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senelope · 1 year ago

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wish i'd never met you (s. gojo x f!reader)

famous!gojo x reader ; 7.4k words ; angst / smut ; minors dni

You dream of stage lights and sold out shows. But all your voice provides are little jingles – for cat food advertisements. All of that changes – in the best and worst ways – when you meet Satoru Gojo, who owns the life you can only fantasize about. And, someone who knows a thing or two about bringing your fantasies to life.

The sky was dyed with a dusty pink hue as the sun set, and yet another work day came to a close with you frustratingly slamming your laptop closed. Yet another disappointing melody.

How were you supposed to be a famous artist if you couldn’t even finish a song first?

And that wasn’t even the job you were at. To pay the bills, you pick up odd jobs here and there, most recently being a freelance voice actress for an up and coming organic cat food company. Meowmy! You’d screeched in a high-pitched voice until the co-founders – famous idol turned business woman Nobuko Takada, and her manager, a large man named Aoi Todo – were happy.

“You wanna come to our surprise birthday party?” asked Nobuko at your last recording session, winking, sending the invitation to your phone, which vibrated in your back pocket.

“Oh, happy birthday,” you said, sliding your headphones off and walking out of the recording studio.

“Not hers,” Aoi said, when you were standing beside them in the recording studio. The lights from the machines hurt your eyes; you hadn’t gotten much sleep last night trying to write new songs you hoped would either go viral or get you an agent. “It’s for my brother, Yuji.”

“Yuji Itadori?” you asked, brightening. Takada was a well known idol, so there did stand a chance that her manager was related somehow to the famous martial arts actor who was currently taking social media by storm.

Aoi brightened, making the burly man look far more approachable. “That’s him.”

“Hey,” began Nobuko, excitedly. “Weren’t you looking for a replacement performer? Since Gojo canceled at the last minute?”

You gasped at the name drop. Satoru Gojo was a media sensation – a down right superstar. Starting off as the bright center to a boy band named Honored Ones, then establishing rockstar success with his chart-topping album The Honored One announcing his solo career debut. He’d next taken the acting world by storm, and with his martial arts abilities, was also known to be Yuji Itadori’s mentor, Satoru himself having been the one who scouted him while on a trip where he also scouted the reserved Megumi Fushiguro as a soulful singer.

But you didn’t want to give in so easily. And especially without hearing a contract mention or a price quote. You had to look after yourself alone, so you had to prioritize yourself first.

So you cleared your throat, and asked what they’d pay you. The price that Nobuko said made your eyes bulge, especially when you registered the even higher price that Aoi said immediately as Nobuku finished. She tilted her head in Aoi’s direction.

“Nevermind, then. What he said,” she said, sliding her giant designer sunglasses over her wide golden eyes. She tightened her ponytails after stretching. “We’ll send the performance money soon as you walk through Aoi’s penthouse.”

You gulped. This wasn’t the first-time the wealthiest of your clients reminded you of their overflowing pockets. “I’ll see you there. Do you want covers, or originals?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she said, not looking at you as she began to leave, Aoi right behind her, holding her purse and car keys.

“Do whatever you want.” The duo left, and you decided to spend the remaining half an hour you had in the studio – it charged by the hour – on trying to record new original songs you might perform.

But, by that time, the sun was setting and you had no worthwhile melody to show for it.

Looks like covers it was. Oh, well. Satoru wouldn’t mind if you covered his songs, right? Plus, he wasn’t even going to be there. At least you were used to belting his songs in the shower, so not much time would go to memorizing and practicing. And it had the added bonus of having absolutely nothing to do with cat food. What more could a girl ask for?

Satoru didn’t have the bandwidth for this. His manager was talking about how he had to stop his homewrecking tendencies – in fact, keeping up with hiding them was costing them all the royalties that still came in from his debut. But how was he supposed to do that when the men and women who caught his eye just deserved his touch, regardless of what shone on their ring finger. Oh, whatever.

“Alright, Suguru, I got it,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “You’re ruining my appetite. I needa be hungry for Yuji’s birthday bash. I gotta eat lots of it. I mean, I chose the cake personally.” He reconsidered. “Well I told Todo what to order –”

“You’re not going,” Suguru said, flipping his smartphone – the newest electric blue one of the folding line Samsung came out with in collaboration with Satoru – closed with attitude. “But I still am. It’s your punishment.”

“But I’m performing,” Satoru said, sputtering. “C’mon, Suguruuu!”

“Canceled with Todo this morning. You are going to spend your evening crafting an apology statement for sleeping with both of Jogo’s wives. His current and his ex!”

Satoru snickered. “They married him for his money anyway. I was the one gracious enough to give them some of this co–”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Suguru said, waving his hand. “You have a reputation. I don’t need you reminding the public of it so soon before the announcement! So no more fooling around. With anyone.”

Satoru felt any drop of joy he had from remembering about defiling Jogo’s ex and next disappearing. Of course, he had to be reminded of his obligations.

When he and Suguru had been young and dumb and had signed the first contract that allowed them to break their boy band contracts and do what they wanted to do then – debut Satoru as a solo singer and Suguru as his manager. They had thought they were older and wiser – but apparently, they weren’t mature enough to think ahead to what a ten year representation contract might mean. No matter where you wanted to take your career – Satoru opening a performing arts school where he was one of the main instructors, and Suguru opening his own management studio – you couldn’t.

But – they’d finally managed to negotiate something. The absolute last thing that Satoru wanted to do. But what choice did he have? He had to free both himself and Suguru. And besides. He’d ignore it for as long as could, until the day he couldn’t, whatever day the higher ups decided was the day of the life-altering announcement.

He pouted, trying to remove all thoughts of the horrible thing from his mind and focus on the matter at hand.

And, as predicted, Suguru weakened. He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. If you finish writing the apology and get it to me by the time the party ends, you can come. No performing though, too late to change our mind. And please. I’m begging you – no scandals! The only ‘sweet’ thing your lips better be on is a frosting covered fork.” Suguru said, sounding like a tired father and a stern teacher at once.

Satoru cheered, jumping up and down while Suguru rolled his eyes and said something mean about his monkey-like-behavior.

“I’ll shove a banana up your ass,” Satoru said, ceasing to a slow stop, but still smiling. “If you call me a monkey one more time.”

“All I said is that your fans shouldn’t go to the zoo if they’ve been to your concerts anyway,” Suguru said, smirking.

Satoru flipped him off as he left Suguru’s office to head home.

His media trained ass was going to have to pull out all the stops for this apology. Yippee , he thought bitterly.

Near the end of this hard, hard work, while editing his apology statement to fit the character requirement for Twitter – Suguru required him to construct the apology in several different mediums, from a tell-all Youtube apology script to a buzzy headline for the publishing company they’d sell the letter – he thought of his canceled performance.

He’d actually been looking forward to it, but that was more so because he missed having an audience. His world tour had ended a few months ago, and he and his ego missed the crowds yelling his name, sold out stadiums full of people begging for him to meet their eyes just even once.

“Who’re they gonna get as cool as me,” he remarked to himself irately, blowing a strand of his silver hair out of his eyes. The competitive feelings that suddenly filled his body fueled him to finish his apology assignment in the nick of time, wrapping up medium after medium. He’d now get there just after his probably-shitty-and-ugly-replacement started their performance.

The sounds of a familiar bouncy bassline fills the halls of Todo’s very excessively decorated penthouse. Animal print shag rugs, tacky gold statues of dogs in suits, and shiny glittering chandeliers, to name a few characteristics that leave Satoru’s more fine tastes wanting more decorum. Courtesy of his upbringing as the heir to an old-money family whose bloodline was as old as Japan itself.

It was his newest single, the one that was topping charts. Except, instead of his deep, raspy voice, rang a sweet, sultry one.

“ You don’t love me / you just steal my clothes / live in my house ‘cause I can’t say no, ” the voice sang, having apparently reached the catchy chorus.

And when he finally reached Todo’s rooftop terrace – where the performance was taking place on a circular neon blue stage with Tokyo’s skyline as a backdrop – he finally saw the voice of the absolute siren singing his song.

You.

“ When we fuck, shit it feels like love / feels like love, and it’s so messed up ,” you said, swaying to the beat with your eyes closed as you sang the song with a softer, more sorrowfilled intonation than Satoru had felt comfortable voicing. Your eyelashes fluttered as you opened your eyes, and it was almost like your gaze and Satoru’s were paired like magnet poles, meeting the second your beautiful lens revealed themselves.

Satoru’s heart stuttered to a stop for one fateful second. And he reeled it back into beating, because never in his life had Satoru ever struggled to breathe when meeting someone new. Especially not a girl who stole his song.

You weren’t expecting your idol to treat you so frostily. The entire night had been a whirlwind of events that felt as if they’d been written straight out of your dreams – compliments upon compliments, someone had even ordered you a bouquet, recording deals with both big and indie studios – except for how Satoru Gojo was looking at you.

And that was if he did! He didn’t even look at you when Yuji – who had loved your performance for his surprise birthday bash – introduced the two of you.

“Great choice,” Satoru had said, staring at a spot above your head. Being so damn tall, he looked down on you, but didn’t even meet your gaze from his ‘honored’ height.

“T-thanks,” you had said, too nervous to say anything more. He was feeling some imperceptible emotion that led him to ignore you for the rest of the conversation that you, Yuji, and he were in; you were basically just a spectator. And Yuji, bless his ignorant bright eyes, didn’t see how talking about last year’s Met gala bathroom antics would leave you – the least famous person in this room – out of the conversation.

It wasn’t till a handsome man with waist length raven hair inserted himself into the conversation that you were acknowledged.

You thankfully held back a starstruck gaze when you met eyes with your teenage crush, Suguru Geto. Of course, you were no longer the girl you had been when the boy band’s bass player with feline eyes had charmed you – mostly because you refused to be like every other girl who favored the leading singer Satoru – but it took real strength to hide that past.

“And who’s this beauty?” Suguru questioned, meeting your eyes with a sparkle in his eyes. You flushed immediately.

To your surprise, Satoru answered with your name, shocking you with the way your name fit on his tongue.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Suguru said. “So you were the siren singing Satoru’s song.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Satoru blurted.

Everyone looked at him. You were the first one to twist your head to meet his crystal blue eyes, their icey wide depths freezing you to your spot. It was an entirely different feeling to meeting Suguru’s warm, dark eyes.

“No, you didn’t,” Yuji said slowly, thick eyebrows furrowing.

“I thought it,” Satoru said, crossing his arms.

You ignored his response, and tried your best to gracefully thank Suguru.

“I was your biggest fan,” you gushed, unable to finish your gratitude without singing a song to your youthful infatuation.

“Were you?” Suguru said. “I guess you’ve come full circle. I’m your biggest fan now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Satoru impatiently tapped his foot.

“Listen,” Suguru said, reaching in behind his blazer, and coming out with a thick, cream colored card. He passed it to you. “Keep it on the low, but I’m starting my own studio. And I want to sign you.”

You gasped. All the blood in your body traveled either to your cheeks or to your head. You were shocked beyond measure.

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Thank you so much,” you said, clasping your hands together while your face uncontrollably contorted into one signaling exceptional gratitude.

“I’ll train her personally,” Satoru suddenly said, just as Suguru’s mouth opened. His manager gave Satoru a look as he made a face, something between confusion and disbelief.

“Just like me!” Yuji said excitedly, before anyone could object.

“Um, are you sure, sir? Are you not, well, busy?” You wished to ask if he even liked you in the first place, for he hadn’t made any indication of enjoying your presence. But this was the more socially acceptable way of asking.

“Not nearly enough to resist instructing the next generation!” He said, in a familiar cheery voice you were used to hearing on talk show interviews and conventions.

Well … You decided to forget about his earlier treatment of you, hoping it was a fluke. After all, this was Satoru Gojo. Biggest star to grace the stage since rock artist Yoshinobu Gakuganji, the worldwide phenomenon of the generation before. You would be a fool to turn down his mentorship.

And so, you shot him your brightest smile. You had high hopes, and you hoped that this was the beginning of the rest of your dream life.

Satoru was blinded by your beauty. He had done his best to resent you, his replacement, the new talent. Especially after he had heard you singing his song better than he could have ever dreamed. But, he knew that the harder he tried to force his hate, instead, the harder something else would grow.

Namely, his cock.

Even though he had promised Suguru no scandals, that the only thing that would be in his mouth today was cake – he couldn’t help but want some other sweet cake to devour. Yours.

He couldn’t help it. Anyone he deemed on his level – usually after some more dramatic reaction, which in this case happened to be an immature resentment towards you that hardly lasted even a few minutes – he wanted to nurture, to own, even.

It of course took Suguru’s entrance and observation for his initial frostiness to dissolve.

“And who’s this beauty?” Suguru asked, reminding Satoru that not only had you sung his song the way it should’ve been recorded all along, you were also gorgeous to boot. All your lines and all your curves drew out a figure he wanted to memorize with his hands. Or maybe his tongue. At least his eyes were lucky enough to try.

So, to his surprise – and apparently yours, too, judging by the way your mouth adorably parted and your eyes widened – he answered with your name. He resisted saying anything more that could – and would – be a giveaway to the new direction his thoughts were going in.

“I’ll train her personally,” Satoru suddenly said later, further surprising himself, and Suguru too, judging by the questionable look his best friend gave him.

“Um, are you sure, sir? Are you not, well, busy?”

Sir? Well, fuck him, then.

“Not nearly enough to resist instructing the next generation!” He said, in his favorite voice to use when charming audiences.

And that’s when you blinded Satoru with a wide smile. Your sweet lips trembled shyly as you met his eyes, and he resisted the urge to lick his lips. He chose to smirk instead, which makes you redirect your gaze to your toes. He made you nervous, huh? What a sweet little thing. How could he have chosen to hate you? You were just what he needed – an innocent, new sparkling talent for him to sharpen and shine. He imagined your rise to stardom, and imagined how everyone would look at his latest, sexiest protegee. How everyone would cheer when he kissed you, when the nation’s favorite man laid his lips on the newest national sweetheart. He didn’t think about the arrangement to come at all. His cock pulsed as blood rushed to his crotch, and he hoped his buttoned blazer hid his staining erection.

“I’ll have Suguru text you the details,” Satoru said flippantly. “I have my own recording studio at home. We can practice there.” Suguru rolled his eyes, but got to work immediately, whipping his work phone out and texting the number you spelled out since you didn’t have a business card of your own. “I’ll see you then.”

The week that sandwiched your first meeting and your next flew by quickly for Satoru; a Vogue photoshoot followed by recording his surprise appearance as a celebrity judge on a cooking show filled the early half of his week, the latter half consisting of chemistry readings for the pilot of a new drama where his role hadn’t been decided yet, so he had to perform multiple different combinations of the scripts.

By the time your bright and bushy tailed excitement greeted him, though, he was tired. And he guessed it was plainly evident.

“Are you alright?” you asked sweetly. “I could get you a coffee if you’re tired?”

“Aww, no, I couldn’t have the new talent fetch me a coffee!” He laughed brightly. “I’m already more awake now that you’re here.”

“You’re such a charmer,” you said, rolling your eyes, and crossing your arms, directing Satoru’s attention to the furrow of skin between your breasts deepening. He sucked on the top row of his teeth, imagining digging them into the soft skin there, leaving bruising bite marks on the silky spheres. “Do you talk to everyone like this?”

“No, just you,” Satoru said, grinning. He flicked your forehead gently. You giggled. Satoru wished they’d already been recording; he’d have loved to have trapped that delicious little sound into a few seconds long audio clip. What a cute lil alarm noise that could’ve been.

“Sure, sure,” you said, turning away from him, though not before Satoru saw the edges of your flushed cheeks. “Where do we start?”

Satoru came close behind you, grabbing the hand most on top of your crossed arms. He pressed his palm to the top of your skin, his heart pounding as he did so. He moved your joined grasp to rest on the center of your chest. He smelled your shampoo scent as he leaned down to talk near your ears. The jut of his plush bottom lip brushed against your ear with every low vowel.

“Breathe,” he instructed. Your chest rose slowly as you sucked in air according to his instructions, and fell with a faster speed as you exhaled. Some of Satoru’s bangs tickled his forehead as your breath rushed out. “Repeat it, but slower exhale. Control it. Then, I want you to hold a note for as long as you can. Whatever one you want.”

You listened, and did so immediately. “What a good girl,” he told you. Your voice wavered, and he wondered if the beat he felt through your hands from your chest was your heart skipping a beat, or your voice straining to stay steady.

“T-thank you, sir,” you said. Satoru wondered if your words were respectful – or teasing. He was hoping too much, he realized, and he stepped away from you, releasing the heavy tension the moment held, lightening the mood in the room immediately.

“You’ve got a clear voice, and strong lungs,” Satoru said, turning away from you as he adjusted his pants without you noticing. “Impressive.”

“Thank you again!”

He laughed, petting your head with soft pats before he realized he was lifting his hand to do so. He rolled with it. “No need to thank me. Call me Gojo-sensei if you respect me that much,” he said, winking.

Now you laughed, another sweet, addictive melody for his ears. Your giggle now had a companion in his mind’s radio. “Okay, Gojo-sensei. What’ve you got to teach me? I’ve had enough of your compliments.”

“Oh, really? Not fond of praise?” Satoru asked, teasing.

You bit your lip. “That’s not what I –” You giggled again, making Satoru grin. “I’m excited to learn, Gojo-sensei.”

Oh, gods be damned. He shouldn’t have asked for it. But he had. Now he had a long list of other things he wanted to beg you for.

He cleared his throat, wishing it would clear his dirty mind too. He had promised to teach you. So he redirected his efforts, and tried his best to redirect his blood to his brain. Worked somewhat, but the tingling desire between his legs as the two of you spent the rest of the day – and well into the night – talking and singing and writing together.

Satoru hadn’t been this happy writing music in so long, and even wrote something he was confident was his best work yet throwing ideas with you. Maybe he needed to spend more time as a solo musician before completely redirecting his talents to acting and instructing. No, he’d done enough to establish himself as a singer. He wanted to expand what he was known for, and solidify even more his reputation as the greatest performer of today.

You were the future. You’ll be a shining star, he thought, one that blinds everyone with your brilliance.

“Thank you,” you said genuinely, turning your head away from him as you packed up for the day. He realized belatedly that he’d accidentally spoken aloud. Gods, he hadn’t complimented someone like that in ages. “That means a lot to me, coming from you.”

“I thought you were Suguru’s biggest fan,” Satoru said, teasing you, squinting his eyes, unable to help himself from reminding you of your words that still had him jealous. He was used to being the favorite. And even if Suguru was his best friend – he wanted to be your favorite.

You sighed. “I … I have a confession.” You put down your now packed bag. You looked back into Satoru’s eyes.

“What?” He leaned forward, hovering closer to your face as the two of you sat next to each other on the couch in his office, having moved there long ago. Oh, he was so curious …

“ You were my favorite,” you blurted. “I just wanted to be – not like other girls.”

Satoru couldn’t help it. First he was shocked. Then, once he realized your logic, he started to laugh. So hard he even brought a few tears to his eyes. You whacked him on his arm.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

But as you went to bring your arms back beside you, Satoru caught your bunched up fingers in his much larger hand. He squeezed your fist. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Satoru Gojo was your favorite. Him, and nobody else. Oh, he was so glad.

Your face burned as Satoru reminded you of your little white lie. That Suguru was your favorite, a lie you’d shared with many others when the topic of their band arose.

That burn didn’t compare to the one spreading across your cheeks and up your neck from your chest as Satoru laughed.

And that burn didn’t compare to the one roaring in your heart as Satoru squeezed the hand you’d used to hit him jokingly.

Neither of those hot feelings compared to the burning fire between your legs when Satoru used the hand he was holding to pull your face close to him. His left leg pressed against your outer thigh, sending another flash of heat to your core even at the slight contact.

His breath ghosted over your lips, and your eyes met. The hungry look in his pale gaze conveyed the message. You’d have to be the one to bite the bullet he’d loaded. And so, heart straining from the combined joy of your past and current Satoru Gojo obsessed self wanting this moment to never end, you kissed him.

Instantly, Satoru transformed. From the first gentle contact of your lips, he was a perfect gentleman for all of three seconds, trapping your bottom lip between his. But once he began sucking, he couldn’t stop devouring you like a man without any decorum. He inhaled you as he kissed you, bringing you close to his body, tangling his arms around your back as he sank into the couch and you fell down with him. You twisted your body to lay more comfortably against his, realizing too late that that would mean unimpeded contact between your cunt and his cock through your clothing.

The two of you gasped at the combined warmth, which made your teeth clink against each other.

“You want me that bad?” you asked, shocked by the sheer size of his wanting. The absolute hardness that pushed against you, almost sending you to a mental institution by how his cockhead just about pressed against the crotch of your jeans to catch your clit temporarily when he shifted. You moaned as if to punctuate your observation.

“Ah,” Satoru breathed, his hands flying to cup the round curves of your hip. Your top had ridden up, and so his palms were touching bare skin. He squeezed, electrifying your sensation of his touch as he pawed at your softness. “I think you want me just as bad, baby.”

He slid his hands up from from hips to your waist to your chest, groping them like they were clay he wanted to mold to the shape of his grasp. He palmed them once more before lifting your shirt and ridding you of it.

Your breasts wobbled when they were subsequently freed from the confines of your bra, and you watched Satoru lick his lips hungrily.

“But don’t worry, baby,” Satoru said silkily. “I’ll take real good care of you.” He kissed you sweetly to prove his point.

Then immediately dirtied his mouth when he took a mouthful of tits to his teeth, biting down gentle enough to not hurt but hard enough to make you moan. You stretched your neck out, throwing your head back.

“You made me so hard,” Satoru said, breathing heavily as he removed his mouth from your right breast, a string of spit connecting the two. It popped when he got far enough. “How do you plan on fixing that, hmm?”

You whimpered when he reached his hand down to feel your cunt through your jeans. Your clit pulsed, and you knew Satoru could feel it like a heartbeat. He wasted no time in ridding you of your pants, and you lifted your hips to help with the removal of your panties right after.

“Oh, ‘Toru!” you cried out. Satoru had immediately started to explore your secret spot, parting your folds and using his fingers to collect some of your slick. He sucked it off his hands, and you got wetter, something you thought was impossible judging by the shine you had seen gathered on his thick fingers.

You trembled with desire. “Satoru. I want it. Please!” You found yourself begging.

“I’m not quite sure what you want, sweet,” Satoru said in a sing-song voice.

Whatever restraint might’ve been keeping your mouth clean snapped. “Please, give it to me now. I want your cock inside me, now. Please!” You were near sobbing, especially as Satoru continued to play with your cunt by pressing against your clit in a rhythmic manner.

“Bad girls don’t get to tell me where my cock goes,” Satoru scolded, slapping your bare pussy. You let out a wild cry.

“Satoru, please,” you whined, pressing yourself into him even more. He flipped the two of you to create some space between your crotch and his. He threw your bare legs over his shoulders after ridding himself of his pants. He didn’t even return his fingers to your cunt, which made you sick with nostalgia for the mere seconds earlier when he was playing with you so deliciously.

“Oh, darling, I know you want it. And you should know, I really want to just put it in right now – god, I do – but you have to wait…”

You closed your eyes, tilting your head back against the cushions.

“Aren’t you going to ask why you’re a bad girl?”

“Why am I one?” you asked, giving in, opening your eyes. You saw Satoru’s bright, mischievous gaze, sparkling with delight as you responded just the way he wanted.

“ Sir.”

“Why am I a bad girl,” you said, gulping, “ sir – Satoru?”

“Aww, because you didn’t ask me what I want,” he said, cooing.

You pleaded to him, begging to know what he might want to do with you. Anything would do – the burning between your legs was an uncontrollable wildfire, and there was only Satoru who could put it out.

“I want the same thing, silly,” Satoru said, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck. “Was just’ teasin’ you, yeah.” You shivered as his silver strands tickled the sensitive skin there. You yelped when he nipped at a spot there, before immediately cooling it down with his tongue tracing over it, leaving the tingling spot cool and wet.

But there were other wet tingling spots for Satoru to pay attention to.

He began fingering you in earnest, the motions of his fingers making squelching noises fill the room of his office. How lewd! You almost had forgotten where he was making you this weak. But who needs the bedroom?

“You’re so sexy,” Satoru murmured, crooking his fingers just so. “Makes me want to ruin you.”

“Ahh, Satoru!” you screamed. “Please, please, do whatever you want. I just wanna – ugh!” You were babbling nonsense as something built inside of you, like blocks laid atop each other to form a steep tower.

“So sexy, screaming for me. Trembling for me like this,” he said, using his other hand to press against your bare stomach to feel your body shaking from the overwhelming feeling of it all.

Something was building inside of you, yes. And it was about to topple and break in just a bit, judging by just how hard your legs were shaking atop his shoulders, the skin of your thighs sticking and unsticking against Satoru’s sweaty chest.

“Look so pretty coming apart on my fingers,” Satoru cooed, looking down at you with hazy, lidded eyes. His bright blue eyes were darker than usual by the dilation of his pupils, and honestly, the absolute adoration in his genuine gaze – of course, combined with his fingers – sent you over the edge.

You couldn’t even say a word as the strongest orgasm you’d ever felt knocked the wind out of you. You shook and you shook and you shook with waves of pleasure. It was pure euphoria.

If that was just from his fingers, then …

Satoru seemed to have the same question. “What’re you gonna do when it’s my cock instead, pretty baby?”

Like a broken record, you couldn’t help but beg again once you regained your breath control and the shaking had subsided.

“I’m gonna kiss you real hard,” you said, looking at his bitten red lips, shining with your combined saliva. Oh, god. It was hitting you, really, that you had done that. You were the one kissing Satoru Gojo. You were the one finger fucked by Satoru Gojo. And now –

Satoru took off his jeans, then his boxers. Whatever train of thought you had crashed and burned as you dropped your jaw. Of course the most beautiful man in the world would have an equally beautiful cock, thick and arched, precum coating the pink tip like frosting begging you to take a lick.

“So,” Satoru said, his voice getting a little more serious. “You still want this? If you say no, we can pretend this never –”

You arched up to kiss him square on the mouth. Hell to the no – why would you deny yourself heaven? Parting, chest heaving, you trailed a finger down his muscled abdomen and then down his pale happy trail, stopping right as your finger approached his fat tip.

“Fuck me, Satoru,” you said, earnestly.

Satoru kissed you gently before aligning himself with your vagina. He slotted it at your folds, and then just like that, his tip was slightly inside you, easily gliding in with how wet you were. He shook a little, and inhaled in a deep breath. Every little movement of his hips, no matter how intentional it might’ve been, rubbed at your skin down there. You can tell Satoru was doing his best to hold back, doing his best to stop from savagely thrusting into you and splitting you open with his monster of a cock.

But you want him to. You couldn’t take it anymore. You tilted your hips, and again, because of just how wet you were, he slid in halfway quite easily. He whispered your name, his voice breaking roughly at the end.

You stared up at the expression of ecstasy on Satoru’s face. His eyelids drooped. His shiny spit slick mouth parted.

“You’re inside me,” you said slowly, bringing your hand to cover your face. Satoru moved it away, and instead kissed you, the movement pushing his thickness further into you. You groaned as your walls strained to accommodate him. “Fucking me.”

“N-not yet,” Satoru said, voice hoarse. He pushed all the way into your tightness. You screamed, he groaned. “And not even now.”

“It’s enough, it’s enough,” you said, eyes starting to water. “I’m going crazy.”

“Oh,” Satoru breathed, when you clenched tight around him. “I’m makin’ you crazier. Now.” He lifted himself out of you, and thrust back into you with a thwop.

Slowly, after that first thrust, his actions became faster and smoother. Satoru showed you no patience, no gentleness, no matter how much he had wanted to and had been planning on it. He fucked you roughly, like you were two animals rutting. You called out his name again and again, no plans of stopping even as your voice grew rough with use.

Just as you were about to cum – your walls were fluttering around Satoru as if to signal – Satoru pulled out of you and came on your stomach, flinching as warm stickiness pooled and dribbled down your waist.

That was the first time you fucked Satoru Gojo. And that was not the last.

Moving forward, the two of you were insatiable. The weeks leading up to your album release party was filled with debauchery.

You blew Satoru in the recording studio Suguru rented to record the tracks; Satoru was supposed to supervise. But of course he’d rather cum on your chest. So, supervising soon turned into lewd moans and sticky thrusts that the impressive sound system captured. Satoru was careful to delete the footage – and of course, who would know he’d saved a singular copy on a flash drive just for him to listen to – just you, and you didn’t mind.

And even after the album release party – at the after party held in the most packed club in Tokyo – the two of you couldn’t hold back. When everyone had gone to the dance floor, and just you and Satoru remained in the closed off lounge area, he pulled you into his lap and slid his cock into you, crumpling your short mini skirt to your hips and pushing aside your thin thong. Being aware anyone could come back any second, Satoru fucked you while he covered your intimate connection with his leather jacket draped over your thighs and dragging on your sweaty skin. When the two of you heard voices coming closer, once even hearing Suguru’s drunk laughter come too close for comfort, the two of you stilled under the jacket. Even in that moment of cessation, you could still feel Satoru’s cock inside you, so hot and pulsing. Satoru’s gasping breath was a treat for your hearing, and his swirling hips underneath you were a treat for your cunt. Thankfully, when Satoru and you came, the music in the club was loud as it had been since the start of the night, even louder if possible at the peak of the night, and so the two of you could groan in earnest. Plus, when the two of you got home that night, there was no stopping Satoru from taking you in every which way he desired. It was crazy how no matter what you two did, he was never tired of you. Never!

Until one random day, a Tuesday you didn’t think was anything remarkable except for the fact that Satoru hadn’t wished you a good morning like he usually did. You were walking down a busy street in Shibuya, in dark clothes, with a mask and sunglasses hiding your face now that you were an up-coming celebrity. Then you overheard the gossip that would irreversibly change the course of your life.

Did you hear? Satoru Gojo is going to be marrying a descendant of the royal Japanese family, Princess Utahime Iori. What a fairytale!

You stopped in your tracks.

Like a crazy person, you reached for the person who said that, frantically grabbing onto their shoulder. Believably freaked out, they flinched away.

“S-sorry. I’m just, so, so shocked by what I accidentally overheard,” you said, trying to appear normal. “What did you say?”

“Oh,” said the stranger girl, feeling more amicable now that you’d explained yourself. “You know that famous singer-actor-everything? Satoru Gojo? He’s getting married to royalty! I mean, he basically is, too–”

“Is this for real?” You weren’t sure if this was as false as the rumor that Satoru had a foot fetish. He had a variety of kinks, but not that one.

“Uh-huh!” said the girl’s other friend. “They just did a press release! Satoru’s quitting the performing industry to be a family man, and Suguru’s officially opening his own studio! They even signed that new singer that’s blowing up right now,” she said. Hearing your name didn’t shock you, compared to how this news felt like. Like a bucket of ice water, like a brick to the face, like something violently wrenching you out of your head and straight to reality.

“Thanks for telling me,” you said, gulping back tears. You turned away from them, and immediately hailed a cab. At first, you intended to go home and cry your heart out. But quickly, you knew that you had to talk to Satoru first.

The entire drive, you sat tensely, your stomach in knots. What could Satoru possibly say? There was a fucking press release, apparently. What explanation was there? You hoped he had one. You weren’t sure you would react rationally otherwise.

The knot in your stomach tightened further when you saw how many cars were parked around Satoru’s place. Getting in without attracting attention would be difficult, but thankfully, you guys had been fooling around enough for you to know exactly how to do so.

Before you knew it, you were in Satoru’s bedroom (sans the mask and sunglasses, which you’d put away in your purse). Sitting in the dark, like, again, a crazy person. This man was making you go crazy! You called him, and when you went to voicemail, you sent him a text asking him to come up to his room, praying that he’d see it. Anymore stress and you’d start sprouting gray hairs.

His door creaked open, and the lights came on in a flash.

“Woah!” Satoru said, jumping back. He quickly entered the room again, closing the door shut behind him. “When’d you get here?”

“I texted you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “What’s going on?”

Satoru looked at you with an indecipherable expression. He loudly sucked on the top row of his teeth. Then, he spoke. “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.”

“I didn’t ask what’s wrong, I asked, what’s going on,” you said, crossing your arms. “I heard something about a press release.” Your tone was flat.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, giving you a tight smile. “So you heard.”

You didn’t say anything. You wanted him to do the talking.

“It’s no big deal, really,” Satoru said. “It’s an arranged marriage, so we can keep seeing each other–”

“Wait,” you said, flabbergasted. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Why wouldn’t I be? We – hold on. You cryin’?”

You didn’t realize that tears had pooled in your eyes and were now streaming down your face.

“Sweetheart,” Satoru said, in a voice entirely unfamiliar to you. Everything about the man in front of you now was unfamiliar to you, actually. “We were never official. So, I don’t understand –” You slapped him across his face, as hard as you could. Before you knew it, you were punching his chest while you crumbled into sobs, not even speaking a real language besides wails and cries. Surprisingly, he let you hurt him.

Eventually, though, you stopped. You were utterly deflated. You felt like a fool. But you had to know, right? That it was going to end this way. Suddenly, your mind flashed back to the innocent days of being a fan and seeing headlines in gossip magazines – and the occasional think piece – about all the notches on Satoru’s belt.

“You’re right,” you said, flashing him the same tight smile he’d given you earlier. You closed your eyes, purposefully missing his reaction. No matter what he had done, you still didn’t want to see him hurt – or worse, not hurt at all. “We were never official. So let’s end whatever this is.” You took a deep breath, and once you felt steady in your stance, you opened your eyes.

Again, that indecipherable expression.

But, when he spoke, you quickly realized what it might signify.

“Alright. If that’s what you want. I’ll see you at the wedding, then,” he said.

It signified this: he didn’t care. At all. This meant nothing to him, compared to what it meant to you.

Your heart crumbled as much as you had earlier.

All along, he didn’t care…

“Goodbye, Satoru. I’ll see you around. Let me know what you want for your wedding present.” You wouldn’t be a crazy person any longer. You pulled your sunglasses and mask out of your bag, and walked out of Satoru’s room. And, effectively, Satoru’s life.

In the cab ride home, you had one thought and one thought only: I wish we’d never met. What a grand, impossible wish. Almost as impossible as having had this relationship with your celebrity crush, you reminded yourself. This was fated to never be. You should start to accept it, and focus on your career.

Afterall, you thought, strengthening your resolve. What better way to show Satoru that you didn’t care – than to flourish without him in your life. Suddenly, you remembered your original dream. Stage lights and sold out shows. Not a silver-haired blue-eyed cocky motherfucker who knew just how your body ticked.

You wish you’d never met him, but it was better that you had. Because now you could show him – no, scratch that – show the world just how committed to your dreams you were. Just as Satoru had said oh-so-long-ago, you were the future . Satoru was old news.

Just like he’d said, huh.

You’d be a shining star, one that blinds everyone with your brilliance.

For your sake, you had to be.

i hope you enjoyed! this is also on ao3. and i have a hella long author's note on there. lol. header is from kukkoro knight (manga). xoxo penelope

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the-hole-in-terzos-shoe · 1 year ago

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Let's Get These Heels Off...

Burlesque!Terzo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, MDNI!, Lingerie, basically smut with a little tiny bit of plot 🤷‍♀️

Word count: 3.4k

ANYWAY, I'M BACK HI HELLO!!!!! I really did not mean to take a hiatus, but I am in grad school and that just needed my attention these past weeks. I have been writing the whole time, this just happens to be the first thing to get finished!

But! I am sooooo excited about this! @angellayercake and I have been squealing and giggling and losing our minds over burlesque Terzo for months now and she requested this special 🥰 it was an honor to write this for you, my dearest Cake, and I hope you love it as much as I love Pastimes for a Retired Papa and Banchetto!!! Enjoy 😘

Photo credit to @theshamelessghoul @vitadevoid on Instagram 🩷 please go follow both of her accounts, she's an absolutely beautiful artist.

After stalking his Instagram page every night for a week, you knew you had to see him perform in person. Not to mention that Vegas isn't too far a drive from your place. You 𝘩𝘢𝘥 to see him, you just had to.

And that's how you found yourself at the door of this club, paying the high cover charge. The venue was well worth it though, beautiful dark decor, mirrors and dim lighting making the place feel large, but intimate. You'd made it a point to dress appropriately, wanting to look fine and feel your best, but not outshine the performers. So you went with a tight black leather dress that displays your bust nicely, black lace long sleeve crop top layered over, and of course black stiletto heels to match.

Glad you came by yourself to fulfill this silly little fantasy, you take a seat in a quaint cushioned arm chair, noticing the array of vintage mismatched furniture, and order a drink. There was already a set going on, dancers gracefully moving across the stage, with the lighting offering glimpses of the room while keeping most of the viewers concealed in the shadows. You were grateful for that.

You'd never been to a place like this before and you just wanted to view the art from a distance.

Just in time too, as the one you'd been longing for took the stage, his presence larger than life, seemingly squeezing all the air from the room... And he hadn't even shown any skin yet.

His gig was definitely out of the ordinary, but there was something so alluring about watching this Anti-Pope, Papa Emeritus the Third, sashay across the stage. His dance style is slow and sensual, teasingly revealing a fishnet clad leg here or a lace covered hip there as he slowly works his way out of his papal vestments.

He certainly has the bedroom eyes down to a science as you find yourself unable to look away. Another thing that's hard to look away from is that beautifully plump ass, showcased so artfully with leather straps cupping his cheeks.

The Anti-Pope was well practiced at making his way across the floor, legs spread sinfully and hands groping various body parts. Lastly, he unhooks his corset to reveal tassels on his nipples, and he wasn't left in much more than those and a pair of panties. A few more twirls around the stage and the last few notes of the song ring out, while the lights go totally dark, leaving it pitch black in the room. The click of his heels returning backstage are the only sound until the lights slowly come back up.

Hell, he really knew how to leave a crowd wanting more. Or maybe it was just you--either way, you were happy to have seen him perform in person. It had been worth the drive and every penny.

You were pleasantly surprised to find him in the kickline of a few other performances that night, for the performers that needed back up dancers. Although you did think it was unfair for the boss to put him in the back like that, because he always stole the stage from whoever was supposed to be leading.

After the night had simmered down, a few of the dancers creeped out into the audience, mingling with the crowd to keep them happy and earn the waiters some higher tips. There were still a few performances happening, but they hardly held your attention as you felt a shift in the vibe. Papa had come out from backstage and was taking his time greeting the guests, many of them wanting to kiss his hands or cheeks.

He's so charismatic that people are drawn to him like a magnet. You feel the pull too, but you're perfectly content to watch from afar... It's not like he would know you anyway.

That is, until it seems like he's coming your way. Is he? No. Surely he's looking for someone behind you.

Tensing your fingers around the arms of the chair, you try to straighten up as best you can as he saunters right over, leaning forward and placing his hands on top of yours, effectively pinning you to the spot. His nose is only inches from yours as he looks you over, "Didn't your Mama teach you it's impolite to stare?"

"D-don't mind me... I'm just enjoying the view, um, Papa." You knew you didn't stand a chance of sounding confident in front of him, so you just did your best not to fumble your words.

He smirks, letting you know he enjoys the flattery, "Please, tesoro, call me Terzo. Papa is simply my stage name." He winks and offers his hand up to your lips.

Carefully, you take his hand in yours, appreciating his short black nails, before softly placing a kiss to his knuckles. "Terzo," you whisper, mostly to yourself.

While his hand is still in yours, he snakes his hand around your wrist before bringing it to his lips. "And you? Who are you this evening, dolce mia?"

"Just a starstruck fan," you supply before giving your name.

Still kissing his way up your arm, he tries your name on his tongue before nipping at your earlobe, earning a heavy breath from you.

"Would you like to take this somewhere a bit more private, bella?"

You stutter, "I-I didn't... I didn't think that was allowed here."

"Sì, sì, you are right, 'no stripping here on The Strip', eh?" he chuckles. He stands up and stares you down, looking you directly in the eyes, "I guess I'll be getting off all by myself tonight then." He fakes a pout before flashing a playful look at you.

Suddenly he's walking away, as if he'd forgotten about you all together.

"Hey, wait!"

He keeps walking, heading up the spiral staircase behind the stage. You hesitate momentarily before chasing him up the stairs. You had come all this way; why not take the fantasy as far as he would let you?

Upstairs, he sits at his vanity, illuminated beautifully by the soft light. Yet again, you stare as he fixes up his makeup. When he sees you behind him, he makes a comment about you being in his mirror.

But then he stands up and you're drawn to one another. He turns and within a second, his hands are on your jaw and yours on his waist, making out.

At some point, you were spun around and the next thing you know, you're being backed into another vanity, stumbling into it as lip glosses and tubes of mascara roll onto the floor. Grabbing roughly at your ass, Terzo lifts you onto the vanity, mouth never leaving yours. In fact, he uses it as leverage to gain access to your tongue.

Your fingers tremble in an attempt to untie the silk robe he'd covered his lingerie with, while he's working your black lace top off. As it drifts slowly to the floor, you start to hear a rumbling noise across the room.

Terzo pulls away from you, and before you can ask what the noise is, he's pulling you off the vanity. "Come with me, cara mia," he whispers, dragging you behind one of the various curtains back stage. Suddenly the room fills with chatter, and you realize the noise had been many, many sets of high heels coming up the stairs. The night must be over downstairs and the club getting ready to close.

Wrapped in a shroud of darkness behind the heavy velvet curtain, you feel Terzo's hands return to your waist and his lips at your ear, "Quiet, dolcezza, we wouldn't want to get caught, would we?"

"No," you reply, trying not to giggle. His mouth is curled into a big smile as it makes contact with your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along your exposed skin. Silently you let out a shaky breath, fighting off a whimper.

"Ugh! Whose shirt is this?! They knocked over all my shit!" one of the dancers yells, receiving a low chuckle from Terzo.

Hands sliding up his body, you finally slip that robe from his shoulders, exposing more skin, but your hands are much more interested in diving into that luscious black hair, which draws another low noise from the man. "Shhhh," you breathe out.

His hot mouth is now lapping at your cleavage, until his thumb finds the scandalously placed zipper on the front of your tight leather dress. Inching the pull tab down, his nose dips down to the space between your breasts where he places a soft kiss.

Gently you hold him against you, one hand tangled in his hair, the other on his cheek. Undoubtedly, you have his face paint all over you, but Terzo is simply alluring in everything that he does. From the way he performs on stage, grasping everyone's attention in the palm of his hand to the dangerous way he romances you, kissing you like he loves you... you know you'll never get enough.

Finally, the dressing room starts to quiet down. Girls chatter about where they're going to grab dinner or who's going home with who. And eventually, you're left alone with your lover for the night.

Peaking his head out from behind the curtain, Terzo nods that the coast is clear, taking your hand and smirking, "Per favore, bella mia, follow me. I know the perfect place to have my way with you."

Cocky in an endearing way, that's how you'd describe him. A stranger who somehow knows exactly what you need... It's maddening, but comforting.

However, upon reaching some kind of office door, you are given some pause, "Hey, woah, where are we going?"

"Just through here, amore," he tugs your hand.

"I mean, is that someone's office? Are we supposed to be in here?" You question him, but the idea of getting caught has certainly done something to you.

"Sì, the owner's. Won't it be fun, dolce?"

Looking between his hand still holding yours and his playful duochromatic eyes, you can't deny him. "Yes," you grin, biting your lip as he pulls you through the doorway, nearly slamming it behind you.

Despite him not being the largest man, he has full control of your body, making quick work of shoving everything off the desk and laying you back on it. "Bellissima, cara mia, your beauty is unmatched," he mumbles, admiring your disheveled form spread out before him.

You huff, "Please... Have you seen yourself?" It was true. He looks like pure debauchery in that moment, leaning over you in nothing but heels, fishnets, and a black lace thong.

He smiles in a way that almost looks shy, "Sì, but tonight is all about you, no?" He leans over you on the desk, placing a kiss to your jaw.

"Who said that?" you sigh at his contact.

"You did, signora, with your actions," his lips start their decent down your body, again on your cleavage, your sternum, your belly, as he slowly unzips your dress and continues his explanation, "you drive all the way out here, from wherever you come from; you dress up; you spend your evening with us... I have never seen you before."

By now he's made his way to the waistband of your panties, kissing the skin just above the lace.

"Oh, and you know everyone who comes in here?" you chuckle and your hand comes up to massage his scalp.

"Mmm, sì, amore," he slides the zipper down to where it ends at your knees, allowing the dress to fall open, and he lifts one of your legs off the desk to nip at your inner thigh, "and if I do not know someone... I make it a point to introduce myself." His devious eyes flicker up to yours.

"So you do this with everyone you meet?" you sit up and raise your eyebrows, shaking the dress straps from your shoulders.

"Are you implying something about me, tesoro? Besides..." He ducks his head down, rubbing his nose perfectly across your clit, "It's not lady-like to kiss and tell."

Feeling his hot breath even through your underwear, you're met with those smoldering bedroom eyes he had on stage. When you let out an involuntary whimper, you have to stop yourself from urging his face towards your core.

Like a mind-reader though, he's pulling off your panties, "You must've been wet from the moment you saw me on stage." He grins proudly, but before you can chide him, Terzo's mouth is already on you, instead stealing the air from your lungs as his tongue circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Ah! Oh, Terzo..." you gasp as your fingers curl in his soft hair. If your eyes hadn't been screwed shut in pleasure, you would've seen the enjoyment written on your lover's face as he works his magic.

His hands grip your thighs roughly, pulling you to the edge of the desk to be able to dip his tongue between your folds, teasing your entrance. Your needy whines egg him on as he fucks you with his tongue, that perfect nose smashed up against your oh-so-sensitive clit. It's so overwhelming you actually try to push his face away, but Terzo digs his heels in, holding you firmly in place. Surely you'll have bruises where his fingertips clutch at your skin.

In an embarrassing amount of time, that familiar tension builds in your abdomen. Looking down at the man through your lashes, you feel an urge to beg for permission, but your mouth is unable to form the words. He senses it though, and gives you a gentle nod without disrupting his ministrations. Thighs squeezing against his ears and a high heel digging into his back, you cum for him, convulsing as he carries you through it.

Carefully, he stands up between your legs, allowing you to lean on him with your arms wrapped around his neck as you both catch your breath. Propping your chin up on his chest, you look up at Terzo. His face paint is totally wrecked, but you like seeing what's beneath it as well.

"Bene?" He whispers softly, "Was it good for you?"

"Yes," you let out a breathy laugh at the absurdity of that question. Eyes trailing down, you notice his painfully hard cock barely concealed by his thong. Looking up at him, you slowly reach for it, and you're met with a pleased hum when you palm at the head.

His lips find yours once again as he gently bucks into your hand, feeling just as needy for you as you'd been for him. "Per favore..." he rasps, "please."

"Please, what, baby?" you ask him.

"Fottimi," he says it so quietly you hardly hear him.

"Hm?" you look up, cupping his chin in your fingers, other hand still working his throbbing desire.

Squeezing his eyes closed, a beautiful blush blooms across his cheeks, "Fuck me. Please, fuck me..."

Seeing this once-confident performer enter such a space, you feel even more of a need to please him; it lights a fire like you hadn't experienced before. "Why don't you go lay on the couch for me then, hm?"

It's not lost on you how earlier you'd been worried to even come in the office, and now you're telling your lover to use the furniture.

He nods and takes a couple steps across the small room, heels clicking on the old hardwood floor. Pausing in front of the small piece of furniture like he has to think about it, he slowly bends at the hips, placing his hands on the soft cushion first, then following with his knees.

You follow him over, unable to resist his plump backside. Palming and squeezing at it, you chide him, "Putting your cute little ass on display for me? Just like you did on stage," you trail off. 𝘛𝘩𝘸𝘢𝘱! You earn an involuntary moan from Terzo as you spank him. He turns to look over his shoulder at you, where you then lean down and press a soft kiss to the hand mark you left on him, "I think I asked you to lay down."

He gives you that devilish grin before flopping back on the sofa, stretching and arching his back, feigning innocence.

Something about him acting this way emboldens you, so settling between his spread legs, you reach down and harshly tear open the front of his fishnet stockings, "If you want to act like a little whore, then I'm going to treat you like one!"

He reaches down to grab your wrist, placing it on his crotch and rutting against your hand again, "Sì, amore, please..."

Snatching your wrist away, you swat your fingers at his erection, making him jerk in a way that you're pretty sure means he liked it. "You're lucky you're so goddamn pretty."

"Hmm," he grins again, "Or what?"

"Or..." Roughly, you grab the waistband of his offending little panties and rip them down enough to expose him, the pretty pink tip dripping with precum. Taking his length in your hand, you stroke up and down, before continuing, "Or I wouldn't touch you like this..."

He whines at the way you handle him; he's so perfect, you know you can't resist him any longer.

Moving to straddle his hips, you grind your sex on his. This allows you to lean down and kiss him again, which he pulls you into hungrily. When you break away, you gaze into those lust blown mismatched eyes, "Or I wouldn't fuck you."

It's your turn to grin as you line him up with your entrance, and he becomes a writhing mess beneath you. Seconds later, however, the room is filled with gasps, sighs, moans as you finally become one.

With Terzo fully seated inside, you waste no time working your hips, easing you both into the motions of lovemaking. And what a picture you are: a tangle of limbs, lingerie, and stilettos.

His needy hands reach out to squeeze at your breasts, urging your bra straps off of your shoulders. Finally, you reach behind to unclasp the article of clothing and discard it. In an instant, your lover's hands return, cupping, massaging, and teasing your chest. The way his fingers roll your nipples already has them budding, but his mouth closing around one of them really does the trick.

With one hand cradling the back of his head and the other on his shoulder for support, you ride him at an energetic pace, gasping each time his teeth nibble at your sensitive skin.

"That's it..." he starts to whisper between love bites, "sì, principessa, oh, pl- per favore, take your pleasure from me."

Kissing the top of his head, you sigh into his ear, "Touch me... Touch me, please, Terzo!"

"Sì, signora," he obliges, his middle finger finding your clit easily, "Sei bella, così bella. Veini per me, cum on me, tesoro."

"I'm gonna..." You bite your lip, "Ahh, cum with me, baby."

Your second orgasm hits you like a wave, and it has you seeing stars. Feeling you clench around his cock, Terzo, blissed out, bites down on your collarbone as he follows you over the edge, spilling into your perfect velvety walls. Pain mixed with pleasure somehow heightens the sensation futher for you; it's nothing short of a miracle you were able to ride you both through your climaxes.

Terzo collapses straight back and you right on top of him, exhausted. His arms come up to wrap around you, gently tracing shapes into your back. When you give a tired groan, he offers, "Dai, we should get you upstairs, you stay the night with me."

"Upstairs? You live here?" you mumble into the crook of his neck.

"Sì, ragazza stupida," he chuckles, "I own this place."

"Hey!" you sit up and see him pointing at something... the name plate from the desk, thrown across the floor reading 'Terzo Emeritus.' Glaring back down at him, you argue, "Well, I'm not stupid, or whatever you said."

He smiles up at you, softly. "It means 'silly,' amore mio."

"Oh... Well still..." you lower your voice to a near whisper, "I would like to spend the night with you."

He reaches up to stroke your cheek, "Okie dokie, then. Let's get these heels off."

#ahhhhh i hope you love it ❤️#i have missed being able to post for everyone #but it's summer now so yay!!!#the band ghost #ghost band #papa emeritus iii #papa iii #terzo #papa 3 #papa emeritus 3 #papa terzo #ghost fanfiction #x reader #fem reader #burlesque #au #alternate universe #reader insert #thank you for the ask ❤️

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magicalyaku · 10 months ago

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Hello and welcome to my 2023 reading wrap up! A big Thank You to everyone who followed my ramblings throughout the year! <3 I will continue through 2024. Maybe I'll learn how to write proper reviews, at least I'll try to remember better what I actually want to say about the stories. In 2022, I read 93 books plus my own. Guess how many it were in 2023? 93 plus my own!! xD That was huge coincidence and I love it. Of these 94 books, 4 are rereads (which won't be included in the "Favourite" sections), 2 are non-fiction, 11 are non-queer. I only DNFed 1 book (which is not pictured) and other than that I only disliked 6 books! (And it's a pretty soft dislike in comparison. I don't hate them nearly enough to want to shit on them again. :'D).

So on the the awards!

Most Read Author: KJ Charles (8 books)

Least Favourite Book: Daresh (Katja Brandis) (the one I could not finish for dear life)

Favourite Character: Brand (The Tarot Sequence) and Will (The Will Darling Adventures) (yes, there's a trend)

Favourite Covers (of books I read, not releases):

(There were too many. D:)

Highest Emotional Investment (aka The Agony, the suffering, the why you do this to me Award): Dark Heir - The Scottish Boy - In Memoriam

Wildest Story: The Adventures of Pinocchio

Favourite Books:

The Devil's Luck (L.S. Baird)

The Scottish Boy (Alex de Campi)

In Memoriam (Alice Winn)

Just Lizzie (Karen Wilfried)

Dark Heir (C.S. Pacat)

The Will Darling Adventures (KJ Charles)

Gwen & Art are not in Love (Lex Croucher)

The Buried and the Bound (Rochelle Hassan)

More Books I enjoyed greatly:

Oracle of Senders series (Mere Joyce)

Of Feathers and Thorns (Kit Vincent)

Wren Martin Ruins it all (Amanda deWitt)

Simon Snow series (Rainbow Rowell)

The Five Stages of Andrew Brawley (Shaun David Hutchinson)

The Tarot Sequence (K.D. Edwards)

The First and Last Adventure of Kit Sawyer (S.E. Harmon)

Sixteen Souls (Rosie Talbot)

By any Other Name (Erin Cotter)

The High King's Golden Tongue (Megan Derr) and more!!

Most Used Name: I counted names last year and didn't want to do it again this year because I read so much fantasy, so the names were all over. Still, there was one who stood out amongst them all with at least 4 instances, if not more. Probably more.

Will

Congratulations. I have to admit, I've always liked that name. My favourite character of all times and part of my one and only OTP is named Will as well and I kinda hope the last book of their second trilogy never comes because it will probably make me scream and ... ...

Bonus! This year, I counted pages! Because I felt that most books were much shorter than what I read before. So I wanted to know. Turns out, my feeling was wrong. My 93 books had a whole of 33011 pages which results in approximately 350 pages per book. That's pretty normal I dare say.

That's it for 2023! I had a very good year in books. I wanted to read less actually, and failed spectacularly because I had too much fun. And if anyone's wondering how I read so much, I read fast and I just didn't do anything else in my free time. Escapism to the max. I hope, the new year treats you well! I hope, you have fun with the books you read! Let's meet again soon! <3

#yaku reads #best of #2023 #books #favorite books #bookblr #book recs #queer books #lgbtq books #queer lit #the tarot sequence #the will darling adventures #in memoriam #the scottish boy #dark heir #gwen and art are not in love #the buried and the bound #the devil's luck

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griffinisgae · 3 months ago

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Hello! I am here to tell you I am obsessed with My Thesis is a Demigod. Thank you so much for giving us fun fluffy but also feelsy AU food with these goobers!!! (with bonus Shadowheart and Lae fyeah)

I was wondering if you had any other fic plans you maybe wanted to share or tease (yes I am FISHING) or if you had any recs you wanted to shout out that would be super cool aswell! But thank you in any case and keep on truckin!

Oh my god! you're so kind and I'm so glad you're enjoying! :D this made my evening hehe

i am not sure what to "tease" per se, but I have so many ideas I want to write! (I will soon have more time to get them out hehe) and also ton of AUs I have been pondering (fallout, cyberpunk, high fantasy, you name it, I love to daydream all of em), also a couple of which are inspired by super cool art from @demytrixi!

This ask is my dream come true because I also get to spew some of the fics I've been re-reading on the regular (these are by no means all my faves, I have so many faves! these ones were just to hand :D)

Keepers of old, keep us from cold - smutty, and so good with a nice amount of fluff and feels!

Ardent Devotion - because i adore the concept of Isobel being one wine glass deep into her confession to Aylin, and Aylin being an oblivious goof that was scared to impose her feelings onto her

dying to be born again - because I love autopsy scars isobel. also honestly anything else by redledgers! shower them with love here: @buckysleftarm

Moon-chosen, Moon-guided - recently finished!! aylin/isobel goodness including dealing with trauma, fluff, and much wonderful stuff. amazing read. also anything by theblindbandit! shower them with love here: @oathkeeper-of-tarth

Smitten by Moonlight - i am eating this up every Friday when the author usually uploads! ongoing pre-canon cuties

A Taste of Heaven (In a Confessional Booth) - ... no comment but I didn't think church smut was what I needed (it is)

anyone who sees this feel free to add more to the list, there are so many fics worthy of recognition!

#thanks anon #there are SO many other recs i want to include maybe one day i'll write essays about all of them #i've included just aylin x isobel for now #fic recs

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blysse-and-blunder · 3 months ago

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in lieu of a labor day long weekend

11pm, sunday, september 1, 2024

couldn't remember if i've done 'in lieu of a long weekend' before, so i specified. raise your hand if you're spending the day off doing more work than ever, because you're a grad student and/or poor planner!

reading

francis spufford's cahokia jazz (2024) absolutely entranced me this week. i couldn't put it down, stayed up all night (literally) to get through the big confrontation and then stayed up to make sure i knew how things shook out afterwards. i have found two book reviews which seem to agree that there's a lot to 'work through' here, pull-quote below, but this was not my experience-- i was thoroughly hooked by the (to me) subtle and eloquent clues about how this timeline was different from our own, and fascinated by the city politics, religion, infrastructure-- if anything, the focus on public transit struck me more than the exposition! shoutout to the streetcars!--but most importantly, maybe, spufford knew how to write his protagonist's relationship to music, and incorporate joe's jazz into his pov in a beautiful way, a real way. i'm fucking mourning the what-could-have-been of cahokia, of indigenous america, of. god. that vision of a different form of modernity-- not less complicated, not less industrialized, with all its own moral ambiguities and darkness...but nevertheless a living society.

from the new york times' review, ivy pochoda:

Reader, let me ask you a question. How much work are you willing to do to dive into a new novel? Do you want to step into a speculative world frustratingly close to our own? Do you want to spend time in an imaginary city constructed with the world-building minutiae of a high fantasy novel? Do you want to engage with new forms of government and religious sects? Are you cool if there’s foreign language peppered throughout? How about the Klan? A Red scare? A nascent F.B.I.? A love story? Do you also want jazz? And do you want all of this to be part of a detective novel?

fucking of course YES I DO.

also finished just today, the personal librarian (2021) by Marie Benedict, Victoria Christopher Murray, narrated by Robin Miles. i had known there was a belle da costa greene award offered by the maa for medievalists of color, but it took me until reading this novel to actually learn anything about belle herself, and i am thrilled it exists. i'm so, so glad she existed. figuring out how to work her into my medieval book syllabus as we speak. a very different book than the one above, though they both must have taken a huge amount of research and informed imagination and inference-- belle destroyed her correspondence, apart from her business letters apparently-- but the academic in me was hoping there would be. two or three more skosh more precision and detail in the discussion of manuscript / incunabula research. there was a lot of 'the beauty of art' and 'the value of the written word' but it felt a little cursory. still, i know i'm an outlier. the discussions of her relationships to her parents, her identity, her passing, were all executed with so much care.

watching

the build up of intensity / count-down to the opening of the restaurant in the bear s2 was getting to me in the count down to the new semester, so i turned to something a little different. what if this is the year i actually get into psych. so far, signs point to this being a good decision. just finished the spelling bee episode (s1e02 i think? i didn't realize that the pilot was two parts, i thought those were two separate eps but whatever) and it was absurd, but. i'm just so glad to be watching tv made in an era where...you have to watch the screen to get everything that's happening! and there are contrived/ridiculous premises in the same episode as some layers are built up in the main characters' relationships and actual, like, continuity! it's a serial detective show that is at bottom incredibly silly but i'm here to over think and get invested in it. love to see dulé hill in a lead role. what the hell was i doing in 2006, when not watching this.

listening

i'm exploring a bit lately, new music, new (to me) artists-- I think i'm enjoying pop girlies at the moment, song of the summer etc., and charlie xcx's brat and caroline polachek have both been on my repeat list, but i don't have a ton to report yet. honestly this week it's been a lot of listening to the podcast a more civilized age: a star wars podcast (thanks @knifepadme for the rec!!) break down over andor. it is so incredibly cute to hear how excited they get over the first three episodes, and continue to get over the whole first arc. TELEVISION! it makes me feel like i'm rewatching the show with friends, their insights and the parallels and interpretations they keep pulling out are enriching it a lot, but also their star wars nerdery is picking up on things i wouldn't have thought to get excited about, and predictions that never occurred to me, and it's. delightful.

playing

finished chants of sennaar! total play time was about 20 hours, and that's with getting all the glyphs and all but two of the accomplishments (a little sore about that since I'm pretty sure i was in proximity for at least one of them that ended up not counting, but, whatever). i did consult a guide for the final series of puzzles, not the last language but the stuff that came after, i guess because i wanted to be completionist about it--but there were also some obstacles that weren't logic or anything, but more about learning the game's patterns (the first thing i looked up was staring right in front of me, i just wasn't paying attention to the right shit). there was a moment when the genre of the game shifted, i think i've mentioned before maybe, and it happens again towards the end-- but this time it didn't hit in quite the same way? perhaps because it wasn't as big a shock. more of a 'oh well, i guess this might as well be happening' reaction. i'd done a few of the puzzles out of order, i think, earlier than they'd anticipated / as i was progressing up the tower rather than all at the end, except for one at the very bottom that i had to go back and find (thank you to the people online who write guides and do playthroughs).

i really loved the visuals and design of this game-- the colors, the angles, the wild perspectives in some of the scenes. i liked that, once i'd gotten the hang of something, i could typically repeat that manner of thinking and succeed the next time as well-- a game about learning. learning to learn!

making

sewed part of one of the new patches onto the jacket. just barely worked out a stitch i could handle, only to have my housemate lend me a little rubber finger...thingy, and make everything so much easier. why did i decide to sew through denim and multiple layers of stitching? because i don't trust the iron-able backing, and also love to make life harder for myself i guess.

working on

it's been syllabus lockdown hours over here, and considering that the first class is thursday, it will continue to be until the absolute last fucking minute. i want too much and also shy away from making literally any decision. you'd think that this level of avoidance might make it easier to productively procrastinate by working on other things, but that's a funny joke.

#ilcb #in lieu of a commonplace book #weekly roundup

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sunflowerquill · 3 months ago

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Most Underrated Writing Tip

So in the past I've talked about how falling down a rabbithole of writing advice (especially online) can lead you to refrain from actually writing because you feel the need to be 'fully' prepared (which is impossible, since advice on the internet is infinite and everyone has their two cents). In the end, we came to the conclusion that practice is the best medicine and that you should go create art without the fear of it being 'imperfect' or 'flawed'. Check out the full post about the Writing/Art Advice Rabbithole to read more about it.

So now it may seem hypocritical of me to suddenly come here with writing advice, but it's something quite important that I didn't mention in my original post. And this time, I also have an example based on my own writings and how this 'tip' helped me.

So my advice is this: Read more books.

Pretty anticlimactic, right? It's something so obvious, and something that's been definitely said before. And yet, between the popular 'show don't tell's and 'said' alternatives, it's pretty rare to come across.

I'm going to use my own books/writing as example because A) it's easier and B) you never stop learning and improving. My writing isn't perfect either of course.

My book series is YA High Fantasy™, and I finished writing/editing the main trilogy some time ago. Now that I'm in the final stages before going "yes, it's ready for me to find a way to publish it", I've been fixing some things in the beginning chapters of the books. Since the series is High Fantasy™ and has quite a bit to digest when it comes to the world, its lore/mythology, species, etc, I've been trying to make it as easy as possible for the reader to have the basic knowledge without me being confusing or too direct.

As a victim of the 'Show, Don't Tell' extremism, I went through quite a bit of my writing journey thinking of SDT as the eleventh commandment. That did not help me in the long run, because no one was there to tell me that "hey, sometimes telling is necessary!". It was only when I read The Hobbit for the first time this summer that I realised that telling is sometimes 'required', especially when you have a complex High Fantasy™ world and you need to get the basics across to the reader. If I had never started reading it (and generally other books in my genre, since by then I had only been reading classics of completely different genres), I would've never thought to change up the first few chapters to make the world more clear to the reader. And if the reader were to get confused from the first chapter, it would've been a disaster.

Same thing about the editing process. Reading books from both self-published authors and traditional publishers has made me realise that just about every book you meet will have one mistake in it; whether it be a typo, a margin, an extra space, etc. This fact made me worry so much less about my own books. Of course I've read through them a thousand times and made sure there are no mistakes; but if there is, then that's okay! It happens. To err is human.

So yes, read more books, and not just for enjoyment. Try to find what you like about an author's style and find how and why they do it (it'll also expand your vocabulary!).

Toodles <3

#literature #books #writing #writing advice #writeblr #fantasy #creative writing #art

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ashleymasenado · 5 months ago

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TADC Wonderland AU - fake collab

My persona, Alexa (named after myself) and my little Pikachu friend here have somehow landed into a magical world full of whimsy and wonder! Though, as a young woman of science, I am more curious as to how that cup is floating just a few centimeters above the table…

But I am also a teenage woman who is quite fond of fantasy, I'll suspend my disbelief this one time and enjoy the strangeness of this place

Oh, and Pikachu, please don't get on the table and just stay with me here. I'm pretty sure the little guy in that cup isn't a special cookie

P.S. This took me so, so long to make; I started at, I think the halfway point of my high school year and then I ended up finishing it so long after I graduated, but I don't fricking care. I learned so much about art, I had fun mixing up colors and doing art things, and I have no regrets whatsoever

Original image here (by @endomentendo):

Second redraw by me (without Pikachu):

Thank you so much @endomentendo for inspiring me to do art! Your little fake collab challenge has helped me learn a few tricks, and I can't wait to apply them in this year's artfight and beyond!

Let's all continue to support one another as artists, and as friends!

#the amazing digital circus #tadc caine #tadc #tadc au #alice in wonderland #fake collab #my persona

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otaku553 · 1 year ago

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Hello! I saw your recent art of sabo, and in the tags you mentioned the big 3 of Shounen. I know it’s One piece and Naruto, but what’s the third? How come you like the character? Lovely artwork, it’s candy for the soul!! Thank you •u•

Ah thank you!!! The big three of shonen (for I guess the previous generation?) are Naruto, One Piece, and Bleach. Naruto and Bleach have already ended but it seems like One Piece is still going quite strong, despite the new generation of shonen anime (including Hero Aca, Demon Slayer, and the third spot is still debated! Probably JJK is my guess though that falls into its own sub genre of shonen dark fantasy I suppose)

Here are my favs! I’ll put the reasons why I like them in the read more because it’s quite long :)

Despite watching Naruto first I could never actually finish it because it was so long so I kind of just osmosed the later parts of shippuden through fanfics and other such media ^^; I think it’s pretty difficult to pick a definitive fav for Naruto because I feel like it tends to fumble a bit of its character writing? I think if I had to pick one maybe young Kakashi but still kind of eh. Maybe I just didn’t watch far enough to get attached

As for Bleach, I picked it up years ago around middle school and then dropped it after the first hundred episodes or so because filler got boring for younger me but then I picked it up again in high school and managed to at least get past aizen! And then I dropped it there because I wasn’t interested in any continuation after what seemed like an already pretty strong ending.

Toshiro is my favorite because he falls into all niches of character tropes that I enjoy including but not limited to: child genius who acts responsible but is still somewhat immature, cold personality along with ice powers but fierce loyalty to close relationships. I especially enjoy child genius characters for the contradictory dichotomy of what is expected of them in terms of maturity and knowledge and the amount of pressure these kinds of characters face and how they handle it! That said, I enjoy him more for the tropes that he falls into and my personal interpretation of him rather than canon writing for him. I think that though canon is an alright base, he doesn’t get much time to shine (character-wise instead of combat-wise).

And Sabo. Oh my goodness I am brainrotting so hard over Sabo right now. The ASL siblings in general have a vice grip on my heart and really are not letting go. There is so much tragedy in the way that they are written, that works because there are three of them. Ace and Luffy spend so much effort trying to save the only brother they have left in the world not realizing that if they go they’ll be the first to go actually because Sabo is still alive, and Sabo could have done so much and changed so much if only he had regained his memories sooner. Why didn’t he remember sooner? I can only assume it’s because he didn’t want to remember, because he grew out his hair to cover a scar he wasn’t proud of, because he was running away from his origins when he lost his memories and maybe that stuck with him. I don’t even remember when Sabo was introduced as a character because I don’t think he was mentioned during Marineford? But he’s such a compelling character because he does so much to save the world and yet is unable to save his own brother! And he’s written to fit with Ace and Luffy incredibly well, being the voice of reason where they can’t be.

#ask #one piece #sabo #toshiro hitsugaya #bleach #sabo’s round bug eyes are so silly to me #I’m not going to ever be able to draw him like that but. it’s really funny to me when people give him the narrow ikemen eyes #he’s such a dork…. a doting older brother……… amnesiac…… what a little meowmeow truly #I think I enjoy Toshiro because gifted kid burnout makes me relate a lot to the pressure and I wish I could handle maturity as well as him #Sabo on the other hand is just. hghgehhfhfh no concrete personal reason he’s just cool #i think anyone who goes into battle wearing a top hat and tailcoat and cravat is awesome #but then he goes and brings out the PIPE and it’s such an endearing little callback to how he grew up among trash heaps and asfnaenfaenf #I didn’t think he was that interesting at first because it felt a bit cliche for him to be a runaway noble #but then they hit him with the amnesia and hit him with the need to help others escape from evils that he can’t even really remember #and then they hit him with fucking……. returning his memories too little too late and his breakdown at being overwhelmed with not only the #memories of his brothers but also the knowledge that one of his brothers has died while he forgot them and was off doing something else and.#ashnasfnaenfeafhhaefh

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crystalninjaphoenix · 1 month ago

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A Respite

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Forty-Two

A JSE Fanfic

The chapter's on the shorter side this week. For me, at least, haha. It's only about 5000 words. I've been busy doing seasonal Halloween stuff. Honestly there wasn't much to cover in this chapter, anyway. After the revelation about the spirit, the guys regroup, getting more information from the ghost of King Sam. They camp for the night, and Chase tries to visit Jack in his dreams again, while Jackie expresses some worries he's been having. And yeah. It's a fairly simple chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it regardless ^-^

Previous Part | | From the Start | More AU | Read on AO3: CrystalNinjaPhoenix

Taglist: @brokentimewatch

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chase sat on the edge of the steep, cliff-like hill, looking down into the blasted heath, staring at the cabin and the strange trees in the center. It was hard to believe what they’d learned in there. He looked down at the mask in his hand, tilting it back and forth, watching the golden glitter sparkle in the light. He’d just finished telling the others everything that the Horned Elder One had conveyed to him. Everything about the true origin of the spirit who’d been possessing the King.

“This is... so hard to believe,” Jackie said, leaning back against a tree, his arms folded. “How could none of us have heard of this before?”

“Well, there’s that magic causing the spirit’s identity to be unspeakable,” Marvin said. He was also sitting on the ground, with Draco in his lap, purring. “That’s the reason.”

“No, I know that,” Jackie said. “I know that. In my thoughts, I know that. But it’s hard to accept. King Sam is a legend. His stories have been repeated for ages, over and over! Everyone knows about King Sam.” He glanced at the ghost standing nearby. “Uh...”

King Sam smiled slightly. {Thank you. It’s very interesting to know that I’m still held in such high regard.}

“Of course you are,” Jackie said, awkwardly reassuring him.

What’s your point, Jackie? Jameson asked. Surely you’re not having such a hard time grasping the concept of this strange magic. Even if we’ve never heard of it before, it seems easy enough to figure out. Nobody could say anything about Sam’s brother before now.

“Well I just... I think there would have been some signs, wouldn’t there?” Jackie asked. “We have tapestries of King Samuel, but none of his brother?”

“Perhaps...” Henrik, pacing back and forth, spoke slowly. “Perhaps there are some signs of him, but not many. After all, Samuel lived long ago. Before the alphabet from the east had fully taken hold. So there would not be many writings about him. And in terms of art, well, again, it was a long time ago. Things do not last that long. All the tapestries and songs we have about King Samuel now are based on legends that were passed down from mouth to mouth, over generations.”

Chase looked over at Sam. “Can you... try to explain?”

Sam hesitated. {I can try, but I cannot promise how clear or easy it will be to understand. The unspeakable still has a hold on me.}

“Why?” Jackie asked. “The rest of us can say Aneirin’s name!”

{One thing at a time, please.} Sam held up a hand. {Let’s start with why none of you knew it. I think Henrik’s explanation is pretty accurate. After all... stories change within just a few weeks. Is it hard to believe that some things could be forgotten over hundreds of years?}

“I can understand that,” Marvin said, nodding. “But I’m curious. What... caused this unspeakable magic? Did Aneirin cast it himself? Did the Elders do it? Did you do it, or did you just try to say your brother’s name one day and found you couldn’t?”

{The Elders did not do it,} Sam confirmed. {And neither did I. Either it was a natural reaction from the world, or it was intentionally done.}

“Why would this Aneirin want to be unspeakable?” Henrik wondered.

Probably because it would be easier to operate in secret, Jameson said. He looked at Sam. Was it... like how Marvin said, then? You just one day were unable to mention him?

Sam nodded slowly. {I once tried to speak to a friend of mine about... about the matter. But my throat closed up. And everyone else was the same. Weavers who tried to make tapestries found their fingers stilling. When we began to try and write things with this new alphabet thing, feeling that records would be important, we could not chisel in the letters that spelled... certain things. We talked around the subject. We all knew what we meant, exchanging specific looks. But over time... it became less important. The world moved on. And I could not tell new people I’d met about certain things. And so, the memory died quickly.}

“That’s... that’s sad,” Chase whispered. “To be forgotten so soon.”

“Hey, this spirit is possessing the King!” Jackie said. “He’s done so many terrible things while possessing him! I’ve seen warriors harass farmsfolk to pay taxes that they can’t afford, encouraged by direct orders from the King. He’s trying to build a navy! Probably to sail off and declare war on other kingdoms. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.”

Chase’s head snapped up to look at him. “I know! I saw him try to kill Sam! His own flesh and blood. Clearly, a man like that, and a man who went to such lengths to get power, does not deserve sympathy.” He sighed. “Still... it’s a terrible thing. And in the end, it’s hurt us more than helped us, hasn’t it? After all, maybe if we knew about Sam’s traitor brother, something would’ve been different.”

Jameson shrugged. I think we wouldn’t have expected the spirit to be him, anyway. Who would expect that?

Marvin nodded slowly. “While people can become ghosts, possessive spirits are different things. And even if people could become possessive spirits, those types of spirits can’t cast spells like the King could. That lightning that Chase and Jameson said he threw at them. And magic doorways. I think we can confidently conclude that the magic doorway that sent the warriors to Wyvernlair was done by this Aneirin.”

Jackie pointed at him. “Okay, that brings me back to a question I asked earlier. Why can we say Aneirin’s name but King Sam cannot?”

Sam shrugged. {Perhaps the Elders were able to cut through that magic for you. Or perhaps it is weaker now than it used to be when it had a hold on the rest of us. Perhaps it is both, combined.}

Chase stared off into the distance, once again looking at the cabin. “It wouldn’t be the first time magic hasn’t affected me. The King tried to command me once, with enchantment. He wasn’t able to.”

{I know that that, for sure, is because of the Horned Elder One,} Sam said. {They’ve paid close attention to you. Chosen you to help. And as someone chosen by the guardian of wild, uncontrollable places... well, naturally, you can’t be controlled.}

Chase blinked. He looked back down at his mask. It still felt strange that one of the Elders chose him for this. They clearly thought he could do it. But...

Well... he hoped that he wouldn’t let them down.

Some time passed in silence. Then Henrik cleared his throat. “Well. Now that we know all that we came here to know... do we just trek back through the Wyldwood?”

Jackie pursed his lips. “That dullahan might still be in the area. I don’t know if we should leave in this direction. Maybe we cross this heath and get up at the opposite end so we can circle around it by a wide berth.”

“We only have half a day of daylight left,” Chase said. “And we... I-I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t think I’m going to be... fully alert while walking. My mind is definitely going to be stuck on this subject. And if the Wyldwood has proven anything, it’s that you need to be alert.”

Are you saying we camp for the rest of the day? Jameson asked.

“Yes. And leave early in the morning.”

Marvin frowned. “I have no objections to that. Well... I have one objection. Can we not camp in this... clearing? It makes me uneasy.”

“Oh yea, I was thinking we’d stay on the edge like we are now,” Chase said. “I don’t want to go back down there, either.”

“Let’s circle around it, then.” Jackie pushed away from the tree. “King Samuel, will you be... coming with us?”

{I can walk to your new camp with you, if that’s what you mean,} Sam said. {But if you’re asking me to follow you on your journey, I cannot.}

“Are you bound to this location?” Marvin asks.

{In a way—}

“Can we walk and talk?” Jackie interrupted—then immediately looked like he regretted that. “Uh, my apologies, King.”

Sam laughed. The sound rang in their thoughts like the memory of wind chimes. {Don’t be so formal, Jackie. Just calling me Sam is fine. I’m no longer the King. A dead man can’t rule over anything, regardless of if he possesses the living.}

Chase got to his feet. “You’re right. That’s not his right anymore, no matter what he thinks he deserves.” He sighed. “Alright. Let’s find a place to camp. Continue what you were saying, Sam. Something about being bound here?”

The group started to walk. Sam followed alongside them, his feet not quite touching the ground. {I suppose I am bound to this location, in a way. But not for reasons you think. You see, the longer a ghost exists, the weaker it gets. I am, as you all have notes, a very old ghost of a man who died long ago. I am thus, very weak. It is difficult for me to... be present. To take form and reach out to you all.}

Marvin nodded along. “Let me guess. Something about the Wyldwood makes you stronger?”

{The Wyldlands are places where magic pools. And magic does indeed make ghosts stronger. But even then, I am such an old spirit that I cannot move far beyond the center of the Wyldwood, where the magic is strongest.}

“We are near the center of the Wyldwood...” Henrik breathed. He looked down into the blasted heath. “That is why that dark deed was done here, then. But in turn, it has left a scar near the heart of this place.”

Marvin growled. “This Aneirin is a real bastard.”

{I can agree with that statement,} Sam said.

Even though he is your brother? Jameson asked.

“His brother who tried to kill him,” Chase emphasized.

Sam laughed again. {Honestly, Chase, though that is true, I was once more sad than angry about it. Even when I died. It is only now that I know about... about the terrible deed that was done, that my anger has eclipsed the sadness.}

Jackie sighed. “I guess that makes sense. He was still your family.”

“Family can be bastards,” Marvin muttered. “Even siblings.”

Jackie nodded. And after a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and put a hand on Marvin’s shoulder. Marvin did not shake it off.

Henrik coughed. “So... what is it like being a ghost? It must be terribly boring.”

{Boredom is an emotion for the living,} Sam said. {Though I used to get bored very easily, I no longer do. In fact, now that you all have come up with names for some of people’s mental strangeness, I do wonder if my boredom was a symptom of... What do you call it?... Something about distraction.}

“Impulsive distraction?” Jackie asked. “That’s what I have. I can’t imagine not being bored at the first sign of nothing happening.”

“You would be able to cope with the boredom better if you actually took a mind soother,” Henrik muttered.

Sam chuckled. {Yes, that. Though we did not have mind soothers when I was alive. But even knowing a name for it would have reassured me.}

Jameson looked at him curiously. If you’re stuck in the Wyldwood, how do you even know about things like mind soothers?

“Do you know it magically?” Marvin asked.

{Well, I used to be able to move across the whole kingdom as a spirit. No one could ever see or hear me, but I was able to watch and learn a lot.} Sam paused. {The same is true for certain people.}

“Aneirin,” Chase mumbled. “How else would he have known about Jack if he wasn’t watching the royal line in some way?” He shuddered. “A silent presence stalking you down, and your children, and their children, and waiting for one to pounce and... Th-that’s unnerving.”

“Quite unnerving,” Henrik agreed, eyes darting to the side for a moment.

{These are the sort of deeds that turn sadness to anger,} Sam said.

The group didn’t go all the way to the other side of the clearing, but rather stopped about a quarter of the way around. They found a spot where the trees weren’t so thick and decided that this was a good place to set up camp. Draco settled down in a gap between tree roots and closed his eyes, taking a nap as the humans put out their bedrolls. Sam watched, standing on the edge of the clearing.

“Are you going to stand there protecting us?” Chase asked jokingly.

{If that’s what you wish,} Sam said calmly.

“Oh I-I mean you don’t have to—”

{Chase, a ghost might not get bored, but I don’t have much else to do. There is no greater priority to me than your safety, and if me being here would help with that, I’ll stay.}

Chase blinked, then nodded. “Th-thank you.”

“Can a ghost do much to protect people?” Henrik wondered.

“He definitely did something to drive off that dullahan,” Marvin said.

“Yeah that sword may be ghostly but it worked enough for the headless bastard!” Jackie agreed.

You were able to cut down a monster with a ghostly blade? Jameson asked.

Sam shook his head. {The slices I managed to get were not enough to fell it.}

“That is still very interesting,” Henrik said.

“And impressive,” Chase added. “Have you... ever fought one of those before? Or are you just that skilled or lucky?”

{Yes, I fought one in a graveyard once, along with some comrades of mine. Fellow traveling companions, I’d gathered a small party by that time on my journey.}

Marvin’s eyes lit up. As did Jackie’s. “We’ve never heard that story before!” Marvin said.

“And I thought I’d heard just about every story about you!” Jackie fiddled with his cape excitedly. “Can you tell us about that?”

Sam blinked, then smiled. {Of course. And you tell me some of the stories you all have, too. I’m sure there’s a lot I haven’t learned about you and the Masked Phantoms.}

As the rest of the day passed, the group sat in a circle, exchanging stories, until eventually they had to eat, digging into their rations for the first time in a while. The strange magic of the Wyldwood had kept them from getting hungry, but now they were near that circle of dead earth, a dead spot in the magic, so they once again felt the rumblings of hunger. After that, they all agreed it was best to try and rest so they could leave early.

Or... try to rest, at least. Because two people found themselves awake as time went on. Chase laid in his bedroll, staring up at the tree boughs, before eventually rolling over to look at where Sam was standing. One side of the camp was darker, as there weren’t any glowing plants over near the blasted heath. But despite standing in that shadowy part, Sam seemed to be outlined in a faint light. He was staring out towards the clearing, but he seemed to sense Chase looking at him, turning back around to look back at him in turn. {Need something?}

“Huh? N-no, I...” Chase looked over at the others, but didn’t see anyone moving. So he sat up, assuming they were asleep. “I’m thinking about Jack,” he whispered. “I haven’t had one of those magical dreams since entering the Wyldwood, and the last one I had was... I-I’m... I’m scared for him.”

Sam tilted his head, thoughtful. {I... understand your worry. I watched over him a little, while I could. He was... a bright, energetic child, and a good, kind man. He... doesn’t deserve any of this.} He made a sighing motion.

“...He’s your descendant, isn’t he?” Chase asked. “You, uh... He looks a lot like you.”

{I know. And I wonder if that’s another reason he was targeted.} Sam shook his head. {I hope I can help him.}

Chase blinked. He never imagined the first King of Glasúil would look so... vulnerable. So much like... like how Chase himself felt. “Yea... me too,” he said quietly. “Look. Do you, uh... do you have the power to... give me one of those draíslings?”

Sam shook his head {I can speak with you in your mind, but as weak as I am, my enchantment powers can’t do much more than that. But... the bridge is already established. Perhaps if you asked the Horned Elder One for help, they will guide you there tonight.}

“...you mean, pray to them?” Chase blinked. “Huh. How have I not thought of that yet?”

{Sometimes the simplest ideas evade us.} Sam smiled encouragingly. {It’s worth trying, isn’t it?}

“Yea, it is.” Chase nodded. He took a deep breath. “Thank you, Sam.” And he laid back down, closing his eyes, silently sending his thoughts into the air. Please, Horned Elder One... he needed to speak to Jack. He needed to check on him. He didn’t care if Aneirin would stab him in the dream again. He just... had to reassure him... that they knew the truth now...

Chase drifted off, but someone else stayed awake, listening to Chase’s breathing slow. Jackie stared out at the surrounding trees. He knew that Sam being here meant that they didn’t have to take shifts to keep guard, but it wouldn’t hurt to look out as well, right? He kept shifting direction slowly, turning back and forth, moving his bedroll ever so slightly occasionally so he could look everywhere. But he couldn’t wake up the others, so he had to be very quiet.

But evidently, he wasn’t quiet enough.

{Is there any particular reason you’re rolling around like a caterpillar?}

Jackie inhaled sharply at the voice in his mind. He rolled over again and found himself staring at a set of ghostly boots. Sam crouched down next to him, waving. “...hello,” Jackie said. “Good evening.”

{You’re really having trouble dropping the formalities, aren’t you?} Sam said.

“Well... you’re the first King!” Jackie sat up, careful to keep his voice down even as he wanted to get loud with excitement. “I grew up hearing stories about you from my mam. I loved hearing about your daring exploits. It... was one of the things that inspired me to be a warrior. To help people and do good, incredible things. Like you did.”

Sam shifted position, sitting instead of crouching. {I came from the same place you did, you know. Not literally. I hear you’re from the west-center farmlands, while I grew up on the island you now call Suilthair. But I mean... I grew up hearing stories and wanting to do incredible things, too. So out of any of us, you and I should be the ones who are least awkward around each other.”

Jackie laughed. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?” His eyes drifted over to the trees, scanning them instinctively. “But as similar as we are, you are... you are legendary. Strong. A protector of good. A leader who looks after people. Everything...” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “E-everything I... want to be.”

Sam tilted his head. {Do you not think you are a strong, protective leader?}

“No, I know I am,” Jackie said. “You’re just... more of it.”

{Well... believe me, I never fully felt like that,} Sam said gently. {Especially after the events you now know about. Something like that does a lot to shake your confidence in your skills.}

Jackie laughed. “I-I guess it would.” He fell silent, continuing to look at the trees, searching for motion.

{You can sleep, you know.} Sam’s voice sounded like a whisper, like a feather floating into Jackie’s mind. {I can watch over you.}

“...I know,” Jackie said reluctantly. “But... I...” He shook his head. “I-it would be better to have two people on watch, right?”

{Not when one of them is an unsleeping ghost and the other is going to soon be exhausted from lack of sleep and too much activity. It was a busy day for all of you.}

Jackie didn’t say anything. He pulled his knees close to him, taking the bedroll with him.

{...there is something bothering you.} It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Jackie denied. “I just... I want to stay on watch.”

{Why?} Sam asked.

“I... I-I just want to. It would be better. If I could help, I should.”

{Because you are the leader?} Sam asked. {The strong one? The protector of others?}

Jackie’s breath hitched. Tears sprung to his eyes, though he didn’t know why. “I... If I have the ability, I... I should, shouldn’t I?” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t... I don’t want anything to happen to them. Especially since I’m weaponless now. That damned dullahan’s axe broke both my swords. All I can really do for now is look out for threats.”

{You can rest,} Sam said quietly. {And be sure that you’re prepared to fight tomorrow.}

“Fight with what? As I said, I’ve lost my weapons.”

{I can help with that.}

Jackie’s head snapped towards him, confused. “Huh? You’re... you’re a ghost, though.”

Sam smiled. {You can say I have connections. But it’ll probably take a while. The night. So, that means that once you fall asleep, you’ll wake up to something new.}

“Hah. That’s the sort of thing my dad would say to me as a child, when I wanted to stay up before the spring equinox, so I could catch the Growing Elder delivering presents. He always said they wouldn’t leave them if they knew I was awake.”

{It’s good to see that tradition persists.} Sam smiled slightly. But then he looked serious. {Jackie... I said we are alike. And because I said that... I know that it’s very easy to put others over yourself. Not because you think low of yourself, but because that’s what you think you should do. As the strong one, the one who is able to keep them safe, you must keep them safe.}

The tears were in Jackie’s eyes again. He looked away.

{But if you push yourself when there is no danger, you will be unprepared for when there is true risk,} Sam continued. {You cannot stay awake all night every night. Please. Let me help you. Just get some sleep, okay?}

Jackie faced him again. One of the tears slipped out but he still smiled. “I... guess I can’t disobey a request from a legend. That’d feel disrespectful.”

Sam grinned. {Still with those formalities, hm?} He laughed quietly. {Get some rest. I’ll keep watch. But I’ll also make sure your swords are replaced.}

“You can do that without leaving our sides?”

Sam nodded. {Magic is a fun thing, isn’t it?}

“It really is. Even if I don’t fully understand it.” Jackie stretched, then laid down again. He turned his eyes away from the trees and up at the branches stretching overhead. Then he snuggled down into the bedroll and closed his eyes.

Sam sat next to him for a moment more, making sure he fully fell asleep. Once he was sure he drifted off, he stood up and returned to the spot he was standing before, making sure that they were safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chase’s praying must have paid off, because as he drifted off, he found himself in the draísling again. The hallway to the throne room, while recognizable, looked much worse for wear. The walls were darkened with dirt, and the stone bricks had cracked with age, mold lining the tapestries. The Horned Elder One wasn’t here, but they also weren’t here last time. But there was someone else here.

That man from last time blocked the way to the throne room. The man with green eyes, wearing dark leather armor over a green and black outfit, who looked a lot like Jack. As Chase stared at him, he felt that invisible force pushing him backwards. “You,” Chase breathed. “You’re him.”

Aneirin narrowed his eyes. “Get out of here. You don’t belong here.”

“And you do?” Chase asked. “This is Jack’s mind! You’re the intruder.”

Without even answering, Aneirin darted forward. Copper flashed through the air, but Chase was expecting it this time. He jumped back to avoid the slash—but then felt the world start to fade away. “No!” He shouted, focusing. Right, if he stepped backwards, he would wake up again. He needed to get past Aneirin.

Aneirin slashed at him, and Chase cried out, blocking the seax with his arm but feeling it slice through his skin. But wait—his skin wasn’t really there, was it? Why would a wound in a dream do much? Actually—why couldn’t he change this hallway? Just using his imagination? He’d been able to break Jack’s chains in the well just by thinking he could.

Another slash, but Chase imagined a shield, and suddenly there was a loud CLANG! as the blade hit a circle of metal on his arm instead of his chest. Aneirin’s eyes widened—was he surprised? Chase took the moment of hesitation to run to the side, right at one of the tapestries. There was a hidden tunnel behind there! He would make there be!

And there was. There was a tunnel, curving around, leading towards the throne room. Chase ran forward, while behind him, he heard Aneirin screech in anger.

He burst out of the tunnel halfway down the throne room. The whole room was slanted, a hill leading up to the dais, stairs after stairs after stairs. Chase ran, pushing himself as fast as he could towards the throne.

“Chase!” Aneirin’s voice screamed. “You’re going to die!”

Chase flinched, but hurried upwards anyway. He could feel wind pushing him backwards, Aneirin trying to expel him from the dream. He felt pain stab into his back, and cried out. Had Aneirin thrown a knife at him?! He started to glance back, but then the wind pushing him back grew stronger. No! He couldn’t stop for a single moment! He got close to the ground, grabbing onto the stairs for support. A knife flew through the air as he bent down, barely missing him. No time to worry about that! Keep going, keep going!

As he got closer to the top of this dais staircase, he noticed something. The throne was not... exposed. Instead, there were iron bars around it. A giant cage. But through the bars, he could see Jack curled up on the throne. “Jack!” He shouted.

Jack raised his head. That silencing mask was still on his face. Above them, his blue eyes went wide, desperate. Wet with tears.

“Jack, we’re coming!” Chase yelled. “We found something! We know something now! W-we can help you!”

Uncurling slightly, Jack started to reach out to him, the chains stopping him right before he was able to put his hands through the bars. Chase tried to reach out as well—

A scream pierced the air. Chase felt a hand on his shoulder: Aneirin. Before Chase could react, Aneirin pulled Chase off the staircase, sending him tumbling down, down, down. And Chase felt every impact, each one coming sooner as he picked up speed.

Until he stopped, falling flat on the ground. His whole body ached, and though Chase tried to remember that none of this was real, it was hard to keep that in mind when the pain felt so intense.

Aneirin appeared before him, glaring down at him. He crouched down by Chase. “This is my mind now,” he growled. “Your Jack will stay buried.”

Then he raised his seax and brought it down on Chase’s neck—

And Chase awoke, gasping in pain.

Morning had dawned on the Wyldwood. Bright sunlight shone through the tree branches. They must have slept a bit later than usual. As Chase looked around, he saw that the others were still sleeping. Sam’s ghost sat on the ground, facing the clearing instead of the group. He glanced back at Chase, concerned. {Are you alright?}

“Y-yea... I just... I...” Chase swallowed a lump in his throat. “Aneirin was... there. And... very insistent. On me... not being there.”

{...I’m sorry,} Sam said quietly.

“No, don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Chase lied still, staring up at the trees.

Eventually, the others awoke, getting breakfast ready. Chase didn’t say anything about his dream.

Jackie was the first ready to start walking again, pacing anxiously as soon as he was done with breakfast and his bedroll was packed up. The others noticed this quickly. “Are you alright, Jackie?” Henrik asked.

“Yea.” Jackie nodded. “I’m just... ready to go. A bit worried about what we’ll face.”

Sam got to his feet. {Well, I have something for you that will help assuage those worries.} He held out his hands in front of him, palms up. Some silvery light glimmered above them. Curious, Jackie stepped closer. The light grew stronger, brighter. It flashed, and when it faded, two swords were lying across his hands. Jackie gasped. The blades and hilts of the swords were gleaming silver. {These blades should cut down spirits and magical creatures with ease,} Sam said.

“M-magical swords?!” Marvin stammered. “That’s—h-how did you get those?”

Sam smiled slightly. {I have my ways.}

“I... I w-wasn’t expecting... Are you sure, my King?” Jackie asked.

{I’m not a King anymore, remember?} Sam said. {And I’m very sure. These will be very helpful to you. They can also absorb various energies. Magic, but also lightning and fire. Doing this will allow you to use it against others during your next strikes.}

Jackie’s eyes lit up. “That’s... that’s amazing.” He reached out, hands trembling slightly, and took the swords. “They’re... lighter than I expected.” He slid one into the sheathe for his old sword, finding it fit perfectly. Then he gave the other a few experimental swings. “Oh. But there’s power behind this. I can feel it.” He sheathed the other sword and bowed deeply towards Sam. “Thank you, Sam. I-I’m honored. We’ll save the kingdom. I promise.”

Chase recalled his dream, and he nodded as well. “I promise, too.”

We won’t stop until that spirit is taken care of, Jameson said.

“And until Jack is free,” Henrik added.

Marvin simply nodded silently.

{I know you all will,} Sam said. {I believe you can do it. And so do the Elders.} He bowed to them. {I leave it in your hands.}

And with that, Sam faded away, leaving the others to their journey back.

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