#loitering within tents

[berriethewizard]

let me lose on losing dogs - Hyrule Warriors fic

Sprout (oot/mm link) did not return from the latest battle, and Link heads out to find him. What he finds, instead, is something else. aka, obligatory Fierce Deity angst fic. Wordcount: 4102

(for more detailed description, or preferred reading location, ao3 link here)

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Captain Link Bennett, Observation Log, Date: 02/xx/1692

Sailor dropped Sprout off at our tent today. He was carried off the battlefield, awake but exhausted. Once I got him tucked in, Sailor then pulled me aside and detailed what I had missed in hushed tones – I’ve never seen him more serious. 

The Fierce Deity, Proxy managed to weasel out of Sprout. Sailor described him being possessed by it, the spirit seemingly locked inside that mask he carries. A powerful thing, decimating all that was in its path, the battlefield cleared within moments – the soldiers I asked confirmed what Sailor saw. The soldiers that weren’t caught up in the violence, that is. He also said the spirit seemed… reluctant to return Sprout to normal, afterward.  

Sprout seemed the same as ever once he was up again. Physically healthy, happily listening to Sailor and Midna talk around the campfire and eat his soup. But the kid is an expert at hiding what he wants nobody to see, and I know it hurts him. Nothing with that much power comes without cost. Nothing. 

He’s asleep in my bed right now, because neither of us would have anything different. Sailor is curled up in his own bedroll, snoring loudly. I suppose it’s time for me to crawl into the bed and get my own sleep, and see if he is willing to tell me more in the morning. Sailor said if he’d tell anyone, it’d be me. I really hope so. 

~

Couldn’t sleep. Tried to investigate the mask, because there was something about it keeping me up. It felt like flesh in my hands, for a split second. I will be asking Sprout about this in the morning. 

Goodnight – if I can manage it.

----

Sprout is missing. 

Link steps over the ruins of the latest battle. He had led the remaining weary soldiers of his platoon back to camp, sending each to their tents to recuperate. A few from the other groups had greeted them as the last to return. And then Ravio had loitered by his side, once the rest had passed to return to duties, and anxiously asked, “Sprout isn’t with you?” 

He steps over the body of something, a lump covered in the flag of the nation of Hyrule, and doesn't have the stomach to check if it was an ally. Doesn’t have the stomach to check if the meagre dignity of the tarp covering their corpse is a cruel symbol of anything, or a sign of their hollow victory. 

A lot of people died today. Good people. Honourable people. And, goddesses above, he hopes his boy isn’t among them. 

There was a part of Link that didn’t want to get close to those that were pulled through from the other eras. A group he knew would be leaving him, so why bother? Why set his heart up to be broken? But then he met them, more of them than those he met in their own domains. Those across the timeline that Lana deemed ‘useful’, their stories far behind his and yet affecting him profoundly – he couldn’t turn away. At first, it was in awe – the sailor, two heroic quests under his belt and many more smaller adventures in between, only sixteen years old. Ravio, someone who insisted he wasn’t brave, yet not only stepped up at every chance to aid them in other ways, but also did his best when caught up in the battle anyway. The tinkerer, and his mastery over a machine Link has never fathomed before in his life, seamlessly integrating his knowledge into that of the Gorons in their company, almost always guaranteeing their victory.

And Sprout. Brave, young Sprout. His Sprout.

When he had first met Sprout, something in him switched. Beyond the urge to rip shreds into Lana for willingly bringing a child into this horrific war, regardless of who that child was. (Which he did, for the record, in front of every one of his superiors. He still doesn’t know if they saw it as a conviction of values or an unwillingness to face his own fate in the matter.) For the first time since the valley: he was going to make it. Just to look after these people. Ravio and the tinkerer will have the resources they need to make what they want. Sailor will tell his stories and Link will learn the songs that come along with them. Sprout will get to be a kid. War be damned, destiny be damned, they will get to live their lives during, and after this. He will see it through (regardless of his broken heart at the end of it all).

Link steps over discarded weapons, limbs of friend and foe, sundered barricades and bomb craters. All the while, his eyes are trained to pick up a bright green among the dull of the land – a tunic way too small to be present in such a place, his own a mockery of it, dressed up for war. He skirts around a still smouldering pile of wood and ash in his path; the sky is clouded, but the rain has yet to dampen the carnage. Sprout wasn’t in his group – as much as it pains him to be unable to protect him, strategy dictates separating those with unique abilities to assist on different fronts – and he is crossing over into territory he didn’t fight in. It looks like everything else: ruined. 

But he knows something happened here. The soldiers retreated too early, joining his own ranks and those of Zelda and Impa’s – nothing on their lips but a frightened: “Something helpful arrived, but it can’t tell who’s the enemy.” When nothing followed them, neither monster nor this mysterious something, they wrote it off as a random portal-related phenomenon to be investigated after the dust had settled. But Sprout has not returned. And as Link walks through the ruins of the battlefield, he has a sinking, gut-churning suspicion as to why. 

“There’s some deal, or sick game, the spirit has with Sprout,” Sailor had murmured, tone severe, “It kept its claws in him for too long – like it didn’t want to give up the fight.”

Rounding the corner past a hill has him coming upon a massacre. 

Monsters’ bodies are slow to fade into smoke, sometimes. Especially when there are so many in such a small area. But the littering of monster corpses across the battlefield does not disguise the sheer amount of Hylian bodies. Nor does it distract from the oppressive presence of the figure standing in the middle of it. 

It stands over seven feet tall. Its armour shines under an invisible sun, gleaming brighter than should be possible – like it's not quite on this plane of existence. The large helix sword is idly resting in one hand; it weighs nothing in the warrior’s grip. Even with its back turned to him, Link feels as though its eyes are on him, weighing down upon his shoulders, a condemnation. A judgement.

And then it turns to meet his gaze, and that sick mockery of his kid’s face is staring back at him.

Link knew, of course, the resemblance. The shape of the hair, a cool white in place of soft blonde. The point of the nose, grown to fit a larger face. The same mouth and eyes, blankly staring instead of crinkling with a smile. And he knows the legends – he knows Sprout has seen his own adult face, forced to grow up too fast, and then back again without any say in his own autonomy. That’s precisely why it feels so wrong to have this… spirit match him in such a way. His visage twisted and into one used as a weapon, a cruel mirror of everything Sprout was forced to become under destiny.

Under the weight of its stare, Link’s voice falters. “W-where is he?” This is not Sprout. The spirit has taken him away, locked him up in a prison of his own body, breaking it to suit its needs.

The Deity just watches. Observing – Link feels like he’s being stripped back under its scrutiny, bare and vulnerable even in all his layers. His very soul is being witnessed, in this moment, ripped out of his chest and held in the balance; to be saved or shattered. He fears for the version of it Sprout holds.

He tries to ask again, voice small and meek and falling away from him. “...Where’s my son?” 

The Fierce Deity takes a step towards him. Adrenaline rushes through Link’s system, all-enveloping, immediately forcing him to take a step back. It cocks its head at the action. Takes another step. He desperately tries to resist the urge to flee, but he steps back again. A third step forward – Link forces his legs to still.

“Give- give him back!” His voice cracks, not used to raising it, Proxi woefully absent to do it in his stead (but he wouldn’t want her to see this spirit corrupt someone she is so fond of anyway). It stops then, still watching him, Link frozen against its gaze. It looks like it’s going to say something, and he waits with his breath held.

“Hero… you care for this vessel?” Its voice is in multiple tones, deep baritones clashing and echoing against a melody, almost surrounding him despite the single source. Once again, like it is not grounded to the earth. But it is not just the way it sounds, but the words itself that give him pause. 

Vessel… Sprout is a conduit to this spirit. It says it so impersonally, like his personhood doesn’t matter, only worthy as a tool. It’s sickeningly similar to everything else in their joint experience. Vessel of destiny. Holder of the triforce. Hero, not by choice, but by burden of prophecy. Someone coming along, pulling them into a war, because they will be useful. And questioning if, why, he cares for Sprout? How could he not? This bright, brave young boy, too much hurt in his past and too much ahead of him, once again treated like a tool before a child in this war – it is his responsibility to, not just because it is his fault that this is all happening in the first place, but because he wants it to be. Link lies awake each night, Sprout curled up against him in the bed, and hopes he feels a fraction of the love he’s trying to pour into him. He knows it won’t make up for everything else, but someone has to give it. He deserves it more than anyone.

The terror still grips his throat, but anger curls up against it; the longer it keeps using Sprout, the more it builds. 

“I-I do. And I want him back.” He isn’t above fighting. He isn’t above begging. He’ll do anything to ensure his kid’s safety, whether this spirit is that of a god’s or not. 

“This vessel wears my mask willingly.” The same stare, the same lack of emotion. The same disregard for Sprout as a person and his circumstances. Of course he does it ‘willingly’ – in the same way someone ‘willingly’ cuts their hand off to escape binds in captivity. He looks at the bodies strewn about the battlefield. Nobody chooses this. 

“And he should be allowed to take it off willingly.” Link stares back into the eyes of the Fierce Deity. As he tries to find even the smallest glimmer of Sprout within them, a tiny crumb of an inclination that there’s some resistance, it takes another step forward.

Then it rushes him.

Link doesn't have time to react. It moves fast, faster than possible, faster than any mortal could – all he can do is throw himself to the side in hopes of dodging the attack. It’s fruitless, but instead of a blade meeting his body, his arm is grabbed and squeezed. The Fierce Deity holds him in place and leans in, their faces inches apart, pure terror striking through Link’s veins as the overwhelming power of its presence bears down on him. 

Link stares into its face. The face that is Sprout’s but also so very not in the same breath, a face that is wrong and marked, a face he shouldn’t be seeing for many more years. (And isn’t that a thought? Getting to watch Sprout grow up? A fruitless fantasy, only possible in this one twisted moment.) Holds his breath, heart pounding in his chest, unable to do anything but stand held and wait for the spirit’s next move. 

It squeezes down harder on his arm, almost to breaking and definitely to bruising, like its next words are urgent. And they are. 

“Will you look after this vessel?” Its voice is faded and wispy. Instead of the harmonies of its power before, it's now a hush, a tremor in the land, fuzzy and distant. Like it's being pulled away somewhere. Like it’s losing its grip. 

“Y-yes, of course…?” Link stammers out, perplexed. 

“Good.” Suddenly, light pours out from the Fierce Deity’s eyes, forcing Link to close his own against it. Then, the grip on his arm slackens and disappears entirely – and Sprout’s small body is falling to the ground. 

Link reaches out to catch him immediately, body hitting his arms and sending him to his knees. Whether it’s just because of his weight, or that the oppressive force of the Fierce Deity is no longer present and his body is faltering as a result of the relief, he doesn’t know. He is shaking as he pulls Sprout closer to his chest.

He’s out cold, but breathing evenly. A collection of small cuts and bruises litter the skin Link can see, no doubt more underneath his tunic. There’s a slight stain of red in his bangs, and when Link brings a shaking hand up to push them back, he can see a half-congealed cut across his forehead. And that the roots of the front of his hair are white.

He glances down at where the mask now rests on the ground by his knees, and swallows a shaking, hollow breath.

Nothing without a cost.

Link pulls Sprout impossibly closer, trying so very desperately not to lose himself entirely in this moment. Waves of grief overtake him for a boy that still lives in his arms. Breathing evenly, simply asleep, protected by a spirit from the horrors around him when it became too much. But the cost… the cost of all of this. He shouldn’t even be here. Link is kneeling on a battlefield of his own creation, holding a child who shouldn’t even understand how to hold a sword. The twisting of fate sinks into his stomach like a knife – when he was Sprout’s age, he dreamed of being a hero.  A foolish one, he of course now knows, but at least he got to have that childhood of fairy tales before it was all ripped away. 

It’s been a mantra, in his head, this whole time. The little voice in his mind that sounds like himself as a child. It isn’t fair! it cries. A voice that mirrors Sailor’s after a bad nightmare, shaking and bitter. Midna’s raging through a tent stacked with crates, infuriated, curses throughout. Ravio’s after a harrowing day helping chase supplies to and from the infirmary, scared and exhausted. It isn’t fair! He’s never heard Sprout say it, and that quite possibly hurts him more than every inconsolable night holding him tight in their bed. Does he even know what is and isn’t fair, when so much of his life has been this? Does he know? How much better he could have it, if the world loved him enough?

The first raindrops fall in tandem with Link’s tears as he curls around Sprout’s unconscious body. He knows he should get up and start moving – it will do neither of them any good to stay shivering on the battlefield in the rain, and Sprout still needs medical care. But his legs are numb, unwilling to follow his commands, and the rest of him just wants to hold Sprout for a moment. Ignore the death and pain around him, and just… hold his son close to his chest. 

He knows his love isn’t enough, either, but he holds him anyway.

An hour later, soaked to the bone and finally stumbling back into camp, Sailor and Proxi are the ones that lead them to their tent. Link lost himself, in the chill of the weather, and he sits numbly on the floor watching Sailor wrap the cuts and scrapes on Sprout’s little body while Proxi flits about his head and frets. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to – Sailor took one look at the boy in his arms and his face turned to stone. On the walk back, the entire front of Sprout’s hair had turned white. 

When they’re both dry and tucked into bed, Sailor sinks to the floor cross-armed to lean against it. Link feels bad, how often it seems that Sailor is the one looking after him, even though he’s the older one. In many of the same ways he sees Sprout as his son, he sees Sailor as a little brother. Also more experienced beyond his age, also burdened in the same way he is, but keeping it all hidden behind a carefree and mischievous air. It’s only in moments such as this that Link faces how truly wise he is to all of this.

“Do you want me to take it? The mask. We can stop him from using it again – I’m pretty good at hiding things.” 

Link stares up at the tent ceiling. Hesitates. “Will you look after this vessel?” The Fierce Deity’s words echo in his mind. Was it self-preservation, that the spirit asked that of him? Was it the simple need to keep the tool that allows it freedom in working order? Or was there something more? Is there truly just a mutually beneficial deal here – Sprout winning any battle, and the Fierce Deity revelling in it – or is there something else fighting in his kid’s corner, however unorthodox?

The traitorous part of his mind is refusing to let go of how clearly powerful the mask is. The strategy of using it, this maybe-god trapped in a mask, as one of their strongest weapons against the darkness yet. Maybe if the burden was no longer on such a small body…

“We don’t have to hide it away. As long as Sprout is not the one using it—”

“Swapping the burden onto yourself won’t erase its weight.” 

Link’s thoughts halt in their tracks. Sailor doesn’t look back at him, silence hanging heavy in the tent, almost letting the words sink in. Then he groans, throwing his head back onto the bed. 

“Look at this, you got me talkin’ like the old boat, this is bullshit. I’m supposed to be the fun one, here,” he glances up at Link – staring back at him wide-eyed – and when it becomes apparent he doesn’t know what to say, Sailor sighs. “He doesn’t want you hurt just as much as you don’t want him hurt, you know that right? You’re not the exception to the rule here just because it’s your quest. We care about you, I care about both of you – and if I have to chuck that mask into the Great Sea just to stop it from bein’ used, I will.” 

He reaches out and gently clasps Link’s shoulder, squeezing it. Link still doesn’t say anything. His brain struggles to catch up with the conversation. It… doesn’t work like that, normally. It is his job to take on the burden. From the very moment he wrapped the scarf around his neck, it was his to carry.

But this is Sailor’s third time doing something like this, and a part of him does recognise that what Sailor is doing right now is exactly what he does for Sprout. Tries to take a little off his shoulders, soothe the worries and give him a carefree moment when he can. He doesn’t quite know how to feel about it. 

Sailor takes his silence for refusal to agree, and sighs again, before standing. “We’ll talk more about this later, when Sprout is awake again. For now, it’s time you took a good nap with the lad, alright?” 

Link takes it for the out it is and nods. Sailor reaches over and ruffles his hair, and he can’t help but scrunch his face up and huff. “Yknow, you’re supposed to be the younger brother, here,” Link jokes, trying to break the tension from the deep conversation, brief as it was. 

“What? No way! I’m the older brother back home, and that is not changing just because you happen to be older than me. I’m infinitely smarter and more cleverer than you, anyway.”

Link raises an eyebrow. “‘More cleverer,’ huh?” Sailor just crosses his arms again. 

“Whatever. I’m going to go get some food. Rest well, little bro.” 

Sailor leaves the tent and Link settles back into the pillow properly, taking a deep breath. Sprout snuffles faintly in his sleep, curling closer against him, and he turns onto his side so he can press him directly against his chest. Hold him, safe and warm.

Sailor mentioned back home. He tries not to think about it, most days. About how when the war ends, he’ll have to send everyone off back to their own eras. It hurts too much to imagine saying goodbye.

The grief returns tenfold now the dust has truly settled – Link pulls Sprout even closer to him. What is he going to do, when he has to say goodbye to Sprout? When he has to send his son back through that portal, never to see him again? He can feel the hole in his chest already. This war, there is no part of this that is fair to any of them. But…

No, Link doesn’t have an excuse. Just a small, selfish dream to watch his kid grow up while he’s there to love him through it. To watch him come into adult features naturally over time – the soft blonde hair, maybe grown out and tied back into a ponytail, to match Sailor’s braid. The point of his nose, perhaps in an awkward phase where it grows before the rest of his face grows to match it. Watch through the days as Sprout smiles and laughs and grins, wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes, instead of the indentations of a frown. 

Link can’t love him enough to replace the horrors of the world around him. But if he had a way to keep protecting him from some of it, take the burden and the loneliness off his shoulders, he’d do it in a heartbeat. 

He gets an idea.

“Hey, Proxi?” She flutters awake from her place on the pillow, paying attention. “Why do you follow me around? Do you have a… mission?”

The fairy hums, thinking for a moment. “It’s so I can help you! Give you a voice when you don’t have it during this war. I do also just like you a lot, though.” Link knows she also likes Sprout a lot, too.

“And, when the war is over? Is your mission over?”

“I suppose you could see it like that – unless you don’t want it to be? Why? Got a new one for me or something?”

“I do.” He looks down at Sprout. He mentioned, once, how he had a fairy of his own. The past tense of the conversation clearly upset him, and Link didn’t push for more. Link takes a deep breath, choking up at the mere concept of talking about this out loud. “Would you go with him, when the war ends? I can’t… I can’t look after him, when he goes back home. But you can go anywhere you want, right?” Tears water in his eyes again. A lump in his throat. “I don’t want him to be alone ever again. Please make it your mission to look after him, and protect him, when I no longer can.”

He sniffs, and Proxi comes to settle herself against his cheek. “Oh, Link… I will do my very best.” 

Link curls around Sprout, pushing his face into the top of his head – the white hair appearing against his eyes even as they’re closed – and tries to silence the sentence repeating over and over and over in his mind. 

It isn’t fucking fair…

He falls asleep like that, weight piled onto his shoulders, a hole of grief slowly cracking open in his chest. 

#hyrule warriors #legend of zelda #loz #hyrule warriors fanfic #berries writing

[bridgertonbabe]

Hi! Wonder if you could write about Sophie joining the family in Pall Mall. I love how you write Benophie ❤️

Ok so for this lil drabble Sophie is working for the Bridgertons and accompanies them for a week’s stay at Aubrey Hall. Francesca is being courted by John Stirling and the Bridgertons want to get to know him better by seeing how he fits in within the family.

Sophie had been enjoying her time at Aubrey Hall thus far. She much preferred the country air, not to mention being away from the London lessened her worry of bumping into Araminta. The Bridgertons were even more jovial than they normally were and it was nice to seem them all being a bit more relaxed in their ancestral country home. The only downside (to an extent) was that she still had to put up with Benedict’s constant presence, knowing he’d be loitering around the servants quarters and stairwell, feeling his eyes on her wherever she went, and even him “bumping into her” whenever she had some free time to take a leisurely stroll around the estate. He was inconveniencing her to no end, especially with how desperate she was to not arouse suspicion among his family about the nature of their relationship; and yet annoyingly she always felt disappointed when she didn’t run into him in the grounds of Aubrey Hall or if he wasn’t in the drawing room surrounded by his family trying to steal glances from her.  

Several days into the stay at Aubrey Hall, the party was enjoying the warm June weather with a picnic tent set up in the grounds. Sophie had been dragged into a stroll by Eloise and Hyacinth, with each of them linked arm in arm with her as they wittered away about how besotted the Earl of Kilmartin was with their sister. As they began making their way back towards the picnic, Colin came bounding up to them with an eager expression on his face.

“We’ve just got the earl to agree to a game of Pall Mall!” he announced jubilantly. 

Eloise and Hyacinth gasped with delight in response and Sophie found it incredibly endearing just how excited the Bridgerton siblings got at the prospect of the lawn game. 

“Who else is playing?” Eloise enquired as Colin walked back with them.

“Frannie will be participating of course, as will Ben; look, they’re already setting up the wickets now.” he remarked and Sophie looked over to see Benedict plunging a wicket into the ground whilst keeping an eye on where Francesca was placing another. “Our eldest brother and sister will not be participating however,”

“Oh, what a relief!” Eloise sighed exasperatedly. “They always take the game far too seriously.” she elaborated for Sophie’s benefit.

“As if you don’t.” Colin snorted before receiving a sharp elbow to the side from his slighted sister. 

“So it’ll just be the six of us?” Eloise asked. 

“Oh!” Hyacinth gasped, her eyes round with what Sophie recognised was the youngest Bridgerton sibling forming a bright idea. “Why don’t you join us, Sophie?” 

Sophie certainly hadn’t been expecting such an invitation and was flabbergasted into a pregnant pause, which Eloise jumped in to fill.

“Yes!” Eloise’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, it’ll be so much fun to have you join us, Sophie!”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Sophie hesitated - she had heard plenty of stories over the last few days about the long Bridgerton history of Pall Mall, and there had been no mention of any member of staff being allowed to partake in the game. “I wouldn’t wish to intrude,”

“Nonsense!” Colin waved off. “We’d love to have you join in!”

As lovely as the Bridgertons had been to her since she had joined their household, their constant enthusiasm to include her all the time was becoming a slight problem. She knew they meant well in being so welcoming to her but this preferential treatment was starting to alienate her from the rest of the staff. The other maids ignored her, a few members of senior staff had given her the cut when passing by her, and the head cook flat out refused to serve her a plate of food that she had served to every other servant in the kitchens. She had heard all of their whisperings, none of them even trying to be discreet as they questioned what was so special about her. A lot of the staff had cottoned on that Sophie had received a far greater education than any of them had done, all of them knowing she had a dubious background, and she was sure rumours had been circulated as a result. Truly, it wasn’t anything Sophie wasn’t already used to, having spent her whole life straddling the social classes and never truly belonging or fitting in with either one. 

Still, Sophie didn’t want any more glares being sent her way from the people she worked with because of how she was treated by the family they worked for. She had tried in the last couple of weeks to excuse herself from tea with the Bridgerton ladies, insisting she had chores to attend to, but that had massively backfired when Eloise had requested another maid perform the duties Sophie had stated instead, which had only caused more bad blood from the other members of staff. Even when Sophie was successful in keeping away from the Bridgertons, Hyacinth and Francesca still sought her out in the servants quarters to openly invite her to get ice cream with them. As for the way Benedict shamelessly tracked her down and lacked any care for propriety when his family weren’t about even if the household staff were... well, it really was no wonder why the rest of the servants didn’t care for Sophie. 

“I couldn’t.” Sophie said, politely declining the offer to join them. “I have some mending,”

“Oh you always have some mending to be doing!” Hyacinth groaned and rolled her eyes. “We’ve already told you, Sophie; we don’t care about the mending getting done. Mending isn’t your priority. Your number one priority is keeping me company!” she declared with a self-satisfied grin. 

“I’m sure you have more than enough company with all of your siblings.” Sophie pointed out, still desperate to worm her way out of participating in the game. 

“But I much prefer your company, Sophie!” Hyacinth argued.

“Charming.” Colin remarked jovially. 

“Oh please do join us, Sophie!” Eloise insisted. “We can form an alliance!” 

“Um, excuse me! If anyone’s going to form an alliance with Sophie, it’s going to be me!” Hyacinth glared at her sister.

“Or if you’d prefer, you can form an alliance with me.” Colin smirked before his younger sisters began quarreling with him.  

It was hard to get a word in edge-ways, as Sophie tried in vain to opt out of playing with the siblings, but there seemed to be no way out of it. They were so determined to have her join them and in spite of how much she didn’t want to drive an even bigger wedge between herself and the other servants, she couldn’t find it in her to be bluntly rude to the generosity of the Bridgertons. It was only as they got closer to the picnic tent that Sophie observed John the footman nearby and an idea popped into her head.

“I do hope I’m not overstepping, but would you possibly allow John to join the game as well?”

This silenced the three Bridgertons immediately and even caused them to ground to a halt. “The footman, John?” Hyacinth puzzled. 

She had managed to perturb them with her request and Sophie was sure she had crossed the line in being too comfortable and familiar with them to even dare ask such a question.

“I apologise. I understand that’s asking too much,” Sophie began to fret.

“Not at all - in fact, I think that’s a capital idea!” Colin enthused. “Allow me to go fetch him.” 

Before Sophie knew it, Colin had taken off, bypassing his family to approach a rather taken aback John. 

“What’s going on?” Francesca asked as she appeared by them, having just posted the last of her wickets. 

“Sophie’s going to play with us!” Hyacinth declared.

“And Colin’s asking John the footman to join us too.” Eloise added, nodding over to where Colin was clapping the young man on the back and beginning to guide him over. 

“I see.” Francesca remarked and looked back to Sophie with a shrewd glimmer in her eyes. “I didn’t realise you had struck up a friendship with him.”

“He’s been ever so nice.” Sophie replied truthfully; apart from Mrs Wilson, he was the only other member of staff who talked to her, and the only one who talked to her about things unrelated to their work. 

“Oh.” Eloise uttered in a quieter tone. “Have you... taken a fancy to John?”

Sophie hadn’t been expecting that line of enquiry but had no time to provide an answer as Colin and John descended upon them, as did Benedict and the earl, the former of which hauled with him eight mallets. 

After the mallets were selected (with Francesca nabbing “the mallet of death” much to the rest of her siblings’ chagrin), Colin quickly explained the game to Sophie and John before play commenced. 

As the first couple of rounds passed, Sophie and John stuck together as they got a feel for the game as well as the gameplay that the Bridgertons were partaking in. After a single round the bickering had begun, with Hyacinth accusing Eloise of cheating, all the while the earl looked on in bewilderment. 

“I’m starting to understand why you wanted some companionship for this game.” John remarked to Sophie in amusement after Francesca sent Colin’s ball flying down a hill. 

The two servants stuck together for quite a while, both ensuring they never knocked their respective ball too far away from the other’s. Sophie thought they’d probably make it through the entire game without being separated - but then suddenly John’s orange ball was knocked down the hill after being collided with the green ball. As John followed after his ball, Sophie exhaled as she heard footsteps approaching, knowing who the green ball belonged to and who she’d have to endure the company of until it was her turn. 

“I must say, my aim’s been a bit off today.” Benedict said breezily when he came shoulder to shoulder with her, their balls sitting parallel in front of them. “I hate to disturb your conversation, especially with how cozy you looked.” 

Sophie rolled her eyes when she heard the thinly-veiled jealousy in his voice. He had been watching her throughout most of the game, catching sight of him frowning over whenever she glanced at him and feeling his heavy stare on her even when she wasn’t looking at him. She heavily suspected his lagging in the game was all to do with keeping an eye on her, as she and John were trailing behind on purpose, and of course his ball knocking into John’s had nothing to do with a bad aim; it had been aimed perfectly she was sure of it. 

“My sisters are of the belief that you and Ron share a fancy for one another.” he continued, trying to goad a response out of her with bitterness lacing his words. 

“Stop being childish; you know his name is John.” she called him out right away. 

“I do apologise. I didn’t realise John meant that much to you.” he sneered. 

“So having basic common respect in correctly stating a person’s name equates to said person being of importance to oneself?” she shot back. 

“Why else were you so eager for him to join us?” he enquired. “Hm? No other member of staff joins us for lawn games.”

“And yet your family insisted I partake.” she countered. “Why shouldn’t lawn games be open to the rest of the servants?” 

Colin then yelled from up ahead that it was Sophie’s turn, and without a second for Benedict to respond to her, she whacked her ball forward, sending it through a wicket. She marched on up ahead, annoyed with Benedict for having the audacity to be annoyed with her or John. 

“You could have requested Mrs Wilson join us.” Benedict piped up, startling her in the process by rejoining her.

“You cannot follow after me!” she hissed, darting her gaze about to check if anyone had noticed him trail after her. 

He shrugged uncaringly. “There’s no rule to say I can’t leave my ball and return to it when my turn comes about.” 

“What will others think when they see you leaving your ball behind in favour of talking to me?” she challenged him, hoping to use his sensitivity of what others think about him against him. 

Annoyingly, he shrugged again, completely unfazed. “They’ll simply think I’m keeping you, as a first-time Pall Mall player, company. Probably assume that we’re discussing the game. Which we are.” 

“We are not.”

“On the contrary. The last thing I asked was why you didn’t ask Mrs Wilson to join us instead of Ron.”

“John.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Surely you’ve known Mrs Wilson long enough to know she wouldn’t wish to partake in such a game.” Sophie pointed out - if Mrs Wilson wasn’t such a no-nonsense character, Sophie would have asked her straightaway to join in, but as the Dowager Viscountess’s lady’s maid was currently sat with her mistress and the other matrons, it would have been a fruitless effort. 

“Well why not ask one of the other maids to partake?” Benedict continued. 

“Because I am not liked by them.” she snapped back - and then realised her slip-up. 

Benedict’s irritated frown immediately transformed into an mixed expression of confusion and compassion. “Why should they not like you?” 

“It’s nothing.” Sophie waved off. “I am simply new.” she reasoned and looked off to the rest of the players, hoping Benedict wouldn’t think any further on the subject. 

“Are they mistreating you?” 

Sophie’s head snapped back due to this line of enquiry. Benedict now looked incensed, his grip on his mallet tightening with precursory anger. 

“No, no, no. Not at all.” she insisted. “They have treated me fairly.” 

“I don’t think it fair of them if they do not like you.” 

“Benedict, please. I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have.”

“Trouble?” 

Sophie wanted to smack herself for putting her foot in it even more. 

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” Benedict stated. “My mother and sisters all adore you. You’re a conscientious member of staff who always works hard,”

“Ben,”

“So I don’t see how you could be perceived as trouble. Far from it. If you need me to have a word,”

“Benedict; don’t. I beg of you!” she pleaded.

“I will if they’re making you feel bad,” he insisted, shooting a glare over his shoulder in the direction of the picnic tent where various servants hovered about. 

“Your family thinks too highly of me!” she exclaimed and regained his attention. 

“And what on earth is wrong with that?” Benedict retorted, raising a quizzical brow. 

“Believe me, I am grateful for their compassion and generosity, Ben; but being allowed to take tea with your family, your sisters inviting me to the ice cream parlour, the way I have been welcomed with open arms after such a short amount of time... it’s left the staff baffled and as a result they resent me for such preferential treatment.” she explained with a wavering voice. “Your family have been ever so lovely to me and I do greatly appreciate it, but it’s setting me apart from the rest of the household. I do not blame them for their dislike towards me - nor do I blame your family at all - but I assure you, I am more than capable of enduring the ill regard.”

“Sophie,” Benedict breathed softly, the hardened look on his face long gone and instead he gazed at her with utter sympathy. 

“Ben!” Hyacinth wailed off in the distance. “Your turn!”

Benedict flared his nostrils, annoyed that the game at hand was detracting him from his conversation with her. He retreated back to his ball and sent it flying off much further ahead of Sophie’s, and yet instead of following after his ball, he once again came to stand beside her. 

“You shouldn’t have to put up with the resentment of others, Sophie.” he informed her, clearly having used the time it took to have his turn to think on what to say. “Not when you treat everyone else around you with the utmost kindness and consideration.” 

“It’s fine, Ben,”

“No it isn’t.” he argued. “You shouldn’t have to put up with the rest of the staff treating you like that.”

“There is nothing to be done about it. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“But you shouldn’t have to deal with it at all.”

Sophie didn’t have it in her to argue with him, not when it would be yet another iteration of a point she had already made that would lead to them arguing in circles. They stewed in silence for a moment, Sophie gazing off at the rest of the game while Benedict solely gazed at her. 

“You wouldn’t have to put up with this, you know.” he spoke up after a few minutes. “Not if you accepted my offer,”

“Ben.” she bit out, immediately furious that he would raise a matter that she had already firmly shut down, not to mention alluding to such an offer while they were in the midst of his family. 

“You would never have to deal with their judgments,”

“Your ignorance truly knows no bounds, does it?” she sniped. “If I agreed to such an offer the judgments would certainly not cease. You forget that servants know everything that goes on behind closed doors and their judgment would increase tenfold if they knew I had agreed to such a scandalous compromise. I’ve already told you that I could never be a kept woman - now don’t you ever raise the subject again.” 

“Sophie,” he huffed, thoroughly displeased that she was still adamant in her stance.

“Incoming!” came a yell and the pair looked up to see a pink ball soaring through the air, heading straight towards them. 

Sophie tugged Benedict out of the way and the pink ball descended, colliding with the green ball and knocking it further back in the course. 

“Sorry about that!” the Earl of Kilmartin called out as he made his way over to them. “That was Colin’s handiwork! Apparently I was on the verge of overtaking him!”

“Not your fault!” Benedict replied, plastering a friendly smile on his face in spite of the discontent his and Sophie’s conversation had previously brought upon him.

“You’d better stay with your ball.” Sophie suggested pointedly to him as the earl drew closer. 

Her eyes met his sharply and he threw a pinched look at her before grabbing a hold of his mallet and striding away. 

“Enjoying the game?” the earl asked as he sidled up next to her. 

“Indeed I am, my Lord.” she replied civilly, even though it was a blatant lie. 

John Stirling looked to her and then sneaked a glance behind them to where her previous companion was currently staring fixatedly at her, oblivious that he was being observed. 

“I do hope you weren’t being bothered.” the earl remarked as he returned his gaze up ahead at the game. 

“Bothered?” Sophie, lost in her own thoughts, was surprised by the nobleman’s line of questioning. 

“Miss Beckett,” the earl addressed her, surprising her with his formality to not just refer to her by her Christian name, “I hope you don’t mind me offering up my opinion, but I can’t help having noticed any time I have paid a visit to Miss Francesca that should you be attendance, Mr. Bridgerton coincidentally always makes himself present.” 

Sophie was left dumbstruck that the earl had clocked Benedict’s rather indiscreet pursuit of her since they had arrived in town. With the earl calling on Francesca most days, Sophie had grown accustomed to chaperoning the pair, and as the earl had correctly stated, Benedict typically joined the trio in the drawing room but paid no attention to his sister nor Francesca’s suitor. The earl could have been cavorting with Francesca on the opposite divan for all the second eldest Bridgerton brother knew; Benedict was entirely focused on Sophie and Sophie alone during those visits.

“I’m well aware of the predatory nature of certain gentlemen, and with just how fondly Francesca thinks of you, I should hate to think you are on the receiving end of any sort of harassment.” 

“Oh, no, no, no, my Lord.” Sophie shook her head frantically. “No, no; Bene - Mr. Bridgerton isn’t like that at all, I assure you.” she insisted - as much of a nuisance as Benedict had been since they arrived in town, he had never been untoward with her, with Sophie being a willing participant in any kisses they might have shared during this time. 

“Are you quite sure?” the earl enquired carefully. “Just because you work for the family, doesn’t mean you should feel obliged to,”

“Pardon me, my Lord, but I don’t feel obliged to do... anything outside of the perimeters of my job role.” she told him. “Mr. Bridgerton... he means no harm, truly. You have nothing to be concerned with.”

The earl nodded slowly, not fully taking her word, or at least possessing some curiosity for the nature of her relationship with the second eldest Bridgerton brother. 

“I understand.” the earl eased. “However, should you be under any duress by any member of the household, should you share your concerns with me, I will see fit to right any issues.” 

Sophie was rather surprised by the earl’s considerate offer, never having thought a man of his ranking would care in the slightest for the well being of a maid - after all, Sophie’s father never had. 

“Thank you, my Lord.” 

“And if I may be at liberty to say, Miss Becket, should I win the approval of Miss Francesca’s family, I intend to ask her for her hand in marriage, and should she accept, I expect she would be eager to keep you as her lady’s maid. The role would be yours without a shadow of a doubt, and of course should you be suffering from any pests in London or here in Kent, rest assured they would no longer be a problem all the way up in Scotland.” 

Sophie was once again left floored by the earl’s offer. She really hadn’t thought that far along in terms of work. Before Benedict brought her to London with him, she had convinced herself she’d only work for his family until she found a household role elsewhere - the only stumbling block was her love for Benedict. As infuriating as he was, she doubted she could be without him, and even if she had to part ways, she would be in a state of torture for the rest of her life. She knew there really was no other option; she would have to suffer such a torture in spite of her own heart. There was no future for her and Benedict, try as hard as she might to hold onto some tiny glimmer of hope that he could ever love her publicly and make her his wife. She supposed the offer of working as Francesca’s lady’s maid when she undoubtedly became the new Countess of Kilmartin would be for the best, seeing as she had fallen in love with Benedict’s family as much as she had fallen in love with him. In a way she could still cling onto a small part of the man she loved, and even glimpse him at future Bridgerton family gatherings - even if it meant watching him marry a woman of his own rank and start a family. It would be a burdensome pain, but one Sophie knew would be inevitable as soon as Benedict had asked her to become his mistress. She knew in that moment he would never see her as his wife and now she supposed working for Francesca in Scotland would be the best way to cut her losses. 

The game continued and Sophie ended up on the outskirts of the woods overlooking the lake after the mallet of death had sent her ball off of the course. Sophie was enjoying the serene view of the lake as a mother goose tended to her goslings, when a ball landed nearby. As soon as she noted the colour, she prepared herself for who was about to appear once more. 

“Bloody mallet of death.” she heard him mutter as he approached, and then Benedict was near her once more. 

As soon as he noticed her, his face soured even more and he turned his back to her, staring off at the lake, sulking petulantly after once again being rejected by her. Sophie didn’t care for his avoidance, considering she had planned to give him the silent treatment. A few minutes passed by in stiff silence, and when the mute tension was finally broken, Sophie wasn’t shocked by who had been unable to keep quiet for so long. 

“It’s a shame about the lake.” Benedict said out of nowhere, keeping his back to her. 

Though she didn’t want to converse with him, she was confused by his non-sequitur. “What do you mean?” she found herself asking. 

“I know you prefer your lakes to have men bathing in them.” 

Sophie was suddenly incredulous with rage and wanted to knock him around the head with her mallet, when someone called out for her to take her turn. She moved her foot among the foliage she was stood in, which resulted in her ball being unsettled and rolling down the slight incline towards the lake by itself. It rolled down until it came to rest by Benedict’s ball - and Sophie realised without her mallet contacting the ball that her turn was still in play. 

She followed after the ball, walking past Benedict, and then a wicked thought entered her head. She parked herself by the two balls, lined up her shot to make Benedict think she was aiming at her ball; and then crashed her mallet into the green ball. Benedict’s ball went flying into the air and splashed into the middle of the lake, and with that a loud cheer went up from the rest of the party. 

“I’ll have you know,” Sophie said as she looked back to a gaping Benedict, “I prefer my lakes to contain the essence of a man’s defeat.” 

She grinned victoriously at him and was then met by the rest of the players, with Colin declaring her the winner, not for having gotten her ball through the last wicket, but for getting one over on Benedict, which according to the Bridgertons was the Pall Mall spirit. They all returned to the picnic tent where Sophie was celebrated for her win, and for a moment she pretended as if she were being congratulated as a member of their family, as their sister, as Benedict’s wife... 

She quickly grounded herself, reminding her heart that her dreams could never be, and she decided to distract herself by clearing up the wickets of the course. Eloise, Francesca, and Hyacinth were too wrapped up in narrating the entirety of the match to Lady Danbury to notice that the lady’s maid (who they insisted on keeping close at hand at all times) sneaking away from them. 

Sophie was joined by John the footman, having cottoned on to what she was trying to do and wanting to assist. They made hearty conversation as they packed up the wickets, with John hyping her win up and keeping good company. As they reached the wickets furthest afield, John decided to take the ones they had already collected back to the shed, leaving Sophie alone - or so she thought. 

“I’m surprised he didn’t take the opportunity to steal a kiss from you.”

Sophie jumped, dropping the wicket she had just retrieved, and turned to find Benedict leaning against a tree on the outskirts of the woods. In retrospect, she realised he had never accompanied them back to the tent and had probably stayed in the same spot where she had left him mulling things over. 

“Perhaps Ron doesn’t have a fancy for you after all.”

“You are a grown man.” she reminded him. “Being petty and misnaming John isn’t going to win anyone over.” 

“So you’d rather be with him?” Benedict childishly retorted. 

“I have never once said I regard him in such a way, you fool!” she argued back. “Believe me, it would be far easier if I loved him instead of...”

She trailed off when she realised what she had just inferred and naively she hoped he hadn’t been paying any attention; but of course he had been. A smug smile began creeping up on his face, the corner of his lips pinching up, a knowing glint in his eye as he began to approach her. 

“So between Ron and I,”

“John.” she trilled in exasperation for his continued pettiness. 

“- who would you rather be with?” he asked, coming to a stop once they were toe to toe, and Sophie was glad that they were out of sight of the house and everyone else from where they currently stood. 

“Ben, stop being ridiculous.” she sighed though her gaze now locked in with his. 

“I’ll only stop when you give me an answer.” he countered, brushing a few loose locks out of her face and tucking them behind her ear, his touch setting off sparks within her. 

“Why must you be like this?” she huffed, but did nothing to back away from him. 

“Give me an answer, and I’ll stop.” he reiterated, his face drawing closer to hers, his lips inches from hers as her own mind longed to give in to the temptation of him. 

“Ben...” she uttered softly, feeling his breath tickle her lips. 

“Sophie.” he replied, parroting her tone. 

As much as she wanted to deny him, to push him away, to tell him the opposite of what he wanted to hear just to keep him at arm’s length, she knew she didn’t have the strength. Benedict Bridgerton was her weakness, no matter how hard she tried to resist. 

“I’d rather be with you.” she answered him finally, like her choice was ever in doubt. “I will always want to be with you.” she confessed in addition as her heart took over and consumed her sensible mind. 

And as a reward for being honest, Benedict’s lips pressed against hers and she melted into him, savouring the kiss as best she could, contemplating the fact that some day soon she would most likely be travelling off to Scotland to start a new life in Kilmartin seeing after Francesca. 

“You could always be with me, Soph.” he breathed against her. “If you so chose to.”

As romantic as it sounded, she knew what he meant by that, and it had nothing to do with being his wife. She refused to settle for any less, no matter how much she loved him with all her heart. She would always want more, always want all of him; and he had made it clear he could never provide her with that. 

“You know how the thought of me having a fancy for John has irritated you so?” she enquired, stilling him against her. “How could you expect me to see you married one day while I’m nothing but your kept woman?” 

She looked into his eyes, where sadness reflected back at her, and she gave him one last kiss before extracting herself from him and walking away. 

#asks #requests #benophie drabble #bridgerton drabble #pall mall #benedict x sophie #sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton #benophie #sorry for the wait

[aercascade]

Tented Market - Scrapbook

These are some more rougher photos, taken of the Tented Market before it's closure on the 31st of August 2017.

On a beautiful sunny day in 2017 I decided to visit the Tented Market for 1 last time before it's closure.

It had a special place in my heart as when I was a young child I remember my parents taking me here, it was a different time back then. The Tented Market was alive and well. The thriving market was a bastion for local businesses.

The pristine white roofs were well kept, bright and followed a theme of the town centre. It wasn't the only place to feature such decor, but over time it had been changed.

As the town of swindon grew, the Tented Market remained much the same. It was home to great local businesses but they could not survive against the competitors.

The council invested more into the Brunel Centre, and times changed; the local stores within this once welcoming structure could no longer compete. It was a time capsule still standing but barely.

Even outwardly, they had to remind people the place was still open. Signs were plastered all over the building. An attempt to save the doomed building.

It was clear that those left in this place still actively loved and appreciated the Tented Market. Unfortunately. It did little to save it.

What used to be a grand entrance to the Tented market, had nothing to advertise itself as a bustling store. It's no wonder they needed signs to remind the passersby that the place was still open.

At the staircase to one of the main entrances. It was so neglected, not even the typical unsavoury type had any desire to loiter here. It was that empty.

The placard sign commemorated the market being open for a grand total of 22 years. It's one reason why the closure of the Tented Market hit me.

There are definitely older shopping centres in Swindon. Though that's discrediting what the Tented Market was before this was built in 1994.

Obviously, this was well before my time. I have no photographs of the Tented Market in any other state.

Unfortunately I took 1 photograph of the Tented Market map. I wish I took more photographs of the Tented Market, but 2017 “me” was a bit more afraid of taking pictures inside businesses.

This map wasn't even accurate, there are more businesses that were on there than there should be. Ouch.

In one of the many empty shop spaces I saw a "SAVE OUR TENT MARKET" poster. One of many attempts to spare the market from closure.

Left, you can see the remains of the comic shop. On the right I can't remember what it was. At the only used entrance you could see 2 of the last remaining shops in the Tented Market.

In 2013 when I was still attending college I visited this place for lunch. At this time it was clearly on its way out but the Tented Market had it's share of visitors.

You could walk in here and smell the exotic food. I can say it was pretty good. At the time of this photo, it was nothing. Just an empty stall and a reminder of what was lost.

They still kept the bench and chair used by the very few customers who would wait for their order... yes. When I was at college it was the very chair I sat on waiting for my chicken wrap. Nothing had changed in that time.

It was still advertising the same menu available in 2013, Eggelicious was only a recent move. Setting sights on a new offering opening up in the Brunel Centre...

The Brunel Centre in this year (2017) was undergoing a drastic renovation to one of the interior corridors. They opened it up into a designated food hall. It seemed at this time Eggelicious decided to finally abandon the Tented Market and instead opt for the much newer food court instead.

Included is the photograph of them building the escalator to the new food hall still in progress.

I found some stickers that had accumulated on the door, A time capsule. Including a sticker that read "Never Trust a Hipster"

Here is a collection of empty doors, empty stores. Much appears the same.

For a time I can remember there existing an American Candy store. I can't say I'm surprised they didn't take off. The drink I had was so sugary and expensive... I'll stick to European snacks I think.

They still tried to get people on board. I hadn't taken note of what that sign said until today... I mean if they're still offering up a commercial space for £20 a week. I'd be down to set up a photography shop.

That's not half bad... if you ignore the fact this place is dead. Also not opening ever again.



That is the end of the Tented Market. There are whispers here and there of redevelopment. Like much of Swindon it's destined to become something else.

Something mid. That is.

That isn't all I have to show of Swindon. There are far more parts of the it to be documented!

~ Aercascade

#swindon #urban #photography #uk #urban decay

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

Journeying Towards Canaan (Numbers 9-10)

The stay at Sinai was ending. The time had come for the beginning of the march towards the promised land. Pauses in life are necessary. The tarrying at Sinai was not loitering on the way. It was part of the will and plan of God for the people. They stopped there at God’s command, that they might receive revelations and instructions. At Sinai the law was given. There they received also the tabernacle with its furniture and all its equipment for worship. There the great system of feasts and all the ritual of religious life were promulgated.

The year spent at Sinai was therefore not a lost year. It was a year spent with God in necessary preparation for the beginning of national life. Activity is not the only duty in true living; sometimes it is quite as essential that we wait with God as that we work for Him. Youth must take time for growth and for education, before entering upon active tasks and duties. We need to get acquainted with God, to learn our relation to Him, to know His will for us and our duty to Him before entering His service in a public way.

Some people chafe when they are interrupted in their progress, kept waiting when they want to hasten on. But the pauses in life, when they come in Providential guidance, are as fruitful of good and blessing as the hours of most strenuous activity. Night is not a wasteful mistake in the ordering of time. Sleep is not self-indulgence. The hour of devotion at the beginning of the day is not lost time. Stopping for meals does not keep us back in our day’s schedule. “Prayer and provender hinder no man’s journey.”

Some pauses in life are forced. The busy man in his busiest season is stricken with illness and has to drop all his pressing work and be shut up in a sick-room. But he need not fret. The days of illness are not meant to be lost. If rightfully accepted and used they do not set us back in our life. We have to grow spiritually, and we may grow more in a week or a month in a darkened room, suffering pain than in a year of free, unhindered life in the world.

Sinai was not therefore an interruption on the way to the promised land; it was a preparation, a help. But at length the time came for going on. Here the people are receiving their instructions for the march. They would need guidance, for there was no great highway to follow. Their route lay through a wilderness. They would be Divinely led every step of the way. “Whenever the cloud lifted from above the Tent, the Israelites set out; wherever the cloud settled, the Israelites encamped. At the LORD’s command the Israelites set out, and at his command they encamped. As long as the cloud stayed over the tabernacle, they remained in camp. Whether by day or by night, whenever the cloud lifted, they set out. Whether the cloud stayed over the tabernacle for two days or a month or a year, the Israelites would remain in camp and not set out; but when it lifted, they would set out.”

We do not seem to have any such guidance in our lives. That is, we have no pillar of cloud or fire to lift and go before us when we are to go forward, to settle down when we are to stay our steps, and to rest over us when we are to keep still and do nothing, whether it be for two days, or a month, or a year. There come times to many of us when we would like to have just such guidance, when our hearts cry out to have some unmistakable leading, when we should be freed from the responsibility of having to decide certain questions for ourselves.

Is there anything now in place, of this wonderful supernatural guidance which the Israelites had in their journeys? There certainly is nothing which our eyes can see. The Incarnation was the coming of God into the world in a human life, and now there is no longer any need for the forms of Divine revealing that were used before Christ came. Yet the New Testament assures us of Divine leading in these Christian days, just as real and as unmistakable as was the leading of Israel in the wilderness.

Part of the care of the Good Shepherd for His sheep, is their guidance. “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.” Jesus led His own disciples while He was with them, answered their questions, told them what they should do, was their real Companion in their journeys, helped them over the rough, dangerous places and through the dark ways. There is no doubt about the guidance of our Master’s personal friends while He was with them.

But when He left them, they seemed to have no leading, no way of finding the road. They were like a company of orphan children, in the sad days after His death. They did not know what to do or where to go. They were timid and afraid. When they met together they locked the door for fear of enemies. But Jesus had assured them that He would be absent only a little while and would soon be with them again.

When at the last supper, Thomas asked Him about the way to the place where He was going, and how they could know the way, Jesus answered: “I am the way.” He Himself would be their guide. We are sure, therefore, that the friends of Christ will be led through all this world’s tangled paths just as unmistakably as if they had a visible pillar going before them.

We have the guidance of the Holy Spirit who will lead us from within, filling our hearts with wisdom, enlightening oar eyes and making the way plain. We have the guidance of the Word of God which is a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path. We have Providential guidance. Life is full of God. He is in all events and circumstances. We talk about the strange way in which things happen, working out good for us. Only, really, things do not happen nothing just happens. Everything is under God’s all wise providential control.

We need not ever seek guidance in vain God is everywhere, and He is ready always to show us the way if we want to find it, if we truly seek it, and if we are willing to take it.

The trouble is we often do not want to take God’s way. When the pillar settles down we are not ready to pitch our tent but want to push on. Or when the cloud lifts to lead on we are not ready to go forward, at least to go the way it moves. We are too often more willing to hear some earthly guidance than the heavenly. In His parable, Jesus said of the sheep that they know the shepherd’s voice and follow him but will not follow a stranger, for they know not the voice of strangers. We may always hear the Good Shepherd’s voice if we will, and may always have heavenly guidance in all the ways of our earthly life.

It is well for us to have our hearts so sensitive towards God, that we shall always recognize the leading He would give us. It is a lofty privilege to have in our earthly life, heavenly guidance. Dr. Peabody, of Harvard University, tells of watching a vessel lying becalmed on a glassy bay. There was not a breath of air to fill the sails. While the men were waiting and watching, however, they noticed that the little pennant, far up on the masthead, began to stir and lift. There was still not a ripple down on the water, nor the faintest moving of the air on the deck but when they saw the pennant’s stirring they knew that there was a wind rising in the higher air, and they quickly spread the upper sails; and instantly the vessel began to move under the power of the upper currents, though on the surface of the water there was still a dead calm.

The incident suggests something like this also in common life. There are lower and higher currents. There are influences that are only earth-born, and there are currents that blow down out of heaven from God. There are friendships that offer guidance which would lead us only along low plains; and there are friendships which would lift us up towards God, and whatever things are true and noble. Too many people set only the lower sails and catch only the winds that blow on earthly levels. But if we would get the Divine guidance, we must catch the upper currents ; that is, put our lives under heavenly influences.

We may do this by abstaining from evil companionships not walking in the counsel of the wicked, nor standing in the way of sinners, nor sitting in the seat of scorners. We may do it by choosing for our companions and friends only those who are godly, by living in the atmosphere of holiness. If we walk with God we shall ever be where the upper currents blow, and we shall always be in the way where God will lead us.

Very beautiful is the prayer in one of the Psalms: “Cause me to know the way wherein I should walk.” This prayer we may make every morning as we go out for the day, and our prayer will be answered if it is sincere. We need, too, to make the prayer, for we cannot find the way ourselves. There is no morning when we do not need to make it, for even the day when the path seems plainest may have its experiences of peril. The guidance may come when we think it has not come, and the bit of hard path which it seems to us certainly cannot be the answer to our prayer may indeed be God’s very way for us.

The cloud may sometimes rest for weeks or months when we think it ought to lift and lead on; still it is all right. No movement really takes us forward unless God leads on. No resting ever retards our progress if it is God’s will that we should rest. All our guidance is hour by hour, step by step. The cloud showed the people only a little bit of the way at once, and any moment might settle down. So our guidance is only a step at a time.

In the story of Hobab, we have an illustration of the human part in the guidance of the people. The cloud was to lead them in all their marches, calling them to move, indicating the course they should take, and fixing the place at which they should rest. But there was need also for human guidance in the details of the marches. One who knew the wilderness, its paths, its springs of water, its shelters, its dangers, was essential to the commander in leading his people towards Canaan. Hence Moses desired the help of Hobab, the Kenite. The Kenites were an Arab tribe. When Moses fled from Egypt he took refuge with these people, marrying a daughter of Jethro, their chief. Jethro was helpful to Moses in his organization of the people, and when the march was about to begin Moses earnestly requested Hobab to accompany him. “Come you with us, and we will do you good,” was the assuring invitation.

We should invite our friends to join us and go with us on our pilgrimage towards the holy land of heaven. Yet we must really believe in God ourselves and in the promises of the inheritance which He has in reserve for us, or we cannot assure others of the good things they will receive if they go with us. But if our faith is strong and clear we can say to people confidently that it will be a good thing for them to unite with the church. It will bring them into the company of those who are journeying towards the good land.

The invitation, however, did not impress Hobab. His answer was: “No, I will not go; I am going back to my own land and my own people.” His own home and kindred evidently drew strongly on his heart. The good promised him did not seem sufficient to win him away from the simple associations of his life. There are many people who make a like response to kindly invitations to unite with the church. They are not willing to leave their own companionships and fellowships, to make the sacrifices they would have to make.

Moses showed much earnestness and importunity with Hobab. He was not willing to leave him behind. They had long been good friends, and it was hard to go on even to the land of promise and have Hobab not go with him. He said: “Please do not leave us. You know where we should camp in the desert, and you can be our eyes.” The first plea of Moses was that Hobab would find good for himself by accompanying Israel. Now he pleads that Hobab would be helpful on the way. Moses needed him. Hobab had been brought up in the desert and knew every part of it, every path, every spring of water, every bit of pasture. He would be able, therefore, to be a guide to the people in their journeys.

Moses felt that he could not spare Hobab, that he could not take the people through the wilderness without his help. This appears to have had more influence with Hobab, than the promise that he would receive good himself by going. Some people are more strongly influenced by opportunities for usefulness and helpfulness, than they are by promises of personal good. In every appeal, too, which Christ makes for followers, He has the two thoughts in mind He would save the man himself, lift him up to life and blessedness; then He would have the man become a helper of others, a helper of the church.

There are many people not yet members of the church whom God needs and whom Christ is calling, and who could be greatly helpful to the cause of Christ if they would become His followers. There are men with money who would do very much in the world if only they were Christians devoted to Christ. There are men with gifts of speech, who, if they would unite with the church and devote their energies and powers to the service of Christ, could win many souls and give great help in the building up of Christ’s kingdom. There are women with large social influence whom Christ needs. If they would enter His church with devoted hearts and ready hands their lives would be great blessings to many.

#James Russell Miller #Devotional Hours Within the Bible #Numbers 9 #Numbers 10 #Journeying Towards Canaan #February 3 #2023

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Ship your moots 💞

Alrighty, this'll be interesting. Granted that I have a good number of moots, so I'll only list the ones for whom I can think of a ship ^^'

Anshi @simpingforthisonedeer - I ship you with none other than Julius. I think you two share an interest for the world, as well as a passion for learning. And thus, I think you'd make a cute ship who understand each other

Lyra @lyranova - I ship you with... Fue. Actually. I know that he's not your The Fave. But I think that you're hard working, kind and compassionate, and would best thrive with someone who is like that as well.

Erika @loosesodamarble - I'm so tempted to ship you with Fue too, for similar reasons as with Lyra, but I do have to go with someone who'd appreciate you with everything he has; Nacht. I think that you're a sweet, understanding and reflective person, who could help Nacht deal with his issues, and he's give you appreciation and devotion you deserve.

Aine @bowandcurtsey - I do ship you with Yami. I think you'd share a good laugh, and while you're more hardworking than he is, I think you'd do your very best to support each other through anything and everything.

Whack @whackdreamer - I ship you with Morgen (and I am very much ignoring his death in canon), my reason for so being is that I think he would be a calming, positive energy in your life, and would most definitely help you unwind after work and other responsibilities. Meanwhile you'd bring humour and a down to earth mindset to life, into his life.

Melissa @luminouslion - I actually would ship you with Marx. I think that you'd bring a more relaxed mindset into his life. You'd, while taking care of your own responsibilities, remind him about having fun every once in a while (and Julius would just have to deal with that)

Donna @delirious-donna - I think you should be shipped with someone who is sweet and caring, just like yourself. But who has a little bit of spunk. So, I ship you with Magna. He's Husband Material, but with a little glimmer in the corner of his eye.

Sun @succulentsunrise - You're so sweet and diligent, but I also think that you are dedicated and passionate. Call it a Tani influence, but I do think that you'd balance out Mereo wonderfully. Life isn't all about battles, sometimes it's about kicking back and "loitering" in the sun, or perhaps tending a garden. She's not afraid of a little dirt, well all know that ;)

Blaze @prince-of-peacocks - I ship you with Kirsch. What can I say, I think you'd sparkle together. We've talked a bit about how Kirsch probably has insecurities underneath all the glitter (which probably affects his need to make things beautiful). And I think you'd make a beautiful couple who work through what life throws at you.

L @bakugossanity - I ship you with Yuno. I think you're both calm people, and hard working, but I'd say you're more caring than he is. That is not to say that he wouldn't care, it's just that he has trouble expressing it at times. But I think you two could make it work, and create a balance within your relationship.

Lauren @darkcloakedinfinitevoid - I'd ship you with William. I think he's be a kind, caring, tentative partner for you who'd try his best to help you with your responsibilities, as well as listen when you need him to. And you'd be a kind, caring addition into his life, just by being yourself.

Camy @hybridanafrost - I ship you with Zora. I think you could be mischievous together, but still have a 'building' relationship. Zora is a little bit harsh with his feedback at times, but he doesn't do that to be mean. It's simply something he developed while surviving on his own. Because of which I think you'd be the more compassionate part of the ship, teaching him that you can be right and kind.

That's only a couple of you, and I'm sorry for you who I missed, but the cursor in my brain is blinking ^^'

#ask game #I suppose

[thewolfisawake]

Donovan settled amongst the sands as the waters pushed a bit lower than where he was. Besides him was a makeshift altar and a cask of wine. Atop the shrine was a lacquered box. He took a key to the pristine lock. With a light click, it fell away to reveal a vase. This vase of gold showed years of wear against the soft metal. Inevitable bangs and scuffs. But there was also show of much care. There was no hint of rust. Any inlay or indent was dutifully kept devoid of dirt or dust.

He stared at it for minutes. Only the lapping of the waves heard alongside the last cries of the birds before the nocturnals came about. The waves came closer until grazed the vase. The combination of the water and the sun's rays seemed to make it thrum and shine so beautifully.

Tentatively, Donovan removed his gloves. His gaze remained on the vases, the thrum coming to a crystalline note that continued on. His fingers came close but tell short. It hummed as if begging for his attention. Slowly he inched forward, ignoring the wetness of his pants and shoes as he reached the vase.

At his touch the humming stopped and instead pulsated through his skin. He closed his eyes as he said, "It has been so long yet it feels as though we were hiding under cloths but yesterday. And while this mimicks it, I so long for your touch."

Donovan paused. His features reflected his years as they darkened. His eyes not leaving the sunset dyed waters but called, "There is no reason for you to be here."

Euryale stepped onto the sands although it seemed as though the grains parted to avoid sullying her, "Call it concern. It has been a long time since you have stepped foot this way. Aleksandra thought you might be avoiding it in grief. I thought you doing so to avoid the wrath of a goddess."

"The wrath of the divine cannot phase me anymore," the phoenix informed as his attention shifted back onto the vase. He hadn't realized he shifted to cradling it within his arms, "and as you can see, there is no affection nor disdain. I am but a pebble in the expanse of a beach. Now leave me be."

"Tou-chy," Euryale said as she walked along. Her hand flitting through his hair and down the sleeve where the indication of his lineage was hidden, "I was curious the interest the pantheon had in being omniscient observers. I can't say I see the appeal. Especially when it's watching such a depressing date."

Her steps continued until her form faded. The footsteps going a bit further before also halting. But her voice loitered, "Maybe instead of the veil, you should worry about how to be rid of that curse of your kind...Patroclus."

#writings #oh I debated publishing this #but y'know me #can't resist blabbing about these guys #and the idea for this had me in such a chokehold #although now I have to update his profile eventually #also I guess I gotta have Euryale puttering the background for MORE shenanigans #I'm sure Kris can guess what

[p-isforpoetry]

"The Waste Land" - The Fire Sermon by T. S. Eliot (read by Fiona Shaw)

The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

A rat crept softly through the vegetation Dragging its slimy belly on the bank While I was fishing in the dull canal On a winter evening round behind the gashouse Musing upon the king my brother’s wreck And on the king my father’s death before him. White bodies naked on the low damp ground And bones cast in a little low dry garret, Rattled by the rat’s foot only, year to year. But at my back from time to time I hear The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring. O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter And on her daughter They wash their feet in soda water Et O ces voix d’enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

Twit twit twit Jug jug jug jug jug jug So rudely forc’d. Tereu

Unreal City Under the brown fog of a winter noon Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants C.i.f. London: documents at sight, Asked me in demotic French To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

At the violet hour, when the eyes and back Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting, I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives, Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea, The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights Her stove, and lays out food in tins. Out of the window perilously spread Her drying combinations touched by the sun’s last rays, On the divan are piled (at night her bed) Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays. I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest— I too awaited the expected guest. He, the young man carbuncular, arrives, A small house agent’s clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sits As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire. The time is now propitious, as he guesses, The meal is ended, she is bored and tired, Endeavours to engage her in caresses Which still are unreproved, if undesired. Flushed and decided, he assaults at once; Exploring hands encounter no defence; His vanity requires no response, And makes a welcome of indifference. (And I Tiresias have foresuffered all Enacted on this same divan or bed; I who have sat by Thebes below the wall And walked among the lowest of the dead.) Bestows one final patronising kiss, And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .

She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Hardly aware of her departed lover; Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass: “Well now that’s done: and I’m glad it’s over.” When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone.

“This music crept by me upon the waters” And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street. O City city, I can sometimes hear Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, The pleasant whining of a mandoline And a clatter and a chatter from within Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls Of Magnus Martyr hold Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold. The river sweats Oil and tar The barges drift With the turning tide Red sails Wide To leeward, swing on the heavy spar. The barges wash Drifting logs Down Greenwich reach Past the Isle of Dogs. Weialala leia Wallala leialala ..........................

Source: The Waste Land

#The Waste Land #The Fire Sermon #The Waste Land Part III - The Fire Sermon #T. S. Eliot #Fiona Shaw #poem #poetry #audio #Youtube

[hananzaki]

Location: Some mango tree @tamyrawilliams​ 

Hanan had pitched the tent she’d been given facing out towards the mountain line. The first day she hadn’t done anything much more than sleep after being hauled out of the water. Everything ached, pleasantly, but ached nonetheless. Finally, she had emerged, found herself some food, and was now ambling about with a lack of purpose. This she didn’t like. Though it was kinda fun to weave through the houses and see the array of homes people had built for themselves. It begged the question how long people had been living here. If they’d found the time and resources to build themselves something more than a bamboo hut.

Of course, she had washed up without her phone. Without anything. Though presumably there was no cell-phone service out here. That at least she was familiar with. She’d been warned not to loiter beneath coconut trees. But no-one had told her that there was a mango tree on the edge of the jungle, far far from everyone else. Her feet ached, well everything did, but she was pretty certain she could scale it and get one of the riper mangos that hadn’t yet fallen. Well, it was worth a shot. Worst come to worst she could crawl back to her tent and sleep the rest of the day. Not quite the vantage point she wanted, but it might give her a better view of the island. Get an idea of any other islands that were nearby.

Admittedly. It wasn’t as easy to climb it as she had hoped. Hanan would eagerly blame DOMs for that and hooked her legs over one of the branches to perch up in the treetop. From here, she could reach out and take a mango to bite into. The view. Well, she was fairly certain it would be better on top of the island’s mountain. It was still beautiful. It also confirmed that as far as she could see there was nothing around them. There was however, someone far far below her. “Oh, hey, hello! Do you want one too?” Hanan beamed down at them, there wasn’t any within direct reach of her that were ripe but she could climb higher. “I’m sorry, wait this isn’t your mango tree is it?”

“Is this considered stealing here? Sorry I uh–” She was talking too much. Ambling off softly so they couldn’t even hear her anyway. 

#tamyra (001) #10/10 fun silly starter.

[shadow-spectra]

★ Assorted Pieces of Me ★

Poems:

Crust

Home of my eroded roads, I had chosen you —

was used to briar-scratch, and risk

of fallen trees, lives struck to their knees —

I knew not to disturb, defer, please step inside

but made my way beneath, and felt ashamed

beside the parched and gaping mouth of ditch —

emptied, starved with thirst, resembling me.

What I wanted was the love

within a grain of sand, the dying branch,

the hand of God emerging from withered leaves

or stones which creeks once cradled, soothed.

And now, you - music I hear through carcasses

of trees, the peck and howl, the voice

inside the grain, the only shoot of green

in beds of seared wheat —

you, sweet meal, asked for plucking,

as I knelt then, and would still kneel to drink of you.

But God's hand is nowhere.

Only you, your palms, your fingers, clutching

at something you cannot name,

define, honor or cherish.

I am what you keep — a seedling,

or the last crust of bread coveted —

as if it could rise towards what might have been.

— Hillary Frasier Hays

Decatur Street

She thought she knew Decatur Street

would be terrain retained for drunks or angels

the place where migrants covet death —

but find that living, suddenly, isn't so frightening.

And think they might go on.

She thought that she could surface here.

Steal the dreaming from her mind

and make a poem out of river rocks,

of too many days and nights spent wanting oblivion

or a love that could not stop —

and hoped that vampires loitered there —

and came to see that this was all so dumb of her.

Was it only ever for her finding peace?

Some kind of impossible release from a life

turned strangely wrong —

and always the rumors that she had made it so.

Always the withered vine, the alcohol, the incubi,

all of which she swore to leave behind.

Or the constant terror of meaning what to do or be.

But in the midst of all of this or after,

someone said, “New Orleans”,

and someone said, "Ghosts will breathe”

in this last haven where guilt recedes,

and we are safe to be lost children,

who walk a kind of recognition,

who bear a lasting need to live or die,

and most who still remember there is someone

they did not wish to leave behind.

And so it would become too real.

And soon she learned to swim upstream

through tides of bourboned bodies,

some of them half-innocents,

and some too ruined to be trusted,

and some with so much tenderness within

that she felt she might stop breathing.

And the night could never be so pretty —

and the cobblestones could never speak so clearly —

and somewhere inside the rhythm of surrendering,

she came to know she was forgiven.

— Hillary Frasier Hays

spore

a spore

slipped in unseen.

the tainted meat

still reeks

for him to hush her

outbroke apocalypse

years to sleep.

these juices

won't run clear.

scabbed back on the spit

she dreamed plague rats

shat the antidote

to his disease.

this pox

needs quarantine.

the dime store devil

mask she wore

for armageddon

felled

like the fever

he left her

to feed.

— Hillary Frasier Hays

Segments:

"So should I give you sea glass when I speak? Should I let eons wear away the rough and pinch of whetted messages before I fathom your intent? Should I rather wait for my last brittle hair to turn gray upon the shell before I permit myself to say I am awed by you, that I want to cry inside the belly of your whale, I want to lie down within the mouth of your basking shark and show you the teeth marks are beautiful. I want to be the krill who feeds you. To ask, Will you be my River? Empty yourself into me. Level my sea." — Hillary Frasier Hays

"If I try very hard I can read your voice. I can feel it, lodged in the white, leapt from the space where words are exempt. It hovers, resonant, draped beyond the rim of monitors and my uncertain reach. You are text to me, text and not text. Breath in a vortex of fibers and light. And through hours after nights spent, our lines, a tent drawn taut against the split, I know the sound of you..." — Hillary Frasier Hays

"Once I treaded water awaiting your response. Now I feel you swimming through my very being. Once I asked for antidotes to quell the poison's sting. Now I taste its bitter and find it rather pleasing. Once I dreamt the Pegasus would fly me from this mortal soil. Now I find that I have wings. But I won't be anyone's Icarus. I won't melt when you see into me. And I will build the Babel with unholy reverence and place a flag of Love atop its crest." — Hillary Frasier Hays

"You remember her. You remember just as I remember. The memory is faint and yet always retains its original scent of fear. It is impossible not to detect a trace of it on autumn nights pregnant with so much still-birthed air. Impossible, when one reads of a suicide in the daily news, to refrain from going back to that final place in time when a woman decides that if an end will not come for her she will hunt it down like a feral lamb, her soul shorn down to its last thin covering, her heart a waste of bloody fleece that no one dares to spin, her mind too wild for shepherding, something gentle stalled in hate – you must have watched as she loathed her body and counted marks of stretch, you must have seen the wool descend, you must have wept when she put the key in the ignition and drove unfeeling to the place where no one escapes from still with breath." — Hillary Frasier Hays

Poetic Prose:

An Excerpt from: The Mother of All Autisms

II.

It is night. I know this because I see the moon beyond the window of my Grandfather’s car. He has come to take my Mother and I away. Away from home. From open wounds. But my Grandfather is clever. He knows to come for us when Father is at work. Otherwise it would be like cautery, having to separate them, these twin flames now smoldering and razing a wasteland through each others’ souls .

The heat of their sorrow is intolerable. The flint is infinite. Fire. My parents are on fire. But I am too small to know how to put them out.

So Grandfather comes by moonlight. Mother packs a hasty bag. She doesn’t know what she is doing. She doesn’t really want to leave. She eyes her bedspread and my crib. She remembers the shops where she and Father purchased them. She pets the boy kitten a final time, its sister not too long dead from a ruptured heart. She thinks how this is like her marriage. And she wishes she could howl like the kitten howled, just before it died.

But Mother might as well be sleep-walking. She doesn’t feel anything. Just my baby flesh beneath her fingertips, just a wedding ring turning to rot on her finger, just the imprint of another foolish dream washed away. Sandcastles. She thinks of sandcastles. She thinks of all sorts of things that were never meant to last. I think of only one thing: Father. I will never again have a Father. That I need my Father. That I wish Mother would tell Grandfather to turn the car around. To go back. Home. Go back home. — Hillary Frasier Hays

#poetry #words words words #my words #stories

[apollo-zero-one]

Why is it illegal to live in a tent. I'm researching it and I don't understand. Because like. It isn't illegal to be homeless (though it. It is illegal to loiter and it is illegal to sleep in many places so I guess it is a little illegal to be homeless.) but it would be illegal for me to purchase a lot in a neighborhood and live in a tent there. Even though it is my land that I pay properly taxes on. Apparently it is illegal to have a 'permanent residence that is off the grid' so? They would rather you have an impermanent residence? What if I just want a mailbox and a place I am allowed to keep my stuff and I just don't want to deal with anything else? I mean it wouldn't be my first choice but I am tearing my hair out trying to find any goddamn way to live alone within biking distance of my job and I'm not coming up with much.

Lots of options for paying $600/month to live in a shoebox with a roommate. That is PER PERSON by the way, and you are straight up not ALLOWED to live there by yourself. Which I think should be illegal actually, just say what the apartment costs and let whoever figure it out for themselves jfc. I can't handle a roommate that is the entire point of trying to move out. I just. Anywhere. Anywhere that is $600/month or less that has running water and a lock on the door, that is literally where the bar is. I don't care how small it is I don't care if it doesn't have a goddamn bathroom at this point, I will take a 100 square foot room with no windows, a sink in the corner and nothing else, and I will make it work just as long as the door locks and I don't have to look at or talk to anyone else while there. I can not do communal living. I cannot do a roommate. I desperately need to have space that is my space and mine alone where no one else knows my schedule or asks where I'm going I just want to live alone

#im having a meltdown about not being allowed to clean the mess on our kitchen table #and my brother's room smelling bad #technically. i have done the math and technically I can't actually afford rent more than $460/mo but if I take groceries and wifi off the #budget I could do it. and not having groceries or wifi would encourage me to pick up more shifts as I get free food and wifi while there #and that would allow me to pay down my debts faster too. sure #my mental and physical health would rapidly deteriorate as it always does whenever I try to pick up more shifts. But at least I wouldn't #have to explain myself to my parents or look at their motherfucking mess anymore.

[danny-darkness]

Danny Darke Photography © 2019

#My own photography #camping trips #life under canvas #campsites #travelling #loitering within tents #hiking #natural beauty #my favourite places #my tent #basic living #holidays and breaks #Danny Darke

[noirandchocolate]

‘You can’t arrest the commander of an army!’ 'Actually, Mr. Vimes, I think we could,’ said Carrot.  'And the army, too.  I mean, I don’t see why we can’t.  We could charge them with behavior likely to cause a breach of the peace, sir.  I mean, that’s what warfare IS.’ Vimes’s face split in a manic grin.  'I LIKE it.’ 'But in fairness our–that is, the Ankh-Morpork army–are also–’ 'Then you’d better arrest them, too,’ said Vimes.  'Arrest the lot of 'em.  Conspiracy to cause an affray,’ he started to count on his fingers, 'going equipped to commit a crime, obstruction, threatening behavior, loitering with intent, loitering WITHIN tent, hah, traveling for the purposes of committing a crime, malicious lingering and carrying concealed weapons.’

--Terry Pratchett, “Jingo” (And the thing is, we laugh at this because the idea of Sam Vimes arresting two armies IS funny.  But on top of being funny–and on top of Vimes trying to pile on the charges here with this list–Pratchett intended with this book above all else to characterize war as, in itself, a crime.  In this case, a war started because of a lie and because of racial/ethnic/national prejudice.  But we’re meant to be thinking about this.  When is war NOT a crime, when you get down to what most people think crimes are?  Why is killing people okay and legal when it’s war, for one thing?  Why is it legal to loot places when you conquer them?   Why isn’t it murder and theft?  Well?)

(NOTE: This is a repost of an earlier post of mine from my 2016 Discworld Full Readthrough because I still like my commentary but reblogging the old post isn’t possible because for some reason tumblr completely breaks the formatting on ‘quote’ posts when I try to reblog them now.)

#terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #discworld #jingo

[jamaisjoons]

dark chocolate snap ⤑ ksj & kth | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 the last thing you’d expected a few days before valentine’s, was a text from your friends’ with benefits telling you to meet them at a hotel. however, with all the tasty tricks up their sleeve, you’re sure that valentine’s day will be extra sweet this year. that is, as long as you survive the night with the two men ravishing you as if you’re their last meal… or dessert. 〞friends with benefits au. valentine’s au. pwp au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: seokjin x reader x taehyung

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: fluff ∝ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 15.5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: heavy bdsm themes, hard (but softer than tae)dom!seokjin, hard dom!taehyung, big cock!seokjin, big cock!taehyung, slight bratty sub!reader, threesome: mfm, public indecency yeehaw, use of sex toys: vibrators, exhibitionism, humiliation, use of blindfolds, grinding, female masturbation, voyeurism, teasing, biting, dirty talk, degradation, finger licking/sucking, fingering, wet and messy, minor breast/nipple play, spanking, face slapping with cock, cock rubbing, rough/sloppy blowjob, choking/gagging on cock, praise, food play: melted chocolate, temperature play, licking/eating food off of a body, power dynamics, pain kink, mild ass worship, pussy eating, deep throating, hair pulling, clit torture, throat bulge, face fucking, slight objectification kink, minor choking, crying, orgasm control, orgasm denial, disobedience/punishment, oral fixation, cock worship, anal play, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, impact play: paddle, some truly inspired use of chocolate, begging, forced orgasm, squirting, overstimulation, unprotected sex, riding, minor male masturbation, ass eating, anal fingering, spitting, anal sex, double penetration, rough sex, deep dicking, creampie, anal creampie, aftercare because yn is a trooper an deserves it for her performance

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: ahhhhhhhh i have no idea wtf is happening in this but either way i love taejin... also this is ACTUALLY pwp because the plot and or background to their relationship is non existent

⤑ edited by my lovely @shadowsremedy​, beta read by the sweetest @yeoldontknow​, @kithtaehyung​, @softyoongiionly​, @yoonjinkooked​, @sunshinekims​, @nottodayjjk​, and @vari8tions​

⏤ written for the bon appetit collab

Big Daddy 🍆

        Princess Suite. Crown Plaza. Sowol-ro. Hannam-dong. Reserved under Kim Seokjin. Taehyung and I will be waiting.

You stare at your phone for a couple of moments, making sure that you’ve got the correct address, as well as the hotel, before looking up at the imposing tower of steel and glass that looms over you. The words ‘Crown Plaza’ are emblazoned at the top of the building; the flavescent neon lighting proudly shimmering against the late-evening sky. Eyes skimming to the entrance, you pull your lower lip between your teeth, before anxiously chewing on it. Currently, you’re in the warm comfort of your Uber, the driver patiently waiting for you to exit her vehicle. However, the harder you scrutinise the length between the door of the cab, to the hotel’s front door, the more you feel like turning tail and running away. And that’s nothing to say for the way the distance seems to increase with each passing second; though, you’re sure that’s more to do with your apprehension than anything.

Turning to the Uber driver, “Is there any way you can get closer to the entrance?” you question. The woman looks at you strangely before shaking her head.

“This is the drop off,” comes her laconic response.

At her words, you bite your lip harder - hard enough to almost draw blood - before nodding your head. For a second time that evening, you consider asking the driver to take you back home. Nonetheless, you know that’s not an option: Seokjin and Taehyung most likely waiting for you in the hotel suite. Though, honestly speaking, your tentativeness is all thanks to them in the first place. After all, who the hell ordered their lover to go to a hotel completely naked, with only a winter coat to keep them covered? Answer? Seokjin and Taehyung. Of course, it’s partially your own fault. Mostly because, you’re the one who told both your friends’ with benefits that you wanted more spontaneity and thrill in your relationship. Although, this was not what you had in mind; i.e. Seokjin texting you the moment you’d gotten home from work to strip and get to the hotel.

“Are you getting out? I have other customers,” the woman prompts, and realising she’s grown impatient, you send her an apologetic smile before nodding. Well, there’s no turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, you tug the coat tighter around you - ensuring each of the buttons are securely fastened, lest you unwittingly flash someone - before opening the door and exiting the Uber. The moment you step outside, a gust of wind blows by. It carries the brisk chill of the winter on its back, and skimming through the heavy tweed of Seokjin’s coat, the gale kisses your skin, leaving the surface gelid under its touch. Instantly, a violent shiver runs down your back, the wintry breeze causing you to huddle into the little warmth offered by the jacket. Under its sharp bite, your nipples twist to hardness, almost painfully, the sudden ache causing you to suck in a sharp breath. Surreptitiously, you chance a glance towards your chest, only to let out a breath of relief. With how thick the jacket is, the hardened peaks of your breasts are hidden - the bulky material effectively hiding them.

For a brief moment, you contemplate getting back in your Uber, but, just as the thought crosses your mind, the car behind speeds off, leaving you alone in the cold. With your choice made for you, your next option is to simply run towards the hotel lobby, because - now that you look at it - the distance isn’t that great. Nevertheless, you know that’s simply not an option. And that’s thanks to the second demand your paramours had asked of you. The remote control vibrator resting just within the walls of your sex. Courtesy of one, Kim Taehyung. It’s small, and motionless right now, but paired with your naked body, and the sight of people simply milling about, the feel of it inside you is prominent - inescapable.

With the fear of the toy falling out of you, and alerting everyone to your lewd, depraved actions, you gingerly begin making your way to the entrance. As you walk, you keep your thighs clenched together, in a bid to retain the silicon toy inside of you, though, that’s easier said than done. Each of your steps has the silken lining of Seokjin’s coat sliding against your naked skin; the soft touch, paired with the thrill of your brazen actions and the biting air, causing your walls to intermittently convulse - threatening to push the toy out of you. Nonetheless, after long, drawn-out moments, you finally reach the front doors.

Just as you take a step to enter the lobby, however, another gust of wind blows past, and this time, after ruffling through Seokjin’s coat, it brushes against your bare core. Automatically, a soughed whimper falls from your lips - the chilled air against your heated sex making your skin prickle with goosebumps. The sensation has your inner walls clenching inadvertently, and under the reflexive movement, the feel of the rounded vibrator inside you intensifies. Against your will, you feel your cunt release a fresh wave of arousal - the wetness trickling out of you and along your thighs. Skin flushing with humiliation at the slickness that coats your flesh, you swiftly open the front door and step into the hotel - the sooner you get to the suite the better.

A pleasant heat assaults your senses as soon as you enter; the warmth a stark juxtaposition to the frigid cold you’d just escaped from. Before you can enjoy the welcomed change, however, the vibrator inside you flares to life. Viciously, it thrums inside you and as the intense vibrations stimulate your inner nerves, your walls unintentionally pulse - a second, thicker gush of wetness slipping out of you and down your thighs. The reverberations take you by surprise, and automatically, you clench your legs. Unable to stop yourself, however,  you let out a high-pitched squeak. Beside you, the doorman gives you an odd look, and cheeks flushing with heat, you turn away from him. Rather, your eyes skim across the foyer.

Surprisingly, despite the lateness of the evening, a hoard of people occupy the hotel’s reception - all of them dressed to impress as they casually mill about - and eyes landing onto the sign at one end of the lobby, you understand why. The hotel is currently hosting some form of speed dating event. Seeing the crowd, an inkling of despair flits through you, especially when you feel the pulsating toy shift inside of you. You continue looking around the palatially decorated room, yet, no matter how many times your eyes sweep across the floor, you can’t seem to locate either of your lovers - whoever it is blending in with the throng of people that loiters around the foyer. Just as your gaze lands on the reception, your pocket buzzes, and pulling out your phone, you look at your newest text.

Dr Dick 👅

        Go straight to the reception. Don’t be late.

Then, as if in a warning, the vibrator’s reverberations intensify for a short moment, before coming to a halt. Unwittingly, a small mewl slips from your lips, and sucking in a deep, steadying breath, you cautiously make your way to the reception counter. As soon as you approach them, the two employees rise to their feet and greet you with a smile.

“How can we help you?” one of them asks. The second you open your mouth to respond, however, the vibrator inside you suddenly begins moving - this time, at a much higher setting than before. The unexpected movement forces a gasp out of you, and body going rigid, you watch as both the receptionists look at you in alarm. Thinking on your feet, you quickly morph your gasp into a forced cough.

Corners of your lips twisting into a weak smile, “Sorry about that. I’ve, uhh, got a reservation under Kim Seokjin,” you respond. Your voice is shaky, and higher than you intended it to be, and responsively both of them look at you oddly. Nonetheless, rather than commenting on your strange behaviour, they nod their head, and turn back to their computer.

“Just give us a moment to find your reservation,” one of them responds, the other beginning to type out something. Feebly, you nod your head, your hands moving to casually drum on the countertop.

Despite your nonchalant demeanour, however, internally you feel your resolve slowly begin to crumble. Molten desire pools within the pits of your stomach with each passing moment, the vibrations of the toy stimulating the deep erogenous zones inside of you and causing bristles of pleasure to prickle at your flesh. Discreetly, you look around, the sight of the crowd causing your blood to bubble with pleasure. They mindlessly mill about, completely unawares to the way the vibrator rhythmically pulses inside of you. Walls rippling, you feel the contractions threaten to push the vibrator out of you, and muscles locking in alarm, you discreetly clench your thighs - willing it further inside of you. Thankfully, on one hand, the movement has it retreating back into the safety of your walls. Thanklessly, on the other, it pushes in deeper, causing your breath to unwittingly hitch when it brushes against a particularly sensitive spot.

“It’s the Princess Suite, you can find it on the forty-third floor. Here’s your key,” the employee states all of a sudden. Their voice draws your attention, and you watch as one of them slides a golden keycard across the marble countertop, “We hope you enjoy your stay with us. Checkout is midday tomorrow,” they continue.

As soon as you pick up the keycard, the vibrator comes to a still. Letting out a quiet exhale, you smile wanly at both the employees, and, “Thank you,” you reply. Then, turning on your heels, you quickly stalk towards the elevator. With each step, the sticky slipperiness of your thighs grows more apparent - your wetness dripping out of you and along your flesh. The sensation causes you to pick up speed, and before long, you approach the lift. Luckily, just as you reach the doors, they open - a young couple exiting out. Not wanting to waste any time, you quickly make your way into the amber-lit chamber and click the button that leads to your floor.

As soon as the elevator doors shut, a tinkling chime ringing through the air, you let out a deep breath of relief. Somehow, you’d done it. Somehow, despite your own embarrassment and consciousness, you’d managed to walk into the hotel completely naked - even with a vibrator pulsing inside of you. Now, you just have to make it to your room. The elevator ride is short, in spite of how high up your reserved suite is, and before long, a familiar bell resounds through the air - signalling your arrival. Lift doors opening, you walk out into the short corridor. Two doors meet your eyes, one one either side of you; and eyes skimming the gold plaques, you locate the one that has ‘Princess Suite’ embossed in black into the surface.

Swiping your keycard through the slot, a low beep alerts you to the bolt unlocking, and without further delay, you enter the room. Automatically, the lights flicker on, and as the space is flooded by croceate lighting, your breath catches in the midst of your throat. The suite is opulent to say the least - rich shades of gold, ivory and walnut meeting your eyes. As you take in the lavishly decorated front room, you can’t help but wonder how much Seokjin and Taehyung shelled out in order to reserve the suite. It must have cost a small fortune. The thought of it causes your stomach to twist, and involuntarily, butterflies bloom within your abdomen.

At the remembrance of your two lovers, your shoulders perk up. You step through the entrance, and after crossing the living room, you make your way to what you assume is the bedroom. Luckily, your guess is right, and immediately, you’re met with the sight of a large four-poster bed - adorned in goose-down pillows and draped in satin sheets. Nonetheless, as inviting as it looks, there’s only one glaring thing missing: Seokjin and Taehyung. From their texts, they’d made it seem as if they were waiting for you. But, apparently, that hadn’t been the case. Corners of your nose scrunching, you move to pull out your phone and call Seokjin, however, before you can, something catches your eyes.

Approaching the mattress, your eyebrow quirks at the sight of the small envelope casually resting at the edge of the bed. Easily recognising the handwriting on the surface, the thin scrawl belonging to none other than Seokjin, you pick up the letter. It’s thicker than you’d thought, and as it rests in your hands, you feel something soft nestled within it. Curiosity piqued, you flip it over, and opening it, you pull out two items - a broad, silk ribbon, and a small piece of paper. ‘Put on the blindfold and wait. We’ll be there for you soon.’ Eyes tracing the words over and over again, a small frown forms at the edges of your mouth. You had to wait even longer? God, whatever they had planned better be worth it.

Despite your slight aggravation, you slip the note back into the envelope and place it back on the bed. Then, perching on the edge of the mattress, you tie the blindfold around your eyes and begin your waiting game. Hunger churns through your bloodstream, your neediness growing with each moment that passes. It doesn’t help that the silken lining of Seokjin’s coat presses flush against your sex, the sleek material clinging to your folds thanks to the lubricious wetness that slicks your cunt. The musky heat at the apex of your thighs grows uncomfortable, and hips squirming, you try to get into a more comfortable position, only to let out a whimper when your pussy glides across the silk-like fabric.

Entrance rippling, you feel your clit throb for attention and a low mewl of wanton need escapes your mouth. Repeating the action, you grind your cunt further into the jacket, and this time, when the fabric brushes against your engorged clit, you let out a hoarse cry. With nothing to distract you, and no one to stop you, you spread your legs a little wider and push your hands between your thighs. Pads of your fingertips grazing your swollen bundle of nerves, a spark of electric pleasure jolts up your spine, and throwing your head back, you groan out in ecstasy.

Hips writhing, you begin grinding into your hand, your fingers dancing across your slit as high-pitched keens intermittently escape your mouth. You can feel how wet you are, a dense film of stick slickness coating your walls; stringy trails of your arousal oozing out of your entrance and onto the sheets. Digits gliding through your cunt, you begin rolling your clit in deep circles, your thighs beginning to tremble. With each roll of your hips, the vibrator shifts inside of you - its surreptitious movements causing your frustration to build up - and unable to bear it any longer, your desperation growing to urgent levels, you lay back on the bed.

Spreading your legs a little wider, you move your hand back to your sex, your fingers slipping past the heavy tweed of Seokjin’s jackets. For a few moments, you trace the outline of your sex - running your fingers across your slit and over your clit - and once the lengths are sufficiently wet, you dip two fingers into your dripping walls. Easily, your entrance accepts the intrusion, and fingertips coming into contact with the toy, your head lolls back and your mouth falls open in a ragged cry. You hook the crook of your second knuckles around the loop attached to the toy, and once it’s secure, you begin pumping your digits in and out of you; simultaneously dragging the smooth silicon toy through your folds. When your fingers push particularly deep, the vibrator pressing flush against your sweet spot, a heavy moan resounds through the air, and knowing your body well, you can feel your orgasm draw nearer.

Fingers picking up speed, you thrust them quicker in and out of you - using both, the pleasure of your digits plunging in and out of you, along with the vibrator stimulating your g-spot - to bring you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure. You have no idea how long passes, with you sitting there, your clit grinding against the silken lining as your fingers pump in and out of you, but soon, you lose yourself in your own pleasure. Thick ropes of arousal drip out of you, pooling under you and percolating into the jacket, undoubtedly leaving a puddle of your arousal in the material. Just as you feel yourself teeter on the precipice of pleasure, your thighs trembling uncontrollably, a low voice cuts through the air.

“Oh? Now, what do we have here?”

Shoulders tensing at the sound, you let out a whimper, your hand immediately coming to a still. Blindfold still wrapped around your head, you can’t see who it is, nor where they are. But, you don’t need to see to know who it is. From the rich, sweet tenor, and the slight wry intonation to his droll, you already know it’s Seokjin. Footfalls pad against the carpet, and as the noise draws nearer to you, you feel your body tremor with anticipation and excitement. Lifting your back, your elbows falling to either side of the mattress as you brace yourself, you look ahead, your head tilting to the side as you’re met with the darkness of the blindfold.

“Seokjin...” you breathe out heavily, the tenseness in your shoulders alleviating as you relax. The older man simply hums, the timbre of his voice resonating through the quiet room. His heavy presence draws nearer to you, until you can feel it loom over you, the hair at the back of your nap standing on edge. Instinctively, even though you’re blindfolded, you tilt your neck up; blindly searching for him. “Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, your head tilting around the room, your ears on alert - searching for any sound that would signal you to his presence.

One hand falls to your stomach, and slipping through the buttoned seam of your coat, you feel long, cool fingers dance across your naked skin. Deft fingers flittering over your bare stomach, “Right here, Kitten,” he drawls, the deep tremor to his voice causing your stomach to quiver.

“Took you both long enough. I’ve been waiting for a while, you know,” you pout, your lower lip jutting out.

“And yet, you couldn’t really wait, could you?” Seokjin hums.

Before you can reply, you feel a pair of plump lips graze across the outer shell of your ear. Warm breath fans across your skin, the feathery sensation causing a shiver of anticipation to run down your spine. All of a sudden, a sharp sting jolts through you, and feeling Seokjin bite down on the tip of your ear, you let out a small yelp. “Hmm, I don’t think either of us told you to play with yourself, did we, Taehyung?” Seokjin questions, his voice low and dangerous. As he speaks, you feel a pair of hands trace the placket of Seokjin’s coat, dexterous fingers systematically unfastening each of the buttons.

“No. I believe our instructions were to ‘Put on the blindfold and wait’,” Taehyung responds, a playful lilt colouring his voice.

With each clasp undone, more and more of your body is revealed to their eyes, until all of a sudden, the material falls to either side of your body - revealing your naked figure. The warmth you’d built up from the jacket immediately dissipates, and cool air descending over your bare flesh, you feel your nipples twist to hardness. Two sharp inhales fill the air, the sounds identical as Seokjin and Taehyung suck in a breath at the sight.

“At least she listened to one of our orders,” Taehyung chuckles, and though his sentence is light and airy, you easily pick up the slight edge to his voice.

Breath hitching, you feel him trail his hand down your abdomen and towards the apex of your thighs. Reaching your pubic mound, he begins tracing lazy circles into your skin, the teasing sensation causing you to mew in pleasure. When his fingertips brush against the hood of your clit, you gasp out his name, your hips autonomously bucking up into his hand. Not wasting a moment, he pushes his digits between your thighs, and swipes them through your dewy lips. A guttural groan spills from your mouth, your head falling backwards as you feel Taehyung delicately toy with the slick creases of your pussy.

“Oh? You’re fucking soaked. Did you enjoy being a nasty little slut?” Taehyung coos; thick derision dripping from his voice, like viscous honey.

On the side of you, a hand trails along your arm, and gently encircling around your wrist, he picks up your own hand. Bringing your fingers up to his mouth, he - Seokjin, you think - begins swiping your wet fingers across the soft folds. Voluptuous lips wrap around your digits, and feeling them enveloped by a wet, warm mouth, your skin flushes with the heat of desire. Seokjin’s tongue begins swirling across the lengths - and between his velvet appendage swiping over your fingers, as well as his mouth intermittently suckling - he cleans off your own arousal.

Releasing them from his mouth with a wet pop, “I think she did,” Seokjin chimes in with a low chuckle. Then, languidly twirling his tongue around the tips of your digits, “Our Princess is a depraved little whore, isn’t she? Getting off while walking around in public naked, with a vibrator inside her,” he continues. Their words have the tips of your ears tinging with heat - this time, with mortification.

“B-But you made me-” you try to argue. As soon as the words slip past your lips, however, Taehyung plunges two fingers inside of you, before splaying them wide. The unexpected intrusion has the vibrator pressing further into you, and paired with the burn of the stretch, your words are quickly morphed into a throaty groan.

“But no one told you to enjoy it so much,” he remarks, a sadistic inflection to his voice, and though you can’t see his face, you can practically feel the smirk that crawls onto his face.

“Enjoy? I-I didn’t-,” you try to counter. One of your nipples slots between two crooked fingers, and twisting them between his knuckles, Seokjin immediately stops your protests. Responsively, you moan, your back arching off of the bed.

“Don’t lie to us, Princess,” he hisses in warning. Then, soothingly stroking your nipple with the pad of his thumb, “We can already tell how much you enjoyed it. You’re so wet I can smell you from here,” he drawls. The vulgarity of his words has your spine tingling, and involuntarily, your entrance quivers around Taehyung’s fingers. In response, Taehyung starts to indolently thrust his digits into you, his thumb simultaneously pressing to your clit as he rolls it in light circles. Pleasure rippling through you, your hips squirm, and you push your sex further into his hand.

Above you, you feel someone’s head dip close to your abdomen, the silken ends of long hair tickling your bare flesh. The man presses a soft kiss to your stomach, just above your naval, and after swirling his tongue through the indentation, “You really are wet…” Taehyung comments. His fingers pick up speed, and hearing the clear squelching sounds of your pussy, Taehyung and Seokjin laugh. “Messy girl,” Taehyung coos.

Seokjin presses his nose to the side of your breast, and after lightly nipping the skin, he languidly swipes his tongue over your hardened nipple. “But we can get you messier, can’t we?” he murmurs.

With that, both of them suddenly draw away from you. Their warmth dissipating from your body, you let out a low whine of protest. Nonetheless, it doesn’t last long, because without a moment’s hesitation, they flip you onto your back - undoubtedly using Seokjin’s coat for help. Thanks to your blindfold, the gesture is unexpected, and startling, you let out a surprised shriek. One hand drags the hem of the coat up, revealing your bare ass to their gaze, and before you can say anything, another hand drops down onto your plump flesh. Pain flares across your skin - the sensation heralded by a sharp slap echoing through the air - causing you to hiss and push your ass back towards the hand.

“Take off the coat,” Seokjin orders,

“Then, get on your hands and knees,” Taehyung commands, their voices resound through the air back to back, as though with practiced ease. Though, realistically, you just know it’s from the amount of time you’ve spent together.

Your body moves on its own, as if trained to obey, and after shedding Seokjin’s heavy coat, you manoeuvre your body onto your hands and knees, your ass sticking in the air. In front of you, you feel the mattress dip, and when the sensual, spiced scent of nutmeg and musk fills your senses, you know it’s Taehyung; another presence behind you alerting you to Seokjin’s positioning. Thanks to your new position, you have no doubt that your body is bared to your lovers in the best way possible, and core trembling - another wave of arousal leaking out of you - you whimper out their names.

“P-Please,” comes your soughed plea.

In front of you, you feel the bed shift, and lifting your head up, you attempt to peek through the partial slit at the bottom of the blindfold. Before you can make out anything, however, you feel someone gently cup your chin between the side of his hand and his thumb. Carefully, yet firmly, he tilts your head downwards - the gesture filled with domineering authority. Pad of his thumb brushing against your lower lip, you feel him delicately trace the outline of your petal.

“Such pretty lips,” Taehyung murmurs. His hold only lasts a few moments, because the next thing you know, he’s letting your chin go. “But do you know when your lips look the prettiest?” he continues. The bed shifts once again, before the rustle of clothing fills the air; the sound accompanied by that of Seokjin rummaging behind you. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, however, Taehyung’s placing his large hand on the back of your head and lowering your face. Within moments, your mouth comes into contact with the leaky velvet of Taehyung’s cockhead; his precum staining your lips.

“Ah,” you gasp, the barest hint of his heady essence tinging your palate.

“It’s when they’re wrapped around my cock,” Taehyung purrs. Mouth watering, you instinctively part your lips and dive forward - blindly. Eyesight obscured, your cheeks slap against the side of Taehyung’s cock, and above you, he laughs, “Such a desperate, cockhungry kitten.” Suddenly, a thud resonates through the air, and feeling the heavy weight of Taehyung’s cock slap your cheek, you let out a little whimper. “Do you want to suck my cock that badly?” he coos.

Nodding your head furiously, you press your cheek further into the velvet hardness and stroke your face against it, “Please, can I?” you question. Laden with a mix of heavy lust and desirous need, your voice has Taehyung’s chest rumbling in approval.

“That’s my Kitten. You’ll be good and take me into your mouth, won’t you?” he asks. Again, you eagerly nod your head. Chuckling, “Open, slut,” he orders.

Not wasting a single moment, your mouth parts open, and with a pleased hum, Taehyung begins to feed you his cock. The moment you feel the weight of his cockhead on your tongue, you seal your lips around his girth; autonomously creating a vacuum-like seal.

Bit by bit, Taehyung pushes his cock into you, one hand faithfully on the back of your head as his shaft presses further and further into your silken wetness. With each inch, the underside drags against the flat of your tongue - dousing your palate in his potent flavour; the taste only causing your mouth to water - and with the aid of your spit, his length easily fills your mouth. Mere moments later, the lip of his cockhead grazing against the back of your tongue, Taehyung’s crown bumps against your tonsils. The feel of his cock pressed against the entrance to your throat causes you to choke, and spluttering around his shaft, you feel your eyes begin to sting with tears.

“Oh… Fuck yeah… Such a pretty cock-stuffed mouth. You always look so good filled with our cocks,” Taehyung moans, undoubtedly relishing in the velvet warmth of your mouth around his girth. Under his praise, you preen, a flutter of pride rippling through you, and in response, you forcibly will your oesophageal muscles to relax.

Out of the blue, and just before you can swallow, you feel a trickling, hot sensation drip down onto the curve of your spine. Heat flares across your flesh, and feeling the sharp sting, you cry out - the sound stifled by Taehyung’s cock. Taken by surprise, you arch your back, the movement inadvertently forcing the shaft further into your mouth, and as a result, you gag. Head jerking in surprise, you try to pull off Taehyung and turn your head towards Seokjin. Nevertheless, keeping a steady hand on the back of your skull, your lover keeps you in place. Swiftly, the heat dissipates, only to be replaced by the soft sensation of Seokjin’s tongue tracing the length of your spine as he licks up whatever it is he’d dribbled onto you.

“W-What is that?” you question, the words muffled as your tongue strains under the velvet weight of his girth.

“Melted chocolate... Spontaneous and thrilling enough for you?” Seokjin murmurs. As he speaks, he runs his tongue over the outline of your backbone, and when he reaches the top of your ass, he grazes his teeth against the plump flesh.

“Oh, fuck yes,” you breathe out, your core quivering in a mix of anticipation and excitement. The blindfold, paired with Seokjin’s actions, has the pits of your abdomen flooding with liquid lust.

Behind you, the older man notices the way the ringed entrance to your cunt pulsates, and with a light chuckle, “You like that, Princess?” he asks. Unhesitantly, you nod your head, the motion causing Taehyung’s cock to jolt within your mouth.

“We thought you would,” Taehyung hums, his fingertips affectionately stroking your scalp. “Now, my Kitten’s going to let me fuck her throat, isn’t she? All while Seokjin plays with you,” he coos, and again, you nod your head. For a brief moment, Taehyung pauses, and then, “I’m going to remove your blindfold now, Kitten. But I want you to keep your eyes on me okay?” he continues.

“Wait- I thought we were going to leave it on?” Seokjin asks. Taehyung shrugs, or at least, you think he does. All you feel is the slight movement of his body.

“I was. But, she looks so pretty when she looks at me with her mouth full of cock,” Taehyung responds.

Exhaling a breath of amusement, “That she does,” Seokjin agrees.

Taehyung slips the blindfold off of you, and lurid beams of flavescent gold flooding your vision, you immediately squint. You blink carefully, allowing your eyes to slowly adjust to the light. It only takes a few moments, and growing accustomed to the luminance, your gaze immediately comes into contact with Taehyung. He sits above you, his back casually pressed to the walnut headboard, and completely naked. Under the croceate lighting, the deep golden undertones of his skin are highlighted, causing his body to be encapsulated by a gilded halo. Thick thighs are spread on either side of your face, the bulging muscles bunched up and spread across the mattress - only making his limbs seem broader.

Through the thick of your lashes, your eyes still slightly blurry from when you’d gagged around his cock, you stare up at him; the sight causing Taehyung to groan in pleasure. Hand slipping from the back of your head to your face, he cups your chin, and angling it up slightly, “Mmmm. That’s one of my favourite sights,” he purrs.

Behind you, Seokjin drips more of the melted chocolate onto your body. Drop by drop, he drizzles the liquified confection along your back, and with each gesture, you feel your skin smart with the heat. Pain interweaves with pleasure, the sharp stings making you hiss and writhe while your walls rhythmically clamp around the silicon vibrator still resting inside you. Your lover allows the chocolate to trickle down your back, forming small, heated rivers of cocoa, and once it cools, he soothes the burn with his tongue - licking and nipping as he leaves his own marks onto your flesh.

With each whorl of his tongue, he effortlessly sucks the drying confectionary off of you, his plump lips dragging across your body. Under his ministrations, your skin turns febrile, and sensitive - from more than just the molten chocolate. Each dribble is erratic - the timing random, and unpredictable - and with Taehyung keeping your eyes firmly locked onto him, you simply can’t foresee when Seokjin is going to dribble the next dollop onto you. Especially since there’s no real pattern; some coming in quick succession - his teeth scraping and biting your flesh, leaving it tender under his ministrations; while others come slowly, with long delays between them - his lips and tongue roving over your back as he licks you up.

Gradually, however, Seokjin trails his way down your spine, until you feel his lips drag against the tops of your plump cheeks. Suddenly, Seokjin pours some more chocolate onto you - this time, directly onto the rounded flesh, and at a much higher volume. It drips down the surface, all the way to the sensitive tops of your thighs, making them quake as you feel it lick trails of fiery pleasure across your skin, only for the swelter to dissipate with moments - leaving you with nothing but the prickling stings of heat. Crying out in pleasure, you thrust your hips backward; directly into Seokjin’s waiting mouth. Silken wetness flat against your cheek, he licks up the molten confection sensually - practically making a meal out of you. His tongue tracks a broad line from the bottom of your ass, all the way to the top, and when he’s cleaned it all up, he harshly bites down on your plump globe.

Hissing in a mix of pain and pleasure, your head automatically moves to look at him. However, gripping your chin firmly, Taehyung tuts at you. “Eyes on me,” he reminds you, punctuating his words with a harsh thrust of his hips. Tip of his cockhead ramming against your tonsils, you splutter around his girth, the reaction causing pools of saliva to surge around your tongue. Inadvertently, it causes you to soak his shaft in your spit, small trails oozing out of the tight seal of your mouth and down his shaft.

Meanwhile, behind you, Seokjin drops his hands to the backs of your thighs, and thumbs pressing to your ass, he spreads you open for him. Nether lips saturated with your wetness, he unabashedly takes in the sight of you: the way the tight ring of muscles twitches, the vibrator threatening to spill out of you, and how your flesh oozes your arousal. Thin, filmy strings of your essence leak from your cunt, the threads clinging to your folds and hanging in the air. Flicking his tongue, he catches one of the ropes on its hollow, and as your laden taste bathes his palate, he lets out a deep groan.

“Mmmm. You taste even better than the chocolate… Such a sweet cunt,” he groans, his lips tickling your pussy with each word. Wrapping his mouth around your folds, he teasingly sucks for a fleeting moment - pulling more of your wetness into his mouth - before releasing them with a wet pop. “I could eat you forever,” he adds with a purr.

Placing the tip of his tongue flat on your pulsing bundle of nerves, Seokjin licks a broad line up the length of your pussy; from the hood of your clit, along your slit, and towards your leaking hole. As your heady taste deepens - the thick slickness coating his taste buds and leaving them heavy with your flavour - he purrs in pleasure. The vibrations dart up your nerves, stimulating every single one, while simultaneously setting them aflame with lust. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation, and loosened by your pleasure, your pharynx eases slightly; allowing the crown of Taehyung’s cock to slip further into your throat.

Seokjin runs the tip of his tongue through the creases of your fold, and after swirling the point around your quivering entrance, he pulls away. Abruptly, he smacks your ass, and biting down harshly onto your ass cheeks - hard enough to leave the indents of his teeth into the surface, “Spread yourself,” he orders. The sharp impact has you yelping around Taehyung’s cock, and flesh of your mouth vibrating along his shaft, his head lolls back in pleasure as he lets out a guttural moan.

You dig your knees further into the bed - using them to both anchor your body, and your weight - before doing as he says. Fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass, you spread both cheeks for Seokjin, bearing yourself wide open for him. The new position causes you to fall further onto Taehyung’s shaft, and as his blunt head pierces into you by another inch, you feel your throat constrict - protesting the intrusion. Responsively, you gag, the stifled sound of you retching around his length filling the air as the tears welling in your eyes thicken.

By now, he’s got just under half of his cock buried into the velvet cavern of your mouth; his cockhead pressing mercilessly against the aperture of your pharynx - threatening to slip past the ring of muscles and into your oesophagus. Pools of spit seep out of the straining seal of your lips, dribbling down your chin and over his shaft, leaving your skin glistening under the amber light.  Taehyung takes in the sight of your misted gaze, and spit-stained face, and letting out a derisive coo, he indolently strokes your cheek. Thumb moving to brush your eye, he swipes one of your tears away.

“Such a messy slut,” he purrs, the snark to his words undercut by the affection that colours his eyes.

Deft fingertips tease the folds of your slit, Seokjin running his fingers through your soaked pussy. He hooks his knuckles around the small loop sticking out of you, before harshly tugging at it. As it pulls out of you, your walls stretch around the rounded girth, and easily, it slips from your cunt - aided by the copious amounts of your arousal that coat it. Despite its small size, the moment it’s out of the walls of your core, you whine in displeasure; your pussy feeling empty. However, your dissatisfaction doesn’t last long, because suddenly, an acute sensation of feverish pain floods your senses.

Out of the blue, Seokjin pours a dense stream of the liquified chocolate over the swells of your ass, the deluge flowing down the contours of your plump cheeks and towards your inner thighs - dangerously close to the lips of your cunt. Pained pleasure flares across your flesh, the heat radiating from the chocolate mixing with that of your cunt. Involuntarily, your back arches, and pushing your hips further into the air, you thrust your bare cunt towards Seokjin. Seizing the opportunity, Seokjin drags the broad of his tongue over your flesh, sensually lapping up the chocolate from your body. When his velvet appendage teases the lips of your sex, you moan in pleasure. Muscles of your pussy convulsing, your cunt releases a thick gush of wetness, your juices trickling down your slit and towards Seokjin’s tongue.

Humming under you, Seokjin places the tip of his tongue to your clit. Then, licking a line through your slit, he gathers your arousal onto the dip of his appendage. Your heady essence pools onto his palate, and your innate flavour mixing with the sweetness of the chocolate, Seokjin groans in pleasure. He presses his face deeper into your cunt, and tongue plunging into your rippling entrance, he buries it as far as he can into your internal walls. Feeling the agile muscles glide into your depths, your hips jerk in pleasure, a muffled cry of bliss resonating through the air.

Euphoria blurs your senses, and eyes fluttering shut, you feel your blood bubble with ecstasy. In response, your pharynx eases, and with a well-timed thrust, Taehyung pushes his cockhead further into your throat. Unwittingly, you swallow, and with one smooth motion, Taehyung buries the entirety of his cock into you - aided by the contracting muscles of your throat, and the spit coating his length. The thick of Taehyung’s girth pushes into your silken tightness, and with each inch he forces inside of you, the muscles of your oesophagus stretch - pulling apart around the shape of his member - until your nose is pressed against his abdomen.

“Ah- Fuck yes. That’s my Kitten,” Taehyung praises. Hands moving to grip your head, his fingers card through your scalp, only to fist around the roots of your hair.

Underneath you, Seokjin begins plunging his tongue in and out of you, accentuating each thrust with a whorl of his appendage through your walls. Each swirl has him tasting your pulsating cunt, stroking your inner flesh, and stimulating your nerve ending. Spikes of frenzied want lance through you with every ministration, and body prickling with heat, you sink further into pleasure. Nails digging into your ass, you spread your cheeks wider - purposely allowing Seokjin better access to your dripping entrance - before rocking your hips into his face.

Voluptuous lips tugging into a lopsided smirk, Seokjin retreats his tongue from inside of you. A moan of objection bubbles at the top of your throat, however, just as it starts to spill out of you and around Taehyung’s cock, you watch as the younger man exchanges a look with the older one. Curiosity colours your being, but before you can ponder their interchange, Seokjin suddenly presses something familiar flat against your clit. Abruptly, the vibrator flavours to life, and with it held to your sensitive, needy bundle of nerves, you shriek in pleasure - the sound straining around the shaft buried in your oesophagus.

Your shriek reverberates around Taehyung, and groaning at the stimulation, his hold on your hair tightens. A predatory, borderline sadistic, smirk curls onto your lovers lips, and watching the smile, your stomach somersaults. His eyes flash with mirth, and having known Taehyung for a while, you already know what’s coming - you can tell from his reaction. Without any semblance of a warning, Taehyung retreats his cock out of your throat. The veined underside drags against your tongue, and when his head reaches the aperture of your pharynx, you feel him roughly thrust back into you.

In one, fluid motion, his cock pierces into your throat once again, the feel of his blunt head ramming through the soft tightness of your oesophagus causing you to groan. Immediately, you gag around him, the lewd sounds of wet retching echoing through the air. Nevertheless, your gagging - paired with the rhythmic pulsing of your throat, and its welcoming warmth - only urge Taehyung on. One of his hands moves to wrap around your neck, and thumb pressing against the bulge of his cock, Taehyung begins gently stroking the outline.

Roughly, he begins thrusting in and out of your mouth; using your throat as his personal cocksleeve - as though it was made for his own pleasure. With each snap of his hips, his blunt head rams through your oesophagus, the smooth muscles straining around his girth, and causing your flesh to turn tender. Thumb pressing further onto your distended neck, Taehyung relishes in the feel of his shaft plunging in and out of your mouth. In response, he tightens his hold on your throat, just enough to further feel the shape of his own cock buried inside of you.

“Fuck. You’re so good for me, Kitten. Such a good cockhungry Kitten,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a particularly hard snap of his hips. “Ugh. God. You like this don’t you? You love it when I use your throat like this. When I fuck it hard, and raw,” he continues. The vulgarity of his words causes you to keen in pleasure, and tears spilling freely from your eyes, you look up at him imploringly. “Shit. Look at you. Crying while I bruise your oesophagus. You’re so good for us, Kitten. Fucking- shit,” he moans, his head falling back to rest on the headboard.

Between your thighs, Seokjin relentlessly presses the vibrator against your clit, and as it intensely thrums, you feel your clit smart with pleasure. With how hard it’s pressed to your throbbing bud, the reverberations jolting through every single one of your nerves and setting them on fire, you feel your skin flash with heat. Liquid lust floods your stomach, an intense knot forming deep within its pits. Your thighs quiver on either side of Seokjin’s face, and feeling the intensity of the toy’s thrumming, another wave of tears floods your eyes. As much as you enjoy the pleasure, it’s too much all at once - your neglected clit overly sensitive by now - and as a result, you sob around Taehyung’s cock - even as he continues thrusting it into your throat.

Vehemently, your hips squirm, in a bid to get away from the ferocious vibration. However, Seokjin is stronger than you, and all your struggle does is cause him to press the vibrator even harder into your engorged, weeping bundle of nerves. Heat blisters your skin, hot spikes of euphoria lancing at your being as your orgasm draws nearer and nearer. From the way your entrance erratically convulses, the quiver matched by your thighs and writhing hips, Seokjin knows you’re close. Tongue darting out, he presses the tip to your ringed entrance - relishing in the way it contracts around his appendage - before he tantalisingly traces the outline of your leaking hole.

“Don’t cum,” he orders, a playful lilt to his voice as he practically sings out the words. Despair intermingles with your pleasure at his words. You need to cum. In fact, with how close you are, you don’t think you even have the will to hold off. Something you know he knows. “If you cum, Taehyung will punish you,” Seokjin drawls. As he speaks, his tongue plunges further into your cunt - impaling you on the velvet muscle - and sliding into you, the vibrations of his words spark through your internal walls.

Despite his warning, between the unrelenting vibrator against your clit, and Seokjin’s words reverberating through your internal walls, you feel yourself careen off of the brim of pleasure. Ecstasy surges through you, the overwhelming euphoria of your orgasm flooding your entire being, and causing your blood to bubble within your veins. Body falling forward, your hands fall from your ass and onto the mattress, your toes curling while your fists ball into the sheets. Above you, Taehyung rips his cock out of you, and senses overpowered by rapturous bliss, you barely register the pain of his cock retreating from your oesophagus. Rather, you fall limply onto the bed, your cheek pressing to Taehyung’s thigh as you weep in pleasure.

As you drift off on the wave of your climax, Seokjin pulls the vibrator from your clit, and instead, he begins gently rubbing your clit with his thumb - drawing out your orgasm. Gradually, though, you slowly come back to reality, your breathing ragged as you gasp for air. Muscles still trembling, the fog of your orgasm clears, and you still when you realise you’d disobeyed one of Seokjin’s commands. Lifting your head, you look up at Taehyung through teary eyes, your lover simply looking down at you with a wide grin. Fingers threaded through your hair, he gently strokes your scalp. Yet, in spite of his affectionate gesture, from the dark glint in his eyes, you already know what’s coming.

“Did we give you permission to cum, Kitten?” he coos, his voice deceptively sweet.

“N-No,” you stammer, your voice hoarse, and weak - undoubtedly from when Taehyung had fucked it raw. Behind you, Seokjin bites down onto your ass, the sharp pain causing you to whimper.

“I specifically told you not to cum, Princess,” Seokjin purrs, his lips trailing kisses up your spine.

“I’m s-sorry,” you stammer, though, you already know it’s too late. Especially when you see Taehyung’s smirk widen, something wicked twinkling in his eyes.

Gently stroking your hair, “Sorry? Oh. You will be, Kitten,” he promises.

With that, the two pull away from you, and swapping places, Taehyung moves behind you, while Seokjin moves in front of you. Just like Taehyung, Seokjin is completely naked, and as you take in the sight of him lounging against the headboard, you find yourself drooling. Though, that could just be from when Taehyung had fucked your throat. Seokjin is much more built than Taehyung, sinewy muscles - honed from his time at the gym - rippling under his taut flesh. They accentuate his broad shoulders, and long limbs, somehow making his already imposing figure seem bigger than it already is.

Strong arms encircle your body, and with careful movements, Seokjin moves you back into position - getting you on your hands and knees once again. Limbs still shaky from your orgasm, however, you simply flop in his lap, your shoulders drooping to press against either of his thighs, while your face rests against the corner of his hip. Despite his dominant aura, Seokjin smiles at you, tenderly stroking the sweat-matted hair out of your eyes and behind your head. His affectionate gesture has you purring in contentment; only for the sound to morph into a rumble of wanton need when you spot his throbbing erection.

It stands at full attention between his thighs, tall and proud. His cockhead is an angry shade of cherry-mauve, and sticky with the precum leaking from his slit. From your position on his hip, it somehow looks even more daunting than it usually is, the angle of your head making it seem impossibly thick. Prominent veins streaking his length, they pulse intermittently, the surreptitious movements drawing attention to his immense girth. Mouth salivating - and this time most definitely because of him - your lips part and you whimper.

“Does my Princess want my cock in her mouth?” Seokjin coos, his fingers mindlessly toying with a strand of your hair. Nodding your head, you shift into a more upright position, your mouth impatiently hovering over his crown. Seokjin’s hand trails down to your neck, and when you wince - the internal muscles still raw - he delicately strokes the column, “Taehyung was rough with you, wasn’t he?” he murmurs. You simply nod your head in response.

“She liked it,” Taehyung chimes in from somewhere in the room, and hearing his voice further away then you’d thought him to be, you turn your head to find him. Nevertheless, this time, it’s Seokjin who stops you.

“Uh-uh. Taehyung’s had enough of your attention. Now it’s my turn,” Seokjin tuts. Hand moving from your neck, he grips the base of his shaft before smacking your lips with his cockhead twice. “Come on, Princess,” he urges.

Not needing to be told twice, your head dips forward, and tongue darting out, you drag a kittenish lick around the circumference of his glistening crown. Taste buds dragging over his cockhead, his salted precum coats your palate, and you moan in pleasure - the sound emphasised by Seokjin’s own growl of approval. Encouraged by the sound, you repeat the action -  your tongue slower this time. Placing the flat of your muscle against his slit, you lap at it, relishing in the way his arousal leaks out of him and directly onto your tongue.

Watching the action with dark eyes, “Do I taste good, Princess?” he chuckles, causing you to eagerly nod. “Then how about you worship my cock, huh?” he asks, his fingers weaving into your hair.

Warm lips brushing against his frenulum, you place a soft kiss to where his cockhead meets his shaft. Then, while keeping your eyes firmly locked onto his, you delicately trace one of the more prominent veins that ridge his shaft. Rhythmically, it pulses under the weight of your wet muscles, and savouring the discernible throb, you repeat your action. Following it to the hilt of his shaft, you take one of his balls into his mouth. You roll it gently in your mouth, revelling in the way it sits on your tongue - heavy, and full of cum. The entire time, you stare up at your lover; Seokjin’s eyes growing more and more tumultuous with each reverent action.

You release his sac with a pop, and lips dragging over the length of his underside, you track your way back to his cockhead. Mouth parting, you wrap it around his tip, only to teasingly suckle at it. Your action has Seokjin’s head lolling back, and with your gazes still locked onto each other, you take more of his head into your wanting cavern - until the entire cockhead sits just inside the seam of your lips. And it’s at that exact moment, that Taehyung returns - only to push something against the rim of your ass.

Eyes bugging out, a cry of pleasure tears from your throat - your mouth falling open around Seokjin’s cockhead. Relentlessly, Taehyung presses the toy into you - the tight of your walls gradually opening around the rounded, lubed up object. The widest part of the item strains against your puckered entrance, and feeling a light smart of pain, your body jerks when the entirety of it slips into you - your muscles swallowing it up. Fingertips brushing against your asshole, Taehyung grips something, only to twist it - and feeling the toy spin inside of your ass, you let out a moan.

Your pleasure doesn’t last long, however, because soon enough, Taehyung is pressing the elongated protrusion right up against your clit. Feeling the silicon rod nestled between the folds of your pussy, and the silicon pad against your bundle of nerves, you let out a whimper. You know exactly what it is. An anal vibrator paired with a clit stimulator. As you recognise the item, your cunt gushes involuntarily. Whatever punishment Taehyung had planned for you was undoubtedly going to be exciting - if a little intense. Though, that only has anticipation colouring your veins.

Dark gaze transfixed to your ass, Taehyung revels in the sight of your asshole quivering around the toy, and unable to help himself, he spanks your ass - hard. The sharp slap echoes through the air, causing you to cry out and jerk forward, Seokjin’s cockhead dragging across your lips and over your chin. Watching the flesh of your plump cheeks ripple, Taehyung places either of his hands onto each globe before kneading them open.

“Your ass always looks so fucking hot when it’s filled up… Can’t wait to fill it with my cock,” he murmurs; the compliment causing you to croon out his name.

However, you don’t have long to relish in his appraisal. Because, all of a sudden, the vibrator comes to life. Fiercely, it begins thrumming, stimulating the inner muscles of your ass. At the same time, the protrusion along your folds and clit begins to vibrate - the tremors stimulating your slick folds and throbbing bundle of nerves. With your recent orgasm, your cunt is still sensitive, and pleasure bolting across your sensitised nerves, you howl in pleasure. Jerking over Seokjin, your head falls onto his abdomen - his erect cock inadvertently slapping your face - while your hips writhe wildly.

“Oh fuck- Taehyung, too much,” you gasp, your ass thrashing reckless as you try to get away from the pleasure. Regardless, no matter how hard you try, the vibrator is firmly embedded inside of you - making it impossible to shy away from it.

“Too much? You don’t know too much just yet, Kitten,” Taehyung drawls. Still, even as he speaks, “Remember Princess, your safe word is ‘Roses’,” he reminds you.

“And your safe signal is snapping your fingers,” Seokjin adds. You nod your head, letting them both know that you remember.

“Good girl,” Seokjin praises with another caress of your hair. Then, lifting your head, he places your mouth above his cockhead once again. “Now, why don’t you warm my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, while Taehyung punishes you for being a disobedient slut,” Seokjin purrs.

Whimpering at his words, you do as he says, your lips automatically pouting as you take him into your mouth once again. Jaw straining around his girth, you stare at Seokjin through the thick of your lashes, basking in the heavy weight of his length against your tongue. Sooner than you’d like, his crown bumps into the back of your throat, a choked gag warning Seokjin that you can’t fit any more of him into you - lest he repeat Taehyung’s actions and force himself into your throat. However, knowing your throat needs some respite, Seokjin simply keeps himself within the confines of your mouth; revelling in the wet chasm of your silken cheeks and velvet tongue.

Out of the blue, using the moment you audibly splutter around Seokjin’s cock as a signal, Taehyung pours a considerable amount of melted chocolate onto you - all over your ass. Back arching, you hiss as the sweltering heat trickles all over your plump cheeks: trails of blistering pain flaring over your flesh. The stinging ache, paired with the intense vibrations of the toy inside your ass and against your clit, has your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. Entire body convulsing under the intense sensation, you’re suddenly flung over the edge of your orgasm, and straight into bliss.

Orgasm unexpectedly flooding through you, the unadulterated rapture surges through your nerves, invigorating each and every one of them with euphoria. Eyes screwing shut, you wail out Taehyung and Seokjin’s names; the sound coming out animalistic, and inarticulate. Responsively, the walls of your sex clamp: your ass muscles tightening around the vibrator - unwittingly causing the vibrations to intensify; while the flesh of your cunt contracts around nothing - emphasising the growing emptiness. Watching you cum, the vibrator suddenly comes to a halt, and gasping for air, you suck in a ragged breath.

Gradually, your orgasm washes through you, leaving you a trembling mess while you mindlessly suckle at Seokjin’s cock. Cool hand pressing to your thighs, Taehyung tenderly strokes the supple lengths, the repetitive motions somewhat soothing. The heat from the molten confection slowly dissipates, and through the haze of your ebbing climax, your eyebrows furrow - especially when you feel the chocolate begin to dry and harden. Sucking in a shaky breath, you look up at Seokjin curiously, your lover simply shrugging in response - already knowing what you’re asking.

“Don’t worry, Princess. Just focus on my cock, hmmm?” he reminds you. Blinking owlishly, your eyes light up with recognition - the fog of your euphoria completely clearing. Tongue flicking against his ridged underside, you begin suckling at him once again.

Without warning, Taehyung spanks you - from the tops of your thighs, to the plump flesh of your ass. Unlike before, when it was just his large palm, this time you feel a hard surface impact the supple skin, and eyes widening you recognise the sensation of the paddle. The abrupt ministration has you mewling around Seokjin’s cock, and eyelids fluttering, thick tracks of tears roll down your face. Once again, Taehyung repeats the action, though, this time, he brings the paddle onto your other cheek. Hips undulating, you push them back into him, another hoarse resonating through the air. Under his action, you feel the hardened chocolate crack, a few pieces falling to the mattress.

Taehyung shifts behind you, and picking up one of the chunks, he runs it through your pussy. Teasingly, he strokes it through your slit - the touch light, and feathery - and bringing it to your honeyed hole, he slicks the jagged slab in your arousal. A shudder runs down your spine, the tantalising caress of his fingers and the pointed edge of the chocolate causing you to groan around Seokjin’s shaft. Once the piece is sufficiently coated in your wetness, Taehyung draws it away from your cunt. Instead, he reaches around your body, Seokjin tugging your hair and pulling you off of his cock.

Dissatisfied whine of protest erupting from the midst of your throat, you unwrap your mouth from Seokjin’s thick shaft - just in time for Taehyung to drop the slick-coated chocolate directly onto the older man’s length. Pupils dilating at the sight of the dark confection against your lover’s shaft, your tongue darts out, and thoughtlessly, you lick your lips. Seokjin watches the movement, his eyes shining with mirth at the ravenous hunger sparkling in your eyes.

Stroking your hair out of your forehead, “Are you ready for your punishment, Princess?” Seokjin questions.

“This is punishment?” you counter, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them. Hearing your words, Taehyung immediately brings the paddle onto your ass. The impact hits harder this time, a heavy smack resounding through the air while more of the dried chocolate falls from your body. Sharp pain erupts over your tender flesh, causing shockwaves of smarting pleasure to ripple across your veins.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Kitten,” Taehyung warns, the edge of the paddle running down the seam of your ass, only for him to press it against the toy in your ass. His gesture has the vibrator pushing in deeper, and head falling forward, your chest rumbles in bliss.

An airy laugh tremors from Seokjin’s throat, “Your punishment is Taehyung paddling that pretty little ass till it’s nice and tender,” he purrs. Then tugging your head towards his cock, the piece of chocolate still resting precarious on his throbbing erection, “This is just for fun,” he continues. “Now, suck.”

Face lowering, you wrap your mouth around his cock once again, Seokjin slipping the chocolate between your teeth just before you enclose your lips around his girth. Instantly, the creamy sweetness of the cocoa bursts onto your palate, the sugary essence mixing with the heady one of your own wetness, and the slightly salty bitterness of Seokjin’s precum. They mingle together onto your tongue, the tastes blending together into an inebriating flavour that has the inner flesh of your cheeks salivating. Moaning around the heavy intrusion in your mouth, you expertly manoeuvre the piece to the underside of Seokjin’s cock, and pressing the flat of your tongue against it, you begin lapping at both the chocolate, and his shaft.

Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail, Seokjin angles your head to look up at him. Turbulent eyes, rife with desirous hunger, take you in, before he lets out a low growl, “God, Taehyung was right. You really are pretty when you look at us with a mouth full of cock.” You purr in response, your tongue dragging over the chocolate and towards a pulsating vein that runs along his length. Out of nowhere, the vibrator inside of you begins humming. The suddenness of it has your body jerking, your spine contorting as your mouth falls open in pleasure.

“O-Oh f-fuck,” you raspily weep, your eyes screwing shut at the mingling sensations. Simultaneously, the vibrations stimulate the tight muscles of your ass, along with the throbbing bud of your clit. Unadulterated bliss floods your nerve endings, your stomach quivering in tandem to the pulsating toy within you. Breathing turning ragged, you distractedly suckle at Seokjin’s chocolate stained cock.

As the vibrator pulses inside you, Taehyung brings the paddle onto your ass again in four rapt slaps, alternating between each of your cheeks. With each impact, the punishing force increases, aided by his strong arms, and causing a strangled cry of pain and pleasure to bubble from your throat. Every collision of the hard surface against your soft cheek has more and more of the dried chocolate cracking and falling off of your skin. More of your bare flesh revealed, the next of Taehyung’s spanks lands directly onto your plump muscle, and though the fatty tissue absorbs some of the impact, your ass still flares with heat.

“P-Please… T-Taehyung,” you cry out, the words hoarse and slightly broken.

Between the intense reverberations of the silicon toy, and the powerful spanks of the paddle, you begin to sob and moan: the blistering pain interweaving with euphoric rapture. Tears well within your eyes, thick tracks of salt running down your cheeks, as you lose yourself in the juxtaposing sensations. Taehyung’s eyes drop to the side of your raw ass and puffy cunt. Filled with the silicon toy, your puckered rim twitching intermittently - the tight muscles threatening to push out the object with each contraction. Just below, thick strings of your arousal seep out of your pussy, the filmy ropes hanging in the air and sticking to the sides of your thighs.

“Do you like that, Kitten? The way I spank your ass raw while you suck Seokjin’s cock?” Taehyung intones, the derisive lilt heavy in his voice. You merely let out a garble of affirmation, your tongue loosened by pleasure, and weighed down by the velvet weight of your other lover’s shaft.

The overwhelming ecstasy soon grows far too intense, and wildly, you begin writhing your hips. Deliberately, you attempt to evade Taehyung’s paddles, while simultaneously trying to push the vibrator out of you. Nonetheless, as if locked onto your plump globes, Taehyung strikes you with practiced ease; alternating between the harsh spanks and pressing the edge to your ass, keeping the toy pressed into the snug heat of your ass. A sweltering heat overcomes you, your nerves set afire by Taehyung’s ministration, and thighs shaking erratically, you sob out the names of your lovers.

“T-Too m-much. It’s t-too much,” comes your distorted whine, your nails scratching the mattress.

Hearing the inarticulate garble of your words, Seokjin coos, “Aww, has my Princess had enough of her punishment?” Through the thick fog of pleasure, you vaguely register his words and nod your head. Behind you, Taehyung brings the paddle onto your cheeks - right in the middle - causing you to howl.

“Are you sorry, Kitten?” he questions. Barely able to form coherent sentences, you nod your head while blubbering. Nonetheless, despite your answer, Taehyung spanks you once again. “Why are you sorry?” he asks.

You suck in a shaky, jagged breath, “I’m s-sorry for cumming w-without your p-permission,” you weep.

“Good Kitten. Now, cum,” Taehyung orders, pressing the paddle’s edge to the toy. His ministration forces the thrumming vibrator further into you, and as the silicon protrusion presses against your clit - intensifying the reverberations - you wail out both their names.

Dry sob emanating from your lips, the heightened pleasure hurtles you off of the edge. Viciously, your body trembles - every muscle quivering with ecstasy - as you come undone between them. Mouth falling open, you release Seokjin’s cock, your cheek falling listlessly onto his thigh as your orgasm rockets through you. White spots blind your vision, and the knot in your stomach unravelling abruptly, your body stills. Then, with an ear-piercing shriek, an intense sense of rapture overwhelms you, only to be replaced by an intoxicating sense of relief - powerful gushes of your cum squirting out of you. Feeling your arousal pelt his thighs - the deep scent of your sex deepening - Taehyung lets out a groan.

Immediately, he rips the toy out of you - the sudden stimulation making you sob harder - only to press his fingers to your clit. He furiously begins rubbing your clit, his ministration drawing out your orgasm even further. The pain of overstimulation grips at your cunt, and eyes screwing shut, your jerk your hips - in a bid to get away from him. Seeing the way you shy from him, along with your fucked out state, Taehyung takes pity on you, allowing you to flop bonelessly onto the mattress as you come down from your high. The tide of your climax ebbs through you, and drifting down to reality, you inhale a deep, ragged breath. Cunt trembling erratically, you whine when the ache between your thighs grows prominent - your walls desperate to feel something fill it up.

“F-Fuck me,” you stammer, your words weak and raspy - the tender muscles of your throat straining under the sound. Delicately, Taehyung’s fingers flit down your spine, and tracing invisible shapes onto the surface of your skin, he bends over and presses a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Climb onto Seokjin,” he urges.

Strong arms wrap around you, and feeling Seokjin gather you into his arms, you allow him to place your body onto his lap. Once your thighs are straddling his hips, Seokjin grips the base of his thick shaft and runs the head through your folds. A wanton mewl spills from your mouth, your sex splaying around his leaking cockhead as he stains your saturated flesh in his own precum. Hips squirming, you attempt to position him at your entrance and take him into you - your desperation rising twofold. Letting out a throaty chuckle, Seokjin leans forward and nips your jaw, your eyes fluttering at the sensation, before he lowers you onto his cock.

The blunt pressure of his crown presses up against the ringed muscles of your entrance, and your head falling backwards, you feel his head pop into you. Your body twitches, the sudden, thick intrusion causing you to croon in pleasure. A searing burn ripples through your cunt, your muscles protesting the way his immense girth stretches out your inner walls. Behind you, Taehyung places his hand onto the middle of your back, and pushing it, he causes you to fall forward. Your hands instantly move to brace themselves on the headboard, on either side of Seokjin’s body.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Such a tiny little cunt. Are you going to be able to take my cock, Princess?” Seokjin taunts, a playful, lopsided smirk teasing at his lips.

Keening in pleasure, “I can take it,” you respond, the words coming out higher pitched than you’d intended.

“Then take it,” he growls.

Utilising your new position, Seokjin’s hands trail down to grip the swells of your hips, and fingers digging into them, he lowers you further onto his cock. Inch by inch, he fills you up - the broad width of his shaft spreading your innermost walls, shaping them around his cock. As his cock pierces into the warm sheath of your body, his length seems almost unending, and soon, a dull pressure builds up within your abdomen. Dropping your gaze down, it trails past the ripped expanse of his torso - each muscle rippling under his taut skin - and towards your entrance.

Guttural groan spilling from your throat, you relish in the sight of Seokjin’s cock impaling you - your walls clenching involuntarily when you realise he’s only about half way into you. Walls of your cunt tightening around his shaft, Seokjin lets out a growl, his fingers digging further into your hips - hard enough that you worry he’ll bruise them. Behind you, Taehyung’s dark eyes are fixated onto your cunt, his gaze soaking in the way the muscles of your entrance stretch thin around Seokjin - your cunt clearly straining to fit the large intrusion. It’s almost too erotic for him, and his erection becoming almost too painful, he begins pumping it with his fist.

“Fuck. Look at the way that pussy stretches. Such a greedy little hole,” Taehyung purrs, his hand palming his cock faster.

Seokjin continues burying himself into your velvet depths, and as he pushes deeper into you, the dull ache in your stomach morphs into a blunt ache. Mouth falling open in a strained cry, your fingers curl around the headboard - in a bid to find some much needed purchase - your knuckles turning white under the hold. Breath turning harsh, your hips start to writhe, your body looking for a sense of reprieve from the unrelenting hardness piercing into you. Nonetheless, all you do is cause Seokjin to slip further into you - your trembling walls rhythmically gripping his walls in a pleasurable massage.

Unexpectedly, with a sudden thrust, Seokjin sinks the remainder of his cock into you. In one fluid motion, the crown of his cockhead bumps into the soft walls of your cervix, your ass simultaneously pressing flush against his thighs. The sudden plunge has your muscles locking, and back contorting viciously, you cry out in pleasure. Pain flares through your insides, a blistering heat flooding through your cunt as your internal walls are forced to stretch around his girthy shaft. Underneath you, Seokjin hisses - your sheath gripping him almost painfully - and leaning forward, he roughly bites down onto your nipple.

“Oh fuck- you’re so fucking wet… and tight,” he groans.

“Mmm, her cunt looks so good stuffed with cock,” Taehyung hums. Dexterous fingers moving to where both you and Seokjin are connected, the younger man begins tracing the tight seal of your entrance. The feathery motion has you crooning, your ringed muscles twitching under his touch. Taehyung lets out a soft laugh, and trailing his fingers up, he begins circling his digits around the puckered rim, “But… you’ll look even better with my cock in your ass,” he continues.

Hands curling from your hips to your ass, Seokjin palms both of your plump globes into his hand, and fingernails pressing into your skin, he pulls them apart - splaying you open for Taehyung. At Seokjin’s gesture, the younger man lets out a hum of thanks. Bed dipping behind you, Taehyung shifts further down the mattress, until his face is level with your spread ass. Boldly, his tongue darts out, and then placing it to your cunt, he licks at both your spread pussy, and Seokjin’s thick cock. Twin sounds of pleasure echo through the air, Seokjin’s groan intermingling with your moan, both of your hips bucking into Taehyung’s face.

Corners of his lips twitching, Taehyung smirks, and repeats the action - the velvet appendage moving slower this time. Teasingly, he laves at where your sexes are connected: the point of his tongue tracing the outline of your straining ring of muscles, as well as the girth that splits it open. Heavy strings of your arousal pool onto his tongue, your wetness oozing through your sheath and onto Seokjin’s balls, and he gathers as much as he can onto the hollow of his palate. Then, trailing his tongue upwards, he licks through the seam of your ass. Breath caught in your throat, your oesophageal muscles tighten, and when you feel him flatten his tongue against your asshole, a deep moan emanates from your chest.

“My Kitten loves getting her ass eaten, doesn’t she?” Taehyung laughs, his voice lowering by a few octaves. Each word has his warm breath wafting over your ass, causing you to shudder and nod your head. With another laugh, Taehyung spits onto your asshole - dribbling a concoction of his own spit and your arousal onto the tight entrance.

You feel the mixture tail along your asshole, and down towards your filled cunt - the combined fluids slickening your puckered rim. Through rapt fascination, Taehyung scrutinises the sporadically twitching rings of muscles. The entrance of your ass slightly gapes, and as the muscles contract, they inadvertently suck in the mix of juices into you. As though entranced by the sight, he drags his finger through the sloppy mess and lubricates his finger in as much of it as he can. Then, slowly, he presses the tip of his forefinger against your asshole.

Body perking at the sensation, you sit up slightly - the movement causing Seokjin’s cockhead to ram further into the groove of your cervix. A gasp of shock falls from your lips, the sound mingled with pleasure, as you feel Taehyung slide his finger into your ass - the length aided by the makeshift lube - until it’s hilt deep in you. Experimentally, he wriggles it inside of you, and feeling the hot muscles of your ass stimulated, your body falls forward once again. Seizing the opportunity, Seokjin’s mouth encloses around your pert nipple.

“A-Ah. Hyungie…  Jinnie…” you moan, a shudder running down your spine at the mix of sensations.

Seokjin’s cock is still completely sheathed inside of you - his pulsating member stroking every single one of your erogenous zones. Meanwhile, his teeth harshly tease your nipple - his tongue languidly whorling around the hardened buds outline, while he bites and suckles at it roughly. At the same time, Taehyung thrusts his finger into you, twisting it intermittently as he tests the pliancy of your ass. Tingles of pleasure race up and down your spine, and noticing the way your cunt clenches - pulsating in tandem to Taehyung’s finger plunging in and out of your asshole - Seokjin grins against your breast.

“Come on Taehyung, hurry up and prep that cute ass so we can fuck her,” he urges. Words vibrating against your tit, you gasp in ecstasy, a fresh wave of arousal dripping out of you and down Seokjin’s balls.

Emboldened by the older man’s words, Taehyung presses a second finger into your back entrance. Under the ministration, your features twist into a wince - a dull sting rippling through you at the stretch. However, from the amount of times both Seokjin and Taehyung have fucked your ass, it quickly dissipates, morphing into blissful euphoria. Taehyung begins thrusting two fingers into your ass, alternating between wiggling them and plunging them hilt deep into you. Over and over again, you feel his digits drive into you, the sensation stimulating Seokjin’s cock and your pussy through the thin lining that separates your cunt from your ass.

Out of nowhere, Taehyung splays his fingers, and feeling your ass stretch around, you let out a hollow moan. Taehyung immediately thrusts his tongue into the gaping hole, and feeling his wet appendage stroke the inner walls of your back entrance, your hollow moan transforms into a guttural groan. Expertly, he licks your ass, his velvet muscle whorling against the internal flesh as he douses them in a thick coating of his spit. His actions cause your blood to bubble in your veins, and heat prickling at your skin, unbridled pleasure flits over your being.

Pulling his tongue out of you, Taehyung pours something into you. A cold sensation floods your ass, and feeling the lube slide into your depths, a soughed croon spills from your lips. Digits pumping into you once again, Taehyung spreads the substance over your walls - leaving them slick in a mixture of his spit and the lubrication. Once your ass is sufficiently wet, he spreads his fingers one final time, only to spit into your ass. The thick blob slides into your open hole, and as the warmth of it runs along your walls, your puckered rim twitches. Fingers retreating out of your asshole, Taehyung suddenly spanks your fleshy cheek.

Hand palming at the cheek, “There we go. Nice and prepped,” he murmurs.

“Taehyung… please,” you whimper, and urgency evident in your voice, both your lovers laugh.

Not one to disappoint, Taehyung shifts closer to you. With Seokjin still keeping your ass spread, the younger man grips his cock and presses the head to your puckered entrance. Feeling his leaking cockhead stroke your lubricious back entrance, you mewl in wanton need and purposely buck your hips into you. Palm dropping to the small of your back, Taehyung keeps a heavy hand onto your body, the firm pressure causing you to still. Then, he begins pressing forward. The moment he applies pressure to your asshole, however, your muscles autonomously clench.

Bulbous cockhead pushing against your back entrance, Taehyung groans, “This is going to be a tight fit.”

All of a sudden, with a strong thrust, Taehyung squeezes his cock through the tight ring of muscles - the crown only slightly fighting the constricting hole. Walls flaring with a searing burn, you shriek out Taehyung’s name - your asshole rendered even tighter by Seokjin’s immense girth buried into your cunt. Face lowering, Taehyung’s plump lips graze over your shoulder, and pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, he gently hushes you. Below you, Seokjin soothingly lavishes kisses along your sternum, his hands caressing your ass in comfort.

“B-Big,” you shallowly gasp, tears stinging at your eyes once again.

“You can do it, Princess,” Seokjin murmurs, his words rumbling between the valley of your breasts.

Thick by thick inch, Taehyung feeds his unyielding hardness into your ass, pulling the flesh apart and around the shape of his cock. With every part of his length that impales you, your pliant back entrance stretches - his blunt cockhead spearing further and further into you. Halfway buried into you, you let out a whine of pain, your fingernails digging into the wood of the headboard. Between Seokjin’s cock in your cunt, and Taehyung’s shaft pushing into your asshole, you’re sure that you’re going to split apart.

“So… fucking… tight,” Taehyung breathes out, short pants breaking the words apart, the restraint heavy in his baritone.

In spite of the pain that floods through your sex, you whimper in pleasure - an undercurrent of euphoria weaving the stinging ache as your lovers fill you up in a way only they can. Their hard cocks stretch you out, their lengths carving their shape into your waiting, and welcoming, depths. Eventually, however, Taehyung bottoms out within you - the hilt of his shaft pressing to your puckered, while his hips slap the plump cheeks of your ass. Throat tightening at the overwhelming fullness, your lips part in a silent scream.

“T-Taehyung, S-Seokjin” you whimper.

Nuzzling his nose into the back of your hair, “I’m here, Kitten,” Taehyung mutters.

“Me too, Princess,” Seokjin follows, his own lips pressing a tender kiss to your nipple.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you voluntarily clench your ass around his their cocks. As your muscles tighten, “Fuck-” they groans.

“Please… fuck me,” you urge. Simultaneously, as if they’ve practiced, they both inhale a deep, steadying breath.

“Shit. Hold on then,” Seokjin remarks.

“Get ready, Kitten. We’re going to fuck you till you cry,” Taehyung warns.

You open your mouth to retort, however, at the exact moment, the both of them retreat out of you - their lengths dragging against each other through the thin lining between your cunt and ass. Then, abruptly, they drive back into you. Instantaneously, the words on your lips die. Instead, a strangled cry of ecstasy is forced from the base of your throat. Without any further warning, they snap their hips, their cocks hammering into your warm, heated depths. As their lengths surge into the sheath of your body, you scream out their names.

Their pace is stilted for a few moments, their rough thrusts causing your body to jerk and bounce over them as blinding ecstasy overtakes your senses. However, swiftly, and with practiced ease, they quickly fall into rhythm with each other. Each movement has them plunging their cocks as deep into you as they can, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filling the air, and with each sound, they elicit a moan from deep within their chest. A fierce pressure builds in the pit of your abdomen from their brutal thrusts, and toes curling in pleasure, you allow them to practically rut into you - their cocks slamming into your depths over and over again.

“F-Fuck… H-Harder,” you urge, in spite of the sharpening ache that builds within your stomach.

At your behest, they somehow increase their movements, and their new, borderline punishing pace, has your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. Their change in motion alters their rhythm, and instead of plunging into you at the same time, now, when Seokjin thrusts into your cunt, Taehyung pulls out of your ass. Only for Seokjin to then retreat from your cunt, and for Taehyung to pierce his shaft into your back entrance. Mercilessly, they use your body as their cocksleeve, and their veined cocks drag against every single erogenous zone buried in your innermost walls.

A mix of desirous need and blissful euphoria courses through your bloodstream, and feeling spikes of white-hot heat lance at your being, your body begins trembling. Delirious with pleasure, and as a result of their cocks constantly slamming into you, your low moans morph into slurred sobs. The fog of euphoria descends upon you, and as its haze clouds your mind, you lose yourself into the relentless pleasure they reap onto your body. Soon, your walls begin rippling around them, and as both your cunt and ass grip their shafts, both your lovers let out throat groans.

“Fuck, I’m not going to last long. Your ass is so... fucking... tight,” Taehyung intones deeply, each word emphasised by a harsh thrust that drives his cock further into your back entrance.

Below you, while mouthing at your bouncing tit, “Same here. God, you’re so fucking wet… and your cunt won’t stop tightening around my cock,” Seokjin breathlessly adds before biting onto your nipple.

“C-Cum in me. P-Please,” you stammer, and tongue loosened by pleasure, your words come out distorted. Nonetheless, understanding them, your lovers quicken their pace - something you’d thought wholly impossible.

“Are you close, Princess?” Seokjin questions, causing you to nod your head furiously.

Taehyung’s hand curls around your body, and pushing it between your thighs, he begins furiously rubbing your clit. Lips falling to your shoulder, he bites down - hard enough to leave the indents of his teeth into your flesh - and, “Cum,” he orders.

That one action has you suddenly careening off of the precipice of your climax, and diving head first into sheer, unadulterated pleasure. A croaked sob falls from your lips, and blubbering out their name, you feel hot tears stream down your cheeks. Veins sweltering with burning euphoria, you feel the heat of your orgasm flood your entire being. Between them, your entire body begins convulsing, and back contorting violently, your walls clamp around them in a vice-like grip. Throughout your orgasm, your lovers continue fucking into you, their cocks spearing into your cunt and ass respectively, paired with Taehyung ruthlessly toying with your clit, you feel the knot in your stomach suddenly loosen.

High of your orgasm consuming you wholly, you feel an overwhelming elation sweep through you, and carrying you on it’s tide, you float away from reality. Walls clenching almost painfully, Seokjin and Taehyung hiss as they feel powerful jets of cum squirt out of you - the wetness gushing against both their thighs, as well as Seokjin’s abdomen. As you gush around Seokjin’s cock, your cum soaking into the sheets below you, twin roars fill the air. Using your own stick juices as lubrication, both of them slam into you at the same time - burying their cocks as deep into you as is humanly possible.

Without any warning, their cocks swell inside of you, and viciously pulsating, they begin to cum. Thick rope after thick rope of their warm essence floods your depths; Seokjin emptying himself deep into your cunt - his seed spilling directly against your quivering cervix - while Taehyung’s own cum pours straight into the rippling depths of your ass. Through the blurry haze of your orgasm, you vaguely register their warmth enveloping your guts, their heavy seed painting your flesh white. Responsively, the walls of your pussy and ass clench around their cocks, the battered muscles milking as much of their cum out of their lengths and into you.

The three of you sail down from your ecstatic highs, and as the euphoria ebbs away, you’re left basking in the post-orgasmic haze that enshrouds the three of you. Chest heaving for air - in a bid to satiate the dull ache in your lungs - you bonelessly flop onto Seokjin, every ounce of your energy dissipating from your bones. Automatically, Seokjin’s arms wind around you, a small mewl slipping from your lips when you feel his warm chest press flush against your own. Body still wired, you tremble in his arms - your muscles quaking intermittently as the aftershocks of your orgasm continue sweeping through you.

Gradually, the blurry fog clears from your mind, and brain kicking into gear, you let out a small moan when you feel the way their cum fills up your depths. You don’t get time to relish in the feeling, however, because soon, Taehyung begins pulling his cock out of your ass. Flaccid shaft slipping from your depths, you flinch, his length dragging across your raw inner flesh. The moment he retreats out of you completely, his cum rushes out of you, and as it leaks from your gaping asshole, you let out another groan. Eyes dropping to the sight, Taehyung lets out a growl of approval.

“Sloppy slut,” he coos, and despite the derisive words, the affection in his intonation causes you to preen. Then, with a kiss to your naked, sweat-soaked shoulder, you feel Taehyung climb off of the bed.

With the younger man disappearing, Seokjin takes the opportunity to gently flip the two of you over. Body weary, your muscles protest the movement, a displeasured groan emanating from your throat. Seokjin only chuckles at the sound, and when you're firmly on your back, he slowly pulls his own cock out of your battered cunt. Once again, you let out a wince, your thighs trembling at the sensitivity in your core. Bending forward, Seokjin presses a kiss to your forehead, before murmuring a gentle apology. You sigh at his gesture, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips.

In a matter of moments, Taehyung returns to the two of you, a glass of water and a damp towel in his head. As he approaches the bed, he hands Seokjin the cup, the older man pulling away from you and towards your side, while Taehyung takes his place between your thighs. Perching beside you, Seokjin lifts your back using his strength, and after he’s propped you up, he places the rim of the glass to your lips. Coolness of the water teasing your lips, your throat suddenly feels dry, and swiftly, you gulp down the drink.

“Slowly,” Seokjin warns, his hand automatically lowering the glass. You merely nod your head, before slowing down.

Meanwhile, Taehyung spreads your thighs, pulling apart your puffy folds, he begins swiping the warm cloth through your sex - clearing up the mess. Delicately, he runs the towel over you, from your leaking cunt, to your dripping asshole. It only takes him a few moments, and once you’re thoroughly clean - every trace of your mixed fluids soaked into the terry cloth fabric - he presses a soft kiss to the top of your mound. As his plump lips caress your oversentised clit, you moan, your hand autonomously moving to push his head away as your thighs clamp shut.

Laughing, “Sorry,” Taehyung apologises.

“It’s okay… Thank you,” you murmur, your nose wrinkling when the raw muscles of your oesophagus strain.

Seokjin places the empty glass on the bedside table, while Taehyung haphazardly throws the dirtied towel on the ground. Then, the two of them climb into bed beside you. Warmth of their bodies flanking either side of you, you snuggle further into the sheets, your eyes begin to droop from your exhaustion. Seokjin’s hand drops to your bare abdomen, and mindlessly, his fingers begin flitting over the soft flesh. At the same time, Taehyung nestles into your side, and face burying into the side swell of your breast, he gently nips the skin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, ____,” they both murmur, Seokjin pressing a kiss to your temple, while Taehyung presses one to your breast.

Eyebrow furrowing, “It’s not Valentine’s Day. Not for another couple of days” you respond, causing them both to laugh lightly.

“It was supposed to be a spontaneous surprise,” Seokjin answers, and this time, you giggle.

“Was it as spontaneous and thrilling as you wanted it to be?” Taehyung questions, his lips twisting into a lop-sided smile against your skin.

“Mmmm. Definitely…” you sigh in response. Then, after a brief pause, “Although… I’m going to be fucking sore tomorrow,” you grumble. Once again, the two of them laugh.

“Well… you know the best remedy for that...” Taehyung begins, one of his hands teasingly wrapping around your thigh.

“Is to continue working through the soreness,” Seokjin finishes, his own hand moving to palm at your breast.

“Oh my god. You’re both insatiable,” you gripe, your hands batting their hands away from your body.

“Only for you,” Taehyung quips.

“Yeah, I’m already starving again,” Seokjin growls.

“I could go for another round of dessert,” Taehyung nods.

At their exchange, you simply shake your head. Sighing, “Later. I need a nap first.”

“Hmmm. We’ll hold you to that,” they reply, and as the twin sounds echo through the room, you sigh in exasperation. Valentine’s Day or not, you’re sure they’re going to run your body ragged before letting you out of the hotel suite.

DISCLAIMER ⏤ THIS IS A PIECE OF FICTION. DO NOT TRY SOME OF THIS AT HOME. DO NOT POUR MELTED CHOCOLATE ONTO YOUR PUSSY OR ASSHOLE!!!!

a/n: anyway : ) i hope : ) you : ) busted : ) a : ) fat : ) nut : )

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[marjansmarwani]

Becoming a Home

2.2k || ao3

Carlos Reyes had always wanted his house to be a home. Moving out and buying a house of his own showed him that was more difficult than he had thought and in time he came to accept that maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for him. Until a certain Firefighter barreled his way into his life, that is. Now he thinks they might just be on their way there.  

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Day 1 of @911lonestarweek: “You’re the only one for me” + Romance

This was inspired by a fic that @justaswampdemon has been working on because I love the idea but while her’s is funny (and wonderful, you’ll all need to read it while it’s done) I wanted to do something a little more introspective. 

Beta’d by @silvarafael

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Carlos Reyes had grown up in a home, not a house. 

His mother had always been purposeful to make it so. Their home was always filled to the brim with family, laughter, food, and love. Carlos could scarcely remember a day in which their home had ever been silent. He knew for a fact that it had never felt cold, that not once had it ever been impersonal. It had always been a comfort; perpetually warm and welcoming. 

When he had moved out, had settled down in a house of his own; he had strived to do the same. But despite his best efforts, it turned out to be more difficult than he had imagined. He opened his doors and his heart and waited, hoping to replicate that same feeling; that same warmth. Friends and dates and boyfriends filtered through, coming and going from time to time without ever leaving any mark behind. 

Even Michelle - his most frequent visitor - floated in and out, never really seeming to settle. She was comfortable there, sure; but Michelle Blake was comfortable everywhere she went. Carlos didn’t take it personally. He knew more than most how much she had going on and where her mind was when it was somewhere else. He told himself all these fleeting interactions were fine, that he preferred it that way; that he appreciated the silence and solitude. 

He almost believed it too. 

He settled into a rhythm, learned to love the peace and quiet. It gave him time to focus on him; to explore the things that he loved. He read more books, he blasted his music, he tried new recipes. He even enjoyed it; this time to himself.  But the desire for more, for that familiar warmth of a home was always there, a thought always relegated to the back of his mind. But what he had was fine, it would do for now. 

Enter TK Strand, who blew up Carlos’s entire existence without even trying. 

At first, it’s no different from the others: he comes and goes; quick hookups and frantic kisses before he’s back out the door and Carlos is left trying to catch his breath. Then Carlos tries to do too much too soon and even those hookups are over, for a while. 

Eventually, they find their way back to each other and though it is tentative and careful, it’s something, Carlos is sure of it. The hookups become less frantic, the time spent lingering increases. TK is there more and more often and maybe, just maybe, it feels right. 

Then the universe interrupts with a bang - literally. 

The day TK is shot Carlos came home from the hospital to his empty condo and does not think he has ever hated the silence more. He and TK may not have a label but they are something and now TK is hurt and Carlos doesn’t know what to do with himself, with all this pain in his heart.

He leaned against the door, trying not to remember how they had woken up together just this morning - an occurrence that was becoming more and more frequent. It was becoming common enough that Carlos was almost optimistic enough to hope that it would be a sign of things to come. 

But that couldn’t happen if TK was dead. 

He banished that thought from his head as he pushed himself off the door and strode purposefully towards the kitchen. No, he wouldn’t even let himself think it; he wouldn’t even put that idea out into the universe. What he needed was a distraction, something to focus on that wasn’t the thought of TK in a coma, that wasn’t the memory of hearing the gunshot and just knowing that something was wrong. 

Dwelling on it wouldn’t do him any good, he knew that. He needed a distraction and so he gravitated to the kitchen, as he so often did. He would make bread, he decided: something labor-intensive and precise. Besides, the idea of kneading something was appealing right now. 

He set about pulling out the ingredients, steadying his breathing as he went. He reminded himself that he had every reason to be optimistic, that there was no real reason to expect the worst. TK had received treatment immediately, had been rushed to the hospital within minutes. He had everything going for him; as much as someone who had been shot could, at least. It worked, if even only a little. 

Then he turned to the sink to get the water he would need for the dough, and the sight of two coffee mugs - sitting innocently side by side, waiting to be washed - almost toppled him. 

He remembered now the quick moment where he had slid them into the sink before he and TK had walked out the door. He could see TK’s grin as he sipped from his mug clear as day, raising his eyebrows suggestively as Carlos had lamented that if they had gotten moving sooner they could have had time for breakfast too. He had fired back some quip about them choosing exercise over food that had caused Carlos to laugh, nearly choking on his coffee in the process. 

The image in his head of that moment was filled with a warmth he had felt more and more. It was the feeling he had been seeking all along, the sensation he had always wanted to feel from his home. He had been starting to feel the beginnings of it with TK. He didn’t want to lose that;  he didn’t want to lose him. He was so close to having the home that he wanted, the life that he had pictured for himself was in reach. 

But it had become increasingly more apparent to Carlos that a certain firefighter was an integral part of the equation. He had been trying for years only to find that there had been a missing piece all along. 

Carlos didn’t know what it was: his laughter, his smile, his voice or maybe a little bit of everything. What was certain was that TK made his house feel like home. He had brought mess and noise into his otherwise clean and orderly life and Carlos knew without a doubt that it was exactly what he had needed. He didn’t want to lose that, he didn’t think he could handle it. After so long he had finally found exactly what he had been looking for. He just needed someone or something in the universe to listen, to take pity. He just needed TK to be okay. 

Everything after that would be fine, Carlos was sure of it. 

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

Someone in the universe must have been listening because TK is okay, in the end. And after a bit of confusion, so are they. 

More than okay actually, in Carlos’s opinion. They wanted to start fresh but having already laid all of the foundations, it was no time at all before they fell into comfortable patterns. That warmth Carlos had noticed and longed for returned and it filled his home with every laugh and smile the other man shared. 

TK became more of a fixture at the condo; stuck waiting outside for Carlos to get home enough that Carlos gave him a key. He jokes it’s so that the neighbors won’t call the cops about a suspicious man loitering, but really it’s an offering; a stepping stone. A gesture to say that he hopes that maybe this could be TK’s home too, someday. 

Slowly his things started joining Carlos’s: a change of clothes in the drawer, his running shoes by the door.  A cheesy figurine TK had brought for Carlos as a joke, a vase they had bought at the farmer’s market because TK thought it would look nice in the entryway. The charger for his AirPods in the kitchen and the change from his pocket on the nightstand. Small and inconsequential bits of his life maybe, but tangible proof that TK had been here and that he planned to come back. 

Soon it is not just TK’s things filling the space but his friends as well. Carlos had offered to host them all once the pandemic hit as a way to maintain some sense of normalcy. He hadn’t been sure what to expect with inviting an entire fire station into his condo (though he did have a private laugh at the look of horror he could picture from his dad, the Texas Ranger, at the very thought) but the sound of laughter and casual banter-filled his kitchen and his heart in a way he had almost forgotten. 

It wasn’t long before his friends became their friends and that warmth he had been chasing for so long lingered more and more. He felt it in the sound of laughter and light conversation, he felt the heat of it lingering as he and TK lay in each other’s arms on the couch, stealing a moment of solitude before they cleaned up from the evening's festivities. 

It’s on one such night, while they were cleaning up, that Carlos noticed TK was quieter than usual. They worked in companionable silence but Carlos stole glances at the other man as he put away the clean dishes, trying to decipher the storm in his head. Minutes passed and Carlos was about to ask what was on his mind when TK spoke. 

“Your house must have been so quiet, before.” 

Carlos looked up from the sink with a start to see TK surveying the space thoughtfully. “I’m definitely sure there were no rowdy firefighters eating all your food.” 

“You don’t know that,” Carlos countered, “maybe I had some secret firefighter friends before you came to town.” 

“I don’t think so, babe,” TK retorted with a raised eyebrow, “firefighters are awful gossips, I would have heard” 

“It has been a change,” Carlos agreed, thinking about the smile that had come across his face at the sound of laughter drifting through his living room and the sight of their friends smiling as he sat with his arms around TK on the couch just a few hours ago. It was so different from his life before, but in the best possible way.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather be with someone who didn’t bring this level of chaos to your life?” TK asked and though his tone was kept purposefully light Carlos could hear the doubt lurking directly behind the words. 

“No,” Carlos said decisively, shutting off the water and turning to face TK, stepping forward and placing his hands on the other man’s hips, and meeting his eyes. They were so full of doubt that it caused a physical ache to shoot through Carlos’s core. He held them though as he said his next words very clearly, need to make sure TK understood that there was no doubt in his mind: “You’re the only one for me. Friends and all, no one else even comes close. You are it for me, Tyler Kennedy.” 

There is silence in the wake of his words, but Carlos knows in his heart it is a different quiet than he had been so accustomed to. It wasn’t cold or impersonal, it didn’t echo with solitude and loneliness. It was a comfortable silence of two people coexisting; using the silence to hear each other, to grow. It was just another piece of the home he had been trying to build. 

“I never liked the quiet,” he admitted, hands still on TK’s waist. “Growing up, our house was never quiet.” 

“Mine always was,” TK confessed, “there was never anybody around to make it not be quiet. I hated it.” 

His voice was soft as he admitted that and Carlos tightened his grip on his waist, pulling him closer. 

“I never wanted my home to feel like that,” he told TK honestly. “All I have ever wanted is for my home to be full of warmth and laughter and love. I never had those until you came along. You’ve made my house into a home, Ty. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly thank you for that.” 

When TK looked up to meet his eyes Carlos was startled to see that they were full of tears. He reached up a hand to cup Carlos’s face as he spoke: “You are home to me, Carlos. You have been for a while. If anything, I should be thanking you. What we have together? It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of. To know that you are happy is all I could ever ask for.”

Carlos leaned into TK’s touch, savoring the warmth and familiarity of it. He thought about the words TK had just shared and the key that he offered not so long ago. He saw a life for them together; filled with laughter and love and friends and family. He had been too afraid to ask, still wary from the early days when pushing had almost been their end, determined to not seek too much too soon and risk it all. But the way TK was holding his gaze left few questions in Carlos’s mind. All he would have to do is ask, and it would be done. He leaned in closer, capturing TK’s mouth in a kiss that he hoped conveyed the words he couldn’t say just yet, to tell him what he now knew. 

Because this moment had made him sure: this was their home now and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #911lonestarweek #tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #my writing #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #usermaximus #userbones #tuserpaige #immortalstrand #maizsnex #buckybarnesalways #reyesstrand #reyeslonestartag #laelipoo #hierophvnts #noxsoulmate #yes I probably missed people who said they wanted to be tagged I am sorry

[8clarify8]

Call Me if You Want A Good Time

This is for @theluckiestwitchathogwarts for the @mlsecretsanta I sincerely apologize that it’s taken me so long to finish this for you. 

The number stared back at Marinette as she clutched the leather strap of her purse, the only graffiti in this run down bar’s bathroom that she couldn’t take her eyes away from was someone had scrawled in big pointy letters: CALL ME IF YOU WANT A GOOD TIME!

It mocked Marinette, tempted her even as she was not having a good time currently. This bar wasn’t her first choice for a date, but the guy she was seeing played in a band that was playing here tonight.  

Which was cool to tell her friends that she was dating a bassist for a band, that was until one of the groupies tried to roofie her drink. Now it wasn’t so cool, and she wasn’t having a good time. 

She hid in this seedy bathroom that had graffiti covering every inch of the space, but it all looked like it was directing her attention to the phone number. 

Sweat beaded down her cheek and she bit her lip to try to focus on anything other than the headache that was starting. 

Before she realized what was happening her phone was in her hand placed against her ear, and a masculine voice spoke from the other side. 

“Hello?” 

Oh, god. Marinette didn’t know what she was doing. 

“Umm… hi? Are you the Call me if you want a good time, guy? I found your number in this bar--” 

“Oh? Oh yeah! I sure am. I take it you want a good time?” 

“I want an excuse to get out of here.” Marinette rubbed the heel of her palm into her eye, effectively ruining whatever makeup Alya had done for her that evening. 

He paused on the other side of the line for a minute. “Not having a good time?”

Marinette tried her best not to choke on her anxiety. “Not at all.” 

“Ok, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna bail on however you’re with. Just Irish goodbye them. And meet me in the alleyway in two minutes.” 

“Two minutes?” Marinette didn’t know who this was or how they were going to get there so fast, but they hung up. 

This was do or die time. 

Marinette composed herself in the mirror that was covered in band stickers and lipstick kisses. She was right, she did mess up Alya’s makeup. She took one of the makeup wipes from her purse and wiped away all of Alya’s hard work for a beautiful red smoky eye and just refreshed with a new simple winged eyeliner. 

The simple winged eyeliner looks underwhelming next to her bold lipstick and outfit, and in her misery she wiped away the lipstick as well and replaced it with just tinted chap stick. Marinette gathered her curled hair and put it in a bun, and just wanted to get out of the bar. 

Her mood soured more after she left the bathroom only to find the groupie Lila hanging off of Luka, the guy she was seeing, in a booth further in the bar. Lila was the one that tried to roofie Marinette, and she didn’t want any part of that glass of controlling. 

She caught Luka’s blue eyes for a second, she offered him an apologetic smile as she slipped out the door of the bar. 

It was a warm night for spring in Paris, with a full moon looming overhead like an old friend. The wind picked up for a moment blowing leaves and papers down the streets. There weren't as many people out and about or loitering around, but as she rounded the corner to stand in the alleyway her interest heightened. 

“Are you the one that called about a good time?” Marinette’s heart thundered in her ears as the voice spoke up from behind her-- but worse than that it was a voice she recognized instantly. 

“Chat Noir?” she squeaked, as she slowly turned around. There in his latex suited glory was indeed Paris’s very own hero, Chat Noir. 

He leaned against the brick wall, lazily swinging his tail around in his clawed glove. 

“The very same.” He sauntered up closer to her, and his own green eyes widened as he got closer to her. “Marinette? What are you doing here?” 

She rubbed her arms, and suddenly felt very exposed with the crop top lace up vest she wore and ripped up skinny jeans-- she even accented it with spiked jewelry. 

But it wasn’t her. 

“There was this guy I was seeing, and he’s in a band that’s playing here tonight. But…” She rubbed her arm, the one where Lila had gripped her tightly earlier that evening. “A groupie got jealous and tried to hurt me.”

Chat Noir sighed, stalling for a moment with his hands outreached to her. Marinette knew this sign well enough by now, he was wanting to pick her up. She adjusted the strap of her purse to cross her body instead of just sitting on her shoulder, and then she nodded to him. 

He picked her up easily, bridal style was his usual way of carrying her when she needed to be Marinette at the moment and not Ladybug.

It took Marinette a little too long to realize something, it was as they were bounding across the rooftops, jumping from street to street that it clicked. 

“Wait, you put your personal number in a bar bathroom?” Marinette looked up at him, shocked and confused. He only shrugged. 

“Is this what you do on your Saturday nights?” she teased him as they stopped on a balcony of a church. 

“No, you’re actually the first one to call.” He shrugged, lazily walking the thin line of the beam, circling around one of the pillars as he made his way back around. 

“What’s with meeting you in the alley?” Marinette leaned against the railing he was walking on, and he stepped over her with all the ease and grace of a proper cat. 

“I’m an alley cat, you know?” He smiled down at her, and Marinette rolled her eyes in turn to his shenanigans. 

“Oh yes, a rough and tumble alley cat who calls the streets home.” She laughed at the idea of it, and he laughed after a moment too. But there was something unsettling in his eyes after they were done laughing. 

“I do.” He said after a quiet moment. “More of a home than I ever had, it feels like.”  

Marinette shifted uncomfortably next to him. She had a home, loving friends and family. It was weird to think if she didn’t. 

“Well, if you ever need another one--” she couldn’t believe she was saying this, “-- you can always stop by mine.” 

Chat Noir blinked at her, surprise etched into the pattern of his iris. He grinned at her after a moment, jumping down to the balcony and bending down in front of her. 

“We’re here to make your night more fun, so let’s have fun.” 

Marinette hid a smile behind her hand, “what will we do?” 

Mischievousness glinted in his eyes. “Do you like going fast?” 

She loved it. She loved the exhilaration she got as Ladybug, swinging above Paris and being able to cross the city within seconds. 

“I do,” she breathed. Realizing that he was going to carry her on his back, she tentatively climbed onto him and firmly grasped her wrists around his neck. 

“Don’t drop me.” She warned him, but the smile he gave her looking over his shoulder assured her that he would never dare to dream of doing such a thing. 

“I’ll never let you fall, Marinette.” It was so simple, so easy to say. It wasn’t his usual banter, puns, or pining over Ladybug that she had gotten used too. 

No, this was something entirely different-- and that simple statement made her heart flutter. 

Her screams turned into laughter as they flew through the night sky-- Ladybug was fast, but Chat Noir was  faster. His speed and dexterity outmatched Ladybug’s, though for normal people you couldn’t really tell. 

He leaped over the Seine like it was merely a puddle and not a river flowing through town, and she laughed in his ear as the wind twisted her ponytail and rushed through her ears. He spun them around poles and columns as he came across them, making Marinette properly dizzy. But she continued to laugh, and just enjoyed the fact that it wasn’t her putting in the effort to go fast. 

It was Chat putting in the effort to make her feel better. They passed by people playing instruments and performers on the streets on their way to the Eiffel tower, which sparkled and glowed with the thousands of lights that adorned it. 

“Hold on tight to me, ok?” He called back to her, and she nodded. Her hands were getting sore from gripping so tightly but she knew that she didn’t want to fall now-- not while he was scaling the Eiffel tower, leaping from cross beam to cross beam. 

They passed by couples and fans alike who waved or cheered as Chat leaped by, and Marinette tucked her cheek in his muscled leather back and felt him flex and move underneath her. And she could feel his heart beating quickly, probably just from the exercise she told herself. 

Marinette tried not to see his flushed face as they sat together at the top of the tower, all of Paris laid before them like twinkling stars here on earth. And Chat tried not to let her see his lingering gaze on her face, or her lips. 

It wasn’t the good time she was expecting, but it was the one she was needing. 

#miraculousladybugsecretsanta #luckiestwitchathogwarts #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #marichat #secret santa #ml secret santa

[quidfree]

tdbk camp half blood au?

well you’re in luck anon there’s a whole pjo x bnha zine i was a part of featuring my todo and baku focused pieces. anyhow i may post said pieces sometime if only to feature @swissyarts’s fantastic illustration (!) but since they can be read in tandem have a quick bonus scene set after them ig.

(narrator voice) the story until now: baku is camp half blood and a very bitter son of aphrodite (lol), todo is camp jupiter and a very vengeful son of pluto (endeavour) as well as a neptune legacy (rei was a neptune kid). todo is praetor, follows a prophecy to chb, fakes being greek for a while as he learns abt the impending titan war, the league attacks (shigaraki et co = luke et co), todo takes the escaping CHB crew to camp jupiter, big fight ensues, bakugou is kidnapped (lol). on bakugou’s side of things he’s held by the league and then picked up/rescued by miruko on a hunt for hawks, then after a brief road trip fucks off to join the final battle where he intervenes to save todoroki after the latter pulls a big heroic sacrifice moment. then they kick kronos’ ass alongside midoriya and whatnot. tldr post battle, aphrodite kid baku and pluto kid shouto ok let’s get into it

..

if he lingers for a minute around deku and his groupies, it’s only because if the self-sacrificing idiot drops dead now katsuki is descending into tartarus himself to kill him so good he never reaches elysium. deku, though, meets his eyes over the crushing hug uraraka is strangling him with, and there’s transparent exhaustion beneath the relief and joy and gratitude but nothing alarming- nothing that screams suppressed life-threatening injury rather than deku-typical self-destruction. deku’s stupid green saucers go big with emotion when he locks onto katsuki’s gaze, and katsuki grimaces because the last thing he wants to do after everything that’s gone down is drown in the effusive hysterics of deku and his posse, even though deku’s probably marginally within his rights to freak out since they haven’t spoken since he got yanked by the league. years of working together at camp and months of fighting a war that’s bigger than them have taken them beyond their old routine, though, because deku doesn’t shout him out enthusiastically, just nods his way quickly with a measure of understanding, expression slackening into a more subdued sort of thing with visible restraint. it means talk later, but katsuki can handle that, nowadays. he nods back, doesn’t bother too hard with posturing. it’s good to see everyone intact, even deku, deranged martyr that he is. when they have that talk katsuki is going to chew his ass out for going on some stupid suicide mission the moment his back is turned.

kirishima he’s already checked in on in the makeshift hospital the apollo kids have set up for the less seriously injured, and he’s doing fine, mostly drowsy from the drugs- if he’d been alone katsuki might have coincidentally wound up loitering around the tents until he fell asleep, but the other idiots are all camped out around him as is, so there’s no need. he’ll check back in later.

no, as it is he’s confirmed the usual suspects aren’t six feet under and laid eyes on everybody from camp whose name he actually knows, so there’s no putting it off- he has to go pay his dues to his aberration of a mother.

there’s no one around the altars, which is great, given that he wouldn’t be caught dead actually thanking the old witch for anything, but it’s a severe blow to his pride anyways. her shrine is so fucking gaudy, too, all hearts and glitter. why the fuck he had to be stuck with the worst godly parent in existence he doesn’t know- ares was right there. hell, ares and aphrodite are regular mythological fuckbuddies- in another life he could at least have gone 50/50, but no- that would have been too easy. sure, deku gets to be zeus’ chosen successor, but katsuki gets to have a godly parent who cares more about her milf status than teaching her offspring how to kick ass.

unceremoniously, he dumps what meagre scraps of food he’d held onto from the drive up to new york onto the altar, watches them shrivel as the flames burn hot and iridescent. there. job done. protocol says he should be thanking her aloud, but considering this is the one useful thing she’s done for him in the last fuck knows how long she better be able to know what this is for without his saying so.

of course, his mother has never been especially interested in playing fair or reasonable; he’s barely stepped back to brush sooty palms negligently against his t-shirt when her voice comes ringing shrilly from behind him.

“oh, absolutely not. you think some flat coke and a couple of chips is a worthy offering to your mother?”

“isn’t it the thought that counts?” katsuki snaps, turning irately to find the HBIC herself arms crossed and hip cocked where she’s faux casually leaning against the nearest pillar, hair billowing despite the lack of breeze. it’s adding insult to injury that aphrodite always chooses to present herself like his clone when she’s in a one on one with him- just to rub in that she’s cursed him to look like a fucking bishōnen if he doesn’t take pains to spoil the picture.

“first of all, diet coke’s better for your health and your figure,” aphrodite declares, wrinkling her nose, “and for the favor i did you? you ought to be delivering a gourmet meal.”

“i didn’t ask you to do shit! how is it on me that you stuck your nose into my business?”

“oh, so shouto todoroki’s your business?” aphrodite crows, like the she-devil she is. katsuki bristles violently.

“stop insinuating weird shit! i mean the fact the asshole was dying mid-combat!”

“well, exactly,” aphrodite sniffs, quirking a brow. “i intervened to spare you the distress of the loss. young love, and all that.”

“you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, you old pervert! i bet you just saved his dumbass because you thought he was cute or some shit!”

“hey, watch your damn mouth!” aphrodite snaps, losing the sultry pose for a second before she composes herself. “the boy is cute, i’ll give you that, but it takes more than a pretty face to get me to meddle in your messes. i learnt my lesson the first time around with helen.”

considering the amount of love-related violence that’s plagued humanity in the interim, katsuki highly fucking doubts that, but he curbs his snappy retort in the hopes that less confrontation will bore her faster. the longer he lets this go on for the more likely she is to say some stupid shit that’ll scar him for life.

“‘s not like you even healed him or anything- why’d you make me do that shit myself?”

“well, i had to make sure you could still use charmspeak, considering you refuse to use it,” aphrodite retorts, peevish. “and, of course, it’s a lot more romantic if you’re the one who wakes him up, you know.”

“for the love of zeus, there was nothing romantic about it! he spat poison all over my shoes!”

“really, katsuki, you have so much potential- you’re a natural at charmspeak, you know, you could really achieve something if you just tried a little. and you’re very promising face-wise, if you’d stop with the grimacing. your waist to hip ratio-“

“would you drop it already?!”

“ugh,” aphrodite huffs, releasing her thoughtful grip on his hair, which had gone alarmingly well-behaved under her touch. “i suppose i should console myself with the fact you at least have some sense of style.”

“don’t you have better shit to do than stand here trying to pull a disney channel original makeover moment on me?” katsuki gripes, tussling his hair protectively. aphrodite pouts in a put-upon fashion.

“i think you could still grow out of this narrow-mindedness, you know. it would serve you well.”

“huh?”

“for example, if you weren’t so blinded by bias, you might have noticed there’s a method to my madness,” his mother says, smugness creeping into her plaintive tone. “and all i’m really doing is stalling you.”

“for what? an ambush?” katsuki asks, hands immediately curling into fists. “if you’ve sent eros after me again, i swear i’m breaking more than his bow this time.”

for a brief hopeful moment, aphrodite looks more irked than smug. “no, he’s still mad about that. nice job scarring your own brother, by the way.” 

probably smirking at the reminder isn’t the best move, since in the next moment she’s pushing dramatically off the pillar to spin around him, witch eyes dangerously self-satisfied. “anyways, no tricks involved this time. i’m just making sure you’ll be in position for the big moment.”

“what big-“ katsuki starts, but then there’s a clap of thunder and rain starts abruptly pouring downwards, drenching the camp near-instantaneously, and at the exact same moment he spots todoroki emerging from the hills and making a startled beeline for the altars, seeking refuge. motherfuck. “this is not a shitty romcom, you meddling freak!”

“of course not,” aphrodite hums, all very pleased with herself. “and there’s totally no reason why i’ve had such an easy line to you since pretty boy came to camp, either.”

he’s not touching that with a ten-foot pole, but more importantly todoroki is still coming their way fast and he needs her gone, so he doesn’t even attempt to argue that point, just goes for the easier out. “newsflash, love goddess, that shit’s meant to be a two-way street. forcing a mr darcy moment isn’t doing shit.”

“i’m glad you’ve warmed up to the classics,” says his snake of a mother, and then more ominously winks at him. “some advice? ask him what i was like.”

“fuck off already!”

miracle of miracles, she does, just as todoroki sprints the last stretch towards them and ducks rapidly under the pillars himself, red-white hair plastered to his face and singed camp half-blood shirt sodden. an insidiously familiar voice in katsuki’s head takes great relish in noticing that todoroki somehow manages to make the drowned rat look seem more like conceptual fashion than wet dog.

“you look like you just got baptized in an olympic swimming pool.”

“i think it’s the delayed effect of midoriya’s cloud-punching earlier,” todoroki says, blinking water out of his stupidly long eyelashes. “was that venus just now?”

“unfortunately.”

“oh. i’m sorry i missed her. i haven’t been able to thank her properly yet.”

“never thank her for shit,” katsuki warns, fixing him with a deadly serious glare. “not a single thing she does doesn’t have some fucked up secret agenda behind it, trust me. she’ll help you out one time and then in two months she’ll be knocking on your door in the middle of the night demanding you go bump uglies with mineta or some shit.”

todoroki’s perma-neutral expression slides into a mild grimace. “i see.”

he doesn’t want to ask, but there’s a high likelihood that aphrodite was hedging on his being unwilling enough to ask that he would obsess about the unanswered questions alone for long enough to actually snap and confront her again, and that’s not a risk he wants to take, so he grits his teeth and ignores todoroki’s disgustingly colin-firthy movements as he thoughtlessly pushes wet bangs out of his forehead.

“what’d she do when you were out cold, anyways?”

todoroki pauses, thinks this through. “just talked to me. she explained that she’s often around battles because of heightened passions. and she told me the thing about you getting wrinkles.”

fucking hell. “nothing else?” he guesses he might as well add for completion’s sake: “what’d she look like to you, anyways?”

todoroki blinks, then blinks again. “what do you mean?”

“you know, the whole appearance changing schtick,” katsuki handwaves. “what, lucy liu? rihanna? some weird old-timey japanese shit?”

“oh, no,” todoroki says, back to neutral. “i don’t think she was doing any of that. she just looked like you.”

pointedly, a loud clap of thunder underscores this perfectly oblivious statement, because zeus may be katsuki’s favorite god but he’s still a dick.

“she WHAT?”

“i assumed it was so i’d recognise her,” todoroki continues, slightly wary now. “it’s not like i’ve really seen venus around.”

fuck his entire life; he’s fairly sure his accursed disney princess complexion is bestowing a perfectly rosy blush all over his damn face.

“that’s not how that works, dumbass!”

“how does it work, then?”

“i- figure it out yourself!”

“but you clearly know what it is.”

“says who?!”

“bakugou,” todoroki says, fairly patiently, while katsuki is definitely not losing his shit and also making a really significant and underappreciated effort to turn his sudden awareness of a whole lot of underlying emotions floating around them back the fuck off again. fuck these stupid fucking powers. “can’t you just tell me what i’m missing here?”

“fuck off!”

“i’m going to have to try and guess, then,” todoroki decides, looking skywards. “does she just secretly look like that and you’re her truest heir because you’re the only child who turned out like her?”

“absolutely fucking not! just drop it!” katsuki grates, previously rebuilt defences folding like a house of very shitty cards under the sheer weight of the oblivious implications of katsuki being the truest heir of the goddess of beauty. god, icyhot is dense.

“okay. you’re the secret love child of-“

never mind, he does not have the restraint needed to go through with this.

“for fuck’s sake, half ‘n half, her whole thing is that she makes herself attractive to whoever she’s trying to schmooze!”

in the following beat of silence, as he prays violently for lightning to strike him dead and zeus sadistically does not comply, todoroki’s expression clouds, clears, clouds, then clears again, eyes widening a foreboding fraction.

“...oh.”

the rain, naturally, chooses this exact instant to stop dead, plunging them into dead silence as a bird chirps distantly. a rainbow appears directly above their heads.

“real nice,” katsuki grits out, murderously. iris is next on his divine hit list. 

todoroki’s eyebrows are still slowly climbing off his face with delayed shock.

“oh.”

he should have just accepted the league’s offer. fucking love gods.

#qui parle #anon #qui repond #qui ecrit #todobaku #tdbk #prompts #pjo au #hoozine #zine #aphrodite mitsuki is my favorite invention right behind fem baku