#wake up and smell the polyamory

[captainbfresh]

Can you believe that Eddie has a crush on Buck but Buck has a crush on Tommy but Tommy has a crush on Eddie what fresh hell is this

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”

[hayakawalove]

A Spoonful of Medicine

Summary: After recovering from a brief bout of illness, you find yourself craving sex. Of course Satoru and Suguru come to your rescue.

A/N: I would definitely try to get myself to be sick so they could take care of me. Also cause I want them to fuck me but that's not the point.

CW: Smut, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Sick, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Spit Kink, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Top Suguru, Switch Gojo, Creampie, Fem Reader, AFAB Reader

W/C: 4,018

Soft. 

Soft fabric greets your skin as your body rouses awake. You were certain that you were laying on clouds among the gods until your eyes open. Your room fills your vision, your eyes slowly coming into focus. 

You check the bedside clock, the time being 11:00 am. 

Fuck. 

You had slept for 13 hours. 

You turn back to look at the ceiling, slowly waking up fully. Trying to recollect memories from the previous night you find yourself coming up empty handed. The farthest you got were bits and pieces of Suguru and Satoru, their warm hands gentle as they cradled you while you drifted in and out of consciousness. While your brain tries to gather the pieces together, a soft scent floats over to you, a mix of meat and spices. 

Wait. 

You can smell? 

It had been days since your nose worked, but now it felt suddenly clear, the scents of the room overwhelming you. You were able to smell Satoru’s cologne on the tshirt you wore, along with the detergent of the sheets below you. In addition to that, you were able to smell something coming from the kitchen. 

Suguru must be cooking. 

Where was Satoru? 

You had been sick for the past four days, nearly bedridden with a cold that hit you like a freight train. The two boys had been at your beck and call the entire time. You almost felt smothered by the amount of love they poured into you. It felt good though, to be cared for. 

You sit up and throw your legs off the side of the bed while stretching them, your joints cracking as you shake off the nearly day long slumber. Turning to the nightstand, you grab the thermometer that Suguru had left. With a beep you shove the stick in your mouth, pulling it out when the time is up. 99 F. No fever. You didn't feel sick. In fact, you felt refreshed. Better than you have in a long time. 

You crumble up the front of your shirt, bringing it up to your face. Several large whiffs later you feel your head swoon. It had been days since you were able to smell him. 

He preferred to wear woody colognes, the addicting cedar scent covering you entirely. 

Satoru comes in wearing a face mask, holding medicine in his hands. 

“Wake up bunny, it’s time for your next-“ he slides in the room, looking at you. 

“You’re up.” 

“I’m up.” 

He walks over to you, inspecting your face. 

“You don’t sound like a 70 year old smoker anymore.” 

“And you still sound like an idiot.” 

Satoru chuckles at your feistiness. He missed it. He knew to start getting worried about you when you didn’t bite back. 

Satoru sets the medicine on the bedside table. Now that he was up close, you were able to get a good look at him. He looked good. He usually did. Okay, he always did. His white hair was fluffy, with bright blue eyes poking out above the mask. He was wearing a black shirt and boxers. Fuck, he looked… 

“Hello?” Satoru’s bending over, waving in front of your face. 

You get even more flustered once he’s up close. The smell of his shampoo and body wash, an intoxicating mix, over flows your senses. You weren’t freezing from a fever anymore. No, you were hot. Undoubtedly, earnestly, hot. It was almost hard to breathe under the heat of his gaze. 

He lifts up a hand and grabs your chin, long fingers splaying on the side of your face. He tilts your head side to side, inspecting something, before facing you forward again. Your stomach burns with need, fingers tingling at the close proximity. You had been so sick you almost forgot what it felt like to be anything but ill. Even if you could forget it, your body hardly did. A familiar sensation builds up between your legs as your eyes lock with Satoru’s. 

Something comes over you, and you’re ripping off his mask. 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise but he doesn’t have time to ask you what you’re doing as your lips are on his in an instant. You hold his shoulders tight, your lips melding to his. If you could fuse with him, you would. Satoru hums against your lips before pulling away, looking deep into your eyes. 

“What, are you trying to infect me? That’s low, even for you.” 

“Want you.” Your voice comes out soft. 

Satoru audibly swallows, face flashing as if he’s considering it. 

He always did give in faster than Suguru. 

“You need to rest.” 

“No, I need you.” 

It’s hard to not pick up on the desperation in your voice. If it were any other time, Satoru might make fun of you. He couldn’t bring himself to make a quip this time though. Not with the way your eyes dragged across his body, your mouth twisting and turning. 

Your pussy tingles, your body finally catching up to four days without sex. Yeah sure you were hungry and thirsty, but more than that you were horny. 

Satoru wets his bottom lip, stepping closer. His lifts his knee between your legs, towering over you. He was even more beautiful up close. 

“Yeah? Careful what you wish for, bunny.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down. Lips lock and tongues dance. He tastes like cereal, sugary goodness embedded in the plush of his lips. You move backward, allowing him more space. His body inches closer to yours as he crawls on the bed, his large body covering yours. Even though there are only centimeters between you two, you make up your mind that he isn’t close enough. Satoru is pliable, body easy to move as you throw him on his back, crawling on top of him. There’s a hunger deep in his eyes as he watches you take control. Your chest heaves as you stare down at him, not knowing where to start but knowing you needed to begin somewhere. 

You smash your lips against his, anticipation pouring from you. It had been days since you touched him, days since you tasted him. The second he opens his mouth, your tongue curls against his. You groan in response to the flavor of his spit. He feels like heaven beneath you, his muscles perfectly molding against yours. You grind your hips, searching for some sort of friction and his cock begins to harden underneath you. Satoru’s hands take hold of your hips, easily gliding you back and forth over him. 

Satoru didn’t think you were sick anymore, but even if you were he wouldn’t care. 

Each time the pressure of his cock nudges your clit, you let out a moan. There were layers of fabric between you two, but it almost didn’t matter. Your entire body was overtly sensitive, your skin tingling with excitement. You buck your hips back forth over him while your tongue explores his mouth. Satoru lets out soft grunts whenever your lips parts from his. 

You don’t pay any mind to the door creaking open, much rather focusing on the man below you. 

Suguru walks in the room with a tray of food in his hands, his long hair flowing down his back. 

“Is that your way of getting her to take her medicine? I guess that makes sense for you Satoru.” 

Satoru tries to pull away to bite back a smart remark but you aren’t having it, chasing after his lips with yours. 

Suguru walks in the room, setting the tray of food on the beside table. He didn’t feel like he was interrupting anything, so he made no move to rush out. If anything he was curious. Last night you could barely get up to go to the bathroom and now you were devouring Satoru. Above all else, he wanted to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself. 

The presence of Suguru didn’t deter you at all. You only had the man below you on your mind. Lips lock as you move your hips faster, the pleasure beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. 

Suguru slowly walks around the end of the bed, choosing to sit at the edge next to Satoru’s head. 

He speaks your name in a reprimanding tone, eyes narrowed in on your head. You whimper against Satoru, refusing to part from him until Suguru says your name again. 

It forces you out of your stupor, making you raise your head up to him. He looks weary, his eyes hollow with dull hair. Suguru hadn’t been sleeping much this past week. He wanted to be awake in case you needed anything. It was so very him. A pang of tenderness shoots through your heart at the sight of your other boyfriend. They were wearing themselves thin taking care of you. But all you could focus on was taking more. Your lungs pant as you look at him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” A stupid question at best, he knows what you’re doing. 

Your teeth dig in your bottom lip while you try to move against Satoru again. 

“You’re sick.” The way he says it makes it sound like it’s the end of the conversation. 

“No I’m not, I feel okay.” Your voice catches him by surprise. 

You did sound better. 

He lifts a hand up and places it against your forehead, trying to check for any signs that you were still burning up. 

“Do you?” 

“Mhm.” You fidget beneath his watchful gaze. 

The way he was looking at you made you to feel so exposed. Like a live wire laying next to a puddle of water. 

“Alright I guess, as long as you don’t get Satoru sick too. I can’t handle two sickly babies.” 

It’s an attempt at a joke, one that would normally get you. You’re too needy to laugh, instead choosing to resume ministrations on Satoru. You press down until you feel his cock against you again. The pressure against your clit forces a moan from your throat. He felt so fucking good beneath you. You bury your face against Satoru’s neck, your breaths coming out in quick succession. Suguru places his hand on your head, stroking your hair while you rub against Satoru. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself. It was instinctual really, to keep his hands on you at all times. Satoru was the same way. Goosebumps crawl over Satoru as he feels your breaths against his skin. 

Your body moves faster, your moans sounding more salacious. Up and down. Up and down. You slide your pussy against Satoru, setting the perfect pace. Satoru’s hard cock presses against your nub, your soaked underwear clinging to you. 

More, just a little more… 

Satoru holds your waist, his long fingers digging into your tender skin as he drags you back and forth. It was almost embarrassing how fast you were able to make his cock hard. Honestly, he didn’t know how much longer he would last with the way you were going. Your whimpering floats over to his ears, immediately breaking any cogs that might have been working in his head. 

It doesn’t take long until you’re pushed over the edge, reaching a breaking point as you cum fully clothed rubbing against his cock. Your movements still while the noise dies down. 

“Did you just cum?” Suguru asks, disbelief highlighting in his tone. 

The boys know exactly what you sound like when you cum, they were just surprised as it had never happened so fast before. 

You nuzzle further into Satoru’s neck, trying to soak up his warmth. You groan against his skin, feeling the aftershocks rush through your body. 

“Felt good.” 

Your words are almost inaudible against him. Pushing yourself up on your hands you stare down at Satoru. His cheeks are flushed, eyes blown out. 

“Get on my face.” Satoru says, his words breathless and almost pained. 

You mean to question him, but there’s no room for debate, not with the way his eyes are trained on you.  

You shimmy off his body, swiping your clothes off. Even though you just came, your body was still hot, lust burning your skin as each second passed by. Suguru watches as you crawl on top of Satoru’s face, sticky cum covering your pussy. So swollen and needy, Suguru could feel his mouth start to water. Satoru sticks his tongue out and pushes it through your slit, relishing in the moan you let out. 

Suguru’s eyes are hazy when you look at him, desire pooling in the depths of his caramel gaze. Your pussy clenches when you meet his eyes. Satoru definitely noticed, as he lets out a groan into you. You look down and see Suguru’s cock beginning to harden in his pants. Fumbling with the zipper, you slide his cock out. 

Beautiful, every part of him was beautiful. 

It’s hard in your hand, drops of precum pouring from the tip. You wrap your hand around him, sliding down his cock. Suguru shudders at the motion, his abs tightening. He and Satoru didn’t get up to anything while you were sick as they were too busy doting on you. 

He didn’t realize how much he needed this until it was actually happening. 

Euphoria washes over him as your hand slides along his cock. He throws his head back with his eyes closed, enjoying how your skin feels against his. He loved Satoru’s skin and hands as well, but there was something different about the softness in your palms. He lowers his head and spits on his cock, body tensing once your hand pushes the spit down. 

“Just like that baby.” Suguru coos, lips barely parted as he stares down at your fist. 

You whimper, watching as Suguru’s spit covers his cock. It’s a filthy sight, the way his saliva spreads around. Heat rushes to your core as Satoru swipes his tongue through you. When you came in your pants, Satoru really had no other choice but to clean you up. His large fingers press into the soft skin of your thighs, leaving you no room to squirm around. His tongue grazes against your clit, forcing you back down when you try to jump away from the contact. Normally he would chuckle at your sensitivity. But he was incredibly serious right now. You started all this, so you were going to take it. 

Suguru groans softly as your hand glides against his cock, he was hard as a rock as your hand tightens around him. He really wanted you to rest all day today but fuck, he couldn’t complain with the way your fingers swiped his tip. 

You did seem better, he reminds himself. 

“Satoru, I can’t take it.” You murmur, his tongue dragging out a slew of moans from you. 

“Don’t focus on him baby, focus on me.” Suguru asks, trying to keep his composure. 

He tilts your chin to look at him, staring deep into your eyes while your hand strokes him. You had been with the two men for years, and been in love with them for even longer, so why did the intensity of Suguru’s gaze knock you off your feet every time? You dig your teeth into your bottom lip while letting out a whine, the suction on Satoru’s mouth only increasing as time passes. 

Suguru watches your face morph from pain to pleasure and back over, and he briefly thinks about asking Satoru to slow down. He doesn’t though, he would never admit it but he secretly gets off on the cruelty they show you. He likes the way you push them away, only to be begging for more moments later. 

Satoru isn’t prim and proper as he eats you out. Your room is filled with the sounds of his mouth laving your pussy, the noise embarrassing you. 

“So fucking noisy Satoru.” Suguru murmurs, reaching a thumb up to glide across your bottom lip. 

You grind your hips harder against Satoru’s tongue, letting out a moan once his lips wrap around your clit. 

“Does it feel good, baby?” Suguru speaks lowly, hypnotized with the way you were using Satoru. 

“Yes, fuck, yes.” 

Suguru hums at your answer, clenching his teeth while you rub his cock. 

“Think you’re ready for more?” 

You’re at a loss for words so all you can do is nod, very desperately. Suguru cracks a grin before deciding he can’t wait any longer, standing up and moving you off Satoru’s face. Satoru looks delirious under you, your cum smearing across his lips and cheeks. He looks like he wants to complain, but he keeps his mouth shut. Whatever Suguru says, goes, and Satoru is aware of that. 

Suguru lays you down on the bed, spreading your legs so wide it almost borders on painful. He slides in between your legs, giving you no time to catch your breath while he rubs his cock down your pussy. 

“You scared us princess.” He murmurs, pushing his cock inside you. 

Your eyes roll back in your head as you feel him stretch you out. 

Suguru’s face pinches as he bottoms out, your pussy giving him little to no room to move. You hadn’t been sick for that long, but it felt like it. His cock had begun to forget the shape of your walls. It seemed you did too, your pussy stretching far more slowly than normal. But that didn’t matter, he would mold you once more. 

Satoru pouts behind Suguru, briefly appreciating his form before scooting up beside you. He slides his clothes off and grabs your hand, guiding it towards his hard cock. 

Your body moves on impulse as you squeeze him, thoughtlessly guiding your hand up and down his cock. The both of you look like a wreck, while Suguru looks like he’s only getting started. 

Suguru watches the minuscule changes in your expression as he pulls out, before slamming himself back in. The moan you let out is pornographic. He almost blames you for how fucked you’re gonna get because honestly you gave him no choice looking and sounding like that. 

Your eyes feel droopy, but you refuse to shut them. The sight of the two men before you makes your mind run, your body already so close to cumming. 

Satoru, his head rung low, bangs obscuring his beautiful eyes as you pump his cock. His stomach tightening each time your fingers reach his tip before gliding back down. 

Suguru, whose face was the definition of sinful in the way he watched you, pressing his cock deep inside your pussy. 

It’s almost impossible to divide your attention between the two. Each time you slow down on Satoru, he lets out a begging shaking breath, but whenever you lose focus on Suguru he’s fucking into you faster. 

It’s like they were competing for your attention. 

Suguru grips your other hand and brings it to his mouth, pushing your fingers past his lips so he can suck them. The feeling only increases your sensitivity, making your moans come out louder. 

He pulls them out and you throw your head back when you notice the saliva dripping from your fingers. He was so fucking hot, and he didn’t even try. He guides them to your pussy, resting them against your clit. Your pussy was soaked already between your cum and Satoru’s spit, but that didn’t matter. You would gladly accept whatever Suguru gave you. You try to circle your clit, but you can’t. Not at the pace that would get you off. 

Suguru slams into you, tilting your hips in a way that makes his cock rub against your gspot. He notices that you’re having a hard time focusing on rubbing your clit so he slows down, pulling his cock out before pressing it back in.

Cute, he thought. Your poor little head could hardly focus on everything at once. 

Your legs trap his hips in, fingers starting to move faster. Both men have their eyes on you as you moan, body contorting as you inch closer to the high. 

Fingers skip along your clit as you feel yourself clench around Suguru. Desperate moans fall from your lips as your vision goes dark. It comes on suddenly, your body shaking beneath Suguru as you cum. They let out moans watching you, their bodies reacting to the way you sound. 

It hits Suguru harder than it hits Satoru. He can feel the way your pussy clings to him, the way your body trembles beneath his large frame. There’s no reason to take it easy on you anymore so he starts fucking into you more at a rough pace. His cock pounds inside you, teetering between pleasure and pain. Your hand flies up to grip his chest, fingers slippery from your cum. 

“Come on baby you can take it.” He finds himself saying, noticing the way you try to back off. 

“No I- it’s too much, it’s too much.” You plea, his cock penetrating you. 

He loves how pathetic you sound. 

Your pussy clings to his cock as his hips slow down, his cock jumping as he cums inside you. It almost feels like he’s suffocating with the way you grip him. He stills completely, relaxing in content. It felt like a weight was lifted off his chest when he came. 

Satoru shakes you both from your post sex bliss. He’s a mess beside you, body slick with sweat with a jutted out lip. 

“Aw, poor baby.” Suguru says, eyes glazed over as he watches Satoru. 

“Shut up.” Satoru has no bite to his tone. 

Suguru’s eyes narrow at the comment. He leans over, cock still plugging you up, and grabs Satoru’s face. 

“Watch your mouth.” 

Your pussy clenches at Suguru’s tone. His lip quirks up at your reaction before he trains it down. Your hand rubs Satoru’s cock faster now, body trembling at the idea of making him cum. The noises he lets out were a mix between hot and cute. He liked acting all tough, but you knew whenever he was in the sheets his voice betrayed him. 

Your hand tightens around his cock, brows furrowing when his hips jump to meet your hand. You were so eager to watch him fall apart in front of you. 

“F-fuck.” Satoru’s delirious as he murmurs to himself. 

His cock was so hard it hurt. From the taste of your pussy on his tongue to him watching Suguru fuck you, he could hardly take it anymore. 

“F-fuck, hah, I,” Satoru groans your name. 

Suguru watches your slippery hand tug Satoru’s cock. He did feel a little bad that Satoru hadn’t finished yet. Suguru leans down and lets his teeth dig into Satoru’s throat, sucking lightly. The mixture of sensations causes Satoru to hurl closer to the edge. He humps your fist pathetically as he grabs onto Suguru’s hair. 

“G-gonna cum.” It’s hard to hear him over the sound of his cock in your hand. 

Suguru reaches a hand down, covering yours, and starts to rub Satoru’s cock. The feeling of his palm pressing into yours makes you squeeze Satoru harder. He groans at the pressure, his stomach flexing. 

Satoru cums hard in both your hands, the white silky liquid overflowing your fingers. Suguru removes his hand first, licking his fingers as he slides out of your pussy. 

It’s hard not to complain at the feeling but you keep it in. You use a towel that Suguru provides to wipe up Satoru’s cum. Your body feels way heavier, sinking into the bed after everything. Satoru flops beside you, always extremely needy after sex. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into his body. 

Suguru stares at the tray of food, his brows pinched. 

“Guess I’ll have to heat that up.”

You chuckle. Eventually you would eat, but for now all you wanted to do was lay down with the both of them. 

“You don’t need to feed me anymore, I’m feeling better.” 

“I can tell.” Suguru murmurs. 

The boys laugh at you as you all push together, fitting together like a perfect puzzle, warmth spreading between you. 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @constawrites

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[borathae]

"I’m honestly so free use with you when I sleep", you told him after a very passionate morning in the sheets. That was weeks ago. Right now, your confession is haunting Jungkook. Free use, you called it. Free use...The words sound sweet to his pleasure twisted mind. Free use... Jungkook gulps and chases the ecstatic feelings your sleeping body gives him. One more time. He needs it one more time. 

Alternatively: After accidentally turning Jungkook on before you fall asleep, you wake up to him using your willing body to get off. Not that you mind, as his reward for your submission is as sweet as honey.”

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, polyamory!AU, Camping Trip!AU, Smut 

Warnings: switch!Jungkook, subby!Reader, he calls her Mistress at first but then gets so needy that he takes the lead, Yoongi makes a short appearance, hints at various threesomes, hints at bondage, sex in a camper van, needy!Jungkook, consensual free use kink (free use in this story = you can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want), consensual somnophilia, kinda sensory deprivation because he does all of this to her in a dark room & she can’t see, Koo has sensitive nipples, nipple sucking, he rubs his nipples against her lips as she sleeps, he humps her thigh while she sleeps, and plays with her pussy while she sleeps, big cock, vampire fangs, needy begging, body & breast worship, strength kink (he rips her clothes & pins her down), dirty talk, sloppy oral (f.receiving), fast pussy fingering, lotsa drool & slick, squirting, he cums humping the mattress, cuddly aftercare, they’re in love & very needy for each other

Wordcount: 5.4k

a/n: besties, it is finally happening. Sanguis!Kookie is getting the smut he deserves. Get ready for lots of it because I am obsessed with him. I fucking LOVE him. This is set once he learned how to control his urges. Oh yeah, and it’s a Kinktober22 request that didn’t make the cut, surprise it’s here now! Have fun! 🤍

Today was a first for you and Jungkook. Your first ever couple trip. It wasn’t far. Just four hours by car to a small coastal town where every restaurant offered seafood and the air smelled of ocean. He drove while you napped.  

You spent the first day putting up your camper van by the beach and checking out the camp side. You spent too many minutes in the ocean and even napped under the shade of a big tree, cuddled up in a spacious hammock where Jungkook stole way too many kisses from you. Later in the evening – and after washing off the salt from your bodies and putting on pretty clothes – you went to eat at one of the restaurants where you ended up talking about too many things and drinking way too much wine.

It resulted in you getting so sleepy that you had just about enough energy to walk back to the camp side, wash up and fall into bed. The movie night you promised Jungkook was cancelled as you fell asleep five minutes after your head hit the pillows. 

Jungkook was left gawking at you with a big pout. He didn’t even have time to wash up and cuddle you in bed and you were already sleeping. 

Feeling utterly defeated, Jungkook leaves the camper to talk with Yoongi on the phone and make way for his frustrations.

“Hey, Kookie”, Yoongi picks up after the second ring, “what happened? Are you okay? Why are you calling me?”

“Yes, we’re okay. I’m sad. ___ already fell asleep because she drank too much wine.”

Yoongi chuckles fondly. 

“She’s cute”, he says, shifting on the chair in the music room. He was writing music on the piano before Jungkook called. He is smiling because hearing Jungkook’s voice makes him happy and hearing about your shared day makes him even happier.

“Yeah she is. Fuck hyung, it’s so unfair I want her but she’s asleep.”

“I can’t help you with that”, Yoongi says in a laugh, “why are you telling me?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know who else to tell.”

Yoongi laughs harder, “you are so silly sometimes, Kookie. Just enjoy your time with her, slip under the blanket and hold her. Listen to her sleep, kiss her neck. She’s so soft when she sleeps.”

Jungkook presses his legs together even when standing up. You would fit so snugly against his chest. Jungkook can perfectly imagine just how warm and soft you would feel. How you would press against the spots which are so incredibly sensitive. Jungkook shifts, feeling heat threaten to gather between his legs.

“Kook?” Yoongi’s voice rips him out of his thoughts and to his reality. Shit. He completely forgot that he was talking with Yoongi on the phone. Jungkook feels his cheeks heat up at the realisation.

“Y-yeah?”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“Yeah uh, yeah I did. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Mhm I could tell”, the fond smirk in Yoongi’s voice is obvious to Jungkook.

He flusters.

“I’m so stupid for calling”, he mumbles, “I’m sorry hyung, I know you can’t help me.”

“It’s alright, kiddo. You know you can always call me, yeah?”

“Mhm, yeah I do.”

“Good”, Yoongi says and chuckles softly, “I gotta agree though. I can’t help you. You gotta help yourself.”

“I know”, Jungkook whines, “shit, I’m just nervous.”

“Why? It’s just ___.”

“Exactly”, Jungkook widens his eyes, “I’m so scared to lose control.”

“Kookie”, Yoongi’s voice was soft but carried the slightest hint of a scold with it, “if there was even the slightest possibility that you could lose control, I wouldn’t have let you go on this trip. You are ready. Trust in yourself, my lovely.”

Jungkook smiles giddily, “thanks, my hyungie. I needed to hear this.”

“Always happy to help”, Yoongi says, “now stop talking to me and hold our princess, you fucking deserve it, goddamn it.”

Jungkook chuckles, “yeah okay, you’re right”, he giggles, “I’m excited, hyung.”

“Mhm, you can be. She feels like heaven.”

They end their call soon after. Yoongi will continue playing piano, but he will do so with a soft smile ever so slightly present on his lips. Jungkook returns to your camper van, sneaking a glance at your resting form. You are sleeping peacefully with your mouth agape in soft snores. Jungkook finds himself melting at the view and wanting to cradle you against his chest. He perseveres however, sneaking away into the small bathroom to clean off the day.

Jungkook returns after some time, wearing nothing more than a pair of satin boxers. He tiptoes to the bed and crawls on top. He knows that he can be careful without even having to try. Sneaking comes natural to his race. A vampire is, after all, meant to surprise its prey when they least expect it. 

He opens the blanket to slip inside. You roll to your back and then to your side. Jungkook halts, holding his breath. Your eyes open, searching for him in the darkness. Jungkook can see you perfectly, while you are clearly blind.

“Honey?” your voice is frail in sleep. 

“Go back to sleep”, Jungkook whispers. 

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Nightmare?”

You shake your head, eyes focusing on his face. At least you think that you do. You are looking right past him. Jungkook thinks it’s adorable. 

“I want snuggles”, you say and pout. 

Jungkook feels flutters in his tummy. You are so cute when you’re sleepy and a little tipsy. He closes the distance between you and him and picks you up just to rest you against his chest.

You rub yourself against him like a cuddly cat, humming softly.

“So nice”, you mumble, burying your face in his naked chest, “I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, my honeybee”, Jungkook says, kissing your hair, “sleep tight.”

You huff out air, running your fingertips along his waist. Jungkook feels goosebumps cover every single inch of his body because of it. 

“I dreamed of you”, you whisper slowly and very quietly. 

“You did?” Jungkook is melting under your touch, squeezing his legs together.

“Mhm, you moaned for me.”

“I did?” Jungkook croaks, rolling his hips into you as inconspicuously as possible, “why?”

“I made you cum”, you say and wrap your lips around his nipple to suck softly. 

“Ah”, Jungkook gasps, parting his lips. His body shudders, his cock throbs instantly. His nipples are his weak spots. You are so warm and wet around him. 

“Oh god, why are you doing this?” he chokes out, fighting every urge inside him not to take you against the fucking sheets right here and now. It’s like you pressed a button. He feels fucking charged.

“Is nice”, you murmur and continue to suck on him in rhythmical motions, growing slower and slower as the seconds turn into minutes.

Jungkook is a mess by the time your sucks are barely there, trembling in desperation and moaning into your hair. His cock is straining his briefs, his fingers twist the pillow behind your head. He would probably hurt you if he didn’t, because the only thing he truly wants to twist is a bundle of your hair. He would be way too rough if he did, having to twist the poor pillow instead.

“Oh god, honey”, Jungkook croaks, giving you a breathy moan afterwards. If he knew that he would get to feel something so incredibly good, he would have joined you in bed sooner.

You suck and suck and…suck and…stop. Your lips part and slip from his swollen nipple. Your tongue leaves it too. 

“Please don’t stop”, Jungkook begs, releasing the pillow to caress your head, “please? More?”

“Hm”, the sound you make is barely there. Your tongue darts out and licks his sensitive nipple. Soft, slow, barely there kitten licks is all he gets, but Jungkook is so charged in pleasure that he feels no different than when you sucked him. 

He moans instantly, closing his fingers around a bundle of your hair before he realises what he was about to do and he grabs the pillow instead.

“Thank you”, he sighs, "this feels so good. Oh god, it feels so good…”

Lick. Lick. Lick. Slower and slower. The pressure gets less. You breathe on his wet nipple. Like a huff of air. Involuntary and definitely not meant to stimulate him. Jungkook still moans and squirms. Your tongue stops.

“More please”, Jungkook begs, arching his chest into your mouth. Your lips press against his nipple, but don’t move. They simply rest on him and drive him insane. “Mistress?” Jungkook gets out.

No answer. You grow soft in his arms and seconds later, your breathing returned to a slow and steady rhythm. You have fallen back to sleep, now resting safely in his arms. 

You left him in his desperation. You used the sucking as nothing more than your way of relaxation. And while you found peaceful sleep through it, Jungkook is left feeling like bursting. His cock is so hard, his balls so swollen and his nipple is so sensitive that one little pinch would be enough for him to soak his boxers in slick. 

Jungkook pulls you closer and sobs softly.

“Don’t do that to me please”, he begs, “please wake up again please.”

Sleep however doesn’t release you and Jungkook is left with a painful hard on and sensitive nipples begging for attention. 

“Please wake up, please”, Jungkook begs, trying to wake you with a little shake of your head. You don’t wake, but what does happen is that your lips rub against his nipple. Jungkook moans softly, quickly realising what he just did and going up in flames as a result. 

“Sorry”, he gets out, “I, I didn’t mean to, I-”, he hesitates. It felt so good to do. Your lips are so soft and warm and still wet from all the licking you did. Would it be disgusting of him to do it again? Just one more time? 

There is a part of him which tells him that he is disgusting for wanting it and another part of him which keeps reminding him of that one conversation you had a few months ago. 

“I’m honestly so free use with you guys when I sleep”, you told Yoongi and him after a very passionate morning in the sheets where Yoongi woke you with oral while Jungkook jerked off and watched, “as long as you make sure that I don’t get hurt, you can honestly use my body however you want. Wake me with your cock stuffed in me if you want to, I’m so down.”

Back then, your confession resulted in Yoongi and Jungkook fucking you to the point where you cried from feeling too good. 

Right now, your confession is haunting Jungkook. Haunting and tempting and turning him into a version of himself which he feels very ashamed of. Free use, you called it. Free use…The words sound sweet to his pleasure twisted mind. Free use…

Jungkook gulps and squeezes the back of your head with his fingers. One more time. He presses your head closer and moves his chest. His nipple rubs against your lips. 

“A-ah hng”, he gets out and swallows audibly, feeling his cock twitch in his briefs. The feeling was indescribable. Your lips are so soft and wet. Now that sleep is keeping them relaxed, they are moving around his nipple sloppily. 

Again. He needs it again.

Jungkook presses into you and grinds his swollen bud against your lips. Electricity shoots down his body and moves his cock in a throb.

“Oh god”, he moans, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I’m sorry, it’s so good. I’m sorry.”

He grinds his nipple into your lips and moans. It feels so good. You made him so swollen and hard and sensitive that now he is dizzy because of it. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t stop”, Jungkook whimpers, “Mistress, you feel so good.”

You give him no answer. You are slumbering peacefully. 

Jungkook presses himself closer, hoping for more of the sensation. He needs more of your mouth. More. You mewl and move your head away. He was too close, air was too sparse. 

Jungkook shimmies back, staring at you with glassy eyes. His nipples are throbbing. He wants more, but he knows that he should give you a break. He was greedy enough. 

He cups your cheek, runs his thumb over the lips he used so disgustingly before.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers, “I’m so horny, I didn’t know what I was doing.”

He has no idea why he apologises. He knows that he can do that to you. He was witness when Yoongi did far kinkier things to your sleeping body. He witnessed when he tied you to the bed and woke you with his fingers buried inside your already soaked pussy. And he was witness how you sleepily tried to fight the ropes only to beg for Yoongi’s vampire cock seconds later. And he was witness as Yoongi gave it to you, pounding into you until even the last ounce of sleepiness was fucked out of you.

Jungkook was witness to all of it and yet he still feels as if he committed a crime. He would feel far more terrible if his cock wasn’t that hard and his thoughts weren’t stuck on that night all of a sudden.  

“Oh god, I can’t help it”, Jungkook croaks and rolls you onto your back. He pins your hands against the pillow and wiggles his knee between your legs. Then he straddles your thigh, hovering above you that way. His curly hair hangs into his features messily, his blown out eyes are glued to your sleeping form. 

You look so innocent and sweet. Yoongi was right, watching you sleep is the best thing ever. It makes him feel so goddamn good. Especially when you look and feel so fragile under him. He feels so needed and strong, but also incredibly horny.

Jungkook angles his hips and rolls them against your thigh.

“Ah, hah ah”, he moans, squeezing your hands. Your thigh is grinding right against his swollen, hard cock. Slick covers his tip instantly, forcing his briefs to stick to it and making it slip against your naked thigh. 

You aren’t wearing panties. Jungkook can see it from the position because when he flipped you onto your back, your shirt slipped up your tummy and the blanket fell from your torso. Your pussy’s right there. Exposed to his eyes. As if you wanted to give him as little hurdles as possible. As if you wanted him to be able to access your pussy whenever he wanted to. 

Free use. 

You weren’t lying.

Jungkook moans throatily, punishing you with harsh rolls of his hips. He is aware that the only person that punishes is himself as this results in his cock rubbing against you with such vigour, Jungkook finds himself convulsing in reaction. 

“Fuck”, he rasps, “fuck, I’m so disgusting”, he chokes out and whimpers, “and you’re so perfect”, he gets out and furrows his brows, eyes focusing on your pussy. 

Maybe he is imagining it, but you are glistening. As if you are getting wet. Jungkook puts your hands together so he can hold both your wrists with one hand, then he lets his other run down your body. Along your arm, lingering on your neck and massaging your breasts for a while. 

You whimper, but don’t wake. 

“You’re perfect. Completely perfect.”

Jungkook speeds up his hips against your thigh, soaking more of his briefs. So fucking soft. You’re so soft when you sleep.

He runs his hand further down your body, your tummy is one of his favourite spots to touch. So soft and pretty. Next your hips. Jungkook fights every urge inside of him not to bruise it. Then your pussy. 

You moan in your sleep at the first touch, writhing underneath him as he drags his fingers through your folds. 

Jungkook trembles and squeezes your wrists. 

“So wet”, he growls, feeling his cheeks tingle as veins appear on his skin. He draws circles on your soaked entrance, looking at it with blown out pupils. The sexy dream you had before must have turned you on so much that you got wet. Jungkook moans and fucks your thigh in desperation. So wet and warm. So warm…

He wants to push inside, but doesn’t dare to. So he lifts his fingers, guiding them to his lips to suck them clean. 

The second your taste touches his tongue, Jungkook knows that he is done for. His eyes glow ruby instantly and his fangs are outside within not even a second. He moans deeply, cock ripping through his briefs from the sheer animalistic need he feels. Your thigh is covered in his slick instantly, resulting in his swollen cockhead to slip and slide all over your skin.

He moans, fucking your thigh as if he was already pounding your pussy. He is so turned on. He could cum right here and now if he wanted to. You are so goddamn sweet.

Jungkook sucks his fingers until even the last of your taste is gone. He slips out and moans deeply. His eyes don’t know where to look. Your pussy, your thigh, your tummy, your face, your tits. Your tits. Your nipples are swollen even under the fabric.  

Jungkook doesn’t think, he acts. He is too far gone to think. He rips your shirt and exposes your torso to his eyes. Your tits look so pretty when you are lying down and gravity does its perfect job. 

“Fuck, baby”, Jungkook whimpers and gathers one side in his spit covered fingers. He lowers himself and sucks your nipple into his mouth. 

“Ah”, you moan, arching your back. The scent of your wetness grows stronger in his nose and Jungkook swears that he sucks even harder because of it. He slides up your body, pressing his knee against your soaked pussy. 

A whimper slips past your lips. Jungkook soaks up the sound as much as he soaks up the feeling of your wet cunt against his knee. He rubs it into you demandingly, abandoning your wrists to instead gather your other breast as well. Hungry and full of greed, he leaves a sloppy trail of kisses on your chest as he changes sides. Your nipple slips between his fangs and he sucks hard. 

“Ah”, you moan, arching your back, “what? Ah! What?”

Jungkook lifts his head. You are awake again. Of course you are. It would have been a surprise if his rough touches hadn’t woken you. Your eyes search for him in the darkness. You look so out of it and confused.

“Don’t be scared”, Jungkook rasps, “I’m taking care of you.”

“I don’t get it, w-what are you doing?”

“You can’t just suck my nipples and expect me to be okay afterwards. I’m so fucking hard, feel it”, Jungkook grinds his huge cock against your thigh, pairing it with his knee grinding into your pussy. 

“Kook”, you moan, reaching for his hips.

“No”, Jungkook pins your hands above your head within a second, “stay where you are or I’m tying you up.”

“W-what?” you blink in the darkness, “I don’t understand. What are you doing?”

“Free use. That’s what you called it. Free use. I’m taking what’s promised to me.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook watches in delight as you roll your eyes back sensually. You arch your back off the sheets and throw your head back as best as possible.

“Holy fuck”, you choke out, rubbing your thighs against his legs in a needy attempt to press them together. 

“That’s okay with you, right?” he makes sure, “can I make use of it?”

“Yeah, fuck Kook. Yes”, you allow him, opening your legs again as you squirm sensually.

“Good. Wanna exchange safewords?”

“Mhm, snowdrop.”

“Yeah, snowdrop. Fuck, I’m gonna fucking ruin you”, he rasps and lowers his tongue to your body to lick a thick and hungry stripe down your tummy. 

You writhe and whimper, allowing it to happen with a racing heart. Like this, he isn’t holding your wrists anymore, but he doesn’t have to. Your body is still droopy enough that keeping your hands above your head is an easy task to do. 

It does get harder however when Jungkook buries his tongue between your folds. You expected anything but this. 

“Ah! Kook”, you gasp, bucking your hips up. 

Jungkook grips them and pins them into the sheets, growling into your pussy as he sends you a warning look. One you can’t see because it’s dark in here and you have your face scrunched up in pleasure.

Jungkook fucks the mattress and moans, changing his grip on your hips to one around your thighs just so he can push them apart and reveal more of your pussy to him. He growls again from the pleasure this brings him, burying his hungry mouth deeper between your folds. He licks eagerly, using the animalistic hunger he feels for you to keep it quick.

“Holy fuck, please don’t stop”, you moan, panting like crazy afterwards.

The thing with Jungkook and oral is that up until two months ago, he was unable to do it with you. He wanted to do it, but his urges were too strong to do it safely. If he had given you head, it would have resulted in him biting you and therefore hurting you. Not anymore. Jungkook has been practicing with you and Yoongi almost every third night. It was the result of one terribly sexy evening where Yoongi tied up Jungkook and then made him eat you out “as practice”.

Ever since then, Jungkook couldn’t get enough. He was insatiable, asking for more practice sessions whenever he gets the chance and fantasising about nothing other than having your pussy under his tongue again and again and again. 

Your taste haunts him. It stays with him when he isn’t eating your pussy and it tortures him with its absence until he has to beg for yet another “practice session” in order not to go mad. You are all aware that calling them practice sessions is nothing but a lie. Jungkook found his sweetest drug between your legs and needs it like an addict. He doesn’t want to practice, he wants to get high on you. And you won’t complain. Practicing with Jungkook feels like fucking heaven. 

And tonight it seems that he finally had enough of pretending that what he does is nothing but practice. You are alone with each other, no Yoongi or Taehyung to monitor him in sight. This isn’t practice anymore. This is honest sex. The thing he already did every third night under the guise of practicing. 

“Don’t stop, please”, you beg, feeling your thighs shake without having any sort of control over it. He is moaning and growling so much that besides the quick licks and strong sucks, Jungkook sends vibrations through your pussy and it’s making staying still impossible.

Jungkook thinks that he still goes a little feral during those moments. That would explain why his cheeks are covered in veins and why his fangs are out. You taste way too good. Jungkook didn’t think that your pussy would taste so good, but she does. He grows feral for your taste and feels withdrawal symptoms whenever he can’t taste you.

More. He needs more.

He buries three of his fingers in your pussy just to pick up your slick and lick it off his fingers. In the current position, his tongue grinds against your clit as he licks and you whimper his name as your hands finally leave their position.

You grab a bundle of his curly hair and twist it. Your other hand slips to your own thigh just so you can grab it in desperation.

Jungkook looks up. Your head is rolled to your side, your pretty tits move each time you pant for air. He wants to touch them and squeeze them and roll your nipples, but he physically can’t bring himself to leave your pussy. Instead, he buries his fingers back in your warmth. Three at a time and covered in his drool. This time around, he does it so he can massage your g-spot as he begins sucking and licking your clit. 

You wail and arch your back, kicking the sheets because you can’t handle this feeling otherwise. You dreamed of him before you woke. Like before, you dreamed of having him lie heavy in your hands as you made him cum. It was such an immersive dream until all of a sudden it stopped feeling like a dream and became your reality.

You can’t accept that this is your reality. That Jungkook is eating your pussy as he fingers you roughly. It’s too much for your sleepy brain to comprehend and all you can do is shake and tremble and kick the sheets as your fingers dimple your own thigh. 

Jungkook out of all the people is eating you out. After two months of extensive training, you should be used to his techniques, but you really aren’t. You never know what you will get with him. He can be so gentle and slow if he wants to, whilst other times he treats you with such roughness that you want to scream. He is never terrible however. As if giving head comes to him naturally. Like a vampiric purpose he is finally able to fulfil.

Jungkook breaks his lips away from your clit and presses his thumb against it instead. You know what that means, moaning his name loudly as Jungkook drags his heavy tongue up your torso.

Not being able to see what he does, adds excitement to all of this. “Please don’t stop, holy fuck”, you beg, feeling charged in pleasure. He is massaging your g-spot with such precision that there is a constant hot pressure deep inside your pussy. As if you were constantly on the edge of orgasming. You can’t handle it, but don’t want it to stop.

He takes your right nipple between his teeth and tugs hard. 

“Fuck", you squeak at the pinch, arching your back. 

“I wanna ruin you”, Jungkook growls, “I wanna fucking break you”, he adds and lifts his head, staring down at you with swollen, parted lips. His long fangs glisten behind them, but you can’t see them. You are blind to his current state. The black veins, long fangs, feral hunger in his eyes. You have no idea that it is happening, all you can do is moan and writhe for him.

“Don’t stop, please”, you beg unaware of his confession and slave to his touches. 

He speeds up his hand between your legs, fucking your pussy with angry precision. 

“Like this, baby? Mhm?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and sob softly. Waving your hands in the air panickedly until finally grabbing your own thighs. Jungkook watches it happening with a throbbing cock. 

“Kook, please.”

“So good”, he lulls, drooling on your chest, “shake for me. That’s my girl, shake for me.”

“I’m gonna cum”, you croak and sob, “please don’t stop, please.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop. He keeps going. He is addicted to two things. Your taste and your orgasms. Knowing that he out of all people can make you feel so good that your body has to climax in order to handle it, fills him with a rush of ecstatic pleasure. He wants it to happen anytime you announce it, making it his only goal for the time it takes you to get there.

“I wanna lick you”, he pants, “will this get you there? Can I please lick your pussy?”

“Yeah”, you mewl and sob, writhing under him.

“Fuck. Thank you”, Jungkook moans and disappears between your legs. He replaces his thumb with his tongue, but keeps the speed of his fingers going. With eager curls and fast motions, he fucks your pussy open as his tongue and lips work your swollen clit. 

Your voice breaks and you grow completely silent as you hold your breath. One. Two. Three. 

“Meehngn”, you let out in whimpers, now fighting for air in quick pants until it repeats itself again. Silence as you hold your breath and then squeaky sounds as you fight for more air. 

Jungkook knows that it’s only a matter of seconds by now. You get terribly non vocal whenever you are close. He fucks the mattress harshly, whimpering into your pussy. To think that he was able to fuck you so much these days that he learned that fact about you. It’s a dream come true. He is so fucking happy!

“No-ohw”, you choke out and break under his tongue. Your legs close around his head, your pussy squeezes his fingers and your clit throbs against his tongue. Your orgasm sits so deep, making you cry out because Jungkook moves just right to turn it from good to spectacular. 

You are so turned on and sensitive from the combination of all your dreams and Jungkook’s touches that it doesn’t need a lot for you to convulse to the point where you cover his face in your wetness. 

Jungkook moans loudly and cums. He fucks his throbbing cock into the sheets as he shoots cum everywhere. He can handle everything but not drinking your squirt. The smell of it is already enough to make him climax. Your taste is another story. One which make him cum so fucking hard that he feels delirious afterwards. 

He keeps his fingers buried in your pussy to feel your rhythmic clenches, but rests his head on your thigh, panting with you as you both recover. 

“I’m sorry”, you whisper in a frail voice.

“For what?” he asks in a husky voice.

“I should have warned you.”

“Don’t apologise”, Jungkook clears his throat. Your taste still lingers on his tongue. He feels his head pound because of it, “don’t ever apologise for that.”

“I don’t know what to do”, you confess.

“Why?” he lifts his head, “are you okay?”

“No?” you laugh, “you just ruined me.”

“I told you that I would, didn’t I?”

“Yeah…”

You giggle and you sound so sweet doing it that Jungkook wants to kiss you. He gathers his already recovered strength and kisses a trail up your torso. You gasp and grow softer underneath him. This feels like heaven. To be brought to your breaking point, only to be loved so tenderly afterwards is heaven.

“Koo”, you get out, presenting your neck to him so he can kiss it. He does so with a happy sigh, slipping his fingers out of you to instead caress your waist. It fits so perfect between his fingers and all he really wants to do is cherish it. Neither of you mind that this spreads your wetness all over your skin.

“Thank you”, he whispers, stubbing your jawline with his nose.

“For what?”

“For this experience. I know you talked about free use, but it’s a privilege to be able to touch you, not a right. So thank you.”

You roll your head to look at him. You are looking right past him again. Jungkook smiles because of it. 

“I’m happy when you touch me”, you whisper and smile droopily.

Jungkook giggles and kisses your forehead.  

“I’m gonna give you so many orgasms on this trip”, he whispers against your skin, “you have no idea.”

You squirm and giggle, wrapping your fingers around his biceps to squeeze them gently.

“Don’t say that.”

“Mhm, no I will”, he whispers and snuggles into you, purring softly as he suckles on your neck to find relaxation. 

You sigh, closing your eyes as tranquillity washes over you.

“Did you rip through your briefs?” you ask him now that you feel his softened cock press against your leg. 

“Yeah”, he says and chuckles, “I lost it at your taste.”

You snicker, “you have the strongest cock ever, this is impressive.”

“In my defence, my vampire cock kinda has a mind of its own sometimes. I’m still not completely in control.”

“Don’t apologise, it’s hot”, you say and nuzzle into him, “I can’t wait to wake up to it stuffed in me tomorrow, yeah?”

“You’re unfair”, Jungkook mewls, “fuck, now Imma dream of it.” 

He makes you laugh, “sorry.”

“So mean”, he mumbles and pouts. 

He feels way too drained from his orgasm to feel truly affected by what you just said. You feel too ruined by your orgasm to want him to act on it right now. It still feels nice to tease each other. 

Jungkook cuddles into you, closing his arms around you. 

“Wanna stay like this forever”, he confesses and sighs happily.

“Me too”, you say, hugging his arm as best as possible.

You drift off to sleep together in this position, smiling because it felt so good to finally be able to love each other without any kind of restraints.

[dancingbirdie]

Honestly I just wanted to write something Astarion x Halsin x Reader related, and this is what my brain told my fingers to tap onto the keyboard. It's sugar sweet with like one speck of chili pepper flake. Idk how to feel about it - it's not my fave I've ever written, but I also like how cutsey it is? Idk.

Feathers, Flirts, and Fiends

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Astarion x Halsin x gn!Reader

Word Count: 800

Tags: Fluff with a dash of spice at the end, humor, throuple domestic bliss, polyamory cuteness

Summary: For Astarion, it can be very taxing when your two lovers also happen to both be druids.

*****

In his dream, the bed was so disheveled that down feathers whooshed up in riotous little eddies each time he moved his limbs. Snow white, soft as petals, landing carelessly this way and that. He could feel the heat from his two lovers on either side of him, although the bed was too expansive to reach for them. 

They must have shared a rather rowdy evening together, given the abundance of freewheeling feathers that surrounded him. He couldn’t recall the details now. Curious. His eyelids slipped shut as a tuft floated down to land on his lashes. Another caressed his cheek. He smiled, content. 

But then the third arrival was less welcoming, landing just under his nose. He lifted a hand up to knock it aside, only for the feather to be replaced by another. Brows furrowed, he batted it away with a tinge more annoyance. But that one was only replaced once again. 

The barrage of feathers was beginning to tickle. He could feel a sneeze itching its way to the front of his nose. As his body instinctively inhaled to let it loose, he woke with a start. 

Well, the dream had gotten one thing right, Astarion thought to himself. 

There were indeed feathers surrounding him everywhere. It was all he could see as he peered about with bleary eyes. But they weren’t the soft down of a priceless plush pillow or mattress, no. 

They were attached to the pelts of his two lovers, you and Halsin, having shifted sometime in the night into your owlbear forms. Sandwiched between you, he felt the feathers rise and fall, sweeping up and down across his body, in time with your deep, drawn out breaths. 

“Gods damn you blasted druids,” he griped, shoving against you and the Archdruid in an effort to rouse your overlarge forms. “Wake up and shift back! Lest I succumb to death by feather asphyxiation.”

You’d awoken the moment Astarion had startled beside you, but the trickster in you considered feigning sleep just to see how long he would grouse. He could be so dramatic at times. It was darling. 

But Halsin was a kinder soul than you. You sensed him shift immediately in response to Astarion’s huffy command. Heard him murmur a sincere apology. 

“I know you’re awake, you beastie” Astarion hissed into the feathers covering your ear hole. “Your breathing’s picked up.” 

Blast. There goes any fun. 

Blinking open your enlarged eyes, you rolled them in a show of exasperation as you pulled on the tether of your magic to relinquish your wild shape. You quickly downsized to your normal elven form, curled in the same way your owlbear self had been sleeping. 

“Don’t be such a gremlin, Astarion,” you yawned, scooting closer to embrace him and Halsin, who had banded an arm across the vampire’s waist and was reaching for you to join them. “I would have thought you’d rather enjoy the warmth of two owlbear companions.”

“Oh yes, being smothered by lichen-and-moss-smelling feathers has always been a fantasy of mine,” he retorted. 

“Can vampires actually be smothered? I thought it was just wooden stakes and sunlight that did you in,” you smirked deviously. 

“You’re awful,” Astarion pouted, turning his head to rest in the crook of Halsin’s shoulder and neck. “At least Halsin showed an ounce of contrition.”

You heard the archdruid’s gravelly laugh as he kissed the top of Astarion’s head. “I’ve learned it goes a ways farther than verbally sparring with you,” he murmured into his silvery curls. 

“Quite right,” Astarion sniffed. “Much farther indeed, darling.”

Laughter bubbled forth from your own lips as you squeezed closer into his side and snaked an arm across his chest. 

“But where’s the fun in that?” you whispered. “Our verbal sparring often leads us three into some very interesting circumstances.”

At those words, Halsin reflexively clutched your waist harder. Astarion tensed before pushing back into your chest suggestively. You grinned fiendishly to yourself. Getting these two hot and bothered had become a specialty of yours lately. And you loved it.

“Tsk. You’re incorrigible,” Astarion grumbled, although his words were a bit breathier than they had been.

“Careful, lest you start something again,” Halsin warned. You couldn’t see him past Astarion’s head, but you could tell he was smiling just by his tone. “I’m not opposed to losing rest in order to see how this tête-à-tête ensues.” 

You chuckled darkly. “Noted. What say you, Astarion? Care to keep sparring?” The insinuation in your tone was clear. 

“Darling, you forget,” he murmured, one hand slipping down, behind him, to tug at the lacings of your breeches. His voice was muffled. You watched hungrily as he began to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses across the column of Halsin throat. 

“I’m always ready for a spar with you two.” 

[midgardian-witch]

Lazy Mornings

You wake up with only Layla sharing your bed and decide to enjoy the time together.

Part of both my Loving You (Plural) series and one of my entries for the Moon Knight Bingo.

AO3 [MASTERLIST]

Body Worship - Moon Knight Bingo

tags: gn!reader | body worship | nipple play | cunnilingus | polyamory | the Moon Boys are mentioned but don't appear in this one | mainly me waxing poetically about how fucking gorgeous Layla is

ships: Layla El Faouly/Reader

tagged: @spacecowboyhotch @moonknight-events @juneknight @eyelessfaces

"I won't lie and say I am not happy about having you all to myself for once," Layla murmurs in between yawns. 

You snort and shake your head against your pillow. Layla just grins at you, happy to have made you laugh. She's not wrong though. It's become a rarity that you get to spend time with only one of your lovers nowadays. You love having all of them around and yet it's nice to have the focus of one of them solely on you for once, and to have your focus solely on one of them in return. 

Steven had to get up early for work and hates to wake either of you (even though you know Layla is a light sleeper and probably wakes up each time anyway) so instead you know you'll be greeted by a sweet little note on Gus' fish tank once you leave the bed. 

If you leave the bed. 

You cuddle closer to Layla, limbs entangled under the blankets, and kiss her cheek. She looks so beautiful in the morning light with the early sunlight filtering through the curtains. Her hair looks unbelievably soft and you can smell her shampoo from where you are pressed against her. And her eyes, gods you could stare into them forever, the sun making her dark brown eyes shine like molten gold. You're not surprised Taweret chose Layla as her Avatar, to you she might as well be a goddess herself. 

"Any plans for today? Seems like we got the flat to ourselves,” she comments, pulling you out of your reverie, “For the next few hours at least."

Layla pulls you deeper into her arms and your lips find the crook of her neck, placing feather-light kisses on her soft skin. 

"Can we just stay in bed for a bit?", you murmur against her neck. The only answer you get is a satisfied hum, your lover thoroughly enjoying your undivided attention and affection. 

You know she can feel you grin against her as your kisses slowly drift further from her neck down to her chest. You linger over her breastbone, your hands traveling over her sides, slowly inching upwards. 

Layla's delighted giggles turn into breathy moans as your fingers faintly brush her nipples. She wiggles against you, displeased by your teasing. She can feel you chuckle, the warm puffs of air making her skin tingle. 

"I'll make it worth your while," you continue as you slowly pull up the tank top she uses as a night shirt. Layla hums affirmingly and sits up so you can undress her more easily, tossing the blankets off of you in the process. With quick, eager motions you remove her top, her breasts now on full display. Your eyes travel over her body, taking in her uncovered skin like she is a work of art to be admired. 

Layla reaches out to you, her hand covering yours. "You know you can touch me, right? You did a great job with it just a minute ago." The impatience in her voice makes you feel giddy and you slowly raise her hand to your mouth. Your lips graze gently over the back of her hand before you lazily place gentle kisses all over it. "Why hurry? We have so much time," you counter as you turn her hand and continue placing kisses on her palm. 

Layla groans in frustration and you can see her trying to be subtle, rubbing her thighs together. Your soft touches seem to already be having an effect on her. "Do I have to beg? Is that it?" Your grin spreads even wider as you continue to pepper her wrist with feather-light kisses. With a thoughtful hum you let go of her hand. "I'm not going to say no to that. Although we should probably not tell the boys that I can make you beg so easily," you give her a wink before slowly crawling over her, "Can't have them get competitive or else none of us will ever leave this bed again." 

Layla's laughter dies in her throat as you lean down and wrap your lips around one of her nipples. An elated moan escapes her perfect lips, her hand that you were just covering with kisses grabbing onto your shoulder to keep you in place. 

You chuckle against her skin, lazily switching between swirling your tongue around the already hardened nipple and sucking on it. You're using one hand to hold you upright over Layla's half-naked body while you tease the neglected nipple with your other, gently rubbing and twisting it between your thumb and pointer finger. 

Layla makes no attempt to stifle her moans, her sighs of pleasure filling the room. The sound is music to your ears; it's been too long since you had Layla all to yourself so you were going to make the most of it. 

Once you've spent a good time paying attention to each nipple with both your mouth and fingers you lean back to admire your handiwork. Her nipples, erect and flushed from the continuous stimulation, all but beg you for more, to be teased and tasted and bitten. Layla looks up at you, glassy-eyed, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. She can't help squeezing her thighs together at your heated gaze, desperate for any friction against her cunt. 

"Tell me what you want," you coo seductively, "Tell me and I'll give it to you." In response Layla spreads her legs, wide enough for you to settle in between them. "Eat me out?" she offers, more a question than a demand. You hum quietly as you kneel between her legs, your hands traveling over her soft thighs, slowly inching closer towards her underwear. Your fingers skim the frilly lace (a beautiful gift from Marc), goosebumps forming in response to your touch. 

"I can do that," you reply. Bending forward, hands holding onto her thighs for support, you start to place teasing kisses over her stomach down towards her clothed cunt. She gasps and shifts under you, eagerly chasing your touch. Your lips linger on the line between skin and cloth, your eyes never leaving her face. 

Layla groans, clearly exasperated by your stalling. "You're such a tease. Worse than Jake, I swear," she tilts her hips up, trying to grind against your face but to no avail. You lean backwards with a smirk. "Don't let him hear that. He's pretty proud of being a little shit," you counter and give her a sly wink. She rolls her eyes with a snort. "Then don't try and compete with him for that," her lips twist into a smirk of her own. Tenderly she grabs your chin, slowly tilting your head up to look deep into your eyes. "Or do you want me to beg before I can get your mouth on me?" she asks again, raising an eyebrow. 

You grin like the cat who caught the canary. “Now, while I would love to hear that,” you croon as you slowly push down her underwear, unveiling her already slick pussy, “I had something else in mind.” With a little help from Layla you get her panties off of her and put them to the side. She spreads her legs invitingly and you lean down to kiss her mound. “Let me worship you,” you whisper against her skin before you swipe your tongue slowly between her folds. 

Layla gasps as your tongue draws lazy circles over her clit. You gather more of her slick on your tongue, savoring her taste, before wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking gently. Layla's hands try to find purchase, to draw you even closer into her, finally holding onto your shoulders in a tight grip. You giggle against her pussy, delighted by her eagerness. 

“Tell me how you want it, habibti . This is all for you,” you murmur lovingly. Before she can answer you give her clit another gentle suck and Layla curses under her breath. “Fuck, I don't know what's going to do me in first: your sweet-talking or your tongue on my clit,” she says breathlessly. Your smile turns into a smug grin. “Either way it's going to be my mouth that does it. So just relax and let me treat you like you deserve.”

It took you a while to be this bold with your affection, a little intimidated by how ridiculously gorgeous your partners are at first, but now it comes as easy to you as breathing. And to your knowledge your partners thoroughly enjoy that side of you too. 

“Finger me?” Layla asks as if you could tell her no. Slowly you slide one finger inside her, thrusting in and out at a leisurely pace before adding a second finger soon after. “‘s this good?” you ask, pulling your mouth away from her dripping cunt just enough for her to hear you clearly. Her walls clench around your fingers, urging you to keep going deeper. She nods quickly. “Stop talking and keep going or I swear I'll-” Layla gasps as you dive back down between her legs to devour her. You curl your fingers inside her cunt, searching for the spot that will make her see stars. When a strangled moan escapes her lips you know you found it. Your fingers and mouth work in tandem, guiding Layla higher and higher towards her peak. 

“Don't stop, please- oh fuck ”

Her thighs clamp down around your head, keeping you in place as her body trembles under your touch. Her walls tighten around your fingers as Layla comes undone. With your face buried in her pussy you can't see her face as she cums - to your great displeasure - but you feel her body tense with her orgasm and hear her high-pitched moans reverberate. 

Slowing your pace, you gently finger Layla through her orgasm. You apply gentle pressure to her clit with your tongue before switching to placing tender kisses over her mound instead, careful not to overstimulate her. Only once her breathing has calmed down and you feel her stop twitching around your fingers do you remove yourself from her cunt. 

Your lips and chin are soaked with her juices, as is your hand. With a satisfied smile you pull yourself up and take in the vision before you. Layla looks even more beautiful than before - if that is even possible. Her hair is a mess, some curls stick to her face while others frame her head like a halo. The rays of the rising sun reflect off of her now sweat-slick skin and give her an almost ethereal glow as she lays there between the crumpled sheets. 

She looks divine . 

“Get down here and cuddle with me,” Layla is beaming, arms outstretched towards you, beckoning, “I want to take care of you too.” You lay down next to her and as soon as you hit the mattress she is already pulling you into her embrace. “You don't have to,” you mumble as you nestle into her, “This was for you.” 

It's quiet as you lay there, limbs a tangled mess. The only sounds filling the air are your breathing and the beating of your hearts. 

“We should probably get up soon. Be productive or something,” you groan as you slowly try to get back up - to at least wash your hands and your face. Layla pulls you back down before you can even sit up straight. “I think,” she whispers into your ear seductively, “we can be plenty productive right here.” You laugh quietly and shake your head. 

“Why do I have the feeling that your definition of that word is very different from mine?”

“What do you mean? Don't you think a round two would be productive?”

Her lips trail down your neck, her teeth nipping at your skin teasingly. You gasp as her hands find their way under your pajamas. 

“Well, if you say it like that, who am I to argue?”

[nctstar]

won't you stay inside?

labyrinth | ch. 2

You were scared that after all that, there was no love left in your body, not a single shred, no matter how much you dug.

pairing: hyuckren x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: mystery-thriller, angst, romance

warnings: profanity (use of fuck, shit), polyamory, kissing, domestic disputes (reader yells and everyone is very emotional), crying, severe headaches, slight violence (reader accidentally hits someone), panic attacks, road accidents

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also don't condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. I'm not a mental health expert and don't claim to be at all, if you are struggling please find some resources to help yourself or dm me for support <3

a/n: FINALLYYY the continuation is here! i am pleased to announce that I have thought of the entire story for this fic and i am hoping that i can be somewhat consistent in updating this from now on. things have definitely picked up haha :D would love to know what people think about this <3

“Honey? You alright?” Your knuckles were turning white, tendons contracting, as if to anchor yourself post the new text message sitting in your inbox. You felt a warm hand on your hair, Renjun’s brown eyes looking into yours, infused with concern and confusion. Across from you sat Haechan, the sun hitting the back of his head and tracing a soft, angelic line around the outline of his body, eyes lightened by the same bright rays. The metal chopsticks clanked on the side of the bowl as he brought his attention to you. It was in that moment, the split second that it took for Haechan to put on that façade, that you felt like everything was wrong again.

But, as long as you stood on Earth, nothing else mattered but these two men. For them, you would ignore any oddities, any flashes of guilt or fear, anything that threatened the fragile fabric of the relationship between the three of you. You would throw that lost phone into the deepest oceans if you could, tear your eyes away, switch off your brain, just so you could wake up with your legs tangled with theirs.

You know you couldn’t do that. But that was the sacrifice you were willing to make during times like this.

The tendons in your hands loosened, blood rushing back to the tips of your fingers. You answered cooly, “Yeah. Just not used to sleeping so well.” Renjun caressed you as he did on most days, starting at the crown of your head, pressing your hair gently onto your neck, finishing off with circles between your shoulder blades. You took his other hand, grazing your lips on the soft skin, smelling like honey and sweet waffles. “You going to work today?”

Renjun sighed, Haechan’s chair grazing against the tiles as he threw his head back, letting the hair move from his forehead. “Yeah, hon. You guys will be okay, right? I could take the day off-“

“It’s alright.” Haechan flicked the handle of the sink, a steady stream of water running over his hands. Your eyes couldn’t leave the glint of the ring as he washed his heads, and you watched closely as they shook a little as he spoke. “We’ll be alright, right, baby?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” You smiled at him, tilting your head up so he could walk over and press a kiss to your nose. His breath smelt like coffee as he sighed, forehead pressed to yours, brown eyes watery and intense gazing into yours. His fingers brought your chin closer to him, letting his lips taste yours.

When he pulled away, Renjun was putting on his coat at the door. Shuffling off your high chair, you stepped up to him, taking his hands in yours. “Take…take care of yourself, okay?” He smiled, muttering cute under his breath and leaning over to kiss you twice, second time much deeper as he brought your hips flush against his. “See you tonight, my love.”

As soon as the door shut, you heard Haechan’s body and the layers of clothing he had on crinkled and rustled as he almost leapt off his chair. “So, what do you wanna do today, baby? Renjun told me you don’t have to go into work.”

You fought the frown that was forming on your forehead, uneasy at the lie that Renjun had clearly told him. I mean, was it really a lie if there was no work to begin with? “Y-yeah. Yeah, we have the day to ourselves.” You walked over to him, the smell of him growing more and more intense as you did. You sighed, looking up at his face.

He was definitely different. But he was here. And he was yours.

His hands landed on your waist and squeezed tenderly, making you wrap your arms around his body, side of your head pressing against his chest. Your heart was warm, but your brain buzzed. Your legs felt like jelly as you opened your mouth, closing it again before you couldn’t help yourself. “What…what happened to you?”

There was a flash in his eyes, something that changed at shutter speed, but it was gone before either of you could catch it. “I really don’t know. But,” he stroked a stray piece of hair away from your face as you looked up at him, trying to read him. “I remember you.”

���

You shivered, one hand dug in the depths of your coat pocket while the other remained gloveless, allowing you to snatch hasty glances at your phone. Not a single notification. You sighed, heart pounding and ankles wobbly from the wind.

The warmth of the restaurant taunted you. Couples under muted lights, soft touches and the clanking of cutlery as they ate, time forced to stand still for these moments of tender expression. Yet here you were, stockings rubbing uncomfortably against the skin of your freshly shaved legs, nose frozen in the cold.

You fought yourself in your head before taking out your phone to type an angry text, embarrassment quickly turning into rage.

haechan

where are you? it’s freezing out here ☹

You frowned, chills settling deep in your stomach. Swallowing, you texted back.

me

I’m right here??

You paused, looking up to see the blurry outlines of the street sign move in and out of focus in the falling snow.

me

la vie?

haechan

shit.

i’m at another place.

15 minutes away.

Your body shivered once again, this time making you squat down on the side of the road. You looked around, desperate for warmth.

haechan

so sorry. there are so many french restaurants around here.

me

is that where you used to take haeun?

You regretted it as soon as you hit send, but you were biting your lip in a sudden fit of overwhelming emotion, body shaking not just from the ice falling like spikes onto your face. Your eyes welled up as you watched the read on the screen, conversation halted.

”_?”

When you looked up, a lone tear travelled down your face, and you marvelled at its ability to persevere, to not freeze over at once.

Renjun towered over you, a woman you hadn’t seen before strung on his arm. She crouched down almost immediately, placing her gloved palm on the small of your back. “Are you okay?” Her Korean rolled off her mouth with ease. You blinked, and suddenly, there was Haeun, her smile radiant, her hand warm on your back, the smell of baby powder dusting all around you.

The strange woman stared back at you, worry etched in her face. You nodded hastily, getting up before Renjun could come any closer. He tried to reach for you but you jerked away, your coat now feeling like bricks weighing your shoulders down. “I’m fine. I was just going home.” It was the stupidest and most obvious lie, but everything was too much, and you needed to leave.

“_?” Your name in the air for the second time, and you felt his arm around you before you saw his face. Haechan. You were trying to shrug him off, sudden panic and fear and guilt growing in the ends of your fingers, choking you from the outside in. His arms were gripping tighter and tighter around you, both arms wrapped around your middle, the air being squeezed out of every cell in your body. You gasped and gasped, but you felt like you were dying. Open mouth to scream, only to be met with silence, thick as honey and dread. No, no, no, STOP!

“Baby!”

You awoke with a sweaty whimper, tears soaking your face, the smell of Haechan’s body around you as your vision focused on his face. “Shh, shh…” His hands were on your face, your arms, your sides, but for a moment you were lost. Confused, like your mind had endless passageways you had never explored, and you were standing at a dead end.

“H-Hyuck?”

“Yeah, baby, right here.” His hand was warm on your skin, your hair splayed across his lap, and you were suddenly aware of the weight of your head pressing into his thighs. Shooting up, you groaned as your vision shook, heart pounding and bile creeping up your throat. “Oh, it hurts, it hurts…”

“_, you don’t look well. Let’s go to the hospital.” You shook your head. “No, no, babe, I’m fine. You’re…” you sucked in a short breath, waiting for the throbbing in your head to melt away, throb a little quieter, so your thoughts could stop screaming in your skull. “You’re here. You’re here today.”

“Yeah.” He cupped your face in both his hands, pecking you on the lips. “I am.” Hanging your hand off his lifted arm, you sighed. “Usually there’s no one here. There’s no one. And I don’t want to make Renjun come home. You know how he is. He’d stay with me forever, and then get fired.” You folded your knees and wrapped your arms around them, while Haechan chuckled, holding one of your hands in his.

“You’re right. He would baby you for an entire week.”

“Like he doesn’t already.” You rolled your eyes in exaggeration, but images of Renjun in your brain penetrated your heart like a drug, and you thought of his hands that smelt like waffles, his hips when they rubbed against yours this morning.

“He loves you. So much. I can tell.”

“I love him more, Hyuck.” You thought of Renjun towering over you, the strange woman hanging off his arm, the way you yanked your arm away.

Why?

“Did you, wanna talk about it? Your dream, I mean.” You shook your head before you even registered that you were, as if your brain was working in spite of your thoughts. “I don’t really like to recall nightmares honestly. They’re usually stupid anyway.” Haechan hummed, you feeling the soft fabric of his freshly laundered shirt against your cheek as scooched over, nestling in his body. You traced lines on his arms, studying the moles that peppered his skin. You pecked where your head rested against his body, the detergent smell filling all the passageways in the maze of your brain.

You spent most of the day in his arms, in and out of dreamless slumbers and in between noises of the TV and the smell of lunch, and bungeoppang Haechan got for you after you whined about the scent driving you crazy.

As you bit into the soft bread, the hot red bean paste scalding the roof of your mouth, Haechan spoke. “So, this one is Lorelai.” You giggled. “Yeah, baby, according to literally all the other characters.”

“And that’s her daughter, right?” You both watched Lorelai and Rory shove indulgent amounts of fast food into their mouths, scattered over the coffee table as they made themselves comfortable on the couch. You nodded, engrossed in the dialogue. Haechan toyed with a few strands of your hair absentmindedly. The sky was now painting itself in shades of lilac and pink and deep orange, the temperature cooling with the remains of the day.

“She reminds me of you.”

“Haven’t heard that for the first time.” You chewed, the flavours feeling euphoric in your mouth. “God, I really needed this.”

“Me or the bungeoppang?” You both laughed in sync with the mother and daughter duo on the TV, and all four of you knew the answer.

The sound of the keys jangling had you shoving the rest of the treat in your mouth, leaping off the couch to run to the door. Haechan laughed, standing up after you, leftover chip crumbs falling to the floor.

“Tadaima!” It was a silly inside joke between you and Renjun, born after watching a lot of Japanese romantic movies and TV shows that Haechan found cringe, but the both of you, being hopeless romantics, pored over on slow weekday evenings.

“Hey, _.” As soon as the sound of your name hit your ears, you knew something was up.

Renjun looked lost in thought, and, as you looked into his face, you noticed the black shadows around his eyes, flickering across his face as if taunting you for not noticing them before.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You started to shake involuntarily, and he took your hands in yours, momentarily snapping out of his daze to try and comfort you.

You were getting déjà vu. The night that Renjun came home to tell you Haechan had gone missing, the moments before had played out exactly like this.

“Renjun.” Haechan’s voice was so stern, so much so it…confused you. Before you could turn around, Renjun stroked your cheek, willing your attention to him. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about everything. For not believing you, for keeping this a secret-“

“Keeping wha-“ Before you could even think to process it all, Haechan lunged past you, standing between you and Renjun, a physical block that you would have never expected. You moved to the side, studying the way Haechan’s eyes glinted with desperation, anger, and Renjun looking back apologetically. Your heart was sinking, your legs feeling like jelly, the familiar feeling of losing your grip on reality taking over all of your senses.

“What the fuck is going on?” Your voice wobbled, making both men turn to you. Haechan walked over, grabbing your shoulders, bending over to kiss your cheek. “I have to go.” The smell of the bungeoppang was still in the air, and you were thinking about how cruel the universe was, to line the edges of your nightmare with the sweet smell of something so delicate, so delicious, so special to you.

“What?” You could hardly believe it, but Renjun’s silence said it all. You stepped away, and Renjun’s eyes widened. “Honey, please-“

“No, fuck you both!” Your eyes were brimming with tears. You sucked in a breath, trying to calm your shaky body, the volume of your voice. “Why are you keeping shit from me? Don’t I mean anything to you?” The raspy whispers came out like a blunt knife, more painful as time stretched in front of you. Words were flying out of your mouth, and there was a small voice in the back of your head begging you to stop before it was too late. “Why, what happened to us?” You were sobbing now, and Renjun stepped forward, but you held up your hands, pushing the invisible barrier between the both of you towards him. “Don’t touch me right now. I just, I need…” you doubled over, your chest tightening, and you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe at all, just like in the dream, with his arms squeezing the life out of you-

“Honey? Are you alright? Oh my god…” You felt Renjun’s arms around you, and in a panic, you stumbled away, hitting him in the face. Your eyes watered, watching the bruise bloom across his tender features, the split second where he hesitated before stepping towards you. “Renjun, fuck…” your words slurred, tears streaming down your face as the apartment was shrouded in the darkness of dusk. “I’m a fucking monster. You don’t deserve me.” You swallowed your tears, and you watched as Renjun’s face crumbled, a mix of fear and sadness drawn across his skin. Behind you, you heard Haechan sniffle, and you heard him say, “I’m gonna fix this, I promise. I love you so much.”

The last thing you remember was your front door slamming, the same one that had opened 24 hours ago, complete with the sound of your lover yelling that he was finally home, finally, after an entire year. The same one that you had embraced your lover in front of, kissing him with all the love you had to spare, pulling your body towards him so that he could feel you, all of you. You were scared that after all that, there was no love left in your body, not a single shred, no matter how much you dug.

Your feet were slapping across the tarmac, and you could hear Renjun’s voice yelling behind you, pleading with you. His voice began to fade as you ran across the street, took a few twists and turns, running like a madwoman with no sense of direction. Eventually, you were forced to slow as your vision turned blurry, the streetlights and headlights turning into blobs of red, yellow and green. In the midst of it all, your head had started pounding until it reached a peak, throbbing harder than ever had before, so hard you clutched your hair with both fists, groaning audibly. You heard a few gasps and murmurs of surprise, a few passerbys vocalising their concern near your ears.

“Miss, miss? You alright?” “Someone call…” All you could think about for a moment was the thing, the thing with a gazillion passageways in your head, and you were there. You were standing there. There was a light, and it was growing brighter and brighter, glowing like the sun, hot like the sun. But you thought for a second that it didn’t matter, that you were lost anyway, even if the light grew stronger, even in the moments when you thought you could see it all.

That’s when you opened your eyes, and the woman on the sidewalk screamed as the headlights of the bungeoppang truck headed straight towards you.

[citruswriter]

Food For The Soul

Listen with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

Warnings: Tcest (you have been warned!), Tcest x Character, The Bale AU, Fluffy Goodness, Polyamory.

Tcestween Prompt: Food

Pairings: Mikey x The Bale

If there was anything that Mikey enjoyed more than eating food it was making food, especially for his loved ones. It was a sort of love language for him. He adored making foods for people that held special places in his heart, keeping them well fed with good, home-cooked food that he made. Scratched the turtle instincts just right.

And that's exactly what he was doing right now. Waking up early and cooking food for his bale. Mikey didn't used to be such an early riser but as years got on he found himself enjoying the quiet of the mornings more and more, his only company being the sizzling of whatever food he was cooking and the soft lofi beats that gently played through his bluetooth speaker.

This morning he was making scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, fresh fruit salad, and fresh morning batches of tea and coffee. The spatula scraped against the pan as he made the large batch of scrambled eggs, throwing in different kinds of cheeses and spices. The bacon sizzled until it was perfect and crispy before he gently dished it up on the paper towel clad plate. Regular and chocolate chip pancakes were made and set on a platter. The sound of his cutting knife on the board as he made the fruit salad filled the air next as he tossed watermelon, strawberries, kiwi, banana, and blackberries together.

Everybody would be waking up soon, time to make beverages. Raph liked green tea with honey, Donnie would want his expensive coffee with french vanilla creamer and whipped cream, Leo would want his caramel latte with double espresso, Casey simply enjoyed cheap black coffee, and April would take a shot of espresso and a glass of orange juice.

Speaking of April... He could hear her pad in with Raph as he made his own oolong tea. "Morning, my loves." Mikey said cheerily and he was rewarded with a soft good morning from April and a kiss from Raph. Mikey handed them their drinks, Raph sipping his tea with an approving hum before he loaded his plate with pancakes and bacon.

Mikey giggled as April downed her espresso shot with a scrunch of her nose before chasing it down with a gulp of orange juice before snagging some scrambled eggs, bacon, and fruit. "Thanks so much, baby." She said sleepily, kissing his cheek.

Shuffling could be heard before Leo and Casey were seen, talking softly to each other as they got food and their drinks. "This looks so good." Casey said, digging into his food. "Smells just as good." Leo mumbled, popping some bacon and fruit in his mouth.

"Where's Donnie?" Mikey questioned and Leo looked up and blinked. "Asleep in his lab, I think. He was up pretty late." Leo said and Mikey sighed, making his way up to Donnie's lab to drag the purple banded terrapin down for breakfast.

"Donnie?" Mikey called out, walking into the lab until he found his mate. He could help but chuckle softly as he found his older brother hunched over and asleep on his lap table. Gentle fingers reached up to pry his battle shell off, tracing his sensitive shell and messaging it gently, causing him to stir.

"Morning, dearest." Donnie groaned out and Mikey bent to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Morning, babes. I made breakfast. Lets get some food and coffee in you." He said softly. Donnie groaned softly and stretched before standing up, allowing Mikey to drag him to the kitchen.

"He lives!" Leo said as Donnie sat at the table, earning a snap from Donnie before he nuzzled into his twin, earning him a kiss. Mikey piled up Donnie's plate before handing his food and coffee to him. "Here you go, baby." Mikey said softly before getting up to get his own food and drink.

As the bale sat around the table, waking up and murmuring softly to each other, Mikey couldn't help but feel his heart warm. Everybody ate and drank, scrapping their plates clean and slurping down the last of their drinks, thanking Mikey before loading their dishes in the dishwasher.

As they walked away with bellies full of good food, Mikey couldn't help but sigh lovingly. What a good morning it was today...

Mikey is such a little chef so I found it only fitting that I would center this prompt around Mikey. Ik it's kind of bad but I still think it's uber cute.

Taglist: @cherrytreatsart @yallshantfindme

[dollystuartwrites]

Stray Gods - Chapter 48

Pairing: Gods!OT8 x !F!Reader Genre: romance, friends to lovers, polyamory, mystery, supernatural, angst, fluff, smut Wordcount: 4897 Chapters:  [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] [11] - [12] - [13] - [14] - [15] - [16] - [17] - [18] - [19] - [20] [21] - [22] - [23] - [24] - [25] - [26] - [27] - [28] - [29] - [30] [31] - [32] - [33] - [34] - [35] - [36] - [37] - [38] - [39] - [40] [41] - [42] - [43] - [44] - [45] - [46] - [47] - [48] - [49] - [?] MASTERLIST Summary: With no memory of who you were, you wake up in the woods, only to be found by eight unusually handsome men. With no information of the past, the guys decide to take you in and take care of you for the time being. But that time becomes years, and as time passes, you start to notice that there is something different about them... and something different about you... Warnings: angst, praise, thigh riding, kissing, fingering, overstimulation, lovebites, bad/miscommunication, low self-esteem, swearing, name-calling, dry humping, college, degradation, gods, special powers, vaginal sex, oral sex (f&m), mentions of contraception (condoms&thepill), injuries, mentions of death (but no character deaths), virgin!reader, teasing, orgasms, poly relationship, semi-public sex, daddy kink, strength kink, grinding, I've probably forgotten some, so let me know if I did and I will add more as the story progresses.

Taglist: @eastleighsblog​​​​ @tangerminie​​​​ @swittyregan​​​​ @septicrebel​​​​ @jiimout​​​​ @zandra-42​​​​​​@julciaqwerty​​​​ @vampcharxter​​​​ @mercurezed​​ @thatgirlangelb​ @cookiemonstermusic258​​ @stayconnecteed​​ @bubblelixie​​ @smilingtokki@hash2013 @juskz Want to be added or did I miss you? Just send me an ASK or DM

Lots of love and many thanks to my current beta’s from Wattpad: rocker7898 and sydneye2411. You guys made my writing so much better <3

Sleepily, you shuffled into the kitchen, Jeongin's hands on your shoulders as he pushed you gently forward. You had done your best to convince him that you'd call in sick to uni today, but he wasn't having it.

Felix's head turned away from the furnace and he spotted you, an instant glowing smile on his face.

'You're back!' He said happily, dropping his pans and rushing over to you. Before you could even blink he wrapped his arms around you, forcing Jeongin's hands from your shoulders, and hugging you tightly.

'We've missed you,' he whispered softly into your ear with his low voice.

'Don't break her,' Jeongin grumbled, but Felix's hold on you wasn't painful. You could smell his warm homey scent, his hair and clothes already smelling like the pancakes he was making for breakfast. Being in his embrace made you want to instantly fall asleep again, lying in his arms, but a prodding finger in your back made you blink and let go.

'Hey, don't you fall asleep again, missy,' Jeongin warned. Felix let go of you and raised his brows at Jeongin. You turned around to stick your tongue out at him.

Last night, after you had taken a shower to clean up together, Jeongin had urged you to go to bed early. He reassured you that he would get your stuff and tell Seungmin he'd taken you home. You instantly objected, feeling super awkward and guilty, but Jeongin insisted and your body felt too tired to fight him on it. So eventually you gave in and laid down in his bed, falling asleep almost instantly. When you awoke again, it was already morning. Jeongin was standing beside you, nudging you softly and telling you it was time to get up and get ready for school.

'I don't want to fight Han and Lino as well,' he grumbled as he softly nudged you in the direction of a chair.

'As well, what do you mean?' you said, suddenly feeling wide awake and turning around to look at him, feeling worried. Jeongin clicked his tongue.

'Can you stop worrying for once, sit down and eat. Felix, are any of the pancakes ready yet?' He evaded your question and looked at Felix.

'Oh shit, right,' he said quickly, running back to his now slightly smoking pans and continuing his cooking.

'Innie- Seungmin- how- what did he say?' You asked nervously, sitting down on a chair but fidgeting with the hem of the shirt Jeongin lent you.

Jeongin shrugged and sat down next to you. 'He was quite busy, to be honest,' he said vaguely.

'Jeongin! Just tell me!' You said kicking him under the table. He hissed and pouted at you.

'Fine, he wasn't too happy about you leaving so suddenly, but he understood,' Jeongin began, but upon seeing your face he quickly added in a low whisper, 'He didn't seem to mind what happened too much but still, we all prefer to keep you to ourselves don't we?' he said with a shrug. You still felt uneasy about the whole situation. 'Relax,' he said, putting his hand on your knee and looking at you earnestly. 'I swear, it was fine. He was very busy and he understood you were needed back home. He just wanted me to take good care of you.'

Looking into his golden eyes, you knew he meant it. Seungmin hadn't been mad or disappointed about it and everything was alright. You took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh, feeling your heart becoming at ease.

Felix started serving the two of you breakfast and after a while, Changbin came stumbling into the kitchen as well. His hair seemed a mess and the bright red roots of his hair seemed to be grown out more than ever. He yawned for a bit until he saw you. He blinked a few times, then a wide smile appeared on his face. Before you could even say or do anything he was already attacking you, bringing you into a bear hug.

'Can't breathe Binnie!' You laughed, still half a bite of pancake in your mouth as you tried to speak. He quickly let go of you, checking your face thoroughly. He apparently concluded you were well and smiling again, stroking your hair while kissing your head.

Shortly after Changbin released you and you resumed eating breakfast, a dark figure came peaking around the corner.

'Channie!' You said as a messy-haired, dark-circled Bang Chan shuffled into the kitchen sleepily. Seeing you, his eyes instantly cleared up and he smiled broadly, opening his arms for you. You ran over to him, jumping into his arms for him to hold you.

'Glad you're back babygirl,' he said, as he too nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, tickling you. You were so glad to see your boys again, even though it had only been a few days.

After you finished eating, you tried to get Felix to eat. Offering to take over the cooking instead and promising you wouldn't let anything burn this time. However, you suddenly heard footsteps again.

Minho entered the room, looking tired but already dressed in his usual suit and glasses, college professor style. He stopped in his tracks seeing you and raised his brows in surprise for a moment.

'Lino!' You said his name happily, standing up quickly from your chair. You pushed Felix in it instead and ran over to him. He hugged you back, kissing the top of your head.

'Was about time you finally came back home,' he mumbled to you. You looked up at him with a broad smile, as he smiled back at you for a moment. 'Now where are those pancakes, cuz I'm starving,' he grumbled.

'Right!' Felix said instantly, jumping up from his chair again and returning to the kitchen. Admitting defeat, you went back to your chair again and sat down, looking around the table and enjoying their handsome faces that you'd missed so much.

However, your gaze lingered on Minho for a bit. He had unusual dark circles under his eyes. You knew he often stayed up late, grading papers and preparing his next lessons, but you had rarely seen it have any effect on him.

Then suddenly you felt something. It was like someone flicked their fingers against the top of your spine. A nudge that wasn't at all friendly. Something was off. You looked at Chan, but he was a closed book. Too closed. You took a slow breath through your nose, mentally poking your Goddess to wake up. Apparently, she did because suddenly you could feel how he was purposefully closing himself off from you. You frowned, looking at Changbin. He however was an open book as always. Something was definitely wrong. You wanted to slap yourself in the face for not noticing immediately, as it was totally unlike Changbin not to talk, asking you stuff until you were blistering behind the ears. Besides your greeting, he had barely said a word and looked at you even less. You looked back at Minho and your Goddess seemed to ring an alarm. He was not just looking somewhat shabby. He was doing horribly. You could see his light, and although not dimmed down, you could see something was very wrong.

'What are you doing?' Chan suddenly asked sharply. His eyes were narrowed as he looked at you sternly again, but you ignored him, looking around the room, hoping to find any hints. Felix was looking at you suspiciously now too, his eyes narrowed as well. He looked just as worried as you felt. You pulled harder at your Goddess wanting to find an answer desperately as to what the hell was going on. Suddenly, Chan smashed his hands on the table, and you lost the link. Their lights vanished and you stared at him startled. 'Stop it!' He growled at you, looking so angry that you almost forgot yourself. For a moment you looked at him with an open mouth, then you quickly closed it again. You gave him a deadly look but you weren't going to fight with him right now.

'What is going on?' you asked Minho, who was looking confused from you to Chan and back.

'I could ask you two the same thing,' he said with a chuckle. But you weren't in for laughs right now.

'Lino, I know something is wrong,' you told him sternly, imitating Chan's tone. For just a millisecond he looked taken aback, but then he corrected himself and simply raised a brow at you, pulling a face as if he had no idea what you were talking about. 'Lino!' you said angrily, this time it was your turn to slam your hand on the table in anger. From the corner of your eye you could see Chan balling his fists and looking at the others with an expression that made you think he was talking to them telepathically, forbidding them to tell you anything. You looked at Jeongin, but he was actively avoiding eye contact while cutting the last quarter of his pancake into unnecessarily small pieces. You found Felix's eyes but he bit his lip and shook his head, forcing a badly formed smile. Annoyed, you looked over at the nervously shuffling Changbin. You could see he was at his tipping point, he wanted to tell you but knew he wasn't allowed. You looked at all of them, one by one, but none of them would break.

'Tsk,' you said, raising your chin and standing from your seat. 'I'll go find Jinnie and Hannie instead then,' you said, turning around.

'No!' all of their voices came out at the same time. Bingo. You turned around sharply.

'So something is the matter with them? Both of them?' you asked fiercely. Chan got up from his seat now too, looking at you just as angrily as you were at him.

'Lino,' he said, without looking at him, his eyes still on you as if you would run when he'd looked away, 'didn't you say you had to go to work early today? Y/n still needs a ride, I think,' he said suggestively.

'Chan I swear,' you started threateningly, before Minho could even answer, 'if you guys don't tell me what is going on right now I will... I will,' you began, looking for a good threat to use, 'I will pull on my goddess again,' you suddenly decided. You weren't sure why it pissed him off every time you did, but you knew it was something you could use.

'No,' he said, suddenly backing down. The tension that had been in his arms and shoulders dropped but a muscle in his jaw pulled still. 'No, I... We'll... Fine,' he sighed, with clenched teeth. He looked at the others but they didn't say anything. Their eyes were large and they looked slightly hesitant still. Then Felix stepped forward.

'Han...' Felix began. It was all you needed for a stone to drop into your stomach. 'Han is sick,' he said slowly.

'S-sick?' you repeated confused. 'But-but I thought you-you guys couldn't get sick?' you recalled.

Felix bit his lip and looked at Chan, as did you. His look had softened. You could see how he was trying to hide the fear in his eyes, but you knew him too well.

'We can't and we don't,' Chan said quietly. Your eyes shot to Jeongin, who was looking at you. His face instantly turned beet red.

'Why didn't you tell me?' you hissed, feeling more guilty than ever. Jeongin's face resembled a very ripe tomato.

'I got carried away, I kinda... forgot...' he muttered, looking away from you.

'I have to see him, right now,' you insisted, already turning around, ready to dash off, but Chan grabbed your hand, stopping you.

'Y/n, no wait-' he began, but you tried to shake him off.

'Get off! I have to see him! Let me go! Let me see him! Hannie!' you cried. Panic was growing inside of you. You had failed. Failed as a goddess. You hadn't been able to protect him. You should've never left him.

Frantically you tried to pull yourself loose but Chan was too strong. All the others had jumped up from their chairs now as well, running over and saying things to stop you, but you wouldn't hear it.

'-don't know what it is y/n,' you heard Minho say.

'-might be contagious,' Changbin tried to convince you. But that only made it worse. If Han was sick, you would be sick with him. You did not care, you just had to see him.

'Let her go,' a voice suddenly spoke behind you. You froze for a moment, stopping your weak attempts to break loose from Chan. You looked around to see Hyunjin standing behind you, near the stairs. He looked tired, the same dark circles under his eyes as Minho sported. But his tone was calm and his posture relaxed,his hands in his pockets.

'Hyunjin, no,' Chan objected. 'We don't know what he has, even Felix can't do anything. It's too dangerous for her!' he tried to plead. To your surprise, Hyunjin chuckled at his words.

'First of all, Felix is a veterinarian, not a human doctor, he said so himself,' Hyunjin said calmly, taking a step forward. 'And even if he was a human doctor, his expertise would still be worthless since we are not human,' he added, taking another step. You could feel Chan's grip slacken on your wrist and you quickly pulled it loose before he could recompose himself. Quickly you ran over to Hyunjin, who had already opened his arms for you, closing them around you as soon as you grabbed hold of him. 'Welcome back sugar,' he whispered, kissing your brow. You could feel Chan's angry gaze on your back, but you didn't care.

'You know,' Felix said. You turned your head to see his face. He had stepped forward now too, his expression curious and bemused. His words are not questioning.

'To be honest, this wouldn't have been as much of a problem, as it currently is if we hadn't been as careful, funnily enough,' Hyunjin said with a grim chuckle.

'Just speak for fuck's sake Jinnie,' Minho said irritably. Hyunjin sighed deeply, a flair of drama adding to the scene.

'I keep telling you all over and over again, but you never listen,' Hyunjin sighed.

'What?' Minho snapped, angrily.

'Love,' Hyunjin said the word darkly. 'Love is a dangerous thing,'

A memory flashed before your eyes. You were standing in the club where Jeongin worked at. You were on the dancefloor with Hyunjin. He was standing at arm's length away from you, his face inscrutable. His eyes bore into yours.

'You gotta be careful with love,' he said so quietly you could only just hear it. 'It can be exceptionally dangerous.' Before you could even blink again, he turned around and walked away, leaving you behind, completely bewildered.

You blinked and the vision faded away, as you looked up at him curiously. No one said anything but Hyunjin let go of you and looked at you with a soft smile.

'Come, he's waiting for you,' Hyunjin said.

Though Felix, Chan, Changbin, Jeongin, and Minho had followed you and Hyunjin to Han's room closely, they didn't protest and kept quiet. You suspected Hyunjin was talking to them telepathically. Most likely explaining to them what he wasn't to you, but you were too nervous to ask. Your heart was beating in your chest, and the stone in your stomach was still there. The feeling of immense guilt still gnawed at you as you stood in front of Han's bedroom door, Hyunjin smiling at you softly.

'We'll go in together, shall we?' Hyunjin said, taking your hand into his. A warm feeling entered you through your hand. It felt like it was flowing up through your arm and wanting to enter your mind, but there was too much worry in there to allow the feeling of love to take over. You nodded stiffly, nervously.

'It's me,' Hyunjin said as he knocked on Han's door. A muffled and far away hum sounded and Hyunjin opened the door slightly, stepping through the crack and pulling you in as well, before closing the door behind the two of you.

It was only a second, but it was all you needed. Han looked terrible. His face looked almost gray, all his color seeming to have faded from him. His normally cute chubby cheeks had disappeared, like he hadn't eaten in weeks and the dark circles underneath his eyes made Minho's look like a bad imitation. Before you could even blink, Han let out a hoarse shriek, pulling the blankets over his face and disappearing out of sight.

'Are you insane?' he tried to yell at Hyunjin, but his voice was nothing more than a hoarse whimper. The sight of Han and the sound of his unrecognizable voice made your stomach turn and tears instantly welled up in your eyes as you looked over at Hyunjin. To your surprise he simply rolled his eyes, you gawped at him. How could he put on his drama queen act right now while Han was in such a state?

'I know what is wrong with you Hannie,' he said simply, sitting down on the chair that was standing beside his bed. You stayed standing where Hyunjin had let go of you, frozen to the spot with fear.

Han mumbled something underneath the covers that you couldn't quite catch.

'That's just the problem,' Hyunjin responded to him, his voice dripping with annoyance. You gave him a deadly look, which he ignored. 'None of you ever listen to me. So for once, shut up and listen!' he ended his sentence fiercely, his eyes on you now, looking serious.

There was no response from underneath the blankets.

'Han,' Hyunjin began in a clear voice, 'you are love-sick.' For a second, there was silence, then Han threw the covers from his face, looking at Hyunjin as angrily as his haggard face allowed.

'Do not mock me,' he said with a hoarse voice. Seeing Han now, up close, it looked even worse. His green eyes were dull and his dark hair was hanging limply over his forehead. Without even realizing it yourself you clapped a hand over your mouth in shock. The movement seemed to draw his attention however and he looked over at you, his eyes full of pain as he saw you standing there with your hand before your face.

'Y/n, no- I-I never wanted you to see me like this. I told them to-to keep you away,' he whimpered weakly.

'Which is why you only became sicker,' Hyunjin said seriously. He looked over at you. 'Y/n, sweetheart, come over here,' he said softly, beckoning you to the bed. He didn't have to tell you twice. You rushed to the bed and before Han even had time to pull away, you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his neck as you cried.

'I'm so sorry Hannie. I'm so sorry. I should've never left you. I'm a worthless goddess, I'm worthless! I'm so sorry,' you kept repeating as tears fell onto his feverish skin. You didn't care if you'd get sick as well. You didn't care if he was trying to push you away. You would never let go again. Never.

Han struggled to get you off of him, but his normally strong arms seemed to be too weak right now to push you away. His hoarse mumbles of protest were hard to make out over your sobbing words of apology and finally, he gave up. You buried your face deeper into the crook of his neck, taking in his scent as tears rolled from your eyes.

You were horrible. A horrible person. No. A horrible goddess. You had failed them.

You sat in silence as you embraced him, silent tears falling from your eyes as you continued to curse yourself in your head. You could feel Han's slow and steady heartbeat, his chest against yours.

Minutes passed and for some reason, the unusually high temperature of Han's body slowly seemed to lower. When you held him first, he felt hot, like Changbin, but now... Maybe it was simply you getting used to his heat.

You slowly let go of him, pulling back a little to look at his face.

You blinked a few times.

Was it your imagination or had he regained some of his color?

'It's not your fault y/n, it really isn't. But please leave, I beg you. We don't know what is wrong with me and for all we know it might be contagious,' Han begged you, looking at you desperately but sounding less hoarse.

'It isn't contagious,' Hyunjin said with an air of annoyance. Han looked at him destructively but Hyunjin didn't seem to care.

'Go, go now, please,' Han begged once more, giving you a soft push, away from him. You wanted to object, but to your surprise, Hyunjin got up too.

'I think this'll be enough for now,' Hyunjin said with a nod, putting his hand out for you to take. You quickly shook your head.

'I'm not leaving,' you insisted. Hyunjin sighed.

'He's going to be fine now, I promise,' Hyunjin tried to convince you but you shook your head once more.

'Baby, just go,' Han added as well, nodding and faking a smile, 'I'll be fine.' However, there was nothing that could convince you right now. There was nothing they could say to convince you to leave right now. Not in the state Han was in. Not after you had already abandoned him once, getting him sick. No way.

Hyunjin sighed and shook his head as well.

'Well, I guess you're leaving me no choice,' Hyunjin sighed. Without giving you time to even open your mouth, he was suddenly standing next to you, his arms around your body as he picked you up like you weighed nothing.

'HYUNJIN!' You yelled out, shocked. You were used to being picked up and tossed around by Changbin, Chan and lately Felix as well, but none of the others had ever done anything like this before. 'HYUNJIN!' You called out his name again, your fists hammering on his back for him to let go of you. You heard Han say something but could barely make out the words as the blood was rushing to your head. 'LET ME GO!' you called out, but it was already too late, Hyunjin was already closing the door behind him. You got a quick glimpse of the guys in the hallway, noticing that Jeongin was missing.

'I'll monitor his progress,' Felix said between your screams. You could feel Hyunjin nodding before you started pounding your fists upon his back again.

'Let me go! Let me go now! Let me go to him! Let me stay with him! Please Hyunjin!!!' You cried out, but he ignored you. The sound of another door opening and closing filled your ears and you were carefully put down on a bed. He had brought you back to your own room.

Instantly you jumped up but Hyunjin halted you.

'Sit,' he commanded. You froze. You had heard Chan using his voice of authority many times before, but never Hyunjin. Reluctantly, you sat down, looking at him angrily.

'Y/n, you gotta listen to me,' Hyunjin said seriously. You pressed your lips together in anger but listened. 'Han has love sickness,' Hyunjin said the words slowly.

'But Han said-,' you began but he cut you off.

'I know what he said but that's just because he doesn't want to believe it. But trust me, trust me on this that I am right,' Hyunjin said seriously. You didn't react but your anger disappeared and you felt yourself calm down slowly. 'Han is love sick, and the hug you gave him just now will be enough to cure him by the end of the day,' Hyunjin said. You opened your mouth in protest but once again Hyunjin cut you off. 'Trust me when I say this. Trust me that I am right. After all, have any of us ever been wrong regarding our powers before?' he asked. You thought for a second, trying to think of a moment where they made a mistake, but not finding any. You still looked at him with discontent.

'Baby,' he began in a softer tone, lowering so his face was level with yours, 'I promise you Han will get better, he just needs some time right now. Just like with a real sick person, you should drown them in the remedy but offer small doses. Besides, you heard him, he really doesn't want to see anyone right now because he is afraid,' Hyunjin said. You looked at him, wanting to protest, wanting to run back to Han and hold him more, but you didn't dare move. 'Besides, it's a school day, and you know how he'd react if you failed any of your classes,' Hyunjin chuckled with a wink. You clenched your jaw as you pushed away the last bit of you wanting to run back to Han. Slowly, you nodded.

'That's a good girl,' Hyunjin said, petting your head and smiling. 'Now I'd get ready quickly if I were you because it's already quite late,' he said with a meaningful look at the clock on your nightstand. You didn't say anything, staying seated and not moving as you tried to calm down the last bit of yourself.

'Hyunjin?' You began softly. He was already getting to the door but he stopped and turned to look at you. 'How can he be love-sick?' You asked, still not quite understanding the situation.

Hyunjin gave you a grim smile. 'None of you really ever listen to me, do you?' He sighed. 'I've told the others a thousand times, and I've told you, love should not be underestimated and can truly be a dangerous thing,' he sighed, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

[ramp-it-up]

Bar All Else

Pairing: Barkeep!Andy Barber x Reader x Barkeep! Frank (Endings, Beginnings)

Summary: Its Endgame for you three.

Part 12 of The Bar AU. This happens right after Good Morning.

Word count: 5K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S/MUT! Read at your own risk. This has Everything: Angst, fluff, family holiday, coming out, polyamory, mlm. PWP, digital p, double p, anal, extreme oral, boys kissing, degradation kink, fun in the shower, praise kink, proposal in a home under construction (I had to do it.)

A/N: Please heed the warnings. Remember, feedback is gold. Let me know what you think!

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The next morning, afternoon really, Andy and Frank somehow untangled themselves from you and were busy in the kitchen, making food that smelled divine. You sat up, stretched, and smiled, your body deliciously sore from the night’s, and morning’s activities.

Your heart skipped a beat at the thoughts running through your mind as you heard their soft murmuring from the other room. They were trying not to wake you, even though it was one o’clock in the afternoon. 

Doubts plagued your mind. Could you actually have both of them, could you be committed to two men? Did they really want a future with you, or just sex?

You chewed your lip and began to overthink as you took a quick shower and dressed in one of Andy’s flannels. You caught Frank and Andy smiling at each other over coffee as you padded into the kitchen.

“...Morning…”

Your voice was timid, shy even, and as they looked over and took you in, you were blushing as if you three hadn’t shared the most intimate acts a few hours ago.

“Good morning, Baby Doll.” 

Frank smiled at you and moved to come and kiss you on your forehead. You smiled up at him, basking in the warmth he gave you. Andy took you in wearing his shirt and in Frank’s arms, and his heart picked up pace.

How could a sight be more perfect? He moved toward you.

“Morning, Sweetheart. Did you rest well?”

You embraced Andy with your other arm, beaming up at him. 

“I slept like a rock. I was tired out for some reason.”

You winked up at him and smirked at Frank, realizing that this situation was definitely really happening.

“Hmmmm.”

Andy took your shoulders in his hands and looked at your face, concerned, as Frank moved to dish up the food.

“Are you alright? We didn’t hurt you, did we?”

Andy was terrified at this moment. You saw the fear in his eyes and stood on tiptoe to peck his lips.

“I feel divine, well used, and satisfied. For now. Daddy.”

Andy exhaled and pulled you into him, eyes darkening. You could feel him thicken through his sweatpants.

“And we aim to keep you that way…”

Andy stared down at you, thinking that you really were a goddess. 

Frank cleared his throat behind you. 

“But first, let’s eat.” 

You raised your eyebrow over your shoulder at your other lover.

“Food, Baby Doll,” Frank intoned.

You giggled as Andy swept you off your feet and onto a barstool.

“What do you want, Baby Doll? An omelet, or French toast with bacon?”

You looked between the two men, eyes twinkling.

“Who says I can’t have both?”

You spent the lazy Sunday afternoon watching movies and pretending the outside world didn’t exist. Frank and Andy lavished attention, food, and water on you, making sure that you were alright. They didn’t want you to bolt again. You sensed their anxiety.

But you couldn’t stay in denial all day.

Andy was reading with your head in his lap, and Frank was massaging your feet at 7:02 pm as you scrolled your phone you let them have the truth.

“Guys…”

They both looked at you.

“I gotta go home. I have to go to work in the morning.”

Frank’s face fell and you looked up to see that Andy’s mirrored his. You sat up.

“I know. It’s been a beautiful weekend, but if I stay here, I would never want to leave. And we all have jobs. Time to go back to the real world.”

“This could be the real world, Baby Doll…”

You cocked your head at Frank and Andy spoke before you could ask your question.

“What he means is that we’d like to book you every Saturday night for the foreseeable future, Sweetheart.”

Andy and Frank shared a look as your heart melted. 

“And maybe a couple of nights during the week?”

Frank’s voice was hopeful. You thought this was going fast, but hell, you had wasted enough time. You smiled at them. 

“That sounds real nice.”

Your heart warmed as both of your men kissed you on the cheek. It was so pure. You all stood up they watched as you went into the bedroom to grab some of Andy’s sweats and the rest of your things. They had their heads together when you came out, but stopped and led the way to take you home. This time, when they took you home, you let them into your small apartment and it seemed that they filled up every available space. It was after 8 pm and you already felt lonely, although they were still there.

“I have something to tell you.”

Frank stood up straight, and Andy clenched his jaw, as if they were bracing form something. You were glad that you’d waited until you got home, or they would not have let you leave.

“I love you. I love you both.”

You felt hands on your waist, pulling you between them in your small living room. You peered into the ocean blue eyes in front of you.

“Say it again. Say that you love me.”

“I love you Frank.” 

You smiled up at him, realizing it was the first time.

“Fuck, I love you too, Baby Doll.”

You kissed him, pressing your body full length against his. Andy was right there bedside you. You reached for him while you were kissing Frank. When Frank released you, you turned and kissed Andy.

“And I love you, Andy”

“Fuck, I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. You know that,”

You kissed Andy tenderly. Then you leaned against the doorframe to your bedroom as they stood on either side of you. You felt like a rabbit in a wolves’ den, about to be devoured. The tension was thick but no one moved.

“So, what’s the rest of your night look like?”

Andy’s voice was gruff as he eyed your small bed. His mind was whirling with possibilities. Frank’s warmth behind you had you weak. 

“I-I was going to take a nice, hot bath. And then go to bed. I usually get up at 6:30 to go to the gym, but…”

“You’ve had your workout already?”

Andy had that look in his eye. You gulped. Frank’s hands were on your arms as the goosebumps rose on your skin.

“It’s just the thought of you, wet in the bath, wet with sweat. I need your liquid on my tongue…”

Frank had a way with words, and his satin voice in your ear had you trembling.

“And we know you’re probably sore.. So you don’t have to if you don’t want to…”

Andy’s voice was a little bit desperate. As if he hadn’t had you and Frank a few hours before. He was insatiable.

“We just need to taste you again…see you cum…hear you tell us that you love us some more…” 

Frank was practically begging. You felt so powerful. You stepped away from them to catch your breath. You shook your head. These boys were dangerous, looking like every girl’s fantasy.

“Well. My bed is small. But my shower is pretty huge. And since I’m already wet… why don’t you join me?”

You said this as you left a trail of the clothes you were wearing on the floor. Andy and Frank followed suit, all three of you naked as you greedily reached for one another under the hot spray of your showerhead.

Andy and Frank left you softly snoring in your small double bed that night, satisfied that they had sufficiently put you to sleep. You dreamed of them all night long.

You awoke to the sweetest Good Morning texts from them in the group chat. Despite your physical reminder of the weekend’s activities, you felt amazing and ready to conquer the week.

Your friends at work only smiled and winked at you, all except for Tia, who wanted all the details. You told her a little, but not everything, and all of your people supported you. 

This really could be a thing, you thought.

For the next three weeks, you lived in a blissful bubble, dating Frank and Andy separately one night a week each, and going as far as heavy petting with each individually. You saved the good good for the weekend when you were all together, and it was only then that you let yourself fully succumb.

When the weekend before Thanksgiving rolled around, you felt guilty for having plans to go home.

“It’s okay, Baby Doll. It’s only for a few days.”

You looked at Andy across the room as Frank held you in his arms. From the way your bearded lover clenched his jaw, you knew he didn’t like it, but he’d never admit it.

“He’s right Sweetheart, you’ll be back in no time. Remember that we love you.”

“And I love you both, too.”

The train ride home gave you time to think. You actually felt like you were leaving your real family behind in Boston. You wanted Frank and Andy. For as long as they wanted you, and you weren’t ashamed of it. You had to tell your family because you weren’t going to hide.

At Thanksgiving dinner, you kept peeking at your phone and smiling into your lap. God, you missed your two sweethearts. You answered the question of who you were texting when your mother asked. It was a big hit at the dinner table. The room erupted into scandalized expressions of fear and hate, but your mother surprised you when she defended you.

“Shut the hell up! She’s a smart girl, I mean woman. I don’t think she would be with someone who didn’t treat her right, now would you?” 

You stared at the person you thought would kick you out of the house when you told her, a lump in your throat.

You shook your head and smiled. 

“No, ma’am.” 

“And two good men? Tuh.  Let me know if you find any more.”

Your mother winked at you and then asked for someone to pass the mashed potatoes. 

After a heart to heart while cleaning up the kitchen that night, you floated off to sleep on a cloud of hope and possibilities, and when you boarded the train back to Boston, you were excited for an unnamed reason. 

You were greeted at the train station by Andy and Frank.

“Hey Sweetheart.”

Andy smiled at you and gave you a chaste kiss and hug.

“Baby Doll!”

Frank gave you a bear hug and twirled you around before he put you down.

You told them you were exhausted from traveling and they offered to take you to Andy’s place, promising to just hold you and be good. You just smiled and nodded, wanting to spend time with them.

The fireplace was on and the guys had started putting up Christmas decorations, including a new buffalo plaid throw over the back of Andy’s huge couch.

“Well this is cozy!”

You murmured as you took your jacket and scarf off and revealed a low cut thin pink cashmere sweater and jeans. 

Frank noticed that you weren’t wearing a bra and Andy’s eyes went to the tight jeans. They gave each other a look.

You went to the kitchen island to get out the popcorn popper.

“Let’s watch a scary movie!”

Frank and Andy hung back, watching you and your body move in the kitchen. They whispered to each other, remembering that you were tired.

“She’s trying to kill us.”

“No question.”

“Be strong.”

“Yes.”

“What are you guys mumbling about?

You turned around with the bowl of popcorn, bringing some kernels to your mouth, that Ruby Woo making your lips pop, especially when you sucked the butter off your fingers.

“I’m gonna get thirsty. Got anything I can drink?”

You looked up at them with those tits in that sweater and those lips and…

“You want water or spirits?” 

Andy cleared his throat and moved behind the island.

“Mmmmmm. Water.”

“So fucking cute, Baby Doll.”

“Thank you Frank.”

You batted your eyes at him as Andy handed you the ice water. You grabbed it with a smile and a kiss on his cheek, then moved to the couch with your goodies. Frank looked at your lip prints on Andy’s jaw and his silly look on his face and was jealous for an instant.

Frank reclined on the sofa, toeing his shoes off and putting his feet up on the coffee table while Andy got the movie ready to go. You sat next on Frank, but upright.

Frank patted the cushion beside him.

”Don’t you want to relax, Baby Doll?” 

You smiled and just crossed your legs, indicating your pink high heeled boots. Frank’s kryptonite..

“My shoes. Don’t want to get the couch dirty.” 

Frank licked his lips and started sweating as Andy shook his head. Frank was on his knees in an instant.

“Let me.”

You smiled, leaned back arching your spine and presenting your foot. The action made your breasts poke through your sweater and Andy squirmed. Watching Frank slowly and delicately take your shoes off didn’t make his pants any looser.

Frank was now wearing his own silly grin as he took his place beside you and you scooted next to him, curling your feet under you.

Andy cleared his throat.

“Are we ready?”

You nodded and smiled at him. And then Frank. This felt so good. You were content, wedged between your darling men, until the jump scares started, and then you were frightened, turning and hiding your face in Frank’s shirt, leg thrown over his. Andy wasn’t mad, because at this point, you were giving him all the ass. He slid closer to you and Frank and placed the throw over all three of you. And you fell asleep between the two people who were very likely to be the loves of your life.

Andy and Frank took you to brunch the next day, and to look at the unfinished condo space next to The Bar. The energy changed as you walked into the unfinished space, and as you looked between them, you saw excitement dancing in their eyes. The smell of raw wood and plaster invaded your senses and your heart rate rose. You got excited as well for all of the potential around you.  They both watched you as you slowly turned around, taking in the structure, which was basically an open concept for the entire floor, except for a couple of rooms roughed out on one end.

“We have about another month to finish the drywall, painting, and finishes.”

“Wow! This would be a great space for entertaining!”

Andy and Frank gave each other a look before Andy spoke.

“That’s what we were thinking.” 

“We’d have a little bar, and a kitchenette over here to help with food, and then open space for a table and mingling. This would be the guest suite for visitors.” 

Andy motioned to the roughed-out rooms.

Your smile slipped a little.

“What?” 

Frank picked up on your cues so well.

“Well… It’s your space, I was just thinking…” 

You looked at them.

 “I’ll just shut up. That sounds nice.”

“No, Sweetheart, ‘d Love your input.”

Frank spoke up.

“Yeah. The woman’s touch.”

You smiled at them, grinning again. 

“Well, I think the kitchenette and bar should be over there, it will improve the flow and allow space for more seating over here.”

“That’s an amazing idea. And you’re absolutely right.”  

Andy looked at Frank.  

“Why didn’t we think of that?”

Frank smirked at him. “Because we’re idiots.”

“True.” 

Andy smiled at him and then held his hand out to you.

“Let’s look at the rest of the space.”

You smiled and took Andy’s hand and followed him up the stairs, with Frank trailing behind you.

You emerged into another open space, but with a wall of windows on one side.

“This will be the more informal living space, with a movie screen there with more comfortable seating,” Frank pointed to a blank wall, “and the chefs kitchen over there.”

“I like that, and then whoever is prepping food, or if both of you are prepping, you can still see the screen.  You will have shades, automatic, I hope?”  

You looked at Andy and Frank.

“Both of us prepping food?” 

Andy moved closer to you, coming behind you and clasping you around the waist, lowering his head to brush your neck with his lips. 

“So you will have us cooking for you all the time?”  

You allowed yourself to fall into his embrace and hummed, inhaling the spice of his cologne for a minute until you really heard what he’d said. You hadn’t realized that you had closed your eyes until you opened them to see Frank staring at you with a silly look on his face.

“Wait, what?”  

You turned out of Andy’s grasp as Frank went and stood beside him.

“Before you freak out, there’s another floor.” 

Frank grabbed your hand this time.

“But…”

He ignored you as he led you up the stairs. You three came out on the third floor which had several walls for rooms constructed. They led you through three rooms of about the same size with two rooms off of each, and then a fourth, larger than the rest, with one semi-large room connected to it.

“What is all this?” 

Your heart was beating fast at the implication of what was happening.

“These are bedrooms, three with closets and en suites, and one with just an en suite bathroom.”

Frank indicated the largest room. You looked at them and went in to inspect the large room. It had a huge window and the bathroom was a very good size.

“We want the largest bed they make in here,” Andy looked at you as he spoke.

“One big enough for three people,” Frank responded.

Your mouth dropped open.

“And in the bathroom, a huge jetted tub,” Frank continued.

“One big enough for three people.” Andy looked so sincere. 

You were floored.

“Ummmm. So four bedrooms for how many people?”

“Three. We figured that individuals might want your privacy at times. But there might be times when we’d all agree to be together.”  

Andy was definitely nervous now. But you thought about what he said about the big bed.

“So these three people might all sleep together, or sleep separately?”

“Or maybe two would sleep together if one wants to be alone?” 

Frank’s voice made you turn toward him. 

“We didn’t want anyone forced to be in a shared space.”

They thought of everything.

“Sounds like an interesting arrangement.” 

You went to the window and looked out over Boston Harbor. It would be a beautiful view to wake up to. And to do it in between two beautiful men would be an added bonus.

You heard Andy’s voice next.

“And when children come, we can get a house out in the country, with lots of land for them to run around.”

You gasped and turned back to them to see the space where they had been empty. You looked down to see Andy and Frank both down on one knee. 

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

Your hands were up around your mouth, and you didn’t know if you were breathing. This couldn’t be what you thought it was.

“What exactly are you two asking me?”

Frank spoke next.

“When you went to spend the holiday with your family, we decided that we couldn’t let another come and go without telling you how much we both want a family with you.”

You looked away from Frank to Andy, whose eyes tried to hold yours, but you couldn’t get caught up. Your eyes darted around the unfinished room. Everything was happening so fast.

Andy, then Frank reached into their pockets and brought out two rings, seemingly odd pear shaped diamonds in gold bands.

“We know it seems like a short time since we got back together, but we wanted to do this last year.”

The men looked at each other, and then back at you. Then, in perfect tandem, they said:

“Y/N Y/LN, will you marry us?”

You mouth was hinged open as you stared at them.

“You are the woman of my dreams, Baby Doll.”

“I can’t imagine life without you, Sweetheart.”

The blood was rushing in your ears and you opened your mouth.

Suddenly everything stopped and you yelled, “Yes! Hell yes I will marry you!”

You were in shock at what you’d just said as Frank and Andy both picked you up. Then they put you down and placed both rings on your hand, Andy’s first, and then Frank’s.  When they were both on your hand, the two diamonds formed a heart. Suddenly, the view was blurry.

“Oh my gosh. Andy! Frank!”

You looked up at them with tears falling down your face.

“Is this really happening?”

“You bet your ass, Baby Doll.” 

Frank beamed down at you as he kissed you.

“Absolutely, Sweetheart. You’re stuck with us. Both.”

“For life,” you said, smiling at both your men. 

Suddenly the energy changed. 

“Let’s go back to my place. To celebrate. With champagne.”

The look on Andy’s face made you shiver as you remembered your last encounter with Moët in the storeroom. Frank remembered watching that encounter on the camera, and you thought of that as you looked at him, remembering his confessions you over the last few weeks.

“Let’s go.”

You were more than ready.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think that your men were trying to get you tipsy. You were on your third glass of bubbly while you admired your ring on the couch as both men’s hands were up your shirt and they marked up your neck. You giggled, until Frank thrust his hand down your jeans, parting the thick lips of your cunt as Andy took over teasing both breasts.

“Oh.. oooohhh. Yes, Daddy. Pinch them harder.”

You arched your back as Andy did as you requested and Frank thrust two fingers inside you. You rode Frank’s fingers as Andy leaned down to minister to your nipples, sucking and licking them with an urgency.

“Missed you while you were away. So much.”

“It was just a couple of days, Silly.”

You laughed at your serious fiancé.

“Any time away from you is an eternity, Baby Doll.”

Frank leaned up to kiss you while he fingered you, then pulled Andy’s head up to slip his tongue into his mouth.

You came on Frank’s hand as you watched the two men kiss. They pulled apart, panting and staring at each other. Then they turned their eyes on you. They stood up as you did and watched you take off your pullover and watched as you unbuttoned your jeans and peeled them down your legs, showing them your perfect bottom.

“Can I have you both?”

“What a question.”

Frank chuckled and started undressing, watching Andy stroke himself outside of his pants as he watched both you you.

“I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Andy slowly undressed as he watched you reach for Frank to come around the back of the couch which you were facing. You leaned over and kitten licked his tip as the younger man threw his head back. Once naked, Andy came behind you and stroked your hair, running his hand down your spine, causing you to give him that arch. You looked behind you as you stroked Frank’s rigid cock.

“Stop teasing the man and give him your throat.”

You watched Andy get on his knees and start stroking himself as he parted your lips. Frank turned your head back around and painted your lips with his precum before shoving his cock in your mouth, filling your airway with his flesh. You moaned around him as Andy’s tongue licked you from clit to ass, inserting his tongue in every crevice. He played with your nub like taffy and had you, and by proxy Frank, on edge in no time.

You watched Andy and Frank on the bed kissing passionately. You got wet just watching them, it was so hot. Their cocks were so hard. Your heart started beating faster as you climbed on the bed, the kiss between them becoming a three-way. All three of your tongues met and danced. Soon, Andy and Frank broke away and their lips, tongues, and hands traveled to your neck, your ear, your breasts, or any sensitive part of your body that they knew so well. You knew you’d never experience such intense sensations than having these men’s hands and mouths on you.

Frank detached himself and lay back on the bed, his hard cock waving in the air. You moved to touch him, but he stopped you, grabbing your hand and pulling you up toward him.

“On my face Baby Doll. Need to taste you.”

Frank turned you around so that you faced his cock, and you climbed on carefully as he roughly pulled you down on his mouth. His tongue started doing unspeakable things to you and your eyes closed before they opened at the sound of another mouth slurping. You opened your eyes to see Andy licking and sucking Frank’s cock while staring at you. That powerful feeling returned and you took your nipples in your hand and teased them as you shivered on Frank’s lips and tongue.

“That’s it, Sweetheart. Ride his face.”

You obeyed and pulled your nipples harder as you watched Andy cause Frank to moan into your cunt.

“How does it taste, Andy?”

He pulled off with a pop. 

“So good.”

Andy grinned at you.

“Wanna share?”

You smiled back and leaned over to tongue kiss Andy around Frank’s cock, causing him to come up for air and smack your ass as he groaned.

“Holy Fuck, that’s good!”

You start handling Frank’s balls and he started panting into your cunt.

“Fuck!”  

He breathed and went back in for more, inserting fingers to get what he wanted.

When you came on his tongue, Frank yelled at his own release, deep down Andy’s throat. After he recovered, he grabbed your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed, so that your ass was almost hanging off. He got behind you, took your legs and spread them wide, holding them open for Andy, who was panting and feral, watching the scene.

“Don’t just stare, Andrew!”

Andy took his cock and lined it up, looking up to watch your face as he slid in. He sheathed himself to hilt and you keened as you felt him pounding inside you.

“Oh Andyyyyyy!”

“Fuck! You got me about to come already. So gotdamn tight. Fits like a glove.”

He looked up at Frank.

“You don’t understand how good this feels…”

“The fuck I don’t. Feels amazing. Fucking you is a close second.”

You watched as Frank leaned over and grabbed Andy by the back of the neck and kissed him

“Fuckkkk!”

You moaned as your pussy got wetter at that sight and convulsed around Andy’s cock. He looked down at you, lips wet from the kiss.

“You like that?” 

Andy hissed as he started fucking into you slowly. Frank reached down and rubbed your nipples.

“You like to see your boys together?”

“Yesssss.”

Frank pulled Andy’s hair and kissed him again.

“Fuck. So hot.”

“Squeezing me like a vice, Sweetheart.”

“Make her cum on your cock, Baby.”

Frank held you down and open for Andy.

“I know how you like to run, so be a good girl and take it.”

Andy started snapping his hips harder, watching your face as Frank talked you through it, how you bit your lip when he twisted first one nipple, then the other. Before you knew it, Andy was pounding you ferociously as Frank spoke praise in your ear.

“Good girl, taking that pounding like a fucking champ. Your our cum hungry little cumslut, arent you? How bout you cum on Andy’s cock without anybody touching your clit, Beautiful Baby Doll. Then I can clean both of you up.”

“Oh Goddddddd!” 

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you exploded around Andy’s dick. Two sets of hands held you down to take it. Andy pounded you out and groaned as Frank did the same to him.

“Fuck, can’t… hold it.” 

“Give it to us, Baby. Soak that clit for me.

Andy pulled out and fisted himself over you, literally growling as he spurted all over your cunt. Your chest heaved as you and Frank both stuck your tongues out to catch some of Andy’s spend. 

“Suck a fucking good girl for us.”

Frank sucked the remaining cum off of Andy’s softening cock and then went to town on you as Andy rolled on his back beside you.

Andy looked at you and smiled at your half lidded eyes as Frank started feasting on your sloppy pussy.

He pulled your face toward him roughly.

“Look at me when our fiancé is eating you out.” 

His deep voice rumbled through you and met Frank’s moans as he lapped you up.

You whimpered, “Yes Daddy.”

Andy fondled your tits and then wrapped his hand around your throat at the same time Frank wrapped his lips around your clit to suck. It was insane how in sync they were.

Your back bowed as Frank sucked a massive orgasm out of you, and you swore you blacked out, because the next thing you knew, you were being lifted into the shower, and lovingly washed by two sets of hands. 

“I love you Frank. Love you Andy. I love you so much.”

“Love you too Baby Doll. Love you to the moon, Sweetheart. Now just relax.”

You were exhausted, and fell into a deep sleep between your future husbands, secure in the knowledge that barring anything, you would have love and security for the rest of your life.

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Magnolia - Chapter Fifteen

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Attempted Suicide, Implied/Referenced Rape and Mutilation, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Smut

A/N: Tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

Sometimes she forgets.

Sometimes it slips her mind that Satoru and Suguru are not just ordinary men; that they are vampires, fueled by the consumption of blood and granted with superhuman strength and speed.

She remembers though, at times like this: when one second she is standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking at the two of them on the other side of the room… and the next second, in the blink of an eye, Satoru is standing right in front of her, his tall frame hovering over her and his presence filling all the space in her personal bubble.

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Chapter Warnings: Blood, references to hunting animals.

A/N: Look y'all, two in a row. Thanks for reading. :)

Chapter Fifteen: The Thirst of Infinite Desire

By now, she’s used to the strong, coppery scent of blood. 

She can smell it on them when they come back in. It lingers on their skin, on their clothes, in the air. 

It doesn’t bother her as much now. She’s grown accustomed to it, would even venture to say that it’s something she associates with those two.

It’s almost a comfort. 

“How was hunting?” She asks, watching Satoru brush his bangs off of his forehead as Suguru locks the door behind them. 

“Good,” Satoru tells her, casually. “You should come with us sometime.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Just for fun,” he answers. “It’d be like us going to the grocery store with you.”

It shouldn’t make her laugh - because she doesn’t think he means it as a joke - but she does anyway. “You’re ridiculous.”

Satoru shrugs. “This isn’t news.” 

Suguru watches the exchange silently, a fond smile curling his lips. 

Satoru crosses the room to where Lia is in just a few strides. “Are you planning on changing before we go out?”

Puzzled, Lia looks up at him. “Am I supposed to?”

Satoru’s expression gives away his answer before his mouth does. “I’m not going out with you when you’re wearing that.”

She can hear Suguru’s soft sigh, but he doesn’t say anything. In the eight months since the three of them have been cohabiting this house together, he has learned to let Lia fight her own Satoru battles. She’s gotten fairly good at knowing which ones she can win and which ones she can’t, and the ones she wins are usually the ones Suguru doesn’t interfere with. 

It’s quite pleasant for him, seeing how well she handles Satoru now that she’s comfortable with him. 

“Why not?” She asks, looking down at her clothes. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” 

“You look like a funeral director,” Satoru answers bluntly. “We’re going dancing, Lia… it’s not a wake.”

She’s only mildly offended; after all, she owns very few clothes that would be suitable for anything other than lounging around the house, and any argument to the contrary would fall flat in the face of Satoru’s inherent knack for knowing what’s stylish. 

This time, she heaves the soft sigh. “These are the fanciest clothes I own, Satoru. Besides, who’s going to be looking at me?”

“I am,” he says. He says it in such a matter-of-fact way. He casts a glance over his shoulder at Suguru. “I swear, you’re two of the prettiest people I’ve ever met, but without me you’d both probably live in hoodies and sweats.”

“I personally don’t see anything wrong with living in hoodies and sweats,” Suguru interjects. 

“Just… Wait here.” That's all Satoru says before he disappears upstairs, and Lia and Suguru are left to share a quizzical glance.

They aren’t left wondering for long; Satoru returns shortly with his arms full of hangers. There are clothes draped on each of the hangers, and Lia watches curiously as he lays those clothes flat on the coffee table. “The sizing might be slightly off on some of these, but that isn’t my fault,” he starts. “It’s hard to gauge your shape when you’re always wearing baggy shit.”

Her brow furrows as she looks at the clothes. “What are these?”

“Dresses I bought for you,” Satoru says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to have done. “So pick one you like and put it on so I can see it.”

Just for a split second, she considers refusing his request. But one look at the dresses and she realizes that she doesn’t actually want to refuse. After all, Satoru knows fashion. If he thinks she’ll look good in one (or all) of them, the chances are that he’s right. 

“Fine,” she concedes with another sigh. 

“Good girl.”

--

And once the thirst of infinite desire Possessed me like a fever, and I said, “I want to feel all radiance, fragrance, fire And joy of life within me, to inspire My soul forever!” And the faerie maid Called me to follow her, and when she spoke It was as if a harp to the soft stroke Of loving hands had wakened suddenly: She syllabled hope’s language, calling me. -Ruben Dario, Autumnal (excerpt)

--

She chooses the shimmery blue one, telling herself that it’s because of the way the color compliments her skin and not because it reminds her of Satoru’s eyes. 

“Well damn,” he says, when she descends the stairs. He looks over his shoulder at Suguru, who is leaning against the kitchen door jamb. “Am I good, or what?” He looks back at Lia. “So… you chose the blue one, huh?”

Well. She should have known better than to think he wouldn’t notice. “It goes well with my skin tone,” she offers. 

“Mmhm.” He gives her a knowing look, and Suguru stifles a snort. It makes her face flush; neither of these men are stupid.

“Anyway, shouldn’t the two of you be getting ready?” She points out, redirecting the conversation and staving off the chance for any follow-up questions about why she chose the color she chose. “If I can’t go dressed like a funeral director, you’re not allowed to go covered in the scent of blood.”

Sometimes she forgets. 

Sometimes it slips her mind that Satoru and Suguru are not just ordinary men; that they are vampires, fueled by the consumption of blood and granted with superhuman strength and speed. 

She remembers though, at times like this: when one second she is standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking at the two of them on the other side of the room… and the next second, in the blink of an eye, Satoru is standing right in front of her, his tall frame hovering over her and his presence filling all the space in her personal bubble. 

“What, you don’t like the scent of blood?” He’s grinning at her, hands braced on either side of the bannister rails, his arms caging her in. She is used to this, him being so close. It’s just the way Satoru is… invading personal space, comfortable with casual touching, his presence always slightly intruding. 

Before, it would have bothered her.

But now, it makes those things she feels harder to ignore. He’s close enough for her to smell the aforementioned scent of blood, but beneath it there is also the unmistakable scent of him… a scent she has become familiar with, a scent that sparks something in her that is dangerously close to the feeling she knows as desire. 

Satoru knows it, and he’s aware that she knows it, too.

Suguru watches the exchange from his place in the kitchen doorway. He’s no stranger to the effect that Satoru has on people, men and women alike. Satoru is magnetic, charismatic, and appealing. Suguru has watched something develop between those two for the past eight months, something that started as a tiny bud and has blossomed over time into a bigger, more noticeable bouquet of feelings.

Lia looks up, up, up at Satoru’s face. She marvels once more at how the fabric of the dress she chose really does perfectly match the blue of his eyes. Absently she wonders why she isn’t surprised at what she sees in those eyes of his, why it doesn’t make her want to run to her bedroom and bury herself under the covers, out of his sight. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” she says quietly, catching her bottom lip in her teeth.

Satoru’s line of sight follows the movement, his gaze falling on her mouth. “So you do like it?” He asks, his voice low.

He isn’t even touching her, but his gaze holds so much weight that it almost feels like a physical caress. It drives all coherent thought out of her head and warms something low in the pit of her stomach… loosens her tongue and her inhibitions. She wonders if he possesses some sort of magic, or if it is just him being him that makes her feel this way. “Only on you.”

Her response seems to please him. “Hm,” he murmurs thoughtfully, leaning back slightly without lowering his arms. “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he adds after a moment. He reaches out, flashing her a grin and running his thumb along her bottom lip before moving past her to ascend the stairs. “Suguru,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into the bedroom, “we should get ready… our princess has been waiting for us long enough, don’t you think?”

Our princess? She looks at Suguru. He crosses the room at a leisurely pace, his smile gentle as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. “I would ask you if you’re surprised,” he starts, “but you’re not… are you?”

Even with him speaking so vaguely, Lia knows what he means. “No, not really,” she admits. “His face doesn’t really hide anything.”

It makes him laugh. “It doesn’t,” he agrees. Sobering up, he looks closely at her. “And what about you?”

Once again, she knows him well enough to know what he’s asking without him having to say it directly. “Would it bother you if… if I told you it was something I’ve been wanting for a while now?”

He laughs again. “Why would it? I didn’t want you to think we weren’t interested, but I haven’t asked you because I figured you’d want some time to figure out if it was something you wanted.” He shakes his head, still smiling. “But to hear you say it now? Well… I can’t deny that it makes me happy.” 

With that, he moves past her. “We’ll be ready before long, Princess,” he laughs, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

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Chapter Sixteen: Coming Soon

Tag list: @therealestpussyeater

[the7thcrow]

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 08

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Eight: shame, hot buttered rum, and a rude awakening

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)

summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 13.0k

extra chapter warnings: bondage but not the sexy kind.

chapter summary:

“Mysterious black-clad army seizing the castle. Killing the king, hunting their princess,” Yeosang says, lifting a hand to place his chin in his palm. “It’s all very fantastical, don’t you think? Like something out of a storybook. Strange to be living it.”

You almost laugh at how very true that is.

a/n: been feeling a lil nervous to post bc of the large influx of readers since the last update. i’m very grateful to have you all here, but it’s definitely made me a little worried about my writing, so i hope it doesn’t show too much in this chapter. enjoy <3

When you awaken it's to light blonde hair tickling your nose. Groggily opening your eyes, the sunlight blares through the open tent flap and down onto your unwilling face, causing you to let out a groan of annoyance. Rolling over to face away from the inconsiderate sun-beam, you're met with a sleepy murmur of protest.

Seonghwa pulls you in a little closer. The man’s grip around your torso tightens as he buries his face into your collarbone, letting out an exhale that feels cool against your clammy skin. He’s still fast asleep, breathing melodically, and you can’t help the smile that grazes over your lips.

It’s been like this ever since the mimic, at least on the nights you’ve managed to sleep at all. Even then, you’ve tried to slip out after he falls asleep and return before he wakes up.

Seonghwa has tried to pretend the entire ordeal with the mimic didn’t affect him, but you all know the truth in that it did, and deeply at that. Woo had found him beneath the floorboards of the stable, in a dug-out hole where he’d been tied up and gagged, eye black and head bleeding from where the mimic had hit him over the head with a plank.

He was there with Aisha - the real Aisha, as it turned out the one you’d talked to and had attempted to lend you her home for the night had also been a mimic’s charade. She’d been down there for weeks.

As for the rest of her family… Well, there was a reason the stable smelled so terrible, like mule shit but somehow worse. After all, the smell of death is far worse, especially when the bodies have been rotting for almost a month.

Seonghwa had only been down there for a couple hours, but that was enough for fear to creep in. With the smell of corpses hanging in the air, Aisha endlessly sobbing next to him, and the knowledge that his mimic counterpart was wreaking havoc amongst the people he cares about most, it was enough to leave more than a minor impact.

Fortunately, it appears he sleeps better having someone to hold onto.

Looking down at him, you run a hand gently through his hair, bright blonde locks moving between your fingers. It must feel nice, as he mindlessly smiles against you, lips curving upwards against your skin.

You know it’s a dangerous line you’re walking here, as the inevitability of your betrayal quickly approaches. This is especially true considering your decision to leave them once they’ve guided you through the Burovian mountains, in hopes that Minho’s prophecy will never come to pass. You’ll find a way to repay them later, but you have to ensure your survival first.

And yet, you can’t bring yourself to push him away. It’s mostly due to the fact he needs the support, the closeness clearly having eased and soothed his mind. However, there also remains what you don’t want to admit is a hint of selfishness.

The self-centered fact that you enjoy being like this, not only due to the warmth provided with such intimate closeness, but rather because it’s with him.

You think that in another lifetime, in another world, you could let yourself fall for him.

When his eyelids flutter open, Seonghwa’s eyes are coated in a sleepy haze, and he blinks a few times as if to remember his surroundings.

“Hey,” you whisper, voice light, and he lets out a groan of annoyance, although his teeth glint in a toothy grin. Rolling you over, he throws an arm over your torso, pressing your back into his chest.

“Hey yourself,” he murmurs into your shoulder, voice raspy. “Let me sleep more.”

“The sun’s high, it’s probably almost noon,” you reply, shaking your head, although you make no move to get up. “I’m supposed to have sword-training with San.”

“I’m sure he’ll survive your absence just this once,” Seonghwa says, fingers grazing softly along the bare skin of your abdomen. “If he’s mad then he can duel me, I’ll get my ass-kicked in your place.”

Playfully shoving his hand away, you turn yourself back over to face him. “Yes, that’s the way to convince me to stay, make fun of me.”

“Are you saying I need to convince you some other way?” Seonghwa offers, hand suddenly trailing its way down past your abdomen. He raises an eyebrow, and you match the expression.

When he leans in, the kiss is firm. Not sweet and delicate in the sleepy-morning fashion, but more passionate than that. It begs a question, asks for permission.

You suppose if you’re already being selfish, a little more couldn’t hurt.

Pulling your lips from his, you can’t help but grin. “Alright,” you sigh, placing a hand on his shoulder, pressing him into you. “I guess I can be a little late just this once. Maybe San won’t notice.”

“You’re late,” San says, leaning against a tree with both arms crossed as you sprint down the forest trail, running as fast as you can while dragging your sword with you. Pulling up the sleeve of your jacket as it slips down from your shoulder, you do your best to appear put-together, although you're certain you look as if you just rolled out of bed, which isn’t so far from the truth.

“Sorry,” you say, leaning over to place both hands on your knees as you catch your breath. “I overslept.”

San does not look impressed, although the corner of his lip quirks upwards in amusement. “Right,” he says plainly, removing his shoulder from the tree. “Shall we start?”

No wasting time badgering or teasing you, just right down to business. You like that about him.

He gives you a smile as you shrug the jacket from your shoulders, stretching your arms out in front of you and cracking your knuckles to quickly warm-up. You return the expression, although neither of you speak.

There’s been a bit of a rift between the two of you since the mimic, or more specifically since he comforted you afterwards. Not exactly a negative rift, as neither of you are upset with the other, nor is it overly awkward as the two of you continue to spend time training alone.

It’s more as if a can of worms has been opened. He’s comforted you, cradled you, ran his fingers over your hair and whispered that everything would be alright. Meanwhile, you sobbed into chest, clenched onto his tunic, and made him stay that way for almost an hour.

It was incredibly vulnerable on your end, as well as unbelievably empathetic on his. Either way, it was intimate, and it hangs in the air every time the two of you are alone together. Neither of you have talked about it, and you aren’t sure if you even need to, but it’s there. Undoubtedly.

“Okay,” he says, picking up his sword from where it had been discarded on the ground. Rotating it around in his hand, he eventually extends the tip of the blade out towards you, cocking his head to the side. “Your move.”

And so the two of you spar.

You’ve vastly improved over the last few days. Somehow it seems the trials of the desert invigorated you rather than stunted your progress. A little time away from the sword seemed to be exactly what you needed to grow a longing for it, and over the last couple days the two of you have dueled every afternoon.

When you move it’s no longer awkward, the sword feeling more at home in your hands. San says you have quite the natural knack for it, although you’re just glad you can spar with him for more than a few seconds before being knocked over. You’re only up to a couple minutes, but any progress is progress.

Besides, San is good. You still haven’t seen him go full out, but Seonghwa has mentioned his astounding ability enough times that you can mostly imagine it. Even after the recent stab-wound to his shoulder, he moves with an unbridled swiftness, as if the sword is merely an extension of his arm. His casual ease causes something to stir within your chest. Envy, mixed with adoration.

San takes a particularly sudden strike towards the hilt of your blade, catching you off guard. He’s incredible at keeping on your toes, at not allowing you to get too comfortable. Every time you think you have him figured out, he changes tactics. He is a difficult teacher, but that is what makes him a good one.

The strike knocks you off balance, but you do not let yourself lose your footing entirely. Bringing up the sword to block another impending blow, your feet slide backwards into the dirt as he swings once more. Making sure to keep quick on your toes, you take another step back, and the pattern continues.

Moving away from the clearing, the two of you make your way down the forest path, San striking blow after blow as you do your best to block them. Each and every swing has power, and it takes everything in you not to falter, feeling as sweat begins to bead and trail down your forehead.

Breathing becomes ragged as you just barely defend yourself from his next swing, it’s becoming increasingly apparent that you won’t be able to keep this up much longer. You’ll need to change tactics, before you face yet another quick defeat at his hands.

Bringing your focus to his stature, you manage a rushed scan from head to toe, searching for any sort of weakness. Fortunately, you’re not rendered hopeless, as it’s almost immediately obvious how he does not properly defend his own balance. It’s one of the most recent things San taught you.

“The key to winning a duel lies within the defence,” San had said yesterday morning, extending a hand out to help you back on your feet, having just knocked you over. You scowled up at him, irritated, but he knew that you hung on every word, eager to get better.

“The one who wins is the one left standing, not who delivers the most damage. Protect and withhold your balance, then seize your opportunity as it presents itself. It’s that simple.”

However, San continues to strike blow after blow. While he’s practically drilling you into the ground, a clear test of your will and endurance, it’s left the balance in his footing shoddy.

He’s gotten cocky, you realize. He assumes you won’t notice, and you aren’t sure if you’re annoyed with him for doubting you, or proud of yourself for proving him wrong. Likely both.

It’s not until after his next strike that you seize your opportunity. When his own sword comes down onto yours, you almost cushion the blow, letting him knock your own weapon towards the ground. It doesn’t matter, you won’t be striking him with it, and he won’t have the opportunity to try again.

Letting the momentum of his strike knock you downwards, you crouch further onto your knees, although doing your best to keep your ankles stable and upright. His balance is a little off, not near enough to fall over, but he clearly hadn’t expected you to suddenly drop. Capitalizing on the miscalculation, you swing a leg out towards him in a sweeping motion. It’s a bit awkward, as well as stunted considering you’ve never tried the maneuver before, but it’s just sloppy enough to work.

Your own foot takes out both of San’s own, and he lets out a small grunt of surprise as he topples over, a tad panicked as he tosses his sword out beside him. You don’t understand why he wouldn’t at least try to hold onto it, but it becomes apparent the second you realize where exactly San is falling.

That is to say, directly on top of you.

Chest pressing against your own, your back sinks into the dirt as he falls down onto you, knocking the wind from your lungs. He manages to catch himself on his elbows before your heads collide, but the result is his face hovering just above yours.

His chest heaves up and down, attempting to catch his breath, and for a moment neither of you say anything.

Because his lips are less than an inch from your own.

You can smell his breath, the strong scent of rich coffee beans, a blend he’d purchased back in Stockholm. It’s hot against your lips, and you become increasingly aware of the way his waist is pressed firm against yours. His cheeks are flushed, mouth parted open as he breathes. Sweat glistens on his skin, a testament to the effort required in your sparring.

It causes something inside of you to stir, a strange pull within your chest, what you’d almost describe as longing.

Startled by the feeling, you finally manage to pull your gaze up from his lips, only to find that he is doing the same. When his good eye meets yours, he freezes, as if exposed. You swallow hard.

Then he shoves himself off of you.

Rolling over and quickly jumping to his feet, he doesn’t go to grab his sword but rather walks a solid few strides away, running a hand through his hair as he almost makes a point of not facing you.

“That was good!” He blurts out, and his voice is raspy, almost choked. “That was really good. You caught me off guard, I didn’t expect that.”

You don’t respond immediately, because frankly, you have no idea what to say. You can hardly wrap your head around what just happened. San, being so close. His lips being so close, but more so the fact that for a moment, you didn’t wish them to be further away.

“Thanks,” you manage, and this time it’s your voice that’s weak.

Another long moment passes where neither of you say anything. He still doesn’t look at you, although he does go and grab his sword, shoving it back in its sheath.

“That’s enough for today,” he says quickly. The two of you would typically continue for at least another hour, but you don’t even bother protesting. You’re well aware of why he’s ending this early, and you agree with the sentiment.

“Alright,” you reply, and San does not waste a minute before taking off back down the forest trail and towards your campsite. Where the rest of your group is. Where Woo is.

“Right,” you think, flopping back into the dirt, looking upwards to the cloudy grey sky. You can hear the first rumble of thunder in the distance, an indication of a coming storm. You didn’t think it would rain today. “Fuck.”

San does not go back to the campsite. Instead he jogs until you are officially out of sight, before turning into the forest and pressing his back against a tree. He attempts to catch his breath, although his lungs do not seem to cooperate, each new gulp of air as unsatisfying as the last.

Leaning his head against the coolness of the bark, he slides down until he’s sitting on the ground, knees drawn up in front of him.

“What the hell just happened?” He thinks to himself, bringing both of his hands to his temples, attempting to rub away the newfound headache that has plagued him. “And what the fuck is wrong with you?”

San thought he was doing rather well to ignore the weird tension that hung in the air between the two of you since the sand village. Since he comforted you, since he held you in his arms and you clung to him just as tightly.

He knew immediately that it made something inside of him rouse. While he didn’t understand it at first, over the last couple days he thinks he knows why it made him feel so strange, an odd sort of sensation that has settled in his chest.

In that moment, you not only wanted him, but you needed him. It’s been a long time since San has felt like he’s been needed.

Instead, he’s the one who’s been in need of someone a lot lately. Woo after Gloria, you during your time at The Desert Lotus, and Seonghwa afterwards. Even before then, before they ever met you and this journey to Kuroku began, he rarely felt like someone to confide in. Woo doesn’t seem to need nor seek much comfort from him beyond the physical, and Seonghwa has always been the one to grant empathy rather than seek it.

But you let him comfort you. You let him hold you and whisper that it would be alright, in fact you sought after it. He’d be a fool to lie and say it didn’t give him a taste of the intimacy he’s been craving.

But that was supposed to be it. He was supposed to leave behind that moment the second the two of you left Aisha’s house, and move forward. No sense in longing for things he cannot have, nor seeking them out in someone he does not truly love, nor loves him in return. He is not such a fool.

Until just now. Until he was on top of you, could taste your breath on his tongue and feel you beneath him. Your eyes looking up at him, chest heaving, mouth parted open expectantly.

Not love, but for a moment there was lust. Horrible, but undeniable lust.

The way your gaze held his lips, he knows you felt it too.

But you smelt of Seonghwa, such a sobering way to bring him back to reality. You do not belong in his mind, he has no right to even indulge in an unwanted moment of weakness. For the love of the gods, you’d just been with Seonghwa that morning! How would Seonghwa feel, if he knew what San was thinking right now?

Seonghwa, who he yearns for even more greatly, with not just lust but also true affection. Love, although he fears calling it that. He already has his head full of one person that does not belong there, he has no room for another.

Then there’s the other issue. Him.

The reality of if Woo was watching, what would he think? San doesn’t even have to ponder the question, he’s well aware of the answer. He knows he shouldn’t, as he owes Woo nothing - the elemental the one who refuses to commit to him, not the other way around - but all he feels is shame.

San runs his hands through his hair, trying to swallow down the bile that floods his tongue, although his throat feels far too tight.

What is wrong with him? His self-control used to be something he prided himself on, so when did he become so weak?

He sucks in another tight breath, rubbing his face in his hands. When he pulls them away, he decides he’s done with this.

There’s nothing wrong with him, because nothing happened. He doesn’t need to complicate this. You will be gone within a week’s time, and there’s no sense in granting these emotions - if you can even call them that - the light of day.

Rising to his feet, he turns back towards the campsite before his mind can convince him otherwise.

He tells himself it doesn’t matter, and he does not permit himself the opportunity to question whether or not that is true.

“I thought you said there was a inn around here!” Woo calls, forced to shout over the sound of the pounding rain surrounding you. He holds a small tarp over both his and San’s head, looking over his shoulder at Seonghwa, expression drawn into a scowl.

The empath sits in front of you, doing his best to control the reins of the horse as the animal whinnies in protest, equally as unimpressed with the downfall. You also hold a tarp above the two of you, although considering he’s a good deal taller than you it doesn’t work nearly as well, rain pouring down from its sides onto your already drenched tunic.

The thunder had transformed into a raging storm almost immediately, soaking your tents and causing the four of you to pack up your campsite in a whirlwind of panic. Desperate to avoid hypothermia from sleeping under soaping wet blankets, you managed to be on the horses and moving before anything got too damaged.

Only to be riding against the storm for almost an hour, miserably searching for an inn Seonghwa remembers visiting years ago after having left Maralya.

“There is!” Seonghwa shouts back, before muttering beneath his breath so that only you can hear. “...Somewhere.”

Your stomach drops. Your arms shake as you hold the tarp over your head, both from soreness as well as the bitter cold. The wind bites sharply against your wet skin, the chill settling within your bones. Teeth involuntarily chattering, the ends of your ears and nose are entirely numb. Although, you almost consider the numbness a blessing, as at least they don’t feel cold anymore.

You agree with Woo’s sentiment. You seriously need to find this inn, so lest you are forced to down Minho’s elixir that resides in your pocket in hopes that it allows you to somehow survive this endless, monstrous chill.

As if sensing both your cynicism and desperation, the god’s answer your fears in the form of a warm light that glows from further down the trail.

“Oh thank the gods,” Seonghwa breathes, before shouting upwards to Woo and San. “It’s just up ahead!”

The inn you approach is small, only big enough for what you assume is a handful of rooms for the few travelers making their way through the Burovian mountain pass. A quaint little brick building that’s warm light pours from its front windows, the sign simply reads: “Mountain Inn”.

Arriving in front of its doorstep, you untie your bags from the horses in a relentless hurry, throwing two satchels over your shoulder as Woo quickly grabs the reins of each of the horses. He leads them towards the stable stationed at the side of the inn, as you, San, and Seonghwa sprint through the open doorway.

Entering the inn is like being transported into a different climate, nearly a different world. The air is thick and warm, the fire from the furnace in the corner providing the place with a cozy feel. The front desk also doubles as a bar of sorts, tables scattered around the room.

It’s busier than you expected, multiple groups of travelers seeming to have fled here for the night. A few are as drenched as yourself, while others appear to have changed into a warm pair of clothing. Not many of them drink, but if they do it’s something warm.

“Want to grab a seat? We’ll see if they have any rooms left,” San says to you, motioning to the table in the far corner of the room. His voice remains calm, expression even settled into a smile as he looks at you.

You and San have been doing an excellent job of pretending the little incident during sword-training this morning never happened. And as far as you’re concerned, it did never happen.

It’s not like you have any sort of actual feelings towards the swordsman. You think he’s kind, compassionate and steady, but that doesn’t need to be romantic. He had just been so close. It had been hot and sweaty and both of you were breathing rather heavily, it was just a biological response. Nothing more.

You almost believe it.

Letting San and Seonghwa heckle the inn-keeper, you leave your two satchels with them before heading towards the corner of the room. Ringing some of the water from the sleeves of your tunic, it falls in a puddle beneath the table as you settle into a chair. Leaning your head against the wall, your eyes are falling shut before you even consider closing them.

You’re tired. And cold. And sore.

It’s been over a week since you slept on something other than a blanket on the ground, and if it weren’t for the way your body feels as if it’s physically shutting down in protest of the fact, you’d barely be able to contain your excitement.

You nearly nod off in your chair before you feel something drop down on the table in front of you.

“Here you are, dear,” a voice says from above you. Peeking an eye open, you’re greeted by a plump middle-aged woman with greying dark hair and small spectacles smiling down at you. Her voice is cheery as she slides whatever she’s placed on the table closer to you.

Looking down, it appears to be a drink of sorts. In a thick white mug, it’s a brown colour with a stick of cinnamon protruding from the top.

“Hot buttered rum,” she explains, taking your bewildered expression as being towards the drink. Well, technically it is toward the drink, but not because of it’s flavour.

“Oh, this must be a mistake,” you say, tone polite as you push it back towards her. “I didn’t order anything.”

“Of course not!” She exclaims, almost too jovial as she pushes it back. There’s a twinkle in her eye, her smile almost mischievous. “It’s courtesy of the handsome young fellow at the table over there.”

Following her finger as she points to the other end of the room, your gaze almost immediately locks with a man sitting at a table. He’s surrounded by a group of equally young men, with dark hair and light eyes. Dressed much warmer than yourself, he sports black gloves and a scarf that wraps around his neck, holding a mug in his hand. Based on the cinnamon stick emerging from the top, it’s the same as yours.

He is handsome, you can’t deny that.

“Ah, young love,” the lady sighs, placing a hand on her heart. She leans in closer, although she doesn’t bother to lower her voice. “They aren’t as spry as they get older. You should invite him over.”

You can practically feel the way your cheeks flush red with embarrassment. “I’ll take that into consideration, thank you.”

Appearing to have taken the hint, she gives you a wink before heading off and back behind the counter. Turning back towards the gifter of the drink, he continues to smile at you, before nodding the glass in your direction in a sort of long-distance “cheers”.

Out of politeness you return the gesture, although you do nothing more than that. Even if the borderline intrusive waitress has suggested you invite him over, you know that would be a horrible idea. Frankly, you have your hands full with the surplus of men already in your life, and flirting is something you don’t think you’ll ever have the luxury of again.

However, it appears the stranger reads your polite smile as an invitation, as he rises to his feet. Whispering something to the man beside him, his friend casts a glance at you from over his shoulder, before grinning and giving the black-haired man a pat on the back.

Casting a wary look behind the man as he approaches you, Seonghwa and San no longer appear to be at the front desk. Your bags are also gone, likely having been taken to your room by the two of them.

Good. You aren’t sure why, but something about the thought of Seonghwa or San thinking that you may be flirting with a stranger makes you feel a bit uneasy. You try not to fixate too much on that thought, the fact that you’re practically engaged to another man yet another issue they’re unaware of, but the relief remains all the same.

The handsome stranger stands in front of you, one gloved hand resting on the table as the other holds his mug. His expression is soft. “Hi. May I join you?”

“If you want to,” you reply, not wishing to be rude. Still, you don’t want to give him the wrong idea. “But I’m with some friends who will be back right away.”

“That’s fine,” he says through a chuckle, pulling out a chair and seating himself across from you. “I’m known to make a quick impression.”

A tad caught off guard by the brazenness of his tone, you don’t say anything in response, although you do offer a chuckle. The man’s gaze continues to watch you, light eyes flickering over your features. He smiles.

“Do you have a name?” He asks.

You take a sip of your drink before answering. “It’s Yeji,” you reply, and he hums to himself, as if mulling it over in his mind.

“Pretty,” he says, and maybe you’d be flattered if it was actually your name. “I’m Yeosang.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Yeosang.”

“Likewise.” He says, fingers tapping against the tabletop. He leans in a little closer, as if hoping to break past the barrier of awkward small-talk, moving towards something the faintest hint deeper. “So, what brings you to the Burovian mountains?”

You almost hesitate, but you’ve always been rather good at thinking on your feet. You’ve had to be, considering you’ve gotten this far with the present circumstances.

“Just traveling,” you say with ease. “Trying to see all of Burovia, figured the mountains would be important not to miss.”

He hums again, a small smile creeping its way onto the corners of his lips. “That’s a good call. The mountains are gorgeous, definitely worth tenting for a couple nights. I’d recommend South-Peak Point, if you want a good view.”

You smile at this. Of course you aren’t actually travelling for recreation and will not have the time to stop and search for any sort of view, no matter how mind-blowing it may be, but for a moment it’s fun to pretend. You always wanted to travel across Burovia, when you were naive and didn’t know how dangerous and gruelling the journey could be, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to play along.

“You sound like a well seasoned traveller,” you say, and Yeosang’s eyes gleam at this. He chuckles to himself.

“Something like that,” he laughs. “You’ll also want to hit all the major kingdoms. Zaria, Kuroku, Dildysus. I’d normally suggest Libaiya, but they’ve gotten into a bit of trouble recently.”

You know it shouldn’t, as he also listed the rest of the major kingdom’s prior, but something about your kingdom’s name tumbling from his lips sets you on edge. You shouldn’t be talking to strangers, even ones with kind eyes and clever tongues. You’re supposed to be laying low.

“I’ve heard,” you say shortly, hoping he’ll drop the subject, or that Seonghwa or San may come back to the table.

“Mysterious black-clad army seizing the castle. Killing the king, hunting their princess,” Yeosang says, lifting a hand to place his chin in his palm. “It’s all very fantastical, don’t you think? Like something out of a storybook. Strange to be living it.”

You almost laugh at how very true that is.

Even so, you have no interest in entertaining the topic any longer. “I’ll be heading to Zaria soon,” you lie, not wanting to give away your real destination, even if he doesn’t appear dangerous. Although, it does strike you as a bit strange for him to bring up the siege, considering it’s likely a heavy topic for many others beyond yourself.

“Long ways away,” he comments, lip quirking upwards. “I’d assume you’d try somewhere closer. Like, I don’t know…Kuroku?”

He says it with such ease and passivity that you know it’s likely nothing, but something about the way he watches you over the rim of the mug as he says the kingdom’s title makes you feel… uneasy. Paranoia, likely, but nonetheless you no longer wish to participate in the conversation.

“I’ve come from Kuroku,” you reply, perhaps a little too blunt. Glancing over his shoulder once more, neither San nor Seonghwa have returned, and you chew on the corner of your cheek, nervous. “Listen, my party should be here soon-”

“Yeosang!” A voice joyfully boasts from behind the man, placing a hand down atop his shoulder. “Are you planning on introducing us to your new friend over here?”

Looking up at the newcomer, he has bright red hair and full cheeks. He’s also not alone, accompanied by a couple of the other men that had been seated at Yeosang’s table.

You internally groan, as frankly, this is not the company you currently wish to indulge your time in. You’re exhausted, and the men appear to take your presence as a form of entertainment. One of them casts Yeosang a wink, the other’s practically swarming around your table.

“This is Yeji,” Yeosang says, extending a hand out towards you in display. “She’s taking a little trip across Burovia. Wanted to see the mountains.”

“Ah sure, sure,” one of the men leaning over the table comments. He turns to face you, lips pulled into a toothy grin. He’s missing one of his middle teeth. “If it’s Burovia you want to see, you’re in luck. We’re the brightest bunch you could’ve ran into.”

You can’t help but let a bit of your impatience slip, tone perhaps a little too sarcastic. “Oh, I’m sure.”

If the man takes offence, he doesn’t show it. Instead he laughs, a hearty sound from his gut. “You pick em’ well Yeosang, we could use some spunk in our group.”

You pause at the statement, this being the second comment he’s made alluding to you joining them. Surely he cannot be serious, as you have literally just met them and are doing nothing to hide the discomfort displayed in your expression.

There’s something a little too forward about these men. The man with the missing tooth stands a little too close to you, so that you can smell the thick stench of alcohol on his breath. The glances they exchange with one another makes a sense of unease settle in your stomach, and you have no interest in sticking around to find out whether or not he’s joking about you joining them.

You awkwardly pull your chair back and rise to your feet. “Listen, I have to go find my group. It was nice meeting you.”

You nod to Yeosang, prepared to leave the table and wander the inn’s hall until you stumble upon your room, but you're stopped as a hand grips your arm. Not tightly, but enough so that you can’t leave without yanking it free.

“C’mon, don’t leave so soon,” he says, giving you a soft smile that does not match the way his fingers clench around your wrist. The leather of his glove is cold against your skin. “You should at least let us show you the trail to South-Peak Point. Wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

You know it’s stupid considering you have no plans of going to see the view anyways, but the patronizing assumption that you couldn’t manage to find the trail on your own causes a flare of annoyance to light inside of you. You huff, letting out a laugh that holds little humour.

“Thanks, but I think I can handle it,” you say. You manage to pull your arm free, but Yeosang is quick to grab it again, and this time a little more firm as he speaks.

“Fine, just let me give you something first,” he says. You consider pulling your arm free in a message of denial, but you figure that’d be useless. If he’s suggesting leaving you alone, you may as well swallow your pride and see whatever it is that he wishes to show you.

Yeosang digs into his pocket with his free hand, pulling out a piece of paper. It’s coffee-stained, crumpled into a ball, and frankly a little gross, which is why you can’t help the disgusted grimace that settles over your features as he drops it into your extended hand.

Unraveling the ball, you’re quick to notice that there are words sketched in thick black ink, clearly mass-printed rather than hand-written. You stare at them.

You continue staring at them for several seconds, re-reading the title over and over again as your brain appears to have momentarily stopped working in order to comprehend them.

When it finally manages, your heart is the next thing to stop functioning, as it plummets down into your stomach with overwhelming dread.

WANTED: PRINCESS OF LIBAIYA.

Beneath that title, a drawing of you.

Clearly someone must have realized the sketch to be inaccurate, as it no longer looks so much like a stranger. Eyes and nose now having returned to their proper size and your hair its current length and texture, even without the details of your present scarring it’s quite obviously you.

And if it’s truly so obvious, it means that the hoard of men that have surrounded you are just as aware of the fact.

“Couldn’t have made it easy for us, could ya’ Princess?” The man with the missing tooth says from beside you, and your grip tightens around the paper, crumpling it between your fingers. Before you can contemplate the fear that ignites itself within your system, your feet are set in motion towards the door, a desperate attempt at escape.

Yeosang’s hand wraps around your wrist before you can make your exit. This time, it is not the coolness of his leather glove that greets you, but the warmth of his palm. Or better, the horrific scolding heat of his palm, as when his flesh touches your own it’s with a burning sensation that causes you to let out a scream of pain.

His right leather glove having been discarded on the table, you’re immediately struck with familiarity of the week prior, of Jay back in Gloria.

He’s a sadist, you realize, and if you believed you were in trouble before then you’re screwed now.

The other groups of people seated within the inn all falter at the sound of your scream, the bustle of the establishment coming to a studded halt as even the lady who brought you your drink stops pouring the pint of ale in her hand. However, while every eye in the rooms seems to have their attention brought to you, none of them seem too keen on lending a hand. Nobody wants to mess with a sadist, let alone with the large band of brutish ruffians that accompany him.

You want to be mad at them, but you cannot. You are a stranger, they don’t owe you anything. Frankly, you’re more than a little scared too.

“We’ve been hunting you for some time now,” Yeosang says through a laugh, eyes glinting with something that resembles mischief, but not as playful. Greed.  “I’ve got to hand it to you, you’ve managed to keep a low profile. Well done.”

“Let go of me,” you spit through gritted teeth, doing your best to appear threatening, even if tears sting in your eyes from the way your flesh sizzles and steams.

He does let you tug your arm free, but only because he knows you aren’t going to try and make any sort of quick escape, as it’ll surely be rewarded with another scalding of your arm.

When Yeosang speaks, it’s to the men of his party, not you. “Let’s make our way back to Androndea, I think that’s where we last saw them.” It’s in reference to the black-clad men, you’re certain of it.

“What about the storm?” A voice interjects, although from which man of the party you cannot tell.

“Are you kidding?” Yeosang laughs, grin widening. “We just got 250,000 gold pieces richer. Who gives a shit about a little rain?”

“C’mon, Princess,” the man with the missing tooth says, placing his hands on your shoulder, grip uncomfortably firm. While his tone has remained mostly jovial despite the stakes of the situation, his voice suddenly lowers as he leans in, lips roughly an inch from your ear.  “You don’t cooperate, we’ll kill you. We get the reward either way.”

And really, how can you possibly argue with that?

The man steers you forward so that you’re walking towards the exit, and your gaze darts back towards the rooms, hoping that either San or Seonghwa might have heard you scream and come to check what’s wrong. It doesn’t seem likely, as nobody appears from down the hallway, and the inn continues to remain so silent that you could hear a pin drop.

You consider letting out another scream for them to hear you, but the thought of Yeosang placing his hand over your mouth is quick to quelm the idea. You’ve grown rather fond of your lips over the years, and don’t have any particular interest in having them burnt off.

You’re running out of options, and something tells you that if you walk through the inn’s exit, you’re as good as dead.

“What’s going on here?”

Said by a voice from in front of you, your attention is brought to Woo as he stands with his arms crossed. Having returned from the stable, he looks pissed as his eyes flicker between the men that surround you, eyebrows drawn into a deep scowl.

Your initial reaction is immense relief. Things have been good between you and Woo since the night by the fire. A little awkward, considering without the constant arguing and general distaste between both of you, you’ve grown to realize that you don’t really know how to actually exist around one another. There’s still the occasional teasing and bickering, but overall moments alone have been quiet, although not horribly tense. He doesn’t hate you, and based on the way his face twists with both disgust and annoyance towards the men surrounding you, you’re certain that them dragging you out of the building isn’t something the elemental will let slide.

However, your secondary response to Woo’s appearance is overwhelming, horrible dread. These men, they know you. They know who you really are, and if Woo finds out who that is- especially considering what he’d told you by the fire - you’re more than fucked.

You’re dead.

Woo goes to reach for your arm, but the man with the missing tooth pulls you away from him, a little too roughly as you nearly lose your balance.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Woo asks, and his voice nearly sends a shiver down your spine. His tone isn’t necessarily violent, not loud or overly angry. It’s quiet, low. It’s a threat, but only if they make it to be.

Yet, Yeosang doesn’t treat it as such. “Fuck off,” he laughs, shouldering Woo out of his way, nodding for the men to follow him. None of them do. “We got her first, the reward’s ours.”

“Shit,” you think to yourself, the air in your lungs dissipating as if they’ve been squeezed. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Woo scowls at Yeosang. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid,” Yeosang laughs, rolling his eyes, lip curved upwards into a grin. His eyes glow a deep red hugh, as he likely still rides the high your pain has granted him. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“This is a member of my party,” Woo says through gritted teeth, patience clearly waning thin as his hand clenches in and out, the faintest of flames beginning to dance between his fingers. “I’d appreciate it if you'd let her go before this gets ugly.”

There’s a series of ooo’s let out from the men around you, pure mockery. It’s a challenge, and to your surprise Woo does not extend himself to meet it. Instead, his gaze turns to you, and he nods over towards the hallway where your room is. “Come on, Yeji. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t understand the stakes at play, or why these men are bugging you and toying with him. If he did, he’d know there’s not a chance in hell of them just letting you leave, of escaping this without any bloodshed.

You don’t know what to do, but you know that you have to do something. The jar that contains your lies is teetering at the edge of a cliff, a mere breeze enough to blow it over. You have to act now, before it is smashed beyond repair.

“Yeji, huh?” Yeosang says, mulling over the name as he glances over at you. Your current terror must read blatantly on your face, as his own eyes light up with something that resembles delight. He turns back to Woo, grinning. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Woo- '' You start, trying to gain his attention - or better, take it away from Yeosang. You attempt to move towards him, but the man’s grip tightens around your shoulder, practically pulling you into him.

“Quit playing games,” Woo says, although you don’t miss the faintest hint of suspicion edging it’s way into his voice, as his gaze darts between Yeosang and your own. “Give her back.”

“You don’t even realize how precious the cargo is that you’ve been carrying,” Yeosang says, stepping a little closer to Woo. His grin is wicked, as he seeks to create pain and chaos in true sadist fashion. “You could have been rich, my friend.”

Woo’s scowl deepens, and his gaze falls on yours over Yeosang’s shoulder. “What is he talking about?” He asks, and his tone isn’t accusatory. Even though his gaze has become wary, words hesitant, he’s not angry with you.

Not yet. He will be.

“I…” You start, before trailing off. You should tell him, you know that. He’s going to know, is bound to realize, and that is only if you somehow manage to make it out of this alive. Maybe if the truth comes from you he’ll somehow grant you mercy.

But you can’t bring your lips to move. Out of fear of him abandoning you. Of in fury changing his mind and seeking the reward himself.

Or the most likely of options, being too terrified to see the utter betrayal that will read blatantly across his face.

Woo’s eyes narrow, lips drawing into a thin line as his gaze shifts back to Yeosang. “Let her go. I won’t ask again.”

Yeosang snickers at this, casting a mischievous glance back to both you and his party. “Quite the bodyguard you’ve acquired, haven’t you, Princess?” You wince at the pet-name that doubles as a title, not missing how Woo’s brows furrow even deeper.

Yeosang turns back towards Woo. His tongue slides along his teeth, almost serpent like, and he looks the elemental up and down. “And if I don’t, what then?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

There’s a tense moment as Woo stares down Yeosang, gaze refusing to budge. He doesn’t appear the slightest bit afraid, even though there remains about a dozen burly armed men before him. You wonder what it’s like, to be so sure of yourself. To be the master of such raw and unbridled power.

Then Yeosang reaches forward, grabbing Woo’s throat in his palm.

There’s a choked sound, followed by sizzling as Yeosang’s gift clearly takes Woo by surprise. Fortunately, for what Yeosang’s contains in one hidden gift, Woo matches him with his own.

There’s a flash of heat and light as a ball of flame ignites within the elemental’s hand, followed by a firm sideways swing as Woo’s fiery fist slams against the side of Yeosang’s head. It sends the sadist reeling, as he stumbles backwards. He clutches his scalp, which now sparks and burns from Woo’s flame.

The strike sends the inn into a frenzy, the men around you all unsheathing their own weapons, stalking towards the elemental. Woo’s gaze flickers between them, pupils darting back and forth as he appears to size up each opponent.

Then he begins.

Starting with a strong gust of air that blows two of the men approaching him off their feet, they tumble over the top of a table, landing on the ground behind it with a series of groans and a loud “thud”. Woo does not give them the chance to get up, as he sends another large blast of wind in their direction. The table slides backwards, horrifically fast as it traps them between it and the wall, accompanied by a sound that resembles the breaking of bones.

Turning to his next opponents - or better, victims, as it’s blatantly obvious they don’t stand a chance - both of his palms fill with flame. Throwing one ball of fire towards one of the men, it hits him square in the jaw, to which he lets out a wail of agony before clutching his face and falling to the ground.

Woo prepares the another flame, but it’s rendered unnecessary, as the other man’s expression floods with terror. Taking off past Woo, he sprints through the inn’s open door, towards cowardly safety. Woo chuckles, a low and unhumorous sound.

Yeosang swears under his breath, gaze darting between his deserted lackey and Woo. He turns to face you, before nodding to the man that continues to hold onto your shoulders.

The man with the missing tooth’s grip on you tightens, and he begins to drag you with him as he makes a break towards the door. Woo is currently preoccupied with two more of Yeosang’s men, clutching his fist as one of the kegs behind the counter explodes, the sheer pressure of the liquid enough for one of the men to go flying backwards. His head collides with the wall opposite to you with a sickening “crack”.

It makes your stomach twist, but you have greater matters at hand. Despite the way you fight desperately against the man’s grasp, he is massive, leaving zero possibility for you to outmatch him with raw strength. You need to be more tactical.

As you attempt to shout out for Woo, the man’s large hand flies over your mouth, ensuring that he remains under the radar as he continues his pursuit towards the exit. Yeosang already stands in the doorway, waving him forward.

They’re willing to desert their comrades, you realize. Leave them to suffer so long as they get their reward. If you thought they were greedy and sleazy before, you find them even more repulsive now.

The realization that if you don’t do something now, you’re likely not going to get the chance to do something ever sets in, and it causes you to consider your options. Your arms are rendered immobile due to the force of his grip, and your legs can’t cause much damage either as they’re mostly focused on remaining standing as the man rushes the two of you towards the doorway.

With all your limbs rendered useless, there aren’t many options available. Which is why you sink your teeth down onto one of his fingers that cover your mouth.

The sweat of his skin tastes salty on your tongue, and it takes everything in you not to gag as a strong metallic flavour soon follows suit. Instead of releasing his hand, you bite down even harder, so much so that you can feel the thin-ness of his bone between your teeth.

He mutters a shocked swear beneath his breath, wincing as he tears his hand free. It’s only a moment, but his grip on your shoulder relinquishes itself as he cradles his hand, glowering in disgust at the deep bite marks residing along his bloody finger.

You don’t waste the opportunity. Removing your sword from its sheath, you immediately settle into your defensive stance. San’s voice rings in your mind: Low on your knees, light on the balls of your feet, sword extended in both hands.

You do just that, and when the man finally brings his attention back over to you - arms extended to grab you, as if expecting you to have foolishly remained where he’d left you - his expression is one of surprise. It takes him a moment, but a crooked grin slowly creeps over lips before he reaches down to relinquish his own sword.

“Full of surprises, aren’t we, Princess?” He mocks, falling into his own defensive stance. It’s a tad sloppy, you note. He remains heavy on the heels of his feet, San would make him regret that immediately in training.

Before you can assess his technique any further, he’s on the move. Approaching you with a monstrous swing, both hands over his head as he brings his long-sword down upon your own, it takes all the strength you can muster to not drop the blade. Your wrists burn at the contact, but you don’t let yourself focus on the pain.

Upon striking you, the man takes a few seconds too long to raise his blade once more. He’s slow. San has always been fast. Even if the result is San’s swing’s not being as powerful, as the swordsman would put it, focusing too much on strength can quickly become a weakness.

And it does, as this time you're ready for his attack. When he brings the blade down again, instead of deflecting the strike you parry backwards, causing him to miss you entirely.

The man growls in frustration, followed by a stifled groan of pain as you swing your own blade out towards him, managing to nick his shoulder even as he attempts to dodge the swipe.

You grin, and it dawns on you that in this moment you’re out-wielding him. This is not San - of whom you know, who knows you in return and seeks to train rather than beat you - this is an actual opponent who strikes with a vengeance, a desire to win.

And yet, you are the one who’s winning, and it fills you with a sense of pride that you aren’t sure you’ve ever felt. A sense of passion, a desire for more.

Striking the man once again, this time your sword slices sharp against his cheek. Blood immediately drops from the wound near his eye like a red-stained tear. For a moment, he falters. Now should be his opportunity to attack, but he does not take it. Instead, he opts to fall back into his defensive stance, chewing on his bottom lip as his gaze darts upwards to meet yours.

He’s nervous. You smile.

You’re prepared to strike towards him again, already settling your sword into both of your hands to prepare another swing, but you don’t get the chance.

A hand grips around the back of your neck, and with it comes that familiar burning sting. You drop your sword.

“Quite the show,” Yeosang whispers as his fingers tighten around your neck, his nails digging into your burning skin as he pulls you behind him towards the door. “Let’s go.”

Scanning the room, you find Woo fighting with a tall and lanky fellow, who appears to be running from him more than actually sparring. San and Seonghwa also must have overheard the commotion during your sword fight, as they both have appeared and are dealing with their own opponents, San with his sword and Seonghwa with hand-to-hand combat. They are the only men left standing, the rest having either escaped or are crumpled against the floor.

Fortunately, while Yeosang’s grip is agonizing it does not render your lips useless as the man’s before him had.

“Woo!” You shout, breaking his attention from the man he has just finished throwing yet another ball of fire at, this one having landed true against his chest.

The elemental’s eyes widen when he sees you being pulled towards the door, and he does not hesitate for even a second before taking off after you.

When his fist connects with Yeosang’s nose, it is with no flame, just the sound of his raw knuckles cracking against the man’s face. Yeosang’s stumbles backwards with his hands cupped around his nose bridge, Woo following after him.

It’s with another swift punch that Yeosang crumbles to the ground. By the way he doesn’t move to get back up, you know he’s fallen unconscious.

You finally take the opportunity to catch your breath. There’s a moment shared in silence between both you and Woo, as you watch Yeosang breath in and out, eyelids fallen shut.

When Woo moves, it’s towards you. Hand wrapping around your wrist, he pulls you with him towards the door, before shouting over his shoulder to both Seonghwa and San. “Finish the job, we’ll be down the trail!”

Running as to not be dragged behind him, you pass by the inn’s owners on your way out. The other customers and the lady who’d given you the hot buttered rum hide behind the front desk, trembling in fear as they watch you with worried stares. You aren’t sure if they’re afraid of you, Woo, or whether your group will bring them more trouble before the night is over. Likely a mixture of them all.

Woo pulls you through the door, the two of you taking off down the trail. You jog for what you assume is ten minutes, and when he doesn’t stop, you realize that you aren’t sure where exactly you’re even going.

“Woo?” You ask. You aren’t able to see his face as he runs in front of you, expression shrouded in the storm’s shadow. It continues to downpour, the many droplets pounding heavily on your skin, filling you with a bitter cold as they soak through your tunic.

“Woo!” You try again when he doesn’t answer, forced to shout over the sound of the rain hitting the ground, pattering against the many puddles as the trail has already begun to flood. “Where are we going?”

It’s at this he finally lets go of you, stopping in his relentless pursuit. His gaze flies up and down the trail, searching if anyone had followed the two of you out. Once he realizes you're alone, he sighs, swallowing hard.

Then a sharp gust of wind blows you off your feet.

You tumble along the trail, mud splashing up and into your face as you roll along the dirt, knees burning as they scrape along the rocks beneath you. The force of the wind is great, and when you finally manage to stop rolling, you’re dizzy as you rise to your feet.

Even through the unsteadiness, you take off into the forest before you can consider otherwise. The realization of the danger you’re in has set in to your body, but not yet your mind. All you can think is run.

Twigs and rocks crunching beneath you along the forest floor, you fight against the mud threatening to suck you down, clawing at the bottoms of your shoes. You’re doing alright, until it’s one particularly thick patch of the wet dirt that takes hold of your boot, and you tumble down onto your forearms.

Attempting to immediately rise back up to your feet, it proves to be no use as the mud refuses to relinquish your ankle. You turn around, prepared to shed yourself of your boot if that is what permits you to escape.

Only to find that the mud is not only sucking you down, but crawling up your leg. It’s deep black sludge twisting around your calf, creeping its way upwards.

You attempt to pull your leg free, but it’s of no use, especially considering the mud has also begun to intrap your other ankle as well.

“No, no, no,” you whisper beneath your breath, panicked as your gaze shoots upwards. Woo makes his way towards you, clearly in no rush as his hand is extended out in front of him, fingers dancing as the mud’s pace begins to quicken. It engulfs both of your legs, and it’s only then you feel it begin to creep over and onto your wrists, the mud from other puddles within the forest approaching you in the form of large, worm-like beings.

A large echo of thunder rattles around you, not far off as the forest flashes with a strike of lightning. It casts light across Woo’s expression as he approaches, and his eyes are dark as he watches you through furrowed brows. Rain pours down upon him and his dark hair clings to his forehead, giving him a rugged look as he remains covered in the damp grime of the keg’s ale. His jaw is set firm, teeth clearly gritted beneath the tight line his lips are drawn into.

If looks could kill, you would already be dead.

Woo clenches his fist, and the lines of wet earth wrap firm around your wrists, while the mud that encompasses your feet suddenly launches you upwards. It’s as if you are standing, but a layer of mud continues to sit under your feet, trapping you as your back presses firm against a tree that sits behind you. Meanwhile, the mud around your wrists pulls your arms in opposite directions, like two ropes attached from opposite trees.

You know you can’t move. You don’t even bother to try.

Woo finally finds himself in front of you. His gaze bares into yours, and for a moment he doesn’t say anything. He doesn't have to, the rage that swirls within the darkness of his eyes already says enough.

When he finally does speak, his voice is quiet. It gives nothing away. No anger, no sadness. Nothing.

“Who are you?” He asks.

You know he heard them back at the inn, the men calling you Princess, the way they went on and on about how you were “precious cargo”. He knew about the reward since he found the poster back in Stockholm. Woo is smart, and based on the way his eyes bare through you, there’s no doubt he’s already put the two and two together. No sense in hiding any longer.

“I think you already know,” you answer.

Woo’s face contorts inwards on itself at the admission. All of his features - his eyebrows, his lips, his nose - squinching together, a look of overwhelming, crushing devastation. He looks upwards into the sky, as if to curse the god’s for where he has now found himself. His fists clench at his sides, and the mud tightens around your wrists and ankles, although you aren’t sure if it’s intentional.

“Shit,” he whispers, and it’s more broken than it is angry. He buries his face into his hands, and it appears as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The realization of it all hitting him in full force, the depth of your lie. How Seonghwa has gotten himself so deeply entangled with a fraud. How your father is dead and there is no money in Kuroku, meaning San could be as good as fucked.

How he completely unravelled himself for you, only to find it was your family that had tied all the knots in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” you say, even though you know it’s a meaningless, pathetic excuse for an apology. You don’t expect his forgiveness, you don’t deserve it. Perhaps that is why you do not try, as you do not wish for him to grant it.

Woo pulls his hands away and they fall down at his side. He does not look at you, instead his eyes remain trained up at the sky, the rain pounding endlessly across his face. He does not seem to care.

Woo swallows hard. Then he moves towards you.

Digging into his pocket, he pulls something out. As its cool metal presses against your throat, you’re quick to recognize it to be a knife. Based on the beautiful design fashioned on the hilt that you can see from the corner of your eye, it is the one from the day you met them, the one he’d taken from you before the scorpions.

You bet he wishes the beasts had finished the job.

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” he says lowly, and his eyes meet yours over the blade. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, warm against the storm’s bitter cold, and it reminds you of back in the sand village. When he’d brought you into Aisha’s house’s narrow hallway and asked for your help, a testament towards his newly forming trust. A mistake.

His eyes are glossy, and when the tears begin to slip through it is not the same as it had been a few nights ago. Then he was nothing but vulnerable. His tears were sad, but they were of the gentle kind, the trusting kind.

These tears are just as raw, but they are born of nothing but fury, of hatred in its most pure form.

“You are a monster,” he says quietly. “You are no better than them. Jay, Warden, your father,” he spits the word out like a curse.

“At least they are honest about what they are,” he says through gritted teeth, practically seething as he stares daggers into your eyes. “At least they don't trick broken men into doing their bidding. At least they don’t hide behind pretty smiles and fake tears.”

You swallow hard, and you feel the knife against your throat as it bobs. When you speak it is choked and quiet, the blade not permitting anything more than that. “Do you want to know why?”

“You think I give a fuck why?” Woo says through a harsh laugh. “I don't care if you’re on death row, I don't care about what men are hunting you, I don't care what real business you have in Kuroku. I don’t care.”

He presses the knife further against your throat and you wince, the blade breaking past the first layer of skin. “You saw what San is dealing with. You saw how badly we need that fucking money, and you didn’t give a shit!”

You want to argue that you did care, that it has been eating you up inside since the confrontation in Gloria. That every spare moment in solitude has been devoured by guilt, wanting nothing more than to tell them the truth, but too afraid to take the chance given your reward.

You don’t tell him this, because Woo does not want to hear it. You do not blame him, he does not owe you the opportunity to plead your case. He owes you nothing.

“But of course you didn’t. Your whole cursed family doesn't care about anyone but themselves,” he continues, lips curling in disgust. “Were you laughing inside listening to what happened to me in your orphanages? Was it amusing for you?”

The accusation makes your chest ache, because no, of course not. His story was horrific, unlike anything you thought your father was capable of. It crushed you, and it continues to crush you still. It certainly is not something in which you find any sort of entertainment.

“I didn’t know about the orphanages Woo-” You start, desperate to have him aware of that fact, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Like hell you didn’t know!” He cuts you off, and now he is yelling. His tone is higher than normal, as he fights off the tears that well in his eyes, voice breaking with emotion. “You think I'm actually going to believe that, after all of this?”

He shakes his head, and you can feel as his grip tightens around the hilt of the knife in his hand. “I should slit your throat right now.”

“You should,” you agree, simply because it is true. A tense moment of silence passes and Woo does not use the knife, nor does he pull it away. “So why don’t you?”

His answer is preceded by a pause, but when he speaks, it’s as if it should be obvious. “Because of them. The people you’ve used,” he spits, his breathing escalating as he struggles to control his anger. “Seonghwa is so far passed smitten for you, and San is too good of a person to agree to what you deserve.”

He presses the knife a little deeper. Not enough to kill, or even severely wound, but enough that it hurts. You swallow down a whine of pain, although tears sting in your eyes. When he speaks, his voice is low.

“I want you to understand that if it weren't for them, I would kill you where you stand. And I would enjoy it.”

“Woo? Yeji?” Someone calls from down the trail - Seonghwa, based on the accent - heading towards you as his voice becomes louder. Woo’s face twists even deeper into a scowl at the mention of your name. Your fake name.

“You guys?” You hear Seonghwa call again, before a series of footsteps head towards you. In the distance you can see as both he and San approach, your sword in San’s hand. “We saw your footsteps heading into the forest, what are you guys…”

Seonghwa trails off as he sees the two of you before him, the elaborate mud-prison that Woo has trapped you in certainly an alarming sight. Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrow together and he steps towards you, casting Woo a bewildered look.

“Woo, what the hell are you doing?” he asks. In response, Woo clenches his fist, and the mud comes tumbling down to the ground. You fall with it, knees burning as they crash against the forest underbrush. You don’t bother rising to your feet, your legs feeling too much as if they’ve turned into liquid to manage it.

“Ask her,” Woo spits, shoving the knife back into his pocket. When you don’t respond, your lips feeling too numb to make themselves move, his tone becomes even more furious. “Tell them what I’m doing.”

You want to, but your tongue suddenly feels like it’s swollen three times as large. Seonghwa looks at you with big, innocent and worried eyes. So genuinely and truly concerned for you. San’s expression is not as gentle, but it is equally as confused. He watches you with bewilderment, it does not appear to cross his mind that you have done something to wrong them.

Which is why you cannot bring yourself to speak, to tell them the truth of what you have done. How you have used them. How that while you will try to get the royal family in Kuroku to bring them wealth, there is no guarantee, as you are not even from their kingdom. Your name is not Yeji, you are not the girl you swore to be, the girl who they’ve grown to care about.

“A liar to the very end, huh?” Woo says, letting out a snort of disbelief. Turning away from you and towards both San and Seonghwa, his expression shifts from anger to sadness, as if realizing just how deeply this will hurt them.

Still, he is less of a coward than you are, and he does not hold himself back.

“She’s not from Kuroku,” he says plainly, one fist clenching at his side as the other points back towards you, accusatory. “She’s the Libaiyan Princess.”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows pull together, and he lets out a small laugh of confusion. “No she’s not,” he says, and from the lightness in his tone you can tell that he truly and whole-heartedly believes it.

When Woo says nothing in response, Seonghwa turns to you, as if expecting a rebuttal. A moment passes as he waits for you to deny the accusation, to exclaim that Woo is only joking, because surely he must be. Surely you would not do something so horrible, play them all as fools.

You watch the soft smile fall from his face as he realizes you are not going to.

“Yeji,” he says, followed by nothing, once again prompting you to deny it. He doesn’t want to believe it’s true, refuses to until the words come from your own mouth.

“Stop calling her that,” Woo interjects angrily. He’s not upset with Seonghwa, merely cannot stand to hear the lie fall off his tongue. “She’s not Yeji. It’s all been a lie. All of it. There’s no father in Kuroku. After all of this, there’s nothing for us. We’re as good as fucked.”

Woo whirls on you, gesturing to both himself and around him, to all those you have hurt beyond repair. “Congratulations,” he says. “You’re almost to Kuroku. I hope you got what you wanted.”

He’s storming back down the path before you can offer any sort of response, although you doubt you could have managed to say anything of value. Tears well in your eyes and fall silently down your cheeks, you cannot even bring yourself to sob. It feels as if your voice box has been hollowed out, losing even the mere ability to speak.

What could you possibly say to make it better? The answer is simple: there is nothing.

San watches you, mouth drawn into a tight line. His good eye flickers between you and the sword that rests in his hand. At first you do not understand what he’s looking at, but you soon realize that it’s the sapphire embedded in the hilt. Your mother’s sapphire.

A small, sad smile spreads over his lips. He shakes his head, as if disappointed, both in you and himself.

“Ah,” he says at the realization, setting the sword down on the ground in front of him. He gives you another glance, and you cannot understand his reaction. He does not cry, he does not scream, he does not do anything but smile sadly. “I should have known.”

He turns to run after Woo, and now it is just you and Seonghwa.

The blonde stares at you, and his face is almost blank. Lips only slightly down-turned, his eyes remain vacant. Empty.

Seonghwa is always so animated. Smile enough to brighten a room when he’s happy, teeth practically chattering when he’s worried, and eyes like broken saucers when he is sad. It is only now that you’ve ever seen him appear so hollow, and it is far more difficult to bear than the pain even his tears could bring you.

“Is it true?” He asks, and you nod.

He swallows hard, as if gulping down any and all emotion. His pain is something he’s never appeared to hide from you, vulnerability never a source of shame between the two of you. How quickly that has changed.

“How could you not tell me that?” He asks, and his tone is plain. Numb. “How could you go all this time keeping that from me?”

When you don’t respond, you can see the way his anger itches beneath his skin, bubbling up his throat as he once again gulps down more air. He wants to be angry, but he also so desperately wishes to understand. Understand how the girl he’s grown so fond of is nothing of who she truly is. “What, did you not think you could trust me like I trusted you?”

“I couldn’t take that risk, Seonghwa,” you say, almost pleading with him to understand. You hate the way he’s looking at you, eyes so vacant, as if you are a stranger. It’s unfair of you to wish otherwise, it’s true. “I couldn’t let my guard down, not with such a high reward on my head.”

“You couldn’t let your guard down but you could sleep with me,” Seonghwa interjects, and there it is. Plain, harsh, but also complete and utter fact. “Did any of that mean anything to you? Or were you just playing with my head so I wouldn’t suspect anything?”

“Of course it meant something to me, Hwa-”

“Stop,” he whispers, lips pursing together. His gaze shifts to the ground, as if he cannot bear to look at you any longer. “Guilt, regret, and desperation.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, you ask what he means through a sob. Your body finally permits you to cry, and as the tears fall your entire being shakes, from your chest to your very soul.

“That night in Stockholm, those are the emotions I took from you,” he explains, his own throat tightening as his voice becomes raspy, the words difficult to get out. “If only I knew what they were really from. I thought I was being kind, not pressing you any further, turns out I was just a fool.”

“You weren’t a fool-”

“Oh, I am,” he cuts you off, lips pursing together. He finally looks at you, and his eyes have begun to glisten, rimmed with tears he does not let fall. “I am because even now I hate to see you cry.”

He shakes his head, before turning around. When he speaks, he does not face you. “I suggest you stay here for a while, Woo will need some time to cool off. If you’re really the princess, I’m sure your business in Kuroku is a royal affair. If that means there’s a way you can get San the money, come back. If there’s not…”

He trails off, gaze drifting to your sword on the ground, he sighs. “If there’s not then don’t bother.”

Seonghwa leaves and you are alone.

The night’s darkness cascading down upon you in tune with the pouring rain, you remain on your knees, fingers digging into the mud as you clench it within your hands.

You almost wish it would come alive once more, that Woo would come back, even if it was simply to scream at you. To berate you for your lies, for what you have done. At least then he is here, and you are not alone. Even if you have destroyed everything, they are all still with you.

But he is not here. None of them are.

Minho’s words from a week prior ring in your mind like an unwelcome tune: “They will discover your lies, and it will change everything.”

A sob erupts from your throat as you know that it already has.

~~~~~~~~

next chapter.

[tavtime]

What the Harvest Hopes For

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Rating: M Chapter: 1/? Words: 6.5k Ships: Astarion/Tav, Shadowheart/Tav, Halsin/Tav, Lae'zel/Tav, Karlach/Tav, Wyll/Tav, Gale/Tav, others tba

Additional Tags: Polyamory, Novelization, Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, others tba

Summary: There is nothing like impending doom to make you realize how casually the powerful play dice with the lives of the small. Unfortunately for them, Sura Tav has decided she doesn't appreciate being used as currency, and she is no longer playing.

Read below, or on AO3

---------------

There were worse ways for terminal freefall to end. Sura was certain she should be able to find it in herself—once she recovered from the shock of being gently dropped on her head in the sand, rather than having it dashed across the beach—to appreciate that. 

It took a moment.  

At least this place felt like the material plane. Prior to today, she’d had experience with no other, but unfortunately she now found herself in a position of some expertise. The ground under her palms was crumbly sand where she pushed herself up onto hands and knees, and the light, though it made her squint, was bright midmorning sun; it held none of the sickly quality of the fires of the Hells. The slate-blue water lapping at the shore before her smelled faintly of iron, the ores of distant hills. Was she lucky enough for this be the Chionthar? Or one of its many tributaries? Gods above, where was she? 

The dizziness of falling passed. In its wake a throbbing remained in the back of her skull that was worrying, but manageable. The reek of smoke and scorched flesh focused her attention, and she looked around. Nothing was familiar. A ranger’s first steps, then: seek a vantage point, take the measure of her position and resources.  

The still-burning nautiloid loomed over and above her. The carcass of the vast gutted beast had strewn itself over the landscape in hideous tableau, limbs still twitching out their death across the rocky shore. 

From further up the beach came the sound of moaning. Her hand went to her hip. Good: she had her hunting blade, still in its sheath, as well as the pack she wore strapped across her hip. Her abductors hadn’t bothered to disarm her. Had that been simple arrogance, or something more sinister? Mind flayers fought like the aberrations they were, with tooth and tentacle and brutality. She was abruptly grateful to still have need of her knife... for however long that would last.  

The parasite behind her eye squirmed at the thought. Nausea rolled over her. She shook herself of it, and pressed on. 

Past a lump of smouldering tentacle half again her height and breadth lay a body. The half-elven woman with the long plait of black hair, who had fought so ably aboard the ship, was the source of the sounds. Caught at the edge of consciousness, her fingers still clenched tightly around her many-sided trinket. What name had she given, again? Little more than an hour had elapsed since Sura had prised her from that pod... though it felt much longer. 

Sura saw no immediate evidence of injury. She nudged the woman by the shoulder. “Shadowheart, was it? Can you hear me? Say something, if you’re able.” 

Without warning the woman sat bolt upright. Sura jerked back, one well-honed reflex away from being headbutted.  

“Whhh...” Shadowheart groaned. Her hand flew to a pack of her own at her belt. She nestled her artefact inside before buckling it closed.  

Sura extended a hand. Rather than taking it, she instead grasped Sura’s forearm, braced herself, and staggered to her feet. She took a moment to steady herself. Then she tilted her chin up, and met Sura’s eyes.  

“You survived? I... I survived? How? Did—” 

a thrumming between them. This woman’s terror, crawling behind her ribs, and crawling between Sura’s own, the fear of fire and the fall and the long long high howl of wind in her ears, the rapid approach of the ground and the promise of oblivion... and then the stop, and the sand, and then nothing—nothing—  

The channel that had opened between them clamped shut. Whether she herself was responsible, or the stranger, Sura couldn’t have said. Perhaps both. 

“—uuugh,” Shadowheart said. She shuddered. “By the Hells, that is unpleasant. We need to find a healer, and get these things out of our heads. Immediately.” 

“Agreed.” Sura spied a shield stuck into the nearby sand. She recognized it as the one Shadowheart had wielded before. Two long strides brought her to it. She tugged it free, and handed it to her. “And shelter and food, for preference. Arming ourselves wouldn’t go amiss. The bastards left me my knife, so that’s something. I don’t know how well I’ll hold up to another fight, but we can buy ourselves time to run, should the need arise.” 

Shadowheart’s mouth quirked. “Don’t sell yourself short. Back on that ship, you put a bolt between the eyes of that fiend without pausing to aim. It was... impressive.” 

Sura shrugged. It would have been more impressive if she’d been able to keep hold of her pilfered crossbow. Her blade’s bone handle was a comforting weight in her palm, and she was relieved to have it. But before she was almost anything else, she was an archer. The lack of a ranged weapon chafed. 

Farther up the coastline she could make out the scraggling edge of a forest. A ridge of terraced cliffs rose away from the water, and walking paths cut the treeline at irregular intervals to the north. Her heels itched to make for high ground, and the cover the trees would offer. It was also as likely a direction as any in which to search for help. The two of them began to pick their way along the beach, eyes alternately scanning the ground for bodies, living or dead, and the skies for threats. 

“If you see any kind of bow or bolts, pick them up,” Sura said over her shoulder. She knelt at the side of a human man’s corpse, eyes wide and glassy, seeing nothing. His pockets yielded nothing, but a travelers’ pack was half crushed beneath his weight. She rolled the body over, and stripped him of it. It proved a boon: she found a handful of gold within, a large and handsomely embossed leather drinking flask, and a wrapped loaf of hard bread. She slung it over her shoulder. “You’re trained in melee, correct? You had a mace before.” 

Shadowheart raised one eyebrow, but nodded. “Yes. I’ll take anything you can find. I can shoot as well, if I need to. And I’m no sorcerer, but I can work enough magic to tend to simple injuries. Or fight.” She knelt next to another corpse, a dwarven woman who had suffered burns all down one side of her body. Her eyes closed for a moment, and her lips moved silently. Her hand hovered over a face that might once have been beautiful, but was now little more than a twisted, molten ruin. She closed the woman’s one remaining eye. Then reality reasserted itself over piety, and her hands dug into still-intact pockets. 

They moved on. By the end of the beach they’d secured a second pack for Shadowheart, and a battered but serviceable longsword. They took it off a man who, judging by the quality of his plate, must have been a guard of some kind. Arming and provisioning themselves was one matter, but both shied from undressing the dead; the man had lived his final moments in that armor. Regardless of what other use they might have been able to put it to, their unspoken consensus was that to strip him of it was an indignity too far. 

The day had not yet quite made highsun by the time they reached the treeline. Near the shattered body of the nautiloid lay a ruin, mouldering into the hill. A temple, if what remained of the architecture was anything to go by. The forest had long since begun the slow process of digesting it with root and rot. Still, the air around the place hung heavy with remnant magic. It reached out to Sura, the taste of it almost familiar; it prickled beckoning fingers over her skin.  

Come, she thought she felt it ask of her, a whisper in her mind. Come.  

Any other day—but not this day. She turned her back on the place with regret. If she lived long enough, she might see her way to returning, but for now, her priorities had to lie elsewhere. 

Past the temple, the beach melted into steep, rocky outcroppings that marched up into the forest. Shadowheart’s eyes picked an uneasy trail up into the sundered body of the great ship. “We’ll have to turn inland. Unless you have a way to scale the cliff face you’re keen to share?” 

Sura tipped her head back, studying the cliffs. “I might make it on my own,” she replied. “Maybe. Couldn’t bring you with me.” 

“What, really?” She cast a critical eye over first the rocks, then the looming ranger. “You don’t, by chance, have a mountain goat anywhere in your ancestry?” 

A bark of laughter. “I said maybe. I might also fall to my death. That’d be at least as helpful as leaving my sole ally behind with only her complaints for company.” 

Shadowheart snorted. She turned to look at the ship again, her face somewhat less pinched. “I suppose there’s nothing for it. We’ll need to cut through.” 

“Keep an eye for anything useful... or suspicious. Drop back if you see movement.” 

“Indeed.” 

Down the facing side of the ship, a crack split the creaking hull as though it were no more substantial than torn parchment. They crept inside, blades in hand, eyes darting into corners shadowed or lit by flickering fire. Shadowheart followed at Sura's heels. She noted, with no small amount of pleasure, that her new companion watched where she stepped, and chose the same careful places to let her feet fall. 

The githyanki with their dragons had rent the ship at the seams. Overhead, the sticky, fleshy walls were torn open, a wound that showed the sky. Sense-memory came over her, all at once, unbidden and unwelcome—the rotten meat texture of those walls under her hands. The pod that entrapped her had been more maw than metal, wet and ravenous. Bile rose in the back of her throat. She bit her tongue; tasted blood. Behind her, Shadowheart gave an audible gag. Their eyes met in a moment of shared revulsion: she’d felt it, too.  

Sura forced a breath out between her teeth. She refocused her eyes on the corridor ahead and whispered, “Do you think anyone else will have made it?” 

“It’s possible?” Shadowheart likewise focused ahead, keeping her voice low, her feet moving. “I don’t know how we survived, yet here we are. If it had been just me, it might’ve...” She trailed off. Shook her head. “Whatever protected us surely did so for a reason. It may well be that we aren’t the only ones.” 

“You didn’t happen to see which way our gith friend went, by chance?” 

Shadowheart’s face regained its pinched expression; she looked as though she’d bitten into a lemon. It was, Sura mused, unexpectedly endearing. “I wouldn’t call her a friend so quickly. If she lived, it seems she’s moved on without us.” 

Sura inclined her head. “She may have done.” The githyanki had certainly been eager enough to charge forward, once she’d oriented herself to the direction “forward” lay. 

A hand on her shoulder. Sura turned to find Shadowheart pulled up short.  

“And yet you didn’t.” 

“I didn’t what?” 

“Move on. Without me.” She worried at the corner of her lip, then said, “I know it would have been easier to leave me in that pod. To leave me behind. You didn’t do that. I simply... thank you. That’s all. It means something, that you risked that for a stranger. I won’t forget it.” 

Sura nodded, once, in acknowledgement. When she didn’t offer anything further, Shadowheart resumed her place at her shoulder, and they crept forward again.  

-------------------- 

During its descent, the ship had cracked into fore and aft sections. They exited the lower section to the west, and found themselves on a wilderness trail that wound in one direction down to a rotting dock, and in the other up along a ridge that would take them through the upper portion of the ship. The fork that trailed down to the dock was short, and at the end of it they discovered a cache of fishers’ supplies—as well as the corpses of several unlucky fishers. With as much respect as possible, given the circumstances, they made quick work unburdening the dead of their possessions. 

“Poor bastards,” Sura said. She squatted at the foot of the dock. Shadowheart stood over the bodies, reciting under her breath what Sura could only assume were clerics’ rites for the departed. “How many people do you think were just... here? Wrong place, wrong time, worst day of your life?” 

“I don’t want to imagine.” She turned. “What have we got?” 

Sura sighed.  

“We’ll be able to feed ourselves tonight, at least. Another flask for water—here.” She handed it over; Shadowheart stowed it in her pack. “A pair of daggers, at least one of which might sell for a respectable price, and a handful of gold. A few odds and ends. We might beg a bargain with a half-decent healer... if we can find one.” She tapped her own bag at her hip. “Beyond that, I have a roll of cloth for bandaging. Needles and thread. Pocket whetstone. You’re welcome to any of it.” 

“And your knife.” 

Sura drew the blade from its sheath at her hip. It glinted in the afternoon sun, a long smile of silver and bone well-worn to the contours of her hand. She examined it for a moment. “And my knife. Which you aren’t—welcome to, that is to say. No offense intended.” 

She thought she felt a flicker of something like approval pass between them. Shadowheart nodded. “Noted. And understood.” 

“And you?” Sura asked. She gestured at the pouch strapped to Shadowheart’s belt. “Did you start this day with anything useful in your pockets?” 

Shadowheart’s hand hovered over the buckle that held the pouch closed. “Not—no. Nothing worth mentioning.” 

“Understood.” Sura returned her nod. Then she stood, hefting her pack onto her back once more.  

They resumed their trek up the ridgeline. The soil shifted less underfoot as they gained elevation. Shadowheart kept her place a few steps to the rear. Sura scouted ahead, eyes sharp, ears sharp. 

Twenty paces off from where the trail leveled out atop the hill, her arm shot out, barring the way. She fell back on her heels, and felt Shadowheart still behind her.  

“There’s a man,” she murmured. “Look. Side of the trail, near the bushes.” 

“I see him. What do you think? Friendly?” 

She was saved having to answer when the man turned and spotted them. He was an elf, well-groomed but clearly out of his element. He had an insalubrious pallor obvious even from this distance, though whether it was due to injury, illness, or simply his natural coloring, she couldn’t decide. He seemed to have been—washed out, somehow. Or faded. Like a painting left too long in the sun. 

“You there!” He cried. The accent was Baldurian, and oppressively upper-crust. The kind of accent that unfailingly commissioned her most illegal, most expensive jobs. He waved at her. “Over here! I need help!” 

His voice and posture betrayed no insincerity. They approached warily. Neither of them lowered their blades. 

“What do you need?” Sura asked.  

The man pointed into the underbrush. “There’s one of those brain things in there. With the legs? Horrid.” His lip curled. He shuddered. “You’re armed, and seem competent. You must kill it! Before it gets away!” 

Further in, the brush rustled. “Move back,” she muttered. She stalked past him, her feet silent on the rocks.  

One step. Two. All at once there came an undignified squeal. A boar crashed out of the underbrush, legs wheeling, wild with fear. It careened off along the trail back in the direction they had come. In her surprise she fell back half a step. It was for this reason, and this reason alone, that she saw the swing of steel an instant before it flashed toward her neck.  

On instinct, she dropped her weight onto her back heel, and sent the other foot sweeping out to kick at his knees. She had several inches of height working to her advantage, and she was muscled where he was lean. It should’ve been enough to upend him without dignity into the dirt. But he was fast —gods, he was fast. Much more so than she anticipated. And stronger than he looked; a fact that became apparent when he grappled her to the ground and pinned her, arm like an iron bar across her chest and a dagger putting dangerous pressure under her jaw. 

Sura went still. Her eyes rolled up to meet Shadowheart’s, who had dropped into a combat stance and stood frozen, watching. Sura offered her a slow blink. It was met with confusion, a stitching of eyebrows; then her brow smoothed out. She felt a push in her mind, gentler than before. Wait? Shadowheart seemed to be asking her. 

Wait.  

“Stay back,” said the man. Her eyes swiveled toward his face, as much as she was able; she saw him grinning, and not at her. She heard Shadowheart scoff. “Unless you’d like this to get messy.” 

“I need her alive,” Shadowheart snarled. “If you’d like to see messy, I’ll gladly oblige you.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he cooed. His attention refocused. “And now, my dear, if you’d be so good as to answer a few questions. Honestly, please! I’d hate to be forced to mar such beautiful skin. Nod, if you would.” 

Barely breathing, Sura nodded. 

He shifted his weight against her back. He was strong, but now that he was faced with keeping her pinned, the position was taxing for him to maintain. She thought she might be able to leverage her height advantage against him. She just needed the right moment.  

“You were on the ship, weren’t you? You and your testy companion.” 

Sura nodded. Gently, she pressed her heel into the dirt. Yes, there was leverage there. If she could just... 

“Excellent.” His voice took on a new sharpness. “Then you’re going to tell me what in the nine Hells you and those tentacled freaks have done to—” 

His arm convulsed. Distantly, she heard Shadowheart cry out. A roar and swell of pain broke behind her eyes. It overwhelmed even the sensation of the blade nicking her throat. Like a membrane rupturing, what was between them fell away: 

fear is what he lives, and consumes; fear is what he is, dark nightstalking roaming fear in the dark, restless wicked, often dull often bright, never freer than in the dark—never freer than in the dirt—daystalking stranger in the dirt and has taken—will give—will be made to give—NO  

Sura took her moment. She planted her right heel in the rocky soil and the palm of her left hand against his shoulder, and shoved. They fell apart at right angles to each other. The connection between them severed. Sura leapt to her feet and spun, knife drawn. 

The man clutched his head. His eyes clenched shut. “Gods below, what was that? I saw...” He hesitated. “I saw myself, through you. And through you, as well.” 

Shadowheart narrowed her eyes. “As we would’ve explained, given a friendlier introduction, we appear to share a common problem. We were abducted and infected with parasites, as you were.” 

The man’s eyes flickered between the two of them. Slowly, deliberately, Sura lowered her knife.  

With a flicker of wrist and blade, the man followed suit. He didn’t so much smile as smirk. She was beginning to think it might be the resting expression of his face. “So you were taken, just as I was? And here I was, ready to impale you upon the sharp end of a dreadful suspicion. It seems I must apologize.” 

“It couldn’t hurt,” Sura agreed, mildly.  

“It might,” Shadowheart muttered under her breath.  

It was as though a switch had flipped. His prior viciousness dispelled; his voice and posture were all easy charm. “My name is Astarion, and I humbly beg your forgiveness. I’ve had a rather trying day. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those monsters snatched me up. I must admit, I was not what you’d call prepared for it.” 

“I... understand that, I suppose.” 

“And isn’t it nice to be understood? Now that we’ve greeted each other in such an intimate—if, admittedly, unorthodox—fashion, might I have the honor of knowing your name?” 

“Tav.” 

“Is that a surname, or...?” 

She narrowed her eyes. She felt blood bead on the skin of her neck, seep into the high collar of her jerkin. “It’s what you can call me.” 

To his credit, he didn’t flinch. “As you like, of course. And you, my lady?” 

The answering silence stretched out for so long that Sura wondered if she might not answer at all. Eventually, though, she did. “Shadowheart.” 

“Splendid! Somehow I get the feeling it suits you quite well.” 

Sura choked on a laugh, which she surreptitiously hid behind her hand.  

“Now that we’re all on a more level footing, tell me: do you know anything about our shared conundrum?” 

“The worms are mind flayer parasites,” Shadowheart replied. She watched his face closely as she said it. “We have to find a way to be rid of them as soon as possible. Otherwise, we’re all going to... change.” 

He looked taken aback. “Change?” 

Sura nodded. “We’ll transform. Into them. Illithids.” 

Astarion’s eyes went wide with shock. Out of nowhere, he broke into laughter. It surprised her. The sound wasn’t a happy one, and it tapered off as quickly as it started.  

“Of course we will,” he sighed. “I don’t know what I expected.” 

“We’re going to find a healer, if we can. Or someone with more knowledge of these things.” Sura looked him over once more, and came to a decision. She extended a hand. “We’ll do better together until we understand what we’re dealing with. What do you think? Willing to go our way?” 

He stared at her hand for a space of seconds. Then he took it, and she noted the startling coolness of his skin, which she mentally filed away for later contemplation. He fell into step beside her, and they started up the path again. Shadowheart trailed him, still radiating suspicion. 

“Do you have any idea where we are?” 

“None, I’m afraid,” he replied. “I’m not even sure how I’m still standing, to be frank. One moment I was plummeting to what should have been an inelegant demise, and the next—the next I was flat on my back. I can’t say how it happened, although it seems to have come out in my favor just the same.” 

“There’s a lot of that going around.” 

“So I gather.” 

Shadowheart chimed in. “Before we found you, we were heading for higher ground. If the use these trails have seen is any indicator, there’s a settlement of some kind nearby. We’ve been gathering what supplies we find to hand as we go. You should do likewise.” 

Astarion considered this. “Canny. Healers with the skills we seek don’t work for free. And here I am without my coin purse. Ah, well! There’s always someone else’s to be had, if one is determined.” He grinned. 

“Do you have anything useful to hand?” Sura asked. The blood had begun to dry at her collar, and she flaked it off idly with a fingernail as she walked. “No need to ask if you’re armed.” 

His eyes tracked the movement of her hand. “Unfortunately not. I’m only lucky disaster caught me fully clothed.” 

“Aren’t we all,” Shadowheart deadpanned. 

-------------------- 

The upper segment of the ship had fared better, structurally speaking, than the lower one. Sura’s instincts told her this did not bode well. Upon finding a gap in the walls large enough to squeeze through, she was almost immediately proven correct. They had barely set foot inside when half a dozen intellect devourers swarmed down at them from an unseen hideaway somewhere far above.  

Sura’s blade minnowed through the air, quicksilver slices. While she dropped two of the putrid things, Shadowheart thrust her blade directly through a fourth. At her left elbow Astarion moved in a blur. A second dagger appeared in his hands, twin to the first, from out of Gods only knew where. The fourth and fifth brains died under his onslaught of slices in seconds. 

A cry from her right. Sura and Astarion turned as one. 

Taking advantage of the chaos, the sixth brain had skittered up the wall, and pounced. Shadowheart caught it, and it was all she could do to hold it out at arm’s length. Tentacles wormed out from it, entrapping her arms, as it tried to drag itself toward her face. 

no no no, forgive me, my Lady, not like this, please, not like this  

Sura’s knees buckled under the force of it. She was in Shadowheart’s head, again, or Shadowheart was in hers, panic icing her joints and screaming in her veins. Ghosts of tentacles wrapped her wrists. A cry that wasn’t her own echoed in her mouth. 

The moment fractured. From the corner of her eye she saw Astarion plunge a dagger deep into the meat of the brain. Sura wrenched the dying abomination free from Shadowheart’s grasp and heaved it away. It hit the wall with a grotesque squelch, and fell to the floor in a pulpy heap. 

For a moment there was only labored breath and the crackle of fire. Shadowheart picked up her sword, eyes shuttered. Sura nodded at Astarion. He raised a questioning eyebrow.  

The connection between them throbbed in her mind, luminescent in some indefinable way that had little to do with sight or tactile sensation. It called to her; compelled her to worry at it, like a loose tooth. What was it capable of, she wondered, when not pulled to the fore of her awareness under duress? And so, experimentally, she poked at it.  

Holding his gaze, she constructed a thought: well executed. She pushed it toward him along that tether, the idea of the words and the heft of emotion, the adrenaline and satisfaction of a hunt successfully shared. 

He visibly startled. His shoulders flinched in on themselves, and his knuckles whitened around the hilts of his daggers. But then he relaxed once more, with effort that she could not see written in his posture but could feel echo back along the bond between their minds. Something else followed it, too, much more deliberate: curiosity, pleasure, and a thank you. 

Maintaining the link wasn’t difficult. Just the opposite, in fact. Closing it once it had been opened felt a little like trying to swim upstream against a strong current. The parasites seemed to crave interconnection. Was that usual, for mind flayers? She supposed it must be.  

With an effort of will, she forced the link closed, and turned away from Astarion. Shadowheart had hurried on ahead, and called back to them, “Come on. I can see a way through.” 

-------------------- 

“What,” Shadowheart bit out, “is that.” 

That, as far as Sura could tell, was a problem—for somebody, anyway. Whether she should make it her problem was a question she was still weighing.  

The rock face ahead bore a waypoint sigil, of the kind commonly used by travelers in rural areas as fixed points for magical or mundane reckoning. Ordinarily these were placid, imperturbable enchantments intended to be reliable over a span of centuries. This one’s behavior, however, was anything but calm: it hissed and roiled, stray wisps of Weave swirling palpably in orbit around it. As if the sigil’s behavior weren’t enough of a deterrent for anyone with a functioning set of survival instincts, a hand and forearm protruded from its center, groping for purchase. 

Sura gave an embittered sigh. It looked like a trap.  

She shouldered the others behind her. “Hello?” she asked tentatively, keeping well back, out of reach of the hand.  

“Oh, thank the gods!” came the reply. It was a man’s voice. He echoed, as though he were calling up from the bottom of a well. “Erm, I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a predicament. I don’t suppose you could... er, give me a hand, as it were?” 

“Depends. What will you do once I pull you out of there?” 

“Nothing untoward, I assure you!” He gave a shaky laugh. In his position—whatever exactly his position was, she was a little unclear on this point—she expected she’d be none too calm, either. “I am but a traveler who has made a minor, albeit unfortunate, miscalculation. Upon my life, I swear I mean you no ill intent. Now please—help a fellow out?” 

“Do you make a habit of this kind of thing?” Astarion asked her. He was keeping well back, she noted, and offering precisely nothing in the way of help. “Intervening in the troubles of passers-by?” 

“Are you complaining that I stopped to help you when you asked?” 

His pursed lips gave no answer. He rolled his eyes. 

“Right, then.” She grabbed the outstretched palm with her own, and braced her feet. “One, two, three—oof.” 

With no great amount of grace, a man popped free of the wall. The momentum sent her sprawling back, and he landed in her lap in a mess of flailing arms and rumpled indigo cloth. They lay there, momentarily stunned, until she shoved at him and, one after the other, staggered upright.  

“Well, that was a better landing than I’d any right to hope for,” he mused. 

She raised a brow at him. 

“Ah, not that I meant—I mean, you’re quite comfortable—but that wasn’t—anyway!” His cheeks flushed, but he carried on. “Apologies. I’m Gale of Waterdeep, wizard, at your service. And you are... wait. I know you.” 

“... excuse me?” 

“Well, in a manner of speaking. You were on the ship as well! I clearly recall seeing you. You rather stand out.” 

“He’s not wrong,” Shadowheart said. “It’s the hair. Is it always that shade of copper, or...?” 

“It’s a bit more than the hair, darling,” Astarion murmured. “Have you ever seen an elf so remarkably...” He made a show of looking her over, letting his eyes travel very slowly from her feet to her head. “... statuesque?” 

Sura crossed her arms, straightened, and loomed down at him. With good posture, she had half a head on him; it was very effective. “Half-elf, thank you. If you’re quite finished.” 

He grinned. 

“Ahem,” Gale cleared his throat. “As I was saying. Since we were likewise unwilling guests of our repellent hosts, am I correct in assuming you were also treated to a most unwelcome insertion in the, er, ocular region?” 

The worm wriggled behind her eye. She grimaced. “Unfortunately.” 

“Are you aware of what fate this spells out for us, precisely? Our impending short, painful future of hideous transformation, then to become decidedly more tentacle-ridden?” 

“You seem to know a great deal about our situation.” 

“I am a man of broad studies,” he replied. “Which is why I can assure you, with some confidence, that it would behoove us to do all in our power to avert this fate. It will be... unpleasant... for us, should we fail.” 

Shadowheart stepped up beside her. “We’re looking for a healer. You don’t happen to know where we could find one?” 

Gale shook his head. “I do not. I don’t even really know where we are. But as I fell from the ship I did catch a glimpse of what looked like camp smoke—to the northeast, I believe? Hard to keep track when you’re plummeting to your demise. But it’s the only place I can think to start.” He hesitated. “I don’t suppose you’d like a helping hand in your search? Our goals are in alignment, after all. It may pay dividends to split our burden between us.” 

Underneath the verbosity, he was nervous. Sura could all but see his pulse in his throat, the dilation of his pupils. She glanced at the others. Astarion pointedly studied his nails, but he voiced no objection. Shadowheart met her eyes and nodded.  

She extended her hand to him again. He tripped over himself in his eagerness to grasp it.  

-------------------- 

Over Gale’s nattering, which had shown no sign of abating as they walked, the lack of birdsong ahead was her first clue that something was wrong. She noticed it seconds before she noticed the shouting: two strident voices raised in argument, neither of which she recognized. 

Shadowheart and Astarion heard it when she did. Shadowheart’s hand clamped onto Gale’s shoulder, and he too fell silent. “Something up ahead,” she said quietly.  

Sura strode to the front of the group once more.  

In a clearing between yawning trees, a pair of tieflings were in the midst of a spectacular row. Suspended from the sagging branches above them, Sura recognized the githyanki warrior who had earlier come to her aid. In Sura’s admittedly limited experience reading gith body language, even from where she was standing, the tension in the woman’s shoulders and fists expressed barely-restrained rage.  

“Leave it for the goblins to kill!” shouted the female tiefling to her partner, a man who might, for the resemblance between them, have been her brother. “Come on, Damays, it’s dangerous, let’s just—” 

“You heard Zorru!” he shot back. “These things slaughtered our kin without a second thought. What if it gets loose? Think, Nymessa! If it turns up at camp with a hoard of goblins at its back, what then?!” 

“You can’t seriously expect me to—oh! Hello.” 

The pair turned to face her, wary. The man—Damays—pushed himself in front of his companion. Sura ambled forward, palms open, smiling and friendly. “Well met! Were you here when that ship crashed? Hell of a thing.” 

Her tone and easy smile had the intended effect: they eased back, temporarily mollified. Damays said, “We did. It rattled our camp; we came to check it out. Found this thing”—he motioned to the cage in which the githyanki swung above them—“unconscious nearby. We’re were, ah, having a friendly disagreement about what to do next.” 

From the cage the woman’s eyes bore down at her. The parasite churned in her head. A psychic channel opened again, though this time the sensation of connection was... precise, almost elegant, done with something like confidence, or practice:  

Get me down. NOW.  

The gith woman’s voice rang through her, clear as the city bells that clanged out the dawn. Behind her, she felt more than heard her new friends flinch. They were held aloft; interconnected with, and within, each other.  

Sura pushed back. Give me a moment to get these people out of here.  

The woman fumed. Every second you waste, the parasite consumes more of us. We have no time—  

With an effort of will, Sura closed the connection. 

“I have some experience with—these creatures,” she said, crossing her arms. “Your friend is right, they’re dangerous. Leave her to me. I’ll deal with it.” 

Damays considered her. “What do you plan to do with her?” 

Sura pulled her knife from her belt, and casually began to pick at her thumbnail with the tip. She shrugged. “Friendly chat.” 

The man looked like he was on the verge of arguing, but then thought better of it. With a sigh, he said, “Better you than us, I suppose. Thanks.” 

“No problem. You should clear out while you can. That crash’ll attract scavengers soon enough, and I don’t mean animals.” 

Behind him, Nymessa tugged at her friend’s wrist. “She’s right and you know it. Come on! I won’t breathe easy until we’re back behind the walls.” 

"By way of thanks,” Gale chimed in, over her shoulder, “would you be willing to point us to this camp of yours? We’re in want of a decent healer, with all possible haste.” 

Damays nodded. “North and a bit west. It’s a druids’ grove—but be careful. We’ve had trouble with goblins on the roads. They’ve been more bloodthirsty than usual. We’ll let whoever’s at the gate know to expect you. Their healer’s name is Nettie. She should be able to see to you.” 

Sura nodded. Without another word, the tieflings turned tail and vanished into the trees. 

With their audience gone, the githyanki warrior wasted no time. “Get me out of this thing,” she hissed. She banged her palms against the side of her cage, setting it to swinging. The boughs supporting it groaned ominously.  

The group considered their options.  

“Gale,” Sura said, eyeing the cage speculatively, “that enclosure has a hinged base. Do you have a spell you can hit it with from here?” 

“My friend, I thought you’d never ask,” Gale replied. He made a show of shaking his sleeves away from his hands. “Stand back.” 

The air crackled around his outstretched hands; sparks sprang from nowhere, coalescing between his fingertips. With a soft “ignis,” the flame leapt from his outstretched palm, through the air, to the latch holding the hinged door closed. It gave immediately. The wood snapped, and shattered, and the githyanki warrior fell to the ground, snarling curses in a language Sura did not understand. 

She picked herself up and squared her shoulders. “It seems you still have hold of your better judgement. Auspicious. I am Lae’zel of K’liir. I know of the cure for the parasite, and we must hurry. You will follow me.” 

In the face of this barrage, the group pulled up short, as one. “You... know of the cure,” Astarion said, not bothering to camouflage the disbelief in his words.  

“Is your hearing addled? I said as much.” 

“And what exactly is the cure?” Sura asked.  

“We must report to a ghustil for purification. Immediately,” Lae’zel said. Her fingers flexed around the hilt of her sword, and her jaw clenched. “The longer we wait, the more of us is lost. One of those—red creatures”—she gestured in the direction of the vanished tieflings—“revealed that his kind have seen githyanki. A crèche must be near. We must find this Zorru of whom they spoke. I will have their location out of him, and then we will go and see this nightmare ended.” 

Sura scowled. “And how will you convince him to tell you that, exactly?” 

“The only way she knows how, I expect,” Shadowheart said. “Can you truly trust her so readily? She clearly has no regard for others. I suspect that will include us, the instant it is convenient.” 

Lae’zel raised her chin, and glared at Shadowheart down the bridge of her strange, small nose. “You are allies, for the moment, and so I will overlook this... slight. The surrounding environs crawl with foes. We will make better time together, and time is of the essence. Come with me. I will not make this request again.” 

“For my part, I say we go with her,” Astarion chimed in, from the back of the group. “If this healer at the grove can’t or won’t help us, I don’t believe we’ll find a better fallback plan.” 

Gale nodded, slowly. “I’m inclined to agree. Few hold more knowledge of illithids and their ways than the gith. It’s a good bet.” 

Lae’zel raised her gaze to meet Sura’s, and held it.  

“... fine,” Sura relented. “Let’s see what this grove has for us.” 

[heliopauseentertainments]

Greeting The Sun

Won runner up for fandomweekly 's challenge: 223 - Sunrise

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General Relationships: Megatron/Rodimus, Megatron/Starscream (referenced)

Characters: Rodimus, Megatron, Starscream

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Vignette, Polyamory, Established Relationships, Fluff, Not Beta Red

Summary: In which Rodimus is taken to watch the sunrise in the Sonic Canyons.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth | fandomweekly entry

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes. Related to: A Bouquet of Firecrackers

Rodimus yawned, groggily stretching his limbs.

The world felt like it was swaying around him, periodically jolting him upward. He was held up by something warm, resting in some kind of gap. The distinctive, acrid smells of gun oil and brittle iron told him was probably being carried by Megatron, most likely wedged into the gap formed by the much larger mech’s barrel.

This was probably fine.

Rodimus kept his optics off. If it were important, he’d know about it. It would feel like Megatron was running rather than… whatever unhurried movement this was. The normally soft scraping sounds of a metal hand gripping rock bounced oddly loudly around him—It was probably just his imagination.

Yawning again, he let his limbs hang limp as the repetitive motion gently lulled him back into recharge.

Unfortunately, just as he was really dozing off, the swaying stopped.

“You’re late.”

Nearby, he heard a scoff, one that could only belong to the other denizen of the home he shared with Megatron, one that he could really do without. He could also do without the scoff echoing somewhere behind and below him.

Starscream’s sharp words still reverberated underneath the echoing scoff.

It was dreamlike.

Rodimus must have still been dreaming.

Starscream continued, “You would have gotten here sooner if you weren’t hauling that dead weight around.”

“Not everyone can fly, Starscream. It would have taken me the exact same amount of time—“ Rodimus stopped listening.

Another yawn and a poorly balanced stretch had him flopping from where he had been draped over Megatron’s shoulder.

Rodimus gave a startled yelp as he suddenly impacted a stony surface. The nearby bickering stopped immediately. He could practically feel the weight of two pairs of red optics settling on his back: one pair in worry, the other in cruel hope.

He didn’t notice any pain, so he must not have been injured by the fall, but, if he could believe his optics, such luck had been a very near thing.

A dark canyon stretched out before him in the dim, predawn light. His hands grasped at the edge of what was a sheer cliff… that Megatron must have just scaled.

Rodimus gaped at the drop far below, beyond where he could see. Megatron must have managed to scoop him up out berth at some point hours ago without waking him.

That begged an obvious question.

Why… were they here? In the middle of nowhere, before the day had even gotten started no less.

No, maybe it wasn’t nowhere—He could hear the wind, the noise of even a soft breeze amplified as it was channeled through the canyons.

With the war having ended all industry here, Rodimus hadn’t recognized the Sonic Canyons without the trademark cacophony that used to fill the air here. The landscape was empty, save for shadows reminiscent of old cranes peeking up over plateaus in the distance.

Distracted by his wondering, Rodimus didn’t notice the creaking of joints, even with the echoes, until Megatron’s hands were on his flanks, gently checking him over for injuries.

Rodimus turned over and pushed himself to his feet, breaking Megatron’s grip. The edge of the cliff loomed a little too close for his comfort.

“Megs, what are we—“

He was shushed. Even the shushing noise was carried away into the canyons below, right along with his interrupted question. The sounds of Starscream’s earlier scoff still echoed weakly, slowly fading along with the din of the bickering that had come shortly after it.

A big hand gingerly nudged him further away from the cliff’s ledge, back towards where Starscream stood several steps away, frowning with his arms crossed, wings held high in aggravation.

Megatron’s voice dropped to a whisper, a rare occurrence given his general enthusiasm for being the loudest mech in any given room, as though he were trying to avoid adding to the mess of interwoven echoes bandying between the sheer faces of the cliffs behind them.

“Hurry or we’ll miss it.”

“Miss what?” Rodimus forgot to check his volume control, the question scattering to the winds as Starscream cringed away from the noise.

Megatron just shook his head, grabbing Rodimus by the middle and turning him around to face the canyons and their brightening halo of sky.

“The summer solstice sunrise, of course.”

The morning where their homeworld’s star would shine for the longest in the sky. And they would be here to greet it on its special day.

The arrival of the sun was heralded by the distant shrieks of technohawks calling in the depths of the canyons as they began to hunt.

A bright point of yellow began to burn just beyond the most distant plateau, a growing halo of glowing orange and feathering reds reached into the dark blues and purples of darkness, pushing back the blanket of night.

A view worth being hauled up a cliff for.

[septicrodent]

Nine People You'd Like to Know Better

Tagged by @thana-topsy (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

3 Ships

1. Saath Fevador/Erandur/Ralis Sedarys/Revyn Sadri - Boy am I starting strong with polyamory (anyone else seen this in the elder scrolls fandom? What am I saying, there's loads.) This ship consumed my every waking moment. I NEED to get their stories written. (And it's a long one, too.) Although the group isn't all madly in love (Revyn and Ralis I'm looking at you two) they've all got someone up their ass one way or another.

2. Neloth/Talvas - guys can you tell I have a young man/older man thing going on here? Do I need help? These two don't consume much of my mind but they do consume my... er... art gallery... Oops.

3. Ulfric stormcloak/galmar stone-fist - fight me. They're in love. I can *smell* it all the way from Windhelm's gates.

First ship

Omg honestly I can only take a wild guess and say phone guy X fritz smith (fnaf) 💀💀💀

currently reading

Flipping between skyrim's histories, glass houses and tales of Magnus and prime

Last film

I actually can't remember, I rarely watch films.

Currently craving

I crave many things. Boba tea, baked potatoes, and uh... old men

I tag: @marsupialcreations @kafeicik @apollinariafh @snowy-weather @sheirukitriesfandom @thedragonandthesnake-comic @the-sunlit-earth @weirdisme (I think you might have already posted this I forgor)

[piedpiperslists]

JJK: Soulmates AU

List of all Jungkook fics under 'Soulmates' AU:

* ² - two shots s - contains smut

* Last updated: 18/02/2024

D R A B B L E S

[drabble] by 1kook friends to lovers Summary: Your soulmate smells like your favorite food and Jungkook is too dumb to make the connection.

[drabble] by kidguk Summary: “I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again.”

[drabble] by kidguk Summary: Good love will find me.

[drabble] by kidguk reincarnation au Summary: You’ve got a pocketful of reasons why (you’re here tonight).

Heartbeat by serinic angst Summary: A world where you can hear your soulmate's heartbeat.

“I’ll wait.” by seoulnotes princess!reader, reincarnation au

Is It Just A Dream? by tinylint strangers to lovers, idol au Summary: Jungkook keeps seeing a face in his dreams - but does he believe in soulmates?

Lost (Myself) & Found (You) by taephilia Summary: Based off of 'Kimi No Na Wa'.

* Mine by sugaurora angst, dragon!Jungkook Summary: Though you may fight against the inescapable bond between you and your mate Jungkook, it’s only as the lights are leaving your eyes that you realize: you truly never want to be without him.

O N E S H O T S

All’s Fair by kimvtae s wc~13k / ft KTH, boyfriend!Taehyung, college au, polyamory au Summary: They say soul mates get their marks on the same day, and you’ve been dating Taehyung for almost four years now, but it isn’t his name that shows up on your wrist. It’s Jeon Jungkook’s, also known as your least favorite person in the world.

Dumb Pink Bunny (I Love You So) by jinjikook wc~8k / strangers to lovers Summary: When you awoke with a mysterious tattoo on your side, you had to figure out where it came from. Unfortunately, life had other plans for you as you were forced to put the hunt on hold to work your day job. Luckily, fate has something in store for you while you’re there.

Falling by starshapedkookie s wc~31.4k / college au Summary: soulmate (noun): a person who is bound to another through the strongest level of emotional and physical connection. one is given a name on the body upon 18 years of age and any transgressions against the laws of soul-bonding will not occur without harm.

Habits of a Broken Heart by softykooky wc~26.3k / art student!Jungkook, English student!reader, subtle enemies to lovers Summary: Jungkook and you are soulmates. So says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. However, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. Alternatively, “you still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “but I was stupid to think that I am too.”

How Long Will We Fall by jiminrings wc~14k / friends to lovers Summary: If it’s fate, it should already be set onto your skin — that’s why Jungkook’s initials are already on your finger. He’s always there for you, but not only for you. If you’re his fate, he’d rather not have it. Alternatively, Jungkook’s your soulmate, but he doesn’t want to be.

Moonlight by yeoldontknow wc~7.8k / friends to lovers Summary: You’ve been friends with Jungkook all your life, curious about one another’s soulmates in youth only to be jaded by the thought in adulthood. Eventually, you realize you’ve loved him through and beyond the idea, and decide that fate doesn’t get a say in who you choose.

Mountebank by kidguk wc~3.5k Summary: Soulmate AU featuring Jimin, in which you’ve been waking up next to your soul-enemy and running from your soul-mate. Figure that mess out, will you?

The Lucky Ones by today-we-will-survive wc~19k / university au

When Two Worlds Crash Together by army-author wc~2.6k / angst, parallel universes au

Written in the Stars by jcwriting wc~10.4k / werewolf au Summary: Being soulmates with a werewolf? Pretty easy. Being Jungkook’s soulmate? The easiest thing in the world. There’s only one teensy tiny problem. He doesn’t want to fuck you.

T W O S H O T S / S E R I E S

Make You Mine ² by colormepurplex2 s enemies to lovers, A/B/O au Summary: Alphas might rule the world, but Jungkook finds himself being ruled by the need to make you his.Omegas are rare, precious, and pliant. At least, most are. When you present late, well into your twenties, you’re already set in your headstrong ways; a challenge even for a commanding alpha like Jungkook. Add to that the centuries-long feud between your families and the last thing anyone expected was for him to claim you as his soulmate.

Redefining Destiny by threeletterslife enemies to lovers Summary: You were convinced you were in love with him. A former member of the mafia in the states, that is. It was true love. Destiny. Until one day you wake up with a memory lapse; then that love is replaced with hatred. The thought of marriage is substituted with revenge. If your love with Jeon Jungkook really was destiny, you’d fall head over heels in love again. But if only he weren’t such a hot, goading asshole.