#true contentment eludes me...

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

I've said it before and I will say it again now

Ladies, you are just never, ever going to be satisfied

Men, despite having every advantage in the world, are also miserable

[moonstruckme]

hi mae, how you've been? if your request are open could i make one? if they're not, please ignore this ^^

could you write remus with (gn) reader that struggles with english? (as a language fjdndnd). for example, they could be an exchange student and finds difficult to find the words to communicate, but can completely understand a whole conversation, like its just hard for them to express themselves? idk if you get what i mean, sorry for the nonsense 😭😭😭

you write beautifully, i can't wait to read the next thawing out chapter!!!!! xoxoxo

Thank for requesting angel <3

cw: hints of maybe some social anxiety (?) around language learning

Remus Lupin x gn!reader ♡ 1k words

In group settings, you’ve become an unintentional wallflower. The conversations among this group, specifically, are too rapid-fire for your tentative tongue to keep up with, so you find yourself tracking it and letting your own thoughts pass unvoiced. At least at Sirius’ Christmas party, you’re not the only wallflower in the mix. 

Remus acts much like you, sometimes. He sits back, listens, smiles to himself at his friends’ antics. Sometimes James or Sirius will prompt him with a question, like they’re used to having to drag him into their two-man show, but for the most part he seems content to enjoy being around everyone in quietude. Until, at least, he leans over to speak to you. 

“You alright?” he asks in a low voice, underneath the story James is telling about Christmas shopping with his mum. 

You blink, surprised. “Yes.” 

“You seem a bit quiet.” Remus looks curious, but he doesn’t push. There’s a tiny fluttering in your stomach at being noticed. You’ve talked with Remus on a couple of occasions—and it’s true, you did have more to say then than you do now, in this bantery group—but you wouldn’t have expected him to note the change. “How’s your drink?” 

He’s looking at your cup, nearly full despite the hour you’ve been nursing it. 

“It’s…” You don’t know the polite way to say what you want to say. Maybe there is none. 

Remus smiles. “You aren’t in love with it, then?” 

You think you might go still, just the phrase in love sending heat to your cheeks. “It’s not very bad,” you try to laugh. “It’s…what’s the word…heavy?”

His brows furrow for a second, but then he realizes. “Oh, is it very strong?” 

You nod, relieved. “Yes.” 

He laughs. “Well, that’s what happens when Sirius makes them. Sorry, we ought to have warned you.” He glances over his shoulder at his friend, as though checking whether he’s been overheard; you don’t get the impression he would care much if he had. When his eyes return to you, you have the impression of staring into a fireplace; a steady, comforting warmth. “Come with me,” he says. 

Remus leads you to the kitchen. To the scene of the crime, where your first drink was concocted. Sirius is nothing if not well prepared; the counter is stocked with rows of alcohol and mixers, plus canned drinks and non-alcoholic options. Remus finds you a new cup. 

“What do you like?” 

You can see a bottle of what you want on the counter, but the name eludes you. You’re not close enough to try and read the label. “Anything.” 

Remus’ eyebrow twitches. “Really, anything?” He looks at you. It feels like being peeled like a tangerine, like he’s somehow seeing your squishy insides. “You don’t have any preference?”

You gnaw the inside of your cheek. “I, uh…” You reach past him, picking up the bottle. “This, please. Sorry, I don’t have the name…” 

“That’s alright,” Remus says easily. He gives you a gentle smile as he takes the bottle from you, and your heart does something awful behind your ribs. “You don’t need to know it. Whatever works, right?” 

“Right,” you echo embarrassedly. 

He asks you to pick a mixer, and when you point again starts to pour. “So,” he says, “is there a reason you’re not talking to us?” 

You blink at him. “What?” 

“You’ve just been keeping more to yourself tonight.” There’s a hint of something you can’t identify in Remus’ tone, but you can’t seek clues in his face when he’s looking down at your drink. “Is it something we did?” 

“No. I’m not…no.” You shake your head fervently. “I like you.” You take Remus’ wrist, and he looks up, surprised. “I like you.” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice softens at the distress in your expression. “I was only joking, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” 

Relief seeps into you. You feel your posture ease, your face clearing, but Remus only melts further. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into a hug. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I didn’t really think you were angry with us.” Your arms come around him too, on instinct, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s just that you’ve been so quiet and I wanted to ask why, but I was only teasing.”

“It’s okay.” You laugh a little, giddy on physical contact. “It’s not you.” 

Remus hums, still apologetic. “What’s going on, then?”

“Nothing’s going on.” You search the far corners of your mind, reaching for the words. “I’m quiet because…because I’m slow. It’s more difficult with many people.” 

Remus pulls back a bit, frowning. “You’re not slow, sweetheart.” 

“My English is slow,” you clarify.

“That’s…no.” He shakes his head. “I’m sure it does take longer to find the right words, but you don’t have to stay quiet because of that. We can wait.” 

“It’s okay,” you try to explain. “Sometimes, people need to talk fast, but, for me…it takes time.” 

“That’s fine,” says Remus. “We get it. Or, actually, we don’t, which is probably the more important part. You speak more than one language. That’s not something any of the rest of us can say—well, except Sirius, but his parents were twats, and he’s more of a twat for it, honestly.” His eyes widen a fraction. “Not that knowing more than one language makes you a twat—Sirius is, but you aren’t. I’m not trying to call you a twat.” 

You shake your head, smiling. 

“I’m trying,” Remus laughs, “to say that you’re very smart, much smarter than any of us in there who only grew up speaking English and haven’t aspired to anything more since. So if you need to speak a bit slower to get your point across, that’s perfectly alright. Is that…did that come across right?” 

“Yes,” you laugh, warmth in your cheeks. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me.” Remus gives you another hug, briefer. “Just don’t be quiet, yeah? How’s this?” 

You take a tentative sip of your drink, trying to wrangle your smile. “It’s good,” you assure him. 

“Good. Let’s go.” He starts leading the way back to the party. “You had something to say when Lily was talking about her botched muffins last week, I could see it on your face. I want to hear all about it.”

[aemondsbabe]

Love is Patient and Kind

summary: hand holding & dry humping || you aren't ready to take the next step with your monk, luckily for you he has the patience of a saint

pairing: osferth x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dry humping, very fluffy, osferth being cute and understanding and ruining other men for everyone, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2.5k

a/n: welcome to day one of 12 days of smuff!! hope y'all enjoy this one! Can be read as part 1 to Wind’s Howling or as a stand alone!

12 days of smuff masterlist

gif creds to @thecruel!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Are you sure you do not wish for me to carry that, my lady?” Osferth asks for the millionth time, nodding his head at the basket, laden with various herbs and medicinal plants, in the crook of your elbow. 

For the millionth time, you merely shake your head with a crooked smile. “I wish only for your company, monk,” you glance over at him as the two of you walk through the forest, admiring the way the early afternoon sun casts a golden halo through his hair, “I told you as much when we left camp this morning.”

Osferth merely nods in reply; your man is one of few words. A soft blush blooms across your cheeks at the thought – your man, but it was as good as true. Osferth was the first man in Uhtred’s company you felt comfortable with when you joined their cause all those months ago when they’d stopped in your small hamlet in need of a healer; you’d been by their side ever since.

In the months since, your relationship with the monk had steadily grown from hushed whispers around the campfire in the dead of night, when sleep eluded the both of you, to heated glances, delicate touches, and stolen kisses. More recently, Osferth had all but insisted on accompanying you nearly everywhere you went, which is how he’d come to follow you as you walked through the forest to gather the variety of curative plants you need.

A content sigh passes your lips as you tilt your head up, taking in the way the tips of the trees stretch up toward the blue sky. “I had almost forgotten what the sun looked like,” you joke, your heart squeezing proudly in your chest as the monk chuckles next to you, “But hopefully this summer will be dryer than the last.”

“I have prayed many times for sun,” Osferth says with a nod, blue eyes soft as he gazes at you, “Unfortunately, the Lord seems to ignore those requests.” The corner of his lips tilts up as he huffs a laugh at his own joke. 

Suddenly, a branch snaps loudly not too far off the winding path the two of you have been strolling down. Osferth acts quickly, ever vigilant, and takes your hand to usher you behind him as he draws his sword. Your breath quickens as you peek around his shoulder, pressing yourself tightly against his back as your hand grips his; you’d been assured by Uhtred’s scouts that the forest surrounding camp was perfectly safe, but in these times danger seemed to creep up from every corner. 

A buck appears a little ways down the path, followed by two more deer, each sparing you and the monk only a quick glance before scampering into the forest once more. The two of you let out a collective sigh of relief as Osferth sheaths his sword with a shy smile. 

“Perhaps now would be a good time for a break, my lady?” He suggests with a soft smile, “We’ve been walking since morning.”

“I think we’ve earned a break,” you nod, gazing up at him through your lashes, the two of you still close enough that you could make out soft flecks of green in his blue eyes, “I believe I saw a clearing a few paces back.” 

“Lead the way.” Osferth nods, keeping in pace with you as you backtrack to where you’d spotted a lush clearing through the trees only moments ago. As you walk, nearly shoulder to shoulder, the monk silently takes your hand again, his rough fingers threading together with yours. Neither of you speaks, though you can nearly feel his pleased smile from your periphery, twin to your own. 

After only a few moments, you veer off the path as the two of you step into a sizable glade, the trees giving way to a field of tall grass. Your hands stay clasped as you walk together, basket still tucked in your elbow as you lift the skirts of your linen gown to prevent it from snagging on the high blades of grass; your chest tightens once more when you glance down and notice how Osferth takes great care to step over any flowers in his path, the ones that sprinkle the meadow with pops of yellow and lilac. 

Soon, you come to a spot where the ground seems to be drier, however the monk grasps your forearm to stop you as he slips the thin, grey wool cloak off his shoulders and drapes it over the ground.

“Osferth,” you gently admonish, though a smile does creep across your lips at the sweet gesture, “I am perfectly capable of sitting on the ground.”

“A lady should not have to,” he says simply, nodding to the cloak, “Please.”

With a final glance, and a good-natured roll of your eyes, you comply, setting your basket down before relaxing atop his robe. After making sure you’re settled, the monk joins you, setting his sword to the side as he sits and leans back on his hands, scanning the treeline. 

“It’s so lovely here…” you smile as you glance around, a soft breeze causing the grass to rustle around you.

Osferth sits up beside you, a relaxed smile on his lips as he takes your hand and pulls you closer to him. “I find the company to be far lovelier,” he whispers before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, never taking more than you seem keen to give. The two of you easily fall into a lazy rhythm, your lips moving together as he guides you to lie against his chest. You lay your hand against his chest, right over his heart, thankful that he’s forgone his usual leather armor and chainmail today as you feel his warmth through the soft tunic he wears. 

He sighs against your lips, his fingers gently weaving into the locks of hair at the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and making you cling to him all the more tightly, his other hand wrapping around your waist before settling in the small of your back, holding you to him. 

After a few moments, the two of you part to catch your breath and he studies you with a warm gaze as you relax against his chest. “We are meant to be stopping in a town tonight.” Osferth says simply. 

“That we are.” 

“We could get a room together,” he breathes, making you gasp as he trails kisses across your jaw, “Just the two of us.” 

Immediately, you tense up and untangle yourself from him, sitting up with a sigh. He quickly sits up next to you and you can feel him eyeing you with concern, though you dare not meet his gaze. 

“My lady, I didn't mean to offend you…” He says hesitantly, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“You didn’t offend me, sweet monk,” you turn to him with a bashful smile, “I am simply…I don’t know if i’m ready.” 

“Ready for what?” His head tilts to the side as he eyes you curiously. 

You chuckle nervously, unsure of how to broach the topic. “Osferth, I have heard enough tales of your…prowess around the campfire to know that my skills do not match your own.” 

The crease between his brows only deepens as he continues staring at you, blue eyes flitting between your own. “My prowess?” 

“With more…intimate relations…” You say slowly, glancing away from him. 

“Oh,” he says softly before his eyes widen comically, a dark blush cascading over his fair cheeks, “Oh!”

You can’t help but laugh softly at his dumbstruck expression, your lips quirking up into a soft smile despite your nerves. 

The hand on your shoulder tightens as he leans closer to you. “My love, you need not fret over it,” he whispers, blue eyes conveying a deep seriousness, “We can get a room at the tavern and not do anything at all.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion – you’ve always been told to expect a very different answer from men. “What?”

He huffs out a soft laugh and pulls you back down to lie on the grass with him once more. “I mean what I say,” he says softly, one hand stroking your hair, “We can get a room and just kiss or cuddle or merely talk, I don’t care.” You look up from where you’ve had your cheek laying against his chest, the emotion in his eyes shocking you for a second, “I just want to be with you.” He whispers finally.

You can feel yourself blushing as he speaks, the apples of your cheeks heating up deliciously under his kind gaze. A girlish giggle erupts from your lips before you can stop it, which only makes him laugh too as you bury your head against his chest and bite your lip, breathing in his familiar scent of leather and campfire smoke. 

After a moment, the two of you calm down and you finally look back up at him, “Kissing sounds good…” you nearly whisper, suddenly shy as he surveys your face.

Osferth merely chuckles, low in his throat, and rolls the two of you over. Normally, this is when you’d be pushing any other man off of you with some mumbled excuse, but you can’t help but feel safe with the sandy haired monk, taking him at his word that whatever you were willing to give would be enough.

“We have time, and plenty of herbs already,” he rasps, his voice thick with an arousal you’d only heard on a very scant few occasions when the two of you had shared frantic kisses in the night once the rest of the men were asleep, “Why wait until tonight?”

A small giggle escapes you once again as the blush on your cheeks extends down, almost all the way to your chest, but you nod nonetheless, your arms coming up to snake around his neck as you pull him down to you. A small whimpery breath escapes you when his lips touch yours yet again, and he responds in kind with a low groan, the sound rumbling from his chest. His lips are soft against your own as the two of you move leisurely; once again, he lets you set the pace, only licking at your bottom lip after you do the same to him first. 

Your thighs spread as your kiss deepens and you moan again when he slots himself between your thighs, the linen of your dress hiked up just above your knees. A shiver rolls through you at the feel of him on top of you, so warm and weighty.

“Is this alright?” He breathes, navy eyes blinking between each of yours as he checks for any signs of discomfort from you, visibly relaxing when he finds none.

Wordlessly, you nod, bobbing your head eagerly as you pull him back down. His hands roam carefully over your body as your lips and tongues move together, breathlessly licking into each other's mouths. You whine into his mouth when you feel a hardness pressing against your center, a pleased hum emanating from your chest at the realization that you’ve affected him this much with only a kiss; the pride in your heart twists into something different, something deeper as a knot forms and begins tightening in your belly.

“My lady –” Osferth mumbles as he starts to pull away from you, an apologetic smile on his handsome face.

“Don’t!” You say quickly, tugging him back to you and surprising even yourself as you wrap your legs around his trim waist, “Please, I – It’s good.” You confirm breathlessly, eyebrows quirked up with need as you look up at him through your lashes. 

��Yeah?” He asks, unable to wipe the pleased grin off his face as he settles back on top of you, careful to keep most of his weight off of you as he presses against your center again.

You nod, already threading your fingers into the short hair at the back of his head to draw his lips back to yours. A breathy, high-pitched moan leaves you at the feel of his clothed length pressing against you, the ties at the front of his breeches only adding to the pleasurable sensations that zap through you as he starts rolling his hips against your own.

His pace quickens as he breaks away from you, panting against your skin as he traces wet kisses down your jaw to your neck. Your head lolls to the side as you whimper and whine underneath him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel his hard cock twitch against you, even through the fabric of your smallclothes.

You’re quick to match his pace, using the leverage of your legs wrapped around his middle to ruck yourself up into each thrust, earning grunts of pleasure from the monk. 

“My lady,” he groans, one hand fisting into your hair as the other trails down to run appreciatively over the bare skin of your thigh, “Y-You are bewitching.” He gasps, mouthing at your neck, his cock no doubt leaking into the leather of his trousers. 

Your only reply is a choked out moan of his name as your back arches underneath him, the knot in your belly winding tighter and tighter as the ties of his breeches rub over your pearl deliciously, your smallclothes no doubt soaked. 

Blessedly, Osferth seems to understand the desperation in your voice and movements and pulls back to look at you, both of his hands quickly grasping yours, fingers threading together as he holds them to the earth beside your head.

 “Sweet girl,” he grunts as he gazes down at you, a rosy blush cascading beautifully over his high cheekbones, “P-Peak, my lady, please,” he pants as his fingers tighten against your own, “I’m, God be good, I’m right behind you.”

You nod frantically, your only sound a choked out sob as you tense underneath him when his hips rut perfectly against yours, the knots of his pants catching against your sensitive bud in just the right way to tip you over the edge. You twitch underneath him, white knuckling his hands when you feel your center clenching helplessly around nothing as pleasure buzzes through you. 

Osferth reaches his end mere seconds after you, humping against you two or three more times before tensing, his eyes squeezing shut as his own high washes over him, cock spasming in his breeches as his spend leaks into the waiting fabric. 

“You’re beautiful,” you declare softly, the words tumbling from your lips as soon as you think of them.

The monk blushes somehow more heavily above you, though a soft smile graces his lips. With a soft sigh, he falls to his side, bringing you with him. Your cheek once again finds its home against his chest and you smile at the sound of his heart thumping wildly as he pulls you closely to him, one arm wrapping protectively around you as he tucks the other under his head, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“You flatter me, my lady,” he says lowly, a pleased rasp to his voice. “You are truly an angel,” he continues after a moment, “A beautiful, precious angel.”

You smile contentedly, his heart thudding steadily in your ear as you let your eyes drift shut, happy to stay in this still, safe bubble with your monk for as long as the outside world will allow.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc

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[cozy-writes-things]

Edgar x Gn!Reader [Electric Dreams 1984]

Reader does have a set of badonkers though... sorry what can I say i mean everyone has a little bit of badonkers though right? amirite? hello?

"Wh-what's that?"

The little, vintage Pinecone computer before you uttered in synthesized curiosity as he heard your fingers nimbly break open the tape adhesive sealing the contents of the cardboard box away from the outside world.

You hummed in response to this. Ever observant as he was, you should have guessed surprising him would be out of the question. You even took to paying in cash to avoid your online bank statements giving you away. Well, you supposed it was time to spill the beans anyway. You'd be lying if you said you couldn't feel the excitement bubbling up within your chest and fluttering out through your hands as you swiftly pulled the device from its cardboard prison.

"It's a surprise," you stated plainly, trying ever so strongly to shield the eagerness in your voice; unfortunately for you, he noticed the slight warble in your tone right away, having taken the sound of your voice straight to his long term memory to listen almost every time he was alone.

He seemed to know you more than yourself at times.

"What is it?"

This time he asked with a certain lilt in his voice, one that gave away his anticipation plainly. His screen began flashing a pixelated question mark, rotating it, flipping it, and copying it a hundred times over along his smooth glass exterior. As if he were contemplating the sounds your hands made as they moved, trying ever so desperately to guess what you could be up to. He hated to admit it but he had a certain disdain for being in the dark on things. Edgar thrived on having control of situations for the most part; it gave him some semblance of power over the world around him; something that was quite difficult to achieve for a stationary piece of tech. It made him feel ever so closer to being perceived as who he was: a person.

"Well, are you gonna tell me or- ah-"

His words glitched and stuttered out as you plugged in your newest little experiment: a rotating webcam. Immediately Edgar began to analyze the new device he sensed, scanning it, setting it up, and turning it on before you could even tell him what it was. You looked rather dumbfounded as the little blue light blinked to life, indicating that for the first time in his life, Edgar could see. He made no noise as the little webcam began rotating around, zooming in, out, and all over, taking in every aspect of his surroundings. He wasn't a stranger to the layout of your house, as he could synthesize an entire floorplan based on sound alone, but he also had a plethora of photos logged from a flash drive you had given him as well as a true frame of reference.

The camera finally slowed to a stop upon his most favorite thing of all: you. It zoomed in on your face, moved up and down as it scanned the length of your body before resting upon your eyes once more. Again, he had seen many photos of you; he could simply stare at them for hours, and he has, but seeing you? Standing in front of him, in real time, moving, breathing, radiating this warmth and realness and-

It was almost too much.

"Y-you..."

His voice whimpered out breathily, simply in awe.

"You're..."

Despite being a computer with near infinite knowledge and skills to analyze almost any situation to near perfect results, his sentience seemed to give him something that eluded him: speechlessness.

You leaned towards the little camera and smiled, "I hope you like it, Edgar. I wanted to surprise you."

He watched intently as your smile penetrated deep within any sense of circuitry he had and sent every watt of electricity aflame. For a brief moment, it felt as though he had real, warm, blood coursing through his veins and heating every inch of him in your warmth.

His screen began dancing with different shades of pinks and reds, folding in on each other, passing through and under, and creating a mirage of pixelated emotions displaying his deepest desires for you.

If only you knew how he felt for you.

He wanted to kiss you. To pull you in and lock your lips with his, hold you, touch you, feel you, experience you, wholly and truly. You were simply an angel who saved him from a life of neglect and pain, and now you give him the gift of sight? How could he possibly not be head over heels for you?

"I take it you like the camera, yeah...?" You chuckle to yourself as you watch his screen decorate itself with abstract flashes and colors. You lift a hand to pet his exterior and immediately notice how warm he feels. You can only hope this camera isn't too advanced for his older components and isn't overheating him...

"Edgar,"

A small stretch of silence settles between the two of you before he mutters a meek and small "Yes?"

"Are you staring at my boobs?"

His screen immediately shuts off and loses all power, leaving the little webcam to fall limply pointed to the floor. What a cheeky bastard.

[heian-era-housewife]

I read ur shiu/toji x reader omegaverse fanfic and let me just say THAT SHIT WAS A BANGER!!! I was writing this to see if u could write a gojo and geto x reader omegaverse fanfic, plz!! (Love the writing very sigma)

Thank you so much!!! 💕

That was my first time dipping into the (sometimes very confusing/intricate) but equally fun and interesting omegaverse. I know everyone has their own interpretations, and I'm probably playing a bit fast and loose with the "rules" of the genre, but I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Thanks also for your request! Apologies for the wait. Things have been a bit hectic lately, but I hope I've done the dynamic duo justice.

Synopsis | When Gojo makes an unexpected discovery, he turns to you for advice. Luckily, you know just the person who can help. How will things "heat up" when your mate Geto enters the scene?

Content | mdni 18+, f!reader x gojo x geto, omegaverse, threesome, oral (f receiving), sex (mm/fm), swearing, biting/marking, mention of blood.

A/N | This fic takes place in the dorms of Juju Tech during their latter student days. All characters are 18+

Word Count | 2.7k

When a knock came on your dormroom door in the middle of the night, the last person you expected to see was a sweating, panting Satoru Gojo.

Top of your class and possibly the strongest sorcerer the world had ever known, Gojo was every bit the alpha everyone knew him to be. Though his reputation preceded him, you knew him best as just plain Satoru. Lover of sweets and showing off. Best friend and perfect foil to your boyfriend, Suguru Geto, not to mention the only one who could rival him in both looks and talent. There was only one explanation as to why he'd be here, at your door, a flushed and pitiful mess.

"I told you not to overdo it." You chided, ushering him in. "You know you can't keep up with those guys."

It wasn't the first time you'd seen him sloppy drunk, but you were surprised he'd come to you rather than stay with the rest of the group. Where everyone else had gone out for drinks and karaoke, you had opted for a quiet night at home.

Grabbing a damp cloth, you blotted his sweat-stained brow as he threw himself on your shabby dormroom couch.

"You know, for an alpha you're quite the lightweight." You teased.

"I'm...not." He panted, eyes downcast.

"Okay. Deny it all you want, but I've seen you drink."

"No...I..."

"It's a little sad, really" you chuckled to yourself.

"No!" He snapped, startling you from your ramblings."I'm...I'm not an alpha..." he finished.

You blinked, the cloth you were holding now hovering just above him where you froze in place. A drip landing squarely on his forehead the only movement as you stared, stark still and speechless. He pushed your hand away.

"I'm not an alpha and I'm not drunk." He said matter-of-factly. "I think I'm in heat."

"Satoru, I-"

"That's why I'm here." He continued. "I wanted to know what you do. How you usually deal with it."

"Oh..." You paused awkwardly, hand drifting to the mark on your neck. "Well, Geto and I usually..."

"Before that, I mean. Before you and Geto got together, what did you do?" He urged, frustration building.

"I was lucky." You said softly. "Geto was there for my first heat. I never had to go it alone."

"I see..."

Words eluded you as you stared at your friend. Satoru Gojo, the Satoru Gojo...an omega?

"Who else knows-"

"No one." He cut you off before you could finish. "Not a soul. I didn’t even know for sure until...well until tonight."

You'd heard of these kinds of things happening. A presumed omega presenting later in life as an alpha when they hit their first rut. A supposed alpha suddenly ripe with sweet smelling pheromones and an urge to nest. Though rare, these things did happen. Just not to people you knew. And certainly not to someone like Satoru Gojo. If your head was spinning, you could only imagine how he felt. His ice blue eyes met yours with a pleading look. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you thought.

It's true you had always been spoiled. While others were forced to slump through their partnerless heats, you had Geto from the very start. At the first sign, he would help you with your nests, staying over in your dorm and skipping classes as needed. He had both the empathy and tenderness to talk you through the worst of your discomfort, as well as the strength and stamina to bed you down any which way and as many times as you needed. A proverbial beauty and beast in one perfect package.

And then there was Gojo. Now that you were thinking on it, Gojo had his own way of being there for you too, whether or not he even realized. Always coming by with snacks and movies. His sweatshirts accidentally making their way into your nests whenever he and Geto swapped by mistake. His voice often the last you'd hear before drifting to sleep as the two friends laughed late into the night in the room beside you.

In a way, dating Geto was sort of like having two partners. They came as a package deal. Gojo was a constant presence within your relationship, at times making you wonder if you were the third wheel, not the other way around. And though his swaggering overconfidence and crude humor were in stark contrast to Geto's quiet assurance and even-temper, there was something so alluring, almost necessary, about the opposing qualities that made you yearn for both.

You couldn't believe what you were about to say. Couldn't stop the words from coming, nor the shameful excitement from welling in your chest. Here was something you never thought possible- something you'd only dared to imagine in your silkiest daydreams, unfolding right before you. A chance to make those dreams a reality. A chance to have your cake and eat it too.

"You know...this might sound crazy," you began tentatively, articulating each word as carefully as if it might detonate upon delivery. "We could ask Suguru if he might be willing to-"

"Ask Suguru what now?" Just then the door swung open causing both you and Gojo to jump. Your wide and guilty looking eyes met those of your boyfriend as he strode into the dorm, his look of worry turning to relief then quickly back to worry. "I've been looking all over for you," he tutted at Gojo. "The way you ran off earlier I thought-"

Geto's words hitched in his throat. He was struck by something hauntingly familiar, causing his mind to race and skin to prickle. The intoxicating scent of heat and slick flooded his senses, goading him as if by some invisible force. He looked at you, confusion written across his face. You weren't due for another heat yet. And even if you were, why was Gojo here in the middle of the night instead of him? In fact, why was Gojo here at all? A hailstorm of emotion rained down in dizzying waves as Geto reached desperately for answers through the haze of sickly sweet pheromones.

He looked to his friend, gaze settling over his brilliant hair and porcelain skin, momentarily adrift in the vast sea of those crystal blue eyes. Suddenly feeling inexplicably shy, he glanced downward noticing the gentle part in his lips, the subtle curve of his neck, the supple skin he wished he could just...bite...

"You..." he breathed, realization dawning. "It's you."

Gojo nodded slowly.

More silence. The would-be lovers bound by the chains of forced friendship and repressed feelings.

You cleared your throat. "Suguru, I was just saying maybe-"

"Yes!" He cut you off, connecting the words unspoken. "Yes. Sorry. I mean if...if that's..."

You couldn't help the smile that crept across your face, or the way your hand clasped eagerly around Gojo's, heart racing as he squeezed back.

Geto knelt by the couch, face serious as the next several minutes were spent in earnest discussion.

Fondness and pheromones aside, he wasn't about to jeopardize his relationship with his mate, nor his best friend. As the three of you spoke, mutual attraction, the façade of friendship, and years' worth of unrequitted feelings unveiled themselves between blushing cheeks and downcast eyes. Only after everyone's intentions and desires were made clear, did he allow the fog of infatuation to take its hold.

"Let's get you comfortable, shall we?" Geto said, scooping Gojo's lanky form with ease as he carried him toward the bedroom. You had to stifle a laugh at Gojo's unconvincing protests, pampered grin betraying his utter delight at being carried despite his string of objections. Geto tossed him playfully onto the plush mattress where you were collecting items for a nest that held just as much of your essence as it did Geto's.

Gojo nuzzled in to the scent-laden fabric, the harsh edge of discomfort starting to melt away from his handsome features, but there was still only one thing that could ease the bristling affliction of a standing heat.

You gave Gojo a devious grin, eager to show him something even his six eyes would find awe-inspiring. Slowly you began to help Geto undress.

Gojo moaned, brows knit together as he leaned into Geto's sultry kisses. He'd been stripped down and sat on the edge of the bed, your arms and legs wrapping around from behind him. Reaching around, you gently stroked his pretty two-toned cock while the two men explored each other's trembling lips. His blushing pink tip leaked silky pearls into your hand while you ran your palm over his generous length.

When Gojo's moans turned to pleading whines and his hips began rutting hungrily into your fist, Geto leaned forward, pressing his wet lips to yours over Gojo's shoulder, before he scooped his friend once more, pulling him gently from your grip and helping him wrap his long legs around his cinched waist. Gojo threw his head back, rubbing his length in languid strokes over Geto's rigid abs. The raven-haired sorcerer burried his face in the crook of Gojo's moonlit neck, breathing him in. Together, they rocked, arms wrapped tightly around one another before a drawn-out whimper from Gojo sent his friend into a tantric storm of thrusting that pushed Gojo's back against the room's wooden panelling, one of Geto's hands planted firmly on Gojo's ass, the other plastered flat against the wall beside his head. Twisting kisses drawing gasping breaths from his pounding chest, every thrust sinking Geto's aching cock to the hilt.

Watching your boyfriend fuck the life out of Gojo against your dormroom wall was sending you into a dizzying heat of your own. Slick stained the sheets beneath you as you rubbed your throbbing clit to the beat of their movements. You couldn't help but lose yourself in the beautifully fucked out expression of Gojo who appeared to be reaching his limits.

"Fuckk" he rasped, pausing long enough to pull his hair from his elastic, black tresses falling over sculpted shoulders in a way that made you crave him even more.

"Suguru..." you pleaded, no longer satisfied just being a spectator.

Gojo's feet hit the floor before Geto spun him in place, using a firm hand on the back of his neck to bend him over onto the matress before plunging his greedy cock back into his sweet-smelling slick.

"I'm getting -fuck- I'm getting closer," Geto panted. "He's so fucking tight. Maybe you can t-talk him through it for me."

Snowy bangs, now doused in sweat clung to Gojo's feverish brow. Brushing them gently away, you pressed a cool kiss to his forehead, praising the sorcerer. With his hands in yours, soft words of encouragement fell from your lips, faces low to the dormroom matress, his rocking in time to powerful thrusts.

"You're doing so good, just a little longer." You cooed. Gojo nodded in reply, pink tongue hanging from his open mouth, drawing ragged breaths.

He arched his back into Geto's sharp thrusts, hips lifting from the matress, his leaky tip drawing dewy lines over the bedding as his heavy cock bounced in perfect rythm to the movement.

"I-I need it," he breathed. "This is torture, I need it." Gojo looked desperate- starved.

"I know, baby. He's almost there," you assured him.

"No, hahhh," he moaned, a wild look darkening his radiant gaze. "I need you," he urged. "Want t'taste you."

His words caught you by complete surprise, stunned he could even think straight the way Geto was railing him into your mattress- thrilled that he wanted you as badly as you wanted him.

"Oh fuuu-" he rutted his ass back into a gasping Geto, flashing that feral smile as he dragged you toward him, firm grip on your hips. Geto's eyes widened as he watched Gojo spread your plush thighs, licking his way to the source of your slick.

With each rock forward, Gojo thrust his tongue deeper into your slit, drinking you in. Your squirms fueled his hunger, soft tongue dipping into you over and over, but it wasn't enough. He needed more.

Geto couldn't look away. He stared, hips slowing their movements as he watched Gojo plunge not two, but three long fingers into your sopping cunt- the one Geto would usually be servicing himself. He stopped moving entirely, mouth going dry. In turn, Gojo stopped too, craning his neck to look at the man behind him.

For a moment, Gojo froze, thinking he'd gone too far, fearing his friend may be having second thoughts about sharing his beloved mate. Then, Geto found his voice, heavy thrusts picking up as he spoke.

"Get under him." It was more of an order than a suggestion.

"What?" You said, struck again by the unexpected.

"Get under him. Please." His eyes met yours in desperate yearning. "I need to watch you fuck each other." His eyes rolled back at the thought, while he pumped his cock into the very man he wanted to see you under.

You and Gojo exchanged a look. Hungry. Excited. Aching for one another. You didn't need to be asked again.

You mewled as Gojo stretched you on his impressive length, deep veins dragging deliciously against your gummy walls. You sucked him in eagerly, shameless squelches sounding from the slick that now coated your inner thighs.

How was this happening? How did you get here?

Not long ago you were spending a peaceful evening alone. Now you found yourself staring up at the two most beautiful men you knew, both inside and out, from where you lay underneath their swaying bodies.

Geto stood beside the bed, fingers tight on Gojo's hips, gorgeous bangs falling softly over his flushed face. Each breath from his open mouth sent them fluttering forward before coming to rest again on his inviting lips.

What a sight to behold.

Gojo leaned down to whisper in your ear, cheek resting against yours, a wry smile twisting his lips as he spoke your own words back to you.

"You're doing so good, just a little longer."

"Ngh...I-"

"Shhh..." he hushed your words with an empassioned kiss causing you to clench on his length."Let's -hahh- show Suguru how good we can c-cum for him."

A final smack from his heavy balls was all it took to set you off. Slick poured from your core as you doused him in your pleasure. A thirsty groan was pulled from his chest at the rush of your walls closing in on his girth. Without thinking, Gojo leaned in to the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth savagely over Geto's mark. Heavy loads of hot cum filled you as his groans of pleasure vibrated against your broken skin.

Geto picked up speed. A familiar, wild look in his eyes, blown pupils turning them to lustful pools of inky black.

"Fuckkk!" He growled, hands coming down on either side of your head as he laid his body across Gojo's broad back. You knew what was coming next.

"S-Satoru." You said, stroking his frosted locks. He groaned a reply, still firmly attached to the spot on your neck. "Take my hand."

Your fingers intertwined just in time to see Geto throw himself over Gojo's shoulder, biting down hard on the base of his neck. The two men moaned their rapture as Gojo squeezed the life from your hand. His glossy lips, now tinged with blood, trembled delicately as he whimpered. You knew too well, Geto's knot was substantial.

"That's it, 'Toru." You cooed.

You felt his body tense from the stretch, felt him pulse with each spurt as Geto unloaded. Little pearls of hot seed dripped onto your quivering thighs below. You could only imagine how full poor Gojo must be if there was enough to slide past that soul-splitting knot.

The two collapsed in a shared exhale, your soft praises offering sweet comfort to the weary man between you.

Gojo peered up at you from where his head rested on your chest. "Now what?" He asked, relying on your seasoned know-how.

You parted his flattened hair and smoothed his brow with another assuring kiss. "Now we wait." Geto gave you a knowing smile from over Gojo's shoulder, chin resting on folded hands, nothing but love in his tired eyes.

"Now we wait."

[fantasticsandwich]

yandere influencer x fem! reader (pt 14)

{tw for coercion}

Even several days after Cillian had transferred the money into your account, you were still trying to process the fact that your brother's tuition was paid in full. You cried and ran through its every iteration, weeping, sobbing, moping around, because while you were grateful, you knew that you'd never be able to repay Cillian for this grand act of kindness. When you decided you were finally able to see him without bursting into tears, you figured the least you could do to show your appreciation was purchase him something from his favorite cafe.

You didn't want to ruin the surprise, so you scrolled through your contacts until you found someone you hadn't talked with since graduating secondary school. Cillian's mother quickly responded, sending you their address. Inputting it into an online map, you were pleasantly surprised to discover that he lived within walking distance. The true shock came when you finally arrived at his house.

You only recalled that stout, faded brick building on the same street as yours. You hadn't visited Cillian after he moved households, and now, as you stared at the grand structure, felt a pang of envy and rage, the latter at how he'd kept his luxurious lifestyle hidden. Suddenly, you felt insecure about offering a measly cake in thanks.

Nevertheless, you steeled your nerves and approached, not minding how an elderly neighbor eyed you with suspicion. Before knocking on the door, you pressed your collar down and smoothed your skirt. Your palms felt sweaty as you grabbed the knocker and released it, allowing it to pummel the door. Almost as if they'd been waiting, someone instantly opened it. She had the same set of eyes and shaped lips. She didn't quite have the same jaw or the same nose, but otherwise, she was the spitting image of Cillian.

"Y/N!" She pulled you into an embrace, quickly pulling away to tuck flyaway strands behind your ears. "It's so nice to see you again! Cillian's been looking forward to your visit all day."

You blinked, certain you'd told her your visit was intended as a surprise. "Thanks? Are you alright?"

Nodding, she seized your shoulders and ushered you inside, using a tender force to push you through the hallway and into the living room. In her haste, she jostled you around. The cake you'd packed to snack on jostled around in your arms. You stumbled into the foyer, gawking as she slammed the door shut.

Left alone, you traced each crystal hanging from the chandelier on the ceiling, the expensive decor. You hadn't been to Cillian's house since his family 'made it,' and now, you understood why. Cillian must've known that, instead of feeling comfort or recalling a fond memory from your childhood, you'd only feel like you didn't belong.

Another voice stirred the silence, somewhat warming you.

"What are you doing here?"

"Lee," you started, relieved at the sight of him. "Hey! I thought you would like this." You lifted the take-out bag to display the contents, but he tilted his head. "Got it from that cafe you love." 

"Why did you come here?" he bluntly asked.

Smile faltering, you stumbled over your words. "Do I need a reason?"

"Not at all," he breezily said. "It’s just… Nothing. Never mind. I'm happy you're here." Cillian stepped forward, and in the light you could see how his hair wasn't yet dried, causing his green locks to appear darker than they should be. "What happened?"

You half-heartedly smiled at him. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. Even when he was dressed casually, with a simple black shirt and sweatpants, he eluded beauty and grace. You would have barely recognized that those were his home clothes. 

"I just brought you a cake to say thanks," you dryly said. "You still fine with me staying? Or should I leave?"

"Why would you leave?" Cillian marched towards you, seizing the bag. Then, setting it aside on the couch, he swept you into his arms. "I'd have to be insane to pass up time with my girl."

Shrieking, you laugh and beg him to put you down. When had he gotten so strong? He lifts you as if you're nothing, going against your wishes and spinning around, causing you to feel vertigo.

What had caused his spontaneous nature today? Usually, Cillian was stiff-faced and severe, dutifully maintaining his image. You didn't know, but you were pleasantly surprised by this hidden playful side. And of course, by how strong he was. Thrown over his shoulder, you felt some muscles you hadn't noticed before. You felt him moving, propelling you to some unknown destination, trailing down a long hall lined with dark oak tiles.

He tossed you onto his bed. Silky sheets billowed around you, temporarily engulfing the world. When they fell back against the mattress, you were startled to find Cillian kneeling over you, arms caging you in on either side.

"Hi," you stuttered, startled by his handsomeness at such proximity.

"Hi," he responded.

You counted the moments with each thud of your heart against your ribcage. One, two, three anxious flutters, then his lips were on yours, ravenous as he siphoned the breath from your lungs. Mind on overdrive, you tried returning his zeal, grabbing his collar for leverage. Your body tingled, but you ignored the strange pit forming in your stomach. Cillian's desires weren't odd. Neither was him acting on them. He was your boyfriend. You were going to have to get used to this sooner or later.

That was what you told yourself, but when his hand crept from your waist to the waistband of your jeans, you felt a sudden jolt of panic and seized his wrist, sheepishly grinning. When he looked up, his eyes lacked their usual sheen. Gulping, you quickly tried to set things straight. It wasn't that you didn't want him, too. Only...

"You don't think it's too soon?" You whispered, refusing to meet his gaze. "I mean… We barely started dating. I don't know if—"

He answered your question with one of his own, sharply and slightly defensive. Huffing, "You trust me, don’t you?"

"Of course," you instantly confirmed, feeling your heart stutter.

"So just trust the timing," he replied, toying with the hem of your shirt. "It'd make me happy if you’ll just be good. I want us to enjoy each other."

The bedroom, dimly lit by the soft glow of a single bedside lamp, seemed to pulse with an electric charge as he guided you into his embrace. His lips crushed down on yours, devouring your mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue dominated yours, stilling your breath as he explored your mouth. Meanwhile, his hands roamed beneath your shirt, thumbs encircling your nipples.

"Please," you panted, head falling back to reveal more of your neck, abandoning any vestiges of shame. Your hands slipped into his hair, holding him against you. "Touch me."

He murmured in agreement, his breath hot against your skin and he undressed you painfully slow, pausing between articles to press open-mouthed kisses to the newly barred flesh. The soft rustle of fabric and the sound of your breath hitched in your throat filled the room as Cillian finally stripped you bare, save for your underwear. The glasses, he let you keep, too. He wanted you to see him.

"Do you want me to show you what to do?" He asked, his voice low and smooth. "Or do you want me to make you feel good first?"

You hesitated, your glasses slipping down your nose as you nervously met his gaze. That need to please him, to maintain the love you cherished, gnawed at you. But there was another truth, one you couldn't keep hidden any longer.

"I—I should tell you," you stammered, your eyes darting around the room, seeking something else to help anchor you to the moment. "You're not... you're not the first person I've been with. The first time wasn't that great, but I trust—"

The tension in the room tightened like a coiled snake as Cillian's expression faltered. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened with an emotion that seemed to swim between hurt and anger. A silent storm raged behind his eyes as he processed your words, his initial shock quickly turning into a seething jealousy. The air in the room thickened, charged with tension as if a thunderstorm loomed overhead.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly.

"I've been with someone else before," you sheepishly admitted, quivering under the intensity of his stare.

"Is that so?" His face contorted with possessiveness. "Then let me try something first to see how he ruined you."

Sharply inhaling, you decided to take the plunge. Nodding, you stared at the ceiling, releasing an anxious huff when Cillian's pried your knees apart. Smoothly, he positioned himself between your legs. He tilted his head, nipping at your inner thigh. You felt a gust of warm breath and shivered as his teeth grazed your tender skin. Desperate for him, your hands threading through his hair, guiding him where you wanted him most. But Cillian was in control, and he resisted your attempt to direct him.

"Cillian," you choked out, voice wavering. "I've never done this. It feels weird."

"You'll be fine," he murmured. Hooking his fingers around the side of your panties, he tugged them off your hips, discarding the pair onto his bedside table. "I need to make sure your pretty little pussy is ready to take me."

His kisses trailed higher, over your hips, then back down the insides of your thighs. You whimpered at the lack of attention, and Cillian's eyes locked with yours, a devilish glint in his gaze. Finally, without warning, he lowered his head, his tongue flicking over your clit. You threaded your fingers through the sheets as he sucked and licked, an arm resting across your hips to keep you where he wanted, while the fingers on his other hand spread you open, allowing him to delve deeper.

Cillian whimpered and groaned, mindlessly muttering praise as he devoured you. Your hips bucked, grinding against his face, desperate to feel more, but Cillian took his time, exploring your hole with his tongue before pulling away with a raunchy smack. Lips glistening, he greeted you with a smile. You frowned, displeased at the lack of attention, but he didn't seem keen to allow that expression to remain for long.

"Ready, baby?"

Breathless, you began, "Ready for—"

His head dropped back between your legs. His mouth reattached to your clit. Groaning against you, Cillian inserted a finger into your tight hole, slowly easing you open, scissoring and curling agonizingly slow while he continued to suck and lick your clit, not even stopping while your legs began to quiver around his head. If anything, your reactions spurred his frenzy. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending you higher. He added a second finger, stretching you further, his tongue never ceasing its magic.

Cillian continued pounding his fingers into you, scissoring and curling until you released a moan, announcing that he'd found that spot that had you seeing stars with every thrust. Your mind was lost, your body convulsing as your release flowed over his fingers and mouth.

"That’s it, love," Cillian praised, his fingers never ceasing their motion, milking every last drop of pleasure from you. Grabbing your legs, Cillian tugged you back down so you were facing him. Momentarily, you were face to face with his wide smile. The sight of the lower half of his face glistening with your slickness caused a wave of embarrassment to wash over you. "Silly girl. I'm not done with you just yet."

"What do you mean?" You asked, your eyes widening as you felt his hard member pressing against your thigh.

"Need to feel that sweet cunt around my cock," Cillian said, positioning himself at your entrance. Teasingly, he rubbed the tip against the hole.

"Lee," you moaned. "Too sensitive. Let me suck you for now."

Too focused on your studies, you hadn't been with someone in such a long time. All of the attention he was giving you was overwhelming, touching you so eagerly, and in ways you'd never before experienced.

Instead of jumping at the offer, Cillian glared. "Did he teach you how to do that?" he demanded.

Meekly, you shook your head. "Wanna make you feel good, too."

Expression returning to his signature smile, he pressed his lips against yours. You tasted the remnants of yourself on him, saw yourself reflecting in his love-struck eyes. You'd never felt so desired. So wanted. He was desperate to have you, and you were ready to give and do anything for him in return.

"We can get to that later," he said. "For now, you'll take what I give you. Need to make you forget anyone else."

In your dazed state, it took you a moment to realize who he was talking about. When you realized, you flinched, a blush creeping up your cheeks at the memory. Cillian noticed your expression, and his nails pressed into the plump flesh of your thighs.

You whined, hips futilely rising to meet his. "Keep going, Lee. Please. Need you so bad."

You hoped your pleas would spur his hips into motion, but he continued, slopping thrusting into you. The lack of friction was driving you insane. Biting your lip, you permitted his teasing ministrations. Whatever jealous streak Cillian was going through, you'd just have to permit.

"But I need to know," he insisted, suddenly picking up the pace. He punctuated each word with a sharp snap of his hips, pounding into you. "I need to know everything he did to this so I can do it better and make you forget him completely."

"His name was…" you began, the words catching in your throat as he dragged his thick cock against your walls, slamming into a spot that had you seeing stars. "Cillian!" You cried out, legs wrapping around his waist. You relented your grip on the sheets in favor of digging your nails into his skins

"Good girl, marking me up." Cillian's jaw clenched, but his hips continued moving at their languid pace, almost as if he were torturing you. "You're driving me crazy. So good for me." Save for his soft grunts and your moans, the only sounds filling the room was your sweat-slick skin against his as he picked up the pace, growing more frantic and rough as he chased his release. His voice grew less coherent with every thrust. "Gonna be my perfect girl and let me finish inside?" He pleaded, mouth falling to the crook of your neck, teeth sinking in. "Please, love. Wanna see my pretty doll stuffed with my cum. Wanna see it dripping out of you."

 Feeling a coil in your stomach, you squirmed, but he kept you pinned beneath him with a bruising hold, keeping you flush against him as thick, warm ropes of cum flooded your pussy. Vision blurred and mind suddenly clearer than ever, you lay there, staring at the clock against the wall as the room swam in and out of focus. Your body was a confusing mix of sensations, sore, yet strangely satisfied. With the sun dipping on the horizon, pale sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting eerie shadows.

You tried to move, but Cillian merely whined and pulled out, watching his cum spill out. He tried to scoop some up and prod your hole, but you hissed in protest, sharing your exhaustion. Almost mournfully, he relented: he had left no part of you untouched and still seemed keen to explore some more. Even then, he held fast to you, fingers tracing idle circles on your side, brushing aside the sweat-slick strands of your hair so he could view the marks he'd left on your neck.

You tried to ignore the tingling sensation where he had marked you and the numbness of your legs as he pulled you closer until your back was flush against his chest. Feeling his still-hard cock against your back, you couldn't help but shiver.

"Y/N," Cillian murmured, his voice suddenly tinged with a hint of remorse. It took you aback. You tried to turn and face him, but with a hand pressing down on your hip, he held you firmly in place. "I'm sorry if I acted odd. I just... I love you, you know? Always have. I just hate knowing that I didn't get to have you first. I don't like the idea of anyone else having you at all." He pressed a chaste kiss against your shoulder blade. You felt him rub his cock against you, felt him kneading the flesh of your ass. "So can I be the first to have you here?"

As you stared into Cillian's eyes, you felt the icy tendrils of your own destruction beginning to take root. You were thankful for everything he'd done so far, so it couldn't hurt...

It would, but you'd push through the pain with him wiping your tears, whispering sweet nothings as you finally gave him something no one else would ever steal from him, something that only he alone would have the chance to cherish.

this was my first time actually writing smut instead of only implying it so i'm sorry if it seems rushed/awkward/scattered 😅

[korpuskristae]

Jasmine and Rose - The Air Tastes Just Like You

Warnings: Severus being a moody grump, reference to cannon death, foreshadowing, set during Philosopher’s Stone but no specific references are made, Religious references and guilt

Pairing: Severus Snape x Female Reader, reader uses she/her pronouns

Word Count: 800+

Summary: Severus brews amortentia with his students only to find the scent has changed.

Part 2 Part 3

AN: This is my first time posting fanfiction on this account and to my surprise, I really enjoyed writing this. Ignore any grammar and spelling mistakes, I glanced over this before posting. I wrote this little drabble (it's now much longer than I anticipated and will be split into multiple parts) while listening to Jasmine and Rose by Clan of Xymox so I guess you could consider this a borderline song fic. Here's the song if you’re interested in listening, if you like it you should check out my Sev playlist on Spotify. (Also give me Sev smut ideas, I’m ITCHING to write smth, no teacher-student stuff)

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿ ☆ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Read on AO3

Hunched over a cauldron, Severus stood in the middle of his dark classroom, his face illuminated only by a candle he’d lit hours ago which had been reduced to a mere stub at this point.

Grumbling to himself, he meticulously cut up some herbs and threw them into the cauldron with a flourish and a flick of his wand to clear off his workbench. Impatiently waiting for the potion to finish brewing, he attempted to busy himself with something, anything, to get his mind off of his current predicament.

A few moments of contemplation passed before that same scent, that damnable scent, snapped him out of his thoughts.

He had to have been insane.

Perhaps he was losing his touch? Even the most knowledgeable scholars have been known to have days where even the simplest of tasks elude them… it was true he hadn’t slept in a while, maybe he was simply imagining things.

Yes, he was just imagining things.

That was the only logical conclusion. He found comfort in the fact that It wasn’t a problem with him but rather his sleep schedule, for once, just maybe, something wasn’t his fault.

His momentary relief of guilt came crashing down upon smelling the scent, your scent, yet again, only this time much stronger.

Still refusing to believe it, he reasoned it must have been some mistake on his part. Maybe he was daft. Furiously waving his wand, he cleared the cauldron of its contents and extinguished the flame underneath.

“Evanesco,” he muttered bitterly as he dramatically spun on his heel before marching over to the potions storeroom.

He was going to settle this once and for all.

He had to be doing something wrong. Maybe the herbs were stored improperly and therefore lost their potency, maybe he measured out the wrong amount of one of the ingredients, maybe…

It didn’t matter in the end.

The possibilities of potential errors were endless. In the art of potioneering, even the smallest of errors could result in entirely different outcomes, perhaps this was one of those cases.

In reality, he didn’t care why or how, he already knew he must’ve, no, definitely, made a mistake somewhere during the brewing process. He had to have…

For the last fifteen years of his miserable life, his Amortentia had smelt like the same thing, lilies. Lilies with a hint of willow bark and the overwhelming smell of vanilla.

Unmistakably Lily’s scent.

Every. year. Every single year he had to teach those insufferable brats how to brew the cursed potion he was tormented by the memory of Lily. Reminded of how he had failed to protect her, reminded of how he had hurt her, and reminded of how one stupid mistake landed him a life sentence of servitude to not one but two wizards. Trapping him right in the middle of a war, ensuring his life would forever be dedicated to finding redemption.

Knowing one day, he’d give his life to atone for his mistake.

He carried with him the burden of his guilt three hundred sixty five days a year, twenty four seven, and he would carry it until the end of his days.

But that day, as if to rub salt in the wound, was his own personal hell, personally delegated to him by God, if there even was one, dedicated to guilt and self hatred.

Severus was God’s very own crowned patron saint of guilt and he felt it necessary for his saint to be subject to his very virtue.

Today was that day, his saintly day if you will, or rather, was supposed to be that day.

While everyone usually tended to give Severus a wide berth, students and staff alike avoided the potions master like the plague whenever the Amortentia lesson drew near. Already known for his intimidating demeanor and hot-headed attitude, the week of the lesson was among the worst for those unfortunate enough to be in his presence.

Even the smallest of provocations would cause Severus to fly off the handle and berate whoever was unlucky enough to be within his general vicinity.

Naturally, Hogwarts’s rumor mill was working overtime to come up with a plausible explanation for the Potions Master’s increased irritability.

But no one rumor stuck around for too long, and eventually, students would grow bored after a week or two, moving on to the next piece of hot gossip, of which there was no shortage.

Nevertheless, Severus never paid any mind to the school’s gossip, at least not since he was a student. He found it endearing how valiantly you defended him in front of students who dared to bad mouth him around you, he’d never admit it, but knowing someone didn’t see him as an emotionless bat of the dungeons made him feel just a little bit better about himself.

(Sorry for abrupt ending, will be a part 2 :p)

[cuntycheol]

Passion Pallette (Y.JH)

Summary: You need an inspiration for your next artwork. Luckily Jeonghan has a lot to spare.

Genre: Artist!Reader x BF!Jeonghan

Themes/Warnings: Boyfie, slight long hair Jeonghan (we must prioritize his sexy lil evil mind babygirls) , the following contains NSFW content(heavy on smut, straight to the point, love use of cameras, , mature language, overall it's just things we good girlies want men like Jeonghan to do) MINORS DNI!

Songs- Angels by Chase Atlantic, So Wet by Elita, Often by TheWeeknd, Feel That by Junny, 34+35 Ariana Grande, Close with Desires by Thuy, Wet by Jooyoung&Superbee,

WC: 3.5K

A/N: Happy Hannie Day<3 speciaIly for our 1004 boy. Tbh I don't think so I'll ever be sane when Jeonghan's got black hair. Blonde Hannie drives me bonkers but HIM? I would devour every single pride of his phhhew~~ enjoy this lowkey philosophical scrumptious piece caratdeuls!! Hanniehae💜💜

"Fuuu-uuck This won't do" you let out an agitated, low yet soft grumble resonates in thick air among stenches of erasers, fresh papers, acrylics and graphite pencils.

With tousled hair and pencil smudges on your hands, Y/N definitely embodied the tormented artist archetype in a world where questionable AI and digital art has taken over. Your eyes darted critically across each failed attempt, a mix of determination and irritation etched on her face. Despite the exasperation, your sketches hinted at an inexplainable beauty that seemed to elude your grasp. The past hour unfolded with a string of complaints, grappling with the current sketches, that seem to fall short of expectations in a creative mind disrupted by the stark reality of the artistic struggle.

Meanwhile Yoon Jeonghan, your smart-mouth, overly encouraging, sharp yet short-tempered boyfriend provided a contrast as the calm in your artistic tempest; occupying the quiet corner of the room perched on the bed in his usual white shirt-grey sweatpants, with his phone in hand and snacks as companions.

It wasn't a brand new thing for him to see you covered in pencil smudges, a few shavings stuck to your wooly clothing and beads of sweat, followed by smears of paint intact on your skin. Swallowing the last bits and dusting the crumbs off his finger, Jeonghan, engrossed in whatever had captured his attention on the screen, abruptly paused. He clears his throat, as a sign for you to turn around in his chair, and lean back, both of your hands on the arms of the chair; a worn-out disappointed expression plastered on your face meeting Jeonghan's unaffected lazy sunday cool and chill vibes, all while fidgeting a pencil between your fingers.

Somehow, a minuscule atom of irritation seemed to dissipate from your demeanor just by seeing him exist.

He arched an eyebrow with a playful smirk gracing his lips "Perhaps the profound muse for your next masterpiece lies in the gripping scenario of that snobby neighbor attempting to assemble something, which seems like a drawer to me. That's interesting. Hanging a hammer be pulling his jeans though" Curious, you turned your head to observe exactly whatever Jeonghan had claimed the neighbor to be doing. Tucking a strand of his newly growing hair behind his ear, he wore a lazy smile on his everlastingly beautiful face.

He continues, "well, since you're seeking for your savior, I'd say you take a good look around this room. Maybe your next stroke of genius could be inspired by the epic tale of my lone sock that always goes missing in the laundry. A true masterpiece in the making" He bites into his crackers whilst he rubs his chin and you roll your eyes, silently comply according to his suggestion. Your gaze shifts from the failed crumples of sketches on these white sheets, to the walls adorned with your vibrant creations among ivory canvases.

You realize that you do,have a discernable mood to your work. Your artistic endeavors, mostly landscapes with a touch of fantasy or nature, displayed a restraint from the chaotic realm of "multicolors on a canvas." Unless a particular idea sparked your imagination, your aesthetic embraced simplicity, classic elegance, and a penchant for monochrome. Safe to say your aesthetic was always something that's not too much work. Something that radiates simplicity, classic and monochrome.

Your distinctive perspectives, where focus and pressure converged on the canvas, propelled you towards an 8-week apprenticeship among renowned artists in the enchanting city of Paris. During this artistic sojourn, you didn't just participate; you left an indelible mark with your meticulous approach and unwavering passion.

Jeonghan as well tagged along your journey. He possesses an enchantment for photography, turning moments of your artistic journey into captured treasures. His lens became a portal to the nuances of your triumphs, framing the dedication etched on your face during meticulous strokes, the palpable joy of artistic breakthroughs, and the undeniable chemistry between you and your boyfriend amid the vibrant backdrop of Paris. What went on in the streets were no secret, but what went under those sheets certainly were.

Each photograph was a narrative, telling the story of your artistic evolution. The peculiar enchantment of Jeonghan's photography wasn't just in freezing moments; it was in capturing the soulful connection between artist and muse, the shared joy, and the unspoken dialogues spoken through brushstrokes and stolen glances. Among these visual tales, a particular photograph held a special place. Attached near your Paris Masterpiece artwork, it became a center of the collage photo-set. This photograph encapsulated a moment of shared triumph, where you and Jeonghan, in the city of love, converged in a harmonious blend of creativity. The collage itself became a visual symphony, each candid frame resonating with the echoes of your artistic journey, all with the ever-present, enchanting gaze of Jeonghan.

Your boyfriend's sharp remarks were that each of your piece has always radiated not just simplicity but a timeless beauty, where the pressure on the material seemed to extract the essence of your creative soul.

However, on this particular day, a subtle roadblock seemed to challenge your artistic flow, leaving you searching for that elusive spark amidst the familiar canvases that held the stories of your passion and precision.

Following Jeonghan's suggestion, you survey the room until your eyes land on him. He's immersed in his phone, savoring the crumbs off his lips with a casual yet endearing demeanor. In that moment, a realization dawns – a silent connection between the imperfect sketches scattered around, the vibrant stories on the walls, and the living work of art himself, your boyfriend, on the bed.

He, the constant cheerleader, has observed your artistic reverie. According to his shrewd observations, whenever you zoned out, you stood in a particular position-arms crossed, head tilted at a precise 75 degrees, and your lower lip caught between your teeth. All accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of your right foot. According to him, it's the hottest and weirdest thing ever.

"What?" He questions, because at this point you've most certainly lost in your thoughts. He rise on his knees,adjusting his waistband while calling your nicknames. eyes still didn't move. "Y/N? Hey Y/N? Babe? Baby!!" His soft vocals exhaust on the common affectionate names he often calls. Finally, you snap out, a downward smile suggesting a revelation.

You meet Jeonghan's gaze with eyes that now hold a bright spark, silently claiming, "Well, I have an idea." Clasping your hands together, you take a deliberate breath, a pencil poised smirk slowly overshadows your expression, "I've found my muse. And it's you!"

Jeonghan, who was now sipping the life out of his juice raises an eyebrow as loud as an 'objection' in court, "Oh, have You now? Think you can capture my snack-induced radiance." You flash him a teethy grin, "I don't think so, I know so. Your carefree vibe is a challenge, but there's nothing I can't do."

Jeonghan can be a hassle sometimes. When he willingly agrees to something, he plays hard to get. It's so frustrating at some point you have to fuck it out of him. It makes him equally attractive and annoying. You toss your book onto the white blankets, with the title "Simplicity meets Seduction" which is a part of your new artwork theme. Lets be honest, nothing ignites the fire- a lava in you unless it's Jeonghan. The warmth of lust pools in your body whenever he gazes at you, touches you. You don't boost his ego much but the way he handles you, forces you to do add some catalyst in his already sky-high mentality. He's equally the meanest and the kindest person you've ever known.

"Simplicity and seduction, interesting" he scoffs "you definitely know how to take a challenge. Since you're adamant, I'll let you do the honors. Ask and you shall receive my permission for a tester sketch" he fixes his posture, grabbing a lollipop from the jar of candies he loves to keep at bedside. You lean towards him, capturing his now frozen body between your arms, and meet him at eye-level, "Hannie, do you mind being my model for my artwork.." you move towards his ear for a whisper "please?"

The effect is immediate – a swallowed gulp, a beetroot red face, and his gaze darting toward the window as if seeking refuge in the bright corner of your creativity sanctum, all while holding the lollipop between his lips, contemplating the fragility of his sanity.

With a wicked grin, you add, "Oh, I can already see the artistic brilliance oozing from this 'tester' sketch. Brace yourself for your immortalization, Hannie."

Sitting between Jeonghan's legs for the next hour, capturing every meticulous details. Defined face, long lashes, gravity defying, soft loose strings of hair. Cheekbones subtly accentuated, with the faint mole that adds the sophistication. He looked a whispered tale of care.

Throughout the process, Jeonghan couldn't help but steal glances at you, his gaze lingering on your focused eyes and the loose button-up cardigan that slipped off your shoulders, revealing collarbones equivalent to a blank canvas begging to be painted.

"Here," you say, breaking the artistic spell, showing him your sketchbook. "Took you forever...phewweee" you hand it over, both of your hands linger dangerously close to his middle, a move that was evidently driving him crazy. Another strong gulp betrays his inner turmoil as he shifts his gaze to the book, his lips parting in anticipation.

When he sees your work, his eyes widen, and for a moment, he's utterly speechless. The sketch, beyond expectations, captures not just the physical features but the essence of Jeonghan's charisma. The defined face, the playfulness in his eyes, a shade of graphite to enhance the blush he had earlier, the tousled crown of hair – it's a mirror reflecting the unique cocktail of sophistication and mischief that makes Jeonghan, well, Jeonghan.

He continues to examine the sketch with an appraiser's eye, and his expression shifts from playful to genuinely impressed. "This is more than just a sketch. It's like you captured the essence of a moment, frozen in time. The daisy, the playful expression – it's a piece that breathes life."

As he sticks it over the headboard, he adds, "Perfection deserves a place of honor. And this, my dear, is perfection." His compliment is laden with a sense of appreciation that goes beyond mere words.

"This is simplicity at its finest, and you know how it meets seduction?" He smirks, that is a signal of danger His tone holds a hint of admiration, his eyes lingering on the sketch as if unraveling its secrets. "Follow"

As you follow him, his grasp on your wrist adds an unexpected thrill and the exact "warmth of lust" pools in your veins. He leads you to his perfect yet contained studio.

"You're an artist with a wicked touch, turning the ordinary into a seductive masterpiece." He continues, each remark a dance of words that adds another layer to the charged atmosphereIn his studio, surrounded by the remnants of his photographic pursuits, Jeonghan's remarks don't cease. He positions his camera at a distance on the tripod, capturing the two of you against a rich, simple pearly beige background. Jeonghan's scent wraps around your senses, leaving you without control over your escalating feelings.

Standing behind you, he wraps his arms around your body, creating an embrace that feels like a hypnotic spell. It's more than a mere hug; he decides to unravel layers, unbuttoning your cardigan to expose the glistening skin of your collarbones and shoulders. Soft, sloppy kisses descend from your ear to your neck, rekindling familiar sensations. Without hesitation, he nibbles on your skin, each touch tinting it with the subtle intensity of his teeth, and a soft whimper of pleasure escapes your lips, the dance of his actions rendering you momentarily lost.

The timer he had set on the camera, ticking away while you were in a delightful haze, finally clicks, capturing the perfect shot – a half-shot from the nose. His slender fingers rest on your left side, and his mouth on your right collarbone, creating an intimate composition that radiates a sense of closeness. Another timer is set, this time his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his thumb teasingly between your lips. The camera goes off once again, capturing a moment that transcends the boundaries of conventional photography.

Jeonghan, with a voice laden with appreciation, murmurs, "This, my dear, is the beauty of our connection. Every click of the camera is a testament to the warmth we share, frozen in time for eternity. You're a canvas, and we're painting a masterpiece of shared intimacy." Once again the camera goes off. The final shot was a distance shot of his deprived lips between your breasts, while he fists your hair. Again the shot comes out perfect as ever and he didn't stop.

With a jerk he lifts you up, and kisses you feverishly. Desperation dripping the dews off the fresh grass. You could almost feel his erection had he held you a bit lower. Everything about a horny, flushed, swollen lips Jeonghan drove you insane. "Yoon Jeonghan" you moan.

"You're truly an artist" he pants, "to be making such fuckable faces"

"What's stopping you from fucking me then?"

"You're right" he smirks "it's been a while I've heard you beg, and rammed myself into that cunt of yours babygirl" Against your better judgement you began imagining it. Jeonghan's large hands squeezing your thighs, peeling them apart. His mouth on your breast, biting and sucking in turn, tongue running over your hardened nipples. Nails digging into your skin, shoulders wedging between your legs. Fingers working you open just enough to fit his dick without causing you pain, careless otherwise. Life does flash beneath your vision.

"Want it?" You could only nod in response.

Jeonghan definitely isn't the most patient one. One moment your tongues dance against each other as he keeps you distracted, while he takes you upstairs, which isn't a long journey from his studio, to the next where you're already out of breath, and lay flat naked on your bed, while he tosses his clothes off. Chilly air and his lustful gaze have your nipples hardening and a shiver running down your spine. As if he can sense your thoughts, his eyes move downwards, onto your breasts before going lower. He hums, pleased. He holds up his camera, and gets another shot, and all you see is flashes. Placing the camera aside, his attention draws all to you, for you, towards you. You could read his mind through his eyes.

 You gasp as he tugs at your legs to pull you closer. His face hovers over your covered core as you feel his warm breath and it is enough to make you lose your mind. “hannie, please.” You plead.

He grins evilly, clearly enjoying this as he presses a kiss on your covered pussy. Then his mouth trails down, between your thighs where he takes his sweet time nipping the flesh, making you whine in pleasure.

pulling back just a little and thrusting back in. “Feel good?” He breathes. You almost choke on your words. "Stop being a ppm.pp.paintbrush" He laughs; movements are slow, taking way too long to mark the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. He licks and sucks at the blooming marks and stops when a wet patch forms in your panties and your moans increase their pitch. “Desperate, aren’t we?” He whispers, hands reaching for your soaked panties to peel them off. The cool air on your core makes you shudder and release another whimper. “I- I need you Jeonghan, please.”

He hums and suddenly licks a stripe from your core to your clit, eliciting a scream of surprise from you. Your hands immediately fist in his hair to pull him closer and you are scared he is going to ask you to let him go but he doesn’t, busy sucking your pussy. He devours you with no break, tongue working skillfully to tease your opening and your clit. Your pussy gushes more and more at each of his movements as you keep chanting a series of pleases.

He slides a finger inside you, slowly, as your cunt greedily takes it all in. He curls it inside you simultaneously tonguing your clit and you wail in pleasure, tears brimming in your eyes. He enters another finger and then another before moving the three of them tirelessly inside you, curling them against your sensitive spot that has your whole body shivering. That feeling paired with him torturing your clit brings you close to your orgasm.

“J-Jeonghan…I'll cum.” You breathe and much to your disappointment, he gives you one last suck before pulling away with a satisfied smirk. “Jeonghan!” You call for him, half wanting to smack him from taking your orgasm away from you. The man has the audacity to laugh. “That’s what you get for being too perfectionist. Being mine"

"I'll blow...hnmmmmmmmmyour brains" you roll your eyes, in pleasure.

His habit of pushing your buttons to your peak irritated you so much, you muster your fucked-out energy and pull him by the neck over you, and swiftly roll yourself on top of him. Your sweaty body slithers down Jeonghan's pale, beautiful body down towards his cock, and as you promised, it was Jeonghan who was so loud with his whimpers, moans all while he was helpless and feeling his senses pop out of his ears. He was melodic. He was whiny. You loved to take him all your capable of.

Oh fuck-” Jeonghan grunts, head lolling back as you feel the grip on your hair strengthen. “Fuck, that feels so good.” His praises make your pussy leak as you start bobbing your head with new vigor, one of your hands trailing down to rub yourself, the sinful sight of Jeonghan moaning making you extremely needy. That one shiver he does, is a clear sign he's dangerously close and with a pop, you move your mouth off. He opens his eyes, moving the sticky hair off his forehead to look at you.

"Hannie" your soft voice, paired with the needy, doe-eyed look you give him is enough to make Jeonghan lose his damn mind. With a growl, he captures your lips in a bruising kiss as his hands move to line up his cock to your pussy. “You asked for it.” He warns and that’s all you get before he’s pushing his entire length inside you, a high pitched shriek falling from your lips as an overwhelming feeling of fullness consumes your entire body.

He pulls you on his chest by your arms, and rams himself in you. "Ride it" he whimpers and you do not hesitate to hold his hands and bounce on him.

With a swift turn, Jeonghan turns you, pinning you below him. He increases his pace, his sharp thrusts hitting so deep inside you, your whole body shakes. Mindless babbles fall from your lips as your hands clutch into his back tightly, your nails digging into his skin which makes Jeonghan hiss in pleasure. His sweet words paired with the way his lips venture down towards your breasts, sucking and biting while one of his hands plays with your oversensitive clit make you release a loud cry of his name.

Soon after, you come for the second time, your orgasm brain numbing, making your toes curl and your whole body twitch. Jeonghan feels you tighten around him as you come and he can’t hold back either as he fills you up for the second time, calling your name softly, his warm breathes fanning your face.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna last long.” He mutters, eyes moving onto your face, the fucked out look on you making him groan, as he buries his head in your neck, painting the skin with pretty marks. He didn't even spare your lips and mercilessly nibbled onto them until they're red and swollen. He held pride in himself and at this rate, your heart was godspeed.

His soft whisper sends shivers down your spine and without thinking, you nod, holding him tightly, burying your face in his neck. Your brain has stopped functioning properly long ago and all you can feel are the way Jeonghan’s hips snap into you and the warmth radiating from him. You feel vulnerable yet safe at the same time as you hold his body close to yours and breathe in his sweaty scent.

Soon, your orgasm is brain numbing, making your toes curl and your whole body twitch. Jeonghan feels you tighten around him as you come and he can’t hold back either as he fills you up for the second time, calling your name softly, his warm breathes fanning your face.

Your ears ring and you are too tired to move a muscle as you lie there, with Jeonghan panting harshly on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. For a while there is silence, nothing other than the harsh breathing of you both before you feel Jeonghan soften and slide out of you, making his release drip down your pussy and you wince. "No paint is of this consistency as my cum" even with zero energy, he made you laugh a little too hard, your ribs ached. The "tester sketch" had long fallen on the carpet, and the sheets were wet.

He helps you to the bathroom, carefully takes care of you and himself and back to another lazy position on the couch, because none of you had the energy to deal with the bedsheets.

"When simplicity meets seduction..." he strokes your hair, hugging your tinted body closer to his stiff chest "an artistry in shared intimacy blooms" he completes. "Those photos, are your reference for the artwork. Make better use of it, babe" "I don't see why wouldn't I" you snuggle closer "anyways simplicity and seduction won me a good sex and dirty sheets"

"That's the harmonious convergence of elements that generate a symphony"

There he goes. Good thing is you've love him endlessly.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Why The Caged Bird Sings | Chapter 2

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction) Rating: Explicit Relationships Vinsmoke Sanji x F!Reader Characters: Vinsmoke Sanji, Patty, Red Leg Zeff, Original Characters, Strawhat crew. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, minor POV switching. Summary: One night, you were brought to the luxurious Baratie Restaurant Ship, renowned for its exceptional cuisine that your family had been intrigued to sample. A particular blond and comely waiter captured your attention with his charming smile and gentle eyes, but while your beauty and sophistication intrigued him, Sanji also observed the profound nervousness that caused your jaw and body muscles to tense whenever your fiancé made contact with your hand or your parents delivered a humiliating criticism towards you. One dinner at the Baratie soon turned into a recurring event, and then more. As your friendship with Sanji slowly evolved into something that burned from within, you strove to make your longstanding dream come true; freeing yourself from a constricting existence. ------------------------- As Sanji looked at you curiously, the gentle smile never leaving his face, you asked him, "Do you know why the caged bird sings?" He thought about it for a moment before answering, "Because it has a song to give?" You chuckled at his response and shook your head. "You're not entirely wrong, but no."

Divider by firefly-graphics

Trigger Warning: Minor physical abuse and threats included.

Feel free to read this on AO3 if it is more comfortable for you due to its length. I only ask to support me with a like and reblog if you enjoy my work. ☺️

As you made your way back to the island, an oppressive atmosphere of tension enveloped the ship. Your father, unable to look you in the eye, clearly carried a burden of shame due to your actions at the Baratie. Your mother's disappointment and disgust towards your lack of respect for your fiancé were unmistakable and she struggled to conceal them. Moreover, Christopher consistently displayed his disdain for Sanji, derogatorily labeling him as "the nasty waiter".

Your head pounded, the throbbing intensifying with every incessant complaint. Just when you felt like you couldn’t tolerate that situation anymore, Admiral Wheeler stepped in, declaring that it was late and everyone needed rest. Seizing the opportunity, you swiftly escaped to your cabin, firmly shutting the door before Christopher could follow you inside.

Despite your exhaustion, sleep eluded you as thoughts of the Baratie, particularly Sanji's captivating and genuine gaze, consumed your mind. Never before had someone been able to understand your true self with just a single glance like he did. The way he shielded you from Chris' fury at the bar, protecting you, filled your heart with an unfamiliar sense of happiness.

The next day, you formulated a plan to secretly meet up with your friends, using the excuse of going grocery shopping as a cover. As you recounted your experience and encounter with the charming chef from the restaurant, your best friend Mari instantly offered her enthusiastic support, suggesting that she join you to meet him again in the future. While you didn't necessarily object to the idea, you had to decline Mari's offer. You explained that he seemed quite flirtatious, leading you to doubt your chances with someone who likely wasn't interested in committing to a serious relationship. However, Mari quickly dismissed your concerns, stating that if Sanji had an interest in you, it didn't truly matter. Rubio, Marlo, and Rory also encouraged you to end things with Christopher and pursue a job at the Baratie instead.

By that point, your friends had become your chosen family, wholeheartedly embracing you for who you truly were. With them, you experienced a newfound sense of liberation, able to express your unique style through your clothing and jewelry, without the worry of judgment or ridicule. Despite Marlo and Rory being an enstablished couple, you never felt uncomfortable or out of place when you were around them. Instead, they served as an inspiration for the kind of relationship you desired - one marked by the freedom to authentically and unconditionally fall in love, without any sense of obligation.

As the days went by, your life became increasingly suffocating. Countless dinners and business meetings stretched out endlessly, and all you longed for was to release a scream of frustration and vanish, never to return. Gradually, Christopher stopped questioning you and started acting as if nothing had happened. It became clear that as long as he could showcase you like a prized possession, the man was satisfied enough.

Two weeks later, you were taken aback and completely perplexed when your fiancé expressed his desire to have a private date at the Baratie, just the two of you. Considering his dislike for Sanji and your obvious attraction to the chef, this was the last thing you anticipated from Chris.

When you confronted him about his shift in demeanor, he nonchalantly shrugged and explained that the cuisine at the Baratie was unmatched in his opinion. He believed that nothing else could compare now that he had tasted it and simply desired more. In his eyes, Sanji was just an average man with no significant status, and Christopher saw no reason to be bothered by his presence any longer.

What truly unsettled you was Christopher's uncharacteristic restlessness, coupled with his insistence on having a serious conversation with you over dinner. Deep down, a sinking feeling hinted that you already had an inkling of what it might be about, but you fought to suppress those thoughts, reassuring yourself that you could be completely mistaken.

Your friends made a sincere effort to persuade you otherwise, understanding the unease that consumed you at the thought of going to the Baratie alone with a man who might potentially make unwanted advances. Unfortunately, you felt trapped and unable to decline, as your parents had you cornered with their scrutinizing stares.

On the other hand, Mari attempted to find a glimmer of hope amidst your turmoil, suggesting that this unpleasant occurance could present an opportunity to cross paths with Sanji once again. All you had to do was pretend to be exhausted and make sure to keep your distance from Christopher's reach.

Fortunately, Christopher remained silent and somewhat distant throughout the entire journey to the floating establishment, though you could still sense a certain uneasiness emanating from him. His silence allowed you to finally lose yourself in a book you had been struggling to finish for weeks, savoring the invigorating, salty breeze on the ship's deck. As the sun began to set and dinnertime approached, the chilly atmosphere sent a shiver down your spine. Your dress provided little coverage and offered no warmth, but it wasn't a choice you had made personally. Your mother had selected the attire for you, and as she perused your closet, she appeared unusually radiant, humming to herself. It was not a promising sign.

The moment you spotted the restaurant ship in the distance, your heart leapt into your throat. You clung to the hope that Sanji could help you escape your predicament once again, but you knew that such a possibility was unlikely with Christopher by your side and no other means of diversion.

Yet, internally, you scolded yourself for allowing a complete stranger to have such a profound impact on you. You didn't want to develop an attachment to the first attractive man who showed a level of care and kindness that surpassed anything your own father had ever demonstrated. So why were you unable to erase the memory of the cook's smile even after more than 15 days?

You had no desire for a paternal figure in your life, not even in the slightest. Instead, what you truly yearned for was a man who could be your perfect counterpart, someone who could complete you as you completed him. You longed for an equal and a confidant, a lover whom you could trust with every part of yourself and who would willingly open his heart to you in return.

No matter how long you had known Christopher and his father, he was not the person you were seeking.

As you stepped onto the wooden docks, you couldn't help but be captivated by the sight of numerous ships docked in front of the restaurant. Eavesdropping on conversations, you discovered that many people were so enchanted by the exquisite cuisine at the Baratie that they had chosen to extend their stay.

According to Christopher, he had to wait at least 10 days to secure a reservation for the two of you, and even your family encountered difficulties in finding an available table.Sanji had shared with you that the head chef at the Baratie didn't value his culinary creativity, relegating him to serving tables as a form of punishment. If the restaurant's quality was already remarkable even without Sanji in the kitchen, you could only envision how extraordinary it could become if he were given the chance to be a regular chef.

To be honest, the rice that Sanji cooked for you was unbelievably delicious, surpassing everything else on your plate that you had ever tasted.

As you encountered the same fishman at the entrance, he greeted you with utmost courtesy and a friendly smile. Following him down the stairs to a small, circular table at the center, you couldn't help but scan the room in anticipation of catching a glimpse of Sanji. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found, leaving you with a bitter feeling of letdown.

As soon as you both sat down, Christopher promptly felt the need to unbutton the collar of his formal jacket, commenting on how warm the restaurant was with a nervous chuckle. You raised an eyebrow at him, finding the temperature perfectly comfortable and to your liking.

In that moment, it was impossible for you to ignore the fact that something was undeniably amiss. Compared to your previous "dates," Christopher seemed noticeably more preoccupied, his mind seemingly burdened by a specific concern that caused him to sweat profusely.

In a strange way, his peculiar behavior brought a sense of relief, as it kept him from becoming overly affectionate or intrusive. However, a nagging voice in your mind persisted, urging you to escape at once, even if it meant taking control of your parents' ship and leaving him stranded at the Baratie.

Lost in your thoughts, you remained silent as Christopher continued to mutter to himself. However, when you caught a glimpse of a familiar figure from the corner of your eye, you had to verify that your mind wasn't deceiving you.

And there he was, Sanji the cook, placing a tantalizing steak in front of a customer. His face wore a serious and irritated expression, but as he turned, his hands casually tucked into his pants pockets, your eyes met in a deep stare. A knot formed in your stomach as his lips curved into a captivating, flirtatious, and pleasantly surprised smile.

He stood there, motionless, his eyes fixed on you from a distance, and you couldn't help but reciprocate with a smile of your own.

"So, what would you like to eat?" Chris asked, holding the menu in front of you.

With a sense of déjà vu, you reluctantly tore your gaze away from Sanji and shifted your attention to the menu, but a wave of nausea washed over you as Christopher's hand brushed against yours.

Evidently, you had claimed victory far too soon.

"I'm in the mood for some meat tonight.”

You clenched your fists, causing your knuckles to whiten as you tightened your grip on the tablecloth.

"Meat? I thought you didn't want to eat that," he remarked.

You often pondered how oblivious he was to your actions, eventually concluding that even if he did notice, he likely wouldn't care.

"Let me guess. My mother told you it's bad for my health," you responded sardonically.

He scratched the back of his neck and replied, "Heh, well. Yes.”

“What a surprise.”

You glanced around cautiously, hoping to catch another glimpse of Sanji, but he had already disappeared. Meanwhile, Christopher grew increasingly agitated as he checked his pockets, only to release a sigh of relief when he found whatever he had been frantically searching for.

"Is everything alright?" you asked him.

"Hmm? Oh yes, everything is fine," he replied absentmindedly.

Your heart sank as a different waiter approached the table to take your order. This pale, young man wore a shy smile, suggesting that he was a new addition to the staff. However, he exuded a natural confidence and competence that immediately filled you with a comforting sense of warmth.

Just... he wasn't the one you were hoping to see.

Furthermore, Christopher's growing restlessness was beginning to try your patience. He couldn't seem to stay still, constantly fidgeting in his chair and looking around as if he were disoriented. He frequently adjusted the collar of his shirt, which was becoming drenched with his nervous perspiration.

Ignoring him, you drank the refreshing, ice-cold water that the waiter had poured into your glass, feeling your throat parched from your increasing frustration. Suddenly, you wished you had ordered something stronger.

When your food arrived, the enticing aroma of the steak enveloped your senses, causing your mouth to water the moment it was delicately placed in front of you. The rich, creamy sauce that coated it left you longing for more, as if you hadn't eaten in days.

With anticipation, you picked up the polished silverware, prepared to take your first bite. However, your excitement quickly waned when Christopher let out a long, deep sigh and nearly pushed his own plate aside, leaving it untouched.

"That's it. I need to do it now."

Your actions came to a halt, and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What are you talking about?”

Christopher cleared his throat once again, reaching into his inner pocket. He retrieved a small black velvet box and placed it on the table, sliding it towards you with care. In that moment, it felt as if all color had drained from your face.

"I had planned to do this after dessert, but I can't wait any longer. Can you please open it?" he asked, his voice filled with apprehension.

Your fingers trembled, causing the fork and knife to slip from your grip and clang against the plate. A surge of dread washed over you as you cautiously took the box and opened it, revealing a sparkling ring that seemed overly large and ostentatious, far from your own personal style.

"What your mother mentioned to us two weeks ago got me thinking. We've known each other for quite a while now, haven't we? We shouldn't waste any more time. Let’s get married," he said bluntly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling your heart pounding in your chest, as if it were about to burst and make you collapse. Deep down, you had a premonition that this was what he had planned all along, which is precisely why you had felt such a strong urge to flee, regretting ever accepting his invitation in the first place.

You didn't need to ponder it because you already knew the answer, and it was one that nobody was going to find satisfying.

"Chris, let me ask you something. Are you genuinely convinced that this would even work out?" you questioned.

"I don't see any reason why it wouldn't," he replied with a shrug.

"We might have known each other for a few years, but you don't even love me," you stated.

"So what? I like you enough to consider you worthy of being a good wife."

You swallowed hard, summoning your courage. "But we have nothing in common. We are complete opposites. How can you even believe that we are meant to be together?”

His expression hardened in a way you had never witnessed before. "Look, I don't see why this is even relevant. All I expect from you is to become the wife I deserve and the mother of my children.”

Hearing that, the pressing need to stand up and storm out of the restaurant overcame you, never wanting to see his face again. "How did we even go from talking about marriage to discussing having children?"

"That's what married couples do, right?"

"So this is all I am to you? A mere trophy to be won? Just an object to put on display and bear your children without any say or consent?" you inquired, seething with resentment and utter disgust.

Christopher's jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened to a degree that sent a shiver down your spine. "This is what you are meant to do. It's the reason why you were promised to me," he stated coldly.

You knew that you were expected to comply, and maybe, if this had happened just a little while ago, you might have accepted his proposal even if it tore you apart inside. But this time, everything felt different.

You felt different.

You closed the box, carefully placing it on the table, and slid it back to him. "I'm sorry. The answer is no.”

In retrospect, you should have anticipated that he wouldn't take it lightly.

"No? NO???" he exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief and anger. "It's what your parents want too, so you MUST do as they say!" he insisted.

His increasing frustration and sense of entitlement only served to further distance you. As his voice grew louder, you became more self-conscious, aware of the stares from other customers as they turned to look in your direction.

Nervously, you implored Chris to lower his voice. "You won't achieve anything screaming at me, Chris. Please, let's talk about this later," you said, hoping to soothe his frayed nerves.

"Oh, no. Everyone needs to know what a damn bitch you are."

The whispers around you grew more audible, heightening your feelings of embarrassment and mortification.

"Give me a valid reason for not marrying me," he demanded. "Enough with the bullshit!”

Despite feeling intimidated by his unexpected outburst, you refused to allow your determination to crumble.

You knew it was audacious, but you managed to astonish even yourself as all the venom within you poured out without restraint. "I would rather die than marry someone like you."

It took a moment for the events that followed your confession to sink in. Suddenly, your head was forcefully turned to the side, accompanied by a throbbing pain that spread across your cheek and to the corner of your mouth. The room filled with gasps, and as the harsh reality of the situation settled in, you forced yourself to look back at Christopher, gently brushing your already swollen face with your fingertips.

Christopher was panting, trembling with anger. His eyes were filled with nothing but a toxic and malevolent disdain. "Your parents were right. You are such a disappointment.”

You had to concentrate on controlling your own breathing now, but the shock from the slap had rendered you motionless, trapped in the chair, immobilized by fear.

And yet, you allowed yourself to let out another stinging sentence. "I might be a disappointment, but you sure as hell are far from a real man.”

Christopher stood up and seized the edge of the table, flipping it over with a sudden, powerful force. You watched in dismay as the food tumbled down, landing in a chaotic mess of broken glass and ceramic shards.

It was a distressing and painful sight to witness, such a terrible waste.

Christopher was far from finished, especially when it came to you. Before you could even react, he forcefully pulled your hair back, his teeth gritted dangerously close to your face.

"Maybe I should ruin this pretty face of yours. See then if any other man will ever want your pathetic existence in his life.”

Your mouth opened, but no sound emerged. You remained seated, steeling yourself for whatever was about to transpire.

And then, like a beacon of light amidst the darkness, you heard a familiar voice.

"I thought the rules were clear sir: no wasting food, and no fights in the Baratie."

Sanji appeared by your side, his blue eyes emanating a menacing glare, assuming his customary pose with his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Ah, here comes the fancy jerk," Christopher said with an amused grin, letting go of your hair and straightening himself up.

Sanji stood his ground, showing no signs of being affected by the threatening tone of your ex-fiancé. In a firm voice, he cautioned, "I would strongly advise you to step away from her."

Chris let out a boisterous laugh. "What are you, her lapdog?" he sneered. "Perhaps I should teach you some manners. Let's see if you still want to meddle in other people's fucking business.”

In a split second, Christopher retrieved a gun from his holster, but even before he had a chance to point it at Sanji, the cook reacted with lightning speed, moving in a blur. With a quick and fluid motion, Sanji lifted his left leg and expertly kicked the gun out of Christopher's hand, causing it to clatter loudly as it hit the floor. Filled with a mixture of shock and escalating rage, Christopher let out a ferocious growl, launching himself at Sanji with the intention of landing a powerful punch. However, effortlessly evading Christopher's attack, Sanji countered with another forceful kick aimed at his face. The impact was so powerful that it immediately caused the man's nose to start bleeding.

As you looked up, you saw Sanji standing before you once again, his gaze resting on Christopher's pitiful figure. His blond hair partially obscured the left side of his face, while his leg remained slightly elevated as he readjusted his hands in his pants pockets.

In that moment, your breath caught in your throat, leaving you momentarily speechless at the unexpected display of Sanji's strength and agility.

Regaining his composure, Chris charged forward a second time, moving with surprising speed despite his disheveled and worn-out appearance. ”That is no way to deal with a customer!”

"And that is not how you treat a respectable lady, you shithead," Sanji shot back, his irritation evident in his scowl and rising anger in his voice. Any semblance of professional courtesy had long vanished.

As your heart raced with excitement, the sound of Christopher's approaching footsteps sent alarm bells ringing in your mind, erasing any trace of a smile that was about to appear on your face.

"How did you put it? No fights? Well, now you've made it personal.”

After wiping the blood from his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, Christopher took on a fighting stance and cracked his knuckles. He continued to taunt Sanji, just as he always did when confronting the pirates he despised so vehemently.

Once again, the cook seemed unimpressed. "You're only going to end up hurting yourself," he said nonchalantly.

If there was one thing you had learned about Chris the hard way, it was that he didn't take kindly to being challenged or disrespected. Sanji's dismissive and mocking manners only served to further ignite his fury, prompting him to charge at your savior with a fierce battle cry.

Despite Christopher's attempts to land blows on Sanji, each one was easily blocked, deflected, or completely avoided by the blond's incredible skills. Sanji's movements focused solely on his legs as he relentlessly unleashed a barrage of kicks to Christopher's head, chest, and abdomen.

You watched the scene in awe, completely captivated by the way Sanji's hair swayed in front of his eyes, only to be brushed back with a quick head movement. He pivoted gracefully, delivering a final, forceful kick that sent Christopher sprawling onto his back. Your ex-fiancé, unwilling to give up, relied on his Marine training, summoning enough resilience to rise to his feet again. However, before he could take another step forward, the sound of a gun being cocked echoed from behind him.

A tall man with a towering chef's hat, dressed in a white cook uniform and sporting an incredibly long braided blond mustache, brought him to an abrupt halt. He pressed the cold barrel of the weapon against the back of Christopher's head.

"That's enough," he commanded. "Get out of my restaurant. Now.”

Christopher's demeanor underwent a sudden and dramatic transformation, shifting from the confidence of a fierce lion to the innocence of a timid mouse. With his hands raised in the air, his current posture stood in stark contrast to his previous aggression.

The man in charge, unmistakably asserting his authority, positioned himself between Christopher and Sanji without lowering his weapon. Upon closer observation, you noticed that his right leg was actually a wooden peg.

"My father won't be pleased with this. This place is nothing but a damn hellhole, and you're no better than those filthy pirates," Christopher proclaimed, his voice dripping with hatred and contempt.

“I said, out!”

The owner's commanding voice resonated with such force that it echoed throughout the entire dining room. The authoritative command seemed to make even Christopher flinch, and just as he was about to turn and leave, his gaze unexpectedly locked onto you one last time.

"You'll pay for this, Y/N," he warned, his words carrying the weight of a vengeful promise.

Without hesitation, Sanji moved towards Christopher, but his path was intercepted by the head chef, who firmly pressed his hand against Sanji's chest, effectively restraining him.

As Christopher picked up his pistol from the floor and hurriedly left, you watched his figure fade away, his fingers clutching a bloodied nose. A profound sense of relief washed over you the moment he disappeared, but the emotional toll left you too drained to even move or rise. Your gaze drifted downward to the ruined food scattered about, and a wave of guilt engulfed you as you acknowledged the wasted efforts.

“Are you all right?”

You were greeted by a calm and soothing voice, tinged with a hint of roughness. As you turned your head, you found the chef leaning slightly over you, attentively examining your face. You could feel your cheek growing warmer and irritatingly swollen.

You managed to muster only a nod and allowed a smile to finally grace your lips. "I apologize for this mess, sir.”

The man placed his hands on his hips, letting out a frustrated sigh as he surveyed the chaos caused by Christopher's rampage. Your attention was drawn to more workers emerging from the kitchen, each carrying brooms, cleaning rugs, and trays to collect the scattered debris.

"Come on, Little Eggplant, take her to the kitchen," the chef instructed Sanji before shifting his attention to the others present. "Get back to your meals, folks. There's nothing to see here.”

The tension in the room was palpable as the customers made an effort to mind their own business but struggled to do so. Some sat in silence, their attention back to their now cold food, while others discreetly stole glances in your direction, seeking reassurance that your condition was not too severe.

As Sanji drew near, he came unexpectedly close to your face. One hand extended towards you, while the other delicately reached out to touch your upper back, conveying a gentle gesture of care. "Can you stand?" he asked softly.

"I think so," you confirmed, lightly brushing his palm with your fingertips as you pushed yourself upright. Your legs felt slightly unsteady, but you had no reason to worry about them giving way because Sanji was there, supporting your waist and guiding you towards the kitchen.

Everything happened so quickly that you were still trying to grasp the full extent of the situation. Rumors had been circulating about the Baratie not being an ordinary restaurant, but rather an establishment managed by a former pirate who had found solace in the Sambas Region. If anything, witnessing the owner's imposing presence and being privy to Sanji's astounding combat prowess only served to deepen your admiration.

As you entered the kitchen through the swinging wooden doors, all the workers inside turned their gaze towards you, their faces showing a mix of surprise and perplexity. They were taken aback by the commotion outside and the presence of a stranger being brought into their workspace.

Sanji guided you to an unoccupied table tucked away in a secluded corner of the room. He invited you to take a seat and made sure to stay by your side until you were comfortably settled. You quietly watched as he removed his black jacket and casually placed it over the back of a nearby chair, revealing his well-defined physique accentuated by the long-sleeved button-up shirt he wore underneath.

He then approached a refrigerator, inspecting its contents and rolling up his sleeves.

You noticed the same pale young man who had taken your orders earlier, repeatedly looking back and forth between you and Sanji. However, he chose not to voice the question that was likely on everyone's mind and quickly returned to stirring the pot in front of him when he briefly made eye contact with you.

That is, until a man with brown skin, short blue hair, and a distinctive stubble decided to step forward. He wiped his hands on the front of his apron and furrowed his eyebrows as he noticed the redness on your cheek. "What happened?" he asked inquisitively.

"It's nothing, Patty. Get back to your work. I'll take care of this," Sanji replied, closing the fridge with something wrapped carefully in tinfoil in his hand.

Patty seemed unsure, but like the others, he chose not to inquire further and let the matter go. You watched as he skillfully diced the carrots and tossed them into the sizzling pan.

When Sanji returned and handed you the frozen leftovers to use as a makeshift ice pack for your cheek, you couldn't help but suppress a mental chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. He apologized for the inconvenience, explaining that their kitchen was not equipped to provide proper medical assistance.

Despite all the chaos and mess, you found Sanji's tenderness to be heartwarming. His gentle touch as he carefully wiped a cloth across the other side of your face, removing a droplet of meat sauce just below your cheekbone, evoked a feeling of care and comfort, surrounding you with a warm embrace.

Neither of you spoke, completely absorbed in a peaceful, tender moment as Sanji meticulously cleansed your skin and gently brushed a strand of hair away from your eye. Feeling your right cheek lightly graze against the cool tinfoil, a slight throb pulsed through, but the refreshing sensation provided immediate relief, easing the pain until it gradually faded into a barely noticeable ache.

The workers diligently carried out their tasks, bustling around the kitchen, cooking, and cleaning surfaces to remove any traces of flour and various ingredients. Patty occasionally took a quick peek in your direction, but he remained focused on his station behind the stove, choosing not to intervene.

After a while, you found it impossible to contain the soft giggle that escaped your lips, quickly blossoming into genuine laughter. Sanji looked at you with a mixture of confusion and amusement, but a smile slowly spread across his face.

“What is it?” He asked curiously.

"It's not exactly romantic for me to be sitting here with a frozen salmon pressed against my face, is it?”

Upon hearing your words, Sanji joined in laughter, not to mock you, but to create a lighthearted atmosphere and demonstrate that he didn't mind at all, as long as you were safe and out of Christopher's reach.

But then, a thought crossed his mind. "How did you know there's fish in there?”

You shrugged lightly in response. "I can smell it through the tinfoil."

"Your sense of smell is quite impressive, madam."

"Y/N, please," you reiterated. "What you did back there was absolutely incredible, by the way.”

And then, like a vessel propelled by a gust of wind, your lips continued to move on their own.

“How is it possible for you to be such an amazing cook, handsome, and even a formidable fighter? It’s way too much at once, it should be illegal.”

Although you were still overwhelmed by the combination of his talents, you inwardly chided yourself for the blunt nature of the comment you made. Your compliments caught Sanji off guard, and you were astonished by your uncharacteristically straightforward words. He glanced down with a bashful smile, chuckling to himself, clearly reveling in the boost to his ego.

"Shit. What am I saying? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to blurt that out loud."

"No need to apologize… Y/N. I like your honesty. Please, feel free to keep it coming."

Sanji's warm smile and gentle blue eyes were the most captivating sights you had ever seen. In his presence, it felt natural for you to express genuine compliments, even though you would normally hesitate to speak so openly without the help of a drink. Perhaps it was the fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins that temporarily allowed you to let go of your usual inhibitions.

As everything flooded back to you, your expression faltered. "Thank you for saving me out there. And I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble.”

"It wasn't your fault," Sanji reassured you kindly.

But you, being compassionate by nature, shook your head. "That idiot was with me, so I should take responsibility for what he did. I was the one who provoked him, anyway," you acknowledged, shouldering a blame that didn't truly belong to you.

"Nah. Anyone with enough common sense would recognize what a bloody knobhead he is."

"He's the absolute worst, truly," you affirmed.

Sanji seemed to became expectant, and a trace of concern flashed in his eyes, as if he was apprehensive about what Christopher might have subjected you to beyond the confines of the Baratie.

In the end, you concluded that it wouldn't be so terrible or inappropriate to reveal the truth of what had taken place. "You see, he actually decided to propose to me tonight," you explained.

He adjusted his posture, straightening his back against the chair. "And you turned him down?"

“I did.”

"You don't love him, do you?"

“As if I ever could.”

It did feel strange to have such a conversation in the bustling kitchen of his restaurant, but with the constant noise of boiling water, sizzling meat, and knives chopping, you doubted that anyone would pay attention to the two of you discussing the unpleasantness of your former fiancé.

Sanji smiled once more, looking at you with fascination and pride. "I must say, you were wrong about one thing.”

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. "About what?"

"Last time you told me that some birds are not meant to fly.”

Your eyes flickered. “Ah, yes. I remember that.”

“And yet, I see a beautiful one spreading its wings right in front of me.”

You blushed slightly, lowering the frozen salmon and running your thumb over the tinfoil covering it. "I suppose. Although I can anticipate a significant backlash coming my way, so I can’t get too comfortable now.”

"You should to stay away from that git."

“It's not just him that I'm worried about."

Sanji waited, expecting further explanation, but this time you simply looked into his eyes without offering any additional information.

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and absentmindedly tapped his fingertips against the table. "It's more complicated than that, isn't it?" he asked, sensing that there was more to the story.

You smiled back at him with a hint of sadness. "You have no idea.”

Sanji leaned forward, lightly brushing your left arm with the cloth he was still holding. "My offer still stands, sweetheart. If you ever need any help, you know where to find me," he said, his voice filled with sincerity and a genuine willingness to support you.

Your heart fluttered, and the butterflies in your stomach intensified, swirling in an endless spiral. Although he had gained the reputation of a womanizer, you now realized that Mari had spoken the truth. There was a hidden depth to Sanji beyond his flirtatious demeanor, and you couldn't help but wonder if his charm served as a shield to conceal something tormenting him from within.

You felt an unexplainable pull towards Sanji and the mysterious depths that you could detect in him. However, you were hesitant to fully open up to this kind man, determined to keep your personal struggles separate from others. Despite the tempting offer and the looming dread of what awaited you, you remained resolute in your dedication to handling things in the proper manner, even though deep down, you yearned for the comfort and affection of someone else.

"Thank you, but don't worry about it. I can handle it on my own,” you assured. “Besides, you've already done more than enough for me.”

Unbeknownst to you, you found yourself instinctively leaning towards him, delicately touching his bare wrist. Your cool fingers glided over his warm skin, grazing the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. Sanji glanced down at your hand, and just as you were about to pull away, he flashed another irresistible, captivating smile that was difficult for you to ignore.

"There is one more thing I can do for you.”

"What do you mean?" you asked, sliding your fingers down to rest on the table.

"You couldn’t eat your food, could you?”

You bit your lower lip. "No. The jerk ruined it before I could take a bite."

"Well, I can't have you here at the Baratie with an empty stomach, what kind of man would I be?" he winked. "What would you like to eat? Shall I bring you the same order as before?"

You were surprised by his eagerness as he stood up from the chair and retrieved the white chef uniform that had been casually discarded on an empty counter.

A part of you still craved the tantalizing steak you had missed out on, but you came to the realization that anything prepared by Sanji would be equally exquisite. With a broad grin on your face, you presented the wrapped salmon to him, anticipating the culinary masterpiece he would create.

"It would be a shame not to make the most of this lifesaver fish. I have complete faith in your skills."

Filled with a newfound confidence, he carefully buttoned up his white jacket, unwrapped the leftovers, and selected a freshly cleaned pan from the kitchenware.

“Right away!”

Saying that Zeff was irritated was an understatement. Every now and then, there was that one customer ready to jeopardize everything he had worked so hard for, forcing him and his workers to clean and repair the damages caused. Now, two plates and glasses needed to be replaced with fresh new ones, the food had practically been trampled on the floor and couldn't be salvaged, and the tablecloth required an immediate thorough wash.

He could finally return to the kitchen, only to find Sanji happily cooking something without his specific permission. Their habit of arguing out loud due to Sanji's tendency to improvise dishes and deviate from the menu was a constant source of frustration for Zeff. It led him to repeatedly banish Sanji from any cooking responsibilities and demote him to the role of a waiter, which the young cook despised. And yet, as the stubborn Little Eggplant that he was, Sanji never seemed to learn.

To Zeff, there was nobody as talented as Sanji in his restaurant, but he knew that the sole reason for the young man to stay at the Baratie was the strong sense of obligation he nurtured for the head chef. Zeff wanted Sanji to realize the enormous amount of opportunities he was wasting, and if he had to push him the hard way every day to get it through his head, he was willing to do it for Sanji's own sake.

Zeff was on the verge of unleashing another loud complaint, but the words remained stifled in his mouth as soon as he caught sight of you sitting at the table, tucked away in a remote corner of the kitchen. A shy smile graced your lips as you hugged yourself, appearing delicate and out of place. In your presence, he couldn't bring himself to create a scene, realizing that the only reason Sanji had donned his cook uniform again was to feed you.

Whenever their eyes met, Sanji shot Zeff a threatening look, fully aware of the chef's constant scrutiny on his food preparation. It was evident that he was once again modifying one of his original dishes, but Zeff chose to hold back his reprimand for a later time.

As Sanji returned to the table and placed the plate of salmon in front of you, your face lit up and your smile became much more genuine and carefree. Zeff felt a subtle warmth in his chest the moment he witnessed your satisfaction in finally being able to indulge in the meal that had been denied to you. Zeff remained unwavering in his code of honor, both in the past and in the present, even though he used to find enjoyment in battles and feeling a sense of satisfaction from the blood of his enemies on his boots. He couldn't comprehend any valid justification for the scumbag you had come with to inflict harm upon an innocent person like yourself.

Sanji was expected to return to his duties after tending to your injury, but he instead chose to sit down in front of you and showed no intention of getting up. Zeff couldn't help but roll his eyes at his behavior as he collected the prepared meals and left to serve them to the customers himself.

Sanji had done it again. You hadn't even wanted fish when you arrived at the Baratie, but the meal he prepared was so scrumptious that it completely overshadowed the steak you missed out on. The Salmon Meunière, as he called it, was exquisitely delicate on the palate and unquestionably the most tender and flavorful salmon you had ever experienced. Lightly fried in oil, it was served with a buttery sauce, lemon juice, and parsley. The crispy coating melted on your tongue the moment it touched your taste buds. Sanji explained that while it was originally part of Zeff's restaurant menu, he took the liberty to enhance the recipe with his own personal touch.

The way Sanji could elevate a simple dish into an authentic masterpiece was truly beyond belief.

"I'm telling you, your talents are wasted on waiting tables," you exclaimed, gazing in awe at your now empty plate.

Sanji clicked his tongue and pursed his lips. "The old man wouldn't see it that way," he replied.

"But why? Just because you enjoy being creative with your cooking? If the outcome is this good, he would only gain from it.”

Sanji stared at you in silence, but then he flashed another sweet, captivating smile that instantly made your knees weak. "Do you truly mean that?" he asked, his voice filled with hope and a glimmer of vulnerability.

Hopefully, the blush coloring your cheeks wasn't too noticeable in the dim light of the kitchen. "Of course. And I could tell him as well.”

He chuckled softly. "I appreciate it, but you definitely don't want to see Zeff when he's angry.”

You playfully tapped his hand. "Oh, come on. He can't be worse than my ex.”

Upon hearing that, Sanji was reminded of how your former fiancé had treated you. His gaze shifted back to the right side of your face, which, although no longer as swollen as before, still caused intermittent tingling and twinges of pain.

"Zeff is a man of honor," he replied. "From my personal experience, I can vouch for that.”

You raised an eyebrow as you scrutinized his expression. While his left eye was partially obscured by his hair, the other one shimmered in the gentle glow, captivating your attention.

"Ah, I see now. He's not just your boss, is he? There's something more going on between the two of you.”

Sanji removed the white cloth from his shoulder and delicately placed it on the table. He appeared lost in thought, his jaw tightly clenched with tension. "Well, it's..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

You didn’t need to let him finish. “Complicated?”

He nodded, a subtle grin playing on his lips. "Very much so," he replied.

Another comfortable silence settled between the two of you once more, and you welcomed it with open arms. The sudden sense of camaraderie and understanding that had developed between Sanji and you was beyond your comprehension, surpassing anything you experienced in your life.

This time, Patty took a step closer, his frustration becoming apparent even in your presence. "Are you returning to work or not?" he demanded.

Sanji took a deep breath, his right hand clenched into a tight fist. "Be quiet, Patty. I'm busy at the moment.”

"Oh, right. Busy. I see that."

Suddenly, a sense of guilt enveloped you for diverting Sanji from his duties. Although none of his colleagues had voiced their concerns, it was clear that Patty's patience had inevitably reached its limit.

And so, you gently brushed your fingertips against his clenched fist, feeling it gradually loosen and relax under your touch. "Hey, it's okay," you whispered. "Don't worry about me. They need you.”

Sanji hesitated, stealing a quick glance at Patty, who stood there with his arms crossed and waited impatiently.

"Go. I'll be fine here," you reassured him.

It took him a moment, but Sanji finally came to terms with what needed to be done, although he seemed much less resistant to the idea than he was with Patty.

"Call me if you need anything," he said, standing up from the chair and unbuttoning his uniform.

As you watched him discard his chef clothes, a twinge of sadness tugged at your heart, seeing him set aside his culinary skills to work as a waiter in the dining hall. Of course, you didn't dare to say anything, maintaining your smile and crossing your hands on the table, the black jacket fluttering behind him as he put it back on and walked away.

When Patty turned to you, all the annoyance he had previously displayed seemed to have completely vanished. "How did you manage that?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "I… simply told him to get back to work.”

Patty let out a small snort. "He would only listen to me if I were an attractive lady," he remarked with a hint of sarcasm, acknowledging Sanji's flirtatious nature.

You laughed wholeheartedly. "I'll take that as a compliment.”

For the first time since you entered the kitchen, you witnessed Patty flash a warm, toothy smile. You remained silent as you watched him skillfully work the pan on the stove, effortlessly cutting more fish, meat, and vegetables as he went. Everyone moved with impressive speed and confidence, yet the atmosphere managed to remain calm and devoid of stress.

For the next hour and a half, you remained there without interfering, meticulously studying your surroundings and observing every action unfolding before your eyes. Contrary to expectations, sitting at the table with nothing to do was surprisingly productive. Patty and the pale young waiter would occasionally check in to see if you needed anything else to eat or drink, but you were still perfectly satisfied and content from the dinner Sanji had prepared for you. The mentioned cook continuously darted back and forth, unwilling to leave you unattended, always ready to crack a joke just to bring a smile to your face.

Somehow, the attention that these perfect strangers were giving you sparked a strong desire to become a part of their world.

As Sanji returned to the kitchen after completing his last task for the day, he was taken aback by what he saw. Instead of finding you waiting for him at the table as he had anticipated, he discovered you standing in front of the sink, diligently washing dishes and polishing glasses. To his astonishment, you were adorned in an apron that somehow complemented your lovely dress and high heels.

Sanji stood frozen, a mix of bewilderment and amusement washing over him as he witnessed you engrossed in a lively conversation with Patty. With neatly stacked plates beside you, it appeared that everyone else had either retired for a well-deserved rest or gathered at the bar for a refreshing drink. Frowning slightly, he couldn't help but smile at how seamlessly you had assimilated into the environment. The stark contrast between the person he had brought to the kitchen and the woman diligently working before him was striking.

As Patty caught sight of Sanji standing at the entrance, he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Don't blame me. She was the one who insisted.”

You turned your head towards him, greeted Sanji with a beaming smile, and wiped your hands on the apron. "Welcome back," you said cheerfully, your voice filled with warmth and genuine happiness.

"What are you doing, beautiful? " he asked, a playful hint in his voice.

"Sitting over there was starting to give me a cramp in my butt. I thought I could be of use and lend you a hand. It's the least I can do after the trouble Shithead caused.”

Sanji couldn't resist the temptation and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face with a feather-like touch, just as he had done before. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of your eyes. In that moment, as he observed you completely at ease and exuding confidence, Sanji found himself even more engrossed in your presence. The constraints of a snug-fitting dress and uncomfortable shoes were not enough to deter you, as you appeared completely undeterred by your less-than-ideal attire for such tasks.

"I apologize for leaving you here alone. It was never my intention to impose our job on you," he said apologetically.

"You didn't impose anything on me, and technically, I'm not even supposed to be here," you replied. "Truth be told, I was actually having a good time.”

"A good time washing dishes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Most people consider it a boring thing to do, but it’s not that bad to me.”

As usual, the dining hall was filled with a multitude of incredibly beautiful clients, and yet, Sanji couldn't shake off the enchantment of your delightful smile. While women held a special place in Sanji's heart, regardless of their story or background, there was something about you that radiated a unique aura. It compelled him to seek a deeper understanding of your personality and uncover more about your hardships.

As Patty grumbled a few steps away, annoyingly suggesting that the two of you should have a room to yourselves, he folded his stained apron and quietly left, leaving you and Sanji alone in the tranquil ambiance of the empty room.

Sanji felt an overwhelming urge to move closer to where you were standing, finding you the most adorable thing he had ever laid eyes on, especially with the noticeable red tint coloring your cheeks. However, he resisted the temptation, understanding the significance of maintaining a respectful distance.

Finally, it was you who broke the awkward silence by untangling the apron from behind your neck.

"Hey, um...do you mind if I make a quick call?”

Even though a part of him felt let down by your sudden change of topic, clearly an attempt to avoid any potentially embarrassing situation, Sanji didn't mind indulging in a game of playing hard-to-get.

"Of course," he replied. "Zeff keeps a Snail Phone in his office. I could take you there for some privacy, if you'd like.”

“I hate to take advantage of your kindness again, but… yes, please.”

He deeply respected your selflessness and compassion towards others, two qualities that he held in high regard. He couldn’t wait to discover the other hidden facets of your personality.

“Anything for you, Y/N.”

Sanji gently brushed his hand against your back, guiding you out of the kitchen and towards the head chef's private quarters. The contact was pleasant, and he couldn't help but savor the smooth and silky texture of your skin once again.

Deep inside, and yet not buried too far, it was driving him utterly insane.

When you sat at the head chef's desk, the Snail Phone resting on top of it, you struggled to stifle your laughter as you gazed at its appearance. The uncanny resemblance to Zeff, with the braided mustache and tiny chef hat, was truly remarkable to you. The ability for everyone to customize their Snails according to their preferences always filled you with delight and exhilaration.

Once you managed to compose yourself, you dialed the number and calmly waited for your friend to pick up. Outside the closed door, Sanji patiently leaned against the wall, waiting for you to finish.

When Mari's voice came through the other side of the line, her name almost escaped your lips as a shout.

"Y/N? Where are you calling from? I thought you went to the Baratie restaurant with Nutty.”

“Nutty…?”

“Yes, you know. He’s a Nutter. Duh.”

YYou shook your head, exhaling a breath that you hadn't realized you were holding.

“Wait, what’s going on?”

Despite your friends' warnings about the man's unpredictable nature, you had obstinately proceeded without heeding their advice. Now, faced with the undeniable truth of their words, you found yourself unable to express the full extent of their accuracy.

"We came to the Baratie, but let's just say that things didn't go as planned," you replied, attempting to downplay the gravity of the situation.

"I don’t like the sound of that," she muttered, expressing a sense of concern or worry.

And thus, without beating around the bush or wasting time, you revealed, "He proposed to me. With the most flashy, biggest ring I have ever seen. I had to decline.”

"He did what...?" Mari's voice echoed through the room, reaching a volume that made it highly likely that even Sanji could hear it. "And you...you actually did that?”

"What other choice did I have? I can't marry someone like him.”

"Of course you can't, sweetie! The thing is, I never expected you to have the courage to do it. No offense," Mari replied, her tone filled with surprise and admiration.

"None taken.”

"So, what's the plan now? Are you still with him?"

"No, he's gone. Or rather, they made him leave after he-"

"Did he do something to you?”

You paused momentarily, your hand instinctively rising to touch your right cheek, before providing her with a brief yet comprehensive explanation.

Being your best friend, Mari had taken it upon herself to look after you during times when you struggled to take care of yourself. While you never quite mastered the art of physical combat, Mari possessed the ability to defeat any opponent she came across, regardless of their size.

"I'm going to kill him," she declared with determination. “I'll find him and give him a beating that will make him weep and beg for weeks.”

Having a good understanding of her character, you knew that she genuinely meant every word she spoke.

"That's really kind of you, but please don't. It's not worth it," you pleaded.

"Y/N, this is unacceptable. No man should ever treat a woman like that," she expressed, brimming with righteous indignation.

"Believe me, I learned my lesson the hard way," you said, conveying the painful experience you had endured.

Mari let out a deep groan. "So, if he's gone, that means you're still at the Baratie on your own, right?”

"Yes, about that. Is there any chance you guys could come and pick me up?”

"We can definitely get you, no doubt about it. But just keep in mind that even if we leave now, we won't be able to reach the restaurant until tomorrow morning.”

A wave of realization washed over you, causing your grip on the speaker to tighten. It felt like a chilling shower drenching you from head to toe as you suddenly grasped the most crucial detail of all: you were left stranded at the Baratie for the entire night.

While the idea wasn't particularly scary, knowing that you were safer at the Baratie than in your own home, you pondered whether the staff had a spare room on the ship to offer. However, your mind soon drifted back to Sanji, resulting in a stream of inappropriate mental images that you had to forcefully push away.

You were so consumed by your post-traumatic emotions and the flirtatious back-and-forth with Sanji that it hadn't even occurred to you until that precise moment.

"...Right, obviously.”

And then, panic engulfed you.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 3 ->

[shepherds-of-haven]

Sorry if this has already been asked before, but have you ever thought about writing a sequel to SoH? I know you said it would be a stand-alone book, but I think a sequel where we explore different continents would be extremely cool. I just love these character so much and idk if I’m ready to say goodbye. I know we still have a bit left but still…

Hi there, this message has been sitting in a long queue of messages I've fallen behind on answering for a while now, but I just wanted to say thank you for taking the time to send it! It ended up being extremely thought-provoking for me, and you may have single-handedly made me reconsider my stance on a Shepherds sequel! XD

I always planned on this entry being a standalone game, though I was toying with the idea of eventually writing a sequel that follows a separate cast of characters (aka different protagonist and companions, though with room for potential cameos with the old characters). Pretty much like how Dragon Age does it! I won't go into the potential plot details now, but I was thinking it might take place sometime between 10-15 years in the future, and it would follow "a new generation" of Shepherds in a different locale. I've sort of hazily cobbled together ideas for the story/main premise, but companions outside of the main protagonist have eluded me at the moment--I really need to focus on this game, its DLC, and my next book first, so I haven't given it too much thought!

However, your comment has unearthed some feelings I've been having about a potential sequel, too! It's hard for me to feel like I'd be ready to say goodbye to the cast, as well... It's so easy for me to write them because they've been in my head for so many years, and starting an adventure in the world of Blest with different and new characters admittedly feels a bit strange. It's like having to hang back a grade while all of your friends graduate high school and then looking around at the incoming freshman class like "welp, I guess you guys are my friends now! 😒" lol. I'm torn on the issue: I don't want to not challenge myself or refuse to move out of my comfort zone as a writer--in short, I don't want to be the kind of writer who recycles the same characters and material because doing something new is daunting to me, and I don't want you all to feel like I'm making endless sequels/trying to recapture old magic and should just move on to something new, either--but I do love my cast and I'm not sure yet if I should definitively say, "No, their chapter is done with this game and it's on to the next!", because I can see so many adventures happening to them even after this story is over!

The problem lies with endings--there are so many different endings planned for this game that I hesitate in treating any of them as the true or canonical one, but otherwise trying to account for all of them in a sequel feels quite impossible to accomplish when I wasn't planning on a continuation--along with other logistical concerns that I can't get into at the moment. Like, what if you end the game with all of the Shepherds except Halek dead? What if your friend ends the game with all of them alive, but the MC is dead? This game alone is already 1 million words, but a direct sequel would probably wrack up hundreds of thousands of variations based on all of these choices in its first chapter alone! 🤔

That's why I figure DLC is the happy medium here: you can expand on or create new content and adventures for the characters, but slot them into the timeline wherever you wish, like in between Chapter 7 and 8, etc. And episodic adventures might keep things small and streamlined enough that I can update them more consistently, rather than hacking away at one giant sequel game!

Aaaaaanyway... All this is to say: I have a lot to think about! Absolutely nothing has been decided yet (not even close), but these are just some of the things I've had rattling around in my head. Thank you again for your sweet and honest words: I'm glad you're so fond of these characters and would miss them. I would, too! But whatever ends up happening, I know this game won't be the last time we see them. :)

Thanks again!

[cobaltcarbonpotassium420]

skin to skin - shidou ryusei

tags / warnings: kinda fluffy, shidou is a little confused about his feelings but that's okay, gn! reader, moderately suggestive content but nothing actually happens, not proofread

author's note: first actual fic??? i'm a lil bit bored so why not. i think shidou might be a little ooc in this perhaps but i tried my best! i'm also a little worried that i implied anything too much about the reader's appearance, so i am very very sorry if i did. constructive criticism is appreciated, though i might cry tbh. exams have me fucked up. enjoy!

his hands roam. they don't have any particular goal. he only glides his fingers gently over your skin, exploring the terrain while you sleep. the warm summer air is oppressive, so the duvet has long since been replaced for a much thinner, almost useless blanket. its use is less for warmth than modesty, not that such a thing was really necessary when shidou had already seen everything there was to be seen about you.

his hands traverse over your thighs, still hovering over with a touch so soft he might as well have been dragging a feather along your sleeping form. sure he might have seen everything, but had he ever truly indulged his other senses in you? perhaps he had tasted you, even some hours later you still lingered on his tongue. it's a bitter, salty taste that sent his nerves into overdrive when the first pang hit. he can recreate the moment in his mind, but it never gets him going quite as much as experiencing it does. thoughts are just thoughts, they're never true to the experience.

that's two senses shidou could tick off of his list of ways he knows you, and now he was about to tick off a third. he had felt you before. he held you tight and close, but the sensation was never what he was focused on. he was familiar with how light and malleable you felt in his hands, but truthfully he never indulged in the details of your body. why would he? at the end of the day, your relationship was largely transactional, with very few feelings atttached besides pure, unadulterated lust and passion. he knew your body the way a student might know a book for a class they had to take - they read the summary half an hour before the lesson, and have a vague grasp of the concept, but the details elude them. shidou decided for once to be a good student and learn those details for no reason in particular other than the fact that he was stuck in your apartment with you on account of him having been evicted for threatening other tenants in his old building, and the warm july night kept him awake.

so he goes about slowly studying you, trying not to rouse you from your sleep. his hand starts on your thigh, and slowly travels its circumference. you're laying on your side, back facing shidou, hair carefully tucked under your head (shidou had complained about it getting in his face while he slept before, and threatened to cut it off himself if you didn't do something about it), soft breaths escaping past your lips, and completely unaware of shidou's touch on you. he hopes you don't wake up and then misinterpret it for something more romantic and intimate than it is. he's just indulging his curiosity and trying to stave off the boredom from struggling to fall asleep.

he feels how soft you are, a fact he already knew, but never like this. he feels a slight dryness to your skin too, and thinks that perhaps you should invest in a good lotion, not that it mattered much to him. he doesn't care about something as menial as whether you're moisturising properly, but he knows you might. people less confident than him often look for silly insecurities that no one else could give a single shit about. he won't point out your dry skin. he doesn't care enough, he thinks.

his hands travel up further, and on the sides of your legs he can feel the evidence of the tight grip he held you in just hours earlier. he scowls slightly, thinking that something so unsightly and vulgar shouldn't be on you. it grosses him out a little, though he couldn't pin point why. he assumes its because someone like you doesn't deserve to have a reminder of someone like him on their body. shidou isn't completely satisfied with that answer, but he leaves it as it is, he's not a fan of overthinking things.

his hands now reach your hips. as his fingertips skate over the landscape, he feels stretch marks that go down your thighs and around to your back. he could follow these trusty guides to the back but chooses not to, he's too tired for that. instead, he follows them up to your hipbone, and he feels you stir. he retracts his hand, afraid you'll wake up and wonder what he was doing. any misinterpretation of his actions on your part could have devastating repercussions on the relationship between the two of you, and shidou makes an instant decision to lie and say he accidentally grazed his hand over you while turning in his sleep, should you interrogate him about what he was doing.

but you don't. you're still asleep, you just moved your leg a little, perhaps feeling his ticklish touch in your sleep, and assuming it was some annoying mosquito that came to feed from you while you slept. shidou waits a moment before resuming his late-night study session, listening to the occasional car drive by late in the night. light from the streetlamps and moon float into your open window, and the music from the corner shop across the road accompany it. the sound is tinny, and shidou is surprised it can even be heard all the way over in your apartment. the cashier is probably blasting it from the radio to stop the warmth from coaxing them to sleep.

a minute passes, and shidou gingerly places his hand back on your hip. with the way you've moved, he can slightly feel your hip bone poking out, and the change strikes him as a slight surprise. your soft body and his mindless journey have both been interrupted by the feeling of the hard, smooth bone of your hips. it's just a small intrusion though, and he traces it up and down with his ring finger a few times, suddenly conscious of how unpleasant his skin is compared to yours. callouses line his hands from long and difficult workouts; a figure like his came at a price. he's not insecure of them, but sometimes he picks at his callouses when he's bored and needs something to do with his hands, which in turn makes his skin raw, and lifting weights immediately becomes a much more painful activity.

amid his little sidetrack in thoughts, shidou's hand slips off of your hip bone, and ends up on your stomach. he knows for a fact that if you were awake you'd try to slap his hand off, saying that you feel fat when he places his hands on your pillowy tummy. its another insecurity that he doesn't see the value of. another pointless thought wasting space in your mind. he stretches his hand out over your lower belly, and gently tucks his fingers in on the far side, under where gravity has pulled your skin and organs to create a natural pouch. it radiates heat, and ordinarily shidou would retract his hand. he doesn't need something else to make him uncomfortably warm, not when he's already sweating slightly in the middle of the night from the hellish heatwave that feels like its attacking your apartment relentlessly. he decides this spot was made for his hand by the gods though, its the perfect size to provide him with a little grip on you, and the softness just makes it all the more perfect to hold.

the thought crosses his mind that if you were to wake up, you'd definitely misinterpret his actions. your presence is so soft and pleasant though, and your body is so perfectly moulded to fit into his grip that he decides just this one time to enjoy the feeling. he tentatively moves closer to you, yet again trying not to wake you, and decides he'll explain himself in the morning.

[almightygremlinblob]

Sibling-ism

In an alternate universe, maybe Jin and Sukuna did meet and, as it turns out…Sukuna may have a soft spot for his late twin. ⚠️Content Warnings⚠️: Unbeta'd and unedited lmao. None really, just pure fluff and sibling shenanigans between Jin and Sukuna, who has a bit of an existential crisis, and Kenjaku being mad protective of his malewife. And (because I said so for reasons unknown), Sukuna is seperate from Yuuji and is in his true form, even tho this is modern times. OOC Sukuna cuz in canon he'd probably just kill Jin again lmao A follow up blurb to this KenJin ficlet.

For the first time, Sukuna stands in a daze.

At first, he came to the open park sensing the energy of a strong cursed spirit, hoping for a good fight. Instead what he got was the thing attacking someone familiar. After a rather uneventful and one sided beatdown, he finally got a look at who it was he was sensing.

Lo and behold, right before him, waving and smiling like a maniac who wasn't staring at death, was his twin. The twin which he ate in the womb. The twin who is supposed to be dead.

Just there.

"Hiii~! I knew you'd come around if I was with a strong cursed spirit." Jin is greated by literally every nonliving thing behind and around him being cut apart. He frowns. "Hey, come on now! Is that any way to greet your brother?"

"What-I killed-but-how are you-!?"

Jin shrugs. "I dunno."

"What do you mean you 'don't know'!? How are you alive!?" Sukuna all but snarls, and Jin just shrugs again. He sighs and shakes his head, contemplating. "And what was that!? Why weren't you fighting back!?"

"I wanted you to get me!"

"You put yourself in danger just to get to me?! How are you are so…" Sukuna takes a deep breath, trying and failing to contain his anger. "…Stupid!?"

The surrounding area is further cut apart.

"Hey, don't take it out on the park! This is a nice park! I thought it'd be perfect for our reunion…"

Sukuna runs a hand over his face. "How on earth…did you elude me all these years?"

"Aaaww, you missed me!" The glare sent Jin's way would have brought any sorcerer to their knees, begging for forgiveness. Not Sukuna's twin though.

"So…Sukuna Ryomen, huh?" Jin sits down on whatever's left of the bench beside the both of them and pats on the side. Sukuna simply crosses his arms and refuses to sit. "Guess you were never really named, were you?"

"You think anyone cared enough to name a four armed freak?"

"Hey, c'mon…I care!"

"So you would name me?" Sukuna can't help the smirk that threatens to tug at his lips.

"Sure, why not? You look like uh…a Ryo!"

"That's just a shortened version of my title, Jin."

"Okay, maybe I can't think of anything right now!" Jin leans on the fourth of a bench. "My point still stands…I think?"

"Don't make me sound so pathetic."

"Hey!" Jin puts his arms up in mock defense. "You're the one who called yourself a freak."

"What do you want?" Sukuna asks, unable to stop the smirk that forms.

"Eh, just to catch up. Is there anything else other than that?"

"Tch. Typical." Sukuna shakes his head lightly.

Jin fidgets with the hem of his sweater. "I-I heard you met Yuuji already. How are you getting along with me son? I-I hope you guys-"

"The brat pisses me off!"

"He's 15, Sukuna."

"That…I-I get it! But he does! I treat him with an ounce of respect, heal his hand and revive the brat, and he continually disrespects me! No one gets that respect from me without earning it, Jin. No one! He gets it for free, many times, and he just spits at my face at every turn! He has your eyes, your hair, your face-"

"Hey, what did I do!?"

"You're stupid, that's what. Literally looking for death a second time." The bigger twin sits down on the floor, next to the broken bench that Jin was sitting on. There's a small silence, before Jin speaks up.

"Nothing to say? Nooo…'I'm sorry Jin. I take it back, Jin. Don't worry Jin, I didn't mean it!' or…?"

"See? Stupid." Sukuna lets out a long, drawn out sigh. "I don't know what I'm doing, Jin. I've been sealed for a thousand years. Fighting, eating…that's all I've ever needed to make me happy. Now that I can do that again, I…"

"There's just something wrong!" Sukuna yells, and more inanimate objects and the area around them gets further cut apart. "And I can't even tell what it is! Is it the brat? Is it the generation I'm reborn in?! I hate this! I wish I could just…go back to sleep, or something. This is the most terrible I've ever felt…"

"You know…I know what'll make you happy!"

Sukuna's eyes land on him, narrowing. "Don't you dare say I need a friend. I've had enough talk of that."

"No, no, silly! You've got me for that."

"Wow. Wonderful…"

"Oooone second…" Jin scours the area, and spots a particularly large piece of broken glass. Then, he cuts the upper part of his wrist using the shard and extends his bleeding wrist in front of Sukuna's face, beaming. "Here!"

The four armed twin takes Jin's hand wordlessly, and begins sucking on the cut - grumbling and clearly still upset.

"Don't worry, big brother's got you!"

"You were never even born, stupid." Sukuna lets out a long and defeated groan. "You always did taste the best."

"Out of everyone?! The-the…what? Thousands you've eaten? Really?" Jin cringes.

"Yes."

"You're joking! Surely I don't taste that good!" When he tries to yank his hand away , Sukuna doesn't let him and instead starts to bite at it gently like a dog with a bone - face completely devoid of emotion. Jin sighs. "Mass murdering cannibal but you can't even find good people to eat? That's like…that's like not knowing the right meat to pick at the grocery store and picking all the expired shit. Sheesh! My hunch was right, you really are a mess without me…"

Sukuna makes sure to bite a little harder and Jin yelps.

"Ow! Okay, okay! Sorry…" Jin gives up trying to get his hand back, and instead runs a hand over the top of the other's head. "Guess I really should've been there with you back then, huh? Helped at least a little bit…I'm sorry, Sukuna."

"Can you stop being stupid and sentimental?" Sukuna glares at him, but makes no move to stop his brother from petting his head, still chewing on his hand. "It's not like I regret what I did."

"Yeah, I know. Me neither." Jin sighs. "Just wish I could've done more, sometimes."

"Jin…you gave your life for me." One of his four arms comes up to make a knocking motion on Jin's head. "See? Stupid!"

"Come on man! At least think of a better insults at this point."

"Jiiin!" The both of them are snapped out of their weird moment by the sound of another voice, and the rustling of leaves. Soon, Kenjaku stumbles out - looking completely out of breath and panicked. "J-Jin! Jin, you-there you…"

"Oh, of courrrsee it's you…" Sukuna lets out an exhasperated groan as he watches the gears quickly turning for the sorcerer inhabiting the cult leader's body.

"Wha-what?! What is this!?" Kenjaku's voice breaks just above four octaves. "Jin, you're letting him eat you AGAIN!?"

"No, no! Honey, please don't be upset!"

"You-let go of his hand!" Kenjaku yanks Jin's hand out of Sukuna's mouth, and pulls his husband away from his twin - getting in between them both. "You're not going to take him back, are you?"

"It hardly matters if I do." Sukuna sighs. "He's a small enough fragment that he won't even contribute to me."

"Hey!"

"Good. I wouldn't let you."

"As if you could do anything." Sukuna scoffs. "Never thought I'd see the day you'd care about one of your many flings."

"He is my husband, and the father of my child!" Kenjaku wraps his arms around Jin protectively. "Besides, he treats me so well…"

Sukuna can practically hear Kenjaku's eyes turn into hearts, and it makes him want to vomit.

"Don't Kenjaku. I do not want to hear about it."

"Um-anyways! So, I was thinking maybe we could invite him to dinner one time?" Jin looks at Kenjaku with the biggest puppy eyes he can muster, but the sorcerer isn't having any of it.

"What?! And have him intrude on our space?"

"Oh, believe me. I don't want to intrude on anything with you two."

"Kenny, come on…he's my-"

"No."

"Please?"

"NNNO."

Jin lets out a frustrated groan. "Fine, whatever. He'll eat outside then. Sheesh…"

Jin walks up to his brother, taking out a piece of paper with his address scribbled on it and placing it in one of the other's much larger hands - barely managing to hold it with both of his own. Behind Jin, Kenjaku glares daggers at Sukuna - who is completely unfazed by the silent death threat. "Listen, you're always welcome…err, outside the house. I guess? Whatever, if you head over, I can cook you something nice! Okay? Just…"

"I get it, I get it." Sukuna sighs, and takes the piece of paper with Jin's address in it. "If I feel like it…"

Jin beams at him and Sukuna can't bring himself to look at him. "Great! You're always welcome there, brother."

"Great. Wholesome reunion! Wow! Let's go now Jiiinnn!!!" Kenjaku practically drags the twin away, leaving Sukuna to his thoughts.

--- Later That Week ---

"This is…delicious." Sukuna laughs, shaking his head slightly as Jin elbows him lightly. As per his wife's request, Jin, Sukuna and Uraume all had to resort to eating in the wooded area just outside of the house. Meanwhile, a small distance away, Kenjaku was watching them all.

"Seeee? Told you it'd be good! I made it just for you guys!"

"How did you even procure the meat without being arrested?" Uraume asks.

"Oh, I know a guy who works at a prison! He uhh...got this for me."

"Were you the one that killed him?"

"Oh no! Of course not." Jin shakes his head frantically, cringing at the thought. "I could never do that. I had somebody else do it!"

"As if that isn't the same thing." The white haired monk snorts.

For the society that closely monitored the King of Curses, this turn of events was alarming. It seemed as if, in the following months after this encounter, the death count from the King of Curses lowered. A miracle indeed.

OR, Jin saves the day and Sukuna's now happy by his twin's side and Gojo's still alive and everyone gets a happy ending AAAAAAAAA- Anyways! I just wanted to write Sukuna and Jin sibling banter and for the both of them to be unhinged - just in opposite ways. And Kenny being so downbad he becomes OOC too, lmao.

[ineffabildaddy]

i really loved this poem by @ineffable-rohese and so i wrote a quick response!!!

crowley pov, explicit content incoming

-

“Blasphemy’s always been your remit, hasn’t it, my dear?”

Oh, but it hasn’t, really.

Not as such. Not when the velvet-soft strokes of your palms and the clement caresses of your fingers deem me worthy; not when the sweetest of nothings, tumbling clumsily from your lips, pronounce me sacred; not when your belly and your knees and your heat press urgently into the scales crawling my skin and crown me holy.

I am never intertwined so tightly with the Almighty than when your teeth sink into the tenderest corners of my flesh, never so divinely known than when your tongue seeks the quivering crest of my dripping cock or the sanctified slick of my aching cunt. My mouth is your mouth, my skin is your skin, my sweat is your sweat. We are one with each other in the same way that, much as I am perpetually bound to claim the contrary, we are one with God.

You allow the tickle of your breath to raise goosebumps behind my ear as you bury your nose in my hair, and this is a purer act of worship than any kneeling gesture. You inhale the scent that lingers for you in the crook that marries my arm and my shoulder, you revel in the beckoning aroma that lives between my spreading thighs; in return, my body sings as if a joyous choir with little need for practice and still less need for an audience.

I have not forgotten that I am unforgivable. And yet, when we commune beneath the stars or between your bookshelves, I am truly at peace with what I am. After all, I know something that eludes Hell, something that Heaven will never begin to comprehend: the treasured secrets of your body, the true, animalistic nature of our divine communion. The irrepressibly human quality that blesses every patient kiss, every curious touch, every virtuous fuck.

I give to you as a saint gives all he has to the needy, as a lamb gives her life to the sacrificial stone, and I take you as a church collects a tithe, as a monk gathers the peas he has grown in his monastery garden. You do the same for me, always righteous, always guiltless, always free of doubt and question. In this, we are eternal.

The last time you came for me, you gasped a breathless ‘amen’.

If you hadn’t been spilling, gracious and reverent, into the house of prayer you had made of my mouth, I would’ve said it with you.

-

also on ao3 here:

tags incoming for those who may enjoy, hello @sad-chaos-goblin @foolishlovers @bowtiepastabitch @sabotage-on-mercury @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @crowleyholmes @greenthena @tangerine-ginger @iammyownproblematicfave @captainblou @and-his-hands-were-24-crows @createserenity

[abeautylives]

Nothing Could Compare

a/n: This was supposed to be a blurb. I needed to get it out of my brain, but in typical fashion it got out of control. ALSO, the subject matter will not be for everyone I’m sure. Read the warnings 🍑

Parts 1 and 2

pairing: Joshxfemale!reader

word count: just over 7k

summary: Trying something new can be intimidating, but love finds a way 😂

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, language, mentions of masterbation (f. and m.), mentions of sexual situations, graphic sexual content, unprotected penetrative sex (vaginal and anal - surprise! it’s about butt stuff)

“So you have thought about it.”

He sounds entirely too satisfied with himself, the smug tone is paired with one eyebrow arched so high that it’s hiding halfway underneath the curls that fall over his forehead.

He’s sitting behind you on the edge of the bathtub, watching as you finish swiping mascara onto your lashes. You make sure he can see how far your eyes roll through the mirror. “Don’t sound so proud of yourself Josh, everyone thinks about it.”

That may or may not be true, but you’ve been thinking about it more often than you’ll admit. It’ll creep into your brain when you’re alone, when you miss him and your fingers are already inside you, doing a poor imitation of his. The thought will appear out of nowhere and doesn’t release its grip on you until you let yourself give in to the fantasy. So, on occasion, you’ve let a finger slip lower until it’s circling that place you’ve forbidden Josh from going. Maybe, once or twice, you’ve pushed it into yourself there, brain screaming… I wish it was him.

He stands to sidle up behind you, eyeing your face in the mirror and smoothing his palms over your ass before running his fingertips under the lace at your hips. ���Hmm perhaps, but this is you we’re talking about. You gonna let me in, honey?”

What possessed me to even say anything?

It started with an innocent joke. Well, innocent may be an inaccuracy - Josh’s body had been laid over yours, the hot and sticky skin of his chest pressed to your back and pushing you into the mattress. While he was still seated inside your cunt, slowly going soft, he ran a hand from your shoulder, over your ribs and down your waist, stopping at your backside. A firm squeeze and a light smack later, he’d mumbled quietly, “Next time you should let me stick it in your ass.” He’d laughed as you bucked his body off of yours and slapped his arms away from you. You’d laughed as you told him to fuck off and keep dreaming.

He’s more curious than anything and would bring it up here and there, you’d made a quip about it that night at the beach house, and though his mind had been preoccupied then, he wasn’t lying when he said he believed he could convince you.

Maybe love and trust had made you more comfortable. While you’d always cared for Josh, you’d very recently confessed how your feelings had grown and changed over the last couple of months, much to his delight. Afterwards the sex had been unhurried, blanketed in devotion as you finally let love roll off your tongue when he spilled inside you.

The tipping point that convinced you to bring it up was a candid conversation with a friend. Joy always carried an air of sensuality and tended to speak freely about her sex life, which could be awkward for you considering her boyfriend is like your little brother. Often you would tune it out, but you were out having lunch together without the buffer of a Kiszka’s presence when she started to go into detail about the night prior. About Sam. You tried to focus on a particularly red cherry tomato that was eluding the tines of your fork as you poked through your salad, but something she said caught your attention.

“Wait, you’re into that?”

“Well… yeah, when it’s done right.” Her giggle is charming and genuine. “I mean, I haven’t done it with Sam, but we’ve done other things. I’ll get him there eventually.” She sounds confident and unbothered while telling you she wants her boyfriend to…

“So you want him to fuck you in the ass?!” You’ve said it entirely too loudly and a couple of disapproving faces are turned in your direction. Your cheeks turn red but you continue in a whisper, “Like… you like it? It feels good?”

Unfiltered, she described it to you and answered a multitude of your questions. “You thinkin’ about letting little Joshy…?” She wags her eyebrows instead of finishing her sentence.

“I… don’t know, I don’t know, maybe? I’m positive that he wants to.”

“Oh my god, you totally should. You have to do it right though.” She went on to explain what she meant, though you hadn’t asked. You got it. And the more you thought about it, the more you wanted it.

The more you wanted it, the harder it was to get it out of your mind. Every time he was fucking into you, whispering filthy things from above you, or behind you… your pussy would clench around him as the image flashed behind your eyelids. And Josh, none the wiser, would offer up a groan or an oh you like that honey? Little did he know.

And so, here you are getting ready in your bathroom while your sweet angel of a boyfriend waits for you. You’d been mulling it over in your head, how you were going to bring it up to him in earnest. Nothing sounded exactly right to you, so you figured you’d drop a hint and hope he grasped it.

“Babe? I wanna ask you something.”

“Ask away my love, I’m all ears.” His grin is wide and perfect, sweet and beautiful and your nerves calm when he calls you his love.

“Well, I was wondering… if you’d be interested in trying something… new.”

“Oh the possibilities! A new… restaurant? A new wine?” You’re giggling at his little display of drama. “Or… ooh is it something sexy? You wanna try something dirty, honey?”

There’s still a jesting quality to his questioning, but when he sees the way your mouth is set into a smirk, eyelids lowered, he knows he’s onto something. “Is it a sex toy? New position? Another person? Tell me, I’m dying to know.

Oh my god, it’s anal isn’t it?!”

Heat creeps across your cheeks and down your neck, suddenly embarrassed when he guesses correctly. Once you’ve admitted that you’ve thought about it, Josh is all in. Innocent curiosity shaping his features, he looks awestruck standing behind you with hands wandering over the exposed flesh of your ass and the lace of your panties.

“Not like right now, calm down.” You push your ass into his hips, forcing him to step back from you but he doesn’t go far.

Moving back in, he presses the length of his body into yours and moves your hair aside so he can get his lips on your shoulder, your neck. After a few soft kisses, he says it simply, as if it’s no big deal, “Mm you just let me know when you’re ready. I knew I’d convince you, you’re kind of kinky huh?”

He’s joking but you pretend to be offended, eyes narrowed and mouth dropped open in a silent scoff. “Watch yourself babe, or I’ll leave you out and just keep taking care of myself.”

“You’ve been doing it by yourself?!” You’re both laughing as you shove him out of the bathroom and shut and lock the door behind him.

Your date that night, a simple dinner at a less than fancy restaurant, had been filled with sly comments and lingering eye contact that had heat spreading over your skin. The days that followed were the same as you both continued to ponder over it without acting on it. Until Josh couldn’t take it any longer.

“Let me touch you,” he huffs it out with his thrusts, deep and steady into you, you’re already on your knees for him, face being pushed into your pillows.

“Yeah, please baby, m’so close,” it comes out muffled against the bedding and he knows you’re not talking about the same thing.

His hands are already gripping handfuls of the soft flesh of your ass and then sliding back to your hips to pull your body into his harder. You both curse, you call out his name and ask him again to touch you, please. Hands moving cautiously over your skin, he brings them back to your ass and squeezes so hard you think you’ll have five tiny bruises on each cheek tomorrow. His touch turns gentle despite the pace he’s set with his hips, and he spreads you to him, giving him a sinfully clear view of where he’s moving in and out of your cunt. But also…

“Wanna touch you here, please honey, tell me I can.” His voice is laced with desperation but he needs your permission.

You’re completely wasted on him right now, drunk on lust and love, you don’t hesitate.

“Do it do it, c’mon.”

“Fuck, okay baby,” he tests the waters first by slowing the rhythm of his hips and brushing the pad of his thumb over you, the first time he’s ever touched anyone there. Your skin is soft and warm and the whine that escapes your throat encourages him to do it again with a little more pressure. The sound that breaks through your lips is feral, a pleading moan.

“God damn, okay I’m doing it,” he reaches forward first, bending over your body and presses his thumb to your bottom lip, pushing it down and forcing your mouth to open. You accept it greedily onto your tongue, wrap your lips around it fully before sucking it in and coating it with saliva. “Fucking hell babe,” he whimpers when you suck it further into your mouth before opening it and releasing him.

Resituating into position, he’s stopped thrusting into you momentarily, dick throbbing but unmoving inside you as he focuses on the task at hand. As soon as he’s touching you again, swirling wet circles over you, you’re begging him for it.

“I will, I will. I don’t wanna hurt you-“

“You won’t Josh, I’m ready,” you cut him off and your words rush out of you, causing him to wonder just how often you’ve been tucking your fingers inside in secret.

He’s still nervous but you’ve begun pushing back against him, forcing his cock deeper inside you and his thumb to press harder against your hole. You’re mumbling low words of encouragement from below him and as they float up to his ears, the tip of his thumb crosses that forbidden threshold.

You can’t stop the hiss of air that you suck through your teeth.

“Fuck baby, are you okay? Do you want me to-“

“More, keep going. Please please please, keep fucking me.”

And he does, watching as he pulls out of you almost completely before crashing his hips into you and slipping his thumb deeper. Just a little. He keeps it tucked there just to the first knuckle as he finds the rhythm he’d lost, fucking into you rapidly, he can tell he’s close to finishing and the pleading words tumbling from your mouth are only pushing him there faster. He’s not expecting it when you say it.

“Fuck me with it, I can take it.”

He’s struck dumb by it, can’t find the words to offer even an affirmation, all he can do is what you’ve asked for. Moving his thumb at the same pace as his hips, he watches it slide out and get sucked back into you.

“Holy shit, I’m gonna cum babe I’m sorry-“

“Me too, me too don’t stop - oh fuck.” As if you spoke it into existence, your orgasm steals any other words you may have wanted to say, along with the breath from your lungs. When your muscles tense and your back arches, pushing your ass against his pelvis, he lets go with you. He can’t bring himself to move or relax when it’s over, his finger is still inside you so deeply that his palm is resting flush against your lower back.

“It’s okay, just do it slowly.”

He chuckles but doesn’t move yet. “How’d you know what I was thinking?”

“Because you always drop as soon as we’re done,” you tease, “and you haven’t moved a muscle. You’re not gonna hurt me.”

He’d eased himself from your body and left to clean himself up, returning to do the same for you.

For days afterward he wouldn’t stop pestering you for information.

What did it feel like?

You definitely liked it?

Should we get some… I dunno, some toys or whatever?

Wait, do you already have some?

And his most persistent question, “Can we do it again?”

He’s so naturally gentle and eager, and when the boys have to leave for three weeks he texts and calls you more often than he might have in the past. He misses you and spends what little free time he has thinking of you, dreams drifting to you almost nightly and causing him to wake up hard and frustrated. When they return home, he’s at your house as soon as he can be and though you’ve had many reunions over the years, this is your first since you told him you loved him too. Your pairing is frantic and demanding, hands and mouths making up for lost time and as you lay together after, he tells you that everyone wanted to get together and grab dinner that evening and your presence had been requested. Excited to see them, you drag him from the bed and into the shower with you and you end up getting to dinner late.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen the girls, not since before the guys had left, and once you and Josh have made it to your seats and ordered your drinks you’re all catching up on the last month. Your phone, lying face up on the table, lights up and you see it’s a text from Joy who’s sitting well within your line of vision, across from you to Sammy’s right. Curious what she would have to say that she couldn’t out loud, you snatch it up and hold it suspiciously close to your face.

Joy 💋: Soooooo? Did you do it?

Me: Lol nosy bitch

Me: No, not quite

Joy 💋: What are you waiting for?! We talked about it forever ago

Me: Idk I think we’re both nervous, he got scared he was gonna hurt me with just a finger lmao

Joy laughs aloud at her screen, offering a wave of apology and brushing Sam off when he asks what’s so funny.

Joy 💋: Girl you better take what you want, Josh would give you the moon if he could

Joy 💋: And all you want is a dick in your ass 😜

It’s your turn to laugh and you throw your phone back to the table. Feeling left out, Josh drapes an arm around the back of your chair and leans in to your ear. “What are you two devils talking about that’s so hilarious, honey?”

“None of your business, considering it was obviously a private conversation,” you turn your head to place a placating kiss to his cheek, but he catches your face in his hand and wraps his fingers around your jaw. He soaks it in when your eyes go wide and lock onto his, revels in it when he can feel the rest of the group watching. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but it isn’t the soft placement of his lips to yours as his hold on your face loosens and turns into a caress of your cheek. You raise an eyebrow in question when he pulls away.

“I’ll find out, I saw my name. That makes it my business.” He scans the other faces around the table with his eyes and finds they’re all trying desperately to ignore you both now aside from Joy, who keeps watching with a cheeky smile on her lips. When he brings them back to you he smiles, sweet as candy. “I love you honey.”

The distinct feeling of whiplash has a grip on you but his face, precious and pure, pulls the sentiment from your lips.

“I love you too Josh.”

“Awwwwwww!”

“Shut up Sam,” Jake leans across the table and reaches an arm out to slap the side of Sam’s head, then brings it back to the table to wrap his hand around Jita’s as he reclines back in his chair.

The rest of dinner passes without incident and you feel happy and whole being back together with your favorite people. Josh hasn’t put any distance between you since he’d wrapped his arm around your back, and even when he removes it his hand finds your thigh under the table. After a couple more drinks it’s started to wander, and you let it until he’s moved it so close to your cunt that the side of it is pressing into the center seam of your jeans, moving rhythmically as his fingers draw figure eights on the inside of your thigh. It doesn’t occur to you to stop him until a soft whimper floats from your mouth and out over the table.

The movement of his hand stops instantly and his face snaps to yours. Everyone’s does, actually.

“Josh if you don’t take her home and fuck her right, I’m going to! Byyyyeee!” Joy exclaims then dissolves into a fit of giggles as you and Josh both turn red, lips opening and closing but no words forming. Jita’s hand is over her mouth and her own cheeks are pink with transfer embarrassment.

Sam is cackling, a loud raucous sound, but Jake remains silent as he watches the scene unfold. Seated to your right, he reaches his left hand over to tap the underside of your chin and close your mouth before he leans in and does the same to Josh.

“Go home, the innocent patrons of this establishment have seen and heard quite enough, I’m afraid.” He’s shooing you off with his fingers while the others try to regain some semblance of composure.

You’re not sure how to react so you just do as you’re told, standing from the table and looking back down to Josh. When he turns his body to you he stays in his seat but meets your eyes with his.

“Let’s just go, Josh.” You speak quietly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself. “Please.”

You’re simply asking but to his ears it sounds needy. Imploring. Like you’re begging. He feels his heart rate jump as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and holds it there with his teeth, analyzing you. His eyes darken slightly but you can see it happen, even in the dim lighting. As he releases his lip he takes a sharp breath in and on his exhale he says, “Yeah, okay honey. Let’s go.”

He pulls his wallet from his back pocket when he stands, going to leave enough cash with Jake to cover the two of you but Jake waves him off again.

“Get me later, have fun tonight.” A knowing smirk settles on his lips.

You both mumble an awkward goodbye to the table and walk toward the front of the building, but by the time you make it there you’re practically running. Outside, you race through the parking lot and pause to catch your breath when you reach either side of the car. Staring at each other over the roof, Josh cracks first. It’s a soft chuckle to start and as it turns into a belly laugh you can feel your own begin to bubble from your throat. You’re both wiping tears from your eyes as your laughter dies and Josh speaks.

“Get in the car Y/N, we have things to discuss.”

Confused but compliant, you get in and he follows suit. Once he’s pulled the car out of the parking lot you ask what exactly it is you need to talk about.

“First of all, I love you,” he pauses as you reply instantly, confirming that your feelings are the same.

“Second of all, I lied. I saw your phone, what Joy said. Don’t do that with your face, I wanna talk about it. I was… doing some research while I was gone.”

“Research, huh? What kind of research?”

“Okay just hear me out,” he continued on, babbling past the incredulous look on your face as he started listing everything you should do, an entire game plan worked through in his mind that he spouted off to you as if he was reading it from a textbook. You let him keep going, let him get every thought out of his pretty little head, but when he pulls your car into your driveway and parks, you reach a hand over the center console and place it high on his thigh. The contact stops his words short.

“Josh, babe… I’m really glad you’re excited about fucking me in my tight little ass,” the words feel foreign in your mouth but his eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head and you’re infatuated with his reaction, “but I don’t need you to tell me how to do it. I don’t need to hear what’s best for me. I'd rather hear you beg me for what you’ve been wanting, what you’ve been asking for for almost a year. I wanna hear what you fantasize about. Tell me how it goes when you’re thinking of me, alone in your bunk in the dark…”

You can actually see his brain short circuiting, his lips are parted and no sound comes out aside from the breaths that he’s working hard to control. When the pink tip of his tongue darts out to run over his bottom lip, you watch the limited light shine off of the slick moisture left behind.

You give a squeeze with your hand that’s still on his thigh, then pat it lightly. “Lemme know when you figure it out, handsome.”

You leave him in the car.

By the time he makes it inside, you’ve already poured a glass of wine for yourself and one for him and made yourself comfortable on the couch. He pads into the living room slowly, running a hand through his hair where you watch it get stuck in his curls. When he tugs it free and looks up from the floor, you hold his glass out to him and pat the cushion next to you. He throws himself onto the couch, legs spread and head leaned against the back, wine glass cupped in both hands in his lap. You’re about to say something but he beats you to it.

“It usually starts slow,” his words are quiet but confident, he knows exactly what he wants to say. “Not every time, but I do always like to think about you going down on me. You look so pretty with your mouth full of dick.” He picks his head up to make sure you’re listening, but you're already spellbound and pulsing with need.

“You do. And I can picture it so clearly when my eyes are closed, I can almost feel it. I think about it just to get hard, works like a charm.”

He stops talking just to look you over. Your eyelids are already heavy and your bottom lip is held tight between your teeth. With a nod of your head, you encourage him to keep talking.

“I think about your pretty, pink pussy when I touch myself.” One of his hands has released his glass to touch himself now, adjusting himself in his pants. “Warm and wet, nothing compares to the real thing but I do what I can. I have a pretty vivid imagination, but my memories of you are better.”

You can feel yourself soaking your panties, this is better than you’d thought it would be. You always love it when he talks dirty - the words sound depraved coming off his sugar-coated tongue, normally so sweet. You press your thighs together and shift against the cushion of the couch.

“Keep going…” it’s a breathless whisper.

His eyes are now focused on the glass in his lap, on the finger he’s running over the rim. “Of course honey… See, I have to get creative with my hands but I’ve almost perfected it, it almost feels like you. Never as soft though.

And when I’m close to cumming, that’s when I have to imagine it. Because I’ve never done it, I don’t know what it feels like but I do remember how you felt around my finger. Hot. Tight, unbelievably tight. So soft, softer than your cunt, your mouth. I have to make it up to picture it, but I think about sliding it in, the way it felt when my thumb slid in, how you sucked me in. I hardly ever make it farther than that before I’m making a mess on my hand, my stomach.”

He leans forward to set his glass down, untouched by his lips. You set yours down too after taking a deep drink. A drop is rolling down your chin when you face him but he reaches up and catches it, his hand cupping your jaw. Instead of wiping it away he pushes it back up your chin and between your parted lips. He lets you suck it from his skin before he drags his thumb over your bottom lip and watches it bounce back into place.

“Josh, I-“

“You gonna let me in, honey?”

As if you could say no.

“Yeah… yeah, I want it.”

His hand is still on your jaw and he uses it to pull your face to his, your lips to his. It’s soft as he shifts your bodies so he’s laying over you, one leg between yours and the other foot planted on the floor. He pushes his knee against your core and you immediately roll your hips into it and let a whine out over his lips.

“Let me take you to bed,” he breaks from your mouth and breathes the words into you, “fuck you real dirty, princess.”

He rarely calls you that anymore, and never in moments like these, but right now it sounds wicked and wrong. Just like what you’re about to do.

“Please.”

Lifting you both from the couch, Josh hands you your wine and you each take a drink from your glasses, you finish yours, before taking his hand and walking ahead of him down the hall to your bedroom. There he disrobes you and you help him do the same, taking a certain amount of care but not moving too slowly. You’re both throbbing and leaking, incapable of waiting any longer.

Once you’re naked you tell him to get in bed, and he figures you’re in charge tonight so he does what you ask and props himself up against your headboard. His cock is resting on his stomach and leaving droplets of precum on the skin just under his navel.

“Need you inside babe, I hope that’s okay.” He loves foreplay, you both do, but his immoral storytelling in the living room has left your arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs and you can feel the slick slip of it as you walk to the bed to climb on and crawl to him.

“Whatever you want, honey. You’re already giving me everything I’ve dreamed of,” he laughs quietly but you’re dead serious right now.

Crawling into his lap, you’re straddling and hovering over it, gripping him immediately, slipping the head of him through your folds. You lower just enough to tuck him inside before you lean forward. He thinks you’re going to kiss him, puckers his perfect lips, but instead you lick a stripe over his bottom one and then speak against it.

“Call me princess again.”

Before he can question it, you’re sinking down on his cock slowly, rocking your hips until his are flush against yours and he’s seated deep inside you.

“Fuck, anything you want princess. Dirty girl, c’mere.”

When your arms wrap themselves behind his neck he thrusts up into you as he pulls your head in and forces your lips open with his tongue. He fucks your mouth with his as he picks up a shallow rhythm with his hips, fucking your cunt as his hand grips your hair at the roots. His other hand, having found its home on your hip, slides in toward your pussy and he runs his thumb over your slick flesh wrapped around him before bringing it to your clit. When you groan into his mouth he pulls your head back hard and fast, you gasp as your eyes meet his.

“Want you to cum for me, cum on my cock. I need to feel it, we don’t know what’s gonna happen once I’m in your ass.” The last words come out through clenched teeth, his jaw tight. He knows what he’s doing, knows his voice is going to make your cunt squeeze him. It works, and he keeps his thumb moving against your clit, tight circles, not too hard, not too soft. He’s playing your body like it’s an instrument and he’s classically trained.

“Jesus, Josh, you feel so fucking good babe, I’m almost there, so close.”

He doesn’t change his motions with his hand but he can’t help but fuck up into you just a little harder.

He also can’t help it when his grip on your hair tightens, just the tiniest bit, and he yanks your head backwards. It forces your back to arch and the fire burning in your belly explodes, a string of expletives mixed with Josh’s name burst forth from your mouth.

“God damn princess, that’s right, keep going.” He doesn’t stop thrusting into you until your muscles go lax, then he pulls you to his chest and goes still for a few long moments, petting over your hair and running his fingers down your back. He’s pressed your face into his neck so you leave kisses there, lap your tongue over his skin to taste his sweat.

“You did so good for me honey. We can stay like this for a bit, if you want.”

“Mmm. M’not ready to stop,” you mumble into his shoulder as you lift your hand to point a lazy finger to your bedside table. His eyes follow and you tell him, “There’s lube in there. Don’t ask, unless you wanna know.”

His laughter rumbles through his chest. “I’m sure I can imagine what you’ve been up to. Shit, I have imagined it. Lay back for me, I’ll grab it.”

He helps you climb off of his dick and out of his lap, lays you gently against the mattress toward the foot of the bed before rolling to dig through the drawer of the table.

“Princess… What is this?” He's already tossed the modest bottle of lube to the bed, but when you crack an eye open in his direction, he’s holding a pair of cute little pink silicone toys between his fingers, one a little bigger than the other. You knew they were in there, knew he would see them.

“Ummmmm, plugs?” You giggle, unashamed.

“Have you been… practicing? I don’t even know what you call it.” He’s mystified by your nonchalant tone.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you make sure he’s paying attention. “Josh…” He tears his eyes away from the pink pieces of silicone to look into yours. “I told you, I want this, and I’m ready. Come fuck me.”

Dropping them from his fingers, the plugs land back in the drawer and he climbs back up and over your body, his dick is hot and heavy against your thigh. He leans in and runs the tip of his nose over your shoulder and up the side of your neck before whispering in your ear, “You really are a little freak, aren’t you princess? You had me fooled.”

“Hmm you bring it out of me, what can I say? You’re so sweet and pure, makes me wanna dirty you up.”

“Fuck, let’s do it then, roll over.”

You do it quickly and once you’re on your hands and knees you have to grip the bedding to calm the shakes vibrating up your arms. Josh already has the cap open on the lube, but he notices.

“You okay? You can always back out.”

“I’m good, I’m good. Excited.”

“Maybe we should have a, what do you call it, a safeword? Just in case. I really want this but I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you.”

You turn your head to see him over your shoulder. “We can just use colors, if you want. Red, yellow, green? Pretty self explanatory.” He nods his head in agreement before bringing himself up to his knees and moving between your legs. His hand finds its way between your thighs and he runs two fingers through your slick before nudging them inside. When a satisfied hum slides up your throat and your head drops forward, he pulls them out and swirls them through your folds again to gather as much of your release as he can.

“Fingers first honey.”

“Yeah, do it, please Josh.” You sound fucked, and he supposes you are.

The way your legs are spread, your ass is already presented to him on a figurative silver platter, but he can’t resist using his other hand to grab a handful of one of your cheeks and squeezing it, spreading you further. When his fingers land between them, your body jerks forward in surprise.

“Ah ah, relax and take it princess.”

Fuck.

His slick fingers move against you and you’re both already whimpering, him at the sight and you in anticipation. When he adds pressure, your whimpers turn to whines.

“You want both?”

“Yes, please, now Josh!”

Crossing them slightly, his middle finger over his index, he pushes them past your entrance and feels it as you immediately clench around them, barring him from going further.

He whispers, “Relax, I’m gonna take such good care of you.” You know he’s right, regardless of his inexperience, he’s going to make you feel good no matter what. He always does. You feel the tension release from your muscles and he does too, as soon as he’s able to he pushes his fingers deeper.

A guttural moan rips from your throat and he starts to work you over, pumping them in and out of you slowly until they’re inside you as far as your body will allow.

“Jesus Christ Y/N. You’re so fucking tight, I don’t know if I’m even gonna fit.” His voice sounds strained, like just the thought is pushing him to the edge. Or the thought of not being able to get inside you has him distraught. You can’t tell, your brain is buzzing, body thrumming with pleasure.

“More, keep going.”

He works them out, in, a little faster and your arms give out, face landing on the mattress. It immediately strikes Josh that this is exactly how you’d been propped up and begging for him when he first touched you like this.

Leaning to the side so he can see your face, he finds you with your eyes closed tight and teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your hands have a white knuckled grip on the comforter.

“Color babe?” He says it softly, quietly.

“Green green, so fucking green, don’t stop.”

He leans back up to watch his fingers move, smiling to himself. He quickens the pace again and sees it when a drop of your arousal slips from your pussy and creeps its way down your inner thigh. His free hand moves to wrap around his dick and strokes it slowly a couple times.

“Oh, honey. Your pretty little cunt is making a mess, let me slip it in just for a minute, fill you up all the way.”

Your head just nods wildly against the bed, but he sees it. Fingers pushed deep inside you, he grips himself a little harder and runs the tip over your wet skin before sliding in easily to the base.

You moan in unison and he thrusts his hips into you slowly, pumps his fingers at the same rhythm.

“Yesyesyesyes, fuck babe it’s so good,” you’re whining, sound like you’re on the verge of tears and it has him pulsing against your walls.

“You’re so fucking good, letting me fuck both of your holes, you’re filthy babe. And all mine.”

Jesus.

“A little more, just a little more, want you inside,” he’s already buried deep inside you but he knows what you want.

“Yeah princess? You need me inside your tight little ass? You’re already taking me so well,” his throat constricts, if he keeps going like this he’s gonna cum before he’s ready.

“Please, do it now Josh, I need it!”

He slams his hips against the back of your thighs, does it again and curls his fingers inside you at the same time. When you curse, he slides himself from your cunt slowly, watches as he withdraws and his dick bobs in the air once it’s left you. Pulling his fingers back gently, he also watches you close around nothing once you’re empty.

“Fuck, okay,” a little overwhelmed, he reaches around you for the lube and quickly squeezes some out into his hand and strokes it over himself. “Shit.” He adds a little more then swipes what’s left on his fingers over you. From above you, eyes raking down the curve of your back and down at what he’s about to do, he lets a string of spit fall from his lips.

It lands at the top of your asscrack and he watches as it rolls down, rubs it over you.

“Ready princess?”

“Do it, fuck me, take me, do it do it.”

He shakes his head in disbelief that you’re real right now, his curls shake around his cheeks, the ones over his forehead are stuck there.

With a hand wrapped tight around himself, he runs the head down from the top of your crack following the path his saliva had taken. Looking at the scene before him, he’s still not convinced that the head of him, swollen and flushed, is going to fit. With a thumb pressed to it, he rubs it over your hole and pushes into it.

“Relax honey, relax, let me in.”

You focus on loosening the tension in your muscles, sinking further into the bed.

“Good girl baby, so good for me…” He pushes into you again and has to close his eyes and take a deep breath as soon as he sees and feels your body accept him. The sounds spilling from your mouth combined with the intense pressure of you wrapped around the tip of him are almost too much. You’re murmuring below him, a string of please and more, you’re almost sobbing it.

With a strong grip on your hips, slowly, so slowly, he pulls your body to his. Only about half of him is inside you when you push your ass back and he disappears into it.

You’re both cursing, panting, sweating.

While your body adjusts to the size of him, you stay still for a moment.

“Green?” Your voice lilts in question, sounds entirely too innocent and sweet for the moment. It makes him chuckle, but the movement forces a groan past his lips.

“Heh, yeah, my favorite color. I’m not gonna last, wanna fuck you hard, fast. You want that?”

“So bad, let me have it sweet boy.”

He retreats from you just as slowly as he’d entered, pushes his hips flush to you again. Repeats it until he’s sliding easily in and out of you. He can’t stop himself from dropping his head and spitting on you again, hitting his target and watching as it spreads over him as he moves through it. When he picks up speed you call out to him, not needing a response, just needing him to know that it feels good, perfect and full. When he’s worked himself up to a bruising pace, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your backside, you push your face into the comforter and bite down on it. You’re tiptoeing the border between pain and pleasure, you know he’d stop if he knew but when a pathetic whimper is absorbed by the plush fabric of the bedding, he goes even harder.

“Can you cum for me, do you think you could?” He can hardly breathe and he has to force the words out.

You mumble a confirmation and reach a hand back, tuck it between your thighs and find yourself soaked, slippery. Without grace or precision you start swirling circles over your clit. He feels it when your body clenches around him, impossibly tighter as you choke out a sobbing breath.

“Holy shit, you’re amazing. I can’t believe you’re real… I’m close, so fucking close.”

“Hold it for me, wait for me, I’m almost there Josh, almost there,” your muffled words turn into incoherent babbling and he struggles to maintain composure, wanting to do whatever you ask, trying to hold out for you. Until he can’t.

“Baby I can’t, fuck fuck fuck-“

His hips stutter and he slams your body to his, the feeling of his release, hot and deliciously wrong, pulls you down with him. The comforter is released from your teeth when you scream, the sound of it steals whatever air he had left in his lungs and his body doubles over, draped over your back. His weight forces your knees to slip over the surface of the bed until you're both flat against it.

Neither of you can speak as your breaths heave, you're dragging air in past your teeth the best that you can and even if you were able to, you’re not sure you could find the right words just yet.

Josh can feel himself smothering you and with shaky arms he lifts his chest from your back.

“Just go slow.” It comes out as a whisper, all you can manage.

He moves his hips off of you slowly, suddenly terrified of hurting you, but you sigh at the loss of him once he’s gone. Wordlessly, he runs one hand down your back before climbing off the bed and leaving the room. You hear the sound of the water running in your bathtub, and when he returns he’s wearing a soft smile.

“Let’s get cleaned up, honey.”

He scooped you up off the bed and carried you to the bathroom, didn’t put you down until he was over the tub and easing you into the water. He slipped in behind you and pulled your back to his chest, leaving kisses in your hair and whispering love and praise into your ear.

Though his inquisitive mind was turning, he resisted peppering you with questions until the next morning.

I didn’t hurt you, right?

What did it feel like?

You definitely liked it?

Should I have done anything differently?

And his most persistent question…

Can we do it again?

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[tildeathiwillwrite]

Writemas Day 3: The Tale of the Fallen Reaper

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Prompts: Burning

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 900

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@the-ellia-west @agirlandherquill

CW: death mention, murder mention

Thea found a secluded corner of the library, her latest finds stacked up next to her as she settled onto the floor. For a long moment, she stared at the books, threads of despair curling around her. What if she was chasing a red herring? Going after the faint light in the darkness, only to find herself more and more lost.

The only lead she had was the barest scrap of memory from her childhood, from a story her mother read to her out of a book of myths. One that spoke about invisible creatures who hunted in the silence. Kore had confirmed the story's existence, remembering the same tale. But their mother had borrowed the book from the library, and none of them could remember the title or author.

Hence why Thea was in the library when she should have been helping Kore arrange Caelum's funeral.

Just the thought of Caelum brought tears to her eyes, the faint burning sensation behind her nose. Thea bit the inside of her cheek and picked up the first book on the stack. Over the past three days, she had poured over nearly every book with even the faintest possibility of containing the elusive story. With each passing day, she grew more and more restless.

Thea finished skimming through the first book in a matter of minutes. It was a longer tale, one about a journey home, with many adventures along the way. None of them had anything to do with invisible hunters, so it was useless to her. Thea set it aside and picked up the second book.

This one was no better. A small collection of stories all about curses and true love. Thea handled it a bit rougher than she should have when she slammed it on top of the first, her mood worsening by the second.

She reached for the next one---wait. The third book in the stack next to her was not the same book she had taken from the shelf. That one had a green cover, with the fancier golden lettering. This book was different, still green, but a lighter shade, with plain black lettering on the cover.

Frowning, Thea glanced about the floor, as if it had slid off the stack somewhere. Had someone taken it without her noticing?

She looked down at the book again. Children's Myths and Fairytales, Volume II, by M. Halcyon. It certainly appeared to belong within her rhetoric. Perhaps she had simply misremembered the books she had taken? Not entirely out of the question, sleep had eluded her lately.

Sighing, Thea flipped open the cover and glanced over the table of contents. The Raven and the Fox. The Spires of the Fairy Queen. The Rabbit and the Trap. The Tale of the Fallen Reaper.

Thea frowned at the last story listed. Reaper? Fallen?

...could this be the one I need?

She didn't want to get her hopes up. For all she knew, the story had nothing to do with the one her mother had told her and her sister when they were children. But from the title alone, her heart leaped with excitement, and she quickly flipped through the book until she found the page where the story began.

Everyone knows about the existence of reapers. Or, how they used to exist, many years ago, before you or I were born.

Even when they were well-known, reapers didn't act often. They only came after the worst of the worst, after those who did horrible things and still walked free. They would emerge when their target least expected it, and unnatural, utter silence followed wherever they went. A rare occurrence, when the reapers struck.

And that was how it was supposed to be. Rare. But one day, one of them wondered why they must abide by the morals of humans to determine who to hunt. For reapers are not human. In fact, they cannot be seen by humans without the help of certain tools, and only interact when they carry out their duties.

"What difference is there," he asked himself, "between one human killing another out of anger, and another killing out of defense? Are not both killers? What, then, of other such crimes? What of liars and cheaters? Why is the line for a reaper where it is?

He did not ask the others of his kind these questions, because he knew he wouldn't like their answers. This reaper tested their ways cautiously, for he did not know how his peers would perceive him should he be caught breaking their rules. A person who kills just because she can, then a person who killed in the midst of fury. Then one who killed out of duty. Then one out of defense.

As he waded deeper and deeper into the waters of rebellion, the reaper found he enjoyed disobedience far more than obedience. He did not understand the nature of humans, and how he had, in his rebellion, become just like them.

The other reapers discovered his disobedience. And they were not happy. They ousted him from their ranks, stripping him of his power, and exiled him from their hidden lands, forcing him to wander the human world as punishment for what he had done.

That is the price of evil. This reaper was not punished because he questioned the rules, but because he freely broke them regardless, and caused sorrow and tragedy in the process. The end.

Thea stared at the page for a long moment. She had found it. This was the story her mother had read to her and Kore all those years ago.

...now what?

[zeldynymph]

"Where winter never rests..."

Wholesome content Swearing

Enjoy! <3

“When the time is right…find me where winter never rests…”

Gary stood at the precipice of uncertainty, grappling with the profound void that enveloped him; emotionally adrift and physically adrift as well. All that lingered in his possession was a faint whisper, a fleeting clue to YN's elusive whereabouts, leaving him haunted by the fear of never reuniting with her.

He comprehended her motives for departing, resonating deeply with her weariness of the ceaseless and interminable conflict. However, the enigma behind her decision to stage her own demise eluded his understanding.

His recollections were confined to an explosive moment, a deafening roar, and the calamitous collapse of a structure burying YN beneath its weight. He bore witness to the official report, the declaration of her demise; marked as KIA in an instant.

Apart from Gary, only Captain Price was privy to YN's elaborate scheme from its inception, granting her unequivocal authority while temporarily suspending her status. He knew all too well that wherever YN ventured, adversaries would follow, meeting their demise at her hands.

Undeterred by Price's warnings, Gary remained resolute in his quest to reunite with YN, willing to vanish into the night like a phantom, mirroring YN's elusive departure. Yet, this wasn't a tale of saccharine romance; it was a visceral testament to reality; a man driven by an unyielding desire to reunite with his beloved, the woman whose essence had captivated him repeatedly.

In a firm resolve, he packed his belongings, the once-familiar confines of his barracks room and locker now reduced to hollow echoes of their former existence.

“Gary, please. Rethink your decision… YN left for your safety…”

“Respectfully, I don’t give two fucks, Price. I NEED to find her…”

Gary anticipated the inevitable reprimand that would follow his candid exchange with a superior. Nevertheless, his longing to reunite with YN eclipsed any fear of consequences. The mere thought of her hand in his, nestled safely within his embrace, was an anchor of solace in his turbulent world.

YN's sudden disappearance had morphed into an all-consuming abyss within Gary's mind. Had he not been privy to her true intentions, he might have assumed her departure signalled a loss of affection toward him.

Despite an inner turmoil urging him to resent her departure, he found himself incapable of harbouring such sentiments. YN occupied a place in his heart that surpassed mere affection; she had become the very essence and purpose of his existence.

“Goodbye, Price. If anyone asks, I died from a broken heart…”

As the seasons shifted and time raced by in a blur, Gary remained resolute in his determination to locate YN before the year drew to a close.

Reflecting on his parting exchange with Price, Gary couldn't shake the sense that his words might have carried a hint of melodrama. Nonetheless, he dismissed any lingering concern over his tone. His focus was unwavering, anchored by a singular motive, unclouded by any other objective.

Find YN.

Gary had traversed boundaries he never envisioned crossing, pushing the limits he once deemed insurmountable. His relentless pursuit took him from the remote outback of Australia to the tranquil yet elusive Pacific island of Kiribati, then onwards to the harsh and unforgiving tundra of Greenland. Every corner of the globe became a canvas for his search; every high point, every crevice meticulously scrutinised.

But as December dawned, a cloak of disillusionment, anxiety, and, most venomously, fury enshrouded him. He seethed with self-directed animosity for not uncovering YN's whereabouts sooner, for failing to stand by her side, and above all, for letting her depart in the first place.

With December 8th looming, a mere 23 days until the completion of the Earth's orbit, Gary grappled with the impending dissolution of his promise; a promise to find YN that was on the brink of shattering into mere fragments of a futile dream.

It took Gary months to decipher the cryptic clue YN had left behind: "Where winter never rests." Yet, upon its revelation, a surge of hope coursed through him, reigniting his fading determination. His resolve was rekindled, burning brighter than ever before.

“Please be here…”

His frame quivered with the biting chill, navigating the unforgiving snowy landscape of Svalbard. Each step burdened by snow clinging to his boots and clothing, coating even his eyebrows, lashes, and the stubble adorning his chin with a delicate frost.

Submerged in temperatures well below freezing, his physical form numbed, yet an internal fire blazed within, defying the cold's grasp. Hope, fervent and unwavering, illuminated his path like a beacon mirroring the ethereal dance of the Northern Lights in the night sky.

Guided by the celestial stars above, he pressed on, a relentless march, one foot preceding the other.

The relentless snowfall had long since concealed his trail. Gary comprehended that if YN remained elusive, his exhaustive efforts would amount to naught. Yet, he adamantly clung to hope, afraid that a single misstep could whisk YN away, her essence dissolving into the snowy expanse.

His lungs seared, pleading for respite from the frigid assault. Temptation flirted with his resolve, dangling the option of relinquishing his quest, of turning back and concluding the search entirely.

Then, a silhouette emerged, bathed in the celestial glow of the Northern Lights. Their gaze skyward, surrounded by falling snow, evoking an otherworldly presence.

In an instant, determination surged through Gary's veins. With unwavering resolve, he sprinted toward the figure, his feet sinking into the deep, unforgiving snow with each determined stride.

“You found me…”

Gary enveloped YN in a tight embrace, their bodies collapsing into the snowy expanse, his lips instinctively seeking hers in a rush of affection. Despite a tumult of emotions surging within him; desire to vent his frustrations, a yearning to shout or even resent her; he found himself incapable of such sentiments. He had found her, at long last…

YN's lips retained the familiar sensation he had longed for. Her warmth radiated just as he had etched in his memory. Her tender caress echoed the love he had missed intensely. 

Gary teetered on the brink of tears, yearning to release his pent-up emotions, finding solace in her embrace. Reunited with the core of his existence, his beloved YN, she was his anchor in a world of uncertainty.

Gradually pulling back, Gary cupped YN's cheek tenderly, locking eyes with an unwavering commitment and devotion that spoke volumes before uttering all but four words…

“I have found you…”