#soul caddy

[brenna]

the vibe for may 28th is songs with cadillacs in them. in college, I drove a burgundy 1988 cadillac deville and was working on a collection of songs that mentioned cadillacs. these albums both have one, but that's not why I love them.

[x-i-l-verify]

「Dream SMP Daemon AU 」

    ♫ WILBUR SOOT + CADENZA (WOOD MOUSE) ♫

Wood mice are a socially flexible, independent, highly adaptable species of rodent, able to call nearly anywhere - urban settings, gardens, moorland, woodland, grassland, and more - their home. They rapidly colonize new terrains and will make nests in underground tunnels, inside hollow logs, nesting boxes, or in dense vegetation. Individuals nest communally in winter, and males and females may group together when sleeping for warmth. In the spring, females usually take up their own home ranges and nest alone.

During breeding season, females become very territorial and defend their ranges from other females. However, mouse burrows likely survive from one generation to the next, being expanded upon and modified as needed, and there has also been instances of cooperative burrowing documented. Wood mice are also the only other animal apart from humans to place conspicuous objects (twigs, leaves, etc.) at key points in their territory, showing a remarkable aptitude for planning and problem solving.

These mice have many predators (foxes, weasels, cats, owls and kestrels), but they have many tactics at their disposal to ensure their well-being, safety, and survival, such as making impressive leaps to safety, or shedding the skin off their tails to escape predators. They don’t hibernate during winter, but they can enter periods of torpor if conditions get tough enough.

Dominant males may be aggressive, having been reported to chase and even kill juveniles. In addition, before mating, males produce a string of ultrasounds that may pacify the female, indicating these rodents are not averse to using force or other, more underhanded means of getting what they want.

Wilbur is ambitious, charismatic, and conniving, while Caddy represents his insecure, sensitive, self-aware side.

~

NAME MEANING A cadenza is a musical term with three separate meanings. The first is a parenthetical flourish in an aria or other solo piece commonly just before a final or other important cadence. The second is a technically brilliant sometimes improvised solo passage toward the close of a concerto. Finally, a cadenza can refer to an exceptionally brilliant part of an artistic or literary work.

~

SOURCES https://daemonpage.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=25956

[plus-low-overthrow]

Alan Caddy: Tribute to … - Ain't No Sunshine (Stereo Plus 3)

Open Intro Drums!

wrt. Bill Withers, 1973.

[johntorrington]

ipad emotion

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Harlequin!Showtime fankid - Cade!

I may be sick but this was so worth it

So remember when I said on main that I badly wanted to draw a Harlequin AU Showtime fankid? Yeah, this is the lil' bugger.

His original name is Caddi, and Cade is a shorter nickname. He's the first Child Puppet in history, and he's often referred to as a "Miracle Star" for it. He's fierce like his mom, smart like his dad, and twice as mischievous as both his parents will ever be. His classification of a Puppet is a Harlequin.

He pretty much likes to bite everything in range: whether that be fingers, heads, objects, furniture, etc, a trait he definitely got from his mother's side. At a young age he's already showing feats of intelligence, being interested in his father's tinkered machineries (and sometimes even allowed to participate in them), despite not even being able to talk yet.

No one exactly knows how Caddi came to be: One day Pomni simply showed signs of being weakened to the point of being bedridden, constantly fuming and having more tendencies to bite or attack when shocked or approached, as well as having cravings out of nowhere.

Caine was concerned by her situation, and examined Pomni's condition. He then sensed that Pomni's die was housing TWO souls, a smaller, incomplete one that was accidentally eating away at her own to grow stronger. Caine then proceeded to extract the incomplete energy to save her life, and transferred it to a smaller die, to which he informs Pomni about the news. He then gives her the choice whether to let the die complete it's still undergoing process of life, or to obliterate the little, forming soul.

Pomni chose the former.

The Puppetmaster then spent many sun and moons of trial and error to figure out how the little die wanted it's form to turn out, until one day he realized this wasn't his theory of Pomni's soul splitting apart to create a newer being: Somehow, he had a hand in it's creation and he doesn't fully know why, or how it even came to be in the first place.

So taking a brave risk, he came up with a design that combined both him and Pomni's features, into a smaller, compact puppet.

The little soul accepted this new form, twinkling brightly like a star in the sky, and was officially born.

He may be a handful at times, but gosh darn does his parents love him regardless.

[withjaejae]

Hole-in-one | JJK

A day of golf goes better than expected despite being ditched by your bestfriend and spending the afternoon with your so-called rival.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

High society of sorts, Richie Rich type of wealth.

Warnings: Oral (m/f), sexual jokes, dig bick Jk, playful banter, unprotected sex, squirting, throat fucking, sexual tension, one-shot. (Did I miss something?)

A/N: I wanted to write more but I thought it ended ok. My knowledge on golf is based on Wii which I stopped playing a long time ago. So bear with me.

I have no way to know how long but enjoy.

++++++

You groan in frustration as you read Namjoon's text saying he left with the girl he met at the club lobby.

It was a nice sunny afternoon, perfect for golf. At least Namjoon was gonna fill holes either way and that irks you the most. He's had women, left and right, while you struggled with your types.

All you want was a man who shared the same things you like. Golf was your thing, Namjoon came for the women who thought they were stealing him from you. When in fact, Namjoon was your cousin/best friend.

"Alone today?" The attendant, Jean, always met you with a smile and your golf clubs.

"Yeah, unfortunately my cousin can't last a second without a mouth around his dick." Her face flushed a deep crimson. "No offense." Yup, she and Namjoon did it too.

"None taken, I'm over it." She shrugs and grabs the golf kart key from the shelf. "Shall we?"

"I think I wanna go solo today, Jean. Thanks." You take the key from her and she nods. She knows better than to say no to you.

Your custom lavender colored Kart waited for you, your initials in mettalic purple on the front. It was parked next to several other custom karts.

You arrived at your first course. A man was already standing there, setting up his own stuff. No caddie in sight, you notice his arms and very much know who he is. You look at the deep purple colored kart next to yours.

"No girls to fuck on this fine afternoon, Jeon?" You smirk as you step out of your kart.

He stands up straight at the sound of your voice, he doesn't need to turn around to know its you.

"I wondered why the birds stopped singing." He continues to set up his tee. "No dicks to suck?" He quips.

"I don't fuck on the weekends." You're unfazed having been bantering like this for about a year now.

"Oh look, we do have things in common." He calls 'fore' before swinging his club.

You both watched as the ball lands near the hole. Out of respect you clap your hands, that was a good swing.

"Namjoon?" He finally turns to look at you, his eyes rake over your legs, your skirt is too short for golfing and your top hugged you so well he could outline your tits.

"Found a poor soul in the lobby before he could even touch some grass." You snort and pull out your own driver and ball.

He steps back, clearly you both could use the company even if it meant mean retorts.

You take position, he doesn't even try to be subtle about oggling at your ass.

You and Jungkook are neighbors but you studied abroad for middle school and highschool. Why you chose to come home for college, you're not sure. But you and Jungkook are in senior year now and you have common friend groups but not really that close until...

A year ago, you finally joined your parents to the Jeon's hunting weekend, it was an annual thing. It was going smoothly for the most part but when you and Jungkook shot the same boar at the same time, that's when the mean comments started. It was a rivalry of sorts, one trying to become better than the other.

Contrary to what he said earlier, you have too many things in common being raised in high society.

You see each other all the time at sport events and even charities but nothing beyond those events.

To be here with him, without anyone else is a first. You both won't admit that you've been crushing on each other but your society knows there's tension between you two.

"Nice ass." He comments just as you swing. Your ball landing a bit far from the hole.

"You did that on purpose." You frown at him, he was already smirking with that cute bunny looking face, his nose scrunched up.

"I did. Now look, looks like you need two more strokes to make it." He snorts as he walks towards his kart and you groan as you follow him.

"Title of your sex tape." You comment under your breath, he laughs.

You both drive down the path towards the hole.

You study the distance of your ball to the hole and his distance. You can make it in one, if you're lucky.

He lines himself up.

"Nice ass." You say back as he swings and it goes right in. You roll your eyes.

"Two strokes." He winks and moves to stand next to you. Shoulders touching, suddenly it feels warmer.

You stop to feel the wind, you work on your angle and with one stroke, it goes in too.

"Impressive." He claps his hands too and you made a little curtsy. "Never thought you'd be this good at golf."

"You see me here all the time. Doesn't that make sense?" You take both balls from the hole.

Instead of putting the ball in his palm, you make a bold move of standing in front of him while slipping both in his pockets.

"There, now you have a pair of balls." You look up at him, for a second his eyes darkened but the smirk was back.

He leans down, lips nearly touching. "YN, if you wanted to touch my balls, all you need to do is ask."

Your cheeks feel hot and it doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook. But you never back down.

"I thought you didn't have any." You lean closer, one more move and your lips would be touching.

"I can show you right now." Your face moves back. "All talk and no walk, a shame." He stands up straight. "But if you want it so badly. When I do a hole in one, you be my caddie. And if you do a hole in one, I'll fuck your brains out."

You snort but can't help feel the rush of wetness from between your folds.

"You say that like fucking you is a prize." You step away from him. "The only hole you'll get to fill today are on the course. But..." You flip your hair to the side, a mischievous glint in your eye. "If you wanted to, all you have to do is ask."

"Oh? Then, YN, can I fuck your brains out?" Oh, he's bold. You roll your eyes and walk back to your Kart.

He follows you, with a grin plastered on his face.

"Are you scared you might actually like it?" You scoff and look at him. Your heartrate suddenly spiking.

"I'm afraid I might get disappointed." You start to feel hot. Its only been one course, if you go back now. Jean will definitely say something.

"Oh baby, I could live up to your gold standard. I am gold standard." He's cocky and arrogant but god it would be a lie to say you're not turned on.

"See you at the next course, Jeon." Your kart starts backing up and he rushes to follow you again.

You both arrive at the same time, this time at a more difficult course.

"The next course we should do is intercourse." He hasn't even reached you yet and he's already teasing.

"Shut up before someone hears you." You forcefully stick your tee on the ground.

"Why? Its not like we're both kids, plus nobody is around." He looks around, the next group of golfers are a hectare away.

You sigh and face him again. He loves riling you up, it was just playful banter before and now that you've entered this kind of teasing, he loves your reactions.

"Okay." You declare. His grin ceasing a bit, his eyebrows raised. "I'll tee first, if I do a hole in one, you get on your knees and..."

"Beg for your forgiveness? Princess I don't beg." He smirks again, he licks his lip piercing.

You step even closer, your tits touching his chest and he loves the feeling. "No, I want the golden boy to get on his knees and show me what that mouth can do other than tease." His throat runs dry.

Shit. "Is that supposed to be a punishment? You'd probably beg for more once I'm done." He kicks his leg, hopefully to free some space in his pants for his growing boner.

You hum. "Another thing we have in common, I don't beg." Lie, you always beg in bed.

"Deal. But if I make a hole in one, you're the one getting on your knees." He's confident. Given your 'punishments' aren't really punishments. He'd love to eat you out, but he won't tell you that.

But you know this course, you've hit holes in ones in this. Yout heart is beating loudly almost clouding your senses. Jungkook has a permanent teasing smirk on his face you'd like to kiss off.

Out of all the places you could have teased each other into fucking, you didn't expect it to be at the golf course.

"Don't worry princess, I'll be gentle... At first." He chuckles.

You take a deep breath and swing. You both watched the ball as it flies over the field. You bit your lip at it lands an inch away and it falls right in. Your hands fly in the air cheering for yourself.

"Are you this excited to have me eat you?" He was standing directly behind you, his warmth and scent engulfing you. "My turn."

You step away and wink at him. He takes a deep breath and swings. You both watch as it takes the same speed and the same arch and his ball lands the exact same way yours did. A hole in one for the both of you.

He turns to you with a satisfied grin.

"I hope your throat is ready for me princess." Your nerves are going haywire at his voice. Did it get lower?

You quietly head to your kart, you nod to the side, gesturing him to follow you and you drive away.

The thing with this club house is, both your parents are partial owners, hence you have access to the many rooms the place offers if you asked.

Lucky for you, you already planned on staying the night since it was a free weekend.

You barely parked properly, tossing the key to the valet. You meet Jean and you ask for a room key, she eyes you then behind you, sure enough Jeon Jungkook was standing there, watching your ass again.

She hands you the key card. No more words exchanged between you, sexual tension builds in its wake.

You head to the elevator and head to the third floor. The suites.

Your breathing is starting to get ragged as you feel the fragile tension inside the elevator. Jungkoom just stood there, eyes forward, hands in his pockets. He refrains from moving since this place had security camers and your neighborhood would have a field day if you fucked in the club elevators.

But all he can hear is his heartbeat, all he can smell is you, and all he can feel is the tightness in his pants.

He follows you down the hall, and you swipe the key card. The moment the two of you cross the threshold and the door securely locked. You turn to face him and his hands are already on you, pulling your face into feverish kiss. You moan into the kiss as he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his torso.

He takes you to the couch. He grins into the kiss.

"What?" You pull away, you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

"I was thinking who should get their prize first." His hand was on your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip. You take it into your mouth and suck on it. "fuck." He mumbles and his breath gets caught in his throat.

"Since I'm being generous." You get off him and get on your knees in front of him. "Wouldn't want to keep my goldben boy waiting." The way you called him yours made his heart skip a beat.

It was a joint effort to take his pants off. What he didn't expect was for you to take your top off, a sexy lace bra underneath it. Usually, you wear a sports bra but you didn't feel like it today. Now you know why.

He's huge. Your wetness growing in your panties. Eager to have him, you take a hold of his base and rub his dick over your face.

You moan and finally take him into your mouth. He hisses and moans.

His fingers weave through your hair. The way you look up at him as you take him deeper almost made him cum. Fuck, for years you basically ignored each other despite everyone teasing you about ending up together since your parents were basically best friends, had you known that his dick would fit perfectly in your mouth.

You moan around him, the vibrations sending Jungkook into pure bliss.

"Keep going." His head was thrown back as he moans loudly. "So fucking needy." You took him deeper to show him how needy you can become.

He takes your hands and places them on his thigh. "Double tap if you can't take it." You nod knowing what he'd do next. He did say he'd be gentle at first.

He weaves both hands into your hair this time and fucked your throat. Your tears and drool flow freely, you look like a fucking porn star and Jungkook loves it. You're taking him so well he moans out loudly.

"I'm gonna fucking cum down your throat." He forces his words out and you simply take in his thrusts. With one last shove he shoots his load down your throat, you swallow around him. "Holy fucking shit, where the hell have you been all my life." His breathing was ragged as you pull off him, grinning like the slut you are. "Who knew that a princess like you loved to be treated like a whore, my whore."

He makes you stand up, you use your shirt to wipe off the drool, you avoid your tears that made makeup run down your cheeks, that's going to stain.

Jungkook kisses your pelvis as he rids you of your skort. The lace thong that matches your bra peek through and he's starting to get hard again.

He takes off his shirt and pulls you down for you to land over his shoulder. He stood up like you weigh nothing, you shriek and giggle at the way he's handling you.

He literally throws you onto the bed, but the way you landed seemed so graceful in Jungkook's eyes. So pretty, so delicate, like you were made of porcelain with the sex drive of a succubus.

His eyes were glassy, hazed from the mindblowing head he received. Crawling towards you as you scoot up to the headboard.

"Time for your prize princess." He uses his teeth to pull down your thong and expertly unclasping your bra.

"I better get my money's worth, Mr. Gold standard." He captures your lips in his before slowly kissing down on your skin, your eyes roll to the back of your head as he finds the sweet spot near your clavicle.

Your scent is addicting, what he'd give to get a taste of you everyday. He can make that happen, he will make that happen.

After all, high society is all about marrying each other to keep the weath from seeping out of your grasp. He's hypnotized by the way your chest rises and falls as he inches towards your needy pussy.

You've lost it the moment his tongue comes in contact with your folds. He wastes no time devouring you, you sound so good.

This is bad, so bad that he hasn't even fucked you properly and he already wants to marry you. Keep you close because nobody else should see what he's looking at right now.

His tongue works wonders, lips sucking on ever inch. You were chanting his name like it was a prayer. "Holy fuck baby." The petname sounds so nice coming from you.

It wasn't long until your moans become more high-pitched as you fuck yourself on his tongue. What threw you over the edge were the two fingers he inserted. You were squirting all over his face, your body shaking like a leaf.

"That was hot." He smirks up at you, putting both hands on your face as you tried to control your breathing. "You okay?" He moves up to hover over you, prying your hands away.

"I've never... I—I haven't..." Squirted but you can't seem to say it. Jungkook captures your lips again, you taste yourself.

"I'm honored, princess." He teases and you blush. How can he make you feel giddy when you literally just came all over his face.

Something inside you tell you that you'll never find another man who can make you feel like this, who can make you cum like that. No, you need this everyday.

"Jungkook." You reach down towards his erection. "I want you to fuck my brains out." Referring to your earlier conversations.

"Fuck yes baby." He dives in to kiss you with much more need than the previous one.

The tip of his head was rubbing against your opening, he was waiting for you to protest and ask him to wrap it up but you dig your heels on his ass instead.

"Fuck me." Your fingers scrape through his hair. "Please, baby." He chuckles.

"I thought you didn't beg?" He finally pushes in you, your mouth falls open but you don't make a sound other than a small squeak. "You're made for my cock. So fucking tight." He grunts.

You start begging him to go faster and harder, Jungkook happily obliges. With your thighs thrown over his shoulder, his hand wrapped around your throat, he could get used to this. You feel so good and he wasn't holding back from telling you what a good whore you are.

He lifts your ass up just a little hitting you at an angle you never knew felt so fucking good you're cumming again.

He fucks you, over and over. One orgasm after the other, you've lost count of how many. It wasn't until he spills his load all over your tits that he finally collapses next to you.

After care be damned, you both fall asleep in each other's arms covered in cum.

Your phones ring at the same time. 6pm sharp.

"Hey dad." He groans into the phone.

"Mom." You pick up your own phone.

Legs still tangled around each other as you both spoke to your parents. You both answer the same thing.

"Let me guess, dinner?" Jungkook tosses his phone on the night stand as you lay yours gently.

"Yeah, at your place." You mumble. "I think we passed out." You giggle.

"Fuck yeah we did." His bunny toothed smile. "Wanna shower together?"

With your body aching like crazy you decide to shower here. The warm bath helping you recover, of course you two fucked again.

He drops you off at your house before parking his car at their mansion next door. He waves at you as you both enter the house.

Your mom was standing by the window with a huge grin on her face.

"Did Jungkook drop you off? I though you weren't close like that?" She asks as you step up the stairs.

"Yeah, but we... We went golfing today. It was fun." You smile, and your mom simply nodded.

It was more than fun. It was definitely gold standard. The best hole in one you've had.

-----------

A/N: still debating if I should write a pt2

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 8

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.7k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, explicit sex. Top Simon Riley. Bottom Johnny MacTavish. Barebacking, oral sex - fem receiving, anal fingering, rimming. Anxiety, crying. Caretaking. Comfort. Relationship issues. Established throuple. Angst. Darling is her/your own tag and warning. The guys get back.

“Two weeks?”

Simon steps closer to where you’re stalking around in the kitchen, working a circular pattern into the floor with your pacing. “It’s not ideal-“ 

“Not ideal? It’s… it’s about to be Christmas.” your voice squeaks with disbelief, misery, heart squeezing in your chest uncomfortably. “You just got home.” The idea of facing two more long, cold weeks in the dead of winter makes your bones rattle inside your body, worsened by the fact that you’ll most likely be alone for the holidays. 

“Ah know, we know, love. But we cannae control when we’re needed. Ye know this.” The words strike true, and instantly deflate you. You do know. 

You know too well. 

“We’ll try to be home before Christmas.” Simon vows, but you shake it off. It sounds, it feels, like too much of a promise. Too much like the bitter pill of disappointment.

You shove it down as far as you can. Try to patch over the rip in your soul that’s turned into a pit, devolved into a galaxy ending black hole in your heart. 

“It’s fine.” 

“Darling.” He reaches for you, fingers moving into your line of sight, but you duck it, opting to turn back towards the cabinets, picking up the clean glassware that you were in the middle of putting away. 

“I’m fine.” Your tears lie in wait, stinging up your nose, forcing you to swallow against a shallow breath. 

“We don’t want to be away from you, you know that.” He tries, and Johnny sidles up next to you, watching with concern. You ignore them both, counting your breaths, arranging the glassware one by one, opting to focus on the task instead of the storm that’s brewing in your head. 

“I know. It’s fine.” You huff, last glass going up inside the cabinet with a rattle. Your hands are shaking, everything overwhelmed by trying to keep yourself together. 

“Darling.” Simon says again, and you brush him off, pulling the silverware caddy from the machine. The utensils jangle together, loudly, and Simon tries to get your attention again. 

You pull the drawer with a jerk, hard and fast. Smooth. 

Too smooth.

 It jumps the track and flies towards the ground, silverware and odds and ends falling to the floor, both you and Johnny lunging to catch it without success. 

It crashes across the kitchen, like thunder cracking across a night sky, a firework in the dark. 

Johnny flinches, jolting from where he crouches with a hand outstretched for the runaway drawer. Simon doesn’t startle as bad, but he squints, before relaxing. 

And then you burst into tears. 

“Fuck!” you blubber. “Fff-fuck. I’m so-sorry.” You turn with blurred vision into a thick wall of mass, Simon, who’s arms go around you immediately, strong hand on the nape of your neck. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. We’re here.” He’s soft with his words, lips pressing to the top of your head. He holds you there, murmuring in your ear, coaxing your breaths slower, promising that everything’s okay. “Bedroom lights.” He instructs Johnny, still holding you tight. 

“Rog.” Johnny replies automatically, and you shake your head in teary denial. 

“The mess.” He rebukes your protest. 

“We’ll clean it up later, darling. Let’s take care of you first.”

You hear the helicopter before you see it.

The blades whirl, cutting through the air effectively, and you try not to bounce on your tiptoes as the figures in the far distance disembark from the giant machine.

You can’t help it. You’re really excited.

There’s been something about being here waiting for them, being one of the first faces they see after they land, that absolutely delights you. It sings in your heart, making you smile and sigh, drawing you to the hangar to wait for them to come through the big, wide opening.

Johnny is first. He’s walking beside Simon, but actively looking, searching the faces that are milling about, some who are more stationary, like you, obviously waiting for something.

When he finds you, his mouth moves, body jostling into Simon’s side, and then he’s running. Sprinting.

He’s on you before you can blink, scooping you up, arms like steel curling around your thighs and hoisting you in the air hard enough that your hands come crashing down on his shoulders and his face is buried in your cleavage.

“Put me down!” You shriek with a little bit of laughter, a little bit of fake outrage.

He drops you a bit, but he doesn’t let go. Just keeps his grip around your waist, pulling your body into his, chasing your mouth with his own.

“Missed ye, darling.”

“It was only three days.” You chide, but your heart glows.

“Three days too long. Wonder if the boss‘ll let me retire. Take care o’ ye instead of doing this.”

“Oh, stop.” The protest is halfhearted, the smile that graces your face too much of a giveaway.

You half push him off playfully, still holding onto his jacket, and peek around, looking for the other piece of the puzzle.

He’s standing there, watching. The grey skull that’s pulled over his face sobers your glee, and you move to step forward, but Johnny holds you tight, mouth above your ear.

“Wait, darling. We’ll all go back tae the room, aye?” Simon nods, like he knows what Johnny is saying, even though you’re sure he cannot hear him.

“Okay.” You stay tucked up under his arm, Simon walking in lock step behind you both.

“This was suppose’ tae be a nice dinner.” Johnny grunts, and you gurgle a response around his cock, length stuffed deep in your throat. The edge of the table pinches against your skin, reminding you of exactly where you are, laid across the dinner table on your belly, bent at the waist with Johnny in front of you, Simon on his knees behind you, thumb spreading you wide for his tongue. 

“It was.” Simon assures him. His breath heats the skin of your backs of your thighs, a wet finger swirling around the tight ring of muscle between your cheeks. There are mashed potatoes on the floor next to his knees, splattered on the hard wood near the spot where the gravy is slowly trickling over the edge of the table. You feel… a little bad about it. A little guilty. Johnny worked hard on this dinner, and you truly did appreciate it, you just didn’t anticipate being the dessert. 

 “Until someone called me a liar.” 

You try to protest, but your mouth is too full. 

That’s not what you meant. You weren’t calling him a liar. You just… don’t know how to process this. How to believe. 

“We,” Simon presses a kiss to the swell of your ass, “want to keep you, darling.” Another drag of his lips, this time on the crease of your hip. “We want to take care of you.” Teeth graze along your inner thigh, tongue slicking along your skin. “We want to know you.” Fear cuts through the lovestruck, lustful haze that’s penetrated your mind, and you curl your fingers into your palms until the pressure sears with a bite. You focus on that feeling, and not the wariness that’s spreading through your body, the overthinking, the worry that grows from that one sentence: we want to know you. 

A part of you wants to float away, wants to drown in the feeling of them, disappear into the toe-curling pleasure, dip beneath the surface and never come back. 

But something winds you too tightly to let go. Something lurks in the back of your mind, whispering half-truths, half lies. 

It’s not real. They don’t want you. They don’t mean it. 

“Why don’t you believe us?” He knows you can’t answer, he must. You groan around Johnny’s cock, hot length pressed against the back of your tongue, and he blows a breath from his nose. 

Simon pushes a thick finger against your rim, feeling how you flutter for him, before going deeper, up past his knuckle, and you choke on a gasp, throat constricting around Johnny’s cock. It’s good, sinfully delicious, and you relax to allow him more, a second finger joining the first, stretching you with a sting. 

“Johnny.” Simon says his name like a command, and then Johnny’s pulling away, sinking to his knees in front of your face and cradling your jaw with a gentle hand. 

“Tell Johnny how it feels.” Simon coaches, and replaces his fingers with his mouth, tongue dipping inside of you with unrivaled skill. You melt into a heap of buttery sweetness, bones nearly liquid, legs trembling. 

“Oh, is it good? Tell me darling, use your words.” It’s a little bit mocking, a little bit sincere, with a heaping amount of adoration and lust, and he rubs a thumb across your cheekbone, soft eyes watching yours. 

“Ye-eah.” You stretch the vowels, tongue leaden between your teeth. Simon is feasting on you, like he didn’t just eat an entire dinner, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, big hand spreading one of your cheeks wide so that his entire face is buried in you. “Fuck.” 

“Can ye come like this?” You garble out the word yes, then no, then there’s nothing, just your slack jaw, Johnny disappearing from your line of sight. 

His mouth is on your cunt a second later. You pant, twisting to try to look, catching a glimpse of him under the table, opposite Simon, bent at an odd angle, tongue lapping at your clit, and his hand inside Simon’s jeans working his cock in long strokes. 

It’s circuit overload. Every connection surges to full power, lighting up your muscles, your bones, every hair on your body. You practically vibrate with it, and your knees wobble. 

“I- I… can’t!” you cry, a thumb pressing down on your clit, applying pressure in a circular motion, stroking the swollen bud in rhythm with the tongue that dips into your hole. 

“Yes, you can.” Simon pulls away, kneading your cheeks with thick fingers. “You can, darling.” 

“I can’t-t stand. My-“ You don’t get to finish before you’re being pulled from the dinner table and heaved into someone’s arms, jostling against a chest before your back hits the bed. 

Your knees are pushed back, up towards your ears, and heat crawls through your belly when you glance up at where they both stare at your fully exposed cunt. 

“Better?” The Scottish accent rasps, and you nod desperately. “Words, love.” 

“Yes! Yes, please.” You’re asking for them both, desperate for them both. You’re frantic with it, your need, your desire to be ruined by them. Possessed by them. Loved by them. 

You don’t know how to say it, can’t get the words out. They get stuck, hung up on your anxiety, your fear. 

“Darling.” Simon reads it, reads you like he always does, pulling you back towards them, grounding you. 

Your lungs shudder with a deep breath. 

“Please.”

Johnny hits the overhead light off in the room as soon as the three of you get inside.

He sits you on the bed, gently. Kissing your forehead, your temple, before pulling away and flicking the bedside light on, casting warm yellow tones around the concrete blocks.

Simon keeps his back turned, things on his body shifting, being shed, being moved, until the grey skull is being placed on the little table, and the balaclava is being shucked to reveal a scruff of hair and his wide neck.

“Simon?” You whisper, but he still doesn’t turn to you. Johnny strips his gear off as well, but watches, eyes keen. Observant. “Simon…” His shoulders loosen, tension deflating from his muscles but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t move towards you until; “I need you.”

It’s fluid, the steps, the bend, the grace of such a large body sinking to his knees in front of you, arms wrapping around your hips and then his face, smashing into your belly.

“Missed you too.” He murmurs into your skin, and you stroke your fingers through his hair delicately, careful to be slow and deliberate with your movements. You know, Simon is different for work. The grey skull. The ghost.

It can be hard on him. Hard on Johnny. Difficult for them both. For you.

The bed dips, and Johnny’s sitting at your side, leaning you into his chest. A bridge, between two. A web, connecting three.

Yours. Your family.

Hope blooms across your heart, gardens of flowers thriving under the sun of their affection, their care, their love.

Your nose, your eyes begin to burn with the promise of tears. Fuck. 

You blink them away, sniffling. The sound causes Simon to jerk, leaning back to peer at you, but your hide your face, and he hums, stroking the back of your neck.

“We’re here, darling.” You nod into him silently, basking in the overload of it all. The sweet. The bitter. The two, together.

“Ah love ye both. So much.” Johnny hums, and it makes the burn worse, the emotions rising inside of you like a tidal flood, waiting to burst through the dam.

“I love you too.” You choke, and Simon grumbles something in response, something that sounds like the three words, before he’s up on his feet, notching his mouth against yours fiercely. He clutches the back of your skull, touching his forehead to yours before moving to Johnny, kissing him sweetly and then pulling away.

“Gotta shower.” He grunts, and you flop onto your back without preamble.

Johnny sighs, curling up next to you, tugging your body into his.

“We’re gon’ to a pub tonight, Kyle, and Price. The three of us tae, ‘course.”

“M-me?” you stutter, eyebrows raised, and he smiles.

“Yes, darling. Ye too.”

The pub is extremely dark. It’s dark enough that Simon seems to be comfortable in just the black mask and hoodie, and Johnny is relaxed, nonchalant with a shoulder leaning against you, head occasionally dipping to whisper something in your ear.

You however, are not relaxed.

Your body is tight, muscles practically iron against the straight-backed chair, mouth dry. You’re out of place, out of your depth. You feel like an ornament of some sort, an adornment. It’s selfish, but you wish you still in the room with the guys, just the three of you. Together, still in that sweet, hazy in-between, floating on admissions of love and adoration.

Conversation flows around you like water, ebbing and flowing as you sip your drink, and Simon’s hand settles on your thigh, thumb stroking a semi-circle into your skin, nodding to something Kyle is saying.

“- and I just don’t want one, but she does. So, I guess we’re getting a dog.” He sighs into his beer, and Johnny snorts.

“Better than a bairn, ah suppose.” He quips. Simon tenses on your other side and then shakes his shoulders out, turning to look at Johnny before leaning in and pressing clothed covered lips to your forehead.

“Alright?” You hum, nodding your response. You’re a little anxious, sure. But otherwise, fine, besides probably needing to use the restroom. You don’t want to take away from this time they have with their friends, their coworkers.

They carry on, talking about something that sounds like work, going back and forth about some finer detail that you can't distinguish, and you drain the rest of the drink, hopping down from the bar seat to go to the bathroom.

Johnny pulls you into him, mouth bumping along your temple to whisper in your ear. “Dinnae take too long, or Ah’ll come lookin’ for ye.”

“Hey, do we still want to do-“ your sentence dies in your throat when you turn corner into the bedroom, where Simon’s got Johnny beneath him on a pillow, an ankle thrown on his shoulder, the lines of both of their bodies, flex of their muscles making your mouth water. “mussels for dinner.” They both turn to look at you, blissed out euphoria on Johnny’s face, while Simon gives you the teeniest smirk, before reaching for you with beckoning fingers. 

“How was work?” 

“Simon… fucking hell.” Johnny blurts, brow furrowed. Simon hasn’t stopped his ministrations, still slowly dragging his cock in and out of his hole, a teasing pace that has Johnny panting.

A tendril of worry snakes through you. They rarely start without you, why did they start without you? Are you interrupting? Is this- 

“Darling.” Simon breaks through your distracted thoughts, hand still outstretched, waiting for yours. When you look up into his eyes, he nods to encourage you, and pulls you closer, thumb stroking over your knuckles, hips still sawing back and forth. You bend a knee onto the bed, pressing your fully clothed body into Simon’s side, the heat of his naked skin warming you through your shirt, and Johnny’s mouth snaps shut, eyes falling dreamily on yours, sly smile scrawling across his face. 

“It was good.” You finally answer, never looking away from Johnny, glancing from where Simon’s cock is sliding inside him, to where his gaze is glassy with pleasure. Your own body responds in kind, the view of your partners loving each other making your knees feel kind of weak. 

“Someone,” Simon thrusts a little sharper, a little harder, a soft moan sounding from Johnny in response. “wanted to wait for you to get home, but couldn’t.” He speaks perfectly clear, the vocal control something you’ve always been envious of, the fact that he can carry on a conversation while he’s fucking you or Johnny deep something you’ve never understood. 

Two sides of your brain war against one another, unsettled fear and insecurity pushing to the forefront even though your body begs you to just get undressed already. You feel out of sorts, and it gnaws away inside your heart, a shadow of yourself slipping away while you watch the way Simon’s hand grips onto Johnny’s thigh. 

You shove it down. You’re being ridiculous. You’re reading too much into things, like always. You’ve had this conversation dozens of times. Sex is not exclusive to the three of you at once. Why are you getting so out of sorts? 

Simon’s mouth finds your cheek. “Where are you, darling?” He’s stopped moving, fingers stroking along the nape of your neck, the pressure soothing your raw edges, and Johnny props himself up on his elbows, face creased with mild concern. 

“I- I’m here.” You try to assure them both, desperate to keep the mood intact, but it comes out a little squeaky, a little off pitch. 

Everything grinds to a halt immediately. Simon pulls out slowly, and Johnny reaches for you without a word. You go without complaint, falling into his arms with closed eyes, trying to beat back the nonsense that’s brewing in your mind. 

Guilt roars inside your head. You ruined it. Ruined their fun. Ruined the moment. 

“I’m fine.” You protest, cuddling in close, nosing along his skin, sticky summer sweat dotting his skin like dew. “Swear.” Simon arranges you so that you’re laying flush with Johnny on your side, and then the comforter is being brought overtop the three of your bodies, soft cocoon of down feathers being tucked around your shoulders. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

They’re not at the bar when you come out.

You catch sight of Simon's out front through the only window in the entire pub, his boss, Price, holding a cigar between his lips, nodding his head thoughtfully at whatever is being said. Your jacket is gone, along with your little purse, tucked underneath Johnny’s arm, half of him visible through the same window. He’s closer to the parking lot, laughing at something with Kyle, face full and happy, so handsome it winds you, tugs a little smile onto your lips.

You’re still smiling when you slip out the front door, making your way towards the side of the pub where the four of them are loitering, no doubt waiting for you to be finished.

When you hear Simon’s voice, you stop dead in your tracks.

“It’s just hard on her, takes a toll.” Simon is talking to Price, who’s got his arms crossed and head cocked, listening intently. “And it’s hard on us too, bein’ away from her for too long. It starts to chafe us. We miss her, and she misses us, and sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing.” Your stomach drops out.

The right thing? The air suddenly feels like ice against your skin, and you hold your breath. Your relationship? He worries if it’s the right thing? 

“You’ve made it this long, it’s clear three of you love one another.” Price counters, and you can hear the depressurization of Simon’s lungs, long sigh whistling free.

“She suffers for it, for us. It doesn’t feel fair.” Your eyes go as round as globes, mouth pooling with saliva from the nausea that swamps your stomach.

You should go back inside. You shouldn’t be listening to this, eavesdropping.

You shouldn’t be doing any of this.

You shouldn’t be here.

You turn away, heel crunching against the little rocks that are scattered across the asphalt, and you swear it’s louder than a gunshot.

Simon tenses, shoulders flexing as he turns, eyes wild when they land on you.

“Darling-“ He takes a step forward, and for the first time in so long, you feel like you can’t trust him. As if doesn’t truly see you, like he always has before.

Fair? Fair? Nothing about this was ever fair. 

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to run.

“Darling, listen.” He’s closer now, voice sharp, insistent with command, and you glance past him to where Johnny is practically jogging to your side, confusion rippling across his face.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, not sure if he hears it. Not caring if he does.

You can feel a gaping hole ripping wide in your chest, in your heart. It’s tearing apart all the repairs you’ve made, destroying the effort and love that’s been painstakingly built up, and the hope that’s been fostered inside of you slowly starts to die when you look up at the two of them.

Simon’s eyes are hard with something you cannot name, Johnny’s expression rife with concern, with worry.

“Take me home.”  

[charliemwrites]

Since I’ve been going pretty hard on dark fics lately….

Who’s up for some childhood friend Simon?

In his worst moments, when he thinks of his inevitable premature and violent end, he hopes that he’ll be able to hold out long enough to die in your arms. Even if they have to fly him straight from the battlegrounds to you, lay him in the grass outside your flat, he wants your face and voice that puts him to his final sleep.

Most moments aren’t his worst moments. But he still thinks of you and prepares. Everything is going to you, of course. Price knows. You’ll get Simon’s tags, his mask, a flag. You’ll get a letter.

He started one night after you two reunited, a little drunk from a thank-fuck-we-survived post mission celebration. It’s a little wobbly and ramble in some places, but never threw it out - never reread it either. Finished it in one hour, three pages long.

He’s added onto it since then. On hard night, nights he misses you. When he’s nostalgic and tipsy, when he wakes up from nightmares soaked in your blood. It’s about 12 pages now. Different colors of ink, different types of pages. Even one slanted and awkward because his writing hand was broken so he had to use the other.

He doesn’t bring it home to you with him. Doesn’t want you to accidentally discover it and think it’s something else. It stays where Johnny will find it if the worst happens; Simon trusts him to give it to you.

He never really thought about it the other way round. Couldn’t stand to face the prospect again. Not when he can feel the bullet scar beneath your shirt sometimes, or sees you rubbing at it in cold weather.

(He doesn’t consider it his worst moments but he knows you would - that he’d crawl in that grave with you.)

But it’s almost happened again. You’re sitting caddy-corner to him at a briefing table, listening to Price as he explains the situation. Simon’s watching you watching Price. Your shoulders are relaxed, fingers fiddling with your temporary access card. Not nervous, just occupied while you focus.

You’re not worried at all. Simon feels like he’s falling apart right here. One shake of the stupid uneven table and all his pieces will just slide apart into a useless pile.

Without looking away, your hand slides across the table and hooks around his. He doesnt startle - he’s ghost right now, and ghost is rock solid - but his fingers twitch around yours. You shoot him a quick smile and then refocus on Price, picking at a worn patch on the skeleton design of Simon’s glove.

Duct tape for a collapsing soul.

Price concludes, “You’ll stay here, safe and sound with an escort.”

Simon speaks up for the first time in what feels like days.

“I’m not bein’ deployed, skipper. Not right now.”

Price snorts. “‘Course not. You’re on leave with little miss here in sweden.”

“Sweden,” Simon repeats, unimpressed. Not one of the Laswell’s better lies.

“Land of tall blondes,” you chime.

“No one else knows I’m a blond.”

You shrug. “Their loss.”

Simon snorts, you grin, and Price dismisses you both in short order.

You’re staying in Simon’s room; the captain didn’t even offer you temporary quarters. Not that you minded, happy to toss your things amongst his and climb into his bed.

He cleans his favorite gun impulsively at the desk while you futz around on his computer - probably investigating the latest set of unreleased movies he bribed from Laswell.

“You get ten minutes of brooding left and then we’re getting food and watching a movie.”

He scowls down at the magazine, oiled cloth in hand.

“I’m not brooding.”

“It’s like you have your own lighting. I swear those shadows are darker next to you.”

“That’s just how light works.”

“Oh it would have been so much cooler if you said, like, ‘I am the shadows’.”

He pauses, casts you a long, flat look. You beam.

“Ooh, yeah, with that face too! C’mon, say it!”

He blows out a dramatic breath, then grumpily repeats, “I am the shadows.”

You laugh, hopping up from the bed to approach. He shifts his gear out of the way, clearing a space for you to lean against his desk, your knee touching his.

“Im alright, Si. There’s nowhere safer I could be.”

He sets the pieces in his hands aside, flexes his fingers spasmodically.

“Could just not know me. Anywhere would be safer than knowing me.”

You click your tongue, purely derisive. “That’s stupid.”

“That’s just facts, babes.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s your guilt complex. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here.”

He arches his eyebrows - not that you’ll be able to see it past the mask. But you know him well enough to just know.

“Right here?” he challenges. “On a military base? With who fuckin’ knows out to get you? Just because you lived two doors down from me in kindergarten?”

You sigh, that one that tells him you’re employing extra patience purely out of love and experience.

“Right here, Si. Wherever you are,” you confirm.

“Should cut your losses,” he says, trying his best impression of the machine he became after he lost everyone but you. He’s never felt less protected in the mask.

As always, you see right through him.

“A bullet couldn’t take me from you, Simon Riley. The ‘Ghost’ doesn’t stand a chance.” You curl your fingers around the back of his neck, duck down until your forehead knocks against the hard mask’s. “Because it’s me n’ you ‘til the sun stops rising.”

An oath made of picked daisies and shared blood. The weight of it presses on his chest so hard he feels buried again. Layers of earth crushing him, you up above, the only heaven he knows or needs.

“Me ‘n you,” he rasps.

You let him stay like that another moment. Absorbing the warmth of your fingertips, crept beneath the edge of the balaclava. Breathing with you until he’s sure you’re synched. Heart, breath, blood, down to the firing of your neurons.

“Alright, no more brooding. You’ll feel better with some food.”

Simon exhales, sloughing off the gloom and pessimism that weighs on Ghost’s shoulders. You’re here, right here. Nothing will happen to you when he’s still breathing.

“Think I have a few more minutes.”

“Nah, it compounds when I brood with you.”

“You brood like a rainbow broods.”

You snort and flick at his mask, tugging him up with you towards the door. He lets himself settle, listening to your cheerful babble all the way to the mess.

[starryvioletnight]

Soft House MD Ship Things

Too lazy to write a fanfiction about these, here ya go.

Camteen (Cameron x Thirteen):

Thirteen likes to watch Cameron work. She likes seeing her razor sharp, focused, in charge.

Mostly because once Cameron realizes Thirteen is watching her, her face almost literally melts, becoming soft around the edges, and her eyes light up. She'll smile so big Thirteen has to look away

Thirteen dyes Cameron's hair. They have all the supplies in their home that Cameron keeps in a neat caddy under the sink. Thirteen is so methodical with her approach that Cameron has fallen asleep while her fingers are in her hair.

Cameron does make tea for Thirteen. She makes her favorite tea in the mornings, herbal tea when she's sick, something warm and cozy on fall nights... While Thirteen was already well versed in the hair dye scene, Cameron went out of her way to learn different techniques for steeping, boiling water, etc, to make the perfect cups of tea.

Choreman (Chase x Foreman)

When asked about when they got together, they pick random dates and random stretches of time, just because they don't think it's anyone's business. But they do know, and are secretly huge saps about it, buying each other 1 month, 2 month anniversary gifts, etc.

Foreman loves to game late into the night, which is usually fine cause Chase is a heavy sleeper. On the rare occasions he's woken up Chase, Chase will come to the living room and drag him to the bed for apology cuddles.

They argue about medicine a lot at work, because they have such opposite viewpoints. It's a solid rule that they don't talk about work at home, and if one says something that goes too far while working, they apologize at home and spend quality time doing something together (like playing games or cards, or cooking together, any activity really).

Everyone thinks Chase is a bigger romantic, but it isn't true. Chase is romantic in small ways; fixing the coffee before breakfast, getting Foreman his favorite snacks when shopping, helping Foreman with his half of the house work when he's too tired. Foreman is romantic in big ways; planning fancy dinners months in advance, finding time for both of them to get PTO and get away for a few days, those sorts of things.

Finally, Hilson (House x Wilson)

While not a fan of it himself, House has watched the show Fraiser all the way through because of Wilson. When Wilson looked on softly at the scene where Daphne and Niles sings Heart and Soul together while cooking, House made a mental note. Now he plays it when he's between pieces, or taps it out while thinking, because he knows it brings Wilson a small kind of domestic joy.

Of course, House's own compositions and home-recitals of the greats steal Wilson's breath away. He's careful to never over-praise, House thinking it forced after a compliment or two, but Wilson would love nothing more than to shout to all he knows how talented his lover is.

Wilson picks up small hobbies to keep him occupied, as to not work himself to death. House's favorites, and the subjects of most of his ridicule, are knitting and crocheting. Wilson loves seeing House in the things he's made, like a scarf or stocking cap when it's cold, and House likes having a physical reminder of Wilson when he isn't around.

House teaches Wilson Spanish. He knows Wilson wants to learn, but doesn't often push himself past watching telenovelas (always with subtitles on). After a rocky start, Wilson and House can have conversations in Spanish, and House feels a stab of pride whenever Wilson uses it to talk to a patient.

Their main dynamic never changes, after all that was how they got this far in the first place, but now they find saying I love you is a quick way to disarm the other; whether in the middle of bantering, pranking, arguing, anything. An unexpected I Love You sends the other reeling, relishing in the way the words come naturally, and how now, after all these years, they've finally let each other say it.

[brights-place]

Hey! I was wondering if we could get Synth and/or King Trollex with like a SO that looks scary & intimidating but is actually really nice and is basically just a huge sweetheart, but ya, if you wanna do this, take your time, HAVE A GOOD DAU

Trollex & Synth X lntimadating S/O

Pairings: Synth X Reader, Trollex X Reader (Seperate)

Warnings: Fluff, Synth being an cutie, Trollex being a cutiee X1000

A/N: Thanks for the request lovely! I have many stacked so I hope this is good enough for you

Trollex

- You were his new knight yet he found you so scary and intimidating but hey! you atleast did your job right - So when he heard you whisper to him sweetly when he was stressed "Sire you should rest from planning all these parties they could overwhelm you" he literally drop his jaw at how your voice was sweet and soft - He literally is shocked and you stare at him confused - Trollex would see you be kind and sweet yet your physical appearance scares people straight - He likes to ask about you when your on duty walking beside him in town to protect him and he loves hearing your voice - You were such a sweetheart too him

- King Trollex got to get to know you better often play pranks on one another but are actually very close

- Trollex knew you had a soft spot for certain things, such as a particular foods or an animal

- You sometimes have a certain way of acting in public that differs behind closed doors and try to befriend people but your appearance makes it hard

- Trollex and You have a special connection and when together you both act like little kids and often seen doing dumb things which makes some people confused due to well your physical appearance

- King Trollex and you have a certain nickname or inside joke between them that is special.

- Due to your appearance you have certain things that your very insecure about, and may be more self-conscious than you let on but trollex lives every part of you

- When trollex learned you had a sweet tooth and secretly love sweet snacks he bought lots when he goes out and you can’t go or it’s your off shifts

- You have certain things that they enjoy outside of battle, such as reading or a hobbie for example you knit or crochet but get teased by trollex which makes you annoyed

- You get embarrassed or even mad when your praised, but secretly appreciate it a lot more than you let on ESPECIALLY due to your partner is the KING!

- You want to make friends who share the same hobbies as you or interest but your self-conscious about and worried what others would think yet trollex likes to push you to go show people you aren’t scary and are just a big sweetheart

Synth

- You were the new caddy when setting up for raves and you looked scary as hell to synth - Your face was so relaxed but you could stare at someones soul and you would already have someones wallet and be scared

- But when you both had a conversation when setting up for a rave he was scared before his eyes sparkled when he learnt you enjoyed when he played the most at the booth cause he would do extravagant things

- Synth sees you as this sort of protective gentle person that doesn't let themself act too sweet but is actually very caring and kind on the inside

- You are such a huge sweet heart but it’s obvious trouble showing it due to your appearance even though you just want to be seen friendly

- Often times when Synth is down and scared about something which is rare you always appear ready to rescue and comfort him and takes away his worries

- You want to make friends who share the same hobbies as you or interest but your self-conscious about and worried what others would think.

- Synth likes to push you to go show people you aren’t scary and are just a big sweetheart

- Synth and you sometimes have "mini raves" together just for fun.

- Synth and you his amazing partner have a special handshake or secret hug that you both do between yourselves and it’s always fun sometimes coming up with new ones

- Synth and You have a special connection and when together you both act like little kids and often seen doing dumb things which makes some people confused due to well your physical appearance

- Synth likes to cling onto you due to well your scary stature

- Synth and you often fight with eachother playfully about dumb things

- Synth loves kissing your cheek randomly and when you smile softly at him he smiles seeing your intimidating look crumble

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Closed Doors

❥ Yandere Choi Soobin x fem reader x Kim Hongjoong

➯a/n: SPOOKY MONTH SPOOKY MONTH SPOOKY MONTH WRRRRAAAA 👻🎃 mwahaha i came back strong with this one 🫣

✃ "Watch close, don't even blink."

✫彡wordcount: 4.1k

(>ᴗ•) ♡'･ᴗ･'♡ genre: smut w (a little) plot, yandere

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not edited, stalking, drinking culture, dom joong x sub soobin x switch reader, noona/hyung kink, tipsy sex, threesum, pet names, fingering, DIIIIRTY talk, cunnilingus, corruption kink, edging, squirting, handjob, m x m, deep throating, throat bulge, snow balling, unprotected (booooooo), one slap, light degradation

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

Kim Hongjoong is everything Soobin wants to be. A strong leader. A respected producer. An ambassador. Someone to be looked up to and praised.

And you, Hongjoongs girlfriend of nearly three years, is all he wants. A loyal partner. An understanding person. A kind soul that clings to his.

He knows anything and everything there is to know about you and Hongjoong. He watches all of Hongjoongs content, he stalks you as you run errands. He knows the scent of perfume Hongjoong buys every other month and he has a caddy full of your favorite soaps. He knows how you only hold hands in the dark to avoid the paparazzi and he knows all of the sweet nicknames you call each other.

He knows how bad this could be for him should it ever get out that he's obsessed with his senior and his girlfriend. He knows first hand how badly it feels to be violated of your privacy. But he can't bring himself to stop. He can't help but bask in your existences. He needs to know more.

He needs to know the brand of condoms Hongjoong uses, if you take brith control. Does Hongjoong always take the lead like in those heated kisses he's caught glimpses of backstage, or do you like to have power in the bedroom? He needs to know if Hongjoong looks as beautiful covered in sweat in bed as he does on stage, he needs to know if your hair frames your face just as gracefully when your head is thrown back in pleasure.

    Just being a bystander isn't enough for Soobin anymore.

He needs to know what goes on behind closed doors.

彡★

The house is eerily desolate, perched atop a hill in the middle of a field. Nothing but trees and flowers and mother nature on her lonesome to witness what goes on in the lot. It was gothic in its architecture, pale in its color palette.

Despite the houses deathly aura, life rages in inside of it. Shadows of people dancing by the windows, muffled music leaking from the walls, a shout or yell every so often from a drunken party goer.

    You're clearly buzzed, Soobin can tell. You're stumbling around and gripping to the wall every so often as you move your body to the beat of the music. Hongjoong isn't around you, so he takes the opportunity to approach you. Though he gets nervous around you, his heart stops in his chest everytime his senior so much as addresses him directly.

"Binnie boy!" You cheer with a wide smile, discarding your red solo cup on the antique table behind you in favor of wrapping your arms around his slim torso. "I didn't think you made it!"

So you're an affectionate drunk. Lucky him-

His heart is beating wildly, he's never been more thankful for loud music. He can barely breathe, his arms tingling as he wraps them around your shoulders. God, you feel so warm. "H-hey, Noona. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, yeah! It's been forever since I went to a party," your hand lingers on his chest as you back away and grab your cup again, lighting his skin ablaze through the thin fabric of his costume.

After you take a swig, you offer it up to him. When he goes to shake his head, already blushing and feeling drunk on your proximity, you roll your eyes playfully and stand up on your tip toes, holding the lipstick-stained cup to his lip. "It's rude to refuse a drink," you tease, nearly cooing as he opens his lips and drinks immediately. "Good right? I think Gaeul made it."

He's not registering any of the words that are coming past your lips. His brain is going a million miles an hour as he feels the lipstick that's transferred to his lips. Sure, he has alot of the products you use but never from your own personal collection. Never from your own lips, even if it came off a secondary source. This is almost as good as when he found one of Hongjoongs sweaters at a thrift shop after watching him drop off a bag of donations.

"I found it!" Hongjoongs voice brings him back to his own body, and he's immediately frozen again as he feels the fur he knows he's wearing wrap around his shoulder. He has to be dreaming. Is he dreaming?

Hongjoong is right by his side, hip to hip with his arm stretched up and around his shoulders. "Is she teasin' you? She likes to tease when she's drunk," he chuckles, looking up and watching the younger mans face flush deeper as he stutters.

"I'm noooooot," you draw out dramatically, slipping your hand into his open fur coat and under his top. "I'm just being friendly- right, Binnie?"

He's nearly gasping for air as he watches the two of you. What in the world is going on?

"You found one?"

"Mhm," Hongjoong moves away from Soobin and drags you to the stair case, and he watches in confusion as you both stop on the second stair, your conversation hidden by the loud music and the shadows.

A few moments later, you're coming back to Soobin and grabbing his hand, "c'mon."

He can only follow the warm grip you have on his hand, blinded by how good it feels to have your skin touching his that he doesn't even notice as you lead him up the stairs to the bedrooms with Hongjoong hot on your tails.

"Wh-" The words die on his tongue as you let go of his hand and dive into the tall, elegant bed. "Non-" There they go again as he turns as sees Hongjoong latching the door locked.

You look like the angel you're dressed as as you lay down on your back, your head propped up by the pillows and your legs spread so invitingly.

"Isn't my Angel so gorgeous?" Hongjoong asks as he joins him at the foot of the bed, a smirk painting his face as he watches his ears flush pink. "Don't you just want to..." he trails off, watching in the corner of his vision as you pull the white dress above your hips teasingly slow, "fuck her dumb?"

"Hyung!"

Your giggles fill the room, and Hongjoongs follow, leaving Soobin stunned more than ever; a deer in the headlights. "Oh, c'mon Binnie," you moan as you slip your hand into your underwear, "we aren't blind."

"We see how you watch us," he finishes your thought, shrugging off his coat.

"Mhm," you nod in agreement, watching his bulge grow with his blush. "If you don't want to join us, close the door on your way out- ah!" Your laughter fills the room as Hongjoong jumps into the bed, kissing and licking at your neck.

His eyes flick between the two of you and the locked door. His mind is already made up but he doesn't want to seem too eager. He thought he was sneaky enough. How much do you both know?

"You're so wet just from teasing him," Hongjoong purrs as he slips his fingers into your bare heat, your skimpy panties discarded at the edge of the large bed.

He almost immediately starts pumping his fingers into your wetness, purposefully slapping his palm against your clit to create more lewd sounds. Soobins head is spinning. His eyesight is blurring, but at the same time he can see your face twisting in pleasure so clearly. He's crawling into the bed instinctively to get a closer look, his brain can't comprehend the amount of hormones that are flooding him. From your feet, he can see the wetness on Hongjoongs fingers as he pulls them out briefly before they dive back into you.

"Staying?" Hongjoong grins as he looks over his shoulder, slowing his fingers to give him a good showing of your wetness. He only nods in response, eyes never leaving your puffy clit and sopping hole.

"Ngh-" He moans as Hongjoongs free hand grips the back of his neck, forcing him face to face with your core. The sound of his fingers pressing against your walls paired with the scent of your arousal nearly makes him come undone the second the tip of his nose grazes your clit.

Your hand comes down and pets his head almost innocently, and he looks up your heaving torso to see you as you speak vulgarly, "have you ever eaten a pussy before, Binnie?"

       He shakes his head, the tip of his nose still forced against your clit by Hongjoongs grip.

      "She'll get you addicted," Hongjoong moans lowly at the thought of his own tongue on you, he can taste the memories, "she's fucking delicious."

He lays on his stomach between your legs, next to Hongjoong whos straddling your thigh. "H-how?" He forces his voice out, his hot breath fanning you.

"Show him how, Baby," you prop yourself up on your elbow and wiggle your hips, smirking at the two of them. "Show him how to eat pussy like a real man."

Hongjoongs slips his fingers out of you and sucks them clean as he positions himself next to Soobin, rubbing down his back sensually. "Watch close, even blink."

"Oka-" He's left speechless once again as his tongue darts out and laps up and down the length of your heat, pointing and circling your clit before diving into you and all over again. He listens to his Hyung, though he doesn't know if it's even intentional. He wouldn't blink if his eyes were dryer than the Sahara.

His skilled tongue skims and rubs and fucks all of the right places, not a single part of you left untouched as he moans into you. "Oh, fuck, Joongie," you squeal, thighs trembling briefly before they lift of the bed and press into them.

He pulls away and pushes the thigh that's pressing into him back down, nodding at Soobin to do the same. His slender fingers dig into your skin softly as he copies him, pressing your leg back into the soft sheets.

"No," you whine, "so close!"

"C'mon Princess don't be selfish, let our guest have a taste before you squirt all over us, hm?"

"Squirt- squirt? You squirt Noona?" He pants breathlessly. He doesn't know how he's going to survive.

You chuckle softly, head tossed back as you rub your wetness on his chin, getting oh so close to his lips. "Make me cum and you'll find out, Binnie. Go on, do what Joongie showed you."

He sticks his tongue out tentatively and flicks it across your clit. The high moan you let out. The taste of you. Hongjoongs burning gaze on him. It's so. Fucking. Good.

He copies all of Hongjoongs movements, it's not hard to. The image of his tongue working against your wet skin is burned into his memory and he will never let it go. He whines into your cunt, pressing his face closer as he savors your juices, his eyes fluttering shut as his hips grind against the bed on their own. His mind is gone from his body, his entire being washed in pure pleasure. He's so far gone that he doesn't register that your both turning on your sides, your legs sandwiching his face as you moan and groan.

      He feels Hongjoongs hands unbuttoning his pants, and he lets him. No way in any universe is he doing anything that will stop this moment. His length is engulfed in his warm hand, and the vibration of his moan is enough to send you over the edge, flooding his face and neck in your release and clenching your legs around his head tightly. The curses that fall off your trembling lips go unheard by the eager young man, who could nearly be drowning in the amount of fluids that you're washing him in, in the pleasure that Hongjoongs hand is giving him.

"Fuck, Binnie! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Son of a bitch- holy shit!" Hongjoong laughs, finally pulling his wet face away from you. His eye flutter open, his pupils blown way out of proportion. He pants, bucking his hips into Hongjoongs stilled hand.

"Ngh, Hyung," he whimpers, melting as he resumes stroking his length, "you were right, she's so delicious!" He licks his swollen lips, sliding onto his back and watching his slender hand pump up and down, blissfully unaware as you slip out from behind him and remove your clothes. "Oh my god," his eyes roll back into his head, and just before the pressure inside of him can snap, the warmth of his hand is gone. "No, no! Hyung!" His cock twitches in the air, hips bucking wildly.

"Shhhh," he shushes him softly, holding his hips down to the bed, kissing his jaw lightly, "don't you want to let it out inside your Noona? There's nothing else like it, Binnie."

You join them once again, on the opposite side of Hongjoong, naked body curled up to Soobins side. "All warm and wet, nice and inviting."

A whiny moan chokes him, jaw dropped as he nips his ear lobe, your fingertip swirling around his nipple. "F-fuck, please."

"Not yet," you whisper, "you'll cum the second you feel my hot pussy. Calm down a bit."

Both of your warmth is gone, and he opens his eyes. They widen at the scene infront of him.

Your naked body, all out in the open as your face is in Hongjoongs lap, ass in the air. His thick, veiny member resting on your flushed cheek as you fondle his balls.

"Is it everything you dreamed of, Soobin?" He grins as you take his cock down your throat, years of practice having paid of. "Isn't my girl the fucking best? Look at that," he coos as he points Soobins gaze to your throat, an the outline of him pressing out of your skin, "see how she takes it? Mmm fuck. If your lucky, maybe one day she can take that long, pretty cock of yours."

You moan around him, peering over at Soobin. He slides closer immediately and leans into your neck, taking in a deep breath of the smell of sex that comes from you. "Fuck," he groans, cock aching for attention. But Hongjoong is right, he wants to save it for you. He wants to know what Hongjoong gets to feel everytime you fuck. "Everything and more." He kisses your neck, and the feeling of his lips through your throat makes Hongjoong feral.

He grips the back of your head, thrusting deep into your throat with a short and fast pace. The sound of your throat contracting around his cock fills the room, even over the muffled music. Your spit flies out of your stretched lips, soaking his smooth pelvis. "Do that again," he growls quietly, free hand pressing Soobins face into your neck.

And he does, he licks and sucks at your neck, like he's trying to suck Hongjoongs cock just as much as you are. "Mhmp!" Your arousal drips down your legs, your hole clenches around nothingness as you steady yourself on his thighs.

The amount of attention you've been receiving tonight already has you back on the edge, teetering as your boyfriend chokes you on his cock and his handsome junior sucks hickeys in your skin. Your head is fuzzy with oxygen deprivation and arousal.

     You can feel his body tightening beneath you, and you get ready to swallow his release when he tugs your hair roughly. "Don't swallow, Angel," and with that, he pulls your mouth back to envelop just his tip and floods your mouth with his sweet seed, head tossed back and a bead of sweat dripping down his chin, chest heaving as he moans, "let him have a taste."

     He tenderly helps you up, positioning your face above his and smirking as he opens his mouth wide. The mix of saliva and cum leaks into his awaiting mouth, and a string of moans from all of you builds your arousal to an all time high. He gulps it down greedily and watches you intently as you move to straddle his hips.

You lick your lips clean, taking a peek at Hongjoong. He gives you a nod and grips the base of Soobins cock, holding it upright as you sink down on it. "Oh- oh shit," he bites his lip, eyes flicking from your blissful face to your sopping hole as you slowly descend to Hongjoongs member twitching back to life.

"Don't you dare cum, ladies first," Hongjoong fixes Soobins hair back and rubs his thumb on his lips.

"Al-alright- fuck! Oh fuck!" He whines loudly as you begin riding him mercilessly, clenching his gut as his brain begs for the flood of dopamine that it knows will come with filling your cunt in the most primal way. "Fuck, please! Noona! Noona!" He screams, hips bucking wildly and making his cock reach depths inside of you that haven't been touched by another person since you met Hongjoong. He doesn't stretch you as good as he does, but God does the slight pain as he rearranges your guts feel heavenly.

"How does it feel?" Hongjoong inquired, slipping his hand around your hips and circling his finger tips around your swollen clit.

"So good!"

"S'good!"

Both of you chime together, bodies bouncing on the soft mattress. "Oh, Joongie! You were right," you draw out in a moan, "he's so- ah! So big!"

"Ride him, Princess, ride that big cock," he smirks at him over your shoulder before diving in and sucking darker hickeys over the ones Soobin left. It's definitely a show of dominance, telling him not to get too comfortable in his girlfriends cunt. But he does. Not. Care.

He'll find an in eventually, for now he's content to hold onto your hips as you ride him like a mad woman.

"Noona," he whines highly, rutting into you desperately, "please let me!"

"Let you?" You question dizzily, rocking your hips into Hongjoongs fingers as they continue their assault on your clit.

"L- ah! Fuck, I'm sorry, Noona, I can't help myself anymore!" He thrashes, locking his arms around you and flipping you around. He cages you underneath him and slams back into you, banging his hips onto yours and burying his face in your chest as he clings to you.

Hongjoong crawls up to your face, cradling it gently as Soobins rough thrust toss you around. "You gonna let him cum in your pussy? That's my pussy, you know that?" He slaps your cheek softly, a large grin on his face. "Dirty Angel, you're enjoying having this freak in your cunt," he kisses you deeply and moans, pulling back and gripping Soobins hair roughly.

"Listen to me," he sneers, "you can fuck us silly all you like, you little horn-dog. But this is my girl. And I'm her man. Got that?"

      "Y-yes, Hyung!"

    "Good," he pushes his head away and goes back to you, fondling your breasts as he licks your ear, whispering something that Soobin can't hear over the pounding of his hips on yours, especially not combined with the music growing louder in his overstimulated mind.

Your moans are growing louder and louder, more frequent as he plunges into you rapidly. "O-oh shit..." You screw your eyes shut and bite your lip, and from his place looking down on you, Soobin wishes he had photographic memory. It's everything he ever made it up to be and more, and more, and more...

A broken moan rips out of your throat as you clench on him like a vice, squirting with each of his thrust as he ravages you. And that's all he needs to let loose, an orgasm like no other washing over him and soaking your insides, shutting his brain off as it floods with unimaginable pleasure.

He collapses into you, clinging to you for dear life as his hips continue driving into you with a mid of their own.

"Feels fucking amazing, huh?" Hongjoong chuckles, rubbing your heads simultaneously as he pries Soobin off of you. He straddles him carefully and slips his hands under his top. "Hope you've got some more energy for me, pretty boy."

彡★

       He stands as silent as a mouse and grabs his phone, eyes raking the two of you darkly as he searches for the perfect angle to capture you in your fullest beauty.

      Hongjoongs arm is draped over your naked chest like he subconsciously knows to protect your modesty from what's about to come, his ring catching the dim moonlight as he cups the side of your breast.

     He snaps a picture of your torsos and arms all mingled together, thankful that the lamp was left on so that he didn't have to risk the flash waking you. He knows you're a light sleeper.

    With a lick of his lips, he zooms in on his always noticeable bulge. It strains against his boxers even as he's flaccid and snuggles against your hip innocently.

He doesn't know when it got to this point. He doesn't care, frankly. He just wants in, he wants in- he wants in now. He wants to sleep in that cozy nest of a bed that he knows you make up every morning after cuddling your boyfriend all night. Seonghwa once told him about it and how you had to strip the bed of all your pillows and blankets and plushies so that Hongjoongs vlogs didn't share something that you felt so intimate about, he hasn't got to see it yet but he wants it so badly. He wants to spoil you with plushies to add. He wants to fuck you until you squirt on it all freshly made just to mark it with your scent and drive in the fact that he makes you cum like a lover.

     His soft panting fills the quiet air as he snaps a photo of the way your finger tips are pressed into the elastic band on Hongjoongs boxers.

He doesn't care that it's crazy. He just wants to be apart of you, and every little thing only adds to it.

     He leans one knee on the edge of the bed and snaps a close up of your bruised hips, the forming colors, to remind him of how well it felt to hold them as they boucned.

   He turns the focus to your face. You're the one he has the least photos of despite the fact that you're the one he's most obsessed in love with. You look so peaceful in your sleep, lips parted as you breath softly, a small smile twitching at the edges that he immediately snaps a photo of. You must be dreaming of him.

He. Doesn't. Care.

    He snaps photo after photo after photo after photo after photo of you. His girl. The lines on your soft, exposed stomach. Your fluffy sock clad feet. Your slightly swollen lips with his thumb carefully placed between them. The way you suck on it subconsciously. Your hair, the baby hairs that fall from the sloppy way you put it up. Every single freckle and mole and embellishment on your skin. Your thighs. Oh good God your thighs, he could die a happy man between them. The way goosebumps raise on your skin as he trails his fingers tips all over you. Your neck which still has his marks no matter how hard Hongjoong tried to cover them. Picture after picture after picture after picture until his camera betrays him and tells him he has only a little storage left to document your adorable, unconscious state.

Soobin

Does

Not

Care

     He backs up and gets every single piece of you both in frame for one last photo. Of the way the two of you meld together. His precious, stupid lovers.

     He will be apart of you. And this is only the beginning.

He got a glimpse of what goes on behind closed doors.

Now you'll never get rid of him.

[plus-low-overthrow]

Alan Caddy Orchestra & Singers - Family Affair (Avenue)

wrt. Sly Stone, 1971.

[pupsmailbox]

DEATH︰REAPER ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abaddon. achlys. acrimony. adrienne. agnes. ajax. altar. ambrosia. angel. annika. apollo. ash. atticus. autopsesse. autopsette. autopsie. autopsy. azrael. bellona. blair. blaise. bones. brains. bram. cadaver. caddie. cain. carrion. casimir. casper. cassius. catalyst. catrina. charon. ciaran. claud. claude. claudia. coraline. cryonic. damion. dawn. deathe. deathesse. deathette. decease. demise. desdemona. desmodus. dolores. doom. draven. drow. edward. emeric. engel. ephraim. ether. ethereal. eve. exigent. fatesse. fatette. gareth. grave. graves. gravesse. grim. grime. grimes. grimesse. grimm. grimme. gwendolyn. hades. jesper. kilian. laud. lilith. lily. lola. lorelai. lucien. lucifer. lurk. macabre. maggot. magnus. mallory. mara. marie. marion. marionnette. martyrdom. mel. monody. morena. morgan. morganna. morgue. moribund. mort. morte. mortesse. morticia. mortimer. mortis. mortisse. mortuary. mortue. mortum. muer. murdock. myrtle. nikola. noire. noirette. nox. orpheus. perdita. perish. persephone. perseus. phantom. pierce. plague. plaguette. plaugesse. pluto. priscill. pyre. ran. reaper. reapesse. reapette. rhys. rigorre. rose. sacrifesse. scy. scythe. scythette. selene. seraph. sic. smierc. specter. thanatos. thorn. vacuous. valentine. vamp. vampyr. vendetta. vessel. victor. viktor. vincent. wounde. woundesse.

PRONOUNS ⌇　abyss/abyss. angel/angel. bite/bite. blade/blade. blood/blood. bo/bone. bone/bone. brain/brain. bur/burial. cad/cadaver. ci/cir. coffin/coffin. cor/corpse. crow/crow. dae/daem. dae/daemon. dea/death. dead/dead. death/death. decay/decay. dem/demise. die/dire. doom/doom. dust/dust. end/ending. fang/fang. fatality/fatality. fate/fatal. fog/fog. fright/fright. gho/ghost. ghoul/ghoul. gore/gore. grave/grave. grave/yard. graveyard/graveyard. gri/grief. grief/grief. grim/grim. guide/guided. holy/holy. hunt/hunt. ick/ick. kill/kill. leth/lethal. lo/loss. morbid/morbid. mort/mort. mortician/mortician. mourn/mourn. necro/necrom. night/night. omen/omen. pain/pain. para/paranormal. per/perish. plague/plague. reap/reap. reap/reaper. reaper/reaper. rebirth/rebirthed. rot/rot. rot/rotten. sacrifice/sacrifice. scy/sycthe. scythe/scythe. skull/skull. slay/slay. soul/soul. spec/spectral. suff/suffer. thy/thy. tomb/entombed. tomb/tomb. tragic/tragic. vamp/vamp. wilt/wilt. wound/wound. zomb/zomb. ☠️ . ⚰️ . ⛓️ . 👻 . 💀 . 🩸.

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

Fever

A fic based on @cinnamontoastcroonch ‘s take on Cadenza’s perspective during Laurance’s de-Shadow Knighttaion induced fever, but from Aphmau’s perspective

Aka: Laurance has a really bad fever, hallucinations a bit and everyone is panicking

CW: Sickfic, fever whump, thoughts of death, mention of hallucinations

At first she didn’t notice. She’d nodded off sitting in the rickety wooden armchair next to Laurance’s bed. Her arm was beginning to fall asleep as she rested her head on it, when suddenly she heard the soft rustling of sheets. Her head shot up to see his face, scrunched in agony, beads of sweat running down his pale skin. His eyes fluttered open hardly half way, hot tears falling to his ears. His breaths quickened and all she could hear was a pathetic whine escaping from his soul. Aphmau was willing herself not to panic. Not yet. She could tell he was hurting, she needed to comfort him, make him feel ok.

“No, no no. Shh shh. It’s alright. You’re ok Laurance. I’m here. I’m right here. I got you.” Despite her best efforts, her voice broke a bit and she became chocked up. She hoped he didn’t notice. Aphmau raised a hand to his cheek to verify a fever. Oh gods he’s burning up. This is bad. She wiped some tears from his cheek as she stood, rushing off to the basin on the window sill. She dunked a rag in the cool water and rung it out before returning to Laurance and placing it on his forehead and eyes. A sudden gasp fell from his mouth as he tipped his head away from the sudden attack of cold. “I know, I’m sorry, but you’re burning up! We need to cool you down.” Aphmau could not keep her voice from wavering, she was beginning to panic.

Aphmau grasped Laurance’s clammy hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He seemed to calm a bit after that, Aphmau thought maybe he’d be able to sleep now. But after a while, Laurance spoke softly. “Why’s.. he here..? He- Aph I-“ Before she could do any more, he attempted to sit up. A long groan escaped him before he collapsed back into bed. “Laurance!” he was shaking, shivering maybe. Aphmau needed help, she didn’t know what else she could do for him. Her magicks hadn’t been working, no matter how hard she tried.

Aphmau let down Laurance’s hand and ran to the door, though before she could open it, Garroth stepped in. “Garroth! Garroth, he woke up! Laurance woke up! But,” she was talking a mile a minute, “but he’s out again. Shaking! I need to find Cadenza! I don’t know what else to do!” Before Garroth could even get a word in, Aphmau was gone, the door bouncing closed behind her.

“Cadenza! Cadenza I need you!” Cadenza set down the flowers she planned on buying and turned around, a look of fear on her face. “…Is it Laurance or Eseryt?” Aphmau could tell by the look on her face that she was dreading the answer. Aphmau took a moment to catch her breath, “He woke up. Bad fever, asking weird questions. Cadenza he needs you.”

Cadenza wasted no time, practically running to his bedside. When they arrived he was awake; shaking, looking around the room wildly, on the verge of tears. Garroth practically had to hold him down to keep him in bed. Cadenza went to Laurance, taking his hand and speaking quiet words to him that Aphmau couldn’t fully make out.

“D’you see him?” Laurance sounded so weak. He looked so weak. Aphmau had never seen him like this. Not even after he returned from the Nether. At least then he was more aware, less delirious. “Who, Laurance?” “…Joh.”

Aphmau’s heart dropped into her stomach. She could tell that everyone’s did. Garroth stepped back, finger nails digging into his crossed arms. Cadenza’s eyes widened, a hand going to her mouth to stifle a sob. Aphmau was in shock. All she could do was stand and watch this unfold. Is this really happening? Is Laurance…Oh gods..

“Laur. Joh’s… He’s.. He’s not here.” Aphmau could hear the lump forming in Cadenza’s throat, as the pain of one forming in her own made itself known.

“Caddy… I.. Are they here for me.?” he paused a bit longer than anyone would hope for, “Am I… Dying?” His voice was so small, too small. Weak and hoarse and filled with fear and pain. He starred into the void, eyes glazing over and unfocused.

Garroth turned to face the wall, unable to bare the sight of Laurance like this any longer. Aphmau could no longer keep the sob from escaping her throat, though she managed to stifle the tears.

Cadenza squeezed her eyes as a tear rolled down her red cheek before resting her other hand atop of Laurance’s. “Of course not. You still have so much ahead of you Laurance. So much. You have yet to even meet your daughter. Remember? Lina?” Laurance didn’t answer, only closing his eyes as he slowly gave a single nod, a barely visible smile resting on his cracked lips.

At that Aphmau came back to his side, opposite of Cadenza. She leaned over and gave him a long kiss on the forehead. She didn’t know what else she could do. She just got him back and now she might lose him again? This time permanently? Gods no, please. He doesn’t deserve this, he never did.

————————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed that and that your heart is shattered :D

It’s ok he pulls through. They just don’t know that.

[sslowdeathh]

requested by @yourdarlingness. These were really fun to find; I hope you like them as much as I do!

Grimm. Grime(s). Muer. Sic. Laud. Vacuous. Acrimony. Exigent. Ether. Smierc. Azrael. Altar. Scythe. Thanatos. Mortum. Mortue. Morgue. Mortuary. Ash. Decease. Demise. Catrina. Catalyst. Moribund. Demise. Doom. Autopsy. Martyrdom. Caddie. Cadaver. Carrion. Cryonic. Monody.

Reap reaper reapers. Scythe scythes. Death deaths. Die dire. Doom dooms. Per perish. Rebirth rebirthed. Dem demise. Fate fatal. Grave graves. Grave yard. Graveyard graveyards. End ending. Cad cadaver. Leth lethal. Dae daemon. Angel angels. Soul souls. Guide guided. Suff suffer. Pain pains.

Dyingness. Undrwrld. Reanimatorr. Necrosis. Post-Mortem. Nondying. Faydom. Permadeath. Deadlihood. Mortally. Deathlike. Suadade. Mortician. Mortification. Deathward. Dust-bitten. Cold-blooded. Dissolution. Antideath. Instadeath. Deathcare. After-death. Deathblow. Asphyxia. Lost-life. Cross-over.

[word]death, death[word], [word]kill, kill[word]: an easy format that'd probably work for most things!

The reaper of life. The darker darkness. Death incarnate. The lover of negativity. The never ending tragedy. The unavoidable (end). The mercy for the weak. The shadow in the dark. He who guides the dead. The bridge (between life and death). The angel of light and dark. The contradictory. The unfathomable. The enigmatic. The spokesman for the desolate.

[hexpea]

Ch. 3 - White Lilies White Lilies are known to be a funeral flower, representing purity, rebirth, and rejuvenation of the soul.

As you walked through the hallways of the Zenin estate, the tension that had built up during the meeting slowly dissipated. Daisuke glanced at you, concern evident in his eyes. "How did the tour with Naoya go?" He inquired with a gentle voice.

You sighed and looked to the ceiling in exasperation as you made your way toward your guest room, the dim lights overhead doing little to ease your nerves. "It was as expected," you replied with a tinge of frustration in your tone. "He's not pleased with the arrangement, and he's already suspicious of my involvement in Naohiro's death. I need to be careful."

Daisuke nodded solemnly, mirroring your concern. "We knew this wouldn't be easy. The Zenin clan is powerful, Naoya included. Stay vigilant, Y/N...especially if you truly plan on staying here."

"Don't worry," you chuckled darkly as the two of you rounded a corner, "I'll use my mother's Fujiwara blood well. No need to worry about me, Uncle."

Arriving at the guest quarters, you and Daisuke began the task of laying out futons for the night. The room itself was considerably large, as expected for such an estate. Your suitcases had already been delivered by attendants and sat in the corner of the room, off the tatami mats and on the hardwood flooring that laid beneath. Daisuke moved swiftly to open a nearby cabinet that contained the futons. He handed one to you and you gave a small nod as thanks, the silence providing a momentary sense of peace. The two of you silently readied for your night in enemy territory. After setting up your futons apart from one another, you began to gather your things from your suitcase for a shower when Daisuke broke the silence with a contemplative question as he affixed the space heater to a nearby plug in the wall.

"Do you think you can endure this until the right moment?" He asked, his gaze fixed on you as he grabbed his own things from his suitcase for the night.

You met his eyes, determination shining through as you clutched your caddy of shower items. "I have no choice, Daisuke. We have to play the long game. Naoya may be cunning, but I won't let his arrogance blind him to the threat I pose. Just...remind my father that I need time."

Daisuke nodded, a mix of understanding and worry etched on his face. "Anything you need, you just tell us. Your father and I won't let you face this alone."

You gave Daisuke a determined nod and exited the guest room and into the dimly lit hallway. It was an eerie sensation being out in the hallway alone, something about the air of the Zenin estate made your hair stand on end. The flickering lights above you cast shadows that danced along the walls as you briskly walked toward the nearest bathroom. The encounter with Naoya during the tour still lingered in your mind, but you did your best to maintain a facade of calm determination.

As you rounded a corner, you nearly collided with the man himself, who had been seemingly wandering the halls. Your breathing hitched the moment you saw him and halted in your tracks before you could run face-first into his chest. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He regarded you with suspicion, the corner of his frown turning into a predatory smirk.

"Going somewhere, princess?" Naoya's tone dripped with skepticism as he stepped closer, blocking your path. "Wandering the halls alone at night? Not the behavior of a submissive bride, I must say."

You rolled your eyes, determined not to let his presence unnerve you. "I'm on my way to take a shower, Zenin. I'm sure you're not concerned about my evening rituals. I'm perfectly capable of handling bathing on my own. I don't require constant supervision."

Naoya's eyes gleamed with continued skepticism, his tall frame invading your personal space. His tone dropped to a seductive murmur, laced with arrogance. "Oh, Y/N, you're underestimating the dangers that lurk in this household. It would be a shame if something were to happen to you. After all, you're just a guest here."

Brushing past him, your patience waning, his predatory gaze followed your every move. "Like I said, I can handle myself," you retorted again, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes a second time. "Your concern is unnecessary, Zenin."

He let out a low, mocking chuckle, trailing behind you as you continued down the hallway. "Let's get one thing straight, you disobedient, little wench," he said, his voice dropping even lower. "Once we're married, don't harbor any illusions like you did with my brother. This won't be a fairy tale. I won't be your knight in shining armor, and I won't relinquish my freedom for your comfort. This is not a love story, and I suggest you accept that."

You stopped and turned to face him, an amused smirk playing on your lips. "Rest assured, Zenin-sama," you replied, emphasizing the title with a hint of sarcasm. "I have no delusions. I don't expect you to be my prince charming and I certainly won't be waiting for you to sweep me off my feet."

Naoya's eyes flashed with irritation. "Good," he purred, his tone filled with arrogance. "It's crucial you grasp your insignificance in this arrangement. Your fantasies are inconsequential in this world. You're here to serve a petty purpose, nothing more."

You placed your hand on the handle to open the bathroom door and looked directly at him. "Your expectations are crystal clear, Naoya," you replied, your voice carrying a subtle edge. "I understand perfectly the purpose I serve. Can't you Zenin's be a bit less dramatic?" You sighed with a hint of weariness to your tone. "I'm just trying to take a shower in peace, not plotting a coup."

Naoya's piercing gaze bore into you as he nearly pinned you against the closed bathroom door. His fingers gently grazed your arm, a paradoxical combination of threatening and oddly comforting. The look in his eyes as he stared down at you seemed dangerous. "First my brother and now me," he muttered, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. "It seems almost too convenient, doesn't it?"

Rolling your eyes, you brushed off his touch, but the proximity sent a shiver down your spine as he remained in place. "Don't flatter yourself, Zenin. I'm not here to wreak havoc. Your suspicions are unfounded."

Naoya's glare intensified, but for a brief moment, his mask of skepticism faltered. "I know you were infatuated with Naohiro," he admitted, his tone less accusatory and more matter-of-fact. "But that doesn't absolve you of any potential guilt. Love and duty often clash, and in our world, duty trumps all."

How much has he already figured out?! You thought to yourself while trying to maintain a facade of indifference.

You met his gaze with an arched eyebrow. "So, you're acknowledging that there might be more to our arrangement than a mere power play?"

Naoya leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear to where you could feel the heat of his breath against your neck, his words a whispered confession. "We're burdened with the expectations of our clans. Sentimentality is a luxury we can't afford. Don't mistake understanding for sympathy, Y/N."

His touch lingered for a moment longer before he stepped back, the connection severed. As he turned away and continued down the hallway, you couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of resentment and understanding. Both of you were descendants to great jujutsu clans, burdened by duty, and locked in a complex dance of power.

Naoya stormed into his cousin Jinichi's study, his frustration palpable as he slammed the shoji door shut behind him. Jinichi glanced up from his paperwork, a look of mild annoyance crossing his features before he schooled his expression into neutrality.

"What's got you in such a foul mood this time, Naoya?" Jinichi asked in a monotone voice, his eyes flickering with disinterest.

Naoya paced back and forth across the room, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "That bitch is back," he spat out venomously, his lip curling in disgust.

Jinichi raised an eyebrow, his tone indifferent as his gaze fell back down to the pages of reports on recent cursed spirit exterminations. "Ah, I see. Y/N, is it?"

Naoya shot him a glare. "Yes, Y/N," he growled. "I thought we'd never have to see her again after Naohiro's pathetic death." Jinichi rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair with a bored expression and watched as Naoya continued to pace. "And now I'm supposed to marry her," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "It's ridiculous. What does Father hope to gain from this stupid alliance anyway? The Kamo clan is nothing but a bunch of corrupt weaklings."

Jinichi's gaze hardened, a hint of warning in his voice. "Watch your tongue, Naoya. The Kamo clan has the favor of the higher-ups. Remember, our clan isn't exactly in their good graces."

Naoya scoffed, dismissing his cousin's words with a wave of his hand. "I don't care about those politics," he spat out bitterly. "I care about power, and this marriage is nothing but a hindrance."

Jinichi sighed, his patience wearing thin. "You can't always have things your way, Naoya. That's the price you pay for being the heir."

Naoya shot him another glare, his arrogance unyielding. "I refuse to be shackled to that weakling."

Jinichi shook his head, his tone resigned. "Stubborn as ever, I see. But you know better than anyone that you need to listen to Naobito."

Naoya grumbled under his breath, his fists still clenched in frustration. "I'll do what I must to ensure our clan's dominance," he muttered darkly. "Even if it means temporarily marrying that insufferable bitch."

Jinichi merely nodded, knowing that trying to reason with his cousin was futile.

After the intense encounter with Naoya in the hallway, you hurriedly took your shower, the warm water doing little to wash away the weight of the day's events. The cool air of the Zenin estate clung to your damp skin as you made your way back to the guest quarters.

Upon entering the room, you found Daisuke lying in his futon, engrossed in a book. He glanced up as you entered, his eyes filled with concern. The dim light cast shadows on the lines of worry etched into his face. Silently, you put away your shower caddy and carefully folded the kimono you were previously wearing. As you slid into your own futon, Daisuke broke the silence, his voice gentle but laden with concern.

"Y/N, tomorrow's wake... Are you going to be okay?" He asked, his head slightly turned in your direction as he laid positioned away from you.

You faced away from him, your hands cradled beneath your cheek as you tried to immediately find sleep despite the lamps in the room being on. "I'll manage, Uncle. It's part of the duty I carry as a Kamo."

Daisuke sighed, a sound of empathy and sorrow in that breath. "I know it must be hard for you, especially considering your history with Naohiro."

You squeezed your eyes tighter and curled up in your futon, your tone cold and composed despite what you were internally feeling. "It was necessary," you whispered, your voice betraying the turmoil within. "I did what had to be done for our family. Not to mention it's in my blood..."

Daisuke sat up slightly and placed a hand on your shoulder from across the space between your futons. "Y/N, I understand the weight of duty, but it's okay to grieve. You loved him once. Even your father understands...and is proud of you."

With a sudden jerk, you pulled away from his touch. "Grieving won't change anything. I made a choice, and I stand by it." You shifted further away from him in your futon, feigning indifference. "I appreciate the sentiment, Daisuke. But I don't need your pity right now."

Daisuke sighed again and turned back over. He switched off the nearby nara lamp, casting the room in a heavy darkness. In the silence, you let your quiet tears fall down your cheek, hot grief pouring out onto your pillow. You clenched your blanket tight as you took deep breaths to prevent any sound from escaping your lips. You didn't need Daisuke on your case about your emotions. You had trained yourself well, night was the only time anything other than stone-cold stoicism could come out.

Duty, love, loss...all three overwhelmed you as you grappled with the consequences of your actions. Naohiro's face haunted your thoughts, a bitter reminder of the sacrifices demanded by the world of jujutsu sorcery and petty clan affairs. Eventually, exhaustion claimed you, and the quiet sobs gave way to the solace of sleep, if only temporary.

The morning sun cast a solemn glow over the Zenin estate as the day of Naohiro's wake dawned. Dressed in traditional mourning attire, you stood amidst the gathering crowd. The funeral ceremony itself was a somber affair, and you sat through it with a stoic expression, eyes fixed on the casket that held the remains of the man you once loved, dead by your own poison all because of a creature with the ability to mimic.

As the ceremony concluded, you joined the procession to the wake, flanked by Naoya, his brothers, and his father. The air was thick with sorrow, the subdued murmur of condolences swarmed around you. The wake itself was held in a grand hall adorned with mourning banners and flickering candles. The room was filled with soft chatter among the friends and family that came to pay their respects.

Having to stand by Naohiro's casket so that the guests could pay their personal respects to you and his immediate family was a challenge in itself. You did your best to maintain a calm demeanor but inside you were reeling with conflict. You loved Naohiro but duty demanded you kill him, and so it happened -- as far as your family was concerned. And you were about to have to do it again -- though considering who Naoya was, you thought that it may be easier with a man like him. But that thought wasn't enough to pacify the genuine tears that formed at the corners of your eyes.

Naobito seemed to wear his grief like armor. His eyes, heavy with sorrow and perhaps a touch of disdain, scanned the crowd. The sorrow behind his dark eyes was a bit startling to you seeing as the drunkard usually held little to no emotion other than sheer indifference -- even toward his own children. As Naobito scanned the crowd, his eyes landed on a certain pair he had been waiting to see. Your father and step-mother arrived, offering their condolences. Your father led the way as your step-mother, who was even a few years younger than you, remained silent with her head low behind him. The tension between your clans had always been present, the marriage alliance doing little to ease said tensions despite the agreement. Your father exchanged formalities with Naobito with a strained politeness.

"Ah yes, the Kamo clan head," Naobito's voice was cutting. "How rare it is to see you at such events. I suppose your daughter's recent engagement to my youngest after the death of my oldest has finally brought you out of hiding."

Your father's jaw tightened at the insult, but he maintained his composure, his fading eyes locked on Naobito's with a steely resolve. Your father knew to expect this kind of behavior considering it was his idea to send you on such a mission. "I'm here to pay my respects, Zenin-san."

Naobito's lips curled into a mocking smile, you could immediately see where Naoya got it from. "Of course, of course. I should be celebrating the upcoming nuptials between our children...again. Such a shame it had to come at such a cost."

Your anger simmered beneath the surface at Naobito's callous words, even if they were true, but before you could respond in defense of your father, Naoya's grip tightened on your upper arm, a silent threat. You shot him a glare, but his intensely furious, wide-eyed gaze warned you to behave.

Leaning in close, his voice a low whisper in your ear, Naoya's words sent a chill down your spine. "Behave yourself, Y/N," he hissed, his tone laced with menace. "Or suffer the consequences."

You gritted your teeth, swallowing your pride as you turned your attention back to the wake. Resentment burned deep within you, fueling the fire of defiance that flickered in your eyes. You had to play the part of dutiful fiancée and grieving widow, but the flames of your rebellion smoldered, waiting for their chance to ignite. 

Despite the biting remarks from Naobito, your father chose not to engage in further conflict. Instead, he turned his attention to you, the concern evident in his eyes. "Y/N," he began, his voice carrying sympathy, "my youngest flower, are you doing alright in this new arrangement? I hear you'll be remaining in Tokyo."

You nodded formally, suppressing the roiling emotions beneath your calm exterior. "Yes, Father. I'm...adapting to the circumstances."

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, a silent acknowledgement of the burdens you bore for the sake of his grander plan, before shifting to the imposing figure of Naoya standing next to you.

"And this is him?" Your father's voice cut through the solemn atmosphere as he gestured toward Naoya.

You nodded once more, keeping your expression neutral. "Yes, Father, this is Zenin Naoya." Naoya inclined his head in a formal greeting, but his eyes betrayed a sense of malice, a reminder of the precarious position you found yourself in.

As your father observed Naoya, a quiet remark escaped his lips, almost too soft to be heard. "Bleached hair? Seems a bit immature for you, my daughter. Is Daisuke sure that none of Naobito's other sons are available?"

Naoya's lips curled into a disdainful smirk at your father's remark, his eyes narrowing with thinly veiled contempt. "Ah, I see where Y/N gets her personality from," he remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "It's a shame she didn't inherit her father's keen eye for suitable partners. How many wives did it take for you to finally bear a son worthy enough to take your place?" He cocked his smile into a crooked smirk that oozed cruelty. "Excuse me, a minor correction, how many mistresses? How does it feel knowing a bastard will lead your clan at your own death should this bimbo here not produce a son?" He nodded toward your step-mother.

Your father's face tensed at Naoya's biting remark, his eyes narrowing with disapproval and subtle surprise. Naoya's words had cut through the solemn atmosphere like a blade, leaving a bitter taste in the air. However, to your own surprise, a giggle escaped your lips, almost instinctively, as if you couldn't resist supporting Naoya in his spiteful humor. As rude as the statement was, he wasn't wrong.

The sound echoed in the heavy air of the mourning hall, drawing a few curious glances from those nearby. Your father's gaze shifted to you, his expression now carrying confusion and concern. "Y/N," he said in a low tone, "did I hear you giggle at that comment? It was directed towards your own half-brother. Have you lost your senses in the face of this engagement?"

Your eyes widened slightly, the realization of your unintended reaction dawning on you. You cleared your throat and composed yourself, offering a strained smile. "I apologize, Father. It was inappropriate, it must be the grief. Please forgive my lapse of control."

Naobito, observing the exchange, scolded Naoya with a half-hearted wave of his hand. "Naoya, enough with the crude remarks. Show some respect at your brother's wake."

Naoya's eyes met his father's with a challenging glint as a sly smile curled on his lips. "Come on now, old man, no need for pleasantries in this grim affair. It seems my bride has a taste for the darker shades of humor. Maybe she appreciates my honesty in a world so full of deceit," he emphasized his words with a sense of possessiveness, his arm suddenly snaking around your waist and tightening as if staking a claim in front of your father.

Your father's expression tightened further at the disrespectful tone but he chose to ignore, again, the provocation, not wanting to escalate tensions further during the wake. Instead, he turned his attention back to the mournful event, leaving you caught between the conflicting dynamics of your own family.

As Naoya's arm lingered possessively around you, his voice dropped to a low murmur, audible only to you. "Enjoying the show, Y/N? It seems I've managed to make you laugh. What a musical sound, your laughter."

You shot him a sidelong glance, a mixture of irritation and amusement playing in your eyes. "My laughter is part of a fleeting emotion, Naoya. Don't let it go to your head."

His smirk widened, and he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "Oh, Y/N, I know you better than you think. You're so easily readable. We're not so different, you and I."

Before you could respond, the funeral atmosphere demanded your attention, and the wake continued. The exchange with your father had set the stage for a tense dynamic between your families, your opposing pride, power, and resentment pulsed beneath the surface of any and every exchange. As the wake unfolded, Naoya's crude comments and disrespectful behavior became a consistent undertone. The subtle jabs and possessive gestures continued, leaving you to navigate the treacherous path of maintaining appearances while resisting the control he sought to exert.

The funeral rites concluded after some time and the guests began to disperse. Naoya's arm remained tight around you, a bold display of dominance as he escorted you through the mournful crowd. Your father observed from a distance, concern and frustration etched on his face.

The next morning arrived with an air of tension as Daisuke prepared to leave the Zenin estate, without you in tow. He loaded his suitcase into the trunk of the car as you stood at the gates of the Zenin estate, watching him while nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek.

"Y/N, take care," Daisuke tried to mask the worry in his voice by keeping it steady. "I can't shake this feeling that things are going to get more complicated than they already are from here. If you ever feel overwhelmed or threatened, don't hesitate to reach out."

You nodded, appreciating his genuine concern. "I'll be fine, Uncle. You focus on Kyoto, and I'll handle things here. We've come too far to turn back now."

"Alright," Daisuke sighed as he stood in front of you, "the rest of your things will arrive in a few days." His expression remained pensive, and he hesitated before pulling you into a tight embrace. "Stay strong, Y/N. You're not alone in this."

As he released you, the atmosphere shifted with Naoya's arrival. The air grew heavy with his presence as he approached, his gaze fixed on Daisuke with a twisted smirk. Daisuke didn't hesitate to glare at the heir apparent this time, so long as his father wasn't around.

"Kamo-san," Naoya drawled, the surname dripping with sarcasm as he offered a false smile. His hands aggressively rested on your shoulders as he stood right behind you, lightly squeezing them. "It's been a pleasure having you here. I'm sure Y/N will miss your company."

Daisuke glanced between you and Naoya, uncertainty etched on his face. "Take good care of her, Naoya. I trust you're aware of the responsibilities that come with this arrangement."

Naoya's response was a cold, mocking chuckle. "Rest assured, Uncle. Y/N is in capable hands now. We'll get along just fine. Won't we, princess?" You ignored his comment and opted for rolling your eyes.

With a last worried look in your direction, Daisuke reluctantly stepped into the waiting car. The engine roared to life and the vehicle began its journey back to Kyoto, leaving you alone with Naoya. As the car disappeared from view, Naoya's demeanor shifted. His predatory grasp on your shoulders tightened even further, his touch possessive. He pressed his body against your back, your body shivering as you felt the contours of his toned muscles through his loose clothing.

"Such a caring uncle," Naoya murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his hands gently drifting to your upper arms to keep you in place. "But you won't be needing him anymore, Y/N. From now on, I'll be the one taking care of you."

His words dripped with a cruel mix of dominance and seduction. You could feel the intensity of his desire to control every aspect of your life. As you tried to maintain composure, his hands slid down your arms, fingers dancing lightly over your skin. You resisted the urge to pull away from Naoya's touch. The air had become charged with even more tension as he let go of you and began circling you as if you were his prey, his eyes trained on yours as you followed his gaze.

"Now that your caretaker is gone, Y/N, it's time for us to establish the rules of our engagement," he declared, his voice low and commanding. "You will do well to remember that your actions reflect on the Kamo clan, and any misstep will not be taken lightly."

You met his gaze with a defiant glare, refusing to be intimidated. "I understand the gravity of the situation, Naoya. There's no need for a lecture. Let's get on with whatever it is you have planned."

A sly grin played on his lips as he continued his predatory advance. "Oh, Y/N, you have spirit. I appreciate that. But make no mistake, you're not here to challenge me...as enticing as that is. You're here to serve a purpose, and your defiance will only lead to...consequences." He continued to circle around you before finally stopping in front of you, leaning toward your face with his lips dangerously close to yours. "But, perhaps, there's a way to make this arrangement more...enjoyable."

You pushed him away by shoving his shoulders, a fire igniting in your eyes. "I'm not here for your amusement, Naoya. If you think you can manipulate or control me, you're gravely mistaken."

He chuckled and crossed his arms tightly against his chest. "Feisty. I like that. But you should be careful with your defiance. It might not end well for you."

Ignoring his veiled threats, you took a step back, crossing your own arms in a challenge. "What do you want, Naoya? Lay out your 'rules,' and let's get this over with."

Naoya's eyes gleamed with a hint of satisfaction as you continued to glare up at him. "First and foremost, you will conduct yourself with utmost decorum in public. We are to be seen as a united front, especially during this surge in cursed spirits. Any display of disagreement or disrespect will not be tolerated."

You nodded, not out of submission but of understanding the game that had to be played. "Continue."

Naoya's smirk widened at your compliance, relishing in the power he held over you. "Secondly," he continued, his voice dripping with arrogance, "you will obey my every command without question. Your role is to serve me, to anticipate my needs, and to act accordingly. Your desires, your ambitions, they are inconsequential in comparison to mine."

His words stung, a reminder of the suffocating control he sought to exert over you. But you refused to let him see your vulnerability. With a forced calm, you replied, "I understand, Naoya. My duty is clear."

Naoya's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, invading your personal space once again. "And don't forget," he added, his voice a low growl as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, "you belong to me now. Your body, your mind, your very existence, they are mine to do with as I please. Any resistance will be met with swift punishment."

A shiver ran down your spine at his threat, but you refused to show any sign of weakness. "I'm not yours to own, Naoya," you retorted, your voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I'll play my part, but I won't surrender my autonomy to you."

Naoya's laughter filled the air, a chilling sound that made your hair stand on end. "Oh, how amusing," he sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice. "You truly believe you have a choice in this matter?" He leaned toward your ear, his breath hot against your neck. "We're about to have a lot of fun, then."

Dates: February 19, 2018 - Y/N's father arrives with her step-mother and they attend Naohiro's wake. February 20, 2018 - Daisuke leaves Tokyo, leaving you alone at the Zenin estate with your new husband-to-be.