#there’s a goodness and eagerness within her that illuminates her from within

[desireandduty]

❓ / first word

“Radiant”

[knightjpg]

Brick by Brick

You have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was.  And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

tags: 🔞construction worker simon/neighbour reader, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), size kink, brief mention of simon's childhood abuse

part 1 | part 2

After that things shift, just a little. You still sit with Simon while he works, handing him tools he teaches you the names of; still try to convince him to get pay for his work around the house. 

But you have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was. 

And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

“Thought you might want some leftovers for lunch,” you tell him, holding out two tupperware boxes. “If you're working those long hours you have to eat right, you know?” 

When Simon opens them at home, just before tucking them away in his work bag for tomorrow, his chest clenches. It's not just leftovers. There's dried beef jerky, a pack of crackers that go well with coffee, and a fist-sized chunk of banana bread. And— 

A little note. 

His heart hammers against his chest when he unfolds it. It's nearly dark out, crickets chirping soft and low somewhere beneath the window. The only sound in his kitchen is the ticking of a clock. 

Good luck today! Don't work too hard :)  

“Christ,” he mumbles, fingers tracing over the ink. Pretty. Like you. Like every fucking thing you do. 

Summer is nearing its end, and Simon is running out of excuses. Part of him feels proud to see the house shape up to the best it can be, but over the months the boxes have nearly all disappeared. He knows—has helped you unpack God knows how many books. Helped you put together a new bookcase, even. 

But if he's no longer useful, what's keeping you from closing your door on him? Dread rises sharp and fast in Simon's throat when he thinks about a dark, cold home waiting for him as his only company. He passes your door on the way home, more often than not sees your silhouette against the warm light of your window. Illuminating the hard dirty edges of him.  

You've started feeding him, this big mean watchdog, and he might choke on his leash if you stop now. 

“Hello, what is that?”   

Simon sharply yanks his lunch away from Johnny's grabby paws.  

“None f’your business.” 

“Is that bloody banana bread? You've got to be fuckin’ me.” 

“That's homemade,” Kyle says unhelpfully from just behind Simon's shoulder. 

“Piss off,” Simon grumbles. 

Johnny does not, of course, piss off. Instead he grins, cheeky and wide. “Didn't know y’had a bird, Simon.” 

“Fuck,” Kyle groans. “Is that roast beef? That smells so good. Where'd you get this?” 

Johnny snorts. “More like who's he blackmailin'.” 

Simon glowers at Johnny, then says through a mouthful, “My girl.” 

If there'd been any hope of them dropping it, it's gone now. Simon realises his mistake as soon the words leave his mouth and Kyle and Johnny light up.  

They're incessant. Dog him at every opportunity—who is she? What's her name? What's she look like? Show us a photo, Simon, dinnae be so selfish. 

Simon suffers it for a week until he slams his gloves on Price's table and threatens someone's going to end up in the cement mixer by the end of the day if he doesn't do something about it. 

They quiet down after that, though they can't help but ask after you every now and then—even Price, who despite his congratulatory shoulder clap admits he wishes he had a sweet thing of his own. 

And the lunches keep going. As do the notes, every one of which Simon keeps carefully tucked away in a box at home. He didn't find one last night, and he suppresses the wave of disappointment. Maybe you forgot. Maybe you were just tired, and maybe he's grown too comfortable with your casual affection. 

So when a little piece of paper that was stuck to the bottom of the lid flutters onto the ground the next day Simon is unprepared. The two seconds of surprise cost him—Johnny dives after it like a hawk and scoops it before it's barely touched the concrete. 

“You little shit—” 

Simon's at him immediately, and Johnny, delighted by what he thinks is a funny fucking little game, twists and dodges while fumbling the note open with one hand. 

“Looking forward to dinner tonight. Be safe today,” Johnny reads before Simon snatches it from him with a hard shove to his head. “Aww, Simon, you lucky shite. C’mon, give us one o’ those cookies, aye? If you're goin’ home to a candle lit dinner.” 

“Get your own cookies,” Simon huffs, and curls one arm around his tupperware protectively while he eats. 

Looking forward.   

So is he. 

- 

“Simon!” 

Simon whips his head around and catches you stepping out of your car with a wave. You've arrived home just after him today, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees your dress flutter prettily around your legs. 

You're dressed up all nice today—must've been at university, then. Simon doesn't know which he likes better: the shorts you wear at home or the glimpse of cleavage he gets when you wear a nice work blouse. 

His dick throbs when he holds his own hand up in greeting, hanging back just to get those few extra seconds with you.  

He's not sure why today is especially bad. Probably doesn't help that every time he jacks off in the shower you're the one he thinks of, imaging your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. It's hard to resist the indulgence after a long hard day of sweating and laying brick, then coming home and only getting to look, not touch. He doesn't want to stain you with his filth, but what's he supposed to do? He wants you. 

And his desire has sat festering in the confines of his rib cage for months. It curls his hands in tight fists so he doesn't reach for you by accident the way he does in his dreams, keeps him from leaning in to taste your lips to see if they're as sweet as your cobbler pies. 

“Alright?” he asks when you get closer. You feel off, distant, and when you nod it feels like it's more for his sake than for the truth of it. 

“Yeah. Um.” You adjust the strap of the bag on your shoulder, shifting on your feet. “I wanted to let you know I can't do dinner tomorrow. I'm, um, I have a date, so...” 

The spin of the world stutters for a second.  

Simon sucks in a quiet breath. “That so.” 

“Yeah.” You look up at him with a sad little smile. Not the kind of face you'd expect from someone who just scored a date, but Simon is too wrapped up in his misery to notice. “How was your day?” 

Normal. Unsuspecting. Good, even, until you told him some twat is taking you out to dinner.  

“Fine,” he hears himself say. Adds, “Watchin’ a match tonight.”  

An excuse—an out for both of you. You won't have to feel obligated to ask him if he'd like to come ‘round for a meal, and he won't have to pretend he doesn't feel like throwing up. 

“Go Manchester,” you reply with a smile. 

Just like Simon, they don't score. 

- 

He waits up for you. It's pathetic, really—that of all things this is what gets him to dig around for a pack of smokes. Been mostly clean ever since you moved in next to him, his half-hearted attempts to quit finally mounting up to something with real resolve. 

He doesn't want to taste nicotine when he eats your meals. 

Even threw out his lighter. Which means when he finds a crushed, dust-caked pack with only one cigarette in it behind his couch he has to light it with a match and shaky hands. 

It tastes awful. But it's familiar, and sometimes he craves the burn even when he sees his dad putting out his own cigs on Simon's legs behind his eyelids. 

The evening grows colder around him, late summer skies tinted with dark purples and blues. It's quiet in the neighbourhood. He's the only one out this late—everyone else has retreated to the comfort of their homes, ready to turn in for the night. 

It should feel peaceful, but all Simon feels is anxious and on edge. Not even the smoke calms his nerves. 

Should he back off, leave you to the happiness you deserve? Throw everything away in one last shot, ask to take you out like he's wanted to forever? 

Words are no good, but he's tried so desperately to show you that he'd do just about anything if you asked. To let you know that underneath his gruff silences he doesn't bite the hand that feeds him and that he'd rip anyone else to shreds for raising a finger against you. 

Simon's head lifts when his ears pick up the rumbling of a car. Is it...? 

It is. 

Lamplight flashes over the cobbled street, and then the rumble of the engine turns off with a click. 

You're alone—thank God. Simon doesn't know what he would've done if you'd taken your date home. 

You look worn out, and not the happy kind after a successful lay. Just tired—to the point where you almost don't notice him and jump when you do. You take a startled step back from his hulking silhouette leaning against the stone little fence curling around all the houses along the street you share, before pausing and asking in a soft voice: 

“Simon?” 

And because he's a masochist he asks, “Y’have fun?” 

He expects a yes. At best a non-committal shrug—at worst an enthusiastic smile. But you look down at your shoes, chew your lip, and say, “No.” A breath. “No. It was awful. He was a twat, and he tried to feel me up under the table, and he's been hounding me at university for months, and I got so sick of it I just said yes but now I'm going to have to email HR and ugh—!”  

Your voice breaks on the last sentence and you sniffle, turning your face away from Simon so you can give it a quick wipe with the back of your hand. 

He's up on his feet in an instant, trying to take slow breaths so he doesn't act on the overwhelming urge to hunt down the wankstain and crush his fingers so he can never fucking touch you again. Your dog bites without warning or remorse, and everything in him wants to show your sad excuse of a date just how sharp his teeth are. 

But he can't. You're hurting, and that's more important than breaking some bloke's nose. 

And so Simon tries for softness as much as he's capable of it, large scarred hand hesitantly landing on your shoulder. It's all the coaxing you need to lean into his touch, and when Simon shifts a little closer your head falls on his shoulder. He burns with a different kind of fire. 

“Sorry,” you sniffle. “I'm okay, I really am, it was just such a—such a—” 

“S’alright,” Simon rasps. He pets your hair and strokes your back with a clumsy touch, unsure of how far he should, can, is allowed to go. “Y’should've called me. Would've come t’pick you up, maybe sock him a new one.”  

He'd do more than that if you'd let him. He'd take you home and made sure the only time you cried was when he worked his fat cock inside you. 

Christ, he's going to hell. 

“I didn't want to bother you,” you say in a small voice. 

“Sweetheart. You're never botherin’ me.” You let out a shaky sigh, and Simon tucks your head under his chin a little more securely. “Woulda made sure y’got home safe.” 

It's quiet, then, save for the sound of a car driving away somewhere down the road. Simon doesn't say anything else. He doesn't want to break the spell that you're under. You feel so soft in his arms, his sweet bird, finally come home to where you belong. 

“I kept wishing it was you.” Your voice is so soft he almost doesn't catch it, but before he can process it you pull yourself out of his embrace, cursing under your breath. “Sorry. Sorry—forget I said that. I'm... I'm gonna go home.” 

Simon's hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. You stare at him with big wet eyes that has the pit of his stomach swoop low. 

“Y’wish it was me?” 

His voice is low and rough, strained with want. 

Your cheeks burn and you avert your eyes, though you don't pull your hand away. “Sorry. Ignore me, I'm just...” 

“I'll take you,” Simon says a little too quickly. “Anywhere you wanna go. Dinner. Movies.” He pauses, trying to remember what people do for fun. “The library.” 

There. You hiccup a little laugh, finally, and the beginnings of a smile tug at your mouth. 

“The library?” 

Simon smiles a little, too. “Anywhere you want,” he repeats. Even the fucking library. 

Your gaze drops to your hands, and you carefully turn your palm against his. “I think I'd like that.” 

Simon swallows and lets his fingers intertwine with yours. “Yeah?” 

“I don't really care where we go, though. If it's with you.” 

Jesus bloody Christ. 

“Okay,” Simon says, voice tight. “Alright. We'll—we'll figure it out. We'll go somewhere.” A breeze hits you as he says it, and you shiver. “...Right now let's just get you home.” 

You nod, the fatigue overtaking your features again. Simon walks you all the way to your door, squints against the night sensor he installed himself. 

You hover in the doorway before opening your mouth, closing it, then take a small step forward to rise on your toes. Simon's heartbeat kicks up under your hand where you steady yourself on his chest, and then he feels your lips press against his cheek. It's his bad one, the one with the nasty scar from a bar fight long ago. 

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

“Yeah,” he manages, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “’Course.” 

The door closes with a soft click.  

- 

When you mention wanting to hike out on a trail nearby Simon, true to his word, makes it happen. It's not so bloody hot anymore and it's nice, hearing the birds chirp overhead. Nice to exist in a world where everything is washed in shades of mottled green, hearing the dirt crunch under his feet.  

It relaxes him. Makes his muscles untense. You promised him a picnic at the end of the trail, and to Simon's delight he succeeds in coaxing you to feed him bites of your homemade sandwiches in the midst of tall grass and meadow flowers. 

When you get home, sweat and sun lingering on your skin, Simon has full intentions of dropping you off at your doorstep and wishing you a good night. Maybe get another kiss if he's lucky. 

And he does—but you linger, soft lips hovering over his cheek. His fingers curl and uncurl against his sides, waiting and wondering. 

“Please kiss me?” you breathe on his skin, and that's all it takes. 

He surprises himself with the intensity of it, but fucking hell, he's wanted you for so long. His shoulders hunch, neck bent low, and he slots his mouth over yours. Your little fingers grab at his shirt for balance, and he pushes you against your doorframe. Every time he pulls away you make a small noise of protest and chase his lips, and though Simon hasn't had a drop of alcohol today he feels well on his way to hammered. 

“Do you want to—please come inside—?” 

Simon groans and rests his forehead against yours. Fuck. “I want to—want t’do this right,” he rasps. 

You exhale with a shaky breath. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glittering like stars. Simon's stomach lurches at seeing you want him. “Right, um. Of course. I just—I've thought about... about you. For a—a really long timmf—” 

Simon groans into your mouth. He cups your cheeks, one hand sliding to hold you at the back of your neck. A sweat breaks out along his spine when he imagines you at night, in your bedroom, fucking yourself with your little fingers. Whimpering his name... 

“Yeah? Y’want me to take you to bed, sweetheart?” he murmurs, and you shiver. 

The two of you barely make it past the door until Simon is stealing the breath from your lungs again. He's wanted this for so long it's a little hard to stop, even if it's to break apart for air. Miraculously you seem to want it as much as he does, seem as desperate for his touch as he is for yours. 

When has anyone wanted him this bad? When has he ever felt like he'd die on the spot if he didn't get inside you right the fuck now? 

He doesn't need to ask you where the bedroom is. This place has felt his touch almost as much as yours, has shaped up into a cosy little home that is part of him, too. Like he wants to be part of you. 

Simon simply scoops you up and carries you straight to bed, forgetting to be gentle when he deposits on the mattress. His head is buzzing, his heart is thundering, and he needs you now.  

Fortunately you don't seem to mind much. Your hands immediately fly to his belt, tug at the metal impatiently, then fumble with his zipper with trembling hands. Simon pulls your top over your head, throws it somewhere on the floor without a care followed by his own. 

“Lie back,” he husks, and makes quick work of your trousers. Pauses just for a second to take in the growing wet patch of your panties. 

“Simon,” you whine softly. 

He drops to his knees and slides his large hands over your thighs, transfixed. He smooths over the goosebumps on your legs, presses a kiss to your knee. 

“Want me t’take these off?” he rasps, snapping the band of your panties. You lift your hips in silent assent. Simon helps you shimmy off your underwear and suppresses a moan when a string of sticky arousal clings to the fabric—then follows it right to the source. 

You gasp when he kisses your folds before gently spreading them with big warm fingers. “Sweet little cunt,” Simon mutters, and then he goes to town. 

He starts with slow, wet licks, feeling out what you like and what's too much. He keeps it light for a while just to feel you squirm and to hear your breathing turn ragged, then backs off just when your knees start trembling. He smiles when you whimper his name with a desperate little “please". 

“Such good manners.” His breath washes over your clit, and your hips try to twitch away from him. “Proper sweetheart, yeah?” 

It's great fun, playing with you, but his cock is throbbing painfully and he's leaking everywhere, and he very much intends for you to end the night feeling so blissed out you let him sleep next to you. 

So Simon hoists you closer, hooks your thighs over his shoulder, and sucks on your clit until you're sobbing his name. He holds your hips down by splaying one big hand over your stomach because you're a sensitive little thing, bucking away from him when he's not nearly done with you yet.  

It's cute, seeing you lose yourself to the pleasure. It's also really fucking hot. Simon slowly pushes one finger in you and groans when you clench around him. 

“Simon,” you whimper. “Oh, please, please—” 

Such a good girl, begging without him telling you to. Simon crooks his finger, and your next breath is a stutter of moans before your whole body tenses and you cum on his tongue. 

Simon hums approvingly, keeping his motions slow and steady so you ride it out all the way. When you whine and wriggle away from him he lets up, wiping at your slick covering his chin. 

Best meal you've cooked him by far. 

“Oh,” you sigh. “That was... Give me—give me a minute...” 

Simon chuckles and rises from his knees to crawl over you and steal a kiss. “Feelin’ good, princess?” 

“Princess—” you let out a breathless laugh, but even in the low light of your nightstand lamp Simon sees the colour rise in your cheeks. Liked that, did you? You blink up at him, a sweet satisfied smile on your lips. “Mhm. So good. Come here?” 

Your hands trail over his sides, stroke over the light hair trailing down his stomach. Simon shudders when your knuckles brush over his cock and he shucks off his trousers further to give you better access. 

When you wrap your hand around him he drops his head into the crook of your shoulder and moans. The twitch of his hips is involuntary, too desperate to chase his pleasure to stay put. 

“Next time,” you whisper while pulling him forward, spreading your legs wider to fit around his hips, “I want to feel you in my mouth.” 

“Jesus,” he groans. It takes everything in him to not just slide in. “We need a condom?” 

“I'm clean,” you murmur against his jaw. “On birth control. If you want we can—” 

“Fuck yeah I do,” Simon says, and you laugh. Soft eyes when your hands slide over his shoulders, brush through the short hair on his neck. Simon watches your face while he lines himself up without blinking, and he's rewarded with the flutter of your eyelashes, the parting of your soft lips. 

Your brows scrunch together at the first few inches, and he kisses you sweetly to make you relax. Simon knows he's not small, and he groans when you clench around him. 

“Good girl,” he whispers against your hair. “Good girl. Just like that, yeah? Takin’ it real well. Just like that.” 

He slides in a little deeper. You shiver and mewl and beg him for more, and he gives it to you. Anything you want.  

“Simon,” you whimper. “Feels so—oh, you feel so good. More, please, please—?” 

Simon brushes the hair from your forehead, keeping his thrusts long and slow and making sure to kiss your cervix each time, just because your breath stutters so prettily every time he does. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, you're so—such a tight little cunt. Couldn't wait any longer, could you? Jus’ had to have me?” 

You nod immediately and empathically, eyes glassy with arousal. You try to answer him, but the only thing you manage are airy moans that sound like his name. 

That's alright. Don't need to talk. He knows what you want to say; he feels the same. Simon catches you in a messy kiss while lacing his fingers with yours. Yours. Mine.  

He shoves his free hand between your two bodies and finds your clit, circling it until he's found the right rhythm that has tears gathering in your eyes. He could live on that for the rest of his life, of hearing you mindlessly stuttering his name while your body tenses up and your head drops back and those pretty lips part in a choked moan— 

“Christ,” Simon grits through his teeth, sweat dampening his brow. Your cunt flutters around him, soft little flower in full bloom that, with another thrust or two, has him falling apart as well. 

Both of you moan at the feeling of his cum spurting hot and thick in your waiting womb. Simon rocks against you slowly to make sure you get every last drop—birth control or not. 

He kisses you on the comedown. You melt into his touch, butter and honey, running your fingers through his hair until Simon shifts you around so you're curled up against him. 

In another minute he'll get up and get you a washcloth before tucking you in and kissing your bare shoulders. He'll wrap himself around you before sleep takes you, make sure that he's the last thing you see and hear and touch. 

For now he lets himself bask in the present. In having a sweet little bird clinging to him for comfort and giving him more than he could ever ask for in return. 

Simon doesn't think you quite realise what you've gotten yourself into, in giving this big ugly watchdog your affection. He's not a king or a prince; not even a knight, not like the ones you read so much about. Simon wouldn't exactly call himself chivalrous or genteel. 

But he's just as devoted and twice as vicious. He'll belong to you, and you to him, and from the moment he saw you he was oath-bound. 

He'll have to steal a ring or two to measure which size is right. It'll take some work to knock down the walls between your two houses, but he'll ask the lads for help. Simon knows you'll win them over right away if you cook dinner or bake them something sweet. 

And maybe in time he'll have to try his own hand at baking. He always did want to put a bun in the oven, and Simon just knows that if you're the one to do it with him— 

It'll come out perfect. 

[atyourmerci]

♡ Hook, line, and sinker (2) (sub!abby // follower req)

Basketball!abby X nerdy reader

Read pt.1 here

♡ ♡

Summary: Abby gets eager to get another study seshion in within days of seeing her last

Warnings: smut, MDNI, sub!abby, top!reader, abby is a whiny sub, orgasming from being untouched, lots of tongue???, my digital footprint is assfucked, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader

A/N: sorry I left yall on a cliffhanger but pt.3(finale) will undoubtedly be my favorite, I’ve had it planned from the beginning so hehe. I’m so glad you guys are enjoying it as much as I am. Love you like always, enjoy muah!

♡ ♡

She couldn’t even fucking look at you. Not a single glance. It’s as if her every pathetic whimper and plea would broadcast to the general public if she so much as looked your way.

It was pathetic, and a little comical to say the least. The power you held over her was obvious, and she knew it. It made her sick, the way she gave up so easily, broke down every wall, gave into you. But for fuck’s sake was it riveting, she couldn’t stop thinking of the intensity…how powerful yet slow you made it. How you worked your way into completing dissecting her.

She had never let any sexual manner have the chance of passion, intimacy. Sex was a goal to her. The intricacies getting to that destination were trivial to her. You fucked it all up, she started dwelling on it, growing obsessed of every detail you slowed masterfully.

She needed more.

♡ ♡

After a week of unmet glances and radio static you came to the conclusion that you completely wrecked the ox of a woman. All it took was a few words and your tongue to rip her out of her upheld perception of herself.

You tried fucking with her the second time you had class with her. Once, sure, maybe she was busy or concentrated for once, but twice? She was purposefully hiding, like a scared bunny from a predator.

You bumped into her walking out of class. If you could even call it a bump- more like you threw your body at her knowing that she couldn’t ignore it. At the touch of you she almost seized up, staring down at the floor in front of her, continuing her path. You threw her a teasing, “oh…sorry!” To which she returned with awkward mumbling, something along the lines of, “ah- uh-,” and continued almost in a run away from you.

You laughed it off. A few words and your tongue…fucking comical.

If avoiding her reality is the way that worked for her, so be it. There was no need to try to process her internal emotions- she couldn’t even do it. So, you let it die, you knew the type of person she was. You knew her dirty little secret.

♡ ♡

Another mind numbing night of studying till your eyes popped out of their sockets was in store for you. Staring at white pages filled with words and highlighting’s, fuck they could be in another language for all you knew at this hour.

It was getting late and you were about ready to throw the towel in, making it tomorrow mornings issue. You hear a buzz from your phone, rubbing your eyes you wonder who has the audacity to try speaking with you at this hour. “Abby Anderson,” illuminates on your face. At first you think you may be dreaming, your eyes weren’t working well at this point anymore.

A.A: Can we meet up this week, need help w the test

Now you need me?

A.A: huh

Nothing. Test isn’t for another 3 weeks… why do you want to start now?

A.A: need to get ahead

Mmm okay. Tomorrow at the library?

A.A: too loud

Okay coffee shop

A.A: I don’t like coffee

I didn’t ask

A.A: I’ll be over at your place tomorrow- 8

Little late for studying

A.A: do you ever shut up

If you promise you’ll be nice

A.A: I didn’t say that

I’m sure you’ll be a good girl

A.A: let me come over

See you at 8 tomorrow.

Only Abby Anderson would attempt to booty call you through a ruse of studying. She usually came knocking down your door the night before the test begging you for your help. Three weeks before was, well… pathetic.

♡ ♡

When she showed up at your dorm door, 8pm on the nose, she was more nervous than you had ever seen her. She blessed you with one weary glance as you whipped the door open, but continued her gaze down afterwards.

When she sat on the bed, for the first time she sat completely straight up, uncomfortably straight, folding her legs across and twiddling her fingers between her legs. A nervous habit you’d picked up from her on your last endeavor.

She never usually paid attention to your lecturing but fuck was it like she wasn’t even in the room this time. Throwing out quick “yeah’s” and “yup’s” on a routine after you’d say a thought.

You knew exactly what she came here for…but god was it fun to watch her squirm. You could’ve thrown her…okay maybe not thrown…but at least pushed her down on your bed so she didn’t have to do any work, give her the easy way out. But that would not have been amusing.

You’re in the middle of explaining a chemistry equation and- “can you just- do it,” she blurts out, stopping you completely in your tracks. You watch her intently, waiting for an elaboration you won’t get. Her eyes trained on her lap, waiting for you to pick up her scattered pieces and place them together.

“Do what abby?” You say faking curiosity. “You know,” she says in return. “I don’t think I do,” you taunt her. “Please-“ she says meekly. You begin to crawl silently towards her, moving her hands up from her lap so you can straddle her and move her hands back to tops of your thighs.

The sudden sensation causes her breath to hitch, her eyes watching her unwarranted hand placement on your thighs. You lightly grip her jawline so that she meets your eyes, just watching as her mouth opens in a pant.

“You make me nervous,” she says, if she could, she’d break your eye contact, but you wouldn’t let that happen.

“New game.”

She looks back at you puzzled, almost frightened. You grip your hand around her chin tighter, “you’re going to lay down, just like the last time, and I’m going lick every inch of you, and you’re going to tell me right where it’s sensitive, you understand?”

You watch as she gulps down a nervous breath, shaking her head rapidly, eyes dazed. “Good girl, now go lay down.” Her hands move to your hips, grasping down on the flesh desperately, “I can’t handle when you call me that-“

“No touching- or I stop.” She pulls her hands down quickly, moving her way to the back of your bed. “Y- okay. I-I promise.”

She looked like I child waiting to open presents on Christmas, eyes bright and wide, waiting for your command. This time you didn’t have to ask, she immediately ripped her shirt and sweats off, leaving her only in her sports bra and boxers adorned with a patch of slick forming in the center. You climb closer to her, kneeling between her thighs.

Just to toy with her further you slowly begin unbuttoning your blouse, her mouth starting to gape. Once it had been completely removed you started working on your shorts, slowly shimmying them down your thighs with your eyes trained onto her. She bit onto her lip watching as you were left only in your own bra and panties.

You climb back onto her, bare skin on bare skin. You wanted to tear into her, but taking your time to cut deep would be so much more rewarding. “You understand the rules?” You as watching her teeth cut into her lip, “mhm,” she replies through her closed mouth.

You lean into her, catching her shoulder with your tongue as she jolts into you. You feel her arms come up beside you but fall quickly. You trace it up to her collarbone, letting your teeth graze the thin skin there, following to where they met in the middle. You trail it up the middle of her throat, feeling the vibration of her breath.

“C-close,” she breaths out. You redirect to the side of her neck, right on the pulse. You already knew it was sensitive there but…it was fun.

“Fuck there,” she breathes out. You take your time licking down the throb, nipping at it, teasing the threat, eliciting as many little whimpers you can get out of her. Once you’ve had your fun you move up, catching the lobe of her ear with your teeth, “holy fuck- yeah there,” she groans out.

You bring your mouth into her ear, whispering gently into it as your hand snakes against the opposite side of her neck, “what? No ones ever touched you here?”

She groans back at you, “n-no. Never.” You return back to the shell of her ear, nipping at the surrounding flesh.

You begin your decent, your clothed cunt reaching hers, “take this off for me pretty,” you say outlining her bra with your fingertips. She feverishly nods tossing it off of her. You lean into her chest, taking no time to meet your tongue to her rose pink bud. Her body jolts up at the sensation, her chest growing a deep shade of pink.

“There. Right there!” You begin circling it, saturating it with your spit, “I know baby,” you say glancing back into her eyes, lidded trying to keep them open so she can watch you, but it was getting so so hard.

Your teeth latch onto it, encasing the bud gently. Flushed red as the blood raced to them, teeth purpling dots into the soft flesh. The whimpers falling off her pathetic throat.

“You k-know you c-ant talk to me like that,” you watch as her hands grip into the sheets, knuckles whitening. “You can come baby, I won’t be mad.” Your fingers come up to twist her untouched nipple as you lap your tongue at the swollen one in your mouth.

The pool of your own arousal soaking into hers, even covered you can feel the pulsing of her, repeated by your own.

“I- I can’t.” She pants out as her hips buck up into your clothed core. “Yes you can, you’re being such a good girl, show me how good you feel.”

“Please- no n-not like this.” Her head drops into your pillow…she’s so fucking close. The red on her chest now trailing up her neck.

“Come for me pretty girl, just like that, rub that pretty pussy into me.” She begins shaking, trying to stop herself, but it was too late.

“Fffffffuckkkkkkkk,” she begins reeling, whimpering through her reluctant orgasm. Her hips grind into yours as her chest splattered with beads of sweat rapidly rises and falls. “Good girl, keep going.” She rides it out as long as she can, chasing her own pathetic untouched high.

Once she settles she glances up at you dazed, as if she wasn’t sure what had just happened. You stare back smugly, sure of your power.

“That was- embarrassing.” She ashamedly shakes her head, letting the tight grip of the sheets go. “Quite hot on the contrary,” you dismiss. “God if anyone ever-“ she begins to protest.

“Let me show you how it makes me feel,” you cut her off, dismantling yourself from her so that your legs frame around hers, wide open.

Your own pool of slick dripping out the sides of your thin panties. She gawks at the site, unable to remove her gaze from the sense of familiarity. The feeling of intensity so tight you cant stop yourself from the natural reaction.

“Can I-“ she begins to reach out to you but you cut her short, “no.” You dismiss her with no room for discussion.

This wasn’t about your secret. It was about hers.

Follower req by: @ghgygd

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow

[silvergyus]

bitten- h.kk

pairing: mortal!hueningkai x vampire!reader

summary: a century-old vampire hunts for her latest victim, a mortal boy she may want to keep around forever

warnings: typical vampire content including killing victims (kai is referred to as your victim/prey multiple times), blood consumption (reader bites kai and drinks his blood). this fic is dark! please do not read if you are not comfortable with these descriptions!

smut warnings: handjob (kai receiving), blowjob (kai receiving), scratching (kai receiving), dubcon (reader uses vampire persuasion on him multiple times), cum eating

word count: 1,600+

song recs: death- white lies & vampires- l.i.f.t

Decades had a tendency to bleed into one another. Styles changed, slang evolved, but at their core, humans remained the same.

You stalked through the dark, crisp autumn night. Dim street lights illuminated your strides in a hazy, golden glow. You were on the hunt tonight, hunger pangs twisting your stomach, propelling you forward. An onslaught of scents flooded your heightened senses, causing you to stumble and turn towards the heady mix of prey.

After asking a drunk girl with shiny red cheeks to invite you in, you crossed the threshold of the worn-down house and into the party. The air hung heavy with a nicotine haze as you made your way through the packed bodies lounging in the narrow hall. The smell of hormonal bodies drenched in alcohol filled your head, but you wouldn’t feed on just any poor drunkard, no, you wanted to find someone worth feeding on.

You settled into an antique rocking chair, an heirloom that stood out against the cheap particle board furniture that surrounded it. From your perch you took in the bodies in the room, observing everyone in the space, taking in the sights, sounds and scents of your next potential victim. Your eyes found their way to a boy tucked into the corner, laughing awkwardly at the conversations around him.

The boy held your full attention. He was beautiful. Tall, with a broad chest and shoulders half-hidden in his oversized sweater. His black hair hung into his eyes, a shield from the prying eyes of others, but not from you. No, you were especially good at finding those perfect boys, these perfect victims.

Draining the life- or at least most of it- from a victim was always erotic. It couldn't be helped. Their body writhing under your touch, your bite, the way they always resisted at first, until your venom lulled them into a pliant state. It was always messy, no matter how delicate you were. Hot blood rushing down their exposed throats, pulsing sweetly into your mouth. Their loud groans and quiet whimpers as you fed from them.

And if every feed was going to be like this, why shouldn't you pick the prettiest meals? Pretty humans with pretty throats, pretty flesh to trace your fangs along, pretty voices to whimper at your touch. Why shouldn’t you hunt for the best? You had forever to find it after all.

And when you had the best, you liked to hold onto it. No, you didn’t always kill your victims. Sometimes you kept them around, little pets for you to revive and feed from again and again, until you got bored or over-eager. Accidents happen. You hated wasting a pretty body, but sometimes, the darkness within you was too strong to ignore, animalistic instincts taking over, draining all the life from the victim at your feet. 

This boy though, he was pretty, pretty enough to be held onto. Too pretty of a face to be discarded after one round.

The air was thick with smoke and incense as you made your way over to your prey. His eyes, though obscured by his messy locks, widened at your sudden presence beside him.

A century of life has taught you charm. You postured yourself to appeal to this boy as you took him in at close range. You could smell the cologne he wore, sweet and bright against his skin. Below that, the coppery scent of his blood was intoxicating. You could hear his heart beat faster as you spoke to him, hear it rush towards his blushing cheeks. Oh, how he flustered at your presence. He’s cute, this boy. You could wait no longer to taste him.

The night stretched on as you conversed with the boy, Kai, he divulged. His mannerisms charmed you in kind, a sense of innocence that you longed to corrupt. The hunger that turned in you drew you closer to him, to his throat, the intoxicating scent making your head spin with want.

“Kai, my dear, would you like to come home with me?” Your eyes flashed black as you spoke, supernatural abilities turning your words sweeter than honey, impossible to resist. He nodded, eyes glassy as he was persuaded into action.

The moments between then and now passed in a flash. The journey back to your lair one filled with touches and kisses. Pleasantries were entertained, but the hunger in you couldn’t be silenced, not when this beautiful boy was settling onto your settee, relaxing in your space. Your eyes flash again, persuading him out of his clothes and onto your bed.

----

Kai is laid back against you, bare skin soft against yours. He is pale, his soft flesh dotted with sweet marks and freckles, a pink flush coloring his face and chest.

Your hand snakes up from his waist, a soft caress exploring the broad expanse of his chest, trailing up his throat before grasping his angular chin. You point his face away from yours, towards the silver mirror positioned across from the foot of the bed. In its surface you can see Kai’s brows furrow as he tries to make sense of the scene presented to him. Only his naked form appears reflected back, yours nowhere to be found.

"Look how beautiful you are," you whisper, taking in his appearance in the glass. His eyes widen with horror as he realizes that even as you talk, even as you move, there remains only one reflection in the mirror. He can feel you of course, your breasts pressed into his back, your breath fanning over his ear as you hold him. Your fingertips ghost over his nipples, scratching them slightly to see how he arches into your touch. You nuzzle his throat, smelling his fear and the sweetness of his blood pumping beneath the skin. His veins, so blue, stand to attention as his adrenaline rushes. It takes everything not to sink your teeth into him right now.

"Do you want to be like me, Kai? Would you like to feel like this forever?"

He swallows, still mesmerized by the scene in the reflection. Your hands continue to explore his chest, caressing his unmarked skin as they dip down to let your nails graze his hip bone. You tease him, fingertips ghosting over his thighs, dipping into the soft curls that rest almost, but not quite where he wants your touch the most.

"Maybe not yet. Going to let you decide that in time." His hand reaches back for you, searching for something to ground himself, to prove you're real, to deny the image in the mirror.

"I'm real, Kai. You haven't imagined me."

He turns in your arms, facing you. His cheeks are flushed with adrenaline and arousal, ears stained red from bloodrush. His leaking cock is the same bright hue.

"I'll make you feel good now, hmm?" You catch the whine from the back of his throat. He nods, cautiously. "You'll make me feel good too?" He nods again, slowly, unsure of what he's agreeing to.

"Good," you caress his face, gently pushing his hair from his eyes, "because I like to bite."

With superhuman speed your hand grabs his hard cock, jerking him so suddenly he thrusts up into your touch, body reacting involuntarily. The second that you've settled him back into place, your teeth find his throat, sinking deep into his vein. The hot blood rushes over your tongue and teeth, filling your mouth with the coppery sweetness you need to survive eternity.

He whines, a high note that falls as his hips stutter into your touch. The portrait before him is one of debauchery: blood weeping from his throat as his blushing cock weeps silvery precum and his hips buck into nothing. Scratch marks bloom across his chest where your nails rake over his sensitive nipples, but he cannot see your hand. The sight is dizzying. He feels faint.

You notice his color start to pale and force yourself to pull off from his throat, though it is a challenge to. The breathy sighs he makes, the feeling of his skin against yours, the rush of blood all taking over your senses, driving you towards giving into animalistic hedonism. You pull off his throat and lick broad stripes over the puncture wounds, venom telling the veins to close, the skin to heal. He will have two faint marks and a dark bruise in the morning.

He groans when you pull away, the venom fiery and soothing all at once. You stop your movements on his cock and he whines again, desperate for release.

“Shhh,” you soothe him, still trying to orient yourself after the rush of feeding, “that’s a good boy.” You settle him onto the pillows and maneuver yourself so you are settled between his thighs. “Did so well for me. Now let me make you feel good.”

Your mouth finds him again, this time lips and tongue, not teeth. You kiss the angry tip of his cock before licking a flat stroke against the head. Your lips are stained with his crimson blood, a beautiful compliment to his flushed and needy skin. He groans and bucks into your touch.

You take him into your mouth, sucking him earnestly as your hand strokes the base you don't fit in. He is close from your previous attention and it takes almost no time for him to groan loudly as he releases into your mouth. Salt floods your tongue, a welcome chaser for the copper meal. You've fed from him twice tonight and he is hazy and weak in your bed, the picture of human fragility as his chest heaves against your sheets.

You crawl up the length of his body to kiss his full lips, stroking his face as you do.

"Thank you Kai, you did so well."

"If I become like you," he asks, voice quiet, "will every night be like this?"

You can't help the smile that blooms across your face. An eternity with this beautiful boy? It wouldn't be the worst way to spend forever.

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist: @lunesdesire, @dearlyjun, @moamidzyism, @miupow, @mapofthemazeinthemirror

send a message to be added or removed from my taglist!

[captainheartcollector]

Doubts

Alastor x Reader

A/N: Hello, everyone! Here is my first (and probably only since I’m not really a writer) attempt at an Alastor x Reader. I don’t know why, but I got inspired to write a scenario involving the day after having relations with Alastor the very first time. It doesn’t go into detail. Being on the ace spectrum myself, maybe this was just my way of coping with things. This was very self-indulgent. Story is all from Reader’s POV, whom I kept gender neutral. I’m sorry if Alastor is super ooc. I don’t have any clue on how to capture his personality. But I hope that you can enjoy the story nonetheless!

CW: suggestive themes, excessive use of pet names

Word Count: 1,144

Last night was the first time Alastor and you made love. Why he decided to be so generous, you couldn’t say. But you weren’t going to complain. When you awoke the following morning, you awoke to an empty bed. His spot beside you was cold. He had undoubtedly been up hours before you were. Realization set in. Did last night really happen? Was it a dream? No. The evidence riddled all over your aching body proved it. You eventually found the strength to sit up. Was he upset with you? Did he regret his decision to go all the way? Is that the reason he didn’t stay? You hadn’t pressured him, but you were the one who really wanted it after all.

Brushing those dangerous trepidations aside, you washed up and got ready for the day as usual. It was your day off, so you took things easy. However, you couldn’t help but notice that Alastor was nowhere to be seen within the hotel. Was he avoiding you? Surely, he was out on business, attending to his duties as an Overlord or brainstorming ideas for his next radio broadcast. Maybe he was just taking one of his daily strolls, chatting with Miss Rosie. Would he tell her?

Sure, Alastor was a schemer, but at this point, it felt far too late to start doubting him now. So, you tried your best to push those feelings away and keep yourself preoccupied, aiding as much as you could with the daily tasks around the hotel.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

It was hours before he finally returned. You glanced at the clock—it was nearly midnight. He sauntered through the front doors like all was right with the world. Once he detected your presence, he ambled across the lobby over to you smoothly. “Good evening, (y/n),” he chirped melodically with a flourish and a gleam in his eye. “I trust that you’ve caught up on your beauty sleep?” He sounded as pleasant as ever. So, you were clearly on speaking terms. Maybe that meant he wasn’t angry, or…

Despite your reservations, you couldn’t contain the eager smile creeping its way onto your face as you admired him. “Sure did,” you answered casually. “How was your outing today?”

“Frightfully illuminating, I must say. Thanks for asking!”

He acted like he was in a good mood. Therefore, you weren't going to sour it by prying further on the matter—especially when you could discern that he didn’t want you to. However, you needed to know the answers to the questions plaguing your mind. “Alastor,” you murmured, “do you think that we could talk…privately?” The last word was a whisper.

“Certainly, sweetheart.” That was easy. “Meet me in the library in ten.”

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

And that’s where the two of you were now—in a secluded, quiet corner of the library. You made sure no one else was around beforehand. Though why would there be at this hour. He sat next to you on the plush camelback sofa. You stared down at your hands which were fidgeting in your lap nervously as you spoke. “Alastor…you’re not upset with me, are you?”

He studied you silently for a moment before responding. You could never tell what was running through that demented head of his. Suddenly, he chimed, “Not at all, dearest. What reason would there be for that?”

Did he really not get it? Was he just pretending to be oblivious? Or was he truly unbothered by what happened?

“You know…Last night. You’re not mad?”

You felt his slender, clawed fingers cup your chin, forcing you to look at him directly. His smile was genuine and warm.

“Of course not, darling. It was consensual, was it not?”

“Yes, but I would never want you to do those things if they make you uncomfortable…or, if you just plain don’t want to.”

“I did want to. I wanted to because I knew you wanted to.”

What? That was so uncharacteristically thoughtful to hear him say. His thumb caressed your cheek in reassurance while his lidded gaze never faltered. It felt as though he was completely unperturbed.

“Wow…That’s so sweet of you, Alastor.” So sweet, you almost didn’t know how to process it. “But,” you interjected, “I want you to be able to enjoy it, too. Otherwise, I can’t—”

One of his fingers grazed over your lips, effectively shushing you.

He let out a low hum as if in brief contemplation before continuing. “I did enjoy it… More than I thought possible,” he admitted, seemingly in spite of himself.

You couldn’t fight back the hopeful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “So…you don’t regret it?”

“Au contraire,” he beamed as he leaned in closer, mischief glinting in those gorgeous crimson eyes of his. “One could easily grow accustomed to seeing all those pretty faces you make while chanting my name more often.”

Immediately, an intense heat began to scald your cheeks as you hid your face in embarrassment, swatting him away playfully. “Don’t tease me!”

He chuckled heartily at your expense. “No sense in acting shy now, darling!”

“Ah, Alastor, stooop!”

His laughter continued briefly before he wiped a gleeful tear from his eye and conceded, “Very well.”

As soon as the silly little incident died down, you mustered the confidence to behold his eyes once more. He appeared absolutely pleased with himself. And yet again, you couldn’t help but return his contagious, everlasting smile. He was so beautiful—beyond just his face or form. You knew he was a menace, but there were beautiful aspects to his personality, too. Well, when he wanted there to be. Being able to make you smile—sincerely smile—was just one of them.

“Y’know,” you said finally, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between you, “I’m glad.”

Alastor’s toothy grin somehow grew even wider as he leaned down close to you like he had before. His hand crept along the back of your neck affectionately as he placed a tender kiss gently upon your forehead. Even after he carefully pulled away, his deft fingers continued to brush lightly through your hair and along your scalp. You could have melted right there and then.

“That’s wonderful news, (y/n.) Let’s try and keep it that way, shall we?”

You nodded in agreement as you happily slid into his arms, wrapping your own around his lithe frame, never taking for granted how freely and frequently he allowed you to touch him during these soft and confidential moments. “I love you,” you sighed contentedly, nuzzling against his chest.

However, it was his unexpected reply that left you feeling giddy for the rest of the night.

“I know, my dear. I am…quite fond of you, too.”

And that was enough for you.

[bitchiswild]

Lookingforadom.com

G!P Huh Yunjin x F!Reader

Words Count: 6k

Warnings: soft dom yunjin I think… yea it should be

A/n: haiii Sorry 😓 been busy and having writers block😫

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Kazuha asks, a note of concern in her voice.

You sigh, your eyes fixed on the laptop screen where the search bar reads, Lookingforadom.com. "At this point, Kazuha, I need some action in my life," you admit.

Kazuha tilts her head thoughtfully. "I mean, at least find a soft dom. I feel like that's more up your alley."

You click on the first search result, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. The website's homepage is sleek and inviting, filled with profiles of people seeking all sorts of dynamics. You glance at Kazuha, who is watching you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Okay, let's see," you murmur, scrolling through the profiles. Some of them are intimidating, with bold statements and intense photographs. You feel a bit overwhelmed but continue your search, determined to find someone who matches Kazuha's suggestion.

After a few minutes, you find a profile that catches your eye. The username is "GentleMistress," and the description reads: "Soft dom seeking a respectful and eager sub. Let's explore boundaries with care and mutual respect."

"This one looks promising," you say, turning the laptop towards Kazuha. She leans in, reading the profile over your shoulder.

"She seems nice," she agrees. "Why don't you send her a message?"

Taking a deep breath, you click on the message button and start typing:

"Hi, GentleMistress. I'm new to this and looking for someone who can guide me gently. Your profile stood out to me because it seems like you value respect and care. I'd love to chat and see if we connect."

You hover over the send button for a moment, then click it before you can second-guess yourself. The message sends, and you lean back in your chair, exhaling slowly.

Kazuha smiles reassuringly. "I think you made a good choice. Now we wait."

As you wait for a response, you chat about other things, trying to distract yourself from the anticipation. Your mind keeps drifting back to the message, wondering what kind of person GentleMistress is and what this new adventure will bring into your life.

Hours have passed, and doubts begin to creep into your mind. What if GentleMistress doesn't like you? What if this whole thing is a mistake? The "what ifs" swirl around your head, making you second-guess your decision.

Kazuha had left a while ago, reassuring you with a hug before she went. Now, alone in your room, the silence is deafening. You keep glancing at your phone, willing a notification to appear.

Just as you’re about to give up hope, a ping echoes from your phone. Your heart races as you pick it up, the screen illuminating with a new message notification. You hold your breath and open it.

It's from GentleMistress.

"Hi there! Thank you for reaching out. I appreciate your honesty and courage in taking this step. I'd love to chat and get to know you better. When would you be available for a video call?"

A mix of relief and excitement washes over you. You quickly type back a response, your fingers trembling slightly.

"Hi, GentleMistress. Thank you for replying! I'm free tomorrow evening if that works for you."

You hit send and stare at the screen, waiting for a reply. Within minutes, another ping sounds.

"Tomorrow evening sounds perfect. Looking forward to it. Have a great night!"

You can't help but smile. The doubts that had plagued you earlier start to fade, replaced by a sense of anticipation. Tomorrow is going to be interesting, and you feel a flicker of hope for this new adventure.

As you put your phone down, you take a deep breath and decide to relax for the rest of the night. Tomorrow will come soon enough, and with it, the potential for something new and exciting.

The next day feels like it drags on forever. You go about your usual routine, but your mind keeps drifting back to the upcoming video call. What will GentleMistress be like? What will you talk about? A mix of excitement and nerves buzzes in your stomach.

Finally, evening arrives. You sit down at your desk, making sure your laptop camera is positioned correctly. Taking a deep breath, you open your laptop and log in to the website, finding the message from GentleMistress. Right on time, a notification pops up: "GentleMistress is calling."

You click accept, and the screen fills with GentleMistress's image. She has kind eyes and a warm smile that instantly puts you at ease.

"Hi there," she greets, her voice calm and reassuring. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Hi," you respond, trying to steady your voice. "It's nice to meet you too."

You spend the first few minutes exchanging pleasantries, talking about your day and getting comfortable with each other. GentleMistress is patient and attentive, asking questions about your interests and making you feel heard.

"So," she says, leaning in a little closer to the camera, "what made you decide to look for this kind of relationship?"

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. "I've been feeling like I need more excitement in my life, something different. I want to explore this side of myself, but I also want to do it with someone who respects boundaries and is caring."

GentleMistress nods thoughtfully. "That's a very mature and honest reason. I appreciate you sharing that with me. It's important to have a foundation of trust and communication in any relationship, especially in this dynamic."

As the conversation continues, you find yourself relaxing more and more. GentleMistress's approach is gentle and respectful, exactly what you were hoping for. She shares her own experiences and reassures you that it's okay to take things at your own pace.

After about an hour, the conversation winds down. "This has been really great," GentleMistress says. "I think we have a good connection, and I'd like to continue getting to know you better. How do you feel about that?"

You smile, feeling a sense of relief and excitement. "I feel the same way. I'd like to continue as well."

"Excellent," she replies, her smile widening. "Let's set up another call soon. In the meantime, if you have any questions or just want to chat, feel free to message me anytime."

You end the call with a sense of accomplishment and a newfound sense of excitement for what lies ahead. This new adventure is starting to feel like the right choice, and you can't wait to see where it leads.

As you close your laptop, you realize that sometimes taking a leap of faith can lead to the most rewarding experiences. You feel a renewed sense of hope and anticipation for the future.

Over the next few days, you exchange messages with GentleMistress. Each conversation reveals more about her, and you feel increasingly comfortable and excited about this new connection. She shares her thoughts on boundaries, trust, and the importance of communication in a dynamic like the one you're exploring.

One evening, as you're scrolling through her latest message, a new notification pops up. It's a message from Kazuha.

"Hey, how's it going with GentleMistress? Have you guys talked more?"

You smile and quickly type back, "Yeah, we've been messaging a lot. She's really kind and respectful. I think this could be something good."

Almost immediately, Kazuha replies, "I'm glad to hear that! Do you have another call scheduled?"

"Not yet," you type back. "But I think I'll suggest one soon."

Later that night, you muster up the courage to ask GentleMistress for another video call. Her response is prompt and positive, agreeing to chat the next evening. You feel a flutter of anticipation as you prepare for the call.

The next evening, you log in a few minutes early, eager to see GentleMistress again. When the call connects, her warm smile greets you once more.

"Hello again," she says, her voice smooth and welcoming. "How have you been?"

"I've been good," you reply. "I've been looking forward to this."

"Me too," she responds, her eyes twinkling. "I thought tonight we could talk a bit more about what you're looking for and how we can explore that together."

You nod, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "That sounds great. I think I'd like to start slowly, really get to know each other and build that trust."

"Absolutely," GentleMistress agrees. "Trust is the foundation of everything we do. It's important that you feel safe and respected at all times."

The conversation flows naturally from there. You discuss your boundaries, your interests, and what excites you about this journey. GentleMistress listens intently, offering her own insights and reassurances.

As the call continues, you feel a growing sense of connection and confidence. GentleMistress's thoughtful approach and genuine care make you feel valued and understood.

"Thank you for being so open with me," GentleMistress says as the call comes to an end. "I think we're building a really good foundation here. Let's plan another call soon, and in the meantime, keep communicating through messages."

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a deep sense of gratitude. "I really appreciate how patient and understanding you've been."

After the call, you sit back and reflect on the evening. This journey is just beginning, but already it feels like you're on the right path. With GentleMistress guiding you, you feel a sense of anticipation building inside you, longing for the moment when her gentle touch becomes a reality.

You imagine the future chats, the moments of exploration, and the trust growing between you. The thought of GentleMistress by your side fills you with a warmth you hadn't felt in a long time.

Closing your eyes, you can almost sense her presence, her calming influence. You realize you're eagerly awaiting the next time you'll see her, the next opportunity to deepen this connection.

The following weekend, you decide to take a break from your usual routine and head to a cozy cafe downtown. As you enter, you scan the room for an empty table, and that's when you spot her—GentleMistress, sitting by the window, lost in thought as she sips her coffee.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of her, and you can't resist the urge to walk over.

"Hi," you say with a smile as you approach her table. "Fancy meeting you here."

GentleMistress looks up, surprise flickering in her eyes before a smile spreads across her face. "Well, hello there," she responds, setting her cup down. "What a pleasant surprise indeed."

You pull out the chair opposite her. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," she says, gesturing for you to sit. "Please, have a seat."

You settle into the chair, feeling a rush of excitement at being so close to her. The atmosphere is charged with possibility, and you can't help but let a playful grin tug at your lips.

"So, what brings you here today?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

"Just taking a break from work," GentleMistress replies. "And enjoying some coffee. What about you?"

"Same here," you say. "Needed a change of scenery. And I'm glad I stumbled upon you."

GentleMistress chuckles softly. "Well, I'm glad you did too."

The conversation flows easily between you, filled with laughter and shared stories. You find yourself flirting subtly, enjoying the playful banter with GentleMistress.

As the conversation continues, you muster up the courage to take it a step further. Leaning in slightly, you shoot her a teasing smile. "You know, I must say, you have the most captivating eyes."

GentleMistress's cheeks tint with a hint of pink, but she meets your gaze with a sparkle in her eyes. "Why, thank you," she replies, her tone playful. "Yours aren't too bad either."

You both share a moment of lingering eye contact, and the air between you crackles with tension. It's exhilarating, knowing that the attraction is mutual.

Before things can escalate further, GentleMistress glances at her watch. "Oh, look at the time. I should probably get going soon."

You feel a pang of disappointment but quickly recover. "Of course. I'll see you soon."

"Looking forward to it," she says with a smile, gathering her things.

As GentleMistress walks away, you watch her go, already counting down the moments until your next encounter.

You barely have time to settle back into your routine after leaving the cafe when your phone buzzes with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you see it's from GentleMistress.

"Hey there," the message reads, "I couldn't stop thinking about how lovely you looked today. Would you like to go out tonight? Dinner, perhaps?"

A rush of excitement floods through you at her message. It hasn't even been two hours since you saw her, and she's already texting you. You can't help but smile at her directness and enthusiasm.

Quickly typing a reply, you say, "Hi! That sounds wonderful. I'd love to go out with you tonight."

Almost immediately, another message comes through. "Great! I'll pick you up at 7. Wear something nice ;) Looking forward to it!"

Your heart races at the thought of spending more time with her so soon. You quickly agree and spend the rest of the afternoon eagerly anticipating the evening ahead.

As the clock ticks closer to 7, you find yourself getting ready with a mix of nerves and excitement. You choose your outfit carefully, wanting to make a good impression.

At exactly 7, there's a knock on your door, and when you open it, GentleMistress stands there, looking even more stunning than you remembered.

"Hi," she says, her smile lighting up her face. "You look amazing."

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "You look fantastic too."

With a smile, she offers you her arm, and together you head out for a night filled with good food, laughter, and the promise of something more between you.

As you step out with GentleMistress, now knowing her name is Yunjin, you feel a magnetic pull between you. The air crackles with anticipation as you walk side by side, the distance between you charged with unspoken desire.

The restaurant Yunjin has chosen is cozy and dimly lit, the perfect setting for an intimate evening. You're seated at a private corner table, and as you settle in, you can't help but notice the way Yunjin's gaze lingers on you.

"You look stunning tonight," she says, her voice low and filled with warmth.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of her gaze. "You look absolutely gorgeous too."

A smirk plays on Yunjin's lips as she leans in slightly. "I couldn't take my eyes off you earlier. You have this... captivating presence."

Heat rises to your cheeks at her words, and you find yourself drawn to her, unable to look away. The chemistry between you is undeniable, the tension thick in the air.

As the evening progresses, conversation flows easily between you, but underneath it all, there's an undercurrent of something more. Every touch, every glance is charged with electricity, sending tingles down your spine.

At one point, Yunjin's foot brushes against yours under the table, and you feel a jolt of excitement shoot through you. She meets your eyes with a knowing smile, her gaze smoldering with desire.

"You know," she says, her voice husky, "there's something about you that I find incredibly alluring."

Your breath catches in your throat at her words, your heart pounding in your chest. "Is that so?" you manage to reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yunjin leans in closer, her lips inches from yours. "Absolutely," she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin. "I can't seem to get you out of my mind."

The tension between you is palpable, the desire hanging heavy in the air. You're both on the edge of something exhilarating, something you both crave.

Before things can escalate further, the waiter interrupts, bringing your food and breaking the spell between you. But the intensity of the moment lingers, and you know this is only the beginning of something electrifying between you and Yunjin.

As you finish your meal, the tension between you and Yunjin remains palpable, simmering just beneath the surface. You both step out of the restaurant, and the cool evening air does little to cool the heat between you.

"Would you like to take a walk?" Yunjin suggests, her voice soft yet filled with a hint of anticipation.

"Sure," you reply, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of being alone with her, even just for a little while longer.

You stroll side by side along the quiet streets, the city lights casting a warm glow around you. The silence between you is comfortable, charged with unspoken desires.

After a while, Yunjin breaks the silence. "You know," she says, her voice low, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since we met."

The admission sends a thrill through you, and you turn to face her. "I've been thinking about you too," you confess, your heart racing.

Yunjin's gaze softens as she looks at you. "There's something about you that draws me in," she admits. "I feel like we have a connection, something special."

You nod, feeling the intensity of the moment. "I feel it too."

Without warning, Yunjin reaches out and gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her touch sending shivers down your spine. The intimacy of the gesture leaves you breathless.

"I want to kiss you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you meet her gaze, desire burning in her eyes. Without hesitation, you lean in, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet in a soft, electrifying kiss, and in that moment, the world around you fades away.

The kiss deepens, igniting a fire between you that feels impossible to extinguish. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in each other, the passion and longing consuming you both.

When you finally pull away, breathless and exhilarated, Yunjin smiles, her eyes sparkling with affection.

"We should do this again," she says, her voice filled with promise.

You nod, feeling a sense of excitement for what the future holds. "Definitely," you agree, knowing that this is only the beginning of something extraordinary between you.

As you walk hand in hand with Yunjin, the connection between you feels stronger than ever. You find yourselves drawn to a quiet park nearby, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a romantic ambiance around you.

Finding a secluded bench, you sit down together, the atmosphere heavy with the electricity of the moment.

Yunjin turns to you, her eyes reflecting the moonlight. "You know," she begins, her voice filled with sincerity, "there's something about you that I haven't felt in a long time."

Curious, you meet her gaze. "What is it?"

"It's like you awaken something inside me," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. "A desire to explore, to connect on a deeper level."

You feel a warmth spread through you at her words, knowing that you feel the same way. "I feel it too," you admit, reaching out to gently caress her hand.

Yunjin leans in closer, her breath mingling with yours. "I want to get to know you more," she says softly, her lips almost brushing against yours. "Every part of you, every inch of you."

The intensity of her gaze sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a hunger within you that you can't ignore.

"I want that too," you reply, your voice filled with longing.

Without another word, Yunjin closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. It's as if the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you and the intensity of your desire.

Lost in the moment, you let yourselves be consumed by the fire that burns between you, exploring each other with a hunger that can't be quenched.

When you finally break apart, breathless and exhilarated, Yunjin smiles at you, her eyes filled with tenderness.

"I'm so glad I met you," she whispers, her voice filled with sincerity.

"I'm glad I met you too," you reply, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

Yunjin's gaze holds yours, filled with a mixture of desire and affection.

"Would you like to go back to my house?" she asks softly, her voice laced with anticipation.

The question hangs in the air between you, and you feel a surge of excitement at the thought of being alone with her, of exploring this connection further.

A million thoughts race through your mind, but ultimately, you know what you want.

"Yes," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with determination. "I would like that."

Yunjin's smile deepens, and she stands up, offering you her hand. "Come on," she says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Let's go."

As you arrive at Yunjin's house, anticipation hangs thick in the air between you. She leads you inside, the warmth of the house enveloping you as you step through the door.

The soft glow of the lights creates an intimate atmosphere as Yunjin turns to face you, her eyes filled with desire. Without a word, she reaches out and pulls you into her arms, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

The kiss is electric, sending sparks flying through you as you melt into each other. Yunjin's lips are soft yet demanding, her hands trailing down your back, pulling you closer.

You respond eagerly, your hands tangling in her hair as you deepen the kiss. It's like you can't get close enough, your bodies pressing together as if trying to merge into one.

Lost in the moment, you stumble backward until your back meets the wall, Yunjin pressing against you, her body molded to yours. Every touch, every caress sends waves of pleasure through you, igniting a fire that burns hot between you.

Yunjin's lips trail down your neck, sending shivers down your spine as she nibbles and kisses along your skin. Your breath hitches with every touch, desire pooling low in your belly.

With a soft moan, you tilt your head back, giving her better access as she explores every inch of your neck with her lips and tongue.

The sensation is overwhelming, and you find yourself completely lost in the moment, consumed by the passion and desire that courses between you.

Yunjin's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour, setting your skin ablaze with need. You reciprocate, trailing your own hands along her back, reveling in the feeling of her pressed against you.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourselves in each other, the world outside fading away until there's nothing but the two of you and the fire that burns between you.

Yunjin breaks the intense silence, her voice husky with desire. "Let me take you to my room," she murmurs, her breath warm against your ear, "so I can show you why we met on that website."

Her words send a thrill through you, and you nod eagerly, unable to resist the pull of her invitation.

"Lead the way," you reply, your voice filled with anticipation.

Yunjin takes your hand and leads you down the hall to her bedroom, the air charged with excitement and longing.

As Yunjin guides you to her bedroom, the air crackles with anticipation. Once inside, she turns to face you, her eyes dark with desire and a soft, reassuring smile on her lips. Without a word, she steps closer, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, igniting the passion between you once more.

With practiced movements, Yunjin begins to undress you, her touch sending shivers down your spine as each piece of clothing falls away, leaving you bare before her.

"You're so beautiful," she whispers, her voice filled with reverence as she traces her fingers along your jawline.

Your heart flutters at her words, feeling completely at ease under her gentle gaze.

Yunjin's touch is tender yet purposeful as she begins to undress you, each movement filled with care and affection. As your clothes fall away, you stand before her, exposed and vulnerable yet entirely safe.

With a soft sigh, Yunjin leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It's like every touch, every caress is carefully calculated to make you feel cherished and desired.

As the kiss deepens, Yunjin's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour. Her touch ignites a fire within you, a hunger that only she can satisfy.

"I want to take care of you," she murmurs against your lips, her voice sending shivers down your spine. "To make you feel good."

You nod, unable to find words as desire pools low in your belly.

With a gentle push, Yunjin guides you onto the bed, her eyes never leaving yours. She leans over you, her body hovering just inches above yours, radiating warmth and tenderness.

"I want you to feel every touch," she says softly, her breath warm against your skin.

With that, Yunjin's hands begin to explore your body, tracing every curve and dip with reverence. Her touch is electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

As she moves lower, her lips trail kisses along your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Every touch, every caress is like a promise of ecstasy, building the anticipation to unbearable heights.

When she finally reaches between your legs, her touch is gentle yet firm, sending sparks of pleasure dancing along your skin. You gasp at the sensation, arching into her touch as she brings you to the edge of bliss.

"Yunjin," you whimper, your voice filled with need.

She meets your gaze, her eyes filled with love and desire. "I've got you," she whispers, her voice a soothing melody.

With slow, deliberate movements, Yunjin spreads your legs wider, exposing you completely to her gaze. Her fingers dance lightly over your skin, sending shivers of pleasure up your spine.

Then, with a teasing touch, Yunjin's tongue darts out, tracing a slow path along your folds, collecting your arousal as she goes. You gasp at the sensation, your breath hitching as she explores you.

Yunjin's tongue works magic, swirling and flicking against your clit, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Her fingers join in, slipping inside you with ease, filling you up and driving you wild with need.

You arch your back, pressing yourself closer to her, desperate for more of her touch. Yunjin responds eagerly, her movements becoming more intense, more insistent as she brings you closer to the edge.

With every flick of her tongue and every thrust of her fingers, you feel yourself unraveling, pleasure building to an exquisite peak.

"Oh, Yunjin," you moan, your voice filled with longing.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire as she continues to pleasure you, her touch relentless and intoxicating.

And then, with one final, mind-shattering wave of pleasure, you come undone in her arms, crying out her name as ecstasy washes over you.

Yunjin holds you close as you ride out the waves of pleasure, her touch soft yet messy, her fingers and lips leaving you utterly wrecked but completely satisfied in the best possible way.

Feeling you quivering with pleasure beneath her touch, Yunjin can't ignore the ache between her own legs. The desire to be inside you, to feel you wrapped around her, becomes almost unbearable.

With a soft groan, Yunjin positions herself above you, her hardness straining against her, aching to be buried deep inside you.

Hovering over you, she locks eyes with you, her gaze dark with need as she guides herself to your entrance. The anticipation sends a shiver down her spine as she presses forward, the tip of her hardness teasing your slick folds.

"I need to be inside you," she breathes, her voice thick with desire, her hips moving slowly forward, inch by inch.

You gaze up at her with longing, your own desire mirroring hers, and you nod eagerly, craving the feeling of her inside you just as much.

With a slow, deliberate pace, Yunjin pushes forward, her hardness sliding into you, filling you up until she's buried deep within your warmth. She pauses, savoring the feeling of being joined with you so intimately, the sensation almost overwhelming in its intensity.

"Oh fuck, you feel amazing," Yunjin groans, her voice husky with pleasure, her hips rolling against yours.

You gasp at the fullness of her, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. Wrapping your arms around her, you pull her closer, urging her to move.

Yunjin complies, starting to move with a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust is deliberate, calculated to drive you both closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you're so tight," she moans, her voice filled with admiration, her hips rocking against yours with increasing urgency.

Your body responds eagerly to her praise, your own arousal building with each movement. You meet her thrusts eagerly, your bodies moving together in perfect synchronization.

With every thrust, you feel the delicious pressure building inside you, pleasure mounting with each movement. Your bodies meld together, becoming one in the throes of passion.

Yunjin's pace quickens, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she chases her own release, her hips rocking against yours with increasing urgency.

"You're so fucking beautiful," she groans, her voice filled with reverence, her movements becoming more frantic as she approaches climax.

You arch into her, meeting her thrusts with equal fervor, your own need driving you both towards climax.

You arch into her, meeting her thrusts with equal fervor, your own need driving you both towards climax. Sensing your desire, Yunjin shifts position, pulling out of you gently before guiding you onto your hands and knees.

"Let's try something different," she whispers, her voice thick with arousal, her hands gripping your hips as she positions herself behind you.

You eagerly comply, feeling a surge of anticipation as Yunjin lines herself up behind you, her hardness pressing against your slick folds.

With a low growl of need, Yunjin enters you again, this time from behind, and you gasp at the sensation of being filled in a new way.

"Fuck," you moan, the new angle sending bolts of pleasure through you.

Yunjin's hands roam over your body, gripping your hips firmly as she sets a rhythm, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge.

"Oh god, yes," she groans, her voice thick with desire as she pounds into you from behind.

"You're doing so well," Yunjin praises, her voice soft yet commanding, her hips moving with purpose as she takes you.

You push back against her, meeting her thrusts with equal fervor, lost in the pleasure of being taken so completely by her.

With each movement, the intensity builds, pleasure mounting with each deep thrust. Your bodies move together in perfect harmony, driving each other towards ecstasy.

Yunjin's pace quickens, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she chases her own release, her hips rocking against yours with increasing urgency.

"You feel so fucking good," she moans, her voice filled with lust and admiration.

You're on the edge, the pleasure building to an exquisite peak, and with one final, powerful thrust, you both cry out in ecstasy as you find release together.

In the throes of orgasm, Yunjin spills her seed inside you, the warmth of her release adding to your pleasure as you clench around her, riding out the waves of ecstasy together.

Collapsed in a heap of pleasure, you both catch your breath, feeling utterly spent but completely satisfied.

After the intense release, you collapse together, breathing heavily, the air thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction. Yunjin, still holding you close, gently guides you to lie on your back, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Let me take care of you," she murmurs, her voice filled with tenderness.

You nod, feeling a shiver of anticipation as Yunjin settles between your legs, her fingers trailing down your body until they reach your sensitive core.

With a gentle touch, she begins to play with your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. Her touch is skilled, knowing exactly how to make you squirm and moan with delight.

"Oh, Yunjin," you whimper, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

She smiles up at you, her eyes filled with adoration. "You're so responsive," she praises, her voice sending a thrill down your spine.

Yunjin continues her ministrations, her fingers working magic on your sensitive flesh. Each stroke, each caress brings you closer to the edge once again.

You arch into her touch, craving more of her, feeling her seed spilling out of your cunt, mixing with your arousal.

"You're so beautiful like this," Yunjin whispers, her breath warm against your skin, her fingers never ceasing their delicious torture.

The pleasure builds and builds, until you're teetering on the brink once again, your whole body humming with need.

And then, with one final flick of her fingers, you tumble over the edge, crying out her name as pleasure washes over you in waves.

Yunjin holds you through your climax, her touch gentle and comforting as you ride out the aftershocks, feeling completely blissful in her embrace.

Yunjin holds you close, her touch gentle and reassuring as you both catch your breath. She presses soft kisses against your skin, her lips trailing along your neck and collarbone with tenderness.

"You're amazing," she murmurs, her voice filled with genuine affection, "thank you for trusting me."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at her words. "Thank you for everything," you reply, your voice soft with contentment.

Yunjin pulls you into a loving embrace, holding you as if she never wants to let go. The room is filled with a sense of peace and intimacy, a sanctuary where you can be completely yourselves.

"I want to take care of you," Yunjin says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

And she does just that, tending to you with gentle touches and sweet words. Whether it's wiping away stray tears, cuddling you close, or simply whispering words of comfort, she's there for you every step of the way.

You bask in her affection, feeling safe and cherished in her arms. There's nowhere else you'd rather be than here, wrapped up in this moment of love and intimacy.

As you lay together, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of happiness.

"I'm so glad I met you," Yunjin says, her voice filled with sincerity.

"Me too," you reply, snuggling closer to her, feeling completely at peace.

Yunjin pulls the covers over you both, tucking them snugly around you as if she's shielding you from the world. She presses a tender kiss to your forehead before snuggling close to you, her warmth comforting against your skin.

For a while, you simply lay there in comfortable silence, the only sound the quiet rhythm of your breathing. It's a moment of peace and closeness that you wouldn't trade for anything.

Yunjin reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, her touch gentle and loving. "You're welcome here anytime," she says, her eyes locking with yours.

You feel a rush of gratitude for her hospitality and her genuine kindness. With Yunjin, you feel accepted and cared for in a way you've never experienced before.

Snuggled together in the quiet of the night, you feel a sense of belonging, as if you've found a piece of home in each other's arms.

As sleep begins to claim you both, you drift off feeling grateful for this moment, and excited for the future that lies ahead with Yunjin by your side.

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Chapter 5: Part 2

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: Finding them wasn’t hard, not when they towered above everyone else with ease, and not when the people parted between you and them like the Red Sea. In spite of how many were gathered for the event, and the fact that the day wasn’t even about them, they monopolized all the attention without effort.

Of course, they would.

They were picture perfect – handsome, strong, alluring. They were the cream of the crop, even when they weren’t trying, and would be in any place they went to, not just within this small place you’d chosen to settle down in.

Something cold settled at the base of your esophagus as you processed what you saw.

You wished you hadn’t seen them. CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here) AN: angst, reader being very bad at feelings (dense as fucking bricks (seriously, don’t expect her to be smart or logical, she’s not)) | Smut, unprotected sex, p in v, p in a, fingering + anal, oral (f & m receiving), double pen in two holes, biting/marking Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2 WC: 15k

Fairy lights wrapped around the pergola, dipping between the wooden beams to create a droopy weave, illuminating the short dais used to officiate the wedding. A swarm of tables surrounded the front of it, dozens of candles lit all about. Plates were set atop each table, and the slips of paper to indicate whose seat belonged to who had been set aside when everyone took their place earlier to feast.

Meals were exchanged for dancing and partying, filling the landscape with loud festivities.

It resembled a dream, this hazy setting and ambient glow at the center of the park.

Dozens upon dozens of people had gathered to celebrate the day – you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire village had shown up. Given how tight-knit the community was here, it was logical that everyone and their dog would come to rejoice in the special occasion. It was lively with the sheer amount of people around, each chattering excitedly, high off the triumph of two coming together as one.

Following suit of the many before you, you had slipped off your sandals, using Satoru’s hand as support while you tucked them away somewhere out of the way, but easy to find.

The grass was pleasant under your bare feet, fluffy and cool, but not so cold as to be biting.

Frequently, you would skirt your hands along the texture of your dress, preening from the delight of feeling pretty. The last time you’d dolled yourself up like this was far enough in the past for you to not remember, so you were a tad obsessed.

You manifested being sexier as you were falling asleep in bed, and here you were! Sexy was the understatement of the century – you looked hot.

Too bad you were a hint shy of showing off during a wedding in a village you’d barely begun sprouting roots in. 

Satoru and Suguru had no similar qualms.

They were wholly eager to pose and strut you around on their arms like a queen. It was humiliating and exhilarating in equal measure. Acrimonious discontentment from other guests vying for your position rolled off your hydro-proof form, boosting your ego and leaving you untouchable.

It was humorous, really, to watch them fall over themselves to get the attention of one or both boys, blocked by the armor your existence alone made of them.

Good Lord, though, there were a lot of them.

You mentally tried to calculate how many of the people attending knew about Aoi’s and her fiancé’s – now husband’s – escapades through the evening. Maybe it was the whole village. You imagined it would be hard to not know; they sounded like foxes, or mountain lions, if she was in the mood to sound particularly murder-victim-esque.

You were grateful you didn't have to interact with the groom and bride much. Anytime you saw them, you remembered his bare ass on the one night you forgot about Shoko’s warning about Thursdays and learned the consequences the hard way. His half-ass (literally) had been seared into your mind.

Seeing familiar faces here brought you a comfort you didn’t know you needed, coaxing you to release your wound muscles. Granny was across the field, talking to Shoko and Iori. Scolding, more like. The old lady was tugging on the edge of Shoko’s mini dress, no doubt reprimanding her for the length of it.

Shoko could not have possibly been less bothered.

She had a drink in one hand, lit cigarette pinched between two fingers and pressed against the glass, and a shiteating smirk on her lips. You’d only ever seen her in baggy or thick clothes, but, wow, she pulled off that outfit like a model.

Utahime was hanging off her arm, three beers in and working on a fourth, using Granny’s distraction to chug away shamelessly. In contrast to Shoko, her clothing was modest, consisting of a floral-patterned maxi dress, her hair tied back into one ponytail as opposed to her typical pigtails.

You’d seen Kazuhiko, too, surprisingly. You two talked briefly, your short conversation consisting of you updating him on the state of your house and promising to show him at the next opportunity as his wife was dragging him off to socialize. His wife was hyper, enthusiastic about meeting everyone and sharing her congratulations to the couple. You envied her innocence, wishing for her to never have to experience what you did.

The sound of someone calling – screaming, to be more accurate – your name captured your attention. You spun, and found Suguru’s mother frantically waving her hands high above herself, as if she didn’t stand a head and a half above everyone else.

You grinned and waved back, then tugged on the sleeve of Satoru’s suit. “I’m gonna go talk with Suguru’s mom. I’ll be back soon.”

He and Suguru were placing bets on who would get shitfaced first between Utahime and Shoko, and barely spared you a nod. “Don’t take too long, princess!” He implored.

You vaguely confirmed you wouldn’t as you made your way to the woman, who came to meet you halfway, too impatient to wait for you to approach.

“Hi, Geto-mama,” you said, and swiftly got squished to her chest in a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh, my sweetie!” She squealed. “Aren’t you just the prettiest thing? Goodness, that dress looks amazing on you! Did you pick it out? It fits you so well!”

She spoke like a full-auto gun, babbling out words faster than sound.

“Thank you,” you rasped out, patting her back. “It was Suguru and Satoru, they got it for me.”

She grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you back to get a good look at you. She inspected your outfit from head to toe, scrutinizing. Eventually, you gained an extra dash of approval from her, making you feel honored.

“They did a fantastic job, those two. You look gorgeous, baby girl. Even better than the bride,” she acclaimed.

You blushed. “Don’t say that! This is her wedding!”

She bent down and cupped a hand around your ear. “Forgive me for favoring my beloved girl over the bride. Those two go at it like dogs, it’s hard to look her in the damn eye after seeing her husband’s bare ass.”

You gasped. “You, too!?”

Sympathy shined in her caramel eyes. “Oh, my darling child, the world is evil to have subjected you to the sight of that man’s poor excuse of a behind.”

You burst out into laughter, Yoriko doing the same shortly after. It was relieving to know you weren’t the only one traumatized by the sight of a pasty pair of cheeks, even more so that it was Geto-mama who understood your pain.

“Think they’ll go at it again tonight?” You asked, fanning your face to keep tears from ruining your makeup. “Y’know, consummation and all that.”

“Heavens, I hope not,” she feigned a gag. “I’ll down all the alcohol here in one go if they do that in the park of all places. God forbid they do it while the party is still going. At the very least, they could have some decency to go into the mountains, far from here.” 

“How many people do you think know about their, uh…activities?” You questioned, pointedly glancing around.

She stood akimbo. “Oh, it has to be everyone. I can hear them from my house, and that’s on the other side of the river. Thursday nights, we put on a movie and turn up the volume louder in hopes of drowning out the sounds. I mean, honestly, he can’t be that good at it.”

You hummed. “I thought someone was hurt when I first heard them go at it. She sounds so…”

“Scary,” Geto-mama finished for you. 

“Right!?” A full-body shudder went through you. “I didn’t know people could sound like that.”

She sighed and shook her head, choosing to move the topic over a few notches in a safer direction. “Well, aside from all that, how are you enjoying the wedding, sweet girl?”

“Unexpectedly fun,” you said. “I’ve only been to two other weddings in the past, and they were boring to the point of pain. Nothing to do, y’know? I wasn’t anticipating this one would be a borderline festival.”

“Everyone works together to make weddings memorable around here. We’re all one big family, in a sense. Their joy is our joy,” her lips pulled up into a motherly sort of fondness, directed at you. “You’ll see when it’s your turn, baby girl. I’m glad you came, I was worried you’d be overwhelmed. You’re always welcome, you know?”

You didn’t want to disappoint Yoriko by telling her you wouldn’t be getting your own turn. Instead, you looped your arms around her waist and squeezed. “Thank you, Geto-mama. I’m happy I got to see you today!”

She patted your head. “Likewise, sweetheart. Now, off you go! I’m sure the boys are missing you, I’ve kept you long enough.”

Releasing her, you stepped back, beaming at her. “It was good to see you! We’ll talk more soon?”

“Absolutely!” She agreed and made shooing motions with her hands. “Go, go. Don’t keep them waiting!”

Taking her advice, you faced the party and sought them out. They weren’t where you last left them, likely having moved around to mingle and share in the merriment. You stood up on your toes, searching for either ivory or obsidian tresses.

It didn’t take you long.

Finding them wasn’t hard, not when they towered above everyone else with ease, and not when the people parted between you and them like the Red Sea. In spite of how many were gathered for the event, and the fact that the day wasn’t even about them, they monopolized all the attention without effort.

Of course, they would.

They were picture perfect – handsome, strong, alluring. They were the cream of the crop, even when they weren’t trying, and would be in any place they went to, not just within this small place you’d chosen to settle down in.

Something cold settled at the base of your esophagus as you processed what you saw.

You wished you hadn’t seen them. 

You wished they were hidden so that you’d have to push through a crowd to find them. Maybe then, you would have been too close to realize. If that were the case, you would have had a chance to stop what was unraveling in slow motion before you.

They were surrounded by a group of girls – beautiful girls – each one fluttering their thick lashes and puckering their merlot-painted lips. You could hear their obnoxious, high-pitched giggles from clear across the field, over the music and yammering and the droning spring air. One grabbed onto Suguru’s arm, hugging it so tightly between her bust, you thought she might cut off the circulation in his fingers between her tits.

Instead of pulling away, he tipped his head down and said something you couldn’t decipher from attempting to read his lips alone at this distance, to which she laughed.

Something uncomfortably tight formed in your chest, a twist centered beneath your breastbone. It pinched, stung; a poisoned needle shooting straight into your stomach.

Paper lanterns.

A knife had wedged itself between your innards too snuggly, the exact same temperature as the rest of your body, the only proof of its existence being the displacing sensation of your intestines and the spreading chill that zapped under your skin like instant ice. The pit in your belly dropped to your heels, heavy as a sack of sand.

Your fingertips trembled, frozen over and stiff and numb, regardless of the warmth that they contained mere moments ago.

You felt sick, and you didn’t understand why.

It came on so suddenly that you never would have been able to avoid it, even if you knew it was coming. The rotting sensation burrowed itself deep into your gut, impossibly dense and suffocating. Its hands crawled up your insides, wiggling between your ribs and lungs to wrap spindly fingers around your throat.

Satoru winked at the lady in front of him.

Those fingers squeezed.

You got the inkling that they didn’t want you to be their date for the sake of, well, being their date. For the sake of laughing, dancing, eating, and drinking together. For being with each other, with your friends, cherishing the evening by toasting and clinking glasses and sharing stories. For meaning something to one another.

It was for the sake of keeping annoyances off their backs.

The women only flocked to them as soon as you left for a few minutes. Together, the three of you were unapproachable, and you were unbothered by the vile, envious glares pinned on you. Hell, you found it funny.

Now that you were gone, their shield had been removed.

This wasn’t about you and them, it never was. It was only about them.

In a trio, there’s always a duo.

It was your fault for getting greedy, for deluding yourself into believing you were more to them than a barrier. You had nobody to blame but yourself for the clawing sensation creeping up the column of your gullet that forced saliva to flood your mouth, lest its acid slip out.

Respiring felt so difficult, like trying to inhale through a straw, each gasp shallow and dizzying.

You siphoned a thick breath in, a quivering thing, and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea coated your insides, choking you, sitting on your epiglottis.

Disgust curled in your gut as the girl attached to Suguru’s arm leapt up from her tip-toes and planted a kiss on his cheek – one that left a stain in bright red in the shape of her lips, vaguely love-shaped. 

She marked him. 

She marked Suguru, who hated the feeling of anything sticking to his skin. Suguru, who hated having his personal space invaded. Suguru, who hated excessive affection.

Suguru, whose lips curled upwards.

Suguru, who gave the peppy girl that smile, the one you adored so much, the one that always lifted your spirits and made you feel safe and seen.

The one you thought he only gave you.

Suguru, who shattered your heart.

Tether.

Something in you fissured, then simply broke. The stilts holding you up hewed, sending you careening towards the ground with no way to catch yourself.

The winds died, the gales gave your fragile wooden frame one last, harsh clap, and you were falling.

Kite.

You couldn’t stand the suffocation anymore, couldn’t stand to see them be so inviting and enticing to everyone. You feared you’d throw up if you stayed any longer. What you had already seen was soldered to your consciousness, engraved behind your eyes so that every time you closed them, you saw Satoru and Suguru, basking in affection. 

Forgetting you.

Nobody noticed you walking towards the edge of the plain, where you had left your sandals in favor of enjoying the soft grass under your soles while you pranced. Your sandals were in the same spot you left them, amidst the ocean of others.

For some reason, they were abnormally strenuous to put on. Your fingers vibrated viciously, frustrating you as you shoved your feet into them and tried to slip the ends of the straps through the buckles. 

You cursed under your breath, struggling, fighting. Once you finally managed, you pulled them hard, clearly over tightening them. You didn’t care. You just wanted to leave. To go far, far, far away.

The second you were certain they wouldn’t fall off, you stepped onto the road and turned towards the direction of home. 

Your home, where you’d be alone.

You ignored the sharp pain of the cords digging and cutting into your Achilles tendons, too caught up in the hurricane of your emotions to pay attention to much else.

A tornado whirled through your skull, jumbling everything until you were left with a sensation of panic thrumming beneath your skin, scratching from the inside out. Words were thrown, lost, confused, but one thought shined clear as day.

Run.

The streets seemed so much darker. It had to have been your imagination, seeing as you were leaving the massive gathering, where life and light was. It only exacerbated your anxiety, urging you to run faster, break out into a sprint, leave everything behind.

The voice was back, the one that crowed and trilled and spewed acrid threats into your ear. The one that whispered how worthless you were, how you weren’t wanted, how you had to turn tail and vanish ayond eyesight. You’d overstayed your welcome.

You didn’t understand what you were feeling. Anger? Betrayal? Hurt? Fear? Plain old sadness?

You didn't know what, and you didn't know why. All you knew was that you hated it.

You had no reason to feel this way, and would not be vindicated for doing so. Why had it mattered to you to see them flirting with others? Who were they to you? 

Your friends, obviously. That’s all they could be.

If that was the case, who were you to them?

…Were you their friend?

You didn't want to think about it. It made the strained clamps around your lungs constrict further, you couldn’t afford it.

The shift between asphalt and packed dirt went unregistered by you, all sensation to the physical world lost. Goosebumps raised along your arms, prickling, yet you didn’t sense it. Not the way you clawed at your forearm for a sense of stability, searching for anything to ground you.

A year.

You lasted a year.

A new record to be proud of, throwing the last one out of the water by a landslide. You hadn’t stayed in one location for nearly as long as this since you were a child.

You should have been bragging to yourself, parading with the knowledge that you might have been getting better after all this time.

All you wanted to do was die.

You hugged yourself, staving off the cold by reflex more than conscious action. The houses had become further spaced out, the sidelines blurred. Your body was moving on autopilot, unseeing as muscle memory took you the rest of the way home.

What were you doing? Thinking? You should have known this would happen. You did know, but chose to ignore it, and for what? You played yourself by getting attached when you were aware from the beginning that it would all come to an end sooner or later. You got greedy, took more than you were allowed, selfishly ripped a mile from your mind when you were offered less than an inch. 

This was your fault. You were the cause of this. You became complacent. You stopped walking when you should have just kept going. 

“Idiot, idiot, idiot, you goddamn, stupid bitch!” You whisper-shouted at yourself as you dug the spare key out from under the doormat and jammed it into the lock of your door, unaware of the exact timing of your arrival. The door fought against you, further enraging you.

Your feet ached, skin sore and wounded, yet it felt like nothing in comparison to the gnawing in your stomach. Your body was on fire, begging for reprieve, anything to lift the pain and mend the hurt.

You shoved open the door and angrily stomped inside, slamming a palm against the wall on your left.

Barely two steps into your home and you had all but ripped off your sandals with enough force to damage the straps. The relief of pressure off your ankles only served to aggravate the reddened and tender flesh affected by your apathy towards yourself. Exposed to air, your heels throbbed. You tried to let it anchor you, but it didn’t work.

Wrathfully moving forward, you grabbed the bottom hem of your dress and tugged it over your head and off yourself harshly. Your arm wound up to throw it, but your body seized, a shock zapping through your nervous system.

 Even in distress, with your mind anywhere but a state of clarity, you still couldn’t bring yourself to disrespect something given to you.

Something they gave you.

Your hands trembled as you laid it across the back of the couch, plucked the corsages from your wrists to place on the coffee table, and you used your pent up energy on your poor bra instead. You unclasped the sucker and catapulted it somewhere with all the force you could muster, and chased it down with a long-suffering scream that tore up your throat.

How fortunate you were to live where nobody could hear you retch and sob.

Every nerve in your body felt like a spring, pressed down, ready to burst. All under your skin, live wire writhed, raring to shred through measly flesh and bone. At this point, you just wanted it to be over with. You’d let them leer and scorn as they seared through your senses agonizingly, then shut off your feelings altogether, so long as it put you out of your misery. 

The tightness in your muscles made you shake and wheeze, pain jolting from the center of your chest, down your limbs, stinging in the tips of your fingers. Doing anything was a struggle in this state.

You hated what adrenaline did to you. 

You hated yourself.

Gritting your teeth and resisting the urge to claw your way into your own stomach, you channeled that energy into rushing down the hall to your bedroom.

That poor door didn’t deserve to have your anger taken out on it, but you couldn’t find a shit or two to give. Not now, not when everything around you was collapsing. Skyscraper zeniths were crumbling, towering concrete monstrosities aiming to crush you.

And, hell, you’d let them.

Your dresser earned itself a beastly growl from you when you opened it too harshly, causing it to close back up. You wanted to tear everything apart, to rake your nails through wood and stone and bone and dig until your nails were broken and dirt was caked deep into your dermis. Surely, then, the pain would go away.

Clothing rustled violently, short of enough friction to start a fire by a millimeter. You scavenged, unsure of what you were searching for until your fingers closed around the texture your brain subconsciously required to calm itself.

You pulled out the t-shirt, and stalled.

It was the one Suguru gave you. Rather, the one you ‘stole’ with his blessing, but his regardless.

The black material was soft in your grasp, worn and well-loved, a few sizes too big for you. There was a faded band logo on the front of it, colors now grayscale after years of appreciation.

Your hands visibly trembled as you loosened the unfair death grip you had on the top. It didn’t deserve your indignation, your pain. It didn’t deserve to have its fibers pulled too far, to have its devotion to being a quality material shorn from it. It was a shirt, after all, not the source of your suffering. 

Its previous owner was; that didn’t shift the blame to the cloth. 

But, it reminded you of him.

It reminded you of what you saw at the park, the helplessness that came with having your world crumble before you even knew you were living in it, the hopelessness that came with knowing you’d never be able to rebuild it.

It reminded you of the chai he made, of the way he’d coat your clean hair with leave-in conditioner to smooth down the frizz and encourage silkiness.

The way he’d hold your hands in winter to keep out the burn of frost, the way he’d let you lean against him as he read, the way his long fingers would diligently trace the sketched pattern of your wall, painting life into it. 

It reminded you of what it meant to be happy.

Your teeth clicked together, jaw jittery. You clenched it, muscles jumping in your neck.

It didn't help.

The shirt moved around in your palms, peeled open to allow it to slip onto your bare self, covering the short hairs that sprung up from the chill of being naked.

A shaky breath filled your lungs, and you pressed the heel of your hand against your sternum. Your heart thudded and wept so loudly, so angrily, so painfully. You could feel it all the way through to your elbow, hear it beat against your eardrums, taste its toxic copper on the back of your tongue.

Most of your mind had shut down to a lowered percentage of function that made everything fuzzy. You were missing time. How long you stood in your room, doing nothing, you didn’t know. You weren’t aware you had gone to the bathroom until you were partially through cleaning off all the hard work you’d put into prettying yourself up.

You stopped, staring at yourself in the reflection of your mirror.

You looked…tired. Felt it, too. 

You looked like you were hanging on by your fingers, losing trust in your strength. 

It was so tempting to let go.

Choosing not to waste more energy than necessary on it, you finished what you started, washing away the color and vitality from your face. Bit by bit, you lost more of who you were, and gained more of who you used to be. 

Ordinary. Unmemorable. Broken.

Beneath the façade existed the truth you’d tried to cover, to pretend didn’t exist. For months, you’d succeeded in this endeavor, in playing the part of normal. It was catching up to you, and you were out of breath, exhausted, and empty.

You couldn’t avoid it any longer.

Prying your lids apart, you peered at the bottom of the mirror, meeting the unwavering, morbidly curious stare of a young girl.

You looked like her, a little. Same eyes, same curve to your upper lip, same hair color. You were older, familiar and not at the same time. Your eyes were sunken, cheeks hollow. Physically present, but not entirely there. Eyes glazed with a thousand-yard vacancy.

She peered back at you, doe-eyed with innocence and yet-to-be-abandoned faith. Her head fell to the side, little hands holding the edge of the sink to see better. Silently, she tried to pick you apart, to figure out who you were, why you shared a face, but looked so dead in comparison.

What did she see, you contemplated. Did she see hope for the future, the reassurance that she’d grow up, have her own home, be safe from the clutches of a man unloving? That it’d all be okay one day? 

Or, did you break her dreams down with the reality that it never would, all without saying a word to one another?

If you could speak to her, what would you say? Would you sit her down, hold her hands, and tell her to give up while she was still ahead? Would you be brutal in your honesty, crush her with the fact that entropy was hovering by the corner, waiting to pounce on her the moment she let down her guard? Would you sit and watch as her confusion morphed into fear, then sadness, then acceptance, all without ever once showing sympathy?

Or, would you lie to her, as your mother had? Would you run your fingers through her hair listlessly, promising her a world that would never be hers? Would you promise her the Sun and Moon, knowing they’d never belong to her?

All those options, yet you stayed mute. You didn’t have anything nice to say to her, so you said nothing.

She opened her mouth, but closed it again, choosing better of it. Hopping off the stool she stood on, she moved away from the mirror and exited the bathroom, and you were seeing yourself again, as you were at present.

There wasn’t much worth examining. Exhaustion and weariness, that’s all there was.

You padded out of the room and to the kitchen, opening a cupboard and standing on your toes. Mugs lined the bottom shelf, but they all went ignored in favor of a specific one.

Your fingers closed around the handle of the ceramic you wanted, taking it from its storage. The surface was smooth to the touch, fired to a glossy sheen that protected its shape and paint.

There was a reason you wanted this one in particular – Satoru had given it to you.

He’d made it himself. He didn’t tell you how, or when he’d done that. You brought into question whether he did make it, or if he was only claiming that to impress you, as it was too well-made to have been created by a novice. Your doubts were dispelled when he had you flip it over and graze your thumb over his signature. It was stamped into the material, indented into clay before being placed in a kiln.

On closer inspection, there were imperfections in it. Bumps, ridges, the hallmarks of something created with his own two hands. Of course, you treasured it. Nobody had given you a gift like it before, and the fact that it came from Satoru only served to further your adoration of it.

You dropped a tea bag and two sugar cubes into it, waiting for the water in your kettle to boil.

The house was dark, all lights extinguished save for the stove overhead and a lamp in the living room. More would only cause you further undue pain. You weren’t sure if you could handle any more, it risked crumbling you completely.

Alertness was returning to you in pieces. You were more aware of your environment and what you were doing, the trade off being completely zoning out in bursts.

The kettle whistled, and you turned it off, pouring the liquid into your mug. Amber leaked out of the tea bag, seeping into the surrounding clearness. Steam rose up, smelling of chamomile and lavender. A suggestion from Suguru.

He was everywhere. Satoru was everywhere. Even in your own home, you couldn’t escape them.

Realization hit you like a train rolling down a hill at full speed, crashing directly into your fragile self with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

A teardrop, leaden and blisteringly hot, rolled over your cheek. It carved a new track for itself over your dry skin, beading downwards, following the curve of your jaw, eventually dripping off your chin after accumulating enough weight. A small ripple formed in your ignored tea, inconsequential and so, so powerful. It stirred the seas, warning of rainfall.

“You’re in love, idiot,” you whispered to yourself. 

The physical realm dissipated from your perception, replaced by visions of them. The two dorks that somehow found a way into your heart, who convinced you to stay without saying a word. The days you spent together under the sun, dipping into the river, watching movies and eating popcorn. The endless amount of time they spent helping you build yourself a home, picking out paint colors and floor styles and furniture, aiding you in constructing something that was yours.

Everything around you was because of them. The Sun and Moon you were promised, dominating the skies everywhere across the world. They swallowed the world, they were everywhere you looked, at least one of them visible at all times.

Of course you loved them, who wouldn’t? They were perfect.

They breathed, and the planet breathed with them. Flowers bloomed for their sakes, the oceans’ tides bent to their wills, the stars reveled on the tracks they created as the solar system they ruled hurtled through space. It was only inevitable you’d fall for them the same way everyone else had.

You tried to laugh, but the noise that came out was more akin to a wounded animal than a girl having a grand revelation about herself.

Where had you gone wrong?

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Suguru grimaced at the uncomfortable sensation of lipstick residue on his cheek, immediately grabbing a nearby napkin to wipe it off as soon as the girl who left it there pivoted to smack the arm of the girl beside her. The smile he gave her was so tight-lipped and strained, he was worried he'd pop a blood vessel.

He couldn't stand the feeling of any sort of lingering texture on his skin. It made him hyper aware of the spot and caused his flesh to crawl uncomfortably. What happened to personal space? Decorum?

Basic respect for one’s autonomy? Not invading someone’s territory to toe the line of assault?

He got groped more times than he cared to count, and though he smirked and pretended to indulge the hive of bees trying to roast them alive, he was disgusted. He felt nauseous and filthy, the air stifling and sour. How much more of this would he have to endure?

“I miss our mochi,” Satoru lamented to him, not doing all that better. “What’s taking her so long?”

He scanned the field for any sign of you. You weren’t hard to spot, and you said you’d be back soon, yet it had now been…

Suguru glanced down at his watch, a frown marring his expression. Twenty minutes had passed since they last saw you. That was much longer than what he would have liked. Five minutes would have already been pushing it, but twenty? Just how distracting were these girls that the pair lost sight of you for twenty torturous minutes?

“Do you think she’s okay?” He asked the man beside him. “She’s been gone a while.”

 Blue eyes narrowed as he, too, began searching the sea of heads to try and spot your hair, or the sparkle of the dress they had given you. Nothing, nada, zip. His jaw clenched, anxiety beginning to spawn beneath his lungs. 

He faked a smile to address the annoying group still hounding them, pushing his way out. Though he usually loved the attention, it was insufferable to him now. “Sorry, ladies, I need to do something real quick.”

“Aww, Satoru-san, come back!” One whined, giving him an exaggerated pout.

“I’ll be just a minute,” he responded automatically, already having pointed his attention elsewhere. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed your number as he walked further away to distance himself from the excessive volume of the party.

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

His head twisted in the direction of a familiar ringtone.

Three times.

By the chair you had been sitting at earlier that evening, eating with everyone at your table, your purse sat unattended.

Four times.

He stalked towards it and crouched down, mentally apologizing to you for digging through your stuff.

Five times.

He pulled out your phone, seeing his own contact displayed on the screen. You never changed it, still the same as the day he created it. ✨❤️Satoru❤️✨ flashed on the LCD, mocking him.

‘Hey, sorry I missed your call. Feel free to try again later if I don’t call you back first. Thanks.’

Voicemail.

He pulled his own phone away from his ear and stood slowly, glancing over towards the line of shoes not far from him. Yours were missing.

“Shit.” 

He stuffed your phone back into your purse and looped it onto his wrist as he hurriedly made his way back to Suguru, who initially looked relieved upon seeing Satoru’s return, only for that rigid façade of his to disappear instantly.

“What is it–”

“She left,” Gojo interrupted.

Geto’s expression darkened. “She left? Are you sure?”

“Her sandals are gone. Her purse and phone are still here, I can’t reach her.”

“Fuck,” Suguru muttered, pushing his way out from the burning honeybee group, breaking from their restraints. The cries and plaints of the swooning girls had filtered into the background to the two boys. “Where do you think she went?”

The pale-haired man led the other out towards the edge of the clearing. “Dunno. Fuck, we should have been with her. What if something happened to her?”

“Let’s not jump to the worst case, Satoru. Where’d you last see her?”

He scraped through his memory, trying to recall. It was too noisy, whirring filling his mind. The last time he could remember seeing you was when…

His body spun, and he marched over to the two other people he could think to ask.

“Utahime, Shoko.”

Utahime glanced around, her expression souring upon seeing Satoru. “Ugh, it's you. What do you want?”

“Have you seen her?”

She raised a brow. “Seen who? Need a name or something.”

He said your name, and the sass in her withered away. Her distaste twisted into worry as she realized he was being dead serious. “Wait, she's not with you guys?”

“You lost her?” Shoko asked incredulously, aware of the endearment the boys felt towards you.

“That's why we're here,” Suguru said.

Her fingers pinched her chin in consideration, concern etched in her browline. “Isn’t she with Yoriko-san? That’s where I last saw her.”

The nox-haired man searched about, spotting his mother as she gossiped with her other mom-friends. “Mom!”

Unperturbed the sound level, the woman’s head snapped up, always aware of when her child called for her. She speed walked towards them, brows knitting in worry as she grabbed his hands. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Have you seen angel?” His doting name for you slipped through in his stress.

If she noticed, she was kind enough to not point it out, recognizing the severity in his tone. She frowned. “She told me she’d go look for you boys after we chatted. She could have gotten lost? There’s many people here, after all.”

Satoru shook his head and lifted your items for emphasis. “Her sandals are gone, but her purse and phone are still here.”

Yoriko took a good, long, hard look at both boys. She saw something in their faces they didn’t know, and her shoulders slumped a few inches. Her grim expression changed into a different mien – remorse? Shame?

“I bet you’ll find her at her house,” she stated, releasing Suguru’s hands.

Suguru and Satoru matched one another, disappointment and distress burrowing in their guts. You really had left? Why?

“Her house?” Satoru mumbled. “Why?”

The older woman crossed her arms over her chest. “Normally, I’d discourage men from seeking out women when they want to be alone, but I’m making an exception for this case.”

“Alone? Do you know what happened?” Shoko probed.

Yoriko hummed noncommittally. “She probably saw something she didn’t want to see.”

“Saw something? What? What’d she see?” Satoru was becoming frenetic.

She shook her head. “That’s not for me to say. Go talk to her, boys.”

That was all the encouragement – or, rather, ordering – the two needed. They hardly spared a word to the others as they darted off, marking your house as their destination.

Questions swirled in their minds, individual and linked all at once. Why had you left? What had you seen? What the hell was Yoriko talking about, and why in the world was she so damn vague about it? She clearly knew more than they did, the least she could have done was clue them in on it.

They didn’t speak to each other, both busy in their own heads as they raced to your place, hoping and praying they’d find you there. 

The streets were too dark for Satoru’s liking this removed from town, the road illuminated by the sorrowful moon hanging above. The idea of you walking alone unnerved him, set him on edge. You could have gotten hurt, or worse, or – oh, god, what if something bad happened to you? You’d been alone this whole time, and they didn’t know. Where did you go? What were you thinking?

Geto was known to be the calmer of the two. Steady, logical, rational.

He was beyond ration right now. He alternated between wanting – needing – to take you into his arms and never let go, to assure himself that you were okay, alive, there, and wanting to reprimand you for your behavior. You should have let them know, told them you were done and wanted to go home. They would have walked you, protected you, taken care of you.

He milled his teeth to control himself. He couldn’t assume, he didn’t know what caused you to leave. Hell, maybe you hadn’t gone at all, and you all merely missed each other at the party?

Suguru was the first one to make it to your door, knuckles rapping against the wood.

Satoru was panting behind him, alternating his weight between his feet, ready to book it back to the park if he had to. 

There was silence on the other end, then, very faintly, they heard rustling.

Movement from inside, confirming you were here. Now, to answer the remaining questions.

They were prepared to interrogate you, but all those words died on the backs of their tongues, tasting of ash and soot, when the door peeled open.

Oh.

Red rimmed your eyes, your cheeks still damp after you tried to hastily wipe them dry, your brows wound tightly together. Confusion flickered across your features first, tailed by embarrassment.

Something did happen to you.

You had been crying.

“Angel?” Suguru stepped forth and cupped your jaw gently, thumbing away at your tearstained skin. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Instead of leaning into his touch like you so yearned to, you forced yourself to pull back, giving a painfully fake laugh. Your voice was fraught, a little raspy, wet. “Nothing happened. Everything is fine, why do you think something happened?”

“You’re bad at lying, mochi,” Satoru refused to let you dodge the topic. “What happened? Who do we need to beat up for making you cry?”

“Gu-uys,” you hiccuped and tried to turn away further, to recede deeper into your house. “Seriously, I’m fine–”

“You’re not fine,” Suguru grasped your upper arm and pulled you towards him. “What happened?”

Your eyes flickered between his, then Satoru’s, words stuck to your palate. How easy it would be to say I wish you’d look at me and not those girls.

I want you.

I need you.

How easy it would be to just spill your heart and soul out onto the floor, say the things you wanted to tell them, but knew you couldn’t.

I love you. Both of you.

If you told them, you'd ruin everything. And then you'd have to run.

Again.

All you knew was how to run.

You didn't know how far you would make it if you lost everything you had created, grown, and made here, with them.

You squeezed your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms to brace yourself. Focus on the pain. “I just don’t…really know anyone from the party. Not personally, anyway, so…I didn’t wanna be the odd duck out, you know?” Lie. A terrible lie, and everyone present knew it. You pushed on regardless. “Haha…would be kinda weird for the new girl to hang out at this wedding when nobody knows her. I-I was feeling a bit tired, too.”

You were aware that you were rambling, but you couldn’t stop it naturally. You opened your mouth, and it was hard to close it again.

You'd been living here for a year. It was a poor cover up at best. While it was true you didn’t know a good amount of folks on a level further than acquaintances, it's not like you were a complete stranger to these backwoods. And there were people you knew well enough to consider friends besides Gojo and Geto.

 Satoru’s frown grew, but he decided against pointing out your fallacy. “But, we know you, mochi. Why didn’t you come back to us? We were waiting for you.”

“Oh,” you broke eye contact, peering elsewhere, anywhere but them. Your fingers trembled as you tucked your hair behind your ear, trying to shove out the discomfort in your chest at the reminder. The scene played in your mind all over again, of the boys talking to those girls, smiling at them, laughing with them.

You had to make yourself believe it was something else causing your ribs to cave in on your lungs.

It wasn’t jealousy. Really, it wasn’t.

But…if it wasn’t jealousy, then why did you feel sick to your stomach when you witnessed one of the girls, who was prettier than you, grasp Satoru’s collar and pull him down to whisper things in his ear? Why did he smile like that afterwards? Like he liked what he heard? Like he liked her? What did she say? Why–

You swallowed thickly, the sensation dry as it scratched down your gullet like nails on sandpaper. Your throat was too crammed, too tense, too itchy. It took all your strength to speak normally, and even then, you weren’t sure you succeeded.

“You guys were busy,” you finally replied.

“Busy?” Suguru repeated, his inflection powder soft, his eyes softer.

Don’t, you pleaded silently. Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t stare at me like that.

If you knew what that does to me.

If you knew what you both do to me.

You nodded and plastered on a faux simper, one that twitched at the corners of your lips and didn’t reach your eyes. “You had a whole flock of girls around you. Who am I t-to take the attention of the two most eligible bachelors away from them?”

Damn you for stuttering, and damn your voice for growing uneven, and damn you for being a mess. Weak, pitiful. Since when were you so mellow, such a pussy?

The boys had the audacity to let their faces morph to show their confusion, as if trying to recollect what you were talking about.

Suguru was the first to piece together what happened, if the way his eyes widened minutely was anything to go by, but Satoru spoke before he could. And more bluntly, too, of course. “Oh, sweetie,” he hushed, tension dropping from him as a grin drew up his mouth. “You’re jealous.”

You startled and lifted your hands to deny his accusation. “N-No! What? Haha, th-that’s– no, it’s not like th-at at all!”

He put on a smug mien as he crossed his arms over his chest, acting like he just figured you out.

He did, technically, but you didn’t want to give him that victory. Especially not over such a benign and childish matter as this.

“Angel,” the noiret allayed himself, delicately cupping your cheek to nudge your head in his direction. “Is that what’s going on? Were you jealous of those girls?”

Your jaw flexed. God, it sounded pathetic. Jealous over a group of gorgeous women who had more to offer than you? It’s not like either boy was interested in you romantically anyway, and you weren’t dating one or the other. You had no reason to be jealous, you weren’t owed anything. 

It wasn’t fair for you to expose such petty problems to them, let alone blame them for it. They may have had your heart, but you didn’t have theirs. 

Yet, your lip wobbled, your lungs refused to work properly, and your eyes welled up, anyway. Biting the inside of your cheek raw wasn’t fending off your emotions, not anymore, and you couldn’t dislodge the frog from your throat long enough to talk.

The worry in Suguru’s expression melted away, replaced with understanding and something else you couldn’t decipher. His fingers shifted from holding your cheek to curling over the back of your neck while his other hand coiled around your waist, bringing you close to him. His forehead pressed against yours and his breath fanned across your cheeks, slow and measured.

“You have nothing to be jealous about,” he reassured you with a sympathetic murmur. 

The tears fell before you had a chance to stop them. It could have been the wine you drank earlier, or the overstimulation from the party.

Or, it was the way they held the glass fledgling budding in the nest of your soul carefully in their hands. They had cracked the shell casing it had, the one that protected you from making attachments. They pushed the gates wide for everyone, all the close friends you made in this village sneaking into your life without you noticing, and the boys were at the front, leading the pack.

“I’m s-so-sorry,” you stammered out, sucking uneven gasps of air past your bottom lip. Your arms wound tightly around his neck and you buried your face against his shoulder, muffling your sniffling. “It’s– it’s stupid, so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, angel. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he comforted you, rubbing your back in easy circles.

Satoru came to your side, sweeping your hair away from your neck. “You really don’t need to be jealous. We’re not interested in any of them.”

“We don’t want any of those girls,” Suguru’s deep voice rumbled against your chest. “We want you.”

Your heart stopped, broke, started, and sprouted new petals at his confession. It bounced in your head, struggling to stick, to process, to be true.

“B-But they’re–” sob, “s-so…much more. They’d do– do any-thing f-for you – hic! – you.”

“And you?” Suguru checked, his voice barely a whisper as it brushed against your neck. “Would you do anything for us?”

His question stunned you. You froze, your thoughts hovering, struggling to focus when they both were close and warm. Your head lifted slowly, eyesight blurry as your gaze flickered between them.

The Sun and Moon incarnate. 

What a stupid question.

You worshiped them and the ground they walked on, a devout and zealous follower. You’d listen to everything they told you with reverence; you'd pray for them day and night, you’d water the soil with your own blood if they asked.

“...Yes,” you breathed out, finding balance while adrift at sea, a moment of peace in the cyclone of your emotions. “Anything.”

Satoru huffed near your ear and you could feel the curve of his smile where he pressed it into your jaw. “The difference between you and those girls, mochi…”

“Is that, for you, we'd scorch the earth and rend the sky without hesitation, should you ever wish it,” raven hair tickled your shoulder, plush lips hovering on the slope of your neck, brushing over your vulnerable, sensitive pulse.

“For those girls, we would do nothing. Even if they begged on their knees, we'll only ever accept your commands,” ocean-kissed eyes filled your vision, shimmering with raw, unfiltered emotion; something warm, and blazing, calling you like a moth to blue flame.

You shuddered at the vibration from Suguru’s murmurs traveling through your body. “All you have to do is say yes.”

Laying somewhere within the turmoil in your chest, your soul fluttered, yearning, hoping. “You want me?”

“We do,” they replied simultaneously.

“Both of you?”

“Both of us.”

Their resolute answer felt so unreal, so deafening in the fog of your scattered thoughts. Your fingers reached, but hesitated just before they made contact with what you so desired – as if waiting for it to be ripped away. “...Really?” 

“Really,” the man holding you in his grasp confirmed, admiring you with such fondness and devotion, you’d think he was seeing a goddess, rather than the simple girl you were. He was pleading more than demanding. “Say yes.”

“Please, princess,” Satoru acted equally as desperate, and it struck you that you’d never heard him say please before, not like this.

You didn’t have to think before you answered.

“Yes.”

Suguru’s lips were on yours as the syllables were leaving you, drawing a surprised squeak from you, followed by a reedy whimper.

There was a distinct snap in your chest, the click of an unbreakable bond emerging. It made your breath hitch and your body tense up, then you melted into him, and everything felt right.

His lips were cushiony and generous, everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. They fit so perfectly against yours, the sides of two puzzle pieces slotting into place. His kiss was gentle, slow, and intimate. 

You barely had a chance to delve into it by the time the other boy was tugging you away for his turn.

He was more demanding, rougher, yet entirely wonderful all the same, just like Geto. He connected to you seamlessly, aggressively, contrary to Suguru's tenderness, in a way that had your toes curling and heat pooling in the depths of your gut.

This.

This is what you had been missing all your life.

The safety and sanctity that came with surrendering to a love pure and true. 

Hands were on you, everywhere, at all once. You didn’t know which belonged to who; it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered save for the way they caressed you and explored everything, leaving no inch untouched.

Calloused palms slid under the hem of your – Suguru’s – shirt, palming at naked flesh, taking what was no longer yours, but theirs.

Satoru bit at your bottom lip, hard enough to sting, but not enough to break skin, in spite of how you wanted him to. His hunger was obvious, his inability to sate himself with the taste of your mouth alone showing in the way he suckled on your tongue and ventured behind your teeth. The sentiment was mutual. You drank him in with the same fervor, needing more to settle the hollow in your stomach.

A hint of the cake shared at the wedding lingered on him, sweet and rich and exactly like the boy you’d come to love.

Love.

You loved him. You loved Suguru.

And they…they loved you, too, didn’t they?

The way Geto dug his canines into your collarbone and soothed the pricks with chaste kisses, the way Gojo moaned into your kiss like you were his oasis after years of thirst; the way the second gripped his hips with his nails, and the way the first traced the undersides of your breasts with his thumbs, all these actions led you to believe that, yes, they loved you. Beyond words, beyond what could be said and shown.

You were growing dizzy, heady with lust and the lack of air. Satoru must have noticed, as he pulled away a few centimeters, breathing each other’s air. 

“What do you want, pretty girl?” He asked.

“Touch me,” you pleaded with them breathlessly.

“Shit,” Suguru groaned into the delicate flesh of your shoulder. “You can't just say something like that while wearing my shirt.”

Any quip you might have had was swiftly replaced with a squeal of surprise when Satoru hoisted you up over his shoulder casually, not breaking so much as a sweat from the effort.

“Satoru!” You squeaked, smacking his back. “I can walk, you know!”

“I can’t wait any longer,” he justified as he kicked off his shoes haphazardly and carried you off to your room.

You were tossed unceremoniously onto your bed, bouncing a couple times as you propped yourself on your elbows. From your spot on your sheets, you had the perfect view of Satoru tugging at the bow on his collar to untie it. He let the ends hang loose in favor of ardently shedding his jacket.

Suguru wasn’t far behind, and in the darkness of your room, their eyes seemed to glow dangerously. 

Laser focused on you, you were trapped in their spell, and you’d never wish to break free.

Geto stalked up to you, steps deliberate and resolute, a leopard locked in on its prey. He came to a stop at the edge of your bed, planting his hands on either side of your hips. Starvation ate at the amber of his hues, black holes leaving a ring of gold between the photon spheres and event horizons.

You batted your lashes flirtatiously. “You’ll be gentle with me, won’t you?”

You sounded less coquettish than you would have liked, dyspneic and blistering hot with appetency and anticipation.

He chuckled, gruff and strained. “After all this time, I finally get to have you, and you think I’m going to be gentle with you?”

“Oh, you’re in for it now, princess,” Gojo breathed against your ear, startling you. You hadn’t noticed when he’d gotten behind you, his body heat radiating onto you. “Kept us waiting, made us chase you, there’s no way in hell we’ll be gentle with you.”

“Kept you waiting?” Confusion flashed across your face.

He huffed. “And here I thought I was dense as hell.”

You scowled at him. “Hey! What is that supposed to mean?”

Suguru grasped your chin between his thumb and the curve of his index, fixing your sights on him. “We thought you were being coy at first. Then, after you didn’t pick up on our hints, we thought we were being too subtle,” he angled your head upwards, lips ghosting over your own. “Turns out, our sweet angel is a little oblivious, isn’t she?”

He didn’t give you the opportunity to defend yourself as he was kissing you deep and hard again, stealing your breath away all over again.

It’s not like he was wrong, but you had to counter his argument.

Except, oh, he tasted so good, and the way his palms skirted your sides erased your thoughts one by one. 

An unintentional whimper slipped past from your mouth and into Suguru’s as his hand slipped under your shirt – his shirt – and trailed up your side slowly. His skin scorched yours, burning so deliciously that it sent a shiver from the base of your spine up to your scalp, raising goosebumps across your arms and back.

You could feel him smirking as he kissed you, fervent fingers studying the dips and curves of your figure as they traveled up slowly, too slowly, towards where you wanted him to be. He seemed all too entertained by your reactions, the little noises you let out when he skimmed the underside of your breast, purposefully taking his time.

The moment he broke the kiss to catch a breath, barely parting, his lips still grazing yours, you keened and pleaded, not wholly sure what you were asking for. “Please, please…”

“Please, what? Use your words, mochi,” Satoru snickered, his mouth leaving a new patch of wet, saliva-slicked skin on your shoulder that rapidly cooled over the sensitive bruises blooming everywhere he planted them. ”What do you want, pretty girl?”

A whine was trapped behind your tongue as Suguru nipped at your lower lip, tugging gently, encouraging you to speak. “Fuck– fuck me, gods, please.”

“Good girl,” the ravenet grinned and immediately rewarded you by cupping your breast, pinching your nipple between his ring and middle fingers. He tweaked and plucked at it, drawing a gasp from you. “All you had to do was ask.”

Everything became a blur of flesh and clothes from there. Pants were shucked, buttons popped and scattered elsewhere from shirts ripped apart, fabric stripped from your figure until all three of you were naked in the presence of one another.

Moonlight poured into your room through your parted, sheer curtains, providing the perfect amount of illumination to see their Olypmian builds. Lean muscle molded them, impossibly strong and handsome. You understood how Satoru was able to lift you without an issue, now.

Suguru was marginally wider – shoulders broader, thighs thicker, but Satoru was the epitome of a god amongst men. Slender, athletic, ripped, mouthwatering.

You trailed down the path his Apollo’s belt created, appreciating the planes and hard ridges of his chest and stomach, the muscles of his hips, leading to…

Saliva flooded your mouth from the underside of your tongue, stinging as you took in the sight of his cock.

You debated if you were blessed or cursed, because there was no way in hell that thing was going to fit in you.

It stood tall and proud, just like its master. Swelled, curving upwards, the prettiest shade of rose that looked pale pink in the light the moon provided. A thick vein tracked from the base to the left side, and you had to forcefully swallow the spit in your mouth before you started legitimately drooling.

It was long, you were certain it’d knock the air from your lungs if he managed to get it in.

He was on you in seconds, crawling over you and biting into your shoulder to leave his crest. He sucked hard, making sure his claim would bloom into a noticeable flower for you to wear and show off. “You’re beautiful.”

His praise went straight to your drenched pussy, your walls tightening around nothing. 

The baritone of Suguru’s words filled the room, an instruction raised. “On the bed, Satoru.”

If you hadn’t seen it firsthand, you would have refused to believe there was ever a time Satoru would willingly follow someone else’s directions, let alone Suguru’s. In front of your eyes, he behaved, rolling off your body to splay himself out on his back, aquamarine orbs never once leaving your figure. 

The next directive was given to you. “Sit on his face, baby,” Suguru said, his inflection warning you to listen, daring you to defy him.

You, the obedient hare you were, followed his command without protest. You sat up next to Satoru, threw one leg over him, then slinked up to his face, where he laid and followed your every move, eyes of ice devoured by the impossibly dark lacunae in their centers.

You thought being over him would give you some level of control – how poorly mistaken were you.

As soon as your knees were on either side of his head, his arms wrapped around the backs of your thighs and he pulled you down faster than you could register his movements. He moved at lightning speed, wasting no time in shoving his tongue impatiently against your slicked folds and dragging it through.

His groan echoed your loud, unexpected moan, both of you wracked with sudden pleasure – him, at your taste, and you, at the addicting sensation of him lapping at your cunt like a man deprived of oxygen. Ironic, given the way he was all but begging for you to suffocate him, but you didn’t have the capacity to muse on it.

Electricity ricocheted up your spine, your synapses firing in overtime as he assaulted the hypersensitive nerves of your clit, sucking on it unforgivingly.

“S-Satoru!” You stammered out his name, one hand gripping the edge of your bed, the other tangling in his white, fluffy locks, tugging at his roots in a painful manner, no doubt. The devious keen he let out from the action told you he enjoyed it immensely, the muffled vibrations on your pussy making you clench around the tip of his tongue as it impatiently invaded your hole.

Suguru’s dusky, chocolate shades stayed glued to your form as you unraveled thread by thread from Satoru’s skilled tongue alone, his lips pulled into a dangerous smirk. “Open your mouth,” he rasped.

Your jaw dropped before he even finished his sentence.

You could see the unmitigated ardor flash in his pupils at your unquestioning submission, his cock twitching with the glee of knowing that he did this to you; that he and Gojo turned you into their brain dead beauty, eager and willing to please them however they wished.

His adoration for you was written plain across his face, mouth pouting at your adorableness. Oh, how he couldn’t wait to ruin you. He wanted to see tears glitter in your eyes from overwhelming euphoria, just so he could kiss them away and dote on you like it was the last night you’d all be alive.

Given the opportunity to inspect his manhood, you compared and contrasted it with Satoru’s. While Suguru’s was marginally shorter, it was thick, girthy, and ready to split you apart.

He perched the heavy peak of it on the pink muscle in your mouth that was dying for a sample, eager to guide it in and let it choke you half to death. 

“Suck.”

He didn’t need to tell you what to do – the moment his sex was there, you wrapped your kiss-bruised lips around his tip and moved your head to take more of him into your awaiting maw.

Your power over the sounds daring to leave you had left eons ago. You whined like a bitch in heat around his length, the mildly salty and musky flavor of his pre-cum driving you mad. His piquancy tickled some deep-seeded hunger in you, a drop of liquor better than any alcohol ever made. It worsened your thirst, spawning a sine qua non for his cum to quench your thirst.

His large hand threaded through your hair, smoothing down the stray strands as he cupped the back of your head with his palm. His hold was deceptively lenient and respectful, a guiding kneading that set the pace he wanted you to adopt.

“That’s it, good girl,” he said hoarsely, laboring to preserve his composure and not drive his hips to bury his oversized dick deep into your pharynx until he bottomed out, your nose pressed to his pelvis. Not now, not yet. First, he was going to enjoy your suckling and demure kitten licks. “Doing so well for us.”

His validation worsened your arousal, turning that pulsing, throbbing pressure into a borderline painful cramping.

Fuck, you were past salvation.

God help anyone who tried to save you, because you would not let them.

You yanked on Satoru’s hair harder, gripping at the roots for dear life, and grabbed Suguru’s thigh with your other hand. The muscles beneath jumped at the contact, and you groaned. The vibrations from your throat on his cock earned you a whispered grunt from him in turn. 

It didn’t seem true, you were still struggling to believe that you had one of them, let alone both.

Touching helped, solidifying the fact that they were there, with you, one eating you out like his life depended on it, while the second was putting your mouth to good use.

Tears sprung to your eyes as the head of his cock nudged deeper, but unlike before, these tears were of delight. You thrived on watching Suguru lose his sangfroid by the minute, sand slipping through his fingers that were going lax with disinterest in holding back. 

If you learned they had a telepathic connection with each other, you didn’t think you’d be shocked. In fluid, synchronized movements, Suguru cupped the base of your skull to thrust hilt-deep into your mouth, and Satoru stuffed two fingers into your dripping pussy, pushing you right up to the edge of blissful collapse. His digits were long, wide, bigger than yours and capable of reaching further, of petting a spot that had you choking and gagging on the branch stuck down your esophagus.

He nipped at your clit, teeth straying too close to danger, curled his fingers to attack your g-spot, and that’s all it took for you to burst.

Your orgasm ripped through you in waves, crashing on the beach of your consciousness, addicting as it drowned you in white-hot rapture.

Suguru’s climax was set off by your muffled moaning, ropes of his cum pumping into your mouth and down your throat. You did your best to swallow every drop, mindlessly lapping it up each time his hardness stirred and twitched.

Slowly, he pulled back and allowed you to gasp and catch your breath, his length continuing to throb despite you having sucked the soul out of him. 

He aided you in sliding off of Satoru and positioned you on the headboard of the bed, cooing at you for being such a good girl for them.

Satoru pounced on you, too antsy to let you rest. He smashed his mouth onto yours, tongue delving past your parted lips. You could taste yourself on him, in the way he rubbed his tongue on yours, sharing the flavor of your slick; mildly acidic, with a hint of salt and something almost bitter, but not quite.

Tang, the word hit you.

Big hands worked to hike your legs up, hooking them around that svelte waist of his, handsy and groping. The tip of his dick prodded against your fluttering, tender folds, causing you to attempt to retreat from the stimulus.

Keyword: attempt.

He latched his palms onto your waist, preventing you from running away. He huffed, voice husky from gulping down your juices. “Where do you think you’re going, pretty?”

“I’m s-sensitive!” You whined pitifully, fingers raking into his forearms, uncertain if you were trying to shove him away or drag him closer.

“Oh, baby, I know,” he purred with false condolence. “But, you can take it, can’t you? Be a good girl for me?”

Any of your pleas fell on deaf ears, your begging faltering as he notched the tip against your entrance and began pushing in, determined to fuck you dumb.

You hadn’t known it was possible to feel this full until he was bullying his length into you, inch by merciless inch, deeper, deeper.

“Fuck,” he heaved, struggling to maintain control. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

You were trying to stay relaxed, to let him carve a spot for himself inside of you, but that fucked out look on his face and his whiny tone had you squeezing unintentionally. He grunted and paused, air whistling through his teeth.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed in warning.

Swallowing thickly, you whimpered, jabbing your sticky palms against his hips. “Too big!”

Suguru swept your hair from your forehead. “You’re taking it so well, though, angel,” he soothed, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Come on, you can take the rest.”

“The rest?” Your eyes widened. “There’s more–!?”

You cried out when Satoru gave you one last lunge to hilt himself fully within you, hips flush to yours, symphysis knocking against your tingling clit. 

Heavens above, you swore he was buried up to your diaphragm.

He pried one hand from his hip, exposing the tiny ovals that would undoubtedly fade to bruises come morning, and brought it down to the apex of your thighs. He withdrew an inch at most, unwilling to part further, and guided it down between your thighs. He pressed it against your cunt, spreading your ring and middle fingers apart to slip the base of his cock between them. 

“Feel me?” He growled against your cheek, imploring you to observe how you were connected directly.

You clenched around him with a whimper at the sensation, causing him to jerk forward involuntarily, then let out a gruff laugh against the junction of your neck.

“Get to it,” Suguru frowned, restlessness showing through his typically unruffled exterior.

Satoru sneered at him. “Give me a damn minute, I’m gonna cum way too fast if you rush me.”

Leave it to his best friend to taunt him in the middle of sex of all things. “What are you, a highschool boy?”

“She’s got my dick in a chokehold, man,” he spat.

He retracted halfway and sheathed himself again experimentally, testing the waters, and he was rewarded with a moan bubbling free from you.

Hunger flashed in his beautiful, eternal blues, a ravenous desire to hear more of the sweet noises you could give him, and you knew you were in trouble.

All hesitance flew out the window for him.

Any way to describe how glorious it felt to have his cock pounding into you disappeared from your vocabulary, abandoning you with only the ability to let out a petite ah! ah! ah! each time he vanished into you and his tip bumped against your cervix.

Suguru wasn’t content to have you experiencing only one form of stimulation. Set on making you lose your mind, the rough pads of his thumbs rubbed over your pebbled nipples, the contact steering you into arching your back. You weren’t sure if you were trying to push into his touch, or escape it, your body too overwhelmed to decipher your own intentions. 

Satoru was mumbling praises to you, nibbling on your jaw and the slope of your shoulder, printing his claim anywhere he could. It went in one ear and out the other, your consciousness torn between the boys as they took you apart and put you back together to fit the mold they created for you.

A pinch and flick to your nipples had you belling in bliss. 

Your vision was foggy with tears, blurring the lines between night and light, sky and earth, whose mouth was on you, whose hands were compressing your flesh until it spilled between their fingers. Whether it was Gojo suckling on your breast, or Geto rubbing your clit in rapid, honed circles, you didn’t know and didn’t care so long as it never stopped.

The peak of your second climax was approaching too soon, too fast. You yourself got only a wisp of a warning of its arrival, let alone a chance to warn the boys.

“Gonna– ah! ‘M gonna–!” 

Satoru groaned. “Fuck, me too.”

“Say it,” Suguru goaded you on. “What do you want?”

You lugged in a shaky breath. “Wanna cum! Please, I– ngh!”

His lips grazed your cheek. “Cum.”

The strained wire inside the burning heat of your belly gave way to a rush of ecstasy, releasing in the form of a burst of clear spray onto Satoru’s lower stomach. A bell rang in your ears, pitchy and sonorous as you jerked and shook from the pleasure.

That set his orgasm off, his hips stilling flat against yours. Syrupy streams of his cum painted your walls pearly white, never-ending as he kept cumming, and cumming, and cumming.

You were both panting, struggling for air, when it finally stopped. He pulled out languidly, hissing as his soaked cock was exposed to the air. His eyes were welded to your pussy – specifically, the thin rivulet of ivory that leaked out. Unthinkingly, he scooped it up with two fingers and tamped it back into you, enamored by your bleat of objection.

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life,” he confessed, sitting back on his heels and running a hand through his hair. “I get the sense that the feeling is mutual, eh?”

Geto kissed the corner of your mouth, kneading your sore chest. “You made quite the mess.”

You blushed and hid your face against your pillow. “Sorry.” 

“No, that was hot as hell. Shoulda told me you squirt,” Gojo laughed, voice rough at the edges. 

“I didn’t know I could,” you muttered.

He shuddered. “Fuck, you’re so bad for my ego, princess.”

You grumbled, squinting at him. Of course, he would find ways to boost his ego. You didn’t have it in you to mock him, feeling spent.

Oh, but they had other plans for you.

Your world spun as arms hooked under your body, picking you up and repositioning you.

Suguru lifted you onto his lap, setting your hands onto his pecs to keep you balanced. He placed open-mouthed kisses on the hickeys budding on your neck and collar as he pressed on your lower back to make you lean into him and subconsciously raise your hips. You were too hazy to pay any heed to what he was doing until he had the fat tip of his length poking at your entrance, seeking passage.

You jolted back to peer at him with panicked eyes. “Wait, no, not ready,” you shook your head. “‘M too sensitive.”

“C’mon, angel,” he comforted you by squeezing the outside of your thigh. “I know you can do it.”

You couldn’t argue back, your jaw busy hanging as he steered your hips down. Though you had been stretched by Satoru and were immensely slippery with a mix of his cum and your slick, there was still a hint of resistance. You held your breath, trembling as he pushed harder, urged you lower.

The head popped in, and you sank down several inches with a stilted gasp and drawn-out keen.

He inhaled sharply, burrowing his nose into the hollow of your neck, his grip on your hips crushing as he kept you in place. You were reeling from being able to take him to begin with, shaking from head to toe at the delicious sting of the stretch. 

“Fuck,” he growled, poise dropping. 

“So big,” you exhaled, speech staggered.

Gradually, he eased you onto him, letting you feel him in full. You clutched him like he was your lifeline because, honestly, he was. 

You were too focused on not splitting apart to notice the second man in the room kneeling behind you until he broke your concentration by swiping slick from your cunt and pressing the tip of his middle finger against the tight ring of your other hole.

You yelped and whipped your head to the side, staring at Satoru from over your shoulder. “What–”

“Shh,” he nuzzled your temple, trying to distract you. “Just sit there and let us take care of you.”

To your relief, he went slow, letting you get accustomed to the sensation of one of his fingers prodding and toying with your hole. Your tenseness being replaced by breathy keens was his cue to coax a second one beside the first, the two pumping and scissoring apart. A third joined them soon, working you open unhurriedly.

Once he was satisfied, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, stroking it a few times to smear your arousal onto it.

He positioned himself, one hand clasping your waist to keep you motionless, as if the secure snare Suguru held your hips in wasn’t enough.

“Deep breath for me, pretty,” Satoru requested.

You complied. Heeding his warning, you took a deep, measured breath.

At the same time, he pushed into you, persuading you to let him in with consistent pressure. 

A protest crept its way up your voice box, coming out as reedy fussing. “W-Won’t fit,” you croaked.

“It will,” he asserted. “You can take it.”

He abated for a second, and you loosened – then, he thrust upwards suddenly.

“Ah!” You cried out, eyes squeezed shut as tight as possible. Your nails dug into Suguru’s shoulders, deep enough to etch crescents into them, but he only crooned and rubbed his thumbs under your ribs to soothe you.

“You’re doing so well for us, angel,” he murmured to you, pressing tiny kisses to each corner of your mouth. “Taking us so well.”

They both grunted when you clenched down at the revere and Satoru placed his forehead against the curve of your trapezius. His hands held your sides tightly, fingertips no doubt leaving bruises in their wake.

He was buried only midway inside you, and already, he was at his wit’s end. You all were, to be fair. 

“Need you to relax, bunny,” he mumbled, nipping at your nape. “Need to feel you. Be inside you.”

Suguru was holding up the best out of the three of you, murmuring sweet nothings to you, stroking your stomach, gently massaging your breasts, anything to get you to ease up and melt into them. He was already bottomed out in your cunt, so deep inside you, you swore you could feel him behind your navel.

Satoru waited for you to unwind, edging into you whenever you allowed it, sinking in more and more until he was finally seated to the base.

All three of you let out weighty sighs, pleased he was able to wrestle his way in.

Nothing could ever come close to the sensation of being crowded and stuffed to the absolute brim like this. You could distinctly feel their cocks rubbing against one another through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, their heartbeats racing. You were filled beyond capacity, it was a boon Satoru was able to fit himself next to Suguru.

“Good girl,” the noiret beamed at you, smoothing his thumbs over your aching nipples. “Fuck, such a good girl for us, aren’t you?”

“Knew you could do it,” the towhead rubbed his cheek against yours. “You feel so good, baby.”

Satoru moved first, drawing back ‘til the tip remained, then shoved back in. You keened, your head falling back to rest on his collarbone. He took his time setting a comfortable pace, after which Suguru started moving. He guided your hips to grind on his, his motions opposite to Gojo’s. When one was in, the other was out, back and forth, ensuring you were never empty at any given moment.

A rhythm built up, a melody of harmonized moans and cries and filthy promises bouncing off the walls of your room. The three of you became one, a flowing machine, all parts operating together to create a rhapsody of names and skin-on-skin.

They were everywhere, all at once. There wasn’t a spot anywhere on you they hadn’t touched, a location they hadn’t fanned their palms over, a zone they hadn’t marked, a piece they hadn’t claimed.

Inside and out, if they could reach it, it was theirs. Body, heart, mind, and soul, you were theirs, and they were yours. They assured you of such, telling you how they pined for you, how you had them wrapped around your little finger. 

“Loved you from the day I laid eyes on you, princess,” Satoru said, gravelly. “I’m– shit– I’m f-fuckin’ crazy for you.”

“Toru!” 

“Yeaaah, say my name,” he implored you.

You hiccuped. “S-Satoru!”

He groaned, deep and from the soul. “Fuck, I love you so much, pretty girl.”

“Love yo-ou,” you stuttered, laboring to put more than two words together.

Suguru cupped your jaw. “And me?”

“Love you, S-Sugu,” you promised.

He gifted you that smile that you adored more than you could convey, your spirit overjoyed. “My precious angel. I love you, too.”

You didn’t know how he was acting so put-together in the middle of fucking your brains out. Sweat clung to his forehead, his defined neck, and the contours of his torso, droplets trailing down and sticking his hair to his skin. 

By comparison, you were a wreck of incoherent babbling and firing synapses, strewn between them as they ravaged your body. Their syncopated tempo wouldn’t grant you a brief pause to anchor yourself, completely at the hands of their mercy. Their sizes caused them to push firmly into any and every sweet spot you had, blinding you with a euphoria unlike any other.

Either because he was amused by your struggle, or because he was a bit sadistic, Suguru planted his heels onto your bed and rammed into you.

Your vision flickered, cognizance short-circuited from the abrupt burst of pleasure. It forced you directly to the height of your elation, teetering precariously on the summit, ready to dive off it.

“Nngh!” You mewled, brows furrowed, body wound tight. A taut bowstring, waiting to be released.

“Go on, mochi,” Satoru grunted when you clenched down on them. “Cum for us.”

“I-I can't!” You sobbed. “I– I need–”

“I've got you, love,” Suguru huffed. You bucked when the pad of his thumb pressed against your sensitive, febrile clit. 

He circled it roughly in pace with their thrusts once, twice, and you shattered.

Your muscles locked up, throat pinched shut as a shot of pure, electric nirvana in its rawest form rolled in your tummy, then exploded outwards. It filled your limbs, fogged your mind, darkened your sight, flooding your entire being until you knew nothing but such divine euphoria.

You couldn't register your own blissful cry, or if you had cried at all, too lost in your senses to hear both men trilling and fawning over you while struggling to keep rhythm and control when you squeezed and milked them so well. 

In the darkness behind your eyes, where their light had yet to touch, you witnessed something beyond the bounds of your mortal comprehension. 

You heralded the heat death of the universe. You saw every speck of cosmic brilliance either smolder out until it lived no longer, or detonate in the grandest scenes you never believed you could be present for. Dust, fire, and energy burst throughout the swiftly collapsing ether, until all that was left were the abyssal, all-devouring voids that struggled to survive with the last of the matter they had shorn from clusters of galaxies and the stars they eventually dragged into their bottomless weasands.

When they, too, died, there was nothing. Silence, stygian darkness, not a soul nor being to be found.

Then, it all compressed. The petals of the universe themselves tucked inwards, folded over and over, packed down into a tiny dot, a speck more than anything else, where all matter was serried and reunited as one. It shrank and shrank, growing heavier, denser, hotter by the second.

You alone were the sole seer to the birth of the firmament. 

You were there to descry in all glory how the heavens came to be, how the stars sparked to life, weak at first as they formed, fell, and formed again, repeating the cycle until the colossal entities became gods in their own rights. You bore the heavy weight of being testimony to the truth greater than anyone could ever picture. 

You saw the coruscating fireworks of resplendent celestial bodies as they caved in on themselves, then went out with a final, grand eruption of phosphorescence. You beheld how some brought the next generation of stars, while others crumpled under the overpowering vise of the freezing vacuum of space, creating monstrosities that knew only how to consume and exist as the brightest, most refulgent beings.

And then, as the universe retreated from your perception, there was only them.

Only Satoru and Suguru, as they grit their teeth and held your hips and waist with enough pressure to ache deep in your bones, their sweaty forms halted against your own. Sweltering, liquid fire poured into your core, their cocks pulsing within your snug walls as you drained them for all they were worth and more.

Time ceased to exist immemorial. The three of you wound down, breathing each other in, simply being. Once lecherous hands glided up and down your sweat-slicked figure, unhurried now that you’d all reached the promised land together. 

They were patient, giving you time to return to yourself. Soft-spoken vows and encomia, gentle petting, bringing you down from your astronomical high.

Gojo crooked his arms under your thighs, hoisting you up off of Geto’s lap. The action caused both of them to slip out of you, making you wince and whimper.

He hushed you sweetly as he set you on your side, nestling against your back with his arms looped around your waist, keeping you close. Suguru laid down in front of you, dotting kisses along your hairline, cheeks, nose, and one right on your lips. 

“What brought it on?” Suguru spoke in low tones, and you felt his voice more than heard it.

“Mm?” You hummed, sleepy and confused.

“Why’d you leave the wedding?” He clarified.

You blushed, embarrassed at the reminder, now that you knew how they felt about you. “Ah, well…I, um…” You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “I saw you smile at another girl and it kinda…set me off, I guess.”

He frowned. “Smile?”

You tilted your head to hide your face, regardless of the darkness in your room. “The one that kissed your cheek.”

Satoru snorted harshly. “Oh, my god, that wasn’t a smile.”

“It wasn’t?” You blinked.

He cackled. “Hell no. I thought he was gonna blow a fuse. He looked like he’d been dropped in a vat of sap or something. Livid, I’m telling you.”

“I refrained,” Suguru insisted.

“You almost broke your teeth,” the other boy refuted.

He clicked his tongue. “It was uncomfortable. Besides, I don’t want any woman near me that isn’t our angel.”

The baby bird residing within you fluttered its wings at his words. Our. You were theirs just as they were yours.

In the afterglow of your lovemaking, as the two got comfy with you, snuggled up with you in the middle, you let your mind drift. Thoughts you fought against since the day you moved here were given the spotlight, allowed to say their pieces without you shoving them into the box under your bed. 

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite. 

Where once you considered yourself faded, washed out, and forever at risk of being bound to the ground, you realized something important.

As your fingers carded through Suguru’s soft, damp hair, and Satoru formed small circles under your ribs with his thumb, you noticed that the achromatic world you had lived in had been doused with color. It took you a while to see it, to fully process that the longer you stayed in this little village, the more vibrant the watercolor paints became, but they were there now, and you’d never be able to draw your eyes away from them.

Like a kite, you yearned to be free; to feel the wind under your wings and the sun on your back. You always blamed the rope that connected you to the ground for keeping that freedom away from you. It had you locked in a gilded cage, so you trimmed it further and further until you were just a kite, without any strings, without any connections to anyone or anything.

Without a home.

Upon reflection, you acknowledged that it didn’t make you free – it made you lost.

You had been lost for so long.

Then, you found them; the boys that wrapped your body in countless arms and legs, never any real beginning or end between you and them. You found these friends you made, and they all tied differently colored threads around your bamboo bones. 

You let them. 

You were scared when you fell, when the wind stopped blowing and you were torn from the skies, unable to follow the gales, you’d splinter beyond repair.

But, they caught you – Satoru and Suguru, together, as one.

And it clicked in your head the moment they said they wanted you, the same way you wanted them.

Being bound didn’t mean you were chained. Being tethered to them meant you could glide and soar in the sky without the fear of ever getting misled again, and the strings would guide you home when the gentle gusts calmed or the whipping tempests grew too angry.

You thought, ages ago, that you’d never be okay with being fettered to someone, or something. You had to be completely isolated, unshackled.

In truth, you just needed to find the people you wanted to share your link with. The pinkies and ankles you’d knot red threads around.

It was them all along. The Sun and Moon incarnate, with their Star held between them, all of you aloft and flying with hands clasped as a single being. There was no fear of your bond ever snapping, of any of you ever being torn away by an unforgiving storm.

Being bound meant you had a home.

And your home was with these two, with Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. 

Your home was here, in this village, away from anything grand and suffocating. It was here, in their arms, fingers and hearts intertwined.

You just had to get a little lost before being found.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

taglist: @kimi01985

[queenshelby]

The Accident (Part Seven)

Pairing: Reader & Cillian Murphy

Warning: Domestic Abuse, Religious Themes, Trafficking

Thank you @blondie-22 for this amazing idea!

That night, you fell asleep almost instantly, the exhaustion crashing over you like a tide. The guest room, decorated with soft linens and a plush comforter, embraced you in a cocoon of warmth.

You tucked Mika close to your chest and inhaled the comforting scent of baby shampoo, a sweet fragrance that vibrated with innocence. Sarah too slept well, and long, her small body curled into a ball beside you on the plush mattress, a peaceful haven in the chaos.

The following morning, light streamed through the thin curtains, casting soft shadows that danced across the room. You stirred awake to the sound of birds chirping outside, the gentle cooing of Mika drawing your attention. She lay beside you, her small hands flailing slightly as she grunted playfully in her sleep.

“Good morning, little one,” you whispered softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead and enjoying the way her tiny features scrunched up in response.

You were still in your clothes from the night before but you hardly noticed. The soft warmth of the sheets and the comfort of the room wrapped around you like a protective blanket.

“Sarah?” you murmured, glancing over to check on her little form sprawled beside you. She lay in blissful slumber, her curly brown hair fanning around her like a halo.

You allowed her to sleep a little longer before wandering downstairs where Cillian and Naomi were already in the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint scent of toast, creating an inviting atmosphere. The kitchen glowed with warmth, sunlight pooling in through the expansive windows, illuminating the room in a golden hue.

Cillian stood at the counter, pouring coffee into a mug, while Naomi scrolled through her phone, her carefully manicured nails moving rapidly over the screen.

As you stepped into the kitchen, Cillian glanced up, his face breaking into a warm smile.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he greeted, his voice rich with sincerity. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a log,” you admitted, a small smile creeping across your face as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the enticing aroma of brewed coffee that filled the air.

Cillian chuckled lightly, pouring another mug. “That’s good to hear. You needed the rest after everything,” Cillian asked, motioning towards the table for you to sit down but all you really wanted was to have a shower.

"Would I be able to take a shower?" you asked, the words escaping your lips in a rush, as anticipation of feeling clean bubbled within you.

“Of course,” Cillian replied promptly, nodding. “Just down the hall,” he gestured toward a door situated at the end of the hallway. “There are towels in the closet. Take your time.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, your voice filled with relief.

“Do you want me to watch Mika while you go?" Cillian offered, his eyes sparkling with eagerness.

You hesitated, the protective instinct kicking in momentarily, but the thought of a hot shower—just the chance to wash away the remnants of the past few weeks—felt like a balm for your frayed nerves.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you said, relief washing over you, causing Naomi to roll her eyes.

She wasn't fond of young children and infants and her disdain was palpable, her expression contorting slightly as she feigned a smile.

"Uhm, I hate to ask, but could I also borrow a t-shirt or something clean? I will give it back to you. It's just that I didn't take anything for myself," you added quickly, glancing between Cillian and Naomi, the slight anxiety creeping in again.

"Sure," Cillian replied without hesitation before looking at Naomi again, who raised her eyebrows.

"My clothes would be way too small for her," she scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. “You are like what, a medium or large?" she went on to say in a tone that was mocking your less perfect body than hers, which was something that hurt you just a little.

"Jesus, Nom," Cillian whispered, shaking his head silently. "You can borrow one of my t-shirts and I am sure Nina has some trackpants that will fit and that she won't miss. I will have a look," Cillian said, his voice firm yet kind as he made his way toward you to take Mika. As Cillian reached for Mika, you felt a flash of vulnerability, instinctively tightening your grip for just a moment longer. But the comfort in his blue eyes calmed your nerves.

“It's alright. I won't break her. I promise. Despite, I delivered her, remember?" he said with a gentle chuckle, his tone imbued with warmth.

You relinquished your hold, allowing him to cradle Mika in his arms, his hands steady and confident.

Cillian gently nestled Mika against his chest, and the soft cooing sent a wave of calm washing over you.

It was obvious to you that he actually adored children, the tenderness in his touch revealing a side of him that radiated warmth.

With that, you disappeared into the hallway, the sound of soft murmurs and laughter echoing behind you as you made your way to the shower.

After you got undressed, you turned on the faucet, allowing the water to warm before stepping beneath the cascade. The droplets enveloped you like a soothing embrace, washing away the remnants of fear and anxiety that had clung to you for so long. As the warmth soaked into your skin, each drop felt like a gentle reminder that you were taking strides toward renewal.

Hurrying so that Cillian was not left with Mika for too long , you lathered the soap quickly, the suds slipping down your arms. The hot water streamed over you, melting away the tension that had clung to your muscles like a second skin.

Once done, you stepped out of the shower, a cloud of steam enveloping you as you towelled off. The mirror fogged up around the edges, but you caught a glimpse of yourself—a weary woman who wore the marks of survival etched across her skin.

You wrapped a towel around you quickly, realising that you had not grabbed the clothes from Cillian before you walked into the bathroom. You hesitated, the towel clinging to your damp skin as you glanced back toward the door.

Opening it slightly to peer out, you found Cillian standing nearby, cradling Mika in one arm while rummaging through the hallway cabinet with the other.

"Uhm, can you pass me that t-shirt please," you called out, the flush of embarrassment creeping into your cheeks as you held the towel tightly around you.

Cillian turned, a smile breaking through the concentration on his face. “Of course! Just hang on a second," he replied before gathering the small stack of clothes he had put on to the table in the hallway.

"Here you go," Cillian said, extending a soft t-shirt toward you, the fabric displaying a faded graphic logo.

You reached out, fingers brushing against his as you took the t-shirt from his hand with a shy smile.

“Thanks,” you said softly, realising that he was looking at your scars and bruises.

You knew that he did not mean to stare, but it was hard not to. But your instinct pushed you to draw the towel tighter around yourself, a shield against the vulnerability that threatened to spill forth.

“Take your time,” he said gently, not breaking his gaze as you stepped back into the bathroom, holding the t-shirt close to your chest.

Once inside, you took a moment to breathe before you slipped into the oversized t -shirt, the fabric enveloping you like a protective cocoon.

He had also handed you a pair of trackpants which you quickly pulled on too before retreating to the hallway, your heart racing as you re-entered the shared space.

Cillian stood by the window, looking out as the rain had begun to clear while cradling Mika.

“Feeling better?" he asked as he caught sight of you, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Much better, thank you,” you replied, your voice steadier as you stepped into the kitchen area. Cillian gestured for you to take a seat at the table before handing Mika back to you.

“Now, I spoke to my lawyer this morning. He has a collegue who will be able to help you, for free. He is a caseworker for a local charity focused on helping those in domestic situations. He can assist you with legal options, housing resources, and even aid in navigating the asylum process. He's got a law degree and I think it might be good to meet with him today,” Cillian explained, his brow furrowing with determination.

You blinked, processing his words as hope flickered viscerally in your chest. “Really? You think he can help?” Your voice trembled slightly, a cocktail of fear and cautious optimism pooling within you. Hope felt unfamiliar but intoxicating.

Cillian nodded earnestly, his expression steady. “He’s helped plenty of people like you. He’s experienced with cases involving domestic abuse and can guide you through the legal avenues available. I know you’re scared, but this could be the lifeline you need," Cillian explained before throwing some caution at the wind.

"Apparently though, until you are issued with a residency card, you aren't eligible for housing assistance and the other stuff the government would usually provide,” Cillian clarified, his voice imbued with reassurance. "You would have to live in an asylum seeker facility while your immigration case and your domestic violence allegations are being investigated and assessed. I think that would not be what you want for your kids."

You felt a lump rise in your throat, each word he spoke unravelling the tightly wound anxieties within you.

"I did put some money aside. I could rent something but no one would give me accommodation without ID," you finished, your voice barely above a whisper as confusion tangled with your desperation. You looked down at Mika, who cooed softly in your arms, blissfully unaware of the storm swirling around your life at that moment. You brushed a finger along the soft cheek of your baby, drawing strength from her innocence.

"I have a small townhouse not far from here which I purchased as an investment property, for my daughter. It's not renovated, but furnished. I am waiting for development approval to do some works on it, but it’s liveable,” Cillian continued, his gaze earnest as he held your stare. “If you need a place to stay while sorting everything out, you and the girls could stay there.

You stared at Cillian, your heart racing. “You would let us stay there?” The words barely escaped your lips, drenched in disbelief and wonder. "I mean, I could pay you!"

Cillian raised a hand to calm you, his eyes shimmering with sincerity. “You don’t have to pay me. It's sitting there empty, so someone may as well use it," he continued, his tone calm and assuring. "Plus, it's in my name and your husband won't find you there. The neighbourhood is good. It's located in a secure complex, complete with gated access. So it should be safe," Cillian concluded, his expression unyielding, as though he had set his mind to help you and nothing would dissuade him from offering you this opportunity.

You blinked, processing the enormity of his offer. “Are you serious?” you whispered, your voice barely cracking through the wave of disbelief threatening to swallow you whole.

Cillian nodded, his expression unwavering. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it," he continued, his voice steady, each word reinforcing his sincerity.

"Now, let's get you to see this case worker this morning and then, this afternoon, we will get you settled in at the house," Cillian continued, his tone laced with unwavering certainty.

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat. The enormity of Cillian's offer hung in the air like a promise, its weight pressing down on you, pulling you into an unknown but hopeful future as, unbeknownst to you, James was already looking for you and his daughters.

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@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

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[sidthedollface2]

A Crown fit for a God (Part 3)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Ch Summary: Elain questions Azriels whereabouts. While Rhys places a target on your back after you seek the help of two other Death Gods.

Or

Azriel touches what does not belong to him and craves more.

word count: 5.6k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, attempted SA, angst, hurt/comfort, light smut, war, including injuries, fighting, sign language, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I had the tickle to write smut so I give you crumbs…for now. I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

*quote from the chaos of stars

~~

Khaos was to be one of the many shooting stars that showered the Night Court skies. The Night Court would be celebrating Starfall, their yearly event to star gaze as spirits made their migration. Had she made her destination they would recognize her as one of their own and welcome her with open arms. Except for the first time the Night Court had in possession four instruments of conquest. The harp, mask, crown, and the horn, commonly known as the Dread Trove; Therefore diverting her journey to The Autumn Court.

~~~~~~~~

Bryaxis roared as he agreed to fight in the war. The reason for the blast; a form of communication, letting you know his end of the bargain was done. A bargain made with the High Lady cementing his plans- your plans. He requested a window below the library to see the sun and stars and most importantly lightning, conjured by you of course. Gods did he enjoy the spectacle, your wrath illuminating the dark sky striking fear and anxiety in peoples bones. The thrill of watching their faces as they waited for that crack of thunder. The sadist in him couldn't wait to be unleashed and bear witness to your fury, cracking of bones and screams in terror. The sweet scent of blood splattered throughout the field. He was giddy with excitement.

Azriel had rushed to the house of wind only to find the inner circle gathered in the sitting area. “Az! I’m so glad you're safe. Feyre and I figured out why the house was so moody.” Elain bounced over to her lover, wrapping her arms around Azriels neck, bringing his mouth to hers in an endearing kiss, running her tongue along the seam of his lips. Azriels arms remained at his sides, as she embraced him. His brows furrowed when she attempted to deepen the kiss.

He had just held you in his arms moments ago, your frame tucked closely within the shelter of his wings. Just the two of you and no one else existed at that moment. Not the flying of splintered bark or decayed leaves from the blast, or the dust, heavy with smoke and mist. He just saw you. Felt the power in your veins, saw the moon and all its stars in your eyes, the ruler of the skies and ruler of his mind.

He already missed the way the stars danced in your eyes as you looked up at him. He wanted to see his shadows dance along glittered starlight, not dirt covered flower beds and baked goods.

Azriel didn’t allow Elain to deepen the kiss, instead he broke apart from her eager mouth and gently pulled her arms from around his neck. “Elain I think we sho–”

“You smell different,” Elain interrupted, sniffing around Azriels chest and neck trying to find the source. “Just stepped on an orange on my way here,” he replied, rubbing the back of his tense neck. Her eyes narrowed, not trusting a single word out of his mouth.

Azriel met Nestas cold glare, a slight shake to her head followed. He was being put on the spot in front of his whole family. Beads of sweat formed along his forehead, wiping his clammy hands along his thighs, he started towards the stairs, “I’m gonna go shower.”

“I’ll join you!” Elain exclaimed, reaching for Azriels hand, intertwining her fingers with his. He silently begged for someone to stop her. To pull her away from what he knew she wanted, what he’s been giving her for the past six months. For anyone to suddenly need her so he could enjoy the scent of your body a little longer. So he could aggressively fist his cock and imagine he was fucking your throat instead.

Slowly Azriel climbed the steps, each step creaked as the wood carried their weight closer to their bedroom. He’d have to imagine it was you instead of her. Your mouth pressed against his lips as he swallowed your moans, hands trailing down your stomach till he reached your wet cunt. Your perfect body pressed against the shower wall as he sheathed himself inside you, taking you over and over and over–

“Azriel? Did you hear me?” It was Cassian that broke his thoughts.

“Sorry, zoned out for a bit. What did you say?”

“Rhys wants to debrief you.” Cassian jerked his head to Rhys' office.

“Now?” Elain whined, “can’t it wait for morning? It’s late.”

“No, he’s right Elain. Better now that it's fresh in my mind.” Azriel didn’t know if he should thank Cassian, the mother or the Gods for sparing him. Elain began to speak again but it was Azriel who seemed to read her thoughts, “don’t wait up,” he finished; releasing her hand that she so tightly held.

Not sparing her a second glance, Azriel followed Cassian to Rhys office, his shoulders more relaxed than before and his shadows seemed to have calmed down. Throwing his arm around Azriels shoulders in brotherly love, Cassian leaned in close and whispered, “you fucken owe me asshole. Now tell me all about her.”

Azriel tried to play it off with a smirk, but a wide smile danced on his lips. He’d get to stroke his cock to the thought of you after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel didn’t sleep in the room he shared with Elain, her once alluring scent now seemed too sweet. Her hands were suddenly too rough from pruning rose thorns and the leftover dirt beneath her nails made him sick.

He knew he needed to find the time to break things off. Cassian had told him that much. It wasn’t fair to lay next to Elain while he dreamed of you. Although Azriel didn’t divulge too much to Cassian about his fantasies, which wasn't the case when it came to Elain.

With Elain he had told Cass every dirty detail, how many times, positions and even sounds. He knows it was wrong. Didn’t think much of it before, as it was spoken between brothers and no one else. It would be different with you though. You were different. He was going to do it tonight. Tonight he would break things off with Elain and devote his efforts in getting to know you.

~~~~~~~

There were strong wards surrounding the Prison in the Night Court, used to prevent anyone from winnowing inside or flying to the entrance. The power needed to pass through the wards was more than you expected. It wasn't till you reached the stone gate that you realized that only the High Lord of the Night Court's blood would open the gate, something that you couldn't manipulate or conjure. You pinched the space between your brows in irritation as you thought of a way to bypass the blood sacrifice. Starting small in order to regain your power you attempted to push at the stone gate, hoping that it would just topple over. It didn't. Since the prison was on a cavernous mountain perhaps a little quake would loosen the rock and stone exposing the entrance for you to just strut right in.

You knelt in front of the stone gate, both knees firmly planted in soil and moss. You closed your eyes to focus on your magic. The sea breeze caressed your wind-chapped cheeks as you listened to the roar and crash of waves when they met the edge of the mountain. You summoned the power of the land through your fingers, plunging them deep into the soil in front of you. With a roar that echoed the strong ocean waves the mountain trembled in fear. The more your arms quivered in pain the deeper your fingers dug into the ground. Every inch rooted into the land caused the mountain rock to shrivel and rumble till small cracks webbed along the stone gate.

Azriel and Cassian were in the middle of breakfast when the floor beneath them swayed side to side, followed by a rolling motion. Dishes broke into pieces as they crashed to the floor, glass and sharp porcelain scattered the ground. Rhys urgently summoned them mind to mind.

There's a breach at the prison, get over here now before she releases them all.

Azriel and Cassian shared a look before they scrambled into their leathers and sheathed their most effective weapons, knives, daggers and swords, preparing for the worst.

Small cracks etched along the stone wall but it wasn't enough to open the gate. With your power almost completely drained you called upon the light. Seconds from opening your eyes to wield a crack of lightning a cool tendril wrapped around your wrist, carrying the smooth echo of ‘Please don’t do this’ in the whisper of Azriels voice.

The soothing touch jolted you. Your eyes shot wide open long enough to see the sky illuminate in a bright flash. A loud roaring sound boomed through the air as a violent strike of lightning slammed into the stone gate, crumbling it to pieces.

When you looked down to your trembling hands submerged in the rich soil, black tendrils seeped from the ground, wrapping up your arms and cooling your hot skin. “I think you like playing with fire don’t you?” Dusting the dirt from your hands you caressed the little shadow and quickly made your way inside the prison, looking at the sky one last time just in case you couldn't make it out.

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

“Hello Bone Carver.” You smiled at your old friend, “Remember that favor you owe me?”

The Bone Carver just rolled his dark eyes. “Whatever you're going to ask me, the answer is yes.”

You beamed, “thank you.”

It had been easier getting out of the mountain than getting in, a flaw in the protection wards you’d fix before you left.

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

By the time Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel trekked up the mountain you were long gone. Upon entering the prison Azriel was easily able to follow your scent which led him to the Bone Carvers cell. Rhys entered and excused the other two males.

“You sure you know what you're getting yourself into brother?” Cassian questioned, glancing at Azriel with his eyebrow raised. Azriels brows creased as he tilted his head, not understanding what he meant. “She almost leveled a fucking mountain. I love you brother, but I don't think you can handle her,” Cassian smirked, “but I know I can.”

Azriel snorted. They had shared females in the past accidentally and sometimes in the same room. “She’s different Cass. Touch her and I’ll cut off your hands.”

“Don’t need my hands to fuck her Az.” Cassian threw his head back and howled in laughter as Azriel punched his shoulder in jest.

Rhys walked out of the cell and stared at Azriel as if he knew something Azriel didn’t. His violet eyes bore into hazel ones with a look of sympathy, knowing what lay ahead for Azriel.

“What did he say?” Azriel nervously asked.

Rhys didn’t answer as he turned his back away from him, starting his walk back down the mountain. Cassian and Azriel shared a glance, a look of worry in both their eyes.

Back in Velaris, Rhys paced back and forth, his knuckles white from clenching them into fists. The violet of his eyes black with rage.

“She knows about Velaris and can easily bypass the protection wards. Now she knows how to get in and out of the prison. Find her before I do because I'll fucking kill her.” Rhys' tone was low and deadly like a viper ready to strike.

Without another word Azriel set out to find you, again. But this time he was determined to get answers. No more riddles, no distractions. There was a pattern he picked up on. You seemed to befriend the deadlier creatures of Prythian, The Suriel, Bryaxis somehow, and now The Bone Carver. Azriel set his sights on the middle of Prythian where the weaver Stryga was confined.

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

Work out of your home Court was almost complete, the allies that you needed were aware of their duties and were loyal to your mission. Your limbs ached and burned from your travels across multiple courts, the only thing bringing you a sense of peace was this last stop. Possibly the worst, not the person you had to visit but the stench alone turned your stomach.

The severed head in the sac you carried grew heavier and heavier as your final destination grew closer. Crimson stained your clothes leaving them stiff and rough against your delicate skin. Your hair has clumped from the dirt and blood, it’d been days since you had a nice bath. You open and close your mouth as the sour taste of decayed flesh hits your taste buds. Food wasn't easily available but the horrid smell had you doubling over, emptying what was left from your stomach. Sweat now beads down the side of your face. Heavy eyes spot the weavers cottage in the distance. Finally you think.

“Stryga!” You shout, as you rap at the wooden door, “open up!”

Strygas feet shuffle to the door, “must you shout? I’m blind not deaf you insubordinate buffoon,” she scolds as she swings the door open.

Thankfully she doesn't see the way your face falls as you hold in your gag. “I missed you too Stryga.” She beckons you inside, her arm extended towards her cluttered home. “I don't mean to be rude, but I’m in a hurry. It’s not far from now Stryga. You’ll still be able to eat your fill of evil males,” you declare, handing her your sac with the severed head. “I’m going to kill him, both of them. Don’t you worry. Your neck still remains attached to your spine. But I’ll need some help and I’d love nothing more if you fought by my side.”

Stryga lowers her head and you witness her undying loyalty as she motions to kneel before you. “That's unnecessary,” you attempt at grabbing her arm, stopping her bow.

“It would be a pleasure to unleash my wrath for you Khaos, Goddess of creation and decreation,” Stryga pledges as she remains within your grasp. “So, not a buffoon then?” you stifle a laugh at her earlier jab, and for the first time in your presence Stryga smiles.

“No one calls me that anymore.” You remind her, a wave of sadness crossing your eyes as you remember your mission and how far you are from home.

“Buffoon? Or khaos?” She smirks as you throw her a faux glare.

Stryga suddenly stiffened, her ear catching a faint whisper as she tilted her head. Her clawed fingernails digging into the worn wood of the door.

“Stryga?” You whispered, peering behind you at the dozens of trees that seemed unmoving.

“Shadows follow you.” She brings her forefinger to her lips, shushing you, “non threatening it seems,” her brows furrow, "they're captivated.” Her soulless eyes widen as they seem to meet your gaze. “The shadows have stolen from you.”

You don’t have time for her to elaborate. Quickly making you exit and excusing yourself, she shocks you with her parting words. “Do you know what it takes to make a star shine?”

You shake your head as if she can see you. “Darkness,” she replies. “I knew that,” you answer as you take steps away from her cottage, eager to leave before the shadows master finds you. “Then why do you run?” She retorts, crossing her arms as she braces against the frame of her door, a smug expression on her deadly face.

You don't spare her another glance but her words linger long after you've left her cottage. With your work away from home finally done you winnow to your home court, disappearing in a cloud of glitter and smoke.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You inhaled the crisp air, holding it in your lungs for three seconds before exhaling. Calming your racing heart and releasing the power that traveled through your veins. You smile briefly as the pressure of water against your body washes away days of dirt and blood. Finally letting your limbs relax, stretching your arms high above your head, reaching for the blue sky wanting nothing but to hold the warmth of the sun. In the peaceful silence of the forest you give yourself a moment of weakness. You allow the ache that's burrowed deep within your heart to break free from its prison. Your body’s screaming for a day a week or even a few hours of rest, where shifting isn't needed, and glamouring your true form doesn’t eat up most of your power. Where wars dont need to be fought and kings don’t need to die. You let your strength rest; to feel your pain shatter the windows to your soul for just a moment.

~~~~~

Azriel followed the sound of hushed whimpers, his shadows jumping from tree to tree. The soft cries soon turned harrowing then muffled, like a palm over the mouth.

‘Broken’

His shadow informed him.

Taking cover in the darkness below a large tree he heard the faint weeping, the sudden scent of citrus invading his nostrils. Your shoulders shook with the force of your cries as you cleaned off your wings. Azriel tried to look away from your bare back as you bathed beneath the mouth of a waterfall. Immediately he noticed your wings, two forewings and two hindwings that tapered towards the end like those of a luna moth.

You can shapeshift, he realizes, the large expanse of your wings covering your behind from view, leaving Azriel curious. But why were you crying? You didn't seem broken like his shadows had mentioned. That's when he saw it. Blood. You were cleaning off blood from your wings. Someone you had just killed he imagines. No, It was your blood. At the base of your wing closest to your back a large slash cut deep, almost severing your wing.

“You’re hurt, I can help you.” His voice rang out over the rushing water, slowly inching forward so as to not seem threatening. Frightened by his sudden appearance you vanish before his eyes, leaving a cloud of shimmering powder, momentarily blinding him. Weaving through the darkness of the in-between, you swiftly emerge, tackling Azriel to the ground, unsheathing his own dagger in the process.

Clothed in nothing but a thin nightgown, you straddle him, truth teller firm in your grip pushing against the column of his throat. His shadows swirled above your head creating a crown of darkness as if you were their queen. Azriel narrowed his eyes, ‘traitors.’

“Why have you looked for me?

Azriels speechless as he beholds your beauty, ignoring your question. His eyes wander over each of your features as if committing to memory. His hazel eyes land on your pouty lips and his throat bobs as his desire consumes him. Instinctually his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, just in case.

“Why have you looked for me?” You repeat, forcing his dagger against his jugular, a bead of blood painting his tan skin. Azriel smirked, the thrill of a dangerous female only exciting him, causing the scent of his arousal to fill the air. “You plan to kill me with my own blade?”

“I could kill you without it.” You counter, the force of your power sizzling through your fingers.

Azriels eyes flutter closed, the scent of his arousal drifting to your nose, a husky scent with a touch of night. “So the rumors are true,” Azriels brows furrow, “the shadowsinger playing hero to a damsel in distress, bedding any female that bats her eyes.”

Azriel then twists his foot around your ankle, using his weight to roll you over onto your back. You drag the blade across his throat as he tumbles you to the ground. His hand firmly grips your throat while the other wraps around your wrist, pinning you to the forest floor. With his knees firm on the ground, caging your hips, your legs resting on top of his thighs, making it easy for you to wrap your legs around his waist. “Who told you that?” He asks angrily, blood dripping down his throat from the shallow slash you gave him.

“Eris Vanssera '' you gasp, the slight pressure of his fingers around your throat arousing you more than it should. Yet the grip he holds on your wrists sends you in a panic as memories from your morning assault come crashing.

The males rancid breath makes your stomach churn as he licks at your cheek. The whole weight of his grotesque body has you pinned down, barely able to wriggle out from under him. With one hand he holds your wrists down above your head as the other fumbles with his belt.

Mid-flight he had collided into you, both barreling out of the sky crashing to the ground. Furious, he had attempted to sever your rare wings. The impact of your fall momentarily ceasing your powers, causing you to fight hand to hand.

Your crying only eggs him on, excitement in his rotten attempt at a smile. You're not sobbing out of fear. No. You mourn the life you have to take. You mourn every life, weather deserved or not. The spark that creates life remains. Rooted deep within you, pushed to the side in order for darkness to prevail.

Loyal to your duties as a Death God by any means necessary, you sucked in the secretions from your lungs and violently spat. Thick mucus covered the fat bastard's face, briefly losing his grip, giving you just enough time to unsheath your knife and drive into his thick skull. Later, you’d gift his remains to a dear friend.

Azriels eyes widened with shock as he felt a sharp pain shooting through him. Grunting and hissing he clutches his side, finding Truth teller lodged deep into his rib, warm blood dribbles from the wound staining the ground he's crouched at. “ Did you just stab me?” he chokes out, wincing as he pulls the dagger free, fingers splayed wide attempting to stop the bleeding.

Scrambling out from under him, chest heaving as the adrenaline flows through you. “You’ll live,” you pant as you stand, dusting off browned leaves from your back and knees. A sigh escapes your lips as you notice a blood stain on your white night dress. All you wanted was to wash up the violence that painted your skin and even then your efforts were futile. Azriels eyes trail up your body as he remains kneeled still putting pressure on his rib, his magic working to heal the open wound.

Anger courses through him as he zeros in on a purple bruise on your inner thigh, visible from how short your dress is. “Tell me who he is and I’ll kill him for you.” Those simple words had meant so much you almost cried at the gesture. While you slaughtered the bravest of males and brought warriors to their knees, destroyed kingdoms for unworthy kings, defended the defenseless not one person had offered to protect you. Countless times you had braved your own storm with not one soul willing to weather the chaos. Despite being used for your endless power, time and time again you still gave more than what you could ever receive in return. You save everyone but who was there to save you? You were one female and strong enough to fight your own battles and conquer without the help of highlords or kings. So why was this male cracking the shield of vulnerability wrapped so tightly around your heart?

Azriel seemed to notice your internal struggle, “come here,” he rasped as he stared through your troubled gaze. The tousled waves of his hair that fell so effortlessly over his forehead looked so enticing your fingers twitched. His hazel eyes had darkened and the way his thick thighs looked kneeling gripped you so fiercely your legs moved on their own volition. Standing on weak knees, his eyes never left yours as he patted his thigh, urging you to place your foot on his strong muscle. You obey his command with a slow nod. Azriel chances a glance at your exposed leg, “who do I have to kill?” He asks, softer this time. His bloodied fingers wrap around your delicate ankle and for once you don’t mind. Strong hands gently smooth over your leg, wrapping to the back of your calf. A shiver runs through you at the simple touch, his attentiveness relaxing your muscles. Slowly he lifts the hem of your gown, just enough to expose the bruise and nothing else. “Tell me whose entire family line should I butcher for touching you?” he murmured against your skin, circling your tender bruise with his perfect nose. “I killed him,” you breathe looking down at this male whose lips are inches away from your throbbing core.

“Mmmm good girl,” he growls, meeting your hooded gaze as he licks your inner thigh followed by a tender kiss. You nearly buckle at the sensation of his lips against your skin. The way his rough hands are caressing up and down the expanse of your leg. Lustful eyes roll back as he deeply inhales the sweet scent of your arousal, smothering his handsome face against the heated flesh of your leg like a house pet greeting their owner. “Let me worship you,” he purrs, his hot breath ghosting over your covered core as the tips of his fingers kiss the space between your legs. Azriel could cum right now just watching you throw your head back as you gasp from his fingers grazing your pulsing core. His pants are pulled tight from his cock pushing against his leathers, wanting to bury himself inside you. He’s willing to wait as long as you need but right now he’ll take whatever you give him.

When your eyes meet Azriels again you don’t miss the burning desire in his beautiful eyes or the outline of his bulge as it strains against his pants, suddenly it becomes too much too soon and before you know it you’ve shoved him away, the yearn clouding your vision clears and your back to being a powerful Death God.

“Is that what you tell the females you lay with? That you’ll worship their bodies like the Goddess they are?”

Azriel hangs his head between his dropped shoulders. Shame of his past finally catching up to him when it matters the most. When what he wants more than anything is threatened by his past mistakes. What was he thinking? Oh Gods and Elain. He was offering to please and bed you while he still hadn’t broken things off with Elain.

“You never answered my question. Why have you looked for me?”

Azriel remains silent.

“Did I offer a service which benefited you or your court?”

“Not exactly.” He answers

“Do you seek to use my power for your gain?” You continue, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“No”

“Do you seek treasure?”

“No” He replies with a scoff.

“You seek power then?”

Azriel shakes his head, “no, not power.”

“Knowledge?”

“Nope.”

“You do not pursue power, nor do you wish to bathe in coins, and knowledge is neither here nor there, so you must be searching for love?”

Azriel stilled.

“Ah, love it is. I regret to inform you, I cannot make someone love you.”

“That's not it. You healed me as a child. You were a stranger that showed me more kindness than my own family, and I've spent my entire life looking for you. Not to ask for more healing or to share your magic with others who may need you, but to offer my gratitude. All these years I’ve wondered what you’ve made of yourself, if you're happy, successful, have you found love or have you married or.. ” his gaze shies away, “or if you’re mated.” His tone is sincere, like he's been practicing those words for centuries.

You narrow your eyes at him, gauging whether he's telling you the truth or not, though you sense no lies. “What’s your name shadowsinger?”

“Azriel.”

“Azriel, I'm sorry but the person you're looking for doesn't exist anymore, but I’m even more sorry that I don’t recall this interaction.”

You watch as his expression sombers.

“I’m very flattered though,” you give him a tight lipped smile and get closer, deciding to sit next to him on the stone flat rock that rims the pool you were bathing in. Hoping to offer the same sincerity, you gently place your palm on his lap. “I suppose I can answer your questions, I feel it's the least I can do since you’ve indeed stalked me all these years.” Azriel chuckles remembering the night he said he wasn't a stalker. “I’m not happy, or successful where coin is involved. I have found love in all the faces I’ve seen and the wonderful friends I’ve made, but I’ve only loved one male.” while heat flushes your cheeks and a smile escapes your lips, Azriel frowns, unprepared for the hurt your answer would cause. “His name is Lucien, but –”

Azriel doesn't hear a word you say after that, the weight of your confession pinning him where he sits. Thank Gods for that because he's sure he’d topple over if he were standing. His mind imagines what Lucien had done for you to love him. What words did he use to make you sigh, what cheesy jokes he told to hear you laugh.

Does Lucien know that your skin feels like the finest silk known to man. Has he had the pleasure of kissing you and taking you to bed?

Azriel can feel his anger bubbling or jealousy he's not quite sure but he's unable to stop the hateful words from spewing out, “Lucien can’t love you, he has a mate! And she's pretty and sweet, she's sunshine and rainbows. She's gentle and soft.–”

“And everything I’m not.”

You finish as you swallow the tight knot in the back of your throat. You turn away from him, wiping at a stray tear that's rolled down your cheek. The truth in his words hurting you more than they should; since you’ve moved on. Lucien has too at least that's what you've heard.

Moving on doesn't cure the sadness or put together the broken pieces of your shattered heart. Forgetting Lucien doesn't erase the years of longing. You could never blame him for leaving you. Out of left field he grew distant, a silent struggle you knew nothing of. And you haven't seen him since.

Azriel places his scarred hand on your shoulder, an apology on the tip of his tongue as well as clarification for his words. He doesn’t get the chance as his touch burns your skin causing you to jolt and shrug him off. Azriel panics as he notices your red rimmed eyes, wet with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t..what I meant was-”

“No. You're right. How can someone like him love something like me?”

Azriel shakes his head. You thought of Lucien like the sun, brilliant and warm, setting fires to forest floors and warming the coldest of hearts. And you the moon, who only glows with the help of the sun. You had it all wrong. Lucien was just a sly fox sneaking his way into the heart of the moon. How could someone like him love something like you? The real question was how could he not love you?

Females like you were born during a raging storm under the phenomenon of an eclipse. With lightning in your veins, thunder in your heart and chaos in your bones.

He shouldn't feel hope in your sorrow but he’s glad Lucien didn’t choose you. Azriel would choose you; In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, he’d find you and he’d choose you.*

If he had the chance he’d rewind the clock and say what he actually meant. If not for a chance at forever then to ease your heavy heart. The words he spoke out of jealousy would hold a different meaning had he spoken them out of love.

‘Lucien can't love you the way I want to love you. He has a mate! So you were not made for him, but perhaps you were made for me. She’s pretty and sweet, sunshine and rainbows. But you balance strength and femininity like no one else. You're stunning, and selfless, you glow like the moon and shine brighter than the stars. She's gentle and soft but she can never compare to you. Not then, not now, not ever. No one has compared to you.’

But those words remain unspoken as he watches your figure retreat into the orange glow of the forest. Your beautiful wounded wings gracing the ground with your presence, leaving behind a trail of starlight. It was then he realized you didn't need to be saved, you needed to be found.

~~~~~~~~

You could cry tears of happiness as you near your humble cottage. Weaving through the tallest of trees and jumping over a running brook with flat rocks covered in moss. A sigh leaves your lips as you take in the place you call home. The wood creaks a familiar sound as you bounce up the worn steps.

Before your hand reaches the bronze knob, the door swings open and warmth envelopes you in a crushing hug. Your melodious laugh echoes in the air as strong arms spin you round and round. Your eyes meet those of amber as he finally lets your feet touch the floor. “I’ve missed you so much,” he admits, as a warm palm cradles your face, gently tracing circles on the apples of your cheek. He wraps his arm around your waist bringing your body flush with his. His heat offers a comfort not found with anyone else. And you allow yourself to melt into him as he softly brings his lips to yours.

His tender kiss turns desperate when you run your fingers through his auburn hair, lighting a fire that only the wetness between your legs can extinguish. The night runs long as this male beds you over and over and the only name that slips past your lips like a prayer is, “Eris. Eris. Eris.”

Part 4

A/n: The Vanserra brothers have entered the chat. 😏 what do you think happened between Lucien and Reader? any guesses?

taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @going-through-shit @dr4g0ngirl @mybestfriendmademe @isa1b2h3

[littlest-w01f]

Loving

Rhysand x Evelyn (See Evelyn here)

For @officialrhysandweek

Rhysand week 2024 Masterlist

Day 4: Lord of Night

Summary: Evelyn's learnt there is more to the High Lord of Night than she knew.

Cw: Fluff, cuddles, horny, pregnancy

Rhysand was the male her father had wanted her to marry. Rhysand was a cruel High Lord. Rhysand was the most horrible male. That's what Evelyn knew all her life.

Evelyn sighed, turning in her bed, well, Rhysand's bed she had slept in, her eyes opening to the sight of Rhysand asleep. Blood red roses grew on their headboard, flowers she'd created out of nothing in her peaceful sleep.

But, Rhysand was her mate. Rhysand was one of the most kindest High Lords. Rhysand was one of the gentlest males she had ever met. Rhysand was caring. Rhysand was loving.

She watched his features, and he didn't look a bit like the cruel image of him everyone else would see.

The High Lord's broad chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his lean muscles relaxed through the exposed torso. A hint of stubble dusted his strong jawline, adding to the allure of his masculine beauty. Even in sleep, there was an undeniable aura of power about him, yet it seemed tempered by an underlying gentleness that Evelyn had come to appreciate during their time together.

Evelyn gazed at Rhysand's peaceful face, illuminated only by the soft moonlight filtering through the ornate windows of their opulent bedchamber. His chiselled jawline was relaxed, his full lips parted slightly as he breathed deeply in slumber. A lock of onxy blue-black hair fell across his forehead, adding to his rugged yet endearing appearance, being mated had done him so well if Evelyn were to boast about herself.

As she studied Rhysand, Evelyn felt a pang of guilt for having believed the vile rumours about him for so long. Her father's words echoed in her mind, that Rhysand was cruel just like his father, and heartless, and that she deserved a male like him for being a bad daughter. But now, seeing the tender lines around Rhysand's closed eyes, the way his fingers curled gently beneath the coverlet, reaching for her even in sleep, she realized how wrong those assumptions were.

Evelyn reached out tentatively, her fingertips hovering just above Rhysand's cheek before lightly brushing against the warm skin. He stirred softly at her touch, eyelids fluttering open to reveal those striking violet irises that seemed to pierce straight into her soul. For a moment they simply gazed at each other, a thousand unspoken words passing between them in the charged silence.

Rhysand lifted a hand to cover hers, pressing it more firmly against his face as he turned to place a gentle kiss upon her palm. "Good morning, elskan," he murmured, voice low and gravelly from sleep. The endearment sent a shiver down Evelyn's spine, the intimacy of it both thrilling and terrifying.

The High Lord's gaze held a warmth that contradicted everything Evelyn had been led to believe about him. There was no cruelty, no heartlessness, only genuine affection for her reflected back in those mesmerizing violet depths.

"You're awake early today," Rhysand noted, his voice still thick with sleep but filled with a contentment that mirrored hers. He shifted slightly, pulling her closer until their bodies touched intimately along the length of their joined forms. "Did something disturb your rest?" he asked, concern lacing his tone.

"Oh just this baby that keeps kicking," Evelyn mentioned nonchalently.

Evelyn's casual remark made Rhysand smile, a slow curve of his sensual lips that held no small amount of pride. He placed a large, warm hand over the swell of her belly, feeling the tiny flutters of movement within. "Ah, so our little one is eager to greet the day," he observed, stroking gently over the taut skin. "No doubt she takes after her mother, always ready for adventure."

Evelyn hadn't been pregnant long, nearly three weeks and the babe seemed to have figured out she could move and hadn't stopped for even a second.

Evelyn remembered the first time she slept in the same space as him, she'd truly rather be anywhere but there back then. And now, nothing could be close enough.

Elation swirled within Evelyn as memories flooded her mind, the initial night they shared a bed, when she had been terrified by Rhysand's proximity, convinced that his cruelty would manifest itself physically. Now, the very thought of being apart from him filled her with a profound sense of loss.

Rhysand's gaze softened, violet eyes shimmering with affection as he brought her hand to his lips once more, kissing each knuckle reverently.

His thumb traced idle patterns over the delicate knuckles of her hand, the other giving soothing stroks her slightly swollen belly, an innocent act filled with deep affection and unspoken promises. "You have nothing to fear from me. You've never had."

Evelyn began to speak but she couldn't find the right words, so she simply nestled into his warmth.

"You're never allowed to doubt who I am again," he declared sternly, though there was unmistakable warmth behind his words. "I know I may not have been easy to understand… but remember always…" He leaned closer until his breath whispered against her earlobe "… I am yours."

His whispered declaration hung heavy in the air between them, thick with promise and raw emotion. Rhysand's eyes held an intensity that seemed to burn right through to her very core, making her feel both seen and cherished.

Slowly, deliberately, one strong arm slid around her waist pulling her flush against him while the other tangled itself within her loose curls. His head dipped lower until their noses brushed and his mouth hovered mere inches away from hers.

"And I am hungry," Evelyn whispered cheekily, giving him a gentle peck.

Rhysand chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that vibrated through Evelyn's entire body. "Hungry, darling?" He sat up, pulling Evelyn with him so that she straddled his lap, facing him. "Well, I suppose it's the perfect opportunity for breakfast."

His hands slid under her loose nightgown, palms grazing the smooth expanse of her thighs before finding purchase on her hips. With a firm grip, he guided her down onto his hardness, letting out a low groan at the sensation of her wet heat surrounding him.

"I'll feed you, my greedy little flower," Rhysand promised huskily, his lips seeking hers in a searing kiss that left no doubt about his intentions. "And afterwards, perhaps you can return the favor…"

With a possessive claim, Rhysand's lips crashed against hers in a fiery display of dominance and desire. His tongue swept past her lips, demanding entrance and tasting every inch of her mouth with hungry need. His free hand roamed up along the curve of her back, gripping tightly at the fabric of her nightgown as if trying to pull her even closer than physically possible.

Evelyn gasped into the kiss, feeling overwhelmed by both the strength of Rhysand's arousal and the tenderness that radiated off him in waves. She returned his passionate embrace eagerly, wrapping herself around him like ivy clinging to a tree trunk - secure and unwavering despite any attempts at separation.

Their bodies melded together seamlessly, every contour fitting perfectly against another creating an intoxicating blend of pleasure and comfort unlike anything either had experienced before.

Evelyn then pulled away, "Alright, food first. Sex later, ok?"

A mischievous glint lit up Rhysand's violet eyes as he heard Evelyn's conditions, but he didn't argue. Instead, he gave her a playful wink before easing her off of himself completely.

"Your wish is my command," he murmured, releasing her only momentarily before standing gracefully from their entwined state. He offered his hand towards the large dining table, where with a wave of his hand, breakfast awaited.

As they moved towards the decadence laid out before them, Rhysand stole glances at Evelyn’s form, her curves outlined by the thin fabric of her nightgown, the way her tender breasts rose and fell with each breath she took, her body was changing little by little every day, and he loved each development, the flare of her hips leading down to the roundness of her pregnant belly which bore silent testament to their love.

Before Evelyn could take her seat, Rhysand pulled her on his lap, "Stay right here, my flower," he purred in her ear, kissing around it, a hand over her stomach "Let me feed my darlings. What would you like? Something sweet? Spicy? Sour?"

"The skewers… Sweet." Evelyn smiled softly, pointing to the fruit skewers, mixed with all kinds of fruits.

With a pleased hum, Rhysand obliged, selecting two skewers of fresh fruits from the spread and handing one to Evelyn. Their fingers brushed against each other in the exchange, sending sparks of electricity coursing through their connected bodies.

"Eat up, my love," he urged softly, guiding the fruit to her lips with his own. As she accepted the morsel, he watched her intently, his violet eyes sparkling with admiration and lustful promise.

Feeling bold, Rhysand dipped his head lower, nipping gently at the exposed column of her throat before trailing kisses upwards towards her jawline. "You taste sweeter than any fruit I've ever known," he growled against her skin, his voice thickened by desire.

Rhysand was many things, but the one certain thing was that the Lord of Night was hers. Their gazes locked, violet meeting hers in a piercing stare that spoke volumes without needing words.

Evelyn's hair tumbled wildly around her face, framing her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Rhysand's chiselled features were etched with desire, his lips parted and eyes glazed with lust. The room around them faded into insignificance. They only had eyes for each other.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith}

{Rhysand Taglist - @yeonalie}

{RhysandWeek Taglist - @andreperez11}

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #58] Obstinancy

warnings: heavy petting, starluvrs r sooooo in luv, and i am in luv with them!

wc: 5.4K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Look, we raised enough money," Jeongguk stresses into the room, though he isn't directly addressing anybody. He's refusing to look anyone in the eye, which is strange considering he'd die for every single person within these four walls without hesitation. 

In the backrooms of the gallery, the last duty to undertake is finalising the bids—and he saved the best until last.

The main light is off, expertly placed lamps illuminating the meeting space in a warm hue. Whoever designed the space did a fantastic job creating a calming ambience; even so, Jeongguk is still on edge. He's pacing the room.

"Rescind the bid," he says as he finally stops to face you all, though he isn't looking at you. After all, you're not the person who made the bid. "It's okay."

You're sitting beside Seoyeon, who's watching Jeongguk just as intensely as you are—though he isn't looking at her, either.

The auction had continued with bemused chatter and daring bids. Opening it with such a huge donation set the tone. Got people a little reckless; eager to show off their financial prowess. By the time the final tallies were in, enough had been raised to match that first, unbelievable bid.

Wire transfers complete, the business account (which had previously just had some of Jeongguk's savings in it) is now bursting at the seams. Contracts have been signed, business emails exchanged. Namjoon's advertising space was auctioned off to the Ryu marketing team. Jimin's newest client is some finance bro who definitely buys all of his homewares in black or chrome because he doesn't know how to style anything else. Taehyung's art now has half a dozen new homes. It had been a roaring success by all metrics.

Still, Jeongguk is being stubborn about this one.

We are the company we keep, and Jeongguk's stubborn nature was nurtured by someone equally intransigent.

It comes as a surprise to absolutely no one when Yoongi defiantly shakes his head.

"Me and Seoyeon ran the numbers," he shrugs, pushing forward the proposal plan he'd been stewing on for the best part of a week. There's a slight bend to the centre, where it's been curved into his blazer pocket for the entire evening. This wasn't done on a whim. Nothing Yoongi does ever is. "I've been after a new unit away from the workshop, and the building you're after has what? Space for three commercial units? Four, if you convert the apartment on the top floor."

"Yeah, but—"

"But what?" Yoongi deadpans, knowing that Jeongguk is being an idiot. "It makes sense. I've got the capital to buy the building outright. It gives you the premises you want, and me the space to expand. I'd be forking out just as much wherever I ended up. This way, at least you're free from the barrier of relying on the banks, or anyone else."

"But we've raised enough—"

"You haven't," Yoongi says again with such stoic command that you know he's already been over this plan a hundred times in his own head. Knows the pros and the cons, the ins and the outs. Again, nothing Yoongi ever does is on a whim. "Take away my bid, you're left with what? 125mil, give or take? It's good—great, even—but you have to factor everything else into that, not just the building. This way the building is taken care of. You rent the space from me, no rent until you guys are up and running, and it means you can spend the rest on shit you need, like actually fitting out the space."

"But—"

"Gguk!" Yoongi sighs. In his head, it's a no-brainer. He's failing to consider that even though he's been over the numbers a dozen times, this is new information for Jeongguk to digest. He hadn't even considered this as a possibility—which is funny, because Yoongi saw it as an inevitable outcome ever since they first started discussing the restaurant. Even if he got funding from the bank, he'd have still offered a similar move. "Do you not want the unit? Is that it?"

"No," Jeongguk sulks a little. "I want the unit."

He doesn't mean to be a baby. Really.

It's just that he wanted to earn it.

Similarly to you arranging the auction, it feels like other people are doing the hard work for him.

When it comes to motivations in life, Jeongguk has always been intrinsic in how he seeks gratification. Superficial rewards like money don't bother him. He sets goals, and his brain is scratched just right when he achieves them. It's like a sharp pencil ticking off a box, or a gold star being smoothed onto a fridge chart. He wants to be the one to do it. There's no fun in watching other people score the winning goal, when he knows damn well it should be him to do it.

He's set in his ways. Bull-headed. Was born in the year of the ox, so it's only natural he should share such tendencies. Knowing him as well as you do, and well-aware of exactly the issues you ran into when he found out you'd been planning the auction, it comes as no surprise.

"I was gonna wait to bid until my offering—save me having to make furniture for anyone else—but you being a stubborn git forced my hand. Don't be a twat. Accept the bid."

"Look," Seoyeon interjects, knowing that Jeongguk and Yoongi can both be as bad as one another when it comes to sheer stubbornness. They both have well-weathered heels that love to get stuck in the mud. Instead, she looks at and offers a smile. "Why don't you two speak about it? I'll go get the car running. C'mon, Yoongi. Give them a little time."

"But—"

"C'mon," she interrupts Yoongi, much like he had done to Jeongguk. No matter how assertive Yoongi may be, they both take it in turns to wear the pants, or so to speak. She gets to her feet and encourages Yoongi to do the same. "We're giving you a ride, right? To your place?"

"Think so," you confirm, knowing that it had always been the intention. Seoyeon hasn't been drinking—is on a post honeymoon detox, apparently—so is the designated driver for the evening. Glancing over to Jeongguk, he throws you a quick nod, still stewing in his stubbornness.

After all, it's not your place you're heading to. It's his. Seoyeon just grouped you in together, and funnily enough, neither of you noticed.

You place your hand over Seoyeon's as she gives your shoulder a squeeze, before she drags Yoongi out of the room with her.

"Don't be too long," she says.

Realistically, she doesn't expect you to actually discuss much of the night at all. Just thinks that Jeongguk needs a few moments alone with you.

Jimin had invited everyone back to their place, so peace and quiet really won't be an option for the rest of the evening. It's a night of celebration, and yet Jeongguk looks as if you've just told him his favourite coffee place is closing down.

When the door clicks shut, Jeongguk turns away from you. Walks to the window. Presses his palms against the windowsill and lets his posture ease.

"Y'know for a guy who just got given a golden ticket, you don't seem very happy."

You're met with silence, an unmoving Jeongguk continuing to look out of the window at the sprawling blanket of midnight veiling this part of the city. Building lights twinkle, and light pollution stops the stars from shining quite as brightly as they should do.

Still, as you get to your feet and walk around the table, Jeongguk doesn't need to see the stars to know they're there. Can feel them infuse his bloodstream as your arm slinks around his waist.

Relenting, Jeongguk lifts one of his arms to drape it around your shoulders. Presses a kiss into the side of your head. Squeezes. Derives a comfort from you that can't be found anywhere else. Concedes, "It's just a lot, isn't it?"

"Yeah," you softly agree. "It's a lot."

He could be talking about the money. Could be talking about the evening as a whole. It doesn't matter. You don't ask for clarification.

There's no point in trying to talk him down from this state of stubborn resistance. He needs to feel it; to process it. You know him like the back of your hand at this point, and are certain that he doesn't need you to be reasonable or rational on his behalf. He just needs you to hear him.

"It's a big burden on Yoongi, too," he hums. "If the business goes to shit, it's a wasted investment. He's putting his ass on the line. I feel bad."

You don't think he should. Yoongi is more business savvy than the rest of you combined—it's how he managed to grow his business so well—and so you know this won't be a hastily made decision on his part.

Squeezing your arm a little tighter around his waist, you decide against telling as such. Instead, you simply say, "Your friends love you, Gguk. There's nothing to feel bad about, okay? And Yoongi aside, you've got more in your business account than the bank was ever prepared to give you. Gguk, this is happening."

Standing up straight, you pull away from him ever so briefly to get him facing you. Reaching up, you rearrange a little bit of his hair, preening him for no reason other than loving him.

While a smile so soft Jeongguk thinks you must be made of stardust, you whisper, "You did it."

There's a sweetness to the bashful smile that blossoms on Jeongguk's lips. He's trying not to count his eggs before they hatch, but god damn, it feels amazing to hear you say that. He begins to play with your hair now, preening you for no reason other than loving you right back.

" We did it."

Balmy in the way he looks at you, Jeongguk's eyes are full of so many galaxies it feels as if you've just started studying astronomy. Full of wonder, you can't quite believe that he's your boyfriend. That he loves you. That he considers his achievements to be yours, too.

"Course we did," you smile. "We're, like, the dream team."

"Oh yeah?" He grins, now, pulling you closer. Nudging his nose up against yours, Jeongguk is in just as much disbelief as you are. If he'd have been told on that first night he met you that you'd end up here, he'd have objected. Wouldn't have believed it. Would have said that shooting stars are impossible to catch—yet here you are, in his arms. "Dreamy, huh?"

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you nod and rise to your tiptoes. Let your nose nestle in beside his. "The dreamiest."

Lips sinking between his, it's as if a star is whizzing through your nervous system. Everything sparkles. You, him, the way you both feel.

The way in which Jeongguk kisses you is cosmic. Always has been. Time and space ceases to exist for those moments you spend lost in his embrace. Perhaps it's why it's always been so easy; perhaps you've found exactly where you belong. Nothing else felt comfortable, because nothing else was him.

"Dreams aren't as good as this," he husks against your lips. Hands reaching down to your thighs, he leverages you into a position that is far more indecent. Wraps your legs over his hips, and presses you against the window pane. Grunts as your hands tangle in his hair. Pulls away just to say, "Pretty, perfect star, aren't you? Keep makin' wishes on you and they keep coming true. How'd you do it, baby?"

If Jeongguk actually wants you to speak, he's got a funny way of showing it. Has his tongue in your mouth as soon as he's done making such unreasonable demands. Renders you speechless.

The window you're pressed against is thick, but part of you worries about a freak accident that'll have you transforming from a star into a meteor. You're less concerned about prying eyes. The office space is to the back of the gallery, with only a mountain and the moonlight for a voyeur.

Pulling back from the kiss, you soften the intensity of it all. Whisper, "Magic."

"Magic," he agrees. Doesn't get the memo about potential death. Kisses you again. "And it's all mine, isn't it?"

"Surely it's mine?" You retort with a smile in between the barely-there kisses that he's intent on delivering every half-second.

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, letting his nose nudge against yours. "What's yours is mine."

"We're not married."

"Doesn't matter," he tells you. Believes it. Knows that this is the kinda love you take to the grave, marriage or not. "Mine. Isn't it?"

As sweet as he is, you'll never let a man claim you like that. Will never reduce yourself to be the possession of someone else. Would rather die than say—

"Yours," you needily mumble against his lips, because apparently feminism is taking a day off.

"Yeah, you are," he arrogantly agrees, and doesn't give you a chance to argue back.

Jeongguk has a point to prove. Lost a bidding war earlier and somehow equates it to losing you. Needs reassurance. Confirmation. Obscene affirmations.

His kisses are cardiac, and you're not sure how long your body will be able to survive before it succumbs to everything he is.

He's always thought you'd be the one to eclipse him. If you knew that, you'd think he was mad. How the golden haze of Jeon Jeongguk could ever be tainted, you'll never know. The sun to your stars, he shines just as brilliantly—if not more so.

"Koo," you whine as his hips begin to rut up against you. The buckle of his belt is pressing against you. Gets you feeling all kind of fucked up. Gets you keen. Needy. Wet.

"Yeah, baby?"

"We can't," you tell him, as your hands aren't cupping his jaw, and you're not pulling him back in for more kisses.

They're feverish. Feral. You're a mess of lips, tongue, and teeth, and neither of you cares to be pretty about things. It's beyond that point. Truth be told, the desperation you have for one another only serves to make it an even more gorgeous display of intimacy.

"Told you earlier," he says, his lips dipping to your throat, as he begins to elicit the loveliest of sounds from you. "We ca—"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, get a room," Yoongi almost gags as he barges on into the room, door handle hitting the wall.

You scramble down instantly, beyond thankful that Jeongguk hadn't pulled the front of your dress down like you know he was just about to. Though you're standing now, trying to smooth your dress out, Jeongguk remains in the same position. Hands pressed either side of your head against the window, he's keeping you trapped in. Preserving your dignity, though there's not that much left.

"Do you mind?" Jeongguk grits back to Yoongi. His head hangs a little low, but he casts his eyes to yours to ensure you're okay. Cheeks blushed, your teeth are pressing into your bottom lip, holding back a giggle. He fights a smile, 'cause he's still annoyed with the entire situation, but just can't help himself. Gives in. Silently says, "Love you."

You wanna kiss him again. Tell him you love him too. Tell Yoongi to fuck off—but you owe him one.

As annoyed as he is, Jeongguk knows he owes Yoongi, too.

Turning to face him, Jeongguk keeps you covered. Reaches back. Tucks you a little further in.

It's sweet, admittedly, but it's unnecessary. You don't need protecting, not from Yoongi. Clasping his hand, you walk out from beside him. Stand side by side. Wince a little as you notice the incredibly parental look on Yoongi's face.

"On a technicality," you cheekily reason. "We did get a room."

Though his stern expression persists, there is a slight tremble to Yoongi's lips. Approval, almost.

"I thought the laser tag place was bad, but this was worse," he assures you. "I swear to God, if I walk in on you two going at it one day—"

"You'll owe us," Jeongguk says. "People would pay good—"

He's cut off by the back of your hand lightly tapping his chest. "What Jeongguk means to say is 'you won't'."

You really hope you're right. Walked in on Danbi and Taehyung once. Still carry the mental scars. Never want to inflict that on anyone else.

"Good," Yoongi snorts as he leans against the doorframe. "'Cause I'm already giving you fuckers enough money. Now, are you ready to go?"

"Not before you say sorry," Jeongguk asserts.

The demand takes even you by surprise. Glancing up to Jeongguk with a look of bewilderment, you recognise the look on his face immediately. He's stropping, still. Was annoyed earlier, and is now doubly annoyed for being interrupted. You're not gonna ask, but you'd hazard a guess that his cock is painfully hard in the constraints of his formal trousers. You also don't glance down, for fear of embarrassment if it's obvious.

It's not like Yoongi isn't aware of exactly what the pair of you get up to when you're alone, it's just that no one wants to see their friends' boners.

Or at least, most don't. When you and Jeongguk were just friends, you wanted to see it all the time. Just bestie things, really.

"Sorry?" Yoongi laughs. "I just saved your ass—"

"You made me look like a shitty boyfriend!"

Jeongguk is too busy pouting in Yoongi's direction to notice that you're holding back a laugh. Yoongi did no such thing. Yes, he interrupted the bidding war between Jeongguk and Seokjin, but everyone was too shocked by the bid to care about why Jeongguk might have been bidding in the way that he was.

Realistically, Jeongguk doesn't care about anyone's opinion. Just doesn't want your shitbag of an ex to ever try and use it against him in a pissing contest. Can almost see the smug look on Seokjin's infuriatingly good-looking face as he'd gotten outbid. He did then also realise he'd been outbid, and ended up slinking out of the gallery shortly after.

Jeongguk has never experienced Seokjin's finance bro social circle in the way that you have. He doesn't realise that they'll be reminding Seokjin of his pathetic failure to win on a weekly basis for at least the next six months, or until the next time one of them loses everything to a crypto collapse.

"No," Yoongi corrects Jeongguk. "I sacrificed the money I was gonna make Seoyeon bid on my furniture for bloody painting date instead." He looks at you and grits his teeth apologetically. "Sorry. No offense."

"None taken."

Yoongi nods in your direction, then looks back to Jeongguk and continues. "You know what I was gonna do, Gguk? Was gonna win that furniture, and fit out your restaurant, free of charge. But now? Now I have to make a fuckin' dining table for some rich wanker who wants it shipped to his holiday home in Jeju. Jeju! I'll need to get a shipping container!"

"Or," Jeongguk suggests, 'cause he forgets he's supposed to be having a tantrum. Remembers quickly enough to deliver his solution with an attitude, but not to stop himself from giving a solution altogether. "Go on holiday to Jeju and make it there."

Yoongi purses his lips. Narrows his eyes. Really doesn't want to laugh, but Jeongguk's petulant nature gets under his skin and tickles at his ribs.

"You're annoying," he tells Jeongguk—but he is grinning, now. "C'mon, Seoyeon's waiting in the car. We'll talk business tomorrow. Jimin's got enough alcohol to open that damn restaurant, apparently."

"He has?"

Yoongi nods. "Mhm. He just called. Wanted to know where we were. Said he'd popped to the mart on the way home. Put it all through on the card you guys use for bills. Drinks on you, or so it would seem."

Jeongguk purses his lips. Scrunches them up towards his nose. Wants to play petulant still, but you're tugging on his hand and walking to the door.

Turning back to face him, you smile. Refuse to let him sour this moment with his own stubbornness. "C'mon. Let's celebrate."

And while he can say no to Yoongi, it's far harder to say no to you.

He manages it, though, even if just to say, "Yoongi just give us like, five seconds. Please."

"Five seconds," Yoongi calls back, walking ahead. Knows he walked in on something incredibly illicit and isn't dumb. Knows there are things that need sorting that concern no one but the pair of you.

As soon as the coast is clear, Jeongguk turns away from you. Fiddles around a little, sorts out the angle of his boner so that it doesn't fuckin' ache, and then tosses you your underwear. 

"You'll probably want these in their car."

"You're probably right," you awkwardly agree as you also sort yourself out.

"Want them back later, though," he mumbles as you drag him out of the office space and through the hallways of the gallery.

Though his feet are heavy, and he whines all the way back to the car, Jeongguk'll go wherever you drag him. Down to hell, or across the seven seas. He'd go anywhere. Everywhere. Insane, if he had to.

But as he rubs his thumb over yours in the backseat of Yoongi's car, you know you really don't have to try all that hard.

By the time you arrive, drinks are flowing. Jimin's got a playlist running through speakers, and the sink is full of ice and cans. A few bottles, too.

With one in his hand, Jimin cheers as he notices you all walk in.

"The man of the hour," he beams. Could be talking about Jeongguk or Yoongi. Truth be told, even he doesn't know who he's talking about.

One thing he is sure of is that cheap alcohol needs to be drunk quickly and in abundance. Passes over the bottle he's been swigging on to Jeongguk. It's some shitty cava that Jeongguk is pretty sure should be legally labelled as sparkling wine, 'cause there ain't no way this is the authentic stuff. He grits his teeth as he takes a swig and finds it goes down just as terribly as he thought it would.

Still, he passes it over to you. Says, "tastes like piss."

You drink it regardless. Grit your teeth and hiss a little bit just like he did.

"It's not that bad," you almost choke.

Jeongguk laughs, and takes the bottle from you, swigging down another mouthful. Jimin's already acquired another bottle, so this one belongs to the pair of you now. You could get glasses to drink from, but what's the point? Who cares?

Almost all of the seats in the living room are taken. Danbi and Taehyung have squeezed onto the sofa right between Hoseok and Namjoon, much to their dismay. S'what they get for downplaying this whole totally not a crush thing they have going on.

Jeongguk pulls on Jimin's ear, pulling him out of the armchair across from the sofa.

"Ow, ow, ow," Jimin hisses as he hops up, body contorting into the strangest positions.

Jeongguk turns to face you, then nods towards the now empty chair. "Sit."

"Don't!" Jimin tries to assert, but Jeongguk pinches his ear with a little more strength, and Jimin starts wailing again.

With a terribly hidden grin, you do as you're told. Let the pink of your cheeks blossom quite marvellously, both embarrassed and proud of how easily you fold to Jeongguk's demands. Embarrassed, because letting a man dictate your moves is shameful. Proud, because you know he'll never instruct anyone else like he does with you. There's a confidence to him that he didn't have this time last year. Rejection isn't something he fears, or so it would seem.

"You two dating is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," Jimin sulks when Jeongguk finally lets go of his poor ear.

"Us?" You question. Look to Jeongguk, and are pleased to see him mirroring your expression of utter confusion. "Dating?"

"Oh my god," Jimin groans.

"Jesus, have you taken something?" Jeongguk says with just as much bewilderment. His eyes are so wide that you're surprised they're still in his skull. With a laugh and a shake of his head, Jeongguk continues, "No, no no. We're just frie—"

"Mum," Jimin calls out, very much aware that his mother isn't in the room. It's not who he's calling for. "Dad. They're doing it again!"

Sighing, Yoongi and Seoyeon give each other a subtle look of helplessness—and then they both look at you and Jeongguk with the exact same expression.

Holding his hands up, even though one of them is still wrapped around the neck of the bottle, Jeongguk feigns innocence. It's enough to satisfy them, and as soon as Jimin takes a swig on his drink, he's distracted by Taehyung and Danbi's conversation, of which he quickly inserts himself into.

He also inserts himself into the sofa, right between Danbi and Taehyung. Gives them a taste of their own medicine. Namjoon and Hoseok are further squished into the sides, both just as woebegone as the other.

"He's really quite impressive, isn't he?" You muse as Jeongguk perches on the arm rest. Both of you are looking towards Jimin with bemused smiles on your faces.

"He sure is something." Leaning back, Jeongguk hushes his voice. Says, "Impressive is a stretch. If you need reminding, I'll take you to his room right now—"

"Shut up," you laugh, softly tapping his arm with the back of your hand. He twists slightly in his position so that his arm can rest on top of the chair, allowing for you to cosy into him. Feet on the seat, knees up, your hand slinks over his thigh. It's not indecent or inappropriate in any fashion, just a very undeniable indication of how much you care for one another. "Behave yourself."

It's an unnecessary request, for everyone is letting you and Jeongguk indulge in privacy—or as much as they can when you're in the same room. They just haven't seen this smile on Jeongguk's face in a long time, and nor has Danbi seen a similar one on yours for just as long. It'd be cruel to tear you apart.

"I am," he promises, his eyes glittering with sincerity. Or maybe just with reflections of you. It's hard to tell. "You're the one touching me up."

"Oh, so I can't even touch my boyfriend, now?"

Jeongguk hasn't thought about dying in a little while. Maybe, like, a whole 6 hours. One little acknowledgement of precisely who he is to you? Oh, call the funeral directors. Get Yoongi crafting a casket. He's done for.

"Do you think they'll notice if we go to my room?"

"Yes."

"But—"

"No," you laugh, prizing the bottle from his grasp to take a sip. "I told you to behave."

"I am," he insists, a slight pout on his pretty pink lips. You shake your head, passing him back the bottle, of which is instantly pressed to those lips of his you love so much.

It doesn't take much for his insatiability to rub off on you. The glisten of a little alcohol on his lips, and the way his eyes are so soft despite the stern look he gives you, just gets your tummy feeling all funny. His lips press in on themselves as if he's giving serious consideration to the situation.

Squeezing his thigh, you shrug. Give him a look that his brain instantly translates as trouble—and then his tummy is feeling all funny, too.

"Be a good boy for me tonight and I'll show you how much I appreciate it when we get home," you quietly assure him.

He sinks into the chair like a deflating balloon. Groans. Whines. "B."

"What?" You giggle, as if you don't know exactly which buttons to press. "You gonna behave for me?"

"I'm gonna die," he says. "That's what I'll do, and it'll be all your fault."

"Please don't," you say, then grimace. "I like my men alive."

"Plural?!"

"Stay alive and it'll be singular."

"Fine," he huffs, narrowing his eyes. Shakes his head. "Gonna be the death of me one day, babe."

So wrapped up in your own conversation, you don't notice the occasional glances that find their way to you.

There's not a single soul in that room who doesn't cast their eyes in the direction of you and Jeongguk at some point or another. Nonjudgmental. Kind. Quiet observations of a couple who are somehow both quiet in their affections and yet so abhorrent loud it's almost distasteful.

It's not that your PDA is excessive, or that your conversations are overly loud, or anything like that. It's just that people's eyes are naturally drawn to the brightest stars in the sky.

When Hoseok glances at you, and finds you both smiling in a way that wouldn't look out of place on a dental hygiene ad, he frowns. Isn't sure he's ever looked at anyone like that. Wonders if he ever will. Has had—and currently has—crushes so potent they lingered for months. Has had relationships that did the same. Yet he's seen the way you two amplify the very best of one another without reservation or competition and knows that it's special.

All of your friends know it. Most of them knew before you did.

It's a relief to see you together like this.

As much as Jimin likes to whine and moan about the pair of you, he wouldn't have it any other way.

But by the time he's drunk his bottle dry, he does decide he'd rather have the pair of you being insufferably sweet together in the darkened shadows of Dionysus.

"Not got long left to use your tab," he tells Jeongguk, as if Jeongguk is actually the one who uses it. "C'mon. Let's go."

"Y'know, me and B might just stay—"

"Nope," Jimin interrupts, and before Jeongguk's tipsy brain can react, Jimin's pinching his ear. Getting his own back. Pulling Jeongguk towards the door. "You too, DB. Off we go."

Casting a glance to Danbi to check she's coming too, you sigh. Roll your eyes with a smile.

All you want is to be alone with Jeongguk. It's not even the sex that you're wanting. Just him.

"If you dip after a drink or two, I won't tell him," Danbi whispers, letting go of Taehyung's hand and looping her arm around your waist instead. You reciprocate, glad to be with the people you adore the most in the world.

By the time you're out of the apartment, you're perplexed to see Jeongguk and Jimin both pinching one another's ears. Waiting by the elevator doors, neither of them are enjoying it very much—but they're both very much enjoying the discomfort they're causing one another.

"Toddlers," Yoongi mutters as they waddle into lift together.

The elevator isn't full, and you can all fit, but you need to walk some of the alcohol off. You know your friends and also know damn well that there's no such thing as 'one or two' drinks. You'll be getting starfuckers. That much is a given.

"Gonna take the stairs," you say without much thought.

Jeongguk drops his grip on Jimin instantly. Tugs away and reveals that he could have gotten away the whole time. He just likes being stupid with his friends.

"I'll come with," he offers, darting out of the elevator before it closes.

But like a bad smell he just can't get rid of, Jimin does the same exact thing.

While he loves you both, he absolutely does not trust either of you to actually make it to the club. Will chaperone you there himself even if it forces a detour out of him.

Beaming as if he can't see the scowl on Jeongguk's pretty little face, Jimin leads the way.

"C'mon, besties. Dionysus awaits us."

[seven-seas-of-rhye-bread]

Lucius Verus x F!OC (Cassia)- Part 2

They're baccckkkk! Still finishing the outline for the rest of "A Fate Worse Than Death", but still wanted to write something today, so here is another fic with Lucius and our fave thermae attendant, Cassia.

Warning: Smut smut smut-- pinv, oral (male receiving), fingering, angsty longing etc etc. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE!

Disclaimer: dont @ me with historical accuracies-- its not that I don't care, it's that my brain only has the capacity for smut when I'm in this kind of feral mood.

A/N: Yes, I know there's not really an ending, but the good stuff is there. My brain just stops after my characters cum, I can't help it, it's a PROBLEM.

Once again, very lightly proof-read, sorry xx

Cassia watched the moon rise over Rome sitting on the steps of the thermae portico, another day come and gone. It had been another busy one as Roman citizens were feeling a sense of renewed hope for the future, eager to discuss the future of the city with one another within the walls of the baths. The city had been buzzing since the rightful emperor Lucius took the throne, stories spreading about the gladiator-turned-emperor.

Cassia had listened to Alba in disbelief, in their small shared room one night, as she relayed the fantastical stories she heard in the marketplace earlier that day. The gladiator champion-- yes, Hanno-- was Lucilla's lost son, rightful heir to the empire. Cassia had laughed at Alba's tale, she couldn't believe such a rumor, her friend must have misheard. But as the days and weeks passed, it was confirmed time and time again by bathers, and by the fact that Hanno had not returned to the thermae. She had slept with a Roman emperor-- no one would believe her if she told, except Alba-- who had blushed bright pink with excitement when Cassia regaled her with the story. 

And now Alba waved as she crossed the courtyard towards their living quarters, her silhouette illuminated against the fading lamp light. Cassia was about to get up and follow Alba when she saw their master, Italus, walking at a furious pace towards her.

He wasn't exactly kind, but he wasn't cruel like other masters in the city, as long as she did her job well, he let her be, so the look on his face was cause for concern. 

"Italus, good evening.." she said standing up to greet him, hoping that a civil start to the conversation would be heeded.

"Who do you know in the palace?" he demanded, his brow furrowed. 

"What do you mean?" Cassia asked-- she had never set foot on Palatine hill, how would she know someone in the palace?

 "I've received a summons for you from the palace! There is a guard here ready to escort you."

Cassia was at a loss, she never rubbed shoulders with elites, especially anyone residing in the palace. But it was then she realized it could only be Hanno-- or Lucius, now, she supposed. She kept quiet though, not wanting to divulge her history with the new emperor. 

"It.. must be a mistake, how would I know someone there?"

She could tell Italus was suspicious, but she knew that he could not reject a request from the palace-- even if it was a mistake.

 As he turned away hastily, he shouted back to her "Go change.. I don't need you embarrassing me in front of whoever has summoned you."  Cassia did change, with help from Alba, into her nicest tunic, in a deep saffron shade. Alba quickly brushed Cassia's hair and pinched her cheeks, bringing the slightest flush to them. She hurried to the main entrance where a guard was waiting next to a carriage. He said not a word but helped her in.

Cassia's stomach and mind turned the whole way there. When Hanno-- Lucius-- left the thermae for the last time, he had kissed her gently and taken a moment to just be in her grasp. She hadn't known at the time that he was only a day or two away from changing the future of the Roman empire.

It seemed so simple, a gladiator and a bathhouse servant, it was certainly nothing new, but she saw everything in a different light now. He was no longer more or less equal to her-- he was an emperor. He surely had everything-- and everyone- at his disposal now, but he still wanted her. Cassia wished her heart didn't swell with hope at this thought-- this was a whole other beast itself. She never wanted to be a concubine, never wanted to be at the beck and call of a man-- but was this now her fate? She was, after all, answering his call. 

The carriage came to a stop at the front of the palace, where she was helped out and led to the complex of grand buildings that made up the imperial palace. The servant who met her at an imposing archway led her through halls and rooms of unspeakable magnificence. Cassia had to remind herself, she was not here to admire the frescoes and mosaic floors. They arrived outside a set of doors, the servant opening one and motioned for her to enter.

Cassia could feel her heart pounding as she stepped across the threshold into a room, lit with countless lamps that reflected against the gold leaf that seemed to adorn every corner, but she didn't take note of any further details, as her eyes trained on him, standing by the entrance to a courtyard. 

She stood still near the door, not sure what she should do in the presence of an emperor. A radiant smile flashed across his face, as if she had materialized from the heavens. 

"You're here" he declared with satisfaction and what Cassia noted was a hint of relief. 

" I don't think I had a choice." she said quietly, still standing in the same spot.

His face fell with confusion, "why do you say that?"

"Refusing a summons from the palace isn't something one does." she explained, her heart full of so many different emotions-- wariness, apprehension, happiness at seeing him again-- unsure of how to act around him, now that he was emperor. 

Lucius walked towards her then. He looked like the same man she had known at the thermae, except dressed in vibrantly embroidered tunic and no longer covered in bruises and blood. 

"You came here... out of obligation?" he asked, an edge of disappointment in his voice.

He was standing near, but kept his distance from Cassia. She was honest with him, "Not only out of obligation."

A hint of a smile flashed across his face, and Cassia couldn't help but smile to herself. 

"What am I to call you now?" she asked, the knot in her stomach loosening in his presence.

 He gave another small smile, " whatever you want to call me."

She took a step towards him, "Caesar?... Imperator?...Hanno...?"

He laughed heartily at this last one, "you can call me Lucius."

Lucius stepped closer to Cassia and grabbed her hand, "I'm glad you came.. I had wanted to call on you sooner, but I wasn't sure if I should."

She felt comfort in the fact that he was also apprehensive, aware of each of their statuses in this world now.

"And why did you call me here?" she ran her fingers through his hair, a move he leaned into with eyes closed, "I don't think you need a bath..."

He gave a laugh and pulled her in close, his eyes searching hers, before he whispered, "you know why..."

Lucius met her lips with a sigh that stirred something in Cassia. She could feel relief in his kiss, and urgency to be as close to her as he could. His tongue brushed her lower lip and she met him with her own. Cassia kissed him as if it was the last time she would ever kiss him, or anyone, for that matter-- with a hunger, a desire to feel everything with Lucius so intensely that it would be burned into her memory forever. 

He pulled away reluctantly and led Cassia to the lavish bed that was centered just so that the moonlight shown on it through the open courtyard. Lucius pulled her in once more, untying the belted knot at her waist before turning Cassia around so her back was against his chest.

She could feel his cock, already fully hard and she hadn't even touched him yet. Lifting the fabric of her tunic, his hands, still calloused and rough from fighting, found her core.

He made slow circles around her clit, leaning into the rhythms that made her moan. Cassia grasped at him behind her, as he placed bites down her neck and collarbone. He slipped two fingers in her and pumped them in and out slowly. 

"You're already so wet for me..." he growled in her ear and retreated from within her.

 "Lucius..." Cassia breathed, her nails now digging into the side of his neck. She felt weak with pleasure, resting herself against his body.

Cassia grasped his hand as he pulled back from under her tunic, taking his fingers, still slick with her, into her own mouth. She hummed as she sucked herself off his fingers. She could hear a throaty groan from Lucius at her action and she turned back around to face him.

His mouth crashed into hers, desperate to taste what was left of her wetness. Cassia grasped at his elaborate tunic, helping him to pull the weighty fabric up and over his head.

She took a step back, pulling off her own tunic before casting a glance at his body. He might be emperor now, but he was riddled with scars-- some old, some newer, still healing. Cassia passed light fingers over his arms, feeling the taut, warm muscles, then moving her hands over his shoulders and chest.

Lucius's eyes fluttered closed, relaxing deeply at her touch. She felt along his cock with the lightest touch, feeling it twitch at the feather light feel. 

He kept his eyes closed, he breathed, " don't tease me.." 

She let her hand close around his shaft and replied, "I would never tease the emperor."

Cassia guided him back to sit on the bed while she got to her knees. Placing kisses and small bites up his strong thighs, she worked Lucius gently with her hand before taking his length into her mouth.

His cock was warm inside her mouth, filling her up to her throat, savoring the feeling and taste of him in her mouth. 

Cassia," he moaned, "Cassia, oh gods..."

 She pulled back, his cock making a pop as it left the velvety warmth of her mouth. Cassia sucked on the tip while stroking his shaft with one hand and gently massaging his weighty balls with her other.

Lucius grasped the back of her head, wrapping his hand around her hair and pulling gently. In a moment, he sat up on her elbows and looked down at her, his eyes heavy with lust, " I can't come until I have you."

She placed gentle kisses around the head of his cock, giving it one final suck before climbing on the bed. Lucius straddled her as soon as she lay back, spreading her legs open for him.

He held the tip of his cock against her cunt, rubbing it against her clit making Cassia squirm with pleasure underneath him. "Please, Lucius..." she moaned as she grasped her own breast, feeling the need to do something-- anything-- to feel pleasure. 

He dragged his cock up and down her cunt once more, gathering her wetness before he leaned down over her. Both of them stilled for a moment, simply looking into each other's eyes, their breathing was in unison now.

Lucius positioned his cock at her wet entrance and pushed in, slowly filling her up. Cassia felt her walls stretch with his length and thickness, breathing through the intensity of the stretch until he was fully in her.

He started slow and deep with his thrusts, eliciting a low moan into his ear, somehow making him even harder. He picked up his pace when she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into her as deep as he could go.

Lucius placed one leg up over his shoulder, burrowing even deeper into her. Cassia arched her back into him, her breathing becoming shallow and ragged. He could tell by the way her cunt clenched around his that she was going to come soon.

Cassia held onto his arms as he continued to fuck down into her, hearing her gasp his name as he felt her approach her orgasm. He followed soon after with his own climax, crying out as he collapsed on top of her.

"I'm crushing you, I'm sorry..." he said breathlessly, attempting to roll off of her but she stopped him.

"Don't... not yet," Lucius let himself rest back into her arms.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 7: Stuck In Wall

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7468

Warnings: Afab! Reader, master/servant dynamic, stuck in wall, age difference, dubcon, reader is a rabbit illuminated beast, vaginal fingering, bareback, no protection lol no gendered terms but he does call us “little one” because that is what I am personally weak for

A/N: alright so I definitely got a little carried away with this one but in my defense … in my defense Zhongli is my favorite character. I started playing specifically FOR him. So I think my bias was going to show no matter what 😂

⭐

Peering out from your hiding place behind a wide, red painted column, you secretly observe your lord and master while he sips his afternoon tea in the sprawling manor garden. The Lord of Geo is a sight to behold even when at ease, and you can’t quite seem to decide what it was you were feeling flitter about inside your chest when you looked at him. Was it excitement, pure and headstrong adrenaline at the prospect of challenging him in the way the young test themselves against the old? Or was it something more personal and intimate — a crush, you’d heard human adolescents call it before. This strange feeling wasn’t exactly new but it was still as much of an unknown as it had been the first time you’d realized Morax was the cause of it. 

You think you’re just eager to try out what you’ve learned since the last time you came here and sparred with him though. Had even spent some time with the five Yaksha between then and now, most notably with Alatus who had (begrudgingly) helped you work on your speed. Bonanus had even teased you about biting off more than you could chew when you’d told her why you were so keen on training like this, but she didn’t understand. None of them did. For as much as you looked up to and admired the Yaksha for their strength and commitment to Morax’s nation, nothing was held in quite so high regard as earning his approval the same way they had. 

All you wanted was to prove yourself to him. To be looked at with the same fondness and mutual respect that he gave the others rather than the doting, indulgent smiles he always gave you. It was undeniably frustrating, the way he never seemed to take you seriously. It wasn’t your fault you were a bit too young to have stood beside him during the Archon War but you were determined to win his favor no matter the cost. 

So you very quietly sneak out into the open, recalling what Alatus had told you about the importance of concealing your presence until you were ready to actually deliver the killing blow. Not that you were trying to kill him or anything — as if you even could. But considering that all of your previous encounters with the Geo Archon had ended in resounding failure, with you slinking off with your tail tucked between your legs and licking your wounds, it seemed like it was worth a shot. Somehow, you’d almost managed to convince yourself that sneaking up on him instead of clashing head on would net you a different result. 

But of course it is not meant to be, and you barely make it within twenty feet of the powerful god when the earth abruptly shudders and gives way, exploding outward from the force of a glowing geo construct erupting out of nothing. You give a startled jerk and immediately fall into a defensive crouch, but they just keep appearing around you; one by one, tall, imposing monoliths springing up out of the ground to entrap you where you stood. 

Realizing you have fallen for a trap and Alatus’ advice was no good against someone like the Lord of Geo, you make a hasty attempt to escape. Try to utilize his training to your advantage even though it’s done you little good up til’ now, but you don’t make it very far. 

You’re hyper aware of the moment that a construct of Morax’s making bursts up underneath you, shooting right towards your middle. You lurch, too surprised to even breathe as you see it spearing straight through you and up into the very heavens themselves. For a split second you actually think he’s going to kill you — but to your great surprise it suddenly splits down the middle and branches off into two separate halves that fly up past you only to reconvene and become one at the top. 

It’s like you’re watching it all happen in slow motion, painfully aware of what’s happening as it seals around you and stops your momentum mid fall. You jerk to a sudden, screeching halt that rattles your teeth, and you suck in a harsh gasp that seems to tear at your throat. You’re stuck. Just like that. In the blink of an eye you’ve been left dangling there, trapped inside the unrelenting prison of one of his geo spires, and you had no way out. 

You’re still desperately clawing and kicking at the solid stone when he steps up beside you, long dark robes swaying softly as he comes into view. You go stock still, heart hammering wildly inside your chest even as you bring your head up to look at him. To your gobsmacked, stuttering surprise, he was smiling at you. 

“M - m - my lord!” 

“Hello, little one. I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you here today. A very grumpy bird told me you’ve been training with the Yaksha recently and I assumed that would continue to take up a significant amount of your time for at least a while longer.” 

Heat floods your face in a sudden rush that leaves you sputtering, trying to work out what to say to that. Dammit, Alatus! He wasn’t supposed to go behind your back and tell Morax what you’ve been doing! No wonder his advice hadn’t worked. 

“Forgive me, master.” You finally manage to say. “It was not my intention to displease you. I only wanted to - -“ 

“Oh, I’m well aware what it is you wanted. My attention, isn’t that right?” He tips his head to one side, ever so, his expression still serene and gentle, but that doesn’t stop you from flushing even hotter than before. Quickly, you avert your gaze and try not to look so guilty even though that seemed to be a losing battle in this situation. You felt so stupid, and all the more when Morax draws a patient breath at your continued silence. “Honestly, I'm a little surprised with you. I didn’t take you for the sort to sneak around like that. At first I assumed you were merely working up the courage to come over and ask to spar with me, but that was not the case … was it?” 

You sorely wished you could wither away, right then and there, but the unrelenting geo construct made it impossible to even turn from him and hide your shame, let alone beat a hasty retreat. “No, master. It wasn’t.” 

“Then why?” 

His gloved fingers suddenly brush your chin and you jolt, choking on a very unbecoming squawk of surprise as he tips your face up. Left with no choice but to look at him, you make a desperate attempt to school your expression and hide your fluster from the piercing intensity of his gaze only to fail miserably on all fronts. You couldn’t even remember a time you’d embarrassed yourself so badly in front of him. 

“W - well, I just — I thought …” You trail off in uncertainty, but he just nudges your chin with a soft little hum of encouragement. Whimpering faintly, you squeeze your eyes shut so you won’t have to see him looking at you, patient and expectant, while you’re forced to admit to your wrongdoings. “I’m sorry, master! I thought if I took you by surprise I might fare better this time. Alatus said - -“

“Alatus?” Morax’s fingers abruptly slip away. Blinking back the sting of humiliated tears, you cautiously glance up to find him lost in his own thoughts and a tiny little spark of hope flares to life inside you. Perhaps he would let you go and direct his displeasure at the one who had given you that bad advice in the first place! 

“I see,” He says at last. “I wouldn’t say he was necessarily wrong to tell you that. Given your size and strength, it certainly does make sense to rely on concealment when approaching a potential threat. However,” The deep timber inflected in just that one word sends shivers racing down your spine as much as the hard edge in his golden eyes does. “You had to have known such tricks would not work against me, little one, and I very much doubt Alatus intended for you to utilize that particular strategy in such a way. If I was so easily taken by surprise then surely I would not be standing before you as I am now, would I? Frankly, I'm not sure if I find your underestimation of me cute or insulting.” 

Your chest wrenches violently at that. “No … no, no, I'm sorry, master! Please don’t be displeased with me, I didn’t mean to offend you! I would never! I promise!” 

Evidently unmoved by your pleas, Morax makes a casual show of folding his arms behind his back before shifting into motion. Slowly, he walks around the side of the monolith he’d conjured to trap you where he disappears from your line of sight. Even trying to twist around is useless and all you can make out is the hard column of stone and a thin, sideways glimpse of the lush garden foliage. You squirm and brace your hands on the faintly glowing rock, making an attempt to wriggle your way out, but then he appears on the other side and you go still again. 

You realize, in a far off, distant kind of way, that he’s circling you like a predator and with that knowledge comes a silent reminder of who he is. What he is. You’d never been lucky or privileged enough to see Morax in his truest form, nor had you ever caught so much as a glimpse of it until now, but you’d heard tales of it. Whispers of his magnificent size and strength. How he was just as big, if not bigger, than most of the gods he fought in the war and equally deadly too. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that the kind and gentle individual before you now, with his doting smiles and easy company, was in fact hiding a beast under that disarming facade. A monstrous dragon. 

And you, little more than a rabbit, were trapped in his lethal claws. 

“You must forgive my mood today. It isn’t exactly that I am unhappy with you, or Alatus for that matter.” He says quietly. Much too quietly to do anything except further rattle your nerves and make you more anxious. “But I think there is something to be said for these times of peace, don’t you? Not only do the years wear away at the memory of the people but even my beloved adepti too, and it seems that everyone is slowly forgetting what this land looked like not that long ago.” 

Pausing in front of you, Morax sends you a slow, unreadable look of consideration. 

“The same cannot be said of me though. I can’t forget it. I won’t forget.” 

With that, he resumes his pacing around the monolith and you just hang there, having no choice but to attentively listen in even when you want nothing more than to crawl inside a hole and bury yourself alive. 

“I’ve not faced a real challenge in many, many centuries now,” He continues, sedate and almost leisurely. “Most save a select few don’t even bother to spar with me now, whether because they hold me in too high regard to even take up their weapons or because they already know what the outcome will be. I must confess though, I miss it sometimes. That is why I have enjoyed our little sessions so much. Even if you cannot truly stand against me, it was still nice … refreshing to see someone standing on the side of opposition with neither hesitation nor reverence on their face. You just wanted to prove yourself, isn’t that right,” His hand abruptly caresses over your leg, starting at the knee and trailing a sensuous path up the back of your thigh, over your buttocks and higher still to finally flick at your small, curved tail. “My helpless rabbit?” 

Yelping and blushing profusely, you quickly slap your hands over your mouth to stop yourself from making any further noise. You had no idea what was happening, what he was talking about, and you knew even less how you felt about any of it. Your heart slams a wild, continuous beat against your chest, feeling like it was likely to explode out of you at any given moment, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or … excitement? 

Either oblivious or unconcerned with your current predicament, Morax just keeps pacing around you at a steady canter. “That is also why I’m so disappointed in your behavior today. I thought you were better than that. I expected better from you than that. Using such strategy against a lesser foe would have been another matter entirely but me?” He barks a quick, mirthless laugh that seems to set your guts to vibrate. “The only ones foolish enough to use such a shameless tactic against me in the Archon War were beings so far beneath my concern that I didn’t even bother learning their name before I destroyed them. Any warrior with even an ounce of pride would never stoop to such a low, for both his own integrity as well as that of his opponents. Is it possible that I have been much too lenient with you?” 

You suck in such a sharp, painful breath that it claws at your throat on the way down. “Master, please! That’s not it at all! I - I just thought … I thought you would be impressed with me if I could implement what I learned from the Yaksha and show you I’m serious. I d - didn’t …” 

You trail off, not sure what else to say to defend yourself or your actions, and Morax halts in front of you again. Eyeing you for a moment longer, he finally reaches up to touch fingers to his chin in thought. “You were still small during the war, weren’t you? Only just ascended, if I remember correctly.” You give a miserable little nod, prompting him to slowly exhale through his nose. “I see. It’s not that you’ve forgotten, nor did you intentionally mean any disrespect. It’s just that you don’t know any better. All you’ve ever truly lived is peace, so a warrior's sense of pride is likely just some fanciful concept rather than a tangible thing to you. Still, there is something … a part of me doesn’t want to let it go even knowing this. I want — no, I need to show you that I am not someone such petty tricks will work on.” 

“Wha - -“ 

His hand is suddenly under your chin again, nudging you to look up even as he bends close to put his face in yours. Veins turning to ice, you just stare at him in speechless disbelief. If you could have backed up at that moment you would have gone skittering in the opposite direction, but the geo construct keeps you rooted to the spot. All you can do is take it when he carefully curls those long, blocky fingers over your jaw and gives them a brief squeeze to make you wince. It was only a very small fraction of his power, you knew this, but you still issue a quiet whimper anyway, more from your bruised ego than any physical pain he was causing you. 

“Do not misunderstand, little one. You are young and naive, while I am willing to forgive and as patient as the tallest mountain.” Morax intones, his voice dropped to such a low register it almost seems to carry with it a … growl. “But I am also still the Archon of this land. It is my duty to soundly guide all who inhabit Liyue, whether they be human or adepti, and that very much includes you. Forgive me for saying so, but I think it’s high time I teach you an important lesson. One that appears to be long overdue.” 

“… my lord?” It’s barely more than a whisper. 

“Oh, don’t look at me with such fear in your eyes.” Cooing softly, Morax releases your jaw in favor of reaching up to carefully brush some of the hair back from your face. Just like that, his mood seems to have returned to the calm you were used to and it only leaves you even more unnerved. Confused to see him acting like this. But if he notices any of the disconcert in your expression he doesn’t acknowledge it, instead dragging his hand lower to tenderly cup your cheek in his gloved palm. “I have no intention of harming you today, nor do I wish to scare you. But I think it’s important for you to understand what I am.”

You swallow your nerves. Almost choke on them. “What are you?” You prod, wanting to hear him say it out loud with his own voice, in his own words. 

With a slow, almost unsettling blink of his eyes, Morax puts his head to one side. “A very territorial god.” 

The shudder that tears through you is so powerful it leaves you outright gasping in shock. He merely smiles though, that same soft, vague smile he usually wears, except … there’s an edge in the gilted amber of his eyes that makes you run hot. Hotter than any bath or spring, or teakettle, and you can’t quite seem to get your breathing under control now as he straightens up, letting his hand fall away, and then moves to step behind you again. 

Panicking, you slap your clammy palms against the lower half of the geo construct and desperately try to find some amount of leverage you could use to shimmy free but it is resoundingly useless. His control over the element was so great, so fine tuned and honed that there was barely even a seam between your midsection and the cool stone you were imprisoned in. You’d never be able to squeeze your hips through such a narrow opening, nor your shoulders — not without dislocating them and causing irreparable damage in the process. The reality of that truth slams into you mere seconds before you feel his fingers brush against your tiny tail again, and you can’t quite stop yourself from letting out a frightened squeak. 

“Now, now,” He chides, a heavy note of laughter dancing in his voice. “You needn’t rile yourself so. I already told you I’ll be gentle … but there are things you need to understand about this world. The way you came here today was so lacking in manners and propriety that you’ve struck an old chord in me, I’m afraid. But I won’t treat you as I did those who tried such petty, simple tricks in the past,” His hand abandons your twitching tail in favor of skimming down lower to pet over the seat of your form-fitted shorts, startling another gasp out of you at the static jolts that race through your body. “But I think we can come up with an appropriate substitute that will get the point across just as well. I will show you what it truly means to bend the knee to a god and impart upon you the significance of not underestimating one’s elders.” 

Your mouth drops open in shock but nothing comes out, every single hair on your body immediately standing on end. The thought that this was really happening seemed so distant, so implausible, that you almost don’t even believe it. Morax had never touched you like this, usually much too polite and proud to lay hands on you (or anyone, for that matter) more than what was strictly necessary, but he doesn’t hesitate to do it now. The glide of his fingers along the seam of your cunt is sure and confident, like he’s done this a million times before. 

The weight of it slams into you all at once and you finally give a delayed little jerk as your stomach violently seizes. “M - master! Thats - -“ 

“Mine, is it not?” 

You go stock still, halfway through the motion of trying to push against the stone again. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be serious. “I … I don't understand.” 

With a soft, vaguely condescending click of his tongue, Morax adjusts his hand to rub over the apex of your slit with a greater sense of purpose to make you twitch and seethe through your teeth. “Which is precisely why I would be remiss not to educate you, little one. You have truly lived a largely comfortable life and you do not grasp what would be apparent to you had you endured any of the hardships of the past. Respect, decorum, integrity … these are not just words without meaning. You must learn to maintain these principles even in your youth, or you won’t live to see the same old age I enjoy.” 

Biting down on your bottom lip to stifle the embarrassing sounds trying to slip out, you frantically turn that over in your head. It was exceedingly hard to do when he was caressing you like that, gradually coaxing your body to bend to his will which it does with a horrifying lack of compulsion, but you desperately wanted to figure out what had set him off and why he was acting this way. You wanted to understand him … easier said than done, of course, when he always spoke in such a complicated and enigmatic manner. Yet a thought starts to slowly dawn on you, alighting inside your mind like the morning sun appearing over the horizon. 

Was it possible that the lesson he wanted you to take from this boiled down to something as simple as a reestablishment of his dominance? Had you really stoked the mighty dragon in him enough that he now felt compelled to dominate you like he would any lesser foe who dared to disrespect his position and authority? He said you’d approached him without respect … had opined about the past and how he missed partaking in true battles, establishing his own superiority over others with fists rather than words. Said he’d enjoyed your sparring matches because of the way you’d looked at him with neither awe or reverence — but by sneaking around like an assassin you’d overstepped that understanding between you and your lord? 

A sudden groan bursts out of you when your pussy eagerly flutters against the ministration of his hand, growing wet for him, and it quickly becomes that much harder for you to concentrate. But you frantically try to hold onto that string of thought, panting slightly where you hang from the geo construct. It felt like you were right on the brink of a solid idea … an epiphany. 

You almost write it off completely when it finally comes to you, so absurd and implausible at first glance. But the longer he pets your cunt with sure, steady motions of his hand, as if he already knew exactly how to toy with you, the more you found yourself faltering. Could it really be that you had simply offended his greater sense of pride, his monstrous instincts, by suggesting (intentionally or not) that you didn’t consider him worth the effort of meeting face to face in the sparring ring anymore? 

It’s not lost on you that Morax was well within his right to do as he pleased, however he so pleased, and he normally chose kind smiles, a soft hand to guide, friendly company and the grace to only show you a very small fraction of his great strength. The goodwill to let you think you ever stood any kind of fighting chance against him if you just trained enough, just stuck with it long enough. But now it seemed he was set on reminding you of your place in his world, bring you to heel, and let it be known in no uncertain terms where you stood. He had been nothing but tenderhearted and indulgent towards you until now, doting the way a father figure would be. Infinitely lenient, or so it had seemed. 

That was not who was standing behind you any longer though. He’d been replaced by a king, a war general, a fierce draconian lord. Someone who took without asking and who claimed what was his by right, and that very much included you and your body, evidently. 

Sucking in a sharp, wavering breath, you abruptly snap back into the moment when you feel him pinch at your clit through the thin fabric of your pants to get your attention again. His motions are self assured and confident as he gently teases the sensitive nub with a slow, rolling motion of his fingers before squarely pressing down on it. Your legs weakly kick out behind you at a series of awkward angles, torn between either balancing the distribution of your weight so there wasn’t quite so much pressure on your middle where the stone was holding you up or trying to close your thighs and keep him out. The latter was useless though. You were completely defenseless like this without even the privilege of being able to twist away, and you soon realize all you can do is accept your fate. 

So you hang there, whimpering softly as he grinds mean little circles into your clit. He doesn’t stop until your hips start to judder and buck against the stimulation, a startling amount of sticky slick already bleeding into the fabric plastered to your cunt. You can’t help groaning in frazzled disappointment when he finally withdraws his hand some moments later, leaving your body thrumming with unspent kinetic energy, but he’s quick to smooth his hand over the curve of your ass and give it a brief, reassuring squeeze. 

“There. That’s better isn’t it?” He rumbles behind you, that same hint of amusement making you tremble again. “Rest assured, little one. I will not be unfair or cruel to you. I’ll make sure this is as pleasant for you as myself, but I trust my greater intention will not be lost either. This is a symbolic act, so do pay attention.”

“M - master —!” Your voice warbles and catches, breaking off with a stilted little gasp when Morax redirects his hand to grasp at the material and tug at it. It takes him a prolonged beat to inch it down enough, between all your squirming and the position he’s got you stuck in, trapped within one of his monoliths, but soon he can slip his fingers inside the waist. Tugging your shorts down, pausing to untangle them from your twisting legs, he finally gets them pulled over your ankles and tossed aside. 

You’re left naked from the waist down with only your socks and shoes allotted to you, and you’d never felt more exposed or vulnerable in all your life. Try as you might, you just couldn’t seem to find enough leverage to curl your legs up and it has you awkwardly writhing against either side of the stone spire. No matter what you do though you can still feel the waft of cool, pristine air against your bared cunt and, much to your mounting horror, even the clenched pucker of your ass. You were completely on display like this. He could see everything — and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it! 

Was this how helpless his enemies had felt against him in the past? How weak, pathetic and unequivocally at his mercy they’d been? 

“My,” He seems to pur, gently touching a fingertip to the meat of your cunt to make you jolt. “What a sweet little thing you are. Already so wet for me … I’m flattered.” 

You momentarily forget how to breathe when he spreads your lips with a deliberate, savory slowness, and lets out a quiet huff at what he sees. Flushed so hot you think you might just pass out from the sharp, debilitating stabs of humiliation that slice into you, your hands blindly reach down to brace against the lower half of the construct and lift your weight up off your stomach a bit. You couldn’t process this. Couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that he was not only touching you but even looking right at your most intimate of spots, completely unheeded.  

The sting of burning, deeply embarrassed tears floods your eyes and you whimper, mewling a plaintive plea as he idly draws smooth, glove encased fingers through folds and petal-soft creases to further spread your slick around. Emphasizing how copious it is, and how very sticky you were. You try to brace yourself for what will come next — unsure what that would be, exactly, but knowing in some primal, animal part of your brain that your trial was far from over — but it still shocks you a great deal when Morax finds your entrance and applies just enough pressure to dip a finger inside. 

Your whole body jerks with the sensation of him reaching into you, the sinuously smooth texture of his glove slipping and sliding indecently against your guts. Even when your pussy squeezes around the unexpected intrusion, even when your body aches in protest at being suddenly stretched, it does nothing to stop him from gliding in straight down to the knuckle. Heaving a gutted little noise, you lurch and almost lose your hold on the geo construct. 

“Oh!” 

“A tight fit.” He murmurs, more to himself than you. Which is good, because your head is spinning so fast you really aren’t confident in your ability to respond coherently right now. “I suppose I will have to take the time to properly prepare you first, then … I don’t think you’ll be able to take me like this.” 

Take him? 

The powerful god behind you doesn’t give you a chance to linger on that thought, gradually withdrawing his finger and then pushing back in to send you scrabbling at the surface of the stone. Slow and steady, he takes his time massaging along your inner sleeve with a level of patience you’d long since come to recognize in him but it drives you absolutely insane in this situation. Your pussy thrums eagerly around him, already so keen and sensitized from his earlier petting that it doesn’t take long at all for you to start feeling the muscles lock up in vibrating tension. Seething through your teeth, you try once again to bring your legs up even if only to brace against the sensation wracking through your lower body, but it’s futile. All you do is uselessly squirm in place, hips bucking slightly every time he reaches deep inside you. 

But then — you choke on a haggard, frantic sound when he introduces a second finger to your soaked cunt, sliding in just as easily as before but the stretch was so much more intense this time that your eyes start to roll back. Hissing through your teeth, you can do nothing but endure it while he takes a moment to rub along your interior, caressing over every bump and ridge as if in careful consideration before he finally angles his fingertips down. Down. He curls them, crooks them in a come hither motion, and presses right into something that makes your heart catch in your throat. You start to wheeze, gasping and choking on the blinding pressure as he teases that spongy spot for a just moment and then sedately jabs into it again. Once, twice, and on the third time you shatter, falling into uncontrollable tremors while you wail in distress. 

But no matter how hard you shake or judder your hips, he just keeps moving his fingers. Alternating between teasing at that insidious nerve cluster and casually working those long digits in and out of you at a tortuously slow, stilted pace. In a matter of moments he seems to milk your orgasm for everything it’s worth, leaving your cunt soft and pliant around the intrusion, and then immediately starts to build into the next. Your sensitive, post-climax twitching is very quickly replaced by the eager, needy roll of your shaking hips as you instinctively grind back on him, seeking out more like you were already addicted to it. 

Your cheeks burn in excitement and shame alike, and another faltering groan slips out of you, unbidden, when you realize how stiff your nipples have become under your shirt. They seem to jut out in stiff, fine points, as if seeking out that same source of friction your cunt was getting, and that only humiliates you even further. You’d never felt like this before. Never known your body to turn on you so completely that your tits felt heavy with arousal where they were swaying softly each time you moved, nor had your pussy ever been so very responsive … either Morax was a very talented individual when it came to stroking another’s body to vibrating fever pitch or you were far weaker for him than you’d first thought. 

Somehow you got the feeling it was a potent combination of the two. You also can’t quite shake the sense of being even more outmatched against him in this situation than you ever were in any of your martial sparring bouts, and that was certainly saying something. 

“Master, p - please! I can’t take it …” You finally manage to hiss. 

“Oh? Are you going to cum again already, my sweet little rabbit?” 

Involuntarily, your pussy clamps down on his fingers hard, and he issues a low chuckle in response, still sedately fucking into your body at the same unhurried pace. It was like he had all the time in the world to do this, and he probably did. You can’t help but grimace at the sticky clicks and wet little slurps coming from the other side of the spire, as embarrassed that your cunt was making those kinds of noises as you were about Morax being the one to not only cause them but that he was hearing them too. That shame does very little to dissuade your arousal though and it seems like you’re wildly shaking again in just a matter of moments, your jaw clenched so tight it actually hurts. It was too much. 

“My, this is a surprise.” He says over your high pitched, sensitive bleating. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so easily brought to climax, and in such a short amount of time too … perhaps I should retrieve a bucket to put under you if you’re going to keep cumming like this?” 

You let out a long, keening groan as the tremors in your body finally start to ebb and fade but he merely chuckles at your reaction, clearly finding humor in it. If you’d been in any position to do so, you probably would have found the whole thing rather funny too. After all, it wasn’t every day one was able to witness the Lord of Geo laying claim to one of his Adepti with such ease and agility. 

Distantly, you’re aware of him shifting behind you moments before his fingers pull out with a wet pop that leaves you shuddering anew while your pussy weakly squeezes around something that was no longer there. You try to catch your breath in that moment, having no idea how long it would last, but your body is so high strung and sore, a lingering ache settling deep within you in the aftermath of being stretched open, that you can’t seem to calm yourself. 

“Master, please,” You beg, still wheezing harshly. “I did not mean to upset you … I only wanted to show you what I learned from the Yaksha, I swear it! I wouldn’t ever — ahhn!” 

Your desperate pleas suddenly catch in your throat when you feel him brush against you, long robes fluttering around your bare, quaking thighs as something decidedly fleshy presses into you from behind. Warm and uncompromisingly rigid, it just touches your sticky labia and then pauses there, hovering. Waiting. The not so subtle threat has you wildly bucking against the stone structure, struggling just to breathe. You’d never wanted to turn and look at something so much in your entire life, but you can’t do that like this. Not with your front half dangling from one side of the construct while the lower - - 

His hands abruptly squeeze around your hips, holding you still, and you let out a frazzled, helpless little mewl when he nudges into you enough you can feel your cunt lips parting under the stilted pressure. Weakly kicking your legs in an attempt to find something you could brace against, even if it was just by the tips of your toes, proves utterly useless. You were a bit too high off the ground, evidently level with his hips, and it forces you to experience the slow press of his cock in startling high definition. 

You may not have been able to see it, but he felt big. Much bigger than you were prepared to take, and you loose a wild, high pitched squeal at the oppressive sensation of him poised and ready to lay claim to you. 

“Do you remember what I said, little one?” Drawing a brief, savory breath, Morax gives another, barely there push, and just sinks into the give of your entrance before stilling again. Not quite breaching you yet but positioned to follow through at any moment, giving you plenty of time to process the full weight of your impending domination. “This is a symbolic act, first and foremost. You are inexperienced in the ways of this world so it is my duty to teach you … tell me, then. Do you know what the lesson is?” 

It takes you a shamefully long moment to kickstart your brain enough to even realize he’s asked you a question. You were so overwhelmed by just his presence behind you, the impact of this innate claim he had on you and your body. For a long beat, you can’t even seem to find your voice. 

“… I — I don’t know. I’m not sure.” You finally manage to warble. 

“Hm? I don’t think I quite believe that. Why don’t you take a guess?” 

He nudges you again, tauntingly sinking forward as if to finally penetrate you at long last, but never quite following through on it. Your pussy thrums in nervous anticipation, and he sighs very softly when your body seems to suckle at the tip of him with each shuddering clench of vibrating muscle. Arms trembling slightly from the effort, you awkwardly readjust their slipping hold on the spire and try to think. You needed to say something, preferably something other than mindless, overwrought gibberish. 

“Is it that — you want me to feel what it’s like to be bested by you? To understand how weak I really am …?” 

“Oh, precious thing. It’s not that you are weak, nor is that what I want you to take away from this.” Gently, almost affectionately, Morax smooths over the skin across your hips with blunt thumbs as if to comfort you. “Rather, this is but a symbolic representation of what can happen if you underestimate your foes. Even your god is not quite as immune to territorial displays as he would like to be. It’s been a long, long time since someone last challenged me in earnest … and you’ve awakened the beast in me today by presenting yourself as one.” 

His strong fingers abruptly dig into you, hard enough to bruise, and you gasp at the pain. It is quickly overshadowed, however, by the sharp, splintering stretch of his tip pressing into you, forcing your guts to allow him entry one earth shuddering inch at a time. You abruptly understand then, realization lighting up within you in a far off, dreamy sort of way. This was a conquest. You’d been teasing the dragon in him this entire time — the way you looked at him, the way you challenged him and even the way you’d taken the word of one of his most loyal followers in a sea of many and tried to turn it back around on him. He wasn’t punishing you in the strictest sense, but giving in to his instinctive urge to dominate and claim. To quash opposition with his heavy fists and stand at the top, on his divine throne, where he rightfully belonged, to claim the spoils for himself and breed his powerful heirs. 

A hollowed out, gutted groan tumbles from your mouth as he enters you from behind, his cock so big and heavy inside you the stretch of it seems to reverberate deep in your bones. You can barely even breathe around it, the way it seems to punch the air right out of your lungs, leaving you clawing at the monolith like a trapped animal. A hare, in a hunters noose. Inch by staggering inch, it feels like he’s breaking you in half and all you can do is woundedly bleat into the otherwise still garden. Morax was not just taking you for himself in the physical sense, he was subjugating your body to his rock solid will like a tyrant. 

“My lesson to you is thus,” He growls, practically snarls behind you, as he sinks another tortuous fraction into your heaving guts. “Do not tempt fate and let sleeping gods lie. You never know what sort of mood they’ll wake up in.” 

Keening frantically now, you arch so hard against your stone prison you feel the strain of it in your spine. But his hold on your hips is as good as iron and your lower body is practically immobilized like this, save the uncontrollable shake of your legs. You hear him grunt behind you, very softly, and then give his cock a stilted little push that has him sinking in even deeper, so deep you can practically taste him on the back of your tongue. The way he stretches your cunt so completely, so oppressive with the weight of him behind you, in you, against you, seems to overwhelm all your senses at once, and it takes you a prolonged beat to realize when he’s stilled again.

Panting harshly, you hang there for a moment as if in suspended animation, just trying to process his heavy presence inside your body, and then it occurs to you … his strong, narrow hips are pressed flush against your upturned ass. Seated in you straight down to the hilt. Your cunt had never felt so full, so stuffed right to the breaking point before, and you wheeze like some broken, wounded little thing.  

“Hunger,” Morax intones, so abruptly it startles a low whine out of you. “For the flesh and blood of the illuminated beasts. Wrath, for those that dared disturb their slumber. Greed, to reclaim what was once theirs by any means necessary.” His fingers dig further into your hips and hold you in place as he carefully angles back just enough to drag at your guts. “Or, in some cases, you might even find yourself speared down the middle on a beastly cock that is much too big for your poor little body to take. You must tread carefully around the gods, little one. We are not quite as magnanimous as we may seem.” 

Nudging himself forward again, he sinks back into you as far as he can reach. Your pussy throbs around him, weakly contracts with a warning tremor that makes fresh tears spring up in your eyes. You know you’re riding a dangerous line, just hanging on the precipice of some great, gaping abyss, and you’re helpless to stop it as he settles into a mind numbingly stilted rhythm. He fucks you like he could do this for hours and never tire, like he has all the stamina in the world to put his mark on you at his own pace, on his own time. Morax is not in any hurry to rush this, and it is that slow, halting motion of his hips and the blinding stretch that comes with it that soon shoves you over the edge. 

You cum again, embarrassingly fast, but he doesn’t so much as pause to let you catch your breath. Just keeps fucking you even when you wail in overstimulated distress and dire urgency, your jolting legs slowly losing their strength until you have no choice but to let them dangle loose in the air while he ruts into you. You were exhausted. Completely spent. 

And Morax was not going to stop until he finished sating the draconic instinct to take whatsoever happened to catch his golden eye, even if that thing was but a helpless little rabbit.

⭐

Crossposted here

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Saheb, Bibi Aur Ghulaam

#1

For IPKKND’s 13th anniversary, hosted by the lovelies @arshifiesta

1903, Kolkata

Nandkisore sat by the ghats, watching the sun set on the Ganges. Devotees offered prayers while lovers sat in the ferries, gently bobbing from one end of the river bank to the other.

Not too many summers ago he had arrived, with barely a paisa in his pocket, and only a few local words that he had picked from fellow travellers.

“What were you thinking about sahab?” Mohan, his rickshaw puller, asked. Nandkisore chuckled at being referred as a sahab. It would take him some time to get used to that honorific. Granted, his patent for a new type of printer at the printing press gave him a financial security that his ancestors had never seen, but that couldn’t really make him a sahab.

Nandkisore pointed to the sprawling mansion across the river.

Sheesh Mahal

Owned by the richest zamindar in the city. By a true sahab - Arnav Mullick.

“Oh Maa! Did you know him? Were you both friends? Is that how you learned how to make money?” Mohan asked.

“No, Arnav sahab was my employer,” Nandkisore said. The formidable Arnav Mullick was nobody’s friend but his kindest, sweetest wife was the closest friend Nandkisore ever had.

And the only thing he learned in the godforsaken house was tragedy.

— — —

1897, Kolkata

The white marbles and mirrors of Sheesh Mahal made it stand like a diamond amidst the city. A step into the haveli and one would think another city lived inside it. Water fountains to an army of servant, Nandkisore hoped to find some employment within that army.

As a Punjabi lad he struggled to find meaning between all the Bengali words thrown left and right at him, but he was able to piece together what all the househelp agreed on.

Since he hadn’t seen the haveli in entirety yet, he must see the central courtyard! Chhote sahab, although strict, disposed the idea of servants not being allowed in certain areas or using separate cutlery.

Huh, it was surprising that in a house of two brothers it was the younger one that wielded more power.

But why would anyone be surprised? Given his progressive ideals that made him a favorite amongst the workers and a sore in the eye among other zamindars, London return Chhote sahab brought the financially wrought Mullick household into prosperity.

The househelp clearly favoured him, reciting some of his speeches as well. For those who blamed modernization and London as an influence for his liberalism, he laughed that studying the English and seeing the effects of their Industrial Revolution opened his eyes in ways one could never imagine.

So Nandkisore was eager to meet Chhote Sahab. But before that - a trip to the main courtyard. There were whispers of tapestry belonging from the Mughal eras, intricate woodwork that took countless hours and men to produce, ingenious architecture that illuminated the courtyard at all times of the day.

Except nothing caught Nandkisore’s eyes apart from the lady in red, sitting on a swing.

“That’s Choto boumaa,” one whispered.

Nandkisore reddened, for having admired the wife of Chhote Sahab. But there was a genuine goodness in her that radiated an aura of kindness, of childishness.

Little bells chimed in the air as the youngest bride of the house swung high, her alta stained feet adorned with heavy payals, a Jalebi in her hand.

None could ever look at her with an evil eye. She was a good person. He knew it. He believed in it.

The bahu nearly jumped off the swing when a babu appeared. Given the way he strode to her with two helpers who had a pile of gifts - sarees and jewleries - that must be Chhote Sahab!

Then why did a chill run up Nandkisore’s spine?

“Dada, you have no business gifting things to my vwife.” A man strode into the courtyard, his gait enough to frighten the babu’s two helpers.

Tall, sharp nosed and not a hair out of place. His eyes held an icy wrath that could shake the soul out of any ordinary man. Nandkisore knew that that man had to Chhote Sahab.

Then who was the other man? And why was he gifting Chhoto Boumaa?

A bile rose up in NK’s through as understanding dawned.

“A wife who spends all her time alone? Perhaps you and I aren’t that different Chhote,” The babu scoffed.

“If I find you, again, near my wife, then you can find yourself another home.” The young bride cowered behind her husband - clenching her saree in anxiety.

“ARNAV! HOW DARE YOU!”

“Keep your voice down Shyam Mullick, if it wasn’t for boudi’s plea then…”

Of course, the other babu was Barrister Shyam Mullick. The older son, the heir eclipsed by his younger brother.

Shyam threw the gifts aside and stormed off. Nandkisore breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God Chhote Sahab had arrived in time, if not then Chhoto Boumaa would have had to deal with the sleaze of a brother in law-

“Your greed has no end, does it?” She yelped, her arms in Arnav’s brutal grip.

“Na, na ami-” her soft pleas for mercy had no audience in him.

Nandkisore dropped a metal bowl and ducked, Arnav sprang apart from his wife and walked away, while the fragile woman picked up the fallen Jalebi from the floor to put it away.

Her eyes were full of tears, and Nandkisore rued on the fate she had. Her home had two men who abused her and she had nowhere to run.

He was thankful Chhote sahab didn’t see him drop the bowl.

He was careful to tiptoe away.

“Darao,” he halted at Chhoto Boumaa’s order. She studied his face for a moment.

“Shukriya,” she whispered.

“Oh no no, please Chhoti Malkin-”

“Call me Khushi please,”

— — —

A/N; finally!!! Here’s my little contribution to the festival! Enjoy enjoy and let me know your thoughts 😊

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Good morning, Spring. I am here with a Gaming request this morning Warning: Anti-Yun Jin, sort of. Please kindly consider this Gaming request: Basking in his newfound relationship with Yun Jin, Gaming completely forgets about his betrothal to you.

So, when he brings Yun Jin with him to Qiaoying Village to the Lantern Rite reunion festivities and to formally introduce her to the villagers as his girlfriend… absolute chaos: the village elders start screaming how dare he dishonor you. Yip Tak gives his son a stern look before asking if he had forgotten about his betrothal. In the midst of the chaos, you calmly cut into the increasingly loud argument by producing your family chop: a dragon seal carved from yellow jade. Silence instantly blankets over the venue as the village elders immediately recognize the jade chop and realize who you really are: the Family Head of the Gui Family. Ever since Liyue's founding, there had been Five First Families that laid Liyue's foundation with the Gui Family as the leader of the Five First Families. You tell Yip Tak that the Gui Family business contract with him will still go ahead and the betrothal contract can be easily transferred to Gaming's cousin who's working at Feiyun Commerce Guild as a bookkeeper. At this, Gaming panics. Throwing himself at your feet, he begs you to reconsider.

On the other hand, Yin Jin pales, remembering the Five First Families had been the Yun-Han Opera Troupe's main financial backing and now she's afraid that because of this insult, you'll pull all monetary support from the troupe. Please also kindly take as long as you need with this request; I have no qualms in waiting. Furthermore, by no means feel obligated to prioritize this request over your other requests.

Thank you for this request! I hope you enjoy it and that it meets your expectations🫶🏽🫶🏽

The Lantern Rite festival had always been a time of joy and celebration in Qiaoying Village, with its luminous lanterns casting a warm glow and festive atmosphere enveloping the village. Children ran through the streets with brightly colored paper lanterns, their laughter echoing through the night. The aroma of traditional foods—sweet lotus cakes, savory dumplings, and spicy noodles—filled the air, mingling with the scent of incense from the nearby temple. This year was no different, as villagers gathered to partake in the festivities, laughing and chatting, unaware of the storm that was about to unfold.

Gaming, basking in the glow of his new relationship with Yun Jin, felt a sense of excitement and anticipation bubbling within him. He was eager to introduce Yun Jin to the villagers, to share his happiness with the people he had grown up with. Her beauty and grace had captivated him, and he was confident that the villagers would share in his joy. Little did he know, his actions were about to set off a chain of events that would shake the very foundations of the village and challenge the bonds of family and honor.

As Gaming and Yun Jin made their way to the village square, the lanterns cast a soft, romantic glow around them, illuminating their path. Yun Jin, dressed in a flowing, elegant dress that shimmered in the lantern light, looked like a vision from a dream. Her delicate features and graceful movements drew the eyes of everyone they passed, and whispers of admiration followed in their wake. The villagers, initially smiling and welcoming, quickly turned their expressions to ones of shock and disapproval as they recognized the woman by Gaming's side. The village elders, in particular, were not pleased, their faces darkening with anger and disbelief.

"Gaming! How dare you dishonor your betrothal!" one of the elders shouted, his voice rising above the murmurs of the crowd. His eyes were wide with indignation, and the veins on his neck stood out as he pointed an accusatory finger at Gaming. The crowd fell silent for a moment, the weight of the elder's words sinking in.

Gaming looked taken aback, his eyes darting around the crowd in confusion. "Betrothal? What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice tinged with bewilderment. He glanced at Yun Jin, who looked equally confused and nervous, her grip tightening on his arm. The confusion on their faces only seemed to fuel the anger of the villagers.

Yip Tak, Gaming's father, stepped forward, his face stern and unyielding. His eyes bore into Gaming with a mixture of disappointment and anger. "Have you forgotten about your betrothal to her?" he said, pointing in your direction with a firm hand. His voice was steady, but the hurt was evident in his eyes.

You stood calmly amidst the growing chaos, your expression unreadable, but inside, your heart was breaking. The village square, once filled with laughter and celebration, was now a scene of confusion and anger. The villagers, torn between loyalty to their traditions and their affection for Gaming, began to argue among themselves, their voices rising in a cacophony of conflicting opinions. Some sided with Gaming, arguing that love should be free, while others insisted on the importance of honoring commitments and traditions.

Yun Jin, holding onto Gaming's arm, looked around nervously, her face pale. She had not anticipated such a reaction from the villagers. The whispers grew louder, and the elders' faces turned red with fury as they exchanged heated words with one another. The festive atmosphere had turned tense, the air heavy with the weight of the confrontation.

Yip Tak's voice cut through the chaos like a knife. "Gaming, this is not just about you. This is about our family's honor and the promises we have made," he said, his tone heavy with the weight of tradition and responsibility. His words carried the authority of generations, and the villagers fell silent, their eyes turning to Gaming for his response.

Gaming's mind raced, the weight of his father's words sinking in. He had been so wrapped up in his happiness with Yun Jin that he had completely forgotten about the betrothal arranged by his family. The realization hit him like a cold splash of water, and he felt a deep sense of guilt and dread settling in his chest.

You felt a sharp pain in your heart as you stood there, a witness to his obliviousness. You had always harbored feelings for Gaming, nurturing a quiet hope that someday he might see you as more than just a family obligation. But seeing him with Yun Jin was like a dagger to your heart. The reality of his love for someone else was more painful than you had ever imagined.

The argument was reaching a fever pitch, the villagers' voices blending into a single, tumultuous roar, when you stepped forward, your presence commanding immediate attention. In your hand, you held a yellow jade dragon seal, the symbol of the Gui Family's authority. As you raised it high, the villagers fell silent, their eyes wide with recognition and respect, the weight of centuries of tradition pressing down on them.

"This is the family chop of the Gui Family," you said calmly, your voice carrying across the square with a quiet authority that demanded attention. "As the Family Head, I have the authority to decide our family's engagements and business contracts."

The elders exchanged uneasy glances, their anger dissipating into uncertainty. They knew the significance of the Gui Family's seal and the power it represented, a power that had been respected and feared for generations. The jade dragon seal was a symbol of your family's influence, a reminder of the legacy that had shaped Liyue.

"The Gui Family's business contract with Yip Tak will still go ahead," you continued, your tone measured and deliberate, "and the betrothal contract can be transferred to Gaming's cousin, who works at the Feiyun Commerce Guild as a bookkeeper."

Gaming's face went pale as your words sank in. His mind raced, panic rising in his chest like a tidal wave. He rushed forward, throwing himself at your feet with a desperation that stunned the onlookers. "Please, reconsider! I beg you!" he cried, his voice breaking with emotion. The sight of Gaming, usually so confident and composed, now reduced to a pleading figure, sent a ripple of shock through the crowd.

Yun Jin, equally distressed, stepped back, her face ashen. She understood the gravity of the situation all too well. The Yun-Han Opera Troupe, which relied heavily on the financial support of the Five First Families, stood to lose everything if you withdrew your backing. The weight of her fear pressed down on her, and she felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. The future of the troupe, the dreams of so many performers, hung in the balance.

You looked at Gaming, his desperate plea echoing in your ears. The villagers watched in stunned silence, their faces a mixture of shock, curiosity, and sympathy. The air was thick with tension, every breath, every movement laden with significance. This moment, this decision, would shape the future of not just Gaming and Yun Jin, but the entire village.

The villagers watched in stunned silence as Gaming pleaded with you, his desperation palpable and raw. For a moment, it seemed as though the entire village held its breath, the only sound the distant crackling of the festival's fireworks.

"Gaming, this is not just about love," you said softly, but firmly, your eyes locking onto his with a steely resolve. "It is about honor and responsibility, values that have sustained our families for generations."

Yun Jin, tears welling in her eyes, approached you, her voice trembling. "Please, Lady Gui, do not punish the troupe for our mistake," she implored, her tone filled with genuine fear and regret. She bowed deeply, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her emotions.

You looked at her, seeing the genuine fear and regret in her eyes. The villagers, sensing the gravity of the situation, began to murmur among themselves, their anger slowly giving way to sympathy. The tension in the air was thick, every word and gesture laden with significance.

Yip Tak, his expression softened by the sight of his son's anguish, stepped forward. "Perhaps we can find a solution that honors all parties involved," he suggested, his voice conciliatory, his eyes searching yours for a sign of agreement.

You nodded slowly, though the pain in your heart remained. "Very well. The betrothal contract will be transferred, and the business agreement will remain intact. However, Gaming and Yun Jin must understand the importance of their actions and the consequences they carry," you said, your tone firm but fair.

Gaming, still on his knees, looked up at you with gratitude and relief etched across his face. "Thank you, Yn…" he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

Yun Jin, her face streaked with tears, bowed deeply once more. "We will not forget your kindness, Lady Gui," she said, her voice filled with a solemn promise.

——

As the Lantern Rite festivities continued, you stood quietly at the edge of the village square, reflecting on the night's events. The village had been shaken, but the foundations of honor and tradition had held firm.

With each flicker of the lanterns, a pang of sorrow struck your heart. Gaming and Yun Jin’s shared happiness was a stark contrast to your own sense of loss. You had loved Gaming silently. Seeing him so openly in love with someone else was a dagger to your heart, shattering the dreams you had nurtured in silence.

You watched as the villagers slowly returned to their celebrations, their faces lit by the warm glow of the lanterns. Yet, amidst the laughter and joy, you felt a profound sense of isolation. The burden of your family's legacy and the weight of unspoken feelings bore down on you, making the jade dragon seal in your hand feel heavier than ever.

With a final glance at the glowing lanterns, you walked away, knowing that the true strength of a family lies in its ability to adapt and grow, even in the face of adversity. The lanterns floated gently into the night sky, carrying with them the hopes and dreams of the villagers, a testament to the enduring spirit of Liyue.

The festive sounds faded into the background as you walked through the village, each step echoing with the ache of unfulfilled love. The path of duty and honor was a lonely one, but it was yours to walk. The lanterns' glow dimmed, yet their light remained in your heart, a reminder of your own resilience.

As the last of the lanterns disappeared into the starry sky, you took a deep breath, allowing the cool night air to fill your lungs. Though the night was filled with sorrow, it also carried a quiet strength, a determination to face the future with grace. With one last look at the village square, now a place of bittersweet memories, you turned away, stepping into the future with a heart full of both sorrow and resilience, ready to embrace whatever lay ahead.

[ikeprinces-stuff]

[𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬, 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜]

A/N note : Happy birthday Leon Dompteur 🥺🥀✨❤️

(header and Romarin's art by : yours truly 😉✨❤️)

Pairing: Leon Dompteur x Romarin ??????

Warning: No warning WC: 3K

Previous fics:

Tendon Entanglement The Melody Of A Kiss

Two Cups Of Warm Love Symphony Of Longing

The dome now stands empty, its once-vibrant beauty's time rose having fulfilled its purpose in the most perfect manner. No longer does it have reason to confine itself within the intricately adorned structure. Its position remains unchanged, steadfast by the throne that lies before it. Save for the golden engravings that accentuate its edges, the throne appears merely as an ordinary chair; yet, its significance lies in the identity of the one who occupies it and the weight of their responsibility.

Upon his ascension to kingship, the throne became his rightful seat. He had attained what he sought within these palace walls, vowing to guide his kingdom towards a future of light and peace. Yet beneath the surface of his triumph lies a sense of unease; a profound emptiness stirs within him, unsettling his very soul. Has he truly found joy now that his ambition has been realized? Is there nothing more he desires?

His amber gaze lingered on the dome’s glass, captivated by the way the early morning sun illuminated the tall windows of the throne room. Though the sunlight bathed the space in warmth, that warmth failed to penetrate the heart of this solitary king.

On the morning of August 1st, a palpable excitement buzzed through the palace, a day that everyone recognized with eager anticipation. Though the sun had yet to climb high in the sky, the servants scurried about, diligently preparing for the grand celebration planned for that evening. Yet, amidst the flurry of activity, they found time to show their utmost respect to the guest of honor.

“Good morning, Your Majesty. Wishing you a happy birthday in advance,” one maid offered with extra reverence. The king returned her sentiment with a warm smile and a nod. “Thank you. I see everything is progressing smoothly?” he observed, glancing beyond her to the hustle of preparations. She confirmed with a nod, “All in honor of you, my lord,” before excusing herself to resume her tasks, mindful not to linger and waste the king’s time.

From where he stood, the party hall came into view, adorned with decorations and seemingly endless gifts addressed to him. Although he was accustomed to the organized chaos of such events, the familiar atmosphere brought a gentle smile to his face.

“Oh, look who’s up early? The birthday man, or should I say, the birthday King,” chimed a familiar voice as an arm casually draped over his shoulders. He chuckled lightly, recognizing the playful tone of his older brother. “Sariel insisted on an early wake-up call and, of all people, sent Vernard to rouse me, so I had little choice,” he replied, gently removing the First Prince's arm with the familiar ease of their brotherly banter.

The brothers made their way to the Domestic Faction office, where they found Yves and Licht already seated at their desks. “Good morning, you two,” Leon greeted casually. “Good morning, Your Majesty,” Yves replied promptly, while Licht offered only a nod of acknowledgment.

“Alright, Leon, it's time to prepare for the party tonight. You have a hefty workload ahead of you, especially since you’ve been sneaking out of the palace these past few days. This will be your first birthday celebration as a king instead of a prince,” Yves said, his tone a mix of firmness and concern. Licht’s expression was icy as he interjected, “What’s the difference?”

“There’s a world of difference, Licht. As a king, he must be present to greet and accept congratulations from the nobles of the royal court,” Yves explained. “It’s no different from being a prince,” Licht scoffed, his skepticism palpable. Just as Yves was about to elaborate, Leon’s surprised voice cut through their discussion. “Huh?”

“Looks like he’s caught on,” Jin smirked from his position near the door. Leon ambled over to his desk, where he noticed all his papers and documents had been meticulously organized. After a careful inspection, he let out a resigned sigh. “Vernard…”

“You called?” came a voice from behind Jin, causing him to start slightly. Turning around, he was met with Vernard’s sudden presence, as if he had materialized from thin air. “He's done it again,” Jin remarked, clearly taken aback by Vernard’s knack for appearing unexpectedly. Vernard merely shrugged. “I tend to do that. You should get used to it.”

Leon gestured at the neatly arranged documents scattered across his desk. “You finished all of this, didn’t you?”

“That’s no surprise,” Licht replied, his tone still frosty, while Jin added with a grin, “He does this all the time; so, what's the big deal?" Leon leaned back against his desk, addressing Vernard again. “You woke me up early for a reason, and we both know it was so I could tackle these official duties before nightfall. Yet, here you are, having done the work. If this was your plan all along, why bother waking me up in the first place?”

The answer was obvious to them all, but Leon chose to voice it anyway. Vernard simply grinned. “Because I can’t refuse any request from Mr. Sariel, no matter how absurd it may be.” He explained nonchalantly, “He told me, ‘Wake King Leon up tomorrow morning,’ without any further explanation, and I obliged. It’s not my concern if your waking up holds no significance anymore.” His faint smile, almost imperceptible from a distance, spoke volumes about the humor lurking beneath the surface of their daily chaos.

Leon let out a dramatic sigh, but honestly, Vernard’s antics didn’t faze him. He and his brothers, along with just about everyone in the palace, were used to Vern’s quirks by now.

“You really knocked out those backlogged duties in record time,” Yves remarked, casting a doubtful look at Vernard. “So does that mean—” But before he could finish, Vernard jumped in, cutting him off. “That means Leon’s got way too much free time on his hands now.” Everyone turned to Vernard in surprise.

“You heard him, chief. Vern gives you a free pass,” Jin chimed in with a lazy wink, popping a sugar lollipop into his mouth.

“So, are you planning to meet up with her today too?” Jin asked, and the moment he said it, the group’s attention shifted to Leon. They all knew he was talking about the wandering musician who’d stolen Leon’s heart. Leon had been sneaking out of the palace way more often lately. Thankfully, his brothers were usually in on the act, covering for him without a second thought. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and now that Vernard had pointed out Leon’s newfound free time, he chuckled at the whole situation.

“I guess I can’t hide anything from you guys, huh?” Leon replied nonchalantly.

“Well, your face gives it away,” Yves said matter-of-factly. “You’re planning to spend half your birthday with her, aren’t you?” Licht added casually, making Leon shrug. He wasn’t quite sure what his next move would be.

“If you stick around here, you’ll never find out, will you?” Vernard said firmly. “The longer you waste time, the more likely me and Mr. Sariel will change our minds.” Leon laughed again, “Alright, alright, I’m outta here.” He straightened up and headed over to Vernard, who was lounging in the doorway. “Catch you guys tonight,” he called as he walked out, leaving his brothers and the rest of the faction mulling over what their king was really up to.

“Are you being a bit too easy on him lately, Vernard?” Yves asked, clearly waiting for some kind of explanation.

“Let him be, Yves. You know why,” Jin replied, a grin creeping on his face. “I’m actually curious to see how things play out between Leon and that young lady.” Yves frowned. “I’m kind of worried… you remember what happened with…”

“I’ll make sure that kind of thing doesn’t happen again, Yves,” Vernard said, his voice steady despite his gaze drifting off as if he was lost in thought.

Leon didn’t need to hunt for her anymore; he knew exactly where to find her. She was probably up to her usual antics, either serenading the streets with her violin or playing the “bird lady,” scattering crumbs of bread for the birds. The Plaza Fountain popped into his head—their spot since day one. Whenever they wanted to catch up, they’d meet there. “Just as I thought… the bird lady mode,” he chuckled to himself, but his laughter faded when he spotted what was really going on. Instead of feeding the usual flock of pigeons, she was petting a sleek black crow that seemed to have swooped right in next to her, its feathers nicely mirroring her outfit. Normally, crows were known for their annoying caws, but here she was treating it like a loyal pet.

“When you do a solid for a crow, like giving it food, it’ll remember you, and soon enough, it'll come back with gifts,” she said, her voice carrying across the plaza. She knew he was standing there without even turning around; he had become a constant in her life, a presence she could sense even without seeing him.

“Well, that’s news to me,” Leon replied, taking slow steps toward her. Watching her with that crow was oddly fascinating, but he knew he had to be careful—he didn’t want to scare it off like he did with the pigeons last time. Suddenly, the crow hopped closer, eyeing him with an inquisitive tilt of its head, and for a brief moment, Leon thought he was being sized up by a bird. But Romarin stood up abruptly, causing the crow to take off. “Hey, it’s your fault this time, not mine!” he said, trying to play innocent. Romarin took a step closer, looking at him with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “I didn’t scare it off; it probably went to fetch one of its shiny treasures for me again.”

“Again?” Leon raised an eyebrow, realizing this wasn’t the first time. Romarin nodded, “I stumbled upon the little fellow during one of my itineraries and decided to share some lunch. Ever since then, it's been sticking around, bringing me little trinkets like pebbles or bottle caps.” A smile crept onto his face, even if he couldn’t help but feel a little left out. “So, what you’re saying is that you give more attention to the crow than you do to me? What does that say about you, hmmm?” he teased, a warm light in his tone. She rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. “Seriously? Jealous of a bird? Talking about childish.”

“So, what’s the plan for today? You gonna put on a show for everyone to see how much you like me and keep up the act?” she shot back with a smirk, but there was a hint of truth in her sarcasm. “Actually, no,” he replied, keeping his tone serious, which made her smile waver just a bit. “There’s something I want to say, but… not here,” he whispered, gently nodding as he extended his hand. “You can come with me or not; it’s totally up to you.”

Romarin stared at him hard, trying to read his expression. After all their time together, she thought she had Leon figured out—the man who admired her music and loved to tease her. But now, the playful vibe was melting away, leaving just a serious, sincere figure, and suddenly making her heart race with curiosity over what he had to say. She caught sight of his smile fading slightly, which nudged her to make a decision. With a quick inhale, she slipped her hand into his. “You really are persuasive, aren’t you?”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he said, intertwining their fingers. Glancing down at their hands, Leon’s expression shifted, a fleeting frown crossing his face as if something had just struck him. “Leon?” she asked softly, gripping his hand tighter. He looked back at her, forcing a smile before leading her away from the plaza, pulling her along into the unknown.

“Whoa!!” Romarin exclaimed, astonished by the view before her, taking a few steps closer. “Careful there or you’ll wipe out,” Leon chuckled, catching her off-guard. She shot him a disapproving glance. “I’m not that clumsy, you know!” Her attention was quickly drawn back to the breathtaking panorama. Leon had decided to bring her to a high hill where you could take in the entire capital from above. He moved beside her, and Romarin broke the silence, “How’d you know I hadn’t found this spot yet?” Leon shrugged, “I didn't, but hey, guess I'm lucky I brought you here. Your reaction's totally worth it.”

Romarin rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile as she continued to gaze at the scene. “You mentioned there was something you wanted to tell me.” Leon nodded, his tone calm, “Yeah, today’s my birthday.” “Oh really?” she raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Happy birthday, old man! How many candles are you blowing out this year?” Leon shot back playfully, “Not old enough, thankfully.” he shot back with a grin, and they both laughed. “And you expect me to play a tune for you on your special day?” she teased. “Please?” Leon replied, a thoughtful look on his face. “Hmph, just remember, I don’t play for free. Every song has its price.”

Yet, beneath their lighthearted banter, there was an unmistakable tension. “That’s not all you wanted to say, is it?” Romarin asked, her eyebrows knitting in concern. “You didn’t drag me out here just to share your birthday, did you?” Leon sighed, “You’re sharper than I thought.” He finally looked at her,

“Ever heard of ‘slaves’?” Romarin’s eyes widened in surprise. “What’s that got to do with anything? Why’s that coming up now?” “So, you know what they're about, huh?” Leon cut her off, leaving her staring at him, her expression shifting from confusion to realization. In that moment, she dropped her gaze from the view and focused solely on the man standing beside her. The air between them grew heavy, and silence filled the space for what felt like an eternity.

The two of them sat on the hilltop, gazing down at the town below, the wind playing with their hair as it carried their unspoken thoughts. Leon had braced himself for Romarin to call him a liar, to scoff at the wild story he was about to share. But to his surprise, she didn’t. She just listened, her expression serious, without cutting him off. “Who would’ve thought?” Romarin finally said softly, breaking the silence. “That you’d go from being seen as a worthless slave to the impressive guy sitting next to me?” Her voice was gentle, but her gaze stayed fixed on the ground. “The life I have now, it cost a single coin... a moment I never dreamed I’d see as a kid.”

“Who else knows about this?” she asked quietly, her curiosity piqued. Leon shrugged, “Everyone. A knight from the palace bought me, remember?” The irritation on Romarin’s face was immediate upon hearing ‘bought.’ “People’s lives have really become that cheap, huh? It’s unbelievable how thoughtless they are.” Leon couldn’t help but chuckle at her fierce expression, but she quickly cut him off, “Why did you choose to share this with me today?” His laughter faded as he took a deep breath, staring off into the distance. “Everyone celebrates my birthday as ‘Leon’, the guy who got this name and date. But who am I, really? Just a slave who doesn’t even know when he was born, who his parents are, or what his real name is…”

Once again, silence wrapped around them like a blanket. This wasn’t the first time he had peeled back the layers of his secret, and he knew her reaction would be as predictable as it was with ... Not Romarin, or his brothers -this was the moment he had chosen to reveal his truth to someone he trusted deeply, again...

"Listen…" Leon's voice wavered, tinged with urgency. “I know you might not get it, but I’ve got to spill this out. It’s been festering inside me for ages, and it’s like a weight that just won’t lift.” But Romarin sat there, her jade eyes averted, silent and still, both of them caught in a moment that felt heavy with unspoken truths.

“To be thrown into a world where you're adrift, to have everyone else charting your course while you’re left questioning your own existence… to not even know your roots or where you truly belong…” Romarin’s whisper pierced the stillness. Leon's gaze sharpened, focusing on her as he waited, breath held, for her to go on. “You’re not alone in this. Lucky for you,” she added, the words landing like a stone in his chest. He was taken aback—was it possible that someone else had shared his solitude, his confusion? Could Romarin be experiencing the same kind of existential struggle?

“It feels like you put a lot of trust in me to open up like this,” she remarked finally, turning to him with a calm expression that belied the storm brewing beneath. “What if I told you I was just playing you this whole time?” he countered, a wry edge creeping into his tone. Romarin chuckled softly, the sound both teasing and genuine. “I’ve got a knack for reading people, and you? You’re definitely not the type to lie about something like this.” His heart swelled with a mix of surprise and gratitude, and he flashed her a relieved smile. “Thanks for believing me... thank you for listening.”

On a whim, Romarin set her violin case down and pulled out her instrument, slipping into her familiar pose. Leon quirked an eyebrow, amusement dancing across his features. “Didn’t you say you don’t play for free?” She shot him a sidelong glance, a smirk playing on her lips. “There’s a difference between playing for cash and playing for sanity.” And with that, her bow glided over the strings, unleashing a serene melody that hung in the air like a balm. As Leon watched her—no audience but him—he felt the gravity of her notes sinking deep into his soul. “Happy birthday, Leon,” she offered, her voice woven into her playing. “And I’m not talking about the person the world knows, but the real you, the one staring right at me.”

In a heartbeat, the scene blurred, pulling into a reverie of faded memories. The landscape shifted like an old film reel, revealing two small figures: one listening, the other pouring their heart into the music. A boy cloaked in shadows, hair as dark as the midnight sky and clothes worn and frayed. Beside him, a girl stood with locks of white like freshly fallen snow, her presence both delicate and strong. Despite the differences in their appearances, the song created an invisible bond that had somehow weathered time, whispering promises of a connection that might be revived through the very same tune.

~ 𝑬𝑵𝑫

01.08.2024 ❤️🦁