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amuromi · 1 year ago

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★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 9.9k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! heian era!au, concubine!reader, true form!Sukuna, unprotected sex, established relationship (married), canon typical violence, era typical misogyny/gender roles, unhealthy obsession, mentions of death, mentions of cannibalism and blood, (Sukuna is a lunatic), Sukuna is referred to exclusively as “Lord Sukuna”

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ I got a bit carried away with this one. My love of psychological horror was clawing to be free but I think I kept it pretty contained…

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 ��𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ✦ ⋆˙ engawa ┈ a hallway-like path surrounding the house ⋆ shoji ┈ a sliding door/divider ⋆ koto ┈ a Japanese zither/stringed instrument

The winter storm has leached everything into bleak shades of black and white, like ink on parchment. The trees are thick black strokes against the deep gray clouds, dusted with a thick layer of snow as flurries fall like stars through the courtyard. In the moonlight each snowflake shines like pearls, soft and lustrous as they dance on the wind. From the edge of the engawa it almost looks like staring into the great gaping mouth of a beast that’s swallowed the world, spears of ice hanging like jagged teeth from the edge of the roof, the wind shuddering through the estate in howling gusts. The cold night is scented with dreams of spring, sweet smelling coal burning in braziers, wafting gray wisps of floral-scented smoke into the wind.

It’s quiet aside from the sharp whistling of the wind and the hissing of snow melting over hot coals, then, somewhere within the estate, a bell tolls for the Hour of the Rooster. Nightfall, despite the veil of darkness already laid out by the storm clouds. Suddenly there’s the sound of footsteps soft as summer rain, pattering through the estate and the shoji begin to blossom with the warmth of firelight as candles are lit throughout the sprawling house. More snow gathers in soft sheets over the courtyard before there’s a gentle knock to announce a soft-footed servant coming to renew the braziers and light the lanterns. The scent of lavender is renewed as the coals are sifted and replaced and the engawa is streaked with blushing shades of gold as the pink-tinged paper lanterns are lit in turn.

Of all the rooms in the vast estate, yours is the most adorned. Which is to say, it looks as though your room is used for more than sleeping. There’s a modest desk with inks and paper, a small table for combs and perfumes, and a trunk for miscellaneous things beside the chest of drawers filled with kimono. When she’s lit the last lantern, you ask the girl to send for your personal maid. A dowry servant, though not originally one of yours. Life in this estate is fleeting in that way.

An unbalanced teacup had been the undoing of the girl your father sent to accompany you in your marriage. Stained silk and scalded skin, later soaked with splatters of blood. But the tatami were changed and the kimono and girl were replaced. Your new maid is a bit older–a few years your senior–originally belonging to a woman that came before you. Certainly not First Mistress because she would loathe to see you even look upon anything of hers. No, she served a less honored concubine that wasn’t worthy of the title “wife,” even if it’s a hollow honor in itself. Still, your maid had belonged to the unknown mistress before she perished. It all happened before you were brought to the estate, but the haggard weight of the loss still sits heavy on her shoulders. Her face always looks like a crumpled piece of paper that someone tried to smooth flat, creased with hidden worries. She arrives quickly, kneeling to await her orders.

“I’m happy,” you tell her. “A new Mistress is joining the family tonight, isn’t that right? Happy news.” The maid hums something to the tune of affirmation, long since grown used to your unflinchingly jovial disposition. She once asked if you wear a smiling mask throughout the day and take it off once you sleep. It’s a silly question, of course, but you like to imagine that you smile even in your sleep. There is nothing to be sad about. Living a life such as this is no different than a deer grazing in a meadow. There is nothing beyond the grass. Nothing farther than the horizon or higher than the tallest tree. What is there to be sad about when the world has been folded into something small enough to hold in your hands, a piece of origami meant to be appreciated and not pondered. There’s happiness in the simplicity that this life provides, though you seem to be the only one to realize it.

The other two Mistresses of the house say that you should be locked up in a rice chest and left out to die. That it’s cruel to let you live in such a state of delusion. How little they know, yet it’s still too much. At times, it seems that they are far deeper in their minds than you’ve ever been. Caught up in worries and tribulations that haven’t plagued you in a long time, since you let go of your humanity. What use is pretending to be human when you’re treated like a pet. Treasured and pampered but still inferior to the master of the house. Because your husband has no true use for human brides. In keeping the three of you, he has honored each of your families with the knowledge that their blood has produced something too intriguing to kill off just yet. Perhaps if he desires an offspring to assume his legacy he’ll have a true use for one of you.

Other brides have been offered and had their families culled like squashing bugs. It made you feel some air of superiority, knowing that you were chosen from a dozen women to be honored as a new wife to the King of Curses. It only took a few months for you to realize your place in all this and the last thread of your humanity snapped like a frayed koto string. Thinking of yourself as a person is useless when the person that holds your life within his hands sees you as no more than a doll to be toyed with as he sees fit.

“I’m happy.” You always mean it when you say it. Happiness is all you have left when faced with the truth of how finite your existence is. There is no world beyond the walls of this estate. No people beyond its residence and staff. No purpose outside of serving your husband with unwavering loyalty. In that regard you are the most precious of his wives. The others, their devotion wavers. You’ve seen it in the way they still hesitate to follow simple instructions, still tremble and shrink in Lord Sukuna’s presence even as you bloom like a flower in the light of the sun. He is your sun. There is no life without him. Which is why you are happy to simply exist in this small world that he’s made for you.

His power has greatly uncomplicated your existence, turned it to something purposeful, something that will end when you’re no longer of use. And Lord Sukuna will always tell you when you serve no further purpose to him. How many underlings has he executed because they were no longer of use? You imagine they must’ve felt great pride in the moments before their demise at the hands of their King. Pride in knowing that they did what they were made to do. As a child you had scoffed at the idea that your only purpose was to be wed and serve your husband as a proper wife should, but that was when the husband of your future was set to be someone unremarkable. Lord Sukuna is greater than any man that’s ever lived. Perhaps even ascended beyond the concept of a man to become the strongest sorcerer to ever live. As the daughter of a highly regarded family known for birthing remarkable sorcerers, you take pride in your small but purposeful place in all this. The culling of clans, the clashing of factions trying to unseat your husband. History will remember you because you will play your part until the very end. An end you’ll greet with a smile if it should come by your husband’s hand.

“Will the Fourth Mistress be here soon?” A new deer to join the herd, a new flower planted in the garden.

“By the Hour of the Bird, the last message said.” Your maid agrees. Soon, a new Mistress will be here. It’s been so long since another woman has joined hands with Lord Sukuna. The last being yourself nearly two years ago. First Mistress had been collected three years ago, and Second Mistress came along only a short few months behind her. Lord Sukuna had waited half a year after that to marry a third wife, and you must’ve served him well because there’s been no need for another until now. It makes you wonder if death is close at hand. A raven had come earlier in the day, before the snow began to fall, announcing that Lord Sukuna would be returning from his excursion by nightfall. Perhaps he wanted to arrive home in time to greet his new bride.

Fourth Mistress. Unlucky number Four, terrible number Four. Blowing into her marriage with a snow storm. It’s all terribly inauspicious, but Lord Sukuna has reason for everything he does. Nothing is without purpose. Even death has cause when dealt by his hand. Even if it comes tonight you will go towards it fully satisfied. The snowfall looks beautiful, and the cold isn’t so terrible with the legion of braziers burning around you and the thick furs draped over your shoulders. It’s a wonderful night to die if it should come to that.

“Shall we go welcome her?”

“First Mistress insisted that you need not be present for Fourth Mistress’ arrival, your highness.” First Mistress, Jurina, whose hatred towards you cannot be quelled by any manner of platitudes.

When you first arrived, you’re sure it was mere jealousy that compelled her to act out against you. A multitude of wives is not uncommon among high ranking men, but rarely is it expected that they should all live together. Most wives are left in their parents’ homes to be visited whenever their husband deems it fit. To walk the hall of your home and come across the woman your husband sees when he is not with you must be jarring to the first woman he married. Jurina seemed adamant about dispelling you from the family upon your first arrival. Now, her animosity isn’t borne of jealousy, but discomfort.

Your happiness makes her nervous. She’s said it herself. Snapping and raging at you for your unflinching smile even as she and Second Mistress have slowly begun to lose themselves in the monotony of this life. Sitting and waiting, then serving when Lord Sukuna comes home. To them, your complacency, your happiness, is something eerie and othered. Akin to the curses your families seek to eradicate. Unnatural. Inhuman. Though it hardly matters what they think of you. They are not your reason for being, and Lord Sukuna seems to find your smile charming.

Despite the chill, you find yourself reaching for a fan. A gift from Uraume. They’re strangely doting towards you in a way that they aren’t to Lord Sukuna’s other wives, bringing you gifts when they accompany Lord Sukuna on long trips away from the estate. A set of calligraphy brushes, a jade bracelet, a new kimono. You’ve amassed quite a collection of possessions by Uraume’s spoiling, though the fans are your favorite. All made a beautifully lacquered wood, some painted with gilded designs, the folded paper painted by the hands of careful artists. Crashing waves and blossoming trees decorate each of your fans and you take great pride in keeping them all in pristine condition because you’d hate to perform a dance with a damaged fan.

Of all of the things filling your room, your koto is the most precious. It had belonged to your mother and she offered it with teary eyes as your wedding gift, absolutely bereft that she had to marry her daughter off to a monster to appease the head of your father’s clan. But such was your purpose in being born into a highly acclaimed sorcerer clan. Take your blood and lend your body to another clan so that you might make more powerful jujutsu users. Your father had complained of the waste in sending you off to quell the King of Curses, insisting that sending you to Lord Sukuna would be a waste of a bride. Curses have no use for brides nor, truly, does their King. Still, Lord Sukuna keeps all of you alive and well in his home. To what end? It’s hardly your concern.

“Bring my koto,” you hum. “I want to dance.”

The maid goes about carrying the large stringed instrument to the edge of the room where the opened shoji separates the warmth of your room from the chill of the engawa. It is a happy coincidence that your maid had been taught to play the koto some years ago when she was still an eligible maiden. But her father grew ill and when he passed her mother sent her off to find work to support herself because she couldn’t afford a dowry to marry her off properly. So she sits and serves, waiting for you to name your song of choice with her fingers poised over the strings. The song you choose is one of comfort, the first your mother ever taught you when you were learning to dance and play. There’s a practiced grace to your movements, smooth as a flowing river as you dance with your fan. The song is short but it is always your favorite to perform.

A rare beauty in the north, she’s the finest woman on earth. A glance from her, the city falls. A second glance leaves the nation in ruins. There exists no city or nation that has been more cherished than a beauty like this.

Flecks of snow melt against the bare nape of your neck, so cold it feels like burning, but you want to keep dancing. The weather has no bearing on your mood. Rain or shine you are happy to sing and dance, amusing yourself as you wait to be of use to your lord husband. Perhaps he has already returned home along with his new bride but without the order to accompany him you will stay in your room, performing to your heart’s content. Your maid begins to pluck out the notes of your next song request, fingers stuttering over the strings as if she’s forgotten how to play the melody. That’s alright, you will dance even without proper music, swinging your fan with practiced poise as your voice contests with the howling of the storm. It’s a song of longing and melancholy. Fitting for a woman separated from her husband.

Are you going away? Leaving me alone? How could I live if you’ve gone away? Are you going away? Leaving me alone? I want to keep you unhappy with me. I fear you may never return. Sadly, I will let you go–

“Stop whining, I’m here.” A voice interrupts your singing, a smooth timbre that rumbles like a roll of thunder. So please, come back soon after you leave. In a heartbeat you’re on the floor, kneeling before your husband. Lord Sukuna is soiled from his travels. Kimono stained and torn, the scent of blood lingering heavily around him, along with the buzzing aura of excess cursed energy leaking into the cold air around him.

“Welcome home, Lord Sukuna.” He purrs at how you prostrate yourself at his feet, always so satisfied with your absolute submission. He once told you your lack of fear was something intriguing, your unwavering adoration far more interesting than submission borne of fear. It’s something he’s found in so few of his followers and you imagine it’s why he shows such preference for Uraume’s company. Of all of your husband’s subordinates, they are by far the most devout. Perhaps even more than you because they know what Lord Sukuna is trying to achieve with all the calamity he causes. Your lord husband has never made you privy to that knowledge, and as a good wife you remember it is not your place to ask. If you are meant to know something, he’ll tell you.

“Get out.” His voice is thick with something akin to revulsion, though you don’t bother to raise your head. Lord Sukuna hasn’t spoken to you so gruffly since you first proved your devotion to him. Behind you there’s the sound of frantic movements as your maid assumedly makes herself scarce in the presence of her master. When she’s gone Lord Sukuna gives you permission to lift your head. In the low light, you can hardly see his face. It’s hard to tell Lord Sukuna’s mood even in bright lighting. He hardly changes from his stoic expression unless there’s blood being spilled, then a smile–more like a deranged baring of his fanged teeth–finds its way onto his face.

“Come bathe with me.” He doesn’t wait for you to react, already halfway down the engawa by the time you gather yourself enough to stand. Lord Sukuna traverses the estate with practiced ease, as if this was his childhood home and not all place of residence usurped from some affluent family. Though the perks of Lord Sukuna’s minions commandeering such a luxurious home for their leader and his family are the accommodations afforded to only the highest nobility. Because only families with more money than time to spend it can afford to build their home large enough to encompass a hot spring along with all the other necessary land. The air is humid around the bathhouse, curtained with steam as clouds of warm air seep out of the secluded space.

Lord Sukuna stands expectantly at the edge of the rocks surrounding the steaming pool, waiting for you to fulfill your wifely duties. With great haste you begin to undress him. His kimono is ruined beyond repair, delicate white silk tattered and stained with browning patches of blood. Still, you take great care in folding each article as it’s removed from his body. There’s no added layers despite the inclement weather, no added underclothes beneath the outer layer of clothing. Your hands reach skin sooner than you expected, flinching away from the warmth of his muscles as if his skin were an open flame. Despite your status as his wife and your consequently intimate knowledge of his body, you still err on the side of caution when it comes to touching Lord Sukuna. He had only asked you to undress him, not to run your fingers over the corded muscles of his arms. Luckily, your husband seems unconcerned with the wayward touch. Instead of snapping at you he rolls his shoulders as if the layers of clothes had been restricting his movements. In all likelihood, they probably have.

Lord Sukuna is something that is no longer human. A higher being ascended beyond the physicality of a normal man, as if his body could no longer handle the brunt of his power and needed to evolve to fit the newly emerging shape of his soul. Once, before you first laid eyes upon him, Lord Sukuna had the appearance of a mere man. An unremarkable face and body. But now he has become something beyond the shape of a human. “A two faced demon with four arms,” as the members of your clan had called him when talks of appeasing the great King of Curses began whispering through the halls of your maiden home. Of course his rumored differences held no bearing on whether or not the clan would be willing to sacrifice a bride to satisfy the Disgraced One. His four eyes and black markings make no difference to your devotion. He is still the husband you’ve dedicated your life to.

Tentatively, you try to strike up a conversation as Lord Sukuna settles himself in the warm pool. “Has Fourth Mistress arrived yet?”

“Yes, she arrived before I did. I expected you to be with the others, fawning over her. Why weren’t you?” His tone is calculated as if he is trying to decide if there is cause for punishment. Your next words are chosen carefully.

“First Mistress did not think–it was requested that I not attend to Fourth Mistress’ arrival.”

“Are you not my wife?” Lord Sukuna asks, annoyance thick in his tone. Of course you are. In this life you are nothing if not his wife. “I expect that you’ll act your part. The lady of the house is meant to greet guests upon their arrival. I don’t care what Jurina says. You’re of noble birth. You know the rules on how to conduct yourself. Act like it.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my lord, but I am not the lady of the house. That is First Mistress Jurina’s title.” To go against your husband’s word is wrong, reason enough for him to lash out at you, but it is the truth that Jurina is always reminding you of. She is First Mistress, the matron of the estate. It is you that is a lowly concubine in comparison to her status as a legal wife. Lord Sukuna bristles at your insolence and you duck your head to receive your reproach. He’s a short distance away, submerged to his waist in the warm water, but Lord Sukuna can move like a striking snake. It would only take half a beat of your heart for him to reach you and tear it from your chest if he so desires it.

Tonight’s admonishment is far less violent. Coming in the form of a disparaging growl before he snaps at you to undress. You do so with the same care that you disrobed your husband. As his wife, you are an extension of him, and you dare not mistreat his items in his presence. Once your clothes are folded you approach Lord Sukuna with hesitant steps. You’ve discovered that drowning and burning are the worst means of death and the boiling water of the hot spring is a combination of both. Still, if tonight will be wasted on death, at least it will come in Lord Sukuna’s arms. He reaches to help you into the water, drawing you close while his second pair of arms stay splayed on the rocks behind him. He moves you as he pleases like a doll being perched on a shelf, positioning you to straddle his thigh.

“Look at me, woman.” His tone doesn’t sound angry, but that has never been a successful way to guess at Lord Sukuna’s intentions. He can execute someone with a smile. You hope he’ll offer you that same cruel grin when he pushes hot beneath the bubbling water.

“I do not care what order I married any of you in. It should be clear by now that you are the woman of this house. First or third, it doesn’t matter. Jurina’s words hold no weight over you. Do I make myself clear?” There’s a franticness to the way you nod your head, chirping out a pinched “yes, Lord Sukuna!” as he holds your chin to keep your eyes on his.

“You’re the only wife that matters to me, stupid woman. The rest,” he scoffs, “I wouldn’t spit down their throats even if their lungs were on fire. Even the new one. Jurina is nothing and no one. I will kill her right now if it will please you.”

And that had been the original crux of Jurina’s jealousy. The priority with which Lord Sukuna always seemed to treat you. There were always rumors about the estate that you are the favored wife, the one that truly matters, but it is hard to believe rumors when Lord Sukuna hardly does anything to validate them. Though his constant quelling of his temper in your presence should be evidence enough. It’s a rare thing for your husband to lash out at you, but you always assumed it was simply because you were careful with your actions. Never giving him any reason to turn his ire against you. It’s plain to see now that the reason for your persisted well treatment is simple. You are his favorite wife.

Possessive as he is, Lord Sukuna has favorites in everything. Cursed weapons that he favors over all others, and servants that he calls on more often than the rest. To know you hold weight among his most precious possessions is dizzying. Of course, to Lord Sukuna, a favorite thing is a useful thing. It’s easy to imagine that you’re the most useful of his four wives. Neither of your seniors have remarkable cursed techniques despite hailing from quite notable families in the hierarchy of the jujutsu world. And any technique they do possess is woefully untrained as is expected of women in the world of sorcery. Women of jujutsu-laden clans are meant to be vessels from which the next generation of male sorcerers are born, not taught to be sorcerers in their own right.

It was only by a terrible coincidence that you were able to train your own technique. A jealous cousin and a well. A harsh push to your back after she whispered about how she should be the one to marry first despite her inferior talents as a homemaker. She got her wish, the husband she so covetously desired. Last you heard she’d been returned to your family’s estate after being set aside for a more fitting woman.

When she pushed you, falling felt like flying and dying felt like burning as your lungs filled with water. In the end you’d spent nearly a week at the bottom of that seldom used well, floundering for your life as your cursed technique kept you in a constant loop of dying and reviving, bursting back to life stronger than when you died. Chrysalis is what your family had taken to calling your ability when you were finally fished out with a bucket of water. Death was something impermanent to you, though the manner of which you passed holds bearing on how long you’ll be stuck in your “cocooned” state. You imagine being killed by means of jujutsu would kill you properly, forever, but no one has been bold enough to try. Certainly not now that you are a treasured wife of the King of Curses. Though you’re sure Lord Sukuna will kill you eventually, when your purpose has been served. For now, it seems your purpose is to provide him with the comforts a wife can offer her husband.

“Kiss me.” He commands, hand on your jaw already pulling you towards him. There’s never been anything delicate about Lord Sukuna as far as you could tell. He’s always had an air of harshness to him, something wild and untamed that bleeds into his every movement. You’ve decided it must be because he lives the same as you, unimpeded by the world around him. The King of Curses bows to nothing and no one, so why should he govern himself by the laws and morals of humanity. Kindness, restraint, it doesn’t seem to exist to your lord husband. The same way fear no longer exists to you. So when Lord Sukuna’s hand–large enough to hold your head in his palm–pulls you towards his fanged mouth, you feel nothing but unadulterated lust. It’s unbecoming of a woman to find herself so lost in her bodily whims but you’re no longer just a woman. You’re Lord Sukuna’s woman, and within the walls of his home, shame no longer exists. You melt against him as his sharp teeth find the softness of your lips. Blood spills between your open mouths, dripping down your bodies before dripping into the water with a soft tinge of pink.

“Sweet,” he hums.

It’s no secret that Lord Sukuna is prone to fits of bloodlust so blinding he’ll tear his teeth into anything soft he can find, no matter the origin of the flesh. Animal or human it’s all the same when he’s tearing his claws through a warm body. He’s mentioned sampling your body once. How he’s thought about tearing off bits and pieces of you to taste. Of course, he told you that he would only maim you in such a way as punishment for misbehavior–it hardly matters when death would only find you mended and made anew–though it hasn’t stopped him from sinking his teeth into you when he’s wrapped up in another kind of lust.

Usually imperceptible if you aren’t looking for it, the only sign of Lord Sukuna’s arousal stands proudly between your legs, so large they breach the surface of the water as he holds you steady in his lap. His upper arms are still splayed out on the stone behind him as he reclines as if he is seated on a throne. He’s shown you what a throne fit for the King of Curses would look like, but only once. In his domain. An infinite wasteland bathed in blood with a single shrine standing at its heart. A corrupted chinjusha of flesh and bone. All gaping maws and cracked skulls. A shrine dedicated to the only higher power Lord Sukuna will ever respect; himself. The strange mouth splitting a seam between his muscles always reminds you of his Malevolent Shrine, of the four grotesque mouths that stand where the four doors of a shrine would be. Its tongue is strangely textured, like that of a cat’s as it lolls out of his stomach to lap at your skin. Sometimes you find yourself wondering if Lord Sukuna has control over the appendage or if it acts of its own volition each time the grainy feeling drags over your body, but it isn’t your place to ask. Who has control or not, it doesn’t matter. Lord Sukuna is your husband and you relish even the smallest touch whether it’s intentional or not.

“Are you going to please your husband?” He asks. The answer is always simple. Yes. It is your sole purpose now that he’s taken you as his wife and torn your world into the smallest pieces until only this single scrap remains. It’s becoming so precious no matter how small and defaced it becomes. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you stepped out of line. Tried to leave the estate, tried to defy Lord Sukuna. In truth, you’ll never know. Your husband is your world and your world is your husband. Of course you will do everything within your power to please him. He seems satisfied with just the look in your eyes as you stare up at him, waiting for his next command. If it would please him you’d slash yourself open, spill your innards into his lap and watch him feast on your flesh. His true wish is far more gentle, something a more humble husband would ask of his bride.

“Touch me.” His clawed hand is already guiding yours to his stiffness, wrapping your fingers over the length of him. It’s so strange that curses can bleed, but Lord Sukuna isn’t exactly a curse nor is he a human. He’s something more but his heart beats just the same. You feel it in your palm as his cock twitches in your grip, thick veins thrumming under his skin. Perhaps it’s the water or more likely it’s something innate to your husband because he always feels hot to the touch, his skin is nearly scalding as you wrap your hands around his twin cocks, fingers spread too wide to touch around his girth. Lord Sukuna looks pleased as he leans back, eyes watching you as if to catch a flaw in your presentation. A rogue frown or unintended scowl that would prove your supposed dedication false.

Even after so long he’s waiting for you to break, to truly realize what you’re doing and be disgusted enough to shrink away. The only thing you feel at this moment is heady arousal. It pools like molten lava deep in your stomach, seeping between your legs and into the water. There’s been no permission given so you remain still, but your hips ache to shift against the strength of Lord Sukuna’s chiseled thigh, to relieve a bit of the tension his lingering gaze has caused. But his hand hasn’t strayed from your hip, in fact his grip has tightened with each stroke of your hands. There’s a stinging bite as his claws dig through your skin, burying deep enough to draw blood despite the composure still set in stone on his face. He is still a man in some regard. Still a husband enjoying the touch of his wife. The thought blooms sweetly in your chest, lifting a soft smile to your lips. Lord Sukuna notices in an instant, four eyes still trained on your face. He snatches your chin up, straining your neck with how quickly he guides your eyes towards his.

“What are you smiling about, brat?” Another attempt to catch you in a lie, to find some falsehood in your contentment. Even your lord husband finds himself questioning if your happiness is true. You thumb over the head of one of his cocks, bringing the taste to your lips. And because he is watching you so intensely you make a coquettish show of dragging your tongue over the pad of your finger, gasping when Lord Sukuna’s fingers bury deeper into your delicate skin. There will be cuts and bruises when he’s done with you. There always are. Then your maid–or, on some occasions, Uraume–will come to tend to your body marked by your husband’s touch. You like the way your body burns when he’s through with you, memories of his touch simmering in your mind. He scoffs when you wrap your lips around your thumb. With a cruel smile he hooks his own thumb into your mouth, talon scraping against your tongue as he pulls your jaw until your mouth is as wide as you can bear with only the slightest twinge of pain.

Drool pools in your mouth, dripping out of the corners as they sting with the strain of Lord Sukuna’s strength. He sneers, looking pleased with the mess you’re making as he leans down to lick it up before spitting it back into your open mouth. You nearly choke and rush to swallow with a rattling cough. It tastes like blood, likely your own though you wonder if your husband sank his teeth into something before coming to you. The blood on his clothes looked dry, though you can never be certain with Lord Sukuna. You banish the thought, thrilled with the way he no longer seems to be dividing his focus.

Before he had looked uninterested, as if his mind was elsewhere even as he looked at you servicing him so happily. Now he’s leaned in close enough for you to see his eyelashes, a rare treat with his immense stature. He’s nearly all you can see, all you can feel and you revel in it as your world shrinks to this tiny pinprick. There’s nothing outside this bathhouse. Only the infinite nothingness that surrounds a domain. The world could come apart outside these four walls and you wouldn’t care as long as Lord Sukuna keeps you in his arms. As if he knows your thoughts, the very deepest desires of your heart, Lord Sukuna drags you up his leg by the hand still embedded in the fat of your hips and the feeling sings through your body as your clit catches against the firmness of his thigh. Your hands tighten around his cocks still pulsing in your hands, though his only reaction is the slightest twitch of his lip.

“Am I doing a good job, Lord Sukuna?” You ask around his thumb, truly desperate for approval. If you were any more pitiful he might’ve pet your hair like a loyal hound. Instead he laughs, something short and sardonic as his teeth nip at your cheek. Warmth blooms then drips down the curve of your face and you know he’s broken skin once more.

“Enough with the stupid questions. If you want my praise you know how to earn it. Show me how badly you want it and I might reward your efforts.” You slip from his lap, mourning the loss of his leg pressing between yours as you kneel in the water. It’s up to your neck as your knees meet the bottom of the pool, steam billowing like a veil in front of your eyes as you center yourself at the apex of Lord Sukuna’s thighs. He’s spread out above you like a proud effigy, a statue meant to be worshiped. You feel a transcendent kind of devotion kneeling at the feet of your lord husband. The taste of him lands heavy on your tongue as your lips tease at the head of his dick, swallowing him in slow increments. Despite the harsh preparation of your mouth, you still wish to savor every moment spent servicing your husband.

His face is clouded in shadows again as he leans back, head tilted towards the ceiling. The lanterns flicker playful shadows across his body, highlighting and shrouding pieces of him as you bow to take him into your mouth in earnest. Your jaw still aches from the way he nearly unhinged it, but it works in your favor as your lips wrap around his length.

There’s nothing dignified about the way you’re swallowing his dick, little focus being allotted to your own comfort as you take him as deeply as his size will allow. His body is strange, of course, but it’s all you’ve ever known of a man. Aside from Lord Sukuna you’ve never seen any man bared beyond his chest, although you know innately that humans aren’t meant to have the endowments he does. His second cock presses against your cheek, dribbling over your skin as you hollow your cheeks until Lord Sukuna’s thighs twitch. Muscles seizing tighter as the head of his cock meets the tightness of your throat. Breathing is far from your mind, a need secondary to pleasing your husband. It’s a messy endeavor and you loathe to think of how terrible you must look. It’s always been a point of pride to preen yourself to perfection because husbands like their women to look beautiful when they arrive home, or at least Lord Sukuna seems to prefer it. Though he never seems bothered by what is surely a horrid display as split slicks down your chin and tears dot along your lash line as you gag around his dick.

Lord Sukuna flicks your forehead after a while, likely drawing another scratch between your brows. It’s a fraction of his power. It’s likely he could take your head apart as easily as squashing a peach under his heel yet he hardly puts effort behind the reproach. Only enough to draw your attention as he drags you, coughing and drooling, off of his cock. They’re both gathered into one fist so he can drag the taste of his leaking precum over your parted lips.

“You know better.” Lord Sukuna does not take things in half measures. His intentions are clear. If you’re going to pleasure him, do it right and do it well. Your jaw pops open again, wide enough to take his twin cocks into your mouth. He stretched and strained your mouth but there’s only so much that can be done with the sheer size of him. And while he does well to shield his thoughts at the best of times, you imagine he must be gleaning a fair bit of pleasure from your messy sucking as his hand remains in your hair. His claws scratch against your scalp, gentle enough to keep your skin intact as he keeps your mouth wrapped around him. A burning type of exertion settles painfully in your jaw but you’ll endure. Lord Sukuna never likes to keep you like this for long. With both of his weeping cocks tangled between your lips you can hardly take more than the head of each. In the end, his preference will always be the wet heat brewing between your legs. Another bout of pain sings through your scalp as Lord Sukuna pulls your mouth away from him, leaving threads of spit dripping between your bodies. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pressing against the grooves where his teeth bit into your skin until they begin to bleed anew.

He manipulates your body as if you’re merely a puppet dancing on strings. A flex of his arm and you’re lifting off your knees, hips stretched wide to accommodate the width of his body between them. His spit-laden cocks are pressed between your bodies, grinding into the soft expanse of your stomach as he pulls your bleeding mouth to his. He suckles at your torn skin, humming at the taste of your blood seeping onto his tongue. His hands find your hips, pressing into the marks he’s already left there as he hikes you higher against his body. The tongue lolling out of his stomach finds its way between your thighs, lapping at the mess that’s left after the water washed away the first wave of your arousal. It’s nearly too much with how textured the wide appendage is but you welcome any type of relief you can find as Lord Sukuna pulls your head to the side quick enough to send a stinging twinge up the column of your neck. The pain is only intensified as he noses against the soft curve where your neck meets your shoulder, as if he’s looking for something.

His tongue sweeps over your skin before his fanged teeth make a home in it. There’s a rippling groan that thunders in his chest as a true taste of your blood spills into his mouth. Before long, your head is spinning from blood loss. Lord Sukuna must feel the change in your pulse as it turns slippery, harder to catch beneath your skin. He pulls away with a satisfied groan as his hands press your hips deeper into the expanse of his lower tongue.

“Enjoying yourself, brat?” Lord Sukuna sneers, and because you have no sense of shame you find yourself nodding earnestly. He’s hardly touched you and what touches he’s shared have been steeped in equal parts pain and pleasure, yet you’ve enjoyed it all the same. It’s awkward and teasing because there’s no tact to the way his lower tongue moves between your legs. It’s like striking a flint without starting a fire, dull sparks of teasing pleasure that leave you wanting more. You’d rather have his face between your legs and a more dexterous tongue teasing you to the edge, but it would be presumptuous to make any kind of demands of your husband especially when he’s a man like Lord Sukuna.

In most regards, your pleasure is incidental. Secondary to his own. So when his teeth snap over his claws, biting the sharp points into flattened nubs, you feel your excitement growing. He’s learned from experience that his rough treatment of your body should not extend to certain places. After only a few times he pressed his clawed fingers inside you, Lord Sukuna learned that it would better serve him if his nails were dulled before he went poking them inside you. And they’ll be grown back to full length by night’s end. He can manipulate the shape of his body as easily as fire melting snow. His hand smooths over the side of your body, sliding against your ribs and hips as he makes his way between your legs. His fingers plunge inside with little warning, forcing you open with a swiftness you could almost call desperation. If something so undignified could ever be said about the King of Curses.

Lord Sukuna is a behemoth, dwarfing you in every regard, and his hands are no different. His fingers reach deep inside you, stroking over the place that has your back bowing as he makes space for himself inside you. He hums at how easily you take his fingers, sounding somewhere between amused and approving. It flutters through your chest and settles atop the arousal already building inside you.

“Give your body to me, woman. Open yourself to your king.” You try to say something as he slips another finger inside you but it comes out as little more than a breathy whine. This is already too much and yet it can’t compare to how full you’ll feel when he gets his cocks inside you. His fingers are a luxury offered in preparation for his true reward and you take it happily. He smirks at the way your thighs strain as you try to grind against his touch. The heel of his hand is pressed tight against your clit and you buck your hips against the feeling. Lord Sukuna’s skin is thick, nothing like the softness of your own and it feels just the right amount of rough against your clit. One of Lord Sukuna’s hands finds your hair again, yanking hard until you’re looking up at him with tears shimmering in your vision.

“There’s my spoiled brat. This is how you act. This is how the wife of a king is meant to be. Take what you want, woman, take everything I give you.” A dark laugh booms through the room as you whine and paw at Lord Sukuna’s chest. He adds another to the litany of scratches decorating your skin as his teeth nip at your neck, distracting you from the sting of another finger finding its way inside you.

“You were made for this,” he reminds you. “Made to be mine. My bride. You can take it.” He sounds almost patronizing, voice softening to a teasing lilt as his thumb presses against your clit. Like with everything, Lord Sukuna is harsh, forcing you to the edge quicker than expected. Each curl of his fingers yanks at the string tightening inside you, pulling you closer and closer to the edge as he moves his hands with inhuman speed inside you. Everything is hard and fast and your thighs start to tremble in his hold, body shivering as Lord Sukuna all but wrings the orgasm out of your body. You clench hard around his fingers, pussy dripping down your thighs as you try to steady yourself with your hands on Lord Sukuna’s shoulders. He allows it, revels in it as he pulls you into another bloody kiss. But even as you tremble in his arms, Lord Sukuna doesn’t stop. His thumb is still circling your twitching bud even as you try to whine out a plea for mercy. It only brings a fanged smile to his lips.

“Take it,” he grunts, “I know you can.” It really feels like you can’t. The tension brought on by your orgasm hasn’t dispersed and you feel like a knot being pulled ever tighter, back curling until your face is buried against his chest. He smells like the bath. Like sweet oils and wildflowers as your nose is buried against his scalding skin. With your forehead pressed against his chest your eyes have nowhere to look but down. Down at the way his cocks are straining to be touched, flushed and leaking just out of reach. You look up to distract yourself with the black markings etched into Lord Sukuna’s chest. Your kisses are sloppy, wet and open-mouthed as your tongue peeks out to trace the shape of each tattoo. It’s not until your teeth begin to nip at his chest that Lord Sukuna scruffs you once more.

“Trying to leave a mark on me, brat?” As if you could. Your teeth are likely no different than trying to pierce his skin with a blade of grass. “What a greedy little bride I have. So eager to defer to another wife’s authority when you’re this possessive of your husband. Isn’t that right, woman?” You try to shake your head. Of course, you aren’t possessive of him, you know your place. You are the Third Mistress. Perhaps you are his favorite but there is a hierarchy that must be upheld in the household. To so brazenly try to claim full authority over your lord husband would be lunacy. There is no higher authority than the King of Curses himself. You’re simply a pebble lingering in the shadow of the highest mountain.

“Yes you are,” he grins. You whine as he pulls his hand from between your legs. “Look at the mess you’ve made trying to mark me up like a bitch in heat.” There’s no sense of embarrassment welling at his degrading words. What sense is there in hiding how well your husband pleasures you? And Lord Sukuna seems proud as his tongue licks up the mess you’ve made on his hand before pressing a kiss to your parted lips. You taste yourself on his tongue. Your blood and your pleasure.

“You’re going to take me so well, aren’t you?” It’s hardly a question. Simply an ordered phrased as if you could deny yourself the feeling of being split open on Lord Sukuna’s cocks. He starts with one, always. Dragging the leaking head through the mess he’s made of your cunt, tapping against your clit until he finally presses inside. His body is a marvel and you’re blessed to be so acquainted with it as the length not pressing inside you grinds against your clit as he makes you take him as deep as your body will allow. Lord Sukuna has been known to be rash and unpredictable, a being of pure chaos when the mood strikes him, but when he’s with you like this everything he does is deliberate.

He’s rough but not destructively so. Yes, you’re bleeding as he bounces you in his lap, drawing a litany of breathless sounds from your lips, but he’s always intentional when drawing blood. You’ve been trained well in these years of marriage to take him. To weather any storm Lord Sukuna throws at you. His hands are bruising on your hips as he drags you up and down his length, hands that could shatter your bones with the slightest bit of effort and yet he only uses enough strength to hold you close. You’re not deluded enough to think that Lord Sukuna loves you, certainly not in the way a lover should, but he cares enough to treat you with a level of gentility.

“Thank you,” you babble it like a prayer, over and over. Worshiping at your husband’s altar for even the briefest thought given to your safety, your pleasure. It can never be said that Lord Sukuna is a neglecting lover, at least not with you. He’s everywhere all at once. Hands on your hips and at your breasts, pinching at the aching peaks of your nipples. His face is buried against your throat, teeth surely raising welts as his tongue laps at the taste of blood and sweat dampening your skin. You cling to him in turn, nails digging into the thick muscles of his arms with no hope of ever drawing blood. Still, he grunts out a laugh as you drag your dull nails across his skin, leaving nothing but the whisper of claw marks behind. An arm slips out from under your grasp, unbalancing you, but Lord Sukuna is quick to steady your boneless body as he reaches between you to take hold of his second cock. It’s thick and straining, leaking against your skin as he presses it in beside the first. The stretch is harsh, a stinging pinch between your legs soothed only in part by his thumb drawing shapes against your clit. He hushes you when your whining gets too loud, hands clamping tight to your hips to keep you from squirming away from taking all of him.

“Be a good wife and accept your reward.” Lord Sukuna hisses as he presses deep inside you. The weight of him settles like molten heat inside you, his hand pressing over the shape of himself through your stomach. “Hush, you can take it.” He hisses, biting at your cheek as tears well in your eyes once more. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a strange feeling to be so full all at once.

“My pretty wife.” He’s only this sweet when he has you close to breaking, teetering on the edge of insanity from the way he’s taking his pleasure from your body. “Look at me, woman. Keep your eyes on your king.” It’s hard to look anywhere else. He isn’t sweating, this is hardly more than a leisurely stroll for him, but the humidity has left his skin beaded with moisture. It makes him shimmer in the torchlight like the divine being that he is, wasting his time on a creature as lowly as you. It’s your blessing that he’s so enraptured with you at the moment. Your eyes slip shut, tears streaming down your cheeks as every corner of your body feels lit aflame, the heat only made worse as Lord Sukuna’s hand finds your jaw.

“I said, eyes. On. Me.” He growls. With a bit of resistance, your eyes flutter open, white light swimming at the edge of your vision as Lord Sukuna drags you to the precipice of insanity. He’s close. Far less careful and coherent as he drags you up and down his lengths with startling strength. He’s pressing against every sweet spot inside you, igniting a thousand flames at once that threaten to swallow you whole. There’s a pitchy mantra of “wait, wait, wait” playing on your tongue but it only seems to further entice your husband.

“You gonna sing for me, woman? Go on, let me hear something pretty when you come for your king.” He’s taunting you, laughing at how shrill your voice sounds. It nearly does sound like you’re singing as you wail his name, back bowing as he rips another orgasm from your spent body. It’s as quick as a lightning strike and nearly as blinding, eyes clouding white for a moment as you fight to keep your eyelids from fluttering. From taking your eyes off Lord Sukuna for even a moment. You feel yourself clawing at him, clinging and grasping to keep yourself grounded as pleasure shatters through your body. Vaguely you can hear Lord Sukuna laughing, something tinged dark with amusement as he works you through your orgasm. He has no patience to wait for you to regain your breath, to see the light of coherence return to your eyes. Instead, his hands grip tighter to your waist, nails biting into your skin as he works you faster over his cocks. His voice dips low, a rasping gravel as he grunts, squeezing every bit of his own pleasure from your body. It’s barely a change, just the slightest shift, but you’ve done this so many times that you can almost sense when he gets close.

Lord Sukuna gathers your loosening muscles back into some semblance of an embrace, holding you tight to his chest as he pushes your hips low enough for your bodies to meet in earnest. The feeling is a wet slide of skin against skin, the mess of your joined pleasure slicking up your bodies. It nearly feels like choking as he holds you still, the shape of him pressing every so slightly against the softness of your stomach. He’s more gentle now, but only by a hair’s breadth, as he thumbs over the shape of his body making a home for itself inside yours. There’s always a hint of softness at the edges of moments like this. A bit of the darkness bleeds from Lord Sukuna’s eyes as he guides your hips to grind against him, thumbing where he sees himself beneath your skin. Lord Sukuna has always been smart, his intelligence far exceeding that of your woefully undereducated mind.

There’s never been a time where you were certain of his thoughts, but in moments like these you think there’s a hint of curiosity sparkling in his eyes. Something desirous of the unknown and intangible. He moves in shallow thrusts, thumb dancing lazily over your puffy clit for only a moment more before he’s spilling inside you with a satisfied groan. But, still, he keeps you there. As if forcing your body to take to everything he’s given you. If it were up to you, your womb would quicken to give him a child; proof of your devotion. But even the fantasy sounds impossible. Lord Sukuna has shed his humanity and with it, you assume, his ability to continue his legacy by way of heirs. Though he hardly needs them.

Lord Sukuna is a shining beacon of the height of jujutsu, proof of what greatness can be achieved when you’re willing to go beyond the standards set out by society. He’s immortal, indomitable. Children would only be another jewel in his crown, more pawns to serve his greater will. And it’s unlikely such children of greatness will ever come to pass. In all your years of marriage, there’s never been a single moment where you thought for even a moment that Lord Sukuna’s seed took. And it likely never will. It’s wasted as he lifts you off of his softening length, everything he gave you dripping out into the spring water. The light flickers and for a moment it almost looks like there’s a spark of disappointment in his eye, then the torches shift again and the shadows are gone.

“You did well, woman.” He hums, running his hands over the length of your body. The heat of his palms and the babbling water works to soothe the aches and pains of being so thoroughly used by your behemoth of a husband. “Who do you love, wife?” He asks after the breath finally returns to your lungs. Of course it’s him. There is no one else. No man could compare, like a pebble being compared to a shining jewel.

“Good girl.” He says when you’ve finished your babbling. Like a true king, Lord Sukuna loves to hear his own praises and you’re more than happy to sing them. Sometimes it’s startling how perfectly the two of you exist together. He’s the sun and you’re a flower turning your face to gaze upon him always. Which of his other wives could ever share in a fraction of your devotion? No one will ever love Lord Sukuna as you do, save for maybe Uraume. Perhaps they don’t love him, but there is a fine line between love and admiration. The loyal servant comes bustling into the bathhouse after Lord Sukuna has had his fill of soft caresses and breathless praises.

The fact that both of you are bare makes no difference to Uraume. They lift you from Lord Sukuna’s arms with startling strength, hands frigid against your skin as they guide you to sit and go about drying your body and combing your hair. It’s always strange to be tended to by someone other than your personal maid, more so when it’s by the hands of Lord Sukuna’s most trusted servant, but it seems Uraume sees you as an extension of Lord Sukuna as much as you do. They dry and dress you, sending you back to your room so that they may speak privately with your husband. Some time later when the bells of the estate are tolling for the Hour of the Dog, the strumming of your koto is interrupted further by screaming. Something bloodcurdling terrified as it rings through the house, echoing into the snow speckled night. Vaguely you think of how the screaming sounds like First Mistress Jurina.

#sukuna ★#sukuna x reader smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk smut #★ mine!

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starmocha · 6 months ago

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☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ masterlist ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Sometimes I write fics (and share wips). Or analysis. Or I'm just rambling into the void. I write for a lot of fandoms, but only post Love and Deepspace here I'm just lazy. So...yeah. :D

LINKS: AO3 ⋆ ★ FF.Net ⋆ ★ FF.Net ⋆ ★ Dokuga

OTHER LINKS: Series Index ⋆ ★ Breeding Kink & Family Fics Masterlist ⋆ ★ Tag List

new → old

last updated: feb. 10, 2025

FANFICTIONS

ZAYNE ★⋆. ࿐࿔

you're the only one, my love do you want to build a snowman? (it doesn't have to be a snowman) Carrot Cake I For You — 《 MDNI 》 12:30 PM Checkup the day bleeds into nightfall

— DAWNBREAKER

calling your name

RAFAYEL ★⋆. ࿐࿔

and this year i promise in a gingerbread house built for two never the same

XAVIER ★⋆. ࿐࿔

you shine like the stars, you light up my heart Time-Out

SYLUS ★⋆. ࿐࿔

i'm on the run with you, my sweet love — 《 MDNI 》 meet me at midnight — 《 MDNI 》 ‘tis the damn season and deck them goddamned halls to: my true love Sunday Reset want me, need me, love me — 《 MDNI 》 Bride of the Dragon King :: Prelude Little Dino Hide-and-Seek Elysium — 《 MDNI 》 Relentless Conqueror — 《 MDNI 》 it was always you — 《 MDNI 》 but if it's forever, it's even better — 《 MDNI 》 even if the stars fall down pain is all you'll find would you still love me if i was a worm? (and other thought-provoking questions) yours & mine — 《 MDNI 》 Crow in the Bedroom Caller ID Rock-a‐Bye Unhelpful Company you are my favorite mistake — 《 MDNI 》 tag, you’re it — 《 MDNI 》 fly to you like birds do — 《 MDNI 》 Mirror, Mirror — 《 MDNI 》 call me master (and i’ll call you mine) — 《 MDNI 》

CALEB ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Push & Pull — 《 MDNI 》 Pillow Talk — 《 MDNI 》

OT5 ★⋆. ࿐࿔

but grandma i love him! (and him and him and him and him)

MISCELLANEOUS

Scenarios, headcanons, sometimes ask box ficlets, yapping, brainrotting, deteriorating...

ZAYNE ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Afternoon Lessons — 《 MDNI 》 Sometimes you just have a breakdown while ovulating and that's ok — 《 MDNI 》

RAFAYEL ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Decorating Nursery

XAVIER ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[placeholder for blorbo by proxy]

SYLUS ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Beyond Cloudfall: In Another Life Daddy is a Kitty? Taking Little Birdie to the Amusement Park Sylus' reaction to his daughter making a (boy) friend at the park Horny Tribal!Sylus Thoughts — 《 MDNI 》

CALEB ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Endless Summer Sweet Little You but stay with me — 《 MDNI 》 he deserves all of my love i'm very normal about him — 《 MDNI 》 A Colonel and His Lover I'm a whore for him but I like it Caleb misuses his Evol — 《 MDNI 》 Push-ups with Caleb General's daughter!Reader's arranged marriage to Colonel Caleb AU I really am just a whore for this man tf Undressing for Caleb — 《 MDNI 》 Gaming with Caleb

OTHERS ★⋆. ࿐࿔

LADS men + Reader with a risky pregnancy i'm a srs writer (who is srsly horny af for caleb, zayne, and sylus) — 《 MDNI 》 reminder that i am a zayne, caleb, and sylus girlie — 《 MDNI 》 Open Secret (Zayne/Caleb) — 《 MDNI 》 Me and my hand fetish against the world (pre-Caleb; OT4) — 《 MDNI 》 LADS men's children's names (pre-Caleb; OT4) ⭐️🍎 Dormmates AU (Caleb/Xavier) LADS men being bros Acts of Love (pre-Caleb; OT4)

ANALYSIS ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Hypothesizing Sylus' dragon myth, part 1 Hypothesizing Sylus' dragon myth, part 2 Hypothesizing Sylus' myth, part 1 Hypothesizing Sylus' myth, part 2 Just me geeking out about the Greek myths referenced in the game

NON-WRITING POSTS ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Zayne post I look at to make myself sad The reason I write a lot of Sylus breeding fics Cat Zayne Post Zayne post I look at when I'm sad Sylus post I look at when I'm sad Caleb post I look at when I'm sad

All Love and Deepspace fanfics are posted only on Tumblr (@starmocha) and AO3 (loveppears (108am)). They will always be cross-posted to one another. Stories are prohibited from being posted elsewhere and I do not allow translations of my works under any circumstances. Reblogs are ok and encouraged! ♡

Thanks for reading! ☆

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #dawnbreaker x reader #caleb x reader #masterlist #fanfiction

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luumiinaa · 7 months ago

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just some domestic lovin’ 😭💕💕💕

제이 、PARK JONGSEONG !

— THE ONE WITH THINGS THAT MAKE PEOPLE THINK YOU’RE DATING

pairing: park jongsong x female reader genre: fluff, just say being whipped for you warnings: mentions of food, vomiting (very small) listen to: 2011 by 5 seconds of summer

the way he smiles when you walk into the room.

i think we can all agree that jay’s little gummy smile towards the members (especially jungwon) is the most precious thing ever, so i without a doubt believe that he would do the same for you. he would be concentrated on something when you walk in, and just a simple sniffle or sigh alone could notify him of your presence. it’s the way he just knows it’s you, and the way he doesn’t hesitate to make a spot next to his seat, or the way he doesn’t hesitate to get up and walk over to you. sometimes he greets you with a hug and sometimes he doesn’t, but anything he had been talking about before you walked in is out of his head because you’re in the same room as him. it’s the way you end up in your own little world and the way you seem like you don’t even realize the presence of others when you both dive headfirst into a conversation.

the way he stops you to fix your top for you.

jay’s the type of dude to be protective and caring of the people he cares about by doing the little things for them. knowing is love for fashion, he will not hesitate to straighten your outfit or give you advice when you ask him for it. whenever you and him are planning to go to the same event, jay always visits your home to help you pick out what to wear, and helps you tuck in your shirt a certain way or help you cuff your jeans. when you get to the event, the two of you show up dressed to the nines (sometimes unknowingly color-coordinated) and everyone knows not to mess with either of you. if you part ways, you always end up back together or passing by each other, to which jay sees as an opportunity to check up on you, tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, make sure you’re warm enough, or most importantly, to straighten out the hem of your shirt or hoodie as he catches up with you.

“hey, doing okay?” jay asks as you pass by him, stopping when he sneaks his arm around your own.

you smile, lighting tapping your forehead on his shoulder. “yep, i’m doing good. everything okay with you?”

“hold on,” jay says, holding you out at arm's length to straighten out your top. his hands naturally fall to your hips when he takes a last glance over you with a smile, and then pulls you into a short hug. “okay, carry on.”

the way he holds your hair out of the way.

jay’s known you long enough to have taken care of you when you’ve had a fever or food poisoning or stomach-flu, and everyone knows that he’d drop everything to help you to the bathroom if you were ever feeling nauseous. he would gently crouch down next to you in a squat, combing away your locks from your face and gently smoothing his hand up and down your back.

but jay’s also known you long enough to know that you always forget your hair tie when you’re going out somewhere with him. so, in the cases that he didn’t bring an extra hair tie he knew you’d need, he’d hold your hair back as you slurped on your ramen, picked something out in a counter display case of an antique store, or if you were ever feeling hot. jay doesn’t care if he has to eat his own ramen, if he wanted to look at the old video game consoles on the other side of the room, or if he’s sweating like a pig himself, and will give anything up so that you weren’t dealing with anything blocking your view.

the way he opens items for you.

jay being that wannabe tsundere that he wants to be, will act annoyed if you’re struggling to open something (exhibit a: niki vs. his boba cup). he might give a sigh and gesture to you to give him the item, and act as if he thinks you should’ve been able to do it yourself. sometimes you pretend you can’t because you know how much he loves when he can help you out with small things like this. jay might act like he’s tired of it, but the fond smile on his lips as he watches you drink the boba he had just poked a straw through, or excitedly dig in to the takeout you had ordered, tells everyone that he is anything but annoyed and tired. bonus points if he ruffles your hair after too.

the way he takes care of you when you’re tired.

it had been one of those days where all you wanted to do was go home and sleep for the next six years but you had promised jay you would come over that night to have a marathon of your most recent show. however, when jay comes back from the kitchen with waters for both of you and a bowl of fruit, and sees you dozing off on top of his bed covers, he decides that the newest episode of bad batch can wait, pops the fruit bowl back into the fridge, and gently shakes you awake.

“hey, you’re tired, let’s get some sleep.”

“but what about-”

“bad batch can wait, now listen to me and lie down, bud. i’m just gonna get changed.”

when jay comes back, you’d already sleepily gotten ready for bed, your pajamas thrown on and your teeth brushed. you’re already passed out under his covers, your watch still on your wrist and your phone carelessly thrown on top of the blanket next to your torso. jay only sighs, but a small grin forms on his face as he unlatches the band of your watch, gently smoothing his thumb over the skin that had been constrained by it all day. jay is definitely going to pretend that you had stolen is charger tomorrow morning, but he unplugs his own phone to plug in yours before he slips in next to you and settles down under his covers.

the way you share a blanket when sitting next to each other.

you aren’t even cuddling, but jay’s fingers gently drum against the sensitive skin of your wrist. the two of you are simply sat with a blanket shared over your laps, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh on the couch or next to each other at the kitchen table. you share a pair of wired headphones that require you to stay close. it’s simple and not flashy, and there’s barely any skinship involved whatsoever. but to the people that see you when they walk into whatever room you’re in, you and jay look like two peas in a pod and that your presence is meant for each other. it might be the way the two of you look up at the same time when someone walks in, simultaneously taking out your side of the earpiece to greet them. or the way jay wordlessly drapes the blanket back over your lap after you had gotten up to get or do something. it’s casual and friendly, and that’s what the two of you try to convince the people that ask if you’re dating even though the two of your hearts beat rapidly each time you get asked the question.

⌕. author’s note ; this was a lot cuter in my head but the last one is my favorite! something’s just so cute about just sitting next to jay so naturally that you don’t realize it’s romantic until you feel how comfortably the two of you actually are with each other.

anyway, wanted to post a jay thing before i posted another heeseung thing cause it’s kind of christmas related. no promises i’ll finish cause idk where it’s going but fingers crossed !

#★.ᐟ mars #fic: miscellaneous #enhypen #jay #established relationship #slice of life #fluff

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0cta9on · 1 year ago

Text

Beach Day

length: +3k words

Genre: smut

Nmixx Haewon x Male Reader

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

The bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Your teacher dismissed the class as the sound of shuffling bags and miscellaneous chatter filled the room.

“Yo, Minhyuk!”

You turn to your best friend, Junseo, who was sat next to you.

“Did you invite anyone to our beach party yet? Jaewon and I already got Lily and Yoona to tag along,” he asks. Your stomach dropped at the question.

“U-uh, no, sorry. I think I’ll just sit this one out, you guys go and have fun without me,” you say.

Junseo sighs, annoyed at your lame excuse. “Dude, quit being a bitch and ask Haewon already. The worst thing she’ll say is no.”

You and your friends had planned on going to the beach this weekend, and Jaewon suggested that all three of you would invite a girl to make things more “interesting”. It’s not that you didn’t have any girl to invite; it’s quite the opposite. You had your eyes dead set on one girl: Oh Haewon. You’ve had a crush on her since you first laid eyes on her and you would gladly sell your limbs if it meant getting to spend one second alone with her. There’s only one problem - She’s the most popular girl in school, and you were just… You.

“That’s the thing, Junseo. She’s obviously gonna say no,” you reason as you grab your things and exit the classroom, Junseo following closely behind you.

“Why do you think we invited Lily and Yoona? Those three are close, of course Haewon is gonna say yes.” Junseo suddenly grabs your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. “Speak of the devil, they’re right there.” He points towards the end of the hallway where, lo and behold, Haewon, Lily, and Yoona were talking.

You gulp as your throat suddenly becomes dry. Even in a simple school uniform, she was the most beautiful girl you have ever seen. The overwhelming feeling of attraction towards her makes your heart race, which has the unfortunate side effect of turning you into a blubbering nervous wreck.

Junseo starts pushing you towards her. “C’mon dude, just go and ask her.” You try to stop him, but your legs are practically wet spaghetti noodles at this point. Before you know it, you find yourself right in front of the three girls, their eyes staring back at you.

“H-Hae… H-hhhhh… Hi…” you stutter breathlessly. Junseo smacks the back of your head, bringing you back to your senses.

“Hello ladies, my friend Minhyuk here has something to ask Haewon,” he says, patting your shoulder reassuringly.

You awkwardly clear your throat, staring at the ground as you’re too intimidated to look her in the eye. “U-uh, do you wanna… go to the beach with us tomorrow?” You brace yourself, expecting rejection.

“Yeah, sure, sounds like fun!” she says in a bright, cheery tone. You couldn’t believe your ears at first. Your lips curved onto a goofy smile as Junseo held you up from fainting, your legs reduced to jelly.

“Cool, we’ll see you girls tomorrow then,” Junseo says as he drags you away. Right as you round the corner, you see Haewon and the other two giggling amongst themselves.

______________________________________________________________

*Beep beep beep*

You groan as you shut off the alarm on your phone. 7:00 am. You had a couple hours before Jaewon would pick you up for your beach trip. The excitement from being able to spend alone time with Haewon made you restless, so you decided to put in a quick workout to make sure you looked your best for the beach. While you weren’t an athlete like Junseo and Jaewon were, they always forced you to go to the gym with them, resulting in you having a pretty solid physique that you hoped Haewon would notice.

Time flies by, and after a shower and getting your stuff ready, you hear a honk from outside, signaling Jaewon’s arrival. You head outside and see Junseo hanging his head out of the passenger side window.

“Yo Minhyuk! Hurry up and get your ass in the car!” he yells, a mischievous smirk adorned on his face. You give him a weird look before opening the door to the back, only to be faced with Lily and Yoona.

“Hey, Minhyuk.”

“Hiiiii.”

You give them an awkward nod, feeling a little confused. You assumed the girls would be going in a different car and the three of you would meet them at the beach.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, I went ahead and picked up the girls since they live close,” Jaewon says, looking at you through the rear view mirror with a smirk on his face. Jaewon was the most soft spoken out of the three of you, but he always had some kind of trick up his sleeve. You scoot next to Lily, oblivious to whatever he was planning.

“Alright, we just gotta pick up Haewon and then we’ll be good to go. The back is only meant to seat three, but I’m sure you guys don’t mind squeezing her in there, right?” Jaewon says, his smirk growing into a full on toothy smile. Your eyes go wide with shock as the realization hits you - he was planning on smushing you in the back with Haewon. While you weren’t completely opposed to the idea, you can only imagine how much of an awkward mess you’re going to be with her practically breathing down your neck. After a short drive, Jaewon stops in front of what you assume is Haewon’s house.

“I’ll tell her that we’re here,” Lily says, typing on her phone. You gulp, suddenly feeling very anxious. The girl of your dreams was about to be squished next to you and you were almost 100% sure that you would find a way to fumble this. While lost in thought, the car door opens, revealing a smiling Haewon wearing baggy sweatpants and a white, tight fitting tank top that accentuated her breasts.

“Hey guys!” she greets. Lily and Yoona greet her back, while all you can muster is an awkward hand wave.

“Yo Haewon, are you alright with squeezing in the back next to Minhyuk?” Junseo asks, a sly twinkle in his eyes. Your only wish right now is to strangle his neck with the seatbelt.

“Yeah, that should be fine,” Haewon replies as she scoots next to you. You give Lily and Yoona an apologetic look as you push them to make room for Haewon. Miraculously, the four of you are able to successfully pack together like a can of sardines. The soft skin of Haewon’s arm brushes against you, causing your cock to spring to life from the sudden contact. You mentally facepalm as you try to focus on something else, hoping none of the girls notice your bulge.

“Yoona, you can come sit on my lap if it’s too cramped back there,” Junseo says.

“In your dreams, pervert,” Yoona says, grimacing. The rest of the car erupts into laughter while Junseo sulks in his seat.

______________________________________________________________

Junseo and the girls fell asleep on the drive to the beach, while you were way too excited to even think about sleep.

“Wake up y’all. We’re here,” Jaewon says, shaking Junseo awake. All of you step out of the car, taking in the warm sun and the salty scent of the ocean. You, Jaewon, and Junseo grab your stuff from the trunk while the girls excitedly run towards the sea, kicking up sand behind them.

“Yo Minhyuk, did you have fun back there?” Jaewon teases. You punch his arm in rage while he chuckles at you.

“I fucking hate you, man.”

Junseo wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Chill out dude, we’re just trying to help you out. Remember, you would have bailed on us if I didn’t shove you towards Haewon.” He slaps your back before heading in the direction of the girls.

“He’s right. You're basically a mess without us,” Jaewon says, snickering to himself. A feeling of determination suddenly fills you up. You were dead set on having a good time with Haewon and, if things went well, you would confess your feelings to her by the end of the night. With a huff, you march through the sand, following behind your friends.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to the beach,” Haewon remarks. “Thanks for inviting me, Minhyuk.” She turns to you, flashing a bright smile.

At that moment, all your confidence immediately leaves your body. “Y-yeah, n-no problem, hehe…” you stutter awkwardly. To make things worse, you catch Haewon covering her mouth in an attempt to hide her laughter.

Jaewon places a large picnic blanket on the sand while you set up the umbrella. Junseo sets down a bag of snacks and a cooler full of drinks, completing the preparations.

“Thank you boyssss,” Yoona says. “Alright, let’s hurry up and get in the water!”

The three of you can’t help but stare in awe as the girls start stripping, revealing their bikini clad bodies underneath. While Lily and Yoona had nice bodies, all of your focus was on Haewon. Her bright yellow bikini top revealed a generous amount of cleavage, while her matching bottoms left practically nothing to the imagination. You felt yourself drool as you imagined getting to explore her smooth curves with your hands.

“Hey perverts, are you gonna join us or not?” Yoona yells, snapping the three of you back to your senses. Jaewon and Junseo quickly discard their shirts before running into the ocean, joining Lily and Yoona. You start to do the same before noticing Haewon, who was sitting underneath the shade of the umbrella.

“Aren’t you gonna go in the water?” you ask her.

“I want to, but I completely forgot my sunscreen at home like an idiot,’ she says, sighing disappointedly. “I’d rather not risk getting sunburnt, y’know?”

You rummage through your bag and pull out a small bottle of sunscreen. “Here, you can use some of mine.”

She flashes you a bright smile as she takes the bottle from your hand. “Thank you, Minhyuk! You’re a lifesaver!”

“”Y-yeah, no problem.” Your cock begins to stir in your swimming trunks as you watch her rub the white cream into her smooth skin, your mind filling with sinful thoughts. Then, the unthinkable happens.

“Hey Minhyuk, do you think you could put some sunscreen on my back?” Words you’ve only ever heard in the beginnings of cheap porn films have now come out of Haewon’s mouth. You try to keep a calm expression as she hands you the bottle of sunscreen.

“Y-y-yeah, I c-can do that,” you stutter, trying and failing to maintain your composure. Thankfully, Haewon doesn’t notice as she lies on her stomach, giving you the perfect chance to ogle her cute ass, barely covered by her bikini bottoms. With trembling hands, you squirt some sunscreen on your fingers and begin gently massaging into her back.

“Mmmmm, you have such strong hands,” she says, moaning from your touch. You felt your heart pound in your chest with excitement as your hands caressed her lower back. Her skin was as smooth as you had imagined, your fingers easily gliding over her curves. This intimate situation felt like a dream come true that you never wanted to wake up from.

“Oh Minhyuk, that feels so good.” You felt your ears burn bright red as your cock stood at full attention. Everything else faded away as you focused on giving Haewon the best massage you could muster. The sunscreen acted as lube as you gently pushed your digits into her back, eliciting more moans. It became a game to you as you figured out which spots she liked most. Your breathing became heavy with arousal as the chorus of Haewon’s moans filled your ears.

Suddenly, Haewon sits up and grabs your wrists, glaring at you. You gulp, worried that you may have taken things too far. Without a word, she pulls you up and drags you away from the picnic blanket.

“U-uh, Haewon? Where are we going?”

She ignores you as she drags you behind a large boulder, away from everyone else. Her demeanor suddenly turns timid as a pink blush appears on her cheeks and her shaky eyes are unable to meet yours.

“Haewon? What’s wrong?” you ask, becoming increasingly bewildered by her behavior. Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but find her cute as she nervously twiddled with her fingers, her impressive cleavage on full display.

“U-um, I’m sorry if this is weird, but that massage got me all h-hot and…” Her words trailed off as the pink on her cheeks evolved into tomato red. You couldn’t believe her words at first. Did Haewon want you to…? Without hesitation, you pulled her closer and smashed your lips against hers. Your gamble pays off as she wraps her arms around your neck, moaning into your mouth. With newfound confidence, your hands explore more of her body, tracing her every curve. Your right hand cups her plump ass cheek while your other hand gently squeezes her breast, giving you the perfect chance to shove your tongue inside of her mouth as she opens it to moan. The sweet taste of strawberry lip gloss covers your taste buds as your tongues squirm in an erotic dance.

You eventually break the kiss as the need for oxygen manages to trump your carnal desires. Haewon stares deep into your eyes as she catches her breath, her hand snaking down your torso before stopping on your erect bulge. A low groan escapes your lips from the contact, sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

“C-can I touch your cock?” she asks, her voice trembling. You always saw Haewon as an outgoing bundle of energy, so seeing her this timid and horny made you go feral. With a nod, you lower your swimming trunks, revealing your rock hard cock to her in all its glory. Haewon gasps as she kneels in front of you, inspecting your full length with wide eyes. The sight of her innocent face next to your cock would be forever etched into your mind.

“Oh my god, you’re so big, Minhyuk,” she whispers in awe, gently wrapping her fingers around your member. Her hands felt like Heaven against your cock as they clumsily stroked it. “U-um, I’ve never done this before. Can you help me?”

“Y-yeah, sure. Uh, why don’t you try kissing it first?” you suggest. Haewon obediently complies as she places gentle kisses on your shaft, staining it with her lip gloss. Each kiss sends a shockwave of dopamine throughout your entire body.

“Is that okay?” Haewon’s large eyes look up at you, searching for approval.

A smile grows on your face as you pat her head. “Yes, that’s great, Haewon. You should try sucking it now.”

Haewon giggles excitedly before taking the tip of your cock into her mouth, running her tongue against your slit. A moan escapes your mouth as your hands instinctively reach for the back of her head, encouraging her to take in more of you. You would’ve never guessed that she was inexperienced with how easily your cock slides down her throat. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt before - pure ecstasy.

“F-fuck, Haewon. You’re so g-good, holy shit..”

Lust takes control of your body, your fingers interlocking with her hair as you roughly fuck her face. Haewon’s eyes well up with tears, but she makes no move to pull away, happily accepting your whole length. Saliva dripped from her mouth, the dirty image only fueling your arousal. Without warning, you shot your load down Haewon’s throat, the heavenly feeling of her mouth becoming too much for you to handle. After what feels like an eternity of cumming, you release her from your grasp. Haewon collapses backwards onto the sand, drool and cum staining her perfect face.

“S-Shit, are you okay?!” you ask, worried you may have been too rough on her.

Haewon props herself up and smiles at you. “Th-that was… i-incredible…” she stammered, catching her breath. “C-can you put it inside me? P-please?”

Her words reinvigorate you causing your cock to become hard once again. You quickly pull Haewon to her feet and untie her top, tossing it aside to reveal her ample breasts. Your mouth latches onto her tits while you shove your free hand inside of her bottoms, rubbing her moist slit.

“Oh fuck! That feels so good, Minhyuk…” Haewon whimpers as she plays with your hair. Any ounce of common sense left in your mind was thrown out the window as your only goal right now was to pleasure the girl of your dreams in every way possible. Your heart chugged like the engine of a steam train as you worshiped Haewon’s body with every flick of your tongue and every swipe of your finger against her heat. Eventually, you detach your mouth from her breasts, staring into her eyes while you finger her pussy.

You lean into her ear and whisper, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I-I like you, Haewon.” You curl your fingers inside of her, coercing a high-pitched moan out of her as her body is reduced to putty in your hands.

“I-I l-like you too, Min- Ah, fuck! P-please fuck me!” she exclaims. Haewon holds onto your shoulders for balance, nibbling on your neck to muffle her erotic noises. Her confession only increased your skyhigh libido, ripping her bottoms away and lining up your cock with her dripping pussy. Slowly, you thrust forward, impaling her with your erection.

“H-holy shit…” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

“A-are you okay, Haewon?” you asked, pausing your motions to check up on her.

“Y-yes, k-keep going please. Fuck, y-you’re so big…” Haewon looked up at you with pleading eyes. You could’ve sworn her irises turned into hearts for a second.

You continue thrusting forward, catching her lips in a kiss that was much gentler than the one before, eventually bottoming out inside of her. Gripping her supple thighs, you mentally thank Jaewon and Junseo for dragging you to the gym as you lift Haewon’s body with ease. You increase your pace, each thrust punctuated by Haewon’s cute whimpers and the occasional “fuck”, “ah”, and “yes”. Her ample breasts bounced in front of your eyes as Haewon threw her head back with pleasure. You still couldn’t believe that you were fucking your crush on the beach.

The pressure built up inside of you as you savored the feeling of her warm, tight cunt around your penis. You did your best to hold on for as long as possible, but the sensation was becoming overwhelming. “H-Haewon… I-I’m gonna… c-cum…” you groaned.

“F-fuck… C-cum in me, M-Minhyuk… I-I wanna feel you fill me up…” The vulgar words coming out of her mouth were enough to send you over the edge as you shot your second load deep inside of her womb. Haewon continued to bounce on your cock, her own orgasm taking over. Your legs eventually give out as both of your naked bodies collapse onto the sand, your cock never leaving the warmth of her pussy. Haewon laid on top of you, planting kisses on your neck and chin as you caught your breath.

“That… was fucking amazing, Minhyuk,” she giggled, tracing random patterns on your chest with her index finger. You wrapped your arms around her, the warm rays of sunshine beating down on the two of you.

Eventually, the two of you get up and put on your discarded bathing suits. “We should do this again sometime,” you quipped. Haewon laughs and grabs your face, planting a gentle peck on your lips.

“I would like that a lot.” Hand in hand, you return to your friend group, ready to enjoy the rest of your day at the beach with your new girlfriend.

#nmixx #oh haewon #nmixx haewon #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #nmixx x male reader #nmixx x male oc #nmixx haewon x male reader #nmixx haewon x male oc #smut #haewon smut #nmixx haewon smut

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dollyichi · 2 months ago

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MASTERLIST

READ THIS BEFORE PROCEEDING ᯓ★ this blog is strictly m—dni ! all characters are written as adults

all works can be found in my “ #ᦾִ⁠❤︎ by cola “ tag to read in one sitting. #[fandom] thirsts are compilations of unlisted works and asks from you!

these links contain both sfw and nsfw. read at your own discretion. 17+ can interact with my sfw works unless stated otherwise, but please do not follow me.

ᯓ★ FANDOM MASTERLIST

MY HERO ACADEMIA

BLUE LOCK

MISCELLANEOUS ⋮ HSR, HAIKYUU, GENSHIN

ᯓ★ BLOG EVENTS

“ MILK & COOKIES “ (prompts event for the 2024 holidays) ⋮ blue lock, bnha, hq, genshin, hsr, jjk

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works. likes and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you for supporting my writing as always!

#ᦾִ⁠❤︎ by cola

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yua0ra · 13 days ago

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𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐈𝐭

WARNINGS: mattheo x pureblood!reader, SFW, proofread, english is not my first language. miscellaneous ☆

SUMMARY: Just because Mattheo has grown the way he has, doesn't mean that other pureblood families agree with the Riddle family ideologies. One of them, is yours; the Merlins

WC: 4.1K AN: Hey guys! I wanted to write some more about the pureblood culture and traditions because it's a theme that fascinates me. Obviously, this is all fictional and I would never, ever condone their behaviour and the mistreatment against innocent people.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

The Black family’s ancestral manor had stood for centuries, its towering spires casting long shadows over the frozen lake that stretched beneath a January moon. The evening’s soiree was an affair of hushed elegance, its invitation extended only to those of unimpeachable lineage—Pureblood families whose names echoed through the corridors of history.

Inside the ballroom, enchanted chandeliers cast golden light upon the polished obsidian floors. The air shimmered with magic, as goblets refilled themselves with ancient vintages, and delicate platters of enchanted hors d'oeuvres floated between clusters of elegantly robed witches and wizards. A string quartet played in the corner, their instruments charmed to sing with melodies older than the castle itself.

For as long as anyone could remember, such soirees had been a cornerstone of Pureblood society. A gathering of influence, tradition, and unspoken rivalries, each event was less a celebration and more a calculated display of power. A new emerald-green velvet robe, enchanted with golden embroidery to shimmer with every movement, was a silent announcement of a family's prosperity. A whispered conversation in the shadow of a grand staircase might determine an alliance between two houses—or the quiet ruination of another.

The evening always followed a strict order of customs, for to be a Pureblood was to uphold tradition. First, the elders of each family would exchange pleasantries laced with subtext, their voices honeyed but their gazes sharp. They spoke of lineage, of marriage prospects, of the ‘proper way of things.’ Then came the formal introductions of the season’s debutantes—young witches and wizards of age, poised like chess pieces awaiting their first move on the grand board of aristocratic politics.

At the stroke of ten, the waltz would begin. Partners were chosen not by fancy, but by strategy. A Malfoy would glide across the floor with a Rowle, a Lestrange with a Bulstrode, each step a subtle negotiation between families. To refuse a dance was to deliver an insult; to accept was to acknowledge the potential of a future bond.

Beyond the gilded civility, these gatherings carried undercurrents of intrigue. In dimly lit alcoves, quiet dealings were struck, futures bartered in murmured tones. Who would inherit a seat on the Wizengamot? Who had fallen from grace? Who was worthy of the grandest of alliances—marriage?

Not all traditions were dictated by decorum alone. At midnight, the ancient rite of the Naming was observed. The family patriarch would raise his wand and speak the names of his ancestors aloud, calling upon their spirits to bear witness. It was a moment of solemn reverence, a reminder that to be Pureblood was to carry the weight of history itself.

And yet, among the younger generation, there were whispers of change. Some, moved through the halls with an air of quiet rebellion. They danced the waltz with smirks rather than solemn nods, their presence a reminder that the rigid lines of Pureblood tradition were not as unshakable as they once were. Would the old ways hold? Or were these soirees, steeped in the past, doomed to fade like the last notes of a dying melody?

As the night waned and the guests slowly departed, the Black family’s great hall fell silent once more, until the next soiree summoned them all again—where history would repeat itself, or change forever.

- ★、

As the clock has strikes, the Debutante Ceremony has commenced and they are ready to upheld conversations with the Elders. A ritual as old as the bloodlines that fill the ballroom. It is not merely a presentation but an initiation—a passage into the world of unspoken alliances and delicate rivalries, where names carry power and every gesture is a calculated move. Their lineage is announced, their worth silently measured, their futures quietly bartered in the minds of those who hold influence. To be presented is to be acknowledged—to be placed upon the grand chessboard of Pureblood society, where tradition dictates the game, but ambition decides the victor.

The Merlin family has always stood apart from the more rigid Pureblood ideologies—not because you lack power, but because you understand that true magic transcends lineage. Your father, Ambrosius Merlin, and your mother, Morgana Selwyn-Merlin, are known not only for their ancestry but for their philosophy. They command respect, but their stance—your stance—on blood status makes your family both revered and watched carefully.

Still, tonight, you are not merely the heir of your family. You are a prize. A new powerful prize.

The emerald-green silk of your robes shimmers as you move through the room, the enchanted golden embroidery catching the flickering candlelight. Your name has been spoken with weight, and the moment you step into the ballroom, you feel the shift—the eyes that turn, the quiet assessments, the inevitable calculations. The season’s debutantes are meant to be admired, courted, traded like valuable pieces in the grand game of Pureblood politics.

But you are not a piece to be played.

At your side, your father exchanges pleasantries with Abraxas Malfoy, their conversation a carefully maneuvered waltz of its own. Your mother, ever the poised enchantress, speaks with some Lestrange, their words veiled behind the civility of old magic. The Abotts, the Travers, the Rosiers—all the names that have ruled this world for generations—stand in clusters, their heads inclined toward one another as they measure every movement in the room.

And then, there are the Riddles.

They arrive late, as if to ensure all eyes are drawn to them when they enter. Their presence is like a storm brewing at the edges of a carefully maintained sky—an undeniable force, something half-feared and half-fascinating.

Tom Riddle Jr. or Voldemort whatever you prefer, carries himself with the arrogance of a man who has bent fortune to his will, his sharp gaze missing nothing as he leads his family into the heart of the ballroom. His “wife” (dog), Bellatrix, a striking witch with ink-dark hair and a knowing smile, surveys the room as if she has already decided who is worth her time. And at their heels, moving with an effortless grace, is their son.

Mattheo Riddle.

You know him well.

Six years of shared classes, of crossed paths in the Slytherin common room, of watching him at the edges of every gathering—smirking, defiant, always walking the thin line between playing the game and tearing the board apart. He has always been a storm in waiting.

And now, he is watching you.

At the stroke of ten, the waltz begins. Tradition dictates that pairings are strategic, not sentimental. You expect to dance with a Nott or a Parkinson—someone whose family sees your lineage as a powerful acquisition. Instead, when the music swells and partners are chosen, a hand extends toward yours before anyone else can claim the honor.

Of course, belonging to the youngest Riddle.

It is not a request. It is a declaration.

"You know, I could have waited for the formalities," he muses as he guides you onto the floor, his grip light but confident. "Let someone else have the first dance. Give them a fighting chance."

You raise a brow. "And yet here you are. Stealing the moment."

"Taking what I want," he corrects, smirking. "Besides, we both know none of them stand a chance against me."

The music swells around you, a smooth waltz carrying you both across the floor, but the conversation is its own kind of dance—a careful exchange, a measured step forward and back.

"Bold of you to assume I’m the one being competed for," you reply, tilting your head. "Perhaps it’s the other way around. You did cut in rather quickly."

He chuckles, low and warm. "Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d let me."

You match his smirk but don’t answer. Silence is power, and you let it linger just long enough for him to wonder.

"You know," he muses after a beat, "my father was rather intrigued when he heard we’d be attending tonight. Said your family holds an interesting perspective."

"Interesting?" you echo. "Is that what we’re calling it?"

"Radical, by some accounts," he amends, his voice teasing but his eyes sharp. "The idea that magic should be valued over blood? That ability matters more than ancestry?"

"And does that shock you?" you ask, arching a brow. "That one of the oldest Pureblood families in the world doesn’t subscribe to the same archaic nonsense as the rest of them?"

"It doesn’t shock me," Mattheo admits. "But it does make me curious. I’ve spent my whole life hearing that power and blood go hand in hand. That magic is strongest when it remains pure."

"And yet," you counter smoothly, "some of the greatest minds in history have not been Purebloods. Morgana herself—our ancestor—was born of mixed bloodlines. Salazar Slytherin was said to be half-elven. Merlin was... well, Merlin. Do you really believe that if power were solely dictated by blood, we’d have wizards of half-blood and Muggle-born descent surpassing those who have spent generations trying to breed perfection?"

His grip on your waist tightens slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. "You make a compelling argument."

"I make a true argument," you correct. "You, of all people, should understand that magic is not bound by blood. If it were, you wouldn’t be nearly as impressive as you are."

That earns you something—perhaps not surprise, but a shift in his expression, something just beneath the surface. "Was that a compliment?"

"An observation," you reply smoothly.

He exhales a quiet laugh. "You really do know how to play the game, don’t you?"

"The difference between us, Mattheo, is that I don’t just play the game," you murmur, allowing him to spin you effortlessly before returning to his arms. "I intend to win it."

His smirk widens, something darkly amused glinting in his eyes. "Then I suppose it’s a good thing I’m on your side."

The waltz continues, the rhythm lulling you into a delicate flow, but the banter sharpens as the conversation deepens. Mattheo's eyes contain familiar mix of curiosity and challenge, a spark that makes the air between you charged.

"So," he begins, his voice a soft drawl, “you’re serious? You actually believe power should come from ability, not ancestry?"

You glance up at him, catching the flicker of amusement on his face. “Grandpa’s beard…, yes Matt, and it’s not just ability. But yeah. You’ve heard the same stories I have—the ones your father recites over dinner, where pure bloodlines are the be-all and end-all of power."

Mattheo’s smile widens, but there’s something almost dangerous in it. "You’re implying my father’s wrong, then?"

"You and I both know the line about blood is antiquated," you reply easily, your feet gliding gracefully across the floor. "The greatest wizards in history—The Founders, Flamel, hell, even Ollivander!,—were not bound by blood status. They transcended it. Why? Because magic is far greater than some petty distinction. It’s the strength of the mind, the force of will, the depth of understanding."

Mattheo chuckles lowly, clearly intrigued. "And here I thought the Riddles were the rebels. But I hear it all the time, in my own home—blood is everything. My father says that those who have 'pure' blood are born with a clearer connection to magic."

"Clearer, perhaps," you muse, "but not necessarily stronger. What, then, of those whose blood is ‘impure’ but can still bend the laws of magic to their will? What of the Half-Bloods who’ve gone on to perform feats that those with ‘perfect’ bloodlines can only dream of?"

"Your father may not care for tradition, but my family does." His voice is sharp, but there’s a respectful undertone. He can’t help it, he’s been brought up that way. "We don’t question the old ways, the things that have worked for centuries."

"And that’s exactly why you’ve never truly questioned them," you counter with a smile, sweet but full of challenge. "Tradition is only a barrier when it stops progress. My family has always believed in the magic that can change the world—not preserve an old idea of it."

Mattheo glances at you, his eyes narrowing slightly in amusement and something else—curiosity, perhaps. "You make it sound so easy, dismantling centuries of tradition with a wave of your wand."

"It’s not about dismantling it," you explain softly, leaning just slightly closer, "it’s about evolving it. We live in a time where progress is magic. Look at the world—look at the advancements. You know better than anyone that the ‘pure blood’ obsession is just a way to keep people divided."

Mattheo’s smile softens, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. I guess- I guess so. Your family, they’re more than just power and history, then?"

You glance up at him, a shimmer of something unspoken passing between you. "It’s about legacy, yes. But legacy is what you leave behind, not what you inherit."

His lips quirk into a half-smile. "And what do you plan to leave behind, then?"

"Something that can’t be measured in blood, but in what we create. A world where magic—true magic—is free to evolve, not bound to tradition."

He lets out a thoughtful hum, his fingers gently guiding you through the next step of the waltz. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe tradition does hold us back."

You meet his gaze, the conversation sliding into something deeper now, but still light, sweet. "I know I’m right, darling. The only real power is in change.”

He lets the words hang in the air between you, his expression thoughtful, as though weighing the possibility of this new truth you've presented. His hand gently guides you through the next turn, but his eyes remain locked on yours, intense and searching.

"Change," he repeats softly, almost to himself, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. "It’s a dangerous thing, don’t you think? It challenges everything we know, everything we’ve been taught. Even a small shift can send everything into chaos."

You give a gentle shrug, your gaze soft but unwavering. "Sometimes chaos is necessary, Matt. Without it, nothing new is born. The world we know—our world—will only survive if we allow it to adapt. If we hold on to the past too tightly, it will strangle us."

There’s a pause, the tension of the conversation shifting between playful and profound. He spins you lightly, and for a brief moment, you feel the weight of the dance in your steps, but also the weight of the truth you’re exchanging. It’s delicate—this balance between banter and something far deeper.

Mattheo looks at you again, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, though it lacks any malice. "So, you're telling me that in order for us to survive, we should throw away the very things that made us strong? Magic, family, bloodlines… They’re not just irrelevant in your world, are they? You want us to forget them entirely?"

"Not forget," you say quickly, your voice quiet but firm. "But redefine. A family’s bloodline, yes, it has significance. History matters, I won’t deny that. But it shouldn’t define a person’s worth. What matters is what you do with it.”

He smirks, a trace of teasing in his eyes. "And what about the power you where talking about? You think you can just throw away centuries of tradition and create power like that?"

“Don’t be so extreme.” You smile. “Power,” you continue, drawing in a deep breath, "isn’t something you can create by force alone, Mattheo. It’s something that’s earned. Through action, conviction. And yes, even change. The power to build, to innovate, to move forward—that’s the power worth having."

There’s a spark in his eyes now—something more than the playful challenge you’ve seen before. It’s curiosity, mixed with respect. He considers your words carefully, his gaze unwavering as he watches you, really watches you for the first time tonight.

"I’ve never met anyone who thinks the way you do,” he admits, his voice low.

You smile, a soft, genuine smile. "Maybe that’s why you’re listening."

Mattheo raises an eyebrow, amused. "Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out whether you’re as dangerous as you sound."

"You should know by now, Mattheo," you murmur, leaning just a fraction closer as the dance slows, "that dangerous is just another word for powerful."

The dance comes to an unexpected halt as a familiar, commanding voice cuts through the air—one that sends a ripple through the crowd. You glance up, a soft, knowing smile tugging at your lips as your father, Ambrosius Merlin, strides toward you.

He’s a striking figure, tall and dignified, his dark robes flowing with the same effortless grace as his presence. His silver hair catches the light, and the sharpness in his blue eyes cuts through the bustling ballroom with ease. Unlike the cold formality of most Pureblood patriarchs, Ambrosius exudes an energy that is both refined and warm, carrying an air of absolute authority that is never questioned, yet never unkind.

"Ah," he says with a smile as he steps closer, his voice a deep, melodic rumble. "There you are, my brilliant child. I must say, you’ve been quite the spectacle this evening." He looks at you with a gentle pride before turning his gaze to Mattheo, offering a hand in greeting. "I am Ambrosius Merlin. I’ve heard much about you, young Riddle."

You step aside with a subtle nod, letting your father take the lead. His presence commands the space, and in the quiet moment of his arrival, the room seems to part, giving the trio of you space to breathe.

Mattheo eyes Ambrosius with curiosity, clearly recognizing the power the Merlin name carries, but also sensing the softness that lies beneath. "A pleasure, Mr. Merlin," he says smoothly, taking your father’s hand in a firm, respectful shake. "I’ve heard your name often in the circles that matter."

Ambrosius chuckles softly, giving you a knowing glance as he places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you into the next step of the conversation. "Ah, so you’ve spoken of me, have you? I trust it was in a positive light?"

You smile gently, the edge of the conversation drifting back to familiar ground. "Mostly," you tease, before turning back to Mattheo. "Now that you’ve met my father, I think you’ll understand more fully where I’m coming from."

Mattheo’s gaze shifts between you both, his curiosity evident. "I’m intrigued. Your speech seems... different from the usual Pureblood patriarchs I’m used to. Not quite so…umm, oppressive?”

Ambrosius gives a quiet chuckle, his expression warm but his voice still filled with gravity. "I don’t see any value in stifling the potential of young minds," he says. "In fact, if there’s one thing I agree with my child on, it’s that magic—true magic—should always be allowed to evolve. The old ways are valuable in their own right, but they should never be a cage." He looks pointedly at you. "You understand this, don’t you?"

You nod with a soft, approving smile. "Absolutely. Magic is meant to grow, to transform. Everyone should have the right to experiment and experience it. My father’s always said that the greatest magic comes from the mind, the heart, the willingness to question what came before."

Mattheo listens, his brows furrowing slightly, as if trying to reconcile the two very different philosophies in front of him. "I see your point, both of you," he admits, the tone of his voice softening. "But what do you do when tradition is all that’s left? When the past is the only thing that holds us together? My father would argue that it’s the stability of our bloodlines that keeps us strong—keeps us safe from the chaos of the world."

Ambrosius’s expression hardens slightly, though his tone remains even, never cruel. "Your father’s concerns are not misplaced, Mattheo. Stability is important. I’ve always said that the past holds lessons for us. But the past is not meant to rule us. You can be proud of your ancestry, but that doesn’t mean you should be shackled by it."

Your eyes flicker with a knowing understanding as you add softly, "Safety isn’t the same as power. Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than proud to come from my lineage.”

There’s a pause, the quiet stretching between you all like a soft tension, before Mattheo finally speaks, repeating the same question from earlier, his voice thoughtful. "But... does that mean we should abandon everything that has kept us who we are? Do we really let go of our history, our family names, the legacy of our ancestors?"

Ambrosius places a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder, his grip firm yet kind. "No. We don't abandon the past," he says, his voice steady and wise. "We honor it. But we also challenge it. The world changes, and we must change with it, not to survive, but to thrive. Your father’s stance, while rooted in history, lacks the foresight that we need for the future."

He glances at you with a proud smile. "And your vision, my dear, is the one that will shape that future."

Mattheo doesn’t reply immediately, his gaze lingering on both of you. The words, the philosophy, swirl in his mind like the dance, shifting and twisting into something new. The internal turmoil growing as he questions what truly matters in the world of magic—and where the future lies.

“Right, so…” he says softly, his voice low and contemplative. "It’s not about abandoning tradition, but about shaping it into something new. A balance between what we were and what we can become."

Ambrosius gives a small, approving nod, his gaze softening. "Exactly. And you, Mattheo, will have to decide where you stand in that balance."

Finally, he meets your gaze, a hint of something new in his eyes—curiosity, respect, perhaps even admiration. "It’s strange," he says, his voice quieter now, the earlier playful challenge softened. "Most people would have thrown their lot in with the old ways. The ones who maintain order. It’s easier. I mean, my father is the example.” He looks between you and your father, the weight of your words settling on him. "You make it sound like we can choose what comes next. Like there’s... freedom in that."

Ambrosius smiles, a knowing, almost fatherly smile, and places a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder. "Freedom," he says softly, "isn’t something we’re given. It’s something we take. And when you’re ready to take it, the world will open up to you in ways you never imagined."

You add, your voice sweet as honey, "But you don’t have to do it alone, Mattheo. The world is full of people who are ready to fight for that change, even if it’s just in the smallest ways."

Mattheo nods slowly, as if understanding the depth of the words for the first time. He smiles, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his expression—something contemplative, almost as if he’s weighing his next steps in this dance of ideas, of magic, of destiny.

For a moment, it feels as though time stretches out, the world of Pureblood tradition swirling around you, yet you stand apart from it, caught between the past and the future.

Ambrosius clears his throat, his voice once again smooth and commanding, but never dismissive. "Mattheo, while I’ve enjoyed our conversation, I must say this: you come from a family that commands respect, but how you choose to use that respect will define your future. The question you must answer, my boy, is not what you inherit, but what you create with it."

Your father’s words linger in the space, a challenge and an invitation all at once. It’s clear now—this evening, this night, isn’t about any one person or even one family. It’s about legacy, yes, but it’s also about choice. About shaping the future, and about how each individual—be it you, Mattheo, or anyone in this room—holds the power to forge their own path.

Mattheo’s smile deepens, and his tone carries a new layer of thoughtfulness. "I think," he says, "I’m starting to see how much of this game is about more than just following the rules. It's about what you choose to do with the cards you're dealt."

You return the smile, your own confidence echoing in your words. "Exactly. The world doesn’t change on its own, Mattheo. It takes people who are willing to change with it. And that’s where real power lies. Also, let’s be completely honest, you were never the one that followed the rules.”

The soft, haunting notes of the string quartet rise again in the background, their melody filling the quiet space that’s settled around you. The dance continues, but now there’s something different in the air, something electric. The future feels like it’s not so far off anymore—like it’s already beginning, right here, right now.

As the music swells, you feel your father’s grip tighten just slightly on your shoulder, a silent reaffirmation of his belief in you. This moment, this conversation, will reverberate through the rest of the night. Through the traditions and the politics, through the rivalries and alliances, something else has been born: a new way forward.

And when the night ends, when the last notes of the waltz fade into the evening, it will be your words, your family’s vision, that will stay with Mattheo—and perhaps even with the whole room—long after the soiree’s final curtain.

#⋆. 𐙚 ˚ yua0ra’s works #slytherin #slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #wizarding world #harry potter #hp fanfic #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle oneshot #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x you

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luumiinaa · 10 months ago

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i love these type of head canons-stories, they’re always fun to read 🫶🏼

♡ Reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡

ex-boyfriends describe their relationship with the same person w/ txt’s choi line!

choi yeonjun x fem!reader, choi soobin x fem!reader, choi beomgyu x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing, itty bitty angst, mostly fluff, mentions of past relationships

word count?! ooo ermmmmmm good question…it’s long…

coco's love note: this is based off a video made by glamor titled "3 ex-boyfriends describe their relationship with the same woman", I may make this a series so lmk which other idols you'd like to see (from who I currently write for)!

video preview starts: now!

[y/n sits comfortably in a chair as her interview begins]

Y/N: How would my exes, describe our relationship?

[the video cuts to a pink screen with the words that follow it below]

We brought in three of Y/N's exes:

Ex #1 – Choi Yeonjun [he is seen smirking at the camera]

Ex #2 – Choi Soobin [he smiles shyly at the camera in front of him]

Ex #3 – Choi Beomgyu [sits nonchalantly while "shooting" the camera]

And asked each about their experience dating her.

[y/n will ask all the questions presented in bold unless stated otherwise]

— So we met at?

Yeonjun: A dance studio near the area we both worked in.

Soobin: The bakery my aunt owns that I sometimes work at on the weekends.

Beomgyu: A pet store near my house.

— My type is?

Yeonjun: [he contemplates his answer before saying] Well me of course...just kidding she likes fun guys, the confident ones.

Soobin: The sentimental type maybe or the party guys.

Beomgyu: A guy who can hold their own but still love her.

— He was attracted to my?

Yeonjun: Her dancing of course. The energy along with it was always so captivating.

Soobin: Her smile was really pretty.

Beomgyu: Her energy, she was always smiling or laughing and I really liked that.

— And I was attracted to his?

Yeonjun: She always told me she loved the way I could "light up" a room just by walking in so I think the energy I gave and how I present myself.

Y/N: The way he presents himself to a room full of people he's never met will always leave an impact on me.

Soobin: My height and if she tells you otherwise it's a lie!

Y/N: His...caring nature? [she laughs as the producer calls her out for her blatant lie] okay okay! His height was crazy!

Beomgyu: My handsome face! [he gestures to his face and raises an eyebrow]

Y/N: His stupid jokes, as cocky as he seems the guy is funny as hell.

— Who made the first move?

Yeonjun: I did definitely.

Soobin: Surprisingly it was me, she would never.

Beomgyu: It was me she was too "nervous".

— Who made the first move? (cont.)

Yeonjun: It was during a performance we did together, all the emotions were super high so at the very end of the dance, I pulled her in and kissed her. Yeah best time of my life, the crowd went wild.

Soobin: She came in super late to the shop and asked for whatever croissants we had left but we didn't have any so I offered to make her some if she went out with me the next day

Beomgyu: We had been hanging out and I was bored so I just asked and surprisingly she agreed.

— His first impression of me?

Yeonjun: I thought she was going to be this cold partner that I wouldn't get along with, but obviously I was very wrong.

Soobin: She was a bit quiet but really sweet, then you get to know her and it's the complete opposite!

Beomgyu: I swear I thought she was crazy. I walked into the pet shop for some bird food and there she was fighting the clerk because he called her dog overweight. She is crazy but man I was scared.

— Our first date was?

Yeonjun: It happened right after that performance when I kissed her. We went out together and had burgers, then stayed up well past morning just messing around and talking at a playground near the venue.

Soobin: I took her to play mini golf. It didn't go too well since it has mini in the name and well...look at me. She laughed the entire time and instead of me helping her, she helped me.

Beomgyu: We went to an arcade and I beat her in every single game, then she pouted for the rest of the day till I promised to let her win next time we went back.

Y/N: no comment...

— Our first kiss was?

Yeonjun: Well you see...our first kiss kind of started it all.

Soobin: In her car after our, second or third date.

Beomgyu: Ha she was way too scared to kiss me so I did it when I walked her home after we hung out.

— We bonded most over?

Yeonjun: Our love for dancing and performing.

Soobin: We both had an affinity for baking?

Beomgyu: In the beginning our pets and then gradually just everything.

— I introduced him to?

Yeonjun: She introduced me to this entirely different view in life, it was just so uplifting.

Soobin: A new way of cooking, I dreaded it but turns out it can be fun if you do it right.

Beomgyu: A lot of new music came from her, my playlist if filled with it all still too.

— He introduced me to?

Yeonjun: A new outlook on dancing.

Soobin: So many places to eat and drink.

Beomgyu: To not worry what others think whatsoever.

— Did we say, "I love you?"

Yeonjun: [he leans forward and cups his hands around his mouth] We did but I said it first not her and if she lies then it's because she's a liar and hates me.

Soobin: She said she loved me after she met my family for the first time, and of course I said it back immediately.

Beomgyu: Yes, it was a phrase we often told to one another.

— In the morning I would?

Yeonjun: She wouldn't let me get out of bed to cook or shower or even pee. I mean not complaining too much but damn woman I had to pee.

Soobin: She would give me kiss then get up to cook.

Beomgyu: We didn't get up till like 11 if we were together we liked to just be with each other.

— In the morning he would?

Yeonjun: I always woke up first but never got up first since she would cling to me.

Soobin: Um hit snooze? Stay asleep.

Beomgyu: I would wake her up.

— He would call me?

Yeonjun: I didn't have one designated name for her but to get her mad I'd call her sugarplum or something really cheesy.

Soobin: Arm rest. [a smile finds its way on his faces as he's asked to elaborate] There isn't much to say she was my arm rest.

Beomgyu: Fiesty or crazy.

— I would call him?

Yeonjun: She was so mean she called me stupid head all the time.

Soobin: She always called me really nice things or something super mean like giant.

Beomgyu: She called me stupid head a lot and big baby.

— The best thing he did for me?

Yeonjun: I helped her open up a lot more I think.

Soobin: I always made sure she knew how special she was.

Beomgyu: No matter what I always spoken highly of her.

— And the best thing I did for him?

Yeonjun: She helped me with communicating. I get very upset very fast but she always made me feel better.

Soobin: She lessened a lot of my insecurities and that really boosted my confidence.

Beomgyu: Take care of me in a way no one before had ever done.

[the screen cuts back to a pink background with the words below appearing on it]

So who knows her best? (next segment)

— I'm really good at?

Yeonjun: Dancing.

Soobin: Making people feel comfortable/comforted.

Beomgyu: Getting her way? In a good way not bad I swear.

Y/N: Dancing definitely but also teaching others.

— I could be better at?

Yeonjun: Singing because she loved to dance but singing...wasn't her forte.

Soobin: Packing for trips. She overpacked a lot.

Beomgyu: Not fighting with the pet store guy.

Y/N: Being on time or toning down when appropriate.

— I loved to travel to?

Yeonjun: Any place with good food and people.

Soobin: Oh she liked going to sunny places.

Beomgyu: Where didn't she like to go.

Y/N: Places with good food or a nice sun.

— He knows I'm really proud of my?

Yeonjun: How far she's come with dance.

Soobin: She always took pride in how quickly she learned to be on her own.

Beomgyu: Just her life in general, she is doing what she wants and not many people get to do that.

Y/N: As much as I am proud of my dancing, I am so proud of how quickly I was able to go out and do things on my own.

— He knows I hate?

Yeonjun: When people criticize her but have absolutely no background knowledge on what she's doing and why.

Soobin: People who project or are just bullies.

Beomgyu: Not being able to be independent.

Y/N: Not having freedom to do things I know I should be able to do.

— My greatest skill?

Yeonjun: Her passion for wanting to do things.

Soobin: Dancing, I probably haven't mentioned it but she can dance really well.

Beomgyu: Her brain is huge and she uses it well.

Y/N: I know how to make people feel comfortable and I can cook really well.

— I've always wanted to buy?

Yeonjun: What kind of...man I don't know. Clothes? She had a lot of clothes.

Soobin: Shoes maybe, also like jewelry.

Beomgyu: One of those big extra dog houses for her dog.

Y/N: I want to buy my dog his own house.

— I have a talent for?

Yeonjun: Being herself and taking no crap from others.

Soobin: Making people comfortable.

Beomgyu: Tossing small candies in the air and catching them in her mouth.

Y/N: I can make people laugh I think.

— My biggest pet peeve is?

Yeonjun: People adding their opinions in situations that don't involve them.

Soobin: When she feels like she's being restricted from doing things she loves.

Beomgyu: People calling her dog fat of course!

Y/N: When people call my dog fat!! Why would they ever be so mean to him!

— Who takes longer to get ready?

Yeonjun: Definitely me…but only because I need to make sure my fit is good you know?

Y/N: Him always.

Soobin: Of course her! We never made our dates on time but honestly she was so pretty it didn’t matter.

Y/N: Me but only because he has such a nice style he puts his outfits together so quickly!

Beomgyu: Her, no questions asked.

Y/N: Bye it was so him, he is so indecisive!

— One word that best describes me is?

Yeonjun: Amazing.

Soobin: Kindhearted.

Beomgyu: Soulful.

Y/N: Unforgettable.

[screen behind y/n changes to a different color indicating a shift in the types of questions being asked]

— We dated for?

Yeonjun: Three years and two months.

Soobin: Eight months.

Beomgyu: Two years.

— We broke up because?

Yeonjun: Our paths were moving in different directions and we began to not really know one another in a sense.

Y/N: Our lives were moving in different directions and we started to argue a lot, so we decided to split.

Soobin: I think we realized that our relationship was more like friends than a couple.

Y/N: He’s like my best friend, and that was all we started seeing one another as.

Beomgyu: Our communication was really bad, and we had a hard time being honest with one another.

Y/N: We weren’t completely honest with our feelings and thoughts towards one another. It caused a lot of problems for us.

— My worst habit was?

Yeonjun: She didn’t believe in herself enough.

Soobin: She had a really busy schedule and prioritized work.

Beomgyu: Workaholic.

Y/N: Impostor syndrome was BIG.

— His worst habit was?

Yeonjun: Didn’t spend enough time with her.

Soobin: I wasn’t the easiest to communicate with.

Beomgyu: Prioritized my bird over her dog.

— He hated my?

Yeonjun: She could never sit still, always needed to be doing something, could never relax and take care of herself.

Soobin: I didn’t and still don’t hate anything about her, honestly.

Beomgyu: She was bad at communication and so was I so it was hard to get things out.

— And I hated his?

Yeonjun: Probably my friends, she said they liked me too much.

Soobin: How serious I was all the time.

Beomgyu: I couldn’t take anything seriously, we’d fight and I’d laugh it off.

— Were we in love?

Yeonjun: Definitely, always will be.

Soobin: I think at the beginning yes we definitely were.

Beomgyu: Yeah no doubt.

Y/N: Yeah I loved them all, I think Soobin was more of a friendly or brotherly love but Beomgyu and Yeonjun were love love.

— We always fought about?

Yeonjun: Never seeing one another.

Soobin: Being with each other too much.

Beomgyu: How we never communicated with one another.

— I got over the break-up after?

Yeonjun: I wish I could tell you.

Soobin: After we both realized we wanted to same ending.

Beomgyu: What kind of question is that? I don’t know.

— He got over the break-up after?

Yeonjun: Am I even over it? [he chuckles and looks away from the camera]

Soobin: It wasn’t too long, I think I’d accepted it long before it was over.

Beomgyu: Never.

— How did things end?

Yeonjun: Not the best, but we’re better now. We grew apart and it will take time to get back to a great place but right now it’s good.

Y/N: We hadn’t been a real couple in a long time so when it ended it was hard, it hurt both of us a lot but I think we’re getting better.

Soobin: It ended super well I think?

Y/N: It took a bit of space but we’re happier now.

Beomgyu: We argued so much, and that hurt our relationship a lot. I wouldn’t say it ended well.

Y/N: It sucked so bad at first, like I really loved him so much so the end not ending well hurt a lot.

[ending music switches on and the background behind y/n changes colors for one last time]

— Would we date again?

Yeonjun: I think if our schedules and paths aligned with one another, then yes we could.

Soobin: No! But I adore her always.

Beomgyu: Ummm well like assuming we’ve grown and gotten better at communicating with one another then yeah maybe? I don’t know? Yes?

Y/N: I don’t know, I guess only time can tell.

— Are we still on good terms?

Yeonjun: I think so? Could be better.

Soobin: Oh definitely. We have movie nights together.

Beomgyu: Could be better, but our animals have play dates so there’s that.

Y/N: Yes! I love them all, and like yeah some terms could be better but we’re working on it!

— We stayed friends because?

Yeonjun: I don’t think I could live a normal life without her.

Soobin: She’s like my best friend, of course we’d stay friends!

Beomgyu: I think I’d die if she wasn’t in my life, not to be dramatic or anything.

— He would say he misses my?

Yeonjun: Personality, she made me super happy and we had a great time together.

Soobin: I see her too much I have no answer for this!

Beomgyu: I miss her dog, but like I mean like living with him not just co-parenting him.

— I would say I miss his?

Yeonjun: Cuddles, I give the best ones.

Soobin: Can you really miss something of someone’s when you see them all the time?

Beomgyu: My jokes definitely, we laughed a lot.

— Best memory of our relationship was?

Yeonjun: One time we danced in the rain because she said it was on her bucket list of things and I wanted to do that for her.

Y/N: He helped me check off a lot of things I wanted to do in my lifetime and I appreciate that so much.

Soobin: When we made a giant, I’m talking four foot tall, gingerbread house for a contest and still lost but it was fun to do it.

Y/N: We have so many good ones don’t ask me to pick please!

Beomgyu: Walking in the park at night when it was peak golden hour and she looked so damn beautiful.

Y/N: Weekly walks around the park near his apartment.

— The best thing to come out of our relationship was?

Yeonjun: I think I gained a lot of knowledge from her and our relationship in general.

Soobin: Our friendship.

Beomgyu: I grew as a person definitely.

— He would tell my future boyfriends?

Yeonjun: Oh don’t even get me started, good luck is number one. Have fun.

Soobin: You’re very lucky, she’s amazing.

Beomgyu: [he adjusts in his chair and looks the camera dead in the eyes] I hate you. She’s mine. [he flashes a smile after]

[screen flashes back to y/n and all three exes sitting in our shot together]

Interviewer: Would you do this again?

Y/N: Possibly? I think it’s been fun to see their answers especially because they’re all such different people, special in their own ways definitely.

Interviewer: Okay Y/N, that’s a wrap! Thank you so much for coming and thank you boys for agreeing to participate in this video today.

All: Thank you!

[screen pans as the words “ENLUV” flash indicating the ending of the video and we watch y/n and her exes walk off screen]

txt taglist! @yeoforce @nikis-mum @bloom-bloom-pow @gyuuss @yourlocalhotgf @kyublr @spooooooooooon @enhacolor @butterfly-skinnylegend @dinosdance @simpforsung @misschubswrites @junityy @soobin-chois @fairybinie @lolalee24 @ja4hyvn @syrxiee2 – (bold can’t be tagged, & if you’d like to be removed from the taglist or added please let me know!)

coco’s love note: HELLO TOOTS! this is my first “fic fic” back!! tbh idk if I like it, it took such a long time to write and I feel like it’s not my BEST but I’m warming back up to writing so I promise I’ll get better again soon 🫶🏼 thank you so much for reading and feedback is always welcomed/appreciated!! if you liked it please let me know!! (p.s: i was stuck between gyu & jun so 😮)

#★.ᐟ mars #fic: miscellaneous #txt #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu #established relationship #slice of life #crack #fluff

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