" your breath hitches as he squeezes gently, learning its shape and heft with deft fingers. "a-are we allowed to…? i am a stranger in strange lands with nothing to my name."

he chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours. his soft hair curtains your eyes. "allowed? no. but when a handsome soldier from far away falls into my lap, what else is a man to do?" he draws his thumb over your jawline, stroking your cheek. he lowers his lips to yours, hot breath sweet with honeyed treats. with the faintest thread of a breath, he whispers, "may i?"

with your heartbeat thudding in your ears, your head inclines, and taehyung wraps his arms around your shoulders and pushes his lips to yours.

his moan is sweet and starved as you kiss back to the best of your ability, your hands falling naturally about his waist. his lips are plump and warm, pillowy, and slicken with saliva as he deepens it, cupping the back of your head and pressing himself higher onto your body. he is desperate and dominating, sitting in your lap and rolling his hips into yours. you can feel his excitement through the cotton of his trousers.

when you part regretfully, gulping down air, he cups your face, his eyes dark yet gentle. he licks his shining lips, parted to pant. "you seem apprehensive. have you ever done this with a man?"

you wipe your lips with your thumb, tongue swiping over them in an almost bewildered motion. your eyes are wide. "a-ah… no. not with… anyone…"

"not even a girl?" he cannot help the surprise that coats his tone.

you shake your head, face aflame. "i never… my older brother had my father's charm. he was the one they all wanted, strong but lean. i was too much of a bull. they had fantasies of princes, and he was closer to it than i."

deeply and tenderly, he kisses you again. "it only means i won't have to fight anyone to call you mine." he brushes his thumb over your lips. "that suits me just fine. i was never the fighting sort."

he sits up on your lap, thighs bracketing yours. his bare feet tuck beneath him under his knees. when his palm grazes the front of your trousers, your breath hitches in your chest, and taehyung gives you a soft, if coy, grin. "i'll be gentle," he promises. he tugs slightly on the laces of the waist. "may i?"

mutely, you nod, your words sinking into the whirling depths of his eyes. his deft fingers undo the laces with ease and he pulls the thick cloth down your waist, tracing the vee of your hips with a pleased breath. he reaches in, lifting his gaze to gauge your expression. your chest rises and falls rapidly, and your knuckles are tensed on the chaise's armrest. the other arm is tucked tightly by your side.

"don't be nervous," he whispers, stroking you gently in your trousers. it twitches in his palm. "place your hands on my waist, darling. good. very good."

hesitantly, your hands graze his hips, sliding up to grip his slender waist. you splay a hand beside his waist, measuring it against him with fascination. he is slim and lovely… like the city nobles' soft-palmed daughters. you had noticed his hands during supper but hadn't the room to mull over them then, though now you do. they are square, masculine, but slender and fine-veined. his nails are clean and cut short, with a thin crescent of white at the ends.

he could not have been more perfect if he tried.

he slides his fist up to the tip of your cock, rubbing his thumb against the slit and the smooth skin. you are mostly soft, but still impressive – the number of taehyung's clandestine trysts have lent him a certain experience when it comes to men.

you have reinforced your place as his favourite.

"i see why they call you a bull," he says slyly, squeezing your shaft as his fist sinks down on it. "they just don't know how to tame you."

your face floods with heat as you stutter meaninglessly. your grip tightens on taehyung's hips and a single slant of a thought marvels at how delicate he feels in your palms.

"be still, my darling," he murmurs, "and be at ease. you are no longer at war. you can close your eyes and hold me without fear. nothing will happen unless we want it to."

his voice, like syrup, melts the frantic whirlwind of thoughts in your head. you cannot help but want to believe him. "you make it sound so simple. i want to believe you."

"why can't it be?" he tilts his head, glancing down and stroking you contentedly. he swipes his thumb over the slit, where a bead of precome bubbles. oil – from a small bottle you only now spot in taehyung's palm – smooths each stroke of your shaft. "the world is so complicated. affection can afford to be simple."

he lets go for a moment to step back, sliding his trousers down his hips and calves and tossing them aside on the chaise. he flicks his dark hair and tucks a lock over his ear as he reassumes his place on your lap, pressing his chest against yours and tugging your cock to throb against the curve of his ass. the silk of his white shirt is cool and light against your hot skin.

his lips ghost over the shell of your ear as his hips roll languidly. he whispers, "do you want this?"

do you want more? the question is unasked, but you hear it anyway.

"i do, yes. please," you reply immediately, your voice rough with desire. your hands trail over his hips and tuck beneath the long hem of his shirt to caress his warm, creamy thighs, a feeling that traps your breath in your throat. you force out a sigh, shaky, and rest your forehead against taehyung's shoulder. he hushes you and cups the back of your head, reaching with his other hand behind himself to ease you inside his warmth.

taehyung's head tips back with a slow exhale, shuddering as you pulse with heat inside of him. he watches you closely, committing to memory the way your brows pinch and your mouth falls open as your grasp tightens, trembling, around his waist.

"do you like that?" he whispers, breathy. he bounces shallowly, grinding his hips into yours. "how do you feel?"

"good," you choke out through a groan. your hand slides down to the dip in his back, trying not to seem too eager as it cups his ass. "oh, fuck…"

"don't hold back for me," he murmurs, hips quickening. he moans in surprise as you buck up into him, thighs meeting his ass. the slap of your balls against his ass is obscene, and he scrambles to cling onto your shoulders for balance.

"wait – wait, wait," he gasps, lashes fluttering as your cock kisses that spot inside of him that burns pleasure through his guts.

you stop immediately, sliding your hand up his side. "i'm sorry! are you alright?"

he huffs a laugh, panting softly, and nods. "you're injured, darling. don't waste the good work we put into putting you back together. sit back – i will take care of you, understand?"

"a-ah…" your face burns with heat. "all right. whatever milord desires."

"very good." he presses down on your hips gently, his hands between his thighs. he lifts himself off of your cock until only the tip rests against his hole, then sinks down on it in one smooth motion. a strangled noise escapes your throat as you scramble to hold onto him. his heat grips your shaft like a vice, gummy walls clamping down around you with each drop of his hips.

he moans when your fingers dig into the sensitive skin of his hips, sweat gathering in the small of his back. the fireplace crackles softly, the air warm and sweet with the smell of sex.

he gathers his shirt in his hands about his ribs, revealing his dusky cock, swollen with need. he takes your hand and curls your fingers around his shaft, his eyes fluttering and lips parting as you tighten it. your callused palms drag deliciously against his veins and he grips your wrist with a soft groan, bouncing on your lap in such a way that he thrusts into the warm tunnel of your fist.

carefully, you stroke his cock, cautious about rubbing raw or tearing his skin. wealthy boys are a different breed – so much softer, easier to hurt. the smell of him, sweet and musky, hangs in the air around him, enveloping you when he draws close – crushed petals, herbs, leaves. it seems foreign, or at least the mixture does, for you cannot quite place your finger on it – then again, what do you know of luxuries like this?

"you are doing well," taehyung praises, gasping as you flick the head of his cock with your thumb. "oh, yes… f-fast learner, hm? oh!"

a jerk of your hips has him jolting forward, his cock spurting a sudden white rope onto your stomach. he purrs, bracing against your chest and slamming his hips down on your cock to slicken him with your pleasure. it works, and he seems unduly proud of himself when your cock throbs and leaks, forming a white ring around the hilt that thickens with each bounce of his ass.

"milord – milord," you gasp, a tiny pathetic noise that does not match your appearance, "please – i'm—"

"let go," he demands, a breathy moan escaping his lips. he closes his eyes and lets out a punched groan as your cock carves into his insides, deeper than any other man had ever touched. his reddened cock throbs, slit pouring precome over his belly and thighs. the pleasure curls around his thoughts, his head spinning from it, and he feels your stomach tense under his palms.

you spill into him with a deep, satisfied growl, head tipping back as he arches against you. your hips roll up against his and the coil tightening in his belly snaps at the sight of you so wrecked from so little. he cries out, ropes of white streaking across your shirt, and his hips stutter and roll, milking your pleasure for his own like a succubus. he presses his ass into your lap, white teeth sinking into his plump lower lip, and his eyes roll as the thick warmth fills him up to the brim.

at last, he slumps against your chest, thighs trembling and tensing as he hums softly into your neck. he buries his nose in the soft, warm skin, and cups your cheek to place a soft kiss on the corner of your jaw.

"mm… good," he purrs, smiling with tender satisfaction. "i – i shall bring you to your… mm… room. it is just down the hall from my own... should you wish to see me, you only need to knock." his breath hitches as he raises his hips slowly, hole twitching around your shaft, and when it pops out, a steady stream of come leaks from him, staining his tanned skin. he sighs, closing his eyes to the slowing of your heartbeat. "but i think i will stay here for a time, if you don't mind. just until i – until i regain feeling and control of my legs."

"is that… is that normal?" you ask, a tiny panting tremor in your voice. "to lose feeling like that?"

taehyung laughs into your neck, eyes crinkling. "sometimes, when i feel overwhelmed. it is no fault of yours – you are just… big. don't worry. i liked it."

he shifts in your lap to get comfortable but pauses as something pokes his thigh. a sly smile spreads across his fine features, his fingers lifting to trace your jaw and tip your gaze to his own. he purrs, "is that for me, love? excited again?"

you gulp, unable to tear your stare from his despite the embarrassment clawing at your throat. "i – i…"

"handsome and energetic. i'm a lucky man." he laughs softly, reaching behind himself and groping your hard cock with a low moan. "i myself have been told i'm rather voracious. perhaps you will be the first to keep up with me."

he lowers himself on your cock, head tipping back as he teases himself with the thick head. his dick twitches.

"what say you to a change of scenery?" he asks coyly, perfectly content with your ragged-breath silence. every word you might have said disintegrates on your tongue when he turns around, arching his back and pinning your cock to your stomach. shining precome smears along the cleft of his ass.

his body, carved out of shadows by the fire, rocks and rolls like a ship in the harbour when all its crew are asleep. with an encouraging smile, he takes your hands and places them on his hips, pressing on them to guide you to control his body. he hums softly as you squeeze his hips and spread his asscheeks, your breath shaky as he angles his messy hole against your leaking tip.

he watches your face with gentle eyes as he sinks down on your cock, his warm, wet hole swallowing up your shaft like he was made for it. you jump slightly when his ass firmly meets your lap, taking you hungrily until the hilt, and if he were a lesser man, your expression alone would have been enough to tip him over the edge. he sears every line of your face, every edge and plane, into the backs of his eyelids. it will make for fine company on lonely nights.

you speak for the first time in a while. "p-please…" you whisper hoarsely, blunt nails digging into his smooth, unmarred skin, leaving crescent moons in your wake. "please, move."

"ah, but you are badly hurt… i must take my time with you. mustn't alert the servants, either, for they'd certainly report to my father what they've seen." taehyung giggles to himself, gnawing on his lower lip in an effort to subdue his grin. he grinds down into your lap in circles, relishing in the pleasured, impatient groans that escape your throat. "he'd toss you out in an instant, and we cannot have that! i haven't yet had my fill of you."

"a-are you always so… playful with your men, taehyung?" you ask, voice slightly strained. you watch your cock vanish into him, over and over again. the sound that is made when he bounces on your lap is obscene and filthy. your heart stirs with desire.

"mmh – no. my past conquests have not been as – as alluring as you," he gasps, wrapping his hand around his throbbing cock, thumb rubbing circles over the ridge of his tip. "mostly, they bore me. you, however – you're more than a cock i can use to please myself, if i may speak so crudely."

"i – ah – th-think i should be grateful, then…?" you reply uncertainly.

"yes. unless, of course, you enjoy that sort of game… but tonight is about simplicity," he breathes, his skin tingling where your rough palms glide over his thighs, soft as cream. "we have only so long until the sun rises and the servants wake. i want to spend that time with you – learning your homeland's ballads and epics, your favourite flower, where i can touch to make you melt…"

he looses an airy laugh as your grip tightens on his waist, his shirt folded up between your fingers to reveal the curve of his spine and ass. you drag him down onto your cock roughly and he keens, eyes rolling back briefly. "ooh, y-you like that, don't you? ah—!"

already he is so sensitive. nowhere else has he felt pleasure like this – where his body is treated as more than a means to an end. he had been completely content with that when he entered this library, agreeable to the idea that you might like him only for what he can give you. but he swears – he swears on the old gods and the new – that the way you press your nose into the curve of his neck, the way you stroke him thin and thick tight and loose – caring, properly, for his own high – means your attraction is more than fleeting.

years of ending up alone in empty beds have made him soft. lonely. desperate. perhaps he is reading into things too deeply, as he always does – poor boy, always a poet. the backs of his eyes sting with hot tears as his tightly-controlled leash snaps, making him cry out, writhe, and shudder, knees and elbows buckling under the weight of his orgasm.

you catch him in your arms before he can slip, pulling him backwards towards your chest. it is warm, your throat shining with sweat, and he can feel the burning fever of your body through your clothes. still, you do not let go, push him away – you cradle him close, your heart thudding through your ribcage and into his own.

one of your hands tugs languidly at his cock, milking his pleasure from him. you watch quietly as it spills over your knuckles, your lips pressed against his sweat-slick shoulder, and help him lift his hips off of your cock.

for the first time in what feels like hours, taehyung takes a deep, full breath of air. he cups your face in a hand and smiles, wide and content.

"i didn't believe you could be more beautiful," you murmur, words slightly clipped at the end from a lack of breath. "i've never been happier to be wrong."

he opens his eyes with a flutter of lashes, pleasantly surprised. "haven't i already let you take me?"

"what do you mean?" you ask with a frown, tilting your head. your thoughts are foggy with warm laziness. the fire's heat does not help. "taehyung?"

the sound of his name almost startles him. he sits up, and a pleasurable ache sparks up his spine. he sucks in a deep breath. "you really… truly think that of me?"

you blink slowly, like a cat, and the fire's flames dance in your eyes. "i am a simple soldier. lies are above a man like me."

"you're more than that," he replies immediately, turning around on your lap to face you properly. "if you were just a soldier, you would have died on that battlefield. forgive me, but you had all the time to die on your way down the river. still, you survived." his voice softens, and he fiddles with your collar, straightening it and folding it down. "i am glad you did. i am glad to have met you."

"ah…" gently, you tug his shirt down, allowing him the return of some of his dignity, though he does not seem to care. "that reminds me – i shouldn't waste much time here. i should report to the general."

"for what?" taehyung scoffs, and it sounds… hurt. he glances away. "am i so repugnant you would rather march thirty miles a day in mud-soaked boots than stay here with me?"

"no!" you protest, sitting up as best you can with the growing ache in your side. you had been too caught up in the moment to remember it, and now your body reminds you jealously. "t'ain't that, taehyung. you are intelligent and kind and if we were in my homeland, i wouldn't hesitate to ask your hand. but surely you have a girl you're supposed to marry?"

"no, not at the moment. despite what he says, my father still grieves my mother. it will be a while yet before he'll allow another woman into the house." he traces shapes into your skin. "i will free you from the servitude of the evil king who bound you, and together, princess and dragon will live freely, with the wind in their hair and the sun on their backs."

at first, you smile at the newfound softness of his voice, but freeze. "free… of servitude?"

taehyung watches you, draping his legs over the other side of the armchair, kicking his feet lazily. his eyes are dark and watchful. "as i know it, the king's oath swears that you are only relieved of your duty when you give your blood for his and fall in battle against his enemies. have you not satisfied these requirements?"

"i may be no scholar, but i'm near certain that to 'fall in battle' means to die in it."

"have you not satisfied these requirements?" he repeats, firmer. "our doctors and priests said you were dead when i brought you to them. they said you may have been alive when i found you, but somewhere between the riverbank and their stone table marked the spot where you died. as they proclaimed this, you coughed again, and nobody could deny me this time when i said you were very clearly alive."

"you are telling me that i died… and returned? like a saint?" you ask sceptically.

"i only tell you what our doctors told me."

for a while, you are silent. determination creases taehyung's brow, and you cannot hold in the disbelieving laugh that erupts from you, though it morphs into a groan of pain in the middle. taehyung sits up and presses his palm to your cheek, his eyes so vivid and certain.

"you have already died, and thus retain no obligations to the crown," he whispers. his gaze scours your face. "you are free. free to stay here. live here…"

with me.

your heart drops into your stomach. you grip his waist, shifting in the velvet chaise. "i'm…"

"agree. agree to it. even if i cannot bear your children, we will sleep in the same bed, take walks in the wheat fields, eat and drink every meal together. you won't fear for your life every day. and as soon as the war ends and they open the trade routes to your home, i shall book passage on a ship and take you there. you may stay, if you wish. i won't deny you."

"then why offer at all?" you ask quietly. "if you think i'll leave you the moment i can, why would you even try?"

"i can hope, can i not? by all accounts our kings have no desire to cease any time soon. perhaps you will learn to love me in time." he smiles, faint, and averts his gaze. "otherwise, i will be glad to help another soul. you will survive the war and return to your family, whole and healthy. out here, away from people, i have little chance to do something so good and noble."

"and if i grow restless? if i want to do something with my hands?"

he tilts his head thoughtfully. "how is your aim?"

"fair, i s'pose. haven't missed when it's important."

"the lord's hunter grows old," he proclaims. "he can teach you what he knows, and if you like, you may take up the title once he can no longer ride and shoot. besides that, there is always work to be done in the fields and granary – perhaps you'll find some comfort in the farms?"

you think about it, long and hard. in essence you would be a prisoner at his beck and call, though if taehyung tells the truth and is as earnest as he appears, perhaps you'll find freedom and enough work to fill your days with…

you give your answer, and taehyung's smile is like the sun.

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madraynesims · 4 months ago

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The Sims 2 PSP Cut Content: Part 1

I had been looking for the best way to implement this info on the Sims Wiki (but these are cut Sims, so there's not really a place for them? Or maybe someone else can do it). I've also been working on some videos talking about them. (I love watching these types of videos and prefer that visual format) but at this rate who knows when I'll finish it. So here we go! If you love Strangetown and crave any ounce of lore that you can get like me, here's a few townies. They even have their own secrets! Please read p6tgel's post to get all the info about the cut character TA7, everything I know about him is over there, so I don't have anything to add here. All I'm going to say is... I remember wanting to find out so badly who Mister Smith's friend was after playing The Sims 2 PSP for the first time. I'm so glad they actually did add more to the story. Learning more about the alien society and getting another title (like Pollination Technicians) just makes me want a Sixam neighborhood even more lol go read about it!!

Missing Kine Society Cult Members

Tunak Tun

Tunak is the only cut character that I could find photo evidence of in an old screenshot. He is a cut Kine Leader (like Sara Starr), as seen in his brown robe talking to Bull Dratch. The schedule file for the Kine Dairy indicates that Tunak would have spawned only during the day.

Unfortunately, it's a view of his back, but his character file confirms this appearance. (just want to say... the details on the Kine robes are actually beautiful. The crunched down quality we got in the final release makes them look like rags) Gender: 0 = female, 1 = male. The eye color is only specified if they're not the default brown. (I'll be using the Sims 2 PC to recreate them, as it shares a lot of assets with the PSP version)

Tunak Tun's Details

Bio: "A member of the Kine Society." social = 7, intimidation = 1, personality = 1, His social and intimidation scores are on the lower end for Deadtree locals, so social games aren't as difficult. He has the Air personality type. His topic sets (interests) are cow, cow milk, cow bell, cow beast, full moon, and crystal ball. A visual of these:

Tunak Tun's Secrets

(Personal): "Has been known to sneak in a burger or two on the sly."

(Intimate): "Likes to wear loose robes for that 'fresh and ventilated' feeling."

(Dark): "He actually just made up his other two Secrets. He's a pathological liar."

According to the game code, Tunak Tun would also count towards the goal to "Earn the Trust of a Kine Leader [Relationship 4]", just like Sara Starr and Sinjin Balani.

Zen Mu

Zen Mu is regular Kine Society member that wears a white robe. The schedule file for the Kine Dairy indicates that Zen would have spawned only during the night.

I went through every face template available in the Sims 2 PSP CAS and I can't find Zen Mu's (might be hidden like some hairs/clothes are) and I don't see the stubble hair in the PC version.

Zen Mu's Details

Bio: "A member of the Kine Society." social = 7, intimidation = 1, personality = 2, Their social and intimidation scores are on the lower end for Deadtree locals, so social games aren't as difficult. They have the Water personality type. Their topic sets (interests) are cow, cow milk, cow bell, and cow beast. A visual of these:

Zen Mu's Secrets

(Personal): "Severe lactose intolerance has made her unpopular in the Kine Society."

(Intimate): "She is deathly afraid of cows, but don't let the cows find out … they thrive on fear."

(Dark): "When she meditates, her power animal is a horse … the highest form of Kine blasphemy."

Interestingly, Zen Mu's gender and character model is male, but all 3 of Zen's secrets uses she/her pronouns. Small fun fact - Personal Kine robe for the player: It looks like we would have received our own kine robe at one point, probably after passing inspection, according to the item list file (item 72). Now, we can just go to a wardrobe and buy a robe ourselves.

Extra fun fact that I randomly like to talk about on my twitch streams, but I don't remember if I've said it over here? These two award winning cows were actually given names by the devs in the Kine Dairy level spawning file. Bessie and Gertie! <3

#sims #sims 2 #sims 2 psp #sims spin offs #ts2 #ts2 psp #strangetown #love the tiny little details

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moonystoes · 10 months ago

Text

Safe Dance - Elisa De Almeida x international!reader

summary: this pretty much explains it all lol.

Warning: Sexual assault, old man being a creep, mentions of alcohol, not well written, slowww burn like it's pissing me off too im sorry, elisa being our protective queen.

a/n: i'm bringing this up again, i just started writing, especially fics as long as this (the last one -and the first- had only 500 words). So feedback and help is needed!! also sorry i got a little bored and wrote too many useless things lol.

w/c: 5.218k

You knew you needed to celebrate your high GPA after graduating from your bachelor degree at some point. But you've been putting it off, feeling like it's too much effort and energy for your introverted self. It's no secret French people are distant towards foreigners, it's been something known worldwide (which is ironic since a big part of their population are people of color coming from different countries from Africa and Asia). But you ignored all the toxic things you heard about France when you unexpectedly got a scholarship into the University of Paris.

Now, four years later, you are still alone. You have made friends in some projects, but right when the project is over, your friendship ends as well. Your mom has messaged you a long paragraph on how proud she is of you, but the loneliness is still wearing you down. You knew you probably looked silly walking down the street, wearing a short V-neck dress with high heels obviously to party, but there is a permanent frown on your face.

When you looked up from your phone, you didn't even need to look for the club. You can feel the music vibrate the ground and there is a huge line at the entrance. You turned off your phone and waited in line, wanting to just drink all day and celebrate by then. You checked on your friend (an international student like you) who promised that she'll be here, but your message was left on delivered for 2 hours.

After 15 minutes of scrolling through your Instagram and 3 missed calls to Liz, it was your turn to show the security your ID. His dark eye bags showed you that he was too exhausted to care, so he took less than a second to glance at your card before returning it to you, and opening the door for you in a frustrated way.

You walked in awkwardly, couples grinding and dancing around you, you felt disgusted - and secretly jealous. The club was dark and had red LED lights, it was filled with large posters of icons and models from the 70s, and of course the playboy magazines of women wearing lingerie. It looked good enough for you to settle down on the bar stool and immediately order a light drink.

While you were sitting there to decide whether you should dance or wait for Liz (you were honestly frustrated at her for ditching you with no explanation), the bartender passed a large drink towards you. You glanced at him with a confused look, “oh sorry, I didn't order this.”

“Yeah I know, it's the man there.” He pointed to the table on your left, to an older man with thin white hair. Your jaw dropped when you looked at him, realizing that he caught you staring.

“Umm… that old man?” You tried your hardest to whisper over the thudding music, trying not to let the creep that is sitting just 2 meters away from you hear what you said. The bartender nodded and walked away to the other side of the bar, making you sigh in annoyance that he didn't bother to even help you out. You slowly pushed the light pink drink away from you, it smelled strong which showed his true intentions, getting you drunk.

You pulled out your phone and texted Liz a quick message, “Liz a man is being weird where are you ☹️☹️?” You scrolled through your gallery to pretend you are doing something and distract yourself from the man on your left, until you are tapped on the shoulder. You froze, quickly turning off your phone as you took a deep breath, pretending that you didn't feel it.

“May I know why you didn't accept the drink, it was really expensive.” you flinched when you felt his breath hit your neck, no way this is happening today. Where the fuck is Liz? You turned around slowly, trying to act calm and collected, “sorry, I didn't want to drink today, I'm just here for someone.”

“I don't see anyone here,” he mockingly glanced around the bar to see the ‘person’ you were waiting for. “I saw you drink just a few minutes ago.”

You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath. You glanced at his striking blue eyes and felt your hands starting to shake, you looked away back to the drink he ordered for you and grasped it, taking a small sip just to taste what it is. You knew you were fucked, Liz isn't here and she's probably not going to come, the bartender couldn't give a shit, and this man won't leave you alone. Why was he at a bar on a Wednesday night? Doesn't he have some office job to do tomorrow or is he too old that he's retired now.

The drink tasted sour and tangy, but had a strawberry flavor. The burning of your throat made you cough and your eyes shutting close, it was definitely alcoholic, very alcoholic. You rested the drink on the table and faked-smiled and awkwardly nodded, but your smile disappeared when his hand clutched your arm and pulled you forward, “why don't you dance with me, huh? Wearing this dress for nothing must be a shame.”

You panicked and took a quick scan of your surroundings to see who could help. On the bar table to your left, there were other older men, possibly friends of the weirdo that's now bruising your arm. On the large leather sofas that were placed on the other corner, there was a couple?...a throple? A man was sitting comfortably on it as he crossed his legs on the mini table in front of him, two girls were sprawled over him, one playing with his hair and the other playing with his shirt while she chugs from a beer can…yeah they will be too busy to help.

You took a quick turn to the VIP entrance, seeing a short girl with a Gucci bag waiting to be let in… rich spoiled people are too busy to look around. You swore you never cared about religion until then, when the man tugged you to his chest, your eyes slowly closing as you were holding your tears praying to God to let you out of this misery.

You felt his hands being placed on your hips, as he forcefully tugged your back towards his groin. He pushed you to the crowded area so people can't see your discomfort in your face.

But before he does more than this, a large hand tugged you away from the man, making the man behind you exhale loudly. “Anna! I'm sorry for making you wait, hey let's go…umm do you know him?” you've never heard such a soft yet deep voice like this. Before you even had the chance to look at who grabbed you, her right arm tugged you into her chest, trying to hide you from the stranger. “No, I don't.” You whispered, afraid of making the situation even bigger.

“Seriously? you were waiting for this…” His angry voice and arm pointing at the both of you made you anxiously stare at him. He looked at the woman hugging you up and down with disgust before muttering a ‘nevermind’ and stomping off.

You shakingly held tightly into her, staring at the spot the man was at. “Are you okay?” She let out a soft whisper from above your head. You were shaken at the whole encounter, blocking off what she said until you felt soft taps on your shoulder, making you look up at her.

This was the first opportunity you had to actually see who saved you from this, and she was gorgeous. She had sunglasses placed on the collar of her dress shirt with two of the buttons opened. Why was she even wearing a dress shirt at a club? When you looked up to her face (because she's 5 '9 and the first thing you saw was her tan skin), her hair was short, swooped to the side. Her cheekbones were sharp and her eyes were furrowed worriedly. You quickly separated from her and took two steps away.

“Hey, it's okay.” She took a step forward, opening her hands around her face to show you she doesn't want to hurt you, “are you waiting for someone?”

You looked away from her eyes, the smell of alcohol and sweat is making it difficult for you to think straight -literally. You looked at your phone, finding a new notification, “oh thank God she responded!” You relaxed, until you pressed on it.

“Hey baby!! It's your favorite uncle 😉, just saw your post about graduating. Congratulations! I miss you so much. Maybe one day we can all reunite when you graduate your masters 💪keep working hard!”

You inhaled deeply, turning off your phone and throwing it in your mini purse. You looked at the woman, she looked at you with raised brows waiting for an explanation for your reaction. You rested your hand on your forehead and frustratedly groaned out, “no she fucking ignored my messages.”

Her face turned sour as she looked behind you, probably to the place where the old men were sitting, giving you the chance to look at her face once again. You blushed at her clenched sharp jaw, slight pink cheeks, and the soft lips. When you looked back at her eyes, she was already looking at you.

You internally wanted to kill yourself for looking at her lips, because she definitely caught that. You looked away to her arms, doing everything in your power to not look at her face again. But then you realized glancing at her arms will make the situation even worse. Her arms were athletic and the sleeves were tight around her biceps. How is she this hot?

“You can stay with me, my friends are here.” She softly grasped your hand, pulling you away from the crowded dance floor. “It's fine, I'll just go home.”

“No, come on! It's a secluded area, no one will bother us.” She encouraged you, her hand still in yours. You looked down at your heels, you felt like shit. This whole time at the bar was for you and Liz to celebrate your day and you end up being a charity case for a hot woman. You don't even know why you chose the club, you hated partying anyways. You bit into your lip, one single line going through your head:

I deserve to celebrate my achievements no matter with who. I'm the one who worked hard for this, I need this.

“Okay just… Please don't do this because you feel bad for what happened.” her eyes softened, intertwining your fingers with hers and whispering a soft ‘never’. You felt embarrassed as she was dragging you around the bar to the place her friends are staying at, you didn't want to see anyone’s face so you just looked down at your intertwined hands and hoped you won't collide with anyone. Your hand looked small compared to her large ones as she held into you, feeling her rough skin tightly around yours.

When you realized she stopped, you looked up to where she took you. “Oh no… I'm not going there,” You frowned at her, “VIP? I heard it's expensive here.” You felt guilty that she might spend money on a spot for you, but you were curious on how she makes enough money to be here.

“Don't worry, my work has paid for the night here, I didn’t spend a euro on me or anyone.” She smiled at you, finding it cute how you were worried about her money. She let go of your hand and opened the door slowly, signaling her hand to follow her.

You stood still for a few seconds, feeling exhausted and tired. And unfortunately, you felt gross. You looked down at your dress, remembering what the old man said. It was your favorite, it may not look fancy but you've loved it and waited for a moment to wear it, now you can't even glance at it without feeling down. You glanced at the woman, she had already taken a few steps until she realized you weren't following her, “Do you want to go home? I can order you an Uber?”

This was your chance to actually get to know someone, you've been alone all this time in Paris and Liz was an American student. The woman in front of you seemed like the first French woman that actually tried to befriend you, and she's attractive. Her face softened as she took a few steps towards you again, understanding your silence. “My name is Elisa, what's yours?”

“Y/n.” You didn't know what to do after this so you reached out your hand to handshake her, internally cringing from how awkward you are…no wonder why your love life is as low as your mood today. She giggled and grasped your hand, shaking it aggressively. You looked at her with a confused face and she just winked quickly, “so… y/n why are you here at the club on a Wednesday night?”

“I just graduated so I wanted to celebrate.” You were staring at your held hands, feeling awkward when looking at anyone's eyes, especially élisa's. But when you felt her hand immediately let go of yours and wipe it off with her dress pants, you looked at her face slightly hurt. Her eyes are slightly widened, which made you realize why she let go of your hand, “bachelor degree in physical therapy.”

“Ohh! That's so nice. You know at my job we need a lot of physiotherapists, I like them.” Her body physically relaxed, making you laugh at her panic. The poor woman thought you were some high school student, but you didn't blame her, you never made it clear when you spoke about it.

“Cool… what do you work as?” You asked, a smile appearing in your face. You didn't realize that by a small comment, Elise made your feelings better just as she planned. She let out an open smile when she noticed yours, feeling proud of herself for making you feel better.

“Guess.”

Your smile wiped off your face, “no please I don't like doing this game just say it.”

She laughed, “I'll give you a hint, I wear number 5.”

It took a moment for you to answer because you froze when you heard her laugh, making a stupid grin plaster into your face, “...football?” You dragged the word as you questioned, worried it might be wrong. She nodded with a proud smile.

“Wow, that's so cool I do watch football!... not the women, I don't know where to watch…sorry.”

She laughed, stepping closer and resting her left arm around your shoulder, encouraging you to walk through the dark maroon hallway with her. “It's okay, we're used to it.”

When you looked up from this angle, your attraction worsened. Her side profile was perfect. It took a moment for you to recover from it, “ehm…some girls in my class wanted to be football physios so they could work with Szoboszlai.” You muttered, obviously not knowing what to say. You didn't know if you should wrap your right hand around her waist or just keep it awkwardly limping between the both of you.

She glanced at you and laughed, “and you? Is that what you wanted?”. You looked away, deciding to focus on the dark walnut wood corridor in front of you instead of her eyes. “I don't really like men.”

“Ha! Me too.” Her left arm tapped your shoulder to the beat of the music. Elisa was glad that you weren't into men; she felt like it's finally her time where she can get attention from a woman that isn't a fangirl. She pulled you inside a room, filled with people singing and jumping around.

You felt sick all over again, not knowing Elisa had this many friends. You remembered her speaking about her work paying for this, are all of these people her teammates? The room was built almost like a sunken living room, the leather couches were placed into the ground around the walls with stairs in the side, and two small tables placed in two opposite corners that were filled with drinks and purses. Elisa felt your body turn rigid, she leaned in close to your ear and whispered gently, “They're all nice, I promise.” You turned to look at her, you didn't understand why but you felt at ease around her, maybe because of what she did earlier, but you took a deep breath and calmed down.

She pointed at an empty seat next to a blonde woman, “hey Jackie, this is y/n, she's a physiotherapy graduate.” Jackie turned to look at you and elisa, she smiled brightly and raised her hand to signal you to sit with her. You let out a tight-lipped smile and approached the table to sit. You noticed Jackie looking at your attire and glancing at Elisa with a confused look, but before she said a thing, Elisa interrupted her by saying she needed to go to the bathroom.

Well shit, now you have to do this alone. You stared at Elisa as she was walking out, secretly checking her out and also praying that she’ll come back soon. “Umm… do you work here?”

You turned to look at Jackie, “oh, no. I'm just here to party.”

“Ohh…I thought you were one of the dancers offered here.” She looked at her whiskey and took a sip, clearly not seeing the shock in your face.

You froze as you gave her a confused glance, “oh. You thought I was a stripper?” You glanced down at your dress… It's a short dress, yes, but a dancer? You had no disrespect for them, just felt a little confused. Does Elisa call dancers for a lap dance? Is this where she went to?

“Oh not your dress! It's just that Elisa never spoke about bringing someone here so I assumed. Also, you're really pretty.” She gave you a wink with her compliment.

You gave her a soft smile with a shy ‘thanks’. “Elisa isn't really into those things, that’s why I was kind of confused.” She nudged your arm when you glanced at the exit again, realizing that you were waiting for Elisa. After hearing what Jackie said, you relaxed into your seat and looked at your surroundings.

Everyone seemed drunk except one, her thick black hair was tied in a high ponytail, too engrossed with her phone to really notice anyone. The other players were dancing, some were singing loudly to some song by Aya, an icon in french music from what you noticed in the past four years living here. “May I ask how you know elisa?” Jackie asked.

“Oh we just met here so…” you shrugged, you didn't feel like telling anyone what actually happened. Jackie nodded, taking her purse into her lap and pulling things out, trying to find something in it. After a while of scrolling on tiktok and looking at the girls partying, Elisa came back in, immediately settling down next to you. You looked at her with a smile, glad that she's back, but your smile was wiped off when you saw her frustrated and sweaty state. When she noticed the worry in your eyes she leaned in closer to you, “Do you like this club?”

You were caught off guard from this question and nodded slowly, “good because I want you to come back here,” You were confused, obviously you'll never come here. It doesn't matter how nice and fancy this place is, after that weirdo, you'll never step foot here. “I kicked him out, he's banned from coming here again.”

“Wa- wait what?” You gasped, looking at the door she came back from, expecting to see him standing there. But he wasn't, and even from the small glass window on the door, you can see that his spot is now empty, as well as his friends’.

“I want you to feel safe celebrating your achievements, I know today has probably been shit.” You bit your lip, turning to look at Jackie playing with her now found camera. You couldn't look at Elisa's eyes or else you would cry. You felt her hand softly caress your shoulder, bringing your body closer to hers. “Thank you, I mean… I don't even know what else to say.”

She gave you a gentle smile and turned to look at her teammates singing karaoke now. “No problem, now do you want to sing and dance with them? Or just sit here?”

“I'll just sit here, you can have fun with them.”

She looked back at you, deciding to lean back into the coach and find a comfortable position. “I play for Paris Saint Germain.”

“What! No way…I feel like shit for not watching you play.” You gasped, psg is the biggest team in France. And that's probably because they are loaded with money and can afford the top players, but you wondered how powerful the women's team is.

She laughed, quickly shaking her head, “don't feel that way! I just wanted to tell you. We just got qualified for the quarterfinals of the champions league that's why they're all drunk and shit.” She tilted her head towards a player dancing on the table. You bit your lip trying not to laugh at the poor woman, but when you heard Elisa's cackle, you let out a little laugh.

“Quarterfinals to the champions league… that's great! That's so cool, honestly, you should go and dance with them!” You pushed her towards the women, but she didn't even budge. She winked at you when she saw you try to move her and held your arm down, “Are you actually trying to push me or are you playing around?”

You knew she was joking, she can tell your struggling face when you tried to push her. You glanced at the way she grabbed your forearm, feeling the blush coming around your cheeks. Her muscles tensed beneath her fitted black shirt, elisa has been trying to subtly send you hints without panicking too much. But she knew she needed to do something even more, so she let her hand slowly go from your forearm to your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. A shy smile broke out in both of your faces, looking up to see her already smiling at you. “Okay…maybe I do want to dance a little.”

You bite your lip and give her a soft nod, indicating that you wanted to dance with her. She grinned brightly and stood up from the couch, delicately pulling you with her. You felt content for the first time, you're finally going to dance and party like how you wanted before you came here in the first place. Elisa pulled you into her body, looking at your eyes to see if you're okay with her wrapping her arms around your waist. You felt speechless so you just nodded and dragged your hands from her forearms all the way to her shoulders, blushing at the feeling of her rough muscles.

Because you were busy trying to mask your flustered state, you didn't notice the panic Elisa was in. Her tightly wrapped hands were shaking and it seemed like she couldn't even glance at your face for three seconds without finding something else to look at. The girls had stopped singing karaoke now, the speaker playing some french afrobeats. “I forgot to tell you, I'm shit at dancing. I was planning on getting too drunk to care.” You admitted with a laugh, elisa tightened her hands around your waist, making your chest flush with hers. “Oh wait until you see me dance.”

“You do realize this song isn’t for slow dancing?” You loved the feeling of her body against yours, but the idea of slow dancing to afrobeats in front of people is confusing you. “Shhh don’t ruin the moment now.” she joked, turning her head around the room, she looked back at you and said, “They’re all too drunk to care.”

You looked around the room, and fortunately she was right. The girls were all dancing, separated into multiple groups and only focusing on them. Even the sober one had stood up and was dancing with the rest. You rested your head on her shoulder, feeling like it doesn’t matter at this point what happens between you. Elisa will probably forget about you, and date an instagram model like every football player does -well… that’s what the male players do at least.

“You tired?” her velvety voice soothed you as she leaned her head on yours. You closed your eyes and hummed in response, not feeling like moving your body. You tried to excuse the exhaustion as the sickness from the old man, but throughout the semester, you have been sleeping 4 hours and only working and studying. And today has been the day you can finally rest.

Elisa moved her hands from your waist to wrap them around your shoulders instead. As much as she was worried about the possible rejection from you, she felt great about you being okay with her physical touches and wanted to enjoy the chance. She can feel your beating heart from the thin dress you’re wearing against her sternum. Elisa’s long fingers were playing with the hem of the dress from your neck, her body slowly rocking as if she’s putting a baby to sleep.

“Thank you,” You whispered, opening your eyes just to see her jaw. “For today. I may not seem happy, but I am really grateful for this, I’m happy.”

“Do you want to go home?”

You stayed silent for a few seconds, before letting out a short breathy laugh, “Is it obvious I don’t like to party?” You didn’t want to offend her, especially after what she did.

“I can call an uber for you, or I can drive you home if you don’t feel safe.” You almost wanted to cry at how thoughtful she is, but you knew you needed some alone time after all of this. Also, the thought of parting ways with Elisa and her completely forgetting about you is eating you alive.

“Thank you, but I’ll feel very guilty if I take you away from the party you should be celebrating.” You let go of the tight embrace you were in, looking at her eyes to let her know how much you meant it. She sighed and nodded with a small hidden frown in her face. Elisa felt like a child attached to a toy, she was worried to let you go and never find you again. Now that she kicked the assaulters out, she hoped you’d come to the club more often.

“Okay, I’ll walk you out.” She held your hand and walked you out of the VIP entrance. The smell of sweat and alcohol hit you in the face, the club is even busier now since it was around 10 at night. Elisa pulled you to her body, putting her arm around your shoulder protectively in case someone does a thing to you. Once you reached the closest exit, she pushed the heavy door and let you go out.

“Ehm… Can I have your phone number?” Elisa suddenly blurted, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye, so she said the lamest thing she thought, “Just to make sure you went home safe…you never know what can happen.”

When Elisa asked that question, your heart started beating faster, your worry about losing her is now out of your head, feeling glad that she wanted to contact you. But after her explanation, you sighed in disappointment, she’s probably not interested in you, she wants to know if you went home safe only.

“Yeah, okay.” You opened your hand, waiting for her to hand you her phone. She pulled out her phone from her front pocket, and passed it to you quickly. Her palms were sweaty from anxiousness, and she hoped her sweat wasn’t all over the phone. She knew she fucked up, she could’ve told you the truth but instead she acted like some sick teenager, and it made her even more annoyed with herself when she saw the excitement in your face disappear like fog. She wanted you to know she’s interested in you. You typed your phone number quickly, before giving it back to her with a tight smile.

“Bye-Bye,” You stepped back, still facing her. “Again, thank you for today.” You gave her a small wave, and then turned and walked your way back home. She was invading your thoughts, her face, her smile, her deep yet delicate voice, her body, and the fact that she’s a professional player that can get anyone she wants.

Once you reached home, you looked at your phone notifications, there were none. 0 from Liz, and 0 from Elisa. You cussed yourself, why would she even bother to text you? She is the hottest woman you’ve ever seen, you probably look like charity work next to her exes. You boiled water for instant noodles, feeling too low to even worry about making dinner. After eating the soggy cheap noodles, you turned on the bathtub faucet and added some oils to calm you down and distract you from Elisa. You contemplated on searching up her name and see what google says about her, but you forced yourself to not even look up a picture of her. She clearly doesn’t care about you, why would you care about her?

After the 30 minute depressing bath, you plopped into the bed, not bothering to put the blanket over you. You suddenly heard a notification ding from your phone. Closing your eyes tightly, you swore that if it's Liz you'll run to her house barefoot to yell at her. When you heard another ding, you opened your eyes slowly and reached out for your bedside table.

[Unknown number]

I'm sorry

I was acting like a kid around u I wanted to ask you out but I got too shy

Can I take you to dinner one day?

You bit into your lip harshly, trying so hard to suppress your blush. You thought about it for a second, you weren't mad because she couldn't ask you out in front of you. You couldn't do it either, and you were also flattered to the thought of her being too shy in front of you. It felt as though she was the confident one there. It didn't matter anyways, what mattered is that you wanted to be hers. And if this date is the first step, you'll take it.

[You]

Okay

Only if I can go and watch you play on the quarterfinals

[Elisa ⚽️]

Really??

YES OF COURSE

Only with my jersey 😉

You turned off your phone and banged your head into the pillow, grabbing your phone again to send her a quick message.

[You]

Of course

I'm going to sleep rn

Good night 💞

[Elisa ⚽️]

Good night 😴

You turned off your phone and closed your eyes, immediately sleeping from the exhaustion of the day.

[Elisa⚽️]

The dress looked perfect on you.

#elisa de almeida #élisa de almeida #nel's writings #elisa de almeida x reader #élisa de almeida x reader #elisa de almedia fluff #woso #woso fanfiction #woso fanfics #woso x reader #women’s football #wlw fanfic

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cookie-crumblr · 4 months ago

Note

can you write a Dezrend x fem shapeshifter unicorn! Reader where reader is in their unicorn form and is frolicking around a field then Dezrend finds reader, noncons, then over stims reader until reader is dumbed out and enjoys it?

Oh fuck YESS OMFG

MINORS DNI!

F!Unicorm Reader x M!Dragon OC!

CW: F!reader, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, reader and oc are shaeshifters basically furry?(they’re like legit animals i never know how to tag this XD), ML has 3 peens, inhuman anatomy, NON-CON, dumbification, monster fucking but they’re in humanoid form eventually, massive size difference and kink, stomach bulge, p in v, p in b, dacryphilia, cervix fucking, furry?(we are a unicorn fucking a dragon LOL), also idk if horses have clits i don’t really wanna know tbh so please don’t correct me if not XD we are a unicorn so just pretend, reader has long hair, cumflation, creampie,

Your beautiful mane flows around you as you canter through a field of little round white flowers, in a deep green forest clearing. You felt safe concealed by a deep fog. The flowers stalks tickle your strong legs as you hop over them. You giggle and prance, stopping only to roll onto your back in them for a minute. When you look up and see a dark and terribly massive dragon’s shadow flying overhead.

You flip back onto your powerful hooves as fast as you can, but when you look back, you watch as the dragons slit pupils meet yours through a break in the ground clouds in a snap. It’s too late, it’s already aware of you.

You’re frozen, staring into those black slits as they get closer swiftly crashing onto land before you. The dragon’s wind blows all of the flowers over, clears the fog, and its gargantuan body crushes a portion of the field beneath it. It’s hands and feet crush more as it approaches you.

Frighteningly, the ground shakes with each step, and so do your legs.

A scaley, taloned finger as big as your body meets your chin and tilts your face up, you’re snorting in fear and you finally regain some mobility shifting weight from hoofed leg to hoofed leg. Wind kicks up around you and the field as the mighty creature shrinks itself to only just bigger than you.

You don’t mean to but you look in between it’s legs (which to your credit, is just slightly below your eye level), there are three very gigantic, weeping cocks hanging down.

Your eyes widen in even more horror and you fall onto your equine ass trying to back up to get away. You roll over and try to run, but your hooves slip against the morningdew-damp foliage and pull at the roots, tripping you more and not letting you stand. You thought you would get eaten! Not that!!

youre prone and exposed for him, and he takes advantage, pouncing on you in an instant. Your panic swells, the blood pounding in your ears, you buck wildly.

You feel the things slither between your legs. They’re wet and they rub you down your slit as he mounts you. Two tips pierce your entrances, and it is already the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, you winnie, air puffing out of your nostrils in little clouds, and your front hooves are desperately try to pull yourself up, trying to get you away.

“Little Unicorn, legendary, but so weak.” He pushes all the way in, you feel your vagina stretch to accommodate his size, and your stomach bulges onto the ground beneath your laying form. You can’t breath! You’re so absolutely stuffed you can’t get air, and your head spins. You see the blue sky blackening.

His third hefty and hot cock slithers over your stuffed cunt, rubbing you deliciously with a mind of its own. It thickly heats up your entire being with every minuscule movement of the dragon adjusting.

You feel like you might pass out, breathing in and in and in but getting no air, until you feel a sudden tearing on your left flank and winnie louder, now able to breathe once more.

The pain is sharp, searing even. You turn your head enough to see that his talons have raked into your previously unmarred flesh. Fat tears fall down your gorgeous snout. You’ll have those scars for the rest of your life, however short that may be now.

“Hah! Cry, little legend!” His hips thrust, forcing his dicks deeper inside you, they stretch your gummy walls and feel as though they’re tearing you apart. His heavy dragon balls slap underneath you and amplify these stirring hot feelings in your core. A wailing moan leaves you as your body starts to accept him.

Two front hooves dig into the dirt, the flowers around you bend this way and that peacefully in the breezes as they ignore your peril. Your back hooves are practically crushed beneath the weight of this creature. He starts to slide in and out of you, picking up more speed as he does.

His hips buck into your rear, and his dicks feel as tho they’re tearing you apart inside, while his third pleasures you beyond imagine. your tongue lolls to one side as the surmounting pleasure builds. it slides putting more pressure onto the outside it feels like it’s specifically searching for your clit.

His sharp talons wrap around your neck and squeeze without puncturing your skin there, he pulls your neck and makes your back arch, his dicks plunge even deeper as your body takes him easier and easier. Soon The pleasure is all you feel, the pain not even a memory any longer in your now dumbing head.

He turns you and him at the same time into humans, he seems to have kept his three separate dicks, as your holes remained stuffed.

Your hair in human form is long and unkempt, you’ve never chosen to be in this body. Being a unicorn is just so much better.

A voice falls from your now plush little lips, and your practically hairless skin glistens and sparkles in the sun. Nails and knees dig into the soil beneath you, as your ass is up as high as it will go for the dragon in man form behind you, connected to you by the thick slithering members still penetrating you.

“Ah!!~” Crying out, you can’t help but want more at this point! Your coil is twisting and burning and building and making you beyond dizzy, you need it to snap! “Please! M-more!”

“Hah! Good little unicorn, taking me so well, you even like it now, huh?”

“Mhm!” You practically slur, you feel light headed and stupid you’re getting so fucked out, your body having been taken well beyond its limits, but you’re in bliss. If he kills you, it might be just the perfect end… But you’re only concerned with the right here and now. And right here and now, you’ve got one dick in your intestines and one curled up inside your cervix, and the last cupping your burning sex.

You push your body back into him, trying to take more and more! Your ass fits into his hips like a heavenly puzzle piece, you chase your own high. he squeezes your throat harder, definitely leaving a bruise, you choke out drunken moans, enjoying the stars in your vision as they blip in and out of your fading vision. He lets up enough for you to remain conscious, but keeps you in that sweet spot between dimensions.

The cocks inside of you pulse and grow, and your walls contract at just the right time, he bloats your stomach full of his dragon seed. You’ve finished in a blinding flash, and clarity hits you. His cocks are still inside you.

#my oc #yandere #oc x reader #oc x you #yandere x reader #yandere dragon oc #dragon smut #dragon oc #dragon x reader #unicorn reader #fem reader #f!reader #x reader #x oc #x you #monster fucker #monster x reader #monster x you #reader x dragon

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sunbeamah · 8 months ago

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JJK Mermaid AU just sitting in my documents-- Yuuji centric!

Naturally, Yuuji is the pearl of his pod-- the most beautiful and strongest mer there. His tail is pink and shimmery, sparkling golden in the light-- but beyond appearances, it's also very powerful. He has mating requests coming in from all the different oceans and seas.

Much to the displeasure of his nine older killer whale mer brothers.

So they set up a system-- in order to even ask to court Yuuji, you have to fight and defeat all 9 brothers, starting from the youngest (Shooso) and ending with Choso. Only 4 mers have ever beaten all 9 brothers. Inumaki Toge, Okkotsu Yuuta, Ryoumen Sukuna and Gojo Satoru.

In Inumaki and Okkotsu's cases, they genuinely wanted to court Yuuji, but ended up meeting and falling in love with one another. (Inumaki took 3 tries to defeat all 9 brothers, while Okkotsu did it in 1). They'd show off for Yuuji and push themselves harder and harder upon seeing the other, until they reached a point where it wasn't about Yuuji anymore. They weren't even thinking of him (no hard feelings though!)

Inumaki's tail is white with navy blue markings down it, his fins are very fine and large, they appear to be wavy as well

Okkotsu's is white at his hips, but quickly fades into black. There are speckles of white decorating the topmost parts, and his fins tend to have white veins running through them

In Ryoumen Sukuna's case, he called Yuuji boring, which offended the brothers and caused them to challenge him. He fought all 9 and won. Yuuji ended up fighting him afterwards, and even though he lost he continues to fight Sukuna whenever they come across each other. Sukuna (though he'll never admit it) enjoys these matches.

Sukuna's tail is a thing of legends. He's a 10-tailed octopus, a bad omen for all those that lay eyes on him. They're a dark pink to match his hair, and have black markings to match those on his upper body.

In Gojo Satoru's case, he wanted to piss the brothers off. He'd heard of their strength, and how they were undefeated across all 7 seas, and thought 'lol I could take them'. Unfortunately, he could. He doesn't do anything with his courting privileges except swim in at random times to hang out with Yuuji and piss the brothers off.

Satoru's tail is pure, blinding white, with a bright blue iridescent sheen to it. The fins are long, wide and appear to be very thin, but there isn't a single scratch or tear on any of them, a pride point for fine-finned mers

There are mers who are allowed to talk to and interact with Yuuji despite not having defeated the brothers, of course. They're a trusted minority, and their ranks include:

Ieiri Shoko

She healed Yuuji when he was sick as a guppy, and treated Shooso and Tanso's wounds from their many fights. Her tail is a murky grey, and the very tips of it are black.

Kugisaki Nobara

Their pods travelled together for a while when they were younger, and they had great fun sparring together. She's his closest friend! Her tail is a classic green (the little mermaid hehe), though she dyes it in gold around her hips and at the veins and tips of her fins-- a modern, fashionable practice

Nanami Kento

Looked after guppy Yuuji after his grandfather passed and before his brothers discovered him, and greatly disapproves of Gojo Satoru, urging him to stop visiting Yuuji. A trusted ally on all fronts. His tail is white and heavily spotted in black. There are blue tinges by his hips, and some parts of his fins are torn

Haibara Yuu

Nanami's pair, who also looked after Yuuji! An honest mer with good intentions that they fully trust. His fins are slashed right through the middle, but he still maintains an excellent swimming speed. His tail is a classic dark blue, blending into darker waters easily

Yoshino Junpei

Despite his obvious interest in Yuuji, it's clear the mer doesn't have the courage or audacity to try to propose any kind of courtship. The brothers trust his cowardliness (they're very dramatic and rude). He's a glowing blue jellyfish mer, though some of his stingers are perpetually bright yellow with electricity

And now for the list of beaten mers, and who they were beaten by:

Mei Mei - Choso

Kamo Noritoshi jr - Shoso (5th eldest)

Todo Aoi - Choso (brutal fight)

Zenin Mai (forced by her clan to fight) - Shooso (2nd youngest)

Zenin Naoya - Eso

Juzo (curse user who wanted to make Gojo into a coat rack) - Sanso (7th eldest)

Haruta (made creepy comments, had to use all 6 miracles in his first fight, tried to run after. didn't work.) - Tanso (3rd youngest)

Toshihisa (one of the curse users who fought Kusakabe) - Tanso

Manami - Kotsu (6th eldest)

a LOT of unnamed mers, usually beaten by the youngest 4. Rarely does anyone ever get up to the eldest 4.

Some mers request to fight Choso straight from the beginning, and he'll honour that request if all his brothers consent to it, but he absolutely DETESTS those that do ask -- he feels that they're disrespecting his younger brothers by not fighting them, or that they don't think Yuuji is worth all the effort of fighting 9 brothers.

Tsukumo Yuki once challenged all the brothers at once, including Yuuji, to offer courtship to Choso. She won.

Now she trains with Yuuji so that if a potential suitor defeats all his brothers, they'll have the hardest time fighting him as well.

Her tail is black with an iridescent sheen of gold, and the tips of her scales are brown. It makes for an eye-catching look!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #mermaid au #itadori yuuji #choso #kusozu brothers #choso jjk #inuokko #okkoinu #gojo satoru #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna #yuji itadori #kugisaki nobara #zenin maki #yoshino junpei #sunbeamah #just a little thing i cant write in full but love to think about #Chosoyuki

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noellerain · 1 year ago

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Antithetical ♡ [suguru x afab!reader]

noe: this man is living rent-free in my mind for days now so you can consider this fic a brainrot/love letter to this gorgeous son of a bitch.

Warnings: [ DEAD DOVE! ] dark smut, noncon/rape (reader to Suguru), somnophilia (reader to Suguru), femdom, babytrapping (reader to Suguru), profanities (vulgar words), intoxication, spitting, implied that Suguru is drugged but not by the reader, obsessive behavior (reader to Suguru), proofread once, Gojo has a cameo lol, just over all madness. [LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED SOMETHING! THANK YOU!]

+ BLOCK, DON'T REPORT!

[If you read the warnings then proceed to click/press the cut button, you consent on reading the dark material below.]

Suguru Geto is midnight personified. His jet-black hair reminds you of the night sky when it's void of the moon and the stars. His eyes are blackholes that can consume your entirety if you look hard and long enough. His scent smells like the Earth after rain: a unique, addicting scent that makes your stomach flip yet still brings you a sense of warm melancholia.

Suguru Geto is way out of your league. You know that. But while everyone is fawning over his annoying best friend, Satoru, your love-struck eyes are fixated on that enigma of a man. Just one look, whether it's intentional or in passing, can shake and blow you away like the flimsy petals of dandelions.

Tonight, as you stand in the dark corner of Satoru's living room while everyone else drinks and dances to the rhythm of the song booming from the speakers, the walls seem to close in on you.

There he is, sitting on the couch with his arm around a girl. His hair is up in its usual bun; tresses hanging on the side of his face. He's wearing a simple white shirt and black cargo pants. The simplicity amplifies his good looks.

They say that he and Satoru are two different sides of the same coin. Satoru's boisterous personality is on the face; one look at him and your alarm immediately goes off. Meanwhile, Suguru's serenity is the reason why he catches people off-guard when his true colors show.

He is a fucking mastermind. He plays the good guy role; carefully making the bed and patiently inviting his victim to lay down on it. Perhaps that's their difference: Satoru's always in a rush, his thirst never quenches. Suguru, on the other hand, takes his time. You conclude that it makes the game more enjoyable to him. That sweet, sweet reward of fucking someone dumb after all the efforts you exert may be Suguru's personal brand of drugs.

He leans closer to the girl, whispering something in her ear. She laughs and the bubbling jealousy in your chest tastes more bitter than the liquor you're currently drinking in a red cup.

It's a vicious cycle of his. For two years now, you've been nothing but a bystander. Always in the corners, watching. You've seen him lay out an elaborate plan, working his way down to different women's panties. When he finally gets what he wants, he puts his pants up and throws them away like ragdolls. Then he puts his façade— back to square one again and again and again.

Your face contorts into a frown when he smoothly puts his hand on the girl's knee. From your perspective, it looks unintentional; like his hand just happens to be there. She smirks at him, obviously enjoying the situation she's in. Your eyes narrow on his long, slender fingers, now gently rubbing her skin. It's fucking funny how life slaps you in the face over and over; there he is, the object of your obsession, sitting next to someone else, to anyone else, to everyone else but you.

His fingers slide up her thigh and give them a squeeze; the hem of her miniskirt bunches up on her lap. Your mind is beginning to go into overdrive. It's so unfair. So fucking unfair. What do others have that you don't? You take a big gulp on your drink.

"Oh? What a pleasant surprise!" Satoru's loud voice snaps your mind to sanity; your soul back to the dark corner where you're standing.

You look up at him as he strides lazily over to you, a red cup in his hand as well. He's wearing a tight black shirt and jeans that hang loosely around his waist. "I don't usually see you at my parties. What's a pretty girl doin' here in the dark?"

He leans against the wall and takes a big gulp on his drink. You don't humor his attempt for a chat. You can still feel your simmering envy as you look down on the brownish liquid in your cup.

"Not gonna entertain me, huh?" He laughs; an annoying sound that grinds your ears. "I understand, though. After all, I have a better vision than my best friend over there."

You whip your head to him, confusion all over your face. Heart beating loudly in your chest at the mention of Suguru, his one and only friend. Your lips are pursed and your brows are deeply furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He drinks again, his electric blue eyes glimmering with malice. When he puts down his cup on his side, he gives you an impish smirk. "Heh. Watch."

He pushes himself off of the wall and begins to walk away. But before he's beyond your earshot, he yells: "Second floor, last room on the West wing!"

You roll your eyes. As usual, Satoru is a menace. A baffling menace. You do not get a single word he says and you have no plans on trying. After all, guys like him are meant to be heard, not to be listened to.

Your eyes go back to Suguru. He's still on the couch but fortunately, his hands are now off the girls' body. Instead, he's pressing his forehead with his thumb while his eyes are shut tight as the girl next to him continues to babble away. The sight strikes some chords in your heart. You notice the creased skin between his forehead. It only goes away temporarily when Satoru appears and hands him a red cup.

You gnaw on your bottom lip as he taps on his forehead again with the pad of his thumb. You glare at the girl whose red lips continue to move. What is she even saying to him?

Your mind begins to wander. If it's you who's next to him right now, you're fairly certain that you won't be talking at all. You'll stare at him and listen to everything he says; hang on to every word. But Suguru is not selfish like Satoru. You know that it will be a conversation between the two of you; not just him yapping away like Satoru does.

Your heart skips a beat just by imagining how he'll look at you while you talk. He will nod, smile... Laugh. Gives you pennies for your thoughts. You pray to a higher power for the chance though you're certain that you won't be able to mutter anything coherent.

A few minutes pass by and the girl leaves. Suguru also leaves and a part of you dies inside again and again every time you see him with another girl. Where are they going? Is he going to sleep with her? Kiss her, touch her, claim her in places your mind does not dare to imagine? You finish your drink in one gulp before storming to the kitchen to grab more.

Your childishness tells you that your anger and envy are valid. After all, you've been pining over Suguru for two years now. Every time you try to move on, there is a pang of guilt in your heart. You never had him but he lives in the trenches of your heart, his name emblazoned in your mind.

But the rational part that's left of your intoxicated brain tells you that it's wrong. That you have no right to feel this way. Suguru doesn't even know you. How can you let him put a chain in your limbs and control you this way?

You wipe the liquor that dribbles down your chin. You look up and see through your hazy eyes that there are less people in the living room now. What time is it? You look down on the bottle of alcohol that you're cradling in your arms. Hiccuping, you realize that you drank half of its contents.

You stand up and the world around you begins to spin rapidly. Your knees feel like boiled noodles, unable to keep themselves upright. But still, you persevered. You leave the living room, determined to see Suguru. You decide that the madness has to stop once and for all. You can't live your life—

"Second floor, last room on the West wing!"

"Fuck you." you mutter beneath your breath as you hit your head with your fist repeatedly. For some reason, Satoru's voice decides to pop up out of nowhere.

You hiccup and begin your search to find Suguru. You look for him outside, trying to spot him in smaller crowds. At the pool area, staring at the people fucking on the water, the bathrooms… he's nowhere to be found.

You crawl your way upstairs, opening the rooms but either they're locked, empty or some people are fucking like rabbits inside.

You squint your eyes as you peek through the crevice of another door you opened. Another couple is fuck— wait. The jeans pooling on his ankles, the tight black shirt and the messy mop of white hair...

"Satoru," you drawl, inserting your head through the space between the door and the doorframe.

He whips his head, bullets of sweat dripping down his face as he smirks. "Hey. Anything I can do for ya?"

His breath is labored as he speaks; his hips continuously drilling against the girl's cunt. You can't see her from the angle but knowing Satoru, he's into beautiful girls. Beautiful, whiny girls. Her moans sound pretty, too.

"Where's Suguru?" You ask, blinking slowly.

"Told ya," he laughs. "Second floor, last room on the west wing."

"K," you sigh. You close the door and pray for the poor girl. You've never seen Satoru in action before but gods, are the rumors right. He is merciless and bursting with vigour.

You drag yourself to the last room on the West wing. Frankly, you don't even know what you're going to say to him. Does he even know you? Is he going to even hear you out?

Dread fills you to the brim when you stop in front of the door. What if he's not even here and Satoru is just messing with you? Worse, what if you see him fucking someone else inside? Gods.

You slap your cheeks to try and get a hold of what's left of yourself. It's a good thing that you're still somewhat sober despite drinking half of that bottle. You thought the liquor will make you forget but here you are, about to make the most stupid choice you've possibly ever done in your life.

Staring hard at the door, you take a sharp breath in. Your shaking fingers close around the cold knob before slowly turning it. The door finally opens and you feel your heart throb in your chest.

You peek inside then gasp in surprise.

"Su... Guru?" You whisper, pupils blown wide from the sight sprawled in front of you.

He's laying down on the mattress with his luscious long black hair spilling on the pillows. His eyes are closed and his chest is heaving erratically. Bullets of sweat drip down his forehead and there is a deep frown on his face. He seems asleep but he looks far from being peaceful.

You enter the room; your eyes languidly take in the curves of his shoulders, the muscles on his arms and his chiseled torso that are illuminated by the shaft ray of moonlight pouring through the window. Suguru always opts for loose clothing; his naked image that you've sculpted in your mind is a drastic comparison to the real thing. You thought he's going to be built like the gods but... He isn't. There is still softness; a mix of godhood and humanity in his features and your fingers twitch with the desire to touch and hold him.

Your eyes travel down his black sweatpants. The poor garment is hanging on for its dear life on his prominent v-line. His lower abdomen has a pathway of light black bush that leads to his...

You swallow thickly. There is an indentation of his dick against the fabric. You know it's wrong but your body begins to feel that familiar warmth. Here he is, the source of your mirth. The destination of your late night adventures when deep-seated desires stir. The subject of your dreams, of your fantasies, the muse of your high as thick hot cum dribbles down your inner thighs while you gasp for air; reality settles and you feel pathetic with your fingers knuckle-deep inside your cunt.

You should leave. But then what? Remain on the sidelines, longing for him, envying other girls and touching yourself to the idea of him? Here he is, served with his walls down. If you can have him once, just once…

You close the door. The sharp sound of the lock's bolt sends tingles all over your body. Slowly, you approach him. Shame burns your gut and makes your cheeks flushed. But you're here. You're here now. What matters is right now.

Slowly, you kneel in the space between his spread legs. The mattress shifts and you eye him nervously. But Suguru is still in deep sleep even when you pull down the waistband of his sweatpants and his cock springs free.

"Ah..." You breathe out, calming your heart. It's beating in your ears now as you stare at his length that's resting on his lower stomach.

The picture of his dick that you've crafted in your head is similar to the real deal and that makes you uncharacteristically giddy. It's on the longer side and its bulbous crown is pinkish in color.

With shaking fingers, you reach for it. He stays still even as your hand closes in around the base and gives him a few pumps.

"Suguru…" you whisper. The normalcy of you whispering his name like a prayer is true only in your bedroom as you touch yourself. But right now…

You continue your ministries as you stare at him anxiously. Is he going to wake up? A part of you wishes he does. Hoping that you will get to experience the stories you've heard from the women he fucked before. For him to watch you as you serve him, the memory ingraining in his mind. Your chest burns with envy again but you get a grip of yourself.

Who cares? The pad of your thumb caresses his tip. Your experience will be different. Exclusive.

You lean your entire torso down, your ass hanging in the air. You purse your lips and gather a blob of saliva before spitting it out on his dick. You use your own fluid as lube, pumping him a little bit faster now.

"So pretty, Suguru," you giggle when he breathes deeply. His cock is smooth and it's now starting to take a rigid stance. "I'm sure you taste pretty, too."

You descend your lips and pepper his length with feathery kisses. Lolling your tongue, you give him a few kitten licks, particularly the tip that you find endearingly charming.

He smells so good, too. Sweet like warm vanilla. You open your mouth and shove his length in. He's a bit longer than what you can take so your hands wrap around what's left of his dick, pumping it simultaneously as you bob your head.

He moans in his sleep, tossing a bit. Tears prick your eyes when his length hits the back of your throat. Your hands instinctively squeeze his hips, putting him in one place. You hollow your cheeks and pick up your pace, tongue swirling and licking the tip that's now leaking with precum.

"Haaa…" he gasps and you freeze.

You look at him; your eyes widen when you meet his dilating pupils. "W-what…"

He seems at loss but he doesn't push you away. Suguru blinks a few times at you as he heaves. You can almost see the cogs in his brain turn as he takes it all in.

You quickly release his dick with a loud pop before straddling him by the waist. "Shhh… It's okay."

You cup his face as panic settles in your nerves. You stare deeply into his eyes but notice that they're… absent. It's as if they are somewhere else even though they're looking at you.

"It's fine," you whisper. "It's fine. You're good. Trust me."

His head falls back on the pillows and he winces. You take the chance to finally kiss him, your legs pressing against his sides. He lays motionless, his eyes now closed. Panic dissipates from your nerves… now replaced by the thrill of it all.

You cup his cheeks and forcefully slither your tongue in. You shut your eyes and moan into his lips; he tastes like peppermint. Hollowing your cheeks again, you suck on his tongue.

When you pull away, a string of saliva keeps your lips connected. He opens his eyes, whispering something along the lines of "Who are you?"

You don't answer. Instead, you kiss and lick his skin. Worship every nook and cranny of his flesh, marking him. Your hands are all over the place too, touching him, staining his body with your shameless, scorching affection that you can no longer contain.

Your mouth envelops around his nipple as your other hand kneads on the other. You look up at him while you suck like a starved baby. He groans, his weak body trembling a bit.

"You like it?" You ask, swirling your tongue on his perked nipple. "You like being sucked like this, Suguru?"

He mumbles something that you didn't catch and do not honestly care about. Your lips go south, reaching his happy trail and his cock again.

"S-sto…p," he sighs when you press your face against his dick. "Stop… it…"

"But it makes you feel good, though…" you reply. "See? You like it. You're hard."

You shove it in your mouth again. Suguru groans like an angel as his hips buck upwards; his dick reaching the back of your throat again. He says he wants you to stop but his entire body's reaction does not match his words.

"Stop!" He screams, trying to pull away. But you keep your head in place, gripping his hips. Greedily, you suck him off until his cock trembles and spurts hot ropes of milky cum in your throat.

You pull away and swallow hard— he tastes salty. You smirk at him. He's frowning while gasping for breath.

"Wh…"

"Shhh," you shush him, leaning down and kissing his cheek. "It's alright. You taste so good, Suguru."

The words spilling out of your mouth, as well as the desire that is overtaking your body are beyond the heavens now. Your mind is in a haze and your pussy pulsates with need. You want him. You want him so bad it hurts.

"You seem weak," you whisper. "What happened to you?"

"I…" he mumbles.

You coo and kiss him again. "Shhh. It's okay. You're safe with me. I love you so much, Suguru. I love you so, so much."

You sit up on his stomach and take off your top. Your breasts spill out of the garment and Suguru can only watch with droopy eyes.

"I've always wanted you…" you mutter as you lift your hips. You take his hand and bring his fingers to your mouth to suck them.

When they're wet enough, you guide them to your aching cunt. You hold onto his index finger and use it to rub your warm clit. You keep your eyes on him as he remains still, letting you do whatever you want. He looks confused and it makes your heart ache. What's going on with him?

"Gonna put 'em in…" you whisper and slowly ease in two of his fingers inside you.

A moan rips out of your lips when his slender fingers fit snug inside your walls. You move your hips— up and down, up and down until his entire fingers are coated with your cum.

You take them off, licking the middle finger before you align the index in his mouth. He whips his head to the side— a stubborn act of defiance that makes you annoyed.

"What the fuck? You did this with other girls, I bet. Other girls that don't fucking care about you," you angrily snap, cupping his jaw. "And you can't do it for the one who loves you? How dare you?!"

You squeeze his cheeks until his lips form a small opening. You shove his index finger in, coated with your cum. With a maniacal smile on your lips, you watch as he struggles.

"I taste good, right?" You laugh and kiss him on the lips, tasting your own essence on his tongue. "I taste so good."

"S…sto—"

"Sh," you hush him. "Don't say anything. I don't want to hear you talk. I only want to hear you whine and moan. Understood? Such a good boy, Suguru."

You get off of him. Hastily taking off your jeans and underwear, Suguru's eyes widen in panic. Before he can move away, you position yourself on his waist, straddling him again into place.

"I was so fucking envious of the girls you fucked," you laugh. "They say you're good in bed. I'm a bit sad that you're too weak to show me but don't worry, okay? I love you. I love you so much, I'm going to make you feel good."

Suguru shakes his head when he sees you lift your hips. He winces when he feels you drag his dick along your clit, using your cum as lube. You spit on the crown before finally shoving him in.

You hiss in pain as his bulbous tip bullies its way inside you. Suguru thrashes for a bit before you finally take him all in. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you quickly move to ease the pain; bouncing your hips on his cock.

You look down and see him completely helpless. He's too intoxicated to even think straight, moreso move. It delights you to see him like this; beneath you as you use him like your personal toy.

"Suguru," you gasp for breath, leaning closer to him. "Does it feel good? I feel so good."

He whips his head to the side again but you don't care this time. You're too lost in the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of you; caressing your gummy walls perfectly.

You anchor your hands on his chest and pick up the pace of your hips. It's starting to strain your legs and thighs but you're determined to reach the highest of highs. Strings of whimpers and groans escape his lips. You laugh upon realizing that he doesn't have a condom on and you're not taking any pills.

"Hey, Suguru—" your breath hitches in your throat when he hits that particularly sweet spot inside you. "You're gonna be so mad at me when you wake up tomorrow. Might as well get my fill, huh?"

It's all getting in your head. You arch your back as you put your hands on his knees to anchor yourself. You throw your head back, sliding in and out of him with ease. The squelching sounds of your skins are music to your ears.

Your mind wanders as your legs begin to tremble. God. What happens if you get pregnant? Just the thought of carrying Suguru's baby makes your entire body tingle and the knot in your lower belly tighten. You look down at him and smirk.

If by chance, you get the privilege of carrying his child, will he stay in your life? That's uncertain. But one thing's for sure and that is you will have a piece of him with you forever. A laughter slips out of your lips as the knot in your belly loosens and turns into a mess— hot cum gushes out of you and sprinkles his lower abdomen.

But you continue to move despite your shaking body. You need him to reach that high. You need him to cum deep inside you and fill your womb. Suguru's hips stutter as he lets out a guttural growl. You laugh once again when you pull out and see his sticky cum drip down your inner thighs. Quickly, you gather the fluid and shove your fingers inside you, not letting a drop go to waste.

The reality sets in, akin to the times you spent alone in your bed. But this time, it's different. You don't feel pathetic. Matter-of-fact, you feel happy. Your dream is now fulfilled. This experience is yours and yours alone. And even if Suguru fucks other girls, it doesn't matter anymore. You have a piece of him in you now. You're certain that no girls had their ways with him until you. You were in charge and that made you feel powerful.

Suguru's eyes flutter until they finally close. Sweat drips down his forehead as his chest begins to heave deeply. His face does not look like he's in pain anymore and that makes you smile.

You lean towards him and kiss him for the last time on the lips before you get dressed. You pull up his sweatpants, his cock now flaccid. You don't bother wiping him clean. Even just for tonight, you want him all over you.

You leave the house with your head above the clouds; your throbbing cunt misses him already.

#suguru x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw: somnophilia #tw: noncon #tw: spitting #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk suguru #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #[noelle's works (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)]#suguru geto x afab reader #suguru x afab reader #suguru geto x afab reader smut #suguru x afab reader smut #suguru smut

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noblesixjm04 · 10 months ago

Text

I can't get this out of my head. It's just something that ive had rattling around. If this doesn't make much sense I'm sorry lol but.

Do you ever think about if the Spartan ii's ever met one of those siblings without realizing it?

Like. John meeting a young female marine. She's quick witted and wicked smart. There is almost nothing she will back down from. At least not until she gets a "win." She will never leave one of her teammates behind. She's also known among her friends for her dry sense of humor.

One day she runs into John whiles he's out of armor. She never realizes that he's the Master Chief as they stare at one another. Blue eyes look into blue. The roots of her hair are blonde. Contrasted against a dark brown. They share the same smattering of freckles. Dusted along their face and down to their arms. Petering out along the backs of their hands.

And when she smiles there's a gap in her front teeth. (One tooth is chipped from a hard won game of King of the Hill.) She jokes that they match.

Apparently her brother had to. Her parents told her about him. How he had passed a few years before she was born. Her mother told her about her and her brothers shared a constellation of freckles.

Maybe Kelly runs into a pair of twin engineers. One is a girl. The other a boy. The girl has her hair cropped short. It's faded green. The boy has long hair. Held back in a tight braid. It's blue.

They strike up a conversation with Kelly one day. Mostly out of boredom. At one point talking about how they had been on their schools track team. Twin Terrors they had been called. They were the fastest in the entirety of their schools career.

They are the only two out of the group of engineers and scientists that could match her humor.

Kelly never sees them again after that. But she thinks about them often enough. About how they all shared the same accented voice.

About the day they all raced.

She won. Of course. But something about it made her feel like she was missing something. She matched it to the same feeling to her younger years with the rest of the ii's on Reach. On some of the few days they had true fun.

Linda was sent to therapy. Well. Not really sent. It was... Suggested. That she go.

Linda did. This time. For the first time. The last time.

She met an older man. Her elder by about three or four years. With the same red hair, that has streaks of white at the temples, and piercing green eyes.

Those eyes that looked at her like she does down the snipers scope. Those eyes that seemed to know her own.

She could see them widen. Hear the hitch on his breath as they flicker to a photograph and then back to her.

He...

Maybe she had seen him in passing once. Despite him never having been on this ship before.

He has been the one to pull the trigger.

"I don't think I'm the right match for you." His voice rumbled in a familiar way.

When she left. Linda tried to stop thinking about the worn, frames photo on his desk. The one with a boy. About eight or nine. With a shock of bright red hair. He held an archery trophy in one hand. In his other. The hand of a little girl. Close to five. With that same shock of red hair and green eyes that seemed to see you even through the cameras lense.

Fred meets a medic after a nasty injury. The Odst's and Marines in his company joke that he has as getting the best medic around.

He was a young man. Kind and deeply empathetic.

Those same Marines also joked about how the two of them could be siblings in a different life. With how they shared the same sloped nose and sharp jaw. The same, soft manner of speaking.

"Seriously Lieutenant. Just give the Doc the same hair cut. Could fool me that's for sure."

The medic said that he did have a brother. One that he has never met. That he had passed away a few months before he had been born .

But he and his parents visited his grave every year on his brother's birthday. And that this was the first year that he wouldn't be able to.

"He's be turning thirty three today." The medic had just finished Fred's stitches.

"Oh." Fred spoke it before it could be stopped.

"Oh what?" The medic had asked.

"I turned thirty three today." It was one of the few things he remembered. Something he rarely thought about. Because something around it had made his heart hurt.

"Here then. Happy birthday." The medic handed Fred a chocolate granola bar.

#halo #fred 104 #kelly 087 #linda 058 #john 117 #idk man #like #i cant help but think like #what if little fred had been so excited to have a new sibling #what if it was something he was forced to forget about because it's something he wouldn't stop talking about #do you think kellu would have helped her siblings practice with track?#do you think they would have continued her legacy of being the fastest kid on track?#do you think Linda would have adored her older brother?#that she would copy everything he did?#how even being a sharpshooter followed her all the way to reach #that the family's sharp eye stayed with her no matter what?#do you think that john would have been super protective of his baby sister?#that even though he was nearly sixteen years older than her that he would have adored her?#loved her so much that he would enlist in the unsc to keep her safe?#to protect her from the covenant?#do you think she would have followed right after him after they both lost their parents?#sorry for the rambling lol

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catiuskaa · 1 year ago

Text

Floral Troubles: Tales of love.

It’s been hard dealing with your recent love life with how busy the flower shop has been since the wedding season started, over two weeks ago. It was just you, the ribbons and greenery, until he hugged you from behind, left 20 bucks on the table and in an affectionate tone, asked: “How do I say I love you in flower?”

and because of all the support you showed, yes, my loves, flower Binnie is back for more >:)

A/N: Thank you so much for all the reblogs and the votes! I never expected 'Yeah, flowers follow' to blow up like it did, and I'm really happy that you guys read it and enjoyed it as much as I did when writing it!

This can be read as a stand-alone, although I hope you guy's like this one as much as its 'first part', which I'll link here.

basically bc I mentioned to @tangerminie that there was a possibility that I'd do a part two (just bc she reblogged and said "Changbin, you can just go fetch more flowers", and she was right, Changbin's not the idiot, I am, LOL) and well, I committed 💪

word count: 4k. [☆☆❁☆☆]

It was after lunchtime when the bell rang inside the shop again, making you groan slightly towards yourself. Your feet hurt from standing up, knowing that your mother needed the only stool available —because God forbid she lets you take a chair from your apartment, which was just upstairs—.

You wished for hours to pass faster or for better shoes.

"One second, please!" You let out, quickly wiping your mouth with your sleeve just in case, wrapping up the white roses you needed for a booking made two weeks ago. Busy designing and planning the different flower arrangements with a soon-to-be bride, you had little to no free time, days passing by inside the little flower workshop behind the beaded curtains. And, sadly for your poor heart, that also had meant less time for a special someone, who was also busy composing, rapping, and most importantly, looking handsome for his fans.

Rushing to the counter, you bowed and smiled, eyes closing and dimples showing, hoping your encounter didn't involve one of those mean customers that think the Sun spins around them.

"Sorry, what can I-?"

"Hey, pretty."

You opened your eyes at max speed, seeing him giggle, his captivating almond-shaped eyes welcoming you with energy and enthusiasm. His hand travelled closer to your face, tucking some rebel hairs that had gotten out of the messy bun you had.

Looking around, you smiled widely at the empty sight, the different flowers and plants being the only witness of how you skipped on top of the counter, pulling the so-called "dark idol" into your embrace.

"Binnie," you mentioned, barely in a whisper, your tensed body quickly sinking on him, the light scent of cologne surrounding you feeling like a breath of fresh air.

You cupped his face between your hands, thumbs stroking the rapper's cheeks.

"You saw my text, right? I'm sorry... I know you only get this week off before not having much free time. I'm sorry I couldn't make it to our date, and I know being sorry doesn't really make up for it, but-"

He gave you a small peck, interrupting you.

"It does, silly. I know you have stuff to do, don't sweat," he smiled, and you snuggled closer to him. "You know I love this, but if your mom sees you on top of the counter, she'll kill me."

"I'll be your knight in shining armour, my prince. Thou shan't be afraid no more," you mentioned in a solemn yet somewhat mocking tone. Changbin chuckled loudly.

"I missed you, flower girl."

You got down from the counter, blushing.

"I missed you too, world star." You blew a kiss at him. "Stay with me?"

He nodded, staring intensely into your eyes, which made you smile. "So? You stormed in here just to flirt with the store's employees?" You covered your mouth with one hand, acting deeply offended. "You know, my manager will hear about this."

He played your game, turning upset in the blink of an eye. "How dare you? I just came here looking for yellow pansies."

You tried keeping up the act but couldn't hold back a smile, the idea that he had memorized parts of the book you gave him being funny in your head, blush still on your face. You took only one flower from its place and handed it to him in a huff.

"It means 'thinking of you.'" he nodded, proudly remembering the flower's meaning.

"Oh. Who's that for?" You asked, giving him a playful side-eye.

His smile lightened the colourful space. "You, of course."

"Ugh, I'm going to get diabetes. Hi, sweetie." Your mom entered with a cheeky smile, greeting the buff man only, making Changbin and you snort, still giving each other puckish looks.

"Hello, ma'am."

"Ah, you make me feel old! Just call me Deiji."

You quickly put the flower back in place and opened the small door to let Changbin access behind the counter.

"You can give the boy the stool I was using. I'll go upstairs and rest for a bit. It's time for my TV drama," your mom explained, ignoring how your eyebrows shot up, leaving the room with a big smile.

You waited until you heard steps above your heads, Seo looking at you with an amused expression. "She's been saying all day that the stool was hers until the day that she'd die. Unbelievable!"

"She loves me more," he teased, spinning side to side on the seat like a small child.

You laughed. "That's because you're adopted. She stole you from Chan Hyung."

The jokes continued, a funny atmosphere settling in the flower-crowded building, mixing with the low-toned music you played in the background.

"Hey, sweetie, come in here," your mom told Changbin, appearing through the curtains from the workshop. "We don't want people coming in here for the visuals rather than for the flowers," she joked half-heartedly, with the only intention of taking care of the idol, allowing him to rest without worrying about any gossip that could be spread.

He cackled, thanking the woman, quickly taking the stool and stepping inside the workshop. As he entered, he was immediately greeted by an atmosphere of creative energy and controlled chaos. Unlike the pristine and organized front area, the workshop was a less spacious room filled with several metal tables, each displaying an array of tools, materials, and unfinished floral designs. Vases, containers, and plastic baskets were scattered across the surfaces, some filled with water, others holding half-arranged bouquets.

The floor surrounding the workbench, situated in the centre of the room, was covered with scraps of greenery, petals, and snippets of ribbon, evidence of the ongoing creative process. The surface above was also cluttered with tools of the trade. Pairs of floral shears, wire cutters, and various types of scissors Changbin wouldn't know how to differentiate, each worn and marked from countless uses.

He took a deep breath, the air perfumed with a fragrant scent of blooms, mingling with the earthy aroma of greenery and the faint hint of floral foam that, funnily enough, resembled yours perfectly.

It was just like you, he thought, the workshop possessing a vibrant energy and a sense of untamed, natural beauty, both characterized by their creative essence and a certain level of organized mess.

He loved it.

The bell above the main door rang again, and he couldn't help to stare back at you through the beaded curtains.

Maybe it was only to him, but your presence exuded an aura of sincerity and radiance that was impossible to ignore. He had only seen that kind of beauty in movies, the ones he saw to get inspiration for his lyrics. With an ethereal glow surrounding you, to Changbin, you were like a magnetic charm that drew people in —the people being him—.

He had never been so into someone before. There had been flings here and there, but none of those had reached this level of intensity. His eyes didn't leave your figure, his heartbeat echoing in his ears as he saw you greet some clients.

Your lips, delicately curved and inviting, held a gentle smile to the people you were paying attention to. They were adorned with a subtle touch of colour. The sudden need to peck them, imagining the cute face you'd make afterwards, became more intense.

He admired your confident yet effortless stance as you moved through the store, looking for the bouquet the client had asked for.

"Oh!"

Changbin snapped out of his daydreaming, facing Deiji.

"So you're serious about her," she concluded with a sly smile.

Seo found himself unable to hold back a goofy smile as he scratched the back of his neck. She giggled, the smile on her features making her look younger.

"Come, sweetie." She invited Changbin upstairs, grinning happily. "I can't let my future son-in-law get cold in the workshop!"

As he ascended a small flight of stairs, he was greeted by a quaint entryway leading to the apartment's main living area. The open floor plan created a sense of spaciousness, allowing the living room, dining area, and kitchen to seamlessly blend together.

Above the bustling flower shop, the small apartment had a cosy and charming ambience that invited anyone to sit and relax. Despite its modest size, it was easy to see your touch in the small decorations that crowded the building.

"It's quite messy, but let's pretend otherwise," your mother said, dismissing it with a flick of the wrist. Changbin laughed, feeling at home.

His eyes locked with another staircase, even smaller, that had books and pots on the side that wasn't facing the wall.

"Her room is in the attic, if you want to wait there," Deiji mentioned slyly.

He had to hold back his curiosity, fidgeting with his rings.

"Can I?" Seo questioned sheepishly.

"Of course! I'll get her there soon, don't you worry!"

She softly rushed the buff man upstairs. Changbin couldn’t help but smile, seeing a wooden sign with several flowers painted. It was so obvious it was your room, you could feel it, and the sentiment intensified once he entered.

With its sloping ceilings and exposed wooden beams, it had a rustic charm that added character and warmth. Soft, natural light came through a dormer window, casting a gentle glow upon the space, which made the furniture inside seem magical.

Against one wall, a somewhat messy, wooden, old-looking piano took centre stage, its unpolished surface and stickers adding to the atmosphere the soft glow of fairy lights delicately draped around it created. The instrument served as a focal point of the room, where it was noticeable you spent hours, judging by how used it looked and how several music sheets filled with compositions adorned a nearby music stand and walls.

The attic's nooks and crannies were transformed into storage areas for various instruments and books. A violin rested upon a stand, ready to be played. An acoustic guitar leaned against a wall, waiting for the touch of skilled fingers. A collection of books, whether flower-related or not, were carefully arranged on a vintage bookshelf, adding a touch of your own personality to it. Close to it, there was a small desk that stood by the window, offering a dedicated space for writing and composing music, in between the range of options. It was adorned with notebooks filled with scribbled lyrics, a laptop for digital composition, and a collection of pens and pencils.

Changbin couldn’t help but lie on the bed as soon as he saw it, looking at the walls of the attic, which were adorned with posters of iconic musicians and whatnot, reflecting your appreciation for the art form. He was excited to see known artists on the walls, happy that you two had common interests. Strings of fairy lights were delicately strung across the ceiling, casting a warm and magical ambience, reminiscent of an intimate concert venue. He hoped one day you’d play something for him, or that you two could play together.

With your flowery scent surrounding him, feeling like he had reached a feeling beyond contentment, Changbin realised how tired he felt all of a sudden, and slowly drifted to sleep.

[☆☆❁☆☆]

You hummed along with the music that kept playing, sketching possible designs for the wedding centrepieces the bride had asked for. Your mother came from upstairs and tsked when she noticed you yawning, quickly turning off the CD player.

"You young people need to sleep more. Go up to your room, I can finish these myself."

"But Mom, it's barely 8 pm, I can just-"

"Fiddlesticks. You'll fall asleep as soon as you touch your bed. Unnegotiable."

You groaned as you stood up, leaving the metal stool for Deiji. You stretched your back, your muscles sore.

"Hey, did you see Changbin leave?" you mentioned, trying to hide a childish sadness in your tone.

You didn't see your mother grin for a second, then quickly put on her round glasses, continuing your design.

"No, I didn't."

You pouted. You knew it was a bit selfish from your side. You understood that he wasn’t going to waste his free week wandering in a flower shop, but there was a small part of your mind that secretly hoped that he'd stay with you until you finished. Your mom cooed, looking at you from above her glasses.

"Moooommm," you whined teasingly. "Gimme a break."

"Whatever. You teenagers live in your own dreams." She mocked, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"You sound much older when you talk like that."

She laughed. "Just remember, I'll leave in a few hours for the flower convention with Yeongsuk. I'll come back in two days."

"Is she coming to pick you up or do you need me awake?" You inquired, taking your brown apron and hanging it on the wall closest to the stairs.

"Good night, kid."

You snickered, going upstairs slowly. You quickly took your phone and went into your messages. You pouted again, seeing that he hadn't even left a text. Tapping into his contact, you started writing an apology.

'world star ✿ฺ' hey, 'm sorry about today. I'll make it up to you.

But just when you pressed send, you were surprised to hear a notification sound coming from behind your room, the door left ajar.

You stepped in cautiously, your heart skipping a beat when you saw him snoring lowly on your bed. Your insides churned, smiling cutely. You tsked to yourself, knowing that your mom was the one behind this.

You changed into your pyjamas in the bathroom, laughing silently at the sight of the tough-looking man still sleeping cutely when you came back. You took an oversized T-shirt and some sweatpants that were too big for you, but you hadn't had the opportunity to return them yet. You approached him carefully.

"Binne?" You shook him softly.

He slowly opened his eyes.

"Wh-what?"

"You fell asleep, silly. Here, take this. You can get changed in the bathroom downstairs. It's the first door closest to the stairs."

You giggled at the marks that he had gotten from the blankets.

He came back, and you laughed at the sight of him with your clothes on. How could someone look so cute?

"Shouldn't we tell Deiji I'm staying the night?" he asked softly, getting back inside the bed, under the covers.

You snuggled closer to him, taking his arm and settling it on your waist.

"Nah. She'll leave in like two hours, anyway."

You both got lost in each other's eyes.

"You smell nice," you said, fighting to stay awake.

He couldn't help but move his hand towards the blanket, covering you a bit more.

"And you are really pretty when you're half asleep."

"Hey, you're also half asleep." You blabbered, almost unintelligible. You poked the tip of his nose. "Cute," you laughed before falling asleep. He nuzzled in your neck, hearing your calm breathing as a lullaby.

[☆☆❁☆☆]

Changbin woke up, his legs tangled with yours, still close to him, between his arms. Your breathing, calm and rhythmic, also made him relax, enjoying the sight of your body surrendering to the embrace of slumber. Soft moonlight still filtered on the room, casting a gentle glow through the windows, fighting against the Sun, which was starting to wake up too.

He smiled when he notices you do the same, a faint smile lingering at the corner of your lips.

Your room, illuminated by the soft moonbeams, looked different to him. The posters of musicians on the walls seemed to come alive in the pale light, as if whispering melodies that guided your dreams. He wondered what you were dreaming when your embrace around him tightened. He kissed your forehead, brushing stray hairs from your face, which slowly woke you up.

"Hey, pretty."

Instead of answering, you giggled, quickly getting on top of him, your legs resting on his sides, your nose brushing against his.

"Hi there, world star." You lie down, getting comfortable still on top of him. His hands travelled to your hips, caressing them, trailing shapes with the tip of his fingers.

"What time is it?" you whispered, your breath tickling his neck.

He took the first phone he could from the nightstand, trying with only one hand, refusing to let you move from on top of him.

"It's too early."

You giggled. "But what time?"

"Me time."

"Wha-? AH-"

His grip on you tightened, and he pinned you down this time, planting soft kisses all over your face. You laughed uncontrollably, one, because he's a loveable dork, and two, because it tickled, but you weren't going to say in case he'd use it against you.

"You're built like a brick!" You cackled, unable to push him off you.

"You love my strong arms, don't lie." He joked, flexing. Seo relaxed, trying not to crush you with his weight.

"I'm hungry, lung crusher."

"That's my line, you savage stealer."

"Get off and I'll make you coffee."

You both went downstairs, filling the place with giggles and light jokes.

"Hey, I'm actually sorry for yesterday. We only slept, and you could've done something better with the boys after getting the week off."

His voice was soft, words rolling off his tongue. “I prefer to be with you, the others can wait,” he said, eyes locked on yours. He wasn't going to say that he didn't care about sleeping with you —and by that he meant actual sleeping— because he loved waking up by your side, hiding his reason behind a lovestruck smile.

Suddenly, your head was spinning, at a loss for words. You couldn't quite place what was happening to you, why you were suddenly so reactive to every detail. It was a weird feeling that tickled in your chest, but you let yourself fall into it, the feeling of being loved and loving so new and daring that you couldn't get enough of it.

He sat on the stools as you took a mug for him, pouring 99% milk before microwaving it, then adding 1% coffee.

"As dark as your soul, mister."

"Very funny," he didn't laugh, not until he dunked the tip of his fingers into his drink, noticing that it was only lukewarm before splashing it on you with a flick.

He just stared at you with the same goofy smile that was on your face, while you cut some strawberries into smaller pieces, putting them into a yoghurt. He swallowed dry when he noticed you biting your lip in a sign of concentration.

"Whaddya looking at?" You said, in a somewhat sing-song voice. He just smiled, and you snickered, seeing him poking his cheek with his tongue. "Cat got your tongue?"

He laughed. "Just looking at you, hot stuff."

Your eyes opened wide, failing to hide a blush on your features that made Changbin cackle.

"Shut up, meanie," you snorted, watching him stand up, moving until he was behind you, pulling you into a back hug.

"I mean it."

You stared at him from above your shoulder, looking up and down.

"You're not too bad yourself."

[☆☆❁☆☆]

It was practically 6am after you both finished the impromptu make-out session. He stared at your lips, red and swollen.

"Don't smile like that, you cheeky bitch. Yours look exactly the same." You hit him softly on his chest, snorting, tenderly pecking him. “I need to do some arrangements, come with me? I’ll take you somewhere nice when the rest of the world is awake.”

He chuckled, letting you guide him, loving how your small hand fitted in his, fingers linking almost automatically. He took the stool as you combined the different types of greenery, playing some music on your phone.

He was going through his after noticing he had several texts from Chan, wondering if he should reply now, knowing how damn early it could be for someone who slept so little but decided to text anyways.

'red angry bird' not kidnapped yet, dw

Your heart did fuzzy things inside you, looking above your shoulder to the man behind you, spinning on the stool with his tiptoes, his messy bed hair and how your clothes looked on him making you soft.

You looked at your phone, noticing the next song on the queue and you smiled, turning around to approach him. He’s still on his phone.

“Hey, world star.” You kissed his forehead to get his attention. He freezes, his heart fluttering. “I think you know this one.”

He looked at you, losing himself in your features until he heard you singing. It was 'because', the song he sang with Felix, and you were just singing his part cause Lix’s voice was too deep for you to reach. He slowly joined your singing. Your voice, like a delicate yet powerful instrument, effortlessly blended with his, intertwining together in a melody that reverberated through the walls of the colourful flower shop. With each lyric, your voice carried the story he wrote, and he couldn't describe the feeling of happiness he achieved, knowing that you liked it too.

You kept working and singing, not noticing how he left the room. he came back with his black leather jacket in his hand, tenderly putting it on your shoulders. He took his wallet from the jacket's pocket, grabbing 20 bucks from the inside.

"Binnie, what-?"

He settled it on the table in front of you, and also carefully settled the book you gave him.

You stared at the title, "the language of flowers", curious.

His hand hugged you from behind, leaning down right next to your ear, and in an affectionate tone, he asked.

"How can I say I love you in flower?"

Your heart skipped a beat. You turned around to face him, seeing that he was hiding his other hand.

He showed you a small red chrysanthemum.

Due to the lack of an answer, his face turned worried.

"Please tell me I got it right."

You kissed him, giggling.

"I love you too, world star."

[☆☆❁☆☆]

~Kats, who now has high levels of sugar in her blood because of how fluff this was and has also lost her Duolingo strike bc she got distracted writing lol

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