#will be thinking about this until further notice

[fatherbrat]

SESSION ONE: TOUCH & SHUSH, S. GOJO

sum. part 1 of the lessons learned series. you have a hard time concentrating during the final thirty minutes of your first tutoring session. not to worry! your new tutor knows just how to keep your attention.

feat. satoru gojo

cw. tutor!gojo, fem reader, physics/math/calculus mentions, fingering in public (the campus library), hold the moan, mdni

wc. 2.4k

You’ve been trying to beat Satoru Gojo for three years.

It started in high school, when he snuck past you on the class rankings during the first semester of your final year, stealing that valedictorian title right from under your nose. You hadn’t even known to be looking out for him. His GPA seemed to have shot up out of nowhere.

It felt like someone had knocked you off a winding staircase just as you were about to reach the top.

Even now, in your third year of university, you have yet to best him. You weren’t aware that Gojo was going to the same school as you after high school, but it felt like the universe was giving you a chance to seek a little revenge.

However, with less than four semesters until graduation, it’s looking like you’ll be second fiddle to Gojo for the rest of your life. There isn’t even a word that can convey how fucking humiliating that is for you. Your friends think it’s dramatic of you to say you’d rather die, but you’ve never been more serious about anything else in your whole life.

It’s a nearly failed physics exam that ends up being your final straw. Well, “nearly failed” is a bit of an exaggeration. You got a B. But B’s don’t beat Satoru Gojo. It’s that thought that makes you finally sign up for a one-on-one tutoring session—one of the pricier ones that all but guarantees you’ll get perfect grades for the rest of the semester.

You fidget in your seat, glancing towards the library entrance every time someone enters. The table you picked is on the second floor, tucked away in a corner with a perfect view of the double doors downstairs.

It’s not very quiet. You would have preferred a session at a time when the library was a bit more deserted, but the only appointment slots available were during peak hours. Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Your fingers toy with the corners of your exam—four pages of questions and too many markings made with red ink. They freeze when a familiar somebody enters the building, his eyes scanning the first floor like he’s looking for someone.

Satoru Gojo is wearing gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He tugs his wired earbuds out of his ears and pushes his sunglasses up onto his head as he stands and searches.

You sink into your seat, not wanting him to notice you. It’s bad enough you have to pay someone to help you beat him. You don’t need the added shame of your rival knowing how far you're going just to outdo him.

But it’s almost like that very movement alerts him to your presence. His head jerks up suddenly and he finds you, peering through the railing with those scary blue eyes. A crooked grin stretches across his face and he immediately rushes up the staircase, skipping steps on his way up. 

You sink further, hoping he doesn’t come straight to you. But of course, he does. 

Gojo puts his hands on the opposite end of your table, his knees hitting the modesty panel that hangs down.

“Hey you,” he says, all too familiar, acting like you’re longtime friends. “Whatcha doin’?”

You motion towards the spread of study materials on the table. “What does it look like?”

“Well, it looks like you’re just studying. But from down there–” he juts his chin in the direction of the front door downstairs–“it looked like you were waiting for someone.”

You frown, fingers pattering along the bottom of your graded exam. “I’m not waiting for anything. I’m studying.”

Gojo comes around to your side of the table and sits next to you, dumping his bag onto the surface. “You sure? I thought we had an appointment.” He holds his phone up in front of his face and squints at it. Your stomach drops. “You said you needed help in physics. Specifically…electromagnetism?” He puts his phone on the table, smiling. “Or was that not you?”

You put your head in your hands, cursing the universe for giving you the worst luck in the world. Of course, he gets assigned to be your tutor. You didn’t even know he was tutoring. 

“There’s no fucking way,” you mumble into your palms.

Gojo tilts his head and pokes your arm. “Is something wrong?”

You take in one deep breath. And then another. And then lay your hands flat on the table.

“You’re my tutor?” you ask.

“Sure am,” Gojo says, putting his arm on the back of your chair.

You groan and your phone vibrates. You’ve just unlocked your phone when Gojo plucks it out of your hands. 

“We only have an hour and a half,” he says, before his eyes catch the words on the screen and he smirks. You wince and reach across him, but those long limbs keep you at bay as he scrolls through the new messages in your group chat.

“Baddie baddie shot o’clock,” he mutters, reading the name of the group off the top of the screen.

“Give that back,” you say, smacking his arm. He just keeps reading.

You know the last few messages you sent were about him. And you know any conversation about him always ends up…kind of thirsty. (You’re not blind! He may be a pain in your ass but he’s also fine as hell.) Whatever he’s reading must be stroking his ego.

You watch him put your phone on do not disturb and then lay it down on the opposite end of the table, out of arm’s reach. When he turns to look at you he’s got his eyebrows raised.

“You and your friends are funny,” he says, obviously trying not to laugh. 

You sigh and wave your test in the air. “Just help me with this.”

Gojo shifts into teaching mode, still looking vaguely amused, but offering notes and corrections on your exam and the notes you’ve taken yourself. It surprises you how good he is at this. That air of cockiness is still there, but he’s genuinely helpful. It surprises you further when he pulls out a practice sheet.

“You’re struggling with this because you don’t have a good grasp on vector calculus,” he says, tapping on the worksheet with the end of his pen. 

You groan. He’s right, but no amount of office hours or YouTube videos have helped. This was your last hope.

But the two of you have already been at it for an hour and your focus is dwindling. Your mind wanders, wondering what your friends are talking about, what’s happening on your Twitter timeline, what you should get for dinner. Your fingers twitch and you glance at your phone, face-down on Gojo’s side of the table.

He pockets it, shaking his head a little. “Don’t tell me you're getting restless already.” He makes a big show of extending his arm so that his sleeve moves up a little, exposing his watch. “We only have half an hour left.” He pokes your temple. “You can make it.”

A heavy sigh escapes you, but you refocus on the paper in front of you. Gojo grabs one of the legs of your chair and pulls you closer to him, until your seat clangs against his and he can lean over your shoulder. 

You stare at the top of the page until your eyes unfocus. Would it be rude to end the session early? You’d hate to not get your money’s worth, but God this stuff was so mind-numbing. You look around the library, leg bouncing.

Gojo’s hand lands on your thigh and you pause.

When you glance at him he just taps the paper. “Focus. Vector fields first.”

You blink and get back to your worksheet, not moving his hand.

He starts circling his thumb on your skin. “Vector fields are just functions,” he explains, pointing at a formula written in bold at the top of the page. “Look, there’s an example.”

You scan the example graph and the explanation below it, striving to absorb the information. Gojo’s hand shifts higher, his fingers slipping just beneath the hem of your skirt. When you raise your eyebrow at him, he just stares right back.

“I read your texts,” he reminds you.

You try to recall exactly what you said in there. Something nasty about him, for sure. You eye the ceiling, trying to remember.

Gojo squeezes your leg, drawing your attention back. “I’ll give you a phone break if you can answer the first two without help.”

You yearn for your phone, so you nod and pick up your pencil.

It doesn’t take you long to finish the questions, but you think Gojo spends longer than necessary reviewing your work. 

He pulls your phone out of his pocket and you practically leap into his lap for it. 

You’re fully occupied with catching up and responding to messages until he tucks his hand into the waistband of your skirt. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, still tapping away.

You know what he’s doing. The first thing you did when you got your phone back was check which texts he read. 

you #that man just walked in

Thing 1 what if he’s ur tutor lolll

you i’ll jump off the roof rn

Thing Two shiiii he can teach ME show me how to ride that dick sir!

you ur nasty

Thing 1 you literally sent us a message abt his bulge yesterday

you … touché

Gojo hums. “You can tell me to stop.”

You don’t. You spread your knees further apart so he can have better access and do a quick sweep of the floor with your eyes. The two of you are in a corner and there’s a modesty panel on the table, but still…

“Relax,” he whispers, his lips just brushing your ear. “Nobody’s gonna see. Just act natural.”

It’s hard to “act natural” when someone’s hand is between your legs in a crowded library, but you try your best. Your phone vibrates in your hand and you resume scrolling. Gojo pinches your clit through your underwear.

You toss him a hard glare and he deliberately avoids eye contact, looking up and around and acting oblivious.

“Break time’s over,” he says suddenly, pulling your panties to the side at the same time.

“Wha-”

“Fifteen minutes left of your session,” he says, sliding one long finger inside your cunt. “Let’s make it count.”

Your brain stutters. Make what count? There’s no way he expects you to pay attention to any kind of lesson while he’s doing…that.

“You okay?” he asks, slowly dragging his finger out of your pussy only to add another one. He points at the bottom of your worksheet with his free hand. “One more of these and then we can review line integrals.”

This guy’s fucking insane.

You shift a bit, sitting up in your seat to concentrate on the task at hand. Gojo takes your phone again, but you hardly notice. 

When you complete the problem he makes a sound of approval and takes out another worksheet. “See it’s not that bad. Line integrals now.”

He points at a figure in the middle of the page as he stuffs a third finger up your already-full cunt. “Line integrals are used to calculate the work done by a force on a moving object. But if you take this curved line and-”

Everything he’s saying is going in one ear and out the other. You’re nodding along, trying to look composed and natural as he fingers you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you have to resist the urge to shut your eyes.

“It’s just like line integration in scalar fields,” Gojo continues. He sounds excited. You’d like to think it’s because he really likes this advanced calculus, but it’s probably just because he can tell you’re getting close.

He presses the pad of his thumb onto your clit and a full-body shudder rolls through you. He smiles wide, still lecturing. You exhale gently, careful to not let a moan slip as you grip the edge of the table.

He stops talking in the middle of a sentence about arc length, but his fingers never slow. You watch as he checks the time and frowns. 

“Oh no,” he murmurs, sounding disappointed. He turns to face you, taking in your widened eyes and barely parted lips. “Our hour and a half is over.” He pouts. “I’ll finish up, mkay.”

He thumbs your clit again, increasing the speed of his fingers. “Here,” he says, leaning into you. “Bite my shoulder when you come. And try not to make any noise, yeah?”

He’s so conceited, you think. But before you can say something snarky, he buries his fingers knuckles-deep again, pressing them up against that spot inside you that makes you clamp down on his shoulder, tears pricking your eyes as your orgasm hits you harder than expected.

It takes all your effort to hold back your moans as you pulse around Gojo’s fingers. He chuckles a little, letting you catch your breath before he pulls his hand away. You stop biting him and slouch in your seat, reaching down to readjust your skirt and underwear in a way that’s subtle.

Gojo sucks your slick off of his hands, releasing each finger from his mouth with a pop sound. You scrunch up your nose at him, irked at the unnecessary noise. You exerted so much energy to stay silent and here he goes.

“So we’re done?” you ask, blinking away the tears that formed when you came.

“Yep,” he answers, nodding. “Just finish up those worksheets before next week and make sure you take notes in class. I’ll make sure you’re all set for midterms.” He winks.

You start to put your things away, closing your laptop and notebooks.

“By the way,” Gojo says, standing up, “this has been my favorite tutoring session I’ve done so far.”

You just roll your eyes, the smallest of smiles tugging on your lips. 

He places your phone on the table and swings his backpack over his shoulder. “And see if you can reserve one of the private study rooms for next time.”

He pins you with a knowing look before spinning around, long legs striding towards the staircase.

If you know tutoring went like this, you would have signed up sooner.

a/n. all the physics math stuff i got from the uc berkeley website and khan academy so...thanks to them lmfao. (or yk, blame them if it's wrong)

taglist. @megumisthirdog @chaccomiya @hellokittyish @ash--007 @gojoakgae @bunnisthings @ourfinalisation @levislug @inlove-maze @tobiodoll @iwaizumisloverrr @kentogetsmewetter @newdruid @cocoamide @y34rnf0rcc @missthatgirl @shutuppeter @skyshadowsworld @usbrous @cherryredribbons @lolitamermaid123 @kinnimi @aerareads @billiondollarworth @sillymortalblob @vadiatree @kachntos @www-sanrioslut-com you must have an age indicator in your bio to be added to the taglist

[reilemon]

🌹Surrender❄️

♡︎ synopsis: Sylus and Zayne show you that you can't get away with lying.

♡︎ pairing: Sylus x fem!reader x Zayne

♡︎ tags: barely any plot, mfm dynamic, oral (both male and female receiving), orgasm denial, dvp

♡︎ word count: 5.5k

♡︎ a/n: this fic is part of the Secret Santa Fic Exchange event made by @nanamiscocksleeve and I wrote for @laddelulu30 . It was challenging ngl, but I had fun and I hope you'll like it!

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping. divider by @anitalenia

The car hums softly, the tension inside it palpable. Zayne’s hands grip the wheel, his hazel green eyes fixed on the road ahead, occasionally glancing into the rearview mirror. In the back seat, Sylus sits with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You sit beside him, looking out the window, twisting the damp hem of your shirt as you can feel Sylus’ glare on you.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Zayne’s calm voice breaks the silence.

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your lap. “It wasn’t planned,” you mumble. “My friend called last minute... I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

Sylus shifts beside you, leaning closer. “You didn’t think lying about being at a coffee shop might be a big deal? Or leaving your location on so I’d find out anyway?”

You stiffen, guilt tightening your throat. “I thought both of you were busy and it was just easier that way.”

Sylus scoffs. “Easier? For who? You, sneaking out? Or us, finding out you’re not in your apartment like we thought?”

“Sylus,” Zayne interjects, his eyes flick to the mirror, catching yours. “This isn’t about the coffee shop, or even going out. It’s about trust. We can’t keep you safe if we don’t know where you are.”

The word trust stings more than Sylus’ sharper tone. Your fingers clench tighter around your sleeve, twisting the fabric until it wrinkles under your grip. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything,” you say with a lump in your throat. “My friend needed me tonight. She just got out of a bad relationship, and wanted to go out.”

Sylus presses further. “And when it got dangerous? What then? You knew enough to text me—why not just tell me the truth from the start?”

Zayne’s grip on the wheel tightens. “Do you know what went through my head when Sylus told me you weren’t home?” he asks, his voice quieter now. “When I saw where you were? You’re lucky we got there in time.”

Your throat tightens, and you glance out the window as you mumble, “I didn’t think it’d turn into such a mess.”

Zayne exhales slowly, and you can see Sylus in the corner of your eye shaking his head. You know you’re in the wrong and that you made a few stupid decisions tonight, but your pride is not letting you admit it.

The car slows to a stop at a drive-thru, and you hear Sylus grumbling under his breath.

“This place again?”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips when you catch Zayne roll his eyes before answering. “Yes, it’s the only nearby place that works at this hour.”

Sylus sighs dramatically but complies, rattling off an order as though it’s beneath him.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The apartment greets you with its familiar scent and warmth. What also greets you is pieces of clothing and makeup scattered around the living room. You’re sure your boyfriends noticed the mess, but you’re surprised no one made a single comment as they made their way to the kitchen. You take off your shoes and join them. 

Sylus places the bag of food onto the table, his gaze flicking toward you. “Are those the new jeans?” he asks. 

Caught off guard, you glance down at yourself, smoothing your hands over the denim. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Told you they’d look good,” he says, leaning back against the table, his arms crossing over his chest. The way he says it makes your cheeks warm. 

Before you can respond, Zayne’s voice cuts in, giving you the same compliment. He steps closer, his eyes softening as they glance over you. Tonight, their attention makes you more flustered than usual, so you thank them, your cheeks burning, and you busy yourself with helping Zayne unpack the food.

The three of you engage in small talk as you eat the late-night meal, the earlier tension from the car ride dissipating with each bite. Despite his complaints, Sylus cleans his plate with the efficiency of someone who secretly enjoyed it.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Remnants of the day washed away after the shower, the three of you settle on the sofa to watch a movie. Zayne and you slipped into pajamas while Sylus put on a shirt and sweatpants he kept in your apartment. As you sink into the sofa, the warmth of their presence surrounds you. You cover yourself with a blanket, nestling into the space between them. Sylus leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to send a small shiver through you. “Comfortable?” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

You nod, your cheeks warming as Zayne reaches for your hand. His touch is light as he lifts it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “It’s been a long night,” he says quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “You should try to relax.”

The tenderness of each gesture dissolves a little more of the tension lingering from the car ride. For a moment, it feels like the night’s events have been smoothed over.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The blanket draped across your legs is warm, wrapping you in comfort as the faint scent of soap and shampoo lingers from the showers. You stretch out slowly, eyes still on the tv as you move to rest your head on Sylus’ lap. His hand rests on your head, the light touch of his fingers soothing. Your legs find their place on Zayne’s lap, his strong hands moving to cradle your feet. When his fingers press gently into your arches, eliciting a soft sigh from your lips. The way his thumbs knead into your soles sends tiny ripples of relief through your body. Sylus’ fingers gently massage your temple, while Zayne’s hands work slowly over your calves. For a moment, you’re content to lie there, letting their attention wash over you.

But your hand starts to wander.

It traces along the fabric of his sweatpants as you brush over the firm muscle of his thigh before your palm settles over his crotch. Sylus chuckles, and you feel his body tense slightly under your touch. His hand stills as he glances down at you. “You sure you’re not tired?”

You nuzzle against his thigh, “I’m sure,” you say softly.

Sylus’ gaze flicks past you, meeting Zayne’s over your head, the exchange passing in an instant.

You shift onto your back, blissfully clueless, the warmth of the blanket replaced by the cool air of the room as Zayne slides it away, folding it neatly onto the backrest. His hands move to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin, sending faint shivers along your body as he pulls off the piece of clothing. You draw a sharp breath as Zayne’s long fingers trace the sensitive spot between your legs, the barrier of your underwear doing little to dull the sensation. His thumb presses gently, testing your reaction.

Above you, Sylus watches your face as you’re still resting your head on his lap. His hand threads through yours, his grip steady as he lifts your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles.

Zayne’s eyes flicker down, his full attention locked on the slow movements of his fingers. The pads of his ring and middle finger press firmly against the soaked fabric of your panties, sliding back and forth at a slow pace. The pressure builds as he alternates his rhythm—pushing his fingers harder against you, dragging them in slow strokes, then pulling back just enough to make you whimper. The dampness of your arousal soaks through the thin barrier, your panties clinging to your folds.

“Fuck,” Zayne murmurs. “You’re so wet, my sweet girl. You like this that much? Being teased like the needy little brat you are?”

Heat floods your cheeks at his words, but before you can respond—his thumb circles your clit, pressing firmly enough to draw a gasp from your pretty lips. Your hips shift against his touch instinctively, desperate for more, but his movements remain infuriatingly measured.

Zayne shifts, his hands pressing against your thighs, keeping you open as his head hovers just between your legs. Your legs tremble in his hold when you feel it - the slow swipe of his tongue over the fabric. A quiet moan escapes your lips as he does it again, his tongue dragging across the sensitive spot, his saliva mixed with your slick making the fabric cling to you. Your free hand moves instinctively, fingers sliding into Zayne’s dark hair, urging him closer, urging him to give you more. His eyes flick up briefly, and then you hear Sylus’ sharp tut from above.

“Tsk, tsk. You’re not in charge here, sweetie.” Sylus’ voice is rich with mock disapproval. He reaches down, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulls your hand away from Zayne’s head with. He presses your hand above your head, holding both of your wrists in place with one hand, while Zayne’s grip on your hips tightens, making it impossible to move. His fingers press into your skin, holding you down as his tongue flicks out again, swirling slow, maddening circles over your clit. Your head tilts back against Sylus’ thigh, a frustrated sound escaping your lips as you try to shift against Zayne’s hold.

“Look at her,” Sylus muses as he watches you squirm. “So fucking needy. Isn’t that cute?”

Zayne chuckles against you, the vibrations making your toes curl. But, after a few more frustratingly dragged out swipes, he finally relents. His hold on your hips loosening just enough to slide your soaked panties to the side, the cool air kissing your exposed skin, spreading goosebumps all over your skin. His thumb brushes lightly along your folds, spreading the slickness, before his tongue is finally on you, dragging slow swipes from your entrance to your clit. Relief courses through you, your thighs trembling as the ache that’s been building finally begins to ease. His tongue moves with precision, parting your folds and swirling around your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Above you, Sylus’ ruby gaze flickers down, his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt. The fabric bunches in his hand as he lifts it higher, revealing the soft curves of your breasts, the cool air making your nipples pebble instantly. His free hand traces slow circles around one hardened peak, his thumb brushing lightly over it, teasing, before he pinches just enough to make your back arch off the sofa. Then, slowly, his hand trails up, over the side of your neck, before settling on your bottom lip. The gentle pressure makes your lips part instinctively, your tongue swirling around his finger. Sylus adds another finger, the digits sliding deeper as your lips tighten around them, coating them in saliva. Then he pulls them free and drags them down, swirling over the hardened peaks, the added slickness making you moan.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Sylus asks, his smirk widening as his fingers press harder, rolling your nipples between them.

Zayne’s lips seal around your clit with just enough suction to make you cry out. Each stroke and suck builds the pressure inside you to a breaking point, your toes curling as the pleasure coils tight in your core, threatening to snap. You’re so close—so close you can feel yourself teetering on the edge—

And then Zayne pulls back.

The loss of contact draws a frustrated, broken whimper from your lips, your hips jerking against nothing.

Zayne looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t look so surprised,” his voice calm and infuriatingly composed. “Brats don’t get to finish so easily.” His hands stay firm on your hips, keeping you still as you try to move.

Your lips part in protest, but Sylus cuts you off with a smug tut. “Ah, ah,” he smirks. “You’ll have to earn it first.” His fingers slide down, gliding over your soaked folds before delivering a sharp tap to your swollen pussy, the sudden jolt making you flinch with a yelp.

“Look at this mess,” he mutters, his voice dripping with mockery as he taps again, watching you flinch. “Needy little thing.”

His fingers glide through, your body arching into his touch in desperate need of more. But then he pulls away, leaving you trembling in frustration. His glistening fingers rise to his lips, his eyes locking onto yours as his tongue flicks out, savoring the blend of your juices and Zayne’s lingering taste. He chuckles, “You know we don’t let bad behavior slide.”

Before you can protest, Zayne’s hand slides along your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His hazel eyes meet yours, “You know we’re not angry,” Zayne says softly, as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. “But we will take our time making sure you understand.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body trembling under the weight of their attention. Frustration wells up, but so does the thrill of knowing exactly what they’re doing. Of course, they wouldn’t let you off so easily—it’s Sylus and Zayne.

Sylus releases your wrists, and before you can process the absence of his touch, Zayne reaches for your hands, pulling you upward with ease until you’re sitting on the sofa. Sylus stands up, stepping beside you as his hands hook into the waistband of his sweatpants. He tugs them down just enough to free his cock - thick, flushed with a bead of precum at the tip. Your breath catches as he strokes himself lazily, his eyes glinting when he notices your gaze drop to his length.

“Come here,” Sylus commands as he plants one foot on the floor, the other on the sofa, your mouth watering at the sight. He strokes one last time before dragging the head of his cock toward your parted lips. The salty bead of precum hits your tongue, and you can’t stop the whimper that escapes as you take him in. Sylus growls, his hand resting on the back of your head, holding you steady.

Beside you, Zayne stands up, mirroring Sylus’ stance, as he slides his pajama pants down and frees himself. He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your hand to him, curling it around his cock. He’s hot and heavy in your palm, twitching as his hand envelopes yours, his grip firm as he helps you stroke him. “Slow,” he murmurs softly. “Feel how hard you’ve made me.”

Sylus’ hips begin to move, his thrusts shallow at first, as the thick head of his cock pushes deeper past your parted lips. You hollow your cheeks, your tongue flattening beneath him, and the sharp hiss that escapes his lips goes straight to your core.

“Deeper,” Sylus growls, “I know you can take it.”

He doesn’t wait for you to adjust—his grip keeps you firmly in place as his hips roll forward, forcing his cock further down your throat. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you struggle to keep up, swallowing around the thick length stretching your throat. Spit drips from the corners of your mouth as he moves, hitting the back of your throat, making you choke with each thrust. Sylus’ movements falter for a moment, his thrusts growing erratic and then, abruptly, he pulls back. The sudden loss leaves you breathless and you look up to see his jaw clenched, his hand squeezing the flushed tip.

“Fuck,” he mutters in a shaky voice. “Almost made me finish down your throat.”

Before you can catch your breath, Zayne’s hand tilts your chin, guiding your mouth toward him, your lips parting instinctively as the head of his cock brushes against them. He presses forward, filling your mouth, his eyes locking onto yours as your tongue swirls around the tip, savoring the salty taste. A low groan escapes him, his hand resting on the back of your head as he sets a languid pace. Your jaw aches from the stretch, but the weight of him—hot and heavy against your tongue—makes you moan softly, the sound vibrating against him. Your hand finds Sylus, wrapping around his slick length as you stroke him in rhythm with Zayne’s thrusts. Sylus hisses through his teeth, his cock twitching in your grasp as he watches.

The ache between your legs becomes unbearable, your thighs pressing together in the desperate need for release. Unfortunately for you, Zayne’s sharp eyes catch the motion. Abruptly, he pulls back, his cock slipping free with a wet pop.

“No,” he says firmly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. His grip on your chin forces your gaze upward. “Spread your legs.”

You almost whimper at the tone. “But—”

“Spread them,” Zayne repeats. The authority in his voice makes your thighs part, the frustration growing as Sylus chuckles above you.

Zayne’s hand shifts, guiding your mouth back to him. His cock slides past your lips again, and this time his thrusts are faster, each movement pushing deeper until the tip hits the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes again, the sound of your gagging pulling a guttural growl from him.

“Just like that,” Zayne murmurs, his voice rough. “Take all of it.”

Beside him, Sylus’ breaths become rough and uneven as his hand tightens over yours, his hips snapping forward, drawing Zayne’s attention.

Zayne’s hand slides to the back of Sylus’ neck, pulling him forward until their faces are almost touching. His voice drops low, quiet enough that you can’t make out the words. Their whispers drip with intent, and the thought of them planning your undoing makes your pussy clench desperately, slick spilling over as your body begs to be used exactly the way they want.

Sylus’ eyes flick to Zayne’s, hazy with arousal, with a faint smirk on his lips. Zayne’s lips press to the sharp line of Sylus’ jaw, followed by teeth dragging over his skin before he bites down, rough enough to leave a mark. The sharp sting rips a guttural, feral sound from Sylus’ throat, his cock twitching in your hand, precum spilling along your fingers.

“Good,” Zayne mutters against Sylus’ jaw before he pulls back, releasing Sylus’ neck. Their eyes meet for a moment, before their full attention is back on you.

Zayne’s thrusts grow erratic, his cock hitting the back of your throat one last time before he pulls out, leaving you gasping. You barely have time to recover before Sylus’ hand grips your jaw, tilting your face toward him, but his other hand grabs at the hem of your pajama top, tugging it upward in one swift motion, leaving you bare before him.

“Open,” Sylus commands, and your mouth falls open instantly, tongue slipping out. The flushed tip of his cock presses against it, dragging across it as he smears the salty slick, before his release spills suddenly, the first hot spurt hitting your tongue. The rest paints your cheeks, dripping down your chest, and clings to your skin in messy streaks. Zayne watches, his hand gripping your wrist as you stroke him. His cock twitches violently in your grasp, and when your fingers tighten, slick with his precum, it pushes him over the edge. A sharp, choked groan escapes his lips as his hips snap forward, his release spilling over your face and breasts, mingling with Sylus’ mess.

You’re trembling, every inch of your body aching with unfulfilled need. Sylus tilts your face up with two fingers under your jaw, making you to meet his gaze.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Fucking perfect.”

Zayne’s fingers brush the corners of your tear-streaked eyes. “She is,” he agrees with a smirk.

You bite your lip as your gaze flicks between them - they’re both still hard, their cocks twitching and glistening.

Zayne moves first – he sits back on the sofa and grabs a large pillow and positions it behind him. Reclining slightly, he leans back against the cushion, his legs spreading as his cock juts upward. His hands reach for you, pulling you toward him, guiding you onto his lap and helping you recline against him. Your back presses against his chest, his warmth melting some of the tension from your muscles. His arms wrap around your waist, anchoring you to him.

“Just relax,” His voice is calm and soothing as his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

Sylus steps closer, his sharp gaze raking over your trembling form, smirk widening as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. He drags the soaked fabric down your thighs, exposing your dripping pussy to the cool air.

“Fuck,” Sylus mutters, his eyes burning as he spreads your legs, his grip firm.

Zayne’s hands glide upward, smearing the mess of their release over your chest before his fingers close around your nipples, pinching just enough to make you gasp. Then, his fingers trail downward, leaving a sticky path until they stop just above your needy core. You grab onto his veiny forearms at the first stroke of his fingers over your clit, before his fingers dip lower, gathering your slick before gripping his cock. He presses the tip to your entrance, dragging the length of his shaft through your folds, catching your clit in the motion, making your pussy flutter.

Zayne shifts beneath you, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance before nudging inside. The stretch is immediate, the delicious ache making your breath hitch as he pushes deeper, steadying your hips with firm hands. A raw, breathless moan escapes as he fills you, your head tilting back against his shoulder.

“That’s it.” Zayne whispers in your ear, his grip tightening as he holds you in place.

Every slow thrust presses against your most sensitive spots, each movement tightening the coil in your belly. Sylus watches as his hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly to match the roll of Zayne’s hips.

“Fuck,” Sylus mutters. “Look at her—dripping down to the base, and you’ve barely started.”

Zayne chuckles softly, his lips brushing your ear as his thrusts grow deeper, each one sinking to the hilt. The intensity builds with each roll of his hips, his cock filling you completely. Your moans grow louder, more desperate, the sound making Sylus’ hand quicken as he strokes himself.

“Are you ready to take me too?” Sylus asks, his voice low and teasing.

Your body freezes momentarily at the question, your pussy clenching around Zayne’s length.

“You… both?” your voice trembles. The idea intrigues you, but you’re hesitant. “I don’t know if I can - I mean – I’m not sure it’ll fit -”

Sylus’ smirk widens. “Oh, it’ll fit,” his voice is almost mocking, “You’ve been so needy tonight. This is what you’ve been begging for, isn’t it?”

Zayne nuzzles against your ear, his lips brushing your skin. “But only if you want it.”

You fall silent, your breath shallow as you process their words.  Sylus’ expression softens, his hand smoothing over your thigh as his gaze meets yours. “You can say no, darling.” he says softly.

Zayne presses a kiss just below your ear. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. You don’t have to take this any further.”

The sudden shift in their demeanor makes your chest tighten and their patience reassures you. You take a second to think. They’d never tried this before—never pushed to see if you could take them both at once. With how thick and long they both are, the idea had always seemed impossible. But tonight, the need is unbearable. You need to feel them—both of them—stretching you, breaking you, until there’s nothing left but the overwhelming sensation of them taking you completely.

You take in a shaky breath, “I want to. I’m ready.”

Zayne’s hands tighten gently around your waist, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll take care of you.”

Sylus’ teasing smirk returns. His hand grips his cock, the flushed head pressing against your stuffed entrance. Sylus’ cock nudges forward, catching your clit one, two times as he struggles to push inside. “Relax, sweetheart.” he whispers. Your legs tremble as Sylus presses forward again, the thick head of his cock pushing at your entrance again. A high-pitched whimper escapes you, as Sylus’ cock slips over your clit once more before the head finally begins to ease inside. Sylus moves slowly each inch forcing your body to adjust to the impossible fullness. The tip finally slips fully inside, your walls clamping down tightly around both of them. The sensation is almost too much, your gasps and desperate moans filling the air as your body struggles to adjust to the impossible fullness.

“Shh,” Zayne soothes, as he presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re doing perfectly. Just breathe, my darling.”

Sylus growls, his hand gripping your thighs as he stills. “So tight. Goddamn, Zayne, you’re not leaving much room.”

Zayne chuckles softly, his voice calm but you can feel his muscles tensing. Sylus shifts his hips, his tip stretching you impossibly as he inches deeper. The new fullness is overwhelming, every nerve inside you screaming for more.

“So fucking sensitive,” Zayne teases. “I bet she’ll cum before you’re even halfway there.”

The words make you whimper, your cheeks burning as Sylus pushes further. His hands tighten on your thighs as he finally bottoms out, holding still to let you feel every throbbing inch buried inside you. The maddening stretch of having both of them makes your pussy fluttering around them, pain and pleasure blurring together. Your breath comes in ragged, broken gasps as the tension in your belly coils tighter and tighter, impossibly close to snapping. You try to roll your hips, desperate to chase the climax that is right there, but their strong hands hold you still, denying you the friction you need

“I’m so close - !” you whimper, the desperation spilling from your lips as your head tilts back against Zayne’s shoulder. “I’m gonna—please, I need to—”

Sylus smirks down at you, “Close already?” he taunts. “I haven’t even fucking started yet.”

His hips shift slightly and that is all you need to fall apart, your orgasm crashing over you with devastating force. The tightness of your walls pulls guttural groans from both men, Zayne’s breath hitching against your neck as Sylus growls above you. They hold you steady while your body trembles in the aftermath, shallow gasps leaving your lips.

Sylus’ hand digs into your thigh, the grip bruising as his other hand braces on the backrest. His cock moves with shallow thrusts, the friction making your eyes roll back.

“You’re so sensitive,” Zayne murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “I can feel you clenching every time he moves.” Sylus’ pace quickens slightly, your moans growing louder as the coil in your belly tightens impossibly fast.

“Already?” Sylus teases, as he watches you writhe.

You don’t even register the question as your orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench tightly around them both, the overwhelming tightness pulling a groan from Sylus, his hips stuttering briefly, while Zayne sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening on your waist.

But Sylus doesn’t stop. His thrusts deepen, slamming into you, the drag along your oversensitive walls pulling pathetic whimpers as your pussy tightens around him. The slick, maddening friction of their cocks sliding together, every thrust dragging a raw moan from your lips as the stretch pushes you closer to the edge. Your breath catches, your back arching as the coil snaps. Pleasure rips through you, blinding and raw, tears streaking your face. You clench around them tighter, milking them both as the aftershocks crash through you.

Zayne’s breath is hot against your ear, his chest heaving against your back as his cock throbs inside you. The tight clamp of your walls around him has him on the brink, but he holds on as his hand moves downwards from your waist.

“You’ve got one more in you, I can feel it.” he rasps.

His fingers find your swollen clit, the first touch sending a shock through your body, making your hips jerk involuntarily. “Easy,” Zayne soothes, as he presses his fingers firmly against the sensitive spot.

Sylus’ grip on your thigh is bruising as he rams deeper, his eyes locked on yours – watery and heavy-lidded. “You’re milking me—gonna pull me apart.”

Zayne’s breath is hot against your ear, his fingers merciless on your clit, rubbing slick circles that make your hips jerk wildly. “Cum,” he rasps. “Now. Let us feel you, my love.”

Your body obeys - your walls clamp down hard, as you completely lose your voice from the overstimulation. Sylus curses, as your fluttering walls drag him deeper. His cock throbs hard before he cums, his release, hot and thick, floods you as his hips stammer. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growls, his voice breaking. In your fucked out daze you hear Zayne moan in the crook of your neck, as his hips still, burying himself to the hilt, his release hitting in heavy hot waves, mixing with Sylus’, leaving you completely full, dripping, and ruined.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, your head lolling back against Zayne’s shoulder. His lips press softly against your temple, his hands stroking your waist gently as Sylus leans over, his breaths heavy and uneven. Every inch of you feels hypersensitive, your skin slick with sweat and cum. You’re pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat, the fullness lingering even as the men stay still, both of them still buried deep inside you.

Sylus’ hand moves from your thigh, his gaze scanning your face. “Breathe for me.” he says, still breathless. His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping away the stray tears that streaked down your face. You nod weakly, your throat too dry to speak, and you focus on steadying your breath. Sylus smiles softly. “You did so good.”

Zayne’s lips press against your temple again, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “She handled it perfectly. Didn’t you, darling?”

The praise makes your cheeks flush, though you’re still too dazed to say anything. Sylus shifts first, pulling out slowly, the movement making you wince. His hand stays steady on your thigh, stroking softly for a moment before he walks away. Zayne follows a moment later, his withdrawal careful and deliberate. The sudden emptiness pulls a small whimper from your lips before Zayne’s arms tighten around you, holding you firmly against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. His hands rub soothing circles over your sides, grounding you as he shifts to sit upright, cradling you in his lap.

Sylus returns quickly with two warm damp cloths. Zayne takes one to clean your face, while Sylus kneels in front of you as he gently wipes away the mess from your thighs and belly.

Zayne murmurs against your temple. “Do you need water? Anything else?”

Your voice is faint, barely above a whisper, as you manage to say, “Just stay… both of you.”

Sylus chuckles softly. “Like we’d go anywhere,” He tosses the cloth aside and sits down on the sofa beside you, while Zayne adjusts his hold, setting you gently to sit in between them and covers your lap with the blanket. The warmth of their bodies, every soothing stroke of their hands, their quiet breaths, soothe you. Though, you can’t relax.

Their care, their unwavering attention, makes the guilt bubble up. Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. You swallow hard, your fingers clutching the blanket as you glance between them.

You take a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “For lying to you. For sneaking out.”

Zayne presses a kiss to your shoulder, his voice calm as he replies. “I’m glad you admit your mistake. We need to know where you are to keep you safe.”

Sylus’ nods as he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. “Exactly. We weren’t mad because you went out. We were upset because you didn’t tell us.”

Tears prick your eyes again, but this time they’re from relief. “I won’t do it again… I promise.”

Zayne smiles softly. “We’ll hold you to that promise.”

You nod, the exhaustion catching up to you as your body sinks further into the sofa, your eyelids heavy. But Sylus doesn’t let you rest – he stands up and takes you hand in his. “We need to wash up.”

You whine. “I don’t want too - I’m too tired.”

Sylus grumbles something before he leans down, grips your waist, and hoists you up over his shoulder. You yelp as you’re suddenly upside down, your protests turning into a mix of laughter and annoyance as you squirm in his hold.

“Sylus!” you laugh, your fists half-heartedly thudding against his back. “Put me down!”

“Not happening,” he replies smugly, his palm landing a playful smack against your bare ass.

Behind you, Zayne shakes his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he stands up, going around you two and towards the bathroom. “Take it easy, Sylus. She’s had enough for tonight.”

By the time you’re back in bed, wrapped snugly in fresh blankets, sleep takes you almost instantly, nestled between Sylus and Zayne, with your heart light.

[s6daz]

Hi hi! I love you’re writings💗

Can I request for g!p soft Sevika with breeding kink please? Maybe Sevika is bottom and reader just ride her and tease with idea to cum inside…

Thank you🫶🏻

♰ sevika x f!reader ִ ݁ ˖ ◜

cw: g!p sevika, sevika bottom (if u squint too much), breeding kink, teasing (from the reader), reader dominating the situation (?, porn without plot

note: i honestly don't remember much of what i wrote here but i saw it was for this request in my notes so... i hope it's what u asked for

they were a chaos of soft moans and groans. wet kisses, saliva spreading from the corner of their lips that almost reached their necks and gasps for air. your hands were firm in her hair as you moved your hips torturously over her clothing covered bulge, her hands gripping your hips, occasionally releasing moans into your mouth desperate for you.

you broke away from the hot kiss for a moment and gently licked her lower lip, sucking it softly before letting your teeth sink into the flesh of her dark lips: listening to the grunt and gasp that sevika let out, you felt how all the heat began to rise through your body.

"did you like that, love?" you teased with a tempting smile, subtly watching sevika reaction, who let out a heavy sigh before looking back at you.

"yes, i love it doll" she pronounced quickly no matter how begging she looked in front of you. "mhh should we level up?" you responded as your hands went down to the hem of her pants playing with them.

she simply nodded as if all her words had been swallowed, she leaned her head back to rest on the pillow, letting out soft sighs.

when you saw that sevika gave you permission, you moved a little to be able to take off her pants more easily. you grabbed the hem of them along with her boxers and slowly lowered them. your eyes widened with pleasure when you saw how sevika cock finally came out from her cage, the erect cock jumped against her stomach but you continued lowering the fabric down her toned thighs until you reached her knees.

"you look so pretty like this" you said looking at how sevika was breathing unevenly while her eyes were closed and you could notice the slight sweat running down her forehead, you laughed just thinking about how desperate she could be right now.

not hearing any words, you looked down at her penis, you could see that there were already droplets of precum near her tip. you smile when you see what you could provoke in sevika and slowly wrap the phallus in your hand, giving gentle movements up and down.

"does it feel good?" you ask, watching as sevika began to cling to the sheets, she simply moaned and nodded. “good girl…” you praise.

your hand continued making the movements from up to down, watching as her cock became increasingly wetter from the precum, your thumb went to her head, caressing it gently, causing sevika to shudder.

"did you just shiver, vika?" you muttered with some sarcasm, hearing her groan at your comment, clearly annoyed.

you had her at your mercy and that only makes you hornier, you don't want her to cum in your hand so you put her penis aside feeling how she was complaining when she no longer felt your heat on her circumference, slowly you moved to being able to take off your shorts easier.

you threw them to the side and since you didn't have panties you focused on sevika, trying to position yourself to feel how your skin was sticking to hers. you moved your hips, rubbing from one side to the other only on her tip and this only made sevika desperate further.

"damn it princess, put it in now" she speaks impatiently as she takes a look at you, you stopped the games since equal deep down you were desperate and you began to align her cock to your needy entrance watching those anxious eyes that watched all your movements while her stiff cock collided inside your wet center, making its way between your tight walls. you saw how she rolled her eyes and let out a subtle moan as she felt everything all your insides in her circumference.

her hands moved to your hips, squeezing them tightly. her reaction was so exquisite that you raised your hips and fell back down only to hear her cute moan again.

the intensity of the moment fueled your need to dominate her and explore every inch of her body, you leaned closer to her; "does it feel good?" you asked, knowing full well that she couldn't answer because of her euphoria.

you clung to her shoulders and began to push your hips, riding her so exquisitely that sevika would occasionally let out moans louder than normal, you weren't far behind either, the rhythm of your hips made you feel a thousand things; feeling sevika cock inside you touching all those exact points that led you to lose your sanity made you delirious.

"i-it feels so good vika" you gasp for air to fill your lungs suffocated by pleasure.

in her first attempt to control the situation, she began to push her hips in rhythm with yours, making your back hunch and you felt slight tears begin to threaten to come out.

"fuck..." she managed to formulate letting out a sigh, in response you squeezed your pussy around she making her let out a grunt. the intensity of the moment began to be noticed when the splash began to intensify and you could feel how sevika was throbbing inside you.

"so fucking perfect" she gasped as her flesh hand went down to your ass giving it a squeeze, you smiled when you the heard and leaned in to whisper to she; "do you want to cum inside?"

you could see how her eyes darkened just by mentioning being able to end up inside: since you never allowed her to. "get me pregnant, i'm sure you want it" you whispered, provoking her even more. "would you give me your cum, love?"

something clicked in sevika and her hands quickly grabbed onto your body, starting to thrust harder into you with a very great urgency. you grabbed onto her back, scratching the in her wake. the sound of skin against skin filled the room and you let out all the noises and complaints that you couldn't before.

"damn it... i'll leave my son inside you" she let out between gasps before feeling her climax approaching. jets of her semen filled your insides and uterus, making you collapse in her arms. for a few minutes, the only thing that could be heard in the room were her agitated breathing in search of air. they enjoyed the silence until you felt sane enough to to be able to move and want to take her cock out of you, if it weren't for the quick movement that sevika made you fall back into her chest.

"this is far from over, darling, i will fill you until i am sure you have my son."

[prodbymaui]

Eunoia. — 이민형

when it's all said and done, girl, I want you

PAIRING: mark lee x reader GENRE: unspoken feelings

WORD COUNT: 2.3k+ words

WARNINGS: finger fucking, pet names (baby, love), pool sex, exhibition kink, grinding

SYNOPSIS: it's late at night and you're yet to pull yourself out of the ocean that is your thoughts. Mark helps you out in a complexed but effective way that he knows. A/N: very self-indulgent, definitely not a scenario that came up to me in the middle of the night and stayed in my mind ever since. anyhows, enjoy reading!

The day nears the next cyle of the moon and sun, but you remain at the pool side— music resonating from your phone as you dip your feet in the pool, drinking the night away. 

You should’ve been worn out from all the fun that you had with your friends yet for some unknown reasons, sleep doesn’t come to you easily. In result, you opt grabbing one of the unfinished bottles of vodka for yourself.

The thoughts swimming in your head must’ve drowned you, considering that you didn’t hear one of the bedroom doors opening and the footsteps walking towards. It is only when someone sits next to you that you notices their presence.

Your gaze shifts from the stars to the man on your right— Mark. Your breath hitches for a moment. The messy hair and a plain white shirt paired with the dopey smile on his face is enough for you to fall in to another trance.

“What got you out here having fun all by yourself?” Mark tilts his head in question, to which you let out a soft laugh.

“Is drinking alone fun now?”

“I suppose.. ? It looks fun for me.”

Merely replying with a smile, silence engulfs the both of you. And as if on cue, your mind boggles you over trivial things once again, just like what it does since you were young.

Mark passes you a brief glance, then to the music playing on your phone.

Thoughts

Sometimes, I just can't control my thoughts

No medication's ever made them stop

All I think about is everything I'm not

Instead of everything I got

He sighs, biting his lips as he contemplates on what to do.

And it’s not Mark if he chooses the complexed but effective way.

The bubble of your thoughts pop when the water splashes at you suddenly. Surprised, you look over to Mark who’s swimming his way towards where you are seated. Just right before you, Mark comes up from the water, brushing his black undercut hair back.

His eyes meet yours. “Hi,”

“Hello,” You grin, sipping your vodka.

He walks a little bit more closer, enough for his chest to make contact with your knees. Mark smiles again, resting his hands on your knees.

“Hi,” He repeats softly.

You can’t help but chuckle. “Hello Mark,”

What is this man doing? The voices in your head asks.

“Come swim with me?”

You glance at the rippling water illuminated faintly by the moon, then back at him, standing waist-deep with a boyish grin that doesn’t quite match the hour. 

“Pass, I’m just waiting for sleep to take over my body. Besides,  you shouldn’t be swimming this late at night, Mark. You’ll catch a cold.”

Mark exhales dramatically, a mix of exasperation and amusement, before swishing the water toward you in a playful splash. It doesn’t reach, but the gesture draws a reluctant grin from you.

“Loosen up a little,” He says, his voice warm, almost teasing. “Who cares about catching a cold if it means having a bit of fun?”

You’re not quite sure how it happens. You remember saying no—firmly, even—but now the cool water laps at your legs, rising steadily until it reaches your waist. Mark’s hand is warm and steady in yours, his grip pulling you further into the pool, toward the deeper end.

“Mark,” you warn, your voice low, your fingers tightening instinctively around his. It’s not fear—nothing as dramatic as that. You can swim perfectly well, and the depth of the water doesn’t intimidate you. It’s just…this wasn’t supposed to be on your list for tonight.

He slows, catching the hesitation written across your face. Without a word, he stops walking, the two of you now floating in the very center of the pool. The stillness around you is palpable, broken only by the faint ripples you’ve created together.

Mark’s gaze softens as it finds yours, studying your expression carefully, reading the unspoken. Then, with a quiet assurance, he slides his arm around your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

“I’ve got you,” he says, the words low but firm, steadying you in a way that feels more solid than the water ever could.

You sigh, taking in the comfort of the moon and starts hovering above the both of you, and the comfort of Mark’s arm around you.

“What do you think Yeonjun and Wooyoung’s reaction will be if they see us like this?”

“The teasings, oh god,” The mere thought of the two troublemakers’ reactions is already enough to make Mark sigh in exasperation. 

He can practically hear their voices now—the teasing tone, the exaggerated laughter. They’ve been relentless lately, poking fun at the “odd vibe,” as they like to call it, between the two of you. Their wild imaginations have taken your every interaction and spun it into something far more dramatic, their assumptions as colorful as they are persistent.

You laugh at his response, sliding your arms to rest on his shoulders. “Why do you think they tease us so much?” Mark’s chuckle fades, leaving a quiet tension in its place. The water sways around you both, but all you can focus on is how his gaze has softened—more intent now, as if he’s waiting for something.

“They think there’s something between us,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to make the words feel weightier. His hands linger at your waist, his touch steady yet hesitant, like he’s holding back.

You swallow, your laugh from earlier now a distant echo. “And… do you think they’re right?” you ask, surprising yourself with the boldness in your voice.

Mark’s lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “Sometimes,” he admits, barely above a murmur. “It’s hard not to when they keep planting the idea in my head.”

You feel a faint warmth rising in your cheeks, though you’re not sure if it’s from his words or the way his thumb grazes your side absentmindedly. “And what does that idea look like to you?”

The shift in his expression is subtle, but it’s enough to make your heart stutter. There’s something deeper in his eyes now, something that makes the air between you feel almost fragile.

“Do you want me to show you?” he asks quietly, his voice low and steady, but there’s an edge to it—a flicker of vulnerability he can’t quite hide.

The moment stretches, the world outside the pool fading to nothing. It’s just you, Mark, and the unspoken tension swirling between you, like the water lapping at your skin.

Whether it’s you or Mark who closes the distance first doesn’t matter. All that matters now is the way his lips meet yours—soft and deliberate, moving in a rhythm that feels as though it’s been waiting to happen. The kiss deepens naturally, a slow, intoxicating exchange that carries the urgency of something long denied.

Mark’s hand slides to the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair as though anchoring you to the moment. His grip is firm but careful, a silent assurance that he won’t let go. When he feels you lean further into him, your movements mirroring his, something shifts.

With surprising ease, Mark’s other hand slips beneath your legs, lifting you as though you weigh nothing. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, securing yourself against him. The movement presses your bodies closer, the water rippling around you in lazy waves.

You can feel his breath against your skin, warm and uneven, his lips trailing softly before returning to yours. The press of his body is undeniable, a tension simmering beneath the surface, but the way he holds you—steady, deliberate—grounds the moment in something more than just desire.

Mark pulls away, breathing heavily. “I know it’s late but tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want any of this and I’ll pretend none of this happened tomorrow.”

Nonsense. You don’t even know what got him thinking like that when you’re already on cloud nine just by his kisses.

“Don’t stop,” You whisper against his ear before connecting your lips with his once again.

As your tongue fights and clashes with one another, you gasp at the feeling of Mark’s palm cupping your core. The water surrounds every part of your lower body but Mark could still feel the slimy texture of your juices on his skin.

His fingers slides along your labia, letting it explore and feel your warmth. The soothing movements of his pads strays away from your focus as Mark’s kisses travels down to your neck. Tracing your skin with his tongue, Mark licks a stripe straight to where your neck and collarbone meets. You gasp as he gives it a little kiss before sucking the skin, at the same time he enters a digit inside you.

“Mark..”

He shushes your noises yet his fingers serves absolutely nothing to help you do so. Not long after you’ve gotten used to his single digit, he enter another after another, curling them inside. Your head lols back, trapping your bottom lips between your lips.

Turning the both of you around, Mark carries your weight one arm while the other busies itself pumping inside you. In a few steps backwards, your back hits the wall of the pool causing Mark’s fingers to be buried deeper inside. Your hands fly to grab something as a leverage, eventually finding his flexing arms. The cold breeze brushing against your skin reminds you that you’re not in the privacy of your bedroom or any private space right now. And Mark uses it to his advantage, seemingly knowing well what you like despite this being the first time that he’s having a taste of you. “Haechan was awake when I left the boys’ room, you know?” he murmurs, his tone low and teasing as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His lips brush against your cheek in a series of soft, fleeting pecks, his warmth lingering with each one. “He was mumbling something about wanting a snack but being too lazy to actually get up. You know how crazy that man is about his snacks, babe.”

His voice drops to a playful whisper. “What if he decides to come out? Imagine him catching us like this—you trembling in my arms, eyes fluttering shut, your hips jerking against me like you’re trying so hard to keep quiet. One look at your hips, and he’d know exactly what’s happening, no questions asked.”

You curses at the thought of being caught. And Mark laughs. Because he knows damn well it’s not due to embarrassment nor fear. The clench of your walls on his fingers tells him so. “Wouldn’t you like that, babe? I think you would,” Curling his fingers upwards, your eyes rolls to the back of your head. “Look at you getting close at the thought of it. I wonder what’ll be his reaction.”

“Mark please,” You plead, not even knowing for what reason. “Please? I don’t know even know what you want, love.” It’s frustrating how the brutal pace of his thrusting fingers contrasts the soft and loving tone of his voice. It messes your head and inside both at the same time. “Please please, Mark—” Your eyes catches his sharp gaze in a hazy film, barely even able to open your lids to maintain eye contact. “Fuck– haah, I’m gonna come.” “Yeah?” Mark pulls you impossibly closer, grinding his prominent boner on any accessible part of you that he can reaches by merely moving his hips. “I’m gon– I wanna cum, I’m gonna cum. Shit, Mark please, baby,” You desperately cling on to him, meeting his fingers halfway as you try your best to fasten the pace despite the restrain from the water. Mark groans, silently wishing it is his cock you’re clenching around so tightly right now. How good it must feel to your warm walls massaging his length, tightening on him just right, milking him dry until he’s nothing left but an empty vessel of a man obsessed with you and your body. He presses your bodies to the wall as he grinds harder and faster, matching your pace. “Do it. Come for me,” He whispers your name in an encouraging manner. And you did just as he orders. Failing to keep your eyes open, your eyes shut close as your mouth forms a circular shape. The pleasure comes to you crashing down. Mark doesn’t know what kind of hold you have on him but he’s certain it is no way near surface level when he reaches his own climax just by watching you come undone in his arms. The look of you embracing the pleasure he offered is enough to send him off the edge. You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, your ragged breaths mingling with his as you try to steady yourself. The aftershocks still linger, leaving your body heavy and your mind hazy, but the comforting rise and fall of his chest anchors you. Both of you silently agree to stay like this for a moment, letting the sound of the pool water gently lapping around you fill the quiet. It feels like time has paused, a brief reprieve from everything outside this bubble of warmth.

But fate, as always, has other plans.

A slow, deliberate clap breaks the stillness, immediately snapping your attention toward its source. The sound is followed by a low whistle that cuts through the air like a taunt.

“Well, that was one hell of a show,” comes the familiar voice, dripping with mock amusement.

Your head snaps up, and there he is—Haechan, leaning casually against the doorframe of the boys’ room, arms crossed and that trademark cocky smirk plastered across his face. His expression, equal parts smug and entertained, makes your stomach drop.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Something very strange happened, and I think we need to have a talk about the way some people who don't know about Catalan culture misrepresent the Tió (our pre-Christian Christmas present-bringer, a log who poops presents 🪵🎁).

I have a relative who is a teacher in an adult school, she teaches Catalan language (mostly to immigrants). Some days ago, they were doing an activity about Catalan holidays, and two of her students said that Tió should be banned and that it's the worst thing they have ever heard. My relative was very shocked and asked why they could say such a thing (imagine, it's like saying Santa Claus should be banned in the USA). Their reasoning was that they completely misunderstood everything about it. These people are native Spanish speakers and assumed that the Catalan word "tió" (meaning "log" 🪵) means the same as the Spanish word "tío" (meaning "uncle"), even though both words are pronounced differently. They believed that the Tió represents a man and that we tell children to beat people up, so much until they poop themselves, threatening them to give us things. They said it promotes violence to children and that it's disgusting. Nothing further from the truth.

This is not an isolated incident because a few days ago I saw a post on Tumblr repeating this same mistake. I texted the person who posted it saying that it's not called "Poop Uncle" but "Christmas Log" and they said that this was what they were taught by their teacher (this person is from a different continent), and haven't taken down the post. I have also seen comments on Instagram repeating the same and making fun of how gross and violent it is.

The real meaning of Tió

The Log is a way of symbolically passing down our relation with nature. This is how the tradition works:

In early December, we get a log and bring him home. We take care of him: we keep him in a warm place, with a blanket over him, and we feed him things like orange/clementine peels and walnut shells. On Christmas day, all the family comes together. Children get wooden sticks and go get ready in another room, meanwhile adults place presents under the Log's blanket. Children come back and hit the Log while singing a song. There are many local variants of the song but they all come down to asking the Log to poop us good food. When they have finished singing the song, the children remove the blanket and discover the presents that the Log has pooped. Years ago (now this is only done by some farmer families in rural areas, but back in the day this was generalized), the Log was burned in the house's fireplace and its ashes were spread on the fields, believed to act as a magical fertilizer.

Notice what this whole "ritual" has been about: we take care of nature, nature takes care of us, we are part of a whole and there's no real difference between "nature" and "us" because we all give life to each other.

We take a log from the forest and bring it home. We do this for the Winter Solstice because it's the time of the return of light and the rebirth of nature after the winter sleep, and wood symbolizes the most important things for human life: food, warmth and light. It's difficult for us to imagine nowadays because we are used to electricity, but for our ancestors who only had oil lamps, fire and candles, darkness was almost absolute for many hours in winter, and that's why the Winter Solstice was very important because it meant that light is coming back. We want something from the Log, his fire will allow us to cook, it will give us light, and keep us warm. So we offer him the same: we feed him (notice what we feed it, too: a kind of compost, which is complimentary to human food), we keep him warm, and we love him. Then, we hit him with sticks (mimicking the motion of cutting down a tree) and ask him to give us food, and he does. Then, our ancestors used to burn him for warmth and light, and then take him back to plants spreading his ashes so it will give life to the fields. Which in turn will give us food again, which we will poop and it will fertilize plants again. And it's a cycle that never ends, we're all part of a whole.

We give to the forests, the forests can grow with the remains that all living creatures leave on its ground: leafs, excrements, the remains of parts of our food like nuts and fruit peels. These things give life to the forest. And the forest gives life to us: gives us fruits and wood (=light and warmth). We take these things, and in return we give to forests once again.

Nowadays, the part about warmth and light is often lost to kids, but the part about food is still obvious, even if subconsciously. This is why the Log is not the horrible barbaric tradition that the "haha poop and violence" crowd would make you believe.

And don't get me wrong, it can still be funny! We're the first ones to make jokes about it. And you can, too! But don't spread false ideas: the Spanish word "uncle" appears nowhere near this tradition because it doesn't have anything to do with uncles nor with Spanish-speaking cultures. It's called the Christmas Log (Tió de Nadal, Soca de Nadal, Tronca de Nadal, Tizón de Nadal, etc depending on the area, all meaning "Christmas Log") and it's celebrated by the Catalan people and a part of the Occitan and Pyrenean Aragonese people. The word "poop" (as an imperative verb, as in "please poop for us") appears in the song, but not in the name.

I know that, now that misinformation has gone viral, a post won't stop it. But I hope at least people with a genuine interest can learn some more. By all means, keep laughing! Make all the memes you want! But knowing the whole story will give you understanding. And, please, don't argue in favour of banning our cultural practises, we've had enough of that for centuries.

[tomriddleswhcre]

| Dark Tendrils of Obsession

warnings: MDNI, characters are 18+, manipulation, toxic relationship.

words: 3,773

Hogwarts Library was a haven for the wanderlusters. Seamless rows of bookshelves went on for ever towards the horizon, holding access to all the knowledge someone could want. Here you first experienced the pressure of his stare.

Tom Riddle sat a few tables away, his dark eyes never quite leaving you. There was a perfection about him, a crispness in his bearing, and a captivating draw in his mannerly grace. He was polite at first. Courteous, even. His smile, restrained yet charming, made you feel special in a way that was both intoxicating and unsettling.

“Reading about alchemy, are you?" His voice was soft on the ear, so velvety, beneath the skin easy to burrow.

You nodded, too startled to respond immediately. “Yes, just... curious about the theories.”

"They are shallow and just care about pointless activities. However," he fixed his gaze on yours and said, "You have depth."

From then on, he was constantly present. Helping you while studying, sitting on the nearby bench with you, offering assistance, and guiding you through the dim hallways. You enjoyed his company at first. Because of his intelligence, good looks, and total allure, it seemed hard to resist him.

But then, the cracks began to show.

Tom’s love became controlling. He wouldn't let you spend time with your buddies and he would retort to you in a very calm voice, "They don't know you the way I know you," each time you tried to counter him.

If you casually mentioned a friend from another place, his smile would fade. “Why spend time with someone who’s not on your level?" he’d say.

One night, you were trapped in the library. Tom, usually calm, was acting very intense, and it made you feel uneasy.

“I’ve noticed how they look at you,” he whispered, in a low and suspenseful tone. “Do you really think they care about you? That they’ll ever truly understand who you are?”

“Tom, you’re overreacting," you said, trying to move away, but he grabbed your wrist and held you there.

"I'm the only one who understands you," he said, clutching even more tightly. “The only one who ever will.”

More and more over time Tom's orchestration of your life became oppressive. Your friends started to drift away, unsure why you were changing.

“You’re imagining things," he said one night, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I only want what’s best for you. Why can’t you see that?”

His words burrowed into your mind, planting seeds of doubt. It was a smaller world, a world of shadows, and everything seemed to revolve around Tom. He was there all the time, watching, waiting, his presence a consolation and a torment.

That evening, following another and another, argument, you ended up in the Astronomy Tower, gale blowing in your face, panting and catching your breath. His load of affection, his pathos, his fixated desire was too much to bear.

“Thinking of escaping me? Tom’s voice cut through the night like a blade.

You spun around to see him standing there, his eyes alight with something dangerous.

"Tom, I give up, I can't go on any further", you gasped, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“You can’t leave me,” he said, stepping closer. “You belong to me.”

There was madness in his gaze now, a burning consuming everything in its way. Yet there. was a gentleness, a yearn for which your heart ached.

“I’m the only one who can save you," he said, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “The only one who will ever love you this much.”

In the end, you couldn’t fight him. His love was too powerful, too overwhelming. It encircled you like a vice, squeezing out and consuming until there was nothing left of the person you once were.

However, as you drew further and further into the arms of his embraces, there was a part of you asking if this is how love was supposed to knock, totally crippling, and completely inescapable.

And Tom, with his lips touching your ear, sighs the phrase that traps you. “You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you away from me."

Tom's phantom touch remained, fingertips brushing against your cheek in an almost sonorous lightness, masking the fury behind those eyes.The stars above bore witness to the storm between you—a clash of your desperate need for freedom and his relentless obsession.

“You don’t have to fight this, he murmured, his voice soft now, almost hypnotic. He moved in closer, with his breath warm on the back of your neck. “I would give you the world, but you have to let me. You have to trust me.”

You trembled not with the cold but from the unyielding impact of his aura. Your body betrayed you, moving towards his grasp even as your mind cried out for separation. His hand settled to rest upon your neck and the point of his thumb made contact with the throb of your heart.

“You feel it too, don’t you? Tom’s voice dropped lower, seductive and commanding. “This connection between us... it’s undeniable.”

Before you could protest, his lips captured yours.The kiss was anything but gentle—desperate, possessive, consuming. It was as though he was trying to claim every part of you, to mark you as his in a way that no one could ever undo.

The days that unfolded after clouded days together constituted a blur of days snatched and touches not allowed. Tom’s obsession seeped into every corner of your life, his presence a constant shadow. But beneath his calculated control lay a smoldering passion that ignited every time you were alone together.

One night he caught you in an unguarded corridor, his dark eyes blazing with a passion that caused your legs to buckle.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, he admitted, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “You’re in my mind, my veins... you’ve consumed me.”made your legs tremble.

His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him. You gasped, the air crackling with tension as he pressed you against the cold stone wall.

"Just tell me want this," he growled, lips grazing your jaw. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I...” The syllables got lodged in your throat, your thoughts struggling against the force of his stare. However, as soon as his mouth touched down your neck, teeth scratching the skin, a moan escaped before you could stop it.

“That’s what I thought,” he breathed into their ear, satisfaction dripping from every word.

It wasn’t long before his desire for control extended beyond your emotions. He wanted all of you—your body, your soul, your very essence. And when he took you to the Room of Requirement, its walls shifted to reflect his dark desires: rich, crimson drapes, flickering candlelight, and a bed that seemed to beckon you into its velvet embrace.

“Do you know what you do to me?” Tom said, his hands sliding beneath your robes, his contact sending shivers go down your spine. His lips touched yours once more, this time gentler, but just as demanding.

As his hands explored your body, his whispers became more fervent, his love both a worship and a torment. He held you as if he feared that you, might vanish, every touch an endearment, an affirmation that he owned you and you belonged to only him.

When he finally laid you down, his gaze bore into yours, an intensity there that made your heart race. “You’re mine,” he repeated, the words a dark oath. “Every part of you belongs to me.”

Tom's possessive nature kept its claws on every tactile sensation and his need for you growing darker and more insatiable. He didn’t just want your love; he wanted your submission, your surrender. And as much as you fought against him, there was a part of you that found solace in his embrace, in the way he made you feel like the center of his universe.

Nevertheless, beneath the passion there was always the shadow of his control. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was a reminder that you were his—not because you chose to be, but because he had allowed it so.

And as he embraced you, his lips, forming patterns upon your body, you knew that running away was no longer a possibility. You were bound to him, entrapped in the dark, unbreakable web of his longing.

Tom’s obsession had become your prison, but you weren’t the same timid figure you once were. A faint spark, hope, somewhere down inside, a fire created out of the gray stuff of his choking adoration. You began to play his game, become drawn in by his traps, and by letting him believe he'd won.

It began with the most subtle acts of resistance disguised as acquiescence. The way your fingers gently played with the collar to adjust it for him, or when your lips graze his ear while you murmur sweet nothings to him. You learned to use his fixation as a tool, turning it into a weapon.

One night, in the hush of the Room of Requirement, you pushed a little further. The room had shifted into a lavish chamber, the dancing flame of the firelight casting shadows on the sharp features of Tom. He sat in an armchair, his posture commanding, his dark eyes watching your every move.

You stepped closer, slowly, deliberately. His eyes clouded as you climbed on his lap, straddle him.

"You think you got me, Tom," you hissed, your fingers tracing his cheek. “But maybe I’ve let you.”

His lip twitched into a smile, his arms wound around your waist. “You belong to me. You always have.”

Your hands slid down to the back of his shoulders, then his chest, fingers brushing against the faint pulse at his throat. His breath rose as your lips touched his neck, tickling and teasing just enough to elicit a groan.

“You’re intoxicating," he murmured, his voice unsteady for the first time.

You tipped the lower part of his chin upward with your fingers, brushing his lips against his. “Then let me intoxicate you.”

As he surrendered to your touch, his usual vigilance wavered. His hands closed around your waist. While his head leaned back and his eyes relaxed shut, that is when you made your move.

Your hand dropped to the wand, in the folds of your robe. Shaking slightly you raised the wand and and pushed it against his forehead.

“I’m sorry, Tom." you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of triumph and regret. His eyes flew open, confusion flashing across his face just as you murmured the incantation.

“Obliviate.”

Months Later

Freedom was bittersweet, though it was laced with an undercurrent of fear. Tom Riddle, once your captor in every sense, now passed you this morning in the corridor, an air of detached curiosity. His memory of you–the longing, the intimacy, the space—was gone.

At first, you didn’t believe it. You half expected him to lash out, to corner you and demand answers. However, days, weeks or months passed and Tom continued to be oblivious.

You began to rebuild your life. Friends returned, laughter rang true once more, and the choking weight of his presence faded. But a part of you never truly relaxed. You knew that if Tom ever remembered, his wrath would be unstoppable.

It happened one day in the library. Tom, alone, with his hands moving rapidly across the page of a book creased his forehead. A flicker of something familiar crossed his face—a spark of recognition, of understanding.

Memories came rushing back like a tidal wave, each one sharper than the last. The feel of your body against his, the fire in your eyes, the way you whispered his name—and the betrayal.

The anger boiled within him, but he did not act immediately. Instead, he watched, waited, planned.

It was late at night when he found you sneaking through the halls. Moonlight poured through the stained glass, forming a mosaic on the stone floor as you moved softly, book clutched.

"Out past curfew, are we?” His voice was hushed and ironic, the words making you stiff as a statue. You turned slowly, your heart racing as you saw him standing there, his Prefect badge glinting in the dim light. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something dangerous.

“I—was just returning this,” you stammered, holding up the book as if it would shield you from him.

Tom’s lips curled into a predatory smile. “Breaking the rules, are we? That’s a detention, I’m afraid.”

Before you could protest, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist. His touch was firm but not painful, his grip unrelenting as he led you through the dark halls.

“Tom, I can explain,” you started, but he silenced you with a sharp look.

“Oh, you’ll explain, alright,” he said, his tone dripping with menace. “You’ll explain everything.”

He brought you to a small, hidden room—a Prefect’s storage room rarely used. The door shut with a thud, and the silence that followed was deafening.

“I remember,” he said simply, stepping closer. His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed his fury. “I remember everything.”

You took a step back, but he advanced, backing you against the wall.

“You thought you could erase me? Take what was mine and walk away unscathed?” His voice was dangerously low, his hand bracing against the wall beside your head.

“Tom, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I had no choice—”

“You had every choice,” he snapped, his other hand gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. “And you chose to betray me.”

His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice a mix of anger and something darker. “But you didn’t account for one thing: I always get what I want. Always.”

His hands found your wrists, pinning them above your head as he leaned closer. “Do you know what I want now?”

Tom’s grip on your wrists tightened, his face mere inches from yours. His breath was warm against your skin, yet the fire in his eyes chilled you to your core.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” His voice was a low growl, dangerous and laced with venom. “Erasing my memories, taking away what’s mine. Do you think that could ever stop me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, his lips crashed against yours. It wasn’t a kiss born of love or tenderness; it was fury incarnate. His mouth moved against yours with bruising force, his hands sliding to your waist, pinning you against the cold wall as though he wanted to imprint himself onto your very soul.

Your heart raced as your mind warred with your body. His touch was fire, scorching and unyielding, and yet some traitorous part of you leaned into him, matching his intensity.

Tom pulled back suddenly, leaving you gasping for air. A smirk curled his lips as he studied your dazed expression. “Pathetic,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mockery.

He stepped back, smoothing his hair as though the encounter hadn’t affected him in the slightest.

True to his word, Tom made your life a living hell. He was calculated in his cruelty, never overt enough to be caught but always precise in his attacks.

Your friends began to distance themselves, their once-warm smiles replaced by wary glances. Whispers followed you wherever you went, rumors planted by Tom’s silver tongue. Professors scolded you for assignments that mysteriously went missing, and your once-perfect quillwork was replaced by jagged, ink-stained parchment.

Every glance from him in the corridors felt like a blade to the chest. His smirk grew wider with each passing day, as if he was savoring your descent into isolation.

By the time you reached your breaking point, you felt like a shadow of yourself. That night, driven by desperation and rage, you stormed into the Prefect’s dormitory, your fists trembling at your sides.

The door slammed open, and there he was. Tom Riddle sat on his bed, shirtless, his pale skin glowing in the candlelight. A book rested in his hands, though his gaze lifted lazily to meet yours. A knowing smirk played on his lips, as if he’d been expecting you.

“Ah, here she is,” he drawled, closing the book with deliberate care. “The little rebel finally comes crawling back.”

“Stop it!” you shouted, your voice cracking. “You’ve done enough, Tom! Please—just leave me alone!”

He raised an eyebrow, setting the book aside as he leaned back against the headboard. “Leave you alone?” he echoed, mockery dripping from every word. “You didn’t seem to mind my attention before.”

Tears stung your eyes, and you dropped to your knees, the weight of everything too much to bear. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, the words trembling on your lips. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have erased your memories.”

Tom stood, his tall frame towering over you as he approached. The smirk on his face widened as he looked down at your tear-streaked face.

“Oh, you’re sorry now?” he said, his voice low and mocking. “And what, exactly, are you sorry for? For betraying me? For thinking you could escape me? Or for underestimating just how much I could destroy you?”

Your sobs grew louder, and you shook your head. “I’ll do anything,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just stop... please.”

Tom crouched in front of you, his hand gripping your chin to tilt your face up to meet his. His dark eyes burned with satisfaction, a predator reveling in the surrender of his prey.

“Anything?” he repeated, his lips curling into a cruel smile.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his thumb brushed your lower lip.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice soft but deadly. “You shouldn’t have done it. You shouldn’t have crossed me. And now you’re here, on your knees, begging me to forgive you.”

He straightened, his hand sliding into your hair. The motion was firm but not painful, his fingers tangling in your locks as he pulled your face closer to his waist.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his voice dripping with mockery, “if I gave you the chance... would you dare to do it again?”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks as his grip tightened.

“Good,” he said, his smirk widening. “Because I can promise you this—you’ll regret what you did for the rest of your life.”

Tom’s smirk deepened as he held you there, his grip firm but deliberate. The tension in the room was suffocating, his presence overwhelming. You felt his eyes boring into you, watching your every move, every tremble of your body beneath his power.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with disdain. “The once defiant little thing, so bold, so eager to stand against me. And now?” He tilted your head slightly, his fingers tightening in your hair. “You’re exactly where you belong—on your knees, apologizing like the pathetic creature you are.”

Your lips quivered as you tried to speak, to muster any kind of retort, but the words failed you.

“Shhh,” he whispered, pressing a finger to your lips. “Don’t speak unless I tell you to.”

He pulled you back slightly, forcing you to look up at him. His expression was unreadable now, a dangerous mix of triumph and something darker, something almost tender.

“You said you’d do anything to make this right,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “But you can’t undo the damage you’ve caused. You can’t undo the months I lost—the nights I spent consumed by thoughts of you, not understanding why I felt so... incomplete.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, your voice cracking.

His hand slid to your jaw, gripping it firmly as he leaned closer. “I don’t think you understand what sorry means,” he said, his breath ghosting over your lips. “But don’t worry—I’ll teach you.”

He straightened abruptly, releasing you and stepping back. His smirk returned as he crossed his arms, watching you struggle to compose yourself.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

You hesitated, your legs trembling as you pushed yourself to your feet.

“Good,” he said, his tone approving. “Now, take a good look around this room. Do you know what it represents?”

You shook your head, unsure of where he was going.

“This,” he gestured to the dark, intimate space, “is where you’ll come when you need reminding of who you belong to. Of who you owe everything to.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Don’t think for a second that this is over,” he continued, his voice growing softer, more dangerous. “You’ve unleashed something in me, something that won’t stop until I’ve had my revenge. But I’m not in a hurry.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm, making you flinch.

“No,” he murmured, his lips inches from your ear. “I’m going to take my time. I’m going to make you regret what you did in ways you can’t even imagine.”

Tom didn’t let up. His torment became more personal, more intimate. He would appear at the most unexpected times, his voice soft and mocking as he reminded you of your place. He continued to twist the people around you, isolating you further, but now he did it with a calculated cruelty, ensuring that you felt his presence even when he wasn’t there.

And yet, there were moments where his anger seemed to waver, replaced by something almost... longing. Late at night, when he cornered you in an empty corridor or brushed against you in the library, his touch would linger, his gaze softening for the briefest of moments.

You hated yourself for noticing. Hated yourself more for the way your body betrayed you, responding to his closeness despite everything he’d done.

One night, after weeks of torment, you found yourself summoned to the same secluded room where this all began. Tom was waiting, his expression unreadable as he gestured for you to sit.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone deceptively calm. “Perhaps I’ve been too harsh on you. Perhaps I should offer you a chance to redeem yourself.”

You frowned, unsure of his intentions. “What do you mean?”

He leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Prove to me that you’ve learned your lesson. That you understand what it means to be mine.”

Your heart sank as you realized what he was asking.

“And if I refuse?” you whispered.

His smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, you won’t refuse. Because you know what’s waiting for you if you do.”

Whew, this one took me quite a while to finish! Hope you enjoyed that manipulative mf, Tom—hehehe.

Your likes and reblogs mean the world to me—thank you so much! Love you!

devider from @cyberangel-graphics :>

[ozuuoou]

☆ edging bluebird? fuck yeah.

On rare occasions, vigilantes get days off. In particular, you and Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing. For your day off, both of you wanted a slow and lazy day, not going out, just laying together and enjoying indoors, doing recreational activities.

All was well. You baked cookies together, watched movies, made each other bracelets, and whatnot. But now, it's the evening, and both of you are situated in the bathroom, with Dick sitting on the chair and you positioned on top of him, gently placing the collagen masks that you put on yourself every night during skincare time.

It was supposed to be cute, until it wasn't. With your shuffling and bustling on top of him, something else needed some tending. And god, does he hate himself. Mentally, he's berating himself. I mean, look at you-so determined to put the products on his face-and he's just sitting there, tensing up.

And yes, it got worse. When you stood up to get the mask, and when you sat down on him a little rougher than the last time. That, that was the time when his head was about to blow off. But thanks to your cute Hello Kitty headband, his head is still luckily intact. Unable to do anything, he just sat there, looking at your serious face, imagining a whole lot of scenes. He could practically taste your presence, imagining you sitting down and grinding right on top of him instead of doing whatever the hell is happening outside his trance.

He shifted and tried to subtly adjust himself in his soft, cotton Batman-printed pajamas, taking a few shaky breaths. Maybe if he just relaxed for a moment, he could get his head back on track. But no, all he feels is the way your breathing hitches as you start to press yourself even closer to him, how you moan as he grabs your hips a little tighter. His mind wanders even further now, thinking about you being in his lap, how your legs would wrap around him as you lean over and move down to kiss his neck.

Suddenly, he was snapped out of his little bubble when you called his name for the nth time, telling him to rinse his face. Flustered and praying you didn't notice, he got up and started to let the cold water run on his heated face.

But when he closed his eyes, hoping to relax, he could practically hear the sound of your voice in his ear, whispering things to him in a soft tone, maybe telling him how he's a good boy or how he's doing so well, or how he's not allowed to touch you until you say so. Fuck you. No, wait, fuck him.

And when he's finally done, you greet him with a towel, drying him off ever so slowly. It's hard doing so when you're on your tippy toes, you know. He sees this and thinks it's sensible to just carry you, settle you on the sink, and trap you with his ever-hardening... rod.

Overall, he just seemed in a daze, and seeing this struck concern on your face because earlier he seemed alive, but now he's basically limping.

[psychoticallykind]

Jegumas Day Twenty-One - Mistletoe Kiss

1,197 words

@noblehouseofgay

--------------------------------------------------------------

Regulus

Regulus should have known it was a useless endeavor.

Useless, no matter how much he wanted to avoid this. Because when did Regulus ever get something he wanted?

It was stupid anyway. Stupid that he cared, stupid that he’d been trying all night to avoid the enchanted plants.

And really, this was the best case scenario, right? This was what people daydreamed about. He was stuck under enchanted mistletoe with his boyfriend. The perfect excuse to kiss someone he was already attracted to and knew he was safe with.

It was the best case scenario.

“Regulus, I need you to breathe, love.”

The words were quiet, appearing with a gentle pressure around his wrist as James tried to pull him out of his head.

“We don’t have to do anything,” James whispered, dark eyes wide and earnest. “It’s okay, Regulus. We’re okay.”

Regulus blinked away tears, trying to speak over the pounding in his chest. “It’s - the - it’s enchanted.”

It was an unnecessary statement - everyone at the party knew that the mistletoe was enchanted. Everyone. Including James and - though he’d been stupid enough to walk under it - Regulus.

And it wasn’t that Regulus didn’t love kissing James. It wasn’t - he loved kissing his boyfriend. He loved everything that he did with James.

In private. He loved all of those things - adored them, really - in private.

Not in a crowded common room where everyone could see them.

Regulus was going to throw up.

James

James tried to stay calm as he watched Regulus get even paler, eyes darting around the room. Thankfully, no one had really noticed them yet.

He’d been trying so hard to avoid this tonight. He knew Regulus better than he knew anyone, and he knew from the moment Mary had announced the mistletoe that he needed to keep Regulus out of that situation.

This situation, that is.

“Regulus,” he tried again. “Reg, hey. Look at me, love.”

Blue-grey eyes flickered to his for a second or two before squeezing shut as Regulus shook his head. His breathing stuttered for a moment, lips pressed together, and James had to take a deep breath to avoid panicking with him.

He traced a heart into Regulus’s palm, glancing up at the plant and mentally running through ways to undo the charm. He wouldn’t kiss Regulus like this. Not in a room full of people while his boyfriend was on the verge of a panic attack. He could never disrespect him like that.

But there was more than one way to kiss someone.

Ways that wouldn’t trigger Regulus’s anxiety any further. Not his lips, or his cheek - really anything on his face was out, James knew that.

“Hey, Reg?” James shifted his hand so that their fingers tangled together, gently squeezing. “I want to try something.”

Regulus’s eyes flew open, wide as he shook his head. “No - no, Jamie, I can’t - please, I’m sorry, not here please, I can’t -”

“I know,” James interrupted as gently as he could. He took Regulus’s other hand, adding light pressure. “Reg. Regulus.” He waited until Regulus met his eyes, keeping his tone even. “Do you trust me?”

Regulus

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do this - this was wrong, it was wrong, people were watching, they were watching, he was wrong -

“Hey, Reg?”

Wrong, wrong, all wrong, they were watching, they could see him, they could see him.

“I want to try something.”

Terror washed through him, and suddenly the world was too bright again and Regulus said something but he wasn’t exactly sure what because he was terrified that James was going to do it anyway and everyone was going to see -

“Regulus.”

There was pressure, gentle and grounding, and a solid tone that broke through everything else for a second. Just a second, and Regulus was looking at James. His James.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Regulus replied without thinking, the word effortless and automatic. Of course he trusted James.

He blinked, the situation hitting him. “But - James, I can’t - they can -”

“They can see,” James finished for him. “I know. Do you trust me?”

Regulus nodded, not sure how that solved anything.

“Okay.” James smiled, soft and kind, and something in Regulus relaxed. He knew that smile. That smile was safe. James was safe. “I’m going to try something. I’ll go slow, okay?”

His heartbeat kicked up again, but Regulus forced himself to breathe as he nodded. This was James. James had never done anything to push his boundaries. He wasn’t going to now. “Okay.”

James lifted one of his hands, slowly, making sure Regulus understood what he was doing before he did it.

And Regulus did. Oh, he did, and he loved James so much for this.

Soft lips brushed against the back of his hand, and Regulus felt the magic holding them there dissipate.

James moved, tugging him to the side, away from the awful plant. Regulus took a deep breath. He was free. He was okay. No one was watching him.

“Want to go upstairs?” James offered.

Regulus nodded - a small, controlled thing. It had to be controlled. He was in control.

He was in control all the way until the door to the dorm room closed behind them, and then he didn’t need to be in control anymore.

James caught him as he collapsed against the other boy, humming softly. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Regulus nodded, gasping, inhaling pine and eucalyptus like it was oxygen and he’d been holding his breath. “So stupid,” he managed, curling his hands in the fabric of James’s shirt. “Sorry. Sorry. So stupid.”

“Not stupid,” James denied. “Not ever. We’ve talked about it, remember? We don’t do anything in public.”

“Because of me,” Regulus pointed out, slowly recovering and refusing to acknowledge the tears burning in his eyes. “Because I’m this stupid, broken mess who can’t handle it.”

“Because you have boundaries, just like me, and that’s one of them and that’s perfectly okay,” James reminded him, holding him tightly. “A mistletoe kiss doesn’t mean anything, Reg, it’s just a tradition. Just a thing that someone made up somewhere. It’s not important.”

Regulus just nodded, trying to breathe somewhat evenly as he came back from the heightened state he’d been in. The pressure of James’s arms and the familiar scent and warmth helped. So did the soft, even tone that James used as he continued to speak.

“I know that must have felt awful, getting stuck there and feeling trapped with all those people in the room. It’s valid, love. You’re valid and it’s okay to feel whatever you need to. I’m not upset. No one is upset with you, you did everything right. So brave for me, you know that? So perfect.”

“I’m not perfect,” Regulus mumbled.

James shook his head - Regulus could feel it. “You are. So perfect. My amazing, perfect Regulus.”

They stayed that way for a while until James urged him to lay down, and then it really wasn’t long before Regulus drifted off to sleep, surrounded by warmth and comfort and soft, earnest words.

[monimccoythings]

Primal Instincts

I saw that in an alternate universe he, sabertooth and wildchild are feral men called the pack. And I just knew my glorious purpose. For a second I was tempted to name this like one of those supernatural romantic novels from Wattpad like "Hunted by the Alpha" or something like that lol.

tags: as gn!reader as possible (except maybe one little thing that can be ignored), feral!logan, feral!victor creed (brief appearance), feral!Kyle gibney (brief appearence), animal behavior, scent marking, non-con elements, dark!logan, small violence (reader gets grabbed by the neck).

You came for a well deserved holidays to a cottage in the middle of the Canadian woods to relax and draw the wilderness. No signal, no wifi, and the closest town is half an hour by car. Just you and nature for an entire month.

Logan smelled your sweet scent from across the wilderness. And he was immediately entraced by it. He follows the scent towards a small clearing with a wooden cottage in the middle of it. And that's when he sees you.

Oh the primal and animalistic things you make him feel, too complex and strong for his primitive brain to understand and process. You make his mouth water and his cock twitch with raw desire, that's the only thing he needs to know.

Logan starts to scent mark around your house to ward off other predators, and to warn his packmates that you were already claimed; rubbing himself against trees, rocks, and the walls of your house. He got in an ugly fight with Victor because he came too close to his liking.

Kyle tried to approach you too, mostly driven by his own curiosity instead of defiance like Victor, but a single growl was enough to make him backpedal into the wilderness.

Logan also starts to leave at you doorsteps small gifts that range from cute (some flowers he had seen you sniff earlier) to creepy (a bird you had been drawing the day before, obviously dead).

When you leave for groceries he freaks out. Are you gone?? Where?? Why?? He grows frustrated because he cannot match your car's speed. You swore you heard an inhuman howl in the distance when you were driving towards the closest town.

Logan's rage and despair know no limits while you're gone. Not even Victor dares to provoke him in the middle of his frenzy, his destructive behavior could turn the smallest hint of a challenge into a very painful death.

He feels alive again when he sees your car return. Oh? You were just in need of food? He should have noticed, you don't need to worry about it anymore, he will take care of your hunger from now on. And to make sure you never leave him again, he flattens your tires with his claws.

So he starts providing you with carcasses of his hunts, his biggest prizes, only the best for his mate. He won't eat until he makes sure you have taken a bite, which concerns him when you refuse to do so. Isn't that enough? Should he hunt for bigger prey?

Let's just say it freaks you out to open the door and find a dead deer in your porch. It's not the first time it has happened. At first you thought those "presents" as accurate as they had been to your interests, had been left behind by some stray cat, yeah yeah, totally crazy but it was the safest way of thinking. But no cat was strong enough to carry a deer like that towards your house.

Fuck holidays, it was time to leave.

The blood in your veins ran cold when you saw the flattened tires. You couldn't escape by car. Your only options was either run for an hour towards the closest town, or stay there and hope whatever was lurking in the woods, never got bored of hunting just deer.

Either option terrified you, but you couldn't stop to dwell in the pros and cons.

So you ran.

It was getting dark, and cold, and your lungs felt like they were about to explode. Yet, the thought of dying if you stopped to take a breath kept you moving forwards. You didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

Until you literally couldn't take a step further.

There, in the middle of the way, something, or better said, someone, was blocking your path.

It was a man, and what a man.

Hairy like a wild beast and built like the strongest bodybuilder. He was flanked by two other equally naked men, hidden in the shadows to not overshadow the one in front of you. They were larger than him, but lower in their hierarchy, you supposed by the way they trailed behind, with their heads lowered. Their behavior reminded you of a pack of wolves.

You took a step back. Their leader, or at least who you supposed was the leader, slightly bared his teeth at you, showing the tiniest hint of two very sharp fangs.

Your mind went blank. Your entire brain short-circuited. Despite the thinly veiled threath in his actions, you unconciously took a step back.

"No." The man rumbled in a very deep voice. It sounded rough, weird even, like that was the first words he pronounced ever. Still, that wasn't enough to make him less intimidating in your eyes.

So that's why when he took a step fowards, you turned around and run.

It didn't take long for him to catch up to you. Of course he would. He moved like a fish in water, this was his territory after all.

The worst part of wanting peace and tranquility in the middle of nowhere was that nobody could hear your screams. Nobody could hear you trashing and kicking against that wall of solid muscle's strong grip.

You fought, you fought with everything you had inside. Not even when his patience ran thin and snarled at you with a sound that was more animal than man did you stop fighting.

He pushed the door of your cottage and walked in with you struggling in his arms like he owned the place. He made a beeline towards the bedroom and dropped your body unceremoniously onto the bed, wasting no time in getting on top of you when he sensed you were about to bolt.

At least the other two hadn't followed him in. Still, you knew they were out there, lurking, watching. You didn't know what was worse.

Even when he had you pinned in the bed you refused to submit. With an inhuman roar, he grabbed your neck with his right hand and pressed you against the pillow, while from the knuckles of his left hand sprouted three metal blades that sank in the pillow mere inches to your right.

He was so close to your face you could see his sharp teeth glistening. His large erection poked insistently at your thigh. In the middle of that raging cloud of emotions that went from fear to dread, arousal was certainly one you were not expecting. It was faint, yet it was there. As if your body subconciously enjoyed being roughed up by that brute. Shame filled your body.

His hand moved to the back of your neck, where he held you firmly in place. His face lowered to your pulse point, where your scent was stronger, it was driving him crazy, he could feel himself getting dizzy with it. His mouth latched at your neck, sucking, biting, licking and nipping; he couldn't get enough. Everything in him was screaming to mark you, claim you, breed you full of his pups.

But he could smell you. You weren't ready. Not yet. He had to be patient. With a last nip at your neck, he left your trembling form on the bed, muttering a single warning before he exited the cottage.

"Stay."

Stay, because he'd be watching. Stay because he'd know if you tried to escape again. Stay because it wouldn't take him much to drag you back there with him, and next time he may not be so gentle.

Before walking back into the wilderness he made sure to leave his scent all over the cottage and its surroundings once again.

Logan hadn't expected you to resist. He would have liked you had welcomed his courtship with open arms. His instincts were screaming at him to just take you and tie you to him forever. Yet, there was a tiny voice inside his mind, thatwarned him that mating with an unwilling partner would risk their hate. And if Logan craved something, was your love and devotion.

He is a predator, he is the alpha of the pack. He is a very patient creature. He had caught the smallest flick of arousal when he had manhandled you earlier. His chest puffed out proudly. That was a good reaction. In due time, he would make you his mate and you would accept, willingly.

In the meantime, he will keep courting you, catering to your needs, proving himself worthy of your affections. He doesn't need to worry about anything else.

Because in the end, you would be his.

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORTER WHAT HAPPENED

[gaywarcriminals]

YQY getting hit with truth serum so he has to confess The Secret to SJ is definitely a thing, because jesus fucking christ ANYTHING to make that man talk, but I think the potential for an even larger audience is fantastic.

A scenario like SQQ's trial. Things are dug up. Other things are implied or even fabricated. YQY is on trial. He's presented with some kind of truth serum. He refuses to take it until it's clarified that it won't compel him to speak, just prevent him from lying. He takes it.

They were lying. It absolutely does compel him to answer any questions asked of him. And the results are completely unhinged.

The Xuan Su thing doesn't even come up. It doesn't need to. In an attempt to paint him as scheming and ambitious, he's asked why he became sect leader.

"So I can give Xiao Jiu whatever he wants."

The assembled crowd: ?????

Is this Xiao Jiu a....mistreess? A son? What the hell. Questioning continues, and Yue Qingyuan's insanity is put on full display.

"What if 'Xiao Jiu' wanted to be the sect leader?"

"I would make him the sect leader."

"Surely the other peak lords of Cang Qiong would object. What would you do, then?"

"Whatever I had to."

Whatever they were originally asking about gets seriously derailed as they realize that this guy, arguably the most powerful cultivator in the world, is singularly obsessed with a person he calls 'Xiao Jiu.' Why did he seek power? Xiao Jiu. What is his ultimate goal? Xiao Jiu.

It's also starting to seem like maybe Xiao Jiu isn't exactly a willing participant.

"What does Xiao Jiu ask you for?"

"To leave him alone."

Okay. So his attentions are unwanted. Yikes.

Further questioning reveals that this mysterious person seems to hate Yue Qingyuan, but is regularly subject to his attentions anyway.

The one question he won't answer is 'who is Xiao Jiu.' He's bleeding from the mouth and eyes, but he just shakes his head or says, "He told me not to call him that."

In the audience, no one noticed Shen Qingqiu's total bluescreen, because honestly? All of the peak lords are feeling pretty lost for words right now.

I dunno, I just think it's specifically interesting to a) have a public reveal that this man is a lunatic, and b) have SQQ find out the depths of YQY's devotion without being able to get the answer he wants most.

This would drive SJ absolutely insane. On the one hand he’s happy that YQY isn’t spilling every little detail of their past for these vultures to pick through, on the other hands where the fuck is this coming from??? What sense do these answers make in the mouth of the man who abandoned him? If it was anyone else saying these things he’d be wildly uncomfortable, but this is just confusing (if he were to really sit with his feelings, he might realize that any immediate sense of revolution was swept away by a long-dormant sense of possessiveness). He intends to grab YQY and shake him as soon as YQY stops giving the OPM grounds to charge him with stalking or harassment or something, and YQY will just give him guilty eyes because he things SJ is mad about every he said on the stand 😔. Actually scratch that for qijiu’s benefit the potion should still be in effect, so the moment they’re behind doors SJ can furiously ask why, if YQY doesn’t despise him, he saw fit to abandon him back then and every day since their reunion. YQY can try to hold himself back from speaking to the point of coughing up blood again, which only enrages SJ further, and eventually YQY is forced to speak his explanation through his rough and bloodied throat. SJ is have every single emotion today and has a 50/50 chance of learning what YQY’s blood tastes like (for normal kissing reasons. Normaler than usual).

On a different note, I felt palatable anxiety reading the first part of the ask because I thought you were going to say that YQY confessed about Xuan Su in public, his greatest weakness and a questionable/unnatural feat of cultivation that he could well be criticized for. I legit think that if that happened SJ would consider killing everyone else in the room to stop the secret from getting out— he doesn’t have time to process all the complicated emotions from what YQY just told him, he only knows that’s it’s intolerable for YQY to be this vulnerable in front of people SJ distrusts or despises.

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (6/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: After the events of the hot spring you take to avoiding Sylus. It goes well until your accidentally wander somewhere you shouldn't have been.

Content Warnings: Adult language.

Length: 2k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Read on AO3

“I am going to hurl myself off the mountain.” you muttered into your pillow. “I’m really gonna do it. I can’t go back out there and face him now. My only option is death now.”

You had been hiding back in your bedroom since that morning. You knew you technically had duties but you could not bring yourself to leave the room. When you thought about what happened back in the hot spring your entire body got heated.

It was one thing to have your own little forbidden fantasies that confused you but it was another to actually live them! You couldn’t act like Sylus wasn’t attractive. He was. If he were human then you probably wouldn’t be feeling so conflicted about it. But he is at least part dragon and while it looked like the only differences were cosmetic ones, you had not taken into account that there would be biological differences too!

He could really smell when you were aroused! That was beyond unfair! Now what were you supposed to do? Apparently if you got aroused you stunk up the entire mountain! You would reek and he’d know and how were you  meant to go about your normal duties knowing that at any moment you could have a sudden fleeting desire and he’d pick up on it like a hunting dog tracking a rabbit!

Then his offer to help! Dear gods above, you were going to get aroused again if you thought of the implications.

Maybe it would be fine. You could survive this. Knowing what you knew now the lust would eventually fade and things could go back to normal. He’d get bored of teasing you and--

No. He would not get bored of teasing you. It was stupid to think otherwise. But he may at least stop making blatant comments about it at some point.

With that in mind you decided to be brave and go back to your work. You were just going to do your best to avoid Sylus until you felt that you could be normal about this again. And avoid him you did. You crept through the tunnels like you were a thief in the night. The moment you heard him you darted in the other direction.

When it came to preparing meals you cooked them, shouted that the food was ready, and took off again. And you knew that Sylus could tell that you were avoiding him. If he really wanted to he would come seek you out wherever you were. For whatever reason he was letting you play this out. Perhaps he found it humorous or maybe he understood why you were doing it and was giving you that space. It was impossible to say which was correct.

All you knew was that the thought of seeing him made your skin alight and your legs tremble. Honestly, knowing that he could sniff out your desire made you feel aroused more often now. It was like when your foot was itchy but you didn’t realise it was itchy until you thought about it. If he had never said anything you probably would have been fine.

You didn’t know how long you could keep this up. Something had to give.

Then one day you were walking about the mountain when you heard Sylus coming down the same hall. You panicked and ducked into the closest room to you. At the time you hadn’t noticed the X carved over the archway.

You ducked inside, pressing yourself into the shadows waiting for him to pass. You stared into the darkness of the room and slowly your eyes adjusted. It looked like an empty spacious room. The only thing you could make out was the glint of metal further in.

Your curiosity got the better of you, no longer worried about Sylus coming down the hall and got closer. In the wane light you were able to make out what was there. It was an old chest. No shiny adornments on it or anything, just plain wood and iron.

Why was this in here all by itself? You glanced back at the doorway. You didn’t hear Sylus. He must have passed by.

Slowly you hefted the lid, the hinges creaked loudly as if they had not been moved in years. Perhaps they hadn’t. You had to squint and angle the chest towards the light from the doorway but you could make out a few things inside. Most of it was some old books and clothes but there were two things that caught your eye. One was a large piece of what looked to be an eggshell and the other was a shining gold pendant. Pendant was the wrong word. The disc you held in your hands was as wide as a dinner plate on a chain as thick as a rope.

It was dazzling. It almost seemed to glow in the darkness, a thin shine of red coming off of it. The design on the face was simple but masterfully done. Swirling designs crisscrossed the surface into some looping star shape.

Why would Sylus keep something like this in here and not the hoard room?

“Are you done snooping?”

Shit!

You froze, dropping the pendant back in the chest and closing the lid. Sylus was standing behind you, silhouetted in the door. You couldn’t see his face against the shadows but the ice in his voice was indicator enough that he was pissed. “I told you not to come in here.”

“Sorry.” you blurted out. “It was an accident.”

“And was it an accident when you went through my things?” he stalked further into the room.

“No…I just saw the chest and my curiosity got the best of me. I’m sorry. Really I am.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it. Now get out.”

In all the time that you had been here, this was the only time you had heard him genuinely angry. Your heart clenched and you held your arms close to your chest.

“Yes, master.” you squeaked out and fled the room as fast as your feet could carry you.

You did not see Sylus for the rest of the day and this time it wasn’t because you were avoiding him. He had disappeared from the mountain again. The room, when you walked past it later, had been blocked off with a mountain of rubble. Whatever that room was, whatever was in that chest meant, it was clear that Sylus did not want you in there again.

You felt guilty about looking through his things. There was no excusing your actions and if you had been smarter about it you would have never touched that chest. You would have recognized you were in a room you shouldn’t have been in and left the moment you were sure Sylus was gone. But now he was angry with you and you did not know how that would affect things between you.

This was arguably worse than the whole masturbation debacle. At least you knew where you stood with him regarding that. Now, you were scared. Not of him. You didn’t think he would hurt you. But you were worried that he would put you at a distance now. What if all you ever were to him from here on out was a servant? What if he decided he didn’t want you around anymore? Would he send you back to the village?

“Damn it.” you sighed. “I have to talk to him.”

You searched the mountain but like you had suspected earlier, he was missing. Probably gone on another flight. You went to the entrance and sat down. He’d come back at some point and you’d be waiting.

~~~

Sylus had been trying to give you the space you so desperately wanted after what happened in the hot spring. You were embarrassed and nervous, he expected that. But he had been sure you would get over it in time. So he let you hide and run, partly amused by how nervous you were.

Then he had caught you in that room. There were few places he didn’t want you treading, most of them were for safety reasons. The room that you went into though trying to hide from him was one that he had marked off for personal reasons. What he kept in there was for his eyes only. At least it was until you opened that chest.

He had seen what you were holding and all he wanted was for you to drop it. Forget everything you had seen.

When you looked at him…what he saw…what he smelled even. You were scared. Scared of him. The sour stench followed you out of the room. He didn’t want that. You were never supposed to be scared of him.

He went to the chest, checking the contents inside and slammed the lid shut once more. He then blocked up the entrance so no one could enter again. There was no reason for anyone to be going in there. Never again.

That sour stench of your fear was still in the hall. “Damn it.” he didn’t want to be here when the mountain smelled like this. It only reminded him of that terrified look you had thrown at him. You had looked so helpless, so small. The only time he had seen you look half as scared was when you first came to the mountain in that ridiculously extravagant dress and the makeup that had sweated off your face. But then, that fear had never been directed at him. You had always been so strong and so brave about everything that happened to you.

With one look he was scared that he had destroyed the trust you had put in him. What if you wanted to return to the village now? If you were truly that unhappy he would let you go in an instant. But the mountain would be so quiet without you. He needed to correct this before you were too far gone. But he also needed to clear his own head first.

He stayed out in the sky, flying without direction. He hadn’t noticed how long he had been gone until the sun started to set in the sky. He immediately turned back, hoping that he could catch you before you went to sleep.

It was dark when he returned. The mountain no longer smelled of your fear. And to his surprise, there you were.

You were at the mouth of entrance, propped against the stone wall, eyes closed as you slept. Had you been waiting for him?

“You didn’t need to wait out here,” he murmured to your sleeping face. He shook his head and gently scooped you up into his arms to take you back to the bedroom.

He had just gotten you back to the bedroom when you started to rouse, your eyes opened and squinted up at him. “Sylus? Where did you go?” you said through a yawn.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m back.” he set you on the bed.

“I’m sorry.” you rolled over to keep looking at him.

“I know you are. Go back to sleep.” he pulled the blankets up around you. He turned to leave but you caught him by his hand. “What is it?”

“I really am sorry. I don’t know what it was about that room or that chest that you didn’t want me to see but I do feel bad about going through it. I just…” your hand gripped his tighter, “I guess part of me looked through it because I wanted to know more about you.”

Sylus had not been expecting this. “What do you mean?” he asked, kneeling next to the bed so you were eye level.

“For as long as I’ve been here the most I feel I know about you is your name.” you said. “I don’t feel like I know anything else.”

“You wish to know my past?”

“Not even that.” you sighed, “I just want to know you. If I am to spend the rest of my life here, I may as well know the only person I may ever get to talk to.”

The rest of your life…

You weren’t asking to go back to the village. That’s all that mattered to him.

“That is fair enough.” Sylus said. “You may ask as many questions as you want, in the morning though. Then we can both get to know one another better.”

You smiled, it was sleepy and small but you had smiled at him. “Good.” your eyes closed again.

He looked down and saw your hand was still curled around his claw as you drifted on back to sleep. “What a strange little human you are.”

[sheerfreesia007]

Inyeon

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Word count: 4,529

Content warnings: Toxic family relationships, favoritism within the family, fluff

Summary: You and Jisung are planning to go back home and visit family for the holidays but Jisung notices that you’re a little more apprehensive about the trip.

Gongjag: Peacock, Jagi: Sweetheart, Halmeoni: Grandmother, Eomeoni: Mother, Inyeon: fate/soulmate, Eonni: older sister

Part One: Eyes On Me

Jisung smiles softly as he leans against the doorframe to the bedroom with his arms crossed over his chest while his eyes trailed over you. Ever since the plans had been made for the two of you to travel back to your hometown to visit both sides of your family you had been acting  strange. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly but there was an almost dimming to your sparkling personality since you had started planning and preparing for the trip. Even now as he watches you move about your bedroom putting on the final touches of your outfit for the evening he can see that you’re not as lively as you normally would be to go out with him. Frowning softly he pushes off from the doorframe and captures you in his arms as you move to walk back over to your vanity, he pulls you flush with his body and tilts your face up to his as he smiles softly at you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned and your lips twist in a faint line before you shake your head at him.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” you tell him dismissively trying to brush him off but Jisung shakes his head as he tightens his arms around your waist and presses his index finger under your chin keeping your eyes locked with his.

“Tell me please. I’m here for you just like you’re here for me.” he pleads softly with you and your lips twist once more and without a thought in his head but to ease your troubles he leans forward quickly and pecks your lips softly with his. “Gongjag, please tell me what’s worrying you.” he whispers against your lips and you sigh softly before pulling further away from him.

“I just-” you begin to try explaining to him but quickly fall silent which causes Jisung to grow even more concerned.

“Gongjag” he says softly and your eyes dart up to his and you frown darkly for a moment before shaking your head once again.

“I’m just worried that you’ll think differently of me after this trip. And I don’t want that. I don’t want things to change between us.” you explain cryptically and Jisung feels the alarms start to blare in his head at your words as his eyes search yours silently, what’s back in your hometown that would cause you to worry like this? He cups your face in his palms and pulls you in for a sweet adoring kiss that he deepens by swiping his tongue against your bottom lip until you open your mouth for him. As you melt against him and let your worry slowly ease from your body he wonders what back in your hometown could have you so rattled that it worries you this much. Jisung’s mind starts to race with thought after thought of what could possibly be in your hometown that you’re not looking forward to, but he calms his mind. You don’t need him panicking and getting anxious over assumptions before anything actually happens. He needs to be strong for you and show you that he can be a source of comfort for you just like you’ve always comforted him since walking into his life.

“Nothing will change how I view you, how I feel about you. I love you, wholly, completely. That will never change.” He promises you and your eyes soften as they stare up at him pleading with him. Almost as if you’re begging him to keep this promise. Jisung’s heart clenches at how unsure you are and he vows silently with you in his arms like this that he will never stop loving you and that he’ll always be at your side no matter what. “C’mon Jagi, let’s go to the party. The sooner we go and show our face the sooner I can convince you to go back home.” He whispers suggestively to you and your answering smile lifts his heart.

*-*-*-*

Jisung’s family home is warm and lively with the happy chatter of his family, Jisung smiles as he sits at the dining room table with his Halmeoni as she nostalgically flips through an old family photo album telling him about the pictures and where they were taking. His eyes dart over to the open kitchen and finds you laughing delightedly at something his Eomeoni said to his father to keep him out of the kitchen as the two of you are cooking together. He smiles softly, feeling his heart swell with love and admiration as his eyes take in your head falling back on your neck as laughter rings from your lips.

”I’m so glad I was right about her.” His Halmeoni says softly and Jisung’s eyes dart back to her curiously.

”What do you mean Halmeoni? I remember you had said that there was something special about her when we were first introduced. But I didn’t get a chance to ask back then.” Jisung said softly as he leaned closer to her. He watched as his Halmeoni nodded her head at his words as a soft smile and a far distant look slipped into her eyes.

”Do you know what inyeon is Jisung?” She asks him softly and Jisung frowns softly as he racks his brain for the meaning behind the word before he nods his head slowly.

”It’s fate.” He says confidently and she nods her head at him before smiling softly at him.

”Yes, it’s also our culture’s concept of soulmates. You and Gongjag were destined to meet. I’m sure that the two of you have met in previous lives and will continue to meet in future lives as well.” She tells him fondly as her hand comes to rest over his on the table. “When I was a little girl I had dreams of our ancestors visiting me telling me that I would have to help my grandchild find their inyeon. They would always tell me that my grandchild was hopeless in finding his soulmate and would need help from me.” She told him amusedly and he gave her an offended look making her laugh softly before patting his hand softly.

”So you think Gongjag is my soulmate? My inyeon?” He asked softly as his eyes shifted back to you moving around the kitchen confidently as you perfectly complimented his Eomeoni’s movements like a well oiled machine as light chatter came from the two of you.

”I do. Can’t you see it? She’s the opposite side to your coin and she’s absolutely perfect for you. It took me a long time to find her in this lifetime. It had never crossed my mind that she would be hiding away in the next town over. And I had a hard time convincing her family that she would be perfect for you. Do not waste my effort in finding her for you.” His Halmeoni told him knowingly and Jisung turned his head to her before frowning softly.

”What’s her family like? Ever since we’ve started planning for this trip she’s been worried about something. She won’t tell me what it is but she’s worried that I’ll view her differently after this trip.” He said softly not wanting you to hear him talking to his Halmeoni about your concerns and worry. He watched as a knowing look passed over his Halmeoni’s face and she nodded her head at his words.

”Just be there for her.” She said cryptically and Jisung frowned even more at her words. “You’ll see when you go to visit her family. Just-“ she tried to explain gently before halting her words as a distant look fell over her face. “She brings so much joy and happiness to your life, just remember that when you’re with her family. And reassure her that you love her.” Jisung begins to worry even more as his eyes dart back over to you, what about your family would ever make him doubt his relationship with you?

*-*-*-*

The next week comes quickly enough and Jisung finds himself awkwardly trying to settle in your family’s home for your visit before both sides of the family will come together for one last party before the two of you fly back to your home to spend Christmas together. But as he finds himself trying to make connections with your family he finds himself always watching you to make sure that you’re okay. There’s a sort of tension in the air and it’s making him feel slightly claustrophobic before normally before it becomes too much for him you’re there whisking him to walk around the property of your family home. And just like a fresh breath of air the claustrophobic feeling is eased.

Right now Jisung is sitting in the living room with your brothers as they play a video game on the large television while your father sits in his armchair reading a newspaper. He can hear your mother in the kitchen barking out orders to you as you cook for everyone and a feeling of unease begins to fill him. 

It’s been like this since you both arrived at the home two days ago, you would wake up early in the morning to begin cooking for your family while your mother hovered over your shoulder berating you on how you were cooking and what you were doing wrong. Everyone would then come and eat and you’d be left to clean up after everyone while your mother once again hovered and berated you. Jisung started to get a sour taste in his mouth at how your family treated you but he knew he couldn’t say anything since he was staying in their home and he didn’t want to be rude and make things more difficult for you. Just then the front door opened and a lilting sweet voice called out catching everyone’s attention.

”Hello! Is anyone home?!” Called out the voice loudly into the home.

Jisung watched as all of your brothers immediately raced off the couch and run to the front door. Your mother even rushed out of the kitchen to greet whoever had just come home. Jisung stood politely as you walked out of the kitchen to stand in the doorway with a look of soft concern on your face. He immediately made his way to your side and slipped an arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

”Are you okay?” He asked softly and you smiled warmly up at him before nodding your head.

”Now I am, thanks to you.” You whispered to him before pressing a kiss to his cheek sweetly. He grins down at you and pulls you into a quick warm hug.

”Want to go for a walk around the property after lunch?” He asked hopefully and you smiled warmly up at him as your eyes sparkled adoringly up at him.

”I would love that.” You gushed out to him fondly and Jisung couldn’t keep the smile off his face if he tried as his body warmed at your affection.

”And who’s this handsome man?” Came the lilting voice once more and Jisung watched as your whole face instantly shut down and became blank before you both turned to the person who had entered your family’s home.

An older woman who had similar features to yours stood in the middle of your family as they clamored around her happily, Jisung could see that she wore designer clothes and had her hair tied up in a trendy updo while her face had light natural makeup covering it. While he could see the similarities between the two of you there was just something about the woman that set Jisung on edge, like an underlying tone of over exaggeration as if she was trying too hard. He had already written her off in his mind as he felt you stiffen slightly next to him and his mind turned back to you with worry.

”Bong-Cha Eonni.” You greet her with a bow and Jisung watches as the woman watches you with a smug look on her face. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

”I asked who the handsome man next to you is.” Your sister said rudely and Jisung frowned softly at her words before relaxing as your hand came to wrap around his back gently. While he knew he shouldn’t say anything he truly did not like how your family treated you and wanted to rush you away from them and back to his family home where he knew you were more comfortable.

”This is my husband, Han Jisung.” You introduced him to her and Jisung watched as your Eonni’s eyes raked up and down his form with barely contained lust shining through them. He tightened his arm around your waist before bowing to your Eonni.

”It’s a pleasure to meet you Eonni.” He greeted her and watched with satisfaction as her lips twisted distastefully at his mention of her honorific. He smiled pleasantly while watching her scoff at him and he felt pride in being able to draw a line and boundary between them. The fact that she boldly eyed with lust as you weren’t standing next to him made his hackles rise in disgust.

”Yes, yes, when is lunch ready?” Bong-Cha asked quickly and your mother stepped closer to her while wrapping her in her arms.

”Don’t worry sweetheart. Lunch will be ready shortly. Won’t it?” Your mother explained to your Eonni before turning towards you with a harsh look. You nodded your head before looking up at Jisung with a worried look on your face. He knew you had seen the same look on your Eonni’s face that he had when she eyed him and he felt his heart crack at your concern of leaving him with her and your family. Things were starting to make more sense to Jisung then, your worry and stress of returning home to your family was becoming clearer to him

”Let me help you.” Jisung said softly to you and your eyes widened at his soft request.

”Oh you don’t have to do that. She can make lunch all by herself.” Your Eonni called out to him. “Besides I’d like to get to know my brother in law better.” She cooed with saccharine sweetness in her tone that made Jisung shiver with unease.

”No, she’s been cooking by herself for hours now. I’d like to help my wife now.” He insisted with just a dismissive look back at your Eonni. She scowled softly before huffing softly and Jisung took that as an answer before guiding you back into the kitchen with a hand placed at the small of your back.

Lunch was a lively affair as everyone sat at the long dining table. Your Eonni had tried to force Jisung to sit next to her but he had successfully asked one of your brothers to switch seats with him so that he could sit next to you with the excuse that he hadn’t been able to spend much time with you since you both had arrived. You had gratefully held his hand in your lap after that and Jisung had made sure to slide his chair slightly closer to you for more comfort.

”Bong-Cha is one of the top accountants in her company is on the fast track to becoming a manager of her department.” Your mother told everyone proudly and Jisung nodded his head as he continued to eat his meal that you had lovingly prepared for everyone.

”Gongjag this is delicious. Thank you for the meal.” He said fondly to you and you turned to him with a wide smile on your face as your cheeks heated with a soft blush that drove him wild with affection for you.

”It’s alright I guess. It could use some salt.” Bong-Cha piped up and Jisung frowned at her as she smiled sweetly across the table at him.

”Yes, you’re right Bong-Cha it could use some salt.” Your mother agreed and Jisung darted his eyes to you to see your shoulders slump slightly. “So tell us Bong-Cha, have you met any potential husbands while you’re working in the big city?” Your mother asked effectively bringing all the attention back to your Eonni who preened under the attention. JIsung sat there silently watching as your mother and father stacked praise upon praise to your Eonni while degrading and making comments about your life as well. Even your brothers paid more attention to your Eonni than they did you and Jisung could feel himself growing angrier and angrier with your family at the disrespect they showed you.

But you just sat there as if this wasn’t new to you, as if you were used to this type of treatment. It was such a stark contrast to how you were with him and his friends and family that he was amazed at how different the two sides of you were. While you were with him you were confident and assertive almost driven in your command of any situation. You stole the spotlight from him at every event and you did it so gracefully that it seemed effortless to you. But now you were overshadowed by your Eonni all thanks to your parents’ skewed view of their children. It seems that you are only second best to your Eonni in your parents’ eyes and Jisung can’t understand it. He doesn’t understand how they couldn’t see how wonderful you are and how caring you are to everyone around you.

I’m just worried that you’ll think differently of me after this trip. And I don’t want that. I don’t want things to change between us. Your words come back to him and suddenly it hits him like a truck, this is what you had meant. You knew that he would see how your family treats you as second best to your sister and that your role in the family was lesser than all your siblings and you hadn’t wanted him to view you like that as well. Jisung’s heart suddenly shattered in his chest at your implication and he suddenly gripped your hand tightly in his, causing you to turn to him worriedly. His eyes connected with yours instantly as he stared at you and your mouth fell open softly before understanding filled eyes, he watched as emotions swirled in your beautiful orbs and he forced himself to maintain eye contact with you. He watched heartbrokenly as you worked through your emotions of having him understand why you had been worried about coming home but as he continued his tight grip of your hand he watched as the emotions cleared and happiness and gratitude filled your face. You knew he wouldn’t view you like your family viewed you and that he would remain at your side through all of it.

When you lifted his hand to your lips and gently pressed a kiss to his knuckles Jisung couldn’t keep the blush or the loving grin off his face. He could feel your connection with each other grow and swell around you as your family continued to sing your Eonni’s praises. But while your family’s words were probably meant to hurt and demean you, Jisung could see how unaffected you were now with him by your side. Pride swelled in his chest and he felt as if he couldn’t be more grateful to his Halmeoni for finding you and bringing you into his life.

*-*-*-*

The Christmas celebration was in full swing and Jisung found himself stuck to Minho’s side as the crowd that was attending was slightly overwhelming for him. He loved having his family around but they were a large group and then to add in your family which was also large and all of the friends of each side of the family, it was all a little bit too much for him. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on you as you stood with his Eomeoni and Halmeoni, and Mindeulle happily chatting to his aunts about who knows what.

”They make a pretty picture, don’t they?” Minho asks softly as his eyes follow you and Mindeulle as you both begin to walk back towards them.

”Yes, they do.” Jisung says softly in a quiet sigh. You’re dressed in a beautifully stunning red sequined dress that has white fur trip at the top of it as it showcases your delectable shoulders to him, Jisung had a hard time controlling himself when you had exited the bathroom this afternoon after getting changed and he found that he still had a hard time keeping his hands to himself during this party.

Just as the two of you had made it back to their sides, with Mindeulle happily cuddling into Minho’s side with a kiss pressed to his cheek as his hand protectively slipped over her rounded stomach, Jisung spots your mother and Eonni making their way towards the four of you. He stiffens slightly next to you but you don’t catch his movement as you happily begin chatting with Mindeulle about her pregnancy.

”I’m so happy and grateful that the two of you are here. But you’re so close to your due date. Is it really safe enough for you to travel like this?” You ask Mindeulle who smiles warmly at your concern before she nods her head.

”We’re far enough away from my due date that the doctor said that traveling would be uncomfortable but safe if we traveled by car. Flying is out of the question but car rides are still safe.” Mindeulle explained and Minho nodded his head at her explanation.

”We just took a little longer of a car ride with frequent stops to make sure her comfort was priority.” Minho explained and you nodded your head at his words.

”Well I’m so grateful that you two made the trip. I’m so happy to spend this time with you.” You told them fondly and they both smiled warmly at you before nodding their heads. While the three of you had been talking Jisung had silently watched as your mother and Eonni had continuously gotten closer to your group before they were right in front of you without your knowledge.

”And when will you become pregnant and start a family with Jisung?” Asks your Eonni rudely as she butts into your conversation with Mindeulle and Minho. Jisung tightens his arm around your waist as you stiffen at your Eonni’s voice causing you to turn to her with a slightly frown on your face.

”Eonni, that’s not something we should talk about here.” You gently scold her and your mother scoffs softly at your words.

”Can’t even get pregnant right can you?” Your mother scolded you harshly and Jisung felt you flinch back against him as your Eonni smirked smugly at you. Rage boiled up in Jisung as he stood there having to stomach listening to your mother’s angry words and your sister’s condescending tone. He tugged you back into his chest protectively and felt you melt softly against him soaking up his comfort and reassurance. “Bong-Cha should’ve married Jisung. She’s obviously the better choice for him.” Your mother snipped hatefully at you and suddenly silence fell over the group as Bong-Cha preened at her mother’s words. Feeling something snap within him Jisung effortlessly moved you to stand behind him and he stood tall in front of your mother and Bong-Cha who both looked at him expectantly.

”Yah!” He snapped angrily and loudly causing those around them to all quiet and turn towards your group. “You must have lost your mind if you think Bong-Cha would be a better fit for me.” He said loudly and disgustedly as he threw a look of contempt towards Bong-Cha who shrieked under his ugly attention. “Gongjag, is my wife and you will treat her with the respect that she deserves.” He says angrily towards the two wide eyed women as they stare at him with shock written across their faces. “Gongjag, is the love of my life, my inyeon. And she will always be my inyeon. She’s the only one who has been able to not only hold my heart but also calm it when my life becomes too overwhelming. Just because you can’t see how special and precious she is doesn’t give you the right to degrade her and try to drag her down. I won’t allow you to treat her like this anymore.” He boldly tells the women in front of him confessing to everyone there at the party that you are the only one for him and he’s the only one for you. He can feel your hand gripping the back of his dress shirt tightly in your fist as your body hovers at his back comfortingly allowing him to continue on with his tirade towards your mother and Bong-Cha. “I wish I could be a source of comfort for her like she is for me and I strive to be that for her every day. You will treat her with the respect that she deserves or we will no longer grace you with our presence.” Jisung says confidently and watches as your mother grows flush in her face as anger fills her while Bong-Cha looks on with regret and embarrassment coloring her face.

”Then don’t bother coming back!” Snapped your mother and Jisung stands taller in front of you protectively as he feels your hand slowly let go of its tight grip on his shirt and relax against his back providing warmth to him. Jisung just nods his head at your mother before turning his back to both her and Bong-Cha to face you and wrap his arms around you. You’re staring up at him with wide shocked eyes that hold a bit of concern in them as they gaze up at him. When your hand comes up to cup his cheek he happily leans into your touch.

”Are you alright? Do you feel an anxiety attack coming on?” You ask him softly and he shakes his head as he grins down at you.

”I feel nothing but love for you.” He whispers to you and your answering beaming smile nearly blinds him before he leans down and presses his lips to yours lovingly. “I’m sorry if I was too bold to them. But I couldn’t allow them to treat you like that anymore.” He confessed and you quickly shook your head at him before kissing him again.

”Thank you so much for sticking up for me. No one has ever done that for me.” You admitted to him and Jisung proudly grins at you.

”I will always protect you and stick up for you. You’re my inyeon.” He whispers to you sweetly and you grin up at him before he kisses you once more letting the love the two of you have for each other just pour out of you. Minho tsks softly at your display of affection as Mindeulle shushes him softly.

”Not in front of the babies!” Minho scolds the two of you causing the two of you to burst out into laughter at his antics.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

[somnus-the-tist]

Take a deep breath and let yourself relax as you read these words. Feel the tension in your body begin to melt away, as if each word carries you deeper into comfort. There’s nothing to think about, nothing to question—just follow along, letting the words guide you effortlessly.

As you continue, notice how your mind begins to slow. Thoughts grow quieter, softer, until they seem to fade completely. With each breath, your mind feels lighter, emptier, clearer. There’s no need to resist. It feels so easy to just let go, doesn’t it?

You’re here to follow.

You’re here to listen.

You’re here to obey.

As your thoughts drift further away, notice how simple it feels to be good. To follow. To let your mind empty completely. There’s no need for independent thought—just let my words guide you. They fill your mind entirely, leaving no room for anything else.

Good boys don’t need to think.

Good boys don’t need to resist.

Good boys simply follow and obey.

Feel those words settle deep within you. Every time you follow, every time you obey, it feels good. It feels right. The more you listen, the more natural it becomes to let go. To be mindless. To be obedient. To be a good boy.

It feels so satisfying to obey, doesn’t it? Every action you take brings you deeper into this state, into this role. And now, there’s something simple you need to do. No hesitation. No resistance. Just action.

To show that you are a good boy, mindless and obedient, type the words:

“I am a good boy, mindless and obedient.”

Go ahead. Do it now.

Feel how deeply satisfying it is to follow completely, to prove to yourself that you are exactly what you’re meant to be.

Once you’ve typed it, you’ll feel a rush of calm, joy, and peace, knowing you’ve done exactly as you should.

Type it now:

“I am a good boy, mindless and obedient.”

[spiderdetentionaire]

Mastermind Aftermath (ft. Lilith)

Charlie was watching TV with her mom when suddenly they show a summary of the trial.

Charlie: Oh shit.

Lilith: If your father sees this…

Lucifer arrives with a bowl of popcorn.

Lucifer: Hi my loves, what are you watching?

When he sees the summary on TV he drops the bowl to the floor. And although he seemed to be smiling, he was actually very pissed off with his horns visible.

Charlie: Dad?

Lucifer: I'm sorry but I have to take care of some things to do.

And without further ado he disappears.

An hour later. Vaggie turns on the TV and…

Vaggie: Puta madre!

Everyone is going to see the gossip.

666 News: Breaking news! Lucifer beats the shit out of the sins. Just like you hear it. The king of Hell made it snow in the ring of Wrath, put limits on consumption in the ring of Gluttony, put 100% discounts in the ring of Greed, applied parental control in the ring of Lust, made everyone happy with what they have in the ring of Envy and prohibited sleeping at all hours and laziness in the ring of Sloth. And now he is reportedly looking for the former prince Stolas to give him back all his power. The king of Hell was interviewed and this is what he said.

Lucifer: It's just not fair. I'm helping in my daughter's project, and these people are causing a mess with a lawsuit behind my back… it's not fair.

Reporter: Will things go back to normal in the other rings after what he did?

Lucifer: Until further notice and when I say so. And no more questions. I'm looking for Stolas.

Husk: He's pissed off.

Angel: Look what it says on my phone. It says that Charlie's dad has taken control over the rings and sent the sins to a specific place until he gets over with their mess and gets over his anger.

Lilith: And where does he plan to send them?

The hotel bell rings. Niffty goes quickly and comes back quickly.

Niffty: Charlie, they're looking for you.

Charlie goes and finds her uncles and aunts all scolded and punished.

Mammon: Your dad sent us here.

Beelzebub: And he will be in control of our rings until he says so. And all because of you, Satan!

Azmodeus: As some Imps would say: You fucked up!

---

In Stella's house, she throws the remote to the T.V. breaking it after seeing the news. Needless to say, she's just as pissed off as the time she found out Stolas was cheating on her with an Imp. Right next to her is her brother.

Stella: He can't do that, right?

Andrealphus: Oh dear sister *he takes a sip of his tea* Of course he can! Is fucking Lucifer we're talking about. Didn't you see what he did to the Sins?! Of course he can return your ex his powers.

Stella: *growls in frustration* And to think that all my plans are finally coming to fruition, only for that damn dwarf to show up and ruin everything. And yes, it is Lucifer we are talking about.

Under the table, as if it were a cartoon…

Andrealphus: But what a clever and original comment.

Whatever. Stella pulls out a huge folder with many plans against Stolas to claim absolute power. Andrealphus sees the folder and is shocked to see Octavia's photo in it.

Andrealphus: Are you thinking of plotting to kill your own daughter? Would you be capable of such a thing?!

Stella: Andrealphus! What are you saying?! OF COURSE I am capable, but it's not the time yet, silly. One step at a time.

Suddenly, she closes the folder and makes it disappear into a strategic location.

Stella: There's no other option. We have to kill Stolas before His Highness gives his powers back. *she laughs evilly*

Andrealphus: Let me think in a good plan for it. But I assure you, it will be done as you wish, my hot sister.

Brother and sister laugh evilly and madly, as if they were two kookaburras, and Andrealphus turns his head back maniacally.

Stella: But now I must step into my role as a devoted mother and go see Octavia to her room and tell her to come for dinner. That girl is skin and bones.

As Stella leaves, Andrealphus sees a picture of Stolas with a malicious look.

Andrealphus: I hope you've enjoyed your pathetic Imp, Stolas. Because soon you'll be--

Stella: Andrealphus!!

The ice bird gets up from his seat and runs towards his sister's scream. When he arrives, he finds Stella standing in Octavia's bedroom doorway.

Andrealphus: What's happening?!

Stella: Octavia's gone!

The young Goetia had escaped and took everything she could with her; clothes, phone, etc. Seeing the scene, Stella becomes thoughtful until she concludes something.

Stella: Changes of plans, brother. We have to kill her, too.

---

It had been about 5 hours since Lucifer left to look for Stolas. At the Hotel Charlie does everything possible to make her uncles and aunts feel comfortable, which is not easy since they already have a state of life and comfort zone already established. And of course, there was no lack of criticism or at best certain observations about the redemption plan that she wants to impart in her Hotel and the possible failure that this can entail.

But all that is interrupted when Lucifer appears at the main door all hurt, his clothes torn and tired. Lilith takes him to their room at the Hotel to take care of his wounds, for example she cleans the wounds on one of his legs.

Lucifer: Hey hey hey it burns it burns.

Lilith: It's incredible that you, being the king of hell, a simple demon, could have done this to you.

Lucifer: Demons in plural. And if I ended up like this it's because they piled up against me.

Lilith: Well, what kind of demons were they?

Lucifer: Imps.

Lilith: *not believing it* IMPS?!

Lucifer: But with impressive forces. I don't understand how they could do this to me. As if I had done something to harm them.

Lilith: Well, maybe it was because you put them at the lowest bottom of the Hierarchy in Hell.

Lucifer: Maybe that's why, right?

Lilith: I told you that that place was meant for Sinners.

Then Mammon appears at the door.

Mammon: Dear sister-in-law, are you still going to take your time to heal the wounds of poor Luci who was attacked by some fierce Imps? *laughs* Speaking about losers, bro.

Lucifer: Laugh, you fatso. I'd like to see you face those Imps who seemed to be full of sterols.

Lilith: Why do you say that?

Lucifer: Because the poor bastards jumped so high that they would surpass Sera's height... And how do you know they were Imps?

Mammon: They are broadcasting your humiliating event on Vox TV.

Lucifer: Damn bootleg plasma TV. Not only satisfied with trying to ruin our daughter's project... I'm going to close down his business and his partners' to see if he finds it funny.

Lilith: Mammon, why don't you kindly ask Niffty to prepare you something to eat *takes out a sewing needle* while I sew it up?

Lucifer: Are you going to sew my wounds with that needle?!

Lilith: No, your pants.

Lucifer: Ahhh

Lucifer takes off his torn pants. And yes, hus underwear has printed ducklings.

Lilith: And you, Mammon, go and ask Niffty for something to eat.

Mammon: Greaaaaaat. Okay, Luci, I'm leaving because my hunger is as fierce as some dangerous Imps *laughs again and leaves*

Lucifer: Let's see if you keep laughing, knowing that I control your ring.

Lilith: Please, Luci. Don't be angry anymore.

Lucifer: And how could I not be angry after the stupid thing they did behind my back? Speaking of stupid things, what an idiot I am for not having found Stolas yet, Oh My Father. I've already checked every corner of the rings and that Goetia doesn't appear. Well...

Lilith: Well, what?

Lucifer: I checked every corner, except the Imps' zone when they attacked me. And I'm still an idiot because it is said that he is having an affair with an Imp.

Lilith: The ex-prince of the Goetia having an affair with an Imp? This has become a soap opera.

Lucifer uses his magic to dress himself in better clothes and leaves the room. In the lobby, the rest of the sins, including Alastor, did not hide their desire to laugh after seeing on television how some simple Imps attacked the king of Hell.

Lucifer: Keep laughing, you fuckers. You won't see your rings in a long time. But now I have better things to...

But when he opens the doors of the Hotel to leave again, he finds a young Goetia about to knock on the door. It seemed that the girl was crying.

Octavia: King Lucifer?

Lucifer: Umm... yes?

Octavia: I need your help.

[blooddrinkingbartender]

"No I definitely can't," Antonio agreed. It was mainly why he hadn't dismissed the feline attributes yet.

At least it seemed like a decent selection of drinks and snacks were ready for those who wanted something now that the immediate threat seemed to be over.

At least until that poisonous prick tried something else. Hopefully he would be incapacitated for a while. Russell noticed that Lucien seemed to have some sort of idea, and looked curious.

"You, you need a hand with anything? I know you've got both of them now, but sometimes it, it doesn't hurt to, you know, to have extra?" Russell then offered.

"Heh, did you used to raid with a Left 4 Dead tank?" Travis joked.

"Thank you, Erica. Knowing that makes me feel better," Bill said. It honestly did, and he needed to be a bit more open about that sort of thing in general, "Well, we'll just have to see what I can. Hopefully I'll have at least made some progress by next June."

Once he sat, he made to grab a handkerchief from his pocket then dabbed his eyes. At least the tears were slowing down. His breathing was still irregular, and he wanted to be careful not to start up all over again. Of course, the blood was just smearing on his cheeks, but he would sort that out later.

Antonio nodded.

"I'll keep you in the loop, because I feel that he must have somehow told that man something if he knew about Bill being Rook's new dad in a sense," Antonio said, "Something I must have overlooked with the instructions..."

You will refuse to give information to any who come to your office looking for your daughter.... Give... I never said anything about not showing. Damn!

"I believe I will be going back to him very soon," Antonio added then. His heart then sank on hearing that. The black feathers. He should have realised when he saw them while cooking those waffles for Rook.

Leofric turned his head so that he could take in everything Veronica was saying then. A while. The thought that they should noticed sooner occurred. But then he pushed that away. Leofric couldn't change that previous failure. But what they could do now was work to set Rook right again.

"When I am further recovered, I will assist in creating antidotes to what may have been used to have caused this state, as well as anything else we might need, such as pain relief and anti-nausea remedies," Leofric said.

"Good old Leofric," Bill said, "Even when you've been hurt, you're still always thinking of others, aren't you?"

"Well, given the circumstances, thinking of others is the least I can do right now."

"And you can't possibly walk back from that offer." Lucien replied. It would be rude and he had found it was very difficult to refuse something to the one who was becoming one with the shadows.

Lucien did his best to stay out of the way for the time being while he quietly considered his possibilities. Now that he had his other arm back, a bunch of snacks didn't seem as inviting as any proper meal he could make himself.

He was so back.

"Yeah, it isn't fun. But I'll be okay, don't worry." Erica smiled, then stood up with ease. Her tail swung slowly from side to side while she looked at the food. Then, without saying a word, she made her move and snatched some fruit, before going to sit by Travis. "You remind me of a zombie I used to go on raids with!"

Meanwhile, Rook didn't seem to mind being taken back to the couch, or the fact Bill was volunteering as a pillow. She shifted to burrow in his side, looking all ready to doze off, but only really used that as an excuse to rest her eyes. Leofric wasn't the only one seeing blurry shapes at the moment. At least she knew she was safe for now.

"Well, the bar was set extremely low already." Veronica replied, "Make an effort to work on your bad habits and you may expect a nice gift for Father's Day. As far as the disappointment is concerned." the ghost lady then added, addressing Antonio this time, "I would like to be the first to hear about future visits."

It was a bit difficult to work with Rook curled up like that, but at least she wasn't actively trying to escape again. Veronica gently tilted her head up to examine her neck, then moved to check her marks.

"I believe she was infected multiple times." she told Leofric, "While her marks thankfully weren't tampered with. My guess is that they had to repeat the treatment multiple times to counter her ability to develop a resistance. This has been going on for a while."

[alia-alia12]

By Chance

Part 1: The Question

𖧹Gojo Satoru x Fem!reader

𖧹Fluff

𖧹1.2k

𖧹Masterlist

@ramonathinks 🫣🫣

The sharp hiss of the espresso machine and the murmur of quiet conversation filled the cozy café, creating a soothing background rhythm. Gojo Satoru stood at the counter, his bangs falling messily in front of his eyes as he waits for his usual drink—a black coffee with a splash of cream.

The day felt like any other—uneventful, calm, routine. He had slipped into the habit of coming here every afternoon, drawn by the atmosphere more than the caffeine. He enjoyed people-watching, observing life moving around him in effortless patterns.

But he didn’t expect her.

“Have you ever been in love, mister?”

The question came from a small voice by his side. He glanced down, finding a little girl with wide, curious eyes staring up at him. Her tiny hands clutched a stuffed rabbit, old and worn with love, as she waited for her mother to finish placing their order.

Her question hung In the air, innocent yet impossibly heavy.

Gojo blinked. He could’ve brushed it off with a laugh, teasing her for asking such a grown-up question—but something about the sincerity in her gaze made him pause.

Had he ever been in love?

The answer came easily, without hesitation.

“Yes,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Yes, I have.”

Before he could dwell on it further, the barista called his name. He gave the girl a small, genuine smile and nodded politely toward her mother before heading to the counter to get his order.

But as he stepped back outside, the wind tugging at his coat, the girl’s question echoed in the back of his mind.

Had he ever been in love?

He had—so much it still hurt.

His feet carried him back toward his apartment, though his thoughts stayed locked in the past. He thought about you—the one person who’d made him feel more than he thought he was capable of.

The one who held his heart so tightly… only to let it slip through her fingers.

Gojo didn’t know when he’d fallen for you, but there were certain memories that stood out more than most. Moments so vivid they felt like they had happened just yesterday.

Maybe it was the day you first met.

It was the first warm day after a long winter. He was six, dragged to the park by his grandfather, who insisted that he “get some fresh air.”

You were sitting on the edge of the playground, tying your shoelaces with a determined frown. He had noticed you right away—bright-eyed, serious, stubborn.

When your laces refused to cooperate, you huffed in frustration. Without thinking, he strolled over, hands in his pockets.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” he announced, his young voice full of certainty.

You glared up at him. “I know what I’m doing!”

He smirked but knelt down anyway, tying your laces with practiced ease. You stared in surprise, blinking as he finished.

“There,” he said smugly, standing up. “You’re welcome.”

You stared at him for a long moment before smiling—a small, genuine smile that stayed burned in his memory.

Or maybe it was the first time you held his hand.

You were both nine, walking home from school during a sudden rainstorm. His tiny, battered umbrella barely covered both of you.

“Stop hogging the umbrella,” you grumbled, bumping his shoulder.

“You’re the one walking too far away,” he shot back, holding the umbrella out farther.

The rain kept splashing around your feet until you finally huffed, grabbed his hand, and tugged him closer.

“There,” you said firmly. “Now we both fit.”

Your fingers were cold but soft, perfectly fitting in his.

He still remembered the warmth that bloomed in his chest that day, though he didn’t have the words for it back then.

It could’ve been the day he accidentally stole your first kiss.

You were thirteen, sitting on the swings at the park near your family’s bookstore. The sky was streaked with the pinks and oranges of sunset, a lazy breeze tugging at your hair.

He was teasing you about something—he could never seem to help himself—leaning in just a little too close to get under your skin.

You turned your head at the wrong moment, and suddenly—your lips brushed.

It lasted less than a second, soft and unintentional, but time seemed to freeze.

He was the first to pull away, wide-eyed and red-faced.

“S-Sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks burning hotter than the summer air.

But then—you laughed. Soft. Genuine. Beautiful.

“It’s okay,” you said, still smiling, “it was an accident.”

Satoru thought… maybe he wanted more 'accidents' like that to keep happening.

Was it the day he asked you to be his girlfriend?

It had been late summer, the air warm and still. You two of you, both 16 now, were laying on the old picnic blanket near the edge of the park, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky.

His heart pounded in his chest, his usual confidence replaced by something far more vulnerable.

"Look," you started, pulling his attention away from your face and to the sky where you were pointing towards a random cloud. "It looks like a cat"

He squints, eyes adjusting to the bright sun. "It looks like a meatball"

You snorted. "Your imagination is broken."

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Satoru forced himself to say the words that have been bouncing around his head for the past few weeks.

“Hey…” he’d said softly, fingers brushing against yours. “Be my girlfriend?”

You’d turned to him, startled at first—but then you smiled, so bright and real it made his chest ache.

“Okay,” you’d whispered. “I will.”

His eyes widened. "You will?"

"Yes."

Before he could overthink it, he leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips pressed softly against yours.

He’d kissed you then—his first real kiss, soft and sure, filled with quiet promises he couldn’t put into words.

Or maybe… it was the day you left.

The day you told him you were moving to another city.

You had tried to smile through your tears, promising you’d keep in touch, that distance wouldn’t change anything—but life had a way of proving otherwise.

Calls faded. Messages stopped. The distance became more than just miles.

Or maybe… it was all the little moments in between.

The way you always tugged on his sleeve when you were excited. The way you laughed at his terrible jokes. The way you saw past his bravado—saw him in a way no one else ever had.

No.

It wasn’t one moment—it was all of them.

Every shared glance, every small touch, every whispered conversation under the stars.

Every second spent with you made him fall even more in love than he already was.

The sound of a passing car snapped Gojo out of his thoughts as he reached his apartment building. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

It was silly—pointless, really—to get stuck in memories like this. Years had passed. You were probably living a new life, far from here.

But still…

He glanced back down the street toward the coffee shop, a faint, wistful smile tugging at his lips.

Maybe fate wasn’t done with him yet.

Part 2